It was Christmas Eve and the sounds of the apartment were so familiar in the most satisfyingly domestic way, Yoongi could almost believe everything was back to normal.
Taehyung was playing video games in the living room. Jungkook had brought his painting supplies in from the balcony due to the cold weather but insisted the lighting wasn't right indoors, even next to a window, so he was currently drawing at the dining room table. Yoongi noticed him glancing over every so often to make sure Taehyung hadn't beaten his high score. Namjoon was working on a song at the other end of the table, not as quiet as he probably thought as he hummed along, only slightly off-key, to the melancholy melody blasting through his headphones. If the rhythmic thump of heavy footfalls on the floor above him was any indication, Yoongi was pretty sure Hoseok was dancing upstairs. The telltale aroma of grilled meat wafted through the apartment as Seokjin prepared dinner, having insisted that two weeks of take-out was long enough and they needed a proper, home-cooked meal. It sounded like he was trying and failing to ignore Holly, who very much wanted some of whatever Seokjin was cooking. Jimin was lying across the sofa with his head in Yoongi's lap, pretending to read a book, but Yoongi could tell by the fact that he hadn't turned the page in almost twelve minutes that most of Jimin's attention was on the television and how close Taehyung was to finishing the game.
As for Yoongi, he was reading a book Namjoon had recommended what seemed like eons ago in a futile attempt to distract himself from the urge to scratch at his stitches. He knew it was a good thing for his scars to itch—it meant they were healing—but not being allowed to scratch was unbearable. He now understood why animals had to be coned after a trip to the veterinarian. He often caught himself subconsciously rubbing at his wounds to alleviate some of the itching and had to sit on his hands to keep it from happening again, only for his hands to betray his absent mind again at least once every half-hour. It was more annoying than painful, but Yoongi still kind of wanted to put his head through a wall every time someone pointed out that he was scratching somewhere he shouldn't be.
"Yoongi, you're doing it again," Jungkook called over to him.
Yoongi huffed in irritation with himself and put down his book, consciously weaving both hands into Jimin's hair to keep them in place. He didn't have a chance to thank Jungkook for the reminder, however, before Jungkook did a double-take and bolted from his seat, racing into the living room to stand behind Taehyung and monitor how close he was to beating the video game.
Barely a minute later, Taehyung let out a yell and Jungkook gloated in his face—he'd fallen just eleven points short of beating Jungkook's high score.
Yoongi began idly braiding some of the longer locks of Jimin's hair to keep his hands busy while he watched the 'fight' unfold. Any other day, he might have flinched at the raised voices, but he knew it was all in good fun. It was practically a tradition, at this point; Seokjin and Jungkook had the high scores in every video game they owned and whenever anyone else came close, they'd smugly celebrate their ongoing superiority, much to the irritation of whomever dared challenge them.
Jungkook did a little victory dance while Taehyung hollered a string of curses at him, as well as a very creative suggestion as to where Jungkook could shove his high score. Taehyung then stood and tackled Jungkook to the floor, straddled his hips, and began hitting him with open palms.
A spark of anxiety flickered to life in Yoongi's chest at the sudden escalation of the situation, and it ignited into full-blown fear when Jungkook let out a scream, but then Yoongi squinted, looking closer at Jungkook's face, and saw that he was beaming ear to ear. He was yelling in laughter, not fear, not pain. After taking a deep breath to clear his head, Yoongi realized Taehyung's hands weren't even making any noise when they came in contact with Jungkook's face, chest, and shoulders—it probably tickled more than anything.
"Tae! Taehyungie! Mercy!" Jungkook wheezed between bursts of giggles.
"You don't think I'd let you off that easy, do you? Huh? Huh? You little punk?" Taehyung shouted as he started tickling Jungkook's sides in earnest. "Say I'm better at the game than you!"
"But you—hahaha!—you're not!" Jungkook tried to argue, pushing fruitlessly on Taehyung's chest. "I have—haha!—I have the high score, I'm objectively—ahahahahaha!—better than you!"
"Say it!" Taehyung demanded. When Jungkook didn't yield, Taehyung employed his greatest weapon: he leaned down and blew a raspberry into Jungkook's neck.
"Ohmygod okay!" Jungkook shrieked, weak with laughter and futilely flailing beneath Taehyung's weight. "Okay, okay! You're better at—agh, HAHAHAHA—you're better! You're better at the game! Now get off!"
Jungkook kicked his legs and shoved Taehyung back until he stood up, and Taehyung loomed triumphantly over a panting Jungkook with his hands on his hips. "I hope you've learned you're lesson," he said proudly.
"I've not learned shit," Jungkook grunted as soon as he caught his breath, grabbing Taehyung by the ankle and yanking hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor.
Yoongi jumped when Taehyung screamed and landed hard on his back, and he started to get up to help when Taehyung let out a groan of pain. But then Taehyung propped himself up on his elbows and glared at Jungkook before lunging at him.
"You little—!"
"Jeon Jungkook! Kim Taehyung!" Seokjin hollered from the kitchen, freezing the younger men in place with the use of their full legal names. It was a good thing he intervened, too, because Jungkook seemed mere seconds away from wrestling Taehyung into a headlock. "I know you two are not roughhousing that close to the TV."
"He started it!" Taehyung and Jungkook both accused at the same time. Instead of high-fiving, as they usually would to celebrate such perfect accidental synchronicity, they turned and glared at each other.
"I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it," Seokjin replied. He held up his hands, which Yoongi could now see were covered in white powder. "After all, those clothes look really nice. It would be a shame if something happened to them."
Taehyung dramatically gasped and clutched the expensive tie he was wearing as a belt. Jungkook, however, simply narrowed his eyes and whispered, "You wouldn't dare."
"Try me," Seokjin challenged.
"That's a lot of cocaine," said Jimin.
"Wait, cocaine?" Namjoon fumbled with his headphones and they clattered onto the table. "What did I miss?"
"Of course that's the first thing you hear. Relax, it's flour. These brats are just trying to give me an aneurysm," Seokjin told him. "I'm not bluffing, though. I will slap you with my flour hands. You've been warned," he said with a pointed look at the two youngest members before turning back to whatever he was kneading.
"If you guys are going to have a food fight, could you please take it to the balcony or something? I really don't feel like cleaning sweet potatoes off the ceiling again," Hoseok said, entering the room with the back of his neck draped in a towel that seemed to be doing little to absorb the sweat dripping down his flushed skin.
"It's unfair how hot he is when he's all sweaty and gross," Jimin muttered under his breath, staring almost disdainfully at Hoseok's soaked t-shirt. "Did you get a good workout?" he teased. He then yelped, crinkling his nose in disgust when Hoseok wiped some of the glistening sweat off his forehead and flicked his fingers at Jimin. There wasn't enough sweat to actually fling any onto him, but Jimin still pressed his head further down into Yoongi's legs to shield his face.
"Fuck you," Hoseok said lovingly.
"Watch it," Seokjin warned, half-joking.
"What's the point of correcting our language when there are no cameras around?" Hoseok grumbled. "Whatever. I'm going to take a shower. Would you all mind not washing any dishes until I'm done?"
"One time. I've used up all the hot water one time," Namjoon said firmly as he put his headphones back on.
"It's happened at least a dozen times, you liar," Hoseok said before Namjoon could press play on the track he was listening to. Namjoon stuck out his tongue and Hoseok flipped him off.
"Hey, play nice," Yoongi lightheartedly chided.
All at once, Hoseok stiffened, the almost-smile melting from his face. Yoongi could swear he saw the light physically leave his eyes. "Sorry," Hoseok muttered before scampering off to the nearest bathroom. Taehyung silently stood up from his new seat (Jungkook's lap) and followed after him.
Yoongi frowned. He knew Hoseok was avoiding him for some reason—he just couldn't figure out what that reason was. Yoongi had tried talking to him about it, but every time he came close to an answer, they were either interrupted by someone else or Hoseok found some excuse to leave. It was almost as if Hoseok was afraid of him...or ashamed.
Yoongi tapped Jimin's forehead and motioned for him to sit up, then stood and followed Hoseok and Taehyung down the hall. Technically, he still wasn't supposed to be walking unsupported, but he'd forgotten to get in his wheelchair and it was too late to go back for it, so he used the wall to bear some of his weight and pushed himself through the pain and already oncoming fatigue. He needed to catch Hoseok before he could disappear again.
"Wait, wait up," Yoongi called out just before Taehyung could fully close the bathroom door.
Taehyung, visibly reluctant, came out of the bathroom to stand in the doorway. Hoseok didn't show his face. Yoongi's heart sank.
"Is everything okay?" Taehyung asked.
"C-could you..." Yoongi didn't know what to do with himself now that this was all happening in front of Taehyung. "Um, I need...I need to talk to Hoseok. Just...give us a minute?"
Taehyung pursed his lips and looked back into the bathroom. The light wasn't even on yet, but he must have seen some nonverbal cue from Hoseok, because he eventually nodded. "Okay." Taehyung walked past him, giving him one last wary look at the end of the hall before rejoining the others in the common space.
Yoongi gave himself a second to take a deep breath before pushing the bathroom door open the rest of the way. He turned on the light, letting himself see Hoseok perched on the edge of the bathtub. Hoseok's face was flushed, but this time, it didn't seem like it was because of the exercise.
"Hoseokie," Yoongi started, but he didn't know what to say.
After a few seconds of silence, Hoseok cleared his throat. "Yes?"
"How...how...how are you doing?" Yoongi asked when his brain failed to come up with anything better.
Hoseok blinked. "Um. Fine?"
Yoongi simply stared at him. Hoseok began to squirm.
"Really, I..." Hoseok cut himself off, seeming to shrink under Yoongi's gaze.
But that wasn't what Yoongi wanted at all. He didn't want Hoseok to be intimidated, he wanted Hoseok to talk to him. Really talk to him. Anything would be better than the one- or two-word answers he'd been getting since the night of his second kidnapping.
But then Yoongi watched Hoseok's expression turn from vague inconvenience and nervousness to heartache and fear, actual fear, and guilt blossomed deep in the pit of his stomach.
"Hey, it's okay, I won't bite. Just...talk to me honey."
Hoseok's steadily-paling face turned cherry-red. "H-honey?"
"Um..." Yoongi trailed off, suddenly second-guessing himself. Perhaps it was, in fact, shame that he had detected earlier, then. He'd called the younger man honey hundreds of times in the past; Yoongi couldn't think of any other reason for Hoseok to be uncomfortable with the endearment now. "I-I won't, I w-won't call you that if you, if you don't want me to."
Hoseok just shook his head. "It's okay."
"W-well then, come on, tell me what's going on. Something, something's bothering you and I know it h-has to do with, with me. So, out with it," Yoongi said.
Hoseok swallowed hard, his gaze flitting around the small room, avoiding eye contact. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it just as quickly.
Yoongi sighed and took a seat on the closed toilet lid. He lifted his hand (and almost took it right back, but he needed to see this through, so he pressed on) and placed it on Hoseok's knee, making Hoseok fully look at him for the first time in weeks.
"Please talk to me," he said softly.
Hoseok closed his eyes. "Why do you want me to do that?"
Yoongi blinked in surprise. "Because I care about you," he said dumbly. It was the most obvious thing in the world to him; he had an idea of why Hoseok suddenly couldn't understand it but he hoped that wasn't the case.
"But," Hoseok sighed, "why?"
"Because...I love you?" Now Yoongi was just plain confused. "I've always loved you, honey, you know that. I don't...I've never said it often, but...I thought you always knew."
"I did, but—"
"Then what's going on with you?"
"What's going on is that you—you got kidnapped. You got tortured and...and..." Hoseok didn't finish, but he didn't have to.
"Oh," Yoongi said weakly, the humiliation he'd endured that night coming back fresh and stabbing through his gut, heating up his face, making his wrists itch. "That's what this is about."
"Of course it is!" Hoseok cried.
Yoongi winced at the raised volume, and he hoped Hoseok didn't notice. Yoongi hadn't forgotten, of course, just how much his partners had seen—he doubted he'd ever be able to forget a single second of it as long as he lived—but everyone else at least seemed to know that he'd had no control over what happened. The others could at least talk to him.
Maybe Hoseok didn't understand that the human body could be forced to react like that against a person's will.
Maybe he did understand and he just didn't care.
Maybe the worst part was that Yoongi couldn't even blame him.
Yoongi bit his lips and swallowed a few times in an attempt to banish the lump of heat that had formed in his throat. "I see," he said, inwardly cursing himself for the way his voice cracked and blinking rapidly to keep his tears at bay until it would be safe to let them fall. "I d—I didn't realize you, you were so ash-shamed of me. I w-won't bother you again."
He stood back up and started to leave.
"Ashamed?" Hoseok's voice stopped him in his tracks. "You think I'm ashamed of you?"
Yoongi didn't turn around, but he didn't keep walking, either. His legs felt like lead. He closed his eyes and hastily scrubbed the slipped tears off his cheeks with his sleeve. "...Aren't you?"
"No!" Hoseok exclaimed. "No, of course not, why would you think that? It was all my fault, anyway—I thought if anything that you should be the one avoiding me, but—"
"It wasn't your fault," Yoongi cut off Hoseok's rambling and slowly turned around to face him again. "If I don't...you don't get to...you can't think like that."
"But Iwas too restless to stay inside where it was safe," Hoseok continued, ignoring Yoongi when he tried to interrupt. "I was too eager to go in to work again even though we have computers and a dance space here in the apartment. And when we left, you got kidnapped and almost died, Jimin got tangled up in that sick bastard's game, and we all had to watch while that monster—while he—"
"So what?" Yoongi countered. "So fucking what? I probably would've been kidnapped, anyway! He escaped from jail, he blackmailed our driver, he could've gotten me as soon as I was alone without witnesses, regardless of when or where I went. You happened to be the first one to bring up work but I went with you, knowing something might happen. It was fucking inevitable, okay?"
With that, he turned on his heel and made his painful way back to the living room. He passed Taehyung on the way and wasn't surprised when the younger immediately shut and locked the bathroom door behind him.
Jimin was standing next to the sofa when Yoongi got back, likely having heard more than he should have. He looked restless, like he was just waiting for the opportunity to pull Yoongi into his arms. Yoongi almost let him. But then Jimin reached out to touch Yoongi's face—apparently, somewhere during the argument, Yoongi had absently scratched off a scab under his eye and blood was now dripping down his cheek—and Yoongi flinched.
"S-sor-ry," Yoongi whispered when he realized what he'd done. He wrapped his arms around himself and took a shaky step backwards. His still-healing wounds were sore as hell, his ribs ached, and his head was pounding. The pain made him hunch further into himself and he bit back a sob of shame.
"Don't be," Jimin murmured. He offered Yoongi his hand and a sad smile. "Come on."
Jimin sat Yoongi down in his wheelchair and pushed him to the stairs, where he kept an arm around Yoongi's waist as they climbed. Yoongi was out of breath with pain and the strain on his ribs by the time they reached the top, but luckily, he got to sit on the closed toilet lid of the upstairs bathroom. Jimin wet a washcloth under the tap and reached for Yoongi's face again—slower, this time, so Yoongi had a chance to prepare for it—and gently wiped the congealing trail of blood from Yoongi's cheek.
"All done," Jimin said softly once the scar had stopped bleeding. "Our room or the loft?" he asked. He didn't have to elaborate.
"Our room," Yoongi said with a small, tired, but grateful smile.
Jimin nodded and, since Yoongi didn't have a mobility aid with him, scooped Yoongi into his arms. Yoongi let out a squeak and it took the entire time Jimin carried him to the bed to regain his composure. Jimin tossed a blanket over him and kissed his cheek.
"I'll be right back," Jimin told him before slinking out of the room. He returned barely a minute later with a large bowl in his hands, shutting the door silently behind him.
"Jin won't like us eating so close to dinnertime," Yoongi pointed out halfheartedly.
"Trust me, I know." Jimin handed Yoongi the bowl, which Yoongi could now see held an assortment of sliced fruits and berries. "Do you know how sneaky I had to be to get past him while he was evicting Holly from the kitchen for the millionth time?"
"Um, very?" Yoongi guessed, popping a slice of tangerine into his mouth. He couldn't help but smile at the taste.
"Exactly." Jimin crawled into bed, lying diagonally across the mattress and using Yoongi as a pillow. "I'm practically a ninja."
"Of course you are." Yoongi placed the bowl beside him and curled around Jimin's warmth, gladly accepting Jimin's head back into his lap. He fed Jimin a grape while threading his other hand into Jimin's hair. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes ago that they'd been in a similar position on the sofa, but it felt like hours and hours had passed. Yoongi was exhausted. And he was more grateful than words could express that Jimin somehow knew what he needed and how to provide it when Yoongi himself had no clue.
Yoongi needed comfort. He needed a distraction from what had just transpired between himself and his second-eldest boyfriend. Outside of a rap verse, Yoongi had never been much of a confrontational person, in the first place (when caught in a dispute with a loved one, he generally preferred giving the Silent Treatment to taking part in head-on arguments), but raising his voice was something to which he'd never resorted, especially at one of his life partners.
Yoongi shuddered and bit down a little too hard on the small, out-of-season strawberry that Jimin nudged between his lips, his teeth meeting with an audible clack. He sighed.
Jimin lifted his head from Yoongi's lap and tossed a blueberry into the air. He caught it in his mouth and looked over at Yoongi, some mix of pride and apprehension in his eyes, like he wanted to be acknowledged for the trick he'd just pulled off but didn't want to make it obvious that he was showing off just for the praise.
Yoongi sniffed a smile. "Nice," he said, and Jimin laid back down, satisfied with the response. The two of them were quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought as they munched on the fruit, before Jimin spoke.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Yoongi shook his head, though he knew Jimin couldn't see it from where he was lying. "Not really," he muttered.
"That's fair," Jimin conceded. "But I think you should know that, at least from what I heard, I think there's been some miscommunication."
Yoongi propped himself up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," Jimin said simply. There was a beat of silence. "He isn't ashamed of you, you know. None of us are."
Yoongi laid back down and closed his stinging eyes. "He won't even say the word, Jimin," he whispered.
"What? What word?"
"Rape," Yoongi said, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. "He won't say the word 'rape'. Like he's trying to pretend it never even happened. And I thought it was because he thought..."
"Thought what?" Jimin prompted.
"That I...that it was...consensual. That I...I don't know, cheated. But apparently he blames himself?" Yoongi was still having a hard time wrapping his head around that. "I thought I just...I thought he blamed me, or...or thought I wanted it, or something. Hell, I'm kind of surprised youdon't think that. You saw the most...really, do none of you think differently of me after what happened?"
"Of course we don't," Jimin said firmly. "We all know you didn't want it. And as for that aspect, I understand that you couldn't control how your body reacted. It was just...biology, right?"
Yoongi bit his lips and took a shaky breath through his prickling nose. "R-right."
Jimin turned his head just in time to see the first tear trickle into Yoongi's hair. "Okay," he said, taking the all-but-forgotten bowl of fruit and setting it on the bedside table to make space for himself next to Yoongi. He draped an arm over Yoongi's chest and held him close, rubbing his hand back and forth across Yoongi's shoulder. "It's okay."
"It's not," Yoongi croaked, furiously blinking so his stupid eyes would stop making those stupid tears, but it didn't work. "It's not okay."
Jimin sighed. "It's not...but it will be. And for what it's worth, I think you and Hobi are on the right track."
Yoongi scoffed out a wet, humorless chuckle. "What, by yelling at each other?"
"By talking to each other," Jimin corrected, brushing the tears off of Yoongi's cheeks. "The two of you have rarely bumped heads in the time we've been together, but whenever you do, things always get worse before they get better. Because you avoid the problem instead of confronting it. Because you're both too full of pride and self-hatred to say what you mean. You rappers are good at that."
"Wow, Jimin. Don't hold back. Tell me what you really think."
Jimin huffed a laugh through his nose and lightly smacked Yoongi's arm. "The point is, it's good that you're talking. I can't promise your next few talks won't also be arguments, but at this point, it looks like the only way out is through. You just have to trust that, in time, one of you will give in and see the other person's side. Hopefully, Hobi will see your side first, but still. It couldn't hurt to consider his point of view."
Yoongi pondered Jimin's words for a minute, a reverent smile slowly tugging at the corners of his lips. "Jimin?"
"Yeah?" Jimin said, sounding almost confused.
Yoongi sniffed and finally gave a proper smile, his tears dry. "You're really wise, you know that?"
Jimin laughed.
"No, I mean it," Yoongi insisted.
Jimin wriggled impossibly closer and rested his head in the crook of Yoongi's neck. "I guess it's just easy to give advice from the outside looking in. Easier to be objective when you see both sides, you know? But also, I guess I just...process things differently than most people."
"Hmm. Have I ever told you how much I lo-love you?" Yoongi asked rhetorically, not even embarrassed by his stammer.
"Maybe once or twice," Jimin said with a minute shrug. Yoongi could hear the smirk in Jimin's voice, muffled against his shoulder. "I suppose I could stand to hear you say it a little more often."
Yoongi rolled his eyes before rolling over, reaching out and turning Jimin's face up. "I love you."
Jimin's smirk turned into an innocent, love-drunk grin, counterbalanced by sad eyes that had shed far too many tears in his short lifetime. "And I love you more than all the stars in the sky."