Jungkook hadn't woken him for dinner, and so not only did Hoseok wake up unfathomably hungry, but he also found himself trembling under the oppressive weight of Hell's cold. It was as though the temperature had dropped overnight, though Hoseok knew that couldn't be possible.
His body was beginning to weaken.
Yoongi had warned him. A week or two, at most. Four days had already passed since Hoseok had entered Hell, and he wasn't too eager to find out if he was on the lower end of that morbid spectrum.
"Hyung," Jungkook's voice called from the other side of the comforter. "I'm sorry for not waking you for dinner. I figured you would've wanted some time to...cool off before I bothered you again."
There was a pregnant pause, one that made Hoseok break out in a cold sweat because how was he supposed to respond? He often got snappy with Jungkook, but never to yesterday's extent. It was a verbal beating, practically, and Hoseok had never felt more ashamed for his quick temper than at that moment.
"Do you..." Jungkook said, his voice small and hesitant. "Do you want to eat breakfast alone today?"
Hoseok startled.
He didn't want to be left alone. He desperately needed Jungkook's company. He couldn't see through his own grief without Jungkook there. Even with how much he silently urged Jungkook to go to Yoongi's side, Hoseok would be the first to admit he'd be miserable without Jungkook there to stop him from tethering himself to the couch.
"No," he muttered. He threw his legs off the couch and curled the tips of his toes away from the ice-cold floor. "Let's eat together." He wrapped the corners of the comforter around his shoulders and peered up at Jungkook's surprised expression. "Please."
Jungkook's face relaxed into another tender smile as he reached for Hoseok's trembling hands. "Of course, hyung."
Breakfast was silent, as always. Hoseok was slower to eat, however, because his gaze was intent on the stereo before him.
He wasn't mad about it. He never was, really—always livid with himself, never anything else, never anyone else. It was just...
He felt awkward. Not with the stereo itself, per se, but rather the implications it held. There was that underlying fact that Hoseok wouldn't—nor Jungkook, for that matter—just listen to the tracks it held. Because their memories may have been lost, but their bodies would always remember: the imprint of dance—that unfathomable conjoining of mind, body, and soul to create such vast forms of art.
"Since there's no radio down here," Jungkook began, breaking Hoseok free from his silent stare down, "he offered up some of his old CDs for us to use. Stuff from the nineties. Retro. Hip-hop."
Hoseok hummed noncommittally, poking at his leftover bacon with his fork. Though his attention was quick to trail back to the stereo, unchanged in its demeanor and use. Though, now there was an added curiosity. Because did Jungkook's neighbor like the same artists as him? What other styles were hidden in that untouched port? Would it be nostalgic, something from Hoseok's faraway childhood, or alien, a new sound to experiment with, to test the limits of his rhythm, his body—
"Jungkook," Hoseok said softly.
"Hyung?" Jungkook answered, suitably surprised by the initiated conversation.
Hoseok swallowed down the dread, the guilt, the self-loathing, and croaked out, "Can you play a disk?"
Jungkook was on his feet before Hoseok had finished his request, hurrying toward the front entrance, hastily coming back up to the dining table with two bagfuls of CDs. "Pick whatever catches your fancy," he said, backing away when Hoseok's trembling hand delved into the bag's gaping maws.
There were foreign letters and characters scribbled out with sharpie onto the CDs' cases, very few having near-illegible hangul painted across that clear plastic. Besides the apparent show of the music's language via the artist's name, something scrawled along the top, and Hoseok presumed it to be the album's title. It was reminiscent of the days he couldn't afford the newest digital release and got a spare CD from one of his friends years later—when it had already been made irrelevant.
"This one," Hoseok concluded. The artist was foreign, and Hoseok remembered enough from English class to know that the letters staring up at him were not English.
Jungkook took the CD from his hands, popped open the case, and slid the disk into the port. With a click of the lid and press of a button, the stereo was cracking to life.
There were a few moments of static noise, and Hoseok feared that Jungkook had been juped, but his fears were put to rest when the first notes sang high and clear into the air. It was a mellow song, something Hoseok could easily see himself performing an emotional contemporary with.
He sat there, bundled up in the comforter and listening with half-lidded eyes, and startled from his near-dream when Jungkook began approaching him.
"What?" he said when Jungkook stood at his side, staring down at him with bright eyes.
"Dance with me?" Jungkook asked as he held out a hand.
Hoseok felt himself bristle, denial sharp on his tongue because he was gone, gone, gone. But the longer he stared into Jungkook's eyes, the more inclination he felt. To move. To free himself from the chains he'd placed upon himself. To dance.
Wordlessly, Hoseok dropped the comforter and took Jungkook's hand.
Although Hoseok claimed that their bodies could remember, there was the undeniable fact that they were much too rusty to do even half of what Hoseok had taught in his studio. So they settled with a slow sway of their bodies, embracing loosely and supporting one another when their limbs became too lazy. When their hearts became too cumbersome.
"I miss him," Hoseok muttered, and he tucked himself into the crook of Jungkook's neck. Because Jungkook was warm. Because Jungkook was kind.
"I know, hyung," Jungkook murmured, warm, gentle hands coming up to rub Hoseok's back.
"Is this okay? Is...allowing myself this moment okay?"
"Of course, hyung."
Hoseok swallowed back the tears he knew were going to come anyway. "We should go check on Yoongi-ssi. I'm worried about him."
"Of course, hyung."
"Kook?"
"Hyung?"
"Thank you."
Hoseok could feel Jungkook smile into the crown of his head.
"Of course, hyung."
A/N - emo hours: closing.