"Hey," Hoseok said to Seokjin as he stumbled to his desk, slamming his palms onto the counter. "Do you...remember Jungkook-ah?"
Seokjin looked at him with a mixture of concern and bewilderment.
"Uh, the demon kid that got trapped in Hell? Yeah, but what about him?"
Hoseok leaned onto his elbow as he dragged a palm down his face.
"I met him. This morning."
He peeked through his fingers when the silence dragged itself out.
"What?" he barked when he noticed the funny look Seokjin was giving him.
"Are you, like, hallucinating from grief?"
Hoseok felt his nostrils flare.
"It's been three years, hyung. And he's not dead," he tacked on.
"And where, pray tell, did you meet Jungkook-ah if not in Hell?"
"In front of a"—his breath hitched from something like realization—"dance studio..."
Seokjin let out an exclamation of interest, leaning forward with a grin.
"Wow, it's been a while since you've last danced. How did you manage to find the time with this job?"
"I wasn't dancing..."
Hoseok's tongue felt heavy in his mouth as decade-old memories invaded his mind.
"I'm—I've gotta go."
Hoseok's blood roared in his ears and drowned out Seokjin's shout of protest. His footsteps thundered in his head as he sprinted down the emergency stairwell, a sense of urgency beyond the elevator's speed compelled him to jump the last two steps. He pushed through the front doors and chased after the bus that had begun its slow retreat from the stop.
Once boarded, he paid the fee and collapsed into an empty seat as he heaved in the bus's artificially heated air. The ride from his office to the studio would take about ninety minutes, so he had time to strategize. Because their meeting may have been brief, but there was one thing Hoseok was able to glean from Jungkook's behavior: He didn't remember Hoseok.
--
"He told you about that, didn't he?" Yoongi had said, voice gruff and sleep-heavy. "It's the side-effects of a less than perfect ritual."
The ritual required to turn a demon into a human will sap up all of their individuality, but not their humanity.
"Memories included, huh?" Hoseok had mused.
"Price to pay when you entrust yourself to a newbie." A yawn crackled through the receiver. "Just spend some time with him, and he'll remember—just like last time."
And he had hung up, leaving Hoseok with more worries than before. Because what if Jungkook wouldn't be able to remember him even if he spent every waking hour with him? What if Jungkook didn't want to remember him? What would Hoseok do then? Pretend he never saw him and go on with his life like he wasn't ignoring possibly the most important person he had ever known?
But all those what-ifs and concerns were meaningless because Hoseok was already sitting in his designated corner and watching Jungkook as he taught his newly implemented morning lessons. Which led to even more questions. Had Jungkook been spending his time as a human relearning his love for dance, or had it always been there? How long had it been since he escaped Hell? Did Hoseok miss his chance to welcome him back because he had been too much of a coward to revisit the library?
Hoseok's head was too full, too noisy, and not even the sharp, clear commands of Jungkook's voice could drown out his thoughts.
It was nearing noon when Jungkook announced the end of his lessons. His students cheered and jeered, and Hoseok watched as Jungkook played along with them, buddy-buddy with a few upstanding kids and fondly endeared by the underdogs.
It was as he committed to his signature cackle—a rather witty retort rippling through the friend group—when his eyes met Hoseok. Hoseok froze, a feeling of fear seizing his body, and yet he found himself unable to look away. Maybe it was a childish wish, an absurd belief that the eyes were truly the windows to the soul, and Jungkook would remember what he once claimed his.
His breath caught in his throat when Jungkook began to approach him.
Toes a hair's breadth away from each other, Jungkook lumbering down onto the ground to have even eye-level with Hoseok, Hoseok well and truly thought his soul had been seen.
"Why..." Jungkook began, eyes hesitating to meet Hoseok's for a moment before his gaze hardened with a hidden resolve. "I've heard from the other teacher that you don't dance. Why not?"
Hoseok, tried as he might, wasn't able to keep his expression from becoming crestfallen, and he saw it over Jungkook's shoulder, his own reflection in the mirror, as the hope left his eyes.
"Is it money trouble?" Jungkook continued, seemingly oblivious to Hoseok's silent agony. "The lessons here are pretty cheap compared to other studios, but I give discounts to the students who arrive before me, so it shouldn't be much trouble for you." He let out a quiet gasp, as though a sudden realization had dawned on him. "But if you were here for the evening lessons, then..."
"I'll take your lessons!" Hoseok blurted before he could stop himself. He'd been desperately trying to keep himself from saying anything stupid during Jungkook's entire spiel, and the lack of caffeine and sleep had finally gotten the best of him when he saw the growing disappointment in Jungkook's bright, bright eyes.
Jungkook's eyes went wider than ever with surprise. "Really? But—"
"Starting tomorrow," Hoseok interrupted, standing from the floor and briskly walking toward the door. He looked over his shoulder to meet Jungkook's wide-eyed stare resolutely. "I'm taking that discount from you, you brat." He slammed the door behind himself before Jungkook's indignant yelp could reach his ears.
Approximately half a block away from the studio, Hoseok collapsed against a wall and screamed into his palm.
A/N - how to confront your past 101