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Seokjin Kim was a business major with a 3.8 GPA.
He worked hard on his classes not because business was his passion, but because he found that his parents were more willing to accept his sexuality if he followed their career advice.
“That and it helps that my older brother was accepted into Harvard Medical School,” Seokjin explained. He turned over the bulgogi on the grill.
Across from him sat Hoseok Jung, who amazed Seokjin by managing to eat without getting food stuck in his snakebite piercings.
“That’s how you chose your major?” Hoseok asked in disbelief.
“Yep.”
Hoseok’s eyes widened. “You gave up pursuing your dream, just so you can fuck boys with your parent’s approval?”
“First of all,” Seokjin spoke as he cooked the meat, “they don’t know about the fucking part. They still think I’m a virgin.”
Hoseok laughed.
Seokjin glared.
Hoseok pulled a straight face.
Seokjin looked back at the meat and continued to talk, “Second, I didn’t have a dream. I applied to college because they told me to.”
Hoseok blinked at him. “You weren’t interested in anything?”
“Nope.”
“You can’t be serious,” Hoseok scoffed, “Not even when you were a kid?”
“When I was five I wanted to be an actor,” Seokjin said with a shrug, “but that dream died when I realized they would never take a Korean actor seriously. I didn’t want to be type casted.” He split the bulgogi between his plate and Hoseok’s.
“You were born in the wrong country,” Hoseok sympathized, “With a face like that you would have made it big in dramas.”
Seokjin laughed lightly, “Yeah but then I would have to join the military for 2 years.”
“Namjoon’s trying to get out of that,” Hoseok said.
“He was born in South Korea?”
“Yeah. That’s why his hangul is so good, he was there for elementary school,” Hoseok explained. He bit into the bulgogi.
“I should pay him to do my homework,” Seokjin said.
“Mph’ll do ith,” Hoseok spoke with his mouthful of beef.
Seokjin stared.
Hoseok swallowed and spoke again, “He’ll do it.”
“Is that how you finished your foreign language requirements?” Seokjin asked with a smirk.
Hoseok smiled a half smile, one that only pulled the right half of his face, “I paid him in pizza.”
They both laughed. Seokjin’s laugh was softer than Hoseok’s.
Hoseok laughed with his whole body, his shoulders shook with each breath.
Seokjin still pulled back. He still ended conversations abruptly and glared when he should smile. He held back, he knew. He still didn’t let go completely.
Seokjin didn’t know if Hoseok noticed. If he knew he didn’t mention it.
Hoseok poured more sprite for both of them.
“Congratulations on getting on the front page,” Hoseok held up his glass.
“It’s just the school newspaper. No one even reads it,” Seokjin said. He clinked his glass with Hoseok’s
“It’s still cool,” Hoseok said with a smirk “hyung.”
Seokjin stared.
Hoseok stared back.
Three hours later and Seokjin was still staring. Except it wasn’t in the dim lighting of the barbecue restaurant. It was up at the ceiling of the college apartments. With the sound of Hoseok snoring next to him.
Seokjin stared at Hoseok’s face.
His eyeliner was smudged. His lips were swollen.
Seokjin had done that to him. Again.
Seokjin slapped himself in the face.
Yoongi was awake when Seokjin returned to his apartment.
Seokjin would have been home sooner, but he had been pinned to the matress by Hoseok’s arm, and then had to navigate through a minefield of dirty laundry, old homework assignments, and half empty chip bags on the floor.
Seokjin should have stayed longer. Then he wouldn’t have to endure the shame induced by his roommate.
Yoongi sat at the coffee table, his laptop open, his stupid oversized headphones on, his stupid biology notebook in his lap, a muscle tank that displayed his stupid sleeved tattoos, and a stupid shit eating grin on his face.
He stared.
Seokjin stared back.
Yoongi slowly slid off the headphones and said, in a tone of pure delight, “2 hours.”
Seokjin groaned. He fell face first on the couch.
“You said you would be back in 2 hours.”
Seokjin groaned again.
“2 hours, you bragged. You would take 2 hours to enjoy the very expensive barbecue that he was paying for and then you would dump his ass and leave.”
Seokjin gripped onto the pink pillow case and groaned louder.
“And then you get home at 3 in the morning looking like you got mauled by a vampire.”
Seokjin covered his neck with his hands.
He turned to glare at his roommate.
Yoongi’s smile had only grown wider. The bastard.
“I don’t know why I expected differently. You’re the kind of slut that only thinks with his stomach.”
“I’m a shame to all sluts,” Seokjin whined. He rolled over to face the ceiling.
He glared.
He covered his eyes with his arm and whispered, “Fuck.”
“I didn’t know punks were your type,” Yoongi said as he turned back to his laptop, “I could have introduced you to some guys.”
“They’re not my type,” Seokjin said, “My type is rich and arrogant. The kind of guy who wants me so he can cross Asians off his fuck list.”
“Hoseok’s broke as fuck,” Yoongi said.
“I know.”
“He’s not your type at all,” Yoongi said, his interest in the conversation waned.
“I know.”
“So why are you still with him?” Yoongi asked.
Seokjin removed his arm.
He stared up at the ceiling.
He remember Hoseok’s ceiling. And the cracked roof of the campus apartment.
He shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“Cool story,” Yoongi said. His tone bored, already focused on his biology notes.
Seokjin stared at the roof.
Seokjin wasn’t Hoseok’s type either.
Hoseok liked short submissive boys who whined in bed and begged to be fucked. He loved bending them over, pulling on their hair, and hearing them scream.
He especially loved the ones that would wait by the stage door after a performance who were ready to praise him.
Seokjin hates the band.
“He complains that we’re too loud,” Hoseok said.
“Then why are you dating him?” Jungkook asked in a disinterested tone as he tuned his guitar.
“Who could resist a face like his?” Hoseok said.
Jungkook rolled his eyes.
Hoseok prodded him with a drum stick, “Come on, and admit it. Even you want to hit that.”
Jungkook glared.
At that moment Namjoon walked into the practice room, with his backpack, his guitar case, and Taehyung trailing behind him.
“Hoseok leave the high schooler alone, he shouldn’t be hitting on anything,” Namjoon scolded Hoseok.
Hoseok turned his smirk to Namjoon, “In high school I got blowjobs in the bathroom.” He hit the cymbals for emphasis.
Namjoon scoffed, “Jungkook isn’t you.”
“Thank god,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.
Namjoon passed out the printed papers, “I finalized the set list for next Saturday. On Sunday we’ll work on creating more original songs.”
“Three days grace?” Hoseok asked as he read over the page, “Will the crowd know these songs?”
“It’s a nostalgia performance, for the good old early high school years,” Namjoon explained as he pulled out his guitar. He strummed a few chords, “They’ll sound good with Taehyung’s lower register.”
Taehyung looked up from his bass as Jungkook stopped tuning his guitar. “You want me to be lead vocals?”
“Yeah. Your voice is better for these songs,” Namjoon said, is gaze still occupied on his guitar.
“But,” Taehyung said while looking at the song list, “But Jungkook usually sings lead.”
“Jungkook can do all the screams.”
“Namjoon I-”
“Let’s see how this Saturday goes,” Namjoon interrupted Taehyung, “If your voice cracks then Jungkook can sing next time, okay?”
Taehyung glanced at Jungkook, who refused to look at him.
“Namjoon let’s start, I have homework to finish,” Jungkook said. His tone icier than normal.
Taehyung looked back at the ground.
They ran through the warm ups. Then they ran through the set list.
Then they ran through it again.
And again. And again.
Hoseok leaned onto Seokjin’s chest as soon as he opened the door.
“I feel like my hands are going to fall off,” Hoseok mumbled into Seokjin’s shoulder.
Seokjin awkwardly maneuvered Hoseok so he was in the apartment and Seokjin could close the door.
“Yeah?” Seokjin asked, he hoisted Hoseok onto his shoulder, “Why are your hands going to fall off?”
“Because Namjoon is a sadist,” Hoseok mumbled. Seokjin carried Hoseok to his room and dropped him on the bed. Hoseok instinctively curled into Seokjin’s body size pillow. “He had us practice us all afternoon.”
“You can’t be serious?” Seokjin scoffed. Hoseok heard him shuffle around the room.
Hoseok nodded, “Four hours straight.”
Hoseok heard Seokjin pause, then continue moving.
“Do you want ice for your hands?”
“No,” Hoseok mumbled, “But water would be nice.”
He felt a cold water bottle press to his cheek. He smiled, and took it. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Seokjin said, awkwardness in his tone.
Hoseok bet Seokjin was doing that thing where he shifted his weight from one foot to another. Seokjin always did that when he was unsure of himself. He did it the other night when Hoseok had asked if he wanted to go to his place. Hoseok found it adorable. Hoseok wanted to tell Seokjin that he was adorable.
The bed shifted with Seokjin’s added weight. “I have a paper I need to finish,” he said.
“That’s fine,” Hoseok said. He curled further into the pillow. “I didn’t come here for sex.”
“Then why are you here?” Seokjin asked.
Hoseok opened his eyes slowly. He saw Seokjin’s 3DS plugged into its charger. And his planner opened to the current week, colored ink all over the pages.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “I walked out of the practice room, took a bus and ended up here.”
A pause.
Seokjin started to type on his laptop.
Hoseok turned towards him.
Seokjin wore an old shirt, the print on the front looked like a faded baseball. Probably a shirt from his high school years. He mentioned being a shortstop once. Or was he on second base? Hoseok couldn’t remember, the conversation happened weeks ago.
The conversation had happened in that room, after their third date. When Seokjin had worn that black shirt with the top 3 buttons open. Hoseok had stared at Seokjin’s neck as he swallowed, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and said in one breath “My roommate isn’t home.”
And Hoseok’s heart had skipped a beat, and he had smiled and stepped in Seokjin’s space, “So?”
“So,” Seokjin’s gaze had been steady but his red cheeks betrayed him, “Do you want to come over?”
And Hoseok had whispered yes against Seokjin’s lips.
And instead of leaving immediately Hoseok had stayed long enough to discuss high school and sports.
“Coach said my hands weren’t good for pitching,” Seokjin had said as Hoseok had traced his palms.
Seokjin had long gangly fingers. They weren’t good for pitching but they felt great when wrapped around Hoseok’s dick, or stretching him open.
Apparently they were good for typing papers. Hoseok watched Seokjin’s fingers fly across the keyboard as he typed out his essay. Hoseok watched Seokjin’s face, his eyes stared at the screen. He wore glasses this time.
“I’ve never seen you in glasses,” Hoseok said.
Seokjin spoke without looking away from the screen, “I usually wear contacts, but I prefer glasses for schoolwork. I told you that.”
“I know,” Hoseok said, his voice drowsy, “But still, it’s my first time.”
The typing sound was nice. A steady rhythm that lulled him. He could play the drums to this.
Hoseok grabbed Seokjin’s wrist and placed it on his head.
“Really?” Seokjin asked.
Hoseok whined.
Seokjin stroked his hair.
Hoseok made a happy noise.
Seokjin laughed. “How am I supposed to write my essay?”
“Use your other hand,” Hoseok mumbled.
Seokjin laughed again. He wheezed when he laughed. It sounded like the squeak made when windows are washed. Hoseok had never heard Seokjin laugh like that before.
Hoseok’s heart skipped a beat.
Hoseok’s band was the opener. Seokjin got to the club an hour early so he could sit at a table for the performance.
The headliner was a classic rock cover band that the crowd went crazy for.
“I don’t understand,” Seokjin said.
After Hoseok’s band performed. After Hoseok had made his way to Seokjin’s table and surprised Seokjin by kissing the wind out of him before sitting down in the stool next to his.
“What don’t you understand?” Hoseok asked. He was still high off the performance, still high off the kiss, Seookjin could see his hands shake with the adrenaline.
“Why a cover band is more popular than you. They don’t play any original songs,” Seokjin said.
Hoseok shrugged. His hands moved with each word he spoke, “Because the crowd can sing along to every song they play. That and Daehyun has a serious set of pipes. He can easily reach all of Steven Tyler’s high notes.”
“Not Freddy Mercury’s?” Seokjin asked.
“Nah, he hasn’t quite reached Queen level yet,” Hoseok said.
His hair was gelled up. His eyeliner was thick. He wore a fishnet shirt and nothing underneath. Seokjin knew this because under the blinding stage lights Hoseok’s nipples were clearly seen. Here it was too dark, but Seokjin still knew. Seokjin’s throat dried.
“Did you like the performance?” Hoseok asked.
“I liked it,” Seokjin said. He hadn’t liked the music. But he liked watching Hoseok at the back of the stage passionately playing the drums. Seokjin didn’t tell him that. Instead, he said, “The new guy has a good voice.”
“Yeah Taehyungie does. Jungkookie isn’t happy about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was the lead singer, but I think Namjoon likes Taehyung’s voice more,” Hoseok said. He drank from Seokjin’s beer. “Now Jungkook looks at Taehyung like he wants to kill him.”
“Poor kids.”
“These things happen.”
The headliner began their set, and the crowd screamed with them. Seokjin cringed. Hoseok laughed.
Hoseok pulled Seokjin to the back, where they band rooms were, and pressed Seokjin against the wall. Hoseok kissed Seokjin. Hoseok nibbled on Seokjin’s bottom lip and moaned into his mouth. Seokjin leaned into it, and his hands firmly gripped Hoseok’s hips. Seokjin pulled away when Hoseok palmed his crotch. “I am not getting a blowjob back here.”
Hoseok pouted, he genuinely pouted. “Why not? It’s fun, I promise.”
Seokjin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow.”
Hoseok smirked.
Seokjin shook his head.
He kissed Hoseok, from his collar to his neck to the soft skin behind his ear. Hoseok moaned against him. “We could go back to my place,” Seokjin whispered in Hoseok’s ear, “I could push you against the wall, get on my knees, and blow you.”
Hoseok shuddered and smiled, “Sounds great.”
He lightly pushed on Seokjin, Seokjin released him with a smirk.
“I have to help the guys load up the van, then we can go,” Hoseok said.
“Do you need help?”
“No thanks, we got this,” Hoseok started stepping away. He paused. He turned back around. “We have to be quick, I’ve got practice early in the morning.”
“How early?”
“Nine.”
Seokjin blinked. “That is early.”
“I know. But I messed up a couple of times tonight, and I don’t want that to happen again.”
“You’re practicing by yourself?”
“Everyone will meet at noon.” And with one final wink he left.
Seokjin leaned against. His face just a little bit warmer.
If he had to be honest, this is what kept his attention. Hoseok’s devotion to the band, Hoseok’s diligence when it came to music. Seokjin had never had that kind of drive for anything in his life. Not even for the newspaper. Especially not for his business classes.
Hoseok came back. He had his drumsticks in his back pocket and a black hoodie on. “We can leave now,” he said with a smirk.
Seokjin’s arm went around Hoseok’s shoulder. A first. Hoseok didn’t push it off. He leaned against Seokjin and wrapped an arm around his waist.
“Did I tell you that you look hot tonight?”
Seokjin smiled, “You say I look hot every night.”
“I know but you look like extra super hot tonight. Eleven out of ten would get on all fours and take it up the ass. Which I’m totally down for if you want.”
That thought had crossed Seokjin’s mind, but another one had overpowered it.
“Actually, I wanted to see your face tonight,” Seokjin said.
He couldn’t look Hoseok in the eye.
“Oh,” Hoseok said, tone unsure. “That’s a first.”
A pause in the conversation. They reached Seokjin’s Prius.
“I could ride you?” Hoseok suggested.
Seokjin stared at him. At his snakebites, at his eyeliner. That wasn’t what he meant.
“Sure,” Seokjin agreed
Because Seokjin wasn’t ready to think of the alternative. He wasn’t ready to face the wave of the emotions that came with maintaining eye contact, and kissing occasionally, and holding hands as they came at the same time.
Seokjin wasn’t ready for that.
But he held Hoseok’s hand on the drive back to his apartment.