for lazychaoz: the pursuit of happiness

[bangtanmod]

Also on AO3.

Title: The Pursuit of Happiness
Recipient: lazychaoz
Pairing: 2seok ft. past!taejin
Rating: PG
Word count: 7013
Warnings none
Summary: Happiness is not a stagnant state. Nor can it be measured by the accumulation of materialistic goods.
Seokjin learns the hard way.
Author's notes: A round of applause for T, who held my hand and fed me 2seok feels all the way. For her endless patience and encouragement as my beta; the Jung Hoseok to my Kim Seokjin. With special thanks to E and S for their support. Without them, this fic would have never been completed.

ACT 1

Yoongi tugs at his already loosened tie, plopping himself down in front of Seokjin without an invitation.

"Any plans this afternoon?" Yoongi says between bites of store bought bread. Seokjin eyes it in disapproval — less about the crinkling of the plastic wrapper and more about how unhealthy it is — before taking a bite of rice. Yesterday’s left overs make great lunches.

"I’m tutoring," Seokjin says. You know that, he implies.

The younger grunts. “You aren’t even getting paid.”

"I happen to like the kid," Seokjin says in his defense, "and I get a free meal out of it despite being far from qualified."

Yoongi doesn’t understand and Seokjin never expected him to.

"What are you doing after graduation?" Jeongguk asks between math problem set nineteen and twenty. Seokjin knows that he’s stalling for time.

He pauses for a moment. It’s not as if he hasn’t thought about it… not when graduation is just six months away. In the end, Seokjin decides to be honest and answers: “I don’t know.”

"Shouldn’t you be—" preparing for exams, selecting a future university to attend, thinking about the prospects of the future? Yes, he should. But where does one begin when he doesn’t even have an idea about what he wants to do in the future.

"What about you?" Seokjin deflects the question before a headache begins.

The boy’s eyes light up.

"I want to produce music or become a tattoo artist."

A smile grows on Seokjin’s lips because it reminds him of his five year old self spouting things of becoming a doctor or a singer or a princess because children are impractical and parents are indulgent. “That’s good,” he says as he reaches over to ruffle the other’s hair.

There’s a scowl on Jeongguk’s face that amuses Seokjin even more. “Hyung…” the younger whines half heatedly, “do you really not know? Are there any subjects that interest you or things you find yourself enjoying?”

Seokjin’s pencil taps at the workbook, indicating the boy to continue while he tries to answer. He doesn’t excel at anything and none of the subjects particularly capture his interest. He’s just an “average student” to the core.

As for other activities… they are hobbies at most. If individuals could make a living enjoying music and watching films then the world would be rich already.

A long time ago he asked Yoongi what he wanted to do in the future just because the boy’s heart was never at school. And after he had conveyed his future aspirations of rapping, he began to rant.

"They are training us for a 9 to 5 job, Seokjin," and the elder indulges Yoongi in another conspiracy theory. "Do you really wish to be imprisoned in a life where you clock in and out? I don’t."

There’s nothing really wrong about that sort of stability, a routine they are trained to follow since childhood. Well, maybe except boredom. Not that Seokjin would mind necessarily — being clad in a suit and tie, becoming one of the average citizens, Samsung’s wage isn’t all that bad.

Yet the heart seems to disagree. When Jeongguk speaks up again to indicate that he’s finished the problem set, Seokjin’s mind presents yet another memory. He’s young and running across the stage, dressed up as the prince for the play. The audience’s faces are a blur and he doesn’t even bother to try to locate his parents. His lines are delivered perfectly and then Kim Seokjin becomes Prince Charming and he forgets about everything: the stage lights too warm and bright, the applause from the crowd, the fake props in the background. When it all ends, when it’s time for hands to clasp hands for the final bow, he remembers a smile painted on his face and a heart swelling from joy.

"Acting," it comes out as nothing more than a word exhaled but the grin on Jeongguk’s face provides encouragement nonetheless.

Preference sheet pulled out of his grasp before Seokjin has the time to react. “Kongkuk University department of acting?” Yoongi seems to muse before demanding, “I thought you didn’t want to make it big.”

"I don’t," Seokjin confirms, "just thought that I could give it a shot." Wouldn’t hurt would it? If all else fails, he can always fall back to the sort of jobs Yoongi despises.

"Interesting…" And he leaves it at that. There’s something unspoken about how Seokjin had reached such a conclusion, with whom’s help, but the younger boy just seems delighted that the elder had finally settled on some idea of a future.

ACT 2

It’s deafening but Seokjin doesn’t quite mind. Not when Yoongi is rapping his soul out and the entire crowd is enjoying it. Of course he is too, thankfully obscured by the thralls of humans and the dimly lit space, but his friend doesn’t need to know.

"What kind of name is Suga?” Seokjin comments while wrinkling his nose as Yoongi approaches.

"Because I’m sweet like one?" the other retorts. It’s only because Yoongi has brought a cohort of his people that Seokjin refrains from snorting in response. "Hey, it’s better than Runch Randa," Yoongi introduces his friend.

"Kim Namjoon," the man offers with a nod of his head, one that Seokjin returns along with his own name. It’s the first of many he learns that night.

Maybe it’s because he’s bored or maybe because Yoongi has left him to his own devices or maybe it’s because Seokjin doesn’t quite mind Namjoon that he’s somehow sharing a conversation with the rapper. It’s one about the past, about aspirations, about making it big and having people listen to his music. It is about starting in 2007 and coming across those who share dreams and passion, people he can call brothers. Seokjin can understand — to some extent — seen Yoongi go through the entire process and felt happy for him. Not all who dream of escape make it.

"I was offered an opportunity the other day," the boy begins (not an adequate descriptor but despite being two years younger, Seokjin feels like he’s accomplished not even half of what Namjoon has done). "Become an idol, create a group like 1TYM."

"Did you take it?" he asks, almost gingerly like the way he takes his drink.

"I was told to sit on it." It’s not an answer so Seokjin searches the other’s face for it.

"I said no but…" fist clenches around glass and the ice cubes clink against the sides, "there’s definitely more exposure but the inflexibility of creativity and production and being an idol" there’s a tone of disgust and despite not understanding, Seokjin knows not to question. "Idols and idol rappers," the other leaves it at that before draining his drink.

Seokjin follows in slow sips.

Life is a series of balancing acts, Seokjin muses, just like between school and observing his friend’s dreams come to fruition.

ACT 3

And of all those making up Daenamhyup, Seokjin finds a friend in Hyosang. He thinks it is due to the proximity in age that he finds comfort in. It’s definitely not the smile, he thinks as he indulges the other in yet another selfie, leaning in and curling his lips in the way he knows flatters him best.

There’s a light whistle after inspection of the picture and the compliment of “you look handsome.” Seokjin’s smile might have grown by a bit.

His phone vibrates to his left, saving him from dozing off. Papers are strewn before him thirty percent of a project compiled and the rest are rough sketches of his imagination. He blinks groggily before snatching up his phone, waking up almost immediately at the screen name.

I’m bored, it states, what are you up to?

And the project is abandoned in exchange for late night companionship.

[ hyosang ; sent ] project ㅠㅠ

[ hyosang ; sent ] save me

[ received at 11:32 ] hm

[ received at 11:32 ] how about I reward you with a date ㅋㅋ

[ hyosang ; sent ] gross

But he’s smiling.

[ hyosang ; sent ] maybe if you call it something else I’ll reconsider

[ received at 11:35 ] free Friday afternoon?

[ hyosang ; sent ] better treat me to something good.

[ received at 11:37 ] whatever you want, princess ㅋㅋ

Seokjin throws in an eye roll and ignores Hyosang for the rest of the night to make a point.

[ hyosang ; sent ] I GOT IT!! I GOT THE ROLE!

It doesn’t take long before Hyosang replies with a congratulations accompanied by a quick shot of his face.

It takes a while before he realizes he probably should have told Yoongi first.

It is easy to lose track of time between various projects assigned by school and side assignments he takes on to build his resume. Small roles, nothing worth noting but Seokjin gives his all nonetheless.

He realizes on one nameless Monday that he hasn’t heard from Hyosang in a while. He probably shouldn’t worry because both of them are busy chasing after dreams after all.

It’s been a while since he last saw his rapper friend yet it’s almost natural the way they converse as if no time had lapsed at all.

"Where’s Hyosang?" Seokjin asks after a while. Silence settles like an itchy blanket and stays that way until Namjoon breaks it.

"He sold out," and Seokjin nearly flinches for the tone. Perhaps he looked too lost or too confused (Yoongi had always teased him for the "dumb" look of a half opened mouth and wide eyes) because the rapper quickly follows with: "he decided to take the offer. He’s now a trainee for some entertainment company."

That night he goes home and the first thing he does is text Hyosang with “hey.”

Reality is forever a softer break. At some point distance grows to the point it becomes hard to breach. Contact falls and one forgets until nostalgia hits that at some point it was frequent and perhaps even daily.

Seokjin is busy with growing roles and little recognition. Hyosang juggles the inflexibility of idol training and music production. No one is to be blamed. Negligence happens.

The next time he sees Hyosang, it doesn’t quite count as seeing him at all. Inkigayo is playing in the background and make up artists are blocking his view with brushes and powder. It must be luck when he catches a glimpse of a familiar face on screen and practically shoos the noonas away.

Blown up on television is Hyosang’s face, Hyosang’s rap, and Hyosang’s eyes bolded in eye liner. (So is Seokjin’s but that’s besides the point.)

He did it. Seokjin realizes it’s not about the cost but rather the achievement. This time, Seokjin congratulates his friend and wouldn’t mind if there’s never a reply. After all, they are humans preoccupied with their lives.

ACT 4

"I’ve never seen you before," Seokjin observes with a polite smile and has to refrain from laughing when the boy nearly jumps out of his own skin. He’s not small but didn’t fall too high on the height spectrum either. Well built and young.

"I’m new," the other seems flustered as he straightens himself and bows quickly, drawing a laugh from Seokjin’s lips.

"There’s no need to be nervous," raising his hands because despite earning rewards to his name and being considered as a capable new actor, Seokjin still feels like his eighteen year old self in some respects. He’s still unworthy of the attention and the love, prays that fame doesn’t get to his head one day. "What’s your name?" attempting to compose himself in a way that will help the boy open up.

"Park Jimin," he says with yet another respectful nod.

There’s something nice about having a familiar face to speak to during breaks and especially during lunch when Seokjin is shovelling grass (salad but he feels like a cow either way) into his mouth. It’s comforting to have someone distract him from the hustle and bustle around him.

Seokjin learns that Jimin takes a while to get to know but after that he’s willing to share. And share he does about his dreams, about his aspirations, about how he wishes to perform on stage and decided to take on a janitorial job to see the inner workings.

Although Seokjin has yet to see the boy’s talents, he wonders how much he can actually achieve.

"I don’t understand," he confesses to Yoongi over a glass or two of beer, "are dreams really that worth chasing? It seems so futile. Exchanging the prime of your life to run after mere illusions."

He doesn’t stop. Neither does he notice that his friend’s expression has darkened.

"I mean what’s the point? Why try so hard?" muses mostly to himself as he takes yet another drink.

"Of course you wouldn’t understand," Yoongi snaps and that’s when it dawns on Seokjin, "you had yours served on a silver platter."

He probably should have reflected upon the bitter tone and his own words but instead flares at the last sentence because “I worked hard for my roles.”

"And I worked hard for my dreams.”

But he has yet to make it big.

"Don’t act so high and mighty just because people can put a name to your face."

Beer sloshes in the glass and Seokjin hisses: “you’re getting old Yoongi, maybe it’s time for you to stop the futility.”

"Fuck off. It is none of your business."

Probably isn’t but as the first spectator and a friend, it kind of is. There’s a slam to the table and Seokjin watches the man with the beanie walk briskly away from him.

His phone goes silent spare for the texts and calls from his manager.

One day, Jimin disappears as well.

"Are you happy?" the interviewer’s lips are pink and curled into a perfect smile, legs crossed with expertise and hands folded in a professional manner.

( “Are you happy?” Yoongi asks a few weeks after his second award.

Seokjin looks around his newly acquired flat and thinks about how his parents are doing better than before. “I have everything I want. Why wouldn’t I be?” He adds with a smile.

"That’s not what I’m asking," there’s a vague expression of annoyance before the rapper presses on, "Are you happy?"

"Yes. Of course I am." He has to be. Isn’t this what happiness means? Obtaining all you have wanted. )

"Yes. Of course I am," and Seokjin flashes a smile at the camera, one that seems like he’s practiced for a million times (he has, in his bathroom mirror, to deliver this one line with conviction).

ACT 5

The Han River opens up under his feet and spills into the sea of city lights. The night view can be seen from almost every angle, even from the kitchen if Seokjin wishes to. Despite having an apartment under his own name, a car in his garage, and enough money to ensure his parents' retirement plans — there is still something missing.

Wine sloshes in his glass and he wonders why the bedroom is so far from everything else.

Seokjin still enjoys the simple amenities in life. Taking public transportation home and walking in the rain is one of them. Nostalgia surfaces and he's reminded of high school, ear bud wedged into one ear, and Yoongi's perpetual scowl.

He's lost in thought, swallowed up by a congested city where cars drive by, consumed by personal goals. That's how he finds a boy curled up, just barely out of the reach from the relentless rain, hair still damp and forming beads from forgetting (Seokjin is assuming) to bring an umbrella from home.

The good samaritan in him approaches with a gentle "hey" with intention in surrendering his own device because his apartment is only 5 minutes away.

There's no response. Concerned, he reaches out and gives the boy a light shake, in which the stranger promptly falls to the side. So Seokjin does as one should do: he brings the boy home.

"You did what?"

Seokjin winces from the raised volume in the other end of the line.

"I brought a boy home. He had a high fever," Seokjin defends. He couldn't have allowed someone to die.

"Why didn't you think to send him to a hospital." Seokjin remains quiet as he imagines his manager running an exasperated hand through his hair. "You could have just invited paparazzi into your own home for all you know." Seokjin takes a glance at the boy who flashes him a smile — all teeth and in a semblance of a rectangle. "You're famous Seokjin, you ought to be more careful and—"

"His name is Kim Taehyung," Seokjin interrupts, "and he's staying."

It's weird how quickly Seokjin assimilates to this life where there is someone to return to at the end of every day. A slow progression where Taehyung is incorporated into his schedule easily. Bowls, forks, spoons, and chopsticks increase from one to two. Same with the slippers at the doorway and the toothbrush in the bathroom.

He doesn't ask where Taehyung is from or where he is going but merely supplies "you can stay as long as you wish" and the boy takes up the offer. He doesn't ask questions. That is not what this is about.

Seokjin comes home one day to see the boy hugging his knees to his chest, eyes glued to the television. He follows the trajectory of the glance and finds himself staring at one of his favorite animes.

"One Piece?" he exhales, heart clenching upon itself in glee as the boy attempts to jump out his own skin, dipping his head to acknowledge his elder. "Scoot over," Seokjin requests as he seats himself next to Taehyung, fists clenching in excitement. At intervals (where he would usually shout at the screen if he was alone over a character's stupidity or a well executed action scene) he finds himself gripping the boy's hand for support, finding joy in shared passion and common interests.

Kim Taehyung presents himself in bits and pieces and Seokjin scrambles to put them together. He learns about sleep talking habits in the middle of the night when Taehyung has taken up residence in his bed along with Jjangu, after insisting that Seokjin's bed is big enough for four and that the guest room bed is lumpy and that Seokjin should know how to treat his guests better. He concedes, but not before adding that Taehyung isn't quite a guest in this house, the red tips of ears merely the younger accepting shame. He learns about the love of animals and the surprising reciprocation when Jjangu abandons his master for the boy and Seokjin calls him a traitor. Taehyung smiles his usual smile — the one Seokjin is growing fond of — as he scratches behind the dog's ear and Jjangu wags his tail at an intense speed.

Seokjin finds out that he's just a child at heart. He prefers his sausages to be cut up in the shape of octopuses, leaves his laundry around, runs away when being asked to do chores, and prefers to curl up with a game console and Jjangu than venture out into the world. Not that Seokjin is any better because more often than not, on the rare days when he has nothing scheduled, he finds himself curled up next to the boy playing Super Smash Brothers or watching anime.

He's rewatching one of his favorites again, Taehyung's hands trapped in his own for emotional support, when he feels the younger's gaze upon him. It becomes a mutual and silent study, television forgotten for those few moments, and Seokjin notices a beauty mark on the other's nose. He wonders how he's never noticed before.

It comes as a surprise, but not an unwelcomed one, when he feels lips pressed against his own. Earnest and shy the way the other's eyes are shut. Seokjin releases the hands he has captured and uses one of his to press against Taehyung's cheek, thumb tracing circles as he accepts what he's been given.

And this, like everything else about Taehyung, becomes routine.

Movie rentals become excuses to come home early and into bed where Taehyung has taken up permanent residence. And although Seokjin never rejects, even after a particularly exhausting day, sometimes he wishes they would finish the movie, let it not be wasted and forgotten as background music to drown out other noises. Sometimes he wonders if this is Kim Taehyung's way of repaying him.

(What if the answer is yes? What if the answer is no?)

On one Saturday evening, when Seokjin is catching a rerun of a Hayao Miyazaki film, Taehyung sprawls himself along the length of the couch with his head resting on Seokjin's lap. His fingers dance to trap the elder's hand in his own. And when he does, there's a mindless playfulness to how he handles Seokjin's fingers, a simple massage before lips wrap around a digit and—

Seokjin wrenches his finger from the other's mouth, a sharp "no" exhaled. The boy's expression quickly becomes unreadable and Seokjin modifies by requesting: "Can't we just lay here? Do nothing and just lay here?" Revert to a time when things were simpler or find a balance between simplicity and this new found edge. He doesn't explain the fear of crossing borders or that jumping off the edge might not just result in a few fractured bones.

Kim Taehyung starts to drop by less frequently. He usually has his own agenda and despite the months of a shared living space, Seokjin still doesn't know about the other's life beyond these walls. It is not uncommon for him to leave but Seokjin doesn't realize things have gone amiss until one day he returns home to an empty flat and an unfed dog.

The boy is no where to be found.

He still comes back, once in a while. Joins Seokjin to watch a few episodes, thank him for the meal, and take Jjangu out for walks but his presence starts to fade away, bit by bit.

One day, he doesn't come back at all.

His manager keeps telling him to stop staring at the phone as if he'll call and say that he was on a two week trip and that he'll be home soon and that everything will be fine. His manager tells him to focus on the script and the job, that a lost dog will come home eventually.

Weeks drag out to months and Seokjin loses hope completely.

Jjangu still stares longingly at the door, seating himself at the entrance as if any moment keys will jangle and the door will be unlocked.

No one ever comes.

"He's not coming back, you ugly dog," Seokjin declares one day, out of frustration, tired of seeing how his dog can't give up. Reality is forever a softer break. At least he should have left a note.

He scoops up his dog into his own arms and whispers into Jjangu's fur, no longer certain as to whether he's convincing his dog or himself: "he's not coming back."

Kim Seokjin begins to stay away from his apartment, keep himself preoccupied with work before he returns to reminders and the ever perpetuating sense of loneliness. This place is really too big.

And so he thanks the gods when he receives a call from his manager detailing, "I have three projects for you. One is a romantic comedy, the other is a melodramatic drama, and the third is—"

"I'll take all three," Seokjin cuts him off, tone flat and firm.

"You'll die," his manager argues, "you can't possibly take three projects at one time... Kim Seok—"

"I said I'll take all three." Seokjin reiterates and then hangs up on his manager.

ACT 6

Seokjin revels in the way his time is all consumed by his projects and how he drowns in the amount of work still begging to be done because 24 hours is not enough. It turns him numb, lessens the pain. He loses the concept of an balancing act and just falls without a net to catch him, fails to see the worried expression of his family and friends and his manager too. Jjangu is sent back home to his parents and Seokjin believes that this is only natural. He has failed in more ways than one.

If someone was to ask him if he was happy now, he would answer no. Funny how it takes one to lose happiness to know what it is.

As it turns out, the romantic comedy is a story of aspiring dancers, an area that could count as Seokjin's bane, yet he still tries to learn with the extra classes provided by the choreographer.

"I'm surprised you're still here," his choreographer states as he sees Seokjin alone in the practice room, still trying to translate motions into muscle memory and hoping they would stay. He thinks Seokjin is earnest and the actors feels a mix of guilt and shame for leading someone to believe that. It's true, to some extent, that he enjoys learning despite the rigorous course work. But at the same time it is therapeutic in the way it occupies the mind, leaves no space for lingering thoughts. Just here and now. Shallow breaths and the racing pace of his heart, a mirror reflecting all that he is and nothing more. He's just Kim Seokjin at this very moment.

The choreographer's voice filters back into Seokjin's mind, snapping him out of his musings. "Most renown actors have stunt doubles for things like this," he adds with his smile. Seokjin wonders if Hoseok knows his smile is just two notches too bright sometimes.

"I'm pretty sure I still need a stunt double." Seokjin lets a laugh slip past his lips as he tries to repeat the motion, all awkward angles and squeaking ligaments. "See?" he adds after his demonstration.

"A genius is 1% talent and 99% hard work," Hoseok amends with a flair and an encouraging grin. Try as he might, the actor fails to suppress a laugh.

"Sometimes," Seokjin adds with a somber smile of his own, after the chuckles have died down, "that one percent accounts for everything. I'm hopeless." He throws in a shrug for good measure. His choreographer merely clasps him on the back and redirects his attention to the mirror.

"Let's run through it again."

Seokjin glances at the clock, noticing how late the hour is getting before glancing back at Hoseok, inquiring if he's sure about this. It's been a long day and he probably needs to rest. Hoseok reassures him with a smile that says it's okay.

"Ready?"

Seokjin nods in return.

Seokjin stays behind longer than he should after each and every practice; Hoseok does the same. Music plays in the backdrop in a loop as the actor refreshes his memory from yesterday's session and adds new ones to his repertoire. It is far from perfect but his choreographer is as patient as he is kind with a constant supply of encouragement.

He's sprawled on the floor, chest heaving as his shirt clings to his chest from physical exertion, back against the wall as he tries to catch his breath. Seokjin jumps when a cold water bottle is pressed against his cheek. He doesn't have to look up to know who it is but does anyways and mirrors the smile he's graced with. Hoseok slides down to join him, reaching for the chilled water he had gifted Seokjin a few minutes ago (the one the actor had finished nearly half of the contents already). He takes a few sips and Seokjin watches where sweat form beads upon his forehead and the Adam's apple bobs with each gulp, wondering if this is an act of charity or the choreographer just being really passionate about what he does. It might be both and Seokjin doesn't know what to make of it.

A scowl forms across his face when the track loops back to the beginning. "How do people manage to do this again and again? Don't they get sick and tired of it?" he complains before he registers that his filter is failing due to exhaustion.

When he looks over, he's surprised at how impassive Hoseok looks, unused to a Jung Hoseok who is not smiling. With a button the player powers off as the choreographer leans back and closes his eyes, silence quickly filling in the gaps as Seokjin wonders if he's offended the other. "Ten years off stage for three minutes on stage. It does get tiring after a while, sometimes you can even go through the choreography in your sleep," he allows a chuckle to escape from his lips, "but it is worth it. The few minutes where all eyes are trained on you and..." he trails off, caught in his own reverie.

Seokjin remembers the rare occasions when he arrives first to the studio due to a lack of prior schedules and how Hoseok is there before anyone else. He remembers the graceful shift of weight from one side to the next, the elegant twists of limbs and the way he sinks down to the floor, the power exerted in each jerk and thrust. He'll never come to understand the exhilarating feeling of being under the spotlight and scrutiny of thousands but he thinks of a well delivered line and a scene only filmed with one take, wonders if they are the same, and tries to understand. Practice does pay off, that's for sure. Seokjin is slightly better than where he was weeks ago but the process is painful and slow and he can only admire Hoseok for persevering.

Five more minutes and hearts have settled back into rib cages when Hoseok gets on his feet and offers a helping hand. "Again?"

Seokjin takes the offering with a nod.

He learns more and more about Hoseok: his passion for dance, the road he took to get here, and the people who had helped him along the way. Seokjin surprises himself by divulging information about his past — about Jeongguk's encouragement, about how his high school friend has always dreamed of making it big and perhaps that had influenced him more than he acknowledges, about the people he met with similar dreams.

Kim Seokjin doesn't remember a time when opening up the heart was so easy, but Hoseok is Hoseok and he supposes that is all that matters.

So it is natural when he asks Hoseok to come over. After all, his place is closer to the studio and the hard wooden floors aren't ideal even for a nap. The choreographer takes up the offer politely, thanking Seokjin profusely.

Yet he ends up staring at Seokjin for the majority of the bus ride home as the actor stares at the scenery flashing by, absorbing the commodities of life he's missed and left behind for chauffeured cars and privacy.

"I never thought," the other mustering enough courage to break the silence, "you would ride public transportation." You're famous, you're rich. Why would you ride a bus instead? he seems to question and Seokjin can only chuckle.

"You don't know a lot about me," he teases, only able to become just a regular citizen in this country at ungodly hours at night where fans are few and far in between, occupied by their own lives. "I never thought I would miss it." And he falls back to the same pipe dream till the bus halts at his stop and he's forced back to reality once more.

The actor forgets the affect his apartment can have on people who have never seen it. Hoseok kind of gapes and looks around while the actor panics at how there are two pairs of slippers out (like he's never left) and wonders what the other will think of it. Apparently nothing as Hoseok slips them on but not before bowing at the doorway and announcing, "Sorry to intrude."

It's endearing and Seokjin finds himself smiling.

Little by little, Hoseok becomes permanent in Seokjin's life. Little by little, his things get left behind. Little by little, he moves in. Into Seokjin's space and maybe into his heart as well.

It was the first time he visited when Hoseok emerges from bathroom curious about: "do you have a morning toothbrush and a night toothbrush?" seemingly impressed that someone would have two separate toothbrushes based on time of day. Seokjin wonders if the other is too tired to grasp the common implication of two toothbrushes.

"No." He tries not to think about the original owner or the fact that he has failed to toss it out despite the elapsed time. (Pathetic the way he still clings to hope.)

"Oh." The other goes quiet as if trying to grasp at something to replace the awkward silence.

But Seokjin has finally made up his mind. "Throw it away for me please. I don't need it anymore." Hoseok just offers one of his smiles and does as he's told.

And he still comes over, no longer bound to the 3AM practices but also visits during regular hours. Arms full of grocery bags that swing from the heavy contents within. It was refreshing in a way, to be able to select his food after the months of hurrying from site to site to finish his projects. Even more so with a companion in tow.

It is side by side with elbows bumping into each other in the kitchen, despite how large it is, that has Seokjin recalling his younger years and the lengths he went to in order to please his girlfriends. How they would stand and watch, point out tips, and be all smug about my boyfriend is cooking for me. Love leads one to do great and silly things, not that he minded. But he had always hoped for company. He could do the dishes but the act of cooperative creation and the satisfaction that stems from the knowledge that this is the fruit of labor is something that warms Seokjin's heart.

It must be the onion getting to his eyes. Hoseok seems to notice and takes over without a single word uttered. They swap and Seokjin ends up guarding the meat.

Maybe it's just him but the food somehow tastes better than what Seokjin makes on his own. The clean up process is faster and even smoother because Hoseok insists on helping, forming an assembly line where he washes and Seokjin dries. And the actor realizes that fun can be found in simple menial tasks as well.

(What if fun isn't the proper term here? What if the term should be replaced by happiness?)

Hoseok once said, while curled up beside Seokjin and arms draped lethargically around Seokjin's torso, that he likes petite places because they exude warmth. That Seokjin's apartment is too big and empty and cold (he can't help but agree), but at least Seokjin is here, the other amends.

Despite Hoseok personal preferences, he sticks around and adds his own flair to the place, fill it with warmth. The traces of Taehyung begin to vanish and Seokjin is no longer overwhelmed by reminders at every turn of the corner, instead he's gifted with new ones.

"You play the piano?" Hoseok asks one day and Seokjin is reminded of the Steinway in his apartment, more as a display of wealth than anything else.

( "You play the piano?" the boy seems to dance with joy as he looks at Seokjin. The man flushes under all the unwarranted attention and the sudden shame because he really doesn't want to disappoint the boy.

"Not really," he allows, "it was a long time ago. I got frustrated and hated practicing." Seokjin demonstrates as he flexes and shows as his double jointed fingers in all their glory. He remembers his teacher enforcing his practices and the grudge that grew between him and the innocent instrument. After a while, his parents gave up on him and invested in his elder brother.

"Do you remember anything?"

Just one. The one engraved into muscle memory from the amount of times he had to practice and memorize it for a single concert.

"Just one."

"Would you please demonstrate?" Seokjin rarely hears Taehyung so polite and the younger is already seated at the bench. Seokjin forces an exasperated sigh that is two parts fond before seating himself besides the other.

It is Für Elise, for Kim Taehyung, and he tries to play from memory. Messes up along the way and that extorts giggles from the younger's lips leading Seokjin to laugh as well. Fingers intertwine as they try to play out the chords in unison. Seokjin indulgent as he allows Taehyung what he wishes. )

"Not really," Seokjin allows, memories choking and still too raw, "it was a long time ago. I got frustrated and hated practicing."

"That doesn't sound like you," Hoseok adds with a smile as he seats himself. "Let's change that," he adds as he invites Seokjin to join him with a pat to the empty side of the bench.

And because Seokjin trusts Hoseok and has faith that it can be changed that he joins him.

A familiar melody arises and twists and changes when Hoseok encourages "do whatever you want" as he tries to harmonize. It becomes a game of sorts and at some point Seokjin realizes that he's enjoying it a lot. When the song comes to an end with the same familiar two note pattern, the elder rests his head on the other's shoulder, wondering at how he manages to understand Seokjin so well.

They are in the middle of a movie, Seokjin slouched against Hoseok as he juggles a bowl of popcorn in his lap when the other turns to him and asks, "can I kiss you?"

Seokjin freezes for a moment, not used to people asking for permission but finds his lips curling into a grin. "Yes," he breathes, "of course." What took you so long? he implies.

Hoseok is gentle and attentive the way he cups Seokjin's cheek, the way he tilts Seokjin's head, and the way he presses his lips to Seokjin's. The curl of the lips doesn't fade anytime soon.

A lazy Sunday morning, nearly unidentifiable from the rest as he untangles himself from Hoseok's mess of limbs and presses a fond kiss to the forehead. Brunch hour arrives and it isn't going to make itself so Seokjin sets out to do it. The romantic comedy had long be aired and Hoseok is still trying to recover from his newest project; Seokjin allows the other to catch up on sleep.

The bacon is sizzling when he's wrapped in a familiar embrace, chin digging into his shoulder as a way of saying good morning. He doesn't even have to turn around to add, "put some clothes on." It is too early for the choreographer to be traipsing around in his boxers.

When the other finally emerges, the radio had just announced Daenamhyup's new single in a voice too chirpy for 11 o'clock. Seokjin thinks he heard wrong. But there it is, a voice so familiar—

"Yoongi," Seokjin exhales.

"Who?" Hoseok questions out of curiosity.

"Suga," he attempts to elaborate, "one of the rappers. Made it big like he promised he would."

"I'm glad."

Seokjin is too.

At some point, Seokjin realizes that happiness isn't measured by the amount of acquired goods. He used to think that money and an apartment would be able to bring him what he needs. He didn't understand the concept of aspire, seek, attain especially that of dreams. He didn't understand a lot of things.

Happiness is intangible. For some, it involves fame and recognition. For some, it is the fulfilment of a long sought after dream. But whatever it is to each individual, it is an ever evolving definition, not a stagnant state. Happiness is a journey rather than a destination.

Young Seokjin thought happiness came in the form of money because he could purchase all that he wanted and surely that would make him satisfied, no? And as he grew, and as he lost and gained friends he realized their importance and the contribution they made towards his state of contentment. Just a bit older than that, he believed it was a place to call his own — a place without disturbance, a place that was tranquil.

Kim Seokjin now knows it is a mixture of the three. A place he shares and finds solace in Jung Hoseok is where happiness lies.

deleted scene

they are part of the bustling streets of hongdae when seokjin spies him — or at least seokjin believes it to be him. the gait is painfully familiar, the way he collects himself and turns his head to absorb the surroundings, even the curl at the ends of hair stick out like the day seokjin stumbled across him. except his hair is a brilliant shade of violet and the guitar case strapped to his back is unfamiliar. then again, one would be a fool to expect him to stay the same. memories can be frozen in time but not human beings.

seokjin takes everything in, in the attempts to decipher the stranger's identity. black leather gloves adorning swinging hands, jeans and a jean vest layering the long sleeved shirt underneath, and a red checkered jacket tied around the waist fluttering in the wind. it gives off an impression of elusiveness, then again all of him does.

there are three syllables lodged in the base of his throat when he feels hoseok's fingers thread their way through his, startling seokjin. he sees minute concern laced between eyebrows and seokjin flashes him a smile — one that comes from the depths of his heart. by the time he turns around, the stranger has already merged with the crowd.

he's not wistful. surprisingly, he finds it easy not to dwell on, not when hoseok's palms are warm and the gentle squeeze has the brief glance morphed into a forgotten memory.