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Hoseok hastily shook his hands free of flour, ran his fingers under some water, then wiped them on the tea towel hanging from a drawer handle before hurrying to the door. He opened it to find a young man standing there in a shiny black anorak and hoop earrings whose small eyes squinted into crescents at the sight of him.
“Good morning, Mr Min!” he chirped, the fluffy bobble perched atop his knit hat trembling with the same cheeriness. “Please sign here for your package.”
“Mr…?”
The young man held out a yellow envelope. “Mr Min Yoongi, Unit 309?”
Hoseok leaned out of the doorway, knowing exactly what had caused this mix-up. There were three small numbers affixed to the right of his door, thin flat metal things that had been screwed into the plaster. The final number had lost one of these screws and gravity had done the rest – Hoseok wordlessly pushed the 9 back up into a 6.
“Oh.” The courier’s eyes widened until Hoseok could see the brown of his irises. Even the bobble seemed dispiritedly drooped over as he made a formal bow. “I’m so sorry for interrupting you.”
“Don’t worry about it, it was an honest mistake.” Hoseok hesitated. “Hey, do you want to come in?”
“Um. I’m kind of on the clock right now.”
His cheeks felt like they were on fire, but Hoseok persevered. He was dying for some human interaction, no matter how superficial. “I mean – I’m making cookies right now, do you want some?”
The young man brightened at once. “Oh! Yeah, sure. Thank you!”
So for another four minutes, Hoseok got to feel like a genuine human being again as he made small talk with Jimin the delivery guy about his acorn-patterned apron and the framed pictures of his terribly missed dog on the wall. Then he lingered in the doorway to watch Jimin (who had humbly and enthusiastically accepted a ziplock baggie of snickerdoodles) go and ring the bell at 309. Hoseok took a sharp little breath as the door opened and a familiar figure shuffled into view, rumpled in his hoodie and sweats. While Jimin launched into another peppy greeting, Yoongi glanced over at Hoseok, who gave a quick, nervous wave before fleeing back inside.
Hoseok had moved to the city in mid-November, which was a very unusual time for starting afresh since most people were easing into end of year mode. His new colleagues were either swamped in last minute projects or already mentally checked out and ready to holiday. This was both a boon and a burden as such plans were an easy topic for break time chit chat, but Hoseok soon realised the tentative acquaintanceships he had created would dry up once he was out of sight and mind. Might as well wait until January to start over from square one.
He knew he shouldn’t feel so dejected. This was a city, teeming with people who had either come or been raised in the bustle of it all and open for connections. He had plenty of opportunities, with his own apartment building being one of them. It was older than most buildings in the area, a relatively cheap walk-up in which every unit was a copycat of one another, ten of them in a row and stacked atop each other to make a total of 40. Each entrance opened onto a communal balcony. Not only was this rather economical and compact, Hoseok had also picked this location for the view. Every morning at 7 AM, he stepped onto the balcony and witnessed an orange sun rise over the rooftops and roads that snaked down the hill, their fishbone antennae set aglow whilst distant chrome skyscrapers glittered, before heading down the stairs for another long day of work.
Although he hadn’t spoken very much to them yet, Hoseok already knew most of his neighbours, or at least those on his floor. He was in the centre at unit 306. He knew that there was a friendly retiree in 305 and a flight attendant in 307 who did not return for days at a time. He also knew that the individual who lived in unit 309 was a quiet young man with fair skin, dark eyes, a cute round nose, and long hair that he sometimes kept away from his face in a beanie – a black one, always black. That seemed to be his uniform, a gradient between black and white with a marked preference for the darker shades.
They had met in the most embarrassing way. Only two days since moving in, Hoseok had been walking along the balcony with his tote bag of groceries when he noticed the unique doormat. Upon a fuzzy black background, a weary-looking white cat held up two middle fingers (despite having paws) that pointed towards an elegant italicised message: go away. Hoseok had been snickering to himself and taking pictures on his phone when the door swung inward to reveal the owner of said mat staring at him. He then let Hoseok stammer through an awkward apology and explanation before introducing himself as Min Yoongi.
Afterwards, Yoongi always greeted Hoseok by name, pinning him to the spot with his gravelly voice and steady gaze – and Hoseok would squeak out some silly reply before escaping into his apartment before he could faint from overwhelming attraction. Because good grief, he found Min Yoongi so very attractive.
As the days wound into December, Hoseok tried his best to acclimatise to life in this city. He wheedled away the minutes on his tiresome commute by searching sights, sounds, and tastes to sample, and crept down the stairwell prepared with good walking shoes and a topped up transit card on the weekends. He rested in parks, wandered through galleries, and waited in line at the trendiest eateries to try whatever delicious new thing people were hyping up on social media at the moment, obviously not before taking a carefully angled picture first. While the dopamine from numbers adding up beside a little digitally rendered heart was nice, it would be even nicer to have someone to be here with him. Next year, Hoseok promised himself. It was too late now, so next year.
One Sunday afternoon, he was returning from a solo brunch and wintry bike ride along the riverside. He mildly cursed himself for picking an activity that would turn his legs to jelly when he lived in a walk-up on the third floor…! Just as Hoseok rounded the corner after the first flight, he nearly collided with none other than Min Yoongi.
“It’s fine,” he said to Hoseok’s panicked apologies. “You okay?”
“Yes!” Hoseok squeaked. “And you? Are you feeling ill?”
Yoongi’s brows contracted ever so slightly until he pulled down the black face mask to his chin. Hoseok was captivated by the faint blush that dusted his cheeks, marvelling internally at the wonders of cold air against such delicate skin. “Oh, I’m fine. Masks are just really useful for keeping my face warm in winter.”
“Is it also so nobody on the crowded train tries to get near you because they think you’re sick?”
“Exactly. You get it.”
When the laughter had faded, there was nothing to do but continue trudging onward and upward. Yoongi was a bit on the slow side, and grunted softly whenever he had to pull himself up onto the final step for each flight, a rather goofy sound that made Hoseok bite the inside of his lip to keep from giggling. When they both dragged themselves across the threshold of the third floor, they saw at once that they were not alone. Another young man was standing before Hoseok’s door, a fist raised to thump the doorbell.
“Uh… hey?” Hoseok hurried forward. “What’s this all about?”
The delivery guy turned to look at him with slowly blinking eyes that were slightly obscured by his curly hair. “Oh, good afternoon sir. Here is your new tableware set,” he said in a husky voice before gesturing behind himself.
Five boxes of varying sizes were stacked neatly by Hoseok’s door. Hoseok had not a single notion what to do with them. He simply gaped until Yoongi peered down at the address on the packing slip in the delivery guy’s mittened hands. “That’s for me,” he said.
The delivery guy blinked. “But it says here: Unit 309.”
“I am 309.” Yoongi pointed. “Over there.”
“But…?”
Hoseok sighed and spun the 6 again to show them the issue. The delivery guy apologised and shuffled, in his strangely bare-toed slides (it was 4 degrees out??) to pick up the boxes. Yoongi had already hefted up the largest two and was toddling over to his unwelcome mat. Hoseok heard the young man ask an earnest question about tea parties because apparently, a three-tiered tray was one of the items included on the packing list but couldn’t hear Yoongi’s answer before he closed his own door, then leaned against it.
He shouldn’t have come home so early. Maybe he should have taken a walk by the river, or through some park, or even just down a street to watch steam rise off the food vendor’s stalls and listen to the teeming chatter of friends, families, and significant others cherishing their weekends with one another – but perhaps that would have exacerbated his loneliness further. Perhaps it was in fact better to face an afternoon and evening of empty quiet solitude and contemplation, to spend time with himself – except that Hoseok had been doing plenty of that already, and felt it would be nice if it wasn’t his only option.
The shrill ring of the doorbell jolted him out of his thoughts. Slightly dizzy from the loudness, Hoseok opened the door and Yoongi stood there on the other side. He hadn’t even changed out of his coat and beanie. Well, neither had Hoseok, woollen scarf still tucked around his neck as they eyed each other in surprise.
“Hey, Hoseok.”
“Hi,” Hoseok breathed.
“So.” Yoongi’s eyes darted down, as if he was to address Hoseok’s knees instead. “Your door number. This wasn’t the first time, was it?”
It wasn’t. Hoseok had in fact come home to a few bills and reports tucked into his mail slot that had not been intended for him, but it hadn’t been much exertion on his part to quickly slide it into Yoongi’s on the way to work the following morning. Nobody had noticed a thing even though Hoseok had feared his hammering heart might have woken up the entire apartment building, but now there was no way to deny it.
“I…” Yoongi held up a small blue toolbox. “…can fix it for you, if that’s okay.”
Hoseok watched in fascination as Yoongi flicked open the lid to reveal shelves nestled into one another with individual compartments for the smaller doodads on top and the tools themselves laid neatly side-by-side in the recess below. He might have teared up a bit at the sheer beauty and organisation of it all. He barely felt the freezing air as they analysed the tiny hole in the plaster together, comparing screw sizes until the right one was found. Hoseok held up the number with one hand as Yoongi drove the screw in, and both of them took a moment to look back on their five-minute teamwork project with pride and pleasure.
“Thank you,” Hoseok said as Yoongi closed the toolbox.
“Don’t mention it.”
“D-” He nearly swallowed the words from embarrassment, but from somewhere within he scrounged up the courage. “Do you want to have some coffee? Or tea? Or chocolate, whatever. As a thank you.”
Yoongi had straightened up with the toolbox and now regarded Hoseok curiously. “You just said thank you, though.”
That was true. Well then, at least Hoseok could close the door both figuratively and literally on this hopeless little crush, but Yoongi continued: “I always like coffee. That’s kind of you.” Then he stepped past Hoseok into unit 306.
It was something like a miracle to have Min Yoongi seated at his kitchen table, holding a bright yellow sunflower mug against his black sweater with both hands while gazing around with frank curiosity at Hoseok’s unique choices in home decor. He was charmed by the Snoopy doghouse cookie jar (the roof was the lid), expressed great sympathy for his drooping peace lily (Hoseok had been told it was an easy plant to care for which he considered a total lie) and upon seeing the pictures of Mickey, became unexpectedly animated, pulling out his phone to show Hoseok two folders worth of pictures and videos of a brown poodle named Holly. Hoseok refrained from proposing that they elope to Hawaii together.
“You’ve really made this place your own,” Yoongi said.
“Really?”
“It’s all bright and lively.” Yoongi’s eyes flicked up from the tabletop to Hoseok’s face. “Like you.”
Hoseok didn’t have the mental space to parse these seven simple words right now. “So, what kind of dishes did you get? Was it from a big sale, or something?”
Yoongi sighed. “I don’t know. My friend Seokjin hated how I didn’t have any matching plates and got them for me. I don’t even know what he picked. Knowing him, it might be in pastel pink or Mario themed.”
Hearing about Yoongi’s friends sparked a tiny flame of jealousy within Hoseok. He had never seen a single other person coming in or out of Unit 309, but to be perfectly fair Hoseok didn’t keep any sort of vigil upon it. Yoongi likely went out to hang out with this Seokjin character and a whole battalion of sophisticated companions regularly. Hoseok would be happy with just one at this point.
“Dibs on Yoshi when you have your tea party, because I expect an invitation,” he said instead.
Yoongi let out a brief chuckle. “Alright, noted.”
They fell into another silence, this time a little cosier and more comfortable with the roasty smell of coffee around them and the lazy, slow circulations of the ceiling fan keeping the air warm but not stuffy. Yoongi was the first to break it. “It’s been, what, three weeks now since you moved here? How have you found it?”
Hoseok dimly dismissed the fact that Yoongi had been counting. He instead rattled off lightly exaggerated praises for their neighbourhood such as the view and relation to the city centre.
“I meant living here in general. You said the first time we met that you were new to the city.”
“Oh. Right. There’s a lot to do. I’ve been doing solo outings.”
Yoongi hummed thoughtfully at this. “Doing things alone is a skill not a lot of people have.” He shrugged ruefully. “Well, more like a skill not a lot of people like having.”
Hoseok could not agree more. “Yeah. I’d love company but it’s not so easy finding it.”
“Ever tried those meet-up groups?”
“Oh… no. I didn’t think of that.”
“I mean, it’s not a guarantee. You still have to put in the effort of getting past the basic politeness to actual friendships.” Yoongi took another sip, then set down the mug to gaze intently at Hoseok. “But usually, you know right away when you connect. I don’t believe much in labels and stereotypes. I like to focus on the atmosphere I feel with somebody – whether they have the same sense as mine.”
A pause settled between them, heavy and significant as they looked at one another. “Like now?” Hoseok said, feeling daring.
Yoongi grinned. “Sure. Like now.”
It wasn’t a very long visit, but Hoseok felt so much lighter and at ease as he walked Yoongi the entire 1.5 metres to the door, watched him traverse the next six metres down the balcony, and they both waved this time before going back inside.
Hoseok buried himself in work right up to the public holidays although the office was rather empty by that point, most of his colleagues having saved up their annual leave (which resulted in even more work on Hoseok’s plate, but such was the gig). It made the days go by in a blur, with the only highlight being a weekend when he took the plunge and followed Yoongi’s advice by attending a meet-up at a small art museum in another district in which he was paired with a wonderfully extraverted and pleasant man named Namjoon. The experience was exponentially improved by Namjoon’s unique interpretation of the exhibits, and along the way they also discovered that not only did they share the same age but similar music tastes. Socials were shared before they had finished the tour, and even a hangout scheduled some time in the new year – because Namjoon had left the city for the holidays a day later, same as Yoongi. He had dropped by Hoseok’s to wish him a happy new year.
“That’s great,” he said after Hoseok told him about the museum. “I knew you’d do well. People are bound to like you.”
“Ah, I don’t know. I think I got lucky.”
Yoongi disagreed, but before he could dole out any other lethal compliments Hoseok changed the subject to the upcoming trip. It would be a three hour train ride for Yoongi to get back to his hometown and though he wasn’t looking forward to being trapped in a metal box surrounded by strangers, he was looking forward to see his family. And to get some undisturbed work done on the way. Hoseok laughed and told him not to overwork himself, and Yoongi grumbled that he sounded too much like Seokjin.
“He’s making me get a drink with him right after I arrive. I won’t even get to see Holly all that much before he drags me out again…” He pouted adorably.
“I’d offer to take your place, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“You mean to play with the dog or go out with my annoying friend?”
“Yes.”
Yoongi’s huffy laugh ended abruptly when he realised what Hoseok had said. “Wait. You’re not going home?”
“Nope.” Hoseok had considered it, but after his parents and sister had separately declared their intentions to spend the holidays overseas – in sunny, snowless places most likely – he had made peace with spending the break here.
“What about Mickey?”
“My sister is taking him with her to a beach resort with her fiancé. Can you believe that?”
Yoongi grumbled a little about the audacity of older siblings before admitting that he would not deny his brother the chance to pamper Holly if he was so inclined, but he could do it himself with all the toys and treats he’d packed anyway, so actually yes, the audacity! He looked pleased with himself when Hoseok let out a giggle, but more importantly: was Hoseok really going to be okay on his own?
He really would. “There’s probably going to be a lot going on, so it’ll be fun!”
“That’s true.” Yoongi fiddled with his suitcase handle. “Well…”
Hoseok smiled. “Don’t feel guilty on my account. Have a good time with Seokjin and the rest of your family. See the snow and pet your dog for me, okay?”
Yoongi’s brow unfurrowed and he smiled, too. “Sure. See you, Hoseok.”
Hoseok was allowed early leave on December 31, which was just as well since he hardly had anything to do since even the extra work piled on by his missing colleagues were either easily sorted or were larger projects that were now stalled by their absence. He even had the leisure to pick up his phone and spam heart emojis over the pictures Yoongi sent him of his reunion with Holly, since they had traded numbers.
YG: whats going on over there?
HS: complete boredom at work
YG: well tonight you should go out
HS: to where?? it’ll be so crowded and any good restaurant is booked up by now
YG: ah you’re right
Hoseok clocked out for the last time in the year at 4:00 PM, then took a walk around the city centre for a few hours. He was surprised at how quickly he navigated the streets – they’d become familiar, even comforting and habitual under the warmth of the lights and crowds around him. He admired the light displays on buildings and trees, laughed at children playing with firecrackers and took a picture of a fluffy orange cat snoozing in a cafe window. He even sent the picture to Yoongi, who didn’t reply – which Hoseok didn’t expect, since he was probably busy with his family miles away.
But when he got home, Unit 306 felt so small and shadowy. Snowflakes began to beat silently against the windows, and Hoseok felt the desperation creep up on him again. He threw his coat into a corner and laid down on the floor, feeling his bones against the hard, unyielding surface. He was utterly alone, so who was going to see him? Who cared?
He was so lost in his gloomy thoughts that the bell going off truly spooked him. Hoseok bolted up and nearly knocked over the peace lily before he managed to open the door.
A young man in a puffy jacket, face completely covered by a mask and his teal motorcycle helmet so that only two enormous eyes were visible, shoved a rather heavy plastic bag at him.
“Hold on, I didn’t–”
“HAPPY NEW YEAR ENJOY YOUR FOOD,” the rider blurted out before rushing down the stairs to, undoubtedly, make sure the rest of his orders were delivered on time.
Hoseok lifted the bag. A cardboard box of what was most certainly fried chicken still felt warm through the plastic, even steaming up the insides. There was a receipt taped to the bag, and Hoseok scanned it for the correct address: Unit 309.
But Yoongi wasn’t even in 309 right now, and had made no mention of letting anyone stay there while he was gone. Hoseok stuffed his feet back into his shoes and hurried down the balcony, the bag swinging from his fist. As he approached the rude cat on the floor, he could see it clearly from the light seeping through the crack beneath the door and even heard the muted strains of… music? Hoseok ignored the bell entirely, and his knuckles smarted as they rapped loudly against the cold surface.
The door opened, flooding Hoseok with blinding light and a rush of warm air. Yoongi gaped at him, the fuzz on his sweater ablaze like a halo. “Hoseok!” His eyes darted down to the bag. “Oh.”
“Welcome back?” Hoseok ventured.
“I…” Yoongi groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Aaack. This ruins the whole effect.”
Hoseok was utterly confused. Yoongi shook his head a little, then squared his shoulders. “You’re going to get cold.” He reached out, seized Hoseok’s sleeve and pulled him inside.
Yoongi’s apartment was much less monochromatic than Hoseok would have guessed, considering his neighbour’s fashion sensibilities. Not that it was a riot of colour – the stain on the wooden furniture was a glossy walnut, and the dark leather sofa featured fluffy cream-coloured cushions that Hoseok longed to run his fingers over. There were all sorts of intriguing, endearing hints to how Yoongi spent his time at home all over the place: sheet music sitting on the stand of an electronic keyboard in one corner, a stack of library books on the side table, and most surprisingly, a bobblehead of Michael Jordan from his Chicago Bulls era perched on the edge of a shelf otherwise backlit with moody purple LEDs.
Hoseok was gently ushered into a dining chair, and the takeout delivery was pried from his fingers. “What do you want to drink?” Yoongi asked.
Hoseok looked at the table before him. It was set with dark blue dishes that featured grey speckles reminiscent of seafoam, tasteful and unpretentious, like the rest of Yoongi. They matched nicely with the matte silver cutlery laid upon either side. Hoseok glanced up to follow Yoongi’s movements as he unpacked the food and finally overcame his bewilderment as he started laughing.
“Is that what you’re going to use it for?”
Yoongi paused, fingers covered by the crinkly plastic gloves that had come with the takeaway order shiny with grease where they hovered over the tiered tray. “I mean, where else am I going to put it?”
Hoseok just found that even funnier. Yoongi watched, first with flabbergasted concern as Hoseok dissolved into giggles, then a sheepish smile at the recognition that yes, this was pretty ridiculous. Especially since Hoseok had no idea Yoongi had planned all of this – which was perfectly understandable because he hadn’t done any planning. He had only just returned an hour ago so there was no time to cook anything, but hopefully some classic beer and chicken would suffice for a New Year’s Eve celebration.
“But why?” Hoseok asked as they dug into the food. There wasn’t anyone else in the apartment, that was for certain. “Did something happen?”
Yoongi blushed and scratched the back of his neck. “No. I mean, yes. You?”
It was just as well that Hoseok had already stuffed his cheeks like a squirrel as Yoongi trained his eyes on his plate to confess that after that morning’s texts, he had been sufficiently bothered by visions of a lonely Hoseok to grab his bag and a train back down to the city. Hoseok’s heart swooped. Oh, wow. The little flutters he’d felt before were basically nothing compared to this. Yoongi had braved the crowds, paid the inflated prices, and most shockingly of all, left Holly to be with him?
But instead of making Hoseok flustered and tongue-tied, these blossoming feelings did the opposite. Something completely melted away in the following hours. The chicken, so artfully arranged upon the tiered tray at the start (which Hoseok made sure to immortalise on his phone, instantly precious due to Yoongi’s impishly proud grin in the background) was gradually depleted at roughly the same rate that the energy rose in the room, happy chatter giving way to loud laughter, and eventually both of them getting up to dance before that, too, fell apart from the sheer giddiness at how ridiculously this had all come together. And also just how long it had taken for their souls to sync – but with not a trace of self-consciousness or awkwardness left perhaps it was meant to be this way.
In the midst of this, Yoongi’s phone, which had been set on the counter, began to vibrate with a call. Yoongi scooped it up and hurried to the sitting area to answer, but with the lack of walls it was hard not to hear every single word.
“Hey!” came a bright voice that carried clearly through the speaker. “So, did you do it? Invite that cute neighbour over? If you finally hook up you owe me like a million bucks, because that’s like, how much all those dishes cost.”
“Jin, you’re drunk.”
“Damn right I am! Oh, and I put condoms in your bag before you left so have a VERY happy new year, Yoongi-yah.”
“Bye,” Yoongi hissed before he ended the call. When he returned to the table, Hoseok pretended total ignorance, nabbing the last piece of pickled radish even if it had warmed to room temperature from sitting out for so long.
Yoongi cleared his throat as if that would have wiped the blush from his cheeks. “So. It’s like, ten to midnight.”
They stumbled out onto the balcony with their glasses of beer that immediately turned to ice in the freezing air, but Hoseok kept a good grip on it in his right hand and Yoongi’s fingers in his left. They made it to the railing, shivering and swearing against the cold but laughing through their chattering teeth. Lights were spilling out of each window, and people in the units above and below yelled out the countdown.
“Five! Four! Three! Two!”
Cheers drowned out the final number, and Hoseok squinted into the night to find the fireworks that were supposed to be going off. Yoongi nudged him and pointed between two distant skyscrapers where the waterfront actually was. Gold and green lights sparkled briefly in the gap, visible mainly from their reflections in the dark glass of the buildings in the way – and Hoseok laughed again at the absurdity of the situation.
He turned to Yoongi and saw the sparkles there too in his eyes, and well. It was traditional, wasn’t it? To bring in the new year with a kiss.
(And that it was enthusiastically reciprocated was also a pretty good sign.)
Not a bad way to begin, here at the end of the year.