Chapter Text
The movie was still playing, but Yoongi hadn't been watching it for the past ten minutes. His eyes were on the screen, sure—he didn't blink much, and he didn't say anything either. His attention had faded to the soft rhythm of Hoseok's fingers in his hair, brushing slowly from root to tip, again and again.
They were curled together on the couch in their apartment, tangled in one of the ugly knit blankets Hoseok refused to throw away and everything should've felt perfect.
But something was off.
Yoongi exhaled quietly and let himself relax further into the broad, steady chest behind him. Hoseok had his arm around his waist, keeping him pressed close. His palm had slipped under Yoongi's oversized hoodie, resting against his bare stomach like it belonged there—which it did. It always had. His fingers were warm, moving slowly while tracing lazy circles into the skin.
It was in the quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn't empty, but full of everything that wasn't being said. Yoongi let his gaze drop to Hoseok's hand where it was curled protectively around him. He watched the way Hoseok's thumb moved back and forth over his skin.
"You're gonna rub a hole into me," Yoongi mumbled, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips even as his chest ached in that place he'd been trying to ignore for months.
He felt Hoseok's chuckle more than he heard it. It rumbled through his back. "Then I guess I'll have to patch you up," Hoseok murmured, his voice full of that soft, affectionate rasp it always got when he was half-asleep or fully in love. Yoongi wasn't sure which one this was. Maybe both.
"I'm delicate," Yoongi said dryly. "I don't think you could handle me with a sewing needle."
"True." Hoseok leaned in, pressed a kiss behind Yoongi's ear and let it linger for a beat too long. "But I'm good with glue."
Yoongi huffed out a small laugh and closed his eyes, letting the heat of the room and the weight of Hoseok's body lull him into something that almost felt like peace. The sound of the movie drifted somewhere above them—action scenes, dramatic music, someone screaming—and none of it mattered. Not compared to this. Not compared to Hoseok's heartbeat pulsing slow and steady against his spine.
They had been together for seven years. They had been through the ugly, the boring, the chaotic and the blissful. And tomorrow, they were going to get married.
Yoongi should've been buzzing with excitement. With nerves. With something . But all he could feel was this thick, quiet ache. He turned his head slightly, resting his cheek against Hoseok's shoulder. The fabric of his hoodie smelled like laundry detergent and the unmistakable and all too familiar scent of the cologne Hoseok always used.
"You okay?" Hoseok asked suddenly, his voice a little quieter now.
Yoongi hesitated. "Yeah. Just tired."
"Want me to stop?"
"No. Keep going."
And so Hoseok did. His fingers moved through Yoongi's hair with that same gentle rhythm from before. There was something about the way Hoseok touched him in these moments—like he was trying to say a thousand things without speaking.
Yoongi just didn't know what they were. Because Hoseok didn't say them. He never did.
They hadn't had sex in… what? Months? The last time, it had been brief. Messy. Hoseok had topped and Yoongi had been happy to let him, to give him that control he clearly needed. And it had felt good—it really had. But afterward, Hoseok had been distant again. Not cold, not unloving. Just with his mind somewhere else.
Yoongi never asked. He always told himself Hoseok would talk when he was ready. But they were getting married tomorrow. If there was ever a time for ready , it was now.
Yoongi's fingers found Hoseok's where they were curled around his stomach and laced their hands together, gently tugging them upward until they were pressed flat over his chest. Right over his heart.
"You thinking about tomorrow?" Yoongi asked quietly.
"Yeah," Hoseok said, just as quiet. "Of course."
"Are you excited?"
"I am."
Yoongi frowned. That's not what excited sounded like. He tried to keep his voice light, teasing. "You don't sound like it."
Hoseok was quiet. Too quiet.
Yoongi turned his head again, this time looking up at him. The room was dim—only the flicker of the TV casting light over their faces—but he could see the tightness in Hoseok's jaw. The way his eyes were a little too still.
"I really am excited," Hoseok said again, firmer this time. "I love you, Yoongi."
Yoongi nodded, not doubting that. Never doubting that. But love wasn't the question. He let his head drop back down and whispered, "Do you ever think about how things used to be?" He didn't say what he meant. He didn't have to. He felt Hoseok's breath hitch. Just barely. But it was there.
"I try not to," Hoseok said finally.
Yoongi didn't ask why. He already knew. There was something locked away in Hoseok. Something old. Something painful. And no matter how much Yoongi reached for him, Hoseok never quite let him hold it. He didn't know when the shift had happened exactly. Only that it had. And it wasn't just about sex. It was about trust. About Hoseok pulling away when things got too vulnerable. About avoiding late-night conversations and always being the one to initiate physical closeness, but never letting it go too far.
Like this—hugging on the couch, fully clothed, slow and soft and safe—that was Hoseok's limit. Anything more, and it was like flipping a switch.
Yoongi wanted to believe it wasn't him. But some days—days like this—he wasn't so sure. His chest felt tight, and not from Hoseok's arm pressed against it. From everything he couldn't say. But he still had to try. "Hobi," he said softly. "Can I ask something?"
Hoseok's hand stilled. "Of course."
"Why don't you ever let me touch you like before?" The silence that followed was loud enough to drown out the movie, the room, the world. Yoongi didn't move. Just waited. Felt his own heart thumping under their joined hands.
Hoseok's voice came eventually, low and steady, but far too controlled. "Because I don't want to hurt you."
Yoongi blinked. "What?"
"I don't want to mess this up. What we have. Us."
Yoongi turned around in his arms, slowly, until they were facing each other. Hoseok looked calm, almost too calm, but his eyes were wet at the corners. "I don't understand," Yoongi said.
Hoseok shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want to get hurt either."
"But we're not hurting each other. We're just not even trying anymore. Not really."
"That's not true."
"Then tell me the truth."
Hoseok flinched, almost imperceptibly. He pulled his hand back. Yoongi caught it. "Tell me why you pull away every time I want to get closer," he whispered. "Please."
And just like that, the quiet wasn't safe anymore. Yoongi's fingers were still wrapped around Hoseok's wrist, thumb brushing against his pulse. It was fast—too fast for someone who had just spent the last hour pretending to be relaxed on the couch. His heartbeat was a traitor. Hoseok might've been composed on the outside, but his body always gave him away.
"Tell me why you pull away every time I want to get closer," Yoongi said again, voice barely more than a breath.
Hoseok stared at him for a long second—eyes dark, unreadable—and then blinked once, slow. When he spoke, it wasn't an answer. " Did you remember to pick up your tux?" he asked, gently pulling his hand free and sitting up a little straighter.
Yoongi blinked. "What?"
"For tomorrow," Hoseok continued, shifting as if he needed something to do with his hands. He reached for the remote, turned the TV volume down until it was barely audible. "The tailor said they might've had to take the sleeves in a bit, right? Because of your shoulders?"
Yoongi didn't move. "Seriously?"
"I just don't want us to be rushing in the morning," Hoseok said, still not looking at him. "Joon's picking us up at nine. The venue needs us there by eleven to start setup. It's gonna be tight already, so if you haven't picked it up—"
"Hoseok."
That finally made him look. Not fully—just a sideways glance. Calculated. Careful.
Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You're doing it again."
"I'm not."
"You are." He turned, looking directly at him. "You're deflecting."
Hoseok ran a hand through his hair, the motion stiff. He gave a short breath of laughter. "I'm not deflecting. I'm just…" He gestured vaguely around the room. "Trying to focus on the fact that we're getting married tomorrow. That's a big deal. We should be happy, not…" He trailed off.
"Not what?"
Hoseok didn't answer.
Yoongi sat back against the couch cushions and stared at him, long and hard. The room felt warmer now—not cozy, but stifling. Like they were sitting in a sauna. "Do you ever get tired of pretending?" Yoongi asked softly.
Hoseok's expression shifted, like something caught in his throat. But his voice was even. "I'm not pretending."
Yoongi's laugh this time wasn't joyless—it was bitter. Exhausted. "Yes, you are," he said, shaking his head. "You're always pretending. That everything's fine. That you're fine. That we're still the same, even though you won't let me touch you like I used to, even though you keep shrinking around me and calling it love."
Hoseok looked stunned. Like he hadn't expected Yoongi to say it out loud. "I love you," Hoseok said quickly, and it sounded like a shield. "Don't twist that."
"I'm not twisting it," Yoongi said. "I know you love me. That's not what I'm talking about."
"Then what are you talking about?" Hoseok's voice finally lifted, brittle and tight. "You want to accuse me of not being affectionate enough? Not having sex enough? Do you need to feel needed that badly the night before our wedding?"
Yoongi flinched like he'd been slapped. "That's not true," he said quietly.
Neither of them spoke for a minute. The almost silent sounds of the movie continued in the background. A car chase. Gunshots. Screams. It all felt wildly out of place.
Yoongi let out a shaky breath. "This isn't about sex, Hobi. You know that. It's about you . About how you shut me out and pretend you're doing me a favor by not talking about it."
"I'm not shutting you out," Hoseok said, eyes darting away again. "I just… don't want to ruin everything."
"Then talk to me."
"There's nothing to say."
"Bullshit."
Hoseok stiffened. Yoongi sat forward again, reaching for his hand. Hoseok didn't stop him, but he didn't really hold on either. His fingers were limp in Yoongi's. "Three years ago," Yoongi said carefully. "That vacation to Thailand. Things changed after that."
"No, they didn't."
"Yes, they did. You stopped letting me touch you the same way. You stopped letting go . Before that, you used to laugh during sex. You used to smile at me after, like you were proud of how close we were. Now, every time I kiss your neck, it's like you disappear into your own head."
"Maybe I just got older,"Hoseok said flatly.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Lie to me."
Hoseok stood up suddenly, pulling his hand back. "I'm not doing this. Not tonight."
Yoongi stood too, slower. He didn't reach out again—just looked at him. "You're right," he said. "We are getting married tomorrow. Which is exactly why I can't keep pretending everything's okay when it's not."
"It is okay."
"It's not , Hoseok!" His voice finally broke. "We're about to promise the rest of our lives to each other and I don't even know what you're scared of!"
"I'm not scared."
"You are. You've been scared for three years. And you won't tell me why." Hoseok looked cornered, arms crossed, body tense. A man trying to keep a dam from breaking with just his hands. Yoongi softened his voice again. "Please. Just tell me what happened."
Hoseok's throat bobbed.
"I don't want to talk about the past."
"Then give me the truth now. "
There was a long, shaking silence.
"I cheated on you."
Yoongi blinked. The words didn't register at first. "What?"
Hoseok's voice was hollow. "That night. At the resort. You were out with the others. I wasn't feeling well. I went back to the hotel and…" He trailed off. Swallowed hard. "It happened."
"You—" Yoongi's breath caught in his chest. "You slept with someone?"
Hoseok didn't look at him. "Yeah."
Yoongi staggered back a step. It felt like the air had been punched out of him. "Why—Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want to lose you."
Yoongi felt like he was on fire and drowning at the same time. He pressed his fingers to his temples, heart racing, nausea creeping in around the edges. "I don't understand," he said, voice hoarse. "You said you loved me. That we were okay."
"I do," Hoseok said, quieter now. His voice was small. Small in a way Yoongi had never heard before.
Yoongi let out a soft, broken sound that wasn't quite a laugh. It cracked on the way out, something jagged and dry that didn't sound human. "You love me," he repeated numbly. "But you slept with someone else. And you thought the best time to tell me was tonight ?"
"I didn't mean to tell you at all," Hoseok muttered and immediately winced, like the words had come out wrong.
Yoongi stared at him, blinking slowly. "Jesus, Hobi."
"I'm sorry."
Yoongi didn't move. Didn't speak. He just stood there, feeling his heart tear along some invisible seam. His voice, when it finally came, was barely more than a whisper. "You said you weren't feeling well."
"I wasn't."
"So you went back to the hotel. Alone."
"Yeah."
"And then what?" His voice cracked again, rising now, desperation bleeding in. "You just ran into someone and decided to fuck them? You just forgot we were together? That we were us ?"
Hoseok's mouth opened, then closed again. His jaw tensed.
"It wasn't like that," he said.
"Then what was it like? Make it make sense, Hoseok, because right now it sounds like you blew up our entire life together for no fucking reason."
"I don't know what it was like!" Hoseok shouted suddenly, the sound tearing out of him raw and full of something that wasn't quite anger. "I wasn't thinking straight, okay? I felt sick, and I was alone, and then there was this guy, and I just—I let it happen."
Yoongi stared at him, breath stuck in his lungs like it didn't want to be part of this conversation anymore. Like his whole body wanted to opt out of this moment and everything it meant. "You just— 'let it happen '?" Yoongi repeated, voice shaking. "Hoseok, that's not an explanation. That's something people say when they knock over a glass, not when they destroy a relationship."
"I know ," Hoseok bit out, fists clenched at his sides. "I know it sounds fucked up."
Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, trembling. "Then why are you saying it like that? Why can't you just—tell me the truth?"
"I am ."
"No." Yoongi's eyes searched his face, desperate. "No, you're not. You're saying words, but they don't fit in your mouth. You're talking like someone else wrote this script for you."
"Yoongi, stop."
"No— you stop," Yoongi snapped. "Stop standing there and pretending you don't care. Because I know you. I know how much you love me. I've seen it in the way you hold my hand when no one's looking, and the way you always stay up with me when I can't sleep, and the way you whisper stupid little 'I love you's into my neck when you think I'm passed out."
Hoseok swallowed hard, eyes glossing over, but still didn't look up. "So either you're lying now," Yoongi said, quieter, breathless, "or every single moment we've shared was a lie."
Hoseok finally met his gaze and it shattered Yoongi all over again. Because his eyes weren't cold. They weren't distant. They were full of fear . Guilt, yes. Shame, too. But mostly fear. "I'm not lying," Hoseok whispered. "I did cheat. That's the truth."
Yoongi took a step back, like the words were a physical blow. His mouth opened, closed. He didn't even know what he was trying to say anymore. All he could hear was that word— cheat —looping in his head, corrupting every memory he'd ever had of Hoseok's love.
"And all this time," Yoongi said slowly, voice dangerously soft, "you just lived with it? Slept next to me every night? Looked me in the eye? Proposed to me?"
"I thought I could move past it," Hoseok said quickly, almost pleading. "I thought if I could just bury it deep enough, it wouldn't matter. I was scared, Yoongi."
"Of what?" Yoongi's voice rose again. "That I'd leave you? That I'd hate you?"
Hoseok flinched. "Yeah."
Yoongi took a sharp breath and wiped angrily at his eyes. "You should've been scared of me not knowing. Of being married and waking up one day and realizing I don't even know who I'm sleeping next to."
"I didn't want to hurt you," Hoseok said, broken. "I swear to God, that was never my intention."
"Yeah? Well you did. "
Silence slammed between them like a wall. Yoongi crossed his arms, swallowed hard, and asked again, quieter this time. "Who was he?"
"I don't know," Hoseok said instantly.
"Bullshit."
"I really don't know," he insisted, voice sharper. "I didn't ask for a name. I didn't want one."
"Because you didn't want to feel guilty?"
"No—because I wanted to forget it."
Something icy dripped down Yoongi's spine. He stared at Hoseok, suddenly still. "What does that mean?"
Hoseok opened his mouth. Closed it. And Yoongi saw it again— that flicker in his expression. That moment of sheer panic. "I just mean I didn't want to remember," Hoseok said finally. "It was a mistake. A horrible mistake. And I've spent the last three years trying to erase it."
Yoongi's voice cracked. "Then why does it still own you?"
"What?"
"Why do you flinch every time I kiss your neck? Why do you freeze up when I put my hands on your waist? Why haven't you let me touch you—not really —in years ?"
"I told you," Hoseok murmured. "It's complicated."
" Then uncomplicate it. "
Hoseok turned away from him suddenly, rubbing at his face, shoulders shaking.
And suddenly—he wasn't here anymore. He wasn't in their shared apartment, with wedding suits hanging in the closet and a cat curled up on the armchair.
He was eighteen again. Shaky hands. A racing heart. A cheap black hoodie with sleeves too long. Headphones tucked under his collar, music leaking into the seams of his hoodie.
It was March. Still cold enough to see his breath when he exhaled. He had skipped his last college class to surprise him.
"Come over ," his boyfriend had texted that morning. "I miss you already." He was three years older. Studying psychology. Knew exactly how to talk. Knew exactly how to make Yoongi feel seen. Important. Loved. It had been almost a year.
Yoongi had smiled the entire train ride, nervous and excited and maybe a little in love with the idea of what they might do that night. The first time they would be alone together for more than a few hours. His boyfriend's roommate was out of town. They had the apartment to themselves.
He had plans . Not big ones—just enough. He wanted to take things slow, maybe kiss for hours, maybe talk about their future, maybe make love for the first time.
But when he reached the apartment building, heart fluttering like an idiot, and climbed the three flights of stairs to knock on the chipped white door—
It was unlocked.
He hadn't thought much of it at the time. Just turned the knob and stepped inside, ready to call his name—
Until he heard it. A laugh. A girl's voice. Another laugh—lower this time. Familiar.
Then the bed creaked.
Yoongi had stood frozen in the entryway, a plastic convenience store bag with snacks still clutched in his hand. The apartment smelled like cheap weed and coconut lotion. It was quiet except for the low moans trickling from the open bedroom door just around the corner.
He didn't want to look. But he did. Just one step. Just far enough to see him , naked and on top of her, face buried in her neck, hips rolling in a rhythm that had never once been meant for Yoongi.
Yoongi had stood there, not breathing. They hadn't seen him. Or maybe they had and just didn't care. He didn't remember how he got out.
Only that he was back on the stairs a minute later, hands shaking, the bag still hanging from his wrist like a ghost of something innocent. His ears were ringing. His body didn't feel like his anymore. He didn't even cry until he got home.
"Hoseok," Yoongi said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands were at his sides, fists clenched, heart hammering like it was going to throw itself out of his chest. "You're not the first person who's told me they love me and still fucked someone else."
Hoseok flinched.
"And the worst part is—I believed him, too. Back then." Yoongi laughed bitterly. "I walked in. I saw him with her. And I still wondered if maybe it was my fault. If I hadn't been enough. If I hadn't said 'I love you' loud enough, or often enough, or the right way."
Hoseok turned around slowly, eyes wide now. "I didn't know—"
"Of course you didn't," Yoongi snapped. "I never told you. Just like you didn't tell me."
"I was eighteen," Yoongi went on. "I thought he was it. I thought we were forever. And he broke me like I was nothing. Like I was disposable."
He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm, breath hitching. "So when you said you cheated, when you said it just happened—I felt like I was right back there. On those stairs. With a bag of chips and a soda in my hand like an idiot."
"I didn't mean—" Hoseok took a step forward. "Yoongi, I swear, I never wanted to hurt you like that. I wasn't even thinking about you when it happened. I was just—gone."
Yoongi's voice was hoarse. "Then why did you let me think for three years that I wasn't good enough?"
Hoseok opened his mouth—and then closed it again. Yoongi looked at him, really looked at him. Hoseok stood there, spine too straight, shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact. His eyes were glassy, and his lips pressed tight together. He didn't say anything.
Just the silence. Just that stupid, deafening, horrible silence. Yoongi didn't know what he'd expected. An explanation? A deeper truth? A breakdown? He thought maybe, maybe , Hoseok would take it back. Would say, No, I didn't cheat. I couldn't. Would say, It wasn't like that. There's more. There's something I didn't tell you.
"I fucked up," Hoseok said finally, voice so soft it nearly got lost in the quiet. "And I couldn't face it. So I buried it. I buried it and tried to be better. For you. For us."
Yoongi's throat tightened.
He took a step back. "You should've told me," he said. "Back then. Right after."
Hoseok looked down at the floor. "I couldn't."
"Why?"
"Because if I said it out loud, it'd be real."
Yoongi felt something cold bleed into his chest. "So instead," he said, "you let me blame myself. You let me think I wasn't enough for you anymore."
Hoseok flinched but didn't argue. That silence, again. That infuriating, heavy silence.
"Was it just once?" Yoongi asked suddenly.
Hoseok's eyes shot up. "What?"
"With him," Yoongi clarified. "Was it just once?"
Hoseok hesitated. And Yoongi's heart twisted. "Jesus," he whispered, looking away. " Was it more than once? "
"No!" Hoseok stepped forward, voice cracking. "No, Yoongi—I swear to you, it was once. Only once. I couldn't even—God, I hated myself after. I couldn't breathe in that room. I took four showers. I couldn't even sleep that night."
Yoongi scoffed softly, bitter. "Yeah, well. I haven't slept in three years."
Hoseok looked like he might cry. Or scream. Or both. But he didn't say anything. And that said enough.
Yoongi sank down onto the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers threading through his hair. "Did you ever think about telling me before now?" he asked, not looking up.
Hoseok sat down a few feet away, cautious, like he wasn't sure he was welcome. "I almost did," he admitted. "A hundred times. But every time I looked at you and saw how much you trusted me, I couldn't. I didn't want to lose that."
Yoongi laughed. "You didn't want to lose my trust, so you lied to me for three years?"
"I didn't lie," Hoseok said quickly, then winced. "I just… didn't correct the story you were telling yourself."
Yoongi's eyes flicked up. "That's still a lie."
"I know."
They sat there like that for a long moment. The movie had ended at some point. The credits were rolling silently across the screen, white text over black. "Are you in love with him?" Yoongi asked suddenly.
"No," Hoseok said instantly. "God, no. I don't even know his name."
That sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through Yoongi. "Then why?" he whispered. "Why him?"
Hoseok shook his head. "I don't know."
"Don't give me that."
"I mean it. I wasn't… I wasn't in my right mind. I was sick. Out of it. I felt like shit and I just… I wasn't myself. I didn't go looking for it, Yoongi. I swear to you, it wasn't planned. I just—"
"You just fucked a stranger while your boyfriend was just a few hundred meters away."
Hoseok flinched, like the words hit him physically.
Yoongi didn't apologize. "I can't believe you let me go on thinking it was me ," he said, voice shaking again. "I thought maybe I wasn't attractive to you anymore. That I'd done something wrong. That I didn't turn you on like I used to. And the whole time it was because you couldn't even look at yourself."
"I didn't want you to look at me like this," Hoseok whispered.
"Too late." That landed heavy between them. Heavy enough to make Hoseok flinch again. Yoongi leaned back against the couch cushions, tipping his head up toward the ceiling like maybe he could float away from all of this if he just stopped breathing long enough.
They were supposed to get married tomorrow. The rings were in a little box on the nightstand. The guest list had been finalized. The seating chart color-coded. His mom had even cried on the phone this morning, telling him how proud she was. And now? Now he didn't even know if he could look at Hoseok without breaking. Still, part of him ached for him. Even now. Even through the betrayal. Even through the confusion. Because somewhere inside all this grief was the boy who had held him through fevers and nightmares. The boy who danced around their kitchen. The boy who whispered "forever? " into Yoongi's ear the night he proposed.
Yoongi sighed, eyes closed. "If it was just once…" he said, so quiet Hoseok almost missed it, "...why did you stop letting me touch you like you used to?"
Hoseok stared at him, lips parted. "I don't know," he said finally. "I think I didn't feel like I deserved it anymore."
Yoongi let the silence hang. It hurt too much to answer. He didn't believe him. Not really. Because none of this made sense .
Yoongi sat there, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the blank TV screen like it might give him the answers Hoseok couldn't. He was exhausted—down to the bone. But the ache didn't let him rest. Not when the pieces didn't fit. Not when something still didn't make sense.
He turned toward Hoseok. "Then tell me what happened."
Hoseok blinked, caught off guard. "I told you."
"No." Yoongi's voice was low, steady. "You told me you cheated. You told me it just happened." Hoseok looked like he was trying not to panic. "Walk me through it. Please. From the moment you left the party. I need to understand."
Hoseok didn't move for a long time.
Then, with a slow exhale, he nodded once. Eyes fixed somewhere far away. "I told you I wasn't feeling well," he started quietly. "My stomach was off all day. I don't know if it was the heat or something I ate, but I felt dizzy. Faint. And loud crowds were making it worse."
Yoongi nodded, remembering. Hoseok had looked pale that evening, hand pressed to his temple like the light was hurting him.
"I went back to the hotel," Hoseok continued, voice a little rough. "Texted you goodnight. Took a cold shower, thinking it might help. Got in bed. I was just trying to sleep."
"Okay," Yoongi said quietly. "So where does he come in?"
Hoseok paused. Just for a second. He rubbed his palms down his thighs. His knees bounced nervously.
"I left the balcony door open a crack. I just wanted fresh air. But after a while, I heard someone knock. It was a guy from the party. I barely talked to him. He said he saw me leave early. Said he wanted to check if I was okay."
"And you… let him in?"
"I didn't think it was weird at the time. I just said thanks and that I was fine. He asked if he could come in. Just for a drink."
Yoongi frowned, something twisting in his gut. "Did you offer him one?"
"No. I told him I was tired. That I didn't feel well. But he came in anyway and sat on the edge of the bed."
Yoongi's entire body tensed. Hoseok was talking like it was normal . Like all of this was fine. But Yoongi's stomach was screaming.
"I tried to stay polite," Hoseok continued, his voice almost mechanical now. "I thought if I just let him sit for a second and then asked him to leave, it wouldn't be awkward. I didn't want to be rude."
Yoongi swallowed hard. "Did he touch you?"
Hoseok hesitated. "Yeah. He put his hand on my thigh."
"And you let him?"
Hoseok's eyes flicked up at that, defensive. "I didn't ask him to."
"That's not what I said." Yoongi's whole body tensed. "Did you try to stop him?"
"I didn't know what to say. My head was foggy. I wasn't really thinking straight." Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on his knees again. His heart beat in his throat. "What happened next?"
Hoseok hesitated again. "He touched me. I let him." He said the last part quickly. Too quickly. "I didn't stop him. I didn't say no. He kissed me. He took my shirt off."
Yoongi's eyes narrowed. "Did you kiss him back?"
Hoseok blinked. "I—I don't know. Maybe."
"Did you want to?" Silence. Yoongi's voice dropped. "Hoseok."
"I don't know," Hoseok said again, weaker now. "I didn't think about wanting or not wanting. I just laid there."
"And then?" Yoongi asked.
"He… got on top of me." Yoongi's stomach flipped. Hoseok looked at his lap, cheeks pale. "He kept going. I didn't say anything. I didn't move. I felt like I was stuck inside my body."
Yoongi inhaled sharply. "Did you… use a condom?"
Hoseok's face twisted. "I don't remember. I think so. Maybe not. I don't know."
"You don't know if you used protection with a stranger?"
"I was barely there , Yoongi!" Hoseok snapped suddenly, then clamped his mouth shut.
Something clicked . It wasn't a specific detail. It was all of it. The way Hoseok spoke. How stiff he was in his own skin. The language he used. "I didn't say no," "I let him," "I just laid there." Yoongi felt cold all over. "You were sick. Dizzy. Disoriented."
"Yes."
"He followed you to your room."
"Yes."
"He let himself in without you inviting him."
"Yes."
"You didn't stop him because you couldn't move."
Hoseok went silent. Yoongi's throat closed. "And you call that cheating?"
Hoseok's face snapped toward him. "Don't."
Yoongi's eyes were wild now, wide with something close to horror. "You're describing assault. You're describing being taken advantage of."
"I'm not," Hoseok said quickly, shaking his head. "I didn't stop him. That's not—"
"You couldn't stop him," Yoongi interrupted. "That's not consent ."
"I didn't say no," Hoseok whispered.
"You didn't say yes either," Yoongi shot back.
Hoseok stood, suddenly, backing away. "Yoongi, don't do this . I told you the truth. I told you I cheated . Don't twist it into something else just to make me less of a monster."
"You're not a monster," Yoongi said, rising too. "But you are in denial."
"I don't want your pity."
"It's not pity," Yoongi said. "It's rage . At him. You were hurt and you buried it so deep, you convinced yourself it was a mistake you made, not something that was done to you." Hoseok stared at him. Yoongi's voice softened, but only slightly. "Tell me one thing. If I described that exact same story to you—but it was me instead of you—what would you call it?"
Hoseok's face fell. He didn't answer. He didn't have to. Yoongi crossed the space between them, slowly. Reached out, but stopped short of touching him.
"You don't have to say the word," he said gently. "But you also don't have to keep lying to yourself."
Hoseok's lips trembled. "If I say it out loud… it's real."
"It's already real," Yoongi said. "But it doesn't have to define you."
Hoseok's eyes filled with tears. He just stood there, shoulders drawn up. His eyes were wet and furious and exhausted all at once. His whole body had gone tight. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. His jaw clenched because he was forcing himself not to shake, not to cry, not to scream. His chest heaved as though just breathing was suddenly too much .
"I was r—" His voice cracked. Completely. He coughed, tried again. His throat worked around the word like it was choking him. "I was…" He still couldn't say it.
Yoongi took a step closer, so gently it didn't even make a sound on the floor. "It's okay," he whispered. "Take your time."
Hoseok stared straight ahead, eyes locked on nothing, like if he didn't make eye contact with Yoongi, it would hurt less. "I was r—" He flinched again. Physically recoiled from the word like it burned his tongue.
Yoongi's heart shattered. "Say it if you need to," he said softly. "Not for me. Not for the word. Just for you ."
Hoseok swallowed hard. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he finally said, "I was raped."
It hung in the air like a gunshot in a quiet room.
Yoongi didn't move. Didn't speak. He just watched Hoseok crumble. "I was raped," he repeated, more desperate this time. "I didn't want it. I didn't ask for it. He came into our room and I—I couldn't think. I didn't stop him. I couldn't." His voice broke again. "I didn't even fight. I froze. I just laid there and waited for it to be over."
Yoongi's hands twitched at his sides. And Hoseok kept going. Because now it was pouring out of him. A dam broken, years of silence flooding the room. "I told myself it was my fault. That I was weak. That it didn't count because I didn't push him off or scream. Because I let him finish. Because I didn't bleed. Because I'm a man."
Yoongi's breath caught. "I'm a man," Hoseok said again. "And men don't get raped, right? We're the ones who do it. That's what the world thinks. That's what I thought. So I kept it to myself. I shoved it so deep down, I convinced myself it was cheating. Because that I could live with. But this—this?" He choked on the next word. "I can't even look at myself."
Yoongi reached out then, slowly and laid a warm hand on Hoseok's shoulder.
Hoseok shuddered. Not because of Yoongi's touch—but because the wall was gone now. The lie had cracked. The shame had bled out. And there was nothing left to protect him. He collapsed into Yoongi's arms. Full-body sobs tearing through him, his knees giving out as Yoongi caught him.
Yoongi didn't say anything. Just lowered them both to the floor, wrapping his arms around Hoseok.
"I've got you," he whispered into his hair. "You're safe. It's over. He can't hurt you anymore."
Hoseok clung to him like he was drowning. "I hate myself," he whispered, voice shredded. "Every time you looked at me like I was yours, I felt like I was lying to you."
"You weren't," Yoongi said, holding him tighter. "You were hurt . It's okay."
"But it changed everything," Hoseok sobbed. "I couldn't stand the idea of someone touching me like that again. Not even you. Not even someone I love."
Yoongi nodded, tears slipping down his own cheeks now. "That's okay. That's not your fault. That's trauma."
"I thought I'd ruined everything."
"You didn't," Yoongi said, his voice low but certain. "You didn't ruin anything. He did." Hoseok breathed in sharply, like it physically hurt to hear that out loud. Yoongi kissed the top of his head. "You don't have to carry this alone anymore."