Chapter Text
It begins with two celestial bodies destined to orbit each other. As eons open and close, gravity laces itself around them, digging into their skin and tugging them closer until the moment when they inevitably collide, a breathtaking explosion of fire and light. Time doesn’t exist here, but still, the universe suspends them within it, lashes of flame and bursts of light echoing out light-years away to be observed by the vast hollow of the universe and every infinitesimal galaxy within it.
They have forgotten the first convergence by now. This universe holds only shreds of memories of the past (a brush of hands, the glint in a set of brown eyes, a quiet laugh) and while they have forgotten the first time and every time after by now, history suggests it went something like this:
Hoseok looks up from his hands - maybe then he was a cobbler layering glue to a sole, or a lord overseeing scrollwork with an extended index finger, or a beggar turning his palms up in the hopes that crumbs or change may fall into them - to see him. There's nothing about him that begs attention; in fact, he is small, and he is ordinary, and it takes the right kind of scrutiny and a gentle hand to coax the extraordinary from him.
For that reason, the universe seems to have made Hoseok his personal empath, crafted with hands gentle enough to hold paper-thin porcelain just for him.
It happens both in the span of one millisecond and over the course of many millennia.
It happens in the moment the very first time Hoseok's retinas catch on the color of his skin, firing neurotransmitters to his brain, giving him a breath to process the information and deliver it, sealed for permanence, to the thrumming muscle behind his ribs. It happens in every glance following, every lingering stare and every sideways look, from across the room or across the altar alike.
It happens in the first touch of their skin centuries and centuries ago, in another life, Hoseok’s touch searing a permanent scar under his skin and marking him as if to ensure that he can find him again in every subsequent lifetime, and it happens in each gentle caress after, in their lovemaking and in their fights, in interlaced fingers and lips drawn across skin.
Maybe it is still happening now, in this universe. Maybe Hoseok was born to love him every single time.
And maybe, in a way, he was made to be loved by Hoseok. Maybe he was born - every single time - with a Hoseok-shaped hole in his chest, and Hoseok - every single time - fit himself into it.
"Do you ever think about fate?" Jimin asked, swirling the champagne in his glass with an indiscernible expression.
It was just before midnight now, January 1st, 2016. The day had been a rare one of peace without a schedule, crammed between broadcasts and fansigns, and the group had spent it in loaded near-silence, celebrating the New Year on their own; Namjoon and Yoongi, predictably, in the studio, and Seokjin and the youngest two with movies in one of the bedrooms, leaving Hoseok and Jimin to relax in the living room with the most expensive bottle of alcohol either had ever indulged in - but it was New Year's, and they deserved to carry it in with a treat. The previous year had failed to yield them a daesang, but now, the weight and hope of another year have fallen into their laps.
There is a strange sort of phenomenon that happens at the turn of the year. In this moment, time is both the most significant and least significant that it will ever be.
The one second it takes the clock to change does not erase history. It does not wipe away loss or pain or mistakes, and it does not provide a clean slate. It is one second, no more significant than any other.
But it is in this second, perhaps, that people become the most introspective, a certain strain of adrenaline heightening the senses. Every past January 1, 12:00 AM rears its head - what have you done in these 365 days? Did you even keep your list of resolutions? Where are the people you popped champagne with last year? - in a crushing reminder of the fleeting nature of time. Like a predator inspires its prey, the new year inspires change.
Jimin's question drew Hoseok out of his own dunk into the metaphorical lake of introspection, and he had to ask, "What?" because it took him more than the three seconds it took for Jimin to speak to fully come to.
"Fate," Jimin repeated, eyes glassy but focused towards Hoseok. "Do you ever think about it?"
"Everyone thinks about fate," Hoseok said. Of course he'd thought about fate, though maybe not in such narrow terms; Hoseok praised his luck every single day that he met Jimin, for example, but rarely questioned the mechanisms of destiny and the riddle yet to be solved: fate versus free will. It was just one of those things that was, no matter what anyone believed.
"But do you?"
"Why are you asking?" Hoseok cut back.
"I could've been born a hundred years ago," Jimin said. "Or I could have decided to stick with fencing. Or keep up the family business, like my dad wanted."
"This again?" Hoseok asked with a light tone and leaned back, pushing off from where his elbows were reclined against his knees to sit prostrate. "Haven't I told you that you made the right choice, so long as you're happy?"
"It's not that," Jimin said. "But... What are the chances? That we met?" He took a sip from his champagne, utilizing the opportunity to plan his words. "What if you'd done something else? What if you had gone with JYP? Or what if BigHit never took me? So many things had to happen for… things to happen… how they did... For me to meet you."
"Hm."
"What?"
"I've always kind of thought that everything happens for a reason. If we didn't meet, we would have met other people and gone about our lives never knowing we had even missed each other somewhere along the line. You know?"
Jimin's eyebrows furrowed together, and he said, "I don't want to think about that."
Hoseok squeezed his knee. "But you wouldn't even know," he said. "Maybe you were meant to meet someone else. And maybe I was, too. Maybe we're missing out on something we don't even know exists."
"No," Jimin interjected. "I don't believe that."
"No?"
"No." For a moment they brined in steely silence, until Jimin continued, "I think that I would always feel like something was missing." If I hadn’t met you. If I didn’t have you.
"Even if you had everything you ever wanted?"
"I wouldn't have that if I didn't have you, hyung."
Hoseok leaned his weight into Jimin and reclined his head on Jimin's shoulder, smelling the alcohol on Jimin's lips and the detergent in his shirt. "You're a sap."
"I'm being serious, hyung," Jimin said. "I don't want to think about a universe where we haven't met."
"Well," Hoseok said, "don't. We met in this one. Does it matter if we didn't meet in other ones?"
Jimin didn't seem to be quieted by this thought. "It matters. I want to meet you in every lifetime."
"Who's to say you haven't?" Hoseok said. "Maybe we have met in every lifetime. Maybe there are a million universes and we've met in every single one of them. Maybe there's even a universe where you're taller than me."
Hoseok's attempt to lighten Jimin's mood didn't go unappreciated, a faint smile dancing across Jimin's lips. "Maybe there's a universe where you're the handsome one."
"There is," Hoseok said, nosing at Jimin's neck. "That is one of the few things I'm positive of."
"Very funny," Jimin said.
But Jimin didn't take the bait, so Hoseok had to say, "Ask me what else I'm sure about."
"What else are you sure about?" Jimin grumbled.
"For starters, I'm sure that I want to meet you in every lifetime, too. Even if I'm the ugly one there."
Jimin grinned and elbowed Hoseok's ribs good-naturedly. "What else?"
"I'm sure that we'll never know," Hoseok said, "and I'm sure that you stressing yourself out about it will only give you ulcers."
At this, Jimin rolled his eyes. "Is that all?"
"No, not yet." Hoseok slipped the champagne glass from Jimin's hand and onto the coffee table, then hoisted himself into Jimin's lap, straddling him. "I'm sure that I love you, and I'm sure that you're beautiful."
Jimin flushed, looking like he wanted to say something but staying silent instead.
"I'm sure that I'm glad I met you in this universe," Hoseok said, voice barely above a whisper as he drew his fingertips under Jimin's chin. "And I'm sure that I want to spend as much of this lifetime as possible with you."
"Hyung," Jimin whispered as Hoseok ducked in to kiss him softly. (For once, they decided to respect community spaces and leave it at a light peck.)
"Listen," Hoseok said after pulling back. "Yoongi-hyung told me about what you said while you were shopping." To illustrate, Hoseok twirled the ring on his pinky finger. "Don't be mad at him."
"I don't - what did I say while shopping?"
"About the rings not being engagement rings yet."
Jimin's cheeks tinged pink, and he pinched his eyes closed. "It was a joke, Hobi-hyung, don't think - "
"Don't worry," Hoseok said, stroking the side of his face. "I didn't take it too seriously. But I... I guess, just, it made me think about things. Like how, ultimately, we don't know anything right now. It comes back to the whole fate-versus-free-will debate. So... maybe we're not destined to be together, but that doesn't mean we won't be."
At Jimin's disquieted silence, Hoseok cupped his cheeks in both hands.
"I mean that in every lifetime we have choices. Love is a choice. Forgiveness is a choice. Doing nothing is a choice." Hoseok dipped his head to touch noses with Jimin. "So, even if the cards are against us in this or any universe, we don't have to accept it. I'm sure as hell not letting this 'destiny' guy take you away from me. He can pry you from my cold, dead hands."
"That's not funny," Jimin said, horror clouding his features.
"It wasn't a joke." Hoseok didn't allow for a response, covering Jimin's lips with his own. Jimin balled his fists in the back of Hoseok's shirt and tugged him closer, mouth already awaiting the press of Hoseok's tongue, slick and hot.
The weight of the atmosphere eluded neither of them. Now, both of them sensed an urgency to prove themselves and their dedication to each other, to the impending year, to their lifetime. They held each of these in their hands together.
Jimin was the first to take hold of Hoseok's hand and suggest they move to the bedroom, long after Hoseok's hips had begun writhing in his lap with need. He stood and hoisted Hoseok's legs around his waist to carry him to the bedroom, the elder suckling at his ear in a way that had his knees buckling from more than just the weight he was carrying.
They never made it to the bed. Hoseok bit into the cartilage of Jimin's ear and he faltered, dropping Hoseok onto his ass and just managing to catch himself from collapsing on top of Hoseok. At first, Hoseok shouted, but then, even though tears welled in his eyes from the hard fall, he slung his arms back around Jimin and tightened his legs behind Jimin's, yanking him back into one of the most surprising and fiercest kisses of his life. He tasted like sparkling alcohol and sweet cranberries, Hoseok laving the flavor off his lips and teeth as Jimin groaned above him, still fighting laughs from the fall.
Hoseok's dexterity with his hips was something Jimin hoped he would never take for granted. Hoseok lifted one leg higher, hooking it over Jimin's waist, and rolled up, the denim of their pants causing a friction that bordered on painful. Jimin saw stars for a moment, drawing back in a gasp - but Hoseok didn't let him go that easily, catching Jimin's lip between his teeth to incite another deep grunt. He gripped Hoseok's hip in one hand and pressed into Hoseok with the next hip roll, and it became better - harder and hotter, but better.
Though Hoseok could never tire of Jimin's lips, he began to wonder if his neck tasted as sweet and relocated his mouth to find out. It was a shame, really, that he couldn't leave more hickeys, because Jimin always looked stunning in purple (Hoseok’s biased opinion aside), and his neck left an addictingly salty-sweet taste in his mouth.
Hoseok mouthed across Jimin's shoulder, inching aside the collar of his shirt with his nose as he went. Under his mouth, Jimin's reservations fell away, a shedding of the oppressive skin he donned for the rest of the world. With Hoseok, there were no defenses or walls. It was one of many regrets, Jimin thought, that he ever shut Hoseok out to begin with.
Hoseok's nimble fingers fought with the buttons of his shirt until they could wrench it open and chafe over the skin of his chest, the muscle taut from the in season (which had been an increasingly longer season every year since their debut, as their schedules grew busier and busier). With his mouth at the dip between Jimin's collarbones, his fingers tweaked at Jimin's nipples causing him to gasp, bearing his hips down with a little more force.
"Hobi-hyung," Jimin heaved, chest swelling and shrinking to the time of his heavy pants. "I want to fuck you."
At the words, Hoseok whined, mouth finally releasing Jimin's flesh to allow the words, "Please, god."
Again their lips met, softer than before but no less pressing or passionate. Jimin slicked his tongue over Hoseok's bottom lip, coppery and swollen from overuse, and gentled them into reversed positions on the unforgiving wooden floor, Hoseok straddling his thighs.
“Babe,” Jimin groaned, “can you grab the lube?”
So Hoseok did, walking on his knees across the floor to his nightstand. He tossed the bottle at Jimin’s head (“Hyung, that hurt, you dick.”) then perched on all fours over Jimin.
Looking impatient, Jimin hooked his fingers into Hoseok’s belt loops. “Off,” he said.
“If you want them off, you take them off,” Hoseok scoffed, laughing.
“Fine. I will.” A sudden voracity overtook Jimin, who grabbed Hoseok’s jaw and yanked him into yet another piquant kiss. The skin of his lips gave under Jimin’s touch, soft and glossy from spit, and Jimin let his hands wrap behind Hoseok to trail down his spine, digging into the depressions between his vertebrae. It was only a matter of seconds before he travelled lower, sliding his hands under the waistband of Hoseok’s jeans to grip his ass and wrenched his hips roughly into his own. Hoseok, caught off-guard, yelped and bit down, drawing blood from Jimin’s lip.
“Ow,” Jimin said. “Why do you keep hurting me?”
Hoseok winked.
“You’re so kinky,” Jimin fussed, though he was unable to keep himself from grinning as he flicked the button on Hoseok’s pants open with his thumb.
“As if it hasn’t served you well.”
“I didn’t say that.”
As soon as Hoseok’s pants slid halfway down his thighs, Jimin dug his palm into the growing erection through his boxers and Hoseok gasped.
“It’s been too long,” Hoseok said.
“It’s been two days.”
“Two days too long,” Hoseok whined, and Jimin agreed, albeit silently, toying at the head of Hoseok’s dick with languid fingers.
“Stop teasing me.”
“Fine,” Jimin sighed, pecking Hoseok on the lips. “Stay like this. Don’t move.” Jimin slid out from under Hoseok to sit on his knees behind him, hands immediately massaging into the flesh of Hoseok’s ass. Hoseok whimpered and wiggled his hips, letting his body tell Jimin everything he needed to know.
Diving forward, Jimin grazed his tongue and teeth over the skin of Hoseok’s back until it darkened into a bruise while he worked Hoseok’s boxers down his legs. Once appropriately bare, Jimin smacked his palm over the smooth skin once, then twice, eliciting a contented coo from Hoseok.
Grappling for the bottle off the floor, Jimin coated his fingers in lube, waiting a moment to let it warm on his skin before stroking a finger over Hoseok’s hole. The elder jerked in yearning until, finally, Jimin pressed a single finger in, wriggling at the rim before venturing deeper to find the spot that would have Hoseok in tears. (He’d learned after the first occurrence of Hoseok bottoming that stimulating Hoseok’s prostate could make him come at the drop of a hat, and since then had utilized this information rather wickedly.)
Luckily, Jimin excelled at this after weeks of regular practice, and when he slid his finger against Hoseok’s prostate, the elder let slip a raw moan. “More,” he pleaded. “I’m ready.”
Because Hoseok sometimes rushed himself, Jimin waited another moment before pulling out and pushing forward with a second finger, stealing Hoseok’s breath with more urgent strokes to his prostate. His other hand continued to caress and squeeze Hoseok’s ass.
The addition of the third finger caused a slight burn, but they’d been doing this often enough lately that within moments, the pain withered away to simmering bliss. Hoseok’s dick drifted between his legs with every nudge of Jimin’s fingers, dripping onto the floor.
“You ready, hyung?”
“Yes,” Hoseok mewled in a breathless keen.
Pants off, condom on, coated in lube, Jimin pressed forward into snug heat, swallowing back a groan. Without hesitation, Hoseok reached behind himself, face to the floor, to grab Jimin’s hips and wrench him the rest of the way in.
“Move,” he puled, still trying to urge Jimin’s hips with his hands.
Each thrust – starting slowly, increasing to labored, rapid thrusts – had Hoseok’s body wracking forward, Jimin holding him in place by his hips as the lewd sound of skin colliding with skin emphasizing the intensity.
Hoseok had begun to wail (really, there was no other word for it), and Jimin slowed, brushing over Hoseok’s lower back.
“Shh,” he said, “the others are trying to rest.”
“I am not,” Hoseok replied, “nor have I ever been quiet.”
Jimin had to concede that that much was true, and for now, he decided, it was probably okay – Namjoon and Yoongi were still at the studio, and Jin and the younger two could always turn their TV up (though he would probably feel a little bit bad about being so noisy if he didn’t feel so fucking good). Later he would realize that they all must have heard, because Taehyung didn’t even try to enter their room until both Hoseok and Jimin rose from it the next day, showered and clothed appropriately.
So Jimin kept his hand on Hoseok’s back, then let the other find the back of Hoseok’s head, fingers slipping through his hair, palm flat against his head, until he curled them in one movement and pulled.
The cry Hoseok elicited – spine arching, elbows shaking – gave Jimin all the confidence he needed to do it again, still thrusting forward. Beads of sweat gathered on Hoseok’s back and he longed to fall forward and lick them off (where did that come from?), but instead focused on angling his hips just right, tugging Hoseok’s hair and letting his dick rub against Hoseok’s prostate every time.
“Fuck, fuck,” Hoseok cried, “don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” Jimin grunted.
All at once Hoseok’s spine stiffened and he clenched down on Jimin, who released his grip on Hoseok’s hair to let his head fall forward as he came with a series of decrescendo-ing moans. Jimin fucked him through it, gently winding him down from his orgasm as Jimin approached the edge of his own. He pulled out and ditched the condom, then, in a few quick strokes, streaked Hoseok’s back in come.
“Mmph,” Jimin groaned, lowering himself onto the floor on his back next to Hoseok, who instantly crawled halfway on top of him.
“I love you, Jimin,” Hoseok said, “but let’s never, ever have floor sex ever again.”
“You were the one who made me fall over,” Jimin mumbled.
“I didn’t say I blamed you,” Hoseok said. He stretched forward to kiss Jimin, upper lip glistening with sweat, and suggested a shower.
The water helped some – especially with the sticky lube and come they’d managed to get everywhere - but did little for either of their sore knees.
Hoseok lathered shampoo in Jimin’s hair, giving him cat ears with his hair as Jimin scowled and smacked his hands away.
“Yeah,” Jimin said finally, “let’s never have floor sex again. Like, ever.”
“Never again.” (Spoiler alert: They did it again in the future. More than once.)
The slippery shower kisses Hoseok gave Jimin reminded him of the night in the hot tub so many weeks ago, back before any of this became real, before he and Hoseok ever had sex. Before they ever told each other in earnest that they loved each other, and before they agreed to try a relationship.
“I really, really wanted to have sex with you that night in the hot tub,” Jimin said, sucking droplets of water off Hoseok’s chest.
“It was mutual,” Hoseok said, “but my morals still stand: you don’t fuck drunk people, and especially not if they’re your best friend and you haven’t established boundaries.”
“I… I know I was difficult about that, before. And I’m sorry. I was just eager and didn’t really want to admit that there might be consequences for our actions.”
“It’s okay,” Hoseok said. “I kept you in check, didn’t I?”
And then Hoseok was kissing him again, pressing him back against the slick shower wall, hands stroking down his sides. The tile wall dug into his shoulder blades, cold and sharp, but Hoseok’s body flush to his own was warm and supple. His body stirred in a way that should have been impossible considering just how recently he’d been literally balls deep inside of Hoseok, and Hoseok smirked, tongue laving over the skin under Jimin’s ear.
“Can’t get enough of me, huh,” he commented.
“Never,” Jimin said, reaching over to shut off the water.
Jimin’s hair was wet when his head hit the pillow. Hoseok had filthy intentions judging by the wicked gleam in his eye and how he moved to straddle Jimin, but Jimin tugged him down onto his shoulder for the time being. Droplets of water clung to both of them, and Jimin could smell the soap and shampoo lingering on Hoseok’s body. He shifted, retangled himself with Hoseok so his nose pressed against Hoseok’s neck, and he kissed away some of the dampness there.
“You smell so nice,” Jimin whispered.
Hoseok’s fingers walked over the hill of Jimin’s hip and up his arm before sliding back down. The cool air around them and the water on their skin alone was enough to make him shiver, and Hoseok’s light touches had his spine prickling. Blue light spilled in from the night sky, making Hoseok’s skin gleam.
“So do you,” Hoseok murmured, breath warm in Jimin’s hair.
Jimin’s heart hurt from beating too hard. Despite the cold, heat danced under his skin and made him squirm.
“I love you,” Jimin said. He cupped Hoseok’s jaw in both hands and guided his lips down into a kiss, a kiss that tasted like clean skin and toothpaste and Hoseok.
How something can be not enough and too much at once, Jimin didn’t know, but this was. He whimpered and threw his leg over Hoseok’s hip, dragging him closer. The hand on his side froze before sliding to his back and holding him tight to Hoseok’s chest. Both of them were half-mast already, pressed against each other – a result of being this close and this naked – and it was still too much and not enough.
Hoseok sensed the tension and urgency coursing through Jimin, and smoothed his fingers over the nape of Jimin’s neck.
“Shh,” he says, “it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jimin nodded, eyes closed, and Hoseok lowered his head to kiss Jimin’s cheek.
Kisses. Kisses. Kisses. There was nothing but the touch of Hoseok’s lips to Jimin’s cooling skin, trickling from his cheeks to his neck and lower. When he finished, pink and purple marks would grace Jimin’s torso in winding paths. He took his time, but he didn’t tease; when his mouth reached Jimin’s erection, he kissed that too, then sucked the head into this mouth.
He didn’t linger, though, instead directing Jimin onto all fours.
“Can I eat you out?” Hoseok asked him, kissing behind his ear.
“I… If you’re sure you want to,” Jimin said, finding Hoseok’s hand behind him and squeezing it.
“I am,” Hoseok said. “I love your ass. So much.”
“Please don’t wax poetic about my ass right now.”
“Wasn’t gonna,” Hoseok said. “My mouth’s about to be a little preoccupied. Let me know if you want me to stop, m’kay?”
“Yeah.”
It was after three when Hoseok, drained and sticky and a myriad of other things, not all unpleasant, collapsed onto the tiny bed next to Jimin and sighed.
Bones jelly and muscles trembling, Jimin wormed closer to Hoseok, not in search of contact but proximity. Just being close to Hoseok, being able to feel his weight on the bed, sensing him in the same space, was enough.
After a moment, Hoseok snorted weakly. "We have a schedule tomorrow."
"We've done schedules with worse," Jimin said, tracing the hickeys on his stomach. "We're just lucky we don't have to perform shirtless."
"Or in really deep v-necks," Hoseok added, letting his eyes slip closed. (Man, did 2016 have some surprises in store.)
Jimin giggled and poked Hoseok in the side. "You going to sleep now?"
"Yes," Hoseok said, "and you should too. We have to get up in five hours."
"Lemme go clean up first," Jimin groaned, rolling off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. "Next time we move dorms, remind me to ask about bigger beds."
"Should we ask for soundproofed rooms, too?" Hoseok called.
Jimin answered by throwing a damp washcloth at him. "Maybe some of those fancy adjustable lights, too. The ones you can dim for mood lighting."
"Better yet," Hoseok said, wiping himself down, "we could just ask for a walk-in closet and convert that into a sex dungeon."
"I don't know about a dungeon. Isn't a dungeon underground by definition?"
"Don't start with me. I'm mostly asleep right now."
Jimin disposed of the soiled washcloth and slid under the covers next to Hoseok. "I'm not the one who thought round three was a good idea."
"You're really gonna have to start cracking the whip, then, Jiminie. First the floor sex, now this. I'm out of control," Hoseok mumbled.
"I don't think cracking the whip is the right answer," Jimin laughed. "Those can leave some nasty marks."
Hoseok fought back a grin, but tiredness won over both the laugh and his resolve, and he began to drift. Jimin's fingers danced over his bare chest, the gentle caresses carrying him over into sleep.
Around six, Jimin's eyes burned with the dryness of exhaustion when they squinted open, and it took him longer than it should have to notice Hoseok watching him, face next to his on the pillow, arm curled over his waist. The scent of sex had finally dissipated, and instead he smelled Hoseok - not his soap or aftershave, but Hoseok, au naturale.
"Hobi-hyung... Why're you awake," Jimin grumbled, rolling onto his side to burrow closer to Hoseok's warmth.
"You're so beautiful," Hoseok whispered.
"I'll still be just as beautiful tomorrow," Jimin said, lips barely moving, eyes more closed than open. "You need sleep, babe."
Hoseok hummed and tucked Jimin under his chest, heart swelling.
For so long, Hoseok never even let himself entertain the idea that he could live in this reality. There were too many obstacles, starting with Jimin's once-ambiguous sexuality and ending with South Korea's attitude about this kind of thing (actually, the whole world's attitude, it seemed, even if the United States had finally legalized gay marriage in 2015).
But now, Jimin, the little kid from Busan he'd met almost four years ago now, who was once quiet and endearing and now is fiery and irresistible, the boy who used to fold into a ninety-degree bow after watching Hoseok dance - that boy was tucked securely under his chin and snoring softly. And he wasn't really a boy anymore; no, Jimin was a man, an adult, someone who walked a path he paved himself and made his own decisions. One of those decisions was to love himself, and another to love Hoseok.
It still amazed him, sometimes. More often than he'd like to admit. Jimin could have chosen anyone, any one of the girls who swooned over him. He could have pursued another member (though, Hoseok admitted, that would guarantee varied levels of reception) or chosen abstinence from relationships altogether. But somewhere along the line, he chose Hoseok.
(If Hoseok could see what Jimin did, he would know that it was never really a choice for Jimin at all; Jimin was dealt a hand, and his winning card was Hoseok's presence in his life.)
Hoseok at least knew that he never had to make the decision about Jimin. The moment Jimin had carried himself and his little duffel bag into the studio all those years ago, he erupted Hoseok's world with a display of color. In a constellation of people, Jimin had always shone the brightest. Hoseok never had to wonder if he chose correctly; he never had the willpower to look away from Jimin in the first place.
So, with Jimin pressed against him, the last thing he said before drifting back to sleep was, "You're right."