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Some days, Yoongi liked his job. Really. He did.
Some days, he got to the store before anyone else did, before they were even open. He liked it then, when it was just him, alone in the cavernous megamart, sitting in the deli even though he wasn't supposed to outside of business hours, with a cup or three of coffee and some motivational music in his earbuds.
“Motivational” was a pretty loose term, actually. It was a lot of thumping bass and rants about the general lack of intelligence found in polite society, for the most part.
Yoongi thought it was pretty necessary, when you worked retail.
Some days, Yoongi liked his job. Honestly.
Some days, he got to do what he would call real, good work. He helped lost kids find their parents. He chased elderly couples into the parking lot before they could get too far, when they left their keys at the register. He ran the floor of this whole giant place. People answered to him. Some days, he could pretend like he had some semblance of control over his life.
Today was not one of those days.
It was early. It was still before noon, and Seokjin knew better than to screw with Yoongi before noon. Yet here it was, barely eight, and Yoongi was being presented with a new trainee. It was getting to be the holiday season. They needed the help, and Yoongi knew it. He just hoped the kid wasn’t too much of a doofus.
On first glance, he seemed all right.
“Hi!” the kid started brightly, and Yoongi could forgive the enthusiasm. It was his first day. He would learn.
He tried to form something resembling a smile and aim it back at the kid, but he had to aim it back and up, way up, because this kid was fucking tall. Yoongi managed to keep his sigh internal. They were always tall.
“I’m Kim Taehyung. Super excited to be here,” the kid continued, and the voice coming out of his mouth was so unexpectedly deep and warm that it was really throwing Yoongi off. Seokjin was glancing back and forth between them, his aggressively pleasant customer service face firmly on, but Yoongi could see when it started to crack as Taehyung waited for a response.
He decided to let the silence drag on for a while, if only because he enjoyed messing with Seokjin. He especially enjoyed messing with Seokjin before noon, when Seokjin knew good and well he’d messed with Yoongi.
Finally, Seokjin cleared his throat, adjusting the little name tag on his vest that bore his name and his title: General Manager. He shot Yoongi a disappointed look just before he began to speak, which Yoongi dutifully ignored, in accordance with the prophecy.
“Taehyung, this is Yoongi. He’s Floor Manager, so you’ll be reporting to him for now. We’ve got exactly…” Seokjin trailed off, checking his watch. “Exactly thirty-seven days until Halloween, and as per usual, nothing’s done--”
“It’ll get done. Just like it does every year,” Yoongi grumbled, chagrined. Seokjin didn’t hesitate to perform one of the more exaggerated eyerolls Yoongi had ever witnessed in his life, before he went on.
“As per usual, nothing’s done, so you’ll have a lot to do. The both of you,” Seokjin emphasized. Yoongi liked Seokjin a lot, when they weren't on the clock together.
That practiced, perfect smile made its way back onto Seokjin’s face as he neared the end of his comments. “Yeah. So. Y’know. Get to it!” he all but chirped, clapping Yoongi on the back and giving Taehyung a nod. The kid wasn't paying attention. He’d pulled off his nametag and was using a permanent marker and reckless ingenuity to carefully augment the stuck on letters to read TaeTae, rather than Taehyung.
Some days, Yoongi liked his job. He just had to keep telling himself that and everything would be fine.
He sighed and began leading Taehyung back to the stockroom. On their way, they passed Jimin, fixing his hair in the small mirror he kept next to his register. Jimin flashed them a grin, and Yoongi couldn’t help but grin back. Damn Park Jimin and his insufferable eyesmile. Yoongi walked in front of Taehyung, and introduced him to Jungkook, behind the deli counter making sandwiches, and Namjoon, hopefully not electrocuting himself (again) over in hardware. They passed the large supply closet, door hung open carelessly, and when Taehyung peeked in, Yoongi had to explain the deep scratches that striped the walls.
Well, he explained it as best he could, because no one actually knew what had happened a month ago. They'd all assumed it was a break-in, but nothing was missing, and only the supply closet was compromised. The police came, looked around, and assured them it was probably a stray animal that had gotten into the store and panicked. Probably a dog, they said.
Yoongi didn’t know much about dogs, but he was pretty fuckin’ sure he’d never seen a dog that could make those marks.
Jungkook volunteered to fix the damage. Seokjin had been looking up spackling on the internet. Nothing had been done yet.
Yoongi tried to remember if there was any other important people here Taehyung should meet. He didn’t like many people, as a rule. Those were just the few who’d managed to not care about that fact.
When Yoongi swung open the stockroom door, he remembered the one other person Taehyung should have met. They probably would have gotten along.
Not that he ever completely forgot about Hoseok.
Hoseok didn’t work here anymore, hadn’t in months. Almost five of them, actually. Four months, twelve days and about (Yoongi made himself stop short of checking his phone to confirm the current time) nine hours. It wasn’t like he’d been counting, or anything. Whatever.
This place, the overstuffed, under-dusted stockroom of the friendly neighborhood Big Won, was the scene of their break-up.
Yoongi still wasn’t sure if you could call it a “break-up”, per se. Breaking up implied dating. They were never really dating. Yoongi made sure of that.
Yoongi was a real dumbass sometimes.
*
He and Hoseok had met here, in corporate retail hell. Pretty soon, Hoseok was the only reason Yoongi looked forward to coming to work. He was a cashier, like Jimin, and Yoongi found himself hanging around the front way more often suddenly, bagging for Hoseok just to look like he was doing something important with his time.
They hung out at the front, and then they hung out on their breaks, and then their breaks turned into makeout sessions. They made out in the bathroom hall, and in the training room. Sometimes they even made out in the outdoor furniture department, sitting on the swinging bench under the giant umbrella set up for display.
They made out on the clock, and then they made out off the clock, in Hoseok’s car when he dropped Yoongi off at his apartment after work.
They made out right here in this stockroom, just once. Right before Hoseok told Yoongi that they needed to talk.
Yoongi had frowned, because they had just been kissing, and he was sort of a huge fan of kissing Hoseok, but he agreed. He sat down on a pallet and let Hoseok talk.
At first, he didn’t quite get where the conversation was going. Hoseok was talking about his job and his future and school and life, but then it circled back around to Yoongi, and after a while, just when Yoongi started to kind of fade out, Hoseok dropped five words on his head that felt like hammers.
“What are we doing, Yoongi?”
Yoongi stared at him. He didn’t know how to respond, so Hoseok kept talking.
“Where is this going?”
Yoongi had never thought about that. He liked where they were. It didn’t really matter to him where they were going. He wasn’t aware they needed to go somewhere. As far as Min Yoongi was concerned, he could have spent the rest of his life making out with Jung Hoseok and working at Big Won and been perfectly happy.
Well. Happy enough. Adequately pleased. It wouldn’t have been Hoseok’s fault if he was unhappy, at the very least. Yoongi didn’t think anyone could be unhappy when they were repeatedly given the opportunity to put their mouth on Hoseok’s mouth. But then Hoseok was asking the question and looking at Yoongi with wide, earnest eyes, and Yoongi had never thought he’d have to answer a question like that, so basically, he totally choked.
When he thought about it later, after Hoseok had turned and nearly run out of the stockroom, after he’d quit his job at the end of his shift, after it had been days, weeks, since Yoongi had seen him or talked to him, it was obvious that the answers he provided Hoseok had been outright lies. If only he’d realized that sooner.
I thought we were just keeping this casual, Hobi.
I’m not into relationships.
Can’t we just keep making out, or whatever? That’s really all I want.
It was all bullshit, if Yoongi was being honest. He felt like he’d spent the last four months, twelve days and approximately nine hours being more honest with himself than he had been in the entire year he spent making out with Hoseok in every corner of the Big Won. Shame it was well past too late.
*
He was pulled from his rapidly encroaching shame spiral by a low groan from Taehyung, who’d wandered over to the shelves of overstock candy and, in trying to dislodge one single bag, had somehow begun a goddamned candy avalanche. Yoongi watched in mild, detached horror as more and more bags fell, piling up at his feet, and Taehyung just stood there and let them.
At 8:42 AM, less than one hour after he met Kim Taehyung, Yoongi stomped into Seokjin’s office and tried to fire him for the first time that day.
The second time, it still wasn’t even noon, but it was getting closer, and Yoongi had just spent the last hour helping Taehyung clean up his mess (AKA watching Taehyung clean up his mess while Yoongi “trained” him in a voice that was barely trying not to sound bored, in between checking Twitter on his phone). Taehyung was high up on a ladder now, pulling down boxes of decorations and tossing them to Yoongi on the ground, so he could add them to the pile he was making on their shared cart. He watched as Taehyung sliced open another box to check that the contents were, in fact, Halloween related.
He saw a few stray pieces of glitter shake loose from the box. He was already itchy.
Taehyung didn’t bother to tape the box back up, or even shut it properly. He balanced it in one palm, hanging off the ladder, and Yoongi wanted nothing to do with this, suddenly, nothing at all. He shoved the cart in front of him, darting out of the way. This was not going to end well.
He was proven right about four seconds later, when the box slipped from Taehyung’s hand and began its slow, painful descent.
Yoongi was aware of several facts.
Number one, Taehyung didn't know Yoongi was highly, possibly fatally allergic to craft glitter. He didn’t know that, because he was new, and also because Yoongi found the whole situation humiliating and terribly inconvenient, given where he worked and what he did here.
Number two, Taehyung’s terrified face was absolutely priceless. Yoongi wished he had the time to pull out his phone again and take a picture before the box finished falling. Before he inevitably ended up murdering his new charge. Maybe he would do both of those things, most likely after being transported to the hospital in some sort of anaphylactic shock. If he was going down, he was taking the kid with him.
Those facts existed, and the box was tumbling and turning in half time, raining a baptism of garish, sparkling death down on Yoongi’s innocent, innocent head, and even though everything had slowed down, the only thing Yoongi had time to do before he was glitter bombed in the face was groan out a long, beleaguered fffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.
After that, he was down for the count.
It took fifteen minutes after Jimin arrived with Benadryl for Yoongi’s throat to un-swell enough for him to talk. Another twenty after that, filled with many many hand washings and Jimin trying to stick his entire head under the bathroom faucet, before the hives went away. He was fairly sure his eyes were still bloodshot red when he dripped angrily back into Seokjin’s office, soaked from head to toe from Jimin’s attempts to submerge him in the sink (he wasn't small enough to fit, actually, so fuck you very much, Park Jimin), to demand for the second time that day that Kim Taehyung be fired not only from Big Won, but also from life.
Seokjin was sympathetic. But, it was the holidays. They needed the help.
He did give Yoongi the rest of the day off, though.
*
Two weeks later, when Namjoon approached Yoongi during one afternoon shift with all the grace of a bewildered moose and said, “I think we should have a Halloween party”, Yoongi was mildly disgruntled, to say the least.
“Did somebody say Halloween party?” came Taehyung’s deep voice, from his register next to Jimin's. It had been two weeks, and Taehyung still worked here, a fact that continued to eternally mystify and enrage Yoongi. In small victories, however, Seokjin had decided not long after The Glitter Incident that Taehyung’s particular skill set might be better suited to ringing up customers, rather than making Yoongi’s life miserable out on the floor.
“I like Halloween!” the part-time kid who'd been helping Yoongi finish the Halloween aisle interjected peppily, and Yoongi turned to fix him with a look of disdain.
“Listen, Junpyo…”
“Junhong,” he was corrected immediately and breezily, a wide smile still on the giant kid's face.
“Right. Junpyo. Listen…”
Taehyung all but ran over in his haste to be a part of the conversation, Jimin following behind him, slower. Namjoon was grinning like a loon, Seokjin was next to him, and Yoongi was in the middle of mentally plotting an art installation starring himself as the poster child of Over It in the Workplace, when Jungkook hopped over the deli counter, jogging over and completing their little circle of idiots.
“A Halloween party? Like...actually on Halloween?” he asked curiously, and Namjoon was nodding enthusiastically, and Yoongi officially couldn’t take it anymore.
“Listen, Junpyo,” he said again, desperately, because he needed to complete his previous train of thought, even though he should have been answering Jungkook. Junhong was ignoring them now anyway, the only one still doing his job.
“Halloween is the worst. All holidays are the worst. Haven’t you guys learned anything from working retail all these years?” Yoongi sputtered, because he could not have this, of all things.
Hoseok loved Halloween. Yoongi hated Halloween, now mostly because it reminded him of Hoseok. These were indisputable facts.
Taehyung shrugged. “I’ve only been working in retail for two weeks,” he pointed out, and Yoongi wheeled around on him before he could stop himself. Fortunately, Seokjin was fluent in the moods of Min Yoongi, and he held out a palm immediately, pressing it to Yoongi’s chest and preventing whatever he was eventually, definitely going to do to the kid, at least for the time being.
Seokjin took a deep, calming breath, the kind Yoongi imagined he spent at least half his shifts indulging in, before he spoke.
“I think it’s a good idea. A Halloween party, here in the store after we close. It’ll build team spirit. It’ll be fun. Remember when holidays used to be fun, Yoongi?” Seokjin questioned levelly. Yoongi liked Seokjin a lot, when they weren't on the clock together, and he was pretty sure a Halloween party, after hours, in the store, would still feel like they were on the clock together.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun!” Namjoon echoed happily. “We can have music, and food, and drinks--” (“Non-alcoholic drinks,” Seokjin interjected, and there went the last remaining hope Yoongi might have had of enjoying this shindig that he was almost certainly not attending) “--and it’ll be great! I have lots of ideas for activities,” Namjoon finished, ignoring the fact that Yoongi was suddenly trying to set him on fire with his eyes.
Jimin rocked back on his heels, smiling beatifically at Seokjin. “We can even dance, right, boss?” he confirmed, and Yoongi got the feeling that they’d all gotten together in a little committee and discussed this prior to laying the idea on him, and furthermore, that they had discussed, in great detail, how best to Bother Yoongi That Day.
Spoiler alert: it was working.
Jungkook swallowed so loud that everyone heard it, and they all turned to fix their eyes on the tall, hulking kid. He was staring at the ceiling, at the wall, at anything else but his fellow employees, when he stammered out his next words quickly.
“I can’t. I, uh...I have a...function...that night...it’s like...a thing...an important thing I super have to do…”
Seokjin frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Trick-or-treating is not a function, Jungkook, not at your age. Come to the party. We’ll have candy. I’ll buy the big bags, okay?”
Taehyung’s eyes widened, at this. “The big big bags??” he breathed, awed. Yoongi sighed.
“Yeah, dingus. The big big bags. The ones you made a mountain out of your first day, right before you glitterbanged me in the throat.”
Jimin snorted. Namjoon cleared his throat awkwardly. Taehyung stared. And Jungkook was still looking at the ceiling.
Seokjin sighed at length. “Yoongi. Perhaps you could go with phrases which are slightly less...potentially pornographic, in the future. Yes?”
Yoongi gave up. “Yes.” he muttered, looking at the floor with great concentration. Then, right there in between the cracks in the worn linoleum, his brain found a glimmer of hope. He looked back up, and Jungkook was already looking at him, eyes wide, and yes, good, this could work, Yoongi thought to himself, just before he raised a finger in Jungkook’s direction.
“Jungkook’s got a thing that night,” Yoongi said, almost accusing in his tone. No one replied, so he forged ahead.
“Jungkook’s got a thing that night. Jungkook’s not going. If Jungkook doesn't have to go, neither do I. You all can spoopy it up without us.”
Seokjin actually stomped his foot, like the overgrown twenty-four year old manchild he was. Yoongi successfully stifled a snicker. Too soon. It wouldn’t help his cause.
“NO. Look. You’re both going. We’re having a work gathering, a Halloween work gathering, and everyone is going, because we’re all losers who don’t have any actual plans on Halloween night, so we’re gonna have this party and it’s gonna be the happiest fucking Halloween since Jack Skellington learned the true meaning of Christmas, dammit!” Seokjin was nearly shrieking by the time he cut himself off. Yoongi was mostly in shock that he’d actually used a swear word. More than one swear word. He meant business. But, he couldn't let this one go without a fight, or at least a bit more snark.
“Dude, that doesn’t even make sense. Jack Skellington…” Yoongi started, but then Namjoon shot him a look full of shut up, and for some reason, he did, because Namjoon was obnoxiously intimidating, when he wasn't being a huge, embarrassing dad-type.
Across the circle, Jungkook looked like Seokjin had just punched his mother in the face when he muttered, “Fine. I’ll go. I’m in.” Seokjin stared into Yoongi’s soul victoriously.
Yoongi made sure Jungkook comprehended the glare that conveyed the full extent of his current frustration before he rolled his eyes and resigned himself to his Halloween fate. “Yeah. Whatever. Me too. See you at the party.” He tossed the words over his shoulder as he turned to leave, fully intending not to speak another word to any of these traitors until said party, and only after he’d had at least several to ten cups full of the punch he would totally be spiking, because the hell with Seokjin.
He was a few steps away when Namjoon called after him.
“Great! That’s great, Yoongi! You won’t regret it! It’s gonna be awesome! Oh! By the way, the theme is ‘mask-er-ade’, get it, masquerade, so don’t forget to wear a mask of your choosing and no you can’t just stick a bunch of post-its to your face that say ‘This is my costume’ so don’t even try it okay bye!!”
Yoongi frowned as he kept walking. That was just taking what little fun remained out of the whole thing.
*
Another two weeks later, Taehyung still worked at the Big Won, Halloween was still Yoongi’s least favorite day of the year, and somehow, despite his best efforts over the preceding days, they were still having this party.
Yoongi was off that day. He never worked Halloween. Seokjin probably knew better than to schedule him, although they’d never actually discussed it face-to-face.
He spent the day at home, doing nothing at all. His favorite thing to do, really. He slept in until noon, listened to music, ate shitty, cold noodles, and generally had a great time. A great day off.
Except.
The clock kept inching closer and closer to ten at night, when Big Won closed, and Yoongi watched it go with equal amounts of annoyance and acceptance. He knew he’d been grouchier than usual, this year. He knew he’d kind of been an extra large douche canoe, some days. But, it was his first Halloween in the last few years without Hoseok. He’d earned his surliness.
Not that anyone else knew exactly how much that meant. How much Hoseok had meant to him, because even he hadn’t known it until Hoseok was gone.
When Hoseok was gone, and Yoongi surfaced from his haze of lust and hormones, many, many facts became stunningly clear to him.
The first, and most important, and the one that made him the saddest, was that Hoseok was gone because of Yoongi. Because of what he’d said, and the way he’d acted. The way he’d never taken what they were doing seriously, because he’d never known he was allowed to. He’d just assumed he didn’t deserve to do anything more than play tonsil hockey with Hoseok and left it at that. He’d never even entertained the idea that Hoseok had real, honest-to-goodness feelings for him, and so, he’d never realized that he had real, honest-to-goodness feelings for Hoseok, either.
The second was that since Hoseok left, everything was dimmer. Hoseok was sunshine, even if he wasn’t quite as bright in private as he led everyone to believe he was, when he was surrounded by people. Even his soft smiles were the sun, to Yoongi. He hadn’t understood that until Hoseok left him in the dark.
Hoseok had made every holiday special, not just for Yoongi, but for everyone. He was always the one to organize Secret Santa, and plan potlucks, and he somehow had the ability to remember every single employee’s birthday, even if he’d only been told the information once. Seokjin never had to assign party planning to anyone, because Hoseok was already doing it without being asked, nine times out of ten. He was genuinely caring, and Yoongi was genuinely grumpy, and he’d never really thought about why Hoseok even liked him until it was too late.
When it was too late, he started to remember things. Conversations they’d had, in between kisses, words traded between their tongues. Things he’d ignored at the time, because they’d gotten in the way of making out, and because Yoongi was epically, empirically terrible at expressing his feelings.
He remembered Valentine’s Day, earlier that year. He remembered how Hoseok left a rose in Yoongi’s locker for him to find when his shift ended, along with a note: Meet me on the roof. Hoseok hadn’t worked that day. He was there just for Yoongi. And Yoongi, being the dumbass he most certainly had been for a very long while at that point, had figured it was just because he wanted a change in the backdrop of their facesucking sessions.
He remembered Hoseok’s expression when he opened the door to the roof, the way he looked happy and scared, and the way his eyes had lit up when he saw Yoongi. He remembered that there were eleven steps separating him and Hoseok, and how fast he took them. He remembered kissing, a lot of kissing, and hands everywhere, and then Hoseok pulled away and started to say something and Yoongi had said we don’t have to talk, like he was the lead in some romance novel, except when he said it, it was because he didn’t want to hear what Hoseok had to say, because he didn’t know how to handle it.
Hoseok had hidden his frustration well, and they’d gotten on with their usual routine. It took Yoongi until the minute Hoseok quit to understand what had really happened that night.
Between Valentine’s Day and the Day Everything Went Wrong, Hoseok never brought up his feelings again, and it was Yoongi’s fault.
Yoongi had spent all day rehashing it in his mind, because if he had a favorite pastime, it was definitely over-analyzing whatever was available at the time, and this Thing with Hoseok was always available. By the time he had to get ready for the party, he was good and miserable all over again.
He hadn’t even thought about what kind of mask he should wear, hadn’t bought anything to make one at home. Namjoon had said he couldn’t use post-its, because he knew that sounded exactly like something Yoongi would do, so he was at a loss. Yoongi wandered around his apartment slowly, letting his eyes run over all his stuff, trying to think of something good. Something cool. It was possible to still be cool while attending a work party and wearing a mask, right?
Right.
When he had made a full circle around his small dwelling, and arrived back in the living room, his eyes brushed over the crowded bookshelves, and then, he saw it.
*
“A Kumamon mask?? God, Hobi, you didn’t have to do that.” Yoongi stared at it in amazement. He’d seen these online. They weren’t cheap, actually made of nice, sturdy material and suited to long wear times. They were also almost always sold out.
“I know. But, happy birthday, Yoongi.” Hoseok smiled, leaning against the pallets in the stockroom with his arms crossed as he watched Yoongi fold the gift bag between his palms over and over, the mask in his lap.
“This is...this is so cool. Thank you,” Yoongi said, because he didn’t know what else to say. He’d never given Hoseok a birthday present. He wasn’t even entirely sure when Hoseok’s birthday was. It was in January, he thought. Definitely. December, maybe? April. A month. It was absolutely in one of the twelve months of the year.
Hoseok was still smiling when he closed the foot or so of distance between he and Yoongi, and Yoongi thought he might be about to kiss him, so he tilted his head up and waited.
Hoseok had just hugged him tight.
*
Everyone knew Yoongi had an irrational, slightly strange love for Kumamon. But, he was reasonably sure no one would know that Hoseok gave him the mask, and it was a mask, and the theme of the party was, ostensibly, mask-er-ade, and it was the only mask he owned, and it was going to have to do.
He briefly considered walking the ten blocks between his apartment and the store already wearing the mask, but decided against it. Halloween wasn’t going to get any extra love from him, damn it. Yoongi shoved the mask in his back pocket, pulled his hoodie on, and then he was out the door. He had every intention of returning within two hours, at the very most. They could take his dignity and part of his evening, but they wouldn't take his late night baths away, so help him.
It was ten-thirty by the time he reached the nearly deserted Big Won parking lot, only a few cars still dotting the yellow outlines of the spaces. The lights were already off outside and just inside the store, but when Yoongi peered into the glass doors, he could see a faint, warm glow filtering out from near electronics, and he groaned. This was actually happening. This party was really a thing that was going to occur. Was already occurring. Whatever.
Seokjin had told him to use the back entrance, that they’d leave it unlocked while people arrived, but Yoongi was feeling defiant, and he dug his set of store keys out of his pocket and went in the front door instead. He wasn't sure why it gave him such immense satisfaction. He decided not to contemplate how his life had come to this point, that he was getting his jollies from breaking the smallest of any of the rules Seokjin set down for this whole event. Whatever.
Yoongi locked the door behind him, switching the keys in his hand for the mask in his pocket, and he pulled it on. He’d never worn it before tonight, and he was pretty sure it should smell like plastic and latex, but somehow, it still smelled like the cologne Hoseok used to wear. At least, he thought it was cologne. It could have just been that Hoseok naturally smelled like sex and candy, but that was the last thought Yoongi needed to have right now. He brushed it aside, heaved a world-weary sigh, and began to weave his way through the aisles.
He passed several people on his way, all in masks. Seokjin ended up inviting every single employee to the party, via a giant poster that Namjoon helped him make on the ancient computer at his desk. The first time he saw it, hanging on the inside of the office door, Yoongi had guffawed loudly enough for the sound to echo off the walls, taken a picture with his phone, and promptly forgot it existed until just then.
BIG WON IS HAVING A HALLOWEEN PARTY!! it had said, the words in large bubble letters, black against the neon orange background of the poster. Just below it, surrounded by poor drawings of ghosts and pumpkins probably courtesy of Namjoon's questionable “art” skills, more words completed the secondhand embarrassment Yoongi felt for Seokjin nearly constantly: ...AND THERE AIN’T NO PARTY LIKE A BIG WON PARTY, BECAUSE A BIG WON PARTY IS MANDATORY.
Seokjin really needed to get out more, Yoongi thought to himself. Maybe even go on a date sometime. Attend a party not in this store. That sort of thing.
Yoongi was barely looking at the people around him as he made his way toward electronics. He could hear music thumping now, and he smelled the telltale scent of a smoke machine, wafting into his nostrils even through the mask. Namjoon had really gone all out, decorating for this. He wondered, not for the first time, how someone as clumsy as Namjoon was as skilled at lighting and staging as he seemed to be. He’d only electrocuted himself a handful of times, on the job. He’d been on a pretty good streak lately. No incidents for ninety-seven days. Yoongi made a mental note to give him shit about it at his next opportunity.
He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to see when he rounded the last corner before electronics, but whatever Yoongi’s mind had come up with, it paled in comparison to what turned out to be the reality of the situation.
There was indeed a smoke machine. There were three smoke machines, actually, which was two and a half too many for the small department the party was being held in. That smoke hit Yoongi like a brick wall as he approached, and he was coughing inside his mask, desperately trying to breathe out through his nose, when he ran straight into Namjoon.
A Ryan mask. Yoongi had expected nothing less.
“Yoongi!” Namjoon crowed excitedly, throwing an awkward arm around him. Yoongi didn’t resist. He was too busy blinking over and over, trying to make his eyes stop watering enough to clearly see each and every exit available to him, because the knowledge was incredibly necessary. He was unsurprised that Namjoon had known it was him. The Kumamon idea hadn’t exactly been a stealthy one.
Namjoon was still half-holding Yoongi, that arm locked in place with an overabundance of strength for such a gangly person, when Yoongi realized that he’d forgotten the actual spiking element that he was going to contribute to the spiking of the punch, and raise his overall enjoyment of whatever was about to happen to him to something approaching a normal level. The flask he’d planned to bring was probably still sitting on his kitchen table at home. Yoongi sighed, shrugging Namjoon off of him and stalking over to the food table anyway. At least there was candy. Maybe a sugar rush would be a close second to a good buzz.
Taehyung was leaning against the table casually, Dracula mask in place, and Yoongi only knew it was Taehyung because he was so very tall. He was inhaling slice after slice of pizza, in almost a never-ending chain of abject gluttony, and observing the party. So far, it seemed to consist of trap music, Jimin (in a truly terrifying Dumbledore mask that he kept pushing off his face and leaving perched on top of his head like a strange, off-putting hat) dancing solo to said trap music, and the rest of the guests in attendance watching with varying levels of bemusement and appreciation. Jimin was a good dancer, Yoongi had to admit, at least to himself. There would be absolutely no admitting it out loud. Not tonight. Not when his late night bath was at stake.
Yoongi rolled his eyes and leaned over the punch bowl, ladling a serving into the nearest empty cup sloppily, and he was about to take his first swig when Taehyung’s voice rose just above the din.
“I’d be careful with that. I heard somebody dumped half a bottle of soju into it,” he drawled softly, and as Yoongi’s jaw dropped, Taehyung, his new personal lord and savior, just winked at him and wandered off to where Dumble-min was whipping his way across the makeshift dance floor.
Yoongi sipped more hesitantly than he’d originally intended. Taehyung hadn’t been joking. The shit was strong. Yoongi supposed, however begrudgingly, that there was still a chance for the kid, in his book.
He stayed put for a while, figuring that next to the spiked punch bowl was as good a place as any to spend his allotted two hour time frame at this ridiculous gathering. From where he was standing, Yoongi could see Seokjin, in a Mario mask, drinking a bottle of water and talking to Namjoon, Jungkook sulking in the corner, wearing a seriously creepy, realistic werewolf mask, and he was in the middle of trying to figure out who all the other people were, and whether or not he knew them, when a familiar voice spoke up from next to him.
“I once had a friend who liked Kumamon a lot.”
Yoongi knew the voice. He knew it right away. There had been no forgetting it, not even the many, many nights he’d wanted to. He’d never been able to forget the gravelly way it whispered into his ear, the way it was smooth as silk when it wanted to be. He knew the voice, and he knew who it belonged to, but his brain refused to accept it. Hoseok wasn’t here. Hoseok had no reason to be here. Hoseok didn’t work here anymore. Hadn’t in months. Of all the things Yoongi had thought would happen tonight, this was the least likely of them all. This wasn’t even on the list. So naturally, this was the one he was being confronted with, and his brain was rapidly bailing the fuck out.
He tried to grasp onto any of the one thousand responses zooming through his mind. He failed. He looked up instead.
A Bearbrick mask. Of course it would be a Bearbrick mask.
Hoseok never went inside Yoongi’s apartment, the nights he dropped him off after work, and Yoongi had been to Hoseok’s house exactly one time, in the year they spent making out in every corner of the Big Won. Not for Hoseok’s lack of inviting him, which he did every chance he got, but because it was just too much for Yoongi. Too intimate, too close. Too much. Yoongi was seriously such a dumbass sometimes.
In Hoseok’s bedroom, a room that smelled like him and looked like him and was a condensed version of him, there were shelves along one entire wall, all filled with Bearbrick. Bearbrick figurines, clothes, stationery, plushes, anything Bearbrick’s stoic visage could possibly be on, Hoseok had it.
They were supposed to be making out, that afternoon, but instead, Yoongi had caught a bad case of the feels all of a sudden and told Hoseok, in rushed syllables and phrases, about how much he loved Kumamon, and then he’d left as quickly as possible and things had been awkward for the next two days at work.
So yeah. Bearbrick. That made sense.
Yoongi was staring into his cup of soju punch again, trying to think of something to say, some way to reply that wouldn’t open up all the old wounds, uncover all the old bullshit. With the next couple of words out of his mouth, it was safe to say he completely failed.
“A ‘friend’, huh.”
He was suddenly grateful for the mask. Hoseok couldn’t see him cringing. He didn’t want to say that. He wished he hadn’t said that. Now Yoongi had no idea what was going to happen next, and usually that was exactly how he liked things, except not with Hoseok. Not anymore. He focused on Hoseok’s hands, with their lithe, delicate fingers, wrapped around the edge of the table.
Hoseok chuckled. “I think we were friends, at the very least. I think we were more, sometimes.”
Five months of silence had made Hoseok bold, it seemed. He wasn’t going to avoid this. He wasn’t going to let Yoongi avoid it, and Yoongi supposed he deserved that. It was just really too bad that it had to happen tonight, of all nights.
“Do you still hate Halloween?” Hoseok asked next, and his voice had turned gentler. Yoongi swallowed down whatever unwelcome lump was suddenly in his throat.
“Yeah,” he muttered, clutching his cup tighter. “Do you still love it?”
Another low laugh. “Yeah.”
Even before working retail had ruined whatever holiday spirit Yoongi had left in him, he’d never been a fan of Halloween. Theoretically, he knew it should be right up his sulky, unsmiling persona’s alley. But, the thing was, he wasn’t actually sulky, or unsmiling. He smiled a lot. It just took the right circumstances. The right person. Hoseok, who smiled all the time, who was actual, blindingly bright sunshine, loved Halloween and all things spooky. Yoongi, The Sullen, couldn’t even sit through an entire horror movie without getting too fidgety and nervous to focus, and definitely, definitely couldn’t handle being in the dark by himself for longer than about fifteen seconds.
But, nobody here knew that. Nobody except for Hoseok.
He’d found out one night after the store closed and they were the only two left, watching a movie together in the big armchairs in front of the big screen TVs in the big, empty store. First, Hoseok had insisted on leaving the lights off, that the illumination the TV provided would be enough. Yoongi decided not to argue that point, although he steadfastly disagreed.
Second, Min Yoongi did not do creepy movies, and this movie fell square into that category. He didn’t tell Hoseok that, either, but he was pretty sure it was obvious, by the way he all but vaulted over the arm of his chair and into Hoseok’s lap at the first jumpscare.
Hoseok had laughed, and cooed for exactly four seconds until Yoongi threatened his life, and then he’d made Hoseok swear never to tell a soul. Hoseok kept his word, and a year later, here they were, and he still remembered, even after everything that happened, and Yoongi had absolutely no idea what to do with that, so he poured himself another cup of punch and kept watching Namjoon and Seokjin embarrass themselves on the dance floor with Jimin and Taehyung.
Jungkook was still hanging around the perimeter of the party, not talking to anyone, glancing at the clock at what seemed to be a rate of once every forty-five seconds or so. Yoongi was less eager to leave now, somehow, but he still understood that mentality. He understood Jungkook, generally. They got along, if only because they enjoyed saying nothing at all to each other while occupying the same spaces for extended periods of time. Sometimes, Yoongi thought maybe he should invite Jungkook over, so they could silently occupy the same space for an extended period of time, except not on the clock. He just hadn't gotten around to it yet.
Yoongi watched as Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. He might have been even worse at people in public than Yoongi was, and that would be an accomplishment.
Hoseok was still next to Yoongi, so he decided to try again. Try to do...anything. Something. He had to say something.
“So, uh...why are you here?” Yoongi asked, and the minute he did, he wondered if it was the right question.
Hoseok ducked his head enough to pull his mask off, rolling it up and pushing it into his back pocket. Yoongi tried not to be too terribly affected by the way he was still so handsome that it was obscene. His hair was lighter than Yoongi remembered, a sort of dark, dusty orange color. Yoongi liked it.
Hoseok didn’t answer, he just looked at Yoongi, and Yoongi looked at him through the eyeholes of Kumamon, and then he finally got the message, and took his mask off too. He ignored Seokjin’s outcry of “MASQUERADE. MASK-ER-ADE, DAMMIT. PUT IT BACK ON” and shoved it into the large pouch of his hoodie. Running a hand through his hair, he turned to look at Hoseok, and Hoseok was already smiling.
“I like your hair dark. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it like this before,” he mused, eyes slipping over Yoongi with the practiced comfort Yoongi had almost forgotten used to exist between them.
It was true. In the time Hoseok and Yoongi had known each other, he’d had pink, then blonde, then mint green hair. He was experimental, okay? And also, it was one of the only things in his life that he had perfect control over, his head of hair, and he was going to do what he wanted with it.
Yoongi knew he was blushing. “You didn’t answer the question,” he muttered, avoiding Hoseok’s gaze.
Hoseok cleared his throat, turning to fish through the bowl of candy on the table behind them until he found a yellow Starburst. He was unwrapping it carefully when he finally replied.
“I was invited. By Seokjin.”
Yoongi knew Seokjin probably hadn’t meant to ruin his night by inviting Hoseok and then insisting that Yoongi come to this party, that everyone at Big Won had almost no clue why Hoseok had actually quit. That hardly anyone had even known the two of them were involved. That didn’t stop him from seething with rage for exactly twenty-one fleeting seconds before he calmed down again. Yoongi’s temper came in short, swift waves, always.
“He was worried that nobody would come.”
Yoongi was back to feeling affectionate towards and slightly sorry for Seokjin. He stared out over the thirty or so bodies occupying the electronics department, sipping his drink. He was finally starting to feel a buzz. Bless Kim Taehyung.
“Well, I don’t think he has to worry anymore. I don’t even know who some of these people are,” Yoongi admitted, wrinkling his nose. Hoseok laughed a little. Yoongi felt dizzy. He drank more, and they fell into a not-quite-as-awkward silence, one that was punctuated every few minutes by a stray observation from Hoseok, or a wry remark from Yoongi. Before Yoongi realized what was happening, an hour had flown by. He was in the middle of trying to locate Jungkook on the fringes of the crowd, where he undoubtedly would be, wearing an expression Yoongi always recognized immediately as one of his own go-to’s, when Hoseok spoke up again.
“I miss you, y’know.”
Yoongi was positive he’d misheard Hoseok. He could have said anything else, anything in the world. That was the one thing that just didn’t make sense. He’d started to turn and look at the man next to him, started trying to formulate a response, when Namjoon’s voice came booming over the microphone.
Why he needed a microphone in such a small space was beyond Yoongi, but he’d given up a long time ago trying to solve the mystery that was Namjoon, and anyway, the microphone had saved him from having to answer Hoseok, and he was grateful. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand what Hoseok meant. There was no reason for Hoseok to miss him, not when Yoongi knew damn well how much he’d hurt him. It was just another thing he’d never allowed his brain to consider, and he was determined to keep doing so. He drained his cup and filled another, training his eyes on Namjoon impassively.
“Okay, everybody! Welcome to Big Won’s first ever Halloween party!” Namjoon paused for effect. He got some scattered applause, and a whistle from Jimin, which seemed to be enough to satisfy him.
“Awesome. Cool. We hope everyone is having a great time so far. I made a mix especially for this party, filled with all kinds of spooky Halloween songs, so get out there on the dance floor, guys! Jimin might give you a lesson if you ask real nice!” Yoongi glanced over at Jimin, who was on the edge of the makeshift floor, blushing beet red. He obviously hadn’t been warned in advance about his services as dance teacher being up for grabs, but Yoongi would bet that if he slipped Jimin a cup of Taehyung’s magically spiked punch, he’d loosen up enough to have the entire party performing a perfect approximation of the choreography for Thriller in under an hour.
It turned out that Namjoon’s idea of “spooky Halloween songs” mostly included Drake, and by the third time “Hotline Bling” began thumping out of the most expensive speakers they sold at Big Won, Yoongi was over it. Or, at least, he was over it, until Hoseok, who’d been next to him for the entire time they’d been here, leaned over and said into Yoongi’s ear over the din around them, “You wanna dance with me?”
Suddenly, “Hotline Bling” was Yoongi’s favorite song in the whole world.
He let Hoseok lead him by the hand, across the few feet that separated them from the dance floor. Nearly everyone had lost their masks by now, and Yoongi recognized more people, more coworkers and former coworkers and friends of coworkers that he knew casually, mostly. When Hoseok pulled Yoongi around to stand in front of him, he realized that he hadn’t actually taken a good look at him, one that lasted longer than a split-second, until right then.
When he did, and Hoseok smiled at him, a little shyly, Yoongi’s memories came flooding back so hard, so immediate, that it nearly knocked him off his feet. He wobbled a little, and Hoseok’s arm went around his waist quickly, steadying him. Hoseok leaned in again, chuckling. “You handling that punch all right?” he murmured, and Yoongi couldn’t even pretend that he was shivering because it was cold. In fact, he was burning up.
“Yeah,” he said after a while, when he couldn’t think of anything better to say, and then they started to dance.
They danced through song after song, until Yoongi forgot what time it was, that he had a bath to get home to, that he had anywhere else to be except right here, with Hoseok. With every song, the distance that had lived between them closed, emotionally and physically, and they were on the verge of slow dancing to “Monster Mash”, when the music cut off suddenly, and Yoongi heard Namjoon’s voice again. Namjoon was always interrupting Yoongi’s often short-lived bliss.
“Guys, it’s almost midnight! If anyone’s got a scary story to tell, we’re gathering a group in the corner. Come join us!”
Yoongi was really not comfortable with Namjoon’s obscenely high level of nerdthusiasm for this whole ordeal.
He rolled his eyes, looking around for Jungkook again, just because. Because if the kid was still standing alone, like Yoongi would have been if it weren't for Hoseok, he would invite him over to hang out with them. A little socialization would do him good, maybe. Probably. Yoongi stopped himself before his thought process got even more ridiculous. He'd just had too much punch, that was all. And yet somehow, not enough.
There was still no sign of Jungkook. He’d probably slipped out and gone home, Yoongi realized. Smart.
He took a few steps out of electronics to peer out the windows of the store. The full moon illuminated the parking lot even without the help of the streetlights. No Jungkook there either. Yoongi shrugged, and followed Hoseok to a corner just enough removed from Namjoon’s little Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark circle to have their own conversation.
Just as they settled down on the floor, their cups refilled, a loud thump sounded from somewhere in the store. Then another. Another, and another. Yoongi glanced around to see if anyone else was hearing it, if maybe he was just going crazy. No one else even reacted. The music had come back on, a little quieter, and Jimin and Taehyung were still dancing. He looked to the other corner of the room, where all the remaining guests were rapt with attention at whatever story Namjoon was telling. He could be very convincing and effective when he wanted to be, Yoongi knew. If he was the type to enjoy scary stories, to enjoy Halloween at all, he’d have been listening too. But, alas.
Okay, he definitely heard a howl, that time. That was definitely a howl. Coming from somewhere.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow at Hoseok, asking the silent question. Hoseok nodded, then shrugged. Well. If Hoseok wasn’t worried about it, he wouldn’t worry about it either. He was at least seventy-two percent positive Hoseok would fight a creepy monster for him, or would have, before. Maybe even three or four creepy monsters.
He was very positive he was at least mildly drunk.
“So,” Hoseok started after a while, one palm resting on his knee and his cup in the other hand. “How’ve you been, Yoongi?” he asked, taking a drink.
Yoongi stuttered out a short laugh, meant to give him a moment to think, ignored the next two thumps he absolutely, one hundred percent heard coming from parts unknown within the Big Won, and decided to answer the question honestly.
*
For the first time they’d actually talked in nearly half a year, the conversation with Hoseok didn’t go nearly as poorly as Yoongi had thought it would.
They covered topics at a dizzyingly quick speed. They covered how Yoongi had been (shitty), how Hoseok had been (shitty, and then okay, kind of), what Hoseok was doing now (bartending, and he liked it a lot), and then they got to what had happened between them.
Yoongi was somewhat mollified to know that he wasn’t the only one hearing the noises, now. Namjoon had stopped his storytelling twice, walking to the edge of electronics and shining his phone flashlight into the dark, deserted store. No one else had been willing to go even that far with him. Twice he’d gotten up, and twice he’d found nothing, shrugged, and gone back to the party. Yoongi was fairly certain that if they were all going to die, in some incredibly cliche horror movie fashion, on Halloween, of all the days, he would at least die knowing Hoseok didn’t hate him. That was good enough.
Hoseok had been looking at Yoongi for a while, just looking at him. Yoongi had thought about pretending he didn’t notice, but it was kind of impossible, because Hoseok was tipsy, now, and he was leaning back and forth, narrowing his eyes at Yoongi like he wanted to say something but he knew he shouldn’t, and Yoongi had no idea what to do about any of it. He should do something, probably. Anything. Finally, Hoseok broke the silence between them, the one that was veering off into bad-awkward again.
“Look, um, about that day...the last day…” he began, his face flushed and his eyes refusing to meet Yoongi’s suddenly. Yoongi sucked in a breath and held it. Waiting.
“I thought that...I thought maybe we could just...I don’t know, try to…maybe...” Hoseok trailed off, looking lost for the first time that night, and Yoongi was fully at a loss, himself. He had no idea how to make it right. Not now. Not anymore. It had been too long. Sorry wasn’t good enough anymore. Maybe it never was.
Yoongi wasn’t sure if it was a mercy interruption, done intentionally, but at that very moment, the one where he was torn between what to say and what he couldn’t say, Junpyo entered the party. What was the kid’s name, again? Junhong? Junpyo? It was definitely Junpyo. You couldn’t miss him, because he was still tall as shit, and he was surrounded by the rest of the part-timers, and he was yelling, that weird, wide smile on his face as per usual. For some reason, a reason Yoongi had neither the time nor the presence of mind to try and figure out, he began to make a beeline for the corner where Hoseok and Yoongi were sitting, his arms cradling a pile of what looked like party poppers.
Oh no.
Oh no.
*
The day that Hoseok had discovered Yoongi’s various Halloween-related fears, he’d told Yoongi something in return. “To make it fair,” Hoseok had said.
It turned out that Hoseok didn’t like loud, sudden noises. There wasn't a reason for it, he said. They just scared the shit out of him, made him shaky and weird and noncommunicative. Fireworks were right out. Sharp claps were a no-go. Action movies got an automatic dismissal.
Yoongi had found all of it terribly ironic, given the variety of random screeching sounds he’d heard come out of Hoseok’s mouth, just in casual conversation amongst their coworkers. But Hoseok had been so earnest, the corners of his smile pulled down into an adorable frown, and Yoongi had understood what he was trying to do, that he was trying to make Yoongi feel better about his own weirdness, and so he’d just nodded and changed the subject, smoothly moving on so that neither of them felt like the idiots they definitely were.
Past Yoongi had changed the subject, but Present Yoongi still hadn’t forgotten, and now Junpyo was standing not three feet away from them with an armful of Hoseok’s potential fears, and Yoongi didn’t think. He saw Junpyo pluck one off the pile, and hand one to each of his friends as they stationed themselves around the party, ready to set them off, and not one time did Yoongi pause to remember that party poppers typically included a whole fucking lot of glitter.
He didn’t remember that important fact, and so, he literally dove in front of Hoseok as the poppers went off all around them. Yoongi was desperate to somehow protect Hoseok from whatever evils the party poppers had in store for his ears, the ones that didn’t like loud noises, the ones that Yoongi had loved to kiss and nibble, once upon a time, and he was perhaps more surprised than he should have been when he got glitterbanged in the face, for the second time in just over a month.
Somewhere far away, behind the haze of the allergy attack that was already starting, from what little he could hear past the ringing in his ears, Yoongi heard the music come to a screeching halt. He stumbled back, his eyes leaking down his cheeks, and fought the urge to scratch at every single hive he could feel welling up on his arms and his face. Oh god. His face. It was going puffy, he could tell, with the few brain cells he had left. It was all happening so fast, and the noise of the party had dulled to a low rumble, and Yoongi used his last remaining thought to turn his head and make sure Hoseok was all right.
He ended up on the floor a second later, with his head in Hoseok’s lap after he caught Yoongi on his way down. Yoongi closed his aching eyes. There was a long, long pause, and the sound of many pairs of feet shuffling over to their little spectacle.
“Jimin, get the Benadryl.” Seokjin said firmly.
*
When Yoongi came back to himself, he had no idea how much time had passed. He vaguely remembered Hoseok holding him while Jimin force-fed him nearly an entire bottle of Benadryl, and Junpyo almost crying in the corner, because he thought he’d killed “his favorite coworker”. (Yoongi was shocked when he found that piece of information out. He’d been unaware he was anyone’s favorite anything, unless it was “favorite grumpy asshole”.) The first thing he saw when he could open his eyes again, when the swelling had gone down enough for him to see anything at all, was Hoseok’s face, hovering just above him. He was smiling, amused and sweet.
“You know,” Hoseok started, clearing his throat. “A simple ‘I’m sorry’ would have sufficed, but all in all, that was a pretty grand gesture, Min Yoongi.”
Yoongi was blushing before he finished sitting up all the way. Inexplicably, there was a towel draped over his head. Yoongi left it there. It felt nice, cool and soft. He blinked up at Hoseok from under his wet hair, because of course Jimin had tried to submerge him in the sink again, and smiled back as best he could.
“It wasn’t an on purpose gesture,” he muttered, knowing he should be more embarrassed at how Hoseok was making him act. Making him feel. He just couldn’t bring himself to care, at the moment. Yoongi looked around. They were alone in Seokjin’s small office, and Yoongi was grateful. He took a minute to gather himself, running the towel through his hair for good measure. When he was just about all the way collected, he looked up at Hoseok again.
“Can we just start over?” Yoongi asked, in no position to dance around his words or his heart anymore.
Another smile quirked at the edges of Hoseok’s mouth. “Like, this whole night?” he questioned, and Yoongi chuckled quietly.
“No. Like, all the way over. Before I was a total idiot and messed everything up,” he replied, and he was fairly sure his heart stopped beating entirely as he waited for a response. Thankfully, Hoseok didn’t make him wait long.
He pulled Yoongi forward by the towel that had been hanging around his neck, and then their lips met and Yoongi couldn’t help himself. He started to giggle, out of sheer delirium from the Benadryl and probably still a little from the punch, but mostly because he never thought he’d get to kiss Hoseok ever again, and it was even better now than it had been before. It was better than anything else.
Hoseok grinned into the kiss, and then he moved away a fraction of an inch. Enough for Yoongi to talk.
“Is that a yes?” he whispered, because he had to know for sure.
“Yeah,” Hoseok drawled against his lips, and then there wasn’t anything left to say, so they stopped talking.
*
Truthfully, Yoongi was starting to think that this was all some sort of dying fever dream, that the glitter had actually killed him, and vividly hallucinating that Hoseok had kissed him was his reward for surviving so many years in retail, before it literally killed him. He was positive that was what was happening, but hell, if he was going out, he was going to enjoy every last second he had. He kissed Hoseok for all he was worth, kissed him with every last bit of feeling he should have done it with before, over the entire year they spent making out in every corner of this Big Won.
He kissed him until the lights went out.
Yep. Definitely dead. There’s no white light, kids.
“The lights are out,” Hoseok mumbled against his lips, and Yoongi just hummed in agreement and kissed him more. Any second now, it would all be over, and he was not stopping until then.
“No, really, the lights went out, we should go see what happened,” Hoseok murmured, a little clearer, but Yoongi was stubborn. This was his last minute on earth, dammit.
Huh. That’s weird. Pretty sure there’s no demonic howling in heaven.
“What the fuck,” Hoseok said, and he pulled away from Yoongi for real, fishing his phone out of his pocket and turning on the flashlight. Yoongi frowned. He was beginning to accept that he wasn’t dead, probably not dying, that real life Hoseok had actually kissed him, and now real life Hoseok was no longer kissing him and wanted to leave this room where they were in their own little bubble, and that was just nineteen kinds of unacceptable, honestly.
Also, reality apparently now included 100% more animalistic snarling and destruction, judging by the terrible noises coming from deep within the store, and Yoongi really wasn’t here for that. But, it appeared that Hoseok was serious. He was standing up now, glancing down at Yoongi, lit by the abrasive glow of his flashlight, and reaching out a hand. “Can you stand?” he asked, concern still tingeing the edges of his voice.
Yoongi sighed. “Yeah,” he grumbled, but he took Hoseok’s hand anyway, because he liked how it felt in his.
They were almost to the door when it burst open suddenly, and Hoseok had been about to scream, he could tell, but Yoongi just squeezed his hand tighter, willing it to calm him, and it did. He tried not to smile too much as Namjoon shone his damn flashlight in Yoongi’s face. He was flanked by Seokjin and Jimin, and Taehyung and the rest of the partygoers stood just behind them. Everyone looked scared shitless.
“We’re uh...we’re gonna go find the noise. Just. Everybody be cool. It’s a normal day, guys. Normal day at Big Won,” Seokjin rambled, but he was talking mostly to himself, because everyone had left him behind in favor of following the banging racket across the store, towards the supply closet. The very same supply closet that had been nearly destroyed a month ago, Yoongi’s brain mentioned helpfully. Great. Awesome. He’d just escaped death by glitterbang, made out with Hoseok, and now he was going to get eaten by A Creature of Nonspecific Origin. Halloween truly was the worst. It giveth and then it taketh away.
Yoongi and Hoseok joined the search party, following behind everyone else. It was so, so dark, and Yoongi was deeply displeased by almost everything that had happened, even though a bigger part of him was so happy he wanted to do cartwheels through the empty aisles. He would indulge that part soon. Right after this debacle.
Namjoon and Seokjin made it to the door first, and for some reason, Namjoon actually tried to just...open it. Yoongi rolled his eyes. He hated horror movies, and went to great lengths to avoid them, but he still knew that doors, when between the heroes and the scary things, were never unlocked. It would have to be broken down. Yoongi glanced around the parts of the store he could see, looking for a brick or a bat or perhaps Junpyo, so he could just throw him at the door, maybe. He was a giant, after all. He could probably make a dent.
Yoongi found none of those things before Hoseok slipped away from next to him, moving to the front of the small crowd and picking the lock easily with a paperclip he found on the floor while Namjoon and Seokjin watched in mild dismay. Yoongi was...kind of turned on by it, really. But that was a thought for another time. The lock was picked and Namjoon was turning the knob and Seokjin was brandishing the tongs he’d used to prepare the party food with and whatever was behind the door was making an awful lot of ruckus and--
Namjoon let the door swing open, let it hit the wall with a quiet thud, and everyone leaned forward at once, peering into the small, dark room as Jimin directed his own phone flashlight into it. Yoongi pushed his way to the front with way less finesse than Hoseok had, but with enough force that people moved for him to get through and stand next to Hoseok again. He was looking at the ground when he got there. Then he made himself look up.
Jungkook was crouched on the floor, handcuffed to the leg of the old, out of use desk nailed to one corner of the supply closet. Well, it had been nailed down. Before. He was surrounded by fallen fur, piles and piles of it. And, Yoongi noticed somewhat belatedly, he was completely naked, shivering and squinting into the glare of the flashlights, seemingly in a daze. Someone was hopping up and down at the back, trying to see. The sound of their shoes hitting the ground over and over broke the heavy silence, and Yoongi heard Seokjin let out a relieved breath or twelve. He might have been hyperventilating slightly. Yoongi couldn’t be sure.
“Jungkook…” Seokjin started shakily, looking like he wanted to go into the room and rescue his youngest employee, but also like he wanted to go back to electronics and pour himself an extra large bucket of soju punch. When Seokjin waved his flashlight across the room, Yoongi could see cords frayed and torn apart, the ones that controlled the electrical mainframe of this whole place.
Namjoon stepped forward, hopping over pieces of broken wood until he got to the desk, the one that had been ripped off the wall and shattered in half. There was a piece of paper taped to one side of it, hanging off the corner. It was a little crumpled, but when Yoongi leaned forward, he could make out the words on it, and saw the small silver key dangling from the bottom.
please dont fire me im a werewolf
jungkookie
“What the fuck.” Hoseok said again.
*
Taehyung had an extra set of clothes in his truck. He kept them there, he told his coworkers with a slightly unhinged grin, because “you never know when you might have to jam”. Yoongi was torn between thinking that Taehyung was a complete moron, and also possibly a genius.
When Jungkook was dressed again, and more coherent, Namjoon, who was actually a tested genius, sat him down for questioning. Yoongi and Hoseok stood just outside Seokjin’s office, watching with the few Big Won employees who hadn’t bailed, fast, after the events of the last half hour.
Namjoon sighed. “Okay, Kook, let’s go over this again. You say you’re a werewolf.”
Jungkook crossed his arms petulantly. This was the fifth time Namjoon had asked the question, and even Yoongi was tired of hearing it. “Yeah,” Jungkook replied anyway, because what else could he do?
“And you…” Namjoon glanced down at the notes he’d taken on a blank sheet of paper. “‘Changed because it was midnight and a full moon.’”
“Yeah.”
Namjoon sighed, shaking his head. “But, that doesn’t make sense. How did you ‘change’ back so quickly? Aren’t these sorts of cycles supposed to last all night?” Namjoon looked like he wanted to eat his own face for actually vocalizing these absurd questions out loud. Yoongi was in absolute heaven just watching him squirm. He didn’t really care if Jungkook was a werewolf or a vampire or even the Kraken. He just wanted to get back to kissing Hoseok and dating Hoseok and being a great boyfriend to Hoseok. He’d had some time since the Great Benadryl-ing to make a plan. That was what he’d come up with. It was good. Good plan.
Across Seokjin’s desk from Namjoon, Jungkook rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, making Namjoon lean forward to try and make out the words. “Pardon?” he asked finally, looking like he was so done with tonight.
Jungkook sighed wearily. “I said, I’m a baby. I’m a baby werewolf, okay? This is only my second month turning and my body doesn’t like it and it’s only lasted a few minutes both times so far and it sucks, all right? I don’t know, dude. Just, please don’t fire me. I wanna save up for a motorcycle.”
Yoongi was keenly aware that if he rolled his eyes with any more frequency, they would probably eject from his skull due to overuse.
“I’m not going to fire you,” Seokjin slurred delicately from his chair nearby, where he was on his fourth cup of punch since they’d found Jungkook. “I’m just...I’m glad you’re okay. We’ll call the electrician in the morning.” he finished, and Jungkook gave him a little bunny-toothed smile, and wow, when would Yoongi actually get to leave this place and continue making out with Hoseok?
“Wait. Last month.” Namjoon said, tapping his pen on the paper in front of him. “Last month. That was you?? The same supply closet?”
Jungkook frowned. “Why do you think I offered to repair it?”
Namjoon threw down the pen in his hand, getting up from his chair. “Sure. Cool. Look, kid, I’m glad you’re okay, too. But we gotta get a better plan for next month, all right? For now, let’s just go back to the party,” he said, most assuredly out of rational ideas as he glanced out the office door.
Over in electronics, Jimin and Taehyung were dancing again, because it seemed they could not be stopped. Yoongi could just about make out four or five empty packs of batteries on the floor near them, ones that Jimin had probably “borrowed” from the shelves and put into the array of portable speakers they were using now to dance in the dark, with only the light of the industrial flashlight Seokjin kept for emergencies to guide their feet.
Jungkook nodded, and let Namjoon and Seokjin lead him out of the room. None of them paused to look at Yoongi and Hoseok, still standing against the wall just outside the door.
They were barely a few steps away when Namjoon slipped on a piece of discarded confetti from one of the party poppers and wiped out on the floor, cradling his arm and almost wailing in undignified agony. Welp. Make that no incidents for zero days, once again, Yoongi thought to himself. He would definitely be giving Namjoon shit about that tomorrow, after he'd had time to process his personal shame.
When Seokjin had picked Namjoon up off the floor and they had continued on their way, Hoseok stepped closer to Yoongi, holding himself up with one palm flat against the wall next to Yoongi’s head. Yoongi did his level best not to show how it made him feel. How it made his heart race.
“So, uh…” Hoseok rumbled, his voice smooth and low, an easy smirk on his handsome face. “You wanna get out of here?”
Yoongi swallowed. “Do you want to come to my place tonight, Hobi?” he asked softly, before he could decide not to. The question, the one he’d never asked before, all the times he should have, hung in the air between them. Hoseok looked surprised, then pleased, then his eyes turned a bit darker with desire, all while Yoongi watched. And waited.
“Mmm,” Hoseok answered finally. “Yeah. I bet we can make you a fan of Halloween, yet,” he said with a smirk, leaning forward to kiss Yoongi just once, quickly, before he turned and began to walk away.
Once Yoongi caught his breath, he didn’t waste time. He caught up to Hoseok in five steps, slipping his hand into Hoseok’s back pocket, the one that wasn’t housing his Bearbrick mask, and Hoseok just smiled and laughed and pulled Yoongi closer as they let themselves out of the pitch black store and into the bright, brand new Halloween night.