The library was quiet that evening, the only sound the occasional rustle of pages as Yoongi sat by the window, lost in his thoughts. The memories of the day had stirred something in him—a longing for a time when life wasn’t so heavy, a time when Hoseok was still alive.

Yoongi had met Hoseok when they were in middle school. Unlike Yoongi, who carried the weight of his family’s expectations like a boulder on his back, Hoseok was a beacon of light—vibrant, carefree, and endlessly optimistic.

“Yoongi!” Hoseok’s voice had always been full of energy, his laughter echoing across the school courtyard as he waved. “Come on, I saved us a seat!”

At first, Yoongi hadn’t understood why Hoseok had gravitated toward him. He wasn’t particularly friendly, and he certainly didn’t invite conversation. But Hoseok didn’t seem to care. He’d plop down beside Yoongi at lunch, talk about the latest dance moves he was learning, or drag Yoongi to a secluded corner of the school to share music recommendations.

“You’re always so serious,” Hoseok had said one day, his expression mockingly stern as he mimicked Yoongi’s perpetual frown. “You need to loosen up, hyung.”

“I’m not serious,” Yoongi muttered, pushing his food around on his tray.

“Right,” Hoseok said, rolling his eyes. “You’re the king of fun. Remind me again how many times you’ve smiled this week?”

Yoongi had glared at him, but Hoseok just grinned, the kind of grin that made it impossible to stay annoyed.

They’d grown closer over the years, their friendship built on an unspoken understanding. Hoseok had a way of making Yoongi feel seen, even when he didn’t want to be. He never pried, never demanded more than Yoongi was willing to give. Instead, he offered companionship and unwavering support.

“Hyung, you’re a genius,” Hoseok had said one night, sprawled out on the floor of Yoongi’s room as Yoongi played a melody on the piano. “You could make a career out of this.”

“It’s just a hobby,” Yoongi replied, his fingers hesitating over the keys.

“No,” Hoseok said firmly, sitting up. “It’s more than that. You have something special, Yoongi. Don’t waste it.”

Yoongi hadn’t responded, but his chest had tightened at Hoseok’s words. No one had ever believed in him the way Hoseok did.

Their bond had grown stronger with time, but it wasn’t without its complications. Hoseok had a lightness about him, but there were moments when his smile faltered, when his laughter seemed forced. Yoongi had noticed, but he didn’t know how to ask.

One day, Hoseok had shown up at Yoongi’s house, his usual grin missing. His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold.

“Hey,” Yoongi said, stepping aside to let him in. “What’s wrong?”

Hoseok shook his head, avoiding Yoongi’s gaze. “Nothing. Just needed to get out of the house.”

Yoongi didn’t push. Instead, he led Hoseok to the library, where they sat in silence for a long time.

Eventually, Hoseok spoke. “Do you ever feel like you’re stuck? Like no matter what you do, you can’t get out?”

Yoongi’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Hoseok’s voice. “Yeah,” he admitted. “All the time.”

Hoseok nodded, his eyes distant. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi said softly.

The turning point came the night Hoseok met Yoongi’s father.

It had been an accident. Hoseok had come over unannounced, eager to share a new song he’d been working on. Yoongi had been caught off guard but let him in anyway, sneaking him into the small piano room at the back of the mansion.

"You're going to love this one," Hoseok said, pulling a sheet of handwritten notes from his backpack. His enthusiasm was contagious, and despite Yoongi's reluctance to break the rules, he found himself smiling as he sat down at the piano.

Hoseok leaned over his shoulder, humming the melody as Yoongi played, their combined energy filling the room with warmth.

"Yoongi!"

The sharp, booming voice of his father shattered the moment. Yoongi froze, his fingers hovering above the keys as the door to the room swung open.

"What is this?" his father demanded, his cold gaze flickering between Yoongi and Hoseok. "Who is this boy?"

Yoongi's throat tightened as he stood, instinctively stepping between Hoseok and his father. "He's a friend."

"A friend?" His father's voice was icy. "This is not a playground, Yoongi. You think this house is a place for you to waste time with… with this?"

Hoseok straightened, his usual cheerfulness replaced by quiet defiance. "Sir, it's my fault. I just wanted to show Yoongi something—"

"Silence," Yoongi's father snapped, cutting him off.

Yoongi clenched his fists at his sides, anger bubbling under the surface. "He's my guest. If you're angry, be angry at me."

His father’s gaze narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "You think this is about anger, Yoongi? This is about discipline. About understanding your place in this family."

Hoseok's hand lightly touched Yoongi's arm, a silent plea to let it go, but Yoongi shook him off.

"He's my friend," Yoongi said firmly, meeting his father's eyes. "And I'm not going to apologize for that."

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken threats. Finally, his father turned on his heel, his voice sharp as he left. "Get him out of my house. Now."

Hoseok looked at Yoongi, his expression unreadable. "Yoongi, I—"

"Don't," Yoongi muttered, his voice trembling. "Just go."

Hoseok had left that night, but their friendship didn’t falter. If anything, it grew stronger, though their meetings became more secretive. Hoseok never mentioned the incident again, but Yoongi could see the lingering tension in his eyes whenever they were near the mansion.

The day everything changed was cold and gray, the kind of day that seemed to sap the color from the world. Hoseok had called Yoongi, his voice hurried and urgent.

"Hyung, I need to talk to you. Can we meet at the park near your house?"

Yoongi had agreed, though something in Hoseok’s tone left him uneasy.

When he arrived, Hoseok was pacing near the swings, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

"What's going on?" Yoongi asked, frowning as he approached.

Hoseok looked up, his eyes filled with something Yoongi couldn’t quite place—fear, desperation, resolve.

"I—" Hoseok began, but before he could finish, a car pulled up at the edge of the park.

Yoongi’s stomach dropped as his father stepped out, his expression dark.

"What are you doing here?" his father demanded, his gaze fixed on Hoseok.

"Leave him alone," Yoongi said, stepping in front of Hoseok.

"Step aside, Yoongi," his father ordered, his voice dangerously calm.

"No," Yoongi said, his voice shaking but firm.

The confrontation escalated quickly, voices rising and words turning into threats. Yoongi didn’t understand everything that happened next—it was a blur of movement and sound—but the one thing he would never forget was the look in Hoseok’s eyes just before it all went silent.

The sound of it—a single, deafening crack—still haunted Yoongi’s dreams.

Back in the present, Yoongi’s hand trembled as he reached for his cup of tea, his breathing uneven. Hoseok’s laughter, his warmth, his friendship—it all felt so close and yet so far, slipping through Yoongi’s fingers like smoke.

He closed his eyes, his chest tightening as the memories played over and over again, a loop he couldn’t escape.

“I’m sorry, Hoseok,” Yoongi whispered into the empty room. “I’m so sorry.”

.....................................