Dancing with Your Ghost [on hold]

t h i r t y - f o u r

I'm ashamed so I've been thinking more
About how maybe all of this would make
A good excuse to call you, say
"I just need emotional support", mm
I just wanna hold you
It doesn't have to mean anything
I don't think that it cannot mean anything
But I still wanna hold you

4:30 In Toronto
- JP Saxe

»»————-　➴　————-««

"Hey, Ggukie."

Here in this dark, wretched alleyway next to dumpsters crawling with rats, Jeongguk watched the lines around him blur into the softest of sunbeams. The same soft luminance that he associated Hoseok with. He pinched apart those two words and found his usual tenderness, something he never counted on coming across again.

His throat was dry. "Hey, Hoseok. It's been a while," he replied, trying desperately to sound as neutral as possible.

"Yeah."

"You called me."

"Yeah."

He questioned if Hoseok's word count would exceed two. "Is everything okay?"

He could see him now— the brightest picture in his head. His endless pools of love and guidance, perfected with a heart-shaped smile.

A thousand possibilities raced through Jeongguk's head, none of them ever speculating the choked sob that broke through the phone.

"Hobi?" Jeongguk said alarmingly.

Another sob, this time muffled.

"What's wrong? Where are you? Are you— are you safe?"

"I'm safe," he answered, breathing in deeply, "I'm sorry. I know this was so out of the blue but— um, I'm coming back."

No you're not. Jeongguk gawked at the wall in front of him. "I'm sorry?"

"My momma got into a fight yesterday with an audience member. They pushed her off the balcony in the theatre and she broke her leg."

The boy's features twisted into justifiable mortification. "What? Which momma?"

"Momma Jun," Hoseok blabbered on, voice sharpening in pitch, "And— and momma Ho decided that that was the last straw and she said to me that we're leaving and we're moving back. Honestly, I thought it was just an excuse but" —he sighed— "Well, I guess I also used this as an excuse to call you for... you know..."

Jeongguk thought back to Yoongi. "Emotional support?" he suggested meekly, mind in a muddle.

He inhaled and exhaled briefly. "Yeah. Um, I was at the hospital waiting room." His sentences wavered dangerously close to tears. "And I was so frustrated and angry and I just wanted to tell you—"

Jeongguk held his breath.

"— that I hate this place and I never wanted to leave and I'm so sorry for not telling you earlier cause I thought if I never mentioned it then it would go away but I was just stupid and it's been— what? Two years? I just want to go home."

"Oh," Jeongguk said, shaken, "It's okay, Hobi. I was stupid too." His heartbeat quickened when he looked through the door gap and spotted his manager strolling near the bar. "When are you coming back?"

"Might be the end of this week."

"Okay, okay Hobi I'm so sorry but I'm in the middle of work right now," he hurried, "My shift ends at 4 pm. Can I call you then? Like, as I'm walking home?"

"When is 4 pm?" he asked, catching on to Jeongguk's quickened pace, then elaborated with, "Time zone difference."

"Uh, in two hours."