hoseok walks over to yoongi, eyes red and bloodshot. his limbs were shaking, hands wiping away stray tears that drip down his cheeks.
"yoongi?" he spoke.
"i really, really like the way you can pull off any hair color. either from green to pink, you'll still look great. i really, really like your eyes, how they remind me of a cat's and how it lights up when i mention something that makes you happy. really, really like your lips, which put mine to shame. and your smile... oh god." hoseok smiles to himself. "your goddamn smile! i want to tattoo the picture of you smiling at the back of my eyelids, so i can see it even if i close my eyes."
"i really, really like how you always seem to have a song playing in your mind. you always tap your fingers to a random beat. music must really be your forte, eh?" hoseok recalls the time when yoongi would demonstrate how to make music tracks to him. hoseok hadn't understood it then but he intently listened because yoongi was animatedly chattering about beats and layers and bass lines, something he's interested about.
"i like our conversations. i like talking to you. i like it when we share earphones and you let me listen to your favorite songs. i like the way you run your hands through your dyed hair and," hoseok pauses, lump forming in his throat. "i really fuckin' like you, you know?"
and with that, he breaks into sobs. he falls to his knees, tears falling to the patch of grass. he shakily places a single rose on the grave. yoongi had always talked about how he had never received nor given roses.
he could now say he's received one.
with quivering lips, hoseok opens his mouth to speak. "why do you always dye your hair, yoongi? why?"
but this time, he didn't answer.
