Bargain (Not Met) (JungHope)

Interlude - Dawn

"Good work, everyone!"

Exclamations of joy and staged agony filled the cramped, stuffy studio. The sound echoed and surrounded the insignificant space and made it seem grand, a beautiful harmony of a day's hard-earned gratification.

"Hey, you!"

Hoseok startled from the corner he had been occupying for the better part of six hours.

"Huh?" he said, rather intelligently.

The dance instructor, a woman of short stature and even shorter patience, approached Hoseok and crouched down in front of him. She stared at him with something like contempt, but Hoseok had come to learn that was her way of showing she cared.

"When are you gonna join, huh?" she said as she pushed playfully at his shoulder, causing him to chuckle weakly. "It's been, what, two years since I caught you watching us? Why haven't you strutted your stuff, kid?"

Hoseok smiled awkwardly and averted his gaze, suddenly very interested in the shoe-scuffed floor. "I'm—"

"'Waiting for my partner'. Yeah, yeah, I know." She sighed as she lifted Hoseok's chin to meet her eyes once again. "Must be a swell guy, huh?"

Hoseok's smile turned wry. "Well, I made a promise to him—"

"I know, I know."

"So why did you—"

"Wanted to see if you've changed your mind." She released her grip on his chin and stood from the floor, looking down at him with pity in her eyes, making Hoseok's body go rigid with discomfort. "I just hope it's not an excuse," she said in parting, closing the studio door behind her without a backward glance.

Hoseok watched as a few stragglers continued with their individual practice late into the night.

It was nearing two in the morning before the last one called it quits and bid Hoseok a familiar farewell. Hoseok watched through the door's narrow window as the dancer made his hasty retreat from the building, disappearing into the milky midnight.

Assured in his isolation, Hoseok pulled out his phone and began playing Begin.

As the chords picked up their tempo, as the song neared its crescendo, Hoseok fluttered open his eyes, which had closed themselves unwittingly to fight back the tears, and watched his reflection in the mirror. He maintained eye contact with himself as he crawled toward the studio's center, expression impassive and anticipating all the same.

Gazing into his reflection, he couldn't help but be reminded of three years ago. Back when he was unable to face the world in the wake of Taehyung's death and couldn't even do the simple task of looking after his appearance.

However, instead of misery and grief in his eyes, there lay a sullen mask of calm. A silent surrender, an acceptance of the situation. Because he didn't know when Jungkook would return, and he was starting to believe that nothing would come of his waiting. But every time he tried this—tried to dance in the studio until the wee hours of the morning, long after the booking session had expired—he would remember his promise to Jungkook, and falter. Maybe not from the guilt, but from the fact that if he broke that promise, he would be admitting that he well and truly didn't believe that Jungkook would be coming back.

It took Yoongi, experienced and knowledgable Yoongi, seven thousand years. What chance did Jungkook have to meet him within the same century?

When the first rays of sunlight slanted their honey-soft glow across the studio, Hoseok sighed and finally paused the three-hour loop. His joints groaned in protest as he stood from the floor, and his ass had reached an ache that numbed itself all over, and all he could he really do was pray that he would be able to get enough sleep on the bus ride home before going to work.

As he exited the studio, he stuttered to a pause when he noticed a lone figure standing in the distance. It wasn't all the strange considering there were plenty of early morning birds in this particular neighborhood, but in the two years he had been visiting the studio, he had never encountered a student eager enough to wake up at dawn to dance.

Curiosity and a healthy dose of sleep deprivation compelled him to approach the stranger.

"Studio's open," he said, startling the man, who had been looking between his phone and the open street. "If that's what you're looking"—the stranger turned toward him, and Hoseok's heart seized—"for..."

Wide, wide, chocolate doe eyes stared back at him, gaze faltering on his face for a moment before doing a quick scan of his body.

"Uh," he said, glancing toward the studio as he slowly shoved his phone into his pants' pocket. He spared Hoseok another glance, a shy smile quirking his lips, as he said, "Thank you."

Hoseok watched him scuttle away and lingered long after he had disappeared behind the studio doors.

A/N - 👀