Chapter Text
There’s only five minutes left in his Intro to Musical Composition class, and Hoseok is intent on spending all of it staring daggers into the blond head three rows in front of him. If looks could kill, he’d have been vaporized an hour ago. Hoseok looks forward to the two hour period twice a week, and every Tuesday and Thursday without fail, one Min Yoongi finds a new way to ruin the one aspect of college Hoseok has set his heart on.
Yoongi’s routine has become like a classic film to Hoseok — in the sense that everyone around him raves over it, but he’s seen it a thousand times and can’t bring himself to care. And even if Yoongi might look like a lesser movie star on a good day, his permanent slouch contradicts any aspect of him Hoseok might find interesting. As the professor brings up an interesting point on contrast, the blond boy shyly raises his hand. Of-fucking-course.
He can’t even bring himself to listen to the gravelly comment because there’s nothing that low voice says that’s worth hearing, although the gleam in their professor’s eyes when he concludes would beg to differ. She’d tried to contain her excitement at the beginning of the semester when she got to the M’s in role call, but even the girls who came an hour late with iced coffee in hand could see Dr. Woo’s clear favoritism towards the boy. Nobody seemed to be as pissed about it as Hoseok, though — maybe because twenty minutes of class could be wasted if the pair got sucked into another compelling intellectual conversation. Not that Hoseok was jealous or anything.
“Yoongi may have even outdone me with his analysis on Beethoven’s use of contrast,” she says, eyes crinkling as she smiles. “Which leads me to your next composition assignment.”
Hoseok lurches forward in his chair. Finally, to get what he’s paying for, not mind-numbing praise of Mr. Prodigy McScholarship. Certain people need to realize that receiving prestige and honor from a university isn’t always deserved. Hell, since he obviously knows everything, why is he impeding on Hose’s introductory class? He focuses on Yoongi’s spindly hands adjusting his square black glasses that make him look like a socially-unaware CEO wannabe. The soft-looking black turtleneck that he clutches into sweater paws removes any aura of intimidation, though, even when he furrows his brow to concentrate. Clearly, geniuses like him must have to dress the part, or else nobody would know how highly they think of themselves.
“You will be creating a short piece, no more than one minute, that utilizes contrast beyond major and minor keys. I want you to really dig into the themes that you come up with to both bring out their differences, but make sure they mesh to become one solid composition.” Hoseok seems to be the only one who’s genuinely excited, as his classmates are too focused on shoving ratty notebooks into expensive backpacks to care.
“It can be any genre, any instrument electronic or otherwise, but I expect a rough draft by next week. Feel free to see me beforehand if you have any questions.” The hour hand on the clock finally moves to four and Hoseok is free, finally free to escape conceited know-it-alls and start working on his passion—
“Oh, and before you leave. You’ll be working in pairs. I’ve assigned each of you a partner that I believe will bring a style that contrasts to yours so that you can truly think outside of your bubble.” He could swear the professor looks directly at him as she finishes her sentence. “Come up individually.”
Hopefully he gets to work with a friendly face, like the scattering of boys he’s casually danced with before.
(Not like that. He’s straight as a ruler.)
(Probably.)
Or maybe he’ll be paired with a pretty girl, like Seulgi, though she seems to be more reserved. Maybe that was the contrast Dr. Woo was going for.
As he slides out of his chair to get in line, he can’t help but notice that the bane of his existence looks paler than a ghost at their professor’s desk -- which is hard to do, considering how ghostly he already is. His wavering words become clearer the closer Hoseok approaches.
“—really don’t think that would be beneficial to either of us, I don’t think we’re compatible—”
“That’s the point of the assignment. To step outside of your comfort zone. Nobody despises anyone else here right? You’re simply music students in the same boat.” Her tone is gentle, yet firm.
“I’m not too sure of that,” comes Yoongi’s meek reply aimed at his black sneakers. Why doesn’t he stand up for himself?
“If both of you agree it won’t work out I can always make different arrangements.” Her eyes light up when she shifts her gaze from Yoongi to Hoseok. “Ah, Hoseok, since you seem ever anxious to leave I should tell you that you’ll be working with Yoongi.”
Hoseok doesn’t hear the rest of the spiel on the intricacies of the assignment as he’s too busy trying to control the heat rushing into the tips of his ears. What could Yoongi possibly have against him? He’s probably afraid that Hoseok’s frivolous hip-hop will bring his immaculate grades and reputation down. The kid has always been so protective of his work that he doesn’t know a single student who’s actually heard his pieces. Maybe their school was blindly trusting a fraud, and Yoongi only accepted the scholarship for the mediocre dining hall food and quirky cafes.
He digs crescent moons into his palm so that he doesn’t hurt anyone. Screw his body for always giving himself away.
“Great,” he says with a smile, but his eyes remain cold. It’s Yoongi’s turn to nervously cough. Now that he has the upper hand, he’s not going to let it slip away.
“I was hoping to start working on this today, but I wasn’t anticipating having to deal with the schedule of someone like you,” Hoseok says. The blond avoids his eyes, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
“Is that a euphemism for the fact that you want a new partner.” It’s not a question if he already knows the answer.
Hoseok forces a laugh. “Of course not. No, I’m sure we’re going to be the best of friends,” he drawls, his words dripping with sarcasm. “I just think that you have a lot on your plate.” With any luck, his prediction would turn out to be true, and their schedules would be too incompatible to even work together. Maybe they could write each section separately and then meet one evening to write a transition and merge the files. One evening with Min Yoongi, Hoseok could tolerate that.
Yoongi looks up at him, shoulders shifted back from his usual slouch. “As a matter of fact, I’m free right now. I think we should discuss our plan for this assignment at the BB.” His lips purse slightly.
Fuck.
“Unless, of course, you happen to be busy…”
Hoseok considers making up a convenient dance practice to attend, but he’s never been a convincing liar, and being humiliated by his partner (rival? he hasn’t decided) sounds worse than working with him.
Never one to turn back from a challenge, Hoseok swings his bag onto his shoulder and starts walking out.
“I’m going now. Don’t be late,” he says, not bothering to look back or wait for Yoongi to follow, and pushes his way out of the door.
~
Hoseok walks up to the teal screen door of The Bean Boys panting after a fifteen minute jog that was his attempt to leave Yoongi in the dust.
He was taken aback when Yoongi suggested it, considering it’s not exactly the closest cafe to the brand-new music building. Hell, it’s not even the best coffee spot on campus — that would go to the Flywheel, whose high prices are easily overlooked once you get a whiff of their croissants.
What the BB (as it’s affectionately called) is, though, is Hoseok’s go-to hangout spot whenever he needs to do homework, or just clear his head. There’s something about the friendly environment and horrifically bright patterned “art” couches that make him feel home and get rid of any stress a tough day might bring him.
Needless to say, he’s gotten to know the cute baristas well after countless days of Yoongi riling him up in class.
The bell rings when he walks in, though the squeak of the door is more than enough to alert Cute Barista #1 of his arrival, as he looks up from the espresso machine he was squinting at to give Hoseok a wave and a boxy grin. Surprisingly, the electric blue-haired boy isn’t the only one who acknowledges his presence: Hoseok spots a half-hearted wave out of the corner of his eye.
Right in Hoseok’s favorite ugly armchair (the suede emerald one with a faded forest pattern) sits a curled up Min Yoongi. How the hell did he beat me here, Hoseok thinks. The blond adjusts his glasses and looks up from his laptop like he hasn’t done anything wrong.
“Are you gonna stand there staring, or are we gonna get to work?” The audacity.
Hoseok closes his mouth that he hadn’t even noticed was open, but doesn’t move to sit. “You’re early,” he muses.
“You’re slow.” Since when did the shy guy develop an attitude?
Hoseok scoffs, but doesn’t bite back. “Let’s set a plan.”
“You’re telling me.” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair and takes a sip of his iced Americano, giving Hoseok a look that falls somewhere between amused and bewildered. “Aren’t you gonna get something to drink, though?”
As much as Hoseok wants to spit at him and deny his thirst, his heaving lungs beg to differ. He tosses his leather Balenciaga messenger bag onto the hideous magenta chair and turns to walk to the counter, where Cute Barista — Taehyung, according to his nametag and his memories of their past conversations — eagerly awaits his order.
“Same as always, sunshine?” He’d earned the nickname because of the bright yellow beanie he wore the first time he sought refuge at the BB. Even now, when a navy blue baseball cap adorns his brown hair, the name won't leave him. Though he was initially confused by the employees, he’s grown to love their positive spirit. And their juicy drama.
“Just give me something that’ll get me through this,” he mutters. Tae almost smiles, then gasps and slams his hands onto the counter, making the shy-looking girl sitting at the bar next to Hoseok flinch.
Taehyung leans in close, whispering, “You don’t mean that he’s…”
Hoseok sighs and barely nods his head.
“But he… but then that means that you…”
Tae’s hands fly up to cover his mouth, which draws more attention to their exchange than he wanted (namely, Yoongi looking up from his laptop. What was he even working on? It’s not like he’d start the project without Hoseok.
Actually, that’s exactly the kind of thing he’d do. Bastard.)
Tae pouts, and his eyes turn sympathetic. “As much as I want to scream right now, I’m just going to make you something with extra caramel that shows how much I’m freaking out over this right now, oh my god,” he says, scribbling a drawing of a sun onto a paper cup. For someone he only saw twice a week, they were sure invested in each others’ personal lives, which made for an excellent outlet.
Hoseok drums his fingers on the counter until Tae hands him a macchiato with a sickening amount of caramel drizzle, the barista frantically glancing between Hoseok and Yoongi as if to confirm it’s not some sort of sick joke.
Hoseok places his drink on a smiley face coaster and moves his bag to the floor to take a seat. “So.”
Yoongi shuts his laptop and clasps his hands together, cocking an eyebrow. “Thoughts?”
The background noise of other students chattering keeps their silence from feeling uncomfortable, but Hoseok rushes to break it anyway.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, but I usually make beats, so I’m sorry if that doesn’t meet your classical standards.” Yoongi seems taken aback at this.
“I might study classical, but it’s not all I know.” Hoseok almost laughs at the thought of the meek boy who drowns in his sweaters rapping on a stage. As if.
His own mixtapes may be works in progress, but they’ve got more personality than the university’s star pupil. Once they’re done, he’ll find some underground shows, get noticed, and then…
And then…
He has no idea. What he does know is that he’s not going to let this stupid project stop him from sharing his own music with the world.
“Look, we’re clearly busy people, so do you want to start writing and then meet on Saturday?” he proposes. A full day without him wouldn’t be enough of a break, but he figures it’s best to get their meetings over with as soon as possible.
“Cool. Your dorm or mine?” He’s not ready to hear that suggestive response coming from a low voice, and he doesn’t know why he blushes.
“No dorms.” Yoongi stares at him blankly. He sighs, accepting the fact that he’ll give up his rich-kid secret.
“My parents own an apartment complex right off campus. It’s got more room and we can be louder,” he says, and he swears Yoongi stifles a smile. “With the music. It’s nicer and cleaner than my dorm anyway.”
“But your parents…”
“Let me stay there when I need to work on a mix, or just escape my roommate. Don’t worry, it’s not like anyone else lives there,” he finishes. Why is Yoongi so goddamn hard to read? He can’t tell if the boy is pleased, impressed, disappointed, or scared. Working together is going to be a blast.
“What’s the address?” he asks, and Hoseok gives it to him. Yoongi actually pulls out a notebook to scribble down the street and apartment number, like he was proving how intellectual he was. He tosses his now-empty cup into the recycling bin and slings his laptop case onto his shoulder, standing and awkwardly staring down at Hoseok.
“Alright. See you,” he mutters, and rushes out the door. As soon as it clangs shut, Hoseok hears Tae’s footsteps rushing to him from behind.
“What the fuck did I just witness.”
“I don’t know,” Hoseok replies, and he doesn’t.
What he does know is that he’s gonna need a whole lotta weed to figure it out.