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hope-the-myope · 4 years

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Helium - Deflate

Part II of IV of a BTS Fanfiction - February 2018

This is the second part of Helium, which is my only completed fanfiction. If you missed the first part, click here.

Read it on Twitter or Wattpad or down below!

* * * * * * * *

Hoseok let his phone fall to the pillow with a stifled thump. It was the third time that week that his invitations had been rejected by Yoongi. The reasons ranged from busy to lazy to thoughtful, since Hoseok needed to "focus a little more on his studies and a little less on his friends."

But Hoseok found it difficult to concentrate on anything when all that remained to keep him company was the whistling of his half-functioning furnace.

The whole week prior, Hoseok's first week of classes, Yoongi had thrown open his doors. The two spent day after day in his cramped apartment. Despite the strong scents of smoke and mildew, Hoseok admittedly preferred that room against his own. Everything at Yoongi's was worn and used and gray. It looked particularly lived in, just the way Hoseok liked it.

For hours they would talk while Hoseok stared mindlessly at his open textbooks. And for hours after they would sit in peace, Yoongi drifting off into his daily nap, Hoseok scribbling down notes for his upcoming classes.

Luck. Luck was all Hoseok could accredit for the possibility of their friendship. If he hadn't been on that exact bench at that specific hour on that particular day, loneliness could have filled his every waking hour. Instead, he had Yoongi.

And he felt incredibly lucky.

But now Yoongi was slipping through his fingers. Getting a hold of him wasn't easy, and when he did respond, all he had to offer were excuses, not invitations.

And as Hoseok's work and school piled up, the demand for a shoulder to lean on rose sharply, whereas the supportive supply was dwindling.

* * * * * * * *

A loud buzz rattled Hoseok from sound sleep and sweet dreams. He'd been out for less than an hour; the weight of sleep was still heavy on his eyelids.

He pressed his elbow into the mattress below and stretched to reach his phone from the dresser.

"MYG: Can you talk?"

"JHS: Of course. I'm always here."

That glaring phone screen slowly sucked up hours and hours of valuable sleep, all until Hoseok hands were trembling between texts and his legs turned cold and numb from sitting hunched for so long.

He'd listened to countless tales detailing the problems of a younger boy named Namjoon, whom Yoongi had walked home at midnight after a fight. Beer and smoke and fists were all Hoseok could remember of the story by morning, but whether or not he could retell it verbatim, Hoseok definitely knew Namjoon was not someone he would want to meet.

And intertwined throughout the stories of drugs and alcohol, Yoongi slipped in a few notes concerning an even younger friend, Taehyung, who had been living on Yoongi's couch for nearly three months on-and-off. Hoseok could recall even fewer details about this one, yet his impression of Taehyung was no better than the other. Homeless, lazy, stubborn, addicted -- the chat was chock-full of slurs and slang and insults directed at the couch-hog. Yoongi seemed to have lost any filter.

Hoseok began to black out between texts. The room would spin, his eyelids would drift shut, and sleep would take over. Then the bed would buzz beside him and the cycle would repeat.

"JHS: I think I need to get to bed, Yoongi. The sun's almost up."

"MYG: Oh.

"MYG: Sorry for keeping you up, I guess."

It hurt Hoseok to see those texts. And he got them every night for days upon days, a round of complaints followed by a reluctant goodbye. And every morning Hoseok would awake with only a few hours of sleep to depend upon.

One particular night, after Yoongi ranted on and on about how he couldn't handle taking care of himself and two other kids, Hoseok finally broke.

He couldn't take the long nights anymore. Getting to work on time was becoming a hassle. Study time was disappearing as Hoseok lost more and more of the day to text messages.

He finally took action to stop Yoongi. And he extended an invitation one more time.

"JHS: I have to get up for work early tomorrow.

"JHS: How about you come over, and we'll talk in the afternoon?"

...

"MYG: I'll see if I can make it."

* * * * * * * *

"Glad you could come," Hoseok beamed to the pale boy across the room.

Yoongi looked just as beaten as Hoseok. He sat on the floral sofa with his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms dangling between them, and his phone resting haphazardly between tangled fingers, tilted up to his eyes, which were tiredly scanning the screen.

"So do you want to talk about...Taejoon?" Hoseok asked, slipping two glasses from the kitchen cupboard.

Yoongi sighed, "You mean Namjoon. And I don't know. He keeps saying he's getting better. Not sure I trust that." He took the full glass from Hoseok's hand and immediately set it down on the coffee table, never peeling his eyes from his phone.

"And Taehyung?"

Hoseok's guest only shrugged, thumbs gliding across the keyboard without falter.

They sat through a whole television program and nearly half of another before Hoseok tried to discuss again. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Yoongi shook his head. Over his shoulder, Hoseok could read the contact name "Kim Joonie."

"Nothing at all? Even just about yourself? Maybe you want to get something off your chest," Hoseok said.

But the boy beside him was unresponsive and hyper-focused on the letters that lit up beneath his fingertips.

"You know, Yoongi, I thought you came over to talk." Yoongi's thumbs paused for a moment. "I thought we'd talk now, so maybe we could both get some sleep tonight. I thought you finally had the time and energy to make it over here, but it looks like you're still busy."

The expression on Yoongi's face was tense and puckered, growing tighter with each word he heard, as if he we tasting something sour, and seeing this distress bloom before him, Hoseok retreated back into his seat, finally recognizing the bite of his words.

"Well," Yoongi started, brow twitching, "I thought I came over for some comfort. You said you'd always be here to talk, and you invited me. So I thought, since we haven't seen each other face-to-face in a while, I would come over and spend some time with you. But I guess a lengthy discussion was a requirement, right? I came over here just to spill all my feelings in person so that it wouldn't inconvenience you anymore."

Yoongi jumped up and tucked his phone away in his back pocket. He rushed to the coat rack and, while slipping on his jacket, finished his thought. "Well, I'm sorry, then. I didn't think we had a to-do list for every time we hung out. I'll see you later, Hobi."

And he shut the door behind him.

* * * * * * * *

"JHS: I'm sorry.

"JHS: I was really tired. I shouldn't have asked you to come over then. I'm never very cheerful after work.

"JHS: Want to talk now?"

...

"MYG: You sure?"

"JHS: Of course. Like I said, I'm always here."

He missed class. He missed work. He missed calls from his classmates and emails from his professors.

Hoseok spent half his days staring at his phone and the other half charging it. He needed to stay connected. Upsetting Yoongi again was not something he looked forward to. And so he kept his phone beside him at all times.

For the few shifts he did manage to catch, Hoseok would sneak to the back between orders and answer his messages, never once hinting to Yoongi that he shouldn't be texting.

And as for the rare evening classes Hoseok could attend, he answered texts beneath the desk, hoping the professor was too involved in her own lecture to notice.

He didn't know when Yoongi slept or if he even slept at all. It seemed like he was texting every minute of every hour, ranting about his friends and asking for advice.

With weeks' practice, Hoseok became talented at one-handed typing. He learned to text without glancing at the keyboard. He trained himself to wake up at every vibration.

He was an expert texter and an expert supporter for Yoongi. But he made poor support for anyone else, as he ignored his teammates for his biology project and he forgot to tell his boss when and why he was missing hours.

And as the dark bags formed under his eyes, he started to think he wasn't getting enough support himself.

* * * * * * * *

The phone rang. It really rang. And Hoseok picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hoseok, are you there?" Yoongi gasped.

"Yes, yes, I am. Are you all right? You don't sound too good--"

"Hoseok, I think Namjoon's gone out of control. H-he threw up in the bathroom, and he won't stop. I think it's alcohol poisoning. Do you know how to diagnose alcohol poisoning?"

The shaking of his voice was unmistakable; it was almost all Hoseok could hear. The meaning of Yoongi's words faded away as Hoseok tried to comprehend the tone of anxiety leaking through his speakers.

"I don't know. Are you all right, Yoongi?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. But I don't want to take Namjoon to the hospital if it's not serious. Neither of us have the money or insurance to pay those bills. Oh, what should I do?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe look up symptoms and ask him how he feels--"

The phone beeped three times, each tone sounding sharply into Hoseok's ear. "Yoongi, I'll be right back. I think I have another call."

He switched to the other line. "Hello?"

"Hoseok? Hoseok, are you there?"

"Mom! Oh my goodness! Why are you calling me? Aren't long-distance charges outrageous?" He was frantic for an update from his mother. He hadn't seen her in so long.

"Oh, Hobi, your father and I just wanted to make sure you were getting along okay. How are your classes? I bet you're acing them all, huh?"

Hoseok gulped into the receiver. He hadn't attended half his classes. He was failing even more. And he knew midterms were coming up faster than he could prepare. He couldn't lie to his mother like he'd lied to Yoongi all this time. He didn't have the strength to tell her it was all right.

"Mom..."

"Oh, my! It's late there isn't it? I completely forgot about the time difference. I'm so sorry! You should get back to bed, honey. It's not healthy for you to be up so late. I'll talk to you soon!"

"Goodbye--"

And the call ended.

Yoongi's panicked voice returned on the speaker. "He just said it hurts. Maybe I should call a free clinic. Do they have those?"

And in a frenzy of his own, Hoseok hung up that call, too.

What happened to him? Hoseok used to be a star-student. He played soccer in the summer and did his homework without fail. He was happy and friendly and social.

He still had all those traits walking into college.

But then came along Yoongi.

Hoseok wiped the sticky tears from either side of his face and tucked his head under the covers, and he slept. He slept the longest he'd slept in weeks, and yet it was the worst sleep he'd had in years.

* * * * * * * *

After tying the deli apron tight around his waist, Hoseok straightened his visor and set off for work. He felt a bit better knowing he made it to his shift on time. In his new mood, he'd even forgotten his phone beneath his sheets at home.

The first sandwich he made at the counter was simple and perfect, and the customer dropped his change into the tip jar. A cheery smile overtook Hoseok's heart-shaped lips. He felt that this shift would be much better than the last few, where he showed up hours late and nearly passed out from exhaustion.

He served sandwich after sandwich, each with a smile on his face, watching the customers spill in and out of the deli doors. One customer in particular caught his eye, and as the customer moved closer, Hoseok grew pale.

It was Yoongi, stomping up to the front of the line, pushing aside hungry customers to reach Hoseok's register.

He pressed his palms forcefully into the counter and leaned toward Hoseok, yelling, "You hung up on me! You left me when I needed you! Do you know what could have happened? You idiot!"

"I-I'm sorry, Yoongi. I hit the button accidentally. Really, I didn't mean to--"

Yoongi pushed himself away from the counter in disgust. "An accident? If it were an accident you would have called back. I may not be in college, like your smart-ass, but I'm definitely not dumb enough to believe that bullshit."

Hoseok was shocked. Left speechless and confused, all he could squeak out was a faint "sorry."

And Yoongi blew up.

"You're sorry? Sorry doesn't fix any of this!" He stamped his foot into the ground. "Sorry doesn't matter when my friend could have been dying on that bathroom floor! Sorry's a stupid answer, and you know it! Sorry means nothing! Nothing!" and he flung the tip jar to the ground.

Coins scattered across the tile floor. Glass lay in pieces around the mound of cash from inside. The screams and cries of startled children accompanied angry footsteps as Yoongi raged out through the deli doors and back into the streets.

Hoseok gulped. After one quick glance at his boss, he darted for the broom closet and rushed to clean up the glass.

* * * * * * * *

"Hoseok, could you come into my office for a moment?"

"But my shift is over, Mr. Lee."

"Just come sit down for a bit."

Hoseok listened as his boss explained the circumstances, the understaffed mornings and the slow service from the past few weeks. Then he mentioned the outburst from earlier in Hoseok's shift and the shattered glass and the crying children, and he finally let it slip that Hoseok wouldn't be coming in for his next shift. He wouldn't even be in for the shift after that. And he wouldn't be added to the schedule in the following weeks either.

In fact, he wouldn't be on the schedule at all because he didn't work there any longer.

And once again, Hoseok was jobless.

Part III - Decay, posted tomorrow

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