Hoseok wipes seawater off his palm on the leg of his jeans, shivering slightly but then relaxing into the comforting warmth of Jungkook's arm around him. He should probably be embarrassed, letting himself be wrapped up like this, but Jungkook's been bigger than him for a while now, broader, stronger, warmer, and Hoseok can't say he minds being looked after like this, even if it's by his little brother.
He curls his own arm around Jungkook's waist, leaning in to their shared body heat, looking out across the beach as Jungkook speaks. He knows Jungkook's life isn't easy, that his home isn't as warm and comforting as it should be, that he struggles to be dependable and supportive of all his hyungs when he should be able to let himself be coddled as the maknae.
But in this moment he sounds free of the usual burdens, painting an image that all of them long for, an escape from the heaviness of their realities. Hoseok daydreams about it all the time, the seven of them living somewhere together, a big house with lots of rooms, no parents, no school, nobody telling them what to dream. And it's not remotely realistic, he knows that, but some nights it's all he can do to keep from cracking, imagining there's a future where they won't be alone or scared or hurting, neglected, lonely, riddled with guilt.
"Maybe we could camp," Hoseok says, Jungkook's words painting images in his head. "Build a fire and cook, sing songs under the stars." He inhales deeply, tasting salt at the back of his throat. "I've never been camping," he says. "Have you?"
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He curls his own arm around Jungkook's waist, leaning in to their shared body heat, looking out across the beach as Jungkook speaks. He knows Jungkook's life isn't easy, that his home isn't as warm and comforting as it should be, that he struggles to be dependable and supportive of all his hyungs when he should be able to let himself be coddled as the maknae.
But in this moment he sounds free of the usual burdens, painting an image that all of them long for, an escape from the heaviness of their realities. Hoseok daydreams about it all the time, the seven of them living somewhere together, a big house with lots of rooms, no parents, no school, nobody telling them what to dream. And it's not remotely realistic, he knows that, but some nights it's all he can do to keep from cracking, imagining there's a future where they won't be alone or scared or hurting, neglected, lonely, riddled with guilt.
"Maybe we could camp," Hoseok says, Jungkook's words painting images in his head. "Build a fire and cook, sing songs under the stars." He inhales deeply, tasting salt at the back of his throat. "I've never been camping," he says. "Have you?"