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Smoke up a glimpse of heaven.
A sip and a drag.Rum burns his throat and the cigarette he’s smoking flares up his lunges. The mixture leaves an acrid flavor in the back of his mouth, and yet it tastes like ambrosia to him. Bitter, but so damn sublime.Yoongi rises a hand and the bartender comes to pick up his empty glass right away. He doesn’t need Yoongi to speak out to get his order. He refills Yoongi’s glass and he brings it back to him in a blink of an eye. Another top-up, another round.That’s mainly the reason why Yoongi loves that world-forgotten pub. The staff knows him well enough to not bother him during one of those nights. It’s not like Yoongi is there to get drunk. Hell, he isn’t twenty anymore. He is a full grown man. He has a job and a house to keep, bills to pay and a handful of so-called responsibilities. He’s drinking for the sake of it. Alcohol isn’t a temporary escape to him. It really wasn’t, no longer. Alcohol is only his silent companion. Rum doesn’t question him; rum silently understands, and plus point, it warms him up during cold evenings like this. Alcohol is, indeed, a really good friend of his, unlike the bunch of noisy people he is usually surrounded by.And then, the music. The music is so fucking good in that saloon. Lounge vibes, soft jazz tunes: heaven for his tired ears. Working in the department, Yoongi knows his way around this kind of sounds, but there’s something in the harmony of that specific pub which keeps attracting him, and Yoongi is well aware of it.Taehyung knows how to pull his strings, or better, how to press his keys.Yoongi hums to Taehyung’s solo sonata while he bottoms out his drink, the notes of the saxophone filling up his dazed mind. It feels so nice. He feels so nice just standing by the counter, a cig in his hand and a bottle of poison at his side. He knows he shouldn’t be drinking when his psyche was altered or whatever, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He needs that fuzziness which keeps him from thinking about his problems, or the fact he’s drinking alone in a suburban pub in the middle of a Monday’s night.Yoongi may be an adult, but it doesn’t mean he has already got his life together. There are still way too many scattered pieces of it he needs to figure out along the way. But that is another day’s work. Tonight Yoongi only needs his rum, good music and cigarettes to smoke his thoughts away.Yoongi stops drinking when his gaze gets so blurry he can’t distinguish the outlines of his glass. Everything is bathed in orange when he turns around to face Taehyung’s makeshift stage. Dimmed lights shine upon Taehyung’s instrument, making it look brighter than any star in the whole firmament. The bittersweet smell of the citrus candles lined up on the counter reminds Yoongi of him, but still, he tries to focus on Taehyung and his composition. It would be a waste to miss such an astonishing performance because of a pipe dream, anyway.Turns out he can’t.Yoongi can’t not think about Jimin in the state he’s in. Choosing that bar was a terrible idea, after all. The smell, the colors, the taste of rum, everything leads him back to Jimin. Back to the reason why he’s there in the first place.“Another glass, sir?”Yoongi weakly shakes his head. “How much is it?” he asks him instead.The bartender shows Yoongi his bill, and once it is paid, Yoongi demands a glass of water to tame the fire in his gullet. Before he calls a taxi, Yoongi sits on the leather armchair by Taehyung’s stage. He takes in Taehyung’s intense stare without saying a word, just enjoying his attentions.Yoongi thinks he could easily get drunk on this, on music and a silly gazing game.Slowly, but surely, Yoongi drifts into a trance state in which he’s alone with those notes. He wished he didn’t have to go back home just yet. He wants to stay there a little longer, allowing himself to sober up at a mellow pace. He used to live too fast until a couple of years ago, and now he longs for the sweet serenity of adulthood. He longs for an adagio song to accompany him through those nights.Yoongi almost falls asleep on the armchair when someone barges in the pub, making the chimes on the top of the door ring loudly. And there goes Taehyung’s flawless symphony, his lullaby.“Why are you here?”The voice hits Yoongi before the view. There is a tall, familiar figure standing behind his back: of course Kim Seokjin had to come in and ruin his peaceful night. Goddamn it.“Let me live, hyung. I’m still thirty-two, I have certain urges to fulfill,” Yoongi replies.“You could have called me. I would have made us dinner and then we could have gotten shitfaced at my place.”“Why?” Yoongi asks him. “You wanted us to be miserable together?”Seokjin clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed. “Look, I’m not just going to stay here and pity you,” he says. “You can get better if you want to. But you aren’t even trying, so what’s the point? Get over it and stop this nonsense already.”“How am I supposed to get over it?” Yoongi snaps, and he can’t stop his blissful haziness from switching to an aggressive mood. Seokjin really knows how to hit his bare nerves, and Yoongi hates the way he is able to get the reactions he wants from him so effortlessly. It makes it easier for him to read Yoongi’s mind, and if there is something Yoongi hates, that is feeling exposed.“You name it.” Seokjin shrugs his shoulders; those wide, gentle shoulders Yoongi’s leaned on way too many times in the past. “Stop the marriage, ravish Jimin like the caveman you are, challenge Namjoon to a duel, I don’t fucking care. Just… Do something! Anything! I can’t stand watching you letting your life pass by like it’s none of your business. And please, stop coming here all together. Alcohol served in pubs is expensive as fuck and we both know your salary doesn’t allow you this kind of luxury. Be smart, and next time you want to fulfill your urges and shit, just show up at the door of my apartment with a bottle of whisky. I will be waiting for you.”Yoongi’s angriness goes as it came, fast and hushed. At the end, Yoongi can’t really stay mad at Seokjin. They’re friends, they’ve been for ages, and that’s what friends do: they pick up your fallen pieces when you’re too tired to do so by yourself, and at the moment Yoongi is fucking exhausted. At least, on those nights, he is not alone.“Come on, I’m carrying you home,” Seokjin says. “My car is right around the corner.”Yoongi nods, then he waves Taehyung goodbye. Taehyung responds to his salute by lifting his chin up, and he also shots a knowing gaze at Seokjin. He must’ve been the one who called Seokjin to make sure Yoongi’s drunk ass got home safely tonight, and Yoongi couldn’t be anything but grateful.Heading toward the front door, Yoongi notices most of the guests’ eyes are fixed on their backs while they walk out the room. Seokjin doesn’t even seem to realize it, but Yoongi is starting to feel uncomfortable.“Look at what you did,” Yoongi tells Seokjin, tugging at his sleeve to rush him out of the pub. “You turned a perfectly fine saloon into a gay bar. They are all eye-fucking you. It’s frustrating.”Seokjin lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Let them be. It’s not their fault I’m so handsome. They are just appreciating art. You, more than anyone else, must know beauty is inspiration. Don’t think I have no idea of whose pretty face you talk about in your lyrics. I know I’m your muse, darling.”Yoongi can’t help but laugh at his friend’s obnoxiousness, right before the harsh coldness of the night embraces them both.As soon as they get in the car, Seokjin drops his careless smile and turns toward Yoongi one last time. “Yoongi-ah, Jimin and Namjoon’s bachelor party is next Friday. Can you promise me you will think about what I told you just now?”“You know I can’t promise you that,” Yoongi replies. “But I can try.”“Good enough.”Seokjin starts the engine, and they’re finally off. Yoongi remembers too well the first time he met Jimin.Hell, there’s no way he could forget about it, even if he tries his hardest to do so.University’s senior year, thirtieth of December. It happens during Taehyung’s birthday party, the coldest night of the month. Yoongi encounters Taehyung at their favorite bbq restaurant downtown –best galbi of the whole damn city- before heading to the party’s location on his bike.Yoongi throws a glance at the neon sign standing at the top of the building Taehyung had led him to. It doesn’t say much to him, but the club music playing at full volume behind the closed doors gives him a vague clue. “Tae, are you sure we are in the right place?” Yoongi asks the younger. “You said we were going roller-skating.”“And we are,” Taehyung assures him. “This is the rink.”Yoongi lets Taehyung hold his hand while he escorts him inside. Just like Yoongi predicted, the music is loud and striking, hits from the 90s coming back alive just for the night.The psychedelic lights above the rink blind Yoongi, and even though the club is half empty, Yoongi is sure he would get lost if Taehyung lets go of his hand right now. There’s too much going on here: too many people moving, too noisy songs, too much chaos. Why’d he even agree to come here in the first place? He could’ve wrapped up his night after dinner, but no, Taehyung had to make puppy eyes at him and drag him all the way to this living nightmare.That’s the moment Yoongi decides Kim Taehyung is going to be the end of him.“Oh, there he is!” Taehyung suddenly points at someone in the crowd, and before he realizes it, Yoongi is being pulled deeper into the throng. “Chim, this way!”Whoever this Chim guy is, Yoongi already despises him. It is his fault he is being hauled like a puppet, it is his fault Taehyung is going to drop him as soon as they reach the rink, and oh-It is his fault Yoongi’s breath is abruptly stolen away from him.Bright orange hair, face of an angel and a thin white choker around his immaculate neck: Yoongi thinks he’d somehow died and reached heaven. There’s no way a human could look this good. Damn, this guy had to be a seraph. He has no other explanation for those beautiful droopy eyes and those full, capturing lips tinted with dazzling tangerine lipstick.“Hyung, this is Jimin, the high school friend I always talk about! You remember him, don’t you?”And yes, of course Yoongi remembers –Taehyung brags about this infamous high school friend of his every time he has the opportunity to do so-, but he didn’t know how Jimin looked like. God, was he missing out a divine sight.Jimin is absolutely stunning, and not only because of his pretty face, but his body too. The white fishnets he’s wearing beneath his stripped jeans reveal his thighs’ toned muscles, which Yoongi desperately wants to touch. His cropped sweater bares his defined abs, and cherry on top, he has a navel piercing. He has to be fucking illegal.At that time, Yoongi still thinks his freshly dyed mint hair and his fake Dr. Martens make him one of the coolest University kid around. His broke ass can’t afford more than a few three dollars t-shirts, but he believes he’s good enough to make a move on Jimin nevertheless. After all, the worst scenario he could imagine of is receiving a flat-out rejection, and that’s pretty much it. Taehyung would never let him live it down, but Yoongi doesn’t mind. He also has a couple of embarrassing stories about Taehyung which could be used as blackmailing material at any moment, just in case. Perks of being childhood friends.“So, Yoongi-hyung?”Yoongi winces, surprised by how close Jimin’s voice sounds. He has no idea when Jimin got nearer, but it’s not like he is going to complain. “Yeah, I’m him. I mean, I’m me… It’s me, I am-” Yoongi shakes his head and silently curses his way out of the mess he’s making. “I’m Min Yoongi,” he lastly manages to say. “Nice to meet you, Jimin.”Jimin lets out a chuckle, and Yoongi swears he just listened to a choir of cherubs singing into his ears. Yeah, he’s dead. He’s totally dead, one hundred percent positive. This is Paradise and Jimin is his guardian angel who has been waiting for him at the gates for all this time. That’s pretty strange, though. Yoongi used to think heaven was a quiet, illuminated place, not this poor excuse of a dark room.“The pleasure is all mine.”And just like that, Jimin wraps his hands around Yoongi’s neck. His right cheeks is suddenly on fire, and before he knows what’s going on, Jimin is pulling away. Jimin kissed his cheek. Jimin just kissed his bloody cheek, and now he’s grinning like a goddamn Cheshire cat. Jimin must’ve already noticed he’s doing things to Yoongi’s mind, and Yoongi is way too weak to stop him. Is Jimin wearing sedatives as perfume or what? Yoongi could swear he was perfectly fine until five minutes ago, prior to Jimin coming into the picture.“Hyung, Chim left a huge lipstick stain on your jaw. It is glowing in the dark.”Still astonished, Yoongi can’t quite catch on with what Taehyung just told him. “He did what?”“Someone had to,” Jimin says before Taehyung can respond to him. “You know the lights are down after midnight here. We don’t want to lose Yoongi-hyung in the crowd, do we?”“Oh, you’re right.” Taehyung flashes Yoongi a boxy smile. “With that mark on, we will be able to distinguish you right away. You’re a genius, Chim.”“Modestly.” Jimin shakes his head, his soft-looking locks bouncing at his movements’ tempo. “Well, I’ve been waiting for you guys for ages and now I’m kind of thirsty. Shall we look for the vending machines? I heard they are located somewhere just about the hallway.”“I’m on it,” Yoongi says, taking out his featherweight wallet already. “What do you want to drink?”“A Cherry Cola would be nice,” Jimin replies, his playful grin never leaving his lips. “Thank you, hyung.”Yoongi shrugs off Jimin’s gratitude, then he asks Taehyung what he’s going to have, and he makes a turn to the vending machines outside the rink. A Cherry Cola and a soda: he’s got this.Yoongi lights a cig while he waits for the vending machine to pop out the drinks he’s paid for. The nicotine relaxes his nerves only after the third drag. Yoongi’s not sure why he’s receiving such an exaggerated reaction from his brain, but he feels like Jimin is the one to blame. His alluring fruity fragrance still lingers on Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi is pretty sure Jimin’s scent is actually a concentrated of pheromones which Jimin somehow released to blow his brain out. Or maybe it was just a neurotoxin.“Hyung?”Definitely a neurotoxin: he’s already hallucinating. He thinks he’d just heard Jimin’s voice coming from the back of the hallway.“Hyung, what’s taking you so long? Taetae is getting worried.”Or maybe not.When Yoongi turns around, his eyes are immediately captured by Jimin’s little smirk at the corner of his mouth. He’s real, he’s right there, a step away from Yoongi, and yet he looks too good to be true and tangible.“Ah, is that so?” Yoongi hums, trying his best to avoid Jimin’s persistent gaze. “I’m sorry,” he adds, and then he brings his cigarette up to his lips. “I was just finishing this before going back inside.”Jimin cocks his head to a side. “Can I take a drag?”Yoongi doesn’t think twice before handing his cig over to Jimin. He silently watches Jimin taking the heavy smoke in and then slowly release it in the wintry air. The way his lips curl around the filter leaves Yoongi wonder how would they look like wrapped around something else. But before his thoughts start to explore infinite scenarios about how this night could end up, Jimin distracts him by thanking him and restituting his Black Menthol.“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” Yoongi says. “You’re too gorgeous for cigarettes, peach head.”Jimin laughs at his statement. “You don’t know me, hyung.”“I do know you,” Yoongi insists. “Your name is Park Jimin and you’re Taehyung’s ex classmate, currently studying contemporary dance at some fucking expensive Arts Academy. Taehyung won’t shut up about you for a second, I swear. I almost feel like I’ve known you for years.”Jimin rises an eyebrow. “Really, now? How come Taehyung never talked to me about you, then?”“You’re asking me?” Yoongi shakes his head. “I have no idea, peachy. Perhaps he doesn’t consider me an interesting subject to bring up in your conversations.”“Or maybe, he was trying to keep you a secret,” Jimin suggests. “Taetae gets jealous sometimes.”“Yeah, sure.” Yoongi would’ve laughed if Jimin’s tone wasn’t so deadpans serious. “We’re just friends. He doesn’t have any rights to be jealous of me, of all people.”“You’re single, I assume?”Jimin’s question catches Yoongi off guard. “Well, I’m married to awful grades and very poor life’s choices,” he replies. “If those don’t count as relationships, then I am. Single, I mean. Why are you asking, though?”“Just needed to make sure.”Yoongi is about to push Jimin to get more details out of him, but his mind’s already migrating toward different thoughts when he sees Jimin squatting down in front of the vending machine, his plump ass sticking out those tight stripped jeans.“Here’s my Coke!” Jimin chirps happily. “Thank you, hyung! How can I repay you?”“Ah, there’s no need to-”“Uhm, let’s see… I might already have something up my sleeve,” Jimin ignores him. “Once we hit the rink, let me show you, okay?” A sly smile, and then he continues: “let me show you how I move.”Jimin leaves a dumbfounded Yoongi in the middle of the hallway, taking away his Cherry Coke and Taehyung’s soda. Yoongi looks down at his half burned cigarette, and when he places the filter between his lips, he can feel Jimin’s warmth still lingering on it.It’s nice. Jimin seems nice, aside from his questionable way of flirting. If he was actually flirting with him, that’s it.Yoongi puts out his cig and heads to the rink once again. Taehyung and Jimin are waiting for him, leaning against the safety barrier between the rink and the hall. Like Jimin said, the lights are down when Yoongi enters the room, and almost everyone is wearing some kind of glow-in-the-dark shit to make their figures stand out in the throng.Jimin’s lips are glitzy in the dim lights, and they serve as Yoongi’s guide toward his friends’ spot. Yoongi follows them as he was enchanted, his legs moving on their own accord, reaching out for Jimin. When they’re face to face, Jimin just stares back at him, eyes focused on Yoongi’s fluorescent jawline, and he takes a sip of his Coke.“Sugary,” Jimin comments, and Yoongi would love to know if he is talking about his drink or an another thing, but Taehyung takes over the conversation from there.“I picked up a pair of rollerblades for you, hyung,” Taehyung says, pointing at the pair of skates lying next to his feet. “Forty-two, right? Come on, put them on and let’s go.”“Who said I was going to skate?” Yoongi argues. “Do you want to see me falling on my ass and cracking my tailbone?”“I will push the stretcher.”“Kim fucking Taehyung, I swear-”“It’s my birthday, hyung,” Taehyung insists, playing with his soda’s tab. “Won’t you do as I please?”Yoongi tries not to give in, he really does, but the sight of the pair of rollerblades by Taehyung’s feet makes him feel guilty. Taehyung went all the way to the rowdy counter to rent these skates just for him, even remembering his shoe size and all. Not using them would be plain mean.Also, didn’t Jimin say he was going to show him his moves on the rink?Yoongi sighs while he crunches down to put the damn skates on, hoping he won’t need to pay a visit to the nearest hospital on his way back home later. At least Taehyung seems satisfied with Yoongi’s resignation, and if breaking his bones is what it takes to see Taehyung’s smile, Yoongi is ready to fracture them all without any hesitation.They hit the rink once Yoongi secured the strings of his rollerblades. Jimin tags along Taehyung in religious silence, and Yoongi can tell from his assorted expression that he’s focusing; on what, that Yoongi doesn’t know yet.The rink is overflowing, and Yoongi can already sense his self-consciousness tingling in his back, making his nervous system emit a red code directed to his brain. But still, Yoongi believes he’s going to be okay. He purposely practiced his resting bitch face for those specific occasions, and now all the hours he spent in front of a mirror looking like a perfect idiot are coming in handy.However, Yoongi realizes pretty soon he won’t be able to keep his cool face on for too long, not when Jimin is already smiling at him suggestively while he helps Taehyung finding his balance. When Taehyung starts skating unaided, not too far from the railing, Jimin whispers something is his ear, and then he’s off to glide on his own.Yoongi tries to reach out for Taehyung, nearly slipping in the process, but right when the back of his hand touches Taehyung’s, something distracts him. Sounds, mostly. All of a sudden, someone is whistling, someone else is groaning, and Yoongi-Yoongi is standing in awe.At the center of the rink it’s Jimin bent in half, his hands rhythmically tapping at the wheels of his skates. He’s feeling the music. When the track fades in a upbeat song, Jimin licks his plump lips and he quickly drops low. Yoongi can’t take his eyes off him when Jimin sensually gets back up, his navel piercing glittering under the neon lights.Jimin is a whole cherry bomb, and he’s about to explode.The swings of his hips, sliding on the floor like he was made for it, his hands drawing imaginary figures in mid-air, and even his spins- Everything about Jimin’s little show is endearing. It’s almost like he’s dancing, unbothered by the slippery floor. Spreading his legs and pushing his hair back, Jimin smoothly slaloms between the bodies of the other skaters, catching their attention with his witty smiles.Jimin does a one-foot turn, and now he’s abruptly standing right in front of Yoongi. Jimin offers him a hand, and before Yoongi has the chance to shake his head, Taehyung pushes him ahead.“Have fun!” Taehyung exclaims, and Yoongi can only flip him the bird before Jimin drags him along.Jimin is fast, way too swift for Yoongi’s likening, but each time Yoongi thinks he’s about to crash into someone, Jimin holds his hand tighter and he slows down to match Yoongi’s pace. Yoongi has no idea how Jimin can shift his balance from one foot to another so quickly without stumbling once, and he has to admit he’s impressed. He definitely hasn’t the same control over his limbs as Jimin.Unaware of Yoongi’s ogling, Jimin rolls his hips and lets Yoongi slide his arms around his waist. Close, so damn close that Yoongi can perceive Jimin’s back pressed against his chest. Yoongi leans in, letting his rushed breath tickle Jimin’s neck, and he thinks, it’s now or never.Yoongi puts a hand on Jimin’s lower back, and he tells him “Is this all you had to show me?”Jimin doesn’t retreat from his touch; on the contrary, he pushes his ass out, grinding imperceptibly on Yoongi’s crotch. “If you want more, you have to ask properly,” he rebuts. “So, what do you say, sugar?”Yoongi rumbles, unable to make out a coherent sentence to respond to Jimin’s provocation. Jimin laughs Yoongi’s lack of words off, and then he breaks free from Yoongi’s hold. Jimin turns in his direction for a second, skating backwards. Catch me if you can, his eyes say, and one moment later he’s slipping away.Yoongi feels like he’s being pulled by a string, no control over his feet whatsoever. He skates behind Jimin, steady as he can, but not quite rapid enough to manage to capture Jimin’s wrists. Their cat and mouse game lasts until Jimin starts dancing again, pulling his arms over his head and enjoying the compliments of the people around him. When Jimin puts a foot on a forward edge, his trailing leg parallel to the other and straight, and he bends over backward, Yoongi finally catches him by his arm.But Jimin doesn’t let him win over without a fight.Once Yoongi’s close enough, Jimin shoves him against the railing. Despite the impact with the barrier, Yoongi doesn’t let go, and when Jimin struggles to pull himself away, Yoongi only tightens his grasp. Jimin twists into his hold, but he doesn’t take long to realize he’s doomed.Jimin remains quiet, but he keeps bouncing his head in tune with the background music. Annoyed, Yoongi grabs him by both sides of his face, and once he looks up at Jimin, he lets out a low fucking hell.Jimin’s temples are soaked in sweat. His inhalations are unsteady, but his eyes are locked on Yoongi’s. Jimin’s cheeks are burning, and Yoongi can’t help but keep touching them, feeling their warmness heat up his freezing hands. Even his lipstick is smeared, and Yoongi wants nothing more than ruin it further. He craves it, so, so, so much.Yoongi leans in, daring to invade Jimin’s space, but Jimin hastily turns his jaw, and Yoongi ends up kissing the corner of his mouth.Jimin laughs at his failed attempt, and Yoongi loses it. “Are you really trying to play with me now?” he asks, his expression stern.“Why not?” Jimin’s laugh fades into a teasing grin. “I love games.”“Noticed that.”Jimin’s smile flinches, and Yoongi catches a spark of enthusiasm burning in the depth of his eyes. Yoongi lets his own fingers slither down Jimin’s spine, resting on his hips. The more he tries to get closer, the more Jimin tries to escape, and the more Jimin tries to escape, the more Yoongi tries to get closer. If Jimin thinks Yoongi will tire out before him, he’s wrong. After all, Yoongi is well known to be a capable player, when he puts his mind into the game.Yoongi steadies his elbows on the railing behind him, and Jimin follows him. Jimin’s waist is tiny around Yoongi’s hands; his skin is burning and Yoongi loves its warmth. He could stay like this forever, holding on Jimin for dear life.The thing is, Yoongi can’t hold on forever.Jimin is beautiful. He could put to shame all the angels in Paradise and still get away with God’s judgment. Jimin owned the fucking rink from the very first moment he walked in. Taehyung always told him Jimin was an eye-candy, that he used to have the whole school at his feet, and Yoongi is sure as fuck no one really minded if Jimin stepped on them.However, Yoongi is an awfully prideful man, and Jimin is putting his patience to test.Yoongi looks away, refusing to let himself crumble before Jimin. Yoongi can’t see which kind of face Jimin sets on, but judging from his sighs, he can tell Jimin’s not amused. They hold still for awhile, letting other people pass by without paying attention to their remarks.Trying not to pay attention to their remarks.“What are they doing?”, “they’ve been at it for almost ten minutes” and “idiots”.Out of the blue, Yoongi starts to feel his own nerves tensing. The fibers of his arm muscles harden, and without realizing it, he’s squeezing the life out of Jimin, who can only shiver in his embrace and give him a quizzical look.It is happening: the voices are getting to him.He needs to step out of that goddamn rink as soon as possible. He has to go out, hide somewhere safer, and protect himself from those malicious comments. He shouldn’t listen to them, he knows it, but he can’t. He can’t, as they’ve already penetrated his head. He can’t, as they are already echoing in his mind. He can’t, as they’ve already taken control over his brain. He can’t, he can’t, he just can’t-And then, they stop all together. The voices in his head, the chaotic movements of the other skaters, their insidious stares; they all just vanish, like thin smoke in the air. No sounds left to be heard at all, expect a smooch’s resonance.Yoongi feels warm again.“Don’t look at them.”Jimin’s voice muffles the turmoil in his brain, it calms Yoongi just like his downers would.“Only look at me.”Jimin bends over and inclines his chin to get at Yoongi’s eye-level, his arms gently resting around Yoongi’s neck. He kisses him one more time, closer to his jawline, then he lingers on his damp forehead, and once he presses his mouth on Yoongi’s cheek, Yoongi finally looks at him.“You won,” Jimin says, nibbling at his own lip. “Won’t you take your prize?”That’s all it takes to Yoongi to forget about his surroundings. In front of him there’s no one expect the kid who corned him in the hallway and he shared a brief cigarette break with. Beautiful Jimin, with his stupidly mesmerizing eyes and attractive lips.Those lips-Yoongi shuts his eyes, and he’s kissing him. Jimin’s mouth is even warmer than his hands, his lips softer than what they seemed. Jimin aggressively takes over the kiss, lightly biting Yoongi’s upper lip and pressing his mouth on Yoongi’s over and over again. Jimin’s kisses taste like coke and menthol, and Yoongi finds them addictive, just fitting for him.As if Jimin was made for him.“Where-” Yoongi momentarily moves away to talk, only to be shushed with another quick peck right after. “Where have you been for all my life?”“Less talking and more kissing.”Jimin pouts. Jimin fucking pouts and Yoongi is willing to disobey his order just because he would be able to see him pouting longer if he doesn’t comply.But point is, Yoongi is too weak for Jimin, he’s been from the moment their eyes met for the first time. He can’t resist him, so he doesn’t: he kisses Jimin one more time and allows himself to get carried away by his own contrasting emotions.An angel, he thought? Screw that. Now Yoongi can say for sure Jimin’s a devil in disguise.Jimin sucks harder on Yoongi’s cupid bow, and Yoongi gets the message straight. He opens up his mouth, and Jimin finds his way in right away. The tender strokes of Jimin’s tongue overcome Yoongi’s insecurity, and soon enough Yoongi finds himself getting into their make-out session.Yoongi wants to take it all. He wants to bury himself deeper in Jimin so that he can get a better taste of that medicine. Sweet. Jimin’s mouth is so sweet, and the glides of his tongue are not as invasive as Yoongi firstly considered. On the contrary, they’re calculated, syncopated to Yoongi’s pace.Jimin isn’t pushing Yoongi’s boundaries, and that’s a big, fat turn on for Yoongi.Their kisses become more desperate as time goes by, but never too forceful on either sides. They take their time savoring each other’s flavor, nourishing each other’s needs. Slowly, but deeply, Yoongi falls somewhere in between the beats of Jimin’s heart, pressed to his chest, and he believes he could make a song out of them.He could make Jimin sing prettily with just the touch of his hands, make him reach his peak and hit notes Yoongi never heard before.“What are you doing?”A clash, and their perfect harmony is ruined.Yoongi turns his head, and Taehyung is standing right there, behind Jimin. “Fuck, Tae-” Yoongi shutters. “I was… We were-”Jimin’s reaction is rapider than Yoongi’s and straight to the point. “Nothing is going on here!” he exclaims. “An eyelash got into my eyes and Yoongi was blowing it away.”From Taehyung skeptical look, Yoongi can tell Jimin hasn’t fooled him. Of course. Taehyung isn’t stupid. They are the idiotic ones, kissing in the rink like there wasn’t anybody there expect for them. They should’ve expected the possibility of getting caught by him.Somehow, Yoongi can’t say he’s regretting it. Not even a little. Not at all.“Yeah, sure,” Taehyung says, rolling his eyes. “Look, I think I left you on your own for enough time. Can we skate together now?”Jimin jolts at Taehyung’s snappy tone. “Taetae, let me-”“No!” Taehyung grabs Jimin from his wrist, but he does so too strongly, causing Jimin to stumble in his feet.Yoongi’s body works faster than his mind. Yoongi doesn’t realize he’s putted himself between Jimin and the hard pavement until a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder into his legs. He’s floored, and when Yoongi looks up, Jimin is there, right between his arms, hovering over him.Jimin’s mouth is agape, his expression shocked, and he’s trembling under Yoongi’s fingertips. He looks shaken, and Yoongi first instinct is to make sure he’s okay. Arms? Looking good, firm and strong. Spine? Nothing broken. Nose? Still cute, Yoongi would like to touch it.“Chim, hyung!” Yoongi doesn’t have the time to check if his own organs are still intact, ‘cause Taehyung is already pulling him up. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”“We’re alright, Taetae,” Jimin speaks up. “But I must check my knee. It could be bruising.”“I’m coming with you.”“Don’t worry,” Jimin shakes his head, and then he sends Yoongi a subtle look. “Hyung will take care of me.”Taehyung’s gaze shifts from Jimin to Yoongi, and that’s when Yoongi knows he’s fucked up. Flirting with Jimin right in front of his eyes hasn’t been a smart idea, but again, Yoongi can’t bring himself to care. He simply doesn’t.Jimin turns his back at Taehyung and he slides toward Yoongi, slightly bending his right knee. Yoongi is aware he’s just making up his injury, but he says nothing in that regard. He lets Jimin take him by an elbow and drag him at the outskirt of the rink. Taehyung doesn’t even try to stop them.When Taehyung disappears from his sight, Yoongi pinches Jimin’s hand to get his attention. “An eyelash? What kind of cliché shit was that?”“I tried, okay?!” Jimin unexpectedly snaps. “You have lipstick stains all over your pretty face. He already knew anyway.”
Touché.
Yoongi’s about to take back his words and apologize to Jimin when he gets violently drawled to the dressing room right outside the rink. Jimin opens the door and he shoves Yoongi inside, locking in them both. There’s no pause, no notice, no gap. Jimin steals them all: Yoongi’s time, Yoongi’s focus, Yoongi’s space.They’re kissing again against the closed door, entangled in each other’s clinch, Yoongi holding Jimin’s hips and Jimin clasping Yoongi’s shoulders. For a brief moment, Yoongi believes he’s got the upper hand in their position, but Jimin proves him wrong when he starts clicking his buttons, kissing him all over his jaw and gradually running down his neck. Yoongi gasps when Jimin bites hard into his collarbone, both in pain and pleasure, only to be shushed with another caste kiss on his lips.Yoongi grabs Jimin by the collar of his sweatshirt, holding him in place while he allows himself to get lost in Jimin. Jimin lets him take the lead of their kisses, eagerly responding to Yoongi’s touches by grinding their crotches together. Yoongi feels his own tongue piercing scratching Jimin’s walls, and Jimin whimpers into his mouth, hitting Yoongi on his back to make him withdraw. Yoongi doesn’t. He clings to Jimin firmer, but he concedes him a lungful of fresh air nonetheless. Things were about to become tighter for him too, after all.“I want to suck you off,” Jimin tells him, his breaths short and his cheeks flushed. “Can I?”Yoongi smirks at Jimin’s boldness. He likes it. “I’m not into voyeurism,” he teases him. “But I have to admit all your little provocations putted me on the edge.”“So?” Jimin slides his hand down to Yoongi’s belt, playing with the buckle. “Do you want me to or do I have to beg?”“Actually, I would love to see you begging on your knees.”“I’m not going to do it.” Jimin giggles maliciously. “I’m not that desperate yet.”“Sure, peach head.” Yoongi puts his hands over Jimin’s smaller ones and he urges him to pull his zipper down. “Let’s see for how long you will defy me.”Jimin leans down before Yoongi’s eyes, licking his lips prior to pushing his jeans out of the way. Jimin strokes Yoongi’s clothed member, feeling its heaviness filling his hand. When Jimin presses his palm flat on Yoongi’s shaft, Yoongi rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t let out any sound. He’s not giving Jimin the reactions he wants from him, not yet, not so easily, and Jimin seems annoyed by that, his movements growing more frenetic as Yoongi resists him.Jimin hastily frees Yoongi from his boxer, and coldness spreads all over Yoongi’s body when his cock springs out. It lasts merely a second. An instant later, Jimin’s blowing hot breaths directly on his member, and Yoongi feels like he’s going crazy if Jimin doesn’t share more of his heat with him right now.Jimin takes his time admiring the wetness smeared on top of Yoongi’s head, smudging it across his whole shaft with his fingers. Yoongi feels his lungs burning up as Jimin brings his digits up to his lips and licks them clean. Jimin gulps down his precum, and Yoongi just can’t believe his nerves. Jimin is unbelievable. And sinfully ethereal too, as his face glows with pride once he finishes wiping his own finger with his tongue.“Like what do you see?”Yoongi looks down at Jimin, who starts pumping his cock at a mellow pace. It’s just an ignition, but if Jimin keeps up with these antics, it won’t be long before Yoongi’s low flames turn into a whole blaze and he consumes him to the core.“Don’t play with fire, peachy,” Yoongi advises him.“Maybe I’m the one who wants to be played with, hyung.”Yoongi smirks, and Jimin takes his expression as a clear giveaway. Jimin doesn’t warn him before he closes his lips around Yoongi’s tip, sucking on it like a fucking lollipop. The more Jimin shoves him into his mouth, the more Yoongi struggle to keep his mind clear.Gliding down his cock, Jimin maintain his gaze fixed on Yoongi. Jimin’s lips are impossibly stretched out around Yoongi’s member, the corner of his pretty eyes glassy with tears. Wet sounds flares up Yoongi’s need, and soon enough he finds himself meeting Jimin’s laps by thrusting his hips forward.Jimin’s hands locate Yoongi’s, and he guides them to his nape. Yoongi presses his finger deeper behind Jimin’s neck, getting a good grasp of it, and he shoves him ahead, interlacing his digits in Jimin’s locks. Everything feels so smooth: Jimin’s hair, his tongue working up Yoongi’s cock, his strangled moans-Yoongi can’t take it anymore.He gets a solid clutch on Jimin’s nape and he shoves himself deeper and faster inside Jimin’s mouth. Jimin remains unaffected by Yoongi’s rudeness, widening his lips in order to accommodate Yoongi better, and Yoongi just feels welcomed by him.Jimin keeps moving as he slides back and forth on his rollerblades in tune with Yoongi’s thrusts. The split rolling down his chin distracts Yoongi, leaving him wonder how Jimin learned to suck like some sort of sex god. Jimin is so compliant, so soft, so-“So good,” he breaths out. “So good for my, baby.”Something seems to immediately switch inside Jimin’s head. His stare becomes more determinate and he drops to his knees, stabilizing himself as he takes in all of Yoongi.“Jiminie likes praises, uh?” Yoongi taunts him, trying to conceal his struggle to keep up with Jimin’s blows. “Is this the kind of games you like to play?”Jimin doesn’t respond to him, and his eyes are too unfocused for Yoongi to take a hint out of them. Jimin’s sucks become sloppier as Yoongi’s about to loosen up. His insides are burning so badly and he really needs to cool down.“Peach, release,” he demands Jimin, but Jimin ignores him. “Jimin, I’m going to come if you don’t stop right there.”Jimin lets out a quiet snort and he slowly gets off him, replacing his mouth with his hands right away. “So what?” he says, his voice raspy. “Come inside.”“We literally met half an hour ago,” Yoongi complains. “How can you be so trusty toward a stranger?”“Didn’t we share a cigarette already?”“And what about it?”“It meant a lot to me, hyung.” Jimin sighs. “Sharing a cigarette is a more intimate act than having sex with someone. At least for me.”Yoongi doesn’t have the time to ask him how could possibly a cigarette compare to sex. Jimin opens up his mouth again and he resumes his half-done job. The slides are slacker, messier than before, and yet Yoongi just feels ecstatic, soaring to cloud nine. As soon as Jimin starts sucking harder, his lashes tickling his sacks, Yoongi tilts his head back. The inside of Jimin’s mouth is pressing softly against his shaft and his head, his tongue gently massaging his whole length.But when Jimin focuses on his tip, hell, that’s the moment Yoongi shakes.Jimin lets his cock out of his mouth and he holds it again in his minute hands, licking it from the base to the head. He goes up and down a few times before he targets the underside of his glans. Jimin doesn’t pressure it; instead, he uses the top of his tongue to stimulate him lightly, until Yoongi can’t tame it anymore.It’s a rapid escalation from there.Yoongi’s stomach tenses, his insides get all knotted up, his arms go limp, and his legs quiver. Yoongi comes all over Jimin’s tongue, whose expressions seems peaceful, as he is enjoying the entire scene of Yoongi falling apart in his mouth. The corners of Jimin’s lips rise up while he licks away the very lasts drops of Yoongi, smiling throughout Yoongi’s breakdown.Yoongi’s ears are buzzing in delight, but he can still listen to Jimin’s giggle after he’s finished wiping his cock with his tongue, his lips gleaming with a mixture of saliva and cum.And Yoongi knows he won’t ever be able to forget this sight.“Fuck, your dick is literally glowing, hyung.” Jimin laughs and Yoongi gets carried away by his glee, chuckling with him. “I should’ve removed my lipstick before going down on you.”“Never mind, it’s not like somebody else is going to see it.”“Ah, really?” Jimin’s smile crooks into a mischievous smirk. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to see it?”“For now,” Yoongi specifies.“For now,” Jimin repeats absentmindedly. “Okay, then. ‘For now’ is good enough.”Yoongi shots a glance at the bulge inside Jimin’s jeans, and his sense of justice tingles up. “Do you need a hand with that?”Jimin rises an eyebrow. “Metaphorically, or-”“Are you into rimming?”For a brief moment Jimin looks unsure about how to answer his question, but then: “I never tried before, so I don’t really know.”That definitely isn’t the kind of response Yoongi was expecting from Jimin. “Really?” he says, not even attempting to sound less surprised. “Have you ever been on the bottom?”“Of course I did,” Jimin replies. “But I don’t particularly enjoy it. I prefer being the one in control, I guess.”“I will make you adore it,” Yoongi promises him. “Starting from tonight.”Jimin’s face lights up as he laughs once more. “Are you putting your piercing to work, hyung?”“Did you notice it?”“It would’ve been hard not to, since it was shoved up inside my mouth for a solid amount of time.”“I’m sorry about that.”“Don’t,” Jimin says. “It was sexy as fuck, and I would love to feel it again, but-” Jimin points at his own mouth. “It would be kind of gross to make-out now.”Jimin has a point, and Yoongi is not going to question it, but that doesn’t mean he’s giving up on the idea of giving Jimin the goddamn best rim of his life. “I want you on all fours over a fucking bench or something, head down and ass up,” he demands.Jimin’s quick to obey him and he glides toward the nearest bench in the room. He sends Yoongi a knowing look before he gets on top of the counter, his skates hanging on its edge and his back arched. Yoongi grabs his ankle with a hand, while he strips Jimin out of his jeans with the other. Jimin helps him unzipping his pants and shoving them down, the swell inside his boxer now completely at the mercy of Yoongi.Yoongi promised him he was going to take good care of it, and he will.Yoongi lets his hands wander across Jimin’s body, playing with the beads of his navel piercing and caressing his back. He massages Jimin’s shoulder, managing to undo the tangle of nerves he accumulated there, and Jimin visibly relaxes into his embrace. Yoongi picks up his tempo, memorizing the cadence of Jimin’s heartbeats, his breaths, how they fasten up when he accidentally touches his piercing and how Jimin shudders when Yoongi strokes his inner thighs.Jimin follows the trace of Yoongi’s fingers inarching his spine at their passage, keeping their bodies as close as possible. When Yoongi gropes Jimin’s ass, Jimin presses it back against Yoongi’s hand. That’s how Yoongi understands Jimin’s ready and he’s waiting for his next move.“Hu-Hurry up!”Yoongi’s self-control completely crashes down when Jimin cries out for his attentions. He grabs Jimin from his hips and he lifts him up, tugging at the borders of his fishnets and fiercely tearing them up. Jimin whines at the sudden exposure, but Yoongi’s fast to shut him up by putting his own fingers over Jimin’s lips.“Suck on them,” Yoongi orders him, and Jimin just complies.Jimin meekly takes Yoongi’s fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. The softness of his lips still amazes Yoongi, and he can’t believe they’ve been on his dick literally minutes ago. While Jimin keeps his mouth busy with Yoongi’s digits, Yoongi pushes Jimin’s boxers down. Jimin’s buttocks stand out in front of his very eyes in all their glorious bareness. Yoongi’s never seen an ass so perfect before. Jimin’s cheeks are as toned as his thighs, the aggressive imprints of the fishnets still fresh on his irritated skin. Yoongi draws with his free hand the outlines of Jimin’s reddened marks and Jimin trembles under his careful brushes.Yoongi playfully smacks one of Jimin’s cheeks, telling him to stay still, and Jimin opens up his mouth to gasp, causing Yoongi’s fingers to slip out of it.“Behave, or else-” Yoongi warns him, and Jimin can only nod before Yoongi slaps his ass again, hard. This time Jimin knows better than to dare mess with him in the state he’s in.Jimin lets Yoongi take his first taste test.Yoongi buries his mouth inside Jimin’s slit, keeping his tongue loose and around his puckered hole. He spreads Jimin’s cheeks to get a better view on his opening, but he doesn’t waste time observing it from afar.Yoongi laps Jimin’s crack with circular motions a few times before he pokes his whole tongue in. Jimin screams as Yoongi’s tongue penetrates him, squirming into his grip. Yoongi goes in and out, feeling every single inch of Jimin’s warm walls twitching under the pressure of his cold piercing, until he starts growing tired of it. He presses one last wet kiss on his perineum, then he taps it with the tip of his index, silently asking Jimin if he’s allowed to. Jimin’s reaction is obvious, as he pushes his ass out to meet Yoongi’s hand.Yoongi doesn’t hesitate anymore.He slowly thrusts his index inside Jimin’s hole, letting him take his time adjusting himself at the intrusion. Jimin sucks his finger in, barely opposing any resistances to Yoongi’s strokes, and he moans, rough and low. He’s tight. He’s so goddamn tight, and just the thought of slipping inside him makes Yoongi hard again. But he can’t. He can’t take Jimin here and now, not without a proper preparation and a condom, and above all, not inside a fucking dressing room. Jimin deserves more than that.“Please, hyung!” Jimin groans, pushing his lower back against Yoongi’s finger. “Please, give me more!”Satisfaction runs along Yoongi’s blood directly toward his aching cock, and Yoongi can’t help but laugh at Jimin’s whimpers. “What did you just say?” he asks Jimin. “Oh, right! You are not that desperate yet, yeah?”“Oh, fuck you!” Jimin exclaims, clutching himself around Yoongi’s index seeking for that sweet friction which kept him going until now.“No way in hell,” Yoongi harshly replies. “I’m the one doing the fucking.”“Then just do it, hyung!”“Beg,” Yoongi reminds him. “Beg for it and I will give you what you need.”Jimin stops moving his hips all together, but his walls are still contracting around Yoongi’s finger. “Please…” he mutters at the end.“Please what?” Yoongi encourages him.“Please, fuck me,” Jimin finally says out loud. “Fuck me, hyung. You can use your hands, your tongue, your cock- I don’t even care anymore. Just give it to me.”Yoongi can’t deny Jimin what he’s longing for, not when he’s filled up his prideful ego with those pretty words. Jimin earned it fair and square, and Yoongi loves fair and square games.But he never said he plays according the rules.Yoongi grins to himself as he grabs Jimin from his waist and he tosses him around. Jimin can’t do anything but yelp when his wrists are being caged against the bench and Yoongi hovers over him, his abs exposed as well as his cock. He looks so stunning, just standing there, naked beneath Yoongi’s gaze, letting Yoongi see right through him.Jimin’s quiet, but his thoughts are so deafening they’re giving Yoongi a hard time concentrating. He doesn’t like feeling helpless and it shows, considering he can’t hold still for a fucking second, but Yoongi can handle him just fine. He’s dealt with much more worse than Jimin, anyway.Yoongi starts by nibbling Jimin’s lobe, and then slowly reaching the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, leaving a long trail of open-mouthed kisses across his chin and his Adam’s apple. He suck Jimin’s skin until nice, purple bruises bloom all over his clavicles, beautiful flowers which Jimin will probably display as long as they don’t wither a few days later.Jimin twists and whines into Yoongi’s firm clasp, but he freezes when Yoongi suddenly steps back, getting off the bench, getting off him. “Where are you going?” he anxiously asks Yoongi, and Yoongi distracts him by flashing him a cheeky smile.“Nowhere, peach,” Yoongi plainly replies, his hands trailing down Jimin’s torso, his lips following right after. “I’m here.”Jimin cries out in bliss as soon as Yoongi interlaces his own piercing with his one, lightly biting the beads of its ends. They clink as they come in contact, and Yoongi insists on gnawing Jimin’s belly button until he manages to draw a long, guttural moan out of him.Jimin sounds exactly as Yoongi pictured him: sweet, but animalistic. His soft features attract his preys easily, he traps them in his little games, and then Jimin mercilessly kills them off at the given moment. It’s dangerous. Jimin’s dangerous. Yoongi’s figured it out a long time ago, but he can’t stop. Jimin’s voice’s too addictive to him, and Yoongi wants to hear more and more of it. He wants to know what Jimin’s limits are, which one is the highest note he can sing.Yoongi almost slips on his skates when he attempts to put his mouth back on Jimin’s hole, and he curses while Jimin laughs at his clumsiness from above.“Are you having fun up there, peachy?”“You’re quite entertaining, indeed,” Jimin admits. “But I would be more pleased if you just make me come already.”“Eager, aren’t we?” Yoongi teases him.“You’re the one who takes it way too slow,” Jimin comments, and Yoongi’s pride jolts.“I bet you’re going to come in less than thirty second as soon as I start scissoring you.”“Let’s bet on it, then.”And just like that, the game is on.Yoongi’s fingers easily slides inside Jimin’s puckered hole, as he’s already loosened him up. Jimin’s burning out, too exhausted to do anything but moan and thrust his hips down as Yoongi spreads his digits inside him, his other hand buried deep in the flesh of Jimin’s bottom.“Claws in, kitten.” Jimin hisses. “You’re scratching my buttcheeks.”Yoongi pretends he didn’t hear Jimin’s protest, and he justifies his own egoism telling himself that he’d rather need to focus on the rhythm of Jimin’s spasms. He knows he’s going to find Jimin’s break point if he maintains his goal clear and he prevents Jimin from fucking up his brainwaves with his lure. He only needs to calm down his nerves, keep his hold firm, curl his fingers and -“Ah! Fuck- Yoongi!” Jimin quivers and rolls his eyes back in his head. “Fuck, do the thing again. Do it again, shit!”Jackpot.Yoongi’s just hit Jimin’s jackpot; he’s won.Yoongi curls his digits two, three more times before Jimin comes all over himself with a desperate cry. Yoongi milks him out his orgasm, enchanted by Jimin’s honest reaction. The lack of filters on his expression allows Yoongi to see a brand new side of Jimin, the vulnerable, weak one. Jimin completely becomes lax into his arms, pliant underneath Yoongi’s hands, malleable like a chalk doll.Jimin takes a while to stop squirming, clearly shocked by the intensity of the waves of pleasure which washed over him. He stares at Yoongi, but he says nothing, letting his hushed breaths speak for himself.Yoongi puts his smug face on and he looks down at Jimin. “Two victories in a row,” he pompously says. “It seems like you’re having a damn good time down there. Am I wrong?”“Fuck you,” Jimin splits out. “Oh, never mind. Fuck me. Preferably, all the time.”Yoongi smacks Jimin’s thighs as he rises up and shoves a hand inside his pocket to pick up a tissue for them both. They clean themselves in silence, and Jimin’s the first one who breaks the ice once they’re presentable enough to show up in public, their rollerblades forgotten in one corner of the room.“So… you tore up my fishnets.”“Yeah, I apologize for that,” Yoongi immediately says. “I don’t usually go around ripping lingerie.”“It’s okay,” Jimin assures him. “It’s not like I paid for them anyway.”“Oh, I see. Were they a gift?”“Nope,” Jimin pops out the ‘p’ in a jokey way, and then he adds: “I stole them from the thrift shop downtown.”And suddenly, astonishment crashes over Yoongi, who refuses to believe what he’s just heard. “You steal from shops?” he asks, sincerely confused. “But why? Don’t you have enough money to pay for your clothes?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “And what about the expensive Academy you’re attending?”“Got a scholarship for that one,” Jimin replies, his look compact, as he didn’t just admit he’s a fucking thief. “And as for the clothes, I pay for them most of the times, but I prefer saving up money on less significant things.”“So you steal them.”“Well, if you put it like that-”“There’s no other way to put it,” Yoongi interrupts him. “You- You steal stuff. It isn’t right, Jimin.”Jimin stands taken aback for a little while, and then he shrugs. “Do I look stupid to you?” he cracks. “Of course I know it isn’t right, I didn’t need you to come to me and say it to my face.”“But why?” Yoongi persists. “I don’t get the reason why you steal even though you have enough money to pay-”“Hyung, drop it,” Jimin ruthlessly shuts him. “Don’t speak to me as you’ve known me since ages ago. Just- Just stop it. You’re making me feel uncomfortable.”Yoongi remains quiet, too shocked to think straight. Never. He wouldn’t have ever thought of Jimin –beautiful, angelic-looking Jimin- as a shoplifter. Things weren’t adding up in his mind. Taehyung always praised his friend for his generosity and his good manners, he never barely hinted at Jimin’s ‘hobby’. Did he even know about this? No way. Taehyung wouldn’t ever befriend someone of low moral views.“I really crave a cigarette right now.”Jimin distracts him by grabbing his wrist and leading him out the dressing room. Yoongi lets himself get dragged outside, toward the rink. The music playing in the speakers is not loud enough to drown out his reflections; even the crowd doesn’t seems as oppressive as before. The only thing his dazed gaze can distinguish is Jimin’s back. The same back which has been pressed against his chest for almost an hour now.Yoongi still can’t believe this shit.Once they’re in the hallway, right before the entrance, Jimin pulls his phone out. He tells Yoongi he’s sending a message to Taehyung, to warn him they’re heading back home. Why, Yoongi would like to ask him, but he finds himself at a loss of words.“So, sugar…” Jimin smiles at him as he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck. “Let’s bring to my place what we left hanging in the changing room, okay? And give me a cigarette. I deserve it, don’t I?”“Buy it for yourself.”Yoongi puts his hands above Jimin’s and he tries to shove them aside, but Jimin clings to him firmer.“I can’t,” Jimin says, his stare suddenly watery. “I don’t have enough money to feed my addiction. I gave you something you wanted, right? Now you should give me something I like in return.”Yoongi almost gives in when Jimin looks at him like that. “It’s Taehyung’s birthday-” he feebly protests.“I already told him we’re going away,” Jimin insists. “Come on, let’s go.”Yoongi doesn’t know what to do anymore. He can’t catch on with what he’s getting into, and Jimin’s unexpected clinginess isn’t helping him resolving the disarray in his head. Everything is too fuzzy for Yoongi to understand what’s going on, and before he realizes it, he’s holding Jimin’s hand and he’s bringing him over to the parking lot, where he’s left his motorbike.He doesn’t think about Taehyung, or the fact he’s leaving him alone out there on his birthday’s party. He doesn’t think about the coldness which hits him hard once he strips out of his leather jacket to give it to Jimin, who’s wearing nothing above his stupidly cropped sweatshirt. He doesn’t think about the way Jimin’s finger curl up in the fabric of his hoodie, holding tight, or the cost of the petrol he’s wasting off to reach Jimin’s house as soon as possible.
How.
How didn’t he notice he was falling right into Jimin’s trap? How couldn’t he figure out the patterns of his plan? How didn’t he understand that Jimin’s won even before they started playing?He doesn’t think about that.The only thought which occupies his mind right now is how the trace of Jimin’s fingertips still lingers on his skin, burning him to the filter.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It is a mess.
His papers, his desk, his equipment. His whole studio looks like has been through a hurricane and barely managed to stay upright. His house plants are certainly dead, since he hasn’t watered them in forever, and if he doesn’t pay attention to where he puts his feet, he would surely stumble in some goddamn cable or in his own underwear. He can’t remember the last time he’s done the laundry, or the last meal he’s cooked for himself, for the matter.
And the smell. The smell is plain terrible. Half-burned cigarettes in his ashtray are blowing out dreadful drafts in every directions, and they reek so badly that Yoongi almost feels like he’s choking on his own second-hand smoke.
His house is a mess.
Yoongi is a mess.
Yoongi wouldn’t define himself as a disorganized person; if anything, it’s quite the contrary. It’s just- Sometime he forgets to take care of himself, when he has tons of work to do. Also, it’s not like his untidiness is bothering someone else beside himself, as he’s been living alone for years now. He still remembers the times back in college when he had to scold Namjoon because of the trail of clothes he used to leave hanging on their shared couch in the kitchen, or when he had to urge him to wipe off his side of the room because at some points Yoongi couldn’t even remember the color of their pavement, hidden somewhere under piles and piles of Namjoon’s books and CDs.
To think they fought a lot because of disarray, him and Namjoon.
Namjoon.
He probably doesn’t have to clean anything on his own, now. He’s most likely to have one or two maids hired to do so in his place.
Yoongi goes stand by the balcony and lights one more cigarette. Smoke fills up his lunges and takes his breath away. Yeah, that is exactly what he longs for.
Asphyxia.
The confusion in his room is asphyxiating, his job is asphyxiating, his loneliness is asphyxiating, even his cigarettes are asphyxiating, and he comes to think over and over again, this is exactly what he is wishing for.
To burn up brutally so not even his ashes remain anymore.
Yoongi picks up his notebook and tries to write down his thoughts. Engraving notes on paper is his only way to put order to his disorder. Music is tidy; music has to be arranged; music is perfection. It doesn’t matter how fucked up his mind is, as long he can create sensate, meaningful lyrics. He craves them inside his chest so they don’t wander off and mistakenly end up in his head. His heart is strong enough to tolerate another painful wound, but his brain certainly isn’t. He can’t think about his emotions, it’s a luxury he can’t afford, so he lets them cascade down his pen, emptying his mind.
The first idea which crosses his brain is, keep it raw, keep it real. If his music has never been rejected by the producers, that’s because the shit he makes is true and it burns. Feelings, sentiments cannot be filtered, they cannot be layered, because the more they’re treated, the more is difficult for the ears to dilute them and pour them down the drain.
Unrefined songs are the best song, and Yoongi is an unrefined man, but it doesn’t mean he is the best man.
Yoongi is humming and tapping the rhythm of the tune in his mind with the cap of his pen. He shouldn’t, as that ballpoint is the most expensive item he owns. He hates that stupid pen so much, but he can’t bring himself to get rid of it.
Everything is going just fine, and he could wrap up with his work in an hour, two at most, if only there wasn’t this fucking bell ringing in his-
Oh.
It’s his own fucking ring bell, he realizes.
Yoongi steps out of his studio and goes straight for the entrance. He isn’t expecting visits, and the person who’s decided to knock at his door surely must have a death wish. No one bothers him during one of those night; his friends know better.
Reluctantly, Yoongi unblocks the doorway. He looks up at the intruder, he takes a nick of time recognizing the face of the man who’s standing right in front of him, and he just grumbles.
He definitely doesn’t have the time and the mind to deal with him, of all people.
“Well, good evening to you too. Yes, I’m okay, and no, I haven’t had dinner yet. Of course I would like something to drink. Aw, big boy! I missed you too!”
Namjoon’s voice is cheerful, temperate and smooth as the usual. The glasses he’s wearing are cooler than the ones he used to have when they were still living together, but his eyes are still the same sparkly stars of the past.
Yoongi doesn’t get the reason why Namjoon would’ve come to him all dressed in, with his imported Italian shoes and his tailored suit, if not to mock him and his pitiable household, but he lets him in anyway. They’re… friends, after all.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but you know-” Namjoon starts, making his way down the corridor. “Business.”
And no, Yoongi doesn’t know ‘business’, but he says nothing in that regard. “I guess you have a good motivation to be here,” he tells him instead. “I mean, we haven’t seen each other in-”
“Months, yeah” Namjoon interrupts him. “Since the day I told you I proposed to Jimin, if I remember correctly.”
“Ah, is that so? I didn’t notice so many months already passed by. I didn’t mean to disappear,” Yoongi says, but he’s aware Namjoon’s right. He intentionally –and successfully- avoided him for all that period. Shoot him, he had his reasons back then. Very fair ones. “Let’s get over it quickly. What do you want me to do?”
“Why do you assume-”
If stares could kill, Namjoon would’ve dropped dead right here, right now, in Yoongi’s hall. Yoongi keeps glancing at him until Namjoon puts his act to rest and spills his guts out.
“Okay, okay. I just wanted to ask you something,” he finally admits, and Yoongi makes a gesture to invite him inside the living room. As soon as they’re seated on the divan, Yoongi takes the ashtray standing in the middle of the coffee table and he brings it closer to them as an invitation to take a smoke together, like they used to do when they were two wannabe rebellious teens in college.
Yoongi winces when he sees Namjoon pick up an e-cigarette from the pocket of his jacket, but Namjoon doesn’t note his disappointed expression as his gaze is lingering on the pad Yoongi’s left on the table when he’s heard the doorbell ring.
“You’re still using the Mont Blanc I gave you,” Namjoon says, pointing his chin to the pen beside the notebook. “I’m glad you haven’t trashed it yet.”
“Why would I? I’d rather sell it and make some money out of it,” Yoongi jokes, but Namjoon doesn’t seem amused. He looks like he wants to tell Yoongi something, but he keeps inhaling his e-cigarette in silence, his eyes dancing from side to side, never landing on Yoongi’s.
He’s anxious, Yoongi can tell, and honestly, Yoongi felt restless too when he saw Namjoon standing at his door minutes ago, but they both have no grounds to be awkward in each other’s presence, so Yoongi tries to recollect himself and take over their talk, like the adult he is.
“Listen, Nam-”
“Are you still coming to my wedding?”
They speak up at the same time, and suddenly the air is tense. Skeletons in their closets which they never talked about abruptly come out and their bones are scattered all over Yoongi’s floor. Silence is loud, and words are stuck in the back of their tongues. Yoongi wants to say something, but he can’t. If he opens his mouth now, nothing pleasant is going to get out of it, so he stays silent, and he lets his monsters do the talk in his place.
Next to him, Namjoon adjusts his glasses and turns off his e-cigarette. He takes a long breath, tugs at his cravat and loosens it up. Even though he’s sitting right in the centre of Yoongi’s chaotic flat, among trash and dust, smoke and ash, Namjoon still looks like some kind of fable prince.
Of course.
Namjoon takes good care of his skin and his style. He always wear the latest pieces of damn Gucci or something, and his attractive face already appeared on several local magazines for promos and such. He has the time and the money to pamper himself, and so he does it, it’s not like he’s doing something to be blamed for.
However Yoongi can’t help but think, it hasn’t always been like this.
Namjoon didn’t have it easy from the start, just as Yoongi himself. He planted his own money tree, building his fortune from the ground up, and he did it amazingly. He patiently grew his lemons, since his life didn’t give them to him for free, and he squeezed them to their very last drop, so he could make himself the tastiest lemonade.
And was that lemonade refreshing.
As soon as Namjoon finished studying and joined his first agency as a simple salaryman, people all around him immediately noticed his high-leveled communicative skills and his perseverance. It has not been long before Namjoon claimed the leadership of that same society with his own abilities, and then started moving from group to group, conquering them all with his dimpled smiles and his noxious tongue.
Now he’s one of the most successful marketing CEOs out there, living the best of his life in his thirties.
But everything that glitters is not always gold.
When Namjoon’s poor background became known by the public a few months ago, alongside his sexuality, his fame received a heavy blow. And then, Jimin came into the picture, ruining his image further. If Namjoon hasn’t stumbled in any scandal yet, that’s because he as hotheaded as a mule, and he isn’t keen on giving up on the things he’s worked hard to obtain.
Yoongi admires him, he really does, but at the moment he just wishes Namjoon gets the hell out of his house as soon as possible and leaves him alone with his misery.
“Yeah, I told you I will already,” Yoongi reprises. “You didn’t need to come here and remind me of that. My memory is still working, I’m not that old yet.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “I didn’t visit you only for a reminder, hyung.”
“Then what?”
“I wanted to ask you to be my best man.”
A crack.
“Because, you know, you’ve always been with us,” Namjoon continues. “I wouldn’t have met Jimin if it weren’t for you. If you never asked me to help him, I wouldn’t have fallen- I mean, yeah. You’re the one who made me give him what he needed the most. You-”
“I won’t.”
And it breaks.
Namjoon blinks, clearly dumbfounded. “E-Excuse me, hyung? What did you just say?”
“I won’t,” Yoongi repeats, his tone higher. “Be your best man, I mean.”
“Why?”
Why.
Because Yoongi feels like he’s not supposed to be the sidekick. In Namjoon and Jimin’s love story, he’s the villain and Namjoon’s the hero. Namjoon’s the man who saves the day with his riches, the one who resolves all Jimin’s distresses, and Yoongi is the one who causes them; who used to cause them. Namjoon’s the other side of his coin, the good, shinier one. Namjoon’s the head and Yoongi is the cross. They couldn’t be more different from one another. Namjoon is everything he is not, and Yoongi should hate him, but he doesn’t. He can’t even consider himself Namjoon’s rival: Yoongi can’t remotely match him.
Yoongi is no sidekick of Namjoon, and Namjoon is no hero of Yoongi’s story, so Yoongi is not obliged to be his groomsman.
“I just can’t,” Yoongi replies. “I hope you can understand.”
Namjoon says nothing for a while, keeping his eyes down on Yoongi’s pen, thinking. Namjoon does a lot of that, thinking, adding layer after layer over his reflections.
Yoongi still believes unrefined words are the best words, but Namjoon is a refined man, and yet he’s the best man.
“I thought your troublemaker period was over long ago,” Namjoon resumes. “Why are you playing hard to get right now? Have I ever done something to you? Is this your revenge for some bad thing I did without realizing? Hyung, if I must apologize-”
“Don’t rise your voice inside my house,” Yoongi interrupts him. “And no, you don’t have to excuse you for anything. It’s not you, it’s-”
Jimin.
“It’s me. I’m the one who must apologize, but I still won’t be able to be there for you on that day, not in the way you want me to. I’m truly sorry.”
“Hyung, I-” Namjoon shakes his head, at loss of words. “I want to be completely honest with you.”
Yoongi braces himself: that’s it; that’s the moment Namjoon is going to let him fall deep in his own shit.
“I’ve always been jealous of you.”
Uh?
“Do you remember, you know, college?” Namjoon shrugs. “Man, our flat was a shitty dumpster. We chain-smoked until dawn and we talked about our dreams all the time. I just loved how determinate you were to make a job out of your passion, and I loved even more the fact you always included me in your big projects. We created mixtapes together. We practiced together. We rapped together. It was just you and me, broke fucks trying to survive at our best. But here’s the thing: you burned up so fiercely I’ve become afraid of getting scalded by you, so I stepped aside and I focused on my studies.”
“You stopped spending your free time with me,” Yoongi considers. “I thought you got tired of me.”
“I was intimidated,” Namjoon corrects him. “How could I have gotten tired of you? Your speeches were so fervent, I could’ve listened to you talking all day and I still wouldn’t have had enough. You were incredible. You are incredible. I really did look up to you, and I’m sorry I made you believe I abandoned you. This jealousy of mine ruined it all. If I hadn’t decided to study economy, if I had managed to fall in love with my job, maybe things would’ve been different now. But this is how it went and I- I apologize. I love you, hyung. You’re important to me. I wish you could forgive me one day.”
Yoongi is astonished. Out of the many scenarios he made up in his mind while Namjoon talked to him, he believed this one to be the farthest from the reality. Namjoon, jealous of him. Yoongi would like to ask him why; why would a man as victorious as Namjoon be jealous of a loser like him? It’s not like Namjoon lacks of zeal, he has plenty of it, but still-
He’s jealous. Of Yoongi’s passion.
Yoongi hardly trusts his ears.
“Namjoon-ah, you’re my best friend,” Yoongi says, his tongue making out words on his own. “I cherish our friendship, and I swear I didn’t mean to disappoint you, but-”
“You can’t,” Namjoon finishes for him, nodding to himself. “I get it. I couldn’t change your mind.”
“Don’t take it personally. I’m the problem here. I have limits I can’t surpass.”
“You surpassed them all already,” Namjoon hastily stands up and throws one last glance at Yoongi’s pen. “Well, I guess Jimin is not going to be happy about your choice, but we will be waiting for you nonetheless. You’re going to come to my bachelor party, I suppose?”
“Yeah, of course I will.”
Namjoon forces himself to smile at Yoongi, and Yoongi flinches. He hates nothing more than fake smiles.
“Then I can’t wait for the weekend to come,” Namjoon says. “I want to get wasted with you and the other hyungs like we used to.”
Yoongi assures him they’re going to have a great time together, and then he accompanies Namjoon to the door. He watches the younger step into his BMW, shoving one of his stupid lollipops in his mouth, and wave him goodbye. Yoongi stands by the entrance until Namjoon’s car disappears from his sight.
Now there’s only one cigarette left in the ashtray. It smells like smoke and rotten cherries Namjoon’s e-cig left behind.
The beginning of the fall happened sometime around the start of the new year, a number of days after Taehyung’s birthday.
It’s a quarter past midnight, and scattered pieces of moonlight are spread all over Namjoon’s face, who’s sleeping soundly right next to him. They always put their beds together when they plan to spend the night watching movies on their cable TV, but today has been different.
Namjoon came out to him a few hours ago.
He revealed to Yoongi he’s afraid, that he’s scared of people’s judgment and that he’d rather die than tell his parents. His sister already knew, but she also suggested him to keep this secret to himself, and Namjoon complied.
“She thinks I can just stick up to the opposite gender and get away with it,” he explained to Yoongi. “But that’s not how it works. Hyung, I- I can’t control it. I can’t decide the gender of the person I fall in love with, and if this person happens to be- What if they’re not a girl? What do I do?”
Yoongi didn’t have an answer back then, and he was no good with words, so he simply tried to comfort him by patting his back and letting him rest on his shoulder. He silently cried with Namjoon until he fell asleep, and now he’s watching his broad chest rising and deflating in tune with his deep breaths.
The way to the top is intricate for people like him and Namjoon. Climbing the ladder of success isn’t an easy task, when you constantly feel like someone is cutting off steps under your feet. Him and Namjoon could only count on each another, and that’s the reason why Yoongi is so fond of him. Their brotherhood may not be by blood, but it is stronger than any other familiar relationship they have. No one could come between them, they-
A thud, and Yoongi feels like his heart skipped a beat.
Yoongi hurriedly leans on his elbows and rises up from the bed. He looks around the room, cautious and worried. He’s sure of what he heard, and he’s sure he heard someone walking down the corridor just now. He also thinks he’s seen a shadow creeping in the hallway and he’s listened the doorstep screeching only a few seconds ago.
Fuck.
Him and Namjoon must’ve forgotten to secure the door before going to sleep, and their neighborhood is well known to be target of burglars during nighttime.
Yoongi shakes Namjoon by an arm, but he keeps snoozing off as peacefully as a baby. Yoongi has nothing left to do but gather up his nerves in both hands and grab his guitar to use just in case he needs to smash some criminals.
They walked in the wrong flat, those bastards.
Yoongi’s about to make his way out of the bedroom when his toes get tangled in the wires of the television and almost stumbles to the floor. He doesn’t know how he’s managed to stay upright until he looks down at his feet and notices an arm wrapped securely around his waist. Someone is holding him. Someone is fucking holding him and that someone isn’t Namjoon.
Yoongi opens his mouth to scream, but the intruder’s quick to shove a hand over his lips.
“Seems like now we’re even, sugar.”
The stranger giggles, and Yoongi swears he’s already heard that voice somewhere. He has.
“Did I scare you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
The intruder put his hand away and finally Yoongi’s free to turn around to face him. Devious smile and big, angelic eyes. Tight jeans and a plain dark turtleneck sweater, black from head to toe, except for his plump, pinkish lips. Peach head and rosy cheeks.
“Jimin.”
Jimin winks at him and Yoongi expects Jimin to owe him some sort of explanation right away, but he says nothing, as if it were perfectly normal for him to be there, in Yoongi’s room at midnight.
Jimin lets go of his waist and immediately goes for Yoongi’s guitar, tearing it away from Yoongi’s grip. “How cute,” he comments. “Were you going to serenade me with this one?”
“Actually, I was about to crush your skull. Doesn’t sound that cute to me,” Yoongi points out. “And why are you here in the first place? Have you come to rob me?”
Jimin grins, but refrains himself from laughing, as he’s probably seen Yoongi’s roommate sleeping in the back of the room. “No, robbery isn’t my thing, really,” he says, his smirk never leaving his pretty mouth. “But you must do something for your awful security system. Sneaking in has been way too easy.”
“How did you do that?”
Jimin pats his right leg, and that’s the moment Yoongi notices some kind of garter attached to his thigh and a sharp looking knife hanging on it. “A pink handle?” Yoongi grimaces at the sight of the blade, but its color is too questionable for Yoongi to keep his sassy tongue quiet about it. “Man in black was too cliché for you?”
“It’s for aesthetic,” Jimin simply replies.
“Aesthetic, he says,” Yoongi repeats, rising his brows. “You broke into my house with a pink knife for aesthetic. I see, makes absolutely sense.” He shakes his head, finding the whole situation just unbelievable. “Jokes aside, why are you here?”
“You left your leather jacket at mine some nights ago,” Jimin tells him, tipping his chin toward the couch in the kitchen. “I wanted to return it, and possibly have a quickie.”
Yoongi stands on his tiptoes to see beyond Jimin’s head and he catches a glimpse of his black jacket resting on the arm of the sofa. Lucky him. He’s been missing his jacket, but he didn’t really have the time to go back at Jimin’s to pick it up. He still finds Jimin’s unforeseen visit creepy and definitely out of line, however he’s made him a favor and Yoongi surely isn’t an ungrateful bastard.
Yoongi closes the bedroom’s door behind his back and guides Jimin to the kitchen. The flat is basically a rat’s nest, as he’s composed only by three rooms, the kitchen being the biggest of them, and it is so messy Yoongi doesn’t know how the heck he’s supposed to make Jimin accommodate himself there.
He asks Jimin if he wants something to drink, but he shakes his head. “I don’t have much time left, I have stuff to do later,” he says.
“But it’s half past midnight,” Yoongi feebly replies. “What do you have to do at this hour?”
“Stuff,” Jimin insists.
Yoongi gets the clue and doesn’t pressure him to speak up. If Jimin doesn’t want to talk about it, he must have his reasons, and Yoongi doesn’t need to know them. He doesn’t even particularly crave to get to know them in the first place, as a matter of fact.
“Well,” Yoongi clears his throat, feeling uneasy with the silence which has settled between the two of them. “Are you sure you’re not thirsty?”
Jimin rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “Forget about the drinks already and let’s skip to the good part, okay?”
“What makes you believe I want to have a quickie with you right now, Jiminie? I’m exhausted, and my roommate is right next door.”
Jimin glances at him, and before Yoongi can ask him why he’s making that face at him, Jimin stands up from the chair on which he was sitting and makes a run for the other side of the table, where the couch is. “No quickie, no jacket,” he threatens Yoongi, putting himself between him and the damn jacket.
Yoongi rolls his eyes; he must’ve predicted this stupid behavior coming from Jimin. Beautiful, but so bratty Jimin. “Are you serious? Come on, peachy. I’m too tired for your shit.”
“But we had so much fun some nights ago,” Jimin persists. “Don’t you remember what we did? How good it felt?”
Truth is, Yoongi does not, in fact, remember. He remembers nothing that happened after Taehyung’s birthday party. There’s a blank space between the moment he stepped inside Jimin’s house and the morning following, but the trail of empty, poor quality wine bottles he found in the living room before he left gave him a vague clue.
Yoongi doesn’t know how the hell a few supermarket’s wine bottles got him so wasted. Something still feels off about it.
It hasn’t been Yoongi’s first drunken one-night stand, but it has been the first one he doesn’t remember at all. He doesn’t recall anything about the ‘fun’, and his lack of memoirs really bothered him when he woke up in the morning, making the whole hookup thing pointless for him. He didn’t get to bear in mind Jimin’s naked body, his touches and his kisses, but somehow, he knew that wouldn’t have been the last time he saw Jimin. Maybe he subconsciously left his jacket there for that specific purpose, but he can’t truly tell.
Yoongi wants to remember.
“So I get to keep the jacket?” Jimin teases him. “Good for me, I really needed a new one.”
Yoongi stretches out his hands and firmly grabs Jimin from his hips. Jimin doesn’t even try to squirm into Yoongi’s clasp, he just knowingly smiles at him and wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck. Jimin is still so warm, but his gaze is deadly cold. Yoongi would love to ignite the same flicker which fired Jimin up during their time inside the dressing room.
Jimin doesn’t ask for permission before he takes it. He leans in Yoongi’s space and nuzzles his lips with his own, not actually pressing them on Yoongi’s mouth yet. He provokes Yoongi for a while before he tilts Yoongi’s jaw up and kisses him, deeply and languidly. Yoongi lets him have his way around his lips, not complaining when Jimin bites his arch to make him open up his mouth. Jimin’s tongue meets Yoongi’s halfway, and as soon they interlace with each other, Jimin moans.
Yoongi is scratching Jimin’s walls with his piercing when Jimin suddenly pushes him back, interrupting their make-out session. He laughs at Yoongi’s perplex expression, and that’s the moment Yoongi finally sees it: the sparkle inside his eyes.
Yoongi’s about to question him what he’s trying to do when Jimin sprints toward the other side of the table, telling him to catch him if he can. Jimin’s playing his jokester card again, Yoongi can tell. Jimin wants to rile him up, and Yoongi wonders which part of his “I’m too tired for your shit” he didn’t get. Yoongi’s not into the game, but Jimin keeps running around the table to escape his clutches, unaware of Yoongi’s rising restlessness.
Yoongi chases Jimin until he manages to seize his waist. Yoongi hastily shoves Jimin against the edge of the table, pinning a knee between Jimin’s legs to make him stop moving so fucking much. When his knee inadvertently strokes Jimin’s crotch, Yoongi notices he’s rock hard. How, Yoongi has no idea, as they’ve been basically playing the whole time, but it’s not like he can pretend he hasn’t felt it. He has to do something about it, to make up for Jimin’s good act.
He lightly pats one of Jimin’s leg, urging him to raise it up and allow Yoongi to lift him. Yoongi drops Jimin on the table and he tosses away the load of utensils stocked up behind Jimin’s back, freeing as much space as possible. He doesn’t care about the dishes and the glasses which have broken down in a million little pieces when he’s shoved them off the table; he doesn’t care about the scattering noises and the possibility of accidentally waking Namjoon. He doesn’t care about anything when Jimin grabs him from both sides of his head and hurriedly presses his lips on Yoongi’s.
Jimin’s kisses are asphyxiating.
Each peck steals his breath away, and soon enough Yoongi find himself getting carried away by Jimin’s eagerness. As Yoongi feels every line of Jimin’s full lips, swirling their tongues together, he lets his hands roam liberally all across Jimin’s back. There are still his marks imprinted on Jimin’s skin, and Yoongi proudly stares at them when Jimin pulls away from him to pant. They showed Jimin’s belonged to him for a while. What wouldn’t he do to water those withering purple flowers and make them bloom again until they ached.
Yoongi stops Jimin’s gasps by pressing close-mouthed kisses on his reddened lips. Once Yoongi shuts his eyes, Jimin tugs at his sweatpants and drops them to his feet. It’s happening, Yoongi realizes. Chills spread all over Yoongi’s lower body, but there’s a specific spot between his hip and his v-line which feels colder than the rest. Yoongi looks down, and out of the blue he freezes.
Jimin’s pointing the blade of his knife directly to his waist. Yoongi can feel its sharpness tingling the skin just above his boxers, and if seconds ago he felt cold, now he’s burning up so badly he’s fucking melting. Fear or excitement, he doesn’t really know how to call it. Jimin’s stepped his game up, and Yoongi’s not sure he can handle the intensity of it.
“What are you doing, peach head?” Yoongi breathlessly asks him. “You know, playing with knives is dangerous.”
“Oh, I know damn well,” Jimin replies, a crooked smile painted on his abused mouth. “My job is dangerous, so I need a dangerous weapon to protect myself with.”
“What’s your job, Jimin?”
“Come on, don’t turn me off now,” Jimin says, slowly shoving the blade inside Yoongi’s waistband. “Things just started to become interesting.”
Yoongi doesn’t move, he barely manages to catch a gulp of air before Jimin pushes the knife deeper into his boxers and then rips them open with a single flick of his wrist. Jimin giggles as he helps Yoongi to peel off the remains of his pants, and he praises Yoongi for being a good boy, just for him.
Yoongi’s never felt so afraid and yet so aroused at the same time before.
Jimin’s icy fingertips traces Yoongi’s half-spent cock from the base to the tip. His touch is soft as he trails his digits up and down his length, stroking him at a quick pace. When Jimin wraps his whole hand around his shaft, Yoongi tilts his head back and lets out a low groan. He’s starting to feel himself growing harder in Jimin’s hold, but the blade pressed against his skin is still taunting him. He has to get rid of it somehow.
Yoongi yanks off Jimin’s stiff sweater, exposing his abs. His navel piercing has changed; Jimin has traded the old steel ring with a hot pink one, and Yoongi can’t help but laugh at his gaudiness. Jimin must’ve understood what Yoongi finds so entertaining in his body, and he shushes him by kicking his shins. Yoongi’s quick to react, as he tightens his grab around Jimin’s tiny waist and he pushes him off the table, forcing him to bend over it.
Dumbfounded, Jimin drops his knife just like Yoongi wanted, and Yoongi swiftly kicks it away, where Jimin can’t reach. Jimin whines as Yoongi fiddles his fingers around the beads of his piercing, and he screams when Yoongi applies the right pressure on it.
“Shit, hyung-” Jimin wiggles his hips into Yoongi’s grip. “Give it to me. Now.”
“I thought you didn’t have enough time for this,” Yoongi teases him.
“My thighs,” Jimin rebuts. “Fuck my thighs.”
Jimin doesn’t have to beg for it twice.
Yoongi hastily shoves down his black jeans and his briefs, revealing Jimin’s perky ass. He smacks it one time before he positions himself between Jimin’s legs. Jimin’s inner thighs are a bundle of strong, toned muscles and they wrap up his cock up perfectly. They’re even warmer than Jimin’s hands, and Yoongi just adores the way his velvety body hair tickle him all over.
Jimin clamps his legs around Yoongi’s length, and as he sticks his ass out, meeting Yoongi’s hips, Yoongi sees the stars. It feels like a hug. Yoongi feels like he’s being enveloped in a nice, smooth embrace. And the rubs, God, those sweet, sweet rubs. Rubbing his cock between those walls feels so goddamn incredible, Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with himself.
But apparently Jimin does.
Once Yoongi’s securely settled, Jimin starts moving back and forth, letting Yoongi have a good scrub. It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to syncopate his thrusts with Jimin’s, rapidly getting the hang of it. Without lube the friction is insanely dry, and it almost hurts. Yoongi has no choices but slip out of Jimin’s thighs for a second and spread his own precum from the tip to his entire shaft, trying to make it as wet as possible. Jimin patiently waits for him, his legs semi-closed and his chin propped on his hands. He would look pretty cute, if it wasn’t for his obscene position, his bare back completely presented to Yoongi on a silver plate.
“Loosen up for me,” Yoongi urges him, and Jimin obeys.
As soon as Jimin parts his thighs, Yoongi slides in right away. That’s it, Yoongi thinks, as he moves forward to pound into Jimin mercilessly, hard and fast. That’s slippery enough, just like how he wants it, steamy and slick.
Yoongi reaches out for Jimin’s untouched cock and he holds it in one hand, slowing down his rams to take a better grip on it. Jimin arches is back as Yoongi starts stroking him up and down, and he loudly moans when Yoongi runs his thumb over his glans.
“More, hyung,” Jimin yells. “Give me more.”
Yoongi abruptly stops and glides out Jimin, bending down to pick up the knife Jimin’s dropped next to the table. He makes sure Jimin doesn’t have the time to turn his face before he manages to slip back in, and once he does, Yoongi points the knife at his throat.
This time around, Jimin’s the one who suddenly blanks out.
“Don’t,” Yoongi threatens him. “Don’t fucking scream. I told you Namjoon’s two feet away.”
Jimin gulps, and Yoongi can feel it all through the blade. He feels Jimin’s neck expanding as he swallows, he feels the pulses in his veins and each one of his breaths. The deeper he presses, the faster they become. He’s controlling it. Yoongi’s controlling Jimin’s lungs. He could- Hell, he could cut through his skin and make him bleed helplessly, force him to submit, just like that.
And then, guilt takes over his mind, like a flood.
What is he doing, wielding a knife toward someone’s neck? Jimin’s neck, moreover? Why is he feeling like he could own the fucking world in this very moment? Why is he- Why is he taking pleasure in all of this?
Yoongi has no excuses for himself. He’s turning into someone he doesn’t know. He’s turning into a monster, someone to be afraid of.
Yoongi’s starting to become afraid of himself.
“Fuck,” Jimin whimpers, distracting him. “N-Namjoon you said? That’s your roommate’s name?”
Yoongi jolts, not expecting such a calm response from Jimin. “How are you still talking?” he asks him, astonished.
“Why? You thought you killed me?” Jimin softy laughs. “The blade isn’t even touching my skin. You need to work harder if you want to get rid of me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Yoongi says. “Aren’t you scared?”
Jimin stays quiet for a brief time, and then he shakes his head. “I am not,” he simply replies. “You would never hurt me, not even if I asked for it.”
Realizations hits Yoongi fast, and his arms go limp at the rebound. It takes a moment for him to get himself together, and it takes even less to throw the knife away and get lost in Jimin all over again.
Jimin turns his jaw to him and he curls his lips, asking for a kiss. Yoongi’s no one to deny him, so he gives him what he wants. He gives Jimin all he has to offer, a naked, slightly cracked soul.
Jimin’s the first to resume their half-done deed, lightly pushing his ass against Yoongi’s crotch. Yoongi joins him right away, settling his strokes at a swift speed, and he lets his hands lower to cup Jimin’s sacks. He finds them soft but fuzzy, just like peaches. He squeezes them, waiting for the juice which Jimin make drip only when Yoongi brings his fingers to his tip and he traces down the outline of the string that connects his head to the rest of his shaft.
Jimin violently trembles as Yoongi flicks that specific piece of flesh from side to side, until he clusters his legs and comes all over Yoongi’s hand with a low, husky cry.
The pressure is overwhelming, too much for him to handle. As soon as Jimin quivers, Yoongi feels his own climax approaching, and it totally takes him by surprise when Jimin closes his legs around his cock one last time. He lets it go, cumming right between Jimin’s thighs without notice.
They ride out of their orgasms in silence, both too breathless to let out any sound at the moment. In that complete absence of noises, just next door, Namjoon’s still snoring. The silence amplifies the vibrations, making it seems like Namjoon’s roaring.
Jimin turns to face Yoongi, and once their eyes meet, they both burst out laughing.
“Well, that’s the fun I was looking for,” Jimin says, recomposing himself by grabbing one of the towel which Yoongi’s dropped on the floor and wiping off the sticky mess between his legs. “Thank you, hyung. You met my expectations and didn’t fail me. Good job.”
Yoongi watches Jimin as he puts his clothes back on. Firstly his pants, then he adjusts his sweater, and then he moves to his jeans. Tight. Too fucking tight clothes. Yoongi could make out every line of Jimin’s defined abs, even the veins of his neck hidden by the turtleneck, if he focuses. Yoongi also wonders how the fuck Jimin’s ass fits in those skinny jeans.
“Do you always dress like this?” Yoongi asks him before he can stop himself. He’s just too curious.
“Like this how? Flashy and froufrou?” Jimin replies, and Yoongi finds himself nodding absentmindedly. “No way. I dress up only when I have to work, to attract attentions, men’s mainly’,” he replies then. “We know how men are, don’t we? They see a pretty face, a big butt and they lose their minds. It’s so easy to fool them. As men ourselves, we can tell. Right?”
Yoongi catches Jimin’s subtle critic directed to him, but he doesn’t lose his cool.“Again, your job is…?”
Jimin pouts and crosses his arms. “Not telling you.”
“Well, am I allowed to make theories about it at least?”
“What do you think I am?”
Yoongi takes a good look at him, and only one thought pops out in his head. “A prostitute.”
Jimin widens his eyes, but then laughs Yoongi’s idea off. “Yeah, sure. Me, a prostitute.” He shrugs. “If that’s what you want to believe, it’s fine by me.”
“I take it as a no,” Yoongi says, and Jimin doesn’t retorts. He just puts his knife back on the garter and makes a straight line to the doorstep.
“Don’t tell Taehyung I was here,” it’s the last thing Jimin says before he waves him goodbye and gets out of his flat, going away as he’s arrived, unannounced.
Yoongi stands there, by the table, still not quite sure about what’s happened to him tonight. It feels like a dream, as if Jimin hasn’t really been there with him until seconds ago. His citrous smell is already gone, and the only thing he’s left behind is a dirty towel and a numb feeling on Yoongi’s cock.
Oh, and the jacket. Right.
Yoongi pushes his hair back and tries to concentrate on his jacket, picking it up from the arm of the couch. There it is, Jimin’s perfume. The sleeves are still warm, and Yoongi thinks Jimin might’ve worn it before he came to him. He smiles to himself as he overturns the jacket, searching for other traces Jimin might’ve left, but then something makes him instantly drop his stupid grin.
In the inside pocket of his jacket, fifty thousands won and a pack of cigarettes are missing.
Heavy bass boosted, house music reverberating behind the metallic doors.
Yoongi inhales the toxic air lingering around and he immediately feels home. He parks his motorbike in front of the entrance and he loses no time in entering. The bouncer standing by the doors acknowledges him and he lets him in without asking for his ID, as they’ve been basically colleagues for months now.
He quickly goes down the stairs, his eyes wandering on the too-many posters attached on the walls to hide cracks and pieces of plaster which have crumbled down over the years. The dust bunnies accumulated in the corners of the stairways are no joke, but no one actually notices them, since the neon lights come and go every few minutes in the hallway, making it impossible for people to see beyond their own nose while going down.
It’s dark, it’s dirty and it’s loud, but for Yoongi, it’s still home.
Yoongi’s been frequenting that vilified music club located somewhere in the undergrounds of his University’s campus for a while now.
He’s free to perform his songs there, even though no one pays him to do so. He could be anyone’s jukebox, but still, he wouldn’t ask for any coin. He only needs to bring over his USB drive, connect it to the speakers and let music do its magic. Sometimes he raps, sometimes he doesn’t. His primary concern is to make his songs known by the public, doesn’t matter how small or venomous it is.
The music industry is one hell of a ride to get into, but Yoongi knows his way around by now.
Usually Taehyung would stick to his side during his performances, but tonight he’s no where in sight. He hasn’t responded to his messages, which is a first for Yoongi. Taehyung always replies to him, even if Yoongi calls him in the late hours of the night when he’s drunk and alone. They need to talk, but Yoongi doesn’t really know what they need to talk about.
He shakes his thoughts away and goes straight for the counter, where Hoseok’s busy pouring drinks for a couple of girls who giggle to themselves as Hoseok winks at them. Yoongi raises a hand, and as soon as Hoseok notices him, he flashes him his biggest smile.
“Back for some more?” Hoseok asks him, and Yoongi nods. Hoseok bends down the counter, and when he reemerges, he’s holding the keys Yoongi needs to start the speakers. “Go get’em, rap king,” he adds, and Yoongi thanks him before he heads for the stage.
Hoseok is one-of-a-kind type of friend.
They haven’t been acquainted for long, but Yoongi would define him a close friend of his nevertheless. Their first meeting hasn’t been exactly a good one, since Hoseok threw a glass of wine all over Yoongi’s white shirt, thinking he was trying to get into his sister’s pants the very first night Yoongi visited the club, but they cleared up the misconception right away, with Yoongi yelling to Hoseok that he was just asking her where the stage was and he wasn’t interested in any of his straight drama shit.
Hoseok is now his trusty bartender and his favorite teacher. Yoongi and Namjoon couldn’t believe their eyes the first time they saw Hoseok hit the dance floor and breakdancing the hell out of some newbies who dared to challenge him during one of the buskers’ performance. Asking him to train them has been the next step to solidify their relationship, and Hoseok made sure Yoongi and Namjoon didn’t look like complete idiots gesturing senselessly on the stage.
Yoongi couldn’t be anything but particularly attached to him, just like he is to Namjoon.
From the stage, Yoongi can clearly see him working restlessly behind the counter, so he doesn’t bother him while he plugs the USB in and switches the microphone on. He taps the head of the prop one time before he leans in and coughs to catch the attention of the audience.
There aren’t many people in the room; they’re around twenty at most. The club is half empty, and even though the lack of ears are bad for his future plans, he’s glad he hasn’t to rap in front of too many eyes. Tonight he’s here just to blow off some steam and have fun, and that’s pretty much it.
He doesn’t introduce himself before he starts singing. When the base is on, the only thing he can think about is, I have to do well, I have to make them enjoy my performance. His goal is to send those people home with tears in the corner of their eyes and fire streaming down their blood. He has to make them cry, he has to make them reflect, he has to make them angry. He knows he’s got the talent to move people’s heart with his words, but that’s not enough for him. He wants to crave those hearts out of their chests and watch them bleed for him.
In order to do so, he has to dig a tunnel directed to their thoracic cavity. He has to pave a way throughout their ears, make his own voice flow down their throats and expand inside their lungs. That’s how he can stabilize a connection between himself and all of those strangers in front of him, mingle every single breath into one.
Music is the strongest rope, and Yoongi knows how to tie it around someone’s neck without actually hurting them. Right now, Yoongi is the puppet master who’s pulling everyone’s strings, moving them on his accord.
With his gaze he chooses one of the guys standing in the middle of the club and he calls out for him. The guy’s wearing a black mask and his hoodie covers up his hair, but by the way he moves, Yoongi can tell his feelings. He’s fidgety, like a beast closed in a cage, trying to overcome his nervousness by dancing it off. He’s here to show off his power, not to entertain those who’ve secluded him. He’s young, he’s wild, and he’s free. Yoongi’s the one who stripped him out of the chains he’s been carrying, and Yoongi cannot be not proud of what he’s done to him. For him.
He’s the only one dancing in the room, spotlights on him. He doesn’t give a fuck about the other’s stares and their whispers, he keeps kicking and popping like nobody’s business. His leg moves are stiff, contrasting the elegant figures he’s drawing in the air, stronger than a lion, and yet as graceful as a crane.
And then, the climax.
Yoongi’s voice is raspy as he keeps pumping words out his mouth. They become faster as they advance towards the end, and Yoongi, eyes on his target, sees the guy suddenly removing his hoodie and tossing it on the floor, remaining in tank top and naked emotions.
That fierceness.
Yoongi’s already seen it somewhere, as well as those bright orange hair and that round, perky-
Jimin. Again.
He’s a fucking menace. He’s always there. He’s everywhere. And right now, he’s marking Yoongi’s territory.
Once the base is off, Yoongi winds down. He puts his microphone back on its original place and he steps off the stage, not really minding the claps he’s receiving. Something else is currently fogging up his focus, and he couldn’t care less about the elegies of those lazybones he’s sung for.
He regrets coming here so much now.
Hoseok makes a gesture to him, inviting him over the bar. Yoongi blindly follows his direction and drops the keys of the speakers on the counter, asking for a shot of whiskey right away.
“I’m sorry, hyung,” Hoseok says, however, shoving off the keys before him and replacing them with an already full glass. “This kid here has ordered a bottle of rum for both of you.”
At Hoseok’s statement, Yoongi snaps his head to his left side and he finds him there, seated next to him. Jimin’s putted his hoodie back on, but he isn’t wearing his mask anymore. Yoongi can see him smile openly at him and watch him with a glint of admiration in the depth of his eyes.
Fucking hell. Jimin’s presence has been the last thing he would’ve expected from this night.
“I didn’t take you for a whisky-type of man,” Jimin starts, bringing the edge of the glass to his gleamy lips. “I thought you liked rum better.”
“How would you know?” Yoongi says. “It’s not like we’re drinking buddies or something.”
“Fuck buddies is still good enough.”
Yoongi hasn’t even started drinking his rum and he’s already feeling nauseous. He looks up at Hoseok, hoping he hasn’t heard what Jimin just said. Luckily for him, Hoseok’s far away from them, working his ass off with a bunch of new costumers.
“Why are you here, peach head?” Yoongi asks Jimin. “This place isn’t made for pretty faces like yours.”
Jimin’s reply is as logical as unexpected: “I wanted to see you perform.”
“How?” Yoongi shakes his head, dumbfounded. “How did you know where I busk?”
“Taehyung plays here too, doesn’t he? I’ve come here several times already, to cheer him up before his performances.” Jimin says, and honestly, Yoongi should’ve predicted this. What he couldn’t have predicted, however, it’s what comes next: “I make the best deals out here.”
“Deals?” Yoongi frowns. “What kind of deals?”
Yoongi’s aware Jimin isn’t going to answer him, so he doesn’t get upset when Jimin changes the subject in his favor. “Your music is amazing, hyung,” he says. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the one who wrote those lyrics. That’s how close they are to me. What inspires you, if you can tell me?”
Yoongi sighs. He’s not sure he wants to have this conversation right now, but Jimin isn’t giving him any other choice. “I just want to talk about youth’s problems,” he lazily responds. “It’s silly, really. Never mind.”
“Never mind,” Jimin repeats. “Is that your song’s name?”
“Mh, I guess,” Yoongi mumbles. “I don’t actually name my songs, but if that songs feels like Never mind to you, then you can call it Never mind.”
Jimin rises his brows. “Well, that’s strange,” he comments. “But it is just so you, I can’t complain.”
“So, that time in the rink… It wasn’t your first time seeing me, I assume.”
“Not at all,” Jimin quickly replies. “I had my eyes on you since ages ago. You’re quite a catch, aren’t you? Wearing all those expensive accessories on stage…”
“Expensive?”
What the fuck.
Yoongi points the fraud Rolex he’s wearing with his chin. “This shit is fake, you know.”
“I knew,” Jimin rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “When I visited your flat, I knew.”
“You thought I was rich?” Yoongi keeps demanding him. “This is why you approached me?”
“Yeah,” Jimin simply admits. “Yeah, that’s mainly the reason why.”
“Fucking great,” Yoongi gulps down his rum and avoids Jimin’s bothered stare. “Well, now that you know I’m poor, why the hell are you still here?”
“We could become partners.”
Jimin’s abrupt suggestion makes Yoongi jerk. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, we could start our own traffic and split the pay, all by ourselves,” Jimin continues, but Yoongi can’t quite understand what he’s trying to say. “You’re smart. I am too. We could make tons of money together.”
“Forget it,” Yoongi says, cooling him off. “I don’t want to get involved in your ‘traffic’ or whatever that means. I want to graduate and work.” Jimin’s about to interrupt him, but Yoongi’s faster: “Legally,” he adds.
Jimin seems torn for a brief minute, then he speaks up: “You aren’t fooling anyone, Min Yoongi. You crave power. The whole knife thing, yesterday night… I could tell that’s what you want.”
“Yeah, back to yesterday night,” Yoongi starts again, seizing the opportunity. “Where the fuck are my money?”
Jimin blinks. “Your money?”
“Don’t act dumb,” Yoongi urges him. “You took the money I left in the pocket of my jacket. And a pack of cigarettes too.”
“Ah, those stuff,” Jimin says, while shoving a hand in his jeans’ back pockets and taking out a pack of Marlboros. Yoongi’s Marlboros. “Here you go. Don’t be pissed at me now, okay?”
Yoongi looks down at the pack of cigarettes Jimin’s offering him -his own fucking pack of cigarettes- and grumbles. “Are you serious? The cigarettes are the lesser evil here, I need my money back,” he complains. “My parents sent me those to do the grocery, to feed me. What am I supposed to eat, if I don’t have enough money to buy food?”
Jimin puts a mortified look on, the corner of his full lips down and his droopy eyes sadder than ever. “I’m sorry, I can’t do anything about your money now,” he says, and Yoongi should be furious, but he can’t bring himself to scream at Jimin. He just can’t.
“Did you spend them all already?”
“Not exactly,” Jimin replies. “I exchanged them.”
“What?”
In that exact moment, Jimin’s gaze suddenly lights up, as he’s just had an idea. A genial one. “I can’t do anything about your money, hyung,” he repeats. “But I can do something about your hungriness.”
Yoongi cautiously waits for Jimin’s next move. He watches Jimin looking around, making sure no one’s watching them, and then taking another pack out of his back pockets. This time, the pack is a transparent envelope, but at first glance, Yoongi can’t tell what’s the white stuff at the bottom-
Wait.
“Are those pills?” Yoongi shockingly notices. “What the fuck are those pills?”
Jimin shushes him by placing a finger on his lips. “Don’t yell, hyung. Do you want to get caught?”
“What the fuck are those, Jimin,” Yoongi insists, his heart racing and his hands sweating. “Tell me.”
“Chill pills,” Jimin jokes. Yoongi can tell he’s joking. There’s no way those are chill pills. His downers surely don’t look like that. “These will calm your needs for a while.”
“Yeah, very assuring,” Yoongi says, spitting sarcasm. “I don’t want your pills, Jimin. Take them yourself.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Do it, then.”
And Jimin does.
Before Yoongi can do or say anything, Jimin picks up a pill and he pops it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Yoongi’s. Yoongi just can’t stop staring at him. Jimin’s beautiful. Too beautiful. His puffy cheekbones, his sharp jawline, his lips, his dancing- He’s perfect.
Jimin may be a dreamboat, but he’s a ‘ride or die’ one, the most dangerous type. It doesn’t matter how careful Yoongi is around him, he knows he’s going to sink with him at some point.
But drifting is so, so sweet in that sea.
Jimin puts both his hands around Yoongi’s neck, and he lets Jimin lean into his space.
If Yoongi keeps his head above water, he’s going to be fine, isn’t he? As long as he doesn’t allow any stream to take his sanity away, he can do this. Right?
Jimin presses his mouth on Yoongi’s, and as soon as they come together, he slips his tongue past Yoongi’s lips. Warmth is replaced by coldness way too soon, the aftertaste of Jimin’s tongue already gone. Acidity invades Yoongi’s mouth, and that’s when he feel it.
The pill.
Jimin’s shoved the pill into Yoongi’s mouth, leaving it on the back of his tongue.
What else can Yoongi do? He swallows it.
As the pill get down his throat, Yoongi breaths. The fire inside his chest is faint, and the cold shower Jimin just gave him weakened it further. He has to breath. He has to take in as much oxygen as possible to alimentate his flames. If Jimin manages to extinguish them, for Yoongi’s game over.
Yoongi really wants to keep playing. This is a rematch, and this time he’s not letting Jimin win. He can’t let him, or else is going to be fucked.
And finally, it explodes.
Red, blue and yellow heavens open up their gates for Yoongi to enter. The club folds back on itself and Yoongi feels like its walls are wrapping him up. He feels protected. Nothing bad could possibly happen to him here. This club is his home, after all.
It lasts a few seconds, nothing more, nothing less.
Yoongi can vaguely hear Hoseok whistling and Jimin’s giggles. Their voices are so high-pitched he can’t stand them, so he tries to put his hands over his ears to refrain those noises from echoing in his brain. Turns out he doesn’t feel sensibility in his touch. He can’t even raise up his arms, as they weight much more than Yoongi can endure.
A violent dizziness strikes him, and suddenly Yoongi feels like vomiting his soul on the floor. He doesn’t know if he’s actually done so, but he can clearly perceive someone holding his head and patting his back. Yeah, he’s just vomited. He definitely did it. His mouth feels like shit and his stomach is throbbing.
Colors become colder, but Yoongi’s burning up. Shadows obscures his vision, and Yoongi can’t distinguish his right from his left anymore. Everything is immersed in a deep purple ocean. His blurred gazes can’t make out the outlines of the things all around him. He tries to grab the edge of the counter in front of him to hold still, but he misses it and stumbles to the floor. Or not. His cheeks are pressed against something soft, so it can’t possibly be the club’s marbled floor.
He doesn’t know.
He doesn’t know anything that’s happening to him.
The club’s walls now seem much closer than before, and Yoongi finds them asphyxiating. Jimin’s laugh has become just a screeching sound which is scratching Yoongi’s eardrums. It’s tearing him apart. The noises, the shadow, the headache-
It’s too much.
It’s too much, it’s killing him.
And then, a bubble pops. Yoongi can breath again, and as soon as he does, he hears a familiar voice close to him.
“What happened to Yoongi?”
It’s Hoseok.
“He drank too much.”
And this is Jimin.
“No way. Your rum’s bottle is still full. Yoongi’s tolerance is much higher than this.”
“I don’t know what to say, hyung. He’s probably intoxicated.”
Hyung?
Jimin ad Hoseok know each other?
A launching pain makes Yoongi crunch, and he can’t catch up with Hoseok and Jimin’s talk anymore. He gets lost between Hoseok’s “you should call Taehyung. He can take care of him,” and Jimin’s “I don’t want to bother him. I can bring Yoongi to mine, we’re going to be fine” and then he closes his eyes.
Behind his eyelids infinite withering trees have grown from the ground up. Yoongi sees snakes and rotten apples all around the branches. Someone is standing under one of those trees and is munching an apple, a golden one. A snake is slowly slithering toward his neck, and Yoongi screams to warn him about the danger, but the boy doesn't turn around. The snake bites him and the guy's skin go livid. Yoongi can do nothing but watch him drop dead in front of his eyes. The golden apple gleams brightly even though there isn't any light shining upon it.
The visions don’t stop there. Instead, they become realer. Monsters exist, and they’re taking him away, outside the club.
He dimly sees his motorbike standing next to the entrance before he gets hauled toward a taxi. The driver’s face is covered in millions of little vicious eyes, and he’s staring at him. He looks like an insect. It’s terrifying. Who’s chosen this fucking taxi? He wants to get out.
He makes a move toward what looks like the handle of the car’s door to him, but someone holds him back right away.
“What are you doing? Do you want to jump off a car in movement?”
Jimin.
Jimin’s never looked more angelic than this. His cheeks are soaked in a dazzling light and his eyes bear the color of ambers, as his hair surround his head like a halo. His touch is warm. He’s so warm Yoongi can’t help but nuzzle his face into his shoulders.
“Jimin,” Yoongi calls out.
“Yeah?” Jimin says, responding to Yoongi’s plea.
“This is hell,” Yoongi manages to let out, and Jimin nods.
“I know.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Black smoke fogs up the window against which Yoongi’s resting his heavy head. The cigarette between his fingers is burning to the filter slowly, mingling with the humidity lingering in the room, as he isn’t taking in any drag.
He doesn’t feel like smoking. He just wants to sniff the ashes his wasted cigarette’s leaving behind in the ashtray and let its scent inebriate him. That husk, thick smell works better than any of his fucking downers when it comes to pacify him on those nights.
His burnt coffee pot is already empty. He’s lost track of how many cups he’s gulped down in one shot till now, but he figures drinking a certain amount of coffee cups is still preferable than chainsmoking.
Sipping espresso next to the window during cold evening like this one is the closest thing to a divine rapture he’s ever experienced, right after sex.
He could swear sometimes he saw God’s face on the bottom of his rusty coffee pot, his eyes pointed on his, judging him. Each of those times, Yoongi broke a mug. Yoongi is by no means a religious man, but he believes in signs.
Seeing God in a coffee pot is a sign he should stop drinking so much, perhaps.
The recording player which has been eating vinyl after vinyl in the background suddenly stops, and the music trails off into a buzzing static noise, disturbing Yoongi’s peace.
Party’s over, time to get back to work.
Yoongi has just entered the studio when he hears thumps. Somebody’s knocking at his door, and that somebody must know Yoongi hates the loud sound of his stupid ring-bell. Just by that insignificant detail, Yoongi can already tell who’s waiting for him behind his doorstep.
As soon as Yoongi opens up, his captivating figure gets him so bad Yoongi almost forgets how to breathe.
It doesn’t matter how many times he sees Taehyung, Yoongi will always have trouble believing such a raw, inhuman beauty actually exists in his ugly, sick world.
Tall, lean legs and a slim shape. Golden framed glasses adorns his round eyes, his long and thick lashes scraping against the clean lenses. The beige coat he’s wearing reaches past his knees, and his black beret matches his expensive-looking moccasins. The strap of his saxophone’s case is hanging from his shoulder and it seems so heavy Yoongi’s first instinct is to lean in to get it off of him, but he swiftly moves away, refraining Yoongi from touching his precious instrument.
Of course. A musician -a serious one- never lets someone else carry his instrument.
“Good evening.”
Shivers run down Yoongi’s spine. Taehyung’s voice always gets the best of him. It hits every bare spot of his soul and it shakes him up from the inside. Its tune is deep and heartfelt. With his placid tone, Taehyung always manages to break down Yoongi’s emotive walls and crave himself a way inside his conscience.
Taehyung is no ordinary man.
His utterly calm mannerisms and his smooth way of speaking could make a hurricane retreat and clear the sky from any turbulence.
Twenty years ago, Yoongi’s younger, child self would have never thought the bubbly kid next door would’ve become one of the most successful solo musicians he’s ever heard of, gifted with the modus operandi of a modern day aesthete.
And the most requested escort in town as well.
“Am i disturbing you, hyung?”
Yoongi shakes his head and steps back to let Taehyung accomodate himself in his living room. His gaze lingers on Taehyung’s firm hands as he takes off his coat and he leaves it hanging on the arm of the sofa. Then Taehyung sits down, and he waits for Yoongi to give him his full attention before he speaks up again.
“Jimin’s told me.”
Straight to the point.
Yoongi loves the fact Taehyung doesn’t sugar coat shit up and knows what to prioritize, but he also hates how easily he drops Jimin’s name in their conversations. As if he weren’t that important for both of them.
And uneasy feeling settles inside Yoongi’s lower stomach and he instantly regrets opening his damn door once again. He really should start learning from his past mistakes.
“He told me you told Namjoon you won’t be their groomsman.”
Another stab right in Yoongi’s guts, but this time around, Taehyung’s twisting the knife deeper into his wound.
“Why, hyung?” Taehyung keeps asking him. “Why did you refuse? I accepted, so I can’t see the reason-”
“You and I are not the same,” Yoongi interrupts him first thing first, already on the defense. “I had my motives to say no and Namjoon understood them. We talked about it, it’s alright now. Why are you bringing this back to me in the first place? It’s none of your business.”
Taehyung stays quiet for a little while, his expression stern, but not concerned at all. Anyone else would have thought Yoongi was being rude just now, but not him. Taehyung knows Yoongi’s upset, and Yoongi knows that he knows it, so neither of them feels attacked by the other.
They’re still good to go.
“It’s my business since I saw Jimin’s mood swirl down like a spiral as soon as he heard you won’t be there for him like he expected,” Taehyung remarks. “He was so happy when Namjoon suggested you as their groomsman alongside me. He even asked Namjoon to get us matching suits, hyung. Matching suits. He really was that excited.”
“Happy, uh? I see.” Yoongi takes a sip from his coffee cup and looks up at Taehyung, shooting him a withering glance. “Good for him, I guess. He’s supposed to be happy on his wedding day. He should be.”
Taehyung’s archaic smile falters a bit. “Of course he is,” he says. “And we, as his and Namjoon’s best friends, must cherish their happiness the most.”
“Taehyung-”
“No, hyung,” Taehyung deadpans. “It doesn’t matter from which side you’re seeing this whole thing, your behavior toward them still isn’t right.”
“So what?”
“So what, hyung? So what?” Taehyung repeats, his façade slowing fading in front of Yoongi and his pitch revealing just a pinch of anger. “So you should call Namjoon right now and tell him you’re going to do it.”
“It would be a waste of time,” Yoongi rebuts. “I’m sure Namjoon’s already asked someone else to be his groomsman in my place.”
“Indeed,” Taehyung confirms. “Hoseok-hyung was so confused when Namjoon went to him, but he accepted nevertheless. Seokjin-hyung was fuming when I updated him about the situation and I had to stop him from coming for your ass. I promised him I would’ve changed your mind before the bachelor party, and you know I always fulfill my promises.”
“Yeah, well… You can tell him I was too into my job to pay you attention,” Yoongi replies. “I don’t want to be the back spot on your perfect record, Taehyung. Just feed him this petty lie and-”
“I won’t.” Taehyung’s voice is imposing, but still not harsh enough to make Yoongi submit to his willingness. “I won’t lie to Seokjin-hyung.”
“You will have to at some point,” Yoongi retorts. “It’s not even a lie, after all. I seriously have work to do. Lots of it.”
Taehyung’s smirks goes up as soon as he hears the word work coming out of Yoongi’s mouth. “That’s what you do best, isn’t it?” he starts. “You immerge yourself in your job to escape, don’t you? When it comes to work, no one bothers you further. They all step back and let you have your way. But you can’t play me. You can’t escape me. I know you too well, isn’t it right?”
Yoongi’s grip tightens around the mug. “What do you want from me, Taehyung?”
“I want you to come back to your senses. I want to meet the Yoongi who cares about his friends from some time ago. Can you do it for me? Please?”
Yoongi’s rigidity crumbles down before Taehyung’s eyes. When they were younger, Yoongi would’ve done anything to please him. If Taehyung’d asked him to give him his heart, Yoongi would’ve tore it from his chest right away and wrap it up in a gift box just for him, making a pretty bow out of his guts.
Everything Taehyung wanted, Yoongi would’ve got it.
But then, he stopped.
Yoongi stopped since the moment Taehyung started getting what he desired with his own money. He wanted a new jacket? He just went binge-shopping downtown and bought whatever caught his eyes until he found the one he was looking for. Hair products and treatments? He got them exclusively from the most expensive saloons around the city. And the galbi from the bbq bistro he absolutely adored? Traded it for lobster from five-starred restaurants uptown.
Yoongi could’ve never get these things for him.
Taehyung, on the other hand, has money to spare, and just like Namjoon, he’s spending them however he wants. Dirtier money, but still sweet, sweet money.
Old Yoongi buried himself under piles of cash which came from that same stack a long time ago and set fire to them, burning to dust and liquid gold. He wasn’t a fucking phoenix. Old Yoongi’s dead for good, and it doesn’t matter how long Taehyung is going to mourn for him, he won’t come back ever again.
“You’re right, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi resumes. “We shouldn’t lie to our friends nor ourselves. We both know I’m not that kind of person, so I will never pretend again starting today.”
Taehyung puts a hand on his chest and breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” Yoongi hears him whispering to himself.
Yoongi picks up the half-spent cigarette resting in his ashtray and brings it over to his lips. He takes in a long drag as he tries his best to grin and make his firm expression look like the one he used to put on when he was younger. A smug, remiss face; the face of someone who’s seen hell with his own eyes and is not afraid of playing with demons.
“This is why I have to tell you, I never cared about you.”
Liar.
“I never cared about your wellbeing.”
He’s a fucking liar.
“Moreover, I used to think you were trouble.”
Yoongi is a fucking liar and a high-caliber hypocrite.
“You were a menace. Couldn’t you see it?” he keeps saying nevertheless. “I hated how you leaned on me like you were sure I would’ve supported you throughout your poor, bad choices. Like if I were fucking proud to have a slut as a close friend of mine.”
And silence.
Drowning in a sudden flood of shame and remorse, Yoongi attempts to smoke his lies away. He can’t see Taehyung’s expression clearly, blurred by the fumes he’s exhaling right in his face, but he can sense his distress. Yoongi could even make out Taehyung’s thoughts quite easily; they’re the loudest noises in the room.
Heard sounds may be dreadful, but those unheard are even more dreadful.
He must be thinking Yoongi’s an asshole, the worst man he’s dealt with. He must be thinking Yoongi’s a lost cause, that he’s to be left alone with his mental issues. He must be thinking their friendship has been based on fakery all along, and more than that, he must be believing every single lie Yoongi just told him.
However, Yoongi can't bring himself to deny what he said.
If he had told Taehyung the truth, Taehyung wouldn’t have left him until he found Yoongi a way out of his mess. Taehyung would’ve insisted on helping him, and in the end he would’ve end up stuck with him forever.
Because there’s no way out for Yoongi. Because Yoongi’s head deep inside his own mistakes and he’s failed to turn his back to his past. Not a single turning point exists for him, but a straight corridor toward a sad and lonely ending.
Instead Taehyung does have a chance.
He’s moved ahead and has accepted the person he’s became. He’s comfortable in his own bruised skin and he’s not ashamed of himself. He’s a strong, adult man with a clear mindset and strong values. He knows who he is, what he wants, where he longs to be, how he’s going to spend the rest of his life.
By involving Taehyung in his chaos, Yoongi would destroy the perfect, ordinated man Taehyung is, cancel all the progresses Taehyung’s made over the past ten years, and in Yoongi’s chaotic word, there isn’t enough space nor time for two broken souls.
When Yoongi gathers up his nerves and looks up at Taehyung, the only thing he can see before his gaze gets abruptly deviated is a tear rolling down Taehyung’s chin.
Yoongi’s right cheek is suddenly on fire and the heaviness of Taehyung’s hand is still lingering on it.
He slapped him.
For the very first time, Taehyung slapped him. He concentred all his strength in his fling and he brutally hit Yoongi across his sorry face.
It burns and stings so good Yoongi’s almost proud of him.
Yoongi opens up his mouth to ask him to do it again, to slap the shit out of him as sharply as he can, but Taehyung’s reaction puts Yoongi’s eagerness for pain to rest. He lays his hands over both sides of his face and forces Yoongi to move forward. Once they’re close enough, Taehyung throws his arms around Yoongi’s neck, enwrapping him in an embrace he can’t escape from.
All Yoongi can do is blink, and as he does so, Taehyung presses his lips over his.
Taehyung’s kiss is wet with tears which have been cascading down his high cheekbones. It’s desperate, it’s angry, it’s devastating. Yoongi blanks out somewhere in between Taehyung’s hot breaths and his fastening heartbeats.
It’s so damn confusing.
Taehyung’s pecks are too feverish for Yoongi to follow them. He does nothing but let Taehyung claim his lips again and again, kiss after kiss, unable to resist.
When Taehyung pulls back and Yoongi has a mere second to realize what just happened, Taehyung slaps his other cheek, hard and decisive.
“Don’t fucking call me a slut ever again,” Taehyung viciously murmurs against his mouth. “Never again.”
Yoongi registers Taehyung’s demand, but Taehyung doesn’t even let him apologize before he jumps at his lips again. Taehyung’s kisses become more frantic as Yoongi starts responding them. Their mouths come in tune easily, finding the perfect match in each other.
If kisses are notes, Yoongi can swear right now, together, they’re making the most beautiful melody they’ve ever composed.
Taehyung is holding on him for dear life, trailing his sharp nails across Yoongi’s back, underneath his shirt. Scratches and tears burn Yoongi’s skin like acid, peeling him alive. There’s nothing Yoongi can do to stop him. Taehyung is all over him, his grasps tight and suffocating, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to let go soon.
Not until he gets what he wants, just like Jimin taught him.
Yoongi shuts his eyes while Taehyung goes down on him, groping his ass. Taehyung’s fingertips must be already bruising his cheeks, as they’re dug deep into them, holding him close, closer than they’ve ever been. He doesn’t really struggle with Yoongi’s sweatpants, shoving them down in just one fluid move, and neither he loses time admiring the bulge tending inside Yoongi’s boxers. He goes straight for it, palming his cock through the thin fabric of his pants and effortlessly managing to rip a groan out of him.
Fuck. Yoongi’s actually getting hard.
Yoongi doesn’t remember the last time he’s slept with someone, but it has definitely been too long anyway. It’s not like he loosed interest in sex over the years, but he hardly found someone able to rile him up how he wanted to. Taehyung, with his big doe eyes and his tender hands, is the only one whose kisses are finally making him feel something in months. Years, actually.
Something warmth, made out of pure adoration.
And yet, there’s a clash which keeps bothering Yoongi; a jar that refrains his mind from fully connect to the heavenly experience his body’s having. The man on his knees before him is too freaking tall, his shoulders wider than Yoongi can handle. His clothes are too elegant, and his glasses are in the way. The shade of his brunette hair is too dark and his sharp eyes are fixed on Yoongi’s. Yoongi hates being watched this close when he’s about to receive a fucking blowjob, but obviously that Taehyung doesn’t know.
It’s wrong.
It feels wrong in so many ways.
“Taehyung…” Yoongi grabs him by the locks of his hair, but as soon as Taehyung moans, he freezes. An electric impulse travels up his arm, and out of the blue, he feels good, so damn good. “Taehyung, please stop.”
He’s not supposed to feel good.
“Taehyung, don’t-”
He’s not supposed to be happy.
“Hyung…” Taehyung’s voice is impregnated with lust, his eyes watery, glossy. Yoongi’s already seen that look on his face before. He’s seen it many times, when he watched Taehyung walking the streets for money.
That’s exactly how Taehyung looked at his clients.
A client.
Taehyung’s treating him like one of his many money-maker toys.
“Stop.”
And Taehyung does.
Taehyung’s hands settle on Yoongi’s waist, his eyes still on Yoongi’s. “What’s wrong?” He asks.
“Everything.”
Taehyung’s gaze seems abruptly brought back to reality, and when he fully witnesses the sight before him, he lets out a distressed whimper. “Hyung, I just-”
“Stand up.”
Taehyung knows better than disobeying Yoongi’s order, so che complies. When he’s on his feet, Yoongi stabilizes him by resting his hand on his shoulder. They stay still for a while, face to face, heart to heart. Taehyung’s fondness hasn’t left his eyes yet, and Yoongi wonders why, how Taehyung keeps up with his antics, when Yoongi himself can’t stand them at all.
How can Taehyung understand him on such an intimate level without feeling his mind exploding under all the pressure Yoongi’s applied on it, for so many years too.
Taehyung really is no ordinary man, after all.
“I can’t, Taehyung,” Yoongi finally manages to say. “Let’s stop here.”
Taehyung’s next question is predictable, but still, Yoongi lets him speak before he explains himself further. He wants Taehyung to voice out his thoughts, even though Yoongi can already hear them.
“And the reason being…?”
“Because it’s not right,” Yoongi replies. “It’s not fair to you, nor to me.”
“How could it be unfair?” Taehyung looks down at Yoongi’s pants as he puts them back on. “I can see you want me. So why? Why are you refusing me?”
“What are you seeing, exactly?” Yoongi asks him. “Are you sure what you’re seeing reflect what I am seeing? ‘Cause I have to let you know, I didn’t like how you were looking at me just now. Like I was one of your horny old man who showers you with their fucking money.”
At this point, Yoongi’s nerves are on edge. He makes a turn for the ashtray to pick up his dyeing cigarette, but his lips barely touch the filter when it gets harshly taken away from him. Taehyung’s tore the cigarette from his grip and he’s thrown it on the floor, stepping on it with his foot to extinguish it.
The flinch of his arm hit the coffee pot and the mug from which Yoongi has been drinking, breaking it in tiny little fragments, but the scattering noises are nothing compared to Taehyung’s screaming voice: “Fucking look at me before you speak, Yoongi!” he yells, as coffee spills all over Yoongi’s carpet. “Before you talk shit about me, you really should take a good look at me.”
Yoongi can’t stop himself as he turns his eyes back on him. He’s fuming, and Taehyung’s thundering voice is still echoing in his ears, maddening and strident. The cotton candy clouds which have been floating inside Taehyung’s stare are now turning grey, and Yoongi can already sense the tempest which’s coming in his way.
And it’s terrifying.
“Is all of this really about my job?” Taehyung keeps wailing, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “Or is something else turning you off? Someone else?”
Yoongi goes rigid for a moment, and Taehyung seizes the chance to corner him and go for his throat.
“I know it, hyung,” he says. “I know you’re still not over Jimin. I swear, I know it. But I can’t give up on you because of him. Wake up once for all, hyung. Can’t you see he’s done? He’s getting married in a week. There’s nothing you can do about it, and neither can I. If I give up on you now, who’s going to take care of you? You only have me. Refusing me… It just doesn’t make any sense.”
Every single word fell out Taehyung’s mouth is a slap in the face. Yoongi’s aware Taehyung is being logical and he’s right about every single thing he said, and yet he can’t do it. He can’t take the rusty keys which Taehyung is offering him to open up the door toward a whole different life. A rich, carefree existence filled with comprehension, mellow music and affection.
He doesn’t deserve it.
After all, Yoongi enjoys being locked up there, inside his messy, one-dimensional world.
“I don’t need your pity, Taehyung,” Yoongi says. “I’m fine. I’m going to be fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“How can you say that?”
“I know you.”
“You don’t know all of me. And I don’t know all of you, as a matter of fact.”
“Then we can spend the rest of our lives knowing each other.”
Yoongi frown. “But why?” he asks. “Why are you willing to do this?”
Taehyung’s burning tears start falling out of his eyes again. To Yoongi, it feels like watching an angel cry and a devil feast at the same time, hell taking the place of something otherwise heavenly. Taehyung really has the beauty of a angel and the mind of a devil. He has so many layers, and Yoongi can’t bring himself to unveil even one of them. If he does so, he is going to reap Taehyung out his protective foam, and Yoongi doesn’t want to cause more damages than he’s already done.
“Why?” Yoongi questions him one last time. “Why are you still here, Taehyung?"
“Because I love you so much.”
And right there, apocalypse raids.
“I love you so fucking much,” Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair nervously. “Buh- But you don’t care. Y-You don’t care at all, not about me, not about anyone else.”
It backfires, and it hurts. It hurts so fucking much, Yoongi is going crazy.
“I-I used to be your world,” Taehyung cries out. “And… And then Jimin came along, and-” He shakes his head. “It became all about him. Jimin here, Jimin there. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. Always him. Every fucking time.”
Yoongi keeps his mouth shut, letting Taehyung pour it all out on him; his tears, his stress, his feelings.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you two meet,” he resumes. “If I knew you would’ve fallen for him, I- God, it doesn’t matter. What’s done it’s done.” Taehyung shushes himself by putting a hand over his lips, muffling his own voice. “I… I wanted you to be mine. I still want you to. But you just won’t look at me. Not even once, not even bu-by mistake. And I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired of trying.”
Yoongi can perceive Taehyung’s exhaustion as he slumps on his sofa, his eyes red with anger and filled with lava tears. Yoongi feels useless as he can do nothing but pass him a tissue and a glass of water. Taehyung drinks in silence and hastily wipes off his tears, and Yoongi just stares.
Falling for Taehyung would be the easy way out of this mess. Taehyung could flip his life upside down and help him be finally satisfied with his achievements, feed all his addictions with genuine affection. Love. Yoongi is starving for love, and Taehyung has tons of it, serving it to him on a golden plate and a silver spoon.
But the easy way isn’t Yoongi’s way.
No.
There are just no ways out for Yoongi.
“I’m sorry, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi lulls him. “I’m sorry I can’t love you.”
Taehyung looks up, locking his eyes with Yoongi’s, then he shakes his head. “It’s not your fault,” he replies, sobbing. “After all, no one could truly love a prostitute.”
“I told you this isn’t about your job.”
“Really, now?” Taehyung lets out a lifeless laugh. “My job is disgusting. I’m not surprised no one ever fell in love with me over these past years.”
“You’re not disgusting. You hear me, Taehyung? You are nothing but beautiful and caring, and so fucking pure-” Yoongi sighs. “Listen, there’s nothing wrong with wanting more money. You’re a musician, a really good one, but still a musician. We don’t get much working in this industry, except lots of gratification and self accomplishment. Passion might be barely enough to pay off our rents, but we’re still happy doing what we do, aren’t we? Isn’t pride fulfilling enough by itself?”
“Not for me, no,” Taehyung says. “I want to pay my bills and yet be rich enough to buy myself Gucci.”
“I could buy damn Gucci for you, if that’s what you want.”
Taehyung giggles, and a sense of relief travels down Yoongi’s spine: the tempest is slowly retreating. “You’re not my sugar daddy, hyung. You’re a musician, a really good one, but still a musician.”
“Look at you, using my own words against me, you damn brat,” Yoongi complains, trying to keep his tune friendly and jokey.
Taehyung smiles at him and he suddenly raises from the couch. Yoongi watches him putting his coat and his beret back on, as he informs him about having an appointment booked at eleven o’clock. Before he walks down the corridor, he leaves a few hundred-dollar bills on Yoongi’s coffee tables, and to Yoongi’s questioning looks, he responds: “Go buy yourself a nice suit for the wedding. I’ll make sure someone takes you to the fanciest boutique in town.”
“I can’t run away from this, can I?”
“No, you can’t,” Taehyung replies as he reaches out for the the door’s handle. “Ah, and hyung-”
Yoongi jolts as soon as Taehyung tilts his head forward, but he’s not rapid enough to avoid the last kiss Taehyung presses on his lips. Yoongi glares at him, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to care, and his expression is too peaceful for Yoongi to find a trace of maliciousness in it. He’s almost cute. He can’t possibly be mad at him for such a brief stolen peck.
When Taehyung pulls back, he smirks. “If you ever want to talk, or sort things out, I’m here. You can find me right here. You got it?”
Yoongi nods. “I know I can count on you, Taehyung.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Not in this way. But I had to tell you eventually; I’d rather live with remorses than regrets. I’m sorry I’ve scared you.”
“You didn’t,” Yoongi reassures him. “Sure, you took me by surprise, but it’s okay. We are okay.”
They are okay.
With nothing left to say, Taehyung waves him goodbye and steps out the door, leaving Yoongi behind.
Alone and confused, but still lucid enough to think straight, Yoongi makes his way toward the recording player buzzing in the background. Once the soft jazz music starts playing again, Yoongi bends down on his carpet to pick up the pieces of the mug broken by Taehyung, and he wonders.
How long has Taehyung been in love with me?
And why?
After Taehyung’s disastrous birthday party, Yoongi hadn’t heard a word from him for days. It didn’t matter how many times Yoongi tried to call, Taehyung just wouldn’t answer him.
Yoongi had to face a near-death experience to finally receive a message from him.
>> Hoseok-hyung told me you threw up in the club yesterday. How are you? And more importantly where the heck are you Min Yoongi?
Yoongi blinks a few times, trying to readjust his blurred gaze to the dimmed light filtering between the window’s cracks. What does Taehyung mean with that where the heck are you? He’s at home, wrapped up in the cozy sheets of his beat-up bed, sleeping next to Namjoon, who’s snoring-
Oh.
Namjoon isn’t snoring, actually, and that’s a first for Yoongi. By now he’s used to wake up to Namjoon’s heavy breath and-
Wait.
When did Namjoon dye his hair orange?
Yoongi’s struck by a sudden flood of puzzled memories and his blood go cold in his veins, his body unmoving.
Jimin.
Jimin, the music club, the pill.
Jimin.
Jimin bought him home, his home, and he let him rest on his bed, right next to him, meaning they slept together. Again. For the second time in a row.
Yoongi’s starting to distinguish a patter through Jimin’s acts. Firstly he lures him with his moves, he enchants him with his kisses, and then he cuts him off by making him lose the perception of the world around him. The first time, it was alcohol’s fault, but this time around-
Jimin drugged him.
Jimin made him shallow a damn happy pill -or whatever that acid stuff was- and sent him straight to hell.
And yet, right here, right now, Yoongi never felt this close to heaven before. Yoongi didn’t know what divine meant until he woke up next to Jimin and felt his soft locks tingling his neck, his quiet heartbeats feebly pressing against his chest.
They’re harmonizing.
Gone are the visions, the monster he saw during the car ride to Jimin’s flat disappeared. He doesn’t recall much of the night before, as he passed out as soon as his head hit the soft pillows scattered around Jimin’s bed, but he still vividly remembers the terrible things he’s seen while he was under the effect of the pill which Jimin gave him.
All Yoongi wants right now is to forget.
And so he does.
The whole world slows down, until it completely stops to let Yoongi enjoy this taste of Paradise. Even though he’s aware it isn’t going to last long, leaving him hungry for some more, Yoongi devours every little breadcrumb he finds along his trail, savoring every single bite. And yet, it doesn’t matter how many tastes Yoongi takes of Jimin, he still can’t quite catch his true flavor.
When he fully awakes, it’s sometime around six in the morning. It isn’t dawn yet, but the sunless sky is clear enough to allow Yoongi to look around the room without having to switch the lights on.
The walls of the bedroom are covered in posters and photos. A pair of ballet shoes are hanging between blue cockades and shelves full of golden trophies. The framed pictures portray Jimin and Taehyung’s younger selves. They’re mostly wearing their high school uniform, and there isn’t even one photo in which they aren’t smiling or holding each other. They look so happy together, especially Taehyung.
Maybe Jimin was right. Maybe Taehyung never let them meet because he was jealous of their friendship.
Just maybe.
Taehyung sent him various messages throughout the night, Yoongi notices when he looks up at his cellphone again.
>> Hyung istg if you don’t answer me right now I’m calling the police
>> Namjoon-hyung told me he hasn’t seen you since yesterday evening
>> Where the fuck are you
>> Hyung if you’re mad at me cause I didn’t text you back I’m sorry
>> Please be safe, I love you
>> Just send me your location, I’m going to pick you up from wherever you are
>> Hyung… Are you at Jimin’s?
>> Nvmd Hoseok just told me you’re with him
>> Have fun
Yoongi puts his phone down. He’s still too dizzy to talk to Taehyung right now, and plus point, his right arm is numb, as Jimin fell asleep on it. His stomach is grumbling and he has the urge to pee, but he doesn’t want to move. It feels just right to stay there, laying next to Jimin.
Dangerous, but so endearing Jimin.
It’s not long before Jimin starts fussing around the sheets, mistakenly elbowing Yoongi in the ribs and stealing his pillows. He tosses and turns inside his thick duvet until he finally discloses his eyes and blinks his dreams away.
He’s up, and so is the sun.
“Hyung?” His voice is hoarse, lower than usual, music for Yoongi’s exhausted ears. “Good morning.”
Yoongi can’t help but raise his eyebrow up, questioning him. “Good morning?” he repeats after him. “Are you assuming I slept well, peach head?”
Jimin rubs his eyes tiredly, calm and hushed, as if he hasn’t heard the thin irony slipping between Yoongi’s words like a viper. “I guess it’s not a good morning, then.”
“I’m mad at you, Jimin,” Yoongi deadpans. “No, screw that. I’m fucking furious right now.”
“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, and Yoongi just can’t believe his nerves. If he thinks he’s getting away with such a ridiculous apologize, he’s damn wrong.
There’s no way Yoongi is going to forgive him this time.
“I should’ve understood you weren’t in the mood. I should’ve considered the possibility of you getting into a bad trip, but since I never witnessed one with my own eyes, I stupidly thought you were going to be fine. I’m so sorry, so truly sorry.”
No chances Jimin is going to fool him once more. Not now that Yoongi knows he’s batshit crazy.
“I wanted to refund you somehow, and those pills were the only thing I had at hand.”
No way.
“I shouldn’t have treated you like a junkie. You are not like the other guys I usually deal with, so I didn’t know how to act around you. I couldn’t really point out your character until I saw you crumbling in the club because of what I did to you. That was the moment I knew I fucked up pretty badly. I misunderstood you, and that’s my own fault. I felt so bad, hyung. I felt so bad for doing that to you. Is there something I can do to make up to you?”
No.
“Are you… Are you going to forgive me, if I promise you I’m never involving you in these things ever again?”
Fuck.
Of course.
Of fucking course Yoongi is going to give in to those beautiful droopy eyes and that angelic voice.
Of course.
Yoongi is a week man after all, and Jimin is such a strong-hearted one.
“I already forgave you, peachy.”
Damn.
He’s pathetic. Yoongi is so damn pathetic, but there’s nothing he can do to stop himself doing pathetic stuff like this one. Like taking in the poor apologizes of someone who did nothing but hurt him since the moment they met each other.
What’s the hint, what’s the take-away in of all this?
Yoongi can find none but one: he wants to be ruined. He is subconsciously looking for someone to kill him softly, to take all of him and strip him out of his fears. If he’s dead, there won’t be anything to be scared of; Yoongi could finally spend the remaining of his days in peace, unafraid and unable to feel anything at all.
And yet, he was scared.
When he saw what was going on inside his head with his own eyes, when he saw the reflection of his thoughts taking the form of those terrifying monsters roaming within the club’s walls, he frighted himself to death.
And yet, he was scared.
He felt scared.
He felt.
Death isn’t the solution to his problems. Not a mental one, at least.
Also, he doesn’t feel dead when he’s with Jimin. On the contrary, he feels more alive than ever.
His subconscious failed, and for once, Yoongi can finally declare himself as the winner of this whole brain wrecking challenge.
A giggle interrupts Yoongi’s stream of thoughts, and as soon as he looks up, Jimin’s shoving the sheets off their warm bodies. Yoongi instantly freezes up, but he doesn’t have the time to complain, as Jimin’s already trying to get him off of his bed hauling him by his arms.
“Come on, let’s go see the sunrise together. I have the keys of the terrace.”
By now Yoongi has learned not to question how Jimin manages to get whatever he wants, from the keys to the terrace of the flat complex he’s living in to making Yoongi move so early in the morning at his will, barefoot and in pajama. Jimin’s pajama.
He absentmindedly follows Jimin throughout the corridor, and then outside the flat, up the stairs. A metallic door is the only thing standing in their way, and Jimin’s quick to remove the obstacle for them both right away.
The cold morning breeze caresses Yoongi’s minty hair and Jimin’s messier one. The view which has opened before their eyes is filtered by a bluish light, big wool clouds patterning the sky-dome. The sun is sitting comfortably on the line drawn by the horizon, almost like it feels too lazy to raise itself up already.
All around them it’s grey buildings and thick fog. A train is passing by the railway in the distance, and that is the only strident noise to be heard out there. Point is, there’s nothing to see from that terrace actually, and yet Jimin’s presence fills up every empty space.
Jimin is capable to stuff nothing with everything, and just by seeing him, Yoongi feels full.
Yoongi watches Jimin resting his back against the railing of the terrace, on the edge of the void. Yoongi’s afraid Jimin’s going to fall off, if he leans in too further, but Jimin wipes his worries away as he gesture him to come closer. It’s safe, are his silent words, come stand next to me.
Once Yoongi’s close enough, Jimin shoves a hand in his pocket and pulls out two slim cigarettes. Yoongi glances at him, but Jimin laughs his suspicious looks off.
“It’s just weed,” he says. “You’re cool with weed, right?”
“Not really,” Yoongi honestly replies. “But I do crave a smoke, so I guess it’s gonna be alright.”
Jimin nods and lights the cigarettes. He offers Yoongi one, as he takes a drag from his own. Its smell isn’t very appealing to Yoongi, but he automatically wraps his lips around the filter and inhales either way. The smoke hazes his already blurry gaze, but it isn’t strong enough to blow his mind away. It’s good. He feels good.
“Hyung?” Jimin suddenly calls out, and Yoongi tilts his head up, accidentally meeting Jimin’s lips in the process.
Accidentally. Yeah, sure.
As if Jimin ever does something accidentally.
“You really like kisses, don’t you?” Yoongi remarks, and Jimin giggles as he presses a few more pecks on his mouth.
“You could say so,” Jimin replies between a kiss and another. “But I particularly enjoy yours.”
“Why?”
Jimin shrugs. “Your kisses are rough. A little rough it’s just how I like it.”
“Noticed that,” Yoongi says, pointing his chin to Jimin’s bruised neck. That once-immaculate neck which Yoongi bruised himself with wild bites, merciless and vicious. “You’re really are a pocket-size beast.”
“Are you implying I’m small?”
“You are,” Yoongi responds him. “Very tiny and cute, but still dangerous enough to make me wanna keep you away, like a little rabid kitten.”
“But you never pushed me away, I recall.”
“I would’ve done it if I could, but you leave me no other choice. You’re always there. You’re everywhere, peachy.”
“Well, I like being close to you.” Jimin takes in another drag and exhales slowly, his throat expanding under Yoongi’s predatory eyes. “I really do like you, hyung. You’re different. You’re smart, and you don’t quit easily. I always loved a good riddle, and you, Min Yoongi, are the biggest mystery I ever faced.”
Yoongi’s facade cracks up and he snorts. “A mystery? Me? What the hell?” He laughs, crazily so. That much for such a ridiculous amount of weed circulating in his veins. “You’re fucking stoned, Jiminie. I’m as mysterious as a rock. There’s nothing special about me, really.”
“You’re wrong,” Jimin replies, his expression so serious Yoongi can’t help but wheeze a little more. “Have you ever taken a look at yourself? You are incredible, hyung. I think I already told you this before, but I find your music mesmerizing. Both your lyrics and your tunes, I fell in love with them. I’ve been lacking passion lately, but yesterday night, when you putted your skills to work, something resonated within me, and- And suddenly I felt like dancing again. And for that I thank you, hyung.”
“Well…” Yoongi scratches his neck, embarrassed. “No one ever told me stuff like this one. Thank you, I guess. For dancing to my songs.”
Jimin smiles at him and puts out his half-done cigarette. “Now I feel like I could make use of some good morning stretching.”
“No sex,” Yoongi immediately states. “I’m still discombobulated. I would rather slip back to bed and sleep, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t mean that!” Jimin exclaims. “You don’t have to do anything at all. Just pick up your phone and put on some good music. I’m sure you have your tracks hidden somewhere in there.”
Yoongi does have his songs downloaded on his phone, indeed.
“So DJ,” Jimin says, raising to his feet right in front of Yoongi. “Play me a song of yours to make me dance.”
And who’s Yoongi to deny him?
Yoongi scrolls down his playlist until he finds the track he rapped to yesterday night. He renames it Nevermind, just like Jimin called it. Unnamed or not, Yoongi stills has a special attachment to this song. Jimin likes it. Jimin likes this song, and by acknowledging it, Yoongi can’t help but let pride fill up his heart.
Jimin starts moving as soon as the melody gets him, the base pumping in the speakers. Yoongi has no experience in contemporary dance whatsoever, but he can tell Jimin’s body control is not a product of raw talent; he studied this shit, and God knows for how many years.
Jimin’s lines are all connected to each other, from his arms to his fingertips, and to his fingertips to his toes. His silhouette stands out in the golden sunlight which is shining upon him, making him look ethereal in his simple white shirt and his bared feet. Not a single muscle is drawing weird, meaningless angles in mid-air; all of Jimin’s junctures are combined into a one, fluid picture in motion.
The way he arches his back so effortlessly, the way his arms curve and create beautiful bows above his head- Yoongi just can’t look away. Jimin knows how to use the empty space all around him, reaching out for invisible threads to grab on and bringing those air strings to life.
Jimin’s dance is full of it, full of life.
Yoongi loves it.
He loves it so much.
Unsteady on his feet, Jimin stumbles a few times in his own toes. When one of his legs gets tangled in the other, Yoongi steps forward to catch him before he falls. Jimin’s face is suddenly pressed against his chest, and as Yoongi breathes in, Jimin’s scent inebriates him through his nostrils.
He smells like tangerines and low-quality weed.
“I’m sorry.” Jimin’s quick to recompose himself, but he doesn’t let go of Yoongi’s hold. "Pot fucks up my coordination.”
“That’s the least it can do,” Yoongi points out. “I have to say, for someone who carries around pills and weed all the time, you don’t look like you know your way around drugs.”
“I don’t really do them,” Jimin explains to him. “I’m a dancer. I can’t do drug, my professors would find out right away and they wouldn’t let me take part in rehearsals anymore. That’s a risk I can’t take. You know how expensive that Academy is, my parents would kill me if I loosed such a great chance to dance on big stages so stupidly.”
“Is that so?” Yoongi hums. “Then would you kindly tell me what the fuck do you do with those drugs?”
“No can do,” Jimin insists. “I wish I could be honest with you, hyung, and maybe someday I will, but this… thing is bigger than me. Bigger than us. Just take it as it is and trust me. I’m going to tell you again and I want you to memorize it: I really like you. I always enjoy the time we spend together, and I hope we can eventually deepen this relationship of ours. I know for sure we can become good partners if we put our minds to it, no business involved. Just you, me and music. How does it sound?”
“It sounds like a dream, Jiminie.”
“Then let's make it come true,” Jimin urges him. “Let me show you what I got, only the good stuff this time around. And if you like it, you can take it. It will be yours to keep. Do we have a deal?”
Yoongi doesn’t think twice before he speaks up again: “So it seems.”
Jimin’s expression softens as he leans in to claim Yoongi’s lips one more time, lulling him in his arms into a slow dance just between the two of them. Yoongi lets himself melt into Jimin’s embrace, allows himself to be greedy and take in all Jimin’s offering him on his unstable table.
It’s in that moment Yoongi learns how to enrich himself solely with feelings.
As long as he can feel something, his fire isn’t going to extinguish, and Jimin kisses just happen to be the perfect ignitions for him.
Just his taste.
Yoongi notices it sometime around spring, a few months before his graduation.
As his relationship with Jimin grew stronger and steadier, Taehyung became more and more distant.
The weather is nicer, the sun warmer, and yet Taehyung’s antics are cold and stinging.
That’s weird, Yoongi thinks.
Taehyung’s always loved spring. They used to celebrate Yoongi’s birthday outdoors every year since they were kids, but this time around he didn’t even show up at his apartment to wish him a happy birthday. He didn’t try to haul him to picnics, they didn’t go to see the cherry blossom together and he didn’t even invite Yoongi busking in the streets along him.
That’s a weird behavior coming from Taehyung.
Way too weird.
Yoongi is walking down the lonely route to his flat after spending all day long at Jimin’s when he sees him for the first time in weeks.
He’s about to open up his mouth to call Taehyung’s name when, at a second glance, he takes note of the way he’s dressed.
Taehyung never wears tight jeans. He finds them uncomfortable and too revealing for his liking, and yet there he is, showing off a pair of dark jeans so skinny Yoongi can easily make out the outlines of his ass. Bright red sneakers aren’t exactly the pair of shoes Taehyung would choose for a night out, as he prefers neutral nuances of beige and grey. And why did he put that stupid frilly tank top on? It looks hideous on his slim figure.
Also, Taehyung isn’t alone.
All around him there are dozens of young men like himself dressed in even more revealing clothes, and as Yoongi wonders how they are managing to deal with the chills of that late March’s night, the red neon sign standing at the top of the building he’s passing by distracts him.
Omelas boys, it reads.
All of sudden, Yoongi realizes it all.
He doesn’t have the time to scream Taehyung’s name at the top of his lungs, as someone he surely doesn’t know approaches him and wraps an arm around his neck. Yoongi winces at the unwanted proximity, but the guy who just seized him doesn’t seem to care about Yoongi’s boundaries.
“Hi, baby,” the stranger whispers in Yoongi’s ear, his Northern accent thick and unsettling for Yoongi. “First time here?”
“Of course it is.”
Another voice joins in, and Yoongi starts feeling cornered. Now there are two strangers breathing on his neck, and Yoongi’s not sure how he is going to deal with both of them at the same time. Anxiety runs down his spine, and Yoongi can do nothing but put his stern facade on and hope these guys will get a clue soon enough.
“We would’ve remembered such a pretty face, wouldn’t we?” the second guys adds, and that’s when Yoongi takes a closer look at both of them.
Yoongi wouldn’t give these boys more than eighteen, twenty years each. Or at least they do seem younger than him. The guy who’s slipped his arm around Yoongi’s neck isn’t much taller than him, and neither is the other one, but they give off a mature vibe which Yoongi couldn’t catch until they got a little closer.
They both look gorgeous, but their gazes are so malicious Yoongi can't help but be afraid of them.
“Who are you? What do you want from me?”
The first guy, the blonde, taller one, laughs Yoongi’s concern off. “You have no idea of your whereabout, do you?” he asks him. “You just entered the Omelas boys’ realm, at your service for your pleasure.”
“Nice to meet you, cutie,” the other guy says. “The name is Haechan.”
“I’m Mark,” the blondie introduces himself. “Wanna give us a ride?”
“God, no,” Yoongi deadpans. “I’m not here for… whatever you’re up to. I just want to speak to Taehyung.”
Mark, the guy who’s been holding on him, abruptly retreats his arm, hissing. “We lost another one. They all want Taehyung-hyung, damn it.”
The corners of Haechan’s mouth instantly go down, and he pouts. “Of course they do. Taehyung-hyung goes all the way. No one is interested in our kiss bang anymore. We’re worthless compared to him.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Yoongi almost yells. “What the fuck is this Omelas thing?”
The Mark guys widens his eyes and exchanges a brief knowing look with Haechan. “You really don’t know? This is a brothel district.”
Shock takes over Yoongi as he registers Mark’s statement.
A red-light district.
Sure, he knew he lived near a red-light district, but it has never been a big deal for him. He didn’t care one bit about those stuff, but Taehyung-
What is Taehyung doing here? And what did those guys mean when they said Taehyung goes all the way?
“Excuse me, could you tell me more about Taehyung? I swear I’m not some kind of a stalker, I’m a close friend of his,” he demands the guys.
Haechan tilts his head on a side. “How could you be a close friend of his when you didn’t even know he works here?” he asks, rightfully so.
“We didn’t talk much in the past few months. Since January, to be precise,” Yoongi replies, trying his best to sound as sincere as possible. “I had no idea he got a… job here. What does he do, if you can tell?”
Mark stares at him for a while before he nods, meaning he decided to trust Yoongi’s honest intentions. “Taehyung joined the brothel in January, indeed,” he starts talking. “He looked so out of place at first, we really didn’t know what brought him here.”
“Yeah, he hardly took in any clients the first weeks,” Haechan adds up. “His first night here was a mess. He used to cry so much, that poor little thing.”
Anger boils within Yoongi’s blood as he wonder whoever could’ve done such a terrible deed to his Taehyung. His dear, precious Taehyung.
His.
“Do you know who brought him here?”
Mark mumbles to himself as he appears to be trying to recall something. “I don’t know his name, but we see him often around the neighborhood.” He turns to Haechan, nudging him. “You talked to him before, right?”
“You mean Jimin-hyung?”
Yoongi freezes.
“Of course I did. He’s always around here. I’m not sure about which kind of business he runs, but I heard he provides lots of stuff for our sick costumers. I mean, sick-minded ones.”
Jimin.
Jimin brought Taehyung here.
“They’re friends, if I remember correctly,” Haechan keeps saying, even though Yoongi’s hardly following him anymore. “Taehyung-hyung needed money, so Jimin-hyung introduced him to our boss. He got accepted right away, and now Taehyung-hyung’s really rich. I’m talking about lots of money. Millions of dollars every week.”
“He basically poops gold bars,” Mark remarks. “He’s the Omelas boy, hands down.”
“No one ever told you it isn’t nice to speak behind someone’s back?”
A third, much more mature voice speaks up.
Yoongi trembles as he recognizes Taehyung’s soulful tone. When he looks up to face him, the Taehyung he sees isn’t the Taehyung he knows. This Taehyung is wearing weird clothes and thick eyeliner. He smells and looks artificial, his eyes unfocused and his expression deadly calm.
This is not Taehyung.
He can’t be.
“Hyung, what are you doing here?”
Yoongi remains still, words refusing to roll down his tongue. This plastic man isn’t his Taehyung. He has nothing to tell him.
“Look, you shouldn’t be here,” Taehyung says. “This is a costumers-free area. You have to go.”
“What… What is this?” Yoongi finally manages to let out. “Why-”
“Please, just go away,” Taehyung interrupts him. “This isn’t a fitting place for you, hyung.”
“And neither is yours,” Yoongi rebuts. “What are you doing out here dressed like a… Like this?”
“I’m working, hyung. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
Yoongi sees red as he takes off his leather jackets and shoves it to Taehyung. “Put this on. Just… Just fucking put this jacket on. I can’t stand this sight.”
Taehyung sighs, but he complies anyway. A sense of relief travels all the way up to Yoongi's mind as he sees Taehyung in his jacket, pacifying him. He already looks a little livelier.
“I did. Are you happy now?” Taehyung mocks him, crossing his arms to his chest.
“Taehyung! You’re requested to room twenty-three! Come up quickly!”
Yoongi barely sees the face of the man who called for Taehyung from the front door of the building before Taehyung pushes him away, right into Mark’s waiting arms.
“Bring him at the outskirts of the quartier. I don’t want him here,” he orders the younger one, and Mark can only nod as Taehyung turns around and strides toward the entrance.
“Well, he wasn’t in the mood to talk to you, cutie,” Haechan comments, as Mark hauls Yoongi away. “I guess he didn’t want you to find out.”
“It has been nice talking to you, Taehyung-friend. If you ever feel like making out with us, you can find us here,” Mark dismisses him, waving him goodbye.
Haechan imitates him and soon, too soon for Yoongi to fully realize, they leave him behind.
Yoongi is fuming.
He regrets every single little step he made toward Jimin in these past months. He regrets trusting him, he regrets spending so much time with him, he regrets kissing and sleeping with him, he regrets it all.
Jimin’s a fucking menace.
He’s a bad, bad, bad person and Yoongi’s tired of his shit.
He’s done.
This time, Jimin’s done for him.
But before Yoongi starts pretending he never met him, he has to let off some steam to his face, suffocate him with remorses and teach him a lesson he’s never going to forget.
He has to, for Taehyung’s sake.
He doesn’t care it's almost three in the morning. He doesn’t care he’s been to Jimin’s just a few hours ago and that he’s most likely sleeping in his cozy bed at the moment. He knocks at Jimin’s door as if he wants to ram it down with his bare hands, and once Jimin unlocks it-
Yoongi stills.
Jimin has been crying, Yoongi can tell from his puffy eyes and his rosy, moist cheeks. He looks so sad Yoongi almost forgets why he went to him in the first place.
He has to fight off the urge to hug him and ask him what’s happened, but before he can even speak up, Jimin attempts to slam the door in his face. Yoongi’s quicker than him, placing a foot between the infix and the door, and violently pushing it until Jimin gives in and let him have his way.
“Are you here to make fun of me, hyung?”
Jimin’s voice is so feeble Yoongi almost thinks he’s just imagined it.
“Make fun of you? What the fuck, Jimin,” Yoongi yells at him. “I know what you did to Taehyung, and-”
“Oh, I know what you did to Taehyung too,” Jimin promptly interrupts him. “I’m sure the two of you spent a nice night together, didn’t you?”
“What are you talking about? I met him at that fucking brothel right now, he-”
“Shut up, I know it! I know you met, goddamn it!” Jimin starts screaming, as he shoves a hand in his sweatpants and picks up his phone. “Here,” he says, placing the screen right in front of Yoongi’s eyes. “He already sent me this. There’s no need for further explanations. I got it.”
Yoongi squints and the photo Jimin’s showing him becomes clearer to his eyes. In the picture, it’s Taehyung. He’s wearing nothing but a necklace of purple hickeys and his leather jacket. His nakedness hits Yoongi hard, and he finds himself gasping for air as Jimin attacks him again.
“So you came here because you feel guilty now, right?” he asks him. “But guess what, I don’t give a fuck about you and Taehyung. You can do whatever you want, it’s not like we were a thing, after all. Just… don’t bother me anymore. I’m so tired of you.”
“You are tired of me?” Yoongi can’t believe his own ears. “Fuck you, Jimin. Seriously, fuck you. You’re so selfish. You’re the one who did this to Taehyung, he’s just a victim of your stupid little games.”
“Oh, I see. This is your protective-boyfriend mode, isn’t it?” Jimin laughs, and its sound is so wicked Yoongi feels sick. “Okay, then. Take your anger out on me, as if I were the one who forced him to suck dicks in the streets in exchange of money.”
“I swear, if you don’t shut your trap right now-”
“What are you going to do? Beat me up?” Jimin opens his arms wide, as an invitation to Yoongi to step forward and fight him. “Do it. I deserve it, don’t I? I am the bitch here, right? So, what’s keeping you? Come on, punch me.”
Yoongi wants to.
God, there’s nothing he wants more than punching Jimin fair and square right now, but he can’t bring himself to move one single finger.
He can’t.
He could never hurt Jimin.
“You really are a bitch,” Yoongi says, instead. “But you can’t even see straight. It would be useless to beat up someone who isn’t willing to defend himself. I’m not that much of a coward.”
“Can’t see straight?” Jimin grins, scarily so. “But I saw it damn well, the picture Taehyung sent me.”
“What the hell, Jimin. I didn’t go to that Omelas thing to sleep with Taehyung. What’s your mind telling you?”
“But he’s wearing your jacket, isn’t he? And you just confirmed you met him there.”
“Fucking hell, Jimin! Are you really believing your own lie?”
“It doesn’t seem a lie to me.”
Yoongi clenches his fists and endures the rage which is hastily sweeping him away. There’s no way he and Jimin can communicate this way. They’re both too hurt to reason, and honestly, Yoongi is tired. Just so fucking tired.
“Believe whatever you want to believe,” Yoongi steps back, exiting Jimin’s flat. “I did not sleep with Taehyung. I came here because I wanted to talk about the ‘job’ you gave to him.”
“He wanted that job,” Jimin rebuts. “He accepted the offer by himself. He wanted money. I gave it to him. That’s all.”
“I’m never going to forgive you, Jimin. Never about Taehyung.”
“Fine by me.”
Jimin closes the door, and Yoongi storms out the building.
It's Jimin's fault Taehyung's got the blues.
It's all Jimin's fault.
Or is it?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Orange.Behind his eyelids, it’s blood orange.Yoongi rubs his thumbs over his eyes two, three times, but the bright color just won’t stop stinging his closed lids. He turns on one side, he stretches his limp arms and at last, he forces himself to wake up. It’s morning. His bones are all cranky, as he fell asleep on the couch right after he finished wiping off the the broken pieces of the mug Taehyung left scattered on his floor yesterday night. He’s really turning into an old wreck, after all.The living room smells like coffee and burnt cigarettes, slightly resinous, but homey overall. It reminds him of his parents’ house, except he can’t get a whiff of the freshly baked buttercup cookies his brother used to make for him on Sunday mornings anywhere here. No scent trails of his mom’s lavender softener and his dad’s booze either. Nothing but a quiet solo record trailing off in distance. Yoongi should feel nostalgic about the whole thing, but actually he doesn’t. He can’t. Truth is, he doesn’t miss his former household at all. Yoongi isn’t one to give up easily on broken contacts, but his family is one of those he never managed to fix in the span of thirty years. He would rather not think about those hard times and his worst failures now that he’s finally done with them, though.Yoongi stretches his arms, raising his hands to the ceiling, and he yawns. Yoongi firmly believes nothing will ever top the warm scent his furnitures radiate in the early hours of the day, after they’ve been long exposed to the sun. He takes in the lingering heat, he absorbs it and his whole body gets hotter and hotter in a nick of time. Inhaling that rich woody odor mingled with dust and pollen coming from outside the window never fails to make him feel comfortable in his own house, make him feel connected to the earth as a part of its whole, somehow. An insignificant particle wondering in an endless continuum of emptiness and apathy. His house is a void, but it’s still his house. Yoongi is grateful he has a roof over his head therefore and above all, but it would be nice if he had someone to share all that empty space with. He stops for a second, he focalizes his attention on his breathing.Every breath it’s a pulse. If he tries hard enough, he could sense each single exchange happening between his insides and the outer world throughout his nostrils. He takes in energy and releases tiredness, negativity turning into positivity. The more he breathes, the more he acquires the conscience he’s living.He’s still alive today, as he was yesterday. For Yoongi just that trivial awareness of life being all around and inside him is one of his biggest sources of relief. As long as he can breathe, he’s alive. As long has he can feel the air expanding inside his lungs, he can produce sounds and make music out of them.He’s fine. Today is going to be one of those days. Relieved as he can be, however, he definitely isn’t used to see the sun shining right in his face first thing in the morning. Yoongi is a bird of prey, not a damn cock or something. He’s never awake before midday, so it’s no wonder his brain is still all fuzzy and unwilling to collaborate with his muscles in order to make him move one inch from his soft, oh so soft couch.Yeah, there’s no way in hell he’s doing anything at all today. Yoongi’s already basking in his own laziness when he realizes something isn’t quite adding up in his body clock. If he woke up with the firm intention of doing nothing all day, then why did he bother to wake up in the first place?In just one glance Yoongi doesn’t notice anything near him which could’ve accidentally woken him up, exception made for the dazzling sunshines which have stung his eyelids like millions of thin pointy needles just a few seconds ago. He takes a while to catch by ear a distinguished noise coming from behind his door. It’s a voice, and a very familiar one too. “Hyung! Hyung, open up! It’s time to rise and shine! The early morning has gold in its mouth, and I just happen to be your golden cup of coffee! Come drink me up!”
Fucking hell.
Out of all people, why him? Why did Taehyung have to choose Jeon can’t-hold-still-for-a-fucking-second Jungkook? It’s a thing, and Taehyung’s well aware of it: Yoongi cannot handle Jungkook’s over enthusiastic manners. It’s not like Jungkook doesn’t respect his boundaries and such, but dealing with him it’s damn exhausting for Yoongi, especially this early in the morning.
Fuck Taehyung and his bad ideas.
If he’s seeking for revenge, Yoongi is going to make sure he will look so good during the wedding ceremony, Taehyung will regret suggesting Jungkook as his shopping partner altogether. Jungkook’s got quite an eye for style and nice suits, which could be a silver lining for him. A ‘double-edged sword' kind of silver lining.Before he opens the door, Yoongi firstly spies on Jungkook through the curtains of his window. Jungkook is standing right there, stepping on his flowerless porch, thumping one foot on the ground impatiently, his lips curled as if he’s whistling to entertain himself, to kill time. He’s particularly fidgety today, Yoongi can tell by the way the younger is hopping all around the yard without any apparent reason. That’s definitely not a good sign. But still, he looks so defenseless in his big, baby blue cardigan way too fluffy for his age and his silky white shirt, his eyes wide and unfazed, chin up to the sky, perhaps to make out funny figures out of passing-by clouds.He’s always been like this. He thinks he can discover each hidden secret of the universe just by beholding it. His naivety would have been quite disarming for Yoongi, if he didn’t know better.Jungkook is surely the most dangerous man Yoongi’s ever dealt with. Jungkook likes living fast, going sixty miles an hour on a razor-edged tightrope suspended between the mortal realm and heavens, his foot never leaving the accelerator pedal, meanwhile Yoongi loves long, slow speed rides with no destination. They couldn’t differ more from one other, but even so, Jungkook is still Yoongi’s Achilles’ heel.Jungkook and his loveliness have managed to soften Yoongi’s rough edges long ago. He got rid of the barbed wire draped all around Yoongi’s heart and craved himself a tiny den in which he’s more than welcomed in case he’s feeling tired or he’s in need for genuine caring. To build a nest inside Yoongi’s heart has been by no means an easy task. Jungkook dug and scraped his tunnel into Yoongi’s lonely inner world with his own nails until he craved himself a quite spacious hole inside of it, his fingers bleeding and hurting because of Yoongi’s sharp lines. And yet, he didn’t quit. He never did. In that aspect, Yoongi found in Jungkook a soul similar to his own. God, Yoongi immediately takes back everything he’s thought about him just now. He’d missed him, terribly so. Yoongi can’t pretend Jungkook hasn’t shown up to his house for too long, and he also knows Jungkook won’t stop mumbling and jumping around his withering garden like a madman until Yoongi unlocks the back door and lets him in. Slightly reluctant, but doomed either way, Yoongi presents himself to Jungkook. He barely has the time to say hi to him that Jungkook’s already squeezing the life out of him in one of his bone-crushing hugs. Yoongi loves, loves, loves being towered over taller people like Jungkook himself; it makes him feel protected and sheltered, all cozy and warm, but fucking hell, Jungkook has no control over his strength whatsoever. He can’t breathe. “Ggukie, I appreciate your affection, but I’m pretty positive my blood stopped circulating in my veins. Get the fuck off before I kick the bucket.”Jungkook immediately takes the hint and steps back, letting go of his hold on Yoongi, but he doesn’t stop brushing his fingertips up the back of Yoongi’s hands anyway. “I’m sorry, hyung,” he says, his eyes so sparkly with satisfaction, Yoongi just can’t bring himself to believe his apologize least bit: Jungkook definitely didn’t regret crushing him in his clumsy arms. He’s a terrible faker. “It’s just… I haven’t seen you in so long and I got hyper excited.”“I missed you too,” Yoongi bluntly admits. “But this surely is an indecent hour of the day to pay a visit to your hyung, don’t you think?”Jungkook shakes his head, his soft-looking locks bouncing in rhythm with his movements. “It’s already half past nine, hyung.”“I can’t see your point.” “Taehyung-hyung personally asked me to come pick you up and help you find a suit for Namjoon-ssi and Jimin-ssi’s wedding. I’m a man on mission, don’t slow me down.”A mission.Never truer words have been spoken.Jungkook is a man on a mission, as a matter of fact.Yoongi doesn’t recall the last time he’s seen him out of his uniform, considering plainclothes don’t count. Whenever they go out, Jungkook always carries with him this huge, suspicious black backpack filled with shining badges, his radio pouch, handcuffs and all sorts of officers’ shit, things Yoongi never got involved into and hopes he never will. And under all that slushy fleece which his huge cardigans are made of, he conceals his duty bell. Attached to his velvety trousers, it’s his Daewoo K5, around seven hundred grams of pure hazard and gunpowder. Jungkook is one hell of a loyal officer, Yoongi doesn’t have anything to say in that regard. He’s so dedicated to his role he’s almost scary. Or at least, Yoongi is fucking terrified of him when he’s on duty.If Yoongi hadn’t seen Jungkook doing fast actions with his very own eyes, mercilessly and spotlessly, he would’ve never believed such a precise killing machine existed within his gentle, soft-hearted Jungkook. The scars on his youthful face are the blatant proof of his devotion.He’s a wolf dressed in wool he torn from sheeps’ skin with his fangs and claws. But Jungkook never managed to fool Yoongi with his disguise. He couldn’t, as Yoongi himself was the one who told him to wear it, even taking the burden of knitting that costume for him with his own hands. Yoongi did it just to protect him, to make sure Jungkook wasn’t exposed to the harsh public opinion all the time. Being the police chief’s beloved son, Jungkook carries a heavy label which people don’t deal with so open-mindedly, not to mention his misconceived split-second syndrome. Jungkook was well aware of it, so in return he made sure his attire always looked believable to lessen his hyung’s worries. Thanks to Yoongi’s meticulous work, no one ever notices the putrid smell of death all over Jungkook, making him the best undercover agent in business. Jungkook could be nothing but grateful toward Yoongi, and Yoongi could be nothing but proud of his brilliant creation. Their chemistry is a science they refined throughout years of dedication, sharing mutual love and respect for each other. The bond which links Yoongi to Jungkook is made of titanium. It’s bulletproof. “Come on, jump in the car,” Jungkook resumes, dragging Yoongi by his elbow outside his porch. “We’re going downtown.”Jungkook pretends he doesn’t understand Yoongi’s complain about being too underdressed to go out, and he barely gives him the time to put on a damn pair of shoes. Jungkook abruptly hauls Yoongi to his black, huge SUV, deaf to Yoongi’s necessities. He doesn’t let Yoongi take anything except Taehyung’s money and his house keys, not even his phone. “I am the only thing you will need all day long,” Jungkook promises him as they take off. Yoongi’s not so sure about that, but allows Jungkook to have his way nevertheless. He trusts him with his life, first and foremost. Jungkook drives through the city’s main streets confidently, unbothered by the intense traffic of the weekend pouring in the shopping district. Yoongi watches Jungkook’s reflection in the rear-view mirror, looking closely at his big round eyes and his deadly sharp corners. If Jungkook were to throw a glance in his direction right now, Yoongi would’ve felt like Jungkook’d just shot a bullet directly to his conscience. He learned from Seokjin how to perfectly bare him in just one gesture, after all. Years and years of unceasing practice. Yoongi avoids the possibility of getting caught staring by turning his gaze to the window. As his eyes linger on the tall, lifeless buildings all around them, Jungkook starts whistling the tune of Yoongi’s latest released song, nameless number one hundred and eighty. Yoongi acknowledges him by keeping pace with his low-key singing tapping his fingers on the window’s glass and mouthing the lyrics. Jungkook seems satisfied with his reaction, as he loses no time telling him he loved his song and his lullaby-like rap break. “I hope I will see you performing this track in a big avenue someday, hyung.”“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Yoongi deadpans. “I’m too old for performances. We already talked about this, if my memory isn’t failing me.”Jungkook’s grasp on the wheel tightens, the thick vein of his hands popping out with unexpected rage. “You’re only in your thirties, hyung. You still have fire within to split out.”“I wish I had.” Yoongi tiredly rests his head against the window, trying to recollect himself as Jungkook loses it. “Lately I’ve been feeling so spent I barely have any inspiration left. I’ve also been thinking about retiring soon and sticking up to production alone. I’m better off behind the scenes anyway.”“Wait, what? What the hell, hyung!” Jungkook suddenly pulls the car into a parking lot and hits the brake, making both of them violently burst forth. “Why are you thinking about retiring? It’s way too soon! You’re still on the pinnacle of your success, how on the earth could you give up right now?”“I just told you,” Yoongi coldly replies. “I got sick of it. Why are you so surprised? Don’t you know how goddamn hard is to make art nowadays?”“No, I don’t know,” Jungkook harshly rebuts, his hands quivering. “But I know how goddamn hard is to put your own life out there everyday, physically speaking.”God, Yoongi feels like whole discussion is slowly getting out of his hands. He can’t let Jungkook get all cocky with him, or else Yoongi is going to fall deep into some serious troubles. Yoongi can’t risk unveiling Jungkook’s bad side, especially when he’s got a gun waiting for him right on the dashboard in front of his eyes and the right to kill at his own discretion. And yet, Yoongi knows him too well to be afraid of him.Jungkook is mad, but not mad mad yet. He wouldn’t hurt Yoongi, not for such an irrelevant disagreement at least.However, Yoongi would gladly avoid messing with demons, if he has the possibly to do so. “Ggukie, calm down. This is not about my job itself, it’s just-” Yoongi nervously pushes his hair back, loosening himself up to appear confident; he has to show the whelp who’s in command, just like he did in the beginnings. “It’s my motivation. I lost it.”Silence reigns over them for a little while, then Jungkook turns his head toward Yoongi. His expression clearly gives away what he’s thinking about, and Yoongi prepares himself for the imminent impact.He can sense things are about to get ugly. “So Taehyung-hyung was right, after all,” Jungkook speaks up again. “You’re still not over Jimin-ssi, aren’t you?”Yoongi frowns, definitely not expecting Jimin’s name slipping from Jungkook’s mouth. They never talk about him. They have an agreement, and a very unyielding one. “What did you just say?”“I said,” Jungkook inveighs. “You’re still under Jimin’s spell.”“That’s it, I’m getting off your car,” Yoongi threatens him, but Jungkook’s reasons quicker than him, as he locks both of them in by swiftly pressing the block button on the left side of the steering wheel. Bloody hell, there’s nothing Yoongi hates more than feeling trapped like a stupid rat.“You do not bite the hand which feeds you, Ggukie,” Yoongi comments, venomous as he can be. “Can you please explain why are you rioting against me? You, of all people?”“I’m doing this because I care about you and I don’t want you to go wasting your passion and your dreams for Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook responds him, his tone unflinching. “He’s getting married, so what? It’s not like you depend on him. I did, and I’m sure you remember how it was for me. Not pretty, yeah?” Indeed, Yoongi recalls far too well. “Listen to me, Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook suddenly rests his hand on Yoongi’s thigh, his gestures slow and studied, then he continues: “I know you’re stronger than this, stronger than me, and that’s the reason why I got mad at you. I’m sorry hyung, but I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you love Jimin anymore.”Yoongi’s frown vanishes as Jungkook tenderly strokes his leg up and down, his soft fingers giving him the revitalizing massage he’s been longing for. He allows himself to melt into Jungkook’s loving hands, feeling their bond getting to work between the two of them, sturdier than ever. Jungkook is right. No. Jungkook is goddamn right. Yoongi should stop loving Jimin. He should be cherishing his carrier, enjoy the happy bits his life is offering him right now. He should sign up for bigger projects at work and go out more often, see his friends at least once or twice a week, maybe hug some fucking trees or something. He also should stop going M.I.A for months and open up about his feelings from time to time.His demons have to breathe too, or else they become too frantic for him to handle. As he thinks over and over again, Yoongi clenches his tongue, pulling the barbell of his piercing between his teeth. His mouth is aching for a cigarette, so he asks Jungkook if he’s got a few to spare. “I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook replies, shaking his head. “I don’t smoke anymore. Have you forgotten?”No, Yoongi has not forgotten, but he was hoping for a miracle either way. He’s still allowed to hope, right?“But I might have something else to help you with your oral fixation here,” Jungkook adds up, and Yoongi can’t help but scrunch his nose at Jungkook’s statement.“You fucking pervert.”“What?” Jungkook widens his eyes, sincerely confused. “What the hell, hyung! I wasn’t talking about my- Oh my God, I hate you so much.”“Listen, kid. I know we’re both single and in need to let some steam off, and I also find you pretty hot, but you’re like a little brother to me-”That’s the moment Jungkook’s initial shock breaks into a genuine laugh, and he smacks hard Yoongi’s thigh. “I don’t fuck old geezer,” he says, his tone jokey and excessively mighty. “But it’s my job to take care of them anyway.” Jungkook shoves a hand inside the front pocket of his cardigan and he pulls out a lollipop. “Here, take this.”Orange. Namjoon’s favorite flavor. Yoongi picks up the candy Jungkook’s offering him and he leisurely gets rid of its showy wrapping. As soon as his tongue touches the sickening sweet surface of the lollipop, Yoongi grimaces, but he keeps his discomfort in just to please Jungkook. Jungkook looks satisfied about his own deed, at any rate. “Tastes good?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for Yoongi to respond before he resumes. “You should free yourself from that bad smoking habit of yours, you know? Cigarettes shorten your life.”No shit. Of course Yoongi’s aware of it. He’s the one who’s chasing after a faster death on his own legs.He wants to burn to the filter quickly, let his own column of fumes and ashes raise to the sky, and once he saturates into thick clouds, he will rain. After a whole existence spent incinerating ideas and tunes in order to bring a little bit of warmth into others’ lives, he has to right to extinguish it all by pouring on them. Right?“Hyung?” Yoongi blinks his thoughts away, and as his fluttering gazes become steady again, he notices that the car doors are wide open. Jungkook’s standing next to him, hovering over him. “I’m sorry,” Yoongi mumbles. “I’ve zoned out.”“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures him. “But take my hand now. Let’s go out. Their boutique isn’t too far away from here, and maybe seeing familiar faces will calm you down. Are you with me, hyung?”Yoongi doesn’t think twice before he hands over his right palm to Jungkook, and Jungkook doesn’t waste any time into taking it into his own fist. At thirty-two years of age, Yoongi would never admit he loves walking hand in hand with his closest friends, keeping them as close as possible. It’s a fortune Jungkook just subconsciously knows it and understands him. Their boutique, Jungkook said. Yoongi doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about until he takes a step into the shop at the end of the boulevard and a strong trail of clean cotton’s scent invades his lungs, tarnishing his senses. “Welcome to Paradise 127.” And right after the intense perfume, the voices. “Hold up, aren’t you Min Yoongi? That Min Yoongi?”Yoongi carefully looks at the men before him from top to bottom, taking in the vaguely familiar features of their faces. “Of course he is! How could we forget Yoongi-hyung’s pretty face?”Yeah, it’s definitely them. There’s no way he could get them wrong after all the things they’ve been through together in the past years.“Mark,” he says, waving at the young, curly haired man, then he focalizes his attention on the tinier one, Mark’s little sly fox. “And Hae… No, Donghyuck, isn’t it?”Mark’s about to reply to Yoongi when Donghyuck instantly drops the boxes he’s been carrying till now and throws his arms around Yoongi’s neck, dragging him into an unexpected hug. “I can’t believe you’re here!” Donghyuck cries out, almost hysterically. “Where the hell have you been, man?” Mark yelps. “You basically disappeared for ages. Ages, I tell you!”“If we didn’t report you to Jungkook-hyung’s agency, that’s solely thanks to Taehyung-hyung,” Donghyuck continues. “He made sure to keep us updated about your whereabouts from time to time.”“I didn’t mean to vanish,” Yoongi says, attempting to sound as apologetic as he can. “It’s just… I haven’t been feeling very well since- You know.”Mark nods, and Donghyuck lets go of his grasp on Yoongi’s neck. “We know,” Mark repeats after him. “The whole town knows, for fuck’s sake.”“So Namjoon-ssi and Jimin-hyung really decided to tie the knot too, uh?” Donghyuck shakes his head in disbelief, and that’s when Yoongi notices the golden band around his shortish annular, matching Mark’s ring. Oh.Well, it doesn’t come off as that much of a surprise. Mark and Donghyuck have always been attached to each other’s hips, after all. It would’ve been weirder if their relationship didn’t evolve into something more as time passed by, actually. Yoongi can’t be anything but genuinely happy for them. Married life… It must be as hard as pleasant, he guesses. He supposes it would be nice to live and share his anxieties with someone he loves for the remaining of his days. Not that he will ever know, that’s it. “Definitely didn’t expect that one,” Mark reprises, distracting Yoongi from his own thoughts. “Jimin-hyung looked so invested in you a few years ago.”“Yeah, a few years ago,” Yoongi rumbles. “Now I’m here to look for a suit to wear during his wedding.” He takes Jungkook by an arm, showing him off. “Your hero took me here thinking you could lend me a hand, apparently.”“Our hero, indeed,” Donghyuck echoes him, flashing Jungkook his biggest smile. “We’re still in debit with you, hyung.”“Don’t mention it,” Jungkook denies him. “Just give my friend here a full-on makeover and we’ll be even.”Mark accepts his proposal with a casual nod, and Donghyuck hastily jumps at Yoongi again, taking him to the main room of the shop.“Consider it said and done, Jungkook-hyung!” Donghyuck exclaims as he drags Yoongi away from him. Paradise 127 is a nicely bizzarre place, Yoongi has to say. Even though the boutique itself isn’t that spacious, the too-many mirrors hanging on the deep night blue walls make it look bigger that its actual size. Right at the entrance, it’s Mark’s countertop adorned with dimmed spotlights, and that’s also where a long, narrow corridor starts and ends up into the central room. It doesn’t differ much from the kiss bang they used to work in when they were still in college. Fixed on the corridor’s panels there is quite a number of hangers and mannequins dressed in expensive brands, famous marques and labels his friends are obsessed with: Alexander Mc-something, fucking Gucci, stuff coming out of Moschino’s latest runways and Dior galore. Yoongi pales as his gaze slips over the clothes’ tags, their prices much higher than what he’d expected. He lets the clean cotton’s scent coming from the air fresheners tame his nerves, and when he finally reaches the pit, he gulps down his anxiety and takes a good look around him. Urban-styled outfits mingle with high-fashion dresses, classy and obnoxious items are all over the place. Mastermind and Chanel, Versace and Vuittons, uncountable articles of big foreign names. Sparkly suits and accessories flash into Yoongi’s eyes so brightly, he almost feels like he’s going blind. Too much luxury to take in all at once. Donghyuck doesn’t allow him to wander around for too long, as he takes the lead on Yoongi’s little mind-blowing tour right away. He shows Yoongi the best suits the boutique has in stock, picking out a few of them for Yoongi to try on immediately. Yoongi can’t fight off Donghyuck’s enthusiasm, so he ends up wearing half of the shop without daring to tell him to get a clue and just hand him over the cheapest night attire on the catalogue. When Jungkook and Mark peek into the corridor, Yoongi sees his lifeline. “Are you guys done yet?” Mark asks, and Donghyuck feebly shakes his head.“Nothing seems to fit right,” Donghyuck complains. “Any ideas?”Mark shots a glance toward the piles of clothes Yoongi’s left hanging on the tacky couches of the room, then he makes a turn for the hangers on his right side. Mark shoves off suit after suit until his eyes catch the glimpse of the most beautiful two pieces Yoongi’s ever seen. When Mark notices the flaring sparkle inside Yoongi’s eyes, he takes the suit off the hanger and he gives it to Yoongi without sparing. Yoongi doesn’t even look at the price-tag before he tucks himself into those velvety crimson pants and its matching skin-tight jacket. He quickly buttons up the black shirt Mark sorted him out in the meantime and then he watches his reflection in the wall-tall mirror behind his back.“Wow,” he whispers, feeling it as he turns on himself to take in every detail of his wine red outfit. “This is amazing.”“You really do look amazing, hyung,” Jungkook supports him, whereas Mark ties the belt around Yoongi’s jacket a little tighter. “It almost seems tailor-made. This is your suit, you rock it.”Donghyuck bites his upper lip, uncertain. “But you shouldn’t wear red at weddings,” he comments. Yoongi smirks as he gives them a twirl, fully satisfied with his appearance. “That’s exactly why I’m going to wear it,” he replies to Donghyuck. “It’s red and it’s distracting.”Jungkook smiles at Yoongi’s response; they’re clearly on the same page. “You have to, hyung,” he insists. “Come on, let’s buy this.”Yoongi couldn’t not agree with him. “On it,” he says, and Mark helps him getting out of the jacket. While Donghyuck takes the trouble of packing up the suit for Yoongi, Mark leads Yoongi and Jungkook to his personal saloon downstair. A full makeover for his friend, he’d promised Jungkook, and a full makeover is what Yoongi is about to get. “I have to retouch your roots, hyung” Mark advertises Yoongi, as he tilts Yoongi’s head toward the sink. “Since we’re already here, why don’t you go for a new color?”Yoongi shots himself a glance through the mirror in front of him. He hasn’t been taking care of his hair properly in ages. Hair dye became a luxury he couldn’t afford very often, so he just went on ignoring his aching black roots and limiting himself to decolorize his locks with supermarket’s bleaches. A very bad choice, if someone were to ask him. “Are you sure my scalp will survive?” he demands Mark nevertheless. “I guess so,” Mark replies, dubious. “But just in case, are you into the idea of going bald?”“Don’t you fucking dare,” he threatens Mark, but Mark doesn’t seem very intimidated by him. Of fucking course. He couldn’t intimidate anyone with those fuzzy wet hair at the top of his head and those eye bags darker than his punk days. Half an hour later, Jungkook is taking dozens of pictures of Yoongi’s freshly-dyed silver hair to send to Taehyung, bouncing animatedly on his own feet and running his finger across Yoongi’s strands to feel their smoothness. Yoongi would love to share his excitement, but he can’t help thinking about how much he owes him. The suit he chose didn’t look cheap, and neither does the hair treatment he just received. He might be not able to pay, after all. Once they’re at the counter, Yoongi keeps chewing his lips until Donghyuck shows him the bill. When the first row of zeros hits Yoongi right in the face, it’s a fair knockout. The suit alone costs more than his fucking house, there’s no way he can-“Here, Donghyuck,” Jungkook smashes his own credit card on the counter and urges the younger to take it. “I’m paying. You accept black cards, right?”“What?” Yoongi shots Jungkook his most skeptical glance. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you treating me, kid?”“I am,” Jungkook admits, unapologetic to the point he almost sounds sassy. “I spent so much money over stupid things, but this- This wedding is important, hyung. Let me buy these clothes for you, ok?”Yoongi’s doomed. Jungkook seems firm about his decision, and Mark and Donghyuck surely aren’t keen on the idea of unpacking the suit they’ve carefully selected for him.There’s nothing left to say, Yoongi has to succumb to Jungkook’s money. Succumb to the stronger power. “What’s the magic word, Gguk?” he teases the younger anyway, just to nourish his raging pride and put it to sleep for a little while. Jungkook blinks naively. “Alakazam?”“Please, Jungkook,” Yoongi corrects him, as Mark and Donghyuck get their good dose of laughters. “The magic word is please.”“Very well, then…” Jungkook conjuncts his hands in prayer. “Please, let me buy you this suit. I really, really, really want to.”Yoongi surrenders. Jungkook swipes his credit card, and just like that, it’s done. Before they can leave the shop, Mark and Donghyuck obligate Yoongi to drop by whenever he has the time to do so. Yoongi promises them he will, but deep inside he knows he won’t. Too much work and too short deadlines are waiting for him on the horizon. He sorely waves them goodbye, following Jungkook to his car. Yoongi’s quiet during the whole ride back home; Jungkook is more talkative than the usual instead. “Taehyung-hyung likes your new hair color. Oh, and he also said to use his money to pluck your eyebrows or something, since I paid for your suit. But I guess you could make use for a massage. Your posture is terrible. Are you sure your bones are in their right positions?”Taehyung. Goddamn right. Yoongi’s left some loose ends yesterday night, and the idea of Taehyung slipping out of his control again could drive him mad over time. “About Taehyung,” Yoongi says, seizing the chance as soon as it’s presented to him. “Can I ask you a favor?”Jungkook raises his eyebrows, his expression interrogative. “Sure?”“Keep an eye on him for me.”Jungkook doesn’t question his motives. He only needs to look at Yoongi once to fully get what he means, and he nods. “Alright,” he says. “Anything for you, hyung.”That’s exactly the retaliation he’s been wishing for, mute and understanding. Jungkook never disappoints him. Yoongi fastens his belt and Jungkook speeds up. So many unsaid things travel back and forth between the two of them, but they don’t have to voice out their thoughts to communicate with each other. Yoongi’s thank yous and Jungkook’s your welcomes would be redundant right now. Yoongi doesn’t need to drop his mask of indifference when he’s with Jungkook. Jungkook knows this is Yoongi’s way to feel comfortable around other people, so he never pushes him around until Yoongi drops it. Today for the first and last time Jungkook tried to rip that fucking mask off his face for once, but he was unsuccessful. He accepted his defeat in silence and allowed Yoongi to feast for a little longer. They’re both aware Yoongi’s pity party won’t last long anyway. The wedding is just a few nights away.“Wanna grab lunch at mine or something?” Yoongi asks the younger once they’re almost there, but Jungkook’s quick to refuse his offer. “I’m sorry hyung, but I’m going to be busy later,” he answers. “I have a bunny to take care of.”Yoongi shots him a withering glance. “Jungkook, your bunny is a stuffed toy.”“Ehy, watch it! Cooky has feelings too!” Jungkook laughs Yoongi’s concerns off, dragging Yoongi himself into his giggles. “Jokes aside, I must be prepared for tonight. Dad requested me as his assistant in his interrogations and stuff. I’m afraid I will have to throw hands, and my stomach is all messed up because of it.”“You’re going to be okay,” Yoongi reassures him. “As long as tough policemen love cute bunnies, the population is safe.”Jungkook’s smile widens as his worries cease to torment him. Yoongi’s aware of the influence his words have over Jungkook’s mind; he’s glad Jungkook trusts him enough to let him undo the ties his own conscience binds on him whenever he’s on duty. It’s the least Yoongi can do. Jungkook drops him on his front door, but before he takes off, he passes Yoongi his shopping bag. “I hope to see you performing in this suit one day, hyung,” he says. “Don’t give in just yet. I believe in you, I know you’re going to survive through this. Allow me and the others to take care of you from now on.”Yoongi’s legs quiver, but he manages to stay upright solely thanks to his stubbornness’ support.
No way.
There’s no way he’s allowing the others to see him in these conditions. He would rather die than let his friends take a good look into his weak state of mind and trap them all inside his mess. They’ve been there for him on his lonely night, but none of them has been there for him during his lonely days.Except Jungkook. Always Jungkook. Yoongi drops his shopping bag to the ground to take Jungkook’s hand into his own. Their link frissons as soon as their finger gets in contact, and the interval between the two of them shortens. They’re a dyad; together they’re the power chord of harmonic frequencies. They function best when they’re connected to each other. Yoongi feels better already. “Thank you, Ggukie.” Yoongi really means it. “Thank you so much.”“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Jungkook replies. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”“Hyung didn’t do anything special.”“Don’t say that.” Jungkook retreats his hand, placing it back on the wheel. “If it weren’t for you, maybe- Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten over Jimin-sii so quickly.”Yoongi lowers his head. At least one of them made it out just in time. He’s overjoyed Jungkook was the one who survived in their war of hearts. Jungkook deserved it more than him. “Let’s catch up soon, hyung,” Jungkook tells him in lieu of saying goodbye. “Have a good day!”Yoongi watches the younger taking off, his feet implanted to the concrete, unable to turn and go back home just yet. His house is so empty, and Yoongi is so tired of being alone all the time. He wished Jungkook stayed with him for a little longer, but he couldn’t bring himself to act egoistic with him over and over again. His greedy hands already took too much from Jungkook at the beginning. He has to satiate his solitude with what it’s remaining of those starting days. Satiate himself with memories of a triumphant past he’s never seeing happening again in his future. Yoongi met Jungkook when he needed him the most, his personal lupus in fabula who arrived just in time to shaken up his linear, static story and turn his life around in the best way possible. It’s summertime, mid-August. Bodies sticky with sweat and half-naked dudes are flouncing freely around Hoseok’s tiny uptown apartment, his reward for three whole years spent doing shitty underpaid jobs and a fuckton of hard work at the Academy he’d enrolled in when he was still a rising freshman. Yoongi couldn’t possibly have refused Hoseok’s invitation to his graduation party. Namjoon forced him to dress nicely and accompany him all the way up to the heights for the night, or else he threatened him to expose his lazy ass to Hoseok and convince Hoseok himself to drag his said lazy ass to the apartment either way. He had no choices but put his mind at ease and do whatever his ex roommate wanted him to do. Yoongi can handle Namjoon just fine, but there’s no way for him to deal with Hoseok and hope to make it out alive. Hoseok guaranteed them free alcohol and privacy days prior the party, but Yoongi must’ve predicted his premises were far too good to be true. Everyone knows Hoseok.Yoongi just had to spell out the first syllable of Hoseok’s name in public and all eyes would’ve been on him in a heartbeat. Hoseok is the fucking North Star of the town’s underground scenes, the iconic mirror ball above a dance floor worthy of its name. Students, elders and children alike had met him at a certain point of their lives and inevitably fell in love with his hypnotic charme. Yoongi himself would lie if he said he didn’t have a subtle crush on Hoseok back in the days. It’s impossibile not to know who Hoseok is and what he does. Hoseok is always around, living the big city’s life, minding everyone and no-one’s business. He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time, his name’s always on someone’s lips, spreading across the town like wildfire. That being said, Hoseok’s hosting at least three or four dozens of people tonight. Privacy is an unknown concept in Hoseok’s apartment and the free drinks he had promised him and Namjoon are basically mint flavored piss. Disgusting, but refreshing at least. “So, it’s pretty crowded here,” Namjoon says, sipping on his mint piss annoyingly. “And very noisy too,” Yoongi adds up, his voice barely audible in the uproar. “Why are we here, again?”“Because it would’ve been plain rude not to show up at your friend’s graduation party.”“I thought we cut down this kind of University’s fuckery last semester, when we got our degrees.”Namjoon shrugs Yoongi’s complain off. “We’re too old for this, but apparently Hoseok is not.”“Yeah, no shit.”Yoongi and Namjoon exchange a knowing gaze and raise their glasses. They make a toast to Hoseok’s newfound freedom and drink in silence. All around them it’s chaos and dancing inferno. Those who aren’t too busy making out against the walls are scattered across the living room drinking and screaming to each other at the top of their lunges to be heard over the deafening music. Hoseok is so getting fined for disturbing the peace because all of this. And speaking of the devil-“Ehy, ehy, ehy! If those handsome young men over here aren’t my besties!”Hoseok stumbles all the way to Yoongi and Namjoon’s seats, then he throws his drunken arms around their necks and brings them closer to him, folding them both in his excessively tight embrace. He stinks of cheap booze and sweat, but Yoongi doesn’t have the heart to shove him away. “Have you ever seen the sun shining so brightly?” Hoseok keeps yelling, and Yoongi starts to wonder if what he’s smelling on Hoseok is actually alcohol or something else; something a little bit stronger. “Hoseok, what the fuck,” Namjoon replies with a furrowed brow. “It’s midnight.”Hoseok shakes his head, but he does so too strongly, strangling both Namjoon and Yoongi in his hold. “I’m talking about me, man!” he exclaims, overly cheerful. “I am the midnight sun!”Namjoon shots Yoongi a glance, and Yoongi nods in agreement. They’re both aware Hoseok’s hype isn’t going to last long and that he’s already about to face the collateral effects of his alcohol withdrawal. An intoxicated Hoseok is not an easy Hoseok to deal with. That much Yoongi and Namjoon learned at their own expense during their all-nighters spent at the music club. They’re prepared for this, for Hoseok’s mood swing. “I think you should draw your party to an end, baby boy,” Yoongi tells him, trying to sound as convincing and suave as possibile to avoid getting on his nerves. “You’re past over your bed-time.”“Oh my God, are you flirting with me? Are you fucking flirting with me?” Hoseok gives him a dirty look, but his anger fades into giggles straight away. He goes sit on Yoongi’s lap and clamps him down, showering him with aggressive affection. “Don’t do that, please. What are the ladies going to think, watching me throb because of you?”“I don’t care about what your ladies think. As long as they don’t try to sit on my dick like you did, they’re fine by me,” Yoongi says, smooth like a goddamn motherfucker, just like how Hoseok wants him. It’s really a shame Hoseok doesn’t want him in that way. Yoongi would’ve made good use of Hoseok’s concupiscence, he just knows it. “I can’t believe you’re doing this in front of my pure eyes.” Namjoon comments, startling both Hoseok and Yoongi. “Please gentlemen, refrain yourselves from smooching while I try to enjoy my drink. I’m not looking forward to puking on the floor, thank you very much.”Hoseok shakes his head, then he turns to Yoongi. “He’s getting jealous,” he informs him. “What do we do? Do we offer him a threesome?”“Fuck no,” Namjoon deadpans, wrenching with utter disgust. “Maybe in your reverie.”Hoseok knits his brows. “What the fuck does reve… that thing mean?” “Daydream, you drunkass.”Hoseok suddenly stands, throwing himself all over Namjoon and accidentally kicking Yoongi in the shins in the process. Namjoon definitely didn’t see that coming, however he didn’t hesitate one second to take Hoseok into his arms, preventing him from falling on his ass.“Oh yeah, Joonie! Keep talking intellectual to me, you’re getting me all hot and bothered!” Hoseok screams, like he didn’t just risk to crack his tailbone or something. “Take me!”“I’m taking you to a madhouse if you don’t stop right here, hyung,” Namjoon advertises him, but Hoseok carries on laughing and squirming like a bloody drunkard. That’s exactly the moment Yoongi notices it. Hoseok’s eyes are wide open, his pupils so large and doll-like they’re almost creepy. His smell is way too weird to slip through the cracks, his posture stiff and unnatural. He’s been talking nonsense since he reached out for them, words slipping from his mouth like rotten honey. Hoseok-He’s not just drunk. “Ehy, have you looked around the room? So many people came, right?”He’s high as fuck. “Hyung, there’s someone you might be interested in here, tonight.”Yoongi trembles with anticipation, his soul quivering. “Do you want to see him?”No. The last person Yoongi wants to see tonight is him. Yoongi has been doing just fine without him all summer long, focusing on his ascending career and getting his friends back. Without him, he managed to talk to Taehyung and pour some sense into his crocked mind. He’s been spending time on himself, dwelling on inconsistent thoughts and making songs out of them. Without him, his worst distraction, Yoongi has been at his finest. But he’s here. He’s here tonight. Yoongi can easily track his aura even though he can’t see him. He can scent him on Hoseok, he can imagine glimpsing his silhouette standing in the strobe lighting. Yoongi doesn’t know where he is at the moment, and he doesn’t want to know, but Hoseok tells him anyway. He has to, just for the sake of inflicting Yoongi pain by stabbing him in the back. Hoseok doesn’t know how much it hurts. No one knows, and no one must ever know. “He’s came with that Jungoo- Jungkook kid,” Hoseok slurs. “Hot stuff.”Yoongi looks at Namjoon, hoping to find a diversion in him, but unfortunately for him, Namjoon seems quite interested in Hoseok’s mutters. “Jungkook? You mean the chief’s son?”“The one and only!” Hoseok says, pointing at someone on the other side of the living room, where the couches are. “In exchange of my invitation, he promised me he won’t report anything to his dad, so I could bring the good shit in.”Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “The good shit?”“Yeah, the good shit,” Hoseok mumbles. “That coke shit Jimin’s been selling lately.”Yoongi blinks once, twice, before he registers Hoseok’s sentence, repeating it over and over again in his head: the coke Jimin has been selling lately; Jimin has been selling coke. Lately. Lately, Jimin has been selling coke, the good shit.What?Yoongi launches himself forward, grabbing Hoseok by an elbow. “What did you just say about coke?”“The selling thing?” Hoseok asks, his tone placid as the sea during summer’s nights. “Jimin told me he leveled up and he’s selling coke now. The pay’s better, he said, but shit is dangerous. He has to handle it with care. He’s becoming an expert in the field, which is pretty bad. Once you’re in, it’s difficult to get the hell out of it. Poor Jiminie, he’s all messed up.”“Jimin? I met a Jimin not long ago,” Namjoon butts in, scratching his newly done septum, the circular barbells shining under the artificial lights. “At the tattoo shop where I made this. He’s kind of shortish, pink-haired, really cute and chatty.”“Yeah, you’re talking about my Jimin,” Hoseok confirms. “He’s been my pupil for years. We’re good acquaintance. And Yoongi’s too.”“Pink hair?” Yoongi repeats, shaking his head, trying to convince himself they aren’t thinking about the same person. “I don’t know any pink-haired Jimin.”“What the fuck are saying, hyung?” Hoseok jumps at him, snappy and harsh. “Of course you know Jimin. I lost the count of how many times you came to the music club with him months ago. He dyed his hair, like, a few weeks ago.”Fuck. This can’t be happening for real. He can’t be here. It can’t be true. Jimin-“Okay, now I’m sure the tattoo Jimin guy is also Yoongi’s Jimin guy,” Namjoon interferes, throwing Yoongi under the bus. “I can’t believe he’s that kind of guy. He seemed good. I liked him.”“Yeah, me too,” Hoseok comments. “We’re still friends, and I buy stuff from him sometimes, but-”“What are you talking about?” Yoongi barges in, sick of his own doubts. The truth is just a stone’s throw away, so close, and yet if feels too distant. He wants to get a grip on it once for all. “Jimin, the Jimin I know, doesn’t sell shit.”Hoseok looks at him silently, a shade of mortification blackening his once-smiley face. He’s suddenly quiet, his voice a mere whisper to his ear: “Hyung, Jimin is a pusher.”No. “He’s been one for years, never been caught.”It can’t be. Not Jimin. “One of the best dealer out there.”
Why Jimin?
“That Jungkook guy- He’s got him covered. Kid’s got a police squad at his back, of course he wouldn’t let his Jiminie get involved in a town’s scandal or something.”And who the fucking hell is Jungkook?Yoongi ignores Hoseok, throwing a glance to the crowd gathered around the couches. He follows Hoseok’s prior indication, his eyes scanning the room as swiftly as he can, discarding person after person. It doesn’t help that the lighting is poor, and that people are intermingled with other people, creating a compact, but muddled mass of bodies and unknown faces. When Yoongi finally sees him, he’s sure it’s him. Tall, dark and good-looking. His back’s turned to the crowd, his strong thighs stuffed in ripped jeans so tight, Yoongi could make out every tissue of his muscles. He’s wearing a dull tank-top and black shoes, guns sticking out the sleeveless shirt for display. Just by his attire, no one could tell he’s the police’s chief spoiled brat. He looks like a jock, overall. A carefree slob, an odd duck who’s swimming in a unknown pond. Now Yoongi surely remembers Jungkook. Wallflower by day, troublemaker by night. Jungkook is quite a looker, despite his young age. Everyone has heard about him at least once. He’s one of those crazy rich kid who don’t have to work a single day of their life to obtain whatever they want, getting everything served just for them on big plates made of gold at the snap of their fingers. Jungkook’s got his police daddy’s money in his pockets, tons of them. But it’s not like Yoongi can blame him. He would’ve taken advantage of his family’s name too, if his father weren’t a fucking cheating excuse of a jobless husband and his mother an anxious mess of a woman. It’s just natural Jimin involved Jungkook in his shit. Where there’s money, there’s Jimin, and Jungkook just happens to be a walking stack of bills. Yoongi almost feels sorry for this Jungkook kid. He has no idea how messy Jimin’s mind really is.Yoongi can’t see Jimin’s face from his seat, but he can surely catch sight of his small fingers wrapped around Jungkook’s dark locks, contrasting his own bright pink hair. Jungkook is holding him close, his arms thrown around Jimin’s waist. Maybe they’re kissing, maybe they’re just talking. That Yoongi doesn’t know, but he’s positive their faces are close, too close for comfort. There’s a shift, and suddenly Jimin’s eyes are watching above Jungkook’s shoulders, wary and attentive. His hands slide down from Jungkook’s hair to his spine, and from him spine to his back pockets, then he shoves them in shamelessly, perhaps trying to grope Jungkook’s ass. Yoongi’s about to turn his gaze away and sulk in silence when he catches the glimpse of a wallet in Jimin’s tiny hand. Jungkook’s wallet. Jimin puts it away, inside his own back pocket, and he reassumes massaging Jungkook’s scalp, like nothing happened. Jungkook, unaware of Jimin’s sneaky theft, just keeps embracing him, smiling absentmindedly at him, ignorant and happy. No way. There’s no way Jimin’s getting away with this, not on Yoongi’s watch. Yoongi stands from his seat; he doesn’t respond to Namjoon and Hoseok’s quizzical looks. He walks across the living room, his strides not as fast as he wishes, pushed by a raging driving force which is telling him to just go and do something, anything. It lasts a second. As soon as Yoongi appears in Jimin’s near sight, he jumps down Jungkook’s lap, hauling Jungkook by an arm to put him on his feet. Yoongi sees Jimin whispering something nasty to Jungkook’s ear, a vague: “My body tastes like your favorite type of whisky, wanna take a sip?”Jungkook nods feverishly, allowing Jimin to drag him all the way to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of Hoseok’s living room. Yoongi curses through his teeth, as Jimin turns to him to flash him a devious smile. He thinks he’s safe there. He thinks Yoongi won’t reach out for him, if he mingles with the guests, bathing in others’ ravenous stares and attentions. He knows Yoongi won’t throw himself into the tide just for him. Secure of his position, Jimin starts moving his head in tune, following the beat of the commercial song pumping in the speakers with his feet. He’s all over Jungkook, whose hands are firm around Jimin’s neck. The bass’s boosted, and Jimin drops to his knees. He plays with Jungkook’s loose belt, sticking his tongue out to lick his own rosy lips, dirty as he can be. Jungkook is looking down on him, his moves so uncertain, he looks like a baby animal who’s attempting to nail his first steps. He barely wiggles his hips, as Jimin does all the hard work. Jimin’s light on his feet, arching his back and bending his arms to put on a show just for the man before him. He pulls Jungkook in, guiding their bodies toward each other and putting them together like two pieces of the same puzzle. Once they’re close enough, Jimin sticks his leg between Jungkook’s and rolls his hips, waving against Jungkook’s crotch. Jungkook throws his head back in delight, his eyes shouted, and that’s when his rigidity completely crumbles down. Jungkook’s dancing moves are no match for Jimin’s, but his footworks are quite impressive to Yoongi’s eyes, to say the least. The kid is bold, but his back is rigid and his lines aren’t harmonic, unlike Jimin’s. He’s powerful, his moves broad and captivating, and yet he looks somehow lazy to Yoongi, marking his steps just for the sake of it. He looks like he could do much better if only-If only Jimin weren’t in his way. Yoongi watches them from afar, unable to overtake his insecurities and just jump in the damn crowd already. Jimin keeps shooting him glances from time to time, cautious eyes on Yoongi’s. Jungkook stands right there, dancing and moving like nobody’s looking at him, his arm still wrapped around Jimin’s shoulders. They’re so close, so fucking close, it’s driving Yoongi crazy. Yoongi takes a step forward, then he turns back; he takes two steps forth and three backwards. He’s in the rear, making sure Jungkook’s wallet is still inside Jimin’s back pocket and hoping Jungkook will notice it at some point. But Jungkook doesn’t. He’s too starry-eyed to notice anything at all. Yoongi has to slap this Jungkook kid awake in order to make him come back to his senses. He can’t let Jimin win this match. He can’t keep losing to Jimin every fucking time. He has to rip this innocent guy out of Jimin’s little, yet destructive hands. He has to save him.He has to. Yoongi gathers his flickering spark of motivation with both of his hands and shoves people out of his trail. It feels like marching upwind. Grabby hands try to hold him back, bad breaths on his neck and people grinding against him. Yoongi protects his wobbling flame by crossing his arms on his chest, pushing them all out of his path. He must look pathetic, but he doesn’t care. He can’t bring himself to care. If he starts paying attention to people’s talks, he won’t be able to help Jungkook out. His plan is simple and clean. He approaches Jimin from behind, blending in the crowd, and once he’s close enough to strike, he reaches out for Jimin’s back pocket. He takes the wallet out, he gives it back to Jungkook, and just like that, it’s done. He’s tonight’s mvp. Except, his plan doesn’t work out. At all. Yoongi’s halfway through his supposedly smart arrangement, when someone abruptly seizes his wrist. Shock runs across Yoongi’s blood, pumping adrenaline into his system right away. As soon as he looks up, Yoongi notices Jungkook is hovering over him, his eyes large and intimidating. Just like Hoseok, Jungkook looks and smells stoned as fuck. “What the hell are you trying to do? Is that my wallet?”Yoongi doesn’t take long to realize where’s standing in Jungkook’s prospective; he has to think fast and precisely to avoid any misunderstanding. “Jimin took it,” he says straightforward, not daring to turn around to face Jimin just yet. “He stole it and-” “Fucking liar!”Jungkook’s unexpected yell makes Yoongi step back. He definitely didn’t see Jungkook’s attitude coming, and Jimin-Jimin is nowhere in sight around them. “What the-” Yoongi turns back to Jungkook and he sees it. He sees pitch black holes in the depth of his eyes, unfocused and sharp like a pair of daggers, ready to cut him in two halves. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t take your wallet. Jimin did it. I just picked it up from his pocket, I swear.”“Do I look stupid?” Jungkook replies, his mouth twitching. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you victimize my friend? Wow, you’re really an idiot.”“An idiot,” Yoongi repeats to himself. “I am an idiot because I tried to give you back your fucking wallet, which Jimin stole under your nose. Really, now? Who’s the idiot between the two of us?”Jungkook mutters something Yoongi can’t catch, the music too booming for him to make out anything from his speech, but when he asks Jungkook to speak louder, Jungkook brutally interrupts him by knocking him out of his way. Jungkook moved so goddamn fast, Yoongi notices he’s grounded only when Jungkook presses down on him with his whole body. Yoongi struggles to free himself from Jungkook’s pin, feeling Jungkook’s hands around his neck, chocking him. Yoongi can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. Never he could’ve predicted Jungkook turning the table on him without a moment’s notice. He was dancing and laughing with Jimin just seconds ago, and now he looks ready to murder him at any instant. Yoongi didn’t know cocaine turned people into vicious beasts. Yoongi didn’t know Jimin turned people into vicious beasts.Jungkook’s still on him, but at least the crowd is slowly starting to vanish before Yoongi’s eyes. Once he can’t see anyone around them anymore, he takes up Jungkook’s challenge. He snaps his hips forward, grabbing Jungkook from both of his elbows and resisting the pressure. Jungkook stumbles, and that’s when Yoongi attacks, kicking his groin as strongly as he can. Jungkook yelps in pain, tossing himself on one side, and Yoongi takes the chance to flee. Yoongi’s barely upstanding, when Jungkook uses him to get back on his own feet, tackling him. This time around, Jungkook doesn’t go straight for his neck. He clenches his fists and swiftly punches Yoongi in the face, fair and square. Yoongi’s right cheek is numb, and his nose’s hurting like hell, but he’s quick to get on the defense. He steadies himself, finding his centre of balance, and before Jungkook can hit him once more, he anticipates him, jarring him first. Jungkook trips over his own feet, and all around them it’s a screaming mayhem. People are yelling at them, telling them to stop, but they can’t. They can’t just stop. The music suddenly fades into a disturbing buzzing sound, and that’s also the moment Yoongi sees Namjoon and Hoseok running in his direction with the corner of an eye, but his gaze gets deviated straight away by Jungkook’s tall frame barricading his view. Jungkook rams into him, knocking him out again. Yoongi tries to hook him, attempting to push him away, but Jungkook’s way too heavy for him, and dodging his blows from his submissive position is just impossible. Hit after hit, smash after smash, within disarray and loud noises, Yoongi’s view darkens. Dark, darker, and yet darker, until he can’t see any longer. Out of the blue the pressure on his chest is as light as a feather, but when he tries to open his eyes and move his arms, he remains still. He can’t move, he can’t breathe through his nose, and his lips are livid in sticky crimson blood. There’s nothing left to do for him.Yoongi rests his heavy head on the floor and lets his senses slip away. Jungkook blew on his candle, and Yoongi’s out of play. Orange. Behind his eyelid, it’s blood orange. Yoongi cracks his right eye open, but when he attempts to disclose the other one, a piercing pain tears him apart. Although his view is too narrow to catch what’s around him in just one glance, Yoongi notices the white, suffocating walls matching the sheets messily thrown over his unmoving body. It smells like antiseptic and lilies. It smells like death. Yoongi’s in a hospital. Scattered memories of yesterday’s night occur to him, bombing his tired head with unanswered questions and chaotic bewilderment.Where did Jimin go? And what about Namjoon and Hoseok? What happened to Jungkook, and how did the party end? When did he arrive here, and above all, who brought him to this hospital?So many interrogatives, so few responses. Yoongi tilts his head on one side of the soft cushion on which he’s resting and he sees a bunch of colorful flowers laying on the cabinet next to his bed, a kaleidoscope of green stems and radiant petals. Yoongi reaches out for the bouquet, and a piece of paper falls down from its yellow wrapping. It’s a letter.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi-hyung.
I don’t really know what to say, except I’m truly sorry.
I ran away because I didn’t want to tell you the truth, but I guess it’s too late. Jungkook must’ve told you by now, and if he didn’t, Hoseok-hyung surely did.
I should’ve stopped Jungkook, but I didn’t. It’s my fault you were hurt.
I should’ve talked to you, but I didn’t. It’s my fault you’re confused now.
I hope you can forgive me one day, and moreover, I want you to forgive Jungkook. He is a good boy, but he needs someone to tame him. I took advantage of his inexperience and turned a perfectly fine guy into a monster. I know I should be the one to fix up this mess for him, but I can’t.
I can’t, as I need help myself.
I wish you could fix him up. I know you can. You’re patient and kind, just right for Jungkook. Please, be his guide. I beg you to take care of him, as I won’t be able to do anything for him but ruin him further. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve any of this.”
Tell him hyung’s sorry and that I will pay him a visit as soon as things calm down. It’s not safe for me to be around lately; I’m sure he will understand.
And you will too, at some point.
I promise you.”
Jimin.He didn’t sign up the letter, but Yoongi’s one hundred percent sure he’s the one who wrote it and left those flowers there for him. Yoongi fights the urge to roll the letter into a ball and trash it, his gaze lingering on Jimin’s pretty handwriting and his empty promise. It has been months, but Yoongi just can’t move on him. He can’t stay away from Jimin. Yoongi is one of those people who try to fix broken contacts. The red string which links him to Jimin may be thin, but it’s still there, and Yoongi is willing to repair it insofar as it is possible. Why can’t they tie the knot already and just talk, sort things out together?Yoongi is longing for answers. He desperately needs them, and he needs them now. “Yoongi-ssi?”Yoongi stills, caught off guard by the feeble voice coming from behind him. When Yoongi turns around, he doesn’t expect to find Jungkook, the same guy who knocked him down, sitting on the bed parallel to his, wrapped in whitish, cozy blankets and sipping a tall glass of hot milk. He’s wearing a soft flannel pajama and his bed hair is hideously messy. He almost looks cute, overall. “I’m sorry, I saw you tossing around the sheets and I was wondering-,” he suddenly hiccups, accidentally pouring some milk on his shirt. “I was wondering if you were up already.”“I am, as you can see,” Yoongi cautiously replies, glancing Jungkook from distance. He doesn’t trust the demon before his eyes. “Where are we?”“We’re at the public hospital, this is my parents’ private room,” Jungkook hastily replies to him. “I… I might’ve punched you yesterday night, but I don’t really remember. Your friend, Namjoon-ssi, came by some hours ago and he told me. He said we got into a pretty serious fight, and we both collapsed at the end. I’m fine, but you- You’re bruised all over. Did I… Did I actually hurt you that badly?”Yoongi shuts his mouth, taking time to reflect over before he answers Jungkook. Thinking back to yesterday night, Yoongi can’t really point fingers to Jungkook. He was high, after all. Hoseok clearly told him there was cocaine running from hand to hand in his apartment. Yoongi can’t blame an intoxicated person for their mistakes. The Jungkook he’s facing this morning isn’t the same Jungkook he fought yesterday. Evidently Jungkook wasn’t himself when he attacked him. There’s no other explanation for his sudden change of character. “You did,” Yoongi honestly replies. “But it’s not entirely your fault. I riled you up by calling you an idiot.”“An idiot?” Jungkook raises his brows. “I don’t recall.”“I swear I did,” Yoongi insists. “Jimin stole your wallet and when I tried giving it back to you, you thought I was the one who stole it in the first place. So I insulted you. That’s what I do best, apparently.”“Oh my God.” Jungkook places the glass on the cupboard next to him and hides his face between his hands. “Holy shit, I’m really an idiot. Jimin-ssi…”“About Jimin,” Yoongi speaks up, seizing the chance. “You told me you’re friends, yesterday night. Hose- An acquaintance of mine also informed me you’re involved with him and his business somehow.”Jungkook drops his hand down, and this time around Yoongi can finally watch him closely. So, so many stars inside Jungkook’s pitch black eyes.Nebulas are colliding in his irises, explosions and flaring meteors ruling over his unsteady gaze. There are no allowed restrictions, but a constant revolve around his ever changing thoughts. Nothing is created, nothing is destroyed, everything is transformed. In the always-expanding galaxy behind Jungkook’s eyelids, it’s impossible to trace a precise map of his ego. And Yoongi comes to think, that’s how the universe must’ve looked like at the beginning of time. Jungkook’s just a newborn constellation who needs to be shaped in order to stabilize himself. Yoongi is no craftsman, but he’s willing to give Jungkook’s soul a form, just like Jimin asked him.
Jimin.
Jimin, on the other hand, is pure quantic foam. There’s no way for Yoongi to create something steady out of him. Made of explosive bubbles and chaos, Jimin is his champagne dream, and dreams are meant to remain so. Luckily for Yoongi, Jungkook’s made of malleable, tangible mass, instead. “I’m not Jimin-ssi’s friend.” Jungkook lowers his head in shame. “Or at least, Jimin-ssi doesn’t consider me a close friend of his. I guess I’m just a client for him.”“A client, uh?” Yoongi scratches the itching patch wrapped around his head. “Then you’re a stoner, I take it.”“You could say so,” Jungkook admits, but by the blank expression on his face, Yoongi can tell he’s not proud of it. “When I first met Jimin-ssi, I couldn’t help but fall in temptation and try out whatever he offered me. You know, I had money to spare, and I innocently thought… I thought I could help Jimin-ssi out if I bought stuff from him.”“Help him out?” Yoongi frowns. “What do you mean?”“You see,” Jungkook resumes. “Jimin-ssi is poor. Like, really poor. He told me he sells drug in order to make a living out of them, to pay his debts off. I’m not sure about what he was talking about, but his motivations moved me and I- I just complied. I wanted to give him money without forcing them on him. I wanted him to take them and pay these debts of his off, at first.”“But then you got addicted.”“I did,” Jungkook confirms, embracing himself in the blankets. “And it is horrible. Just like yesterday night, I happen to lose my temper without noticing it. I fought so many people, and I remember none of their faces nor their names. Nothing at all.”“Why do you buy those stuff from Jimin, then?” Yoongi can’t help but ask. “You’re aware they’re bad, and yet you keep doing them. Why?”“I can’t have enough,” Jungkook says. “I need them before I show up in public every morning. Cocaine makes me less nervous. I don’t- Interacting with people is kind of difficult for me. I know it sounds absurd, but I don’t have many friends. I don’t really fit in.”Goddamn it. Yoongi wasn’t expecting royalty to experience the same problems he’s been through for all his life. “What about your parents?” Yoongi questions him, trying to subvert their topic. “Do they know about your addiction?”Jungkook slowly nods. “They do,” he says. “And they hate me because of that.”“It can’t be. They’re still your parents.”“I don’t know about your background, Yoongi-ssi, but mine is a little… strict, let’s say.”“I can imagine that much,” Yoongi says, then he shakes his head. “Let’s make an agreement. I can conceal all your mistakes, if you give me the chance to do so, Jungkook. I’m not going to report you to your father, but you have to promise me one thing: you have to take rehab in consideration and free yourself from your addiction.”Jungkook widens his eyes. “What about Jimin-ssi? If I don’t buy from him anymore-” “If you buy stuff from Jimin, you’re just going to keep oiling the mechanism in which he’s stuck,” Yoongi ruthlessly interrupts him. “You’re the police chief’s son, aren’t you? How come you don’t know such a basic rule? You do not feed illegal drug trades. You just don’t, especially if you’re aware of its consequences. Do you really want to help Jimin?”“Of course I do.”“Then you have to collaborate with your father and destroy the damn industry. Easy peasy.”“Easy?” Jungkook winces in disagreement. “I’m not sure I can do this. My father… My family always had too high expectations of me, and I did nothing but fail them all the time. They don’t listen to my concerns anymore. I don’t think I can help Jimin through my dad’s team.”“You have to try,” Yoongi persists. “You never know until you try.”“They’re scared of me,” Jungkook rebuts. “I rioted against them so many times, and I almost got into a fight with my older brother not long ago. They won’t help me, I’m telling you.”Yoongi momentarily gives in. He takes a good look at Jungkook, and he leisurely unravels the afraid child hiding within his heart. Jungkook somehow reminds him of Peter Pan. His own mother used to tell Yoongi this story every night before bedtime when he was still a child: Peter Pan didn’t want to grow up because he didn’t want to take the responsibilities of his careless actions. He just wanted to have fun all the time and cause troubles in Neverland. But this is no Neverland. This is the real world, and Jungkook’s an adult. Jungkook is no Peter Pan. Now Yoongi sees the reason why Jimin begged him to take care of him and guide him. Jungkook really has no fucking idea about how to behave in crisis, and yet he has the potential to put order to Jimin’s mess. Yoongi just has to direct him toward the right path. Of course. Of fucking course. Jimin calculated all of this. He calculated Yoongi and Jungkook’s meeting. He did it on purpose. “You already had your dose of fun and experiments, Jungkook,” Yoongi tells him, reasonably so, consciously following the path Jimin’s prepared for him. “Now it’s time to fix your mistakes. You’re pretty strong, aren’t you? You can just enroll in your dad’s team and gain their trust over time. You will cut down drugs and you will take time to get better.”“But Jimin-ssi-”“Allow me to handle his situation,” Yoongi says. “I swear I will get him out of his mess. I will find a fucking way.”Jungkook’s stare suddenly lightens up. “Can you do it?”“Of course I can,” Yoongi promises him. “I can, and I will.”“Then, please,” Jungkook slightly bows before Yoongi, his eyes teary, but full of trepidation. “Please, help him. I love him so much, but I don’t know how to save him. If you can, please, I beg you to do it.”“Don’t worry, I’ve got this. But you have to promise me one last thing.”
Selfish.
“You won’t get anywhere near him until the case’s solved.”Egoist. “You won’t jump the gun, kid. You’re still too young to be chasing love, after all.”Yoongi’s so damn selfish, so fucking egoist. “I know you really feel the urge to pull the trigger sometimes, but right now we have to be careful. Moreover, I think you’re too starry-eyed to see the ugly side of Jimin. I’m not sure how you fell in love with him, but it’s not worth it.” He’s the only one who’s allowed to love Jimin.He’s the only one who must suffer because of him. “I’m sorry Jungkook, but I can’t let you love Jimin anymore.”Weak as he is, Yoongi couldn’t fight off a rival like Jungkook. In the open field, Yoongi would be defenseless, the quickest to run off of motivation and discharge of his mission. Jungkook, on contrary, looks like he has plenty of determination up his sleeve. Jungkook’s eyes are the sparkliest stars of the whole firmament, and Jimin loves, loves, loves sparkly little things.Yoongi can’t risk it. “Alright,” Jungkook says, as Yoongi drowns himself in humiliation and remorses. “Then I won’t get in contact with Jimin until you say it’s okay to do so. Gotcha, hyung. Can I call you hyung, yeah?”Hell. Yoongi is an awful, pitiful man. “Sure you can.”Jungkook smiles at him, and Yoongi can’t help but feel like shit. He’s the shittiest human being who’s ever walked on earth. The worst. “Thank you, hyung,” Jungkook says. “And I’m sorry, you know-”Yoongi points at his own patches. “Are you apologizing about these?” He shakes his head. “There’s no need to. I mean, you broke my nose. It was awesome. Teach me how to do that.”“Well, it’s not that hard. You see, when you tackle down someone…”Yoongi silently listens to Jungkook talking about defensives moves and counterattacks, guns and other weapons, a whole dictionary Jungkook’s inherited from his father. A dictionary of which Yoongi couldn’t care less. But somehow, Yoongi finds Jungkook’s voice comforting, a dancing wind chime ringing in his tired ears. Yoongi drifts off to inconsistent thoughts and wild ideas. He thinks about Jimin, mostly. Jimin must have enough money to feed Yoongi’s addiction right now, but Yoongi doesn’t have enough money to feed Jimin’s. If only Jimin feasted on negative emotions and men’s greed, if only he gave him a chance, Yoongi would’ve made it up for him. He would do anything for him. If taking care of Jungkook is a way to soothe his worries, Yoongi will gladly do so. Yoongi failed in saving Taehyung, but this time around, he won’t mess up. He won’t mess up with Jungkook.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The man standing in front of Yoongi is a man of no words. He remains still, rigid as a statue, as Yoongi scrutinizes him closely. His gaze is unyielding, but his pupils are made of watery metal, ceaseless, pure mercury spilling out of his dark eyes at every slight movement of his head. Yoongi knows better than deviating and messing up those long stares of his. He’s well aware the calmness they display on the surface is a fucking trap. Underneath those placid waters, it’s a bursting stream of self-consciousness and negative feelings. Rage, frustration, envy, fear, resentment. Hate.Love. The most dreadful emotions, this man has collected them all as scattered mementos over a whole lifetime. Falling and inevitably drowning into them is just a careless step away along the edge of that black river. He has to be extra cautious around him. If Yoongi heats him up, all the overflowing mercury in his ferine eyes is going to vaporize. By inhaling that toxic air, poison might get stuck into his lungs and travel all the way up to his brain throughout his blood, killing him on the spot. Death by air intoxication is silent and petty, just like the man himself. Yoongi tilts his neck on the right, the man before him tilts his neck on the left. Yoongi rises a hand, the man raises the other one. When Yoongi breathes, the man breathes, his inspirations as fast-paced as Yoongi’s. He mimics Yoongi’s every single action the way a shadow would. He’s trying to annoy him, but Yoongi doesn’t let him get on his nerves. It’s not worth it fighting off a non-existing person, after all.This man is just a husk, he is the embodiment of the void Yoongi’s soul left behind when it decided to abandon him and depart from his chaotic world once for all. He is nothing. He is zilch. And Yoongi is not scared of oblivion. He’s been dealing with nihility for years now. He has got nothing to gain, he has got nothing to lose. The man’s skin is slowly reddening. The first spurt of weakness runs across his legs, dizziness striking him hard and fast. All around them it’s a ever-spinning carousel. Yoongi can’t distinguish the outlines of the walls, he can’t see where the ceiling ends and the floor begins anymore. The artificial lighting is dazzling, and it makes his pale skin glow up like a cherry about to explode. Yoongi has to stop this. He has to stop him before it is too late. Yoongi stabilizes himself by grabbing onto the sink with both hands. He looks up, and he sees the man in the mirror panting, engulfing in his own venom inch by inch, until he’s so head deep in that thick mercury he can’t move nor breathe anymore. Yoongi, on the other hand, is already coming back to his senses, his wind now slow and steady, heavy and yet fulfilling, gulping down his anxiety in one swift shot. It serves him right. He shouldn’t have tried to bring Yoongi down to the bottom with him. Yoongi isn’t keen on the idea of croaking tonight. Not on Namjoon’s bachelor party. Yoongi turns his gaze away from the mirror, forcing himself to calm the fuck down by swallowing his chill pills raw. It’s damn hard swill down anything at all when there’s a flood spreading inside his chest and his throat feels like it is on fire, but he works up his courage and endures the pain anyway, till the pill’s effects take on his mind and put his unfounded worries to rest. He’s fine now. He’s going to be fine for a few hours, possibly all night long. Yoongi throws one last glance at himself through the mirror. He combs his hair, trying to make the silver mess on his head look like a hot mess, and he puts his poor-quality cologne on. He folds his black shirt’s sleeves, he buckles up his leather belt, and once he’s done, he finally leaves his house. Seokjin and Hoseok don’t make him have a long wait on his porch. As soon as Seokjin’s car appears in his sight, Yoongi takes a lungful gulp of fresh air and steps out of his spent garden. Seokjin pulls in and Yoongi jumps in the car, seating next to Hoseok. “Hello there, flower boy,” Hoseok greets him, whereas Seokjin flashes him a beaming smile. “Are you ready?”They both look amazing tonight. They always do, but on this particular evening they’ve clearly stepped their gorgeousness game up. Seokjin is wearing golden cufflinks -fucking golden cufflinks- on his sleeves, his pastel blue dress shirt neatly ironed and buttoned all the way up to the top. Seokjin is possibly the only man who can make a checked waistcoat and matching vintage trousers look good in the twenty-first century. Yoongi honestly doesn’t know how the hell Seokjin manages to do that; he’s inhuman in terms of beauty and elegance, the perfect balance between whimsiness and grace.On the other hand, Hoseok’s allure is made out of artistry and it spreads positive vibes in every direction. His suit is as green as his mindset, bright and yet grounding. Yoongi knows the emeralds he’s wearing on his ears are the jewelry fruits Hoseok carefully planted and grew in his own sunken garden in the span of ten years of damn hard work, watered by his blood, sweat and tears. Hoseok never stopped, he never lost a beat, until he found himself a nice spot among the best choreographers of the country. His motivation paid off his desperate efforts, and Hoseok made a lifestyle out of his never-ending hope. It doesn’t matter how close they are, Yoongi never feels like he fits in when they’re together. Hoseok and Seokjin live on a planet four-and-a-half light hours away from Yoongi’s. If their orbits were to collide, Yoongi’s little world would be easily swept away by their stronger gravity forces, succumbing to the overwhelming pressure they unconsciously apply on him. Yoongi has yet to find the right distance between the three of them in order to not to keel over himself when they hang out.“I am,” he bluntly lies, just to keep the conversation going. “What about you guys?”“I can’t wait to get wasted,” Seokjin replies first. “Namjoon promised me Martinis and he better give me all the Martinis I deserve for filling in his marriage license.”“Man, I’m so fucking excited,” Hoseok comments. “Can you believe this? Namjoon is getting married. Tomorrow is his big day. I can already hear the bells in distance, that’s the shit!”Yoongi grunts. “And you want him to get a hangover the day before his wedding.” He shakes is head in disagreement. “He’s going to revoke your besties’ cards and he will refrain you from attending his big day if you get him shitfaced.”They must not have noticed the hint of sarcasm in Yoongi’s voice, as they both burst out laughing at his statement. Once their grins diminish, Hoseok hands Yoongi over a huge bouquet of roses, urging him to give it to their favorite groom as a gift on their part as soon as they reach the restaurant. “You’re the flower boy now, after all,” Hoseok remarks, and there’s nothing Yoongi can do about it, except roll his eyes annoyingly and grunt. Hoseok is right: Yoongi’s part during the wedding’s ceremony has seriously been downgraded to a support role. There’s nothing left for him to do apart bringing in flowers and bad vibes. Yoongi is going to be a terrible, dreadful guest; an extra on the list, an old friend who’s still somehow relevant enough to invite over and spend a festive night with. He’s well aware of it, but it’s not like he will try to do something to change this prospective anyway. He will just accept his place in the fatalistic way he’s always pursued. Cynicism is the only belief in which Yoongi trusts nowadays, the singular truth that never disappoints him. Hoseok and Seokjin keep talking about tonight’s plans while Yoongi gradually drifts off toward his safe island, his fucked-up state of mind, a place known by nobody except himself. He still doesn’t have an opinion about Namjoon and Jimin’s wedding. They’ve been dating for six… No, maybe seven or eight years. Fuck, he doesn’t remember. He doesn’t care enough to remember well. The last thing he perfectly recalls is Namjoon’s sudden visit years prior during which he told him Jimin was alright and that he was going to take care of him from then on just like Yoongi asked him to do. He doesn’t know why or when they stared seeing each other, how they fell in love -if they’re actually in love-, where their future projects are headed to. Truth is, Yoongi doesn’t want to know, and he wishes he never will. He just wants to get over this quickly and as painlessly as possible, forget about his past with Jimin and move on. Move on. How the fuck is he supposed to move on, when his feet are stuck into quicksands which only make him sink deeper in his loneliness whenever he tries to get the hell out of it?He already refused Taehyung’s proposal, and Jungkook can only offer him a certain amount of affection before he totally disgorges his not-so-infinite resources of love. And Namjoon-Namjoon is going to be too busy enjoying his brand new married life to pay him any attention at all. Yoongi sulks as Hoseok throws an arm around his shoulders and tries to distract him. “We’re going to have fun,” he assures Yoongi. “We’re going to drink and complain about our jobs like we used to do years ago. Aren’t you looking forward to seeing Namjoon? Why are you pouting, hyung?”“I’m not fucking pouting,” Yoongi harshly responds to him. “I’m just… I’m tired. I’ve been working like a goddamn stakhanovite everyday lately. Have mercy.”Hoseok doesn’t question him, then he suddenly turns around to shot Seokjin a knowing look through the rearview mirror. Seokjin nods, and without saying a word, he presses the gas pedal. Their exchange of glances is so brief Yoongi barely acknowledges it. They pass by the busiest districts of the city; night pubs, shops and skyscrapers are all mingled into one big picture in motion, a confused mix-up of strobe lights and black asphalt, stable geometric forms reduced to a net of topsy-turvy lines. Yoongi used to like speed, now there’s nothing he despises more. He got rid of his motorcycle once he started working as a producer to make a few hundreds out of it, and since then his life has been constantly decelerating. Days, months, years, they’re not all that relevant to Yoongi anymore. Time is nothing but an illusion, a way to give order to something otherwise incontrollable. Time can’t be owned, time can’t be controlled, and time is never enough. Yoongi just lets it happen, he lets it have his way, he doesn’t resist it. Time may be an untamed beast, but it is also the strongest medicine, and Yoongi is longing for a sweet drug to take his pain away, either forever or just for a little while.Seokjin drives down the secondary streets silently, focused on his task. They haven’t reached the main lane yet when Hoseok points at something standing outside the window and he asks Seokjin to stop. Yoongi follows Hoseok’s indication, and he opens his eyes wide at the unexpected sight before them. They’re at the river. Yoongi recognizes the pier, where various sized boats are attached to the moorings lined up across the boardwalk. Sailboats are dancing along with the soothing waves, the autumn breeze gently caressing their high jibs.The moon floating among the streams is bright, its size not bigger than a fist. Fiercely standing between the smaller cruise ships it’s a streaking white yacht. The lights are turned on and the motor is roaring, meaning it is about to depart. Yoongi’s pretty damn sure they are supposed to have dinner on dry land. What the fuck are they doing here?“Here’s your stop, Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin says, his grin never leaving his full lips. “Come on, get the fuck down before I kick your sorry ass out.”Yoongi raises his brows. “Excuse me?”“Excuse you, indeed,” Hoseok barges in, as he shoves Yoongi off the seat, harshly pushing him out of the car. “Go and make an entrance. We’re rooting for you.”“Wait, what about-”“Don’t worry about Namjoon, we’re going to cover you,” Seokjin interrupts him, anticipating Yoongi’s rebut. “Life is too short to spend it over some stupid doubts and unfinished business, don’t you think?”As things stand, Yoongi can’t help but agree with Seokjin.He’s been waiting for responses to his pending answers for years, and maybe now it is too late to demand them, but just like the man in the mirror said before, he’s got nothing to lose. He’s willing to give it a shot. He’s willing to give Jimin one last chance to explain himself.The hands of the timepiece start turning counterclockwise.“Thank you, guys.” Yoongi says, finally baring his aching heart to them. The ties which have been chaining his feelings to his brain are now loose enough for Yoongi to speak his mind freely, letting his emotions take over and refracting like waves against the shoreline. It feels so liberating, Yoongi is soaring to cloud nine. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I swear I won’t waste it.”“You will if you don’t hurry up,” Seokjin urges him as he points his chin to the outstanding yacht about to leave the pier. “Get on board already and talk to Jimin. Properly.”Yoongi nods, and that’s all it takes for Seokjin to catch the hint and pull the engine. Hoseok waves his hand at Yoongi in lieu of goodbye as Seokjin drives past the dock, leaving Yoongi alone to face his fate. And Yoongi comes to think, it’s now or never. Over and over again. He hasn’t got any other chances to spare. Past is in the past, future is uncertain; the only nick of time he owns is right now, and Yoongi has to make somehow a forever out of this little while. Yoongi slips his hand in his own front pocket, grasping the pack of cigarettes he always carries around for confort. Feeling its heaviness fill up his fingers is just a brief relief, but it is still better than nothing. He can’t smoke right now; he doesn’t want to take a drag above the pretty flowers he’s holding and accidentally intoxicate them with his ashes. The roses-Right, he’s carrying roses around. Fucking Hoseok. Him and Seokjin really did plan all of this in advance, by and large. What more can Yoongi say? They’ve always been a couple of steps ahead of him. Shame on him for turning in such a lazy ass during the past few years. Yoongi chews on his dried lips as he walks across the pier, looking for the yacht’s boarding ramp. As soon as he gets on it, the ramp trembles underneath his feet, and the first burst of motion sickness stuns him. Yoongi holds on the railing for dear life, taking one careful step at time, until he’s fully aboard. Luxury washes over him in just one single, first glance. The wooden deck is glimmering under the light of the orangish lanterns hung all around the cockpit. Three steps into the first deck, Yoongi finds himself wandering among huge, but vacant rooms and storages, wooden walls painted in glamorous white and furnitures in vanity style. Each turn he makes is a shift closer to the biggest unknown. It feels like walking around Wonderland, except the wonders he’s collecting over there aren’t made of the same substance of starry dreams. This Wonderland is a tangible place, a castle which stays afloat thanks to piles and piles of cash and sails across oceans of golden coins, fueled by cupidity and opulence. Yoongi is already bored of the materialistic world Jimin lives in. He just can’t see the appeal in it. Everything is so perfect and nicely embedded in the whole picture it almost looks fake all together. It feels like taking a bite out of the biggest, reddest apple of the basket, only to find out it is made of plastic, made just for display. A disturbing sense of uneasiness settles up in his lower stomach and it doesn’t abandon him during his shameful walk to the highest rink. He can’t help but ask himself how could Jimin love this stupid stuff. How could Jimin, the exactly same Jimin who solely feeds off of reveries and dance, survive in such an unsterile field for developing one’s freedom. Jimin must feel like an eagle trapped inside a golden cage, a pretty blossoming flower relegated to a fancy pot too small for his throbbing roots. It doesn’t matter from which frequency this whole sing-song is coming, it still sounds terribly off key to Yoongi. Jimin-He’s not supposed to live inside this closeted castle. He can be the king of the whole fucking world if he wants to. He could be the king of Yoongi’s fucked up world. He would be allowed to destroy it with his tantrums, he could build it up again and bring it down one second later. No one could rule Yoongi’s distorted world like Jimin would, and Jimin would love, love, love ruining it further and yet further, destroy Yoongi’s weak walls brick after brick. Namjoon’s world, the most perfect world ever created, with its solid bases and its fairy tail-like mazes, would drive Jimin mad sooner or later.Namjoon’s world is heaven, but Jimin is no angel. Namjoon’s soaked in holy water, but Jimin is the devil. It’s Namjoon’s Eunoe versus Jimin’s Styx. They don’t stand a chance together; they would shatter the natural order of things. What’s above would sink and become what’s below, and contrary wise what’s below would raise and turn in what’s above. Yoongi has definitely made up his mind: Jimin’s biggest mistake, the one he can’t walk away from, is Namjoon himself.And Yoongi-Yoongi is going to try. He will try not to express his feelings, but all of his ends are so loose, he’s not sure if he can contain his opinions and keep them to himself tonight. He’s always been too blunt for his own sake, but luckily enough his friends don’t really mind. Jimin never minded. It’s not until he finds his way toward the steam Yoongi hears familiar voices. A deep baritone and a rich tenor. Giggles which have been echoing inside Yoongi’s head during his sleepless nights are now loud and clear, unfiltered by the canals of his memory. They are real, and they are here. Jimin’s voice is still the loveliest sound Yoongi’s ever heard. But it isn’t the only refreshing sound Yoongi distinguishes right away. “Who’s there?”A fluffy thicket of dark wavy hair is the very first thing which catches Yoongi’s attention. Jungkook’s locks are curlier than usual, his soft strands crowning him like one of those ancient greek statues displaying young, strong and handsome men. He’s wearing a striking black and white suit. Yoongi has to admit his whole attire is quite a view. No military bag in sight this time. Satisfaction runs across Yoongi’s spine, and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from smiling at Jungkook’s sudden yelp. “Hyung!” he exclaims, and that’s also the moment Yoongi notices a brown fur ball wiggling in his arms. Yeontan, Taehyung’s personal little mascot, has a diamond collar wrapped around his fuzzy neck, his shiny fur groomed and trimmed at its finest. Yoongi feels the urge to steal him and take him away from Jungkook, but he refrains himself from doing the silly things his mind is suggesting him. And speaking of Taehyung, Yoongi thinks he’s going to combust if he stares at him any longer. Taehyung doesn’t look beautiful, no. He is beautiful. His well-defined jaw is something Yoongi only saw in baroque’s portraits, his posture relaxed and yet intimidating. Taehyung is wearing a flowery neckerchief matching his obnoxious buttoned shirt, hot pink from head to toe.But Jimin. Jimin is the real rose of the garden. Glossy lips, cherry mouth. His mesmerizing eyes hold the color of the deepest blue sink of the seven seas, more profound, more mind-blowing than the trip down the White Rabbit’s hole. To Yoongi falling in those deep ocean eyes once again feels like walking throughout a mysterious path leading to some sort of awakening: Jimin is still Yoongi’s White Rabbit, his all-time favorite bad habit; his most psychedelic acid and his most satisfying sniff of cocaine. Jimin is Yoongi’s worst addiction, but Yoongi is Jimin’s worst mistake. Yoongi can see it in Jimin’s surprised eyes, he’s thinking just the same. Jimin’s changed so much since the last time they’ve seen each other. He looks much thinner than before, his cheekbones more prominent, sharp as daggers and yet silky as petals. His hair are neither orange nor pink, but rather a mix between the two warm colors Yoongi’s always associated with him. Yoongi has never seen him in a pastel suit before, and his shining YSL -whatever those letters stand for- necklace is blinding him, not to mention the gaudy hoops he’s wearing on his ears, long and asymmetrical. Stunning. Jimin is so damn stunning, Yoongi doesn’t know how to handle this sight- His sight . He’s looking at Yoongi with a tall glass of champagne between his smallish fingers and a thick scowl. Sitting in the middle of a white leather divan pressed against the railing, he is catalyzing Yoongi’s stares. The stern is Jimin’s legitimate throne. The avant-garde has always been Jimin’s place. Reckless, but so confident Jimin. He’s waiting for Yoongi’s first move, watchful in spite of his astonishment. Studying, calculating, but quick to react: Jimin’s behavior, that didn’t change, and Yoongi couldn’t have asked for nothing more reassuring than this reborn awareness.“Uhm, hello… I guess?” Yoongi clears his throat as he tries to focalize his attention on Jungkook instead, the only one among the three of them who seems delighted about Yoongi’s abrupt visit. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, I wasn’t expecting to be dropped off here out of all places tonight.”This time around, it’s Taehyung who questions him first: “What are you doing here, hyung?”“I would love to give you an answer, but I don’t really have one,” Yoongi replies. “You could say I was victim of kidnapping.”“Kidnapping…” Taehyung repeats after him, as doubtful as he can be. “Sure thing. Then take a seat and make yourself at home, if you please.”“Now, now, Taetae.” Jimin finally speaks up, and to Yoongi his intervention marks the moment of highest tension. Electric impulses travel up and down Yoongi’s spine, a blown short-circuit inside his mind which sets fire to his revolving thoughts. “Don’t you ask for my permission first? Last time I checked I was still the owner of this old wreck.”“We’ve already left the pier,” Taehyung rebuts. “Unless you want to throw Yoongi-hyung in the waters you’re kind of forced to welcome him aboard.”Jimin laughs, and in a matter of seconds, Yoongi’s shoulders are alleviated from the pressure they were sustaining. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to be just peachy. He doesn’t need to be anyone else expect himself when he’s around them, when he’s with Jungkook and Taehyung. And Jimin. Also Jimin, of course. “He got me confused for a moment there, that’s obvious,” Jimin says, turning around to face Yoongi again. His lips quiver, however he manages to set up a smirk just for him nevertheless. “But it’s okay. Come here, hyung. Take a glass and toast with us.”Jimin’s invitation drags Yoongi forward like a dog attached to a lash. Taehyung flashes him his reassuring boxy smile, meanwhile Jungkook moves away from the couch he was sitting on to make room for Yoongi, taking the empty place next to Taehyung. Yoongi picks up a glass from the tabletop standing in front of the couches and he sits right next to Jimin, allowing him to pour some champagne inside his waiting cup. When Taehyung raises his glass, Yoongi does the same, making sure to keep eye-contact with Jimin. “To Jimin and Namjoon’s wedding.”Taehyung’s soulful voice reverberates around the stern, his wind slowly saturating in the thick black clouds spotting the night sky. “Let’s make tonight a night to remember.”Jimin stares back at Yoongi as he empties his drink at one gulp. “Are those flowers for me?” he asks once he’s done, and Yoongi takes a moment to realize he’s talking directly to him. “These roses?” Yoongi throws a brief glance at them before he hands them over. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, no. Wait- Shit. They are. They are for you. Yeah, I brought you roses. Well, not really, I just- Yeah. They’re yours.”Jimin giggles at Yoongi’s slurring as he takes the bouquet in his hands, drawing it nearer his perfectly straight nose. God, Yoongi really, really wants to touch it, but he’s already fucked up his façade pretty badly, and he surely doesn’t want to make this even more awkward for both of them. He pours himself another glass of champagne. Taehyung’s little thingy, his precious Yeontan, wiggles his way toward Yoongi’s hands, stepping on Jungkook’s thighs. Yoongi concedes him a few pets, since his owner is too busy drinking his night away. Jungkook shoots Taehyung worried looks from time to time, but he doesn’t do anything to stop him. Jungkook’s rounded eyes settle on Yoongi for the time being. Yoongi shakes his head: there’s nothing he can do about Taehyung; he’s an adult man, and if he wants to get wasted, he’s allowed to get wasted. Jungkook got it, but still he doesn’t seem cool with it. Yoongi would’ve helped him, if he weren’t facing a much bigger concern at the moment. Jimin is quiet. Almost too quiet. He’s already drained out his third glass of champagne in a row, his eyes never leaving the roses Yoongi’s given him. When he tilts his chin up, he notices Yoongi’s long stare and he attempts to smile at him in return, except his cheerful expression looks so forced it makes Yoongi cringe. Yoongi will never understand the reason why Jimin makes things so difficult, why he drags unsaid speeches to the point they become louder than his own thoughts. It should be easy.It is supposed to be easy. But Jimin doesn’t like easy. Unfortunately for him, neither does Yoongi. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Jimin’s voice is feeble, a mere sweet whisper to Yoongi’s ears. “I missed you a lot, you know? I was hoping you would’ve accepted Namjoon’s proposal so we could’ve caught up with our lives. You would’ve been the best groomsman.”“I wouldn’t have, no,” Yoongi honestly replies, as he searches Jungkook’s support to undergo this conversation smoothly. However Jungkook isn’t even looking in his direction when Yoongi quietly cries out for his help. His eyes are fixed on Taehyung, attentive and somehow distraught. He’s diligently checking on Taehyung, just like Yoongi asked him to do.Damn. Talking about digging his own grave. “Why didn’t you though?” Yoongi tries again. “Why didn’t you try to reach out for me in these past ten years? Too busy enjoying your rich life along Namjoon? Did you really think I would’ve said yes on the spot for old time’s sake?”There’s a sudden shift inside Jimin’s watery eyes, a harsh surge of discomfort. Yoongi’s already seen this look before, mirroring his own. Jimin is a miserable little thing. Jimin is as guilty as Yoongi is. They don’t have to pretend around each other: they’re aware they’re both head deep in the wrong. Wrong, wrong, so fucking wrong. And broken. So damn broken. “Let’s take this somewhere more private,” Jimin suggests him, pointing at Taehyung and Jungkook seated on the couch next to theirs. “I need to tell you something. Just you and me.”Yoongi swallows down the knot in his throat and he nods, putting Yeontan down as he tries to catch Jungkook and Taehyung’s attention one last time. Neither of them seems to notice him and Jimin leaving. They are so invested in their own conversation that everything else has vanished all around them. Yoongi’s not sure if he wants to know what they’re talking about, what’s going on between the two of them. There are some gaps which Yoongi mind to respect; this is one of them. He follows Jimin in silence all the way down to the below deck. Jimin tells Yoongi to wait for him next to the stained glass, and Yoongi complies. While Jimin is away doing God knows what, Yoongi seizes the river in front of his eyes. The waters are so clear they reflect the sea of stars above his head. Riddled with starlight spots, the stream moves slowly, almost imperceptibly, like a huge stain of viscous petroleum; it’s impossibile not to get trapped in it, it’s impossibile to deviate its view. The city’s outline mirrored in the river looks like a oil painting on canvas, its shapes stretched and widened to the point that the light of the street lamps intermingles with the flickering twinkles of the stars. Yoongi loves this quiet collusion; he finds incredibly entertaining watching Mother Nature fight off the avid hands of humans’ artificiality. “So you’re really here, after all. You’re not an illusion.”Yoongi turns around, pulled by Jimin’s voice like a magnet. Jimin is standing tall behind him, a crooked smile spread on his lips and a fistful of doubts fogging his eyes. Yoongi would love to wipe those eyes clean once for all. “I am not,” Yoongi says. “And neither are you.”“So it appears.”Yoongi looks down at Jimin’s empty hands. “Where did you put the flowers?”“They’re in my room,” Jimin replies. “They’re really pretty. Thank you, hyung. You didn’t have to bring a gift.”“Uhm, don’t mention it.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck nervously, hoping not to expose his lie with his obvious gestures. “So, what’s up? What did you want to tell me?”Jimin sighs as he rests his head against the stained mirror. “I don’t even know where to start.”“Maybe the beginning?” Yoongi suggests him. “You know, you could fill up my blank spaces with the explanations I think I deserve after all these years.”“What’s the point of bringing up the past now?” Jimin rebuts, his thin brows furrowing. “Aren’t you more curious about my current life?”“I can see with my own eyes how’s your current life proceeding, Jimin-ah.” Yoongi tilts his head to Jimin’s majestic hoops and his expensive chiffon suit. “I trust Namjoon showers you with the riches you’ve always longed for.”“He does, yes” Jimin confirms. “And what about it? What do these clothes tell you about me and my life?”Yoongi shrugs. “Nothing,” he harshly replies. “I was just stating facts, I didn’t mean to imply anything at all.”“Why did you refuse to be Namjoon’s groomsman?”Straight for Yoongi’s throat. Yoongi should’ve expected it: Jimin is a merciless predator after all.“You tell me, peachy,” Yoongi says. “Tell me how was I supposed to stand right there, next to you, watching you take the hand of another man and slip away from my hold. Tell me, I’m dying of curiosity.”Time stills, words die on the tip of their tongues. Jimin blinks two, three times, his gaze unfocused and his mouth contracted in a gloomy grimace, but then: “You’re such an egoistic man.”Yoongi shakes his head, not quite convinced about what he just heard. “What did you say?”“You’re so fucking egoistic, hyung!” Jimin repeats, this time louder and clearer. “I can’t believe you right now! Are you seriously- Oh my God, I can’t. I just can’t with you!”“Speak up, Jimin,” Yoongi begs him, frustration riling him up. “I can’t understand you if you don’t-”“I’ve been waiting for you!” Jimin interrupts him, his yell rumbling inside Yoongi’s ears. “Since that day, I did nothing but wait for you! Days, weeks and months passed by, but you never showed up again. What was I supposed to do? I only had Namjoon next to me. He was the only one I could rely on. You just disappeared and- And I never had the chance to thank you properly. I hoped… Yeah, I dreamed about getting together with you after that damn mess was over, but clearly we weren’t on the same page.” He stops for a moment and places both of his hand on his temples, massaging his head leisurely. “You can’t just crawl back to me out of nowhere and tell me those things. I’m getting married, hyung. I’m fucking getting married tomorrow.”“Better now than never,” Yoongi weakly retorts, struggling to catch up with Jimin’s sudden stream of words. It’s like a dam crumbled down before Yoongi and all the contained water just flood out. Secrets which have been so hard to keep are forcing Yoongi to get a good grip on the helm of the damn shipwreck that his state of mind is right now and direct them toward a safe bay. These thoughts need to come out before they sink and get lost forever. This might be Yoongi’s last chance. “I’m sorry, Jimin.” He really is. “I believed… I believed Namjoon was the best open option for you. I couldn’t buy you the stuff you needed for your dancing career. I couldn’t keep up with those expenses. I couldn’t afford Chanel and all those shitty brands you like. I still can’t, and I never will.” He points his chin at Jimin’s necklace. “Look at you now. You are literally glowing. You are meant to shine brighter than any star, Jimin. You’ve always, always been a beaming supernova. Namjoon polished you in a way I could’ve never compared. He turned you, a rough diamond, in the finest jewelry I’ve ever seen. You can’t blame me for my decision. I think I did the right thing, Jimin. You can’t convince me otherwise.”Jimin rolls his eyes. “Fuck you and Chanel, hyung. I wanted Chanel, but I didn’t need it,” he says. “Do you know what I needed, instead? I needed time to rest and get my life together. I needed my stupid worn-out ballet shoes and a makeshift stage. I needed help and confort. I needed love. I needed emotions, feels, not money. I never needed money.”“What the fuck did you say just now, Jimin?” Yoongi steps forward, grabbing Jimin by his collar and forcing him to talk barefacedly. “Money have always been the problem. You said it yourself years ago!”Jimin harshly brushes off Yoongi’s hands from his neck, but he doesn’t deviate his stare. “Yeah, but I grew out of it! I realized it over time,” he insists. “Don’t you remember how was my life like during those years? I had to put the blame on something which wasn’t my own avidity. I was too immature to acknowledge my mistakes. But now I’m aware of it, and I’m begging for your forgiveness. Can’t we just, I don’t know, move on already?”Move on. There’s nothing Yoongi wishes more than moving on, but he can’t, it doesn’t matter how hard he tries.It gets him way down deep. “It is too late now.”Deeper into those pitiful eyes. “It isn’t,” Jimin keeps standing firm. “Hyung, have you got a cigarette?”Yoongi’s mind reacts on his own accord, making him unconsciously shove a hand down his front pocket. “I do have one left,” he replies. “Why?”Jimin’s gaze is unwavering, eyes on his target and ready to shoot. “Offer it to me,” he says. “Offer me your last cigarette. I will give you one more chance to hold me if you give it to me right now.”Yoongi’s fingers wrap up the cigarettes’ thin pack entirely. He pulls it out and stares at it for a solid amount of time. His last cigarette is slightly bended and he’s not sure if it will light up properly. What shall he do? Shall he give it away or keep it just in case?Jimin is getting married tomorrow. He’s his best friend’s groom, for fuck’s sake. Yoongi shouldn’t even have any doubts about what he’s supposed to do. But Jimin’s lips would look so, so pretty around his cigarette. “A pack of twenty?” Jimin tilts his head on one side, his expression stern. “When did you buy it?”“This morning,” Yoongi absentmindedly replies, and he takes note of Jimin’s quizzical look. “Yeah, you could say it’s a lot to take in.”“Why do you smoke so much, hyung?”“Maybe it’s because my mouth feels lonely.”“It wouldn’t, if you pressed it against mine all the time.”Jimin pulls the trigger, and Yoongi’s conscience dies on the spot. Yoongi takes the fucking cigarette out of the pack and he sees Jimin’s smile spreading on his face like a deluge. Jimin takes the cigarettes, he places it between his plump lips and waits for Yoongi to light it up for him, his brows up as if he were mocking Yoongi for his slowness. As soon as Yoongi lights the cigarette and Jimin takes the first drag, the fluttering sparkle inside Yoongi’s chest flares up.Jimin blows on his low flame and he revitalizes it ever-increasingly drag after drag. Cigarette butts fall at his feet, littering the parquet. Jimin takes in the smoke, he reshuffles it in his mouth and then he releases it by making an ‘O’ shape with his lips, smoke rings blurring Yoongi’s stare. Yoongi breathes in Jimin’s second-hand smoke as if it were his own. He fills his lungs with Jimin’s toxic winds, he accepts whatever he’s offering him at the moment without hesitation, even though he knows it is going to kill him later on. He gets closer, but Jimin stands still like a soldier waiting in line in front of the firing squad against him. Jimin’s Adam’s apple bobs each time he inhales, drawing poison in his lungs. The filter shortens between his small index and his middle finger, the lit end getting closer and closer to his thumbs every time he sucks. He exhales, and his shoulders instinctively go down. He looks like he’s having the goddamn best time of his life. Yoongi’s never seen him so relaxed before, and perhaps Jimin is thinking the same about Yoongi himself. Yoongi can’t recall the last occasion they were so comfortable in each other’s presence. It’s rejuvenating. It’s almost like they traveled back in time. Jimin cigarette isn’t even half-done when he throws it on the floor and he extinguishes the lit end by stomping on it. His chin goes up, his droopy eyes tangled in Yoongi’s. He smiles again, but this time around, there’s a glimmer of sincerity glinting into the depths of those irises. Yoongi likes Jimin best when he’s being honest with himself, when he’s honest with the people all around him. “Thank you, hyung,” Jimin mutters. “I really needed that cigarette.”Yoongi really needed it too, but that, he doesn’t say it. “Are you happy now?” he asks him instead. “I want a plain-spoken answer. Tell me, Jimin. Are you happy with Namjoon?”“What’s up with this question?”Jimin shakes his head, but he doesn’t try to escape Yoongi’s steady gaze. “Of course I’m not. You know it. You know it damn well, more than everyone else.”Yoongi doesn’t need to hear anything more. He caresses Jimin’s sharp jaw all the way up his cheekbones. He settles his hands behind Jimin’s excessively heavy ears, pushing him forward by his nape. Jimin doesn’t step back. This is the point of no return for both of them; if they have to do wrong, at least they’re doing it together. If one of them falls, the other will follow him down. And down they go. Jimin ignites Yoongi first. His lips carefully brush against Yoongi’s closed mouth, his kisses light and barely there. They remind Yoongi of their time in the storage room, the rink, their very first rendezvous. Yoongi holds Jimin by his neck as if he were afraid Jimin could slip away from his hands at any given moment. Jimin responds to his need of closeness by pressing their lips together more forcefully, their bodies naturally gravitating toward each other. No physic law could explain the reason why they just can’t stay away from one another. Their primordial instinct breaks through the time-space barrier, it is the driving force of the anti-matter dimensions they’ve fallen into. Their senses, they’re lost somewhere among cosmic dust and some subatomic particles shit. Tiny, fragmented, agitated, just like they are. They kiss like they’re on the verge of a cliff and they’re about to jump off. They’ve already reached the zenith, now they have no choice but look down at what they’ve left at the bottom of the hill. Yoongi should be ashamed of himself for the things he’s done in order to climb up this mountain, but its view is so magnificent, he just can’t bring himself to care least bit about the people he stepped on to get that far. Jimin’s sight is a divine vision. No lesser men should be allowed to be this close to him. Yoongi may be a terrible, egoistic man, but he’s been blessed with all the virtues Jimin is looking for in a man. Namjoon-He simply doesn’t have any of them. In Yoongi’s eyes, he is a lesser man, therefore he doesn’t deserve Jimin. No one does, except himself. “Yoongi,” Jimin sucks his upper lip, dragging his teeth over Yoongi’s cupid bow, his bites sweet and yet vicious. “Yoongi, hyung…” he whispers softly again against his mouth. “The bedroom- My bedroom is upstair.”Yoongi slightly pulls away. “Are we doing it?” he asks, seeking for confirmations. “Are we really doing this?”Jimin doesn’t respond to him. Instead, he lets his hands wander all the way down Yoongi’s spine, seizing his waist. His kisses become more frantic as Yoongi attempts to draw an answer out of him, pushing his tongue past Yoongi’s mouth in order to silence him. It always ends up like this with Jimin: too many questions, so few replies. Yoongi stops questioning him when they’ve already crossed the last boundary. Jimin’s tongue is as sweet as he remembers it, whereas Yoongi’s piercing is rough against his walls. Jimin whimpers as soon as the coldness of Yoongi’s barbell spreads all across his mouth, the piercing clanking against his teeth. Yoongi lets Jimin take him by his hands and harshly interrupt their kisses. Jimin points at the stair outside the below deck, and he leads Yoongi back to the stern. The air is a little colder now. The lanterns are turned off when they reach the aft, the lights too dimmed for Yoongi to make out the silhouettes of Taehyung and Jungkook from there. However, he can clearly hear them. Wet sounds are coming from the couches where him and Jimin have left them. He recognizes Taehyung’s low moans and Jungkook’s hushed breaths. Yeontan is barking loudly at their feet, and Jimin has to put a hand over his mouth in order to keep in his laughters. “Oh God, I hope Jungkook’s still wearing his pants, or else Yeontan is definitely going to bite his ass,” Jimin comments, and Yoongi just can’t believe how easily he’s taking the whole thing. He focuses on the couch where Jungkook and Taehyung were sitting on minutes ago, only to catch a glimpse of Jungkook’s wavy strands being brutally pulled by Taehyung’s fingers and Taehyung moving lazily on top of him. Their overshadowed faces are close, close enough to kiss, but Yoongi can’t truly tell if they’re making out or if they’re just staring at each other.
Oh fuck, no.
He’s just seen tongues dancing against one another. They’re definitely making out, Jungkook is definitely humping his crotch against Taehyung’s smooth leg, and they’re most definitely naked. Yoongi can see the trail of their clothes messily scattered all over the place and Jungkook’s boxer hanging from Yeontan’s mouth. For hell’s sake, Yoongi seriously didn’t see that coming. “To think Taehyung confessed to me only a few days ago,” Yoongi says. “Was he playing a prank on me or…?”“Taehyung? He told me what happened between the two of you some nights ago. What you said to him hurt him like a bitch, but he knows you had to tell him those things to disilluse him, to refrain him from keep daydreaming about a future together.” Jimin shrugs, but his expression is thoughtful. “We fought a lot back in the days because of you. I guess he’s just given up now. He was the one to ask me to bring over some poppers, after all. Maybe Jungkook is just a rebound, but who knows how things are going to turn out?”“I am not sure whether I should ask you what poppers are or just leave it alone and pretend you didn’t say anything about them.”Jimin grins slyly, then he grasps Yoongi’s wrist, taking him away from the stern, away from Taehyung and Jungkook, who are getting louder and louder each passing second. “Let’s not watch them. They’re not in their right mindset.”Yoongi isn’t willing to disobey him nor question his motives. In Yoongi’s crooked view, never a stairway looked so damn tall. Taking just one step is like swimming upstream. Two steps, three more steps and they’re in front of a closed door which Jimin is quick to unlock. Jimin hurriedly pushes the door out of their way, then he shuts it behind their backs. He doesn’t give Yoongi the time to look around and get familiar with the room. He captures Yoongi’s arms, he shoves him toward the kingsize bed and he pins him to the mattress, messing up its silky sheets. Rose petals cascade down the bed and tickle Yoongi’s back. He doesn’t take long to realize they’re crushing the bouquet he gave Jimin under their weights, but honestly Yoongi couldn’t care less about those fucking flowers. They were already dead and going to wither anyway. His body is longing for the insane friction of Jimin’s body rolls against his own, raw and yet unruffled. He taps his fingers on Jimin’s shoulder, silently demanding him to raise his arms up and allow him to get rid of his stupid velvety jacket. Jimin complies, letting Yoongi strip him out those tailored clothes, layer after layer. Yoongi takes his sweet time unbuttoning Jimin’s blouse, drawing his hands and his lips on every single inch of Jimin’s exposed skin, from his spotless clavicles to his darkish nipples. Jimin looks down at Yoongi as he finally takes his blouse off, his eyes firm and glinting, not a single trace of doubt wobbling inside of them. Yoongi can’t help but stare at his toned abs, his mind crossed by a myriad of memories when his gaze inevitably rests on Jimin’s navel. His belly button is still pierced, but his old captive barbell has been replaced by a long-length dandling jewelry pendant which reflects and veers the faint light of the lamp next to the bed. However it’s something else which makes Yoongi’s jaw totally drop. Jimin’s ribcage is inked all across its right side. Wide and angry letters compose a word which not once has left Yoongi’s thoughts since the very first time Jimin pronounced it. Jimin never minded. He’s made it clear from the start, and now he has got it carved on his golden skin. Yoongi still needs someone to name his melancholic songs after, and that someone can’t be anyone but Jimin.Yoongi know it isn’t remotely about him nor about his song. It’s just Jimin. He never cared, he never worried about his image. He doesn’t mind his past, he doesn’t mind the critics he’s received standing by Namjoon’s side for all those years. He doesn’t give a fuck about the shit people tried to put on him. Or at least, that’s what Yoongi thinks. Jimin will probably never explain his tattoo’s meaning to Yoongi, and that’s fine by him. He’s used to not receive clarifications from Jimin anyway. Daring and passionate Jimin. Yoongi loves him so, so fucking much, it’s driving him crazy.How is he supposed to carry on living knowing he belongs to somebody else? Yoongi just can’t accept it. Namjoon isn’t-Wait, Namjoon.Good God, what is he thinking? He can’t just fuck his best friend’s soon-to-be husband behind his back. What kind of amorality would that be? No, he can’t. He just can’t. He fucking can’t. “Jimin-”Jimin interrupts him before he can even speak up by forcing his lips on Yoongi’s, shushing him. “What’s stopping you, hyung?” he asks him between their kisses, merely giving him time to rebut. “Why are you hesitating?”“You’re engaged, peachy.” It’s hard to admit it, but Yoongi endures the stabs he’s giving himself either way. “This shit isn’t right.”Jimin remains quiet for a few seconds, their stares going back and forth between the two of them without actually meaning anything at all. Then Jimin rises his left hand, his fingers covered by various sized rings from his thumb to his pinkie. His annular is bearing the weight of a pure white gold bend. God knows its worth and its carats; Yoongi doesn’t even want to question it. The ring itself is simple, thin and shiny around Jimin’s short finger. Jimin throws one last glance at it, he leisurely pulls it out and out of the blue he mercilessly tosses it at the porthole overlooking the upper deck, lightly cracking its glass. Yoongi almost faints at the sight, downright shocked by Jimin’s furious and abrupt gesture. “What the- Wasn’t that your engagement ring? And wasn’t it, like, kind of high-priced?”“Do you mind?” Jimin hastily asks him. “Do you really mind it, hyung? Do you even care about this wedding? About me?”Not a single sound escapes Yoongi’s mouth when Jimin unceremoniously shoves his hands down his trousers, unfastening his belt and nimbly yanking it at his feet. “I already told you, didn’t I? You can fuck me one more time,” Jimin breathes against his lips, his fingers working up his crotch. “You won the prize. Won’t you take it?” Yoongi doesn’t dare withstanding Jimin as he pulls his own pants down, unveiling his smooth legs. Jimin’s wearing skintight brief which flatters the sharp edges of his v-lines, and yet its high-waisted lace borders make him look softer around his hips. Jimin is both the blade and the hilt. Hot and cold, the excruciating pain and the soothing remedy. Yoongi needs him; he needs him now as he needs him forever. “Does he fuck you like I used to?”Jimin hands come to a stop, hung mid-air. He gapes at Yoongi, who’s barely believing his own nerves right now. Yoongi tries to look away in shame, but as soon as he gazes up at Jimin’s left thigh, he can’t help but notice it is squeezed in a sort of lace garter, his whole attire looking like some bridal shit which he probably was going to show Namjoon once they rejoined later tonight. Fuck, that’s both too hot and too wicked for Yoongi to handle. The situation is getting out of his hand fairly briskly. “He doesn’t, no,” Jimin finally replies. “No one fucks me like you do. Like you used to do.” He resumes peeling Yoongi out of his clothes. Gone are Yoongi’s shirt and his boxers, but before Jimin actually does something about Yoongi’s evident hard on, he suddenly gasps for air. “Hyung, what is it? You didn’t have that thing ten years ago.”“Well, it looks like I’m not the only one in for a surprise tonight,” Yoongi mischievously replies as he kicks off his boxer. Jimin stares down at Yoongi’s cock, his mouth agape. He isn’t the first one to react in such a dramatic way to the curved barbell springing out Yoongi’s pants, but surely he’s the only one who hasn’t been remotely afraid to touch it straight away. “Holy shit, hyung,” Jimin babbles, as his fingers slither up Yoongi’s pierced glans, curiosity taking over desire. “I fucking can’t wait to feel it inside now.”“Then I hope you have lube hidden somewhere, peachy,” Yoongi says, teasing Jimin by playing with his navel while Jimin keeps brushing his fingertips over Yoongi’s raging head. Jimin doesn’t waste any time stretching an arm toward the nightstand and pull out the drawer. He blindly searches for the bottle of lube which Yoongi demanded and he passes it to him as soon as he finds it. Yoongi waits for Jimin to pick up a condom too, but Jimin completely ignores his silent request by climbing back on top of him and placing his pretty mouth on his cock right away. Yoongi chokes as Jimin drags his thick lips over his whole shaft, smearing its head with his shiny gloss. Jimin pokes Yoongi’s barbell with his tongue, pulling and biting Yoongi’s foreskin gently as he keeps stroking Yoongi at a slow pace with his tiny hands. Yoongi could swear he’s never gotten that hard in such a limited amount of time before. Jimin’s tongue on his piercing, scratching against his wet walls, is the most devastating mixture of incalescence and algidity which Yoongi ever felt. Each suck sends chills all across Yoongi’s spine, riling him up. He isn’t going to last long if Jimin keeps up with those antics. He’s burning too quickly to the filter, Jimin is consuming him to the core. “Fuck, Jimin-” Yoongi gasps. “Stop, stop it.” Jimin doesn’t come off his cock, but he looks up either way, his mouth sinfully closed around Yoongi’s tip. “Sit on my face,” he suggests him then. “Let me open you up nicely, yeah? Just for me, peachy. Do it for me.”Jimin whimpers, clearly not too keen on the idea of leaving his job half-done, but he slowly retreats either way. Coldness slaps Yoongi’s cock as soon as Jimin pulls away, but Yoongi can’t bring himself to care when Jimin is suggestively crawling his way to Yoongi’s face in his own good time. Fixed expression, flinty eyes. Yoongi has always had problems figuring out Jimin’s intentions when he looked at him in that way. Malicious, unholy Jimin who tricks men into thinking he’s pure with those angelic irises. “Naughty Jiminie is looking for troubles, uh?” Yoongi toys him as Jimin places himself above Yoongi’s face, his knees sunk into the mattress on both sides of Yoongi’s head. Yoongi unhurriedly gets rid of Jimin thigh brief, letting the lace borders tickle Jimin’s thighs as they slide off. “Come here, let me worship you like you deserve.”“Fuck, hyung-” Jimin heaves, pushing his hips down at Yoongi’s will. “Make it quick, please.”Yeah, there’s no way in hell Yoongi will comply. It’s not like they’re in a rush; they’ve got all evening to themselves, and the darkest hours of the day are always the slowest to pass by. Yoongi is well acquainted with the blessing of nighttime, its eternal seconds and its unmoving landscapes. Yoongi wants to take it slow now, because his life has been too hectic until recently.He pours lube all over his digits, rubbing his fingers together to heat the gel up. He grabs Jimin by his thigh, nails deep into his juicy muscles. Once Jimin’s stable and comfortable above his face, Yoongi lets his hand wander all the way down to his buttocks, spreading and gripping them roughly. This time around Yoongi doesn’t taste Jimin, no. He fucking devours him as soon as pokes his tongue out and he reaches for Jimin’s base. Jimin’s flavor is bittersweet. His cock twitches at every laps, and he fucking quivers when Yoongi drags his tongue piercing across his shaft. “C-Cold,” Jimin complains, and that’s when Yoongi decides it’s time to put a few irons in the fire. Yoongi tugs Jimin’s cheeks, looking for his rim. As soon as his fingers touch Jimin’s puffy hole, Yoongi sucks harder on Jimin’s base, making him squirm into his hold. He massages the tender muscles around his rim until Jimin lets himself get loose enough for Yoongi to insert the first finger. Yoongi struggles to get his phalanx past the first ring of his muscles, as Jimin clenched around his digit as soon as he sucked it in.Yoongi’s about to ask him to relax when Jimin suddenly starts rolling his hip, fucking his mouth deeper and quicker. Yoongi stops bobbing his head and allows Jimin to do all the hard work, limiting himself to keep fingering him and trying to find his sweet spot in the clasping mess which his inner walls are. Yoongi takes quite a long time to syncopate his thrusts to Jimin’s tempo, his finger slipping out of his hole each time Jimin changes the pace. Just about the time Yoongi is three fingers deep into Jimin, he curls his digits in the way Jimin used to adore back in the days. Jimin’s reaction is absolutely wrecking: he suddenly tightens up and stops moving altogether; he tits his head back in pure bliss and lets out the most satisfying groan Yoongi’s ever drawn out of him. Jimin starts fucking himself back on Yoongi’s fingers, his pushes desperate enough for Yoongi to fully get the hint. Yoongi isn’t looking forward suffocating because Jimin’s ass is basically obstructing his passage of air either way.“I-I want to ride the-” Jimin pauses, his moan long and strident. “T-The fuck out of you right now.”“Beg for it,” Yoongi swiftly withdraws his fingers, his cock aching to find its rightful spot inside Jimin already. “You know how.”The glance which Jimin throws at him is full of resentment. Yoongi didn’t forget Jimin hates to be bossed around during sex, but he can’t help his mischievousness. Yoongi’s aware Jimin has been starving for many years after he left; he’s never been hungrier for lust, but Yoongi doesn’t want to feed his urges just yet. Negligence makes pretty lap pets turn into ravenous beasts, and Yoongi loves Jimin like that: when he completely loses it and he succumb to savagery, when he gives in to wildness and he just can’t control his necessities anymore. “Yoongi, please…”Because Yoongi can see it. Jimin may look like a fucking God when he walks down the streets, but once he’s under the sheets with Yoongi, he becomes the most ferocious fiend. “Warm me up,” Jimin breathlessly says, taking Yoongi’s hand into his and placing it onto his chest; his heartbeats are uneven, his puffs short and hot. “Get rid of all this ice.” Yoongi follows the rough edges of his collarbones, hesitating over his hardened nipples, and then even lower, reaching the tip of his cock. “Yours is the only fire able to melt it.”Yoongi knows it. He knows it too well. He knows his passion breathes life into Jimin’s soul, but if Jimin isn’t careful enough while playing with that incandescent blaze, Yoongi is just going to pour fuel on his heart and set it aflame. They’re being reckless. But Yoongi is willing to risk it nevertheless, and so is Jimin. Jimin gets off his face, tracing his way back to Yoongi’s crotch. He steadies himself on the mattress, his legs completely enveloping Yoongi’s waist, his knees pinned around Yoongi’s hips. He reaches for the lube’s bottle behind his back and he pours it all over Yoongi’s length, mixing the gel and Yoongi’s leaked precum with his sweaty palms. The slickness is almost sickening for Yoongi, however he believes nothing is ever going to compare the vertigo he experiences during those few seconds preceding the real thing. Yoongi’s heart drops when Jimin takes a good grip on his shift and he guides it toward his entrance. Jimin bites his lips hard as he sinks deep over Yoongi’s cock, and Yoongi has to refrain himself from moaning too loudly when he finally feels Jimin’s blistering walls accommodating his whole length into a nice, wet embrace. Jimin rests his hands on Yoongi’s chest as he stabilizes himself, struggling to get Yoongi’s piercing past his first round of muscles, and he drags his hips upward, settling the rhythm. Yoongi digs his fingers into Jimin’s hips, helping Jimin follow his pace, and he places the other hand just under Jimin’s inked ribs to propel his thrusts. “Fuck, Yoongi-” Jimin almost mewls, his pushes still quite unsure and trembling. “The piercing-”Yoongi totally gets him. The friction of his barbell against Jimin’s walls is absolutely maddening. It’s intense, it’s slick, it’s scratching, and it’s so fucking tight, Yoongi can barely breathe. Jimin drops his hips lower and yet lower, taking Yoongi in and pulling him out at every movement. Yoongi can do nothing but grunt and pinch Jimin’s soft flesh as he tries to meet Jimin’s bobs by pushing himself harder into Jimin. Jimin wails when Yoongi’s presses his fingertips deeper into his shaking hips, his drags getting faster as he gains confidence in his disarrayed thrusts. Yoongi impatiently draws Jimin’s arms forward, forcing him to rest his whole body against Yoongi’s. Jimin leans into a quick kiss, but Yoongi doesn’t let him go right away. Yoongi licks Jimin’s lips, quietly demanding him to open up his mouth just for him. Jimin gets his message straight and he widens his mouth for Yoongi to enter, entangling their tongues together. It’s a moist melody which they’re orchestrating with their moans, wet smooches filling the silent air. Jimin slides faster as Yoongi leaves his lips and mercilessly attacks his neck. Each bite, each mark is a parting gift. When Jimin will open the boxes, he will found out they’re full of Yoongi’s regrets and cries for attentions. But now it’s way too soon to cede to remorses. Yoongi is too busy trying not to fuck Jimin into oblivion and keep his thoughts sane. Not loosing control during those specific situations has always been Yoongi’s most difficult task. Jimin makes him lose his cool by simply fluttering his eyelashes and shooting him a knowing look. Yoongi’s too weak for Jimin, and Jimin’s too strong for Yoongi. But they counterbalance their weakness and their strength in their unique way, as Jimin depends on Yoongi’s fire to ignite his own desires and Yoongi gladly drinks up Jimin’s overflowing waters to tame the never-ceasing burning sensation in his gullet. Jimin gives and Yoongi takes; Jimin wants and Yoongi provides. They would’ve been the perfect match, if only they weren’t so damn blind. Jimin’s earrings come off as soon as he takes Yoongi’s cock more fervently, bouncing on his hips with such a fast brutal force, Yoongi wonders how the hell he isn’t tiring out yet. Yoongi stretches Jimin’s garter until it tears up between his fingers, leaving him grasping a bunch of expensive lace threads to deal with later on. A quick serie of fucks and yeses escapes Jimin’s reddened lips as he starts rolling his hips onto Yoongi’s, his hands never leaving Yoongi’s broad chest for support. Yoongi spreads Jimin’s cheeks further and rams into him harder, Jimin twisting into his asphyxiating hold, moans full-toned and resonating powerful high notes. Jimin’s expression is unreadable, but Yoongi can clearly see the corner of his droopy eyes getting wet with tears. Yoongi’s not sure why Jimin is suddenly crying on his shoulder, but it doesn’t matter how desperately he tries to bring to a halt what they’re doing right there, Jimin just won’t stop thrusting down into him. Jimin abruptly clenches around Yoongi’s cock as soon as his piercing hits his sweet, soft spot with the perfect angle. Jimin closes his eyes and he pushes his hair back, a thin layer of sweat beading his forehead, as he hastily climbs up his climax. Yoongi instinctively grabs his already leaking cock and milks him out of his sudden orgasm, rubbing Jimin’s shaft against his own stomach. Jimin comes all over his torso with a silent cry, his lips parted in an obscene o-shape, making a sticky mess out of Yoongi’s chest. Jimin is uncontrollably quivering into Yoongi’s hands, his thighs limp and merely moving, his hips buckled and his cock still pulsing, but he insists on riding Yoongi until he also feel heat coiling up his lower stomach. The adrenaline is unbearable, and Yoongi can’t help but seek for Jimin’s warmth, demanding him more closeness than Jimin is supposed to offer him. Jimin sinks his fingers in Yoongi’s scalps, thrusting his pelvis back and forth, and he hauls Yoongi forward, urging him to take a rest on the socket between his neck and his clavicle as Yoongi chases after his release. It’s just a moment, and tension flies off Yoongi’s mind. He comes inside Jimin unannounced, but Jimin accepts him anyway. One second later, Yoongi is gasping for air and his ears are buzzing in pure delight, happy notes unconsciously chirping in the back of his throat. Yoongi turns his head to face Jimin properly as he slowly gets off his crotch, Yoongi’s spent cock slipping out his twitching and oversensitive rim, come spilling down his legs. The tears which fell from his beautiful eyes minutes ago are already dried off, but Jimin is still quietly sobbing in Yoongi’s arms. “Peachy, talk to me,” Yoongi finds himself begging him. “Tell me, did I hurt you somehow?”Jimin nods almost imperceptibly, and Yoongi’s already about to punch himself square in the face for doing that to Jimin. His stunning, imperfectly perfect Jimin. “It’s not-” Jimin sniffs, and Yoongi literally hangs from his vibrating lips. “It’s not psychical. It’s just… Just-”“Just what, Jiminie?”“I cheated on Namjoon.”It didn’t feel real until Jimin spilt it out for both of them. Yoongi sits back on the mattress, staring at the high ceiling wordlessly. He’s unable to form coherent sentences, he has no idea about how to confort Jimin after what they’ve done. And yet he can’t bring himself to feel sorry for him. He can’t feel anything but adoration and blissfulness for Jimin. “Jimin, you’re bad.” Yoongi places a soft kiss on the top of his hair wet with sweat. “You’re so goddamn bad, peachy. But I’m just as bad as you are, fucking my best friend’s soon-to-be husband the day before his wedding. I don’t how we will face Namjoon tomorrow, but we will go through it together, someway. I swear to you.”Jimin feebly shakes his head.“I don’t know, hyung. I really don’t know. This is so messed up… We are so messed up,” he whimpers, then he gently pats Yoongi’s shoulder, clenching his fists and lying next to him. He nudges his nose into Yoongi’s neck, and then: “I don’t want to think about it. I’m craving a Cherry Cola right now. You can find some cans in the mini-bar next your side of the bed.”Yoongi immediately rolls over the mattress and looks for the cola’s cans Jimin is longing for. He picks up two of them, he pops them open, and offers one to Jimin. Jimin smiles gratefully at him as he takes the can and gulps the coke down. Yoongi imitates him, fizzy sugar getting up his nostrils, but he drinks it as if it were his last cheer anywise. They feast on an already broken marriage, after-sex smell invading their lungs and the river’s waves lulling their escapade. Yoongi will not be able to attend the wedding, after all. He wouldn’t be ready to look Namjoon in the eyes and congratulate him sincerely, not after the moon has witnessed the bedlam he caused. He hopes Jimin will understand. But what if-What if Jimin doesn’t show up at the altar as well?What if they turn the tables and get away with it?What if… What if Jimin doesn’t marry Namjoon tomorrow?“Jimin, peachy?”Jimin turns his face toward him, his eyes semi-closed and his expression downright exhausted. “Yeah, hyung?”Yoongi tries not to think about the consequences of the thing he’s about to propose to Jimin, but it’s so damn hard, he’s not sure he will succeed. But then he looks up at Jimin, his penetrating gaze shooting through Yoongi’s fortress. Without Jimin, he won’t feel like writing meaningful songs anymore, because he won’t have the need to try to reach his ears somehow. Without Jimin, he will lose his will to fight. Without Jimin, he won’t have any reason to carry on trying. Without Jimin, Yoongi is nothing but a husk, a faded reflection of an excuse of a man inside a mirror. “Let’s elope.” Yoongi hurriedly detaches the pull-tab from the can, his fingers quivering with anticipation. “Fuck Namjoon, his money and the wedding.” He takes Jimin’s fist into his hands. “Let’s run away and go to fucking Las Vegas or something.” He makes the tab slip down Jimin’s empty annular, its size just fitting for Jimin’s slim finger. “Marry me instead.”Marry me. Yoongi never thought such words would’ve gotten out of his mouth someday, and yet he did it. He asked Jimin to marry him. He asked Jimin, his best friend’s groom, to elope and take his hand in marriage. He fucking did it. He did it, and desperately so.Jimin widens his eyes, clearly shocked by Yoongi’s absurd suggestion. “W-What? Marry you, hyung? Are you… Did you just-” he says, stumbling in his own sentence more than once. “Are you proposing, Yoongi? Are you proposing to me?”“I am,” Yoongi shamelessly replies. “And I want you to say yes. Say yes to a happy ending, Jimin. Say yes to me.”Jimin puts a hand over his mouth, his irises disappearing in the hugest eye-smile Yoongi’s ever seen on his face. He giggles, the sounds he’s making much more cheerful than any wedding bells ring and festive cheers. His cheeks have turned red, his sweaty skin is glowing. With those messy pink hair and a ridiculous can’s tab around his annular, Jimin looks exactly like the vision Yoongi’s seen in his dreams. His champagne dream, his Jimin. “I can’t.”But dreams are supposed to remain so. “I can’t run away from my responsibilities, hyung. Not anymore.” Jimin doesn’t look at Yoongi as he renounces to the seventh heaven, turning down Yoongi’s promise of a beatific, brighter future. “Namjoon… He really cares about me, sugar,” Jimin says. “And I love him too. Maybe not my heart, but my mind does. He’s good to me. He’s the only one who took me in when I needed support. How can I explain this easily to you, mh? Namjoon loves me a lot, more than the distance between the earth and the moon. I can’t disappoint him.”Yoongi lowers his head, silent as the night. Jimin is right. Of course he is. They can’t just stab Namjoon behind his back like that. Not only he’s a good friend to Yoongi, but he’s also a good partner to Jimin. He doesn’t deserve their betrayal; he doesn’t deserve any of the things they’ve done against him tonight. Yoongi descends from his high spirits, and coming back to reality has never hurt him more. “Very well, peachy.” Yoongi clears his throat, trying to sound as convincing as he can be. “I hope he learns how to fuck you right then.”“Trust me, he does quite well in bed,” Jimin comments, nudging him playfully. “He’s bigger than you anyway.”“Ah, I’m definitely aware of it.”Jimin rolls his eyes annoyingly. “Yeah, I know you used to be roommates and all, I’m just saying-”“I sucked the fuck out of your husband’s dick when we lived together. Don’t act all mighty with me, peachy. I know damn well what I’m talking about.”Right there, at Yoongi’s harsh statement, Jimin explodes. “What the fuck, hyung? Heck, I can’t believe you- Did the two of you seriously fool around before I came into the picture?!”“Why are you so shocked, peachy? You don’t make two curious men live under the same roof and hope they won’t try anything out,” Yoongi keeps joking, and Jimin just can’t hold back his laughters. Yoongi swears he could put Jimin’s giggles on replay everyday of his life and he would never get tired of them. Namjoon better be aware of the blessing he’s receiving by making Jimin his. He better be ready to promise him the world and all of its stars. He better watch out his wild behavior, honor him and glorify him for the rest of his life. And Jimin-He wishes him to be happy. Truly, unapologetically happy. The happiest he can be. The greedy hands of the timepiece touch the twelfth’s hour: time’s over. Yoongi failed his attempt to bring Jimin home with him, but at least he made a beautiful moment out of that little while the world conceded him. A moment he will carry with him as long as he needs to, his calming reminiscence. When tomorrow comes, and Jimin won’t be the missing piece of his life anymore, but just a nice memory, Yoongi will be prepared to say goodbye. It’s not the first time they said it to each other either way, and somehow they’ve always managed to find their way back to one another. Tonight has been the evident proof. Yoongi is going to miss Jimin, and he’s sure Jimin is going to miss him, but this is just how things are meant to be. Their mistakes and their glories, Yoongi is going to remember them all. Maybe sometime in the future they will be able to meet again, even share a bottle of rum and talk about their current lives. But until that day comes along, Yoongi has to move forward and do something about his loneliness. And who knows, perhaps their time apart will do him well, and Yoongi will find someone to share his stagnant love with. No one could ever replace Jimin, the feelings he’s made him experience, but Yoongi will try not to remain stuck in the past again. He will try, but-Yoongi sighs, sinking his head into the cushion and allowing Jimin to throw an arm across his chest, pulling him closer. Jimin heard his cry of help, and he attempted to save him, but he did it so in the wrong, in the worst way possible. He did his best, but apparently the best is never enough for desperate cases like theirs. Karma is that one unpredictable force which Yoongi never managed to ward off. Yoongi also tried to play the hero card years ago and help Jimin out, but the upshot has been devastating for them both. They were never meant to be together. They shouldn’t have tried to fight against their destiny.But Yoongi doesn’t regret grabbing Jimin by his collet and hauling him away from the madhouse he was living in. He could never regret giving Jimin the chance to regain possess over his own fate. Jimin is fine now. He’s going to be just fine, even though Yoongi is not.Bearing that acknowledge in mind, Yoongi can finally put his soul to rest and let it perish with grace. Yoongi still conserves the letter which Jimin left for him to read next to his hospital’s bed. He spent almost two weeks in that stupid hospital, but luckily enough Jungkook conceded him his parent’s private room until he fully recovered, so he could rest and enjoy his tiny bite of privacy for the time being. His friends made sure to pass by everyday in turns, following a refrain which Yoongi learned by ear over these weeks: firstly Namjoon, who brought in peaceful talks and nice breakfasts in the morning; then comes Hoseok with his beaming laughters and the hot sunshines of the afternoon; Taehyung fills his evening with his jazzy cds, and last but not least Jungkook arrives late at night, right after his detox treatments. The last day of his stay in Namjoon comes pick him up with his brand new sports car. Yoongi is relieved by the fact he can track the tangerine scent of Namjoon’s car freshener with his broken nose, but he just feels uncomfortable standing next to a well-dressed Namjoon. For fuck’s sake, he’s wearing a tie at eight in the bloody morning. He looks like a loser. A rich loser, but a loser nevertheless. “So… I assume you’re doing quite well in your agency,” Yoongi says, trying to start a casual conversation with him. “Having to wear a suit and all.”“You could say so, yeah,” Namjoon lightly scratches his septum ring, which he tried to conceal by curving it in his nostrils. “So far, so great.”The question is tickling Yoongi’s tongue, how much it’s the pay, but it doesn’t feel right to ask. Yoongi lowers his eyes to the bag in which he stuffed his pajamas and Jimin’s letter. He remembers each single word Jimin has written in it. He dwelled on Jimin’s brief sentences for days, and in the end he got it. Jimin’s letter is a cry for help. Hoseok said Jimin has been getting involved in things bigger than him, and Jungkook talked to him about cocaine, heroine injections, shit which Yoongi only saw in movies, never in real life. And movies might be based on fakery all along, but each lie has a kernel of truth, doesn’t it?“Namjoon-ah, I need to ask you something.”Namjoon throws him a swift look before he nods. “Sure, tell me.”“Has your agency got an advocate or something?” Yoongi goes straight for it, unafraid to the point he almost feels brave for what he intends to do. “Somebody who deals with laws and that sort of stuff?”“An advocate?” Namjoon frowns, clearly confused by Yoongi’s request. “Of course we do, but why are you in need of an advocate, hyung? I thought you weren’t going to charge Jungkook for what happened-”“It’s not about Jungkook,” Yoongi interrupts him. “It’s about Jimin. He is- It’s complicated. I just want to hear a yes or a no from you, Namjoon. Do you know a good advocate?”Namjoon stays quiet for a little while, and then: “His name is Kim Seokjin. He specialized in marketing law, but he’s an advocate in all respect. Do you wish to see him?”“I do, Namjoon.” Yoongi doesn’t hesitate least bit. “I need to meet him.”“Then I can call him and settle an appointment for you.”“No, don’t telephone him,” Yoongi decides on the spot. “We’re going to meet him right now. I need to talk to an advocate as soon as possible, and if this Seokjin of yours is available, he might help me out starting today. I’ve got no time to waste.”“You want me to bring you to Seokjin-ssi now?” Namjoon mutters. “But he may be busy.”“Who fucking cares if he’s busy, when there’s a life on the line out there?”“Wait a moment, hyung. What are you talking about? This is about your friend Jimin, right? Isn’t he a pusher? What are you going to do?”“Sue him.”At Yoongi’s sudden statement, Namjoon opens his eyes wide. “Are you reporting your own friend? Good God, remind me to never mess with you, hyung.”“It’s for his own fucking sake,” Yoongi harshly replies. “I need to sue him, Namjoon, or else he might- He might end up jailed, killed or something. I don’t know. I just want him to quit.”“Hyung, you’re not sure whether he’s just getting fined or if he’s getting sentenced anyway if you sue him.”“I need to try,” Yoongi insists. “Please, Namjoon-ah. I really need to try.”Namjoon bites his lower lips hard as he hits the accelerator pedal, and he makes a U-turn for his agency’s building without asking for further explanations. They don’t take long to reach the structure, and as soon as they’re in front of the automatic door, Yoongi gulps down the knot which his anxiety tied with his vocal cords inside his throat. This is it. He’s about to sue Jimin for drug’s trading. Fuck, he feels awful, but he has no other options. Seokjin’s office is on the top floor, last room on the right. Seokjin is about to wrap up a meeting in the conference room downstairs when Yoongi and Namjoon demand to see him, but his secretary allows them to wait for him in his office regardlessly. If walls could talk, they would have a lot to say about Seokjin’s personality. For the first time in his poorly managed life, Yoongi sees hot pink single seater couches in front of a glass desk covered in flamingos’ decorations from one edge of the table to the other. The wallpapers display cute flowers painted with soft palettes, shelves full of action figures of various games’ protagonists. Seokjin’s pc looks like one of those ultra-powerful computers lastly launched on the market, but there aren’t any books around the room, exception made for a huge English dictionary laying on the lowest section of the empty library. Yoongi wonders if this Kim Seokjin for whom Namjoon sang his praises just a few minutes ago is actually an advocate or just a nerd with a degree. When Kim Seokjin finally makes his entrance around ten minutes later, Yoongi’s jaw drops to the marbled floor. Seokjin might be a closeted nerd, but he’s surely the most good-looking closeted nerd Yoongi has ever seen. He’s wearing a white buttoned shirt which seems to fit tight on his ridiculously wide shoulders. His quiff is so neatly styled and so pompous, Yoongi is almost jealous of him. He would look hideous with his hair up, but Seokjin makes it so easily pleasant to the eye, Yoongi might take his hairstyle in consideration next time he goes to the saloon. “Good morning, gentlemen,” are Seokjin’s first words, as he pushes his squared glasses up his straight nose with such elegance, Yoongi just can’t believe he’s real. He must be a fucking actor or something, there’s no way a simple advocate would look this good in real life. Shit like that one only happens in dramas. “Do you mind a cup of tea?”Namjoon smiles brightly at him, whereas Yoongi is too busy trying not to droll over Seokjin’s flamingo plushies. “Good morning, Seokjin-ssi. I’m sorry about our abrupt visit, but my friend here needs your help,” Namjoon says, slightly shoving Yoongi forward. “And no, I don’t mind a cup of tea. Thank you very much.”Seokjin nods and reaches for the cupboard next to his desk, pulling out a porcelain teapot and three cups. Everything is so pink, Yoongi’s about to have a seizure. Seokjin heats up the teapot in the small microwave behind his countertop and fills their cups right away. It takes just one sip of that delicious tea for Yoongi to feel better already and a lot calmer too. Seokjin clearly knows his shit and he’s making sure Yoongi is comfortable enough before he starts questioning him. Yoongi kinda likes him. “So, Namjoon’s friend,” Seokjin speaks up, sipping his tea with his brows raised high and his expression curious. “What’s your name?”“Yoongi,” he replies. “Min Yoongi.”“What’s the matter, Yoongi-ah? Have you sprayed varnish all over the police station like your friend did some years ago?” Namjoon literally spills his boiling tea over his trousers, choking on his own saliva. “You didn’t have to tell him, hyung!” he yells, as Seokjin laughs at him and his wet pants.
Hyung, uh?
They must be close after all. “I didn’t know my ex roommate used to be a graffiti artist. Thank you so much for providing me with such a precious information, Seokjin-ssi,” Yoongi plays along. “You can drop those formalities with me, Yoongi-ah. Just call me hyung. We’re all friends here, see?” Yoongi mentally thanks Namjoon for introducing him to the most soft-spoken advocate of the city. He feels like he could split his guts out in front of this Seokjin guy and still be welcomed by him. It’s great. Seokjin seems great. “I’m not the one who has a problem, hyung,” Yoongi starts again. “A close friend of mine, he- Uhm… He’s kind of- He’s involved in some illegal shit- Oh no, I’m sorry. I meant to say he’s involved in some illegal actions and I… I want to help him.”“Illegal shit?” Seokjin props his elbows on the desk, getting closer to Yoongi’s eye-level. “What kind of illegal shit?”Yoongi lets it slip out of his tongue: “Drug trafficking.”Seokjin remains quiet for a little while, his stare turning serious, then he slowly shakes his head and pulls away from the desk, resting his head against the armchair on which he’s sitting on. “Well, I hope he isn’t a drug lord or something, or else I don’t think there’s much you can do to help him out.”“No, he isn’t the one who controls the traffic,” Yoongi quickly snaps. “He’s just a pusher. He sells drugs, but he doesn’t possesses them.”Seokjin’s gaze brightens up, and Yoongi hopes it is a good sign. “A pusher, you said? So he is not a trafficker?”“I really don’t think so,” Yoongi says. “He’s only twenty-one, he can’t be that big in the criminal scene just yet.”“Has he got some previous criminal records which you’re aware of?”“No way in hell,” Yoongi securely answers. “He’s attending a strict Academy. He wouldn’t have been accepted if he held criminal records.”“If he’s totally clean like you’re assuming, then he could get away with it quite easily by paying a fine,” Seokjin tells him fair and square, and Yoongi’s just amazed by the fact he didn’t even have to look up at his law’s books -if he owns any at all- to come up with a solution. “No jail?” Yoongi questions him just to be sure. “No jail,” Seokjin confirms. “But the fine is going to be a heavy blow. For drugs’ trafficking it’s up to five billions won, depending on which drugs he’s been selling and for how many years.”Five billions-What?“Shit, he definitely hasn’t got that much in his pockets at the moment.” Yoongi claws his own hair in despair. “And neither do I.” He was so damn close. So, so close. “Maybe we could launch a formal investigation if we find a track to follow,” Namjoon sneaks in, patting his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders in lieu of confort. “What can we do, Seokjin-hyung?”Seokjin places a hand under his chin and mumbles to himself for a while. “A path… If we find a path to follow we could…” He suddenly gasps, and both Namjoon and Yoongi gasps after him. “Testimonies!” he yelps. “We need witnesses!”“What kind of testimonies?” Yoongi asks, quite confused. “Testimonies always hold the key to solve the cases. Have you ever watched a thriller movie before, Yoongi-ah?”“I did…? But what does that have to do with Jimin’s case?”“Wait a minute.” Seokjin widens his eyes and strides toward Yoongi, getting way too close to Yoongi’s personal space. “Jimin? Did you just say Jimin’s case?”“Yeah?” Yoongi blinks, not sure about what’s going on with Seokjin out of the blue. “He’s the pusher I was talking about.”“Jimin? Park Jimin, to be exact?”“That’s him,” Namjoon answers in Yoongi’s place, and that’s the moment Seokjin totally loses it. He throws his hands in the air as if he just found out the Korean national football team has won the Championship, his glasses falling off his nose in the process. He cheers so loudly Yoongi could swear all the windows of the building trembled at his scream, his voice high pitched and resonating. “Park Jimin! Finally someone who knows him!” Seokjin keeps yelling as he crunches down the desk and pulls out a drawer. “We’ve had his eyes on him since last year, that little rascal.”Seokjin drops a binder in front of Yoongi and Namjoon’s eyes, his gaze so joyful, Yoongi almost feels bad for not having consulted him from the start and told him all he knows about Jimin. Seokjin scrolls through the pages until he finds a picture which he’s quick to show Yoongi. “You’re talking about this Park Jimin, right?”In the black and white picture which Seokjin is showing him, Jimin has got dark hair and his expression looks a little deader than the one Yoongi is used to see on his beautiful face, but there’s no doubt it’s him. Yoongi nods. “He’s my Park Jimin,” he confirms. “Do you already know him?”“If I know him?” Seokjin clicks his tongue. “He’s been fucking around my business for months now! Months, I’m telling you! He’s as sly as a fox. It doesn’t matter how many times I tried to help him out, he just kept slipping away from my sight. I know him damn well, Yoongi-ah. He tried to sell me weed when I met him in a pub downtown last year, and since that day I’ve been fixed on the idea of getting him out of the troubles in which he got into. He’s too young and talented to be involved in such a dreadful environment, don’t you think?”Yoongi just can’t believe Seokjin’s story. Jimin is everywhere and nowhere to be found at the same time. How comes everyone knows him and yet no one called him out on his bad behavior? God, Jimin is a menace. “Listen, Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin looks at him closely, his gaze firm, but still sparkly. “I need to ask you a favor in order to find the witnesses we have to contact for lowering Jimin’s fine, okay?”Yoongi is ready to take notes. “Tell me what I have to do.”“By any chances, do you know a place called Omelas Boys?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Who the fuck is Seokjin, and how the hell does he know about all that stuff?“I do,” Yoongi says, biting his tongue to keep in his doubtful thoughts. “I do know that fucking place. A friend of mine works there.”“Great! Do you think you can bring this friend of yours to me?”“No, not really,” Yoongi honestly replies. “I don’t want anything to do with my friend’s job.”“Then can you please find someone else?” Seokjin insists. “We need those testimonies, Yoongi-ah.”Yoongi sighs, already regretting his decision. “I can come up with something, yeah,” he tells him.He does have someone else to turn to, after all. “That’s amazing, Yoongi-ah.” Seokjin’s smile is so bright, it almost blinds Yoongi. He would get along with Hoseok just fine, if they ever were to meet. “Then I’m going to wait for you,” Seokjin resumes. “Bring over those witnesses by tomorrow morning and I will help you out with Jimin’s case, okay? Do we have a deal?”Yoongi throws a glance at Namjoon, who just shrugs. “I will,” he promises at the end. “I will bring you those witnesses. We have a deal, hyung.”Seokjin does a thumbs-up at him and Yoongi just rolls his eyes. Jimin is the biggest problem Yoongi has ever faced. Truth to be told, Yoongi would’ve have gotten that far for anyone else. Jimin-He needs to be patient only for a little longer. Just a few more hours, and Jimin will be free.The hands of the clock starts moving. “We are going to strike at dusk, once the shops around the area are closed up and there’s no one around.”Yoongi follows him with his eyes, struggling to catch up with his quick steps. “We need to be quiet, fast, and- Ah! Hyung, look! There’s a cat! Come here, kitty!”Yoongi slaps himself in the forehead, trying his best not to smack some sense in him there and now.“Oh, no… The cat went away.” He pouts, and the urge to kick his ass is growing stronger among Yoongi’s impetuous thoughts. “What were we doing, hyung? I got distracted.”“We’re going to the Omelas Boys, kid.”“Right! I’m sorry, hyung. It’s the crystal meth-thing they’re giving me during therapy. They make my brain all fuzzy and it’s difficult for me to focus on my tasks. But I don’t want to get in your way, so feel free to punch me in case I’m annoying you!”“I’m not punching you, just make sure to tell that guy the things we practiced before, okay?”“Roger that!”God, give him the straight to resist until the very end, or else he’s going to riot. Yoongi still can’t believe he’s playing secret agent with Jungkook. He needed Jungkook’s support -and mostly his connections- to get throughout this night smoothly, but it seems like he made a terrible miscalculation: Jungkook’s mind isn’t stable enough for such delicate exploits like this one just yet. Jungkook suddenly freezes while walking, he loses the perception of the space around him way too often and he doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go most of the time. At least, they’re not alone tonight. Taehyung is waiting for them in front of the open gates of the fraud pub in which Yoongi is going to meet the witnesses Seokjin demanded him for. Men and women alike come and go like an unstopping river past Taehyung’s back, but whereas Yoongi is afraid there are too many people for him and Jungkook to fly under the radar, he doesn’t seem to care at all about them. “You guys have to be quick,” Taehyung says first thing first. “They already have a few bookings for tonight, and you only have fifteen minutes each or so.”“How the heck are we supposed to convince them to come with us in fucking fifteen minutes?” Yoongi complains, but Taehyung won’t listen to his reason. “Persuasion is a refined art, hyung. If you don’t have it, you won’t get far in your life.”“You only want to make this harder for me, don’t you?”Taehyung doesn’t respond to him. He just raises his shoulders and winks at Jungkook before he opens the door leading to the pub. Yoongi can’t help feeling restless as they walk by the kiss bang’s rooms. Some doors are slightly cracked open to allow the visitors to peek in, sickening wet sounds and moans slipping through the fissures. Drunken men and petty women are lined up in the hallway, waiting for their turns. What makes Yoongi’s stomach turn, however, are the pictures of the prostitutes which work there hung all over the corridor’s walls like fucking posters, displaying their prices and the services they offer. Among all those young and pretty faces, Yoongi finds him. Haechan is waiting for him behind the door Taehyung has lead him to. This is just the first step. Jungkook is going to meet Mark, instead. Yoongi hopes his stolen police’s badge is going to be persuasive enough to convince them to play according their rules. Fuck, he’s so nervous. Taehyung gently knocks on the door and shuffling sounds come from behind it. “Haechan-ah? Your first client is here.”Nothing would have prepared Yoongi for the sight which he was going to withstand straight after. When Haechan opens the door, a strong smell of clean cotton mixed up with other body fluids such as cum and sweat invades his nostrils. If Yoongi doesn’t puke right there, that’s just because he doesn’t want to make things more awkward than they already are. Haechan is wearing a see-through shirt which barely covers up his nipples and jeans so tight they surely can’t be comfortable. His makeup is light on his lips, but his eyes are smoky and dark. Not a single spot of beard on his rounded chin. Haechan recognizes Yoongi soonish enough, smiling widely at Yoongi as he welcomes him inside his room. Jungkook waves Yoongi goodbye, and Taehyung shots him a withering gaze, almost if he’s trying to warn him about something. It’s Taehyung’s touch-him-and-I-will-cut-off-your-dick kind of glare. Yoongi would’ve reassured him, telling him he had no intention of making out with his dongsaeng anyway, but Haechan doesn’t let him.He quickly closes the door behind their back and gestures at Yoongi to reach the couch before him. Yoongi complies, trying to get as cosy as he can on that old couch, but the thought of being seated on another man’s pool of come definitely doesn’t leave his mind, not even just for a second. The whole situation is beyond revolting to him, but he’s got reasons to be here tonight; very rightful ones. “Well, look who’s back in the neighbor,” Haechan says, striding confidently toward Yoongi and sitting right in front of him. “Didn’t you say you were never coming back again, Yoongi-hyung?”“What can I say,” Yoongi answers back. “Karma is a bitch.”Haechan hides his giggles behind his hand, but he doesn’t waste any time getting closer and closer to Yoongi, stepping right into his confort zone. “What brought you here, hyung?” he asks, laying a soft hand on his arm and traveling all the way up to his shoulder with his fingertips. “Are you in need of a few goodnight kisses to sleep better at night?”“No, that’s definitely not it.” Yoongi gently picks up Haechan’s hand and makes him withdraw. “I need to talk to you.”Haechan raises his left brow. “Talk to me? About what?”“Your age, for example,” Yoongi responds to him right away. “How old are you, Haechan?”Yoongi can see Haechan is tensing up, his nerves almost visible on his palish skin. “Why are you asking me such a question, hyung?”“Are you even legal, Haechan?” Yoongi carries on insisting. “If Haechan is your actual name, that’s it.”Haechan jumps off the couch as if it caught fire and stares down at Yoongi with fuming ears. “What the hell do you want from me, you bastard?!”Yoongi tilts his head on a side, not quite impressed by Haechan’s exaggerate reaction. “I want you to help me,” he says, straight to the point. “You surely remember Jimin, yeah?”Haechan brattily crosses his arms to his chest. “I don’t know any Jimin.”“Of course you do, Haechan-yah,” Yoongi says. “You do know Jimin.”“And what about it?”“You need to testimony for him. You see, there’s an open case which none of you Omelas guys are aware of going on here. Me and my friend, we can help you if you’re willing to testify some stuff for us. So, what do you say, Haechan? Care to help an old friend out?”“We’re not friends,” Haechan hastily replies. “Fine by me. We don’t need to be friends, but we have to become partners.” Yoongi offers him his hand. “Trust me and nothing will happen to you. The Omelas Boys, your realm, is going to fall apart really soon, but you’re still in time to save your young ass.”Haechan’s stern expression starts to crumble, and Yoongi catch a glimpse of an afraid child past those scared eyes.He has got him.“How?”“Trust me, Haechan. You and your other friend, Mark, just need to trust me. But we have to be quick.”“What do we have to do, hyung?”“Come with me,” Yoongi tells him. “Tomorrow morning I will come pick you up and then we will figure things out along the way. I swear nothing bad will happen to you.”Nor Jimin. “How can I trust you, hyung? I don’t even know you,” Haechan weakly resists. “But you do know Taehyung, don’t you?” Yoongi tries again. “You trust him, yeah?”“We don’t work in the same section, but yeah.” Haechan nods fervently. “I do trust him.”“Then he will come along tomorrow,” Yoongi promises him. “Just be prepared, alright? And please, wear something… less reveling.”Haechan looks down at his attire, then he sobs. “I fucking hate those dresses, hyung. I wished I could get rid of them, but I can’t.”“Why not?” Yoongi frowns. “What’s keeping you here, kid? Money? Adventures?”“Bribery.”Shock runs through Yoongi’s spine. Out of all the possible answers Haechan could’ve given to him right now, bribery wasn’t among them. “What do you mean, Haechan?”“Our boss, he- He offers money left and right to whoever seeks for his help and then he blackmails us with footages of the jobs he gives us and such,” Haechan reveals to him. “Jimin-hyung too… He tried to get away as soon as he found out about those tapes, but he couldn’t do much. It was already too late. We all realized it too late.”“Holy shit,” Yoongi hisses between his teeth. “Then the case we’re working on is much bigger than we thought.”“It could be a city’s scandal, hyung.”A city’s scandal. It could be a city’s scandal and Jimin is the main star of it.
Fuck, fuck, fucking hell.
There’s really no time left, then. “Haechan, I have to go now. Tomorrow… Tomorrow make sure you and Mark are here by ten in the morning. Understood?”Haechan nods, and Yoongi pats his head once before he stands up from the couch and storms out of his room. The hands of the clock starts turning faster and yet faster. It’s a battle against time, and Yoongi’s losing it. Yoongi just got out of the kiss bang when the display of his phone lights up and he sees an incoming call. It’s Namjoon. Yoongi picks up. “Namjoon-ah?”“Hyung?”Oh.That’s not Namjoon’s voice. “Hyung, come to my house as soon as you can.”That voice is-“Jimin? Jiminie, are you with Namjoon?”“Yeah, but let me explain it to you later. Can you come now? Please?”Yoongi looks back at the kiss bang in which Taehyung and Jungkook are still stuck in, but then he makes a run for the motorbike he left in the parking lot. “I’m coming, peachy.”Jimin hangs up right after Yoongi’s last words. Yoongi jumps on the his motorbike’s seat and starts the engine. He hopes he won’t be too late this time.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Life is a drag on a cigarette.
To Yoongi, living feels like taking a long drag off a cigarette.
So short, and yet so intense.
Surely sickening, but just impossible to get sick of it.
Elusive like smoke; Yoongi can see it happening right before his eyes, but it doesn’t matter how hard he tries, he can’t catch its essence with his bare hands. He can only breathe it in, let it flow throughout his lungs and fill him up with its different flavors. Sometimes it is acrid, sometimes it is minty, but when all is said and done, it always tastes like a tiny piece of heaven to him, like something made out of distant dreams and happy memories. A fleeting instant of blissful quietness, a mellifluous, ineffable lyric.
Living is a ephemeral slow burn.
Yoongi’s life started when Love decided to ignite his tip and Hate proceeded combusting each one of the feelings contained in his filter until it reached the end.
Min Yoongi is no longer a man, but a pile of ashes messily scattered on the sideway. He’s dispersed in the air which people inhale, he is strewn on the roads which people carelessly step on, he is within the eternal fire and the passing dust, shapeless and sooty.
Each drag nourishes his addiction. Addiction is slavery, and slavery inevitably leads to a harsh death.
But Yoongi, he is not going to die a chained bondsman.
When he is on his motorbike, sprinting down the busiest streets of the city, challenging the moody winds and the red neon lights of the bombinating traffic, Yoongi feels like he is on the top of the world. He is young, he is wild, and he is free. In this land of angels and devils, he is the king and this city is his domain.
With shortness of breath, he could talk about every hidden beauty of the world for hours, its peaks and valleys, the bass and the treble.
Richness is in the eye of the beholder.
Yoongi does not believe in solipsism, but he does think he is the only one who can truly see Jimin’s irresistible lure.
Jimin still attracts him like a magnet, he forces Yoongi to focus on him with his illicit behaviors and traps him in his never-ending flux of catastrophes, infiltrating sneakily between the folds of these magnificent disasters and turning perfectly fine situations into tragedies.
Jimin is fathomless, his thoughts too deep to be understood, his motives quite enigmatic and too ambiguous for Yoongi to justify them on the spot. But still Yoongi somehow recognizes their sense, their unsaid motives.
But despite Yoongi’s apprehension, Jimin has to spill his problems in the open tonight.
He has to, if he wants Yoongi to help him sorting things out and haul him away from the mess he had caused in the span of these past few months.
There is no time left, no other options, and absolutely no room for doubts.
Yoongi kicks the gear shifter up and accelerates, leather gloves rubbing against the handlebars roughly. The speedometer hits sixty mph, but Yoongi keeps driving faster and yet faster, urban sceneries changing swiftly all around him. He quickly gets over the traffic by slaloming between stuck cars and slipping past the lines, whereas in his surrounding it’s chaotic lightings and loud horn sounds.
Yoongi can’t really tell if the turmoil is inside or outside his head; the only thing he is sure of is that Jimin is waiting for him at home with Namjoon. It is pointless to wonder where they have met, how they have come together, or why did Jimin call him above all. He can just try to reach out for them as soon as possible and hope to not get arrested for exceeding speed limits in the process.
Jimin’s condo is an isolated complex of falling-apart buildings located in one of the most impoverished areas of the city, right about the outskirts. Yoongi still remembers how it feels to live in an unsafe neighborhood, how distressing it is to walk alone at night and having to be ready to run at any given moment just in case he was being followed around and he was carrying money on him. If he didn’t turn paranoid over time it’s just because he never had anything big to lose in the first place.
Jimin is not supposed to live in such difficult conditions.
No one is, to be fair.
Yoongi kills the engine and jumps off the seat. He looks up at Jimin’s balcony, where his kitchen is. The lights are switched on, meaning there’s surely someone waiting for him up there. By the black silhouettes dancing behind the curtains, Yoongi can tell there are more than two people roaming inside the room beside Jimin and Namjoon. Two people of whom Jimin didn’t talk about earlier on the phone.
Nothing new, nothing to be surprised of.
The untold way has always been Jimin’s way. Yoongi can just deal with it and try to catch by ear Jimin’s inaudible distress signals, but aside that, he is completely impotent when it comes to understanding him.
Maybe even Jimin doesn’t fully understand himself sometimes.
Yoongi stops for a second and asks himself what he should expect from this encounter. Answers? Yoongi has already given up the idea of receiving them. More questions, maybe. Definitely more interrogatives and a fuckton of poorly managed excuses. Apparently that’s what Jimin is best at, and Jimin’s best is just not enough to quench Yoongi’s thirst for responses.
Yoongi still needs to find a solid base on which he can safely build up his trust toward Jimin, but if Jimin isn’t willing to provide him with these foundations, then there is really little Yoongi can do.
He can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.
Jimin is no damsel in distress and Yoongi is no hero, but at least he is willing to try; try to make things better for Jimin, to make things better for himself. Try to fix this unfixable situation and save what can’t be saved anymore.
Yoongi unpacks his filters and rolls himself a cigarette before he rings Jimin’s bell. He places the cigarette between his chapped lips as he waits for Jimin to open the damn door for him.
He doesn’t get the time to light the tip up, however.
The first time Yoongi saw Jimin, his hair, his dazzling scent and his glowy face reminded him of a ripe peach. He looked so fresh and mature, daring and unconventional, just like Yoongi wanted him. It was attraction at first sight, a fatal strike for Yoongi, as well as his doomsday.
But tonight-
Tonight Jimin looks like he has just finished absorbing all the gloominess of the world, like he has been bathing in rivers full of negativeness and apathy for as long as they have been apart. There are no traces left of his pinkish hair, but a black, dried mop on the top of his head. His face is livid, his once gold-kissed skin now pale to the point Yoongi can’t help but wonder if he is suffering from some major disease and he is about to kick the bucket right before Yoongi’s gaze. And these majestic eye-bags, Yoongi can already tell they are the nefarious product of uncountable sleepless nights and futile tosses and turns underneath the sheets.
It would be an euphemism to say Jimin looks absolutely wrecked.
The Jimin who Yoongi is observing right now is exactly the same Jimin he saw in Seokjin’s portfolio this afternoon: drenched in grief, inexplicably sad and plain inconsolable.
Jimin might have crawled his way to hell and back during these past weeks and Yoongi wouldn’t have known it. They are just so unfair, Jimin’s antics; treating Yoongi like they have never met each other before. They are terrible, terrible friends. Or acquaintances, or even fuckbuddies- wherever their relationship stands at this point, really. Yoongi doesn’t dwell on labels, and Jimin isn’t some kind of product which he has to put an etiquette on.
Jimin is priceless, worthier than any artificial good that Yoongi could think of.
They have never exchanged their phone numbers, Yoongi never felt the urge to visit Jimin again after their fight -that stupid fight they had right there, on that doorstep some months ago- and Jimin certainly wasn’t informed about Yoongi moving out the flat he was sharing with Namjoon as soon as he graduated.
Or at least he wasn’t before he met Namjoon God knows where.
Regardless it all, it is inside Jimin’s eyes that Yoongi catches the glimpse of something worth keeping faith for.
Jimin’s eyes, they are still so full of water.
So full of life.
Jimin hasn’t loosed that flickery glimmer of determination firing in the depths of his oceanic gaze, and to Yoongi’s eyes, he has never looked more beautiful.
“Hyung.”
It is just a word, an appellation which Jimin already said and repeated a thousand times in his presence, but it makes resonate something inside Yoongi’s chest nevertheless, something which boosts his motivation to move ahead and get to the bottom of all of this.
“Jimin,” he replies, waving his hand gently to acknowledge Jimin’s weak greeting. “I’m here.”
“You are,” Jimin confirms, his gaze slowly traveling up and down Yoongi’s slim figure, as if he weren’t believing his own sight. “Finally.”
“I’m sorry I was late,” Yoongi mutters. “The traffic was a state.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jimin shakes his head and moves away from the door to let Yoongi in. “The only important thing is that you are here right now.”
Yeah, Yoongi would have loved to say, and clearly I’m not the only one.
Sitting on Jimin’s couch, legs wide apart and a concerned frown crooking his serious expression, it’s Namjoon in all his glory, a huge watch which Yoongi has never seen on him before adorning his thick wrist and his stupid wine red tie around his neck. Next to him, Hoseok is vividly chatting with another man, somebody who Yoongi doesn’t-
No, that definitely isn’t correct.
He does know Seokjin, and quite well too by now.
The advocate is unanimously keeping up with Hoseok’s incessant stream of words, nodding at Hoseok’s statements and butting in his discourse every now and then. Why is Seokjin here tonight and what is Jimin planning to do with him, about all of that Yoongi has no fucking idea.
Well, actually Yoongi has no fucking idea about what’s going on all together today, starting from the unknown reason why he sprinted his way to Jimin’s flat in the first place.
“Uhm, hello everyone,” he speaks up, catalyzing his friends’ attention in a matter of seconds. “Is the party here?”
No one seems to have caught the hint of irony within Yoongi’s voice tone, as they hastily overwhelm him with their yells. “Hyung! We were waiting for you!” and “Where the fuck have you been? We were suspecting you already ran away with the loot and left us swimming in deep shit here!”
And God, does Yoongi wish to run away right now.
He probably would’ve done it, if only he weren’t so damn curious to discover the rules of Jimin’s little wicked game. Yoongi is aware of the endangerment of the results, he knows he may go farther and fare worse, but he can’t control nor tame it, his wild spirit of inquiry.
Jimin softly taps Yoongi’s shoulder and points his chin at the couch, silently telling Yoongi to accommodate himself there. Yoongi takes the chair next to Namjoon and watches him pulling a lighter out of his pocket straight away. He gestures at Yoongi to come closer and finally, fucking finally he lights up his cigarette.
As soon as Yoongi takes the first drag, his nerves go lax and he is able to think straight again. All around him, Seokjin and Hoseok stopped chatting between themselves, Namjoon lit his filter, and Jimin is igniting his own by brushing its tip against Namjoon’s bud and sucking in the first drag.
Their faces are too close for Yoongi’s comfort, merely a few inches apart from one another. Yoongi has already seen this scene not long ago, and if he didn’t like it when Jungkook was in the picture, neither he likes how it looks with Namjoon in the center.
When did Jimin and Namjoon become best buddies? What the hell happened between the two of them while Yoongi wasn’t around? Last time Yoongi checked, they barely acknowledged each other’s existences.
It is weird.
This is so weird.
But this is also one of those circumstances which Jimin created himself, so it is no wonder Yoongi smells something fishy going on there.
“Hyung, it’s time to pour some fuel on the flame,” Hoseok speaks up first, distracting Yoongi from his confusing thoughts with his high tune. He indicates the coffee table standing between their chairs, and Yoongi tacitly follows his indication. “Do you see that thing over there?”
Right in front of Yoongi’s eyes, on the tabletop before the couch, there’s a black lumpy bag and several closed envelopes. Yoongi doesn’t get to analyze them closely, as Seokjin strides across the room and places a hand on the ripped edges straight away, preventing him from opening them.
“Those are our proofs. Yoongi-ah, we were waiting for your report before starting inspecting them,” Seokjin adds up, his shoulders imposing and his pitch solemn. “Did you find any witnesses?”
“I found something a little better than that,” Yoongi quickly replies. “I found victims.” Seokjin and the others suddenly quieten down and wait for Yoongi to explain himself further. “Their names are Haechan and Mark. I mean- I’m not sure if those are their real names, alias or something else, but they’re surely victims of bribery. They’re boy-toys at that Omelas thing you asked me to go earlier, hyung.”
Jimin sharpens his gaze and suddenly turns to Namjoon. “Just like I told you, see?” he tells him. “It’s the same fucking bastard. We’re all on the same boat and he wants to watch us all sink with him.”
Yoongi throws a quizzical glance at Namjoon as he shrugs, and he listens to Hoseok groaning. When he looks up at Seokjin, he notices the advocate doesn’t seem impressed by Jimin’s burst either. Apparently Yoongi is the only one who isn’t understanding shit here.
“Wait, which bastard are you talking about?” he asks, rightfully so. “And did you all already know about those boys?”
“Not only them,” Seokjin says, shaking his head like if he were trying to swipe off his worries. “Minhyung and Donghyuck aren’t the only victims of that asshole. There are around fifteen and twenty of them, all aged between sixteen and twenty-five.”
Yoongi starts to feel his own frustrating coiling in his guts and making its way up to his brain fast and hushed. It won’t be long before he totally loses his mind, and his friends better be prepared to face the consequences. “Could you please tell me who’s the asshole here, guys? I’m not really following you.”
Surprisingly enough, it’s Namjoon who replies first this time around. “This is a huge hustle, hyung,” he says. “Jimin, those boys, and even Taehyung- They’re all chessman of some big fucked up wager.”
“Wait, what?”
“This is the thing, hyung.” Jimin steps in, and Yoongi would lie if he said he didn’t feel shivers running up his spine as soon as he heard Jimin’s raspy voice so close to his ears. “You know I am a- I mean, you know what I am by now, don’t you?”
Yoongi tries to bear Jimin’s stare. He really does try, but Jimin’s gaze is just way too intense for him to resist, and Yoongi doesn’t want to take the risk of falling any deeper into those dangerous eyes. He deviates his stare and looks down at his own hands instead, playing with his bleeding cuticles. “I know,” he replies then. “I know you’re a pusher, Jimin. I guess we all do, don’t we?”
Jimin doesn’t flinch at Yoongi’s abrupt tone. He remains perfectly still in his chair, half smoked cigarette hanging between his luscious lips and overly ripped jeans exposing his toned legs.
So unholy, and yet so, so sublime.
Yoongi wants to touch him.
He desperately wants to touch Jimin.
Yoongi could say Jimin just sort of dropped in his life unannounced, but somehow he could also swear he was already waiting for Jimin years prior to their very first rendezvous. They were looking for each other before they met throughout their names and what they heard about one another via Taehyung. They were both searching a connection, they were both searching their missing piece.
Their broken fragments fit together just right, but still they create the most misshapen mosaic the world has ever displayed once they’re assembled. They’re supposed to be beautiful, but they aren’t, and in such a beautiful world, ugly works of art aren’t meant to be.
They get rejected.
When the night they finally saw each other came along, their bodies and their hands recognized one another before their minds did. They were already bonded by a mute obligation even before they spoke to each other, and since that day, nothing has been the same for Yoongi.
Their friendship may be a hazard, but it is the only thing which keeps Yoongi going nowadays. And maybe, just maybe, Jimin feels the same as Yoongi does.
“You know, then,” Jimin meekly repeats after him. “Thank you for saying it out loud in my stead.”
“Can you tell me what is your takeaway in all of this, Jimin?” Yoongi demands him, so focused on his static figure, he almost forgets about the others surrounding them. “How and why did you mess yourself up so badly in the first place? Can you please, please tell me now? I’m begging you.”
Jimin reduces his mouth to a straight line and he goes radio silence for a little while, all eyes on him and mute requests for explanations traveling back and forth between him and the others. Jimin’s lips quiver, his hands tremble alongside them. He’s trying. He’s attempting to speak up, but he’s struggling so hard, Yoongi almost feels sorry for him. He knows way too well how irking it is to not be able to express your own thoughts well in public when you need it the most.
This is exactly how misconceptions are born, and people like him and Jimin are easy target of those fallacies. Because they don’t defend themselves. Because they tend to keep their frustration inside and wait for it to cool down before they let it out as tepid steam. It’s boiling magma, what’s creeping inside their guts. The longer they hold it back, the more the pressure becomes. When they explode, unpredictably and violently, everyone is suddenly afraid of them.
Of course.
How could someone not be scared of a renegade heart? It is basically a ticking bomb build to destroy everything and everyone around it when the time comes. No one voluntarily sticks close to danger, and both Yoongi and Jimin are jeopardies on legs.
That’s also the reason why Yoongi doesn’t consider himself a people-person. His sensibility isn’t compatible with the natural sociability running in the human genome. How is he supposed to live peacefully, when his awareness of the world being reigned by chaos torments him every day and night?
Jimin is far luckier than him.
Jimin doesn’t care whether the world is about to collapse or if the stars are copiously falling from the sky. His own wellbeing is his one and only concern. He’s egoistic, a sly puppet master, a manipulative bitch whose state of mind is distorted to the point he doesn’t recognize what is wrong and distinguish it from what is right anymore. He is a broken record which keeps transmitting waves that have an underlying pattern of disturbing frequencies in them, an unnatural binaural sound.
And Yoongi fucking adores him.
Jimin only looks at himself, that’s undeniable, but Yoongi-
He only looks at Jimin.
It’s exactly that slight imbalance of care and affection toward each other that is turning Yoongi crazy. He feels like he is on the top of a seesaw which only goes up, and if Jimin were to get off of it one day, Yoongi would crash to the ground and Jimin wouldn’t even attempt to help him to raise himself up.
It’s such a turbulent, unsettling thing, to rely on an unstable relationship.
Yoongi can’t take it anymore.
“I think it’s time to expose the truth.” Jimin extinguishes his cigarette in the dirty ashtray next to the black bag. “I’m ready for this. I’m no longer afraid of your judgments, guys.”
To Yoongi it’s almost like observing a great king’s inglorious fall up close.
Jimin’s strongholds are crumbling into pieces, his defenses pathetically dying one after the other in the war Jimin declared to himself. There aren’t going to be winners or losers in this battle of morals and ethics. The only prevailing force is Jimin’s own collapsing conscience, a relentless and frightening power.
Jimin has been betrayed by his own neediness, and in the end it defeated him fairly and square.
But Yoongi didn’t fall for an underdog. He fell for a strong, firm fighter, and he won’t accept any less from Jimin than a vigorous vengeance.
He has to.
Jimin has to prove he isn’t just a fruit of Yoongi’s fervid imagination. The Jimin he fell for can’t be an idealization, or else Yoongi is going to totally lose it.
He is going to totally lose his sanity.
“I…” Jimin bites his upper lip hard, angry red mouth painted on his palish face creating the most ill-favored contrast. “I needed money. I really did, and I still do. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say in that regard. I’m aware hardships aren’t an excuse, but- But there was nothing else I could do to afford my studies without having to spend my days in a fucking bar or something. I don’t have time to apply for a job. Not a normal, legal one, at least. The pay is never good enough anyway,” he says. “So, yeah… Money. Money is my problem. That’s mainly it.”
That’s mainly it?
What the hell?
Yoongi refuses to believe it. It can’t be true.
“Money, Jimin? Do you seriously need more money for the fucking Academy you’re attending?” Yoongi blinks idly, incapable of seeing Jimin’s point. “What the fuck, Jimin. What the actual fuck. You got a scholarship for your tuitions, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I already told you I did, but it doesn’t fully cover my equipments’ expenses, obviously,” Jimin rebuts, sassy and unapologetic. “Pointe shoes are damn expensive and you need to change them too fucking frequently. And costumes? Do you know how much the costumes we wear on stage cost? You should know better, hyung. Isn’t producing just the same as dancing when it comes to counts?”
“Well, partially,” Yoongi has to admit. “But I never had to sell my dignity away in order to pay my stuffs. There’s a well-visible line which separates necessity from avarice, but apparently you decided to cross it anywise. I’m so fucking disappointed in you.”
That’s the moment Yoongi sees the sparkles glimmering in Jimin’s irises turning into a violent wildfire, but Namjoon butts in before Jimin can say anything at all and drag Yoongi’s blunt ass down.
“Hyung, wait a second,” he calmly says, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “I think you are exaggerating. You can’t just put the blame on Jimin and don’t even try to ear him out. That’s the least we can all do.”
“Oh, great,” Yoongi rolls his eyes and shrugs off Namjoon’s touch. “Now I’m the insensible one here.”
“No, hyung. You’re not insensible. None of us is,” Namjoon insists. “Just listen to what Jimin has to say. Then, and only then, you can come up with your conclusions.”
Yoongi remains quiet, and Jimin takes his silence as an approval of some sort. He picks up the bag next to the ashtray placed on the tabletop in front of him, he brings it over his chest, then he stares right into Yoongi’s eyes.
Right into Yoongi’s soul.
“Hyung, this is-”
He hasn’t even started talking when the ring bell echoes loudly in the room, startling them both.
Hoseok jumps from his seat and goes straight for the front door in Jimin’s place. As soon as he opens it, Yoongi sees a glimpse of hope in the shape of two men walking down the narrow hall.
Taehyung and Jungkook are here.
They are here, and Yoongi is overwhelmed by the chill vibes they bring in as soon as they step in the flat. Jungkook is smiling confidently, whereas Taehyung’s resting face doesn’t display any strong emotion, neither positive nor negative.
Despite their mild pace, Yoongi can already tell from Jungkook’s badly concealed troubled expression and Taehyung’s uninterested look that they aren’t ready to face Jimin just yet. Probably they weren’t planning to stop by Jimin’s right after their tip-off at the kiss bang, and Yoongi can’t help but relate to them.
They are all in this together, and if they are bound to fall, they are going to fall like a domino.
Jimin leaves his unfinished sentence midair. His mouth is agape, his gaze sincerely surprised. He clearly wasn’t expecting his old friends to show up at his flat tonight out of all nights.
“Well, surprise, surprise,” Namjoon suddenly speaks up. “I didn’t think you guys would’ve seriously come today, on such a short notice too. That’s a nice twist of events.”
“And why is that, hyung?” Taehyung crosses his arms to his chest, his left eyebrow snottily raised up. “Aren’t we involved in this thing too, uh?”
“You are, yeah. Of course you are, and that is the reason why I told you guys to come join us.” Namjoon smiles and gestures at them both to get closer, to take a seat next to him. “We were just getting started. Please, accommodate yourselves and let’s reason together. Seven heads think better than one.”
“Hyung, what’s the meaning of this?” Jimin turns to Namjoon, his eyes wide open. “You didn’t tell me you invited them too.”
Hyung?
God, Yoongi is seriously taking in consideration the idea of running away once for all.
None of this makes any fucking sense.
None.
“You would’ve stopped me if I told you,” Namjoon remarks. “So I did it anyway, but behind your back. I think there are some things left to say between the three of you. You’re welcome, Jiminie.”
Jiminie.
Fucking Jiminie too, now? Just when Yoongi started to think it couldn’t get any worse…
Hoseok abruptly glares at Jungkook, who immediately tenses up. “Ok, but why is hot stuff here too?” he asks. “I believed we weren’t messing with the police, guys. I don’t want to go to jail just yet. Can you picture me behind the bars? I would go insane. And then I would drive all my cellmates crazy too. I can’t do it. I just can’t. Think about the collateral damages. Think about the environment. Don’t you guys care about world peace or something?”
“Oh, no! We aren’t reporting anyone in this room!” Jungkook exclaims, moving his knees closer to one another in a submissive position, perhaps to make himself look less intimidating to Hoseok’s wary eyes. “I swear to my father! You have to trust me, hyung.”
“We are, actually,” Seokjin contradicts him straight away, firm and concise, almost insensibly. “We are all reunited here because Min Yoongi sued his friend Park Jimin, and said Park Jimin is going to get arrested tonight.”
An uproar.
Seokjin’s simple and clear sentence causes an uproar. Everyone except him, Namjoon and Yoongi himself opens their mouths wide and shrieks. Their yells overlap each other, and to Yoongi’s ears they sound like a fucking screeching disk.
They are about to kill him.
Yoongi is damn sure they are about to kill him, and he would gladly let them have their way. He actually wants them to kill him right here, right now. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with this shit anymore and he could finally take a well deserved break among the flames of the underworld.
He misses his lazy, lonely nights. He misses being in control of his own territory. Jimin has always been one hell of an intruder, but Yoongi has never been in for the ride all the way down the netherworld alongside him. He just wants to be left alone, for fuck’s sake.
He has already seen enough of Jimin’s rotten planet, and he doesn’t want to become a part of it.
That’s it.
“God, shut the fuck up!” Seokjin screams above the others, startling Yoongi. “What did Namjoon just say? You have to stay calm and ear out Yoongi’s motives too. Jimin isn’t the only victim here, okay? You are all in a tight spot because you let yourselves get involved in his case, you fools. Yoongi is the only one whose balls were big enough to finally take some safety measures to save your stupid asses. You should be damn grateful. And you must worship me too, since I decided to lend you a hand for free. Come on, let’s collaborate. It’s not that hard. Do you guys need a group hug before we start? Because, just so you know, I’m totally up for that, but we have to make it quick. We don’t have time to lose.”
As soon as Seokjin shuts his mouth, Yoongi feel like applauding him and bow before his majestic recitation. Seokjin truly is the devil’s advocate, and Yoongi couldn’t ask for a cleverer life savior. It seems like Seokjin has got a few aces up his sleeve, and Yoongi has always loved a good player. If their operation goes smoothly as expected, Seokjin is going to be the one to thank.
Him and Namjoon, who introduced Yoongi to Seokjin in the first place.
“Min Yoongi is suing Park Jimin for drugs of dependence’s possession,” Seokjin tries again. “And this is how the defendant is going to avoid jail, if possible.” Seokjin points his index at the bag between Jimin’s grabby hands. “Proofs. He will submit those proofs to the agents during his interrogation. He will declare that those stuff never belonged to him, but that they were handed over to him by his supervisor for him to sell in his place. ”
Jimin takes the hint and opens up the bag straight away before the others’ eyes, while Seokjin picks up the envelopes scattered on the table and leisurely discloses them.
“This is how the story goes: Jung Hoseok has ordered all of this so he could blow the whistle and sustain Min Yoongi’s lawsuit,” Seokjin says. “Park Jimin met his client Jung Hoseok in his apartment so he could sell him those stuff, but by doing so he directly fell in Hoseok and Yoongi’s trap. And here is our probation: Jimin’s satchel.”
Jimin opens the zip and he turns the bag upside down, letting all its content fall unceremoniously on the tabletop. Jimin’s sack is full of different types of addictive shit: bootleg cigarettes and syringes, weird pills and weed overload, an outstanding amount of China white carefully wrapped in small transparent packets and God know what use has Jimin for those painkillers in the back.
Yoongi is beyond impressed and scared shitless.
How the hell did Jimin manage to never get caught while carrying around these hidden excuses of weapons of mass destruction? Jungkook’s father couldn’t have possibly closed both eyes in front of such a terrifying sight. Jimin must have trained hard to do this type of fuckery so well. He must have been guided step by step by the asshole he was talking about earlier. His boss, or whatever he is to Jimin.
And Yoongi comes to think, Jimin is plain incredible, his blood colder than a snake’s and his eyes shinier than golden coins.
He has got all the right prerequisite to make fools out of the high-ranked agents who are going to interrogate him and get away with his punishment just fine. He’s got the manners; he’s got the charm; he’s got those disarming droopy eyes. Seokjin must already know Jimin’s enchanting way of doing things is going to be their winning card, and he is willing to risk it by putting it down on the betting table since the first round.
Yoongi can’t help but be afraid, though. He doesn’t want to lose Jimin.
Not again; never again.
“Jimin is a pusher, or let’s just say a second-handed dealer,” Seokjin reprises, as he peels off the documents from their envelopments and shuffles them to keep them in check. “He isn’t directly involved in the traffic, but his boss is. Jimin’s overseer provides his subjects with these drugs for them to sell around his proprieties, such as his nightclubs. We know damn well those nightclubs are nothing but barely concealed brothels, and we all know prostitution isn’t fucking allowed anywhere in our country. His whole income is based on felonies, and that says pretty much all. It goes without saying he is prosecutable by law.”
Seokjin slams the letters on the tabletop, making the clay ashtray tremble at the impact. Numbers and unknown juridic terms scroll down Yoongi’s clueless gaze. He doesn’t really understand what he is withstanding at the moment, but those big numbers neatly organized in columns speak a language which he has learned to decipher by now.
Money.
Those numbers codify a fuckton of money.
Illicit money which paid off Jimin’s academic fees; illicit money which bought Jimin’s clothes; illicit money which irremediably fucked up a once-sane man.
“Let’s start with this: tax evasions concerning his nightclubs, or brothels if you prefer. This is all I could find in my archives, since my field is strictly economical, as you might already know. There’s already an open case regarding the Omelas Boys, but it’s not much. It just says that the owner has no declared income, which it’s already pretty much suspicious by itself,” Seokjin keeps saying while he stares down at these documents, following with his index the first lines on the paper, then he turns to Jimin. “Obviously, that man is also involved in illegal traffic of drugs,” he adds up, and at last he points his chin at Taehyung. “Prostitution and child abuse with a delicious side dish of bribery and recidivism. This man has got it all, a perfect tricolon case. He’s basically a public menace and a government’s target. We can bring him down if we want to.”
Yoongi makes an anticipated wait for the but which is inevitably to come. He’s already listened to this song about a million times already. Where there is a melody too good to be true, there’s always a jar embedded among the highest notes of the score. It’s just impossible to aim for the peak and prevent a dangerous fall a priori. Yoongi has learned by now that he has to have a taste of dirt before he’s allowed to enjoy a piece of heaven. It always goes down before it goes up.
That’s how cigarettes work. They produce both ashes and smoke while they’re being consumed, texture and volatility at the same time. The ashes end up scattered on the floor, while the smoke dissipates itself in the air.
And isn’t life itself, oh so wonderful life, so full of sentiments, so full of wonders, just so… void of matter overall?
Yoongi can finally see Jimin’s point, the reason why he desperately wants to fill his life with shiny pretty things: life consists in inconstancy. He can feel emotions, he can feel the connection between himself and the other, but he can’t see nor touch them, or let alone control them.
On the other hand, he can own money, he can use them to buy new things to stock up his thoughts with until they totally overtake his mind. Big cash require extra focus. It must feel nice to be so rich to not not having to worry about anything except money itself.
Jimin doesn’t want to die a slave. He wants to live, desperately so. He craves a stable life even more than Yoongi does.
That is the reason why he accepted that job.
That is the reason why he had involved them all in his big fucking mess.
That is the reason why he needed all those money.
But -there’s always a but- Yoongi still thinks there is something missing in the picture he just smeared his own ideas with. In this perfect design of a life blessed with all sorts of material goods, his heart stopped beating. In this picture, a picture in which Jimin isn’t portrayed, Yoongi can’t listen to the echoes of his distant dreams, the vigorous roars of his passion and the feeble whispers of his soul. He can’t listen to anything at all.
It is surely a masterpiece, but masterpieces are only meant to be seen, and Yoongi has never based his whole existence on appearance alone.
Yoongi would rather die than live in a soundless world.
He would rather die than live in a world in which Jimin doesn’t exist.
“But…”
And here comes the second objection.
“But Jimin has to sacrifice himself for the greater good in order to do so,” Seokjin concludes. “I’m afraid there are no other ways to proceed further with this case. We need a starting point.”
As soon as he stops talking, a pregnant silence falls down on Seokjin and it wraps his broad shoulder as a huge, ominous mantle. The absence of voices is so thick, it almost makes Yoongi deaf to any other kind of sounds. No one moves until Jimin breaks the ice, and when he does so, Taehyung and Jungkook twitch at the same time.
“I will do it,” Jimin quickly decides. “I will take the fall.”
The king is dead.
“I’m going to let them arrest me, for the greater good.”
Long live the king.
“Are you sure about this, Chim?” Taehyung asks him, while the others can just stare at him dumbfounded. “What if you get sentenced for real and you never get out of prison? How could we help you then?”
Jimin looks back at Taehyung, his gaze suddenly mellow and loaded with compassion. “I will endure it, somehow. I can do it,” it’s his simple answer. “But before that, I need to tell you something. Namjoon-hyung was right: lately I’ve been dying to apologize to you, but I didn’t have the courage to do so until tonight. It’s my fault you’re so unhappy nowadays, Taetae. I did terrible things to you, and I’m sorry about the jacket episode too. If I had known about you and Yoongi-hyung sooner, I would’ve stepped back without saying a word. I’m truly, truly sorry. For everything. I didn’t mean to come in-between you guys. I hope I didn’t damage your relationship in any way.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jimin! I didn’t sleep with Taehyung that night!” Yoongi bursts forth, sick and tired of that old story. “I never did! Me and Taehyung are just friends! We have been fucking neighbors since we were kids. We’re basically brothers who moved to the big city together, and that’s all. Get it through your head already!”
Taehyung bites his lips hard and lowers his head right after Yoongi’s blowout, his gaze heavy with sentiments too hard to decrypt. He opens up and quickly closes again his mouth a couple of times before he definitely stops to catch his breath. He looks like he’s on the verge of saying something, but in the end he always choices to keep whatever he is thinking about to himself.
Taehyung’s mouth is way too small for his big thoughts.
Yoongi hates Taehyung’s quietness, but he doesn’t have the right to criticize it.
Isn’t he just the same as Taehyung, after all?
No one could understand Taehyung better than Yoongi himself.
“We really aren’t a thing, Chim,” Taehyung compliantly says at last. “That photo… I don’t even know why I sent it to you that night. It was silly, and it obviously hurt you. I’m the one who should apologize to you. I was jealous, that much I can admit. Don’t ask me the reason why. I’m still not sure about it myself. I’m sorry, Chim. You mean everything to me. I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it weren’t for you. Do you think we can draw a line under this pointless tragedy and get over it? Are we friends again?”
“But I-” Jimin blinks, his eyes suddenly watery. “Taetae, I dragged you down with me. Your job-”
“I accepted it,” Taehyung interrupts him. “I accepted that job. I chose it. I willingly gave my body to those people, Chim. I knew what I was doing, and I don’t regret it least bit. I’m okay. I’m really okay, you don’t have to worry about me.”
“But what are you going to do now that the Omelas Boys is about to be seized? What if the police tracks you down as well?”
“Taehyung-ssi outdid you this time around, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook suddenly barges in, gently patting Taehyung’s arched back. “We were talking about the possibility of him getting arrested too just a few minutes ago, but worry not! He’s going to be perfectly fine! He is an incredible actor, I have to recognize it.”
“Actor?” Yoongi raises his brows, his confusion getting worse each passing minute. “I thought you were a prostitute, Taehyung.”
“I am a prostitute,” Taehyung confirms. “But I’m a very smart one, if you don’t mind. I will easily make it appear like I was forced to sell myself to my boss’ clients with the footages he took of me while I was working. You had to see me crying and whimpering in front of the cameras like a pro. That man is seriously an incautious asshole. These videos are going to be his checkmate, and since we were all paid under the table, no one is going to question how we ended up in his brothel. They can interrogate us at most, but we will all be considered victims of that asshole nevertheless. They will think of us as hostages. If we come together and riot against our boss, we will have the upper hand and it will make our story more believable. It’s not like we will bluntly lie anyway. Some of us, including me, seriously got it bad from the start. You know, there was no security whatsoever in that bar. You can imagine what happened in these rooms when no one was around.”
Taehyung shrugs lightly, and Yoongi’s heart just drops. He didn’t deserve it. Taehyung didn’t deserve any of this. But he is glad Taehyung seems to be doing just fine. His attitude changed in the span of those past months, and Yoongi could see Taehyung’s improvements. He even bought himself a brand new neck for his saxophone, which has been pretty reassuring for Yoongi.
He had missed his favorite musician.
He had missed Taehyung’s sonatas.
“It’s a lose-lose situation for him and a win-win situation for us. We got this, guys.”
Taehyung’s wrap up leaves no room for uncertainty.
Yoongi is still struggling to place all the pieces in the right order, but Taehyung’s speech has been still clarifying enough for Yoongi to finally get the big picture and fix it permanently in his brain.
Well, at least he is doing all one can do to fucking understand something.
“Yup, these were some unbelievable news, young man! I’m glad you got your hands on these videos before the police’s raid. They’re going to be our signature songs, we can modify them according our needs when the right time comes,” Seokjin comments. “A smart decision, indeed.”
Yoongi frowns, lost in his own confusion once again. “Do we already have these footages?”
“We do, of course,” Namjoon answers him, then he gestures at Taehyung to do something with his long coat. At Namjoon’s silent request, Taehyung takes out a few CDs out of its bottomless pockets, and he shows them to Yoongi.
“I’m sorry we didn’t update you about our plan along the way, but we needed you to be fully focused on your task tonight,” Namjoon adds later on. "We had to get to these Mark and Haechan boys before it was too late. And you did it amazingly, hyung. We’re on the right track now, and that’s mainly thanks to you.”
“What the…” Yoongi blinks drily, seizing these CDs with his incinerating glare. “Have I basically been a puppet all along?”
“Kind of,” Namjoon harshly replies. “It was necessary, hyung. The less you knew, the better. It’s not like you lack delicacy, but you know… Some things are meant to be handled with white gloves. It’s not your fault.”
Of fucking course.
Of fucking course Namjoon had to make things worse for Yoongi, to make him feel like a lesser pawn, telling him his leather gloves are too rough to handle Jimin’s case.
As if he wasn’t already well aware of it.
Yoongi doesn’t know why and when Namjoon decided to orchestrate Jimin’s situation. He has nothing to do with Jimin, after all. They aren’t friends -they surely weren’t before Hoseok’s graduation party-, they aren’t colleagues, and they don’t really know anything about one another. Yoongi’s one hundred percent sure of it: Namjoon was clueless about Jimin’s status while they were in Seokjin’s studio, discussing procedures.
So why?
Why is he trying to overthrow Yoongi’s priority and make it his now?
Money must have driven him crazy; Yoongi has no other plausible explanations.
Yoongi doesn’t know this confident, bossy Namjoon. This man isn’t Yoongi’s gentle, cheerful best friend. He’s a whole new person, and Yoongi is still not sure if he likes him or not. For the time being, he can just say he doesn’t particularly appreciate his interventions.
No.
Screw that.
Yoongi hates it. Yoongi fucking hates Namjoon’s behavior right now. It is so out of place, totally uncalled for and damn annoying.
What the hell happened to him?
What did Jimin do to him?
“It’s okay, Yoongi-ah. Don’t think about it too far. I barely had the time to introduce myself properly to everyone inside this room. We’re rushing things on porpoise, you know better than anyone else here that we don’t have time,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi unexpectedly feels exposed.
He has never had trouble concealing his thoughts behind a bland mask before, but somehow Seokjin has seen him right through it anyway and told the others about it.
Talking about superior abilities.
Seokjin’s eyes wander all across Taehyung’s figure in the meantime, his brows raised up as he scrutinizes the younger closely and attentively. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we didn’t even shake hands, for one thing. So you’re the infamous star of the Omelas Boys, yeah? Kim Taehyung. Yoongi’s childhood friend. Namjoon already told me everything about you while we were waiting for you and the police chief’s kid some hours ago.”
“Did he?” Taehyung turns his head to Namjoon and smiles emptily at him, moon crescent eyes staring straightly at Namjoon. It’s crystal clear Taehyung didn’t like the idea of Namjoon talking about him to Seokjin behind his back, and Yoongi can’t really blame him. He wouldn’t have liked it either. “And what did he say about me, if you can tell me?”
“Nice things, mostly. He praised your capability of reacting quickly in tight situations like the one you’re stuck in. He made me believe in you, and I don’t regret trusting his judgment. You turned out to be a great helper, didn’t you?” Seokjin replies to him, and Namjoon breathes a sigh of relief.
Seokjin singlehandedly nailed it; he avoided getting on Taehyung’s bad side, and considering how visibly nervous Taehyung is at the moment, he did amazing. It actually wouldn’t have been as easy as Seokjin made it appear, if he had been someone else. A tense Taehyung is a cautious Taehyung, and a cautious Taehyung is an extremely quiet Taehyung. However Seokjin was able to draw a few words out of him so effortlessly, Yoongi almost didn’t recognize his friend just now.
Taehyung doesn’t talk to strangers. He never does. He has never seen Seokjin before today, and yet he is speaking to him. Maybe it’s just Seokjin’s aura. It feels like home. Lying on Seokjin is the best thing Yoongi has experienced lately. Seokjin alleviated the pressure of Yoongi’s responsibilities by uplifting them from his shoulders and taking a good share of them so Yoongi wouldn’t have to deal with them alone anymore.
God, Yoongi fucking likes him. He wants to become Seokjin’s friend and learn from him how to make people feel better so simply, just like he does. He has never longed more for such a thing. He has never longed more for a friend like Seokjin in his life.
“Jimin was the one who brought the child abuse thing up to my attention, Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin speaks up again. “Donghyuck-ssi and Minhyung-ssi are your colleges, right?”
“Not exactly,” Taehyung replies, resting his chin on the palm of his slender hand. “They’re relegated to their kiss bangs, but I’m not. You could say my freedom’s margin is a little wider than theirs, just because I’m slightly older. Of course that implies different types of tasks too. My job is somewhat dirtier than theirs.”
“Wait a minute,” Yoongi interrupts them right there. “Are these guys minors? Mark and Hae- Donghyuck and Minhyung?”
“Not anymore, no. But they were barely sixteen and eighteen when they first started, according to what they told me at the beginning. So yeah, they were basically child when they jumped the gun, and they didn’t really know what they were supposed to do inside these kiss bangs until it just… Well, until it just happened.”
“God, these innocent guys… Such poor, clueless souls.” Seokjin shakes his head in disagreement, then he throws an eloquent look at Yoongi. “I’m glad you convinced these boys to present themselves to the court tomorrow. I wonder how many people are trapped in their same conditions. This case is no joke, and I have no doubts there are way more bastards than we think involved in all of this, hidden somewhere right under our noses,” he says. “Suing Jimin is only our first step. There’s so much more behind the scenes that is yet to be revealed. We have to fight for these people’s lives. We have to fight for their human rights.”
“Uhm, advocate-nim?” Jungkook raises his hand out of the blue, interrupting Seokjin’s stream of encouraging words. “Can I tell you something?”
“Please, call me hyung. I’m Seokjin-hyung to you, kid. Advocate-nim is the most pompous appellative I’ve ever heard. Don’t you dare repeat it ever again in my presence,” Seokjin mutters, but by the way he let his shoulders down as soon as Jungkook called out for him, Yoongi can already tell Jungkook has just softened him too. At least a little bit. “What is the problem, boy?”
“I guess I will take a step back as soon as Jimin-ssi’s case is closed,” Jungkook says. “I mean, I will try to help as many people as possible, that is for sure, but I- Yeah, I feel a little overwhelmed at the moment. This is too much to take all at once, and I don’t think I will be able to keep up with each single investigation which is going to follow Jimin’s. I’m still in rehab, after all, and I haven’t completed my training yet, meaning I don’t have any legal power right now. I’m sorry, I’m kind of useless for the time being. Of course I will talk to my father and I will convince him to collaborate with you guys, but other than that there is not much I can do.”
“There’s no need to mention it, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon answers in Seokjin’s stead. “Of course Jimin is our main preoccupation. Once we’re done with him, we can all retreat to our private lives. You don’t have to worry about anything else, I promise you.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Jungkook inspires deeply and exhales a few seconds later, taking his sweet time to decelerate his heartbeats’ pace. “I’m sorry about my cowardice, but- I’m just so scared. I wasn’t aware of the danger I was facing until Yoongi-hyung came along and made me open my eyes. I was so close to- Man, I almost hit the bottom some weeks ago, and I’m still kind of shocked because of that.” Jungkook turns his face to Yoongi, and Yoongi fucking dies at the impact with his beautiful, spotless eyes. “I have been so lucky to have found you, hyung. I don’t even know how to thank you properly for all you’ve done for me.”
“I didn’t do much,” Yoongi tells him, attempting to sound as firm as he can, but his soft tone betrays him anywise. “Actually, Jimin was the one who asked me to take you in my care. He’s the only one you should thank.”
“Jimin-ssi?” Jungkook twists his head toward Jimin this time around, his gaze sparkling like the core of the goddamn Milky Way. “You sent Yoongi-hyung to me? As a guardian angel?”
And right there, at Jungkook’s improbable assertion, Yoongi fucking loses it. He chokes on his own second-hand smoke, while Jimin bursts out laughing at Jungkook’s face. “A guardian angel?” Jimin repeats, his giggles lively and so, so melodious to Yoongi’s ears. “I mean, I can totally see your point, he has a pretty angelic face, but-” Yoongi freezes as soon as Jimin’s eyes interlace his own. “He is more like a precious friend of ours rather than a guard or something, isn’t he?”
A friend.
A precious friend.
Jimin just defined him a precious friend of his, and that’s great, really. Yeah, he finally has a nominative. He knows exactly where he is standing, he acquired a stable place in Jimin’s life for the first time in forever. It’s about time. He is Jimin’s friend; he is Jimin’s precious friend. They are good acquaintances. They are close, more or less.
A friend.
They are actually friend.
“I see…” he mutters. “We’re friends, then."
But why does it hurts so fucking much? Why does it feel like he just got stabbed in the back?
“Truth to be told, I considered you my best friend, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook says, swiping off Yoongi’s distraction with his tender voice. “I also thought there was something going on between the two of us. We met alone so many times outside your working hours, and I liked to think of these meetings as… Well, as dates, kind of. I felt so comfortable in your presence, and I guess you know by now it isn’t something I say quite easily. You were special to me, Jimin-ssi. I mean, you still are, but- But I’m a little afraid of opening up to you straight away now. I need time to think about our relationship again and consider which way I should take, whether I should forgive you or turn my back at you once for all.”
Yoongi frowns, not expecting such a harsh conclusion coming from Jungkook, and evidently Jimin wasn’t anticipating it either, judging from the blank expression he has pulled off as soon as these words dripped down from Jungkook’s tongue, vicious and yet rightful.
“I’m so sorry, Jungkook. You are right. I don’t really deserve your kindness, but still… Allow me to excuse myself to you. Allow me to show you a better side of me from now on. Please, don’t leave me now.”
Jimin doesn’t have the nerves to look directly in Jungkook’s eyes while he says his apology, and Yoongi can totally get his reasons. He has already taken too much advantage of Jungkook, but he is still begging for pardon. He is begging Jungkook to stay with him.
Jimin is sorry, and he is sincere, and that is surely a first for Jimin.
Yoongi hopes Jungkook takes stock of the situation and makes the right choice. They both deserve a second chance. Everyone does, it doesn’t matter how big the crime they have committed is. Jungkook himself isn’t totally black or white altogether. He has got his shades too, he just hasn’t realized it yet.
“I needed to catalyze your attention somehow,” Jimin keeps saying. “I seriously needed your help, Jungkook. I- I don’t even know what to say to you. I’m truly a terrible person. I’ve been terrible to you too, not only Taehyung. God, I’m so sorry. I’m a fucking mess.”
“So… You didn’t really care about me, after all. You just needed my connections,” Jungkook wraps up, but Jimin is quick to deny it.
“I did, and I still do. I care about you. I swear, Jungkook. I seriously like you. You’re a great listener and I enjoyed each night we spent together, each word we exchanged during our pillow talks,” Jimin admits, slightly bowing his head as if he were trying to shout his apologize with his whole body. “I just… I don’t like you in that way. I’m so sorry about that, but I can’t force my feelings. I want to be completely honest to you. I don’t want to lie to you ever again.”
“It’s okay, Jimin-ssi. You don’t have to apologize for your inexistent emotions. That’s my own personal problem and I will deal with it by myself. It’s seriously okay now, I’m fine.” Jungkook waves his hands at Jimin to make him stop bowing his head before him. “If Yoongi-hyung hadn’t told me to get a clue earlier, maybe I would feel much worse by now. But thanks to him, I don’t mind anymore. I’m aware it’s over, and I’m cool with it. We are still friends, aren’t we? I mean… If you even considered me a friend before all of this started, of course.”
“We’re friends! Sure we are, Jungkook!” Jimin hastily confirms, raising his chin and finally facing Jungkook properly. “You made sure I never returned home empty handed at the end of the day, even when you didn’t feel like trying out any of my shit. So I can’t be anything but grateful for your contributions. You basically sustained my expenses until a few weeks ago. I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t been there for me. You kept me safe. You’re a hero, Jungkook. You’re my hero.”
Jungkook’s cheeks are suddenly on fire, and he brings his hands over his mouth as he turns into a giggling mess. “Me? A hero? Your hero, Jimin-ssi?” he exclaims, bouncing on his seat excitedly. “That’s too much. I just- I just did what I could, it was nothing special.”
“No way. You did a lot, almost too much, actually,” Jimin insists. “I will pay you back somehow, Jungkook. I swear. I only need to find a proper job and-”
“I don’t need your money, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook stops him before he can even start babbling about finances and stuff. “I just want you to be happy and safe from now on. You can pay me back by going out with me from time to time,” he says, then he turns his gaze to the guys seated all around him. “Or even better! You could help me opening up more and meeting new people. Through you I already encountered these amazing guys, and I have to say I’m not keen on the idea of letting go of them once all of this is over. We should keep in contact. Oh, and I also have a thing for your friend Taehyung-ssi now. I like him quite a lot, for that matter. We can stick together for the time to come. I would love that.”
Taehyung is taken aback by Jungkook’s abrupt suggestion, his expression astonished. “You don’t even call us hyungs and yet you want us to hang out together,” he says, making the point of Jungkook’s speech, his brows arched and his lips curled in dismay. By the way he is staring deeply in Jungkook’s unwavering eyes, Yoongi can tell he is not convinced. He is looking for the nitpicking, but he doesn’t know how fucking pure Jungkook’s intentions are yet. It will take a while, but they will come together eventually. Taehyung is trying to deny it to himself, but he is already quite fond of Jungkook. He only needs time to accept it and welcome Jungkook in his life, just like Yoongi himself did not long ago.
It won’t be hard; on the contrary, it is extremely easy to fall for Jungkook.
“I think you should review your priorities first, pretty eyes,” Taehyung says. “You’re going too fast, can’t you see it?”
“Put the blame on Yoongi-hyung for that one,” Jungkook rebuts, and Yoongi just can’t believe he has been thrown under the bus by him out of all people. He really can’t trust anyone here, uh. “He is the one who taught me to never slow down when I’m on a roll.”
Yoongi feels Taehyung’s glare piercing through his skull, but Yoongi doesn’t even try to scold Jungkook for what he just told Taehyung. He isn’t entirely wrong after all.
Yoongi didn’t mean to come off as a bad influence on Jungkook, but it happened anywise. He found out at his expenses that Jungkook is like a damn sponge which absorbs every word he is told as if it were his one and only nourishment.
Maybe Jungkook’s soul hasn’t felt so stuffed in a long ass time, and he just needed someone to show him how to live at his fullest.
Taehyung and Jimin could do so much more for Jungkook rather than Yoongi. That kid deserves friends who are around his same age, someone who truly, deeply understands him. He deserves to go out and enjoy a good taste of a life without anxieties and such.
Yoongi couldn’t possibly offer him something like that.
Yoongi has solely been feeding off poison and remorses lately. He doesn’t remember how to feast anymore, but it is fine by him. He has never been a party-person, after all.
But Jungkook is different.
He is supposed to banquet each day of his precious life. He should celebrate his existence. He is too young to care, too fast to live like Yoongi does.
Jungkook’s brio is no match for Yoongi’s adagio.
“I guess we have plans, then,” Jimin intrudes. “Well, we have plans after my reclusion, just to be precise.”
“Prison isn’t all that bad, Jiminie,” Namjoon comments in lieu of reassurance. “I have been there for a few nights and nothing special happened. It’s a little depressing, to say the truth. Television makes it seem more fun than it actually is.”
“Have you been behind bars, Namjoon-ah?!” Hoseok jumps in. “That’s rad! How did you manage to survive?”
“I just told you I have been there only for a couple of days. It’s not like I had committed a felony or something.” Namjoon sighs. “I wasn’t even supposed to stay there in the first place. I just didn’t want to pay a fine to get away with it unpunished, since I didn’t have any money at that time.”
“Yeah, he’s basically been arrested for spray-painting a few patrols’ cars. That’s how I met this idiot,” Seokjin butts in. “At least the paint’s color was nice. I have never seen a hot pink police’s car prior to that day.”
“Oh, God! I can’t believe this!” Taehyung exclaims, whereas Jungkook claps his hands and laughs along him. “You’re my new role model, hyung! I have the urge to spray-paint some cars right now.”
“Yeah, do it!” Jimin encourages him. “I will organize a jail party while I wait for you guys.”
“Jokes aside, we will come visit you,” Taehyung tells him, his expression back to its usual seriousness. “I swear it won’t take too long. You will be fine, Chim.”
“Wait for me,” Jimin replies. “Wait for my grand return. Everything will be different then, Taetae.”
Taehyung nods, Jungkook smiles at Jimin, and just like that, they are done.
Yoongi can’t help but envy them. It has been so easy for them to apologize to each other, expose their thoughts, just fucking talking about their problems without putting any filter on them.
Their honesty has been so brilliant, it almost hurt Yoongi’s eyes.
Yoongi wished it could have been as easy for him and Jimin, but theirs wasn’t the case. Apparently Jimin doesn’t care enough about their relationship to think that they have to speak to each other in order to save it.
They are friends, after all.
Friends don’t really have to apologize for such trivial things, don’t they?
“Well, guys…” Seokjin rubs his hands together as he stands up from his seat. “I think we said all which was left to say here. Now we have to move.” Then he shoots a glance at Yoongi, and he says: “Me and Yoongi are personally handing Jimin over to the agents. They will decide what to do with him in the morning, most likely. Tomorrow we will catch up with these Minhyung and Donghyuck guys. We’re almost there, we have to be patient just for a little more.”
Said and done.
As soon as Seokjin speaks those last words, everyone follows him outside. Jimin is the last one to stand up and leave the flat. He lingers on the doorstep, looking back at his tiny apartment, black bag close to his chest as if it were a shield. It looks like he doesn’t want to flee just yet.
He is pitiful.
Jimin is so strong, but so pitiful too.
Yoongi doesn’t think twice prior to raising a hand and offering his palm to Jimin. “Hurry up,” he tells him. “Seokjin is waiting for us in the car. We have to go, black peach.”
Jimin stares at Yoongi’s inviting hand for a few seconds before he decides to let his guards down and he intertwines their fingers together. Their hands have always been each other’s perfect fit, as if they were meant to stick close.
Yoongi would never let go of Jimin’s hand, if we could.
But he can’t.
He just can’t.
“Hyung?”
Yoongi stops halfway down the stair, enticed by Jimin’s voice calling for him behind his back. “Yeah, peachy?” he responds to him. “What’s the problem?”
“I have to tell you something before we go. Can we stop for a second?”
“Is it urgent?”
Jimin weakly nods, and there is nothing Yoongi can do except sit on the last step of the stairway and wait for Jimin to do the same. And here they are. Now they ride or die, and unironically enough Yoongi is ready to go down, all the way under those lies and straight to the facts.
Jimin plants himself close to Yoongi, and once they are eye to eye, he speaks up: “Hyung, all the things I said to the others just now are true. I’m aware you don’t trust me anymore, but you have to believe me. I tried to stop, okay? I seriously attempted to riot against my boss and get the hell away from him back then. The point is that there weren’t any ways out for me already. Once you are in business, you have do business or they put you down. I was trapped, I had no other choice but keep doing what I was told to do. My safety was in danger. That man, the one who controls part of the traffic I got involved in, is a powerful bastard. I guess you know what I mean by now. He has infinite connections, and he has also paved his own way through the entertainment industry with his services. That’s how I met him. He saw me dancing in a rehearsal and he approached me to offer me some pot. He promised me he would have made me rich, and he did. He kept his promise, so I can’t really blame him. I can’t blame anyone but myself for being so irresponsible. I was young and stupidly frustrated because I struggled to pay my rent, so of course I accepted, and here I am now,” he tells him down the hatch.
Jimin doesn’t stop to catch his breath. Yoongi actually thinks that if Jimin stops talking right now, he won’t be able to finish telling him his story later on, so he remains quiet as Jimin hangs fire before he kickstarts again.
“He’s a fucking shark, hyung. However, he’s a shark that has never been in the open ocean,” Jimin says. “We have to strike him now and make him fall before he becomes too powerful and too relevant to the public’s eye for us to do anything at all. I’m sorry, but I had to use you. I had to use my friends in order to free myself from his hold. I had to help all those who were in my same conditions, but I couldn’t do it alone. I swear, hyung. I had no ill intentions. It’s just… I know what I did wasn’t correct toward you. But believe me when I say I’m sorry. I’m sorry, hyung. I’m so utterly sorry.”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything for a while, his mouth stuffed with so many questions, he doesn’t even know where to begin. “Your parents?” he asks Jimin first. “You never talked to him about them. Couldn’t they help you somehow?”
“How could they have helped a runaway son?” Jimin shakes his head. “They have no idea about my whereabouts, and clearly they don’t care about my wellbeing, since they never tried to track me down. Maybe they just thought it was a good riddance. I have always been nothing but trouble for them anyway.”
“You ran away from home, Jimin?” Yoongi realizes, quite shockingly too. “But why? And when?”
“Around three years ago, as soon as I had my school-leaving certificate in my hands. I had to follow my dream, hyung,” Jimin replies. “I had to run after my desires. I couldn’t help it, I love dancing too much for my sake. They couldn’t see it, though. My parents wanted me to get a job and sustain our family’s expenses as soon as possible. Each time I mentioned dancing, they laughed at me and told me to stop fantasizing about an impracticable future. I couldn’t make it, hyung. I couldn’t become the outcast my parents wanted me to be. I knew I was bound to do great things. I knew I was good. I just- I just needed someone who believed in me when I was down and I had no confidence in myself whatsoever. If I had found someone like that before that bastard had found me, maybe things would have been different today.”
“I do,” Yoongi merely mutters as soon as Jimin shuts his mouth. “I do believe in you, peachy.”
“I know. I know you believe in me even though you do not believe me.” Jimin’s meek smile makes Yoongi feel warm again. “That is the reason why I rely on you more than I rely on myself, hyung.”
“What about Namjoon, then?” Yoongi asks in the end. “Why him? Did you chose him over me because he’s richer?”
Jimin doesn’t respond straight away. He lets his silence speak in his stead, and are his unsaid words loud and clear.
It doesn’t matter how many times Jimin will try to apologize, Yoongi will never forgive him.
He will never forgive him, but neither he will ever forget him.
“So you are only looking for money, after all.” Yoongi grunts as he slides a hand down his pocket, his fingers unconsciously searching for tobacco. “I see, peachy. You’re a social climber, and a very desperate one. You should merry a noble person in order to achieve your goals, you know? I’m afraid Namjoon isn’t exactly the man that suits your expectations. He is not that rich yet, but maybe someday he will be. I suggest you to seal the deal with him as soon as you can and get over me already. I can’t help your awful need for attentions, Jiminie.”
“Are you jealous, hyung?”
Straightforward and unmerciful.
Yoongi just gave Jimin a loaded gun and he expected him to not shoot him.
A fool.
He is such a fool for Jimin.
Will he ever learn from his past mistakes?
Yoongi snorts, thin smoke coming out the filter’s tip he has just lit. “No, I’m not jealous of him. I’m not jealous of his money. I like my misery, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Not a chance in hell, peachy.”
Jimin is painfully quiet while he stares at Yoongi smoking calmly his cigarette. “I think,” he hesitates. “I think I’m in love with you, Yoongi. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this right now, but- Yeah. In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m fucking in love with you. You had me since the moment you ripped my fishnet and you screamed at me when you found out I stole them. I love you so much, it physically hurts me. Tell me what I’m supposed to do with those feelings. What do I do, hyung?”
Love.
As if such a pure thing could ever exist in Jimin’s wicked world.
Yoongi was right from the very beginning: he really can’t believe Jimin. He can’t believe his stories, he can’t believe his words, he can’t even believe his emotions now.
Yoongi tries hard not to laugh, but he just can’t hold back a subtle know-it-all grin. “Do you love me, peachy? Do you love me like you love your cigarettes? Are you going to consume me to the core and step over me once you get enough?” he asks Jimin, but Jimin slowly shakes his head.
“No, Yoongi. I love you like I love rum. I love how deliciously you burn the back of my tongue, the way you’re so effortlessly hot when you pull off that devil-may-care attitude. I love how fucking sly you are, I love the fact you made me have a little taste of serenity during the time we have spent together. I love you like I love my own life, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you feel the same toward me.”
Yoongi picks up the cigarette between his lips and he points it at Jimin, silently inviting him to take a drag. “Enough with this shit, Jimin,” he harshly tells him. “What do you want me to do with you? You’re going to prison, and just for the record, I don’t date criminals.”
“Then wait,” Jimin urges him. “Wait for me.”
“How much time do I have to wait for you, Jiminie?”
“I don’t fucking know. One day, ten years… It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, as long as you promise me that we will be together in the end.”
“Well…” Yoongi flicks the cigarette, letting the burnt butt fall down as black snow on the floor. “Better late than never. Just don't make me wait forever.”
“I won’t.” Jimin looks down at Yoongi’s half-smoked cigarette, then he shrugs. “I would prefer one last kiss rather than one last cigarette, hyung. Can you do it for me? Can you kiss me before we go?”
Can he?
“Sure.”
Of fucking course he can.
Jimin always takes whatever he wants, and Yoongi is always willing to give him whatever he wants without batting an eye. They are still on top of that unbalanced seesaw, and Yoongi is about to fall off whereas Jimin is having the best time of his goddamn life.
Jimin’s lips are both the intro and the outro of Yoongi’s swan-song. He ignited Yoongi’s tip and he proceeded incinerating each feeling contained in Yoongi’s heart until nothing was left but scorched earth. Jimin’s kisses take his breath away, Jimin’s clutch around his waist makes him feel protected, makes him feel wanted.
Jimin wants him.
He wants Yoongi to play him like his favorite song.
Yoongi bites Jimin’s upper lip as he opens his mouth wide and lets his tongue slip past Yoongi’s. Jimin’s lips are still so soft, and Yoongi is still so enamored of them. He would kiss Jimin for hours and never get enough of it.
It tastes like ash.
Jimin’s mouth smells like smoke; thick and venomous smoke. He keeps biting and pulling Yoongi’s lips until they bleed. It is a torture. A sweet torture, but still a torture nevertheless.
Jimin doesn’t stop there. He lets his warm hands wonder all the way across Yoongi’s back, pinching his skin, marking it with his decaying touch so Yoongi wouldn’t forget about him anytime soon.
As if Yoongi could ever erase him.
As if he could ever erase from his memory the reason of his deep-seated malaise.
A cough, and suddenly Jimin is pulling away, leaving Yoongi gasping for air.
“Namjoon-hyung-”
Yoongi turns around just to see his best friend standing a few feets away from them, his expression unreadable but clearly not surprised. “Seokjin-hyung is waiting for you guys. I’m sorry, but you don’t have all night long. You must go.”
“We are going.”
Jimin immediately jumps up and gestures at Yoongi to do the same. However Yoongi doesn’t move one inch as he glares at Namjoon and Namjoon glares back at him. Yoongi doesn’t understand what Namjoon is trying to tell him with those lucid eyes, but he doesn’t care. If Namjoon has got any problems with him, then he is more than welcomed to speak to him about them.
Jimin waves his hand at Namjoon as Yoongi leisurely goes after him. Namjoon tells them to have a safe ride as they exit the gate and make their way to Seokjin’s car.
“What were you guys doing back there?” Seokjin asks them as soon as they enter his line of sight and sit in the back of his car. “Were you having a fucking quickie?”
“Ah, I wished.” Jimin laughs as Yoongi slaps his thigh to make him stop. “I wonder when I will be able to have a quickie with his hyung again. Have you got any suggestions, Seokjin-hyung? Can I have sex with my accuser once I’m behind the bars?”
“You two are so weird,” Seokjin comments while he starts the engine. “What’s going on between you guys? Are you secretly dating or something?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi says, cooling Seokjin down. “We barely stand each other.”
“A difficult relationship, then. I see…”
Yoongi is already about to shush him when Seokjin speaks up again as soon as they turn the corner. “You did an amazing job, Yoongi-ah,” he abruptly compliments him. “It wasn’t an easy task, but you managed to take control of the situation and lead it in the direction you wanted it to go anyway. You may not know it, but you insanely reduced my work with your exploit. Now you can stand back, let the professional do their magic and solve this rebus for you. The professional being me, of course.”
“Can I ask you a question, hyung?” Yoongi demands him, seizing the chance to clear one of his too-many doubts. “I want a honest response.”
“Sure thing,” Seokjin tells him. “Ask away.”
“Why did you volunteer to resolve Jimin’s case?” Straight to the point, decisive and without a hitch. “Is it because you kind of knew him already?”
Yoongi can’t see it well from his seat, but he can tell Seokjin is frowning by his reflection in the rearview mirror. “What? No way, Yoongi-ah. I don’t really do anything out of spite,” he answers. “Who do you think I am? Some kind of saint? Hell no, I don’t have time for charity. For what concerns me, this is business, my dears. The bigger the case, the bigger the notoriety. This process is going to be huge news for the reporters, so by taking an active part in it I might get interviewed and appear on television’s screens as soon as the conjecture starts. My fame would hit the jackpot if everything goes according to plan, and even if it doesn’t, at least I had a chance to bless the viewers with my looks. Why watch dramas when I happen to exist in real life?”
Right there, at Seokjin’s obnoxious statement, Jimin bursts out laughing and collapses on Yoongi’s shoulder, whereas Yoongi curls his lips in annoyance. “Ah, I see how it is going,” he comments dryly. “And I thought you liked me, hyung.”
“I do like you, Yoongi-ah,” Seokjin rebuts, his hands firm around the steering wheel. “You’re an interesting one. You’re doing so much for those guys, for your friends. And Jimin. Jimin too, of course. You’ve clearly overstepped your boundaries to save his ass. I could see how excruciating it was for you to talk to me yesterday.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Jimin says, as Yoongi struggles to contain the urge to scream at Seokjin for exposing him one more time. “I’m sorry, Yoongi-hyung. And thank you. I wouldn’t have done it without you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Yoongi mumbles, looking outside the window in order to avoid Jimin’s persistent gaze. “Thank Seokjin-hyung, instead. He’s going to do the most out of us all.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to thank you, Seokjin-hyung,” Jimin says then. “I know you’re doing this for business, but it is still too much for me to think about a way to pay you back later on.”
“Don’t mention it. You are already helping me out by being the worst case I ever dealt with. I always love an omitted variable bias,” Seokjin sassily replies. "But a bottle of vodka and a nice dinner would be great, actually. I haven’t been out for decades and it is starting to show on my skin. I swear I’m not as old as I look.”
Jimin shakes his head, and Yoongi can’t help but agree with him: Seokjin doesn’t look old; he just looks… mature.
“We have a date, then,” Jimin says, but Seokjin shrieks straight away.
“I’m not talking about you, Jimin. Don’t take it personally, you’re just not my type,” Seokjin brutally rejects him. “I’m talking to the caveman sitting next to you. Do we have a plan, Yoongi-ah? What about next Monday? Are you available?”
Yoongi doesn’t reflect over his answer before he opens up his mouth and he replies. “If you insist… I never say no to alcohol.”
“As if you could’ve said no to me! I will keep in contact, Yoongi-ah. Make sure to answer my strictly business calls then,” Seokjin says jokingly. “Now you can rest for a little while, guys. We’re still long way away from the police station.”
At the police station’s mention Jimin quietens down and keels over Yoongi’s lap, settling his head on Yoongi’s legs. He closes his eyes -those gorgeous, shiny eyes- as Yoongi caresses his cheekbones. It may be hard to notice with all the bad things he’d done, but Jimin’s beauty is still there, so rare and so mesmerizing.
Yoongi tries to seize with his gaze each detail of Jimin’s resting face. He memorizes the length of his eyelashes, the angles of his jaw and the soft fuzz under his chin. His hair may be greasy and untamed at the moment, but it still looks soft and it feels nice to pass his fingers through it.
Jimin doesn’t say a word for the rest of the ride to the station. Seokjin has turned the radio on and started whistling a rap tune at some point, but Yoongi has been too busy playing with Jimin’s locks to sing along him to pray his worries away.
He is going to miss him.
He is going to miss Jimin so much.
“We’ve arrived.”
Jimin suddenly raises his head and stands on his elbows, his expression tired and slightly confused. “Is it time?”
“It is, Jimin-ah,” Seokjin responds to him, as he kills off the engine. “When you are ready, I am ready too. Yoongi-ah, you have to wait outside until the agents tell you to come in. You know how a restricted access area works, don’t you?”
Jimin looks up at Yoongi, and Yoongi stares back at him. They don’t have to talk to understand what the other is thinking at the moment: they have to pretend they are ready and just go with the flow.
“We’re in a rush, Seokjin-hyung” Jimin mutters. “We should go, so Yoongi-hyung won’t have to wait too long.”
Yoongi catches Jimin’s silent request in his shuffling voice and opens the door for him. As soon as they get off the car, the police station appears right in front of their eyes, tall and intimidating. Yoongi doesn’t know what the hell is going to happen once he gets inside. He has never had anything to do with justice until now, but at least he is lucky enough to be with someone who knows his way around it.
Seokjin precedes them, climbing the stairs which lead to the station’s entrance first. Jimin follows right after him, his steps confident even though he is perfectly aware that each one of those steps is conducting him to his condemnation. He almost looks proud for having made it there, and Yoongi somehow can see his reason. Jail is still a better, safer place than the one Jimin used to live in. Behind these iron bars Jimin is going to find his freedom, as ironic as it sounds to Yoongi’s ears.
Yoongi stops as soon as he reaches the last step, Jimin just a few meters away from him. Yoongi sees Jimin’s black strands being tousled by the autumn’s cold breeze, his head and shoulders standing high as his legs move swiftly toward the point of no return.
Jimin suddenly turns around and he looks back at Yoongi. “Hyung, you should give me your phone number before we go in,” he suggests him. “So I can contact you once I’m done, yeah?”
Yoongi doesn’t lose any time handing him over his telephone, a ten-digits number already displayed on the screen for Jimin to register on his own agenda.
He shouldn’t regret this.
Yoongi must never regret what he has just done.
It is for the greater good, a sacrifice he must endure, just like Jimin himself is fated to do.
As soon as Jimin gets his so-longed for number, the corners of his mouth go up and expose his crooked teeth.
Jimin’s smile is the brightest star which has ever shined upon Yoongi’s twilight world.
Just before Seokjin knocks on the front door of the police station, Jimin raises his hand and mimes see you later with his mouth, which Yoongi is quick to acknowledge with a brief nod of his head.
There is quietness in their goodbye. There is a subtle, almost imperceptible sense of relief and acceptance in the way they parted from one another tonight.
Yoongi knows they will find their way back to each other someday, somehow. But right here, right now it is time for him to let go of Jimin and escort him to his temporary damnation.
See you later, Jimin just told him.
Yeah, sure.
They will see each other later, or even tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow.
Or maybe never.
Maybe they will never see each other again, and that is fine by Yoongi.
He deserves this rest.
He deserves to be left alone over and over again.
He is going to be fine from now on.
And Jimin will be too, eventually.
Time will heal them both, they just need to patience a little more.
Like they always do.
>> Yoongi-hyung? I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but I need to ask you something…
You never bother me Namjoon-ah<<
What’s the matter?<<
>> I think you gave Jimin the wrong number yesterday night… He texted me a few minutes ago thinking he was talking to you. He just got his phone back and he started looking for you as soon as he could. Should I give him the right number?
I’m not that stupid<<
I knew it was your number, I did it on purpose<<
>> But why? Jimin wanted your contact, not mine
Can I ask you a favor, Namjoon-ah?<<
Just don’t make any questions, okay?<<
>> Sure?
Take care of him for me<<
And don’t ever give him my number nor my address<<
>> Taking care of Jimin? Yeah, I can do that but… Why? Isn’t he your friend? You went through some major shit for him, so why are you refusing to talk to him now?
>> Hyung?
>> Hyung, are you still there?
>> Well, okay then
>> I will take care of him, hyung
>> I promise you.
>> Hyung, Jimin is fine. I’ve paid both his fine and his annual Academy’s fees. He didn’t get kicked out, luckily enough. Everything is alright now. He’s just a little sad ‘cause you won’t reply to him. What does it cost you calling him once in a while? He’s heartbroken. Please, reach out for him asap. He’s waiting for you
>> Hyung, I’m sorry for the sudden visit earlier. I just wanted to make sure you were informed about Jimin’s status, since you have been avoiding us all for months. He’s really doing okay, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. I’ve got him under my wings. He still misses you, but he’s dealing with his yearning just fine. I hope you will return to us one day. We know your job doesn’t allow you to go out as much as you used to do in the past, but we’re longing for your company. You can come at my place anytime. My doors are always open for you
>> Yoongi-hyung, I’m taking Jimin out tonight. I’m still not sure why the two of you don’t talk anymore, but if you want me to stop all of this, I’m going to end things with Jimin right now. You only have to say a word. Give me a hint, hyung. I’m begging you. I’m struggling over here all by myself
>> The date was awesome, Yoongi-hyung. I think I kinda like Jimin. I totally see the reason why you were so obsessed with him not long ago
>> Ehy, hyung… I know it has been a while, but I’ve been busy and I didn’t want to annoy you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disappear. I just wanted to tell you I’m getting married next year. Jimin said yes, and I still can’t believe it. He’s so beautiful, hyung. He’s the smartest man I ever dealt with. I don’t care about what the people say about our relationship, I just want to make him happy
>> I want to make him happy, because he looks so sad all the time
>> Why did you let him go?
Congrats on your engagement, my man<<
I will make sure to be there for you on that day<<
>> Thank you, hyung. I appreciate that
>> Are you sure you’re okay though?
I never felt better, Namjoon-ah<<
Never felt better<<
Many years quickly passed by since Yoongi and Jimin exchanged their last goodbye in front of the police station’s entrance. They haven’t spoke to each other from then on. Nine years, not a single sign of life coming from both ends. Silence so noisy, it almost turned Yoongi misophonic to any other kind of sound over time.
A leaf fell from the tree on which Yoongi has hung up all his dreams and hopes each time he tried to restore his broken connection with Jimin and failed miserably.
Soon enough, too soon for Yoongi to fully realize, autumn became winter, winter grew into spring, spring melted into summer and summer disembogued into autumn again. Yoongi lost his heart and his sanity somewhere among that ever-ceasing cycle and he has never found them again. His mind hasn’t recovered from the trauma he had suffered yet and his wounds are still bleeding from time to time.
Yoongi quietly followed Jimin’s process via his old cabled television. He doesn’t even remember the bastard’s name -Lee Seung-something, if he recalls rather well-, but the reminiscence of the day he was arrested is stuck in his brain and he is pretty damn sure he will never forget the pure joy he experienced when he toasted with Seokjin to their triumph, cheap wine filling their cups as they jumped all around Yoongi’s tiny apartment in excitement.
Jimin’s image hasn’t left the screens since then. His dancing career took off and reached unbelievable heights as time went by: tv programs, shows, several appearances as a backup dancer for various great artists with whom he took part of a number of international tours too.
When his relationship with the young and handsome CEO Kim Namjoon became known by the public, Jimin’s life turned upside down. Everyone has heard Jimin’s name at least once during the past few years. Kim-Park Jimin, Kim Namjoon’s soon-to-be husband, a dancing star and a victim of a town’s scandal dated back to almost ten years ago.
No one actually cares about what Jimin had done before he became a treasured public figure. Sure, some paparazzis and a few journals starving for attentions tried to disassemble Jimin’s perfect façade by bringing up the fact he used to be a pusher, but Jimin never yield to their provocations and Namjoon protected his privacy in the best possible way: by paying those journals off-book so they wouldn’t put Jimin’s reputation in danger with their slanders.
What more can Yoongi say, Namjoon has always been an intelligent motherfucker and Jimin has always been an unbothered king, a polished scepter by his right side and a sparkling crown on his pretty head.
Namjoon treats Jimin as the royalty he is, spoiling him with his riches and making sure his precious one never leaves home if he isn’t wearing the finest outfits or if he isn’t escorted around by his bodyguards.
The most enviable diamond of them all, Jimin himself.
Namjoon managed to conquer Jimin’s splendor with his assiduous dedication and his hard work. Yoongi is pretty sure Namjoon didn’t have it easy with Jimin at the beginning, but what matters is that he won him over in the end. Quitters are no winners, and unfortunately for Yoongi, Namjoon is used to always triumph in his life by now.
They are getting married.
Jimin told him yes.
Jimin accepted Namjoon’s proposal and they are getting married next year.
Namjoon succeeded where Yoongi pathetically misfired.
It’s not like Yoongi didn’t try hard enough. The point is, he didn’t even try in the first place. He willingly gave in his place in Jimin’s life to Namjoon. He personally handed Jimin over Namjoon’s number that day, therefore he has no rights to feel bitter after a love which has gone wrong.
No regrets.
He promised himself he wouldn’t have any regrets for his decision.
Thanks to his sacrifice, Jimin is at the top of the world right now; he is enjoying the business life, or whatever they call it.
It must be tiring, the business life. Having to travel day in and day out, pose for the cameras and seamlessly incarnate the ideal which people have about rich men and their lifestyle.
Yoongi wonders if Jimin is actually coping well with his popularity. He strongly believes that Jimin’s tiny shoulders are not made to carry the weight of the burden which comes with all those money. Jimin was born to perform on big stages and show off his model-like face, but at the end of the day he is just Jimin. Simply, uniquely Jimin. He is still the man who dances barefoot on rooftops and who steals all the sheets during the night. He is still the nicotine and cherries addicted Yoongi met in a skating rink. He is still the man who loves deep-felt kisses and intense sex.
Namjoon…
Is he really able to give Jimin what he needs, apart from high-fashion clothes and television’s callouts?
Yoongi shakes his head: he mustn’t ask himself such binding questions. There is no point, after all. His personal thoughts aren’t going to change the fact that Jimin and Namjoon are getting married next year.
His ideas can’t reverse the sun, nor alter the course of a river.
It’s fate, and fate is supposed to be accepted passively.
Yoongi looks out of the window, a cigarette resistlessly burning out between his chapped lips.
Orange.
The leaves fallen on the ground, the lazy dawn and the tepid sunshines- Everything is bathed in orange when Yoongi settles his gaze on the magnificent view before his eyes, his spent garden, its dead foliage.
And it’s autumn again.
Yoongi sees blue.
All around him it’s blue smoke.
Yoongi is well aware of the fact that this thick blue smoke is nothing but the product of the mercury circulating in his blood. He has no longer tears to shed, so he let his anger boil the remaining of his remorses and he made them evaporate.
It is dangerous, but he doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care whether flowers wither or people die at his passage. He doesn’t bear the responsibility of anyone nor anything here. It is bad enough he decided to show up at that stupidly joyful event today.
All around him it’s blue suits, blue dresses and blue bouquets.
Men and women alike are wearing the same shade of ultramarine blue, perfectly in tone with path of petals leading to the makeshift altar in the middle of the venue.
Yoongi fucking hates cold colors. They make him feel cold too.
Jimin and Namjoon had made a terrible choice about those nuances. What is the point of using such a sad color during their supposedly happiest day of their lives?
Yoongi can’t help but grunt to himself: as if the color theme is the worst decision Jimin and Namjoon had ever made together in the first place.
Yoongi wanders around the venue as he looks for his friends. There aren’t many chairs aligned in front of the altar and the arch; there are just about a dozen of rows interspersed by gravel and wedding pillars scattered all across the garden. A white piano is glimmering brightly under the blinding sunshines of the midday, however there are no musicians in sight. Then again, an impressive number of photographers and cameramen are adjusting their equipments and their locations while they wait for the arrival of the first guests.
Brunch has already been served a few hours ago, and Yoongi doesn’t dare imagining how much did the catering cost per person. He only took a glass of champagne to tame the fire in his gullet, but on second thought he regrets not trying out the tasty looking pastries which had adorned the tables as long as they haven’t been totally swept away by the other guests.
He is starving, and the ceremony hasn’t started yet.
Today is going to be a hell of a long day.
“Oh, there you are!”
The sudden yelp coming from behind his back startles Yoongi, forcing him to turn around and face his party pooper.
“We were looking for you, hyung!”
Yoongi squints his eyes and he finally sees them, his beloved party poopers.
Hoseok and Jungkook are striding toward him at a brisk pace, their smiling faces lighting up a glimpse of happiness inside Yoongi’s fidgety heart. Just looking at them is making him feel better already. That’s friendship’s power, or whatever. If he hadn’t believed in it in the past, now he totally does.
His friends mean everything to him. He wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for them.
Both Hoseok and Jungkook are wearing blue ties and little blooming periwinkles in the upper pockets of their jackets, but at least their suits’ color scheme is total white. Yoongi was starting to feel uncomfortable standing in that blue ocean all alone; an uncomfortable, red man swimming in a boundless and shallow coastal sea.
His friends looks like princes and he looks like a villain. That much for fully adapting to his character’s role.
“Namjoon was sure you were going to join our gathering at his house before the ceremony, so we waited for you all morning long, but in the end you didn’t show up.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Not cool man. You broke our hearts.”
“Yeah, Seokjin-hyung even started crying at some point,” Jungkook adds up, and Yoongi can’t help but frown at such an unexpected statement.
“Why did he cry?” he asks them, rightfully so. “Is he okay?”
“I think I unconsciously hurt his pride,” Jungkook replies, shrugging off Yoongi’s worries. “We were playing video games to help Namjoon-hyung blow off some steam, but Seokjin’s head was so into the match, he got mad when he realized I defeated him.”
“What he is trying to say is that his competitive ass ate Seokjin-hyung’s honor and Seokjin-hyung didn’t particularly enjoy it,” Hoseok wraps up in a sentence. “Pretty pathetic, if you ask me.”
“So you’re basically telling me Seokjin cried because he lost a video game’s match against Jungkook? A few hours before the ceremony? A ceremony which he is leading, above all?” Yoongi blinks, disappointed but not actually surprised by Seokjin’s antics. “God, and I even believed for a second he was just getting emotional because of the wedding itself. That hyung’s pettiness knows no limits.”
Hoseok and Jungkook laugh as Yoongi suddenly gets distracted by the noise of loud, heavy steps getting closer and closer to them. As soon as he turns his head, he notices Taehyung walking toward them, a big ass blue bouquet between his slender hands and his white attire looking amazing on his slim figure. If only half of his body weren’t covered by those damn flowers, Yoongi would have appreciated his sensational catwalk.
“Guys, I swear to God I’m killing Jimin right now,” are Taehyung’s first words, and at his friends’ questioning looks he responds: “He is fucking crazy, I’m telling you. While I was fixing his tie just five minutes ago he started yelling about not wanting to get married anymore. Can you believe it? He even called a cab and all, guys. He was seriously about to escape. If I hadn’t been there, I’m sure he would have run away for real.”
“Typical of him,” Hoseok dismissively comments. “Our Jimin always tries to get away from bothersome situations last minute.”
Yoongi bites his nails hard, bleeding cuticles matching his vermillion jacket. “He is alright now, isn’t he?”
“Pretty much, I guess,” Taehyung replies, sighing his worries off. “He gave me a heart attack right there, hyung. I was about to freak out and call you for support.”
“Me?” Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. “If it were up to me, I would have helped him escaping.”
“What a terrible friend you are, hyung,” Hoseok scolds him. “Remind me to not invite you to my wedding.”
“Bold of you to assume you are ever going to get married, Hoseok.”
“That’s it! I am so done with you, hyung! We aren’t friends anymore!”
Jungkook interrupts them by harshly waving his hand in their faces in order to catch Taehyung’s attention. “Jokes aside, do you know by chance when are they going to walk down the aisle? It’s already twelve in the morning, the ceremony was supposed to start half an hour ago.”
“Jimin is waiting for Namjoon in the back of the venue,” Taehyung answers straight away. “I’m not sure about what’s keeping him, but it must be important. Namjoon is never late.”
Jungkook places a hand on his chest and breathes in a gulp of fresh air to tame his nerves. “I’m afraid something bad is going to happen. What if Jimin-ssi truly refuses to marry Namjoon-ssi today? What do we do in that case?”
“They will get married.”
Yoongi gasps as a cold hand touches his back, chills spreading all across his spine.
Fucking Seokjin, popping out of nowhere every damn time.
“I’m sure everything is going to be just fine,” he keeps saying. “During the rehearsal they looked like they knew what they were doing. We just have to wait for them and cheer them up as soon as they-”
Claps.
All the guests who already took their chairs in front of the altar abruptly stand up and start clapping at the same time, whereas the photographers are running to pick up their cameras and point them at the two men who finally decided to appear before the aisle.
Namjoon and Jimin.
They look plain incredible.
Namjoon is also wearing a white suit, but he completely stands out against the sky with his daring fedora hat and his tailored baggy pants. His face is glowing, happy dimples adorning the corners of his huge smile. He waves at his friends first, then he poses for the cameras, his posture amiable and upright.
Jimin looks extra small next to him, even though he is wearing heeled ankle boots and his high-waisted trousers make justice to his slender legs.
Black.
Jimin is wearing black from head to toe on the day of his wedding. Even his pink hair are gone. He must have dyed them just to match the rest of his attire. It wouldn’t have been that weird if the whole colors' theme hadn’t revolved around pastel blue and white hues, but it does.
It does look weird.
Why would Jimin intentionally make himself look weird on his wedding’s day?
Yoongi doesn’t have the time to question Jimin’s motives further. Namjoon has just wrapped his arm around Jimin’s waist and he gently pushed him forward, emitting a clear signal: they are ready to walk down the aisle and launch the ceremony.
It’s about time.
“Hyung? Ehy, hyung! Hear me out!” Jungkook distracts Yoongi by persistently tapping a finger on his shoulder, his tone reduced to a mere whisper. As soon as Yoongi turns in his direction, Jungkook points his index at the untouched piano standing next to the altar, where Seokjin is. “I don’t know what is going on, but apparently no one is going to play it. Maybe Namjoon-ssi and Jimin-ssi forgot to hire a musician, but they can’t just walk all the way to the altar without a wedding march playing in the background. Is there something you can do about it? You can play the piano, don’t you?”
Yoongi gazes up at Namjoon and Jimin, who haven’t begun making their way down the corridor yet, then he settles his eyes on the white piano next to Seokjin. His fingers are itching, begging him to touch those beautiful black keys already.
Sure.
Sure, he can and he will play that damn piano.
He is going to play the best wedding march just for his best friend and the biggest love of his ironic life.
“I’m going to do it,” he announces, and Jungkook immediately claps at his swift decision.
Jungkook turns around to spread the good news to Hoseok and Taehyung, whereas Yoongi doesn’t lose any time preceding Jimin and Namjoon down the aisle and striding toward the piano waiting for him at the end of the corridor.
As soon as he is standing before those beautiful ivory keys, his eyes tear up.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He isn’t supposed to pull off a swan-song on such a happy day. But he has to. It is the only gift he could afford to give to Namjoon and Jimin after all. A magnificent wedding march played by Min Yoongi himself.
Min Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin’s best friend.
Min Yoongi, who is like a older brother to his close friends.
Min Yoongi, always the best man and never the groom.
Jimin is about to tie a knot with his tongue he cannot undo with his teeth. Yoongi can’t help him anymore. He tried his best, but Jimin refused to acknowledge his efforts. Jimin paid off his ever-increasing desires at Yoongi’s sanity expense as long as he needed his support, but now he doesn’t want him no more.
How couldn’t Yoongi see it?
Their friendship has been solely based on advantages all along. Yoongi wanted to get rid of those convenience’s limits, he wanted to create an absolute union between himself and Jimin so there wouldn’t have been be any distances among the two of them.
But he failed.
He failed in convincing Jimin that his intentions were pure.
If only Yoongi hadn’t let his passion take over his mind, if only he hadn’t let it corrupt and infect his reason, maybe he wouldn’t feel so damn sick today.
Yoongi truly loved Jimin. He still does, but it is too late now. He must let his love die along the notes he is about to play. He must let it die and free himself from Jimin’s spell once for all. He must let it die and eliminate every thoughts which doesn’t concern music right now.
It is not like is going to be that difficult: there is nothing but music inside Yoongi’s mind all the goddamn time. Yoongi’s ambition is going to be his soul’s scourge, but at least he is satisfied with his own good deed. At least, he repeats to himself, music will never leave him alone, unlike people.
A person, a person like Jimin, comes and goes like seasons. There is no need for Yoongi to run after relationships. They are also embedded in the ever-ending cycle of life. He can stand right there, he doesn’t have to move one inch from his spot and spare himself the effort.
It will come back to him by itself, eventually.
Love will come again at the right pace, or maybe when he least expects it to arrive, just like how it happened with Jimin.
He just needs to patience a little longer.
Ten years more, ten years less… It doesn’t make any difference to him now.
Yoongi finally sits in front of the piano, and from that moment on he turns his back to the world and blanks out. In that instant he is alone with his music. He has got the stronger power in his hold, he can play off his sadness to his heart’s content.
He presses the first key.
Blue.
The notes he is playing are so blue, it is just impossible to not notice how damn depressing his wedding march is. And yet, people are clapping along the melody, photographers are snapping pictures and Seokjin is still waiting for Namjoon and Jimin to present themselves in front of him.
Black ink is dripping from Yoongi’s eyes down the music sheet placed on the lectern above the board, tarnishing the ivory keys.
He plays.
He keeps playing in order to suppress Seokjin’s voice. He doesn’t want to hear him. He doesn’t want to hear any of the words he is going to say. He gazes down at the keys, his fingers dancing on them like if they were made just for it.
Jimin would have loved this song, but he must be too busy getting married to pay him any attention at all.
Ah, that’s just too bad.
That’s just so blue.
Somewhere among the incipit and Seokjin’s final speech, Yoongi lost himself in music. He managed to ignore the whole ceremony, deaf to every sound which escaped his bubble-field. He wouldn’t have stopped until the very end, if Taehyung hadn’t approached him and told him to refrain himself from playing while Namjoon and Jimin pronounced their vows.
Here they are.
It is finally time.
Yoongi can definitely rest after this. He can’t wait to get over it and go back home already.
Come on, he’d say if only he weren’t such a great guest. Come on, spear my soul.
Fucking do it.
Seokjin clears his throat as he moves his mouth closer to the microphone standing on the altar. “Park Jimin,” he says, as Yoongi’s heart starts beating against his ribcage so violently, he is almost afraid of having a seizure right now. “Will you have this man to be your husband, to live together in holy marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”
Jimin doesn’t say his vow right away. He looks around him, his pupils faltering and his smile so fake, it looks disgusting. When he turns to face Yoongi, the corners of his lips drop. He mutters something which Yoongi’s ears can’t decipher from the place where he is standing, but he looks away as soon as a photographer snaps a photo in his face at that very moment.
“I do.”
He does.
“I do,” Jimin repeats louder and clearer than before. “I do.”
And this is how it ends.
Yoongi would lie if he said he hadn’t kept faith to the last.
What was he even thinking?
Of course Jimin was going to say yes.
Of course he was.
“Kim Namjoon, will you have this man to be your husband, to live together in holy marriage?”
And now Yoongi is the one who is going to pay the piper.
“Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”
Noises.
Buzzing sounds, turmoil, hellish screams.
Inside his head, it’s a pandemonium.
Yoongi has never heard such a dreadful sound before. Isn’t a swan-song supposed to be the most melodious harmony of them all?
Why does this song sound like a fucking requiem?
“I don’t.”
I…
Don’t?
“I don’t want to marry Park Jimin.”
What?
Yoongi raises his head from the keyboard, and as soon as he gazes up, Taehyung is right there, sitting next to him, his eyes open wide and his mouth miming a silent scream. Jungkook and Hoseok aren’t very far away from them, seated in the front row just to fully enjoy that shoddily run show.
“N-Namjoon? What are you saying?” Seokjin adjusts his glasses with a flick of his wrist, his expression panicked just like the rest of the guests’. “Have you… Have you just refused to take Jimin’s hand in marriage?”
“Yes, I did.” Namjoon is standing tall in front of the altar, smiling brightly at Seokjin as if he hadn’t just let hell break loose. “I won’t marry Park Jimin. Take note.”
“But why?” Seokjin asks him. “Why now? Why won’t you marry him anymore?”
“Why?” Namjoon grins, then he turns to Yoongi.
Cold.
The coldest gaze which has ever crossed Yoongi’s.
Namjoon, his best friend, just killed him with that freezing glance.
“Ask the pianist,” he says. “Ask him why did he allow my husband to cheat on me the night before our wedding.”
Gasps and cries, people snapping pictures and taking videos of his stupidly dumbfounded expression.
“Ask him the reason why he tried to take him away from me.”
Yoongi grits his teeth and bites his tongue, forcing himself to stay quiet as Namjoon whips him over and over again.
“Ask him,” Namjoon says. “Ask him if he is still in love with my supposed-to-be husband. You already know what he is going to tell you. He will say he never stopped loving him.”
“Namjoon-ah!” Seokjin screams at him, forcing him to turn his face in his direction. “Why are you doing this to Yoongi?”
“Why? Isn’t it obvious?”
Aim.
“Revenge‘s a cold bitch.”
And shoot.
Namjoon never, never misfires.
Unluckily for Yoongi, Namjoon is a fucking winner gifted with the skills of a goddamn sniper.
“Hyung!”
God, he wished he could punch him.
“Hyung, please!”
He wished he could literally fight Namjoon and bring his empire down.
“Hyung, you have to go away!”
Yoongi’s vision gets suddenly obscured by Jungkook’s jacket. Jungkook just covered his face with his own jacket as Taehyung took him by his arm and hauled him away from the venue. He can’t see nor hear what is going on around him, but he can clearly feel Jimin’s fingers touching the back of his hand.
He lets him wrap his hand around his, and as soon as they are reunited, Yoongi runs.
They fucking run outside the venue, far, far away from Namjoon and his chaotic caper.
Yoongi still doesn’t understand what the hell is going on, but Taehyung and Jungkook keep pushing both him and Jimin forward.
A cab.
As soon as they exit the venue, they find a cab waiting for them in front of the entrance.
What the-
“Come on, hyung! Jimin-ssi! Jump in!” Jungkook opens up the cab’s door for them, and Jimin doesn’t make him repeat himself twice.
Yoongi stands frozen facing the cab until Taehyung takes him from his wrist again and shoves him inside. “You have to go, now!” he tells him. “God, paparazzis are going to come for your ass if you don’t go away in this very moment. Fucking disappear for a while, hyung. That’s what you’re best at, isn’t it?”
Rude.
Rude, but true.
“Where are we supposed to go?” Jimin asks. “What are we supposed to do?”
“We will think about it later on,” Jungkook quickly answers him as he closes the door. “Now vanish. We will catch up once we get to talk to Namjoon.”
“Goodbye, hyung,” are Taehyung’s last words. “Good luck.”
And just like that, Yoongi and Jimin are off to the biggest unknown.
The cab’s driver looks as shocked as they are, but Yoongi somehow recognizes his face.
Yeah, he is definitely bug face.
He is the same driver which he saw covered in eyes the day Jimin got him high on lsd.
Fate.
It is always fate.
“Hyung?” Jimin touches his shoulder, calling out for him with shortness of breath. “Hyung, I- I had no idea all of this was going to happen. Namjoon was acting weird before we entered the venue, but I could have never- I couldn’t imagine such a thing. I- I don’t know… I’m so confused.”
“Same here, peachy,” Yoongi tells him. “Same here.”
Jimin sighs as he snaps his fingers to get the driver’s focus on him. He tells him to escort them to Yoongi’s apartment, and the driver nods. Their ride to Yoongi’s apartment is filled with tension and silent exchanges of gazes. At some point Seokjin texted them both to make sure neither of them are hurt or in danger, then he suggested them to ignore all their social medias’ accounts and the news.
They are isolated.
As soon as they step over Yoongi’s porch, they are isolated.
All by themselves.
Alone, but together.
Jimin doesn’t say a word until Yoongi invites him to take a nap on his couch. When Jimin’s head hits the armrest, he finally breathes.
“So…” he mutters. “Namjoon bombed our wedding.”
“He did,” Yoongi says. “And in grand style too.”
“I can’t fucking believe this.”
“Me neither.”
They stare at each other in silence for a little while, then Yoongi makes a turn for the kitchen and looks for the packs of cigarettes he hides inside the drawers for emergencies.
This right here can surely be classified as an emergency.
Jimin accepts the cigarette which Yoongi is offering him and lets him light it up in his stead. They take their first drags at the same time, smoke filling their lungs and calming them down.
“I didn’t get married,” Jimin keeps repeating to himself. “I didn’t get married.”
“You didn’t,” Yoongi assures him. “And I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Hyung-”
“You and Namjoon weren’t meant to be.”
“I know we weren’t,” Jimin says. “But I- I tried. I had to try.”
“I understand, Jimin.” Yoongi takes a long drag off his cigarette, he extinguishes it a few drags later, then he immediately lights up another filter. “I understand and I forgive you. Let’s not talk about this anymore.”
Jimin couldn’t agree more with him.
They keep smoking in silence, burning out cigarette after cigarette.
And Yoongi can’t help but think, this is heaven.
This is how heaven looks like, and it looks like Jimin resting his tired body on his couch and smoking his tears away.
“Hyung?”
“Mh?”
“Hyung, is your proposal still valid?”
“Which one?”
“The elope one,” Jimin tells him. “Should we run away and elope?”
Yoongi flicks his wrist, letting his cigarette’s ashes stain his parquet.
Say yes, Yoongi tells himself.
Say yes to a chance of peace, Yoongi.
Say yes to Jimin.
“Let’s elope, peachy.”
Yes.
“Let’s elope tonight.”
Jimin smiles, and in that silent smile, Yoongi can hear all his blissfulness.
They take their feast back to Yoongi’s room, curtains closed and dampers shoved all the way down the windowsill.
Yoongi takes his sweet time undressing Jimin, peeling him out of his perfect façade. Gone are his buttoned shirt and his black jacket; gone are his ankle boots; gone are his tears and his worries.
Today Jimin is Yoongi’s, and Yoongi is Jimin’s.
Just like it was supposed to be since the start.
Jimin kisses him like if they were to die tonight. He cries in ecstasy as Yoongi thrusts into him, his nail dug deep in his shoulders. He bites his neck, he desperately clings to him as they descends from the seventh sky.
They whisper their vows to each other’s ears, naked bodies mingled together in an asphyxiating union.
Yoongi isn’t going to let go of Jimin’s hand ever again.
And he will make sure Jimin doesn’t let go of him either.
This time, they will make their little while last forever.
On the windowsill, among the dusty ashes and fallen leaves, three spent cigarettes are lying inside an ashtray.