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Dull grey light washed the streets in a weird, ethereal glow. Dampness soaked without care, wetting the edges of metal signs and dripping off to splash the stained concrete. Cars crawled down the faded streets, headlights glinting off water-crusted windows. People walked with heads down through their fractured worlds. And the Metropolis breathed, humming with the energy of its captive souls, living as realities parted and bended around it. The Metropolis went by another name: the Forever City, for it was endless. Google maps might have stated otherwise, but with a collective consciousness, the inhabitants of its shining, smoking, shattered streets believed that there was no end. And for them, there might as well not have been.Jimin had not always lived in the city, he could recall brief flashes of other memories sometimes. Tall grasses waving gently against his knees, the green spreading endlessly out into the distance. Black pebbled beaches littered with jade. Playing in pine needles, and digging out little holes at the bases of trees among the roots to fit toys into. But then the family had moved.Jimin walked with the crowd, head down, eyes glued to his phone. Bass pounded in his headphones making his ears sob for mercy, but he wanted the pain, wanted to feel his heart rate soar for any other reason than the hopelessness dragging its chilling tendrils against his mind. For his bank account stared up at him, a solid $53 in his checking account and a $148 in his savings. There was no way he’d make it this month, not after quitting his recent secretary job. Only so much harassment was he willing to put up with. He’d thought he could just grit he teeth as his boss copped a feel with increasing regularity but it didn’t stop there, the groping only got worse, reaching a breaking point when meaty hands pressed grease stains into the front of his pants, rubbing in. And that was it: Jimin would not subject himself to that kind of treatment anymore after that. He’d pushed the man’s hand away and excused himself. Packed his things and turned in his resignation that very day. He knew what it looked like, like he was running away, that maybe he should have stayed and pushed through it—stood up to his boss and seen it through, but his self respect had grown in the last few months and he valued himself too much to deal with that bullshit abuse. He had a friend online to thank for that. Through the gentle, caring, support of username: captUred_MEmory he’d grown a lot in the last few months. He still had screenshots of their chat when username: captUred_MEmory had asked him: Do you know what learned helplessness is? Or cognitive dissonance? Jimin had not known, so his friend went on to give explanation after explanation, things like the dog and the electric floor, and the people who were paid to lie that the boring task of turning blocks was interesting, until Jimin finally understood the concepts with vivid clarity. That had been part of what helped him grow, he was able to finally realize what parts of his life were lacking and that he didn’t have to put up with them, that he could change them. Over the past few months, captUred_MEmory had slowly set him free. And not by telling him what was wrong with his life, no, it was by giving Jimin tools and then letting him figure it out for himself. It was more than Jimin’s own therapist had ever been able to accomplish with him, so he’d had cause to briefly wonder what that said about the world and its systems. Jimin could not be more grateful to captUred_MEmory, such a sweet and generous person. He wanted to meet them in person but there hadn’t been a chance yet. By his own volition, Jimin had ended the relationship with his manipulative boyfriend, and now his toxic job. However, he began to realize that life shifts needed to be planned out a little more than perhaps what he had done, and now he was stuck, hovering somewhere between coherency and mindless panic. Because although he was only a week into the month and had paid last month's rent, getting a job took time and getting a paycheck would take even longer. He felt keyed up and reckless. What the fuck was he gonna do? This was actually a problem.He stopped walking, turned off his music, and pulled his headphones down to hang around his neck. He stared around, swallowing deep gulps of the misty air as he took in his surroundings seriously for the first time. The sidewalks were cracked and littered with surface puddles that shown red from the traffic lights at the end of the block. This part of the Sun district wasn’t far from the main strip, but it was a more intimate street, lined with seedy clubs and cheap restaurants that sold steaming, deliciously greasy food. Jimin had been heading away from the business sector towards his apartment complex deeper in. He needed to change before going to practice with his dance troupe. It was the only thing that kept him sane. The only good thing in his life that made him look forward, kept him waking up to new days and hoping for a better future—something better than the drudgery he was living now—far away from this poor excuse for an existence. His dance troup made everything worth it. As he leaned against the oozing wall, he pulled out his phone and checked his texts. There was a new message from his best friend and fellow troupe member Taemin.Hey can’t wait to see you today! :3 I heard that cap is changing up some of the choreo, are you excited?? Jimin smiled down at his phone, Taemin loved dancing, he lived and breathed it just like Jimin. It was how the two had become such good friends so quickly. Another text came in just as Jimin was about to lock the screen and continue walking back to his apartment.
Have you seen that gray silk scarf I wore to practice yesterday? I can’t find it anywhere and the last place I remember having it was the studio
Jimin grinned, Taemin was always losing things. With a shake of his head, he texted back that he hadn’t seen it. He closed his phone and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands, internally screaming. The anxiety was back the second his attention wasn’t occupied anymore, and it threatened to close over his head, suffocating him in darkness. He resisted, pushing off the wall with a sigh, and walking off down the street again. Jimin showed up at the dance studio an hour early—he had nowhere to be now that he’d quit his job, and sitting alone in his dim apartment was not something he liked the idea of doing. It gave his anxiety too ripe an opportunity to eat him alive, to really rub it in his face that as humble as his living conditions were now, they were only going to get so much worse. The studio was on the eighth floor of an industrial building that housed a department store in the front, facing the street, all gleaming glass and dimmed fluorescent lighting. There was a massive storage space shared with a small scale parking garage in the back. To get to the eighth floor, Jimin had to enter through a nondescript steel door in the ally and traverse a tight hallway that spanned the entire building. At the end of the hallway, the flights of stairs began. Eight flights of stairs to be exact.The members of his dance troupe liked to joke that the only warm-up they needed before practice was to walk up every flight of those stairs. It was a joke, but really, in all seriousness- it was a pretty thorough warm up. Really got the blood pumping and the muscles working.Breath hot in his throat and muscles screaming from their overuse last practice, he emerged onto the eighth floor out of the dim stairwell, pulling out his earbuds. He checked to see if their studio was locked. It wasn’t, even though he’d come so early. Breathing a sigh of relief, he entered the wide room, contentment filling him as the familiar surroundings enveloped him. The space the troupe occupied was technically on the roof, a building built at the very top surrounded by railinged off rooftop. In this particular practice room, large glass windows opened on a view of the city, with large curtains that could be pulled over the windows to obscure distractions. At the moment, the curtains were drawn aside into each corner of the room, affording a breathtaking, panoramic view of the city skyline. The room was empty and filled with muted light from the overcast sky. Jimin dropped his bag in one of the corners and crossed the wooden floor to the barre, breathing in the familiar mint and lavender scent of air freshener as coolness stroked his face, seeping in from the glass. He felt the stress tension slowly draining from his body as he began moving through his warm ups, liquid grace and sureness. He fell into it, letting himself become completely absorbed in his body's movements, eyes closed, captured in his own little world full of soft light and flowing gestures. Time stretched, and his aching muscles had stopped bothering him a while ago. He started dancing through a choreography he’d been working on on his own. It was a more sensual and expressive thing than the hiphop the troupe usually covered—his contemporary training background really bleeding through into his form. He was lost to it, body immersed in a silent rhythm. Then he heard an almost inaudible sound over the slap of his own shoes hitting the hardwood floor. It was someone else breathing, or more specifically, someone else catching their breath. Yanked from his head space, Jimin whirled around to find Hoseok, his dance captain sitting comfortably on the floor, watching him with glinting eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. Jimin felt his whole body flush, a wave of tingles rushing through him as he realized Hoseok had been watching him.“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please don’t mind me. Continue. ” Jimin bit his lip, face uncomfortably hot. In the silence that followed he debated whether or not he could risk refusing, maybe just waving it off and acting surprised, but the dance captain’s eyes bore into his own, scorching him with their intensity and he could not find within himself a single fiber that could resist that order. He gasped for air, suddenly lightheaded at the thought of dancing for Hoseok. Because that was literally what his captain was asking of him. Another wave of tingles washed through his body and settled at the base of his spine as he began moving again, obeying. He knew how self conscious he probably looked, and he tried to loosen himself, to dance and just let the moves take him over again but he couldn’t quite do it, not with the knowledge that Hoseok was watching him, attention fully trained on just him. Him alone. He’d never been alone with his dance captain before, had only ever interacted with him in a group setting and on a surface level. Hoseok wasn’t even there most of the time—Jimin couldn’t even clearly recall the last time he’d seen him at practice. But Jimin couldn’t deny his attraction to him. Deep attraction, for Hoseok was hot, deadly so, in a slick, dark kind of way that appealed to Jimin on levels he’d rather not explore too fully. He felt helpless, trapped under Hoseok’s heavy gaze as his body faithfully followed his own choreography. Exposed and undressed by Hoseok's eyes, he was vulnerable, laid out for Hoseok and Hoseok alone. And he liked it, damn he liked it, it felt so good. Shedding his self doubts, he threw himself into his movements, exaggerating the sway of his hips and his shoulders, seducing with his gaze. Hoseok's eyes were dark, watching him so intently, bottom lip still trapped between his teeth. Jimin could almost feel that gaze as a tangible thing, caressing hotly over his skin. Dancing for Hoseok—displaying himself like that for him was humiliating and thrilling all at once. And he needed to stop before the tent in his pants grew too noticeable. There didn’t seem to be any oxygen left in the room as he drew the choreography to a close, only silence and his heaving breaths tearing through the space between them. “You’re incredibly good.” Hoseok's voice was low and soft in that moment, “I didn’t know you could dance like that.”Though it didn’t seem possible, Jimin’s cheeks blushed even hotter. He couldn't respond, couldn’t think, the silk of Hoseok’s voice having rendered him speechless—flushing through his systems and leaving them blank. He squirmed under Hoseok’s calculating, unrelenting gaze; like a butterfly caught in a gossamer web, prey already captured and about to be had. Then suddenly a gentle chime of piano music sounded from Hoseok's phone, breaking through the trance. Jimin was released from being spellbound as Hoseok looked away, glancing down at his phone, and tapping around to turn off the alarm. He rose from his place on the floor,“Twenty minutes till practice starts. You’re all warmed up.” Hoseok smirked, “I need to go get a few more things ready, here–” He reached out and handed Jimin an ice cold water bottle, “Thank you for the dance, Jimin.” He turned and left. Jimin sank to his knees on the floor, clutching the water bottle tightly between his fists. Condensation ran over his hands, mixing with his sweat.
Fuck.
He pressed the icy bottle against his flaming cheeks, heartbeat racing as he tried to swallow down his embarrassment. He had danced for Hoseok, he had danced for Hoseok, he had danced for Hoseok–not danced in front of him but for him!
Fuuuuck
He rolled the water bottle over his cheeks, breathing slowly, trying to calm his rapidly pounding heart. And his dick. He needed to calm that down too, somehow. With a wave of shame he realized he was fully hard now, hard from having those eyes on him, from feeling the weight of that gaze intently following his every move. He’d danced for Hoseok so—so erotically, so intimately. He shivered. And choked on his own spit. Fumbling desperately for the cap of the water bottle, he twisted it off, bringing the rim to his lips and sucking down gulp after gulp of cool, liquid relief. He shut his eyes and just focused on consuming and consuming. Damn he was so thirsty. A hand squeezed over his own, “Whoa, easy there Jimin,” Hoseok’s voice rang softly right beside Jimin’s ear. He jumped, eyes flying open to see Hoseok crouched in front of him. How the fuck was he so quiet? Jimin wondered. A current of shock ran up his spine as Hoseok guided the water bottle away from his lips. “Don’t drink so much before practice, you know how bad that is for you, and how much its gonna...suck if you do that.” Jimin didn’t know what to do, how to react. He was oddly aroused by Hoseok touching him to get him to stop drinking and another wave of shame hit him as he realized two things: 1) His dick was hard and twitching between his legs right as his dance captain crouched beside him and 2) He’d just made one of the most rookie mistakes right in front of said dance captain. Damn what had he been thinking? Drinking so much water so quickly and all at once? Well he hadn’t been thinking, he supposed.Jimin’s head spun. He couldn’t ever have imagined just how overwhelming being alone with his dance captain was. His mind felt sluggish, overly affected; he couldn’t fucking think straight. No, definitely not straight, not as those eyes burned over his skin, seeming to drink in his every detail. “Shit sorry,” he managed to mumble, barely above a whisper. “I know better, sorry.” Hoseok smiled a radiant smile that Jimin couldn’t help but return for a second. “You’re right, you do know better, Jimin. You have to take care of yourself, we have some tough choreography to grind today and I don’t want you slacking this practice.” He ruffled Jimin’s hair and stood up.“I won’t! I would never!” Jimin pouted up at him. Hoseok just laughed and left the room. Abruptly alone again for the second time, Jimin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He felt like a freak for being so turned on by Hoseok for no reasonable reason other than close proximity. Damn, he hadn’t even outright been asked to dance like that. He wasn’t forced to—he’d chosen to. He was so embarrassed, but Hoseok had seemed to like it? Maybe? Humiliation rushed through him, but his cock stayed stubbornly hard, not having softened even a little. He could feel it, swollen and heavy between his legs. Jimin unzipped his hoodie and held it casually in front of himself as he walked to the bathroom. He managed to make it there without encountering a single person. He rushed to lock the door behind him and yanked his briefs and sweatpants down his thighs, letting his cock spring free. Fuck. He shivered from the cool air hitting his skin, or maybe from anticipation—or maybe both at once, his breaths shallow as need crashed over him. His imagination roared to life, immediately spewing images of Hoseok there before him, sweeping his heavy gaze over him as he spat into his hand. Desperate, rushed, he turned his head and bit into the hood of his jacket to muffle his whines. He tried to keep them in, but his sounds escaped past the spit dampened fabric to blur in the background of the scene playing out in his mind. Hoseok would walk in on him, catch him like this, cock out, shamelessly touching himself. Jimin imagined the darkness that would flood his captains gaze. He’d be slammed against the bathroom wall, Hoseok crowding up against him and pinning him there. Fingers closing around his throat. He whimpered at the thought, curling a thumb and forefinger around the base of his length, slowly dragging up and down. Precum began beading at his tip, so with muffled gasps, he spread it out to aid the slide of his palm. He jerked himself off, desperately seeking his pleasure, feeling it building in his stomach, gradually. Until images of Hoseok's tattoo sleeves seared through his mind, those long slender hands and corded forearms inked with art lit his blood on fire. He imagined Hoseok gripping his thighs, squeezing them and spreading them apart, then dragging his nails over his sensitive skin. With a long, helpless whine, he came, the thought of Hoseok marking him filling his mind—imagined bruises blooming under Hoseok's teeth and tongue pushing Jimin over the edge. Gasping and shaking through it, cum squirting over his hands—the moment of euphoria drew out, his vision whiting for a second as he moaned past the fabric in his mouth. It was Hoseok’s name, unintelligible, but still his name getting past Jimin's swollen lips.Echoes of pleasure still ringing through Jimin’s muscles, the reality of what he’d just done crept into the forefront of his mind, and guilt seared hot in his stomach. What is wrong with me? Jimin wondered. But people did this didn’t they? Wasn’t it pretty normal? Even so, shame had settled over his skin like a thick slime. He wanted to disappear. Jimin stared at his reflection in the mirror, dewy skin, cheeks too puffy, dark shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep. Fuck. He really wasn’t making the best decisions, following other people’s advice telling him not to spend so much time worrying over decisions had backfired more than once now. More than twice now, so this was it, no more, he vowed to go back to taking his time with decisions. He sighed, locked eyes with his reflection and tried to pull up his mask of confidence. It took longer than usual but finally he wrestled his expression into something passable. Eyes blankly indifference, chin up, mouth curved into a faint smirk. Then he washed the cum from his fingers. At least he didn’t have a boner anymore. He left the bathroom with only the barest traces of a blush still coloring his cheeks.Practice went by without a hitch. Taemin was right, there had been some changes made to the choreography and most of the next two hours was spent learning the new moves and practicing them. Jimin picked it up quickly with very little need for help and he was glad, because he couldn’t look Hoseok directly in the eye after what he’d just done and would rather not have the chance to stare too closely at him. Hoseok had rolled the sleeves of his hoodie up his forearms, tattoos on full display. And it was too much up close, causing Jimin to salivate, the thought of licking over all that exposed flesh—running his tongue over the veins, obvious even under all the beautiful ink—rose unbidden to his mind, making his cheeks heat. He pushed those images away before they could notably affect him, focusing instead on learning the choreography—as he should be—hammering the new moves into his body’s muscle memory. By the end of practice, Jimin was a sweaty mess. Hair dripping in his eyes, shirt sticking to his back, all he wanted was to take a shower and fall into bed. His muscles burned and his ragged breaths rattled painfully in his chest. Jimin had just finished stretching and was packing up his duffle bag when Hoseok walked up to him. He stared up at his captain, neck aching along with every other muscle in his body it seemed—he hadn’t recovered yet from yesterday’s practice when the troupe's manager had been there to personally oversee it. The whole troupe had pushed themselves to their limits and past. Jimin was still paying for his exertions, especially now, as he’d pushed himself too much again this practice.“Are you available to talk right now, or do you have somewhere else to be?” Hoseok asked him.“Oh, no...yeah, I don’t have anywhere to be. I can talk now, what's up?” Jimin asked dully, tiredness weighing down his speech. He didn’t even have enough energy to get nervous as Hoseok flopped down onto the floor beside to him.“So this isn’t something I’d generally ever do, but seeing you today…” Hoseok trailed off. Jimin tried to follow what he’d just said, he really did, but his leadened limbs and, by extension, his brain would not cooperate with him. So he sat there, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open, waiting for Hoseok to make sense. “Well, you’re an amazingly talented dancer Jimin, and watching you today, I couldn’t help but notice that your talent is practically limitless. I think other people would want to watch you too.” “Isn’t that what the showcase is for?” Jimin asked slowly. Hoseok’s laugh was loud and bright. “Well, yes, but this is something different. Now, I don’t know if you already have a great job, and I don’t want to overstep any boundaries by saying this, but I know a place that would generously employ your ability. I could talk to them.”Jimin’s mind kick started as the word “employ” left Hoseok's lips. “Are you saying you know a place that’s hiring dancers?” The thing was, the troupe didn't pay them much, certainly not enough for it to be a viable career so the dancers all had to have side jobs, it was just the way it was.“...Yes,” said Hoseok.“Wow, to tell you the truth, I actually recently quit my job,” Jimin stammered, unsure why he was suddenly spilling his guts to Hoseok, but rushing on anyway, “And you know like, rent’s not solid so, I wasn’t really sure what to do, but I just couldn’t keep working there anymore, you know?” he laughed nervously. “So yeah, I’m honestly a little desperate right now. Gosh if you could put in a word for me that would be amazing.” Jimin turned suddenly tear glazed eyes to Hoseok. Holy shit was he about to cry? Was Hoseok an angel? Was he hallucinating the way Hoseok’s skin seemed to glow? How long had it been since he’d gotten anywhere close to a full night of sleep? Jimin sniffled a little and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m just a little...I don’t really know, fucked up? Cause I have no idea what to do?” Shit! Shut up, you’re such a mess, he’s never gonna refer you to the dance company now- “I understand Jimin. I’ll talk to my contacts and put in a good word. I don’t want you having to fend for yourself on the street. Here, I’ll give you my number so you can text me when you’re free to do an interview. It’s very casual, nothing to worry about.”“Thank you so much,” Jimin murmured, voice cracking wetly. He flushed with embarrassment, handing Hoseok his phone to enter the new contact into.“You’re welcome, I’m glad the timing worked out this perfectly.” Hoseok beamed down at him, “Go home and get a good night’s sleep—you look like you need it. And just know, I’m not gonna let you get kicked out of your apartment, I always look out for my teammates.” The tears welling in Jimin’s eyes spilled over then, silver lines streaking down his cheeks. “Aw come here,” Hoseok cooed, pulling Jimin against his chest and gently stroking the back of his neck to console him. Jimin didn’t resist, just sobbed quietly, letting himself be held and petted. He was bone tired, and really sweaty and gross probably, but Hoseok didn’t seem to care. It was nice to just be held for no other reason than receiving comfort. When Jimin finally cried himself out, there was a considerable wet patch on the shoulder of Hoseok’s hoodie. Jimin pulled away, hand smoothing over the dampness, opening his mouth to apologize but Hoseok beat him to it,“Don’t worry about it Jimin, they’re just tears. Don’t you feel better? Crying’s usually a pretty good release, we all need it sometimes.”Jimin nodded his head, hating himself for it anyway. He felt wrung out and empty, but also like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. Maybe it was the crying, but really, he believed the credit for his relief was due to Hoseok, not his tears. He sniffled a little, thinking about what a mess he probably looked like, face puffy red, and likely blotchy. Hoseok gave him one last soft hug before standing up and saying, “My roommate’s making dinner tonight and damn, do I love his cooking, so I’m gonna dip out. Text me tonight okay?” With a wink he was gone.Jimin took some deep breaths, just sitting on the practice room floor. He was alone as the sky slowly faded to icy purples and violent reds around him. Taemin found him like that, staring out at the sky through the huge windows. “Jimin,” Taemin plopped down beside him. “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” “Yeah,” Jimin choked on the syllable causing Taemin to look at him. “Are you crying?” Taemin asked with a laugh. “The sky’s so beautiful it brought you to tears?”“No!” Jimin laughed back. “I was just, going through some things. But it’s- it’s better now.” He smiled.“Oh, well if you ever need to talk, I’m here okay?” Taemin slung an arm over Jimin’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze.“Thank you,” Jimin whispered. “I just didn’t want to drag you into my problems if they could be fixed first you know?” “Of course, and I’m glad you were able to figure things out?” “Yes!” “Good, good. Wanna go to dinner with me? I don’t really want to cook anything tonight.” “Sure! I don’t want to cook anything either, I’m too sore.” “Fuck, same.”They left the studio together, chatting brightly about Taemin’s drama with being a married couple’s third.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jimin sat curled up in his bed, soft blankets tickling his chin. His phone was clutched in his hand, finger hovering over Hoseok’s contact. He smiled a little at the sun emoji Hoseok had added beside his name.Jimin had already checked his schedule earlier that evening at the restaurant with Taemin and big surprise, he was pretty much free every day of the week. So now that he was back at his apartment with, again—nothing to do, he figured he might as well try to get that job as soon as possible. A huge yawn overtook him, squeezing his eyes shut and making the room spin for a second. Damn he just wanted to fall asleep right then and there, but Hoseok had told him to text him, so text him he would. Sleepily, he tapped out the message:
Hi, this is Jimin from dance. I’m actually free tomorrow pretty much the whole day before practice so if I can do the interview that soon it would be awesome. Otherwise, I’m free the next day after that as well.
He scrolled through his instagram while he waited for Hoseok to reply. He didn’t have too long to wait—a text coming through after only about three minutes.
Yeah, I’ve already talked to them, they’re excited to meet you! I set up the interview for 11:30 in the morning tomorrow, is that okay? Here’s a link to the address, they’ll ask you some questions, please be completely honest and I know everyone says that but seriously, your honestly will be greatly appreciated, more so than a possibly spotless record. You’ll be asked to for a demo of some choreography so just dance a piece of what you were working on before practice today. Have the music on your phone so you can bluetooth it to the speakers there.
Jimin’s heart rate picked up. Shit this was happening. Hoseok had an in, and he was helping Jimin—Jimin who he didn’t even really know, and didn’t have to do anything for, but was. Jimin’s heart fluttered, chest filling with gratitude. He wondered what he could do for Hoseok to thank him.He rushed to respond: Yeah 11:30 is perfect, I’ll have the choreography and music ready.  Sleep was hard to find after that. He tried to empty his mind, to breathe deeply and evenly, but his unrelenting thoughts endured, spiralling endlessly, and clouding over with anxiety about his impending interview. There seemed to be pieces missing, he thought—information, perhaps, that he hadn’t been provided with—maybe? But he couldn’t be sure. The feeling of being blindsided set in, cloying and all consuming. This all seemed too fast. Was it? Was it too fast? He tossed and turned, head a jumble. It felt like hours had slipped by, he checked the digital clock beside his bed and found that an hour had indeed passed. Fuck. He couldn’t keep doing this, he needed to sleep or he was actually fucked. He decided to try and settle his mind first and then if that didn’t work, he would take some melatonin pills.He picked up his phone and opened the location link Hoseok had sent him earlier in google maps. Clicking on the little yellow figure to browse the street view images, he searched around. But it was just a normal street, with a few small offices, a cafe or two, and lots of little shops lining it. He thought back and realized he’d actually walked down this street before since it wasn’t very far from the main strip and his apartment. He checked the address again and located which building Hoseok had indicated in his text. From the outside, it looked like just an office, nondescript and unintimidating. He breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that Jimin was truly nervous—he knew in his rational mind that it wasn’t a big deal, and that the only existing big deal was his lack of a paycheck coming in. But he was still having to actively fight the irrational fear threatening to consume him. So he deeply appreciated the normal looking building—it’s lack of oddities calming his incessant fear and giving him a chance to ground himself. With a last hard look at the unremarkable street, he closed out of the maps app and plugged his phone into the wall to charge. He lay back down, staring up at the stained ceiling above him for a moment. Taking the chance to bask in the settled and sleepy feeling growing in his chest. The heaviness that had been weighing on his mind for the last hour had finally, mercifully vanished, freeing him from his temporary insomnia, and letting him close his eyes at last. As they drifted shut, a peaceful fantasy began to unravel behind his eyelids. He was dancing to a hard, undulating bass over laced with a light chime and piano harmony that somehow managed to work. Hoseok was dancing beside him, fluid motions linking each of his moves, hitting each beat perfectly, his body snapping with the bass almost impossibly. Jimin felt himself smile, and so like that, he sank slowly into a dreamy oblivion.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jimin’s dubstep drop alarm blasted him from his dreams in the blinding dawn of the following morning. He scrambled to turn it off, ears ringing painfully. A huge yawn wracked his entire body, overtaking him, and he blindly fumbled to find his glasses, shoving them onto his face, and swiping his phone screen to cancel the alarm as his vision cleared through the lenses. And so the day began. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, mechanically moving through every step of his morning routine. There was just enough space in his small living room to practice his choreography—if he was mindful to keep the traveling moves stationary. He worked over his choreography for the next two hours and by ten in the morning judged that he was ready to perform it adequately. He’d slimmed down the length of the song, keeping it to only one minute and forty three seconds. That way, he wouldn’t tire himself out from over practice and he could focus on putting his energy into keeping each gesture crisp but confluent. He came to a stop and stood panting in his dim living room, sweat prickling between his shoulder blades. His muscles were still very sore from overwork at practice, but by now, he’d gotten used to the sensation, able to ignore the burning strain and persevere despite it. Jimin went and took shower after that, then downed an energy drink, grabbed his keys and was out the door with forty minutes to spare. The day was sunny as he walked through the streets, sunlight oozed weakly between the buildings leaving the large pools of shade where it couldn’t reach brisk, gasoline scented air ruffling through his hair.Jimin arrived at the address early, congratulating himself on his excellent time management, but knowing that wouldn’t last. The only reason he was so early now was because he had no job, and no life, but if he got this job, hopefully that would change. Jimin looked forward to having a life again, he’d tried to keep his head up during the time he’d been unemployed but fear and boredom were not kind kinsmen, and they had made his life a living hell for the last week and a half. Jimin took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and opened the office door. A cheery bell greeted him, ringing through the humble space. He looked around, tan tiles, spider plants mounted in pots on the walls, a mahogany desk with a manilla folder on it and a single chair before it. He took the seat and pulled out his phone to wait. At eleven twenty five the bell on the door jingled and Jimin looked up to see a man walking in. He was short, maybe just a bit taller than Jimin and had fluffy black hair that gleamed in the late morning slants of light. A large coat hung off his shoulders and his footsteps slapped loudly across the floor from the thick soles of his combat boots. He settled behind the desk, hands clasped on its surface and gazed sleepily over at Jimin. His eyes were impossibly green and his glossy pink lips reminded Jimin of blushing little rosebuds. It was then that Jimin noticed the myriad of charms hanging around the man’s neck, glisteny pinecone medallions encrusted with jewels and golden symbols, ornate silver lockets and little leather stitched pouches, and glittery ropes of stones that clinked together softly when he shifted. Thick symbol engraved bracelets encircled his wrists and rings sparkled on every finger. Jimin was honestly a little entranced.“There’s a man standing behind you across the street. Do you know him?” The low rasp of voice startled Jimin making him actually flinch in his seat, eyes darting to the man’s face. He had a pleasant voice, one that sent a thrill through Jimin, and lingered in his mind like a sweet aftertaste. That voice stayed his immediate instinct to whirl around in his seat and stare out the window with a sharp order of,“Don’t move Jimin, not yet. Stand up slowly, stretch a little, and turn around and look while you stretch.” “Okay,” Jimin whispered. What the fuck? He was so confused and honestly a little alarmed. He slowly got to his feet, twisting at the waist in a spine stretch and as he turned, he looked out the window behind him, eyes landing on a familiar figure. A creeping sensation rolled through his stomach as he recognized the man standing stock still across the street. Their eyes might have met but Jimin's stretch brought him back around too quickly to tell. He settled back into the chair, fidgeting nervously. “So?” “Yes thats, uh, a friend of mine. I-I don’t really talk to him anymore though, I don’t know what he’s doing there.” “Ah, I see. But how rude of me, I never introduced myself. My name is Suga and I’ll be conducting your interview today,” Suga went on without missing a beat, as if nothing had happened, “Hoseok has some references here-” he patted the folder on the desk, bracelets lightly clinking together, “And that’s probably all we’ll need.” He shifted back in his seat, hands clasped in his lap. “I’m going to start by addressing your lie, Jimin. Hoseok mentioned that you should speak the truth and nothing but the truth, yes?” Jimin nodded numbly, fearing that he’d already failed the interview and would be asked to leave in the next second. “Well you see-” Suga went on, “I can tell when people are lying or telling the truth, so you might as well not even bother trying to lie to me. What is your real relationship to that man?”Jimin trembled in the silence, so many questions pinwheeling through his head. He tried to mouth words into existence but they evaded him. “I don’t mean to overwhelm you Jimin, we can do this in whatever order we want to. We’ll get back to that question then. Let’s talk briefly over your job history.”Jimin felt himself stiffen a little and tried to relax. He didn’t like remembering his last job, but he had to talk about it regardless. With firm resolve, he decided he would be completely truthful this time, just to see if Suga called him out or not. He wasn’t sure if he believed that Suga really could tell if people lied or not but now he was going to find out.“I have experience working as a secretary. My most recent job was here-” he slapped some documents he’d taken with him as proof of employment onto the table and Suga pulled them towards himself to browse through for a second. “Ah yes,” said Suga, “I’ve heard of this company.”“Well I quit because my floor boss continuously sexually assaulted me.” Jimin said, voice hard. His face flushed slowly red as anger brewed beneath the surface of his composure. “Ah, and what was the name of your floor boss?” Suga asked, voice suddenly light, eyes wide—face the picture of perfect innocence. “Dug Kaelle.” Jimin whispered, eyes glued to his lap. “Do you hate him, Jimin?”“No.”“What did I say about lying to me.” He really can tell if I lie or not Jimin realized. He wasn’t completely sold yet but he now entertained the possibility that Suga could somehow tell.“Yes, I fucking hate him.” “Do you think he deserves to die?”“Lord, what kind of interview questions are these?” Jimin asked, laughing nervously as both shock and morbid curiosity coiled together inside of him.“Oh shit you’re right,” Suga said, “I got carried away, sorry, my personal take over...taking shit Hoseok's gonna get so mad at me. Let’s pretend I didn’t say that, yeah?” Suga giggled at the perplexed look on Jimin's face. “Well okay, since we’re having this little honestly fest,” Jimin blurted, “I mean yeah I think he deserves to die. Not specifically for what he did to me, but that I know he does it to everyone else working under him in the branch and he probably does worse to the weaker women who can’t fight him off like I could.”Suga nodded. “I see,” he said, “Yeah, thats fucked up.” The words hung between them, some deeper intensity there causing Jimin to shiver in his seat. He shook it off and nodded, considering Suga. Fleetingly, the thought crossed his mind that this was a pretty weird and comparatively unprofessional interview. But it didn’t feel forced or fake at least, so maybe he preferred it like that.Jimin couldn’t stand the oppressive mood that had settled over them any longer so he tentatively posed a question he’d been wondering since he first laid eyes on Suga, “Can I ask you? What are those necklaces and beads around your neck?” “They’re spelled stones and wood, and amulets and charms.” Suga replied. “Oh.” said Jimin quietly. He stared at Suga with wide eyes. He wasn’t saying that he was a…was he? “I’m a witch.” said Suga, “And No I can’t read minds, and I know that saying that didn't help me convince you that I can’t.” “Oh shit you really can read my mind though!” Jimin cried, starting to panic as he thought of all the personal things Suga must have been able to see inside him, all the things he was probably seeing right now, oh FUCK! “I really can’t, Jimin. I can only tell when you’re lying. I can also predict the future somewhat—that is, when I focus, what I say comes true. Pretty cool, but I can’t read your mind. That's impossible.” “Oh,” said Jimin. He stayed tense, not sure how to relax after that. Suga was a witch?Jimin wondered what he was capable of. Did he have a broom? A familiar? Jimin had never met a witch before, though he knew they existed and were very rare, usually in hiding due to the exploitation of their kind by the government. Jimin was hit then with the gravity of knowing such a thing. Did Suga really trust him with that kind of knowledge?“How can you tell me that? I’m a stranger to you.” Jimin murmured.“Hoseok trusts you, and I trust him. Also, if you turn me in, I’ve evaded the government about twenty six times so far. They’re disappointingly sloppy, so I’m really not worried. They can’t touch me, I’m way too good at what I do.” He leveled a cocky little smirk at Jimin.“So anyway, moving on,” Suga continued briskly, “how about you tell me now who that-” He made air quotes, “friend of yours outside really is and maybe we can deduce as to why he’s still standing there, staring at the back of your head.” Jimin startled, eyes going wide, “He’s still there?” he whisper screamed. Suga nodded importantly. “He is.”“What the fuck.” Jimin mouthed. Suga quirked a brow and waited patiently.“Okay, I’ll tell you. Sorry for not before, I was afraid you’d be homophobic or something.” He rushed on at the look of offense flashing across Suga's face- “You never know, okay? Most people are fine but there’s always the chance that you might get discriminated against.”“I’m bisexual and have a boyfriend so you really don’t have to worry about that here.”“Really? Cool.” They shared a smile. “So the guy out there is an ex boyfriend then, isn’t he.” Suga said.“Yeah.” “Well that's easy then: he’s stalking you.”“What!?”“Yeah, without a doubt, but I’m sensing that there’s more to this than him just being a fucking creep. No offense.”“I honestly don’t care. He was a tool and I couldn’t see it for a while but then a friend helped me wise up and I ended it.” “Sounds like a pretty great friend.”“Yeah,” Jimin smiled softly. “They are.”“Wow, we are so off track right now, can you tell that this isn’t really my job? To like interview people?”Jimin laughed. “Mmm a little bit, maybe.”Suga giggled softly, “But anyway, let’s talk about your history in dance.” So Jimin told him about the dance classes he’d taken, the showcases he’d danced in, and the competitions he’d participated in. It was fun talking to Suga, almost like talking to a new friend and not some random company employee. Who also happened to be a witch. A witch.After Jimin had told him everything, they went to a little dance studio in the back room where Jimin set up his song to play over the sound system speakers.“Alright, go for it! Try to impress me,” Suga said with a wink. Jimin felt a flash of heat run through his body and then a shock of confusion, but the music had already started and he’d missed the first beat. Fuck. He ripped his attention away from Suga and focused on getting the the choreography back on track and fluid. It wasn’t hard after that. He felt a trace of resentment towards Suga for distracting him right before he was supposed to start dancing and so with revenge in his heart, he sharpened each move, exaggerating the sway and grind of his hips, sending his piercing gaze Suga’s way every chance he could get. By the end of the routine, a thought had formed in his mind that he didn’t actually know what this job he was applying for was, he’d gotten distracted and hadn’t had a chance to explain to Suga that Hoseok hadn’t given him much by way of an explanation. But first he was going to watch with a deep, avenged kind of satisfaction as Suga squirmed with arousal all thanks to him. Straight men could barely resist him—there was no way a bisexual one could, even if they were dating someone. And sure enough as the music faded out and he turned around, panting lightly, brushing bangs off his forehead for more effect, he saw Suga: wide eyed, flushed and sweaty looking, chewing on his bottom lip. He was squirming in place and his open coat did nothing to hide the erection straining in his pants. Jimin floated in a cloud of his own smugness as he approached Suga across the floor. He let his eyes wander shamelessly up and down Suga’s body, lingering obviously on his bulge. Suga gulped and Jimin smirked at him, enjoying as the other drowned in sexual frustration all Jimin’s own doing. The tension between them was palpable, crackling in the air, and Jimin just felt so good, so, so validated.He finally decided to take pity on Suga and changed the subject. “Hey, so I actually don’t know what I’m even applying for?” he giggled at how stupid it sounded. “Sorry, Hoseok didn’t tell me anything other than that you guys here were hiring dancers?” He nervously adjusted his sweatpants.The discomfort on Suga’s face immediately morphed into surprise and then annoyance. “Are you serious? What bull. I’m so sorry for not explaining immediately! I thought you knew!” He mouthed for words.“No, maybe I should have told you at first, it’s just we were talking about my ex and I guess I got distracted? So I didn’t even think to ask you.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.“That's alright, well uh. Shit,” Suga seemed to be trying to pull himself together. “You’re a really good dancer,” he breathed, closing his coat in front of him to hide the obvious evidence there that backed up his statement. Jimin suppressed a grin: damn he felt invincible. “Well okay, to put it simply, you’d be working in an upscale night club called Theia Ra. Your job would be divided into two parts. Bartending and stage performances. If you get the job, you’ll be making easily $4k a month excluding tips. The tips you make are separate from your wage and you’re free to keep a hundred percent of them.”Jimin stood frozen, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected it to be but surely this wasn’t it. His mind tried to catch up, tried to connect what he’d known previously to this new far different scenario. “You would only do what you felt comfortable with, routines would be negotiated and you’ll start out mostly bartending with just a few stages a week, very low pressure.”“I-I think I need some time to think this through.” Jimin mumbled, heart racing madly.Suga smiled kindly, “Of course, Jimin, take your time. There’s no rush. Hoseok will get back to you and you can tell him your verdict. So that's all, I think. Oh and before you go-” Suga reached into one of the stitched leather pouches around his neck and pulled out two smooth stones, one with a symbol cut into it and the other with a cloudy center that seemed to glow faintly, pulsating in Suga’s hand. He held them out to Jimin. “Here, take these, they’re for protection and concealment, they’ll make stalker guy get disoriented and run him off your trail every time he gets close. Keep them in your pocket at all times.”Jimin’s heart jumped into his throat. A real live witch is giving me charms? Internally he was screaming and jumping up and down with excitement but on the outside he simply nodded and took the stones from Suga’s outstretched hand. They were silky in his palm and so pretty. He couldn’t stop the smile of wonder that spread across his face as he looked at them. “Thank you so much!”“You’re welcome, it’s the least I could do. Just so you know, the stones have a constant magic in them, that means they work without needing to be activated, so you’ll feel them heat up when they’re doing their job. It's really handy, for instance if the Kind Stone-” Suga pointed to the glowing one, “this one here, starts heating up, you’ll know there’s a person or people—or animals too for that matter—Kind Stones are really really divers so they can affect literally anything with a will, they’re such powerful little stones.” Suga trailed off, gazing fondly down at Jimin’s palm, monologue completely off track and forgotten. Jimin felt his heart squeeze a little. Suga blinked up a him, “Oh where was I?” he mumble, “Ah yes, so what the Kind Stone actually does is distract the possible assailant in subtle ways. It can cause headaches, stomach aches, nausea, that kind of thing and it can also fuck with your thoughts, make you question what you’re doing, if you’re at the right place, doing the right thing. Then if that doesn’t work to either one: get them away from you, or two: calm their malicious intent, then it can do more violent things like loss of bodily functions and such. Rarely does it get that extreme and most of the the time you’re never in any real danger from anyone, so the stone will just be there doing nothing. It's incredibly powerful and very good at picking up on intricate intention. For instance, if a friend were going to sneak up on you and throw a pie on your head, the stone would do nothing, as you aren’t in any real danger and its not coming from any true malicious intent.”“Oh wow, thats sounds incredible” Jimin breathed, completely elated that Suga had given him such an amazing little object.“It is, isn’t it? Kind Stones are incredibly rare so take very good care of it.” Suga beamed.“But then should I really be taking this from you?” Doubt tipped Jimin’s happiness into swan dive to the ground.“Don’t worry about it!” Suga assured him, “I happened to have two actually. I found the second one by mistake in a very unlikely place and was keeping it, not sure what to do with it. I could have sold it of course for a LOT of money but money is replaceable, and Kind Stones rarely are. So take it Jimin, let it protect you!”Gratitude bloomed through Jimin’s chest.“Thank you,” he whispered again, hugging the stones against his cheek.“You’re welcome, now let me tell you about the other stone. I believe you should always know what your tools are and what they can do, otherwise how can you use them?” Jimin nodded at the wise words, quivering in anticipation for what Suga would say next.Suga took Jimin’s hand and opened it, finger tracing over the rune cut stone. “This symbol here is one of three concealment spells. When combined, the three together grant invisibility, however it can only be temporary and doesn’t last for long. If I had three spelled stones like this—a spelled stone with constant magic is called a charm—they’d cancel each other out and none would work, only two concealment charms can work simultaneously. But anyway, your charm is for befuddlement. It makes unwanted eyes slip and lose focus, makes them twitch and itch and turn away for a second. If a person really focuses, they can resist it but its really uncomfortable. In a crowded city this is all you’ll need. It’ll be just enough to keep stalker guy away most of the time and then if he means you harm and does happen to get closer, well he just might shit himself, you never know.”Jimin laughed at the the serious look on Suga’s face. “So just because you have some fancy charms now doesn’t mean you can go around and act stupid. Never rely solely on tools, don’t let them become a crutch.” Suga said sternly.“I won’t, Sir.” said Jimin earnestly. An indecipherable look passed over Suga’s face for a second, and Jimin could only stare into Suga’s piercing green eyes, hoping he’d believe him.Finally Suga nodded. “Very good. Now make sure to clean the charm regularly because if lint or dust builds up, it won't work as well. Have a great rest of your day, Jimin. Contact Hoseok and tell him what you decide. It was lovely to meet you, I trust you won't tell anyone about me? Good, now take care of yourself.”Jimin stood up, tucking the stones deep into his pocket. “It was really nice to meet you too! I won't tell anyone and I’ll make sure the charm stays clean! Thank you so much Suga! Have a good day too.”He turned and sauntered out the door, relief flooding through him as he walked out into the street and realized his ex was nowhere to be seen. He smiled, tracing over the hot little bumps in his pocket.With the interview completed successfully, now he just needed to decide… ✦✦✦✦ As Jimin walked out through the door, plump ass swaying distractingly, Suga reached for his phone, fingertips hovering over a contact name. He debated. Was it worth it to do it himself? He kind of wanted to. If nothing else, just for the satisfaction that he might get from it. But no, it wasn’t worth it, he decided. He dropped a finger onto the call button and settled back in his chair, throwing a leg up onto the desk, waiting for the dial tone to ring. Finally a low voice picked up. “To what do I owe this honor, a call from you oh All Powerful One.”Suga laughed roughly, “Yeah whatever Tae, I have a job for you to do, a target whose body I need you to get for me.” He paused, waiting to see what Taehyung would say to that.“Oh really? Well go on, my ears are all pricked and listening.”“I should have known you wouldn’t say no.” Suga scoffed.“Don’t mock me, little witch. Just give me the details.” Suga hurried to explain everything that he knew of the situation and his instructions for it. When he was finished Taehyung stayed quiet for a moment and then,“Mmmh so what would I get in return for supplying you with so much…product ?” he asked.
Ah yes, the laws of equal exchange “Well, there’re many things I could give you…” Suga mused, “Do you have anything specific in mind or should I suggest something?”

“I want a favor. Anything I ask for, whenever I want it.”

Suga considered. His first reaction was of course to say no, but given the nature of the job and the possible complications that might arise along the way which Taehyung would have to deal with on his own, he figured it was fair to accept a pretty hefty price in return. He pondered the possible outcomes that could result from his agreeing.

“Well as long as it doesn’t put anyone important to me in danger or threaten my loyalty to Hoseok and his goals, I can agree to that. I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to ask for your own freedom though, because you know that’s impossible.”

“You’re right, I’m not stupid, so don’t rub it in my face.” Taehyung hissed. “Consider it done. For all you need to care, he’s already dead.”

Suga smiled. “That’s good.”

“Oh, do you need his genitals or face for anything?”

“Uh…I do not.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later then,” Taehyung purred softly. “I’ve gotta go prep some Kool Aid now for a poor, tortured soul who just can’t live with himself anymore due to the crimes he’s committed against innocents.”

Suga shuddered. “Okay well, enjoy yourself.”

“You know what? I just might,”

Suga didn’t have any doubts about that.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

As the sounds and smells of the city enveloped Jimin, reality sank in. There was no decision to be made, there just wasn’t. Jimin knew it, and he guessed Hoseok knew it too. Jimin had to get the job. He had to. Otherwise he couldn’t pay the months rent, the landlord would kick him out, and he had nowhere to go. He couldn’t even move in with Taemin because the apartment Taemin lived in was already over crowded with roommates and adding another just wasn’t possible.Suga had been polite by allowing him time, by verbally giving him a way out, but there just wasn't a way out of it. And it was okay, it was he told himself. The Job seemed fine. Bar tending and stage performances? I can do that, I can totally do that, he thought a little desperately. Was dancing in front of people out of his comfort zone? No and bar tending sounded fun. It would be okay! It would be so much better than his desk job. It had to be. With a deep sigh, he dug out his phone and pulled up his text conversation with Hoseok, figuring he might as well get it over with, as there wasn’t even a decision to make in the first place. With shaking fingers, he typed out to Hoseok.
Hey there! I think the interview went really well. I can’t believe you know a witch, he was so cool! If I get the job I’m ready to start as soon as possible. Thank you so much for setting up this opportunity for me Hoseok, I appreciate it, you’ve really saved me and I owe you big time.

Jimin pocketed his phone and headed off down the street, moving with the rush of foot traffic towards his apartment to change for practice. He was looking forward to seeing Hoseok there.

When he got to the studio later that day, Hoseok hadn’t yet arrived. Jimin waited patiently for him, watching the door as his fellow troupe mates filed through in ones and twos. With each member that showed up and didn’t turn out to be Hoseok, Jimin’s chest grew a little tighter, and as the last member walked in and it wasn’t Hoseok, he felt his throat close over.

The dance troupe members milled about, chattering to each other before listfully beginning their warm ups. Jimin had forgotten to set his duffel bag down while he vehemently watched the door and now he flung it into the corner with a loud thwack. Taemin glanced up at him with wide eyes from where he crouched on the floor, mouth hanging open, jaw working as if to speak but nothing came out. Jimin noticed the silver scarf that he’d lost the other day now tucked snugly around his neck. For some reason, seeing it there caused a considerable twinge of annoyance to leap to life inside of Jimin. He tried not to frown at his friend, but he just couldn’t wrestle his features into a neutral expression, so he turned away instead, shoes scuffing roughly over the beaten hardwood.

Jimin walked up to the windows, staring out at the city as he tried to deep breath past the boiling sensation swallowing him up. His eyes desperately traced the edges of buildings as air rattled in his lungs. Everyone else was now fully immersed in their warm ups, moving quickly through each of their own personal routines. With a last hissed out breath Jimin turned and joined them, but a molten claw of disappointment still squeezed tightly around his abdomen.

Dancing always made him feel better though, his mood improving as his body rejoiced in the vigorous activity it had come to know and crave.

Breathless and sweating, Jimin checked his phone again during their break, shaking his dripping bands out of his eyes. As he looked down at his notifications, any good feelings he’d managed to dredge up dissipated into thin air. Hoseok had not replied to him. He hadn’t replied and he wasn’t there today and he hadn’t replied.

Jimin’s knuckles grew white around his phone. It’s not like he’d tell me where he is though, Jimin told himself miserably. But he wanted answers, he wanted to know why Hoseok was gone so much, he wanted to know what could possibly be more important than one’s own dance troupe, but he also knew he wasn’t close enough, wasn’t special enough to Hoseok to be told anything. He blinked rapidly as he stowed his phone, turning back to the room, heart a mess.

And so Jimin did what had always worked for him before when processing his problems: he danced till he couldn’t anymore, till his body gave out and he collapsed onto the floor.

By that time everyone had left, even Taemin after he realized that Jimin needed space and was ignoring everything but the flexion of his own body through each step of his choreography. So Jimin lay there alone, sweat streaming, chest heaving, staring up at the fluorescent bars of light humming on the ceiling.

He wanted to check his phone again but he suddenly felt too miserable to do it. Groaning, he pushed himself up to his feet, and stumbled, weaving as blood rushed down. He just, he felt so tired, so spent and all he wanted to do was curl up in his small bed and force his feelings down till they didn’t hurt so much.

Jimin dragged himself to his feet, slowly limping down each flight of stairs, passed the Janitor on his way out. As the door slammed shut behind him and the night air prickled over his sweaty face, his shoulders sagged, muscles truly shaking now and barely functional. Jimin leaned heavily against the door, gazing up at the flat expanse of sky above him, gulping down the stale air. He was just so so ready to get home. With an exhausted sigh he started trudging off towards his apartment.

Dragging himself down a dimly lit alley that saved him a whole block of walking, bag growing ever heavier on his shoulder, he suddenly felt the little stones in his pocket flash hot. He froze, fingers scrabbling over them, trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining their sudden flare. But he wasn’t, they were burning up. He pushed himself to keep walking, tried to pick up the pace but his muscles were screaming, his head growing fuzzy.

Then he heard the slap of footsteps behind him, faintly at first but getting louder with each second. Jimin didn’t have time to wonder why the stones weren’t working; he didn’t dare look back. He shrugged his bag off his shoulder, fuck it, there's nothing too important in there, and broke into a dead run, sprinting down the length of the alley, managing to clear it’s mouth and skid around the corner—only to slam right into something soft but solid. He bounced off it, landing hard on the ground, back and ass absorbing the fall.

Oh fuck, he thought weakly as he lay on the concrete, breath knocked completely out of him, ass and shoulders scraped up and smarting.

“Oh! I’m sorry sir, here let me-” said a deep voice above him.

But Jimin could hear the footsteps of his pursuer as they rounded the corner and he cowered, head down, crawling away as best he could, further from the mouth of the alley.

“Leave him alone—” an unfamiliar voice cried, “he’s fine! He’s with me.”

“Forgive me,” said the deep voice, “but why would he be running from you, if he’s fine and he’s with you?”

“It’s none of your business. Now get away from him, or we’re gonna have a problem here, Dipshit.”

Jimin slowly lifted his head. His pursuer was posturing, clad in loose jeans and an even looser hoodie, snap-back brim poking out from the dark hood. All he could see of the guy’s face was a large hooked nose and a lopsided mouth leering gold grillz. The man he’d crashed into was clad in a crisp lilac suit that hugged his wide shoulders, haircut stylish, jaw smooth and full with youth.

The lilac suit laughed lowly, “Dipshit huh? That’s definitely not one of my favorites—”

In a flash, the Suit lunged, slamming into Beak Nosed guy. Jimin watched in horror as a glint of silver slashed through the air at the end of the Suit’s hand. Fabric tore and Jimin blinked up to see Beak Noses’ hoodie slashed through across the shoulder.

Suit pressed his blade threateningly against the skin of Beak Noses’ neck, ripping the hoodie further away with his bare hand, eyes darting across the exposed flesh.

“Blood Ring,” Suit snarled, knife pressing reflexively harder into Beak Noses’ neck drawing a thin trickle of blood. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you right here, you fuckin waste of space.”

“There’s a witness, pretty boy,” Beak Nose gritted out, widened eyes darting around the deserted street. “Now, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but if you don’t let me go right fuckin now, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day.”

I need to run. Jimin screamed helplessly at himself, oh god, I need to run, but his limbs were putty. He was so tired and scared, his vision swimming at random.

Suit didn’t move, didn’t ease the pressure on his knife. The tension between them was palpable, growing with each second that the threat hung for longer in the air.

Then it broke as Beak Nose whipped out a gun and shoved it into Suit’s face, barrel pressing into his cheek. Jimin flinched as the metal gleamed cruelly, but Suit didn’t pull away from it, he just started laughing, and thrust his face harder against the barrel of the gun.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he murmured softly, drawing his tongue teasingly along his lower lip “I hope you realize what a mistake you just made.”

Beak Nose faltered, eyes growing impossibly wide.

Suit giggled manically, “Pull it you piece of shit, pull the trigger and see what happens!”

Beak Noses’ fingers shook on the handle of his gun and in that moment of uncertainty, Suit body slammed him into the side of the building. Jimin gasped and found that his temporarily frozen limbs had thawed; he clambered numbly to his feet, body shivering uncontrollably.

“You coward, you worthless fuck,” Suit breathed into Beak Noses’ ear.

A dull thwack sounded through the street. Jimin saw Beak Nose go limp, hood sliding off as he slumped unconscious onto Suit’s shoulder, gun slipping from his nerveless fingers to clatter onto the ground.

Suit glanced down at the weapon, then over to Jimin who now leaned weakly against the side of the building. He kicked the gun over to Jimin and it slid to a stop by his foot.

“Take that, and get out of here,” Suit ordered.

Jimin didn’t hesitate, he reached down and grabbed the gun, shivering as his fingered closed around the handle. Turning, ready to bolt, he glanced back one last time at Suit, watched him hoist Beak Noses’ unconscious body into an unceremonious Fireman’s carry. Their eyes met, and Jimin shook like a leaf under that calculating gaze, but he still managed to mouth out a silent thank you. Suit nodded once, then turned on his heal, walking away with the drooping body across his shoulders into the gloom of the alleyway that Jimin had escaped from, leaving him alone in the empty street.

Every nerve in Jimin’s body screamed with adrenaline, his body pounded with it, shaking from it. He stared down at the gun in his hand. He didn’t know how to use a gun. There was a safety wasn’t there? Was it on? He didn’t know how to tell.

He watched the alleyway, intently looking for any flicker of movement. There was nothing. His ears strained to pick up any odd sound, anything beyond the ordinary roar of city traffic growling in the distance. But there was nothing. He thought about the bag he’d left, just down that shortcut alley. It was so close—he could go back for it. But he just...he couldn’t do it.

He’d been chased, had almost been caught, then got saved by a strange and violent gentlemen—now there was an actual gun in his hand, he was holding a gun. My hand prints are now on this gun, Jimin realized dully. So he couldn’t just leave it anymore. But he also couldn’t bring himself to reenter the alleyway to retrieve his bag. He tried to make himself go back, he did. And he just couldn’t.

With a slow glance around to first ensure that the street was still deserted, he stumbled off towards his apartment, thighs burning, legs like lead, poor heart leaping pitifully in his chest. Every shadow jumped out at him, startling him constantly as he tried to cross the city. He’d tucked the gun into his hoodie pocket, barrel pointed out, and hoped that if he passed anyone, they wouldn’t notice.

By the time Jimin got to the hall outside his door, every last one of his nerves were fried to a crisp; he was so frazzled he could barely stand, shuddering uncontrollably in place. He stared at the faded wood of his door, exhaustion so heavy it was hard to think. But then he did think.

And slowly, hopelessly, utter devastation engulfed him. His keys. They’d been in his duffel. Back at that fuck forsaken alley now a fifteen minute walk away. It had somehow completely slipped his mind. All he had now was his wallet and phone, and the useless little stones.

His legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor in a heap, eyes staring wide open. But he couldn’t see anything as panic swallowed him whole, suffocating him it’s dark, crushing embrace.

He lay there at the foot of his door, sobs bursting up through his chest, too weak to hold them back in any longer. He gasped through his tears, vision tunneling as lightheadedness sapped him of any coherent thought. Suspended in endless, horrifying panic, he struggled to stay conscious, to just keep breathing—it was all he could do.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Suga stared down at his phone, finger playing idly with his lower lip. Jimin. What to do about Jimin. From the second Hoseok had asked him to run the interview, he’d known who he’d be meeting. It was always going to be him, the truth of it bled clearly wherever he looked. And Suga had known they’d meet one way or another, but this—this had been entirely unexpected. The Jimin he thought he’d known was nothing but a particle of dust in a giant storm that was the actual Jimin. And Suga’s poor heart wasn’t sure if it could take it.Fuck, he thought miserably. God he was too tired to be dealing with this magnitude of feelings. He yawned and stretched, scratching his soft tummy and swaying with the strength of how long his mouth forced itself open. He slumped, tears welling in his eyes, and then glanced at the clock. It was 11:47pm.He tried to suppress another yawn but his body did what it wanted. As usual. He jumped when the spell on his rib cage suddenly burned and Taehyung’s voice boomed from his shirt,“Open the fucking gate, I have a plaything for us.”“Fuck, Tae, it’s almost 12 o’clock,” he choked, heart beating wildly in his chest“It’s really heavy, Yoonie come on, I lugged it all the way from the shopping sector.”“You-you bought it?”“No, just open the fucking gate, Yoongi I swear to god.”“Get fucked Tae, I don’t wanna deal with your shit tonight.” “But you do, you stupid witch. Hoseok’s gonna be so mad if you turn me away, you don’t understand, it’s important.”With a tired sigh, Yoongi released the spells on the gate to his house, waiting helplessly for Taehyung to invade his space.He could sense a disturbance in the balance as Taehyung entered the premise; his presence overwhelmed many of the delicate spells scattered throughout Yoongi’s house, their intricacies crumbling under the power of Taehyung’s barely contained chaos. Yoongi’s own core magic contained him, and so it could sense the sudden proximity as well, for no sound alerted him to Taehyung’s closeness, but he knew it when the man approached him from behind.Taehyung’s deep voice silked out, “I think we should do this in the basement.” Yoongi’s body shivered compulsively. He let out a shaky breath. “There’s a lot in the basement. What do you want in there.”“As much as you might think I just enjoy your company, I’d like to get this over with so I can focus on my actual job. I’m not doing this for free, Yoongi, Hoseok owes me now, and so do you.”Yoongi’s skin crawled as he turned in his chair to gaze up at the smooth planes of Taehyung's face, glazed golden in the flickerings of candlelight. Those dark eyes captured the intensity of raging rain storms and pregnant pauses, the unspoken language beneath shallow words—the savagery of disformed morals.Yoongi’s eyes avoided looking for too long into those swirling depths. His gaze slid instead over to the body draped across Taehyung’s shoulders, the gym bag hanging from his hand.“Explain.” Yoongi ordered, voice hard. He hated how unsettled he felt—how caught off guard he was by the dissonance of Taehyung’s make-up. It was Yoongi who held all the cards—had all the power and yet Taehyung still affected him more deeply than he’d ever admit to anyone.“I will once we get to the basement.”Three little Spirits of Feeling burst up from beneath Yoongi’s skin to hover nervously in the air around his head. They emerged when Yoongi’s systems got so backed up with his own power that his emotions threatened to become physically explosive. Yoongi glared at them and willed the satisfied look on Taehyung’s face to vanish. “Stop it,” Taehyung gritted through his teeth, face now forcefully blank by Yoongi’s will. Yoongi didn’t want to deal with Taehyung’s smugness and he didn’t have to thanks to their intermingled life forces, his being the dominant one and so being able to control the other.He ignored Taehyung and rose from his chair, large sweater swirling around his hips like a dress. The Spirits of Feeling bobbed behind him, winking and sighing little melodies to calm him. As Yoongi approached the large bookcase situated along the back wall, brushing past Taehyung to reach it, four tarot cards rose from his desk by their own volition to follow him, hovering around him in anticipation of his eventual and eminent need of them. Yoongi closed his eyes and stroked the staves of the shelves, incoherently murmuring the incantation that opened a doorway through the containment enchantments on his basement.Very few people knew about his basement—only the people closest to Hoseok. There were three of them—not including himself and Taehyung, and none but Hoseok and Taehyung had ever set foot in there. There was a reason for that. Yoongi kept most of his rare and dangerous magical items within it. Hidden in the sprawling, labyrinthine hallways and locked doors beneath his house. Though he called it his basement, it actually was a labyrinth—designed to protect and accommodate the precious magical collection he’d managed to acquire so far over his arguably short lifespan for a witch. He was a very young witch, but he worked tirelessly to be where he was. A large portion of the bookcase fell away, melting into the wall to reveal a hatch. Yoongi threw himself against it, using all of his body weight to shove it open and inward with a creek. The two entered, passing through the thick layers and sheets of spells placed on the basement. Once they were finally in—hatch shut tightly behind them, spells slipping back into place—Taehyung shrugged the load off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Yoongi jumped back to avoid getting hit by an errant limb. With a heavy sigh, Taehyung smoothed down his lilac suit, “Look at this,” he said gravely, grabbing the body by it’s hair and yanking it up to shoulder height to be viewed in the flickering sheen of LEDs on the ceiling. Taehyung tore away the already seemingly ripped fabric of the body's hoodie, revealing the sallow flesh of a collarbone bone and beneath it, a red, dripping, circle tattoo.“Oh,” said Yoongi. It all made sense now, “I see.” Taehyung nodded, “I’m sure I don’t need to suggest to you what room we’ll use.”“We?” “Well I thought—” Yoongi laughed at him. “You need me there with you to settle your cognitive dissonance.” The laugh died in his throat.“Shut the fuck up Tae, I don’t need you to feed me my own medicine.”It was Taehyung who was laughing now. Yoongi silenced him with a flick of his wrist. They marched off along the main corridor, heading purposefully towards a section of Yoongi’s basement that he liked to call the Delivery Room. It was a large open space with drains in the floors and a vast assortment of tools and ingredients stored along the walls. The room was lit solely by torch, huge sconces mounted at intervals—and indeed, the Delivery Room was the only space in the basement to use fire as it’s only light source, for spells reacted in unpredictable ways to live flame because it was an amplifier—though an unstable one. Rarely did any spell casting take place in the Delivery Room but when it. It was used for other things. But if Yoongi did happen to cast spells, the Emperor card lent more than enough stability for it to be safe.“Chain it up and I’ll start brewing a living death potion,” Yoongi told Taehyung.“That takes upwards of two hours to make though.”“I know, let’s hope we don’t have to wait and use it.” Taehyung’s low laugh sent shivers down Yoongi’s spine. He smiled. When Taehyung finished locking each manacle around the wrists and ankles of the unconscious guy, Yoongi asked him conversationally, “So what’s he like? What kind of direction do you think we should we take this? I’ll give you some liberty tonight.”“How cruel of you Yoongi,” Taehyung bit out, “On a night when I’m in a rush? How could you dangle this in front of me?”“Because I know how long you’d take any other day.”“Fuck you.” Taehyung growled, cutting towards him with violence in his eyes.“Hey!” Yoongi barked, backing quickly away, “Calm yourself, or you won't get to do shit.”Taehyung stared him down for a long moment, then finally drooped. “Okay,” he said, “I don’t know, dude seemed like he’s got a fragile ego, really plays up the whole gangster bullshit.”“How did you find him exactly?”“Its weird and so lucky. I interrupted him while he was chasing a civilian.”“You found him chasing a civilian? In the Sun District?” Yoongi repeated doubtfully. Taehyung nodded, explaining what had happened till Yoongi was briefed in every detail that he knew.Yoongi played with his lip. It had been a while since he’d had to do this kind of thing. He was probably forgetting basic steps. He looked over at Taehyung.“We should pat him down,” Yoongi realized, “Make sure he doesn’t have anything on him he could use to escape.”“Oh I suppose…It’d be fun to watch him try and get away though.” Yoongi shook his head in disapproval."You shouldn't play with your food before you eat it," he admonished. Taehyung caught his eye and said lowly, "I always play with my food." Yoongi shivered.Taehyung came up with a few knives, an even smaller pocket pistol, and three little smooth stones. He brought them over to Yoongi who had started preparing ingredients for the living death potion at the counter.As Yoongi’s eyes tracked over Taehyung’s open palm with the stones nestled inside, a trickle of dread ran through him. They were spell stones—charms. Yoongi snatched them up, staring down at the engravings. One was a charm for seeing hidden things—enhancing one's sight. Another was a basic body shield, and the third was a charm for keeping a clear mind. All of these spells were incredibly hard to stably transcribe into stone, making them rare and their value incredibly high.What’s shit like him doing with such powerful charms? Yoongi wondered. How could he possibly get ahold of these? He had to have gotten them from a witch but…. But Yoongi couldn’t think of anyone who’d hand out charms like that, especially three to one person. The spells themselves seemed oddly specific too. Yoongi figured he had to be missing something. There just wasn’t a reason for normal people to have them. Average people had very little use for spells at all. He stared back down at the bottles of potion ingredients he’d been putting together.Fuck this, Yoongi decided, gathering up the bottles to return to their shelves. No need for a living death potion when I have Taehyung, he thought with savage satisfaction. And so they began, Taehyung kicking the guy till he shook awake with a yell.“What’s your name?” Yoongi asked as the man blinked blearily up at them.“Its Fuck Face,” said Taehyung.“Alright, Fuck Face,” Yoongi simpered, “let’s talk about why trash like you would have three powerful charms in their pocket.”“I ain’t telling to you jack shit.” Fuck Face spat. “Oh I think you will be.” Taehyung murmured, “ Remember me, Fuck Face?” He yanked on a chain going up into the ceiling that hoisted Fuck Face’s arm manacles up the wall till he scrambled to stand or risk breaking his wrists. Taehyung promptly kicked him in the dick.“Here’s how this is gonna work,” Yoongi said as Fuck Face wheezed pitifully, attempting to double over without much luck as the manacles kept him brutally upright. “I ask the questions, you answer them honestly. Anything other than an honest answer to my questions will result in worlds of pain for you. This is entirely up to you. If you choose to cooperate you still might be able to walk after this, or even use your dick-”“-Oh I’d hold it on that last part, let’s not make any promises we can’t keep, now,” Taehyung murmured. “You might still be able to walk.” Yoongi amended. “All levels of pain and discomfort you’re going to experience from this point forward will be entirely your own fault. You’re doing this to yourself.”“Yeah, I’ll be here fucking you up, but really, you’re the one fucking yourself,” Taehyung breathed against Fuck Face’s neck. He’d gotten up close, trailing a finger up the guy’s jawline and into his hair, where he grabbed a fist full of it and turned to Yoongi. “Gonna break this long ugly thing,” he hissed, stroking along the bridge of Fuck Face’s nose.“I’ll start with an easier question.” said Yoongi, “What are you doing in the Sun District? Hope doesn’t allow filth like you to walk his streets.”“The Blood Ring doesn’t have to answer to him.” Fuck Face growled.Yoongi felt Taehyung's body coiling, waiting to be stopped. He let him go. And with a sickening crunch, Taehyung broke Fuck Face’s nose with the heal of his palm. “You’re just like your namesake now, aren’t you Fuck Face.” Taehyung said softly as the guy screamed, eyes squeezed shut, blood streaming down his lips and bubbling in his mouth Yoongi gazed coldly on. “Look what you did to yourself. You just broke your own nose. What poor decisions you’re making tonight, Fuck Face.”“Stop calling me that,” Fuck Face groaned, “My name's Cavner.” Blood smeared in uneven lines across his gold grillz as he spoke. Yoongi walked forward and drew the spell for easing pain on Cavner cheek using the fresh blood from his nose. The Tarot cards fluttered up around his head, glowing faintly as they helped stabilize the spell and make it stronger. Yoongi flicked away the Magician from the air, he didn’t need the spell to be strong, just needed it to work—to ease a part of the guy’s pain just enough so he could think more clearly. “Try again.”“I was ordered to.”“No shit.” Taehyung snapped. He swept away towards a rack of knives, inspecting the blades carefully then picking out a thin stiletto. He advanced on Cavner, brandishing the knife. “Since you’re not cooperating, I think it’s time to have some fun.” He twirled the knife with a wink, “Are you gonna be fun, Fuck Face?”Yoongi checked the time. “Let’s hurry this up, you’re on a schedule right?”Taehyung nodded, lips pouting for a second and then he scraped the blade across the guy’s neck, reopening a thin cut already there, drawing up a bright dribble of blood, and a hiss of pain. Taehyung smiled and leaned forward to lick at the rivulet of blood. He sighed with contentment and whispered,“You taste good. What a fucking surprise, I might just have to chop you open and eat you now. I’d keep you alive while I did it. I’d use only my sharpest blades, get you screaming so desperately as I ripped out your guts. That’d just be so good, wouldn’t it?” Taehyung let out another soft sigh at the idea and licked his lips. A smear of blood clung to the edge of his mouth.Yoongi turned away in disgust. Taehyung had a spell tattoo that kept him from contracting blood borne diseases but that didn’t make him any less unsettling to watch. He rather wished he’d chosen to brew the living death potion now, if only to have something to distract him from Taehyung in action. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. So, face emotionless, eyes dead, voice level but infused with the promise of threat, he barked, “I’m about to shatter your knee caps and by consequence, both your wrists. Answer my fucking question.”Taehyung drew his blade in two vicious downward slashes across their prisoner's cheek, "Right where you pressed that gun to my head," Taehyung murmured before leaning in and sealing his lips around the cuts, sucking hard at them.Yoongi watched with a detached sense of regret as a wet patch formed steadily across the crotch of Cavner’s Jeans. He was pissing himself. Taehyung didn’t notice at first, couldn’t see as the urine traveled down his pant legs, and pooled at his feet, dribbling into a nearby drain. Yoongi had wondered how long it would take for this to happen. Drains were good things, he thought. He crossed his arms as Taehyung reared back finally at the obvious splashing sound, “Did I say you could fucking wet yourself, Fuck Face?” he snarled, ignoring the splatters of piss that landed on him. He drove his fist into Cavner’s stomach, over and over again ripping loud grunts of pain out of him, punching every last drop of piss out, and Taehyung just kept punching and punching till the guys body jerked like a rag doll, unable to stand anymore, sagging helplessly in his chains.Shit Yoongi thought to himself as he watched the violence unfold, it really has been a while since I’ve tortured anyone, this shit fucking sucks. He knew they could be doing this in a technically more efficient way. So Yoongi called off Taehyung for a moment and approached their prisoner, mindful not to let his shoes touch the mess beneath him.

“It could be so easy for you,” he said. “Why aren’t you making this easy for yourself? Look at you, you’re disgusting. You could get this over with, you could just answer the damn questions, cause you’re not gonna have a choice here pretty soon. You can either choose to tell us now, or I can force a potion down you and you’ll tell me everything anyway.”

Yoongi was bluffing. He didn’t have a potion for that—he knew they existed, but their recipes were carefully guarded by witches older and more powerful than he was.

“I’ll cut your thumbs off first, though” Taehyung said with a giggle.

Cavner shook in his chains but his flailing was useless. Taehyung advanced, carefully eyeing his hands, reaching out to touch the bumps of the knuckles “I’ll cut each one of them off—” he murmured with a smile, “one by one till they’re all gone, and then well, hmmmm… Then I think I’ll… I’ll feed them to you, make you eat them. Make you eat your own sawn off fingers. I’ve heard you can bite through a finger as easily as a carrot, ah ha! Well we’re going to find out now aren’t we Fuck Face?” Taehyung pressed his own thumb into the cuts on the guys’ face, making him flinch away weakly, groaning in pain as the pressure kept increasing.

Taehyung leaned in, mouth brushing against Fuck Face’s ear and whispered, “Make sure to scream as loud as you can, okay? Squeal like the fuckin pig that you are.”

Yoongi watched the exact moment that Cavner crumbled,

“Okay I’ll tell you!” he sobbed, “Just, just don’t, don’t fuckin do- don’t fuckin do that.” He twitched away from Taehyung's prodding fingers and glinting knife.

They waited. “I was cleaning up some kid’s mess—” Yoongi had to admired for a second the juxtaposition of that statement. “The job was to bag that—that fuck you saw,” his eyes flicked towards Taehyung. “Was supposed to nab him, the, the noob couldn’t do it though, so I got sent in to do it.”

Yoongi thought for a second, “Why couldn’t the other boy get him?”

“Cause he’s a fucking coward that's why.” Yoongi felt the itch of a lie.

“Lying to me? You can now remove his left thumb,” he directed Taehyung.

“No! No wait!” Fuck Face cried, writhing in his chains, more piss leaking down his jeans. Yoongi wrinkled his nose.

“That fuck had-had spells on him. Charms. Or something,” Fuck Face rushed. “That's what I was told, told to take those rocks with me and see if I could get him. I don’t know about them—” the itch of another lie at that last statement. “And I almost did, but he ran like a fuckin bullet.”

“You do know about the stones, who gave them to you?” Yoongi demanded. Coldness slowly clenched around his chest. What Cavner was describing was starting to seem vaguely familiar to him. He couldn't quite work out exactly what was starting to line up yet, he needed to know more.

But Fuck Face hesitated, so Taehyung slammed his foot into the guys crotch.

“Speak, motherfucker,” Taehyung spat at him.

“CL,” Cavner wheezed out when he could breath past the pain in his groin. “CL gave ‘em to me.”

Yoongi’s mind blanked out. How? Why? Fuck! He could feel the truth, knew it was the truth, but he didn’t want it to be. And that made another truth just that much more apparent. CL was capable, very capable. She knew her shit and she made bank off it. He stared down at the spell stones still nestled in his palm.

There was just one more thing to check before he could confirm the feeling he was having. “And the guy who failed to catch him? How did he go about it?”

“He used protocol for rare, high quality, goods. Get close, get them to trust you, then take them when they’re vulnerable and they never expect it. He was dating the target but then the little fuck broke up with him, so he had to stalk him instead.”

It was Jimin. Jimin was the target. It had to be Jimin—without a doubt. And that meant Jimin’s ex was part of Blood Ring, and not only that, he had to have considerable influence—considerable rank—enough to afford him access to resources like a mercenary witch’s services. That didn’t come cheap. Cavner was trying to play down this other boy’s importance. Yoongi wasn’t sure why. Jealousy? Was he trying to hide the full truth?

Either way Jimin’s ex had to be working closely with CL for Cavner to get the stones so quickly. Cavner played up his own importance but Yoongi could tell he was just discardable meat. The guy was stupid and Jimin’s ex was using him as a pawn in his own stead as a sort of trial. That could only mean the boy didn’t trust CL. Yoongi's mind was starting to spiral as multiple possibilities presented themselves. He shook himself out of it and quickly responded,

“Very good. That’s how you properly answer questions.” He turned to Taehyung who was idly flipping the blade between his fingers. “Let him down to the floor and bind him. The black nylon, just make sure he can’t move. I’ve heard enough."

Yoongi took a cloth tipped wand and drew the spell for sleep using a mix of blood and piss from the floor, cards ruffling up around him. He kept the Magician in with them this time. When the spell was complete, Cavner keeled over, completely bound by the black nylon that Taehyung had tied him with, now lying in his own filth.

“Not gonna lie, kinda wish that were me right now,” said Taehyung offhandedly as he stared down at their work. Yoongi had absolutely no words to say to that. He turned away.

“Come on, we both have places to be right now, and sorry but your job’s going to wait. You have to go tell Hoseok everything, you know this changes a lot of shit right? Hoseok has to know that Blood Ring’s hunting in his territory.”

“Wait where are you going? Why do I have to be the one that tells Him?”

“Because Hoseok will be blind and dumb with rage when he hears about this, and I’m not gonna be anywhere near him when that happens. That boy you saved? It’s Jimin. Tell him it’s Jimin and you’ll get exactly what you want.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Yoongi started to feel hot.

“...Alright. Fine, I will. But who is Jimin?”

“Jimin is Hoseok’s handpicked little dancer. He’s going to be working in Theia Ra. He’s an investment. And a huge risk, but the rewards’ll be worth it. Probably. I interviewed him today, actually.”

“I see,” said Taehyung. “I don’t like it when Hoseok doesn’t tell me these things.”

“Well you can say that to him when you see him. I have to make a call now. Lets go.”

They left the Delivery Room with Fuck Face still in it, lying limp and bound and out on the cold, hard floor. After coming up through the hatch past the layers of spells and shelves of books, Yoongi paused to double check that his basement was completely sealed—that nothing could get in or out unless he alone released the spells.

Satisfied, he turned and came nose to nose with Taehyung. And suddenly Yoongi was pressed roughly backwards into the wall, Taehyung’s large shoulders caging him in, hips pinning him in place. Loud, desperate breaths stroked across his cheeks, then a low whimper crawled from Taehyung's gulping throat. The sound hung in the sliver of space between them, and then hot lips landed on Yoongi's neck, sucking, licking laving at the delicate skin. Overwhelmed, Yoongi stood frozen there, trying to hold back a moan, his sensitive neck lighting up with pleasure and tingles that shot down his spine. It felt so good. With a whine, he blasted Taehyung backwards.

“Get off me! We have serious shit to do! Bad Taehyung!”

Indifferent, Taehyung picked himself up and stalked languidly back towards him, getting right into Yoongi’s space again.

“I’m so horny, Yoonie,” he whimpered, large hands closing around Yoongi’s tiny waist, fingers squeezing so hard, making Yoongi’s mind cloud a little at the edges. Taehyung pressed his massive erection against Yoongi’s lower stomach, holding him there, humping him once, twice—

“You fucking animal!” Yoongi shrieked. “Go! Go to Hoseok! Go right now! You have to tell him everything, I swear Taehyung.”

“Shit, fine.” Taehyung let him go, but not before a last thrust of his cock into Yoongi’s tummy and a sharp nip at his neck. Yoongi shivered, chest tight with anger—or something.

He shook himself out of it, shutting down his thoughts before they could start straying in unwanted directions, and walked over to his desk where he’d left his phone. He had to call Jimin. Had to check that Jimin was okay after his brush with violence earlier.

✦✦✦✦

The aching, uncontrollable panic that pounded through Jimin seemed endless, he was there but he wasn’t. It was agony, he was crying, sobbing, screaming maybe—but he didn’t know. Then somewhere, a sound cut through the panic, drew him up and out for a second, his vision suddenly twisting into focus, landing on his phone that he clutched in his hand. It was ringing. Someone was calling him. He peered at the contact name and felt his heart lurch out of his chest. captUred_MEmory. captUred_MEmory was calling him. They’d exchanged numbers but only ever texted. A call somehow seemed too intrusive so he’d never done it. But now it was happening and he didn’t know what to do, a different kind of panic rising to replace the first. He was such a mess. But then...captUred_MEmory already knew that, he realized.

Throwing caution to the wind, he swiped the answer icon.

“Hello?” his voice sounded thin and hoarse even to his own ears.

“Jimin? Where are you, are you okay?” The voice was deep and gravely. Jimin shivered hearing his own name spoken aloud like that. He drew in a shuddering breath.

“Oh I, n-not, no, not really no, no, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to call you, ah ha.” He was stuttering, he couldn’t help it, he could barely string sentences together he realized, chest filled up and fit to burst with too many feelings packed into it. He laughed brokenly at himself.

“Its Yoongi. Are you safe?” Why was Yoongi asking that? Did he somehow know, Jimin wondered. Yoongi, it was a nice name, it was cute.

“Mmmh I-I, I think so,” he said back, then figured he should just spill everything since that was how they were together over text.

“I got locked out of my apartment though. I’m so tired, Yoongi, I really pushed myself too much dancing, and. I don’t know if I can trust you—no, no I’m sure I can,” he backtracked, really thought about it, thought about how much Yoongi had helped him, how much he cared—for some reason. Jimin could trust him, “I know I can,” he said. “I-I have a gun. I don’t know what to do.” Jimin dissolved into tears then, overwhelmed by it all as he tried to explain. “I couldn’t stop. It kept going and I couldn’t stop it.” The panic, “But then you called, but I just don’t know what to do,” he sobbed out.

“Okay, I want you to take deep breaths in your belly, put your hand on it and feel it rise and fall,” the deep voice soothed. It was comfortingly familiar somehow. “What do you mean you couldn’t stop it? What couldn’t you stop?”

Jimin gasped shakily, trying to do what Yoongi told him to.

“I’m panicking Yoongi,” he whispered.

“Its okay Jimin, take deep breaths. And tell me what you couldn’t stop!” Yoongi sounded desperate, Jimin though distantly as he tried to breath.

“The panic, I couldn't stop the panic. Until you called me.” Jimin murmured through his breaths.

“Oh. Okay. Okay, this might seem like a lot, and maybe too soon, but if you’re comfortable with it, send me your location and I can come help you.”

Everything was happening so quickly and Jimin was too distraught to even care. He felt so alone, so out of control but now he didn’t have to, not if Yoongi—sweet, loving Yoongi came and saved him.

“I want that.” Jimin choked hoarsely. “I’ll text you the address and the key code.”

“Alright, I’m gonna stay on the line with you okay? I’m not gonna hang up, I’ll keep talking till I get there.” Gentle waves of warm relief washed through Jimin at his words. Yoongi was wonderful. It was just what he needed. And he was coming to Jimin and everything would be okay. Jimin knew this, knew he could trust Yoongi because he’d always been dependable, always there for him so now this was just another step further into their friendship. Jimin’s heart fluttered.