Being born a fae has its perks.
There a lot of them, really, but Yoongi doesn’t spend his time counting his blessings.
Yoongi stares at the prisoner with an expression albeit to curiosity. Seokjin – the Unseelie King with the face of the Gods and the heart of a demon practically demanded him to return to the castle in the Unseelie Court immediately and Yoongi just can’t help but to feel a little annoyed because he had been hunting and is so close in capturing a wayward gremlin, too.
“Come back in 5 minutes or I’ll turn you into a gremlin,” Seokjin said cheerfully. “You’ll like what I’ll show you, I promise,” he cooed.
“I don’t want your promises,” Yoongi bit back, but he went back anyway.
Bestfriend or not, Seokjin is worse than the devil himself. Yoongi is not about to take risks.
Seokjin had explained with some sort of excitement that the troll guards have captured a Summer Fae who has wandered too far into the territory.
The fact that Summer Fae of the Seelie Court hardly go into the Winter Territory raises the hunter’s interest. And Yoongi is hardly ever interested in anything that doesn’t benefit him.
He idly traces the cold metal bar of the cage that holds the prisoner, smiling wryly when the Fae inside flinches slightly. Unlike the Winter Fae, Summer Fae are more vulnerable to their own emotions and the vulnerability that comes off this particular Summer Fae hits Yoongi like strong waves.
He likes it.
The fae himself is dressed in rags and his hands and feet are bloodied; proof to his prior resistance to being captured. His face is hidden and the only distinctive feature of him that Yoongi could see is his blonde hair. It’s matted with blood and grass and melting snow, but it looks soft to the touch, even in its messy condition.
“What’s your name?” Yoongi drawls, “What’s a Summer Fae doing in the Unseelie Court?”
The Summer Fae looks at him now. The first thing that Yoongi notices are his eyes.
It’s a warm brown colour, so warm that Yoongi could imagine the warmth of the sun on his skin.
His lips are set in a thin line and he looks at Yoongi with strong defiance. There is no tremor in that gaze – the sort of tremor that Yoongi gets used to seeing in other creatures’ eyes when they look at him. The paleness of his skin further highlights the bruises along his jawline and throat but the Fae doesn’t look like he’s in pain. He looks as if he couldn’t be bothered by his bruises at all.
But despite all that, there is something vulnerable about him; the same vulnerability that Yoongi senses from him earlier. The sort of vulnerability that proves that the person will break anyway if someone tries hard enough.
This Fae in front of him is beautiful.
A lot of Faes are beautiful, really. But the one in front of him has the kind of beauty which could not be articulated with words, not even the ones from the most ancient Fae languages.
Yoongi smiles now, all cold interest and curiosity. The pretty looking Fae might just be worth his time.
“Don’t have a name, Summer Fae?” Yoongi asks again when the Fae doesn’t answer.
“Jimin,” says the prisoner, “It’s Jimin.”
There is a lilt in his voice, like the sound of bells.
Yoongi grins at his honesty. How naïve.
“And what were you doing in the Unseelie Court, Jimin?”
Jimin tries to smile, as if making light of his situation, but it comes off as nervous, perhaps even a bit fearful. The defiance in his eyes remain, however, and he keeps them trained on Yoongi’s. “Oh, just for a stroll,” he says casually, “I like the cold every now and then.”
Yoongi returns the grin, his teeth showing. “Well, unfortunately, you’re going to get executed just for strolling. You know the rules, Jimin. The Courts do not enter each other’s territories without permission.”
Jimins eyes darken but he remains smiling. “You did have a rather nice welcoming committee. Even though beating someone up isn’t usually welcoming but hey, to each their own.”
To his own surprise, Yoongi laughs at that. It is no more than a chuckle, but it’s surprising because living in the Unseelie Court – forever cold and unforgiving – erases Yoongi’s any intention of laughing. There is nothing to be happy about here.
“You’re amusing,” Yoongi says at last.
“Thank you,” Jimin replies graciously.
“In fact…” Yoongi’s eyes begin to have a mischievous twinkle in them. “You’re so amusing, I’m going to make a deal with you.”
Jimin stills at that and his whole body immediately tenses. Deals with the Fae are nothing to make light about. Fae cannot lie; however, they love to engage in creative truth-telling. Deals with the Winter Fae, especially, usually ends up benefitting only one side rather than both.
“What sort of deal?” Jimin asks cautiously.
Yoongi leans in close; close enough that his cold breath washes over Jimin’s face through the metal bars as he speaks. It is cold, like the harsh winter breeze. Jimin shivers where he stands. “It’s such a shame to ruin such a pretty face,” Yoongi begins, “So I’m going to let you go.”
“But,” Yoongi continues after a pause, smiling wryly at Jimin’s guarded expression, “You’re going to visit me often.”
There is long, drawn pause. “Visit…you?” Jimin repeats uncertainly.
Yoongi nods. “We’ll meet in the Wyldwood territory. None of the Courts’ influence is in that place. Once a month, on the night of the full moon, we will meet there.”
The hunter’s grin widens, and Jimin thinks he is looking at an angel- an angel just seconds away from falling into the depths of hell.
“Because I like you,” Yoongi drawls, “You’ll keep me entertained.”
And Jimin somehow believes those words are true.
Yoongi lets him go.
And they meet in Wyldwood territory one full moon later, just as promised.
There is an arrow through the werewolf’s chest.
Its silvery eyes, wide with a flurry of emotions – shock, fear, anger -, glares at Yoongi for half a second, as if wanting to have the last word even in its defeat, before its eyeballs roll up, and it collapses to the ground.
“Looks like he’s dead,” comments Jungkook from his spot on the tree branch. He has been lazily watching the scene below him, making no moves to help his parabatai.
“You’d know, now wouldn’t you?” Yoongi quips. There is a tiny gash on his cheek, blood slowly trickling from the wound. He wipes his cheek absently. “Get down here. Let’s go home.”
Jungkook smirks. “Bad mood, now are we?”
“Considering how unbearably long this night was, you couldn’t blame me for being in one,” Yoongi answers, crouching down to retie his laces. He hears a thud, and steadily approaching footsteps. By the time he stands up again, Jungkook is already by his side.
“Let’s get back,” Jungkook agrees, “With any luck, we might still have the chance to eat what’s left of Seokjin-hyung’s cooking.”
Yoongi makes a face. “You’re troubling him.”
“No, I don’t.” Jungkook wraps his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, laughing. “Come on, come on! I’m starving.”
Yoongi stuffs his hands in his pants’ pocket as he walks. “I wish something interesting happens every now and then. Killing rogue Downworlders is really starting to lose its appeal,” he mumbles. His parabatai turns to him and gives him a wicked grin.
“Patience, hyung. It’ll happen,” he promises.
In fact, it does happen. Exactly two weeks later, the boys receive orders from the local Enclave to investigate a series of demonic activity located at the southern Seoul, where the High Warlock of Seoul, Jimin, resides. Looking at each other curiously, the two Shadowhunters shrug and proceed to continue on with the mission.
They hardly deal with warlocks anyway. Especially the High Warlock who’s known for his elusiveness from the mundane world. The Enclave never has any problem with Jimin and the shadow world hardly hears any news of him. Some think he’s dead but in reality, he’s just keeping a really, really, really low profile.
“Maybe he finally snapped and decided to call upon the demons just for the fun of it,” Jungkook guesses as he chews his gum, “Living a secluded life like that can’t be the most interesting thing to do.”
“He prefers that kind of life, away from prying eyes,” says Yoongi, kicking a pebble. It bounces off the metal gate of the old church, where Jimin resides. The boys look at the building apprehensively. The abandoned church looks the same way as it usually does; broken gate, vines scaling the wall and fading paint. How Jimin lives such in a depressing-looking place Yoongi doesn’t even know.
“Do you think it’s glamour?” Jungkook asks, typing away on his phone – probably answering a text from his werewolf friend, Taehyung -, “I mean, I wouldn’t like to live in such a dump.”
“Could be,” Yoongi shrugs. The boys walk into the courtyard, taking in its messy state. The front door – a pair of massive oak doors that look like they should belong in a castle rather than a church – is, surprisingly, unlocked. When they peer closer, a figure is seen leaning against the wall inside the church.
“Hello,” says the figure. It walks over to them and in the light, Yoongi could easily tell who it is.
Jimin, the High Warlock himself.
“High Warlock,” Jungkook begins, straightening his posture, his voice authorative, “We need to talk.”
Jimin smiles calmly. “Yes, the Clave did mention that yesterday.”
Jungkook looks confused. “The Clave came to see you?”
Jimin waves his hand dismissively. “Of course not. They sent me a message to expect two young shadowhunters who want to investigate the place I live.” His silvery eyes, slitted like those of a snake – his warlock mark along with his talon nails – focus on Yoongi’s face with interest. “Though they failed to mention that there’s a very handsome boy from one of them.”
Yoongi, despite his better judgment, blinks. Beside him, Jungkook coughs.
“We don’t have time for your flattery,” Jungkook says, “And insult,” he adds underneath his breath. One of them? And judging from the way Jimin is not so subtly eyeing his parabatai, he could only guess that he’s the one being excluded. Jimin glances at Jungkook and gives him a serene smile.
That motherfuc –
“High Warlock, we really need to talk,” Yoongi says, interrupting Jungkook’s train of your thoughts. “There’s been-,”
“Suspicious demon activity originating from here, I know, I know,” Jimin cuts him off, “Before you say anything, I didn’t do anything. I rather enjoy my peace and I wouldn’t like to destroy that by breaking the rules of the Accords, now would I?”
“Why don’t you come on in?” Jimin gestures to the church behind him, “I’ll be happy to answer any questions, especially if you’re asking them.” He winks at Yoongi. Yoongi blinks again, and splutters where he stands, clearly lost for words. Beside him, Jungkook rolls his eyes so hard he might as well see the back of his skull.
“By the Angel, help me,” he mutters, earning a smack from Yoongi.
Yoongi stares at Jimin with apprehension for a moment and Jimin just smiles calmly –if not a little slyly – as he does. He sighs. There’s nothing suspicious about the warlock at all. At least, on the surface.
“Thanks,” says Yoongi, “We’ll make ourselves at home.” And he walks past Jimin, not looking at the pleased expression on the High Warlock’s face.
“We’re investigating, you know,” Jungkook reminds Jimin as he climbs the steps, “Nothing to be happy about.” He might have sounded a bit wounded, but that’s probably just him.
“Of course,” Jimin purrs but his eyes never left Yoongi anyway.
Yoongi pretends not to notice.
Jungkook pretends not to gag.
(He failed miserably.)
In the end, the investigation goes nowhere and the two shadowhunters are forced to report to the Clave that there’s nothing going on with the High Warlock and the rumors heard are just that; rumors. However,
“Hyung,” Jungkook demands, tapping his boot as he stares at Yoongi. “Why do you have the warlock’s number?
“For communication purposes. Work,” Yoongi insists upon looking at Jungkook’s disbelieving expression.
Oh well, if Jungkook doesn’t believe him then screw it.
Yoongi scored himself a date, anway.
“- here we have South Korean’s renowned rapper, Suga!” The MC, a handsome young man who is around Yoongi’s age who goes by the name Kim Namjoon, grins at him, and pats his arm. “You weren’t kidding when you said your specialty is making people scream.”
“Ah…what do I do? That sounds so wrong in so many levels,” Yoongi deadpans, earning a laugh from the audience
“You got me there,” Namjoon chuckles. “You’ve achieved so much, man. And you’re only…what? 20?”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Namjoon teases. “Your album has been doing incredibly well on the mainstream charts, hasn’t it? Which is quite uncommon for a pure hip-hop album. How do you feel about that?”
Yoongi leans back against the sofa. “Honestly, taken aback. I mean…how else am I supposed to feel? Seeing that number beside my album, I’m honestly…” He lets out a breath. “It’s an incredible feeling. And I’m so grateful to my fans for their love and support.” He turns towards the audience, flashing his signature gummy smile. “You guys are the best.”
More screams. Namjoon laughs, shaking his head.
“You gotta tone it down, man. These people are gonna lose their voices soon,” he says with a smile.
“I’ll take responsibility,” Yoongi answers solemnly.
Of course, more screams ensued. Namjoon could only smile.
“Anyway,” he continues, turning towards the audience “I think the audience is itching to ask you questions. Are you ready for them, Yoongi-ssi?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Alright, then!” He looks at the crowd, which mainly consists of girls with their hands high up in the air, eager to be picked. The host pretends to be in deep thought until his gaze settles on someone sitting at the back row, whose hand is lifted only halfway in the air. The person looks shy.
“Why about you, over there at the back row?” Namjoon calls out, “The boy with the blonde hair!”
The said boy looks surprised to be picked and hesitates. He bites his lips and ducks his head when everyone turns to him. His cheeks are bright red. Yoongi cranes his neck to see who it is.
“Come on, don’t be shy,” Namjoon coaxes, “Yoongi-ssi doesn’t literally spit fire.”
The boy looks at Yoongi. From the distance, Yoongi cannot see his face clearly but he offers the boy an encouraging smile, anyway. The boy smiles shyly back and stands up.
“Alright! Come on down here and ask your question,” says Namjoon.
The boy climbs down the podium steps and as he gets nearer, Yoongi guesses that the boy is at least a few years younger. He has a cute, youthful face with bright brown eyes eyes which settles on Yoongi’s face with some sort of apprehension. He offers a wave and the boy smiles again.
Up close, it’s actually pretty dazzling to look at.
“What’s your name?” Yoongi asks.
The boy ducks his head slightly. “Um… it’s…Jimin. Park Jimin.”
Park Jimin. A pretty name for a beautiful boy. “What would you like to ask me, Jimin-ssi?”
Jimin looks delighted to be addressed, his cheeks flushing prettily. “Um… actually, I don’t really have a question,” he admits, “I just want to say something to you,” he says shyly.
“What is it?”
Yoongi watches as Jimin fidgets on his feet. “I…wanted to thank you, actually.”
“Thank me?” Yoongi repeats.
Jimin nods slowly. “I mean, I like to sing, too but I’m... I’ve never been really good with people so I don’t sing in public often. Like you,” he looks at Yoongi hesitantly, “I-I mean…I read it in an interview? In this one…um, magazine,” he splutters when he realizes Yoongi never mentioned this fact on the show. “It’s…true, right?”
Yoongi half-smiles. “It’s true.”
Jimin looks relieved, before exhaling. “Seeing you overcoming your courage and perform in public and doing so well, it made me realize…” Jimin shyly looks at Yoongi properly. “That I needed to be brave to achieve my dreams.” He’s smiling, now, a little bit more confidently. “D’you know I want to be a singer? Like you. Or be in the performance industry, at least. I want to stand on stage and sing my heart out and listen to the crowd as they cheer me on.”
He takes another deep breath and looks at Yoongi straight in the eye. “You inspired me to be…all that. And I wanted to thank you.”
Yoongi doesn’t know what to say after that.
He realizes detachedly that Namjoon is talking (“Aww, how touching!”) and pats Yoongi on the shoulder and the audience is cooing because Jimin does really look cute when he’s fidgeting due to embarrassment and –
“I-,” Yoongi begins, his voice suddenly loud – too loud- and everyone turns to him. Jimin tilts his head to his direction and Yoongi could see him holding his breath, like he’s worried yet curious about what Yoongi has to say.
“I mean,” Yoongi tries again, “I…there’s nothing you need to thank me for- I mean. I-,” Well, this is harder than it looks. How does one do this, speaking in public? Yoongi takes a deep breath. “I’m just a normal guy, Jimin. There’s nothing special about me at all and listening to you…thanking me like I did something absolutely amazing….it’s a bit overwhelming.”
Jimin’s face falls, and oh god it looks so heartbreaking, and Yoongi realizes how that must have sounded to Jimin. “Not that I don’t appreciate it!” he adds quickly, “It’s just… I’m as scared as you are, Jimin. I’m not courageous or brave. I’m actually the biggest coward you’ll ever know. Do you know that I get nervous, I mean, really nervous with all the heavy breathing and cold sweat, before every single show? It doesn’t get easier but I love what I do so I try to get used to it. In the end…” He looks at Jimin. “I guess what matters most is that the audience enjoyed it and if I managed to inspire one soul from the crowds of thousands, then…” he smiles at Jimin, “I’m glad.”
There is a pause. Jimin is staring at him open-mouthed and eyes wide. The shocked expression slowly morphs into a shy delighted one and Jimin rubs his neck with some sort of awkwardness that Yoongi finds endearing. Namjoon is talking to Jimin now, grinning and shaking his hand and ushers Jimin back to his seat. Yoongi watches him go; watches the way Jimin couldn’t stop smiling even as he sits back down. He catches Yoongi looking at him and he turns away, his cheeks flaming.
A girl is chosen now. She walks up to Yoongi confidently and smiles at him shyly but brightly.
“If you were to write a song at this very second,” she asks, “What would it be about?”
Yoongi glances at Jimin in the crowd through the corner of his eyes.
“Um…well, that’s hard to think about. I don’t know,” Yoongi says with sheepish laugh, anyway.
But he does know. Of course he does.
It’s three weeks later when the girl gets her answer. Yoongi releases a new single for his next album. ‘Bravery’, he calls it. He says he’s proud of it.
Somewhere in the lyrics, he describes someone that sounds suspiciously like Jimin.
(Yoongi is 24.)
The smell of coffee is starting to make him sick in all honesty.
He supposes that’s the side effect of working overtime five days in a row. If his pay doesn’t reflect the amount of effort he put in his job despite the minimum wage he received, he’s gonna sue.
Or not. He doesn’t have the money for that, anyway.
He ducks his head, sighing loudly.
“Whoa there. Did someone murder your dog or something?”
“Cut the crap, Hoseok.” Yoongi lifts his head to glare at his friend, but Hoseok merely gives him a dimpled smile in return. His glare never works on him, anyway. Not even once in their 10 years of friendship.
Hoseok pats him on the back. “Hey, it’s your day off tomorrow. And I get off early, too. Wanna go somewhere?”
“I don’t know,” Hoseok shrugs. “Get some cheap beer and walk along the Han river or something?”
“Jesus Christ. Hoseok,” Yoongi lightly smacks his friend’s shoulder. “It’s fucking freezing outside.”
“Or get some cheap beer and take cover at some random internet café, I don’t know.” Hoseok crosses his arms. “It’s better than that dump you call an apartment.”
“That dump is the only thing I can afford, you jackass.”
“I offered you a place at mine!”
“And deal with your screaming roommate 24/7? No thanks.”
“Taehyung just likes his games, okay?” They hear a voice – their manager – calling Hoseok’s name. “Alright!” he calls out. Hoseok turns back to Yoongi, squeezing his arm. “Just hang in there.”
Yoongi waves him off dismissively. “Go back to work.”
He sighs again, and walks over to the locker area. He unlocks his, opening the metal door to reveal a worn out red duffle bag. He rummages through it and fishes out a tiny notebook, its cover already faded and peeling around the edges. There are dog-eared pages, and one is even torn in half. Yoongi quickly flips to the bookmarked one.
Mixtape release budget
Earnings so far: 100,000 KRW.
Yoongi takes out his pen from his shirt pocket and scribbles onto the page.
Monthly rent due: 30/5/2017
Phone bill: Hoseok’s covering.
Food and stuff: 50, 000 KRW for a week.
He thinks of his pay, and wonders if he can afford adding up to his meagre savings. He groans. At this rate, he might even consider not eating just to save up to afford renting a music studio for a single day.
His dreams of releasing a proper mixtape is suddenly so much further.
“Well. Gotta get back to --,”
He feels a familiar tug, and the twist in his stomach. His vision is blurring. He is being pulled back.
“Fuck, no. Not now --,”
“Yoongi-hyung! The manager is looking for --,” Hoseok stops in his tracks. He furrows his brows and looks around. “Hyung?”
The staff lounge is empty, aside from a pen lying on the floor in front of Yoongi’s locker.
Yoongi lands face-first on the grass.
Fucking piece of –
He gets up to his feet quickly, and finally registers that he is soaking wet. He glares at the sky with as much heat as he could muster.
Of course, it had to rain.
He glances around, and sees himself not recognizing the place he is in. When he sees a sign in Korean, he breathes a sigh of relief.
At least he’s in the same country. Could’ve been worse.
No need to repeat the Switzerland incident. Nope.
He walks around, dusting off his uniform every now and then, before his gaze lands on a house. He glances around, and shrugs. Might as well get some shelter before time pulls him back again. He runs towards the house, stepping onto the porch. He shakes his hair, droplets of rain dripping off from the strands of his hair.
He is shivering, his clothes already soaked through and he huddles himself into a small ball and closes his eyes, waiting to be returned to the present.
“Who are you?”
Yoongi opens his eyes and comes face to face with a small boy peering down at him from the window. He looks about four and his dark hair keeps on falling over his eyes. His face is half-covered by a teddy bear.
“Ah, sorry,” Yoongi gets up, “It’s raining and I needed shelter so-,”
“Jimin, who are you talking to?” a woman asks from the inside.
The boy’s name is Jimin. How fitting.
Yoongi puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head. Little Jimin blinks at him with wide eyes and nods ever so slowly. “Just Teddy, mommy,” he calls out, looking behind him. Jimin hears the woman mumbling something and Jimin nods at whatever she says before turning to Yoongi once more.
“What’s your name, mister?” he asks.
“Yoongi,” Jimin answers.
Jimin beams. “I’m Jimin.”
Yoongi smiles back. “I know.” He shivers. Jimin notices.
“Are you cold?” he asks again.
“Just a bit,” Yoongi admits, “H-hey,” he says, eyes wide when he sees Jimin trying to climb out the window, “What are you doing?”
Jimin does not answer and simply climbs clumsily over the ledge. Yoongi is about to catch him before he falls to the floor when Jimin unexpected launches himself onto Yoongi, causing him to stumble back, his arms automatically wrapping itself around Jimin’s tiny frame.
“Ya-!” Yoongi splutters and quiets down in surprise as Jimin wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck and snuggles into his chest. Jimin is hugging him.
“Mommy says a good hug can make you feel warm,” Jimin whispers, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt.
Yoongi has nothing to say to that.
He stands there awkwardly for a few minutes, with a four-year-old in his arms. What does one do in this situation?
He lets out a breath and tightens his hold on Jimin. The boy is right about one thing, though. Yoongi does feel warmer.
Jimin falls asleep somewhere in between and when he wakes up, he is lying on the bench on the porch with a jacket on top of him. It looks like the one Yoongi wears.
Yoongi visits him again from time to time. They’re always at different ages. Jimin keeps the jacket with him always. He keeps it locked in his wardrobe and takes it out when Yoongi visits (there are times when he’s older than him, there are time when he’s younger) or when he feels cold.
He keeps it with him when they eventually got married (Jimin is 24 and Yoongi is 26, finally meeting at the same time and year). He keeps it with him when they adopt their first child (a girl named Haneul with eyes like Yoongi’s and a smile as wide as Jimin’s). He keeps it with him when other versions of Yoongi visits him when his Yoongi is out.
He keeps it with him always.
Even more so when Yoongi dies of throat cancer – a cruel end to his dream as a successful rapper -- Jimin never lets go of the jacket, even after 20 years Yoongi is gone.
It is summer. Jimin is in his 50’s and is sitting on the porch, watching his grandsons playing with each other. Yoongi’s jacket, now fraying and losing its color, is on his lap and Jimin plays with the material absently. He is about to doze off when he hears JiHyun, the elder of his two grandsons, crying out.
“Grandpa!” he cries, “Isn’t that-,”
And Jimin sits up, then. He peers into the distance. There is a figure coming closer to them. He seems to be a man in his early 30’s, wearing clothes that is obviously not from this time. His eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun. His smile remains the same.
Jimin couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Yoongi,” he breathes.
To say that he’s not disappointed is a fucking lie.
He cried when he finds out he’s not chosen. Of course, he’s disappointed.
Jimin splashes water onto his face, hoping to reduce the redness in his eyes. He takes a deep shuddering breath. He looks at himself in the mirror. God, he looks awful. He sighs, as if everything in the world is against him.
“Whatever,” he mutters at last. If the judges for this entertainment company don’t like him, there’s nothing he could do about it. He’ll find another one. Maybe that small company called BigHit from across the street. Who knows? Whatever.
He fixes his appearance a little bit more and when he’s satisfied that his eyes don’t look swollen anymore, he turns to walk out of the bathroom.
And bumps into a guy.
"Sorry,” he says, meeting the guy’s gaze. And freezes.
The guy is smiling slightly, his eyes twinkling. His dark hair falls over his left eye and he reaches up to brush it away. “S’okay,” he says, “Accidents happen.”
“Um,” is all Jimin could say.
The guy raises his eyebrow. “Are you auditioning for this company?” he asks.
Jimin, bless him, recovers fast enough to answer. “Were, actually. I didn’t get picked.” His tone sounds miserable, even to him. The guy gives him a sympathetic smile. “Oh… um, I’m sorry then,” he answers awkwardly.
Jimin shakes his head. “Don’t be. I’m fine.” He sighs deeply. “Just isn’t fate, I guess.” He offers the guy a tiny smile. “What about you?”
The guy laughs. “I’m just here for a friend. I am planning to audition for BigHit, though.”
Jimin raises his eyebrows.
“Why BigHit?” he couldn’t help but ask.
The guy shrugs. “I heard they’re putting together a hip hop group. And I like to rap. So I thought…why not? What’s there to lose?”
There’s logic in that, Jimin supposes.
“Well…” Jimin stuffs his hands in his jeans pocket, “Break a leg…” he trails off, not knowing the guy’s name.
“Yoongi. Min Yoongi,” says Yoongi with a gummy smile.
Jimin grins back. “Park Jimin. Break a leg, Yoongi-ssi.”
And that is that. The two boys don’t meet again and Jimin thinks he probably never will. At least, that’s what he thinks.
Until he passes BigHit’s building on his way home, and sure enough, sees an advertisement for an audition. He pauses.
Yoongi’s face flashes in his mind.
Jimin bites his lip. He supposes…it is worth a try, right?
What does he have to lose?
“I can’t believe we’ve been chosen!” Taehyung, a boy Jimin meets on the day of his audition, gushes later on. Hoseok is still screaming excitedly into his phone and Seokjin looks like he’s on the verge of happy crying again. Jungkook sits numbly on the sofa, still processing what happened, his expression filled with disbelief. Namjoon, one of the trainees from BigHit who was also chosen to be part of the company’s upcoming group, pulls Jimin into a hug which the boy gladly returns.
His eyes lock with Yoongi’s.
“Yeah,” Jimin agrees, belatedly responding to Taehyung, “Me neither.”