Actions

Work Header

F R A C T U R E

Chapter Text

 YOONGI

“Yah, yah!” Yoongi called over his shoulder. “Yah!” He shouted again when no one responded to him, he tore his eyes away from his screen to look back at the room behind him, he found it annoyingly empty, the three occupants who had recently been sitting around the table had at some point vacated.

Apparently, he had been so involved in what he had been doing that he had completely missed them leaving.

“Fuck,” he muttered quietly pushing himself up from the battered office chair he’d been sitting in. He trudged across the room to the beaded curtain that separated their back room from the laundry service beyond.

He found both Hoseok and Hyunah bent over the incredibly old arcade game that stood in the corner.
They were cursing at it, violently hammering the buttons.

The machine had been in the store since they had rented the rooms behind it, and for the past six years they had come in and out of intense phases of interest with it. It always went the same way, when they first moved in, they had tried desperately to keep beating each other; the bets getting more and more outrageous as they went along. Yoongi had ended up with many idiotic tattoo’s because of that stupid game. But when they had gotten as good as was possible, they had abandoned it. Until one night probably after a few drinks, they had decided to try and beat it again, and the cycle would begin anew.

“Yah!” He called, standing in the doorway, pressing the beads to the side, “Am I interrupting?”

“Yep.” Hoseok grunted, not looking away from the screen.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, watching the two of them battle it out, against his will he felt his interest rising and took a few steps closer to the machine, bowing slightly to the ahjumma who was tutting at them as she collected her laundry off a rack.

Hyunah was winning, which explained Hoseok’s determination to not look away from the cracked screen.

Hoseok was repetitively hissing ‘fuck,’ as Hyunah blocked and countered his every hit, pushing his flat character back and back, the green in his life bar slowly dropping down to orange, and inevitably to red.

As she delivered the fatal blow Hyunah shouted, “Yes!” and pushed herself back from the machine her hands in the air, earning herself a very audible scoff of disgust from the woman behind them, shaking her head over the plastic garment bags filling her arms.

The string of profanities that followed from Hoseok’s mouth did nothing to help, and with a grin Yoongi ushered them back into the apartment, Hyunah still celebrating, pushing Hoseok along mockingly.

“—you’re just not enough of a man, Hoseok-ah,” she laughed, dropping back down beside the low table, crossing her legs easily.

“Not enough of a man!” Hoseok exclaimed, “No, you just have smaller fingers, it’s because my fingers are too manly, I can’t hit the buttons fast enough!”

“What are you talking about, look at your hands, they’re so beautiful and slender,” Hyunah mocked, taking Hoseok’s hand in hers to examine his truly very feminine fingers.

“Fuck off!” Hoseok snarled snatching his hand back.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Yoongi chuckled, “Listen, if either of you care, I finally finished.”

“Oh? Really?” Hyunah said quickly, standing up again to follow him over to the frankly outrageous setup of monitors with their vast cooling system. “You didn’t even need me,” she said disbelievingly.

“I am capable you know, I’ve been doing this for a long time,” Yoongi frowned, pulling up his recent finds.

“Of course,” she nodded, patting him condescendingly.

“Just look!” he snapped, gesturing at the screen.

“Huh? Is that the ID?” Hoseok asked, frowning, looking at the meaningless mess of text on the screen.

“Yeah, once it’s all decrypted,” Yoongi grinned, looking back at his friend.

“Well, move over, that’s my job,” Hyunah smiled, rubbing her hands together mischievously, “let me turn this into an identity for you.”

Yoongi clapped happily, stepping away from the chair to let Hyunah drop into it.

The plan had been in the works for weeks, and they stood to make a lot of money out of it; more money than any of them had ever seen before.

“Where did Taehyung-ie go?” Yoongi asked, sitting down at their table, pulling a banana over to himself.

“Work,” Hoseok shrugged, with a slight look of distaste on his face.

“Which reminds me, should we go over there?”

“Hmm?” Hoseok asked, looking up from his phone.

“To have a word with the manager?” Yoongi continued.

“Ohh, yeah we should,” Hoseok nodded, “We could do that now, while noona works on…whatever that is.”

“You feel a bit useless don’t you,” Yoongi smiled with a raised eyebrow.

“Wow!” Hoseok scowled, though his face changed immediately as he put on a pout, “Unnie,” he whined to Yoongi, “Don’t tease me.”

Which earned a hard kick and a quiet profanity from Yoongi and much laughter on the behalf of Hoseok.

“You were the one that said that we should try and scare Taehyung-ie’s manager, didn’t you?” Hoseok pressed. Yoongi nodded, having another bite of his banana, “Well then, don’t be an ass and let’s go do that instead of sitting here doing nothing.”

“You feel useless,” Yoongi repeated with a snigger.

“I’m losing my mind,” Hoseok muttered shaking his head to renewed laughter from Yoongi.

“Okay, okay, let’s go,” Yoongi finally said clambering to his feet, dropping the banana peel carelessly in an abandoned cup of ramyun.

“Thank you,” Hoseok snapped, dragging his oversized bomber jacket towards him, pulling it over his skinny arms.

Hoseok made a concerted effort to appear tougher than he actually was; the jacket in place he slid on a black cap, pushing his pink hair away from his face, making his features seem far more severe than they had a moment ago.

“Ooooh, Hoseok-ah,” Hyunah crowed from the computers, “Fire!”

“Hmm?” Hoseok asked, looking down at himself, his eyes flicking up to Yoongi to confirm if Hyunah was teasing him or not. Yoongi who was not known for getting people out of shit, just shrugged, and let Hoseok struggle under the compliment.

“Thanks,” he settled on uncertainly, slapping on a black face mask. “Hyung, are we going,” he urged, shepherding the shorter man out through the beaded curtain. “That was weird right? Since when does that noona ever compliment me?”

“Maybe she’s in a good mood after defeating you so thoroughly?” Yoongi suggested adjusting the bucket hat he was wearing so that it covered his eyes, his voice muffled by his own face mask.

“I let her win,” Hoseok snapped.

“Hoseok-ah, I don’t believe that even slightly, don’t try and lie, it’s a bad look on you.”

“Even if I was telling the truth you’d never fucking believe me,” Hoseok cursed, stomping along beside Yoongi.

“It’s hard for me to disprove what I’ve seen with my eyes, and you definitely didn’t lose on purpose,” Yoongi countered as they both turned abruptly, and started to jog down the steps between the buildings that separated one street from the next.

They took the fastest route to Hannam station, their apartment was about a fifteen minute walk away, but by making smart choices and knowing which buildings you could easily get through, they could manage it in just over five.

They stood close on the subway, the incredibly smooth ten minute ride to Hongdae on the GJ line passing quickly.

“So what are we gonna do?” Hoseok asked, “If we actually hit him, we’d probably drop Taehyung in it?”

“Nah, I think we should just… ask to speak with him?” Yoongi suggested.

“That’s only the first step, what do we do next?”

“Just scare him a bit, you know? Taehyung-ie said he’s a fairly young guy, it should be easy enough; the two of us,” Yoongi shrugged, gesturing between them.

They did look a little unsettling, with their overlarge clothes and obscured faces, add to that the messy stick and poke tattoo’s that covered Yoongi’s hands, they painted an imposing picture. They had done this numerous times before, though it had been a while, Yoongi figured they'd just go with the usual formation.

“Problem is, the manager doesn’t run the club,” Hoseok pointed out sagely.

“Obviously, but if we get the manager to start looking out for Taehyung, taking a few hits for him with the owner, then life will be better for everyone.”

“True,” Hoseok nodded, going back to inspecting the pattern of an ahjumma’s wheelie bag.

“Should we eat after this?” Yoongi asked as they emerged once again into the grey light of of Seoul in October.

“Yeah, what do you want?” Hoseok asked, matching step beside Yoongi; who had distinctly shorter legs.

“Jjajangmyeon? Tangsuyuk?”

“So, Chinese?” Hoseok laughed.

“Yeah maybe. I want something really delicious and greasy.”

Hongdae was a very trendy area, made notable by the universities in it’s proximity. It was much nicer than their corner of Yongsan-gu that was for sure, and the clubs and bars were far more upmarket than the DJ booths cramped into soup shops, and underground noraebang parlours with leaky ceilings that they were used to in their neighbourhood.

However, what made this area appealing as a worker at a gay host bar, was the fact that the largest demographic was wealthy and attractive young men, who were generally weak and pleasant. Initially Taehyung had gotten a place at a host bar in Gangnam, on the outskirts of Yeoksam. It had paid extremely well, but old drunk businessmen were much less easy to contend with than shy liberal arts types.

However it seemed that recently, the host bar, White Lotus, had been branching out their marketing, and suddenly there had been an influx of really unpleasant clients.

The final straw had been when Hyunah had walked in on Taehyung crying in the bathroom, nursing a bruised wrist and a bloody lip. After some prodding, she had learnt that it had happened because he had refused to let the client touch his cock.

If the manager wasn’t going to do anything about it, then Hoseok and Yoongi had decided that they would.

Taehyung hadn’t told them anything about it, he had passed the split lip off as the byproduct of a very casual fight he had had while out on Friday, and Yoongi hadn’t thought to question it. He couldn’t remember Friday very well, but he didn’t remember Taehyung being with them the whole time, so it was completely possibly that he had stumbled off and got himself into a fight.

However, after a few days, Hyunah had eventually confided what she had seen to Hoseok who had passed it on to Yoongi.

Trying very hard to control his fury, Yoongi had decided that he and Taehyung needed to go and eat. They had left Hyunah and Hoseok at the apartment, working on some malicious software they were going to need to bug the server that was going to get him his precious ID, Yoongi giving Taehyung very little choice but to follow.

They had braved the cold, sheltering under overlarge coats, and with hoods pulled up, had run through the rain down the street to the little jjigae kitchen. It sold huge bowls and unlimited side dishes for only 2500 won; Yoongi wouldn’t go anywhere else, frugal to the last.

Taehyung had seemed a little confused about why only he and Yoongi had come to eat; it wasn’t that Taehyung and Yoongi weren’t close, they were, but even after all they’d been through together, they tended to only interact within their group.

If they were alone, conversation tended to get stilted; he wasn’t sure what there was between he and Taehyung that was stopping them from being comfortable. Though Yoongi suspected that, with everything he knew about the man, Taehyung still felt ashamed at how they’d met.

There was a second, more deep seated reason that Yoongi tended to avoid being around Taehyung alone; but it was one that he didn’t really like admitting even to himself.

He had endured a lot of winks and sly comments off their friends when Taehyung had moved in with them; basically, boiling down to the fact that it was inevitable that Yoongi and Taehyung were going to hook up at some point. In fact, Taehyung was about the last person in their small queer circle, that Yoongi had not fucked around with at some point.

He liked it that way, there was too much history between he and Taehyung, too much that none of their vapid friends knew about.

They had sat in silence for a few minutes after Taehyung’s groaned exclamation of—

“Ahh this looks so good!” As he had picked up a spoon and started slurping, bowing to the ahjumma who had brought their meals. People just seemed to love Taehyung, he had the sort of charm that made people want to care for him; and the ahjumma smiled at him fondly.

Yoongi had none of that charm, and undoubtedly if he had bothered to look up from the bowl, he would have found the ahjumma fixing him with a dirty look, since all he had given her was a grumbled ‘thanks.’

“Hyung?” Taehyung had said eventually once he had inhaled half of his bucket sized bowl, and two trays of rice, each spoonful pilled with banchan.

“Yeah?” Yoongi asked.

He had known what Taehyung was implying from the quiet tone alone. He wanted to know why Yoongi had brought him out by himself, and what was going on, but he wasn’t going to supply the reason, he wanted Taehyung to get there himself.

“Did noona…she told you right?” Taehyung asked finally, breaking the silence between them.

“She did,” Yoongi nodded, “I wanted to talk to you first, but me and Hoseok are gonna go and talk to your manager.”

“Hyung, you can’t!” Taehyung had protested.

It had taken a good deal of convincing, and grand statements of duty; that Taehyung was Yoongi’s dongsaeng and he was responsible for him.

At the end of the day, Yoongi didn’t like Taehyung working at the host bar, but if he was going to, Yoongi was going to make sure that the cunts in management were keeping to their contracts.

Taehyung was there to serve drinks, talk, sing and whatever the fuck else, but he wasn’t a rent boy. There were places you could go for shit like that, and it wasn’t a host bar in Hongdae.

As they had discussed on the walk, Yoongi and Hoseok went in through the back. It wasn’t easy to get to, the bar and a seafood restaurant shared a kitchen between them; you had to go through the front of the restaurant at one side, battle your way through the kitchen, avoiding the eyes of the staff, and into the back of the bar.

Yoongi had no idea who he was looking for, and he had only been to Taehyung’s work a few times. That was enough, however, for him to know that he hated the shit bamboo patterned wallpaper, the garish overblown images of white lotus’ that broke up the pattern.

He hated the shiny black floor and the hot pink doors.

He didn’t exactly know why, he’d been in worse places, with worse people, and had a fine time; but he really did hate it.

Hoseok nudged him, nodding down the hall at a young guy who had just appeared, he wasn’t the manager thought, that much was almost certain. He was handsome, in a smug sort of way, with high cheek bones and double eyelids. Yoongi could tell by the way his jeans fit him and how sheer his shirt was, that he was definitely a host.

“Hey!” Yoongi called down at him, the man startled and spun to face the barked voice, “Where’s your manager?” Yoongi spat, not giving the man much room to refuse him.

“He’s…there,” he said pointing at the door at the very end of the hall.

“Thank you,” Hoseok drawled lazily as they passed the guy who had pressed himself back against the wall a little to avoid them both.

Yoongi stood in front of the pink painted wood and wondered if he should knock, was he going to bow as he entered? No, he was just going to walk in and simply state why he was there, that was probably easiest.

It probably wouldn’t be that complicated, he knew he was quite intimidating.

Many people had told him that he had a permanently filthy look in his eyes, like he was a second from hitting the person in front of him, even when that person was someone he cared about very much. There was again, the matter of the tattoo’s, which he had been accumulating since his discharge from the army six years ago.

Many of them fell in places that were impossible to hide without the use of gloves or a high collar, they gave him an added edge without him even having to open his mouth.

He pulled off his face mask and shoved it in his pocket, looking over at Hoseok, giving him a small nod before he pushed the door open.

The manager, if that was in fact who he was looking at, was sitting at the table of an empty booth, perched on the pink cushioned seats, his phone in hand, books in front of him, clearly working out finances.

“Hello?” he asked politely, “Can I help?”

“Mmm,” Yoongi nodded, sitting down in the booth next to him, Hoseok taking the other side, still masked, his eyes glinting. “We wanted a word,” Yoongi continued.

“Who are you, do we… owe you money?” The manager asked, his eyes going wide.

Taehyung was right, this guy was young, certainly younger than Yoongi and Hoseok, possibly even younger that Taehyung himself, Yoongi would have put him somewhere around twenty three.

“Not us, no,” Hoseok muttered. “We need to talk to you about your…moral conduct?” Hoseok looked up at Yoongi who nodded with an appreciative hum.

“Moral conduct—that’s good,” he agreed. “Yeah, your moral conduct. Look kid, I don’t know what your circumstances are, I don’t know what sort of corporate pressure your under, but you’ve been put in charge of these guys, and it’s your duty as a manager, and a man, to make sure they’re safe, right?” Yoongi asked, laying a supportive hand on the guys shoulder, trying not to laugh as he shrunk away from the touch, the dark messy ink on Yoongi’s fingers standing out in stark relief on his pale skin.

“Yes?” The manager said uncertainly.

“Yes,” Yoongi repeated for him with more surety, “so you need to do your job, if there’s a patron who for example tries to force himself on one of your hosts, what do you do?”

“I…I tell them to leave?” The manager replied.

“Yep,” Hoseok nodded, patting his forearm.

“What you don’t do, just as an example, is tell your hosts to just deal with it to get a bigger tip,” Yoongi continued, tightening his grip on the manager’s shoulder slightly. “Bottom line here, is don’t ask your hosts to do anything that isn’t in their contract,” Yoongi finished sternly.

“If they want to that’s on their heads, but do your fucking job kid, look after your workers,” Hoseok laughed brightly, his smile concealed behind the black mask, but yoongi could picture it perfectly.

“Who sent you?” The manager asked, looking between them.

“No one, we’re just a concerned party, we have our sources, so we’ll find out if your being a dick again,” Yoongi assured him.

“That’s all we came for though, have you got the point?” Hoseok asked, sliding back out of the booth, adjusting his cap and pulling his hood up.

“Yeah, yep, got it,” the manager said quickly.

“Why are you speaking informally,” Yoongi laughed, squeezing his shoulder one more time, before he slid out after Hoseok.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the manager said, standing to bow a full ninety degrees, the top of his hair brushing the books splayed on the table in front of him.

“I think that went well you know?” Hoseok said as they slipped back out through the kitchen, avoiding the CCTV.

“I think you’re right, we should eat,” Yoongi smiled.

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

“Noona!” Hoseok called, pushing back through the bead curtain dramatically, a few sealed bowls of jjajangmyeon tucked under his chin, “Here you go,” he grinned, dropping a bowl in front of Hyunah who was still hard at work, squinting at the computer monitors.

“Cheers, Hoseok-ah,” she mumbled, opening a new blank window her fingers a blur, code appearing in a continuous line as she typed.

“Are you wondering how Yoongi-hyung and I went?” He asked, dropping down to the table, pulling a cushion under his arse.

“Nope, I’m busy.”

“We did well,” Yoongi said, also appearing in their small apartment, sliding the door between them and the shop closed.

“Great, do you want to know about the ID?” She asked sharply finally looking up as Yoongi stepped in.

“Yeah, sorry, how’s it going?” Yoongi asked, dumping his food on the table, and coming to duck down behind Hyunah, his eyes scanning over the screens. “Are you programming decryption?” He asked.

Hyunah nodded, her eyes flicking from the program she was using as a base to the new code she was typing as they spoke.

“And it should get it all up and ready to go?”

“Very soon, if I get this right. You should probably start looking for your decoy,” she added.

“Come on, there’s plenty of time for that, besides, the decoy needs to be completely perfect if this is going to work alright? Things like this take time.”

“Fuck off,” Hyunah snapped, waving him away.

Yoongi shot her a dark look but dropped down to the table to eat his food anyway.

He pulled off his hat, scrubbing a hand over his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly, he had been up nearly all of the previous night, installing malicious software, re-routing IP’s throughout the whole damn world, managing to get all the data they were now in possession of without getting caught. He had then sifted for hours, finding the exact data he needed, and after their little trip to Hongdae, his exhaustion was beginning to set in.

“I should sleep after I eat,” he mumbled, grabbing mix matched chopsticks off the table in front of him, rubbing them on his pants to clean them.

“You look fucked, hyung” Hoseok nodded, leaning forward to look at Yoongi more closely. Yoongi clicked the chopsticks in his face, nearly catching his nose.

“Don’t look at me,” he muttered.

“Unnie, don’t be like that,” Hoseok whined, laughing into his sweet and sour pork.

“Shut up,” Yoongi muttered, before shovelling noodles into his mouth. He had never been a very tidy eater, and people had said his whole life that he ate incredibly well, that he made the food look more delicious. But really, he was just impatient, and tried to fit as much as he could in his mouth, barely stopping to taste it.

He finished his bowl and swiped it clean with one grimy finger, dropping it back on the table and letting himself flop back on the floor, his hands falling on his now bloated stomach.

“That was good,” he mumbled to himself, “I ate well.”

Hoseok snorted, shaking his head at his oldest friend who was now rubbing his stomach contentedly, his shirt pulled up for optimum effect.

“You should go and sleep, hyung,” Hoseok said, “You seem delirious.”

“Yeah, I feel pretty out of it,” Yoongi agreed, and rolled onto all fours, awkwardly getting to his feet, “Call me when you get it, noona,” he said as he passed Hyunah, who nodded but didn’t say anything.

He pulled the back door open and stomped out into their messy courtyard. The back of the shop was a converted hanok; the utility buildings and courtyard remaining of the old house.

He mounted the steps to the two rooms that sat to the side of it, sliding open the old fashioned hanji door to the one he shared with Hoseok.

Hoseok it seemed, had rolled up his mattress for him the day before and set it in the corner of the room, making the space seem slightly tidy, when really it was anything but.

Their combined clothes littered the floor, along with many empty bottles of beer and soju, which Hoseok had decided to line up against the wall. Beside the door was the incredibly full ashtray they used when they needed a cigarette at night. They would slide the door open a little and puff out of the crack, so they didn’t fill the room with smoke.

It stunk regardless, however, thanks to the fact that the ashtray lived inside now; it had kept filling with water, which had driven Hoseok insane.

With a sigh Yoongi pulled his bed roll over and flopped it out in front of him. He lifted his thin blanket around his shoulders and sank to the ground.

His head had barely hit the very thin pillow before he was already snoring, his face squished into an ugly expression as he slept.

He felt like he’d only been asleep for minutes, but suddenly he could hear something. He blinked his eyes open groggily and realised that the light had changed in the room, it was dark; definitely after five.

“…hyung,” came the voice again.

“What?” Yoongi mumbled, rolling over to bury his face back in his pillow.

“Hyung, can I come in?”

This time Yoongi recognised the voice as Taehyung.

“Yeah,” he grumbled in response, and listened to the sound of Taehyung climbing into the room; crawling awkwardly, trying to feel for sharp objects or obstructions.

The door slid closed again.

“Hyung, where are you?” Taehyung asked, his hands patting the floor trying to find Yoongi.

“Here,” Yoongi said, reaching out a hand to hit the floor next to his head so that Taehyung could follow the noise.

“Ahh,” Taehyung muttered, feeling his way over to Yoongi’s side. “Yoongi-hyung,” he started, “Thanks… for coming to the club,” he said awkwardly.

“What else should I have done?” Yoongi asked, reaching out for Taehyung’s hand. He managed to find it and laced their fingers together.

“You didn’t need to though,” Taehyung urged, “But you did, I still don’t know how to get used to…to having someone—,” he mumbled, clearly struggling to express his feelings. Yoongi, was equally uncomfortable with the sudden earnestness and decided to put an end to it.

“Come on Taehyung-ie,” he said, giving Taehyung’s arm a tug to pull him down onto the bed roll. “Was work better today?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s middle, patting his stomach.

For a few months after Taehyung had moved in, they had often found themselves laying like this. Due to some extenuating circumstances he had refused to sleep without Yoongi wrapped around his back. So, finding the position was almost second nature, though it had been a while since he’d found Taehyung in his bed.

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded.

“That’s what matters then, don’t worry about it,” Yoongi grumbled, his face pressed against Taehyung’s shoulder blades, sleep very quickly creeping its way back behind his eyes.

“Noona said you’ve nearly got the thing you were looking for, right?” Taehyung asked quietly.

“Mmm,” Yoongi agreed, his lids dropping easily, feeling much warmer now that there was a body next to his. Usually on nights like this he and Hoseok would put aside their pride and lay as close as they could while still maintaining Hoseok’s often fragile masculinity.

That wasn't as much of an issue with Taehyung.

Yet another reason Yoongi often found himself uncomfortable, he was always quietly aware that Taehyung felt very easy in his arms. And that was a situation he was never going to look at too closely.

“Hyung,” Taehyung said quietly after a while, shaking his shoulders a little to try and rouse Yoongi. “Hyung,” he tried again.

“What?” Yoongi mumbled around a yawn.

“Your phone is ringing,” Taehyung said, nodding at the beam of light that was now illuminating the small room.

“Oh, give it me,” Yoongi grumbled, opening the hand that was still resting against Taehyung’s stomach.

Taehyung passed it across, settling back against Yoongi’s chest.

“Yeah?” Yoongi asked as he answered.

“Yoongi-yah!” The voice said, drawing out the affectionate syllables.

“Mmmm?”

“Are you coming out tonight?”

Yoongi pulled the phone back from his ear to look at who was calling him, Kim Seokjin, of course.

“Yeah, hyung, I might,” Yoongi answered, rolling onto his back, displacing Taehyung. He rubbed at his eyes picking at the crusty residue that had collected in the corners.

“You should, we’re eating now, but then we’re singing, and then, probably Wang-jan?”

Wang-jan was a gay bar in Itaewon, there were many gay bars in Itaewon in fact, it was one of the district’s many charms, along with kebabs and cheap jjigae. Yoongi loved Itaewon, he preferred its griminess over the much more refined queer scene in Jongno-gu.

“I just woke up hyung, I’ll probably need an hour or two,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Sure, sure, we’ll still be out,” Seokjin agreed.

“Hyung, can I come?” Taehyung whispered in the darkness, his face only slightly illuminated by the phone which was pressed to Yoongi’s ear.

“Hyung, can Taehyung come?” Yoongi asked, knowing already what the answer would be, the gays loved Taehyung.

“Taehyung-ie! Of course! Everyone—“ Yoongi listened to the crackle as the phone was taken away from Seokjin’s ear slightly, and the sound of many voices, along with the ambient clinks and chinks of bowls and cutlery was made audible, “Taehyung-ie is coming too!” A resounding cheer went around whatever table Seokjin was sitting at, and Taehyung laughed, holding his cheeks to hide a nonexistent blush.

“Listen, text me locations,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Cheer up, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin called before Yoongi disconnected the call.

“I don’t know that I want to go out,” Yoongi groaned, stretching his arms and legs, arching his stomach up off the bed with an over loud groan, wincing as he felt the bones in his back crack ominously.

“I can’t go out without you hyung, they don’t like me as much,” Taehyung said sitting up, pouting slightly.

“Are you kidding, you’ve slept with half of them!”

“I haven’t slept with any of them!” Taehyung defended quickly.

“Fuck off!” Yoongi hissed, “Taehyung…I was in the room once, remember?” he said, rubbing his eyes again.

“Oh yeah, thought I could get away with that one,” Taehyung laughed shamelessly, ducking his head against Yoongi’s navel as he chuckled to himself.

Yoongi ruffled Taehyung’s long hair good naturedly, Taehyung was young still, when Yoongi was twenty-six, he was out every second night, bringing guys home at all hours, sometimes not even bothering to bring them home at all; when you’re twenty-six, a public toilet can seem as good as a bed.

But now at the ripe old age of twenty-eight, everything seemed a little more difficult, a little more tiring and just not worth it. He had other things to be doing, like making money, keeping all of them safe, and providing for his fucking saint of a mother.

“If we’re going out, I need to get ready,” Taehyung said suddenly.

“You’re already ready! You just came from work!”

Taehyung’s job obviously required him to look attractive, so Yoongi had no idea what he was talking about.

“I hate my work clothes,” Taehyung grumbled, looking down at the thin tank top he was wearing, which had been draped artfully across his tanned torso.

“They look pretty stupid,” Yoongi agreed, earning him a light slap on the thigh.

“You’re supposed to tell me how good I look, Yoongi-hyung.”

Yoongi sighed, “You look fine obviously, just the clothes aren’t…my style.”

“They’re not mine either, and they do absolutely nothing to keep me warm. Come back inside hyung?” Taehyung asked.

“Let me smoke first,” Yoongi said, pulling himself up and shuffling over to the door. He slid down against the wall next to it, cracking it open enough for him to fit his hand through.

He dug in the pocket the coat he was still wearing, retrieving a crumpled packet of cigarettes, he lit one with a groan, turning to blow the smoke outside.

“You can go inside if you want, Taehyung-ie,” Yoongi said, narrowing his eyes at the man sitting in the middle of his room, fiddling absently with his hair.

“Hmm? Nah, I’ll wait,” Taehyung shrugged, “What should I wear tonight?” He asked.

“Knowing those friends, less is more. What’s the smallest pair of shorts you have?” Yoongi asked seriously.

“Hyung!” Taehyung exclaimed.

“Sorry, serious answers only?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, it’s cold, wear something warm?”

Taehyung nodded, wrapping his arms around his long legs.

“Hyung,” he said after a moment, “I meant like, what sort of style?”

“Oh,” Yoongi hummed, “Well in that case, you really shouldn’t ask me, ask Hoseok, he’s better at that sort of shit.”

“Yeah but that hyung isn’t… I mean, I want to look good, for other guys, and I don’t think Hoseokie-hyung has any idea about that,” Taehyung pointed out.

“Come on,” Yoongi grumbled, “You think I know what other guys look for.”

“More of an idea than that hyung at least!” Taehyung laughed.

“Taehyung-ah, when was the last time you saw me with anyone?” Yoongi asked, having a deep draw on his cigarette, twirling it absentmindedly between his fingers.

“A while I guess.”

“Mmmm, I’m not exactly good at that…whole thing, much better at computers and shit.”

“We should try and find you someone, hyung!” Taehyung said suddenly.

“I think not,” Yoongi countered quickly, “I’m too busy right now.”

“Hyung, I meant like a one-night type thing,” Taehyung laughed, “you don’t need to marry the guy.”

“A one-night type thing? I share this room with Hoseok, I don’t think that would go down well,” Yoongi pointed out.

“But you used to bring guys back, right?” Taehyung asked curiously, leaning his chin on his knee.

“I suppose.”

“Well, what did Hoseok-hyung do then?”

“He’d take his bed roll inside,” Yoongi shrugged.

“He could do that again!” Taehyung said perking up a little.

“You could try Taehyung-ie, but I just don’t see it happening.”

Yoongi wasn’t very approachable, he was sullen and sour, he was intimidating and unpleasant to look at. He doubted very much that Taehyung’s dreams of finding love for him would come true.

“Don’t talk like that, we’re gonna go out, and it’s gonna be amazing,” Taehyung decided, standing up in one swift motion. “I think you underestimate your charm, hyung, you have that thing, like deep fried ice cream.”

“Huh?” Yoongi questioned, endlessly endeared by Taehyung’s often abstract explanations.

“Hard on the outside, sweet on the inside,” Taehyung smiled, almost visible in the light from the courtyard.

Yoongi sighed shaking his head, he felt incredibly middle aged, and not at all like delicious dessert items. He stubbed his cigarette, letting Taehyung pull him to his feet. “This will work out, it can be my thank you for helping at work,” Taehyung smiled, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s neck, looking down at the shorter man.

He shook his head, patting Taehyung briefly on the back before ducking out of his arms.

“Come on,” he grunted, sliding the door open, urging Taehyung out of it.

Taehyung disappeared into his own room with a grin on his face, the paper of the door lighting up with the warm glow from his lamp.

Yoongi chaffed his arms as he hopped back down into the courtyard and hurried across to the apartment, kicking off his shoes and sliding on his slippers quickly, closing the door behind him.

“How are you doing?”

Hyunah looked up, she seemed somehow invigorated.

“Very, very, good,” she grinned, turning back to the screen. “I’ve got everything; citizen identification, and national records; I’ve already set up dummy emails and applied for a few different credit cards. You were right though, this is a completely dead name, he didn’t even have an email address or a bank account, nothing,” she said with wide eyes. “How did you know?”

“I told you I can just see things sometimes, you never believe me,” Yoongi shrugged.

“That’s because it’s bullshit,” Hyunah said shaking her head, going back to organising files.

“It’s not,” Hoseok chimed in from where he was sitting, leaning against the wall watching the TV.

“It is,” Hyunah countered.

“Honestly, it’s from Jiwoo-ahjumeoni,” Hoseok said earnestly, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I admit that your eomma is a very gifted mudang, Yoongi-yah…and a total charlatan. The only gift you got from her, is the gift of convincing people to do stupid shit,” Hyunah grinned, leaning back happily in the office chair they had found on the side of the road.

“Don’t talk about my eomma,” Yoongi threw back.

In a way they were both right, Yoongi, though he didn’t like to dwell on it often, occasionally saw things he didn’t want to; and he had gotten that particular gift from his mother; just as he had gotten the information about the ID from her…but they didn’t need to know that, let them believe he'd had a vision.

“What are you watching?” He asked, dropping down beside Hoseok.

“Home shopping,” Hoseok grinned, looking back at the TV, where they were being sold pore packs by comedians in wigs.

“You gonna buy some?” Yoongi asked.

“Might do, my pores could use some help,” Hoseok said, rubbing his shiny nose, self-consciously.

Yoongi nodded in agreement, though it wasn’t as though he could talk, he treated his skin like trash, never washed it, he was pale, sallow, and grimy ninety percent of the time, the other ten percent he was just pale and sallow.

The door behind them slid open again and Taehyung lumbered in, carrying with him his vast cosmetics case, he trudged over to the other two men and dropped down next to them.

He looked at the television as he opened the case and started picking things out.

“Hyung,” he said, looking sideways at the two of them, “It’s 7:30…can I watch my drama?” He asked.

Yoongi was sure that Hoseok was planning on saying no, Hoseok loved to watch the shopping network, and this broadcast was genuinely quite funny, all the skits were landing and Yoongi had almost forgotten they were selling pore packs.

However, Hoseok sighed and handed the controller over to Taehyung who grinned, thanking them both profusely and changed it over quickly.

They sat and watched Taehyung take off the makeup he was already wearing, going through a whole skin care routine, before carefully applying a whole new layer, never once taking his eyes of the TV.

Yoongi didn’t think he’d actually looked at the screen once since Taehyung started, he was way more interesting then whatever shit was happening to the beautiful woman in the show.

He’d sat and watched Taehyung get ready many times, every time it was a joy, Yoongi always felt bad that he really couldn’t see that much of a difference between Taehyung’s bare face and his face after makeup. But that almost made it even more interesting, because it was like the products disappeared, there were so many of them, but they all disappeared as he applied them.

“Should we have drinks now?” Taehyung asked, looking across at Yoongi.

Yoongi grunted his approval, and watched Taehyung pull himself lithely to his feet. He was provided with a beer and leant back happily against the wall to drink it.

He enjoyed these times, when they were all together, the tiny heater keeping their small apartment bearable.

“You know, hyung—” Taehyung started, pausing for a mouthful, “—if you had a shower, you might be even more likely to pick up tonight.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Hoseok asked, turning to look back at the two men.

“Out with Seokjin-hyung,” Yoongi nodded.

“Ahhhh,” Hoseok smiled knowingly, “Is this the night, hyung, the night you finally send me back to the lounge?”

Yoongi didn’t bother answering, he just fixed Hoseok with a dirty look,

“I’m going to find hyung a man,” Taehyung grinned, fussing with his hair, “it’s my mission.”

“What will you do if you fail?” Hoseok asked, “Slap bet?”

“Slap bet!” Taehyung agreed, reaching out hand covered in hair product, to shake Hoseok’s.

Hoseok removed his fingers distastefully.

“You’re going to get slapped, Taehyung-ie,” Yoongi taunted.

“I don’t think I am, never before have I truly set my mind to trying to find you someone, but today is that day.”

Yoongi sighed, shaking his head, it had been a while, sure, but he really didn’t need sex to get by, he was just fine without it.

“Noona?” Taehyung said, ignoring Yoongi’s grumbled noises of displeasure. “You said you’d set up accounts, do you think we could have money by tonight?”

Hyunah looked up curiously, “Hmm, maybe, I have some other scams running.”

Taehyung held up his beer to her in a solemn salute and had a long pull on it.

“Taehyung, go and get dressed, if we’re going out, we should go soon,” Yoongi groaned, tapping his arm, trying to push him slightly without having to exert any effort.

“I have a few things, but I don’t know what to wear, I’ll show you, and you guys can decide,” Taehyung smiled, pulling himself up.

“No! Just get dressed—“ Yoongi started, but Taehyung was already out the back door and gone. “—fuck,” he grumbled, closing his eyes.

“What’s all this about?” Hyunah asked, looking over at him, “Taehyungie’s being weird.”

“Cos of today,” Yoongi supplied, not looking up, enjoying the blackness the inside of his eyelids provided.

“With the manager?” Hoseok pressed.

“Yeah, I think he feels like he owes us.”

“He doesn’t though!” Hoseok laughed.

“I know that! I tried to tell him, but you know what he’s like. Just get ready to slap him, because there is no way I’m picking up tonight.”

Chapter Text

 

YOONGI

 

“It’s all loaded up,” Hyunah said, throwing his phone back to him, “All accounts and information for Park Jiseok,” she grinned, “Tell me I’m good, call me noona.”


“Noona!” Yoongi chuckled, stuffing his phone in his pocket, “You’re incredible, you’re amazing!”


Hyunah smiled indulgently, “Have fun tonight my dongsaengs.”


Kim Taehyung had only moments before, sauntered back into the lounge, floating around them in a blur of tan chiffon, and excessive midriff.


He and Yoongi could not have been more dissimilar.


Taehyung’s long hair was beautiful in a way that was almost feminine, Yoongi’s hair was a permanent buzz cut; a remnant from his time in the army.


Taehyung was chic and confident, Yoongi was hunched and abrasive; this was why Kim Taehyung was going to get slapped in the face by Jung Hoseok tomorrow morning.


“Come on,” Yoongi said suddenly, taking Taehyung by the wrist.


“Hoseok-ah, rematch on the game?” They heard Hyunah ask as they slipped out through the bead curtain.


“Are we playing the machine again, hyung?” Taehyung asked letting Yoongi lead him.


“Apparently, I don’t fucking know why, we’re never gonna be your score from 2019.”


They let themselves out into the freezing cold street, Taehyung immediately wrapping his coat around himself.


“Where are they?” Taehyung asked.


“The noraebang parlour off Usadan-ro,” Yoongi replied.


“Whereabouts?”


“I know where,” Yoongi grunted.


“Hyung, do we have to walk, we could get a taxi, we have money now, I’m already pretty…pretty drunk,” Taehyung laughed.


“Nah, it’s not far,” Yoongi said shaking his head.


Taehyung, true to form made a very big deal about having to walk in the cold, wrapping his arms desperately around his slender frame, letting his teeth audibly chatter.


“You’re the idiot that wore a fucking crop top,” Yoongi spat, but ended up shucking his big puffy jacket and making Taehyung put it on, wrapping an arm around his waist, keeping him close just for good measure.


Taehyung, though he towered over Yoongi, fit easily against his side, their steps falling into synch.


“You said it wasn’t far,” Taehyung complained as they ducked through the now-closed market.


“I’m going crazy,” Yoongi muttered, tugging Taehyung a little faster, “It’s just around that corner,” he said, pointing down the end of the sloping street. Past the back carparks of marts and massage parlours, and the odd boxes and bins that lined the street, there was in fact a sign advertising Noraebang below.


Taehyung hit the stairs gratefully, toeing cautiously down them in his stacked heeled sneakers. The warmth of the heater whooshed over them as the door was pushed open, Taehyung groaned in relief, slapping his hand over heart.


Yoongi pulled out his phone and texted Seokjin asking what booth they were in.


“Have you been here before, hyung?” Taehyung asked, bending down to inspect the fish in the vast tank that ran the length of the waiting room.


“Good evening,” the young woman manning the front desk said, standing to bow as she caught sight of them. They both returned the gesture, and Yoongi explained that their friends were in a booth, he was waiting to find out which one.


He caught her concerned looks at the ink on his neck, and his disheveled clothes, but he decided to ignore it, looking back down at his phone.


“Twelve,” he snapped, taking Taehyung by the wrist again, leading him away.


They could hear the shouts from twelve before they had even passed six, the sound proofing doing nothing to muffle the singing of the six queer men.


Yoongi pushed the door open with a grin and was met with a wave of shrieks and cheers. He and Taehyung were engulfed in arms, being hit on the back many times as they battled to find a spot on the couch.


Yoongi was tugged down next to Seokjin who smiled drunkenly at him.


“Yoongi-yah” he grinned, “Are you drunk?”


“Not enough,” Yoongi laughed, looking around for booze. “Do you need another?” He asked Seokjin, who nodded. He had a thought of checking if there was anyone else older than him in his close proximity that needed a drink, but they were all busy fawning over Taehyung. He had now been stripped of his two jackets and was proudly displaying his toned midriff as he poured drinks.


He shrugged and grabbed a bottle of soju. In one fluid motion he twirled it, flipping it in his hands catching it upside down, hitting the bottle lightly against his elbow before he cracked the lid, ending with it right way up.


“I love it when you do that,” Seokjin laughed, “I tried to do it last week and I dropped the bottle.”


“I had to practice!” Yoongi called over the sound of Youngsik screaming the lyrics to an old H.O.T song.


“I don’t have time for that,” Seokjin grinned, holding up his glass with one hand for Yoongi to pour.


“Love shot?” Seokjin asked, holding up his glass as Yoongi finished pouring his own.

 

“Sure,” Yoongi shrugged, linking arms with the man.


“One shot!” Seokjin shouted, before pushing the glass against Yoongi’s mouth.


Yoongi parted his lips and let the sharp liquid pour down his throat, tipping his own glass in to Seokjin’s mouth.


The two of them were seasoned drinkers and finished the glasses in two mouthfuls. All up it amounted to most of a bottle of soju between them, and Yoongi hissed as it seared down his throat. It was a good type of burn, the burn that promised a good night to come, the inevitable oblivion hovering on the peripheries. They slammed the cups down on the table in front of them, Seokjin cheering, throwing an arm around Yoongi’s neck.


“My dongsaeng!” He grinned, “Let me pour a drink for you.”


Yoongi nodded gratefully and pushed himself back into the booth, crossing one skinny leg over the other.


He looked over the shiny glass table at Taehyung, for a second he couldn’t see him, but then he realised that Taehyung was ducking down behind Youngsik. He came back up suddenly, his hand going to his nose, rubbing it as though he needed to sneeze.


Yoongi met Taehyung’s eyes across the room and shook his head disapprovingly.


Taehyung shrugged, and gestured to Youngsik’s hands questioningly, asking Yoongi if he would also like some coke to put up his nose.


Yoongi shook his head, it was too early in the night yet, he needed a few more drinks at least.


Suddenly, Itaewon Freedom started blaring from the speakers around the room, and most of it’s occupants scrambled for mics, throwing themselves back out of the booth to dance in front of the screens.


Yoongi took the drink offered by Seokjin, turning his head to drink respectfully before Seokjin also abandoned him.


“Hyung,” Taehyung grinned, flopping down next to him, throwing an arm around Yoongi’s neck, “Are you sure you don’t want any?” He asked, “I know Youngsik-hyung would definitely give you some.”


Yoongi laughed, of course Youngsik would give him some, the guy was terrified of him.


“It’s fine Taehyung-ie, maybe a bit later.”


“Hyung, is there anyone here that…you know, maybe you might…?” Taehyung started.


“No fucking way,” Yoongi said quickly, putting an end to that. Many of the men in the room he had in fact been with in the past, when he was much younger. The group was mostly comprised of people who knew each other through clubbing in Itaewon. They had become friends after innumerable nights out through their twenties. Which understandably lead to some crossovers in who had slept with who, the queer scene in Seoul was not that great, and there were only limited people to choose from.


Sometimes Yoongi thought that, at twenty eight, he had probably hooked up with, or at least partied with every queer man in the city.


That was another reason Yoongi was sure that Taehyung was going to get slapped in his face, he was almost certain, there was no one who was going to go within ten feet of him. Either, they already knew him, or they knew his reputation.


“Hmm, I’m gonna work this out,” Taehyung mumbled solemnly, “But I wanna choose a song first,” he grinned, changing tracks so quickly it nearly gave Yoongi whiplash, “hyung, any requests?”


“Choose whatever you want.”


Taehyung pressed a sweaty kiss to the side of Yoongi’s head and pushed up from the booth.


Taewon shuffled along the booth to fill Taehyung’s empty seat.


“Yoongi-yah, how’ve you been?”


Yoongi nodded, making a gesture that sort of said, ‘neither here nor there.’


“Better than doing shit I guess,” Taewon laughed.


“What about you, hyung?” Yoongi asked.


He was so crap at small talk, it grated on him, he wasn’t good at it, and he didn’t like not being good at things; it hurt his pride.


“You know, not bad either I guess.”


“Business good?”


“Bit slow at the moment, supply issues, some trouble higher up the chain, so…”


“That sucks,” Yoongi managed, crossing his arms over his chest.


“What about you, Yoongi-yah, hows the…IT security?”


“Fine,” Yoongi shrugged.


Taewon laughed, thumping him on the back, Taewon had a fairly good idea of what Yoongi did, they ran in similar circles, but Yoongi really wasn’t into sharing. “Fine? I see…drink?” Taewon asked.


“Yeah!” Yoongi said quickly sitting back up, reaching for the nearest half full bottle of soju.


He took Taewon’s glass for him and filled them both, clinking their cups together. Gratefully he finished it in one shot and slammed it back down on the table.


At the rate they were drinking they were gonna have to call for more booze soon, the table was already packed with empty bottles of beer and soju.


He sat back and watched the five men that were singing, all of them poorly trying to coordinate a dance, Taehyung throwing his arms everywhere, exposing his whole chest and midriff to everyone in the room.


The song finished and everyone migrated back to their seats, having a breath before the next song started up.


“I queued some tracks, hyung!” Taehyung called as Youngsik pulled him down onto his lap.


Yoongi threw up and ‘OK’ sign, it wasn’t as though he was going to sing anyway.


Taewon leaned in close, “Oh, Yoongi-yah, you want?” He asked, producing a pill on his index finger.


Yoongi had found it much easier to say no to Taehyung. Taehyung was younger than him, and Yoongi didn’t like cocaine all that much; he was however a sucker for pills, and bad at talking up to people older than him.


So he nodded gratefully and leant down to Taewon’s hand, letting him press the pill to his tongue, swiping his wet finger across Yoongi’s lip for good measure.


He handed Yoongi his beer, letting him wash it down.


It only took about twenty minutes, and suddenly a lot of the ideas Yoongi had entertained about staying quiet and watching other people sing were starting to become more distant.


He was lounging happily in the booth, a bottle of soju in his hand when someone started shouting his name.


He looked up with a grin to find Taehyung gesturing to him.

 

“What?” He yelled across the room.


“Hyung, come here.”


Nimbly Yoongi lifted himself to his feet, picking his way around the table and out of the booth.


“What?” He asked again, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s shoulder to keep himself steady.


“Seo Taiji is next!” Taehyung exclaimed, pointing at the screen “you have to do it hyung, do your impression!”


“No fucking way, not a chance,” Yoongi grumbled, but all of a sudden Taehyung had procured a wig from the props box. It was one of the kinds that comedians wore, black and in a bob style.


Taehyung ripped Yoongi’s beanie off his head and slammed the wig on him, pulling the beanie on over the top.


“You even look like him hyung! Did you bring your glasses?” Taehyung asked.


He had brought his glasses, sure that at some point in the night he would probably get a headache from not being able to see properly.


“They’re in my jacket,” he shrugged. Taehyung leapt to the side, digging through Yoongi’s coat for his glasses, coming back up victorious, sliding them carefully onto Yoongi’s face.


“Seo Taiji!” Seokjin guffawed, appearing at their side.


“It’s up next,” Taehyung assured him loudly over the sound of the others singing a very dramatic ballad.


“I’ll do it to!” Taehyung assured him as the music ended.


“Here,” Seokjin laughed, pressing the mic into Yoongi’s hand.


Before he knew it he was in fact doing a Seo Taiji and Boys impersonation, standing in front of seven men, rapping.


The pill had been very, very, good it seemed, because he wasn’t stressed about it at all. He was having a good time, everything a little blurry around the edges, Taehyung rapping very poorly at his side, making incredibly over the top rap gestures.


“Do the dance!” Someone shouted from behind them.


Taehyung who was the bigger of the two, made his arms into a circle and suddenly engulfed Yoongi in them pulling his whole body through, nearly ending in Yoongi toppling over.


Taehyung got to the floor and decided to stay there, on his hands and knees, laughing hysterically into the mic.


They gave up halfway through the song, and let the others take over, falling back into the booth.


Yoongi was out of breath, he pulled the now sweaty wig off his head and threw it at the wall, yanking his beanie back on.


“Noraebang,” he shouted at Taehyung across the table, and brought his arms up in a big X as he panted.


Taehyung threw his head back, leaning into Youngsik, on who’s knee he was once again sitting.


“We have a serious problem,” Seokjin called once the song was finished. “Half a bottle of soju and eight of us, who’s getting the last of it?”


“The oldest!” Yelled Taewon, who was in fact the oldest.


“Rock, paper, scissors?” Some one suggested.


“I want it!” Taehyung shouted with a laugh.


“Earn it!” Seokjin shouted back.


“I think our youngest should act cute for it,” Taewon grinned pointing at Taehyung.


“No, no, god no,” Taehyung said shaking his head.


The chant started up, and eventually Taehyung had to stand in front of the screens, a dirty scowl on his face.


Everyone fell silent watching in anticipation.


Taehyung sighed, clenching his fists, “I had a nightmare, about a ghost,” he said suddenly, bringing his hands up to his face and puffing his cheeks out.


A roar of laughter went up around the room, everyone throwing themselves backwards in the booth.


“Perfect, perfect, Taehyung-ie, you earned it!” Seokjin grinned, passing him the half full bottle. “Press the button for service, you have to order more.”


Taehyung took the bottle, finishing it as he pressed the intercom beside the door and waited patiently for the host to arrive.

 

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

 

Yoongi wasn’t sure how long they stayed at the parlour, they went through a whole other round of drinks, but each song was bleeding seamlessly into the next.


However long it was, by the time they decided they should leave Yoongi was obliterated.


“Who’s paying?” Someone shouted.


Drunkenly, a game of rock paper scissors was arranged, they moved through the rounds quickly, Yoongi was safe within the first two, but till the end Taehyung kept losing and eventually it was just him and Jongmin.


Jongmin threw rock and Taehyung threw scissors and the room erupted in shouts.


Yoongi thumped Taehyung on the back.


“You should have thrown rock, like a man!” Jongmin yelled triumphantly throwing his arms up as everyone started filtering out of the room, the host standing to the side with a card reader.


“Hyung!” Taehyung said desperately, “Hyung, I can’t pay for it.”


Yoongi shook his head, taking his phone out of his pocket.


“Here,” he said to the host, opening up the banking app that had been set up for Park Jiseok.


He pressed it to the chip reader and waited for it to beep; the host nodded and bowed to them, thanking them as he backed out of the room.


“Hyung,” Taehyung smiled, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s neck, “I’m gonna find a guy for you, I promise. And if I can’t find anyone, I offer myself, no joke!”


“Don’t worry about it Taehyung-ie, it’s really fine, let’s just have a good night.”


Taehyung draped himself over Yoongi, leaning his head on his shoulder.


“Hyung,” Taehyung whispered, “I’m drunk.”


“Oh really?” Yoongi laughed.


“Mmmm, I might need to vomit before we get to the club.”


“I’ll find you an alley, Taehyung-ie.”


“You’re so good to me Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung mumbled.


Yoongi patted Taehyung’s sweaty back, it was completely exposed by his useless shirt and Yoongi could feel the overwhelming heat of Taehyung’s skin under his fingers.


He let Taehyung’s hands roam across his him, and ignored the throb in the pit of his stomach, it had definitely been too long since he had gotten laid.


“I know, come on, they’re going to leave us behind,” Yoongi mumbled as Taehyung pressed his face into the crook of his neck. “Come on,” he urged, pulling Taehyung closer for a moment, squeezing him slightly before letting go, “Come on, come on.”


Taehyung didn’t care nearly as much about walking in the cold on their way to the club, his jacket stayed slung across his arm as he walked. Much to Yoongi’s chagrin Youngsik kept Taehyung close to him, as they stumbled along, one hand tucked into Taehyung’s back pocket.


Yoongi didn’t like Youngsik, and seeing him touch Taehyung made his stomach twist uncomfortably.


“Do you still need to vomit?” Yoongi asked as they neared to club, speeding up a little to get Taehyung’s attention.


“Nah, I’m fine,” Taehyung said pleasantly, flipping his long hair out of his face.


“Good,” Yoongi nodded as they walked up the steps to where the bouncer was waiting.


They all flashed up their ID’s proving they were over twenty and got let in without a problem, Taehyung shooting a wink at the bouncer, who scowled and looked resolutely down at his ID reader.


The EDM hit him like he had run into a wall, the bright neon lights were made, perhaps, worse by the fact that he had kept his glasses on after his Seo Taiji impression.


Quickly everyone split off, leaving Yoongi to hover slowly over to the bar.


Taehyung found him staring at the bartender waiting for service, “Hyung…” he whined, “Buy me a drink?”


Yoongi looked over at him with sharp eyes, “I paid your whole tab.”


“Hyung!” Taehyung exclaimed, grabbing Yoongi’s arm, “Just something cheap, just a beer or…I don’t care.”


Yoongi looked back at the bar tender, actually lifting his arm to wave.


“Do you have grape bong bong?” He shouted.


“Yep!” The bartender yelled back.


“Can I get three bottles of soju, and a bong bong baekju.”


“Hyung! Thank you!” Taehyung grinned.


“Don’t vomit in here,” Yoongi urged as the bartender slid their drinks across the counter, “Take you’re drink, and stop draining my bank account.”


Taehyung pressed his face against Yoongi’s cheek in what was probably supposed to be a kiss, and snatched the drink off the bar.


“Get Youngsik to pay for your fucking drinks!” Yoongi shouted at Taehyung’s back. “Thanks,” he said to the bartender, pressing his phone to the chip reader again.


His precious bottles tucked into the pockets of his huge coat, he picked his way across the dance floor to the more secluded lounge area. The chemicals were still definitely swirling around his blood stream and he felt a little dizzy and overwhelmed.


With a foul look on his face he managed to scare a few young guys off a couch and took it for himself, unloading his soju in front of him.


He relaxed into the soft cushions, cracking a bottle and having a leisurely mouthful.


The lounge was much more chill than the club itself, there were a few people eating, as well as lots of people talking, their heads leant close to each other.


It always made him a little happy, any time he could see other queer men being able to express themselves, to be open in public.


He had no problem going to normal clubs, he would even go to places were it was certainly more dangerous to be queer, and do so shamelessly. He had been hit more times than he could count at this point.


Unfortunately, the older he got, the more he felt like he just couldn’t be bothered trying to change things any more.


It was much easier to just go to a gay bar, and be around other understanding queer people, and then go home and sleep.


He wondered vaguely where all the people he had come to the club with had gone. But then realised the answer was probably; dancing, at the bar, or doing questionable things in the toilets.
Now that he was alone he was starting to feel a little melancholy, the drugs wanted him to be hugging someone, or dancing, even just smiling. And since he was sitting quietly by himself and not doing any of those things, a feeling of sadness was creeping up his back.


“Fuck, come on,” he mumbled to himself, pushing the bottles back into his pockets and standing up.


He stumbled a little on his way back to the dance floor, squinting around for any of his friends and coming up short.


Everyone sort of blended in together; a lot of similar trendy hairstyles and clothes. The only people who stuck out were the foreigners, of which there many in Itaewon, especially at night.


“Fuck!” He exclaimed, “fuck this.”


Yoongi retreated back to one of the pillars next to the dance floor, rubbing his head angrily, startling a guy who was dancing near him,.


He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Taehyung’s messages, ‘Where are you?’ He texted, sending it off and jamming the thing back in his pocket.

 

He stood there for about ten minutes, waiting for a reply and keeping his eyes open for anyone he knew.


He couldn’t tell if it was him or the drugs, but he couldn’t isolate any of the mess of faces around him, and no one was messaging him back.


It was worse in the club, the lounge had been better, and with his heart beating abnormally fast, he retreated.


Sweaty and a little panicked, he managed to find Taewon and a guy that hadn’t been with them earlier eating chicken at one of the tables at the side.


“Hyung,” Yoongi panted as he approached them, “Where’d everyone go?”


“Dunno,” Taewon managed around a mouthful of chicken, “Just go look Yoongi-yah!”


“I have,” Yoongi muttered darkly to himself. He was torn, on the one hand, he could just stay with Taewon and the nameless man. But for some reason, he was overly fixated on finding Taehyung; he hadn’t responded to his messages, and he was with fucking Youngsik, and that just didn’t sit right.


He considered going to the toilets and banging on the doors, but he thought that would be a bit extreme and should be saved as a last resort.


Instead he decided to try and curb some of his anger by smoking, if he had a cigarette, it would definitely distract him for a moment, and Taehyung might message him back in the ten minutes it would take.


There were a number of other people on the balcony, crowded around glowing braziers, cigarettes in their trembling fingers.


He pressed himself against a wall and dug for his packet, sticking one between his teeth and lighting it.


He shook his head, did they really all have to disappear? He checked his phone again, and still had no reply.


“Bastard,” he muttered to himself, “I paid his damn tab.”


He pulled open his banking app to see what damage the payment of the Noraebang parlour had done to it; 160,000 won, fuck. “Thanks everyone.”


He was muttering to himself, smoking his cigarette angrily, the other men on the balcony starting to inch away from him slightly, smoking their own a little faster.


He flicked the still lit cigarette over the railing and went to push back inside, deciding after all that he was going to go and bang on doors in the bathroom.


As he swung the door open, looking down at his phone, he smacked straight into someone, his head and their glass colliding with a crack.


He reeled back, covered in sweet smelling sticky liquid, he shouted a profanity, looking down at his now saturated black t-shirt.


“Fuck!” He barked, looking up at whoever he had run into.


The guy looked stunned, his now empty cocktail glass in his grip, his hand dripping with sticky red liquor.


“You ran into me!” He said suddenly.


Yoongi hadn’t expected that, usually people took one look at him and bowed ninety degrees as they backed away slowly.


“Why the fuck were you standing in front of the door, when you see someone older than you coming you move aside!”


Yoongi almost definite he had seniority here, this guy couldn’t be older than him, his face had the same wide eye’d dumb thing that Taehyung’s had.


The guy looked like he wanted to bite back, but instead bit his lip and bowed.


“Sorry,” he muttered bowing slightly, but not nearly deep enough, “Did I spill it all over you?” He asked; as he stepped forward and shamelessly pressed his hand to Yoongi’s chest, assessing how wet it was.


“Yes,” Yoongi hissed, he stepped around the guy, flicking red alcohol off his face as he stormed through the club to the toilets.


As expected, there was almost as many people in the bathroom as there had been on the balcony.


He slammed the door behind him and knocked someone out of the way to get to the sink. With a distasteful look on his face he ripped off his coat and hoodie, dumping them on the counter next to him.


The other men in the bathroom started to back out with worried looks at him.


“Yah!” He shouted at their retreating backs, making them move more quickly; at this point he was just angry at everyone.


He took off his glasses and his beanie, setting them down in front of the mirror and bent over to splash water on his face.


With another profanity he pulled off his soaking t-shirt and looked at it, he could wash it in the sink, ring it out and put it in his pocket, but in the end he settled for throwing it in the bin, giving it up as a lost cause.


He cupped water in his hands and splashed them on his chest, which had been stained pink by the cocktail.


“Hey—” said a voice from the door, Yoongi looked up in the mirror to find the same arsehole standing there staring at him, “Can I help?” He asked.


“You’re really pushing it.” Yoongi spat, grabbing paper towel to scrub at his pale chest.


“I feel awful, you were wearing all black, I honestly didn’t see you,” the guy protested. He picked up Yoongi’s hoodie from the pile on the counter and started patting dry the wet parts with paper towel of his own.


That was great, but it meant that Yoongi now had to stand half naked and wait for this random guy to finish unburdening himself.


He crossed one arm over his chest and leant against the sink, trying to look intimidating, which wasn't as easy without his hat and big coat, he had a feeling he just looked scrawny and pale.


“I’m losing my mind,” he mumbled,


“Here, here,” the guy said quickly handing over the hoodie, which Yoongi gratefully yanked on, zipping it angrily. He shoved his arms back in his puffy coat and slammed his beanie and glasses on. He felt much more threatening now, and turned back to face the man.


“You’ve done enough now I think,” he snarled.


“No, no,” he said quickly, “I’ll buy you a drink, to apologise properly.”


Yoongi pulled the two extraneous bottles of soju out of his pocket, “I don’t need one.”


“Well I do, buy me a drink?” He asked hopefully.


Yoongi’s eyes widened, the nerve of this kid, he was a half second from slapping him, when the bathroom door swung open again.


“Hey! Min Yoongi!” Taehyung shouted, “There you are, I just got your message; I’m so sorry. I lost you…I was dancing.”


Taehyung stumbled forwards, throwing himself over Yoongi, he was drenched in sweat, and Yoongi snarled, he hadn't come out tonight with the intention of being saturated in various unpleasant liquids.


“You smell nice, like grapefruit,” Taehyung smiled, rubbing his nose against Yoongi’s neck.


“That would be my cocktail,” the guy said from behind them.


Taehyung spun around suddenly, collecting Yoongi’s jaw with his head as he turned, but not noticing. Yoongi rubbed it furiously, about ready to throw his soju on the floor and go the fuck home.


“Who are you?” Taehyung asked suspiciously, looking back at Yoongi, who shrugged, still scowling.


“Hi, Park Jimin,” he smiled, bowing.


Taehyung managed to bow in response, though very clumsily, slurring— “Kim Taehyung.” on his way down. “Hyung,” he continued, turning back to Yoongi, “Buy me another drink?”


“Where is Youngsik?” Yoongi asked.


“Smoking,” Taehyung shrugged.


“I need a drink as well,” Park Jimin said, peeking over Taehyung’s shoulder.


Yoongi met his eyes with the most disgusted look he could manage.


“You’re shameless you know that?” He asked, “You’ve just met me, you’re still speaking informally and trying to get me to replace the drink you spilled on me? Why shouldn’t I hit you for being so fucking disrespectful?”


“Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung said suddenly, “Calm down, I’m sure Park Jimin-ssi didn’t mean to spill his drink on you-“


“I didn’t,” Park Jimin added.


“—let’s get drinks, like men, you don’t need to hit anyone,” Taehyung soothed, gripping Yoongi’s shoulder.


Yoongi could feel his eye twitch, but bit back his anger, “Fine,” he snapped ducking out past them.


He stormed over to the bar, “What were you drinking” He asked the guy that was following them.


“It was red grapefruit and vodka—“


“One of those, and another bong bong baekju.”


He couldn’t believe he was buying drinks for two people whilst requiring none for himself.


He opened his second bottle of soju, and turned to find Taehyung talking happily to Jimin.


“—coming through the door, and then I ran straight into him,” Jimin said with a grimace. Taehyung burst out laughing, one hand pressed to his sweaty stomach.


“You’re lucky he didn’t throw you over the balcony, that hyung is a total thug,” Taehyung grinned, patting Jimin’s shoulder.


“Take your drinks,” Yoongi interjected.


“Thank you,” Jimin said, bowing, taking the drink off the bar, “Who are you two here with?” He asked.


Yoongi wanted to pull his hair out, he had spent the last half an hour trying to find Taehyung, and now that he had, Taehyung wanted to keep talking to the man who had dumped a drink on Yoongi. But Yoongi couldn’t leave because he had spent half an hour trying to find Taehyung!


“We came with hyung’s friends, they’re around here somewhere.”


“Are you two…together?” Jimin asked, looking between them.


“No, no,” Taehyung laughed, “We’re just friends, how old are you, Jimin-ssi?”


“How old do you think I am?” Jimin grinned, his smile was far too big for his face, his plump lips stretching; Yoongi thought they were almost too big, he’d probably had fillers.


“Uhh, twenty three?” Taehyung guessed.


“Ohhh, thank you!” Jimin laughed, taking Taehyung’s hand, shaking it gratefully.


“Older or younger?” Yoongi asked, despite himself.


“Older,” Jimin nodded, turning to look at Yoongi.


“Older, okay. Twenty five,” he hazarded.


“Nope,” Jimin grinned.


“Twenty four?” Taehyung tried.


“Wrong way.”


“Twenty six?” Yoongi said, having a mouthful of his soju, his mood improving now that he was talking to someone.


“Got it,” Jimin grinned.


“Are you ’95?” Taehyung asked.


“Yep!”


“Me too!” Taehyung exclaimed happily.


“Oh, amazing!” Jimin smiled, clapping once in a sort of strange effeminate way where he just clasped his hands in front of him. “And how old is this friend?” He asked, turning his sharp gaze back on Yoongi.


Yoongi looked away, his good mood trickling away once more.


“This hyung is ’93,” Taehyung supplied unhelpfully.


“Oh, Yoongi-ssi, let’s speak informally,” Jimin laughed, “can I call you hyung?


“You move very fast, Jimin-ssi,” Taehyung cackled, “I love it!”


“I’m gonna slap you, don’t be a brat,” Yoongi threatened.


“Don’t be nasty, hyung,” Taehyung smiled, boxy and bright, manoeuvring himself into Yoongi’s arms.


“It sounds nice doesn’t it, Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin suggested, “Jimin-ah,” he added, pressed a hand to his own chest demonstratively, which was covered in a now slightly pink stained beige turtle neck.


“If I say I don’t want to speak informally, are you going to keep doing it anyway?” Yoongi asked, letting Taehyung hang over his shoulders.


“I’m hard to dissuade,” Jimin smiled.


“Where are your friends?” Yoongi asked, hoping that maybe they would swoop in and take Jimin away from them.


“Oh, I’m here alone, I was just at home and I thought to myself, why not, I’ve got nothing better to do.”


“Did you come here…looking?” Taehyung asked suddenly, turning carefully in Yoongi’s arms, keeping a hold of his hands wrapping them firmly around his middle.


“Looking?” Jimin asked.


“You know…looking,” Taehyung prompted, giving Jimin a knowing wink.


“Oh! I don’t know…maybe I suppose. You’re very straightforward, Taehyung-ah.”


“You can talk,” Yoongi said over Taehyung’s shoulder, his grip around Taehyung’s waist tightening slightly.


Jimin smiled wide again, showing his very white grin , his front tooth slightly crooked.


Taehyung turned his head to catch Yoongi’s eye.


What passed between them was a very obvious interaction that consisted of Taehyung nodding his head towards Jimin and mouthing the words, ‘one-night type thing,’ very clearly.


Yoongi very nearly lifted his hand to Taehyung’s throat to choke him.


“I’m gonna find Youngsik-hyung,” Taehyung laughed after catching the look on Yoongi’s face, “Yoongi-hyung is also looking, Jimin-ah,” he threw over his shoulder as he sauntered away.
“I’m not,” Yoongi said swiftly, avoiding Jimin’s gaze, “Taehyung just likes to stir shit.”


“If you are it’s fine, I mean we’re all here for a reason right?” Jimin said sensibly, sipping his cocktail.


“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be fine,” Yoongi snapped, “Just don’t get any ideas, even if I’m looking, I’m not looking for you.”


“Wahh, you’re too harsh, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin laughed, shifting slightly to lean on the bar next to Yoongi. “You’re only saying that ‘cos we got off on the wrong foot, right?”


“Not at all, you’re not really my style,” Yoongi shrugged, turning to face the bartender, hoping that if he ignored the man beside him, he might just go away.


“Am I not, in what way?” Jimin asked.


“Well…you’re a bit of a flower boy aren’t you?” Yoongi said with a grimace.


“Why? Because I take care of my appearance? You don’t like men who look nice?”


“No, I don’t like men who look more like girls than men,” Yoongi snapped.


“Have you seen your friend?” Jimin asked.


“Taehyung is different, I’m not trying to sleep with him.”


“Well, if you were wondering Yoongi-hyung, you’re not really my style either, I tend to like men who look after their bodies, stay healthy.”


“Really? You’re too much,” Yoongi grumbled, though he knew that Jimin was right.


“Well now that we’ve worked out that we don’t want to sleep with each other, let’s be friends then,” Jimin smiled, knocking his elbow against Yoongi’s, swiping a hand through his shiny dark hair.


“Fuck sake,” Yoongi sighed, dropping his face into his hands.


“What do you do Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asked,


“Fuck! I.T, I work in I.T,” Yoongi grunted, his face nearly pressed against the bar.


“I work at a publishing house,” Jimin added, without being asked, “Just as an office boy at the moment, but eventually I’ll be a partner,” he said decisively.


“I’m sure you will.”


“What sort of stuff do you like, do you listen to music?” Jimin prompted.


“No.”

 

“You’re lying, everyone listens to music, what do you like?”


“Hip Hop I guess, or metal,” Yoongi admitted after a minute.


“Korean hip hop? Or western?”


“Both are fine.”


“Anyone I might know?” Jimin asked curiously, nudging Yoongi to try and get him to look up again.


“Gambino,” Yoongi said off the top of his head.


“Ohhhh Gambino, I like Gambino, anyone else?”


“Clon,” Yoongi sighed.


“Clon, old school, love that,” Jimin grinned. Yoongi wanted to leave, he felt like Jimin was laughing at him with his ridiculous smile that made his eyes crinkle and disappear into his cheeks. “Do you want to know what I like?”


“No,” Yoongi grunted.


“Shall I tell you anyway?”


“Fine.”


“I like KARD at the moment,” Jimin nodded.


“You should go and speak to Taehyung-ie, he likes KARD, you’d probably have more luck with him.”


“He seems busy,” Jimin said, nodding over Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi looked around to see Taehyung and Youngsik coming back in from the balcony, Youngsik wrapped around Taehyung’s back, his face pressed to his neck.


“Hyung! Fighting!” Taehyung called as he was pushed towards the dance floor.


Yoongi looked into the near distance, wishing himself out of the situation.


“I like Kim Taehyung-ssi,” Jimin said, laughing at the young man.


“He’s a nasty cunt,” Yoongi growled, having another swig from his soju.


“I’ve finished my drink, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin grinned, swirling his cup in front of Yoongi.


“I’m not your fucking hyung,” Yoongi snarled, snatching the glass out of his hand, turning back to face the bartender, who was very clearly laughing at him.

He got Jimin another drink, “Why are they so fucking expensive?” He complained as he pressed his phone to the card reader.


“Luxury ingredients,” Jimin smiled, “Do you just drink soju?” He asked, “What’s your favourite drink?”


“Anything cheap,” Yoongi said in a monotone.


“Convenience store booze?”


“The best kind.”


“You have a lot of tattoo’s, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin pointed out, reaching out a hand to take Yoongi’s, turning it over to look at the very poor quality, mostly faded tattoos, that covered his fingers and knuckles.


Yoongi went to snatch his hand back, but Jimin kept a tight grip on it, “What do they mean?” He asked.


Yoongi looked at him confusedly, it had been a very long time since a stranger had not been frightened by him. People that had known him for a while knew that it took a lot to provoke him to actual violence. But usually a person he had just met would not have dared to grab his hand, and then more specifically, not let it go.


“The tattoos,” Jimin added, as though Yoongi may not have understood.


“Nothing, they don’t mean anything, it’s all just bullshit from when I was drunk, I did most of them myself,” he mumbled.


“Oh really? Some of these aren’t that bad, maybe you should be an artist instead of an I.T guy,” Jimin joked, taking hold of each of Yoongi’s fingers in turn to look closer at the little stick and poke words and symbols.


To add insult to injury Jimin pushed the sleeve of Yoongi’s jacket up to look at the tattoo’s on his forearm.


“This one doesn’t look home done?” He asked.


“It…is, but it was a friend I know who has a kit,” Yoongi stuttered.


“Is that a Chinese character?” Jimin said, turning Yoongi’s wrist to look at the black word that was tattooed on the underside, it was in fact the first tattoo he had ever gotten. “Does that say soup?”


“Yes…’” Yoongi snapped, “Can I have my arm back now?”


“No,” Jimin said shaking his head easily, smiling up at Yoongi, “I’m not done, give me a minute.”


Yoongi was taken aback, but was also equally not sure what to do, so he stood lamely with his wrist in Jimin’s grip as Jimin turned it back and forth, looking closely at every little stupid thing he had carved into his skin. “You had others on your chest right?” Jimin prompted.


“Yes, but I’m not taking my shirt off here,” Yoongi said snidely.


“Why not? You could just undo it and I could look quickly. I really like tattoo’s, I think they’re fascinating,” Jimin looked up at him innocently, finally letting go of his wrist.


Yoongi however, soon regretted his happiness at having his arm back, as Jimin’s short tanned fingers quickly found his zip and undid his hoodie so quickly that he had no idea how it had happened.


“Do you like movies?” Jimin asked as he bent over to look at Yoongi’s chest.


Yoongi had a feeling his eyes had never been so wide in his life.


“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, feeling the muscles in his stomach jump under Jimin’s touch as he ran his fingers across what Yoongi was fairly sure was a poorly executed smiley face that Hoseok had done a few months ago.


“What ones? Any new ones?”


“I…saw, the new one with Ma Dongseok,” Yoongi managed, trying to regulate his breathing, scowling as his rebellious cock gave a hopeful twitch.


“Oh, it was so good, right?” Jimin exclaimed.


“Yeah, it was very good,” Yoongi agreed, glancing down at Jimin who was still inspecting his chest, his attention now drawn by the two X’s above his left nipple.


“What are these for Yoongi-hyung?” He asked, looking up at Yoongi and catching his glance.


Yoongi felt like he was frozen, stuck in place. He managed to turn his eyes back to the bar, picking up his bottle for something to do.


“For the men I’ve loved,” he mumbled, having a mouthful.


“That’s very sentimental, I didn’t peg you as sentimental, you seem so tough,” Jimin smiled, standing up and zipping Yoongi’s hoodie with a flourish.

 

Yoongi decided not to answer, he felt like he was damned if he did, and equally damned if he did not.


If he was to agree, ‘yes I am tough,’ it would seem like he was trying too hard. But then if he was to disagree, ‘I’m far from tough,’ well, that wasn’t completely true and he didn’t want Jimin to think that either.


“Do you like dancing?” Jimin asked, the never ending barrage of questions continuing.


“Not at all,” Yoongi said, tipping back the bottle to finish the remnants. He quickly retrieved the last of his soju from his pocket. And for some reason, beyond his understanding, he performed his very elaborate soju opening trick, flipping the bottle and hitting it against his elbow, flipping it again and cracking it in one smooth motion.


Jimin cheered, clapping his hands, his eyes wide, “Wah!” He exclaimed, “How did you do that?” He asked, taking the empty bottle from the bar, attempting to flip it in his hands, managing to catch it, but only just.


“Practice,” Yoongi shrugged, feeling a little more like he had the upper hand again.


That was short lived however—


“Come and dance,” Jimin suggested, “You’re gonna come dance with me.”


“No I’m not,” Yoongi said quickly, but Jimin had hold of his wrist again, and he found himself being lead easily through people to the dance floor. “What am I supposed to do with my bottle?” He called over the music.


“Hold it,” Jimin called back, a little sharply.


Yoongi felt like he had stepped into an alternate universe, when had he agreed to this, he didn’t dance, people didn’t talk down to him, people were constantly wary of him, cautious around him, this didn’t feel right.


The floor was full of sweaty gyrating men, not really a place he wanted to be, and yet here he was, his soju held awkwardly in his hand, Jimin dancing easily in front of him, his grip on Yoongi’s wrist still firmly in place.


The song was something bass-y, the speakers thumping at such a volume that he could feel it pulsing in his ribs. Jimin finally relinquished his grip, only to swing his arm around Yoongi’s hips, keeping him where he was.


Jimin looked as though he was in his element, his body moving easily to the deep electronica, his eyes half closed. Yoongi had a mouthful of his soju, savouring the burn of the sharp liquor. He went to let it drop again, but thought better of it and had another large mouthful, coughing a little as it went down.


Jimin opened his eyes and looked over at Yoongi, “Dance,” he urged, pulling Yoongi a little closer, he pushed one thigh between Yoongi’s legs and started moving his body in more exaggerated gestures, making Yoongi move with him.


Yoongi felt like a puppet, dizzy and off balance, cautiously he let his hand rest on Jimin’s shoulder, keeping himself steady, his soju still clasped desperately in his other hand.


“See, so easy, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin smiled, slowing down a little, letting Yoongi move for himself.


“You think I’m easy?” Yoongi snapped, still dancing despite himself.


Jimin didn’t say anything, but raised his eyebrows, and, if Yoongi wasn’t mistaken, ground his hips slightly against Yoongi’s.


Yoongi closed his eyes, bringing the soju back up to his mouth.


“Aren’t you drunk already?” Jimin called over the music.


“Yes!” Yoongi nodded, having another mouthful regardless, making Jimin laugh, it was an incredibly irritating laugh; it felt somehow condescending.


As Yoongi went to lower the bottle Jimin caught his wrist and brought the bottle up to his own lips, making Yoongi pour it for him. For some reason, Yoongi didn’t think to complain, but tipped a good amount of his booze into Jimin’s mouth. A little ran down his chin, and Yoongi swiped it away for him.


“Thanks,” Jimin smiled, keeping a hold of Yoongi’s wrist, tucking his hand against Jimin’s chest.


Yoongi nodded, concentrating on trying to keep his hips moving and his legs steady, since they suddenly felt quite shaky.


He shouldn’t have worried however, Jimin’s arm around his middle was as good as a hand rail, Yoongi wasn’t going anywhere. The song changed and there was something like a collective sigh of relief that went around the dance floor as a new incredibly bass heavy song started, this one was a little slower however, the sort of EDM that was almost more like trance, the kind that made you feel heavy and weightless all at once.


Yoongi let his eyes close, moving easily at this point, almost completely supported by Jimin whose body was keeping Yoongi in time, showing him how to move.


He let his head fall forwards onto Jimin’s chest, he smelled like the grapefruit from earlier, and whatever cologne he wore, it was nice, he smelled good.


Between them they quickly finished the bottle, “Stay here,” Jimin said, his lips close to Yoongi’s ear.


Yoongi nodded, feeling Jimin give his wrist a firm squeeze before he broke away and fought his way back through the crush around them.


Yoongi looked at the men around him, meeting the eyes of one of them, who reached out an arm to try and pull Yoongi over to dance with him. Yoongi batted him away and the guy nodded, turning his attention back to the man in front of him.


Deciding not to look at people, he turned his gaze up at the spinning lights above him. They were suspended on a whole lot of black bars that criss crossed the club. The lights flashed pink and green, and then suddenly blue and red, then yellow and pink, alternating in the directions they spun. It made him dizzy, but in a sort of pleasant way.


He wondered if the pill was still affecting him, and then added to that the idea that maybe he could get another from Taewon if he was still there. The last time he had seen Taewon was in the lounge and he thought maybe he should go and seek him out again.


But Jimin had told him to wait on the dance floor.


He caught himself in that thought.


Jimin?


Why did he care what that guy had told him to do, he wasn’t even completely sure his name was Jimin, he was just a random guy in a club. Shaking his head he shoved his way through the swarm of the crowd, emerging victorious on the other side.


As the night had gone on it had gotten much busier in the lounge, all the booths and tables were crowded, most people having left their earlier bars to come to this one, chances were, with plans to continue to another after this.


He narrowed his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose where they had slipped down a bit, and tried to find a familiar face amongst all the people.


Finally he recognised Jongmin and headed over to him, “Oh, Jongmin-hyung,” he grunted as he reached the table.


“Yoongi-yah! We thought we’d lost you!” Jongmin grinned. The table was full of drunk men, but none of them were Taewon.


“Where’s Taewon-hyung?” Yoongi shouted over the loud occupants.


“I don’t know Yoongi-yah, try the bathroom, he found a guy,” Jongmin chuckled.


“Thanks,” Yoongi nodded.


He picked his way back across the club to the toilets, finding them as busy as they had been before.


“Lee Taewon!” He shouted into the bathroom.


A lot of men looked around, one of them shouting ‘Itaewon!’ in response, but Taewon was not one of them, “Lee Taewon!” He called again, banging on one of the cubicles.


“Lee Taewon? I’m here!” Taewon called, a hand suddenly appearing above the furthest cubicle.


“Hyung, it’s Yoongi,” Yoongi called, scowling at the guy that was standing in his way. He moved quickly and Yoongi was able to reach the end cubicle.


“Ahh Yoongi-yah, what do you want?” Taewon opened the door a little peering out at him.


“Pills,” Yoongi smiled sweetly, holding out a hand.


“You didn’t pay for the last one,” Taewon protested.


“I paid for the whole fucking tab at the Noraebang!”


“Don’t be disrespectful Yoongi,” Taewon instructed, and Yoongi gave him a filthy look which made Taewon back down quickly. “Fine, hold on.”


The door closed again, and opened a second later, three pills were placed in his hand. “Enjoy, Yoongi-yah,” he said quickly, closing the door again.


Feeling victorious Yoongi slipped them into his wallet and went to find himself a drink.


He stepped out of the bathroom, rolling his beanie up a little so it didn’t cover his ears, not paying attention to where he was going yet again.


He looked up, startled, as two hands closed around his biceps, his back hitting the wall behind him.


“Oh…Jimin-ah,” Yoongi grunted, hoping that he was right, and Jimin was actually his name, “I had to find one of my friends.”


“I told you to wait for me,” Jimin whined, narrowing his eyes a little.


“I got bored, but I have something, hold on,” he struggled to pull his wallet back out of his coat with Jimin’s hands effectively pinning him down, but he managed. “Do you like pills?” He asked.


“No,” Jimin said shaking his head, looking distrustfully down at the little white tablets.

 


“It’s great, honestly,” Yoongi said, placing one on his own tongue, deciding to dry swallow it. “Do you want one? It’s a gift, no strings attached?”


It took Jimin a moment, he took the pill from Yoongi and turned it over in his short fingers, contemplating it.


“You don’t have to—“ Yoongi began, just as Jimin popped it in his mouth. “Nice,” Yoongi said grinning. “It only takes about ten minutes, I need to smoke.”


Jimin nodded, letting go of Yoongi’s arms.


“Are you going to follow me all night?” Yoongi asked once they were outside in the bitter cold.


“Nothing better to do,” Jimin shrugged leaning against the railing, blocking Yoongi’s view of the city.


Yoongi shook his head, he breathed in some smoke, letting it float out of his mouth, breathing it quickly up his nose.


“Wahh, how did you do that!?” Jimin asked, ducking down too look at Yoongi’s face properly.


“It’s called a waterfall,” Yoongi grunted, “I did it with practice.”


“Is that your answer to everything?” Jimin asked, “Just practice?”


“How else do you achieve anything?” Yoongi asked.


“Natural talent?” Jimin suggested. Yoongi shrugged, having another drag, performing the gesture once again for Jimin’s amusement.


“Dedication,” Jimin smiled.


“Is there anything you’re naturally talented at?” Yoongi asked after a moment, thinking he could try and prove a point about practice.


“Yeah, sure,” Jimin nodded, raising his eyebrows suggestively, looking Yoongi up and down appraisingly. It wasn’t the response Yoongi had expected, but looking back he probably should have.


“You’re telling me you were fantastic your first time?” Yoongi threw back, trying to seem unaffected.


“Yes,” Jimin nodded, “That was how I discovered my natural talent.”


Yoongi narrowed his eyes, his lip curling in distaste.


“Arrogance is unattractive,” he grunted.

 

“Is it?” Jimin asked with a shrug. “I’m not your style anyway, so it doesn’t matter does it?”


“Guess so,” Yoongi huffed, pushing off the wall, leaning past Jimin to butt the cigarette on the railing and flick the stub away.


“You know,” Jimin said as he followed Yoongi back inside, “you come across as quite arrogant.”


“I’m not attractive, so it doesn’t fucking matter,” Yoongi said over his shoulder.


“Maybe you’re unattractive because you’re arrogant,” Jimin suggested, reaching out and grabbing Yoongi’s wrist again, holding tightly to it as Yoongi weaved through the crowd. “We should dance again.”


“No,” Yoongi said rounding on Jimin, “I don’t like dancing.”


“You liked dancing with me,” Jimin pointed out, stepping past Yoongi tugging him by the wrist back towards the dance floor.


This time, Yoongi didn’t have the space to try and stand still, he could feel the drugs beginning to affect him, and as soon as Jimin was content with their position on the floor, he wrapped an arm around Yoongi and pulled him in close.


Yoongi felt Jimin’s hand, flat and firm against his back.


The guy was right though, Yoongi did like dancing with him; it was easier than it usually was, he didn’t feel like he had to think about it. He wasn’t concerned with how he looked to the people around him. It didn’t seem to matter so much if people thought he looked tough, because they probably wouldn’t notice him with Jimin in front of him.


Jimin pushed their hips together, the rough denim of Yoongi’s black jeans meeting the soft wool of Jimin’s nice trousers.


Without the bottle of soju in his hand, it was even easier, at first he wasn’t sure where he should put his hands, but decided to settle for biceps, lightly gripping Jimin’s arms.


“Why do you wear this stupid thing?” Jimin said loudly in his ear, tugging irritably at Yoongi’s big puffy jacket, “It’s not cold in here.”


“It’s got all my shit in it!” Yoongi shouted back.


Jimin groaned loud against his neck, shaking his head.


Yoongi shifted forwards slightly as suddenly Jimin’s hand, the one which moments before had been gripping his waist, was sliding inside his coat. He dug it up under Yoongi’s hoodie and back around to where it had been before, only now, he could feel the cold of Jimin’s fingers against his skin, and the pressure of his nails as they dug in slightly, gripping Yoongi close to him.
Yoongi looked at Jimin, his glasses fogging up with how hot he was getting, crushed against Jimin in the middle of all the bodies moving on the dance floor.


Jimin shot him the same irritating smile, and he wondered vaguely if he was making a fool of himself. He wasn’t used to this dynamic, usually he would be the one pulling someone closer, not the other way around.


“Here,” Jimin said, taking Yoongi’s glasses off for him, putting them in the pocket of his coat.


“Thanks,” Yoongi nodded, everything was a little blurrier now, but it was nice. His head was swimming, the lights shimmering and dancing around him, glinting off the sweat on Jimin’s forehead and the shine on his nose.


Yoongi raised a hand and ran it under Jimin’s fringe, swiping the sweat off to the side. Unfortunately, he did then smear it down Jimin’s face as he cupped the curve of Jimin’s jaw.


Jimin lifted his hand to Yoongi’s chest as they moved against each other, the music hyper-tuning their focus. Gently he ran it up to Yoongi’s neck, his fingers curling around his throat. He pushed his thumb against Yoongi’s chin, making him look up and meet Jimin’s eyes.


They stayed like that, holding each others faces as they danced, Jimin’s fingers exerting a little pressure around Yoongi’s throat, making him feel dizzy and a little overwhelmed.


Drunkenly he pulled Jimin down, pressing their sweaty cheeks together.


“Does this feel good,” Jimin said thickly in Yoongi’s ear, his hand tightening for a moment before easing off again.


Yoongi nodded, not sure he could speak if he wanted to.


This was an entirely new experience, he wasn’t sure that anything had been so intense before.


He had had moments of intense mental activity; the feeling he got when he pulled off a particularly difficult hack and got away clean, that sort of ecstasy, he understood that.


This was entirely different, the drugs and the man in front of him, all the alcohol, the music and the hand around his throat; this was so different.


“You should kiss me,” Jimin added after a moment, moving slightly so he could look down at Yoongi, his eyes glinting.


Yoongi narrowed his gaze, the deep frown lines forming once again on his forehead, he was sure he looked unpleasant. He didn’t know why Jimin didn’t just grab his face and do the job himself.


He hesitated for a moment, his eyes falling to Jimin’s very plump lips, wondering if he should or not, or if he should draw the moment out slightly longer.


Jimin’s hand moved from his throat drifting down his chest, digging into the material of his hoodie.


Yoongi nodded slowly, sliding his hand into Jimin’s hair, gripping it tightly.


He stopped just short of pressing their mouths together, his nose bumping against Jimin’s, his breath hot against Yoongi’s lips.


The drugs were so good, all he wanted to do right now was be as close to Jimin as he possibly could, and the idea of being able to kiss someone was infinitely exciting.


He was hoping that the act itself would be just as satisfying, but in case it wasn’t he wanted to hold onto this moment for a little longer; breathing in the hot alcohol tinged air between them, the feeling of Jimin’s body moving against his, the hand gripping his back, the nails digging into his skin.


“Hyung,” Jimin muttered, “Come on.”


Yoongi nodded again and finally closed the distance.


The moment their lips met he knew he had made the right decision, it was so much better than just breathing in front of Jimin, and he had no idea why he ever thought it wouldn’t be.


“Fuck,” he mumbled, his fingers digging harder into Jimin’s hair. He opened his mouth, letting Jimin’s tongue find his, pushing together wetly.


Jimin’s hand moved back up to his throat, keeping his head in place as they kissed.


Yoongi had no idea how long they had been going for, but when Jimin’s grip on his neck finally let up and their mouths broke apart he felt shaky and breathless.


He stumbled a little, letting Jimin hold all his weight. His head felt too heavy, a great blob sat atop his shoulders, so he let it fall, thumping against Jimin’s chest.


“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin smiled crookedly, “Do you need some water?”


“Yes,” Yoongi nodded, weakly.


He let Jimin wrap an arm around his waist and ease him over to the bar, calling the bartender over to ask for a bottle of water, which was quickly procured.


Jimin sat him down on a stool and opened the lid for him, putting it in his hand and helping his hand up to his mouth.


Yoongi drank greedily, suddenly desperately thirsty. He finished most of the bottle before he let his hand fall, slumping over slightly, trying to catch his breath.


Jimin took off his beanie and blew on Yoongi’s head, cooling him down a little.


“Get rid of this,” he urged, tugging at the big coat. Yoongi nodded and Jimin pulled it down his arms, folding it carefully and setting it aside on the stool next to them.


Jimin stood in front of him and watched Yoongi try to compose himself. Yoongi scrubbed at his face, his lips feeling tender and swollen as he pulled at them.


“Hey, stop,” Jimin muttered, taking Yoongi’s hand, lifting his face up to look at him.


He bent down pressing a much more gentle kiss to Yoongi’s mouth, moving cautiously.


Yoongi let out a slow shaky breath, pulling away to have some more water, Jimin’s lips resting lightly against his cheek as he drank. Yoongi slung an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, hugging him casually as he finished off the bottle, crumpling it up in his hand.


“Here,” Jimin said, taking it off him to put on the bar, “are you okay?” He asked, looking curiously down at Yoongi.


“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Yoongi nodded, looking down at Jimin’s hands which were resting on his knee’s, his fingers splayed gripping them slightly.


“Was it too much?” He asked cautiously.


“No!” Yoongi said quickly, shaking his head.


“Alright,” Jimin nodded, “I just wanted to make sure.”


Yoongi wrapped his fingers around one of Jimin’s wrists, squeezing experimentally.


Jimin smiled, wide and bright, he leant forward, kissing Yoongi again, just a brief press of his lips before straightening up again. “Do you want to look for your friends?” He asked, looking around as though they might appear suddenly.


“I should, I should at least check on Taehyung-ie.”


“Sounds good, I’ll help you, come on,” Jimin nodded, grabbing Yoongi’s coat for him, wrapping an arm easily around his waist.


“They might be in the lounge,” Yoongi suggested, letting Jimin lead them across the club, half supporting him. There were less people now, Yoongi assumed many had moved on to their next drinking spot.


He spotted Jongmin where he had been last time, and thankfully across the table from him was Taehyung.


“Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung called as he spotted them approaching. Yoongi detangled himself quickly from Jimin, stumbling a little on his way, ending up having to grip the edge of the table for support. “Oh hyung, your drunk,” Taehyung laughed.


“What and you aren’t!” Yoongi barked, scowling at Taehyung, making him cackle happily.


“Calm down,” Taehyung laughed, leaning away from Youngsik so he could pat Yoongi’s head, “How’s your night been, Jimin-ssi,” Taehyung asked, “everyone, this is Park Jimin,” he added, gesturing to the man at Yoongi’s back.


“That’s me, Park Jimin,” he smiled, bowing, as six heads bowed back at him.


“Is that an accent?” Jongmin asked, leaning back to survey Jimin.


“Yeah, Busan,” Jimin explained.


“You’re not from Seoul?” Yoongi asked, pushing himself back up off the table, Jimin placing a hand on his back to keep him upright.


“Nope, you couldn’t tell?” Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling into his cheeks once more. Yoongi shook his head shrugging, that wasn't entirely surprising, if he didn’t like someone he tended not to pay attention to them.


And an hour ago, he definitely believed that he didn’t like Jimin; he wasn’t 100% on where he stood now, but he was working through it.


“Jimin-ssi!” Taewon said, leaning froward from the end of the table, “Have a drink!”


Jimin nodded politely and took the glass that was offered to him, turning his head to have a mouthful.


“So now you can be polite?” Yoongi asked, narrowing his eyes at Jimin.


“These friends aren’t being arrogant,” Jimin grinned.


“Wah, you’re really too much,” Yoongi grunted, shaking his head.


Jimin cocked his head, leaning forward to put the glass back down, his hand drifting down Yoongi’s back, sliding into his back pocket.


Yoongi fell silent for a moment, as Jimin answered the crowd’s questions about who he was and how old he was and if he had eaten tonight.


“Taehyung-ah,” he said finally, “Are you going to stay much longer?”


Taehyung looked sideways at Youngsik who shrugged saying something quiet in Taehyung’s ear.


“Should we drink at home?” Taehyung asked.


“Yeah,” Yoongi agreed, “lets go.”


It was what he had been waiting to hear, the club was starting to grate on his nerves.


“Are you coming, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung said, climbing up from his seat, Youngsik following him.


“Yep,” Jimin agreed easily as though he and Yoongi had had some sort of conversation about it.


“Ohhh, Yoongi-yah, you’re really a man tonight,” Taewon joked thumping the table happily.


“Keep your mouth shut, hyung” Yoongi shot at him, his lip curling up, he felt like he was being laughed at it and he really resented it. “Come on,’ he said through grated teeth, reaching behind him to take Jimin’s hand off his ass.


“Yah! Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin called at his back as Yoongi turned, “I’ll call you.”


“Sure!” Yoongi agreed, waving one hand carelessly, putting all his focus on getting out of the club.


Hitting the street felt like an IV of vitamins, he felt instantly lighter, the freezing air making his skin tingle.


“Should we go to the store and get more drinks?” Taehyung asked, hurrying to his side, Youngsik and Jimin lagging behind them.


“Sure,” Yoongi agreed, he turned to look at Jimin gesturing for his coat which was deposited in his hands.


He pulled it up his arms and grabbed his mask out of the pocket, hooking it over his ears, pushing his glasses back onto his face.


Taehyung complained that they should get a taxi as they weaved their way down the still very busy street.


“I want to walk, you can get a taxi if you want,” Yoongi snapped, keeping his eyes on the footpath in front of him, following the crisscrossed brickwork.


“Hyung,” Taehyung sighed, “Did you at least have a good night?”


“It was fine,” Yoongi grunted. He had had better nights, that was for sure, but he had managed to somehow pick up a random man, who was now following him home, so that was a tentative upside.


The kiss on the dance floor had been incredible, but the conversation was deeply lacking, though he supposed they didn’t really have to talk, and then tomorrow he would never have to see him again.


“Keep up,” Yoongi shot at them, hopping out into the street, taking advantage of the red light that was keeping the cars at bay.


They picked their way down an alley, heavy with the rank smell of rotting vegetables, avoiding the trash strewn across the concrete, and emerged on another street full of bright neon lights.
Yoongi lead them back through the empty marketplace, and out into the much quieter neighbourhood that they occupied.


He stopped in front of the convenience store, waiting for Taehyung and Youngsik to catch up.


“Do you need anything?” Jimin asked, his hands buried in the pockets of his nice woollen coat.


“Nope,” Yoongi said shaking his head.


“You don’t need to eat?”


“There’s food at the apartment, it’s fine,” Yoongi shrugged, rubbing his cold fingers together.


“Here,” Jimin smiled, pulling his hands out of his pockets, wrapping them around Yoongi’s.


“Hyung!” Taehyung called, catching up to them, “I didn’t bring my card, do you think you could buy the drinks for me?”


“Leech,” Yoongi sighed, “Just take the phone, you know the fucking password, get whatever you want.”


He let go of Jimin’s hand to pull out his phone, passing it to Taehyung.


“Oh hyung, really? Wahhh,” he grinned. “Thank you!”


“You’re very nice to him,” Jimin noted, once Taehyung and Youngsik were inside the brightly lit convenience store.


“I care for him,” Yoongi shrugged.


“It’s nice,” Jimin smiled, taking Yoongi’s hand again, “You’re nice, Min Yoongi.”

 

 

Chapter Text

 

YOONGI

Taehyung burst into the shop, throwing himself carelessly throw a rack of bagged clothes, appearing around the corner again a second later.

“This is our home,” he grinned back at Jimin.

“This is a laundry service,” Jimin pointed out, squinting in the bright fluorescent lights.

“Yep, and we live here,” Taehyung smiled, stretching himself across the counter, his shirt completely lifting up, exposing his whole chest and midriff.

“You’re shameless,” Yoongi grumbled, stepping past the younger man, heading directly for the beaded curtain, sliding the door open.

He didn’t bother to tell Jimin to follow him, figuring he’d probably get the idea.

“Home again?” Hyunah muttered from the computer, “is Taehyung getting slapped?”

Yoongi didn’t know how to tell her that Taehyung would in fact not be getting slapped, and that trailing after him was the man that had held him by the throat in the middle of a dance floor and kissed him into breathlessness.

He kept his mouth shut, trudging past her to the fridge. “Did it not go well Yoongi-yah?” She asked, finally looking away from the computer to assess his black silhouette in the dim light cast by the TV and monitors.

“Noona!” Taehyung exclaimed, pushing through the bead curtain, pulling a very drunk Youngsik along behind him.

“Wahh, my dongsaeng, home so late!” She scolded.

“Noona,” he whined, letting go of Youngsik to go to Hyunah, plopping himself down squarely in her lap.

“You fucking stink,” she complained as he hung himself across her.

“I’m wearing cologne,” he complained.

“It’s not masking the smell of alcohol and urinal cakes unfortunately,” Hyunah grumbled wrinkling her nose.

Taehyung made an attempt to smell himself, but must have realised how ridiculous he looked, and opted instead for burying his face in Hyunah’s hair while he laughed hysterically.

“Has he lost his mind?” She asked Yoongi as he started slamming food down on the counter, ripping lids off the containers with vigour. He’d managed to locate some very dry rice, old tteokbokki, and a gargantuan pink container of kimchi.

“Yes,” Yoongi nodded, wrenching a draw open to pull out a spoon. He bent over the huge tub of kimchi his mother had made for him and started stuffing it in his mouth, grabbing rice cakes with his free hand.

“Um, who are you?” Hyunah asked, looking away from the beast in the kitchen to the slender figure who had just stepped into their back room.

“Oh, hi,” Jimin said bowing, introducing himself.

“Hi,” Hyunah agreed, “One of yours?” She asked Taehyung, shaking him a little to get him to open his eyes and sit up.

“Oh? Nope, hyung’s,” he grinned excitedly at Hyunah.

“Hyung’s?” She asked accusingly, turning her attention back to Yoongi. He didn’t bother answering, his mouth too full to speak. His eyes were narrowed and unimpressed, staying resolutely off the guy hovering in their doorway.

He definitely didn’t look like a man who was excited that he had scored at a nightclub, he seemed just as irritable as he usually was; perhaps even more so.

His irritation very quickly increased as Jimin wandered across the apartment, side stepping the piles of clothes and odd pillows; not to mention all the cast off electronics creating minefields for foot traffic. Brushing past Yoongi, into the kitchenette, taking the spoon from his hand, bringing some tteokbokki to his own mouth.

“Mmm, it’s good,” he nodded, looking down at Yoongi’s slack face.

“Yoongi-hyung’s Eomma makes it for us,” Taehyung said, pushing himself up from Hyunah’s lap, walking back to Youngsik, “Isn’t it incredible?” He asked, “Since this noona won’t ever cook for us,” he laughed.

“Stop talking, Taehyung-ah,” Hyunah threatened.

“Noona, you’re a thug,” Yoongi mumbled, trying to swallow his food.

“I’m just saying it would be nice noona, not saying you have to,” Taehyung urged as he was lead by Youngsik towards the door to the courtyard, “Oh, noona, is it okay if I have the room tonight?”

But he didn’t wait for a reply, the door closed again before Hyunah could shout ‘get fucked!’

“I’m losing my mind,” she groaned, pulling her legs up on the chair, picking up her half empty bottle of soju, “You’re gonna have to get Hoseok out of your room, Yoongi-yah, I’m not doing it,” she warned him.

Yoongi looked towards the door, a new realisation hitting him; he had actually brought this guy home, he wasn’t going to be able to keep acting like he had come home by himself for much longer.

Maybe he could just find Jimin a bed roll and put him in the lounge, cross his fingers, hope that he was gone by the morning.

But then he thought about the possibility of being with someone for the first time in many many months. It might be good, it had been a long and stressful dry spell, he had gone through a lot since the last time he had had sex.

The bizarre drug deal had been a tough one, figuring out how they had ended up with a shipping container of pills and chemicals that they then had to sell online was incredibly taxing.

Especially since the organised crime and narcotics department had been reshuffled in Seoul, and the crackdown was amping up to unheard of levels.

Then their system had then been hacked by some mob in Russia and he had had to take down everything and rebuild their server from scratch; that had also sucked.

There had just been too much happening recently for him to worry about his lack of love life. But of course, on the flip side, did he want that dry spell to be broken with this annoying guy?

“I am a bit tired actually,” Jimin said, turning to lean against the counter, one hand casually resting on Yoongi’s hip.

“Really, all of a sudden?” Yoongi asked, meeting Jimin’s dark smiling eyes. Jimin shrugged, pressing his thumb lightly against Yoongi’s prominent hip bone. “Fine, I’ll go get Hoseok-ah,” he grunted, pushing away from the counter, “Put that shit back in the fridge.”

“Can do!” Jimin agreed cheerfully, having another mouthful of kimchi and rice before carefully putting the lids back on the containers.

Yoongi stepped out into the courtyard, quickly pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one as he wearily climbed the steps.

“Hoseok-ah,” he called, sliding the door open so he could sit down on the ledge, “Hoseok-ah, wake up.”

Yoongi dropped his face into his hands, waiting for Hoseok to stir, it usually took him a second after you tried to wake him for it to actually sink in.

Just as he had predicted a minute later Hoseok grunted and shifted around in the darkness, “What?” He mumbled.

“Pull your bed into the lounge, and don’t say a fucking word to me about it.”

“Hyung!” Hoseok groaned, “are you serious.”

“Just do it Hoseok-ah, I’ll buy you steak tomorrow,” Yoongi promised, drawing deeply on his cigarette.

“Give me some of that,” Hoseok sighed, gathering his things together, pulling them over to the door, sitting down next to Yoongi.

He plucked the cigarette from his outstretched fingers, “You made the butt wet,” Hoseok complained as he had a drag.

“I didn’t think I’d been sharing it,” Yoongi said shaking his head.

“So, who is he? I heard Taehyung come back, who’s he with?”

“Taehyung is with Byeon Youngsik again,” Yoongi said, the two of them looking down the walkway to the room next to there’s. The light was off but they could hear muffled sounds through the thin door.

“And you?” Hoseok pressed.

“He’s just some random guy, you can see him when you go inside, tell him to come out here,” Yoongi sighed, taking his cigarette back, “go on, fuck off.”

“I’m gonna get slapped,” Hoseok grumbled to himself as he picked up his bed roll and blankets, carrying them down the steps. “Hyung, if you don’t fuck him, I won’t get slapped, and I’ll buy you steak,” Hoseok offered as he slid the door open with his foot.

“Maybe,” Yoongi shrugged.

Hoseok swore under his breath as he ducked inside, closing the door behind him and Yoongi was left by himself.

He looked down at his cigarette watching it spark slightly, the paper glowing red for a moment. He let out a sigh, inspecting his grimy hands, he should probably wash them, he had shit under his nails, his palms covered in something sticky, as well as the red sauce of the rice cakes.

With a grimace he spat on them and scrubbed them against his thighs trying to clean them a little.

“Fuck it,” he sighed, leaning back against the wall.

“Oh.”

Yoongi looked up to see Jimin coming through the back door, “This is old, I didn’t know this was here,” he said, taking in the traditional buildings in the courtyard. “Did it used to keep going over here?” He asked, pointing to where the fence cut the courtyard in half.

Yoongi shrugged, he’d thought that himself and had decided that it had probably once been a much bigger courtyard with buildings on both sides, but they had been demolished in construction, only the ones on their side now remained.

He watched Jimin inspect the area, and noticed a bottle of soju in his hand.

“Are you still drinking?” Yoongi asked.

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded.

“Here,” Yoongi urged, holding out his hand for the booze, “Don’t make me ask respectfully, just give me the fucking bottle.” He caught the look on Jimin’s face, he wasn’t impressed with how impolite Yoongi was being, but Yoongi was handed the bottle anyway and Jimin sat down in Hoseok’s spot.

“So this is your room?” Jimin asked, peering inside the dark confines, “It stinks,” he pointed out.

“I can’t smell it,” Yoongi grunted having a mouthful, it was a lie, he knew it smelled disgusting, especially after Hoseok had been sleeping in there for, assumedly, a few hours.
Jimin took the bottle back off him as Yoongi lit another cigarette.

“What’s the time?” Jimin asked, crossing one long leg over the other.

Yoongi pulled out his phone, swiping a few missed calls away from the screen so he could see the time, “4,” he said shortly.

“Come on, I’m tired,” Jimin decided, putting the bottle inside the door, plucking the cigarette from Yoongi’s hands flicking it into the courtyard.

He climbed into the room, reaching back for Yoongi, managing to catch his wrist, “Is there a light?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s over there,” Yoongi said pointing to the tall lamp on the other side of the room.

“Turn it on,” Jimin said, nodding at it.

Yoongi frowned slightly but managed to get to his feet and stumble to the corner, fumbling for the switch. He flicked it on and the room was suddenly bathed in warm orange light from the nearly burnt out bulb.

He looked back to see Jimin sitting with his back against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Show me your tattoos,” he said quietly, meeting Yoongi’s eyes through thick lashes.

“You’ve seen them,” Yoongi countered awkwardly.

“Show me again,” Jimin smiled, raising one eyebrow, “I’m interested.”

After a moment of hesitation Yoongi pulled his hoodie off over his head, his beanie coming off with it.

“Better?” He asked, opening his arms wide for Jimin, turning around so he could see his back as well.

“Do you have any on your legs?” Jimin asked curiously, pushing off from the wall, shuffling across the room on his knees.

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded, watching Jimin’s progress. He stopped in front of him, kneeling comfortably.

“Show me,” Jimin nodded.

Yoongi could feel the flush blooming across his pale chest, but he ignored it, biting down on his pride. He could strip in front of Jimin and still maintain his image.

Carelessly he undid his jeans and kicked them off.

“Not as many,” he grunted, looking down at the few tattoos that littered his thighs.

Jimin brought up both his hands, running them from Yoongi’s knees up his thighs, not even looking at the tattoos.

“Take these off,” Jimin muttered, tugging slightly on Yoongi’s boxers making them slide down his skinny hips a little.

Yoongi took a breath, this was definitely going to happen, Hoseok was going to get slapped.

Clenching his teeth he pushed his underwear off, kicking them away.

Jimin smiled up at him, his lips parting slightly, he leant forwards to press a kiss against Yoongi’s thigh, running his mouth up to his navel.

Yoongi could feel himself responding to the touches, the flush spreading up his neck.

Jimin’s hands gripped his hips, his fingers digging in against his skin.

“What do you want me to do Min Yoongi?” Jimin asked, looking up at him.

“Whatever you want,” Yoongi shrugged, not sure what he was supposed to do.

“What if what I want to do, is go back inside and eat the rest of your rice cakes?” He asked, looking from Yoongi down to his very interested cock, “I could just leave you in here?”

“Do what you want,” Yoongi persisted, his nostrils flaring a little, did Jimin have to be infuriating right now?

Jimin got to his feet, tilting his head curiously, looking down at Yoongi. He brought up a hand, sliding it up Yoongi’s chest to his throat.

“What if I want to hold you down and fuck you till I come?” Jimin asked in the most nonchalant voice.

Yoongi’s eyes fluttered closed as Jimin exerted a slight pressure against his neck, pushing Yoongi back against the wall behind him.

Slowly he pressed their bodies together, keeping Yoongi bracketed with a hand on his throat and another at his hip, pushing him against the rough material of the old wallpaper.

“You’re so easy,” Jimin muttered, “Do you know that?”

Yoongi kept his eyes shut, bringing up his hands to grip Jimin’s back. “Open your eyes, look at me,” Jimin muttered, squeezing a little tighter around his throat.

Yoongi opened his eyes dopily, looking up at Jimin.

“You didn’t answer me; do you know how easy you are?” He asked again, looking between Yoongi’s eyes.

Yoongi nodded, his mouth falling open.

Jimin nodded in response, seeming pleased, he bent down and captured Yoongi’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it slightly, “Is this okay?” He whispered against Yoongi’s mouth.

“Yes,” Yoongi nodded.

“You like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Jimin fell silent, pushing their lips together in earnest, Yoongi felt desperate and amped up, the kiss was like a fight. He tried to make it deeper, to pull Jimin closer, but he kept moving away, pulling back, making Yoongi struggle against his grip. Yoongi groaned deep in his throat letting his head bang back painfully against the wall, as Jimin started pressing wet open mouthed kisses down his neck, dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin.

Yoongi was going to lose his mind, he tried to grind down against Jimin’s thigh, but Jimin moved it back slightly.

“Stop it, aren’t you too shameless?” Jimin asked, tightening his grip, pushing Yoongi’s head back. “I’m trying to decide what to do with you, and you’re making it difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi mumbled formally, making Jimin chuckle.

“You’re getting the idea. Good.”

“Are you going to keep me here forever,” Yoongi grunted as Jimin continued to kiss aimlessly across his shoulders and chest.

“If I want to. It’s not like you’re going to stop me,” he pointed out.

That was true, so Yoongi tried to relax, but it was incredibly hard.

Jimin was pressed against him, his mouth was soft and distracting.

He took a shaky breath, loosening the grip his fingers had on Jimin’s sweater, letting them hang at his side, he kept his eyes open because Jimin had said he didn’t like it when they were shut.

A million thoughts ran through his mind, but he couldn’t properly grasp any of them, he tried to come up with something he could do to hurry this along, but all he could focus on was the hand at his throat.

This was not how things usually progressed, his experiences had been unanimously similar. Find somewhere flat; take your clothes off, foreplay, and then move on to the sex.

What was this? Jimin was still fully clothed, and this could hardly be called foreplay; but for some reason Yoongi was fairly sure he had never felt this crazy before.

It was like his skin was on fire, tingling and itchy; it was almost unpleasant.

“You look so tough Yoongi-yah, like a thug,” Jimin mumbled, pulling back, standing at arms length away from him, keeping him against the wall by his throat. Yoongi felt like he was being laughed at again, how could he look tough like this?

Maybe it was just his face and its permanently unpleasant look.

Jimin on the other hand looked beautiful, his hair had come out of it’s careful style and was hanging down across one side of his face in soft waves caused by the sweat from the club. His eyes were fully blown, probably from the drugs, but Yoongi hoped maybe also from desire.

He was slim and clean and gorgeous, and Yoongi wondered for the first time why this random guy had decided to take him home.

Maybe Jimin had a kink for fucking gangsters, maybe he thought that Yoongi was far more dangerous than he really was.

Yoongi tried to push off the wall, but was quickly slammed back against it.

“I can’t do much from here,” he pointed out, managing to grab Jimin’s sweater, pulling on it so that it came untucked from his trousers.

Jimin laughed at him, but let Yoongi tug him out of the tightly fitted turtle neck which was also discarded on the dirty floor.

He let his eyes roam across Jimin’s very pleasant torso, he was well toned and Yoongi thought he must work out, which was a stark comparison to his own very untoned and bony chest.

Jimin’s skin was darker than his, golden and smooth in the warm light. He reached up to grip Jimin’s wrist, pulling him away from his throat a little.

“Let me,” he urged, reaching for Jimin’s hip.

“Please?” Jimin prompted.

“Please.” Yoongi shot, pushing the hand away and finally stepping into Jimin’s space, pulling their hips together. “You’re gorgeous you know?” He muttered letting his lips drag across Jimin’s chest.

“I thought you said I wasn’t your style,” Jimin pointed out.

“You look different now,” Yoongi mumbled, his hands falling to Jimin’s belt fumbling to get it undone.

“You look the same,” Jimin muttered, his arms wrapping around Yoongi’s shoulders, pulling him closer to his chest.

Yoongi had a vague memory of Jimin saying that he didn't think that Yoongi was attractive; that he liked guys that looked after themselves. But he disregarded it, finally shoving Jimin’s pants down.

“Come on,” he urged, stepping out of Jimin’s arms.

The bedroll was still where he had left it, but he knelt down to straighten the dirty blanket a little. He felt Jimin’s hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“I’m not ready to lay down,” he muttered, “Turn around.”

Quickly, Yoongi obliged, accidentally pulling the blanket with him as he swivelled. It ruined the work he had done, but he ignored it to attend to the task at hand.

It had been a while since he had given someone a blow job, but it was something he very much enjoyed, and it wasn’t something he had ever had complaints about in the past.

He tended to treat blow jobs the same way he treated eating, he just put as much as he could in his mouth at one time; and it really wasn’t pretty to look at.

Thankfully it seemed like the guy enjoyed it, and his grip on the back of Yoongi’s head never let up, pushing him down further.

At one point Yoongi genuinely thought he was going to be sick and gripped the blanket around his knees as he gagged, tears and saliva collecting on his chin and running down his flushed chest.

Suddenly Jimin dropped down to his knee’s, lifting Yoongi’s head, peering at him.

“You’re disgusting,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand across Yoongi’s face, covering him in his own filth.

Jimin rested his fingers under Yoongi’s mouth, “Spit,” he ordered, before he pushed Yoongi back down on the bed roll and settled himself easily between his legs.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi said quickly, having a sudden realisation. It had been a long time since he’d had sex, and even longer since he had bottomed for someone.

The last person had been the owner of the second ‘X’ above his heart; his ex-boyfriend. But that was nearly three years ago. “It’s been a while,” he managed looking up at Jimin’s beautiful face.

“It’s okay,” Jimin agreed, “I’ll be gentle with you,” he assured him.

 

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

 

Yoongi was laying on his back, with his head hanging out of the door, trying to cool himself down.

“Fuck,” he mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth, the smoke burning as it slid down his incredibly tender throat.

“You okay?” Jimin asked from where he was sitting cross legged on the bed roll. Hoseok’s oversized t-shirt was hanging over his slender frame. Yoongi had very few shirts, unlike Hoseok, so he had decided to sacrifice one of his friends, rather one of the few in his possession.

Yoongi nodded, fanning his face a little taking another deep breath.

He felt like his whole body was throbbing, over heating, he felt lazy and drunk.

“The sun’s coming up,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

“Shit,” Jimin said, peering through the door.

“You do have an accent don’t you,” Yoongi noted, the way Jimin cursed was very unique, the only person he knew who swore like him was his mother, who herself sported broad Gyeongsang dialect.

“Yeah,” Jimin laughed, “You really don’t pay attention to other people do you?”

“Nah, I just don’t notice things like accents,” Yoongi shrugged.

Slowly and carefully he sat up, wincing as he moved.

He extinguished his cigarette, sliding the door closed again behind him. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” he warned Jimin.

“No, you need to shower,” Jimin said shaking his head, “You do own a shower right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not having one now, I’m going to sleep,” Yoongi protested.

“No, come on, we’re going to shower,” he decided, pulling himself easily to his feet before much more gently lifting Yoongi.

He helped Yoongi pull on a loose pair of track pants, and kept one deceptively strong arm around his waist as Yoongi directed them back into the main apartment, tip toeing through the lounge. Both Hoseok and Hyunah were snoring, fast asleep facing each other on the floor in front of the TV; which was still playing the shopping channel.

“It’s through here,” Yoongi whispered, taking Jimin past the kitchenette. They slipped in past the sliding door and into the tiny washroom.

Yoongi flicked on the fluorescent light, waiting a moment for it to flicker into life.

“I’ll run the shower,” Jimin assured him, letting Yoongi lean against the basin.

Yoongi nodded, turning to face the mirror, he was shocked by his appearance, his throat was a mess, red and puffy, very distinct marks that were the beginning of bruises were forming on his skin, along with the half moon cuts of Jimin’s nails.

He didn’t know when it had happened, but his lip must have gotten cut because it was swollen and he could see the split, though only vaguely without his glasses.

There was a small cut high up on his cheek bone where he thought Jimin might have hit him at one point.

He had a few marks on his chest, and he didn’t even want to think about what his ass must look like, it was sore enough.

“Come on,” Jimin muttered, helping Yoongi back out of his pants. He whipped his own shirt off one handed as he eased Yoongi into the shower and stepped in after him, sliding the glass door closed behind them.

Yoongi knew that their shower was disgusting, but he was too dopey and calm to care, he was used to the mould and the empty bottles and excess of hair that covered every inch of the once white tiles.

He leant contentedly against Jimin’s chest, enjoying the very new sensation of having someone else wash him. He lifted his arms and turned as he was instructed, he felt like he was floating, the hot water releasing all the tension in his limbs.

“Fuck…I feel,” he mumbled as Jimin lifted his face, running a very gentle thumb across his lips, swiping warm water across his cheeks, being careful of the cut but making sure he was clean.

“You okay?” Jimin asked again, wrapping his arms around Yoongi.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agreed, closing his eyes, crossing his own arms over Jimin’s back. Now that he was in the shower he realised that it had been the best idea in the world, he was sure in that moment that nothing had ever been better, he had never felt better than this.

There was nothing in his mind, nothing he was worrying about, he didn’t care how he looked, how much shit he needed to do, or the amount of people that were probably trying to work out who he was and how they could get to him.

“We can go back now,” Jimin muttered.

“Wait a while, the hot water will run out soon, just wait,” Yoongi urged, happy being where he was.

Jimin agreed, leaning his face against Yoongi’s neck, pressing his lips carefully against the bruises he had created.

Yoongi realised that Jimin wasn’t actually that much taller than him; he was sure that he remembered him having a good few inches on him at the club, but now they were eye to eye.
Maybe he’d been wearing heeled shoes.

Yoongi let his mind wander, going over the euphoric images flashing across his memory.

Eventually he was lead back to bed, Jimin finding him a clean shirt to pull on, the chill beginning to seep into his bones now that the high was wearing off.

With one pitiful pillow between them they curled up under the thin blanket, their limbs tangled.

Yoongi fell asleep almost the instant he lay down, his mouth falling open.

Jimin took a little longer, staring at the man in front of him, watching the way his eyes moved beneath his eyelids, but eventually he too drifted off.

 

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

 

When Yoongi woke up, Jimin was still laying next to him, breathing slowly.

It was now completely day light, and it was raining, the sound of it hitting the stones in the courtyard echoing into his room.

He wondered if that was what had woken him, but strangely he didn’t feel tired.

Tentatively he sat up, checking his body. The shower had definitely helped, but he was still incredibly sore.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin from behind him.

“Mmm,” Yoongi hummed.

“Can you get some food?” Jimin asked, reaching out a hand, resting it over Yoongi’s stomach, “I’m starving, can we eat?”

“What do you want?”

“Something warm, not just snacks,” Jimin groaned, carefully moving Yoongi back into his arms for a moment, holding his face gently.

“I can make something,” Yoongi mumbled, wrapping an arm around Jimin’s waist.

“Mmm, cook something for me, I’d love that,” Jimin nodded, pressing their lips together, being cautious incase Yoongi’s mouth hurt too much.

Yoongi however didn’t care at all, he pulled Jimin a little closer, deepening the kiss easily, wondering if maybe instead of cooking he could just stay in bed like this and continue to be treated like he was something precious.

“Go and cook,” Jimin said after a moment, “Or we’ll be here all day.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Yoongi grumbled.

“Yes, you’re breath is disgusting, brush your teeth while your in there,” he urged. Yoongi shook his head angrily, but broke away from Jimin anyway, slowly getting to his feet, his legs feeling incredibly weak.

“Go back to sleep for a while,” he told Jimin as he slid the door open, “I’ll be back with food.”

Jimin nodded his face seeming brighter, his wide smile was definitely less annoying this morning than it had seemed last night.

Running through the rain to get to the house was agony, and Yoongi was panting slightly as he ducked into the lounge.

Everyone looked very seedy, sitting around the table in warm cardigans and sweaters cross legged staring at the TV silently.

“Oh! Hyung,” Hoseok said looking up as Yoongi walked in.

“Morning,” Yoongi nodded.

He grabbed a hoodie off the floor and pulled it on.

“How’d it go?” Hoseok pushed, clearly hoping it had gone very badly.

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi said, the younger man looking up.

“Yeah?”

“You can slap Hoseok,” he grunted, finding some socks and yanking them awkwardly on his feet.

“Really?” Taehyung asked, perking up a little. “Where are you going?”

“To the store,” Yoongi shrugged.

“Can I come?” Taehyung pressed, already getting up.

“I guess.”

He pulled on his big coat and his beanie, pausing to wipe his glasses clean before sliding them carefully onto his tender face.

“Do you know where the umbrella is?” Yoongi asked, looking at Hoseok and Hyunah who were still sitting on their bed rolls, their blankets pulled around their shoulders.

“Nope,” they muttered simultaneously, Hoseok looking very unimpressed.

Yoongi shook his head, cursing them quickly as he started to dig around the lounge.

Finally he pulled it out from under someones discarded shopping bag.

“Taehyung-ah, come on,” he called, watching Taehyung wearily try to pull his sneakers on, finally deciding to just push the backs in and slip them on lazily.

Taehyung followed him through the laundromat and out into the street, both of them huddled under the umbrella.

“Hyung,” Taehyung sighed, “I feel like shit.”

“I bet,” Yoongi nodded, “are you okay though, how was…everything?”

“Yeah, I think it’s fine, Youngsik-hyung is…cool,” Taehyung said uncertainly, “He left already, but he sent me a message before…I dunno.”

“What did it say?” Yoongi asked.

“Hyung, I think he wants to date,” Taehyung whined, “I don’t like him that much.”

Yoongi let out a short laugh, scratching his chin.

“Why does this shit always happen to you?” Yoongi sighed, wrapping an arm around Taehyung, his wrist twinging a little as he extended it.

“I really dunno,” Taehyung muttered, shaking his head. “What about you though, how was it with Jimin-ah, did you…?”

“Obviously, or else you wouldn’t be able to hit Hoseok,” Yoongi pointed out.

“No, hyung, I got that, what I meant was…” Taehyung paused, clearly trying to find a respectful way to ask Yoongi if he had fucked Jimin, or if they’d just messed around.

“We did,” Yoongi finished, putting Taehyung out of his agony.

“That friend must feel as bad as I do,” Taehyung laughed.

“Nah,” Yoongi said shaking his head, “I think you and I are…probably in the same boat.”

“You mean you…hyung, I thought you didn’t…”

Yoongi looked straight ahead, keeping his mouth shut, this was probably one of the most awkward conversations he thought he had had with Taehyung. Comparable only to the first time Taehyung had decided they should bond over being queer and had asked Yoongi what his preferences were. Which was where Taehyung had gotten the idea that Yoongi never bottomed in the first place. He had mentioned off handedly that he didn’t like too, mostly just because he wanted the conversation to end.

The truth was somewhat more complicated than that; Yoongi didn’t like feeling that he was weak, or that he didn’t have control. However last night with Jimin had changed that somewhat.

Having no control could be incredible, for a few hours he hadn’t had to worry about anything. Which was why he was going to cook breakfast for the man he had left in his bed, and if Jimin texted him, he wasn’t going to ignore it.

“Was it good?” Taehyung asked as they ducked into the convenience store.

“Yeah it was good,” Yoongi nodded, pulling the collar of the turtle neck he was wearing up a little higher, keeping all his bruises safely hidden.

“Youngsik-hyung was fine, we were too drunk though,” Taehyung sighed as they started cruising the aisles. “I fell over at one point and smashed my knee, it’s totally swollen now. I think I might have also elbowed him in the face,” Taehyung laughed, grabbing a banana milk, pausing for a second before grabbing a second. “What do you need to buy?”

“No clue, I’m gonna cook something, my only direction is something warm.”

“You’re going to cook?!” Taehyung exclaimed.

“Don’t act so shocked,” Yoongi snapped.

“Hyung, come on, I didn’t mean that, I just meant, you don’t like cooking,” Taehyung protested.

“I don’t, but I’m going to.”

“Well shouldn’t we go to the mart?”

“I can’t be bothered, I’ll make him something from here and he can deal with it.”

Yoongi looked around, trying to find something that was within his capabilities. He decided to make his hangover special, and grabbed hotteok, some eggs and ham.

He was worried that wouldn’t be enough so he also grabbed a few packets of hot and sour soup.

He was drawn in by the steaming temptation of the hoppang case, the meaty smells swirling out at him from the buns. In the end, he also grabbed a curry one and a beef one to eat on the way home.

His items aside, there ended up being many many more that Taehyung put down next to his, looking across at him awkwardly, “I forgot my wallet.”

“Taehyung-ah, you have a job!” Yoongi growled, pulling out his card.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung winced.

“You’re carrying the bags,” he shot as he pressed his card to the reader, thanking the young guy who served them.

“Yes, hyung!” Taehyung nodded earnestly, picking them all up and hurrying after Yoongi.

They walked the rest of the way home in a slightly awkward silence, eating their way through their hoppang, Taehyung asking a few questions about the ID he’d been trying to get, which Yoongi disregarded, or talked his way out of.

Though Taehyung was involved in a lot of things they did, basically because he had no sense of what was good for him, and would just end up getting himself involved anyway; Yoongi tried to keep him out of a lot of it.

Taehyung was the only one among them that had a job, and it was that way for a reason. He, Hyunah and Hoseok had been together for a lot of years now, Taehyung was a recent edition, and none of them wanted to get him in trouble.

It seemed Taehyung got the hint because he fell silent again after a moment, and they finished the walk without speaking.

Hoseok and Hyunah were exactly where they had left them, sitting on the floor staring at the TV.

“I’m not cooking for the two of you, so don’t ask,” he said as he walked in and they looked up expectantly.

“You said you were going to buy me steak!” Hoseok protested.

“We can go out to eat later, I’ll buy you steak then.”

He set himself up in the kitchen, first he dumped some rice in the cooker and turned it on, getting that out of the way.

He fried the eggs and ham, then the bread in the oil that was left over. He put them together to make little breakfast muffin’s with the hotteok, egg and ham between them.

The soup was easy enough to reconstitute, and the cold rice from the fridge came up okay once it was microwaved.

He looked at one of the packets he had bought for Taehyung, it was an interestingly flavoured milk tea and he decided to steal it, producing two candle smelling tea’s.

His bounty was loaded onto a small table and he waddled into the lounge carefully.

“Open the door for me, Taehyung-ah,” he said, his arms protesting, wrists throbbing painfully, but he ignored them, picking his way carefully across the lounge.

“Thanks,” Yoongi grunted as he passed Taehyung and hurried through the rain back up to his room.

He balanced the little table carefully on the ledge as he slid the door open, pushing it into the room before he climbed in.

“Jimin-ah,” he said softly, moving the table next to Jimin’s sleeping form, “It’s Yoongi, are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Jimin mumbled into Yoongi’s dirty pillow. “Did you bring delicious food Yoongi-ssi?”

“Open your eyes.”

Jimin blinked sleepily, squinting at Yoongi and then down at the table, “Oh, amazing! This looks incredible!”

He pulled himself into sitting position, Yoongi moving the table so that it was on the bed between them. “What have you brought me?” Jimin asked.

“I have hangover muffins, it’s honey bread with eggs and ham, and more honey. Also have hot and sour soup which came from a packet, but I heated it up, rice, and some kimchi and white radish, which came from my Eomma. And these are clean chopsticks, and a clean spoon,” Yoongi explained, pointing to each item in turn.

“Wahhh, it looks incredible,” Jimin smiled wide, his eyes once again disappearing and his dimples taking over. “I’ll eat well, thank you.”

“Buns first,” Yoongi instructed, “they aren’t as good when they’re cold.”

Jimin picked one up inspecting it closely, the beautiful golden bun, fried impeccably, glimmering with sticky honey. Yoongi watched closely as Jimin had a mouthful, taking note of his expression as he chewed, going from slight confusion at the different flavours, to joy as they blended perfectly just as Yoongi knew they would.

“Fuck,” Yoongi muttered to himself, picking up his own bun, eating half of it in one bite, turning the second half side ways to fit it in as well, groaning happily as his poor body was finally given some sustenance.

It was greasy and glorious, the perfect thing for a hangover, the perfect combination of sweet and salty.

He had finished eating a second one before Jimin had even done with his first.

He picked up his spoon and started shovelling soup into his mouth, making another very obnoxious sound of contentment. His next victim was his own bowl of rice, using his chopsticks with one hand and the spoon with the other to alternately fill his face with rice and kimchi, pausing to have more soup.

Jimin was almost too busy watching Yoongi to eat his own food.

“You’re not very good at relaxing are you?” Jimin asked.

“Hmm?” Yoongi managed, looking up from the rice which he was scooping directly from the bowl into his mouth. He swallowed quickly, wincing as the rice slid down his tender throat, bringing his hand up to rub it carefully, “I can relax,” he said finally.

Jimin shook his head, putting the last bite of his first roll in his mouth.

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing to the purple liquid in the mug on the tray.

“I dunno, taro or some shit like that, and this one is—” he lifted it to his nose, inhaling a wife of the pink fragrance, “—uh, maybe rose? You can pick either. I stole them from Taehyung,” he added after he saw the puzzled expression on Jimin’s face. He clearly hadn’t thought that Yoongi was the sort of guy who would buy rose flavoured tea for himself; and he was right.

“I’ll just have this one,” Jimin nodded, lifting the mug to his mouth with both hands, having a demure sip, “Mmm, it’s really good,” he urged.
Yoongi lifted his own cup, having a much larger mouthful.

“The rose isn’t bad either, I still think they smell like fucking candles, but I paid for them so…” he grunted, putting it back down carelessly, some of the pink liquid splashing over the side.

They sat in silence, focusing on eating until Yoongi had well and truly finished everything, and Jimin had mostly done.

“You said you work in IT?” Jimin said finally, leaning back on his hands, looking across the makeshift table at Yoongi.

“Yeah, just freelance stuff though, security and stuff like that, it doesn’t pay very well,” he shrugged.

“I can tell,” Jimin laughed.

“I’m sorry, but this is a two bedroom apartment five minutes from Hannam station, this place is hugely expensive,” Yoongi snapped.

It was true they were supposed to pay a lot to live there, but what was not true was that they actually paid it. The ahjumma who owned the laundry service really liked them, and never made them pay her just so long as they watched out for the shop and made sure that no one was mistreating the machines or sleeping on the floor.

They also did the cleaning for her every week, and all in all it was a very nice set up, so they lived in Bogwang-dong for free, and none of them were ever sure where their money went.

Mostly food and alcohol, Yoongi thought.

He and Hoseok were also habitual smokers, and spent a lot of money of cigarettes now that the prices just kept getting higher, so that probably ate a chunk as well.

“What do you do?” Yoongi asked.

“I told you already,” Jimin laughed.

“Did you?”

“Yeah, last night…”

“I was really out of it,” Yoongi shrugged.

“No, you were ignoring me,” Jimin said, stretching out a leg to prod Yoongi’s knee.

“You’re right,” Yoongi nodded, smiling slightly.

“Wahhh, Yoongi-ssi, was that a smile?” Jimin pushed himself forward, leaning across the table, “Have I seen you smile before? Is this the first time?”

“I’ve smiled since last night,” Yoongi frowned.

“Hey, it’s gone already, smile again,” Jimin urged, bringing up a hand to cup Yoongi’s jaw.

“I can’t, you’ve put me on the spot,” he grumbled.

Jimin laughed, shaking his head, taking the opportunity to press his lips gently against Yoongi’s while he was so close anyway.

“Why are you speaking formally today?” Yoongi asked quietly, against Jimin’s lips.

“I dunno…I was worried I might have sounded rude,” Jimin shrugged.

“You can call me hyung,” Yoongi allowed, his nose bumping against the other man’s, “if you want to, I’m fine with you speaking informally.”

Jimin pulled back, a little smile twisting his pouted lips.

“Anyway, hyung, I work for a publisher.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now, you’re gonna be a partner,” he recited.

“Maybe,” Jimin nodded, “I also thought, maybe I wanted to go to university.”

“You haven't been already?”

“No, why?”

“You just seem like the sort of guy who would have gone to university once he finished high school.”

“Nope, I went into the army, I served for four years, but I got a really good score on my CSAT,” Jimin explained.

“I did my service straight out of school as well,” Yoongi nodded, his respect for Jimin going up a little. “But I got a shit score for my CSAT, so university wasn’t really an option once I was discharged.”

They sat and spoke about the army for a while, comparing ranks and divisions, talking about what the training was like and how strange it was coming back out and trying to adjust afterwards.

“Isn’t this so like soldiers,” Jimin laughed, “As soon as we figure out we’ve both served already we just sit and talk about the army for half an hour!”

“I don’t think I’d re-enlist,” Yoongi said eventually, “You?”

“I might, one day, I liked the routine and the discipline, I didn’t like the hair, but that doesn’t seem like it would be a problem for you?”

“I haven’t changed it since I discharged,” Yoongi laughed, “I used to have really long hair. Down to here,” Yoongi said, putting a hand on his chest, “I listened to a lot of metal, but I honestly looked like Kim Taewon, I had glasses too.”

Jimin threw his head back, “I can’t imagine that,” he laughed.

“You don’t want to,” Yoongi said shaking his head, “Just remember, I was very young.”

“Are there any pictures?” Jimin asked with wide innocent eyes.

“Fuck no, not even one,” Yoongi lied coldly, no way was this guy getting his hands on photos of Yoongi with heavy metal shirt’s and baggy trousers throwing up devil horns, no way in hell.

“You can’t just tell me something like that and then not show me,” Jimin whined.

“Yes I can,” Yoongi shrugged, “Have you had surgery?” He asked out of the blue.

“Fuck that was sudden—no,” Jimin laughed, “all natural.” He ran a hand down his cheek, his eyes closed putting on a show of being sensual.

“Your face is really small,” Yoongi nodded, “and your lips are big, you haven’t had anything done?”

“No, always had lips like this. What about you, you have one double lid,” Jimin scowled at Yoongi’s face, his gaze flicking across his features.

“Yeah, just born that way, no money for surgery,” Yoongi chuckled.

“I like it, it’s interesting,” Jimin shrugged, “I like your cheek bones too, they’re very high.”

“What you’re trying to say is that I look unhealthy right?” Yoongi asked raising an eyebrow, yes he had high cheek bones, he also had sunken cheeks, made more noticeable by said cheek bones.

“No!” Jimin said quickly, shaking his head, “I’m saying I think you’re handsome. I also wanted to ask, just quickly, do you want to hang out again?”

“Oh,” Yoongi said, startled by the quick change in subject. “Yes, definitely.”

“Great,” Jimin grinned, letting himself fall back, “I feel good now, I was nervous.”

“You were nervous,” Yoongi laughed.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi moved the table to one side and lay down next to Jimin, “why nervous? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as confident as you.”

“Hmm,” Jimin hummed, rolling on his side so he could look at Yoongi, “I thought…last night I might have—might have, been a bit—a bit much…maybe,” Jimin said in an odd stilted way.

Yoongi closed his eyes, running through all of his favourite moments from the night before in his mind, “Not too much,” he assured Jimin, leaning their foreheads together.

“I was really drunk,” Jimin added.

“It’s fine, honestly,” Yoongi grunted, opening his eyes again, “Really, Jimin-ah, really.”

“Okay,” Jimin nodded.

“So when did you come up from Busan?” Yoongi asked, getting comfortable, pulling the pillow down a little more under his head, turning with Jimin in his arms so that Jimin was laying almost on top of him.

“I came up for this job in the publishing house, I’ve only been here for about a month and a half. My accent is good right, not even noticeable?”

“Well I didn’t notice it, but I don’t know if that is much of a compliment because Jongmin-hyung picked up on it immediately and he was drunk.”

“Whatever! I was drunk as well, I can’t do it as well when I’m drunk,” Jimin defended, sliding his hand up Yoongi’s shirt to rub slow circles across his chest, making Yoongi feel very content and sleepy.

“Can you say something in dialect, something funny?” He asked, peering down at Jimin.

Whatever Jimin said after that Yoongi had no idea.

“Was that even Korean?!” He demanded, “What was that.”

“It was just satoori! I basically just said that you were a bastard and that you didn’t know anything, but it was, I mean it’s more complex than that, it was sort of an idiom,” Jimin laughed.

They lay in Yoongi’s cold room for a few more hours, until the sun had started to go down again. Jimin then declaring that he had to go, because he needed to do work the next day.

Yoongi walked him out to the shop, which was thankfully empty so he didn’t feel worried about pulling Jimin in for a long kiss.

“I’ll text you, hyung,” Jimin assured him, “I had a great time, I’m glad I met you.”

“Make sure you eat well,” Yoongi nodded as he pulled away from Jimin.

“You too,” Jimin smiled, “Have a good night.”

 

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

 

He squeezed Yoongi’s hand once before they broke apart properly and Jimin stepped out of the brightly lit store into the freezing cold street.

He pulled his collar up against the chill, jogging across the road slipping through an alley and out onto a much busier street where he hailed down a taxi.

What a night, that was a perfect example of why he didn’t drink, and he certainly didn’t take drugs. God he’d thought he had ruined everything before he’d even started.

He pulled out his phone and sent a message, a moment later a call popped up.

“Hyungnim,” he said respectfully, his voice sounding slightly deeper than it had a moment ago. “Yes, it’s going well, I’ve got him, I just left his house, I think I can do this,” he nodded, his eyes flicking through the divider to the taxi driver, hoping he wasn’t listening.

“Yes, hyungnim…I know what I have to do. No, he doesn’t suspect anything, you don’t have to ask that…”

He paused, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone, a frown forming between his brows. “Yes, hyungnim—“

But the line went dead, and Jimin dropped the phone, rubbing his tired eyes, what had he gotten himself into.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

 

JIMIN

BUSAN/ONE DAY AGO

Jimin bent over the dirty wash sink in front of him, scrubbing his hands clean. He hated the sight of blood, and yet he seemed to come into contact with it a lot.

“Jimin-ah!” A loud voice boomed behind him, pushing through the thick plastic curtains that separated the washroom from the warehouse beyond. “Good work, gorgeous,” he laughed, leaning against the wall beside Jimin, pulling a smoke out of a packet with blood stained fingers, transferring the blood not only to the cigarette, but also to his lips.

“Thanks,” Jimin muttered, bowing, hating the pet name but keeping his mouth shut about it. Joonho always treated him like that, it was slimy, it made him feel disgusting, but there wasn’t much he could do.

“You’re far too good at shit like this, considering your such a pretty boy,” he grinned, exposing yellow tobacco stained teeth, pushing off the wall to thump Jimin on the back.

Jimin bowed again, wiping his now clean hands on his clothes before he started to quickly strip, shoving them in a bag and pulling on a clean pair.

“Make sure these get burnt?” He said shortly, turning to face the man who was still leaning against the wall staring at him.

“Yep,” he nodded, taking the bag from Jimin. “Wait, the boss wants you.”

Jimin cocked his head, what did the boss want with him, it had been a long time since he had laid his eyes on the man who was the head of their organisation, and also, coincidentally, his brother.

“Thank you,” he nodded, bowing again.

He ducked out of the room, glad to see that the clean up had already started in the warehouse, many people in white hazmat suits, fully masked, were scrubbing floors and machinery, getting rid of every trace of him, and the man he had very recently killed.

He dropped into the car that was waiting for him.

“I’m seeing the boss,” he said to the driver, crossing one leg comfortably over the other, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He scrolled through the news as the car rolled through Busan towards Haeundae, the ocean shimmering in the winter sun.

He looked up from his phone to watch the shoreline as they drove along the beach road, the tall buildings shining on one side of him, and the water on the other through the perfectly manicured trees.

They stopped at an intersection and turned down another busy road, the driver quickly swinging into the discrete entrance to the underground parking garage.

Jimin closed his eyes, deciding to relax for a few minutes more as they glided through the lots down to the bottom level, the driver pulling into the reserved space beside the elevator.

“We’re here, Jimin-ssi,” he said looking in the rear view mirror.

“Thank you,” Jimin nodded, not opening his eyes yet. After taking one more breath he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, climbing out of the spotless black Audi.

He wondered why he was being called for a face to face meeting, usually if there was something he needed to do he was sent a message, or met by someone much lower down than his older brother.

The only time he really saw Park Jiyong these days was at Chuseok, or at big meetings.

He rode the private elevator up to the penthouse apartment, and was met at the door by two guards who quickly scanned him for weapons before gesturing him forward.

“Jimin-ah, is that you?” Jiyong called from somewhere in the vast apartment, as Jimin turned the corner at the end of the hall, he found that he was calling to him from the hot tub on the balcony.

“Hyungnim,” Jimin said, bowing ninety degrees before stepping forward, walking out the expansive glass doors to the deck.

“Pass me that towel,” Jiyong instructed, wrapping it around his slightly flabby lower half as he climbed out of the tub. “Have a drink.”

Jimin followed him inside and poured drinks for them both, sitting down at the table opposite his brother.

“I hear you’ve been doing very well, Jimin-ah,” Jiyong smiled, his perfect teeth glinting.

“Thank you, hyungnim,” Jimin bowed.

“I have more work for you, if you would like it?”

“Of course,” Jimin nodded, always ready to jump at a chance to further himself. If this job was important enough that Jiyong was calling for him personally, it was not something he was going to turn down.

“As you know, I’m a genius,” Jiyong laughed, opening his mouth wide.

Jimin nodded, keeping silent for the time being, sitting with his back as straight as it would go. “I’ve worked out a way to kill two birds with one stone.” He swiped a ring clad finger through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. “No one is denying that you’re a good and efficient worker—“ he started, swirling the whiskey in his glass, “—but the rumours about you are getting out of control.”

Jimin visibly flinched, the rumours about him, he had hoped that his brother had not heard them, but it seemed it had been a fools hope.

“I don’t want that sort of thing associated with my business, but as you’re my brother, and one of my best assets I can’t just cut you out, can I?” Jiyong asked.

Jimin said nothing, keeping his face impassive, he wasn’t going to give Jiyong an indication either way incase it provoked him.

“Something has come up, a person we’ve been looking for for a very long time has come back on our radar. This person’s abeoji took a lot of money from us, a lot of years ago.”
Jimin nodded, letting Jiyong know that he understood.

“This is the full situation, please read it well, and let me know immediately if you will accept.”

Jimin was handed an envelope by one of Jiyong’s attendants.

“I’ve got a meeting; but please use this place until you decide,” Jiyong offered, gesturing around the apartment.

Jimin stood, “thank you, hyungnim,” he bowed again, as deeply as he could, keeping his head down as Jiyong left, disappearing into one of the anterior rooms.

He stayed where he was at the table until he heard the elevator ‘bing,’ and knew that Jiyong was gone. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, slicking it back into place.

Jiyong knew about the rumours, Jimin was surprised he wasn’t on a freighter for Hong Kong at that very moment. He thought he’d been so very discrete, but slowly, bit by bit it had started to get out.

He had no idea how, he’d never spoken openly about it to anyone, figuring that what he did in private was his business, and of course when you brother was Park Jiyong, you really didn’t want anyone to know about something like that.

Unbuttoning his jacket and crossing his leg Jimin opened the envelope, unfolding the brief.

He frowned as he read through it.

He was looking for an imposter it seemed.

Someone had managed to steal the identity of a man who had been missing for twenty-six years, and were going to use it to access the money that his brother wanted back.

His job, by the looks, was to befriend this person, get the information for himself, and get rid of them.

He quickly realised why Jiyong had decided he was a genius.

The job was in Seoul, and it required Jimin to go deep, which would get him out of Busan and away from any harmful rumours.

The brief noted that they had new accounts ready to go, and an apartment waiting, he had a cover job which he was not required to attend, but it was official and on paper.

Jiyong was not expecting him to decline this job, the note at the end said that he needed to be in Seoul later that night, giving him no space to reject the offer.

“You’re accepting?”

He turned to see his sister standing in the hall looking down at him.

“Yes.” He nodded, standing and buttoning his jacket again so he could bow.

“Come on,” she instructed, directing him to the door, “We’re going now, I’ll come up with you, I’ve got tickets to a show tonight anyway.”

“Noona, shouldn’t I pack?” He asked.

“No, you don’t need to, it’s organised already.”

He was hurried out of the apartment, and back into the car he had only left half an hour ago, this time with Sunhwa beside him.

As they parked at the terminal and Sunhwa pulled out their tickets for the KTX he knew without a doubt that this had been planned with no room for him to say no.

It was mid morning, and the first class carriage was largely empty.

“Noona,” Jimin said as he stowed his bag and sat down on the aisle side, letting her have the window.

She looked up from her phone, “Do we know anything about this guy?”

“I don’t know much about it; we only just got the information,” she shrugged. “I think the prevailing opinion is that he’s just a hacker, the question is how does he know about the money in the first place.”

For someone who always claimed to ‘not know much,’ about what was going on with business, Sunhwa was always very well informed.

They fell silent again, Jimin also pulling out his phone, both of them scrolling as the train began to move.

They didn’t speak again until they stopped in Dongdaegu when Sunhwa suddenly looked up from her phone, “The hacker set up bank accounts in the name of Park Jaekwang, and has deposited money, we can track him through the accounts.”

She passed the phone to him so that he could look at the message that had just come through.

The message ended with saying that there would be a new phone waiting for Jimin in Seoul with all this information on it already.

Jimin nodded and passed it back, that was ridiculous, if you knew that the person you were posing as was wanted by someone like his brother, wouldn’t you want to keep it as quiet as possible.

But then he figured, assuming that the money they were after was at some sort of high security lock up, if you were going to try and use someone else’s ID to get access, you’d need to make the ID seem believable.

If the brief was right, and Park Jaekwang had been a dead name for over twenty-five years, there wouldn’t be anything, no email’s, phone records, bank accounts, job history, all of that would have to be created in order to make it credible.

He went back to looking at his phone.

He ordered a salad for lunch, tucking his tie into his shirt and a napkin into his collar to make sure he stayed clean before he started eating.

Jimin hated disorder, he hated mess, he liked everything to be just as it should.

By the time they got to Seoul it was barely eleven.

Sunhwa said goodbye at the terminal and got into a different car, leaving Jimin to climb into the very ordinary looking sedan.

He greeted the driver but didn’t say anything else, assuming that he had been told what his job was.

He was taken to fairly nice building in Daechi-dong, and told to go up to apartment twenty-eight.

He found everything already prepared, set up like the apartment of a relatively well off young man in his twenties.

He wondered if they had used this apartment for other things; if it had been already been used for a cover, a safe house before, or even just for storage.

It was nice though, clean and organised, which was how he liked things to be.

On the kitchen counter he found keys, a wallet, a small silver case and a phone.

He opened the case and found a very efficient looking small knife and beretta M9, both very easy to conceal. He wouldn’t need them yet, so before he did anything else he worked out where the safe storage was in the apartment, looking in all the usual places, finally finding it behind the water boiler in the bathroom.

The weapons safely stowed away, he flicked through the wallet; they were using his name, that was fine, he could just use his real identity and leave out the parts about his family and his history.

He was Park Jimin, from Busan, which was true, he had served in the army, also true, and he had come to Seoul for a job— it was best to stick close to the truth.

Though he didn’t have a lot of experience with situations like this, he did have a lot of experience having to deal with irritable foreigners who thought they were VIP’s. Arrogant bastards who refused to give up their goods to just anyone.

And in those situations he was incredibly competent, he knew just how to flatter someone, the trick was; not to say cheesy things. You needed to keep the right balance between flattery and humiliation. They needed to know that you were still the one in charge of the situation, but they were also a high priority.

He hoped he could apply that to the job he had been assigned.

The fridge was stocked, though not with anything he wanted, it was a lot of beer and bread. Jimin had been staying away from most carbs recently, trying not to put anything in his body that would slow him down.

As he was opening and closing cupboards the phone rang.

“Hello?” He asked, leaning against the clean white counter.

“Jimin-ah.”

“Hyungnim.”

“You got to the apartment I see, I’m glad that you chose to take the job. The phone that we are speaking on will get updates on the movements of the target. Sunhwa said she mentioned we have people watching the accounts?”

“She did.”

“When they are used, you’ll get an alert, then you go and find him, understood?” Jiyong asked.

“Sounds easy enough. It won’t be a problem, hyungnim.”

“Good. Make him trust you Jimin-ah, become invaluable, just as you have become to me, my dongsaeng.”

Jimin could all but see Jiyong’s wide toothy smile as he spoke, his pock marked, pudgy, cheeks shaping around his gums.

“Of course.”

“We’ll speak again when you have begun.”

The line went dead before any more could be said and Jimin nodded to himself, he needed to shower after being on the train for so long, breathing the same air as so many other people.

He carried the phone around with him for the rest of the day, watching it nervously awaiting the update, but it stayed silent.

Jimin carefully organised the apartment into a style he liked a little better, and thought about his character, he decided he would just be himself, no one in Seoul knew who he was, or at least they shouldn’t. He’d always been discreet with his work, even within circles where he would be better known.

Surely he could only be recognised in relation to Jiyong, if someone for example was to introduce him as Jiyong’s younger brother, beyond that no-one would know his face.

And it wasn’t as though Park Jimin was an uncommon name.

As it started getting a bit later and the apartment was as organised as it could possibly be, Jimin very quickly ran out of things to do.

Feeling like he was going a little out of his mind he pulled a book off the shelf and sat in the lounge reading, working on calming his mind down, he had already thought about everything he could, now was the time for quiet restraint.

He was very glad he had taken that moment to focus himself, because less than ten minutes after he had begun to read the phone buzzed.

The account was being used at a Noraebang parlour in Itaewon, with a smile he stowed the phone and the wallet in his coat and got in a taxi.

He found the dingy parlour, picking his way down the filth covered steps, and past the tacky fish tank, and ducked into the bathrooms, finding himself a stall, wiping down the lid and sitting.

He sat staring at his phone, waiting for the alert to pop up, having a vague idea that he would come out of the toilet to see who was paying, just to get an idea of who he was looking for.

But when the app updated again, the account wasn’t even being used at the parlour any more.

A quick search showed that it was being used at a club a few blocks away.

Jimin’s lip twisted in displeasure and he climbed swiftly to his feet, sweeping out of the parlour without so much as a glance at the woman at the desk who frowned at his back as he went.

He kept up a hurried pace, peering at buildings as he neared the location, looking for the right sign.

He found it, and painted a slightly hazy smile on his face as he joined the line, slipping his phone into his pocket.

He was let in without issue, and felt the phone buzz almost the same second as he cocoon of hot air and techno engulfed him.

He hurried to the bar, peering around for someone paying, but he must have just missed them.

Deciding to try and blend in, he ordered himself a non-alcoholic cocktail; a mixture of grapefruit juice and soda.

As he blinked around the mass of bodies in front of him, he got another notification.

This time was different, the person hadn’t used the account to pay, he had logged into it presumably to check the balance, and Jimin now had his exact location, he looked down at the tiny screen grab of a map.

He was on the far side of the club, further back than the bar.

Jimin looked around the corner, and found a glass door, sporting a few posters, and a smoking sign.

He must be smoking, checking the balance while he had a break.

Jimin stowed his phone in his pocket and cautiously made his way to the exit peering through. There was only one person on their phone, a guy in a dark beanie and glasses, short and unimposing.

Was this the guy who had managed to hack records that their best hackers couldn’t access?

He watched the guy flick his cigarette over the balcony and turn to come inside, still looking down at his phone.

Taking his opportunities as they came Jimin stepped forward just as the door open and slammed himself into the guy, hitting him in the head with his glass.

Jimin almost laughed as the man spluttered at him, cursing loudly; he apologised very insincerely as the guy shoved past him, spitting expletives at Jimin as he went.

He kept an eye on his back, noting the man push his way into the bathroom, a very many people streaming out after him.

With a chuckle Jimin followed.

He found the man shirtless, swearing at the mirror.

Jimin took better stock of him, he wasn’t going to be difficult, tiny, wiry, no muscle, a slight paunch—lots of tattoo’s but he was sure that was just for show.

He definitely looked threatening enough, but Jimin knew a lot of truly threatening people, and he didn’t think that this guy was one of them.

Fairly quickly things started to go his way, he convinced the guy, who he learned was called Min Yoongi, to buy him a drink.

Unfortunately he wasn’t able to avoid this one being alcoholic, but for the sake of ingratiating himself, he took it and drank it.

Jimin never drank, he didn’t like it, he didn’t see the point of it; but for this situation he thought it was probably unavoidable.

Initially his plan had been to try and get this guys number so he could set up a meeting another time. But then things started to get a little out of hand.

To try and get the guy to be interested in him, since talking wasn’t working, Jimin had decided dancing was the thing.

He had worked out pretty quickly, that he wasn’t in an ordinary bar.

It was ironic, and a little hilarious, that in order to get Jimin and his ‘distasteful activities,’ out of Busan, Jiyong had dropped him in a gay bar.

He figured very quickly that Min Yoongi was also gay, and Jimin’s plan turned from ingratiation, to seduction.

It was easy enough to ignore how repulsive he found the man, and kept finding himself tipping liquor into his mouth, making his limbs feel loose, his mind fuzzy.

He decided to take himself away from the situation for a minute, leaving Yoongi on the dance floor while he ducked out onto the balcony, taking a few very deep breaths.

He really had to keep his head in this, there was absolutely nothing appealing about the guy he was now trying to seduce, however, being drunk and trying to seduce someone was making things a little more difficult to sift through.

Once he thought he had himself back under control, he headed back in, however, with a twist of sickening panic, he realised he couldn’t find him.

Jimin glared into the crowd, trying to pick out the man’s slight form, and drawing up blank.

He tried to shake some of the fuzziness out of his mind as he swept the club for Yoongi, finally he spotting him coming out of the toilets.

Jimin cornered him again, gripping his arms before he had even really thought about it.

“I told you to stay put,” he hissed, pressing the man against the black wall.

In that moment he worried that he had blown it, there was no way anyone in their right mind was going to want to keep in touch with some random violent possessive guy they’d met in a club.

It was that fear had led to another very rash action, he had taken the drugs that Yoongi had offered him.

 

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

 

He was laying on the floor of a disgusting old apartment, it stunk of piss and cigarettes, the only light in the murky depths he had succumbed to, was the exquisite memory of that he had just done to the man now snoring beside him. 

He had undoubtedly ruined everything, and he hadn’t even started yet; but god had it felt good.

With one light finger, he traced the deep scratch he'd left on Yoongi’s cheek; he had never been so out of control, yet so in control before in his life.

He hated that he had lost himself in the moment, that he had let his desires slip into his work.

He lay awake, watching Yoongi sleep, wishing he was anywhere but the foul room that he had found himself in.

He couldn’t bare to think about the shit he was laying in, the room didn’t look like it had ever been vacuumed and he was sleeping on a bed roll, with only one disgusting stained pillow between them.

By some sort of super human skill, he made himself fall asleep, it was not a good sleep, broken and fitful, and he woke easily when he realised that the other man was rising.

Quickly he tried to fix the damage he had done, deciding to try a different tactic, he was going to be as sweet as he possibly could.

For the rest of the day he lay in the putrid bed, asking the guy questions about his life, swapping stories, most of them real with a few details excluded here or there.

They kissed, and Yoongi didn’t seem afraid or put off, if anything he seemed very happy, happier than he had been the night before at the club that was for sure.

Jimin decided to just ask the question, just to see how he was doing, and it turned out that his hard work that morning had paid off and the guy agreed to see him again.

Jimin managed his face, but he wanted to sigh with relief, he hadn’t completely fucked it.

Eventually he decided it had been long enough, and he could leave without being rude.

Being in bed with the guy might have been nice if they were anywhere else, a proper bed, with clean sheets, in a nice building, then yeah, it would have been great.

But under those circumstances? There was only so much he could reasonably be expected to endure.

He sent Jiyong a message as he stepped onto Bogwang-ro, hailing down a taxi.

As he slid inside and giving his address to the driver, his phone rang.

“Jimin-ah,” Jiyong said curtly,

“Hyungnim,” Jimin nodded, all but bowing to an imaginary brother in front of him.

“How is it going, making progress?”

“It’s going well, I’ve got him, I just left his house. I think I can do this.”

“I don’t want to hear ‘I think,’ Jimin, that’s not like you,” Jiyong muttered. The sound of a lighter clicking was audible over the line, along with the small puffing noises of Jiyong lighting a cigar.

“Of course, hyungnim,”

“I don’t need to tell you how important this is right?”

“I know what I have to do.”

“Good, and he has no idea who you are?”

“No, he doesn’t suspect anything.”

“Good, we’ll speak again when you’ve made more progress.”

The line went dead again and Jimin leant his head back against the cushioned head rest.

This job was humiliating, if anyone else in the organisation found out he would be done, this could get in the way of all his very carefully laid plans.

He supposed he could just start working out of Seoul, but he would much rather be in Busan. He wanted to be more involved, he was the youngest brother but he wasn’t the stupidest, not by a long shot.

If he could pull this off with minimal damage, there was a chance he would be brought in closer. It didn’t matter if Jiyong and his other brothers knew the lengths he was going to, that would probably be fine. It wasn’t as though they didn’t already believe the rumours.

He just needed to make sure he was careful around everyone else in their organisation, he didn't want word to get out, respect would be hard to come by after that.

He ran through the previous night in his mind, god what had he been thinking, allowing himself to lose control like that. He had let go too much, possibly more than he ever had before; so careless, so stupid.

As soon as he got home he went straight to the bathroom, running the shower. While he waited for it to heat up and knelt in front of the toilet and made himself vomit, getting rid of the food he had forced himself to put in his body that morning.

His throat hurting from retching he climbed into the shower, leaning against the wall, letting the hot water cleanse him, making the scratches on his back sting painfully.

He brushed his teeth thoroughly and made himself some medicinal tea, picked up the book he had put down the previous evening and climbed into his new bed. It felt like heaven compared to what he had endured the previous night.

Before he could relax, he needed to do one last thing.

He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, pulling up his contacts.

There were a lot of fake ones, but among them was ‘Min Yoongi,’ he opened up the messages and typed, sending it off, turning his attention back to his book and tea.

 

 

He didn’t completely expect a response, but it had only been a minute or so when the phone buzzed.

 

    

 

Jimin put down his phone, he wasn’t being ignored, it was fine, he would plan something, something less disgusting with much less alcohol, and it would be fine. He would show Yoongi has charming side, somewhere pleasant, and try to set a precedent for the type of person the new Jimin was. He was not violent, he was soft, he wasn’t threatening, he was just pretty and naive.

This was going to work out fine, he decided, shuffling a little further down in the soft sheets, sipping his medicinal tea, opening the book contentedly, feeling quite good about himself. It looked like he was going to be able to have his cake and eat it too.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

YOONGI

 

“So, we’ve got it, what are we doing with it now?” Hoseok asked, leaning back against the wall, looking up at Yoongi and Hyunah, both sitting at their monitors.

“Hoseok-ah,” Jiwoo smiled from the kitchenette where she was happily chopping potatoes for them. “It’s all prepared. Last night I spoke to Park Jaekwang-ssi.”

“That’s the dead guy right?” Hoseok asked.

“My dear departed friend, yes. And he said that all we need is the name, that the name will be enough to get us access. He also said he wants my precious son to have the money,” she smiled lovingly at Yoongi, the look syrupy, overly sticky and cheesy; Yoongi knew it was a bit of a scam.

“And the two of us as well,” Hyunah put in quickly with a sharp eyebrow.

“Of course Hyunah, my beautiful daughter,” Jiwoo grinned, throwing potatoes in a pan, the apartment suddenly filled with the happy sound of frying starch.

“Okay, that’s great, we have the name, but we need to be able to use it,” Hyunah pointed out. “There’s no way any bank in their right mind is going to believe that Yoongi is not a criminal, especially not the most secure bank in all of Japan…all of Asia.”

“I’m working on finding a decoy,” Yoongi groaned, “You know I am, so why are you bringing it up?”

“Because you’re not working fast enough!” Hyunah snapped.

“I don’t need to work fast! We have the name and all the identification, it’s not like it’s going anywhere noona, we have other jobs on the go. Isn’t it better to take our time finding the perfect person to be Park Jiseok, to make sure that this works out?” He asked, his brows pulling together in a frown. He didn’t like to be contradicted, of all of them, Hyunah was the only one who could possibly call him out, but even then he resented it.

“Yoongi-yah,” Jiwoo snapped from the kitchen, “she is allowed to want you to work faster,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, Eomma, I know,” Yoongi grumbled.

“I’m glad you said it, Jiwoo-ahjumeoni,” Hoseok laughed, looking at the sulky expression on Yoongi’s face.

“We don’t need to discuss logistics yet because we don’t have a decoy,” Yoongi pointed out, “But so far the plan is; find a decoy, get him on board, and then adjust accordingly. It should be simple, get the decoy to go into the bank, present himself as Park Jiseok, the ID should do the rest, then the bank will transfer the funds to the account that we’ve set up.”

“I don’t like not being able to do things digitally,” Hyunah complained.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi snapped, “But this is a lot of money, we would be set up for years, we could expand, we could even go legit, or more illegal, run in bigger circles, whatever we wanted.

It’s worth putting in the time, noona.”

“I get it,” she huffed, “let me work,” she said shaking her head, looking back at the computer, in the middle of writing some code for phishing scams.

“Eomma, what are you cooking?” Yoongi asked, pushing himself up from his chair, still feeling a little sore.

“Glazed sweet potatoes, kimchi jigae, and then I bought specially…Korean beef,” She smiled, pulling the cling wrapped tray of hanwoo out of the bag.

“Jiwoo-ahjumeoni!” Hoseok exclaimed, suddenly leaping up from his spot on the floor, clearing the lounge room in an instant on his long legs, taking the precious beef in his hands. “Why are you so good to us?”

“Don’t joke Hoseok-ah, you kids keep me fed and clothed, if buying you beef is all I can do to show my love, then I will buy you all the beef in the country,” she said brusquely, patting his hand as he looked in wonder at the beef.

“Wow,” Hoseok exclaimed, putting it carefully back down on the counter.

Yoongi leant against the fridge, watching his mother bustle around the kitchen. It really was no wonder no one had ever asked about his father, he was the very image of his mum.

She was small and slight with a sharp severe face and dark heavily lidded eyes.

She was possibly a little paler than he was but the fact that she didn’t hate the sunlight as much as he did meant that she had a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and forehead.

Even the way he spoke was similar to her, though she had grown up in Gyeongsang province and spoke with more dialect.

She was very matter of fact about things and didn’t like to mince words, if she said that something was true she expected people to believe her. And if they did not, well, they were disregarded and she moved onto to someone who would listen, she didn’t have any time for people she thought were stupid.

“Have you been eating well, Yoongi-yah?” She asked as she dumped brown sugar on the potatoes.

“Yes, eomma,” he nodded.

“You know I can sense when you’re lying right?” She asked looking at him sharply.

That was one way that he and his mother were different, she was a talented medium and worked as a well respected mudang.

Yoongi very occasionally would have an experience, a sense that he couldn’t explain. He had seen very many ghosts in his life, but he could never speak to them, they were just there and he ignored them until they went away again.

“I’ve been busy,” he defended, rubbing his eyes awkwardly.

“Yoongi-yah, it hurts my soul that you don’t eat well, I want you to be healthy,” she sighed, “I make all this food for you, and you don’t make time to eat it?”

“I’ll try to do better,” he allowed, patting her shoulder lamely.

“Aigoo,” she hissed, batting him away, “More lies!”

“Eomma!” He whined, pushing off the fridge, “I eat well!”

“Don’t lie!” She snapped, stirring the jjigae fiercely.

Yoongi groaned and plonked down on the floor by the table, pulling his phone towards him.

He had a message from Jimin.

Every time he checked his phone and saw Jimin’s name he felt something skip in his stomach, something he didn’t want to pay attention to.

He opened it, trying to seem nonchalant and read the contents.

 

 

He ran through the work he had to do in his mind, it wasn’t that much, he needed to go and deliver some money in person which was going to be annoying but not overly time consuming.

Then he had to make a few phone calls and check some servers, but barring any major complications he would be free by the evening.

He sent his response back, putting his phone down again.

He assumed that Jimin was probably finishing up at work and wouldn’t answer right away, but a moment later his phone buzzed.

 A vinyl pub, what sort of trendy hipster bullshit was that?

“Hoseok-ah,” he said quickly, looking up at his friend who was still in the kitchen drooling over the food that was being prepared.

“Yeah?” He asked, not looking away.

“Have you ever been to a vinyl pub?”

Hoseok was his contact for anything that was pretentious and bullshit.

“Yeah?”

“What is it?” Yoongi asked with a grimace, preparing himself for the worst.

“Why? Are you going to one?” Hoseok asked.

“I think so, what is it?” Yoongi pressed.

“It’s just a bar, but they sell records. Depending on where you go, sometimes they have guest DJ’s who come and play their favourite albums. It’s very retro,” Hoseok grinned, “Not really the sort of place you’d be interested in.”

“Fuck—this guy,” Yoongi groaned, leaning his head back against the wall, bringing his hand up to his still bruised throat, hidden carefully beneath a black turtle neck.

“Is it Park Jimin?” Hyunah asked, spinning around in her office chair.

“Yep.”

“Who is Park Jimin?” His mother asked curiously, peering over from the kitchen, narrowing her eyes at her son.

“A guy who’s trying to get me to go to a vinyl pub,” Yoongi replied shortly.

“On a date.” Hyunah supplied helpfully.

“My son is going on a date?!” Jiwoo asked quickly, putting down the chopsticks she was using to move the potatoes around.

“Yes eomma, but it’s nothing to get excited about, he’s just some random guy who’s just come up from Busan, I doubt that it’s going anywhere,” Yoongi assured her.

“He’s from Busan?” Jiwoo asked with wide eyes, she had a very large soft spot in her heart for anyone from Gyeongsang-do who was forced to live in Seoul.

“Yep.”

“Wahh, I’ll put aside jjigae for him, he mustn't be eating well if he only just moved,” she decided.

“Eomma! I’m not taking him a container of jigae!” Yoongi exclaimed.

“You are,” Jiwoo said finally. “Don’t be rude, it’s polite to take a gift, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it!”

“You can’t make sure all the young men in Seoul are eating properly, eomma!”

“I will do what I can do, so we’ll say no more about it,” Jiwoo snapped.

Yoongi sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall.

Eventually he sent back—

Jimin sent through the address and Yoongi peered down at it on his maps, it shouldn’t take him to long to get there, and the drop he had to make was on that side of the river anyway, it might work out nicely. Quickly they hammered out a time to meet, Jimin sounding somewhat nervous, even through text, which made Yoongi raise one eyebrow, remembering how shameless he had been the last time they had met.

He put his phone down not expecting any further communication now that they had worked out their next meeting, but to his surprise he got another message a moment later.

      

Yoongi looked down at the question, what a strange way to phrase that, why did Jimin want to know if it was going to be fun, and how could Yoongi possibly predict that. Maybe he should ask his mother if she could see tomorrow night being fun.

   

He shook his head, looking down at the messages, and the row of laughter; this guy really was too much.

Yoongi closed his phone putting it back on the table, smiling to himself.

“Organised?” Hoseok called from the kitchen.

“Organised. Tomorrow night in Gangnam,” Yoongi nodded.

“You’re gonna hate it Yoongi-yah,” Hoseok laughed, “A vinyl pub in Gangnam, that’s hell for you isn’t it?”

Yoongi nodded slowly, he didn’t imagine it would be fun.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked.

“I was thinking about having some people over, playing some games, maybe seeing if someone can beat the high score on the machine,” Hoseok grinned, “Did I tell you noona has bet me a full steak dinner and as many drinks as I want that no one can beat it?”

So the bets had begun, Yoongi had to laugh, he could see exactly how this was going to go, just like it always did. Someone was going to get hit in the face, or jump off something high.

“Well at least I’ll have something fun to come to home to,” he pointed out.

“Just try and drink as much as you can in Gangnam,” Hoseok grinned, stealing a sticky potato from the plate, groaning happily, pausing his conversation with Yoongi to compliment Jiwoo.

Everyone’s heads turned as the beaded curtain was swept aside and Taehyung wandered into the lounge, pulling his headphones out of his ear.

“Oh! Eomma!” He grinned, hurrying across the lounge to give Jiwoo a kiss and let her fuss over him for a minute.

Since Taehyung had come into their lives, Jiwoo had all but adopted the young man, treating him perhaps better than she did her own son.

Yoongi felt better listening to Taehyung also be scolded for not eating properly.

“You look so skinny, Taehyung-ie,” Jiwoo scowled, tugging on the loose shirt he was wearing, his slender legs accentuated by the skin tight jeans he wore for work, “you’re almost worst than Yoongi!”

“I’m not!” Taehyung protested, looking down at his legs.

“You are, go and wash, food will be ready soon,” she urged.

“Okay!” Taehyung said happily, dumping his bag by the counter and retreating into the bathroom.

They could hear his husky singing over their talking for the next ten minutes before he emerged again, his face glowing from the hot water, his long hair hanging in tendrils around his face.

He seemed much more comfortable now in an oversized hoodie, one that Yoongi had a feeling actually belonged to Hoseok.

Taehyung came and sat down between Hoseok and Yoongi, pulling his hands into the long sleeves.

“How was work?” Yoongi asked.

“Super quiet, I barely made anything,” Taehyung sighed, leaning his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “What did you all do today?”

“Nothing really,” Hoseok shrugged, “Yoongi and I went and sourced some new parts for noona, and then Jiwoo-ahjumeoni came over and we’ve been watching her cook for the last hour,” Hoseok reeled off. “ Oh also, Yoongi’s going to a vinyl pub tomorrow.”

“Hyung, really, why?” Taehyung asked confusedly, lifting his head to look at Yoongi.

“Your best friend Jimin invited me,” he grunted.
“A date?” Taehyung pressed, sitting a little straighter.

“By the sounds of…”

“Hyung! What are you going to wear?” Taehyung asked, now fully engaged in the conversation.

“I don’t know, why would I know that already, it’s not until tomorrow night?”

“Well if you’re going to a vinyl pub you probably want to look nice,” Taehyung pointed out.

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi snapped, “It doesn’t matter how I dress, I’m still going to look the same, so I’d rather wear shit I’m comfortable in.”

“Yoongi!” Jiwoo shouted from the kitchen.

Yoongi ground his teeth together, looking straight at Taehyung, trying to get his eyes to say what couldn’t say with his mouth.

“Hyung…you should borrow my jacket, it’s nice, but it’s something you would wear,” Taehyung said cautiously.

“Fine,” Yoongi muttered, appeasing Taehyung.

It might not be an awful thing to dress up a little, he just had to keep in mind that before meeting clean cut Jimin at a nice bar in Gangnam, he first had to meet a guy at a parking garage in Nonhyeon.

They sat around the table in the lounge, Jiwoo trying to quickly to tidy some things out of the way and make the space look a little more orderly; before she brought over the vast pot of jjigae and set it down in the centre. The heaped bowl of rice was set down one side of it, and the glazed potatoes on the other, the combined steam rising to perfume the cloying air of the apartment.

There was very little speaking for a while as they all spooned large helpings of jjigae into their mouths.

“Eomma,” Taehyung eventually groaned, having a refreshing mouthful of his beer, “Eommoeni, that was delicious, thank you.”

She reached over to take his hand, squeezing it gently.

Taehyung looked very content, his legs pulled up into the hoodie, his face glowing red from the alcohol and good food.

“Are you satisfied that I have eaten well enough?” Yoongi asked, holding his bloated stomach.

“I am, my son,” she nodded.

“I’m going to call you a taxi,” he decided after they had sat around talking for a while.

“I can walk Yoongi,” she objected.

“No fucking way, I’m booking it now, it’s too late,” he said, clicking hurriedly on his phone before she could get away without accepting it.

“It’s too expensive, you already do too much for me!” She exclaimed.

“Eomma, it’s nothing…there you go, it’s booked, he’s four minutes away.”

“But I still have to clean the kitchen,” she said looking back at the mess she’d made.

“Don’t worry about it ahjumeoni,” Hyunah said quickly, “I’ll make sure everything’s put away.”

That was a bare faced lie, Hyunah had never cleaned a single thing in their apartment. It wasn’t that she contributed to the mess, she just never helped to reduce it and would just look on as the chaos prevailed around her.

They all walked her outside, hugging her in turn on the freezing street as she ducked down into the taxi.

“God it’s cold tonight,” Hoseok muttered as his teeth chattered.

As soon as the taxi pulled away they hurried back in, closing the door between their apartment and the laundrette, sitting down again in front of the space heater.

“Should we watch something?” Taehyung asked, picking his beer up again.

Yoongi groaned as the inevitable fifteen minute argument about what they were going to watch began. Taehyung always wanted to watch romantic dramas that usually seemed to involve a body swap. Hyunah liked crime documentaries, and Hoseok liked gangster movies.

Yoongi’s taste definitely ran more towards Hoseok’s but he always put in quietly that maybe they should watch an old hong kong noir. No one ever paid attention, however, because he was no where near as passionate about it as the others.

As usually happened they decided to watch the drama that Taehyung had suggested, none of them wanted to admit it, but as he had been forcing them to watch it episode by episode for the past week, they were now semi invested.

Yoongi steadily drank his way through three bottles of soju, and was also glowing red by the time they decided it was too late to stay awake anymore and all stumbled off to bed.

“Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi grumbled, “It’s too cold tonight, we’re sleeping together.”

“No fucking joke,” Hoseok agreed, swiping the shit on the floor next to Yoongi’s bed roll out of the way so he could pull his over.

“I can see my fucking breath,” Yoongi grunted, still fully dressed under his thin blanket, “When is this winter going to end?”

“God, I don’t fucking know.” Hoseok muttered, curling up next to his best friend. “So, hyung,” he grunted after a moment, “I don’t mean to be awkward as fuck, but this guy, Park Jimin…”

“What about him?” Yoongi frowned.

“I know this is awkward,” Hoseok sighed, “But I’m not blind, do we have to talk about the marks on your neck…wow, this is really awkward,” he whined.

“It is awkward Hoseok-ah, we really don’t have to talk about it,” Yoongi urged.

“We don’t?”

“No.”

“I guess…fuck, how do I say this,” Hoseok groaned.

“Just don’t.”

“I didn’t know that was something you were into, but it seems sort of extreme, be careful,” he said all in one go.

Yoongi covered his face, groaning in agony, unprepared for the sudden earnestness of their conversation, especially given it’s uncomfortable nature.

“I’m fine,” he managed, wishing he could retreat into his body and away from this situation.

“I know we’re men, and it’s hard to talk about this shit, but we’ve been friends since before we can remember. So I just wanted to check that you weren’t…in over your head,” Hoseok finished.

“I’m not, I can look after myself,” Yoongi assured him, “Let’s talk about something else. Who’s coming tomorrow night.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok nodded gratefully, “Probably Kiyoung-ah, Choonhoon-hyung and Sukchin-ie. Hyunah said she was going to see if Minseo-ssi was free as well.”

Yoongi nodded, “Sounds like more fun than my plans.”

It did sound like more fun, objectively. However, when he thought about staying home and doing the same shit he usually did, with the same people, compared to the prospect of seeing Jimin again. Well, it wasn’t much of a competition, he couldn’t stop thinking about the other night, and the idea that there might be repeat, it was too good to turn down.

“Just come back after, you know we’ll probably be drinking until sunrise,” Hoseok pointed out.

“Very true, I probably will.”

 

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

 

The next day he spent an inordinate amount of time washing himself, scrubbing every inch of his body that he could reach, even making an attempt to exfoliate his back, sick of the sporadic acne that kept appearing across his shoulders.

He got out of the shower, glowing pink across his tattooed skin. He stood in front of the discoloured mirror, and waited for the steam to dissipate so he could see himself.

It wasn’t a pretty sight.

He leant closer to it’s surface, tugging angrily at his face, he squinted his eyes a little, trying to focus on himself properly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking at the dry skin on the sides of his mouth and across his forehead. “Taehyung-ah!” He yelled, sliding the door open a little bit, pulling on his track pants.

“He’s in his room,” Hyunah called back.

“Someone call him in here!” Yoongi barked back, muttering curses to himself.

Yoongi was told several times to get him himself, but in the end Hoseok was convinced to open the door and shout for Taehyung, who appeared looking sleepy a few minutes later.

“Hyung,” he mumbled, sliding into the tiny bathroom next to Yoongi.

“Help me with my face,” Yoongi grunted.

“Pardon?” Taehyung frowned, rubbing his eyes.

“Don’t say anything about it, just use some of your skin things on my face,” Yoongi scowled.

Taehyung looked down at him, still seeming confused for a few minutes, until Yoongi threatened to hit him, and then he very quickly decided to help him out.

Yoongi yanked on his hoodie and trailed after Taehyung, back to the room that he shared with Hyunah.

It was much cleaner and more pleasant smelling than his and Hoseok’s, that was for sure.

They even had a few scented candles strewn about the place.

“Sit, sit,” Taehyung said, pointed to his unmade bed roll, the sheets were still warm and Yoongi had a feeling that Taehyung’s sleep had been disturbed by Yoongi’s need to look nice.

He dragged his cosmetic’s case over to the bed and plonked himself down in front of Yoongi.

“You said I can’t talk about it…” Taehyung said cautiously, pulling out the same little spray bottle of toner.

“Don’t talk about it,” Yoongi warned.

“I want to though, this is for Park Jimin, right?” Taehyung asked.

“I said don’t, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi snapped.

Taehyung sighed, and made Yoongi close his eyes so he could spray the toner on for him.

“Do you want to do a mask?” He asked, looking very closely at Yoongi’s face, “I have a brightening one that should get rid of the redness and the dry skin.

“A face mask?” Yoongi asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

A face mask was quickly produced, and Taehyung removed it from its package, unfolding it trying not to let it drip on his sheets. “Here, quickly,” he urged, moving Yoongi forward a little so he could lay it delicately on his face.

It was incredibly cold on his freshly washed skin and Yoongi hissed between his teeth.

“Here,” Taehyung said, gathering the excess and rubbing it into Yoongi’s neck and onto his hands. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Taehyung said cautiously, fixing the collar of Yoongi’s hoodie, very clearly looking at the marks on his throat.

“Not you too,” Yoongi grumbled, trying to keep his face still so that mask didn’t shift.

“Me too?”

“Don’t worry,” he sighed.

“What’s it like?” Taehyung asked, and that wasn’t the question that Yoongi had been expecting.

“Taehyung-ie,” Yoongi sighed, “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright, I get it,” Taehyung sighed, “Just…another thing I didn't know about you.” Taehyung pointed out.

“What is there to fucking know?” Yoongi demanded, “This isn’t a big deal, it was just fun.”

Taehyung nodded but didn’t seem entirely convinced, Yoongi could understand why, even he had been a little frightened by the extent of the damage that he and Jimin had done, but it was no where near enough to stop him from going back again.

And to that end he was going to try and improve his face, even if just a little.

“Are you going to let me dress you?” Taehyung asked once he had taken off the mask and rubbed the excess into Yoongi’s skin, blowing on his face to make it soak in.

“Not a chance,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Wait, I’ll show you some things, and you can say if you don’t like them,” Taehyung said definitely, not leaving Yoongi any room to grumble that he wasn’t interested.

He got up and started rifling through his clothes rack which wobbled precariously under the weight of all the clothes he had piled on it.

He threw things down on the bed beside Yoongi, the pile beginning to get higher as he continued.

“You have to wear this jacket,” Taehyung said, lifting up the khaki bomber.

It was actually a jacket that Yoongi had admired many times before and he was able to grudgingly say that, yes he would wear it.

Taehyung managed to talk him into a long sleeved black shirt that nearly hung down to his knees, Yoongi insisted that he wear another turtle neck underneath to keep the marks on his neck obscured since before meeting Jimin he needed to go and work.

He sat patiently while Taehyung buffed and moisturised his face, slathering it in products, but by the time he was done Yoongi thought his skin really did look a lot better.

 

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

 

 

“Where’s the money for Yang?” Yoongi asked as he walked into the apartment, his combat boots strapped into place, a black cap on his head covering his short and un-styled hair.

“Here,” Hyunah said, leaning down to pull out a zipped plastic case full of cash.

“Thanks,” Yoongi nodded.

“Are you leaving now?” She asked, turning to face him.

“Yeah.”

“You look good Yoongi-yah,” she smiled looking him up and down.

He didn’t say anything, not wanting to admit that the compliment had made him a little more confident about himself.

“I’ll see you later,” he huffed, shoving the money into a laptop bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Mmm,” she hummed, turning back to computer, “Call me if there’s any problems.”

Yoongi didn’t expect that there would be, but just incase, he had a small knife in the pocket of the jacket, waiting to be grabbed should he need it.

He shoved his hands deep into said pockets as the cold wind on the street hit him.

Ducking his head he hurried through the mess of alleys and shortcuts he took to get to the station. Quickly he pulled out his phone, pressing it against the reader to get him through the barrier, letting him set along with the crowd of commuters who were heading home.

He stayed on the train to Yaksu when he got off and transferred to line three, standing pressed between a young mother, her screaming child, and four tired business men, all the way to Nonhyeon. He ducked quickly out of the train and past the glass barriers on the platform.

The building he had organised to meet Yang in wasn’t too far from the station. He slipped out onto the busy street, keeping his head down, always a little cautious about CCTV when he was out on a physical job.

He deviated off the very public street using the smaller side streets until he found the massive parking structure. He pushed into the emergency stairwell, climbing it up to the 7th level. He paused leaning against the wall for a moment, getting his breath back, pulling a cigarette out of his packet sticking it between his teeth, lighting it with one hand.

He pushed the door open, keeping the brim of his cap low over his face, weaving his way through the cars to the back left corner where he was supposed to wait.

One of their many enterprises was a money laundering scheme, ironic considering they lived in a laundry. Through many of their dummy companies online he was able to take dirty money and run it through legitimate channels to provide very official cash.

This months drop was only a very small amount which was why he was able to bring it by hand, and not have to get Hoseok to get the car out of storage.

He spotted the electric blue Subaru, still rumbling though it was parked, and jogged over to the drivers side.

“Hyungnim,” he bowed, looking down at the middle aged man who was dressed in the same fashions that Yoongi assumed he had worn as a twenty year old in 2002.

“Yoongi-ssi,” he nodded.

They dispensed with the talking and Yoongi pulled out the carrier and passed it to Yang, who put it down beside him.

“You took your cut?” Yang asked.

“I did, you’ll find the exact amount and all the modifications listed in the brief thats in the envelope,” Yoongi nodded, “I can wait while you check,” he offered.

“I believe you Yoongi-ssi, you haven’t done me wrong yet,” Yang smiled, exposing his yellowed teeth.

“I’m glad,” Yoongi bowed, stepping back from the car so that Yang could pull away.

He listened to the Subaru screech through the garage, down seven floors, squealing around every corner, until he must have pulled out onto the street.

Yoongi had another drag of his cigarette, thinking about Yang’s yellow teeth.

He’d noticed tobacco stains on his teeth a few weeks ago, and at the time he really hadn’t cared about it, but now he was thinking; Jimin probably wouldn’t like them, they didn’t look all that appealing.

He pulled out his phone as he finished his cigarette, flicking it away.

It was only just gone six, so he had an hour to find the bar.

He pulled up the address again in the green site, peering down at the map; it was a little difficult to see without his glasses.

After a minute of trying to work it out he gave up and reached into his bag, yanking the offensive contraptions out of the depths and slamming them on his face, a little angry at how much clearer things instantly became.

It wasn’t that far away, he could probably walk it in under an hour. What followed was an internal battle as he found his way back out of the parking structure; should he walk there, or should he be lazy and find a bus.

In the end he was walking for so long trying to decide if he should get a bus, that he decided it was close enough.

He loved the way the city looked once it got dark, all of the bright lights which looked washed out and a little dirty during the day, burst into life on night fall.

It was like everything came alive, became more vibrant and exciting, flashing down at him from all angles, advertising everything he could possibly want.

He was almost tempted by a particularly good deal on a buffet but decided that he didn’t have time, and lit another cigarette to keep himself from giving in and going back.

Gangnam was always a little daunting, it was a lot nicer than the majority of Itaewon, and the people were far less diverse. He kept his head down as he made his way through the crowds, ignoring the looks he got for his tattoos and cigarette which he continued to smoke obnoxiously even while waiting for the lights to change at a crossing.

The vinyl pub was in a very trendy part of Gangnam, everything was very clean and aesthetically pleasing.

He stopped to put his cigarette out, looking through the window of the bar, he couldn’t spot Jimin, but he had made it here in good time and still had almost half an hour before they were supposed to meet.

Gritting his teeth he pushed inside.

The lighting was very soft, and at that moment some old sounding jazz was playing. The crowd wasn’t very heavy yet, there were only a few couples sat around at the dinky little tables, which Yoongi had a feeling were probably made out of reclaimed wood.

Deciding he needed a drink Yoongi made his way to the bar, quickly greeting the bartender before picking up the drinks list.

He looked through it once and promptly decided he hated the vinyl bar with a passion. The only soju they had was Hwayo, and the only beers they had all had bullshit names, and were clearly all locally produced craft brews.

With a look of utter distaste he gave up 15,000 won for a glass of fucking soju and found himself a table.

He had a mouthful and shook his head, what was the difference?

He looked around the bar again, the walls were lined with records, all stacked artistically, and to the side was a podium with a record player which was where the music was coming from.

If Jimin didn’t turn up within half an hour, Yoongi was fairly sure he was just going to go home and drink with the others.

He wondered what Jimin would be wearing, would he look the same as he had the last time that Yoongi had seen him. From that impression alone Yoongi could understand why Jimin would want to come here.

Last time he had been wearing a tan turtle neck, a very nice grey coat and black slacks. Everything in the vinyl bar seemed to be tan, brown, white and grey, very chic and trendy.

Yoongi thought he must stick out like a sore thumb sitting there in his cap and bomber jacket.

He felt incredibly uncomfortable, and realised that Jimin was very quickly going to have the upper hand. Yoongi didn’t want to start the night like that, he wanted to seem confident and tough.

He ran through his mind, ticking of options for how he could turn this around in his favour.

They ranged from going back outside and smoking until Jimin arrived, to going up to the podium and putting on a record of his choice.

In the end he hit on an idea that he thought was probably the best.

With his bag in hand he slipped into the bathroom.

He had the perfect plan, he could fluster Jimin, throw him off slightly, and the way to do that, was to take off the turtle neck that was hiding his now yellowing bruises.

A little neck, a little collarbone, paired with the reminder of the things Yoongi had begged Jimin to do to him should definitely get Yoongi a step ahead of the competition.

He stuffed the turtle neck in his bag, and arranged the long drapes shirt that Taehyung had given him. It hung across his chest in such a way that it revealed his sharp collarbones and the tattoos that littered his skin, almost dipping down to his chest.

Yoongi shoved it in his bag and pulled his jacket and cap back on.

Hopefully it would be enough, he could be brazen and confidant; he gave himself one more surreptitious look over in the mirror, quietly cursing at his face, before he went back out.

He sat back down with his over priced soju and waited, his phone sitting next to him so he could touch it every minute or so to check the passing of time.

Finally seven ticked around and he fought to keep his eyes from the entrance, focusing on reading the titles of all the records that were strewn about the place.

But every time he heard the door open and the noise of the street pour in momentarily, he wanted to spin in his seat to see who it was.

“Yoongi?” Said a quiet voice at his back.

He bit down on his lip, managing his face quickly before he turned in his seat.

Jimin looked even better than Yoongi had remembered; as soon as their eyes locked Jimin grinned, his eyes eyes crinkling.

“Hi! I thought you might not come,” Jimin gushed, pulling off his denim jacket, hanging it over the chair next to Yoongi.

“You’ve changed your hair,” Yoongi grunted, looking him up and down, forcing himself to swallow the excess of nervous saliva that had just appeared in his mouth.

“I did, do you like it?” Jimin asked, raising one fine boned hand to his now caramel locks which were styled in soft waves.

Yoongi nodded, he liked it a lot, Jimin looked beautiful.

When he had met him, he felt like he had really hated how attractive Jimin was, it had been irritating. But by the next morning he hadn’t thought that anymore, Jimin had seemed like an angel, some sort of mythical blessing.

“Have you been waiting long?” Jimin asked, sitting down next to him, carefully moving his knee so that it rested against the leg that Yoongi had crossed over the other.

“Half an hour, I got here early,” Yoongi said simply.

“Oh! You should have messaged me, I would have hurried, I don’t live far away.”

Yoongi shrugged, picking up his glass, “Do you know how expensive the drinks are here?” He asked.

“Are they?” Jimin said with wide eyes, “I’ll get you something, what is that?”

“It’s soju, you don’t have to…”

“No, no, I will.”

Jimin stood again, pulling his wallet out of the pocket of his jacket, “I’ll be back,” he assured Yoongi before he was gone again, striding over to the bar.

Yoongi took the opportunity to shamelessly stare at him, he was tucked into very fitted blue jeans. They were the vintage kind, the sort he remembered people wearing in the 90’s, and they sat high on his waist.

Yoongi couldn’t believe how incredibly well they hugged the curve of his perfect ass and his strong thighs.

With a deep breath he finished off the last of the soju, putting the empty glass back down in front of him.

He watched the way that Jimin moved, the way he held himself, so delicate and perfect, he had a hard time connecting the images in his mind.

On one hand he had the exquisite memory of Jimin slamming him against the wall, his forearm wrapped around Yoongi’s throat, his other hand gripping Yoongi’s hip as he thrust into him.

But then he had this demure and effeminate man who raised his pinky as he handed his card over to pay for drinks.

“Here,” Jimin smiled, putting their glasses down, “They are pretty expensive huh?” Jimin said, with an air of noting down an interesting fact.

“Are you gonna write a blog post or something?” Yoongi asked, curling his lip in distaste.

“Who me? No, I just like to know whats good and where,” Jimin laughed, “But anyway, the drinks weren’t why I came here. There’s a guest DJ tonight, he’s a producer who’s worked with loads of hip hop and r’n’b artists; I remember you said you liked that sort of music.”

“Yeah, who is it?” Yoongi asked curiously, cocking his head, better exposing the line of his neck. He noted Jimin’s eyes wander down to the sharp line of his collar bone and the slight reddening of his ears as he noticed the marks that had been put there by his own hands.

“I…I didn’t recognise his name, but I have the event here,” he mumbled quickly, pulling out his phone.

Yoongi didn’t know him either, but a rudimentary search proved that he had in fact worked with many artists that Yoongi knew and liked, spanning the gamut from mainstream through to

underground acts. Yoongi was impressed, both by the DJ and by the fact that Jimin had remembered what he had said about music and brought him somewhere that he thought Yoongi would like.

For that reason alone he tried to put aside his intense hatred for the place and enjoy the vibes.

“What are you drinking?” Yoongi asked, looking down at Jimin’s glass.

“It’s just cider,” Jimin shrugged.

“You’re not drinking?”

“I have a confession to make,” Jimin winced, leaning forward a little, “I actually don’t like drinking, I’m not very good at it, and I always get sick the next day.”

“Oh, then why did you drink so much the other night?” Yoongi asked confusedly, he definitely remembered Jimin begging him to buy him drinks.

“It’s embarrassing,” Jimin groaned, “I wanted to impress you.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, well there was a first time for everything, but he still couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that Jimin was interested in him. Interested enough to do something that he knew was going to make him ill, just in the hopes of attracting Yoongi’s attention; it didn’t make any sense at all.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, “That’s fucking weird,” he grunted, having a mouthful of the over priced soju, feeling it burn slightly as it slid down his throat.

“Why?” Jimin asked quickly.

“Why? I don’t get why the fuck would you want to impress me?” Yoongi said shaking his head.

Jimin looked taken aback, “You’re a little intimidating you know,” he pointed out.

At that Yoongi had to laugh, were they just going to completely skim over everything that had passed between them the week before?

“I’m intimidating,” he said pointedly, meeting Jimin’s gaze, “That’s not how I remember that night, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin’s ears turned red for a second time and he broke his eyes away, looking down at his hands for a second before looking up again.

“I know we…spoke about that already, but again, I feel pretty burdened…about that,” Jimin mumbled, brushing a hand through his hair.

Yoongi did not remember Jimin being this meek, he didn’t like it, he wanted the guy who told him he was an arrogant pig back again.

“And I remember telling you that it was fine,” Yoongi countered sharply.

Jimin nodded, but didn’t respond, turning his attention to the podium where the DJ was now setting up, opening a case of records which he seemed to have brought himself.

They didn’t speak much sitting in a slightly awkward silence, both of them watching the DJ who wasn’t doing a lot besides drinking, and changing the record each time a song finished. The music was kept at a volume that allowed for easy conversation, making their silence all the more uncomfortable.

“Jimin,” Yoongi finally mumbled, after he had finished his second drink. “Why are you acting so strangely?”

“Me? I’m not?”

“You are,” Yoongi assured him, narrowing his gaze at Jimin’s wide eye’d look of confusion. “You weren’t like this last time, why are you being so respectful and shit?”

“I was drunk last time,” Jimin pointed out.

“So what?” Yoongi shrugged.

“Do you…want me to be disrespectful and rude, what are you asking for here, hyung?” Jimin asked.

“I…” Yoongi paused, what was he asking for here. Of course, he knew exactly what he was asking for, he wanted Jimin to treat him how he had the other night, it was all he’d been thinking about all week. But how was he supposed to ask that and not sound pathetic? “I just remember you being different,” he settled on lamely.

“Have you been thinking about what I was like a lot?” Jimin asked with a slight smirk.

“No,” Yoongi grunted.

“Tell me the truth,” Jimin urged, pressing his knee back against Yoongi’s leg.

Yoongi looked up at the change in Jimin’s tone, catching the look in his eye, unable to help it Yoongi smiled, exposing his teeth.

Jimin laughed as well, and it felt like the awkwardness had been dispelled, “So tell me,” Jimin said again, “You’ve been thinking about me?”

Yoongi nodded slightly, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You left an impression,” he said simply.

“I left quite a few,” Jimin grinned, reaching up to very lightly run his finger across Yoongi’s throat, dropping it again quickly, not wanting to be overly obvious since they were in the middle of a now quite busy bar.

Yoongi felt the saliva pool again, and leant back, crossing his arms over his chest, trying not to visibly gulp.

Conversation flowed more easily from that point; they talked about the music the DJ was playing. A lot of it was old 90’s hip hop stuff that Yoongi had really liked when he was younger, and that he now listened to a lot, mostly out of nostalgia and laziness.

“I really don’t know anything about any music before like 2010,” Jimin admitted with a grimace.

“That’s ridiculous, what do you listen to?” Yoongi asked.

“I like…easy stuff, mellow house and pop,” Jimin shrugged.

Yoongi shook his head, mellow house and pop were genres that were anathema to him, mass produced mind numbing bullshit, he had no time for it.

“I’m not going to ask for specific examples,” Yoongi grunted, “I know you like KARD, that says enough, so I’m just gonna let it go,” he muttered as though he was being infinitely generous.

“I can like what I like,” Jimin huffed.

“You can, I can also dislike it,” Yoongi pointed out raising one pointy eyebrow.

Jimin nodded, “I suppose that’s true,” he chuckled, smiling crookedly at Yoongi.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Yoongi warned, “I don’t like being laughed at.”

“But I love laughing,” Jimin countered, “And sometimes, you really are funny.”

“You can laugh if I tell a joke.”

“Do you tell jokes, hyung?” Jimin asked, leaning his head on his hand watching Yoongi intently.

“I can, but I won’t if you put me on the spot, so don’t ask,” Yoongi warned.

Their conversation continued in a similar vein, with Jimin baiting Yoongi until he bit, and then appeasing him deftly.

Yoongi got the feeling that Jimin really enjoyed it, seeing how close he could get Yoongi to genuinely annoyed before he reeled it back and made Yoongi smile again. Yoongi didn’t mind, he was getting more used to Jimin’s style and it was almost fun, he started acting a little to give Jimin better reactions to work with.

“I’ve got some people over at my house tonight,” Yoongi said after they had been sitting and talking, exchanging furtive touches occasionally for nearly two hours. “Do you wanna come back with me?” He asked.

Jimin looked down at his phone quickly, checking the date, “Yeah I could do that, I don’t think I have anything I need to do tomorrow.”

“Okay, good,” Yoongi nodded, “Should we go?”

“Yeah, come on,” Jimin agreed, pushing up from his seat, holding out a hand to pull Yoongi up. “We’re getting a taxi,” Jimin warned, “I’m not getting two different trains just to get to Yongsan, so don’t bother suggesting it.”

He had already listened to Yoongi tell him about his trip across the city that afternoon, and his internal debate about the buffet.

“I’m not paying for it,” Yoongi grunted, “So if you want to, that’s up to you.”

“I’ll pay, you’re a swindler, hyung,” Jimin huffed, putting one hand discretely on the base of Yoongi’s spine, guiding him out of the bar.

“I’ve heard that,” Yoongi nodded, pulling his hat down a little as they ducked onto the street. He tugged his mask out of his pocket and hooked it onto his ears, protecting his mouth and cheeks from the cold.

“Hyung,” Jimin complained as they stepped back onto the street, “We just get out of the bar and you cover your mouth?”

“So?”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Jimin admitted, his hand still on Yoongi’s back.

“Here?” Yoongi asked, it may not have been the bar, but it was still a very busy street in the middle of Gangnam-dong.

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded, reaching up with his other hand to unhook the mask again, letting it hang from only one of Yoongi’s ears.

He guided Yoongi forward easily, pressing their hips together.

Yoongi could feel his heart rate increasing swiftly as he met Jimin’s gaze. Helpfully he lifted his cap, making it easier for Jimin to lean forwards, their lips meeting.

With a sigh that he definitely did not mean to let out, Yoongi wrapped one arm around Jimin’s shoulders, pushing to deepen the kiss.

He heard someone shout something from a passing car and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to pull away and shout back.

Jimin’s finger’s dug in against his back as he purposefully made the kiss a little more over the top, pulling Yoongi closer, putting on a show for the bigot in the car, who continued to shout profanities at them as he drove away.

“Fucker,” Yoongi grunted as he broke his lips away from Jimin’s, “I hate every cunt in this fucking city.”

“Come on, don’t be dramatic,” Jimin laughed, though his face also looked dark.

Yoongi shook his head and stepped to the curb, flagging down a taxi. “You really hate that sort of stuff, don’t you?” Jimin asked as they climbed in.

“Don’t you?” Yoongi snapped, neglecting his seat belt, turning to face Jimin instead.

“I do, of course, I just don’t let it get to me,” he shrugged.

Yoongi wasn’t sure how he was supposed to not let things get to him, when they were literally a personal attack on him. He was not the sort of person who could take criticism lightly, especially when it was about something like his sexuality. He couldn’t understand how people could be so intolerant when it didn’t affect them at all.

Yoongi shook his head, looking down at his hands, which he had threaded together angrily, his knuckles protruding.

“Yoongi,” Jimin said quietly, moving closer to him, “I’m going to kiss you again,” he warned, lifting Yoongi’s head, “Is that okay?”

Yoongi let out a huff and nodded, of course it was okay, but he still felt like he wanted to hit something.

As Jimin slid their mouths together once more, pushing his tongue gently against Yoongi’s, he also took both of his wrists in his hands and applied a small amount of pressure.

It was like instantly, the anger that had been boiling under Yoongi’s skin dissipated, all he needed to focus on was the way that Jimin felt against him, his mouth and his cheeks. He was so warm, and his hands were incredibly comforting.

Yoongi had no idea how long they’d been kissing for, he just knew that it was the best he’d felt all week.

Jimin broke their mouths apart eventually and took a slightly shaky breath, leaning his head against Yoongi’s shoulder.

As the taxi stopped at another intersection, Jimin looked up to meet Yoongi’s eyes, before he gently pressed his lips against one of the most prominent bruises on his throat.

Yoongi tipped his head back, happily exposing his neck for Jimin.

Jimin chuckled quietly, letting go of one wrist to bring his hand up to Yoongi’s jaw, cupping his face.

“You look so good like this,” he murmured, quiet enough that the driver wouldn’t hear them.

Yoongi didn’t really know how to answer that, so he elected to stay silent, narrowing his eyes at the man in front of him. It was still a mystery to him that Jimin thought he was attractive, but he wasn’t going to question it.

Every time he thought about it to deeply he had a sharp memory of Jimin saying that he was unattractive, and then murmuring that he didn’t look any different with his clothes off.

But then he tried to remind himself that that didn’t make any sense, because otherwise why would Jimin be here at all.

“We’re nearly there,” Yoongi managed, looking out the window at the buildings he recognised.

“Mmm,” Jimin nodded, running his hand down Yoongi’s chest, his fingers dragging at the thin material of Taehyung’s shirt. “I can’t believe you showed up tonight looking like this, you’re shameless,” he mumbled, tugging at the shirt a little more.

Yoongi smiled to himself, his master plan had been successful, well it wasn’t that shocking, most of his plans were. He brought up his hand, threading his fingers through Jimin’s soft hair, bringing his face back up so that he could kiss him again, keeping it brief before gently pushing Jimin away. He really needed to get his breath back and adjust his pants before they got back to the apartment.

Jimin bit his lip, watching Yoongi shift about uncomfortably, “So who’s going to be there tonight?” He asked.

“No one you know,” Yoongi shrugged.

“Great,” Jimin laughed.

“They aren’t really my friends either, it’s Hoseok’s crowd,” Yoongi explained.

“Who’s Hoseok?”

“My roommate, you would have met him last week.”

“Maybe…I’ll probably recognise him when I see him,” Jimin nodded.

The taxi turned onto his street and Yoongi sat up a little straighter, pulling his hat back on properly and hooking his mask onto the other ear.

Jimin paid while Yoongi climbed out, slouching around the car to the sidewalk.

He was infinitely grateful for how loose and long Taehyung’s shirt was, hanging down to his knee’s, protecting his modesty for him.

Jimin stepped out a moment later, tucking his wallet back into the pocket of his denim jacket.

“Why did you decide to go with double denim?” Yoongi asked as they pushed into the laundrette.

“It’s vintage inspired,” Jimin explained, “If you’ll look, my whole outfit is vintage inspired.”

He stopped under the bright lights to show Yoongi the various elements of his clothing choices for the day.

A denim jacket, baggy white shirt, very tight jeans, chunky sneakers.

“Are you saying you don’t think I look good?” Jimin asked sharply after catching the look on Yoongi’s face.

“No!” Yoongi said quickly, “No, no. You look amazing, those jeans are…” he trailed off, shaking his head. Those jeans were fucking criminal, the way they hugged his thighs, Yoongi thought he might lose his mind just looking at him.

Jimin nodded, “Good, that’s what I thought.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose, “come on,” he huffed.

They could already hear the raucous laughter from behind the door that separated their lounge from the laundry. Yoongi headed down the short hall, pushing it open quickly, ducking through the beaded curtain, holding it aside from Jimin.

“Wahhh! Yoongi-oppa!” Someone squealed, and Yoongi turned just in time to have someone fly into his arms.

The faded orange hair gave it away quickly, the person hugging him was Minseo.

“Yes, yes, oppa’s back,” Yoongi nodded sagely.

“Don’t make me vomit,” Hyunah grunted, looking up at him from where everyone was sitting around the table, a mess of bottles in front of them.

“Everyone, this is Park Jimin,” he said, gesturing to the man at his back. Quickly Jimin went around and let everyone great him, noting down their names. While Yoongi tried to detangle the clearly quite drunk Minseo from his arms.

“Do you want a drink, oppa?” Minseo asked, her wide eyes boring into his.

“Yeah,” he nodded, keeping her steady.

“What?”

“Makgeolli.”

“I’ll get it!”

Minseo stumbled away from him to the collection of bags on the floor beside the computers.

“How much has she drunk?” Yoongi asked, sitting down between Hyunah and Kiyoung.

“She keeps losing the games,” Hyunah laughed.

Jimin had somehow been roped into sitting next to Taehyung who was looking in wonder at the shoes that Jimin had taken off.

“Are we playing games?” Yoongi asked, “whats been played so far?”

Hyunah quickly updated him on the progress of the evening, it sounded like they hadn’t missed out on too much. The vital information was that the last person to lose had been Minseo.

Quickly just as Minseo sat down Yoongi hit his hands on the table.

“Minseo’s favourite random Game!” he called, everyone joining him once he started.

They all turned to look at Minseo who looked wide eye’d and panicked.

“Uhhh… 007 bang!” She said quickly, not loosing the rhythm of the chant. “Gong,” she said, raising her hand to shoot at Taehyung.

“Gong,” he grinned, pointing at Sukchin,

“Chil,” Sukchin laughed, shooting at Hyunah,

“Bang!” Hyunah shouted, shooting at Minseo who automatically raised her hands. A wave of laughter went up around the room as Taehyung and Hoseok berated her for raising her hands when they should have.

In the end Minseo had to drink again.

They ran through basically every game they knew until Yoongi thought he was pretty buzzed, having nearly finished two bottles of makgeolli.

“Yoongi’s favourite random game!” Everyone called. Yoongi racked his mind as they clapped.

“Tangsuyuk!” He managed just in the nick of time. “Tang!” He started, everyone going around the circle saying different syllables until inevitably someone fucked up; this person was Kiyoung.

Yoongi flopped down on the floor, looking up at their water damaged ceiling.

“Can we order Tangsuyuk?” He asked loudly, “I want Tangsuyuk.”

What followed was a mad scramble to try and find out what everyone wanted, ending up with a huge order.

The games sort of fell apart from that point, and everyone started up their own conversations, some music being put on from the computers.

“How’ve you been Yoongi-ah?” Kiyoung asked, turning towards him.

Yoongi really liked Kiyoung, he was the only person he knew with more tattoo’s than him; though Kiyoung’s were of a better quality. He had also been responsible for most of the nicer tattoos that Yoongi had.

“I’ve been good, just trying to earn, you know?” He laughed, “how about you?”

“Really good, I don’t know if Hoseok told you, but I closed on a contract for the shop,” Kiyoung grinned.

Yoongi knew that he had been trying for months to get a place to set up a tattoo parlour.

“Oh, amazing!” Yoongi grinned.

“I’ve actually got a few new flashes I wanna try out if your interested in having some work done?” Kiyoung asked.

“Like right now?” Yoongi asked, suddenly very interested.

“No, I meant like, next week,” Kiyoung laughed, patting Yoongi on the knee. “But I mean, I do have my gun in the car.”

“Really?” Yoongi said quickly.

“Yeah,” Kiyoung nodded, “should I grab it? Is it that sort of night?”

“Get it, definitely!” Yoongi cheered, helping to push Kiyoung to his feet.

“Hoseok-ah!” Yoongi laughed, reaching across the table to whack Hoseok.

“What?” Hoseok grunted, looking away from Hyunah.

“Kiyoung’s getting the gun.”

“Oh!” Hoseok grinned, “What are you getting?”

“Dunno,” Yoongi shrugged, “He’s got new flashes, I’ll just pick one.”

“What are you doing?” Jimin asked, leaning across the table, both he and Taehyung looking at Yoongi.

“Getting a tattoo,” Yoongi shrugged.

Jimin narrowed his eyes, “Who’s giving you a tattoo?” He asked, looking around.

“Kiyoung-ah,” Yoongi said dismissively as Minseo was now poking him incessantly.

“Oppa,” she whined, “I haven’t seen you in ages, you promised me steak, don’t you remember?”

“Nope.”

“Oppa!” Minseo exclaimed, hitting his shoulder, “We made a bet, you bet I couldn’t do a handstand, and I did!”

“I was drunk,” Yoongi laughed, “Sometimes oppa is forgetful,” he said seriously patting her head.

“You have to buy me steak,” she said pouting.

Yoongi covered his face, dissolving into laughter, “I’ll buy you steak,” he said finally, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “But you have to do a handstand again.”

“Again! I already did it once, oppa isn’t fair,” Minseo whined.

“Oppa is a cruel master,” Yoongi laughed.

He really liked Minseo, he didn't really understand why she and Hyunah were friends, their personalities were completely different. Minseo was incredibly bubbly and liked to unironically act cute to get things that she wanted. Hyunah on the other hand had never done anything that could be considered cute in her life, the very sight of it made her physically retch.

Yoongi, who was a big fan of watching people make a fool of themselves, loved it when other people did aegyo; he would of course never do it himself, but he would watch.

“I’ll buy it for you,” he promised finally, “but Tangsuyuk is coming now, and that’s all that matters!” He cheered finishing off the last of his makgeolli.

“I’ll get more, oppa,” Minseo assured him, climbing unsteadily to her feet.

Yoongi looked across the table at Jimin who was now being poured a drink by Choonhoon.

“Have you done your military service yet, Jimin-ssi?” Choonhoon asked.

“Mmm, yeah,” Jimin nodded.

“Did they use to do this in your company?” Choonhoon asked, suddenly dropping chopsticks in Jimin’s glass of beer. Jimin looked a little startled, but comprehension dawned on his face,

“ohhh, yeah, yeah,” he nodded.

Choonhoon separated them so they leant on opposite sides of the glass and suddenly snapped them together, the foam rising rapidly so that Jimin had to lean down and suck it up quickly before it overflowed.

Yoongi, who now knew that Jimin didn’t like drinking, felt a little sorry for him, sitting at a table with eight heavy drinkers.

He was distracted however as Kiyoung appeared once more, awkwardly carrying a lot of mechanical items.

“It’s fine, don’t help,” he grunted at Yoongi, who jumped up, choking a little on the liquid in his mouth as he laughed, grabbing a few things out of Kiyoung’s hands.

They set up a station where they were sitting, Kiyoung opening up his case, fiddling with wires, plugging the power box and hooking it to the gun.

“Okay choose,” he said, pulling out the flash sheet.

Yoongi shrugged, “Everyone,” he called, holding up the piece of paper, “everyone pick one, rock paper scissors for which one I get,” he suggested.

The paper was passed around, everyone choosing their particular favourite, and then the game began.

“Throw up or lose!” Yoongi shouted as everyone threw their first shot.

A few were quickly eliminated until it was Hyunah, Jimin and Choonhoon battling for the last spot.

“Throw up or lose,” Yoongi said, and watched as both Hyunah and Choonhoon threw scissors and Jimin threw a rock.

“Wahhh!” He cheered, leaning forward to grab Jimin’s hand, “Mansae! Mansae! Man mansae!!”

“I’m not happy about this,” Jimin grumbled, sinking sulkily back down on the other side of the table as his flash was traced.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked curiously as Kiyoung drew.

“A surprise, don’t look,” Kiyoung laughed, “Find me a spot.”

“Rock paper scissors, for where I get it?” He asked.

“No!” Hyunah barked, in the middle of mixing herself a drink.

“Fine,” Yoongi laughed. He tugged his jacket off and pulled Taehyung’s shirt up over his head.

He looked across his chest and stomach trying to think of an appropriate place that didn’t require him taking his pants off.

“Here?” He asked, pointing to a spot just under his underarm.

“Wahh, that’s gonna hurt,” Kiyoung warned.

“I can take it,” Yoongi laughed.

“Oppa! You have so many now,” Minseo said her fingers suddenly on his stomach.

“Minseo-yah, have a look over my shoulder and tell me what Kiyoung is drawing,” Yoongi said in a whisper, Minseo looking over him to peek.

“It’s a love heart with a banner,” she muttered her eyes ridiculously big.

“You look like a cartoon character, did you know that?” He asked with a laugh.

“Oppa!” She squealed, her face suddenly going serious, “I do don’t I?” She said in a dead pan.

Yoongi threw his head back, “Very modest, well done!”

He took his new bottle of makgeolli from her and shook it carefully, twisting the top slowly so it didn’t foam over.

He lifted his arm for Kiyoung and let him press the transfer into its designated space.

“I’m not colouring this am I?” Kiyoung asked, “I’m to drunk to do shading.”

“Nah, nah” Yoongi assured him.

Suddenly the lounge was filled with the metallic buzz of the gun, and everyone stopped talking to watch.

Yoongi had another large mouthful as Kiyoung dipped the tip in the ink and brought it up, “I’m starting,” he warned, before he pressed the needle to Yoongi’s skin.

Yoongi let out an appreciative hiss, it really did hurt, especially as the line travelled across his ribs.

“Yoongi-yah,” Hyunah laughed, “Your eyes actually look big.”

“Fuck off,” he snapped.

He looked across the table at Jimin who was watching with a strange look on his face as the love heart he had chosen was embedded into Yoongi’s skin.

“What should I write in it?” Kiyoung asked as he worked.

“No idea,” Yoongi shrugged, “Jimin-ah, what should he write in it?”

“If you put my name I swear I will make you bleed,” Jimin threatened.

“Okay, Jimin’s name is out,” Yoongi relayed to Kiyoung with a chuckle.

“I gathered.”

“I’ll think about it,” Yoongi assured him.

“More games!” Minseo called out, sitting comfortably, leaning on the table.

“Minseo’s favourite random game!” Yoongi called.

“Image game!” Minseo grinned. “The most likely to get married? On three—”

It seemed that the general consensus was that most people thought that Choonhoon was the most likely to get married, six of the seven people pointing at him. He pointed at Sukchin, and Jimin randomly pointed at Hyunah.

“This is unfair, I don’t know any of you!” Jimin complained.

“Well you’re learning,” Hyunah said shortly, “Choonhoon oppa, drink.”

Choonhoon drank his shot and looked around.

“Most likely to…get arrested.”

Suddenly Yoongi found every finger pointed directly at him before he even had time to raise his hand.

“Thugs!” He barked, lifting the bottle to his mouth again, wincing as his shifting made the needle dig deeper against his ribs.

“Can you stay still?!” Kiyoung scolded.

“Sorry. Let’s make this fun, most likely to… marry for money?” He grinned, bringing up his hand to quickly point it at Taehyung.

Hyunah, Hoseok and Jimin also pointed at their younger friend, Sukchin pointed at Choonhoon, who sent his vote at Minseo.

“Four votes for our maknae!” Hoseok grinned, thumping Taehyung on the back.

Taehyung looked as though he was going to protest but then nodded.

“You’re right,” he sighed, pouring himself a shot and throwing it back without complaint. “Fine! Who’s the most likely to get a drunk tattoo?” Taehyung asked spitefully, and Yoongi once again found all fingers pointed at him.

“Kim Taehyung!” He bellowed, wishing he could jump up to slap him.

Taehyung clutched his sides, laughing hysterically at Yoongi’s red face as everyone pressured him to drink more.

Yoongi tipped the bottle back, having a big mouthful, luckily the constant pain was stopping the alcohol from really taking effect.

“Fine, most likely to cry during sex?” Yoongi hissed, knowing damn well that the answer was Taehyung, but to his surprise everyone besides Taehyung and Hoseok pointed at Jimin.

Jimin looked taken aback, “Me?” he asked confusedly as he looked at their fingers.

Yoongi fought to manage his face as everyone gave their reasons for why they thought it was probably Jimin. Which seemed to boil down to the fact that Jimin was very pretty and looked quite delicate, and that someone like that would be most likely to be emotional during sex.

Yoongi made eye contact with him across the table, raising an eyebrow. Jimin gave him a dark look and had a small mouthful of beer. Yoongi felt a thrill in his stomach at the look in Jimin’s eye, it was a look that said very clearly that Yoongi knew the truth of it, and would be on the receiving end again very soon.

The game continued, but a few minutes later Hyunah’s phone rang, “Oh! Delivery!” She exclaimed once she had picked it up.

The delivery people always had trouble finding their apartment, so Hyunah and Minseo hurried through the shop to collect the food.

They came back with their arms laden.

“Food!” Taehyung cheered, trying to quickly clear the table of all the shit that littered it.

Everything was deposited without issue and everyone was given mismatched plates.

“Oh fuck it smells good!” Minseo groaned, leaning in to start grabbing things for herself.

“Minseo-yah!” Yoongi grunted, “Tangsuyuk, get me some Tangsuyuk.”

He opened his mouth obediently as the food came towards him. He groaned in pleasure, taking as long as he could to chew the small mouthful he had been allotted.

“Yoongi-yah, what am I putting in the scroll?” Kiyoung said wiping the tattoo clean again. Yoongi’s arm was starting to go numb from being held in the air, and every time the skin was swiped clean it felt like sandpaper being run across the tattoo.

“Tangsuyuk!” Yoongi, mumbled, as he grabbed the container testily, displeased with his meagre portion, and began shovelling food in his mouth.

“Tangsuyuk?” Kiyoung laughed, “Sure.”

The pain began anew as Kiyoung freehanded the characters, doing a final wipe before turning the machine off.

“Done.”

Yoongi carefully lowered his arm, swinging it in circles to try and regain circulation.

“How does it look?” He asked Hoseok, turning his body so Hoseok could see.

Hoseok had not heard the exchange between Kiyoung and Yoongi and as he read the characters he spat chicken all over his lap.

“What? What does it say?” Taehyung exclaimed, seeing Hoseok’s reaction, he pushed himself half way across the table to look and then fell back laughing.

“It says Tangsuyuk,” Taehyung managed when Jimin asked him what it was.

Jimin looked up to meet Yoongi’s eyes, shaking his head. Yoongi shrugged, if Jimin was really into him, then he should be aware of the dumb shit that Yoongi often did.

“Let me wrap it,” Kiyoung urged, spraying some cold stuff on it and patting it dry, before he taped a piece of clear wrap in a square around it.

Yoongi eased himself back into Taehyung’s shirt, and immediately grabbed chopsticks and started digging into the tangsuyuk, only pulling back once his mouth was entirely full.

It didn’t take long for them to clear the table of food, with nine people everything was gone within ten minutes.

“I need to smoke,” Yoongi said across the table to Hoseok.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Hoseok nodded, climbing to his feet, adjusting his hoodie.

Taehyung and Jimin also stood, following them out through the back door.

Yoongi sat down on the ledge, lighting his cigarette.

“I can’t believe you got Tangsuyuk tattooed on your body,” Jimin said shaking his head, leaning next to Yoongi.

“I can,” Taehyung laughed, “Have you seen most of that hyungs tattoos, they’re all fucking stupid!”

“I’m sorry, but I did half of those!” Hoseok exclaimed, cuffing Taehyung on the back of the head.

“Hyungnim,” Taehyung laughed, bowing, rubbing his head, his long dark hair falling in his face.

“So why isn’t Youngsik here tonight Taehyung?” Jimin asked, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning slightly against Yoongi.

“Oh…hmm, I don’t really know what to do about Youngsik-hyung,” Taehyung shrugged.

“In what way?” Jimin pressed.

“Well I think he’s into me, but I’m not…that into him,” Taehyung admitted.

“How old is he?” Jimin asked curiously.

“’90,” Yoongi supplied helpfully

“Ahhh no, you’re still young, if you’re not that into him, just go find someone else. No wonder he’s looking for something serious,” Jimin laughed.

“The problem is, I like him enough that I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” Taehyung sighed, “I shouldn’t have slept with him again.”

“Taehyung-ah, if you felt bad about sleeping with him again, then why has been over half the nights this week?” Hoseok asked sarcastically, cocking his head as he had a drag of his cigarette.

Taehyung immediately went bright red, “Hyung!” He exclaimed, grabbing his cheeks.

“I’m just asking? Did you think we didn’t know about that? Did you think noona would really not tell me?”

Yoongi laughed, watching Taehyung struggle with the fresh betrayal.

“That’s why I don’t know what to do,” Taehyung grumbled eventually, “It’s gone a bit far now.”

“Have you slept with him every time he’s come over?” Jimin asked curiously.

“I…no, but…other stuff,” Taehyung winced.

“Oh Taehyung-ie,” Jimin sighed, leaning forward to pat the man on the shoulder, “It sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a relationship doesn’t it.”

“Well, what about you two?” Taehyung said suddenly, wanting to turn blame on someone who wasn’t him.

“What about us?” Yoongi asked, his lip curling.

Taehyung laughed nervously, looking sideways at Hoseok, who shrugged, refusing to help him get himself out of trouble.

“Hyung,” Taehyung said, sounding unsure, “You went on a date tonight.”

“Did we?” Yoongi snapped, “thanks, I hadn’t actually noticed.” He bowed sarcastically, scowling at Taehyung.

“I like your tattoo,” Taehyung said lamely, “it’s funny.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at his young friend, shaking his head.

“We did go on a date though, hyung,” Jimin put in with a grin, sliding an arm around Yoongi’s back, “It was nice, I thought it was nice?”

“It was fine,” Yoongi grumbled, not impressed that Taehyung had put him in this position, Jimin’s fingers gripped his waist, holding Yoongi against his side.

“I had a question, the guys inside, do they know? About you and Taehyung…?” Jimin asked, looking between them.

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded, “But we don’t really talk about it in front of them.”

“They’re fine with it,” Hoseok clarified, “They can just be a bit awkward.”

“They really don’t care?” Jimin asked curiously.

“Yeah,” Hoseok nodded, “Why?”

“I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t had some sort of problem with it once they found out,” Jimin explained.

“Hyung, I understand,” Taehyung nodded, “Until I met these hyung’s I’d never met anyone either. My parents sent me to conversion therapy, no one I knew even blinked,” Taehyung said with wide eyes.

Yoongi never really forgot about everything that Taehyung had gone through, but he put up such a positive front so much of the time, that it was easier to put it to one side. Until of course he dropped it in casual conversation; which he sometimes did.

“What?!” Jimin asked, looking shocked.

“Yeah, they thought they could cure me, and when they couldn’t they kept me locked in my room, until I ran away and that’s when I met hyung,” Taehyung laughed.

That was a very moderated version of the real story.

When Yoongi had met Taehyung he had been a homeless drug addict, moving from couch to couch, doing anything he could to get money for more drugs.

“And you ended up living together?” Jimin asked, looking at Yoongi, holding him a little closer.

“Yeah, hyung had only known me for a few days, but he asked if I needed a room,” Taehyung smiled, looking adoringly at Yoongi, making Yoongi forget that he had been angry at Taehyung only a minute ago.

“It was shit for the rest of us though,” Hoseok laughed, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders, “Suddenly our apartment was full of fucking pop music and banana peels.”

That wasn’t entirely true either, there was a lot of skimming over the facts that was occurring. They had taken Taehyung in, and the three of them had had to help him detox from all the drugs he had been on.

No one had cared about the pop music or the banana peels, because it was like, all of a sudden the broken shell of a human they had found, was starting to become a person with a personality. Getting to know Taehyung, very slowly over the few months from when he had moved in had been incredibly interesting.

The Taehyung he was now, was absolutely nothing like the guy Yoongi had met initially, he had had no interests, no substance. For weeks all he had done was cry and beg for drugs, and then he had started talking; they had found out more about his life, and how he had ended up where they had found him.

They had discovered his love for bananas, which he claimed made your skin glow, they had also discovered he obsessively loved pop music and would sit and watch Countdown while he did his nightly face mask.

He had started to gain weight, and his face had slowly changed from something that was gaunt and malnourished, to the tanned soft featured man he was now.

“It’s okay, Taehyung-ah,” Jimin smiled, “I like pop music as well, these hyungs just don’t like being happy,” he laughed.

“Exactly!” Taehyung exclaimed, “I just like being happy, pop music is happy, it’s not like I’m some sort of pop-mania, I just like it! Leave me alone!” He pouted, looking between Hoseok and Yoongi, who were both shaking their heads.

“I need to drink more,” Yoongi grumbled, “this is starting to hurt.” He lifted his arm to poke experimentally at the tattoo through his shirt, wincing as he made contact.

“Leave it alone,” Jimin huffed, grabbing his wrist, “It’s only gonna hurt more if you keep touching it.”

Yoongi clenched his teeth, “I was just checking it.”

“It’s not gonna be any different to how it was a few minutes ago,” Jimin reasoned, squeezing his wrist as he lowered it away from Yoongi’s underarm.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, having a drag of his cigarette.

“I’m going in,” Hoseok said, flicking his cigarette away, “Hurry up,” he ordered.

Taehyung looked conflicted, torn between staying with Yoongi, or following Hoseok, “I’ll… go in too,” he decided finally, disappearing after Hoseok.

Yoongi turned his head to look up at Jimin.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” He asked, Jimin still holding his wrist.

“No,” Jimin said slowly, shaking his head.

“Cool,” Yoongi nodded, trying to sound like he didn’t care.

“You’re gonna come to my house.”

“Your house?”

“Yeah, my house. My house has a bed, and it’s clean, and there are no other people there.”

“Are you saying my house is dirty?” Yoongi huffed.

“Yes! Are you joking, it’s disgusting, hyung. I don’t know how you live like this, honestly. I’m not gonna fuck you on your disgusting floor another time…I’ll pay for the taxi, since you’re so cheap. Okay?”

“Fine,” Yoongi nodded, he supposed that wouldn’t be bad, an empty house with just he and Jimin in it, that could, in fact, be very good. “When do you want to leave?”

“Soon, before you get too drunk,” Jimin said wearily, bringing Yoongi’s hand up to his mouth so that he could press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I won’t get too drunk,” Yoongi assured him, letting Jimin pull him a little closer, always happy to be completely in Jimin’s space.

“You’re already on your third bottle of makgeolli, and you stink like it,” Jimin added, wrinkling his nose.

Yoongi furtively sniffed himself; he couldn’t smell it, but he was fairly sure that his whole apartment and all his things smelled vaguely like fermented rice wine.

“I’ll brush my teeth before we go,” Yoongi nodded resignedly, he could do that for Jimin, definitely.

“Come on,” Jimin nodded, “Bring some other clothes also.”

“I hate to break it to you, but these are probably the cleanest things I have,” Yoongi shrugged.

“Fine, don’t worry about it, I’ll find you some things,” Jimin snapped.

He took the cigarette out of Yoongi’s hands and stubbed it out on the ledge, resting it their carefully before he herded Yoongi back inside.

Jimin went back to sit with Taehyung while Yoongi disappeared into the bathroom, brushing his teeth diligently, he even refreshed his cologne, patting some into his neck and wrists.

“Okay,” he said in english. “Lets go.”

“Wait oppa, where are you going?” Minseo asked, swivelling to face him.

“Oppa has to go out,” he nodded seriously.

“Oppa, no!” She gasped dramatically.

“Oppa yes,” Yoongi sighed.

“God, please stop,” Hyunah begged, making Minseo break into peels of loud nasal laughter.

“Keep that clean!” Kiyoung shouted from the other side of the table, gesturing at Yoongi’s side. Yoongi gave him a thumbs up as he pulled his jacket back on and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back later,” he said simply, walking out before anyone could try and talk to him.

Jimin took a little longer, assumedly saying a formal goodbye to all the people he had met that night, but after a few minutes he also joined Yoongi on the street.

“Does my breath smell better?” Yoongi asked, leaning in to breath in Jimin’s face once they were side by side.

Jimin caught him and pulled him closer, “Mmm, much better,” he nodded, cupping Yoongi’s jaw.

“We have to get a taxi,” Yoongi pointed out, though not really caring, his lips barely a breath from Jimin’s.

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Jimin nodded, pulling away abruptly, leaving Yoongi with wide longing eyes, staring at Jimin’s back.

Jimin flagged them down a taxi, he looked ridiculous and cocky with his stupid smile, grinning at Yoongi as he let him get in first sliding in after him.

Jimin talked meaninglessly about life in Seoul while they travelled across the city, telling Yoongi all the things he thought were strange after coming up from Busan.

“Have you been to Busan before?” Jimin asked, looking at Yoongi from the other side of the car.

Yoongi really didn’t like how far away Jimin was, but he wasn’t going to move closer to him.

“No, but my eomma is from Busan, she grew up there,” Yoongi shrugged.

“Oh, really?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah, but she moved to Seoul just after I was born, and I’ve never been there.”

“You should go, Busan is nice,” Jimin assured him.

“You know where else is nice?” Yoongi asked sarcastically, “Jeju Island. I think that if I was going to go anywhere out of Seoul, it would Jeju Island, not fucking Busan.”

“No way! Jeju Island is just a tourist trap, Busan is better.”

“I don’t believe you,” Yoongi shrugged, “I’m still gonna go to Jeju Island, and drink fucking cocktails and lay on the beach.”

“I can’t imagine you on a beach,” Jimin laughed.

“Why, because I’m pale?” Yoongi asked.

“Yeah.”

“It’s not really a conscious choice on my behalf to be so pale, most of my work requires me to be inside, or doing shit at night,” Yoongi explained.

“What IT stuff requires you to work at night?” Jimin asked with an odd look.

Crime…the crime sort of IT.

But Yoongi remembered quickly that Jimin thought he was a white collar hipster with tattoo’s who just happened to work in IT.

“Just servers and shit, if you’re doing security, you have to make sure everything is working around the clock,” he shrugged.

“A very dedicated cyber security man,” Jimin laughed, reaching over to pat Yoongi’s leg.

“Do you have a laptop?” Yoongi asked.

“Of course.”

“I’ll do security for you, you’ll never get a virus. I’m just that good.”

“I’ve already got fully competent security, thank you,” Jimin assured him.

Yoongi was fairly relieved, he didn’t actually have any security software that would be suited to a personal laptop, he could probably modify some of the more serious codes he had backed up, but it wouldn’t work as well. It was basically just an empty offer to try and show off a little.

“Also, if I go in the sun, I get freckles,” Yoongi laughed.

“Freckles! Cute!” Jimin grinned, “You should go in the sun!”

“No, I’m not cute,” Yoongi said quickly, shaking a hand emphatically.

“Wahhh, hyung is such a liar,” Jimin exclaimed.

“There is nothing about me that is cute, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi defended, racking his brain for an instance of him being cute, and finding exactly zero.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, hyung, but when you’re flustered, and your chest goes pink, shit—” Jimin laughed, leaning his head back against the window as they turned a corner, observing Yoongi, who was deeply struggling with being referred to as cute.

“Shit like that doesn’t count, I mean when I’m conscious of it, I’m not cute then,” Yoongi reasoned.

“Maybe,” Jimin shrugged, “I kind of like that though, I like that you’re never cute except when it’s just you and I.”

“How do you know I’m not like that with people besides you?” Yoongi asked.

“What like Kiyoung?” Jimin asked raising an eyebrow.

“Kiyoung is straight.”

“You have a thing for him,” Jimin countered.

Yoongi paused, he didn’t have a thing for Kiyoung, no way in hell, but was Jimin jealous of him?

“You’re imagining things,” Yoongi grunted.

“Am I? You seemed far too happy to get your shirt off for him.”

“There is exactly nothing between me and Kiyoung, I can promise you that very easily.”

“Good,” Jimin nodded, his wide eyes fixed on Yoongi.

“Why is that good, are you saying I…I’m…your person?” Yoongi asked sarcastically, looking across at Jimin with a simpering expression, like an actress in a melodrama.

“Yes, from today you’re mine, if you don’t like it, then don’t come to my house tonight,” Jimin countered.

Yoongi shook his head.

“In case you’re really wondering, I’m not seeing anyone else right now,” he said more seriously. “You?”

“I only just moved here, you’re the first guy I’ve met,” Jimin shrugged.

“Really?” Yoongi asked.

“The other night when I met you was the first time I’d gone out. I don’t really know anyone at work; definitely not anyone like us anyway. So I just looked up clubs on the green site and went to the first one that popped up,” he smiled.

“And I was there being a nasty cunt, ahhh, good memories.”

“We’re nearly there,” Jimin said suddenly, looking out the window past the drivers head.

“You live in a really nice neighbourhood, how much do you earn at your office job?” Yoongi asked, sitting up to look around, spotting ‘Daechi,’ written in the name of one of the shops they were passing, figuring that that was where they were. Daechi-dong was pricey.

“Not that much, but my family has money,” Jimin shrugged.

“That makes sense,” Yoongi said with distaste, looking Jimin up and down. As a rule he didn’t like people who came from money. He and his mother had never had any while he was growing up. He had gotten his first job when he had been twelve, but had already been stealing food and clothes for them for many years before that.

Jimin gave Yoongi a sideways look but didn’t bite the bait.

“Just here,” he said to the driver, pointing to a very clean looking apartment block on the right.

The taxi pulled over, and after he’d checked to make sure he wasn’t going to get cleaned up by a passing car Yoongi got out and came around to the sidewalk.

“Welcome,” Jimin said as he typed in the security code and got them let into the very nice building.

“Wahhh,” Yoongi said looking around, they were in a proper lobby, with trendy grey carpet. The nightman bowed to Jimin as they passed, and out of habit Yoongi bowed back, looking around as they approached the gilded elevator. “Isn’t this too much?” He asked as they got in.

“My father wanted me to be comfortable,” Jimin said, leaning back against the wall, still watching Yoongi as he peered around the elevator, every wall was sparkling mirrors that reflected them at all angles.

The elevator stopped at the sixth floor, and Jimin directed him to apartment 28, swiping a card to let them in.

“Jimin-ah, this is too much,” Yoongi said as he stepped in, kicking his shoes off.

“These are for guests,” Jimin said quickly, pulling a new pair of house slippers out of a cubby. Yoongi slipped them on, exploring a little deeper into the incredible apartment.

Everything was so clean and new. One whole wall in the lounge was windows that looked out across Seoul, he could even see Namsan tower.

“Do you want to eat?” Jimin asked, “I don’t have much.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Yoongi said, looking over his shoulder at Jimin, “Exactly how rich are your parents?”

“Fairly,” Jimin shrugged. “Do you want to drink something, I have tea and coffee or water…or pear juice?”

“Coffee?” Yoongi asked, tearing himself away from the window to come and sit himself on the other side of the counter from Jimin, watching him prepare coffee for them.

“Sugar?” Jimin asked.

“Three” Yoongi said, taking the cup that was passed to him, after the sugar had been dumped in it. “You’re very clean, huh?”

“I like thing’s to be neat.”

“You must have had a complete melt down walking into my house,” Yoongi laughed, having a sip of what was very clearly expensive coffee.

“I did, you are correct,” Jimin said with wide eyes.

“I’ll try and clean a little if you come over again,” Yoongi allowed.

“Hyung, just come to my place,” Jimin urged, “Your house will never be clean enough.”

“I’ll clean it! I like my house.”

“Just come here,” Jimin begged, “Look,” he urged, walking around the counter and down the hall. He pushed open the door at the end, and Yoongi was shown into an impeccably kept bedroom.

It housed a very large bed with incredibly fluffy looking sheets, complete with throw pillows. “Try it…but put down your coffee,” Jimin said worriedly, taking it carefully from Yoongi’s knobbly hands.

Yoongi pushed himself up onto the bed, sinking into it immediately, “Whoa,” he groaned, laying back. This sure beat his very old very flat bed roll.

“Pretty amazing, right?” Jimin said, raising an eyebrow.

“Pretty fucking amazing yeah,” Yoongi groaned, stretching himself out, flopping back, spreading himself across the mattress.

“I know. This is what I’m trying to say, you could have this!” Jimin laughed, putting the cup down carefully on his white night stand, before kicking his slippers off and climbing easily on top of Yoongi, straddling his hips, “you like?”

“I definitely like,” Yoongi agreed, looking up at Jimin who was sitting very comfortably on top of him.

“Mmm, I like it too,” Jimin smiled, leaning down to capture both of Yoongi’s wrists, sliding them up so he could pin them down on either side of his head.

“I haven’t finished my coffee,” Yoongi said sarcastically, his heart racing.

“Do you want to?” Jimin asked.

“You went to a lot of trouble to make it,” Yoongi pointed out.

“Fine, drink it then,” Jimin nodded, pushing himself backwards in one fluid motion. He picked up the cup and handed it back to Yoongi, “If you spill it on my sheets, I will make you bleed,” he warned.

Yoongi sat up, feeling like for a second time that evening, he was being laughed at.

“Is the heater on in here?” He asked lamely, feeling the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, but knowing it had nothing to do with the warm air being blown out of the vents.

“Take your jacket off…here,” Jimin said, holding out a hand for Taehyung’s bomber jacket.

Yoongi slipped it off carefully, being wary of the hot coffee in his hand, and passed it to Jimin.

As he did so, the knife that he had buried in the pocket tumbled out and clattered to the floor.

“Oh?” Jimin said, bending to pick it up, “A switchblade?” He asked raising an eyebrow, “Are you going to murder me?”

Yoongi laughed, feeling his neck start to redden, “It’s for protection, I had to go through some shady areas to get to Gangnam tonight, I’ve been mugged before,” he lied, hoping that it would stick.

Jimin nodded and opened the blade, looking down at it, “It’s nice,” he said appreciatively, turning it over in his hands.

“Is it, it was cheap,” Yoongi shrugged.

“It looks like it would do some damage,” Jimin nodded, taking a step closer to Yoongi.

Yoongi watched with wide eyes as Jimin’s hand, very slowly brought the knife up to his throat, pressing the cold metal against his skin.

“Wow, fuck,” Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling once more, “this is a massive power trip.”

“I can imagine,” Yoongi said quietly, resting his coffee cup on his leg since his hand was suddenly shaking slightly.

“How do you feel?” Jimin asked curiously, bending down a little, bringing their faces closer together.

“Strange,” Yoongi admitted, “I don’t know if I feel scared…maybe a little bit.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Jimin promised, “How could I?”

“Very easily I think,” Yoongi chuckled, very aware of the blade against his throat.

“Hmm,” Jimin hummed to himself, “I think I like using my hand better.”

He stood up, snapping the knife shut again with ease, putting it down on the night stand. “I can’t believe you sat so still and let me do that,” Jimin laughed, suddenly very bright and cheerful again.

“What was I going to do?” Yoongi asked, having a shaky mouthful of his coffee.

“I don’t know, I’m still just a little curious about why you have it in the first place,” Jimin pressed.

“I told you, self defence.”

“I get the feeling you’re lying. I get the feeling that there’s a lot you’re not sharing with me, hyung,” Jimin said raising his eyebrows.

“Why would I do that?” Yoongi asked uncomfortably, not used to people pressing the topic this much. Most of their friends knew that Yoongi, Hyunah and Hoseok were not just ‘freelance IT experts,’ it was a very obvious lie, but since no one wanted to be implicated, they just didn’t ask.

“Because you have things that you’re hiding,” Jimin pointed out.

“Not me.”

“It’s okay, I kind of like it,” Jimin chuckled, leaning against his wardrobe, watching Yoongi gulp down his coffee.

“Why would you like that?” Yoongi asked after he had swallowed another large mouthful.

“I like the mystery, it’s nice, not knowing what it is you actually do, or what you’re really like,” Jimin pointed out.

Yoongi supposed he understood that, he thought maybe it was one of the things that had drawn him so strongly to Jimin. He was such a contradiction, on the surface he seemed so soft and delicate, but he was anything but. And sometimes he would get a look, Yoongi had seen it a few times now, something dark and a little sinister.

He didn’t know what it was, and it scared him a little bit, but it intrigued him more.

Yoongi nodded, having the last mouthful.

“Finished?” Jimin asked.

“Yep.”

The cup was once again taken from his hand and set down on the nightstand.

Jimin turned on the lamp that said beside the cup, and flicked off the room light.

It was a lot darker now, and the lights of the city filtered in through the blinds.

“Are you nervous?” Jimin asked, taking his coat off, folding it neatly and setting it down on the chair in the corner.

“Yes,” Yoongi admitted, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

Jimin looked over at him from the corner of the room, “Have you really?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yoongi asked, cocking his head.

“I don’t know, I’ve just never heard that before.”

Yoongi shrugged, he had been doing a lot of talking, about things that made him uncomfortable, like his job, and how he was feeling; it was almost more overwhelming than the prospect of the sex he was about to have.

“Stand up,” Jimin said as he came back over to the bed.

Yoongi did as he was told, tilting his head up as Jimin took off the cap that had been glued to his scalp all night. He ran a self conscious hand through his buzzed hair, scrubbing it a little so that it wasn’t so flat.

“I didn’t get to undress you last time,” Jimin mumbled as he leant down to press his mouth to Yoongi’s neck, running his lips over the sensitive skin. Yoongi managed to grumble a response, but couldn’t find anything really constructive to say, and focused instead on wrapping his arms around Jimin, pulling him closer.

Jimin’s hands yanked up the long shirt, digging underneath it. He ran his cold fingers from Yoongi’s back around to his stomach, and pushed up to his chest, pulling the shirt with it. Until he was able to lift it over Yoongi’s head, leaving him bare chested.

“Careful of the tattoo,” Yoongi mumbled as Jimin ducked down, pressing kisses across his chest.

“I will, I will,” Jimin assured him, “I’m not really interested in your underarm,” he smiled as he sank to his knee’s and flicked open Yoongi’s jeans. “Sit down,” he muttered as he tugged Yoongi’s pants down his thighs and off.

Yoongi slumped down onto the mattress, already feeling a little dizzy.

He didn’t know what it was about Jimin that was so different to every other guy he’d been with. It was just like, every time they touched Yoongi felt like his skin was on fire, his chest was instantly red and blotchy, he felt breathless and hot.

He hadn’t gotten to experience this last time, but as he lay there and Jimin’s hot mouth drew in the length of his cock, he really hoped that his drunken blow job had been good, because Jimin’s was mind blowing.

“Jimin-ah,” he said finally, grabbing Jimin’s shoulder, “Stop, stop,” he begged, pulling himself up the bed slightly.

“Why?” Jimin asked with a slight frown. God he looked good, Yoongi was losing his mind. Jimin’s cheeks were flushed, his hair falling in his eyes, his lips swollen.

“Just…come here,” Yoongi urged, tugging Jimin’s arm, pulling him onto the bed with him. “Why do I always end up being the only one naked,” he asked breathlessly, moving his sensitive body carefully as he fumbled with the buttons on Jimin’s shirt. “Get it off,” he urged.

Jimin laughed quietly, attacking the buttons with his own unsteady hands, finally between the two of them, they managed to get Jimin equally as naked.

Yoongi pulled him into his arms, pressing their mouths together, groaning Jimin’s name quietly as their legs tangled.

Jimin pulled Yoongi on top of him, breaking their lips apart so that he could look up at him properly, running an appreciative hand down his chest. He was just as breathless as Yoongi, his hands acting without his permission, grabbing Yoongi pulling him closer as they rolled together.

All thought of being careful of Yoongi’s tattoo very quickly evaporated. Yoongi didn’t even think of it again after he had mentioned it the first time, focused completely on what was passing between the two of them.

It was completely different than the first time had been.

It seemed like it never ended, hours passed, or maybe even days, Yoongi had no idea. It got to a point where he was so overwhelmed by everything that was happening, the sheer vastness that Jimin had become in his mind after so many hours of focusing on nothing but him.

He couldn’t remember how they had gotten there, or anything they had spoken about, all he knew was that he had never experienced anything like this, and at one point it was all he could do to hold onto Jimin while unheeded tears ran down across his temples and into his hair.

They ended up laying tangled in Jimin’s very soft sheets, Jimin keeping Yoongi close to his chest, Yoongi’s face pressed into his neck as he tried to control his breathing.

“Yoongi,” Jimin murmured, pulling him closer, as close as he could be.

Yoongi nodded, but couldn’t speak.

It was okay however, because it seemed like Jimin didn’t actually have anything to say after all, he had just wanted to say Yoongi’s name.

He carefully lifted Yoongi’s face resting their foreheads together. He kissed him gently, their lips swollen and tender.

“Are you tired?” He asked after a while of running his fingers up and down Yoongi’s cheek.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi mumbled huskily. He was going to have fresh bruises on his throat, definitely, though he felt like his body wasn’t in as bad a condition as it had been last time. And the throat thing was probably more on him than it was on Jimin, because every time Jimin had let go, Yoongi had found himself pulling Jimin’s hand back up.

“Me either,” Jimin nodded, running a hand down the length of Yoongi’s back, cupping his ass gently.

“What time is it?” Yoongi asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Can you reach your phone?”

He winced slightly as Jimin shifted beneath him, his free arm stretching to the night stand, pulling his phone back with him.

“Sorry,” Jimin apologised, making sure Yoongi was comfortable again before he checked his phone. “It’s nearly five,” he mumbled, putting it back down beside them.

“Five? Fuck. What time did we get here?”

“Midnight maybe?”

Yoongi groaned, closing his eyes, no wonder everything had become such a blur towards the end, five incredibly intense hours had passed since they had started.

“I need to sleep,” he decided, “You don’t want me to wash first?”

“No, you smell fine this time,” Jimin laughed.

“I showered before I met you today,” Yoongi admitted.

“I could tell, you smelled so good when we were in the taxi earlier,” Jimin muttered, closing his eyes.

“You always smell fucking amazing,” Yoongi grumbled, “So fucking good,” he could feel the blackness beginning to creep in on his peripheries, he was a few minutes from total black out.

“With just the barest minimum of personal hygiene, you could too,” Jimin said in a soft voice, watching Yoongi’s eyes droop.

“I’ll try,” Yoongi managed before he completely passed out.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

 JIMIN

 

When Jimin woke up, Yoongi was still dead to the world, his mouth open, making small snuffled noises with each breath.

Jimin carefully brought a hand up to Yoongi’s face, lightly brushing his knuckles against the other man’s cheek.

Jimin shook his head, this was too much.

Very slowly he got out of his bed and quietly opened his wardrobe, picking out clothes for the day, being sure not to wake Yoongi.

Finally he found himself in his bathroom, the door locked behind him. He bent over the basin, his fingers gripping the sides, what the hell had happened last night.

He looked up at himself through his fringe, his tanned face looked almost pale.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

He could still see it so clearly in his mind, his arms around Yoongi, kissing him desperately as Yoongi cried; so overwhelmed.

He felt something, something deep in his chest, like an ache.

Shaking his head Jimin ran the shower, climbing in leaning heavily against the wall, trying to push thoughts of Yoongi out of his mind, but it was impossible.

The last time he had seen Yoongi he hadn’t felt like this? The last time he had felt, a little impressed perhaps; that Yoongi had experienced Jimin at a complete loss of control, and had been able to keep up.

But he had also been completely repulsed by Yoongi’s whole life.

As he leant against the cold porcelain he realised that he didn’t feel that way now.

Yoongi was still disgusting of course, but when you took him out of the trash dump he called an apartment, and made him wash, he was like a different person.

Jimin closed his eyes, pressing his forehead as hard against the tiles as he could, he needed to fight off thoughts like this.

But this was really very worrying, if he was feeling like this right now, after two nights with the guy, how the fuck was he going to withstand months, and end up in the right place to—

Jimin let out a shaky breath.

He couldn’t forget why he was here.

Find the target, become invaluable to him, get the money, and eliminate him.

Jimin gulped, it was fine, everything was fine, this was just a momentary issue, just because things had been a little intense last night; a little too intimate.

He could reel it back, in the next few days, get them back on a good level, and keep it at that level until he got the money. Then he shouldn’t have any problem doing the job.

Methodically he washed his hair and body, the hot water soaking the aches out of his muscles.

He got out of the shower and dried himself, peering at himself in the mirror. He looked more like himself now, his hair pushed back from his face, made darker by the water.

This was who he needed to be, he couldn’t forget what he was doing here.

Nodding to himself he dressed and blow dried his hair, turning on his hair curler so he could once again set it into the style that he thought Yoongi’s ‘Jimin’ would favour.

He patted a little cream into his face, making his skin look a little brighter since he felt incredible sallow and worn out.

He walked back out into his silent apartment, and listened closely, he could still hear Yoongi snoring quietly from his bedroom.

Good.

He worked very quickly, taking Yoongi’s phone from the bag he had left on Jimin’s counter.

He had had opportunities to clone it multiple times now and failed every single one.

This time however he had the space and the time to do it properly.

He carefully opened a draw, pulling out the dock, attaching it too his computer. He sat the phone face down on it after unlocking it.

Jimin had managed to catch the password on the night that they had walked back from the bar in Itaewon. Yoongi had passed his phone to Taehyung and told Taehyung that he already knew the password.

Taehyung, who had been incredibly drunk, had mouthed the password to himself, and Jimin had read his lips.

1818, Jimin shook his head, Yoongi had apparently thought it would be hilarious to set his password should to ‘fuckfuck.’

He logged into his computer and filtered his way quickly through the authentication, and opened up the scanner.

He selected clone and waited, now he just had to let them pair, and then he would have access to everything that Yoongi was doing, all his contacts, all his movements. That was assuming of course that Yoongi used the one phone for all his business.

He seemed like he would; Yoongi would be so sure that he had made his phone impenetrable that he wouldn’t even think about using burners.

The green tick wound its way onto his screen after he’d been watching the circle for a while. Nodding to himself, he locked Yoongi’s phone again and returned it to his bag, making sure it was exactly where he had left it.

Jimin went back over to the computer, looking through all the data he had collected, with a huff he realised that there were still things on Yoongi’s phone that he hadn’t been able to access.

The program he was using was one they had bought off of a man that was supposed to be one of the best hackers in the East, but it hadn’t been able to dig through all Yoongi’s encryption.

That didn’t matter so much, he could see his messages and phone calls, they weren’t being as protected as his emails and documents, it was a start at least.

He shut the program down and slid the dock back into it’s draw.

Deciding to do something nice for Yoongi, Jimin slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way down to the street.

There was an incredible bakery just around the corner from his building, that sold the most exquisite and delicate pastries and sweets.

Jimin shuddered at the thought of all that sugar, but he knew it was something that Yoongi would like.

He stood in front of the display his eyes raking across the cream rolls and soft chocolate filled breads.

He picked five or six things, which were all placed in a very neat box for him, tied up with a ribbon, and set carefully on the counter.

He ordered Yoongi a good coffee, and a tea for himself, sipping it as he walked back to his apartment, imagining Yoongi waking up to the smell of coffee—Jimin could slip in beside him, scrape his nails down the man’s chest, bring him shivering back into consciousness.

As he stepped back into the lobby, he realised that he had all but zoned out for the whole journey back.

He had walked all the way from the bakery, and he didn’t remember it, he didn’t feel like he’d even been in his body. He stood in the elevator looking down at his own feet, trying to figure out what was happening.

He had never really had to detach himself from his work before, maybe that was it.

The people he was used to dealing with were mostly other criminals, people you wouldn’t think twice about erasing from the face of the earth.

He had never had to get close to a target before, and none of his targets had ever been like Yoongi.

Jimin really needed to snap out of it. He wished he could just call his brother and tell him that he was actually not going to be able to complete the job. But he had a feeling that his future within the organisation was resting on this job. And he owed his brother this level of loyalty, he didn’t owe Yoongi anything.

Again, unwarranted, he found himself remembering the way Yoongi clung to him, how his name sounded coming out of Yoongi’s mouth, the desperate look in his eyes as he had pulled Jimin tighter.

Shaking his head he stepped out of the elevator, carrying his bakery bounty back to his apartment, ducking to let the reader catch his retina.

He put the box down, dropping his wallet and key card in the bowl on the counter designated for just such objects.

It was nearly midday, surely it was fine to wake Yoongi up now.

Jimin carried the drinks down the hall, pushing the door to his darkened room open with his foot. He set them down on the nightstand, next to Yoongi’s empty mug.

Yoongi was still asleep, laying on his side, the blanket only half covering him.

After a moments hesitation, Jimin slipped in beside him, wrapping an arm around Yoongi’s back, “Wake up,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Yoongi’s forehead, “Wake up,” he said again, doing the same to Yoongi’s cheek, “Yoongi-yah, wake up.”

Yoongi’s eyes fluttered open and he breathed in hard through his nose, opening his mouth to yawn loudly. He stretched his arms up over his head groaning as his bones cracked, before settling them around Jimin’s neck.

“Morning,” he mumbled, “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly noon,” Jimin informed him, nuzzling his face against Yoongi’s collarbone.

“Wahhh, your bed,” Yoongi grunted, rubbing Jimin’s back absentmindedly.

“It’s good right?” Jimin asked, not wanting to look up and meet Yoongi’s eyes, happier to stay where he was, with his face buried against his warm neck.

“Mm,” Yoongi muttered, “Have you been out? You’re cold?”

“I have, I went and got breakfast for us,” Jimin said, trying to sound like he was proud of his achievement.

“You got me breakfast?” Yoongi asked, his tone very heavily implying to Jimin’s well trained ears, that no one had ever went and bought Yoongi breakfast before.

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded, “Are you hungry?”

“I am,” Yoongi nodded, “But there’s something else I want first,” Jimin felt Yoongi’s steady hands push him onto his back.

“What are you doing?” He asked with a smile.

“I wanted to thank you for last night, but now you’ve bought me food?” Yoongi laughed, pushing Jimin’s sweater up so he could press messy kisses across his stomach.

Jimin closed his eyes, of course this was happening now. Yoongi was ridiculous, he was supposed to be a hardened thug, how could someone like that be so good, so easy?

He tried to keep himself steady, tried to remember where he was and what he was actually doing there, but just like last night, it was impossible.

He had laced his fingers with Yoongi’s and kept talking to him, his words tumbling out unheeded, telling him how good it was, how Yoongi made him feel crazy. Spewing absolute shit that he hadn’t even meant to say, and left him questioning where the hell it had come from.

The more he spoke however, the more Yoongi responded, his incredibly messy blow job becoming even more enthusiastic; the more dizzy Jimin became.

Jimin dug his strong fingers into Yoongi’s scalp, keeping him down as he thrust, his thighs tensing, desperate meaningly words falling off his tongue as he came, pushing through his climax, down Yoongi’s willing throat.

“I’m going to have to shower again,” Jimin sighed as he sat up finally, looking down to where Yoongi was grinning lazily up at him, his lips swollen and puffy.

“I need to as well,” Yoongi soothed him, “I have to take care of this,” Yoongi gestured to the ridiculous tattoo he had gotten the previous night.

The love heart that Jimin had picked for him, which he had now tattooed on his body.

“Food first?” Jimin asked, pulling his pants back on.

“Fuck yes,” Yoongi nodded, rolling lazily off the bed, digging around for his jeans.

“Wait, wait,” Jimin said, pulling open his wardrobe, “Here.”

He threw Yoongi a nice pair of sweats, they were a little too big, but once Yoongi had pulled the strings tight they were fine.

Jimin also took special care to locate the most comfortable sweater that had been provided for him. It was made out of pure cashmere, and it sat easily on Yoongi’s boney form.

Yoongi looked very content, sat at the low table in the lounge, curled up on himself, one leg pulled up, his chin leaning on it as he sipped his coffee, his puffy sleepy eyes hidden behind his glasses.

He quickly wolfed his way through the pastries that Jimin had provided, smiling over at Jimin occasionally.

Jimin however, was lost in his mind.

He wasn’t going to be able to do this, it was a delusion.

Jimin was an incredibly practical person, and he liked to think that he knew himself well enough to know when he was already at the edge.

He was going to have to work out something else, he could go through with it, all the way to the last step.

But he didn’t think he was actually going to be able to…to kill Yoongi.

No, it was beyond thinking about, the very notion made him go pale, his stomach turning.

He comforted himself quickly having a mouthful of tea, he wouldn’t have to do it, he would be able to work out a way to get around this.

He could probably just take the money, tell Yoongi he had to hide, and let him disappear, surely Yoongi would be able to wipe himself off the map.

Jimin could tell Jiyong that the job was done, and no one would be any the wiser.

Who was Min Yoongi anyway, nobody!

His only value to them was in his role as Park Jiseok, after that role was fulfilled, Yoongi could just go back to being a low level crim, and Jimin could finally take what was his.

They talked quietly about Jimin’s fake job, and touched on his basically fictional family. Jimin still spoke as if his mother and father were around, when in fact his mother was living in London, and his father had died in ’98. The only family he had now was his four brothers and his sister.

“Are you religious?” Jimin asked curiously, having another mouthful of his tea and a small bite of the least sickly sweet pastry.

Yoongi hummed for a moment, gathering his thoughts, Jimin registered a strange look on Yoongi’s face as he worked out what he was going to say.

“I guess so,” he said finally, “You?”

Jimin was very curious at this point, “My family are all devout Christian, but I don’t know if I really am,” Jimin shrugged, that much was completely true, though it wasn’t as though his family were anywhere near pious, he thought it was more about the prestige than anything else. “What about you?” he pressed.

“Well…I guess I’m a Muist,” Yoongi grunted.

“A Muist?” Jimin exclaimed, a little too loudly.

Besides seeing occasional rights being held in Busan, he didn’t know that he had ever met anyone who professed to being a muist.

“It’s more by association,” Yoongi shrugged, “My Eomma is a Mudang.”

“Wait, really?!” Jimin exclaimed, putting his cup down, leaning on the table to show Yoongi that he was very interested.

“Mmm, she’s a hereditary Mudang, my Halmeoni was as well.”

“What about you?” Jimin asked.

“Oh, not me, I’m a man,” Yoongi shrugged, popping another large bite of cake in his mouth.

“Men can be Mudangs though right?” Jimin asked, he really didn’t know that much about Muism, the urge to get his laptop and start researching was very strong. He didn’t like having gaps in his knowledge, it annoyed him constantly that there was only a finite amount of information that he could keep in his mind at one time. It was ridiculous that information he subconsciously thought to be superfluous would be filtered out! What if he needed it later, what if he already knew that men couldn’t be Mudangs? But because he hadn’t consulted that particular piece of information in a few years, his mind had simply let it go?

“They can I guess, but it’s rare,” Yoongi shrugged.

“So what does she do, I really don’t know a lot about Mudangs,” Jimin admitted, though it pained him to do so.

“Lot’s of things… it sounds weird when I say it, but she’s not a fraud,” Yoongi said sharply.

Jimin nodded, seeing how serious Yoongi was about it. Once it seemed that Yoongi was satisfied that Jimin wasn’t going to laugh at him, he continued.

“She can speak with spirits, so she can help people who have lost someone, give them closure and all that. She can also help the spirits, get them to move on—she travels a bit and performs Gut right’s in the countryside for villagers,” Yoongi explained.

“So do you believe in, what is it…three gods?” Jimin asked.

“Sort of, it’s more like three personifications of the one god, Hanuellim. Hwanin who was the ruler of the heavens, his son Hwanung who came to live on earth, and then his son, Dangung. But there are others—” Yoongi said, beginning to run through the list easily, Jimin assumed he had heard it so many times that it was second nature to him. He was sure that if he asked him, Yoongi could probably explain the whole theology.

“And you believe that?” Jimin asked, working hard to keep scepticism out of his voice, he really didn’t believe in god.

“Ahh, it’s hard to explain,” Yoongi sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose with his knuckle, a gesture that Jimin found infinitely endearing.

“I’m listening,” Jimin smiled, breaking off another sliver of pastry.

“The thing is; I know my Eomma isn’t a fraud, so thats the first issue. The second is, I’m not a mudang—and this is going to sound fucked, so just bare with me. I’m not a Mudang, but I think whatever my Eomma has, I have a little of it as well, and because of things I’ve experienced, I can’t doubt that it’s real. And if a Mudang’s power is real, and their power is given by the gods, then that means that deities and shit…they must be real,” Yoongi said with a pained look on his face.

“What do you mean you have ‘a little of what your Eomma has?’” Jimin pressed, feeling himself frown.

“It’s nothing huge,” Yoongi said hurriedly, waving his hand, clearly worried that Jimin was going to think he was clinically insane. Jimin however, knew what true insanity looked like, and Yoongi was not it. “Some times I get feelings about things, hunches I guess, when I was a kid, I always knew how to keep myself out of trouble, even though I was doing really dumb shit. I knew exactly when to do it to make sure I didn’t get caught.”

“What sort of dumb shit?”

“Just like, stealing shit, picking pockets, stuff like that. I said we had no money right?” Yoongi asked with a embarrassed smile.
Jimin nodded, “So you get hunches…”

“Yeah, I guess. My Eomma said it was the spirits looking out for me, that they had told her that they would,” he shrugged, looking sort of like he didn’t believe it himself.

“Have you ever seen them? The spirits?”

“Yeah, I have,” Yoongi nodded.

“Wait, what?” Jimin said quickly, he hadn’t expected that response, he had expected Yoongi to say that he hadn’t, but that his mother had assured him that it was true.

“I see ghosts and shit a bit, actually,” Yoongi laughed, rubbing his puffy face.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, my Eomma can talk to them, but I never have, they’re just sort of there sometimes. Fuck, I’ve never told anyone this, only Hoseok,” Yoongi said suddenly, looking worried.

“Hey! It’s fine,” Jimin assured him, “I’ve never seen a ghost.”

When he had been much younger, six or seven, they had moved to a new house, and that had been a little frightening, but he hadn’t really had much opportunity to be a child. So childish things, like seeing ghosts, had quickly been put aside.

“You get used to it. Fuck, I must sound completely insane,” Yoongi groaned, dropping his forehead onto his knee.

“You don’t,” Jimin said shaking his head, “What do they look like?”

“Ghosts?” Yoongi asked, lifting his head again.

Jimin nodded, having another small sip of his almost cold tea.

Yoongi grimaced, “I guess, like you’d expect, a little freaky, but they don’t usually do much.”

“Have you seen any recently?” Jimin asked curiously, pushing the rest of his pastry across the table to Yoongi, who popped it gratefully into his mouth, waiting until he’d swallowed to answer.

“Not in a while, probably a month or so. I had to move some boxes into a freezer and there was a girl in there, she was just sort of standing in a corner, and she tried to speak to me, but I couldn’t hear her,” he said with an uncomfortable little laugh.

“Do you tell Hoseok about this stuff, do you go home and be like, ‘Oh Hoseok-ah, I saw another ghost today,’”

“Fuck no, I’ll only tell him if it comes up, he gets freaked out by it, especially if I saw one somewhere he has to go as well. We were both working at the place with the freezer, so I kept my mouth shut about it,” Yoongi chuckled, looking down at the now sadly empty table.

“Should we have a shower?” Jimin asked, finishing off the last of his tea.

Yoongi nodded, climbing carefully up from the floor. Jimin was around the table in an instant, one arm hooked around Yoongi’s back.

“You don’t have to help me, I’m not a fucking invalid,” Yoongi grumbled.

“I’m not helping you because I think you’re an invalid,” Jimin laughed, letting his hand drop to cup Yoongi’s almost non-existent ass.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket once they were in the bathroom, and hooked it up to his bluetooth speaker, putting on some quiet music.

“Fucking pop,” Yoongi muttered, tugging off his shirt.

“Hyung,” Jimin grinned, swiping into his camera, “pose.”

Yoongi looked up at him shaking his head as Jimin snapped photos, “Come on, you look hot,” Jimin assured him.

Finally Yoongi leant forward a little, pouting slightly, one hand running down his chest.

“Nice,” Jimin grinned, “show me the back.”

Yoongi coughed out a laugh, but obediently turned, inching the sweats down his hips, looking over his shoulder. “Incredible!” Jimin cooed, turning the camera this way and that, moving steadily closer to Yoongi.

He pressed himself up against Yoongi’s back, bringing the phone around so that it was both of their faces. He pressed his lips to Yoongi’s cheek and took a few photos.

“Kiss me,” he said in Yoongi’s ear, Yoongi turning his head quickly to capture Yoongi’s lips with his.

Jimin quickly let his phone drop to his side, tucking it back into his pocket as Yoongi pushed his pants down, tugging his shirt over his head.

Jimin watched Yoongi’s eyes rake over his chest and knew that Yoongi must like the way he looked.

He didn’t find that entirely strange, he was aware that he was attractive, people never failed to make fun of how pretty he was. Even Yoongi had brought it up as a negative at first.

He didn’t think that Yoongi thought it was a negative anymore, he had noticed the way that Yoongi reacted every time they touched.

“Let me run the shower,” Jimin laughed, capturing Yoongi’s wandering hands, holding them against his chest.

“Fuck, fine,” Yoongi nodded, pouting slight as he stepped back a little to let Jimin get past him.

 

 

 

 

However, as Jimin leant into the shower, turning the water on, he felt Yoongi’s hands on his hips, pulling him back against him.

Jimin closed his eyes, holding onto the glass of the shower as Yoongi scattered kisses across his shoulders.

“We’re not gonna get clean like this,” Jimin pointed out as Yoongi’s hands pressed against his stomach, pulling him back a little more firmly.

“We will eventually,” Yoongi mumbled, letting his fingers drift down across Jimin’s pelvis.

Jimin let out a quiet groan, tipping his head back against Yoongi’s shoulder.

“When did you get so commanding,” he asked.

“I’m verse,” Yoongi joked, biting the soft skin of Jimin’s neck gently making Jimin laugh.

This was an interesting situation that he was being put in.

Jimin did not like relinquishing control to people, there was a reason that he was the way he was.

“I’m not,” Jimin said suddenly, turning in Yoongi’s arms, reaching around his waist, lifting him bodily into the shower, pushing him against the tiles, “We’re going to wash,” he said finally.

There was no way he could let Yoongi get that close, no way in hell, that would be a complete and utter failure, he couldn’t trust this guy. He was there to con him for god’s sake, there was no way that he could put that level of faith in Yoongi, no way he could be that open with him.

Again, memories of the previous night burst into his mind in high definition.

The way he had cried out, his face pressed against Yoongi’s chest, holding onto his wrists as tight as he could. It was like his brain was providing him with the evidence that he had already crossed that line.

But he disregarded it; there was a difference.

It seemed Yoongi was completely unaware of the internal struggle that Jimin was experiencing, and was very much at his leisure, enjoying Jimin’s lips, mouthing at the fresh marks on his throat.

Jimin pulled back to look at him, he liked seeing the marks he had created far too much. He felt some sort of sense of ownership over the man in front of him. But with ownership came the destructive urge to protect what was his, and that was something he couldn’t afford.

“Here,” he mumbled, lifting Yoongi’s arm to carefully remove the protective wrap off Yoongi’s skin. “I can’t believe you got ‘I love Tangsuyuk,’ tattooed on your body,” he sighed, shaking his head. Why was this man so stupid and reckless, if he had been more careful, Jimin wouldn’t be here now!

“I love tangsuyuk,” Yoongi shrugged, wincing as Jimin’s careful hands washed the fresh tattoo.

“I have some disinfectant to put on it,” he assured Yoongi, who did not seem at all worried about the risk of infection, and Jimin wondered if Yoongi actually had any disinfectant.

“This is a nice shower,” Yoongi commented, looking as impressed with the shower as he had been the windows and the bed. One would think the man had never been in a normal house before, the shower was incredibly average by Jimin’s standards.

The one he had at home had no walls, and the water came down directly from the ceiling. He didn’t like the enclosing glass, and even though it was a double shower, it didn’t feel big enough.

“It’s just clean,” Jimin pointed out, “Your shower could be like this as well.”

“No it fucking couldn’t!” Yoongi said emphatically, “That shower was like that before we moved in, we bugged the ahjumma who owns the building about it for like a week before we gave up. None of us care that much. But this is definitely nice.”

Their mutual washing eventually lead to less cleanly activities, that required further washing afterwards, and by the time they got out of the shower, both a little shaky, Jimin’s fingers had gotten wrinkled from the water.

He couldn’t stop looking at Yoongi, he looked so good, his chest pink, his eyes bright.

Jimin grabbed his phone out of his pants, insisting on taking another photo, allowing Yoongi to grab a towel to cover his modesty.

It took them far too long to get dressed again, Yoongi kept stopping him from putting his shirt on, pulling their mouths together until Jimin had to physically hold him against the basin as he yanked his sweater over his head. Yoongi chuckled as Jimin fixed his hair, leaning cockily against the wall, watching him in the mirror.

“Why is this funny?” Jimin asked.

“I thought your hair was curly naturally?” Yoongi asked.

“Nope, I make it go like this,” Jimin said shaking the curls out a little. “Just because you don’t put any effort into your hair!” Jimin exclaimed, nodding his head along to the song that was playing.

“I don’t need to, I keep it simple,” Yoongi said, scrubbing a tattooed hand through his buzzed hair. “It’s getting a little long though, I’ll need to do it again soon.”

Jimin scrutinised Yoongi’s reflection, he didn’t think hiss hair looked long, it was possibly a little more than five centimetres on the top, and barely fuzz on the sides and back.

“I dread to think what it looks like when you cut it,” Jimin sighed, putting the curling wand down.

“It looks like I’m bald,” Yoongi grinned.

“No, no, come on!” Jimin said, turning to face him, “Just leave it like this, I like having at least a little hair!”

“I don’t cut my hair just to please whoever I’m fucking,” Yoongi said, his lip curling up making his face far more unattractive than it actually was.

“You should,” Jimin said raising an eyebrow.

“Oh? Will you reward me for doing what you want?” Yoongi asked, grinning, showing his gums.

“Hmm, maybe, what do you want?” Jimin asked, he had a lot of money to spend, he could probably spend some of it on Yoongi.

“Oh fuck, really? Are you gonna be my sugar daddy?” Yoongi laughed shaking his head.

“I could just be a dongsaeng who throws you around in bed, and then buys you nice things,” Jimin suggested.

“Mmm, I like that,” Yoongi nodded, coming forward to kiss Jimin again now that his hair was done.

“You’d really let me buy you things, hyung?” Jimin asked.

“I’m not that proud,” Yoongi chuckled, tugging on Jimin’s lower lip.

“Are you not, I don’t believe it!”

“You’re wrong, I wish people bought me shit more often, I just end up buying things for everyone else. That’s one benefit of having older friends—but I don’t see them enough,” Yoongi complained, “and since I live with Taehyung and Hoseok I pay for every fucking thing.”

“Ahhh, you’re a good hyung,” Jimin soothed.

“I’m not,” Yoongi said shaking his head, “I should do more for them, Taehyung especially.”

Yoongi pulled away from him, pulling the sleeves of the shirt down over his hands, his face taking on that pensive look he sometimes got, especially when he was talking about Taehyung.

“From what I’ve heard you do a good job,” Jimin commented as they walked back out into the steam free lounge room, Yoongi carefully lowering himself back down onto the floor.

“Ahh, thanks,” Yoongi responded, sounding like he just wanted the conversation to end, so Jimin let it drop.

They ended up ordering more food, and putting on a moody Hong Kong noir film that Yoongi had suggested.

Jimin didn’t hate it in the end, but sitting between Yoongi’s legs, leaning back against his chest, was a little distracting.

He kept finding himself zoning out and just enjoying what was happening. Then suddenly it would go to far, and he would zone out again, and end up feeling like he wasn’t in his body, living his real life.

This was someone else’s life, something simple and easy, but nothing like his life.

He would then complete the cycle by remembering what he was actually doing here and how much pressure was on him, and it would begin again.

Time passed far too easily with Yoongi, they watched a few movies, moving from old martial arts films, to a modern horror film which Jimin had hated. Yoongi then logged onto some online game he liked and showed Jimin how to play it, and they sat world building for a while, talking about nothing in particular.

It got dark without either of them noticing, and Jimin suggested that he would cook something.

They threw on coats and hurried out into the cold, going to the mart down the street.

Yoongi seemed more than happy to just let Jimin cook anything he wanted, so Jimin decided he would make yukgaejang, and Yoongi offered to buy pork belly and fry it for them.

It was strange, seeing Yoongi like that; first looking very ordinary and sleepy under the fluorescent lights of the mart, his head mostly hidden under his cap and facemask, but Jimin could still tell when he was smiling, his eyes disappearing.

And then in his kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, cutting up the strips of pork belly, wincing as oil splattered on his pale forearms.

His temporary apartment was suddenly filled with delicious smells, quiet music and the sound of Yoongi talking easily about his opinions on the university system. It seemed that once Yoongi was comfortable, he was more than happy to talk. Some of his tough guy image fell away and his whole demeanour changed.

Jimin could still see it, the hardened edge to the man that was cutting pork over his frying pan. Occasionally, the way he phrased things, or the way his face shifted, was too harsh, to abrasive for the conversation. He clammed up at any sign of disagreement or confrontation.

Jimin could tell that he was used to talking to people who would respond only to strength and would search out any weakness to exploit.

Jimin knew what that was like and it was very easy to speak with Yoongi, it was like they spoke the same language, and the more they spoke the easier it became.

“Pork belly is done,” Yoongi said, scooping the last of it onto paper towel to take out the fat.

“Yukgaejang is…hmm, five minutes yet?” Jimin guessed, “Here, taste,” he offered, dipping the spoon in to the simmering pot, blowing on it lightly before holding it out to Yoongi.

He slurped shamelessly as he tasted it, swishing it around his mouth before groaning loudly. You could always count on Yoongi to have good reactions to food, Jimin was beginning to suspect that it really didn’t even have to be good food. Yoongi would taste anything and fall over backwards in fits of ecstasy.

“Fuck—that’s incredible!” He exclaimed, letting a hand rest on Jimin’s waist.

“I’m a good cook,” Jimin smiled. It was true, he had been cooking for himself since he was young. He had been left alone quite often, and had quickly gotten sick of eating tteokbokki from the vendor across the street.

“I’ll eat it well,” Yoongi grunted, squeezing Jimin’s hip before he went to check the rice.

They set up the table in the lounge with rice, pork belly, kimchi and the pot of soup.

“Do you have anything to drink?” Yoongi asked, looking over the couch to Jimin who was wiping down the counters in the kitchen.

Jimin hummed, pausing in his methodical wipe down. “I actually think there is wine.”

He remembered spotting a wine cabinet, which he thought had possibly escaped his cleanse of the fridge’s contents on the day he had arrived.

Trying to look like he knew where he was going he walked around the counter and bent down beside the hall table. Sure enough there were a few bottles.

“Ta-da!” He grinned, lifting a bottle out, “I don’t know what it is, it was a gift, I forgot I even had it.”

“I’ll drink it for you,” Yoongi assured him as Jimin found him a wine glass, bringing them both to the table. “Finish cleaning after we eat!” Yoongi begged as Jimin went back to the kitchen to continue his progress.

“I’ll feel too uncomfortable if I don’t get this done now,” he said, wiping a little more quickly, piling dishes into the washer.

“You’re not normal,” Yoongi groaned, lying back on the floor, disappearing behind the low table.

“I just like things to be clean, then I can relax,” Jimin called down to Yoongi who grunted in response.

He finished cleaning and grabbed himself a bottle of water before he came to sit down on the other side of the table. Yoongi pulled himself back up, wincing a little as he moved.

“You okay?” Jimin asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Yoongi chuckled, “I’m just a little tender.”

Jimin had to fight back a smile, Yoongi didn’t seem unhappy about how tender he was, and Jimin liked knowing that it was because of him.

“I’ll eat well,” Yoongi said, picking up his chopsticks.

“I’ll eat well,” Jimin agreed.

It was hard not to sit in total silence for the first few minutes of eating with Yoongi. He was so intent on getting as much into his mouth as possible that there was no way Jimin could get a word in edgeways.

Now that Jimin had pieced together a little more about Yoongi’s life, the way he ate was beginning to make more sense. From what he could infer, there had been a time, perhaps a very long time, when Yoongi had not known when he was going to eat again. And out of habit, it seemed Yoongi ate every meal as though he hadn’t eaten in days.

After Yoongi seemed to be suitably full, he started talking again, and Jimin nodded along, listening to him ramble in his gravely voice about his friends and how he had met each of them. It seemed like Yoongi had known Hoseok for a very long time.

Jimin was fairly sure at this point that Yoongi, Hoseok, and Hyunah were all in the business together. He wasn’t so definite about Taehyung, it seemed like Yoongi would try to keep him out of trouble, rather than letting him get into more.

He caught Yoongi a few times, realising that he had probably said too much about what it was he and his ‘friends,’ did.

It was sort of cute in a way, Yoongi would catch himself and pause, Jimin would then ask him about what he was going to say, and Yoongi would immediately grunt something slightly offensive, like ‘why do you fucking care so much.’ Jimin would then laugh, but not push him for more information, it was easier just to leave Yoongi to let it out bit by bit.

They got back onto music, which Jimin was beginning to realise, was something Yoongi was actually secretly passionate about.

He went to a surprising amount of underground gigs, and liked to talk about all the under appreciated musicians he listened to. Jimin had never really had time for music, he liked pop mostly because he listened to the radio a lot, when he was working or travelling.

But Yoongi really loved music, and told him about what he considered to be the best music venues in Seoul, most of them seeming to fall around Itaewon, which Yoongi was also quite passionate about.

He mentioned many times that Itaewon was the best area of Seoul, expounding it’s many benefits, including but not limited to; delicious foreign food, incredible clubs, an open minded atmosphere, wasn’t pretentious, not too many hipsters.

Jimin added in bits and pieces here and there; though he couldn’t really participate in discussion about he minutiae of Seouls districts, he tried to convince Yoongi to come down to Busan a few more times.

“Honestly, it’s two hours on the KTX,” Jimin exclaimed.

“Do you remember the movie we just watched? Do you really think I’m gonna get on that train?” Yoongi laughed, his cheeks now red from the wine he had drunk and the hot soup he had inhaled.

“It’s worth it! I can’t believe you’ve never been, the aquarium is great, the beach is great, there are so many good places to eat.”

“Jeju Island,” Yoongi said simply, shaking his head.

“You’re too much,” Jimin sighed, running a hand through his hair, leaning back against the couch.

Before they knew it, it was pushing midnight, and they were still sitting on the floor, the dinner plates now cleaned and in the quietly running dishwasher.

“Hyung, do you want to stay again?” Jimin asked as Yoongi scrolled through his music, choosing a song to play, now nearly through a whole bottle of wine.

He looked up through his sparse lashes, letting out a quiet laugh.

“I was wondering if you were gonna ask,” he grinned.

“Well do you?” Jimin snapped.

“Yeah, of course,” Yoongi nodded, looking back down at the phone.

Jimin closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch.

All of this was so foreign, he had never been a part of anything like this before. His encounters with both men and women had consisted of one night’s, no names, and usually people getting frightened by how intense he was.

There hadn’t been time to do any of this last night, they had gotten to his apartment and essentially gone straight to his bedroom, too amped up and nervous to sit around and just talk.

Jimin ended up telling far more lies than he had initially meant to. He had thought that it would be so simple, he could just talk about his own life, but leave out the darker elements. However, he quickly realised it wouldn’t be that easy at all.

So much of his life was the work, all his stories involved his brothers or his sister, or some tight situation they had gotten into. Times he had been left to work by himself and had ended up pitted against a whole group of self important thugs who had underestimated him; which seemed to happen a lot.

And since Yoongi was telling so many stories, even though Jimin could tell that they had also been edited for his hearing; he felt burdened to match Yoongi story for story.

He cursed himself, how was he going to keep all this straight, every new story he made up was a story he couldn’t forget other wise Yoongi would catch him out.

They were laying on the floor next to the window listening to Yoongi’s music, and to stop himself telling more ridiculous lies Jimin decided to role on top of Yoongi, lifting Yoongi’s hands gently to press them into the rug beside his head.

Yoongi’s face shifted imperceptibly, his mouth falling open slightly.

Jimin felt intoxicated, just looking at the effect that he had on the man below him.

The whole night had been one big lesson for Jimin.

They ended up in bed much later, and all Jimin could think was that he was the complete wrong person to be chosen for this job.

An introverted sociopath who had been starved of love and attention for his whole life, had been pushed into a scenario where he was supposed to make someone trust him implicitly, and the way to do that was through becoming unspeakably intimate with them.

Why had he not realised at the outset that this had been an absolutely crazy stupid plan.

He had learned something about himself, so that was nice at least, it was however, less good for the job he was supposed to be doing.

Which he had now decided that he was not going to see through to the end.

He’d get the money, sure, but he wasn’t going to hurt Yoongi, barring further complications of course, like if for example Yoongi was to betray him, or hurt him, then sure maybe. But as things stood in that moment, on that day—

The Yoongi that was laying spread out across the bed next to him, one hand resting lightly on Jimin’s arm?

No way, there was no way he could go through with it.

At around two the next day Yoongi left, they kissed at the door for far too long, Jimin kept wanting to pull him back, Yoongi’s hands never quite letting go of their grip on his sweater, even when they were supposed to be breaking apart.

But eventually, he did go, and Jimin was left in his empty apartment, which now smelled inexplicably like Yoongi.

He let out a huge breath, one that he hadn’t even been aware that he was holding and went over to his desk, taking his work phone out of the drawer, turning it on.

He sent his brother a text, saying that he had an update.

After another few deep breaths and a nice hot cup of herbal tea the phone rang.

Jimin put down his cup slowly and picked it up.

“Hyungnim,” he said in a level voice.

“You have an update?”

“I’ve cloned his phone, so I should have more information about his movements and contacts within the next few days. And I believe I have made myself…invaluable, as you asked.”

“Good, there is another complication however,” Jiyong replied, and Jimin pursed his lips, of course there was. “We’ve just gotten word that the cops have noticed the hacker as well, so watch your back,” Jiyong said cooly.

“Of course, hyungnim,” Jimin nodded.

“Text me again when there’s updates, Sunhwa wants to meet you for lunch, she’ll message you soon.”

The line went dead and Jimin turned the phone off and dropped it back in the drawer.

The cops were onto Yoongi? He was going to have to figure out a way to keep them off the guy while the oblivious Yoongi fumbled his way to the money, and hopefully didn’t get killed in the process.

What had Jimin gotten himself into.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

JUNHYUNG

 

Junhyung groaned, rolling over, battling against his tangled sheets, trying to reach his phone.

He managed to glimpse the time as he pulled it to his ear.

“It’s 4am, there better be a good fucking reason for this,” he grunted, scrubbing angrily at his face.

“Yes sir, we need you to come down to the precinct,” said the tinny voice on the other end of the line. He could tell by the tone that it was Minsung, the young officer that had been very recently assigned to Junhyung’s unit.

“Fine,” Junhyung grunted, hanging up without further ado.

His head throbbing angrily, he sat up, looking down at his knee’s.

Fuck, he had heart burn, he felt sick, he shouldn’t have drunk the beer, he shouldn’t have eaten the ramen, he shouldn’t have only had two hours sleep and forgotten to take his blood pressure meds. But he had in fact done all of those things, and now he was paying for it.

Like a zombie, he dragged himself into his shower, scrubbing himself roughly.

He pulled on the same clothes he had worn the day before, slinging his ID around his neck as he walked out the door, letting it slam behind him.

He was still half asleep as he drove through Seoul, the streets were relatively deserted, the early morning rush still yet to begin. He made it to the precinct in record time, turning into the underground carpark, and heading mechanically for his designated car space.

He bowed wearily to the officer on duty at the desk, using his ID to get past the barriers.

The lights in the elevator were too bright, and Junhyung leant against the wall with his eyes shut, as he rode it up to the eighth floor.

The front desk was still empty, that was how fucking early it was.

There was nothing happening at the moment, everything on the organised crime and narcotics front had been fairly quiet recently. Which had been slightly worrying, but Junhyung had put it down to his recent promotion to Inspector and the new head of the unit, he was so good at his job that he had gotten rid of organised crime in Seoul.

The automatic doors slid open for him as he pressed his card against the reader.

“Sir,” Minsung called, coming over quickly with a fresh cup of coffee and a file, “Meeting room three,” he said, directing Junhyung down the hall.

Junhyung didn’t bother answering, brushing him past him and across the empty office, the fluorescent lights glaring down at him.

He pushed the door to meeting room three opened and found three members of his team already assembled looking over what seemed to be some very old files.

“Sir,” Hyunmi said, looking up from the file she was looking over. “What’s happening?” Junhyung asked, taking his ID off as he sat down, putting it beside his coffee.

“Ahhh, this is interesting,” Ilsung said, leaning over the table. “This got brought to us a few hours ago, apparently it’s bounced around a few departments because no one know’s what to do with it.”

“Okay, tell me what’s going on.”

“Yes sir, the Park group, in Busan—the Geom-eun Yong,” Ilsung began, Junhyung nodding to signal that he didn’t need to reminded about the activities of the Park group.

Quietly he murmured, “Park Jiyong,” to himself. The black dragon in question, one of the most notorious drug lords in the country.

“Ages ago,” Ilsung continued, “nearly thirty years ago, there was a huge case. We had an agent who was working in the organisation, but he went a little off the rails and ended up embezzling something ridiculous like 80 billion won from them. They found out and it ended in a really nasty  triple murder, back in ’97,”

Junhyung nodded, wanting Ilsung to get to the crux of the issue.

“Well, the agent, Park Jaekwang, had an infant son, who disappeared at the same time as all this happened. And we always assumed that he had probably gone the same way as his parents.

But, a few days ago, that kid, Park Jiseok, suddenly started existing again.”

“What?” Junhyung said, leaning forward.

“Exactly, his citizen identification suddenly started being tapped, he’s opened bank accounts, we have no idea what’s going on, however, Hyunmi-ssi has a theory,” Ilsung said, looking across the table at Hyunmi, who had been listening quietly.

“I think it’s the Busan Park clan,” she shrugged, “I think that they’re trying to get their money back and they finally got their hands on the software to forge the identity of this kid and they’re going to use it to get into the bank,” she suggested.

“I like that as an idea,” Junhyung nodded. “So the Geom-eun Yong are involved, why aren’t Busan handling this?” He asked.

“Because we’ve got taps on the accounts that were opened, and all the usage is happening in Seoul,” Ilsung explained, pushing some files over to Junhyung.

Junhyung ran his eyes down the list of usages, lots of stuff in Itaewon, innocuous bullshit, food and travel, nothing suspicious.

“What if this is just some kid who suddenly realised he’s the lost child of a murdered detective and started living his life?” He asked.

“Is that likely? If the Busan Park’s are involved?” Hyunmi asked.

“It was a nice thought,” Junhyung shrugged.

“All right, we’re gonna say this is connected to our ongoing investigation in the operations of the Park organisation up here, and let Busan know that we’ll keep them informed and if anything moves down south, we’ll let them know.”

“Yes sir,” Ilsung nodded, pushing himself up from the table to go and write the email. He looked about as tired as Junhyung felt, his tie askew, a five o’clock shadow appearing on his chin.

“Have we been passed this cos we don’t have much else to do at the moment?” Junhyung asked wearily.

Hyunmi nodded, “Big crime didn’t want it, homicide didn’t want it, fraud didn’t want it, so we got it.”

“Fuck,” Junhyung sighed, rubbing his eyes, “I’m so fucking tired Hyunmi-yah,” he mumbled.

“Do you want to go and get coffee?” She asked.

“I’ve got one?”

“No from the coffee shop, or a fast food place,” she prompted.

He looked around with his tired eyes, but there was no one to hear them.

“Mmm, kaja,” he decided, standing up again, pulling his jacket and ID back on.

The street was below freezing as they walked away from the precinct. Junhyung didn’t understand how Hyunmi was wearing a thin pant suit and heels and walking around comfortably at five in the morning.

“So what are we gonna do about this kid?” Junhyung asked as they waited for the light to change.

“I think we try and find out who he actually is first, which might take some time. Even though we can figure out how the account is being used, we can’t actually pinpoint the device. I’ll get cyber onto it once they’re in tomorrow, but from what I heard whoever it is, they’re keeping themselves pretty well hidden.”

“We really shouldn’t be eating this shit,” Junhyung grumbled as they walked into the warm and well lit fast food shop, placing their orders on the interactive counters in the middle of the restaurant. Even as he spoke the words he ordered himself a burger and large fries, along with a triple shot espresso.

“You look like shit,” Hyunmi said shaking her head, “I haven’t seen you in a few days, how have you been, have you been eating well?”

“Yeah,” Junhyung nodded, even though it was a lie.

As they stood waiting for their food, he felt her fingers brush carefully against his and he looked down at her. This was a very stupid thing that they had been doing on and off for a few months now.

Every time they felt like they were getting too close to being caught out they would stop, only to start it up again within a few weeks.

“Everything’s been so quiet recently,” he sighed, “something’s happening, it’s not as though organised crime shuts up shop in the winter, it doesn’t make sense. Do we have any informants we could call in on this?”

“I have a few I can ask, just see if there’s anything stirring Geom-eun Yong wise up in Seoul,” Hyunmi nodded.

“Yeah, do that,” Junhyung agreed, walking forward to collect their order, retreating to a booth at the very back near the bathrooms.

Hyunmi already had her phone out, sending discrete messages to the people she could think of.

“I’ll get back to you,” she mumbled, putting the phone back down, “But I put out some feelers.”

“Good,” Junhyung nodded, unwrapping his very flat and sad looking burger. This was not going to help his heart burn at all, but he needed some quick and disposable carbs to wake him up.

He had been so exhausted with work over the last few months. The department that he had inherited had been a complete and utter mess, the previous head had been so whipped by the prosecutors that nothing had been getting done, and corruption had been at an all time high. There had been barely any members of the team that hadn’t been proved to have taken bribes with just the barest hint of investigation.

He had completely recreated the organised crime devision, a whole new set of people had been promoted, a few that he’d worked with before, which was nice. And once he had gotten that set up they had set out on what he had liked to call a crusade.

The amount of stings and busts they had undertaken in those first few weeks had been completely unheard of.

And in the weeks that followed he had been completely bogged down in legislation, making sure that there wasn’t even a whiff of corruption in his department, as one by one he systematically took down most of the narcotic big wigs in Seoul.

He’d cleaned them out, broken down their networks, left all the ground level dealers and junkies scrambling in his wake.

Which was why he was worried about how quiet all the crims had become, it made him think that they had grown savvy to his methods, and found a way to get around it.

There was no way they would be so quiet if their source of revenue and their next hit, had suddenly dried up.

They really needed a more effective cyber squad, it was a lot harder to police online activity, and if a lot of the trade had moved to digital services there was no way they could keep up with it.

But at least this kid was something he could really sink his teeth into, if this was really the Park’s trying to weasel their way to the money, that was something that needed to stop before it got started.

It wasn’t as thought they didn’t already bring in enough money; the amount of fingers they had in so many different pies.

Junhyung was just at a loss, he had nothing to do, and he’d been looking for a way to get one over on Park fucking Jiyong, the black fucking dragon of Busan, since he’d been a rookie cop.

The Busan Park’s had only been growing since the 2000’s, they had business all over Korea and operating throughout the world. He knew that in the late 90’s there had been a shift in the power structure, the last don had been the head of the family, and after his death, the oldest son had taken over.

Park Jiyong had been much more ambitious than his father had been, he was only a few years older than Junhyung himself, and Junhyung remembered when he was doing his training, hearing endless stories about what was happening in Busan. It was all horrible nasty shit, massive hits on rival gangs, human trafficking had sky rocketed, they suddenly had an influx of heroin and cocaine, it had been rife all through the 00’s, and most of it was thanks to Park Jiyong.

Being in Seoul, he didn’t ever have much of an opportunity to tackle the southern Park clan directly, so even though they had been passed this case because they didn’t have much else on their plate, he was grateful.

Just as long as none of the fucking prosecutors got in his way, he would be more than happy to try and derail anything that Park Jiyong was planing in Seoul.

“I’ve got a contact,” Hyunmi said suddenly, looking up from her phone. “I need to go meet them.”

“Are you gonna be fine to go alone?” Junhyung asked.

“Yes,” she laughed, “are you going to go home tonight do you think?” She asked.

“I should do, but I’ll probably be in the office until five or six.”

“I’ll come over later, I’ll text you before I leave,” she smiled, picking up her bag and her coat. “Cook something for me.”

“You’re asking a lot,” he called after her, looking back down at his cold fries, trying to build up the energy to keep eating them.

In the ended he dumped them in the bin and stopped at the convenience store on his way back to the precinct, grabbing a six pack of the mythical Bacchus D, with enough concentrated energy to get him through his shift, carrying them lamely back up the 8th floor.

He spent the rest of his day going over files on the ’97 case, it had been their agent Park Jaekwang, his wife Kim Hyebin, and a friend of theirs, a man who had no known contact with the mob; a civillian named Lee Jihyan.

The kid, Park Jiseok, was supposedly in the house at the time that the murders had occurred, according to a nosy neighbour who had seen them all go in at about three that afternoon; but he had completely disappeared.

He had been a missing person since 1997, but no-one had even really considered that he was still alive.

Junhyung was of the opinion that he wasn’t; he was fairly sure that that kid had died in 1997, as sad as that was, he was fairly sure that what was happening now was just good old fashioned identity theft.

Once he finished reading up on everything that he needed for the new investigation he sat and fielded emails for a good few hours, his head buzzing with bureaucracy by the time he finally logged out of his computer.

He made his rounds of the department, preferring a hands on approach, rather than sending reminder memo’s all afternoon. He also found that people were more likely to work hard if you were actively monitoring them.

He had a few meetings after three, the last one running over by nearly an hour, the whole board room was weary by the end. All of them surreptitiously checking their watches, looking at their coffee cups, wishing there was more coffee still waiting within.

By the time he was able to finish up with that meeting, go back to his office, finish off the full lodge of the investigation statement and proceedings, it was nearly seven o’clock.

He sent off the email with it’s associated attached documents and shut down the computer. Feeling dead on his feet as he carried his mugs to the staff kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher, grabbing an energy bar from the box that was provided for them occasionally.

He chewed the cardboard like, fake chocolate coated supplement as he rode the elevator back down to the basement parking. Giving the desk officer another tired bow on his way out.

The drive back across Seoul was a lot less easy than it had been this morning, the traffic still incredibly heavy at seven thirty. He sat, leaning his head back against the headrest, trying not to let his eyes closed as they crawled along at a snails pace.

He thought about turning the radio on, but then thought it would probably just annoy him more than anything, and decided to leave it off, resigned to his fate of boredom and fatigue.

Finally he got to his building, dragging himself into the elevator.

By the time he reached his floor, he had ostensibly forgotten that Hyunmi had said she was coming over. So when he found her waiting, arms crossed outside his apartment, his first thought was that something must have happened.

It only took a second though, he paused to look at her questioningly, and then promptly remembered the conversation they had had at five o’clock that morning.

He grunted a greeting at her as he shoved the keys into the lock, letting them in.

The old fashioned automatic lights in clicked on to greet him. He knew that at in the early 2000’s they had been cutting edge, but they were more annoying than anything now, their novelty entirely worn off.

“Drink?” He asked over his shoulder as the lights followed him through the apartment to his kitchen.

“Yes, please,” she agreed, pulling off her complicated high heeled boots to slide into the soft slippers she always wore when she came over.

He pulled out a bottle of wine for her and beer for himself.

“What are you cooking for me?” She asked, sitting down at the counter.

“I’m not, we can order, but I’m so fucking tired,” he sighed, popping the lid off the bar and having a very large and refreshing mouthful. “Tell me about today,” he prompted.

“One of my informants,” Hyunmi began, accepting the large glass of one, having a sip. “Said that she hadn’t heard much, but there had been chatter about the Geom-eun Yong being in Seoul.

Another one I spoke to said that they were definitely operating in Seoul, but that no one knew what they were actually doing. There’s no new product around, no one’s getting targeted, the word is just that they’re here.”

“Well that looks good for our theory about the stolen identity,” Junhyung pointed out.

“There’s one thing that’s bothering me though,” Hyunmi huffed, frowning. “Why would they come to Seoul? Park Jiseok was from Busan, so why wouldn’t you set up his identity in Busan?”

Junhyung’s brows pulled down, that was a big hole in the hypothesis.

“Do we know where the money is being held?” He asked.

“No,” she said shaking her head.

“Well maybe it’s being held in Seoul and that’s why they came up here?”

“Still doesn’t make sense, they’re trying to set up a believable identity, one that’s going to seamlessly pass as Park Jiseok, Jiseok was from Busan. The only reason that they would set it up in Seoul was if Busan wasn’t an option. There’s too much that we don’t know about.”

“Noona,” Junhyung groaned, “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

She looked down at her wine, “Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow. I don’t know the next time I’ll be able to come over like this, by the way.”

“What, why?” Junhyung asked quickly.

“Yongsun is being transferred to the Seoul office, so he’s not going to be out of the country so much any more.”

Junhyung let out a sigh, picking his beer up again.

Kang Yongsun; Hyunmi’s husband, another factor that made their relationship incredibly risky.

“Let’s order food,” he said after a minute.

He could tell that Hyunmi was awkward, she didn’t fight him over what he wanted to order, and sat quietly, steadily drinking her way through the bottle.

“I’ll leave him one day,” she said quietly after a few minutes, “Just not now, my Eomma wouldn’t be able to deal with it.”

“I know,” Junhyung shrugged, “it’s okay, really.”

Even though he had asked if they could wait to speak about work, they ended up talking about their theories as they ate, going over everything they remembered about the Busan Park clan.

Junhyung also aired his suspicions that the drug trade in Seoul had somehow moved to another platform. They weren’t getting anything of the street, which just didn’t make sense.

“You’re thinking online?” Hyunmi asked.

“I am.”

“We really need a more competent cyber department.”

“Know anyone you’d like to recommend?” Junhyung asked, having a bite of pizza.

“I’ll think about it,” she nodded, finishing her slice and having the last mouthful of wine. “I’m gonna have a shower,” she said, pushing herself to her feet, “Clean this up and I’ll meet you in bed.”

“Okay, noona,” Junhyung smiled, leaning back against his couch.

He listened to the shower turn on and wondered if he should go and join her.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, he really needed to shave, his skin was rough and prickly.

With a grimace he pulled out his phone, it wasn’t incredibly late, but he was completely dead.

He pulled up his emails, making sure there was nothing important he needed to see too immediately. The next stop was his messages, he had one from the director approving the investigation and asking for a briefing the next day. He sent off a quick confirmation, moving down to the last message he had gotten from his useless brother.

He hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week, his brother had a tendency to get involved in things he really shouldn’t and Junhyung felt a certain amount of pressure to watch out for him. In fact he felt a lot of pressure.

‘have you eaten?’ He sent, identical to the last message he had sent, which had gone unread, hopefully this time he would get a response, but he wasn’t counting on it.

He put his phone down and pushed himself to his feet, wearily tidying up their take away dinner.

He walked through to the bathroom, pulling off his shirt as he went.

Getting in the shower with Hyunmi was the best thing that had happened to him all day, being able to fold himself around her, pressing his face into her sweet smelling hair was heaven.

“I thought I told you to meet me in bed,” she mumbled, pulling his arms a little more tightly around her.

“I need to shave,” he grunted, rubbing his chin against her shoulder to demonstrate, “So I thought I’d join.”

“I’ll allow it,” she decided, leaning back against him.

He shaved, and she fucked around with creams tying her hair up on top of her head with a silk scarf.

“It stops you from getting split ends,” she shrugged when he asked her why she didn’t just use a hair tie.

Junhyung shook his head, there were just some things about women that he was never going to be able to understand.

They lay in bed, Hyunmi reading her book while Junhyung scrolled through G-market on his phone, looking for some useless shit to waste his money on.

It was far too easy, Hyunmi nestled against him, the line between her brows prominent as she scanned the words on the page in front of her, he spent as much time looking her as he did looking at the discount electronics.

Finally she put her book down, turning off the lamp on her side of the bed.

“Put your phone away,” she said, pushing him onto his back, throwing one leg over his waist.

Junhyung very happily obliged, but conveniently didn’t turn off the lamp on his side, he didn’t want to miss a second of this.

 

Chapter Text

 

 JIMIN

 

Jimin was losing his mind, he had nothing to do in Seoul! Nothing!

And for reasons beyond his knowledge, he hadn’t heard from Yoongi in weeks! It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to get in contact him. He had sent him a message the day after he had seen him last, but he had gotten no reply.

He had tried again a few days after that, but still nothing.

After that he had let it lie, knowing that if he pushed Yoongi when Yoongi was unavailable, then he was going to come off as too clingy, and lose Yoongi completely. So he kept his messages to himself for a while. But eventually it had been over two weeks since he had last seen Yoongi, and that was just getting a little ridiculous.

Then one day out of nowhere he had gotten a call from a payphone that had turned out to be Yoongi. It was nearly midnight, and he had asked Jimin if he had eaten.

Jimin had said he hadn’t and so Yoongi had told him to come and meet him at a jjigae shop.

So Jimin had taken himself across Seoul, not sure what was waiting for him, and had walked into a very strange interaction with Yoongi.

He had sat and eaten soup with him in the dirty, poorly lit shop, but Yoongi had barely said anything. He was clearly strung out, his hands shook as he ate and his pupils were blown the whole time.

They had barely spoken, they didn’t touch once, when they had finished eating Yoongi had grunted that he was leaving and asked Jimin to pay before he had slung his bag on and left.

After that Jimin had tried to keep the tone of his messages light, sending Yoongi funny things he had seen, or asking him if he had eaten. None of these had resulted in Yoongi asking him to come and eat again, or even replying at all. And by three weeks he eventually sent the dreaded ‘are you avoiding me,’ message.

He didn’t want to come across as that guy who asked ‘what did I do wrong,’ but he really did feel like; what the hell had he done wrong.

That last day with Yoongi at his apartment had been perfect, not a single thing had gone wrong, Yoongi had been obsessed with him, practically begged to stay a second night! So why this radio silence?

Had Yoongi realised how quickly the state of their relationship had progressed, was he freaking out because of the sex? That just didn’t seem right.

But then, this time hadn’t been like the last, the last had involved a lot more alcohol and they had both been out of their minds, and also barely acquainted.

Maybe it was different for Yoongi now that he knew Jimin a little bit more. Jimin could relate to that, he didn’t like people he knew seeing him be vulnerable either, and he had definitely seen

Yoongi vulnerable, he had cried, after all!

Perhaps that was it, perhaps Yoongi was embarrassed and avoiding Jimin because he didn’t like how he had acted in front of him. That would track with their encounter in the jjigae shop, perhaps Yoongi had been testing the waters, seeing how he felt?

It was possible, and Jimin wished that he could have just scaled it back and not been so intense with Yoongi, but Yoongi hadn’t been interested in him when he was pretending not to be. So what was the deal?

Didn’t Yoongi want him to be intense?

And if he did, then why was he ignoring him now?

After a full month had gone by with no word, Jimin was ready to call Jiyong and just go back down to Busan and give it up.

He checked Yoongi’s phone activity every single day, there was nothing going in or out, and he thought, possibly, that the phone had been burned, maybe that was why he had called from the payphone.

To pass time he went through everything he had collected, compiling spread sheets of Yoongi’s contacts and activities.

Yoongi had fingers in a lot of pies by the looks of.

Jimin would have been impressed if he wasn’t so frustrated.

It seemed like every person that Yoongi worked with or for, thought that Yoongi was a novice, new to the game.

But Yoongi, from what he could gather, was running at least fifty different jobs at any given time. They varied from background things like phishing scams, to blackmail and fraud, all the way to drug trafficking.

He was smart though, Jimin could only figure out the sort of stuff he had running because he knew what he was looking for. All of it was hidden in code and subterfuge.

A few times he went over to the laundrette and stood in the alley across the street, watching for a while to see if he could spot anyone coming or going. But the only person he ever saw was

Taehyung, coming home from work.

Once he had Youngsik with him, and Jimin considered jogging across the street and asking Taehyung what the fuck was going on with Yoongi.

But he knew it would be too weird if he did that, he needed to think logically, this job was too important to just charge in completely unprepared.

It would be fine, except he was so bored.

He couldn’t call Jiyong, could not admit that Yoongi had slipped the hook, but what the hell else was he supposed to do.

In the sixth week he started going out to bars in Itaewon, on the off chance that he would run into Yoongi, just as he had the first time.

He kept a close eye on the Jiseok accounts, but they weren’t being used, nothing was being touched.

Jimin really hated being out by himself, he hated everyone at the bars.

A few times he let some random guy take him home.

The clubs he was going to kept getting shadier and shadier as he wore them out one by one. But he equally didn’t like being at the shady clubs, there was too much of a risk for him. Gangsters in dark booths, sipping whiskey, not talking about the fact that they were all there because they liked to fuck men; it wasn’t really a great place to be.

He did like the attention however, it felt nice to have five or six violent thugs all vying to buy him drinks.

He usually let them, leaning quietly against them while he listened to them talk about what was actually happening in Seoul; the things he couldn’t find out because he couldn’t talk to his brother. It was a very easy way to get information and he didn’t have to do anything but keep his mouth shut and pour drinks, pretending to be interested in watching them gamble ridiculous amounts of money on cards.

What he could gather from the chatter was that the new organised crime department was making everyone’s life hell, and that a lot of them had cook shops shut down, and even more still had had dealers and runners pulled off the streets.

He tried to make himself look as pretty as possible, letting his hair fall in his face, hanging all over the man next to him, listening to him complain about the current state of affairs.

“And all these bastards—” he hissed, looking around at the dark and exceptionally smokey bar, which was hardly a bar, more like a basement that sat beneath a kitchen, the smell of cooking pork constantly permeated the very small room.

Everything was lit with dirty and ugly neon lights, they weren’t very effective so the occupants had to move around very slowly to avoid falling over.

The staff was made up entirely of pretty young men who were consistently thrown around by the violent clientele. It really was a disgusting place, but where wasn’t nowadays.

“—these bastards are moving all their business off the streets,” the guy finished, throwing back his shot, slamming the glass down on the table.

“Oh?” Jimin said, sitting up to quickly pour him another one.

He had been working on this guy for a while now, he was several bottles of soju deep and speaking very freely, encouraged by the beautiful man on his arm.

“Online,” he spat, “it’s insulting.”

Jimin nodded, his own thoughts on cyber crime were a little contradictory. On the one hand, he really liked not having to deal with clients face to face, that was nice. But doing things online left a paper trail if you didn’t know what you were doing.

Which was a constant risk when you worked with such stupid people.

“Next Tuesday I fly to Algiers for some business, you should come,” the guy said, and Jimin nodded again. He would not be doing that, that much was certain, but there was no harm in playing along.

He was extremely bored after all.

At the seven week mark, he was losing it.

He was tired, he wasn’t sleeping.

He spent most nights out seeing people that he really shouldn’t be.

It was getting dangerous, if he kept going the way he was, he was going to start jeopardising the job he was here to do. Any one of them could somehow know Yoongi, and then if he ever got

Yoongi back again, if they recognised him…he was probably over thinking it, but in his mind, anything could happen.

It had been so long since he had had a break from work—in fact he had never had a break from work. Jiyong lived with the mantra of; it wasn’t work, it was their life, and you couldn’t take a break from life. So from his early teens he had worked.

And now, twenty six years old, loose in Seoul for the first time, he was finding himself slipping into incredibly unhealthy patterns of behaviour, getting too wild.

So long had passed since he had seen Yoongi that it had started to get warm, spring was officially over and Summer was setting in.

The last time Yoongi had been at his house, he had had the air conditioner set as hot as it went, but the last few days he had actually had to set it on cold.

The cicadas had started screaming as loud as they could every night, and Jimin would get back to his apartment in the wee hours with their noise ringing in his ears.

He woke up sweaty one morning, nearly nine weeks since he had seen Yoongi last. He didn’t bother to make his bed before he got himself into the shower. He felt dried up from all the smoke he had breathed in the night before and stood under the cold water, washing his mouth out with a grimace.

He appraised himself naked in the mirror, his face had gotten more tanned, and he needed to dye his hair again, he had ugly dark roots.

Carelessly he pulled it away from his face, managing to get most of it into a tight topknot. He rubbed some cream onto his very tired face, and shook his head.

It had been two months.

Two months since he had heard from Yoongi, he had had a fine time in Seoul, but he needed to keep working, he was slowly going insane.

He decided that he would allow a week, one more week, that meant nine weeks in full since he had heard anything from Yoongi, that was enough.

As per usual he went to his laptop, and checked his cloning software, but there was still nothing. He closed that out and decided to check the databases quickly to make sure that Yoongi hadn’t been arrested.

But nothing had changed, Min Yoongi still did not exist in the metropolitan police’s database.

He busied himself in the kitchen, calling a salon to book himself a hair appointment for later that day, deciding to make himself a juice for breakfast.

As he was throwing ingredients in the blender his phone buzzed. It was the one he used for work, it had long since stopped living in the drawer, there was no threat of Yoongi spotting it at this rate.

He picked it up and read through the message as his juicer whirred angrily.

It was from Sunhwa.

‘what’s taking so long, Jiyong is not impressed. will be in seoul on 15th, will meet then.’

Great.

Sunhwa had been checking in on him every few weeks and though he always loved seeing his sister, she was also an insufferable cunt that he never wanted to be around for more than a few minutes.

After he had drunk his juice he decided to work out, going downstairs to use the gym in his building.

He went as hard as he could for about an hour and a half, going to sit in the sauna for a while once he’d finished, sweating out all the toxins that he had breathed in the night before.

Was he going to go out tonight?

There wasn’t much else to do, he could text Yoongi again, but what was the point?

He went for a walk in the afternoon, as the sun was starting to drop down, the evening buzzing with the sound of traffic and cicadas.

He directed himself to the salon, timing his walk perfectly so that he arrived at the shop the very second he needed to be there.

It was a very nice salon, where they brought you champagne while they did your hair.

He managed to kill a few hours getting his roots fixed, his hair now one uniform caramel colour.

He paid what he owed her and left.

Night had properly fallen over Seoul by the time he took the short walk back to his apartment. He dawdled along, knowing he had nothing waiting for him at home, he wondered if he should eat something. But he’d been going out so much that he felt like he was letting himself get out of shape.

He really needed to cut for a while and try and drop a few kilos, he felt a lot slower than he knew he should.

He would probably just make another juice, there was watermelon in the fridge and a lot of greens, he also had a bunch of supplements he could dump in there to make himself feel more full.

It was nice walking at night, the air was warm and everyone else was out as well, it was strange to see so many people in short sleeves and summer dresses.

He caught snippets of music and loud voices from bars and restaurants, the cars whipping past him hitting him with a refreshingly cool breeze.

He crossed the lawn to the front of his building, the cicadas droning endlessly in the trees around him.

He jogged up the stairs to his apartment complex, stopping at the keypad.

“Jimin?”

Jimin felt his body immediately react, he turned in one fluid motion, his arms coming up in front of him ready to grab or push whoever had come up behind him.

However, all he found was empty space; his eyes dropped to the source of the noise and found a figure sitting awkwardly against the low wall.

Dark hat, face mask, bomber jacket.

“Yoongi?” He asked quickly.

“Mm,” Yoongi nodded, putting his hands down on the ground beside him, very slowly raising himself to his feet.

Jimin, who had been waiting for Yoongi for eight weeks, stood silently, watching the strange way that Yoongi was moving. “Upstairs?” Yoongi nodded, keeping his face low.

Jimin wasn’t sure what to say, so he turned back to his keypad, quickly typing in the code to open the doors.

“Have you eaten?” He asked as they got into the elevator, but Yoongi didn’t answer, he stood slightly behind Jimin, his head held low, one arm holding the other.

Jimin ran through all the options of what was possibly happening in his mind. He thought maybe Yoongi had figured out who he was and what he was doing in Seoul. Maybe Yoongi had spent the last two months learning everything he could about Park Jimin. Perhaps he had learned who Jimin was, and had very quietly gone and got the money while he wasn’t paying attention. The job might already be done, his fate sealed, and this was Yoongi coming to tell him that he knew everything.

Jimin began to imagine Yoongi pulling a gun on him, or maybe a knife, the same knife Jimin had found in his pocket. Pressing it against his exposed spine and telling him to walk very calmly to his apartment.

But he didn’t, he stayed stood in the same position as the elevator moved slowly upwards, finally stopping at his floor. Jimin didn't remember it having ever taken that long before.

He walked slowly to his door, Yoongi trailing behind him, still completely silent. He ducked in front of the reader, clicking them inside a moment later, flipping on the lights in his now dark apartment.

“Yoongi, what’s going on?” He asked quietly, turning to watch Yoongi walk in, closing the door behind him.

As soon as it latched Jimin saw a complete change come over Yoongi, he threw out one hand to brace himself against the wall, bending in on himself slightly. “Yoongi-ah?” Jimin said softly, taking a half step forward.

Yoongi didn’t say anything, with a shaking hand he pulled off his hat, Jimin noticed that Yoongi’s hair was significantly longer than it had been the last time he saw him, almost touching his ears now.

There was something wrong, as Jimin watched Yoongi carefully remove his mask, he could tell before it had even parted with his cheek that Yoongi was hurt.

Jimin took the extra step he needed to be at Yoongi’s side, looping an arm carefully around his back.

“Bathroom,” he muttered hurriedly, supporting Yoongi through the apartment.

He leant him against the vanity and ducked beneath it to pull out all the medical supplies he had. Jimin liked to be prepared, he also had unlimited access to drugs and items the general population would not be able to get there hands on, so his first aid box was well stocked.

Yoongi had his mask off now and Jimin could see some of what was wrong, though he didn’t believe it was all of it.

He had probably done worse to Yoongi then what he could see on Yoongi’s face; a bruised cheek and a split lip, a lot of blood and dirt, but that wasn’t serious, so what was really wrong?

“Show me,” he ordered. With a growing sense of dread he watched Yoongi slip off his jacket, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor, so that he could work on lifting his shirt.

Jimin’s nostril’s flared, that was a stab wound.

“What…?” He grunted, stepping forward, dropping to his knees, “What?!”

He looked up at Yoongi’s pale face, he looked like he was about a second from blacking out.

Jimin knew a good deal about anatomy, and Yoongi had gotten very lucky.

He had been hit on his right flank, and there were two wounds, an entry and an exit, but he had only just been caught, it had passed right through him.

The main problem Jimin had with this situation, was that it was still bleeding. Even as he was kneeling in front of Yoongi, trying to get a good idea of how bad it was, the blood was trickling down to the waistband of his pants.

“How long ago did this happen?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi grunted, two hands behind him now, keeping himself upright.

“Hour?” He managed, his eyes closed.

“Hey! Open your eyes!” Jimin barked. “Why aren’t you at a hospital?! Fuck!”

“Can’t. Record.”

“Record?!” Jimin grunted, quickly he gathered a handful of gauze and pressed it against Yoongi’s side, ignoring his groan of pain.

He was going to have to lie Yoongi down, there was no way he was going to stay on his feet. “Lounge,” he decided.

Yoongi shook his head, his eyes screwed shut.

“We have to move, you’re going to pass out,” Jimin hissed.

This was not how he had imagined seeing Yoongi again, and he had been put in a hell of a position.

He knew how to stitch this up and see him right, he could do it in his sleep, however, Yoongi’s ‘Jimin’ did not have a working knowledge of anatomy and a history of having to fix up his older brothers.

So what was he supposed to do, lie? Call an ambulance and play at ignorance?

Or did he treat him, and try and find a way to explain it later.

He didn’t know that he could just sit beside Yoongi, knowing he had already been bleeding for an hour and wait for an ambulance.

Though, with that in mind…what if Yoongi needed a transfusion, if he found out his blood type, he could get his hands on some blood, but then how the hell was he going to explain that.

Yoongi was supposed to be a thug, why didn’t he have a surgeon, someone reliable and quiet that he could go to?

“What…?” he whined, as he all but carried Yoongi to his beautiful light grey couch and carefully helped him lie down.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi mumbled, reaching out one blood slicked hand to grab Jimin’s. “Do you have…needle, sutures? Dental floss, anything?”

Jimin nodded, “Yeah, yeah,” he said, trying to sound very flustered.

“Stitch it…I trust you,” Yoongi assured him, biting back on a cry of pain as he shifted on the couch.

“Don’t move,” Jimin begged, “Can’t I call an ambulance, what do you mean records?”

“Just stitch it!” Yoongi barked, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jimin narrowed his eyes, not loving being ordered around by Yoongi of all people. But he supposed, he would allow it for now, Yoongi was under quite a bit of stress.

He raced back to the bathroom, gathering the first aid stuff up in his arms, placing it carefully on the floor beside Yoongi.

He grabbed a bottle of disinfectant, pulling the cap off, being careful not to needlessly spill any on his rug. God, his couch was ruined.

“Here,” he muttered, lifting the blood soaked gauze away from Yoongi’s side, placing it down on the tiles rather than the carpet.

With another fresh piece of gauze he tried his best to clean it, Yoongi trying to hold himself still, clearly wanting to write in agony.

“I have anaesthetic,” Jimin said, “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” Yoongi mumbled.

Jimin nodded and pulled a little vile that had tetracaine written on the label, out of the box.

He quickly grabbed a syringe, unwrapping a fresh needle from pack, fitting them together easily. One hand pressing the disinfectant soaked gauze against the wound, he loaded the syringe with the other.

“Be aware, I’m going to inject now,” he said formally, pulling the gauze away and shooting the nerve dulling solution carefully around the still bleeding wound. “It should work almost instantly, can you feel it?” He asked.

Yoongi was still staring straight at the ceiling, his features screwed up, but slowly Yoongi could see the pain leaving his eyes.

“Yes—helping,” Yoongi nodded after a minute.

“Okay, good, time to stitch. This doesn’t look very deep Yoongi-yah, you’ll be fine,” Jimin assured him.

He had a proper needle and sutures, which made the whole process a lot easier, Yoongi was fairly out of it, so he didn’t really need to pretend that he didn’t know what he was doing. He would just have to remember to mention something about how frightened he was when Yoongi was fully aware again.

“Can you move?” Jimin asked, “I’d like you to wash.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi mumbled.

“I’ll help, come on,” Jimin urged, keen to get the very dirty Yoongi off of his couch.

Together, they managed to get Yoongi on his feet, back in the bathroom, undressed, and sitting on the shower floor.

Jimin washed his hands, taking his shirt off, watching Yoongi in the mirror.

He looked utterly exhausted.

Yoongi had definitely looked strung out the last time Jimin had seen him, but it was nothing compared to this. If he had thought that the man was skinny and sick looking before, he had another thing coming. He could clearly see each of Yoongi’s ribs, straining against the pale skin of his side.

His face was drawn, his eyes were sunken and dull, his lips dry and cracked.

He left Yoongi there, going back to the lounge to clean up, moving all the dirty gauze to the bin, putting the used needles in their cases to be sterilised later.

His couch was stained, fantastic.

When Jimin looked in on his way to his room, Yoongi was still exactly where he had left him.

“You okay, still awake?” He asked, getting a small nod in response, which was good enough.

He gathered together some clothes that he could do without, pulling on a fresh shirt of his own, before going back to the bathroom.

“Come on, let me dress it,” he said, opening the shower door, “Can you stand?” He asked, looking down at Yoongi.

It took a second, but Yoongi slowly shook his head.

With a sigh Jimin pulled his shirt off again, he wasn’t going to ruin a second one.

He reached into the shower and turned the water off.

“Carefully,” he murmured, hooking an arm around Yoongi, “I don’t want them to pull.”

Somehow he managed to get Yoongi dry, dressing the wound neatly, and helping him get into the clothes that Jimin had gotten for him.

“Do you want something for the pain? To sleep?” Jimin asked, supporting Yoongi through the apartment to his room, getting him into the bed.

“Yes,” Yoongi nodded.

Jimin went and found a handful of analgesics and took them back for Yoongi, making him drink the whole glass of water.

“If you’re still not good when you wake up hyung, we’re going to the hospital,” Jimin said sharply.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi mumbled, closing his eyes, keeping himself as still as he could.

Jimin watched him for a minute, he knew the pills would take at least half an hour to work effectively, so either Yoongi was pretending to be asleep, or he had blacked out.

Either way, there wasn’t much that Jimin could do.

He took himself back out to the lounge room and looked around.

After a second he burst into action, beginning a systematic clean of his whole apartment.

It was almost second nature at this point, even though he hadn’t been involved in whatever had happened on Yoongi’s end to get him stabbed, and he hadn’t been the one stabbing Yoongi, he still had the urge to clean everything onsite.

If he was in Busan, he had people to do this for him, a very quiet and dedicated team of cleaners who followed him around mopping up his mess.

But they were not in Busan, so armed with gloves and cloths he wiped down every surface he could reach. He bleached the bathroom top to bottom, stripped the couch and loaded the cases into the washing machine, along with every cloth he had used to clean, and all of Yoongi’s clothes.

When finally everything was clean, all that was left to suggest that Yoongi had come to Jimin’s apartment, was the small pile of belongings that had come out of the pockets of his clothes.

Jimin looked through them, there were a few receipts, a vape unit, his phone, a lollipop, and a blister pack of pills of some kind; they were not properly labeled.

It was a new phone, he tried the 1818 password, but it failed.

So Yoongi was back, but this was not how Jimin had thought it would happen, this was really moving things along, he could definitely use this to his advantage.

If he could play the guilt card, and also the ‘I saved you,’ card, then he could get Yoongi to start talking about his criminal activities. And once Yoongi started talking about them, Jimin could get closer to him, he could start being involved more.

This could possibly be perfect, as long as Yoongi didn’t die.

With a frown Jimin padded back through the hot apartment to his room.

Yoongi was laying exactly where he had left him, his mouth open slightly.

Jimin pulled back the covers on his chest, checking to make sure that it was still rising and falling.

Yes, Yoongi was still alive.

Not sure what else to do with himself, Jimin lay down on top of the covers next to Yoongi and resolved to watch him until he woke up, just to make sure that Yoongi didn’t die.