Chapter Text
[ Mood Board ]
He wasn’t sure why he had let Jungkook drag him along on one of his adrenaline junkie quests. No, that wasn’t true, Jimin thought as he followed the taller young man through the crowded streets. He was bored off his skull and but his energy had been sapped through a bad breakup. Bad for him, he supposed. His partner seemed relieved to be free of the prison he’d apparently put them in.
Jimin watched as his breath escaped him in a little white cloud as they moved through the streets in the cold December air. “How much further is this? If I’m going to die, I’d like to know where I’m going, at least,” he said sulkily.
Jungkook turned around and smiled at him, the little gap between his front teeth barely visible. “Just a little further hyung,” he promised. “And besides, don’t you love snow? There’s so much falling right now.”
An exasperated sigh escaped Jimin. “I like it when it’s not subzero temperatures that hurt my face. Why are we outside when it hurts my face?” He was being extraordinarily sulky today, but he felt he’d earned it; the weeks had been long and unrelenting at his job which initially helped with the heartache but only replaced it with physical and mental exhaustion.
“We’re almost there,” Jungkook said, brushing his longish hair away from his eyes. He had tied his hair into a messy bun, but his uneven locks slipped out of it anyway. “And weren’t you the one that had been hounding me to meet my girlfriend?”
“Yes, but I didn’t realize that meeting this secret girlfriend that may or may not exist meant freezing my ass off,” Jimin muttered, burrowing further into his Balmain long coat. “We’re all convinced she doesn’t exist you know.”
“I know,” Jungkook sighed. “But she does.”
Jimin smirked. “Does she live in Canada, too?”
“She did for a while,” Jungkook admitted. “But she lives here in Seoul now; better work. – this way, hyung.” He reached behind himself and grabbed Jimin’s hand, taking him down a sharp left turn into an off-beaten path through a narrow street. He turned suddenly again, pulling Jimin into what appeared to be an abandoned building.
“Jeon Jungkook if you brought me to some rat infested hall as a joke, I’m going to murder you,” Jimin hissed. “This is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Like spending it on your couch trying to hex your ex with your mind was any more productive. – Come on, down here.” Jimin was no more convinced, but was easily pulled along due to Jungkook’s superior strength. He opened his mouth to complain again, but his voice died in his throat as his clear eyes registered what they had just walked into.
A giant octagonal ring was the centerpiece, with high staggered levels of benches, each and every spot filled. Beautiful women in skimpy gold dresses sauntered through the different levels, selling everything from cigarettes and expensive alcohol to some kind of ticket that Jimin couldn’t immediately identify. He turned and gave Jungkook a wide-eyed stare. “Come on, the first fight’s about to start.”
“Don’t tell me one of these women is your girlfriend,” Jimin said in disbelief. “I mean, no. It’s fine if it is, but this seems wild, even for you.”
Jungkook snorted. “No, she’s not one of these girls,” he said. “Though now that I think about it, she might have started selling tickets…” His eyes suddenly widened and he grabbed Jimin’s hand, pulling him towards a free table. “There!”
A roar from the crowd erupted the second Jimin looked over to the octagonal ring. A young woman about their age had just smashed a larger man’s face in with a well-timed roundhouse kick. A flurry of blows followed, striking the man’s knees, gut, and throat. The last hit sent the man stumbling out of the ring and out of bounds.
Jimin couldn’t believe his eyes. He wondered if he preferred that Jungkook’s girlfriend was one of the sales girls. “You’re not serious,” he said.
“Very,” Jungkook said, grinning. “That’s Simran. I did a couple fights down here and that’s how we met.” He tapped a small bruise on his collarbone. “She gave me this one.” Just as quickly as they sat down, Jungkook was on his feet and he grabbed Jimin’s arm again. “Come on.”
“Where are we going now?”
“To meet her, of course. Her fight’s done!”
Jimin sighed but followed, wondering if the whirlwind was ever going to stop. But he knew that with Jungkook that it never really did, and he did ask for this by agreeing to going out with the younger man. He followed Jungkook through the raucous crowd to the back area, where the bouncers welcomed Jungkook with a set of heavy claps to the shoulders. Jimin gave them a slight wave and quickened his pace to follow Jungkook when they returned his kind gesture with hardened glares.
With distressing familiarity, Jungkook walked through the maze of hallways and corridors, eventually stopping at a side room. He knocked three times and grinned when the voice on the other end gave permission to enter. Jimin wasn’t expecting to find a surprisingly clean changing room, with a young woman in sleek black jeans and a fashionably ripped black long sleeved shirt with a rapper on it and said ‘SUGA’ in stylized font underneath the purposefully glitched out picture. She smiled and gave Jungkook a tight hug.
“You made it,” she said, brushing his wild hair out of his eyes. “I thought you got caught up at work.”
“Nah, I got off on time but I had to drag hyung along with me,” Jungkook replied, jerking his thumb towards Jimin. “He didn’t believe me that you exist.”
Jimin eyed him. “In fairness, ‘I totally have a girlfriend but you can’t meet her because she works at a job I can’t tell you about’ sounds fake as shit.” He bowed politely, however. “I’m Park. Park Jimin.”
With a return bow, Simran nodded. “It’s nice to meet you; I’m Khan Simran. Jungkook talks a lot about you and the others,” she said, smiling. “I was beginning to think you were all made up too; he kept saying he couldn’t get anyone to come.”
“I’m… not surprised, if it’s something like an underground fighting ring,” Jimin said, looking around cautiously. “Namjoon-hyung is going to kill you if he finds out. He just made detective.”
“Oh! You know Namjoon too?” Simran asked, her eyes lighting up.
Jungkook and Jimin turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You call him Namjoon?” Jungkook asked, surprised.
“Wait, why are you surprised?” Jimin asked, turning his attention to Jungkook.
Simran smiled sheepishly as she waved her bandaged hands. “It’s nothing crazy, we were in a few classes together and he told me to call him that.” Her expression changed and she lightly bapped Jungkook on the arm. “Oh, that guy you wanted to check out is here tonight.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. “You serious? V is fighting tonight?” he grinned, excitement coursing through his veins.
“Yeah,” Simran confirmed, equally as excited. “Someone actually got him in a fight. Can you believe it?” She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m glad it’s not me.”
“…what are you two talking about?” Jimin asked, not sure if he wanted to know.
Simran smiled at him; it was difficult to believe that moments ago Jimin saw her kick the teeth out of a giant man. “V is one of the best fighters here. Dude looks like a Disney prince but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone destroy their opponents like he does. He hits hard enough to draw blood every time.”
“People call him the Crimson Fae,” Jungkook added. “He looks like one of those Fae princes you see in fantasy novels. Ugh! I’m so mad. I wanted to fight him.” He flexed his fingers in anticipation. “Stupid day job.”
Jimin shook his head. (Never mind. I can totally see why these two started dating.) “Crimson Fae? Do you two hear yourselves? No way someone calls themselves that.”
“He doesn’t call himself that, everyone else does,” Simran pointed out. “C’mon, I can get us front row seats. Benefits of being a prize fighter.” She winked. “Having two good looking young men with me won’t hurt either.”
“I don’t want to watch another fight,” Jimin whined, but his protest died on deaf ears as both Jungkook and Simran pulled him along to the main fighting floor and to a table that had a prime view of the ring. Jimin grimaced; he could smell the blood from the previous bout. (Is that someone’s teeth?) He thought, horrified.
All his thoughts flew out of his head as the fighters came from their corners and entered the ring. One was a fighter that seemed like he was born to fight in a dingy basement. The other… didn’t seem like he belonged there at all. The other fighter was of medium height and a bit lithe, though it was difficult to see because of his heavy black hoodie. The man’s hair was a little curly and as black as midnight, and Jimin was convinced he saw a sparkling Chanel earring dangling from the man’s left ear.
Jungkook grinned. “That’s him.”
“—What?” Jimin turned to face his friend.
Jungkook inclined his head towards the ethereal, muscular man in the ring. “That’s V.”
“Oh.”
“Chalk up another one for the fan club,” Simran commented, chuckling as she leaned back in her chair. “Better watch carefully, Jimin-ssi; V doesn’t fight very often.”
Jimin felt his vision blur slightly, and wondered if it was the thick air in the stuffy basement, or the surreal experience unfolding around him. He pulled his gaze back off the floor and to the ring, where V pulled his hoodie off and tossed it to the side, revealing a slender build that was well toned with muscles though most of them were covered by a stubborn black muscle tank top (Nike) and grey shorts (also Nike). He shifted from foot to foot in well-worn Air Jordan 1’s, all black and scuffed to hell.
This wasn’t good. V definitely knew his brands and his fashion. Even his athleisure wear was carefully curated and everything on him was there for a reason. He was a stark contrast to the dirt and grime of the underground fighting ring, and the juxtaposition was hitting all of Jimin’s inspiration buttons, spurring his mind to go a mile a minute.
Until V turned and locked gazes with him. Then everything stopped, and Jimin found himself unable to look away. V’s gaze was dark, and difficult to pin down what was going on in those dark eyes. His gaze lingered on Jimin for a long moment before the announcer’s call to start the match snapped him back into focus.
The bell rang, and V’s right arm shot out. A sickening crack resounded through the arena and blood spattered into the crowd. Right onto Jimin’s 5 million won Balmain coat. For a brief moment, Jimin wondered if he imagined V’s startled expression that broke through the mask of intensity. It was gone in an instant, however, and V clenched his fists, going after his opponent with fluid, brutal strikes.
Much to Jimin’s disappointment, the fight was kept on the other side of the octagonal ring, and he wasn’t able to get a better look at V; the taller man was always with his back to him as he pummeled the crap out of his opponent in one of the far corners. Before Jimin could really get out of the haze he found himself in, the fight was over – TKO.
V sucked on his teeth and cracked his neck, his earring jingling softly. His dark eyes scanned the crowd and found Jimin’s. “Sorry,” he mouthed before leaving the ring to raucous cheers, grabbing his hoodie as he made his way to the back area.
Jimin snapped out of his daze as Jungkook shook his shoulder. Roughly. “W-What?!” Jimin demanded.
“Are you all right??” Jungkook asked, eyes wide with concern. “V knocked that dude’s molar right into your lap! Oh man. It’s all over your coat.”
Slowly, Jimin looked down and his brows slightly furrowed, seeing the dark splotches of blood on the dark fabric of his Balmain coat. “Shit.” His head snapped up. “Is that why he apologized?”
Jungkook and Simran shared surprised looks with each other then leaned in to Jimin. “He what?” Simran asked, her voice low.
“When he left … just before he left. He mouthed something to me. I think he said ‘sorry’,” Jimin explained, wondering if he imagined it all.
The pair exchanged another set of looks, before Simran took out her phone as it vibrated. “Ah…Kook, do you think you can get Jimin-ssi home? I gotta grab my winnings. I’ll meet you later?”
Jungkook nodded. “Sure. – come on, Jiminie-hyung; I’ll help you pay for the dry cleaning.”
“There’s no way you can afford the dry cleaning bill on your earnings,” Jimin muttered as he slowly stood. As they walked away, Jimin could hear Simran’s voice faintly in the background.
“Namjoon-ah? I’m getting close. – Yeah, V fought tonight.”
(She really does know Namjoon-hyung,) Jimin thought, a frown creasing his lips. (Why do either of them need to know about V… why do I want to know more about V? Am I that hard up for something new that I’m daydreaming about a damn underground fighter?)
The rest of the night was a wash, as far as Jimin was concerned. Jungkook saw that he got back to his apartment safely, still fussing and apologizing for getting his hyung into this literal mess and he’ll do his best to help with the dry cleaning costs. Jimin had waved him off, repeating that Jungkook couldn’t afford it, but it was fine. He’d needed to get it cleaned anyway.
As he peeled off his coat and flopped down heavily on his couch, Jimin briefly closed his eyes. Immediately, V’s intense gaze from the bright lights of the octagonal ring sprung to the forefront. Was he just imagining things, or did V really keep the fight away from Jimin the entire time after accidentally spraying him with the other fighter’s blood? He was lucky none of it got in his mouth, to be honest, so why was he thinking about the hot guy that he should, under no circumstances, get involved with.
It wasn’t like he was ever going to see V again.
~ * ~
Kim Namjoon was relatively fresh to his post as detective, but he was already on the police chief’s radar for his tenacity, out of the box thinking, and diligence. He was polite, studious, and paid his proper respects to his seniors, except when he was convinced he was right. Then a little brattish streak showed its face and he had to reel it in when he noticed the vein popping out in the Head Detective’s forehead.
His current case was one that Namjoon was excited to sink his teeth into; it had illegal fighting, underground rings, and a mysterious figure at the center of it all. He pushed his glasses up his nose, his eyes laser focused on his laptop’s screen. Simran’s photos had come in through encrypted email, and his program had just finished downloading them to a safe server.
There he was, V: The mysterious fighter that had gripped the underground fighting community by the throat and refused to let go. He only showed up once in a blue moon, but when he did, the effects were felt for months afterwards. It was the most fascinating thing that Namjoon had encountered, and he wanted to find the underlying cause of why V’s name was spoken in the same whispers as the shadowy figures that ran the underground league. Was he the head of it all? The youngest son of a wealthy CEO who knew he’d never sniff the top of the company and decided to risk it all in the grimy underground? The possibilities were endless.
His phone beeped. It was Simran.
<Did they come through okay?>
<Perfect,> He typed back. <How did you manage to get these pictures without him knowing?>
<He was staring at Kook’s friend the entire night.>
Now that was curious. <Jungkook brought a friend?>
<His name is Park Jimin.> There was a pause, then three dots popped up as Simran began typing again. <We should discuss this in person. Jungkook’s starting to ask a lot of questions as to why we’re texting so much. I don’t know how much longer he’s going to believe we’re talking about professional wrestling.>
<I’m sorry,> Namjoon apologized. <Just a bit longer.> He sent another text. <Though John Cena would definitely beat Hiroshi Tanahashi in a match.>
<He wouldn’t, but fine.>
<Thank you, Simran-ssi.>
<You’re welcome. Good luck.>
Namjoon smiled faintly at his phone and set it down, returning to the photographs, wondering if there was any way to get closer to V that didn’t require endangering Simran’s safety. Briefly, he wondered if there was some way to use this strange connection to Jimin, but … no, he couldn’t do that; Jimin was a civilian and he was loathe to even use Simran as a resource and she had specialized training. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
A heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder and he looked up at his good friend and senior on the force, Detective Kim Seokjin. “It’s time to go home, dude,” he said, smiling. “You’re not going to catch V in a night.”
“What about the last 435 nights?” Namjoon asked as he pushed his chair back and stood up, his stiff muscles screaming in protest. “Remind me to get Simran a nice gift. She’s sticking her neck out for this investigation and it’s starting to strain her relationship with Jungkook.”
Jin nodded, chuckling. “Jungkook hasn’t realized that his girlfriend is an undercover detective?”
“Seems not,” Namjoon said as he pulled on his coat. “It’d put him in danger if he knew right now anyway. But you know Jungkook; he’s smart. He’s starting to pick up that we’re talking a lot for casual college acquaintances.”
Jin’s eyes shifted from jovial to being filled with concern. “Does he think she’s cheating on him?”
Namjoon shook his head as they began to head out the door. “No. I’m pretty sure no, but he can easily pick up on people’s emotions, you know that. Simran’s getting closer to V and tense because of it. No doubt Jungkook’s picking up on that.” He rubbed his neck and sighed. “I really should get her something nice.”
“Well… she’s a fan of Yoongi, isn’t she?” He held up his hands as Namjoon levelled him with a sharp glare. “Yeah, I know. You two aren’t really the best of friends right now, but it’s about all you’ve got to work with if you want to make it up to her.” He clapped Namjoon on the back. “Come on, treat your hyung to some drinks. You work too hard and I’m getting wrinkles trying to keep you in check. What would we do if my handsome face was marred by wrinkles?”
“Live, somehow,” Namjoon replied, a smile creasing his lips. “Did you know, though, Jungkook took Jimin with him to the underground fighting ring?”
Jin blinked. “You’re kidding. The kid got that stuffed shirt out of his glass tower and took him to … the literal polar opposite place he’d want to go?” He barked out a laugh, slapping Namjoon on the shoulder. “I should buy him a drink, just for that!” He shook his head. “Hoseok keeps saying Jimin’s working too hard after his breakup, he’s too rigid. Then next thing I hear Jungkook takes him to Bloodsport?”
Namjoon snorted. “It’s not Bloodsport.” He paused. “No, it’s pretty close if Simran’s reports are anything to go by.” He sighed. “Aren’t you more concerned that Jungkook is participating in illegal fights?”
“I’m not thrilled about it,” Jin replied, rolling his eyes. “I really wish he’d focus on something like… advancing in his career and not sticking it out in a dead-end position just so he can dip off and get his rocks off fighting randos in a dingy, abandoned basement, but at least Simran-ssi is there.” He put a hand over his face after a moment’s pause and sighed heavily. “Then again, she’s fighting against men twice her size in the same place so maybe not the best influence.”
“Careful, I can see some wrinkles,” Namjoon teased.
~ * ~
The first few hours after the last fight were a strange time in the Coliseum. All the spectators, fighters, and their managers and patrons were gone, and the lively, dangerous air was now stilled and stagnant. But it was prime time for an investigation, and Simran loosened her hair from the tight French braid it was in and pulled on one of Jungkook’s hoodies she bummed off him. A faint smile came to her lips as she took in the familiar smell, but all too soon the moment passed and her eyes sharpened with focus; she had work to do.
Quietly, she moved throughout the emptied coliseum with practiced, nondescript movement. She kept her walk casual, keeping her hood up but slightly pulled back so her face was mainly visible. The best way to keep yourself out of sight was to be in plain sight. Her knuckles ached as she flexed them within the wide belly pocket of her hoodie and gripped her phone, straightening out her stiff shoulders. She wondered if she could get Jungkook to massage them later.
In the split second between her focus shifting from her objective to a stray, pleasant thought, her finely honed senses kicked in and she stopped short, glancing over to the left. The heavy ticking of the old clock in the hallway was the only sound that filled the air, and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t appreciate people sneaking up on me.”
“…I just want to talk.”
She froze. As she slowly turned around, her eyes widened and her heart stopped. The tension that had been slowly melting out of her shoulders and battered frame returned with a vengeance.
It was V, standing behind her with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. He was clad in the same black hoodie and grey shorts he was wearing before, but now Simran could see that they were slightly damp; had he thrown them on just after showering? No, his fight was hours ago and he won in an instant.
“…about what?” She asked, forcing her tone to be casual, but clearly cautious. Now that she got a good look at him, V was a lot taller than she thought he was, a lot more built. But it wasn’t useless muscle gained only for aesthetics; each and every one of them had been trained and nurtured for a purpose.
For a long moment, V seemed to be staring at her hoodie, not at her. Finally, he raised his dark eyes to meet hers. “The man with you. The one in the Balmain.”
Simran tensed, but raised an eyebrow. “What about him? He’s not a fighter, if that’s what you’re asking.”
V’s onyx brown eyes narrowed for a brief moment, as if offended that she’d ask something that stupid. Instead, he ignored it. “My next fight is in five days. Bring him by then.” He turned around to leave.
“Why?” The question was out of her mouth despite everything indicating she should let it go; V was unpredictable and this was a golden opportunity to try to stay on his good side and under his radar. Damn her mouth; it was going to get her killed one of these days.
V stopped after a step and glanced at her from over his shoulder, his curly bangs obscuring his heavy-hooded gaze. “His coat.”
And with that, V disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, leaving her alone in the empty Coliseum. (His coat?) she thought incredulously. (What the hell does he mean about his coat? That he splattered some dudes teeth on it?) She frowned. (I need to tell Namjoon about this.) It wasn't smart to stick around the Coliseum, not if V was still hanging around; she didn’t trust that he just left like that.
The thought occurred to her to go straight to wherever Namjoon was, but it was late and they weren’t going to be able to do anything about this new development until tomorrow. She sighed and opened up her cellphone as she left through one of the various back entrances, calling Jungkook. “Hey, do you mind if I crash at your place today?”
She smiled at his enthusiastic response. One of these days, she’ll have to come clean to him and hope that he would be as supportive as he’s always been.
~ * ~
Early the next morning, Simran pushed herself out of bed and placed a soft kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. He was out like a light, but reached out for her in his sleep, holding onto her wrist tightly. A small smile came to her lips and she gently applied a little bit of pressure to the base of his thumb and pinkie, getting his grip to release. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I have to go in early today. We’ll do lunch or something though…” He murmured something incoherent in response, and was back off to dreamland.
The guilt tore at her as she watched him sleep, wrapped up like a burrito in the blankets. She picked up her bag and pulled out her badge, slipping the thin silver chain around her neck and slipping it under her shirt before pulling on his hoodie. She gave him one last look before heading off to the police station.
She wasn’t surprised to see that Namjoon was already at their twin desks, typing away on his laptop. She looked over at Jin who rolled his eyes in the most exaggerated fashion, shrugging his broad shoulders. A smile came to her lips and she walked over to her side of the desk, setting her bag down heavily. “Tell me you weren’t here all night.”
“I won’t tell you that I was here all night,” Namjoon distantly replied, his eyes glued to his laptop screen. “Did you get my texts?”
“I got them but I haven’t looked at them; some of us have a social life,” Simran said, rolling her eyes. She paused, and got a mischevious look on her face. “Hey, Jin-seonbae, since I’m being ignored by my partner here, do you want to know what V said to me yesterday?”
The sound of Namjoon’s laptop immediately slamming shut was supremely satisfying to hear. Namjoon’s wide brown eyes were staring at her as if she had just said she was the one that captured Al Capone. “V talked to you?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, leaning forward. “Is my partner ready to talk to me now?” It was a bit childish, yes, but damn if it didn’t feel good. “I was wondering if he was going to be permanently out to lunch.”
Namjoon made a frustrated sound. “Lecture me later! What do you mean V talked to you?? He actually spoke to you?”
Simran’s expression shifted as the fun and jovial mood sobered up. “I was taking a look around the Coliseum once everyone was gone and he was tailing me. I don’t know how long; the man moves like a jungle cat. But he said he wants me to bring Kook’s friend Jimin to his next fight.”
“Why would he want you to bring Jimin?” Namjoon was in disbelief. “Jimin’s not a fighter. – Right?”
“You’d know better than me, but judging by his flawless skin and 5 million won coat, I’m reasonably sure that he’s not a secret cage fighter,” Simran replied, resting her chin on her right palm.
Jin snickered. “I do not see Jiminie ever getting his hands dirty.”
Namjoon’s mind was going a mile a minute. Never in a million years did he think that V was going to break through the shadows and ask to see Jimin. Or anyone, for that matter. “We should bring him down here and brief Jimin,” he said suddenly. “If this is going to happen he needs to know what to expect.”
“What? That’s going to get him killed,” Simran said incredulously. “V’s smart. Really smart. He would’ve been caught a long time ago if he wasn’t. He’s going to know the second he speaks to Jimin that he’s been coached.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised that he’s suspicious of me and brought this up to see what I’d do.”
She could see the gears turning in Namjoon’s head, his chin jutting out as a telltale sign that his concentration was at an all-time high. “But we can’t put Jimin in that kind of danger when we don’t know what V’s going to do.” He rubbed his head in frustration, and looked over at her. “Let’s clear the decks and figure out a plan for V’s next fight. We can’t have the two of them meet without at least one of us there.”
~ * ~
Jimin sighed to himself, watching as his breath escaped him in a puff of white smoke the second he stepped out at the base of the skyscraper that housed VOGUE Seoul’s offices. The sky was pitch black save for the bright lights of the street lamps, and the full moon. No snow was falling, save for the dusting he got when a particularly chilling breeze tousled his hair and caused snow to fall from the street light right above him.
The weeks leading up to a new issue was always chock full of drama with everything from conflicting personalities, schedules falling apart, clothes not fitting or not arriving at all, but this month’s issue seemed to be on steroids. Problems he had never dealt with in all his years at the magazine seemed to pop up on the hour and worse yet, he couldn’t focus. Every single time Jimin closed his eyes to try and center his focus, he saw V’s face.
As he opened his eyes after a particularly deep sigh, he saw a dark haired man standing in front of him, dressed in a stunningly fitted silvery grey Gucci suit with gorgeous navy detailing. It from the vaulted 2013 winter men’s collection, Jimin realized dazedly. Beneath the off grey fitted jacket was a navy blue vest over a black button down shirt with blue/white alternating stripes behind the collar, unbuttoned enough that Jimin was able to spot a thin necklace around his neck with the iconic Gucci bee hanging from it. Draped over the man’s broad shoulders was a silvery blue velvet long coat with ethereal ruching that looked as if it was carved from black ice.
“Busy tonight?” the man asked, his voice deep and confident.
Jimin snapped out of the fog he’d found himself in and an icy cold fission of realization shot up his spine. His mouth opened slightly as his eyes widened. “V…?” he asked quietly, stunned. It couldn’t be. What would he be doing here out in the open like this? From everything Jungkook and Simran had told him, V was a ghost.
A very handsome ghost.
One that was wearing impossible to get Gucci in front of him right at this moment. One that wanted to see him, and was talking to him right now.
Why him?
A thin, boxy smile came to V’s lips and he shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Are you busy tonight?”
Truthfully, Jimin was very busy tonight. He had his laptop slung over his shoulder in a stylish laptop bag, and a very clear schedule to adhere to if he was going to get his work in to make the deadline. That thought did not enter his mind at all, and he found himself shaking his head. “No, not really,” he stammered, subconsciously running a gloved hand through his hair. He was nervous, antsy; he didn’t think that he would see V outside of the Coliseum, and that he was dressed like a runway model. (What is he doing here? He didn’t… come to see me specifically… did he?)
Just as his hand fell from his hair and was about to rest at his side, V gently captured Jimin’s hand in his and idly inspected the thin leather, his dark eyes combing over the gold damask around the gathered cuff. “1977 Yves Saint Laurent,” he murmured. “These are difficult to get a hold of.”
Jimin felt faint and he swallowed thickly. “I worked with YSL a few years ago; these were given to me as a gift by Mr. Saint Laurent in thanks.” A faint blush of embarrassment crossed Jimin’s pale cheeks as he recalled the memory. “They were up against the wall with a deadline for a photoshoot for a retrospective that lined up with New York Fashion week but no one’s hands could fit the gloves. It needed to be a perfect fit. I don’t know what I was thinking; I put them on and did it myself.”
He was afraid to look up at the handsome man in front of him, just knowing that V was going to be staring at him in disbelief, but instead Jimin saw that there was an amused glint in V’s dark eyes, that boxy smile returning to his lips. “You picked up a pair of vintage YSL gloves and put them on? Ballsy.”
“Mr. Saint Laurent thought so too until he saw that it was what he needed,” Jimin replied, a devious smile coming to his lips. “He was tripping over himself thanking me for saving the day. At the end of it all he told me I should have them.”
V leaned in, and Jimin’s vision blurred slightly; V smelled good. Damn good. Bergamot, leather, cedar wood. Uomo by Valentino. Jimin felt weak in the knees as V’s breath danced along his ear. “They were made for you,” he murmured, smoothly grasping Jimin’s gloved hand in his own. “Come with me; I owe you an apology for ruining your Balmain coat.”
Heat rose to Jimin’s face and he was positive that his ears were fire engine red. “It’s fine,” he stammered. “My drycleaner needs to earn the insane prices they charge.” Despite the weak protest, Jimin raised his clear eyes and met V’s half-lidded gaze. “But I’ll always accept an apology present.”
V laughed; a deep, clear sound but just low enough that it only reached Jimin’s ears. “Understood,” he said, and tightened his hold on Jimin’s right hand. “This way.” To Jimin’s surprise, V led him down the sidewalk and to a nearby square where art installations and community events would be held. Jimin never bothered going down this way, and almost didn’t realize where they were until he broke his gaze away from V’s chiseled profile.
His eyes widened as they entered the Square, which was filled with gorgeous ice sculptures of dizzyingly different shapes, sizes and sculpts. His mouth opened slightly and curled into a wondrous smile. “Incredible,” he breathed, stepping forward and unknowingly pulling V along behind him. “This was here the entire time?” Jimin turned his head suddenly to V, who was watching him with a faint smile. “How did you know I would like this?”
“I didn’t,” V admitted, making up the distance so they were standing side by side, “but I thought you’d look beautiful alongside the ice.” That boxy smile returned, and Jimin felt his chest tighten; this was bad. Really bad.
But it felt so good.
Jimin suddenly snorted and looked away as a blush crept across his cheeks, all the way to his ears. “Y-You’re ridiculous,” he said, forcing his way through the stutter. “Does anybody actually fall for lines that like that?”
V gave a slight shrug. “I don’t know; this is the first time I’ve wanted to say it to someone.” As Jimin sputtered in response, V gave him a fond smile and gently tugged him along to see the other ice sculptures.
Snow machines were set up all over the square to add a winter wonderland feel, and V shook his head ruefully and gently brushed a few fake snowflakes off Jimin’s face, his hand lingering on Jimin’s cheek longer than necessary, but never for as long as Jimin wanted. Growing frustrated, Jimin waited until V’s hand was brushing across his cheek again before reaching up to grasp it with his free hand and kept it there. “You seem to like my face,” he said finally, keeping his gaze locked with V’s. “You don’t have to keep making up excuses to touch it.”
Surprise briefly flitted across V’s darkly handsome features, and that damn charming smile returned to his lips. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” His elegant fingers gently caressed the defined lines of Jimin’s jaw, sliding behind his neck and with an equally devious smile to the one Jimin gave him earlier, V leaned in and captured Jimin’s lips in a kiss.
Whatever thoughts were going through Jimin’s head at that moment short-circuited and all he could think about was… nothing. He couldn’t think of a damn thing, only the feel of V’s lips against his. There was a finesse and elegance to the kiss that Jimin didn’t think was possible, but also a raw hunger that threatened to swallow him up whole. He could feel V’s other arm slide around his waist and tighten, shifting him to a different position but he didn’t care.
The kiss broke slowly, their breaths mixing as their lips parted. Jimin’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled, staring into the dark depths of V’s eyes. “That was nice,” he whispered quietly. It seemed all too perfect, the fake snow falling all around them, and the warmth from the man in front of him made all the strife and pain he endured worth it.
“I want to see you again,” V said softly, his gloved thumb gently stroking Jimin’s cheek. “Like this, with no one else around. Just the two of us.”
Jimin slowly reached up and placed his hands on both of V’s, searching those dark eyes for any semblance of a lie. “This feels like I’m about to wake up, and curse myself up for dreaming you up,” he said, frowning. “Are you even real, V?”
That infuriatingly charming boxy smile curled V’s lips again, and he gave Jimin a little pinch - right on Jimin’s round cheeks. “I’m real,” he said, chuckling. “I have a fight in a few days; we’ll have to meet up after that. Are you in?”
Every synapse in Jimin’s brain was screaming at him to say no, to say that he had work to do that this was insane and he knew better than to get involved with a handsome stranger that had more warning bells than he knew what to do with. But it all drowned out into the abyss when he stared into V’s smouldering gaze. “…Yes,” Jimin agreed, the word tumbling past his pink-tinted lips. “Should we exchange numbers?”
V smiled at him. “I’ll send you a message; you’ll know it’s from me. The surprise is more fun, isn’t it?” He stole another kiss from Jimin and pulled away slightly. “It’s addictive, ne.”
“It is,” Jimin admitted, feeling like putty in the other man’s hands. He could spend hours getting lost in V’s eyes, finding it all too easy to ignore his better judgment. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive. “Our secret?”
“Our secret,” V agreed, smiling boyishly at him. He reached up one more time and gently rubbed his thumb across Jimin’s slightly swollen lips, pleased. “Until then… Jimin.” He held Jimin in place for a long moment before finally breaking away and turning around, disappearing into the crowd.
Jimin stared after him for what felt like hours, until a soft thud and a heavy weight suddenly hit him in the back. He grunted and craned his neck to look behind him, realizing from the laugh behind him that it was Jungkook. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded.
“Saying hi,” Jungkook replied, and Jimin could feel the dumb grin on the younger man’s face even if he couldn’t see it. “Didn’t think we’d see you here!”
“We?” Jimin continued to try and shake Jungkook off and turned, seeing Simran standing a few steps behind them, dressed comfortably in jeans, hoodie and a toque with a pompom on top. “Aren’t you cold in that?”
She smiled. “Not really; got a high cold tolerance.”
Jimin shook his head in disbelief and looked back at Jungkook. “I take back what I said; I definitely see how you two weirdoes started seeing each other. — get off of me!” He shook Jungkook off completely this time, and straightened out his coat.
“You look a little flustered, Jimin-ssi, are you all right?” Simran asked, tilting her head to the side.
Startled, Jimin wondered if he looked as freshly kissed as he felt and he quickly nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. I just… it’s a lot colder out here than I thought it was. Didn’t think I was out here that long but these sculptures are really something.”
“Lost track of time?” Jungkook asked, running a hand through his longish hair.
“Yeah, something like that,” Jimin replied, grateful for the excuse. “—I don’t want to intrude on your date, so I should get going. I spent more time here than I wanted to, so I’ll have to pull a bit of an all nighter if we’re going to get this month’s issue out.”
Jungkook, bless him, looked concerned and nodded. “Sure, hyung. You sure you don’t want a ride back?”
Jimin shook his head. “No, don’t worry about it. I can get a cab. Besides, you two are on a date. I’m not so hard up that I’m going to third wheel it.” He gave them a thin smile. “Just… promise me that you two aren’t going to do some vigilante justice on some unsuspecting street punks as a bonding exercise.”
“No promises,” Simran joked as she gave him a little wave, watching as Jimin waved back and hurried off through the Square. “We might just be what this city needs, not what it deserves.”
Jungkook smiled at her. “Deciding to turn in your life of underground fighting for defending the law?”
“Maybe,” Simran said, smiling back as she hopped up a bit to briefly hang onto Jungkook’s broad back. “What would you do if I was a boring ol’ law lady?”
Jungkook hummed thoughtfully as he put an arm around her shoulders once she hopped down from his back, tugging her close. “How boring are we talking here? Like meter maid or hardboiled detective? There’s quite a bit of options going on in the law defending area.”
Simran’s eyes widened slightly, and a smile came to her lips; Jungkook was a lot more perceptive than people gave him credit for. “There’s a lot,” she agreed, giving him a little squeeze. “I don’t know what I’d do, to be honest. But the current job isn’t really sustainable.” She winked. “Don’t want to ruin the moneymaker.” She gestured to her face with a laugh. “What do you think?”
“Whatever makes you happy,” Jungkook replied earnestly. He looked down at her, his doe brown eyes holding her gaze in a comfortable silence. “Just be honest with me, that’s all.”
“Jungkook,” Simran said softly, taking his hands into hers. “I will be. I promise.” (He knows,) she thought, her chest tightening. (He knows something’s up. Nngh; can’t we just catch V already so I don’t have to keep doing this?)
Her phone began to beep incessantly, and though she had tried to ignore it, the notification alerts changed to repeated ringtones as whomever was texting her was now calling her. “Who’s blowing up your phone?” Jungkook asked, his brows furrowing. “It sounds urgent.”
Simran carefully pulled out her phone and saw that it was Namjoon. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she slipped it back into her pocket. “I have to go back into work,” Simran said, sighing heavily. “My second ‘job,’ I mean.” She smiled apologetically.
“You’ve been going in at all hours lately,” Jungkook noted, his voice low and despondent. “That doesn’t seem really fair to you. Not even about me, but it seems so rough for you. Then again… a job is a job, isn’t it?”
(He sounds like he’s convincing himself… Oh, please don’t look at me like that with those puppy dog eyes, Kook.) Simran thought, her chest feeling as if it’s about to tear itself in two. “Just a little bit longer, and it’ll be over,” she said, squeezing his hands.
Jungkook was silent as he looked down at their hands, his usual energy gone as the conversation became tense. She could see that he was struggling, either to say something or to process the situation, and it broke her heart. His hands tightened around hers as he finally raised his head to meet her eyes. “…be careful, okay?”
He looked so earnest, so concerned that Simran was ready to tell Namjoon she couldn’t do this any longer. Instead, she nodded and leaned up on her toes to place a soft kiss to his lips. “I will; I promise.” She rested back on her feet for a moment before leaning up again for a deeper kiss. “I’ll make this up to you.”
“You better! A whole crate of banana milk,” Jungkook demanded, a smile on his lips. “Or… what are they called, a flat? A lot.” He nodded firmly.
Simran laughed and nodded. “You got it, Kook.” She’d owe him more than that for putting up with all of this, but she could definitely start by getting him enough banana milk that he’d be sick of it. “You want me to walk back with you?”
Jungkook shook his head. “Nah, I can head back on my own. Better get to work before your boss loses his shit, though.”
“…Yeah, I’m going to get an earful,” Simran said, sighing. She gave him one last kiss before hurrying off to grab a cab. (Jungkook, you deserve the truth. I hope I can tell you soon.) She looked down at her phone and scrolled through Namjoon’s texts. Though they appeared to have arrived in a frenzy, they had been automatically broken up as Namjoon was texting her what appeared to be a goddamn novel.
10:27 p.m.
I know you told me not to stay here all night and not to look over the V file over and over because at this point nothing is retaining but something was bothering me that I couldn’t let go. So I looked over the entire file from top to bottom and annotated it with what you’ve been learning from the Coliseum to create what the structure is and maybe if we figure out what the hierarchy is in with the Coliseum we can figure out how V fits into the whole thing. Why else would they be mentioning him as if he’s part of the Coliseum itself? Is it really something as simple as he’s a mythological figure? He’s just human, isn’t he? Of course he is. He’s human just like the rest of us but he’s cultivated a persona that has got everyone thinking that he’s some kind of supernatural monster.
10:28 pm
There’s no way he’s a monster but there’s gotta be something that he’s doing that’s made it possible for him to be in secrecy for so long. The type of people that are fighting and participating in the Coliseum are not stupid. I mean, most of them seem to be stupid but the ones higher up on the chain are definitely not stupid. They’re all mafia types, or other types of criminals that got there on smarts.
So what’s V doing that’s different? Who does he know that’s helping him?
… IS anybody helping him?
What does he want? Is he even involved in the Coliseum’s inner workings? Or did he get caught up in this too?
10:29 pm
I think these are the questions we’re dealing with at the core of the investigation. We need to look into everyone at the Coliseum. Every fighter, every booker, manager, the sales girls, everybody. We’re not going to find out who V is until we figure out who everybody else is and figure out who is connected to him.
Then again, he might be smart enough not to have anybody help him. In which case, we’re really outclassed here. But we’ve been the underdog before and he’s bound to slip up sometime. He’s human just like the two of us. We just need to find V’s trigger. What makes him tick? What is his weakness? He must have one but it’s fiercely protected.
Who is V?
10:30 p.m.
I’ve been thinking about what to do with V’s next fight in a couple days. He wants to see Jimin, right? Why do you think that is? Do you think he recognizes Jimin from somewhere? But Jimin didn’t know who he was and I don’t have any sort of indication or cross-section as to where they would meet. We don’t know anything about V, yes, but I do know Jimin very well and V doesn't seem to be the type of person that would be someone Jimin knows. But why would V want to know Jimin? Or have him there at the fight? It some sort of trap? What the hell is going on with V?
There’s also the concern and risk that he knows you aren’t really an underground fighter and is onto you. In which case we need to be careful. I know you have the training and you came here recommended by the Chief personally, but still. There are too many variables and I don’t want to put you both in continual danger.
But I do agree with you that we can’t brief Jimin the way we would a normal informant. V would know in an instant that he’s been coached. What if we put a tracking device on Jimin? I’ve asked the tech guys to put something together that would match Jimin’s fashion sense so it doesn’t look out of place.
10:31 pm
Do you think that V would let you be there with Jimin? Maybe there’s a way to swing it that the only way he can see Jimin is if you’re there. I can’t imagine Jimin being reckless enough to go with someone he doesn’t even know. V has a dangerous aura and it’s obvious. Jimin would know better.
So I think we should see where it goes and make sure that one of us is with Jimin to make sure he’s okay.
Simran, can you come to the station? This’ll be easier to explain in person.
Simran blinked slowly and wondered if he was doing it voice to text, given the weird flow but … also knowing Namjoon, he would type out an entire essay and send it, not realizing that it would be sending in a flurry of texts. Despite the fact he had an IQ of 148 Namjoon could be surprisingly dense about many things. Then again, if he was in the middle of an epiphany, it would read like a flood of thoughts he sent to her just so he wouldn’t lose the record of it. (I don’t even know if I want to know what his voicemails are.)
With a sigh, she switched over to the phone app and called her voicemail, putting a hand over her face when she heard that he had left her no less than five separate voicemails. It was roughly the same amount of information that he had sent to her in text, but with more of a frenetic tone as paper was shuffling. In the background, she could hear Jin yelling at him that it was too late to keep working and that he should listen to his hyung once in a goddamn moon because this was becoming an obsession and honestly why wouldn’t anybody listen to him? He’s the oldest.
With a heavy sigh, Simran deleted the voicemails and cleaned up her inbox. She almost wished her next mission was fighting V in the ring; it was more straightforward than this.