“Calm down,” Jungkook says while massaging his shoulders. “You’ve got this. This is just like any other important social event!”
Seokjin cranes his neck to glare at him. “This is literally what everyone refers to as the most important day in my life and you’re trying to calm me down by saying that?”
“You look like you’re about to cry,” Taehyung calls, entering Seokjin’s dressing room. Seokjin sighs and turns back to his reflection. Of course, his reflection looks back at him, impossibly handsome, his black hair (that was recently dyed again just for this cause) gelled up and falling over his eyes in waves, forehead exposed. His dangle earrings brush his jaw, pure silver, and glinting where they caught the light. His suit is ironed, his shoes shined, his lips perfectly pinked and his eyes appropriately lined. He looks perfect but perfect is far from what he feels.
“How’s Junseo doing?” he asks, distracted. He hadn’t been allowed to see his fiancé for 24 hours before their wedding as per some dumb tradition and thinking back to how distracted he seemed the last time they spoke, Seokjin can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach. “When did he arrive?”
I’m just being paranoid, he assures himself. Just overthinking as usual.
In the mirror, he sees Taehyung exchange a glance with Jungkook. He knows these two like he knows the back of his hands and he can immediately recognize the you do it! glare they’re shooting at each other.
Seokjin sighs and fights the urge to run his hands through his hair, massaging the bridge of his nose.
“Hyung-” Jungkook begins.
“Are you kidding me?” Seokjin wrings his hands. “The reception was supposed to start forty fucking minutes ago, where is that-”
“Jin-hyung, it’s alright. He’ll be here soon,” Taehyung says. His dark eyes are reassuring. “Everything’s going smoothly. The guests are being entertained, we have some appetizers going around to keep them comfortable. The members of the press are cleaning their camera lenses, and you guys’ parents sitting with each other, talking like they’re old friends.” He helps Seokjin up. “I talked to Minsoo-ssi, he’s sure Junseo-hyung is showing up soon.”
Jungkook grabs his hands and rubs his thumbs over Seokjin’s knuckles. “Deep breaths,” he commands gently. “It’s alright. Nothing bad is going to happen, nothing embarrassing; you’re going to get married and I’ll get shitfaced with Taehyung-hyung and Jimin-hyung and look great while doing so.”
Seokjin is quiet for a second. His mind is racing. “I’m getting married,” he murmurs. He looks up at Jungkook, heart in his throat, and stars in his eyes. “I’m getting married, for fuck’s sake.”
“You’re getting married, Hyung!” Taehyung wraps them both in a hug, careful not to wrinkle their clothes. “Even if I don’t like to who-”
“Don’t you dare start on this today-” Seokjin warns.
“Even if I really don’t like who, I’m happy. I’m happy because you’re happy.” Taehyung pulls away. “Even if I’m salty you gave the best man role to Jiminie-”
“I deserved it,” Jungkook grumbles petulantly.
“-you’re going to get up there on the altar and get married and look so beautiful everyone in Korea is going to cry about not snatching you up.”
“All the aunties are already doing so anyway because now you’re off-limits as a son-in-law.” Jungkook swings an arm around him. “Come on, let’s get in there and wait for your Prince Charming.”
“A Prince Charming who needs a watch,” Taehyung says, setting off and leading them out of the dressing room. Due to Junseo not showing up on time- God, is he going to get it from Seokjin when he finally does- he couldn’t greet any guests or the select few members of the press invited or stand on the altar with him on time so he’ll have to awkwardly walk up to the altar from a side entrance and wait up for Junseo to show up.
When Taehyung nudges the door open, he hears music swelling and guests clapping along. Jimin’s sweet voice greets them as they try to sneak in as quietly as possible. Seokjin's heart aches at the fondness he feels for Jimin who put his misgivings for Seokjin’s fiancé aside and worked tirelessly on his wedding after he managed to wrestle the best man position from Jungkook and Taehyung through his Hyung-privilege. He helped seat all the guests, talked to the press, and entertained everyone for about an hour while Seokjin was occupied with where Junseo was and Taehyung and Jungkook with stealing food off the plates before the buffet was open.
The song ends and everyone claps, a few cheers even ringing from the crowd. Jimin is magnetic on stage, magical, and Seokjin thanks God his best man is one of the best performers in the country.
Now that he realizes it, all of his closest friends are in the music industry. Huh.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the groom!” Jimin says when he sees Seokjin, beaming widely. His smile does not fade but its effect is completely different as he turns to Kim Minsoo, Junseo’s best man. “Now if only we knew where the other groom was!”
Minsoo shifts uncomfortably. Light flashes off his side profile as the press raise their cameras. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Seokjin gives a small smile to both his and Junseo’s parents. Contrary to what Taehyung said to calm him down, they don’t look like old friends at all. More like high school enemies that were forced to get along at parties because their parents knew each other.
His mother smiles back. Cameras flash at her, too, her beaming smile showcasing her perfect teeth, the heavy necklace resting on her perfectly-shaped collarbones glittering. His father grimaces a smile, never quite one for the cameras unlike his wife and youngest. A former model and an extremely successful businessman, the Kims were almost as fun to photograph as their son.
Far from the polite expressions of happiness on his parent’s face, his older brother’s scowl is stormy. Seokjin knows it isn’t directed at him but he shoots a quick glare at him as he makes his way to the altar from the steps on the side.
Smile, Hyung! he complains in his head. His brother just rolls his eyes at him.
“Thank you for waiting,” Seokjin says politely into the mic. The rows of guests blend into one glittering, muttering blur. The flowers hanging from the ceiling and lining the altars are scentless and pretty. Yellow carnations stand tall in the glasses lined up on the long caramel-colored tables. The live band’s instruments glint in the soft lighting.
It’s perfect. An expensive wedding in the best location with the best decor and catering- it’s what many people dream of.
It would be perfect if the groom could just show up.
“I’m sure Junseo-hyung will be here soon,” Seokjin says. Yes, he drops honorifics when he complains, sue him. “He does have a habit of running late!”
He’s referencing their movie. They had revealed on a variety show that they were supposed to meet before their first shooting for Solar Eclipse, a movie that exploded in popularity both across Korea and internationally, critics and the public alike in awe of the lead couple’s easy chemistry. Junseo turned up late, though, and his smile when he apologized to the cast had been so charming that the director had had it written into the script and their movie meet-cute became one of the best romantic setups seen in a long time, often referenced whenever Seokjin was photographed looking at his watch by himself on a date.
The crowd titters. A few people on the other groom’s side shift uncomfortably. Minsoo looks like if he stands there any longer, he’ll melt into the ground.
Suddenly, the doors to the venue burst open. The slight din in the venue quiets completely as everyone turns to stare at the newcomer. Seokjin’s heart leaps into his throat when he sees someone in a black suit standing silhouetted against the light.
The man steps into view. Seokjin’s heart sinks as he recognizes him. Every camera in the hall goes off as Seokjin stares into the eyes of Lee Junseo’s manager.
“I can’t contact him.” He breaks the tense silence. He looks like he has aged forty years since the last time Seokjin saw him. “His apartment is empty and some of his clothes are gone.” The murmur in the hall begins to climb. The manager swallows. “Junseo isn’t coming.”
The murmur rises into a roar and Seokjin feels the ground beneath him fall away even as Junseo’s manager bows in apology. The press leaps to their feet, digging out their mics and racing to the aisle even as Jimin wraps an arm around him and begins to lead him away.
His feet feel like lead. Seokjin’s staring but can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, can’t think anything past the haze of humiliation and a wave of slow, pulsing anger that showed in his pale face, in his jerky movements.
A solid arm wraps around his shoulders and he is steered away from the crowd. A mic is shoved into his face and he catches distant sight of Junseo’s parents on their feet, looking ready to flee but having nowhere to run.
“Seokjin-ssi! Why do you think Junseo-ssi didn’t show up?!” a man yells in his face.
“Look here! Look here, Seokjin-ssi!” God, Seokjin handpicked who was admitted to his wedding himself thinking these people were slightly better than most of the reporters he met . They’re all fucking vultures. “What happened in your relationship before your wedding?”
“Seokjin-ssi!” God, this lady might as well shove her mic up his nose while she’s at it. “Does this confirm that Junseo-ssi was only using you for public approval since his last scandal?”
“Keep walking,” a familiar voice murmurs in his ear. It’s his older brother, his touch grounding.
“Was there any love in your relationship with Junseo?” Seokjin halts. “Was your relationship with Junseo ever real or simply just-”
“Simply what?” Seokjin snaps. His voice is wavering but loud. Cameras go off, their sharp glares like lighting striking an inch from where you stand. “What? Media play? Pretend?”
He wrenches himself from his brother and Jungkook’s grasps and turns to glare at the press. He thinks he might cry. “How dare you! How dare you- you imply that what I ever felt for him was less than real, that I simply faked everything up to what was supposed to be the most important day of my life-”
“Hyung!” Jimin is by his side, tugging him away. His face is blurry for some reason. “Hyung, come on, come on.” Seokjin falls on him, limp. He feels exhausted all of a sudden.
Seokjin is ushered into a car as they exit the venue. Thankfully there is no one milling about though he knows he will be hounded by the press for the next few weeks.
Jungkook closes the door behind him and leans forward. “My place,” he tells Taehyung who sits in the driver’s seat, the line of his broad shoulders tense against his suit.
“Where’s Jimin?” Seokjin asks. The only people in this car are him, Jungkook, Taehyung, and his older brother who he’s curled up into like he’s seven and getting bullied on the playground, not twenty-five and left at the altar.
“He’s doing damage control,” Jungkook says. He squeezes Seokjin’s palm. “He stayed behind to reassure the guests and everything.”
That’s the last straw to make Seokjin burst into tears.
His brother runs a comforting and heavy hand up and down his spine. Jungkook clasps both of his hands around Seokjin’s. Taehyung drives quietly, dark eyes on the horizon and knuckles stark white on the steering wheel.
Seokjin drags himself out of Jungkook’s guest bedroom and into the living room where he’s sitting with Taehyung and Jimin. They spring up immediately and usher him into a seat, fretting hands patting his head and back.
“Where’s Hyung?” he asks them. His voice is thick from crying. He had kicked all of them out of the room when he began his little pity party, not wanting them to see him like that.
“He left to deal with the security around your building and your parents,” Jimin says. He is still stroking Seokjin’s head. Seokjin can’t find it in himself to jokingly protest against the action the way he often does.
“Damn.” Seokjin lets out a sigh and slumps against the pillows, drained. He opens his eyes to see all three of them fidgeting in front of him. He closes his eyes again, groaning. “Okay, you big babies, you can hug me.”
Jungkook and Taehyung immediately tuck themselves on either side of him. Jimin hesitates before clambering next to Taehyung and tucking his feet under Seokjin’s legs.
They are quiet for a while. There is peace here in Jungkook’s warm living room with his best friends on his side. Seokjin leans against Taehyung and lets himself breathe.
Jungkook suddenly reaches out for his hand. Seokjin watches as he lifts it and gently slides his engagement ring off of his finger before violently flinging it across the room. It lands on his carpet, the rose gold band and single sparkling diamond lost in the black tresses.
“Good riddance,” Taheyung says, and that sets the three of them off at once, all of them talking over each other about God, what an asshole and That fucking coward and if I ever see him again, send for an ambulance immediately. Seokjin lets them. He enjoys hearing them ripping apart his (ex?) fiance.
“Damn, I wish I could get a refund on that wedding.” Seokjin sighs at all the money lost. “No wonder that bastard made me pay for everything.”
“I bet that ring’s fake,” Taehyung scoffs. “It was ugly anyway.”
Seokjin frowns. “You never told me that.”
“We all thought it,” Jungkook mumbles.
“God, have some tact, you two.” Jimin reaches out to smack the back of Jungkook’s head. “Jin-hyung, no matter what the ring looked like, you made it look ten times better.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Anyway,” Jimin forges on, “you’re better off without him. You were always way out of his league anyway, Hyung.”
“I feel like we should be having ice cream with this conversation.” At their questioning glances, Taehyung shrugs. “I’ve seen it in American movies.”
“You’d be lucky if you found a fridge here, much less food inside,” Jimin says. They all glance around in distaste at the two couches and the 219-inch TV mounted on the wall. Seokjin thinks of the single futon in the guest room and holds back a laugh.
“That’s not true!” Jungkook defends himself. “Samsung sent me a fridge after my ad with it.”
“That was three months ago and you’ve had this apartment for two years,” Taehyung says.
They fall silent for some time. Jimin reaches out to squeeze his hand (or maybe Taehyung’s wrapped around it, he’s not sure). “So…”
“So?” Seokjin parrots.
“So what now?” he asks. The three of them turn their wide eyes to Seokjin. Inexplicably, he’s reminded of the first time he saw them in one room almost a decade ago now, Jungkook at 14 and Jimin and Taehyung at 16 with backward snapbacks looking up at him after he entered the meeting room at their company building with huge, shiny eyes.
Seokjin is quiet. What now? What now, really?
When Seokjin does something, he does it wholeheartedly. This marriage with Junseo was the only thing he had lined up for him for quite a long time. He could film another drama or appear on a variety show but Seokjin thinks of cameras and he thinks of eyes and he feels nauseous.
There isn’t anything left for him to do. Seokjin feels sick when he thinks of all the days he wasted on Junseo, of all the time he wasted on trying to mend the frayed ends of their relationship when he could have been out filming something else, with someone else. He thinks of all the embarrassment and shame and anger he could have saved himself from and scowls.
“What about your honeymoon?” Taheyung asks.
“God, Taehyung-hyung, obviously he’s not going to-” Jimin begins.
“No, wait,” Jungkook interrupts. “Hyung can just take it by himself.”
“Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like he’s paying for it,” Taheyung adds. “His parents are, it’s his wedding gift. I’d hate missing out on that.”
“He can’t show up to a honeymoon alone!” Jimin hisses.
“Wait,” Seokjin says. He chews his lips as he considers. Contrary to what Jimin is saying, an already paid-for vacation away from all of this where he can just relax and be by himself for some time sounds like absolute bliss. “I think that’s not a bad idea.”
“Hyung, really?” Jimin asks. “I mean, wouldn’t it be better staying home?”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow at him. “Would you want to stay here if you were me?”
They’re all thinking of the same thing- the rows and rows of cameras sure to be trained on Seokjin wherever he went before the fallout from this began to die down. Whenever that would be.
“I’d love to go to Italy,” Jungkook says. He’s turning his eyes on Seokjin, those eyes that vaguely remind him of a Disney character he can’t name.
“Go on your own honeymoon, punk.” Jungkook pouts and Seokjin softens. He runs a hand through Jungkook’s long hair. “I’ll take you on your birthday, okay?”
“Hyung, that’s like half a year away!” Jungkook whines.
“Hey, you never took me anywhere for my birthday!” Taehyung jumps in.
“I’ve taken you to, like, at least-”
“I mean like out of Korea,” Taehyung says.
“He took me to Malaysia for my eighteenth,” Jimin says smugly and then they’re all bickering and teasing each other. Seokjin smiles. He knows they’re acting like brats to make him feel better. As much as he’d hate to admit it, it’s working.
Seokjin tries to untangle himself from them but fails to do so when Jimin wraps his arms tightly around his waist. Somehow, he’s ended up on top of both Taehyung and Seokjin. Seokjin stops struggling against them when he gets elbowed in the face by Jungkook.
“I’ll take you all somewhere when I get back, okay?” he asks to appease them.
“So you’ve decided on going?” Jungkook asks.
“I mean, why not?” Seokjin tries to shrug against the three bodies entrapping him. “It’ll be better than staying here, at least.”
“When will you leave?” Taehyung asks.
“I’m pretty sure in a week,” Seokjin says. “Mom wanted Junseo to-” He shuts his mouth. Mom wanted Junseo to be able to wrap up his work before leaving, he was going to say. Turns out there was no need for that after all.
They’re quiet again for a while but it’s awkward instead of comfortable. “You’ll be back in two weeks, right?” Jimin asks quietly.
“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “Two weeks.”
“Okay!” Taehyung sits up suddenly, knocking Jimin off of him. “Then until then, you’re ours!”
“Oi, you bastard, what was that for?!” Jimin yells from the floor and Seokjin barely has time to sigh before they’re yelling over each other again.
“Have a safe flight, okay?” his dad says, hugging Seokjin awkwardly.
Seokjin nods and hikes the handle of his bag up his shoulder. “Take care, Dad. Give Mom and Hyung my love,” he tells him. Everyone but his dad had stayed home in favor of dropping him off as per his request because it was super early in the morning.
He turns and waves at his dad one last time before turning back to the airport with a sigh, already tired of the upcoming twelve-hour flight he had to face.
Seokjin practically throws himself onto the bed after the busboy leaves. Checking into the honeymoon suite by himself had been a lot more embarrassing than he was anticipating and Seokjin was glad that that was in the past.
He breathes out into the pillow before turning his head, resting his cheek on the warm spot. He blows his bangs out of his face.
“Now what?” he asks the empty room.
No reply. With a groan, he heaves himself off of the bed and shoves his suitcases into one corner, crouching down to pull out an old T-shirt and shorts. He changes quickly into them and then crashes onto the bed.
It’s soft and cold in the way all beds in five-star hotels are. Seokjin wraps the blanket around himself, snuggles deep into his pillow, and goes to sleep.
With a huff of frustration, Seokjin yanks Junseo’s phone out of his hands and scowls at him. “Are you even listening?!” he exclaims. “I’ve been talking to you for the last fifteen minutes.”
Junseo narrows his eyes at him and grabs his phone back. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m busy.”
“Yeah, busy,” Seokjin says, the words bitter on his tongue. “Too busy to go out, too busy to work, too busy to do anything other than sitting on your ass-”
“If you’re here just to nag at me, you can leave.”
“You’re the one who called me here, asshole!” Seokjin snaps. He leans back on his chair, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. They’re sitting on the island in Junseo’s kitchen, the food Seokjin had brought over rapidly cooling down. Seokjin sighs. “I’m going to be honest with you. You said that after we got engaged, you’d try to make it work-”
“God, Seokjin-ah!” Junseo slams his hand on the granite counter, making Seokjin jump. “I’m trying to make it work, can't you see? Everything I do, I do for us-”
“Well, it doesn’t ever seem that way!” Seokjin stands up. He’s not going to sit there and take Junseo’s shit. Never again. “You said you’d change, you said you’d make it work, us work, and now look at you!” He gestures towards Junseo who scowls back, dark hair flopping into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to get back with you in the first place. You make promises, keep them for a month or two, and then suddenly decide that you don’t need to anymore.”
“Is that how you see it?” Junseo says. “Look at you! You’re younger than me and talking with such disrespect.” Seokjin scoffs. “Don’t forget all that I’ve done for you! I took you in, I introduced you to so many people, I am the reason you haven’t faded into irrelevancy! I swear, it seems like I love you twice as much as you love me. If you even love me at all.”
Seokjin blinks, feeling like he was just slapped. Tears spring into his eyes. The weight of his engagement ring digs deep into his finger. He steps away from the counter and turns away.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he says. “I can’t take it. You say one thing and then do something else. You say such horrible stuff to me and then think that fucking me will make up for it- I’ve had enough!”
“Where are you going?” Junseo comes around the counter and catches his wrist. For the first time, there is genuine emotion in his eyes. Panic. “You can’t leave.”
“Oh, I can’t, can I?” Seokjin yanks his wrist out of Junseo’s hand. “So I’m nothing to you until I almost leave. I’m sick of this! I’m sick of thinking that our relationship is nothing but something you use to get the media on your side and almost everything you do backing up my thoughts!” Fire in his eyes, he yanks the ring off his finger. “I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want it.”
Junseo is panicking. It’s clear to see. “Wait,” he says. “Wait, babe!” He stumbles as he follows Seokjin down the hallway. He grabs Seokjin’s wrist and yanks him into his arms. Seokjin freezes, this action so familiar to him it takes his breath away.
“Babe, I’m sorry,” Junseo says. He always says. His eyes are warm yet sorrowful, lips tilted perfectly down at the edges. No matter his faults, Junseo had always been a great actor. “Can we talk this out? Please? You can do that much for me, right?”
Seokjin hesitates. The voice of reason in his head that sounds suspiciously like Jimin screams at him to leave. Another voice sighs, love-stricken. Hear him out, it urges. What’s the harm?
Junseo slides the engagement ring back onto Seokjin’s finger. It’s too loose on him but it fits well enough. Seokjin looks up at Junseo and nods weakly.
Here we go again, he thinks, powerless as Junseo seals their lips together softly, hands sliding down to rest on his hips. Back to square one.
Seokjin jolts awake. It’s morning, light filtering through the window he forgot to draw curtains over. He groans and swallows, mouth dry and eyes crusty.
He forces himself up and stretches, yawning. Fuck Junseo, he thinks. He isn’t sad about those moments anymore the way he used to be once, he realizes. Now, he’s just angry.
During breakfast, Seokjin scrolls through Google, trying to figure out what to do. Taehyung had outlined a brief itinerary for him to follow, the first item simply being exploring the city of Palermo and its street market, especially the food stalls.
Now that he thinks about it, it was kind of a dumb idea to come here alone. Seokjin isn’t the type of person to go out and if he had come here with someone, it would have been a lot easier to convince himself to leave the comfort of his hotel room to venture out and explore the many sights of Sicily.
Seokjin sets his plates aside, thanking the gods above for room service. He hesitates as he eyes the huge bed, the television, and his phone tempting him from his bedside table.
“One hour,” he promises himself out loud, “then I’ll get ready and leave.”
Six hours later, Seokjin glances at the time and is shocked to find that it’s nearing 3 p.m. “Guess I can’t go now,” he says out loud. In return for missing out on exploring the city, Seokjin supposes he’ll go down to the hotel’s lunch instead of ordering room service or takeout.
Compromise, he thinks, grinning.
The hotel lunch is uneventful yet filling. Seokjin piles lobster upon lobster onto his plate, ignoring the judging stare of a young girl with bushy hair behind him. He devours it enthusiastically, eyes focused on his phone screen as he watches the newest episode of his current anime obsession. After he’s done, he wanders around the hallways for a bit, reading the names of the halls off of the plaque next to the elevator.
There’s a bar here. Seokjin makes a mental note to check it out soon.
Back in his hotel room, Seokjin draws a bath. The bathroom is huge, grandiose, a window on one side showing the glorious view of the sparkling water, the counters on the other smooth and golden. The mirror sits huge and rectangular, two sinks positioned in front of it, chic and black. The bathtub is the main attraction, though, huge enough for at least three people and with buttons that Seokjin spends a good ten minutes fiddling with. As the bathtub fills up with water, he perches on its wide edge and stares out of the window to the sea glittering beautifully under the setting sun, suddenly struck with how much he wants to share this view with someone else.
Seokjin doesn’t find himself craving the company of others very often. He doesn’t miss people that much and enjoys spending time alone. He rarely gets sexually frustrated, rarely misses the warmth of a body against his own or a hand in his. Seokjin lowers himself into the warm water and stretches his legs out, relaxing his body and sighing.
But... He’s just human. He wants someone around to share laughter and stories with. Someone who holds his hand and washes his hair in the shower and helps him cook. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Seokjin gazes at the pink horizon and thinks of Junseo with his cold hands and glare who left him at an even colder altar.
Suddenly the water feels cold.
The alcohol burns Seokjin’s throat as he tosses back another shot. Music filters through the air and a few couples sway on the dance floor. Resting his arms on the smooth counter, Seokjin sighs as he studies the other patrons at the hotel’s bar. Most of the people here are young, like him, and in couples, unlike him.
The bartender is friendly though her gaze is knowing as he knocks drink after drink, alcohol burning through his system and leaving a pleasant tingle behind. He needs this, needed to forget everything that had happened to him in the past 48 hours, and what better way to do so than wear pants that clung to his legs like a second skin, part his hair off his forehead and leave the first three buttons of his shirt open as he got drunk? He can already feel a few heavy gazes dipping past his on-display collarbones and he indulges them by arching his neck and angling his body.
One such gaze came from a young man sitting three stools over at the bend of the counter. His eyes flick away when Seokjin catches them but he doesn’t miss the way his long, slender fingers drum a pattern on the counter or the small blush high on his cheeks.
It’s Seokjin’s turn to steal a glance. The man is the obvious kind of good-looking with his almost cat-like eyes, high cheekbones, and straight-set mouth. He’s the attractive that seems familiar, seen before in celebrities on late-night shows and strangers in the subway. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, delicate, veined forearms on display, and a strong wrist off of which a silver Baselworld Rolex hangs. His ears are adorned with two small silver hoops and his light eyeshadow tells Seokjin he’s here to get laid tonight.
Seokjin admires the confidence. After all, his perfectly shaped collarbones are on display for the same reason.
“Like what you see?” the stranger says and if Seokjin was any less of a man, he would have been startled. His voice is as attractive as the rest of him, deceptively deep and drips like honey, and Seokjin is hit with the want of hearing that lazy drawl under the covers and in his ear. His accent is familiar in the way his words lilt at the end.
“I’d love to ask you the same,” Seokjin replies loftily, easily slipping into a confident persona after years and years of practice. He tilts his head in a way that is obviously flirtatious and leans forward just enough that the collar of his shirt dips just so.
The stranger’s eyes are dark and burn Seokjin inside out. The man is undressing him with his eyes so casually, the tilt of his smirk telling Seokjin I think we both know who has the upper hand here. And Seokjin’s fine with that- more than fine, actually- it’s just that he loves the little struggle before the fall.
“I’d love for you to let me buy you a drink,” he shoots back, eyes slowly drawing back up to Seokjin’s from his exposed chest. Seokjin hides a grin. Hook, line…
“Can you speak Korean?” Seokjin asks in Korean.
“Yes, I can.” He tilts his head. The shadows falling over his face obscure his eyes and draw attention to the edge of his mouth tugging up. He looks dangerous. “So, are you going to take me up on my offer or will I have to look for another handsome stranger to spend my money on?”
Seokjin rolls his eyes. Not even five minutes into their conversation and he can already tell what kind of person this man is. “I’ll never pass anything for free up,” he retorts. He straightens up to lean back on the stool casually, doing his best to look as unaffected as possible even though he knows he’s flushed from his ears all the way down to his chest from both the alcohol and the attention. “Why don’t you come closer so I can see what exactly I’m dealing with?” The numerous drinks he had have loosened his lips past the point of return.
The stranger- Seokjin needs a name so that he stops referring to him as so- gets up to slide into the seat next to him. He’s shorter than Seokjin realized considering how much space he took up just sitting there. His shirt is tucked into his pants, the emblem on his belt designer. Seokjin’s never once found money attractive in his life but it hangs so well off of this man you’d think he was born to be wealthy.
“Have we met before? You seem strangely familiar,” he says, beckoning the bartender over. Seokjin stiffens slightly. Really, what are the odds in some hotel all the way in Sicily someone recognizes him?
Pretty high, actually, considering the someone in question is Korean and seems too familiar for Seokjin to have not seen him plastered over some random billboard before.
“I’ve heard that one before,” he says loftily instead. Who cares if this man figures him out, anyway? He’s sure his embarrassment is on the front page of every gossip site in bold letters at this point. He has no real dignity left to lose. He raises his eyebrow. “Honestly, I could say the same thing about you.” He is strangely familiar, his dark eyes especially, but Seokjin can’t place a name to his face for the life of him. “What’s your name?”
“Suga,” he says. The name rings no bells. “What do you want?”
“What are you offering?” he shoots back. “Not a very Korean name.”
“When did I say I was Korean?” Suga asks him, teeth on display. Seokjin scowls. “I recommend the Negroni cocktail. It’s simple but good. What’s your name, then, sweetheart?”
“I’ll have a Negroni,” he tells the bartender. Should he go with his real name? He’s a familiar face already to Suga so maybe the name will make him realize his true identity. Maybe that’ll scare him away, or maybe tomorrow he’d wake up to reporters outside the hotel all clamoring for a story. “Put it on his tab, please.”
“Go ahead,” Suga says, amused, to the bartender’s questioning glance. He turns to Seokjin again. “So?”
Decisions, decisions. Seokjin was never good at making the right ones. “Seokjin. Kim Seokjin.”
He watches the realization dawn on Suga’s face. He leans forward, interested. Seokjin catches a whiff of his perfume- a thick, earthy scent. Maybe pine. “What, are you the Kim Seokjin?”
“No, I’m his next-door-neighbor,” Seokjin snipes. The bartender sets down his drink in front of him and turns to Suga.
“Would you like anything, sir?” she asks politely only to be dismissed distractedly by Suga.
“No way. Like, the Kim Seokjin I’m thinking of?” Seokjin traces his finger languidly around the rim of the glass, the ombre-red color winking at him. He really hopes he won’t wake up tomorrow to reporters outside his window. “Like, nation’s son-in-law Seokjin?”
“Depends on what nation.” Seokjin raises an eyebrow at Suga. “Why are you so surprised?”
Suga mirrors his expression. “Who would expect to run into the Kim Seokjin in a random hotel? Or ever?”
Seokjin scowls at him. “You’re too familiar to be some random citizen. When I figure you out, I’ll make just as much of a fuss as you are right now.”
Suga blinks. A lazy smile crawls over his face. “Sure, sweetheart. Now, are you going to drink that or not? My hard-earned money went into buying you that drink, you know.”
“Were you expecting something in return?” Seokjin says. It’s kind of concerning how easily they go back and forth. He knocks back the drink and then cringes as the bitterness wracks through him, spluttering. “What did you just feed me?” He scrunches his nose, grimacing. Suga’s eyes are trained on his lips and Seokjin smirks inwardly, sticking his already-plump lips out in a pout.
“Have the fruit, too,” he says distractedly. He scoots closer to him eagerly and Seokjin holds back a laugh. “Actually, can I feed it to you?”
Seokjin can’t hold it back now. His shoulders shake as he giggles loudly. “A little eager, aren’t you?” he asks, pleased to see Suga’s mouth pulled up in a smile.
“Can you blame me? How many people can say they’ve hand-fed Kim Seokjin before?” Suga says, reaching for the orange slice. Seokjin opens his mouth and leans forward, taking the slice into his mouth. Sucking on the orange, he watches in satisfaction as Suga’s eyes darken and his eyebrows furrow at the sight of his lips stretched over the fruit. He pulls back, licking his lips as Suga drops the peel in the glass. He holds his gaze, magnetized. Two opposite poles pulling towards the other as the laws of the universe decree it. Spinning on their pivots just to get close.
“You got a little something…” Suga trails off as he reaches for the corner of Seokjin’s mouth and swipes at it. They pause like that for a second, Suga’s finger pressing down softly on the edge of his lips before Seokjin tilts his head down. He leans forward, meeting him halfway as their lips connect softly.
The kiss is chaste but doesn’t feel anything like it. Suga nibbles on his lip softly and Seokjin has to bite back a whimper. They deepen the kiss, leaning more into each other as the universe stills around them, the soft slick of their lips on each other the only sound between them.
Suga pulls back first. He is quiet but his eyes are loud. He grabs Seokjin’s hand and pulls him out of the bar, Seokjin stumbling over himself to keep up. His grip burns on Seokjin’s wrist and Seokjin finds himself wishing he'll wake tomorrow to see a mark. Suga’s lips return on his again out in the hallway on their way to the elevator, insistent and setting fire to Seokjin’s own wherever they touched.
“W-wait,” Seokjin pants before his lips are claimed again. Suga’s hands come to rest on his waist like that is where they belong as he licks softly into Seokjin’s mouth, swallowing his light whimpers. “Wait!” Seokjin pulls back. His ears are so hot he thinks there’s something wrong with them. “You want to get arrested for public indecency?” he hisses. He can’t look away from Suga’s lips even as he says it.
Suga glances around. “There’s no one here.”
“There are cameras!” Seokjin says, flustered. He hasn’t been this flustered by anyone in a long, long time. Here’s this handsome, charming stranger, his voice deep and his hands strong, grabbing the firm carpet from under Seokjin’s feet and pulling it.
“Okay, so my room or yours?” Suga says cockily, leading him to the elevator. “That is, I’m assuming you’re currently staying here.”
“You’d be right to do so,” Seokjin says primly, mind racing even as he tries to straighten his shirt. He has condoms back in his room, this he knows as he found them while rifling through the room's drawers, but then he’ll have to explain the whole honeymoon suite thing. Though Suga curiously enough hasn’t brought up his whole left-at-the-aisle situation yet. “Yours,” he says as the doors open with a ding.
Suga pushes him into the (thankfully empty) elevator and latches his mouth onto his neck as soon as he presses the button for the 5th floor. Seokjin can’t hold back the soft “hnng, mhm” that escapes him as Suga expertly swirls his tongue over the mark that’s sure to form by tomorrow. He sucks harshly on his Adam’s apple, nipping around it and down to his exposed collarbones where he closes his teeth over the sensitive skin.
Seokjin gasps and his hand comes up to rake through Suga’s hair, messing up the artfully styled locks. He wonders if anyone is watching through the cameras. The thought sends a thrill through his spine and straight to his dick.
Suga kisses him harshly and with tongue, swallowing Seokjin’s pitiful gasps as he licks the roof of his mouth and rolls their tongues together. As he pulls back, a string of spit breaks between them. The door dings open and Seokjin barely has time to catch his breath before Suga pulls him down the hallway, their shoes sinking into the plush red carpet.
“Which one’s yours?” he asks, breathless. Suga pauses in front of a door colored a handsome brown like all the others and digs his key card out of his pocket, cursing as it gets stuck. He opens the door and tugs Seokjin in, slamming the door shut, not giving him time to look around before his lips are on his again.
Kissing Suga is all-consuming. He kisses like it’s a sport, using his lips and teeth and tongue and pulling embarrassing gasps from Seokjin. He’s so turned on he can’t think, a loud, high gasp coming from him as Suga slides his palm over the tent in his pants, the bolt of the door digging into his back.
“Hard already, huh?” he hums in his ears, voice sending pleasant vibrations and a shiver down Seokjin’s neck and making his toes curl in anticipation. He mouths at Seokjin’s ear which should be kind of gross but is instead gracing the top five of the list of the hottest things to ever happen to him.
“I don’t-” Seokjin cuts himself off with a gasp as Suga presses down on his dick, squeezing his thighs together. “I don’t see you doing much better.”
“Hm.” His smile is burnt into his collarbones as Suga pulls his shirt out of the waistband of his pants and slides his fingers up his chest. Seokjin jolts as he feels the coldness of the metal of his rings and watch burn into his impossibly hot skin.
“Jesus, give me a warning next time,” he hisses before he is gently tracing patterns over his nipples, the dull tingles making Seokjin throw his head back against the door with a soft thump, Suga’s lips blazing a path up his neck. “Ah, fuck,” he curses softly, knees shaking. He straightens himself up and pushes Suga away from him.
“We’re not doing this by your door! Be a little more of a gentleman, will you?” Seokjin scolds him. His face is flushed and his lips are swollen. He knows he looks a lot less than the epitome of grace right now with his red ears and neck, shirt practically half off his shoulders, and dick straining against the front of his pants but the way Suga’s eyes flick over his figure burns something in the pit of his stomach.
“I can be a gentleman, alright.” Suga’s voice is low and deep. It’s achingly familiar and so goddamn new to Seokjin. He hasn’t felt this wanted by anyone ever.
Suga leads him to his bed. His curtains are open and the night sky is dark and expansive, golden lights coming from various buildings glowing softly and casting highlights across his cheekbones. He’s beautiful, Seokjin thinks, heart jumping into his throat.
Seokjin’s back meets the uncomfortably cold yet soft comforter. He winds his arms around Suga’s neck as he crawls between his legs, panting into his mouth as Suga grinds his hips down and a burst of delicious friction travels up his dick.
“Wait, wait, stop,” Seokjin forces out. Suga pulls back immediately, expression concerned.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks. Seokjin feels himself soften even as he smirks up at him.
“I’m good, I’m good. It’s just that,” Seokjin drops his gaze purposefully, “I kind of want to suck your dick.”
Suga stills above him. His eyes are wide and Seokjin thinks he’s broken him for a good two seconds before he moves into action, rolling off of Seokjin and swinging his legs off of the bed. “I’d love that, actually,” he tells him, expression cocky.
Seokjin huffs out a laugh as he slips off the bed and between Suga’s legs. He looks up at him. Here, on his knees and forced to look up, Seokjin feels so in control of the moment. He knows his sway over the person over him. He slides his hands up Suga’s legs and unbuckles his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it behind him. His fingers hesitate over the zipper, pressing on the line and sliding down, pulling a huff of air from between Suga’s lips. He cups the tent, splaying his fingers over it and grinding his hand down, greatly enjoying the flutter of Suga’s eyelids.
“Get on with it already,” groans Suga. He slides a hand through his hair as he glares down at Seokjin. His Rolex glints in the dim light provided through the window. It’s weirdly hot.
Seokjin slides his zipper down and pulls his pants down. His boxer briefs are black and have Calvin Klein emblazoned across the waistband. Seokjin scoffs.
“Really?” he asks as he traces the words, amused. Suga doesn’t bother to grace him with an answer so Seokjin spreads Suga’s thighs and mouths over the center of his boxers, a stifled gasp coming from above him.
He teases Suga like that for a while, mouth hot over his inner thighs and clothed dick, wet spots from his saliva and Suga’s leaking precum turning the fabric of the boxers an even darker black. Suga’s hand comes down to his hair, protesting and tugging in the strands lightly as Seokjin takes his time working him up.
Finally, he’s had enough of the teasing and he pulls his boxers down to his pants. “Thank god. I thought I’d die of old age sitting here.”
Seokjin pauses to glare up at Suga. “I can leave you to die of blue balls here if you want.”
“No, no,” Suga says hastily. “Please continue at your own pace, sweetheart.”
Seokjin pulls a face at the pet name while his heart flutters. He turns his attention back to the more important task at hand- namely getting Suga’s hard, leaking dick inside his mouth.
Which he does so without any more preamble. Perhaps Suga was expecting him to continue to be more teasing in his approach because his eyes roll back and his whole body stiffens as Seokjin smoothly deepthroats Suga, nose touching his pelvis. He pulls back halfway to look up at him. His dick is by no means small, pretty above average, actually, but it gives Seokjin great pleasure to watch the warring confusion and arousal on Suga’s face as to how he was able to take all of him so easily.
“Fuck, you’re really something, aren’t you?” Suga rasps, thighs shaking from where they are bracketing Seokjin’s head. He grips Seokjin’s hair which pulls a half-moan out of him, eyelids fluttering as a mix of pleasure and pain travels through him. He pushes his dick across Seokjin’s tongue, groaning softly at the sight of it. Seokjin lets his mouth hang open for Suga to see how far he’s taking him, rubbing his thighs together as arousal zings through him.
“I’d love to fuck your pretty throat until you cry, sweetheart,” Suga says, voice throaty, “but maybe some other day. Why don’t you get up here so I can fuck you properly?”
Seokjin whines softly, pulling away from his dick and sitting up without thinking. Suga kicks away his pants and briefs and tears his shirt over his head, Seokjin watching appreciatively as the light catches onto his torso flexing and twitching.
“Raise your arms,” Suga commands and Seokjin does so without thinking. His shirt is pulled off of him and he’s tugged up, Suga’s hands coming to his hips as he joins their lips. Seokjin wiggles in his grasp as his pants are pushed down, Suga’s large hands splaying over his ass and squeezing his cheeks as they gasp into each other’s mouths.
Seokjin pulls away to adjust himself as Suga slides his rings off his fingers and unbuckles his watch, tossing them onto his side table and such a simple action definitely should not turn Seokjin on as much as it does. He scoots over to him as Suga reaches into his drawer to pull out a string of condoms and a bottle of lube.
“How do you want to do this?” Suga asks him as he settles against his pillows, Seokjin coming to straddle him. His eyelids close as Seokjin slides their dicks together, shuddering through the pleasure.
“Fuck me,” Seokjin gasps and then he’s being flipped over, eyes wide as he looks up at Suga. His thin silver chain hangs in Seokjin’s face as he reaches for the lube and Seokjin has a wild vision of it swinging around as Suga fucks him.
He pours some lube over his fingers and Seokjin spreads his legs, feeling oddly exposed as he lifts one of his legs up and props it on his shoulder for easy access.
“You’re flexible, too?” Suga asks admirably as he pushes Seokjin’s legs back and onto his chest. He slides a hand up the back of his thigh and Seokjins shivers, Suga’s gaze too intimate for him to be comfortable with it. No one’s looked at him like that in years. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I can’t make you fuck me faster,” Seokjin replies, not liking this soft atmosphere that had overtaken them. This snaps Suga back into action and he ghosts a finger over Seokjin’s hole, pressing down onto it and making it twitch, watching Seokjin’s face carefully with those dark, black hole eyes of his. His blond bangs flop onto his face and hang in his eyes. Seokjin thinks he’ll scream if Suga’s dick isn’t inside him within the next minute.
He tells him as such and Suga laughs at this, slipping a finger in up to its second knuckle. It’s a bit of a tight fit right off the bat because Seokjin can’t remember the time he had sex. His relationship with Junseo had been so cold the last few weeks leading up to their marriage.
Suga slowly moves his finger in and out of him, the lube’s squelching and Seokjin’s sighs the only sounds in the room. The lights of the city at night glow in Suga’s eyes as he adds a second finger, ducking his head to press kisses to the back of Seokjin’s thighs. Seokjin closes his eyes and whimpers as the sensations begin to tip from discomfort to pleasure, Suga sliding backward on the sheets to press his teeth into Seokjin’s thighs properly.
He arches his neck as a third finger joins the fray, circling around his rim and pressing against his perineum. Seokjin knows he’ll wake up tomorrow with purple thighs with how Suga is sucking at the meat of them, jolting as his mouth ghosts over his dick.
He adds a third finger as he takes Seokjin into his mouth. The pleasure balances out the pain of a third finger, Suga sucking tightly around his tip and drawing whines out of Seokjin as his fingers wiggle inside of him. Seokjin lifts up his second leg to fit it over Suga’s shoulders, hips lifting up and thighs pressing his cheeks as Suga takes him deeper in his mouth and with his fingers. He’s being loud, he knows it, grinding up into Suga and whining as he sinks his fingers deeper, deeper, brushing them over every sensitive spot Seokjin didn’t know he had.
Seokjin jolts and straightens his legs, gasping, as Suga angles his fingers into a certain spot. Seokjin can feel his smirk on the underside of his dick before Suga insistently begins grinding his fingers down into Seokjin’s prostate and Seokjin practically screams at the sensation, lifting his hips at the onslaught of pleasure, unintentionally forcing his dick down Suga’s throat. Suga chokes and withdraws his fingers, coming up coughing.
“Sorry,” Seokjin says apologetically. His dick hands spit-slicked and heavy between his legs, throbbing from arousal. Suga reaches out with and digs his fingernail into the slit, Seokjin’s legs slipping off his shoulders at the sensation.
“Okay, enough waiting,” Suga says. Seokjin turns over, bracing himself on his elbows and peeking behind himself to see Suga ripping open a condom and sliding it over himself.
“Ready?” Suga asks him, hand resting against the small of Seokjin’s back. His dick comes to press against Seokjin’s hole and Seokjin turns forward, closing his eyes and nodding.
Suga is silent as he comes over to press a kiss into Seokjin’s neck before he begins to slip his dick inside. It’s a bit of a tight fit and Seokjin’s toes curl at the sensation of being slowly filled and split over someone’s cock. He squeezes his eyes shut and wrings his hands in the sheets beside his head as Suga bottoms out.
Suga ducks his head and Seokjin hisses and curses as pain jolts up his spine. “Give me a second,” Seokjin gasps and Suga stills. His hands slip to his hips, rubbing comforting circles into his hip bones as Seokjin accustoms himself to the sensation.
“You can move,” Seokjin grunts after a few minutes that feel like hours. Suga’s shuddering breath by his ear sends a pleasant shiver down his spine, only exemplified by his fingers curling over his waist and his momentary pause.
“Suga?” Seokjin asks, tilting his head to look back. Suga is frozen, eyes fixed on his hands. “You good?”
“Oh my God, your waist is so tiny,” he says. He sounds wrecked. Seokjin stifles his giggle into the bed. “I can almost basically touch the tips of my fingers together- that’s so fucking hot, sweetheart.”
“You gonna fuck me or just stare at me all night?” Seokjin asks, confidence slipping over him again. Suga waits for a second or two before he draws halfway out and pushes back into Seokjin.
“Is this okay?” Suga pants by his ear. God, that should be illegal, his voice deep and wrecked and breath hot over Seokjin’s ears as he begins fucking slowly into him, more just pulling back and grinding deep than actual thrusts.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Seokjin chants in response, arching his back as he begins to up his pace. “Oh, fuck, Suga-”
Suga pulls out and pushes in harshly. Seokjin’s high whine being all the confirmation he needed, he begins properly fucking Seokjin, spreading his cheeks and pushing him up the bed from the force of his thrusts.
Seokjin sees stars as Suga hits his sweet spot. He moans high and loud and needy and feels Suga’s smirk in his neck before he’s fucking hard and harsh into him, his cockhead rubbing directly into his prostate and sending burst after burst of pleasure down Seokjin’s dick and pooling hotly in his stomach.
“Seokjin, sweetheart, you’re so hot,” Suga groans into his ear before sitting up and grasping his hips firmly. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re taking me so well- practically swallowing me up, look at you, fuck, so hot-”
Seokjin cannot for the life of him form a single coherent word much less a sentence as Suga’s cock continues to abuse his prostate. It’s too much- Suga’s deep voice, the firm, grounding pressure of his fingers on Seokjin’s hips, every thrust of his dick inside Seokjin pulling wrecked whines out of him. Before he knows it, everything in his body is drawing up and he’s coming untouched, tensing up and shaking and letting out high and throaty “ahh, ahhh, ahh”s as Suga fucks him through his orgasm.
Before he can reorient himself, Suga pulls out of Seokjin and flips him over. His own cum clings uncomfortably to his back but that is the least of his concerns as Suga lifts up his legs and presses them to his chest, thrusting back inside Seokjin and drawing a scream from him.
“Agh, too much, too much!” Seokjin whines as his legs are propped up on Suga’s shoulders, every inch of his body burning with sensitivity as Suga continues fucking into him. Suga starts slowing down and Seokjin grabs him to kiss him open-mouthed, tongues meeting.
“Don’t stop,” he pants as he pulls back, their foreheads touching. “Don’t stop, Suga.”
“Fuck,” Suga says before drawing Seokjin’s hips up and fucking hard and fast into him, Seokjin scratching patterns down Suga’s back and moaning and screaming as he loses sense of everything but him. “Fuck, you’re- you’re so beautiful.”
Seokjin sobs as his nails dig crescent moons into Suga’s back who groans as he comes, thrusting his hips forward and chanting Seokjin’s name as he hides his face in the crook of his neck.
Seokjin’s hand comes up to dazedly stroke Suga’s head. Suga presses kisses onto his neck before straightening up and pulling out and jerking Seokjin off until he comes for a second time, curling up into Suga’s body and clinging on to him as he rides the aftershocks.
For a while, they’re both too dazed to move. Suga curls his hand around Seokjin’s as they both lie there, chests heaving and minds quiet. Eventually, Suga gets up to clean them both up and Seokjin blinks at him sleepily as Suga rolls him over and away from their cum stains.
“You’ve got to get up, sweetheart,” Suga says. His eyes are fond and Seokjin enjoys the attention.
“Kiss me,” Seokjin demands, and Suga sighs indulgently before leaning forward and chastely pressing their lips together.
“You’re not moving, are you?” He asks. Seokjin shakes his head. “God, you’re lucky you’re cute.”
Suga crawls into bed with him sometime later. Seokjin is already half asleep so he lets him curl up next to him and wrap an arm around his waist. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” Suga says, grinning with his gums out. Seokjin kisses his jaw before slumping down onto the pillows, spent.
It’s the best he’s slept in years.
Seokjin wakes up slowly the next morning.
There is nothing he is aware of, and then several things at once- the heavy sheets draped comfortably over his body, the harsh sunlight streaming through huge windows directly onto his face, and the hand over his naked waist.
Hand over his waist. Hand over my waist, Seokjin thinks blearily and then startles as reality hits him like a ton of bricks, shrieking quietly and untangling himself from the body behind him and the expensive comforter that weighed at least as much as he did. He accidentally rolls too far, falling off of the bed and landing on the floor with an undignified oof, pain shooting up his spine at the movement. Seokjin quickly yanks some of the blanket down to cover his less-than-decent attire.
The sheets rustle and a head pokes out of them. A familiar button nose scrunches in distaste, eyes squinted against the glaring light. Seokjin stiffens- he must have been drunk out of his mind last night to not recognize the stranger that introduced himself as Suga to be-
“Agust D??!” Seokjin gapes up at him, quickly running everything that he remembered from last night over in his head. Not much- dressing up, going down to the bar, getting drunk, and ending up in fucking Agust D- elusive genius rapper and producer-’s bed. Agust D, who apparently had strong, slender fingers and a rumbling voice, a silver slim chain resting on his collarbones. Agust D, whose bed head was even worse than Seokjin’s, wild blond strands haloed against the morning light.
Suga- no, Agust D- glares down at him for a second before rolling back over with an unintelligible grumble.
Seokjin scowls and stands up, yanking the comforter off of him and wrapping it around himself. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” he exclaims. Honestly, he’s embarrassed. Agust D had recognized him so quickly and even though they didn’t exactly run in the same circles, he knew of him. Especially because of the three glossy posters Taehyung had of Agust D in his and Jimin’s apartment and that one song of his about sending both men and women to Hong Kong with his tongue he always played when he got to the aux cord before the rest of them.
Agust D- God, that’s a mouthful- glares at him. In the sunlight and out of his expensive clothes, he’s a lot less intimidating and suave but more of a twenty-something rapper with pale skin and dyed blond hair. Also, he kind of looks like a cat with his trying-way-too-hard-to-be-scary glare. “Didn’t feel like it,” he mumbles as he sits up, groaning and stretching. Seokjin adverts his eyes, blushing at the miles of milky pale skin presented to him, hyper-aware of his state of undress regardless of the comforter he has wrapped around him like it's a safety blanket.
Seokjin huffs out a breath. “I’m leaving,” he tells him before turning around, realizing that he isn’t going to get much out of Suga right now.
“Wait.” Seokjin stops and turns back. Suga runs a hand through his hair, revealing dark eyebrows. “I know you’re staying in this hotel, too. Let’s just go down to breakfast together so I can explain some things to you.”
Seokjin digs into his omelet as he waits for Yoongi, as Agust D had introduced himself formally, to return. He scrolls through Min Yoongi’s Wikipedia page with his other hand as he does, eyes fixed on rows of words like South Korean rapper, songwriter, and record producer, and Over 70 registered songs are credited to him by the Korea Music Copyright Association.
He switches off his phone as Yoongi draws near and pulls out his chair. “I’m older than you,” Seokjin says as a greeting. “You’re March ‘93 and I’m December ‘92.”
Yoongi looks taken aback before he scowls. “Three months,” he says.
“One year.” Seokjin points his fork at him, a perfectly-golden egg piece hanging off the edge. “That makes me your Hyung.”
Yoongi stares at him before shaking his head. “You’re really something, huh?”
“Thank you,” Seokjin says primly before shoving three-fourths of a chicken sausage down his throat in one go. “So, what’s the story behind Suga?”
Yoongi blinks. He takes a bite of his waffle and regards Seokjin with his intense eyes. Seokjin squirms. He doesn't like how a single glance from Min Yoongi makes him feel naked and not exactly in a sexy way.
“It was a proposed suggestion for my stage name,” he says finally. “Suga as in shooting guard,” he says the last part in English, “the position I played in basketball in high school.” He shrugs. “I really liked the name but wanted to include Daegu somehow so I reversed it and added DT for Daegu Town.”
Seokjin tilts his head. “Weirdly, it suits you.”
Yoongi grins. “How do you know if it suits me? You didn’t even realize who I was until this morning.”
Seokjin splutters. “I- what, no, that isn’t my fault! You looked different in the dark.”
“Is that so?” Yoongi hums. “You sure had no qualms going home with a stranger last night. What if I didn’t end up being a genius rapper but instead a serial killer?”
“I could say the same to you,” Seokjin challenges. Yoongi’s teasing grin takes him back to last night, to his legs over Yoongi’s shoulders, to writhing on his sheets, gasping-
Seokjin shakes his head to rid himself of the image. His perfect son-in-law image would not uphold if he popped a boner at a hotel breakfast.
“What are you doing here?” Seokjin asks, stabbing his fork into another sausage. The pink skin stretches and gives away satisfyingly under the metal.
Seokjin scoffs. “You know I didn’t mean that.”
“Then what did you?”
“What are you- nevermind.”
“I know why I’m here.” Yoongi leans back. “Why do you want to? I’m not asking you why you’re here.”
Seokjin chews his lip. It’s almost startling how he had completely forgotten about everything that happened to him while in the presence of Yoongi. As if nothing existed outside of their little bubble. As if what they did had no consequences.
“Well,” he begins hesitantly, “I think the whole world but you knows why I’m here.”
Yoongi’s eyes light up in recognition. “Hiding from a scandal?” he guesses.
“Something like that.” Seokjin shrugs. “What rock have you been hiding under? I’d love to join.”
“I don’t use my phone,” Yoongi tells him. “I’m on an indefinite break and the last thing I need is to open my phone to over a hundred notifications.”
“What, your management has let you take a break for this long?” Seokjin asks, shocked. He knows Yoongi hasn’t released music for almost half a year now.
Yoongi’s expression shuts off and Seokjin can physically see him draw back. “They don’t let me, I let myself.”
Seokjin regards him for a second. His hair is still wet from the shower he took before breakfast so that he’d be clean. Seokjin had gone back to his room to do the same, wearing Yoongi’s shirt and pants. He had thought it over in the shower- thought of Yoongi and his steady hands and quick words. Here, he’s not much different. Much smaller, though, shoulders hunched and wrist empty.
“What do you do here?” Seokjin asks. At Yoongi’s questioning glance, he adds, “I’m asking because this is sort of like a vacation for me and I have no idea what to do.”
“I just got here,” Yoongi admits. “I was in Singapore for a while before this. I’m honestly just as clueless as you are.”
“Great.” Seokjin sighs. “I was hoping you’d have some hidden tourist knowledge in there somewhere.”
“I do have the knowledge, I’m just not telling you because I don’t want to,” Yoongi says childishly. His foot nudges Seokjin’s. “How long are you here for?”
“Two weeks.” Seokjin sees no harm in telling Yoongi that. There’s a certain thing about moments you spend in hotels. It’s like whatever is happening at the moment is not quite real, like you could go down and eat every last thing in the buffet and still feel empty, like all the secrets you share with that guy sitting next to you at the ledge of the pool will never be told. “How long are you here?”
“Three weeks. Technically two and a half.” Yoongi puts down his fork and leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Why don’t we just show each other around?”
“What’s there to show?” Seokjin asks, bemused.
“Listen, both you and I don't know anyone here and that’s a fact.” He straightens up. “But we know each other, and we have a bunch in common, like how we’re both Korean and celebrities-”
“That’s literally all we have in common,” Seokjin says dryly.
“- and we both like dick, so-”
“Yoongi-ah!” Seokjin hisses with bright red ears, glancing around. “Quiet down!”
“-and we are both speaking Korean right now which the majority of Italians probably don’t understand.”
“So basically you’re saying instead of getting lost alone, let’s just get lost together.”
“Exactly!” Yoongi says. “No need for awkward introductions anyway.”
Seokjin considers it. “Hm, not a bad deal. It’s only for two weeks anyway and this way-”
“-we can both have some fun, too,” Yoongi says. The tilt of his smile tells Seokjin exactly what he is referring to as fun.
Seokjin blushes and smacks his arm. “Okay,” he says.
“Okay!” Yoongi says. “Travel buddies?”
Seokjin stares at his outstretched palm. “Travel buddies,” he agrees, shaking Yoongi’s hand. It is firm in his own and their fingers linger on each other for a second even after they draw away.
Seokjin breaks the tense atmosphere by clapping his hands and straightening up, doing his best to ignore his blush. “So!” he says. “Where do we begin?”