Chapter Text
Yoongi had a headache. Well, he almost always had a headache. This one just seemed to be more annoying and relentless than his typical variety of migraine. The pounding in his head had been steadily getting worse during the past few days and it was making it hard to think. The click, click, click sound of somebody clicking their pen nearby certainly wasn’t helping either.
“Would you cut that out?” Yoongi said sharply.
The room went silent and when Yoongi looked up all heads were turned to him. His face heated up as he remembered he was in a meeting. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to refocus, ignoring the questioning looks still being thrown his way.
“As I was saying,” Minho continued after a slight hesitation, “Many of these missing person cases are linked to one couple.” He clicked to the next slide to reveal a photo that looked like it was taken from an adoption agency website.
“Meet Namjoon and Jin Kim. Ultra-wealthy Caregivers, they made their money early from a tech start up and now regularly foster Littles. They are well-respected within the Caregiver community and according to our sources, don’t have even a spot on their record. However, 70 percent of Littles that have gone missing have been fostered by the Kims at some point. This makes them both people of interest. Since this is our only lead on the investigation so far, any information you can find on them is our highest priority.”
The room broke out into murmurs as people started talking amongst each other. Yoongi fought the urge to cover his ears. It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited about the development in the case. He, more than anyone, wanted justice for the Littles that had gone missing.
It was just that the voices were so loud and he could feel his head pounding in his ears. He rubbed his temples and tried to reign his focus back in.
“Their image is so polished,” said a voice. “It’s nearly impossible to find any dirt on them, let alone a reason for the police to begin an official investigation.”
“And we all know how private Little adoption services are.” A girl chimed in.
Yoongi recalled that her brother was taken from her family and “adopted”, so she knew a bit more about the topic than the rest of the team.
“Even if the agency knew something, there’s no way they’re letting that secret out.” She sighed and looked down. A girl to her left wrapped a comforting arm around her back and gave her shoulder a squeeze.
Yoongi looked around the room. Most of the people here had some connection to a Little, whether it was a sibling or a friend who had presented. Some had never even met a Little, but they joined because of their own sense of justice. There were even some who joined because they wanted to rebel against the government, and fighting for Little rights was simply an excuse to be a vigilante. Whatever the reason, Yoongi appreciated every member in the ragtag team of operatives. Not everyone got along all the time, but that’s just what happens when you put a bunch of strong-minded individuals in a room together.
“Fuck the rich,” said a kid in the back. He wore his hat backwards and his dirty hoodie sleeves rolled up to show off tattoos that looked suspiciously temporary. “Any illegal shit they do can just be covered up with money.”
A few heads nodded around the room.
“I have an idea.” Seohan piped up.
Yoongi groaned internally. Seohan always had an idea. And it was always entirely too reckless or stupid to consider.
“What we need is an inside man.” Seohan continued. “What if we recruited a Little in foster care?”
“That’s too risky.” Yoongi cut him off. He needed to nip this idea in the bud. “We need to remain secret in case you forgot, and we can’t trust anyone that we don’t know. It’s also too dangerous for someone untrained. We can’t ask this of someone who didn’t already volunteer, it’s not fair.”
Seohan scoffed. “You should know better than anybody that Littles are just as capable as anyone else. Besides, if you’re so worried about using an outsider, why don’t we just send someone undercover? I could hack into the system to make sure they get placed with the Kims.”
“That would never work.” Yoongi was getting agitated now. “They can actually tell if you’re not Little.” His head was pounding again.
Seohan shrugged. “So we send you.”
Yoongi’s brain short-circuited. The throbbing in his head vanished as memories he spent years repressing fought to resurface. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“It would be perfect.” Seohan continued, oblivious to Yoongi’s growing panic. “They would never suspect a Little.”
“I’m not going back to that life.” Yoongi said. It came out weaker than he intended. He clenched his fists tightly under the table.
“You wouldn’t be, hyung. Not really. Just quit suppressants long enough for them to get their guard down, and when you gather enough intel we pull you out.”
He said it like it was easy. As if he wasn’t asking Yoongi to willingly subject himself to the same abuse he ran away from. To be helpless to the every whim of a possible psychopath. Yoongi couldn’t do that again. He promised himself five years ago, never again.
“No. I don’t like it.”
“Face it, Hyung. You’re the best operative we have–”
“I’m not doing it.” Yoongi’s voice was rising in volume but he didn’t care.
“Why are you being difficult?” Seohan sounded exasperated, condescending. “It’s a good plan and you know it.”
Yoongi shot out of his seat so abruptly his coffee splashed on the table. “I’ve already told you no, and honestly, fuck you for asking.”
He knew, realistically, that Seohan didn’t mean any harm, but something about the way he was speaking to him, the condescending words he was using, really rubbed him the wrong way.
“Anybody else have any grand ideas?” Yoongi asked the now-silent room. “No? Then I guess this concludes our meeting.” Yoongi stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him.
He felt embarrassed approximately 2.5 seconds after his dramatic exit. Minho was definitely going to confront him about it later.
Minho was the leader of the organization and one of Yoongi’s closest friends. He was originally a civil rights lawyer, but after realizing how corrupt the justice system was, decided to dedicate his life to freeing Littles. He provided Yoongi with the resources and knowledge he needed to survive on his own.
Yoongi was so inspired by his work that he immediately volunteered to join the cause. That was five years ago. Since then, Yoongi’s fine-tuned skills and street smarts had made him an indispensable member of the team. He also happened to be the only Little in the organization, so the others valued his input. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been any other Littles before him, but the work proved to be too dangerous for most, and they decided it wasn’t worth the risk. Afterall, if they were to enter their headspace in the middle of an operation it could jeopardize the entire crew.
The suppressants Yoongi took dutifully ensured he would never enter headspace. He may be genetically Little, but he would never again be a liability. Despite the work his group and other Little advocacy groups were doing, suppressants still weren’t legal, so he had to go through certain less-than-legal channels to find them. After some trial and error, sifting through some medications that were scams and some that made him sick, Yoongi found a distributor that offered suppressants that were as strong as Yoongi wanted, no questions asked. They ensured he was completely cut off from his Little state and had zero chance of spacing.
Yoongi didn’t know many other Littles attempting to live independently, (it wasn’t even legal to do so), but he did know that most preferred spacing every once in a while, on their own terms. Yoongi preferred to not space at all. A friend once told him he was “nuking his entire endocrine system” by refusing to space. Yoongi laughed in his face. He would rather die than fall victim to his headspace again.
Yoongi grimaced as he stepped outside and was immediately bombarded with the full force of the sun. His eyes watered as they tried to adjust to the sudden light after being in the dark for several hours. Today’s meeting was in a basement that was musty, old, but covert enough to serve its purpose. It was a hassle finding a new place for every gathering, but it was necessary to maintain hidden from the police.
Luckily, today’s meeting point was on the same street as Chaewon’s coffee shop. After what happened today, it would be nice to see a friendly face. And another cup of coffee couldn’t hurt. Caffeine might be just the thing he needs to eradicate his ear-splitting headache.
*****
“Yoongi!” Chaewon greeted him from behind the counter.
The shop was busy this afternoon, the seating taken up by students hard at work on their computers and businessmen on their lunch breaks, still answering work phone calls. Everyone seemed to be minding their business, but Yoongi kept his hood up anyway.
As a little trying to live independently, blending in could be…difficult. His small stature, youthful face, and bright eyes tended to hint to others what his status was. Most people claim they could spot a Little with just a glance, and while that wasn’t necessarily untrue, there were things he could change about his appearance that would throw them off. In the five years that he had been independent, he had changed his style significantly. The way he styled his hair, his piercings, and his make-up all played a part in making him look more mature. Additionally, platform shoes and oversized, bulky clothes did wonders to make him look taller and less fragile.
Despite all that, people still tended to gravitate towards him, as if there was some biological urge to care for and protect him. Which, if the research was to be believed, was technically true. For those born as Caregivers, the instinct was even stronger. They were the hardest to convince, but Yoongi had adopted a few habits that caused even the most hormonal Caregiver to leave him alone.
One habit was making himself as unapproachable as humanly possible. Whenever he was in a public space he always had his hood up, headphones on, and nose in his phone, even if he wasn’t listening to anything or looking at anything on the screen. He kept to himself, and sat in corners or at tables with only a single chair. His outfits were nondescript, nothing that would catch the eye, nothing that could strike up a conversation about a mutual interest.
When all else fails, adopting a gruff, don’t-fuck-with-me vibe did wonders at deterring unwanted scrutiny. On the rare occasion someone did recognize him as Little, their assumption would be thrown into question as soon as they heard him talk or met his eyes. Yoongi put a lot of work into his resting bitch face. He likes to think it communicates a certain fuck you to anyone he encounters.
Yoongi turned off his RBF momentarily to flash Chaewon a small smile. He walked right up to the counter.
“One black coffee, please.” He didn’t need to look at the menu.
“Surprise, surprise.” Chaewon turned to start his order. “It wouldn’t kill you to try something different, you know.”
Yoongi shrugged. “I know what I like.”
Routine, predictability, and playing it safe: these were the rules that kept him safe and free. He didn’t venture far from his vetted spots in town and made sure every restaurant and shop he visited was unremarkable and free from the scrutiny of Little Protection Services. He came often enough for his visits to be expected, but not often enough to be a regular. The only times he ventured from his routine was for rescue missions, but even those were carefully researched and thought-out, with backup plans for the backup plan. The only place he could call himself a regular was here, at Chaewon’s coffee shop.
“Here you go.” She handed him a cup and watched him expectantly.
Yoongi took a sip and immediately recoiled. He wrinkled his nose and slammed the cup down onto the counter.
“What the fuck Chaewon?” he seethed.
Chaewon laughed. “What? It’s a vanilla latte.”
“I don’t like milk in my coffee.” Yoongi deadpanned.
“You don’t like milk, period.” She was still laughing.
Yoongi crossed his arms. His head hurt, and he was not in the mood.
“Okay,” Chaewon held her hands up defensively. “Here’s your actual order.”
She handed him a cup from behind the counter and studied him for a second.
“Hyung, are you alright?” she asked, concern coloring her tone. “You’ve been…kinda snappy lately.”
Yoongi took a long swig to avoid having to answer. He thought about the ever-growing threat of the Little police force, and how the government always seemed to be one step in front of him and his operation. He thought about Seohan’s teasing from earlier, and his own out-of-character overreaction. He thought about Jin and Namjoon Kim, and shuddered thinking about what might have happened to the missing Littles.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s this case. The disappearances. Everytime I think we are getting somewhere the lead goes cold. It’s making me feel…”
“Helpless?”
Yoongi looked up from his cup. “Yeah.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Chaewon said, ever the optimist. “You’re very resourceful, you’ll find a way.”
“Thanks.” Yoongi hummed.
Another customer walked in and Chaewon went to greet them. Yoongi watched her work for a few minutes as he drank his coffee. Chaewon was a good friend. She was one of the first people he met when he moved to this city after escaping his previous caregiver (if you could even call him that). She let him stay with her until he was able to find work and housing. Without her help, Yoongi isn’t sure how he would have survived those first few weeks.
Chaewon poured a few more drinks before returning.
“Are you still getting those headaches?” She asked suddenly. Yoongi wondered what she had been thinking about those past few minutes for this to be the first question on her mind.
He leaned his elbows onto the counter and looked deeply into his coffee, as if the correct answer to that question was somewhere in the styrofoam cup. She took his lack of response as an answer.
“You really ought to -”
“I don’t want to hear it.” He cut her off.
“Ok.” She was quiet for a moment. “Ok, hyung, I won’t pester you about it because I know you’ve got…shit to work through. But if you’re not gonna space–”
“Shh!” Yoongi looked around to see if anyone heard. Nobody was looking their way.
“If you won’t,” she said carefully, “You should at least talk to someone. You can’t keep ignoring your problems. You need to process things, because they’re not going away.”
Yoongi bristled. Without another word he pulled on his coat and threw out his half-finished cup of coffee.
“Goodbye Chaewon.” He said bluntly. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Yoongi–”
But Yoongi didn’t hear the rest of the sentence because he was already out the door.