I'm so sorry this took so long and is such a short chapter. It's been rough with starting this new job (which I love). That and my grandfather passed away almost four weeks ago and I'm still mourning and trying to regroup. Hopefully, I can get this story back on track soon. Thank you so much for still being here and supporting me.
Yoongi hates the heat, hates it every year summer finally rolls around. Groaning, she drags herself out of bed. Jaebeom’s already gone, already awake. She smells cinnamon from downstairs. Someone’s making breakfast, awesome. She stumbles over to the door, not bothering to change out of her bralette and a pair of Jaebeom’s boxers, her usual pajamas. It’s too hot to put on actual clothes. If she did, she’d probably melt. She snatches up a hair-tie from the dresser.
When she makes it to the kitchen, hair off her neck and back in a messy bun, she discovers Kiseok’s making cinnamon pancakes while Hyukwoo and Sunghwa play cards at the table.. That makes her smile, though she doesn’t look at him. She hasn’t been able to look Kiseok in the eye after Jaebeom killed that runner. She hates it, hates that she’s taking Kiseok’s words to heart. Jaebeom’s good to her, he’s always-
“What are you wearing?”
Yoongi jumps in surprise, though she’s smiling when she twirls around to see Jaebeom standing behind her. “Morning, babe~” she chirps happily, giving him a sweet kiss.
He nods, but he’s frowning at her. “Where’s my answer, baby?” Yoongi ignores the way her heart races at his tone. He’s changed somehow since that day. How, though, she can’t really put a finger on it. “What are you wearing?”
“Um, clothes?”
“Don’t you think you should cover up some more?” Jaebeom questions, raising an eyebrow, looking pointedly at her chest.
Yoongi giggles nervously as she covers her breasts. Her bralette is lace, she knows her nipples are probably visible. “No… it’s hot, Jaebeommie~” she says, her smile forced now. “I’m not going out, so does it matter?”
That was the wrong thing to say. Jaebeom’s mouth curls in displeasure as his eyes narrow. “Does it matter? Obviously not to you, Yoongi.” His cold tone makes her shiver. “But to me, it matters that my girlfriend is parading around a house full of guys in her underwear like some kind of slut.”
He might as well have slapped her. Yoongi flinches back at his icy tone. No, it’s not just his tone. The entire room feels like it dropped several degrees after his last statement. Out the corner of her eye, she can see Kiseok, body stiff in front of the stove, obviously listening, probably in case he thinks he needs to intervene. Tears well up in her eyes at the thought of someone needing to come between her and Jaebeom.
“I-I’ll go change,” Yoongi mutters, ducking her head in shame. She’s barely taken two steps when Jaebeom catches her by her arm.
“Why, because I said something?” Jaebeom asks. Roughly, her tugs her so she’s standing in front of him again. “If I hadn’t said anything, would you have just stayed like that all day? Let everyone who comes in to meet with me see you lounging about like a whore in a brothel?”
Her eyes burn as tears start running down her face. She wants to say no, he knows she always stays in her room when clients come over, but she can’t form the words. Why is he being so hurtful? Jaebeom never talks to her like this. Why is he so angry? What did she do wrong? Before she can ask or defend herself, there’s another voice speaking.
“That’s enough, Jay,” Kiseok says as he flips another pancake. His voice is soft, just barely loud enough to be heard across the room, but it’s firm.
As soon as Jaebeom lets go of her arm, Yoongi’s darting out of the kitchen to the staircase. She can hear Jaebeom walk across the kitchen as she ascends. She’s just reached the second floor when Jaebeom’s voice carries up from beneath her. He’s yelling at Kiseok. God, why is he yelling? Why did he change so suddenly? She slumps to the floor miserably, trying to block out the noise with her hands.
She wants her Jaebeom back.
Yoongi blinks slowly, taking in her surroundings as she wakes up. She’s in the attic. Did she fall asleep up here? She almost always sleeps in Jaebeom’s room. Yawning, she sits up, running her hand back through her hair, momentarily confused by the short bristles scratching her palm.
Oh. Right. Cursing, she throws herself back onto the bed, misery weighing heavy in her chest. Stupid fucking Jay. She hopes she at least left an ugly bruise on his face. Broodingly, she stares around the small attic. All her old decorations are still up: a calendar from last year still on October; her vanity with her hair brushes still lined up neatly on top, almost inviting her to get ready; then there’s the photostrips pinned up everywhere.
Photo-booths had been her and Jaebeom’s thing. Any time they went somewhere, if there was a photo-booth, they were getting pictures made in it. The poses were always different except for the last picture. For the last picture, they always kissed. It always made her feel giggly and light. Especially when they’d get the strips from the dispenser on the machine and Jaebeom would kiss her again.
She hates photo-booths now.
She slowly slides off the bed, wincing as she puts weight on her right foot. Right, she kicked the door last night. She winces as she looks down at it. It’s all mottled red and brown from bruising. At least it’s not broken. She walks gingerly over to the door, ready to test the knob again.
Except it’s already twisting open.
Yoongi jerks back, hands raising defensively in front of her in case she needs to fight. Who would be the best to fight? She doesn’t have time to think about it before the door swings open, revealing Kiseok on the other side. Immediately, her arms drop. “Wha…”
“Jay said to let you out when you calmed down,” Kiseok says with a shrug, stepping back to let her out.
This feels like a trap. “So what, that’s it?” She demands, except there’s no heat in her voice like when she talks to Sunghwa or Hyukwoo. “No telling me to go see Jay, no having to deal with any fuckery?”
The corner of Kiseok’s mouth twitches up in a smile. “Everyone else is still asleep. They’ll think you just managed to get the door open and escape… wouldn’t be the first time,” he says knowingly before turning around to walk down the stairs.
Yoongi watches blankly as Kiseok reaches the second floor then walks into his bedroom. It shouldn’t be this simple. She should feel suspicious… except she doesn’t. Biting her lip, she tiptoes down the stairs, carefully creeping down to the first floor. No one stops her. No alarms blare.
The sun’s starting to come up over the horizon, the soft rays of light illuminating the path away from the house as she steps onto the porch. She takes a deep breath. No one’s coming after her. It’s quiet, just like a normal Saturday morning should be, like nothing ever changed.. Sighing to herself, she runs a hand back through her hair before she begins the journey back to her apartment.
Yoongi takes a deep breath as she sets up containers of Chinese food on the island in her kitchen. She doesn’t do this, the whole warm, neighborly outreaching thing. This time is the exception, Namjoon is the one who told her about this job. She feels slightly obligated to do something nice in return, good karma and all that shit.
She’s just set out a couple plates when she hears the tell-tale sound of keys jingling. Swallowing gently, she rushes over to the door, peering carefully through the peephole. Sure enough, there’s Namjoon, messenger bag slung over his shoulder, loosening his tie as he unlocks his door. She pulls open her own door, the sound drawing Namjoon’s attention. He looks over his shoulder, thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.
“Oh, hey, Yoongi,” he calls cheerfully, turning to look at her fully. “How’re you?”
She can’t help but smile at his good mood. “I’m alright,” she says, running a hand back through her hair. “I, uh, I picked up some Chinese on my way in today, but I got way too much. You wanna come over for dinner?”
Namjoon raises an eyebrow as he pushes up his glasses. “Look at you, playing the friendly neighbor,” he teases. “That actually sounds amazing though. Let me change and I’ll be over.”
“I actually lock my door, so make sure to knock,” she shoots back, smiling at his laughter as he disappears into his own apartment. She closes her door so she can return to the kitchen. Her feet lead her to the freezer. Typical. She shakes her head. Even though it’s a celebration, no alcohol. Alcohol is for dealing with pain. Instead, she opens the fridge to pull out a couple cans of Coca-Cola. The metallic red gleams tauntingly in the dim light of her kitchen.
Her breath hitches. Quickly, she sets them on the counter, alongside everything else, with shaking hands. Not right now. She’s celebrating. Running her hands back through her hair, she glances over the spread on the counter. Drinks, food, chopsticks, plates, napkins. If anything else is needed, Namjoon will ask for it. Probably. Unless he’s just overly polite.
Speaking of politeness, or lack thereof, her mind wanders to the scene at the diner earlier. Sunghwa and Hyukwoo’s attitudes didn’t surprise her at all. Since she walked out on Jay and cut everyone close to him out, they’ve been cold to her. To be fair, she’s been cold right back. No, what surprised her was Kiseok’s lack of interaction.
Out of everyone in that house, Kiseok’s the one she regrets cutting out the most. He was like a big brother and the one she was closest to, other than Jay.
A loud knock at the door pulls her out of her thoughts. Sighing she walks over to the door, checking that it is in fact Namjoon before opening it. “Took ya long enough,” she teases, stepping back so he can come inside.
Namjoon chuckles, pushing the door closed behind him. His clothes are definitely more casual now, though not as casual as what she wore to his place the other night. She frowns at the fitted jeans and white T-shirt before shaking her head. “You’re not wearing your glasses,” she comments as they walk back into the kitchen to fix their plates.
“Yeah… they’re not actual prescription glasses,” he admits sheepishly, ruffling his dyed hair. “They just make me look more scholarly and serious. People tend not to take you seriously when you have dimples.”
Yoongi snorts as they start piling their plates with fried rice, orange chicken, and everything else in the different containers. “People never take you seriously when you’re cute, I know from experience.” She grabs one of the cans of Coke in the same hand as her chopsticks as she leads the way to the living room. It’s nothing spectacular. A small TV on a simple end table. A banged up coffee table in front of a dingy, worn out couch with mismatched throw pillows.
He hums in agreement, cheeks flushed for some reason, as they settle on the couch and start digging into their food. “Did you ever put in for that job at the school?” He asks curiously.
Nodding, she swallows a mouthful of food. “Yeah… that’s actually what inviting you over for dinner was for, as a thank you,” she admits with a small smile. “I interviewed this morning and got the position.”
“Yoongi, that’s fantastic!” Namjoon says with a broad grin, though it dims slightly. “You didn’t have to buy me food or thank me.”
“Except, I kind of did. You’re the one who told me about the position. I wouldn’t have known about it otherwise. I don’t usually check schools when I’m job hunting.” She shrugs. “Just figured I’d return a kind gesture with another one.” She pops a piece of chicken in her mouth. “Good karma ‘n’ all that shit,” she says around the mouthful.
Laughing, Namjoon nods, taking a sip of Coke. “So, do you want to walk with me to work on Monday?”
“Sure… that sounds nice,” Yoongi admits before reaching over to pick up the remote. “Wanna watch something?
Yoongi sighs as she sits on the edge of her bed, brushing out her long, silky hair. Jaebeom’s busy in a meeting. It’s probably not good. He was in a foul mood when Hyukwoo informed him who would be coming over today. Ji something, she didn’t catch his whole name. She overheard Sunghwa and Kiseok talking about it as she headed upstairs. The guy owes Jaebeom money, has for a few months now. Jaebeom doesn’t appreciate people taking advantage of him. She doesn’t blame him though. No one should take advantage of someone so generous and kind and-
She jumps at the almost deafening bang from downstairs. Curiously, she gets up from the bed and creeps down the stairs. She’s just reached the last step when the door to Jaebeom’s office flies open. Sunghwa and Hyukwoo march out, dragging someone… except he’s not struggling. His head hangs low, not even trying to keep it-
Gasping, Yoongi recoils at the sight. The man’s face is drenched in blood, still oozing from the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Oh god, the bang she heard, that was… She leans against the wall, her stomach doing flips as the metallic scent of fresh blood finally hits her. Oh god, it’s everywhere, streaked across the pretty hardwood floors. It hurts to fucking breathe, her chest feels so tight. It only gets worse when Jaebeom walks out of his office, his features steely. No, that’s not her Jaebeom, he never looks like that.
Dizzily, she finally stumbles off the last step onto the floor. Jaebeom’s head whips around so he can glare in her direction. She whimpers, backing up at the sight. Scary. Jaebeom isn’t supposed to be scary. His features soften almost immediately as he rushes over to her, the bottoms of his fancy high tops leaving tread marks in the blood.
“Hey, Yoongs, look at me.” he tells her softly, tilting her head up. Oh god, something wet and hot is sliding down her face. Just like that man’s. No, not man. Corpse. It was a fucking corpse that had its face drenched in blood. “Hey, baby girl, why you cryin’?” Jaebeom tries again, wiping away her tears. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”
No, it isn’t okay. There’s some weird, sour, almost sulfuric smell on Jaebeom’s hand, overpowering the comforting scent of his cologne. “I heard… I saw…” She sobs, not sure where to even fucking begin. “Jaebeom… there was a bang- no a gunshot , Jaebeom! He was shot in the head! Blood… so much blood…”
Jaebeom hums, pulling her into a tight hug. “I know, baby doll, I know,” he whispers, stroking her hair. “Had to do it though. Business, y’know?”
Jerking out of his embrace, Yoongi stares up at him fearfully. “ You shot him?” she questions, her voice barely audible.
“Yoongs… listen,” Jaebeom sighs, running a hand back through his hair. “That guy, Jiho, he was running for me. But he started skimming cash from the payments and pocketing it for himself, even though I was paying him plenty-”
“You could have given him a second chance!”
“Baby, that was his second chance,” Jaebeom says sadly. Oh no, she’s making him sad. He reaches out to take her hands, lacing their fingers together. She lets him. “I had to make an example out of him. If I hadn’t, what would stop the other runners from doing exactly what he did? It would ruin me. I wouldn’t be able to take care of you. Do you get that?”
It makes sense. Of course it does, Jaebeom knows what he’s doing. It’s still so terrifying though. Yoongi nods, squeezing his hands. “Yes, babe.”
Yoongi sits straight up in bed, gasping to catch her breath. Fuck , she hates that nightmare, that memory. That should have been her first clue Jaebeom, no, Jay was no good. It’s dumb, she needs to stop separating his actions and assigning them to Jaebeom and Jay. He’s the same person, aware of all of his actions. This isn’t Jekyll and Hyde.
Groaning, she looks over at her alarm clock. 2:39 a.m. Fucking. Yay. She sighs as she rolls off the bed, teetering a bit when she stands up too quickly. Never too early for some hard liquor to lull her back to sleep. She shuffles out into the living room, flipping on the TV as she heads into the kitchen, half-listening to whatever channel it’s tuned to.
“-Mayor Kim announces decision to run for reelection-” Pull out a bottle of whiskey. Slam the freezer door closed. “-occer team moves on to the semi-finals-” Set the bottle on the counter. Go to the cabinet. Get a glass. “-date on a murder investigation. The body that was found in the alley next to the Starlight Diner was identified as Park Jimin.”
Yoongi doesn’t feel the glass slip out of her hand. She doesn’t hear it shatter on the floor, sending shards of glass across the floor like ripples from a stone thrown in a pond. She doesn’t remember grabbing her keys or rushing out of the house. She does remember running. The brisk early autumn air fills her lungs. It almost burns. Just like how the concrete bites at her bare feet as she races across an all too familiar path. She doesn’t see the people staring at her, a scrawny girl with bedhead in a red bralette and black gym shorts.
Soon, too soon, not soon enough, that awful, terrible, beautiful gray colonial comes into view. She doesn’t even bother with the gate. Instead, she vaults over the low fence like a pro. She doesn’t want to slow down. It’s been too long. There’s not enough time. There’s no time left at all.
They always keep the stupid front door unlocked. She leaves it open before charging up the stairs, not caring how loud her feet pound against the wooden steps. Once she reaches the next floor, she makes a beeline for the bedroom right next to the office. Jay’s bedroom. She throws it open before storming into his room. How can he sleep so peacefully after all the shit he’s done?
God, it pisses her off.
All she can see is red.
She leaps on the bed, quickly straddling his stomach before the punches start flying, trying to hit everywhere she can: his chest, his arms, his face. His stupid, annoying, perfect, smug face.
“The hell?!”
There’s shuffling as he moves beneath her. Her blows don’t stop, not even when the bedside lamp comes on, illuminating the situation. It only stops when Jay grabs her by the wrists. Even with his muscles, his strength, he struggles to keep her still. “The fucking hell, Yoongs?” He demands, looking at her like he doesn’t fully believe she’s there.
“You’re such a fucKING ASSHOLE!” She shrieks, her voice rising in volume as she flails, fighting to get her arms loose. “I quit my job, I turned Jimin down, I did everything you fucking told me to do. You didn’t have to kill him , you miserable, low-life, fucking-” She screams, lunging at him.She’s crying again, hot tears of rage streaming down her cheeks,
Jaebeom leans back, eyes darkening slightly as the realization sets in. “If he was going to keep harassing you for a date, who knows what else he would ha-”
“I don’t need a selfish prick like you protecting me! I can take care of myself!”
Heavy, hurried footsteps tromp down the hall. Hyukwoo and Sunghwa both appear, still in their pajamas. They each grab one of her arms, pulling her off Jay with ease. Yoongi kicks her legs frantically, managing to get one good hit to Jay’s chest.
Jay sits up, sighing as he runs his hands back through his hair. He looks at Yoongi tiredly. If Yoongi cared, she’d notice the dark circles under his eyes. She doesn’t care. Hasn’t for a long time. “Take her to her room,” Jay says shortly. “We’ll let her out when she finally calms down.”
“You can’t just fuckin-” She doesn’t get to say much else before Hyukwoo and Sunghwa are dragging her out of Jay’s bedroom. Just like they dragged that corpse and so many others out of Jay’s office. Her stomach turns at the thought. It’s painful when they drag her up the stairs to the attic, throwing her inside before slamming the door shut.
Yoongi scrambles back to her feet, jostling the door handle. Locked. They fucking locked it from the outside. “Not this shit again,” she mutters before banging frantically against the wood. “Let me out! You can’t fucking do this to me! Fucking assholes!” She kicks the door, swearing loudly before she limps over to the bed. Jay was right, they kept it all clean, tidy, and ready for her, if she ever came back.
Slowly, her heavy breathing turns to sobs as she curls up on the bed. Jimin’s dead. It’s her fault. No, it’s Jay’s fault for being a possessive piece of shit. It’s not her fault. Steadily, her sobs soften as exhaustion finally overtakes her and she succumbs to sleep.
By the time spring rolls around, Yoongi’s moved into the house with the guys. They converted the attic for her into her own private space, complete with a reading nook by the intricate, circular window at the front of the house; a dresser filled with clothes for her, and an extremely comfortable bed with a simple wire frame. Well, she assumes it’s comfortable. She usually sleeps with Jaebeom in his room, enthralled with falling asleep in his arms and waking up in the morning still curled around one another.
She’s stopped running, surprisingly. She and Jaebeom usually spend their days together, unless he’s busy with work. She understands though. What he does is important. He helps people when they get in trouble or need something, just like he helped her.
Thankfully, he’s not busy today, so they’re down in the basement in the makeshift gym. They’re not using the treadmills and they’re not touching the weights, not today. Not that Yoongi usually likes doing either of those: she hates working out. She loves spending time with Jaebeom though. No, today, Jaebeom’s on the mats in front of the mirror, breezing through a set of push-ups while Yoongi counts from her place on his back.
“-orty eight, forty nine,” she counts, her voice lilted with happiness, “Fifty!” She slides off his back to stand beside him. “It’s not fair that you still did it so easily with me on your back!” She pouts, though she can’t help but smile when he stands. He’s not wearing a shirt since they’re not on a machine, leaving his gorgeous tattoos on display. Oh, who’s she trying to fool? All of him is gorgeous.
Jaebeom laughs, brushing back the wisps of her hair that fell out of her messy bun. She loves seeing him smile. “Babe, you weigh nothing,” he informs her teasingly. “I could bench press you in my sleep with no problem.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Yoongi fights back her smile to try to look intimidating. She doubts it’s working. “Okay then, Mister I’m-So-Strong, assume the position. I have something that’s going to make doing your workout harder.”
“Really now?” The corner of Jaebeom’s mouth curls into an intrigued smirk as he raises an eyebrow. When Yoongi just stares at him expectantly, he shrugs and goes down into a plank. “Well?”
Yoongi takes a moment to walk around him and admire his form. Strong, solid upper body and fucking skinny ass legs. She gets on to him for skipping leg day but he never listens. Once she gets back around, she sits on the mat in front of him. Carefully extending her legs, she slides under him until she’s face to face with his cute surprised expression. “For every push-up you do,” she tells him, trying her best not to grin. She’s trying to be serious. “You get a kiss. Let’s see how long you can stay focused.”
A pleased grin takes place of his shock as Jaebeom easily lowers himself down, pressing a kiss to her lips. Yoongi giggles as she watches him move back up into the starting position, savoring the warmth spreading through her chest as he gazes down at her tenderly. “One…”
They’ve just passed five when they hear someone clear their throat. Kiseok’s standing just in front of the staircase, smiling tightly at them. “Fun workout?”
Yoongi feels her cheeks flush as Jaebeom laughs. “What’s up?” he asks, still hovering over her.
“Hyukwoo just called. He and Sunghwa are bringing up a potential client,” Kiseok informs him blankly. “Figured you’d want the time to freshen up and be ready to intimidate.”
Jaebeom grins at that description as he jumps to his feet, reaching down a hand to help Yoongi to her own. “Sounds good.” He turns back to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Movie after I get done with this meeting?”
“Yeah, I’ll make popcorn,” Yoongi promises, forcing a smile. Kiseok’s words are floating in her head though. Jaebeom isn’t intimidating. Sure, he doesn’t always choose to help people, but that’s because they’re not deserving or actually in need of his help. One last smile then she and Jaebeom are kissing before he heads up the stairs.
Once the sound of footsteps fades away, she looks over at Kiseok, who is still standing there for some reason. “What’s up?” She asks him, playfully hitting his arm once she’s close enough. “Why so serious?”
“You need to break up with Jay.”
Yoongi jerks back as though Kiseok just slapped her. “Wh-what?” she stutters, eyes widening in disbelief. Kiseok is obviously Jaebeom’s right-hand, his best friend, how is he just telling her to ditch him? “Why are you saying this? Do you have feelings for me? Is-”
“What?” Kiseok cuts her off, looking bewildered. “What, no! You’re a kid.” He shakes his head before looking nervously over his shoulder. “That’s not the point,” he says lowly. “What I’m trying to get at his, Jay’s bad news.”
“How can you say that?” Yoongi asks brokenly, “Jaebeom’s so good to everyone-”
Kiseok cuts her off again, staring at her seriously. “Yoongs, I’ve known the guy much, much longer than you have. I’ve shielded you from a lot of the bad shit he’s done and he’s pretty much covered everything else.”
“If he’s so bad, why are you still around?” She demands. “Why are you trying to force me to leave if you’re staying?”
Sighing, Kiseok locks gazes with her. “Cause I’m in too deep,” he admits, “I don’t have a family and if Jay ever gets caught by the cops-” Yoongi wants to cry at the very thought. “-I’ll be hunted down and charged with pretty much everything he gets.” His eyes soften as he considers her. “You’re still so young, you could go to college, have a future, actually do something with your life. Cause you’re an accessory now to anything Jay does. He gets caught, you’re getting locked up too.” As he continues, his voice softens, “You wouldn’t be able to see your parents anymore either, kid. I know how often you call, that you promise to come try to see them soon. You won’t be able to do that from prison.”
Tears sting at Yoongi’s eyes as she glares at Kiseok, all of her insecurities swirling in her head. “Jaebeom loves me-”
“Love doesn’t hold you hostage and keep you from seeing the people you care about.”
“Shut up!” Yoongi screams, tears falling freely down her face as she glares at Kiseok. He looks so damn sympathetic, like he has any reason to feel sorry for her. “Just fucking shut up, you don’t have any damn right-” she chokes off with a sob, shaking her head as she pushes past him and races up to the main floor, the second floor, all the way up to her room in the attic so she can collapse on her bed.
Kiseok’s wrong. He’s so wrong, she can’t even fathom it. Jaebeom loves her, Jaebeom does what’s best for her, for them, right? She sobs, heavy and unbridled, into one of the plush pillows, but even that doesn’t muffle the sound of her woes and insecurities. She crying so loudly that she doesn’t hear hurried footsteps coming up that stairs or the sound of someone calling her name.
She feels a strong, familiar hand on her back, coercing her to look up from her pillow. Jaebeom’s staring down at her worriedly, gently reaching a hand to wipe away the vestiges of tears on her splotchy cheeks. “Yoongs, babe, what happened, why are you so upset?” He murmurs, frowning at her state.
Gulping back another sob, Yoongi shakes her head, pushing herself up so she can throw herself into Jaebeom’s arms. “Stupid shit,” she mutters, clinging tightly to him, only relaxing when she feels his arms wrap around her. “I love you, I love you so much.”
There’s a soft kiss at her temple. “Love you too, baby, don’t you ever forget it.”
“Well, Ms. Min,” Principal Kim Jaejoong says warmly, leaning back in his high-backed leather chair. Ms. Kwon (Boa, Yoongi had learned her first name at the beginning of the interview) is seated to his right, smiling brightly at her. Yoongi’s starting to think everyone who works at this school has to look like a model. Mr. Kim has stylish honey blonde hair and pretty, serious, big eyes that make him look like a real life anime character. “We’ll see you first thing Monday morning to get you settled into your new role.”
Yoongi nods, smiling in return. “Thank you for the opportunity,” she says, inclining her head before standing. “Have a lovely weekend.”
She waits until she’s down the street from the school to let out a loud, victorious laugh that earns her quite a few scandalized looks from other pedestrians. She doesn’t care though. She has a new job, she can continue supporting herself. Humming happily, she decides to go get a late breakfast in midtown. It doesn’t matter if the guys see her now, she knows they won’t go dragging her off to Jay if nothing’s new.
She just settled at a booth at one of her favorite diners (she frequents a lot of a diners since Jay hates them), sipping on her glass of orange juice, when she hears a voice that makes her choke.
“Yoongi? Is that you?” Jimin asks, looking surprised as he slides across in the bench across the table from he. He’s in casual clothes, his hair unstyled, which strikes her as odd.
Nodding, she coughs harshly, trying to get the juice out of her windpipe. “Why aren’t you at work?” she finally manages to croak out.
He shrugs, playing with the straw wrapper on the table. “Took some time off,” he answers evasively, raising an eyebrow. “What about you? I thought you moved a couple days ago.”
“Job fell through, unfortunately,” she lies easily, letting out one last weak cough. “I found another one at a school uptown though, so it’s all good.”
The sound of the bell ringing, signaling new customers, doesn’t catch her attention. What does catch it, however, is a low voice requesting a table for three. She glances out of her peripheral, heart dropping at the sight of Hyukwoo, Sunghwa, and Kiseok walking toward the table right next to their booth. Why the hell the universe has to push them into each other’s paths right now, she’s not sure. She can’t escape though, Jimin’s still talking.
“-ou’re in town, maybe you want to meet up for that date after all?” Jimin suggests with a shy smile.
Oh no. Oh shit, this isn’t good. The guys are right next to them and as soon as she speaks, they’re going to notice her. “Jimin,” she says softly, trying not to attract their attention, “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Jimin frowns, his forehead creasing as he blinks in confusion. “But… just a few days ago you agreed to a date,” he says, “Why is it different suddenly?”
“Circumstances are different,” she whispers, glancing around again. Shit, Hyukwoo’s looking over at them. He doesn’t know she dyed her hair though. Maybe he’s just being nosey. Hopefully he’s just being nosey. “Trust me, it’s better-”
“Shouldn’t that be for me to decide, Yoongi?” Dammit, why’d he have to say her name? She can feel the guys staring at them. “You know how I feel about you, you know how long I waited to ask you on a date, a date that you said yes to, if you don’t recall, and now you’re suddenly acting like none of that matters?” He shakes his head, looking at her determinedly. “One date, that’s all I’m asking for, just to see if you could feel the same.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t do that, not right now,” she tells him clearly.
Jimin nods, his jaw clenched slightly. “Then I’m not giving up, if there’s a chance in the future,” he declares before standing. “See you around, Yoongi.” Before she can stop him, he’s walking out of the diner.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she turns to glare at the table next to her. “Don’t any of you dare fucking tell Jay about this?”
“Why shouldn’t we?” Hyukwoo shoots back at her, “Jay’s not the one who abandoned us.”
“You fucking know why I left,” Yoongi fires back, gritting her teeth. “Don’t try to hold it against me that you decided to stay and work for that fu-”
Sunghwa interrupts her, his voice quiet, but firm. “It’s a moot point, I already texted Jay before your little admirer left.”
“God, you guys fucking suck,” she growls, fishing out her wallet to throw down enough money to cover her glass of juice. Luckily, she hadn’t ordered her food yet. She glowers at them one last time. Hyukwoo and Sunghwa hold her glare just as angrily, but oddly enough, Kiseok’s just staring down at the formica tabletop. This is insane, those three used to be her best friends before Jay pushed her too far. She shakes her head before storming out of the diner, good mood officially ruined.
Yoongi takes a deep breath as she stares at the mass of white brick buildings laid out in front of her. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought it was some sort of government building from the well-kept lawns, ornamental shrubs, and statues depicting long-forgotten figures that no one cared about anymore. She does know better, knows it’s the middle school where Namjoon teaches English.
She had decided on a black pantsuit with a plain red blouse underneath her blazer. Power colors. No pencil skirts, especially not after Jay’s comment about her wearing them yesterday. She’s not trying to be cute. The same black folder is tucked beneath her arm again, except this time it holds her résumé and cover letter. Not an end this time, but hopefully a new beginning. Her red heels click against the sidewalk as she approaches the first building, the statuary marble plaque engraved with the word ‘office’ shining in the morning light.
The tiled marble floors inside match the plaque outside. Veins of gray streak through the white in broad, dynamic, nonsensical patterns. Yoongi crinkles her nose in displeasure as she takes in the office: White suede couches tucked away in the corner, one against each wall, framing a white wood coffee table; marble shelves inside white wood display cases, showing off all the various awards the school has won; and the front desk, a stretch of white wood from wall to wall, except one of the walls topped with a matching marble counter. Everything’s a perfect match.
She hates it. It feels fake. It looks like a blank canvas waiting to be filled with color. It reminds her of a doctor’s office: sterile. She can practically smell antiseptic. In her black and red outfit, she feels like the embodiment of sin, like she might leave a stain on anything she touches. She approaches the counter, the desk. She can see the entrance into the little office space, connected the the hallway the door to her left. No one in sight, the white, faux leather chair behind the desk empty.
“Hello?” She calls into the emptiness.
Barely a moment after she speaks, the door behind the desk opens, An immaculately dressed woman comes into the space behind the desk, shooting Yoongi a dazzling smile. “Hello,” she greets, her pale pink sheath dress accented with a braided white belt fastened around her waist. “I’m Vice Principal Kwon, how can I help you?”
“Min Yoongi, nice to meet you,” Yoongi responds, taking Ms. Kwon’s extended hand, taking note of her perfect French manicure as she gives it a firm shake. “I heard about your vacancy for the receptionist position. I’m here to apply.” As she hands over her folder, she notices Ms. Kwon’s smile become forced, her eyes flitting up to her hair.
“Yes, well, we’ll add it to the pool…” Ms. Kwon trails off as she flips open the folder, her eyes scanning over the paper inside. “You worked for Prospere Corp?” She asks, clearly stunned as she looks back up to Yoongi. They’re one of the top businesses in the country. Why would you resign from there?”
Yoongi shrugs, forcing a smile of her own. “Just ready to take on a new challenge.”
“Indeed,” Ms. Kwon murmurs as she closes the file. “Well, as part of the employment here, you’re required to have a naturally occurring hair color: black, brown, blonde, or auburn. Gray, silver, and white are only acceptable if caused by age.” She closes the file before smiling. “Dye your hair and come back tomorrow at nine o’clock sharp for an interview and I’d say you have this job in the bag.”
Yoongi thanks her before leaving. Perfect. The applicant pool must be full of overprotective moms trying to keep a closer eye on their kids. She sniggers to herself as she walks out of the school gates. First though, she needs to take care of her hair. Humming thoughtfully, she glances around. She’s not terribly familiar with uptown. She figures all of the salons are good though. Downtown doesn’t have any salons, nor does her neighborhood, and she might run into one of Jay’s goons, or even Jay himself, in midtown.
Finding one is easy. She ducks into the first one she comes across. Close to three hours later, her hair has become a yellowy platinum, bright like midday sunlight, but obviously blonde. It’s perfect. Humming happily to herself, she begins the walk home, debating what she wants to grab for lunch, It’s sunny, slightly breezy and she can feel summer slowly drawing to a close and the whispers of autumn beginning to drift through the air.
Yoongi ends up spending more and more time at the gray colonial as summer fades into autumn and autumn falls into winter. Every time she’s over now, Jay emerges from wherever he’s been hiding to hang out with her and the guys. She finds it flattering, honestly. He’s so handsome and powerful and for some reason choosing to put his work to the side to spend time with her.
Other than that kiss, he’s kept his distance, occasionally patting her shoulder when he walks by her, pulling her into a one-armed hug when he sees her for the first time that day and when she leaves; and exchanging high-fives when she burns one of the other guys. She doesn’t have a lot of physical contact with him. Kiseok seems to be blocking her from it. Why, she doesn’t know. Jay’s great to be around. He’s witty, funny, sarcastic, and makes her feel welcome.
A few nights before Christmas, she, Kiseok, and Jay are in the living room. There’s a fire crackling merrily in the stone hearth. Five stockings hang from mantle, the one on the far right a soft pink, much different from the red stocking on the opposite end and the three green stockings that fill them middle. Jay had teased her as he hung the pink one, saying it was for her, she was part of their family now. She had blushed furiously, hitting Jay’s arm and muttering for him to shut up.
They’re watching a movie. Well, Yoongi and Kiseok are watching a movie, eyes trained on the screen above the mantle. She’s in the middle of the two of them on the couch. Out the corner of her eye, she can see Jay studying his phone, essentially ignoring the TV. She wonders why he’s even in here then. Hyukwoo and Sunghwa had bailed when they suggested a movie.
“Hey, Kiseok,” Jay speaks up, grabbing the remote so he can turn down the TV. “Some of Im’s guys posted pictures online and they’re in our territory. Go take care of it.”
Kiseok looks over at Jay uneasily, glancing around the empty room before looking at Yoongi. “Right now? Can’t it wait till-”
Yoongi cringes back into the couch cushions as Jay glares at Kiseok. “Wait until what?” He asks softly.
An answer never comes. Kiseok sighs as he gets to his feet, ruffling Yoongi’s hair and promising to be back soon. She calls out a cheery ‘be safe!’ after him. After she hears the door close, she turns to Jay to ask him to turn the movie up again. Except Jay’s no longer leaning against the armrest of the couch. He’s right beside her, brushing her long, black hair away from her face,
Yoongi feels the heat rise to her cheeks. Jay’s looking at her so attentively, so affectionately. It’s an odd feeling, making her chest flutter. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”
“‘Cause,” Jay murmurs, his lips curling into a handsome smile. Everything about him is handsome. The light from the fire casts him in a warm glow, his nose stud twinkling in the light. It flatters him, everything flatters him. He’s perfect. “Have I told you how glad I am that you joined? That I got to meet you?”
She shakes her head , biting her lip as she considers him. “I’m glad I joined,” she whispers. She doesn’t know why she’s whispering. Kiseok’s out on that assignment and Sunghwa and Hyukwoo are who only knows where. “It feels like freedom here.”
That makes him chuckle as he bring up a hand to stroke her cheek. His hand is cool against her flushed skin and she leans into the touch. “I’m glad you’re here… with me,” he admits quietly. Yoongi feels her heart pick up speed as he looks into her eyes, warmth and sincerity evident in his gaze. “You’re so amazing, Yoongi. You’re strong, clever, and so, so beautiful.” He lets out a soft huff of a laugh. It’s then she notices the faint pink dusting his cheeks. “You’re so perfect, Yoongs, and… I love you.”
Yoongi doesn’t remember saying anything. The next thing she can recall is closing the gap between them to kiss him heatedly, her hands sliding up his chest to grab at his shoulders. He returns the kiss, one hand curving around her tiny waist, the other still cradling her cheek.
When they break apart, Yoongi rests her forehead against his, smiling brightly. “I love you too, Jay.”
He shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Real name’s Jaebeom,” he murmurs, “Call me that.”
That draws a giggle from her and makes him smile fondly at her. “Okay, Jaebeom.”It’s perfect, holding each other while they bask in the heat of the fire and the beauty of a new relationship. Absolutely perfect.
“You’re kidding, right?” Yoongi gripes as she glares at Sunghwa from the passenger seat of the the car. He had caught her in the short stretch she had to walk through midtown to get back to her neighborhood. “What, do you guys get extra brownies points or some shit for bringing me to him?”
“Only when things change,” Sunghwa says with a shrug. “You dyed your hair again. He’s gonna wanna see it.” Yoongi grumbles about just sending him a picture, which just makes Sunghwa scoff. “Like you’d actually send him a picture.” He shakes his head, turning left onto the road leading to the house. “You changed... both of you did.”
Yoongi closes her eyes at that statement. After what happened, she had pretty much bailed on the rest of the guys, eager to put as much distance as she could from anything to do with Jay. “That’s what people do,” she answers softly, no heat behind the statement.
Just like Kiseok yesterday, Sunghwa pulls up to the curb of the cul-de-sac to let her get out. She walks slowly up to the gate, hoping to hear the car drive off. No such luck. She sighs, shooting Sunghwa a bird without looking back.
She hesitates in the foyer once she’s inside, carefully pulling off her heels. If Sunghwa’s out on the streets, Jay’s not meeting with potentials. Realistically, he should be in the living roo-
“You dyed your hair.”
She looks up at the stairs. Jay’s slowly descending, looking like he just woke up. His hair is sticking up on one side, the rest is just a ruffled mess. He’s not wearing a shirt, but has on loose sweats. Yeah, he definitely just woke up. Sunghwa probably texted him to tell him Yoongi was here.
“Yeah, I did,” she answers, crossing her arms over her chest, taking a step back as he reaches the floor. “Have a job interview tomorrow and they only accept natural colors.”
Jay frowns, mumbling ‘that was fast’ before he studies her, his frown deepening slightly. “It’s better than the silver,” he mutters, scratching the back of his head. His other hand moves up to cover his mouth as he yawns. “Should’ve went back to black though.”
“Okay, you saw I dyed my hair, you know I have an interview, are we done?” Yoongi questions. “I still can’t believe you have your guys swoop me up and drop me off here every time I change something.”
“Need to know you’re doing okay,” he answers softly, rubbing at one of his eyes. Oh yeah, he just woke up, all the signs are there. “Said I’d keep you safe.”
Oh. “Well-” Fuck, her voice cracks. She clears her throat before trying again. “Well, you already fucked that up, so I’m leaving now.” She turns, carefully putting her shoes back on before she heads toward the door
“Wait… Yoongs.” Shit. She doesn’t know why, she really doesn’t, but she turns around. Jay’s looking at her sadly. “Will you come around more? Without the guys forcing you?”
It’d be so easy, so easy just to run back to his arms and say everything’s okay, to pretend none of the bad things ever happened. She’s tempted to, especially when he’s like this: raw, vulnerable, soft. The side of him that only she ever got to see, not the stupid, arrogant, possessive jackass he pretends to be. The bad things did happen, though, and they outweigh the good things.
“No, Jaebeom,” she answers quietly, turning back to the door and walking out. He doesn’t run after her, didn’t the first time either.
It’s unbearably hot outside, unreasonably hot for this early in the summer. Her parents think she’s off hanging out with one of her high school friends. Yoongi doesn’t even remember who she said she’d be with. She’s quite a few neighborhoods away though, in a big gray house where she usually picks up deliveries. Today, however, she doesn’t have any deliveries. Instead, she’s in a pair of shorts and a crop top, hanging out with Kiseok and some of the other guys who actually work for Jay, not through his people.
“C’mon, don’t be so fuckin’ stingy!” Yoongi laughs, trying to grab the bottle of beer out of Kiseok’s hand.
At first, Yoongi had been hesitant when Kiseok had contacted her after their first meeting. After all, it’s one thing to do odd jobs: paint fences, unload furniture, walk some dogs, that sort of thing. It’s completely different to be given a list of locations to drop off bags of different drugs and pick up the cash for them. Once she saw the payoff after her first day, she didn’t give it a second thought.
Even though prom’s long over, she’s still running for Jay, whoever he might be. She loves it, loves the thrill, loves the danger, and has even grown the guys she gets her assignments from. Sunghwa mostly keeps to himself, throwing out witty one-liners that keep her cracking up; Hyukwoo is full of laughs and jokes and always suggesting they get food; and Kiseok has practically taken her under his wing, like an older brother.
“No way,” Kiseok tells her, grinning as he leans back to keep the bottle out of her reach. “You’re just a baby. This is a grown-up’s drink.
Yoongi whines that she’s eighteen, ignoring the cackling of the other two at Kiseok’s words. Pouting, she drops her elbows to the smooth marble of the island top, glaring at him. “You suck,” she mutters, resting her chin in her hands.
Kiseok chuckles as he goes to respond, eyes drifting over to the entryway. He tenses, hands dropping to his side, hand clenching tightly around the bottle. Yoongi frowns as he steps away from the other side of the island to make way for a new comer.
Tanned skin and tattoos are the first thing that registers in Yoongi’s mind. She can’t see all of them: some are hidden beneath the tank top covering his torso. Her eyes trace up the stars on his neck before making it to his face. He has a nose ring. She can see the diamond twinkling against his skin. Biting her lip, she takes in the rest of his features: the messy black hair, the curve of his jaw-
“Want it?”
She jerks back to reality as she notices he’s holding the beer Kiseok had just moments ago, offering it to her. Nodding, she reaches out to take it, scowling when he pulls it back at the last second.
“If you want it, you gotta do something for me first,” he informs her with a smile that only serves to make him more handsome.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Yoongi demands, oblivious to the other three guys’ panicked, frenzied gestures as they try to catch her attention.
“I, actually,” the man replies with a chuckle, “am the man you’ve been working for this whole time.”
Gasping, Yoongi draws back, eyes wide. “Jay,” she whispers almost reverently, staring at him in awe. She’s not sure what she expected, honestly. Maybe some, old balding fat guy with cigarette breath. Definitely anything other than the stylish Adonis standing on the other side of the island.
“That’s right,” Jay smirks. “So… I’ll give this to you,” he says, holding up the bottle and waving it slightly. “If….” He bring his other hand up, showing off the tattoos on the back of it as he taps his lips. “...you give me a kiss.” He sets the beer to the side, leisurely leaning across the island expectantly.
Yoongi nods, swallowing nervously. She can do this. It’s just a kiss. Except she hasn’t kissed anyone before. Her tongue darts out, dragging across the dryness of her lips and why the fuck does she not use chapstick like she should? Bracing herself, she leans forward, pressing her chapped lips against his soft ones, trying ignore the chills running down her spine as she feels him smile.
Yoongi groans as the lift opens on her floor, practically toppling out. No one’s hiring: it’s like being a teenager again. Except this time, there's no one to go to for help. She’s carrying her heels in one hand, wincing with every step she takes. She needs more comfortable dress shoes. That has to wait though. She has barely enough money stashed away to cover rent for the next couple months, even less if she still wants food.
Not for the first time, she curses Jay under her breath as she comes to a stop in front of her door. Her keys jingle as they escape the confines of her skirt pocket, drowning out the sound of the door behind her opening.
“Hey.”
She jumps at the voice, cursing as she drops her keys. “Who in the fucking hell-” She cuts off as she turns around, seeing Namjoon scratching the back of his head sheepishly, standing in the doorway of his apartment.. “I gotta get you a fucking bell,” she mutters as she leans down to grab her keys. When she stands back up, he’s still there. “What?”
“I just… I realized that I still don’t know your name,” he admits with a half-smile, “And my neighborly etiquette hasn’t evolved from dorm life, so I figured I’d ask if you want to join me for dinner.” At the blank stare she gives him, he quickly tacks on, “I ordered pizza, if that’s-”
“Yoongi,” she interrupts him wearily, running her fingers through her silvery bangs. “My name’s Min Yoongi and… sure, why the fuck not,” she agrees with a weak smile. Anything to get the thought of Jay out of her mind, to hell with worrying if this guy is actually some psycho killer. At least if she’s dead, she doesn’t have to deal with Jay. “Lemme get out of the secretary get-up and I’ll be over.”
For a split second, Namjoon looks stunned. He breaks into a huge grin (god, those dimples) before letting out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, okay, awesome. Just come in whenever you’re ready, the door will be unlocked.”
Nodding, Yooni gives one last weak smile before disappearing into her apartment. Once the door closes, she sighs, dropping her heels beside the other shoes lined up beside the wall. Well, she muses as she walks back to her room, at least she won’t have to be alone with her thoughts.
It only takes a few seconds for the skirt and blouse to be shed in favor of yoga pants and a loose tank top. She decides to forgo shoes: she’s just walking across the hall after all. Stepping out of her bedroom, she glances between her kitchen and the front door. Should she bring something? She doesn’t know how this fucking works. Biting her lip, she goes into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the freezer and the two-liter bottle of Cherry Coke off her counter.
She doesn’t give herself time to think about going across the hall. With the whiskey grasped in one hand, the Coke tucked in the crook of her elbow, she locks her door with her keys before turning and marching into his apartment. She knows, in theory, that his apartment has an identical layout to hers. When she walks through the door, though, it feels… more welcoming. She frowns as she steps on the mat behind the door, glaring down at the words ‘wipe your paws,’ complete with dog and cat paws decorating it.
Gross.
She ventures into the living room, where Namjoon is waiting on the couch, flipping through the TV channels and muttering under his breath. Yoongi can’t help but crack a smile at his behavior before approaching the couch and setting her offerings on the coffee table. “I brought drinks,” she announces.
Namjoon flinches so hard at her sudden appearance that he manages to fall off the couch. “Oh, hi,” he greets awkwardly from his place on the floor. “Um, thanks.”
Shaking her head, Yoongi holds out a hand to help him up. “You said come in,” she reminds him as he takes her hand. It’s broad and feels strong, warm but not sweaty, and maybe just a little rough? She steps back, tugging to give him the momentum to get back on his feet.
“Y-yeah, I know,” he says, swaying once he’s back on his own two feet. His hand is still holding hers. “I didn’t actually expect you to show up. Everyone here seems...sketchy.”
Yoongi clears her throat sharply, letting go of his hand so she can pull away. Namjoon’s cheeks flush but she starts talking before he can start rambling apologies. “Everyone here is sketchy,” she confirms, “You seem to be the only genuine person here.”
Namjoon frowns, tilting his head as he looks at her. Anything he was going to say gets interrupted by a loud, impatient knocking. He bolts at the sound, running around Yoongi to go answer the door. Sighing, Yoongi settles gently on the edge of the couch. Faintly, she can hear Namjoon talking to who she assumes is the pizza man. Curiously, she glances around.
There’s a desk in the corner with an open, but turned off, laptop sitting in the middle of it. Towers of books surround the computer. On the floor next to the desk is the black messenger bag he had when he left this morning. Her eyes drift across the TV on its stand to the opposite wall, where a humongous bookshelf sits proudly, laden with enough books to furnish a library.
Damn. Teacher indeed.
“-epperoni with bacon, is that cool with you?” Namjoon’s voice carries into the living just before he walks in, carrying a pizza box emblazoned with a scene of an empty terrace on the top.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Yoongi answers, snapping back to herself to look up at him. “Would you mind grabbing some glasses?” She asks, watching as he walks around the couch to set the box beside the bottles. “I’d rather not choke to death in your apartment.”
Namjoon laughs before agreeing. “Imagine how high my rent would go,” he chortles as he walks toward the kitchen. “I might as well move uptown!” he calls back over his shoulder.
Despite herself, Yoongi grins as she flips open the box to reveal the most delicious looking pizza she’s ever seen. Humming happily, she reaches into the box to grab a slice.
“Starting without me?” Namjoon questions as he walks in just in time to see her take a huge bite out of her first slice.
Yoongi nods, watching as he sets the glasses on the table before falling back onto the couch next to her. “You took too long,” she explains after she swallows. Once her first slice is devoured (she was hungry, okay, she hasn’t ate since breakfast), she grabs the Cherry Coke, pouring some in each glass. “You want booze in it?” she questions, holding up one of the cups for Namjoon’s consideration.
Namjoon smiles and shakes his head, reaching out for the glass. “Best not,” he says. After he takes a sip, he says, “It’d probably be a bad idea to show up to work on my second day with a hangover.”
“Glad I don’t have that fuckin’ problem,” Yoongi mutters, pouring a healthy amount of whiskey into her glass before taking a huge gulp of it.When she sets her glass down, she sees Namjoon staring at her in confusion. “What?”
“You don’t get hangovers?” He says it so innocently that Yoongi has to bite back a snort.
“Nah, I get hangovers like a bitch,” she explains, taking another drink. She should make a drinking game for being around this guy. Anytime she confuses him, take a drink. Anytime she notices his dimples, take a drink. If she keeps hanging around him, she’ll have a full list in no time. “I meant I don’t have a job.”
Namjoon frowns. Yoongi takes the lull in conversation to grab another slice of pizza. “You called your clothes earlier a ‘secretary get-up’ though,” he says. Yoongi notes the cautious tone of his voice. Add a drink for every time he doesn’t outright ask something. She takes a sip of her drink. “Sorry, I just kind of assumed-”
“I had an office job,” Yoongi cuts him off as she finishes her second slice, eagerly reaching for a third. “I got laid off today when I went in,” she lies. “I spent the day looking for a new job, but no one’s hiring. Surprise, surprise.”
Silence fills the space between them as Yoongi polishes off her third slice to Namjoon's first that he’s still working on. “Well,” he says slowly, hesitatingly (avoiding. Yoongi takes another drink). “... well, I don’t know if it’d be your thing,” he continues, looking over at her almost nervously, “They’re looking for a front desk secretary at the school I teach at, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”
Yoongi tenses at the suggestion. Honestly? It sounds too fucking good to be true, especially if she manages to get it. She can deal with people easily and there would be hardly anything to the job. “Yeah… thanks for mentioning it.” She turns to give him a grateful, albeit forced, smile. “Can you give me the name of the school?”
Once she has the name of the school scribbled on a cat-shaped sticky note (teachers, she swears), she takes to her feet. “You probably need to head to bed soon,” she comments awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. “Thanks for the food.”
“Don’t you want to take your drinks back with you?” Namjoon questions, eyeing the bottle of whisky before looking at her.
Yoongi shakes her head, silvery strands falling in her face. “Nah, Imma just leave ‘em here,” she says, flipping her hair out of her eyes. “Might need it if we have another one of these nights. Only two sane people in this complex? We gotta stick together.”
She smiles at Namjoon who just stares at her blankly for a moment before grinning broadly. She fights the urge to pick up her cup for another drink. “Night,” she says before turning around, her smile growing a bit wider when she hears him call ‘good night’ after her.
Yoongi sighs as she zips up the side of her skirt, taking care that her mint blouse is tucked neatly into it. Last day of work, have to make a good last impression. She laughs bitterly to herself, brushing back her bangs before picking up a small bow, clipping back her hair to keep it out of her face. She looks perfect, she looks normal, she looks employable, all of which she’s going to need since she’s going hunting for jobs after Jay’s finished with her.
Grabbing a black folder from the nightstand, she hurries out of her bedroom, heels clicking on the laminate wood that spreads through her entire apartment. She has to get to the office and get this all over with. Like ripping off a band-aid.
She steps into the hall, closing her door behind her and taking care to lock it. She’s had a couple break-ins while she’s been living here, she doesn’t want to make it easy for them. She slides her key out of the lock, slipping it into her pocket. Taking a deep breath, she turns, somehow managing to run right into someone.
“Hey, watch whe-” she stop abruptly as deep, rambled apologies drown out her own voice. Frowning, she takes in the black slacks, the pressed dress shirt, a tie decorated with Pokeballs, before finally reaching the guy’s face. “Namjoon, right?” She asks.
He nods sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Y-yeah. Sorry, I didn’t-”
“Shut up,” she cuts him off, rolling her eyes. Her eyes drop from his perfectly styled hair to the messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. “Work?” she asks as she starts walking toward the elevator.
In only a few steps, he’s already caught up to her. Damn, long-legged bastard. “Y-yeah,” he stutters, stepping into the elevator beside her once it arrives. He presses the ‘G’ button before straightening up. “Literature teacher at the high school uptown.”
“If you’re working uptown, why do you live in this hell-hole?” Yoongi asks, not taking her eyes off the numbers counting down to the ground floor.
Namjoon laughs, drawing Yoongi’s attention. He smiles, showing off his dimples. Dammit, he’s kind of adorable. “I’m broke as hell, so I thought it might be a good fit.” He smiles at her before looking away shyly to check what floor they’re at. “I just graduated last week.”
“Oh, I thought you were younger than me,” Yoongi comments offhandedly, “I’m only twenty-one.”
“Then I am younger than you.” At the confused glance, Yoongi shoots him, he clarifies, “I got my associate’s while I was in high school ‘cause of a program my school offered. I only had two years for my degree and did my certification while I was in college.”
The elevator helpfully alerts them of their arrival to the first floor. Yoongi practically runs out, tossing a quick ‘bye’ over her shoulder, barely catching Namjoon’s ‘see you later.’
Even though living in the worst part of town has plenty of downsides, one of the reasons Yoongi keeps living here is because it’s only a couple block away from where the office is located. It’s like walking through a real-life panoramic shot: the crumbling buildings and broken windows of the district she lives in fading into boarded windows and ‘closed’ signs’ until it gives way into the monochrome gray scheme that is downtown.
Downtown never fails to be busy at eight in the morning. Horns blaring from impatient drivers; pedestrians bustling up and down the sidewalk in their pressed suits, briefcases banging against their knees while they walk; jackhammers drilling into the foundation of a construction site that seems like it’ll never be done. Over all of this noise, Yoongi can’t hear her heels click against the concrete as she walks up the steps into a modern-looking glass skyscraper.
It’s like hitting the mute button on life. The only audible sound comes from the click-clack of her heels hitting the marble. It creates a sort of cadence that she marches proudly to, the sound echoing hauntingly around her as she makes her way to the elevator. If she was still into music, she might have recorded it, used it as a beat for a track.
The familiar ‘ding’ of the elevator reminds her that those days are gone as she steps through the open doors. The plain black folder tucked under her arm holds a neatly typed resignation letter. She tries not to think about it as she watches the numbers inside the elevator climb. She enjoyed this job, liked the work she did. Now she has to find another one.
Just before the lift reaches her floor, Yoongi smoothes down her blouse and takes a deep breath. She’s always stuck doing things she doesn’t want to do. When the doors slide open, she struts out into the office space, eyes flitting across the cubicles. She never thought she’d be one for the dull and mundane, but it seems like a paradise compared to doing Jay’s dirty work.
Her eyes dart toward her supervisor’s office, but she turns to walk the other way. A quick glance to her watch tells her it’s five minutes after eight. Her confidence drops as she walks. It’s carpeted up here, she can’t hear her heels. She turns into the break room, which is almost completely deserted, save for one person, who’s busy pouring himself a cup of coffee.
She really doesn’t want to do this. “Morning, Jimin,” she greets kindly, settling herself at the table where Jimin’s briefcase is set.
“Good morning, Yoongi,” Jimin greets with a bright grin, brushing his tousled hair out of his eyes after his sets the coffee pot back onto its warming plate. In two quick strides, he’s sitting beside Yoongi, hands wrapped around his mug. “So…” he drawls, his embarrassment obvious by the slight flush across his cheeks. “What time should I pick you up tonight?”
God, why does he have to look so happy about taking her on a date? “Look, Jimin, we need to talk,” Yoongi says, wincing when she catches the drop in his expression. “You’re a fantastic guy, you really are, and I would have loved to go on a date and see where things went. But the thing is…” she trails off, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She didn’t plan this far, oh god. She was expecting him to get angry, accuse her of leading him on then storm out, not to sit here and patiently hear her out. “I-I got a new job and I’m moving this afternoon,” she lies quickly. “I’m handing in my resignation today.”
“O-oh.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Jimin,” Yoongi whispers, as if the gentleness of her tone will negate the harshness of what she’s saying. “They called last night with the offer and I decided to take it.”
Jimin shakes his head, running a hand back through his hair. “No, it’s fine.” he tells her, “You’re doing what’s best for you and I respect that.” He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I just wish I would have had the courage to ask you out sooner.
“Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty,” Yoongi murmurs wisely, resting a hand on his arm. “Thank you.” As she stands, she presses a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye, Jimin.”
She walks out of the break room and pretends she doesn’t hear the sound of porcelain shattering in her wake.
Once her resignation is safely in her former supervisor’s hands, Yoongi leaves. She doesn’t want awkward questions or well-wishes from people she’s never even spoken to. It’s a kind of forced politeness that shouldn’t exist outside of grocery stores. In a perfect world, it wouldn’t even exist there.
Yoongi curses as she walks out of the manager’s office, loosening her school uniform tie. Yet another place not hiring. This can’t be happening, not now. She has a date to her senior prom, but no dress. Worst of all, if she can’t get a dress in the next two weeks, she’ll have to cancel.
She walks out of the grocery store, slowing down at the sight of two men standing awfully close to one another, speaking in hushed voices. Carefully, she approaches them, trying not to let them catch her trying to eavesdrop.
“-eed help,” one of the men is saying, glancing around frantically. “I’ve got sharks ‘n’ shit after me, he’s helped me before, I need to get in contact with him again.”
The other man flips his shaggy hair out of his eyes as he chuckles, the sound sending goosebumps down her spine. “You know Jay’s always willing to give out favors as long as you’re willing to do what he wants.” He claps the man’s shoulder, muttering that he’ll get a call later.
Once the first man has scurried off, Yoongi approaches the second man, her pulse racing excitedly. “Excuse me.”
He turns to look over his shoulder at her, showing off his strong profile. “Yes?” He questions as he slides a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Yoongi watches him place one of the smokes in between his lips before speaking.
“I need help,” she admits bluntly, taking a step closer to him. “I need a favor from whoever Jay is.”
The guy freezes, the flame of his lighter going out as he removes the unlit cigarette from his lips and turns to look at her fully. “You’re a kid,” he says in a rough low voice, staring at her incredulously, “Jay don’t deal with kids.”
Yoongi shakes her head, taking another step closer, lowering her own voice. “You said he’ll do favors for whoever is willing to do what he wants,” she reminds him, brushing her long, silky black hair away from her face. “I’m more than willing.”
“Hm…” he studies her for a moment. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Min Yoongi,” she informs him, standing up straight to make the most out of her petite stature.
He nods, the corner of his mouth curling into a wicked smirk. “I’m Kiseok. I’ll talk to him for you.”
Yoongi doesn’t look up at the sound of the bell ringing. She’s too immersed in a stack of pancakes covered in chocolate and strawberries to care about people watching right now. What does catch her attention is a familiar someone sliding into the bench directly on the other side of her table.
Sighing in annoyance, she drops her fork to look up at her company. “Did he seriously send you to make sure I had resigned?” She demands, rubbing the back of her head. The short bristles of her silvery hair scratch at her palm almost soothingly.
Kiseok just smiles at her. He almost looks exactly the same as when they met, except his jawline is sharper and his hair is shorter and actually styled. “It’s almost ten and you weren’t at his place yet. You know he’s not patient.”
“Sucks to suck, I wanted breakfast first,” Yoongi mutters, picking up her fork again so she can go back to tearing into her pancakes. If he’s not going to comment on her going to a diner on the opposite side of town from Jay’s place, she’s not either. She doesn’t look up from her plate until she hears Kiseok laugh. “What’s so fucking funny?”
“You,” Kiseok chuckles, shaking his head. “Look at you. Three years later and you’ve lost your sparkle, your willingness.”
Yoongi grits her teeth. “If you’re just going to make fun of me, get the fuck out. I’ll be at his place after I finish.”
He lets out a thoughtful hum before shaking his head. “Nope, I don’t think so. I have strict orders to drive you over there. You’ve already kept him waiting for too long.”
She doesn’t say anything else, just scarfs down the rest of her food before waving over a waitress so she can pay.
The atmosphere in the car is stiff and awkward. There’s some hip-hop album playing on the radio but Yoongi isn’t listening. She staring out of her window, trying to make a list of all the places she can’t go anymore so she doesn’t run into Jimin. It was bad enough to lie, it’ll be worse if he sees her again.
Too soon, much too soon, Kiseok’s parking the car by the curb in front of that familiar gray house. “You know the way in,” he tells her with a sharp grin, “He’s waiting for you.”
Yoongi just grits her teeth, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind her with as much force as she can muster. She can hear Kiseok’s muffled laughter as she walks through the gate. Again, she doesn’t bother knocking, just barges through the front door. This time, though, he’s not in the living room.
Sighing, she walks back to the foyer so she can walk up the stairs to the second floor. If he’s not on the couch, then he’s…
Right as she reaches the landing, the door to the study is flung open, followed by a body being tossed out. She sighs, stepping to the side as two familiar guys march out of the office, each grabbing an arm of the man on the floor. If he’s not on the couch, he’s dealing with potential clients. “Hyukwoo. Sunghwa,” she greets the two men dragging the unconscious body toward the stairs, nodding at them. More forced politeness.
They nod back before they start their descent. Sunghwa glances back at her after a couple steps. “He’s not pleasant right now,” he warns her with a scowl. “Wonder who’s fault that is.”
It’s rhetorical, of course it is. Yoongi rolls her eyes as she walks through the open door of the study. Jay’s cradling his head in his hands, elbows resting on the dark wood of his desk. To some, it would be a sign of defeat. Yoongi knows better, can see the tremors running through his arms, the way his shoulders are tense as a strung bow, ready to fire.
Yoongi closes the door behind her softly and locks it before approaching the desk. His dark hair is falling out of place from where it has been styled. If she was a nicer, better, sweeter person, she would have brushed the hair back into place. Instead, she raises a hand and quickly, loudly, slams her palm against the desk.
Jay curses, jerking back at the sharp crack that’s still echoing off the office walls. He looks around wildly before focusing on her, his eyes narrowing. “You’re late.”
“No I’m not,” Yoongi scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “You just said come after I resigned. You didn’t give me a timeframe.”
“Always a smartass,” Jay mutters, glaring up at her, though she can see him fighting back a smile. Ugh. “Did you do what I told you?”
“Would I be here if I hadn’t?”
He ignores her question. “Well, since you don’t have a job, I guess you’ll have to move back in,” he suggests. “Your old room is still free-”
“I have money saved,” Yoongi cuts him off, glowering. “I have enough to make it a few months. That’s more than enough time to find a job.” She puts on a fake smile. “You know I prefer being independent.”
“You mean you enjoy your illusion of independence,” he corrects her, smirking as he leans back in his chair, eyes trailing up and down her body. “Is your next job also going to require the cute bows and pencil skirts? ‘Cause I’ll be honest, it’s really fucking cute on you.”
Embarrassment sends blood rushing to her face as she practically tears out the mint and black polka dot clip keeping her bangs out of her face. “Have to look the part somehow,” she mutters, finally dropping her gaze and slipping the bow into her pocket. “Can I go now?”
“Sure.” Jay shrugs at her, though that stupid smirk she hates so much is still on his lips. “Just don’t be disappointed if you can’t get another job and can’t make rent.” He takes to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. “At least you always have a home here,” he offers again with a grin, pivoting to look out the window behind the desk.
Yoongi sneers, her voice venomous as she fires off, “I’d rather die than live under the same roof as you again.”
She watches Jay freeze, arms dropping by his sides before he’s looking at her. Not, not looking. Glaring. He stalks toward her, but she not going to back up, she’s going to stand her ground. She keeps telling herself that until he’s right on top of her.
Stepping back, she shoots him a dark look, a vehement fuck off leaving her lips when he keeps approaching her. Finally, her back hits the door, leaving her to press against it to try to stay as far away from his as it will allow. Desperately, she throws a punch, trying to deter him. It doesn’t work, of course it doesn’t, she’s watched him work out, seen the strength he possesses that proves his physique isn’t just for show. He catches her fist easily, pinning her wrist against the door above her head.
“You’d do well,” he murmurs as he grabs her other hand and slams it against the door as well. His other hand shifts so he has pressure on both her wrists. “To remember that can be arranged.” He’s angry, oh he’s so fucking pissed. But Yoongi’s always had a bad habit of fanning the flames.
“Do it then,” she spits at him, “Make my fucking day.”
He laughs at that, the sound as cold and dark as his heart, as his free hand comes down to brush her bangs out of her face. “Now why would I give you what you want?” he asks innocently, resting his forehead against hers. The action is so intimate, so familiar that Yoongi feels like she’s going to throw up. “Especially,” he whispers as he moves back, tilting his head so his lips are hovering over hers. “When you won’t give me what I want?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer, keeping her eyes down so she doesn’t have to see the way he’s looking at her. It’s worse than anger. Jay smirks at that, cooing ‘good girl’ before pressing a kiss to her lips. She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look up until he’s let go of her and moved away. Once she sees his back is facing her, she turns immediately to unlock the door, yanking it open and practically throwing herself out of the door.
She’s down the stairs in records time. She doesn’t remember if she passed by anyone on her way out or on the street. The next thing she registers is leaning against an alley wall, emptying the contents of her stomach. She coughs roughly, spitting out the last bit of residue in her mouth before straightening up. She has a mission now: go home, brush her teeth, go out and put in as many applications in as many places as she can.
For Min Yoongi, things are hardly ever simple. She thinks about that while she leans back against a wall in an alley, watching the people walk by. A nearby streetlight illuminates part of the alley she’s standing in, the orange glow making her hair appear gold instead of its actual silvery gray color. Things aren’t simple, she muses as she takes a drag from the cigarette poised between two of her dainty fingers, that’s why she’s out in the wealthier part of town where she has no business, people watching. The simplest thing in her life is the fact that if you want to get something, you first must give something.
She needs a favor.
Her eyes drift across the scene in front of her, taking in everything: an elderly couple getting out of their candy apple red luxury sports car; the queue to get into some expensive high-end restaurant that probably charges out the nose for a single bite of food; a man with unruly black hair stepping out of an apartment building, wearing those stupid wireless headphones.
Jackpot.
Dropping what’s left of the cigarette, she pushes off the wall, taking care that she steps onto the abandoned butt to crush out the embers. She out in the sidewalk, out in the open now, weaving through seas of indistinguishable designer coats towards her target. Just as he’s about to pass by, she staggers into his path, slamming into him.
Too quick, too easy, slipped his wallet out of his back pocket right as they collided.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” she gushes as she pushes away from him, purposefully wobbling. “I should have known better than to wear heels out walking!”
The guy laughs, his warm hands resting on her arms to help her steady herself. “It’s fine, accidents happen,” he assures her, “Are you okay? Didn’t twist an ankle or anything?”
She shakes her head, assuring him she’s fine as she takes a step back, his hands falling from her arms. “Again, I’m so sorry, Have a good night!” She waves before ducking around him and continuing on her way. She waits until she’s rounded the corner to take off sprinting, heels clacking against the concrete.
Many blocks away, she’s on a street lined with cute, picturesque house: white picket fences, planter boxes beneath the windows. Glancing around, she pulls the guy’s wallet out of the pocket of her jeans. Whistling lowly, she thumbs through the notes tucked away in it. Man must have been planning on making it ran on somebody. It’s nothing but hundreds, crisp and neat and begging to be spent. Sucks to be that guy, but she has other plans for this cash. It is, after all, hers now.
At the end of the street is a cul-de-sac where one single house sits alone. It’s a pretty two-story gray colonial and the smoke curling out of the chimney only completes the image of a warm and cozy greeting. Yoongi grits her teeth as she walked through the front gate, taking care to not let her heels sink into the dirt. Honestly, she’d rather be anywhere but here.
She slowly walks up the front steps, pausing outside of the door to take a deep breath. She doesn’t bother knocking. Knocking suggests unfamiliarity. Instead, her hand curls around the doorknob, twisting it almost violently as she pushes the door open.
“Jay,” Yoongi yells as she walks into the foyer, kicking off her shoes as she closes the door behind her, taking care to lock it. She doesn’t feel like getting interrupted. “I got something for ya!”
There’s no response. Of course there isn’t. Grumbling to herself, she walks to the right of the staircase through an archway. The TV is on, but she can’t hear it. Low volume, he was expecting someone. Not her, obviously, he couldn’t know she was coming. Which means he has one of his guys out doing something for him. She shudders at the thought, mentally preparing for the murder report on the morning news tomorrow.
She stands at the end of the couch, biting her lip. He’s sprawled across the suede, jeans low on his hips and no shirt. Tattoos decorate the expanse of his chest, the backs on his hand, down one of his sides. She can even see the stars on his neck, glowing in the light from the TV. He doesn’t say anything to her though, too fixated on the screen to pay her any mind.
Sighing, Yoongi opens the wallet and pulls out the mass of of bills. “One hundred… two hundred… three hundred…” she counts slowly. Once she reaches the first thousand, she drops that stack on the coffee table, careful not to knock over the can of Monster sitting next to the remote.
By the time she’s reached three thousand, Jay’s sitting up, staring at her intently, one corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. She ignores him until she’s counted all of the money, the notes in a pile on the coffee table with the wallet sitting on top of them. “Well?” She demands.
Jay laughs, grabbing her hand and pulling her down onto his lap. “I don’t remember giving you an assignment,” he murmurs, eyes tracing over her face carefully. His nose piercing twinkles in the light. It’s pretty. He’s pretty. He surrounds himself with pretty things. Maybe he thinks it’ll cancel out the not so pretty things he does.
“Didn’t need one. Figured I hadn’t done any work for you in a while and I’d make up for it,” Yoongi explains with a shrug, smiling briefly. “I thought you might appreciate it.”
“Mhm.” Jay looks amused as he gently brushes her hair back away from her face. “You’re never this sweet,” he comments, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
She represses a full body shiver at the sensation of his lips against her cheek. They’re so soft. It doesn’t fit him at all. “I’m always sweet,” she responds, forcing a breathy giggle. “Isn’t that why you always call me Suga?”
Jay just smiles, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. "You're only Suga when you want something," he murmurs, eyes glinting dangerously. "What is it this time?"
Yoongi bites back a swear. He’s too good at reading people, always has been. “Can’t I just be sweet?” She asks, returning his smiling with one of her own.
“You? Never.” Jay chuckles coldly. “Tell me… now.”
Oh god. She doesn’t want to do this. She really doesn’t want to do this. She takes a deep breath, not quite meeting Jay's eyes. "Today at work-"
"By 'work,' you mean the job you don't need?" Jay questions, his voice flat.
She chooses to ignore the interruption. "Today at work," she repeats, her voice a bit stronger,, "One of the guys in my department asked me for a date tomorrow night and I said-"
"No."
Yoongi blinks at the venom in his voice, feeling her heart drop at the building rage she can see flickering in Jay's eyes. "Actually, I said yes."
"It wasn’t a suggestion," Jay tells her lowly, hand slipping from her cheek to harshly grab her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You'll cancel tomorrow then you're going to resign from that job."
It feels like she's been dunked under icy water, goosebumps rippling up her skin. "B- but," she tries to argue, but Jay cuts her off.
"Three years ago, you came to me for your first favor. Do you remember what it was?"
Heat replaces the ice, spreading across her cheeks like wild fire. God, as if she could forget. Her family was starting to struggle financially and her longtime crush had asked her to senior prom. “I… I needed a dress,” she mutters shamefully. A week of running drugs for him in exchange for the money for the perfect dress, not to mention enough left over to get her hair and makeup done.
Jay nods approvingly, his smile cruel. "Do you remember what the next favor was?"
Yoongi nods stiffly, which only makes Jay tsk at her.
"Nuh-uh, Suga, use your words," he orders softly
She doesn’t want to say it. She swallows back the lump in her throat. It was so stupid. Finally, she manages to say, "Taking care of my parents debts."
"Very good," Jay praises, letting go of her chin to caress her cheek. "I have it in writing of course, but what did you give me for that favor?"
"Myself." It's barely a whisper, choked off and miserable.
Jay hums. "Close. Yourself. Your parents thinking you're dead and the knowledge that if you ever tried to contact them, they'd be killed.
"What I'm getting at is..." He takes one of her hands, lacing their fingers together. "You belong to me. You follow my rules, you do as I say. No amount of cash or valuables you pick from unsuspecting souls is going to change that." He tilts his head almost innocently, smiling sweetly. "Do you understand, Suga?"
"Yes, Jay," she answers quietly.
He presses another kiss to her cheek, letting go of her hand. "Go home and get some rest. I expect to see you tomorrow after you've resigned."
She’s quick to jump off his lap, practically running back to the foyer to tug on her heels. Even then, she doesn’t stop running, not until she’s streets away, tears running down her cheeks and blisters forming on her feet. The rest of the walk just exudes misery: broken windows of shut down shops, homeless people huddled in alleyways trying to sleep, the heavy smell of alcohol permeating the air around the entrance to the apartments, whistles and jeers following her up the steps. Jay would never be caught dead in a place like this, which is why she stays here. At least the elevator is empty when she gets inside, jabbing the 7 button with more force than necessary.
As soon as she’s inside her apartment, Yoongi promptly throws herself on the couch and screams into a throw pillow. She hates this, she had been so naive to throw away her freedom to help her parents, to sell her soul to such an awful, manipulative asshole.
When she finally stops screaming, when oxygen becomes a necessity, she hears knocking at her door. Groaning, she gets up to drag herself over to answer it. She hopes it's not the landlord. If she gets kicked out of here, she'll have nowhere to go, except back to Jay's house, to be under his roof and his complete control again.
She'd rather die.
Wrenching open the door, she glares at whoever is on the other side. Just so happens that the person on the other side is a young guy, maybe a year or two younger than her, with dyed hair and tan skin.
Definitely not the landlord.
"Who're you?" She demands, flipping her hair out of her eyes so she can get a better look at him. Tattered jeans, styled that way, not from too much wear. A plain black hoodie that hugs his frame and looks entirely too comfortable. He’s not from here and he doesn’t belong here.
"Namjoon, Kim Namjoon," he answers quietly, glancing around her to look into her apartment. She shifts so he can’t see behind her. "I just moved in across the hall. Is everything okay?"
Yoongi blinks at that, the question catching her off guard. He definitely doesn’t belong here. People don't ask that, especially in this part of town. "Yeah, why?"
"I-I heard screaming and was worried," he explains, chuckling nervously. "Decided to be a good neighbor and all that and come see if anything was wrong."
Good neighbors don’t exist. Yoongi’s lived here long enough to know that. But this guy… he seems so genuine, so simple. Except nothing’s simple in Yoongi’s life. “Yeah, everything’s chill,” she answers, faking a smile. “Rough day at work and all that, was just trying to blow off some steam.” She runs a hand back through her hair and sighs. “I’ll try to keep it down, alright?”
She closes the door, barely catching Namjoon’s soft bid of ‘goodnight’ before it shuts. Slumping against the wood, she lets out another sigh. If only things could be simple.
Trigger Warning: this story contains mentions of eating disorders
The ticking of the clock echoes around the room, reverberating inside his head. Empty water bottles litter the carpet, some crushed from being stepped on. The ones that are still full reside proudly on the nightstand above their fallen brethren, unknowing that they will meet the same fate. He rolls over, staring at the neon green numbers on his calendar clock.
He hasn’t left his room in four days, hasn’t touched his phone for the same amount of time. The door leading into the rest of the apartment has stayed resolutely locked. Not that anyone has come knocking anyway. Of course not.
Slowly, he shifts his body until he can set his bare feet on the floor, cringing as a plastic bottle crackles noisily under his heel. He kicks it away. It barely rolls, moving just enough to not be underfoot. Finally he stands, his body creaking like rusted gears in an abandoned machine. His soles drag along, warmed from the friction from the carpet, as he walks into his adjoined bathroom.
He keeps his eyes focused down on the tiles the entire time. He doesn’t want to see what he looks like right now, doesn’t want to see what he looks like ever, honestly. Bravado is easy to fake, so is confidence. Even if you fake it, though, it doesn’t guarantee you’ll make it. He definitely hasn’t. Finally, he looks up.
Ugly. That’s the first word that crosses his mind when he sees his reflection. The light shines from how greasy his hair is from lack of washing. His sallow skin stretches gaunt-like across his face, emphasizing the jut of his cheekbones and the sharp edges of his jawline. Not in a handsome way, never like that. He looks like a corpse that’s just started to decay.
His gaze drops down the length of the mirror. Grimacing, he watches his fingers trace the length of his protruding collarbones. Disgusting. His fingers fall down the flat plane of his chest to dance across his ribs. Grotesque. That’s what he thinks as he feels the sharp outline of each bone beneath his fingertips. It’s like they’re stuck in a skin too small, trying eagerly to burst through and escape.
He jerks his hand away, swallowing to combat the feeling of bile trying to crawl up his throat. Repulsive. That’s what he is, he can’t even stand to look at himself, much less touch himself. How can he expect anyone else to? He hurries out of the bathroom, switching off the light before he closes the door. Before he can make it back to his bed, however, he hears knocking. He tries to ignore it, he really does. He slides onto his bed and burrows under the covers, doing his best to block out the noise.
“Ahn Jaehyo, it’s been four days!” Dammit, of all people why does it have to be him? “I swear, I will break down this door if it means making sure you’re okay!”
Jaehyo sighs, pulling himself out of bed again, snatching a shirt off the floor and pulling it on. The fabric hangs off of him almost comically, the hem stopping halfway down his boxers. He shuffles to the door, hoping in the time it takes him to get there, he’ll have given up. Taking a deep breath, he flings open the door.
No such luck. He sees his ex-boyfriend’s eyes, the skin beneath them colored a purplish black, taking in his appearance worriedly. He hates it, hates that he’s the reason the person he loves is so distressed and obviously not sleeping enough. He hates it. He hates dragging him down. That’s why he broke up with him when he was caught with his fingers down his throat in the restaurant bathroom on their last date.
“What do you want, Jiho?” Jaehyo asks wearily, dropping his own gaze so he doesn’t have to see the look in Jiho’s eyes. “We broke up, remember?”
“By ‘broke up,’ you mean you got scared and pushed me away before I could even try to understand?” Jiho’s voice isn’t angry. That’s even worse, Jaehyo could deal if he was angry. He can’t take the sincerity and concern his voice is practically dripping with. “Hyo, I want to help. I don’t know how, we can figure it out together though. I just want to help you be okay again.”
Okay… Jaehyo honestly can’t remember if he’s ever actually been ‘okay.’ He wonders what it would feel like to actually be able to eat without feeling disgusted with himself, without the violent churning of his stomach to expel whatever he consumes, if he even eats that day. He wonders if it’s even possible to look at himself and not want to shatter whatever surface he’s looking at. It seems like such a long shot, but…
“I want to.” His voice wavers as he looks up at Jiho. It feels like his throat is trying to close up, like his body doesn’t want him to confess to this. But he wants to, wants to scream it. The best he can manage though is whisper, “ I wanna get better.”
Jaehyo smirks to himself as he runs the tip of the eyeliner pencil through the flame of the shiny turquoise Zippo his boyfriend got him. He prefers old-school eyeliner, pencil sharpeners and all. Oil sticks are too simple, liquid’s messy, and gel just doesn’t do anything for him. The fire, letting it cool, the slight heat against his eyelid as he begins to apply it…. he finds it oddly satisfying.
Once he finishes, he wastes no time batting his eyelashes. His eyeliner is flawless, framing his beautiful eyes perfectly. He’s so gorgeous. He bites his lip and winks at his reflection. He laughs before swiping a bit of cherry lip gloss across his lips. Jiho better fucking appreciate this. He knows his boyfriend, knows he likes his lips all red and shiny (preferably from having his dick between them). If the makeup isn’t good enough for him, he can just get Jaehyo on his knees after he’s done performing.
He ignores the ringing of his cell in favor of snatching Jiho's favorite beanie (the one with the skull with the heart eyes) from the post of the bed frame. Carefully, he pulls it on, appreciating the way it covers his roots. He really needs to dye his hair again. His phone stops for a moment and he takes the moment of silence to brush his long, bleach blond locks back from his face.
With a roll of his eyes, he answers his phone as it starts again. “Hello?”
“Where the fuck are you?” Jiho demands in lieu of a greeting, “Show starts in like ten minutes.”
“Yes, and they always put all the shitty newbies first.” Jaehyo answers. He picks up his lighter, the black ‘Z’ on it glinting as he slides it into the pocket of his leather pants. “You’re out of that league, babe, I can afford to be late.”
Jiho mutters something under his breath, probably cursing Jaehyo for even implying he used to be a shitty rapper. Jaehyo doesn’t know, he’s not listening. He’s too busy pulling on his boots, just muttering little ‘uh-huh’s and ‘sure, babe’s to keep Jiho satisfied. It wouldn’t be his first time faking. Not that Jiho needs to know.
"Calm your dick, I'll be there by intermission, alright?" Jaehyo finally cuts him off as he slides on his ring, appreciating the way the sapphire shines, complimenting the matte color of his black nails. He admires his reflection: tight pants; fishnet shirt; studded belt, wristbands, and choker; blond hair beneath a beanie; and, of course, his perfect eyeliner and glossy lips. God, he's so fucking gorgeous, Jiho is so lucky. "Love you, bitch."
"Uh-huh, love you too," Jiho replies before hanging up.
His boots crunch against the gravel as he weaves through the cars parked haphazardly in the small lot. Broken bottles and cigarette butts litter the ground. Wrong side of the tracks, Jiho had told him with a grin the first time he brought him out here. Jaehyo makes it to the door of the building. The graffiti on the boarded up windows really adds character, he thinks as he knocks out a familiar rhythm against the metal.
It only takes a moment before Jihoon's opening the door for him, his face uncharacteristically irritated. "He's been bitching about you not being here," he complains as he steps back to let Jaehyo inside. Jaehyo simply shrugs, tossing Jihoon a flirty wink in place of a proper apology before venturing further into the smoky room.
He smirks to himself as he catches sight of Tempo over in the corner, tangled in a lip-lock with his boyfriend Jiyong. He passes by them without a word, knowing Jiyong will come to say hey later. Tempo’s in the second half of the show as well. He weaves around a large table of giggling girls, who are busy fawning over some of the newbies that he hasn’t bothered learning the names of and probably won’t, to be honest.
He gets to his usually table, plucking off the simple RESERVED sign and setting it off to the side. His prize is standing on the low stage with his back to him, immersed in conversation with Tablo, Jint, and Jay. Jaehyo licks his lips before letting out a sharp, piercing whistle. He smirks as he watches Jiho go completely rigid. He hates that sound, hates it with a fucking burning passion and Jaehyo knows it. He swings around, glowering as his gaze locks onto Jaehyo.
Heat spikes through Jaehyo's entire body and snatches the air from his lungs. God, he loves being pinned down by that stare. His cock throbs in his pants and he's completely shameless as he runs his hand over the outline of it, completely unfazed by the amount of people around, and bites his lip. Jiho’s eyes narrow and Jaehyo just laughs, blowing him a kiss as he finally takes his seat.
The group onstage finally slip behind the curtain after a few more minutes discussing whatever the fuck they were talking about. Jay grabs Jiho's wrist to lead him through the gap in the fabric. Jaehyo frowns. He doesn't like people touching his boyfriend. Especially not Jay.
"You don't look happy." The words drift by him on wisps of smoke. He turns, unsurprised to see Jiyong settling into the other chair at the table.
Jaehyo scowls. "I'm not. Jay's touching my man." He reaches out for the joint Jiyong has between his slender fingers, glancing briefly at the other. "Why is your face all sparkly?"
Jiyong laughs as he passes the blunt, the fingers of his free hand running back through his blood red hair. "Just came over from Chaerin's birthday party," he says as if that explains everything (and it does). "We're heading back over as soon as the show's done. You and Nacseo should tag along."
Jaehyo sniggers, the sound laced with smoke. "Don't let him hear you call him that."
"Hey, I'm allowed to call him that," Jiyong grins, "I was around when that little shit was first calling himself that. Tempo and I practically raised him since he came here.”
Nacseo had been Jiho's first stage name, back when first started at this club, a few years before he met Jaehyo. He had swapped over to using Zico when he finally got moved to the second half of the show. Something about rebirth and moving forward, possibly something about artistic license. Jaehyo doesn’t remember, he had been stoned out of his fucking mind.
“Nah, we’re probably just going to go back to our place once we’re done here,” Jaehyo tells him, taking one last hit before passing the joint back over. “Tell Chae we said happy birthday, though.”
Jiyong doesn’t get to respond again. The overhead lights go out, leaving the stage illuminated. Jaehyo grins as he leans forward as a rhythm he’s only half-heard muffled through walls blares through the speakers, the bass pumping through his entire body. Distantly, he hears some of the others in the building cheering, but he can’t focus on them. Not when Jiho’s on that stage, demanding everyone’s attention with just his very presence. No, not Jiho...
“Zee-ah-co,” Jaehyo breathes out as Jiho spits it into the mic.
Jaehyo likes the way Jiho kisses him. All the ways Jiho kisses him actually. The sleepy press of their lips when they first wake up, between his half-hearted complaints about morning breath and Jiho's chuckling about how he doesn’t care; the quick, hurried pecks when they’re rushing out the door to get to their classes on time; and the soft, gentle string of goodnight kisses.
But there’s more than just that.
There’s drunken kisses, sloppy and uncoordinated, that make him smile when Jiho starts singing in English, his words half-slurred, about how his lips taste like sangria. The obnoxious, just for show kisses, accompanied by a loud ‘mwah,’ just to get on Kyung’s nerves when he complains about being single. The shy, chaste kisses when Jiho pulls away blushing and grinning like an idiot, despite the fact that they’ve been together for almost two years.
But then there’s the moments Jiho holds him together during his attacks, placing soft kisses against his temple as Jaehyo exhales brokenly against his shoulder. Or when Jiho’s angry, seething and raging against whichever injustice has managed to flip his switch and Jaehyo presses kisses against the line of his jaw, stubble occasionally pricking at his lips, to try to ground him and bring him back. Or after a fight, when their kisses heal the burns their words left on their lips.
Perhaps Jaehyo’s favorite way though is when he knows Jiho’s kisses mean more, when he’s pressed back against a wall, the couch, their mattress and Jiho can’t keep his hands to himself or above his clothes. Out on the dance floor at the club, filthy promises whispered as Jiho kisses that one spot behind his ear that always makes him whine. Beneath the spray of the shower, their bodies slick as Jiho presses against him, his kisses fervent, hot, and needy, lips trailing down his jaw, his neck, his chest, his abs…
Do they fuck or make love? Depends on the day of the week, how drunk they are, and which way the wind is blowing.
Lights on or off? Definitely on. Zico wants to see that pretty face
Who is more likely to be caught masturbating? Jaehyo
Who comes first? Jaehyo
Who is better at oral and who prefers it? Zico’s better at it have you seen those fucking lips? And he absolutely loves being on his knees for his boyfriend.
Who is more submissive? Usually Jaehyo, but Zico has his moments of letting Jaehyo take control.
Who usually initiates things? Zico
Who is more sensitive? Surprisingly Zico and Jaehyo handles it well. Then later pokes fun at him just so he can see that pretty shade of pink Zico turns when he tells him to shut up
Jaehyo’s eyelids fluttered from the weight of his own exhaustion as he stared at his laptop screen. He still had three pages left to write for this fucking paper and it was already four in the morning. He would have had it completed weeks ago, if it weren’t for his boyfriend.
Jiho was a complete sweetheart, he really was, but he thrived on attention, craved it like a fucking addict. It was hard to get anything done when Jiho was constantly dragging him to his band’s gigs or out to one of Yukwon’s insane house parties that hosted all of Jiho’s favorite vices (speaking of which, he and Jiho still owed Yukwon new sheets). If they didn’t go out, Jiho stayed latched to his side, pressing kisses to his jaw and whispering little adoring words into his ear. It was nice, for the most part, but some days, Jaehyo really didn’t need the distractions.
Jaehyo swore under his breath as he heard the sound of the front door opening. He closed his eyes briefly, silently hoping his boyfriend would just tromp off to bed and fall asleep. Barely a moment later, however, Jiho was draped over him, the scent of weed and alcohol embedded in his fucking skin.
"Babe~" Jiho murmured into the crook of his neck, fingers playing with the hole in Jaehyo's worn tank top, "Come to bed with me."
Jaehyo let a out a controlled sigh, attempting to keep his annoyance in check. "Babe, I have to finish this paper. It's due in a few hours."
Jiho made a soft whining sound against his skin."But, babe, I wanna snuggle."
"But, babe, I have to finish this paper."
"But, baaabe, I wanna snuggle."
Jaehyo's hands slammed against the tabletop, startling Jiho off his shoulder. He swiveled around in his chair to fix his boyfriend with a harsh glare, taking a small amount of pleasure in the way Jiho's kohl-rimmed eyes widened.
"Jiho, I have to have a completed essay submitted to my professor by nine. Otherwise I'll fail the course," Jaehyo gritted out, "Stop being such a fucking attention whore and be patient."
He spun back around to face his laptop, hands immediately falling to the keys. For almost half an hour, the only sound was the steady click-clack of typing. He was almost finished, with only a conclusion paragraph left, when he felt Jiho lean over him again, chin on his shoulder.
"I still wanna snuggle," he mumbled sulkily and Jaehyo can just imagine the pout on his lips.
Jaehyo smiled as he continued typing. It wasn't until his essay was safely submitted in the drop box (and emailed to his professor for good measure), that he finally looked at Jiho, was who was almost asleep.
"Babe," Jaehyo whispered as he ran his fingers through Jiho's messy hair. Jiho hummed, blinking slowly as his boyfriend's voice reached him. "You still wanna snuggle?"
Jiho nodded sleepily. "Please."
They made it back to their room, where Jaehyo had to help Jiho out of his combat boots and ripped jeans before they could crawl beneath the covers. Jiho immediately fitted himself against Jaehyo, head against his shoulder, one leg slotted between his boyfriend's own.
"I'm sorry I called you an attention whore," Jaehyo murmured as he kissed the side of Jiho's head.
"I am though," Jiho mumbled against his neck, drawing a soft chuckle from Jaehyo.
"You are," Jaehyo agreed, "You're also exasperating as fuck." He paused for a moment. "You're cute though."
The sun has almost completely dipped below the horizon, casting a bronzish glow over everything. It’s not quite light, it’s not quite dark, it’s fleeting, and it’s Jiho’s favorite time of day. Orange fills the sky, streaked by bits of pink and yellow and sometimes even lavender. If he tilts his head back a bit further, he’ll see the color of the night already forming, pin-pricked by tiny stars. Light versus the dark, one cannot exist without the other.
He and Jaehyo are like that.
Jaehyo would be the day: bright, shining, warm, adored by everyone. Jiho’s like the night: cold, dark, and the only light is faint and hard to see. Jaehyo’s smile is radiant as the sun. Jiho’s is softer, like the light the moon gives off, and not nearly as noticeable.
“It’s just as beautiful though,” Jaehyo murmurs as he runs his fingers through Jiho’s bleached hair.
Shit. He’s been talking out loud this whole time, rambling nonsense with his head resting on the pillow of his boyfriend’s lap.
And Jaehyo had listened.
He sits straight up, eyes wide as he stares at the older man, trying to come up with something, a joke, something witty, something to take away from the seriousness of everything he just said, something to make him not seem like a sappy fool. He doesn’t get the chance though before Jaehyo’s lips are pressing against his own, slender hands pulling him closer.
Jaehyo’s his sun. It just never occurred to him that he might also be Jaehyo’s moon and stars.
Jaehyo sighed as he walked into their apartment, eyes immediately focusing on the extravagant arrangement of roses sitting prettily on the coffee table. His sigh quickly became a groan as he noticed the giant heart-shaped box sitting next to it. It wasn’t Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t their anniversary. Hell, it wasn’t even his birthday! It was Tuesday, he had just gotten back from his last class of the day (senior year was hell) and he just wanted to sleep.
He retrieved his phone from his pocket, mumbling nonsensically under his breath as he listened to the ringing, waiting for his darling boyfriend to pick up.
“Hi, hyung!” Jiho answered cheerfully. Jaehyo swore under his breath, making a mental note to hide all forms of ‘sweet’ from his lover, lest the man just become pure sugar. “Did you get the flowers I left for you?”
Jaehyo closed his eyes. “Yes, babe. I also got the chocolates you left with them.”
Jiho had the fucking audacity to giggle at that. Not chuckle. Giggle like a fucking school-girl whose confession was accepted. “Did you like them?”
“Honestly? Not really.” He slouched back against the door, his eyes falling shut as he hears the little disappointed noise his boyfriend makes. “Jiho, babe, I love you, and I appreciate that you like getting me gifts. I just… I don’t need all these grand gestures all the time. To hell with the flowers, the candy, the oversized teddy bears, I’d rather come home and see you waiting for me with takeout and a stupid movie instead.”
Silence flooded the line and, for a moment, Jaehyo wondered if he had been too harsh, if he had been misunderstood. The very next second, however, Jiho’s voice chimed through the line, as cheerful as ever. “So, do you want pizza or Chinese tonight?”
Jaehyo laughed, unable to stop the smile stretching across his lips. “Make it pizza, babe.”
Everything is fleeting, a mere lick of flame atop a candle in the middle of the harshest storm, barely hanging on and so, so easy to snuff out.
The first time Jaehyo meets Jiho, he thinks he’s the human embodiment of a raging inferno. Dark eyes (rimmed thick with kohl) smolder at him as their owner makes his way across the dance floor. The touch of his hands on Jaehyo’s hips burns through his layers of clothes. When they make it out of the club, out onto the cracked concrete street, and Jiho pushes him against the rough brick of the wall to kiss him, Jaehyo can practically feel the flames licking at his own lips.
That’s what their love was like: a forest fire ravaging everything in its path only to leave destruction in its wake. Beautiful, extravagant, deadly, dangerous (words Jaehyo would also use to describe Jiho on a number of occasions) and it was a complete whirlwind.
Jaehyo completely forgot how fragile it all was.
He didn’t listen to the police talk, didn’t listen to them describe the shattered glass on the road, or anything else. His eyes flitted between Jiho who, despite the lacerations on his face, he couldn’t drink in enough of, and the peaks and valleys on the monitor, his heart breaking as he watched the beats of his boyfriend’s heart steadily drop. A shaky breath escaped him as he leaned forward to press a final kiss to Jiho’s forehead. Tears dripped down his cheeks and the heat reminded him of how fiery Jiho had been and how easily that fire had been snuffed out.
The haunting beep of a flat-line echoed through the hospital room.
