#btswritersguild

Chapter 8 ‘Mission’

When you wake up, you are stunned to realize that you had actually been able to fall asleep under the circumstances. Usually, you would have been too uncomfortable to truly relax, but here you were, slobbering all over their expensive-looking couch.

It wasn’t dark outside by any means but it was significantly later than you had expected it to be.

The sun was high in the sky hidden behind the film of heavy clouds, so you presume it to be around early afternoon. The world below you was alive and bustling, despite the gray and drab weather and, humorlessly, you realize that it seems to match your mood perfectly.

Your skin feels heavy from where it had been pressed heavily into the soft sofa and as you lift your head fully, you can sense that you aren’t alone. Pressing into the grooves of your skin, you slowly turn your head toward the source of the soft sound of turning pages.

It wasn’t Jungkook, thankfully.

Jimin glances over the head of his comic book and says, “Don’t mind me.”

Unconsciously, tension leaves your body.

Jimin, objectively, wasn’t any better than Jungkook to have around - both of them being your captors - but something about waking up to see Jungkook’s metaphorical wagging tail and puppy dog eyes would have set you off something fierce.

Your nerves are shot, trembling lightly where they fist the material pooling at your stomach, and you glare at the other man, annoyed by the nerve of his sunshine-like expression.

“I wasn’t going to,” you grumble, voice croaky and thick with sleep. You clear your throat and sit up, feeling the urge to relieve yourself. Begrudgingly, you ask, “Where’s the bathroom?”

Jimin looks up and asks, voice filled with sarcasm, “You aren’t going to try and climb out the window, right?”

You glare at him but he simply shrugs. Jimin explains, “I got put on YN-watch tonight, so I have to make sure you aren’t left alone. At all. Jungkook would kill me.”

You say, barely able to hide your pout, “This is insane, you know that right?”

Jimin nods in agreement. He explains, easily, “Sure. It’s also incredibly illegal. But that’s never stopped us before.”

You scoff, lip curling in annoyance, “Right. I shouldn’t expect decency from people like you.”

He laughs, loud and sudden, like the sound was shocked out of him. “Decency? Says the person who held a gun on me and threatened to cut my eyes out.”

“I wasn’t actually gonna do it,” you retort, dismissively. Jimin pins you with a look and you huff, “Okay. But, I didn’t do it. That’s the important part. Plus, you had assaulted me first. I was just protecting myself.”

Jimin gives you a dry look, not even the slight bit amused by your excuses. The pink-haired man gracefully moves to his feet, tossing the comic back onto the table with a couple others from the same series, and he says, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Come on. I made lunch. You can shower, get changed then eat.”

He leads you out of the library and through the ornately-decorated apartment, too quickly for you to be able to take note of much besides the fancy decor and messy living room. Jimin walks to a room and pushes open the door. The first thing you notice is an expensive-looking drum-set in the corner of the room, a pair of overhead earphones sat on the stool and a worn pair of drumsticks are on the computer desk.

Three of the four walls are dark, charcoal black wallpaper with a slightly raised design that you wanted to trail your fingers across. One main wall is ivory white, with a huge bed pushed into the corner, low with many soft white pillows piled at the head of the bed. The room is smaller than you expected but it seems designed that way, as if comfort and coziness was the aim instead of grand expressions of luxury.

You say, eyes sweeping around the area, “This is Jungkook’s room, isn’t it?”

You miss the bemused expressions that passes over Jimin’s face. He hums. “Yeah, it is.”

The floor is coated in dark gray carpet, soft but it feels reinforced under your feet. You suspect there’s a couple of layers of carpet to insulate the room. Two paintings are reclined against the white wall, and they don’t seem to be designer, but they could be hung in an art gallery somewhere. They fit the soft dark aesthetic of the room and you want to take a closer look but Jimin pushes open a door you hadn’t seen when you first entered.

“Jungkook won’t mind if you use anything of his,” he comments. He opens up a drawer and hands you a towel. It’s soft and it smells good, even when you hold it at a distance. One thing you have noticed about being in Jungkook’s space was that the freak was tidy - anally so. Contrary to the rest of the apartment that had dots of mess, clothes draped over furniture and dishes in the sink, showing it to be lived in, his personal space was pristine. You almost didn’t want to touch anything, in case you knocked it out of its perfect harmony with the rest of the room. “Wear something of his, a sweater or something.”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble. “Give me something of yours.”

He snorts. “You see this?” He points to his black eye. “I got this for just mentioning you. I refuse to lose a tooth because he sees you in something of mine instead of his.” Jimin lets out a small chuckle at the gentle shock on your face. “It’s that or you walk around naked.”

“I’m tempted to take you up on that but I’d rather die than give you the satisfaction of seeing my perfect tits in real time,” you snark. You roll your eyes but bring the towel closer to your chest. “Go.”

Jimin smirks but disappears out the way you both came.

With the sound of the door closing behind him, you feel the strong wall you had built up inside of you collapse for a moment before your frown deepens. You slump against the doorframe leading to the bathroom and close your eyes, holding the towel tight to your chest.

You have to figure out how to get out of here, and fast. You have to figure something out before Jungkook gets back.

Jimin is on edge around you. He won’t turn his back to you. He was probably told to keep you in his line of sight every second. It’s a fortune he left you alone to wash your ass, but perhaps the risk of actually seeing a pair of breasts had the pink-haired maniac running for the hills. He didn’t seem averse to women, but then again, you weren’t one to judge, having found yourself twisted in the sheets with every flavor of the human-rainbow - some of them, more than once.

You walk into the bathroom and struggle with the knob of the shower. It comes out powerfully, and takes mere seconds to warm up. It was enticing, the urge to wash the last couple of days off. You have to be careful of your hand, the burn tingles a little but it doesn’t hurt - not enough to take any medication, at least. You stare at yourself in the mirror, watching your reflection slowly becomes absorbed by the steam filling the room. You wipe a hand across the surface of the glass, so you can see your own face, before you hang your head in surrender.

You had come to a wretched conclusion during these few moments of blessed freedom.

For now, you would have to play their game.

And that meant doing as they wanted, no matter how frustrated it made you feel.

You shower, taking care of your wrapped wrist, and dress in a pair of boxers fresh out the packet and a huge sweater. You practically drowned in the material, having to roll the sleeves up three times before you could see your own hands. Jungkook had a huge collection of socks and you grabbed the funniest looking pair you could find - yellow and green spots with a cartoon frog stitched on either side. You looked stupid, but it was better than nothing. And his clothes smelled divine.

Once you are done, you toss the towel in the dirty basket in the corner of the room and open the door, walking out into the hallway. Only to trip over Jimin’s body sat distractedly in front of the door and fall straight to the floor in a crumpled heap in his lap. The two of you look at each other for a beat, strangely close, before he shoves you off, sending you rolling.

“Holy shit,” Jimin gasps. “You’re fucking heavy.”

He swats at the invisible dirt on his shoulders and straighten out his pants as he moves to his feet. “You sure took your time.”

You roll your eyes and get up by yourself. What a dick. “Whatever. You said you made lunch. I’m hungry.”

He stares at you for a long moment before he glances away. “Follow me.”

Jimin leads you into the living room and nods to the comfy looking couch. “Sit.”

“I’m not a dog,” you snap but do as you were told.

He snorts and yells from where he had disappeared into the kitchen, “Dogs follow commands much better than you do.”

You bite down on the urge to bark back at him. Instead, you pull your legs up to your chest and glare at the huge TV across from you. The screen was showing a preview for a new romance drama that you had heard about but you had no intention of watching.

Love stories rarely moved you in a positive way. Instead, they filled you with a strange cloying sensation, like being stuck in a hot, sweaty room with barely a sliver of wind. You search for the sweet relief that the wind should give you, but the feeling of overbearing heat persists. In fact, it only gets worse the more you move around. So, you try succumbing to the temperature, but that only makes you feel pathetic.

Looking or not looking at love in motion - either way, you felt suffocated.

Jimin returns and drops down beside you. He nudges your legs so you make space on your lap for the plate in his hands. He says, “I hope you don’t have any allergies.”

You roll your eyes. “It would be a little late if I did.”

He pauses for a moment before he laughs, a little meanly. “You’re right. Eat up.”

He had made dakgangjeong with a side of yellow rice. It smells fragrant and your stomach gurgles in hunger.

Jimin had already started chowing down but when he notices you hadn’t begun eating, he tosses you a scathing look. “What? It’s not fancy enough for you or something, Princess?”

You roll your eyes. “You gave me a plastic spoon.”

He scoffs. “Should I have given you a pair of chopsticks so you can jab the end into my eye and make a run for it? Not likely. Figure it out.”

You struggle a little with the food, getting the sweet-and-spicy chunks of boneless chicken and rice into your mouth, much to Jimin’s amusement. He lets out odd snorts when bits of meat misses your mouth and falls back into the bowl or into your lap, much to your annoyance. You jab him in his side with your elbow, only one time, sharp and purposeful, and he lets out a gasp of air.

“Fuck, YN,” he whines, rubbing at the sore spot. “What are you, made of metal?”

“Only 69%,” you retort, rolling your eyes. You ask, “Can we change the channel? All this love shit is giving me the creeps.”

Jimin looks your way before he nods. “I don’t like romance stuff either.”

“Why? You had no problem being all lovey-dovey with misery-guts earlier,” you retort. “I thought you’d eat this love crap up.”

“You mean Tae?” Jimin laughs, but the sound is strained. “Nah, that’s just… I don’t know, it’s just that we aren’t together-together.”

You rear your head back for a moment, running each incident of stomach-turning PDA you had witnessed in the very few interactions you had with both men, and you can’t stop yourself from asking, shock evident on your face, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Jimin shrugs, running his tongue across his teeth a few times, contemplative, before he explains, “What Tae and I are can’t really be explained with words. He’s my person, you know? My soulmate. I look at him and I see everything.”

“You love him… But you aren’t ‘together-together’?”

Jimin nods, as if it explained everything.

“Why?”

“Our lifestyle isn’t really conventional,” he explains, a touch shyly. It didn’t suit the other man, who you had only ever viewed as sarcastic and cocky. He seems… soft. “Kookie, Tae and I are… fated. Right now, Tae and I have to stay as we are.”

You take a moment. “Isn’t that painful?”

Jimin looks at you, eyes a fraction wider in surprise. “A bit.”

“You’re being frighteningly honest,” you mutter. “Just date him. What the fuck could go wrong?”

Jimin bites his bottom lip. “There’s a lot we have to do before Tae and I can take that step. We… We just can’t.”

He’s being intentionally vague but you don’t feel like it’s your place to pry. You have your secrets, secrets that you would prefer to take to your grave if given the chance, so you shut your mouth and turn your eyes to the screen, leaving the pink-haired man alone to his rapidly-darkening thoughts.

Some time later

Jimin actually doesn’t leave your side for the whole afternoon. He walks you to the bathroom, to the living room, to the kitchen when you want a glass of water. It feels like you had grown a tumor overnight. If tumors made stupid comments, read comics at a snail’s pace or listened to female rap music a touch too loudly in its headphones.

You don’t even try to escape. The few times you were able to walk past the front door, with Jimin’s grip tight on the inside of your elbow, you noticed the lock there. It was a touchpad lock that required a passcode to leave as well as one to enter. You presumed both were different, but even if they had been the same, you hadn’t gotten a look at the password when you first got brought here because of Jungkook’s looming presence and Taehyung’s unnecessarily broad back.

Moments of absolute frustration flash through you during the few hours you spend lonely but not alone.

You feel bouts of sickening anxiety standing in the long hallway, seeing echoes of memories in the portraits and photographs lining the walls. Happiness is etched onto the faces of your three captors, making the trio seem friendly, approachable - kind, even. But, Jimin poking his head over your shoulder and giving you the backstory of each picture is enough to remind you of your involuntary incarceration and you are brought right back to the realization that these men are capable of more than you can even comprehend.

Barbs of nausea spike through your chest whenever you see a bird pass in front of the high windows, free in a way that you had taken for granted. It brings to mind your history, the one that you have tried so valiantly to forget, to escape, to out-run. The clawed hands of the ghosts of your past reaching out from behind a ragged and beaten door, one that is barely holding onto its hinges. One day, those same hinges were doing to blow apart and crumble into dust before your very eyes. But for now, you can keep those memories at bay and that’s enough.

It has to be enough.

You try to escape to the bathroom whenever this would happen to throw up, closing the door behind you while Jimin waited in the bedroom, pretending to be ignorant of the sickly pallor of your skin and the shallowness of your breathing. The bile in your throat tasted too familiar, waves of sickness crashing over you until you are left shivering. Jimin gives you a cup of green tea after, wordlessly. You don’t want to think of the pity that passes through his eyes that you caught sight of the one time you looked him in the eye.

Jimin texted a lot too. You didn’t have to ask who he was talking to.

Jungkook.

He comes back just before it gets dark.

The sky is cloudy, it had started to rain, and you had made a home in the armchair in front of the window, acceptance finally having settled like a blanket around your shoulders. You hadn’t moved for about an hour, staring listlessly out of the window, watching the people go about their lives.

The sound of the passcode being tapped in followed simultaneously by the scratching of paws catches your attention and Jimin perks up from where he is laying on his back, watching the flame flicker enticingly from the mouth of the intricately-designed lighter in his hand. He seemed to be enthralled by the flame, almost as if he were consumed by it.

“Bam!”

He hops up and opens his arms, only to be attacked by a huge, black dog.

The dog excitedly hops around Jimin, sniffing him all over, tail wagging in happiness. Jimin scrunches the dog’s face, giving him kisses all over the crown of his head, and he giggles.

He looks up from where he is patting Bam’s huge head and he says, “You got him back?”

Taehyung kicks off his shoes and walks into the room, grabbing Bam’s collar and tugging him gently to the kitchen.

“He wanted to come home,” he replies, simply. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence in the house, and while it didn’t piss you off because you wanted to talk to him, you still felt uncomfortable with the ease in which he dismisses you. It isn’t like you wanted to be here either!

Jungkook walks in behind Taehyung, quietly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his mask still covering the bottom half of his face. He approaches you slowly, and your pulse increases with each step he takes. His eyes are a little wide, as if he were wrestling with a caged animal.

He drops to one of his knees in front of you and says, resting his mask on his chin, “YN… Did you have a good day?”

Jungkook gives you a small smile, gentle, and he reaches for your hand but at the last moment, thinks better of it, dropping his hand and letting it awkwardly rest in his lap.

You stare down at him. “What kind of a day do you think I had, genius?”

His hopeful expression shutters into something guarded. “S-Sorry. I just- I thought staying out would make you feel a bit more… relaxed. It might let you get used to... used to being here without... I don’t know, without feeling suffocated.”

“You thought wrong.”

He flinches. “YN…”

“If you thought you being away would’ve made me feel even an iota better, you would have never come back,” you snarl before shooting to your feet. “Jimin, I’m going to the bathroom.”

Jungkook grabs your wrist, loosely, and says, eyes watery, “YN, I’m trying-”

“Trying to what?” You snap. “Trying to piss me off?”

He sniffles, staring at the floor. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

You slap his hand away and stomp off toward the bedroom, feeling rather than seeing Jimin awkwardly trail behind you. Taehyung and Jimin share a long look, the younger of the two tossing a hard look in your direction that promised retribution of you kept up these brattish antics.

Taehyung got it - he really did.

But Jungkook was like a big kid, and you were breaking his soft heart.

Taehyung watches as Jungkook pulls a small bouquet from his backpack and feels his chest tighten up. He had hidden them there just in case Bam had gotten too excited in the car and crushed them with his tendency to jump on Jungkook’s chest.

The youngest wordlessly hands the pale pink flowers to Taehyung and walks into the kitchen. He swipes at his nose with his sleeve, pulling out a bottle of something clear from the refrigerator, and pops the cap.

“Kookie…”

“Stop, hyung,” he says, after taking a long gulp. His voice sounds like it has been cut with a thousands shards of glass. “It doesn’t matter. Give it to Jimin. You know he likes the color pink.”

Jungkook spends some time sitting on the balcony, right under the jutted out roof, trying like hell to ignore what he knew was going on inside. He contemplates every decision that lead him to the situation he has found himself in - maybe he shouldn’t have ever walked into the library in the first place. Maybe then he wouldn’t know how painful it was to watch your beautiful eyes fill with such a degree of disdain.

Once it started getting too cold, the rain soaking his hoodie and making him shiver, he comes inside. He pulls the hoodie off, tossing it into the corner, leaving a trail of clothes behind him as he walks back to his room. YN is curled in the corner of the room, sleeping. You ignored the bed, choosing instead to wrap yourself up in his bedsheets and hide yourself away in the corner. Your hair is poking out from a small hole in the bundle of sheets and the steady rise and fall tells him that you are sleeping.

He showers quickly, leaving the door cracked slightly open because his anxiety wouldn’t let him leave you with an option to leave without him knowing.

Jungkook couldn’t even tell you how pretty you looked, you didn’t give him a chance.

He had run through the conversation a thousand times in the car with Taehyung. What to say to charm you, to compliment you on your smile and your eyes, how not to look at you for too long in case it made you uncomfortable, but somehow within seconds he had ruined it with his stupid mouth and lingering gaze.

A fresh wave of tears silently fall from his eyes, already puffy and sore from all the rubbing. He tries to stop himself from making noise by biting down on his bottom lip and shoving his knuckles into his mouth like he used to when he was a kid to keep the frustrated cries from escaping, but it doesn’t work.

He keeps crying.

And it comes from the core of him. The knowledge that he might never see the corners of your eyes crinkling in that same warm way he remembers from the library. He doesn’t care if it was a composition of all your best parts that you left on display, hiding the shadows of your personality behind a brick wall. He feels robbed of the experience of you.

He’s angry and frustrated and in pain, and it just doesn’t end.

Jungkook tries to ground himself in the moment. He traces his favorite tattoos, he counts to a hundred five times over just to keep himself from screaming and disturbing your slumber. He counts his breaths and snaps bands on his wrist so he doesn’t think about worse things like the molly he stashed in his drawer or the way it makes him feel.

Maybe if you woke up to find him near dead, it might make you feel something other than hatred for him.

The both of you lay on the floor that night, with Jungkook laying on his side in front of the bedroom door and you curled in a protective ball in the corner.

It wouldn’t be possible for you to leave without stepping over his body and he was a light sleeper, even without the anxiety coursing through his veins. Still, he doesn’t get a wink of rest that entire night, every time he thinks he can relax enough to actually drift off, his body jerks and he’s back to being hyper-alert again.

Jungkook counts his fingers, he taps out rhythms on his upper-thighs, he paces quietly, peeking at you every once in a while to make sure you were still breathing - some hideous part of him worrying that you might try to escape him in death.

He would follow you, you know. He knows he would.

He even brings Bam into the room so the dog can sleep on his legs, knowing that he has always found solace in Jungkook since he was a puppy.

He pats his dog’s head and hums out the bare bones of a song that is forming in his head, the melancholy and anguish that has built up in his spine finally easing as his fingers tap out a perfect rhythm on his toned thighs, wishing, instead, that he could be laying beside you, holding you tightly instead of simply watching you, obsessively, from across the room.

Chapter 7: ‘Integrity’

It doesn't take long to get back to their apartment - their safe space. You try to track it, keeping an eye on the turns left and right that they make, but it all gets too confusing in your brain after a while.

Initially, the car ride is filled with barely tolerable silence.

Jungkook was insistent on sitting next to you, despite the other two boys telling him it might not be the best idea. He hardheadedly refused to stray from your side, despite your icy expression and the stiff line of your shoulders, and the obvious disapproval of his brothers. You hardly get a word out before the shaggy-haired asshole with the intricate neck tattoo takes the wheel and Jimin hops in the passenger seat. The pink-haired bastard doesn’t waste a second before he tips an imaginary hat in the rear-view window when he catches your eye.

His lips curl up in a smug smirk and you snarl, “I should’ve taken your eye out when I had the chance.”

He blanches a little before locking eyes with Jungkook in the same mirror. Jimin grumbles, insolently, “I told you I wasn’t lying.”

Jungkook sits a touch closer to you, cautious as to not touch you too much, as if scared of setting you off somehow.

Good, you think. He shouldn’t want to get close to you.

Despite the impromptu hugging session you had found yourself in some minutes before the start of the drive, the boy seemed awfully… Well, shy. He couldn’t maintain eye contact for too long, eyes flitting down to his fingers, twisting them in his lap, and picking at his cuticles.

The driver glances back when he stops at a red light and reaches back to clasp his hand, gently. He chastises, softly, “Don’t do that, Kookie. You might start bleeding.”

Jungkook shoots a side-long glance your way, cheeks ruddy. He whines, brow puckering in embarrassment, “Hyung.”

The driver snorts before turning his attention back to the road. “Sorry, kiddo.” He glances over at Jimin and asks, “Pretty, you wanna listen to some music?”

Pretty?

“We’re in the middle of an active kidnapping and you want to put on a soundtrack?” Jimin asks, quirking a brow, very obviously amused. “Really, Taehyung?”

The other guy - Taehyung - shrugs, disinterestedly. “I was just askin’.”

“Of course I do,” Jimin responds, easily, shuffling through his playlist on his phone. A satisfied expression overtakes his face when he finds the song of his choice. He looks back over his shoulder, catching your eye, and says, “I hope you like Hot Girl Shit.”

You roll your eyes and turn your eyes back out of the window.

Megan Thee Stallion’s voice filters through the speakers, practically vibrating through your spinal cord with how loud it is. You try hard as you might to ignore the three other bodies in the vehicle. In fact, you close your eyes, hoping like hell you could just turn back the last twenty-four hours and never go back to that crappy coffee shop so you wouldn’t have ever had to meet the pink-haired fucker in the front seat.

Maybe then everything you had put together wouldn’t be falling apart so easily right in front of your eyes. Your flimsy house of cards was tumbling to the ground and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Alas, wishing alone did nothing to change the direness of your situation and that left you in a wretched mood.

A petulant part of you wants to kick the back of his seat but you were sat behind Taehyung and he seemed like more of a hard-ass than Jimin was, so you let the idea, no matter how pleasurable, go and slowly find yourself melting into the heated seats.

A brush of skin on yours sometime later has your eyes flashing open, suddenly painfully alert. You glance over to see Jungkook, seemingly exhausted, relaxed in the seat beside you. His eyes are closed and he is breathing slowly, but he’s holding your pinky finger as if it’s a lifeline.

Jimin asks, softly, “Is he sleeping already?”

You look over to find Jimin already looking at you, intently. You respond, tersely, “Guess so.”

Jimin gets this pinched look on his face and Taehyung mutters, shooting worried glances at the sleeping man beside you, “He’s been running on adrenaline alone for over an hour. I’m not surprised.”

You move your hand from his hold, putting it firmly in your lap, but it seems to trigger something like panic in Jungkook. He huffs, furrowed brow deepening as his lip curls. In his sleep, Jungkook gnaws at his bottom lip and stretches out, pushing his hips out, shifting to try and get comfortable.

“Hold his hand,” Jimin hisses, sharply.

You glare at him through the mirror, defiantly, ready for another argument, but to your surprise, he doesn’t look demanding or angry - only concerned for his friend.

“Please, YN,” he whispers, watching Jungkook start to twitch harder in his sleep.

You recognize the beginnings of a nightmare.

A small part of you pities him, he looks so uncomfortable and scared, but you step on it - the soft part of you that recognizes him as vulnerable and pitiable.

He’s your kidnapper, YN. Stop being so fucking weak.

You exhale, annoyed, but do as you are told, awkwardly nudging your hand back into his perimeter and you watch, slightly fascinated as Jungkook’s hand slowly searches for your own. His fingers brush yours, tentatively, before he encompasses your hand with his own and pulls it into his lap, making you nearly fall over in your seat. The crease of his forehead smooths out and his entire body relaxes, his head lolling back and his mouth falling open to let out barely-audible snores. Even though you are halfway leaning over the backseat, he seems more than comfortable, so you unenthusiastically shift until you are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the bulky, snoozing man.

Taehyung’s lips pull up in a small smile, and Jimin gives you a grateful look. He mouths, “Thank you” before turning back to face the front and he taps out the rhythm of the song against the hand-rest. Taehyung reaches over the console to grab his hand, drawing indiscernible shapes on the back of the pink-haired man's hand with his thumb.

Oh, you realize. They must be dating.

That makes sense.

You try not to stare but the sight of the lightly flushing pink-haired man and the intimidating pillar of misery sharing a moment of lovey-dovey, ooey-gooey romance doesn’t instinctively make your stomach turn.

Honestly, you have always found love relationships intriguing. Not in an envious way, you try to convince yourself. But instead, in a purely clinical, curious way. You watched romance movies often, people-watching at the library as couples sometimes come in to peruse the stacked walls, kissing in hidden corners of the bibliotheca, spending hours mutually lost in alternate worlds of fiction.

It always intrigued you, but you weren’t normal. Wishing for something so regular as a healthy love relationship was outside of your capacity. Nobody would understand all your quirks and idiosyncrasies - all of your traumas that made you so prickly, distant, and unapproachable. It was too much work. It was better if you just stayed alone with your imagination, with your movies and books.

You hear that the thought of love is better than the actual experience.

The car pulls into a private compound with high, expensive-looking buildings surrounded by patches of neatly clipped trees and playgrounds, pulling you out of your depressing reverie.

You already feel out of place but the two men in the front don’t even bat an eyelid at the luxury you were entering. The security guards bow respectfully as they permit access, neither eye finding yours in the backseat, but you don’t expect them to, taking into consideration the dark tint on the windows. You try to discern where you are, but nothing about your surroundings feels familiar, but why would it?

You are entering the upper echelon of Korean wealth and opulence.

They enter the underground car park and park in a private parking spot. The car to the right is a bulky black Jeep and the one to the left is one that you are sure you’ve seen on advertisements in passing - white, sleek, expensive, and totally out of your financial reach. You don’t even want to touch it as the door is opened.

Jimin gets out of the car and opens the door on your side. He makes some space for you to climb out and he says, when he notices your tentative expression, “Don’t worry. It’s mine. You won’t scratch it. Come on out.”

You gesture to where Jungkook has your hand in an even tighter hold than before and say, drily, “I would if I could.”

“Kookie,” Taehyung says, reaching back from the driver’s spot to tap the sleeping man’s knee. “Stop faking.”

One of his doe eyes cracks open and he flushes around his collar, clearly embarrassed over being called out. “Hyung.”

Stupefied, you ask, “You were faking this whole time?”

Jungkook goes quiet, letting go of your hand, albeit a touch reluctantly. “Not the whole time.”

You enquire, “When did you wake up?”

“When we pulled into the complex,” he admits, awkwardly. He tries to laugh, his bunny teeth peeking out, but he notices how unamused you seem to the smile slips from his face in an instant. He continues, more seriously, “The speed bumps always wake me up.”

“Oh my-”

Frustrated, you throw yourself out of the car and shove past an amused Jimin who is barely holding back his laughter.

You hiss, threateningly, “Quit laughing, dick-face.”

Jimin puts up both hands in surrender and comments, sarcastically, “Your word is my command, my Queen.”

Taehyung grabs you under the armpit, pulling you along towards the staircase.

Jimin complains, “Tae, it’s fifteen floors.”

“No cameras,” the other man retorts, simply. “Or, do you want the cops coming here?”

Jimin groans before he taps the elevator button and says, simply, “Ya’ll can walk. I’m taking the elevator.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but he replies, good-naturedly. “Never a team player.”

Jungkook, who hasn’t taken his eyes off where Taehyung is touching you, jumps in. “I- I can walk her up, Hyung.”

“You can’t be trusted by yourself with her,” he retorts, easily. “She’ll just bat her eyelids and you’ll fold like a stack of cards.”

Taehyung gives him a long look over his shoulder as if daring him to deny his words but the other man just hangs his head and looks down at his hands.

“Exactly,” Taehyung says.

Jimin steps into the elevator once it pings and disappears, tossing a playful salute your way. You wish you could kick him in his stupid, smug face, but you have a feeling Taehyung would snatch you straight out of the air and toss you into the ceiling before you had a chance.

Taehyung opens the door and nudges you inside first, moving towards the staircase, but he is stopped by Jungkook grabbing your hand in a tentative grip. He holds your pinky and ring finger, tugging a touch insistently, but his eyes aren’t on you - they are on Taehyung.

“Let me hold her hand at least, Hyung,” Jungkook pleads, quietly. “Let go of her, okay?”

Taehyung shoots a glance down to where he is holding your arm before he promptly releases you.

“Go ahead, Kookie,” he responds, handing you over like a limp doll. He holds you for a moment, reclaiming your attention and he warns, seriously, “He can walk you up these stairs like a lady or I can knock you out and carry you like a sack of potatoes. Your choice.”

“Suck my dick,” you retort, lip curling in distaste.

Jungkook makes a noise of displeasure in the back of his throat but he pulls you to his side. “You shouldn’t provoke him like that.”

You glare at the taller man but say nothing, choosing instead to stomp by his side. He doesn’t struggle to keep up pace with you, which only pisses you off more, because of the three of you, it seems as if you were the only one who was having trouble with the stairs. And it only got worse the higher you got.

“I can carry you if you want,” Jungkook suggests, delicately. He moves to reach for you as if to offer you his back but you only feel yourself get angrier at him.

Where does he get off, treating you like you couldn’t take care of yourself?

Like you were weak?

It’s his fault you were in the situation in the first place.

You know while your anger is valid, it was definitely misplaced. But the look in his eye, that hopelessly adoring look, was too similar to something you only recognized in the eyes of the person who is the reason all of this bullshit in your life started and you got mad.

And, oh, you got so mad. Red bleeds into your vision and your body is moving without your permission.

Instinctively, you slap his hand away, the sound slashing through the air, loud enough to shock Taehyung who snaps his head to look back at you in surprise but you don’t lose your momentum. Instead, you glare up at him, fire burning in your eyes, and you spit, jabbing your finger in his direction, “I don’t need your fucking help. Don’t put your hands on me again.”

You stomp past Taehyung, who only watches you pass by, intrigued. Jungkook makes an aborted move to grab you but seems to think better of it.

You don’t know what you would have done if you felt his hands on your body for another moment.

Speedily, you reach the fifteenth floor, with Taehyung and a silent Jungkook hot on your heels and you rip the door open, rage pushing you ahead even though you know full-well that what awaits you is unlikely to be the definition of a ‘fun time’.

There is only one apartment on the floor, so you presume the door at the end of the corridor is theirs. Taehyung moves ahead of the two of you, tugging up the keypad and quickly tapped in the number. You couldn’t see what it was, his broad body hiding the password from your line of sight, but even if he hadn’t been standing directly in the way, you wouldn’t have been able to focus, considering the waves of awkward intensity rolling off Jungkook’s body as he hovers beside you.

You can feel his eyes on you, practically burning into the side of your face, and even from where he is positioned in your periphery, you can feel the tension in his body that betrays his distress.

Fuck him.

The door swings open and Taehyung steps inside, kicking his shoes off to the side, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Honey, we’re home,” he sing-songs.

Even from where you are standing, you have never seen such an elegant living space before in your life. The walls are embellished with bronze and lined with detailed, golden strips.

The reception is a wide area, an expensive rug beneath a heavy cherrywood table. Straight past there is a small foyer leading to three other rooms that you can’t see into from your place, awkwardly loitering in the reception area.

Jimin walks in from a room to the right and tosses his arm around Taehyung’s back, shoving a hand in his back pocket.

“Welcome to our home,” the pink-haired man says, eyes crinkling as he beams at you.

Your expression of annoyance doesn’t falter for even a moment and the tension between you and Jungkook must be palpable enough for him to notice almost immediately.

Jimin shares a brief look with Jungkook, and he seems to notice something unseemly on the other man’s face. He asks, “Why do you look like you’re about to cry, Kookie?”

Jimin looks up at Taehyung, the question clear on his face.

Taehyung gestures to you with his chin, disinterestedly.

“Ask your guest,” he retorts, sarcastically, scrolling through his phone.

Jimin prompts, eyes raised, “Well?”

“I didn’t do anything,” you deny, but it sounded weak, even to your ears. You continue, frowning, “I just didn’t want him to pick me up.”

“Don’t be mad at her, Hyung,” Jungkook says, and even though you refuse to look at him, you feel your heart twinge at the sorrow in his voice. He really does sound close to tears, voice thick and trembling. “I was being too much.”

Jimin stares, disapprovingly, but bites down on his bottom lip to stop himself from saying anything. He tosses his hands up and says, “Fine. I’m saying nothing.”

But he promptly turns on his heel and disappears back the way he came. He might not have said anything, but his distaste was clear and obvious in his attitude.

Not that you gave a fuck.

Taehyung follows behind his boyfriend, leveling you with a purposeful look as he goes.

Jungkook says, softly, “Do you… I can show you around if you want, YN?”

You turn your body to finally look at Jungkook to properly look him from top to toe, and you see how curved in his shoulders are, like he is trying to make himself smaller - less intimidating, you realize a moment later. Your brows furrow in upset and you ask, quietly, “Are you serious about this? You aren’t going to let me go?”

Jungkook’s jaw ticks and he avoids your eyes, looking down. His dark eyebrows draw together, as if in pain at the mere thought, and he whispers, “You’ll leave if I let you go.”

“Jungkook,” you say, reaching for his hand, hoping to appease whatever obsessive need to be around you. You barter, softly, “Come on…”

Jungkook looks up at you, one time, locking eyes with you, before he pulls himself away, wrapping his arms around himself, tight. He whimpers, “Stop doing that.”

“Jungkook,” you say, trying again. “Just- Let me go. I’ll stay around. I have nowhere else to go anyway.”

Jungkook shakes his head, some of his hair falling into his eyes, and he declares, seriously, “You can’t go anywhere. You can’t.”

He moves to walk past you but you grab for him, wrapping your hand around his forearm and you plead with your eyes.

For the first time, though, he rips himself away from you and he slams his hand down on the nearby table, the sound scaring the daylights out of you.

“No,” he snaps, eyes unfocused as he glares down at you and his nostrils flare as panicked breaths escape him. “If I have to lock you in this apartment for the rest of your life, I will. You- Just stop trying to leave me.”

Jungkook and you share an intense look, neither one of you relenting for a long moment, breathing heavily.

“I won’t ever forgive you for this,” you tell him, resolutely, after a long pause. “I’ll never forgive you.”

His lower lip trembles but he refuses to accede.

“Fuck you,” you hiss and storm past him, further into the house.

You have no idea what is waiting for you when you do, but you can’t stand being around him any longer. The smell of his cologne, the watery yet determined look in his eyes, the way his lips tremble as if he were the one hurt by the situation.

It was all too much - too fucking much for you to take.

You turn to the left instead of the right (where Taehyung and Jimin had walked off towards) and push open the door to reveal a nicely stocked library. An entire wall is filled with books of all thicknesses and heights, two oval-shaped tables, and a medley of armchairs dotted around the room. One sofa is against the opposite wall, next to the large set of windows.

The view is beautiful - truly. It is one of the most impressive vantage points of the Seoul sky-line that you had ever seen, but you are still filled with so much barely resolved anger that you can’t even take it in fully.

The door closes behind you but nobody comes inside, thankfully. You don’t know what you would do if he forced himself to be in your presence any longer. Still, the sound of the door closing behind you feels like a noose around your neck that only grows tighter with each second.

You drop down on the sofa, exhaustion washing over you instantly, and you close your eyes, trying to fight off the impending headache that is blooming behind your eyes.

Instead of being on a plane to an unnamed island somewhere hot and sexy, you are stuck in the (admittedly gorgeous) apartment of your obsessed stalker and his freaky found-family. Not only that, Seokjin’s words of warning echo in the back of your mind like a shadow, reminding you of the absolute danger you were still in.

If he found you again, there would be nothing you could do to escape this time.

The miserable thought used to pass through your mind that the last time you got away was a fluke. That the last few years had been some kind of sick and twisted foreplay, that he was just toying with you - letting you convince yourself that you were free, only to clench his fist around your throat and drag you back to his side, kicking and screaming.

A shuddering breath escapes your mouth and you feel it well up in the back of your throat.

Something you haven’t felt for a very long time.

The urge to cry.

What the fuck are you supposed to do?

-----

Jungkook POV

It was going to hell.

Nothing was going right. She kept trying to leave, so I had no choice - I know that, Jimin knows that, Tae knows that. But she... She just wouldn’t understand where I was coming from.

She wouldn’t see my side of things. All I wanted was to bundle her up in a warm space, to keep her happy and safe and with me - but she kept trying to leave me. 

How can I love her if she keeps me at arms length?

How can I be gentle with her if she keeps pushing me away?

I pace the length of the hallway once more, gnawing at my nailbed even though I had long torn my cuticles to shreds, my stomach rolling as another wave of nausea passes over me at the instability of my situation.

YN was in my bedroom. Proximity-wise, YN and I have never been closer. She was sleeping in my bed, accoridng to Jimin, after taking a shower in my bathroom and wrapping up her supple and warm body in my towels and dressing in my clothes. Nothing could get me harder, faster, than knowing she was waiting for me, balmy and warm and so fucking soft. My dick twitches again, my lower head and my upper head clearly not on the same fucking page.

Emotionally, however, we couldn’t be further from one another.

The way I went about the whole thing wasn’t the best - sure, I can admit that.

But I didn’t hit her. I didn’t bruise her or abuse her. I just needed her to stay fucking put, right where I can see her.

Taehyung laughs to himself, so unbearably amused by the whole thing that it was pissing me off. I didn’t mock him like this when he got so drunk, he pissed himself in the bathtub after the only time Jimin verbalised his desire to break up. They didn’t end up doing it, of course, but Tae was inconsolable for days. I can’t stand the smell of Jameson anymore and my nose bridge hasn’t been right since that four-day bender.

“You look pathetic,” Taehyung remarks, lightly. “Just go in there and show her who’s boss.”

“If you wanted me to get my eyes scratched out, that might be a good idea,” I retort, sardonically. “YN can’t stand to be in the same room as me, let alone let me close enough to toss my weight around.”

Tae hums. “You’re sure about her, right?”

I nod, without a moment of hesitation. “She’s everything and more than what I thought she might be. She’s so fucking perfect, hyung.”

“She sure is interesting,” he comments, brow quirking. “I still don’t like her for how she treated Jimin.”

My lips purse in agreement. “That wasn’t... That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Jimin is also at fault,” he retorts, fairly. “He was dicking around where he shouldn’t have been. YN didn’t deserve all of that.”

“Thank you, hyung,” I reply, unable to really smile considering the state of my emotions. I look up at him, gnawing at my bottom lip, and I ask, tentatively, “How... How did you do it?”

“Do, what?”

“Get Jimin to love you,” I finish, despondently.

Taehyung gives me a look, eyes softening at the corners and he reaches for my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Jimin already loved me long before ‘we’ happened. I never had to ‘get’ him to love me. He just did.”

I feel my shoulders drop at his words, my eyes filling with tears and a thick lump wedges itself in my throat, choking me.

“She’s never going to love me,” I whimper, falling into Taehyung’s chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close and pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. “She h-hates m-me so m-much.”

“She doesn’t know how good she has it with you,” Taehyung says, softly. “You’re so special and loving. She just has to see that. Stop crying, kiddo. It makes me sad.”

He wipes my tears away, and rocks me tenderly from side to side.

“I can’t- I can’t not have her, hyung,” I whisper. “I think I’ll go crazy.”

“If she leaves?”

“If she takes a step somewhere I can’t see or touch her, I feel like my chest is going to collapse,” I admit in a fast whimper. “I get dizzy and irrationally angry. She asked to leave earlier and my ears went quiet and fuzzy. I yelled at her and I didn’t even realize it... That terrified me.”

Taehyung rests his chin on my shoulder as he asks, “When you think about her leaving, do you imagine yourself hurting her to keep her by your side?”

I tense up, pushing my head further into his chest. “I’d never hit her. I just can’t imagine her being away from me.”

“Then make it so that she can’t exist away from you,” he says, simply. “Push yourself so deep into her that she doesn’t even consider the world if you aren’t in it right next to her.”

“Does that make me a bad person, hyung?”

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes scanning my face softly. “It makes you a man in love.”

- end - 

Chapter 5 - ‘Symphonic’

Pulling up at the club filled you with butterflies like it always would. You weren’t exactly the clubbing type, not that you didn’t enjoy shaking your tail-feather with friends, but your drop-down-and-get-your-eagle-on days were long behind you.

Or so you thought.

Of course, it would have been Tae who had you out at night, dressed as if somebody paid you to look pretty, wearing heels that had been doing nothing but gathering dust in the back of your closer since he had given them to you. Still, it was nice. Walking down the VIP line instead of having to wait with the regulars because the bodyguard knew your name and face - something to do with a table you didn’t pay for and guys you didn’t know.

You felt like a princess, like the main character in a movie.

When you walk inside and take off your coat, hanging it up in coat-check, you are hit with familiar smells - cigarette smoke that is going to stick in your hair for days, rum, beer and stick floors. It’s all wonderful.

Taehyung had told you that his booth was near the DJ decks, so you did your best to make your way through the throes of the crowd to reach him. A bar-tender walks past you and says, with an appealing smile, “Shots for pretty girls.”

You take one, green and sour, taking it to the head without a second’s pause. You yell, “Thank you,” but she’s already off to the next person.

Eventually, you reach the DJ decks and look around, brow furrowed in concentration. Trying to see through the many faces and thick smoke was difficult, but you are surprised by the feeling of someone’s hands on your waist.

“Wow, you’re so hot,” a stranger yells into your ear. Their breath smells heavily of tequila, a scent that makes you recoil instantly, and you try to step out of their perimeter. “Come, let’s dance!”

The person, a man with dark hair and a partially untucked shirt, keeps pulling at your wrist, adamantly trigging you as if you were supposed to go with him somewhere.

“I don’t want to,” you reply, pulling back and trying to steady yourself.

A large hand reaches over your shoulder to grab at your wrist and another simultaneously holds the man’s collar in an unyielding grip. “I feel like my girl told you to stop putting your creepy little hands on her.”

Taehyung towers over you, protectively, and shoves the man backward. The drunken guy disappears into the crowd but Taehyung glares anyway as if he wants to chase after him. After a beat, Taehyung wraps his hand around yours and knits your fingers together with practiced ease. He pulls you back the way he came, careful to not let you fall anywhere.

He pulls you in close once you are out of the sea of people and safe. “Are you okay, Juicy?”

You nod, a little shaken but mostly being honest. “I’m okay.”

“Look at me,” he says, tucking a finger under your chin and tugging you to glance up. “You sure? I can take you home right now.”

“It’ll take more than some no-name asshole trying to get in my pants,” you huff. “I came here to have a good time and I still want to do that.”

He frowns a little. “If you’re sure.”

You squeeze his hand in comfort and ask, excitedly, “Where this alcohol that I was promised?”

Taehyung leads you into the booth and says, “Guys, this is YN, the light of my life. Light of my life, these are the guys.”

You wave, brightly, making eye contact with each guy. “Hi!”

They all get to their feet and reach out for a handshake.

A man with tattoos and long wavy hair introduces himself. He has an eyebrow piercing and a tattoo on his neck that detracts from the youthful look in his eye and adds an air of danger. He says, “Jungkook. I make sure that he doesn’t brain himself on car parts.”

Taehyung messes up his hair as he chastises, “Yeah, right. Brat.”

A taller man with sandy-brown hair and deep, friendly dimples steps forward and says, warmly, “I’m Namjoon. Lovely to finally be able to meet you.”

A slightly shorter man with adorably curled ears and an impressive stylish dress sense comes and declares, a cute smile on his face, “I’m Hoseok, but everyone calls me Hobi.”

“Jimin,” the last man steps forward and says, and fucking HELL, he’s gorgeous. Plump lips, smooth skin, a strong nose: just like Taehyung likes them. You’re surprised he hasn’t already pounced on him. Maybe he was taking your advice about sticking his dick in places before he thinks about them to heart. You share a brief look with Taehyung who only pinches you in your back, making you jerk in surprise.

The man with the plump lips looks between the two of you, his brow furrowing a little before he moves back to sit down.

Taehyung ducks down and he warns, in a whisper, “Don’t say anything.”

“Oh, but he’s so cute,” you reply, equally as quiet, turning to face him with a hand to his chest. Taehyung glares down at you, eyes sharp before he puts a flute of something golden and sparkling in your hands.

“Drink this and stop talking,” he retorts, tapping your nose with a long finger. “Silly girl.”

You do as you are told, sipping the alcohol and letting it spread out on your tongue. You aren’t a champagne kind of girl - you loved wine and when you used to party, you were a champion of Bacardi.

“You look like you’d rather drink something else,” Jimin comments sometime later, teasingly, as he nods down at your half-full second glass of bubbly. “I got something else if you’d like.”

He grabs a bottom of rum and shakes it, enticingly. “Will this do?”

“You’re my savior,” you whimper, downing the glass and taking a clean one from him. “What mixer?”

“Anything. We’ve got a bunch of tonic water, orange juice and I think there’s some Coke somewhere.”

“I’ll have the tonic water,” you reply, eagerly.

He grins, excitedly. “You’re my kind of drinker. The rest of them think I drink too much hard stuff. But there are only so many tequila sunrises and Palomas that I can take before I lose my mind.” Then he thinks for a moment before he suggests, “We should drink sometime.”

“That sounds like fun,” you respond with a warm smile. The pretty man looks at you, then over at Taehyung who is lost in conversation with Hobi and Jungkook, before his expression shutters and his smile becomes a touch melancholic.

You feel an arm drape itself over your shoulder and you are pulled into Taehyung’s drunken chest. Taehyung sing-songs, excitedly, “Hi, Honey.”

“Oh, you’re drunk,” you retort, holding some of his weight.

He moves you so you have your back to the rest of the group and he nuzzles his nose against your own. Taehyung is already really touchy-feely with you at the soberest of times, however, when he drinks, it becomes impossible to ignore. He would wrap his leg around yours, hold your hand, nuzzle your shoulder like a damsel-in-distress. And this time is no different.

“Come on, you’re heavy,” you say to him, trying to get him into the chair but he wrestles with you to keep himself standing.

He croons, “YN-ah… I have a surprise for you, y’know.”

You barely are able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he snickers, like a sneaky child. “It’s good though… I promise!”

You shoot a glance from Taehyung to Hobi and you ask, quirking a brow, “How much did he drink?”

“A whole lot more than us,” the stylish man replies. “Said he could handle it.”

“He’s a liar,” you reply, patting his cheek where it lay against your neck. He’s draped over your back, arms wrapped around your mid-section, and he is rocking lightly from side to side to the music. “He can’t drink more than a glass of wine an hour otherwise he’ll end up making a huge mess that I’ll end up cleaning up.”

“You live together?”

They seem surprised.

You nod, absent-mindedly playing with his hair as you answer, “Yeah, we do. We’ve lived together for as long as I can remember. We moved here together for a fresh start.”

Namjoon supposes, “From Daegu, right?”

“I wouldn’t have been able to survive without him,” you tell the group, turning over slightly so you are facing Taehyung, whose eyes are actually open, strangely lucid.

He stares down at you, eyes all warm and it makes you feel emotional, on the cusp of tears that only your best friend can bring out of you before something behind him catches his attention and he straightens out, suddenly excited.

“Hyung, you made it,” he says to the person behind you. He drunkenly chastises, “You took forever!”

You follow his line of sight and lock onto a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes.

The same eyes that have haunted your dreams for over half a year.

You follow the eyes down to take him all in, pale skin, pinked lips, wearing all black. He looked like an angel in the face but his aura screams unapproachability. You wonder if this is what it was like to be around him when he wasn’t with his precious daughter. His aura was so different during the day - he smiles all gummy and tender, his eyes crinkle in the corners, he wears brighter clothes. It’s almost like if he had told you he had an identical twin, you would believe he was the one before you instead of the Yoongi Min that you knew.

But, the recognition on his face lets you know that it is your Mr. Min - it’s absolutely him and you find the whole situation utterly absurd.

Your mouth falls open in shock as Mr. Min stares back, seemingly just as surprised as you were.

The man says, after a long pause, setting down the bottle of something brown and expensive on the table, “… YN?”

You miss the look of absolute shock that passes across the faces of the men behind you, sharing mutual looks of surprise and amusement over the situation.

You ask, “Mr. Min?”

“Yoongi,” he corrects, politely. His cheeks are rosy and you wonder if it’s due to the heat of the club. Whatever it is, you are feeling it too, suddenly feverish all over. He reminds you, lightly, “I told you last time to call me by my name.”

You exhale, cheeks burning. “R-Right. Sorry. Yoongi.”

Young looks up at Taehyung. “Kid, how do you know YN?”

You open your mouth to explain, but Tae simply drapes his arm over your shoulders and he says, “YN’s the most important person in my life.”

Yoongi looks between the two of you, back and forth for a long moment before something akin to realization blossoms on his face. His eyes become strange, almost cold, and he mutters, “Oh. I see. I, uh… I got some more liquor. So, drink whatever you want… I gotta go for a smoke.”

Jungkook asks, brows raised in surprise, “Hyung, you still smoke?”

“Cravings,” he admits, a little awkwardly, rubbing behind his neck. He shoves his hand into his pockets and disappears into the crowd of people without a single glance back.

There’s a bubble of awkwardness that descends on the booth before you turn to Taehyung and you pull him out of the booth, away from prying eyes. The others watch as you go, all curious but only one of them with an edge of suspicion in his eyes. Taehyung stumbles a little but you steady him and you ask, accusingly, “Was that my surprise?”

He nods, giddily.

“I figured out your Yoongi and my Yoongi were the same Yoongi,” he says, cheerily. He clasps both hands on either of your cheeks and squishes, playfully. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

You want to glare at him for the surprise, but the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach are too hard to contain. You grin a little, happiness painting itself across your features, as the rum that you had drank earlier spreads across your gut and makes you dizzy with euphoria.

“Tell me you’re happy, YN,” he asks, softly. “Otherwise I’ll feel bad.”

You lean back, looking up into his wide eyes, eyes that are searching for something in your own before you nod. You whisper, quietly, “I’m happy.”

Taehyung beams, brightly, and says, “Go talk to him.”

“He might want to be alone,” you suppose, but you glance away, towards the exit doors.

Taehyung nudges you in his direction and shoos you away. He mouths, “Go.”

You walk through the crowd, careful to not get any alcohol splashed on your clothes, and walk out of the club, down the two short flights of stairs until you come to the entrance and exit. You spot Yoongi’s tuft of soft brown hair across the street. He had taken off the cap on his head and was scrolling through his phone, an unlit cigarette between his lips, twisting a lighter around in his other hand.

You call from the entrance, “Yoongi!”

He glances up, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, and he straightens out. You walk over, careful of the passing cars, and Yoongi chastises, lightly, “You should wait at the lights.”

Yoongi’s POV

Of course, she was dating someone.

Of-fucking-course she had somebody, because why wouldn’t she?

I could barely keep myself together seeing her all dressed up, instantly growing hazy behind the eyes at the sight of her natural curls and being all prettied-up, dressed in white as if she were a fallen angel. I watched her smile as she said my name, lips and tongue-twisting around my title with practiced ease that made me feel as if I were falling into a sea of warmth.

And then, Taehyung, the lanky, shaggy-haired pain-in-the-ass throws his arms around her and she melts into his arms right in front of me and all I can do to keep myself from throwing up is to get out of there. My stomach had dropped straight to my toes and the urge to smoke came back.

I quit once Sena was born, thinking that having such an expensive habit with a newborn around wasn’t a good idea, especially once the divorce started and Mina left us. There have been plenty of days where all I wanted was to smoke a pack behind our building and fall into the familiar burst of relief that cigarettes always gave me, but Sena would always call for me at the right time, distracting me from the urge. Now, though, with nothing but pictures of my daughter to keep me from lighting the end of the cigarette that is pressed between my lips, I exhale, defeated, and move to spark it.

“Yoongi!”

I look up, surprised, and see you waving from the entrance of the club. It’s cold outside but you came out without a coat or jacket and you hop across the street, avoiding the passing cars carefully.

“You should wait at the lights,” is all that comes out of my mouth.

Her eyes crinkle into half-moons as she replies, “You’re such a dad.”

I feel my chest burn at the closeness of us. I had had a couple of shots at the house before I came to the club to get myself into the headspace of dealing with so much external stimuli, and the alcohol was getting to my head, only making me feel more amped up in your presence. I hope- No, I pray, I don’t say anything embarrassing once the alcohol takes more of my faculties.

“I can’t really turn it off,” I retort, taking the cigarette out of my mouth and crushing it. “I don’t smoke anymore. I bummed this one from somebody but I don’t… I shouldn’t smoke it.”

“You carry around such a heavy lighter just in case you want to smoke?”

I shake my head. I show her the bottom of the lighter, my name engraved in the metal, and hand it over to her. She turns the lighter around in her hand, flicking it on so a powerful flame flickers out despite the wind. Her face lights up with the flame, all pretty and framed with yellow, something that compliments the gorgeous undertone of her skin.

I explain, averting my eyes to something neutral - the flame. “It was a gift. I carry it around by the force of habit.”

She looks up through her long lashes and enquires, tenderly, “Doesn’t that make it hard when you get the cravings?”

I shake my head. “Actually, it kind of reminds me of the time in my life when I got it. And I don’t really want to go back there. So it works to deter me from going back.”

She kills the flame and hands it over into my palm, fingers brushing against my own. It makes me shiver so deep, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get all of these feelings out.

A particularly strong gust of wind makes you tremble, unsteady of your feet because of your high heels that elongate your spine and legs, drawing his eyes to parts of you that he has never seen before - not like this - and it makes his groin burn with desire. The cold must be getting to you as I see two peaks poke through the material of your dress and I let out a soft groan. Your nipples are hard and you haven’t even noticed.

I take off my jacket and throw it over your shoulders, needing to keep some semblance of decency before I find myself on my knees in full view of the club and beg for a chance to change your life.

“Let’s go inside,” I suggest, stomping down on the yearning with all my might. “The others must be waiting.”

She has a boyfriend. She has a boyfriend. She has a boyfriend. She has a fucking boyfriend, numb-nuts.

I keep chanting the words in my head every time she brushes against my side accidentally. When she throws a casual smile over her shoulder as I open the door for her. When she walks ahead of me first up the stairs and the sway of her hips was so enticing, I have to bite down on my fist to keep myself from touching her. When I have to put a hand on her lower back to guide her through the crowd until we get back to the boys.

When she walks straight into Taehyung’s eager arms and when I have to watch her give him a warm, long hug. His face pressed into her ample chest. His hands rested on her shapely waist. The sound of her cooing the drunk man.

Hours pass as I nurse my one drink of the night, sporadically catching YN’s eyes over Taehyung’s tuft of brown hair as he rests his face on her knees, too drunk to keep himself upright. Each time, I feel myself fall deeper and deeper into the pool of self-pity until I want nothing more than to grab the nearest person and just forget about my feelings.

I haven’t felt like this about another person for years, not really. Nobody has ever been good with me having Sena, with me being a single father, with me not being as emotionally available as other men might be. If it wasn’t my daughter, it was my job, and if it wasn’t my job, it was my personality. I was naturally quiet, a homebody, a little moodier than average, stubborn, and stiff. And all I can think of is how different Taehyung is to me. And how clear it was as to why someone as sweet and kind and patient as YN would want to be with someone like him instead of a stiff cobblestone like me.

Knowing that fact didn’t make it any easier to accept, though.

And by the time we got to calling all our cabs and herding each other into vehicles, saying our goodbyes, I could barely keep the perfunctory smile on my face.

YN pokes her head out of the cab’s window, Taehyung dead to the world in her lap, and she asks, “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine, YN,” I reply. “Had a little too much to drink.”

“No, you didn’t,” she replies, an adorable confused pout on her face. “You only had one glass of whiskey, didn’t you? I didn’t see you even take any champagne.”

Stop being so nice to me, I beg, in my head. I wonder if she can read the agony in my eyes. It’s making it harder to stop praying for more.

“Honestly, I’m good,” I respond, my tone a little tighter. “You should go. Tae’s drunk.”

She glances down at him and an enduring but amused smile spreads across her face. It kills me. It feels like a knife is being pressed deeper and deeper into my gut, and everything tastes like ash on my tongue. I have to look away when she starts caressing his sleep-slack face. I pat the top of the taxicab and take a step away.

“Get home same, Yoongi,” she commands, still seemingly unsure about leaving me alone. “Text me, okay?”

Oh, right.

We exchanged numbers.

We all did, early on in the night.

I almost wish I hadn’t. Because now I had a way of contacting her, I could reach out at any time of the day or night and something about YN’s being tells me that she would answer.

But how could I justify reaching out to someone who my friend (and let's be real, Taehyung was my friend, he was someone who relied on me and someone who made my days brighter) was in love with?

What does it matter in the grand scheme of things that I, also, loved her with everything in me?

- end - 

Chapter 4 - ‘Unsullied’

“She’s awfully fun to play around with,” Taehyung comments, tossing more of his chocolate covered almonds into his mouth. He hands some over to Jimin and Jungkook, who open their palms, without shifting their eyes from the TV screen. “She refuses to bend to any of my requests. She’s so cute.”

“You think? I haven’t met her yet, but I’ve heard about her,” the pink-haired dancer says, peeling an orange and tossing the rind into the bin as if it were a basketball. He hands a third to Jungkook and another third to Taehyung. “One of the girls in my contemporary class, Young-mi, is apparently close with her.”

Jungkook nods, stomach swooping strangely at the mention of you. “She’s a little headstrong but, from what I can tell, she’s a nice girl.”

“Hyung’s been trying, unsuccessfully, to break her down,” Taehyung says, excitedly. “He gets so mad when she just brushes him off.”

“It serves him right,” the youngest says, pushing some of his cherry red hair from his eyes. He recently bleached and dyed his locks, finally taking the leap to drastically change his appearance. Taehyung had been the one to do it for him, experienced with bleach and dye, and he’s proud of his work, liking how to colour contrasts with the maknae’s honeyed skin. “He’s too cocky sometimes, especially with girls.”

The way the older boys ran through girls never really appealed to Jungkook, considering he’s just come out the back end of a long-term relationship, only ending because his ex-girlfriend thought it pertinent to sleep with someone else during Freshers’ Week at her campus in Daejeon. He wasn’t a sucker, and he wouldn’t forgive cheating, no matter how much he loved her. That had been one of his hard limits, and she knew that. He's a stickler for faithfulness.

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t experienced women,” Taehyung says, making a lewd gesture with his hands, as if he were squeezing soft globes in his hands. Jungkook didn't need to a mind-reader to know where his head was at. His lips pull up in a salacious smirk, fangs peeking out dangerously. “They’re addicting.”

Jungkook snorts, turning back to the TV. “Are you forgetting that I’m not a virgin anymore, hyung?”

Taehyung lets out a gentle laugh at Jungkook’s affronted gawk. “No, silly. I mean, once you start to actively, you know, sleep around. You realise how fun it is. How easy it is. How good it feels. You and Seugi were dating for like, what, a year before you took that step?”

The maknae nods, adjusting his circle-framed glasses on the end of his nose. “It didn’t really feel great, either. Like, okay, it felt good, but in my head, I kind of thought, well, ‘is this it?’ You know?”

Jimin puts a hand on his shoulder, sending him an empathetic look, flipping his fluffy pink hair from his eyes. "You deserved better than that."

Taehyung gives him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good experience.”

“Seulgi was fine, I was fine. It just wasn’t meant to be,” he supposes, shrugging. Taehyung can scent the frustration on the maknae, but he leaves him be. Kookie deals with his emotions in a relatively healthy way, so he can’t complain, especially knowing that after his first break-up, he was in a much worse state, emotionally.

Jimin says, clapping his hands together, “That’s enough about this depressing stuff. Tell me about YN.”

Taehyung can’t stop the grin from reappearing on his face and he goes off, cheerily, “She’s funny, and fiery, despite her size. Even Yoongi-hyung thinks she’s interesting. He keeps going to her workplace, even though we have a coffee shop nearer to our apartment. He keeps pretending like he doesn’t, but I see the coffee cups in his car.”

Jimin’s brow raises at that, knowing how disengaged Yoongi likes to be with near enough everyone outside of their coven. To have caught his eye, and maintained his interest, there needs to be something noteworthy about you. He asks, “What does she look like?”

“She won’t accept my Instagram request otherwise I would show you,” the artist mumbles, put out, staring at his phone screen, icon with your name and the word ‘pending’ beside it, sending a new flash of annoyance through him. “And she doesn’t have any pictures on Line. Or, maybe I’ve been blocked from them – I don’t know. She’s being really difficult.”

Jimin shifts on the floor, adjusting himself to get more comfortable, before he asks, “Are you- Are you interested in her, as a woman? Or, just as something to play with?”

“Neither,” he admits. The idea of using you for sex hadn’t even come into his mind, strangely enough. The late nights in the library working on your content of the presentation, he’d never thought of trying it on with you. He thinks you’d smack him into the sun if he did. He’s not ashamed to say that he’s somewhat thrilled by the fact. “She’s fun to be around.”

Jimin rears back to stare at the artist, and he lets out a low whistle. “Well I’ll be damned. Taehyung finally seeing a girl as a person, and not a hole.”

“Let’s not be crude,” Taehyung chastises, with an amused look. “Her mouth is sharp enough to keep my penis disengaged.”

Jungkook perks up and, playfully, presses his finger into his ear, pretending to be a service agent. In a funny voice, he says, “The weapon has been holstered. I repeat, the weapon has been holstered.”

Taehyung shoves at him, laughing loudly. “Both of you are idiots.”

“Did I hear you guys mention YN?” Namjoon asks, stepping into the room from where he’s been holed up, writing up a composition on some long-dead homophobic poet from the 1700s. His eyes are puffy from a lack of sleep and he’s sipping on his AB-neg like it’s his lifeline. “Hoseok keeps talking about her, I’m starting to hear her name in my dreams.”

The two boys share a room. As do Jimin and Jin, Taehyung and Jungkook, which leaves Yoongi in the smallest room by himself. The white-blond composer often stayed up late, putting together his pieces, editing his tracks and playing instruments well into the night, as to not bother his room-mate, he elected to take the single room by himself. Plus, he prefers his own company, unlike someone like Jimin or Taehyung, who thrives around more people.

Taehyung bounces excitedly on the floor, making space for the leader of their coven to sidle beside him. When he drops down, Taehyung notices the smell of shampoo and body wash, realising that Joon must have just come out of the shower.

Unhappily, Jungkook pokes at the bags under Namjoon’s eyes, and asks, frowning, “What time did you get to sleep, hyung?”

“I didn’t,” he admits, ashamedly. “This composition is pretty important, and the professor is an ass, so he doesn’t give extensions, save for like… death. So, it was either sacrifice sleep, or sacrifice my grade.”

Jimin prompts, “But, you’ve finished now?”

He takes a long drag of the bagged blood, finishing it and crushing it in his hands. “Yep. Submitted and now, I finally feel like I can breathe.”

“Then, why aren’t you in bed?” The chastising tone of his voice surprises Jimin, Taehyung and Namjoon, but Jungkook appears serious. “You should be resting.”

“I have work,” he tells them, glumly. “The aquarium gave me a few days off to finish, thankfully, but I’ve got to go in for a couple of hours, just to show my face and make up for the time I took off.”

“Hyuuung,” Jungkook whines, unhappily. “You’re running yourself into the ground.”

“It’ll be fine,” he says, ruffling his hair. “Oh, that’s what’s different about you. Your hair. It looks good, Kookie. Who did it?”

Taehyung gestures to his face, extravagantly flipping his hair. “Moi.”

“It’s good. You always were good with hair,” he runs a hand through his own honey-blond locks, having been done by the same talented hands.

“My mom is a hair technician,” he tells the two of them. “If I weren’t good with hair, I’m sure it’d somehow offend her.”

They chuckle, enjoying the amicable silence, before Namjoon drifts off in Taehyung’s lap. “He’s more tired than he lets on,” he mumbles, carding a hand through his hair as he lightly snores in his lap.

“I hate it,” Jungkook admits, pouting. “He’s always doing so much for us, working himself when he doesn’t need to. He deserves a break.”

“Shall we treat him? We could drive down to the beach again,” Jimin says, wistfully recalling their three-day excursion, dropping all their responsibilities and just escaping from the pressures of their family life, of their titles, of their blood bonds. They just got to be a group of teenagers, for once. “We all could use it.”

He can tell that Jungkook is thinking the same as he is, by the wistful, nostalgic smile on his face. He nods. “Yeah, hyung. That sounds good. But, for now, can we let him sleep a little? He won’t have work until four or so. It’s not even midday yet.”

“Of course, Kook,” he says. The maknae retrieves a blanket and throws it over Namjoon’s shoulders. The leader lets out a happy sigh and nuzzles closer into Taehyung’s gut, throwing an arm around his tummy.

“He’s such a snuggler,” Taehyung laughs, quietly, playing with the metal at the cuff on his own ear. “He’s so cute.”

------

“He’s so weird,” you complain to yourself, tossing your mug in the sink and flicking on the hot water. You’d just finished a shift at work and had come home to a messy kitchen area, a frustrated grunt escaping your throat at the sight, but you clean up because if you don’t, and you still see it tomorrow morning, you’ll want to bury your housemates. “What kind of person does that? They’re all so fucking weird.”

“Who’s so weird?” Mei asks, joining you in the kitchen. She has a bowl of what was ramen in her hands, and sheepishly hands it over to you to wash out. You don’t even care to glare at her, simply dropping it into the hot water to soak, like the other pots and pans. “You’re making the Face.”

Intrigued, you echo, brow furrowing, “What Face?”

“The ‘I’m going to kill you and eat your kids’ face,” she says, grabbing a banana from the fruit basket atop the small fridge. “You usually reserve it for men at the bar who keep pestering you. And I know you haven’t been out for a long time, so what gives?”

“That’s because I’m too busy to go out. If I don’t have class, I have work. If I don’t have work, I’m in the library for this stupid project,” you whine, wanting to stamp your colourful sock clad feet against the linoleum and turn to begin washing the dishes. “But, thinking about it, I don’t have work next Saturday morning. Maybe I can sleep in.”

“You’re such a grandma,” she laughs. “Next weekend, there’s a house party over at the EXO frat house. Do you want to go?”

“Hm. Do I, also, want a yeast infection? The same answer applies,” you sass, grabbing a sponge and scrubbing at the stubborn red stains on the plates from last night.

She grimaces at the image. “Gross.”

You blow her a kiss and she catches it, holding it to her heart, before she asks, “Who were you talking about when I came in?”

You grumble, “Oh, just Kim Taehyung. In fact, all of those Bangtan Boys.”

The subject is still a little sore for her, remembering Hoseok’s cold attitude towards her a few weeks ago, although she says he’s been nothing but cordial with her since then. She ducks her head, shyly, and asks, “Have you- Have you, maybe, spoken to h-him since?”

You try not to wince at the reminder. You’ve tried to avoid him, but for some reason, since you found yourself on his radar, he pops up at the strangest times. When you and Taehyung have been in the library for hours, working on your project, he would drop in the seat opposite to you, feigning conversation with his brother before staring you down.

When you’d finished in the swimming pool at ass o’clock in the morning after a long study session, you walk out, hair still wet, to see him entering the pool at exact the same time. He’s been delightfully shirtless, but you couldn’t even concentrate on the trail of dark hair leading beneath his swim shorts, nor his literal washboard abs, because you were so shocked at the time, sliding onto your ass.

He even popped up at your work, but you’d been in the back at the time, only spotting his ostentatiously bright jacket as he left. You knew it was him because of the shape of his back and his expensive Mercedes parked outside.

You shake off your stupor and reply, edgily, “Who? Hoseok? Absolutely not. His brother, on the other hand, won’t seem to leave me alone. Plus, the older one- uh, what’s his name? Yoongi? He came to my work the other day. Again.”

She looks at you in shock, and babbles, “You- Do you know how lucky you are to interact with them so closely? Do you know how many girls would literally, and I mean literally, do anything to have that kind of luck?”

You nearly buckle over from how hard you laugh, the sound lacking all amusement. “Lucky? Are you kidding me? They’re a menace.”

She laughs and gives you a seedy look, mimicking claws and pawing at you. “Menacingly attractive.”

Grimacing down at the soapy water, you reprimand, “Okay, one, ew. Don’t say that ever again. And two, they’re upsetting my chakras. Clogging my flow. Obstructing my waves.”

“You’re an idiot,” she laughs.

“I’m your idiot,” you reply, winking at her, before letting out a sigh. “I’m going to be stuck with Taehyung for another month or so, but I refuse to interact with any of the others. They give me major weird vibes.”

She echoes, a cute pout to her lips, “Weird vibes?”

You nod, vehemently. “Are you telling me you’ve never felt it before? They don’t feel- I don’t know, they don’t feel like they’re one of us.”

“Taehyung’s nickname among the student body is Alien, because he’s so quirky, if that’s what you mean,” she suggests, tossing the banana skin in the trash.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you mumble, but you can’t think of how to explain it, so you drop the topic. “Whatever. Look, I’m gonna kick ass on this presentation and get a hundred, and there’s no way Gucci Boi is going to stop me from doing just that.”

She squeals out a laugh at the nickname you gave the tall artist, nearly falling off her chair in amusement, before she glances at her phone. “Oh, shoot. I’ve got to get going.”

You ask, sympathetically, “Do you have work?”

She glances at you, shyly, and instantly, you’re intrigued. “I’ve actually got a date?”

You clap your hands together, forgetting that they’re lathered in soap and so the blowback has bubbles flying into your face and mouth. Spluttering, you ask, excitedly, “Who is this guy? What’s his name? Where did you meet?”

“Not enough time to explain,” she tells you, grabbing her pretty heels from the front door. “He’s nice though, I promise! No shadiness this time. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home, okay? I shouldn’t be too late.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you call after her.

She laughs, playfully. “Then I wouldn’t do anything, YN!”

Leaving you with your thoughts, you finish washing the dishes mechanically, and disappear into your room, to finish off your anthropology assignment for the week, and add some notes to your end of year applied linguistics essay. You know it’s early, but you’d rather be on top and ahead, than lacking and behind in your studies.

Before long, you realise that hours have passed, and Mei hasn’t contacted you at all, despite the few messages you’ve sent her. You don’t want to overwhelm her, or cock block on accident, so you let her be. But, something in you feels anxious, and you can’t put your finger on why you feel so confused.

Just as you get out of the shower, you hear the tail-end of your ring-tone signalling an incoming call, but you’re too slow to answer it in time.

Glancing at your front screen, you see an unknown number, that you call back instantly.

“Hello, Seoul General Hospital. How may I help you?”

- end - 

Chapter 3 - Crash

Her face turns white as a sheet, as if she had seen a ghost. Namjoon knows then. He knows in the same way that he knows that she has real feelings for this person, that she doesn’t regret what she has done, and worst of all, that she would choose this person over him.

Because he knows her.

Even now, he knows her, better than he knows himself.

He can’t get the air into his lungs anymore. It feels like he’s submerged underwater with only a straw in his mouth, poking only barely out of the surface of the water. He’s sucking and sucking and sucking but he gets none of the familiar relief that he knows he should be feeling from breathing. In a sudden moment of vertigo, he stumbles over, catching himself on her hung sweater and he tears it with his rough grip. He doesn’t mean to, and he unsuccessfully tries to put it back together, as if he could fix the rip with will alone.

“Namjoon,” she says, and her tone of voice isn’t angry. It isn’t sad or mourning - it’s almost pitying, and that feels worse. He didn’t think it could get worse, but it did. Just then, it did.

The longer he looks at her sweater, the more blurry his vision gets, until all he can see is a watercolor of peach and creams, blending together in an offensive soup of pigment. He blinks and there they go - more tears.

“Stop crying,” she murmurs, gently. “Let’s talk in the bedroom.”

He shakes his head, still standing with his back to her. “I can’t hear any more of this.”

He can’t see her, but he can almost guess what expression she has on her face. Lips thinned in a taut line, brow furrowing in distress, and her singular dimple showing, as she bit down on her bottom lip, holding back her words.

“We have to talk about this,” she tells him, and the resigned nature of her voice reminds him on the Death March, ringing in his ears. “This has gone on long enough.”

“Baby, please,” he hears himself say, but he didn’t give his mouth permission to move. What is he begging her for? To not leave? To stop ripping his fucking heart out with her perfect hands? To stop fucking whatever nameless bastard she was leaving him for?

He can almost hear Jin’s voice chiding him in his ear - “Stand up for yourself! You deserve better! Tell her to eat shit and die!” - but he can’t. This is his wife, the mother of his kids, the love of his life.

“Stop, Namjoon,” she says, leading him back into their bedroom. Their bedroom. He wonders if she ever fucked him in here. The thought makes him gag. She settles on the bed, elegant even now in the wake of this earth-shattering revelation. “I’m sure you have questions.”

He shakes his head, scrubbing at his cheeks, trying to obliterate the evidence of his heartbreak. “No.”

She sighs. “Just ask, Namjoon.”

He groans, pushing his fingers into his eyes, “Why are you doing this?”

She looks away, frown deepening significantly. She actually looks bothered. “I can’t say when it happened, but I just… I fell out of love with everything.”

“Not with everything,” he bites out. “You have no problem with our house, with our kids, with our life. You fell out of love with me.”

She winces and wraps her arms around her chest, but she doesn’t refute his statement.

“When did you start sleeping with him?”

Her expression sours. “I-” She lets out a breath. “It started two months ago.”

Two months?

“I was here,” he says, after a long moment. “I was here, Areum. You were sleeping with him while I was here? Sleeping in this bed? Taking care of our kids? Going to work? All the while, you were fucking him?”

She drops her head, finally ashamed. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what? You were fucking him.”

She bites her lip, harder. So hard, in fact, he was sure she would start bleeding.

“What? It wasn’t just fucking? Or it wasn’t just him?”

She stands then, eyes burning in anger. “I wouldn’t do that!”

Namjoon scoffs, rage making his alcohol-addled brain see nothing but the amusement in the situation, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, “What, cheat on him? But you’d be unfaithful to me?”

She moves to storm out of the room, but he intercepts her, slamming the door shut and she jerks away, surprised.

“You don’t get to do that. Start of this whole fucked up revelation and then leave when you realize my heart is fucking bleeding right now,” he tells her, so unbearably angry that all he can do is cry and his hands tremble. “Who is it?”

She shifts her body away from him, eyes downcast, but he moves into her line of sight. “Tell me who you slept with.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t need to know.”

“Like fuck I don’t need to know,” he yells, slamming his hand on the vanity. “I deserve to know which bastard has been fucking my wife!”

She blinks up at him, taking in his rage, taking in his pain and anguish, and she feels in her chest a ping of regret. She knows she did wrong, she knew it when it started but it was like she couldn’t stop herself. She got swept up with everything - all the dates, the courting, the flowers, and the secrecy. It felt so exciting, and she hadn’t experienced ‘excitement’ for nearly four years. Since she got pregnant, it felt as if her life has just been on hold - waiting for the other foot to drop and for her to finally start living again, but the feeling never came. Things around her just kept moving.

Her babies got bigger, she got older, her husband got busier. It felt like the distance between them only grew until she woke up one morning and realized she was sleeping next to a stranger.

“He’s nobody,” she tells him, and that’s all she was willing to say on his identity. “Just someone from work.”

He doesn’t think he can feel any more than he is - it was as if every nerve ending in his body is being zapped with electricity. His heart is pounding, he’s sweaty and hot, his breath is escaping him and he’s dizzy. He can barely keep standing still, hands trembling at his sides.

He knows he should stop talking now, he should remove himself so he can calm himself down, so he can get to a headspace where he doesn’t want to stab himself through his eyes just to get rid of this ache behind his lids.

“You ruined our family for some guy at work,” he mutters, throat suddenly hoarse from all his screaming. “… You’re leaving me for some guy?”

She can’t meet his eyes.

“Do you love him?”

He doesn’t want to hear her say it, but something deep inside of him says that he won’t be able to move ahead with his life, ever, if he doesn’t hear it right now from her peach-stained lips.

When it seems like she won’t answer, he repeats himself, voice shaking with emotion, “Do you love him, Areum?”

She exhales, then, and quietly, so quietly he swears he could’ve imagined it, she whispers, “…Yes.”

And that’s it.

All the air in the room has been sucked out, his energy has been drained from his body and he collapses on the bed in an almost-catatonic heap.

She mills around him, haphazardly packing things that she will need, and he knows she is talking to him, but he can’t understand anything. He doesn’t even know if he’s awake or not, truthfully. He’s just overwhelmed, so god damn overwhelmed, and he feels empty.

Emptiness is easier to deal with than all these feelings, all this hurt and pain and anguish and hatred and jealousy and rage. So, instead, he curls into himself, he lies on his side and stares at the window to the left of his room, watching the rain silently fall and stain his windows.

He doesn’t know she left until he comes back to himself some hours later and the house is pin-drop silent.

She hadn’t even stayed to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

He wonders if she had always been so obvious about how little she cared for him.

Namjoon searches for his phone, wincing at the brightness of his screen and notes the time - 03:46am - before he sends the text to Jin. He doesn’t expect the other man to still be awake. Hell, he wouldn’t be if he hasn’t just been put through an emotional blender.

‘She left me.’

As if on a mission, he searches through his medicine cabinet for the only thing that’ll help him at this moment.

He grabs his sleeping pills, the ones he hasn’t needed to use a long time since being a father and working like a maniac doesn’t leave him with enough time to sleep on a regular basis, and pulls out four tablets, swallowing them dry, staring at his pitiful reflection in the mirror.

Dark circles under his eyes belie his exhaustion. His lips are chapped and the capillaries in his skin have burst with how much he has been crying. His entire being feels as if he has been hit by a speed train and left to rot.

In this moment, staring at himself and the potential future he has to face without his wife by his side, he wonders if he can do it. He doesn’t want to die or anything that extreme, but what he does want - what he needs - is for this deplorable feeling of desolation and foreboding to go away.

His phone is ringing back in the bedroom but his pills have kicked in and he already feels the lethargy kicking him in the side of his head. He welcomes the wave of stagnation like an old friend and he drags himself back to bed, throwing his sheets over his head and letting his phone go flying somewhere.

Namjoon can’t deal with the world right now. He just wants to fade into nothingness and have the last day of his life disappear along with it.

- end -

Jungkook thought his high school reunion would be a walk in the park. After all, he has a great job in the city, a beautiful apartment, and an all around great life.

Ignoring all the litany of text messages asking to meet up, he manages to avoid running into you, floating to a bar in the corner where all his old soccer friends are drinking. He just wants to enjoy the last bit of positivity his childhood has to offer, and it doesn’t involve you.

You’ve already been to his house two times this week, his parents are more than happy to feed you and treat you like a daughter. He’s seen more than enough from you.

Yet from the few hours he settles in his hometown, Jungkook can never get away from a conversation that doesn’t involve you.

His friends do nothing but indulge in all the bullshit Jungkook had to go through in highschool. When you asked him out to every single school dance under the sun, only to be rejected every single time. When you packed egg salad sandwiches for him every single day after soccer practice, only for him to secretly throw them out. When you openly waxed poetic about your crush at the senior poetry slam, even though it was very clearly about Jungkook. Absolutely terrifying.

“Heard she stayed behind to stay with her family,” Taehyung remarks casually after the onslaught of terrible memories of you and Jungkook’s antics, “what a loser. Wouldn’t she want to get out of this run down town?”

In fact, you love this town a whole lot. You’ve said it more than once to Jungkook on your walks home from school, trying to get him to watch the sunset on your favorite tree upon the hill, but he’d simply slam the door in your face.

“Can’t deny she’s cute though,” Jimin shrugs, taking a sip of his mysteriously colored drink. It’s magenta, the color of his recently dyed hair.

Jungkook, feeling confident and sure of himself, feels a sickening need to feed into this negativity. After all, it’s his boys and he needs to impress. “Yeah, she’s pretty but she’s a fucking weirdo,” he grins when all his friends wolf whistle in agreement.

“Would’ve loved to get a lunch made with love though,” Jimin teases, jabbing a pinky in Jungkook’s chest, “those egg salad sandwiches cut into little hearts, absolutely adorable.”

“Please, I’m sure those eggs have salmonella in them. She got them from the neighbor’s dirty farm,” Jungkook waves him off, taking another sip of liquid courage, “I threw that shit out, I was better off starving.”

“Oh yeah! And she hung out with that farm freak Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung howls, slamming his drink on the counter so hard that the ice plops out, “what a pair, those two. He didn’t know his left from right! Dumb as shit.”

“Right,” Your one and only friend Kim Namjoon, one he always assumed by association was just as weird as you. Jungkook shakes his head, finishes his glass and calls haughtily for another one, “Namjoon probably pitied her, after all, they’re two peas in a pod. An idiot and a weirdo, a perfect pair! No clue why she was so obsessed with me.”

Crack!

The floor is littered with glass, sliding all across the bar and onto Jungkook’s leather loafers. Dropping glass is completely normal in a bar late at night, but what makes it horrifying is that you’ve been behind him this entire time.

“You can fucking talk shit about me all you want,” you whisper, and for some strange reason he can hear you loud and clear in the noisy bar, “but how dare you be mean to Namjoon when he’s been nothing but kind to you. Fuck you, Jungkook!”

“W-wait, the glass!” You’re running out with nothing but thin black sandals to protect your feet. Jungkook sounds freaking pathetic, unable to formulate a mature, coherent response as you storm out of the bar. The laughingstock of the school, being followed out by the throws of high school girls and boys that always seemed to bother you just because you made the mistake of falling for the most popular boy in school.

It’s been a few weeks into summer and Jungkook’s worried. No calls, no texts. In fact, you’ve blocked him on every social media possible.

He should be over the moon, he should be happy, he’s free. He should be calling back Jennie, who was eager to hook up with him after rekindling at the reunion. Unfortunately as always, he’s clouded by you.

He never thought you’d cut him off like this. After all, you were like rubber, always bouncing back to him, ever since you were little kids.

The silence is loud, deafeningly loud.

“Honey, why don’t you go see your friend? She made you lunch!”

You’re devious. You don’t even want Jungkook’s parents to know how much he’s royally fucked up. You’re still sending him egg salad sandwiches, with heart cuts and red flower pins holding the layers together. His mom edges his plate closer to his body, silently forcing him to eat since it’s already the afternoon and he’s lazed all day. He only has a few days left of his vacation before he has to return to the city, and he’s done absolutely nothing.

His mom is staring at him expectantly, and he takes a small sandwich from the plate. He groans when he finds that it’s absolutely delicious.

“What are you doing here,” you mumble, digging holes in the dirt with the tip of your sneaker-clad toe.

“I came to make things right,” Jungkook replies softly, not wanting to disturb the peace.

You are right, the sunset is beautiful from the hill. The view overlooks the city he works out, and you can make out the incessant lights and city fanfare. Yet, the city pales in comparison to the warm orange sunset, melting beautifully between the clouds. How could he have missed so much?

When he sits down next to you on the mint green picnic blanket, he tries not to react when you flinch away from him, pointedly putting space between you two.

“I find that hard to believe,” it’s amazing how so much can change from a couple of sentences, “I think you’re just trying to feel good about yourself. I should’ve realized how selfish you really are.”

“Please,” Jungkook reasons, leaning in closer. There’s nowhere for you to move, with your flannel clad body pressed up against the bark of the tree, “I can be better, for us.”

He doesn’t think, he doesn’t breathe. He presses his lips to yours, chaste and sweet. Something that even his high school self would be impressed by. It’s perfect, the sun is setting, the view is impeccable, and you’re all alone in your favorite place in the world with your favorite person in the world. It’s just what you wanted all these years.

And just when Jungkook thinks you’ll kiss him back—

Slap!

His face burns white hot.

“Y/N…” Ari sighs. “Where are you?” Your eyes scan up and down the street until you find a street sign, telling her where you are before she adds, “I’m heading over now. Get some dinner while you wait.” 

Ending your call, you wipe away your tears, and make your way towards the building. You enter the somewhat empty diner, the waitresses scurrying back and forth with orders, coffee for the late night drivers, and everything else. Looking along the booths, you take an empty table towards the middle. 

What is going on? What’s going to happen tomorrow? Is it all over?

You almost break down again, but a hot cup of what smells like hot chocolate is placed in front of you. You look up to see an elderly woman looking down at you with a warm smile on her face. “You look tired, sweetie.”

You give her a weak smile as you answer, “I’m very tired.”

“Long day at school?” Blowing at the hot liquid, you nod before taking a small sip. It’d be easier to tell her it’s school rather than a boy. “The hot chocolate is on the house. Can I get you anything else?” 

“We’ll have two orders of chicken strips,” you hear Ari say in your place, your eyes traveling from the elderly woman to your best friend who just entered the diner and takes a seat across from you. “To-go please.” 

“Got it, sugar.” The waitress leaves you two and heads towards the counter. 

“You got here so fast,” you comment, surprised to see her already even though the two of you got off the phone less than five minutes ago. 

“I was already looking for you. When you called, it turns out I was only down the street,” Ari tells you, resting her elbows on the table, leaning forward just a bit. “Now there’s a lot that happened today, Y/N. I’m not going to tell you what you should and should not do because it’s all up for you to decide. The only thing I’m going to tell you is to process everything.” 

You sigh in response, resting your head in your hands. “That’s a lot to process,” you confess. “Walking in on your boyfriend kissing his ex is not what anyone would expect.” You wipe at your eyes, realizing tears are forming again. “Dating someone who has a reputation of sleeping with people—I can’t believe I told him that.” Everything you told him comes flooding back to you. 

You feel guilty. Angry. Confused. 

“Talk to him. Tell him everything you’re feeling and just see what happens,” she tells you, her tone sounding encouraging. “Just talk to him, Y/N. When you’re ready,” she adds. 

You nod, wiping your eyes again before looking up to her. “Let’s talk about something else,” you say, hoping she can easily change the subject. Distract you from everything. 

“When we get to the dorm, let’s watch that new movie I was talking about. I bought a projector, so we can watch it on an even bigger screen,” she tells you, clearly happy to have bought the projector just for watching movies more comfortably. 

You let out a tired laugh. “We should get shakes, too, while we’re here.” 

Ari grins. “That’s my girl.” 

It takes ten minutes for everything to be in your possession. Ari pays mainly because you left your money in your backpack, but you promised to pay her back. She argues with you that you’re not going to, but you’re persistent in paying for your half. 

A short ride later, you’re sitting comfortably in your bed with your food displayed in front of you. A blue screen is projected on the white wall above the mirror closet while Ari gets her phone connected to start the movie. It takes her a few minutes, but she finally got the movie playing and food is being devoured almost immediately. 

Today is a lot to handle, but tomorrow you’ll talk to him and get the answers you deserve. 

You’ve never avoided Yoongi so much like you have now. You told yourself that you would talk to him the next day, but the second you open your door, he opens his and you immediately close your door. It might not have even been Yoongi, but you didn’t want to take that chance to see. 

It seems like you’re not ready. You’re not ready for his answer, or for your embarrassment if it really is a misunderstanding. You’re just not ready, and you wonder if you’ll ever be ready. You can’t drag it on like this, but you want to take all the time you need to find that courage to face him. 

You’re a mess. Plain and simple your head is a mess and your emotions are definitely a mess.

“That’s all for today,” your professor tells you, interrupting you from your thoughts. Grabbing your belongings, you place them in your backpack, get up from your seat, and follow your classmates out the door. 

You make your way out of the department building and head up the sidewalk towards the higher grounds of campus. Your next class starts in fifteen minutes, and it only takes you about a minute to get from point A to point B, but you just want to take a seat and just focus on anything that isn’t your problem. 

You round the corner of the building where your next class is. Off into the distance is the bus stop where a bus comes to a stop, the doors opening and people exiting the vehicle. You reach your classroom door when you see her. She’s stepping off the bus, laughing at something someone said. She looks so carefree and unbothered while you’re dying on the inside. 

Why? 

Why is she so calm and happy about all this while you’re the one he’s dating? She’s the one who ruined everything. She’s the one who can’t keep her hands and mouth to herself. She’s the one—what if he called her over?

What if he wanted it just as much as she did? What do you do about that? What if you’re still the distraction, or the bait and Sam happened to fall for it and want him back just as much as he’s wanted her since they broke up? What if you mean absolutely nothing to him?

Sam is long gone from your sights, but her smile is imprinted in your thoughts. You want to cry again. You want to cry so badly. 

Screw class. You just want to go back into bed and forget this ever happened. Forget you ever met him or her. You walk past the classroom door and head towards the bus stop Sam had just left. Maybe luck is blessing you this once because your bus pulls to a stop just as you reach the sidewalk. You pull out your card, enter the bus, and after hearing the familiar beep you make your way down the aisle and take a seat near the back door. 

A few seconds later the doors close and the bus takes off. You stare out the window trying to think of anything that isn’t Yoongi or Sam, but your thoughts are fragile. There’s nothing to think about when their presence is so strong and you don’t have the strength to push them out of your thoughts. So, you close your eyes and open them every now and then to make sure you don’t miss your stop.

When the bus comes to a stop at the back of the dorm building, you thank the driver as you get off. The gate opens as a car leaves the parking lot, blessing you again with luck so that you don’t have to struggle with the door. You take your trip across the back parking lot and up the stairs to your floor. Pressing your ID to the scanner, the door opens automatically, the hall empty as you enter. 

You can’t wait to take off your shoes, toss your backpack somewhere where you can’t see it, lie in bed and take the biggest nap of your life. By the time you wake up, Ari should be back by then and the two of you can go grab dinner with Hoseok if he’s free. Just a nice, relaxing rest of the day. When you enter your room, you toss your backpack and shoes, change your clothes into something more comfortable and lie in bed. It honestly feels like seconds before you fall asleep. Seems like you’re way more tired than you thought. 

When you wake up, it’s not because Ari just came in like you thought. You wake up on your own, surprised to see that light in the room has dimmed to a pink hue. How long have you been sleeping? It was only supposed to be an hour max. Your hands roam around on your bed for a few moments before you feel your phone. Tapping the screen, the clock on the screen tells you that you’ve been asleep for around three hours. You’re surprised to have slept for so long, but you’re also surprised to not see Ari in the room. 

Sending her a quick text, you climb out of bed and slip on your shoes. You use the restroom, wash your face to wake you up, and grab your ID along with your phone and make your way out of your room. You’re hungry and Ari may be eating with Hoseok on campus or something, so you’re on your own. Thankfully you can just grab your food to-go and come back to your room where you can watch something on your computer and enjoy your food. 

When you open the door, his door has just closed with him standing in front of it. The two of you make eye contact. You’re frozen in place, heart racing and thoughts in a haze as the two of you stare at one another in silence. He says nothing and neither do you. He looks tired, but that’s all you can read. His expression is empty. Like it’s always been when you first met him. It’s hard to read him, and that only makes you angry. What is he thinking? Is he hurt like you? Does he care? 

The gaze feels like forever but it’s only a few seconds, and just like that, Yoongi makes his way towards the staircase. Saying nothing to you. 

You don’t leave your room after that. You just close your door, lie back in bed, and text your roommate to buy you food. It seems like his mind is made up. 

“Stop teasing me dammit” You whined, bucking you hips up as he pinched you. Your body felt hot all over, and Jungkook watched with interest at the way your heat seemed to be calling out for him through the soft squelching of you clamping down. 

“Shhh...patience baby” You could feel his breath against your folds, driving you wild at the unsatisfying stimulation. He spit out, allowing his saliva to glide into your gaping pussy before shoving his tongue into you. He flattened his tongue, running it up to your clit and sucking harshly. 

Heat soared through your body and you twitched as he rolled his tongue in, drinking you up deliciously. He opened his mouth wide, allowing his tongue to pump even further inside of you. You could feel his thick, plush lips against you--only adding to the amazing sensation. 

His fingers left your nipples, opting instead to clutch around your breasts. Your hand grabbed a fist full of his hair, tugging his face further into you as you strained your neck to try and get a better look at him, but Jungkook pressed his hands down on you, making sure you didn’t get up. 

His tongue jutted into you, flickering around your core harshly, searching for a place that would drive you wild. When he found it, you cried out, shoving his face down as much as you could. 

Jungkook laughed slightly, taking care to slowly lick away at that spot, rolling his tongue oh so slightly as he watched you close your eyes and bite your lip--barely able to contain your gasps of pleasure. 

His mouth moved across your splayed out body, pushing your top so it piled over your breasts as he began to kiss them. His wet pillowy lips teased you with pleasure before he sucked harshly, letting his teeth graze against your sensitive mounds. He hopped up onto the counter so he could climb over you, kicking his sweats off in the meanwhile. 

“Fuck, I’ve been craving you so fucking bad” His hands found yours, fingers intertwining as he pushed your arms out to your sides. He lowered his face until it was inches from yours and grinned. You licked your lips, signaling Jungkook to engulf you in another sloppy kiss. Your mouths were barely even on each other as your tongues fought for dominance, messy moans and whimpers mixing with the sound of your drenched folds rubbing just barely against Jungkook’s hardening cock. He let your hands go to bring them behind your head as he deepened the kiss, yours wrapping around his neck in response. 

“Ready baby? Ready for my big fucking cock” He tugged you hair back harshly making you wince in pain as he propped himself up and lined his cock up with your entrance. With one quick and heavy stride he thrust deep into you, pulling your head back even further as his thick cock pushed its way through. 

“There it is. So tight and warm for me fuck, pussy takes me in so fucking well” He thrusted again with so much force he barely was moving his cock. He was just digging further and further into you making you scream out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your hands traced his back muscles as he tried to soothe you with light kisses to your neck, but you couldn’t help crying out with every single one of his short thrusts. His hair was sweaty, strands falling over his face and brushing against yours. 

He propped himself up fully then, bringing his hands to your neck and gripping it tightly as his thrusts continued. You choked out as Jungkook tilted his head back in pleasure. You couldn’t help but notice his double pierced earrings, which turned you on so much you fell apart.

You moaned out as your orgasm shook through you, pussy messily leaking onto Jungkook’s cock. He groaned at the way you tightened around him, causing him to curse loudly and quicken his pace. 

He released your neck, allowing you to gasp for air as he took your legs and pushed them forward, allowing him to pump you at a deeper angle. He let his fingers run over your lips before shoving two of them down your throat and making you gag on them. 

He pulled out, rolling onto his back as he felt himself reaching his own high. His hand furiously pumped his cock which looked like it was ready to burst. You moved onto your side and began to kiss his neck, helping him on.

“Come on baby. Cum for me. So close baby” You cooed at him. He looked deep into your eyes as his hands continued moving rapidly. “You’re doing so good baby...come on” He began to whimper and you grinned. “Such a needy baby aren’t you Jungkook. Hm?” You cupped his face and kissed him again. You felt him bite down on your lip harshly, muffling a cry as his hot seed splattered over his stomach. 

Jungkook parted from you, sighing deeply as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you close. His cum spreading all over. He nuzzled your neck affectionately “Let me stay over. Just to make sure you’re safe for a few nights”

Your eyes widened, but you saw how pleading his expression was. “Why do you not think I’d be safe?”

“Because you living here means they know where you are. And I swear to god if they laid a finger on you I...I don’t know if I could handle it. Please baby"

“Who Jungkook? Who are you talking about?”

“I...” He looked away, “I don’t know. But he’s dangerous”

-

When the morning came, Jungkook was sprawled out on the other side of your bed. He looked so peaceful that you didn’t have the heart to wake him up. Tonight was the night Namjoon wanted you guys to go out. Back to fucking Death Valley. 

You had been dreading it, but after the events of the last few days you really needed a distraction. Hobi had conveniently avoided being alone with you ever since the two of you hooked up. It drove you crazy. He was acting so incredibly normal, as if nothing happened. But you wanted him. 

Namjoon greeted you when you arrived at work, sitting in the conference room, scribbling away on his notepad. He was still not quite his usual self. You told him you ran into Jungkook and that he was going to be staying with you for a while. “He says I’m not safe there” 

Namjoon clicked his pen absentmindedly, “Wait where did you say you lived?”

You told him, explaining again that you really didn’t have any other options, and watched his eyes go wide. “Uh yeah that’s not the best place to live. Lot of um...dangerous activity” He searched something on his phone. “Y/n, there are so many better apartment listings, what do you even mean?” 

“I dunno. When I moved here it seemed like everything else had been rented out” You shrugged.

Hobi entered the studio with assignments. He looked great, wearing a large oversized bowling shirt over cargo shorts. It showed just enough of his chest. “Morning guys! Excited to see you all tonight. Y/n, you’ll be working with Joon again while I handle the...”

“Actually do you mind if I talk to you privately outside” Stop fucking avoiding me. You thought bitterly. Hobi’s face fell slightly. You went into the hallway, expecting him to follow. When you had him alone, he plastered on a forced smile.

"Did you need something?” You wanted to laugh at how clearly fake he was being, trying to act like his usual cheery self. 

“Are we just not going to talk about that night?” The facade dropped. Hobi sighed, running a hand through his hair as he thought deeply about how to respond to you.

“We were buzzed. It’s not professional Y/n. Let’s just forget it happened”

“But I” You began to protest, but Hobi brought up his hand for you to stop.

“End of discussion. Work relationships are not allowed here. I’m sorry” His eyes scanned your figure, a look of regret flashed across his face as he quickly turned around and left. 

-

Sitting in the dive bar itself was something you had yet to do, but you found yourself enjoying the ambiance. The music was perfect, not too loud as Namjoon began blabbering away about his music next to you on the circular leather seats of your booth. Sure, you were also glad to finally spend some time out of the office with Namjoon that didn’t involve him almost dying. But you were here for one reason and one reason alone. To get back in bed with Hobi. 

Unfortunately, he was numb to your obvious advances, brushing you off as a tease as you’d find reasons to touch him, lean against him or play with his hair. Finally you gave up with a pout, downing a shot before refocusing your attention onto Namjoon. If Hobi didn’t want you, you were more than happy to show him what he was missing.

“Joonie...” You murmured, leaning into him. “Do a shot with me” Namjoon pinched your cheek affectionately and agreed. You poured a shot of tequila for him, lining up salt on your forearm and sitting ready for him with a lime wedge in your mouth. 

Namjoon downed the bitter liquid and you couldn’t help but twitch at the feeling of his tongue gliding seamlessly up your arm before his lips were on yours, taking the wedge from you.

Hobi’s jaw clenched slightly as he watched the two of you play. Namjoon returned the favor, but you took it a step further, sliding into his lap so you could have easier access to the lime in his mouth. Lingering by his lips a bit too long for Hobi’s liking.

“Jungkook suggested these for tonight” Namjoon brought out a few pills, laying them on the table. “I only got a little bit, but he said it would be fun. If we wanna do more we can just go to your place after and hang too, I’m sure he has stuff with him”

Hobi’s head turned fast, he raised his eyebrows incredulously “What?”

“Yeah” You said nonchalantly, “Jungkook is staying at my place for a while.” You shrugged it off like it was no big deal but it was obvious that Hobi was pissed. Namjoon quickly popped the pill.

“Will you feed one to me Joonie?” You stuck your tongue out. Namjoon grinned and gave you the pill, watching as your tongue curled in. 

“You’re such a little flirt aren’t you” Namjoon nuzzled your neck, not crossing any lines as his hands remained on your back. You giggled, his soft hair tickling you slightly, “And you smell so damn good” He muttered soft enough so only you could hear it.

Hobi watched as you began whispering into Namjoon’s ear. He couldn’t hear what the two of you were saying but seeing you curled up into him like that had him fuming inside. He grabbed the tequila bottle and took a long swig from it before slamming it back onto the table. Both you and Namjoon turned around.

Hobi leaned across the booth to pull you off of Namjoon’s lap and into his. He didn’t even care about the way Namjoon’s eyes widened as he clenched your ass.

“Hi daddy” You smirked, tracing lines up his chest. He jerked you forward so that you were sitting right where he wanted to feel you.

“Stop teasing me.” He growled. He smacked you ass harshly.

“You’re the one being a tease” You snapped right back. “Come on I know you want to.” You traced your finger down his chest, biting your lip slightly. Hobi watched you with dark eyes as you pulled at his shirt playfully before getting off of him and climbing onto the table. 

An upbeat song played through the room, and Hobi watched wide-eyes as you stood up on the table and began to sensually sway your hips. You let your hips drop low, making sure to bend your ass out in front of Namjoon as Hobi began fuming. Namjoon took another swig of his drink and raised his eyebrows at you. 

“Joonie” You cooed, getting on the table on all fours and crawling towards him.  “Kiss me” You curled your finger, motioning for him to come to you. Like a mesmerized puppy he did as told, finding your lips slowly. You could sense his uncertainty. You deepened the kiss, allowing your tongue to push through his mouth. You maneuvered until you were back in his lap, and for a moment you forgot that Hobi was even there. Namjoon tasted bitter but so incredibly sweet at the same time. As his hands began running down your thighs you couldn’t help but moan into him lightly.

Hobi gritted his teeth, jaw clenched to the point where he could just burst. He got up and dragged you off of Namjoon harshly, giving you whiplash as your ass landed harshly onto the seat. Hobi dropped to his knees and yanked off your bottoms. Without any warning he spread your legs wide open to see that you were getting wet. 

“Who is this for huh?” Hobi growled looking up at you. His eyes were enraged, you almost felt scared but you were too turned on by the situation to care. He turned to Namjoon who was startled and unsure of what to do. “You see this Joon?” Namjoon nodded slowly “This is for me. Got that?” He nodded again, gulping. Hobi’s eyes softened slightly, “Do you wanna taste? Wanna see how yummy her pretty pussy is?” Namjoon looked at you for permission and you nodded furiously.

He slowly lowered himself onto the floor next to Hobi, taking your thigh into his hand to spread you out further. 

“God just look at that” Hobi licked his lips, taking his fingers to loosely run up and down your folds, showing Namjoon how wet you were by sloshing around. Hobi gathered your arousal onto his finger and brought it to Namjoon’s lips “Go ahead. Taste” Namjoon opened his mouth, and you watched as he licked off Hobi’s finger. “Do you like it?” He nodded. “Good. Eat her out. I’m gonna go get some real action” Hobi slid back into his seat next to you and his hands quickly slid under your shirt. He brought his face in close to you, nibbling your jaw between kisses. “Aww fuck baby girl, you love this don’t you. Little attention whore aren’t you hm?”

Namjoon’s tongue ran slowly over your clit and Hobi’s warm hand covered both your breasts. Every fiber of your being felt so incredibly stimulated. You were a heaving mess. 

“Hobi” You whined, pulling his face towards yours to kiss him harshly. He could feel the way you craved him in your kiss, as you eagerly tried to rile him up, letting your kisses get sloppier by the second. 

“Get on the table” He mumbled. “Sit pretty for me yeah?” You did, spreading your legs for him as you leaned back slightly. Namjoon got up, your juices trickling down his lips. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and the smirk he left after had you shivering in anticipation.

“What do you think Joon?” Hobi grinned, palming your raw cunt soothingly, “She ready for some cock?” Namjoon didn’t miss a beat, he unbuttoned his pants, allowing his cock to slide out. He stroked himself lazily as he gazed at you. You stared right back at him, enjoying the way his face was blushed red as he jacked off. 

“Hurts” He mumbled. You pouted at him empathetically.

“Oh you poor thing” You reached out to stroke his cock, watching him let out a shaky moan at your touch. “Want me to kiss it better baby?” Namjoon nodded and you heard Hobi chuckle in amusement. You opened your mouth wide, softly tugging his cock so he knew to come towards you. Namjoon inserted his girthy length in your mouth and your tongue rolled over his thick skin, savoring the salty bitterness. You hollowed your cheeks as you began to move your mouth up and down, sucking him relentlessly. 

In the meanwhile, Hobi had pulled out his own cock and pulled your hips to the edge of the table. He slapped his cock against your pussy as you choked on Namjoon. You could feel the warm throbbing head push against your sensitive folds, causing you to squirm with a desire for more. Your pussy clenched on nothing, causing more arousal to seep out onto his cock. 

You choked on Namjoon’s dick as Hobi sunk into you, pulling your hips in close as Namjoon’s cock went further down your throat. You gagged incessently, causing Namjoon to pull out with concern. Hobi began fucking you harshly, thrusting into you with no remorse whatsoever. “Fucking whore can’t even suck cock right?” He scoffed at you playfully, “You really gonna leave him hanging after all he did for you?”

You shook your head dumbly, "Come back baby let me suck you good” Namjoon cursed softly as you pulled him back into your mouth, taking your time to let your tongue wrap around every crevice of his girthy cock. You let your hands snake up his thighs, allowing you to fondle him and stroke him while you bobbed your head back and forth, keeping your eyes glued to his, which was the thing that had him falling apart the most. 

“You’re so...pretty” Namjoon exhaled. He was high but you could see the sincerety in his eyes as if he just had some sort of epiphany. It made you want to suck him even faster, giving this adorable boy all the pleasure in the world like he fucking deserved. 

Hobi noticed you diverge your attention, glaring darkly at the way Namjoon was looking at you. He pulled out and grabbed your hair, pulling you off of Namjoon’s dick, saliva stringing from your lips. 

He made you look straight at him as he brought his face to yours “You made your point okay. Your mine now you got that?” He growled, shoving you back on the table. Your head hit the glass surface painfully and you felt dizzy. Hobi flipped you over and gripped your ass firmly, letting his nails dig into your plump skin. 

“Hit her” He ordered Namjoon, who gave him an uncomfortable look. “Don’t you like her cute ass? Hit it. Hit the bitch like she fucking deserves. Be a fucking man” You could hear the genuine anger in Hobi’s voice, and it was turning you off. 

“I...I’m good. You go ahead if you want” Namjoon said softly, spacing out slightly as he watched the scene unfold. Hobi laughed bitterly, leaning over you so his chest pressed against your back. 

“You see that baby girl? I know how you like it, and I’m the only one who can fucking give it to you good, you understand?”

“Yes--” You muttered, wincing as Hobi smacked your ass again harshly. You crooned at the stinging aftermath. 

“Yes?” Hobi bit your ear and tugged it harshly. “Don’t you know how to address me by now baby girl?”

Smack. “Yes daddy.” You squealed. Hobi hummed in satisfaction. 

“That’s right baby. Don’t you fucking forget it” He shoved his cock back inside you, filling you to the brim. “Fucking slut. Letting me fuck you like this out in the open. Anyone can just see what a whore you are for me. But you love that don’t you huh? You wanna show everybody just how goddamn much you want daddy’s cock isn’t that right baby?” He began to move, thrusting into you quickly as his cock began twitching inside you. “I asked you a fucking question” He snapped, pushing your face down onto the table.

“Yes daddy” You cried out “I love it. I love your cock daddy, need it...” You sighed out as your felt yourself edging on the cusp of your orgasm. As rough as he was, he was right. You loved the way Hobi fucked you. “Please cum in me daddy, want your cum.”

Hobi sucked at your jaw “I know baby. All you ever fucking want is daddy’s cum, I know that. I know you want me to pump you so full of it, fuck my cum into you like the cockslut whore you are. All for me, and only me”

“Yes daddy. Only you. I promise” With that, Hobi came like a flood, bursting his load deep inside you. You whined, losing your own orgasm as he finished just slightly too soon. Before getting off of you, he grabbed the bottle of liquior and turned your face, pouring the alcohol into your mouth. You chocked as the liquid filled your throat, and he stopped, allowing you to gulp it down. 

You felt it hit you right away, finding yourself unable to move as Hobi got off of you.

“Go ahead Namjoon. Fuck her” Hobi fixed his pants back up. You couldn’t see--your vision began to blur as you felt Namjoon lean down to your face.

“Y/n? Are you okay? Is it too much?” His words were slurred. You smiled at him lazily, nodding despite your inability to comprehend what he was even asking you. You were so tired.

The glass started to burn against you as you felt yourself moving back and forth against it. Where were you? You giggled, eyes drooping shut. You heard your name being called. Was it in pleasure or concern? Who knows. You faint.

-

Your head pounds with pain as you wake up. The first thing you notice is that you cant see anything--it’s absolutely dark. There was something covering your eyes. You tried to reach for it and take it off but a rough sensation at your wrists holds you back and you realize they are tied together behind you over some sort of railing. 

“Hello?” You panicked. “Namjoon!? Hobi?!” You tried to tug yourself out of the restraints but they wouldnt budge. You could still feel the weary after effects of the pills you took, everything seemed slow and you mind was freaking out at the lack of light, losing any sense of coherent reality. 

“I’m here y/n” Your heart flooded with relief as you heard Hobi’s familiar voice echo through the room, “Don’t worry you’re gonna be okay, just calm down”

“I’m here too” You heard Namjoon’s voice. He sounded like he was much closer to you, only a few feet away. “What the fuck is going on?” He growled and you hear him trying to break the ropes on his hands with brute strength. 

“Give up Namjoon” A new voice entered the room. It was so familiar but you were too dazed to place it. You suddenly feel something warm close to you, a scent too close for your liking. You squirmed as you felt a hand touch your face.

“Stop! Who are you!?” You tried to turn yourself away from him but he gripped your jaw, fingers digging into your mouth slightly. The person didn’t say any words but you could feel them getting closer.

“Get the fuck away from her” Namjoon growled, tugging at the ropes repeatedly to no avail. 

You gulped as you felt a nose against your cheek. You felt as though someone had punched the air out of your gut, as a pair of lips carefully made contact with your skin. They lingered, and you flinched away as fast as you could. You heard a slight chuckle as the heat from the body seemed to disappear. He was leaving. Thank God.

You close your eyes to try to focus on the sound of his footsteps, heart racing as you hear them move in Namjoon’s direction. Suddenly you heard a loud slap--it sounded like the man just hit Namjoon. Your eyes clenched as you heard Namjoon wince in pain.

You hear more shuffling, and suddenly there are more footsteps. It seemed that more people had come into the room. “Fuck. Get your fucking hands off of me” You hear Namjoon’s voice getting further away.

“Namjoon?” You cry out. You hear a door slam shut and suddenly there is silence again. “Hobi?” You’re petrified, body trembling as the silence persists. You were alone. What were they going to do to you? You began to cry, your sobs echoing throughout with no one to hear. 

-

You had no idea when you fell asleep, but woke up to loud knocking. “Hello! Is anyone in here?” You heard a door open. “Holy shit, Y/n?” You craned your neck to try to recognize the voice, but you were so exhausted and hungover that you couldn’t even think. You felt hands at your wrists untying the rope. The next thing you know light flooded your vision. You squinted at the sudden stimulus, waiting for your vision to adjust so you could see your savior. 

“Jin?” You asked in shock, gaping at the gorgeous man in front of you. Of course. He’s police. I’m safe now. You sighed in relief as tears began to flow from your eyes again. Jin crouched down in from of you, caressing your hands where the rope had dug in slightly. You threw your free hands around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. “S...sorry I just” You stuttered between your cries. Jin softly stroked your back.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re safe with me”

He let you cry in his arms for a while before you finally were able to gather yourself. He helped you up, holding your hand as the two of you left what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse of some sort. “Namjoon...uh...RM, and a coworker of ours, named Hoseok, they were both with me but someone took them away” You informed him, “Do you know where they are?” Jin stopped momentarily, and you noticed him sigh.

“Not yet. But we’ll find them okay. It’s a little complicated, let’s get in the car and I’ll tell you everything”

Jin held your shoulders down some stairs as you made it to the parking lot. He assisted you in getting into his blue sedan. 

“Your house isn’t far from here, I’ll drop you home after we talk” He informed you as he got into the drivers seat. You curled your legs up into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest for comfort.

“How do you know who I am? Why do you know so much about me?”

“It’s my job to know.” He smiled slightly. “Listen. I’m not exactly sure why, but my intel tells me that you’re being used as some sort of bargaining chip”

You blinked at him in utter confusion, “Bargaining...for what? Who the fuck?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know you hang out with gang members Y/n” Jin chuckled. Your eyes widened.

“Uh...I didn’t...” Well. Jungkook made sense. And sure, then there was Jimin. And if you thought about it, it did made sense that Namjoon was also caught up in something like that--it would explain a lot. 

“I understand that you’re close with Park Jimin” You frowned. The last thing you needed right now was to talk about him of all people. “So don’t play dumb with me. You’re not in any trouble, just tell me what you know”

“Dude...I’m new here okay. I don’t have any information about anything alright. Shouldn’t you know who’s betting on you?” You scoffed. Jin raised his eyebrows.

“Betting? Who said anything about betting?” He smirked as you gaped at him, realizing your slip.

“Oh...I mean...”

“My intel tells me you saw something you shouldn’t have. That’s why you’re being used by some people...possibly another gang...to blackmail the gang who runs Death Valley, and why you’re on his radar”

“Who’s radar?” Was it the same guy from earlier? Or maybe the guy you had seen kicking Namjoon? Or the guy who tied up Jungkook? Was it all the same person? 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Jin stated matter of factly, “No one knows who he is. Well...I think Park Jimin knows who he is, so I have a proposition for you.”

“You want me to snitch” You rolled your eyes. You didn’t love that your new associates seemed to be such dangerous people, but you weren’t the type of person to go try to get anyone in trouble for their own business. “No thanks”

“You’re really not safe Y/n. If we work together, I can make sure no harm comes to you” You thought back to Jungkook’s warnings, smiling inwardly knowing that you had the strong boy waiting for you back at your apartment. He would be able to protect you with no issue, you didn’t need to get involved with the cops.

“No thanks. I’ll be okay. Please just take me home” Jin sighed, tapping the wheel of his car quickly as if he were irritated. 

“Fine. If you change your mind” He pulled out his wallet and handed you a business card, “Call me”

Jin dropped you home and you slowly tried to walk your way to the elevator, slumping inside it once the doors slid open. A few floors up the elevator halted, opening to reveal none other than Min Yoongi. 

“Y/n?” He asked curiously, observing your chaotic state. You had no idea how you looked, but you were sure it was not at all presentable. You groaned internally. Yoongi probably thought you were a trainwreck. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh I--” You straightened yourself up as much as you could, brushing your clothes off and trying to fix your hair urgently. Yoongi looked absolutely stunning, even outside of work. It was refreshing to see him in a simple hoodie and joggers, his earrings still driving you wild. “I love...LIVE. I live here” You internally screamed at yourself for your awkwardness. Yoongi didn’t break a smile, he simply observed you curiously. He glanced at the elevator navigation and pressed a number for the floor above yours. 

“I didn’t know you live in the same building as me.” He stated, “I can give you a ride to work sometime if you’d like”

“Oh! I’d love that...I mean, that would be great you know. Saving the environment and all that” You chuckled, twirling your hair. Yoongi raised his eyebrows at you. His eyes were amused but still no hint of a smile. 

The elevator arrived at your floor, and Yoongi watched as you scrambled to get yourself out of there. “I’ll see you at work, Y/n.” He nodded in your direction. You smiled sheepishly.

The door had almost slid shut but your eyes met his. His gaze was so intense on you, you felt almost like a prey in front of a predator. You finally see a slight tug of a smile as you gulp. How can a human being be so goddamn FINE? 

You finally make your way to your door and realize you don’t have your keys. Fuck they probably stole them. But why did they leave my wallet? You knocked on the door. 

No response.

“Jungkook?” You called out, rapping at the door franticly. “Fuck” You muttered, leaning against the door in defeat. You were so incredibly tired, you just wanted to take a fucking nap. Maybe I can crash at Yoongi’s? Would that be unprofessional? You limped your way back to the elevator. Arriving on his floor you realized you didn’t know which room was his.

You laughed, thinking about how fucking helpless you had been recently. Calling out for all these men to help you. This wasn’t who you were. What the fuck happened to you? When did you become so weak? “Yoongi?” You shouted through the hall, hoping that someone would come out, and if it not him they could direct you to him. A door opened. Funnily enough the room was at the same spot as yours, just on a different floor. 

“Y/n?” Yoongi was shirtless, a towel around his neck and his sweats still on. You ogled at the way his chains sat on his bare chest, and so badly wanted him to turn around so you could see his tattoos. “Everything okay?”

“Uh” You scratched the back of your neck nervously, “Sorry if this is unprofessional” Don’t be sorry. You’re a bad bitch. This shit doesn’t phase you. “I mean. I got fucking locked out. You mind if I crash at your place, I’m just really tired and I had a really long night, I can barely even--”

Yoongi nodded, slipping back into his apartment so fast you didn’t get a chance to see him turn around. You pouted, but followed him inside. 

He seemed to have gone to the bathroom. You carefully closed his door and looked around. His apartment was really nice. As expected, he had lots of awards on display, fancy speakers and expensive looking furniture. What was surprising to you was the lack of drugs. Jimin always had a mess of pills on his kitchen table, and you had assumed all music industry people were like that. You wondered if Yoongi used anything. He probably didn’t, considering how goddamn perfect he is.  

“You can sleep in my room if you want” Yoongi emerged, now clothed, again to your disappointment. He fiddled with a watch on his wrist. Hey that’s the same watch as-- “I need to step out for a bit. Make yourself at home” He gestured towards his bedroom door. You nodded, thanking him as you watched him grab his own keys and head out the door. 

Just as the door closed your phone began to ring. You hadn’t even realized you still had it. You should’ve just called Jungkook you dumbass. You regretted drinking as much as you had last night. Glancing at your phone, your heart skipped a beat seeing that it was Hobi calling.

“My god, are you okay?” You cried out, answering immediately.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at my apartment. What happened, are you guys okay?”

“Yes we’re fine. Namjoon got beat up pretty bad...no idea what that was about, but then Jungkook found us while he was out finishing a deal. Are you okay?" You gulped.

“Yeah I’m okay. I’m glad you both are safe. Are you going to report it to the police?”

You heard Hobi chuckle, “I don’t think that would be a good idea. It was probably Jimin or somebody involved in all that fight betting, gambling bullshit. I really need to knock some sense into Namjoon’s head and get him out of that scene” You sighed. You never wanted to go through anything like this ever again. It was probably best if you stayed away from Death Valley for good. 

“Y/n...I” Hobi inhaled sharply, “I wanted to say I’m sorry for ignoring you. I wont anymore okay. Life is too short for bullshit. Do you...wanna go out sometime? Like on a date?” You felt a warm hug envelop your heart as a smile spread across your lips. You giggled.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good.” You could hear his goofy smile somehow, “See you soon baby girl” You shut your phone off and make your way into Yoongi’s room. It was a stunning room--super high tech with LED strip lights and a huge mirror wall across the bed. You threw yourself onto the inviting mattress, burying your face in his soft pillows as you finally let the heavy weight of sleep take you over.

Hands trailed up your legs, grabbing at your bare ass cheeks and pulling them apart. “Fuck” You heard you felt a slap to your skin. The hands gripped your waist, pulling you back. You felt a sharp pain in your shoulders as you realized your arms were spread wide out, handcuffed to something. A hand grabbed the back of your head and shoved it down into the pillow, muffling your breath. You tried to groan out as you felt a cock push inside you “Yoongi” You whined, “Yoongi I want more”

“You’re beautiful” You hear him say, making you smile internally while your face continued to get smushed further into the pillow. You choked out as he quickly began thrusting into you. 

“Fuck” You cried out as a pleasure unlike anything before hit you “More...please” You urged him on “Faster Yoongi....please go faster I need” You panted, barely able to breathe “I need you...please”

You woke up with a start, blinking as the early rays of the morning sun filtered through tinted windows. You sighed, feeling your pussy clench in defeat as your dream ended a bit too soon. You were in Yoongi’s bed, however you were tucked in, and you realized that you were wearing different clothes. His clothes. You looked around but Yoongi wasn’t there. Checking your phone, you see more missed calls from Namjoon along with a long array of texts that you knew youd have to read eventually. You crawled out of bed, looking at yourself in Yoongi’s large mirror wall. 

You walked out of his bedroom to see him sitting at his kitchen counter, typing away on his laptop with a Redbull and a bagel out by him. You noticed that he was wearing glasses, and that his hair was still messy from sleep. He regarded you as you entered the kitchen. 

“Sleep well?” He asked kindly. You nodded. “Would you like something to eat? You seemed pretty hungover. Better get some food into your system” He pushed the bagel towards you. You hadn’t realized it but you were starving. You ravished the bagel rapidly, not even caring that your boss was right in front of you. Or that you were literally in his house wearing his clothes. “Is everything okay Y/n? You seemed frazzled yesterday” You stared at him, mouth stuffed with food. 

“Um” You quickly swallowed, “I actually got kidnapped” Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows with concern.

“Come again?”

“Yeah. Do you know Death Valley? I was there with” Should you tell him you were there with coworkers? Probably not “...Friends and we blacked out and someone literally kidnapped us. But luckily the cops found us”

“Cops?”

“Yeah. I didn’t get hurt or anything but it was just scary” Yoongi closed his laptop and stared at you.

“I’m...so sorry you had to go through that. Please, feel free to take the day off if you need to, that sounds really traumatic” You shook your head, but your heart glowed at how sweet he was. Behind that cold expression, you realized that he actually seemed like a really caring guy. 

“Thanks Yoongi, but I’m okay. I’m strong” You affirmed more to yourself than to him. Yoongi’s eyes flashed with amusement at your statement “I think I’ll head back to my place, I uh...can call a friend to let me in”

“Alright. Just take care of yourself okay?” You thanked him, before grabbing your things and heading out. 

Upon reaching your own apartment door you knocked again, hoping Jungkook made it home in one piece.

“Y/n, is that you?” You sighed with relief that you were finally going to be let inside. The door swung open.

“Thank God, I literally--” You froze. 

Standing in front of you was not Jungkook. 

No.

It was Taehyung. 

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a/n: yoongi really be melting our hearts like butter. ha. i dont know if my hints and stuff are like...making sense? I hope so lol. more jimin next week i promise! and all you jin and yoongi people just TRUST ME. it’s all coming. ;) as always, thank you for reading & have a great day <3 part 3′s smut pairs are up on the series masterlist! see you next week ;)