#honeyboynetwork

“569, Sir.” Standing to catch the glimpse of a golden door, the receptionist bowed once of respect before opening the door to watch the light flicker on. The man walking away with a light smile, to treat his other guests. Your silhouette lingering by the entrance as it didn’t take a second before Yoongi had settled for the edge of a king size bed to rest. His sighs were loud, but his voice was deep and rusty that I shook your bones.

“Are you going to come in, or what?” Shuffling inside as the door closed silently behind, it was like stepping into a new world. Your felt out of place and shocked of the fact, that this was how you were going to meet for the first time after so many years. Your coat put on the arm chair next to his leather jacket and your shoes properly displayed next to his by the door, you stepped over to sit beside him. The weight of the mattress wavering, making your hips budge against each other. Yoongi’s face was buried in the palm of his hands, unable to read his expression or thoughts. His cologne filling the room, sending old memories through your mind as time went by. Your legs squirming of the awkward silence, unknown to what the next thing was going to be.

“So… looks like Army could win a Hidden-things-game competition?” He spoke with a light smile, finally letting his face reveal from his cold hands. Your eyes meeting in a warm light, letting your sight fall upon his chocolate brown orbs. God how you missed it when he pouted while talking.

“Heh… yeah… I guess so…” Your words became unsettling, still nervous of the whole ordeal. Your true self was convinced they didn’t know you were back, but it was all a lie. Biting on your bottom lip, unsure what to ask about of all the things. How he was doing? What happened after the incident? Will you be able to meet the others? Did he still love yo-

“You look like Jungkook with that scar…” He blurted out, letting his finger trace along your cheekbone. Your own skin to skin contact, got you to automatically back away. He didn’t seem to be affected by it, but letting you settle back in position for him to continue stroking your cheek. It felt warm and nice, like home. There were no words exchanged, than the eye contact you kept.

“Well… The kids will be happy to see you” He spoke, retrieving his hand to his lap. An awkward smile formed on your face, while trying to laugh off the matter.

“Kids? Does that mean you call me a kid too? You’re not much older than me” You commented, finally feeling your body relax. But, something in every nerve were twitching. There was something missing and you couldn’t tell what it was.

“Well, no. Not always, but they are like kids. Like you, taking childish actions” He muttered, while blinking so painfully slow that you were unsure how to react. He didn’t show any emotions and for the first time, you felt like hitting him.

“Childish actions?” You questioned with narrowed brows, feeling the anger boil in your body.

“What do you want me to call it? Selfish?” He continued blurting out but kept his straight face. His hand forming to a knuckle, in the dim light on his jeans. He was angry and you could tell, this wasn’t a matter you would like to talk about either. But your own anger that build of the true fact, didn’t help to keep yourself calm.

“selfish???” Your voice was higher and threatening, making his lips form into a thin line. Arrowing his eyes on your body with a powerful clenching jaw, he took a deep breath before sticking his hands into his pockets.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Get some sleep, I’ll be going now.” He spoke, raising himself from the now, cold bed. His back turned your way and not being able to see your shocked expression of anger. You were now furious, of his sudden statement and then leaving you? Did he not have anything else to say? Nothing at all? There was a tiny bit regret in letting yourself follow him to here, but also that he didn’t miss you as much as you missed him. Your body responding quicker than your vocals could present words of how ungrateful he was, you caught the back of his collar to pull harder than ever. His body crashing upon the giant bed, as you straddled him with your weight and tying his hands down by force. You were slightly amazed of your strength, being able to pull him this far. A shocked expression formed on his face, noticing the tears that pooled in your eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Calling me selfish to make a choice, that would leave me out of pain?! Don’t you think I know already?!! I regret it, alright?! Telling me it’s selfish, is the first thing you can say to me?! I come back and it’s like you don’t even fucking care! Like I was never away!” Your words were practically falling out, as you yelled into his face. His eyes growing wider by every sentence you played out and at every crying word, it felt like a stab into his chest. His brows scrunched in anger, before feeling the strength of his own body, overpowering you. Your arms locked above your head and suddenly, you became the damsel in distress.

“Don’t care?! I’m a fucking nervous wreck right now, because of you!-” He practically yelled with gritted teeth, but strangely held upon his deep vocals as a threat. It was nothing more, than a cry for him to continue speaking. It was now easy to sense his vibrating palms on your cold skin and his muscles tensing, by every little movement.

“-I know what it feels like, to not want to be in pain anymore… But that evening, that horrible evening, you decided to lock us all out. With just that, you were gone. Every day, I thought about you! Every day, I fucking thought I had a chance of seeing you! Every day, I blamed myself!... Every day… I missed you…-” You were in shock, seeing his emotions expressed in every fibre of his body. Anger, regret, betrayal and sorrow, a cocktail of grief. It was all in the tears of his eyes, mirroring your own before it fell upon your cheek to become one with the rest of your tears. Everything in your head didn’t make sense, but it also made a light flash upon a path you could remember. “-Every god damn time… I think about you… I always regret not being there sooner… Why didn’t you let us help…? Why didn’t you let us be a part of your pain, to find happiness together…? Why did you suddenly decide… that your demons were better than us…?” Crying, louder and louder. With tears continuing to fall and forced to watch Yoongi fall apart. Blood shot eyes, looking down on you with misery that you expected to come. But you never knew, it would be so hard to watch it unfold.

“Yoongi…” You tried to call out with the shakiest voice, for him to come back. To see that you were here, right beneath him. Letting him know, you wouldn’t walk away like that, ever again.

“Why…? Did you really think I wouldn’t miss my favourite person in the world…? Was my tears every night ever since then, a waste…?” People think that he’s bad at showing his gratitude or emotions like sorrow to others, but that’s wrong. Yoongi was always open to be soothing himself on your shoulder, after break ups, home sickness and horrible thoughts about everything that was wrong about him. He was always there to be by your side and even though you have had your tough sides, as friendly enemies. It was always weird, to see the tears fall harder each time. Right now, you could barely look at him. But you had to, he was broken and you needed to realise that it has always been like that. Watching the expression of grief display right before you, it never became easier to confront it. Hyperventilating, is the only definition you could explain of his breathing. He was shaking, like a cold puppy in the rain. His face puffed from the crying and eyes flashing, unknown what was going on with him. His body becoming weaker, to release his powers in one shout of cry. Your hand getting free without a struggle, you reached out for him. His warm cheek, embraced by your cold palm of comfort to see his eyes shut slowly of your touch. His breathing becoming deeper and calm, letting your hand drag his body closer to your own. It was peaceful, quiet and your arms surrounding each other to keep amenity. The emotions you were unable to express, shown in the way his head were placed in the crook of your neck. Unspeakable word, that were inexistent to any language other than your body. The way his fingers dug into your shirt, afraid you will leave him like before. Letting his demons get the best of him, to have them on his back every day and unsure when it will ever stop. For once, in a long time, it felt peaceful. No more demons, just you.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered softly, letting the heated atmosphere disappear. Without a response, you were unsure if he heard you or not. But the way his finger clenched tighter, told you he heard everything he needed to hear. Your heart was beating fast and it continued to skip beats, but knowing he was right there, made everything easier. Fingers running through his soft blonde hair, receiving slow breaths of warmth hit your skin. It didn’t surprise you, that this was the way you would meet Yoongi again. You were always the worst for each other, but also the most loyal. You were each other’s horrible truth, when no one else was there to punch reality into your souls.

“…I missed you, Yoongi… There was never a day that passed, without you and the others on my mind…” You continued to speak, not receiving a response than his body snuggling closer. Legs intertwined and your hearts beating slower, feeling every vibration and time flying by like a bird.

“...I’ll never leave you guys again… I promise…” You finished, not expecting an answer as he never gave one so far. Your body feeling heavy and throbbing of ache, as if you have never slept for days. Getting ready to close your eyes, indulging into the weak part of your presence you felt a stroke against your hand. Recognisable fingers sliding through your own, to hold them tightly to get warm.

Of all mornings to mess around with, Yoongi decided that Jimin would be a perfect lab rat for his seasonal crack project. Without any warning or whatsoever, Yoongi managed to wake up in the ungodly hours to set up a station and special headphones, testing if specific wavelengths and frequencies would easily influence an orgasm. On Jimin.

Jimin was happy to be greeted by a Daniel Caesar song, but not too keen on flushing red for having to cover and change his embarrassingly soaked sweats. He would've chased after Yoongi, who ran out of his room with a triumphant gummy smile after recording all of Jimin's stunned antics; but Yoongi wasn't to be fully blamed, for it was partially his doing as well, having entrusted his hyung the keys to his room. That, and for being a heavy sleeper.

If only all geniuses would dedicate their time to making good use of their aptitude, Min Yoongi wouldn’t have used ‘for the greater good of science’ as an excuse to obtain blackmail-worthy material, and Park Jimin wouldn't be hacking into Min Yoongi's database so damn early only to be hit with arbitrary urges. A generous sip of good booze could salvage his morning.

The only solution to silence the impulse was to give in, naturally — so it's 6 o' clock am and he's got his least favorite sweater on, set out for a bottle of vodka. Coming out in that dire time of the day means seeing little to no one at all, which is a relief, he wouldn’t have to encounter a crazed schoolmate eyeing him up as a potential lab rat.

This morning in San Fransokyo is quiet, save for the constant humming of the technology scattered all around. Matching the infrequent serenity, the city seems to bathe in the sun’s soft illumination, on the rare hope that when people step out, they’d appreciate its kind appearance reserved only for the last day of summer. Still, even without the harsh lighting, Jimin’s eyes remain weary, comfortable wearing them as crescents for a while.

He doesn’t notice that Yoongi’s not the only one who didn’t pay attention to the sun, and definitely not the only one who woke up extra early to work. The streets near his university were made of the asphalt with infused programming and coding tools, a special project of the seniors a few years back. Anyone was free to reach down, do their magic, and have their work plastered on the ground for 24 hours. Every midnight it reverts back to an empty canvas, so the serious programmers wouldn’t dare leave their code vulnerable to the public and have all versions of it gone by the next day.

The cobbled code path Jimin’s walking on turns out to be coded on already, resounding with his quick footsteps, imploring for him to look down and take note that he’s stepping on someone’s unfinished code art, and shit, his steps were precise accidents, but it looks like sabotage. But he doesn’t look down, and what used to be half a butterfly is now a muddled creature with its forewing absolutely wrecked, compound eye gone, antenna sticking out way too long - only the proboscis is intact.

Blessed are his feet, truly.

Damn Jeon Jungkook. Jimin is ill-equipped to be buying alcohol. 

Not that Jimin looked like a kid and he'd need verification to drown himself in liquor, no. The Christmas sweater that Jungkook gave wasn't enough to shelter Jimin from the coldness of the store and the icy stares from middle-aged ladies that were there for marked-down items. They didn't wake up early to see an abominable sweater being worn by a resting-bitch faced kid that looked like he'd lived through a thousand lifetimes.

Giving an ugly sweater is one thing, but to give a sweater with a gingerbread man flexing his icing abs is on an entirely different league.

Even the store is on a different league. It's close-set, aiming to provide as much as it could with the little area it has. What its span lack, the height of its shelves surely make up for it, reaching up to 7 rows. Not tall enough to be touching the ceiling, but it definitely towers over Jimin. So he sucks it up, cold, height difference, and all.  

Height is an issue, yet the store's strategy in product location is ludicrous. Who in the right mind would allow such a thing? Jimin thought San Fransokyo was a progressive city, however, precious liquor settled in the same aisle as laundry detergent says otherwise. Most importantly, Jimin's favorite brand of liquor sits at the sixth row, just a little bit beyond his reach when he jumps. The only staff present are the saleslady that could challenge Jimin's resting bitch face, the two cashiers from his university looking dead before the semester even started, and that one janitor being reprimanded by one of the early-comer middle-aged ladies for placing a wet-floor sign near the 35% off fish fillet.  

This aisle is more than a minefield.

There are two ways to complete his task. One is to arduously climb the shelf, grab a bottle or two, climb down, then go in peace. Two is to grab it in his mind and the bottle will come floating down to him, no climbing involved. Telekinesis worked like that, right? But his presumably telekinetic abilities (powers, whatever) came to him out of nowhere, and it could betray him for no reason. The shelf isn't made for occasional customer climbing. Both options are dangerous, and there are other variables to consider. The janitor reprimanding lady could happen to pass by the aisle to get to the rack of 50% off wet wipes and see Jimin - may the convenience store gods forbid it.   

He tries to will the bottle to descend from the shelf. He imagines a path and directs it to his open hand, but to no avail, from any onlooker he appears to be forcing to shit himself. 

He tries again. The entire shelf of laundry detergent and the whole sixth row of bottles float for a while and he panics. The detergents somehow spill themselves and join in the 'make Jimin panic more' party. All but the bottle that he wanted stops floating and blesses the store's floor by simultaneously breaking, along with Jimin's heart at the thought that he had to explain the mess. What would he even say? 'Sorry, I didn't want to disturb your staff to get the item I wanted so I took it upon myself to miraculously break all the bottles on the sixth shelf? Don't worry, I may have student loans to pay but I'm sure I'll compensate for this mess eventually!'  

Even worse, he would have to choose whether to take the second semester and survive with cup noodles or work full-time as Yoongi's lab rat. He still has a shred of dignity to keep, no thanks, Yoongi.

He already broke things anyway, so it's all or nothing. Better come home with a bottle than none at all. Jimin resorts to first original option, because climbing is obviously way more safer than 'grabbing the bottle with his mind.'

So he climbs. Bingo. Should've done that the first time.

It's not a big store, so the small amount of staff and patrons they had heard the crash and are silently watching Jimin elegantly climb down the shelf, avoid bits of glass on the floor, and tiptoe on the sea of unicorn vomit. On one end of the aisle, the saleslady seemed heartbroken for the janitor, who didn't spare a second look at whatever calamity swept through. He had already turned on his heels, heading for his mop and bucket. The fish fillet lady looked absolutely furious. Not good.

Jimin is stuck a very delicate place.

He continues to tiptoe on the unholy offspring of fabric conditioner and booze until—

"Oh hey dude, what ha—?" One of the cashiers suddenly appears sat the other end of the aisle with a concerned look on his face, which iss oddly familiar to Jimin. Could he be one of Taehyung's past flings? Or that dude that Hoseok drunkenly kissed one time. Probably both. 

Regardless of the cashier's identity, Jimin runs away.

Of course he fucking slips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck." His palms and knees took most of the impact and earned scratches. Still all or nothing, he continues to run even though his limbs disagree with the spontaneous plan to exert energy, wobbling with the guilt and panic of evading responsibility.

"Sorry man, not my fault!" Jimin shouts. Immediately spotting a rack full of Hello Kitty bandages, he grabs a handful and speeds across the store as fast as his unwilling limbs could take it.   

A Jollibee statue is waiting for him at the exit, so with Jimin's last functioning brain cell he throws two 20 dollar bills somewhere and makes it out of the store, turning Jollibee into a casualty by knocking him down at the exact moment Jimin's legs give up.