Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/10735107. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: M/M Fandom: 방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS Relationship: Jeon_Jungkook/Park_Jimin, Jeon_Jungkook/Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Jung_Hoseok_| J-Hope/Park_Jimin Character: Park_Jimin_(BTS), Jeon_Jungkook, Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap_Monster, Kim_Taehyung |_V, Jung_Hoseok_|_J-Hope Additional Tags: Alternate_Universe_-_College/University, College, High_School, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Explicit_Language, Family_Issues, Internal_Conflict, Sexual_Tension, Mental_Health_Issues, Tutoring, Sexual Frustration, Emotional_Manipulation, First_Love, Daddy_Issues, Slow_Burn, Lust_at_First_Sight Stats: Published: 2017-04-26 Updated: 2017-05-10 Chapters: 4/? Words: 22929 ****** What Am I To You? ****** by jibootycall Summary After getting accepted into Hongik University, one of the best and most prestigious fine art institutions in the nation, Jimin struggles to find balance between working two jobs to afford tuition and pursuing his dream of contemporary dance at Hongik's dance institute. When he accepts a position as a tutor to make additional money on the side, he meets Jungkook, a careless schoolboy that'll throw his parents' money at anything to satisfy him, and things begin to change drastically... ***** Chapter 1 ***** Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep...   The repetitive chime echoed through the dark, anxiously searching for a host before nuzzling itself into Jimin’s ears. He had become numb to the all too familiar sound, drowning it out behind deep sighs and heavy lids. He instinctively buried his head into his pillow, groaning in annoyance before rustling about under the sheets. He knew he couldn’t ignore it much longer. He’d wake up Namjoon and the last thing he wanted was to deal with an angry roommate at 4:30 in the morning.   Beep… Beep… Beep…Be—   Jimin blindly searched for the alarm on his bedside table and pressed it hard when his fingertips found the button. He sat upright and groaned again, his voice groggy and hoarse. He ran his tongue across his lips to wet his dry mouth, hating how he slept with it open every night. Just another bad habit he couldn’t shake, he thought.   He padded across the room and whisked a white tee shirt off the floor before lifting it over his arms. His eyes were still puffy and half shut, unadjusted to anything but the darkness that engulfed his room. He hated getting up so early everyday, but he knew it was necessary.   Jimin worked the morning shift at the local café across from his school’s main campus every day for the past three months. It was exhausting and left him drained by the time he had class at noon, but it was money and that’s what he desperately needed. Jimin had just entered his second year at Hongik University in the Mapo-gu district of central Seoul. Hongik was notoriously known as one of the most prestigious universities in the country, earning the title of best architecture and fine arts institution, but he refused to let that intimidate him. Jimin was intelligent and quite studious in his late years of high school, but his acceptance to Hongik still came as a surprise to him. He painstakingly pushed through each and every night studying for his entrance exams, eyes strained from staring at the same three textbooks over and over, but he worked hard to earn his place here at Hongik. He knew his family couldn’t afford it and that’s why he took it upon himself to pay for every single expense. He wanted to make them proud, but more importantly to Jimin, he wanted to pursue his dream of dance.   He could hear the birds beginning to chirp outside his window, the third floor apartment humming with nature’s small whispers and babbles as he greeted the morning bitterly. He could hear Namjoon’s heavy snoring from behind a wall and knew he didn’t need to worry about waking him as he shimmied out the front door and locked it behind him.   The remnants of the night before still lingered on the streets as Jimin approached the Hongdae club district that encompassed Hongik. Jimin’s apartment was a ten-minute walk from the area but he never really minded the early morning stroll to work. The air was chill and damp, clinging to the small tufts of grass that peeked through the cracks in the sidewalk as he walked. Hongdae was easily Jimin’s favorite thing about Hongik—it was his first real taste of nightlife that he’d never seen back home in Busan. Hongdae was inarguably the most popular weekend destination for students to drink, dance, and forget about whatever exams they had in the upcoming week. Jimin admittedly partook in a lot of that as well, but what drew him to Hongdae wasn’t the nightlife… it was the bustling indie scene, the colorful urban street art, and the underground musicians nestled on every street corner. The neighborhood itself was built on the artistic souls that inhabited it, their creativity painting every crevice like a blank canvas begging to be soiled. Jimin found himself most attracted to the street performers, the dancers that moved their feet so delicately along the pavement, moving effortlessly to the music of the city among them. The coarse, drunken shouts… the endless wailing of car horns and emergency sirens… the warm laughter of friends amongst each other… the infinite pairs of feet clacking erratically on the asphalt…   It was in that moment Jimin got carried away, and he stumbled briefly along the curb. He cursed under his breath as he looked up and realized he was outside of the café—a neon pink sign flashed vibrantly against the darkness of the street, blurting out ‘Café Orda Salon’. The café was a hub for local artists and students seeking isolation within the city, its entrance hidden from the main street view of Hongdae. Although working a café was a high-stress situation, the atmosphere of Café Orda was inexplicably relaxing and serene. Jimin oftentimes felt himself dozing off when a rush of customers would die down, his eyes resting peacefully on the rows of lacquer artworks that lined the wall adjacent to the register.   “Jiminie, you’re here,” a voice called from across the gallery-like space, bouncing off the rustic brick walls. A man with peach-colored hair stepped toward him, hands resting on his slim yet defined waist. It was Hoseok, Jimin’s boss. He was responsible for hiring Jimin just three months ago and in that time Jimin had already grown to become Hoseok’s favorite employee. Hoseok smiled brightly at Jimin before stepping behind the wood countertop, counting a few bills in the register and getting straight to business.   “I felt like being productive today so I started up the machines already,” he gently nodded his head towards the espresso machine on the back counter. “If you could change the menu and fill up the pastry rack that would be superb.”   Jimin’s relationship with Hoseok was similar to that of a friend. He had never truly considered him his boss ever since his first day on the job. Realistically speaking Hoseok was only a year older than him, but had earned the responsibility of running the café in place of the owner. He didn’t live in Hongdae or attend university at Hongik, but he took great pride in providing the best service to its residents. Jimin thinks he dropped out of school years ago, but he’s not too sure.   “Anything for Hoseokkie,” Jimin turned red in the cheeks as he blurted out. He knew pet names were cheesy and frankly a bit strange between coworkers, but he couldn’t describe how he felt toward Hoseok. They had grown closer in the brief time they’d worked together, and he knew that Hoseok rather enjoyed a bit of flirtation throughout the day—nothing more, nothing less.   “I saw that crew outside last night again, the one you’ve been eyeing,” Hoseok said while polishing the stainless steel appliances, carefully running a warm rag over the cool machines.   “Oh, yeah? How’d they look?” Jimin asked curiously, hands filled with small croquettes and flaky pastries, meticulously filling the rack with delightful- smelling goodies. Jimin knew exactly which group he was talking about—the H crew. All members of the prestigious Hongik dance institute that Jimin so desperately wanted to be a part of.   “Mostly hip-hop last night, but they sure gathered a crowd,” he continued. “I recognized a few of them out there—they come in here sometimes to study on the terrace. I dunno how you guys do it… multitasking like that… shit, university is hard enough on its own.”   “It’s the money that’s hard for me,” Jimin chuckled under his breath, raising his hand to wave around a perfectly golden croissant. “Do you think I’d be here displaying pastries at 5 in the morning on my own free will?”   “But you’re so good with those buns, Jiminie!” Jimin’s eyes shot into Hoseok like daggers, but he laughed it off with the older man.   “Really, though…” Jimin glanced around the room as the overhead lights blinked to life, the dining floor illuminated to showcase it’s glossy sheen. He could hear his coworkers in the back room prepping ingredients and grinding coffee beans—the sharp aroma wafted inside the building like a thick fog. “This is my second job and I think I’m gonna have to take on a third pretty soon. The institute is nearly double my regular tuition and I can’t afford that as is.”   “You thought about scholarships? Taking out a loan?” Hoseok asked.   “Mmm… yeah, I already have one scholarship, but it’s not enough. I’m not smart enough to get much else from this school, Hobi.” Jimin hated to admit it, but it was true. If he were fortunate enough to be gifted with a brain like Namjoon, who already had three different scholarships under his belt, then maybe he could muster up a second one… but it simply wasn’t realistic. Neither was taking out a loan for money he knew he could never pay off.   “That’s not true, Jimin.” Hoseok stopped fuddling with the coffee machines to look him in the eye. “You’re plenty smart. Hell, smarter than I ever was in school. If you need help with anything, you know I’ll be here for you. Just ask, okay? I’ll be here.”   “Hobi?”   “Hmm?”   “Y-you wanna go out with Namjoon and I… tomorrow night?” Jimin asked hesitantly. He didn’t know where the offer came from, but something in him wanted to spend more time with Hoseok outside of their dreadful morning shifts at the café. Namjoon had an exam for his engineering class this upcoming Monday and wanted to blow off some steam at the bars before then. Jimin didn’t mind barhopping with Namjoon on the weekends, but something about it made him feel distant… like he was simply there to observe and not partake. He thought the possibility of Hoseok tagging along could make him feel more comfortable… and who knows, maybe he’ll actually get to know more about him? It’s not wrong to leisurely spend time with your boss, right?   Hoseok’s eyes glass over Jimin for a brief second as if he was deep in thought, but he immediately bounced back to his regular cheerful, glowing state. “’Course I’ll go, Jimin. If you wanted to take me out on a proper date, you should’ve said something months ago.”   “It’s not a d-date!” Jimin snapped back defensively. He embarrassingly scuttled over to the front door and flicked on the ‘open’ sign, the neon lights flicking briefly before blooming red against the glass window. With one swift movement he unlocked the front door and propped it open gently, taking in the warm orange sunrise that bled through the sleepy alley.   “Sure it isn’t,” Hoseok smiled widely and disappeared into the back room, presumably to his desk to complete whatever orders were due today. Jimin’s hand ran up to touch his soft, plump cheek and he winced. It was warm and pink under his touch.           “This one will do.”   Jungkook ran his fingers up around the collar of the suit jacket and adjusted it ever so slightly, pulling the navy blue fabric down along his skin. It was crisp to the touch and smelled new, the soft material tailored perfectly to his muscular build. He flicked at a piece of fuzz along his shoulder and watched it lazily fall to the floor. Every inch of the piece of clothing had to be perfect or he wasn’t going to buy a thing.   “It really looks lovely on you, Mister Jeon,” the soft-spoken boutique assistant looked at him cordially and flashed a slight smile, her teeth perfectly white and straight under her cherry glossed lips.   “I don’t want to look lovely. I want to look intimidating. Like a lion ready to feast on a poor baby lamb.” His jaw tightened, hair messily strewn across his face as he turned to observe himself in the three-paneled mirror. He ran a hand through his brown-black hair, tousling it into place and smirking at his own appearance. “Do you have the shirts ready?”   “Yes, sir.” She scurried across the room in her low heels, retrieving several button down shirts in various shades of whites, pinks, and blues. “I think you’ll like what I’ve picked out today. Nothing too similar to your last purchase.”   Jungkook stepped down from the mirror and waltzed over to the shirts that the assistant was carefully hanging on the rack, unapologetically whisking through them with the utmost speed and focus. He landed on a soft blue one, the material feeling thin and silky to the touch, and tossed it on the plush white settee across the room. The assistant quickly adverted her gaze when he carelessly removed his jacket and let it fall to the floor, immediately moving to unbutton the white dress shirt beneath it. He shamelessly gestured for the assistant to grab the blue shirt off the settee.   “You know… I’m awfully tired of playing dress up,” he teased, his eyes fixated on the girl that clearly looked uncomfortable with his request, she looked at him hesitantly, her eyes refusing to drop below his chin. That wasn’t what Jungkook wanted.   “Come here, Jisu.” He lifted a finger and gestured for her to come closer. The assistant held the soft fabric of the shirt in hand and walked toward Jungkook, eyes darting to her own feet.   “Don’t be like that,” he purred, lips inching towards her neck, breath warm against her ear. He could see she was blushing, blood rushing into her cheeks so colorfully. The assistant raised the shirt up as Jungkook stretched out his arms, revealing his perfectly sculpted torso. “I know you look at me when I come here. I see you giggling with the other noonas in the back while I browse, like a little lamb.”   “Mister J-Jeon… I…” A small gasp escaped her lips as his hands traced along her chin and down her neck, stopping ever so slightly at her chest and giving it a gentle squeeze over the fabric. “You’re underage… I-I… I could get fired… I c- could get arrested… there… there are cameras in here…”   Her words meant nothing to Jungkook, the soft hum of her voice drown out by his own impetuous desires bubbling under his skin, eager to break the surface with every hot breath he lay against her neck. He knew she’d give in within seconds of his touch, his rough hands tracing ever so delicately along her petite frame. She was silent in that moment, stiff under his grasp, but she wanted it. Why wouldn’t she?   He licked along her skin, tongue tracing the smooth shape of her jawline and along her defined collarbones. He could hear her soft whimpers, the need in her voice. He continued to tease, body pulling closer to hers with his hands twisted in her chocolate brown hair.   “You’re so small, so fragile…” he hummed under his breath, sucking in her sweet aroma. “So ready to be broken.”   He could feel her easing into his touch, body going numb under the palm of his hand. So enticing, but nevertheless… still not what he wanted.   “That’ll be all, Jisu. I’ll take everything.”   Jungkook stepped away unabashedly, not even looking at the assistant before exiting the dressing room. He muttered something indiscreet under his breath before approaching the marble countertop and slapping down his black card. His eyes wandered around the boutique while waiting for his transaction to be completed. He could see the other noonas looking at him with a weird expression on their faces… Jungkook couldn’t quite read it, but it’s not like he cared enough anyway. His father had been loyal to the high-end boutique in Gangnam-gu since he was a child and it was only natural that he trusted his father’s choice of establishments. The noonas at the boutique had always been nice to Jungkook, almost too nice, and he abused it on occasion. He wouldn’t want to taint the boutique’s relationship with the Jeon family too tremendously after all.   Jungkook left the boutique after giving the assistants a hefty tip and instructing that his purchases be delivered safely to his family home just outside of Gangnam-gu. He still had more shopping to do, but he was growing rather impatient and bored with the whole scenario. Jungkook only shopped to pass the time after all. There wasn’t much else for him to do, especially back at home. His parents both worked internationally and traveled so frequently that they were never home. The property itself merely served as a shell of a home, an isolation chamber for Jungkook to reside. Sure, there were plenty of housekeepers and groundskeepers that kept the property neat and tidy, but that didn’t matter to Jungkook. He was constantly alone, constantly left to sulk in his own desperation. He had everything, but at the same time he had nothing; powerful, yet powerless. He despised it.   “Pick me up. I’m on the corner by Valentino,” he said, pressing his phone firmly against his ear. Within moments a large black car purred around the street corner before coming to a stop. Jungkook opened the back door and slid in, refusing to greet the driver as he instructed him to take him home.   “Your father tried calling you earlier,” the driver said, glancing back at Jungkook through the rearview mirror. “Perhaps you should give him a call back.”   “Yeah. Perhaps.” Jungkook rolled his eyes but knew he probably should. His father only called on matters of importance. He sometimes wishes he’d call just to check up on him, but they both knew that wasn’t how their relationship worked.   “Hi, daddy,” he said in a flat tone, eyes glazing over the scenery outside his window. It had been raining sporadically throughout the day so the pavement was littered in puddles, the lights of the city reflecting rather beautifully in their pools. Jungkook loved the city when it rained… something about the sea of umbrellas shifting along the sidewalks made him feel at peace. The soothing sound of raindrops hitting the tops of each building as they spilled into the street… he could fall asleep to that sound so easily. “You called during my fitting. I see you called Dongwoo as well. Must be something important, no?”   “Your mother was notified by the school about your grades today, Jungkook. She’s been told you haven’t been attending any of your classes this month and that upset her greatly.”   “Since when do either of you care about me?” He spat, teeth gritting under his lips.   “We care very much about you. Christ, Jungkook… we essentially let you do whatever you want while we’re out of the country. We ask that you keep up with your schoolwork in return.”   “If that’s a request, then I don’t have to obey it.” He sneered. Jungkook had become so good at manipulating those around him that he almost forgot how easy it was to do so. A true talent, he thought. If it were his mother that called him first, she would already be apologizing for pestering him about school, which is probably why she had his father call this time. He was harder to sway, but Jungkook knew he would crack with time, patience, and just a bit of whining.   “It’s a request I’d hope you would follow, but as I’m not there to see through to it, you’re correct.”   “Tell me then, daddy… what’s the point of going to class?” He asked, running a finger down the window, rubbing away the condensation to reveal the clear glass. “You and mommy work hard so I don’t have to. I like things the way they are.”   “We’ve talked about this before, Jungkook.” Jungkook knew what he was going to say, but he didn’t want to hear it again. He didn’t want to talk about university and the whole lecture on making your own fortune, earning your success the hard way, whatever. “We want you to learn how to live on your own. You’re not going to be able to rely on us forever, even if it seems like the most reasonable thing to you in this moment.”   “You want me to live on my own, yet you do nothing to make that happen,” Jungkook paused, sucking air into his cheeks as he rested his elbow on the stiff leather armrest. “Tell me, daddy, when was the last time you were home to even look at me? To look me in the eyes and ask me how school was going?”   “Jungkook—”   “No, no.” He had him wrapped around his finger and he knew it. This conversation was over. “You know you don’t really care. You just don’t want to make yourself look bad.”   The line was silent but Jungkook knew his father was still there.   “Oh goodness… how everyone in the country club would gossip if they heard Jeon’s son had flunked out of school,” he continued. “Our name would be ruined… just tarnished, don’t you think?”   The smirk on Jungkook’s face grew wide with the silence. He saw Dongwoo glance back at him but he wouldn’t dare speak a word about their conversation. Jungkook had won, he already knew, but something inside him felt hollow… like he knew his father was right, but he couldn’t accept it. How could he accept it when he practically raised himself during these past few years?   “We’ll be looking into some options. I’ll give you a call in a few days.”   The line went silent, but this time Jungkook knew his father had hung up. Suddenly Jungkook wasn’t so pleased with himself. He had grown quite tired of the constant bickering, the phone calls back and forth between mother and father… it was always about something he had done wrong, something they wanted to scold him for. He had become so immune to the calls that he treated them as entertainment; he knew that they had no control over his actions, and they never tried to take control even if they did hold that power. They were weak—smart and business-savvy, sure, but weak.   “Is there anything you need before we arrive home, Mister Jeon?” Dongwoo asked politely. Jungkook pondered for a brief moment before facing his chauffer; phone in hand ready to make another call.   “Yes, actually. Make a detour at Kim Taehyung’s.”           By the time Jimin returned to his apartment he was exhausted. He debated skipping his journalism class after work so he could come home early and sleep off the day, but he pushed through and went anyway. He knew he couldn’t afford to skip too many classes due to the strict attendance policy at Hongik, but the temptation to drop everything and sleep for days on end was bubbling beneath his skin. He desperately needed to shake it.   He fidgeted with his keys before opening the apartment door and dropping his school bag directly in front of his feet. Namjoon was sunken into the couch across the room, eyes wide and focused on whatever video game he was playing, his hands jerking sporadically on the controller.   “Jimin-ah!” His mouth twist into a tight smile with dimples on full display. He refused to look away from the game but Jimin knew he was watching him from his peripheral vision. “You look dead.”   “You’re not even looking at me, hyung, how d’you know what I look like?” Jimin scowled but he knew Namjoon was right. He felt dead.   Jimin sulked over to the couch and planted himself next to Namjoon, practically sitting in his lap because the couch itself was so small. Their apartment was sparse and lacked a proper amount of furniture, which in a way was a good thing because it made the space look larger than it really was. He had lived with Namjoon since his freshman year at Hongik, but he had known him since high school. They didn’t attend the same high school, but their parents were friends and that was how they were introduced. It wasn’t until Namjoon discovered that Jimin got accepted into Hongik that he began talking to him, and their friendship blossomed from there.   “Work rough today, eh?” Namjoon set the controller down and leaned back into the couch, sighing deeply as he closed his eyes and stretched his legs out onto the coffee table. Jimin stared at the ceiling intently, his mind drained of any meaningful thoughts.   “Yep, like always,” he said. “I actually invited Hoseokkie… er… Hoseok out with us tomorrow night. Figured you wouldn’t mind all that much.”   “Nah, that’s cool. Hoseokkie?” Namjoon grinned. Jimin balled his hand into a small fist and punched him lightly on the shoulder. His strength was nothing compared to Namjoon’s and that made him burst out into laughter.   “I-I might like him… I dunno…”   “Feelings are weird, Jimin. I say test the waters and see where it takes you,” Namjoon said, groaning as he let out a deep yawn and removed himself from the couch. “And if you want some alone time, hey, I won’t bother you guys.”   “Hyung, you’re the worst.” Jimin growled, throwing a pillow at him across the room.   He had never really thought of Hoseok as anything more than a casual flirt, but the past few weeks had left Jimin feeling things that he was rather uncertain about. Jimin had relationships in the past, but nothing more serious than a few occasional dates and a hookup or two. With the stress of the dance institute lingering in the back of his mind, everything kept him on high alert. He had no time for spontaneity, much less a real relationship to invest himself in. That’s exactly what Hoseok was to Jimin—an investment. He wasn’t sure if that was what he needed right now, but something about it felt… right.           “J-J-Jungkook-ah… right there…”   Taehyung squirmed under his weight, shifting his body ever so slightly so Jungkook could dig his thighs in deeper. His hands gripped Taehyung’s hips with ease as he thrust back and forth almost melodically, his body moving so effortlessly over the older man’s. Jungkook could taste the sweet scent of Taehyung between his lips, his tongue grazing over his jawline… down to his throat…   A deep moan escaped Taehyung’s lips as Jungkook sucked a bruise into his neck before biting down hard, nipping at the soft skin underneath. His mouth crept back up to his ear, breath hot and needy.   “Do I make hyung feel good?” Jungkook growled low and viciously, hips continuing to rut between Taehyung’s. He picked up the pace a bit, skin slapping against skin, the stickiness of the sweat serving as the perfect lubricant between their bodies. He could feel Taehyung’s need, his soft whimpers escaping his lips between every thrust, and he knew he couldn’t keep teasing him for much longer.   “S-so good… ah…” Taehyung cried as he ran his fingers up over Jungkook’s chest, feeling his muscles pulsating under the skin, the tough exterior flexing roughly as he pounded into him. Jungkook slid a hand away from Taehyung’s hip and cupped it around the back of his head, fingers finding clumps of hair and pulling violently. He pulled his head back with one hard jerk and he was back on his neck, tongue tracing along his the muscles in his neck as he continued to suck bruises into him, his skin painted deep shades of blues and purples.   Jungkook could feel Taehyung’s swollen cock poking against his belly, his warm juices rubbing into the patch of skin just under his bellybutton. He moved his hands out towards Taehyung’s thighs, spreading them out wide as he thrust deeper into him, one hand moving to rub his throbbing cock, hand grazing over the tip ever so slightly.   “I can make hyung feel even better,” he breathed, moving up and down along Taehyung’s cock in long, fluid motions. “Does hyung want to feel even better?”   “Y-yes… Jungkook-ah… h-hyung wants…” he cried as Jungkook’s other hand reached out to cup the underside of his balls, fingers softly massaging the tissue while the hand around his cock continued to pump, stopping at the tip to rub it harder with his thumb. His hips worked simultaneously with his hands, cock rolling deeper into Taehyung’s hole while his hands jerked viciously from base to tip and back down again. Jungkook could feel Taehyung tensing up, the warm muscle around his cock squeezed tightly causing Jungkook to tilt his head back and let out a deep, husky moan.   “Hyung is such a pretty boy when he begs,” Jungkook’s lips snagged in his teeth, his voice growing weaker as his breaths become heated and labored. “Show me how hyung begs.”   “Jungkook… ah… gonna c-c-cum…” his eyes squeeze shut, mouth open as his whole body begins to shake profusely, muscles beginning to spasm uncontrollably under his skin. Jungkook watches with the utmost fascination at the way he moves, hands clenching the silken sheets beneath him, legs jerking wildly under the weight of Jungkook’s lower body. “G-gonna… hit the… spot…”   With one final thrust Taehyung finishes, cum oozing down his cock and all over his belly. Jungkook doesn’t release himself from Taehyung, but eases up on the thrusting to reach a finger down into his cum, sopping it up into his hand and bringing it to Taehyung’s lips. Taehyung sucks on his fingers, tongue wrapping around Jungkook’s middle and index, moving up and down his knuckles before releasing, a bead of drool dripping down his chin as he relaxes back onto the pillow.   “Seems hyung forgot it’s my turn,” Jungkook snarled, flipping Taehyung on his back before squeezing his ass with both hands. Taehyung moaned at the touch, cock leaking cum onto the sheets underneath.   “Hyung didn’t forget… hyung’s ready for Jungkookie’s turn.” He lifted his hips off the mattress, elbows still rested along the sheets, and pressed his ass against Jungkook’s erection, cock nuzzling effortlessly between his soft cheeks. Jungkook licked his lips before pushing two fingers in his mouth, wetting the ends and sliding them into Taehyung’s entrance. The older man moaned into the touch, ass rutting against Jungkook’s solid cock. He lined himself up with Taehyung’s entrance and with one smooth thrust he was in… it was enough to make Jungkook throw his head back with pleasure, the warmth of Taehyung surrounding his own throbbing member. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since they’d fucked at Taehyung’s apartment—for months now it seemed it was always at Jungkook’s family home… his parents’ bed to be exact. Jungkook didn’t care. It’s not like anyone slept there anyway.   Jungkook gripped Taehyung’s ass hard, fingers digging into the soft, plump flesh. He met each thrust with such power and need… hands sliding from Taehyung’s hips to his underside, arms locked around his belly in a bear hug as his torso pressed tightly against his back. The sound of skin rubbing, sweat sliding and sloshing around between their bodies… it was enough to make Jungkook almost cum on the spot, but he kept going. He rode out his erection with such ease that left both him and Taehyung breathless. But he wanted more. He craved it.   He immediately picked up the pace, balls slapping against his own thighs as he worked Taehyung as hard as he could, moving in such a manner that left Taehyung lashing back and forth like a jackhammer. The room was silent in that moment… no speaking, just bodies moving… touching… feeling every inch of each other… not a single inch of skin left unexplored.   Jungkook’s breaths grew increasingly short and labored as he fucked Taehyung with every ounce of strength that he possessed, his arms growing numb as the familiar sensation took over his entire body.   “Jungkookie’s uh… guh… gonna c-cum…” he screamed, releasing himself into Taehyung in such an aggressive manner that left him stumbling back on the bed, face pressed hard into the pillow. Jungkook’s grip around Taehyung’s waist tightened an uncomfortable amount, his ribs feeling bruised under the younger boy’s arms. Jungkook bit deep into the curve of Taehyung’s back, teeth snagging on the flesh and tasting a trickle of blood release from the skin. He continued to ride out his orgasm—quick at first, then slowly until coming to a halt. He slid himself out and rolled over on his back, resting delicately next to Taehyung.   “I forgot how much you hurt,” Taehyung complained, voice indistinct under the fluff of the pillow that covered half his face.   “You like it,” Jungkook sneered, nuzzling himself into the bed and pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. He was exhausted and the last thing he wanted was to go home to an empty house.   “I do,” he replied lovingly before turning over on his side, his front facing the edge of the bed.   The room fell silent again, but in a manner that left Jungkook feeling at ease—peaceful, almost. His eyelids grew heavy, each blink becoming harder to hold open as he drifted away. The low hum of the air conditioner buzzing in the small apartment mixed with Taehyung’s soft breathing was enough to rock him gently to sleep. It was the closest thing to happiness for Jungkook… and right now it was enough. Chapter End Notes The idea for this fic came to me out of nowhere and I'm honestly SO excited to keep writing it. I want to rush into things with Jimin x Jungkook but we're simply not there in the story yet. I might play with the chapter length a bit as I'm unsure if 5k per chapter is enough, but we'll see (I'll also be updating the tags as I go along). Anyway thanks so much for reading, your support is so very much appreciated. <3 Let me know what you think!! ***** Chapter 2 ***** Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes “What if he doesn’t show up?”   “He’ll show up, Jimin-ah. You think he’d really flake on you when he has to see you at work tomorrow morning?”   “Good point,” Jimin held his glass daintily in his palm, fingers wrapped around the thin neck as he raised it to his lips and devoured the fruity pink liquid.   Namjoon had brought him to one of his personal favorite spots in Hongdae—an EDM club called M2. The EDM music scene was admittedly dying out within Hongdae, but the club still lived to be one of the most popular weekend hotspots regardless of that fact. Jimin never liked electronic music… it all sounded the same to him. The smooth, robotic beats and repetitive nature of EDM gave him a headache, but he knew it’s what Namjoon liked so he went along without a fuss. At least it’s something easy to dance to, Jimin thought. He’s going to need to down more mixed drinks before even thinking of moving out onto the dance floor… especially with Hoseok around. How embarrassing this could be.   “I’m gonna get another drink, you want anything?” Namjoon stood up from the white plush couch and squeezed his was out of the small nook of space they had made for themselves. Jimin raised his empty class, gesturing softly over the blaring music.   “Whatever this was… I want three more.”   He could already feel the buzz rushing to his head as Namjoon nodded and disappeared into the crowd. He closed his eyes but could still see the neon lights under his lids, the pinks and blues of the flashing lights bursting through the darkness. He could see why people pop pills at these kind of places. The music was hypnotizing… enticing… tempting… God only knows what it’s like when you’re high.   Every sound pulsated through his body, swallowing his senses. The mixed drink was strong and his face felt warm, the hot liquid dribbling down from his cheeks to his belly in a matter of seconds. He watched from his seat as the young people danced, swarms of bodies touching and bouncing under the heat of the night. Hips grinding in unison, arms raised eagerly for the beat to drop. He wasn’t going to lie… it was turning him on ever so slightly.   Namjoon returned momentarily, arms full with glasses as he smiled big. The pink liquid sloshed around as the rims clanked together. Namjoon carefully set each concoction down on the clear coffee table before sulking back into the couch.   “You, my friend, have fucking expensive taste,” he complained, punching Jimin’s arm lightly but with enough force to leave a sore sensation on the skin. Jimin rubbed it in annoyance, scrunching his nose as he brought the fresh glass to his lips and sipped slowly.   “What’d you get?” He asked as he noticed Namjoon hadn’t brought anything back for himself. Namjoon avoided his gaze but let out a slow chuckle.   “Well I… uh… I ordered a couple shots for myself,” he said with perfect timing as the bartender came around to their table, smiling as she carefully set a display of three different colored liquids down. “Speaking of that… mmm mmm…”   Namjoon rubbed his hands together, tongue slightly peeking out of his lower lip. He picked up the first small glass with his index and thumb, sniffing it briefly before throwing his head back and downing the vodka with ease. The glass slammed back on the table with force, the loud “clack” noise piercing Jimin’s ears over the music. Namjoon winced, then groaned as his fingers found the second shot glass.   “So disgusting but so good,” he growled. Jimin watched as he chugged down both remaining liquids, his face puckering with each swig. Yeah, he’d much rather stick to his fruity drinks.   Jimin finished off his second drink when he saw the orange-haired man bustling through the crowd, his face bewildered as he searched for a familiar one among the sea of drunken, sweaty faces. Hoseok looked completely out of place, his crisp white dress shirt tucked perfectly into his light wash skinny jeans, soft brown loafers on his feet to tie the look together effortlessly. His hair almost looked florescent under the strobe lights, the peachy hues illuminated so brightly in the dinge of the club. He cleaned up nicely, Jimin thought.   “Jiminie,” he smiled widely, teeth on full display as mouth formed that perfect heart shape that it always did. “I was beginning to think you’d sent me to the wrong place.”   Jimin chuckled, eyes fixed on Namjoon who pat a hand down on the couch, gesturing for Hoseok to sit down between the two of them. “You can blame Namjoon for that, this place is not my style at all.”   “Likewise,” he agreed. “I believe we haven’t had a proper introduction, Namjoon. Jimin talks about you quite a lot so it feels like I already know you.”   “Oh yeah, Jimin’s got quite the crush on me,” he laughed and Jimin glared at him, his cheeks showing the faintest pink color. Hoseok surveyed the area before waving a hand to hail a waitress.   “I see you guys have started without me, looks like I’ll have to catch up,” he spoke as the waitress asked what he’d like to drink. He ordered something unfamiliar to Jimin, but he didn’t bother to ask what it was… he was fixated on Hoseok’s eyes—the way they squinted ever so slightly at the corners, irises blooming a beautiful chocolate brown under the neon lights. He seemed a bit uncomfortable, but Jimin was, too. Namjoon’s teasing didn’t make anything easier.   “Hey, maybe you could work here, Jiminie,” Hoseok said as he watched the DJ at the front of the club give one last ‘thank you’ before packing up his equipment and letting another man take his place. The club fell silent as the next DJ began setting up, people scattering amongst the floor and mingling in the down time.   “What?” Jimin asked curiously.   “I know they pay dancers at these kind of places… not like, you know, those kind of dancers… but more just people to pump up the crowd, yeah?”   “He’s right,” Namjoon added. “But the pay sucks.”   Jimin thought it over in his head. He absolutely needed the money, but was it really worth it? Selling himself as some nightclub prop? He’d seen a few members of the H crew dance on the weekends down at Club Vera, another one of Namjoon’s favored spots, but he had no desire to do it himself. He was a classically trained dancer and although he knew the ins and outs of hip-hop, he would much rather dance contemporary in a formal setting. He wanted to dance solely for Hongik, he thought.   “I dunno, the only reason I go to these clubs is ‘cuz of Namjoon. I’d rather not spend more time here and make it a habit,” he said and both men nodded in agreement. “I wish there was something easier. I already struggle with the shit I have to do at the café—sorry, Hoseok—and between that and my classes… I… I really don’t know what to do. I’m fucking stuck.”   “Hey now…” Namjoon reached over Hoseok and rested a hand on Jimin’s knee, giving it a loving squeeze before letting go. “Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay? I can help you with whatever shit you need help with… but it can wait until tomorrow. Promise.”   “Namjoon’s right,” Hoseok added. “Sorry, Jiminie, I didn’t mean to stress you out.”   “I’m okay, really,” Jimin replied. “Right now I just want to get drunk.”   The DJ fired up the stage once again, music bursting to life through the speakers as they trembled under the deep pressure of the beat. Jimin could feel the bass flowing through his body and the whole club began shaking, the smooth rhythm drawing the crowd back onto the dance floor. Hoseok took it as an invitation to stand and reach out for Jimin’s hand. A rush of nerves fluttered in his chest, but Jimin accepted and followed him to the floor.   “Please excuse us, Namjoon, I hope you don’t mind if I steal Jimin away for a dance or two,” Hoseok stopped and asked most formally, making Namjoon laugh and sulk deeper into the couch. He jokingly scoffed and waved a hand to shoo them away before they disappeared into the crowd.   Jimin didn’t want to think about anything. Everyday was stressful for him and it was utterly exhausting—both mentally and physically. He knew that he desperately needed to focus on school and his jobs, but he couldn’t shake the thought that none of it mattered. That he would never get to dance at Hongik even if he did get accepted into the institute. He knew he had been falling behind in his classes as of late, his exam grades slipping more and more with each passing week, but in this moment, he wanted to forget it all. He wanted to drown in the sea of bodies that flooded the dance floor. He wanted to drown in Hoseok.   “Looks like I get the honor of seeing your fancy footwork in action, huh?” Hoseok teased, pulling on Jimin’s shirtsleeve as he led him towards the center of the dance floor. It was disgustingly hot and sticky, the air smoky and humid under the pulsating lights. Normally the small space would make Jimin feel claustrophobic, but the feeling of his body pressed up against Hoseok’s was tantalizing. Jimin nearly squirmed under the pressure of Hoseok’s chest against his back as he eased into him, his neck tilted to the side so Hoseok’s chin could rest on his small but strong shoulder.   “This is hardly dancing,” Jimin whispered softly. The beat was loud and choppy, but Jimin grinded back against Hoseok’s crotch slowly in circular motions. He could feel Hoseok’s breath on his neck, hot and full of desire. Hoseok searched for Jimin’s hands in the darkness and entwined his fingers within his, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling as they moved freely to the throbbing bass.   Jimin felt nervous about the whole situation. He couldn’t begin to fathom going back to work, having to greet Hoseok in a professional manner and acting like none of this happened. He knew it was wrong, but he was lost—indulging himself entirely in the sweet temptation that was Hoseok. He felt hypnotized by his presence. Perhaps it was the drunkness kicking in—the warm tingling sensation that lingered in his belly as his mind traveled beyond stability—or maybe he actually had feelings for Hoseok. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. He twisted his body around to face Hoseok and kissed him hard on the mouth with absolute urgency. Jimin could feel a small gasp escape his lips as his tongue traveled inside his mouth, licking at his teeth with such hunger that left him wanting more. Hoseok pulled back slightly before diving back in, hands running wildly through Jimin’s soft blonde curls.   When he pulled away, Jimin could see the lust in Hoseok’s eyes, his lids fluttering softly, mouth still parted. He didn’t know what to do next, eyes searching frantically for an escape but to no avail. Jimin wanted to hide, to run away and never have to look at Hoseok again. His assertiveness with the kiss was downright embarrassing and he felt ashamed in his own lust. What if Hoseok didn’t want to be kissed? Was it too forceful? Jimin had a million thoughts running through his mind but couldn’t muster up the courage to speak coherently.   “Hoseok, I… I-I’m suh-sorry, I don’t kn—”   “Shh… sweet Jiminie,” he cooed, grabbing Jimin’s hand once more to lead him off the dance floor. Jimin felt dazed as the club spun around him, but he followed Hoseok quietly. He could feel the mixed drinks kicking in as he stumbled along the floor, tripping on his own feet as he giggled to himself, smiling dumbly. It’s like he had already forgotten why he was embarrassed and that pleased Jimin.   He couldn’t remember how they ended up in one of the stalls in the men’s bathroom, but he didn’t think much of it. He could feel Hoseok wrapping himself around his small frame, hands frantically pushing off layers of Jimin’s clothing. The bathroom itself was dirty, the stalls painted black but coated in a thick layer of gunk that left a filmy residue on Jimin’s back as Hoseok pinned him against the wall. The kisses continued… hard at first, then softer and sweet. Jimin let Hoseok take control this time, his lips littering small kisses along Jimin’s collarbones and up his jaw. The way Hoseok kissed wasn’t controlling or even overtly sexual… but rather pleasant and relaxing.     “Hoseok?” Jimin broke free of the kiss, still leaning against the thin plastic of the stall.   “Hm? Something wrong?” Hoseok asked.   “Sorry if this sounds weird but I… I just wanted to talk for a bit,” he stuttered, his words slurred but still clear enough to understand. Jimin looked at Hoseok innocently and the man slumped down against the tile floor. It was littered with scraps of bath tissue and trash, but he didn’t seem to care. Jimin followed his lead and sat beside him, legs crossed with his hands in his lap.   “It’s not weird, Jimin… are you alright?” Jimin noticed Hoseok’s hand had slipped over into his lap, his fingers fumbling with his own, massaging softly against his knuckles.   “How did you know you’d be okay? With not finishing school and all… how did you tell yourself things would be okay even if they didn’t go as planned?”   “Well… I mean… I didn’t really know,” he spoke softly, barely above a whisper but Jimin was listening intently, eyes fixed on his soft pink lips. “I just kind of accepted it, you know? I was never a good student and I pretty much knew college wasn’t for me. My sister… she’s really smart. She set the bar so high that I knew it would be impossible for me to reach it.”   “You gave up?”   “Not really,” he continued. “I mean, I still tried really fucking hard to live up to my parents’ expectations. It just didn’t happen, I guess.”   “I feel like I can’t live up to my own expectations,” Jimin’s eyes fell to his lap, Hoseok’s hands still cradling his. He heard the feint squeal of the bathroom door open and some inaudible mumbling, feet shuffling around them.   “I wish you wouldn’t talk down to yourself like that,” Hoseok interrupted. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but the way you talk… it, uh… it kinda hurts me, too, you know?”   “Huh?”   “It just reminds me a lot of how I am,” he added. “I used to beat myself up all the time. I had no confidence in myself… hell… I-I wanted to dieat one point in time. I don’t tell anyone that because I’m in a better place now but… it’s just… it’s scary going down that path, Jimin.”   Jimin looked at him and noticed his eyes were puffy, small welts of tears beginning to form on his waterline. Hoseok tried his best to advert his gaze but it was fruitless—Jimin saw the man’s face and pulled him close, his small arms wrapped around his chest tightly.   “You’re my friend, J-Jimin.” Hoseok rubbed a fist gently against his eyes, wiping away the tears delicately. “Whatever happened tonight was nice and all... it’s not like I disliked any of it… b-but I juh-just wanted you to know that I’m here for you whether it’s as a f-fling or whatever… you mean more to me than that.”   “You’re my friend, too, Hoseok,” he smiled, slipping out of the embrace to rub a hand down his back, massaging slowly at the soft white cotton. “I just… the future terrifies me. Namjoon says everyone has these feelings, but it doesn’t feel that way. I’m scared that I won’t be able to do what I love… that I’ll be stuck working some shitty desk job… I-I guess a lot of people fear that, but if I can’t get into the institute then… then I have nothing.”   “Y’know… I’m just gonna say it. Life fucking sucks,” he choked back a tear but Jimin could see he was smiling underneath it, his face beginning to return to its normal warm color. “But we make the best of it. It’s all we can do after all.”   “Yeah, I guess that’s true… b-but Hobi?”   “Hm?”   “Thanks for being my friend.”           Jungkook could see the soft yellow light pouring in from behind the dark curtains that lined his bedroom wall. It must been early afternoon, he thought. He couldn’t hear the birds chirping outside his window but rather the annoying purr of a lawn mower disturbing his slumber. If the groundskeeper was already trimming the grass then Jungkook knew it was at least two in the afternoon. He could feel his lids resisting as he opened his eyes wider, rubbing at the inner corners as he sat up and stretched lazily. His skin was filmy and damp, a thin layer of sweat coating his bare chest. He padded across the room before drawing the curtains back in one fell swoop. The sky was perfectly clear, sun shining directly in his room as he took in its instant warmth.   When Jungkook left Taehyung’s yesterday morning, he was exhausted. Dongwoo had called him in the early hours of the day to remind him of a meeting with his therapist in the afternoon—one of which he reassured Dongwoo that he’d attend—but when he arrived back home, he found himself unable to get off the chaise lounge in the foyer. He felt so drained of energy and perhaps that was Taehyung’s fault, but he couldn’t find the strength to travel back to Gangnam- gu just to talk about his problems. Instead he had Dongwoo bring his therapist to the family home and she set up quickly in his mother’s office.   It was always the same questions over and over. ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘Did you rest well?’ ‘What are you hoping to get out of our discussion today?’   Jungkook was sick of it. He had been attending therapy sessions with Soojung every week since he was fourteen—sometimes multiple times per week if things weren’t going smoothly. His mother initially scheduled his appointments after the incident in hopes that talk therapy would relieve some stress; relieve the blame of what happened that night in Jung-gu. Both his mother and father trusted Soojung tremendously—she helped save their marriage on multiple occasions after his father left on various business trips, abandoning Jungkook and his mother for weeks while he slept with his mistress in Bupyeong-gu. Jungkook was only seven at the time and didn’t quite understand why mommy was crying so much in the bathroom or why daddy wasn’t there to watch his school play, but he caught on soon enough. He hated his father for years and still felt a sting in his chest when he looked at him, but he moved on; there was no point in dwelling on the past. If Soojung could repair his parents’ relationship then they wholeheartedly believed she could repair Jungkook.     “Good afternoon, Mister Jeon,” Soojung would say, her lips pulled together in a tight smile as she rested her favorite yellow pen and paper on her thigh.   “Good afternoon, Soojung.”   “What’s been on your mind today?” she’d ask, her expression blank as ever but Jungkook knew she was listening diligently to his every word. He hated how emotionless she was… how he would talk for hours while she stared. He made her flinch once when describing how he accidentally ran over the neighbor’s cat, but nothing more. In a way he liked how she listened, but then he remembered it was her job and she gets paid to listen—and she wasn’t cheap.   “What I want to eat for dinner,” he’d say.   “What would you like to eat?”   “Taehyung’s cock.”     Jungkook had grown increasingly irritated with the talk sessions as of late. Part of him felt bad for toying with Soojung—it’s not like she’d ever step out of line if he said something salacious or disturbing. She’d give a courteous nod, her dark brown hair swept carefully into a low bun, and jot down whatever he said regardless of its appropriateness. There wasn’t much he particularly enjoyed about therapy, but he appreciated the confidentiality of it; his parents were blissfully unaware of his sporadic and rather sexual relationship with Taehyung and his frequent underage, drunken nights in Mapo-gu. He told everything to Soojung not because he could, but because he had no one else to tell it to.   Not since the incident.     “Would you like breakfast, Mister Jeon?” A voice called from down the hall. Jungkook could hear the sound of pans scraping against each other, water running from the sink in the kitchen. He padded down the long marble hall in his bathrobe and stopped in front of the dining table. A small old woman was doing the dishes while she hummed a sweet song under her breath; she looked up when Jungkook appeared and smiled widely. “I can make you eggs… or if you’d rather have lunch I can do that, too.”   “It’s alright, Hana. I think I’ll settle for some cereal. Thank you,” he nodded and the woman went back to her work. Jungkook knew most of the house staff thought him to be rather bratty, but he kept himself on his best behavior around Hana. She’s been working for the Jeon’s for nearly forty years and felt like a grandmother to him; Jungkook never actually knew his grandmother—she passed years before his birth. His family was small, but he appreciated what he had. Sometimes.   Jungkook grabbed a box from the pantry and waltzed over to one of the leather couches adjacent to the kitchen. The layout of the family home was open and rather spacious—every room was connected in some way and there weren’t many doors besides those to bedrooms and bathrooms. He melted into the sleek brown leather, bare legs sticking to the surface with a soft squeaking noise. Jungkook opened the box of cereal and began eating in handfuls. He didn’t care how he behaved when his parents weren’t home… then again, he didn’t care when they were home either.   “Your father called the landline this morning, Mister Jeon. I answered but he requested that you call him back,” Hana relayed from the other side of the room.   Ah yes, just like he said he would, Jungkook thought. His father never fell through with his promises. Jungkook knew he would call again to discuss whatever options were in store for him regarding school; part of him wanted to ignore every single call and wait until they returned home—whenever that would be—but he knew that would only make things worse for him.   He picked up the landline on the side table and held it between his cheek and shoulder, hands digging in the box of cereal as he munched with his mouth full.   “Jungkook.”His father picked up after a single ring.   “Daddy.”   “Your mother and I talked some things over and we’ve decided on a few options. I’ll let you have your pick.”   Jungkook stared at the ceiling, the white beams staring back at him blandly. He grabbed another handful of cereal and nibbled on it loudly as he wanted for his father to continue.   “Go on.”   “If you refuse to attend your classes, we’ll look into something more… private.”His tone was flat but rather serious. Jungkook could feel the pit in his stomach grow with every word he spoke. “I’m having Dongwoo look into hiring a private tutor. You aren’t that far off from graduating in a timely manner. If we could find someone to ready you for your final exams, we wouldn’t need to waste time with other lessons.”   “And what are the other options?” He asked, uninterested.   “We send you away to complete your schooling elsewhere.”   “That’s it? Really?” He snarled, feeling his temper heighten as his father remained silent on the other end of the line. “So much for having options.”   “You decide, Jungkook.”   Jungkook stared blankly, dumbfounded. It had never occurred to him how easily he can lose control… how all the power he has dwindles in the midst of his father. If he simply ignored what his father decided, he knew they’d follow through with the second option. Even if they were thousands of miles away, they would make it happen. Jungkook was fuming, his hands balled into tight fists against his thighs. How was this a choice at all? He knew how much they wanted him out of their hair… maybe that’s why they went on so many “business” trips in the first place. Was it even really business? The thought of his mother and father indulging in the solitude… the serenity that was a childfree household… it made him explode.   Jungkook threw the handheld device with such force across the room that it hit the wall and shattered to the ground. He could hear Hana gasp from the kitchen, but she dare not interfere when he was angry. He stormed down the hall, flinging his arms and legs in every direction, knocking over various porcelain vases and old family portraits that lined the walls. When he got to his bedroom door, he shoved it open and dove onto the bed face first, body bouncing back from the mattress as he sulked into the silken sheets. An inhuman scream shot from his lungs, the wail piercing through every wall and door of the house as it echoed through the halls. Jungkook didn’t know how long he lay there in silence, face buried into his pillow, before he heard the familiar ring of the landline from his room.   He picked up the phone unenthusiastically, holding it far away from his face as he pressed the ‘talk’ button and spoke once.   “You better hire the best fucking tutor in all of motherfucking Seoul.”             Jimin groaned as he crawled to the kitchen, hands digging through the refrigerator for the water pitcher. He carelessly tossed his head back and let the cool water slide down his throat, lips pressed directly against the glass. He gulped down nearly half of the pitcher when Namjoon walked by and scolded him for drinking so much last night. Jimin’s memory was fuzzy, but he remembered hunkering down in a bathroom stall with Hoseok, reminiscing in laughter and tears as they talked for what seemed like hours; it must’ve been during the early hours of the morning when Namjoon finally found them. Hoseok only managed to get one drink in before whisking Jimin away on the dance floor, but he was drunk on something else entirely—drunk on the moment perhaps. He didn’t want to leave Jimin’s side in the stall but Namjoon grew fussy and rather annoyed when both men looked at him and giggled, completely oblivious to the fact that they left him alone for the entirety of the night. Namjoon wasn’t one to hold grudges, though, and he dismissed it. After all, Jimin looked happy for once. That’s all that mattered, right?   Jimin’s hair was tousled in every direction, the sleek blonde strands standing up on their own as he ran his fingers through his thick locks, haphazardly patting them down in place. Namjoon watched as he licked the corners of his dry lips and tried to shrug off his obvious exhaustion. Jimin forgot how much hangovers sucked. He’d go out with Namjoon but he never let himself get carried away… he knew how much he hated suffering the consequences of a good time. If he hadn’t been so nervous about spending time with Hoseok, he probably wouldn’t have drank anything other than some iced tea and a sip or two of whatever Namjoon ordered.   “Feeling any better?” Namjoon joked, patting Jimin’s back firmly as he swooped in to grab a bag of chips off the countertop. He seemed fine this morning—like all those shots meant nothing—but Jimin knew he was much better at concealing his hangovers, not to mention he could handle his liqueur much better than Jimin. Comes with time and practice, he guessed.   “Uh… well no… but you knew that,” Jimin spoke, his voice rough and broken. “Did Hoseok get home okay?”   “Yeah. He helped bring you home and tuck you into bed,” Namjoon explained as he padded over to the couch before plopping himself on the cushions. “Little baby Chim Chim needed his rest.”   Jimin pouted and rolled his eyes. He nestled in next to Namjoon and turned on the television, his thumb mindlessly flicking through channels before landing on some obscure game show.   “I called him a cab from here. Seems like you guys had a good time,” he continued. “I was kinda pissed you guys ditched me, not gonna lie… but I get it. I get to hog you all the time, might as well share, eh?”   “He told me last night not to worry about coming into the café today,” Jimin said, snatching the bag of chips from Namjoon and squashing a handful in his mouth. “We talked about a lot of shit… I don’t even remember most of it and I feel fucking awful.”   “Nah, don’t worry… Hoseok understands,” he replied. “Speaking of work though… I’ve been thinking.”   “Huh? ‘Bout w-what?” Jimin hiccupped as he attempted to clear his throat. He could still taste the sharp, flowery remnants of alcohol on his tongue. It made his stomach twist in knots and he felt like vomiting on the spot, but he managed to hold it back.   “Back when I was a freshman I was pretty short on cash, too.” Namjoon grabbed his laptop off the end table and set it gently on his legs, flipping up the thin silver screen before booting it up. After a few taps on the track pad the screen illuminated. “I dunno how I didn’t think of it sooner, but I think I have a solution to your money problem. Well… a temporary solution at least… but it’s still something.”   “You gonna tell me or are you gonna keep babbling?” Namjoon slapped his shoulder and his eyes fixated themselves back on the screen, his fingers feverishly tapping away in the search bar.   “You can tutor high school kids for a fuck ton of cash,” he explained as he pulled up Hongik’s community board from the main website. “My advisor gave me the idea back when I was doing pretty bad in my calculus class. He wanted me to do it as a way to practice and brush up on some stuff, but I don’t think he even realized how much you can make.”   “Namjoon-ah… if you think I’m even close to being as smart as you—”   “That’s the thing,” he interrupted. “You don’t need to be smart. When parents are looking for tutors, it’s almost always because their kid is a fuck up and needs some sort of intervention. That, uh… that sounds really messed up to say… but I tutored five kids during my second semester and that was always the case.”   “So what do they expect to get out of it then?” Jimin asked, unsure of the whole situation but he was open to anything at this point—anything to relieve at least a portion of his stress.   “It’s like a placebo, you know? They think they’ll actually get something out of it, but I mean… we all know if the kid doesn’t want to learn then they’re not going to.” He browsed through the forums before landing on the ‘jobs’ section of the website, scrolling briefly before selecting a short but direct ad requesting tutoring services. “Look here—these ads are all over the place. Sometimes people are looking for specifics, sometimes just general stuff. Most of the material I covered was general coursework and college prep, but it really depends.”   “I, uh… I-I guess I could do more than just one subject,” Jimin thought. “But what if it doesn’t work out?”   “What d’you mean?”   “Like… I guess… if I’m not good enough? If I just start pulling stuff out of my ass? They’re gonna notice if their kid doesn’t start improving somehow… right?”   “Nah, Jimin,” he reassured. “They blame their kids for that. We’re talking rich, snooty business people who don’t have the time or patience to actually be parents. Anywhere else, yeah, they’d care… but we’re talking Gangnam-gu. No one has time to care about anything other than the cash in their pockets.”   “So that’s where I’ll look then… Gangnam-gu?”   “I mean, you don’t have to,” Namjoon admitted, selecting another ad—this one much more detailed and descriptive. “But that’s where the money’s at.”   Jimin leaned over, head resting gently on Namjoon’s shoulder as he brushed Namjoon’s hand aside and moved his index finger down the track pad, glossing over the ad before reading it carefully. The formality of it all was a complete turn off to Jimin, but something about it peaked his interest.   Prominent Gangnam-gu family seeking full-time employment of college-level tutor for upcoming high school graduate; university enrollment mandatory, must excel in all basic subjects and be familiar with standard coursework. Prior tutoring experience preferred, but not required. Must be flexible with schedule and willing to work both days and nights depending on family’s itinerary. All expenses paid, housing included. Generous pay. Please attach resumé and send all inquiries to email address listed below.   “Isn’t it a little strange that these people put out ads and not, you know, the other way around?” Jimin grew skeptical as he moved away from the computer screen before rubbing his eyes gently. “All expenses paid? Generous pay? Housing included? They know nothing about me… I could be some fucked up psychopath and they’d let me sleep under the same roof as their kid?”   “I mean obviously they’d want to meet you first, Jimin. Hence the resumé.”   The whole idea was strange to Jimin, completely unfamiliar, but if the pay was as good as Namjoon said it could be then he wasn’t possibly going to give up this opportunity. Part of him felt like he was manipulating these people, that he was selling them a fake service for his own selfish needs, and maybe he was… but he knew he was a good student. He knew that he could at least help a little bit—if the kid even wants the help. Sure, he’d need to tweak his resumé a bit, fluff it up and make himself sound good, but Jimin genuinely believed he could do it. If it truly were a full time position, that meant he wouldn’t need to work two other jobs. It would be bittersweet leaving Hoseok at the café, but he wouldn’t be gone forever, right? He would help the kid graduate and that was that.   Jimin thought about Hongik… about the institute and contemporary dance and nearly everything in between. He thought about how much he wanted it, he needed it, and he made up his mind. He’d give this tutoring thing a shot if it meant he could pay for school; even if it ended up giving him more stress than he previously had, at least he’d be putting that stress to work and pursuing his dream. He was nervous to even apply to the institute, but if he landed this job he could finally commit; he could audition as early as next semester and if all went well, he could be gliding across the glossy stage of Hongik in record time. He turned to Namjoon, the hint of a smile peeking under his lips, and he nodded. What was he getting himself into?   “Alright… well… here goes nothing, I guess,” he shrugged as he typed in the email address and began drafting his response, fingers anxiously rapping on each key with speed and persistence. “Let’s see if Jeon Jungkook truly requires my assistance.” Chapter End Notes I'm so happy that this fic is being so well received, thank you guys for supporting me as I write this (soon to be) mess lol. Apologies if the plot itself is advancing a bit slow in this chapter, I'm really trying to focus on worldbuilding and character development as I feel it's pretty crucial to writing a good fic. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. <3 ***** Chapter 3 ***** Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes “Park Jimin will be here in an hour for the interview, Mister Jeon. Your attendance is not required for the entire duration however your father asked that you be present for the voice call.” Dongwoo’s hands were clasped together as he stood patiently in front of Jungkook, his pressed black suit looking far too formal next to Jungkook who was sporting his favorite white tee and baggy sweatpants. “Miss Soojung will be present as well. Your father believes she is most suited to conduct the interview in his absence. She’s also a superb judge of character, as you already know.”   “I know.” Jungkook picked underneath his fingernails as he sprawled out over the office settee, bare feet dangling over the shallow armrest. “How many interviews has my father scheduled, Dongwoo?”   “We’ve received much interest, presumably because of the Jeon name,” the man explained. “Your father has selected four potential candidates, all of which are currently enrolled in university and possess well-rounded educations.”   “And I get no say, presumably?” Jungkook prodded, flicking a piece of dust off the furniture as he stared at the ceiling with disinterest. Father’s office was rather tacky; Jungkook hated the dark green walls and mahogany furniture, the hideous vintage carpet that smelled like his grandmother’s inherited belongings. The only saving grace was father’s beautiful chair that lived behind his desk. It was beautifully lined with gold rivets and quilted cherry leather detailing. When Jungkook was younger he would sneak into the office just to sit in the chair, his small arms barely spanning the length of the armrests as he spun around on its wheels. It made him feel powerful, like one day he would have his own chair just like daddy’s and he would teach him all about work and how to be a good businessman. That never happened.   “Actually, your father said that you get the final decision in whom we will employ. However, he suggests that you take your decision very seriously,” he grunted and Jungkook could hear a shift in his tone. “We both know what will happen if this does not work out, Mister Jeon.”   “Are they pretty?” Jungkook smirked and could see Dongwoo shifting his weight, the question obviously making him feel uncomfortable. Jungkook bit down on his bottom lip and stared at the man before rolling around on the settee. “You know I won’t accept anything less than pretty.”   “Yes, Mister Jeon.” Dongwoo cleared his throat. “I suppose your father wouldn’t select… visually unappealing candidates.”   “Well that’s rather good news, now isn’t it, Dongwoo? I could use a pretty boy’s help.” Jungkook lifted his hips off the settee and pumped them suggestively, back arched against the soft brown leather. The older man looked unfazed, refusing to break eye contact as he nodded silently and backed out of the doorway. Jungkook could hear the clacking of his dress shoes against the marble floor, the noise growing quieter until it disappeared entirely down the hall. Sometimes he felt bad for messing with Dongwoo… he had been so patient with the Jeon family during the past five years of his employment, but Jungkook felt like he could crack any day now. They always did eventually—he just had to find the right string to pull, the chink in the armor. Father told him countless times to respect his assistants, but that simply wasn’t fun for Jungkook… and these days Jungkook wasn’t having enough fun.   He pulled himself off the settee and headed towards his chamber to freshen up. The black tiled floor of the bathroom felt cool and smooth under Jungkook’s bare feet as he shed each layer of clothing and stepped into the warmth of the shower. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, water trickling down his back as he felt himself melting under the heat; even though Jungkook often had the entire estate to himself, he only truly felt alone and at peace under the water. He could clear his head and think about everything or absolutely nothing at all—and that was okay.   Jungkook tousled his wet hair as he emerged from the shower and hastily wrapped a towel around his waist. He wiped away the condensation on the vanity mirror and examined himself; his lips formed a soft pout as turned about, his body on full display. Jungkook would never let anyone know that he hated himself—he had no reason to, but he simply couldn’t shake the feeling inside. He knew he had his mother’s striking looks, her wide eyes and soft, pretty features. He took great care in keeping up with his appearance, his muscles glistening under the soft yellow light as he removed the towel and rubbed it along his chest. Realistically speaking, there was absolutely nothing wrong with how Jungkook looked—he could get any man or woman that he wanted, and he often did, but that didn’t matter to him all that much. He knew beauty was only skin deep… and his real issues lie beneath the surface. He felt like a failure.   He quickly dried himself off and threw on a crisp blue button down and some dark jeans, the denim pulling tightly around his thighs just the way that he liked it. Casual, but not too casual, he thought. He still had to impress Park Jimin after all.   He would be here within the next fifteen minutes and Jungkook felt a rush of nerves pooling in his stomach. He didn’t know Park Jimin or know why the situation made him so nervous; perhaps it was because he truthfully hadn’t talked to another man in the past month—besides Kim Taehyung of course. Something about socializing with anyone but Taehyung felt weird and unnatural. Jungkook began feeling lightheaded as he padded down the hall and back into his father’s office. He pushed open the large wooden doors and saw Soojung sitting patiently in one of the plush leather chairs, legs crossed with her hands resting gracefully in her lap. She had her hair down, one side tucked behind her ear, and she was dressed in a white dress shirt and slacks, black patent leather heels peeking out from under her pant legs.   “Ah, Mister Jeon,” she looked up and smiled softly. “I’m sure you know I’m here to conduct the interviews over the course of this week. You’re welcome to sit in for the beginning portion if you’d like.”   “Father said I’m requested for the call,” he said bluntly. “What are you going to ask him?”   “Well… typical interview questions, I suppose,” she cleared her throat and picked up a mug off the coffee table before raising it to her lips. “You know this isn’t exactly my forte, but your father insists I’m good at reading people… that to which I don’t disagree. So I’ll ask Park Jimin about his previous experience, his current schoolwork, what he hopes to get out of this opportunity, all of the essentials… but more importantly I want to ensure that he is a good fit for you, Mister Jeon. I personally believe he has the qualifications from looking at his résumé, but there are much greater factors than simply being qualified.”   “You all act like this is such an important matter,” Jungkook said bluntly. Soojung took another sip from her mug and began jotting something down in her notebook. “It’s just a goddamn tutor.”   “While I’m inclined to agree with you, your father stressed the importance of the situation rather bluntly on the phone,” she explained. “Your graduation is very important to your father and he will go to great lengths for you, Mister Jeon.”   “Yet father won’t be here to see me graduate. What a shame.”   “You don’t know that Mister J—”   “Oh, Soojung, I wish you were right. I really do,” he interrupted. “But I know my father and he’s a piece of shit.”   Jungkook heard the office doors open and he spun around to see Dongwoo briefly pop his head in and look at Soojung who shook her head in return as she began collecting her notebook, standing up and readjusting her blouse.   “Park Jimin is here, Mister Jeon and Miss Kim.”   “Thank you, Dongwoo,” she replied sweetly and headed towards the door. “You’re free to do as you wish until the call, Mister Jeon. I’ll be back shortly.”   She shut the doors swiftly behind her and silence filled the room, the soft murmur of voices outside the hall drowned out by the air conditioner humming behind father’s desk. Jungkook stood there for a moment before turning on his heels and exiting the room quietly. He felt sick to his stomach and noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Why was he so damn nervous? It’s not like he had to do anything other than talk to the man and decide whether he liked him enough to employ him… why couldn’t he find the strength to greet him with Soojung, to indulge in meaningless small talk while she did all the work?   He wiped the sweat away with his palm. He needed water. He snuck to the kitchen, purposely averting his gaze from the front door as he heard Soojung walking around the foyer, the loud clacking of her heels against the cool marble floor. Hana was dusting off the cabinets and she looked up briefly to smile at Jungkook; he nodded and tossed back a glass, chugging the liquid with such urgency that it felt like he was going to throw it all back up.   “You’re looking pale, Mister Jeon,” Hana remarked, the soft wrinkles of her skin pulling into a frown as she brushed a lock of silver-black hair out of her face. “Would you like something to eat?”   “I, uh… I’m okay. Thank you, Hana,” he rubbed at the space between his brows and closed his eyes. He could hear the commotion of many voices coming from the foyer and he took that as his cue to leave the kitchen.   He wasn’t even halfway to the foyer when he saw him. He was rather short but well built; Jungkook could see the muscles rippling under his thin sweater, his collarbones peeking out beneath the cream-colored material. His hair was a brilliant golden yellow, his soft curls swept perfectly across his forehead as he watched the man run his small hand through it. As Jungkook came closer he studied his beautiful plump pink lips, the fullness of them almost too much for his small face, but they suited him wonderfully. Jungkook felt his cheeks grow warm as he made eye contact with the man, walking coolly into the foyer in a desperate attempt to keep his composure.   “Ah, Park Jimin,” he smirked with his hands in his jean pockets. He could feel himself trembling as he extended an arm for a handshake. The man looked down at his Jungkook’s veiny hand briefly before reaching out to accept it, his small hand fitting comfortably in Jungkook’s. His grip was anything but strong and something about that made Jungkook tighten up, a rush of chills travelling down his spine.   “It’s n-nice to meet you, Mister Jeon.” Jimin was shy, his voice faint and barely audible as he spoke. He tried his best to maintain eye contact with Jungkook but he could see the man was incredibly uncomfortable. Something about Jimin completely changed Jungkook—he was small and fragile, soft and delicate… like something that desperately needed protection.   “Please call me Jungkook,” he insisted as he circled Jimin, taking in every inch of his body. Jimin stood silently with his hands clasped in front of him, staring awkwardly at the ceiling. He could smell the sweet scent of Jimin’s aroma, light and flowery… he smelled delicious and Jungkook bit down on his lower lip hard.   “Mr. Jeon—ah… Jungkook… your home is lovely,” Jimin commented. Jungkook stepped in front of the man and rested his palm on his shoulder to give it a good squeeze. His skin was so soft… so smooth under his touch. He could see the faintest hint of pink rush to Jimin’s cheeks as his eyes darted to his feet.   “Please, Jimin. Make yourself at home. I truly hope the estate hasn’t intimated you too much,” Jungkook responded, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he turned and began walking towards the living space. Soojung gestured for Jimin to walk after him and she followed behind, notepad held tightly against her chest. Jungkook cocked his head back slightly to see Jimin staring in every direction, his eyes wide as he took in the lavishly decorated home. There was no way he wouldn’tbe intimidated by such wealth, Jungkook thought, but he brushed off the thought. He wanted Jimin to feel comfortable.   “We’ll be meeting in the main office, Mister Park. It’s right down this hall,” Soojung spoke as she trailed behind the man.   Jungkook slipped into the office, holding the door for Jimin as he ducked into the room and seated himself in one of the chairs. His leg bounced anxiously as he looked around the room, the soft pout of his lips was absolutely enticing and Jungkook couldn’t stop staring at them, licking his own in response. Soojung took her place beside Jimin and turned her chair to face him. She looked down at her notepad momentarily and then turned to Jungkook who was gawking at Jimin unabashedly.   “Ahem… Mister Jeon,” Jungkook quickly snapped out of his gaze and turned his attention on Soojung. “Will you be sitting in for this portion of the interview?”   “With all due respect, Soojung,” he spoke flatly and Soojung cocked her head. “I don’t believe your assistance is needed at this moment.”   “W-what?”   “I would like to speak with Park Jimin alone.”   “But… Mister Jeon… your father said—”   “My father isn’t here to weigh in on my decisions. I’ll be sure to tell him you did your part if that’s what you’re so worried about,” he smiled disparagingly. “Please leave us.”   The woman’s mouth hung open in disbelief, her notebook hanging flimsily at her side as she stood up and exchanged glances between Jungkook and the other man. Jungkook crossed his arms as he watched her leave the room, a mix of confusion and hesitance hung on the tip of her tongue. He knew she desperately wanted to say something, but she didn’t dare question Jungkook’s authority. He might be a child to many, but under the Jeon family roof he was in absolute control and no one challenged his reign. He didn’t lie to Soojung when he said he’d tell his father she completed her task—he wasn’t cruel enough to leave her with the repercussions of his selfish desires. He might be careless about many things, but he respected Soojung and her practice; father paid her generously for a reason after all.   Jungkook could feel the heat under his clothing, the fervor bubbling under his skin. Jimin looked puzzled as he twiddled with his thumbs nervously. Jungkook eased onto the settee across the room, kicking his loafers off effortlessly as they fell onto the carpet. He sprawled out comfortably, legs stretched across the plush surface as he cocked up his elbow to support his weight on his side, head rested in his palm.   “I wanted to talk to you, Jimin,” he started, eyes piercing into Jimin’s soft brown pupils as he returned the gaze. “I think you’re special, you see.”   “What makes me special?” He was perplexed, his lips loosening as his mouth hung open slightly, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth. Jungkook moaned under his breath at the sight.   “I think you could help me a great deal,” he purred, picking at his nails unenthusiastically as he continued to speak. Jungkook was just as, if not more, nervous than Jimin but he wouldn’t dare let that show. His pride mattered far too much to show any kind of weakness, any kind of vulnerability. He was the lion—a fierce predator—and he wouldn’t let anyone take his lamb. “My father wants to find me the best tutor in all of Seoul, yes? Do you think you could be my tutor, Jimin?”   “Uh…. yes, J-Jungkook. I think I can,” he stuttered, his beautifully sharp jaw tightening as he gulped nervously. “Your father in-inquired about exam preparation and I believe I am knowledgeable in all of the subjects that will be present on the final exam. I’m currently enrolled in a c-calculus course as well as world history and—”   “That’s so wonderful, Jimin, it really is,” Jungkook interrupted. “I have no doubt your qualifications exceed my expectations. Father will be so pleased.”   “Are you… are you going to interview me, Jungkook? I apologize for being so n- nervous, I just…”   “You’re intimidated by me, aren’t you, Jimin?” He smiled wildly, teeth on full display as he let out a hefty chuckle. Jimin laughed along awkwardly, his pretty little nose scrunched up so cutely. Jungkook could feel himself melting.   “Honestly… yeah, I am,” he admitted. “Your father scared the shit out of me when he responded to my email. I thought I was about to go through some high security clearance just to be able to do this interview.”   “Daddy is… something.” A twinge of annoyance ran through him as he spoke. “He thinks he gets the final say in everything, but not this time.”   Jungkook liked the way Jimin looked when he was listening to him, the way his small head tilted every so slightly at his words. He was listening intently, hanging on every sound that spilled from his lips. Something about talking to Jimin alone in the office made Jungkook feel absolutely unperturbed; like everything outside the room no longer mattered. He barely knew the man for more than thirty minutes yet he felt completely at ease in his presence. It was honestly refreshing to Jungkook—he had only felt this way around Taehyung and even then, his interactions with Taehyung were rarely anything but sexual. He didn’t want to think about his father weighing in on the interview, about the dreaded call he would have to make. He’d have to lie about Soojung, to lie about Jimin if he wanted his father’s approval. But did it really matter? Father said Jungkook had the final say. He had no desire to meet any of the other potential candidates. Something in his stomach was twisting, churning around hotly and making him feel nauseous... he didn’t know why he felt this way or why he couldn’t maintain his composure, but he didn’t need to search that deep for an answer: he wanted Jimin.           The air was thick and stale on Jimin’s tongue, his mouth dry as he chewed on his bottom lip nervously. He didn’t know what to expect from the interview, but it certainly wasn’t this. When he received a personal response from Jeon he wasn’t sure what to think; the man didn’t ask any questions, he simply said ‘thank you’ and provided a time, date, and place the meeting. Even Namjoon thought it rather strange, but he didn’t think much of it—the Jeon’s are a prominent Gangnam-gu family, Miss Jeon being one of the best businesswomen in Seoul and Mister Jeon a powerful attorney and self-made millionaire. Jimin remembered seeing many articles about their recent achievements in Hongik’s local paper, but it never crossed his mind that one day he’d be sitting in their home, sweating profusely in Jeon’s grand office as the heir to their grand fortune made eyes at him across the room.   “I like you, Jimin,” Jungkook stood up and began circling him in the armchair, hand grazing along his shoulders. “I want you to be mine, but you must meet daddy first.”   “Oh, um… yes, the call Miss Soojung mentioned earlier,” Jimin recalled. He could feel Jungkook’s breath on his ear as he moved closer, soft pink lips almost touching his skin. Jungkook looked absolutely wild; his deep brown doe eyes grew sharp and wicked and Jimin could feel the tension in the room rising. Jungkook was pretty, but not in the same was that Jimin was. He was mousey, eyes and nose too big for his small face, and he looked constantly afraid—until he locked eyes on Jimin, of course. He was taken aback by how easily Jungkook’s entire demeanor could change, his innocent, bewildered expression changing to something more primal… raw and full of ungratified hunger. Jimin imagined he inherited that look from his father.   “Daddy will give you the basic run down of everything. I would but I’m much too intrigued,” he breathed and pulled away from Jimin’s neck, probably noting the shivers peeking under his shirt collar. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll call. Just relax… can you do that for me, Jimin?”   Jimin nodded but he wasn’t sure if he could. This was so much more than he thought he was getting into. He felt so incredibly stupid for being so nervous, for trembling on every word that came out of his mouth… but it was impossible not to. He didn’t belong here; he knew he couldn’t possibly live up to this family’s expectations. He was a college student tight on cash, desperately searching for anything to help him get by… they had to have known that, right? Why else would they specifically request someone currently enrolled in university when they could easily get a professional? The entire situation seemed questionable, but Jimin wanted to hear what Jeon wanted to say.   Jungkook fumbled with the landline before pressing a few buttons and putting it on speakerphone. The rings felt like an eternity to Jimin as he fidgeted in his chair; it rang three times before a scratchy noise on the other end indicated that someone picked up. Jimin swallowed hard and stared at the cool black plastic of the receiver. Jungkook’s expression tightened as he concentrated on the desk, refusing to make himself comfortable as he stood by the line with both hands hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.   “Hi daddy,” Jungkook spoke first. “I have Park Jimin with me in the office.”   “Where is Soojung?”   “Is it too much to talk to your own son, daddy? Soojung just loved Park Jimin. I must admit I’m rather fond of him as well.”   The line went silent but Jimin could hear a heavy sigh followed by some papers shuffling. Jungkook tapped his fingers on the desk and waited.   “Let me speak to Park Jimin.”   Jungkook nodded and looked at Jimin before leisurely strolling around the room. Jimin held his breath and sat upright, hands clammy in his lap. His head was pounding, tension throbbing against his temples. He couldn’t fuck this up. Oh, please… please just don’t fuck this up, he thought.   “Hello, sir,” he spoke evenly without a hint of hesitation. “I’ve heard much about you.”   “I’m sure you have, Mister Park. Now tell me, what about this opportunity interests you?”   “Truth be told, sir, I’m currently enrolled at Hongik University—my second year to be exact—and I’ve run into some complications with my expenses and very much need to take on a job that can help ease that burden. Ideally I’d like to study contemporary dance at my university’s institute, however I am well-rounded in all basic subjects and believe I can help your son with whatever he may require.”   “Dance?”   “Yes, sir,” Jimin gulped.   “Teach my son how to dance and you can have all the money you want.”Jimin could hear the man laughing heartily on the other line and something about it startled him; he let out an awkward laugh in return and Jungkook rolled his eyes.   “If that’s what you’d like, then absolutely, sir.”   “Let’s talk the basics,”he began. “As you may or may not already know, Jungkook refuses to attend his classes. After much deliberation, his mother and I have decided to no longer enroll him in public school, however we’d like to prepare him for his final examinations in the spring. That is why you’re here, Park Jimin.”   “Yes, sir.”   “Ideally we would prefer if you stay on the property with Jungkook during this time; we have a fully furnished guest home in the back of the lot, equipped with a full bath, kitchenette, and everything else you may require.   “I understand you may have set living arrangements and prior commitments that you must meet, but we also have commitments to our son’s well-being. I trust you understand our dilemma.”   “I do, sir, and it’s indeed a great commitment to your family that I must think over carefully.”   “Please do, Park Jimin,” The flat tone in his voice returned and Jimin wondered if he was making the right decision. Living on the Jeon family property meant leaving Namjoon at their apartment, and even leaving Hoseok at the café. Jimin didn’t want to think about it too much or he’d get emotional. He hated change, but he knew it was necessary. “I’d like to discuss pay with you. You will be given a fixed rate each week while you’re here. Under the table. How does two million won sound? Fair?”   “Sir… that… that would be... I-I don’t know if I can accept that kind of money.”   “Please don’t flatter me, Park Jimin.”He changed the subject. “Now… I trust you to work diligently if you choose to accept this position. Jungkook’s mother and I are very busy people and will be in and out of the country for the next few months. Everything you need is at your fingertips on the property. I will give you my personal cell as well as my wife’s—call only if absolutely necessary.   “I’ve talked with the school and Jungkook’s first practice exam is in six weeks. I’ll check up before then to ensure everything is running smoothly. I’m having Dongwoo send over a practice guide that covers all the material needed—it should be enough. You can start next week. Monday. Do I make myself clear, Park Jimin?”   “Yes. Absolutely, sir,” he blinked, unsure what else to say. He was in absolute awe, completely dumbfounded at the fact that this position was practically handed to him. Was it really all because Jungkook liked him? Because he told his daddy he was rather fond of him? It didn’t make sense, but the money was too good to pass up. Two million won a week was unreal—it meant Jimin could not only pay off his expenses, but he would have more to spare. He could apply for the institute in as little as three weeks if he prepared himself properly. He really should think it over, but Jeon required an answer now. He couldn’t show any hint of reluctance or he feared the whole deal would be off. He had to do it.   “Do you have an answer for me, Park Jimin? Will you be accepting this offer?”   “It would be a pleasure, sir.”           “Two… fucking… million… won?”   “Each week.”   “That’s fucking insane, Jimin. Holy shit.” Namjoon’s mouth hung open wide. He had to physically shut his jaw with his hand to stop from gawking at Jimin, completely stunned by his words. Jimin asked him to meet at a diner in Hongdae, one of his favorites on the block. When he left the Jeon estate it was mid- afternoon; something about the way Jungkook stared at his every move made him feel like he made a mistake by leaving so quickly after the phone call, but Jimin desperately had to get out. He felt like he couldn’t breathe in that moment, the pressure of the whole situation swallowing him up whole. Jungkook listened to the entire call and waited patiently until Jeon finished speaking to turn the phone off speaker and scurry out of the room with it, excusing himself with the slight hint of a grin on his face.   Jimin assumed he was finalizing the deal with his father. He could hear the feint mumbling of Jungkook’s voice echoing through the hall, but he didn’t try to eavesdrop. He sat in the armchair as nervous as ever, but now with anticipation pooling under his fingertips. Everything was a blur—a surreal, complex blur.   Jungkook returned after what seemed like an eternity. He looked serious, but Jimin could tell he was satisfied—the way he strutted over to Jimin and ran a hand delicately down his arm was enough to make him blush violently. Jungkook informed him that he needed to make a few more calls, but that Jimin was free to leave. Something about the way he lingered on his words made Jimin feel like he wasn’t actually supposed to leave… but he promised Jungkook he would return the following day to discuss moving forward with his employment.   “So you’re gonna leave me at the apartment, eh? Well, that sucks.” Namjoon picked at the bits of pancake left on his plate before stuffing his mouth full.   “It won’t be forever, Namjoon-ah, you know that.”   “Is Park Jimin… br-breaking up with me?” Namjoon faked a tear or two, his voice cracking under his imitated despair. Jimin balled up his napkin and threw it from across the booth as Namjoon let out a whiney, excessive cry. “How ever will I go on?”   “Shut up before I throw my bacon at you,” Jimin grumbled.   “Mmmm, please do! Gimme, gimme,” he snapped his teeth together and ran his tongue across his lips before making a grotesque slurping sound. Jimin rolled his eyes and continued eating.   “They have a guest house they want me to stay in. It’s kind of weird but it’s not like I’m living in their actual house… so I guess it’s okay,” he spoke. “I can still pay for the apartment each month. I know this is sudden and I wouldn’t force you to find a roommate in the middle of the semester.”   “I mean, shit, you can afford it now, Jimin. If that’s all right with you, I’m down. But oh, the loneliness… it kills me…” he clutched a hand over his chest and squeezed the fabric under his fingers.   “Don’t be too devastated that you have the whole place to yourself to bring noonas over. I know it’s a hard fate to accept.”   “How can I even think about noonas when all I can think about is you?” Jimin shot him one final glare and Namjoon put up his hands in defeat. He called over the waitress and ordered two cups of coffee. Just the sight of coffee disgusted Jimin, but he appreciated the kind gesture from Namjoon. Working at the café made him hate a lot of things, but handing coffee all day was by far the worst—it would probably be the one thing he wouldn’t miss about working with Hoseok every morning.   “We can go 50/50 on rent now. I always felt bad that you paid most of it… at least I can actually help with expenses now. I still feel bad.”   “Nah, don’t worry about it,” Namjoon shook his head. The waitress came back with two steaming mugs and placed them on the table. Namjoon took a sip while Jimin stared at his cup… maybe if he put in enough creamer it would be tolerable. “So what else did they say? How’s the kid?”   “Well… he’s, uh… he’s alright,” Jimin admitted.   “Oh shit, he’s a total brat, isn’t he? I knew it.”   “No, I mean, yeah b-but… he likes me. I think he’ll go easy on me,” Jimin could hear his voice cracking slightly as he felt the warmth rush to his cheeks. His stomach was twisting; something couldn’t settle… maybe he ate too many eggs. “He has major daddy issues, Namjoon. I think he tries to act intimidating to hide it, but it’s there.”   “That type is so predictable. Daddy’s money can’t solve all the problems, eh? I dealt with one of those before. They’ve been fucked since the start, there’s no fixing them.” He noticed Jimin hadn’t touched his mug and shook his head. “Shit, I forgot you hate coffee. Sorry.”   Jimin didn’t want to think Jungkook was that type. Sure, he had obvious issues… but who was he to judge? Jungkook was the reason he even had this job—he liked him enough to want him around. Obviously there’s some good in him, right? He didn’t know anything about the boy, but he knew he needed help in more ways than one; the money might be the driving factor in Jimin’s employment to the Jeon’s, but he looked at Jungkook like a lost puppy. He took pity on him.   “I think I can help him,” he explained. “Our families might be completely different but he doesn’t have anyone there for him, Namjoon. He doesn’t have a family to support him. I think that’s why they wanted a tutor in the first place… it’s not like they even cared if I had the qualifications. I tried mentioning it and they totally brushed it off.”   “That’s… odd, but I believe in you, brother,” he replied. “Do what you gotta do.”   Jimin wasn’t going to mention the giddiness he felt around Jungkook. The mix of nerves and euphoria that swirled around in his belly whenever he drew near, soft round lips breathing on his neck with such intimacy. The way a simple touch made him bite his lip, muscles tensing under his skin, grip tightening as he squeezed his hands into small sweaty fists in his lap. No, he wasn’t going to tell Namjoon that he had an innocent fascination with the boy. He knew he had to keep it professional.   The waitress came around to clear their plates as Jimin heard his phone vibrating in his back pocket. He shuffled a bit to access it, his expression changing suddenly as he held up the device. Namjoon hunched forward curiously. Someone was calling him. He thumbed over the screen and pressed a button, the device cupped against his ear.   “Jungkook?” Chapter End Notes I feel like this chapter was kind of uneventful(??) so I apologize... or maybe it's fine and I'm too hard on myself lol either way enjoy!! ***** Chapter 4 ***** Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes Something hung on Jungkook’s shoulders, pushing deep on his spine. It was a weight he couldn’t get off, a burden left restless and unamused. He felt it since the interview—since meeting Park Jimin. Nothing that night with Taehyung felt right anymore. His touch unsatisfying… the way he pulled at his soft brown locks, the way he licked up his belly towards his lips, tongue swirling across his nipples as he moaned absentmindedly. It all felt foreign to Jungkook, and it simply wasn’t enough.   He hated feeling this way. Feeling like something was wrong.   His mind wasn’t in the right place but he couldn’t escape it. He felt his stomach twisting in knots as he pushed off Taehyung and shot to the bathroom, face buried in the toilet bowl as he vomited profusely. Taehyung trailed behind, standing in the doorway with a blanket pulled over his bare shoulders. Jungkook didn’t look at him; he leaned against the bathtub staring at the wall ahead.   “Kookie… do you need some water? Are you okay?”   “I’m fine,” he mumbled inaudibly, eyes vacant and glassy. He was certain Taehyung could see the tears pooling at the corners, but he wouldn’t say anything. Jungkook hated people seeing him vulnerable, but Taehyung has on many occasions. He’s learned not to interfere when he’s emotional… for the most part.   “I think you should come lay down, let me rub your back for you.”   “I said I’m fine,” he growled, jaw clenched as he ran both hands up to his head and buried his face in them. He wanted Taehyung to go away. The boy looked down at his feet and wrapped the blanket around tighter as he went back to bed. Jungkook could hear the sound of the television humming. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.   He knew Taehyung would take it personally. He always did. Jungkook couldn’t control how he felt—it was hit or miss each day. Sometimes he would show up to Taehyung’s giddy and ready to pounce, his body as reckless as his mind as he devoured the boy whole. Other days it would be different; he couldn’t look him in the eye, couldn’t touch him how he wanted to be touched. He was nervous, shy, and angry all at once. He was distant; his voice hollow as he would turn away from Taehyung and fall asleep with nothing more than a ‘goodnight.’ He knew it hurt him, but he couldn’t gather the strength to apologize. His pride was far too important to stoop to that level. Show no weakness, daddy would say. Lions didn’t apologize to lambs.       Jungkook met Taehyung about a year ago in the heart of Gangnam-gu. One of his father’s business partners owned a bar across from Gangnam Station and invited the Jeon’s to the grand opening; initially Jungkook was skeptical to attend as he despised most social gatherings, but he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity for free booze. Being underage isn’t an issue when you’re a Jeon, that much was certain. Taehyung was working the bar when Jungkook spotted him; his skin the color of toasted almonds against his pressed white shirt, perfectly delicious in every way. He looked nervous as he fumbled with their glasses, pouring a multitude of liquids into each flute. Jungkook liked the way he licked the corner of his lip when he was focused, the small mole on his bottom lip peeking out under the dim light. He watched him work out of the corner of his eye as he took a swig of his drink, pretending to be interested in whatever story his father was telling for the hundredth time. Daddy loved to tell stories, especially exaggerated ones. It bored Jungkook to death.   He didn’t know what made him walk over to the bar, but before he knew it he was hunched over the counter, elbows resting on the smooth wood as he propped his chin up in his palm. They made brief eye contact before the boy’s eyes darted away and Jungkook smirked. He turned his back to him as he continued to work on another drink and Jungkook began tapping his fingers impatiently.   “You must get tired of making so many of those,” he said, coolly. “That one is especially disgusting.”   “Ha… you think so?” The boy poured the liquid into a large tin cocktail shaker and tossed it around, ice and vodka sloshing violently inside. “Not a fan of this one myself. The passion fruit’s too strong for my liking. More of a cranberry kinda guy.”   Before Taehyung could place the drink on a coaster Jungkook reached out, fingers clasping over Taehyung’s hand as he swiped the drink off the table and finished it off in one gulp, his lips puckering at the sour taste.   “I can think of things that taste muchbetter.”   “That… wasn’t yours,” Taehyung frowned. Jungkook licked his lips and purred quietly. The boy went back to making another drink when Jungkook snuck back around to his father’s table, mumbling something indiscreet to one of his business partners. The man grunted and flagged down a waitress before whispering something in her ear; she nodded and quickly disappeared into the kitchen. Jungkook saw Taehyung taking off his apron and walking out from the bar.   “You really paid for my shift to end early?” He said in disbelief, head cocked to the side, hands resting on his slim hips. “Who the fuck are you anyway?”   “I’m a very needy man,” Jungkook said nipping at his bottom lip as he studied the boy, taking in every inch of his soft features. “I see something I like, I take it.”   He didn’t know how they ended up in the back of the Jeon family range rover, their naked limbs tangled on the smooth black leather. It was dark in the private alley, the shadows of the tall brick buildings perfectly masking their indecency. The windows were dewy and the musk of sweat filled the air, thick condensation forming on the cool glass of the vehicle as it rocked back and forth rhythmically.   “What’s your name, pretty boy?”Jungkook growled as he flipped the boy over on the backseat, hands kneading into his thighs as he spread them apart urgently. He bent down and licked at the bare skin, tongue lapping sloppily over the tip of his erection. Taehyung whimpered at the touch, arching his back as he fed more of himself into Jungkook’s wet mouth.   “Tuh-Taehyung… K-Kim Taehyung…”   Jungkook raised himself up to meet the boy’s mouth, tongue swirling around Taehyung’s as he sucked hard at his plump red lips. Taehyung groaned in frustration as he bit down on Jungkook, teeth sinking forcefully into his bottom lip as he broke the skin. A small trickle of blood fell down Jungkook’s chin and he could feel Taehyung groaning to lick it up. Without hesitation Jungkook slid himself down on Taehyung, carefully lining himself up before forcing his entire length into the boy. A breathless gasp escaped his lips as Jungkook bucked forward and closed the space between them.   Jungkook could feel Taehyung under him, the boy’s soft skin as clear and fragile as a baby’s as he gripped his bare hips and thrust vigorously. The boy screamed, a guttural moan escaping his wet lips as he gripped the headrest behind him tightly, nails digging into the rich material. Jungkook kept up with the rhythm as he nuzzled himself into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, his breath hot as he licked every inch of bare skin. He could see the pain in Taehyung’s eyes when he pushed in deeper, his lids fluttering as he rolled his head back and tensed his muscles. Jungkook wanted it to hurt, wanted him to feel what it was like to be submissive to him, to worship him.       But he didn’t feel that way anymore. Not today at least.   Jungkook’s relationship with Taehyung wasn’t anything special, but it made him feel special. He liked staying at his apartment, burying himself under the scratchy blankets on his mattress as he flicked through the television and leisurely drank cheap canned beer. It made him feel comfortable… almost normal.   It was his sweet escape—his little piece of happiness that he could drown himself in when the world got too heavy to bear. He hated how much he relied on Taehyung for release. He knew he let their relationship get carried away; a casual fuck turned into a safety net. Jungkook was far too gone to escape now… he was addicted, but no longer satisfied. He wanted more. He needed it.   When he reached into his pocket, he found himself searching for Jimin’s number in his phone. Without hesitation he thumbed over the screen and dialed. He sat in silence, body sulking on the tile floor as he listened mindlessly to the rings.   “Jungkook?”   He held his breath.   “Are you alright? Do you need something?”   Jimin’s voice was raspy on the other end, rushed. Jungkook didn’t need to see him to visualize his pretty mouth opening and closing with every word—the way his whole face scrunched up when he smiled, his pink cheeks full and soft over his sharp jawline. God, he was so pretty.   “Park Jimin,” he spoke, desperately trying to keep his composure. He wanted to burst into tears on the spot, he wanted to confide in Jimin and tell him everything. Jungkook knew that was foolish—he just met the boy earlier that day. He would undoubtedly scare him off in a matter of minutes if he didn’t stay calm and collected. Why couldn’t he fucking control himself around Jimin?   “Daddy requested that you return to the estate tonight,” he lied, wondering if Jimin could hear his voice beginning to tremble. “There’s some very important paperwork that I must’ve forgotten to have you fill out.”   “Uh… Jungkook… c-can it wait ‘til tomorrow? It’s already ten and I, uh… I don’t know, isn’t it kind of late for that?”   “No, no!” He blurted out. “I mean—it simply cannot wait.”   “Shit, uh… yeah,” He could hear Jimin thinking. The way he lingered on his words captivated Jungkook; his sleepy voice sounding so light and sweet. “I guess I can get a ride over there. It might take me a while—hang tight, okay?”   “Of course,” he spoke evenly. He felt sick again. It was a different kind of sick—the same kind from earlier in the day. He groaned and clenched his stomach.   “You sure you’re okay?”   Jungkook’s chest fluttered, his heartbeat uneven as he bit down on his lower lip.   “Yes, Jimin. Thank you,” he spoke softly.   Jungkook set the phone down near the sink and pulled himself off the ground. A rush of blood went straight to his head and his vision went fuzzy, nausea setting in quickly. He rubbed a finger over his temples as he padded quietly to the bedroom. It was dark and the television was off. Taehyung probably went to bed, he thought.   Jungkook slipped on his shoes, careful not to wake the boy as he rolled over in bed. He searched for his jacket blindly in the room, hands running over every surface until he found it strewn on Taehyung’s desk. He didn’t know whether he should write a note or just leave—he didn’t know if Taehyung cared enough to know. It’s not like they were exclusive; Jungkook belonged to no one. They never truly established what they were to each other… the rules remained unwritten.   He peeked around the corner and headed for the door when Taehyung groaned and sat up in bed, blanket strewn across the lower half of his naked body.   “You’re not staying tonight?” He asked shyly. Jungkook couldn’t see anything but his shadow, his silhouette against the moonlight that shone through the window behind him.   “No, hyung,” he responded downheartedly. He truly felt bad saying it to Taehyung; the boy never did anything wrong. He knew he enjoyed Jungkook’s company just as much as Jungkook enjoyed Taehyung’s, but Jungkook couldn’t explain how he was feeling right now. Every time he tried he simply couldn’t find the words.   He gave up trying long ago, sweeping his issues under the rug when he needed to. His father told him many times when he was young that personal problems came second to business—profit was the number one priority and anything else could be managed later on. When Jungkook would come home crying because the older kids at school were mean to him, father would say ‘you will own them one day, but not with a weak mind.’ Things were never emotional in the Jeon household—if you had a problem, you left it at the door. Jungkook found himself bottling up all his problems, tucking them away in his closet, leaving them to rot in the back of his mind. They never truly went away… he was now beginning to understand that. The reality hit him slowly, then came crashing down all at once.   “Please be safe. Let me know when you get home, okay?” Taehyung walked to meet him at the front door, hand gripped on the handle as he nuzzled his face sleepily into Jungkook’s neck and met his lips for a soft kiss. He was so warm and Jungkook wanted to keep kissing him but he pulled away and ran a hand through Taehyung’s smooth brown hair, his palm resting on his cheek. He promised the boy he’d be back tomorrow sometime in the afternoon.   “You never do anything wrong, Tae. Just know that. I’m fucked up.”   “We all are, babe.” Jungkook could see his warm brown eyes; his long lashes fluttering in the sliver of moonlight. “I know I’m no help. Just try to help yourself. Do it for you and no one else, Kookie.”   Jungkook gave one final nod and left the apartment with mixed feelings. Dongwoo was parked in a black town car in front of the complex. Jungkook slipped in the backseat and didn’t speak; the man drove on as he gazed out the window, breath sticky against the glass. He thought about Taehyung, about Jimin… how he always needed someone else to fix him. He craved the touch, the warmth of another body against his—the soft murmurs of a voice to drown out his own emotions, to temporarily numb him of the pain infecting his mind.   The car pulled up around the circular driveway as Jungkook exited the vehicle. It was dark on the property but well lit around the home, the soft yellow light illuminating the manicured lawn and small brick path that led to the front door. He saw Jimin sitting awkwardly on the front steps, his small body hunched over with his arms wrapped around his chest. His pretty blonde hair looked vibrant and golden under the porch light and Jungkook couldn’t stop staring at him as he approached; Jimin looked up with a slight frown on his lips—Jungkook could see the hint of concern in his eyes.   “Hey. I had Namj—uh, my friend, drop me off as fast as he could.”   “I told you it was paperwork. You didn’t have to rush,” Jungkook snapped and instantly regretted it. He could see Jimin flinch at his words, the venom on his tongue taking the boy off guard. For a moment Jungkook forgot that he wasn’t dealing with one of father’s employees. His face dropped down to his feet and he sighed heavily. “Fuck… I’m sorry.”   “I had a feeling it wasn’t paperwork.” Jimin spoke nervously, fully understanding that Jungkook needed him there regardless of the reason. Jungkook felt embarrassed that he caught onto his lie so quickly, but he shrugged it off. He unlocked the front door and held it open for Jimin, the boy stepping in quietly before gawking at the foyer in the same way he did earlier in the day. Jungkook caught himself grinning at the sight but quickly returned to his sullen state. He gestured for Jimin to follow him into the kitchen; nearly all the lights in the house were off with the exception of those above the bar seats in the dining area. Jungkook flicked on an overhead light in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator before revealing a soft pink liquid.   “You drink?” He asked as he reached above to pull out two bowl-shaped glasses, unscrewing the cork on the bottle and delicately pouring the liquid into one glass. Jimin settled in one of the bar stools and gave a small nod.   “Occasionally,” he spoke. His rested his hands on the countertop, small fingers barely visible under the massive sleeves of his thick gray sweater. He looked cozy. “Mostly just with friends out in Hongdae on the weekends.”   “Cheers to friends,” Jungkook smirked and raised a glass before sliding it over to Jimin. He poured the liquid into his own, swirling it around gently before raising it to his lips and taking a sip. It tasted sweet like roses and honey, the flavor light on his tongue. He wondered if Jimin knew how he felt… if it were too soon to even be feeling this way. He didn’t know anything about the boy and perhaps he’s mistaking his own selfish lust for real emotions. He wanted Jimin badly, but he wouldn’t dare let it show. He would be naïve to give in so easily to his own feelings.   “So you’re home alone a lot it seems…” Jimin pondered, eyes surveying the room as he took a sip from his glass, tongue gliding over his lips. “Are you lonely?”   “Yeah,” Jungkook admitted. He was lonely. He rested his elbows on the counter, body hunched over to get closer to Jimin.   “What do you do?” He asked curiously.   “Nothing,” Jungkook answered bluntly. He could taste the bitterness on his lips, the sting of the words; he resented it everyday, but he wouldn’t admit that to Jimin. Not yet. “I’ve been to Hongdae a few times on the weekends. Strange how I haven’t seen you before.”   “I, uh… I don’t go to the clubs often. I work a lot… and study.” He looked down at his glass and swirled it around. “Don’t really have time to relax, you know?”   “I don’t know, actually.” Jungkook’s voice was stern but Jimin could tell he wasn’t angry. His jaw tightened a bit as his eyes glassed over, his gaze piercing through Jimin as the boy cocked his head to the side in a puzzled manner. “I’m fucking locked up in here, Jimin. Everyday I wake up and instantly regret it… I don’t know what to do most of the time. Should I blow daddy’s money at the galleria just to spite him, maybe drink myself into oblivion just to numb the fact that I’m alone? I choose both most days—a deadly combination if I do say so myself.”   “That’s… Jesus, Jungkook…” He looked down at Jungkook’s hands gripped tightly around the base of his glass. He was sure it would shatter within his grasp any minute now.   “Welcome to my life, Jimin—and you’re here to fix it all, right? Daddy promised me the best tutor in Seoul after all.”   “Tutors and life coaches are two completely different things, Jungkook,” Jimin giggled, that pretty little eye smile of his in full bloom. Jungkook released his tension and laughed in response, both of the boys tossing back their glasses as their voices echoed through the empty halls. Something about the silence relaxed Jungkook… hearing Jimin’s raspy voice in the quiet of the night made his chest flutter. All he could think about was the soft murmurs of Jimin rocking him to sleep in his arms… it was nice… so nice…   “Jungkook?”   “Huh?” He snapped back, shaking out of his daze.   “You were just… staring at me.” Jimin took it upon himself to pour out two more glasses, the sweet aroma of the liquid filling the room. “What am I really here for?”       “What are you really here for, Jungkook?”   “I-I don’t know…”   “Yes you do. Tell me.”   “I… hurt…”   “What did you hurt?”   “I hurt… someone… t-the lights… nuh-no… stop… p-please stop.”   “What do you see?”   “L-laying there… so dark…”   “Deep breaths. Relax… don’t tense up like that… close your eyes. You don’t have to think of that moment. You can think about anything you’d like. Open them when you’re ready. Talk to me.”   “I see mommy holding me.”   “Where are you?”   “She’s holding my arms, spinning me in circles around the flowers. It’s so yellow—the field—pretty just like she is. I’m happy… she’s smiling… her hair is down. She never wears it down anymore.”   “Why doesn’t she wear it down?”   “Mommy’s busy… she leaves me. Leaves with daddy to run away… they don’t like me.”   “What happened to make you feel that way?”   “I… I heard them. When I… when it happened… I heard them say it.”   “What did they say?”   “I’m the reason they can’t be happy… the… the accident was m-my fault. It suh- should’ve… been… me.”       “Hey—Jungkook… hello… Jung—”   “What?” His eyes darted around the room in bewilderment, his palms clammy against the cool marble countertop. He was sweating profusely, the hairs of the back of his neck standing up as he shook his head a few times and released himself from his trance. Jimin gave him a perplexed look as his hand reached out for Jungkook’s on the table. Chills shot down his spine as the boy locked fingers with his and gave a soft squeeze. Jungkook stared at their hands and didn’t speak. He could feel the warmth of Jimin running up his wrist and into his arm, the sweet sensation flooding his body. Jimin smiled sweetly, rubbing his thumb over Jungkook’s soft skin.   “I-I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to upset you.” Jungkook noticed Jimin watching his lips as he rubbed his free hand across his dry mouth. He wondered if Jimin craved his touch, if he craved the taste of his mouth on top of his. “You know, let’s forget that shit. It doesn’t matter. I want to know what you want right now.”   You,his mind was screaming.   “Come. Bring the wine… let’s sit out back.”   Jungkook pushed open the french doors and stepped out onto the veranda, the wood flooring damp against his bare feet as he padded over to one of the cream- colored daybeds that lined the deck. He pushed the curtains aside and lay along the soft padded fabric of the bed, hands resting behind his head as he closed his eyes and breathed in the thick, wet air of the night. Jimin followed closely, his fingers wrapped around two bottles of the pink wine and the glasses nestled in his elbow. He sat the bottles down and joined Jungkook on the bed, body resting on its side so he could face Jungkook.   The night was absolutely breathtaking; it was one of the few things Jungkook loved about the property. The beautiful scenery stretched far beyond the developed acres and went on for miles, completely untouched by human hands. He loved having the serenity of the country and the busyness of the city in one place—the Jeon estate rest directly outside of Gangnam-gu in a large but quaint gated community that preserved most of the area’s greenery. Jungkook always wanted to have his own apartment in Gangnam-gu, but he couldn’t pull himself away from home long enough to really consider leaving the countryside… something about it always drew him back in; the way every single star shone brilliantly under the sky, the fresh, brisk air filling his lungs with every breath, the hum of the crickets hiding beneath the morning dew that blanketed the soil. He simply couldn’t get enough of it.   “This is my favorite place.” He remarked softly.   “It’s beautiful,” Jimin noted as he twisted his body to grab his glass off the side table. He asked if Jungkook wanted another and he nodded silently. The sharp clink of their glasses left a bothersome ring in Jungkook’s ear, but he shrugged it off as he took a sip of the pink wine and looked at Jimin. His skin was pearlescent under the moonlight, every pore beautifully showcased against the dark of the night. Jungkook’s eyes traced along his jaw and lingered on his lips again... how badly he wanted to taste them.   “Don’t feel sorry for me, Jimin. I don’t want pity,” Jungkook said as he gazed at the sky. “I do this shit to myself. You’re here because I pissed off my parents and they’re retaliating. I do it because it’s the only way to get their attention.”   “You ever tried talking to them? Like in person?”   “Ha…” Jungkook breathed. “If only it were that easy.”   “My parents weren’t around much when I was younger,” Jimin consoled, his lips parting to take another sip from his glass. “Most days I had to feed myself and my younger brother, sometimes tuck him into bed because they’d be working through the night just to pay for our shitty apartment.   “When I was sixteen I started working myself,” he continued. “I couldn’t afford a car so I’d walk to the restaurant I bussed tables at—a ten mile walk back and forth. My legs felt like giving out by the time I got there every morning.   “My paychecks went straight to my parents; it helped pay the electric bill, helped put food on the table,” Jungkook noticed the small welts around eyes, his face hollow and stripped of emotion. He blinked back a stray tear and wiped away the rest with his sleeve. “Looking back it sounds like hell, but it wasn’t bad—at least back then it didn’t seem that bad… I helped as much as I could… but then one day it wasn’t enough.”   “What happened?” Jungkook instantly shot back. A forced smile peeked on the small boy’s lips but it felt pained and wrong. Jungkook watched as the boy wiped away another tear and attempted to calm himself, brushing off the emotion briefly before returning to his sullen state.   “They took me away… my brother and I…” His voice was barely above a whisper, throat raw and swollen from his sinuses. “We lived with my grandparents for a few years. I didn’t hear from my parents for a while… until one day we got a call. Mom got into an accident on the way home from work.”   Jungkook stiffened, an uncomfortable chill stabbing into his spine as he stared ahead blankly.   “She was rushed to the hospital, but it… it was too late,” Jimin blinked. “I didn’t get to see her… I… I hadn’t seen her since we moved.”   “I-I’m so sorry, Jimin.”   “S’okay,” He flashed a weak smile, eyes glistening under the pale moonlight as he sighed and rolled his head back, limbs stretched out daintily on the bed. “It’s still hard sometimes… but I… I guess I just wanted to let you know that we aren’t that different, you know?”   “You lost your family. Mine are cowards,” he said bluntly. “We are worlds apart, Jimin.”   The words stung on his lips but Jungkook couldn’t hold it back. He couldn’t imagine what it would like to be alone… to be truly alone. His stomach clenched hard as if he just endured a heavy blow to his abdomen, his chest tightening as he found himself holding back tears of his own. He wasn’t going to break this easily.   But the way Jimin looked at him made him weak. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this sensation... likely around that night with Taehyung, but nowhere near the intensity of it now. He was seized by the moment, his lips parted as he breathed ceaselessly in short, panicky bursts. He was enveloped in fear, sadness, lust, and greed… swallowed up entirely by his own mind as he stared at Jimin with such heat that it left the boy speechless, his own neck beginning to sweat with nerves. He didn’t know whether Jimin was afraid or curious… or both. The mix of emotions spiraled uncontrollably, blending into a muddled mess that left Jungkook’s head throbbing.   “I need you, Jimin,” the words slipped out before Jungkook could bite his tongue. “You need me, too.”   Jungkook wasn’t going to fully confide in him—not yet. It was already hard enough for him to accept his demons… his monsters carefully secluded behind the closet door, their whimpers consuming his mind, haunting him. He had to keep up the façade as long as he could—had to keep Jimin believing that he was everything a Jeon should be. He looked to Jimin for reassurance… the boy’s cheeks flushing red at his gaze.   The veranda fell silent, a heavy silence that left both boys hesitant to speak. Jungkook watched as Jimin opened his mouth but couldn’t form words… his brows furrowed in frustration, a perplexed look on his face. Jungkook nudged himself closer to Jimin and he could feel the heat of the boy’s small body radiating under his sweater. The tension between them was deadly and Jungkook knew it.   “You know, I told daddy I wanted you,” he continued, shoulder shyly brushing up against Jimin’s arm, a hint of reluctance holding him back from moving in closer. “Had him cancel the rest of the interviews, send Soojung home for the evening.”   “I must be that exceptional, eh?” Jimin laughed, his cute little voice growing raspy.   “I think you are.”   “With all due respect, Mister Jeon, you don’t know me,” he wagged a finger at him teasingly and Jungkook had half a mind to nibble on it right then and there. “Much like how I know absolutely nothing about you.”   “So it’s story time then?” He raised an eyebrow at the boy who bobbed up and down on the bed, hands clasped together eagerly as his eyes grew large with anticipation. Oh, he was such a tease… Jungkook’s hands dug into the fabric hard as he watched Jimin’s bottom bounce effortlessly on the daybed, body jerking with such fluid motions. “Alright. What would you like to know?”   “What’s your favorite color?”   “Really?”   “I demand an answer, Mister Jeon,” Jimin stuck his tongue out. Jungkook couldn’t take much more of this. He was doing it on purpose.   “Black, white, and red,” he spat jokingly in annoyance.   “What kind of answer is that?”   “What do you mean?” Jungkook said defensively, arms curled around his chest.   “You’re indecisive, aren’t you?” Jungkook watched the boy ease closer, inch by inch… every small movement feeling like a mile. His heart was beating rapidly, each thump growing heavier in his chest. “Mister Jeon can’t pick a favorite color, but he can pick a life coach without a lick of hesitation.”   “Didn’t you say you’re not my life coach?”   “I think I want to be.”   Jungkook could feel the wine settling in his belly, the warmth of the alcohol fizzing in his chest, his body hot under its spell. He wondered if Jimin was feeling it, too. The way he swayed against the curtains, voice hiccupping cutely on his words… there was no doubt he was enjoying himself. Jungkook desperately wanted to abuse the moment, to delve in his drunkness and get lost in Jimin. He giggled at the sight of Jimin gazing dumbly at the stars, his mouth wide open as he cooed at the sky, mesmerized.   “Story time over so soon?”   “No, no… nuh-uh,” Jimin shook his head, making himself dizzy with the sudden movement. “I… I honestly don’t know why I came here tonight. You, uh… you’re a mystery to me. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”   “Talk about being vague…”   “S-shush,” he slurred. “I wuh-wanna know what you see in me… uh, wait no that’s w-weird, isn’t it? I’ve known you for twelve hours and I—”   “I think you’re pretty,” Jungkook said bluntly. Jimin’s breath caught in his throat but he managed to work out a giggle as he looked down at his hands bashfully. “I’m drawn to pretty things.”   Jungkook could feel Jimin’s weight against his side, could feel his petite stature pressed delicately against him, the warmth of his body lingering around his own. He could smell his aroma—delightful and soapy—as his face inched closer to his, the tips of their noses brushing ever so slightly. He could feel Jimin’s cool breath against his neck, his head rooting itself perfectly into the crook of his neck. Jungkook held him there, hands moving to wrap around the boy’s back as he rubbed a finger down his spine, massaging the soft skin over his thick, scratchy sweater.   “Jungkook-ah… s-stay… here…”   He could hear the soft hum of Jimin’s breath growing even and relaxed, his lids closing drowsily with every stroke of Jungkook’s hand down his back. For a brief moment Jungkook had forgotten it all… forgotten his doubts, his fears… his desires. He no longer felt that hollow space in his stomach, the endless pit of despair that edged him into his dark place, no… he felt different now. He felt full.   Complete.   The limpness of Jimin’s body in his arms felt right… the way his pink cheeks grew puffy and swollen in his slumber, his cute little nose nudged firmly against Jungkook’s collarbone. He wouldn’t give into his desires—not tonight. He wouldn’t dare feel this way when he was sober, wouldn’t let a soul see him this vulnerable again… not even Jimin. He hoped he wouldn’t remember it, begged that he wouldn’t.   Jungkook once again gazed up at the night sky, the stars in full bloom against the dark shades of blues and blacks that illuminated the night. The brisk air felt cool and inviting on Jungkook’s skin as he welcomed the turn of a new day. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, the atmosphere consuming him entirely. He wanted to stay like this forever, but even that wouldn’t be enough…   He smoothed a hand down over Jimin’s soft blonde hair, fingers tracing along his jaw before lifting his face up slightly to press a sweet kiss between his brows.   “I’m right here.” Chapter End Notes This got way more fluffy than intended but I couldn't help myself... I really wanted to test the waters with Jikook before diving in. ALSO don't expect Jungkook to be all soft and mushy now... he's still a brat and I intend to keep writing him that way LOL Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!