Chapter Text
Taehyung gulped audibly and closed his eyes, a deep sigh escaping his parted lips. He could feel the anxiousness welling up in his body at the sound of Jimin and Jungkook’s maniacal laughter, no empathy whatsoever for Taehyung’s misfortune. Taehyung opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of Jimin’s crumpled form on the floor, arm clutching his stomach from the booming force of his laughter. Jungkook was cackling while frantically wiping the tears on his face with the sleeves of his sweater.
Assholes.
“Guys, this isn’t fair,” Taehyung tried to protest, but he knew that his efforts would be fruitless. The other two only managed to laugh harder, Jimin falling backwards on his back and Jungkook leaning forward so hard that his head met the surface of the coffee table they were sitting around with a resonating thud.
Taehyung sighed again, hoping that if he did it hard enough he could maybe pass out and earn some pity from the other two. He suddenly regretted ever daring Jimin to eat a live worm knowing the boy was squeamish, and daring Jungkook to breathe in Namjoon’s sweaty gym sock for five minutes, knowing the boy was sensitive to smells.
This is the way the universe was going to punish him for being a dick to his friends; by giving him a one way ticket to his sure death.
Taehyung sighed once again and prayed to whoever was listening, asking that if Yoongi was going to quite literally kill him for this, to at least do it humanely.
--
“Hey hyung, can I see your phone for a sec?”
Yoongi looked up from where he was seated on the couch, surprised to see Taehyung standing right in front of him. He hadn’t heard him come in, which in itself was odd; Taehyung was always loud.
Yoongi simply nodded and gestured towards his phone that laid beside him, more focused about the book that he was reading. It was one of those that Namjoon always carried around with him everywhere and it had made him curious. Now that Yoongi was halfway through, he understood the younger’s insistence on rereading this over and over. This shit was actually interesting.
Taehyung, shocked at meeting no resistance, quickly picked up the device and sat on the other end of the couch. Far enough to where Yoongi wouldn't be able to see what he was doing but also close enough for him to not be curious.
He quickly went on the Facebook app and headed over to Yoongi’s profile. His finger hovered over the edit button next to ‘Works at: School of Performing Arts, Seoul.’ Taehyung sighed heavily and pressed the button, changing the profession quickly before he could change his mind and back out of the bet.
He clicked out of the app, making sure to delete off of the history in case Yoongi got curious as to what he was doing, and shut the screen of the phone off, laying the device gently down beside him. Taehyung propped an elbow up on the side of the sofa, chin rested in his hand as he contemplated what was to come his way. He knew Yoongi would find out, and he knew that the older male would immediately know that it was Taehyung’s doing—he was the only one that was allowed on his phone per best friend privileges.
Taehyung jumped despite himself when Yoongi turned a page rather forcefully from where he sat and the elder turned to look at him with amusement painting his dainty features. Taehyung gulped audibly, wondering briefly if Yoongi could hear his thoughts.
Oh god, that would suck.
“You okay over there?” Yoongi asked almost teasingly, mirth dancing in his eyes. Taehyung nodded frantically, heart almost leaping out of his chest when he Yoongi started reaching for his phone, a choked noise coming out of his throat when the pale hand wrapped around the device.
Yoongi lifted a delicate eyebrow at him, pulling his phone back into his lap. Taehyung got up quickly, throw pillows being tossed astray in his haste. He bent down quickly to pick them up and positioned them back on the couch, god forbid Yoongi got angry over this, only to kill him with more spite later on.
Taehyung practically ran out of the shared space, slamming the door of his room shut with much haste.
He was sure Min Yoongi was going to kill him.
--
Hoseok sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, and it was barely noon.
Namjoon scoffed from where he sat in front of the distressed male, pulling his mug carefully up to his lips, sipping delicately, not wanting to ruin the beautifully drawn leaf the talented barista had left in his drink. He watched silently as Hoseok smacked his forehead onto the black polished surface of the table the were occupying, slightly missing jamming his temple onto the edge of the square plate where his untouched panini lay. Namjoon merely rolled his eyes at the pained groans that Hoseok made, more interested in his latte.
“You’re a sad human being, you know that?” Namjoon quirked, watching as Hoseok lifted his head up slightly to glare at him, forehead sporting a red patch from where it had been pressed down firmly onto the table. “Real sad.”
“Thanks so much for the input that I never asked for.” Hoseok mumbled, dejected, forehead resting on a cooler spot in the dark onyx. He knew that he looked like a mess, he was a mess, but he had stopped caring some time ago.
Namjoon reached over the table, snatching Hoseok’s panini with one hand while nudging the male with the other. He sat back as said male lifted his head once more to look at him,another patch of his forehead enflamed.
“You know,” Namjoon spoke after a couple of bites from the stolen sandwich. “If you’re so lonely, you could, I dunno, try to make some friends?”
“I don’t want to be friends with any of these people, Namjoon. They’re kinda mean.” Hoseok said, a bit petulantly, trying his best to to let the whining in his voice make its way to Namjoon’s ears. He didn’t succeed.
“Hoseok,” said male groaned, pouting up at Namjoon, “You’re 26 years old, and you’re worried about befriending your coworkers because they’re kinda mean?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Hoseok slammed his hands down on the cold onyx, drawing the attention of a couple patrons that were occupying the cafe. “I’m not! I swear they all hate me!”
Namjoon swallowed around a particularly large bite of Hoseok’s panini, choking a little, he washed it down with a gulp of his latte, and in his haste, ruined the intricate leaf. Namjoon frowned down at his cup, “Hoseok no one hates you. Intimidated, yeah, but not hatred.”
Hoseok blinked slowly, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.
Sighing, Namjoon gestured with his hand around the cafe. “People. You intimidate them.”
“I don’t understand?” Namjoon noted that Hoseok didn’t seem to realize his statement came out more as a question.
“Since when are you this dense?”
“I’m not! You’re not making any sense!” Hoseok was obviously getting frustrated, a few stray strands of hair falling onto his forehead.
“Listen,” Namjoon started, “You’re the heir to this fucking company, Hoseok. Of course people are intimidated by you when you can end their job with one fucking word.”
“But, I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” Genuine confusion underlined Hoseok’s voice. “Why would anyone think that?”
“Hoseok, you never make an attempt to talk to anyone.”
“I’m scared to, and no one ever talks to me either. Only when they have to.”
“They’re scared too, you dumbass.”
“Oh.”
“You’ve been working here since you turned 18 and that thought never once crossed your mind?”
Hoseok reached over and snatched the remaining half of his sandwich from Namjoon’s hand, ignoring the taller male’s protests. “I never thought about it like that.”
Namjoon traced his index finger around the rim of his mug. “Just assumed that everyone hated you?”
“Yup.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Hey! You see that guy over there?” Namjoon looked over at where Hoseok was gesturing, looking over at the counter where there stood the barista that had made him his latte. “That kid over there, pretty sure he hates me.”
Namjoon looked back at Hoseok, seeing that he looked quite confident in his statement. “Jimin? Jimin hates you?”
“Yeah.”
“The dude over there?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“The little shorty over there?”
“Namjoon.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“It’s kind of hard not to if you think Jimin of all people hates you.” Namjoon drank the last bit of his latte. Maybe he should get another one. Hoseok was giving him a headache.
“But he’s so nice to you! And then whenever I order he never looks me in the eyes!” Hoseok huffed, cheeks puffed out . Namjoon thought he looked like a child.
“Did you saying hello?”
Hoseok didn’t reply, biting into his panini.
Namjoon pushed his chair back and stood, snatching the sandwich from Hoseok’s hands. “Try talking to Jimin next time.”
Hoseok watched as Namjoon walked away, waving to Jimin on his way out. The brown haired turned to look back at the table Namjoon was occupying when he caught Hoseok staring at him, and quickly ducked under the counter.
Hoseok huffed.
He wasn’t intimidating.
Just, he was just really fucking lonely.
--
Min Yoongi hated his job with a passion.
He loved making music, enjoyed teaching others how to make melodies and watch them develop and start making their own. He wanted to show people his love for music, and through that, he hoped that they would come to love it to.
He still hated this job though.
Yoongi had thought that teaching at a high school, a high school for performing arts at that, would make his job easier. He had thought that the students that attended there would surely be more interested in music than those at regular high schools. He had thought that here he would be able to bond with his students over their mutual love for music.
Yoongi had thought.
What he realized, however, was that the pressure to be taken as a trainee for some big recording company was all that was on the student body’s mind. He realized that most weren’t as passionate about music as they were about the idea of fame and fortune. He had realized that the corruption of the music industry had even reached its fundamental levels.
Yoongi had come into his first day of work visibly excited, a fact that Taehyung had eagerly pointed out as the elder male left their apartment that morning. He had shown up to work, lesson plans for the whole week highlighted and annotated in his bookbag, a smile on his face.
Yoongi’ smile hadn’t lasted the entire day.
In fact, it soon dropped after his first period class, when not even one of his student, not one, seemed to care for the course. They all seemed to be there just to fill a graduation requirement, a class they could say they took and helped them improve for when they hopefully became idols.
Yoongi was disillusioned. Class after class, he had noted the same thing. No one wanted to learn about music, no one was enthusiastic, no one care about anything other than how to do it.
A select few didn’t even want to do that, already confident that they would have producers that would make songs for them. Yoongi thanks the stars that he had decided to become a teacher and not a producer; at least here they were still kids, he wasn’t sure how well he would be able to cope with snobby adults.
To make matters worse, they had been making cut backs at the school had been laying people off. Yoongi was honestly worried about his job. Worried that they would find someone who would make the kids engaged and interested to learn.
Maybe an ex idol, he was sure they would love that.
Yoongi hated his job, but he sure as hell could not afford to lose it.
--
“I found a way to fix your sad life.”
“My life isn’t sad.” Hoseok didn’t look up as Namjoon boisterously entered his office, slamming the door into the wall and in turn knocking a painting out of place and a potted plant off of a book shelf.
“And they first thing we are going to do is fix that attitude of yours.” Namjoon was smiling that stupid smile, lips stretched wide, dimples on full display. He looked adorable and Hoseok hated it,
“Get out of my office.”
“See, this is the problem,” Namjoon sat on the edge Hoseok’s desk. Hoseok wanted to push him off. “You need to like, stop being such a prude when you’re focused on work. Like, I bet it’s super hot and stuff to other people but honestly you’re just being a dick.”
“You’re a dick.” Hoseok typed angrily to hide the flush on his cheeks from his lame comeback.
“So sad, you can’t even clap back.”
“Why would I clap?”
“For God’s sake, Hoseok.” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming to try and calm himself down before continuing. “Anyways, I know how to fix you.”
“I don’t need to be fixed, Namjoon. Get the hell out of my office.” Hoseok was not in the mood for this. He appreciated Namjoon’s concern, but he hated when he acted as if Hoseok need to be altered because he was lonely.
“Okay, maybe not fixed. But, I know how to help.”
“Don’t you have work to do?” Honestly, how did he find time to annoy Hoseok all the time?
“Nope,” Namjoon popped the ‘p’, knowing that it irritated Hoseok to no end. “I cleared my schedule just for you.”
“Did Seokjin hyung break up with you? Are you punishing me for him finally coming to his senses?”
Namjoon was not amused. “At least I have a boyfriend.”
“Good for you, get out of my office.”
The dimpled male slid into the seat on the other side of Hoseok’s, now directly facing him. Namjoon reached over, disconnecting the keyboard and mouse from Hoseok’s computer. Hoseok didn’t even complain, he knew the way to get Namjoon out was to let him feel satisfied.
“So, we’re gonna get you a sugar baby.”
“Namjoon, get the fuck out of my office.”
“No, listen,” Namjoon leaned against Hoseok’s mahogany desk. “We can get you a sugar baby, and then you won’t be so lonely anymore. You’ll have someone always available.”
“When I said that I wanted a friend that wasn’t you, I didn’t mean I wanted someone to fuck per say.” Hoseok moved to connect his keyboard back into his computer, already done with the conversation, but Namjoon moved faster, snatching the cables from Hoseok’s fingers.
He miscalculated the weight of the keyboard, however, and clambered onto the floor with a crack. Hoseok sat back in his chair, exhausted. “Look, Namjo—”
“Hoseok, listen to me for a second.” Once Namjoon saw that Hoseok wasn’t going to interrupt, he continued. “Listen, just because you have a sugar baby doesn’t mean you have to fuck them. There are platonic babies out there too.”
Hoseok stayed silent, letting Namjoon speak.
“It’ll be a beneficial thing for both of you, you help someone out with their bills, and you learn how to socialize with people who aren’t me.” Hoseok opened his mouth to retaliate, quickly closing it once he remembered Park Jimin’s small frame hiding behind a counter to avoid his stare.
“Think about it, Hoseok.”
Hoseok sighed. He didn’t want to have a sugar baby, platonic or not. But, he also couldn’t say that the idea of having someone he could talk to at all times didn’t sound appealing. “I don’t know Namjoon, why can’t we just try to get me a friend the normal way?”
“Did you say hi to Jimin like I told you to?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you? That’s how you make friends the normal way.”
“I stared at him and he hid from me.”
“But did you say hi?”
“No.”
“Hoseok.”
“Fine, I’ll think about it. But don’t expect anything.” Hoseok could not believe he was actually agreeing to this. He suddenly regretted not having any coffee this morning.
Namjoon beamed. “Good ‘cause I already contacted someone for you.”
Hoseok stared at Namjoon, unblinking. The longer Hoseok stared, the more Namjoon’s smile fell. Hoseok loved Namjoon, he really did, but sometimes he really didn’t.
Namjoon slowly reached into his coat pocket, conjuring Hoseok’s phone seemingly out of thin air. He placed it in the middle of the table, gently. A peace offering.
Hoseok still hadn’t blinked.
“I messaged him on Facebook, his name is Min Yoongi. He’s just your type I’m sure.” Hoseok did not reply, Namjoon kept on speaking. “ He’s pale, has black hair, looks pretty cute. I think you’ll like him.”
Hoseok looked down at his phone, the black device glinting almost mischievously back at him. Hoseok wanted to throw it out of the window, Namjoon right after it. He counted to ten in his head, once, twice, thrice.
“Namjoon?”
“Yes?”
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
Namjoon nodded eagerly, almost knocking the chair he was sitting in over in his haste. He bent down to pick up the broken keyboard on the floor, dropping it onto Hoseok’s desk. He took long strides towards the door, giving Hoseok a mock salute before shutting the door behind him.
Hoseok dropped his forehead on the table and groaned.
--
Yoongi was going to get fired, he was sure of it.
The school principal had called him in under the presence of buying new equipment. How were they supposed to buy new equipment if there were budget cuts?
He’d told Yoongi that they had planned to buy more instruments, so that more students could practice at the same time. Spewed lies about being worried that the size of the music department was too large, that they might have to cut some instruments out to make room for the new ones.
The man’s implications rang loud and clear in Yoongi’s ears.
Yoongi was going to get fired, he was going to get fired and Taehyung was moving out of their shared apartment in a couple months. The lease would be up soon, and Taehyung was going to move in with Jungkook and Jimin to complete the triad of the terrible trio.
Yoongi had counted on a raise at work for his two years on working there to be able to make the rent on his own. He hadn't counted on getting fired.
Yoongi was going to have to find a new job soon, one that could pay his full rent, or he’d have to ask Taehyung to stay for a couple more months until he got everything sorted out. But even then, Taehyung wouldn’t be able to stay long because their would be up. Taehyung would have to leave.
He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Yoongi had been looking at job openings all day, but there were either no jobs that he was qualified for, or too far from home to even consider.
Yoongi sighed once again, this time with his whole being. He hope that he would find a way out of this mess quickly.
Yoongi hoped.