Chapter Text
When Yoongi first met him, it was unremarkable. There was nothing special about their meeting; nothing special about the room they were in; nothing special about him.
“So,” Yoongi eyed the new addition to their group warily, not quite sure what to make of him yet. “What are you?”
It was a question that Yoongi had asked every kid that walked through the doors of their sweaty little practice room - a room that had seen far too many hopeful young men toiling away to achieve a singular dream, that their blood, sweat and tears seemed to have absorbed into the very walls and waxed floorboards over the years, giving the room a distinct smell that Yoongi could only describe as ‘man stank’.
This was where he met him. Where he first broke the surface of the water, unknowingly creating ripples crashing endlessly between them - for better and for worse.
And because Yoongi had not really mastered the art of appropriate introductions at this point in his life, he didn't do it with a regular ‘hello’ or even a civil handshake - he jumped right in and asked the what he proudly believed gave him an upper hand when it came to accurately sizing people up.
Which was exactly what he intended to do with this new guy.
Seokjin, unsurprisingly, was nonplussed by the strange question asked by the even stranger - well - stranger.
The boy who had just sat himself down beside him leaned his back against the mirrored wall of the practice room, his casual nonchalance coming across a little too practiced to be real to Seokjin’s trained eye. He had his arms crossed over his chest, watching him expectantly with a gentle scowl that reminded Seokjin of a sour neighbourhood cat that he used to pet on his way to school.
“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked, shooting the smaller guy a curious look. He knew his name, of course. The whole group of them had just gone through a round of casual introductions before most of the boys went back to sitting on the floor. Namjoon, Hyosang, Hunchul, Donghyuck and Hoseok.
And this pale, little one was Min Yoongi.
In all honesty, Jin wasn't sure why he was even here. All he had been told by one of the staff members this morning was that they thought it would be a good idea for him to finally meet the musical trainees at Big Hit. And before he knew, he had been whisked away from his peaceful acting department and shuffled awkwardly into the practice room downstairs to ‘mingle’.
It wasn't that bad; the trainees were all roughly around the same age as he was, and they had all been as welcoming as a bunch of guys in their late-teens could possibly be - all gruff nods and cocky smirks.
They had tried talking to him a little bit but eventually, they’d gone back to doing whatever it was they had been doing before Seokjin had made his appearance.
He observed them quietly from the sidelines, glancing occasionally between the clock and the door, wondering when his manager would call him back to his regular schedule.
But Yoongi happened before his manager did, and Seokjin found himself having no choice but to interact.
“I mean, what are you?” Yoongi repeated, as if saying the exact same thing with a different stress pattern would somehow help Seokjin understand him (it didn't).
This wasn't the first time he had ever seen Seokjin. They worked in the same company, on different floors of the same building, so naturally they had all caught glimpses of each other. From across the room at company events; fleeting sightings of Seokjin through the glass doors of their studio as he walked past the corridors.
It was, however, the first time Yoongi had seen him up close. Seokjin looked unassuming enough to Yoongi, if not a little bit softer around the edges than the type of crowd he was used to.
The boys at the music department were a little rougher. As Yoongi always claimed, and as his mother would vehemently deny, they grew up in the streets. It was a culture they shared borne out of a mutual love of hip hop.
Which inexplicably translated to all six of them wearing knock-off Air Jordans they got from Myeong Dong on separate occasions out of their own individual volition. Yoongi even snapped up a ‘gold’ chain for a steal. Only three dollars! Sure, he had had to walk back to the dorm after his purchase because he didn't have bus money but what was a few miles in foot when street cred is priceless?
It was evident that Seokjin wasn't like them, though. His immediate impression was that he was a straight-laced, clean cut guy. Quiet. A little too pretty for the likes of them.
A hell of a lot geeky too, if Yoongi was being completely honest, the childish panda t-shirt that Seokjin was sporting really throwing Yoongi off for some reason.
The boy frowned at him, still wearing the same expression of confusion. “Um. I’m a trainee…?” he replied unsurely, as if questioning if that was the answer Yoongi was looking for.
Apparently, it was not.
“Oh, come on,” Yoongi scoffed, his lips pulling into a small grin - the very first one Seokjin has seen from him. “We’re in Seoul, for god’s sake. Everyone and their halmeoni is a trainee! I mean, what do you do? Outside of -” Yoongi paused, gesturing emptily at their slightly dingy surroundings. “ - this.”
Subconsciously tracing the movements of Yoongi’s hands, Seokjin glanced around at the room for a quick second before returning his gaze onto Yoongi. “Oh, is that what you meant? In that case, I’m a student,” Seokjin answered in relief, confident that he had finally given Yoongi his desired response.
But Yoongi’s lips still held a dissatisfied pout, cocking his head to the side as if urging Seokjin to continue. “Uh-huh, aaand…?”
“...and I literally have no idea what else you want me to say right now,” Seokjin admitted, chuckling nervously behind his palm to hide his bewilderment.
Sighing in exasperation, Yoongi went on to further clarify himself. “Well, you can't just be a student, right? What else do you do? You know, that actually pays so you can afford to live and shit like that,” he said, his tone brusque but his eyes secretly shining with interest.
“Like a side job?” asked Seokjin with a small frown. Yoongi nodded eagerly, and Seokjin’s frown deepened. “I don't have one.”
It was this nugget of information that somehow hit all the wrong notes for Yoongi. It was as if he had just heard Seokjin speak in a foreign language, and he hadn't quite understood what was being said.
Because, simply put, it didn't make any sense.
“You don't have a side job? Then how can you afford being a trainee? They barely give us enough money to eat, dude,” Yoongi wondered, looking genuinely perplexed.
He stared curiously at Seokjin, who seemed flustered and almost hesitant to give a reply. But after a few beats of silence, Seokjin finally ducked his head down (the tips of his ears flushing a bit, Yoongi noted) and spoke in a quiet voice.
“I - I don't really need one…? I, uh, get an allowance. From my parents.”
Seokjin glanced up timidly, and he instantaneously noticed the drastic change in Yoongi's expression. Gone was the puzzled look, replaced by the scowl that he had sported earlier - except this time, more intense, and instead of a bubbling curiosity, it held an obvious repulsion behind it.
“Oh,” said Yoongi flatly, and Seokjin swore he had never heard such venom in such a neutral syllable in his life. “So you're one of those kids, huh?”
Those kids that Yoongi hated so much. The ones born with a silver spoon in their mouths and breezed through life without even having to try, and yet still had the nerve to act all high and mighty, looking down on people like Yoongi who had suffered - suffered - to simply get on equal footing. Those people who spat on his aspirations because he had absolutely nothing aside from his fierce determination to succeed, as if lacking money somehow invalidated his drive.
People like Seokjin didn't understand how it felt like to go to bed hungry because they had to decide between dinner and tuition fees. People like Seokjin didn't have to fight tooth and nail to convince their parents that their dreams weren't just an idea to be toyed with - that it was worth leaving behind the prospects of a stable job and a stable income.
‘People like Seokjin - ’ Yoongi thought, as he watched the other boy slowly shrink into himself. ‘- have no place in his life.’
“I - I mean, w-we get by,” Seokjin stammered, cringing at the sudden animosity that was being thrown his way. He understood all too well where it was coming from, and he didn't blame Yoongi for feeling the way he did.
No doubt, Yoongi wasn't the first person to react this way upon learning about Seokjin’s privileged background. Seokjin was well aware that his family was fortunate to be doing well financially, enough to support him fully in his studies and in his training. And he knew that in this unforgiving industry full of desperate and struggling youth, money was an especially touchy subject - one that Seokjin was often very wary of even broaching.
But as reluctant as he was, Seokjin wasn't about to lie about himself; it just wasn't in his nature. (He’d been suppressing the urge to spill forth his vast collection of dad jokes ever since he started at Big Hit, though. But that didn't count, right? He had an image to maintain.) Aside from that, he was who he was. And it wasn't like he volunteered the information; Yoongi was the one who asked for it. He was just giving an honest answer.
Nevertheless, it still stung a little, hearing how Yoongi’s tone had become so harsh so quickly.
“Whatever you say, rich boy,” Yoongi sniffed distastefully. “How’d you even get in here anyway? I don't remember them having held any auditions for a while.”
Seokjin blinked.
Oh. This question. This was another particularly touchy point of contention when it came to Seokjin's status as a trainee.
Yoongi was not going to like this. Not many trainees did.
“I didn't audition...” Seokjin said slowly, pulling up his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them protectively. He was bracing himself, preparing for the backlash that he was certain was going to happen. Hiding his face slightly against his knees, he said with a sigh, “I… was street-casted.”
Turns out, he was right, because Yoongi’s reaction was to immediately roll his eyes and let out a sarcastic bark of laughter that made Seokjin wince.
“Oh my god, it’s worse than I thought!” he spat, rolling his body away from Seokjin as if he was disgusted to even be near him. “You're not just a rich pretty boy; you're one of those talentless rich pretty boys, who waltz into entertainment companies easy-peasy, while everyone else has to work their asses off just to be given a shot!” Yoongi snarled angrily.
His biting words made Seokjin’s head shoot up to glare at Yoongi, ready to defend himself against baseless accusations. “Hey, talentless?!” he repeated in disbelief. “How would you know that, you just met me! You don't know the first thing about me!” Seokjin cried out indignantly.
“Let me tell you the first thing about me,” Yoongi said lowly, glaring at the other boy now. “I worked and I suffered years just to get here. I fought everyone and everything to get to where we both are right now, and I fought hard. And it makes me mad when people like you get a free ride, because it makes all of my efforts feel like a joke!”
Their faces were locked on each other at this point, and Seokjin had to tear away his gaze from the angry flush that had crawled up Yoongi’s neck, frowning at the wooden floorboards underneath them.
“I would say that I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But your own insecurities have nothing to do with me. I am where I am for a reason, and that reason isn't to please you.”
His mood officially dampened, Seokjin got up from where he was seated and made to leave, where he could retreat into the safe confines of Big Hit’s acting department, free from rude, judgemental and volatile personalities like Min Yoongi. He didn't even care that his manager wasn't here to pick him up yet. Seokjin just wanted out, immensely glad that he wasn't ever going to need to talk to Yoongi again.
As he picked up his backpack, he grumbled under his breath, more to himself than to anybody else. “You know, I never asked for any of this.”
But Yoongi heard - oh, he’d heard - and as usual, he felt the need to have the last word.
“Exactly. You never asked for this. But we did. You don't deserve to be here.”
The pang in Seokjin's chest that came with Yoongi's cold words was unlike anything he had ever felt.
With one final angry (read: hurt) look over his shoulder, he let his legs carry him hurriedly out of the room, ignoring the curious looks from the other guys. Before he lost his cool, before he ruined his image - he needed to get away from Yoongi.
---
Yoongi had made up his mind on that first day when they had met that he had gotten all the information that he would ever require about Kim Seokjin, enough to be sure that he thoroughly disliked him, and always would.
His friends however - ‘those traitors’, Yoongi thought - did not have quite the same resolution against Seokjin as he did, and were more than happy to indulge their curiosities about their new friend by casually mentioning him in seemingly every moment possible.
That was how Yoongi learned that Seokjin was born in 1992 (“He’s our age, Hunchul! He’s a chingu!”), in December (“Same as me, Hunchul!” “I get it, Hyosang.”) and was an drama major at Konkuk University (“I bet his parents paid for him to be one. “Fuck off, Yoongi, he took the entrance exam like everyone else.”)
It was also from such whisperings - or rather, ramblings, from a one Jin Hyosang, the one member of their group who had somehow taken immensely to Seokjin - that he discovered exactly how Seokjin had been scouted:
“No, but the crazy thing is how he was street casted! I overheard his manager talking to Hobeom-hyung, and it turns out that Seokjinnie was spotted when he was getting off the bus, and the casting director was so taken by his visuals that he tried to approach him right then and there. But Seokjin thought he was a creep and tried to run away. The casting director ended up chasing him down two blocks!”
’The fuck’, Yoongi remembered thinking, his face pulled into an expression that was a cross between confusion and horror. ’They’d wanted Seokjin that bad?’
“He also got scouted by SM -”
“Of fucking course, that pretty boy.”
“ - But he thought it was a scam and ran away.”
Yoongi blinked up at Hyosang at that point, his jaw a little slack from disbelief. “Hey, no offense, but I think your friend might actually be an idiot.”
Which person in their right mind would turn down a potential offer from one of the top three biggest entertainment companies in Korea?! SM may not exactly have been Yoongi's speed - hip hop wasn't really a niche area of theirs - but full of flower-boy visuals and soft vocals; he could see it being right up Seokjin's alley.
And to have thrown away that opportunity because he’d thought it was a joke? What a dumbass.
He wasn't even sure how this topic of conversation surrounding Seokjin had come up (probably brought up randomly by his #1 fanboy), but it wasn't one that Yoongi was particularly keen on continuing.
The four of them - him, Hyosang, Namjoon and Hoseok - were here at Big Hit’s cafeteria (which wasn't so much a cafeteria than just another room with slightly more tables designated for the trainees and staff to dine in - they still had to get food from shops outside) to have lunch, not to gossip.
Yet, he found himself being suckered into responding to every little trivia tidbit offered up about Seokjin for some reason.
“I don't know what you have against him, but quit being mean, you lil shit,” scolded Hyosang, poking Yoongi’s arm with the back of his chopstick for effect. “He’s been nothing but nice. Right, Joon?”
He turned over to stare at Namjoon expectantly, who shrugged in response as he shoveled rice into his mouth. “Sure, Seokjin-hyung’s nice.”
“There you go,” Hyosang said smugly. “Our youngest baby genius Joonie is never wrong.”
“Speak of the devil!” Hoseok cried suddenly, looking past Yoongi’s shoulder. Before Yoongi’s reflexes could kick in to stop him, Hoseok was already waving his arms in the air rapidly, yelling out excitedly across the room. “Yah, Seokjin-hyung! Wanna sit with us?”
Swerving around in his seat, Yoongi felt dread pooling in his stomach as he spotted the tall, lone figure who was just about to have a seat at the opposite end of the cafeteria, far from where the rest of them were.
He looked a little pitiful, eating by himself. Yoongi knew the acting department of their small company wasn't really that developed, and Seokjin was virtually the only talent they had who was under 20. He must not have a lot of friends to hang out with, and Yoongi almost felt sorry for him…
...if not for Hoseok and Hyosang’s annoyingly shrill calls resulting in every ounce of pity evaporating away from his body.
“Seokjin, come eat with us!” they cried out noisily, causing Seokjin to look up with a start. His face quickly broke out into a small grin upon seeing his new friends, but it faded away just as fast when his eyes locked with Yoongi’s from across the room.
Yoongi could see his body stiffen as he hesitated to approach, but the calls of the other three were incessant, and despite some ten seconds of obvious inner turmoil, he eventually gave in and moved his lunch tray over to where the four other boys were seated.
“Hi guys,” Seokjin greeted each of them with a soft smile. His gaze faltered when it reached Yoongi, but he still gave him a curt nod before settling in the seat furthest away from Yoongi.
They didn't interact; not like Yoongi wanted to anyway. Seokjin’s presence at the table kind of spoiled the mood. The way he was engaged in conversation with the others as if they had known each other their whole lives… it bothered Yoongi. Especially since he knew that Seokjin, no matter what, would never truly fit in with them.
The rest of them were letting the wool be pulled over their eyes, all smitten by the fluffy act when he knew that Seokjin was just another asshole who got to where he was with no merit and no passion. Just pure luck.
The thought made him lose his appetite, but Yoongi forced himself to eat every last grain of rice anyway, because he couldn't afford to waste a single thing he had - not time, not money, not food.
Utensils clattering onto his empty metal tray, Yoongi smacked his lips and announced that he was going back to the studio to continue working on his songs. “Oh, I’ll come with you since I’m done too,” Namjoon said, standing up to leave with him.
They said their goodbyes, and Yoongi couldn't help but notice the way Seokjin’s eyes were trained on him the entire time.
“So. What’s up, hyung?” Namjoon asked as they the pair headed up the elevator to their studio.
Yoongi shot him a quizzical look before replying with a gruff, “What are you talking about?”
“I dunno, I just thought maybe something was going on between you and Seokjin-hyung. You were glaring at him the whole time we had lunch,” Namjoon informed him.
“I was not,” Yoongi scowled.
“You kind of were,” Namjoon chuckled. “If it makes you feel any better, Seokjin-hyung kept sneaking glances at you too.”
“He was?” Yoongi said, voice a little too pitchy before adjusting back to his usual gruffness. “I mean - you guys like him but I don't see the appeal? I guess I was just wondering why he keeps hanging around us lately. Isn't it super weird?” Yoongi scratched the back of his neck in exasperation. A couple of weeks ago, Seokjin was a passing shadow in the corridors. Then, all of a sudden, he was fast becoming a regular figure.
It had taken a long time (and a lot of unwanted but highly necessary conflict resolution) for just the rappers themselves to have established a dynamic that they could work with. But for Seokjin to have sauntered in and effortlessly infiltrate their group like that? It didn't sit right.
“Well, I kind of have an inkling as to why…” Namjoon piped up in response. “Apparently, his manager has been encouraging him to spend more time with us music trainees. Hyung told me he doesn't know why they're doing it, but I have my suspicions that they're testing for chemistry.”
Yoongi frowned in concern. “Testing for chemistry? What does that mean?”
“It means they want to know if he would be compatible with us or not.”
The frown deepened. “Okaaay… And what does that mean?”
“It means,” Namjoon sighed, patting his hyung consolingly on the back. “We might be getting a new member soon.”