Chapter Text
”Hyung... do you think I’m going to be famous one day? Do you think I’m going to change the world?
He doesn’t even try to mask the bitter smile that stretches across his face after the question. “Sure, kiddo. Everyone will know your name.”
Some people wouldn’t care much about telling simple white lies like these to kids. They’d say that kids don’t hold on to these sort of things, that such a small sentence couldn’t shape their entire future.
They’d be wrong.
Min Yoongi has worked his whole life for it, and still nobody knows his name.
It’s almost a general rule that most people like rain when they’re not standing in it. They like the sound of rain, the thunder and lightning that accompany rain, the dark clouds and even the aesthetic of it. But you put a person outside in the rain and let them get wet, and all the sudden they’re miserable and cold and uncomfortable. Suddenly the pretty, aesthetic rain fades to flooding streets and muddy ground, soaked and grumpy people, and the realization that they want to be out of the rain.
Jimin’s realizing he wants to be out of the rain.
It’s his fault he’s currently trudging through a flooded (but thankfully empty) parking lot, but that fact doesn’t make his situation any better. All it does is worsen his mood, knowing he could have avoided parking so far away if he’d just arrived to work on time like he’s supposed to.
There had been no family emergency. He hadn’t been sick. Jimin just wanted to sleep in a bit more this morning. Almost losing his job should have been punishment enough, but the world took and gave as it pleased and today it decided that he deserved to walk through an entire parking lot in heavy rain just to get to his car.
Jimin wonders dryly if the world will punish him a third time while he’s out driving on the wet roads.
He’s soaked, chilled to the bone, and doesn’t even have it in him to start running to his car when lighting flashes across the sky. Not for the first time, he regrets forgetting to bring rain gear. At least if he had a rain jacket or umbrella he would feel a little less miserable. But instead he was dressed in his work clothes, which he was definitely going to have to wash as soon as he got home.
Finally, the red blur that had been his car for the past few minutes turns into an actual vehicle, and Jimin pulls out his keys and unlocks the door. The car’s lights flash as it beeps, almost as if it’s welcoming an old friend, and Jimin is only relieved when he hears the usually annoying high-pitched beeping.
He quickly slides in the car, closing and locking the doors, then reclines his seat back and closes his eyes. Jimin’s not looking forward to the drive home, already knowing the roads are going to be nasty. He would really prefer not to drive back in these conditions, and a brief check of his weather app tells him that the rain isn’t going to let up until midnight tonight.
Yeah, he’s not going to sit here for six hours.
With a sigh, he sits up and starts the car, turning the air conditioning immediately to its hottest setting. After a few seconds, the heat kicks up, and Jimin relaxes a bit. I could fall asleep here, Jimin thinks, laying back down and closing his eyes. I really want to fall asleep.
Working in customer service was the biggest pain. Jimin wasn’t much of a pessimist, but he really did think that his “promotion” was actually a step down from working as a cashier. The only thing telling him otherwise was his pay, which he guessed he couldn’t really complain about.
The rain continues to fall outside, and Jimin groans, knowing at some point he does have to drive home. Not only because he can’t just sit in a parking lot overnight, but also because he’s hungry and needs to wash his clothes and himself.
So with an exaggerated huff, Jimin pulls himself up and fixes his seat. He’s warmer now that the heat has been going, and tries to think about how warm he’ll be when he finally gets home. He looks around the parking lot, empty except for a dark figure standing off to the left, and starts to drive towards the intersection.
Jimin tries not to pay the figure much attention; it was probably another homeless person without shelter. Usually he’d pull over and give them any spare cash he had, maybe even give them a ride if he felt like they were trustworthy, but now he just wanted to lay down and sleep.
It’s when he pulls up to the intersection and pauses that the person starts waving frantically and walking closer to the car, clearly trying to flag Jimin down.
Jimin curses under his breath. I don’t want to deal with this right now. Nonetheless, he rolls down his window halfway, knowing that the guilt would have eaten him alive if he’d just ignored the person.
He’s a little surprised when he sees that the person isn’t someone in their late forties, as seemed to be the majority of the homeless people in his town, but rather a young man who looked to be in his early twenties. What could he want, and why is he out on the streets in this weather?
“Thank you for stopping,” the man says, not a hint of a smile on his face. “I was hoping you could help me?”
There’s a vibe coming off the man that Jimin can’t place. He seems nice, for the most part, but also closed-off. Mysterious. Kind of a bit scary, honestly. A mental image of the man pulling a gun out of his jacket and shooting Jimin only to steal the car passes through his mind, but he forcefully shoves it back. He doesn’t need to get anxious over something that, more than likely, would not happen. It was ridiculous.
“Yeah, what is it?” Jimin asks, smiling. He hopes that maybe his friendliness will rub off on the other guy and make him loosen up a bit.
It doesn’t work, and the guy’s expression stays the same as he states his request. “I need a ride, it’s only a little ways away. Could you drive me?”
Jimin doesn’t even have time to process the request before the guy’s rattling off the address.
“It’s 1405 Martha Street. You know, the place next to that old gas station? On the north side of town?”
And oh. Jimin knows the place the guy’s talking about, and it’s not exactly known for its safety and peacefulness.
Quite the opposite, actually.
Reports of shootings from the northern part of town appear in the news almost every day, each sunrise revealing a new horror from the night before. Countless street gangs hide out there, claiming certain places as their “territory” and shooting anyone who dares challenge that. It’s the furthest thing from safe in the daytime, much less when it starts to get darker.
And right now it’s raining, the sun is surely starting to set, and this shady kid wants Jimin to drive him to a shady part of town. Jimin doesn’t even try to stop the countless scenarios that run through his head, each one getting darker and darker until finally he stops himself at “captured and tortured to death”.
“Sorry, I have to get home,” Jimin says distantly, flashing the guy a clearly-fake smile. He starts to roll his window up, and ignores the seemingly uncharacteristic whine of the guy.
“Wait! Please, I need to get back, please help-“
The guy’s pleas turn muffled as Jimin rolls his window up all the way, already dead-set on his decision. He had his own limits, and he wasn’t going to put himself in any uneccesary danger. Maybe if he was sure the kid was trustworthy, but that wasn’t the case.
Better safe than sorry.
Jimin pulls out onto the intersection, and tells himself not to look back at the guy. His curiosity gets the better of him, though, and he takes a final glance at the guy.
Immediately, his heart breaks in half.
The guy is kneeling on the wet and muddy grass, head in his hands, and very obviously crying.
Just keep driving, Jimin tells himself, pushing away the familiar queasy feeling of guilt. Just keep driving.
But even when he’s home and laying in bed, warm and comfortable and all things pleasant, he can’t force himself to forget about it.
He can’t forget the image of that man, shaking and crying on the muddy ground, clearly distressed, the reason for it being Jimin’s own fears.
Jimin feels sick.