Work Text:
Yoongi had been driving for the last five hours, the horizon around him only broken by the occasional saguaro and brown dirt as far as he could see when his car started to make that noise. Yes, that noise that meant he had maybe 20 miles to go before she overheated and started to put, put, put and slow down until she refused to move again.
“Shit,” Yoongi cursed under his breath, quickly one handing his phone to see exactly how far away the next gas station was. He stopped the How to Write like the Pros! audiobook he had playing through his tinny speakers (He didn’t usually pay attention to such bullshit, but he was desperate, okay? Seokjin was breathing down his neck about getting a draft for the next novel in his series in the next few weeks and he hadn’t been able to produce anything worth coffee beans in the last few months.) and quickly pulled up the navigation.
He held the steering wheel in his left hand, guided a bit by his knees, while he clumsily tried to search for the nearest gas station. He could hear Seokjin screaming in his mind that this was terribly dangerous and to please keep both eyes on the road Yoongi, I swear to god. If you die how will I make money? But honestly he hadn’t even seen another car for the last hundred miles, no animals, and he sincerely doubted the cacti were going to jump in front of his car. He would be fine.
Yoongi refreshed the map a couple times because sure, he only had barely one bar of service out here, but no results at all? No gas stations, convenience stores, diners, nothing? Not even an incredibly weird and out of place roadside attraction? (He had stopped and seen the World’s Biggest Rubber Band Ball on his drive and texted a picture of him beside the giant ball to Seokjin, instructing him to write it off on his taxes as a business expense.)
But still, maybe it wasn’t that strange that there was nothing around? He was, quite literally, in the middle of the fucking desert, so who in their right mind would set up a business out here. He’s refreshing one more time when suddenly there’s a blaring horn and a terrible screeching. Yoongi looks up with wide eyes only to see a large, rusty brown truck swerving across the road and directly into his lane.
“Fuck!” Yoongi exclaims, swerving out of the way and off the side of the road. He throws his arm out to save Holly from being thrown into the floorboard when he slams on breaks. Yoongi’s car comes to a tumultuous halt in the dry scrub grass lining the road as the truck swerves all the way into his lane, narrowly missing his car. Whoever is driving is laying on the horn the entire time they pass, causing an eerie doppler effect as they blow by.
Taking a split second to check that Holly is okay (He’s fine, just disappointed and a little annoyed at Yoongi’s driving antics) he rolls his window down to yell after them.
“What the fu—” Yoongi starts, but he’s thrown off by seeing people with their upper bodies hanging out of the car, looking his way and waving their hands. One in the backseat, leaning so far out the window Yoongi fears for a second that they may fall out, is frantically shaking her head as she waves her hands in front of her. Yoongi can’t really make out what she’s saying from this distance, and certainly can’t read her lips, but he gets the distinct feeling that she’s telling him No . A chill works it way lightly down his spine as he stares confusedly at the retreating truck.
Yoongi eventually gives up; there’s not really any point as he can’t hear her and they’re almost a small dot on the horizon now anyway. He leans back into his car, Holly looking at him quizzically, and realizes his car has stalled.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters as he turns the key a couple of times, the engine turning over before petering out.
Yeah, she’s done for the day.
He knows the car won’t start back up without cooling off for a bit, and with it being in the high 90s the chances of that happening are zero to none. He’s just scrolling through his contacts, thumb hovering of Seokjin’s name as he contemplates whether this qualifies as an emergency that Seokjin had said he absolutely had to call about when he looks up at the horizon one last time, prepared for defeat.
When he sees it.
Just there, a bit down the road, what would be the equivalent of a couple city blocks.
How...did he miss it earlier? The hotel is huge, and strangely ornate to be in the middle of literal bumfuck nowhere. The brick is an easy, unassuming tan color, and all the doors and windows are arched and decorated beautifully; Yoongi doesn’t particularly have an eye for architecture but even he can tell that this place is fancy.
In lilting script blazoned in-between even more garish trim are the words Hotel Asphodel in gold lettering. Yoongi makes a mental note to Google what Asphodel means once he has a chance.
Yoongi glances at his phone again and furrows his eyebrows; there it is right on his map app: Hotel Asphodel, half a mile from where he’s currently broken down.
He reaches into the back for backpack that has all his belongings: his laptop, his notebook, wallet, all of Holly’s emergency gear as well as his leash.
☽☾
“Welcome to Hotel Asphodel,” the man greeted as Yoongi entered, Holly’s nails clicking lightly against the polished wooden floor, “A hotel so great you’ll never wanna leave.” The man who smiled at Yoongi was tall, skin a pleasing tan color, dimples framing his wide smile. “How can I help you?”
“I’m broken down about half a mile down the road, and I think it’s dead for the time being, so I guess I’m here to check in.” Yoongi couldn’t help but smile back politely at the man. At his feet Holly whines a little before twining himself between Yoongi’s feet. Yoongi watches the smile falter a bit on the man’s face.
“You have a dog?” he asks, eyes flitting down to where Holly’s tiny form is hidden below the check-in desk.
“Oh, yes, I do, will that be a problem?” Yoongi squats to pick up Holly around the ribs, fingers slipping into the curly brown fur. Yoongi hoists Holly to where the man, whose nametag says Namjoon, can see. However, Yoongi is taken aback when Holly growls lowly at the man, the tips of his teeth just starting to show behind his lips.
“Min Holly!” Yoongi chastises, completely surprised at Holly’s behavior. “What’s gotten into you?” He puts Holly back on the floor and watches him cower between Yoongi’s legs again. “I’m so sorry,” Yoongi starts, looking at Namjoon apologetically, who at least seems okay after the whole ordeal. “I swear he’s not aggressive, maybe it was the long car ride?”
“No problem at all!” Namjoon responds, and even Yoongi is a little confused by his chipper voice, considering he just got growled at by an unfamiliar dog. “Pets are always welcome here at Hotel Asphodel.”
Yoongi watches Namjoon start typing into the computer (which Yoongi guesses came right out of the late 90s, if that). “So how many weeks can I ring you up for?”
Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Weeks? I was thinking maybe a night or two actually?”
At that Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “We actually only rent for a week at a time. You can check out any time you like, but we’d have to charge you for the whole week. Adds to the whole boutique hotel feel, you know?”
Yoongi’s mouth opens and closes again as he quickly weighs his options. He supposes he could stay for a while, treat it as a bit of a writing vacation? Yes, please, anything so you can finish this manuscript before the deadline , he can practically hear Seokjin saying in his ear.
“Um, sure, a week sounds good.” Yoongi agrees. He rubs Holly with the side of his leg as he hears him whine a bit from the floor.
“Excellent,” Namjoon’s smile widens impossibly, almost the widest smile Yoongi’s ever seen, “let’s get you checked in.”
☽☾
A compact man with dark hair shows him to his room. “Are you sure you don’t want anyone to accompany you to your car?” He unlocks Yoong’s door with the key (a metal key? And not a card? What decade did Yoongi step into?) before handing it to him. He manages to shift Holly to one arm so he can grab the key.
“No it’s fine,” he says, “I’ve got most of the things I need here, and there’s literally nobody on the road to break into it, so I’ll walk back for it later.”
The man is smiling, and Yoongi thinks distantly that he’s got a dazzling smile (Why does everyone here smile so wide?) that makes his eyes curve up above his cheeks.
“Thank you again,” he says as he turns to enter the hotel room, “did you say your name was Ji—” Yoongi stops abruptly as he steps into the room. There’s someone in his room.
“Oh,” the person smiles at them, tiny dimples shining at the corners of his mouth, “Jimin, no one told me the room was rented.” Yoongi watches him finish wiping down the mirror, before putting the cloth he’s using on his rolling cart of cleaning supplies.
“Hoseok,” Jimin greets, eyebrows raised in surprise, “I thought you’d be on the other floor by now.”
“Just finishing up,” Hoseok says. Yoongi watches the two of them, and he can tell that they seem to be talking silently between them, eyebrows twitching and eyes shifting to look at Yoongi when they think he’s not looking. They’re wrong.
Just then Holly curls his body violently, and Yoongi manages to lower him closer to the floor before he flips completely out of his arms. To his utter horror, Holly darts at Hoseok and Jimin, barking shrilly and growling.
“Jesus, Holly,” Yoongi says. He reaches for him again but Holly dodges his grip, angry yips never ceasing. “I’m so sorry,” Yoongi tells the men, who seem almost amused by Holly’s antics? “Holly, stop!”
“Oh it’s okay,” Jimin says placidly. “We’re used to it.” He turns his smile on Hoseok, who nods.
“Yes, they all stop barking eventually.”
Yoongi looks at them with his eyebrows drawn together.
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing, sir,” Jimin smiles at him, “just some Hotel Asphodel humor. Please let us know if you need anything, we’ll be at the front desk.” Jimin grabs Hoseok by the wrist and leads them out of Yoongi’s hotel room.
Once the door is shut, Yoongi turns on Holly. “Holly, what the hell was that?” Holly just gives one last, small growl before squeezing under the hotel bed and staying.
☽☾
Yoongi stretches, pointing his toes toward end of the bed before sitting up, rubbing his eyes. God that was a great nap after the stress of the morning. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, expecting to see a text from Seokjin to check the progress of the manuscript. To his surprise, there’s nothing waiting on him; then he realizes that he has absolutely zero bars of service. That’s less surprising considering the hotel seems to be almost a century old. Of course it would be a deadzone.
Yoongi notices that it’s almost dinner time, the sky is starting to dim and it’s quiet, so he decides there’s no better time than the present to get some manuscript work done. He sets his phone back on the nightstand only to notice a small notepad there that he hadn’t seen before.
It’s a small, unassuming thing with “Hotel Asphodel” printed across the top, and there’s a hand-drawn smiley face next to the words. Hmm, Yoongi thinks, must’ve been the housekeeper; Hoseok was it?
He pushes the notepad to the back of his mind before packing his things to check out the hotel bar, and perhaps walk back to retrieve his car before bed. He packs his laptop, his phone (despite the lack of service), checks for his wallet and keys before stooping down to peek under the bed.
“You doin’ okay under there, Hols?” Yoongi asks, and he knows Seokjin would smirk at him if he heard the baby voice that he couldn’t help but use with Holly sometimes. Especially when he was being moody, which he was doing now. Holly just stared, and Yoongi practically felt the huff of annoyance as Holly turned around, facing the other way and showing Yoongi his back.
“Ouch, bud,” Yoongi says, “I promise you’ll get used to the hotel. Everyone here is really nice, and we’re only staying for a few days anyway.”
Yoongi noted the decided lack of response before climbing back to his feet. Well, there was no reason Holly’s bad mood had to affect him.
He headed out for the bar.
☽☾
As Yoongi walks the halls of the hotel and seeks out the bar, he takes in his surroundings. His estimate of the hotel bordering on 100 years old seems to be spot on. The walls are an unassuming light brown, seemingly yellowed from age. The ceiling doesn’t have modern lighting, instead opting for small chandeliers and wall sconces that cast the hall in a warm, incandescent light. The runner covering the hardwood floor is old, worn down in some spots from what Yoongi assumes must be hundreds of guests over the years.
Finally the hall opens up into a beautiful, large restaurant with a small bar under an alcove in the corner. Yoongi heads over to snag a spot by the bar, a small table with just enough room for he and his laptop. The place is deserted: every table is set beautifully as if awaiting a large crowd, but there’s no one around. Just Yoongi, the bartender, and a young man seated at the bar, chatting with the bartender. A kid, really, Yoongi wouldn’t believe he’s even old enough to buy a drink.
Yoongi glances over the menu on the table before making his way over to the bar. He sits with a seat between him and the young man, and waves to catch the bartender’s attention.
The bartender bounds over, and he’s easily the most upbeat person Yoongi has encountered in this place yet. He’s tall, sandy brown hair that’s kind of long, and a wide smile. His name badge just says ‘TAE’. “New face!” he grins at Yoongi, “What kind I get for you?”
Yoongi’s a bit taken aback by the energy, but places his order for dinner. “Can I have a glass of Hibiki as well?”
The bartender’s eyebrows raise. “Hibiki? Man, we haven’t had that spirit here since 1969, at least. Let me check in the back to see if we might still have a bottle.”
Yoongi watches him take his order on a slip of paper into the back, where the kitchen and storeroom were he supposed. He’s minding his own business, thinking through a plot hole he has to figure out, hopefully this evening when a throat clears quietly next to him.
The young man is angled toward him now, and if TAE was they most upbeat person he’s encountered so far, this man was, by far, the most breathtaking. Yoongi’s not one for romantic inclinations, really, but he can appreciate a good face when he sees one. Big, brown eyes, dark hair that sweeps into his eyes, cupid’s bow for a mouth, a nose that makes a bold statement and draws his whole face together.
“I haven’t seen you around here before, you must not come here often,” his turns those wide eyes on Yoongi, and his voice is lilting, sweet, sounds like he had a lisp once upon a time that he mostly grew out of.
“It’s my first night here, actually,” Yoongi responds, and he eyes this kid up and down, sizing him up, really tries to understand if he’s maybe being hit on in this hotel bar. And how he’s maybe not totally against the idea.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Yoongi watches him square his shoulders as if he’s working up the courage to go through with the whole thing; he also notices that his voice is shaking, just the slightest, and Yoongi can’t help but to tease, just a little bit.
“The bartender’s already charged me,” Yoongi holds up the receipt TAE had given him, “you’re a little late kid.”
His eyes widen and he looks flustered, obviously not expecting this turn of events. “Oh, yeah, of course, I- I mean, um-”
Yoongi takes pity on his panicking soul. “Are you trying to flirt with me?” Only a little bit of pity.
“Is it working?” He asks, and his voice is small, and dare Yoongi think, cute.
“How old are you even, kid?”
Yoongi can practically see his chest puff out, “Old enough.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrow, and this time the young man sees the up and down look Yoongi gives him, and Yoongi can’t bring himself to feel bad about that. “Old enough to drink?”
“I’m a lot older than I look,” he responds, and if Yoongi were really looking for it, he would hear the sadness in those words.
The man shakes his head slightly before extending his hand. He smiles at Yoongi and it’s cute, his two front teeth are so prominent and Yoongi’s afraid to admit he may be a bit smitten. “I’m Jungkook. Can I buy your next drink?”
☽☾
It turns out that the wi-fi in the hotel is shoddy, and Yoongi’s never able to make a stable connection. So instead of writing like he planned, he spends the evening talking with Jungkook. He’s got a charming, adorable, yet very loser-like quality. That last bit is totally not Yoongi covering for how much he likes this kid already.
Jungkook walks Yoongi back to his room, and he’s talking about how much he loves The Cranberries and how Sixpence None the Wiser was an underrated 90s band.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi laughs as the walk down the dimly lit hallway, “I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m not sure I’ve heard of either one of those bands.”
Jungkook whips his head toward him, and those big brown eyes are looking at Yoongi, and Yoongi mentally kicks himself to get a grip. “Really? Man the 90s were so good for music, I’ll have to lend you my walkman so you can hear them.”
Yoongi chokes at that. “Walkman? Are you serious?”
Jungkook shrugs, “I guess I just never upgraded. If it’s not broke, why fix it?”
“You really are something else,” Yoongi chuckles. Now that Yoongi’s piecing it all together, he’s not exactly sure why he’s surprised that Jungkook is an old soul. He’s wearing an oversized Nirvana tee with an even bigger flannel over the top. His jeans are skinny but he’s got on big, clunky combat boots, and his nails are painted black. It’s like he stepped right out of 1991.
“Well,” Jungkook seems to get bashful then, avoiding Yoongi’s eyes and rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”
His cheeks are flaming and Yoongi takes pity on him, “It was fun. Meet me for lunch tomorrow?”
Jungkook’s wide eyes snap up to him and Yoongi can’t help but smile, matching Jungkook’s scrunched face when he realizes he’s been invited to hang out again.
“Totally, I’ll meet you here at noon!”
☽☾
Yoongi meets up with Jungkook a lot of the next few days. He tries to get writing done too (he definitely opens his laptop at least once and stares at the empty document before closing it again), but mostly days are spent talking to Jungkook, being cordial to the staff in the hallways (strangely, there aren’t many other guests here? He’s fairly sure he doesn’t have any neighbors anyway.) and walking Holly on the rooftop dog spot. It’s easily the most comfortable he’s felt in quite a long while.
Perhaps that is why he didn’t notice the knocks.
The knocking starts slowly.
Slowly.
Slow.
Quiet.
Until they’re not.
Yoongi gasps a huge breath as his eyes snap open; the breath gets caught in his chest and he holds it, waiting, waiting for the noise again. His pajamas are damp from sweat and his hands are clenching the sheets below him. He stares wide-eyed at the mirrors on the ceiling above him, waiting, waiting. Maybe it’s his eyes but the mirror is dark, dark. He blinks hard a couple times, trying to blink away the shadow but it’s still there, just behind the glass of the mirror. He closes his eyes. Breathes deep. Opens them.
Nothing.
It doesn’t happen again. He lets out a shaky breath. Silly, he thinks to himself, just a nightmare. His knuckles creak as he slowly lets go of the blankets. Just then he realizes that Holly is whining next to him on the bed, stuck in his own bad dream.
He shakes him gently until he wakes with a little yip before spinning in place and nuzzling a little closer to Yoongi.
Yoongi shifts to his side, intent on going back to sleep. He glimpses the time on the bedside clock, the numbers glowing red even after he shuts his eyes. 3:09 A.M.
☽☾
The knocking doesn’t stop.
It increases in frequency, always at the outer edges of Yoongi’s mind, most of the time just quiet enough for Yoongi to doubt whether it’s actually a sound or just an illusion. His mind playing tricks on him.
Is he...is he hallucinating?
No.
It’s not real. It’s in his head. Is it? But if it’s in his head, is he...is he okay?
He mentions it to Jungkook one evening over a game of cards in the bar. “Knocking? No, can’t say I have.”
The second night it happens, he knows something isn’t right.
His eyes fly open and he lies there, still, and the knocking is so loud, bang Bang BANG Yoongi’s surprised the mirror above his bed isn’t shaking. But of course he can’t see it, because of the shadow.
It’s there, just behind the glass, a swirling miasma of the absence of light, and it’s knocking, knocking, trying to get his attention.
“Night terror,” Yoongi whispers to himself, except his lips aren’t even moving, he’s so terrified. “Sleep paralysis. Totally normal, you’re okay.” It’s not working, the talking to himself, he can’t talk himself away from that edge, can’t quiet that voice in the back of his mind that is telling him something isn’t right.
His chest hurts terribly, burning because he’s barely breathing, and finally his body has to take a huge breath, because his lungs are dying, and when he does the knocking stops. He can move again. His grip loosens from where he was white knuckling the sheets.
He glances at the clock as he waits for feeling to flow back into his limbs.
3:09 AM.
☽☾
The next evening Jungkook can’t meet for dinner, so Yoongi decides to settle in for a nice long bath. He has a small case of bath bombs in his larger luggage that’s still in the trunk of his car (which he’s very thankful that Namjoon at the front desk had it towed to the hotel free of charge, but he really should go retrieve his keys from the front desk) but the hotel has a tiny bottle of bubble bath that should do the trick.
He stops up the tub, one of those fancy ones with the claw feet, separate from the shower in his huge, fancy bathroom. The steam starts to rise all around him as he sits on the lip of the tub and waits for it to fill. His mind wanders a bit; he really should think about checking out soon, Holly is just as hostile to all the workers as he was the first day, and it’s been almost a week since he talked to Seokjin. This wouldn’t be the first time Yoongi’s dropped off the face of the earth as far as Seokjin is concerned, but a quick check-in to assure him that he’s actually alive might be courteous. He’ll check out once his week is up.
He stands to disrobe and catches his face in the mirror, the steam just beginning to fog it up around the edges. He’s looking a bit pale, a little wan these days. He rubs at his cheeks to get a bit of color into them, but it doesn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes. His cheekbones seem a little sharp; surely he hasn’t lost weight in the last few days? He makes a note to eat a big breakfast at the bar in the morning.
Yoongi’s pulling his shirt over his head when he hears it.
A faint, tiny knock.
He snatches his shirt over his head. “Fuck this,” he says, and he knows he’s being a bit silly, but he tosses his shirt over the mirror so it’s covered up.
“Take that, hallucinations,” he mumbles as he sinks into the steaming, hot water.
The water works wonders, Yoongi can already feel his muscles loosening as he settles against the back of the bathtub. He inhales slowly and lets out a soothing breath as he relaxes, and his eyes close for a bit.
Yoongi concentrates on his breathing, trying to clear his mind.
Breathe in.
Hold.
Breathe out.
Pause.
Breathe in.
Just then there’s a pounding, a hammering like someone’s trying to get in immediately.
Get in, or out.
Yoongi jumps, throwing himself forward and splashing water over the side of the tub, as he looks around frantically, breathing shallow as he tries to find the source of the knocking.
He whips around to look at the mirror, even though that’s absolutely ridiculous, and he clenches the rim of the tub when he sees it.
His shirt, pooled in the sink, definitely not on the mirror where he had draped it.
And it’s shaking.
The mirror is shaking with each deafening, thunderous knock that seems to be coming from all around him and from inside his head all at the same time.
“Fuck,” Yoongi exclaims, and he climbs gingerly out of the tub. He covers his ears to the knocking but it doesn’t stop the sounds reverbing off the inside of his head. He goes to stand in front of the mirror, unable to believe the shaking and pounding that’s happening.
He meets his own eyes in the mirror, watching their reflection tremble with the shaking, and can’t believe what’s happening right in front of him.
Just then, in the steam of the mirror, lines start to clear, as if someone were writing in the fog. Yoongi watches each letter appear with horror that’s got his feet rooted to the ground.
qoɈƧ appears letter by letter, but it’s backwards. Like, Yoongi realizes, it was being written from the inside of the mirror. Yoongi throws himself away from the mirror, stumbling and landing on his ass on the other side of the bathroom before clamoring to his feet and out the door.
Not in my head, not in my head, not in my head, Yoongi thinks frantically as he rushes into his room, looking for pants to put on.
“Holly,” he shouts, and Holly had been ignoring him for the last few days, refusing to listen to any command Yoongi gave him. Until now, that is, and Holly appears at his side, as if he’s been waiting for Yoongi to come to this conclusion so they can leave.
He doesn’t stop to grab anything except his phone, throwing on a tee shirt and scooping Holly up in one motion. He runs out of his room, the walnut door shutting behind him but he stops so abruptly he almost throws himself to the ground.
This isn’t the same hotel. The old hotel was charming, if not a little aged and yellowed, but this place…
Yoongi looks around himself and can’t believe what he’s seeing. The hallway is in shambles: the wallpaper is peeling in stips and Yoongi can see dank, black mold creeping along the ceiling and floorboards. The chandeliers from before are replaced with singular, flickering incandescent bulbs. Yoongi gasps only to immediately choke on the stench that reaches his nose. The smell of rot and damp turns his stomach and he gags.
“Fuck,” he whimpers. He covers his mouth and sprints for the front desk. He keeps his eyes trained forward and doesn’t look at all the mirrors that have appeared on the walls, ignores their pounding and shaking, the shadows in them that he can just glimpse out of the corner of his eye.
Finally, finally he makes it to the lobby, and there’s Namjoon, wearing his blue uniform and bellboy cap that he was wearing when Yoongi first checked in. Namjoon smiles pleasantly at him and Yoongi wants to scream because how does he not see?
“Keys,” Yoongi demands, “I need the keys to my car.” He’s panting and he’s positive he’s broadcasting Panic ! But Namjoon is acting like everything is fine.
“Checking out already, Yoongi? Can’t I put you down for another week?” Namjoon’s smile is wide, so so wide, but his eyes are empty, oblivious.
“No, I need to leave now, please give me my keys Namjoon.”
Only then does Namjoon’s smile falter. “I can’t do that, Yoongi. You know I can’t do that.” Through this entire conversation Namjoon’s wide smile hasn’t slipped at all.
Holly is squirming in Yoongi’s arms and growling at Namjoon and Yoongi just needs to leave, now . “Namj—”
“So another week at Hotel Asphodel?” Namjoon ignores him and starts typing into the computer and Yoongi can see that it’s not even on, the screen is black, and this charade has gone on long enough.
“Give me my fucking keys, Namjoon,” Yoongi explodes.
At the outburst Namjoon finally looks up. He’s still smiling but there’s a miserable look in his eyes. “Sure,” he says, digging into the desk in front of him to retrieve Yoongi’s keys. “I’ll give you your keys, Yoongi, I won’t stop you from checking out.”
Yoongi just snatches the keys dangling from his fingers before making a beeline for the front door. He hears Namjoon say quietly “But you can never leave.”
Fucking ridiculous, Yoongi thinks to himself. He clutches Holly closer to his chest when he throws open the front door. He can see his car already, sitting like a beacon in the pale moonlight; he steps from the hotel and an overwhelming darkness settles over him. Yoongi blacks out.
☽☾
Yoongi comes to on his bed, darkness surrounding him. He gasps, shooting straight up in bed and takes in his surroundings.
It’s all the same: the hotel is dilapidated, falling apart around him and there he is in the center, where he was before, as if everything hadn’t happened.
“No,” Yoongi whispers, this can’t be right, he refuses to believe it. Holly is there beside him, asleep, obviously still under whatever magic or curse brought them back here.
He spots his keys on the bedside table next to the clock, glaring red in the darkness. 3:09 AM.
“Fuck, no,” Yoongi’s voice is shaky, reedy, and his body is trembling.
He takes his keys, picks up Holly, and runs for the emergency exit.
As soon as he steps foot outside, the darkness returns.
☽☾
The third time he doesn’t really have a plan. After waking up at 3:09 AM for the third time, he frantically runs down the hallway looking for an alternative exit somewhere, anywhere. This time the lights have been blown out of the hallway, and he’s running blindly, carrying Holly in his arms. He’s panicking, breaths coming in sharp gasps as he shakes, thinking of who he can ask for help.
His phone has no service, so Seokjin is out of the question, and he refuses to ask anyone who works in this hellhole, none of them can be trusted.
But.
Jungkook.
Yoongi kicks himself for never visiting Jungkook in his room, because now he realizes he has no idea where it is. Panic has gripped his mind, and he’s beyond formulating any kind of cohesive plan, so he finds himself sprinting down the hallways, calling desperately for Jungkook.
“Jungkook,” he screams at the top of his lungs, but nothing, nothing but that incessant knocking from behind the mirrors. He tries again.
Then he hears it.
“Yoongi!” Jungkook calls, and his voice is floating from down another dark hallway, around the corner from where Yoongi is now.
Jungkook calls again, “Yoongi, I’m here!” And his voice is high, wavering, a quality that almost hurts Yoongi’s ears and echoes in his head.
He sprints toward the voice, and Yoongi would believe that the hallway is getting longer, longer, interminable but finally, finally he’s so close, Jungkook is right around that corner.
Just then, a hand closes grips the back of Yoongi’s shirt and yanks him violently. Yoongi stumbles into a room, and is thrown against the wall, a hand pressing against his mouth to stifle his scream.
It’s Jungkook.
“Don’t go, Yoongi, I heard the voice too,” he whispers. “It wasn’t me.”
☽☾
“What the fuck is going on,” Yoongi says, sliding down the wall into a crouch. “What the fuck, what the fuck.”
“It’s the hotel,” Jungkook explains, “I don’t know how it does it, but it keeps you here.” He plops onto the floor in front of Yoongi, and Yoongi thinks he looks awfully relaxed for a situation like this.
Yoongi looks at Jungkook disbelievingly. Just then, Holly comes to, and immediately upon seeing Jungkook leaps from Yoongi’s arms and growls at Jungkook.
Yoongi processes it all quickly then, thinking of all the other times Holly has growled at people; growled at Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, always on the verge of attacking.
Or protecting.
Jungkook can see the minute Yoongi puts it together, can track Yoongi’s eyes as he takes in Jungkook’s attire tonight: oversized tee and flannel, combat boots, long hair that curls around the nape of his neck.
“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi says under his breath, “Jungkook, how long have you been here?”
Jungkook sighs, knowing he’s been found out. “I dropped out of school to try to hitchhike to Hollywood. There were so many good bands, making it big, you know. If Kurt Cobain could do it so could I, right?”
Yoongi stared at him, wide-eyed.
“I left home the day after New Year’s,” Jungkook whispers, finally looking Yoongi in his eyes, “1992.”
Yoongi chokes, reality squeezing around his throat, a real and visceral fear ripping through him. “You’ve been here almost thirty years,” Yoongi’s voice is gritty, rough, disbelief strangling his vocal cords.
“Every exit brings you back to your room,” Jungkook explains. “It seems like I find a new hallway or stairwell every week, and every single one brings me back here.”
Yoongi manages to quiet Holly, bringing him back to his arms, “Am I,” he asks quietly, “Am I the first new person you’ve seen here?”
“Far from it,” Jungkook says, “Many people check in, but usually the hotel gets to them after a while and they lose it. They…” Jungkook trails off and Yoongi understands what he’s avoiding saying.
After a moment of tense silence, Yoongi asks “How do I know I can trust you? You’re part of the hotel too, you hang out with Taehyung and Jimin, talk to Namjoon and Hoseok regularly.”
Jungkook sighs, “I’ve been here thirty years. Was I not supposed to make friends? They’re stuck too, Yoongi,” Jungkook says. “Taehyung’s been here since the 70s, Hoseok and Jimin came together in the 50s. None of us know how long Namjoon’s been here.”
Yoongi doesn’t look convinced.
“After a while you get tired of trying to find a way out. So you just, go with the flow.”
“So what does that mean, Jungkook?” Yoongi says, “All those evening we spent together? Rooftop walks? Those were just excuses to pass the time? Have fun with the new hostage?” Yoongi looks at Jungkook imploringly, hoping desperately that he won’t confirm what he’s been afraid of.
“Yoongi, no, I—” Jungkook starts. Yoongi watches him struggle with his next words, but he’s completely caught off guard when Jungkook suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against his own. Yoongi jerks back, eyes wide.
“Sorry,” Jungkook says quickly, “I must’ve misread—”
Just then Yoongi leans forward and catches Jungkook’s lips between his, gripping the front of his shirt and smooshing Holly between them. He sighs into the kiss when Jungkook starts kissing him back.
“You didn’t misread,” Yoongi says as he pulls back, “but god is your timing the absolute worst.”
☽☾
When they return to Yoongi’s room, the clock glows 3:09 AM. They sit as they formulate a plan; Yoongi refuses to stay here another night, even at Jungkook’s insistence that every exit he’s found has brought him right back.
“Have you ever fought back?” Yoongi asks, sitting cross-legged on his bed across from Jungkook. Holly is still not sold on Jungkook not being the enemy, but he’s stopped growling for the time being.
“No, but I’ve seen others try it.” Jungkook says, “Once the hotel knows you’re trying to hurt it, it tries to take you out first.”
Yoongi pales a little at the thought, but he plows on, “Well, I’m not staying here. We can’t stay here.” Jungkook looks at Yoongi with those wide, wide eyes and Yoongi doesn’t comment on the red rimming them.
“No one’s tried to rescue me before,” Jungkook says quietly.
“Well, I’m leaving and I’m not leaving you, so.” Yoongi says. “And if...if the hotel eats me in the process of escaping then...at least I’ll know I’ll have tried.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying,” Jungkook whispers.
“It’s me or the hotel.”
“Okay,” Jungkook whispers resolutely, “Okay. Me too. Let’s get it.”
☽☾
Their plan goes like this: Taehyung shouldn’t be at the bar right now, so Jungkook will sneak into the kitchen and turn on all the industrial gas stoves. Then he’ll meet Yoongi carrying all of Taehyung’s clear--and highly flammable--liquor. Yoongi will take care of the 3rd and 4th floors, while Jungkook does the 2nd floor and lights the gas fire on the ground floor. Once everything is on fire they’ll rendezvous at the fire escape on the 2nd floor before jumping to safety, and hopefully, freedom.
“Are you sure you understand,” Yoongi asks one last time, Holly swaddled to his back like a baby with one of the hotel blankets. (Jungkook had had a good laugh about that one, but it was the only way to make sure Holly was safe.)
“Kinda late for that, the gas stoves have been leaking for almost an hour.” Jungkook shuffles an armful of vodka and everclear to Yoongi along with a pack of matches he’s had with him since he arrived at the hotel.
“Humor me,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook smiles a bit. True, they’re maybe about to actually die, but Jungkook can’t help but smile at Yoongi.
“I’ll meet you at the fire escape on the 2nd floor once we’re done with our floors.”
Yoongi nods.
“Okay,” Yoongi says, suddenly serious. “See you soon.”
“See you soon,” Jungkook responds and suddenly he’s swooping in and pressing an insistent kiss to Yoongi’s lips. “See you soon.”
☽☾
From there, Yoongi is almost amazed at how similar the process is to what he’s seen in movies. He absolutely douses the hallway in alcohol, soaks the carpet, tosses it on the old, stripping wallpaper. Once he’s at the end he lights a match and tosses it, and just like that it catches. It doesn’t explode like the movies, but climbs almost slowly, encompassing everything he even touched with the alcohol, burning bright and orange.
Just then Yoongi notices a mounting shriek, one that rattles his brain, and he panics before he realises it’s the hotel. The wailing and groaning is coming from the walls surrounding him, and he figures he doesn’t have much longer before it either collapses on him or they make their jump.
He carries the rest of his alcohol to the next floor down, repeating the process and watching it go up in flames. He’s not exactly sure where everyone else is but part of him hopes they’re also able to jump to safety.
Finally he arrives at the meeting point, where Jungkook is supposed to be. The 2nd floor is already fiercely burning by the time he gets to the window that leads to the fire escape, but Jungkook’s nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly there’s a loud roar, a proper explosion, and Yoongi figures that must be gas stoves. Jungkook should be getting there soon then, that was the final step: light the stoves, meet Yoongi at the meeting point.
The flames are encroaching to Yoongi’s safe spot, and he flinches as the ceiling caves not far from him, sending sparks flying. They were supposed to be long gone before it got this bad, they weren’t supposed to be in this much danger. Holly squirms at his back as Yoongi paces, covering his face from the flames, and Yoongi realizes he has to make a decision.
Jungkook was supposed to be here minutes ago, and if Yoongi stays much longer he may not even be able to get out. He looks out the window, at the fire escape, and he can almost taste his freedom.
But Jungkook.
Yoongi takes a deep breath before descending the stairs to find Jungkook.
It doesn’t take long to spot his body, knocked aside like a ragdoll by what appears to be a building beam. The flames are surrounding him on all sides, and Yoongi feels his blood run cold through his veins.
“Jesus, Jungkook!” Yoongi screams as fights his way over. He throws a burning 2 by 4 out of the way, the flames singeing his skin.
“Yoongi,” Jungkook says weakly, and Yoongi is so so grateful that he’s still conscious, “You came back.”
“Of course I did,” Yoongi says while he helps lift Jungkook, leaning on him heavily when Yoongi wraps his arm around his shoulder.
“Didn’t have to,” Jungkook rasps, “Could’ve jumped without me.”
“Not leaving you,” Yoongi grunts as he makes his way slowly to exit. The front doors are all destroyed, completely blocked off by burning debris, so Yoongi slowly, painstakingly climbs back to the 2nd floor fire escape.
But when he gets there he realizes the hotel isn’t done with its tricks.
“Jungkook, where are we?” Yoongi asks as he realizes that this isn’t where he thought the stairwell would put him. Everything is still burning, the walls still wailing, but the hallway is different, Yoongi doesn’t know where he is. “Jungkook, hey, are you still with me? Can you tell me the way out of here?”
Jungkook opens his eyes slightly, slowly taking in where he is. He nods gingerly, “That way.”
It would seem that the hotel is throwing every last trick at them that it can. They make so many twists and turns that Yoongi’s sure they’re just getting more lost. Jungkook, stumbling and growing paler and paler with each step keeps pointing out the correct path.
Finally, finally, Yoongi spots a red EXIT sign over a window, and that has to be the fire escape. “Jungkook,” Yoongi exclaims, “that’s it, that’s the exit!”
Two things happen simultaneously. Jungkook sighs and his legs give out from under him as unconsciousness overtakes him. “Fuck,” Yoongi yelps as Jungkook starts to slump like dead weight out of his arms. At the same time the floor beneath them gives a terrible creak and Yoongi watches with horror as it starts dropping down the hall from them. Yoongi’s not sure if it’s the fire or a last ditch effort from the hotel to take them out, but he has only a few seconds to get them to safety before the floor drops them into the fiery inferno below.
Later, Yoongi may attribute the sudden strength to the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but he manages to drag Jungkook’s limp body to the window. He jams his elbow through the glass before crawling his own body gingerly through. He hears some of Jungkook’s clothes catch on a shard of glass still left in the frame, but Yoongi figures that’s not worse than literal burning to death.
Yoongi pulls Jungkook through the window out onto the fire escape slowly, inch by inch until he’s almost out. He puts all the last of his energy into pulling the last of him over the sill, but suddenly Jungkook is blasted forward with an invisible force.
“Fuck,” Yoongi exclaims wildly as he tries to course correct, tries to regain his balance but his foot slips and he feels himself wheeling backwards, over the rail. “No, no, no!” He’s tipping over, over, over the edge, still clutching at Jungkook desperately and Holly strapped to his back.
Yoongi remembers the whooshing of air by his ears as he plummets.
Then darkness.
☽☾
The first thing Yoongi notices is that he’s definitely not in bed. It’s much too hard; actually he’s fairly sure he’s on the ground.
The next thing is the bright sun beaming down on him.
The third is Holly yipping at his side.
Suddenly, there’s something eclipsing the sun from his vision, throwing his face into shadow. Yoongi blinks until his eyes focus, and he smiles when he sees a familiar smile, long hair in need of a haircut draping around his big, beautiful brown eyes and puckered, rabbit-like smile.
“We did it.” Jungkook smiles down at him, giddiness bubbling just beneath the surface of his voice, “We got out.”
“Shit,” Yoongi groans, “I can’t believe we actually did it.” He closes his eyes again for a second, taking time to process.
“We did.” Jungkook giggles at him.
Yoongi opens his eyes again, and he stares at Jungkook. At this amazing mystery boy that’s essentially a time traveller, this boy who saved his life, whose life he saved, his companion in a wild story that he’s positive Seokjin’s not going to believe when he explains why he’s been unreachable for two weeks.
“Shit, Seokjin,” Yoongi says quietly; he pats his pockets and discovers both his cell phone and his keys. He sits up and finds that he and Jungkook are literally lying in the tan, dry desert dirt not far from the road. Yoongi looks around and there’s no trace at all of the hotel that held them prisoner, but there is Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung standing even further away, talking amongst themselves.
Yoongi sits for a minute, chewing his lip and looking at Jungkook. This whole thing has been...absolutely unbelievable. Literally no one is going to believe what happened.
But at least he’s got a good idea for his next manuscript.
If he squints he thinks he can see his car parked down the road, right where he left it.
He turns to Jungkook. “Hey,” he says, eyes lidded and smiling a bit as he runs his fingers through the hair at the nape of Jungkook’s neck. He pulls him in for a well-deserved kiss, breathing slowly and deeply through it, pressing hard.
“Hey.” Jungkook responds when they break apart, voice winded.
“What do you say,” Yoongi says as he takes Jungkook’s hand in his, tangling their fingers together, “you finish up this road trip with me, huh?”
He hauls himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as he convinces his limbs to start operating again. He throws his hand down to help Jungkook to his feet too.
Jungkook smiles at him, light catching and reflecting in his eyes.
“Lead the way.”