Chapter Text
There are times when Yoongi desperately wishes that things were different. That this wasn’t his life. That he didn’t have so much blood on his hands. That he could hit some magic reset button and go all the way back to square one. If only it were that easy.
The scene is all too familiar. The black-haired man is knocking on the door of his dongsaeng’s apartment in the early hours of the morning, one hand clutching his side in pain as he waits for an answer. Soon enough, the door swings open, and he stumbles inside.
Namjoon shuts the door behind him, looking over his shoulder with his trademark disapproving stare. “Again, hyung? Really?”
Yoongi trudges over to the younger’s fridge, pain flaring up the entire right side of his torso. He’s aware he looks like absolute shit, face marred by countless cuts and bruises. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect them to fight back so much.” He grabs a can of beer and slowly turns to take a seat at the dining table, wincing the entire time. Fucking hell. Hopefully, nothing is broken.
Namjoon crosses the room in quick, easy strides and wrenches the beer from his hand with a sigh. “You called out an entire family under you for embezzling money and you expected them to just take it lying down?” He shoves a bottle of water into the elder’s empty hand, moving to rifle through the cabinets for a first aid kit.
The knuckles on his right hand are busted and bleeding, so Yoongi holds the bottle against his chest with his elbow, using his good hand to open it. “They were under us. They knew beating the shit out of me would- will have consequences.” He breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the cool water runs down his dry throat.
The younger sets the first aid kit on the table in front of them and pulls out the chair beside Yoongi. “And who’s going to deliver those consequences? You?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. “You can barely stand.”
He shakes his head, offering Namjoon his injured hand when the younger reaches toward him with a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. “No, I’ll get Jungkook on their case or some shit. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out later.” He hisses in pain when the cotton makes contact with his skin, tears springing to his eyes before he can stop it.
Namjoon smirks as he holds the cotton pad down with his thumb while he reaches for the gauze. “I’ll always find it funny how Mr. Big Scary Mob Boss cries over a little antiseptic.”
“I’m not fucking crying, asshole.” Yoongi fires back, shutting his eyes tightly as the younger begins to wrap his knuckles snugly in gauze.
“Mhmm, sure.” The brunette snips the end of the dressing with scissors, checking the bandage to make sure it’s not tight enough to be cutting off circulation. “You planning on staying the night here?”
“You know I can’t go home looking like this, Joon-ah.”
“So you’re just going to crash here until your face doesn’t look like it got shoved through a meat grinder in like… two weeks from now?”
Yoongi sighs, “Of course not.”
“You could always just tell him.”
“You know it’s not that easy.”
Namjoon looks him in the eye, running a freshly dampened cotton pad over the plethora of cuts and bruises littering the elder’s face. “You’ve been saying that shit for two years, hyung. You know just as well as I do how dangerous it is for him to not know anything.”
“Namjoon-ah, he can’t know. I refuse to drag him down into this life too.”
I would never forgive myself if I ruined his life too.
The younger sighs, looking away as a dejected look overtakes his face. “Right, sorry. I understand.” He forces a smile on his face when he turns back to face the elder but it clearly doesn’t reach his eyes. “Take your shirt off. I have to make sure you didn’t break any ribs.”
Joon-ah, I’m so fucking sorry. This is all my fault.
“Sometimes I really wonder why I put up with you.”
*****
It’s late, bordering on 11:30. Jimin looks down longingly at his phone on the coffee table. Yoongi should’ve been home hours ago, and, to make matters even worse, there’s been nothing but radio silence from him. Dinner sits on the dining table, cold and untouched. The blonde hasn’t even changed out of his clothes for the day.
Where is he?
He’s all alone, his best friend and partner in crime Taehyung having gone to bed over an hour ago. The minuscule tasks he’d set about doing since then had done little to distract his mind. He’d unloaded the dishwasher, started on two loads of laundry, and cleaned up the living room. In the end, he’d been left feeling even more anxious than he had been to begin with, but at least he wouldn’t have as many chores to spend Sunday doing.
Fifteen more minutes. Fifteen more minutes and he’ll go to bed… is what he decided on about half an hour ago. This happens too often, at least once a week, but Yoongi always sends a message saying not to wait up for him. This time though? Nothing. It’s never been like this before. If he wasn’t coming home until the early hours of the morning, or just not coming home in general, he’d always let Jimin know. Always.
Jimin checks the time once more, finding only two minutes have passed. With a sigh, the blonde heaves himself up from the couch, deciding on throwing in the towel and going to bed. He’d already left a note beside the food for his boyfriend to find whenever he does come home.
The bed is cold and lonely as Jimin stares up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. It’s hard for him to close his eyes without the usual warmth of his boyfriend’s arms holding him close or the feeling of holding the man he loves in his own arms. He reaches over to Yoongi’s side of the bed and grabs his pillow, squeezing it to his chest with a frighteningly strong grip. The scent of the black-haired man’s shampoo fills his nose, a small ounce of comfort despite his amounting worry. Maybe he should’ve called, sent a text, or done anything to trigger a response from his MIA boyfriend. Oh well, he’ll be here in the morning. He can just ask him where he went then.
Eight hours later and there was still no sign of Yoongi. He wasn’t in bed when Jimin woke up, his shoes were absent from their spot beside the door, and there was still no word from him. The blonde was sat at their dining room table, staring at the front door of the apartment and desperately hoping for it to open. The slew of KKT messages he’d sent his boyfriend earlier in the morning were all unanswered. He’d even attempted calling him at least five times, and still...absolutely nothing.
Jimin slumps forward to lean on the table, resting his head in his arms. For hours last night, he’d tossed and turned as he tried to sleep. He’d only managed about four or five hours of asleep as evidenced by the dark circles under his eyes. At least today was one of his days off, and his students wouldn’t have to suffer due to his lack of sleep. He glances over his arm to check his phone again. If only it were lit up with an unread message that explains where the hell Yoongi has been all night, but, instead, the black screen is practically laughing at him.
What if something happened to him? What if he’s hurt?
The way they had met definitely wasn’t what one would call normal or conventional. Jimin had found himself stuck in the waiting area of the emergency room after dance practice his junior year of university, nursing a swollen, and most likely sprained, ankle. His dance partner had personally driven and dropped him off, despite the blonde’s protests that he was fine. He could barely put any weight on it without throbbing flashes of pain, but he was convinced he’d be able to sleep it off. He couldn’t just sit out of practice for two weeks. Their entire grade was depending on their joint performance. His phone sat uselessly on the arm of his chair, except to show exactly how long he’s been sitting here… almost an hour.
A man who seemed to be around his age walked through the sliding doors, taking a seat in one of the only empty chairs, right next to Jimin. He looked very handsome, but his face was marred by numerous cuts and bruises. His right eye was completely swollen shut, his lip busted, and his nose was a dark mixture of blue and purple across its bridge.
“I hope the other guy looks worse,” Jimin said before he could stop himself. Awesome, his brain to mouth filter was off on vacation or something. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean-”
The man ran a hand through his hair with a quiet laugh, his knuckles bruised. Oddly, he didn’t seem to be in any pain despite the fact that it looked he got steamrolled. “It’s fine. I probably look like shit, huh?”
Jimin nodded hesitantly. The man laughs again, his shoulders bouncing up and down adorably. The blonde closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Why is he so cute?
“Yeah, the other guy got the jump on me. I got in a few good kicks to the ribs, so... hopefully that did something.” The stranger glanced over at Jimin, his eyes landing on his ankle secured in an ACE wrap. “What happened to you? Why are you in here?”
“Oh, uh…” Jimin looked down at his ankle, attempting to move it into a more comfortable position. Pain shot up his leg almost instantly. “Goddamnit.” He muttered under his breath. “I’m here because I sprained my ankle or something during practice.”
“Practice?”
“I’m a dancer.”
“Ah, I see.” The man said with a polite nod. “My best friend is a dancer too. He raised hell when he got banned from practice after he got hurt, so I hope you’re not out for too long.”
“I hope so too. We have a competition coming up soon.”
By the time Jimin’s name was finally called, he and the man had been talking for at least half an hour. The dancer carefully stood, favoring his good leg, and headed towards the nurse who had called for him. “Hey, wait, uh… Jimin?”
The blonde turned around to face the man again, slightly surprised the man knew his name before realizing he’d probably heard it when the nurse called. “Yes?”
“Can I get your number before you go?”
A hint of a playful smirk crept onto his face before he can stop himself. “Why would I give you my number if you haven’t even told me your name?”
“It’s Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”
The familiar sound of the front door to their apartment swinging open startles Jimin out of his thoughts, jerking his head up at the noise. He doesn’t even have enough time to get to his feet before his boyfriend makes his way inside, softly shutting the door behind him. Their eyes meet the second Yoongi turns around. There’s something different about him that the blonde can’t place. He looks way too good for eight in the morning, not that Yoongi doesn’t always look good, but something is… off somehow. Each strand of his ebony hair is in perfect order, and his skin looks flawless. Is he wearing makeup?
“Hey, baby,” Yoongi says, a shy smile overtaking his face. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early.”
I wouldn’t be if you’d actually come home last night. Where the hell were you?
“Wh-”
The question he was about to ask dies on his lips when Yoongi sighs.“I’m really sorry, Jiminie.” He crosses the room in short strides, wrapping the younger up in his arms with a gentle, but firm squeeze. “Something came up and Namjoon needed me. I should’ve told you.”
Jimin hugs him back tightly, relishing in the fact that he finally has his favorite person back in his arms. To him, little else matters. “It’s okay. I understand.” He should be angry. Yoongi’s absence is inexcusable, but… the younger just doesn’t have it in him. It’s way too early in the morning, and he’s had way too little sleep for such emotional depth.
Yoongi pulls back to look up at him, rubbing a gentle thumb across his cheek as he cups his face. “You look tired, baby. You should go back to bed.”
“But it’s Saturday…” Jimin whines.
“Exactly, we don’t have anything to do today. You need sleep. You’ve been working a lot of overtime lately.”
Jimin can’t help but smile at his boyfriend’s thoughtfulness. He’s been spending at least two extra hours at work every other day, trying as hard as possible to give his all to his students. “I know, hyung. I haven’t been meaning to stay late, but I just can’t figure out what to do for this one song’s choreography.”
Yoongi leans down, capturing the younger’s lips in a short and sweet kiss. “I know, baby. I understand.” He takes a tender hold of Jimin’s hand and leads them towards their bedroom.
The blonde watches Yoongi as he walks, noting that something seems off about it. It looks like he’s limping… ever so slightly. “Hyung, are you okay? Did something happen?”
The elder turns around, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “What do you mean?”
“You’re limping, baby. Did you hurt yourself?”
Yoongi turns away with a wince, lightly tugging on Jimin’s hand for him to continue walking. “No, I’m fine.” He’s clearly paying attention to the way he’s walking now, going much slower than before to pay close attention to his steps. The limp that was previously there is gone now. He lets go of Jimin the second they step through the doorway. “Lay down, baby. I’ll be there in a second.”
Jimin does as he’s told and curls up in bed, feeling just as cold as he was when he’d first tried to sleep only a few hours prior. The sheets around him, which are usually warm and cozy, are anything but.
Yoongi’s gone off into their connected bathroom with a change of clothes. Something is definitely wrong. Neither of them ever leave the room to change. They’ve both already seen everything anyway. The door to the bathroom opens, and Yoongi emerges, crossing the room quickly to lay down next to Jimin.
“Yoongi-hyung, are you sure everything’s okay?” The younger asks, scooting closer as his boyfriend climbs under the covers.
“I’m fine, Jimin-ah. I promise.” He presses a soft kiss to Jimin’s forehead.
The blonde smiles despite everything, reaching over to wrap an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. Yoongi flinches the second Jimin’s arm comes in contact with his torso, his face contorting in pain. “Hyung?” Jimin asks, instantly moving away with eyes alight with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Jiminie.” The elder replies, gently tugging Jimin’s arm back to rest across his waist again. “You just surprised me is all.”
Surprise doesn’t usually equal legitimate pain.
“Are you sure? If something’s going on, you know you can always tell me.”
Yoongi smiles down at him. “I’m sure, baby. You should sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Will you though?
*****
“Yoongi-hyung, you’re lying, right? Please tell me you’re lying.”
“Hoseok-ah, I thought you made me promise not to lie to you.”
“You want me to what?” Jungkook asks, staring at Yoongi like he had grown two extra heads or something. To be fair, he had just asked him to do something a bit insane.
It’s early Monday morning, and Jungkook is sat across from the elder at his desk. “I want you to take out someone in a high position in the Choi family.” Yoongi repeats.
“I’m confused…” The younger says, running a hand through his hair with a questioning look on his face. “I thought they were under us.”
“They were, but they retaliated when I called them out on their embezzling.”
Jungkook’s eyes go as wide as saucers, his tone showing his clear surprise. “Oh shit, hyung. You did?”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Thousands of dollars went missing and you expected me to what? Look the other way?”
“No, I just- I don’t know.” He glances around the office wildly, clearly avoiding Yoongi’s eyes. “Are they the ones who beat you up?”
“Huh?”
“You’re wearing makeup.” The younger says, pointing to a visible bottle of foundation on the elder’s desk. “You usually only wear it to cover up bruises and shit.”
Yoongi sighs, chucking the bottle into one of his desk’s drawers. “They got a couple of good hits in. That’s all.”
“A couple of good hits doesn’t usually equal you pulling out foundation, hyung.”
The elder rolls his eyes. Jungkook isn’t wrong, but God he wishes he was. “Whatever. Are you going to be able to do what I asked you to?”
Jungkook grins, “Of course. Have I ever failed?”
“No, you haven’t.” Yoongi sighs.
Jungkook is too young for this. He’s only four years younger than him, but twenty-one is still way too young to be a hitman for one of Seoul’s biggest and most influential crime families. If only he wasn’t insanely good at what he does. The number of names Yoongi has given him is almost in the hundreds at this point. Every time, Jungkook gets the job done. No questions asked. The partnership between the Jeons and the Mins go years back, long before Yoongi was forced to take over as head of the family. When the time came for him to decide on a hitman, the choice was obvious.
“Does it matter who or…?”
The elder shakes his head. “It doesn’t. Just someone high up enough that they get the message not to fuck with us again. They’re lucky I don’t just have you take them all out.”
“Alright, gotcha, anything else?”
“No, that’s it.”
“It might take me a little longer than usual since I never had to look into the Chois before,” Jungkook says, rising from his chair.
“That’s fine. I know you’ll get it done.”
The younger makes his way to the door of Yoongi’s office. “Yep, you know the drill. If something comes up, I’ll call you.”
Yoongi gives him a quick nod just before he takes his leave, letting the door to the office fall softly shut behind him. The man leans back in his chair, resting his feet on the desk in front of him as he stares up at the ceiling. Twenty-five years old and he single-handedly runs one of the biggest drug cartels in the entire city, hell, the entire country. He has an insane amount of blood on his hands, both directly and indirectly, not to mention the number of illegal substances he’s responsible for trafficking.
His eyes fall from the expanse of white above him to a picture frame settled in the corner of his desk. A bright, smiling face stares back at him, and Yoongi can’t help the tiny hint of a smile that sneaks onto his face.
It’s been two years, Hoseok-ah. I miss you so fucking much.
He leans forward in his seat and takes the picture in his hands, gently tracing the edges of his friend’s face on the glass. Would you be proud of me?
The man snorts to himself, almost embarrassed that he’d even to think to ask that. He sets the frame back on his desk, spinning around in his chair to face the back wall. No, you wouldn’t.
*****
“That was really good, Yeonjun-ah,” Jimin says, handing his student a chilled water bottle fresh from the mini-fridge in the corner of the practice room. “That one part you said you were having trouble with was really clean too. Good job.”
The boy collapses to the floor, breathing heavily. “Thanks, hyung.” He rolls onto his side with a groan. “God, I’m so tired.”
Jimin smiles as the boy catches his breath. Yeonjun’s never been the type to not put his all into anything he does. He’d originally asked for help on a part he was struggling with, but the boy ended up running through the entire song three times in a row with only so much as a two-minute break in between each run. It reminds the blonde of the way he used to be just two years ago in university, pushing himself through endless runs until his body was screaming at him to rest.
“You should go home then. Get some rest. You guys have whole group practice pretty early in the morning.”
Yeonjun groans again, curling himself into a ball on the floor. “Please don’t remind me, hyung. I’m just ready to debut already.”
Jimin crouches down to ruffle the boy’s hair, not minding how damp it is. The chestnut brown locks flow through his fingers seamlessly. “You’ve still got three months before then. Just a little bit longer.”
“It’s already been four years.” The boy says with a quiet laugh. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”
“Look at it this way. You’ve held out for that long. Just a few more months is nothing.”
Yeonjun’s been his student since the Jimin had started working for the company. The other dance teacher had too many obligations to choreograph for groups both in and outside of the company and needed someone to help cover mentoring for some of the trainees. He remembers the first day he’d come to work, just a few months fresh off of graduating university, scared out of his mind that he wouldn’t be any good at this. Yeonjun had met him in one of the practice rooms early that morning, saying he was eager to learn as much as possible from him. It’s been a little under two years since then, and Jimin’s loved coming to work every day since then.
Yeonjun sits up with a smile. “You’re right, hyung. I’ve got this. I can probably even run the song again.”
Jimin can’t help but laugh. “No, you’re done for the day. You need a break. You’ve been going almost nonstop for two hours.”
“Fine,” Yeonjun flops back down with a pout. “Sleep does sound nice right now though.”
The blonde gently nudges the boy in the side with his foot. “Not on the floor.”
“But it’s so comfortable here.” He groans when Jimin nudges him in the side again. “Just give me five more minutes and then I’ll get up.”
“What happened to being able to go again?”
Yeonjun waves his hand in the air aimlessly. “I said probably.”
“Right…” Jimin says with a quiet laugh as he grabs his dance bag off the floor. “Do you want anything from the cafeteria? Hyung’ll buy.”
As if he was instantly recharged, the boy sits up from his position on the floor. “Really?”
“Unless you’re planning on getting one of everything, yeah.”
“Aww, but I’m really really hungry, hyung.” He pouts.
“Let’s go get something to eat then.” The blonde says, offering the boy a hand to help him up.
Yeonjun crosses the room to grab his things while Jimin heads over to the speaker to disconnect his phone. A message from his boyfriend lights up the screen. Do you know what you want for dinner, baby? He sighs as he hits the power button so the text disappears from his view. Things have been weird lately. Yoongi had obviously apologized for his weird disappearance, and they’ve moved on from the incident. Every night though, without fail, Jimin finds himself questioning whether or not his boyfriend will come home. It’s only been a few days, not even a full week, but all of his worrying seemed to be needless. Yoongi has come home every night since then, a little earlier than usual too.
I should probably still say something though… Maybe ask if something is wrong at work.
“You ready to go, hyung?” Yeonjun asks, knocking Jimin out of his thoughts.
“Oh, uh… yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
The boy leads the way down the hall towards the elevator, singing some random, made-up song about meat being God because of how hungry he is that manages to make Jimin smile again. He reaches into his pocket for his phone and replies to his boyfriend. No, whatever you want is fine, hyung.
*****
The apartment is quiet with only Yoongi home. Dinner for tonight is simple bibimmyeon with fried pork belly, one of their classic go tos for when neither he or Jimin can decide on exactly what they want. The pork still has a couple of minutes left in the pan before it’s done when he hears the front door to the apartment open. He sets his cooking chopsticks down to meet his boyfriend at the door, finding the dancer in the process of taking his shoes off. “Hi, baby.” He greets when Jimin finally kicks them off and places them in their rightful spot on the shoe rack next to the door.
“Hey, hyung,” Jimin replies with a smile, leaning in for a quick kiss. He sniffs the air as he leans back, an action that Yoongi can’t help but find adorable. “Are you cooking something?”
“Yeah, is bibimmyeon and pork okay?”
“That sounds great, hyung. I’m really hungry.” He gives Yoongi a quick kiss on the cheek before heading in the direction of their bedroom. “I’m going to change before we eat.”
“Alright, the pork probably still has a few minutes left anyway.” Yoongi makes his way back into the kitchen. Just like he’d thought, the meat still needs a little longer on the stove before it’s done. He takes a seat at the dining table, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He’s used to cooking with Jimin koalaing him from behind. It’s strange not to have his boyfriend clinging to him. In the moment, he’d usually complain about how cooking is much more difficult with someone else’s limbs squeezing the life out of you. Somehow, it’s almost lonely being by himself in the kitchen. Jimin is only a few feet away, but it doesn’t feel like it.
Yoongi had been worried about where their relationship stood since the night he hadn’t come home. He and Jimin have been together for over two years, three next month, but this is one of the biggest issues they’ve run across. They’ve managed to solve any disagreements they had easily. This time though, there’s this odd tension polluting the air between them.
If only there was some quick fix, some magical undo button that would take him back to that night, so he could tell his past self not to meet up with the two heads of the Choi family. Honestly, if there was a way for his family to not end up as part of the mob, that would be great. Wishful thinking though. It’s all his fucking grandfather’s fault. He should have just left when the job he’d been forced to do was finished, but no. He just had to overthrow fucking… everyone and establish the Mins as one of the strongest families. Fucking hell. Guess who’s still having to deal with all the families that move pissed off?
“Yoongi-hyung?”
Yoongi lifts his head to look over his shoulder, finding his boyfriend stepping into the kitchen. He’s wearing a massive black shirt that may or may not belong to him. Their clothes have mixed so much there’s not much of a point in saying if something is Jimin’s or his. The shirt’s been partnered with baggy, gray sweats. It’s so casual, but Jimin looks beautiful… just like he always does. In all honesty, you could put Jimin in a trash bag and he’d still look gorgeous, or maybe that’s just Yoongi’s cheesy brain.
“Yes?” The elder asks.
“Is the food ready yet?”
Oh shit, the food. Yoongi jumps from his seat to check that it hasn’t burned. Luckily, it hasn’t. It might be just a tad overcooked, but it should be fine.
Once he brings it over to the table, Jimin lights up in a smile. “Thanks, hyung. It looks delicious.”
“No problem.” The elder reaches for the utensil drawer, grabbing two pairs of chopsticks and passing one over to Jimin. “I hope it’s still good. I got distracted and left the pork on for a little too long.”
“Your cooking is always good though.” The blonde says, already digging into the bibimmyeon. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“So you’re saying that time Taehyung came over for dinner and I made spaghetti, it was good? The noodles were super fucking soggy because I let them boil for way too long.”
“Okay, that would be the one exception.” Jimin sets his chopsticks down, covering his face as he starts to go red with embarrassment. “You left them in for too long because…” He moves his hands so Yoongi can see his face, his cheeks dusted in pink.
The elder wiggles his eyebrows at him suggestively, forcing a laugh out of his boyfriend. “Because what?”
Jimin shakes his head, going back to the food in front of him. “Nevermind. Get your mind out of the gutter, hyung.”
“Me??” Yoongi fakes a gasp as if shocked. “If I remember right, you were the one who started it that night, baby.”
“Whatever.” The younger says, rolling his eyes like he always does when he’s annoyed. He dips his chopsticks into the untouched, seasoned pork. He chews slowly, eyes lighting up. “It’s really good.”
“Really?” Yoongi asks, picking up a tiny piece of meat to try it for himself. Surprisingly, it tastes amazing. “Wow, I’m glad it still turned out okay.”
“You’ve always been a good cook, hyung. I’m not surprised.” He sets his chopsticks down and looks over at the elder with a smile. “How was work today?”
“It was alright. Nothing special.”
Throughout the time they’ve been together, it’s always surprising to Yoongi how Jimin had never asked much about his place of work, but it could just be because he’d come up with a foolproof story is he was ever asked. Did it suck to have to lie to the person he loves? Yes, but it was for Jimin’s safety. He’s gone down that road before with someone, and he wasn’t about to risk doing it again.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says with a laugh. “You know my job is boring. Just a bunch of endless meetings until I finally get to go home for the day.” At least part of that was true. “What about you, Jiminie?”
“Today was fun!” The blonde replies, coming alive with the same precious enthusiasm he always has when he talks about his job. “I managed to get a lot farther in the choreography I’ve been working on, and then I helped Yeonjunnie out with some stuff he’s been having trouble with.”
“That’s great, baby. I’m glad you had a good day.” The elder has always been insanely proud of Jimin. They’d met his senior year of university, and Yoongi’s watched him grow from a just a dance student to an assistant choreographer and dance teacher at a successful entertainment company. He’s incredibly inspiring, a perfect example of what it means for someone to make their dreams reality. The exact opposite of Yoongi.
Later, Yoongi is lying in bed alone while Jimin showers. It’s peaceful, just hearing his boyfriend softly singing along to the music he has playing. His voice is beautiful and delicate, the kind of voice that pleases your ears and makes you want to drop everything and listen. It’s times like this that really make him really wonder what he did to ever deserve someone like Jimin in his life. He knows Jimin deserves so much better, someone who hasn’t been lying straight to his face since day one, but he just can’t let him go.
The music stops, and the door to the bathroom swings open soon after. Jimin emerges completely dressed with hair still dripping wet. Yoongi props himself up on his elbow, taking in his boyfriend’s appearance. “You should probably dry your hair, baby. You don’t want to get sick.”
The blonde crawls into bed regardless, pressing himself to Yoongi’s back and gently pulling him in close. He smells like the coconut shampoo he’s been using for at least a year now. The elder can’t help but find it comforting, relaxing further into the pillows and the warm embrace of Jimin’s arms. He hadn’t felt very tired when he first laid down, but in this quiet, snug bubble of warmth, it’s hard for him to keep his eyes open. Love blooms in his heart as he lets his eyes gently slip closed. “Night, hyung. I love you.” Jimin softly whispers in his ear as he dozes off.
The cool, night air around them was haunting, contrasting the heat from the two bodies on either side of him, keeping him locked in place.
“Yoongi-hyung, please. Please do something.”
“You knew this was coming, Yoongi. I hope you finally understand how much it fucking hurts to lose someone you truly care about after this.”
“Hoseok has nothing to do with what my grandfather or anyone else in my family has done to you, and you know that. Let him go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
The sound of a gun cocking echoes throughout the old, empty warehouse. Tears well in his eyes as he desperately tries to look away, but two rough hands grab his chin and force him to watch the scene playing out in front of him. “Hoseok-ah, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“YOONGI-HYUNG!!”
Yoongi’s eyes shoot open, chest heavily moving up and down in quick breaths as he takes in his surroundings. He’s in his shared bedroom with Jimin, whose arms are still wrapped around him like a vise. As gently as possible, he detangles himself from his boyfriend and heads to the bathroom.
A dampened washcloth feels heavenly on his overheated skin as he leans against the sink with a defeated sigh. It’s the middle of the night, probably around two or three in the morning, and the bright, overhead lights above the sink aren’t kind to him. A quick glance in the mirror is a terrifying reality check, showing with no filter just how exhausted and worn down he looks. The concealer he’d blended into his skin has broken apart, revealing the mottling of lightly faded yellow and green bruises that start at his jawline and continue all the way up to underneath his eye on the right side of his face. It’s been a little under a week, and he still looks like a mess. He reaches down to turn the sink back on, reminding himself to set his alarm to wake up early enough to spot conceal again before Jimin wakes up.
Just as he’s managed to scrub the little remaining makeup on his face, the faint sound of his ringtone plays in the distance. He rushes out of the bathroom as quietly as possible, grabbing his phone off his bedside table. Thankfully, Jimin hasn’t woken up despite the noise. He’s still peacefully asleep, cheek still pressed against the pillow and chest slowly rising and falling. Yoongi’s phone is still buzzing in his hand. It’s Jungkook, and there’s only one reason why Jungkook would be calling him at this hour.
“Hello?” He asks as soon as the call connects.
“Hyung, I finally did it. I found the perfect target.”
“Really?”
“It took me a while because I didn’t want to just go for one of the higher-ups. They’d be expecting me and probably have some extra security on hand or some shit, so I did some digging. Turns out, there’s a small group of kids in the family who have been kept out of the mob side of things.”
“Oh, damn, for real?” It’s surprising to Yoongi that a family as big as the Chois would purposely keep members out of the mob. They used to be one of the most powerful families until the Mins took over.
“Yep, one of them is a trainee at an entertainment company. He’s the perfect target.”
“Who is it?”
“Choi Yeonjun.”