Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The club is dripping in red. Looking around the dimly lit lounge, one might think the interior designer had never heard of another color, let alone thought to use one. Somehow, it works. The plush seats are upholstered with red velvet, the tabletops a deep red cherry wood. The curtains covering the stage are a heavy red velvet that completely obscure whatever or whomever is behind them when drawn. The bartop is red, and the candles that sit atop each table are red. The only thing that is not red is the stage itself, which is painted midnight black, so as to not take attention away from whomever may be performing. 

Right now, the club, which is called Sanguine, is empty, and the lights are up. There are two men sitting at one of the tables in front of the stage. They’re both young men, but one of them is visibly younger than his companion by a few years. He has soft, black hair which falls over his ears and forehead, and he has to brush it aside every so often. He’s wearing his nicest clothes - a white button-down with a deep green vest buttoned over it. His pants are the same deep green, and they’re ever so slightly too large on him. He borrowed them from his grandfather, along with the rest of the ensemble. He’s never needed nice clothes of his own, at least not yet. He’s sitting up as straight as he can, his head held high, confident, even if inside he’s more nervous than he thinks he’s ever been before. The man across from him can sense it.

This man looks obscenely expensive. He wears a perfectly tailored Armani suit, with not a hair or thread out of place. He’s offensively attractive, with broad shoulders and perfectly pillowy lips. He lounges against the back of his chair, one forearm resting on the table, the other over his crossed legs. He regards the younger man with a smile. “Relax, Taehyung-ssi,” he says, his voice calming, reassuring. “Remember, this is just a formality.”

Taehyung nods, his tongue darting out quickly to wet his lips. He takes a deep breath, and lets it out with a smile, trying to summon every ounce of charm he’s always been told he possesses. “Sorry,” he says, laughing nervously. “I’m just really excited about this opportunity.”

“I am too,” Kim Seokjin, the owner and proprietor of the club says. He reaches for his martini and takes a sip, noting Taehyung’s own completely untouched cocktail. Taehyung takes the hint, and reaches for his glass, his hand darting out almost too quickly. He stops, gathers his control, and picks up the glass. The drink is some ridiculous drink he’s never had before, with an equally ridiculous name. Sex on a beach, or something outlandish like that. Taehyung’s never even been to the beach. “So, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” Seokjin says, setting his martini glass down gently on his glass coaster. It makes a tinkling sound, and when Taehyung sets his own down, a little too quickly, it clacks loudly. Seokjin suppresses a wince. 

“Um, well, I come from just outside of Daegu. I grew up on my grandparents’ farm in Geochang, but I’ve been singing just as long as I could talk,” he adds emphatically. “I- um. I used to put on shows for my grandparents, and their friends. I was the talk of our village,” he adds, chuckling. Seokjin smiles at him. 

“When did you start putting your videos on YouTube?”

“Two years ago.” Taehyung’s back is starting to hurt from sitting up so straight. He wants to relax, sit back, but his grandmother’s words echo in his mind. Make sure you sit up straight, so you look like one of those city kids. He pushes through the discomfort. “I guess people enjoyed them.”

“That’s an understatement. Most of your videos have over a million views.”

“H-how did you find my videos, Seokjin-ssi?”

“A friend of mine found them, actually, and recommended them to me. When I heard your sound, I realized your voice would perfectly complement our atmosphere here.” Seokjin thinks about hearing Taehyung’s voice for the first time, coming from the tiny speakers in his phone. He thinks about the fiery desire that ignited right away to get this young man to come sing at his club, the desire which compelled him to reach out through the email Taehyung linked in each of his videos. Now, two weeks later, here they are. “Do you think singing here is something you could do, Taehyung-ssi?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, almost comically large, the desperate need to impress this expensive-looking man, and the all-encompassing desire to get his first break doing something he never thought he could do for a living showing on his face, leaking from every pore. He has a very expressive face, Seokjin thinks. Taehyung knows how to use his facial expressions when he performs. Seokjin cannot wait to see him in front of a real audience. Taehyung nods, his movements almost frantic. “Yes. Definitely. I’ve always wanted to sing for a live audience, and to be honest I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream, but I’m so grateful for the opportunity.”

Seokjin nods. “Great. Well, did you prepare a song, like I asked?” Taehyung nods again, and Seokjin claps a hand gently on the table, his rings clacking against the wood. “Fantastic. Let’s get it cued up, and get you up on stage.” It’s early in the afternoon, and none of Seokjin’s employees are due to arrive for another few hours to start preparing for the evening. Seokjin stands, Taehyung hurrying to follow, and when he holds out his hand Taehyung scrambles to unlock his phone and find the instrumental track he’s planning on singing to. He taps the track and quickly presses pause before handing his phone over. “I’ll plug this in, you go get on stage.” 

Taehyung turns, hesitating when he sees that the heavy curtain is still drawn, but a moment later they start to slide open, the mechanical whirring only audible in the silence of the afternoon. He glances back, where Seokjin is standing behind the bar, his finger on the button that controls the curtain. He pulls his hand away when the curtain is halfway open, and then goes to the high tech soundboard that sits right at the end of the bar. He plugs in Taehyung’s phone, and watches as he mounts the stairs at the edge of the stage. Taehyung walks to the microphone and looks around the empty club, a giddy feeling creeping over him as he thinks about the fact that he’s on a real stage for the first time. Excitement overwhelms his nerves, and he smiles, and looks back over to Seokjin, waiting for him to get the music set up.

Neither of them notice the third man who steps into the brightly lit club. Jimin is wearing sunglasses inside, his heavy winter coat draped over his thin shoulders. He unwound his scarf when he entered the building, but left it draped around his neck. His head is pounding, and he feels like one wrong step might send him tumbling to the floor. I’m never drinking that much again, he thinks not for the first time, feeling grumpy, and tired. He woke up this afternoon on Yoongi’s couch after crashing there last night, drunk as hell, and then went home for approximately five minutes before he couldn’t stand to stay there alone any longer. He caught a cab to Sanguine, and now he stands in the very back of the lounge, in a shadowy area, watching the pretty, tall, and nervous looking man walking to the middle of the stage. Jimin’s brow furrows. He glances to Seokjin, wanting to go to his friend and boss and ask who this kid is, but his suspicion overpowers any curiosity he might have, and he remains in the back. His stomach threatens to turn, however, so he slowly makes his way to the furthest booth and slides in, slouching in a way that would make his dance teacher smack him. 

Taehyung doesn’t notice the newcomer, too busy going through the song’s lyrics in his head one last time. “Are you ready?” Seokjin calls, and Taehyung looks up at him, eyes wide. 

Alright, Tae, this is your shot… you’ve got this, he tells himself, trying to sound firm even in his own mind. He looks out at the first few empty tables, and imagines his grandparents, and all of their friends occupying those seats. He’s never been nervous about singing for them, not once, not when all they’ve ever done is encourage him and hype him up. Somehow, it helps. Seokjin watches this, feeling inexplicable fondness for the young man. Taehyung takes a deep breath, and then looks up at Seokjin. He nods. “Ready.”

Seokjin taps play, glancing at the song’s title, Stigma, and sets the phone down so he can move out from behind the bar to sit in the middle of the club, at the same table they were at before. From the back of the lounge, Jimin sits up a little straighter. He hadn’t realized Seokjin was auditioning a new singer. A shot of anxiety rips through him. 

Taehyung closes his eyes, trying to lose himself in the music. He’s not in some swanky club in Seoul. He’s in his grandparents’ home in Geochang, filming a new video for his YouTube channel, just as he’s done for two years now. Nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary. His cue arrives, and he starts to sing. His voice fills the club, and he doesn’t notice, as his eyes are still closed, but both of his listeners sit up straight, their eyes going wide and mouths opening - Seokjin’s just a hint, but Jimin’s jaw drops entirely. His voice is deep, his tone sultry and on perfect pitch. Jimin sucks in a harsh breath when he reaches high notes Jimin wouldn’t have thought possible, considering he’s clearly a baritone. His skin tingles as the man continues to sing, his face expressive and open. From several meters in front of him, Seokjin has a similar feeling, but it’s accompanied not by one of jealousy, like what’s currently coursing through Jimin’s whole body, but of fierce desire. Yes. He needs this man to sing at his club, even more so than he had after he heard his voice through the internet. He’s a powerhouse, and his range is impressive - more impressive than Jimin’s or Jeongguk’s, and it rivals his own. 

Yes, Seokjin thinks. That’s all he needs to say, and I will make him famous. 

Sanguine has been one of, if not the premier club in Seoul for the past six years since Seokjin opened it. It is always packed full of people who come to hear his singers, and drink his alcohol. This is a place where many business deals have gone down, and even more men and women wooed. There have been proposals and announcements of all kinds between these walls. People have come to celebrate birthdays, retirements, anniversaries, promotions, everything. Seokjin prides himself on the elite nature of his clientele, and even more so on the talent of his employees. Yes, he thinks again. Taehyung will fit right in. Though, that green suit will have to go. 

Taehyung is blissfully unaware of his audience as he sings the end of the song. He’s only focused on conveying the mood of the song. He’s a completely different person when he sings. He’s confident, self-assured. He knows who he is and what he wants, so unlike himself normally. He hits the climax of the song, the high, sustained note, and moves smoothly through to the end. When he says the final, please, the music ends. He takes a deep breath, barely noticing the next track in his playlist starting as he tries to quickly come down from his high. 

Seokjin gets up and almost runs over to the bar, leaning over it to reach Taehyung’s phone and unplug the auxiliary cord, tapping the pause button. He sets the phone down, and then turns back to the stage. He claps fast, loudly, and only then does Taehyung open his eyes and look out at him. “Wow,” he exclaims. “Taehyung-ssi, that was phenomenal. How have you managed to not be scooped up by an entertainment company yet?”

Taehyung laughs, blushing slightly at the compliment. “Ah, well, I guess they just haven’t seen my videos.” His voice is loud, speaking into the microphone, and he steps away from it. Seokjin beckons him. 

“Come on down, we need to talk salary, schedules, setlists.” Seokjin hurries back over to the table and picks up his martini, draining the rest of it in one go. Taehyung hurries down off the stage. In the back, Jimin slinks out of the booth and rushes out the door. He stops in the hallway, his eyes wide, as his breath speeds up. He feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin - his hangover long forgotten in the wake of what he just witnessed. The lobby outside the club is a beautiful circular room, with the bathrooms to the left, and the dual elevators to the right. There’s a small table in the middle, sitting atop the central design on the marble floor, with an enormous vase full of flowers - flowers he knows Seokjin replaces every day to make sure they’re fresh, fragrant, and beautiful each night. Jimin goes to the men’s room, and stops in front of the mirror. He reaches up and rips off his sunglasses, staring into his own wide, dark brown eyes. He’s got dark smudges in the space below his eyes, belying just how tired he is. 

He reaches into his pocket, yanking out his phone. It takes his shaking fingers two tries to type in the correct passcode, but soon enough it’s unlocked. He calls Yoongi, and holds the phone against his ear, pressing harder than he needs to. It rings through, and when it reaches Yoongi’s voicemail, Jimin rips the phone away, growling in frustration and jabbing his thumb against the end call button. He calls Namjoon. He answers on the second ring. 

“Hey, Jimin-ah. What’s up?” he says, his voice calm, easy. His whole world isn’t about to fall apart. 

“Hyung, did you know that Seokjin was hiring a new singer?” he says in a rush, trying to contain his utter panic. 

“Whoa, whoa, Jimin-ah, calm down. What?” he asks. 

“Seokjin-hyung is auditioning a new singer as we speak.” 

Namjoon makes a surprised sound. So he didn’t know either. Then, he gasps lightly. “Oh, wait. You know what, now that you mention it, I do remember him mentioning that he found some kid on YouTube that he wanted to try to get to come sing here. Maybe a week or two ago? I think Jeongguk showed him.”

“So it’s Jeongguk’s fault then,” Jimin hisses. 

“What? Jimin-ah, what’s wrong?”

“He’s replacing me!” Jimin says, distraught, finally voicing the fear that’s gradually taken hold of his throat since the kid first started singing. “Don’t you see? He’s pissed at me, so he’s going to hire this new guy and fire me!”

“Jimin-ah, don’t you think you’re being a little d-”

“Do not say I’m being dramatic!” Jimin yells, his voice echoing in the marble bathroom. Namjoon’s silent for a long moment, and Jimin withers. He can feel the look Namjoon’s surely giving him through the phone. “I’m sorry, hyung,” he mumbles.

“Jimin-ah, if you’re worried, then just talk to hyung. I guarantee he’s not replacing you. Do you know how much business he would lose if you stopped singing at Sanguine? Take a deep breath, okay? I’ll see you in a few hours. Why are you even there? It’s only four, we don’t even open until nine.”

Jimin huffs, standing up straight and leaning his hips against the counter, reaching up to brush his long, sandy blond hair out of his eyes. “I just didn’t wanna be home,” he mumbles. He hears Namjoon utter a sympathetic sound, and fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Okay, well. Go talk to hyung. I promise he’s not mad at you.”

Jimin whines, lightly stamping his foot, and then immediately blushing at how childish that was. He hopes his phone microphone didn’t pick up on it. “What if he is?”

“You won’t know unless you ask. Alright? I’m sorry, Jimin-ah, but I’ve got to go.”

“Bye hyung,” he whispers, dejected. He hangs up after Namjoon says goodbye, and sets his phone down on the counter. He stares into his reflection for a long moment. He hadn’t expected there to be anyone at the club, so he decided to do his makeup when he arrived, but now he’s cursing that decision. If there’s some new guy starting, he does not want this to be his first impression. But. There’s nothing to do about that now. Staring into his own eyes, Jimin forces himself to take a deep calming breath, exhaling slowly. Then he leaves the bathroom and returns to the lounge. 

Inside, Taehyung feels like he’s about to explode with excitement. Not only did Kim Seokjin like his voice, but he’s eager to get Taehyung signed on. His head is swimming with information. “I have two other singers, as well as myself, whom you’ll be joining. Everyone sings every night, and we alternate who gets a night off. When we’re really busy, I like the singers to help tend the bar, and when we’re not super busy the singers mingle with the customers. It helps keep the regulars coming back when they have a chance to interact with them. I used to have one singer per night, but I found that my regulars come back more often when we each sing every night. Everyone has their favorites, of course. Along with the singers, I have three bartenders, and of course our bouncer. We’re a small family, and as soon as you sign on the dotted line you’re family too. I take care of my family, Taehyung-ssi. As long as you work for me, you’ll have a home at Sanguine.” 

“That sounds amazing,” Taehyung says, starstruck. He can’t believe his luck. The more Seokjin talks, the more it simultaneously feels like a dream and staggeringly real. Seokjin smiles. In his peripheral, he sees Jimin step in through the main door, and his eyes widen with surprise. Jimin slumps into a booth when he sees Seokjin’s busy, and pulls out his phone, so Seokjin turns his attention back to Taehyung. 

“The song you sang is the perfect genre, so any other similar songs you have, you’re more than welcome to perform. We’ve got no shortage of music lovers, among us, though, so we’re always finding new songs to cover. The main draw of my club is the live music and the atmosphere, so we take it very seriously. Yoongi is our producer and DJ, so we’ve always got new original songs for us to debut.”

Taehyung gasps. “That’s so cool.” Seokjin chuckles. “I- Seokjin-ssi, I don’t know how to thank you enough for this opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

“Call me hyung, please. And I have a feeling you won’t. Now, let’s talk salary.”

Jimin pretends to stare at his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his Instagram, but he’s watching the two at the table, trying not to burn up from the inside out. Seokjin opens the leather bound folder in which he keeps all of their contracts, and pulls out a sheaf of papers before handing them to the other guy, whose eyes widen. Jimin suppresses a sneer. He seems young. Naive. Jimin is not normally this… mean. But right now, he can’t help himself. It doesn’t matter how reassuring Namjoon’s words were. Jimin’s still on the verge of full panic. 

His phone starts vibrating, and he glances down. It’s Yoongi. He accepts the call and puts the phone to his ear. “Jimin-ah, you called?” Yoongi says. 

“Not now, hyung,” he says, and then hangs up. He knows he’s going to get hell for that later, but right now he can’t focus on anything other than the fact that the kid sitting across from Seokjin is signing the papers with a smile. He sets the pen down and takes Seokjin’s proffered hand, and they shake, both smiling widely. Then Seokjin looks directly at him, and Jimin slumps down further, trying to hide, even though he knows he’s caught. 

“Jimin-ah, come over here,” he calls, his voice filling the room. It’s a large room, able to hold a capacity of three hundred fifty, but when it’s empty like this, Seokjin’s voice fills it easily. Jimin stands, feeling like a child caught red-handed. He slips his phone into his pocket, feeling it hit his sunglasses and not caring about potential scratches. He stands up straight, ignoring the way the kid is staring at him with wide, almost awestruck eyes. He doesn’t know that Taehyung is thinking, oh my god he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. Not right then. At least… He wouldn’t care much. Jimin is many things, and vain is one of them. 

“Hi, hyung,” he says, affecting a much more cheerful air than he truly feels. “Who’s this?” He smiles widely, his best customer service face, and holds out his hand. “Park Jimin,” he says. The kid stands fast, knocking the table as he does so. He takes Jimin’s hand, but doesn’t shake. He just holds it, staring at him. He’s tall, several centimeters taller than Jimin, and he’s vaguely disgusted that he has to look up to see into his enormous eyes. 

“Kim Taehyung,” he says, finally. And Jimin glances down at their hands, shakes them once, and then pulls his hand away. “It’s so nice to meet you,” Taehyung says, sounding disgustingly sincere. 

“Likewise,” he says, his high voice airy. He turns to Seokjin. “Can I talk to you?” Seokjin presses his mouth into a tight line. “Please?” he adds, hoping to soften him up a bit. 

Seokjin uncrosses his legs, smooths out his pants, and then stands. “Taehyung-ah, why don’t you go explore the backstage area, start to familiarize yourself with it. I’ll come find you for a full tour when we’re done here.” 

“O-okay, hyung. Thanks.” Taehyung glances between Seokjin and Jimin once more, before he scurries away, toward the door beside the stage Seokjin gestured to. Then Seokjin turns to Jimin, sliding his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t say anything. Jimin looks like he’s wrestling with something, and Seokjin knows if he waits long enough Jimin will explode with it. He’s never been good at keeping things inside. Few people he knows are as classically extroverted as Jimin is.  

“Hyung, are you firing me?” Jimin says, deciding to be forward. “You’re firing me, aren’t you? That kid is my replacement. Listen, if this is about last night, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, hyung, I promise.” This all comes out in a rush, his voice getting more and more high pitched as his fear and stress mounts. 

Seokjin, meanwhile, stares at him, dumbstruck. He yanks his hands from his pockets, and puts them on Jimin’s shoulders. “Jimin-ah, stop!” he says, and Jimin gasps, his eyes going wide, and his erratic breaths slowing fractionally. “Hey, what? I’m not firing you. You’d have to do more than just get sloppy drunk in front of our customers for me to fire you. I mean, yeah, that wasn’t exactly great, but you didn’t do anything too embarrassing. I don’t want you to make a habit of it, but I’m not firing you,” he says, flustered.

Jimin’s brain is going a mile a minute, and his breath hitches as he stares into Seokjin’s concerned gaze. “I’m not fired?” he squeaks. Seokjin shakes his head emphatically. “Oh thank god,” he exhales, stepping forward and resting his forehead on Seokjin’s shoulder. Seokjin hugs him, patting his back gently. 

“Jimin-ah, you’re my star. And you’re family. This place would never be the same without you.”

“I thought Jeonggukie was your star?” he grumbles, and Seokjin laughs.

“You’re both my stars.”

Jimin reels back, pointing toward the backstage door. “So why are you hiring that guy?” he asks, his tone accusatory.

“Because he’s an amazing singer,” Seokjin says immediately. Jimin doesn’t say that he heard Taehyung sing already, he just pouts. He knows he’s acting like a diva, but he can’t bring himself to stop. “You’ll see when you hear him, Jimin-ah. He’s going to bring in even more customers. But that doesn’t mean your own regulars won’t be here every night to hear you sing, like they always are. Taehyung isn’t taking anything away from you, he’s adding something to the whole family.”

Jimin frowns, petulant. “Fine.” 

“Now, do you want to tell me why you’re here so early?”

Jimin steps back, and Seokjin’s arms slide down to his sides. He slips them back into his pockets, and quirks his head as he watches him. “I just didn’t want to be at home,” Jimin says airily. “Thought I’d come and practice my new songs.”

Seokjin nods, his concern mounting. “Alright,” he says slowly. “Well, you know where everything is, feel free. I’m going to go give Taehyung that tour. He won’t start singing yet,  I want to get him well versed in the way of things before he gets on stage for the first time. Actually, I think your voices would go really well together, maybe you could do a few duets.” Jimin presses down on the immediate distaste he feels at that idea. Of course he’s performed duets with Jeongguk and Seokjin himself in the past, but he’s always preferred not having to share the spotlight. 

“Sure,” he says. Seokjin puts his hand on Jimin’s shoulder again, squeezing it gently. 

“It’ll be fine, Jimin-ah. In fact, I think it’s going to be great.” 

“Whatever you say, hyung.”

As it does every night, at nine o’clock the club comes to life. The lights dim and the otherwise oppressive red feels seductive, just as alive as the people who fill it up. It’s like being inside a beating heart, and the club-goers are the blood rushing through it. The unending flow of alcohol keeps the heart pumping, keeps the blood coursing through it. Seokjin loves this place. It’s his home. His child, and he would do anything to keep it as alive as it is every single night. He stands on the balcony overlooking the main floor, staring at the stage. Below, there’s a sea of sparkling dresses, and glittering jewelry swaying with the rhythm of the conversation. He glances at his watch. Nine fifty-eight. Jeongguk is performing first tonight, at ten o’clock on the dot. 

Beside him, Taehyung stands with his hands on the railing, leaning the upper half of his body over, staring unabashedly at the scene below. He cannot believe he’s here right now, has never seen anything this glamorous before. The balcony circles around either side of the stage, and it’s not quite packed yet, but Seokjin has no doubt it will be soon. He looks down at the bar, watching Namjoon and Hoseok bustling around making drinks. Yoongi is standing in front of the mixing board, DJing before the evening’s real entertainment begins. 

“Is it always like this?” Taehyung asks, his voice loud over the noise of the low thumping bass and sultry female voice singing in English. Taehyung doesn’t recognize the song, but he can tell it’s a remix. Seokjin turns to look at him, pride swelling in his chest. 

“It is,” he says easily. He reaches up and puts his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, squeezing, and then pats his back. “And you’re going to make us even more the talk of the town.” Taehyung’s eyes widen, and he looks scared. But he also looks excited, like he’s nearly bursting with it. Seokjin pats his back again, and then replaces his hand on the bannister. 

The song fades out, and Seokjin’s attention snaps back to the main floor. A hush falls over the crowd, and Jeongguk, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, his black hair slicked up off his forehead, steps onto the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Yoongi says, his deep voice filling the room as he speaks into his microphone. “Let’s give a warm welcome to our very own Jeon Jeongguk.” The audience goes wild, and Jeongguk smiles slyly at everyone, his white teeth glinting in the spotlight. The trumpets start up over the speakers, and Jeongguk immediately starts his first number of the night. 

He’s singing Sway, a song that never fails to get the audience eating out of his hands. Taehyung is immediately captivated. His hands clench on the railing, unconsciously leaning further over the edge of the balcony. He’s having a hard time reconciling the Jeongguk on stage right now, singing this sultry song, dancing and flirting with the audience, with the Jeongguk he met earlier. That Jeongguk was a shy, smiley kid who looks barely old enough to be in this club, let alone working here. Taehyung took an instant liking to him, though he’d blushed fiercely when Jeongguk told him he was the one who found his YouTube channel, and showed Seokjin. Unable to stop himself, Taehyung bowed to him, thanking him profusely for that, and when he stood back up Jeongguk was blushing as well. 

Backstage, Jimin sits in front of the mirror in his dressing room, frowning. He can’t stop thinking about Taehyung, and the way he’d seemed so stupidly innocent earlier as Seokjin introduced him to the rest of the crew. He hung back, watching with a slight frown, his arms crossed, wishing that the kid would just cool it for a moment. At least act like this isn’t your first time out of the goddamn countryside, he thought as distaste curled in his belly. He didn’t know to whom it was directed, Taehyung, or himself. 

Now, he glares at his reflection, wondering just when it was that he became so mean. He closes his eyes, inhaling slowly, and exhaling forcefully. He opens his eyes and goes about fixing his makeup. He’s doing a duet with Jeongguk, and he goes over the song and the little choreography they came up with. This will be their first time performing that song, and despite the mask of unflappable confidence keeping him appearing the very definition of calm and certainty, he’s a little nervous. 

He feels like he’s going to explode out of his skin, and he stops as he brushes powder onto his cheeks, noticing for the first time that his hand is shaking. He stares at it, tensing his muscles, trying to make it stop. He doesn’t know when it got this bad. 

The dressing room door opens, and Namjoon peeks his head in. He stares at Jimin for a moment before speaking, his expression softening as he regards his longtime friend. “Hey, Jimin-ah,” he says. Jimin turns, setting down his powder brush. “You’re almost up.” Jimin nods, turning back to the mirror and beginning to fuss with his hair. “You look great, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Jimin drawls. “I know how good I look.” Namjoon snorts, and leaves the dressing room. Their backstage area is small, just a narrow, dimly lit hallway with a few dressing rooms. At the end it leads up a few steps onto the stage, and the door just to the left of it leads back out onto the floor. Namjoon steps through it easily, Jeongguk’s gorgeous falsetto much louder from this side. He loves to switch wildly between genres, to ‘keep the audience on their toes’ he claims, and to his credit, it works. He’s singing the final bars of How Long and Namjoon hopes Jimin gets his ass up and onto the stage in the next minute. 

He makes his way back to the bar quickly, for despite the night’s performances having started, he and Hoseok are still extremely busy making drinks. “You know, you could help,” he says into Yoongi’s ear as he passes. Yoongi smirks at him. 

“No can do, I’m busy.” He gestures to the soundboard equipment in front of him. Namjoon fakes a frown. 

“You don’t have to do anything except press play!” Yoongi shrugs, pointing to his ear and shaking his head as Namjoon busies himself with making the cocktail Hoseok asked him to take care of. Namjoon rolls his eyes, shaking his head, and turns to the customer in front of him, smiling brightly as he hands over the cocktail. He knows Yoongi does more than just press play, but he likes to give him a hard time sometimes. Hoseok nudges him with his elbow, gesturing up at the balcony, where Seokjin stands next to the new kid. 

“What do you think?” he asks, leaning in toward Namjoon. They’ve both become quite adept at holding entire conversations while extremely busy, never slipping up, or spilling a drop while rapidly pouring drinks left and right. 

“I like him,” Namjoon says. Up on stage, Jeongguk finishes the song to rapturous applause. “He seems like a sweet kid. And Jeongguk showed me his videos earlier, the kid can sing.”

“Yeah, I heard him too. Damn. Can’t wait till he can get on stage,” Hoseok replies, leaning over the bar, grabbing an empty glass left there, and moving it to the sink before returning to Namjoon’s side. 

“Jimin seemed really put off by him, though,” Namjoon says a moment later, as the man in question steps out onto the stage. 

“How about a duet?” Jeongguk asks the audience, glancing from Jimin out over the crowd, smirking to loud cheers of approval. Jimin smiles, catlike, and seductive. Yoongi starts the next song, and they begin their duet. They’re doing a new arrangement of Attention, and while normally Namjoon knows Seokjin wouldn’t approve of two covers by the same artist in a row, this he let slide, considering Yoongi changed the song quite a bit when he rearranged it for the two of them. The original is fairly fast, upbeat, while Yoongi slowed it down, turning it into a heart-wrenching ballad that both Jimin and Jeongguk absolutely kill. It’s awe-inspiring, what Yoongi can do with a song. 

“Yeah, I noticed he’s been a bit frosty lately,” Hoseok says. “I mean, I know it’s been hard for him since what happened, but I thought he was doing better.”

“Are you guys talking about Jimin?” Yoongi says, appearing at Namjoon’s right elbow. Namjoon nods, biting back a tease about how now he can leave the soundboard. On stage Jimin belts out a particularly wrenching high note that they all feel deep in their souls. “Something’s been up with him, lately,” Yoongi says, his brow furrowing. “I’m a little worried about him.” Namjoon’s stomach drops. Yoongi knows Jimin better than any of them, and if he’s worried, then perhaps they all should be.

Up on the balcony, Taehyung is having a mental breakdown. That has to be it. He’s losing his sanity, because nothing else could describe how he’s feeling right now. He can’t take his eyes off of Jimin. He’s in love. Utterly and completely. Jimin, dressed in a black suit that shimmers under the spotlight, his blond hair soft and flowing as he moves passionately to the song. His voice is high and beautiful and perfect. Jeongguk sounds amazing, too, of course, but… There’s something about Jimin that absolutely and irrevocably captivates Taehyung. It’s almost enough to make him forget the way Jimin looked at him when they first met, like he was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Nevermind that, Taehyung thinks, banishing the feeling that memory brings with it. I’ll find a way to befriend him. The sentiment comes easily, for Taehyung has no doubt in his ability to befriend just about anyone. 

When they finish their duet, Jeongguk bows deeply, and exits the stage while Jimin moves straight into his first solo of the evening. The deep plucking bass of Fever begins, and Jimin smirks at the cheers and applause. This is one he’s performed several times, always to an incredible reaction. Jimin knows how sexy he is, and he knows how to use it while performing. There’s a reason he started in this industry as a burlesque dancer. Now he continues to showcase that skillset, while also singing live - Just like that American movie! the others like to tease him. Jimin always rolls his eyes when that happens, but inside he’s secretly happy about the comparison. He’s even considered performing one of the songs she sings in that movie, just hasn’t gathered the courage to do so yet. 

He tries to avoid glancing up at the balcony as he performs, but he can’t help it, drawn like a moth to a flame. Taehyung’s stupid green suit sticks out in the sea of men wearing black and navy blue. He passively takes in the dumb look on his face, not letting it affect his performance, though somewhere in the back of his mind he realizes that that ‘dumb look’ is actually awe, and part of Jimin absolutely preens under it. Yes, let me show you exactly how it’s done, he thinks during an instrumental break, as he dances around the stage. 

Jimin starts to sing again, his voice smooth and beautiful as it fills the club. He keeps his gaze roaming, making eye contact with random customers, both flirting and teasing. They can never have him. They know this, and Jimin knows that it just makes them want him more. Both women and men openly ogle him every time he’s on stage, and even more so when the evening’s entertainment is over and he works the floor, bringing people their drinks and mingling. The end of this song is slow, sultry, and Jimin uses every ounce of his sex appeal, and as soon as the final note rings out, the audience loses it. Jimin gets high on it, on their praise, their applause. That high carries him through his next three songs, and when he finally bows, ready to hand the stage over to Seokjin, he feels like he could conquer the world if he wanted to. He’s filled with electricity, with pride in himself and his performance, and sheer euphoria. 

Seokjin stops him, just off stage, and cups his cheeks in both hands. “You were amazing,” he says forcefully. “Absolutely stunning.” Jimin smiles widely. “I hope you don’t still think I would ever replace you.”

“Break a leg, hyung,” he says, and Seokjin lets him go, passing him and jogging up the steps. Jimin turns right and goes out onto the floor through the backstage door, making a bee line straight for the bar. Up on stage Seokjin is greeting the crowd, asking them if they’re having a good time, if they’ve enjoyed the night’s entertainment so far, and Jimin’s high spikes at their enthusiastic response. He glances over his shoulder, catching more than a few people staring at him, undisguised want in their eyes. 

“Here you go,” Namjoon says, sliding his usual drink over the top of the bar. “You earned it. Amazing, as always, Jimin-ah.” Jimin takes the cocktail, sipping through the straw. 

“Thanks hyung.”

“Jimin-ssi?” 

Jimin turns sharply, surprised at the hand on his shoulder. He manages not to spill his drink, but only because he’s already sucked half of it down. Taehyung stands beside him, pulling his hand back a hair. His eyes are wide, and from this close, Jimin realizes that Taehyung perhaps isn’t as young as Jimin initially thought. His jaw is sculpted, his nose round but not boyish, with big eyes. His black hair is on the longer side, curling nicely over his forehead and around his ears. Jimin wonders if it’s natural, or a perm. He’s not able to get a handle on his thoughts before he finds himself musing, He’s very handsome. 

“Yes?” Jimin asks, his brows inching up. 

“I just wanted to tell you that you were amazing up there!” he gushes. His voice is deep, and it’s a little hard to hear over the sound of Seokjin filling the club as he starts singing his first song of the evening. Jimin unconsciously leans in a little. “Your voice is phenomenal. I really hope we can sing together soon!” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Jimin says airly, though he can’t help his smile in response to Taehyung’s compliment. “Excuse me, I have to go mingle.” Jimin breezes past him, and Taehyung’s left staring after him. Confusion creeps through him. 

“What did I do?” he whispers to himself. Taehyung’s not used to being brushed off like that. Not when he comes from such a small town, where everyone knows and likes everyone. 

“Hey. Taehyung-ah.” He turns, and Yoongi, the one Seokjin introduced as their DJ, bartender, sometime MC, and music producer all in one, beckons him over. Taehyung steps around the end of the bar, stopping beside Yoongi, who is adjusting something on the soundboard. The change must be incredibly slight, because Taehyung doesn’t notice a difference. “Don’t let Jimin get to you,” Yoongi says, leaning in toward him. “I know he seems like an asshole right now, but he’s a really sweet guy.”

“I don’t think he likes me,” Taehyung replies, reaching up and scratching his cheek, grimacing. Yoongi shakes a hand in front of his face, the gesture dismissive. 

“He’ll get over himself soon enough. Just focus on getting yourself mentally ready to start working tomorrow night.” Yoongi leans his hip against the counter, picking up his glass of whiskey and taking a small sip. “You need a drink,” he says, setting his glass down, and before Taehyung can tell him he doesn’t actually drink, Yoongi’s turning around and approaching Hoseok. While he waits for Yoongi to return, Taehyung turns to stare up at the stage. Seokjin has a large presence even when he’s just standing and talking. Up on stage, he seems to fill the entire room. He makes excellent use of the space, moving here and there to interact with the audience on all sides, including up on the balcony that circles around the club. His voice is also beautiful, and powerful. Jeongguk’s voice was also amazing, but Taehyung can’t help but think that of the three, Jimin’s voice is his favorite. 

His eyes seek out Jimin without his consciously trying to. He’s standing, leaning against one of the taller tables on the far side of the bar, smiling and chatting with the women around the table. They all look like they’re absolutely in heaven, taking to the Park Jimin, who is giggling and flirting like the rent is due. A tiny spark of jealousy grows in Taehyung’s chest, and it surprises him. 

Taehyung forces himself to look away from Jimin. Instead, he turns to watch Seokjin on the stage, and then to Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon behind the bar. He focuses hard, trying to absorb as much of what they’re doing as possible. He knows that tomorrow they’re going to start training him on bartending, but he thinks it couldn’t help to get a head start. Jimin returns to the bar a few times for more drinks, both for customers and himself, but he doesn’t spare Taehyung a second glance. Despite his best efforts, Taehyung can’t help but start to feel irritated. He didn’t do anything to deserve such a cold reception from a new coworker. But, he decides he’s not going to let it bother him anymore. Screw Jimin and his stupid beautiful face. If he wants to ignore Taehyung, then Taehyung will ignore him. He has five other new coworkers to get to know, all of whom seem happy that Taehyung’s joining their team. 

It still stings, however, and though Taehyung’s immediate crush dims somewhat, it doesn’t go away.

Seokjin’s final note rings out and fades, and the audience applauds, cheering and hollering as Seokjin bows with a flourish. Then, rather than leaving the stage, he adjusts his grip on the microphone and smiles. “Are you all having a good night?” he asks. More cheers. “Fantastic! Well, before I close tonight’s entertainment with one more song, I would like to introduce someone who has just joined our family here at Sanguine.” Taehyung’s jaw drops and a burst of nerves ignites in his stomach. “Taehyung, come on up here!” Seokjin calls, gesturing toward him, and Taehyung has no choice. He moves automatically, weaving through the crowd toward the same small staircase he used to mount the stage earlier in the day, when he auditioned, and this time when he looks out over the club, it’s absolutely packed with people. His stomach drops, and pure exhilaration fills him. Taehyung goes to Seokjin’s side, and the warm weight of his arm over Taehyung’s shoulders helps to ground him. 

“Everyone, I’m so pleased to introduce Kim Taehyung. He’s got the face of a god and the voice of an angel, so I hope you’re all excited!” The crowd cheers again, but this time they’re cheering for him and Taehyung can barely wrap his head around it. Despite his disbelief, however, he feels on top of the world in that moment. 

The club closes at four am. Taehyung feels simultaneously dead on his feet and still high on the infectious energy of the evening. Seokjin asks him to help Namjoon as they go through their closing procedure. Behind the bar, through a door Taehyung had noticed but never gone through, is a small kitchen, though they don’t use it for food. The room’s main function is to house the enormous, industrial sized dish machine. They load all the remaining glasses, as well as the glass coasters onto racks and put them through to wash and disinfect. Namjoon has him loading, while he and Hoseok work on putting everything away. There are several tall wooden cases where all of the glasses live when not in use that line the wall the dish machine doesn’t occupy. After all the dishes are washed, Namjoon shows him how they disassemble the machine itself and clean all its parts. It’s a tedious process. 

“Hyung, how come we have to wash the dishwasher?” he asks, amused, and Namjoon laughs. 

“Because we want to keep this stupid thing in as perfect condition as possible. It was expensive as hell, but it’s so much easier than washing and disinfecting everything by hand.” That makes sense, and Taehyung just nods and continues on.

After that’s finished, they go back onto the floor, where Jimin, Yoongi, and Jeongguk are washing the tables and picking up trash on the floor. Namjoon gets two mops, the kind that have the cloth pad on the bottom, and a spray bottle operated by a button on the handle, and hands one to Taehyung. They make quick work of mopping the floor on the main level, while Hoseok takes a third mop up to the balcony. Taehyung wonders why they don’t have a cleaning service come to do this each night, but he’s too tired to ask. Namjoon must guess, however, because he says, “Clean-up doesn’t take too long, usually, so it’s one way to save the club’s money.”

“Ah,” Taehyung says. “Makes sense.”

Seokjin is standing at the bar, counting out all of the cash they received that night. The vast majority of customers use their cards, but quite a few opt to pay in cash. Taehyung and Namjoon quickly mop the floor, following behind the others as they put the chairs up on the tables. 

“Jimin,” Yoongi calls, catching his attention. Taehyung watches surreptitiously while he continues mopping. “Are you staying with me again tonight?”

“No, I’m going home, I need to sleep in my own bed. Not that your couch isn’t comfortable, it just doesn’t compare.” Jimin replies. He sounds exhausted. They all do. It’s been a busy night. They’re used to this schedule, however. Taehyung isn’t. He wonders idly why Jimin stayed with Yoongi the night before. Are they together? His heart falls, just a bit.

“We did pretty nicely cash-wise tonight,” Seokjin announces. “Whose turn is it to deposit the money?”

“It’s mine,” Hoseok says from the balcony. 

“Great.” He puts the cash in a leather zipper bag, and pats it, smiling fondly at it. “Alright everyone, let’s call it a night.” Taehyung and Namjoon finish mopping, at the same time Hoseok does, and everyone heads to the backstage area to pick up any bags they brought with them. Taehyung hangs back, not having anything with him. Seokjin emerges first, and he crosses the room, smiling compassionately at his newest employee. “What did you think?”

Taehyung smiles sleepily. “It was everything I hoped it would be. I’m so excited to really get started.”

“Good! I’m glad. Keep that enthusiasm. Do you live far?” he asks, clapping Taehyung’s back. 

“Um, I don’t have an apartment yet. I’m staying at a hostel not far, though.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, soon.”

“Hey Jimin,” Jeongguk calls, having heard the tail end of their conversation. The rest of them emerge from the backstages. “Weren’t you talking about getting a roommate?”

“Hey, good idea!” Seokjin says, turning away from Taehyung so he can find Jimin. “You hate living alone, and Taehyung needs a place to live.”

“Oh- no, it’s okay, I’ll get m-”

“Nonsense. This would be perfect. Jimin you can show him around the city before work, and then you both can carpool in together!”

Seokjin raises his brows, staring hard at Jimin, who looks murderous. Of course, Jimin could say no, they all know this. But it would make him look like an asshole, and Seokjin is choosing to capitalize on the fact that deep down, Jimin hates being thought of as rude. All evening he was relatively cold toward Taehyung, but he was never downright rude. Jimin glares at Seokjin, but then like a switch being flipped, his expression changes, and he turns a blinding, though quite obviously fake smile on Taehyung. 

“Sure, why not. You can cover half the rent, and that would help me out tremendously.”

“Y-yeah. Of course. I’d be happy to.” He’d been fully prepared to decline, for he can see that Jimin does not want him to live in his apartment. But the acceptance leaves his lips before he can even think, and then he can’t turn back. Secretly, he doesn’t want to.

“Glad that’s settled,” Seokjin says, smiling. He ignores the looks the others, mainly Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon, give him. “I’ll drive you to your hostel,” he says, patting Taehyung’s shoulder again. Taehyung follows Seokjin out of the club, calling out his goodbyes to the others. “Come back to the club at six tomorrow, and we’ll start your training. You’ll start to help at the bar tomorrow evening - nothing too complicated, don’t worry, and the others will be with you every step of the way. We’ll also talk about songs you’ve already got in your wheelhouse, and see if we have any other arrangements ready that you know. Day after tomorrow, on Friday, we’ll get you on stage.” Taehyung stares at Seokjin, wide-eyed as he goes through this information. A quick drive later, Taehyung is waving goodbye to his new boss as he drives away. He goes into the hostel, moving quietly so as to not wake anyone up. It’s just after five in the morning, and it’s still dark and deathly quiet. Taehyung takes a shower quickly, dries off and changes into pajamas. He collapses face first on the bed, and is out in seconds. 

Jimin stands in the doorway of his guest room. It’s empty, bare of any personality. It’s been empty for months, ever since Jeongguk got his own place and took all his shit with him. Jimin frowns at the perfectly made bed, the wardrobe sitting empty along the wall. He frowns at the alarm clock on the bedside table, the numbers blinking from when the power went out a few weeks ago. Jimin never bothered to go in and reset it. Truth be told, he avoids this room like the plague. Keeps the door closed, like he can con himself into thinking that it’s not empty. That Jeongguk still lives in there, and Jimin’s not alone all the time. 

He stares at that clock, his mood souring a little more every time the numbers flash. With a growl he propels himself into the room and picks up the clock. He turns it over in his hands, but when it’s not immediately obvious how to set it, he bends at the waist and yanks the plug out of the wall. Again he stares at it, but the blank screen doesn’t calm him like he thought it might. He puts the clock down and leaves the room, shutting the door tightly behind him. There. All better. It’s not an empty room, it’s Jeongguk’s room.

Well… apparently soon it’ll be Taehyung’s room. Jimin’s lip curls as he remembers the way he just gave up last night, agreeing to Seokjin’s ridiculous proposition. Why the fuck would Jimin want to let some random stranger he doesn’t know live in his apartment? He can afford the rent alone, with plenty to spare. Seokjin himself makes sure of that. Jimin groans, trying to get the negative feeling out that way, but it doesn’t work either. It feels like a ball of pressure building up in his chest, and any moment it’ll explode. He goes into his bedroom and picks up his pillow. Mashing it to his face, Jimin screams as loud as he can. 

When that doesn’t help either, he throws the pillow onto the bed. I need to get laid, he thinks. That never fails to take him out of his own head. But who can he call? All of his coworkers made it clear that they were not interested in fucking him - though he could tell that Jeongguk seriously considered it for a bit, during a few early morning wind-down drinking sessions after long nights at work. That wouldn’t happen now, anyway, considering how clearly head over heels the kid is for Yoongi. 

Jimin doesn’t really know anyone else. He spends all night at the club making himself appear available, desirable to their customers, but doesn’t go home with any of them. He can’t. If he did, and word got around that one of the singers at Sanguine had started sleeping with the club-goers, his reputation would be ruined. 

I could download Tinder, he thinks, and stares at his phone on his bedside table for all of five seconds before he decides against it. Jimin shakes his head, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath through his nose. He holds it for a long moment, just until his lungs begin to protest, and lets it out slowly through his mouth. That helps ease the ball of pressure in his chest, even if only minutely. Jimin stands and goes to take a shower. He knows by now that the only way to get through these moments, when he feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin or explode if he stopped moving, is to just endure. Let it pass. It always does.

A little after six-thirty, Jimin arrives at Sanguine. He pays the cab driver and climbs out without a word. He hears the cab drive off as he stands and stares up at the building. It’s a huge building, nearly sixteen stories tall. The top two levels are Sanguine. Jimin saw what Seokjin pays in rent for the space every month one time, and it was enough to make him gasp so hard he started coughing. Seokjin assured him that they make more than enough each month to cover rent and expenses while still making a profit - “That’s why I’m able to pay you so well, Jimin-ah.”

It’s in the richest area of the richest city in the whole country, of course they make enough every month. His countrymen and women love to drink, and love to party. Jimin shivers when a particularly cold gust of wind blows through, knocking his bangs into his eyes. Rather than reach up to move them away when they’ll just be blown right back into his face, he goes inside. He punches the up button on the elevator rather harshly, and stares as the numbers above the door begin to count down from fifteen. That means someone’s already there. Jimin checks the time on his phone, irrationally afraid that he’s later than he should be arriving, but no. Seokjin expects them all to be there between six and seven so they can prepare for the night to begin at nine, and it’s only six thirty-five. The elevator arrives and Jimin steps in, tapping the number fifteen gently. 

“Get yourself under control, Jimin,” he mutters under his breath. He fixes his hair, checks his face in the mirrored back of his phone case, and when the doors open into the circular lobby, Jimin hears Seokjin and Jeongguk singing through the open doors. Inside, the lights are up, and the two of them are on stage. Jimin remembers hearing Jeongguk ask if Seokjin would sing a duet with him sometime. This must be that song. To the right, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon are behind the bar. He stops, frowning slightly. Taehyung is there too. Namjoon and Hoseok are standing on either side of him, watching him make a cocktail. Yoongi is fiddling with the soundboard, his laptop open on the counter beside it. 

“Jimin-ah!” Hoseok calls when he notices his arrival. “Nice of you to join us!”

“I’m not late,” Jimin snaps back. Hoseok’s eyes widen slightly, and he stands up straighter. 

“I’m just kidding,” he says, pouting exaggeratedly. Jimin closes his eyes, sighing forcefully. 

“Sorry.”

“What’s with that stick up your butt, Jimin-ah?” Namjoon calls, and on his way to looking at Namjoon, Jimin’s eyes get stuck on Taehyung. He’s looking up at him, his brows drawn in slightly, the corners of his lips turned faintly down. Any hope of getting rid of the bad mood that started earlier in the afternoon flies out the window, and Jimin chooses not to respond to Namjoon. He walks through the club with his head held high, going backstage, and into his dressing room. If he slams the door shut a little harder than he meant to, no one was there to hear it. 

Back at the bar, Yoongi stares after Jimin with bald concern in his eyes. “Seriously, what is his problem lately?” Hoseok gripes. 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Namjoon commiserates. Rather than weigh in, Yoongi abandons his equipment, and goes backstage. Jimin’s dressing room door is closed, so Yoongi knocks once, but then goes inside anyway. 

“Hey,” Jimin whines, but there’s no force behind it, not when he sees who it is. Yoongi crosses the small room and leans against the counter, beside Jimin’s chair. He crosses his arms and stares down at his friend, his brows up. “What?”

“That’s what I wanna know,” Yoongi says, his voice soft, not trying to disguise his concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jimin says, turning to look into the mirror. He grabs his makeup bag, the one filled with his nice, expensive cosmetics that stay at the club, and unzips it. He starts to pull out everything he needs and lay them out in a neat row on the counter. Yoongi waits, watching. Once he’s unloaded almost the whole bag, even though he only needs half of it, Jimin starts to fiddle with them, straightening them, and arranging them by size. Still, Yoongi waits. “Hyung,” Jimin says softly after a long couple of minutes. “Will you do my makeup?”

“Of course, Jimin-ah.” Yoongi pulls up a chair and Jimin turns on the light that lines the outside of his mirror. They’re LED, super bright, perfect for helping him get his face on. Jimin turns toward Yoongi, and closes his eyes, leaning forward. Yoongi takes a moment to examine his friend, without his constantly dodging Yoongi’s scrutiny. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and he looks tired. “You know,” he says as he starts to do Jimin’s face. “If this is about hyung suggesting that Taehyung move in with you, you can just tell him that you’re not looking for a roommate. He can get his own place, or move in with one of us. There are other options. You don’t have to feel like anyone’s forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Jimin’s eyes peek open, but he shuts them again quickly. 

“It’s fine. If he needs a place to stay he can stay with me,” Jimin mutters. “I do have that empty bedroom collecting dust since Jeongguk moved out.” Yoongi doesn’t miss how bitter he sounds about that. 

“Okay,” Yoongi says easily. He puts down the primer he just misted over Jimin’s smooth, clear skin, and picks up the small tube of moisturizer Jimin favors. He takes his time, using both hands to gently rub it in. He uses a bit more under-eye cream than Jimin usually needs, considering how dark the circles are, and then starts in with his highlighter cream and foundation. 

“I love when you do my makeup, hyung,” Jimin says, actually looking a bit more relaxed than he did before. “You’re so gentle.” Yoongi smiles, the compliment making him feel happy. It’s been a while since he’s done anyone’s makeup with any regularity, and he misses it sometimes. He appreciates when Jimin or Seokjin ask him to help them, glad to be able to use those skills again. He appreciates makeup in general. It’s how he met Seokjin in the first place. 

Yoongi starts contouring, needing to move his chair a little closer when Jimin, who’s completely relaxed, in his happy place, leans against the back of his chair without thinking about it. Yoongi doesn’t mind. He’s just glad that Jimin doesn’t look like he’s about to either destroy something or burst into tears anymore. He’s been looking like that for a little while now - ever since Jeongguk moved out, now that Yoongi thinks about it. 

“I think it’ll be good for you to have a roommate again,” he ventures to say, hoping not to yank Jimin straight out of his calm with the observation. Jimin peeks one eye open, pressing his lips tightly together for a moment, before he relaxes his face again, letting his eye slip closed. Yoongi feels bolder when Jimin’s not looking at him, when he’s not staring him down with the sharpest gaze Yoongi’s ever been subjected to. He starts to blend, and sighs softly. “I can tell that you’ve been lonely since Jeonggukie got his own place.”

“Oh you can, can you?” Yoongi chooses to overlook the tone of his voice. 

“I know you, Jimin-ah. You don’t have to talk about it, if you really don’t want to. But remember, I’m always here for you. We all are.” He stops, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. “Namjoon told me that you called him in a panic yesterday, because you thought hyung was replacing you with Taehyung. Is that why you don’t like him?”

“I don’t dislike him. I don’t like him. I don’t have any feelings about him.”

“You know hyung would never replace you.”

“Yes. Thank you. I know. People keep telling me that.”

“Well, are you going to believe it?”

“Hyung,” Jimin says, pulling his face back and opening his eyes so he can stare at Yoongi for a moment. Yoongi stays where he is, brush in hand suspended where Jimin’s face used to be. Yoongi can see the storm behind Jimin’s eyes, can see it raging. Jimin is the strongest person Yoongi knows, because he can hold back what he now knows is a category five typhoon raging inside him. Sure, he’s been snappy lately, and in a bad mood more often than not, but if anyone else felt the way he surely does inside? They would have exploded long ago. 

“Just promise that you’ll talk to me, or anyone, if things start to feel like too much?”

Jimin stares into his eyes for a long moment, his face a hard mask. “I will. I promise,” he says finally, and he sounds like he actually means it, so Yoongi lets it go. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you called me yesterday. You called me before Namjoon, right?” Jimin nods once. “I was still asleep. Forgive me, Jimin-ah?”

“It’s fine,” Jimin sighs. He leans forward again, a silent invitation for Yoongi to continue putting on his face. Yoongi lets him relax in silence while he continues. Jimin likes to wear more makeup than either Seokjin or Jeongguk do, so it takes a little while, and Yoongi takes his time, making sure it’s perfect. 

“Okay, I’m done,” he says, setting down the brush he was using. Jimin opens his eyes, and turns to regard himself in the mirror. A wide smile spreads across his lips, and Yoongi feels better. 

“Perfect, as usual. Thanks hyung. Out of all your many skills, makeup artist is one of my favorites.” He leans forward, inspecting Yoongi’s work more closely. Then he turns, clapping his hands together in front of his chest. “Can I do yours?” Yoongi doesn’t usually wear more than a little foundation and mascara, a swipe of highlighter on his cheeks, but Jimin looks so excited, and Yoongi would give his friends anything. So he nods, and closes his eyes to let Jimin get to work. 

“Nothing too flashy,” he mutters, jumping slightly when Jimin sprays the toner onto his face without warning. 

“Oh, I’m gonna do full drag. Gonna beat your whole face.”

“Jimin-ah,” he whines, and when Jimin laughs, he smiles. 

At the bar, Taehyung smiles proudly as Namjoon sips the cocktail he just made. “It’s good,” he says, turning to Taehyung with a little nod. “It definitely takes practice to do quickly, but you’ll get it. And Hoseok and I will be back here helping you the whole time, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says eagerly, nodding. Namjoon hands him the cocktail, and Taehyung takes it. He doesn’t particularly want to drink it - he doesn’t really drink. But the idea of telling his new coworkers, at the bar he now works at, that he doesn’t drink feels just this side of mortifying, so he sucks it up and takes a sip of his creation. It’s sweet, and admittedly tastes good. If he drinks it slowly enough, maybe it won’t make him drunk on his first real day at work. 

He hears the backstage door open, and turns, setting the cocktail back down on the bar. Jimin emerges, closely followed by Yoongi, who looks amused. They’ve both got their faces made up beautifully, and Taehyung can’t help the way his eyes linger on Jimin, on his beautiful face which is only enhanced by the makeup. Behind him Namjoon laughs. “Oh hyung, you let Jimin get at your face?” Yoongi rolls his eyes, holding up his hand, his middle finger pointing skyward. 

“Taehyung-ssi, can I talk to you?” Jimin says, and Taehyung freezes. Namjoon gently nudges him, and he steps awkwardly out from around the bar. Jimin gestures with two fingers for Taehyung to follow him. They go to one of the tables on the far side of the lounge, and Jimin sits down gracefully, crossing his legs. Taehyung sits on the edge of his chair, his hands resting on his knees. 

“What’s up, Jimin-ssi?” he says after a prolonged moment of silence. Jimin stares at him, his face blank, but something in his eyes makes Taehyung feel like he’s being sized up. Like he’s something for purchase, and Jimin’s deciding whether he’s worth the price or not. 

“You can move into my spare room, but I wanted to go over a few things first.” 

Taehyung’s round eyes go wider, and he nods eagerly. “Okay, that’s great,” he says, nodding. 

“I expect you to be clean. I don’t want my apartment turning into a pigsty. Do your dishes after you cook, don’t eat my food. When you do your laundry, don’t leave it hanging for days, put it away as soon as it’s dry. There’s only one bathroom, so we’ll both have to compromise by keeping our showers short. If you want to bring people over, tell me ahead of time. If you want to bring over someone to fuck, definitely tell me, so I can leave.”

“That- That won’t be necessary,” Taehyung says, his cheeks blushing bright pink. “I don’t know anybody here.”

“Well, you will. So it stands,” he says shortly. “The living room is common space but keep it clean, you can use my Netflix, but make your own account so that you don’t mess up my algorithm.” Taehyung nods. This all seems reasonable. “Rent is due on the twenty-fifth, so transfer it to me on the twenty-fourth. When we get our other bills - utilities, TV and internet - you can send me your half and I’ll pay them. Any questions?”

Taehyung shakes his head immediately, but then opens his mouth. “When can I move in?”

“Whenever. But don’t expect me to help you move anything. I’ll get your number and text you the address tomorrow.” Jimin stands abruptly to walk away, and Taehyung watches him go, feeling very small. A tiny spark of worry blooms in his belly. He shakes his head. You’ll be fine, Taehyung-ah. Even if he doesn’t like you now, he’ll like you later. You’ve very likeable! he tells himself, and he smiles when he realizes the voice in his head sounds like his grandmother’s. He glances back to the bar, and Hoseok beckons him, so he gets up and hurries over. 

From the stage, Jeongguk watches Taehyung scurrying over to the bar. Jimin makes his way up onto the stage, and Jeongguk turns to stare at him. He looks perfect, as he always does at work, but Jeongguk can’t help but try to see beneath that veneer Jimin keeps in place. He doesn’t want anyone to see inside - but Jeongguk lived with him for almost three years. He’s seen every one of the faces Jimin wears. He’s even seen his real face. The one he doesn’t put on very often. Or rather, the one he doesn’t reveal often, because the others are just masks. Beautiful, composed, even happy masks, but masks nonetheless. 

“Are you ready to rehearse our duet?” Jimin asks, smiling, but it’s one of the fake ones. Jeongguk hesitates, shifting his weight. “Jeongguk-ah?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s do it,” he says quickly. Now’s not the time. 

“Yoongi-hyung, let’s do We Don’t Talk Anymore first,” Jimin calls, turning toward the bar. Jeongguk follows his gaze, his eyes catching on Taehyung. Once he starts living with Jimin, Jeongguk wonders how long it’ll take before he, too, learns how to see beneath Jimin’s masks. The others can, though Jeongguk knows the only one who does it as easily as he does is Yoongi, and that’s only because they’ve been close for a long time. And not as a direct result of living together and being constantly in each other’s spaces, like it was with Jeongguk. It was easy to get to know Jimin, living with him. Yoongi had it a little harder, Jeongguk reasons. He had to actually try. Thinking about it sends a small bullet of a now familiar jealousy through him, and he stares at Yoongi with barely disguised longing in his eyes. It’s not that he’s jealous of Jimin. He’s just… well. Maybe he is jealous of Jimin. Jealous because Jimin was the one who got Yoongi’s attention, and not him. Jealous because Yoongi sees Jimin as a man, because he was a man when they met. A young one, but a man. Jeongguk was still a teenager, working at the bar under the table because he wasn’t old enough yet to do it legally. He never handled liquor, he only sang and cleaned until he turned nineteen, but he was still just a teenager, and he’s afraid Yoongi will always see a kid when he looks at him. 

“Jeongguk?” Jimin says, waving his hand in front of his face. “You missed your cue.” Jeongguk yanks himself out of his own head, realizing that he’s been staring at Yoongi this whole time, and that Yoongi’s staring right back, a concerned look on his face. 

“Fuck, sorry. I got lost in my head. Can we start again?” He shakes his head, looking pointedly away from Yoongi. 

“You okay?” Jimin asks. Jeongguk nods. 

“Yup, perfect. Let’s sing.” Yoongi starts the song again, and Jeongguk sings it flawlessly. Jimin does as well, and it’s enough to lift his mood a bit. They sound fantastic together. They always have, and their duets are always extremely well received. They sing together several times a week, if not at least once every night. After they finish, Jimin tells him he wants to rehearse the new song he’s performing tonight, so Jeongguk replaces his mic on the stand, and leaves the stage. He hears Jimin call to Yoongi the song he wants to practice, Cry Me A River. The music starts, soft and subtle - this arrangement is somewhere between the original Julie London version, and Michael Bublé’s cover, soft at first, and growing into a powerful climax. This is a good song for Jimin, who is good at emoting while singing. They all are, but Jimin is especially good at it. Perhaps because he’s gotten so good at performing different emotions in his everyday life. 

Whoa, Jeongguk thinks, pausing halfway to the bar. Where did that come from? He blinks hard, and looks up, catching Taehyung glancing at him. Jeongguk chooses to let go of those thoughts, letting himself smile as he closes the distance between himself and the bar. He climbs up onto one of the stools right in front of Taehyung. 

“Pretend I’m a customer,” he says, smiling. Taehyung stares at him a moment, his face adorably confused. Then he snaps out of it, putting on a smile, perhaps what he thinks a customer service smile looks like, but is a little too wide to be sustainable for long periods of time. Jeongguk laughs softly. 

“Good evening, sir. What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a slippery nipple, please.” He laces his fingers together and rests them on the bar, his smile growing wider when Taehyung’s brows draw together in confusion. 

“A what?” 

“Baileys and sambuca with a dash of grenadine,” Hoseok calls. He steps over to the fridge and pulls out the bottle of Baileys Irish Cream, and points to the bottle of sambuca on the shelf. Taehyung grabs it, and places it on the bartop. Hoseok steps over with both the Baileys and the grenadine

“It’s a shooter,” Jeongguk says. He points to the tall shot glasses stacked on the lower shelf containing the glassware. Taehyung dutifully grabs one of those as well. 

“Okay, so with this one you want to be careful so that you’ve got the two layers.” Jeongguk watches as Hoseok shows Taehyung how to do it. Behind them, Jimin is pouring his heart out through the song he’s singing, and Jeongguk stares at Taehyung, taking in the way his eyes continue to dart up to the stage. Oh, he thinks. This is interesting.

Taehyung messes up the first attempt because he’s not paying attention, and frustration fills him. He can’t keep his attention on what he’s doing because his heart is crying out with how sad the song Jimin is singing sounds. It feels like Jimin is singing from a very personal place as he belts out the lyrics. Now, you say you love me. Well just to prove that you do, come on a cry me a river… I cried a river over you. Taehyung wants to know who he’s singing about. Wants to know who hurt him. 

“Taehyung-ah, focus,” Hoseok chastises gently. Taehyung shakes himself out of it. 

“Sorry, I- I just-”

“I know, he’s hard to look away from when he’s singing isn’t he?” Jeongguk says, smiling sympathetically. Taehyung’s face blazes, and then burns hotter when he realizes that the lights are all up, and his blush is clearly visible. Neither Jeongguk nor Hoseok comment on it, though, and he’s grateful. He tries to make the slippery nipple again, and he gets it this time. He places it onto the bar in front of Jeongguk with a flourish. 

“Here you go! That’ll be eight thousand won.”

“Fuck, the prices here are ridiculously high!” Jeongguk says in mock outrage, but then he ruins the effect with a smile and a laugh. He downs it, and then nods. “Delicious.” Taehyung exhales a breath, smiling. Hoseok pats his back.

“You’ll get the hang of it quickly, and don’t worry about tonight. You can stick to the simple drinks, and if anyone orders a cocktail that has a name, just tell Namjoon or I.” Taehyung nods. He’s not afraid to admit it, he’s nervous. This is a far cry from his last job cashiering at a grocery store in Geochang. 

Up on stage, Jimin finishes his song, and tells Yoongi which song to put on next, and without any other instructions, Taehyung’s free to watch after Hoseok and Jeongguk both wander away. He knows he’ll have more responsibilities later, but for now he thinks he won’t get in trouble if he watches Jimin’s performance. 

Taehyung doesn’t recognize this song, but it’s slow, soulful. The lyrics are full of yearning, and Taehyung can’t tear his eyes away from Jimin’s face. So far, the only time he’s seen Jimin showing any emotion is when he’s performing, whether on stage, or in front of customers. To Taehyung himself, Jimin has only ever been cold. Normally that would have immediately turned Taehyung off of him. He’s not usually one to linger where he doesn’t feel wanted, but… there’s just something about Jimin. Taehyung can feel that there’s more lingering under the surface. He’s met people like that before. People who are always performing, putting on a calm face, while inside they’re a tempest, a maelstrom of emotion and carefully held back chaos. It’s his eyes, Taehyung thinks. He can put on a mask, but he can’t hide his eyes.  

It’s not going to be easy. But, Taehyung is a patient person. He can wait, can slowly get to know him better. Taehyung likes making friends, and for whatever reason, he’s decided that making Jimin his friend is his life’s mission now. That, and becoming a famous singer, starting by working at Seoul’s premier nightclub and cocktail lounge. 

Jimin feels a little like he’s drowning in a sea of people. The club is packed, as it always is. It’s loud, full of energy and excitement. He sang perfectly, and so did Jeongguk and Seokjin, and for a little while Jimin was sustained by the high that the applause always gives him. But later, when he started making his way around the lounge, stopping here and there to talk and flirt and laugh, that feeling came back. The pressure building in his chest. He’s able to shove it back down, but compressing it only makes it worse. At first he’s not sure what triggered it. But over the course of the evening, it begins to dawn on him slowly. 

Everyone in this crowd wants to get a chance to talk to him, wants a chance to feel that little spark of connection with someone whose talent they admire, with someone whom they find to be extraordinarily beautiful. But that’s where it stops. They want to say hello, to tell him he did splendidly on stage, but they don’t want to know him. Not really. They just want to be able to tell their friends that they spoke to the Jimin while at Sanguine. Jimin isn’t a person to them, he’s part of the show. He’s a beautiful sideshow act, and everyone wants in but no one actually cares about him. And that only makes Jimin more desperate for their attention. 

Why do you yearn for validation from strangers? he asks himself at one point, sitting in a booth filled with young men and women who are loudly talking and laughing amongst themselves after spending no less than five minutes chatting with Jimin. They’re only going to disappoint you, he thinks. 

“This has been a pleasure, my friends, but I’m afraid I must move on,” he says with a fake pout, as if he’s disappointed that he has to leave. The group choruses their desire for him to stay, but he smiles and tells them that if they come back, he’ll be sure to make some time for them. He knows that even if they do, it will only be chance that brings him back to their table. As he walks away, he’s already forgotten their faces. Jimin goes to the soundbooth to stand beside Yoongi, one arm crossed over his abdomen, his hand tucked under his elbow as he holds his drink up with his other hand. Yoongi has his headphones on one ear as he mixes the music, and glances over to Jimin with a smile. 

“Having fun?” he asks. 

“Loads,” Jimin says, and he thinks he manages to sound genuine. The pressure builds in his chest, threatening to send every insecurity and negative thought he has spewing right out of him. It would be so easy to turn to Yoongi and say those three words that linger in the back of his mind, but which he hasn’t been able to bring himself to voice yet. I’m not okay. But he holds them back. He’s teetering on the edge of a precipice, and only sheer willpower is keeping him from toppling headfirst into a black abyss. 

Taehyung wakes up the next morning just past eleven still exhausted, but with a lingering sense of the excitement last night gave him. It was exhilarating, working behind the bar. It was busy, and a little overwhelming at times, but it was exciting. Taehyung talked the whole time, chatting with customers before and after the night’s performances. He learned a lot, and his mind is still swimming with cocktail names and ingredients. And on top of it all, he couldn’t stop staring at Jimin, every spare moment he had, watching him move around the room like he owns it, talking to everyone and anyone like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he has infinite smiles to give out and the confidence to give them without reservation. He watched him joking with Seokjin and Jeongguk, and caught the brief moment when he asked Namjoon and Hoseok if they were okay, considering how busy they were. He watched Jimin perform, imbuing the songs he sang with even more emotion than he did while practicing earlier, and the sheer talent rolling off of him in waves gave Taehyung goosebumps. If he could be half as good a performer as Jimin, Taehyung thinks he’ll have no trouble making a name for himself singing in this club, as Jimin so clearly has. 

Above it all, Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off of Jimin’s beautiful face and his blinding smile which conflicted so starkly with those eyes. Those eyes which are always swimming with so much under the surface. Taehyung has always prided himself on being an extremely observant person, and that’s the only reason he thinks he’s able to catch that storm raging inside Jimin, because he seems to do everything in his power to hide it from the world. 

 It’s only been two days, but Taehyung’s secure enough in himself to admit when he has a crush, one that goes beyond the immediate infatuation he felt the first time he saw him, and heard him sing. And he has a crush on Jimin. A big one. 

“Are you really going to move in with him, Taehyung?” he whispers to himself, but before the words are even out he knows the answer. Of course he is. He rolls onto his side and reaches under his pillow, where his phone spent the night. He forgot to plug it in before he crashed, so it’s almost dead, but his eyes widen when he sees a text from an unknown number. 

Unknown Number [6:15]: this is jimin. here’s the address. 

In a second message, Jimin attached a kakaomaps pin. Taehyung sits up so quickly his head spins, but it stops after a moment, and he saves Jimin’s number, and starts to reply, his thumbs flying over the screen. 

Me [11:21]: Is today okay for me to move in? 

Jimin must be awake, because it only takes a moment for the little chat bubble at the bottom to appear. 

Jimin [11:22]: yeah, that’s fine, i don’t care

Taehyung stares at the message, a small frown on his lips. Unbidden, a bit of wisdom from his grandmother floats through his mind. “You don’t know what’s going on inside people’s heads, Taehyung-ah. When people are mean for no reason, it’s almost never because they have a problem with you. There’s probably something going on inside their hearts, and they take it out on anyone they can. But you have to keep being kind to those people.” His grandmother is always right, of course. Taehyung thinks again about the storm he saw behind Jimin’s eyes. There’s something going on inside of him, and he’s taking it out on Taehyung. So, he tightens his resolve. He’s going to be kind to Jimin. He’s going to be a friend. 

Me [11:27]: Thank you again, it was really kind of you to agree to let me move in, even if it wasn’t your idea. I’ll be a good roommate, I promise! 

He hits send, and a moment later the chat bubble pops up, and goes away. It pops up once more, but then it goes away again, and this time it doesn’t come back. Taehyung plugs his phone in, and gets up to go take a shower. It doesn’t take long to get his things together - he came to Seoul with a duffel bag and a backpack, not knowing how long he would be staying - and then he checks out of the hostel, thanking the owner for her hospitality. He decides to catch a taxi to Jimin’s apartment, rather than risk getting lost on the subway. Daegu has three subway lines. Seoul has twenty-four. Taehyung looked it up, and nearly choked on his own spit. He’d rather not get lost with two big bags. He’ll work on figuring it out later. 

He pays and thanks the taxi driver once they arrive. Jimin lives in Gangnam, not far from the club, but not in the same neighborhood. It’s full of shorter buildings, but they look newer and nice from the outside. He stares up at the building that will be his new home, and realizes Jimin didn’t tell him which unit is his. Or what the outer door code is. He pulls his phone out and calls him. 

Jimin answers after five rings, just long enough for Taehyung to start to feel worried that he isn’t going to answer, and he’s going to be stranded outside. “What?” he says in lieu of a typical - or polite - greeting. 

“Uh, hi, Jimin-ssi. I’m outside the building, but I don’t know the door code.”

“Oh, shit. Right. I’m coming down.” The line goes dead, and Taehyung pulls his phone away from his ear, staring at it for a moment. He puts it in his pocket, and when he looks up at the door again, it’s opening. Jimin steps out, and Taehyung has to take a moment to get himself together. He’s wearing loose sweatpants and a sweatshirt. His hair is a mess, and his face is bare. He looks like a completely different person than Taehyung’s used to seeing. At Sanguine, Jimin is polished, completely put together. Perfect, if Taehyung were so bold. Now, he’s soft, comfortable, and with a jolt of surprise, Taehyung realizes that this is Jimin when he’s not performing. Before Taehyung arrived, he was alone at home, able to be his authentic self without eyes watching his every move. For a brief moment, Taehyung feels guilty for intruding on that. But. He needs a place to live. 

“Hi!” he says, scrambling to pick up his duffel bag again and close the distance between them. 

“Hi.” Jimin says. When Taehyung reaches his side, he turns and points to the square keypad beside the door. “The code is key-2812,” he says quickly. “Then you push the bell.” He demonstrates once, and then pulls the door open and marches inside. Taehyung scrambles to follow. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens up a note, quickly typing in the code so he won’t forget. Jimin leads him up to the second floor. The staircase is narrow, but clean, and once they hit the landing, Jimin leads him around the corner and halfway down the hall. He stops in front of a door that says 204. “This one you just put in the code and then star. It’s 9595.” He punches in this code, and steps inside. Taehyung quickly types 204 - 9595* into his note, and then locks his phone, slipping it back into his pocket. He follows Jimin inside, and his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the apartment. Jimin’s slipped his slides off - Nikes, Taehyung notes - and is waiting a few paces away, staring at him with a bored expression on his face. Taehyung toes off his own sneakers, and steps onto the smooth hardwood. Just inside the door is a small entryway, with a large floor-to-ceiling mirror on one side, and cabinets on the other. A little further in is the kitchen. Past the kitchen it opens into the living room. It’s fairly spacious, enough to accommodate the nice leather couch sitting in the middle in front of the flat-screen TV. The apartment itself is clean, and sparsely decorated. 

“This is the kitchen and living room, obviously,” Jimin says. He turns and moves down the small hallway. He points to a closed door. “That’s my room, off limits to you, which I’m sure goes without saying. That’s the bathroom, and that’s your room. If you have any questions, try to figure it out yourself before bothering me.” Jimin turns without another word, and disappears into his room, shutting the door succinctly behind him. Taehyung stares after him, feeling like he was just smacked in the face. 

“What the fuck did I do?” he whispers, feeling more than a little hurt at Jimin’s treatment. He moves toward the bathroom, opening the door and peering in, just to familiarize himself with it. There’s a large bathtub shower combo on the far end, and a single sink with a nicely sized counter. One side of the sink is filled with all kinds of products and makeup, while the other side is clear. Jimin obviously made room for him, and that helps to assuage some of Taehyung’s hurt. Even if he doesn’t necessarily want Taehyung here, he is accommodating him. 

He leaves the bathroom door open and goes to the room Jimin indicated is his. When he flicks on the light he smiles. It’s nothing special, but it hits Taehyung then that this is his. He’s never had his own place before. Even though he’s got a roommate, he’s living on his own, and not with his grandparents. He really feels like an adult for the first time. Now he’s got a real job, a real apartment in the big city. He’s going to be able to sing every night, he’s going to be making money, making something of himself the way he’s always wanted to. Who cares if my new roommate is kind of a jerk, I didn’t come here for him. I came here for this, Taehyung thinks. He steps all the way inside the room and shuts the door. He puts his duffel bag and backpack down on the bed, and sits down.

Without doing anything else first, he initiates a video call with his halmeoni, and smiles widely when she answers. “Taehyung-ah!” she cries, her already wrinkled eyes wrinkling further with the force of her smile. “Sangmin-ah, Taehyung’s on the phone!” 

“Hi Halmeoni,” Taehyung says. He watches fondly as the image on his phone moves erratically, surely his halmeoni getting up and moving toward his halabeoji. Sure enough, a moment later he can see both of them, and recognizes that they’re sitting together on the couch. “Hi Halabeoji!”

“Taehyung-ah, how are you this morning? How’s Seoul? How’s the new job?” Halabeoji asks, rapidfire. Taehyung laughs as his halmeoni lightly swats at him. 

“Let him breathe!”

“I’m good, Seoul is cold, my new job is fantastic,” Taehyung says quickly. “I wanted to call to say hi, and to tell you that I just moved into my new apartment!” Both of his grandparents crow in excitement, demanding a tour. Taehyung stands, and switches his camera around so he can show them around the small room. “I don’t have a lot of stuff yet, but after I get paid I can start to get some stuff to fill it with.”

“Don’t forget you still have all your things here, you can come get them whenever you want, sweetheart,” Halmeoni says. Taehyung hums, and opens the door, intending to show them the rest of the apartment. He starts, however, when he steps outside and sees Jimin in the kitchen. 

“Oh, hi, sorry,” he says, and Jimin stares at him. 

“Taehyungie, who’s that?” Halmeoni asks. 

“Um, Halmeoni, Halabeoji, this is Jimin, my new roommate and coworker. This is his apartment.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide when he realizes that Taehyung’s just introduced him to his grandparents. He stares at Taehyung, something akin to panic in his eyes, before he turns to fully face the camera. He bows at the waist, holding it for just a moment, and then he stands and flees. He shuts his door loudly, and Taehyung stands there, wondering what just happened. 

“Is he okay?” Halmeoni asks hesitantly. Taehyung turns the camera around so she can see his face. He shrugs, trying to keep his apprehension off his face. 

“I think so? I’m not sure… he’s a little closed off,” he explains softly, hoping Jimin can’t hear him from his bedroom. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Well, you’ll win him over,” Halabeoji says decisively. “You always do. Remember, be the kindest person in the room.” Taehyung smiles, nodding. That’s something his grandfather has told him since he was small, and words he’s tried to live by. 

“Continue the tour, Taehyung-ah!” Halmeoni says excitedly, and Taehyung turns the camera back around and continues walking around the small apartment. 

As soon as Jimin hears Taehyung’s door shut, meaning he’s gone back into his room, he emerges cautiously, looking around before stepping fully outside. He frowns at Taehyung’s door, narrowing his eyes. Why would he have thought it okay to introduce Jimin to his grandparents like that? Not that Jimin cares beyond the fact that he’s wearing sweatpants for fuck’s sake, but he was raised to be respectful and formal when meeting elders. He carefully pads back into the kitchen, trying to be silent, to go back to getting himself some lunch, but as he’s standing in front of the fridge, his hand on the door, he realizes just how ridiculous he’s being. Why should he tip toe around his own home? He yanks the refrigerator door open, gritting his teeth when the few beer bottles in the door clank loudly against each other. He grabs the salad he got at the convenience store that morning before trudging upstairs to pass out for a few hours, and takes it and a bottle of water to the table. 

Despite his irritation toward his new roommate, he feels himself relaxing somewhat. He’s still tired, not having slept nearly enough, but he’s not exhausted, and he’s looking forward to tonight. Yoongi told him he’d have his new song ready to start rehearsing tonight. His phone dings where it sits face down on the table, and Jimin picks it up, crunching on his lettuce. He unlocks it, navigating to the group chat he’s in with the other staff members at Sanguine - which Seokjin titled Famguine - and stops, staring at the screen. 

Kim Taehyung has been added to the chat. 

He stares at those little words, still chewing as a frown turns the corners of his mouth down. He swallows and stabs his fork into the remaining lettuce, but leaves it there. He takes a breath. Of course Seokjin would add Taehyung. He works with them now. 

Seokjin [12:29]: I’ve added Taehyung to this chat so he can stay up to date 

Hoseok [12:29]: Welcome!

Namjoon [12:30]: Welcome!

Jeongguk [12:30]: Welcome!! kkk

Seokjin [12:30]: Cut it out

Seokjin [12:33]: Anyway, Taehyung-ah, if you could come in a little early today you can rehearse that song you sang for your audition, if you’re feeling ready I’d love for you to sing that song tonight, just to give everyone a taste before you fully join the lineup tomorrow night.

Jimin watches the chat bubble indicating a few people are typing pop up. A moment later two messages come through right away. 

Yoongi [12:34]: I’ll be in early too, Jimin-ah wanted to rehearse his new song today. 

Taehyung [12:34]: Okay!!! 

Jimin puts his phone down and forces himself to continue to eat his salad, breathing slowly. His irritation is starting to irritate him. He doesn’t know exactly where it’s coming from, and that’s only making it worse. Obviously Seokjin didn’t hire Taehyung to replace him, so Jimin doesn’t understand why he still doesn’t like him. He sits back and closes his eyes, trying to get to the root of his distaste. He finds, after a moment, that it’s not really distaste. Not for Taehyung himself. Sure he seems a little green, a little small town, but that’s not any reason for Jimin to dislike him. No… Jimin realizes that it’s not Taehyung himself. It’s the fact that there’s someone new in his life, someone whom he had no choice but to welcome in without warning. Someone who now lives in his home, who works at his club, who’s befriending his friends. Jimin knows it’s selfish, and a little childish, but he doesn’t particularly want to share them. Not when they’re the only people he has.

After he finishes eating, Jimin gets up and rinses the plastic container out, and puts it and his empty water bottle with his recycling. He washes his fork and dries it before putting it back in the drawer. It’s only one o’clock, so he’s got several hours before he’ll head to the club, so he decides to go lie down and try to get a few more hours of sleep before tonight. 

When Jimin left the apartment, he didn’t think about asking Taehyung if he wanted to travel there together, but from the table where he’s sitting with Yoongi, he sees Taehyung walk in and it hits him that he probably should have. He’s got Yoongi’s headphones on, focusing on listening to his new song, but the movement of the back door opening and closing caught his attention, and Taehyung looks right at him. His face is blank, and he only spares Jimin a glance before he looks around the empty, brightly lit club. Jimin turns his attention back to the computer, but he notices Yoongi looking at him. “What?” he asks, and Yoongi taps the space bar, pausing the song. 

“You just looked guilty when Taehyung walked in.”

“I’m not guilty. I just…” He huffs an irritated sigh. “He moved in this morning, and it didn’t occur to me that the polite thing would be to ask if he wanted to taxi here together.” He adjusts in his seat, uncrossing his legs and then crossing them again the other way. He reaches up and brushes his bangs out of his eyes. Yoongi stares up at him. He’s slouching, one elbow on the table beside the laptop. Jimin stares back, one eyebrow raised, but the longer he stares at his hyung, the more he realizes what a dick move him leaving Taehyung behind was. “How do you do that?” he grumbles, looking away from Yoongi.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like shit for being an ass without saying anything.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says calmly, steadily. Jimin purses his lips. “I just don’t really get why you don’t like him.”

“Well, my first impression wasn’t great.”

“But that wasn’t even a real first impression,” Yoongi says. He sits up straight and his spine audibly cracks several times. “That was a misunderstanding on your part, Jiminie.”

“I know, hyung.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, or coming for you. I’m just saying, he literally did nothing to make you so irritated about him, and he’s actually a really sweet kid. He’s also part of the team now, so like it or not, he’s going to be here.” Yoongi holds his hands up in front of his chest, like he’s asking Jimin not to shoot. Jimin purses his lips, glancing toward the bar. Taehyung is leaning against the counter, talking to Seokjin. They’re the only four at the club so far, considering how early in the afternoon it still is. The club won’t open for another four hours. He takes a deep breath, sighing slowly. His irritation seeps out of him, leaving him feeling a little drained. 

“I think it’s just because he’s new,” he mumbles, and Yoongi leans in a little closer to hear him. “It’s been so nice, just the six of us for so long now. It feels weird to have someone else here with us.” His arms rest on his lap, crossed at the wrist, and Yoongi reaches in and wraps the long fingers of one hand around his forearm, squeezing gently. He doesn’t say anything, and Jimin lets himself revel in the comforting touch. 

“I understand,” Yoongi says softly, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. It’s a familiar sound, one that helps ease Jimin even more. There’s a reason he gravitated toward Yoongi all those years ago when he first came to sing at Sanguine. Yoongi’s been the best friend Jimin’s ever had. Yoongi, as well as the other four men they work with, have been Jimin’s family for a long time now, which is why Jimin’s so touchy about adding a new person to their group. He likes normal, he likes typical. He likes to be able to expect what’s going to happen, because so much of his life is unpredictable. He has no idea what to expect each night when the club fills up, has no idea what kind of people will come in and vie for his attention. He loves his job, but on more than one occasion he’s found himself in an unexpected situation he was not comfortable in, so he likes every other aspect of his life to be orderly. Expected. “I think you should give Taehyung a chance, though. It might take time, but you’ll get used to him being around. Everyone else here likes him, I think you will too.”

Jimin lets out a soft ugh, and runs both hands through his hair, knocking Yoongi’s hand off his arm when he moves. He shakes his head. “Fine. No promises. But I’ll try,” he says, turning his most polite smile on Yoongi, who just snorts and shakes his head. “Can we finish listening to my new song, now?”

But before they can start, Jimin notices Taehyung heading up to the stage. “Yoongi-yah?” Seokjin calls, and Yoongi turns around. “Can you come DJ? I know you hate it when I touch your setup.”

“We’ll finish going through your new song later, okay?” he says, turning back to Jimin, who nods, feeling just a little put out, before getting up and taking his laptop with him over to the bar counter. Jimin decides to stay where he is, but he turns toward the stage. 

He stares at Taehyung for a moment, as he fidgets with the microphone stand. He’s trying to adjust the height, but can’t figure it out. Jimin stands without thinking about what he’s doing, and jogs over to the stage. He climbs up, and steps over to him. “Can I help?” he asks, and Taehyung’s eyes flit up to him, narrowing slightly. But then he relaxes, stepping back and gesturing toward it. “You have to turn this knob here,” Jimin says, gesturing to it. “Sometimes it’s really tight because Jeongguk likes to show off his muscles and tighten it so much that none of us can get it.” He shouts triumphantly as he manages to loosen it, and then he moves the stand up a bit. “Is that good enough?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Taehyung mumbles. He doesn’t look at Jimin, and despite his feelings toward the newbie having eased a bit moments before, Jimin can’t help the way irritation fills him again. 

“Yeah,” he intones, before turning and hopping back down off the stage. He goes back to his table and sits down, crossing his legs, before he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Okay, Taehyung-ah, just like you did for me the other day!” Seokjin says, and a moment later the music starts. 

Despite his irritation, Jimin cannot deny the fact that Taehyung is a phenomenal singer. He would be downright lying if he did. He’s heard Taehyung sing this song before, but this time is different, and it takes Jimin longer than it should for him to realize that this time it’s because he’s not currently having a breakdown over the thought of being replaced while listening. He can actually take in Taehyung’s voice, and think about what an asset it will be to have him performing with him, Jeongguk, and Seokjin. Taehyung’s voice is deep, sultry, and full of soul. He thinks it would fit well with either Jeongguk or Seokjin’s voices in a duet, but he also can’t help but think about what it could sound like if they sang together. He imagines his own higher voice mixing with Taehyung’s deeper tone and he shivers. He thinks that, perhaps, he might not mind sharing the spotlight with him, if only because of the way their voices would sound filling the club together.

He also can’t help but notice this time just how gorgeous Taehyung is. He looks like he was made for the stage, was made to perform. Jimin’s limited interaction isn’t the best judge of character, but what he has seen has made him think that Taehyung is a young, naive, country boy. Looking at him up on stage, Jimin would never guess he hasn’t been singing on stage his whole life. 

Toward the end of the song, Taehyung says something in English, and as he does he opens his eyes and looks straight at Jimin, his voice even deeper than when he speaks normally, and something tingles in Jimin’s gut. He frowns. No. Bad Jimin, he chastises himself. You do not get to go from hating him to being attracted to him, that’s not how this works, he thinks. He knows he’s lying to himself. But that doesn’t stop the stubborn part of him that wants to stick to his guns.