Chapter Text
Jungkook's peers have always considered him invincible. They say he's impossible to beat and one of a kind.
At 26 years old, Jungkook has found solace in the act of beating cable rows and lat pull-down machines into submission. He has even broken records at the gym by bench-pressing over 100 kilos, which was unheard of in the tiny, rundown gym he's come to call a second home. To his dismay, the event eventually turned him into a local celebrity, much to the disapproval of the local meatheads and fellow gym enthusiasts.
The feeling of his muscles shifting beneath his skin, aching, ripping, and being reshaped anew was riveting. The aftershocks, the tremble on his limbs that lasted well over hours, and the twitching of his muscles that lingered for days after are what kept him sane. He remembers feeling proud of himself, how his brain, still drunk on adrenaline and dopamine, managed to shift focus from his mental strain to the physical pain. He fucking did it. He finished something for once.
For a moment, he felt like he was the "Invincible Jungkook" his peers had dubbed him. He felt like he could carry the world on his shoulders like Atlas and not break a sweat. He had reached a goal for the very first time and had not left it unfinished.
All of that… reduced to a bad fucking joke.
Despite the image of invincibility that others see in him, he knows he's not impervious to harm. All it takes is a flimsy piece of paper to unmake him, a tiny square that feels like it could break his fingers, wrist, and the ground beneath his feet. This stupid piece of paper feels like it can shift the world on its axis.
Together with their families,
Min Yoongi and Kim Seoyun invite you to their wedding.
August 13 of 2023 at the Min Estate in Suseon District, Deagu.
Ceremony begins at 6 pm.
The invitation he holds in his hands is smooth to the touch, feeling much like satin under his fingertips, the luxury of it undeniable. The Mins are going all out for the wedding of Min Yoongi and Kim Seoyun.
As the heir of Min Enterprises, Min Yoongi's elopement with Kim Seoyun not only represents his solidification as the next CEO but also a merger with a prominent figure of Kim Group, the daughter of its creator. Their marriage is a proper spectacle and a warning to the corporations' smaller competition: we are coming together to swallow the world raw.
The invitation glares at him from across the kitchen table like they’re on a date, and Jungkook just told it what he does for a living. It feels approachable, like a bomb about to explode. It feels like a living thing, breathing out poisonous gas, enough to contaminate his lungs with its words until he’s suffocating in it, begging for release. To be set free.
He knows that, even if he did, the words it contains wouldn’t be changed. They’d been cast down in stone before Yoongi was even born. In fact, Yoongi was only born to make sure that its words came to fruition. To guarantee that the Min sovereignty would survive for centuries to come.
Jungkook sighs, and it feels like his lungs are being crushed down by anvils as if his heart is trying to gasp for air but all it intakes is poison. It’s death.
Min Yoongi and Kim Seoyun sit across the table.
Kim Seoyun and Min Yoongi are to be married.
It’s all a joke. A bad fucking joke.
It begins like this:
The first time he saw Min Dohee was from the hidden corners of one of his exhibitions, which were usually funded by his university and organized by the art collective he was a member of.
From a young age, Jungkook was one of a kind. He had a sharp eye and critical thinking, with an undeniable artistic talent that even the fortunate both envied and recognized. It was fairly easy for him to obtain praise and attention for his skills with a camera.
They called him a natural talent, a diamond in the rough. Before even reaching his teenage years, he was declared a young genius to keep an eye on in the future.
However, all the boasting and praise eventually came at a price as, unlike their parents, the younger kids only felt envy and an odd sense of threat. As a result, Jungkook was not welcome in ‘clicks’ and friend groups, which eventually turned him into something of a social outcast.
It wasn’t awful. Definitely not as bad as one would think.
He enjoyed solitude, embraced it even. He was comfortable in his own skin, aware of his talent, and keen on improving it. He was possessive of what was his and did not desire to have others in his space. It was a lonely life, but not a bad one.
Despite his antisocial attitude and disregard for societal norms, Jungkook achieved great things before the age of 15. He was too talented to waste, which made people oddly accepting of his behavior as long as he delivered what was asked of him. And, oh, did he deliver. He was the recipient of countless recognitions by the time he got into high school and a candidate to enroll in university much earlier than expected, which eventually became a reality.
It was sometime during the final semester of his sophomore year at college that he crossed paths with the Min matriarch, Dahee.
She was an austere and severe-looking woman, though still incredibly beautiful. Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if she had been a model when she was young. Her hair was sharply cut into a bob and dyed jet black, and the click-clack of her high heels echoed across the exhibition’s halls like a warning siren before the arrival of a storm. To say she was intimidating wouldn't quite capture it.
Jungkook's section was almost always overcrowded, and the appreciative hums and whispers about his non-conforming, rebellious point of view of the world felt like background music to his ears.
It used to bother him to some degree, having the very people he’s criticizing be appreciative of his work. Their stuck-up ideals and traditional way of living were the very focus of his rage, and that much was undeniable in his art. It didn’t take a genius to recognize that. To this day, he doesn’t know what exactly it is that made him fall into their graces.
Could it be a deep, concealed desire to also break the mold? Could it be an inside joke, to make the local outcast feel accepted for once in his life because that’s all he’ll be able to achieve? Could it be that they simply don’t understand it, and act as if being ‘self-aware’ is something that’ll make their image more likable to the masses?
These were questions that tormented him to varying degrees, but as the clock ticked and he matured with age, Jungkook became increasingly more malleable. He was less prone to falling victim to his reactive tendencies and more accepting of most things. If that's what he had to do to pay his bills and ensure that his art was known to the world, so be it. He would buy a house at the beach with the money he would drain from these people. They could keep their reasons to themselves.
Min Dohee caught his eye the moment she stepped foot before his work. He was used to various expressions of awe, shock, and appreciation people made when faced with his photos. Hushed compliments, scandalized reprimands, and money offers were both usual and expected. Min Dohee, however, showed none of these things.
Her face was impassive as she analyzed Jungkook's self-proclaimed best work, a photo he took a few months prior in Itaewon, Seoul. It was a picture of a young LGBT+ couple holding hands at a street vendor. Their faces were slightly blurred, though their smiles were wide and blinding, their gazes meeting each other's, unabashed and loving. The passersby were also blurred out in the picture, stuck forever in their fast-paced lives. The focus of the photo was on their joined hands, gracefully linked, with rings glinting beneath the neon lights.
Dohee stood before the picture for many minutes, enough for other attendees to start whispering behind her back, though she paid them no mind. Jungkook was intrigued by the woman and curious about what was on her mind, though he refrained from approaching her.
The thing about these people was that they would be accepting of Jungkook as long as he didn't show his face much, as long as they could separate the work from the artist. Again, he didn't mind. He preferred it. But Min Dohee made him want to defy both that and himself.
He didn’t. He felt stuck in place, mesmerized by the woman before him. Jungkook didn’t know who she was at the time, didn’t know what she’d become to him, who her son would turn out to be, but it felt as if that moment was a turning point; a point of no return. From that moment on, everything would change.
When Min Dohee finally resumed her stroll around his other pictures, all of them of people; some crossing the street, others dancing in the rain or eating ice cream under the safety of a willow tree, it took a few moments for their eyes to meet, and when it finally happened, something told Jungkook that he’d never be the same again.
“Are you Jeon Jungkook?” the woman asked and approached him with graceful steps.
Betraying his self-preservation instincts for the very first time (at the time), Jungkook promptly answered ‘yes’ with a nod.
The woman evaluated him with a critical stare before silently staring into his eyes for a long time. Jungkook didn't dare break it.
He didn’t know what exactly she was looking for in his gaze, but whatever it was, she seemed to find it. She hummed, pleased.
“Very well. I quite like your work, young man,” she complimented, nodding at him respectfully. Her bob jumped up and down at the motion. “I’d like to hire your services.”
Uh. That was a new one.
“Excuse me?” he startled, unable to disguise his surprise. She was so polished with him that it was unnerving, almost as if she didn’t see him as a person, but more so as something to be attained. Like an opportunity.
“I believe I’ve made myself clear,” she continued. Something in the corners of her mouth betrayed her inner amusement at his reaction. “Despite your inexperience with bigger projects, I think you have a clinical eye, which is something I highly esteem. I’d like to offer a job opportunity.”
“Oh,” he said, before forcing himself to close his gaping mouth. He must’ve looked like such a loser to this painfully rich woman. He scolded himself for it for a moment. “I think we could make something work. What kind of job is it?”
“A picture, obviously,” she explained, turning around in her heels to analyze his work longingly once more. “Well, not a picture, but a few pictures. They will be spaced out from each other.”
“I don’t follow,” Jungkook murmured, bummed out at not being able to immediately understand what she was asking of him.
“To put it simply, I’d like you to take pictures of my son, my Yoongi,” she paused for a moment at her son’s name, Yoongi. Her voice was proud and strong, clearly elated at having such a figure as her son. Jungkook fought to conceal the desire to scoff in disdain.
“We come from a traditional family. Back in the day, the Mins used to be painted after reaching a few specific milestones in their lives, as a way to have each moment properly remembered. My Yoongi, however, is a new-generation man. He just—refuses to pose for paintings. Has refused, for a while now.”
“So you compromised with pictures,” Jungkook finalized, starting to understand.
“Precisely. Yoongi has just reached yet another turning point in his life and thus must be celebrated like the Min he is. I’ve chosen you to be the one to encapsulate all of this history in pictures.”
Jungkook considered, pensive. “Why not a renowned photographer somewhere? Maybe someone from overseas? Anyone would kill to photograph a Min.”
Min Dohee scoffed in a surprisingly elegant way.
“I know that which is why I’m asking you. Besides, you’re close enough to Yoongi’s age, and he might feel more inclined to… cooperate if someone like you is involved in this. That is all I’m willing to share for now,” Dohee concluded, with unquestionable finality in her voice. Whatever Jungkook said now would become his definitive answer for her.
The more he thought about it, the more appealing the prospect was. Although Min Dohee was definitely shady, and Jungkook wasn’t green enough in the game to realize that she had an agenda of her own, the possibility of having a long-term project was interesting to him. It would look stellar in his portfolio, especially given its recipient. He wasn’t lying when he said that there were a good amount of people in the industry who’d do anything for the opportunity of photographing a Min in such a personal manner.
The Mins were giants, and despite not being from their country's capital city, they were known nationwide as the main providers of technology and development in the region. To summarize, this Min Yoongi was just another chaebol who’d inherit a company worth billions of dollars and who would never give a person like Jungkook the time of day.
And it wasn't like Min Enterprises was just a company. It was the fucking company. A proper empire.
Min Yoongi would probably spit in his face.
But… whatever.
Jungkook would take his damn pictures.
“I accept.”
And that was the first time Jeon Jungkook put his future in the hands of a Min.
He’d grow to do it countless times more.
He didn’t know that yet, though.
The second time Jeon Jungkook sees Min Dohee is also the first time he sees Min Yoongi.
The woman didn’t stay around for long, obviously occupied with business. The trio met at the foot of Min Enterprises on a busy Friday morning, with office workers, security, and various other personnel walking around them. All of them took the time to respectfully greet both Dohee and Yoongi, and various "good mornings" were thrown their way in different tones of awe, respect, and mild fear.
Jungkook stood there quietly, a stranger in their nest.
Nevertheless, Dohee made brief introductions, telling Yoongi about Jungkook and his work, and giving Jungkook the basics of who Yoongi was—the heir of Min Enterprises, the apple of the Min family's eyes, their present, and their future.
The picture she painted of her son was unattainable, but to Jungkook, he just looked like a man.
Yoongi's features were both soft and sharp, slightly feline around the eyes. His cheeks were solemn and full, half hidden behind the long fringes on the sides of his face. He was dressed impeccably in a couture, double-breasted black suit tailored to perfection, with two gold cufflinks engraved with the Min ‘M’ gracefully glinting under the morning sun. His dress shirt underneath was pristine white, so much so that it pained Jungkook's eyes to look at.
Min Yoongi was the epitome of luxury, and Jungkook fought to conceal the laughter that was threatening to bust out of his chest.
Despite his appearance, Yoongi still looked like a man, a young man playing a role, like Jungkook used to do as a kid—a doctor, an astronaut, a lawyer. Acting out for his parents’ amusement, before getting bored and deciding to spend his time doing something else.
Yoongi looked like he was playing the perfect son and the perfect heir as if that was his job. Though the only difference was that he couldn’t afford to get bored and do something else. Min Yoongi would have to play that role forever. That was his job after all.
All of that and Jungkook was dressed in a beat-up, chunky sneakers, jeans, and a hoodie. Yoongi was dressed in an exclusive, runway-worthy suit.
It was honestly a little bit funny.
“Nice to meet you, Min-sshi,” he greeted, trying to be polite for once. Something made him want to give Min Yoongi the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was the far-away look in the man's eyes. Maybe it was the lack of expressions on his face, a blank canvas. Min Yoongi looked like a doll, strung by his mother’s whims. It made Jungkook pity him.
“Likewise,” Yoongi responded, so low that it made Jungkook have to lean down to hear him.
"I'll leave you both to it," Dohee said, heading towards the rotating doors leading to the company’s elevators. "Yoongi, head straight to my office once you are done. And thank you, Mr. Jeon. It’s nice to see you again.”
Neither of them responded with words, resigned to simply bow out of respect. Yoongi stayed in the position for much longer, his back bowed perfectly until his mother was well out of sight. Only then did he straighten again.
"Well, I'd like to get to know you for a bit before getting started," Jungkook began, gesturing a little awkwardly with the camera. His trustworthy Canon felt heavier around his neck than usual. "Your mother didn't leave me any directions on how she wanted your pictures to look for this project. At first, I imagined she'd want simple headshots, but looking back at our conversation and the nature of my work, I doubt that that's what she's looking for."
Jungkook was rambling.
It was uncommon for him to have assignments like this. He was usually very free with the theme of his works, exploring his point of view of the world and his inner feelings through snapshots of moments that would be otherwise lost in time. It's what he always excelled at, and what made him very famous in the underground industry, very fast. He’d like to, at least, keep some of his usual modus operandi.
Yoongi didn't say anything for a while.
He just looked at Jungkook blankly. It was difficult to get a read on him. After his mother's departure, he oddly looked like a puppet without its master, and it seemed as if he was taking the time to get some footing.
Briefly, Jungkook thought that it was probably unfair to judge Min Dohee quite like this—like a manipulative maniac. But then again, he didn't know the woman at all, and it's not like moneyed people like her were known for being good samaritans with pure intentions.
Still.
Min Yoongi looked at him. Blankly.
"Um," Jungkook squirmed, nervous. There's something about being on the receiving end of eyes that have absolutely nothing behind them that is unnerving. He'd much rather be met with disapproval. Disgust. Or even disdain. But nothing… nothing is nothing. What could he do with nothing? "Any thoughts?"
It took a moment, and Jungkook felt the need to scream. It wasn't like he was begging for the job. If Yoongi wanted to be difficult, Jungkook could just turn around, make a rather humiliating phone call to Min Dohee, and move on with his life.
He was about to continue talking when Yoongi's voice broke the silence for the first time.
"You want to—" Yoongi began, and seemingly noticed his voice was too low to be picked up by Jungkook, who stood a few meters away from him. He cleared his throat and resumed. "You want to get to know me?"
"Um, yeah," Jungkook explained, feeling a bit ridiculous. That's what he said, wasn't it? "Your mother told you a bit about how I work, right? I don't take pictures for the sake of taking pictures. My work tells a story. But for that to happen, I need to know it. At least a little bit."
For the first time since they met, Jungkook saw something flash behind Yoongi’s eyes: discomfort. Jungkook’s request seemed to take him by surprise, and it made Jungkook wonder if nobody ever asked Min Yoongi to get to know him before.
“You don’t have to tell me all your dirty secrets, don’t worry about that,” he joked, trying to break the ice. Yoongi’s eyes widened a little bit. “Just something about you. Your likes and dislikes. How your daily life is like, things like that. Actually, I’m pretty curious about the whole ‘milestones’ thing your mother mentioned. She said the Mins used to get painted, is that right?”
Yoongi hummed, shuffling on his feet. “Yes. The Mins are a very traditional family. The ancestors used to get oil paintings done of them, as a way to see the effects of time on their appearances and lives. Back then, photography naturally wasn’t the go-to art form, as it is much less glamorous than a commissioned painting by a renowned artist, and much more accessible to everyone else. It was something done mostly out of status.”
That was the most Jungkook had heard Min Yoongi speak. There was something hidden in his voice when he spoke about his family—something like detachment, like he was speaking of someone else’s family, with his use of “The Mins” and “the ancestors”. Jungkook couldn’t tell for sure.
These things, such as subtleties in speech and in mannerisms, are recognizable in others only once you reach a certain level of intimacy. Of course, there is such a thing as universal clues, but Min Yoongi seemed to be void of those. Every word out of his mouth seemed to be meticulously calculated to reach a pre-defined desired effect. Like a perfectly engineered organism.
“Makes sense,” Jungkook commented after a while, intrigued. It confirmed Jungkook’s previous observations about the Mins. That was a family that strived on showing others just how big, powerful, and untouchable they were. What else could be as pretentious as oil paintings? “Your family is… one of a kind.”
Yoongi huffed, his first human reaction to something Jungkook said. His face looked different when he did. Much more alive. And… handsome. The momentary mirth suited his features, making him look less poised.
“I guess you could say that,” Yoongi agreed, adding no further context.
Embarrassed by his improper divagations, and feeling himself starting to sweat a bit, Jungkook decided to swerve the topic into something else. Something safer.
“How about some coffee?” He proposed, clearing his throat in a tight fist. “Maybe a less formal setting would make us more comfortable.”
Yoongi considered for a moment and eventually nodded. “Follow me.”
Jungkook was guided inside the company’s nave and allowed himself a moment to be mesmerized by the luxury of it all. Given the nature of the company’s work, he expected something out of Tron Legacy, but instead, the inside of Min Enterprises was a goth architecture dream.
Pointed arches and ribbed vaults perfectly harmonized, high enough to make the tallest person in the world feel impossibly meaningless. The ornate stained glass windows that Jungkook somehow completely missed from the outside painted most of the floor and walls with all colors of the rainbow, flooding Jungkook with enough inspiration to make him want to jump out of his skin.
“Jeon-ssi,” someone called, pulling him out of his fascinated daydreaming.
With a jolt, he turned around to Min Yoongi’s carefully patient face. Something like amusement broke the blankness of his eyes. “It is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” he commented, though when he glanced around his heirloom, his soon-to-be possession, the momentary lightness in his eyes dulled, contrasting his words.
“Yes, very much,” Jungkook agreed, feeling his cheeks flush. Yoongi’s tone of voice made him feel like he was being coddled like Yoongi was trying to keep him from being embarrassed by his awed reaction. “This feels like a dream. I can’t believe there are people who get to see this every day.”
“Hm,” Yoongi considered. “Given the look on your face, I have an idea of where to take you to get your pictures done.”
Yoongi flexed his hands before folding them at his back. The posture made him look regal. He gestured behind him vaguely as if to remind Jungkook that they should keep moving. “But I was under the impression that you wanted to get to know me first.”
He seemed… disappointed, which made Jungkook fumble over himself to explain.
“Yes, of course I do,” Jungkook clarified, ignoring the curious glances thrown their way. Yoongi had to keep nodding left and right in recognition of others’ greetings and good wishes, though he didn’t acknowledge any of the people, his employees, with words. “You can’t blame me for being distracted though. And hey, I said we should go somewhere less formal.”
"Patience," Yoongi murmured, turning on his heels and resuming his earlier power walk. His back was stick-straight as he moved down the spacious lobby, the company's personnel making way before him either in respect or avoidance. The gap between the two concepts was way too thin for Jungkook to categorize, so he simply followed in silence.
It took him embarrassingly long to realize that they were being shadowed by three of the biggest, most intimidating men Jungkook had ever seen. They were dressed in all black, and although their suits were impeccable, they were noticeably a lot less luxurious than Yoongi's. They looked so inconspicuous that one could almost completely miss the tactical gear beneath the expensive-looking jackets.
Jungkook, however, grew up poor. He could recognize authority, cops, and guards with his eyes closed. He was a broke freshman once, after all, and far too used to having to resort to rather underhand means of survival.
These men, naturally, were Yoongi's bodyguards.
After a swift turn, Yoongi led him down a long corridor, which was also adorned by the ribbed vaults from the main lobby. Jungkook concealed the need to sigh, enamored. Architecture, man…
"I'll be driving this time around, da Silva."
Yoongi's instruction was met by a compliant "yes, sir" coming from the man Jungkook assumed to be da Silva. The man was flanking the Mercedes that was waiting for them at the end of the corridor which led to the Enterprise's underground parking lot.
A fucking Mercedes.
"Sit wherever you like," Yoongi said, pointing at the Mercedes as if Jungkook had missed it somehow.
The three bodyguards didn't follow them into the car, though Jungkook assumed that they'd be trailing them in a vehicle of their own. He found the feeling of being watched incredibly unnerving.
Yoongi, on the other hand, didn't bat an eye at the obvious movement around him—the little universe that seemed to bend and shape itself around his every whim. His every command. He was the center of gravity, unaware, or uncaring, of his pull.
Jungkook decided to sit on the passenger seat to keep an eye on Yoongi at all times. He was determined to find out what the guy's deal was. The reasons why he seemed to be so void of emotion and detached from the world.
If Yoongi found Jungkook's choice to sit beside him ballsy or, who knows, disrespectful, he didn't show it.
"Keep in mind that I probably can't afford the places you're used to going, Min-sshi," Jungkook quipped, mostly to assess Yoongi's response—or lack thereof.
Yoongi huffed, which seemed to be the only 'normal' reaction he was capable of. "I will be paying."
"Very kind of you."
To that, Yoongi did not respond. His face and posture were back to their default impassiveness. The Rolex on his wrist caught the light every time he maneuvered the steering wheel, tiny diamonds making spots of silver decorate the complicated-looking dashboard of the Mercedes. Jungkook had to turn away not to stare at him, feeling flushed.
Out the windows, the concrete walls of the parking lot were decorated with the Min’s signature "M".
Jungkook, once again, felt entirely out of place.
Yoongi eventually took them to a rather simple café downtown. It was a hole in a wall more than anything, unsuspecting to host such an important figure in its confines. Yoongi seemed to know the owner, greeting the young man with a polite "Good morning, Taehyung-ssi" that surprised Jungkook.
The drive there was painfully awkward, though Yoongi's demeanor didn't show much of anything, which seemed to be usual for him. To Jungkook, however, the silence got stifling to the point where he felt the need to ask Yoongi to turn on the radio.
“You know the owner?” Jungkook asked once they were finally seated. The bodyguards disappeared somewhere in the room, though Jungkook knew for certain that they were within reach.
Yoongi had led them to a relatively hidden table in the far corner of the café, which had a pleasant atmosphere and wide, open windows. The breeze outside caressed Jungkook’s skin, calming his nerves down. He had left his equipment in the Mercedes, and the lack of the familiar weight on his back and around his neck made him feel naked and ordinary.
“Yes,” Yoongi responded, casually looking over the menu, not meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “I come here often.”
“It’s a nice place,” Jungkook commented, eyeing the earthy palette and furniture around the room. There were intricate, colorful art pieces on the walls, signed by ‘Vante’, whom he didn’t immediately recognize.
Yoongi hummed.
“Do you not speak?”
Jungkook wanted to see just how far he could push before Yoongi reacted in a way a normal person would.
Despite not being outwardly rude to Jungkook, the man was agonizingly stoic. Jungkook had never met someone like that before. In fact, other than Min Dohee, he had never met someone this rich and important, so it wasn’t like he was an expert on chaebol behavior.
What he knew of them came from third-party interactions, like when their assistants approached Jungkook with an offer for a picture, or when they wanted to redirect their commentary on their art back to him. There was always an intermediary in these relations, and they were all transactional. He had never shared space with any of them for longer than necessary.
Still, there was something about Min Yoongi that was intriguing. Away from his mother’s influence, he seemed more independent and in control—though still just as uncooperative when it came to conversation.
Jungkook was an introvert himself, so he could vaguely recognize similar traits in Yoongi.
The way he seemed to speak only when he was spoken to, and only when strictly necessary. The way he was respectful towards employees and staff, but not overly friendly. And the way he walked fast, with purpose, showcased his incredibly analytical approach to his every moment as if he was hyperaware of everything he did, of how he would be perceived by others. Jungkook could sympathize with that. He was much the same, after all.
However, the dull look in his eyes and his permanent lack of expressions were intriguing. Jungkook didn’t know if the man was simply incapable of feeling or if he felt too much, to the point where everything just became mush in his head. Since one cannot possibly know where to begin with such a mess, you just do nothing with it. You live in a permanent state of numbness.
“I do speak,” Yoongi said, handing the menu over to Jungkook’s waiting hands. “Though usually of work.”
“Oh, I bet,” Jungkook considered, tsking from beneath his teeth as he figured out his order. “That’s no fun though, Min-sshi. You must have other interests, right?”
Yoongi shrugged. He looked like he wanted to say something, though nothing ever came out. He simply folded his hands over the table, quietly observing Jungkook as he evaluated the rather delicious menu.
“Alright, if you wanna be mysterious, I’ll start,” Jungkook quipped before being kindly interrupted by one of the café’s employees.
The young man (not Taehyung) sported a head of orange hair and an apron so colorful that it was difficult to look at directly. It had a cute, tiny pin of a smiling sun in one of the straps. He swiftly took their orders with the brightest smile Jungkook had ever seen before quickly dismissing himself.
His absence was oddly noticeable, despite only being beside them for a minute at most.
“Well, okay. For starters, I’m Jeon Jungkook, I’m 21, and a photographer,” he began and mirrored Yoongi’s posture, his folded hands on the table. “But you know all of that already. Hmm, what else? I’m about to start my third year of photography, and I’m wondering if I should minor in dance or not. Um. I was very broke a few years ago, but now I’m doing quite alright and rented my own apartment. It’s nothing fancy, but it does the job. Oh! Other than photography, I play games online. I have my own channel on Twitch and everything, and the revenue from that isn’t much, but it pays the bills—”
Yoongi took in his rambling politely, and maybe Jungkook was deluding himself, but the man actually looked a bit interested. To say the least, he seemed intrigued. His eyebrows shot up at every word Jungkook said, making his sharp eyes more visible from behind the long strands of his hair.
“—and I’m a bit of a gym addict? I don’t usually go to the gym as it’s difficult to find the time, but it’s pretty helpful when I’m in a whirlwind. Besides, it’s more accessible than other activities. And I don’t have a lot of friends either, so it’s not like I have much else to do.”
Somewhere along his monologue, not-Taehyung returned to deliver their orders—Jungkook waved his tableware around as he spoke. Vaguely, he wondered if that was improper table manners and if Yoongi thought that he looked like an ogre dining with the royal family. Hah. What an analogy.
However, as Jungkook spoke, Yoongi simply nodded, hummed, and made other sounds to assure Jungkook that he was listening. He was undoubtedly a very talented active listener.
Jungkook wondered just how many deals Yoongi must have closed with such a talent and if that was a mechanism that he used often. Odds were that that was actually the case.
“You speak a lot,” Yoongi observed, clearing his throat. And although the words were blunt, he somehow managed not to sound abrasive. It truly seemed to be an honest observation. “It’s been a long time since I’ve conversed things other than business.”
“How long?” Jungkook asked, deciding not to point out that he was the only one talking before.
“Long,” Yoongi murmured, lifting his mug of piping hot Americano to his lips. “More than I can recall.”
“And why is that?” Jungkook wondered, intrigued by the back and forth. It was the closest thing to an actual conversation that they had up to that point.
Yoongi considered his words for a moment, seeming to take them in. His hands seemed unable to be kept still, always touching something; his cufflinks, his downturned phone, the napkins…
“I can afford many things,” Yoongi said, looking Jungkook directly in the face for the very first time since they met. “Most things,” he corrected. “Except being idle”.
“You work… all the time?”
Yoongi confirmed with a nod, taking in Jungkook’s appalled response with amusement breaking briefly through the apathy of his eyes.
“But there must be something. Something that brings you pleasure, that you do because you like it. Something unrelated to work. Right?”
Yoongi didn’t immediately respond, though he seemed to be considering.
The man looked out the opened windows, taking in the nature that peeked through the grey of the cityscape. The breeze combed the long strands of his hair, making some more of his face visible to Jungkook’s attentive eye. He had a great profile. His jaw was definitely sharp, but there was a softness in the curve of his cheeks. His small nose was round and perfectly shaped, and his lips curved slightly upwards at the ends.
Yoongi had one of the most remarkable features Jungkook had ever seen, a juxtaposition of opposites. Soft but sharp, small but round, plush but gentle. And those eyes were something else entirely. Feline and small, but still attentive. A deep brown slightly honeyed at an angle.
Beautiful. And void.
“I like reading,” Yoongi murmured after a while, so low that Jungkook had to lean forward to hear him. “Or… used to. It’s been a while since I’ve read something for the sake of it.”
“That’s good, that’s a nice thing,” Jungkook encouraged, and opted then to not mention the fact that he personally absolutely loathed reading. “What was the last book that you read and that you really loved?”
Yoongi fumbled with his hands.
“It was Dune. Have you read it?”
“Oh, definitely not,” Jungkook chuckled. “—but I have seen the film,” he quickly added. “The one with Timothée Chalamet, right? And Jason Momoa? Zendaya?”
Yoongi nodded.
“I haven’t seen the film, but there are good reviews.”
“Oh, it’s the best. The history is so interesting. It got me invested in the politics of it all. The whole idea of the Spacing Guild and the use of the spice was very cool.”
“The Spacing Guild is very interesting indeed,” Yoongi seemed diverted, as if aware of something that Jungkook was not. “Did they show the members of the Guild in the film?”
“Um, not that I can recall,” Jungkook tried but remember, but all that came to mind was the gear some of the people who went to Caladan to deliver the Emperor’s words were wearing and the suits that looked like the ones worn by astronauts. “Why?”
“Nothing,” Yoongi said, shaking his head. Did he look… entertained?
“You clearly know something I don’t,” Jungkook huffed. The conversation was oddly nice. “And hey, you said you work all the time but you’re still here with me talking about Dune and drinking some coffee. How about that?”
“This is work,” Yoongi clarified. His voice was monotone as ever, though his eyes seemed to look a little brighter. Maybe it was a trick of the light. “This is so you can get the job done accordingly. And besides, the outcome of the pictures will be released to the press in an article, and will also be added to the company’s website.”
Jungkook nodded. It made sense. “Min Dohee-sshi wasn’t very clear about anything. The briefing she sent me basically formalized what she had already told me in person.”
“Sounds like mother,” Yoongi said. He looked weary all of a sudden, and Jungkook berated himself for dampening the almost easy-going atmosphere between them. “She has an agenda of her own in this. I did not actually think she’d find alternatives.”
“Wait, do you mean that you refused to get that painting she mentioned on purpose? To see what she’d do?”
“It sounds a bit ridiculous,” Yoongi cleared his throat, once again preoccupied with his cufflinks. It seemed to be his go-to thing to do when cornered.
Their outing wasn’t going entirely how Jungkook imagined, but he couldn’t say that he was disappointed. Much like he anticipated, Yoongi was a real person underneath the pretenses, with real desires, likes and dislikes, and perceptions. He wasn’t a puppet or a machine.
Min Yoongi was, however, programmed to a certain lifestyle. To live every day as if it was the same day. Wake up, go to work, go back home, and go to sleep. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat.
Somewhere along the way, interests such as reading and who knows what else, were left behind, Min Enterprises overshadowing it all. But despite everything pointing at the opposite direction, Jungkook just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to the man.
Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe that was Jungkook trying to justify his interest in Min Yoongi so as to not feel like a traitor to his own ideals.
“I did not demand pictures though,” Yoongi clarified. “I just said I wouldn’t pose for a painting specifically.”
“Did you used to?”
“Yes, many years ago,” Yoongi said, seeming to recall such times. They did not seem to be good memories. “As I got older, the concept gained new colors. I know the paintings are hung on the walls of a long corridor at the office, an odd-looking shrine for generations of Mins that employees see all the time during the day.”
“That sounds… excessive.”
“And it is. It’s more of a symbol as I explained to you before. Status,” Yoongi explained, gesturing with his hands vaguely. “It’s a reminder that no matter how far you go in the corporation, how high, there will always be a Min commanding you. There will always be a Min to serve.”
Jungkook whistled, taken aback by the words.
The man was basically admitting that his family was made up of employers that created a parasitic wheel that has kept them on top for generations, and that would continue to do so for many more. Yoongi said this unabashedly, with his characteristic deadpan-y tone of voice, as if it meant absolutely nothing.
And it probably did mean nothing to him. After all, how could one compete against such heritage? Yoongi would inherit an unparalleled empire. Enough to make him a powerhouse in the country and, who knows, maybe even in the world.
And there he was.
There they were.
Sitting facing each other at a hole-in-the-wall café, Min Yoongi told him about his family’s history as if that meant absolutely nothing. As if the knowledge he was bestowing onto Jungkook, this insight into his family’s motives, was something to share carelessly at a café table.
Min Yoongi made a strange picture.
Jungkook didn’t know if the man was aware of how big of a contradiction he seemed to be, or if that was just yet another role that he performed for people like Jungkook, who just didn’t know better.
Jungkook had no illusions, he knew that he was not politically trained. He knew that his beliefs were based on knowledge gathered from his own experience and extensive, personal research.
That was the first time that he was faced with such a powerhouse, a real political animal. Because at the end of the day, that’s what Yoongi did. That’s what businessmen did. They made politics. They were the minds that designed the structure that the hands at the bottom would have to build.
Men like Min Yoongi were at the top of the chain.
“You must find me repulsive,” Yoongi murmured then, seeming diverted. He had been watching Jungkook's introspective silence, looking at his facial ticks as if to find a clue of what was going on inside the younger man’s head.
Jungkook didn’t think he was very successful though. There were many unsavory things inside his head, so much so that he couldn’t completely absorb them himself.
“A little bit,” Jungkook admitted, to which Yoongi simply nodded in understanding. “Though I must say I’m also… surprised with how you speak of these things. You don’t peacock about it. Call me crazy, but it almost sounds as if you don’t like being a part of it.”
Yoongi hummed, considering, before looking out the windows once more. The sun made his long, dark hair look a tad auburn.
“There isn’t much to like in this world,” Yoongi said in resignation. “All we can do is make the most of what we have. I have money, power, and influence. You have art, passion, and freedom. It is what it is.”
“And what do you intend to do with your money, power, and influence?” Jungkook asked.
Yoongi made him feel like an exposed nerve. For a wild moment, it felt as if Yoongi was trying to get a rise out of him on purpose.
But what kind of motive would a man like Min Yoongi have to shock someone like Jungkook?
“That is the question of the hour, isn’t it?” Yoongi quipped, back at fondling his cufflinks. Jungkook eyed the way the pads of his fingers lingered at junctions the Min’s ‘M’ carved in the gold. Yoongi looked displeased. “I guess we’ll have to see.”
“I guess so,” Jungkook sighed, overwhelmed at the charged conversation. “Switching topics a little bit, what position are you in right now?”
“As of today, I’m a Finance Senior Analyst. And on Monday, I’ll be a Finance Business Manager.”
Jungkook had no idea of what that entailed, though the term ‘Manager’ definitely gave him some idea. Yoongi was officially on the path to becoming ME’s next CEO.
“Sounds important. Will you be leading many people?”
“Yes. Other Senior Analysts, much like my current self,” Yoongi explained. “I’ve had the opportunity of being a member of some other teams as an intern, which was fine, but Finances were meant to be my career.”
“Meant to be?” Jungkook asked, immediately catching onto the wording. “Did you not choose?”
Yoongi sighed, seeming disappointed for the first time. Jungkook unexplainably felt embarrassed at causing such a reaction from the man, as if disappointing him was the worst thing he could possibly do. He wondered if that was how Yoongi’s employees felt, and with a start, he realized that he technically was Yoongi’s employee now.
“I told you before that I can afford most things, except being idle. I’d like to make an addition to that,” Yoongi said, and the weight of his eyes on Jungkook’s felt physical and peculiar like being watched by an all-seeing deity. Like Yoongi could see right throw him.
“I can afford most things, except the luxury of being idle and selfish. My path in this life, my choices, my relationships, and my career, were mapped out long before I came to be. I am here simply to put such projects into motion. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Damn.
Honestly… Jungkook felt bad for the man.
At first, he wondered if that was Yoongi’s objective in the first place, to have Jungkook pity him somehow and take it easy on him. But on second thought, Yoongi wouldn’t profit much from this, which is far from what the average businessman would want. That only left Jungkook with the realization that Yoongi was telling the truth.
He acted like everything was nothing, and meant nothing because that was what he truly believed. Min Yoongi thought that his life was meaningless because it had already been mapped out for him before he was even born. Even if he did not come to be, someone else would, and that someone would be the one in charge of following the path that he was now on.
Jungkook may not have what Yoongi had, definitely not his power, his wallet, and his name. But Jungkook had a choice. He could be whoever he wanted to be. He had his family’s support, and undeniable talent, and he was crafting his own little life with his own hands. Jungkook felt as if his life was completely and thoroughly his, or closest to that as possible.
Yoongi, on the other hand, did not create any of the things around him. He did not shape or influence them. It was all handed to him already perfectly crafted.
And Jungkook was not naive, he didn’t underestimate money. He has never glamourized having to live paycheck to paycheck. He didn’t gloss over poverty and lack of opportunity with pretty words and idealism. He knew for a fact that anyone else would kill to be Min Yoongi, to put their hands in some of what he had.
But would Jungkook? Would he do it? Would he sell his soul for a Mercedes and a corporate building with his name? The questions were left unanswered by his mind, but in his heart, he knew that he wouldn’t sell himself out for anything. Not for all the money in the world. And maybe that was a good-enough answer. That was the main difference between them boiled down to basics.
Jungkook had been on the receiving end of disdain by people like Yoongi and Dohee all his life. He had only ever seen them as faceless entities who had nothing but greed in their minds. Nothing but an endless void inside their chests, and an innate desire for more and more. A dissatisfaction and thirst that could never be quenched.
But Min Yoongi wasn’t faceless. Min Yoongi was the man right across the table, looking at Jungkook with dead eyes as if he was a walking corpse. As if he was nothing.
And the thing is, Min Yoongi actually did believe that he was nothing.
“You know, Min Yoongi-sshi, meeting you has put a lot of my previous beliefs in check,” Jungkook murmured, deep in thought. “You ruined my good night’s sleep tonight.”
Yoongi hummed, and the corners of his mouth stretched into a small sneer that looked oddly good-humored.
“I am to please.”
Just as Jungkook opened his mouth to respond, they were interrupted by Yoongi’s phone vibrating.
The other man glanced at his phone for a brief moment before nodding to himself. “We should head back to the office. Business won’t wait, and we still have to take your pictures.”
“Our pictures,” Jungkook corrected. “But yes, of course, lead the way.”
Yoongi simply nodded and got up, Jungkook following him in his suit back to the café’s entrance.
Not-Taehyung and Taehyung were gathered behind the modern-looking coffee maker, seemingly too deep in conversation to notice them at first. The gossip looked intense, Taehyung covering his mouth with a fist in a fruitless attempt to cover up the wide smile on his giggling face.
Jungkook was surprised when all they did was say their goodbyes, and invite them to come back soon. Yoongi wavered on his feet, looking as if he was holding himself back from responding to the duo’s warm regards.
Opting to keep his thoughts to himself, Yoongi nodded in agreement, a small “thank you” escaping from his thinning lips. It looked like he was swallowing back words.
“You too, Jungkook-ssi. You’re welcome here anytime,” Taehyung said, a wide smile back on his lips. Not teasing in secret like a few moments before, but warm and genuine.
Not-Taehyung’s response was an ever wider, open-mouthed laugh that made Jungkook dizzy for a second. For the first time, he noticed the nametag on the man’s apron introducing him as “Hobi”.
“Thank you, guys. Will do,” Jungkook answered, bashful. His cheeks felt warm.
Resigning from the conversation, Yoongi walked past the small reunion, checking his watch and phone simultaneously, looking very much like the busy businessman that he was. Jungkook should feel guilty for holding him back from the office for so long, but needless to say, he felt none of the sort.
Not only were they technically working as per Yoongi’s words, but this was also necessary for the project long-term.
Getting to know each other better would make the pictures that much more real, and not unlike what the Mins were used to, considering that this whole thing wasn’t supposed to be a mediocre headshot and, instead, a representation of the timeline of Yoongi’s life, who he was at the time, what he represented, and what he felt. It was imperative that they approached this with the seriousness it deserved.
Or better yet, the sensitivity it deserved.
Yoongi could not enjoy his life, nor himself, but Jungkook saw something there that was worth getting to know and eternalize. Besides, if all of this ends up meaningless in the end, if all else fails, at least he’d have these moments in his memory forever.
That’s what Jungkook craved, and that was what attracted him to photography in the first place.
Moments like these, these emotions, cease to exist if no one’s there to remember them. They don’t exist if nobody’s there to observe. To Jungkook that feels like murder. To have something, someone, go by unnoticed was almost as if letting them die. As if giving them up to oblivion.
Jungkook always thought that things were way too ephemeral. His goal was to make sure that they remained.
He’d make sure that Yoongi remained, regardless of the man’s personal feelings and inner turmoils. Someone will remember him.
“Hey, you’re not gonna pay?”
“I already did.”
“Oh. Didn’t even notice.”
“You get too much in your head,” Yoongi commented, bowing his head to the bodyguards that accompanied them back to the Mercedes.
From the back, it looked like Min Yoongi was miles away—unattainable, impossible to ever reach. He looked bigger than the world itself. He made a strange picture, but one that was slowly piecing itself together in Jungkook’s mind.
If his assumptions were true, only time would ever tell.