Chapter Text
The first delicate flakes of snow continue to fall. It's not heavy, it rarely is, but now that it's almost been an hour, the asphalt starts to disappear, little by little. Soon enough the whole road will be covered in thin snow.
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Jimin pulls on his scarf tighter and looks out to the street. London is more alive at night. Brighter than during the day — the streets are littered with lampposts on every corner, and the street vendors each have their own couple of gas lamps hanging on their carts. And as Christmas gets closer, it gets infinitely brighter too with all the Christmas lights hung around the town, on every pole, and every window.
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It's around seven o'clock, Jimin recalls seeing on the wall clock of the tailor shop before heading out.
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He's glad he had the mind to grab his scarf on his way out of his flat, else he'd be freezing to death by now, grip tight on his umbrella which he now resorted to using as a cane — he expected rain, not snow.
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He doesn't know what he's waiting for exactly but it's been five minutes now since he got out of the shop but he doesn't feel like leaving yet. But Jimin doesn't have any choice; his glasses are starting to fog and it really is cold.
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Seokjin's probably already worried but it's not his fault his instructions weren't clear. It's not like Jimin goes out to get a suit tailored every other week for him to know what exactly to do, to say.
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Alas, it's done and it's with a shiver that he starts walking, the umbrella under his armpit, and the black bag with his hyung's suit on the other, keeping to himself and careful not to bump into any of the hurried people around him.
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He welcomes the familiar chime of the bell above the door as he pushes it open. Jimin almost moans when he feels the warm gush of air and smells the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
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Once he steps foot inside, he props the umbrella beside the door, wiping the soles of his shoes before stepping further — he's been scolded quite plenty of times to forget now. Besides, the floor seems to be newly polished, dark brown wood coated with translucent wax.
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The shop looks small from the outside but inside, it's spacious. The walls of glass windows on the sides are lined with long counters, suspended on the brick walls, with multiple bar stools under. The ones on the front, however, are lined with booths. Then a few more tables are scattered around the shop. But customers mostly want to sit at the counter so they can watch the workers make their orders.
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It's cozy inside the shop, the overhead lights a warm yellow instead of bright white. The sound of the record player with the white noise from where the workers are working behind the counter is a pleasant combination in the ear.
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Jimin loves it here.
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"Yah." He turns his head to the counter and watches as Seokjin ducks under it, walking up to him, "I was worried."
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"I know, hyung," he sighs, lips pulled into a tight smile. "Sorry. Instructions weren't clear."
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Seokjin dusts his shoulders off and makes a motion for Jimin to remove his coat but he shakes his head. "Not my fault you weren't listening," he says. He's focused on Jimin's hair now, dusting off flakes of snow. "You sit there and I'll make you something, give me that."
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Jimin hands him the black bag and sits on one of the empty stools.
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"How'd it go?" he hears his hyung ask.
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Jimin thinks of the worker who assisted him. No one seemed to have an interest in him at all when he entered the shop so he had to take it upon himself to man up and cough to get the attention of one of the seamstresses. They immediately came to him, words laced with thick accent, "Good evening, sir."
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"Went dandy. I was merely confused at first with all the options the seamstress was giving me, but I ended up just handing them the paper you gave me instead," he answers, shrugging.
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"Good, thank you, Jimin."
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He hums. "Now, where's my payment."
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Seokjin chuckles before placing down a small plate in front of him – pie and mash, with the liquor already poured – then a cup of hot chocolate. Jimin dislikes the taste of coffee.
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"Your favorite, sir."
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He smiles in return before holding the cup of hot chocolate between his palms. "What time is it again, hyung? This party you're talking about."
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"Tomorrow, seven in the evening," Seokjin answers curtly, busy with a task.
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"Hmm, and then."
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"Are you asking me to tell you more about it?" A fork is placed on his plate and he chuckles, realizing his hyung was looking for his favorite fork.
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"This is still here?" he laughs, before starting to eat. "And yes, please tell me more."
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Instead of answering, Jimin watches as Seokjin pulls out a letter from his apron. He puts his fork down, takes the letter to his hand, and looks at the intricate design of the seal wax, it doesn't say anything but Jimin admires it for a few good seconds before taking the letter out.
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He reads the address of his hyung's house on the top right of the letter followed by the date from three days ago, December 17, 1962.
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He skims over the letter, skipping over the pleasantries. It seems that the sender is a friend of Seokjin or at least an acquaintance from the informality of the letter.
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"Gather again?" he reads out loud, "Are you friends with everyone there?"
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Seokjin sits across from him behind the counter, chin on his palms, "I would say 'friends' is stretching it. I just know them, may be from face or name, and only a few am I close with, and I am not even certain they would be there," he answers. "But I don't want to decline. Party is party."
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Jimin shrugs. "Well, it didn't say here why the party will be held." He sips on his cup and plays with his food. He likes doing it but it's one of his many bad habits the older helped him get through so he stops once he realizes and starts eating.
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"The host will get married soon. Does Lewis ring a bell?" Jimin shakes his head. "Thought so, I don't have much contact with him despite living in the same city, he's not the nicest."
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"Well, why are you going?" he asks before stuffing his mouth full. He doesn't want any more and Seokjin seems to sense it so he pulls it to himself and starts eating it.
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"Party is party."
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"Yeah, well, I hope you relish that party of yours. I'm going now, hyung," he says, standing up, and grabbing a piece of paper towel to wipe his mouth. It's such a waste, he's not even halfway through his cup. "It does not seem like it will stop snowing anytime soon."
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Seokjin stands up with him and turns back around to start working again with his plate and cup on hand, brushing him off with a wave of his hand, "Off you go, kid. Are you coming here tomorrow morning?"
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"Yes, I will!" he shouts as he steps foot outside, grabbing his scarf and umbrella on the way.
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Things seem to be in a hurry these days; Jimin just escaped the cold claws of December breeze and now he is under its mercy again, a mere scarf his defense. People all around him move heedlessly, fast, maybe a little too much, and they are but a mere blur in his eyes, faceless.
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Jimin pauses for a second and looks out to the road. There are still too many people, the Christmas lights on the poles are still open, bright and blinding — London is still awake, now more than any other time of the day. Jimin pockets both of his hands and goes on his way, wishing he feels the same way about Christmas as everyone else seems to.
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"It's about ten in the morning now, Jimin. Are you not planning on leaving? You've been here for hours," Seokjin complains, one hand on his hip. "Why don't you go find a job?"
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"I just got out of school."
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"No, you dropped out," Seokjin corrects.
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Jimin rolls his eyes and gathers his scattered belongings in front of him, just a notebook and a few pens. He has been wanting to write, anything at all, but nothing seems to be enough inspiration for something to come out of his mind and onto his hands. It happens all the time, whenever it's Christmas season.
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He leans over the counter, squinting his eyes to the older. "Fine, I'll leave. Make me hot choco first though."
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He averts his gaze and hears Seokjin sigh. "Finally, a customer," he says, head tilting, "Wait up, sir, we're becoming pretty busy as you see."
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And Jimin does, he notices people starting to pour in, slowly, not enough to fill the place but enough for the workers to move a little faster. He watches his hyung take order after order from the customers behind the counter. He deals with that and he's good with it, the rest of his workers are the ones who make the orders. Says it's so they could learn every day. But Jimin is an exception, Seokjin likes to tell him, because no one's prepared Jimin's order ever aside from Seokjin.
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Jimin looks back to the door just as the familiar chime of the bell fills the entrance of the shop once more.
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His gaze pins on the tall man who enters the shop, his presence impossible to ignore. Immediately, his eyes skim from head to toe. The man is wearing a white long-sleeved shirt tucked in a rich, deep emerald green flared pants with stripes. Chic.
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But quite questionable, given the weather. It's not snowing but Jimin can see his breath whenever he exhales. It must be cold – it is, despite the warm interior of the shop – and even colder outside.
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He looks at the man's face and sees a glance of a lit cigarette tucked between red lips before averting his gaze.
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Jimin thinks he stared many seconds more than necessary because he can see the man looking at him funny from his peripheral vision. He fights off the urge to look back and raise his eyebrow.
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A few seconds pass before a worker comes up to the man, quite hesitant. He seems new, Jimin doesn't remember him. He stares back down at the completely blank page of his notebook save for a few scribbles, ears open to what the worker says, "Sir, you cannot smoke here."
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He sees the man lean back, arms crossed, before answering, "'s that so?" The man asks, and althought it is obviously rhetorical, he seems to wait for an answer so the worker nods his head, murmuring Yes, sir. "Alright, I will be back," comes the smooth reply befort the man pushes his bar stool back and stands up. The worker scurry to go back to work after he turns around.
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Jimin doesn't know what he expects the man's voice to be like but it definitely isn't that deep, rich, and almost velvety smooth. He almost shudders. He can feel it tickle his brain and Jimin almost laughs at the absurdity of that.
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He stays still, waiting for the chime of the bell once more. He hears it a few seconds later. The man sits again, just one seat between them. And just in time, Seokjin comes back to him, placing down a mug of hot chocolate in front of him.
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Before he can thank the older, he hears the man speak.
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"Seokjin."
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Both he and Seokjin turn to the man at the same time.
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Jimin gets a proper look at him now. He isn't British, that much is evident, but rather Korean and Jimin is surprised. He has yet to meet another Korean after Seokjin, and there were only a few of them in the orphanage.
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The man's eyebrows are dark, nose tall, jaw unbelievably sharp, skin tan, lips that red he saw earlier, and there seems to be an ever-present smirk on his face. His hair is also a dirty blond, parted in the middle, and swept to the side. Moles litter his face but Jimin's eyes pin on the one on his bottom lip. The man is handsome, that is undeniable.
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But Jimin sets aside his amazement and looks at Seokjin hoping to get rid of his confusion but it seems that both of them are surprised.
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"What are you doing here?" Seokjin asks, eyebrows between pinched and arched.
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He sees the man smile, quaint and charming. "'S that what you ask your customers?" he asks, voice as deep. Jimin notices the heavy accent and there's a tilt to his voice, so condescending. His eyes flit between the two of them, he feels like he's eavesdropping.
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"Of course not, but you are no customer, are you now?" Seokjin asks back, confusion gone, and replaced with spite. Jimin almost lets out an ow but he stops himself.
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"C'mon now, dear, it's cold and I want something to drink," the man says with a smile in his voice. Jimin is taken aback by the endearment but people here tend to throw such words at anyone they're talking to so he brushes it off.
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Seokjin seems to be reluctant but huffs and fixes his stance, "What do you want?"
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The man leans on the counter and props his chin on his palm, looking at Seokjin. Jimin's gaze remains fixed on his hot choco he still hasn't taken a single sip from. He lifts it up to his mouth and drinks and is met with dismay— it's lukewarm already.
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"Hm, are you asking for my order or do you want to know—"
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"Order, please."
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The man pauses and smiles once again, eyes twinkling with unexplainable delight and Jimin can sense how bothered his hyung is so he kinda wants to punch the charming smile off the man's face.
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"Alright, just 'cause you said please," the man says before he takes a quick look at the shop and Jimin swears he almost flinches when the man's gaze lingers a little longer on him. "That, please," the man adds carelessly, pointing at the cup of hot choco in Jimin's hands.
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Jimin looks up to Seokjin and sees him roll his eyes before turning around. Before he can walk away, Jimin calls him. "I'll get going, hyung. Can't finish my cup, sorry," he says. It feels wrong to suddenly intervene after what just occured but he really needs to go home now, it is indeed late and Jimin remembers he still hasn't watered his pot plants. He can feel the man's eyes on him and he feels naked. Jimin kinda really wants to punch him now for no reason at all besides that his presence doesn't seem to be appreciated by Seokjin at all.
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"It's alright, kid, off you go. Be careful," Seokjin smiles to him, kind. He pats Jimin's head before taking his cup. When he turns around, Jimin scurry to move too like what the worker did earlier. Jimin kind of understands him now.
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Once he's outside, Jimin cannot help but let out the shudder he's been holding. Both cold and because he can still feel the gaze of the man pinned on him.
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He brushes off everything that happened and goes on his way, careful not to slip now that the snow is melting on the sidewalk.
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Jimin makes a mental note to visit Seokjin later at his house before the party.
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Jimin stands in front of the door to Seokjin's house. It isn't big but there's a small front yard and the older parks his car there. Jimin still feels immense pride whenever he remembers that Seokjin saved up for all he has now by himself, with his own hard work and money, with no help from anyone.
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Both he and Jimin grew up alone; Jimin is orphaned, Seokjin's parents are shit and if it is evil for him to say he was glad they died early, then condemn him.
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Jimin grew up in an orphanage here in the UK; both his parents are Korean but moved to England before Jimin was born. There was never enough luck for him to be adopted, however, there was one couple who wanted to but they were too old and sick so instead, they supported his studies until he was 17. They died and it took a whole week before Jimin found out — they were away for a vacation and died in a friend's house.
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Jimin did not know heartbreak so intense it nearly shattered him before that. He may not have grown up with them but he is where he is then because of them. He was in his fifth year in secondary school and was looking forward to staying on in his sixth form but then that happened.
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Jimin stopped and a year later, he left the orphanage. He doesn't remember why or how but that is the exact day he met Seokjin. He was about to take a piss in some dark alleyway but someone shouted at him, " You disgusting bastard." But he didn't run away like one would think he did, and he doesn't remember what happened next but he does know an hour or so into a conversation with Seokjin, he found out that he was in the process of saving up for a shop but then he has all the money all of a sudden but he isn't happy at all. He still doesn't know why up until now.
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Jimin is pulled from his reverie when he hears the latch of the door slide off and soon Seokjin is opening the door wide for him, ushering him inside, saying it's so cold.
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Seokjin closed the door after him and he kneeled to remove his worn-down shoes; Seokjin makes him do it. When he straightens, the older is looking at him, nibbling on his bottom lip, "Please, do not be surprised."
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Jimin's eyebrows burrow hearing that and before he can ask, Seokjin is already walking further into the house.
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He sits on the sofa beside the fireplace, and Seokjin sits beside him, "Don't have food, don't ask for any." Jimin opens his mouth to say something but the doorbell rings. Seokjin sighs and leans his head back on the headrest, "Maybe I should just pretend I am not here. Right," he straightens and faces Jimin, a determined look on his face. "Jimin, you answer that door. When asked, say this is your house and I am your roommate and I am gone, I am already in the party. Do you get that?"
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He stares at the older hard and confused, looking around the house. "Uhm... No? I did not agree to this."
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"You have to."
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"Whatever, Seokjin. Just answer the door."
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Seokjin seems to sense that he does not have any plan of answering the door at all. He stands up and says, "You are absolutely not getting any free hot chocolate from now on."
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He huffs with that— empty words.
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Jimin stands up and goes to the kitchen after a minute. On his way there, he sees Seokjin by the door; he's talking to someone outside but Jimin can't see because the older only opened the door enough so he could stand between the opening.
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He shrugs and continues walking. Upon entering, he immediately saw fruits in the basket on the table. Jimin leans and looks at the contents and decides he wants grapes. He picks a handful of stems and washes it in the sink. He didn't bother putting it in a bowl and stood by the kitchen island, hands cupped around the grapes dripping wet.
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He sees Seokjin pass by the kitchen. Maybe whoever was by the door left. Jimin assumes it's another one of those young girls who want to woo Seokjin. He's made himself quite popular. Everyone in their street seems to view him as the most eligible bachelor of some sort.
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Jimin shrugs and continues eating in silence. It's quarter to six now, he assumes. Seokjin would start preparing anytime now.
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He pops the last grape into his mouth and chews.
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However, as he is about to walk out of the kitchen, he makes eye contact with the man who enters the room. The man as in The man. Jimin becomes rooted to where he's standing, both confused and irritated. Irritated because the man just looks at him before walking further, strolling leisurely in front of Jimin, the counter between them. He seemed surprised when he saw Jimin but not enough to give a fuck as it turns out.
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Who the fuck is this guy, Jimin thinks to himself.
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He gets what Seokjin meant now when he said do not be surprised. Jimin's even more irritated now that he realizes this man is an expected visitor. By now, he's assuming it's one of the not-the-nicest friends Seokjin told him about that he's going to attend the party with. They seem to know each other well. Jimin stares him down hard but the man doesn't really seem to care as he's looking at the rows of wine displayed on the cabinets. He looks at them with a frown, judging.
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Jimin sighs loudly to be heard before walking out, his footsteps loud and strides big. Jimin needs some storytelling. Seokjin never told him about this man and while the older doesn't owe him his whole life story, at least give him some warning that a random jackass of a friend of his will be around for quite some time. Sue Jimin for being ill-tempered, Seokjin is too so you cannot put the blame entirely on him.
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"Who the fuck is that guy, Seokjin?" he asks, frowning.
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"Yah," the older says, looking at him surprised from the mirror. Jimin's right, Seokjin's dressed now and the suit fits him just fine. He knows handsome when he sees one and Jimin never quite sees himself as one but the older definitely is, partly why he isn't a tad bit surprised by the amount of girls tailing him wherever.
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"Seriously, that guy, who is he? He acts like he owns the house and talks like everyone is below him. Who the fuck is that?" He says, not deterred by the arch of the older's brows.
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"Don't act tough with me, Jimin. Ask nicely."
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Jimin sighs before walking further into the room and sitting on the bed. " Hyung, who is that man in your kitchen judging your wines."
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There's a pause before he hears Seokjin chuckle, "One of those friend."
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"Knew it. Why are you acquainted with such people? I do not have a single friend aside from you but I know better than you do."
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Seokjin looks back at him, at the process of fixing his tie. He shakes his head, incredulous, before facing the full-body-length mirror again, "Why are you so fired up?"
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"Just 'cause."
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"Are you saying I have a poor taste in people?"
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Jimin looks at him in the mirror and shrugs before lying down in the bed with a thump. He remembers sleeping here once a week before while the older one sleeps on a mattress beside him. "You said it, not me."
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He sees Seokjin head to the bathroom connected to his room, he heads out holding a bottle of hair gel in hand. Jimin sits up and watches in fascination as the older scoops a decent amount and starts applying it to his hair. Seokjin has quite a long hair, parted in the middle. The back reaches down to his nape, almost below it, and it seems untamed all the time, black curls in front covering his eyes.
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"If I do have poor taste in people, doesn't that say a lot about you, kid? You're my best friend."
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Jimin chuckles to himself, he expects the older to say it but still laughs. "I am an exception."
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"Sure," Seokjin muses, already done.
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"Handsome as always," Jimin praises to which the older smiles and pats his head when he passes him. Jimin stands up and heads out too, descending the stairs quickly.
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They are greeted with the sight of the man looking at the pictures hung on the wall at the bottom of the stairs, anither lit cigarette between his lips. He spares Jimin a glance before looking at Seokjin, eyes lingering a little longer. He faces them and holds up a bottle of wine, "This one's decent."
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Seokjin tsks beside him before descending further, ignoring the man, "Did not ask you to pick."
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"Well, I took the responsibility to," the man says back before looking at Jimin in wonder. He raises his eyebrow and Jimin does, too. "Want me to escort you down, prince?"
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Before he can speak, Seokjin comes back from the living room and passes by them, "Leave him alone."
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The man smirks at him before gesturing his hand to the side and leaves. Jimin quickly descends the remaining steps and rushes to the living room.
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He sits down in the exact spot he was at earlier, near the fireplace. He zones out looking at the huge Christmas tree the two of them decorated at the start of this month. It's decorated with a few letters Jimin makes Seokjin when he feels like it.
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A few seconds pass by and the man enters the living room, no Seokjin in sight. He walks slowly, admiring the decorations hung around the walls. He seems like he's always judging. He has both of his hands in the pocket of his black trousers, partnered with a bright red blazer with gold buttons and white linings, hair styled the same way earlier in the shop.
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Jimin thinks the man doesn't know he's here but it's immediately proven false when he hears him speak, "Tell me your name."
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Jimin's head snaps up. He's now in front of him, the table between them. "Excuse me?"
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"Your name, kid. What is it?"
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"Don't call me kid."
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The man smiles at him before stepping a little closer, in front of the fireplace. Jimin doesn't know what the man seems to find funny all the goddamn time. "Would you rather me call you pretty?"
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Jimin's jaw drops at that, "The fuck?" He exclaims, incredulous. Jimin feels his skin get hot and he wants nothing right now but to be out of this room, anywhere away from this man. "Are you crazy, mister, seriously?"
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The man's smile widens and Jimin swears he's on the verge of giggling at him. "Won't you ask for my name?"
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Jimin chuckles, disbelieving. "I genuinely could not care less."
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The man lends out a palm to him and Jimin looks at it for a second, almost admiring the long, slender nails, and a couple of silver rings adorning it, twinkling with the continuous crackle of the woods in the fireplace. "Taehyung."
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Jimin's eyes shift to the other's. The fireplace illuminates the great half of the man's – Taehyung – face and Jimin admires the smooth slope of his nose, his eyelashes are long, long enough to cast a shadow on his cheekbones. Jimin snaps out of it and averts his gaze before standing up, the word pretty ringing in his ears. He starts walking out, on a quest to find the older. "I do not owe you my name."
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"Fair enough," he hears the man say before he's out of earshot.
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He walks further down the small corridor and bumps into Seokjin, "Hey, kid." The older steps aside and walks towards his collection of hats. "I'm leaving."
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Jimin watches him pick a black hat before putting it back, he spares a glance at Jimin and looks at the couple of watches he owns instead, "Where is he?"
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Before Jimin can answer, the man – Taehyung, his mind supplies again– appears in the doorway. "Here, darling."
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Jimin looks at Taehyung, at how easily the endearment escapes his lips, how familiar it sounds, and at the back of his mind, he questions it.
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Seokjin spares him a glance, too, clasping the silver watch he picked around his wrist. "We're leaving." Taehyung shrugs and leans on the doorway. Jimin shifts his gaze back to his hyung before Taehyung catches him looking again.
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Seokjin straightens and lifts a paper bag from a table nearby, Jimin assumes the wine is inside. "Are you staying, kid?"
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"No, I'll leave after you." Seokjin nods at him and pats his head, a habit of his.
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"Careful going home. Don't forget to put out the fireplace before leaving, alright?" Jimin answers him with a nod. "Alright. Goodbye, kid."
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"Bye, hyung."
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The older passes by him and heads to the door, Taehyung follows him, hands still in his pocket. When he passes by Jimin, he smells the man's perfume; a mixture of oakwood and mint. He smells of old money, and looks and acts like it, too, with the way he holds himself without a care for the world — Jimin wouldn't be surprised if he indeed came from it.
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Taehyung pauses by the door and looks back at him, "Hey, pretty," Jimin almost flinches at the endearment with the way it makes the skin on his arms stand but he doesn't bother answering or looking away, just staring at the man hard. "See you around." And with that, the door closes, leaving the scent of oakwood and mint lingering in the air.
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