Chapter Text
Jeon Jungkook is proud to be rich. His family's money — because of their company — is enough for him to be pretty sure about how well-succeeded his future is going to be, mainly because he intends to gain his own fortune soon, not forever relying on his parents' money. However, for now, he is quite satisfied with his condition. If he wants to buy something — anything at all —, he buys it. If he wants to meet someone famous, he meets them. If he wants to travel anywhere, someone immediately gets him in an airplane on his way to the said place.
So, yes, Jungkook is proud of how rich he is.
He isn't one to humiliate someone with his money — unless, of course, that any particular someone needs to be taught a lesson, and Jungkook is a generous teacher. His parents' employees are mistreated by basically everyone at the company, except for him. Jungkook has always been nice to them, handing out smiles and greetings. The fact that he kept on doing that for his own interets, because the media simply adored humble millionaries, changed nothing. He is being benefited for being nice to people; isn't that how life should work, anyway? Shouldn't you always get some kind of reward after doing something kind for someone else? Otherwise, why would people even be nice?
It's a Tuesday night when Jungkook shares this thoughts with Kim Namjoon, his best friend — also a rich guy, as to be expected. They are out at Namjoon's favorite bar, a place that, for Jungkook's fright, isn't at all limitated to people from the higher social classes. The richer were at the balconies, drinking wine or dry martini. The rest, like Jungkook used to call them, was spread around the place, talking loudly and cups of whisky or beer into their mouths mercilessly.
It's not that Jungkook hates the ones that belong to less favoured classes; he simply doesn't think there should be such a thing as bars and clubs that encourage the poor and the rich to interact. One time or another, things will go out of hand, that's for sure.
"You're ridiculous," Namjoon tells him, talking a swig of wine as he finishes hearing Jungkook's little speech, "We're all alike, Jungkook. Whether you believe it or not."
"Yeah? And why is that?" Jungkook challenges him. "Because you're saying so?"
"Because science said so," the elder argues, and, as to prove his point, he puts a finger on the begining of Jungkook's abs above the shirt, "Around here, there is your stomach," he moves his finger up, "Here, your heart," then, higher, on the top of his head, "And, here, your brain. At least, it's where it should be."
Jungkook growls lowly and moves the other's hand away, "Where are you trying to get?"
"Everything about your body is just the same as everything about their bodies. The differences are things we create to feel superior, nothing more."
The younger male rolls his eyes, "Yeah, but do they have this?" he asks, pointing at his pure-leather jacket, "Or this?" now, at his silver chains.
Namjoon contorts his face, seemingly disgusted, "Not yet, but, hopefully, they will, once you get distracted and someone who deserves it better takes it away from you."
"Piss of, Namjoon," Jungkook spits out, "Whatever I have, I deserve it. It's called reward for hard work."
"Or freaking luck."
"You know what?" the younger boy says, eyebrows furrowed as he stands up. "I will prove to you that I am not trying to feel superior."
"Huh? How?"
"I'm dancing with them," Jungkook answers, drumming his fingers on the counter and nodding for the bartender to approach. The man mustn't be more than two years older than Namjoon, and his expression is pretty bored for someone at a bar. The lights around make his bleached hair seem green, or maybe that is it's actual color. His eyes look like dark orbits as he stares at Jungkook, hands supported on the counter in front of him. He looks shorter than Jungkook, but more intimidating.
"Yeah?" The bartender asks, talking loudly so he can be heard even with the blustering song around him.
"A water," Jungkook requests.
"What the—" Namjoon starts.
"You for real?" The bartender questions him, an eyebrow raised, "You want a water?"
Jungkook stiffens, "You heard me."
The bartender rolls his eyes and turns around the grab the drink. Namjoon looks at Jungkook with curiosity.
"You intend to dance with these people," he points around, "Sober?"
Jungkook ignores him. He waits, but, when the bartender returns and puts a cup in front of him, the liquid in it isn't clear and light like water. It's brownish, filled with ice and pieces of lemon. Jungkook recognizes two familiar smells as he brings it near his nose: rum and coke.
"It's Cuba Libre, kid," the bartender says, "You're still going to thank me for giving you this instead of water."
"How much of it to get me drunk?"
The bartender checks him out, lifting up one eyebrow, "Two, three cups if you're lucky."
Jungkook nods, grabbing the cup and drinking the thickest swig he can take. It tastes better than he thought it would; the lemon giving him the familiar taste he enjoys. The rum also gives him the kind of spark of bravery to put the cup down and walk to the middle of the bar, where people are dancing nonstop.
The bartender leans into Namjoon's direction, looking amused, "How many times have your friend been drunk, Namjoon?"
"Three, tops."
"Will you drive him home?"
Namjoon grins, "Why? You worried now, Yoongi?"
Yoongi rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I'm worried about hormonal rich teenagers getting drunk and lost at the streets now. As in opposite to you, who don't give a crap."
Namjoon raises an eyebrow, "Go get me a scotch and we'll talk later, hyung."
Yoongi does turn around, but he lets out a laugh halfaway.
At the half of the place, Jungkook tries to get comfortable, narrowing his way between those people and swallowing dry, trying not to feel bothered by all the heat and sweat surronding him.
"Jeon Jungkook," he hears someone saying and turns around, frowing as a guy who he fails to recognize moves near him. He has bright orange hair, a smooth expression and a body that could easily be called hot, althought he seemed even shorter than the place's bartender, "Never thought I'd see you here."
Jungkook smirks, because the guy is really handsome and, well, he can tell his entire outfit must have been pretty expensive, so why let that beauty be wasted without flirting?
"Do I know you?" Jungkook asks, moving lightly closer.
"Oh, no, you don't," the guy says, "But I know you. I'm Park Jimin, by the way."
Jungkook nods, "So, where do you know me from? Magazines? Interviews?"
"No," Jimin answers, and he gives one more step on the other's direction, their bodies now incredibly close. Jimin has the audacity to lean to him, his mouth almost brushing the shell of Jungkook's ear, "My best friend hates you."
Jungkook blinks, the mood suddenly shattering, and he moves away to look properly at the other male. Jimin laughs softly, seeming now a lot more threatening than before. Jungkook takes a deep breath. What does this guy reminds him of? Fresh colored hair, perfect physical, and his breath carries no alcohol scent. Then, the small melted traces of makeup at the point of his ears due the heat. All this can only make him think one thing: Jimin must be a model. And, is he's a model, his best friend could only be—
"Oh, no," Jungkook says, giving a step behind, "Don't tell me— Your best friend— Kim Taehyung?"
Jimin opens a wide smile, "That's right, Jeon. See who's not as dumb as Tae thought he was."
Jungkook feels a lump in his throat and his stomach turning around. Just a few seconds ago, he was intending to make out with the guy who is Kim Taehyung's best friend. Jimin is handsome and he seems interesting, but, dammit, anyone who is remotely related to that Robin Hood's copy shouldn't be allowed to get near Jungkook.
Kim Taehyung is a model. He started his career at the age of fifteen and is now twenty-one. Four years ago, when his manager finally got him the opportunity to be a cover of a really famous magazine, he exploded into the fashion world. Suddenly, he was everywhere. And, unfortunately for Jungkook, he could see why. Kim Taehyung was freaking gorgeous. Tan skin, lilac hair (for now), deep eyes, ideal height, boxy smile, not at all full of muscles, but not lacking it either. He would be Jungkook's ideal type easily if it wasn't for his big mouth.
Only two years and a half ago, Taehyung got interviewed for most of famous magazines in Korea, and, in one of the interviews, he was asked about a few males and females of the industry of modelling, music and businness. He had the guts to compliment Kim Namjoon, claiming that he seemed very wise while using his money, even though he was a heir, and, then, when asked about Namjoon's best friend, his answer was quite simple:
"I see nothing special about Jeon Jungkook. He is a playboy, a heir who did nothing for his family's businness. Honestly, I think anyone would be a better heir to the Jeon family than he is."
That had been the attack that initiated a whole war. Jungkook would always express his disguise for Taehyung in interviews and questions on-line, and so would the older male. According to Jungkook's parents, as long as it didn't interfere on their popularity, it was fine. They weren't going to get in touch with Taehyung's manager to tell him to stop, either. He was famous and it was his right to fight back when someone was being bratty like their son.
When Jungkook thinks about it, he remembers that he never actually met Taehyung in person. Maybe because Taehyung was always either in photography sessions or beneficent events, giving the poor money and food, like Robin Hood himself, only without the stealing part. That was what annoyed Jungkook the most. He knew Taehyung was doing that only for the fame; there was no way he actually enjoyed all that charity.
"Relax, though, Jeon," Jimin says, bringing Jungkook back to Earth, "Taetae isn't here, and I'm not exactly interested in messing up with you, so, be my guest to not let this detail ruin your party, and, well, go to dance."
Jungkook frowns, "Don't tell me what to do."
"Didn't seem to be bothering you a few seconds ago," Jimin argues, and he is once again moving to the rhythmn of the song, almost like dancing while mocking at his best friend's enemy is completely normal, "What? Need me to teach you how to dance?"
"You're just as much as a jerk as Taehyung."
Jimin winks fakely at him, "Thanks."
Jungkook rolls his eyes and uses his elbows to open his way among people and go back to the counter. He finds Namjoon standing up, leaving a few notes of money on the counter, slipping it to the hands of the bartender. He can see the bartender leaning and telling his friend something, which he cannot hear due the loud sound filling up the place. Namjoon nods, moving away and looking around. When he finds Jungkook, he gestures for him to approach.
"You flirting with the bartender now?" Jungkook provokes.
"What, Yoongi?" Namjoon contorts his face. "Jungkook, I'm his childhood friend, get your head straight."
Jungkook rolls his eyes, "Whatever. You're leaving already?"
"Yeah, and you are, too," Namjoon says, "I drank more than enough and, well, I'm not drunk, but I'm pretty brave already and I won't drive like that."
Jungkook kind of wishes he could refute that, just by the pleasure of going against something Namjoon said, but he isn't exactly into that bar, and going home before getting drunk might actually be a good idea. The last time he got home drunk was about a week ago, and his parents have been weird since then. Thereafter, unpleasing them once again wouldn't be clever, and Jungkook likes to think of himself as quite smart.
"Fine," he tells Namjoon, "Let's go."
***
Jungkook wakes up next morning to an awful headache. It has nothing to do to his bar adventure last night, because the Cuba he drank was only enough to give him a little bit of bravery, and the loud song was something he was used to. Therefore, he accepts the conclusion that his headache has everything to do with the nightmare he had, in which Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin and all of their idiot little friends turned his image into trash in a matter of minutes. Now, at the bed, head burried on his pillow, Jungkook lets out a relief laugh and rubs his face. Like his entire reputation could be ruined that quick in real life.
He stands up and blinks a few times, getting used to the light coming from outside the windows. His room is huge, one of the biggest parts of the mansion, and looks like an assembly room. Jungkook must admit that the place had been quite expensive to decorate, but, hey, he had the money.
He hears soft knocks on the door and rolls his eyes as he stands up, walking to the entrance of the room and opening the door. He finds in front of him the maid of the house, an old woman called Choi Haneul. She was kind and always tried her best to be symphatic to Jungkook, even if, sometimes, his temper got in the way. She was small and skinny, which Jungkook couldn't aply to lack of money to eat, because they paid her very well. She bows politely as she sees him.
"Morning," he says, sounding slightly impatient and sleepy.
"Good morning, Jungkook-ssi," she says, "Your parents are requesting your presence at the living room."
He sighs, "Tell them to wait twenty minutes."
"Jungkook-ssi," she interrupts, "They said right now."
"And I'm saying twenty minutes."
He closes the door before she can come up with an answer. It's still early; there is no reason to hurry. His father won't be out to work within the next hour, and neither his mother. They can wait for him to get himself ready.
Jungkook isn't a bad son. He really isn't. It's just that, during his entire life, his parents would let him do whatever he wanted to do, which could give no effect but having him growing up to the idea of being able to do whatever he wanted all the time. They didn't show resignation to that until one year ago, the first time Jungkook returned home drunk. It was past three in the morning, and Namjoon had to be the one to carry him inside, and, well, his parents were still awake, waiting for him. After Namjoon left, Jungkook got the loudest and longest speech of his life, counting even with yells from his father. It was the last time he remembers crying in front of parents, because he was am emotional drunk and having that kind of unilateral fight for the first time was too shocking to handle. They forgot the episode a few days later, but, since then, they had demanded more than requested, and Jungkook didn't like it.
He takes twenty-three minutes to get ready and head to the mansion's living room. When he does, he frowns, because his mother and his father aren't the only ones in the place. Standing there, talking politely to them, is a guy who must be around Namjoon's age, with brown hair, shinning eyes and a large smile. He is wearing a sleeves shirt, exposing a few not-very-big muscles, and, in his hands, suspended by a rope, there's what seems to be a speaker.
"Omma," Jungkook calls, attracting the attention of the three of them to him, "Who is this?"
"Well, it was about time you decided to join us, Jungkook," she says, and her agressive tone almost makes him shrink, "This is Jung Hoseok. He is your new instructor."
Jungkook frowns. Due his parents' job, he was never allowed to go to school, so he has particular teachers and instructors. He didn't know he would have a new one, though, "Instructor of what?"
"Dance," It's the guy, Jung Hoseok, who replies, a kind smile on his face as he stretches out his hand to shake Jungkook's, "Nice to meet you, Jungkook-ssi."
"I don't see how a dance instructor is going to be useful, though," Jungkook argues, ignoring Hoseok, "I don't intend to be a dancer, like, ever."
"You refused all the other instructors for physical activities," Mr. Jeon says, "And your omma and I have agreed that you need to have this in your daily life if you're keeping your diets on."
Jungkook resists the urge to roll his eyes, his headache, that was almost gone, returning little by little. His diets aren't even a big deal. It's just healthy food; so what if he eats less than he should per week? His body, mind and healthy are just fine.
"Don't worry," Hoseok goes back to talking, "It's nothing too hard, to begin with."
"Yeah, it shouldn't be," Jungkook spits out, "I'm already a good dancer."
Hoseok doesn't take that half as harshly as Jungkook planned, because he keeps his smile on with his next phrase, "Even better to work if you're familiar with it."
"Thank you, Hoseok-ssi," Mrs. Jeon says, politely, "We are leaving now; within two hours, Jungkook's next instructor must be arriving, and then you're free to go."
"Yes, Mrs. Jeon."
"As to you," Mr. Jeon starts, looking at his son, "Behave. If we get any complains from your teachers today, we will take providences. Understood?"
Jungkook nods and fakely bows as his parents turn around and leave. His mother blows him a last kiss, always the caring one.
Once the door is closed, Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at Hoseok, "I don't need a dance instructor."
Hoseok's expression doesn't change, "Let's do it this way, then. You give me a small demonstration of what you know, and, if I, as your instructor, decide that you are a prodigy at this, we skip straight to the final classes, and you're free in two weeks."
"Otherwise?"
The elder shrugs, "Otherwise, you get stuck with me from the first class, which means we will be together for, more or less, one and a half year."
Jungkook gasps, "That much?"
"It's what I get paid for."
Well, why not try? It's not like Jungkook has something left to lose. Besides, he knows he is a good dancer, so there's nothing much to worry about.
"Fine," he says, "Follow me. We better do this at the gym."
"You have a gym at your house?"
"It's small."
"It's still a gym."
"How much are my parents paying you to teach me dance for one and a half hour per day?"
Hoseok thinks for a minute, then lets out a soft laugh, "Fair enough."
They get to the gym, and Hoseok connects his speaker to the other ones at the place, turning it on. With the help of his cell phone, he sets the first song started. It's not exactly calm, but quite adaptable. Hoseok crosses his arms and smile quietly.
"Go ahead, Jungkook-ssi," he requests, "Show me what you know."
Jungkook nods, closing his eyes for a second, thinking that maybe this will help him focus. He needs to rock it to be free of Hoseok in two weeks, because, well, he would like not to have to wake up early for one and a half year because of dancing. He opens his eyes and pictures himself in clubs and parties; that must be a good example of dance.
He starts by the simple: moving his hips. Then, his arms. He is very thankful for being flexible, because it is useful during that kind of song, in which he has no chance but to adapt. Hoseok's stare is heavy on him, like a professional dancer is about to give an amateur his grade.
The song goes on for about three minutes, and Jungkook is starting to run out of movements, which clearly doesn't run away from Hoseok's attention. The instructor nods slightly, turning off the song and gesturing for Jungkook to approach.
"You have a good control of your body, Jungkook-ssi," Hoseok says, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow as he senses the 'but' coming in his phrase, "But dancing isn't just about body rolls, you know? Dance is meant to tell people something, and the only thing yours tell me is that you go to clubs a lot, because it's the only places where people still dance like that."
Jungkook isn't able to contain the sparkle of annoyance that shows up on his face. The fact that he started to dance like that in clubs means nothing, it's still nice, and Hoseok himself said Jungkook's control over his body is good.
"If that's not a kind of dance that tells people something, which one is?"
"Did you ever watch performances of undergound dancers?" Hoseok asks.
Jungkook frowns, "Uh, no."
"Well, there goes a very good example," Hoseok rues, "Any ballet presentations, then?"
"That, yes."
"Then you know that they aren't just spinning in circles, or jumping, or curving their bodies back simply to follow the song," Hoseok starts, and he sighs as he watches Jungkook lift and eyebrow and silently question 'Do I know that?' with his eyes, "Every step means something. It's like teather without words, you see? The feelings, the histories, they are all given to the audience through the dancer's body."
Jungkook tilts his head, "Is that what you're going to teach me? Ballet?"
"No," the elder answers, "I love ballet, but I'm no good at it."
"How do you know that much, then?"
"The last student I had studied ballet for two years before having me as an instructor," Hoseok explains, "Unfortunately, he loves dancing, but the career just didn't reach him, which is why he is not a famous dancer now."
"Yeah?" The younger male asks. "Is he famous in anything else, though? Did I ever hear of him?"
"He's not famous," Hoseok says, with a pause, "Yet. However, I'm sure he is going to be. He already knows famous people, either way."
"That means nothing," Jungkook argues, "Having famous friends and all that."
Hoseok smiles at him like he's smiling at a naive child, "If you say so, Jungkook-ssi. Now, do you understand my point? If your dance doesn't mean something, I can't aprove it."
"Why does meaning matters so much?" Jungkook insists, "You heard what my parents said. It's not like I'm dancing to show off or something like that, it's just an exercise."
"They also told me I was free to teach you exactly the same way as I teach the rest of my students," Hoseok says back, "Then, I'm sorry, but you're not free of me until one of your dancing performances can make me cry."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. This is ridiculous. Dances aren't made for people to cry or laugh or feel something, doesn't matter what crap Hoseok tries to convince him about. He looks at the clock and resists the urge to growl over the fact that there's still more than one hour left. Apparently, there is no choice.
"Fine," Jungkook snorts, "Teach me.
***
And teach him Hoseok does.
When Jungkook's piano instructor arrives, Hoseok leaves with a nod of his head and a bright smile — to which Jungkook doesn't respond, not because of sass, but because he is tired. Incredibly tired. Hoseok is fast, and, for Jungkook's sadness, he is also a quick learner. The dance forced every muscle in his body to know itself better than ever, and, well, it also introduced Jungkook's ass to the ground, because, althought he isn't going to admit it to anyone, the coreography got him falling more than once.
"If you insist in saying that you are good, I'm not going easy on you," Hoseok had warned. Jungkook should have believed him.
"Crap, I'm sorry," Jungkook tells his piano instructor once Hoseok is gone, looking at himself. "I have to shower. I'll make it quick, don't worry!"
He doesn't make it quick.
It's not like anyone can blame him. After that much dancing, he looks disgusting. Sitting on a leather chair soaked by sweat could never work. He throws his sweaty clothes at the ground in the bathroom, and, as he glances between the shower and the bathtub, he knows he should just take the shower, make it fast and go have his piano class, but, hey, he has never in his life disappointed that instructor. He can let this one pass.
He enters the bathtub and his entire body relaxes with the warm water, and, just like that, he forgets about the instructor waiting for him at the mansion's living room, and he forgets about Hoseok's exhaustive practice, and he forgets about the night before and the fact that he almost made out with his enemy's best friend, and then he starts to remember nice things. They are throwing a party within one month - maybe he should invite Namjoon's friends, some pretty and nice people. Then, in one year, perhaps just a bit more, he is going to travel to America and Europe, as promised by his parents. And his problems shall all evaporate after that.
It's been thirty minutes when he finally leaves the bathroom, new clothes on, wet hair pushed back, and pushes himself downstairs, where, he notices with a frown, his instructor is no longer standing, or sitting, or anything, because he is no longer there.
"Haneul," he calls, forgetting about honorifics on purpose, and the woman takes a deep breath before walking to where he is, "Where is Dongyul-ssi?"
Park Dongyul is the name of Jungkook's piano instructor. Before being his instructor, the man taught other famous young people, like Namjoon or Jackson Wang - one of Namjoon's best friends, a chinese rapper who moved to Korea a while ago, seeing that his money was enough not to need to work that much, althought he still hosts a few shows when invited due his sense of humor.
"Dongyul-ssi left, Jungkook-ssi," Haneul says, "He said that wouldn't take such... disrespect, and left."
Jungkook widdens his eyes, "What the— But I didn't even take that long, come on!"
Haneul keeps her expression unreadable, "I'm afraid that's not what he thought."
"Aish," Jungkook mutters, "Well, fine. If I no longer have something to do, I'll go out."
"Your math class starts in two hours."
Jungkook nods, already on his way to the door, checking his cell phone in his pocket, "I'll be back until then, relax."
He does plans to be back until then. It's already enough that Dongyul left early, and is probably going to report that to his parents. He doesn't think they would do much about it, but better safe than sorry. Althought Jungkook is already an adult, he agrees that he owes them proper respect, which is why he can't remember the last time he raised his voice to anything they said. People may release journal reports saying that Jungkook respects no one, but it isn't truth. He will never stop respecting his parents.
The car he takes to go out is his, properly his, the gift he got from his parents at his nineteen years old birthday. It's the best of one generation, and he is very glad to show it off, though he must admit he isn't the biggest fan of driving for himself. Going out with a driver is always a lot more fun, mainly because he doesn't have to pay attention to every single detail around him. Unfortunately, the two drivers are out with his parents today, which only leaves him with, well, himself.
The places he want to go to aren't far, and they aren't fixed either. It's not that he goes out of his house with somewhere specific to attend to; he's just tired of his house and wants to drive around, stopping at a few parks or stores to take a look at things, and then going back to his car.
He doesn't even realize he's been driving for too long before looking at the clock, and, when it happens, two hours and twenty minutes have already passed. Jungkook curses, spinning the car's wheel and driving as fast as the speed limit allows him back home. He knows that he is going to be late, and that two instructors complaining about him at the same day won't be pretty, so, the faster he gets there, the easier it will be to explain.
It's been two hours and fifty minutes that he has left when he gets there. According to the schedule, for ten more minutes, his Math teacher is still supposed to be there. As soon as he enters the parking lot and sees two other cars parked, his entire body freezes.
His parents are home early.
Everything from the next moment goes in slow motion, because, when he gets near the door, his father sees him, and the irritation is clear in his eyes. When his mother sees him, though, the disappointment that she lets appear is even worst.
"Jeon Jungkook," Mr. Jeon says, shaking his head, "Inside, now. We're going to have a conversation."
Jungkook wrinkles his nose, "How old am I, now?"
"Don't you dare give your father a response, Jungkook," Mrs. Jeon warns him, and he immediately stops, "Go inside. We're talking at the living room."
"Just the three of us?"
"Well, of course not," Mrs. Jeon says, "There are employees doing their job in this house, Jungkook, and I'm not sending them somewhere because you're ashamed of listening what you have to listen in front of them. Now, go inside."
And so Jungkook does. He walks inside, and he doesn't spare a glance at Haneul or anyone else before sitting on the couch, posture erect and his whole body screaming that something bad is about to happen. Something unfairly bad.
His parents stand in front of them, and it almost looks like a trial.
"Jungkook, you've missed two classes today," Mrs. Jeon says, "We have a deal, don't we? You attend to all of your classes and we don't reprimand the things you do or say in the rest of your life. This isn't the first time, Jungkook, and something keeps telling me that it won't be the last."
Jungkook looks down. He doesn't understand why that's such a big deal — it's just two classes out of thousands of those —, but he isn't stupid enough to argue. His father might be the name of the company, but his mother is the core and the soul of it, and the same applies to their functions as parents. His father is the one to teach him basic stuff, and his mother, deep stuff. His father was the one to take him out to eat, and, his mother, to teach about business. His father loves him, his mother loves him more.
"I'm sorry, Jungkook, but I know what I have to do," his mother says, and Jungkook slowly raises his eyes, a small frown shapping on his face, "I'm holding over your trip until I decide that you are responsible enough for it."
Jungkook's eyes widden, "What? No, omma, please, that trip is important—"
"So are your classes and your whole life here," she interrupts him, "I've made my decision, Jungkook. Until I realize you're responsible enough to know the importance of this, I will let you go somewhere else. Otherwise, you aren't going nowhere, an adult or not, because I am not giving you the money to."
He knows the meaning behind those words. I'm the one paying your trip, and you're going to have to pay it for yourself if you want to disobey me.
He feels wrecked.
After that, he goes to his room and says there for the next hours, face burried on the pillow, body covered by blankets. That trip has been something he dreamed about for too long now, and his anxiety couldn't be discribed; then, suddenly, it was gone. He couldn't do it unless his mother thought he was responsible enough — and how the heck is he supposed to give her that new impression? Attending to classes won't last. He needs something more, something he has no idea of what is.
It's about ten o'clock when Jungkook finally gets up, mind screwed, and decides he will give his mother a reason to punish him — a better one than she is using. If she says he is irresponsible, that's what he is going to be, he thinks while grabbing the first coat he finds in his closet and climbing down the stairs. His parent's office lights are on, which means they are probably working, and they won't notice a single thing while working.
He grabs his cell phone and sends Namjoon a text.
To Namjoon-hyung:
i'm going to that bar of yours right now
meet me there
don't ask why here i'm not answering
Right after pressing send, he types the security password on the board beside the door and opens it without any noises, trying his best not to be noticed getting out. The cameras are all capturing him, but the office has no access to it, so, as soon as they notice, he will be long gone already.
On his way, he gets a text from Namjoon, a simple "okay", and keeps on driving. The bar isn't far either, so, before completing thirty minutes since he left, he is at the place.
The bar is crowded, Jungkook notices with his eyebrows furrowed. It's even more full of people than the last time, and the place isn't even that large to fit that much bodies together. Everyone seems to be bathed with a stronger light than one day before, and, as he looks up, he finds out that it's because there are new lamps and lighting stuff. Even the sound seems louder. As he opens his way through the crowd, elbows put to work, he smells alcohol, a lot more than he would ever come close to scent at a high society party. He tries not to frown too much due that as he finishes his way towards the counter and sits down on one of the only free seats.
"So, you're back, kid," He hears the bartender, Yoongi, saying as he walks to him. With the new lamps and better lighting, Jungkook notices that Yoongi's hair is, in fact, green. "Alone today?"
"Namjoon is on his way," Jungkook says, trying to speak louder than the song, "Can you get me a water while I wait? A real water, this time."
Yoongi laughs smoothly, and it sounds lightly threatening, "On it."
It takes him about one minute to return with the cup of water, put it in front of Jungkook on the counter and squint, staring at the younger like he is trying to find something. Yoongi's eyes are dark enough to seem like they're about to suck your soul at any moment, and Jungkook could definitely find him attractive if he wasn't that intimidated.
"Do you need something?" Jungkook finally asks.
Yoongi's lips curve into a smirk, "Namjoon is so going to kill me for this, but, listen," he starts, "We're out of people to work this Friday, and an extra hand would definitely help. How about that?"
Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh as he takes a swig of his water, "I'll pass, thanks."
"Well, can't say I'm surprised," Yoongi says "It's not like you actually look like someone who would have the guts to stay here, huh?'
Jungkook's eyebrows arche, "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," the elder points out, leaning to support one of his elbows on the counter, "It takes boldness to stand behind this counter, kid, and you don't have enough to."
Now, Jungkook has never been one to back down from a challenge. Somehow, he knows Yoongi is trying to manipulate him by provoking that side of his; well, it's working.
"Okay, fine," Jungkook says, "At what time am I supposed to be here?"
"Seven, seven-thirty," Yoongi answers, shrugging slightly, "Your shift will be ending at midnight, then you're free."
"What shift?"
Namjoon appears out of nowhere, basically, and stands by Jungkook's side, eyebrows raised and eyes going from Yoongi to Jungkook. Before Jungkook can answer him, Yoongi does, "Jungkook here is going to have a unique experience in life on Friday, by being the new bartender during five hours."
"Piss off, Yoongi," Namjoon says, and Yoongi stands unnafected. Namjoon turns back to Jungkook, "You're not actually doing it. Right?"
"Well, people do seem to be having quite the taste on telling me what to do today," Jungkook spits out, and his friend rolls his eyes, "You know what? Now that I don't you don't want me do to it, I'm even more sure."
"Seriously, Jungkook?" Namjoon asks. "Aren't you supposed to be an adult by now? Your rebel phase should be already over."
"Haven't you heard?" the younger male asks, standing up. "I'm always going to be an irresponsible teenager."
"You're not acting like an irresponsible teenager, you're acting like a spoiled child."
Jungkook grins, "Well, isn't that just what I wanted to hear?"
He moves away after that, cup of water forgotten on the counter, and walks to the middle of the place once again, cheering not to find Park Jimin there again. One meeting with Kim Taehyung's best friend was enough, he doesn't need anything further than that, thank you very much. Besides, as a model, that guy must have more things to do at night than simply go to bars, dance and bother people who he has nothing to do with.
This time, Jungkook finds it easier to dance and get used to the beat, mainly because his standards have fallen a lot in the last few hours. There are attractice people around him, and it isn't exactly hard to dance and show off in front of attractive people. At least, that is something Jungkook has to admit.
At some point, Hoseok's words come to his head. Dancing isn't just about body rolls. Well, bullshit. Just because it wasn't artistic, didn't mean it wasn't dancing.
He is almost having too much fun when suddenly the song gets sultry due the growing amount of conversation, and Jungkook frowns, stops dancing and tries to understand everyone's sudden change. Then, he notices that they are staring at the entrance of the place, and, passing through the open doors, he sees a face he would most definitely never forget.
"Oh, crap," he mutters to himself, incredulous. Out of all the people who could have arrived at the same hour as him, why did it have to be the unbearable, stubborn, childish, stupid — and all the other insults he could think of — Kim Taehyung?
Taehyung looks almost the same as the last time Jungkook saw him in the TV. His eyes still contain the exact same glow of archness, his body still looks perfect, and his hair— oh, his hair is now blonde. Probably changed due a new photoshoot, magazine's cover or something like that.
And, well, what a surprise, he looks better in person.
It doesn't take long before people get used to Taehyung's presence, some of them greeting him informally, and Taehyung nearly seems friendly while talking to them. He hasn't noticed Jungkook there yet, and, hopefully, he won't. Just to make sure, Jungkook uses his elbows to narrow his way between the crowd and move back to the bar's counter, expecting to find Namjoon drinking or talking to Yoongi. All that he finds, though, is a lot of unknown people getting drunk, and no sight of his best friend anywhere near.
"Yoongi-ssi," he calls, supporting his hands on the counter. Yoongi is now serving a woman whose cheeks are already red from all the drinking, and who must be way too old to get that drunk. As soon as he finishes, he doesn't even bother to look back at her before raising an eyebrow in Jungkook's direction, "Will you come here, please?"
"I've got a whole counter of drunk people waiting for me, kid," Yoongi complains, but he walks to him anyway, "What do you want?"
"Did you see Namjoon?"
Yoongi's eyebrows furrow, "He went home, Jungkook."
"What?" Jungkook asks, his eyes widdening, "You have got to be kidding me."
"Aren't you rich or something?" Yoongi asks back. "Just call your driver and tell him to pick you up."
Jungkook squints, "It's not that simple."
The elder rolls his eyes, and Jungkook can tell that he is slightly annoyed already — but, right now, with his nemesis just a few meters away, and his best friend on his way home without Jungkook, he can't bring himself to care.
"So, are you going to order something or leave me alone?" Yoongi asks.
Taking a deep breath, Jungkook shakes his head, "Not ordering anything."
Yoongi doesn't even spare a last glance to him before turning around and starting to walk back to another client; but, then, another voice coming from behing Jungkook yells for the bartender's name, and every fibre of Jungkook's body freezes. He wonders whether it would be too embarassing to simply go out running now, because he definitely isn't in the mood for that guy.
"Yoongi-hyung," Taehyung calls again, and he practially throws himself at the space behind the counter that is right by Jungkook's side, accidentally brushing Jungkook's ribs with his elbow, "Yah, I'm sorry— Jeon Jungkook?"
Jungkook stiffens, "Kim Taehyung."
Taehyung's deep and annoying eyes run through Jungkook's face, and anyone could tell how incredibly amazed and amused he is, "Now, is Jungkook finally getting a taste of what it is like to be in places like this? What happened, Jeon? Bankrupted or something?"
"You wish, didn't you, Kim?" Jungkook hisses. "Your career will be over a lot sooner than my family's company."
"That's probably true," Taehyung shrugs, a glimpse of arrogance flashing on his face, "But, at least, it will always be my face on that magazine's covers, and not my father's."
Now, there it is. The Kim Taehyung that most people don't believe the exist, the Kim Taehyung who Jungkook learned to despise, the Kim Taehyung that always get under Jungkook's skin and inside of his nerves. Seeing and talking to him in person is even more irritating, and Jungkook feels like he could just punch him right there.
"Are you just going to stand there and act like two children," Yoongi starts, taking Jungkook off of his anger for a moment, "Or are you going to order something, Taehyung? Oh, by the way, come closer, there's something I have to give to you."
Taehyung seems to squit a bit, like he's afraid, and then he leans softly in the counter's direction. Yoongi takes one more step, raises his arm and hits Taehyung's nape with a slap that seems more noisy than hurtful.
"Ouch!" Taehyung screams, either way, moving away immediately. "What was that for, hyung?"
"How many times do I have to tell you not to buy things for the bar?" Yoongi snarls, pointing at the new lamps that Jungkook saw hanging on the roof early, "We can't pay it back, Taehyung, not even with free drinks."
"I've said I don't want you to pay it back, though," Taehyung argues, rubbing his nape, "Just accept the gift."
"Yeah, sure," Yoongi scoffs. He turns around to grab a bottle of wine and fills up a cup in front of Taehyung, leaving the bottle by it's side, "You drink this entire bottle or take it home, I don't care, just know it's yours. And stop buying things, or I might as well actually stop giving you free drinks in return."
Unlike what Jungkook thought, Taehyung doesn't back down against that. All he does is grab the cup in front of him with only two fingers and give Yoongi a friendly smile, "As you wish, hyung."
Yoongi rolls his eyes, muttering something about "actually going back to work now" before he turns around and goes to other clients. The song is still loud, but there is an uncomfortable silence between Jungkook and Taehyung that is starting to drive the younger male insane. It's a lot easier to fight when they're not in the same place, neither breathing the same air.
"You know, Jeon, I'm actually curious right now," Taehyung starts, "What are you doing here? I've seen that friend of yours, Namjoon, here before, but you? Never thought it would happen."
"Why?" Jungkook asks, eyebrows arching, "Want me to leave?"
"Though I understand you would do that for me, as the big-hearted guy you are," the elder starts, "I'm just curious now. You can leave after answering."
Jungkook lets out an arrogant laugh, "You really are a jerk, aren't you?"
"Isn't that the whole point of our relationship?"
The younger male actually laughs this time, one of his eyebrows going so high that he thinks his might might even look weird, "Our what now?"
"Relationship, Jeon," Taehyung says, voice dripping disdain, "It means the state of being somehow related or interrelated to someone; as, in opposite of the only definition your closed-mind knows, which happens to be a loving relationship between two people."
Jungkook stares at him through his eyelashes, "Would you like your nerd degree to match your asshole one now or later?"
Taehyung takes a step into his direction, and Jungkook finds out that there is no one of him backing down, because, right behind him, there is a huge guy seated in front of the counter, drinking what looks like rum, and Jungkook isn't fond of pissing off huge people by bumping into them. Thereafter, it leaves Taehyung a lot closer than he should be. Jungkook would probably be already able to smell the alcohol in his breath if Taehyung had already started drinking.
"I don't like you, Jeon," Taehyung says.
"Really?" Jungkook strikes back, "Well, I wouldn't know, with you telling every single television network."
"Well, you did strike back by talking about me in every single magazine that ever inverviewed you — which is pretty rare, because they are usually interested in relevant people, like your parents."
Jungkook nods, "Is that all you have up against me? My parents?"
"No, I'm just lazy to think about someone now," Taehyung answers, shrugging, "Come back next week and I might have a better insult against you."
"Asking me to come back already, Kim?" the younger male provokes, the corners of his lips quirking up, "I didn't even have to do much to conquer you, you're easier than the magazines say."
Taehyung laughs, a humourless sound that, if coming from anyone else, would have made Jungkook move away immediately. The blonde-haired male raises one of his arms and, absent to Jungkook's squinted eyes, fixes the folded up sleeves of Jungkook's coat, "I'm a lot more than any magazine says, Jeon. Mainly the ones with your name in it. I just hope you know that."
Jungkook clicks his tongue, irritated, and moves away from the counter, "You know what, Kim? You're just a model, you're no superhero or something, so why don't you stop pretending?"
Taehyung shrugs, "Don't want to. I won't be manipulated by stereotypes like you, Jeon. Though, if, one day, you decide you want to become a real person, I can get you my number."
"Trust me," Jungkook hisses, "I won't ask for your number, ever."
Taehyung grins, and it's an annoying grin, "That's what they all say."
Jungkook wants to punch him on the face, again, but he decides to leave it for another day. He's not drunk, much less wasted, so his brain is still in control, and it tells him that fighting a famous model in the middle of a club won't be a smart idea. Therefore, he options for rolling his eyes and walking away, not bothering to look back for a single second.
When he leaves the place, there's rage in his blood and a goal in his mind. The next time, he will not be messed with.