Chapter Text
“You’re doing what?”
“I’m ghostwriting. I explained this to you five times already,” Yoongi said in exasperation from behind his computer screen.
“Okay,” Jin started slowly. “But why are you doing it? That’s the real question.” Yoongi’s roommate was busying himself in the kitchen of their tiny apartment. It was late, closing in on midnight, but Yoongi was too wired to sleep and Jin was probably just too hungry.
“Because whoever this person is, they’re going to pay me a shitload of money, that’s why. Well, that is if I can impress them with the start. I have this,” Yoongi held up a small stack of papers. “And I’m supposed to write an introduction based off it. If they like it, then I can write this…autobiography? Biography? Whatever you want to call it. And then, bam! I get paid. Getting paid is good. We need to make rent,” Yoongi explained.
Jin stuck a takeout container in the microwave and pressed start. The whir of the microwave made the silence between them a bit more bearable, but Yoongi could practically feel Jin’s disapproval. When the microwave beeped, Jin narrowed his eyes in thought.
“First of all, I’m offended that you think I can’t make my half of rent, because I know that’s what you’re implying, Min Yoongi. Second, you keep referring to this person as ‘they’. Do you not know who it is?” Jin asked. Of course he figured out as much.
“No, I don’t know yet who they are.”
Jin set his food down on the table dramatically and walked around to the other side, closer to Yoongi’s desk. “That’s weird! They could be a total creep!”
“They’re writing a book about themselves, they can’t be that creepy. It’s probably some low level celebrity or something, jeez. Calm down.” Yoongi sighed and opened a blank document on his computer so he could start brainstorming. He didn’t care what Jin thought, honestly.
“Well regardless, you’re too talented to be writing something you won’t even get credit for,” Jin shrugged, as if this was an afterthought. Yoongi’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard. Part of him agreed with Jin, but he also knew that he needed to start somewhere and that he needed money. He wanted to be a songwriter. He wanted to write things that inspired people. He didn’t want to do this, he needed to.
He also didn’t want to have to put up with whoever it was he was going to be writing about. There was no doubt in his mind that it was going to be someone incessantly annoying and they were going to have tons of impossible demands. They’d probably be the type to want to take credit for things they had no part in. Obviously, since they weren’t even writing their own memoir.
“Thanks for your concern, Jin, but I’m doing it. Just eat your takeout and let me write in peace,” Yoongi said.
Jin headed past Yoongi, through the cramped area they dared to call a living room, to the miniscule room Jin called his own. “Don’t stay up all night writing like that. You get pretty cranky when you’re tired.”
“Okay, mom,” Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about…” Jin muttered before closing his door.
~~~
Yoongi had gotten the ghostwriting opportunity from a friend. He had written some articles and things for newspapers and magazines and things of that sort here and there. A connection at one of the magazines he’d written for had been contacted by this mystery person who wanted the ghostwriter. Yoongi’s friend had recommended him.
Yoongi was starting to hate that particular friend.
He had read through the stack of paper he had been given several times. It detailed a vague enough story and basically left a lot open to imagination. Yoongi figured this would not be any kind of real introduction, but more of a test of his writing abilities. Either way, it sucked. A lot. There was no other way to put it.
He read through the papers so many times because the first time, he thought maybe it was a joke. The second time, he read it to try and get the joke. When he didn’t get the joke, he read it again. Then he realized it was completely meant to be serious, so he had to read it yet again, viewing it as a serious piece of work.
This person, whoever they were and however rich they were, was absolutely full of it, Yoongi decided. Probably, the fact that they were rich had something to do with it. In the short stack of papers he had received, he could tell the person was entitled, but liked to pretend they had a sob story to tell. They talked about growing up surrounded by money and opulence, but not really learning any real life lessons.
“Blah blah blah, we’ve all heard this story before…” Yoongi muttered to himself as his fingers hovered over his keyboard. He still hadn’t written a single word. “Poor you, you’re rich and have everything you want, but no one really gets you.”
This draft, or first impression, was supposed to be emailed to a suspiciously vague email address he’d been given by late tomorrow afternoon. Or well, late that day now. It was far past midnight. Whether or not Yoongi liked it, he needed to get this thing written.
No matter what he did though, he couldn’t think of anything sincere to say so he just sat there at his desk, staring at the blank document until his eyes burned. Finally, he breathed out and stood up, figuring maybe he just needed some water or something.
So, he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The stove clock glowed neon at him. 3:17. Nice. He might as well just stay up all night at this point. He rummaged around in the fridge for a minute, and, summoned by the sound, Jin emerged from his room.
“What are you doing? I’m trying to sleep!” Jin said loudly, for a tired person.
“I’m about to start writing,” Yoongi said.
“You haven’t started yet? Why?” Jin pushed Yoongi aside to get to the fridge.
“It’s bad. The ultimate rich kid cliché. I have some strong feelings towards it, but obviously I can’t write those,” Yoongi said with a yawn. Even he knew that he was sleep deprived and wouldn’t get anything good written down, but he was also stubborn and wanted to prove himself, and Jin, wrong.
“Maybe you should write down how you really feel about it, or write down what you’d write if you could write anything. Then after you get it out, write the actual piece. Even though I’m still very much against you writing any of it at all,” Jin said. “Just saying.”
Yoongi stared at his roommate through tired, hooded eyes. Jin’s idea wasn’t half bad. “Yeah…yeah maybe I’ll do that. Thanks,” Yoongi said and squeezed past Jin to go back to his computer.
He only had to hesitate for a moment before the click-clack of the keyboard echoed through the apartment, much to Jin’s dismay. Chances were that neither of them were going to get much more sleep that night. Jin really needed to invest in some noise cancelling headphones.
Yoongi smiled as he typed away. He was a good writer, and he considered himself to be professional. Most of the time, anyway. This was not one of those times. However, once he got everything out, he would get down to business. And there was something cathartic about ranting about everything. Like writing someone a letter telling them all the things he would never say in person but never actually sending it.
So, Yoongi typed away, despite the late hour, laughing to himself every now and again as he wrote his fake-version of the memoir. It was pretty good, if he did so say himself. Good in a satirical, funny way, in any case.
He wrote from the mysterious maybe-famous person’s point of view:
“My life is a complete and utter joke, but apparently someone finds it interesting enough because I’m writing this book. Or well, I’m having someone write it for me, but you probably guessed that. I’m much too rich to have the time to actually write it myself. In between posing with shelter animals, lounging by the pool, and updating my social media, I hardly have time to do something as mundane as write my own autobiography.
However, it must be written. Otherwise, how would I get even more money that I don’t need at all to spend on things that I don’t need even more? Like a new TV. I think I’ll get one in the upstairs bathroom this time, a nice big flat screen in super HD so I can watch my favorite drama’s while going to the bathroom or taking a shower. Or even brushing my ultra-white teeth that I paid half a million bucks on.”
Yoongi honestly wasn’t even sure why he felt so strongly about all of this. After writing several pages worth of his rant, he got up to stretch and saved the fake draft in case he wanted to write anymore of it later. It was nearing five in the morning and the sun was sure to show its face soon.
When Yoongi sat back down, he opened up a blank document and started writing the real draft. It was not nearly as fun or as entertaining as the other one, but it was well written and surely would get him picked. Part of him had started to consider not even sending it in, because he could not imagine writing an entire book’s worth of boring crap about this rich kid, but then he remembered the pay and the fact that he would like to have some of that rich kid’s money. He could suffer through the boring stuff. And anyway, hopefully when he actually met this person, they would have something interesting or meaningful for him to work with.
Hopefully.
~~~
“Yoongi.”
Someone was shaking his shoulders and poking his face persistently.
“Yoongi. Hey. Wake up!”
More shaking and poking. It was incredibly irritating. While he was aware of it happening, his body refused to react and his eyelids were like lead. Also, despite the fact that his face was pressed against some hard, uncomfortable surface, it was much more appealing than the prospect of waking up.
“You have been asleep all day. I know you can hear me, Yoongi,” Jin shook him one more time, harder.
Yoongi groaned and turned his head in the opposite direction and put one hand over his ear. “Go away,” he muttered and momentarily lifed his hand up to shoo Jin away, but he only felt air. Thankful, he let his hand drop back down to his desk. It hit the keyboard of his computer, which had fallen asleep too. The chime of it starting back up sounded in his ear. It was almost as bad as an alarm clock, but it least it was only one noise and now he could go back to sleep.
Or so he thought.
Because about three seconds later, Jin came back over to his desk. Yoongi could sense his roommate standing there and was about to finally open his eyes and tell him to go away again, when suddenly there was a loud clang right next to his head.
Yoongi just about fell out of his chair. It did the trick of waking him up though. With a jump, he was wide away and sitting straight up in his chair, wide eyed. Jin was holding two metal frying pans which he had clearly banged together. “Why?” Yoongi asked, deadpan. “Just why?”
“I apologize for having to take drastic actions,” Jin stated and set the pans down. “I told you not to stay up all night, but you never listen to me. I shouldn’t have let you sleep all day and made you just suffer the consequences.”
“It would have been you suffering the consequences,” Yoongi grumbled and glanced at the far too bright computer screen. He squinted to see the time in the corner. Why do they make the time so small in the corner, no one can read that, Yoongi thought to himself as he leaned forward. When his eyes finally focused on the numbers he nearly had a heart attack. It was almost five in the afternoon and he had barely any time left to email his draft out. He let out a long string of curses and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Shit shit shit, Jin,” Yoongi muttered as he fumbled across the keyboard.
“I won’t say I told you so,” Jin said. He hesitated for a moment as he just stood there watching Yoongi freak out. “Actually, yes I will. I told you so, Min Yoongi.”
“Not helping,” Yoongi snapped.
“I woke you up. I did my good deed for the day.”
Resisting the urge to say anything offensive to Jin, Yoongi clicked through his files trying to find what he needed. Then he opened his email and frantically typed out a brief message explaining who he was and that this was his submission. Then, with shaky hands and tired eyes, he attached the file and pressed send. Once the sent confirmation popped up on his screen, he let out a sigh of relief and pushed back from his desk.
Everything was going to be fine.
He’d sent what he needed to send now he just needed to wait. And go to bed. He’d already had enough excitement in the five minutes he’d been awake. Bed sounded like a great idea. Anything but worrying about the ghostwriting thing and whoever the mystery benefactor person was and Jin and his loud pans.
As Yoongi dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped down on the bed, he was so tired that he fell asleep almost instantly. There was nothing at all on his mind. He wasn’t thinking about the file he sent, or whether or not he even sent the right one. The two files were, unfortunately, saved in the same folder, right next to each other and someone very tired and in a hurry could have easily sent the wrong one. Yoongi could have easily sent the wrong one.
And if he did, there was nothing he could do about it now.
~~~
Not too far away, Jung Hoseok heard his phone chime, indicating he had received an email. It was late, and he didn’t think anyone else was going to submit a draft for his book. A book that he didn’t even really want written, but everyone else seemed to think it was a good idea, so he just went with it.
With a sigh, he unlocked his phone and opened the email. No doubt his managers had gotten a copy of the email too, or would. They had no sense of privacy and being a famous dancer may have its perks, but that was not one of them.
Hoseok’s eyes scanned through the first part of the email. It was from someone named Min Yoongi, and a couple of things were misspelled, like he had been in a rush to send out the email. Clearly, he’d been cutting it close, time wise. None the less, Hoseok opened the attachment and waited for it to load.
While he waited for it to load, he noticed the document was titled ‘fake draft’. That was weird.
Eventually the document came up and Hoseok leaned back on the couch to read it. It didn’t take long for him to figure out why, exactly, it had been titled as it was. More than likely, he was never meant to read what he was reading. Not that it mattered now, because he had read it. He knew he should be mad, but he found himself smiling.
He liked this Min Yoongi.