Chapter Text
“Min Yoongi!”
Yoongi cringes at the sound of his mother’s voice over the intercom, alerting him to another exhausting family conference. His marriage had been a source of contention in his family for years, ever since his brother got married to a rich girl from a powerful family in America. Now that his brother was long gone, Yoongi had stalled at obtaining a life partner long enough that his parents had deemed him unmarriable by usual methods. They had decided to choose a spouse for him.
They had to choose from the Triad. The Triad was the name given to the three most powerful families in Seoul. The Mins, the Jungs, and the Parks. They had married within themselves for centuries, but it had always been a mutual decision to do what is best for their families. As far as anyone living could remember, no one in their families had been forced to marry each other. Until now.
His parents expect him to care about their power, their name, but he isn't the one pulling the strings in this game of tug of war. The way that all three of their parents thought of them as objects, as property to be bartered away was chilling. He had never felt this much distance from his own parents before. His feelings on the matter are quite simple: he doesn’t hate Jung Hoseok and he doesn’t love Park Jimin. It’s as simple as those two facts, but the families were tangled up in a power struggle, and the spotlight was on the youngest sons.
The most eligible bachelor within The Triad was Park Jimin. He was rich, powerful,and obedient. The perfect trophy husband. Yoongi wasn't sure if he was even gay, but he knew Jimin wouldn't argue. He had to obey his parents. They both did.
Yoongi's parents had long since accepted that he was gay and not about to change. As far as they were concerned, this opened up more powerful options. If he was straight, he would've had to marry a distant relative of the triad that was twice his age. Park was the obviously preferable option.
Jimin was beautiful, smart, rich, and apparently the perfect candidate for Yoongi’s future spouse. There was one problem. The Jungs also had their eyes on him. Jimin seemed to also be perfect for their youngest son, Jung Hoseok. He was rebellious and disobedient, an unlikely candidate to take over his family’s riches. They had hoped that an arranged marriage to a beautiful man would control him.
Yoongi chose his words correctly. Yes, the aim was to control. He had admired Hoseok for his willingness to be open about his eccentric habits, but now that they had to hide any wrongdoing from the Parks, he couldn’t help but think that he was foolish for being so reckless. Maybe he cared about this even less than him.
…
Hoseok ran. The guards hired to keep track of him were left far behind him, but he knew from experience they could catch up to his spontaneous escapes, and what he aimed to do needed to be done far from their eyes.
His parents didn’t know. They thought that Jimin was the beautiful girl he was set to marry; the Parks had hidden his true identity in order to attract more competition for their growing power. The Parks would kill him if they found out he knew Jimin's real identity. His parents would kill him if they found out he was gay, although it would be good news that he was into Jimin. No, whatever they had going on was strictly confidential.
Immediately when his future partner was announced, he was attracted to Jimin and thought that maybe this arranged marriage wouldn’t be so bad. That is, until he saw his competitor.
Min Yoongi was an exotic creature, cold and oh so soft at the same time. He deserved Jimin far more than Hoseok did, yet Hoseok also wanted him to himself. Yoongi had no interest in becoming his parents, yet he held the cool cunning of a businessman, a steel wall between him and the world. In fact, the thing that made him most alluring was his lack of interest in Hoseok or Jimin.
Hoseok would like to believe that he only lacked interest in the arranged aspect, but he also liked to fight for his prizes. He welcomed the challenge that Yoongi presented.
He managed to duck into a covered bus stop after losing the guards. They weren't paid nearly enough.
Soon the bus squealed to a stop in front of him, and he sprinted on, to the surprise of the driver. He must have looked quite strange:a man clearly in a hurry, dressed in an impeccable suit and made up perfectly. He was tall, with a cocksure attitude you could tell just by looking at him.
He rode until he was in the approximate area of his garage, then punched the stop button. Immediately as the bell rang out, he ran to the front of the bus. He thanked the driver (he wasn't a barbarian) and stepped out of the bus.
He checked the area around him to be sure it was clear, then began a brisk walk into the woods.
Soon, he came upon his destination. A run down, one car garage attached to an abandoned house. There was a rusty keypad on the side of the garage. After checking the area once again, he typed in his 4-digit code. The door rose, with a myriad of concerning noises, to reveal a sleek black electric convertible. This was his dirty little secret. Only the best for his baby, right.
He didn't want Jimin thinking he had lost his touch, did he?
He maneuvered the car through the wooded paths until he reached the city's outer limits. When he emerged, he could very nearly see his destination. The destination that promised a beauty waiting for him.
He pushed aside thoughts of marriage and competition as he drove the car through the winding city roads.
Now, he was here to see Jimin.
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Jimin was still waiting. The street corner he was watching had no signs of life, and the fluorescent light hung above his hiding place swayed and flickered in the wind.
He had managed to get out only past midnight, but there was still time for him to show up. Jimin really needed something tonight, beyond anything he could get off the streets. There was only one person who he could get that high from. Only one thing that he asked in return.
He wondered in passing if he looked like a hooker, standing in his alcove wearing one of his most promiscuous outfits. He wouldn’t mind if he did. He basically was. He had no money, no transportation, only his body. In this way, both of his little “habits” fed each other. Drugs and sex, drugs and sex. His mind had been conquered.
Through the silence of the street corner, he could hear the near silent hum of Hoseok’s convertible approaching him. Jimin’s little alcove was illuminated by his headlights, and Hoseok himself seemed to shine in the dark.
He was wearing pretty flashy clothing for a drug deal: black leather pants and jacket with shining rhinestone chains. He wore his diamonds and leather like a crown, and he looked at Jimin like he was his subject. Jimin was his subject, in a sense. He was his little slut to use as he pleases.
Shit. He was slipping already.
“Jimin,” Hoseok stated. It hadn’t been a question in a while: ever since they’d turned this into a regular habit.
“Hey.” Jimin tried not to sound too guilty. He wasn’t proud of what he was about to do, but he couldn’t quit yet. Just one more hit. Every time “just one more hit”.
“where do you want to go?”