" />Chapter Text
New York is stifling in August, Jeongguk finds, and so is the bar he’s in.
He kind of loves it.
For someone who has never stepped foot in the building until an hour ago, Jeongguk feels strangely homey. It’s probably because the dark red bricks surrounding the whole establishment reminds him of the ones in Jackson’s basement where they spent too many hours hanging out in. It’s definitely more cramped than the other venues they’ve booked for the tour, and yet, somehow, that eases the nerves Jeongguk has been feeling ever since they crossed the pond two days ago.
Jeongguk has a hunch that Namjoon particularly chose this location with this kind of vibe solely for the purpose of giving a sense of familiarity to the group. Namjoon is perceptive like that, Jeongguk thinks. This is the band’s first intercontinental tour, and while everyone is buzzing from excitement, the underlying pressure and jitters is palpable among them.
The show tonight is just a dry run of some sorts. It was Jimin’s idea – the whole getting the lay of the land thing. The first day of the official tour starts tomorrow, yet the whole band is present this evening. It wasn’t a secret that they're here, but they haven’t given any indication that they are, either.
Even so, he notices that there is a crowd tonight. The whole place is hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, laughter overpowering the rock music dominating the atmosphere. The people are young, students from the university a few blocks from here for the most part. There’s a green room backstage where Jeongguk can nurse his drink more peacefully, but he prefers hanging out by the bar. That’s his thing – or was, anyway - way back when no one bothered to spare him a second glance. These days, he couldn’t even enter a pub or a restaurant without having to leave through the back door.
But that’s back in SK. There’s a whole ocean that separates him from home now.
Here in New York, it’s less patronizing and more liberating. Jeongguk feels like he could be anyone, or perhaps no one at all. The people flow like rivers, never stopping from obstacles but swirling around them. Right in this very pub, no one seems to know him. There’s something therapeutic about being able to freely scan the crowd and hold eye contact without expecting any manic reaction or getting any recognition; the brave ones that does, do it with other motives in mind. Jeongguk’s interest is piqued, so he takes note of it all.
It is wacky to think that there was ever a moment where even booking this dingy bar is a whole lot of struggle for the band. Now, booking tours is not a hellscape of pure tedium anymore. Cold-calling venues months in advance where most of the emails leave them hanging seems like light years away. They’re no longer deemed as a struggling band that most people have never heard of, taking stages to play in front of audiences of little to no people. Gone were the days when they played with wretched sound systems in front of literally nobody save for the venue’s staff. Now, they have Jackson for that.
Days went by when they meticulously kept track of all expenses - gas, food, accommodations, equipment repairs for the shitty van and everything else that entailed which usually caused a rift between Hoseok and Yoongi. For quite some time, it was a series of Hobi’s too frugal for his own good and it’s not my fault Yoongi does not know basic math even if his life depended on it! told in different scenarios, and Jeongguk and Jimin usually take the position of being the damn pacifists in order to break the brawl that usually follows.
These days, one look from Seokjin shuts them both right up.
They play in decent locations now. They don’t have to struggle with making do with newly opened bars with no reputation or built-in crowd, raucous pubs ten years removed from their heydays, or strip mall restobars full of self-righteous assholes who enticed Jimin to try to show a little bit more skin.
Now, they have Namjoon.
Jeongguk is not pretentious enough to admit that those were the best days of his pitiful life - camping out on a friend of a friend’s floor for the night because hotels or AirBnBs is almost always out of the question, because blowing a $50 on a room for a night doesn’t make any sense when the band only makes $30 the night before. Jeongguk does not miss the back pains and the crick on his neck that consequently follow in the morning after he tried (and failed) to fold his five foot ten ass in the friend of a friend’s sister’s bed in exchange of the floor for the night, but he surely does miss bickering with Hoseok on whose turn it is to pay for gas to get to the next show.
Jeongguk sees Jackson up on the stage, making a last minute check-up and making sure that every equipment is plugged and all the wire’s in place. It has become something that is absolutely mandated for the roadies to do ever since that one gig in London where they all ended up in the hospital because Jeongguk tripped over the wire hooked on his guitar, banged his head on one of the speakers and simultaneously broke his nose in the process.
It turns out they didn’t even have enough pounds to get checked in a clinic, so that left Jeongguk alternate the bag of frozen peas between his head and nose at the back of the van, all the while placating his bandmates that no, Min, I do not have concussion and that we don’t really need to go to the hospital anyway, guys.
“What a bloody show,” Jeongguk had quipped in a poor attempt of an English accent, and Jimin had to leave the van for a good thirty minutes, muttering he might have a concussion over and over again under his breath just to stop himself from smacking Jeongguk right in the head.
They were still basically a nobody the time that happened. And thank God for that. Jeongguk’s not one to embarrass easily, but if he ever makes a list, that is probably in his top five.
And that’s how it all started, come to think of it. While they all sat at the back of the van with a what now? question looming over their heads, a bottle blonde guy who introduced himself as Jackson seemed to pop out of nowhere and told them that he saw the whole thing, and then proceeded to say that if you guys continue to be that uncoordinated and just plain messy on stage, all of you will certainly get a concussion in no time. The next day, Jackson introduced them to Namjoon who’d book them. Then that led to another, then another, then two more, then three more, then they’d got a circuit and a following. Seemingly out of nowhere, Kai popped in, and then his roommate Taehyun made great friends with Jimin, and just like that, they have roadies, and they have a groupie.
They began putting out their music on standard platforms like Soundcloud; Jackson helped them stick together a few videos with illegally infringed footage from the 70's in the background that got a couple thousand hits on Youtube. Namjoon even successfully got semi-popular duo JB and Jinyoung to do a vlog in one of their gigs. It was going well for quite some time, but the thing that sealed the deal, the thing that ultimately secured their place in the industry, was a grainy video taken by Seokjin with his fucking android of Jeongguk and Jimin delivering what seemed to be the unholiest rendition of Take Me To Church while Yoongi and Hoseok drunkenly made out in the background.
Hoseok and Yoongi were adamant that Seokjin take the video down immediately, but that thought went down the drain when fucking Hozier himself posted a twitter link of the same video a day later.
Much to Jeongguk's dismay, Hozier didn't contact them after; Yoongi is a hundred percent sure the Irish God was just as drunk as them when he tweeted that. Nonetheless, it got people to talk, and well - it just sorts of snowballs from there.
Even still, it was vague to everybody when and where it started. Ask Yoongi and he’ll tell you one thing, ask Jimin and Hoseok and they'll definitely tell you another. Somehow, their origin story boiled down to two options: it was either that drunken Hozier tweet, or what has now been dubbed as the “bloody show”. In the end, the latter stuck, much to Jeongguk’s slight annoyance.
And that was that.
Now, after sold out concerts in actual theaters back home, they’re back in another one of those dingy dive bars to pay homage of some sorts. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, Jeongguk justifies. This kind of dingy dive bar where he currently sits has, in all actuality, a special place in his heart. It’s in this kind of place where the four of them got the chance to develop musically and forge a real musical identity. It's also where they built a once in a lifetime friendship, and sure, Jeongguk and Hoseok have the tendency to choke each other most of the time, and Jimin gets into a habit of fighting every other girl that pulls up her shirt and ask Yoongi to sign her rack, but Jeongguk does not want it any other way.
Because every beautiful thing that happened in Jeongguk's life, happened in a dingy bar.
“Gastropub,” Jeongguk can already hear Hoseok’s incorrect correction. “Keep up, Jeon. We’re in the United States of America.”
What a dork, honestly. And an idiot one at that. The place doesn't even serve high-quality food. Petrille's is really just that - a dingy dive bar.
Speaking of the pretentious dork, Jeongguk sees Hoseok coming from the back door looking a bit disgruntled, but that's probably because he's carrying a speaker half the size of his whole body.
“What time are we on?”
“21:30,” Hoseok answers, not even sparing him a glance.
“What time’s it?” Jeongguk asks, albeit being well-aware of the clock hanging behind the bartender's head. Nothing pumps him before the show than heckling an already heckled Hoseok.
“Time to get a fucking watch!” he hears Hoseok shouts gleefully, just as another voice from his left speaks.
“21:21.”
Nine more minutes, his subconscious says.
Jeongguk turns, and just - stops.
There is a boy sitting there, close to him, tracing the neck of the beer he’s currently nursing with what looks to be the softest finger in the world. The way Jeongguk notices such particular detail causes him to pull straight to the full of his five foot ten frame. Catching the movement, the boy looks up, and they meet each other’s frank gaze for the first time.
Jeongguk stops talking, stops moving, and for a few short seconds, stops breathing altogether.
He takes in this tall beauty, remarking to himself that they don’t make men like him in USA. There’s something foreign about him, but there's something so familiar, too. Jeongguk’s completely caught off guard by the seeming depth of sweet honey brown that stares back at him.
He's dressed up like every other university guy in the pub - a ratty band shirt, black ripped Levi's and classic Chucks. It suits him perfectly, but Jeongguk doesn't buy it.
Something is wrong - out of place. The boy looks the part, but he certifiably does not belong here.
And the thing is, Jeongguk has always found himself hardwired to flirt mercilessly with anything that has a pulse. He's not reluctant to admit that - literally everyone who knows him knows that. It's just a part of my charm, is what he usually says when called out.
Jeongguk is used to the looks tossed his way even before the band made noise. What he isn’t used to is this feeling now growing tight across his chest that expanded slowly with the smile that creeps the length of the boy's face, until it finally falls laughing in a heap of creases framing those eyes full of mirth.
It’s the smile, Jeongguk’s mind supplies. It's boxy.
Or the hair? It’s curly.
It’s the eyes, Jeongguk has decided. It's as sweet as honey.
Then the boy speaks.
“I think I know you.”
No, it’s him, Jeongguk realizes. Everything.
Everything.
Heart beating fast, Jeongguk says, “We’ve never met, but I think you do."
The boy holds his gaze for a bit longer before dropping it and nods. He seems satisfied with Jeongguk’s response because he doesn’t say anything else.
And that just won’t do for Jeongguk.
Finally eyeing the clock behind the bartender’s head which he was adamant to ignore just a few moments back, he’s mildly surprised and a whole lot disappointed when he realizes that his nine minutes is almost up.
Jeongguk's also a whole lot of surprised and just mildly disappointed when it dawns to him: it only took nine minutes and fewer words than that for him to fall in love.
“Don’t leave after the show,” Jeongguk says.
If he strains his ears just a tad bit more, he can hear Seokjin’s slightly panicked voice, yelling at the bouncers to please look for the bunny-looking man we have for a vocalist. Jeongguk knows he’s stretching it this time. After that disaster where they had to cancel a gig because he and Yoongi got too high at the back alley an hour before they were supposed to perform, Seokjin made it his mission to instil his 5-minute rule ever since. Right now, Jeongguk's way past the time limit.
He knows he’s in so much trouble - he could already hear Seokjin’s berate a few hours from now.
He also knows that he’s not going to leave his seat, not until the boy guarantees his presence after the show.
“Why?”
Under the dimmed lights, Jeongguk can still capture how his eyes sparkle with a mixture of innocence and mischief, and it's perfect, because playing “hard-to-get” only makes him more appealing. Jeongguk loves a good challenge, and although there’s really no challenge to speak of at all because they both know the boy’s going to stay after and what Jeongguk said was a mere rhetorical question (it isn’t even that, truth all laid out - it was more of a demand despite sounding like a plea) he appreciates the small act of defiance nonetheless.
It was a matter of yes or no or okay or fuck off, but the boy is asking for a reason instead, and so a reason Jeongguk shall provide.
And see, Jeongguk is a man of words, but he's also a man of action, and just as he feels the seconds trickle down, he finds it justifiably proper when Jeongguk grabs him, pulls him, and tastes him. Jeongguk licks, and when they break apart, the boy’s eyes look hazy and glazed.
“I got your gum,” the boy says slowly, and starts to chew.
“And I’m going to need it back. Stay.” Now it does sound like a demand.
Jeongguk leaves for the stage just as the lights grow dimmer and the electric undercurrent amps up.
Show time.
x
Jeongguk does not give himself the chance to cool-off and work away the post-show energy. Right after he gets off the stage, Jeongguk heads straight to the bar, and with heart pounding, pulse all jacked up, and ears still ringing, he grabs his boy.
Everything that happens after that feels like a blur. Jeongguk vaguely remembers slamming the bathroom door shut behind him and picking the boy up easily, then there’s him wrapping his legs around Jeongguk’s waist while molding their hot lips together, and the remnant taste of the cherry gum clings in the air they share as the boy licks, his tongue dipping deep into Jeongguk's mouth. It is so raw and so, so dirty and Jeongguk only realizes the gum back in his mouth upon hearing the boy mumble ‘kept it soft for you’ –
And then he kneels.
This time, it takes less than nine minutes for Jeongguk to finish.
The boy’s obscene. There’s no other way to put it.
After, Jeongguk catches him wipe his mouth as he stands with shaky legs. Jeongguk slides his thumb over the boy’s lower lip, eyes big and chest hot against Jeongguk's body, and then he’s kissing him deeply. The boy whines - his jaw must be sore - but then he moans. It sounds sweet. It is the filthiest thing he's ever heard.
Jeongguk’s absolutely fucked.
The boy pulls back, and slowly starts chewing again. He takes one look at Jeongguk’s disheveled state and pecks him one more time.
“Thanks for the gum.”
And then he’s opening the stall, and then he’s walking away.
“Wait. Will you see us play again?” The boy looks back just as Jeongguk fights back a boyish grin, not wanting to appear too desperate, but he couldn’t contain himself.
Still chewing slowly, still smiling, the boy says, “I don’t know. I just hooked up with you.”
“So?”
He pauses and leans back against the sink, contemplating a bit. “The thing about hooking up with a member of a famous band is the inevitability of having a song written about you,” he recites. Then, the playful glint in his eyes is back. “You gonna write a song about me, stud?”
What a tease.
Jeongguk can’t get enough of him.
“Okay,” he says, because he can, and he already hears the melody, anyway.
The boy hums as he dawdles by the bathroom door. “Alright. Tell me the first three things you see right now.”
And that – that’s not what Jeongguk expects of him to say. So he stares.
“Go,” the boy urges softly, so Jeongguk lets his eyes wander.
Up. “Um. Electric fan.”
Left. “Beige wall.”
Forward. “You.”
The boy nods with pursed lips, seemingly satisfied. “That’s going to be one interesting song,” he muses. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you around, Jeon Jeongguk.”
x
That same night, Jeongguk wrote a song.
Just when he finishes it that it registers to him that he doesn’t even have a name to dedicate it to.