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Yoongi does a lot of waiting during those first few months with Hoseok. He mostly waits for the other man to get tired of him and his insecurities. He waits for Hoseok to finally decide he’s had enough of Yoongi’s shit.
Strangely, the moment never seems to come.
Not when Yoongi’s words have more bite than usual, when he’s tired and worn and everything feels like too much. Not when they’re smoking in bed after a good fuck, naked and breathless and passing a blunt back and forth. Hoseok’s eyes always get so hazy and he likes to talk about the future when the high is just right. He likes to talk about success and money and maybe even getting a dog, and every time Yoongi watches his face and he wonders if this is the moment that Hoseok will realize that Yoongi has no place in those plans but somehow-
Somehow Yoongi is always a part of them.
“We can go to the pound, get a little mutt. I like the name Mickey-”
“Hoseok.”
There is smoke in Yoongi’s mouth, heady and strong, slipping out between his lips in little tendrils. His lungs ache. He passes the blunt back and smooths his hand over Hoseok’s chest, rising and falling with a deep inhale.
He’s tired, work has really been wearing on him, and there’s absolutely no reason why Hoseok should look so pretty in the glow of the purple lights. His hair is a mess on his head, his face still flushed red and he’s smiling as he talks about a little dog.
“What is it? You don’t like the name?” He kisses Yoongi's cheek and his lips are sticky. “Come cuddle with me, hyung.”
Hoseok always winds around him with his arms and legs, like he’s scared Yoongi is going to slip away from him. The blunt burns away in the ashtray and Hoseok doesn’t even notice. He might have a month ago but business has been good lately and he doesn’t worry about those things anymore.
“We can pick a new name,” Hoseok whispers, nosing along Yoongi’s cheek.
Yoongi can’t find the words to say it- mostly because he’s selfish and Hoseok is the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him and he’s not quite ready to let it go.
Let Hoseok find out on his own just how much of a mistake Yoongi is; let the heartbreak come on its own, unprompted.
“I like the name Mickey,” he mumbles, satisfied and feeling like he’s floating above the entire sleeping world. Hoseok pulls him closer. “I like it a lot.”
--
Hoseok starts talking about selling more than just weed about five months into their relationship. He waits until things are set in motion with some people he knows before he speaks a word of it to Yoongi one night while at the restaurant where Seokjin does the dinner rush.
“The entire point of it,” Hoseok says late into the evening, balling up a napkin in his hand, “is to be discreet. Shake, pass, move on.”
Under the restaurant table, Yoongi fumbles the handshake again and the napkin falls to the floor.
“It’s hard ,” he whines. “How am I supposed to pull off a casual handshake while at the same time passing someone drugs-”
Hoseok reaches across the table and clamps his hands over Yoongi’s mouth mid-sentence. “Why don’t you announce it to the whole block?” he hisses, looking around but it’s a Friday nearing closing and everyone is too busy to pay them much attention. “It works and it’s easy, you just have clumsy hands. Now, do you want to learn or not?”
Yoongi grumbles something under his breath but ultimately nods and they spend most of their dinner like that, exchanging a napkin back and forth under the table until Yoongi’s clumsy hands get it right enough to leave Hoseok satisfied.
Fridays are their date nights, a weekly tradition that became one without either of them really talking about it. Date nights usually consist of dinner, a movie back at Hoseok’s place and most times a good, slow fuck with a blunt after. These nights have quickly become Hoseok’s favorite part of the week.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Hoseok says after dinner, walking hand in hand with their bellies full. The night is balmy, the crickets playing a loud concerto. Hoseok can feel his hair sticking to the sweat on the back of his neck.
Yoongi’s cheeks have been red ever since they left the restaurant and Hoseok is pretty sure it has more to do with the deep kiss he had planted on his lips as soon as they’d stepped outside than with the heat.
“What is it?”
Hoseok squeezes Yoongi’s hand. He’d been thinking this over for quite a while and though he’s been practicing what he wants to say, the words feel jumbled in his head now that the moment has come.
“Remember Hajun?”
Yoongi makes a face immediately at the mention of the name. They’d met the man two weeks before at the party of a friend of a friend of a friend that Hoseok had been invited to for the sole fact that he had provided all the weed- it had been a pretty big sale and he’d taken Yoongi out for a nice dinner in the city the next day.
“I don’t like him.”
“I know,” Hoseok says, and squeezes Yoongi’s hand again. “It’s so weird because you’ve barely said more than five words to each other.”
“Something about him, he smells like a rat.”
Hoseok laughs but it’s a strained laugh. He’s sweating a lot more all of a sudden. A single drop rolls down his temple. “He’s not that bad, I promise. He… offered me a deal.”
Yoongi stops walking for a second, nearly trips over his feet. “You’ve been talking to him.”
Hoseok can hear it in his voice. Yoongi doesn’t like any of this and he’s barely gotten to what he really wants to say. Maybe he should stop talking now but he knows there’s no way Yoongi is going to let it go.
“About what?”
“Like I said,” says Hoseok, “a deal. He’s looking for someone to push product here and I-”
Yoongi tugs him harshly off the sidewalk and his back hits a tree roughly, all the air knocked out of him. He doesn’t know why he always forgets how strong Yoongi really is but the reminders make his head dizzy.
“Product,” Yoongi hisses. The street is empty and they’re cast in shadows but still he whispers. “So something other than weed.”
“Coke,” Hoseok says, his voice even lower.
Yoongi’s eyes flash. “Are you stupid?”
“The money is good. So fucking good hyung. Maybe- maybe we could move out of this shithole, somewhere much better.”
And that- that makes Yoongi’s face soften. Because they both hate their town, hate how small and suffocating it is. Yoongi talks about how much he hates it over breakfast, before the day has just begun but Hoseok waits until dinner, when everything seems a lot more bleak and he can’t pretend things are any better than they are.
“But coke, Hoseok.”
He’s biting his lip, so unsure. Hoseok wishes he hadn’t said anything but hiding it from Yoongi any longer than he has to just doesn’t seem right.
Hoseok takes Yoongi’s hand, dragging him closer. The bark of the tree is rough against his back, Yoongi’s edges sharp under his hands. He won’t be letting this go, not for a while, but it’s a battle Hoseok is willing to fight. Because the end results are worth it.
“Hyung,” Hoseok says. A car passes by, its headlights a momentary distraction. “Hyung, I promise I’ll be careful. The money-”
“Fuck but did it have to be with Hajun?”
Hoseok brushes some hair away from Yoongi’s eyes. “Let’s talk about it at home.”
They walk hand in hand out of the shadow of the trees but back home, neither of them mentions it again. Hoseok drifts to the kitchen, still hungry, while Yoongi runs a bath to wash the sticky night air from his skin. They meet again an hour later in the bedroom- well, more like their bedroom, given that Yoongi has a drawer all his own and he spends more time there than at his own place. His toothbrush is in the bathroom, a pair of his socks under the bed somewhere.
Hoseok is feeling soft that night. He takes his time slipping Yoongi’s shirt over his head, slowly admiring the newly exposed skin with his hands. Yoongi still blushes at the beginning, red from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest.
He kisses Yoongi’s cheek softly. “Hyung…”
Despite his deep blush, Yoongi meets Hoseok’s eyes steadily. “I want to try something tonight.”
“What is it?”
Yoongi pushes him away lightly, towards the futon couch. “Sit, roll a blunt, and watch me.”
Hoseok’s heart leaps immediately into his throat at those words, not really sure what Yoongi has planned but still so full of anticipation he could burst.
The rolling tray rests unsteadily on his lap, his hands shaking slightly as he takes the last of his Backwoods from the pack and begins to unroll it. Tobacco falls on the futon and on the floor around his feet.
“Why do you look so nervous?”
The grin on Yoongi’s face might have been infuriating had it not made Hoseok flood with heat. From where he’s sitting, he can see Yoongi perfectly, cast in the purple glow of his string lights and looking almost ethereal.
He looks so damn good it’s not fair.
Yoongi tucks a thumb into the waistband of his sweats and slowly- slowly- slides them down his thighs. Hoseok’s hand hits the corner of the tray and he almost sends his weed flying across the room.
Yoongi isn’t wearing any underwear.
“Keep rolling,” Yoongi says, like he isn’t teasing Hoseok in the most obscene way possible. “I really want to smoke with you, Seok.”
But even though he tries, he can’t quite keep his hands as steady as he’d like. Yoongi can see it and that smirk stays on his face, even as he grabs his cock and starts to stroke himself slowly.
It doesn’t usually take Hoseok this long to roll a blunt. The weed keeps spilling out of the wrap, mostly because he’s not really looking at what he’s doing, eyes transfixed on Yoongi only a few feet away yet unreachable. All that skin on display but he can’t touch any of it. He aches with the need.
“Thank you for dinner,” Yoongi says, his voice a little breathier than before. The slick sound of his hand on his cock fills the room, making Hoseok’s throat feel dry. “I had a fun time tonight. I- I was thinking of you in the bathroom.”
The words are followed by an obscene moan. The tray wobbles again and threatens to spill everything before Hoseok steadies it. His mouth feels even dryer than before and they haven’t even started smoking yet.
“Yoongi…”
“You want to touch me, Seok?” Yoongi laughs, “of course you do, what am I saying?”
It’s not the best blunt Hoseok has ever rolled but it’ll do. He holds it up triumphantly, like a prize and Yoongi sidles over, sliding into his lap with all the grace in the world. Hoseok places the blunt between Yoongi’s lips and blindly reaches for the lighter. The flame is a bright ember in the mostly dark room, Yoongi’s face illuminated by oranges and golds. He closes his eyes at the first inhale, his chest rising as he fills his lungs with the smoke.
Hoseok presses the tips of his finger to Yoongi’s sternum, practically feeling the high bloom from his chest to spread to the rest of his body.
Yoongi drops the blunt on the haphazardly placed rolling tray beside them. He takes Hoseok’s face gently between his hands and kisses him, smoke flooding Hoseok’s mouth, spilling into his lungs and then out of his nose as he exhales into that kiss.
Hoseok’s head is buzzing. He reaches for the blunt and they kiss again like that, tendrils of smoke between them. He isn’t sure how he’ll ever get used to the softness of Yoongi’s body, or how pliant he gets when he’s like this.
“So pretty,” Hoseok mumbles, mouthing along Yoongi’s neck. He smells like the flowery soap he uses, the tips of his hair still wet.
They finish the blunt just like that, Yoongi slowly grinding against Hoseok’s lap as they smoke and kiss, smoke mingling with spit.
“You can take me to bed now,” Yoongi says and Hoseok doesn’t hesitate, steadying hands on Yoongi’s thighs as he stands with him still in his grip and carries him all the way to the bed. Yoongi bounces twice when Hoseok drops him and he scrambles up to rest against the pillows, dark hair spread around his head like a halo.
It takes a moment to get Hoseok completely undressed with their fumbling hands, his clothes landing all across the room with abandon. Yoongi is clingy that night, holding Hoseok close between his legs as they fuck slowly, rocking together on the bed they made their own.
Soon, Hoseok is going to start selling coke and neither of them talk about it.
--
He can’t quite understand why the sight of Hajun alone leaves a bad taste in his mouth but Yoongi tries to keep his distance and his thoughts to himself. Hoseok wants this, Yoongi can tell by the shine in his eyes, the way he listens to Hajun intently in the car on the way over to that party that Yoongi really has no interest in going to.
“We’re not going to have fun,” Hajun says from the driver’s seat, very pointendly looking at Yoongi in the rearview mirror. Their eyes meet, making Yoongi’s skin crawl. “This is business only.”
“Of course,” Hoseok says easily, much more comfortable in the car than Yoongi has felt the entire night.
He shouldn’t have tagged along, he knew this from the beginning but Hoseok had asked and he has so much trouble saying no to that boy it’s unbelievable. So here he is stuck in the backseat of a shitty, dirty car, trash strewn at his feet and the smell of stale weed baked into the tattered seats.
There's not a single thing about this entire situation that Yoongi likes. He doesn’t like that they’re going to a party where neither he nor Hoseok know anybody. He doesn’t like that it’s far away and the only ride back they have is with Hajun, unless they want to spend a fortune and wait at least an hour for the taxi service to reach them out there. But Hoseok seems unworried, relaxed. He laughs casually with Hajun, turns up the radio and sings along. The smile he shoots Yoongi over his shoulder is nearly radiant.
The bass can be felt before they even see the house, making the car’s windows vibrate with it. Dread settles heavy in Yoongi’s chest. He wants to tell Hoseok to leave, that none of this is worth it just to escape their little town but then Hajun is pulling up behind a red truck and he knows Hoseok wouldn’t listen to him now, anyway.
It’s not like Yoongi to be so anxious. Hoseok has been dealing since long before they’d ever met and it’s never been an issue but now everything is different and Yoongi would do anything to make his boyfriend see why he shouldn’t trust a man like Hajun- even if those reasons seem just as obscure to Yoongi.
There’s just something about the man. Yoongi hangs back and watches from a safe distance. Hoseok is good at working a crowd, that charming smile of his doing almost all the work. Hajun watches with his face unchanging. It’s not so much that he’s frowning, or actively trying to look unfriendly but it’s like his face is permanently set on a disapproving scowl.
Yoongi can’t quite place where he’s seen him before. His name had sounded familiar when Hoseok had first introduced them but only in a vague way. He has no memory of ever talking to the man but he looks at Hajun and his brain wants to remember him from somewhere.
He can’t take his eyes away from Hoseok, talking to Hajun like they’re old friends. He can see the money and drugs exchanging hands under the table, away from prying eyes except for his, always searching out Hoseok, keeping him in his sights at all times like that will somehow keep him safe.
Yoongi scoffs at his paranoia. It’s a small party, probably no more than thirty people, and it’s not like Hoseok is actually holding any of the product on his person. That’s all Hajun and Hoseok is only there to push and convince dumb college kids to maybe try something a little harder than weed that day. Yoongi doesn’t like it but he also knows there’s nothing he can do about it. Once Hoseok sets his mind to something there’s not talking him out of it- Yoongi himself is certainly proof of that.
The loud music and crush of bodies pushes him to the kitchen where it’s much quieter. He remembers parties like this being much more fun and though he knew Hoseok would be working, kind of expected the same from this one.
He needs a drink. Badly.
The kitchen is a mess, the counters and floors sticky with god knows what, red plastic cups strewn about every surface. It seems the only options are beer or hard liquor so he fills a cup with about three fingers of whiskey and knocks it back on one go, nearly spitting it back up when he feels a hand on his back.
He turns, half expecting Hoseok but the small smile on his face drops immediately when he finds the last person he ever expected instead.
“Hello, pretty thing,” Minjun says.
Yoongi flinches away from him, unable to tear his eyes from that venomous smile. He hasn’t seen or thought about Minjun since that night after his first date with Hoseok but now it feels like everything is coming back to bite him in the ass. It can’t be a coincidence, it can’t .
“Fuck off,” Yoongi says, no longer wanting that drink but rather needing to get out of there as quickly possible.
“Woah, where are you going in such a rush?” Minjun asks, stopping Yoongi in his tracks with an unforgiving grip on the back of his neck. His breath is foul, his eyes bloodshot, and it’s obvious he’s been drinking and smoking all night. “It’s been a while, Yoongi-yah, don’t you want to catch up?”
“Not particularly.”
He’s trying to keep calm but the panic is setting in, clogging his throat and making his heart thud like a hammer in his head. They’re the only people in the kitchen and even if he tried, Hoseok wouldn’t be able to hear him over all that music.
“I’m not going to do anything to you, so you can fucking relax.”
“Let go of me, Minjun.”
“You used to call me hyung,” Minjun frowns.
Yoongi just stares back at him. He stares and stares because he isn’t sure what the hell he’s supposed to say, his mind an endless blank. He wants to be anywhere but here- mostly he just wants to be back at Hoseok’s place, curled up in the bed that smells like them. Safe and away from whatever mess this is that he’s inadvertently gotten himself into.
Minjun lets him go but Yoongi can still feel his hand like acid on his skin. He looks at this man and it’s like he’s a stranger, someone he might have seen once maybe in a nightmare. It’s not like Yoongi had ever liked him in the first place but it’s strange that someone can see so much of you and still mean nothing in the end.
“He’s going to leave you too, you know.”
Minjun’s words are sickly sweet, that glint in his eyes strangely familiar; it makes Yoongi’s skin crawl.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the day Jung gets tired of you and he moves on to the next pretty novelty that crosses his path.”
“He wouldn’t-”
“No? Isn’t that the exact same thing he did with you?”
Yoongi freezes. He doesn’t mean to but he does and Minjun notices this. He grins. It’s not fair because the larger part of Yoongi’s brain is telling him it’s not true. It’s been five months now and it’s nothing short of perfect. It’s like Hoseok just knows how to soothe his insecurities and anxieties; knows when to touch him and when to just let him be. Yoongi can’t remember a time he was ever so close to another person, so trusting and open that he has to stop sometimes just to wonder what the hell he thinks he’s doing.
Hoseok has never betrayed the trust Yoongi has in him nor has he ever made Yoongi second guess his feelings for him. But now there’s a thought squirming in his head and he starts to wonder if maybe the foundations of this unbelievable thing he has are as steady as he thinks they are, even if Hoseok has never done anything to make him think otherwise.
“No.”
“Are you sure about that?”
It’s just Minjun trying to get under his skin, his mind tries to rationalize. He knows he’s right but that thought squirms and eats away at his logic until all he can feel is anxiety and doubt; a lethal combination.
“I’m sure,” Yoongi says, trying to keep his voice steady and his eyes fixed on Minjun’s. He can’t show any doubt on his face, even though he feels like he’s drowning in it.
Minjun’s grin slowly spreads around his face and he doesn’t stop Yoongi when he pushes past him, back out into the party. Panic rises and grips him by the throat, the mass of bodies all become a blur, all the faces exactly the same as the last. The music gets in his head, chipping away at his skull with an icepick beat.
He collides with something hard, nearly knocking him on his ass were it not for a strong grip on his elbow.
“Hyung?”
Even over the music, Hoseok’s voice is clear, the beacon he’d been looking for. It grounds him despite the migraine bubbling behind his eyes.
“Seok. Seok-” he reaches for Hoseok’s face, his palm a perfect fit over his cheek.
Hoseok frowns down at him and with a gentle hand that has Yoongi’s head tilting back wipes the hair away from Yoongi’s sweat-sticky forehead. Without having to say anything further, Hoseok drags him outside into the cool night air. Yoongi stumbles and dumps the meager contents of his stomach in a bush a few feet away.
“Hyung, what’s wrong?”
Yoongi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, holding his stomach in case more comes up. “I guess I had too much to drink.”
Hoseok’s face softens. “Let’s go home then.”
Yoongi doesn’t ask if he’s done selling the two ounces he’d been tasked with selling- an unfair amount for a first timer if you ask Yoongi- but if the annoyed look on Hajun’s face is anything to go by, they probably weren’t done quite yet.
“I can drop him off-”
“I sold everything except that last eightball,” Hoseok says amicably enough but his voice is stern, brokering no room for argument. “I think that’s good enough for tonight.”
Hajun opens his mouth like he wants to say something but instead he just starts the car. The drive back is much quieter than the ride there, the radio turned down low and barely audible. Hoseok sits in the back with him this time and Yoongi takes his hand for comfort, squeezing it tight as his thoughts scream in his head.
He should tell Hoseok the truth but the words just aren’t there. Mostly, he’s just angry though the source of that anger can’t be pinpointed. He can’t just blame it on the shit night he’s had because it feels so much bigger than that. Minjun’s grin lingers behind his eyelids, he can see it so clearly, the sharp edge of those teeth glinting under fluorescent light.
“Seok.”
In the privacy of their safe haven, words are even harder.
“Are you gonna throw up again?”
“Seok, stop talking to Hajun.”
“I- did something happen?”
Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get the vision of Minjun out of his head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. What if- what if you get caught? What then?”
Hoseok guides him to sit on the couch, their legs pressed close together. Yoongi lets the warmth seep into his cold bones. He hadn’t actually had anything to drink but the room is spinning around him nonetheless.
“Care to tell me what prompted this?”
“I don't know,” Yoongi says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know Seok, I don’t like him, it- it scares me thinking about how easily everything could go wrong.”
“Let me show you something.” Hoseok draws out his wallet from his back pocket and Yoongi’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees the stack of bills inside. “I didn’t even sell all of it but this is about three months rent for this place.”
Are you sure about that?
“What would I do without you?”
“I won’t get caught.”
“How do you know that?” How can he be so flippant?
Hoseok grins. “When have I ever gotten caught?”
He didn’t used to be so cocky. At one point, Hoseok was careful to the point of being paranoid, always looking over his shoulder, never dealing in plain sight. The easy business lately has left him soft and trusting. Tonight has been proof of that.
“Seok.”
Say it.
That little voice in his head is loud and the panic is now familiar. He hates how, in a matter of a few words, Minjun has reduced him to a blubbering, anxious mess. He can’t shake it away no matter how hard he tries.
He needs to say it.
“Seok, I love you.”
Hoseok pauses. Yoongi can see the shift in his eyes clear as day, the way his entire body seems to readjust to the words, absorbing them much like one might absorb a well placed blow. Funny how Yoongi can go from needing to say the words to regretting it in an instant.
“Oh, hyung.”
Here it comes, the rejection. Yoongi braces himself but he’s not at all ready for any of it. And to think that things were going so well- too well, maybe- and now finally they have reached that impasse that Yoongi has spent months waiting for. It hurts a hell of a lot more than he ever thought it could.
Hoseok takes his hands, probably just trying to let him down easy. “Oh. I love you, too.”
Yoongi’s eyes snap up to his face and the look he finds there is so sincere it actually knocks him a few paces back. There could have been only one of two scenarios yet this is the one that surprises him most.
Hoseok’s smile broadens and he swoops in to gather Yoongi in his arms, the warmest and tightest hug Yoongi has ever had in his life. It feels right, like that final piece they had all been waiting for falls into place.
They stumble a few paces back from the force of that hug and then Yoongi’s lips are seeking out Hoseok’s and kissing him with that same firm urgency he feels taking over. He’s scared that if he let’s go, everything is going to magically disappear, taking with it this house and the man in his arms.
“Do you think I'd be doing any of this if I didn’t love you?”
Yoongi swallows hard, the air from his lungs sticking in his throat. Maybe he’s dreaming and if he squeezes his eyes hard enough he’ll wake up. But then Hoseok kisses him and this one feels a lot more solid than the last, more real .
“I love you.”
“Say it again,” Yoongi says.
“I love you.”
He asks again as they stumble up the stairs; once again while Hoseok gently but eagerly works their clothes off; and one last time as Hoseok settles between his legs, his body warm as an ember, sparking nerve endings Yoongi never even knew existed.
“Fuck, I love you,” Hoseok breathes against the side of his neck, pressing closer but Yoongi needs him to the point of being in his skin.
“I love you,” Yoongi says and when they finish, there is just another thing that they don’t talk about.
--
Yoongi doesn’t think to tell Hoseok about Minjun. The subject feels so insignificant after their night together and it’s hard to think about anything else when he’s been floating on top of the world for the last week. It’s like nothing can touch him and Hoseok now, all those fears and anxieties melting away with the revelation of three little words.
He doesn’t worry so much when Hoseok disappears throughout the day because he always returns at the end of it just as promised, without a scratch or hair out of place for Yoongi to complain about.
The money helps if Yoongi has any right to say such a thing. The meager earnings he brings in from his freelance jobs isn’t much to brag about and what Hoseok brings in every week is a lot more than the two of them used to make put together.
So Yoongi keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t let Hajun anywhere near the house- even though it’s not really his house in the end- but he spends enough time there that Hoseok lets it slide without comment. It becomes a lot easier for Yoongi to pretend that things are better than they actually are.
Hoseok talks a lot more about leaving. His favorite phrase so far is ‘when I’m done with all this.’
When I'm done with all this hyung , I’m going to take you far away from this place.
When I’m done with all this we can find a house, our own home.
Yoongi can’t help the bad taste that settles in the back of his throat every time.
But he doesn’t tell Hoseok these things, just like he doesn’t tell Hoseok about Minjun or the anxiety that still burns through his veins at the most inopportune times. Things are settled and they are solid, yet in moments of weakness Minjun’s voice manages to find a way into Yoongi’s psyche and ruin his day with five simple words: Are you sure about that?
He’s sure or at least he can convince himself that he’s sure. No matter how much Hoseok says he loves him, no matter how tight they hold each other at night, that anxiety refuses to go away. How could he even think of giving a voice to those anxieties when Hoseok is doing so well for them and he’s so happy to be doing it, too?
Three weeks later and Yoongi thinks he can mostly forget about the incident with Minjun. He has a good gig with a local studio going and what was supposed to be just three songs has turned into a six month contract with a ten thousand dollar advance. It’s more money than Yoongi has made at once. Ever.
“I’m so proud of you,” Hoseok says that night, bent over the tub as he tests the water and then adds one of Yoongi’s bath bombs. The water turns turquoise, glitter shimmering at its surface. He straightens and turns to Yoongi with that radiant smile he loves so much. “No, I mean it, hyung. I’m so, so proud of you. I told you you’d be great.”
“You did,” Yoongi says and he feels so soft he could melt. He’d lost his shirt sometime while they were in the living room, more worried about making out than watching the movie that had been playing for the last hour.
He isn’t sure who had suggested the bath, him or Hoseok but the evening had wound up here and the air smells of peppermint and blueberries. Yoongi wraps his arms around Hoseok’s bare torso, nearly toppling them into the half-filled bathtub. His chest blooms with some giant, inexplicable feeling and he hides the mess of giggles that burst from his chest in the crook of Hoseok’s neck.
“You did tell me, Seok. Thank you.”
Hoseok kisses his forehead and Yoongi swears everything feels just right.
--
He isn’t sure why he keeps coming to all these parties if he hates them so much but at times it’s like Hoseok says jump and all he can do is ask how high. By that point Minjun is nothing more than a distant memory, a shadow at the edges of Yoongi’s mind and he quite likes it like that.
Yoongi knows this isn’t going to be like the last few times he’s tagged along with Hoseok to these jobs, mostly just to keep an eye on him. This property is much bigger, the kind of place one might describe as an estate instead of just a simple house. The expansive lawn outside is littered with cars, the turf ripped up in some places, surely to make an ugly sight in the morning but everyone is too drunk to care at present.
Hoseok keeps an arm around Yoongi as they step out of the car they’d rented for the trip out there and step into the mass of bodies. The ride over had been much more peaceful without Hajun in sight. In fact, Hoseok is meant to work the party tonight alone and he’s in full spirits about the fact that Hajun trusts him enough for this. Yoongi will do his best not to dampen that infectious excitement.
The first thing he notices when they step inside are the speakers. Large, industrial sized speakers that make his teeth rattle in his mouth. He’s never seen this kind outside of concerts, meant for large venues and not for house parties.
“What a waste,” Yoongi mumbles, not like anyone would be able to hear him.
The headache starts almost immediately, a pounding pressure behind his eyes that synchronizes well with the beat of the music. He paws around Hoseok’s back pocket, feeling for the joint he’d surely brought because Hoseok is nothing if not prepared.
Hoseok grabs his wrist and whispers in his ear playfully, “we just got here, hyung.”
He’s right but the noise and all those bodies feel like too much and the pressure grows in his head. It reminds Yoongi about the second time they ever met, at a place much smaller and shittier than this but the beat is the same. Minjun had left early, wanting to hang out with his shitty friends more than he’d wanted to hang out with his boyfriend, so Yoongi had stayed purely out of defiance. He’s glad he stayed.
Sometimes he closes his eyes and remembers the look on Hoseok's face as he’d blown smoke into his mouth, his eyes hazy and red rimmed. He remembers the feeling that had bloomed from his chest, the dry taste in his mouth afterwards.
He remembers how Hoseok had made him feel like the only person in the world.
It’s a lot of the same now, though Hoseok is busy working he keeps that arm securely around Yoongi’s waist, dragging him along wherever he goes. He’s got the charm turned up high, his eyes a little hazy from the blunt he’d smoked before they drove over. Even Yoongi finds himself a little bit more enamored than usual, leaning into every word even if he doesn’t understand what the hell a teener or an eightball are.
Hoseok isn’t as discreet at parties and so money and drugs exchange hands without much discretion. People take notice and drift towards them, many just wanting a few free bumps but it’s easier to sell off larger quantities at once when everyone has the money to afford it.
A few drinks in and Yoongi finds himself staring fixedly at Hoseok’s profile, mesmerized by the way his jaw moves when he talks, and how he wets his lips halfway through a sentence, the pink tip of his tongue poking out for just a moment. He’s just buzzed enough to brazenly lean in and kiss the side of Hoseok’s neck in front of everyone there, salt on his lips and an inexplicable need for more.
Hoseok’s hand rests on the small of his back, an ember burning through layers of clothes. He can’t help it when he does it a second time, this time really tasting him with the flat of his tongue. If he were even a bit sober than he is at the moment he might be embarrassed by his behaviour but as it is, he wants people to see them and know that this beautiful man belongs only to him.
Yoongi opens his eyes, nearly brimming with the satisfaction of knowing everyone is watching, and meets a cold, dark stare across the room, fixed steadily on him. That chills him immediately and he tries to shake away the image thinking maybe he’s hallucinating or having a nightmare and if he squeezes his eyes hard enough he’ll wake up wrapped in warm sheets and even warmer arms.
But Minjun is still there, staring back with a small grin on his face and a red solo cup in one hand. He really does look like a mirage, moving wistfully with the mass of bodies around them.
Hoseok says something and then laughs completely obliviously.
The sense of danger that washes over him can’t be ignored. He nudges Hoseok lightly but the other is too caught up in conversation to care, that smile fixed on his face. Minjun doesn’t look away, his dark eyes freezing Yoongi in place.
Hoseok leaves Yoongi’s side for a moment to finish the deal, shaking hands with a blond haired frat boy with a too-wide smile. Minjun looks like a statue, just standing there and staring, uncaring of anyone who bumps into him.
“Come dance with me,” Hoseok shouts over the music and then his lips land sloppily on Yoongi’s neck, mouthing along his racing pulse. He doesn’t notice Minjun- how can he not notice him? It’s all Yoongi is aware of as Hoseok drags him out into the mass of bodies.
At least his body is warm and solid under Yoongi’s hands, moving in that way that still makes his lungs unable to take in any air.
He keeps waiting for the day he stops getting butterflies when Hoseok is just being Hoseok.
“ Shit.”
Yoongi can feel the moment Hoseok spots Minjun, muscles tensing under Yoongi’s palm. His reaction is almost like clockwork. The way he curses and then pulls Yoongi impossibly closer against him, a possessive hand on the small of his back- it’s all expected and Yoongi preens under the attention, all previous fear forgotten.
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Yoongi says with a shrug, drawing Hoseok down for a kiss with a hand on the back of his neck. Heat rushes through him - it’s like he needs this just as much as he needs Minjun to see it and know that his words have not slithered between their relationship.
“Fuck, hyung-”
Hoseok’s hands form an iron grip on Yoongi’s hips, turning him around and pressing them chest-to-back, the slowly torturous beat guiding their movements. Yoongi’s head is fuzzy, his knees weak. Hair sticks to his sweaty forehead.
He could collapse, combust, float away but always it’s Hoseok who holds him steady and guides him. Hoseok, who gives him butterflies every time they touch.
“Fuck, you’re mine.”
The way Hoseok holds him mixed with those words whispered hotly against the side of his neck make Yoongi involuntarily groan. The music is too loud for anyone but Hoseok to hear but his face flushes red immediately. For one paranoid second, he’s sure everyone heard.
Hoseok curses again and Yoongi snaps his eyes open, unable to remember when he had closed them in the first place.
Minjun is gone.
Just a ghost , Yoongi tells himself.
He turns in Hoseok’s arms, facing him fully now. His pupils are blown wide, his face red with sweat dotting his hairline and dripping down his temples. Yoongi has never found him so attractive before, unable to draw himself away even if he wanted to- which he very much does not.
In Hoseok’s eyes there is a question that Yoongi quickly answers with a harsh press of lips, mostly teeth and stinging in its intensity. He wants everyone to see Hoseok’s hands on him, the way he’s held so lovingly in the midst of so many others. With dozens of bodies pressed all around him, it’s easy for Yoongi to feel like the only person in the world.
It isn’t very clear how he goes from dancing downstairs one second to being dragged up the stairs the next. His head feels light as air, his hand warm where it’s being held. Hoseok pushes him into the bathroom and then up against the door roughly before it can even finish closing with an echoing slam.
Hoseok is nothing short of a ravenous animal, his mouth unforgiving as he marks up the side of Yoongi’s neck. He can’t stop repeating those words: you’re mine, you’re mine. A mantra as he nearly tears Yoongi’s clothes from his body.
The bathroom isn’t the most optimal spot but the way Hoseok grabs him and lifts him up onto the sink, knocking everything to the floor in the process, makes Yoongi easily forget about any inconvenience the location might present. He spreads his legs and lets Hoseok step closer to devour him.
“Fuck, the way he was staring at you,” Hoseok grunts. His cock is hard in his boxers, pressing insistently against Yoongi’s own erection but the needed friction isn’t there and no matter how wide Yoongi spreads his legs, it just won’t come.
“I’m sure he got the message loud and clear,” Yoongi says. His head falls to the side, Hoseok’s mouth finding heated skin. Yoongi tugs him closer, arms around his shoulder to hold him there. “Seok, c’mon.”
“Say it,” Hoseok growls, nipping harshly at Yoongi’s skin.
Yoongi feels like a ragdoll with the way Hoseok grabs him and drags him around, bending him over the sink now and tearing his boxers off. The cold air makes him gasp, his back arching back invitingly in hopes of getting what he wants most.
“I’m fucking yours,” Yoongi sighs, knocking someone’s toothbrush to the floor as he scrambles to find purchase somewhere before he drifts away.
Hoseok spreads him open roughly, dry fingers rub against his rim and making him whine loudly. It feels like he’s been hard for hours, days , and he can hardly stand it, the sensitive head occasionally rubbing against cold porcelain.
Yoongi passes the lotion back impatiently, mercifully the only thing they hadn’t managed to knock off the counter. He can’t wait for much longer, that ache from deep inside spreading to his limbs and filling his head with a hazy need that can’t be ignored.
“Fucking yours, Seok, c’mon.”
Hoseok makes quick work of him, his fingers slick and cold inside Yoongi’s hole as he stretches him open.
“You always make the filthiest noises when you’re desperate,” Hoseok says, right next to Yoongi’s ear.
The slide inside is torturously slow, stretching and filling Yoongi nearly to the breaking point. He arches up onto the tips of his toes, his mind completely blank of any anxiety or worries; nothing matters in the world except the feeling of Hoseok driving his cock deep into him, whispering filthy things into his ear as he does.
Hoseok has never been so relentlessly brutal, his nails digging into the soft flesh of Yoongi’s sides and his thighs. Surely there will be more bruises than either of them can account for; Yoongi welcomes them gladly. Some fucked out part of his brain hopes everyone outside can hear; hopes that when they walk out of there he’ll be so covered in bruises and scratches that no one will be able to deny who he belongs to.
“Seok-” he chokes out.
He’s being fucked so hard he has to put his hand out to stop his head from hitting the wall. Every one of his nerve endings are on fire, from where he’s stretched so good around Hoseok’s cock all the way to the very tips of his fingers and toes.
“Seok, fuck, yes-” there’s a line of spit dribbling down the side of his mouth, dripping from his chin and onto the sink. He can’t even think about anything other than the molten pleasure flooding his system.
Yoongi comes with a rough groan, his come splattering the sink and pooling on the floor. His knees go weak and were it not for Hoseok, he would have collapsed in his own mess. But Hoseok either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care, fucking into Yoongi with the same fervent urgency as before. He whines as his over sensitive hole gets pummeled again and again, slick wet noises filling the small space of the bathroom.
In his ear, Hoseok whispers, “ mine, Yoongi. You’re fucking mine.”
Yoongi doesn’t know how much longer it goes on like that, feeling like a ragdoll in every sense of the word. His limbs are barely strong enough to hold him up, his only point of contact to this world being Hoseok behind him, fucking him senselessly out of his mind. He knows when Hoseok comes when he feels a flare of pain on his shoulder, teeth sinking down and nearly breaking skin with the force of the bite. His cock twitches as warmth floods inside of him, Hoseok coming so much that some of it leaks out and spills down Yoongi’s thighs.
Hoseok’s eyes are still so damn bright and dilated when he turns Yoongi around and kisses him sloppily. Yoongi isn’t sure where all this energy has come from but he’s too close to turning into a puddle to care.
They redress slowly and when they step out of the bathroom it’s to find a long line of disgruntled college students glaring back at them, too much knowledge in their eyes and now that Yoongi is coming down from that good orgasm high, he’s a little more embarrassed than he thought he’d be just a few moments before.
Minjun isn’t seen for the rest of the night, so Yoongi sinks easily into the warm buzz in his veins. And if, later into the night, he sees Hoseok bent over three little lines of cocaine, he doesn’t think twice about it. In fact, he doesn’t think about much of anything until they’re back in the car and Hoseok is pulling his cock out in the driver’s seat.
“Need your pretty lips,” he mutters and Yoongi is all too pliant, his mouth falling open without much more urging. He doesn’t even fret when Hoseok drives home like that, a hand resting easily on the wheel and his cock leaking precome in Yoongi’s mouth.
--
The sunlight is blinding.
It’s the first thing Yoongi notices that morning, blinding golden light that drags him from the warm embrace of a good sleep. He stretches out lazy limbs only to find cold, empty sheets.
That’s right, he remembers. Hoseok is working that job today, a huge sale one city over that he’s been talking about for the last few weeks. He’s probably with Hajun now, his last big sale, he calls it.
After this, Hoseok promised.
Yoongi rolls over on his back and sighs. He could use a few more hours of sleep but the sunlight is too bright and if he’s going to get up to close the curtains he might as well just start his day.
The smell of fresh coffee helps to wake him up and he sips on it slowly as he looks through the pile of mail on the table. It’s mostly bills, some of them overdue, but Yoongi stops when he finds a small manila envelope tucked away under some coupons. There’s no address or name on it, the envelope perfectly blank but there’s very obviously a stack of something inside.
With coffee staining the corner of his mouth, Yoongi puts the mug down and carefully opens the flap. His mind is filled with mundane thoughts as he does it- how he should probably go back to his own place at some point and do what little laundry he has over there, what he should do for dinner, but it all comes to a screeching halt when his eyes fix on the photographs that spill out.
It takes him a moment to really process it. At first all he can see is Hoseok and a particularly good shot of that bright smile as he talks to someone. Yoongi isn’t in any of them but when his eyes shift away from Hoseok’s face he sees the real subject of the photographs: little baggies of what can only be cocaine, clearly visible in every shot.
A noise from behind makes Yoongi jump but when he turns there’s nothing- and more importantly no one - there. Probably just his nerves, he rationalizes and then turns his attention back to the photographs, coffee entirely forgotten. Whoever had taken these must have left them in the mailbox with the rest of the mail but whether it was meant for Yoongi or Hoseok to find there’s no way of telling.
One thing is clear though: these are all clearly incriminating and dangerous if they were to fall into the wrong hands.
Yoongi has half a mind to burn them, just get rid of them and never breathe a word of this to anyone, not even to Hoseok. Some part of him believes that if he were to just forget about it then so would whoever took these photographs and all their problems will simply vanish.
There’s another noise, this one coming from upstairs, right above Yoongi’s head- where Hoseok’s bedroom is. All the spit in his mouth dries up, a feeling like cotton mouth but ten times worse. It's’ not a sound that he can ignore and chalk up to his anxious imagination because it sounds very indisputably like footsteps.
No one else is supposed to be in there but him. Hoseok left hours ago if his cold side of the bed is anything to go by and Yoongi knows for a fact neither of them invited anyone else over.
He hears the footsteps again, closer to the hall, and the slam of drawers as the stranger in their home pilfers through their things. Bile rises in his throat and following it might be what little bit of coffee Yoongi had before everything started spinning. He could run, the door is closer, easier than going upstairs and confronting what could possibly be a nightmare.
The photographs are his first priority, the clear evidence of Hoseok’s deeds. He could shred them or hide them or burn them and though it’s fire that’s on his mind, he knows trying to start anything would take too long, especially with the footsteps out in the hall now, heading to the stairs.
He shoves them in his back pocket and turns towards the door as the stranger takes the first steps down, only to bump against a solid figure, the impact nearly knocking him on his ass. Instead, he stumbles back a few paces, gripping the edge of the counter for balance.
“Minjun?”
He isn't scared, not at first. It takes a moment for his mind to catch up and realize that Minjun isn’t supposed to be there; that he’s in terrible danger.
It’s a foolish errand trying to find a way out. Minjun grins like the cat that’s trapped the mouse, blocking off the only way to the front door. The back door is locked and even in his state Yoongi is aware enough to know that he’ll never make it there in time.
“I thought I smelled a rat in my house.”
Minjun tuts as he steps closer, a small sound that makes Yoongi flinch away, even when there’s not much space for him to get very far. His hip bumps against the edge of the counter, sending searing pain flaring through him.
“You’re cute when you try to act tough,” Minjun says, his face and movements smooth as butter. He doesn’t harbor the same fears as Yoongi; it’s clear that he’s the one in control here and Yoongi is nothing more than a trapped animal.
“Hey, I couldn’t find what you were looking for but- oh shit.”
Yoongi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s behind him, Hajun’s voice as grating as ever. He’s surrounded now and feeling terribly stupid for not putting the pieces together. “Fuck, I should have known-”
But he doesn’t get to finish the sentence, a sharp pain flaring at the back of his head and then he’s collapsing to the floor, Minjun’s sharp grin the last thing he sees before everything goes black.
--
“You said no one would be there.”
“Forget what I said. Do you have his hands secured?”
Yoongi comes to consciousness in bits and pieces. There are voices and he recognizes those voices but it takes a moment for his aching brain to line up the faces with their names. His hands are tied, that’s true but his feet aren’t, at least not yet. And wherever he was, it was bumping and jostling around, hitting his head and limbs on what felt like hard, cold metal.
His eyes open slowly, the world coming into view as he does so but there’s really not much to see. Only specks of light in mostly darkness, jumping and turning as the car jostles him along.
“Where the fuck is Hoseok?” he rasps out, his voice weaker than he’d thought. There’s a pause in conversation and then the unmistakable sound of Minjun’s laughter.
“We’re taking you to him, don’t worry,” and there is glee on Minjun’s face as he speaks.
The pain in his head is splitting him open and getting worse by the second. He doesn’t feel as scared as he should be, mostly just angry at himself. A part of him just knew Hajun was bad luck but he hadn’t listened nearly as intently as he should have because Hoseok had reassured him and he trusts Hoseok with everything.
Minjun strokes a finger gently down Yoongi’s cheek, smiling sardonically to himself and making Yoongi’s stomach twist with sickness. “You know, I didn’t think it would be so easy; I thought you’d at least put up a fight. He’s making you lose your edge, Yoongi.”
Yoongi jerks his face away but there isn’t much room for him to move so Minjun’s hand goes right back to where it was, stroking sickeningly against his skin.
Hajun is mostly quiet in the driver’s seat, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the road but Minjun had decided to sit in the uncomfortable back with Yoongi- and god knew what exactly had been going on before he’d regained consciousness. All his clothes are still on, at least. But all he can really think about is Hoseok, in some undetermined location, yet unaware of Minjun’s plans for him. But what exactly did they need Yoongi for? Unless-
“We’re here.”
The bumping and rattling stop until for one second there is quiet, still bliss. Then, Yoongi is being dragged out of the car with an unforgiving grip on his arm, stumbling over gravel and kicking up dust that clogs his throat.
They’re in the middle of nowhere from what he can tell, just gravel and a run down chain link fence surrounding a series of squat, corrugated metal buildings that are more rust than anything. He’s promptly gagged and led inside the cool shade of one of the buildings, clearly abandoned for a long time. There’s dust and rubble and a decomposing pile of leaves and rat remains in the corner. Medical and safety flyers line the walls, the paper brittle and yellowed.
The gag is useless. He could scream until he lost his voice but there’s no one out there who could hear him.
No one out there to help.
“Fucking hot,” Hajun mutters, wiping sweat off the back of his neck with his hand.
They stand in front of a window with most of its panes knocked out, the offending rocks littered at their feet. And all is quiet. It’s quiet for a long time and Yoongi can see the heat waves in the distance, rolling over bleached gravel. Worst of all, Minjun keeps touching him, small touches on his arms or the small of his waist. Places Yoongi wouldn’t easily be able to shake him off without a struggle. But he still knows Minjun well enough to know that if he wants to touch, he’ll touch.
“What?” Minjun asks with a particularly sickening hand on Yoongi’s back, too low for comfort. “Don’t look at me like that, did you really think you’d get away with the shit you pulled without consequences?”
Yoongi has to look away because it’s true and they all know it. Things had been mostly quiet since then and Yoongi had foolishly let himself fall into a sense of ease and comfort, thinking no one would ever be able to touch him and Hoseok. Even knowing how Minjun is he’d thought- oh, but how foolish he’d been.
Hoseok’s beat down sedan pulls into the lot, bumping over the gravel and kicking up even more dust. His music can be heard from there, an upbeat song he’s been obsessed with lately pumping out of the speakers.
Yoongi struggles against the restraints, needing to yell and warn Hoseok but he’s so completely useless that Minjun actually laughs at him. Heat rises to his cheeks.
“Cops are on their way, should be no more than a few minutes,” Hajun says and at those words Minjun turns that cat-like grin on Yoongi again.
All the blood in his veins gets replaced by ice. It’s like everything clicks into place without him having to even ask it, while Minjun and Hajun really look like they’ve just found the goose that laid the golden egg. They all watch Hoseok step out of the car, his face serene and pace unhurried as he looks around and stretches in the heat of the day.
Yoongi wants to call out to him but there’s a gag in his mouth and Minjung is stroking his hair and he thinks he might throw up all over himself. He should have known better, should have made his warnings more clear. People like Hajun didn’t hang around people like Hoseok, not unless there’s something to gain out of it.
He feels stupid; he is stupid.
Minjun starts to stroke his hair in that gentle way again, lightly brushing strands out of Yoongi’s face as Hoseok stretches his legs and then looks at his watch impatiently. Completely oblivious to what hides in the shadows only a few meters away.
“Gonna make you watch it all,” Minjun whispers in his ear, voice sickeningly sweet. “Gonna make you watch as they arrest him and cart him away. And maybe then I’ll keep you around for some fun.”
Yoongi’s entire body clenches hard with sickening horror. He struggles against the restraints around his wrists, trying to yell despite the gag as panic seizes him completely. There’s no time to think anymore, only act.
He throws himself hard against Hajun, knocking both of them into the dirt. His head makes impact with the floor hard, causing sparks behind his eyes and even more pain in his head.
“Fuckin’ christ, ” Minjun says, more annoyed than anything else. When he’s close enough, Yoongi kicks out and gets him square in the middle of the stomach.
A small scrimmage ensues, one that Yoongi isn’t too interested in winning; he doesn’t need to, anyway. He sees with great satisfaction that Hajun’s nose is bleeding and Minjun can’t quite catch his breath. Even when Minjun grabs him by the hair and drags him to his feet, only to knock him down again with a swift punch to the face, Yoongi doesn’t care, it becomes like a distant game to him. Get up, get punched, fall down again. At one point he stops feeling the pain and focuses instead on his singular goal: make as much noise as possible.
The sirens whir in the distance, still a ways away but Yoongi can hear them clear as day as they approach and panic floods him. His entire head is in flames and he’s sure there’s blood in his mouth now. There’s blood everywhere and it blurs with the murder in Minjun’s eyes.
Yoongi can’t hear anything above the rushing in his ears, and there are no thoughts beyond the pounding in his head. It’s Hajun, still whining about his nose, who drags Yoongi up that time and throws him back violently, the impact causing his head to smash through what bit of glass stubbornly clings to the frame. All noise around him thins out to a high pitched whine, as if a fly has made its home inside his skull and was somehow bouncing around and scrambling his brains.
Someone hits him hard in the stomach and he falls. And he waits. But no more punches come, no one grabs him painfully by the roots of his hair. He slumps forward, falling face first into the dirt and knowing that he has to get back up and do something but his body is spent, useless. The wharbling of sirens grows louder and louder; it won’t be long until the cops come bursting into the yard with their guns drawn and Hoseok-
Hoseok.
Despite the pain, despite everything, that’s the one thing that he clings to, the very reason he had done any of this in the first place.
Warm hands are on him, turning him over on his back and there’s blood and dirt in his mouth and eyes. He fights against those hands, kicking up hard, hoping to make contact with some soft fleshy bit despite his blindness.
“-hyung! Yoongi hyung?”
Yoongi is helped to his feet this time instead of getting dragged up. Those same gentle hands wipe the dirt and blood from his eyes, holding his face steady as Hoseok gazes down at him with all the adoration and worry in the world.
“Look what they fucking did to you,” he whispers.
Hearing a groan, Yoongi turns and sees what Hoseok did to them . They look much like Yoongi thinks he’d looked just moments before, dirty and bleeding and groaning with pain. With his hands still tied behind his back- and without much time to spare- Yoongi walks to Minjun first and watches him try to crawl away before he kicks him swiftly in the gut and then once in the teeth after he falls, knocking him out cold.
He’s surprised by how swiftly the anger fills him, a raging, molten thing that comes alive inside of him. The voice in his head tells him to keep kicking, there’s certainly nothing stopping him- not Hoseok, not the pathetic way Hajun clings to his leg as if begging him silently to stop.
Yoongi doesn’t want to stop.
The only thing that pulls him away from that rage is the sirens, always those damn sirens. They’re too close, there’s nowhere to run, and now it’s just the four of them and a car full of cocaine out there.
“We’re fucked.”
Hoseok grabs the small pocket knife he always carries around with him and undoes the rope around Yoongi’s wrists. He tries to rub away the soreness with his thumb. “Now would be a great time for that genius brain of yours to be put to good use.”
“Fuckin’ hurts, Seok,” Yoongi says, spitting out blood from his mouth. He isn’t sure what he means, if it’s his head or his face or the rest of him that feels worse than the others. “Fucking bastards, I should-”
Hoseok holds him back from falling like a vengeful spirit upon the other two. “We have to get out of here.”
And he’s right, Yoongi knows that he’s right, but that doesn’t stop him from kicking them one more time as they run by them, a petty move on his part. Outside, it’s so bright it’s blinding and their eyes take too long to focus. But the panic is just as blinding and even though Hoseok is right next to him, solid and whole except for a blooming bruise on his cheek, was any of that really worth it if they can’t get away in the end?
Hoseok must be in a better head space because he says, “over here,” and in a moment, he and Yoongi are running across the smoldering hot lot, police lights flashing behind them.
Yoongi had been too out of it in the moment to really notice where Hajun had left the car. It’s a small SUV with peeling blue paint, tucked away behind a smaller building, clearly visible from where they had been.
“What was even supposed to be their escape plan?” Hoseok asks. Both of them breathe a sigh of relief when they find the keys stuck behind the sun visor.
“I’m sure they thought they had one.”
Yoongi has never been in a police chase before, nor did he ever think he’d find himself in one. But it seems like they peel out of there just in time, the tires squealing and the dust flying, blue and red lights in their rearview mirror. There’s no way they won’t get caught, weaving in and out of traffic as they are and Yoongi grips the seat in a white knuckle grip, waiting for a collision, for a dead end, for anything .
He spends a lot of time waiting. Even when the lights disappear and they’re driving easy again, even when Hoseok reassures him that no one is after them anymore- Yoongi waits for the inevitable separation, the shouting. The gunshots.
“People will be looking for us now,” Hoseok says, pulling off into the parking lot of a small diner. It feels like they’ve been driving for hours, even the trees around them are completely unfamiliar, something Yoongi didn’t even know was possible but he can’t help feeling unwelcome wherever the hell it is they’ve stopped. “Minjun and Hajun must be in police custody now and I doubt they’ll keep their mouths shut.”
“They will, if they know what’s good for them.”
Hoseok sighs and looks around. Even Yoongi thinks the notion is silly but silly makes him feel sane. He can’t look too closely into the situation or he feels he’ll lose it completely. The bruise on Hoseok’s cheek has gotten bigger, curling around his eyes some; Yoongi has been too scared to look at himself but he trusts Hoseok when he, after wiping Yoongi’s face down with a wet rag, had proclaimed that he ‘doesn’t even look that bad’. Maybe it’s bullshit but he chooses to believe it anyway.
Standing in front of the fading sunset, Hoseok asks, “what now?”
It’s a good question, one neither of them have a real answer to. Right now, the future has never felt so uncertain for them. There’s no security, no anonymity, no place to call their own. They can’t go back, just keep going forward.
Yoongi kicks the tire of that piece of shit car and more paint flakes off. Hoseok walks up behind him and squeezes the air out of him. Everything is sore and hurts but Yoongi lets him.
“Fuck if I know,” Yoongi says. “First thing we need is food.”
“And then gas,” Hoseok concludes.
“And after that, who the fuck knows.”
He can hear Hoseok breathing right next to his ear, a tight sound. “You can say it hyung, it’s okay.”
Yoongi turns to face him, knowing he’s not really mad, not at Hoseok, at least but-
“I fucking told you so.”
But damn does it feel good to say.
They stop in the diner, trying to act as casual as they can so as not to draw attention, even with their faces looking the way they do. On the inside, Yoongi is ready to crash through a window if it means being able to get out of there.
He barely tastes their dinner.
Once they finish it’s completely out, only the headlights of a few scattered cars on the lot. They’ll need new clothes and a good dye job, too. But it’s late and right now the most important thing is finding a safe, warm space to lick their wounds together. Tomorrow they can figure the hard stuff out.
“Yoongi?”
Yoongi tears his eyes away from where he’d been staring at the stars up above, so much brighter than in the city. It was a different world, a different life.
Hoseok stands by the popped upon trunk of the car, staring down at it’s contents with his mouth hanging open. Yoongi approaches carefully, not sure if to expect some rotting body parts or guns or more drugs.
His jaw drops open too. It’s the last thing he could have expected, thousands upon thousands of bills neatly banded and stacked in the trunk.
“Oh, they’re definitely going to talk.”
“Seok?” Yoongi says, placing his hand over Hoseok’s where it’s holding the trunk lid open. “I think it’s best if we get going now.”
And he closes the trunk very gently.