Chapter Text
///Sunday ///
Seokjin woke up with a groan. His arms and legs, which previously had been alluring assets in his efforts to dance the night away, now felt like huge inconveniences, throbbing in discomfort under the messily strewn covers of his bed.
As the sunlight dragged him back into consciousness, he stubbornly refused to fully give in to it. While he wriggled his fingers and toes to ensure that they were still attached and functioning, he would not concede his last line of defense against the day. His eyes stayed resolutely closed, knowing that even a single sliver of the light shining brightly through his window would immediately activate his impending killer headache.
He tentatively lifted one of his suddenly immensely heavy arms to rest over his face, and silently cursed his drunk self. Some people surely managed to strike the perfect balance of how many drinks would enhance a fun evening but not prevent them from returning safely home, completing their nightly skincare routine, drinking a litre of water and drawing their curtains before getting a peaceful night’s sleep.
Jimin was probably one of those people. He was probably out for a run right now, totally recovered from their evening of catching up and refreshed for the day ahead. The very same catch up had left Seokjin totally wrecked and scared to open his eyes.
The silent cursing became swearing out loud as Seokjin began to face the inevitability that he was going to have to get up and face the world. The same world that seemed to have so little respect for him that it provided him with a brand new rock bottom every weekend.
He can’t blame Jimin for that. His long time friend was nothing but supportive and loyal. Clearly concerned for him and this new, disastrous direction his life was heading in. Had been heading in for the past year. It was overwhelmingly nice of Jimin to still make an effort to spend time with him, to invite him places and continue to laugh at all of Seokjin’s jokes as he had been doing for the past 6 or so years of their friendship despite the fact that Seokjin had been getting increasingly worse at all aspects of being a good friend.
Their night at the cocktail bar had made that much evident, at least to Seokjin. Hence his disregard for the human limits of alcohol consumption. His aim was always to drink just enough to get past that awkward stage, when all he could think about was how beautiful and successful Jimin and all his friends were, and how he used to fit in perfectly with their circle of mildly famous socialites.
Two or three strong drinks could get him past the point of focusing on his spectacular fall from grace and how to avoid mentioning it. A few more, and he could even pretend it never happened and he was still Kim Seokjin, widely beloved producer and host of Seoul’s favorite drivetime radio show. By that stage though, he was no longer able to keep track of how many drinks he had consumed, lost the ability to turn down any further drinks offered to him and certainly did not have the wherewithal to judge the characters of the sleazy men who were buying them.
Thank god Jimin was there this time to guide him away from terrible decisions, to smile and dance with him instead, to wisely call time when Seokjin could barely stand up anymore and deposit him safely in a taxi. That wasn’t always how his Saturday nights ended, when he was left to make his own decisions.
But it was Sunday now. And even with his eyes sealed shut, Seokjin could tell he was alone. For the best, really. Now the only awkward interaction he had to deal with this morning was when he would have to look in the mirror, wash his face, and confront the only person responsible for the mess he found himself in.
///Monday AM///
Seokjin had managed to peel himself out of bed on Sunday, if only to spend the rest of the day on his couch, sinking deeper into a pit of despair as he scrolled through his mentions on social media.
Many news outlets had picked up an extremely unflattering paparazzi shot from Saturday of him stumbling out of the bar, a stranger's large hands on his waist and far too many buttons undone on his shirt. They were running it with the usual headlines, about a former star who had thrown away his chance at national treasure status by succumbing to homosexual debauchery. He was sick of it, but his impulse to make himself as miserable as possible, as miserable as he felt he deserved to be, did not allow him to look away from the endless attacks on his character.
He got himself out of his pit of despair in time for work on Monday morning, showered and dressed presentably as he headed down the street for his 9-5 job at a small local charity. It was vastly different from his previous work life, which had been full of meetings he could swan into, assistants to bring him coffee without being asked, and being charming on air for 2 hours a day.
Now he turned up at 9am, received a grunt from the doorman in return for his best good morning smile and sat down on a creaky chair at his own messy desk.
Truthfully, he was grateful to be gainfully employed at all. It’s not as if he had any other offers when he was very publicly and unceremoniously let go from his primetime position at KBS Radio. No one wanted a disgraced former radio DJ with a reputation as sullied as his.
He had driven past this little building on his street many times before on his way to various glamorous social engagements and it had always intrigued him, with its bright door and music note stickers in the windows. Of course he had never had the time or motivation to visit somewhere called Bora Youth Music Foundation, even if it was less than a ten minute walk from his apartment, but he had wondered sometimes what it was all about.
So when he saw a little sign in the window looking for a Media Manager (experience of music and recording equipment preferred) a few months after his life had totally collapsed, he applied.
As it turned out, BYMF didn’t have a particularly stringent process for selecting new employees, other than a routine check that you didn’t have a criminal record, and Seokjin suspected he might have been the only applicant, so within a week, he left behind his full time wallowing and had returned to productive society.
The charity had been founded and continued to operate under the guidance of Kim Taehyung, an eccentric but passionate man who seemed at times to originate from a planet other than Earth. His odd way of speaking only added to his charm however, and the fact that he had an objectively perfect face and a deep love for all children and animals, meant he was pretty much impossible to dislike.
Although his beauty could have led him into the world of high fashion modeling with his face on billboards and magazine covers the world over, Kim Taehyung had chosen a different path. He started Bora after graduating from university and realizing how few children have access to quality music tuition. Taehyung himself seemed to be playing a different instrument every other week, and his mop of dark curls popping up alongside the other much smaller learners attempting a new instrument in a music class was a common sight around the Bora building.
Seokjin’s job did not involve going near any trombones or violins himself, but Taehyung had a big vision that the young musicians at Bora would be given the opportunity to have their talents recorded and celebrated.
A compilation album, released each May at a glamorous fundraising launch, was now one of Seokjin’s main responsibilities. He encouraged shy singers and guitarists into the tiny recording booth and praised their efforts with the same grandeur he might have praised an idol group appearing on his radio show to promote a comeback. He also seemed to have been given much of the responsibility for organizing the launch party, which didn’t seem to exactly fit under his remit of Media Manager, but given how small the staff team at Bora was, it didn’t fit into anyone else’s either, so he didn’t really mind taking it on.
It was the organization of this party that Seokjin expected to be discussing when he got a notification that his presence was requested in Taehyung’s office at 10am on Monday.
But when he entered through the brightly painted purple door of the CEO’s office, the notable absence of Taehyung’s usual blinding smile hinted at something much more serious, and as Taehyung turned his computer screen around to face Seokjin, a lump of dread settled in his stomach.
On his screen was one of the articles that Seokjin had spent his Sunday hate-reading, the unflattering photo a glaring reminder that he could never truly escape the consequences of his actions, even within the purple walls of Bora.
“I think this is something we need to discuss, dear Seokjin,” began the CEO calmly.
“I know, I know, and honestly that picture makes it look much worse than it is, I was actually able to stand independently”, blurted Seokjin in a rush to defend himself.
Taehyung stopped him with a hand in the air, his gentle fingers reminding him to maintain some sense of decorum. “Seokjin, of course we at the Foundation were somewhat aware of your….. reputation prior to your employment here, but as you know I believe quite strongly in not judging people’s life choices and I remain extremely enthusiastic about giving second chances to anyone who seeks them.”
There was a pause as Taehyung deliberated over his next words.
“but some of these headlines, and the things they mention in the articles, well I’m worried they might start to reflect badly on the Foundation. We have our Album release in less than 2 months, and I just this morning received an email from one of our major supporters expressing some concern over your involvement.”
“My involvement?” Seokjin had his hackles up now, more than ready to defend his work against these naysayers.
“How does my social life have any effect on how well I can record an album and organize its launch? They should be looking forward to an event planned by such an exuberant social butterfly, clearly it’s going to be a lot more fun than any of their usual crusty charity galas!”
His hands began to wave wildly as his tirade went on but his boss, unflappable in every circumstance, simply took hold of one of his flailing hands and rested it under his own on the desk.
“I understand you totally, Seokjin, but these are our donors without whom we would not be able to continue our important work. Unfortunately sometimes we have to pander to their concerns.” He patted Seokjin’s hand once more before releasing it.
“Although no one would object to you having a fulfilling social life as the popular man I’m sure you are, our donors are very traditional people with some old fashioned ideas .If I can read between the lines of this carefully worded email they sent me, it’s not your going out that concerns them, it’s the nature of the establishments you appear to be frequenting.”
He glanced again at the screen, its embarrassingly high definition photo still on display. Seokjin in his drunken undignified state was naturally the focal point of the shot, but the name of the bar was also clear, its bright sign lighting up in the background. It was a gay bar, there was no hiding it, its rainbow colors fully on theme.
“So they’re homophobic, that’s what you’re saying?!” Seokjin felt his face redden with a growing rage. “They won’t give us money anymore because you employ gay people?”
Taehyung didn’t attempt to grab his hand again, astutely observing that the flailing had reached dangerous levels of velocity.
“As I said, I’m just reading between the lines here, they did not state anything explicitly regarding their views on your sexuality, simply expressed concern over your lifestyle.”
The emphasis he put on that last word showed he knew exactly what they had meant by it.
Seokjin had been fairly certain prior to this that Taehyung himself was not straight, but it appeared he was married to his work and prioritized that over anything else.
His rage continued to simmer as gathered his hands back to himself and placed them shakily in his lap.
“What now then? I’m fairly sure there are laws that prevent you from firing me based purely on my sexuality so you’ll have to think of something else otherwise you risk being sued.”
Seokjin’s brow was furrowed tight as he said this, all the ugly emotions from his last firing coming flooding back.
“ I have no intention of firing you, dear Seokjin, you are a great asset to our team.”
Taehyung’s hand fluttered a little, as if he was considering reaching for Seokjin’s hand again, but it was now far out of reach on the other side of the table.
“ We just need to…” a deep sigh escaped him, the first break in the serene expression he had maintained since their meeting began. “Somehow assuage the concerns of these donors without either directly confronting their homophobia or requiring you to drastically change your lifestyle”
The emphasis he put on lifestyle was this time accompanied by a twinkle in his eye as he reached for a pen, flipped open his notebook and poised ready to write.
“Any ideas?”
///Monday PM///
Seokjin did not, in fact, have any ideas at all about how to win over some homophobic old people and convince them he was not a menace to society.
Sucking up to the rich benefactors who supported BYMF was technically more their fundraising assistant Soobin’s job, but he only worked part time and the idea of having to share his current predicament with the bright enthusiastic young man and ask him for help made Seokjin itch. He would have thought he was used to living in a constant state of embarrassment by now but it turned out this was a whole new level.
Taehyung had left him alone for most of the day, promising to check in later and hear his ideas. His as yet totally non-existent ideas. He kept a cheerful face as the young people filed in for their various music lessons throughout the day, greeting the few bolder ones who popped their heads into his small closet-sized office to say hello.
He didn’t have any recording sessions booked until the end of the week, so spent his time editing and compiling previous tracks with his headphones securely positioned over his ears in an effort to block out the world. This was unsuccessful, as by 4pm he had been cc’d in 2 more emails to Taehyung from supporters “expressing concerns” over his recent appearance in the tabloids.
Given his distinct lack of possible solutions, Seokjin was hoping that he would be able to sneak out at the end of the day while Taehyung was distracted in some music class or other but of course he had no such luck.
4.45pm arrived and the gorgeous form of Kim Taehyung appeared in his doorway as if by magic. To Seokjin’s surprise, he did not demand a list of problem solving ideas from Seokjin, and appeared to have forgotten he’d even asked.
“I have thought of the perfect solution!” he declared, entering the tiny office with the aplomb of a lead actor stepping onto a stage.
There was not much for Seokjin to do except wait, his mouth agape, his role as mere audience member made clear.
“I really don’t think it’s the gay thing that bothers them, necessarily, you know?” Taehyung’s fingers briefly rose to the sides of his head at “ the gay thing” in a light approximation of speech marks.
Seokjin closed his mouth but said nothing.
“It’s more about what they are imagining goes on in these places. They are probably thinking you get up to the most sordid things.”
At this, Seokjin had to speak up. “Sordid? How can they assume I’m doing something sordid when l was literally only pictured stepping out of a bar! It’s a bit of a jump.”
Taehyung fixed him with a stern look. “Seokjin, you were practically naked. The man behind you looked like he was about to devour you.”
Seokjin mumbled a half-hearted defense about his shirt buttons.
“Did he? Devour you I mean? One can’t help but wonder about the ending of a story you get just a peek into.”
Before Seokjin could blurt out a shocked response to his boss’s enquiry into his sex life, Taehyung seemed to catch himself and shook his head quickly.
“Don’t answer that. Very inappropriate for me to ask, please forgive me.”
Seokjin cleared his throat. “So… you said you had an idea about how to fix all this?”
At this Taehyung brightened again. “Oh yes! As I was saying, I think the fact of you being gay would be much less offensive to our dear old homophobes if it didn’t take place in seedy alleyways.”
Seokjin knew he should be offended by at least 2 parts of that sentence but he was quickly losing any motivation to protest.
“Where should I be gay then? Only in the comfort of my own home?”
“What I am envisioning,” Taehyung barreled on, “ is not a hedonistic Seokjin, falling out of bars and into the beds of whichever gross characters you happen to have encountered that night, but our dear respected Seokjin, walking proudly into high class establishments, with a handsome, well dressed man on your arm, your head held high!”
Taehyung’s volume had risen throughout his little speech, and he was projecting his voice so loudly by the time he’d reached its climax, Seokjin was fairly sure their neighbors on both sides of the building were also envisioning this High Class Seokjin.
Seokjin himself was at a total loss for words, unable to respond to Taehyung’s wide eyes and hopeful expression waiting eagerly.
“What?” He managed to splutter out after an extended period of silence.
“Why? How?”
And then, perhaps the most important question of all, delivered flatly by Seokjin, but received gleefully by Taehyung,
“Who?”