Chapter Text
Park Jimin is late.
Park Jimin is fucking late and he’s going to get fired.
He’s going to get fucking fired and then how is he going to support his mother and Jihyun? How will he put Jihyun through school? How will he be able to pay his mom’s rent? Oh god, they’re going to end up on the street and he’s going to have—
No, enough! Jimin thinks wildly to himself while he speed walks towards the station, willing himself to go faster except he can’t go faster because his arms are filled with coffee cups for his shitty co-workers, and if he moves any faster he’s going to spill the scalding hot liquid all over himself. Sweat drips down his back and shines across his forehead, both from anxiety and the blistering heat that beats down on him mercilessly. Jimin’s stomach is in knots and his head is beginning to ache, and he wants nothing more than to go back to his small, cozy apartment and take a much needed nap.
Finally, blessedly, Bangtan News Station comes into view ahead of Jimin, and he struggles to keep the two cardboard trays of takeout coffees steady in his arms while he weaves through the people on the sidewalk, his heart thudding because even though he’s only five minutes late, his director is going to murder him.
Jimin reaches the revolving glass doors of the station just as his phone rings in his pocket, and he curses, stopping right outside the doors and struggling to balance the coffees to reach his phone. The trays in his arms wobbling dangerously when he answers and presses the phone to his ear.
“Park Jimin,” he answers meekly, already knowing who it is.
“Park!” The outraged voice of the Production Director, Kwon Jinho, shouts through the receiver, and Jimin winces. “Where the hell are you?”
“I’m sorry, PD-nim, I’m right outside. I’ll be up in a minute,” Jimin squeaks, his dull headache now a full blown throbbing in his temples. He doesn’t get a reply back, there’s only a loud huff before the line goes dead. Jimin lets out a shaky breath and takes a few seconds to gather his wits. He shoves his phone back in the pocket of his fitted black slacks and pushes through the revolving doors, breathing a little sigh of relief at the blast of cool air conditioning that hits him.
Jimin quickly makes his way across the wide, airy lobby of the first floor, glancing at his wrist watch and biting his lip. Stopping before the elevator, he is somehow able to press the button with his hip, and it slides open a moment later, already occupied by half a dozen people. Jimin tries to squeeze past them as they flood out onto the first floor, paying no attention to his muttered “excuse me”s and “pardon me”s.
Jimin rides the way up to the third floor quietly, his nerves going crazy while he tries to come up with an excuse as to why he’s late. He can’t exactly say ‘Sorry for being five goddamn minutes late, I was working at my other job this morning that I need to be able to support my family singlehandedly or else they’ll end up on the street before having to come here for my second job and fucking waiting on every one hand and foot please don’t fire me?’
The elevator doors slide open with a little ‘ding’, and Jimin rushes down the hall towards News Room Three, struggling to balance the coffees in his arms when he almost trips over his own tired feet. He scuttles into the room and is immediately met with the hustle and bustle of the 7 o’clock news crew, and he squeaks when he’s almost bowled over by one of the cameramen swinging around and almost clubbing Jimin in the head with his giant camera.
He spots PD Kwon standing outside the control room, going over something with Han Sooyin, the Executive Producer of Bangtan News. Taking a steadying breath and preparing himself to be fired on the spot, Jimin hurries over to them, trying not to trip on any equipment wires as he goes.
The moment Kwon spots Jimin approaching, he scowls and his black handlebar mustache quivers in annoyance. “Where the hell have you been, Park? You’re late!” The man barks at him and Jimin winces, his bottom lip already beginning to quiver as he steels himself for the inevitable.
“I’m sorry PD-nim, I—“ he’s cut off by Kwon stabbing his finger at Jimin’s chest, his eyes narrowed.
“Listen here, Park, I don’t want to hear any excuses—“
“He’s here now, isn’t he?” Han Sooyin interrupts gently, and both men turn to stare at her with wide eyes. The woman smiles kindly at Jimin, and he immediately feels some of the tension in his body melt away. EP Han is known for treating her employees and assistants well, and Jimin finds himself wishing he’d work more with her than Kwon, who is famous as a notorious hard-ass—and an ass in general—around the station.
“B-but, PD-nim, he, he…” Kwon splutters over his words, but trails off at Han’s quirked brow and pointed look. Kwon clears his throat awkwardly after a moment, and after slanting Jimin another glare, he snatches one of the coffees out of the trays in Jimin’s arm and stalks off. “Set up the news desk,” he orders at Jimin over his shoulder, and the blonde man sags in relief.
Holy shit, he wasn’t fired.
He peeks up at Han and gives her a tentative smile. “Thank you, EP-nim,” he says quietly, and she smiles again before reaching out to take one of the coffees.
“No need to thank me, Jimin-ssi. You’re a hard worker, no need for you to get in trouble over such a small thing.”
And just like that, she heads off to the other side of the news room to check on the lighting, her black high heels clacking the entire way and leaving Jimin staring after her in shock.
Holy shit.
Han Sooyin, Executive Producer of fucking Bangtan News, one of the biggest news stations in South Korea, said he, Park Jimin, is a hard worker. How does she even know his name? How does she even know he exists?
He wants to ponder over this new information, but if he dawdles any longer, Kwon really is going to fire him. So Jimin scurries into the control room and snatches the newly finished scripts off the desk in the back, balancing the papers precariously atop the coffee cups.
He has to be careful not to trip on the dozens of wires taped to the floor, his feet clumsy and heavy with exhaustion. Last night Kwon had had Jimin print and make copies of over two hundred different documents, then he’d had to sort them and file them away alphabetically. By the time he’d finished, it was 2:00 AM, and he had to be up for his other job at the dance studio at 6:00 AM the next morning. Jimin is tired, so tired, but unfortunately he never has much time for sleep these days, what with the job at the station and the dance studio.
Being careful to avoid the camera and production crews swarming around the news room, Jimin makes his way to the presentation stage where the 7 o’clock anchors will be arriving soon to report the news.
Where he’ll be arriving.
With shaky hands, Jimin shifts the takeout tray in his arms and places an iced caramel macchiato at one of the chairs behind the desk, then carefully sets down a cup of steaming hot black coffee at the other seat. He turns it this way and that until it looks just right, with the logo of the café it’s from facing towards where the occupant will be sitting. Jimin then plucks a little brown baggie from one of the trays and places it gently beside the coffee, adjusting it until he’s satisfied with how it looks.
Inside the bag contains a single blueberry muffin. Every day, Jimin purchases it separately from all the other coffee orders that the station pays for. He uses his own money, and at first he’d been sneaky about it, trying to hide the muffin from sight, but none of his coworkers seem to care what he does. Most of the time, they don’t even seem to know he exists. He’d been worried someone would ask why he goes out of his way to buy the muffin, but no one even looks at it, much to his relief.
Jimin is placing each script in its respective spots when some calls, “Anchors on set!” behind him, and Jimin jumps at the loud voice, heart shooting into his throat.
He quickly scurries off the stage and hurries over to take a place next to one of the cameramen who is adjusting his lens in preparation for the broadcast in a few moments. From his partial cover from behind the camera, Jimin watches as a woman sweeps into the news room, looking glamorous in a dark blue dress and perfectly curled hair, and a moment later, a man follows behind her, looking decidedly less enthusiastic.
The man is Min Yoongi, one of the 7 o’clock news anchors of Bangtan News.
Jimin’s breath hitches in his throat as his gaze sweeps over the black-haired man. The look on his sharp, narrow face is bored while he trails after the woman, wearing a fitted black suit jacket over a white dress shirt. His pink, curved lips are pouted out cutely and his forever tired eyes are droopy with sleep.
He wears a red tie that sways slightly while he walks, a dazzling contrast to his pale skin that gleams under the production lights. Jimin has always thought Yoongi looks best in red. It brings out his flawless ivory skin and sleek black hair. One time he’d worn this red velvet suit jacket that shouldn’t look good on anyone, but on Yoongi, oh, on Yoongi. Yoongi had looked ethereal in it, like a grumpy, delicate wood sprite on the verge of falling asleep, his skin practically glowing and his hair glimmering. Jimin’s mouth had gone dry at the sight of him. He’d been yelled at by PD Kwon because he’d been standing behind the camera ogling Yoongi when he should‘ve been going on another coffee run.
Jimin watches while Yoongi and his co-anchor, Gu Chaeri, make their way up to the news anchor desk and take their seats just as hair and makeup swarm them. Jimin holds his breath when Yoongi sits down and spots the coffee and brown paper bag next to his script while one of the stylist noonas begins patting a powder compact puff on his face.
Yoongi grabs the bag and reaches in to pull out the blueberry muffin, and Jimin’s heart flutters at the miniscule, almost unnoticeable smile that crosses Yoongi face as he looks at the treat. He goes to take a bite and has to dodge around the stylist noona, jerking it back when she tries to snatch it from him with a glare.
“Yoongi-ssi, you’re about to go on air, can you please eat that when you’re done?” She asks in exasperation, and Yoongi just narrows is eyes at her while holding the muffin closer to his chest protectively.
“I always eat it before I go on air,” he argues at her, and she just sighs in defeat and begins powdering his skin again, looking none too pleased when Yoongi takes a big bite of the fresh muffin. Jimin has to hold back a giggle of triumph at the satisfied look on Yoongi’s face while he chews on the pastry as the stylist noona brushes through his eyebrows with a spoolie.
“Why don’t they ever get me a muffin?” Chaeri frowns at Yoongi, crossing her arms as her stylist touches up her cheekbone highlight. Yoongi doesn’t even spare her a glance as he takes a sip of his coffee.
“Then ask for one,” he replies tiredly, and Chaeri sags into her chair, looking dejected.
“I can’t. I’m on a diet,” she sighs sadly, and Yoongi shoots her an exasperated look.
“You? On a diet? I’d like to see how long that lasts,” he quirks a smile at her, and Chaeri wrinkles her cute little button nose at him.
“Ha ha, very funny. Anyway, It’s the thought that counts,” she grumbles to herself while her stylist tucks a few star hairs back into her flawless curls. “They could have at least asked me.”
Jimin bites his lip and steps further into the shadow of the camera. By “they” Chaeri means the station, except that the station only pays for the coffee that Jimin orders and picks up. He himself buys the muffin for Yoongi everyday with his own money, because Jimin had once overheard him talking with one of the weather reporters that they were his favorite treat and he hardly ever gets to eat them. So when Yoongi had sat down at the news desk the next evening, there had been a big, fresh blueberry muffin waiting for him, and he’d been a little more than surprised.
“PD-nim, did you get this for me?” He’d asked Kwon, but the man had been too busy to even hear his question, only waving at Yoongi vaguely while he yelled at Jimin to hurry up and bring him his clipboard. So Yoongi’d just assumed it was part of the station’s order and hadn’t asked about it again, and no way in hell was Jimin going to approach him and say, “hello, you don’t know me, but I’ve had a giant crush on you for three months and I want to show you my love by buying you a muffin every day.” Nope. Not today, Satan. Jimin has never even spoken a word to Yoongi. The black-haired anchor doesn’t even know he exists, so he doesn’t think that would be the best plan of action.
Jimin prays to god that Chaeri doesn’t say anything about the muffin to any of the crew, because the producers would tell her that they don’t pay for a muffin for Yoongi, and then it’ll only take so long for them to figure out who does, and the reason why probably wouldn’t be too much of a leap after that.
“Three minutes until live!” Kwon calls just then, and both Yoongi and Chaeri sit up straighter in their swivel chairs while the stylist noonas finish touching up their makeup. One of the operation crew comes up and hands both of them an ear piece before clipping on a little microphone to the front of their clothes. Yoongi shoos him away once he’s done and picks up his script, skimming through it quickly.
When someone else comes up to snatch Yoongi’s muffin away, he begrudgingly lets them take it this time. “I want it back the second we’re off air,” he says sternly, looking none too pleased, and the woman nods meekly under his daunting expression before whisking his muffin away. Yoongi stares after it longingly.
“Places, people!” PD Kwon calls, and Yoongi and Chaeri quickly settle into their seats and straighten their backs. “And, lights!”
On cue, a flood of light illuminates the two anchors as the cameras rove closer. “Alright, begin count back and pan to camera two,” Kwon’s voice speaks from the headset that the cameraman next to Jimin is wearing, which he can just barely hear from where’s he’s standing. Kwon begins counting back from ten, and Jimin waits with bated breath, watching Yoongi sitting serenely behind the desk.
“…three, two, one…and, cue!”
Jimin watches as Yoongi and Chaeri come alive, greeting the watchers and introducing themselves with easy smiles. They start by giving a quick run through of what tonight’s news will be, bantering back and forth a little with friendly teasing. Jimin isn’t even paying attention to what they’re saying though, too busy watching the way Yoongi’s curved lips form different words and vowels, and Jimin can’t help but think how catlike they are. The anchors seamlessly follow the script, keeping it flowing smoothly and naturally, and Jimin is once again struck by how at ease and confident and friendly Yoongi looks on camera. It’s such a strange difference to how he is off camera; grumpy and cold and snappish, and Jimin is always transfixed by the change.
“Now, let’s go live with Kim Taehyung at the scene of a six car pileup. Taehyung-ssi, can you hear me?” Yoongi segues smoothly, and the image of a smiling Kim Taehyung pops up on the large screen behind the news anchors.
Jimin grins at the sight of his roommate and best friend, who looks ironically happy despite the gruesome car crash behind him, clutching his microphone close to his face and adjusting his ear piece with the other.
“Loud and clear, Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin’s friend smiles, his brown hair ruffling against the hot Seoul breeze that hits him with a vengeance, and Jimin can see the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. “I’m coming to you live from…”
Jimin feels sort of bad that he doesn’t pay any more attention to his best friend when his gaze once again returns to Yoongi, who takes a sip of his black coffee while Taehyung talks. He’s not currently on camera and he ignores a hiss from one of the stylist noonas when he almost spills some coffee on his shirt.
The rest of the broadcast goes by quickly and effortlessly, the cameras cutting across the studio to where the 7 o’clock weatherman, Zhang Yixing, presents the coming week’s weather, gesturing blindly at the green screen behind him. After that, the cameras are once again back on Yoongi and Chaeri, following Kwon’s instructions from his spot in the control room.
“And, outcue,” Kwon commands, and Jimin knows Yoongi and Chaeri can hear him through their ear pieces.
“This has been Min Yoongi,” Yoongi begins their ending sequence.
“And Gu Chaeri,” the woman next to him adds with a beaming smile.
“And this has been Bangtan News. Thank you for watching, and have a great night.” Yoongi and Chaeri both bow to the camera in unison.
“And, cut! That’s a wrap, people,” Kwon’s voice comes through the news room intercom. “Nicely done!”
The same man from before comes up and unclips the anchors’ microphones and holds out his hand for their ear pieces, which they quickly hand over. Chaeri stands up and stretches languidly, brushing a curled tress of hair over her shoulder and yawning. Yoongi stands up as well and immediately looks around for something. Instantly, the woman from before hurries up and holds out the half-eaten muffin, which he takes with a satisfied smile, and Jimin has to bite back a smile.
After the broadcast comes the usual flurry of chaos that leaves Jimin breathless with exertion while Kwon orders everyone around sharply. Cameras are put away, lights are turned off, and equipment is prepped for the next day.
At some point, Yoongi departs the station for the night, and Jimin can’t help the flood of disappointment that hits him at that. He wasn’t even able to see the black-haired man again because Kwon had him running around handing out files and sorting through papers for tomorrow.
“Park,” Kwon barks over his shoulder as the rest of the remaining crew trickle out of the news room. “Clean up the news desk, and I want tomorrow’s script on my desk by morning.”
Jimin sighs tiredly as he’s left alone in the middle of the empty news room, his eyes burning with tiredness and his body heavy with fatigue.
When Jimin finally pushes open the door of his apartment much later into the night, he isn’t surprised to see Jungkook sitting on the couch in the dark, the only source of light coming from the video games he’s playing on the TV. As soon as Jimin opens the door, Jungkook looks up and pauses the game.
“Hyung, you’re back,” he greets, standing up and walking over to steady Jimin as he kicks off his shoes, his legs weak with tiredness, clutching Jungkook’s muscled arm gratefully.
“Hi, Kook,” he mutters, barely able to get the words past his heavy tongue. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to wait up for me?”
“Not again with this,” Jungkook sighs, following Jimin down the tiny hall that leads to his miniscule bedroom. “You’re small and delicate and fragile and I worry about you when Taehyungie isn’t able to come home with you.”
Jimin chooses to ignore that remark, too tired to start anything as he slumps onto his bed and peels off his socks, not bothering to turn on the lights of his bedroom. “Is Tae home yet?” He asks instead, loosening his skinny black tie and tossing it somewhere across the room.
Jungkook shakes his head and pouts cutely. “He called and said he’s just going to stay overnight at a motel since it’s already so late. He’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
Jimin makes an incoherent mumbling sound as his heavy fingers begin fumbling with the buttons of his white dress shirt, hardly able to function at the moment. Jungkook watches silently when he finally removes his shirt and tosses it across the chair of his desk before working on the zipper of his slacks.
“Do you teach a class at the dance studio tomorrow?” Jungkook asks, watching in amusement as Jimin tries to pull of his pants without actually standing up.
“No. Hoseok’s giving me the day off to get some extra rest,” Jimin replies, and a wave of fondness sweeps over him at the thought of his friend and boss from the dance studio, who has been concerned about his health lately.
“Good, you need it,” Jungkook says with a satisfied nod. “Promise me you will sleep in, hyung?” He adds, fixing Jimin with a stern look which is just barely visible in the darkness of his room. Finally freed of his pants, Jimin crawls half naked under his covers, not even bothering to put on pajamas.
“Uh,” he hesitates, and he can practically feel Jungkook’s frown. “I was still going to the studio to practice, and then I was going to go do my mom’s grocery shopping tomorrow.”
“Park Jimin, you will sleep in tomorrow morning and let your body get some rest, or so help me god I will lock you in this room until you either fall back asleep or die of hunger.”
Jimin blanches at Jungkook, pausing in dragging the covers up around his body. “Wah, Jeon Jungkook, you have some nerve speaking to your hyung like that.”
Jungkook ignores him and steps out of the room, already pulling the door closed. “Goodnight, hyung,” he says quietly, and Jimin mumbles a reply, sleep already taking over his exhausted body as his head sinks into his pillow.
“Sleep good.” Jungkook adds as he clicks the door closed behind him, but Jimin has already slipped into unconsciousness.