Chapter Text
Maybe, just maybe, last night was a mistake.
That was the first thought Yoongi had as he came to consciousness, slumped on his couch still half dressed. There is a thrumming ache building behind his eyes, rhythmically thumping so deep in the recesses of his mind that he’s certain he can actually hear it.
“Min Yoongi if you do not open this door in the next five seconds I will not hesitate to schedule all your meetings for 8 am for the next month.”
Shit. He’s up before Seokjin’s fist can make another attack on the door. Rapidly attempting to blink the delirium from his eyes before deciding that he'd rather feel his way blindly through his living room to the front door, than face the wrath of the mid-afternoon sun.
“I’m coming for the love of fuck, don’t do that.” His voice is hoarser than it should be as he scrambles his way to the foyer, where he begins fumbling with the deadbolt. Out in the hallway he can hear an amused huff, and he hopes that maybe it's a good sign.
Finally the bolt slides away and Yoongi is able to yank the door open for the awaiting man. Stepping through the doorway, Seokjin places a paper bag and an ice cold to-go cup into the blonde’s hands and begins removing his shoes. Yoongi listens to the soft rustle of clothes as Seokjin settles into the space, mindlessly sipping on the iced americano until he feels a large hand cup the top of his head.
Jin’s grip is gentle but insistent as he leads Yoongi back to the couch, pushing the smaller down onto the still sleep warm leather. “Now you sit there and eat, I want you to actually remember me yelling at you.”
“I wasn’t that drunk…” Yoongi grumbles, but he still obediently begins reaching into the paper bag and pulls out the warm buttery croissant from within. Relying on his ears to track the elders movements, Stepping around the coffee table to his favorite chair, then the rapid click of manicured fingers sending a flurry of texts.
Half way through the french treat and with a majority of the americano gone, Yoongi finally finds the strength to open his eyes. Only to want to close them again as his gaze locks onto a particularly pissed scowl coming from the other side of the coffee table.
Before the younger can attempt to hide behind his eyelids again, Seokjin points to the screen of his phone, thrusting it towards Yoongi’s face. “Would you care to explain why This is what I woke up to this morning? I was supposed to be having breakfast in bed with Joonie this morning but No, I've been sending professional emails about you apparently giving blowies in a club bathroom since 9 am.”
Yoongi at least has the decency to let his cheeks fill with warmth. “I didn’t blow him, I mean I was going to… yeah, but two drunk kids started whispering about, Holy Shit, is that AGUST D, and it kinda spoiled the mood.”
Yoongi expects the scoff, but the crumpled up napkin colliding with his face startles him enough to make him drop his croissant. He goes to return Soekjin’s scowl but is taken back by the defeated look that greets him. “Shit Jin, what does it matter? This kind of shit has happened before and it’s never been an issue. People on Twitter will talk, the grannies will write their articles about how I'm A bad influence and a menace to Society, and then they will move on. What does it matter?”
Even as he’s speaking he can see the tension in his best friends forehead increasing, crinkling in ways it only does when something is really wrong. “Yeah, you’re right. It usually wouldn’t matter, but now it does. I know you like to stay out of the business end of things, but even you should know that we’re trying to go public. Investors aren’t going to want to have anything to do with us if they think our most popular idol is likely to drunkenly disgrace himself on a random Friday night.”
Yoongi wants to argue, feels the urge to lash out rise up in his chest but he hesitates when Jin shows him another image on his phone. It’s blurry, but Yoongi’s platinum blonde stands out in a sea of black. He’s boxing the stranger from last night up against the wall, he recognizes it as being moments before they slipped into the bathroom.
Jin speaks up again, “He actually has a really big Twitter following. He hooks up with idols and then rates the experience on a five star scale. Never uses enough detail to be sued, but it’s enough to get the fans talking.”
“I really doubt that would be a problem, I’m in fact quite confident he would have had a good time.”
Seokjin stands, tiny pieces of torn paper napkin falling from his lap. “That’s not the problem. For fucks sake, your fan base already talks enough about your Tongue Technology. What matters is that I’ve already had two phone calls from investors who are dropping us because of last night, and several others threatening to do the same if we don’t do something drastic to get your image back in line. When we started all of this I agreed to take on the management end of things, let you and Joon be your creative genius selves. But I can’t do that if you are constantly fucking us over with random drunken mistakes.”
There is a damning twinkle at the corner of Jin’s eyes, and it makes Yoongi stand to reach out for him. The anger in his stomach rising up to become an ache in his chest. Jin moves away before he can reach him. Stepping back towards the door, he’s already dialing another call into this phone. “Listen Yoongs, I know you aren’t doing this on purpose. That you love what we’re doing here. But whatever self sabotaging nonsense your brain is telling you to pull needs to stop. I love you, just… Just try to lay low until I get a chance to sort out what we’re going to do.”