Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Yoongi breathes in the cold, bitter air with an irregular shallowness. He can’t help it, and he knows why when he looks down at his watch once more like he has done every thirty seconds or so.

They’re taking too long, way too long.

He inhales sharply, squinting momentarily at the feeling of the soreness on the sides of his nostrils thanks to the open window he stands by, which invites the freezing air and a light snowfall inside.

He looks over his shoulder around the room he stands in, looking at the undisturbed and painfully white commercial light that comes from the hallway. There are expected signs all over the walls with rules and requirements from the workers that Yoongi and his partner Namjoon had forced and locked into a room only maybe ten minutes or so ago.

The security facility they hit tonight was the last stop, the very last - and it was located in a town called Daesocheon, a town which is about as humdrum as it gets. Yoongi didn’t even see anything more than a basic supermarket on the map when they were planning together. 

It’s everything he wants to get away from, everything he will get away from.

After Daesocheon, their eyes were set only on Seoul. The capital means new money, a new pool, a new life - and Yoongi cannot wait.

The best part of all of that is the fact that he gets to have it all with his best friend by his side.

Speaking of which, Namjoon shows himself at the doorway, the sound of his footsteps approaching of course having caught Yoongi’s attention. The CCTV camera in the room watches them both as he enters. You’d think they should’ve been disconnected— what with the place being raided— but no, facilities like this are smarter than that, but so is Namjoon.

He knew to take out a couple of cameras at the most. Any more would have triggered a security breach alarm, and they don’t have time for that.

Luckily for the pair of them, Namjoon works smart, and Yoongi works hard. That’s always been their thing, and it’s why they make such a good team. If only they had someone who worked fast, too; because as it goes right now, they have quite the opposite.

“They’re all locked in there still?” Yoongi asks Namjoon as he stands by the door.

“Of course.” He nods. “Although we probably should’ve given them a pack of cards, maybe Uno or something, considering how long this is taking.”

Yoongi exhales laughter.

Namjoon backtracks. “Not that they could even play, the way that they are. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I’ve always found it difficult to play board games with both my wrists and ankles tied. They’ll just have to play I Spy or something while Daehyun finishes up. Seriously, what is taking that motherfucker so long? He wasn’t even supposed to come inside.”

“You know Daehyun,” Namjoon says as he shrugs his shoulders, Yoongi rolls his eyes. “He sees a chance, he takes it.”

“As if Shin Saimdang wants his dirty fucking mitts all over her. Shit, we must be so behind.”

Namjoon looks at his watch. “Ten minutes behind, if you want to be exact.”

“Fuck, don’t say that.” Yoongi groans. “We’ve got enough to think about, never mind Shit-for-brains setting us back. If only we had our getaway car, huh?” 

“It’d just be more to worry about.” 

“And we can’t have that, can we Namjoon-ah? Worry. We don’t worry, not the two of us.”

Namjoon just smiles at him, not saying anything in response before he heads out of the room.

Yoongi calls to him, “Tell him to hurry up, will you? If we don’t get out of here quick enough, we’re fucked.”

Looking back towards the open window, Yoongi realises that he spoke too soon. He mutters a “Fuck.” to himself as he sees familiar red and blue flashes can be seen in the distance. They speed their way through the sleet and snow, heading right for the security firm.

If the three of them aren't packed up and out of there within two minutes, they’re screwed. A shootout at a window sounds like the type of thing he should be used to in his field of work; but in reality, that sort of thing is avoided whenever possible. Nobody is ever supposed to die during jobs like this, and Yoongi wants to keep potential casualties to a minimum, fatalities he wants to keep to zero. 

He quickly makes his way out of the room, following Namjoon down the stairs.

“Spoke too soon,” he quickly mutters by his side, laughing an ironic laugh with a roll of his eyes, like it's a minor convenience more than anything else.

“Police?”

“Yeah. Some alarm must’ve gone off somewhere, or something. Shit, this is why we need someone legit for the tech side of things.” He walks with Namjoon at a fast pace through a short corridor. “At least once we make it to the city, we can get someone on top of shit like that, huh?”

Namjoon just nods his head, and the two of them quickly make their way into the facility’s vault, the door wide open which leads into a room with notes stacked upon one another on tables and gold bars lined up neatly on crated shelves.

They’re leaving most of it behind, though. They’re not here to be greedy, they’re here to get money to set themselves up in Seoul. Well, at least Yoongi thought they weren’t here to be greedy. He sees Daehyun stashing as many wads of won notes into a large duffle bag as possible, with at least three more of them puddled at his feet, having pretty much taken over Namjoon’s job for him.

“Daehyun, you fucking dipshit,” Yoongi exclaims, gritting his teeth. “The police are about to pull up, grab your shit and let’s get out of here.”

“They’ll check on the hostages first.” Daehyun refutes. “We have time.”

Picking up two duffle bags, with Namjoon doing the same, Yoongi gets close and gestures with the gun strapped over his torso. “If that’s what you think, Daehyun, you take this fucking gun and let’s see just how much time you have.”

Daehyun frowns at Yoongi as he walks out of the vault with Namjoon, picking up his bags and quickly following behind them. 

The three of them quickly make their way down one of the many hallways and a flight of stairs into the basement of the facility, the basement from which they’d entered the building.

They rush past a man lying on the basement floor. He’s not dead, of course not - just unconscious.

Yoongi reserves his bullets for a select few, and an overworked stranger on a late shift isn’t one of those few. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all. He just happened to be the first to investigate the sound that was coming from the basement as the three of them made their way through the tiny window, what with it being the only entry and exit point that wouldn’t have them surrounded and outnumbered by the staff. 

Climbing out of the basement window with some struggle, especially with the filled duffle bags, they begin to run through the snow towards the road before they’re immediately met with flashes of both red and blue. 

It was bound to happen.

The way they had grown increasingly behind schedule meant that they didn’t have the chance to miss the police at this point. Every extra wad of cash Daehyun shoved into those damn duffle bags made them lose precious seconds. 

Upon seeing the police cars, Yoongi quickly throws his duffle bags over the back of the nearby truck, climbing and jumping on with enough strength to force himself into a roll and lands in the back of the truck, gently hitting the side of the vehicle as he does so, Namjoon following in the same fashion.

Lying down, he readies the weapon he has strapped around him, removing it from his body and over his shoulder before checking that he’s loaded with ammunition. He glances over at Namjoon who is doing the same. The two look at each other with a slight nod in agreement as the car starts, the tires skidding with a loud screech against the ice as they gain footing before they begin to speed down the country roads of Daesocheon, two police cars following behind them. No doubt there’ll be more joining the chase as they continue to move. 

Both Yoongi and Namjoon lay low in the back of the truck. They’re not just going to mindlessly shoot at a police car. There’s no use when the chase isn’t that serious yet, they’d just be wasting what little ammo they have. So, instead, they choose to sit back, letting Daehyun drive their getaway car and lead the chase out of Daesocheon.

“The stars are nice tonight,” Namjoon laughs as he shouts over the sound of sirens, looking up towards the sky. "Look."

It’s probably the least appropriate time to be stargazing, Yoongi will admit. Nevertheless, he copies Namjoon and looks up.

“They would be nice in a place like this. It’s dead.” Yoongi says back, looking towards him then. “One last job. We lose these fuckers and then we’re out of here, right?”

Namjoon turns his head towards Yoongi. He isn’t properly looking at him, his eyes more vague and trailing. He responds simply, “Yeah.”

"Damn it, I could do with a smoke." Yoongi huffs laughter, Namjoon imitates him and nods in agreement.

Suddenly, Daehyun turns off the road, with the truck now speeding down a hill and only missing trees by some inches. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Yoongi shouts to Daehyun in the driver’s seat.

“The highway is right ahead if we cut through here.” He yells back. “The cops won’t wanna make this little detour.”

Holding onto the side of the truck to avoid being thrown out of the vehicle thanks to Daehyun’s choice of route, Yoongi shouts. “Yeah, I don’t fuckin’ blame them.”

Namjoon looks nervous when Yoongi turns to keep an eye on him as they only just miss crashing over and over before breaking through the wooden barrier and manoeuvring onto the highway.

“You alright?” He asks his friend. 

Namjoon just nods, the two of them then look over the back of the truck as new sirens are heard, and more cop cars have joined the chase.

“Shit!” Namjoon hisses, double-checking that his gun by his torso is ready to shoot should it come to it. "This is it."

“Hey, listen to me, alright?” Yoongi then commands his attention, grabbing his forearm with his hand, and stilling him. “If this goes south - we ditch the money, we ditch everything. We go to Seoul with fuckin’ nothing but each other, alright? We just run together.”

Before Namjoon has the chance to respond, shots are fired. The first of the night. 

Yoongi does speak too soon.

“Shit!” He hisses. “What the hell? We’re not fucking aggressive, assholes.”

Again, another shot.

“What the fuck?” Daehyun yells, before picking up the speed even more, his control over the wheel not meaning so much at a speed like this.

Another shot, and then another.

This can’t keep happening, they can’t let themselves be shot at until either one of them takes a hit or they take down the entire vehicle.

So, Yoongi readies himself, before muttering. “I guess it’s time, then.”

It's not like they have much of a choice at this point. 

Yoongi readies his finger on the trigger, taking some deep breaths as if to ground himself; it's not often that there are seconds to breathe during times like this, so he takes his chance.

“Right,” Namjoon does the same, preparing his weapon.

The two of them steady themselves as much as they can in the back of the truck, ready to aim and fire as some more shots are fired in their direction. Yoongi manages to aim and shoot successfully at the front tire of one of the cars, making it struggle slightly and lose some speed during the chase. 

Sometimes, that’s enough to let them escape. Not tonight, though.

Namjoon shoots at the windshield, aiming at the empty passenger seat of one of the cars. The bullet cracks the glass, causing the car to come to a complete halt.

“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi praises him with a hand patting him on the shoulder. “That was perfect, Namjoon-ah.”

Both Yoongi and Namjoon avoid each shot fired in their direction. The younger of the two sits up higher than before and attempts to take a shot at the car’s tires but misses, making a frustrated grunting sound after he does. 

There’s only one car following them at a speed able to keep up with them at this point now. Noise comes from the car trailing them.

“Chief of police, stop your vehicle!” The speaker sounds. “I repeat, stop your vehicle!”

“You heard them, Daehyun-ssi,” Yoongi scoffs, speaking sarcastically. “We better stop," he laughs to himself, reloading his gun. "Fuckers should have stayed home with a movie."

Their car only speeds up in response to the radio, provoking another round of bullets against the car. 

Yoongi turns to his friend, who laughs with him. This was them. It always had been.

Nothing summed up Yoongi and Namjoon more than shared smiles as they're chased for their wrongdoings.

Namjoon smiles with Yoongi until he suddenly stops with the sound of a sudden bang.

Before Yoongi could even process what was happening, Namjoon’s body falls slack in front of him, requiring Yoongi’s full support to keep him upright. 

“Joon? J-Joon?” He turns to look at his friend who depends on him completely at that moment. “You’re okay, you’re okay. Hey, it’s okay.”

Namjoon is practically hugging him, with his head resting on Yoongi’s shoulder as he falls completely slack, unable to hold himself up.

Yoongi doesn't know what the fuck is happening, how it's happening.

All he knows is Namjoon needs to get to safety, and he won't get there in this damn getaway vehicle if Daehyun doesn't regain complete control.

“Stop driving so fucking crazy!” Yoongi yells over his shoulder towards Daehyun, trying his hardest to hold on to Namjoon. "You need to slow down! Namjoonie's been hit!"

“Oh yeah,” Daehyun shouts from the front of the truck. “Let me just get down to the fucking speed limit. Great idea!”

Struggling with his friend in his arms, he goes to sit against one of the bags filled with notes. Yoongi’s attention is far from it now, but the police car following them that had fired the shot comes to a halt for an unknown reason, maybe they had made a hit that was finally taking its toll on the officer behind the wheel.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Namjoon-ah. We’ll get you help, don’t worry.” He says with a strained voice, trying to lower and position Namjoon correctly. 

He hears Namjoon struggle, “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“Hey, no.” Yoongi almost laughs, it’s a laugh of complete shock. “Don’t you dare, alright? Don’t apologise to me.”

“But I am sorry.”

“Okay, okay. I hear you.”

“Do you forgive me?” 

“Of course I forgive you.” He kisses him on the side of the head as only a friend could. “Don’t worry, okay? I’ve got you, your hyung’s got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Hyung-” Namjoon coughs. “Take that money and go, okay? Fuck me and Daehyun. Take the money and go to Seoul.”

Holding him, Yoongi keeps them both out of the line of fire. He smiles, “If I'm gonna live the dream, I need you by my side. You’re coming with me.”

“I’m being serious, I'm telling you," Namjoon appears to struggle, really struggle. "I’m gonna die, hyung. I know I am.”

“You’re not,” he denies his friend. "Don't say shit like that to me, man. You're fine, I've got you." 

“Hyung, I am,” Namjoon says calmly, too calmly. "Listen to me - take the money and go to Seoul.”

“But-” Yoongi goes to speak, not knowing what he was even planning on saying to his closest friend.

He loses any words he could have said when the grip on his arm that Namjoon had previously suddenly isn't felt anymore. Namjoon isn't holding him back anymore. His eyes are now closed, and his body has fallen completely lifeless.

But he isn't dead. Namjoon can't be dead.

He's the smartest out of all of them, the quickest, the best with a gun too.

He's Yoongi's best friend, the two of them always found their way out of trouble.

No, there's just no way.

At this point, Yoongi doesn’t even know what he’s doing. They’ve lost the police and all he wants to do is get Namjoon to a hospital, get him anywhere that will take him and help him wake up, help him open his eyes again. 

Because he couldn’t be dead.

Not him. 

“Come on, Namjoon-ah.” Yoongi lifts him, his voice filled with denial. “Let’s get you up.”

Holding a hand to Namjoon’s heart, not even realising the fact that both of them are covered in his blood, Yoongi tries his hardest to keep his now motionless best friend sitting upright against the back of the truck. 

Suddenly, as if it was some kind of sick joke, the tailgate that holds Namjoon upright gives way, opening and allowing him to fall back. Luckily, Yoongi clutches onto him by his jacket, but only just, thanks to their difference in both strength and weight. 

And then, a turn so sharp off onto the road and into the surrounding forested area on bumpy, unpredictable terrain; one that has Yoongi’s grip on his best friend falter. 

Yoongi reaches out with hectic, desperate hands as Namjoon is thrown back, being forced out of the pickup truck and onto the ground. The older of the two only just manages to stay on the truck, his body having almost fallen the same way that Namjoon had, but unlike Namjoon, Yoongi was able to grab onto the side of the truck and steady himself. 

He then watches for just a second as Namjoon’s body becomes smaller in the distance as Daehyun drives at such a high speed before he becomes too far away to even make sense of.

“Namjoon-ah!” He shouts for him, before jumping over the bags of money and leaning towards the back of the driver's seat. “Have you lost your mind, Daehyun? We need to go back for him! There’s nobody on our tail!”

“Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? If we do that, we’ll end up just like him! You never know just how many blue fucks are on us.”

“Go the fuck back!” Yoongi screams into his ear, lunging himself forward and grabbing the wheel of the car with his hands, the two of them struggling for control of the vehicle. “Go back for him!”

“Get off the fuckin’ wheel, you dumb piece of shit!” Daehyun attempts to push him back over his shoulder, trying to regain control of the car.

Yoongi throws whatever hits and punches that he can in Daehyun’s direction. When he lands a hit to the side of Daehyun’s face, that’s when a gun is taken out and pointed in his direction from the driver's seat; with Daehyun not even looking at the terrain in front of them anymore.

“Shoot me then, you fucking prick!” Yoongi yells with the gun aimed between his eyes. 

He has lost his fucking mind. Shit, they both have.

Yoongi doesn’t even see what happens as the car crashes into a large tree dead on. He’s forced forward and back by the impact and thrown out of the vehicle entirely, slamming into the ground.

He’s pretty sure he hit his head, which strangely feels less painful than the fact that there is shrubbery digging in all over his body, thorny bushes having broken his fall, even if only slightly. He comes to properly after a moment of just lying back against the ground before hissing in pain as he lifts himself, standing to his feet and slowly walking some paces over to the truck with a slight limp. 

“Daehyun?” He coughs. “Daehyun, are you alive?”

He hears his partner groan in pain before he opens the driver’s seat door of the truck. He steps out with a bloodied nose and mouth, and unsteadiness to him.

“Holy fuck…” He murmurs, getting a look at the wreck that they had somehow survived with minimal injury.

“Hyung?” Daehyun groans, holding the bridge of his nose.

Yoongi pulls a thorn that has lodged into the flesh of his neck with a hiss of pain. “Joonie was left, Daehyun. We left him behind. We need to find him."

“We-" Daehyun chokes, before spitting blood on the snow beside him. “If we’d gone back for him, we wouldn’t have made it out alive. No use in looking for him now either."

“How are you gonna fuckin’ talk like that right now?” Yoongi shakes his head slowly, leaning both hands on his knees as he barely stands upright. “How the fuck are you, huh? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It’s the truth.” He struggles, clearing his throat. “You know it is.”

“The truth is that none of that needed to happen back there and you know it."

“What, you think he had a chance after taking a bullet? Don’t be fucking stupid. He was gone before he fell from the truck.”

“Hey,” Yoongi gets close. “I’ll tell you what’s fucking stupid, you prick; taking your time getting your greasy fucking fingers on as much as you can. That’s stupid. You knew we were on a schedule. Your ass should’ve sat in that ugly fuckin’ car the whole time. But no, you fuckin’ didn't.”

“I see an opportunity and I take it.”

“Yeah, how fucking inspiring.” He laughs, moving back and leaning over against his knees, looking at Daehyun with a look of total contempt. “You should write a book, man.”

“And hey, these greasy fucking fingers got us way more money than we’d planned. And what with Joonie gone…”

“What?" Yoongi questions him. 

“I mean,” He shrugs, looking at the truck where the money sits in both the passenger’s seat and back, with a couple of bags on the floor, having been thrown out thanks to the impact of the crash. “At least there’s a bigger split for the two of us now.”

Yoongi just stares right at him, his tone suddenly unsettlingly calm when he asks, “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” Daehyun confirms. “It’s shit, what happened back there. It’s fucking shit, hyung - but it happens. Shit like this happens in the world we live in.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi laughs out, looking up towards the sky as snow continues to fall. “I mean really, it's a blessing in disguise, right?"

“You know I don’t mean it like that.” 

Yoongi's eyes fall on him again. “Tell me how you meant it, then. Come on.”

Daehyun sighs, glancing down momentarily before he looks back up at Yoongi. “One of us was bound to go down at some point. Why not just be grateful that it wasn’t you?”

That what wasn’t Yoongi?

Namjoon isn't dead, is he?

He only took a single bullet.

He only bled through his clothes, Yoongi’s clothes, all over the both of them.

He only closed his eyes, he only let Yoongi go.

He's not gone, though. Not really.

But then, looking down at his blood-stained hands, Yoongi feels his world cave in when reality hits him, all at once. Sudden grief is unforgiving in the way it consumes him, it doesn’t spare him, not in the slightest.

Yoongi realises that Namjoon is gone.

His Namjoon.

Not bothering to answer Daehyun's question, he takes his gun and aims it directly at his partner, giving him no opportunity to do or say anything before a bullet is lodged in his forehead with the loud bang of the gun in such an open space, birds can be heard fleeing the area around him.

Blood splatters all over the snow where they both stand before Daehyun falls to the floor, dead.

Yoongi just inhales and exhales for some time, watching the white ground turn to a deep red shade. 

He doesn’t know how, but he gets a grip of himself and approaches the wrecked truck, the sound of crisp snow being disturbed by his footprints, a tiny mark of blood following him where he walked as he stepped by Daehyun’s body and the red pool that surrounded him.

He climbs on the back of the truck and takes what he can of the money, shoving some from one bag into another and then throwing the largest over his shoulder. Looking at the body of Daehyun one last time, he breathes in the bitter, winter air. He turns then, heading back down the tire-marked trail through the forest. 

Yoongi looks all over, following the stream of destruction through the wooded area caused by the speeding car. He looks around for Namjoon wherever he can, he moves bushes and scans over the area but he can’t see anything that leads him to his lifelong friend. Thanks to the density of the area, it's like Namjoon’s body has just disappeared altogether. 

He just wants to— 

Fuck, he doesn’t even know what he planned to do had he found Namjoon. Nothing would have helped, would have made things better or brought him back. 

But to let Namjoon go in the way that he did, in a high-speed chase where he couldn’t even properly say goodbye, where he could only forgive his friend for dying in his arms without even realising it - it feels almost cruel.

Not even shivering at this point, running completely on adrenaline alone, Yoongi then moves to the empty road and takes out his phone from his jacket pocket. 

“Hello, ambulance please?” He speaks on the line as the operator picks up, looking back to the broken fence and tire-marked ground he’d emerged from. “A car has crashed off the road, yeah, north of Daesocheon. Yeah, the highway road heading out, you can’t miss them, they broke through a barrier. There’s a wreck in the forest off the road. I think… I think somebody fell from the vehicle, close to the road. Please, find them. Stay? No… no. I can’t stay.”

He hangs up, ignoring the plea for information from the call operator.

Looking back at the road, where the car had driven through the barriers and into the forest, Yoongi speaks to nobody, to nothing but the open space of the deserted highway leading out of the humdrum town of Daesocheon.

“See you in Seoul,” He says before he simply stands with his eyes closed. The sun begins to rise, the new orange hue against Yoongi’s eyelids causing him to open them once more.

Only the sound of some forest birds can be heard in the forest where Namjoon’s dying body had been thrown from the getaway car. The clearness of the newfound day provides a surreal feeling to Yoongi as he just stands for a moment, beginning to walk only as he hears the ever-so-faint sounds of sirens.

Some weeks later.

Yoongi breathes out, steam emitting from his mouth as he does so. He lifts his cigarette to his mouth, taking a small puff before he’s forced to shiver and exhale. He watches the small, intimate ceremony from across the graveyard, not to be seen as he stands partially behind a tree, smoking a cigarette.

He can see Namjoon's family from where he stands, including his father. He looks vacant, only staring at the coffin that's before him, eyes concealed by sunglasses. Yoongi had never had a real conversation before. In fact, Yoongi can't think of a time he was ever truly face-to-face with the man, who always seemed too busy with work to mind anything his son and his friend got themselves into.

Yoongi and he have something in common, though - the loss of what must be the most important person in their lives.

He would approach, but he knows that he can't, so he stays put.

“Namjoon was a bright, young man; a man with so much ahead of him - higher education, a successful career. The circumstances in which he passed,” The priest performing the small funeral ceremony directs his words to the people surrounding Namjoon’s coffin. “I think we can all agree those circumstances weren’t those of the real Namjoon.” The small crowd hummed in agreement. “I think we all know that Namjoon was as respectable, as straight as a man could be. He lived an honest life, law-abiding life. He simply… was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Yoongi scoffs, and of course, nobody hears him from where he stands. He shakes his head in disagreement, looking down at the floor.

Namjoon was a criminal. He was an outsider, just like Yoongi was. He was living in the way that no parent wanted their child to live. He was a problem, as far as society was concerned - and Yoongi loved him dearly for it. 

And now he's gone. 

The coffin is lowered. Yoongi blinks slowly, subconsciously not wanting to see the very last of his best friend.

When people begin to move a spade full of earth on top of the lowered coffin, Yoongi throws his cigarette butt to the floor, instantly being put out by the snow beneath him. He turns away from the funeral in process, away from his best friend; out into the snow, where he would head to Seoul. 

Just like Namjoon had wanted. 

══════════════════

Ten years later.

The air conditioning in Yoongi’s therapist’s office isn’t enough to beat the city’s summer sun penetrating through the floor-length glass windows. 

He’s here again, like he’s here every week, talking about what happened that night, and all that came after it.

“Yoongi-ssi?”

Yoongi is snatched away from his last memory of his best friend, the memory that doesn’t seem too dull as time goes on, not even after a decade, by a therapist who sits across from him on a chair that matches the sofa he sits on perfectly. He’s the usual type, wearing a perfectly ironed baby blue shirt that contrasts well against the deep red walls of his office which of course show off all of his qualifications. It’s funny, he seems to know so much according to those framed certificates and yet Yoongi can confidently say he’s not applied a single fraction of that knowledge during the sessions they’ve been having for the past year or so. 

He lifts his head where he had been leaning back against the sofa, answering, “Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s about time we moved on?”

Yoongi frowns slightly. “Moved on?”

“Moved on from this issue. I know what happened to your friend, you’ve told me many times what happened to him.”

“Why? Am I boring you?”

“Not at all,” his therapist shakes his head slowly, with a particularly vexing smile appearing on his face. The condescending fuck. “However, I was thinking we could maybe move on from the topic, that we could talk about coping mechanisms, healing. Surely you don't want to keep replaying what happened in your mind over and over again.”

Strangely, Yoongi doesn’t agree. 

Replaying the memory of Namjoon over and over again is the only place he sees him. When he tries to think of something better— a happier memory with his friend— his mind always goes back to the same cold night when he lost him. 

The memory of Namjoon’s death is all he has left of him. 

“So, let’s talk about something a little more positive, hm? You said you were planning on quitting smoking. How is that going?” 

“Great.” He deadpans.

“You’ve managed to stay off the cigarettes?” The therapist asks. 

"Mhm."

"What about cigars?"

"Haven't smoked one in years."

"So no nicotine at all, then?"

Well, kind of. Yoongi had ditched the cigarettes and cigars, smoking only marijuana with the tiniest bit of tobacco rolled into each joint. Whatever, it gives him something to talk about with his therapist, giving the sorry fuck the idea that he’s helping Yoongi in any way. 

“That's right.”

“Well, that’s wonderful!” He responds and he's too damn chirpy. “I’d say you’re making great progress in terms of wellness.”

“How nice of you to say.”

“Mhm.” He nods before his eyes focus towards his left, Yoongi's right. “By the way, I’d suggest looking into tattoo removal.”

“Tattoo removal?”

“The letters by your ear. You want the world to see you’ve improved, don’t you? That you’ve taken control, and turned your life around. People may get the wrong impression of you from that tattoo."

Yoongi brings his right hand to his ear, running his fingers over the tattoo. “It's his name, though. NJ.”

The therapist nods, a look of fake understanding on his face. “Let’s look into it, yes? Just to possibly consider.”

Yoongi just stares, unable to pretend to agree with him like he often does for the sake of feeling like he’s not wasting his money.

"Our time is up, Yoongi-ssi." The therapist smiles. “Well, I’d say that makes a great session for this week.” He places his pen in his pocket and his clipboard to one side, before standing to his feet and inviting Yoongi to do the same. “How do you feel?”

“Oh, great,” Yoongi says with a notably ironic tone of voice, not that the therapist picks up on it as he walks to the door to open it for Yoongi. “Just great.”

“That’s fantastic. But here, in case you struggle between now and our session next week,” The therapist walks over to a pile of identical books on his desk, before returning and handing one over to Yoongi. “I want you to have this.”

Hesitantly taking what is being offered to him, Yoongi asks, “What is it?”

“My new book!” He answers gleefully. 

Yoongi turns it over, squinting slightly to read the cover. “Mindfulness, Mitigation and Medical Marijuana?”

“That’s right, it’s my newest work.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly at the chosen cover art. “Is that you? Are you- are you oiled up in that photo?”

“Gotta make the muscles look good for those yoga poses, right?” He chuckles with possibly the most vexing look on his face, which is only made worse by him then subtly flexing his arm. 

“Right…” Yoongi’s upper lip curls into an almost undetectable grimace. “Is that it?”

“Ah, no. Of course not.” The therapist then takes the book back from Yoongi and pulls out the pen that sits in the front pocket of his shirt. He clicks it, before opening the blank first page of the book and signing it with his autograph. “There you go.”

Oh god, he could punch him right here, right now. He could do it and run. Better yet, he could smack him across the jaw with his book. 

Somehow, he finds whatever strength he has to hold back. He purses his lips tightly and nods his head towards his therapist. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome. Next week, alright?”

Yoongi says nothing more, stepping out of the therapist’s office and into the elevator, heading down into the lobby of the modern office building in central Seoul. He hangs around on the steps outside for some time, as he often does, and brings a joint to his mouth. He takes a lighter from his pocket and begins to smoke. 

Holding the joint in his mouth for just a moment, he opens the book given to him by his therapist on a random page, to be met with more questionable posed photographs of the guy. 

Yoongi grimaces, murmuring to himself. “Weird fuckin’ prick.”

He smokes his joint while reading for some time. Then, a voice can be heard by his side, one that startles him slightly. 

“Excuse me sir, but do you have a moment to talk about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ?” Yoongi turns towards the direction of the voice, he’s now looking at a rather dishevelled looking middle-aged man. Soon enough, his expression relaxes and he instead says, “I’m just kidding. You got any money?”

“Uh, nope. At least not on me. I have a rule to only trade with cash at night."

He huffs. “None of you mother fuckers carry money anymore.” 

“I can only apologise. You want this instead?” Yoongi holds out the book.

“What is it?”

“A book by my therapist.” Then, he turns around the book to show the page and chapter title directly to the man. “Look, this chapter is on coffee enemas. Really helpful and interesting stuff.”

“The fuck is a coffee enema?”

“Well, by the looks of this diagram…” Yoongi squints his eyes at the page as he turns the book towards himself once more. “You inject coffee into your colon via your ass hole. It's supposed to be good for wellness, or maybe it's mindfulness. Some dumb fucking word like that."

“No, what the hell?” The man laughs, albeit looking disgusted. “I don't want that shit.”

Yoongi laughs, he doesn’t blame him. “Then I don’t have anything else on me right now.”

“Not even weed?”

“What makes you think I smoke weed?”

“You stand outside this building at the same time on the same day every week getting your ass stoned. Your ass is stoned right now.”

“Ah, you’re observant.” Yoongi smiles and then pats himself down. From his jacket pocket, he brings out a small bag. “You’ll be lucky if you can roll a junior-sized joint with that, but enjoy.” He hands over the baggie before he tries to do the same with the signed book. He asks, “And you’re sure you don’t want this?”

“Fuck no. The guy seems like a freak. Have a good day, man.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yoongi mumbles, beginning to walk down the street. 

“Hey,” He shouts to Yoongi. “Don’t be so down. The world is yours.”

Yoongi just huffs, smiling faintly before he turns and walks down the street.

When he reaches the closest trash bin, he throws the book inside. That’s two good deeds he’s done today - saving a homeless man from the boredom of sobriety, and the rest of the world from that abomination of a book.

Well, he might as well head home. It’s not like he has anywhere better to be on a Wednesday afternoon like this. 

He begins to make his way home, walking his regular route back to his apartment. Normally he’d drive, but there’s something about spilling his guts for forty-five minutes that has Yoongi feeling the need for some real fresh air. Or it might just be the weed.

Loud, quick footsteps of multiple people can be heard running somewhat close by. Yoongi looks around, spotting some kids— no older than eighteen— being suddenly tackled to the floor by multiple men in blue. Yoongi stops, watching as the police hold the kids down with notable force, despite the two of them not even struggling.

“Stop resisting!” Yoongi hears the officer yell at one of the boys. 

The kid speaks in response, notably calmer,  “I’m telling you, we haven’t done anything! I’ll cooperate, but we’ve not done anything wrong!”

“Didn’t your mother tell you that when the police tell you to do something, you fucking do it?” The officer grits. “Stop resisting!”

Another officer soon catches up to both of them and forcefully grabs both hands of the detainee, bringing them to his back with his face pressed against the cement of the pavement. 

Some would consider it odd that Yoongi can’t help but smile slightly at the sight of two younger men being reprimanded by the police. He doesn’t think the kids deserve it, probably not, and especially not in the rough way they’re being handled.

It just reminds him of being younger, of being a teenager. That would’ve been him and Namjoon all those years ago, that was if they ever got caught - which they never did.

They were too good for that, even back then when they were barely eighteen years old.

They were the best.

══════════════════

While having a reasonably but still very functionally stoned nap in the afternoon, Yoongi wakes from a nightmare with a jolt of his body. 

It’s familiar, all too familiar. 

Yoongi always seems to have nightmares on his therapy days. He talks about Namjoon, he tries to forget Namjoon, and then he sees Namjoon in his sleep.

Yoongi swears he only shuts his eyes for a second, to open them suddenly at the sound of his phone ringing. He comes to quickly, but only just and accepts the call.

“Hey, cutie pie.” He's immediately greeted by a familiar, jovial voice.

“Mhh, hey Hobi-yah.” He mumbles.

“Not only just waking up, are you?”

“You caught me mid-nap.” 

“Well come on, rise and shine. I’ve got a job for you, one you might be interested in for once.”

Lying back with one hand above his head, the other holding his phone to his ear, Yoongi says after a stretch, “Hit me.”

“Moving gig. Well, a fake moving gig of course. There’s a couple in the Gangnam district who have recently separated. To put it simply; one dude wants another dude’s shit out of his apartment, but they’re so damn rich that there’s no way it’d be smart to remove that shit on their own. One-half of the ex-couple needs trusted professionals who can remove his assets discreetly and carefully. That’s where you come in.”

He stretches, lying back in bed. “Go on.”

“Well, you’re going to steal those assets.” Hoseok laughs. 

“Ah.” Yoongi chuckles too. “Who are the guys, then? Anyone worth knowing?”

“Just a pair of businessmen. Kim something and Hwang something; not well known, just rich. Too rich.”

“My favourite.” Yoongi then yawns. “I’ll go visit our favourite arms dealer and see what he can do for me. I’ll probably need Jungkookie and Jin-hyung on the job too.”

“Mhm, make your orders and get your shit together for next week, alright?”

“Yeah, alright. How did you find out about this one then, by the way?”

Hoseok just smirks, Yoongi can’t see it but he knows Hoseok incredibly well. Silence means smirking.

The younger of the two then asks, “Why do you think the two of them are separating?”

“You’re dating the guy you’ve just told me to rob?” Yoongi laughs in disbelief. “Hobi-yah, that makes you the other woman .”

“Eh, not for long. He’s way too controlling. I can see why he’s getting chucked. I’ll be breaking up with him… well, next week.”

"God damn it," he laughs.

"What is it?"

"Just when I thought I was out, you pull me back in, hm?"

"You've never thought that though, have you, hyung?"

Yoongi chuckles to himself. "Alright, I'm in, I guess."

Hoseok chuckles along with him. “I’ll send over the address and stuff so you and Jin-hyung can work everything out.”

“Great. Speak later.”

“Later, hyung.”

══════════════════

Yoongi decides to get coffee on the way to visit a friend of his, a friend of about a decade or so. There is only one man to go to when you have a job, any kind of job that requires any kind of gear, and that man is Kim Taehyung.

The two of them had met almost a decade ago— when he was only nineteen, Taehyung even younger— during a drug deal gone wrong. Yoongi wasn’t the dealer, that has never really been his thing - but both he and Taehyung found themselves in need of a little assistance when picking up for personal use. The dealer had become strung out on something like meth, or maybe bath salts. Luckily, the assistance came in the handgun that Taehyung kept stuffed in his pants, which he promptly aimed in the direction of the dealer once he expressed his desire to feast on both their flesh.

It’s funny, the things that can bring people together.

They’ve been good friends ever since, and Taehyung is always Yoongi's number one choice when it comes to getting his hands on anything he needs to carry out his jobs.

His house is traditional and unsuspecting, and very much on the outskirts of the city. Any passers-by would think it’s owned by an old retired couple or something like that. But no, it belongs to one of the best arms dealers in Seoul; fuck that, in the whole of South Korea - at least as off-the-grid arms dealers go.

Some who are scared of getting their shit fucked up by him would call him unconventional, whimsical even. Yoongi isn't scared of him, however, so he just calls him nuts. He’s not so much unhinged by any means, but Yoongi has seen both his arsenal and his abilities, and all he will say is that he’s very glad to be a good friend of Kim Taehyung.

It pays to be a friend of his, you see.

And to be an enemy? Well, that pays too, only you’re the one handing your shit over.

Yoongi has a key to his place, and he’s pretty sure that he’s one of the very few people that do. 

He places the key in the bolt and turns it, unlocking the door to Taehyung’s house. Upon opening the door, he hears the most awful noise. Drilling, or something equally as headache-inducing.

He can’t even guess what the kid is doing. He probably shouldn't even try to, to be honest.

Yoongi makes his way through the hanging beads which act as some kind of door, passing through into the kitchen where the source of the noise is coming from.

There his young friend Taehyung stands on a footstool, reaching over towards overgrown hanging plants that are attached to his kitchen ceiling. He’s not wearing goggles, gloves or anything, and he’s reaching over in a way that could easily knock him off balance. 

Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief and laughs to himself before he shouts over the noise, the volume only intended for Taehyung to hear him even the slightest bit. “Of course, you’re wielding a chainsaw. Of course, you are. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Taehyung pulls away from the hanging plants and turns off the chainsaw. “Oh, hey hyung - long time no see. What did you say?”

“I said of course you’re wielding a chainsaw. What the fuck are you even doing, Taehyung-ah?”

Like the answer is more than obvious, Taehyung mockingly shakes his head as he pouts and asks, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m pruning my plants.”

“With a chainsaw.”

“Yeah, I can do multiple plants at once. Time saver. I’m a busy man.” He then steps down from the stool he had been standing on, placing the chainsaw on the sofa nearby. Somehow, that doesn’t seem safe. “And what can I do for my favourite hyung?”

“Well, I’ve got a job.”

“Oh yeah?"

“Yeah, and I need some gear for it. It’s a fake removal service gig.”

“Classic.” Taehyung chuckles, sitting down on the sofa.

“Mhm.” Yoongi mumbles, perching by his side. He slumps back against the cushion of the sofa, noticing how intently Taehyung is looking at him.

“Are you okay?” His younger friend asks. “You seem low.”

“Oh, yeah. I had therapy. I tend to be like this for a little while after."

“Today, right? Do you go on Wednesdays? How did that go?” Taehyung asks, waiting for Yoongi’s response eagerly.

He’s a good friend. A really good friend, to be honest.

“Same old, same old.” Yoongi shrugs. “They ask me bullshit questions, I give them bullshit answers.”

“You pay to go, though? Why don’t you just stop if it doesn’t help you?”

“It’s not that it doesn’t help me. They just… want me to get over something which I don’t think is possible to get over.”

Taehyung scrunches his lips to one side, looking sympathetic. “Your friend Namjoon-ssi?”

Yoongi sighs. “Yeah. Him."

“You’ve struggled for a long time, hyung. As long as I’ve known you.”

Yoongi nods. “I’ve only been mourning for a decade, like it happened yesterday. I have no idea how or why I can’t just-“ In an attempt to avoid getting worked up, Yoongi chooses to push the growing lump in his throat down with a sudden change of expression, one more light-hearted. He scoffs, “God, you’d think it was the first shitty thing to happen to anybody.”

“It’s okay, hyung.”

Yoongi exhales in laughter. “Yeah? Seriously, you must be fuckin’ sick of me, Taehyung-ah.”

“No, no - never. A friend of mine has been through something similar. I understand, or at least I try to understand. Don’t feel like you can’t talk to me about it, about anything.”

Yoongi pauses before he smiles fondly and pats Taehyung’s thigh with his hand. “You’re a sweet kid, you know that?”

Taehyung’s expression matches his, only with an air of sympathy. Taehyung goes to speak, but then the sound of an actual, real wooden door opening interrupts him.

“Taehyung-ah…” A tired voice comes from the doorway leading into his bedroom.

It’s a man, standing around Yoongi’s height while wearing what appears to be a duvet wrapped around him. He’s rubbing his tired, puffy eyes and has a messy head of black hair. He's interesting-looking, that's for sure. Sharp and soft is what Yoongi makes of him as he whines Taehyung's name.

“What’s up?”

He frowns a little. “I thought chainsaws were for weekends only.”

“Oh," Taehyung's eyes widen. "I woke you up?”

Yoongi instead answers on the stranger’s behalf with a sardonic tone. “No shit, you woke him up. Look at him."

“Fuck,” Taehyung says with suddenly wider eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m stoned as hell, I didn’t even think of what day it is.”

Stoned and wielding a chainsaw. It’s almost commendable.

Pouting, the man nods his head with his eyes almost closed. “It’s okay. I’m gonna go back to bed.”

“Yeah, you do that. I’ll be quiet.” Taehyung grants him a warm and familiar— if not slightly high— smile. 

Yoongi looks at the kid, who appears even younger than Taehyung. He has big, hooded eyes that turn into crescent moon shapes when he smiles back at him. 

Yoongi continues to look at him, but he doesn’t look back. 

The bedroom door soon closes, and Taehyung's friend disappears back into his bedroom, and it’s just the two of them once again.

Yoongi asks. “Who was that elfy-looking one, then?”

“Elfy?” Taehyung chuckles before he turns back towards the door his friend had appeared from. “That was Jiminie. A friend of mine.”

“Oh, a friend of yours?” Yoongi smirks. 

“Yes, a friend of mine.”

“As in… a friend? Or, like a friend ?”

“F-R-I-E-N-D.” Taehyung spells out the word. “Friend.”

“Ah,” Yoongi understands then. “Your spelling is good, Taehyung-ssi.” 

“Like your comprehension.” Taehyung retorts. They both laugh together before the younger of the two grabs a pen and paper from the coffee table in front of them and asks, “So, this job of yours - what exactly do you need for it?”

Yoongi looks up like he’s thinking to himself as he begins to count on his fingers. “Two guns, two backups, and the ammunition needed of course. Uh, a truck, like a real moving truck. It needs the signs and all that shit. It needs to look legit like we do, which is why we also need the uniforms and fake IDs.”

Taehyung writes everything down and turns his head. He giggles. “Not much, then?”

“You know how people are. You need a whole background check for shit like this these days.”

“Mhm,” Taehyung agrees. “And when do you need all of it?”

Yoongi sits notably smaller. He purses his lips before grinning sweetly as if he has to. “Say… next week?”

“Next week? How about next month? How does that sound?”

“Come on, Taehyung-ah.” Yoongi whines. “I’ll pay you double.”

“You’ll pay me to double? Wow .” Taehyung says sarcastically. “Double the price I’ve not even named yet. That’s a lot.”

“Yes! These people, man… You could scavenge their fucking trash cans and come out a rich man.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds so tempting. How do I get in on this dumpster diving endeavour?”

“Hush up.” He rolls his eyes. “Can you help me or not?”

Taehyung lets his head fall back slightly, like the amount of work he’s about to be in for is weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“Fine.” He elongates his answer with a groan. “I’ll help you, but only because I like you.”

“Your favourite hyung, right?” Yoongi grins as he stands up, Taehyung following. “You’re the best I know, I swear.”

“Yeah, yeah. Wait until I’ve named the price before you say that.”

“We’ll figure it out, don’t worry about it. It’ll be worth the effort.” Yoongi tells him as he begins to make his way towards the doorway with hanging beads.

“Well, you sound excited about a job for once, so I’m hoping so.”

“Me? Excited?”

“Yeah. It suits you.” Taehyung affirms as he takes a step onto the stool by the plants, chainsaw in hand once again.

“Nah, it doesn’t. It’s just the first job in months, which doesn’t sound like a total fucking headache.”

“You need to-” Taehyung struggles to start the chainsaw, but he gets it eventually. He shouts then. “You need to get into a better line of work if most of it gives you a headache.” 

“Oh yeah?” Yoongi shouts, laughing. “Like arms dealing, you mean?”

Taehyung humorously puckers his lips, nodding his head. “I mean… yeah. Or maybe something that makes you happy.”

“Happy?” Yoongi scoffs. “Who has ever been happy while earning money?”

Taehyung shrugs, chainsaw in hand. “I mean, I’m pretty happy.”

“Nah, kid. You’re just stoned.” The two of them laugh as Yoongi goes to leave, but he soon turns back. “Also, Taehyung-ah-“

Before he even has the chance to say what he had intended to, his friend Jimin appears once again and simply moans, “Weekends, Tete.”

Yoongi bows his head, laughing at just how much Taehyung lacks in short-term memory when he smokes during the day like this. The kid doesn’t even hear him, continuing with his pruning as if nobody had spoken to him at all.

So, Yoongi addresses Jimin. “You might wanna make your order, put some soundproof headphones on the list.”

His friend doesn’t respond with words— probably not wanting to shout over the noise in his half-asleep state— he only pouts and slowly shuts his eyes before he heads back into Taehyung’s bedroom. 

Oblivious, Taehyung simply waves at Yoongi as he heads through the beaded doorways. Looking back, Yoongi mouths the word weekend before Taehyung quickly bares his teeth with a guilty look at him and turns off the machinery.

The two of them share one last smile as Yoongi heads out.

══════════════════

The weekday evenings tend to be slow. Yoongi has found that there’s not much to do when you’re only a semi-successful criminal; by-the-book establishments will throw you out, and anywhere else that doesn’t is probably too seedy to hang out in in the first place, especially when alone - which Yoongi often likes to be.

So, he— like he does most nights— has opted for an alternative way to pass the time. His car is parked on an off-street, one nobody ever walks past or parks up at, and with good reason. 

About an hour earlier, he had picked up a guy from the southern end of the city. He seemed nice, and said he was trying to earn extra money while he was studying - Yoongi can respect that. Summer nights like this mean that there isn’t much harm in the guys leaning by his car window for some time, sparking conversation with one another.

Yoongi won’t take just anyone, you see. There are way too many guys wandering the streets out of their minds on different substances, or guys who can’t even hide the fact that they don’t want to be working on the streets, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting them in his car. No, they have to be content, coherent and able to hold a real conversation with him before he opens his car door to them.

This guy is relatively handsome, he seems quite witty too. Sarcastic, even. Some may be turned off by back chat but Yoongi doesn’t mind anything like that, so he was picked up and driven to a spot where the two of them wouldn’t be seen. 

Yoongi prefers sex this way. Not only is it quick, but it’s also easy. There are no strings attached, the momentary physical intimacy is nothing but transactional. The truth of the matter is that he’s not slept with a person he properly knows in years, and he likes it that way.

Yoongi finds himself buried into the neck of the guy after a session in the backseat of his car. 

“That was fun.” The guy mutters in a monotonous voice, with Yoongi still breathing heavily against his skin.

Hearing that, Yoongi lifts his head and looks at him, only to chuckle lightly before pulling himself away, sitting up straight in the backseat of his car. “You’re funny," he responds, zipping up his jeans. 

“I am?”

“Yeah, you are. Come on then, how much do I owe you?”

“80,000.” The sex worker immediately says, straightening himself up, soon looking as if he’d never had sex at all.

Yoongi grabs the cash from his wallet situated in his jacket pocket. He hands over the notes, and then some. “Call it 100,000, because you made me laugh.”

“Oh,” he seems surprised. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Yoongi climbs from the back seat to the driver, looking behind him before asking, “Do you need a ride anywhere?”

The sex worker looks at him a little funny with a slight grimace like he’s not used to that sort of question from his clientele. “Uh, how about the street you picked me up from?”

“Sure.” Then, Yoongi has an idea, an idea that doesn’t sound too bad right now. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” He asks, climbing over into the passenger’s seat.

“What do you say that I pay you another 100,000 to sleep with me? Like, at my apartment in my bed?”

The sex worker looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Do you mean fucking in your bed?”

“No, I don’t mean fucking. I mean quite literally just sleeping.”

“That’s it?" He seems surprised. "You’d pay me 100,000 for that?”

“Yeah. No weird shit.”

“Paying someone to sleep next to you is weird shit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi asks, “Do we have a deal, yes or no?”

“Sure, I guess.” The sex worker shrugs. “I mean, it’s easier than sex. Probably better, too.”

After a moment of shaking his head with a smile at the response, Yoongi asks, “Are you like this with all of your clients?”

“No. You tipped me for making you laugh. I’m trying to make you laugh again.”

“I’m never laughing again, then.” 

"Sounds good."

Damn it, a smile creeps through.

“How about food when we’re back? No cheap shit, something nice I can get delivered to my place.”

Another nonchalant shrug. “Kay.”

Yoongi starts the car, reversing down the quiet alleyway and turning into the road, headed towards Yoongi’s apartment. 

As the two of them drive through the congested streets, being stopped at maybe their fifth red light so far, he turns and asks, “This is turning out to be a fun night out, huh?”

“You must be one lonely mother fucker if you think this is fun.” He scoffs.

“Is this you trying to make me laugh again? Because it’s not working.”

“No. You are one lonely mother fucker.”

Yoongi doesn’t object. 

══════════════════

Yoongi and the sex worker order Japanese food as soon as they arrive back at his apartment. Yoongi ordered him whatever he wanted, it ended up being some curry-style dish while Yoongi settled on ochazuke for himself. Immediately after finishing the dish, Yoongi walks to his bedroom and the man follows him. As usual, his bedroom is dark except for the visual of artificial flames from his fireplace that allow a reddish-orange hue to gently illuminate one side of the room. The sex worker seems disappointed when Yoongi immediately lowers the blinds of the floor-length windows. It's not like there's any considerable amount of light coming from the city lights, but Yoongi prefers the space to be dark. Seoul's lights bother him more than they do anything else for him.

Like sex, sleep is no different tonight than it is almost every night. Before he drifts off, Yoongi tosses and turns, never feeling truly comfortable. He tries spooning with the guy, tries sleeping across his torso and vice versa, but nothing feels right. He ends up falling asleep on the opposite side of the bed, their bodies touching in no way. He’s thankful to begin to drift finally, but he wouldn’t be if he knew what was waiting for him after he did.

And the thing is, he really should’ve known.

As he often does on days like this, he sees Namjoon again.

Only like this, he sees the bullet puncturing his friend through the chest, taking him from him in what felt like no time at all. He sees him fall from Yoongi’s grip and out of the truck, over and over again, to be left behind in the snow. He sees the funeral service, the way he turned before the coffin had even lowered into the ground. He hears the goodbyes he never got to say.

All of it. All at once.

“Shit!” He wakes suddenly, to the horrified face of the sex worker. He breathes heavily, almost hyperventilating. “Shit, I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“What’s the matter with you?” 

“Just- just a bad dream, just… yeah.” His voice shakes. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

With an irked look on his face, he answers, “It’s fine.”

The two of them settle down again soon enough. Well, at least Yoongi appears like he’s settled. He lies back, looking up at the ceiling of his apartment, it being all too familiar thanks to the nights he’s found himself sleepless in this apartment; and the apartment before, and the apartment before that.

Nothing ever really changes. No matter how much he earns, how far he manages to go and how high he manages to reach. 

Nothing changes. 

The sex worker is gone by the time he wakes up. Yoongi isn’t surprised, to be honest, and he’s unsure of what he’d even expect of them had they been there when he woke up.

Yoongi climbs out of bed, rubbing his eyes as his feet touch the cold and glossy wooden floors of his apartment bedroom. He immediately makes his way into his perfectly modelled kitchen, leaning against the counter as he turns on the coffee machine. 

And for fuck sake, he has nothing to brew. He checks all of the cupboards, but most of them are pretty much empty. 

With a frown and pout, he makes his way back into his bedroom and throws himself in bed. 

If he can’t have his morning coffee, there’s only one thing that can substitute. 

There’s a rather sad-looking joint that Yoongi had rolled up after a party in a completely incoherent state the weekend before. It's a little bent, skinny and rather sad-looking, but he could only do so much after a night like that. He didn't even get to smoke the thing before he passed out on his bed.

He checks on top of his bedside drawer and rummages inside, just in case there are some forgotten bags he can roll with instead, but there’s nothing. Until he goes and picks up, this is the best he’s got. He groans a frustrated groan to himself, throwing his head back on his pillow and placing the joint in his mouth, before grabbing a lighter from his side.

The curtains and shutters of his bedroom remain closed that morning, just like they did the night before - there’s no real appeal in having them open as he lies back in bed and smokes the last of his weed. He inhales, holding the smoke for some time until he exhales with a heavy sigh. Smoking alone and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, in the apartment that he pays so much for only to spend his time like this, Yoongi is sure of one thing -

He really does hate Seoul.