Chapter Text
The thing about being the eldest was the fact that, well, Seokjin always had to be the one to keep his family in check. He was the one responsible for them, especially the younger two, but that didn't mean that he was the best role model.
He knew, when he was cracking his fists against other’s faces, that this wasn't something he should do. He knew, when he was handcuffed, that he shouldn't encourage the hoard of aggression his family responded with.
Seokjin had never asked for this life -- it was given to him.
When his own family, his blood family, had passed away in a car accident, the last thing he'd thought would happen was to find a family in a group of kids just as lost and lonesome as himself, but he did.
And he'd vowed to take care of them. To make sure that they never had to feel the pain he felt, but there were some things even the eldest couldn't protect them from.
Seokjin couldn't protect them from their families, he couldn't do much about the bruises and bloody lips Jimin had when he came back from his home. He couldn't stop Taehyung from running off to get into fights. He couldn't stop Hoseok from taking a dollar, or ten, from sweet old ladies.
The only thing Seokjin could do was make sure they had a place to stay, always. The best thing he could do was provide them shelter from the stigma and help them build up walls and never shy away from the disgust people saw when they looked at them—
A group of ragtag boys. Boys with greased back hair. Dirtied white tees. And black leather jackets worn for too many seasons to count, some of them had long lost their color and structure, but Namjoon always told them that no clothes were bad clothes until they had holes.
They were Greasers. Those from the East Side.
Most people from their part of town were considered scum. Delinquents. Greasers.
They weren't at all like those from the West Side where the sun always seemed to be shining, gleaming off of their shiny cars and jewelry. Where the houses were two stories tall and they had housekeepers and cleaners and many people to take care of their yards.
On the East Side, they were lucky to go a week without the power shutting off. They were having a fine day when nothing leaked. The East side, where there was no such thing as too old or too dirty. They wore the same clothes for days and ate food that sat out of the fridge.
Greasers were tough like that. They didn't let small things worry them. The only thing that truly bothered them were Socials, Socs, the stuck up people from the West Side.
See, there were only two boxes that people in their town could be shoved into and if you weren't a Social, you were a Greaser.
Nobody wanted to be a Greaser.
But being a Greaser wasn't all bad. Sometimes it was fun, most of the time it was fun.
“It's the second school you've been kicked out of! Don't waste an opportunity we're paying for you to have, Jimin!”
Other times, it wasn't fun at all.
Jimin growled under his breath, shoving Hoseok off his arm when the elder shoved him playfully. The younger crossed his arms and stalked behind everyone else.
Every Saturday they snuck into the drive in and settled on the benches and chairs in the sitting area. The fence behind the drive-in was broken and allowed room for anyone to squeeze through; many Greasers did it, not just their group.
Seokjin hated it when they did that. He said Yoongi was a bad influence on them, and he was, sometimes.
It was hard to have a good influence around them, though, when the expectations for people like them were so low. Even if they did good, people treated them like trash.
“I don't even want to go-”
“Shut the hell up, Chim!”
Immediately, Yoongi was spinning around, a sucker tucked into his cheek as he narrowed eyes on the other boy. “I'm not working my ass off for you to turn out like me. Shut up and do your fucking work. Quit fighting.”
Jimin sighed, running fingers over his swollen, busted lip before he reluctantly moved to climb under the metal fence when Hoseok held it up. He grumbled, “There's a stick up your ass, hyung.”
Yoongi ignored that, which was good, because they all knew he was the best fighter out of them all. Luckily, he wasn't as hot headed as Jimin was. Although he did wish Namjoon and Seokjin could have been here to talk some sense into the nineteen year old.
To say they'd been disappointed to hear that Jimin had to be sent to another school to complete his general education was an issue, but when Taehyung had poured glue on his own teacher’s desk just to be kicked out, too, was enraging.
It wasn't unexpected, though. The duo did absolutely nothing without the other. So if Jimin was kicked out of his second high school that year, Taehyung would be too. It was the reason they were being held back, too, neither of them showed for final exams last year and they kept skipping their school counseling meetings to smoke beneath the bleachers.
They'd been doing better this year, mostly because Hoseok had yelled at them, and he normally wasn't a yeller, and plucked some sensitive strings in the boys when he found out they were being held back; they'd agreed to try harder this year than the previous one.
“To be fair,” Taehyung began, shrugging off his jacket and then crawling beneath the fence. The boy straightened up, fixing his hair with a flat palm pressing the strands down. “Those Soc’s came at Chim. He didn't say shit. They came at him, we aren't pussies that run away from a fight, our hyungs taught us that.”
They had. Yoongi couldn't deny that. It wasn't in them to run from a fight and the truth was, many Socials did come looking for fights. Usually when they were drunk, they drove into the neighborhood just looking for a Greaser to beat up for fun.
It happened more often when they were kids, because now that they were all grown and experienced they were harder to subdue, but it still did happen.
There was so much fun that Socials had. Dropping out of school to do drugs all day, but never having to worry about the future because they were rich already. Getting drunk day in and day out because they had the money to do so.
They didn't really have to work in their life, meanwhile there were people like Seokjin and Yoongi who gave up their own education to make money and make sure everyone had the things they needed.
And, honestly, they were Greasers who had more than others did. Seokjin's door was always unlocked for them. He made sure they always had a place to sleep, which was more than what other Greasers had. Their hyungs paid for everything from cigarettes to school books. And if they didn't buy it, they took them for the boys. (It was hard to be an honest customer as a poor Greaser.)
“Alright, kid,” Hoseok sighed, arm tossing around Taehyung's shoulder, tugging him, “Stop arguing, it's movie night. I'll give you a quarter if you wanna get some popcorn.”
Yoongi sent him an unamused look and rolled his eyes, grabbing Taehyung's coat off the ground and shaking the old leather out as he walked behind them.
After a moment, Jimin reached over to nudge his arm, saying not a word. Yoongi accepted it as an apology and nudged him back. The younger smiled as best he could with his split lip, Yoongi softened up and threw an arm around him as they approached the seated area.
Socs didn't go to this theater. It was on the rough end of town, their side of town. There was always a fight here and one time a girl got tangled in it and got shot. Needless to say, it was very easy to tell who belonged and who didn't.
Their kind of people were tough. Even the girls dressed tough. Sometimes Namjoon wondered aloud what it would be like to hang around people who weren't like them. Ones who wore bright colors and looked like they smelled of cotton and detergents — Yoongi always sent him the nastiest look and it shut him up rather fast.
There was a group of people who didn't seem to belong here tonight.
There was a girl with bright, cherry red hair. She was the first in the row and the brightness of her hair seemed unnatural, but anyone could tell it was real, purely because, well, she was a Soc. They wouldn't ever use something as cheap and tasteless as box dye. No. She was a really sharp girl. Dressed nice with a dress so long it covered all her skin and she radiated superiority.
“Cherry,” Taehyung mumbled as he sank down beside Hoseok, leaning back into his seat, whispering, “I remember her. She's in my classes. Cherry Valentine. She's that blonde Soc boy’s girl.”
Yoongi whistled, folding his hands behind his head, “I ain't looking at her.”
He wasn't.
Instead, he was far more interested in the boy beside her.
The doe eyed boy who looked far more interested in messing with the frayed sleeves of his blue sweater than he did whatever the girl was rambling on about. He looked a tad bored, his pink lips were twisted up as she continued to talk and his stance was a bit stiff. Maybe he wasn't comfortable in Greaser territory; he certainly didn't look like a Greaser.
He looked like a Soc with his perfectly cut hair and how clean he looked. Ironed jeans and shiny white sneakers. His highschooler jacket had the school logo on the back, typical Soc fashion.
“Oh,” Jimin suddenly looked more interested when he realized what Yoongi was referring to. He hesitated taking the quarter Hoseok was offering to instead eyeball the boy. After a minute, he accepted and murmured, “Jungkook. I've heard of him before. Real popular babe. His dad owns the pharmacy on Eighth and Harvest Ave.”
Yoongi’s lips pulled into a smirk and Hoseok immediately grew pale and hurriedly added, “Hyung. He's a Soc-”
“He's a babe,” Yoongi mused, smirk tugging at his lips, switching the candy around in his mouth, “A babe's a babe, Soc or not.”
The only one of them who had their fair share of choice in partner was Seokjin. On the weekends, he had many people falling over him, boys and girls. Socs and Greasers. He was handsome, too handsome sometimes. Yoongi was, however, never the type to run away from things he wanted.
When he moved to stand up, Hoseok groaned and rubbed his temple, but didn't protest. Mostly because Yoongi was already jumping over the row of plastic folding chairs in front of them and the sound of all of them clattering around gained too much attention even without him yelling out a protest.
It earned the attention of the duo, too.
Jungkook was a complete babe. That much was true when he turned to look at Yoongi, eyes rounded and doe-like. Like a baby deer, so confused, eyes glimmering with the reflection of the Christmas lights strung on the outside of the snack room. He looked startled, but there was a noticeable difference in his expression.
His expression was not disgusted. Nor worried.
He was just curious.
“No,” Cherry, on the other hand, looked outright disgusted, “Get away, hood.”
Yoongi snickered, “Do yourself a favor and get your head out of your ass. I wasn't even looking at you, apple.”
“It's Cherry.”
Raising his eyebrows, Yoongi feigned apology as he said, with his full chest, “Whatever you say, watermelon.”
She began to squawk handfuls of noises. The boys behind Yoongi snickered. Jungkook's lip pulled up. Just the smallest bit. In the most minuscule way.
Yoongi noticed, of course, and immediately leaned his forearms on the back of his seat. Jungkook was turned, so he was facing him, and Yoongi eyed the boy from the hairs that were perfectly positioned on his forehead to the dark freckle below his lips. The Greaser grinned, “Want a Coke, baby?”
Jungkook opened his mouth only for Cherry to flop a hand at Yoongi, shooing, but she looked disgusted when her hand nearly hit the Greaser. “No he doesn't. We don't. Hood, get out of here or-- or I'll call the cops!”
“That's not scary.”
Eyes flickered to Hoseok, who continued, “Yoongi hyung got out a couple months ago and he was on top of the food chain. Can't really scare us with the cops when we deal with them all that time. Just go away, strawberry.”
Cherry turned red in the face. Likely from a mix of anger and embarrassment. It only made the boys laugh more and now Jungkook was looking at all four of them, eyes twinkling with a tad bit of amusement. She turned to him and grabbed his wrist. “Jungkook. Let's go. Tim is coming to get us anyway-”
“I think he's quite alright,” Yoongi wet his lips, raising his eyebrows as he stared at Jungkook's sparkly eyes, “Ain't that right, babe?”
“No he's not—”
“I'm okay,” Jungkook swallowed hard and turned to look up at Cherry, “Go. It's okay. I'll see what they want. You can wait for them, I'll be right there.”
She looked absolutely enraged, she looked at Jungkook as though he were crazy, but when she took one more glance at the amusement the four Greasers showed, she grabbed her purse and stormed off.
Jungkook really was a looker. Sure that Cherry girl was fine and all, but Jungkook—
“You're smoking, doll,” Yoongi mused, holding his sucker and pressing it against his mouth as his eyes roamed Jungkook's face. “What do you say about going for a walk, me and you, round back—”
“Hyung.”
Jimin shifted to climb over the seats, into the row behind Jungkook where Yoongi was. He looked a little embarrassed when he looked at Jungkook. “Ignore him. Just loses his mind over pretty things.” Jimin hissed and elbowed Yoongi, “He goes to my school, stop.”
Jungkook smiled then and it was all shiny, white, and bright. Pretty, perfect teeth. As expected of a Soc. “You trying to help me out, hyung? Save me?”
Jimin's ears went red. He chuckled and ducked his head before leaning back in his seat, nervously fiddling for the comb in his pocket before running it through his hair. Upon seeing his nervous the other was, Jungkook looked at Yoongi again, smiled, “I'll take a Coke, hyung.”
“Coming,” Yoongi grinned, pointing his sucker at Jungkook, “And you can take a minute to think about the offer, I'll make it worth it.”
Jungkook's cheeks went a tad pink, which they found interesting, but when Yoongi got up to walk away, the boy continued to look at them, all three of them. He bit his lip and glanced over all of them. It was a little intimidating, honestly.
“Sorry about him,” Taehyung whispered, shifting to lean on the back of Jimin's chair, “Honestly, he's harmless.”
Well, not literally. Yoongi had once punched a stranger who ordered he hurry up at the gas station before. A complete stranger, for barely any reason.
To Jungkook, however, he was harmless.
“You alright?” Jungkook said quickly, shifting to sit up, reaching out towards Jimin and brushing fingertips over his knee for his attention. It made Jimin shoot up with surprise.
Jungkook had to be out of his marbles to be touching a Greaser in general. Even talking to them was a big mistake on his part. No Soc in their right mind would put up with greasy hood rats like them. Yet he was. He seemed interested, too.
“Huh?”
“Your lip,” Jungkook mumbled, touching his own lip, “It looks painful.”
“Just a few Socs.” Hoseok rolled his eyes and leaned elbows on his knees, “Bunch of assholes cornered him the other day. Our Jimin is a fighter though. Doesn't give up.”
Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows, and he did look concerned, but now he just looked confused. “I heard a rumor…”
“What is it, babe?” Taehyung muttered, tossing his feet up on the back of the chair beside Jimin's, he started playing with a metal lighter, opening and closing it.
Jungkook eyed him for a second, then mumbled, “Greasers… they don't fight fair. They use blades. I never saw a blade before.”
Eyebrows raised. Eyes shot to the boy.
“What's this about blades?”
Yoongi came over, shoving Taehyung's feet off the seat and thrusting a soda out at Jungkook along with a small container of popcorn. Yoongi settled down and watched Jungkook take a drink, satisfied, before continuing, “We talking about real blades, or we talking about something else. Because if you want to see-”
“Jungkook! Jeon!”
Jungkook nearly dropped his popcorn and his drink at the sudden yell from the car park. The boy immediately jumped up, startled.
And, to their surprise, the Soc cursed, “Shit,” and hurried to tug his jacket all around himself, buttoning it up and wetting his lips nervously. Jungkook smiled, worriedly, “I should go. I don't want to cause anyone issues, um-”
“You don't want them to see you with us.”
It hadn't been an accusation, not really, merely a tired statement. Still, Jungkook looked at Taehyung with regretful eyes and shook his head. When his name was yelled again, Jungkook sighed and bit his lip, leaning over closer to them to mumble. “I really just don't want trouble tonight. I'll see you at school, alright?”
Yoongi twisted his lips up when the boy handed him back his snacks, Jungkook truly did look regretful and upset. He grabbed Jungkook's arm when he did so, making the Soc gasp and his eyes widen. Hoseok hissed, “Hyung, what the fuck-”
“The offer stands,” Yoongi’s eyes flickered back and forth between Jungkook's, “You wanna see a blade, baby. We can show you some switchblades.”
Jungkook swallowed hard enough for his adam’s apple to bob a few times. He whispered, “I'll see you, hyung.”
“I'll be waiting, doll.”
Jungkook’s name was yelled again, a male's voice and not that shrill, high pitched scream of Cherry’s. He immediately jerked out of Yoongi’s grip with a muffled apology and raced to rush down to the car park.
Yoongi stood up to watch him go, trying to pinpoint what car it was he was getting into. Someone shouted behind him, “Sit down!” Yoongi promptly turned and threw Jungkook's soda at the stranger.
So much for one night without a fight.