• Prologue •
Looking back now, it had all begun with a flower– not that he'd given it much thought in the chaos of the last two and a half years. So it was somehow fitting that everything was going to end with one too.
He stood in the darkening lane and stared after the receding tail-lights, indifferent to the icy rivulets of water running down his face. In fact, he was glad for them; they hid his ugliness better than any mask.
He was an idiot for daring to hope that things would change. But when life gives you a second chance, no matter how slim you think it is, you dance with it and pray you don't get the steps wrong. Now his dance had ended and the curtains were closing on him fast. All he was allowed to do was hold on to those last lingering notes and hope that his memory would never let their beauty fade.
Hiding was something he was going to have to get used to again but he didn't move to pull his hood up. Instead he remained standing there long after the rain had begun to taste of salt.
oOo
• ONE •
Two and a half years ago~
Everyone was looking at him where he stood upon the wide landing but he was used to it. His father always said that the most important thing was acting like it didn't affect him. After ten years of practice, Jimin appeared almost bored.
In reality, his patience was thinning by the minute. He'd been peering down into the crowded ballroom for the better part of half and hour but a dark mop of hair eluded him no matter how much he squinted and blinked. Taehyung was late.
He gritted his teeth and irritation finally broke through his composure.
The thing was, Jimin needed this night to be even more perfect than the last two galas had ever been, and yet, the very first time he'd invited a guest of his own, he felt too much on edge and was far more riled up than if he hadn't been looking forward to company at all. It was entirely his own fault.
Incensed, he pushed away from the balcony and came face-to face with the portrait of his grandfather. Something his father always said came back to him as he stared at it. "Don't be a sucker, Jimin, and do things out of friendship or love. Because what you always end up finding out is the only one who really loves you is you."
Jimin had been nine or ten when his father had first said that, and he'd asked, "What about you, abeoji?"
"What?"
"You love…" Me. Jungkookie. "…us. Your family."
He'd given Jimin a long look, "That's different, Jimin."
Jimin had never asked him again if he loved him. He knew his father had told him the truth the first time.
Now, he sneered up at the cold eyes of the oil painting. Jimin was a Park, too. He wasn't going to let a little thing like this get in his way. But it was with a bitter feeling that he swung around towards the nearest staircase.
"Well, aren't you in a mood, gorgeous?"
Jimin stopped in his tracks and composed himself - a little too late - before turning around.
A familiar lanky figure was striding up the left-side staircase towards him, an impish grin already starting on his face. Back-lit against the light from the ballroom, Taehyung seemed almost ethereal when he came to a stop in front of his best friend.
"What did Grandpa Park say to you, Jiminie?" he asked, eyes twinkling.
Jimin deigned to ignore this.
"You're really early," he remarked instead, flicking his cuff.
"In my defense I was up in your room."
Jimin glanced up sharply. ".. in my room?"
"You said you'd wait for me, remember?"
"I never said in my room. I was waiting for you out here."
"Yes, but I didn't know that."
"There's something called asking, Taehyung."
"I did ask - stop being snarky. Lee ahjumma told me you were 'upstairs'." He peered down at the assorted rich and famous over the balcony. "Didn't think she literally meant up the stairs . Here. Standing on a landing."
Jimin tried very hard not to pinch the bridge of his nose. He couldn't believe that all his frustration had been for nothing.
"Wasn't it obvious that I wasn't in my room?"
"Your clothes were everywhere," Taehyung shrugged. "I thought you were having one of your extra-long baths or something."
"Wow. Checking my bathroom didn't occur to you. At all."
Taehyung interrupted his appraisal long enough to grin at him. "It did. Only when enough time had passed to know that even you wouldn't take that long."
Jimin scoffed but it didn't really contain any ill-feeling. Arguing with Taehyung was familiar territory- equal parts endearing and exasperating.
"Fine," he conceded. "Mrs Lee needs to work on being more specific, then."
"Yes, yes," Taehyung genially patted his arm. "And a good many other things besides, we know – woah, look. It's that Juilliard scholarship prodigy."
Some things never changed.
"Shall we, then?" Jimin said, gazing downstairs himself. The ballroom was filling up quickly.
Taehyung hummed and then with an abrupt, exaggerated flourish he offered his hand to Jimin.
"Ready to grace the mortals with your presence, Your Highness?" he asked, tone mocking but eyes glinting with the same unborn laughter that had made Jimin trust him out of all the other kids in their eighth grade class.
This was why he'd needed Taehyung, why he'd been waiting for him on the balcony in the first place. Because, despite himself, he felt lighter and several degrees warmer than he had several minutes ago.
With Taehyung by his side he felt as though he was capable of anything.
Ignoring the gesture, Jimin smirked and spun his friend around. "Shut up and come on. Remember what I said now 'cause they're already at it."
Taehyung tipped his head back and laughed.
"Oh god. This is going to be such a blast."
And as the two friends began their descent with perfectly schooled expressions, Jimin didn't realize in just what way that sentence was going to prove true.
Yoongi very nearly did not make it that night. All because of the simple fact that he'd forgotten to set an alarm.
So he was late but didn't know that yet.
In fact, he was waking up rather slowly. The flat was quiet and the setting sun filtered in through a gap in the curtains that never shut fully. He was vaguely aware of the sound of two muffled snores floating through the thin walls but they didn't bother him. He was shifting his pillows around trying to find a sunless patch on his bed when it hit him like a ton of bricks over the head.
He shot upright and then groaned. His back ached and he felt stiff all over but they were inconsequential to his internal conflict. He reached over his pillow for his phone and groaned again when he saw the time.
He couldn't believe that he'd forgotten what day it was.
Then again, maybe he could.
Without further preamble, he hopped out of bed, ignoring his protesting muscles, and headed for the bathroom. The sound of Namjoon and Jihyun snoring in harmony as he passed their rooms was torturous but he forcefully marched himself into the cubicle, stripped and turned on the shower. Though the water was lukewarm it served its purpose. He didn't feel so much like a dead man walking.
Good . He wasn't ready to let his hyung down.
His loyalty did not, however, disperse his ill feelings towards the upcoming evening. Half of him just wanted to throw in the towel (quite literally) and tell Dohyeong that he'd pay him back any other way. The other half was conscientious enough to know that backing out now would be very selfish of him.
He compensated by cursing this second half in the foulest language he knew.
Still grumbling to himself, he toweled himself dry. It was no mean feat to get dressed quietly in their flat (his 'room' was little bigger than a closet) - it was an art form that he barely managed that day.
So it was a close call when he looked up to check his bowtie in the mirror and snorted out loud. The snores barely paused, thankfully, but- he looked so pretentious! Pity he didn't have time to wear his contacts; his glasses didn't really complement the debonair man standing in front him. Yoongi smiled wryly at himself and pushed them on with no small amount of spite. At least, there'd be one thing in his outfit that belonged to him alone.
He ran a hand through his almost-dry hair, picked up his wallet and phone from the bedside table and let himself out of the front door.
He took a deep breath at the top of the narrow stairs.
As much as he missed having Joon by his side, there were some instances when you just had to go it alone.
Well, he wouldn't be completely alone, not exactly.
He patted his jacket pocket to check if the stiff card was still there and, satisfied, made his way down to catch a taxi.
oOo
If everyone had been looking at him before, they were positively staring now, only breaking out of their stupor to smile and nod at Jimin as he passed. On occasion, someone would introduce themselves and their plus ones to shake his hand but they went right back to gaping and whispering the instant he and Taehyung had passed out of earshot.
Jimin couldn't have cared less – this was business as usual. However, the same couldn't be said for Taehyung.
He stole a glance at his friend.
For his part, Taehyung seemed to be taking it in his stride, nonchalantly sipping his drink and nodding politely at particularly persistent people. Apparently acting classes did have their uses.
Jimin felt his lips tug upwards at how oddly nice it felt to have a friendly warmth by his side for a change as he swam with the sharks.
It was all thanks to a rare impulsive decision and the fact that what Park Jimin wanted, he got. With less than two weeks left he had asked Mr Jung to send an invitation out to his best friend. The sudden urge was more to curb the overwhelming sense of impending panic at the thought of messing up his speech and having nothing but his own wits to counter his father's inevitable disappointment than for the actual need for companionship. Socializing on his own at these galas was just too easy for him and, besides, this year wasn't about socializing – it was to be all business.
Taehyung was now fulfilling his primary goal of the evening – talking to 'people'. Jimin recognized the chairwoman of a broadcasting corporation and her husband when they greeted him formally, Taehyung needing no help in pulling them into conversation. He probably knew more about their line of work than Jimin did anyway.
Momentarily bored, he lifted an hors d'oeuvre off a passing tray and nibbled at it, letting his eyes drift around the room without really seeing it.
He didn't bother hiding his smirk when a group of idol-friends dithered between acting coy to get his attention and giggling behind their hands. It was obvious why he was getting more attention than usual. Both he and Tae were in black and white bespoke Ermenegildo Zegna's for crying out loud. That, paired with how naturally good-looking they both were, meant that no other man there could hold a torch to either of them.
Except one , Jimin reckoned.
A woman in a lilac Prada gown introduced herself to the director and Taehyung pulled himself out of their midst. He seemed excited.
"Ah Jiminie, you know, they're looking to expand into more realism than stylized acting in their dramas? That's exactly what I've been working on for my final. What are the odds?"
Jimin hummed noncommittally and steered them towards a cocktail station at the side of the room, thinking that Taehyung might appreciate something stronger.
There was still no sign of his father.
Taehyung's hand on his arm stopped him,"Aren't you going to talk to him at all tonight?"
Jimin looked up with a frown.
Taehyung pointed with his chin at a slight young man leaning against a pillar. The girl talking to him glanced down. (She'd been staring at them.) Yoo Kihyun followed her movement, saw Jimin and raised a hand in greeting.
Great.
Jimin forced a smile on his face as Kihyun walked up to them. He really didn't have time for this conversation.
"Jimin! I thought I'd bump into you tonight." Kihyun seemed pleased. Poor guy.
"Yeah, well, I do live here."
Kihyun laughed. "I was going to say something at lectures last week but then forgot completely. We could've made some… plans."
"We could've," Jimin agreed, knowing full well that getting high at a party like this would just mean social suicide.
Kihyun was now looking at Taehyung, Taehyung was looking at Jimin.
"Who's this?" Kihyun asked.
"Kim Taehyung." Jimin offered no other explanation. "This is Yoo Kihyun. From finance class."
Taehyung rolled his eyes at Jimin but shook hands. "Nice to meet you."
"You too," Kihyun smiled. "So how do you know Jimin?"
Taehyung seemed to be suppressing a sigh. "We were in middle school together."
"Oh, wow," Kihyun said, surprised. "You guys go way back then. I wouldn't have known. Jimin doesn't talk about himself much."
Taehyung grinned, "He doesn't, does he? You have to remind him to, every now and then."
Jimin smirked.
"It was great seeing you, Kihyun," he said "I completely forgot that you'd be invited this year. Congratulations about your dad."
"Thanks. And that's okay," Kihyun said lightly, "maybe you can show me around?"
Jimin paused, pretending to consider, "Not just now. There are some people I've got to introduce to Taehyung first."
"Oh, right," Kihyun's eyes shifted to his friend and for the first time Jimin saw disappointment in them.
Maybe he wasn't such an idiot after all.
Admittedly, Kihyun had been bold enough to speak to Jimin on his first day of lectures, from amongst hundreds of intimidated others.
After that, Jimin had only kept him around for the sole purpose of maintaining appearances –and livening up his parties –because the thing was Park Jimin did not make friends with just anyone. Taehyung was and would always be the only exception. The day he'd come home from school and let slip about his new best friend, his father had warned him that allowing people to get that close to you was just inviting them to use you. Jimin had no intentions of letting Kihyun in that far.
"Find me later then," Kihyun smiled.
"Yeah, I'll see you around," Jimin lied smoothly.
Taehyung smiled at Kihyun too before they walked away again.
"You and I both know you're not going back to find him," Taehyung said in a low voice.
"Yeah, so?"
"Jimin-ah, he seemed fine," Taehyung looked at him pointedly.
Jimin patted Taehyung's shoulder and came to stop five tables away from a group of conversing men. There in their midst stood his father, his presence twice bigger than all of the others' combined.
"He's fine for uni stuff but I don't want to deal with him tonight. You're here and, besides," Jimin pointedly glanced in his father's direction, "I have much bigger fish to fry this time around."
When Taehyung realized what Jimin meant, he let out a loud groan.
"I thought tonight was supposed to be fun, Jimin-ah! Okay, yeah, whatever, I'm leaving you to this. Just- find me once you're done?"
Jimin smiled, "Yeah, I will."
"Hey," Taehyung squinted at him,"I'm not Yoo Kihyun."
Jimin snickered and shoved him lightly.
"Go. I'll find you."
His friend nodded and began to walk away.
"Just checking," he called over his shoulder. "I never know with you. I'll meet you at our table anyway, in case you get lost."
Taehyung's eyes twinkled one last time before he slipped away into the crowd. Jimin watched him go.
If he'd known about the speech he would have wished Jimin luck.
Dismissing the heavy feeling in his chest, he turned away and headed for his father.
Yoongi stepped out onto wet pavement, only to stand staring aghast outside a huge pair of wrought iron gates. A long line of cars wound through them down an unnecessarily wide driveway up to what looked like a porch in the distance.
He seemed to be one of the few people who'd opted to walk in.
Which probably was a good thing, he thought, as he began to crunch his way over the gravel; it gave him time to school his expression back from what-the-fuck to polite interest.
Nothing could have prepared him for this.
The whole place was ridiculous. It wasn't just the expansive gardens dotted with fountains and those freakishly-shaped bushes on either side of the honest-to-god avenue nor was it the disturbing monotony of the luxury cars moving along slowly beside him. The biggest problem was the manor itself, wide and expansive, rising out of the distance before him. Closer to a small palace in size, the way it was lit up all softly in places and brightly in others, it looked as though it had been sprinkled with fairy dust. As though it was part of a fairytale, a stolen bit of time from a magical realm…
Yoongi shook his head. He'd just pictured the entire place lifting up and floating away into the twilight.
He needed to focus.
Drawing up close to the porch, he paused- a lady dressed up to the nines was being helped out of the car nearest to him. Two cars down, a man in a flamboyant tuxedo was bowed out of his car. They were both directed up a flight of wide steps towards a pair of tall engraved doors, where officials stood checking invitations.
Yoongi headed instead toward a more inconspicuous entrance down the smaller lane that continued straight up instead of turning on to the porch. A truck was being unloaded in front of it by men clad in white, a delectable aroma emanating from the crates they were carrying.
The delivery entrance, naturally.
Yoongi moved to the stand beside a pot plant nearly as tall as himself and pulled out his phone to shoot off a text. The response was instantaneous (Ok. Come near the side door. 1 min.). Dohyeong seemed to have been waiting for him, which made sense.
He walked up to stand beside the truck. Loud instructions could be heard from inside amidst the cacophony of pans and dishes. A man carrying a crate gave him the side-eye as he passed through the doorway and Yoongi quickly attempted to look busy on his phone. Now that Yoongi was here, he realized that Dohyeong must have gone to extreme lengths to get him into the gala. The security of the place was insane.
Then again, Yoongi supposed, what did he know about extreme lengths. He'd never been in love.
Suddenly there was a man standing next to him. Unfamiliar, dressed up in an official-looking uniform, his face impassive.
"You with Kwon Dohyeong?" he asked Yoongi in an unexpectedly deep voice.
"Er- yeah, I am."
"Name?"
"Min Yoongi."
"Come with me please."
The man turned on his heel to duck inside through the door, nodding at the guard stationed there. The guard barely glanced at Yoongi as he followed close behind. Yoongi could hardly believe it had been that easy.
They walked through the warm corridor, passing several doors that led into bustling kitchens. Yoongi's glasses fogged up with steam and he nearly got bowled over as he tried to wipe them when an enormous tray of baked pastries was whisked past.
After that Yoongi kept close behind the man, and a flight of steps later found himself inside a long entrance hall. A golden vase of blue flowers stood against each pillar and gilded mirrors reflected his slightly weary expression. The entrance he'd seen from outside interrupted the pillars on his right and, directly opposite him, another pair of doors led into the ballroom itself. Soft instrumental music floated out of it amidst snatches of conversation.
A lady in a floaty lilac dress drifted inside, turned right and walked into the ballroom, only stopping to receive a token of some kind from the butler stationed there.
The man Yoongi was with probably had more authority than he had given him credit for. When they walked inside themselves, his guide only had to nod at the butler for him to let Yoongi through without question. Yoongi was impressed. He hadn't even needed to produce the invitation.
The stoic man turned to face Yoongi at last and told him to wait before disappearing back the way they'd come.
Yoongi had barely turned back to face the room when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.
"Yoongi-yah, where were you?"
It was Dohyeong, smiling happily.
"You know, for a second there, I was afraid you'd bailed out on me."
"Nah, just overslept, sorry hyung…," Yoongi said, distracted, because if he had thought the outside was opulent, the inside was, impossibly, even more so. From the high arched ceiling draped with chandeliers to the waiters buzzing around with trays of coloured cocktails, more mirrored walls and so many golden vases, everything had a shiny sort of quality to it that screamed wealth.
It was disconcerting.
Dohyeong looked amused. "Don't tell me genius Min is already overwhelmed? We haven't even got to the best part yet."
Yoongi gave him his best don't-shit-with-me look. "Where's Seulgi-ssi?"
"Straight to business, got it," Dohyeong said. "Okay then. Let's get this show on the road."
He put an arm on Yoongi's shoulder and guided him further inside, right into the heart of the glittering splendor.
oOo
Jimin came to a stop a few feet away from the circle around his father and steeled himself.
This was it. He couldn't bungle this up.
As he hovered on the periphery, contemplating how best to intrude upon his father's company, he felt a cold shiver interrupt his musings and tingle down his spine, making his smile slip and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
It was a feeling- a niggling sense - that he was being watched in a way that was worlds apart from any spell-bound gaze; it made him feel like prey.
Suppressing a shudder, he carefully looked in the direction instinct told him to, experience already telling him whom he would find.
There he was, idly swirling a drink underneath an arched side entrance, a black-haired man with thin lips, his cold eyes fixed on Jimin.
Spiderface . Surprise, surprise.
Fighting the urge to growl, he took in a deep breath and lifted his chin slightly. This was all a game and his father said it was important that he learned to win it. Spiderface was just one obstacle out of a hundred.
When their gazes met over the small sea of people between them, for a fleeting second both boy and man were still.
Then the elder slowly raised his glass at Jimin in a silent toast, which to anyone watching could have been taken as a wish for good luck; Jimin saw it for the mockery that it was.
Hardening his jaw, he allowed a bright, arrogant grin to flash across his face and inclined his head in a deep, courteous nod – a gesture he was sure could be seen even over the distance between them. He held the other's leering gaze – pathetic fool, who did he think he was? - until he saw him turn away and disappear into the outer corridor.
The spark of satisfaction he felt at that however was not enough to stop the wave of apprehension that threatened to ruin the buoyant mood he'd built up since meeting Taehyung.
Slowly releasing the breath he'd been holding, he realized just how much of his mask was being held in place by sheer force of will and, to his utter disgust, that his palms were sweating and his heart was beating a little faster than it should have been- he could feel it in his throat.
Ah, seriously.
Abandoning his previous course, he walked towards the sidelines and tried to regain some semblance of control. He hated that something as stupid as a non-verbal standoff had such a huge effect on him.
Do Minghyu, the company's Vice-President, had passive-aggressively plagued Jimin from the moment he'd perceived him as a threat to his own ambitions. Jimin didn't have to be psychic to know that he must be praying for his failure on a night like this.
Why couldn't he just not care about snakes like that man? Why was it so hard to stand his ground in their ridiculous mind games? Jimin was fairly sure he had won that round but how the fuck do you win something when you don't even know what the rules are in the first place?
But you're just a kid, said a small voice in his head that he couldn't shove away fast enough.
No , he thought back furiously, I'm not.
He could handle anything they threw at him. He was Worthy.
It was time to swallow his inhibitions.
The conversation paused when he stepped into the space beside his father.
He bowed in greeting to the group at large but mostly to the man standing next to him.
"Ah, Jimin," his father said after a small pause. "Gentlemen, this is Park Jimin, my eldest."
They bowed to him at varying degrees. An old gentleman with graying hair and a sharp nose barely nodded. Jimin tried not to narrow his eyes.
"Please, don't stop on my behalf," he said instead. "I can learn a lot by listening to experience."
A younger man with a floral tie chuckled, "And once you do, you'll buy over our companies too, I presume?"
"If it'll be in better hands, then yes," Jimin said, without missing a beat.
A few more joined the man in his laughter.
"Ah, all Parks are born the same," a middle-aged man said with a shit-eating grin.
Jimin's father smiled thinly. "My son will be giving his introductory speech tonight," he said. "I hope he will be well received."
The gentleman with the flowered tie waved his hand in dismissal. "He's your son, Mr Park. He'll have the whole ballroom wrapped around his fingers before he even says two words."
The others mumbled in assent. The gray haired gentleman's lips twitched but he disguised it behind his glass.
If Jimin hadn't liked him before, he liked him even less now.
The man in question lowered his cocktail and turned to the gentleman with the floral tie. "Have you introduced your star recruits to Jimin yet, Wang?" His voice lingered slightly on Jimin's name.
Jimin's lip curled at the subtle show of disrespect but his father hadn't noticed.
Mr Wang didn't give him time to respond to it, either.
"Oh, yes, I've been meaning to," he said, placing an arm on Jimin's shoulder. "This is the perfect opportunity, Mr Park -you're so important these days, who knows when I'll catch you again?"
Jimin tilted his head in polite interest. "Who are we meeting?"
The hand on his arm began to turn him around.
"Come, come, your talent is the perfect inspiration," Mr Wang said as they walked away from the group. "Two young things, scouted from down South but they have a lot of potential. Talking to you might give them some perspective, no? On what it's like to be a star at the top of this world... Give them some direction, Mr Park." He paused, "oh, and they're probably your age so you'll get along much better."
He smiled indulgently at Jimin, who had no choice but to let himself be steered back the way he'd come.
Jimin glanced over his shoulder and the last thing he saw of the group was the conversation resuming, his father laughing at something the gray-haired man had said, before the crowd swallowed them up.
Yoongi barely registered Dohyeong rattling off the names of the various prominent figures they passed by.
They all looked exactly the same to Yoongi so it didn't make any difference what they were called. All of them sported gleaming skin and glittering jewels, exchanged bright, flashing smiles without warmth and wore dresses and tuxedos that were either elegant or eccentric. None of them so much as looked their way- in fact their eyes appeared to glance off them automatically.
Power moves, go figure.
So yeah, Yoongi couldn't have cared less about them.
Instead, something of much higher import began to steal his attention. The closer they got to the end of the hall, the clearer the tinkling notes of music became, until he was able to drown out Dohyeong and the conversations they passed by in favour of listening to the tune.
At last the dais came into view and he saw it.
Yoongi's heart swelled and his fingers tingled in anticipation.
For there, upon the low wooden platform, sitting in between ornate vases of flowers was one of the most magnificent grand pianos he'd ever seen. Its notes were so much richer and soulful up close. Combined with the accompanying cello and violins the effect was timeless.
"Were you even listening to me?" Dohyeong's voice floated out of the noise around him.
Yoongi hummed, barely taking his eyes off the stage.
Dohyeong followed his gaze.
"Oh, yeah I know. Beautiful, right?"
Yoongi glanced at him, surprised.
"I didn't take you for a piano enthusiast, hyung."
"What?" Dohyeong looked confused as he tried to catch the eye of the lady playing the piano.
Right .
Now that he looked at the pianist, he noticed that Seulgi was dressed in a simple yet elegant black gown identical to the other three musicians. Yoongi had to agree with Dohyeong- their attire was much more preferable to the lavish finery of the guests surrounding them.
Dohyeong walked up to Seulgi to catch her eye again and quickly pointed at Yoongi, who gave a little wave when he was spotted.
She spared him a warm smile before going back to her playing.
"Ok. So, she knows the drill, you know the drill," Dohyeong said, coming back to Yoongi.
He looked around but no one seemed to be paying this end of the hall any attention. As it were, the other guests seemed to be occupied by much more enticing social engagements than to bother playing audience to a bunch of musicians.
They both stood in silence, waiting for the piece to come to an end.
"Thanks for doing this, Yoongi-yah," the older man said after a minute, "I'll really owe you one if this works out."
Dohyeong's sincerity took away the last of Yoongi's misgivings. "What were the lamb skewers for then?" he teased.
Dohyeong shrugged, "Ah that was just upfront payment."
"Right," Yoongi smirked. "Hyung, it's fine. Honestly. Getting to play that," he pointed at the piano, "is payment enough. You know me."
Dohyeong chuckled.
"Yeah, actually, I do. If only the world was more like you, we'd have no trouble getting anything done."
And it was true.
At last the music drifted to a close and it was time.
Seulgi glanced around, caught Yoongi's eye and vacated her seat. By the time she'd stood up, Yoongi was already sliding onto the stool.
The other musicians didn't seem surprised – Seulgi had probably warned them in advance- but they were not the ones he had to worry about.
The more important person could be seen standing in one of the side archways leading out of the hall, gesticulating impatiently and speaking into a clip-on headset.
Event coordinators that passionate were not to be trifled with. They were all very lucky that this one was distracted just then.
Yoongi hoped this luck would hold.
"Thanks, Yoongi-ssi. We'll come back soon." He felt Seulgi touch him on the shoulder before hopping off the platform but Yoongi barely glanced up. Both of them would disappear for an hour, long enough for Seulgi to meet whoever it was Dohyeong wanted her to.
Turning his attention to the music sheets in front of him, he went through the upcoming numbers. They were all ones he knew like the back of his hand. The other musicians were ready.
All Yoongi had to do now was what he did best- play the piano.
And try not to get caught. There was that as well.
He straightened his glasses, placed his fingers on the starting keys and at long, long last, began to play.
oOo
Jimin downed his third whiskey and set the empty glass down on the table.
He couldn't believe what had just happened.
The minute Mr Wang had introduced him to a boy with a bad hairdo and a girl in a fake Versace number, he'd disappeared.
One second he'd been next to Jimin laughing at something the other boy had said and the next, Jimin had been on his own with the two strangers. Budding idols as they were, they tried to keep the conversation going for Jimin's sake but he was far too distracted to even attempt to look like he cared.
All he knew was that he'd been forcibly removed from the only place he should be standing at the moment; by his father's side.
Jimin couldn't understand it.
Hadn't his father said that he should begin to consider himself part of the company after he came of age? Hadn't he especially asked Jimin to pull up his socks and become better acquainted with the business' internal affairs? Most importantly, hadn't he told Jimin to consider this year's gala as his introduction to the conglomerate world as the rightful heir to the Park empire?
Jimin had even spent the entirety of the last week memorizing the speech Mr Jung had cooked up for him at his father's behest.
Yet, after all that, his father had done nothing as he'd been talked down to by the gray haired man. Had done nothing when he'd been led away by Mr Wang. Had simply resumed conversing once Jimin was out of earshot.
Jimin balled his hands into fists to prevent his face from revealing his turmoil.
The couple before him had resorted to talking by themselves, glancing occasionally at Jimin as they laughed at each other's quips. They didn't need him in the least.
Without bothering to excuse himself, Jimin turned on his heel and walked away.
He didn't know where he was heading but he kept going anyway, barely acknowledging anyone he passed. There was no sign of Taehyung at this end of the room but just then, Jimin didn't want even his company.
After all, how could he answer questions on what was wrong when he didn't even know the answers himself?
A tray of drinks was swept by him and for the first time that evening he felt inclined to take one. He wasn't going to trash himself but a few glasses would calm his nerves, if anything. He'd developed a high tolerance years ago.
With a new goal in mind he headed in the direction of the closest cocktail station. Since no one was seated at the round dinner tables yet, Jimin was able to serve himself a stronger drink and seat himself down at the end of the hall.
It was a good thing that the center pieces were as big as they were; even in his frazzled state he knew it wouldn't be good publicity to be seen apparently getting pissed at his own father's charity dinner. Only a couple of waiters disturbed his solitude to replenish his supply.
Maybe that was why he was able to notice that something didn't seem quite right. The music had changed. It had a rude kind of compulsion to be heard, listened to. Suddenly it had a soul of its own.
He found the source of the disturbance quite easily.
Instead of the woman he'd seen at the beginning, a young man with dark tousled hair and glasses sat astride the piano stool. He didn't look like he belonged there, with his trashy tux- he wasn't even wearing his entrance boutonniere. But Jimin had to concede that the glasses made him look a little… softer. Younger? He wasn't sure that was the word for it. Perhaps the alcohol was beginning to speak for him after all.
But as he got used to this anomaly, what he was hearing caught up with his senses.
That was when Jimin stopped caring about finding the right word. That was when he nearly forgot why he held a glass in his hand.
He simply sat there and listened as the man in the glasses serenaded his soul.
The hour was nearly up and Yoongi had to admit that he had got a little lost.
Lost in the music that is.
It had been so cathartic to play for the sake of playing after so long of using the instrument for composing.
The music had swelled around him as he played the piano. From Passacaglia to The Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2; the pieces all sang around him like long lost friends, the string instruments only serving to accentuate their dips and curves. He'd forgotten that all it took to help him unwind was not a bottle or a good hook-up; it was just the freedom of letting his fingers dance across the keys to hear their music for himself. It almost felt like revisiting his lost childhood.
Pity he couldn't do this more often.
It was with regret that he opened his eyes at Seulgi's touch, that he brought the piece to an end and stepped away to let her take his place again.
Seulgi beamed and promptly kissed him on the cheek before sitting down and beginning the next number as smoothly as ever.
The fuck was that?
Flabbergasted, he clutched his ears, knowing they'd involuntarily turned pink. The accompanying musicians looked amused.
He hastily nodded at them before stepping down to join Dohyeong, glancing around wearily - he'd nearly forgotten where they were. But his caution was (blessedly) unnecessary - the event-coordinator was nowhere to be seen.
His hyung's expression brought him back down to earth again.
"Hyung, what's wrong?" he asked with a matching frown.
"Honestly?" Dohyeong asked, moodily looking at the vases on the dais. "Everything, Yoongi."
Yoongi glanced up at Seulgi but she seemed positively radiant with happiness as she played.
"Er, didn't you have fun?"
Dohyeong glowered. "No I didn't," he growled. "Learn from this Yoongi-yah. Don't ever, and I repeat ever , let your date meet a celebrity crush in front of you if you want to preserve your dignity."
Oh . That seemed rough. Yoongi fought a smile off his face in lieu of appearing sympathetic but he must have failed.
"Traitor," Dohyeong muttered. "I need a drink. Wait for me." And he stormed off towards a self-service station.
Yoongi considered following him. He certainly needed to stick with Dohyeong to get back out but then again, he didn't really feel like listening to his hyung gripe this early in the night. They all knew it was best to let him cool down by himself when he got like this and he'd be laughing about it during lunch the next day.
Instead, he spied an ideal-looking side door and, after taking a drink from a passing waiter, made a beeline for it.
He'd chosen this exit because it seemed quiet and as of yet unpopulated by younger guests looking for a secluded retreat. And he'd been right.
He stepped out into the crisp night air of a patio bordering a dimly lit indoor garden. Pillars ran around its perimeter and chest high hedges lead down to a large fountain splashing softly in the middle, weak moonlight dancing on its ripples.
Huffing out a long breath, he leaned against a pillar and stuffed his free hand into the warmth of his pocket.
Top notch stuff , he noted wryly after a sip of cold liquor- as if it'd be anything but.
From inside, seemingly miles away now, he could hear the muffled hum of conversation and lingering notes of music. He felt good to be away from that atmosphere. All the stiff formality and silent codes of conduct had been weighing him down for the short period that he'd been aware of it.
He closed his eyes and let the soft sounds of the night wash over him, free to be himself again at last.
He didn't feel that tired anymore, funnily enough. In fact, he felt invigorated; even more so just standing in the moonlit terrace. Maybe he'd take out his old composition notebook later and see what came of it. Nights like these tended to be the most inspirational so the idea had him itching to get back home- also perhaps, to stop at the corner store for a steaming cup of ramen. He needed to leave this place before they served dinner anyway.
Ten more minutes passed by the time Dohyeong finally came to get him, albeit a little quietly.
Yoongi hid his smile behind his empty glass. "Feeling better?"
When he didn't get a response he looked up at Dohyeong and tried not to be condescending. "Ah seriously, Dohyeong h-"
Yoongi froze.
Instead of his hyung, there stood a complete stranger.
A young stranger, who was staring at Yoongi with an intense yet unreadable expression on his face. He looked every inch, from the artfully coiffed hair to the immaculately tailored tuxedo, an entitled prat.
"It's Jimin, actually."
Wow. He even sounded like an entitled prat. How utterly unexpected.
"Can I help you?" Yoongi asked coolly.
The prat narrowed his eyes at that but Yoongi held his gaze. After a few long seconds, the stranger seemed to come to some sort of conclusion because he huffed and turned to lean delicately against another pillar. His face returned to indifference as it looked out at the dark hedges.
"That was risky, what you did back there." His voice was in conflict with the sharp angles of his face; silky smooth and raw around the edges. "Lucky none of the event heads noticed, don't you think?"
Yoongi stiffened upon processing this. So he had been spotted after all.
"What're you trying to say?" he asked, gripping his glass tightly. Seulgi was going to get into trouble depending on how this conversation went.
"Nothing." The prat seemed to be enjoying himself, if the upward tilt to his annoyingly full lips was any indication. "Just that you played well, piano man."
What?
"It was quite the riveting performance," the man continued evenly. "And I bet it was all by ear?"
Yoongi inclined his head, feeling a little thrown off course.
"See," the stranger mused. "A lot of people would pay big money for that kind of talent."
Yoongi didn't know what he was supposed to say to that so he turned back to the garden, mirroring his uninvited companion. Well, that was... Of all things, praise was the last thing he'd expected for what he'd done that evening, especially from the likes of this man.
A tense silence cloaked them where they stood, neither willing to speak first.
Well, tense on Yoongi's part at any rate; the other man seemed to be at perfect ease. The fountain gurgled softly before them.
"You're not much of a talker are you?" the stranger broke the silence after a minute, not looking at Yoongi.
Oh, well-spotted, genius. "Speak for yourself."
His companion snorted."All right, fair enough." he conceded. "What are you doing out here, then?"
Great. They were making conversation.
"Needed an escape from the circus. Like you did, evidently."
"Ah no, not me," the man responded, almost to himself. "I'm certainly part of this show."
Yoongi glanced sideways at him. He'd been expecting something witty or sarcastic, not this strange honesty. If he didn't know any better he'd think the guy – what was his name, Jimin? - was drunk.
He looked at Yoongi again, as though suddenly remembering his presence, "You're definitely not, though." Then he smirked, "evidently . "
Yoongi scoffed. "How would you know?"
"You could say I'm something of a connoisseur at reading people." Tilting his head, Jimin looked long at Yoongi, provocation dancing in his eyes.
Yoongi frowned and tugged at his sleeve.
Jimin snorted again, dismissively, "You're too easy, maestro."
But you're not .
Yoongi had no clue what more this guy wanted from him. Why couldn't he just leave?
He jerked his head in the general direction of the hall. "You say you're part of the show. It seems to be going on without you right now."
Jimin hummed,"It is, isn't it?"
After a brief silence, in which Yoongi assumed that was all he was going to get, Jimin continued.
"The thing is, when your entire life is the show, it gets a little tedious. Sometimes you'd do anything for a few seconds where you can just sort of... breathe." Jimin blew out slowly and watched the air condense into a small cloud. "So, no. I'm not here to escape. Just to breathe."
Yoongi was quietly surprised. Because he got it. He wasn't exactly sure of what he'd done to inspire this level of camaraderie and decided that the guy actually was very drunk. But he could feel his own guard dropping dangerously with every word this Jimin said that wasn't obnoxious.
"Do you want to?" Yoongi asked.
Jimin looked at him questioningly. "Want to what?"
"Escape."
Jimin shook his head with a small smile and turned back to the garden,"I don't expect you to understand, piano man."
Oh, I think I do, though .
The distant sound of the music suddenly came to an end. They both looked up when an emcee's voice floated out of the terrace doors, inviting guests to be seated for dinner.
This was bad news.
Yoongi had needed to get going a long time before this but Dohyeong wasn't back yet. If Yoongi was caught inside without a seat, a fake invitation would just make matters worse.
A soft sigh reminded him that he wasn't alone.
Jimin's brow was furrowed and he was looking down at his hands thoughtfully; his first lack of emotional control, Yoongi noted. It didn't sit right with the whole unaffected air he'd exuded.
"Guess that's my cue," he said quietly, in a manner alarmingly different to his previous composure.
"Why?" Yoongi asked suddenly, making Jimin whip his head up.
Something had subconsciously changed in Yoongi's perception of the boy in front of him, arrogant and entitled as he was.
Yoongi looked out at the fountain, searching for the words as he spoke, "I mean, you don't have to go by their rules if you don't want to. Do what you want sometimes, it won't hurt anyone. Least of all yourself."
For a long moment Jimin was silent, and when Yoongi finally looked at him something unreadable was glinting in his eyes again.
Then, just as suddenly as the glint had appeared, it was gone.
Jimin flashed Yoongi a practiced grin, revealing a set of perfect teeth that gleamed in the dim light; it didn't quite reach his eyes. Any trace of weariness had disappeared. It was as though he'd slipped a mask back on.
"Wise words, piano man- do you have a name or should I keep calling you that?"
Yoongi straightened up and looked away. "It's Yoongi," he said gruffly. "Min Yoongi." He usually wasn't this forthcoming but the sudden changes in mood had him feeling slightly whiplashed.
Jimin hummed to himself again.
"I'll be seeing you around then, Min Yoongi," he said, straightening up as well. He paused, considering Yoongi for a second. Then he pulled something out of his pants pocket with a slight smirk. "Here," he held out his hand and showed Yoongi what lay in his palm.
It was a buttonhole flower.
"Security protocol will get you kicked out if you're not wearing your boutonniere. It's like an entrance pass- you exchange your invitation for one."
Yoongi blinked. "Right," he said, reaching out and plucking it from the outstretched hand.
It looked so small and delicate, the blue standing out starkly against the white of his palm. This was the most understated element of the entire evening and yet was somehow all the more beautiful for it. He could crush it in a single movement.
Jimin seemed to be watching him, if his peripheral vision was anything to judge by. Yoongi honestly didn't know what to make of him anymore.
"Won't you need it?" Yoongi asked.
Jimin tilted his head back and laughed. "Look, I don't think you have to worry about me." A joke Yoongi was missing sparkled in his eyes. Cocky much? "Just wear the damn thing?"
"Thanks." And Yoongi meant it, despite the obnoxious way it had been given. He could just walk out through the front doors now.
His unexpected ally shrugged. "It's… whatever. Try not to get caught. Don't need any more drama tonight."
It was clearly supposed to be another joke but it came off too sincere.
With a final indecipherable smile, Jimin turned and sauntered off.
Yoongi watched him go, considering. Now that was a man who seemed capable of making heads turn and conversations hush, of parting a crowd like a knife through butter. There were no tell-tale signs of inebriation whatsoever, only an aura of undeniable authority and power. Yoongi had never seen a person that cock-sure of himself.
It made him wonder how much of it was real.
Yoongi was not one for the cloak-and-dagger sort of life at all. Yet, that night, he felt shadier than a back-alley robber.
After he'd been left alone on the patio, he'd texted Dohyeong to say that he would be get himself out and not to worry.
Somehow, he managed to make his way back into the hall and towards the entrance undetected, mingling with the few guests still being shown to their seats, the boutonniere proving itself with every step he took that didn't bring the manor's security bearing down upon him.
So intent was he on his destination that he barely noticed the emcee's announcements until a familiar voice made him stop dead just before the front doors. The butler standing there looked at him in polite enquiry but he ignored him.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. It is my privilege and honour to welcome you all tonight on behalf of my father, Park Jaehyun, to the Seoul Music Circle's annual gala dinner…."
Yoongi turned on his heel.
Standing on the podium across the ballroom stood a figure dressed in black, whose silver blonde hair would have given him away if his voice hadn't already.
But he wasn't speaking anymore. He was looking at Yoongi, the only person still standing now, with wide eyes.
Yoongi raised his eyebrows in question and nodded for him to go on.
Park Jimin cleared his throat and looked back at the room at large.
"Most of you may know me already but I was required to introduce myself formally in case there was any doubt."
There were chuckles all round.
"I am Park Jimin, eldest son of CEO and founder of PJ Entertainment, Park Jaehyun. I will be assuming duties as heir to the company next year and so hope you will treat me well..." He bowed to the loud applause that broke out.
Yoongi laughed in disbelief.
When Jimin straightened up he was smiling and suddenly exuded confidence, and as he resumed speaking his voice changed, becoming stronger and more authoritative. It matched his demeanor now. The crowd ate it up.
Of fucking course, it all made sense.
Jimin had not been just an entitled prat. He'd been the entitled prat. And to think Yoongi had worried about him getting caught by security. No wonder he'd laughed so much. Protocols don't really apply when it's your own house.
With one last look over his shoulder, Yoongi turned and strode out the doors and into the night, Park Jimin's voice floating down the porch steps with him.
He was still laughing to himself when he flagged down a taxi and told the driver how to get back home, safe in the knowledge that this would be the first and last time he encountered the nation's princeling.
Oh, how the universe delighted in proving him wrong.