Chapter Text
14/12/2036
Yoongi's shoulders shake and his knees burn as he kneels. The ground is surprisingly cold. His ears ache from the pulsing beats vibrating against the dancefloor. Some of the thrashing bodies, close to him, halt. Curious gazes fix on the kneeling young man and the tall figure looming over him. Yoongi closes his eyes and wills his lungs to take in a deep breath.
This..., he thinks, this should be humiliating enough.
But Kim Namjoon, rising underground rapper, and once upon a time a friend, doesn't think so.
With cold eyes, the rapper asks,"Why should I help you?"
Indeed. If anything Yoongi didn't expect him to listen at all. It’s already been a year since their friendship went to hell, and he had been the one to make that choice. But oh, well. Desperate times call for desperate measures and Yoongi's pride is nothing but a speck of dirt in the grand scheme of things. It’s been stepped on and spit on enough times he ought to get used to it: the begging.
“I’m begging you.” he pleads, with bile churning in his insides.
Namjoon’s fingers clench around the glass of whiskey in his hand, something flicks in his eyes, pity Yoongi shamelessly hopes. With cold eyes the rapper chugs his glass down.
“Why should I help you?” he repeats, almost spitting the words.
But it's not an outright 'No'.
“I’ll do anything.” Yoongi says, jaw clenched. He peers up at Namjoon, “I... I'll pay you back... eventually.” his voice wavers at the end and he wants to slap himself for it.
Namjoon huffs, "You're not inspiring much confidence there."
Yoongi winces and remains silent. The music changes, the beat slows down, the lights flick coloring Yoongi's face blue. He’s still kneeling, motionless and the crowd is still watching them, eyes locked on his back.
Maybe Namjoon is sick of them too. Maybe he’s sick of Yoongi and wants to get rid of him. Maybe it's the tremble in Yoongi’s voice and the dark bags under his eyes, Yoongi can't think of a reason Namjoon would care about any of that, but maybe Namjoon still cares. Heh. No, that’s probably wishful thinking on Yoongi’s part.
Either way, with pursed lips, the underground rapper pulls out a business card from his jacket and flips it on the ground, next to Min Yoongi’s flattened palms.
"I can't help you. But he might."
The name ‘TCE Coordinator KIM Seok-Jin’ is printed on the short paper in elegant scrawls, followed by two numbers, one in the same elegant printed writing while the other hastily scribbled with a pen and circled repeatedly.
Yoongi jumps towards it. He grips it with deft fingers, the expensive paper is smooth against his palm. A beat, two, understanding downs on him and then his face breaks into a smile. He snaps his head, bloodshot eyes, staring up in gratitude.
Namjoon is staring back at him in disbelief.
“...What the fuck happened to you?” he blurts and Min Yoongi freezes. "...where's the stuck up, prideful min Yoongi that I know?
Oh...How is he supposed to explain that? Yoongi glances down at the rapper’s expensive brand shoes and then at his own dirty second-hand sneakers. This isn't the time to wallow in envy and regret, he chides himself.
Heh. A self-deprecating laugh bubbles up in his throat.
How much more pathetic can he get?
“I had to adapt.” he manages to say after a while.
Namjoon’s hands clench at his sides. He takes a sudden step up, closer to Yoongi, only to retrace it just as sharply. Yoongi stares down at the ground. When he looks up again, Namjoon is already pushing his way through the dance floor, shoulders taut with something resembling anger. Yoongi loses sight of him as the crowd that was surrounding them disperses, their curiosity sated.
And maybe that’s for the best.
14/02/2035
“Stop!” Hoseok yelled and pulled Namjoon off Yoongi. “This won’t fix anything!” He screamed.
But they didn’t listen.
Yoongi spat the blood from his mouth, clenched his teeth to make sure they were all there and twisted around to leave.
“Don’t run away!” Namjoon screamed, “Yoongi! If you leave now, you don’t have the right to come back here ever again. You hear me?”
“Hyung!” Hoseok called out for him but Yoongi didn’t look back.
16/12/2036
Sometimes, when it’s 3am in the morning, and Yoongi can’t sleep, his thoughts drift back to that night. His hands clench around his head, cold sweat runs down his neck and the regret suffocates him.
If only Yoongi listened more, if only Namjoon reacted less, Hoseok would’ve been saved.