Yoongi unlocks the door of his apartment and turns on the lights. They flicker down the corridor with a white marble floor. When he steps inside, all he sees is a palette of white and black – no undertones, no shades. On the walls hang Picasso and Dali's masterpieces – the only patch of color in the cold penthouse.

He drops his keys in a crystal bowl on the shoe rack along with invitations to exclusive parties happening all around Korea in the next three weeks. A vast majority of them won't even be opened. Heavy beige envelopes made of expensive paper will remain sealed, their sender disappointed when they don't notice Yoongi among the guests in sinful nights when champagne runs in rivers and every mistake is the right one, when strawberries covered with dark chocolate are the perfect combination of bitter and sweet and diamonds caress milky skin of their owners' neck.

Yoongi leaves his jacket on the sofa. Loosening his tie, he makes his way to the kitchen to fix himself a drink. Ice cubes hit the thin walls of a glass and the sound echoes in the room. Than he pours in whiskey. More than any bartender would pour even for their most loyal guest.

As he drinks, he watches the city nearly a hundred meters below him. Lamps are lining the streets instead of trees, their milky light giving a romantic note to the endless concrete. Passers-by seem like dots, chaotically moving, never quite reaching their destination.

Alcohol burns down his throat every time he swallows. It's just enough to blur wrong numbers that have appeared in the reports, but it's barely enough to forget the names of the employees who have made the mistakes.

Through the glass he can't see life happening behind brick walls, blooming in the last parks that the city still has. Through the glass he sees a tsunami of concrete stretching from one edge of the horizon to the other, successfully caging everything on its path.

The phone rings. Once, twice, too many times. Yoongi decides not to pick it up. Instead, the automatic voice of the answering machine greets the caller.

“... please, leave a message after a beep.”

“Sweetie, it was not nice of you to cancel the lunch in the last moment,” a familiar voice says.

Yoongi closes his eyes and listens to the syllables rolling off his aunt's tongue.

“I hope you won't do that the next time,” she says. “We safely came back, the trip was wonderful, but too short. You know how your uncle can be – nothing ever suits him.”

Yoongi smirks. This is a story that he has heard one too many times.

His uncle is a dictionary example of the word “snob” while his aunt doesn't care about the amount of money she has on her bank account as long as she gets to enjoy small things like vacation in Busan or Gwangju and a train ride home.

This phone call is one of the rare ones Yoongi doesn't mind having, so he picks up the phone.

“... he promised that he'd call. I hope that he will,” his aunt sighs at the other end of the line. A lovely woman, she is, caught in some better times when friends were cherished as much as family members and when money wasn't the currency for everything,  even life.

“And who's he?” Yoongi asks, just to please her because he can tell that she wouldn't have called late at night in she hasn't seen something that took her breath away or met somebody who fitted her circle of friends perfectly.

“Yoongi, you're there. I'm glad. He's a boy that I met on the train.”

Yoongi asks “Aren't you tired of breaking a young man's heart?” and she giggles. If they were sitting next to each other, she'd slap him lightly on the arm and try to hide her blushing cheeks.

“Stop it, Yoongi!” she exclaims. “Don't tease your old aunt. He's your age, maybe even younger, and we talked the whole ride home. Jimin's such a nice young man. And guess what?”

“He proposed to you?” Yoongi jokes.

“Oh silly. Of course not. He's a self-taught artist. Isn't that wonderful?”

Yoongi can almost feel his aunt's excitement, as if it travels through the optic cables along with her voice. It's captivating, in a way.

“I guess,” he replies. “But drawing won't take him far in life.”

“You're always so serious. Money isn't everything, Yoongi. There are other things that should be cherished.”

“I know, auntie, but...”

“No but's. Think about it, Yoongi. And visit me soon. Good night, darling.”

And so, she hangs up.

Yoongi stares at the city, at his reflection in the glass.

There are other things to be cherished, but money can buy all of them. Every single one.

▼▼▼

“What's the plan?” Jimin asks once they're settled in Taehyung's apartment.

Taehyung pulls a city map from one of the drawers of his work desk and spreads it on the floor. Hoseok comes from the kitchen carrying cans of cold Coca-Cola and he tosses one at Taehyung who catches it without looking up from the map. Hoseok smiles as he sits on the floor and passes the drink to Jimin.

“Red are the lines that are the most frequent ones during the day, blue are the night lines,” Taehyung says as he takes the first sip of the drink. Jimin's sitting opposite him on the floor. The can is cold in his hands, condensation on the thin aluminium walls is making his fingers slippery.

“Aren't we doing the stations?” he asks and Taehyung shakes his head.

“Change of plan. Tdoggs are doing that and they have enough members to form a small army, so there's really no point in arguing with them,” Taehyung shrugs.

New information throws things out of balance. Jimin has been counting on few hours to make the graffiti. All his sketches are made with that thought in mind. But Taehyung is right. There are too many members in Tdogg. Picking up a fight with them could lead to the problems with the police and possible arrests.

“Now what?” he asks.

Taehyung grins back like a Cheshire Cat and Jimin stops spinning the can between his fingers. He knows Taehyung well enough to assume what the new plan is and there's no way he'll agree to it.

“We do it the old school style,” Taehyung says.

There's excitement in his voice, rebellion in his irises and Jimin doesn't need to look at him to know how wide his grin is.

“No ing way, Tae. You're nuts,” Jimin snaps.

“Why not? It'd be like in the good old days.”

“Don't you remember that they caught us and that you had to beg your grandpa to bail us out? We're not doing it again.”

“You're such a drama queen, Jimin. It'll be fine, I promise. A little red bird has told me that there would be a blackout,” Taehyung says, turning to Hoseok who rolls his eyes.

“You're so subtle, Tae,” he deadpans. Jimin doesn't miss the sarcasm in his voice, but Taehyung looks entirely pleased with himself. As always.

“Here's the thing, Jimin,” Hoseok says, reaching forward so that his fingers follow metro lines as he talks. “Lines 1 and 3 will be out of function for five hours this Friday from 1 to 6 a.m. All teams know this so it might be a little crowded.”

Line 1 passes through the city center and goes to suburbia. It's mostly used by workers and students. Line 3 rounds exclusive neighborhoods and it's never crowded because the dirty rich don't mingle with ordinary people and nobody sane would trade a silver car with a chauffeur for public transportation.

Hoseok's fingers tap on the station in the heart of the city. “Start position,” he mutters and moves his fingers north. “Final stop.”

Jimin bites his lips, the inside of his cheeks. The plan is too good to be true, but at the same time it's too tempting and he can't back down. Possibilities are endless with five hours at his disposal.

“C'mon, Jimin,” Taehyung pleads, his voice a notch higher, filled with aegyo. It's absolutely disgusting and before Taehyung does the flower petal pose, Jimin finds himself saying “Yes”.

▼▼▼

At midnight, subway stations in the outskirts of Daegu turn to shelters for homeless people while night guards doze off in the cabins used to selling tickets during the day.

Trains arriving from the center are full of workers returning home after the second shift has ended, their shoulders are hunched under the weight of numerous years of work under bosses who never fully appreciate their efforts.

Trains leaving the station are usually empty save for a few lost souls searching their place in the concrete jungle, under the indigo sky.

Am 1 a.m., stations in the heart of the city aren't buzzing with life, they're silent.

Jimin is looking at the girl sitting on a metal bench not far away. She's furiously typing messages on her phone as the music from the headphones hanging around her neck disturbs the silence.

Taehyung glances at his watch. He taps on the screen to check whether it's still working because it doesn't show the same time as the digital one positioned above the timetable on the wall. His watch is few minutes late.

“It's here,” Hoseok says as the lights of the last train can be seen in the tunnel. They step forward, closer to the yellow line marking the danger zone. Jimin fixes the straps of his backpack.

At this moment, Taehyung wanders to the bench where the girl is sitting. He drops his bag on the seat beside her and she jerks her head up in surprise.

“Hello,” he says, smile on his face. She looks at him with fear reflecting in her eyes.

“What do you want?” she snaps.

“Don't take this train, pretty lady. It might stop in the tunnel and bad things could happen.”

He wants to warn her, but subtlety has never been Taehyung's strong suit and she slips her hand in her purse searching for something. Probably pepper spray. She doesn't get the chance to use it because the train has arrived and Hoseok is calling him.

A few people get off, the carriages are empty. They're the only ones that enter and as the train leaves the station, the girl opens the contact list on her phone and calls the police.

▼▼▼

Yoongi spends Thursday going over the last minute changes of the contract he's supposed to sign with the Jung Company from Gwangju. He wouldn't be forced to do it if some papers haven't magically disappeared on their way there.

Seokjin told him that that was the fault of the regional post office and that there was absolutely nothing he could do to find them.

“I can always offer bribe to a chief or two, but you wouldn't like that, would you?” he asked Yoongi as he dropped the files on his desk. Yoongi waved him away and now, few hours later, he finally has something solved.

Around 3 in the afternoon, Namjoon walks in his office.

“Where's your tie?” Yoongi asks as Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the leather sofa in the corner of the room. “This isn't your shrink's office,” he adds before Namjoon has the chance to reply.

“Don't worry, you're no a shrink material so I won't confess my deepest sins to you,” Namjoon says with a smile. “And my tie is on cleaning.”

“Let me guess – a Greenpeace supporter threw red paint on you because you wore fur?”

“Nice guess, hyung,” Namjoon laughs. “But no. Hyuna spilled hot coffee on me.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Suits you right. I -”

“Don't say it,” Namjoon interrupts him and covers his eyes with his hand.

“I told you so, Namjoon.”

▼▼▼

Yoongi's phone rings in an ungodly hour of the night. He rolls on his back and for a few seconds he debates with himself whether to pick it up. A part of him hopes that the ringing will stop before he makes up his mind, but the caller is persistent and with a sigh, Yoongi reaches for his phone.

“Halo?” he says.

On the other side of the line, there's static and rustling of papers and if Namjoon locked himself in the office once again, Yoongi swears to God that he won't -

“Yoongi?” a trembling voice says and Yoongi sits upright in his bed.

“Auntie, did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, sweetie. And your uncle is fine as well.”

“What's wrong then?“

A moment of silence for Yoongi to collect his thoughts, for his aunt to think of the right words. He glances at the clock on his nightstand. Red digits are showing 3:45 in the morning.

“I need your help, Yoongi,” she says. “Please don't turn down the wish of your aunt. Think of this as a present for me. Will you do it?”

Yoongi sighs. “Fine. What is it about?”

▼▼▼

7 a.m. finds Yoongi standing in front of a police station near the city hall. Just like everything around it, the building is made of layers upon layers of tinted glass on a metal construction. The lines are sharp, unwelcome and cold. But then again, the building of his own company is awfully similar in design and Yoongi wonders if coldness comes with the man in charge.

Glass doors slide open to let him in and if there are reporters waiting for a press conference, he'd probably end up on the magazine cover along with whoever is the new psycho roaming the streets.

It is said that any publicity is good publicity, but Yoongi would hate to see his face under the headline “Connections between local authorities and business men lead to rise of corruption by 2.8% in the last quarter of the year”.

The woman behind the information desk eyes him oddly because to her, he probably looks like a deer caught in headlights. So painfully out of place, he seems.

“Excuse me,” he says and she offers him a trained polite smile. “Who can I speak with about the men arrested last night?”

▼▼▼

The prison cell looks nothing like Jimin remembered it to be. The guard is chatting idly with Taehyung about the last week's football matches. The team that they both have been cheering for lost and the guard still can't get over 10 thousands won that he lost. Taehyung assures him that they'll win for sure the next time and if bars weren't separating them, he'd hug the man.

Hoseok has been released a few hours ago through some connections his father pulled but Taehyung and Jimin are a totally different story.

Jimin isn't from Daegu and there were no relatives that he could call and Taehyung wasted his free phone call on his landlord to ask her to feed his cat while he's way.

Seeing that there's no use in just waiting, Jimin decided to call the lady that he met on the train. It's definitely not the best idea he ever had, but it was better than nothing and the lady seemed like she liked him, but there was no way he could know how far her desire to help him would go. She picked up the phone after Jimin had lost all hope and patiently listened as he explained the situation.

“And now we're in jail,” he said and expected her to hang up right then, right there. But she didn't.

“Oh dear,” he gasped. “Don't worry! I'll help you.”

By the time the morning came, Jimin has counted all manuals on the shelves in the guard's office and memorized the position of all objects on the guard's desk.

With a sigh, he looks at the round clock hanging above the entrance when the door flies open and a policeman followed by a man in his mid-twenties enters.

The policeman hands the guard the files which he just glances at before grinning at Taehyung and saying, “You're free to go.”

Taehyung claps just like a kid on his birthday party and Jimin wonders if the guard meant both of them or just Taehyung.

The guard unlocks the cell and doesn't stop Jimin from stepping outside. As they bow to him, he says, “I hope I won't see you boys here again.”

After signing the papers and getting their things back, they follow the police officer up the flight of stairs and to the lobby where he leaves them with the young man.

“Which one of you is Jimin?” the man asks and Jimin feels too small under his heavy gaze. Just like in elementary school, he raises his hand.

“You're coming with me,” the man says. “And you -”

“Taehyung, sir.”

“I don't care. You're free to go.”

“But -” Jimin tries to protest but he's cut off.

“My aunt has asked to see you once you're released. Your friend can go, but you're coming with me.”

The man's voice is rough, all syllables sharp. Jimin can't see his eyes through the black lenses of his sunglasses.

“That's okay,” Taehyung says. “I'll see you later, Jimin.”

And he's out the door before Jimin could utter another word. He stares after Taehyung as the glass doors slide shut once again. He understands Taehyung's reaction, there's something about this man that leaves no room for disagreement.

“Let's go,” the man says and Jimin follows him out of the police station.

it's been a while. i'm sorry for the lack of updates, i got caught up with real life. OTL

i hope that you enjoyed this chapter! ^^