Part I 
A thief for your heart 

Jimin’s eyes scan the street and its passerbys. He’s leaning against a stone wall, cool against the thin cotton of his back, and it soothes him, not only against the humid weather but also against the possibility of getting thieved.

After all, he’s meant to be doing the stealing, not the other way around.

Jimin is a professional pickpocketer along the streets of Hongdae. Or so he tells himself.

The last time he had tried to make that claim, Taehyung had burst out laughing so hard that he had fallen off his seat and turned the shade of brick red. Jimin would have been worried about his health if it wasn’t for the fact Taehyung had been laughing at him.

“What’s wrong with that,” Jimin had said rather mulishly as he watched Taehyung roll around the floor.

“What’s wrong with that?” Taehyung had sat up and wiped away the tears at the corner of his eyes. “You? A professional pickpocketer?”

“Yeah,” Jimin had raised his chin high, unwilling to back down.

“Jimin,” Taehyung had said between laughs. “You’ve never even stolen a wallet before. Jungkook can steal better than you can, and he’s seventeen!”

Hmpf. Jeon stinking Jungkook. Just because he’s got a better sleight of hand than Jimin does.

Jimin grits his teeth and returns his gaze to the morning crowd. He’s going to steal a wallet today if it’s the last thing he does and make Taehyung bite his words.

Ah. There.

A male. Strolling along at such a casual pace that's he almost asking to be stolen from. Jimin takes a moment to profile him. He’s pretty good-looking, all soft pale skin and dyed red hair that goes unfairly well with his ripped jeans and jacket. Probably in his early twenties or late teens. He carries no bag, but his jean pockets bulge slightly. 

Right. That’s it. He’s going to be Jimin’s target.                                        

Jimin slips off his perch against the cold wall and fluidly integrates himself into the crowd. He angles himself like a fish in a stream until he’s diagonally a few meters away from the man. Up close Jimin can see the gold that glints at his lobes. They make Jimin bite his lower lips in hopes that there’s something equally shiny in his pocket.  

He takes a step backwards, letting the woman in a business suit move past with her clunky bag and large handphone in which she is speaking motor words a minute into. As she goes he swivels past her and another man with grey in his hair. Now he’s right behind his target.

Jimin does his best not to puff out his chest. If there’s any trump card he holds above Jungkook, it’s his ability to zero in on a target. He’s always had a talent for moving silently but smoothly, knowing how to hold and lock each of his muscles and control them so that he makes no unnecessary movements. Jungkook is good at it as well, but he’s always had a perchance for knocking into things at the critical moment. Namjoon tells him that it’s because maknae is still growing and getting used to his limbs, so Jimin please shut up and go practice your sleight of hand skills because you still at that.

But today is the day Jimin proves Namjoon wrong.

Jimin speeds up half a beat so that he is now less than a meter away from his target. His eyes are fixated on the left pocket. He’s certain it’s a wallet, small, square in shape. His target wears skinny jeans which is going to make slipping the wallet out slightly harder but Jimin can do it. Jimin can totally do it.

He’s got to do it quickly though, or else it’ll look like he’s groping someone else’s , and Jimin doesn’t want a rep for that. Though on second glance, this guy does have a pretty nice .

Nope, nope. Jimin is only after the wallet. Not some , no matter how nice it is.

Another half a step and Jimin is centimeters behind his target. His hand half slips out of his jacket pocket, just enough to be at the ready to slip and grab, but not enough to look suspicious.

And just as he’s about to go for it-

His target takes a left turn and breaks away from the main stream of the crowd, moving into the smaller streets that branch towards the cafes and restaurants.  

Dammit. Jimin twists his way free of the crowd and follows him. Now he’s got to start all over. He should have noted the way his target was looking up at the street signs. But it’s okay. It’s not over just yet. This street is slightly emptier and darker, the street lights more interspersed. It’ll be easier to catch up to him.

Jimin hurries his pace, side stepping a woman and her daughter, and there he is. His target looks like he’s stopping to pick up his phone.

“Hey Hoseok, I’ll be home a little late, s’that okay? Oh, you’re out with Seokjin? Cool.” His target has a low, smooth voice. Definitely accented. Daegu maybe? It’s a nice voice, Jimin thinks. He wonders what his name would sound like in this stranger’s mouth.

The thought makes heat race to his cheeks. Focus Jimin! he scolds himself and draws a quick one, two, three breaths.

“Mm okay, catch you then.”

His target has finished speaking and is slipping his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans. He’s brushed back his jacket in doing so and Jimin has a perfect view of his wallet. Yup. Definitely a wallet. And a nice fat one. It peeks just above the pocket lining and Jimin can so grab that and go.

His target is walking now, heading back for the main streets. Jimin slips into the shadows behind him and he knows that if he’s ever going to make his move, it’s now. His hand snakes out and is hovering right above the goods. He’s got it all planned out in his head. Bump into the target, flick aside the jacket with one hand, and grab the wallet and stuff it into his loose jacket pocket with the other. Apologize quickly, briefly, and then go. It’s perfect.

So Jimin goes for it. Pushes off his right foot heavily enough to bump into the guy and-

A hand snakes around Jimin’s wrist and before he knows it he’s being dragged into an alleyway and slammed against the wall.

Hot breath fans against his cheeks. “Thought you could steal from me huh kid,” someone hisses and Jimin opens his eyes to come face to face with his target. Except in like a complete role reversal.

His target’s got Jimin trapped between his body and a brick wall, and in the fading light of a Thursday evening in Hongdae, no one is going to bother them unless he screams. And there is no way Jimin is screaming. Not a chance. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jimin says tightly, going for ignorant.

His target, or not so target, scoffs. “Don’t lie to me kid. You’ve been following me since the station. I could hear you stumbling the entire way. You stopped when I stopped and moved when I moved. You gonna tell me that’s a coincidence?

Jimin’s cheeks heat. His target heard him? And then led him on a merry chase? If Taehyung ever learns of this he’s never going to hear the end of it.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?” His target bends down to stare him straight in the eyes. His eyes are dark and seem to see right through him.  

“I’m…sorry…” Jimin says, feeling shame twist itself a straightjacket around his lungs.

The boy in front of him smirks, deep and full. Jimin wants nothing more than to wipe it right off his face.

His chuckle tickles Jimin’s nose. “I hope you’ve learnt your lesson,” he says and lets go of his grip on Jimin’s wrist. Jimin rubs at it and mutters underneath his breath.

“Don’t let me catch you stealing again. You can do so much better than that,” he says, all wise guy serious and Jimin makes a face that the stranger catches and laughs at.

“See you,” he says and strolls off, humming something under his breath.

Jimin just can’t let it go like that.

“I’m Jimin,” he yells after the stranger, making him halt and half turn. “What’s your name?”

The stranger smirks again. “Why would I tell you such a thing?”

“Because I need to know the name of the guy I’m going to get back at,” Jimin huffs, lunging forwards and swiping the phone in the stranger’s front pocket. He opens the contacts and quickly types in a number, much to the stranger’s protest. “There,” he says with much satisfaction as he presses the save button. He even bothers to take a quick selca so that his new target can match name to face. 

Target takes back the phone between two fingers with a look of disdain. “Now why would I want your number?” he says slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“You know my name and number now, so tell me yours,” Jimin demands, holding out a hand. “It’s only fair.”

His target looks at him for half a second like he's a complete nutter or something before spinning around and ignoring Jimin’s hand. “Nope. Can’t be bothered. Goodnight,” he says and starts walking away.

“Nooo!” Jimin whines and grabs him shoulder, tugging the red head back. “That’s not fair.”

“Ouch! My hair! Don’t pull at the jacket. It’s new!” His target hisses, turning around and swiping at Jimin’s hand to let him go. “Fine, my name is Yoongi. Min Yoongi. Got it? Now leave me alone.” Yoongi snorts and heads for home. Wait till he tells Hoseok and Seokjin over dinner what a crazy person he met today.

Jimin on the other hand pumps his fist, pleased at his success. He may have failed stealing something from Min Yoongi this time, but he’s going to do better. He's got his name. Now he’s going to steal something much greater next time.

His number. 

Jimin pauses. “But what if he doesn't call me?” he wonders aloud and then trips over nothing at the realization. He turns around and chases after Yoongi’s retreating back in the darkening roads of Hongdae.

“Hyuuuung, wait for me!” he cries. “Want to get dinner?”