“Where are we going?” Jimin asked for the thousandth time. They had only been driving for fifteen minutes but he had already managed to piss off the one driving, as well as the other passenger.

“Goddamnit Jimin, if you ask one more time I will punch you!” Jungkook exclaimed from his place in the backseat, where he had been pouting because he didn’t get to sit in the front. Right now they were driving down one of the main streets of Seoul, and as Jimin looked outside everything seemed new, even though he had been here a thousand times before. How many new stores had popped up since he last was here? It had only been a week, after all.

“You can’t punch me,” Jimin countered the irritated Jungkook. “I am your hyung, and a victim of the horrible act of death. I recently lost a dear family member; if you hit me all of South Korea will hate you tomorrow. You’ll be posted in the Korea Herald as a heartless victim-abuser. You’ll be sent to jail.”

Jungkook had to restrain himself from jumping on Jimin from behind. If they hadn’t been in the car and his actions could possibly cause a car crash, he would have been attacking him by now. And he questioned himself, for the millionth time that day, why the hell he was friends with the guys he was currently with. Instead, he scowled at Jimin while muttering something about bad decisions and how he should have stayed home instead, as he listened to the radio, trying to block the irritating person in the front seat out. He had no idea how Taehyung survived with that person. Maybe it was because he could be just as bad himself. In the end, he concluded that he himself was the only sane person there, and he should have been on the lookout for normal friends instead of being where he currently was.

In the end, after what seemed like an eternity (but was more like twenty minutes due heavy traffic), Taehyung pulled into a car park. As he unbuckled his seatbelt Jimin remembered that he was supposed to sulk, and leant his head in his arms, which were resting on the window.

“I’m not going,” he objected like a five-year old kid in its rebel-stage. And he didn’t even know where they were going yet.

Taehyung closed his eyes and took a deep breath, not to scream at his best friend. Instead, he forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You. Come. NOW.” He said, his voice ice-cold. And Jimin, as bold as he was, quickly opened the door on the passenger-side and got out. How Taehyung could go from happy-go-lucky to frightening in ten seconds Jimin still had problems understanding, but he figured he was best not poking into it either way.

There were a lot of sounds Jimin made when he was unpleased, including “ugh”, “uuuuuh”, “neh”, “eheee”, and “Taehyuuuuung”. And all of those were muttered at least once when they were walking, though both Taehyung and Jungkook started ignoring Jimin a long time ago. Couldn’t he just get over that stupid hamster already?

They were walking down a busy street. The old grandmas and families that were out shopping on Saturdays had been replaced by people seeking the peaks of Seoul’s nightlife, and Taehyung and Jungkook were two of them. Jimin didn’t really count since he rather would be home and sulk. The night was clear, but though there were no clouds the lights from the million-city made the stars invisible. Sounds of people talking, cars honking as they passed by and music from different stores blended together in a well-known mix, showing the usually hidden colours of Seoul. Jimin looked at his feet as he walked, studying the white and golden patterns on his shoes. They were usual Nike Airs, and he’d worn them a thousand times before, but still they seemed more interesting than the bustling life that surrounded him. For the first time in forever, he didn’t feel like observing what was around him. He was too devastated by his sudden and crushing loss.

After a couple of minutes of walking, they ended up in front of a nightclub. And Jimin couldn’t believe Taehyung was actually going through with this. How could he mourn in a loud place like this?! It was like crying at a birthday-party. People didn’t do stuff like that. He was about to turn to Jungkook to seek help in this case – he knew the younger wasn’t a fan of clubs either. He wasn’t even allowed to enter one, technically. However, when he mentioned this to Taehyung, the latter replied that the age limit was 16 here.

But to Jimin’s surprise when he turned for support, Jungkook stood there with stars in his eyes. In the speed of light, he looked at Jimin, tugging his arm. “Let’s get in!” he said, eyes wide open. “They’re playing Girls Day!”

Of course. Jungkook’s never-ending love for Girls Day kicked in again. And Jimin knew from the bottom of his heart, that this fight was lost before he even started it. That was no help from that side, that was for sure.

He sighed. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, trailing behind a cheerful Taehyung who had turned into his happy self again, and a hyperactive Jungkook. There was a long line in front of the entrance, but Taehyung just whispered a couple of words to the bouncer and was let in immediately.

Jungkook furred his eyebrows. “How did you do that?” he asked, to which Taehyung just shrugged and showed him a mischievous smirk. And the youngest of the group had the feeling he wouldn’t be let in on the secret within the first hour or so.

It was loud. That was what struck Jimin. Usually, he loved places like this, and he hadn’t really noticed it before. He’d throw himself out on the dance floor, moving his body swiftly to the music until he dropped. He’d take in the visuals of all the people around him, but without remembering their faces afterwards. He would be blinded by the strobe lights that went off and on, flickering and changing colours. Pressed into hundreds of other people on the same floor as him, he would dance for all he was worth. Maybe that was why Taehyung had taken him here. To have fun through dancing. He had never been at this specific club before, so it had to be pretty new. But it was exclusive, even he could see that much.

In one way, he was now happy he had insisted they washed clothes to drag out the time. He had whined about wanting to wear that one Pigalle-shirt, which came in handy now that he was here. No one could blame him for not fitting in, at least. He turned his head upwards and looked around, taking in his surroundings. Maybe he’d pout locked in on the toilet.

“Come on, come on!” Jungkook tugged Taehyung’s shirt, dragging the latter along. And before Jimin noted what was happening, they had disappeared in the crowd. Great. Now he was alone, as well. He stood there for a good two minutes, wondering what he should do, until he decided it was best to seek a place where he wasn’t constantly bumped into. They had to have a bar here, right?

Jimin was right, because a couple of minutes later he sat on a barstool, his chin in his palm. He sighed unhappily as he carelessly looked through the drinks-catalogue. They really had everything here – alcohol for the legal ones, other alternatives for the underage group of people. And Jimin had, to be quite frank, never been really drunk before (he’d dozed off after three glasses of Soju, so he didn’t really think that counted). The only people he really hung out with were Jungkook and Taehyung, as sad as it was, and one of them couldn’t even drink. So because one couldn’t, the other two didn’t either. But Jimin was alone now. He had seen more than his share of dramas where the main character was sad and went to drink so he could forget. Jimin decided it was his time to become the main of his own drama, and quickly decided on a colourful drink that looked like it had alcohol in it.

He honestly didn’t think it was possible to get more depressed. But life proved him wrong once again, as he tried to order.

The bartender squinted suspiciously at him for a second, before he shook his head. “No way,” he said. “You’re not over the legal age, sir,”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t the tallest person around. But calling him a kid?! That was the one thing he didn’t accept. Angrily he reached for his wallet, where he kept his credit card. He couldn’t believe he had to show legitimation! But… it wasn’t there. He searched frantically through his pockets, just to remember his wallet was at home. Great. What did he do now? The bartender didn’t even believe him. And he probably couldn’t get a hold of Taehyung here either. As a matter of fact, that seemed impossible considering that he had been dragged away by Jungkook, probably to dance along to Girls Day. He was about to get up on the chair and scream that he was a goddamn 95-liner and that he was legal thank you very much, but he decided against it. He didn't want to be thrown out and taken in by the police for disturbing public order. He wasn't at that level yet.

Sighing, he ordered orange juice instead, putting on Taehyung’s tab. Here he was, 19 years old and well grown up, ordering orange juice. He didn’t feel like the main character of a drama at all.

“With cream on top,” he called out to the bartender who was pouring children’s juice in a glass. Just to annoy him, he was sure. Jimin decided that if he couldn’t be in his own drama, he was goddamn going to piss off the one stealing the role away from him. Not to mention the bartender didn’t look any older than himself. He had black hair and his bangs sometimes fell into his eyes. Jimin would very much like to deny it, but he wasn’t ugly. In fact, he was one of the more good-looking ones he had seen. But with that attitude? He could go jump in the ocean after Jimin’s affection, that was for sure.

As Jimin muttered under his breath about rude employees the bartender served him his orange juice with cream, and another person sat down beside him. Or rather, he was put there. Jimin stole a look at him from the corner of his eye, immediately noticing that he seemed to be just as depressed as himself. He debated whether he should approach the stranger, but put the thought away in the end. Too much trouble.

“And NO alcohol, Yoongi,” someone said. It wasn’t the stranger seated beside him, but the person who had placed him there.

The stranger – probably Yoongi, turned his head to the other. “What?” he exclaimed upset. “At first you drag me here to ‘help me’, and now you won’t even let me drown my own feelings? That’s unfair, Namjoon!”

“It’s not unfair,” Namjoon replied. “Last time you drank you tried to hit on a coat stand.”

“I was severely drunk and not depressed that time,” Yoongi defended himself.

“You had half a bottle of soju and your grandma had just died.”

“Ah, just go away already,” Yoongi muttered as he leant his head in his arms on the counter.

“In fact,” Namjoon replied a little offended, probably because Yoongi wanted him to go away. “I will go and find a dance partner that can match my levels of crumping, and you can sit an sulk here.”

“Thanks.”

And Namjoon walked off, leaving Yoongi there to brood. Jimin really felt sympathy with this guy – he saw himself in him. Being dragged to a place he didn’t want to be to be cheered up, not being allowed to be the main character of a drama when extremely depressed. He understood the pain.

Sighing, he sipped his juice. And he had to be honest: it wasn’t that bad. It was quite nice in fact. How the hell orange juice and cream fit he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t either, but he embraced it with open arms. He’d just pretend it was an exotic drink instead.

The guy beside him, Yoongi, turned to him slowly as Jimin let out a sound of frustration. “hey, are you okay?” he asked. Jimin, who had not expected him to talk to him – much less initiate the contact, looked up with surprised eyes.

“What? Yes… I guess.” He answered, studying Yoongi’s face. He had dark red hair, but somehow it fit him. Jimin didn’t really care about hair and such, but he especially noticed it on Yoongi. He had those kind of eyes that stared into your soul as well. That guy seemed like a deep person. His skin was really pale and his lips looked unusually pink against it. Jimin decided that if the bartender looked nice, this guy was like goddamn… he was just really hot. Sadly, no hot boys ever swung Jimin’s way.

Yoongi’s eyebrows crept together at Jimin’s reply. “You don’t look okay,” he noted.

Jimin hadn’t intended to. But he did anyways. “My hamster died and my best friends dragged me here to get over it though I’m trying to lament and now I can’t even be the main character of my own drama because the bartender thinks I’m underage.” Wow. Way to lash out his feelings on someone who already seemed to be sad, and probably only asked him out of courtesy. Jimin believed he deserved an award for that one. Award for tactlessness. Even Taehyung, the supreme king of inconvenient moments would probably hit him for that. Slowly he felt hotness creep into his cheeks, and for once he thanked god that the lights kept on flickering and changing, so no one could see it.

But instead, Yoongi nodded slowly. “I feel you. I’ve been praying for my dead computer to come back to life the past week, but no response. ALL my work over four years was there. And now they drag me out here. It’s sad, really,” he sighed.

“You understand!” Jimin exclaimed. Finally someone who realized what Jimin had been trying to say all along! “They just can’t take my mourning seriously!”

“’It’s just some samples,’ they tell me. How can it be a sample when I worked three years with it?” Yoongi shook his head, dropping it into his arms that rested on the countertop.

“’Hamsters don’t do much anyways’. He was my mental support! He doesn’t need to do stuff to listen to me when I need it.” Jimin joined in.

Yoongi turned his head just enough to show his left eye to Jimin. “I feel you,” he agreed.