You gulp. Focus.

You thought you’d be going to the hidden room, but no, you’re in Namjoon’s personal quarters. And you’re understandably terrified.

Even though the room isn’t filled with firearms, drug money and instruments of torture like you feared somewhere deep inside, you’re still on edge. In reality, Namjoon’s bedroom is clean but packed with books—two walls of floor-to ceiling shelves, and a smaller shelf by his desk. You wonder how he has time to read for pleasure with his busy schedule. Aside from that, the room is elegantly furnished, but sparse. No pictures, no personal mementos. The only odd thing you notice is an empty bottle of champagne on his bedside table.

“Your target is Park Chanyeol,” The God of Destruction adjusts his glasses and hands you a photo of a very handsome young man. You snap back to attention. “He’s the son of the CEO of the Rosewood Hotel chain, went missing a month ago and is believed to harbor ties with Bigbang. His parents are worried he’s become a gangster. That’s where you come in.”

“I get it, takes an animal to sniff out another of its kind,” You note that Yoongi, compared to you, is rather lax. Bored, even. He rubs his chin in thought.

“W-well, at least someone’s parents care about them, amirite?” You quip, all nerves.

“He can tell us something, then,” Yoongi murmurs, ignoring you.

“Hopefully. To be clear, he is not to be harmed in any fashion. We’re being contracted by his parents to bring him back. There’s a sizeable bounty as well as assured relations with his father’s company if you can pull this off.”

“Great, so this isn’t a real job, it’s an mission,” Yoongi groans. “If he was a hostage, this would be more interesting.”

If that’s his definition of ‘interesting’, he needs a new dictionary.

“He very well could be. We don’t know what he’s up to. But his file contains a list of places he frequents, friends, financial records. He’s actually been out of their sight longer than a month, but no one was suspicious until he stopped using his parents’ credit cards.”

“Damn rich people,” you roll your eyes.

Namjoon’s laser-sharp gaze turns to you, and you tense. “This shouldn’t be too dangerous, but make sure you keep a gun on you at all times. We wouldn’t want any premature departures from our agreement,” a Cheshire grin engulfs Namjoon’s face.

“Understood,” you bite out.

“Peachy,” Namjoon takes off his glasses and gestures to the door. “The clients are on pins and needles, so find that boy as fast as you can. I’m tired of their ing.”

“Piece of cake, c’mon.” Suga strolls out the door, and you do a hasty bow before scurrying after him.

~~

“Are you sure we’re allowed to take this thing?” You ask nervously. “Isn’t there another vehicle we can use?”

“There is,” Yoongi smirks maliciously. “But this should make our job more interesting.”

“I might regret asking, but… how?”

“It’ll be a high-stakes challenge,” Yoongi deadpans. You’re still confused.

Yoongi slams the trunk, now loaded with supplies, and slides into the driver’s seat of the very same van you were first whisked away in. It may be your imagination, but there seem to be a few more bullet holes in its doors than last time. You reluctantly get in and fasten your seatbelt.

“Full disclosure,” Yoongi begins as he starts the ignition. “If we damage this car, Hoseok will hunt us down and shoot us in the head, no questions asked.”

“But it’s already pretty beat up?”

He just clicks his tongue. “He’ll count the bullet holes and repay us in kind.”

Your blood runs ice-cold. You stare at Yoongi’s stoic profile. “You… you’re not kidding.”

“Why would I?” Yoongi pulls out of the underground parking structure, and you shield your eyes from the blinding daylight. “Hoseok is particular about the strangest things. He values this piece of van more than he values human life.” Your mouth drops open and you eye the door. Maybe I can escape at a stoplight with my life.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, he’s asleep now. Judging on his arrival time last night and his most recent job, we have a good sixteen hours ‘til Armageddon.”

You groan. You were feeling a bit better after Yoongi was so nonplussed about the amount of danger involved in this job, but now your stomach is rolling with anxiety. Your hand jumps to the gun strapped to your waist. Burning a hole into your skin. You’re sweating.

“Map,” Yoongi says curtly, handing you the list of Park Chanyeol’s likely hangout spots. “I need you to navigate. You have a good memory, yeah?”

“Relatively,” you answer hesitantly, eyeing the list. For some reason, the name of the third restaurant catches your eye. “Let’s start with Kang Chul’s on xxx St. Do you mind?”

“Nope. You’re the navigator, I’ll leave it to you. Just remember, if you take too much time, we die.” Yoongi smiles sweetly.

You rub your temples, glancing over the list again. Is this the right choice? What if this is a huge waste of time? “Maybe we should go in the order they’re listed instead, to save time…” you muse.

“Listen,” Yoongi fiddles with the radio and settles on a hip hop station, looking straight ahead as he barrels through the streets. “If you’re not positive that we can do this in sixteen hours, you’ll be a hindrance to this mission. We can’t afford doubts. I’m a genius, obviously, and you’re not half bad. Have some confidence.”

Strangely enough, those words were comforting. You took a breath. “Turn right up here,” you instruct.

You park the van a few blocks from the little dive bar, pulling your jacket tightly around yourself to ward off the early autumn chill. Suga puts up his hood and slides his face mask over his nose. “Let’s go.”

Kang Chul’s is a hole in the wall, easily overlooked in the mass of shops and buzz of activity of downtown Seoul. But upon entering, you can see why a rich CEO’s son might favor it, especially if he’s a bit of a rebellious hipster.

Unlike most of the bars you’ve been to, this one is impeccably clean. The hardwood floors gleam, the furniture is eclectic, but high quality. There’s a circular display of records to choose from near the leather couches, and a rare pinball machine and game of Street Fighter by the door. This is the kind of place that wants to appear comfy and well-worn, but there’s obviously lots of money involved in its upkeep.

A handsome man wearing a button-up in his late twenties wipes the bar carefully. It’s early in the day, so the bar just opened and there are no customers, but he seems to be preparing for their arrival. You and Yoongi linger by the door. “Do we have a plan?” You whisper to Suga.

“We get him to talk,” he answers.

You think for a moment. “I have an idea. Follow my lead.” To your surprise, Suga doesn’t question you, he simply nods in agreement. You feel a tinge of warmth at his trust in you.

You approach the bar, taking a seat gracefully on the leather barstools. You cross your legs, put your chin in your hands and look up at the barkeep. He smiles affably. “What can I get you?”

“Whiskey on the rocks,” you chirp. “Nice place, by the way.”

“Thanks. But isn’t it a bit early? Your boyfriend will have to drag you home in broad daylight.” The man’s eyes fall to Suga, who leans against the wall a ways away, his expression unfathomable.

“Ha, boyfriend?” You chuckle and wave dismissively “Bodyguard. You know how it is. And my philosophy is that it’s never too early to have a little fun.” You bat your eyelashes, squeeze your s together to emphasize your cleavage. You’re laying it on a little thick, but you hope he’s buying it.

The barkeep raises an eyebrow, but reaches for a glass. “Any particular reason to celebrate?”

“No, the opposite, actually,” you puff out your cheeks, then slowly sigh. The barkeep sets down your whiskey on the rocks and you raise it toward him in a silent toast before tossing it back in one go. It’s a gamble. You have a high tolerance for alcohol, but too much at this point could be damaging to the mission. “Another,” you declare.

“Must be rough,” the barkeep comments.

You lay your head on your folded arms, acting as if the alcohol hits you harder than it does. “I just… wish Chanyeol would get along better with his parents.”

“Chanyeol?”

“My boyfriend,” you mutter miserably. “He dropped off the grid. He even stopped using his credit cards. His parents are saying he…” you fall silent, fidgeting as if you’re worried about disclosing this information. The barkeep leans in, obviously interested. You take another gulp of your drink, then speak in a whisper. “They think he’s become a gangster.”

The second glass of whiskey hits the table and the barkeep hums, eyeing you quizzically. “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Park Chanyeol?”

You shoot your feet, leaning over the bar excitedly and getting close to his face. “You know Yeol?”

The barkeep studies you silently for a few seconds. Your stomach clenches, but you keep the dopey look on your face intact for all you’re worth. He smirks. “We go way back. I’m surprised he’s never told me about you, you’re an… interesting one.” You catch him eyeing your chest. “Much different from his usual type, Miss…?”

“Bomi,” your best friend’s name is the first thing that comes to mind as you bow slightly, giggling. “You probably know already, but Yeol can be shy about the silliest things. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Bomi-ssi, it’s a pleasure. I’m Jong Suk.” The man bows back.

“Jong Suk oppa,” you purr, “you wouldn’t happen to know where my Yeol went off to?”

Jong Suk folds his arms, thinking. “I haven’t seen him in the past few weeks. But if I had to guess, I’d say he’s holed up in a hotel somewhere. His parents have been sending all sorts of people after him.” The man gently squeezes your shoulder, “but you’d know about all that, wouldn’t you?” He winks.

A chill shoots up your spine. What is he insinuating?

Yoongi loudly cracks his knuckles and takes a step toward the bar, ready to intervene. You hold up your hand to stop him. You can’t read Jong Suk, but you won’t give up now. You fake a tired sigh. “All I know is that I want him back,” you stare into Jong Suk’s eyes. “If you could tell me anything else, I’d be eternally grateful, Oppa.”

Seemingly amused, the man lets out a soft chuckle. “To be owed a debt of gratitude from a beautiful lady, how could I resist?” He leans in close to your ear and whispers lowly. “You’ll want some food after those shots, there’s a great soondae place three blocks West from here.” He then blows a puff of air into your ear and you stumble backwards, nearly falling over if not for Suga, who props you up with a stoic expression.

“That’s a cute flustered face,” Jong Suk grins like a cat. “I’ll consider that payment enough for the booze. Best of luck finding that boyfriend of yours.”

“We’re leaving,” Suga mutters under his breath. You nod, plastering on a big fake smile as you bow and stumble out of the bar, leaning on your ‘bodyguard’ for support.

“Wouldn’t trust that guy as far as I could throw him,” Yoongi growls once you’re back on the street. He flicks your forehead. “And yah, what an alcoholic, could you try not to get smashed on the job?”

“I’m fine,” you roll your eyes. “Let’s get some street food.”

“Excuse me, Boozer?”

“Jong Suk said that we could find Park Chanyeol if we go to a soondae stall near here,” you clarify. “I think we should take a look.”

Suga frowns. “Would he really be somewhere like that?”

“One way to find out.”

~~

Jong Suk wipes your glass as he watches you and Suga leave the bar. His rolled-up sleeves reveal a small, elegant tattoo of an apple on his forearm. “That guy’s not built like a bodyguard,” he notes. “And her…”

Your face is unmistakable to him. Must be family resemblance.

The young man pulls out his cell, dialing within seconds. “Inform Seung-hyun that I’ve spotted her. Yes. She just left the bar.” He runs his free hand through his hair. “Only one at the moment. I’m sending them to Park Chanyeol, follow them.”

Ending the call, Jong Suk can’t suppress a smirk. If his superior’s hunch is right, Bigbang’s collision with Bangtan may be close at hand.

~~

“Seems this is it.” Suga points out.

You can smell the Soondae before you see the stall, and it makes your stomach grumble. “Would it be completely inappropriate to actually buy food?” You ask timidly, meeting your companion’s gaze with sparkling eyes.

“I dunno why you’re asking me after you just went for that alcohol back there,” Suga grumbles.

“I’m sorry, okay?” You puff out your cheeks in annoyance. “I just thought it’d be less suspicious if I got something. He didn’t even make me pay for it, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “‘Oppaaa, won’t you give me these drinks for free if I shove my s in your face?’ That was quite a sophisticated interrogation tactic—“

“What should I have done, then?” You shoot back. “Did you want me to just shoot the gu—?“

Yoongi clamps a hand over your mouth. “Don’t say stuff like that in public, are you crazy?” You fall silent at his harsh words, your shoulders slumping. Yoongi glances at you, slightly apologetic, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Let’s get some soondae.”

The delicious scent of fried food grows stronger as you get closer, and you’re greeted by a young man with big, striking eyes and strong eyebrows. He’s handsome, and around the right age, but he doesn’t match the reference photos of Park Chanyeol. “What can I get for you?”

“Two orders of soondae, please,” Suga slaps down the required amount and you panic a bit.

“I can pay! Seriously—“

“Quiet down,” Suga takes the food, handing one plate to you without looking in your direction.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking a bite. It’s delicious, and you hum in appreciation. For a moment, there’s silence between the two of you as you enjoy your food, keeping an eye out for any conspicuous hotel heirs as you do so. No such luck.

When you’re finished, you toss your plate into the stall’s trash can and shoot a glum glance at Suga. “Did you see anyone?”

Suga shakes his head. “No Park Chanyeol here, as far as I can tell. I think we should check somewhere else, that guy probably lied—“

“Wait, excuse me!”

The young man who served you emerges from behind the stall, his hands deep in his pockets. For a moment, he looks surprised at himself for speaking up, unsure if he should continue. But he takes a breath and goes on. “Did you just say Park Chanyeol?” Yoongi nods. “So, do you know him? Are you friends?”

You exchange a glance with Yoongi. “You could say that,” Suga answers. “Do you know where he is?”

The man nods enthusiastically, “I’ll show you. I’m Do Kyungsoo, by the way.”

“Bomi,” you shake his hand with a smile.

“Agust,” Suga gives him a small nod.

“Thank god you’re here, I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

Kyungsoo leaves his coworker to run the stall and leads you to a simple but clean apartment building nearby. As soon as he turns the lock in the door, you notice why he seems so distressed. In spite of the vendor’s reserved demeanor and the unusually clean state of the soondae stall, the apartment virtually trashed. There are wrappers and soda cans strewn all over the floor, the couch cushions have been rearranged into a makeshift fort, and there’s a pot of cup ramyun boiling over on the stove, which Kyungsoo sprints to turn off.

“Park Chanyeol!” He booms.

A toilet flushes. You and Yoongi are in utter shock as a tall, lanky boy with fluffy red hair comes loping into the living room with a wide smile. He has the same face as the stoic figure in the reference photo, but his appearance is the last thing you’d think of if you were picturing a rich CEO-to-be. “If it isn’t Kyungsoo-ah, and…” His eyes widen. “Hey, I didn’t know you had friends!”

You smile a bit awkwardly, “Hi.” Suga remains silent.

Kyungsoo scoffs, systematically going after the trash in each room. “Aish, I just cleaned in here this morning, Chanyeol, we go through this every day. AND you totally disrupted the ramyun system in the pantry, I told you it’s by color, then brand, then level of spice, then—“

“Sorry, sorry. I got a bit distracted playing video games.” Chanyeol scratches his head sheepishly.

“I’m not a maid, got it? And you’re supposed to be older than me, take a little responsibility.”

“I forgot,” Chanyeol looks down at his feet. “I guess I got carried away again.”

“That’s always your excuse, but you’re bleeding me dry. I can’t do this anymore.” There’s a finality in Kyungsoo’s tone as he ties off a full trash bag and stomps out the door, letting it slam behind him. Chanyeol has the air of a wounded puppy as he slowly makes his way to the couch, dismantling the pillow fort and trying his best to tidy up the room again. You move to help him.

“It’s okay,” he pats your shoulder, stopping you. “This is my mess. I’m sorry you two had to see this,” he tells you softly. “Kyungsoo rarely brings guests over, and yet, this is how you see his home. I… I have to do better. I’m just used to having maids and stuff,” He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle.

“You know, your parents are looking for you,” Suga says bluntly, folding his arms across your chest. “if you want to take responsibility, maybe you should go back home.” Chanyeol freezes, pillow in midair.

“How do you know who I am? Much less about my parents?”

“Because they sent us,” you admit, biting your lip.

Chanyeol lets this sink in. He plops down on the still-massive pile of pillows, rubbing his temples. “I can’t go back,” he whispers. “I can’t go back to that place. They’ll just treat me like a product again. Like an investment, instead of a person with free will.”

“Is it your will to become a VIP, then?” Yoongi scowls, kneeling so he can speak right in Chanyeol’s face.

Chanyeol’s eyes widen. “No, no. I would never join those guys.” He furrows his brow. “I just… can’t go back to my parents.”

“What you’re telling me, then, is that you know nothing about Bigbang?” Yoongi groans in frustration.

“Not much.” Chanyeol grimaces. “They tried to recruit me because of my background, but once my assets were frozen, they backed off.”

“Great,” Yoongi stands up. “Well, you need to leave here anyway, otherwise it’ll be a bad day for all of us.”

“I told you,” Chanyeol insists, “I can’t do that.”

“Then, sorry for this,” Yoongi pulls out his gun, but before he can do anything, the front door bangs open, revealing a terrified Kyungsoo.

“They’re here,” he breathes. “The VIPs. They’re outside.”

You and Yoongi race to the window, where you spot multiple black vans with the signature crown logo on the side, parked a ways up the street. Yoongi immediately draws the curtains. “We’re outta here. Park Chanyeol, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”

“I won’t—“

“Don’t you understand?” You cut him off, glaring straight into his eyes. “This man, who has shown you so much kindness, is now in danger because of you. Do you want to keep putting him at risk?”

Chanyeol gulps. He blinks hard. There are tears b in his eyes. “I’ll go.”

“You can use the fire escape,” Kyungsoo instructs. He’s pacing and wringing his hands, and he doesn’t appear to have heard the previous exchange at all. “You’ll have to be quick. God, what do they want?”

“It’ll be okay, Kyung-ah,” Chanyeol musses up Kyungsoo’s hair with a feeble grin. “Once I’m gone, there’s nothing they’ll want with you.”

Kyungsoo’s breath catches in his throat. “Chanyeol… Look, you’ve been through a lot, I shouldn’t have yelled. If you need to, you can—“

The taller boy shakes his head. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here, even though I was a complete stranger. You’re a good person, Kyung. I’ll try to be more like you in the future.”

Kyungsoo lets out a single sob, and hugs Chanyeol tightly. Surprised, the heir lets his arms settle around the other boy’s small frame. There’s a moment of contented silence.

“As touching as this is,” Suga shatters it. “We don’t have much time.”

Kyungsoo lets go, coughing awkwardly. “Go, then.” He opens the balcony doors, seeing you out.

“Come visit me at Rosewood sometime, Kyung-ah!” Chanyeol calls.

“Maybe if you clean up your act.” With a tiny smile, he closes the door.

The three of you make your way as quickly and quietly as possible down four flights of stairs and find yourselves at the rear side of the building.

“How do we get out without them seeing us?” Chanyeol inquires.

“Navigator?” Suga looks to you.

You go through your mental map of downtown. You’ve been through this area several times. “Since we need to get back to the van near Kang Chul’s, there are a few side streets we can take.” 

“I can help, too,” Chanyeol pipes up. “We should consider going from restaurant to restaurant so we’re not in the open.”

“Good idea!” You high-five Chanyeol, and Suga stares at you, blank-faced.

“Lead on, then.”

You make a run for the neighboring side-entrance of a Noraebang, then to the nearby PC-bang, a curry place, a laundromat. Your heart pounds heavily in your ribcage as you peek over a dryer facing one of the building’s large windows. Just barely, you catch sight of a black-clad figure sporting powder-blue hair.

You clutch Yoongi’s arm, “They’re onto us.”

Chanyeol winces. “Should we try to hide here?”

Instead of responding, Yoongi grasps your shoulder and pulls you through the laundromat’s far door, ushering Chanyeol out after. “Keep moving. We need to find a large crowd if we can.”

The chase is on.

You hang a left head toward the most populated area of downtown, melting into the masses of pedestrians. Suga hands you his face mask, trading jackets with Chanyeol. “Blend in,” he instructs. You catch on, pulling your hair into a ponytail and pushing the black cloth up over your nose.

Without warning, Suga takes your small, chilly hand in large, warm one. You flinch, meeting his gaze in shock. He immediately looks away. “For cover,” is his only answer.

The three of you make your way in the direction of the van slowly, sticking to popular shops as you subtly keep an eye out for your pursuers. “There,” Chanyeol gestures with his elbow at a single black van, crawling through traffic in your direction. Dread claws at the pit of your stomach. Your mind races.

“Let’s cross here,” you suggest. “They’re in the left lane, with this much traffic, it’ll be hard for them to double back around.”

“We’ll have to do it at the last minute,” Chanyeol protests. “Is that worth it?”

“They already know we’re here,” Yoongi reasons. “Let’s go for it.”

You wait for the van to be near the intersection, ‘til the crosswalk sign is counting from then. Then, the three of you sprint across the lanes of traffic, reaching the other side just as the light turns green. But instead of continuing left as they should, four VIPs spring out of the van determined to follow you on foot.

“Keep running!” Yoongi commands, and you dash off at full speed toward the van, swerving through the groups of confused commuters and terrified tourists.

“To the right, it’s in this next alley,” you pant, spotting the van in the distance.

You’ve almost made it when you hear five sets of footsteps. By the time you realize, you’re already surrounded.

“Well, if it isn’t Park Chanyeol,” one man, built like a gorilla, spits on the concrete in front of Chanyeol’s feet. “You never had the balls to join us, and now you’re a liability.”

“That’s hore.” Suga snaps. “Get lost.”

“And the Daegu trash, always so quick with the snark. I had half a mind to stay hidden like the Boss told us to and have you lead us straight to Bangtan’s hideout. But their time at the slaughterhouse will come, pulverizing you here will be so much more… satisfying.” The man his lips.

“Can you fight, Park Chanyeol?” Yoongi raises his fists.

“My parents forced me into Taekwon Do, so yeah.” Chanyeol widens his stance.

“Good. We need to keep them busy so she can run.”

“Understood.”

“Wait a sec. I can—“ You feel a wave of anger surging in your chest.

“No,” Suga barks. “Get to the van.” He presses the keys into your hands.

“How cute.” Gorilla puts his hands on his cheeks, aegyo style. “But Seung-hyun has much to talk about with this one, so I’m afraid she’ll be coming with us.”

Your heart sinks. “You don’t mean my…”

Gorilla lets out a loud, guffawing laugh. “Someone’s out of the loop. Don’t worry, you’ll—“

Wham!

Before he can finish his sentence, Suga is on him, a well-placed uppercut landing on the goon’s chin. “Run!” He yells.

You only hesitate a moment, barely registering that Chanyeol has laid out one of your assailants in front of you as you lurch aside to avoid them. Your muscles feel like lead, your lungs are burning. I need to work out more, you berate yourself internally.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a pair of meaty hands on your throat. Your two weeks of self-defense kick in and you lift up your arms, jabbing your attacker’s eyes with your thumbs When his arms loosen slightly, you flail, landing a kick to the groin. The guy goes down hard.

You briefly glance behind you and see that Chanyeol is dueling a second and third opponent at once, and that the first uppercut wasn’t enough to knock down ol’ Gorilla. He’s going strong, grabbing Yoongi’s arm and flipping him easily over his shoulder. Yoongi rolls out of it, popping right back up before he can be stomped on. Gorilla persists, swinging his cinderblock fists directly at the side of Yoongi’s head. “NO!” You scream.

Yoongi ducks, barely avoiding brain trauma, and shoots his leg out to sweep his opponent’s feet. This time, the man topples, and Yoongi starts wailing on him as soon as he hits the pavement. YES! You cheer silently.

You launch yourself into the car, start the ignition, and pull up beside the boys, who are panting from physical exertion. “Get in!”

They do, and you tear away from the VIPs, some of whom are giving chase half-heartedly at first, but stop once you’ve reached the major roads.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your hands shaking at the wheel. “You guys aren’t hurt, right?”

“Just a bloody nose,” Yoongi tips his head back, tissue in hand, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding before anything gets on Hoseok’s upholstery.

“I’m okay, too,” Chanyeol huffs. You catch sight of him in the rear-view mirror, looking relatively unharmed as he slumps back against the seat. He looks more sleepy than anything.

Tears immediately leak from your eyes. “Th-thank god,” you whimper.

“Hey, cut the waterworks.” Yoongi hands you a tissue, and you blow your nose loudly. “Keep your eyes on the road, crybaby.” He chides. But there’s no venom in his voice.

You nod, and the rest of the ride to the Bangtan compound is silent. Before long, both boys have fallen asleep in the backseat—Chanyeol with his mouth slightly open, Yoongi with a look of serenity gracing his face that rarely shows up when he’s awake.

You keep an eye out for any more VIP vans, but there are none that you can see. When you’re close to the compound again, you breathe a sigh of relief.

~~

“You intend to go back, then?”

Namjoon eyes Park Chanyeol, who is wearing a fresh set of clothes, staring at the floor like its mysteries are the most enthralling sight he has ever beheld.

“Yes,” he responds. He is quiet, but firm. “You were right, Agust, Bomi. I need to talk to my parents in person about what I want. I can’t keep running away.”

You find yourself smiling involuntarily. “I’m sure Kyungsoo would be proud of you.”

Chanyeol scratches his neck awkwardly, heat blooming in his cheeks. “Yeah.”

Namjoon shoots you a bit of a snide look in regards to your fake names, but he then clears his throat. “All the better for us, it means we can collect your bounty without difficulty.”

“Boss—“ You raise your voice indignantly. Why does he feel the need to bring this up now?

But Chanyeol isn’t offended, he simply laughs. “I figured as much. Go ahead.”

“We’ll notify your parents and have Hwasa drive you to the rendez-vous point shortly. Thank you for your cooperation. You are all dismissed.”

~~

Shortly after the meeting, Yoongi takes a seat next to Chanyeol on the steps outside the compound’s entrance. The sun is beginning to set. “Before you leave, I have to make sure,” he begins. “You have no useful information on Bigbang or its leaders?”

“You sure are persistent,” Chanyeol laughs dryly. “No, nothing major. They only tried to recruit me, but I wasn’t far along in the process when they decided I wouldn’t be useful.”

“I don’t understand, though. Even without assets, you’re still a future CEO. Wouldn’t being connected to a hotel chain be helpful for business?” Yoongi muses.

“Oh, that wasn’t why they wanted me in the first place,” Chanyeol corrects. “It was a strange reason, apparently, they wanted a connection to my uncle’s business, not my father’s.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a watchmaker. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the brand Horlage, they’re not as well-known as Rollex or anything, but they’re one-of-a-kind.”

“Horlage, and you’re sure that’s why they wanted you?” Yoongi furrows his brow.

“Weird, right?” Chanyeol giggles. “Even as a rich person myself, I can’t understand why other wealthy people do what they do.”

“Who can,” Yoongi mutters. “Thank you, Park Chanyeol.”

“Any time.”

~~

Later that night, you squeeze the water from your hair, donning your pajamas and intending to get into bed when you catch sight of Yoongi’s door. It’s open, light pouring into the darkened hallway.

That’s weird, you ponder. Even when he stays up late, the door is usually closed.

A bit concerned, you peek your head through the threshold, only to see a passed-out Yoongi, head resting on the keyboard of his open laptop, documents scattered around him. The room looks like a tornado passed through.

“Yoongi-ah,” you murmur. “You’ll catch a cold like that.”

You silently get closer, studying his peaceful, childlike expression. You brush his bangs out of his eyes gently, noting how soft his hair is. Wah, don’t be a creep! you chide yourself. Grabbing a pillow from his bed and carefully resting his head on that, you close his laptop and plug it in, then drape a warm blanket over his shoulders.

“Good night,” almost instinctually, you brush a kiss on the crown of his head. Then you turn off the light and close the door as quietly as you can.

~~

The door creaks shut.

Yoongi’s eyes snap open, greeted only by darkness.

She just… kissed me.

His cheeks ignite. He’s glad you can’t see them.