They say that when you’re rich life is fun, exciting, and carefree. So why was Min Yoongi sitting in a bar at 3AM drowning his depression in shots of gin? He was attractive, young, and next in line to inherit his dad’s multi-million dollar company so why was he unhappy? He swiped the sweat from his clammy forehead and signaled for the bartender to bring him another shot. Through his blurry vision Yoongi counted the empty shot glasses on the bar; 7. He was 3 shots away from being in that euphoric drunken state where he couldn’t feel his face. He tilted his head back, further than intended, and downed his 8th shot.

He slapped his flushed cheeks and prepared himself for his last 2 shots. His phone chimed in his pocket, he signaled for another drink and checked the message he’d received. ‘Where are you? It’s late. Please come home,’ a text from his overbearing mother concerned about the family’s golden goose getting into trouble, it wasn’t good for the family image. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and downed his last shot. He paid his bill, left an EXTREMELY generous tip, and stumbled out of the bar. “OOMPH,” he heard as he ran into a warm body and they both fell to the cold ground.

“I’m so sorry,” the other person kept repeating as he hopped to his feet. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell at the loser to watch where they were going. The problem with that, though, was that the second he’d saw the person he immediately recognized him. “Park Jimin?” he mumbled out as he pressed a cold hand to his numb face.

The newly identified boy stopped mid-apology and studied the fallen drunk before him, “Min Yoongi?” he asked back, a small smile tugging at his pink lips. He stooped down in front of Yoongi and placed a hand on his knee, “Are you OK hyung? I’m sorry I didn’t see you.”

All Yoongi could focus on was how much his vision was swimming and how warm the hand on his knee was. One of the bartenders poked his head out the open threshold to address them, “Hey you kids can’t block the entrance.” Yoongi glared up at the bartender, he was NOT a kid. “Ah sorry, my friend had a few too many drinks. I’m taking him home now,” Jimin informed the bartender as he helped Yoongi up off the sidewalk.

“Where to hyung?” Jimin asked ushering the elder away from the bar. Yoongi shook his head, “Not home.” Jimin stopped walking and looked at the near incoherent man clinging to his shoulders, “OK, anywhere else in particular?” he queried. “Not home,” he replied shaking his head again. Jimin nodded, “Not home,” he conceded leading the elder down the sidewalk.

Yoongi groaned and cracked a bloodshot eye open and then the other. “Good morning sleepy head,” an energetic high-pitched voice greeted him. His eyes sought out the owner of the voice. They fell on the smiling Jimin, who was sitting on the floor beside his bed holding a mug of coffee. But wait, this wasn’t his bed. It wasn’t even a bed, he was laying on a mat.

He sat up and rubbed his dry eyes, “Where the hell am I?” his hoarse voice mumbled. His throat was dry, his lips were chapped, and his head was throbbing. “You’re at my place,” Jimin answered, his eye-smile giving his face a childlike glow. “Why?” Yoongi asked as he ran fingers through his mussed hair, “Did we ?” Jimin laughed at the elder’s forward question, “No, you don’t remember bumping into me last night?” he questioned.

Yoongi snatched the coffee from the younger and took a large gulp of the hot liquid. It helped relieve his dry throat and chapped lips, unfortunately his headache was still present. “You got super drunk and I brought you here because you told me you didn’t want to go home,” Jimin explained as he accepted the empty mug. Right, it was all coming back, “Thanks,” he told the younger with a nod. Jimin flashed another smile, “No problem, do you feel well enough to get up?” he asked, “I have to be at work soon.” Yoongi nodded and looked at him curiously, “Where do you work?” “Today?” Jimin asked as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, “The American diner down the street.”

Yoongi swallowed hard, was Jimin always this hot? Last time he saw the kid was when he was in high school and he did not recall him having those abs. “Mind if I tag along?” he asked nonchalantly, “I could use several cups of coffee.” Jimin turned to face the elder as he buttoned up his uniform shirt, “Sure if you really want to, but shouldn’t you check in with your family?” he asked. Yoongi snorted, “Why?” Jimin grabbed the elder’s phone off the windowsill and handed it to him, “Because you got like 30 missed calls from your mom and dad,” he informed.

Yoongi looked down at his dying cellphone: 30 missed calls, 8 voicemails, and 14 text messages. ‘Wow,’ he thought in disbelief. Jimin sat down beside the elder to pull on his socks, “They must be very worried about you.” Yoongi ignored their elbows bumping and shook his head, “They’ll be OK,” he said in mild annoyance, ‘Hopefully they’ll leave me alone.’ Jimin was confused by the sudden change in tone, but shrugged it off. It was none of his business anyway. Jimin grabbed his black apron and bag, “C’mon hyung,” he cheerily said as he walked towards the door. Yoongi quickly pulled his boots on and followed the younger out of the apartment.