Lustful Wars | p•jm ✓

•twenty one•

"Jimin..." you softly say his name, dazed by the gentleness of his thick lips. You place your hand on his, stopping him. "We need to save our energy for tonight?"

"Tonight?"

You rotate your head to give him a look "Yes, the dance competition. The actual reason we came to Seoul?"

"Ah," he says, realization hitting his features before calming down as another idea pops into mind. "Well we both need a shower, don't we? Might want to wash up after our long trip?"

Was this boy never fully satisfied?

You already know his intentions "Sure, you can go first then."

Surprisingly, he easily gives up. Shrugging his sulky shoulders as he walks away, finding the bathroom "Fine."

"Fine," you repeat, eyeing him closely until he disappears from view. You face the bed, wanting nothing but to dump yourself into the pile of sheets and take the longest nap of your life.

But all those luxurious thoughts are interrupted when you feel two hands grasping your body. A squeal bursts through your lips as Jimin chucks you over his shoulders, taking you into the bathroom.

"Jimin! Let me down!"

But once his lips are on yours again, all thoughts of protest vanish in an instant. Letting the pouring water cool down the rest of the heated scene.

.

Hoseok drags his drained body, his limbs about to fall off as he pushes himself to walk home. Mutter after mutter leaves his weary mouth, the only sound filling the dead silent street.

"How could my own mother forget that her son has fractured his fucking ankle? Does it not apply to her that I can't ride my fricking bike?"

It wasn't like it was a safe time at night either. No car to drive him and no bicycle to ride, the journey back from school ended up being longer than he thought, especially with a broken ankle. Which meant even though he's halfway home, the suns already set, casting him to a gorge of darkness. The street lamps becoming his only source of light to view the never-ending road.

He sighs as he looks up, no stars coming to view as the light pollution of the city chases the luminous dots away. He wishes to see them dance around again. He misses them. He misses Yoongi.

"Where's the money, you fucking cunt?!"

The thundering shout drags Hoseok's attention away, his head dipping from the sky as it whips around, searching for the owner of the frightening voice.

A small distance away, between two houses, three towering men surround themselves around a fragile man who hugs the ground. They appear like giants, their black clothes blending into the sketchy night and they turn the wind colder with their evil aura. He can almost see a pair of devilish horns peeking out of their heads.

"I said WHERE'S THE FUCKING MONEY?!" the middle man draws back his foot, smashing it into the man's ribs.

Hoseok bites at his lip, tasting blood as his entire body shivers, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He should keep walking before they notice him, he won't be able to run if they turn around. But foolishly, he hesitates, his natural instincts of fear and escape dissipating as his eyes catch a glimpse of the man on the floor. The familiar mint green head shining brightly through the dark night.

"Yoongi!"

.

"Welcome back to a new season of the Asian Dance Competition!"

Your body jumps when the cheers boom, the hundreds of people in the audience shake the auditorium with their screams, applauding the host's greeting. A gulp runs down your throat while your eyes wander over the numerous heads, the large audience coming into view through the gap of the curtain.