Twisted Every Way || Vmin/Yoonmin {Complete}

Epilogue -- Let Go

In the days following Friday night's drama, Namjoon couldn't help but be concerned for Yoongi's well being. Yes, his friend had gone to some pretty severe lengths to try to win Jimin's love, but he was still a friend. Taehyung and Jimin had been very reluctant to say anything about what had happened when the three of them escaped together, and though he was relieved that Yoongi did finally give in, he hoped that didn't mean he had given up on himself. He wondered, too, if Yoongi would be hunted down by the police--he probably deserved it. Yet after visiting Seokjin in the hospital, he was surprised to find that his other friend had no intention of pressing charges if the terrorism ended there.

Perhaps this meant that, in some sense, life was beginning to give Yoongi a break. Nonetheless, Namjoon found himself worrying until he received a text from him the following Tuesday afternoon, beckoning him to visit--this time to an unfamiliar address. Namjoon found himself at a half decent hotel, and was somewhat shocked to step into a suite where Yoongi seemed to have moved all of his musical equipment and then some. For a moment he wondered how he had managed to do such a large move alone, but figured that maybe those answers would come later. More than anything, he was glad to see the former ghost in good health. He still seemed somewhat somber, but he was alive and had a light in his eyes that Namjoon hadn't seen in months.

"I've got a lot of questions," Namjoon admitted as they sat themselves down on a couch that was nestled against a window, overlooking the Seoul skyline. "But I'm not sure where to start."

"Well, you're in luck," Yoongi said coolly, "Because I'm in a mood to answer them."

"First of all," Namjoon said, picking his words with care. "After all of that drama... what changed your mind?" In response, Yoongi bit his lips for a moment, took in a deep breath, and released it in a gentle sigh.

"The short version of it," he started with his eyes directed away, "...is that I finally realized that I don't deserve him. If he cried even one more tear, I would have wanted to die... No, I did want to die, and I almost went through with it. But then the most amazing thing happened, Namjoon. He kissed me."

"What?" Namjoon spat with dismay. "You mean on the lips?" His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand what context such a thing could happen in. Even as Yoongi spoke, filling him in the the disaster that had unfolded within his lair, Namjoon had a hard time believing what he was being told. Yet he watched as the smallest of smiles appeared on Yoongi's lips as he spoke of the kiss, the warmth in his voice and the light in his eyes convinced him.

"So..." Namjoon blinked as he processed what was being said to him. "So he kissed you because he felt sorry for you... And then you felt sorry for him and let him go?"

"I suppose," Yoongi said, his eyes fluttering open, and he focused on Namjoon again. "He's an angel. Truly. I couldn't keep him hostage any longer."

"What now, then?" Namjoon pried. "What will you do with the money? I don't think Seokjin expects to get it back, but..."

"He probably won't," Yoongi admitted, almost with a laugh. "But I'm going to be productive. I paid off my debts, and I've got this place secured for a little while. In the meantime, maybe I'll focus on music. I've got inspiration for ages all of a sudden."

"Productive is good," Namjoon agreed. He supposed that after all of the drama, Yoongi probably had enough muse to last him for years. However, something still seemed off to him. "Well, man. I'm glad to see that you're doing alright, but... Why exactly did you call me over?"

"I'm glad you asked. I have one, final favor to ask of you, Namjoon." Yoongi reached into the pocket of the flannel shirt that he wore, pulling out a letter, and leaned forward to pass it to his comrade. "I need you to deliver this for me. After that, you're off the hook. I've already leeched off of you for too long." Namjoon reached out to pluck it from the man's pale fingers, eyeing the envelope with suspicion and biting his lip for a moment.