A/N: 18/04/2017 - I wrote this entire story over a year ago and have since improved in both grammar and writing style so if there are any shortcomings in this entire work, please forgive my former naive self.
This chapter is dedicated to gyujinseyebrows and the next to MayukoTakai, my fellow VMin shippers <3 <3 Thanks for being my inspiration fam!
Hope you're all ready for a hell of a ride.
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i. live your life (come on baby)
Jimin's movements are as clumsy as a toddler's with each step forward giving him the sensation of sinking into mud—heavy and sluggish. Beads of perspiration trickle down the side of his face, and he pants profusely beneath the weight of the two other boys leaning heavily on either side of him.
He pauses to adjust the body on his shoulder to keep it from sliding to the pavement, wrinkling his nose at the disgusting odour of alcohol, sweat and puke. The smell of his own shirt caked with vomit, courtesy of the rambling drunkard on his right shoulder, makes him gag uncontrollably.
"Park Jimin!" the hazel-haired bastard hoots. "Gallop off into the sunset with me-ee~" He then cackles wildly making the shorter boy's hairs stand on end.
"You ruin my shirt one more time, Hoseok-hyung, and I'll leave you here to gallop all by yourself."
Hoseok pouts in response, turning his head and giving Jimin a sloppy kiss on the cheek that reeks of eau de after party. Jimin stifles the urge to retch.
Lugging the limp bodies of his tipsy college mates through the automatic doors of their building, Jimin maintains a strong grip on the arm slung over his left shoulder to prevent its owner from getting away.
"Jeonggukkie," Jimin grumbles. "Quit fidgeting; I can't hold you properly."
"But Jiyong-hyung is waiting to tango with me!" The boy hiccups, his curly locks a disheveled mess and his shirt askew. "GD-hyung, wait for me~" He wails, words slurred in an alcohol-induced haze. Jimin ignores him, focusing his energy on keeping Hoseok from barging headfirst into a wall.
After dealing with Jeongguk professing his undying love to a wilting cactus (You could just tell me I'm a bad kisser, baby, no need to poke me!), Jimin has to further endure a lift journey upwards to their floor, accompanied by a soulfully cacophonous rendition of Big Bang's 'Bang Bang Bang', belted out at an ear-splitting pitch by the two intoxicated boys at his sides. He glares at the lift doors, contemplating what the fuck he ever did to deserve this type of shitty treatment.
Ever since that one time he had followed his senior Jung Hoseok on one of his club excursions in his freshman year, Jimin hasn't gone to a single nightclub or frat party ever since. Namjoon still has blackmail footage of Jimin on the roof in his birthday suit, drunkenly performing a soprano version of 'This is Gospel' to the entire city of Los Angeles. He's never lived that incident down and he vowed to never set foot in that club ever again, or any club for that matter. (Everyone still remembers that fateful news report, in which firemen had to manhandle a certain boy off a rooftop amidst said boy screeching the chorus at the top of his lungs.)
Park Jimin, clubs and alcohol just do not mix.
So how he ended up clubbing the night before heading back to campus for the new semester, he has no freaking idea. Nor does he have any inkling how on earth his neighbor from Busan, freshman Jeon Jeongguk, had ended up tagging along for the ride (everything must be that damned Hoseok's fault) despite Jimin's reluctance at Jeongguk's age (there's always the incredible invention of the fake ID and of course no one listens to Jimin, no one).
Somehow, Jimin manages to get them all to the front door of their room. He shoves Hoseok out of his face before swiping the key card across the sensor, and the door clicks open smoothly. Stumbling into the room, Jimin dumps his flushed friends onto the nearest bed before grabbing a towel. He heads to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.
He groans, massaging his throbbing shoulder blades and flexing his muscles to rid them of the soreness. Peeling off his clothes, he makes a face at the stench of his filthy shirt, and coughs as he chucks it into a corner.
"[Disgusting!]" he exclaims. The yodelling of his inebriated friends reverberates off the walls, making him sigh.
Stripping himself bare, Jimin runs a hand through his matted hair and steps into the shower. With the twist of a knob, water cascades upon him like an everlasting waterfall. The relaxing stream caresses his skin. He hisses at the initial cold, shuddering until the warmth seeps in. His mind fades into dullness as he relishes the warm steam rising around his body.
Suspiring in relief, he scarcely has time to enjoy the lukewarm rain upon his skin when the voices of the inebriated idiots echo faintly through the door.
"Giddy up, J-Horse! I'M COMING, JIYONG-HYUNG!"
"Alright, alright, it's a helluva feeling though! IT'S A HELLUVA FEELING THOUGH!"
Jeongguk and Hoseok's yowling jolts Jimin to his senses, the disturbing thumps against the wall giving off a foreboding vibe. He doesn't need telling twice when he hears piercing whoops, punctured by a shout of "BYE CHIM CHIM!"
Jimin's just switched off the shower when he hears the jingling of the doorknob. Not even bothering to dry himself off, he hastily wraps the towel around his waist before dashing out of the bathroom. Hoseok's drunken antics are common knowledge in Jimin's dictionary—it's more that he doesn't want Jeongguk to be stuck up a tree tomorrow naked and chanting "Wow, Fantastic Baby."
Unfortunately, the boys are already halfway out the door, giggling hysterically like schoolgirls, screeching out the next verse of "Sober." Jimin rushes forward, shoving Hoseok back into the room before gripping the arm of a soused Jeongguk.
"You morons are anything but sober—" he begins but then squeaks in alarm as he's yanked along. His heels dig firmly into the cheap carpet on instinct. A tug of war ensues between Jimin and Jeongguk, the maknae's heavy body swaying precariously. In the midst of the confusion, the drunken boy slips, sending both his hyung and him tumbling into the corridor.
A gasp escapes Jimin as he flails, teetering dangerously before regaining his footing, and the towel around his hips nearly slides off. The unexpected breeze below causes him to panic, his hand grasping the loose fabric reflexively. Jeongguk's just about to share a kiss with the ground when Hoseok's arms shoot out and grab him.
"Ride me, Kookie!"
And then Jeongguk's gone, the combined chortles of both boys fading away into the depths of their room. Jimin's just too occupied with covering up his dick, impervious to anything else.
The portentous sound of the lock clicking into place is enough to make Jimin jerk his head upwards in surprise. His brain is slow to respond, but gradually the gears of his sedated mind creak slowly into motion. Trepidation manifests itself in his chest, the urgency of the situation sinking in.
It's 3am, and he's locked out of his room, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. He doesn't even have briefs on.
FUCK.
Panic rises within him as he futilely joggles the door handle, rapping frantically on the door.
"Hoseok-hyung! Jeongguk!" Jimin hisses in a hushed voice as he presses an ear to the door and strains to hear a response. "Open the fucking door, please!" His wasted buddies are completely incognizant of his cries. Jimin is unable to make out what's going on in there.
The knocking ceases, and he bangs a fist on the door in frustration and rests his forehead against the cold, hard wooden surface. He curses, despair welling up inside him. God damn it.
Jimin is suddenly mindful of the eerily silent corridor. His stomach churns nervously, and his breathing quickens. His pupils dilate, darting everywhere to check for any sign of movement. Fear claws at his heart, but not a soul can be seen down this desolate corridor; it's as if Jimin is the only person left in the world.
A runny nose with sniffles alerts him to the fact that he's freezing. Globules of water drips down from his damp hair, a sense of icy cold spreading like tendrils throughout his being.
GREAT, he thinks sourly to himself, I'm going to die of cold out here, naked. And he's not even drunk—a new all-time record for Park Jimin, #KingOfUltimateFails. What an incredible feat.
However, he does calm down eventually, giving himself a mental pep talk (hey, at least he didn't ride a shopping trolley nude down the street screaming 'INFIRES', unlike a certain grumpy hyung he knows). The only logical thing to do is to go down to the lobby and ask the receptionist for a spare key. Farewell, pride. Jimin's going to kiss its ass goodbye.
Quivering like a leaf with the biting cold nipping at his bare skin like a hungry beast, Jimin inhales sharply before setting off down the hallway carefully, footsteps muffled by the discoloured carpet underfoot. Creeping silently past each room makes him feel like an intruder in a foreign place, adrenaline courses through his veins from the intense fear threatening to devour his sanity.
Heart thumping vigorously in his chest, Jimin's hands shake visibly, both from the temperature and the terror clutching at his soul. His senses have sharpened by tenfold; he's as jittery as a rabbit, the slightest noise sending him scurrying backwards. The stillness of the air makes his skin crawl, the end of the hallway seeming like miles away.
When he finally approaches the end after what feels like a millennium, Jimin's body is rigid with cold. His feet are numbed beyond feeling like he's having a permanent case of pins and needles. Teeth chattering, he's just about to round the corner and praise the lord that for once he's been spared from becoming the spectacle of the year again when he glimpses the silhouette of a figure.
Jimin instantly recoils, his body sticking instinctively to the chilly surface of the wall, heart jammed in his throat. Apprehension surging ever higher, Jimin peeks out from behind the bend, scrutinizing the boy in front of the lift curiously.
His striking sunset hair is the first thing that catches Jimin's eye; it's a stark contrast to the dullness of the surroundings, glistening in the dim glow of the fluorescent lights. He's tall, his profile not muscularly built but lean nonetheless, and those ripped jeans hug his figure just right, showcasing those long legs.
Both hands stuffed inside his pockets, the youth rummages through them searching earnestly. His thick eyebrows furrow in confusion as he turns every single pocket inside out only to produce nothing. Groaning loudly, he lets one hand drop to his side as the other cards through his brightly-dyed hair.
Barely a meter away, Jimin turns into a popsicle, shivering so much to the point that his brain just stops functioning. Great, he moans inside his head, there's someone out there, and he's actually good looking. Damn it, why does his life have to play out this way? It's like someone up there is doing this on purpose. Jimin grits his teeth, knowing if he stays out in the cold for any longer he's going to catch pneumonia. Coming to an inevitable decision, he braces himself. Screw this.
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