↻ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴜꜱʙ'ꜱ ↺
With heavy shoulders, Jimin takes a seat in the sharp blades of grass, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. His eyes wander over the hill and a soft sigh falls from his mouth as he peers to his left, catching his mother as she sits beside him in a motionless state, lull.
"I haven't gotten anything yet today. I'm trying," he states as his blank expression drop to his folded legs. His worn out sneakers grip his attention and he feels the blood in his veins begin to boil. The sky darkens, clouded over, leaving behind a solemn impression. The trees start to susurrate as the wind brushes through their leaves and some tumble to the ground, landing just before his crossed legs. He picks one up and crumples it in his fist, opening his fingers to watch the deported pieces drift into the air.
The breeze ghosts his ear and it almost feels like a whisper as he leans into his mother, feeling her cold and rough exterior brush his own of warmth. He's desperate to hear her voice again and so when he gets nothing to placate his craving, it frustrates him. He would give absolutely anything to witness her smile one last time.
But she's dead. And she's never coming back, no matter how much it hurts.
He stands up from his sitting position and hunkers down beside her with a small and wilting flower in his hand. He places it before her and leans in to press a kiss to her gravestone, fingers tracing the letters engraved into solid and rugged concrete. Next to her lay his father, burried deep within the cold ground. He can't care to look at him and never does. He's not as important as she is. There's still a difference with her being gone, even if it's been eight years. With him, he doesn't notice any change.
"I'll see you again one day," he laments and he stands, brushing his knees off while staring at her reverently. Rain begins to fall from the sky and small droplets prick at his skin, pressuring him to make his leave. With an unsually heavy heart, the bottoms of his sneakers puncture the graveyard ground as he travels down the hill slowly. He pulls his hood over to cloak his brown hair and his hands find home in his hoodie pocket once again, eager to seek haven from the approaching night's impending chill.
He reaches the main road and as night crowds and bolsters the streets of Itaewon, Jimin prospers in such an environment. In desperate need of money due to scarce resources, stealing from drunk people seems to be the easiest alternative as opposed to swiping things from people in Gangnam-gu where stakes are held higher and his chances of being caught are elevated. He lifts his head slowly and his eyes meet the boisterous environment of Itaewon. A sea of bodies, all from different backgrounds and ethnicities dance as if they're one and all judgment is let free. Loud music crescendos and the bright lights that hang from pubs and clubs flash irresistibly in the eyes of partygoers. Jimin adjusts the position of his hood as he dives into the crowd, studying the people he passes by in earnest.
Despite his untamed look, he's confident in his abilities and he's well aware that he's attractive. Which is why his first target is a gay club by the name of Queen. Granted things become desperate, he can always count on his ability to lure older men in. They're naive and they'll do whatever it takes to get their hands on a pretty boy. However most importantly, they're rich.
It works every single time.
Jimin pushes through the crowd of Itaewon to reach the entrance of Queen. As soon as he does, he pushes his hood off of his head to take in all that he can. The coalesced aromas of alcohol and sweat become more prominent as they breach his nose and his face scrunches in response to the distasteful smell. The colourful spotlights dart around the club, catalyzing the people who party to do so, but more passionately. Despite it being almost just as busy as the streets itself, the ambience has shifted and the air occupies itself with lust and sensuality. The music comes to a slow and men begin to explore each other's bodies wantonly. Jimin realizes this is the perfect time and so his eyes search for a target, like a feline on prowl. Somebody who isn't dancing and rather seated. Somebody who observes cynically with a drink in hand.
His lips pull into a small smirk as soon as his eyes lock with someone else's. He hardly has to do any of the work himself. The man beckons him over with a curled finger, his eyes narrowed and head tilted.
Jimin's ample lips separate and his cunning eyes bat while he looks the stranger over. He takes it upon himself to lift the bottom of his hoodie just enough to show skin, catching how quickly a switch shifts in the man's guileful gaze, even from their distance. Driven to a postion of impatience, the man stands from his seat and adjusts the state of his suit, flattening it out. The collar is next, and he fiddles with it as he approaches Jimin through the crowd of dancing men. Their gazes never split, not for a moment.
"You seem to be a little overdressed, wouldn't you say, beautiful?" the older man asks and without notice, his hands caress Jimin's sides and hook onto his ass, giving it a firm squeeze. His expression is more so one of annoyance as he rolls his eyes furtively, growing sick by the second. He doesn't understand how older and most likely married men can be so shameless. But he supposes he's the same way. He's using them for their money, after all. The only difference is that they're stupid enough to fall for it.
"I wanted to leave it to the imagination. I wanted you to undress me and so you can discover what's underneath yourself," Jimin murmurs coyly while whispering his words into the man's ear, forcing his lips into a smile. Soon hands leave his ass and instead relocate to the hem of his sweater where they display an unhealthy push of eagerness. However the brunette stops him, shaking a finger.
"You're gonna have to try a little bit harder than that, big boy. I'm not some cheap whore. If you really want me, you have to show me," he drawls, and notices how the man as well as his hands hesitate on his sweater. But he just as quickly reaches into his pocket for something, appearing to be a bill of won, and slips it into Jimin's back pocket, foolishly thinking it will be enough. Boy is he in for a treat.
"How about we take this to the back," he suggests into Jimin's ear, and the boy nods. The man walks ahead of him and he follows obediently. They travel through puddles of men and shortly reach their destination. The familiar walls greet the brunette with their garnet red fur. Dim lights hang from up above, summoning an intimate atmosphere for the people making out without any restraint.
His wrist is gripped and he's tugged into a private room. The older man soon follows in suit and as he closes the door shut, he loosens his tie. Jimin saunters over to the bed, laying himself down against the mattress. He nibbles on his thumb as he bats his lashes, catching how the eyes of his target darken with lust. The brunette is then crawled over top of, and he tries to suppress disgruntled sounds as he feels the man's chapped lips press to his neck.
"So pretty," the older man states and Jimin feels his stomach twist with displeasure as soon as a hand cups the inside of his thigh. It never goes this far. He always gets what he wants without having to surrender his body. But this man is being stubborn, and so Jimin tries something of his own. He attempts to reach into the pocket of the man's suit jacket, only to be stopped immediately.
"What are you doing, little thing? Keep your hands to yourself. You'll get what you get. You don't want me angry," he warns, and Jimin feels an unprecedented state of panic consume him. This isn't going to be about getting as much as he can, anymore. It's going to be about getting out.
The man's fingers dig deeper into his thigh and his hand rises, close to his groin. He can't let him know that he's panicking, otherwise it's game over. He has to remain calm and act like he's enjoying it. That's when he makes his move, and escapes. This is the specific danger he has always been aware of, however has never experienced. This will be a test for both him and the adamant man above him.
He's sloppy. So incredibly sloppy, Jimin feels himself reach his apex of disgust. The man's hand then reaches his crotch fully, cupping it. The brunette holds in a cry and that's when he knows for sure that he has to get out or it will be too late. Their positions shift slightly and two legs are stationed on either side of Jimin's. He takes this opportunity to swing both of his legs upward, striking the predator right in his groin with both of his knees.
"You fucking bitch!" He falls to the side, holding his crotch. Jimin scrambles to his knees and before he leaves for good, he reaches into the man's pocket and catches something with his fingers. He has no time to study it as he darts for the door, running as fast as his weak legs can carry him.
He parts through the other men in the club and pushes them aside, eager for the fresh air to breach his nostrils. As soon as he reaches the animated street of Itaewon, he bends over and places one of his hands to his knees, catching his breath. He opens the other and ogles what lays in it, brows coming to a furrow.
A fucking USB?
He risked everything for a fucking piece of plastic. He sighs and fixes his posture, running the back of his hand against his brow. He continues to stare at it with resentment, can't helping but to let a wry sniff fall free from his nostrils and a humourless smirk to play on his lips. It's only when he looks up that he finds himself being approached by a man. And another. And then some more. They're all dressed in black, however not in suits. They're large in size muscle wise and eclipse Jimin's stature.
As they close in on him, there's only one thing that comes to his mind. It may be foolish, but this stupid piece of plastic is clearly important.
So he swallows it.
(a/n): just for reference this is the usb size pls stop bullying me (: