How Many Times You Wathed The Vid? - Yes. (days Before Yoongi Will Back: 525)

how many times you wathed the vid? - yes. (days before yoongi will back: 525)

Mythomania (24)

She’s the love of his life, the object of his affection. Too bad she doesn’t know it yet.

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Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

It’s almost as if YN’s entered an alternative universe. Everything in the basement is filed away, the concrete floor littered with electrical tape ripped into arrows and letters, ugly fluorescent lights twitching up above.

To be completely honest, this looks more like a warehouse than YN would have expected. She’d always envisioned vast closets and soft carpets like at the apartment. That wouldn’t quite be practical, she supposes.

“Is everything you’ve ever worn down here?” YN asks as Jimin leads her down one of the aisles packed so closely her shoulders brush plastic on both sides.

“Of course not,” Jimin says, slightly amused, “just items worn for performances, award shows, videos and stuff like that. It’s not just us either, all of the other artists’ clothes are here as well,”

“Why is it so cold?”

“The stylists keep it temperature controlled. Some of these clothes are very sensitive to harsh temperatures and weather, moisture and such. That’s why this whole place is monitored so severely. There’s over fifteen billion won worth of clothes here,”

Jimin says it so casually the number seems insignificant until YN can process that it’s -

“That’s like thirteen million dollars! Oh my God!” YN says.

It’s preposterous to think that there’s anyone, even a whole group of anyones, who have that much money invested in clothes, arbitrary things. But the kpop industry does not work in small numbers, not even on the consumer. Hell, the things she alone has bought probably paid for one or two of these designer shirts she passes by.

“We get a lot of donations from brands and designers. Us wearing one of their garments is better promotion than anything they can buy,”

“That makes sense. Everything you touch sells out within minutes,”

Jimin nods, making a sharp right when the last rack in the row ends. YN’s finally able to hear voices, all hurried but quiet like university students cramming for an exam in the library.

Not that YN would know, considering she never went.

They must be in the center of the huge basement, a large section empty of racks. Instead, there’s a raised runway lit by overhead spotlights that shine brighter than the rest of the room. Jungkook stands on one end of it, a very stressed looking middle aged lady tugging on the waistband of his slacks and sticking pins everywhere she deems necessary. Jungkook winces when he gets poked but he doesn’t say anything, standing as still as he can.

Hoseok is in a similar position, a different lady fussing with a very extravagant and blinged out dress shirt. YN notices the strange look he gives her and she squeezes Jimin’s hand tightly, an uncomfortable feeling washing over her.

Does he know?

Yet another stylist siezes Jimin and ushers him over to a rack at the edge of the clearing, holding up garments before tossing them away in frustration. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the dreaded blonde man appears standing in front of her, arms folded and eyes scanning her in a completely emotionless fashion. Goosebumps race up her arms. In her mind, YN tries to blame it on the icy temperature, but she knows it has everything to do with the man in front of her.

“Shouldn’t you be off ruining lives or something?” she asks, bitterness lacing her tone.

He smiles. The bastard has the audacity to smile!

“I’d be careful of my words, Miss YN,” he says.

YN feels more than sees a pair of eyes bring into the back of her head. A short turn confirms that Namjoon is glaring at her intensely, even raising a finger and pressing it against his lips as someone adjusts the lapels on his jacket.

If looks could kill he’d be six feet under by now.

YN doesn’t respond to the suits words, angry that she doesn’t have anything to retort with. They’ve got her in their palm and they know it.

Cocky son of a bitch!

“Now let’s not keep the wonderful stylists waiting, Miss YN. They’re very busy ladies,” he says, uncrossing his arms to shoo her in the direction of a rather flighty looking woman.

The suit remains by YN’s side as the woman grabs various shirts before abandoning them and disappearing into the racks. It’s only a few moments until she returns with various dresses, one in particular catching her eye. It’s long and white, small flowers embroidered in silver thread across the bottom hem. The lady shoos her into one of the changing rooms on the far side of the clearing, YN vanishing behind the heavy velvet curtain.

Momentarily, she looks around to make sure there aren’t any cameras. She doesn’t see any, so she quickly disrobes and tugs on the dress. It’s rather heavy to be a summer dress but the fabric is still soft to the touch. The full skirt flares out a few inches below her waistline, making her torso look longer than it really is. The top cuts elegantly across her shoulders, highlighting the dips in her collarbones. Unfortunately, it’s too tight in the chest area, squishing her breasts tightly and causing them to spill out over the top more than she’s comfortable with. Ever her waist feels restricted.

It makes her feel self conscious, the girl not wanting to leave the safety of her small sitting room. It’s obvious that this dress was meant for someone of a completely different build. It makes her feel rather boyish, like her shoulders are too wide. She supposes they are at least compared to the female idols she’s seen.

“Are you quite finished?” a voice asks from behind the curtain.

It’s the suit.

“Well yes but -”

He doesn’t wait any longer, snatching it open and causing YN to shriek in surprise. She’s technically decent, but she hadn’t expected him to expose her.

Jimin looks up from where his own clothes are being adjusted, glaring at the Suit in anger. How dare he invade her privacy like that? Anger flirts under his skin and Jimin prepares to snap at him but he gets distracted when YN steps fully out of the dressing room.

She looks glorious. The white fabric against her skin is radiant even in the horrific lighting. And her shoulders are out, those shoulders he loves, those collarbones he wants to dip his tongue into again. He feels a twitch in his pants and tries to shift his thoughts away from how beautiful she is, how beautiful his love is.

It appears that he isn’t the only one to notice. The other boys have their eyes on her as well, admiring how stunning she looks. Jimin isn’t pleased, noticing how Jungkook’s eyes linger on the tops of her breasts more than he’d like.

“Watch yourself, maknae,” Jimin growls out, causing the younger man to jump sorry and get stabbed by a pin.

“Sorry, hyung,” he says, eyes downcast.

Yn crosses her arms in an attempt to cover up but only worsens it by accidentally pushing them up even further.

How long has it been since he’s slept with her? Too long, much too long. They haven’t done anything worth anything, barely even kissed since the last time and she appears like that? In front of everyone? Hell no.

A stylist comes out and blocks his view, muttering under her breath and measuring around her body, writing down her findings.

“She says you’re too fat for it,” the Suit says.

YN’s cheeks go pink and she looks to the floor. It’s obvious that it was meant for someone else but to insult her weight?

“Maybe it’s because I actually have a figure,” she says, glaring at the hateful man.

Deep down YN knows that she doesn’t have weight issues, not even close, but she certainly doesn’t fit into Korea’s harsh beauty standards. She’s not short enough, not thin as a stick, not pale as a sheet of paper.

“If that’s what helps you sleep better at night,” he says.

YN begins to think that the poor lady hadn’t insulted her at all, that Suit is using her as a scapegoat.

“Do you sleep, Charles? Ah, excuse my ignorance, of course robots, don’t sleep,”

“My name isn’t Charles. It’s -”

“I don’t care what your name is, Charles,” YN says, feeling pissed off, beyond pissed off, “I’m here in this too small dress because of you and your kind. I won’t stand to be kidnapped and made fun of,”

“Careful, he might hear you,” Not Charles says, head gesturing ever so slightly towards Jimin.

For the first time since they split apart YN looks at him. He’s as gorgeous as always in his overly embroidered suitcoat, the material just a tad too big in the shoulders. But the thing that catches her off guard is not the way his clothes fit but the intense look on his face. It’s somewhere between hunger and anger. His eyes look even darker than normal as he stares at YN who panics internally.

Had he heard her? Did he know about her escape attempt?

YN feels herself begin to sweat ever so slightly. The moment is broken when the stylist grabs another item and pushes her back into the dressing room. This goes on for hours, the look Jimin gave her slipping her mind as boredom takes over.

Sure, she likes trying on clothes but this is just rediculous. She’s switched in and out of at least twenty different choices by now. It’s tiring and she’s beginning to get hungry.

It does end, eventually, and YN returns to her own clothes, noticing Jimin waiting for her. Whatever emotion he’s been experiencing seems to be over, YN notices with relief. He’s back to happy, smiley Jimin.

“Are we done?”

“With the clothes, yes. We have to run to the salon now,”

A sense of dead fills her stomach.

“Are they going to do something to my hair?!” YN asks.

There’re fifteen million ways that could go wrong.

Noticing his girlfriend’s panic, Jimin smiles

“Of course not. Your stylist won’t be here until the morning, I found out,”

“Then what’re we going to the salon for,”

“They’re dying my hair,”

“No!” YN exclaims.

Jimin’s black hair is by far her favorite and he has it for so little time.

“What?”

“I like your hair like this. It’s my favorite,”

“It won’t be much different. It’s going to be silver,”

“Silver is quite different from black, Park Jimin,” YN says, her dissatisfaction clear.

“You won’t like me with my grey hair?” Jimin asks, pouting.

“Of course I will. I love silver. It’s just not as good as black. At least it’s not pink,”

Jimin gasps.

“Everyone loves me with pink hair,”

“Pink is my very least favorite!” YN says, laughing at Jimin’s playfully scandalized expression.

He seems happier today than usual. For once YN doesn’t sense his usual hesitation. It’s a glimpse at the real Jimin, the one she hopes is real.

Every other member is here as well. Taehyung’s head is already bright red, the color of milkshake cherries.

Cherries …

YN shakes her head.

“I have to be here?” she asks Jimin.

“Of course you do. I always want you by my side, YN,” he says as he sits in an empty salon chair.

YN sits down beside him, wishing very dearly that she had her phone. She simply sits there, twisting the chair back and forth with one foot and playing with her own fingers.

“What happened to your phone, baby?” Jimin asks.

She tenses at once. The stylist has him facing her so Isla is forced to make eye contact, not able to escape his invasive gaze. Her heartbeat skyrockets, pounding so loudly she swears he can hear it. What does she do now? What does she say?

YN’s eyes drift over to Namjoon, trying desperately to come up with an excuse.

“Why are you looking at Namjoon, baby?” Jimin asks.

He’s calm, much too calm.

“I was just wondering what color they’re dying his hair,” YN says quickly.

Jimkin hums.

“But I thought you didn’t like him. Why would you care about something so frivolous a the color of his hair?”

YN licks her lips subconsciously, trying to combat the dry feeling in her throat. Jimin’s eyes linger on his mouth before trailing up to meet her eyes. She looks frightened, like a scared little animal caught in headlights.

“What are you and Namjoon hiding, YN,” he asks, voice completely free of emotion.

“I - nothing,”

“I thought we agreed on no more lies, baby,” he says.

YN’s eyes dart around the room, hoping to find a portal that would take her out of this situation. She wants to be anywhere else.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, please,”

She doesn’t want to, but something tells her it’ll only make him angrier if she defies his request. He’s been mostly soft, whiney even, for the majority of the time she’s been with him. YN’s mind briefly flickers over to the memory of her dragging him down the hallways while he pleaded with her. Where was that man? He certainly isn’t the one sitting before her.

YN raises her eyes to look at him, noticing the cold anger he hides just below the surface His fingers grasp the armrest tightly, nails diffing into the leather.

“I’ll ask you one more time. What’s going on between you and Namjoon?”

“Nothing,” YN says, sticking firm to her story even when it’s obvious that Jimin doesn’t believe her.

He doesn’t say anything, looking her over once more before breaking their staring contest as the stylist informs him that she has to rinse out his hair.

For the rest of the time they’re there, Jimin does not say a word to her. He doesn’t even acknowledge her, causing her anxiety to run out of control. She has the desire to go hide in a bathroom somewhere just to escape the suffocating atmosphere but something tells her Jimin wouldn’t stand for it.

So she sits there for an eternity until the stylist switches off the blow drier, Jimin’s grey hair shining as she runs oils through it and brushes it quickly.

He stands without telling her thank you and extends a hand towards YN, the girl silently saying her prayers as they stride out of the room, Jimin nodding to the few members still remaining in the room.

It’s dark outside now, probably around eight pm. YN doesn’t say anything as they board the standard black van, street lights casting light into the space and illuminating Jimin’s face. His features are set into a divine mask or carefully crafted indifference but YN knows better. He’s still angry, still unpredictable. Something tells her that the chance of making it to the apartment and going to sleep peacefully is exactly zero.

In the entirety of Jimin’s brooding, YN failed to come up with a single story she could tell Jimin that he’d believe.

Is this it? Is she really riding off to her doom?

Jimin’s silence is killing her. He doesn’t turn on the lights when they arrive home, the only noise is YN’s uncertain breathing. His back is to her, YN barely able to see the faint outline of his shoulders, his muscled arms.

He won’t hurt her, will he?

YN swallows.

“Why do you always insist on lying to me, YN? Why do you always insist on running off with Namjoon every time you get the chance?”

“I don -”

“Shut up,”

YN closes her mouth so quickly she almost bites her tongue, not having expected him to say that to her.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking,”

YN is still as a statue.

“Maybe he was right. Maybe I am useless. That’s why you walk over me like this,”

YN wants to argue with him but holds her tongue.

He sighs as if the whole world rests on his shoulders.

“I don’t care anymore. I want you and I’m going to have you. You are mine, just as much as I am yours, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” her voice is quiet, but YN knows he’s heard her.

“I don’t think you do, baby. Angel, darling, love of my life,” he says, turning around and stepping so close to her that their chests brush, “Do you think I say these words to just anyone?”

“No,” YN whispers, unable to look away from his piercing eyes.

“Do you think I fall all over myself for just anyone? Do you think I treat everyone like this?”

“No,”

“So we can agree that you’ve wronged me then, can’t we baby? We can agree that you’ve stomped all over my heart, can’t we?” his voice is much too light for his hard-hitting words.

YN says silent, not wanting to say anything.

“Speak, YN. Tell me I’m lying. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that you running off, having secrets with Namjoon, that all of that is just in my head,”

YN stays silent once more.

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin says, voice hard, husky in the same way it is every morning, “go to the bedroom, angel,”

YN’s breath hitches, a ball of lust swirling around in her stomach.

Jimin is silent for a moment.

“Are you saying no?” he asks, lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

YN finds herself shaking her head.

“What are - what are you going to do?” YN asks.

He’s too close, his presence is dizzying.

“I’m going to show you who you belong to,”

His words shoot straight down her spine.