"Damn. Park Jimin, you hot fucker."

Hoseok stands in the doorway of their house making goggly eyes at the violet-haired man who would have been a Junior at Seoul University had he stayed in his communications program. Jimin twirls once, twice. He finds himself growing self-conscious on the second twirl and folds his hands across his chest worriedly.

"Is it too much?"

Jimin pulls his lower lip into his mouth, staring down at the choice of attire for his shift tonight. Instead of wearing his usual bartending pants--which are plain and black and downright boring, Jimin is wearing his tightly-fitted black leather pants. The dress code for his work specifies black pants and a no-brand business casual shirt. Jimin knows his coworkers openly break those rules from time to time, but it's not like his boss pays enough attention to notice. He can definitely get away with wearing tight leather pants.

"It's so you! Why haven't you worn these pants to work before?" Hoseok lifts a brow. In his hand is a greenish, what-the-hell-kind-of-shit-is-mixed-in-there protein shake, as per usual following his nightly Pilates routine. "Oh wait, I know why you haven't. CUZ you're mad THICK Jimin. You're gonna get diabetes with that much CAKE."

"Ha-ha. Very funny." Jimin turns around to check that his ass is still prominent. It is, despite his lack of energy to get out to the gym with Hoseok. "But I should really exercise more. Remind me to come to Pilates with you next time."

"Sure! Thea would love you there." Hoseok nonchalantly refers to the foreign Pilates instructor that he's grown close to over the sessions. Jimin would normally shudder at the mention of the female species, but Hoseok mentions Thea so much that he's become numb to her name. "We should prolly get goin' thick stuff. Got your phone?"

"Yep." It's a bit difficult for Jimin to pull his phone from the tight-fitting back pocket, but he does. His lock screen is a picture of a drunken Hoseok mid dance-move, making a hilarious face while extending his arms. His phone is at...54%.

He frowns. Why did he expect to see 97% or 79%?

"Aite! Lez head out."

Hoseok opens the door for Jimin, leading them to the black Toyota Camry in the driveway. Since they live in a duplex, they have to share the driveway, but their neighbors are nice enough. Thankfully, the Lee Family is amicable, waving kindly to Jimin or Hoseok when they see each other in the driveway.

The Lee's have one son, a middle school boy who invites his friends over to play baseball at the park just down the street. Jimin doesn't mind them at all. He likes the quaint quality of the neighborhood, enjoys the friendly chants of the youngest Lee whenever his pals come over.

"...and then I said no way am I letting you steal my chem notes, Baekhyun. After that he left me alone for the most part. Did I do the right thing?"

Jimin side glances at Hoseok, mind completely elsewhere as his friend asks for advice. "Huh? Sorry, I wasn't listening."

Jimin forces himself not to rethink his pant situation as he gets into the shotgun seat of the Camry. They aren't that giveaway...some people just like to wear tight pants. That doesn't make him gay right away--no one could assume that. Right? Only Hoseok knows his secret--not even his parents--and he wants to keep it that way.

"Nevermind, it's not that important...you sure you're good, Jimin?" Hoseok pulls out of the driveway. Sometimes Hoseok offers to drop Jimin off at work since Jimin hates driving himself. Hoseok parks at the bar, sees Jimin off, goes to another local bar to dance and make a bunch of friends (he's a social butterfly) and then Jimin drives his drunken friend home. Hoseok's classes are all later in the day, so he gets a chance to sleep his hangover off. However, Hobi isn't one to sleep long, always tending to wake up with Jimin. "You aren't regretting the pants, are you?"

Hoseok knows him so well. "Well...no...yes...maybe, yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Don't. You look hot as fuck. Some guy will notice you and think--damn. I may not be gay, but I'm gay for Park Jimin. And then he'll ask you for your number as a friend when really he likes you more-"

"Shut uuuppp..." Jimin pretends to be disgusted, but the curve of his lips say otherwise. "I'm supposed to work at work. Not flirt. Plus, you know how shitty I am at talking to others."

The Camry slows to a stop at a red light and Hoseok peeks over at Jimin. He takes his protein shake out of the cup holder and gulps it. When he's done, he sets it back in its place with a sshhhpaw sound effect and shakes his head at Jimin.

"No you aren't. The problem isn't you, it's others. You talk at such a high Lexile that they just feel insecure and give up the convo. Those people don't deserve you...you need...you need to find that one person that understands you--the Park Jimin with the thickest ass in tight leather pants with raging purple hair--instead of dumbing yourself down to meet their standard."

Jimin flushes in embarrassment at the same time his heart perks up. Hoseok knows exactly what to say to him, especially when it matters. He doesn't know what he would do without Hoseok.

"Thanks, Hobi."

They pull into the strip mall parking lot just before seven. Hoseok parks in the row farthest away from the building by some other employees' vehicles. Radon is just one of many establishments that make up the tiny strip mall. The buildings next to Radon consist of a nail salon, a popular noodle shop called Hope Noodles, a dry cleaning shop, and some unmemorable insurance company. Jimin has never been in any of the other buildings, but he knows they're pretty popular.

Hoseok pulls the Camry up to the front entrance and places the car in park. Before Jimin can get out, Hoseok makes sure to tell him how swole his ass is, how thick his thighs are, and how happy he is that Jimin is smiling again. You better keep those teeth shinin' all night, chico. See you later, gator!

Because of his lovely friend, Jimin enters the blackish doors of Radon with a lighter and rainbowtastic heart. His coworkers greet him casually, as always, and he heads to the back to wash his hands. His shift kicks off just as normal, and nobody says anything about his pants or how he isn't wearing his usual attire. It pleases him.

He maintains this calm composure for most of the night, twittering between self-confidence and indifference.

Then a certain customer walks in.

Jimin has nothing against the guy, but his slightly tossed coif and crooked teeth remind him of a certain character from a certain game. One of the students from the first level classroom had a similar stance and sour look on his face. As the man approaches the bar and asks for two sojus on ice--Jimin's guessing he's waiting for his date to arrive and is being a gentleman by paying for his date's drink--Jimin nearly doesn't catch the order because of the intrusive echoing of words in his mind.

YOU'RE UGLY PARK JIMIN.

YOU DON'T BELONG HERE.

The memory is still fresh from earlier in the day, but it hurts much less. They were just graphics, after all. This man cannot hurt him, can't stand there and throw books at him from across the bar. Then, he'd have to call in his manager and file a complaint about getting harassed...

"Somethin' wrong, Jimin?"

Soobin, the youngest bartender at Radon, asks him from under his thick black spectacles. He's currently mixing up some lime tequilas for some girls that can't be much older than him. Since the bar is so hip among the young crowd, customers are asked to show their IDs at the door to ascertain they're at least of drinking age.

"No...just thinking. You here until midnight again?" Jimin tries to sway the conversation a different route.

Soobin tilts his head, pursing his thick lips. He's one of the goody-goody bartenders that likes to follow the rules like Jimin--probably because he's the youngest. The glass in Soobin's hand is steady as he coats the rim with a slice of lime, then dips the rim onto a shallow plate of salt.

"Nope. Here until two AM. Even though I have an exam tomorrow, Yeonjun wouldn't trade with me." Soobin sets the tequila glasses on the counter, scooping ice into each of them.

Jimin grabs two glasses for the sojus and does the same, adding ample chunks of ice to his drinks. "That's assery. Didn't you trade for Yeonjun like three times when he needed to switch?"

"Yeeeppp." Soobin pulls out a bottle of tequila and fills two shot glasses, then transfers the alcohol into the rimmed glasses. "He'll hear it from me tomorrow night, trust me."

"Good."

Jimin fills the iced glasses with soju and brings them to the messy-haired scowler that reminds him of the game. He slides the drinks over to the man and receives a grim smile in return. The man pushes a few thousand won over the counter as a tip and Jimin takes the bills with a meek thank you, sir.

Man, Jimin thinks, whoever is unlucky enough to date that guy will need that drink. He's a vibe-killer.

For the rest of the night, Jimin runs into few problems. Before he knows it, his shift is almost over after serving countless tequilas, cocktails, takjus, and other hangover juices to the young and flamboyant crowd. He peeps the time and the clock reads 2:57. Only three minutes remaining in his shift. Only one hour until the bar closes.

Thankfully, he isn't closing tonight. Having to close is the worst because it means pushing drunkards out of the building and ridding the bar of ostensibly piteous individuals who'd rather bury themselves in drink and moping than deal with their problems.

These individual stragglers sit alone until they are forced out, often making painful conversation with whoever is closing. Jimin has heard all of the sob stories, the terrible status of the young people in Korea who feel like there isn't hope for what they want to do instead of what their parents want them to do. It's heartbreaking perhaps, but Jimin isn't great at comforting, and he can't relate to their disregarded ambitions. Jimin's parents were always the laid-back, you can do whatever you want as long as you're happy and don't die type.

"Hi there. Whaz yo' name honey?"

Jimin turns from his spot wiping the counter to see one of the presumable stragglers staring right at him. Rag in hand, Jimin points to his chest as if to say who, me? and receives a nod in the affirmative.

Funny. Jimin walks over to the fair-haired man slowly, urging himself to stand his ground. The last time I heard Busan satori was from Pluto today...

"How can I help you?"

From the close position, Jimin can see the details of the man's face. He looks a bit older than Jimin, with close-cropped black hair and smiling eyes. He raises his glass, holding it up as if you make a toast to Jimin.

"Has anyone ever told you that you should be on the cover of Allure?" The stranger sets his glass down on the bar counter, leaning back in the barstool. The chair squeaks under its occupant's weight, and in the haze of the bar's neon lighting, Jimin finds the other's teeth are straight and neatly polished. Hmm.

"No." Jimin speaks honestly.

No one has suggested that to him before, but he has been told he should be on the cover of Cosmopolitan, Bazaar, Dazed, Elle, Marie Claire, and a bunch of others that he doesn't care to remember the names of. He's been called pretty boy many times by all genders, but he never finds it flattering because everyone who calls him that is intoxicated in some form.

They're both h's: horny and hopeless, or at least that's what Jimin tells himself whenever people here give him compliments. Why should he trust the opinions of people so trashed when he could have Hoseok's honest opinion any day of the week?

"No?" The stranger laughs, a deep rumble pouring into Jimin's ears. It reminds him of the way ice tinkles into glasses, except in a lower octave. Eventually, the man regains his composure and leans his elbows on the counter. Jimin busies himself ordering around the straws and napkins under this portion of the bar. "So...you didn't answer my question. What's your name?"

"Jimin." He blurts out. "Park Jimin."

"Ahh!" The man claps his hands together, sliding them together. He lifts up a brow and nods as if pleased by something. "I'm a Park too. Park Jinyoung."

"Okay." Jimin settles his hands on the stack of napkins, crossing his fingers for the time to tick down faster. He feels the regular pulses of anxiety begin to creep in to his mind. Is this guy trying to get him to admit that he's gay? Is he trying to lure him in with flashy smiles and smooth talk, just to get him to reveal his long-kept secret? Jimin doesn't know, but he puts on a poker face, smiling politely at the man. "Nice to meet you, Jinyoung."

The clock reads 3:00.

Internally, Jimin lets the rainbow fireworks explode gaily around the bright neon sign in his heart that flickers TIME TO FUCKING GO HOME, JIMIN! YOU'RE FREE!

"But actually, my shift is over." Jimin removes his hands from the napkin pile and starts turning around. "Have a nice night-"

"Wait!" This Jinyoung character sits up straight in his chair, scrambling for something in his pocket. "Shit shit! Where's a piece of paper, where did that go! Shit shit-"

Jimin slides a napkin over the bar counter. "Will this do?"

"Gladly." Jinyoung whips out a pen from somewhere (Jimin wonders how one could sit comfortably at a bar stool with a pen shoved in a butt pocket but doesn't dwell upon it) and scribbles down something on the paper. When he's finished, he pushes the slip towards Jimin with a victorious smirk on his gentle features. Jimin tries not to blush as he sees the familiar scrawl of numbers on the sheet. "Call me sometime, Park Jimin."

"Uh, um..." Jimin freezes in place, staring at the clock. Some part of him wants to take the damn napkin and run, but another wants him to stand there and ask the man why he assumed Jimin was gay. However, the fireworks ramming into his chest and the fatigue of his shift makes his fingers tentatively grab the napkin and shove it into his pocket, briefly waving at Jinyoung before turning and leaving.

.

"Where's your smillleee??? Come on, Jimin, didn't I tell you to smile?"

A giddily drunk Hoseok clambers into the passenger seat of the Camry, tossing the car keys into Jimin's lap. The younger cards a tired hand through his purple hair, instantly starting the car and blasting the AC.

"It's just hot and I'm tired."

And some dude tried to flirt with me and he gave me his number but I totally froze up--Jimin wanted to say but knew if he did Hoseok would drunkenly twist his words and somehow choreograph Jimin's sorrow into a dance. Maybe some other night Jimin would be in the mood for one of Hoseok's legful renditions of all the single ladies but tonight he didn't feel like it.

"Yeah you're HOT." Hoseok giggles in fits, his hands coming up to rest on his flushed face. Jimin can smell the alcohol on his friend from the driver's seat, and he can tell by Hoseok's ruffled clothing that he has been dancing for a long time. "Jimin's always HOT! Hotter than hell!"

Hell...

What in Satan's quarters!

Pluto's freaked out remark resonates in Jimin's head as he enters Seokchon-dong, the neighborhood in which they live. The memory makes Jimin smile. His buddy Pluto was nothing as he expected him to be, but in a sunflowery (the yellow of Pluto reminds him of sunflowers) good way.

"Ahhh I made you smillleee!!" Hoseok chants, tapping a fist against the window. The AC has cut the worst heat out of the air, but it's still pretty humid in the car. For the middle of spring, it's an obnoxiously hot night. "I made Jimin smile! Finally!"

Jimin says nothing as he pulls into their driveway and parks the Camry. He's always careful to be quiet whenever he gets back from his super late shifts--Jimin knows the Lees are working class citizens and their child has school early in the morning. With a drunk Hoseok, that proves to be a little difficult, but nonetheless, Jimin manages to get his friend into their side of the duplex without too much effort.

Thirty minutes later, Jimin's stripping down for bed, a toothbrush in his mouth as he struggles to peel his pants off of his thick legs. Hoseok's light snoring from down the hall lets him know his friend has clocked out.

"Stu...mmm...pid...pants." A fleck of toothpaste lands on the pants as Jimin tugs angrily at the ankle. Why must skinny jeans always get stuck at the ankle? "Mmm! Asshole pants..."

Jimin rushes to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth and rinse out his mouth. When he returns to his bedroom in his boxers, ready to jump underneath the sheets and shut his eyes against the horrors of the night, he notices a tiny white square settled on the floor next to his nightstand. Confused, Jimin picks up the object and holds it to his lamp.

"Huh? Ugh..."

Jimin instantly opens the drawer of his nightstand, tossing the napkin with call me baby!!! :) scrawled messily across it against some old bartending books. Jinyoung is likely never going to get a call from him, and he'd prefer it that way. From Busan or not, Jinyoung didn't seem like his type for the most part.

"Rest in Satan's quarters, napkin."

Jimin shuts the door of the drawer quietly and slips into bed.

Exhausted from work and tired of being at odds with himself, Jimin falls asleep that night quickly, dreaming about a creepy sponge character dumping soup on Jinyoung's head.

.

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