Chapter Text
The clock on the wall shows eleven, the whole place is empty, except from Jimin who is cleaning the last few tables and his coworker who keeps glaring at him to hurry the fuck up.
She keeps sighing exaggeratedly instead of helping to clean up. There are supposed to work as a team, but everyone does theirs portion of work and then dips.
They close up the dinning in silence and part without a single word.
Jimin doesn’t care, he is in hurry to get home. He takes the last bus that drives to the east part of the city, he bought the apartment there a few years ago, it was a poor district, large part of the buildings were abandon or in a bad condition, but that’s what made the apartments so cheap. But for Jimin, unluckily, he was late on the rent this month, again.
‘I’ll finish collage, find a part time job and move out as soon as possible’
Least to say, that didn’t happen.
He didn’t think that after a few years he will be a collage drop out, working a job that he despises, and still living at the same place. He walks up the old stairs with the rusty handrail, the green color started peeling off long time ago. He struggles with his keys before unlocking the door, he has to pull the doorknob towards himself to unlock, and then push the door open.
Jimin always hated how much noise they made.
He drops his jacket on the floor, between all the mess that’s already there, Jimin doesn’t remember the last time he cleaned up, doesn’t remember the last time he cared about anything really.
He walks down the narrow hallway towards his bedroom and reaches for the pouch under the bed, briefly glancing at the other bag, that’s pushed further back. It contains his dance clothes and dance shoes.
Jimin used to dance.
He doesn’t anymore.
It’s pitiful really, how hard he used to work, sacrificing food and sleep just for dance, in the end it was all for nothing, or maybe it would be worth it if he haven’t given up on himself.
He sits on the bed; it’s situated right in the corner of the room near the window. Jimin unzips the pouch, taking out his angel powder, the spoon he always uses, his black lighter and a small syringe.
He squints at the tiny bag in his hand, swearing that there was a lot more inside the last time, maybe his memory is deceiving him. It wouldn’t surprise him.
He shifts the rest of it in the spoon and flicks the lighter, bringing the spoon above the small fire, watching it melt slowly, he spaces out through it.
He takes the syringe pulling the translucent liquid inside, he flicks the head of it to make the bubbles disperse before he pulls the sleeve of his t-shirt above the elbow. The creek of it is covered in blue splotches from constant penetration of the needle.
He doesn’t have any problem locating his vein as he pushes in, and presses the liquid inside.
It takes a while, but when the effect hits, it’s euphoric, he savors the feeling as much as possible. He throws the needle next to him, leaning his head against the cold wall, it’s his everyday ritual, Jimin doesn’t thing about anything else through the day, itching to get home just to shot poison up his veins.
Jimin wishes he had better view from his window, but he has to look at a building that's slowly, but steadily falling apart on the other side of the road.
He falls asleep just like that, covered with a thin blanked and leaning against the cold wall.
Jimin wakes up around ten, the fact that he had a morning shift catching up to him just after he got up from bed. But there is no reaction from him, he doesn’t hurry to get dressed and leave, doesn’t panic and try to call his boss and apologize.
It happened a few times before, it will be fine, it’s just work- he has more important matters today.
He goes to the bathroom and takes a quick shower, without getting his hair wet, it’s autumn and days are just getting colder, and he doesn’t have a hair dryer. He stumbles out of the bath, almost loosing his balance, he lazily brushes his teeth, watching his reflection in the foggy mirror. His bangs are falling long over his eyes, his skin is dull, and he strictly avoids examining the rest of his body.
In the kitchen, he eats a handful of dry cereal, just enough to keep him going, his fridge is empty, except for a few things that had rotten long time ago. Sometimes he wants to laugh at the fact how much he doesn’t care, how apathetic he became.
He throws on his grey jacket, way too thin to keep him warm from the cold, autumn wind, he slips on an old pair of converse and heads out. The hallways smells unpleasantly of oldness and humidity. His neighbors are all kinds of people ranging from struggling young couples to old and ill, to very shady guys and broken collage students.
There is a student that always greets him when they cross paths, but Jimin always avoids his gaze, he reminds him too much of what he used to be like.
And like a coward, he is afraid, refusing to face the consequences of his own actions- justifying it behind an excuse- I’ve always been like this, I would fail in life sooner or later.
No reason to feel guilty.
It doesn't matter I am gonna be dead one day anyway.
Nothing really matters anymore.
He makes his way out of the building, rounding the corner. He slowly gets lost inside the concrete labyrinth, passing between hidden, dark alleyways, before he reaches his destination.
There, leaning against the wall is a person that Jimin depends on the most, have been for a few years. There are other people around too and Jimin is aware that he is not the only one interest in what the man has to offer. It feels like everytime he comes back, he leaves a bit of his dignity behind, at Jeongguk's feet.
Right now, he isn't sure if he has any left.
The man sends him a sly smile, Jimin never knows if he is happy to see him, or if he is just making fun of him in a way that says ‘Look at you, I knew you would come back”.
No one pays any attention to him, and he stares at his feet before finally moving forward, he was always intimated by the older man. He would avoid Jeongguk if he didn’t depend on him too much. He was very socially awkward, and his addiction stripped him of any social skills he previously possessed.
He was scared to lose the connection.
“Hey” Jimin greets him weakly, lifting his head enough to meet the middle of the man’s broad chest, he doesn’t care how pathetic he looks, he just want his powder and leave.
There is a cigarette hanging from Jeongguk’s lips, the only addiction he allows himself to have. He is leaning his head against the wall, looking down at Jimin with dark eyes- he never says much- and Jimin doesn’t know what he hates more, his stares, or his lack of words.
He takes a long drag, blowing the smoke right into the space between their bodies before he reaches into his pocket taking out Jimin’s precious ‘angel powder’, carefully weighted out.
Jimin reminded him of a kitten, the one that scratches at your door, and once you feed it, it always keeps coming back for more.
Jeongguk doesn’t mind, and he knows very well that the boy is going to hit a rock bottom soon, and then, he will be desperate enough to do anything just to get his daily dose.
He would be blind if he didn’t see how pretty the boy was, like a rose, and Jeongguk watched him wither over time. He just seemed more lost every time he came here.
He liked toying with Jimin, watching the boy stumble over his words, if that makes him a bad person- so be it.
“That’s gonna be one hundred” for a second, Jimin thinks he heard wrong, he lifts his head to meet Jeongguk’s gaze, but the man doesn’t look like he is joking, lifting an eyebrow at Jimin’s reaction.
“W-what?” he asks in a small voice, it’s never that much.
“It’s always 70” he trails off, reaching into his back pocket for cash.
“Things change honey, if you can’t afford it, leave”
“I can“ he blurs out and starts to count his cash, Jeongguk watches the way his hands tremble as he counts the money carefully. Jimin freezes for a short second when he realizes that he indeed can't afford it.
“Wait-“ he searches every single pocket, finding another 20 bucks in the inner pocket of his jacket- the money for groceries.
His need for higher, stronger doses keeps increasing, and his salary can’t keep up with all his expenses, something has to go.
Jimin counts the money again.
“I have 90” he whispers, there is legitimate fear in his eyes when he looks at Jeongguk.
“I said 100” the man repeats himself, pulling another long drag from his cigarette, few black hairs that escaped his bun frame both sides of his face, bringing up his sharp features even more.
Jimin nervously licks his lips, swallowing down his embarrassment.
“Can you- can you write it down? Please, I swear I’ll pay you back”
“And how exactly are you planning on paying me back?”
“I’ll get a paycheck by the end of the week” he says surely.
“It’s gonna be 20 by then, hope you are aware of that”
Jimin wanted to scream that it isn’t fair, but at the same time, he would sign deal with the devil himself if Jeongguk told him to.
“I’ll pay” Jimin tries to sound confident, but he is far from it and Jeongguk knows it, the man rolls his eyes and takes the money from his hand. He pushes himself off the wall and counts the money again, humming to himself, he throws the cigarette on the ground and stomps on it.
Jimin never failed to noticed how the man eyes linger a way too long on the exposed parts of his neck, or on his lips, he didn’t try to hide it either.
He tucks the money inside of his jacket, he sees how Jimin’s hand twitches and he pretends to give him the bag, just to ‘accidently’ drop it between them.
The boy doesn’t hesitate a single second, dropping to his knees to pick the small bag up and he safely tucks it away inside of his pocket.
He quickly stands up, putting a bigger distance between them before muttering a quite “thank you”.
Jeongguk lets him go easily with a single nod of his head, even though he knows Jimin isn't going to keep his promise.
He feels the man's piercing gaze burning holes into his back, and Jimin feels like he can finally breath when he rounds the corner.