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mean yoongi[05:31pm]: pls tell me you at least left your building

You[05:31pm]: i’ve at least left my building

mean yoongi[05:31pm] : but are you lying

Jimin giggles at the text, turning off the light in his bathroom after checking his hair for the umpteenth time, trying to make sure the blond strands fall perfectly in place. If anyone were to ask why he cared so much, he wouldn’t admit it’s because he’s trying to impress Yoongi. He’s had a crush on the guy for the past few years or so, feelings that developed over time during college and after. It was almost shameless, the back and forth they had with each other.

mean yoongi[05:35pm] : ok now i know youre lying.

mean yoongi{05:36pm] : you’ve tooken hours getting ready for smaller things

You[05:36pm] : It’s ‘taken’

You[05:36pm] : and who said going to the movies with you was a big thing o.O

mean yoongi[05:36pm]: uh cause youre going with me? duh?

Jimin wouldn’t necessarily call what he and Yoongi have a flirtationship; it’s more of something that comes right before that, an inkling that both carry out when they speak to each other. A year or so ago, Jimin would have been fine with this. Hell, he would have been fine with a flirtationship, but Yoongi invited him out tonight to see a new horror film (Jimin is certain Yoongi chose that genre on purpose because Jimin absolutely hates scary movies) and Jimin thinks this may be his shot.

So, yes, Yoongi is right that he is lying about having already left his apartment (he is literally closing his door right now) but he needed to look good; good enough to make Yoongi keel over at his beauty, stumble over his own words, or just tell him he looks nice (Jimin will take any of the three, really).

The walk to Yoongi’s apartment is short, maybe ten minutes or a little bit more, and Jimin walks briskly since the winter air is cold. The world feels empty, what with everyone either in their homes or wherever they work, and it makes Jimin feel at ease.

He’s not sure how long he’s been walking, but there’s suddenly a biker coming down the street, going in Jimin’s opposite direction. He swerves almost drunkenly, and Jimin can feel his heartbeat rise in anticipation just looking at him. Finally, the biker falls off and before Jimin can think properly, he’s running forward to see if the person is okay.

Once he is near, Jimin can tell the boy is bigger than he is, at least in height. He is only wearing a small jacket and jeans, curling into a ball as he nurses the side that hit the pavement.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, though it seems like a stupid question. So, he clarifies. “Does anything feel broken?”

“I can’t feel anything,” the man groans in a deep voice. It only pitches upwards when his groan tapers off into a whimper.

Jimin moves closer, eyes zeroed in on the man’s body before he kneels down, trying to hold him still enough so he can try to assess any damage.

Everything moves too fast, then: the hand much larger than his wrapped around his wrist, said hand tugging him off balance until he’s face first on the concrete, the man in front of him getting up to wrap his arms around Jimin’s chest, the screeching noise and the thundering roll of a door opening.

“Get in, hurry up!” another voice calls out, and soon Jimin can feel himself being lifted. It’s pure adrenaline, fight or flight that causes his legs to kick violently, his arms trying to wiggle free from this guy’s embrace, but his voice is still stuck in his throat.

After he’s thrown into the bed of a van he hears the deeper voice say, “I’m driving; scoot over.” And the car is lurching forward.

Jimin finally gains some sense of balance, sitting up and finding an empty bed in front of him while two men sit in the front seats behind him. Jimin has so many questions, so many things to say, but the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Who the fuck are you two?”

“Just shut up,” the man in the passenger seat says, not bothering to look back.

Jimin wants to continue yelling, talking, riling these men up, but instead he looks around the van. It truly is empty ; so much room and so clean, it almost confuses Jimin on what is actually happening. Is he being kidnapped? Pranked? Did they pick up the right person?

Windows. The back door has windows. Jimin wonders if he can scoot towards them discreetly…

Suddenly the car is turning around, knocking Jimin on his side, head hitting the wall hard with a thud . He suppresses the groans, not wanting to cause any more attention, and sits back up again. They’ve made a U-turn and are going in the direction he’d been walking in. They might pass Yoongi’s apartment.

There’s some type of joy that courses through Jimin’s veins as he knows the area they’re driving in, and he inches himself closer and closer to the window. The streets are still empty, safe for a few pedestrians, but he sees one as they come up on Yoongi’s building, and he slams his open palm against the window.



Jungkook turns back at the second thump, the first one no doubt caused by Taehyung’s crazy driving and erratic U-turn skills. But the next one is out of place, and he turns just as he hears Jimin call out someone’s name.


Oh, Jungkook thinks. There are windows in this van.

“You idiot,” he hisses at Taehyung. “You got a van with windows in the back. How the hell are we supposed to get away with this?” Jimin is still yelling out this for this “Hobi” person, and every second makes Jungkook more and more anxious.

Taehyung shrugs, hardly taking his eyes off the road ahead of him. “I don’t know I was just following orders and Namjoon said ‘get a van’.”

“Yeah but if there’s windows someone might notice a guy fucking screaming and banging against it.”

Jungkook knows Taehyung is scared. This was his first time ever doing this and he still hasn’t quite gotten used to his job. “Well, shit, then make yourself useful and go back there and keep him quiet.”

Jungkook wants to keep talking, tormenting Taehyung for fucking up, but he much rather stop the incessant yelling coming from the blond man.

Jungkook crawls to the back, yanking Jimin away from window just as they pass an orange haired man with headphones in, opening the door to the apartment building. He sighs, hardly using his strength to keep the smaller man contained with a hand over his mouth as he turned back to Taehyung.

“Hey, you put the letter in his mailbox, right?”

There’s a stretch of silence that worries Jungkook, and suddenly he’s snapping. “Dumbass, did you or did you not put the letter in the-”

“Oh! I did. Don’t worry, I did.” Taehyung says with relief in his words before he glares back through the rearview mirror. “And I’m older than you, brat, so learn some fucking respect.”

“I’ll learn respect when you stop acting like a fool and give me a reason to show you anything but my middle finger.”

Taehyung, to Jungkook’s surprise, speaks out again. “I’m sorry, who was the one that got him into the truck in the first place, asshole?”

Jungkook scoffs. “I could have done this shit myself. I don’t need you!”

“Okay, so when we get back to Namjoon’s place you can carry that heavy fucker in your-own-goddamned-self!”

Jimin gives a protesting noise against Jungkook’s hand at that “heavy” comment which Jungkook quips quickly. “Shut up.”

Again, to Jungkook’s surprise, Jimin obeys, going limp in Jungkook’s restrain, his eyes going dull, almost like he’s bored. Jungkook eyes their victim suspiciously before pulling himself away, watching as Jimin shifts to sit against the wall with his arms across his chest. Jungkook thinks maybe he should wonder more on this, but only shrugs, crawling back to sit in the passenger seat again.


“Shouldn’t you sit back there with him,” the older one starts, “to make sure he doesn’t try to escape or some shit?”

The younger man shrugs. “Nah, I think he’s mellowed out. Probably doesn’t feel like fighting. Besides we’re almost there.” He glances over at the elder driving, subtly shaking his head. “What?” he asks defensively. “Like you’re so fucking smart?”

There they go again, Jimin thinks. He sighs, sinking further into the hard wall of the van as he tries to tune out the sounds of them arguing. There really is no point in adding to their chaos, Jimin figures not five minutes into hearing them fight like they do. They’ll be their own demise, Jimin thinks.

There’s a muffled chime coming from his pocket, and it takes him all of two seconds to remember. Oh. Right.

He has his fucking phone.

Unfortunately, he isn’t the only one that hears it, and as soon as he thinks to reach for it, the younger man has crawled back to him with his hand out. “Give it.”

Jimin contemplates fighting back the way this man fights with the driver, but then thinks against it, dropping his phone into the man’s hand.

“Great call, Jungkookie,” the driver says in a sickeningly sweet tone. “You didn’t even think to check his pockets.”

The one called “Jungkookie” only sucks his teeth before mumbling, “Shut up.”

Jimin hopes they get wherever they’re going soon. He just might rather be in a dungeon than with these two imbeciles.

Yoongi sends a quick message to Jimin when he sees it getting closer for the time for the movie to start. But it’s not like he’s waiting up; not like he got ready an hour or so before and sat on his couch, ticking down the minutes until he should have texted saying he was here.

No, he was just casually laying on his couch with his laptop (and if his eyes glanced at the time in the bottom right corner, sue him).

Another minute passes, and he hears the door opening.

“You could have gotten the mail,” Hoseok says as a greeting when he meets the socked feet of his best friend.

“I would have gotten it when Jimin came over.” Yoongi is engrossed on whatever is on his screen to give too much attitude.

Hoseok kicks the door shut, peeling off his coat and headphones. “Jimin is coming over?”

“Yeah, we’re going to the movies.” Yoongi can almost hear the smile growing on Hoseok’s face and instantly combats with, “Shut up.”

Hoseok sings. “It’s a da-”

“It’s not a date.”

Hoseok has known about Yoongi’s crush on Jimin for longer than Yoongi even knew, but he was a great friend and decided not to bring it up until the idiot could admit it to himself. Even still, Yoongi sometimes likes to to deny his feelings, leaving it a game for Hoseok to figure out what mood he’s in, if he’ll get the chance to see Yoongi get flustered over the mention of Park Jimin or not.

“He’s late,” Yoongi states, trying his hardest to sound monotone.

“You sure he’s not still getting ready?”

If Yoongi were to answer that question honestly, it would show how much he’d been excited for this not-date, and Yoongi can’t have that. A shrug will suffice.

Hoseok sifts through the mail in his hands, anxiously trying to ignore the ones marked from the phone company and such, no doubtedly bills they would have to pay soon, and trying to find some mail of importance.

In coming across an envelope with no return address or stamp, just some half-assed attempt at writing “Min Yoongi” legibly in print, he stops. Hoseok hardly glances over to his older friend sprawled out on the couch with his laptop on his stomach before he’s ripping through the envelope, ready to read its contents.

The paper has too many words for Hoseok to care, but the first few words have him speaking aloud.

“Hey,” Hoseok calls with an even tone, maybe even slightly confused. “I think someone’s tooken Jimin.”

“Taken,” corrects Yoongi, eyes still focused on his screen.


Yoongi heaves a lazy sigh. “You said ‘tooken’ but you mean, ‘I think someone’s taken ’...wait, what?” Now, Yoongi looks to Hoseok, brows already beginning to furrow in confusion.

Hoseok mirrors his expression, eyes a little wider than usual. “What?”

Yoongi sits up, placing the laptop on the couch in front of him. “Someone’s tooken Jimin?”

At this, Hoseok smiles with a nod, understanding. “It’s ‘taken’,” he corrects. His smile drops at the death glare Yoongi shoots his way, quickly adding on, “But I don’t know man, this letter to you just seems really eerie.”

Grabbing the unfolded paper in Hoseok’s hand, Yoongi begins to read, the first words reading out:

I have taken Jimin.

Yoongi’s head snaps up with another glare to send the younger man, who’s going through the mail again as if they’ll somehow change to something pleasant, like Christmas cards or letters saying he somehow won money for no goddamned reason.

I know how much he means to you, even if you don’t want to admit it to him or yourself.

That part makes Yoongi shift uncomfortably on the old fabric of the couch, sitting impossibly straight.

But at any rate, you owe me money, and when I get that money, you can have your precious Jimin back. You will have to call me for details at the number below( I wasn’t sure where I would be because Jin is home and I’ve told you how he gets lol).

Ah, Yoongi thinks to himself. This letter is from Namjoon. He doesn’t even try to hide the scoff and eye roll when he realizes the situation.

Oh, and it’s Namjoon, btw. You better settle this or something bad will happen to your precious Jimin. I am a man of strange and unusual torture tactics.

Again, Yoongi scoffs. Yeah, if those unusual tactics have to do with sticking a spit-slick finger in a person’s ear, that sure is unusual.

Yoongi takes out his phone, dialing the number until Namjoon’s name pops up (because the idiot probably didn’t know they’d already exchanged numbers at one point) and listens as the phone rings. On the third ring, Namjoon picks up.

“Min Yoongi.”

Leave it to Kim Namjoon to set up a dramatic scene, honestly (in the back of his head, Yoongi thinks that Namjoon and Hoseok would probably be great friends in that aspect, but two of either of them would already set Yoongi into a lower dimension of Hell).

“Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi sighs, playing along. “You’ve taken something of m-”

“I’d be careful of what you say,” Namjoon interrupts. “You’re on speaker, and our Jiminnie can hear you.”

“Goddammit, Namjoon!” Yoongi heaves, standing up and beginning to pace as to keep himself from dying in his very skin. “How much do I owe you?”

“I’ve taxed on interest, you see? A dollar for every day you were late with the payment.”

“That’ not a number, Nam-”

“I’m getting there!” Namjoon says, a hint of a whine in his voice. “Just let me speak!” At Yoongi’s silence, he continues on with his character. “You are, if I recall correctly, fifteen days late on your payment. Thus, you owe me a grand total of sixty-five dollars.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Yoongi hears Jimin in the background, and he can almost picture the anger in his features. Jimin isn’t one to get angry easily, but he could imagine this whole ordeal is quite frustrating (Yoongi doesn’t smile at that at all). “You kidnapped me over sixty-five fucking dollars?”

“Why is there no tape over his mouth?” Namjoon asks. Yoongi hears a deeper voice, one that could easily be scary, but sounds hesitant and unsure at the moment.

“He said he’s sick and can’t breathe through his nose.”

“He’s a hostage, Tae. He’s supposed to be suffering.”

Only then does Yoongi notice Hoseok next to him, pressing his ear close so he can hear the conversation going on through the other end of the phone conversation. Yoongi wants to turn and give Hoseok a disgusted look, but he’s already fed up, and soon he’s breaking through the argument Namjoon seems to be having with someone named “Tae”.

“Yo, Bag-o-Dicks,” Yoongi cuts through, the other end silencing. “I’ll get you your fucking money. Where are you?”

“Oh. I’m at home, in my basement. Jin isn’t here and he shouldn't be home for another few hours. He went to go visit his parents today-”

“I’ll be there.” Yoongi ended the call, finally turning to see Hoseok still in position; a good enough position flick him on the temple, which Yoongi promptly does.

Hoseok grabs the side of his head in pain (they really could be friends, the drama queens) before standing straight with an excited smile. “Can I come with you?”


Hoseok whines, following Yoongi as he searched the living room for his keys and wallet. “Oh c’mon. I could be your sidekick - no, back-up! You’re so small, you can’t hold your own in a fight.”

Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat and smirks. “This is Namjoon we’re talking about. He can barely hold a knife. He’s more of a danger to himself than to others. I’d be more afraid of Jin, to be frank.” He spots his wallet and keys on the table by the door (go figure) and turns on his heels in front of the door. He gives what he hopes is a reassuring look. “I will be fine.”

Hoseok has his arms crossed over his chest. “I know you’ll be fine. I just wanna see this shit go down.”

“Some friend you are,” Yoongi mumbles, not fighting when he feels Hoseok right behind him as they leave their apartment.

The house of Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon is that of quaint and small (a lot different from the lavish man Namjoon makes the former out to be) and one Yoongi only knows of from the outside (he’s never really had any desire to venture inside). Sitting on the curb is a simple white van, and Yoongi deduces that is how Jimin was brought here (the only reason his stomach churns a bit is because he is going to have to deal with Jimin being mad at him, obviously).

“He’s bustin’ your balls over sixty-five dollars when he lives in a house ?” Hoseok ponders aloud. “We share a bathroom cabinet.”

“I’m almost pretty sure they also share a bathroom cabinet, Seok-ah. They’re a couple.” Yoongi rings the doorbell, going stiff at the animated chime of it.

Hoseok gasps. “He’s gay?”

Yoongi stops himself from snapping back, growing anxious by the minute. “Is this really a good time to be worried about people’s private business?” Yoongi pauses before engaging in the topic. “And besides there’s more than just homo and heterosexual, y’know.”

Before Hoseok could answer, the door opens, a young man with bright eyes and dark, side-swept bangs to add to his youthful features staring them down intently.

“Min Yoongi?” His voice his deep, though not as deep as the man from the phone call.

Yoongi nods. “Yes...whoever you are. We’re here to see Namjoon and get this shit over with.”

The boy glances at both men before turning. “Follow me.”

The interior screams “Minimalist!” with the white walls and monochromatic furniture and accent pieces. For some reason, Yoongi feels he can’t give credit of this sleek design to Namjoon, whom Yoongi knows to be a bit cluttered both physically and mentally. But since they’re not here for a grand tour, they make their ways swiftly through the living room and to the kitchen and down a flight of stairs.

“Is this a wine cellar ?” Hoseok can’t help but blurt out, finally making it to the bottom and eyeing the racks of wine lining the brick walls. His eyes finally meet the pathetic display of a torture chamber with a modern light fixture illuminating above a very disgruntled looking Park Jimin and a tall, lanky looking boy and the one known as Namjoon. “You have a fucking wine cellar.” Hoseok states in the direction of Namjoon.

“Who’s this?” Namjoon questions Yoongi, who waves half-heartedly at his friend with a shrug.

“He wanted to come watch me hand you some money.”

“Ah, yes,” Namjoon breathes. “The seventy dollars you own me.”

Yoongi looks up from where he followed his hand to retrieve his wallet. “Seventy? But on the phone you said it was sixty-five.”

“Right, yeah,” Namjoon says with a hiss, feigning embarrassment. “I was actually off by five days. You were twenty days late. I didn’t count the days properly. Must’ve forgot weekends.”

They both remained silent, challenging each other with their eyes.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” Yoongi finally speaks, eyes cut and daring.

Namjoon shrugs. “No money, no Jimin. That is the mantra.” He turns back to the lanky one, nodding at Jimin. “Slap him.”

The one Yoongi assumes is “Tae” looks up, startled at being called on. “For what?”

“To show this guy we mean business. Slap him.”

Tae looks down to meet Jimin’s eyes almost sharing a moment (Yoongi totally doesn’t notice) before looking back up at Namjoon. “But he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

The younger one heaves out a sigh and rolls his eyes. “You’re really not understanding this ‘hostage’ thing, are you?” And with no further preempt, his hand smacks across Jimin’s cheek, the force making his head fall to the side.

“Fucking ouch !” Jimin growls, ignoring the red mark on his cheek and glaring at the younger boy.

Yoongi pipes up now. “Was that really fucking necessary? I’m short five bucks, but I have the majority, so can you just let him go?”

Namjoon smiles. “What’s the mantra, again?”

There’s a collective answer, “No money, no Jimin,” and Yoongi has to turn around when he realizes Hoseok is saying it as well.

“Seok-ah, do you have five dollars I can borrow?”

Hoseok smirks. “Uh, have you not learned your lesson about borrowing money, yet? C’mon man.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jimin voices. “ I have five dollars, and Yoongi, you don’t have to pay me back. I just wanna go home .”

Hoseok whispers not-so-silently, “I thought you guys were supposed to be going to the movies later.”

Slowly, Yoongi glides his palm over his face. This can’t be real. This has to be a sick, twisted dream. This really cannot be happening.

There is the sound of a door closing upstairs, followed by a light, “Namjoon?” and suddenly the room goes completely still.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon whispers before making his way up the stairs.

Tae laughs, looking at where Namjoon’s figure proceeded. “Mom’s home.”

“Hey,” Namjoon calls with a smile as he closes the basement door, finding Seokjin in the living room. “You’re home early.”

Seokjin shrugs, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter before making his way to the cabinets for a glass. “Well, my parents had plans for tonight and that kind of inspired me to take you out and Namjoon are you hiding something?” His words flowed together so smoothly that Namjoon has to take a second to process it.

“Huh?” He asks dumbly.

“I said, ‘Are you hiding something?’.” Seokjin seems calm, busying himself with getting a glass of water before turning to lean against the counter and look at his barely functioning boyfriend.

“No.” It comes off too terse, too clipped, and now Namjoon is aware of himself, too aware of his shoulders and his face and his breathing. How does he look?

Seokjin nods, placing the glass down after a long sip and makes his way over to the window in the living room, looking out and scanning at nothing.

Except there’s a white van and a drabby old Toyota right behind it.

Seokjin sighs, shaking his head before walking back over to a very tense Namjoon. “Do you know how bad you are at lying?” He asks sweetly.

Namjoon moves his head. “No.” Another lie.

In the quiet of the room, Seokjin quickly pieces everything together, and sighs, staring almost disappointedly at his loving boyfriend.

“Did you kidnap someone again?”

Namjoon scoffs, but looking at the tired expression on his boyfriend’s face, he decides to stay silent.

“Y’know, one day you’re gonna get yourself arrested.”

Namjoon follows as Seokjin goes to the basement door. “And you’ll get me out because you love me.”

Seokjin mumbles, “The fuck I will,” though he can’t deny Namjoon is right. Seokjin is met with five pairs of eyes, all wide and shocked as if they’ve been caught doing something against his wishes.

Then there’s Yoongi, whom Seokjin has met on one or two occurrences, with his wallet in his hand. Him.

“How much do you owe him?” Yoongi’s bottom lip begins to poke out, thinking it over. “And don’t count that interest rate bullshit he likes to add on. How much money did he give you?”

“F-fifty dollars,” Yoongi mutters, somehow feeling small in front of a man 110% done with this situation.

“And do you have that?” When Yoongi nods, Seokjin hold out his hand, snatching the fifty dollar bill with a kind smile before slamming it to Namjoon’s chest. “Here. Now, tell your idiots to untie this poor boy.”

That causes a reaction from the two “idiots”, both arguing futilely that “I’m not an idiot.” But they soon quiet later, doing as they’re told before mumbling apologies at Jimin.

When Jimin makes his way over to Yoongi, Seokjin stops him. “On behalf of Namjoon, I’m sorry you had to deal with this shit. And for fifty dollars-”

“It was seventy,” Namjoon tries to say.

“-but don’t be too upset with Yoongi. No one ever really knows what kind of hell they’re getting themselves into when they meet Namjoon and your boyfriend was just another one of them.”

Jimin blanches, mouth wide and cheeks going rosey as he glances back to see Yoongi is in the same state. “Uh, Yoongi isn’t my boyfriend. W-we’re not...together.” Underneath the embarrassment there is a pain that hits at how true those words are, and much Jimin wishes they weren’t.

Seokjin only shrugs, lowering his voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Well, Namjoon chose you for a reason. You must be pretty special to Yoongi.”

Special , Jimin thinks, trying to combat the deeper flush spreading up his neck. “Right. Um...thank you.”

Standing before Jimin, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. Hoseok, fortunately, is to the rescue, placing hands on both of their shoulders to shove them towards the stairs. “Let’s go.”

“So,” Yoongi clears his throat when they sit in the car, Hoseok in the back seat. “Do you seriously want to go home?”

Jimin’s voice is small as he answers, staring at his hands in his lap. “Yes, please.”

Yoongi drops Hoseok back at their apartment first before he starts heading towards Jimin’s building not too far away.

The air is thick with too many different thoughts, emotions. But Yoongi chooses to speak. “I’m.. really sorry you had to go through something like that. You have every right to be mad, yell at me, ignore me, do whatever you want. I understand.”

Jimin nods. “Whatever I want?”

Yoongi glances over to Jimin before nodding in response. Neither say anything after that until Yoongi parks in front of Jimin’s building. Yoongi expects it to be left at that, watching from his peripheral as Jimin takes off his seat belt. But when Jimin leans toward him instead of the door to get out, he stills, holding his breath until he feels the soft flesh of Jimin’s lips on his cheek.

It feels too good for so little, a sensation trailing down the side of his neck and through his chest until he finally exhales. He chances to look at Jimin when he sits back in the seat.

“Do you wanna come in and watch a movie? I’m just a little anxious to be alone right now.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate. “Yes...yeah. Yeah, sure. I can…yeah, okay. I can do that. Yes.”

As he locks the car and walks with Jimin, he seriously hopes this is not a dream. How could a kidnapping possibly help him end up with the guy he likes?

namjoon[09:59pm]: hey so i’m sorry about what happened today. I may have gotten a little carried away.

namjoon[09:59pm]: it’s namjoon btw

You[10:00pm]: yes, who else could have made my day shittier than you

You[10:00pm]: but don’t worry so much. Jimin forgives you kinda

namjoon[10:00pm]: oh thats good

namjoon[10:01]: is he not mad at you?

You[10:04pm]: on the contrary, we’re together rn

You[10:04pm]: you kinda...helped us or some shit

namjoon[10:06pm]: holy shit i need to tell jin. maybe then he’ll let me sleep in my own bed

namjoon[10:06pm]: maybe we can all hang out sometime

namjoon[10:06pm] : i saw tae eyeing your friend pretty hard

You[10:10pm]: tell tae good luck cause as far as i know hoseok is straight af

You[10:10pm]: he’s tooken that kinsey scale test

namjoon[10:10pm]: it’s taken

You[10:11pm]: have fun sleeping on the couch idiot

namjoon[10:11pm] : have fun sleeping with the guy you like

namjoon[10:11pm]: you’re welcome btw