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The Gentlemen

Chapter Text

They’re all waiting there by the time you arrive.

In perfect time, they all glance up with the sliding of the glass door and the oldest of the contestants, Seokjin, shuffles aside on the packed couch to make room for you.

It’s odd still; having cameramen spotted around the house and outdoor area, crouched in corners or tucked behind furniture, but you try to ignore them as best you can, sitting carefully between Seokjin and Taehyung.

Still hesitant with names, you mentally run through a roll call, working out who is who. You’d met each one of the seven Gentlemen only briefly before, an awkward staged introduction that had to be filmed multiple times due to Namjoon getting his directions mixed up, Taehyung breaking into laughter on several occasions, and Jungkook forgetting his lines.

Then, you’d been instructed to go get ‘dressed down’ a bit (aka the boys loosening their ties or removing their blazers, and you swapping some heels for house slippers) and get to know each other properly over dinner.

You feel some of your nervous tension ease away with deep breaths tinged with the meaty smell of the barbecue in the middle table. At least you’d be spending the next two months in relative luxury. “Who’s on duty?” you question to the group, willing your stomach not to growl.

Jungkook, on the couch to your right, clicks a pair of meat tongs with a broad grin. Out of everyone, the youngest contestant was like a ball of energy all afternoon, and it certainly helped in breaking the ice. “How do you like yours, Y/n? Charcoal, well done, or still oinking?”

You wince. “Well done is fine. Can we put some of the onion on too?”

Jungkook acquiesces, spreading the long cuts of raw onion between the strips of sizzling meat. Directly to your right, Taehyung’s cheeks are already full with the bread roll he’s devouring, and some of the older men begin to reach forward, filling bowls with rice, soybean paste stew, and several side dishes that fill the table. Hungry yourself, you coo gratefully as Seokjin pats your knee and begins to fill a bowl for you, handing you a pair of slim metal chopsticks.

Leaning his head in conspiratorially, Seokjin keeps his eyes on the round metal grill, fired by hot coals below. “I guarantee you the kid will get distracted in conversation and let the meat burn. Should I break protocol and steal the tongs off him?”

You grin around a spoonful of silky tofu, hot and subtly nutty from the broth. “It would be inhumane to let good pork like that be poorly cooked. Besides,” you remark in a lower tone, “I might get the better pieces if the barbecuer is right beside me.”

He lets out a warm chuckle, setting down his own bowl of rice, half-eaten. “You have all the power here, I suppose. D’you reckon I should start sucking up to you early?”

“Never any harm in it,” you venture innocently, though your eyes glimmer as you grin at him. “Though if all of you catch on to that approach, I might end up leaving twice as heavy.”

Seokjin stands up swiftly, plucking the silver tongs out of Jungkook’s unsuspecting hand without giving the boy a chance to protest and sits back down, already beginning to turn the slices of meat to give the other sides a chance to cook. “Listen, I may only be here for a week for all I know, and I still intend to leave here twice as heavy. I tried going to the kitchen to check out what they had and the production team told me off. But the amount of shopping bags on the bench and floor was unreal. I can’t wait to get my hands on some quality ingredients.”

He seems happy to keep talking, but you make a confused noise in the back of your throat. “Wait; you’ve been inside?”

“Only briefly,” Seokjin dismisses warmly, slipping the bowl out of your hands to top it up with some still-sizzling pork and sweetly caramelised onion. “I had to pee and one of the PAs led me through like a little kid. Looks like they’re still setting up, which is why we’re out here for the time being.”

You hum in consideration, picking up a piece of meat with your chopsticks and blowing on it. “Are we allowed to talk about those things? The behind-the-camera stuff, I mean. I would’ve thought it would break the fourth wall for viewers.”

Seokjin chuckles, piling more meat into your bowl, then some on his. “People go onto porn sites to jack off,” he replies casually as you pop the morsel of pork into your mouth, “the editors can just cut all this boring shit. We shouldn’t watch what we say for a whole seven weeks just because people are gonna get a bunch of half-hour episodes.”

“That’s true.” You mull it over, giving yourself time to truly savour the amazing taste of the barbecued pork. Just fatty enough to fall apart after being cooked, you barely had to chew, enjoying the way the juices made your tongue water. If this was the first night, you were certainly looking forward to many delicious meals in the future. “God, this is so weird, but at the same time it isn’t?”

Before Seokjin gets the chance to reply, hastily swallowing down the heaped spoonful of rice he’d shoved in his mouth as you were talking, your attention is caught by someone’s torso filling your vision, scooting around to perch on the edge of Seokjin’s lap. The older man gapes as Jung Hoseok grabs not the tongs, but Seokjin’s hand itself, and uses it to maneuver some of the cooked pork directly into his waiting mouth, moaning wantonly at the taste. Your eyes widen at his bubbly brazenness, so far removed from the stern-browed dom persona they’d asked him to use in the introduction. “I know we’re all here to impress Y/n,” he starts, wasting no extra time as he empties the grill, slightly overcooked onion and perfectly tender slices of meat into the five bowls that are suddenly thrust into the air. “But the rest of us are starving here, my good friend. I asked the PA and he said there’s no more meat for tonight.”

Your eyes widen, heavy bowl feeling shameful in your grasp. “I’m so sorry! I’ve got heaps; here, have some.”

Seokjin, from behind Hoseok’s back, lets out a guilty laugh. “That’s on me, I thought there was more meat. But hey - look at us getting all chummy so early in the show! We’re bonding,” he announces decisively, wrapping his arms low around Hoseok’s waist and resting his head placidly on Hoseok’s back.

Finally having dished out the last of what was on the grill, Hoseok tosses the tongs down with a metallic clang, reaching awkwardly behind him to pat Seokjin’s hair. “Once this is over, you better be giving me free therapy then, old man.”

Seokjin’s hands and face leave the younger man like he’s been electrocuted. “Brat.”

“Brat tamer,” Hoseok corrects smoothly with a smirk. “And you should count your blessings; Yoongi-hyung is going to check out the mole on my right ass cheek to make sure it’s not cancerous. At least in therapy you don’t have to see my ass.”

Image slightly distorted by the odd waft of steam, Min Yoongi pinches his brow with a sigh. “I already told you I wasn’t going to do that, Hoseok, you need to go to a doctor and get it actually tested. And we met less than an hour ago, you can’t call me hyung yet.”

Hoseok’s perky, slightly elfin face sinks into a pout for barely a few seconds before springs back into cheeriness. “Okay, Mister Min. I’ll call you hyung tomorrow.” He pauses another moment, sucking at his lower lip. “But how am I meant to get tested if I can’t leave the villa?”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, voice a dry drawl. “Y/n can just vote you off first then, if your health is at risk. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Hoseok tuts disapprovingly. “You’re no fun. In fact, neither is Seokjin. I’ve been sitting on your lap for ten minutes and you’re still not hard.”

The eldest makes a squawk of outrage. “I’m not a horny teenager!”

“True,” Hoseok mulls, eyes floating around the room to land on Jungkook, who’s watching the scene with wide eyes and stuffed cheeks. When Hoseok stands up suddenly and approaches in his direction, the young boy makes a muffled cry of protest. “Jungkookie,” he sings playfully, edging his way around the table. Before he makes it, however, a single glossy shoe rises up in front of his knees, blocking his path forward.

Park Jimin, who’d been eating perfectly quietly until now, raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “He doesn’t want you to.”

Hoseok eyes the younger man, a picture of stern placidity with his navy blue hair coiffed and his plump lips pressed into a line. Unlike the rest, Jimin had chosen not to remove any of the formal wear from the introduction shoot, seeming perfectly at ease in a black silk blazer and impeccable skinny tie. Hoseok, however, had slipped off his shoes the moment you’d finished filming, choosing to keep casual in a plain white shirt, dress pants and comfortable slippers. He swallows hard, taking a step back to show Jimin he’s not looking for a fight. “All good,” he says airily, “I didn’t mean to start anything. We’re just having fun.”

“And your fun isn’t worth another person’s comfort,” Jimin explains coolly. “I would’ve expected someone with experience in the BDSM community would be more in tune to matters of consent.”

Once that word is uttered, a tense feeling fills the space, everyone’s faces tightening in discomfort. Jungkook rushes to swallow his mouthful, hands flailing. “I was fine, honestly!” he announces in a pitch heightened with concern. “I knew he was just joking around, and I would’ve said something if it didn’t- if I was uncomfortable. It’s fine, Jimin. Hoseok.”

Jimin settles back in his seat with Jungkook’s assurance, lowering his foot. Beside him, Namjoon stares blankly down at his bowl, jaw working at the awkward energy amongst the participants. Jungkook’s cheeks are bright red as he tugs his sleeves over his hands, covering them with the sweater paws. Hoseok continues walking around, but goes past the young boy, muttering a low word of apology before returning to his original spot beside Yoongi, who looks disappointed at the proceedings.

Anxious to diffuse the strain, and aware cameras are filming every moment, you clear your throat. “So is everyone here from Seoul? Or did you travel a bit to get here?”

Taehyung, to your right, seems relieved at the opportunity to discuss something else. “I’m actually from Daegu but I came here to study. Not quite a native, but I spend most of my time here, yeah.”

Across the table, Yoongi’s eyes light up. “No way! Me too! Well, I went back home after I got my licence. Daegu’s more my pace.”

“I’m from Busan,” Jungkook pitches in. “Jimin too.”

Like clockwork, the rest of you turn to glance at the poised man, who simply gives a nod and a small smile in confirmation.

“Do you two…know each other?” Taehyung questions in surprise. “You both do porn, right?”

“They don’t, there are just like a million comments on Jungkook’s streams and Jimin’s videos saying that they should collab because they’re both from Busan.” Namjoon opens his mouth to keep speaking, but catches himself, cheeks painted a violent red as he realises he’s said too much.

“Do you watch us, Namjoon?” The whole group seems shocked when it’s Jimin, not Jungkook, who poses the question. When he’s not being stern, Jimin’s face is actually quite bright, with plump lips turned up in a sly grin and perfectly sculpted brows lifted high. His voice is lilting, playful, nothing like the scolding monotone Hoseok had received. “I had wondered if our Lady of the show would be a fangirl. I must admit; I never considered we’d have a fanboy.”

Namjoon chuckles in embarrassment, avoiding the curious gazes of everyone around the table. “I mean… You guys are both pretty popular, that’s all…”

“I actually haven’t seen either of you, if I’m honest,” you pipe up, wanting to give Namjoon a chance to breathe. He shoots you a grateful smile, piling some rice and kimchi into his mouth to give himself something to do. “I’ve never been one to watch porn at all, so I’m definitely curious about it all. Maybe I should be watching so I have an idea of what I’m in for.”

Jimin grins at you, wry but dripping in charisma. “Oh, I’m sure Namjoon could give you some recommendations.”

The man himself chokes suddenly, cheeks bulging as he reacts viscerally to Jimin’s teasing quip. Once he swallows down his food in shaky gulps, he lets out a sheepish sigh. “Can we all pretend like I never said anything? I was meant to keep quiet about it until we got to know each other properly and it wasn’t so awkward… I can’t believe I spilt the beans on the first night.”

On his other side, Taehyung reaches across to his couch and pats him on the knee. “You aren’t alone, Namjoon. I watch the gukked97 streams religiously.”

“The what?” Seokjin asks in confusion.

“My streams,” Jungkook pipes up. “My username is gukked97, I’ve been doing weekly streams for a few years now. Cool to know I have some fans here, honestly. We should hang sometime. Outside of the show, I mean; I love meeting you guys. Would I recognise either of your usernames?”

Namjoon, though his face is returning to its usual caramel shade, coughs and declines to comment. Taehyung, however, seems considerably more shameless. “Maybe; I can’t afford to tip you that often, though, so it might not come up in your feed. I’m taebybaby.”

“Taeby!” Jungkook cheers immediately. “Oh my goodness, no, I remember you! How’s your dog, by the way?”

Visibly pleased, Taehyung grins. “He’s good. Still a little anklebiter, but that puzzle toy keeps him occupied during the day when I’m at work. Thanks for the recommendation, by the way.”

Seokjin’s head darts back and forth like he’s watching a tennis match. “I’m sorry; am I the only one that doesn’t know everybody already? You two apparently just met but you know he has a dog?”

“I just watch the streams,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “Jungkook is just really good at chatting with us all and making us feel like a community, you know? It’s actually really wholesome.”

Seokjin mouth opens, closes, and stays shut for a moment as his eyes wander, like he’s running an elaborate calculation in his head. “That’s nice,” he says finally, “sounds like a really healthy place for the both of you. Good stuff.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” Jungkook says warmly, chopsticks held aloft even though his bowl is empty. “And you don’t have to be embarrassed, Namjoon. I do really appreciate that you watch my shows, and I wouldn’t keep doing it if I didn’t enjoy it.”

Namjoon nods with a grateful smile, finally seeming to have calmed down. Taking the lull in conversation as an opportunity, Yoongi scoots forward in his seat and clasps his hands together. “If I may, Y/n, I have a question for you that I think a lot of us are curious about.”

Being pulled into the centre of the group’s attention so suddenly, you blink quickly, taken off guard. “Uh, yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

“This show is sponsored by a pornography company, but you are still living with us for however long we remain in the competition. Will you vote us off based on who you like most overall, or is it exclusively a matter of the best sex that week?”

You hum, smiling at the thought that a question like that is a reasonable one to ask you, that you’ve found yourself in such a strange situation. “I think it’s primarily based around the sex, sure, but sex is also better when there’s a connection there, and I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to vote someone off if they were a really negative presence in the house, you know? Yeah, I suppose to a degree it’s not exclusively the sex.”

Yoongi seems satisfied with the answer, and before anyone else steps in to pick up the line of questioning, a staff member, clothed in a basic black t-shirt and skinny jeans, steps up to the table, informing you that the interior of the house had finished being set up.

“So if you guys could turn in for the night, we’ll prepare the exterior cameras in his area, the pools and the gardens tomorrow when it’s light. Tomorrow we’ll officially start the first week, so please be down in the lounge at 10am for the briefing. We’ve assigned you rooms ourselves, so go find the door which has your name written on the post-it, and your stuff should already be inside.” The staff member pauses, consults her clipboard, and gives you all a curt smile. “And as a final reminder, no sexual activity until the game officially opens. That’s what the briefing is for. Have a good night, all. Oh! There are cameras in your bedrooms, but not in the private bathrooms for each room. The only bathroom with cameras is on the second floor, which is the large communal one. So just be aware. We’ll go through more of those details tomorrow, but I thought you should rest assured that you can shower unseen and get ready for bed in your bathrooms if you still aren’t used to the cameras.”

Everyone stays quiet for a moment after she leaves, processing the news.

“Weird,” Seokjin muses slowly, “so weird that last week I was at a friend’s wedding and now this coming week I’m going to get filmed eating, sleeping, and having sex.”

Taehyung, laughs, a huff of air through his nose. “I’d rather have mounted cameras than cameramen, though. It’s easier to forget when there isn’t a person attached.” He twists around in his chair to where a young, university-aged guy, films the scene. “No offense. You’re doing a great job.”

Yoongi lets out a yawn, and like wildfire, it gets sent around the outdoor dining area, until everyone is stretching, rubbing their eyes or blinking sleepily. “Well, if no one else wants to make the first move I will,” he mumbles. “Goodness, normally I’m up til midnight at least, why am I so tired?”

Jimin consults the heavy silver watch on his wrist. “Perhaps because it is midnight.”

“Really? Fuck. Yeah, then I’m definitely going to find my room. I better not get the smallest one just because I’m short.”

You wait for Seokjin to file out before you do, feeling a wave of exhaustion seep into your bones now that you knew the time. “Does this place have eight bedrooms? I feel so fancy staying here.”

Behind you, Taehyung agrees emphatically. “At least you have job security. Us guys have to hope for the best.”

“Not just hope,” you reply teasingly, “there is one thing you could do that would increase your chances.

Taehyung hums, almost more like a muffled sigh. “Not tonight, though.”

Your reply is caught in your throat as you follow behind Seokjin, entering the villa for the first time. It had seemed massive from the outside - a sprawling, two-storey mansion with gardens out the front, and tennis courts, swimming pools and the outdoor dining area bracketing the three other sides of the building. Now though, as you step into what must be a living room, you realise just how huge the budget must be for this show.

Rather than a normal house, the layout here feels very open. Even though you stand just inside the living room, there’s no real boundary to the kitchen apart from an island bench, and a set of opened French doors just ahead lead to the foyer, which all of you (bar Seokjin and Jungkook, who have gotten sidetracked by the kitchen) step into, cooing in wonder.

It’s easy to lose track of cameras, as they’re studded in every corner, on shelves, cabinets, above doorways, and those are just the ones you can easily see.

You know they’ll be capturing your every reaction, and every minute of your life for the next two months, but Taehyung was right: it’s a lot less invasive and easy to ignore when they’re just there.

The interior itself is gorgeous, but in your sleepiness, you head straight past the living room and kitchen, overtaking Hoseok and Jimin in your haste.

“Are all the rooms upstairs?” you question. The foyer isn’t particularly large, just the front door to your left and the stairs to your right, but running down the length of the stairs just beside is another corridor. “This place is massive.”

You watch as Taehyung jogs ahead, poking his head into the various doors along the hallway, raising his voice so the rest can still hear. “Another living room. Laundry. Huge bathroom.” Out of sight, you hear a whoop. “And a gym! Holy shit!”

“A gym?”

You jump with the sudden voice over your shoulder, whirling around to see Jungkook rushing past, just about skidding on the carpet in his haste to go join Taehyung. As much as you appreciated a good workout, exercise was the last thing on your mind right now. “Bedrooms upstairs, then,” you hum to yourself, seeing Yoongi and Namjoon already making their way up.

The upstairs is a bit more private than the bottom floor, just a basic hallway branching off in either direction with doors for each bedroom.

The doors are open, and instead of beelining for the one with your name on it, you check them out one-by-one. Directly across from the top of the stairs is Namjoon’s room, indicated by a printed piece of paper taped to the door. Namjoon’s already inside, hauling a heavy plastic suitcase onto the bed. It’s decently small, with the bed taking up almost a whole third of the floor space, but the bed itself is big enough for two people, with a lush pale blue duvet and a folded woollen blanket at the end. There’s a door that’s partly ajar to reveal what looks like an ensuite, and it triggers the memory of what the staff member said: that the bedrooms had cameras but not the private bathrooms. Automatically, your eyes dart up to the ceiling, where the beady lens of a camera is angled down to the bed. You sigh. That would take some getting used to.

“Can’t find your room?” Namjoon’s hesitant voice ventures.

You glance back down and shake your head with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m just being nosy.”

“No problem,” he shrugs, “you can come in, if you want. I was just going to unpack a little bit.”

Though the offer is tempting, considering you haven’t gotten to know him much over the evening, you can’t deny the heaviness of your eyes and the yawn that always seems to bunch up in your jaw, waiting to spring it open. “I would love to, but I think the risk of me falling asleep on my feet is too high at the moment.”

“Oh. Of course.” He smiles, but it’s self-deprecating, like he regrets asking, and it makes your heart twang.

“Are you a morning person? How about we eat breakfast together before the briefing? I don’t usually eat much in the mornings, but Seokjin still hasn’t come out of the kitchen, so there must be some good stuff.”

Namjoon laughs at that, and your heart eases. He’s totally unlike the stereotypical image of a virgin; all broad smiles, endearingly messy hair and a single dimple. You were curious to hear more about him, unravel why he hadn’t done anything yet. But that was a venture for another day. “Sounds good,” he accepts with a friendly chime. “I should probably head to bed too, actually. Sleep well, Y/n.”

“You too,” you reply, leaving him to it.

Not wanting to disturb anyone again, you simply observe what you can from the hallway. On either side of the hallway, there are four doors; two on Namjoon’s side, one across the hall beside the staircase, and one on the far end. Picking the left wing, you start down, coming across Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s rooms side-by-side, both empty. Interestingly, the rooms all seem to be different sizes, with slightly different furniture, and you wonder how exactly the staff decided who went where. Taehyung’s room was around the same size as Namjoon’s, but with a narrower bed and a small mounted TV, and Jungkook’s was bigger than them both, with a desk and a bedside table. Across from Jungkook’s open door was a shut one, with the paper reading MIN YOONGI. Hearing no noise, you move down to the final door at the end of the hallway, pausing when you see no name taped to the outside.

Approaching curiously, you notice that this is the first room bunk beds rather than double beds. Likewise, they don’t seem as lushly dressed as the others, almost like ones you’d find at a school camp.

There were two three-high bunks on either side, the highest ones less than half a metre from the ceiling, and below the window one skinny single bed. All of them were basic foam mattresses with a pillow and a folded blanket, and you frown at how barren this room feels compared to the rest.

Deciding to bring it up tomorrow instead of wondering about it now, you turn back the way you came, past the foot of the stairs. Here, you see the open doorway of Hoseok’s room, the man already in a plain black t-shirt and flannelette pyjama pants, humming to himself as he brushed his teeth and typed away on his phone.

Past that, you finally see your own name, and an inviting open door to a room far larger than the other occupants you’d seen. Counting your blessings, you spy your familiar suitcase waiting for you at the foot of the king-sized bed, larger than your own one at home, and the ensuite with a shower and a bath inside.

Like Namjoon’s, the bathroom is sparkling white and camera-free, but you spot at least three in the bedroom itself - two up by the ceiling and one on a shelf of the tall (and otherwise empty) bookcase, pointed straight at the bed. Fantastic.

Then again, this is what you’d signed up for, and it shouldn-


You jump at the soft melodic tone, the sudden noise catching you off-guard. Whirling around to the doorway, you’re even more shocked to see that it’s Jimin, head and shoulder resting against the frame with his ankles casually crossed over. Unlike the rest of him, however, his face is twisted in uncertainty. “Jimin?”

His lip twitches gratefully. “I hate to do this on the first night, but it looks like my assistants didn’t have all of my suitcases brought over, and I can’t find my makeup bag. Do you have any makeup remover?”

“Oh!” Unsure what you were expecting, it definitely wasn’t that. You blink at your still-packed suitcase. “I have one somewhere in there,” you start. “I can drop it off for you, or you’re welcome to just wait here?”

Jimin’s brow knits together. “I’ll wait,” he answers, but rather than stepping in as you’d expect, he remains calmly in the doorway, eyes lidded as they watch you scramble to unzip your suitcase.

Feeling slightly pressured with him just standing there, you root through your stuff, cursing the way you’d haphazardly shoved everything inside when packing. With Jimin’s intense gaze on you, you toss aside shoes, underwear, hygiene products and any of the various items you’d managed to squeeze in, searching for the bottle. Narrow but weighty, you find it slipped down the bottom, tucked between a t-shirt and a lace thong, and you quickly jump up, rushing over to hand it to him.

When you look at him again, he’s lost that slightly unsure expression, and a bemused grin has stretched his plump lips. When you thrust the bottle towards him with an intimidated smile, his fingers don’t wrap around the bottle itself but around your wrist, thumb brushing at your sensitive skin, making your breath hitch.

He draws it out for one agonising second, eyes swirling with something calculating as he applies the slight bit of pressure, and you feel your pulse beat beneath it, speeding up when the tip of his tongue pokes out one corner of his mouth and slowly slides across, wetting his lips in a clearly suggestive motion.

Your stance falters, body wanting to lean in but mind trying to keep boundaries, and you lose your nerve, dropping his gaze.

Like a switch is flicked, Jimin’s hand leaves your wrist, sliding down to gently lift the bottle out of your hands. Though your eyes are lowered, watching the thin oil slosh inside the bottle, watching his perfectly manicured nails tap the plastic, his voice is like soft silk in your ears. “Thank you, Y/n. Will you be needing it back tonight?”

Your tongue works faster than your brain, eager to please. “You can have it for tonight,” you say automatically, bypassing the fact that you have makeup yourself you haven’t yet removed.

Jimin hums, pleased, and you suck in a breath as he takes his free hand and runs it across your cheek, downwards towards your chin where he gives your lower lip the lightest brush, before he pushes off the doorframe, and you hear the dull padding of his shoes down the hallway.

Stunned, you duck your head out, watching him disappear into the room at the end of the hall, the next door down from you. The door shuts, and you feel yourself sink from the tension being cut like a string. What the fuck was that? If Park Jimin had the ability to haze your mind with such a simple touch, you weren’t sure you’d even survive having sex with him.

Staring at the blinking red light of the hallway camera across from you, you make a mental note to watch some of his videos. Any preparation you could do at this point seemed wise.

Before you shut your door and turn in for the night, you glance at the door across the hall from you. KIM SEOKJIN. At some point, he must have snuck up, because the door is shut, rather than swung open like before.

Head full with thoughts, you do your best to remove your makeup with basic cleanser, not even bothering to shower, instead just shucking off your dress in the privacy of the bathroom and stumbling sleepily into a sleep shirt that falls low enough to not require pants.

Leaving your clothes on the tiles and your trashed suitcase on the carpet, you’re asleep before your head hits the memory foam pillow.