Chapter Text
🎶🎵🎶
Between the heat of summer and the cooling harvest of autumn, August brings a sense of change—from schools starting up to the last days of summer fun and the idea that if you work hard, you will survive in this world with happiness or, at the very least, with good people by your side.
Jimin stares at the clouds pouring rain down on the streets of New York. The heavy downpour creates puddles like tiny mirrors that will surely turn him into a kaleidoscope for the world to witness but maybe that’s just a romantic view of his reflection that he doesn’t want to see as he hobbles with his umbrella.
He groans as he balances in the doorway of his apartment building and the tiny awning does nothing to protect his second-hand Chelsea boots. He twists his right ankle, the bones don't even feel like it moves with the motion. He is sure it is swollen like a small balloon with just enough air to be useful but frustrating.
Rain always bothers the once broken ankle—the metal holding the bone together is a blessing because he can walk after months of practice and pain. Now years later, the old injury is just a pain in his ass on days like this.
The first time he walked into work with his limp from his ankle being unhappy with all the rain over the weekend Yoongi thought he had gotten laid and laid well. The embarrassment of telling him that his bones hate the weather made Yoongi offer him a seat, a bottle of water, and the best dating apps. So, the next time he is limping it is because of good sex and not bad bones.
Jimin snorts, tapping his boots along the doorway as the rain starts to lessen. The trees are full as they grow along the sidewalks. His neighborhood is fully mismatched with its apartments, trees, and the loud dreamers of New York. He loves it, but he just hates this rain.
“Mom! Mom, look I am a ballerina!”
Jimin looks up at the small little girl running ahead of her mother—her pink-sparkly rain boots splashing in the puddles as she twists and turns. Her tiny arms are in the air as her smile brightens the messy day.
Her tiny feet carry her like a duck that will one day become a swan—Jimin looks away quickly. His heart beating like an old thing, an old dream of hardwood floors and a spotlight. His eyes burn as he remembers dancing, of a dream that is now so broken he wonders if he can ever find something that makes him live that brightly again. His ankle throbs as if it agrees.
The glow of his phone makes him turn back into the present moment instead of memories and a tiny little dancer who is now down the block with her mother.
A new message from ‘deathhandallhisfriends7’ and Jimin’s blue sorrow turns yellow as he smiles—his friend that he met during a moment of weakness months ago after too much alcohol and access to his laptop. He met the young man in a chat room for music lovers in New York and the sneaky man gave him his phone number before the night ended.
It was all harmless talk—all about music and lyrics. Both of them found out that they love the band Coldplay and shockingly enough Jimin hasn’t had that good of a conversation about music in a while. Which is crazy since he owns a music store! There was—there is something about the man and his love for music. It is almost alive and Jimin can’t help but to cling to it.
He opens their messages and he can’t stop himself from laughing—the ache in his leg and the rainy morning is forgotten as he looks down at his phone.
deathandallhisfriends7: Viva la vida is the best Coldplay song! It is a fact!
Jimin snorts with a shake of his head before replying to the other.
trebleclef13: I think you mean it is Yellow.
deathandallhisfriends7: ???? I can’t hear you over the powerful lyrics of Viva la vida
trebleclef13: Are you a child?
deathandallhisfriends7: 24 but I am still right.
Jimin’s eyes widen as he realizes he is older. Being a twenty-nine business owner and yet, being swept away by someone who probably just graduated college…he quickly shakes his head—clearing away the nonsense. He isn’t swept away by anyone and definitely not this brat at all. He rolls his eyes before typing out his reply.
trebleclef13: Yellow pulls at your heartstrings.
Jimin watches as a raindrop plops on his phone screen—he looks up and it isn’t raining at all. Another drop slides from the awning and onto his phone screen. He looks out onto the street and the puddles are like sheets of glass. No rain shattering the water or a tiny ballerina in pink rain boots.
The sun is trying to break through the clouds and the sun rays are creating halos on the concrete. Jimin stares at the fast-moving rain clouds—heavy like unspoken hurt as they move along like the pain was never even there.
He looks back down at his phone as three more rain droplets have collected on the screen that is lit-up with incoming messages.
deathandallhisfriends7: THE LYRICS…sorry caps lock
deathandallhisfriends7: The lyrics discuss the consequences of power and how it makes you reflect on your own aspirations…I live my life by this song now.
trebleclef13: And I live mine by Yellow
deathandallhisfriends7: That sounds sad but we can talk more later! I will prove to you that my song choice is better! Viva la vida baby!
Jimin rolls his eyes before closing his phone and turning back to watch New York dream without him for the moment. He needs to stop standing in the doorway and start his day—he can see more people appearing on the street after the morning rainstorm that isn’t summer rain or cooling autumn but something in between that leaves Jimin longing. But for some reason, he can’t seem to move forward as he watches the puddles on the sidewalk, the way people’s bodies break the tiny mirrors made of water and Jimin isn’t sure if he would rather be the puddle or the people commuting to work. He is truly pathetic.
He looks down at his phone again and he can’t stop himself from smiling. The unlikely friendship has made the last few months…better. Not perfect or something out of a movie but it gives him another reason to smile.
And he needs a few more reasons to do so.
It is funny how someone he has never met has become such a bright spot in his life—the new ways of communicating through chat rooms, with phones, or meeting people from across the world connect life in ways never seen before. Life needs life. People need each other, they need connection and sometimes Jimin wonders if he had continued to exist loudly then maybe he wouldn’t be staring out his doorway wishing to be a puddle for people to step on.
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Jungkook ponders his collection of ramen as his hips move to the beat of a song blasting in his ears—his iPod sticking out of the pocket of his sweatpants as the cord from his earphones swings in tune with his movements.
He hums as he spies his favorite spicy ramen but it might be too early for ramen like that. He looks over at the clock on the stove—it is blinking a clear 8:02am. He frowns before grabbing the spiciest ramen on the shelf with a grin.
His parents will scold him, and Jin will tell him he isn’t a child anymore but he is still young. Dreams are still dripping out of him like a honey pot that won’t stay clean no matter how many times you try to keep all the honey contained.
Throwing the kettle on the stove he looks out the line of windows that fills the loft apartment with sunlight but not today—rain is pouring from the sky and he frowns. The gloomy day is turning all his trinkets around the space dull.
The collection of CDs, the few records, and his desk are covered in iPods and his computer. He looks over at the wall covered in different headphones—all just waiting to be used. His space is like a music store with its small keyboard in the corner and the guitar he left on the sofa last night with his open notebook of lyrics.
He turns back to the open kitchen just as the water boils—filling the ramen cup with water. A hiss spilling from his lips at the water spills, “Fuck,” he whispers to no one, “What I do for good ramen.” He leans against the counter as he waits for the magic of the water and the steam for his yummy breakfast to be complete.
The music changes in his ears—he stops as Coldplay’s Viva La Vida starts to play. The strings pull him in instantly and his heart pauses at the lyrics. He doesn’t know why he feels so connected to the song. Maybe it is because he understands power—not old kings or revolution but the power of his family’s money.
The Jeons, or more so his father, owns a few clothing brands which then turned into a modeling agency and now it is turning into Jungkook’s music store.
He sighs, tilting his head up and watching the white ceiling like it holds the answers to the universe or, better yet, the way to stop feeling guilty for letting his father buy the building where he will open Golden.
The music store is going to be amazing—he has so many ideas in place and maybe he will finally feel useful instead of a waste. He shakes his head and grabs his ramen which is now soggy.
The ending notes of Viva La Vida die out leaving an ache that sparks an idea—in a glimmer of hope as he leaves his overcooked ramen in favor of his phone. He pulls up his message and heads straight to the name trebleclef13.
He loves the username. The treble clef is the first note on a sheet of music that has higher notes. It is the start of the whole piece. It is super important and Jungkook thinks of his friend who loves music just as much as he does.
Music is something that has always been with Jungkook even through all his hobbies, heartbreaks, and his struggle to find a place in his world after college.
He quickly types out a message with a smile, the ache in his chest easing as he gets lost in another person who understands music as he does.
deathandallhisfriends7: Viva la vida is the best Coldplay song! It is a fact!
He waits—his phone in his head, the rain hitting the windows and the day starting with the hope that his mysterious friend will reply to banter about the fact that this isn’t Coldplay’s best song.
🎶🎵🎶
Serendipity is a small record shop—the tiny building covered in ivy owns Jimin’s heart. The white and black sign with tiny yellow stars still makes his heart flutter like the first day he opened it at the age of twenty-three. Standing on crutches, Yoongi by his side with the keys and a cat carrier.
The inside is full of records from almost every decade. From the major hits to the one-off wonders. CDs, mixtapes, and second hand albums. It is a place where music breathes and people are lucky enough to be able to listen to the life each song creates.
It is Jimin’s home, his safe haven and most importantly it is his purpose.
He fiddles with his keys, the music note keychain getting in his way as he opens the doors—sliding in as he flips on the lights. The overhead lights brighten the place as the tiny fairy-lights and lamps warm the heart of the store.
Jimin drops his bag on the counter as he goes through each corner of the store, turning on the lamps and fixing up some records that got misplaced during last night's rush before closing.
Jimin turns to his record player—it is vintage. It is beautiful. All black, and shiny, and the way music drifts from it would put heaven’s horns to shame. He found a young man trying to sell it since the previous owner was his grandfather who passed away and Jimin couldn’t pass it up. He shamelessly got it for cheap since the other man didn’t care for it. He preferred listening to music on his phone or iPod, unlike Jimin who would rather listen on a record player or his vintage Walkman.
Jimin hums while he places Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours into the player—letting the seventies music flow around like low-lying clouds.
“Magic Man!” Jimin calls out, he doesn’t shout the name a second time, knowing the cat will probably wait until Yoongi arrives before showing its sassy tail but Jimin loves the fuzzy cat.
His voice echoes throughout the store just as the bell above the door rings out, turning around with pink cheeks and an apology on his lips to the customer only to find Min Yoongi standing there out of breath.
Jimin has never seen Yoongi run anywhere but now the older man is huffing and puffing as he throws his black leather bag onto the chair near the door that they placed for Magic Man years ago, “There’s a new store—” The older man says as he strides toward the back of the store.
“What?” Jimin calls out, confused as Yoongi calls for the cat before saying, “Good morning Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says in Korean instead of explaining himself as he holds up a cup of coffee from his favorite shop down the block, “I got you this.”
“You better be glad you got me coffee for this confusing entrance. Are you going to explain or leave me wondering?”
The older man opens his mouth just as the chunky orange cat comes strolling out of Jimin’s office from the back. Jimin is shocked the cat wasn’t hiding in the small coffee area for his customers like he usually is. Jimin grabs his coffee from Yoongi’s hand, not making eye contact with the small but fancy espresso machine in the corner of the store.
He loves coffee but he can’t make it to save this life—the universe must hate him for giving him the love of coffee but none of the patience to make a good cup. His old trusty coffee shop at his apartment is made for people with the need for instant caffeine without the knowledge of a good brew.
Yoongi chuckles, leaning down to let Man Magic brush along his fingers and Jimin rolls his eyes at the sight, “Evil…” he mumbles to the cat who just blinks his eyes slowly.
“Don’t say that to him! He is magic,” Yoongi grunts, making Jimin roll his eyes fondly. “Because you found him after your one-night-stand, who found your prostate?"
“You are telling the story wrong,” He grabs Jimin’s coffee while taking a long sip, “He was tall, handsome and so kind that he asked me three—three times if I am sure! Do you know how rare that is for a one-night stand?” Yoongi says, his voice quiet as always but Jimin knows if he is talking a lot then he is passionate, “I thought I would have to fuck my own fingers—”
Jimin gags which makes Magic Man hiss as Yoongi continues his story, “And I found…”
Jimin nods, “Yes, yes—you found Magic Man while doing your walk of shame that morning while listening to Heart’s Magic Man,” Jimin recounts the rest of the story for him but he will say that it is Heart's best song.
“Kim Namjoon has magic hands as well,” Yoongi states before moving behind the counter to get the register up and running for the day.
“Have you seen him recently?” Jimin asks, a playful tilt to his voice, he already knows the answer but this is his only way to check in on Yoongi.
The other man frowns, “He is back in Korea for a while.”
Jimin nods, letting the subject drop because Yoongi and Namjoon are not together but he thinks Yoongi wishes they were but he tries not to think about it since it will bring up things that ache worse than his ankle.
He slowly puts more pressure on his left side as he leans on the counter letting his sore ankle rest. Yoongi is staying here in New York with him, no, for him. They opened the store together and Yoongi must feel like he can’t leave to chase what he wants. Being by Namjoon’s side and producing music.
He peers at his business partner, the selfless man is everything Jimin is not. Jimin is selfish and so full of unchecked emotions. He drives himself insane with how much he thinks about everything and everyone.
“How’s your crush?”
The question pulls Jimin from the blue color that is taking over his heart, “What?” He asks, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest as his voice goes up an octave to which he clears his throat, “What?”
“The man you are texting…death and his friends?” Yoongi says, completely messing up the username as he finishes going through most of the morning routine as Jimin stands there useless.
“Oh. My friend…”
Yoongi snorts but Jimin continues, “He texted me this morning about Coldplay…”
“Romantic.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, Yoongi really knows how to push his buttons, “Romantic my ass, he wants to claim that the song Viva la Vida is better than Yellow!”
“He deserves his fingernails pulled off for saying that,” Yoongi jokes, “Don’t you always flirt over the best Coldplay songs?”
“Right!” Jimin yells—ignoring Yoongi’s claim that they flirt because that’s not it. They are just passionate. Jimin sighs with a wave of his hand but his leg gives out. He grabs the edge of the counter before he falls—Yoongi doesn’t move but Jimin can feel his eyes on him. The older man doesn’t say anything. Jimin is grateful for that.
Jimin reaches for his coffee, “I think he is going to try and convince me that it is a better song but he won’t.”
Yoongi hums, a laugh twisting in the corner of his mouth and Jimin smiles brightly at his hyung, “It was a good morning.”
“Even with the rain?”
Jimin pauses, turning back towards the front windows where the sun is now shining, “Yeah…” he breathes out as he remembers watching the rain from this morning but he grabs his bag before slipping into the back office but Yoongi follows him.
Jimin plops down in his comfy chair with its mismatched fabric pattern that he keeps adding to because the seams of the chair keep splitting but Jimin loves this old chair that he found on the Upper East Side of Manhattan years ago.
Jimin side-eyes Yoongi who’s standing in the doorway, “Hmm?”
“There’s a new store!” He says again, bringing back the conversation from when he first appeared in the store.
Jimin bites back a laugh—it is rare to see Yoongi acting like this but he doesn’t think the other man will appreciate him pointing it out, “What store?”
“A new music store is opening just around the corner from here,” he says all in a rush, and suddenly Yoongi’s mood is dimmer.
“What?”
“A music—”
“I heard you!” Jimin stands before rushing to the door—he looks back and Yoongi is on his heels, “Want to open ten minutes late?”
Yoongi nods as a twinkle in his eyes appears, his keys appear in his hands as they both rush from Serendipity, “Yes—let's go look at this shop.”
Jimin blinks in the brightness of the sun and he is careful to step away from the puddles from this morning. Yoongi is quiet as they make the journey around the corner. It is barely a block away.
Jimin frowns as he sees the construction—new glass for the front windows, the door is off its hinges as men move in and out like ants. Jimin stops just shy of the door. He doesn’t want to get in the way—he turns his head up and the sparkly new sign stands proud.
Golden.
The front is modern and sleek with tiny music notes dancing around. It looks nice…it is whimsical and Jimin’s heart clenches before he looks at Yoongi who is trying to peer inside. Jimin catches a flyer taped to one of the doors. He scans it before Yoongi drags him away but what catches his eye is ‘music for the modern era’.
He slaps his hyung’s shoulder which has the older man frowning at him before they walk back to Serendipity in painful silence. Jimin’s mind is racing and each thought becomes worse than the next. By the time Jimin is through the door of his own music store that is full of music from generations past and not one iPod or musical instrument in sight. No electrons or anything of the sort. Just music.
Serendipity is a place of memories while Golden looks to be a place of change.
Jimin jumps as Yoongi’s hand pats his shoulder, “It will be okay Jimin-ah.”
Jimin looks at his business partner, his friend…his brother and he gives a small smile, “We can look over the books tonight?”
Yoongi smiles, it’s a soft thing, it is comforting, “Of course, Jimin-ah.” Jimin tries to smile back. Yoongi dismisses him from manning the front of the store for the time being.
Jimin bites his lip as the worry settles in because it is competition but Jimin has survived worse—he swallows thickly at the rush of emotion as he hears, “Jimin-ah?”
He swirls back around and Yoongi is counting the money in the register. His fingers flipping through the bills, “Text your friend.”
Jimin flips him off but he understands. His texting new unconventional friend has been a bright spot in his lonely days.
Deathandallhisfriends7—he is twenty-four, he is passionate about music and he is loud…he reminds Jimin of a puppy. Jimin knows he is Korean through months of texting and loves spicy foods but they mainly talk about music. That is all and Jimin is fine with that. He is a stranger. Jimin frowns, his eyes crossing his store with its magic of music, the dust, and the simplicity of just existing. This guy is just a stranger who makes him smile, who makes him laugh on rainy days but he has responsibilities that don't involve someone he never even met in person. He leaves his phone in his pocket as he starts looking over the sales from last month.
🎶🎵🎶
“You should be excited, Jungkook!” Jin says—the morning rain has turned into a sunny afternoon and Jungkook should be happy right now. He is about to see his passion come to life but he is nervous, or more accurately, his excitement is turning into nerves. His shoulders slump and he takes a deep breath.
The human body is so strange. It can’t tell a dream from reality—can’t tell anxiety from exhilaration.
He looks over at Jin—the man is beautiful. It is almost unfair with his wide shoulders and a face that puts both men and women to shame. But the universe isn’t unreasonable so they gave the older man a laugh that sounds like someone cleaning windows and the arsenal of the worst jokes on earth. Jungkook thinks it is fair.
“Why are you frowning at me?” Jin asks.
Jungkook just rolls his eyes as he mumbles, “Just remembering why we are friends…”
“Because your dad owns the modeling agency I work at?”
“I know that, you fool!”
“Then why did you ask?” Jin counters back and sometimes Jungkook wonders why they are even friends but, honestly, he doesn’t think he would have made it through college without Jin. The older man picked him up from parties when he was socially drained, cooking him homemade meals, and helping him with his studies.
The man is his older brother, his friend and he is annoying as he clings onto his back like a sloth but he is much more annoying and loud as Jin shouts, “Golden will be the best music store on this side of New York!” Jin’s voice makes his ears ring but Jungkook can’t help but laugh because that is the goal. His silly dream—a wish.
Jungkook looks forward and sighs, “I hope so,” he starts, “I want a place to show modern music for today’s listeners. A place for records, CDs but more importantly how technology can make music more accessible.”
Jin leans off his back, “And you will! I have seen your plans for music lessons, DJ nights, and…with your family influence…”
Jungkook turns around as a frown bleeds onto his face but Jin just holds his hands up, “Having money and connections in the business world doesn’t make your efforts less valid or sincere.”
He nods as he starts walking backward, “I know that but after…working random jobs for a year and letting my business degree collect dust…it feels rushed?”
Jin is quiet for a moment, people pass them on the sidewalk—New York is buzzing with people holding coffees, bags, and faces lost in their own lives. This place holds a loudness that Jungkook craves until he doesn’t. He looks down at his feet—his shadow marking the world for this one moment.
“Music has always been your safe haven,” Jin says and Jungkook meets his stare as he continues, “During exams, you would play music for hours to stay calm, when you worked at the cafe you would come home dead on your feet but not tired enough to not pick up your guitar. Hell—I bet you have at least two iPods in your backpack right now just in case one dies.”
Jungkook laughs because he isn’t wrong, “Yeah.”
Jin grabs his shoulders and shakes him, “Opening this business is something you want, Jungkook. Not your father but you. You got this.”
Jungkook blinks back tears with a nod. Maybe everything is feeling rushed because it is falling into place. Maybe he is more than a helpless kid with a love for music.
Jungkook turns back around to face forward and pauses as four New York pigeons crowd the sidewalk. These birds are evil—little menaces and it is only the ones in New York. He knows everyone always talks about the rats but what about these little chubby birds that demand seeds and they won’t move?
He hears Jin sigh, “Your fear of pigeons is still so hilarious!” Jungkook frowns at Jin’s laughter but it doesn’t stop him from moving behind the other man as Jin leads them through the tiny evil creatures.
“They're evil! Probably spies for the government!”
Jin shakes his head, “You are a lunatic.”
Jungkook pulls away from Jin as they pass the birds and Jungkook remembers to use his lungs—he looks back at the birds just as they take flight into the buildings and he wonders how they would feel in the countryside.
“I bet—”
“Treble Clef—”
Jungkook pauses, his eyes narrowing but Jin just laughs, “You always try to bring up your little texting buddy to prove me wrong about something.”
“I do not!”
“You do!”
Jungkook scoffs with a roll of his eyes, “Nope—”
“What about the time you texted him to ask about the meaning of a treble clef when I said that doesn’t sound like it would be music related?” Jin insists with his lips pouting and Jungkook raises a finger but the elder isn’t done, “Or that Chris from Coldplay is at least a nine-and-a-half because of his musical ability?”
“Hey! Singing is sexy!”
Jin looks unimpressed but his point is standing true but Jungkook just shrugs as he pulls out his phone to text that man who has been making the scary feelings of becoming a failure just a little bit better these last few months.
deathandallhisfriends7: Don’t you think pigeons are little evil shits?
Jungkook thinks he would have to wait hours but three little dots appear on the screen and his heart flies around his chest.
trebleclef13: Pigeons? Or government agents?”
Jungkook immediately shoves his phone into Jin's face and he shakes his head but Jungkook grins—he knew his friend would understand. He hears Jin mutter something about birds of a feather.
“Jungkook—” Jin says, his eyes looking at the phone screen still in his face and Jungkook pulls it back to see his father is calling him.
He bites his lips before answering the call as they turn the corner to see the construction of his store—his heart pounds as he greets his father, “Hello?”
“How is everything going?” His father asks. Jungkook can hear his father’s secretary and a few other people in the background.
“Good! I am about to check out the progress now…umm, maybe you can try and come down this afternoon?”
His father is quiet for a moment before mumbling to his secretary and Jungkook listens to his father run his business with ease but runs his relationship with him into the ground.
He shakes his head, that is a selfish thought, “Dad?”
“I will soon, Jungkook—Ah! No, move that meeting until Friday.”
“Okay, I have to go now,” Jungkook says because he would rather leave than hear his father tell him to call him later so they can catch up. He knows it won’t happen.
“I will see you soon, Jungkook! Call your mother.”
“Of course,” he mumbles as he looks at the sign above his shop that is paid for by his father as the line goes dead.
Jungkook sighs and he pushes down hurt because he knows it is pointless when he is about to live a dream. He walks into Golden and he hears Jin behind him.
The place is still a mess but the way the afternoon light is shining into the store—the plaster and the black and gray paint on the walls makes him smile as he runs his hands along the wood counters but it is the ceiling that is painted in gold that makes his eyes well up with tears. Soon it will be covered in stars. He special ordered hundreds of little glass stars that will hang from the ceiling.
There will always be a star to wish on—even in the city with its bright lights that cover the sky each night.
🎶🎵🎶
The day goes on like any other—the same routine from morning emails, to customers rushing in during the mid-afternoon and the students from local schools coming by to hang out after long hours of studying. The extra comfortable bean bag chairs by the listening tables are a small reprieve from the world for busy students.
Jimin jots down a note to clean the public headphones and maybe even order some new ones for them. He smiles thinking about the students' bright eyes that are still so full of love for the world around them.
Evening rolls around and his stomach is demanding recognition for its hard work today. He looks at Yoongi who is cleaning the glass of the doors smudged with fingerprints, “Hyung! Don’t you want to go get us some take-out?”
Yoongi turns back to look at him with a frown, “Can’t we get it delivered?”
“And pay that extra cost?”
Yoongi sighs, “What do you want?”
Jimin laughs as he demands, “Dumplings!”
Yoongi flicks his forehead, “Show some respect to the person who is about to bring you food!”
Jimin grabs his head, looking at him with fake tears, “You will be thanking me later when we are both hunched over my desk going through this month’s sales report!” Yoongi doesn’t answer as he leaves to go and bring them dinner.
Jimin goes to lock the door behind him and flips the sign—closed.
It is a little after ten o’clock—the city is still bright from the windows and Jimin flips the lights off. The office in the back is creating a soft glow with its yellowish light and Jimin leans his forehead against the cooling glass of the door.
His breath fogs up the glass, hiding the world outside—hiding the sky but it is not like he will see any stars in this city anyway. Jimin pulls back before hovering his finger over the mist from his breath but he only hesitates for that moment. He begins drawing stars on Yoongi’s clean glass.
The stars start to fade quickly—dying out faster than lust and nowhere near as bright as the real thing. He quickly blows along his drawings making them reappear again. His crooked stars that don't hold any power or magic keep him company along with the ache in his leg.
It is lonely. He is lonely. He shakes his head in frustration as he turns his back on the once-again fading stars of his own creation and he pulls his phone from his pocket. He looks down at the small device before pulling up his messages with deathandallhisfriends7.
Jimin bites his lip before pacing the small area between the records and the CDs. He told Yoongi that his friendship is nothing more than about music but…he looks down at the other man's last message about birds and his chest tightens. He quickly types out a message before sending it—he stops his pacing feeling foolish for trying to connect with someone he doesn’t even have a face to imagine.
trebleclef13: I hate rainy days—it rained so much this morning
The message is simple. It isn’t something funny or even interesting but it will give the other man the opportunity to reply if he wants. Jimin sighs as he sees the marks from his fingertip on the glass. Yoongi is going to make him clean the whole front of the store for marking up the glass he just cleaned.
His phone lights with a small ding and Jimin almost drops the phone as he looks back down to see that he has got a reply.
deathandallhisfriends7: I don’t mind them…gives me space to think
Jimin smiles, his chest light and happy—like a snowflake falling from the sky as he replies without hesitation. Maybe his fake stars are a kind of magic after all.
trebleclef13: I think so much…I feel like an old man looking back on his life.
Jimin bites his thumbnail as he waits for deathandallthisfriends7 to reply and hopes it is before Yoongi arrives back with their dinner and he is thrust back into the reality that is piling him under so many emotions he can’t breathe—DING!
deathandallhisfriends7: Are you?
trebleclef13: ???
deathandallhisfriends7: Old!
trebleclef13: I am 29! You are a brat. You better call me hyung.
deathandallhisfriends7: I don’t know Korean well…my parents never made me learn it but my grandparents tried their best.
trebleclef13: …please tell me you like kimchi…
deathandallhisfriends7: I SAID I CAN’T SPEAK IT NOT THAT I AM NOT KOREAN
Jimin snorts—a laugh echoing throughout the shop as if it is music itself and Jimin just sends back a happy face emoji before closing his phone. He stuffs it back in his pocket just as Yoongi opens the door with two bags of food that make his stomach growl. He grabs the bags from Yoongi as he heads to his office where he knows he will spend at least two hours over papers, numbers, and his laptop.
He can already see Yoongi with his yellow notepad and black ink pen that looks greasy from the food they are about to consume.
“Don’t you just look for the dumplings with the most filling and leave me the smaller ones,” Yoongi calls as Jimin is already opening the food container with his chopsticks hovering over a juicy dumpling.
“Never!” He says before munching on said dumpling—he groans at the taste of moist dumpling. Yoongi pulls the folding chair from the side before he pulls apart his own chopsticks. The steam from the food makes Jimin remember his stars just outside of the room but he shakes his head as Yoongi launches into a story about the long line at the small restaurant.
Jimin nods along as he pulls out his phone and sees that deathandallhisfriends7 replied with his own emoji of a winking face.
🎶🎵🎶
“It is not that bad,” Jimin says slowly—his eyes burning as he looks at the computer screen but there is a definite drop in sales. The worst it has ever been since opening all those years ago and truth be told his first month sales were better than this.
He shakes his head, trying to clear the rush of thoughts and emotions that will just tear him down when he needs to be strong.
Yoongi hums and it worsens the sinking feeling in him, “If we get September sales up and maybe host a listening party for some upcoming albums this year…” Jimin says, closing the laptop and all its insanity.
“It’s fine, Jimin,” Yoongi finally voices out, his hand coming down onto his shoulder before squeezing, "We will pull through.”
Jimin tasks himself to take a deep breath as he starts to clean up the empty container and Yoongi is still frowning over the sales report.
Meow.
Both men look down at Magic Man and they laugh before Jimin looks back at the clock, “We better close up and leave the worries for later,” he says as he stands—his ankle thumping like a heartbeat from sitting in one position for too long.
He watches Yoongi finish cleaning up and chatting happily to the cat—his life isn’t bad. He has his friend, he has so many moments of silence—of peace and he has Serendipity. This new store Golden won’t be his downfall.
“I’ll lock up,” he calls to the older man who only pauses for a second before nodding as he fills up Magic Man’s food bowl.
“Be ready for Open Mic Night tomorrow,” Yoongi says in farewell.
The sound of the bell chiming as Yoongi disappears down the street gives Jimin a moment to hobble towards the front of the store as his ankle finds its balance again.
He looks around one more time at his small music shop full of music. The only thing Jimin has loved unconditionally and it loves him back the same. It does. He touches the small bell above the door as he leaves. The sound relaxes him.
The night air is chilly for August, he shivers as he makes his way back home—New York is brusquely in its appearance but especially at night. He loves this city full of dreamers. It makes him feel nostalgic.
Buzz. Buzz.
He pulls out his phone as ‘eomeoni’ flashes on the screen. How did this rainy day turn out to be so awful when it started off with a fun debate on Coldplay? He sighs before answering, knowing it will be worse if he doesn’t, “Hello—”
His mother’s voice interrupts him from the start, “Jimin-ah! The restaurant just closed for the night and I thought I would give you a call…”
He laughs—his parents' small Korean restaurant in Korea Town makes him instantly smell gochujang, the red spicy Korean pepper paste, and hear the chatter of chopsticks and metal bowls. He grew up in that restaurant but now it is full of hate. It is full of Jimin running out of that place with an empty heart.
“I just got off work,” Jimin says as he crosses the street.
His mother hums in answer, never really liked the idea of Jimin owning the music store when he needs to take over the restaurant, “Your father and I are wondering when you are coming for dinner. Sometime soon, I hope. We have something important to discuss.”
Jimin tries to keep his voice level, “In a few weeks?” Jimin hates that he forms his answer as a question like he owes them anything after kicking him out but his mother agrees. Jimin can hear his father’s voice in the background just as she wishes him a good night.
The phone call is short and to the point and it isn’t anything like what family should be but what does Jimin know?
Jimin grunts into the mouth of Jack—the other dancer's hands find his waist as they collapse into the wall close to Jimin’s bedroom. Jimin’s heart is racing, loving the feel of the other’s boy lips and the warmth of his body. He is burning bright like a star.
It never feels like this with girls—Jimin knows he is gay. His parents do not. Jimin nips at the other’s lips before mouthing at his neck, listening to Jack’s soft moans of encouragement. This feels so right—heat simmers in his lower stomach as he pulls back to tell the other dancer they should go to his room.
“Jimin!”
Jimin pulls back and his father is staring straight at them. Jack jumps back, tripping over his dance bag as Jimin tries to collect himself but his hands shake, “Dad…”
“How could you? What is this?”
Jimin doesn’t look at his dad as he picks up Jack’s bag from the floor and hands it to him, “I’ll see you at dance.” The other boy doesn’t need to be told twice as he rushes down the stairs into the small Korean restaurant and out the door. The sound of the bell echoes along with Jimin’s heart. A broken thing that needs to be replaced.
“I’m gay, dad,” Jimin says in English just to rub more salt in the wound his father is about to create.
“You will never see that boy again! You won’t dance! You are a fucking disgrace!”
Jimin just swallows as his mother appears, “You son has been kissing boys! He is gone! I want him out of this house.”
His mother’s face is pale—eyes wide as his father screams. Jimin rushes into his room—grabbing a bag before throwing everything of value in it. Some cash from the tips over the last few years, his favorite hoodie, his dance bag and he grabs his CD player that luckily still has a Coldplay disc in it.
Jimin is back in the hallway just as his father slams him against the wall, “You are not my son.”
His father’s eyes reflect the same brown as his. Jimin nods as he takes the stairs two at a time. Running past childhood photos on the wall, the smell of kimchi, and the red seats in the restaurant until he burst out the door. Jimin doesn’t even pause, he runs through the streets of Korea Town. He doesn’t know where he is going, he doesn’t feel bright like a star anymore but blue like the other side of the moon.
🎶🎵🎶
Jungkook locks the door of Golden. The night is twinkling with the fake stars of the city as he moves to step back from the doors—he looks up at the sign before his eyes settle on the whole storefront. It has been two weeks since the construction started and it is really coming together.
He is a week away from opening and his heart hasn’t stopped pounding like a trapped butterfly. His leg is always bouncing, his mind is swirling with everything he needs to do—finish decorating, get his office ready and he should probably steady his mind for when his dad appears. Jungkook knows he will before opening night. He will feed off of Jungkook’s success like it is his own and Jungkook is going to let him.
He sighs, tearing his eyes from his dream as he starts off down the block. The sidewalk is aglow with the lights from other stores, the city street lights, and the phone screens of passersby on their commute home.
He pulls out his headphones, juggling them and his phone as shadows of stars appear on the ground around him—he pauses. His eyes turn wide as he looks up at the store he stopped in front of.
Serendipity.
The sign has tiny yellow stars dancing around it and Jungkook is immediately gleeful. He smiles, his eyes roaming the store like it is worth his time when he really should go home and finish up emails and inventory for his own store but he can’t look away.
He stumbles as he pushes his phone and headphones back into his bag and he looks at the two glass doors—there’s a sign with three little words that has him opening the door before he can stop himself.
Open Mic Night.
He lets out a breath as the door closes. Serendipity is dark—the spotlight on the stage grabs his attention as the microphone gleams. He hops on one foot to the other as he looks around the music store. It is completely different from his store—his Golden. This place is old-fashioned. A vibe for sure and Jungkook can tell the owner loves music at its core. It is homey and Jungkook loves it immediately but he can hear his father’s voice, this place is his competition. A music store that is just around the corner from his own and this is a wonderful opportunity—everything is always an opportunity for his father—to learn more about the place and probably will take his sales if he doesn’t get the upper hand.
Jungkook snorts, rolling his eyes at his father even though he isn’t even here. He focuses back on the place—the posters, the bean bag chairs, the records that fill the walls, and the CDs that gleam into the lowlights.
Jungkook thinks this place might live up to its name. He found it by a happy accident. He licks his lips as he spots the signup sheets for the night and his heart stutters in a way that has his feet moving to the clipboard. He just wants to sing.
He writes his name down and he bites his lip as the signup sheets ask what song he will sing and his mind stalls before it jots down one word, Yellow.
He almost wishes his texting buddy was here to hear his favorite song but while this place is called Serendipity, it isn’t magical and his friend isn’t here.
🎶🎵🎶
Fridays are huge nights for Serendipity. Open Mic Night brings out local artists, regular customers, and people looking for a more low-key place to hang out other than a club or a stuffy restaurant.
Jimin is moving the chairs and tables around the small stage in the back corner as Yoongi fixes the microphone and speaker—the older man looks in his element as he plays around with the setup. Jimin smiles as he looks over at the espresso maker where he also needs Yoongi to be because there’s no way he can make the coffee for the incoming customers.
The bell above the door rings and a few customers are chatting loudly as they find their seats. Jimin smiles as he turns off the overhead lights. The store dims like stars far away—tiny lights glowing around the shelves that hold the records, candle light flickering at each table and the spotlight that falls onto the small wooden stool on the center of the stage makes Jimin yearn.
Yoongi pats his shoulder, “Start getting orders and I’ll get working on the espresso bar so we can start sign-ups for tonight.”
Jimin laughs, “Thank you—”
“Like I would trust you with the espresso machine.”
“It is evil!”
Yoongi rolls his eyes but Jimin just sticks his tongue out as he rounds one of the empty tables to find Mr. Tanaka—one of his most regular customers. He is someone who took Jimin under his wing because they are both the same.
Disregarded by their families for being different…for loving.
Spit fills his mouth as he swallows tears, “Tanaka-san,” Jimin says as he smiles down at the older man. He is an immigrant from Japan and has lived in New York for forty years and Jimin couldn’t be more grateful to him.
“Jimin-kun,” he smiles—his black beard peppered with white is always nicely shaped, and his eyes are always holding so much life in them. It makes Jimin jealous because when he looks in the mirror there’s nothing but dimming light.
“I hope we have some good performers today,” Jimin says with a nod to the stage and the elderly man laughs, “You always do but I have a feeling tonight will be exciting.”
Jimin laughs but he is sure it will be like any other night—people singing their hearts out or performing their original songs in search of an audience.
Jimin made sure of that when he opened Serendipity, giving people a place to perform. He can never be on the stage again, or not like how he wants, so he made a place for others to at least have a taste of the freedom—of the brightness of standing in the center of a stage with your heart open to the world.
Jimin looks at the microphone gleaming in the light, the spotlight along the unperturbed metal, and he smiles, “Enjoy tonight,”
“I think I should be telling you that,” Tanaka says with a small laugh, before patting Jimin’s back. He goes back to taking orders and handing them off to Yoongi. As people sign up on the clipboard that is by the stage.
Serendipity is almost completely dark now—Jimin turned off the fairy-lights to make the stage shine brighter as the first singer takes their place. Jimin hovers near the back, looking at the customers' reactions to the singer.
Smiles, wonder and the look of awe and even sometimes jealousy flashes in their eyes and Jimin soaks it all in. As if it is he who is singing—who is pouring his heart out for the world to either hate him or love him. He sighs, his heart aching today instead of his ankle which is a surprise since the weather this autumn has been messy. Rainy days instead of sunny ones that reflect beautiful nights with puddles on the sidewalks.
Jimin makes a round to check on the guests before moving to watch from the hallway that leads to his office.
The stage is bright—the posters making a backdrop of times past with lyrics and albums most people won’t even recognize now. Jimin frowns, looking down at his black boots that have seen better days…he really needs a new pair.
The soft guitar starts before the drums that make the music sound like falling stars with each note—Jimin's head shoots up. It is Yellow by Coldplay.
There’s a young man with his hood up, and his black jeans are ripped by the knees as he sits on the small stool. His long fingers hold the microphone and Jimin’s heart blooms as the first word leaves his lips.
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
yeah, they were all yellow
Jimin blinks back tears—his voice isn’t anything like Chris from Coldplay. It is softer like summer rain. Jimin stutters on an exhale as the young man looks up and their eyes lock. The singer smiles between lyrics. His eyes are full of light, of stars and galaxies.
Look how they shine for you…
Jimin looks away as the song ends. He inhales deeply as if he can taste the lyrics that are fading in the room as everyone claps. It is hands down the best performance tonight. Hell, probably ever. Jimin quickly looks around the room. He doesn’t remember seeing him at a table earlier.
Jimin feels dizzy, his heart all in serendipity and foolishness because some man sang his favorite song but he sang it like he was holding stars in his pockets.
Jimin sees his black hood moving towards the second-hand records that are just around the corner of the small stage. Jimin doesn’t think—he moves. Retracing the man’s footsteps that matters as well as shines as his voice did.
Jimin doesn’t know if it is fate or foolishness that has him following the stranger but he can’t stop himself.
Jimin can only see his back—his broad shoulders and he pulls his hood down to reveal fluffy dark hair. Jimin tilts his head, moving forward as his hip hits one of the shelves making a few vinyls fall.
The singer jumps, turning around with those wide eyes, and Jimin’s brain short circuits as those starry eyes meet his—he gasps before leaning down to pick up the fallen vinyl. Jimin can feel his cheeks warming as he sees another hand helping. Picking up the fallen albums. Jimin bites the inside of his cheek as he stands back up, his ankle protesting.
“Did you like the song?”
Jimin quickly looks away from the old vinyl and glances at the beautiful singer. A strong jaw that is softened by his round nose and eyes—a paradox of soft smiles and boldness.
Damn.
Jimin feels spellbound—feels alive as his heart beats so loudly he feels it in his neck like a warning, “Yes—yes!” He says, mentally kicking himself for being awkward, “Yes—you sing well,” he says as he clears his throat.
The singer smiles, his cheeks turning rosy pink like dawn as he rubs the back of his head and Jimin wonders if it is a nervous habit, “Thank you…”
Jimin holds in a laugh at his brashness—so cute.
“It is the best performance tonight,” Jimin says as he looks away from the beautiful man, running his fingertips on the tops of the records, “Maybe ever since open mic nights started here.”
The singer laughs—his eyes filling with even more light as if it is possible, “You come to all of them then?”
Jimin leans on the shelf, a hand on his hip, “Well…yeah. I own the store,” he smiles as he watches a multitude of emotions flicker across his face until it ultimately settles on shock.
“You own it?”
Jimin hums, tearing his eyes from him as Jimin takes in his own store—the old music, the lyrics, and messages waiting to be heard. The polished wood, the expensive headphones and cheap bean bags next to the tiny lamps, and the CDs that gleam in their plastic packaging. Jimin tilts his head, “I should put some flowers by the door…” he mutters as he stares past the singer.
Orange roses, maybe?
The singer’s laugh breaks him from his thoughts, “You definitely own it…thinking about decorating in the middle of our conversation.”
Jimin grins, “This place is my baby.”
The singer nods, looking around with his wide starry eyes that have Jimin captivated, “You birth the place yourself?” he asks with a grin—his teeth chasing the image of a rabbit who has found a berry brush in a forest.
“Can’t you tell? Don’t we look alike?” Jimin feels his cheeks heat, he doesn’t even think as he says that back—as he flirts with a man he just met.
The dark-headed man looks Jimin up and down slowly, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks rosy and Jimin is smitten. Holy shit.
“Not to insult your store but I think you are more beautiful.”
Jimin smiles, he can barely see the man from the grin that is blooming across his face and heart, “What is your name?”
The singer looks surprised or nervous at the question and Jimin almost starts to say it doesn’t matter but in reality, Jimin is dying to know.
“Jungkook Jeon,” he says and Jimin raises his eyebrows at his American way of saying his name—he tilts his head as he replies, “Park Jimin.” It just dawns on him that they are speaking in English but he is sure that Jungkook is Korean but then again that doesn’t mean anything.
There are so many questions on the tip of his tongue, his emotions are begging to release from the cavern of his chest but Jungkook looks over his head before landing those big eyes back to his, “Looks like Open Mic Night is ending.”
Jimin swirls around and sure enough, the overhead lights are on and people are making their way to the door—Jimin missed all the other singers and performers tonight but he has a feeling he didn’t miss anything when the brightest thing he has seen is standing in front of him.
Jimin nods, twirling his head up and meeting Jungkook’s stare, “I hope I’ll see you around?”
Jungkook moves closer, their shoes touching—Jimin's old boots and a new pair of sneakers and Jimin suddenly feels fond. The singer let his fingertips slide down his arm. Jimin inhales sharply as the man smiles—Jungkook’s face is completely red as if his own actions are new to him.
Jungkook’s fingers are dancing along his wrist until they brush his own in a playful dance and Jimin is sure he can hear how fast his heart is beating like a comet with aim.
“Jimin-ah?”
They both jump back at the new voice, Jimin looks at Yoongi who is sporting a smug smile, “It is time to close the store?” He phrases it as a question as Yoongi’s sharp eyes linger on Jungkook.
Jimin nods and he sees Jungkook rubbing the back of his neck, “It was nice to meet you,” he whispers and Jimin steps back to give him room, “Likewise.”
Jimin’s eyes widen at the number of customers at the register as they all make it to the front of the store. He gives a small smile to Jungkook but the man just smiles wider, “See ya, Park Jimin.”
“Bye Jungkook Jeon,” he laughs and the singer beams as he leaves Serendipity and Jimin can’t stop himself smiling like a heartsick fool.
🎶🎵🎶
The tiny stars are burning Jungkook’s irises as he lies on the floor of Golden. He just finished mopping and he doesn’t care if his clothes are getting slightly wet. He is wearing all black anyway. The tiny lights in the ceiling were installed today and he has been waiting for the evening all day just to get the full effect of their tiny glow in the evening.
It is probably overkill but his fancy fairy-lights in the shape of stars turn his dark music store with its black walls and interior into a place that anyone would have to stop and stare—he brought the stars from the sky down to earth for his customers to make wishes on as they find music that will keep them going.
That is all Jungkook wants; for people to have access to music whenever they need it. Music heals. It is the soundtrack of your life. It brightens your good days and holds you in the dark on the days you can’t even cry out.
Jungkook tears his eyes from the shiny lights—blinking as the corners of his vision blink with white and yellow halos. The music drifting through the speakers has his fingers tapping along to the beat. It is a Coldplay song.
Sparks.
The song itself is heartbreaking—something Jungkook has never really experienced. His romantic flings or even his relationship with his parents and while the latter isn’t the best…he has never wanted for anything. He sighs, shaking his head because that doesn’t ring as true as it sounds.
The lyrics of Sparks are destructive and show a plea to keep a love going that will fall like a house made of cards. He sighs—closing his eyes letting the music carry him away for a moment. His heart is beating simply.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Jungkook blinks his eyes open, tilting his head back and seeing his parents tapping on the glass of the door staring down at him. His eyes widen at the sight of them as he scrambles off the floor to let them in.
His heart's simple beating skyrockets as his father and mom walk in with smiles and gift bags as his mom pulls him into his hug. The music fades as he hugs her back, her flowery perfume coats his lungs and he pulls back, “Mom.”
“Honey!” She smiles—teeth shining in the lights and he can’t help but smile back at her joy.
“The place looks great, Jungkook,” his father says as he walks around the store. His suit still looks freshly pressed even this late into the evening. Not a hair out of place or a smile misinterpreted.
“Thank you,” he says as he watches his father look over the case of iPods with a satisfied nod. His father glances over at him and gives him the thumbs up, “I have been talking with a few people in the music industry and they are very interested to see how your music store will perform.”
Jungkook smiles because he knows he is trying to help but he wishes that his father would say something about the store itself and not the potential of sales or what it can offer. He looks up at the fake stars above his head with a frown but his parents are now roaming around as they discuss his future.
Jungkook pulls out his phone as the time flashes twenty-past eight o’clock—he glances at his parents before sending a text.
deathandallhisfriends7: I found some stars tonight
He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply.
trebleclef13: In this city?
Jungkook just smiles—it isn’t a happy smile but one of sentiment as he goes to his friend’s contact to add the star emoji behind trebleclef13’s username.
deathandallhisfriends7: yes
🎶🎵🎶
This is completely foolish, Jimin thinks as he looks at himself in the mirror—his white shirt and black slacks that hug his thighs just right make him feel even more foolish. He shakes his head, pieces of his hair fall into his eyes that are lined with black eyeliner, and to pull all this foolishness together, his lips are covered in lip gloss. He looks good but his heart isn’t in it.
He sticks his head out of the bathroom, Yoongi is lying on the couch looking at his phone without a care in the world—as his eyes flicker across the screen and Jimin wonders if he is texting Namjoon.
“Hyung!” He calls out, feeling selfish for pulling the other man’s attention away from his own life but Jimin partly blames him for this idea.
Yoongi’s sharp eyes flicker up, “You are ready?”
Jimin frowns, moving to stand by the sofa, “This is a bad idea!” Jimin can’t stop the sigh that leaves his lips as he looks around his apartment. The warm wood is striking in the evening shine, pulling out the more orange tones. Turning the whole room into the sunset.
“We are just going to check out a new music store,” Yoongi says—his voice monotone and Jimin raises his hand but Yoongi ignores him as he continues, “So what if it is also our competition?” Yoongi shrugs like this is normal, “What if you need this night out because I can’t watch you look lovesick over a man you met weeks ago at open mic night…”
Jimin frowns, his cheeks heating at the words, “I am not lovesick…” he mumbles before turning back around to grab his wallet from his room, “This will be purely for research!”
Yoongi’s laugh echoes through the apartment, “I thought you didn’t want to go?”
“This is just to prove to you I am not lovesick!” He calls back as he slams his bedroom door—cutting off Yoongi’s laughter and his expectations.
He isn’t lovesick.
Maybe he looks at the door a little too much each time the bell above Serendipity chimes, maybe he reads over the sign-up sheet during the last few open mic nights a little too hard but never sees the man’s name. Jimin leans against the door, his head hitting with a thunk as he sees the tiny glowing lights next to him. He turns and looks down at his bed, his wallet is lying in the mess of clothes from earlier as he tried to find something to wear to Golden.
He is nervous. This is his competition and maybe with the decrease in sales at Serendipity…it makes him unsettled but how could it not? He moves past the mess of his bed to look at the setting sun. The orange light casts the world aglow and it eases something in him. He has always loved the colors orange and yellow.
You are brighter than the sun.
The words make him pause—his chest squeezes and he stumbles back from the window and his ankle screams at old memories.
He isn’t that person anymore. He isn’t…he is not a dancer. He isn’t yellow. He is all indigo.
He can hear Yoongi moving around his apartment, a car horn outside the window, and the hum of his air conditioner—it all brings him out of his hurt. He takes a deep breath as he sets his sight on his wallet. He has a store to check out, he has plans he needs to make for Serendipity and it doesn’t include his past.
He grabs his wallet and heads for the door where Yoongi is waiting, still typing on his phone lost in his own world but Jimin is determined.
🎶🎵🎶
He doesn’t go out anymore. The last time he went out it was before he broke his ankle—bars, clubs with his dance team and it seems like early twenties lead you into those places. Places to discover yourself, places to learn and find heartbreak. Jimin isn’t the exception but after the accident and losing dance…he had enough heartbreak.
Yoongi is quiet next to him as they both walk the same path they do each day but this time they are not turning the corner to Serendipity but stopping at Golden. Jimin hasn't passed the new store in a few days. Not wanting to see the finished product—the store that will showcase ‘music for the modern era’ and he feels foolish.
That feeling just doesn't leave him these days, he sighs as he looks at the darkening sky. Long gone is the yellow sun and now the world is blues and purples. The stars appear for people but not for New York. Just city lights, loud voices of youth and Jimin’s heart quickens as they stand in front of the music store.
The windows are tinted but he can see the lights peering through the cracks of the doors—bright yellow—supernova lights. The beat of the music is thumping like a pulse and he looks over at Yoongi who looks impressed. The music is already swirling around—inviting people in with its loudness but also with its freedom.
“Ready?” Jimin asks, never taking his eyes off the doors and Yoongi just snorts as he replies, “You make it sound like we are going into battle.” Jimin frowns because that is how he feels but he just shakes his head as he pushes through the door.
Golden is exactly that…golden.
Jimin lets out a sharp breath at the stars above his head—hundreds of tiny little glass lights turning the otherwise dark room into an infinite universe. He looks around and people are dancing on a small dance floor by a DJ stage. He can see Yoongi already walking to it—his fast little steps taking him to the amazing setup.
Jimin shakes his head with a smile as he pushes past the group of people listening to music through the headphones along the opposite side of the wall—leather chairs and sofa fill the center of the room while the heart of the store lines the back wall.
Cases of iPods, electronics, headphones, and CDs are wrapped around the wall along with musical instruments—Jimin just stops and stares in awe. The place is packed full of music. It is so different from Serendipity.
Golden holds music for musicians, the casual listener, for younger audiences with its electronics and the DJ setup. It holds everything New York is about in the small space—change.
Change and dreaming and passion—Jimin can tell the owner loves music. He looks back towards the dancing bodies along the DJ setup and the sheets of music that cover the wall are proof of that. He wonders if each sheet was hand picked. The place is stunning.
It is the complete opposite of his store—with lowlights, comfortable seats, and records that hold dust, heart, and a message. He smiles as he thinks of his store because while it is different…it still holds the same heart as this place….music.
It is music that has kept Jimin alive and he wonders if it is the same for the owner of Golden.
Jimin moves closer to the back of the store—the counter that has the guitars, a bass, and even a keyboard in the corner. He runs his fingertips along the white keys, fighting the urge to press one and distribute the loud beats that thump through the small space as people dance, chat, and play with the interactive merchandise.
His pinky finger almost presses down on a key that he thinks is A minor as a voice breaks through the music around him, from the music under his fingers, “Fancy seeing you here.”
Jimin’s hand drops from the keyboard as he is face to face with Jungkook—the singer who hasn’t left his head for weeks. His eyes are sparkling like the stars above them and his mouth twitches like he has so much more to say. Jimin wants to wait and see if Jungkook will say more but his heart betrays him as he whispers one thing, “Jungkook.”
The singer’s mouth forms a smile, “Jimin.”
They both let the sounds of the store dance around them—let the music between them flow until Jimin can’t take it anymore. He reaches out and brushes his hand down his arm much like how Jungkook did the night they met.
He hears Jungkook’s breath hitch at the touch, his cheeks turning rosy instead of the yellow from the lights above them and Jimin hasn't been this affected by someone in a long time.
“Do you always hang out in music stores?” Jimin asks, his fingers linger along his wrist as the questions fade out and Jungkook laughs. It is a soft thing like the soothing sound of a bass.
“Only ones that hold you,” he replies, his cheeky answer has Jimin's pulse flickering like a star or worse—a light that is about to burst. Jimin hasn't flirted in years. One night stands don’t need love, just lust. Not to say Jimin is in love—he doesn’t know Jungkook but he wants to and that is fucking scary in itself.
Jimin laughs, looking away but he can feel Jungkook’s stare and it is liberating. Jimin watches a few people dance—twirling around and laughing. He sees one couple who are totally off beat but their smiles echo the music just beautifully.
“Do you want to dance?”
The question strikes Jimin to the core—his ankle throbs like a nasty reminder and he sighs with a shake of his head. Tearing his eyes from the dancing couple as they settle back on Jungkook and his pretty eyes.
“No, but I—”
He is interrupted by someone throwing an arm around Jungkook. He feels something ugly bloom in his chest as he watches a man who looks like a model with his brown eyes, full lips, and handsome face.
“Jin, get off me—” Jungkook says, his eyes fond as he looks at the other man, whose name is apparently Jin. Jimin wants to stop the frown he feels forming on his lips but it is an uphill battle. The model-faced man is clearly a bit tipsy.
Jungkook eyes him, “Why are you drunk?”
Jin laughs and Jimin wants to cover his ears at the loudness of it—the little space between Jungkook and him is now gone. He feels the world falling back into place and it isn’t a place where Jimin can flirt with a man in peace. Jimin’s world is keeping himself in check, hanging out with Yoongi and Serendipity.
Jin claps Jungkook's shoulder, “Shouldn’t the owner of the store be out there and not standing in the corner…”
“Jin!”
Jimin looks between the two men in front of him before he looks at Jungkook. Suddenly the world makes sense again—there’s no music flowing between them but the cold reality of life.
“You own…this is yours?” Jimin whispers, he looks around Golden once more, at all the music that is pouring into the place like a heartbeat. The singer who sang his favorite song that made his heart stutter like a fool is his competitor.
“Jimin,” Jungkook says his name like a plea and Jin’s face is shocked and confused but the man seems to realize he fucked up somehow.
Jimin takes a step back and Jungkook says his name again but this time it is nervous and hurt but Jimin doesn’t think he has the right to be hurt.
“You knew—” Jimin starts, his hands that have traced Jungkook’s arm are not balling into fists, “That night…you knew you were my competition!”
Jungkook shakes his head, “It isn’t like that…I just wanted to sing…”
Jimin laughs, it is a humorless thing as he takes another step back from Jungkook as he takes one forward. It is like they are dancing but the music is wrong. Their steps don’t match.
“Sure—you just wanted to sing and not check out the only music store within blocks of yours because you wanted to sing!” Jimin hisses, trying to keep this voice down because he can’t believe it. Yoongi is right…he is, no, he was a lovesick fool for a man that he didn’t know.
But now he does know.
Jeon Jungkook is a fake.
He turns around heading for the door but he feels Jungkook beside him, “Yes!” Jimin stops to look at him in confusion but Jungkook continues, “Yes…I just wanted to sing.” The flash of panic, of hurt, and maybe something else that is burrowed into Jungkook’s eyes, and Jimin wishes he can believe him.
It is just too much of a coincidence.
He curses in Korean as he pushes past Jungkook again but this time Jungkook lets him go—Jimin stumbles from the store, leaving Yoongi behind, leaving his foolish crush behind, and leaving those starry eyes.
He shoots Yoongi a quick text as his eyes find his other friend’s name in his messages—his chat room buddy but Jimin doesn’t even know what to say to him. He doesn’t feel like talking about music.
Jimin pockets his phone and he starts off down the sidewalk with the determination to keep his shop safe. Jungkook won’t take away Serendipity without a fight. The city is buzzing around him and his heart searches for…something but Jimin crushes the feeling as he looks up at the starless sky.