YOUTH. | JK | COMPLETE

the club

CANNONBALL
DAMIEN RICE

Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
Still a little hard to say what's going on
Still a little bit of your ghost your witness
Still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed
You step a little closer each day
That I can't say what's going on
Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
And life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball

"Oh, absolutely not. No. Unacceptable." Seokjin says the second the front door to Jeongguk's apartment swings open. It's around 9 PM and way past Jeongguk's bedtime, but Jeongguk merely blinks at his boss in confusion. "Jeongguk, you're going to a club, not a funeral. The saying is, 'A little party never killed nobody'." Seokjin elaborated, but Jeongguk still had no clue what he was talking about.

"I know." He deadpans, unsure why Seokjin made such a random observation.

"Then why on Earth are you wearing that?" Seokjin asks, eyes wide. Jeongguk looks down at his body, clothed in a black button up, black dress pants and black dress shoes. This is what he used to wear to go out, the last time he had been to anything like a party, in 1907. He doesn't see a problem with it. Before he can tell Seokjin that, Seokjin barges into his apartment. "Never mind, we don't have time to discuss your poor fashion choices, just—I need your closet, your razor, and some scissors."

"Scissors, sir?" Jeongguk asks incredulously. Seokjin whips around on his heel to look at him.

"Did I stutter? Go! We're gonna be late!"

•••

Jeongguk crosses his arms over his chest self consciously as he and Seokjin get out of the cab and walk towards the club. He feels wildly exposed, and extremely uncomfortable in the outfit Seokjin chose, but he's too much of a people pleaser to tell Seokjin that. Seokjin took Jeongguk's scissors and razor and cut holes in a black tee and a pair of Jeongguk's blue jeans he forgot he even owned, jeans that he never wore because he deemed them too tight. Seokjin doesn't think they are, he just said that they're skinny jeans and they're supposed to be tight. He wears some less dressy black loafers on his feet and Seokjin had put some eyeliner on him in the back of the cab. Seokjin has also insisted on parting his hair to the side and ridding Jeongguk of his wire rimmed glasses—so now he is mildly blind, losing circulation in his legs, and shivering from the 9:30 PM Seoul breeze passing through the holes in his shirt.

Seokjin completely bypasses the line to get into the club that wraps around the entire building, and Jeongguk follows timidly, murmuring apologies to the annoyed looking people in line sending them dirty looks. "We're with Jung Hoseok." Seokjin tells the bouncer, who nods calmly.

"IDs, please."

Jeongguk's heart immediately drops to the pit of his stomach. He's no longer shivering, but incredibly hot, a sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. His ID is the one thing that does not portray him as a young adult man—his birthday is on the card, and his birthday certifies him as a Wanderer, and an extremely old one at that. Seokjin elbows him in the ribs, and Jeongguk's clumsy fingers fumble for his wallet. His heart rate is racing unevenly, and he tries to keep his hand from shaking as he retrieves his ID from his wallet and holds it out to the bouncer.

The bouncer's face is stoic, but his eyes show his emotions: shock, confusion, disgust. But then he calmly hands the ID back to Jeongguk and nods firmly. Seokjin shoots him a smile and enters the club, and Jeongguk, head still spinning from his secret nearly being outed to his only friend, goes to follow him. But all relief is replaced by double the anxiety he felt before when the neckline of his black shirt is suddenly grasped roughly and yanked upon until he's face to face with the bouncer. In that moment, Jeongguk forgets how to breathe, he forgets how to speak, he only knows how terrified he is.