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Not a hint of the same curiosity from last night was visible in Taehyung's stare as Jimin crossed to the sleek black car waiting in the driveway with its door held open by a suited man. The ravenette could feel its judgement, but he held his head high and took his seat in the back of the vehicle, barely a metre across from Sunwoo. He knew he would have to get used to this treatment and he had learned to expect nothing more than open disrespect over the years.

The drive was filled with the same uncomfortable silence as the one that brought him here, however, this one was frequently punctuated by gross looks from the elder that had him shifting around on the warm leather. The longer he sat there, the more he wanted the seat to swallow him up. He wanted to vanish, disappear completely from this place altogether. As he had learned before, this was no fairytale; he couldn't just snap his fingers and be transported wherever he pleased. No, this was far from a fairytale and the man next to him made sure to remind him of that.

As they neared the club, Sunwoo shifted his focus to the bag perched by his side. It was no mystery to the younger that the folded paper held his satin two-piece. When the elder had come from him only an hour earlier, he'd been disgruntled, bordering outraged, to find the outfit discarded in a pile on the floor. He hadn't reprimanded Jimin, like the latter had been expecting, but had simply fixed him with a cold look and picked them up. Then he had proceeded, much to Jimin's confusion, to discard them in the bin on his way out of the room. Only after watching the elder procure another identical shirt with matching shorts from the aforementioned bag, did he fully understand the lengths this man was willing to go to get his way.

"I expect you to comply with everything that is asked of you tonight," he reiterated, stepping out of the car and walking round to meet the younger, "Is that understood?"

Jimin nodded, although it appeared this wasn't enough confirmation, given the stern look he received, so he responded in a low tone.

"Yes," the grit was noticeable, and he winced when a hand came into contact with his lower back.

He hadn't hit him, the pressure was simply there to ensure the ravenette knew exactly who was in charge here. A bodyguard, who was introduced as Jeongguk, lead the way into the building through one of the side doors. The dancer was shown to a private changing room, where he, along with the bag, was deposited and told to wait until further instruction. He wondered, without amusement, if there was anything else the old man could have done to make him feel more like an object that was purely for others to use.

Carting him around, ordering him to stay put, forbidding him to put even a toe out of line; all of it made him realise that, in this place, he was no longer a human with feelings deemed to have any value. He didn't know why this surprised him so much, most people viewed him that way and he was used to being treated accordingly.

The man, Jeongguk, was standing outside the room with his back to the door and it took several minutes of contemplation for the dancer to decide he wasn't happy staying shut in. He pried open the door and came face-to-face, well more like face-to-shoulder, with the bodyguard. This was where being short was definitely not an advantage. The anticipated punishment didn't come. Further confusion filled Jimin's mind when he looked up and made eye contact with the elder, for his doe eyes were laced with pity, genuine pity.

A second less welcome figure appeared behind him and it turned out to be the one man he was hoping to avoid. Dressed in a new freshly pressed suit with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, he placed a hand under the younger's chin. Without care, he lifted it up and, after a firm pinch, forced him to make eye contact.

"Where do you think you're going, Angel?" Sunwoo drawled, watching with satisfaction as the smaller backed slowly into the room.

Taking his time, he followed Jimin inside, ordering Jeongguk to enter as well. Said man complied, although he looked like he would rather have waited outside, and a solemn shift in his features told the ravenette he didn't want to impose on his personal space. So, that brought his tally of people here who treated him with decency to the grand total of one. What started as a smile soon turned into a grimace when he saw the eldest reach into the bag he had discarded on the chair and extract his clothes. With the utmost care, he placed them on the dresser and turned to the dancer.

Don't Call Me Angel || VMINWhere stories live. Discover now