PRISONERS [Taekook]

다섯

Park Jimin is standing alone in his office, sipping at a cup of bitter coffee. He would've preferred having a white mocha, or really anything but this coffee, but he doesn't really have a choice. He needs to wake up, stay focused and work harder, even after the many sleepless nights he's spent thinking over some of the prisoners' confessions, having nightmares about what happened to some of them... about what some of them did.

A few days ago, when he saw the small Donghyuk weakly walking down the hallway, eyes red and puffy from crying, his small body bruised from head to toe... he felt so useless. Even with the reassuring words, the comforting advice, the protective hug he gave him, it didn't stop the insomnia from keeping Jimin's eyes open at night, and he just knows it didn't make the boy any less hurt.

Jimin sighs, leaning over the window to see a few prisoners jogging in the yard. He thinks about what Taehyung said, and the way he just casually stood up and left the room afterwards, smile still playing at his lips. He doesn't know whether or not he's serious, he really doubts that he is, but his job doesn't give him any place for doubt. The second those words leave someone's lips, he is legally obliged to speak to the concerned person about it.

Three little knocks can be heard on his office door, and he knows exactly who it is but it's strange, he never knocks.

"Come in!" He says and takes a sip of his coffee.

Jimin then faces away from his window to look at the familiar figure shutting the door as he steps into the office. The mint-haired man then leans on the closed door, arms crossed on his chest. His multiple ear piercings shine under the sun rays filtered by the windows.

"You look stressed." He voices out, noting the way Jimin's brows are slightly furrowed and his cup shakes a little in his hand.

"I'm fine, Min." Jimin sighs and finishes his coffee before walking to his desk. "Sit down."

"Still won't just call me Yoongi?" He asks, taking place at his desk.

"You call me Jiminie when I clearly tell you not to. Plus, the walls have ears, and as far as I know you've been going by Agust D before I even started working here." Jimin retorts playfully.

"But you're also the only one who knows my name."

Jimin looks down, a slight smile creeping on his face before he represses it.

"Touché." He admits. "So you wanted to rant?"

"Yeah. So you know how I go clean up that really nice piano in the storage every week?" Yoongi asks, propping himself on his elbows, chin on his knuckles. "And then play a little if there's no one around?"

"You still owe me a song by the way. I've been waiting to hear you play for a year." Jimin teases, suppressing another laugh when Yoongi looks a little guilty.

"Ah-- sorry..." Yoongi awkwardly scratches the back of his head and clears his throat. "Anyways, today I walked into the storage, and guess what I fucking found?"

Jimin only arches an eyebrow, not bothering to try and guess because he knows Yoongi's just pausing for drama.

"Two guys fucking. on. the. damn. piano." Yoongi grits out, punctuating his last words by slamming his hand on the desk. "And the pieces of shit then just left! I had to spend thirty minutes cleaning up their gross body fluids, and I didn't even have the time to play on the piano after that 'cause yard time ended."

This time, Jimin can't help it.
He bursts out laughing, his pretty eyes turn into little crescents and his hand darts up to cover his mouth as he laughs profusely. Yoongi just watches him, smiling softly as he drinks in the melodious laughter coming out of his mouth. He stares at the way he holds his stomach, the way his shoulders shake and his hair falls on his eyes messily. He tries to catch a glimpse of his pretty smile despite the hand covering it. Jimin slowly regains his composure, taking in sharp breaths to try and pace himself.