𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒 ✦ jikook

t w e n t y . t h r e e

The night has fallen and casts dark silhouettes over houses and buildings. Before the pitch black darkness that seems to swallow whole everything in sight, the sky transforms itself into a beautiful, elegant mixture of violet and hot pink. Ethereal buildings and constructions from afar begin to appear more vividly as they light up with different dots of vibrant lights of all hues, street lights begin to blink up, bright with numbers flashing. Jimin is preparing for his shift in his apartment room, pink shades illuminate his chiseled face flawlessly, carving and dusting his cheekbones and jawline to perfection. He applies his contact lenses that has purple highlights around the rim of his irises, blending perfectly with the natural hues outside. He takes a last look in his mirror and combs his hair up with his hand, making it messy just the way he likes before decorating his face with a smirk. With that, he leaves his apartment with casual attire and a sports bag filled with his outfit and a few make up supplies to give a light touch before heading on stage.

Nine sharp. Jungkook arrives home feeling tingly and excited as he rushes upstairs and takes a shower, usually he would get home at ten or later but due to excitement, he just couldn't help himself so he asked Yoongi if he could go home early and the-best-chief-ever replied a quick and certain "yes" as an answer, not forgetting to wiggle his eyebrows before dismissing Jungkook. Hot water runs down his body, a messaging temptation and relieving sore from his muscles and noting himself that he really needs some exercising. Too many periods of inactivity can lead to cramps while sleeping and he seriously don't want that to happen in his slumber. He needs his beauty sleep so he can work full time the next day. After that, Jungkook throws on a black button up, black jeans which are torn on the knees. He thoroughly dries his raven hair with a fluffy cloth while scrolling through his chats, waiting for it to dry. Then, he shuffles his feet into black combat boots that remind him of Jimin the first day he went to work...

Come to think of it, Jimin really had an immeasurable effect on him, according to Taehyung.

He remembers everything about the petite, pink-haired lad: Park Jimin. Body and soul, mental and physical. Whether it's his bright smile that turns his eyes into crescents, simple yet contagious that whenever you look at it you'll feel that burning, that wildfire urge to smile with him. Whether it's his small and chubby little hands that, contrary to his expectations, knows how to work perfectly fine without flaw...

Maybe it's because the "dancer impression" has embedded onto him this much recollection about Jimin. Although while Jungkook is strolling casually down the street, still armed with a Beretta 92 pistol tugged in his leather belt, he knows definitely that it wasn't only the looks, the surface that matters, it wasn't only his smile, his bod, his hands but something more, something intricate, something abstract...

Something beautiful in the once-he-thought-prostitute Park Jimin.

"Hey Ji-moan!" 

Jimin eyes blow wide when he accidentally dot his eye-glitter onto his cheeks and while suppressing his inner demon preparing to tackle his dancer friend down and smear wet mascara all over his face, he smiles back at the blonde-haired foreign teenager that stands behind him after mumbling a few profanities.

"Yes, wacky Parrot?"

"It's Poirot, dumbass." The bold teen swirls a few strands of golden in his slender fingers, correcting him while grabbing Jimin a tissue, rubbing some oil onto Jimin's and his porcelain white skin. "Need this to looks glossy and sparkly, better take that skin of yours into advantage."

"Then it's Jimin, bird." He chuckles and receives the offered tissue, wiping off excess glitter and letting his friend rubs oil on him. He continues to look at himself in the mirror and Poirot standing beside him. Jimin was well-known by whoever's in the club. He's considered the "Chinese porcelain vase" shining in the spotlight, flawlessly dancing and sliding down the gold poles with bare, white chess and black laced knee socks with straps connected to his thong, showing off his admirable curves. However, never to be touched. He looks around the room and realizes that Poirot too, has those admirable curves, those hooded baby blue ocean eyes that kill and the sweet, old-fashioned English accent that blends in perfectly with the traditional Korean picked up while he's working in a new environment. Poirot has everything and sometimes, even more than everything. Not the "porcelain delicacy" of Jimin but that "blended and unique" kind of sexiness, almost hypnotic. 

Well, at least now Jimin knows why Poirot was the-used-to-be-favored lap dancer.

But what if Jungkook gets a lap dance from Poirot? Will he forget that mark Jimin gave him? That beautiful, purplish-red blossom that blooms exquisitely on his snow-white but life-overflown skin?

Heat boils in the pit of his stomach, flames creeping itself on the walls of his mentality and his eyebrows crease when he thinks of Jungkook caressing Poirot's cheek while he passionately gives him a lap dance. It's an annoying thought and he's furious at himself: Why throw a mental fit when he's not even someone who's worth caring for?

Yes, Officer Jeon Jungkook is one hell of a cocky little bunny, a trouble maker that always ruins his perfect little escape plans and that latter did what he always loathe: teasing his height. Although he's a fucking pain, Jimin smiles to himself that he always have that smile - cute and bears such a close resemblance to the bunnies in his slumber at warm nights, he also have those crinkles by his doe eyes - the crisp, thin touch of time that faintly trails on his facial features and how salty sweet his skin tastes when Jimin was blinded by the hands of wildfire lust and fogged by the mist of guilty pleasure...

He was the beat to his dance, the drug to his high, the bullets to his pistol and the sin to his soul.

Jeon Jungkook was the sanity to his insanity.