Love Again

Chapter 6 : Roommates

Namjoon's P.O.V

I stared at the man who left, his clothing didn't help me get my eyes off him. Broad, he may look skinny but those shoulders are no joke. My attention lingered on him until his silhouette disappeared behind the glass door.

Ah, shit, I didn't get his name.

"He's Jin, if you're wondering," the bartender came to me as he cleans the shot cup and glass left on the counter.

Jin...I repeated his name in my mind.

Without hesitation, I blurted, "He's beautiful."

I turned towards the bartender and felt the tension around him. His face was tense.

"Too many people said that about him," he said bluntly.

I frowned, not knowing what he meant but let it off as it's not my position to push.

I fumbled in my pocket and took out a piece of chalk, playing with it as I spoke to the bartender, hoping he will response.

"So, erm, what he said is true, right?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow and stared at me, placing the shot cup back beneath the table shelf.

"Which sentence?"

"The 'ask the manager, he might have a place for you to crash' part," I admit, I am desperate for a place to stay as there's no way I am staying out on the streets tonight, not with those cops on the run.

The bartender took his time examining me, his big eyes were somewhat scary and intimidating, cute to see but deadly to stare at, that's what I concluded.

I continued fumbling with my chalk between my fingers, it's been my date check ever since I was stuck in that bloody prison. 

"I'll get the manager," the bartender left the counter and disappear behind the "no entry" door.

I guess that means I have a chance to get a place to crash.

I glanced around the bar.

Huh, one of them was sitting at the far end, drinking coffee. Hot coffee at night.

"Sir, you asked for me?"

I looked back at the counter and found a man standing beside the bartender, his attire seem much more formal compared to the latter. 

"Drop the 'sir', I'm here to ask if I can, perhaps, rent a room around here?" I asked.

The man frowned a little, his white-dyed hair glistered under the lights. His eyes were slightly hidden under his long fringe. A few minutes passed silently as I await his answer.

He nodded. "No problem, though how much are you gonna pay for it?"

I dug into my pocket, taking out that piece of cheque.

He raised an eyebrow. "A night?"

"...may I be hired to pay for the rent for as long as I am here?"

The manager, and perhaps the owner of the shop looked at me. He nodded, smirking for some reasons.

"Sure, but your little jibber jabbars aren't gonna attack my shop, are they?"

Flinching, I looked away guiltily. I was too obvious, was I?

"Don't worry, you are able to use the room, but not to get myself arrested, I ain't helping you hide your shit, so you'll be working with Kookie here," he nudged the bartender's arm slightly, still maintaining his playful smirk.

The bartender, or I should say Kookie, widen his eyes at the man.

"I just hope you won't mind if you have a roommate," the man said.

I nodded, it's good enough to have a place to stay.

"I'm Suga."

"Namjoon."

He raised an eyebrow, "Your parents gave you a very nice name."

I scoffed, sure, my name is rather special but what's the bloody use of your name if it's stained after years of jail and be abandoned by your parents.

"Perhaps it evens has a history on it's own," I shrugged and tailed behind Kookie as he lead me into the shop. It was surprisingly big but when I enter into a small apartment room hidden behind a wall, I heard soft muffled noise.

"Tsk, that bastard is at it again..." Kookie walking in front clicked his tougue.

"So wait, there's 3 people living here?" I asked.

"No, it was just me and that bastard before, but it will be 3 if you're now counted in," Kookie said as he place his shoes aside before leading me in.

So the manager doesn't live here...

I am not sure if I felt relieved or concerned. Let's just note it as conflicted.

As I left my shoes by the side, I stepped into the room. This was when it became weird.

The muffled sounds became clearer and soon I can differentiate that the voice I heard were actually rather blissful, if you're a kinky one.

"If you're wondering who's inside, he's V, aka Vincent Van Gogh," Kookie said as he went into the kitchen.

I frowned, "Isn't he dead though?"

A light chuckle came from him as he came back, "He likes it a little ancient," he handed a glass of, well, clear water I guess, to me.

"Huh..." this is a kinky one...worse than me?

I gulped down the drink, too fast that I choked on the content. My throat was burning and I instantly regretted drinking that shit.

"...you gave me vodka," I turned to Kookie, my eyes dead staring at the bartender.

He chuckled, his voice airy and light, like a melody. His doe eyes turned into tiny crescents as his chest heave up and down from laughing.

"Not the time for Whiskey, but Vodka is always here to help."
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