SPY-ISH → bts fanfiction

chapter twenty-three

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P.J.M

IF THERE'S one thing I probably would've never guessed about Min Yoongi, it would be that he's a complete and total lightweight.

But in my defense, he never once mentioned how badly he took his alcohol, or how easily he cheeks flushed and his speech slurred after only one or two drinks.

"Are you hot? It's very warm. I feel warm," he mumbles at one point, and I turn to him with confusion.

What is he talking about? Warm? The street bar we've found ourselves in is cold and drafty despite the amount of people who've shoved themselves inside. I glance at the single empty glass beside the half full beer he's working on now. And I hold back a giggle.

"Yoongi, are you feeling alright? Do you want to head back?" I ask, watching him carefully.

A heavy frown appears on his small face, and he sends me a non-threatening glare.

"No way. I hate that stupid warehouse," he snaps at me.

I blink in surprise. Where had that come from? I mean, I hate it too, but Yoongi is so aggressive all of the sudden. Yoongi sees my surprise, and he suddenly plasters a strange smile on his pink face.

"Calm down, Jimin. Let's just sit for a while, hm?" His voice is soft all of the sudden, soothing, like a mother's.

It's then I burst into laughter. Out of everyone in the world, I would have thought Yoongi the last person to get drunk so easily.

"Min Yoongi, you really are drunk!" I exclaim, taking a gulp of my own beer. "I can't believe it. You act so tough all the time, but you can't even take your alcohol!"

"Excuse me?" He asks loudly in reply, perhaps the loudest I've ever heard him. "Me? Drunk?!"

He sneezes all of the sudden, and I jerk back, trying to veer away from the spit flying my way.

"Maybe," he murmurs, wiping his nose. "Maybe."

"My gosh, you're a mess. And you've only had a drink and a half!" I laugh, feeling victorious somehow.

Like I've finally beat him at something. Even if it is just at holding my liquor.

When we leave the tent bar, the city seems to have awoken, despite the night having only grown deeper. Now is the time when business men are coming and going to their obligatory drinking parties with bosses and coworkers. When the youth are released from night school and run around the town in a blaze of momentary freedom until morning. When people like Yoongi and I roam the streets. Trying to find an unknown something before the sun comes up.

And I ignore the fact that it's getting much too late to be away from the team. Instead I grab Yoongi by his sleeve and pull him towards a food vendor. I hope filling him up with some food will sober him up a bit. But at the same time, I hope it doesn't. I want to be the sane one for a little while. Once I have him chewing on pork meat and not complaining about me stretching his shirt sleeve, I feel the same excitement the others wilding about the city feel.

"You've never really been out drinking before, have you, Yoongi?" I ask as we walk down the bright sidewalk.

"I hate alcohol, Jiminie," he sings almost.

I laugh a little at the nickname his drunk self has given me. He's been referring to me like that for almost an hour now.

"Why'd you agree to drink it with me then?"

"Because I've never had it before."

I tilt my head, wondering at his words for a bit. Yoongi is smart. He's pretty much a genius. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you can't hate something you've never had before. But when I glance to Yoongi to point this out, he's stopped walking. I pause and jog backwards, back to where he's standing. He's looking down the street ahead of us. At a group of young kids, all smoking and laughing. All sharing that look of freedom.