UGH! / SOPE & VMIN.

THREE, PURPLE HARLEY.

PURPLE HARLEY.

     WIND WHIPS UP a long cheetah print patterned skirt, cinched at the waist with a clunky belt, cold polluted air making all the hairs on his legs stand up. he pouts a bit, despite it being his fault for wearing something so scant in the nippy british spring weather. he's standing in the streets of downtown london, with numb fingers and a face full of slapstick ( honestly, does no one work on mondays anymore? ).

wiping a smudge of red lipstick from where it stains his chin, kim taehyung looks both ways across the street before running through the haphazard traffic, his clunky brothel creepers thunking against the cracked, pot-holed tarmac. there's a walkman tape player hanging from his belt and a pair of headphones blasting freddie mercury's melodic voice into his ears, music keeping his brain like mush, addled with rock and roll.

this is a boy who's hardly out of place in the dodgy downtown, where transvestites and queers are more common than not, and in his skirt, makeup, fishnet tights, too-large button down and a pair of dangling earrings, he looks a beauty painted in cinnamon skin. with faded chewing gum between his teeth and cracked concrete beneath his feet, he's an urban boy through and through. an urban boy on his way to see a guy with hash and a motorbike, and this guy also happens to be his best friend.

i want to break free begins to strum in his ears and he looks at the run down blocks of flats which rest on top of bars, shops run by korean guys like taehyung but years older, butchers and grocers and antique stores. the finest of the shit end of london. taehyung loves the city, he's not gonna lie, having grown up in boring suburban buckinghamshire and then scramming to london as soon as he got his hand on a motorbike license ( stole his brother's yamaha with a backpack full of things and a suitcase full of mixtapes ). everyone where he's from says the city is shit, full of exhaust fumes and weirdos, but taehyung's a weirdo and he fits right in.

yoongi's apartment is just down the street from the indian owned store that sells nice cheap cider and delicious spicy fire kebabs, so taehyung says hi to jeeta as she's putting out the rubbish, before running down the concrete. there's boys and girls everywhere, teenagers bunking off school in favour of smoking in bus stops and avoiding truant officers, girls in school skirts cut short and boys with mohicans made stiff with sugar water and dyed like the rainbow. a gaggle of nineteen year old white boys are in the stairwell of yoongi's building, so taehyung dodges past them quickly, hoping to be mistaken for a girl so they won't pick on him ( a plus-side of being a cross dresser ), and the he darts up the stairs.

"curse you for living on the top floor, min yoongi," he murmurs to himself once he gets onto the second flight of stairs, taking off his headphones. his gravelly accent doesn't really fit the soft, feminine look he channels, but taehyung only wears women's clothes cause he likes them, not cause he wants to be one.

yoongi opens the door to his flat dressed in nothing but boxers and a large t-shirt, his long black hair spilling messily over his shoulders. "alright?" he nods at taehyung, simply letting the boy in. "make yourself at home, 'm just makin' a brew."

yoongi's flat is pretty nice, the walls in the living room painted a weird beetroot shade, with a large poster advertising the shining taking up a whole wall ( taehyung helped yoongi steal it from the pictures down the road ). the tv is playing a sports channel because yoongi actually likes football, and there's a stack of vhs tapes on top of it that taehyung suspects are probably porn. he'll pocket one when yoongi isn't looking; he's tired of rewatching the same four in his own black painted bedroom. he sits himself on yoongi's unmade sofabed, hearing the older boy rattle around with a football commentator as a backing track.

"do you wanna biscuit?!"

taehyung's hand flinches away from grabbing a copy of three men and one bed when yoongi's strong manchester accent yells for him, his own posh-boy-twat accent answering, "go on then," before grabbing the tape and shoving it into his backpack before yoongi sees.