Playing Favorites {BTS | Namjin}

The Rich Asshole

"Stop moping," Yoongi mumbled from the stool beside his at the bar, sliding him another beer. "It was one bad review. That's going to happen."

"It wasn't just a bad review," Namjoon complained before downing half of his beer. "It was a bad review from a scouting agency."

"Well, they're idiots," Yoongi told him, matter-of-factly. "You're a great rapper, and your lyrics are awesome. That company doesn't know what it's talking about."

"They're the ones who tried to scout you," he frowned at his Hyung.

"But I turned them down."

"Because you're an idiot."

"Because I knew they'd make me do things their way, not my way. Which means you wouldn't have been able to write songs as you have been, either. Think of it as a blessing that you don't have to waste your time on them."

"That really doesn't make me feel any better." Namjoon finished his drink, ordering what he thought was his sixth beer of the night. Honestly, he hadn't really been keeping track.

Yoongi didn't say anything else, silently sipping at his own drink while he guzzled down another beer.

After about an hour, all of the binging had begun to catch up to him, and he was feeling a lot better, his mind focused more on trying to convince Yoongi to dance with him than his bad review.

"Sit down, you drunk idiot," Yoongi sighed. "You're going to knock someone out if you keep waving your arms like that."

"Dance with me, Hyung," Namjoon pleaded, pulling on his arm.

"Dance with someone else."

He wrapped his arms around the smaller man's middle, resting his chin on his shoulder. "But I want to dance with y-you." Oh shit. Were his words slurring? He couldn't be that drunk after just a few beers. Then again, he hadn't really kept track of how many he drank. Was it only a few? More?

"Jin-Oppa!" Came a loud giggle from the other side of the bar, catching Namjoon's attention. "You're so handsome. Dance with me!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm just here for a short business meeting." The voice belonged to a tall man in a ridiculously expensive-looking suit. His dark hair was combed over, his bangs laying across his forehead in a way that reminded him of a kpop singer. Everything about him screamed money. It pissed Namjoon off to no end.

He found himself eavesdropping when another man sat next to him, who he immediately recognized as the choreographer for several large scouting agencies, Jung Hoseok.

"Any luck this afternoon?" Hoseok asked the rich guy.

"I only watched a few performances, but they were all disappointing. One of the rappers was incredibly good-looking, but his skill was lacking," the rich guy said. "His name was Nam-something-or-other. My father has high standards for his company, so just looks aren't going to cut it. We need people with actual talent."

"Namjoon!" Yoongi grabbed his arm, shaking his head firmly. "It's not worth it."

He realized he had begun rounding the bar, making his way towards that rich asshole and Hoseok. So he's the one who wrote that review. And that prick isn't even a real talent scout, he's just the spoiled son of the CEO.

"You heard what he said," Namjoon snapped, attempting to shake off the other man. "He's the asshole who wrote that review, calling me 'a talent-less mockery of modern rap'! I'm going to show him how talentless I am when I knock his rich ass on the floor—"

"It's not worth it," Yoongi repeated. "Look at him. He doesn't care that you're pissed, and he probably has a security guard close enough to get to you before you can get to him."