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The excitement that coursed through Yoongi's veins as he heard those bus doors kushh to a close was one that he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't that kind of excitement that kept you up all night waiting for Santa to slide down the chimney or when you heard that you'd be getting to see Cinderella's castle right up in person. It was something much stronger, so much stronger. It hadn't wavered, not once, since the last time he had signed that enter and exit sheet. It remained high and strong, cursing him to a million butterflies in his stomach who never got tired. All because of Jungkook, the boy who could read his mind just like that. He couldn't wait to see him again. To learn more about him. To become his friend. They'll be friends. Yoongi knew that for sure.
Yoongi's phone buzzed lightly in his pocket as he entered the hospital. Pulled out his phone as he pushed open the door and checked where the notification had come from. Nothing important, just a text informing him that he could be getting a cheaper price for his phone service if he turned in his old phone for the brand new iPhone. Nada. Yoongi turned his phone off, looked up, and promptly froze in his tracks.
Kim Namjoon. At the reception desk. Signing the sheet.
What. The. Hell?
Kim Namjoon aka, the popular rich kid in his university, aka, your average cliche mean kid. He wasn't exactly the nicest guy, but he played it off like he was really well. I mean, all of the teachers and students who hadn't witnessed his wrath sure believed he was. He got all his money from his Dad and Yoongi doubted that the twenty-four year old had worked a day in his life.
His Dad ran Red Sun Dyes, a medium sized company based in the dead center of Seoul. Most stockbrokers knew it as more on the smaller end, but to people like Yoongi who were not directly involved with a company like that, they knew it as the multimillion dollar company who employed hundreds of people every year.
Namjoon got a huge check every six months, though Yoongi had heard that he sometimes got his Dad to send them more often than that, and was really stuck up because of it. On a much more relevant note, he hated mutants. As in, hated them. He had to hate them far more than the average anti did. No one knew why, but he did, and he was here. In the mutant veteran's hospital. Signing the entrance sheet.
