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Assistant: Title: InvisibleColors
        Author: orphan_account orphan_account 
        Chapter: 1/19 
        Summary: Yoongi’s trying to come to terms with his crush. Jimin’s trying to come to terms with his sexuality. The underground club InvisibleColors promises an outlet for both. Two handsome strangers meet in the anonymous setting of the bright and loud club to find a release in each other somewhere the public eye will never find them –– only for the two handsome strangers to end up not being strangers at all.
        Contents: Chapter 1: Black Masks and Colored Dust
    

    


  

  
  
    
    Jimin couldn’t keep the waver from his own breathing. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, that he’d actually considered it enough that he was getting ready to do what could easily equate to one of the –– if not the –– most reckless decision of his natural born existence. The possibility had lingered in the back of his mind for months now, and it was time.He had to remind himself that it was inevitable at this point.Inevitable and he shouldn’t be nervous because he couldn’t be more careful if he tried.Still, as Jimin applied a loose veil of makeup over his face, styling up his hair and checking for the hundredth time that the simple outfit he’d literally just purchased an hour ago of a white t-shirt and tight black pant looked good, Jimin couldn’t help but consider maybe walking out of the bathroom and heading to Namjoon’s room rather than the front door of their apartment. Go to Namjoon and just come clean about all of it, every last piece of every single thing that had served to torment him for years. Namjoon would know what to do.And, more importantly, Namjoon would probably talk him out of this.He’d probably crack some of his ‘high and mighty wisdom’ and say the things Jimin already knew, like it was his first time and that should be special. Or that this was still risky and he could get caught. Or that, hooking up with stranger wasn’t safe. You know those typical pills of wisdom that Jimin was choosing to ignore.But the prospect of going to Namjoon’s room only to announce that which he’d kept so closely hidden only made the already present anxiety spike. And, no. He wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t do that.Because Namjoon was accepting, yeah. But it was easy to look at a group of their fans and say that they were okay with that lifestyle. It would be a lot harder to live with someone who was on that path to discovery. It would be so much worse to have your career dependent on it never coming out. Because –– god –– if Jimin messed up, he could hurt all of BTS, couldn’t he? He could destroy everything.He gripped the sink to calm his breathing, gripped it until the edges dug painfully into his palms and he felt like he might just start crying.Only Taehyung knew. And Jimin had to keep it that way. Had to make sure none of the other members found out until he was one thousand percent certain. And he couldn’t reach that level of clarity without testing it out, right?That’s why he was doing this.To be sure.And because it had been so very long since he’d had a release, and sue him, he wanted to c@m at the hands of another human and not himself for once.Jimin clapped the foundation container closed, taking one more deep breath before pushing the simple black jacket over his arms. He had gotten his clothes from a cheap retail store, really trying to find something as inconspicuous as possible, something even their most hardcore fans wouldn’t be able to recognize from previous outings. He zipped it up to his neck and put up the hood, carefully placing the facemark over his mouth and nose and snatching the sunglasses.It was well past midnight, and wearing sunglasses was probably a hundred times more suspicious than just not. But Jimin couldn’t risk anyone recognizing him. Not now. He tiptoed from the bathroom, flipping off the light as he glanced down the hallways at his bandmates bedrooms. His eyes landed on them middle one, the one currently housing one Kim Seokjin and one Min Yoongi.What would Yoongi-hyung think if he knew?Jimin sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and turned away, walking to the front door and slipping out. He left out the back, walked aimlessly through the streets until he was certain no one was following, then headed off to the club, the hidden fruit of Seoul: InvisibleColors.What would they think if they knew? Jimin wondered.What would they think if they knew he was hiding there of all places?What would they think if they knew Jimin was gay? Yoongi felt like a garbage human being. He entered the doors of InvisibleColors and felt his own disgust with everything he was doing pulse through his limbs like a virus in his blood. But it didn’t stop him from turning to the area located just beside the door where black lighting concealed everyone’s identity, (while making Yoongi’s white hair glow against the black hood of his hoody. He’d been here enough times by now, he knew the routine. He traded his jacket over the counter for a number (one that glowed neon orange) into his pocket. He also picked up one of the masks from the shelving area, his a simple black one with a pointed nose this time, and pulled it over his face. The black plastic fell down past his cheeks, covering more skin than most of the others. He grunted in his own satisfaction and finally removed the cloth face mask from over his lips.Running his hand through his hair he pushed from the front room into the rest of the club.He learned after his first visit that the absolute best thing to do upon first walking in was to hold your g@dd@mn breath. The black lighting continued into this part of the club, though more sources of light from the walls to the seating (all shining various hues of neon) provided more illumination than was present in the first room.And then there was the color dust.It got thrown around at the entrance, both by the fans that would spray it out every so often, and by the people dancing by the entrance, grabbing handfuls from the tubs lining the wall to throw on themselves and at each other.Another thing Yoongi learned during his first visit –– don’t wear clothes you like or ever want to wear again.The dust, colored neon in every shade imaginable, quickly over took his clothes, his hair, his exposed skin. And Yoongi, despite hating the way it felt, let it.Because that was the point of this club.To become invisible in the mass of people. In the color and the lights with the masks every one wore.You came to InvisibleColor to disappear, to get what you wanted without any consequences.Yoongi knew he wasn’t the only idol frequenting the place, didn’t let him consider who else from all of the award shoes and meetings might be in the very crowd he was moving through just then, all looking for a release, maybe a quick f@ck, maybe just a safe place to get trashed.A girl grabbed Yoongi’s arm, tugging to pull him into the spot where she was dancing. Yoongi just shook his head, holding up a hand over the loud thrum of the music. She let go with a shrug, continuing to grind in the crowd, her black mask designed to look like a bird’s face.She was pretty, yeah.But there was only one reason Yoongi would intentionally wonder into such a loud and obnoxious venue and that was to get something he literally couldn’t get anywhere else.And that was the chance to swing the way he naturally did –– and that was not in the direction of females.Yoongi pressed back to the back wall, letting his pulse thrum to a calm beat as he took in the many different bodies around him, tried not to stare too intently at the two girl basically devouring each other on the bar stood just beside him.Where else in Korea could you get away with that behavior?Yoongi breathed in the scent of sweat and dust that perpetrated the air like a veil falling over the garage-like interior, breathed in the smell of hundred of people just as desperate and lonely as him, feeling the cold concrete of the wall on his back.
  We’re all sinners down here, aren’t we?
It shouldn’t have been comforting, shouldn’t have eased away the guilt tearing away at his insides that Yoongi was here instead of at home in his room with Seokjin snoring beside him, at home with his bandmates –– with his family –– enjoying their exceptionally rare night when the next morning they could just sleep in.But instead he was here, trying to beat down the tension that had been suffocating him the past few days.And it was entirely Jimin’s fault.Yoongi smiled softly at the thought, because Jimin had done nothing wrong –– when had that kid ever done anything wrong in Yoongi’s eyes? –– but Jimin had been Jimin and somehow that was enough to cause this entire predicament.You see, they were preparing for an award show in a couple weeks, an award show where they were taking on a ten minute segment of just them, up there, dancing to their old and new songs, and that meant dance practice. Lots and lots of dance practice.And Jimin, well, Jimin had been really into it lately. His focused gaze and fluid movements and the intense way he’d roll up and grind down and Yoongi was a mess of knotted up feelings and all of the regret.Because Jimin was gorgeous on a normal day, but when he was dancing like that, Yoongi couldn’t breathe.And it had been days of that, days of Jimin slicked in sweat, intense as always, moving to a beat in a way Yoongi didn’t think he could manage if he spent the rest of his life dedicated to it. And earlier that same day when Jimin had held Yoongi’s wrists to help him get the timing on a move right, the twist in his chest had just become too much.He needed to be here, he tried to reason with himself.Because Jimin was eight thousand percent off limits. And Yoongi could feel himself getting more pent up, more reckless –– and that could not happen.So he was here, at this stupid club that actually held a soft spot in Yoongi’s awareness of the world. This stupid club to find someone who looked enough like Jimin that for one glorious hour he could just pretend, could just get it all out and go back home and be the good Hyung he was struggling to badly to be lately.And that whole concept made Yoongi feel like absolute sh@t.What would Jimin think if he knew Yoongi got off to him? If Yoongi was here now? Pretending some random guy was him?God, he’d probably hate Yoongi forever.Yoongi almost hated Yoongi.He’d tried to make excuses at the beginning. Tried to rationalize to ease his own conscious. But, in the end, that had only left him feeling a million times worse. So, he was owning up to it. He was a sh@t person and an ever sh@ttier Hyung, but he was doing this so that he could be less sh@t of a person and less sh@t of a Hyung so that he and Jimin could still have a relationship outside of his pathetic pining and wanting and despising the world for being so unfair.He’d rather rot in this club then ever do anything to compromise his and Jimin’s relationship. Which was, in itself, most of the reason why Yoongi would never act on his pathetic, suffocating, ridiculous crush on the younger boy. The rest of the reason is he didn’t feel like single-handedly ruining all seven of their careers. Life was so f@ck@ng unfair.But at least he had this club and a simple way to release it all at once.The masks, the colors, the dim lighting –– it made it all a lot easier to pretend, pretend whoever he ended up with was the one he actually wanted to be with. And his first few times he’d come here, he would even pretend that he wasn’t pretending his hookups weren’t his bandmate. But the denial got hard to keep up with and now he’s here, embracing all of his shiftiness for what it was and looking for someone to fill in the missing piece of his imagination.Yoongi never really expected to find such a careful match.The boy’s white t-shirt was positively stained with a whole array of vibrant colors, he looked almost breathless as he took in the scenes around him. Someone had dumped what looked like an entire bucket of yellow dust over his head, making every strand on the boy’s head look the color of a banana as he fidgeted with the black mask on his face, simple like Yoongis, only it had more a rounded shape to the edges.Yoongi straightened as he watched the boy fiddle with his fingers, glancing around uncertainly.He looked shockingly like Jimin. Especially his lips.That was usually the detail that threw Yoongi off with others. Even if they were short enough, thick enough (good god) and made the right pitch of sounds, the lips would always be just different enough to be a constant reminder that his fantasy was simply a fantasy (and, of course, that he was still a shit human being). Yoongi was moving forward, eager to reach the boy before someone else did. With an ass like that, it was probably dumb luck that someone else hadn’t already made a move.The thrum of the beat was loud, abusively so; so when Yoongi’s fingers brushed the young boy’s shoulder, his mouth falling open as he jolted, Yoongi couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the cry that had been lost in the sound.“Sorry,” Yoongi raised his voice, leaning in as close as he could without crossing any boundaries. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”The kid was blinking up at him, lips parted in a bit of shock as he took him in. Yoongi hoped that was a good sign.After a long pause, the boy snapped out of whatever thoughts were holding him in such shock, shaking his head as he turned to Yoongi. “It’s okay. Sorry, I’m just jumpy.”“First time here?” Yoongi called again, hating how loud he had to raise his voice to be heard.The boy nodded, chancing another glance around.In the boy’s thin shirt, Yoongi could see how fast his chest was rising and falling.Yoongi was planning on playing it smooth. He leaned his arm to the wall, making himself a bit taller over the boy than he actually was as he phrased, “What are you looking for around here?” While still keeping a respectable distance. Yoongi wasn’t going to assume.But as the words were leaving his mouth, the boy asked his own question, “Are you gay?”Yoongi halted in his own shock at the forwardness, blinking down at the boy who stared up at him in turn.Yoongi straightened from the wall, coughing into his hand as he nodded, “Uh, yeah. You?” He shoved his hands into his pockets.The boy nodded, movements jerky. And, god, the kid must be so nervous. “Think so.”Yoongi didn’t so much hear the words as he saw them be formed, he narrowed his gaze at the boy. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. The kid seemed anxious as hell and Yoongi wasn’t sure he was equipped to deal with that.“Do you wanna dance?” The boy asked then, hands still twisting together.“I don’t really dance,” Yoongi answered.“Oh,” the boy’s shoulders slouched inward, he stared down, still twisting his hands together.“But,” Yoongi carefully wrapped his fingers around the boy’s wrist, pulling to make him stop fiddling with his fingers.The boy looked up at him.“I know something else we could do, something more fun.”“Yeah?” The nervousness seemed to release in an actual sigh of relief, the boy smiling at him.Okay, maybe he could do this. “Wanna make out?”The boy bobbed his head in a nod.Cute, Yoongi thought as he moved to stand facing the bay, gently pushing him back until the boy’s spine hit the concrete of the wall. The boy sucked in a breath, chest moving up and down rapidly. And Yoongi would be inclined to maybe pull away, let the boy catch his breath, calm down maybe, but hands were wrapping around his neck, pulling him close, so impossibly close and their lips were meeting before Yoongi could really think twice about it.The boy kissed unsure, a gentle peck more than anything else, but he held it, pressed it against Yoongi’s lips and Yoongi almost laughed at thee inexperience, but in an endeared way. He let his grip slip to the boys hips, let his thumb brush under the fabric of the ruined white shirt and took the lead, pressing back, lips pulling against the boys top lip, sinking to the bottom, sucking in again. He broke the kiss only to press back, tongue slipping to part the boys lips.He swallowed the gasp the boy let out as the hands tightened around his neck, tightened and pushed their chests flush together.Yoongi was leading the kiss, but the boy was letting him.So when the boy gave a small grind, pressing their crotches together, Yoongi let him lead that part. The boy’s lips attached to his neck as Yoongi glanced up to catch his breath. This was good –– better than he could’ve hoped for. When the boy moved back up to attach their lips, Yoongi released his hips, crowding the boy to the wall with his own body, feeling every inch of his warmth through their clothes; pressed him in and moved to reconnect their mouth in an open mouthed kiss, swallowing the gasp Yoongi felt more than heard as he basked in whatever sound the boy made that seemed to vibrate against where his lips held the others.When their teeth clanked as mouths met again, Yoongi cupped the boys face with one hand, holding to his side with the other to ground himself, because the young boy was gyrating his hips against Yoongi’s crotch in a way that should’ve been positively illegal.Yoongi vaguely considered whether or not he should ask whether the boy topped or bottomed, only to realize he could not care less and would literally take either at this point. So instead, his pants painfully tight, Yoongi pulled back, taking in the quiver in the boys legs, the swollen pink of his lips, and the breathless stutter of his chest to lean in close to his ear and propose, “Should we get a room?”'
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