Chapter Text
“I can’t do this.”
Jeongguk thumps his head against the table, groaning when his forehead makes contact with the grainy wood. It hurts, but not nearly as bad as his pride. When he envisioned his life after university, it wasn’t this.
It sure as hell wasn’t working the night shift at the front desk of the gym he thought would just be a past-time in between his studies. Then again, he never pictured himself burned out and aimless at twenty-four, either. He didn’t think it was possible, the kind of dread that settles in his bones whenever he thinks about his future.
There’s care in Yoongi’s voice, the kind he knows others wouldn’t show him when he’s been whining as much as he has lately.
“Just eat your dinner. Then you can go to bed.”
“And then what?” Jeongguk groans dramatically, mumbling into the table top. “Wake up tomorrow and start over?”
Yoongi chuckles. “That would be life, my darling brother.”
Jeongguk’s chest physically hurts. It aches with the knowledge that this is how he’s spending his Thursday night. It’s been a hard pill to swallow, seeing his friends and his peers advance in their careers at speeds he always envisioned for himself. No one warned him that he’d feel like this once he was done. No, they all praised him when he continued his education, not ever mentioning the expectations that would follow.
“I can’t do this any longer,” he says again, well aware it doesn’t actually change anything about his current predicament. A sad laugh tumbles in his throat when he thinks about where to go from here. “I need to marry someone rich. I need to be a trophy husband.”
This time, Yoongi lets out a full-blown laugh.
Jeongguk is stuck in a rut. He knows it. Yoongi knows it. Fuck, everyone knows it. This isn’t who he is. He doesn’t complain and he doesn’t give up so easily, but lately, it’s been hard to not let the defeat overtake him. The monotony of his days served as a constant reminder that he needs to get his life together. He’s reminded every morning when he wakes up, and if that isn’t enough, his mother loves to remind him every chance that she gets. It’s not malicious, but it’s a constant barrage nevertheless—a “how is the job search going, honey?” when in reality, he spends most of his time scrolling TikTok.
It’s not the best use of his time, his subconscious reminding him any time he comes home from work and glances at the laptop that hosts his half-finished internship and job applications. The other day, it made him feel so guilty that he shoved it into his desk drawer. Out of sight, out of mind, kind of thing. As it turns out, it didn’t stop him from feeling the pressures of the world.
Jeongguk knows he will find his way back. He always does, eventually.
It just isn’t tonight.
“And how will you find one of those?” Yoongi pokes him with his chopstick. “Sulking at my kitchen table isn’t going to score you anyone. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t bring many eligible bachelors home.”
Yeah, well, Jeongguk knows that. But this is all he’s got. He’s worn out—tired from his thesis and the graduate program that almost ended him over the last few months. Now that the work is said and done and his diploma sits in the back of his closet somewhere, he barely has enough energy to leave the house. It’s not his best look. Living with his older brother also isn’t his best look, but it’s better than being stuck at his mother’s house.
The familiar tune he’s been humming in his head all day springs to the forefront of his mind, compliments of the social media he’s been consuming to keep his mind from reality.
Jeongguk smiles sadly. “I need a man in finance.”
Obviously, he’s been spending a little too much time on social media.
“That’s exactly the type of man you don’t need,” Yoongi interjects quickly. He adjusts the bun at the back of his neck, a few dark locks falling to frame his face. With his chopsticks pointed at Jeongguk, he does pack quite the intimidating punch. And, well, he is his hyung. “All they do is work. Did you not learn from my mistake?”
Jeongguk likes to make his own mistakes, thank you very much. He shrugs his shoulders, digging into his food again.
“As long as he’s rich and pays off my student loans, I really don’t care.”
They aren’t actually that bad.
“If you stayed and studied here like the rest of us and didn’t go to university abroad, then you wouldn’t have this issue,” Yoongi interjects, always eager to get just one more jab in. It’s his way of holding it against him, even a year after he’s returned from his brief stint abroad. “This isn’t who you are. Get yourself together, Jeongguk-ah. Stop with the pity party. It’s not a good look on you.”
The words don’t hold any bite. Yoongi may not say it out loud, how he enjoys having the company of Jeongguk around.
“I’m afraid I can’t get it together.”
Yoongi’s phone pings before he can answer, lighting up with yet another notification from his dating application. Since it went south with the one-who-shall-not-be-named, Yoongi has been seeking his revenge with anyone who’s willing to get under him. It’s not a bad strategy at all, and for what it’s worth, Yoongi seems to be thriving. His hair has grown long and his skin is glowing, which clearly means he’s on to something…
The idea suddenly dawns on him.
What he needs is a distraction. Something, someone, to get his mind off this godforsaken rut he’s found himself in. A night of fun, perhaps two or three if he feels so inclined. A change to his routine, something he hasn’t indulged in for way too long.
Why didn’t he think of this sooner? Suddenly, a little too much excitement floods his veins.
“You know what I’m going to do?” Jeongguk perks up at the thought. On the other end of the table, Yoongi narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I’m going to create a profile on that app you’re using! I’ll just put it out for the world to see. That way, people can have their pick.”
Yoongi snorts. “You’re going to do what? Create a dating profile where you say you’re looking for a sugar daddy?”
“No, that would seem desperate,” Jeongguk brushes off, his gears turning as he navigates through the pages on his phone. He thinks he still has the app on there, even if he never got around to using it the first time around. He doesn’t even know why he downloaded it. “I have to be demure. Mindful. Cutesy.”
Yoongi heaves a loud sigh as he rubs his hand over his face.
“You need to get off the fucking Internet,” he mumbles into his hands. “That’s what you need to do.”
“Look, you either want me to get out, or you don’t.” Jeongguk waves the phone in the air between them. “What’s the worst that could happen? I get laid and it puts a bit of a pep in my step?”
Yoongi chews the inside of his cheek, knowing damn well that he can’t really refute the logic. It’s how he has been coping, after all. One should not throw stones in glasshouses, and all that.
“That would be the best case scenario,” Yoongi mumbles over a bite of sweet potato, yet not refuting the idea. “The worst case scenario would be you finding a man in finance, but we can cross and burn that bridge when we get there.”
The smile he fires off in Jeongguk’s direction tells him that he definitely isn’t going to talk him out of this idea. So Jeongguk goes to work, crafting his profile to perfectly suit his needs—not too desperate, but enough of a flair to get someone’s attention. It’s just something fun, not anything he wants to spend too much time pontificating.
JJK (24)
I’m looking for a man in finance. You don’t have to be 6’5’’ 178-180 cm will do. You don’t have to have blue eyes. I’m not picky. A trust fund would help, but is not required. Self-made is acceptable. DM for serious inquiries only.
Yoongi pinches his bottom lip as he looks it over. His brows knit together, as they always do when he’s deep in thought.
“No one’s going to bite on this,” Yoongi mumbles. “But then again, you’re half-naked in your profile picture, so that’ll surely attract a fuckboy or two.”
Jeongguk looks up from his phone. “I don’t want a fuckboy?”
“Then you shouldn’t look for a man in finance.”
Jeongguk disagrees, but he’ll pick that battle another day.
__________________
“Taehyung, are you even listening to me?”
Namjoon waves his hand in front of Taehyung’s face. He was, indeed, not listening, but he can’t be blamed, especially not when it’s five-thirty on a Friday night, and Namjoon is droning on about some sort of risk analysis consultant he wants to hire. Taehyung stopped listening long ago.
The thing about Namjoon is that he is passionate—he’s so absorbed in his pitch that he loses sight of himself and the audience. It always works in his favor. He has that quality about him, the ability to draw people in when he speaks. Taehyung has just known him his entire life, so tuning him out has become second nature.
Besides, he’s having too much fun on this dating app that Jimin talked him into downloading. It wasn’t without putting up a fight, of course, but after filtering his options, he finds himself rather intrigued by the selection of men. Mostly, he just has a lot of fun swiping left and right, depending on his mood and what their profile picture elicits in him. It’s not his usual method of looking for a partner, but nothing else has worked lately, so he’s resorted to a new kind of desperation.
“No, I wasn’t,” Taehyung admits sheepishly, putting on his best smile as he looks up from his phone. He doesn’t lock it, because he doesn’t want to risk losing the profile he has up. “I’m sorry. What were you saying, hyung?”
Namjoon heaves a sigh, but the corner of his lips turns up just slightly, indicating that he is at least a tad bit amused by what is unfolding.
“Are you on that dating website again?”
The other thing about Namjoon is this: he’s one of the lucky ones to have found his soulmate already. The disgustingly in love, kind of guy. Unlike Taehyung, he hasn’t found himself on the dating scene in the last ten years, spared from the trials and tribulations of finding a suitable partner in sub-par waters.
Which is exactly why Namjoon finds this amusing, somehow able to live vicariously through Taehyung as he trudges through the trenches of the dating scene.
“I am,” Taehyung chuckles. “This guy is hilarious. He’s going on about wanting a man in finance, but not one who has a trust fund. Self-made is okay, and they don’t have to be 6’5’’,” he says, honestly a bit unsure of how tall that even is in meters. “He says 178-180 cm will do, and that blue eyes aren’t a requirement.”
For once, Taehyung understands a reference. His cousin would be proud of him, relentless in her quest to get him to download the app that steals too much of his time for no reason but mindless entertainment. He isn’t proud of the fact that he has been spending his free time on TikTok, of all places. But such is life, on occasion.
Namjoon doesn’t seem to catch the reference.
“Well, you are self-made and 179 cm tall,” Namjoon adds. “You seem to fit his profile.”
“Exactly!” Taehyung interjects triumphantly. “He’s 42, which is perfect, only four years older than me,” he continues. “But most importantly, look at his fucking body, hyung!”
Taehyung holds the profile picture open, which, if he’s being honest, is what he has spent the last few minutes looking at. Especially so the abs, and the way the man’s tattoos wrap up the entire length of his arm to perfectly envelop his shoulder. His face is just out of view, turned to the side, but he catches a glance of his sharp jawline, briefly wondering how his lips would feel against it. He’s Taehyung’s wettest dream, and to top it off, he seems to have a sense of humor.
“Damn, Tae,” Namjoon agrees, whistling low under his breath when he steps closer to take a look. “You better swipe right on him, or I’m going to.”
Taehyung snatches the phone back and presses it to his chest in an instant, not keen on risking Namjoon touching it by accident. The action brings a delighted reaction out of Namjoon, who throws his head back with laughter. Taehyung can never be too safe, so he quickly peers down on his screen, swiping right on the mystery man before he can mess it up.
“I beat you to it, so I call dibs.”
Namjoon shakes his head.
“I am married, Taehyung-ah. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Well, I’m just saying this man is mine, that’s all.”
“We don’t call dibs on men at 38 years old.”
“You can’t stop me,” Taehyung retorts. “Now let’s finish this godforsaken pitch so we can go drink.”
Namjoon salutes him, and it takes all Taehyung has to not whip out his phone and look at the profile picture again.