Taehyung hates the rain, especially in Seoul. It's not refreshing like the rain in Daegu and if it accidentally falls in your mouth it tastes like metal and smog. Unfortunately for him, the wet season has come and most often than not, he's caught in a downpour waiting for the next bus.

If he didn't love his job so damn much, he would move back home, probably take up the farm and spend his days doing what he was always meant to do, but just the thought of it churns his stomach.

He could never go back.

Not after Yoonji.

The bus is on time gratefully, and Taehyung takes a seat and watches the streets of Seoul go by, wishing he could bottle moments like these, moments where he could get lost in the mundane pattern of life and lose the chaotic thoughts in his head. It's one of the better qualities of the busy city; Taehyung has never been without distraction for the last three years that he's been here.

His stop arrives, and he disembarks from the vehicle, pulling his umbrella closer to his body as he winds through pedestrians to arrive at his workplace for the day. He likes this particular client, an old man who is dying of lung disease from too many years of intensive smoking. Though a little gruff, he's jolly and quick-witted and seems to like Taehyung a lot. It always makes it easier if the patients are fond of him.

When he gets to the proper floor, Taehyung knocks twice as usual, hiking his bag over his shoulder. He stands in the hallway for a few moments, adjusting his scrubs and noticing that the walls have a new coat of paint.

The door opens then, the old man's daughter, Soojin, greeting him with a tense smile. "Ah, Taehyung-ah. Did you not get my message?"

Taehyung frowns at this, pulling out his phone to see three missed calls. "I'm sorry, noona. I guess I had the volume off," he explains. "Is everything ok?"

Soojin casts her gaze to the ground at this, worrying her hands. "Appa passed away this morning. Hyejin found him. It happened in his sleep."

Stunned, Taehyung clasps a hand over his mouth. Of course, news like this was to be expected eventually, but he has never had one of his patients pass away in his care. He had always been contracted out to another family before tragedy struck and this time it hurts far worse just knowing the man so intimately for many months. Being a home healthcare nurse was difficult in many ways, but this is by far the hardest thing Taehyung has ever had to deal with, and that's saying a lot, because he's lost someone before.

"Noona, I'm so sorry," he says quickly, hoping that he's not being rude in anyway. "I should've looked at my phone—"

"Taehyung-ah, please don't worry," Soojin assures, taking his hand in hers. "He loves you like a son and you were a blessing to our family. I'm happy that my father was so well taken care of in his final days. You're an angel, Taehyung-ah."

Taehyung blushes at this, batting away the compliment. He smiles at Soojin, but then it quickly dissolves into tears and he lets the woman hug him through it. She cries too, still fresh with memories, and Taehyung hates that she has to go through this because he knows exactly what it feels like to not get to say goodbye. It hurts worse than any physical pain and it sticks with you through a thousand lifetimes, through thousands of bus rides and lonely meals.

Pulling back, Soojin pats Taehyung on the cheek. "I've already called your agency and let them know, so I guess you'll be reassigned to another family? You'll be a blessing to them too, I'm sure."

"I guess I will, though I'll miss you and your sister, and of course, your father," Taehyung admits, wiping at the corners of his eyes. "He's my favorite patient."

Soojin grins at this, something sweet and genuine and then they're saying their awkward goodbyes and Taehyung tries not to linger in order to let her grieve.

Once he's in the lobby of the apartment building, he finds a bench to sit on before checking his email. Most likely, he's already been contacted by the Seoul branch of his home-health agency and the secretary, a sweet woman named Eunri, has given him some new contract options to look over. He's only had one patient for the last six months, so his schedule is wide open.

The email is sitting there in his inbox with a tagline that reads The perfect contract for you, Taehyung-ah!, and he opens it, wondering why she only sent one possible contract. She always sends at least five, sometimes a dozen, because nurses must be choosy when picking patients to bond with and care for. Not every contract works out for either party.

When he glances at the attached pdf document, Taehyung scrunches his eyes in confusion. Surely this offer was fake? No one could be offering that much of a salary for two months of home healthcare. Maybe the patient was extremely terminal...

Checking the details, he's shocked to discover that the patient is a twenty-five-year-old disabled man who's confined to a wheelchair. He needs daily care such as bathing, grooming, meal assistance, and occasional mobility assistance, which are easy enough for someone like Taehyung. So why was the offered pay so exorbitant?

At the bottom of the document is the contact information, and Taehyung immediately dials the phone number, curious about the contract.

"Hello?"

Taehyung clears his throat and wipes his sweaty hand on his scrub pants. "May I speak with Park Jimin? My name is Kim Taehyung and I'm with Yeongwanhi Home Healthcare. I've been matched with your case and I was calling about the details of the job offer."

"Yes! That's me. I'm Jimin. Thank you so much for calling!" The man laughs then, smooth and tinkling, and Taehyung gets the feeling that they're very close in age.

"Are you the patient?"

Jimin hums on the other end of the line. "Oh no, I'm his current caregiver, but I need to go home to visit Busan for a few months to take care of my mother. She's been sick for awhile and my siblings and I are making arrangements with my father."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Taehyung laments. So that explains the short duration, but the issue of the salary is still a mystery. "So you intend to come back to care for the patient?"

"Yes, but I'm not a healthcare professional. I'm his childhood friend," Jimin admits, his voice noticeably less cheery at this topic. "He was involved in a car accident about four years ago. His pelvis and torso were pinned in the wreckage and he was paralyzed from the waist down. His other injuries weren't as severe, thankfully, but I'm really the only person he has in his life, so I've been responsible for him ever since."

Swallowing down a sour tang of sorrow, Taehyung hums in reply. This patient's story hits home a little too hard, makes him remember a sweet girl whose family didn't care for her, who Taehyung had to be there for when things got hard, when the doctors told Yoonji that treatment wasn't working and that the thing growing inside her brain was going to claim her life. In this moment, Taehyung appreciates the stranger named Jimin, because he knows what it's like to be the only person counted on in the gravest of situations.

"That's.... That's really kind of you, to take care of him," Taehyung finally replies, squirming on the bench. He's nervous now, anxiety set off by the memory of his past, of her.

Jimin laughs on the other end of the line. "Trust me, you can't help but love him after you get to know him. There's a reason why we've been friends for over ten years. But I guess that will be for you to judge? We would like to have dinner with you to discuss the offer if that's ok with you."

"That sounds great actually," Taehyung admits, his mood lifting just a bit by the mere thought. He's had to agree to contracts before without getting to see the patient firsthand, and it's difficult to do your job to the best of your ability when you stumble in blindly. "I was hoping to meet him first since he'll be a unique case for me. I'm really only used to elderly or terminal patients. I've never dealt with someone this young."

"I'm aware," Jimin admits with mirth. He chuckles a little, a breathy thing that sounds juvenile but endearing. "When the agency forwarded the resumes, I decided on you because the patient is.... unique, as you said. He's— Well, he can be stubborn and very determined but it's mostly a good thing. I think it will be interesting for the both of you and he needs a change of pace, to be honest."

Taehyung cocks a brow at that, readjusting the grip on his phone. "Stubborn? No offense, but that doesn't bode well for me in my line of work." He chuckles a little just to let the other man know that it's in jest.

Laughing, Jimin shifts around, and Taehyung swears he hears someone shouting in the background, high-pitched and whiny. "Stubborn in a good way, I promise. For example, he was completely paralyzed from the waist down after the accident, but once we found a physical therapist he liked, he's been working very hard to gain back his mobility. Right now, he's regained feeling in his pelvis all the way down to the tops of his thighs. Doctors said it was because of his determination."

"Wow, that's impressive," Taehyung admits, genuinely surprised. He's not an expert on spinal injuries or nerve damage, but he feels like the feat of this patient is quite extraordinary. Maybe he will enjoy working with the young man.

"It is," Jimin chirps like a proud mother and Taehyung can't help but smile at the fondness in the other man's voice. The patient is lucky to have someone so kind take care of him. Hopefully Taehyung won't be a disappointment in Jimin's absence. "So, I know this is sudden, but I leave for Busan in a week and I want to have things in order. Is it possible to meet for dinner tonight? We would like to host you at the house, you know, so the patient is comfortable. He's not exactly fond of meeting new people, especially in this context. I hope you understand."

Taehyung sucks in a breath before moving his phone away from his ear to check the time. He's got a whole day ahead of him now due to his last patient's passing, but he still has to get the proper documents ready for his prospective patient to look over— liability insurance, contract requirements, medical documentation, background check, etc. It would be difficult to do, but he could get the job done if he headed straight home now. "Sure," he finds himself agreeing, settling back against the bench.

"Wonderful!" Jimin cheers and he seems genuinely excited, perhaps because he's that much closer to hiring someone to replace him, but Taehyung wants to think it's because the man really is looking forward to meeting him. "I'll text you the address. We will expect you around six. Is that ok?"

"Works for me. Thank you, Jimin-ssi."

"Oh please, no need to be so formal. I'm young, you sound young, and you may be working with us soon. Am I correct in assuming you might be in your early twenties?" Jimin sounds cautious, like he doesn't want to offend, and this makes Taehyung giggle.

"I'm twenty-one," he tells his potential employer.

"I'm twenty-three, so that makes me your hyung," Jimin teases with a light chuckle. The man really is friendly and so very warm. Taehyung finds himself relaxing despite the heavy morning. "See you at six, Taehyung-ah?"

"See you at six, Jimin-hyung."

It's possibly the most perplexing phone call Taehyung has ever had, but it leaves something behind that lingers in his head the rest of the day and it's only when he's in a taxi heading towards the potential client's house that he realizes what the feeling is— anticipation.

He hasn't felt anything close to that in nearly three years.

—————

The address Jimin gave him must be wrong.

It has to be.

Because there is no way his potential patient lives in this monstrosity of an apartment building in Gangnam-gu, with manicured plants and shiny marble floors covering every square inch of the lobby.

"Can I help you?" a woman behind the counter asks, displaying a white smile with small teeth.

Taehyung manages to stop gawking long enough to answer. He's dressed nicer than his normal attire, which is his work scrubs, but he suddenly feels far too casual for a place like this. "Um, I'm looking for apartment 1102. A Mr. Min?"

The woman nods, pointing towards the elevators. "Yes, we were told to expect you. The penthouse is on floor eleven, just take the elevator to the proper floor. Have a nice day."

"Thank you." Taehyung bows slightly, still dazed by the fact that this is indeed the correct address before doing as instructed. The elevator ride is long— long enough to let his thoughts run a little wild.

This is possibly the richest patient he's had since he got out of medical school. Not that it makes a difference, but the other home-health workers always said that there was a huge difference between clients that had close to nothing and those that had too much. One considered the nurses as their helpers, their aids in desperate times of need, and the other half saw them as glorified servants.

Taehyung bristles at this thought. He's never done well with being treated poorly or looked down upon. He suddenly has a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he shakes it off, recalling Jimin's warm mannerism and easygoing demeanor. If the patient was anything like that man, then Taehyung would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

The elevator dings, coming to a complete stop and opening to a small hallway with only one door. It looks as if it's made of polished cherry wood and gilded with gold accents. There's a small button on the side and Taehyung swallows down his anxiety, clutching the folder of documents in one hand as he presses the button with the other.

The chime of tinkling bells resounds and not a minute later, the door swings open to reveal a short man with silvery hair and slightly droopy eyes. He smiles so wide that Taehyung instantly knows who he's looking at.

"You must be Jimin-hyung."

"Ooh, what gave it away?" Jimin teases, his voice light and airy. His eyes sparkle and Taehyung can't help but smile back. "You're obviously Taehyung-ah, but you look.... different than I imagined."

Grimacing, Taehyung tries his best not to look affected by the statement. He knows he looks quirky with his yellowing bleached hair, his strong, nearly black brows, and the ever-present tint of cherry lip balm on his mouth, but he's grown used to the stares. Especially when he puts his hair in a little ponytail or when he decides to wear his favorite knock-off Gucci shirt with the floral pattern from the seventies. Tonight though, he just has on a pair of fitted black pants and a blue button-down, but somehow something unmistakably him always manages to filter through.

Before he can reply though, Jimin breaks out into another grin that causes his eyes to crinkle up into little half-moons, nearly disappearing. "I love it!" he exclaims. "I really like your hair too. It's like a baby mullet but you actually pull it off nicely."

"Thank you," Taehyung manages to say, just as Jimin grabs his wrist and pulls him inside, softly shutting the door behind them. He tries to focus on taking off his shoes and placing them on the mat near the door, but his eyes keep wandering to the penthouse in front of him.

Holy fuck.

The entire place looks so chic, so completely modern in muted shades of blue, grey, and white with strong accents of black. There's a black leather sectional sofa in the living room with a massive tv hung on the wall above a waterfall that seems to cascade into the stone floor. An earthy smell clings to the air, and Taehyung notices an array of large potted plants and small trees near the corner of the space, all framing a massive grand piano.

As he moves further into the penthouse, lead by Jimin who is talking about tonight's meal, Taehyung notices that there is a second level to the place, but beside a set of stairs, there's a ramp that leads upwards as well as what looks like a chair lift off to the side, built into the wall. He supposes that's how the patient manages to get around his home.

"Anyways, Seokjin-hyung prepared a delicious meal for us and he hopes you enjoy it," Jimin is saying, just as they round the corner into an opulent dining room with a polished wooden table already set for guests. "He's our chef, but he owns a restaurant downtown, so he had to leave to take care of business there. Hopefully you can meet him another time, yeah?"

"Sounds great," Taehyung breathes out as he takes the seat offered to him by Jimin. He stares down at the fine china plates and gleaming silverware, unsure of what his next action should be.

Jimin has disappeared through the doorway but he promptly comes back with three crystal glasses and a bottle of wine. "Yoongi-hyung will be joining us soon. He takes forever to get ready. We don't get many guests."

"Yoongi?" Taehyung questions as he takes a glass full of deep merlot from his host.

"Right, I haven't told you his name," Jimin muses. "I did that for a reason. The patient is Min Yoongi."

Taehyung feels like a strange, weighted tension has settled over the room and Jimin is looking at him expectantly, like he's gauging the nurse's reaction. "Should I know who that is? I don't mean to sound rude but—"

"You don't know who Min Yoongi is?" Jimin sputters, nearly spilling the wine he's pouring. He sets the bottle down and leans over the table with narrowed eyes. Taehyung can only stare back, eyes wide and unblinking. "Oh my god, you really don't have any idea do you? Well, that actually makes you a great candidate."

"Is he famous or something?" Taehyung takes a sip of his wine, trying to still his shaking hands. He feels like he's missed something very important.

Jimin laughs at that, waving his hand around dismissively. "Well, he's not famous like an idol or actor, but he's heir to Min Incorporated, you know, one of Seoul's biggest tech companies?"

Taehyung blinks. "Uh, I don't really read the papers and I just stream dramas on tv."

Jimin blinks.

The atmosphere becomes unbelievably thick, the only sound that of the large clock on the wall ticking away.

"Oh my god," Jimin exclaims once again. "You're perfect." The man isn't being sarcastic; Jimin is actually beaming as he finishes pouring the wine, his silver hair falling over his forehead.

Swirling his wine around, Taehyung tries his best to appear collected, but inside he's completely bewildered.

So it seems that his client is not only rich, but is one of the richest men in the city, and Taehyung of all people has been offered a contract to care for him for two months. A contract worth a lot of money, which makes sense given the man's financial status, but something isn't clicking for him.

"Jimin-hyung," he begins, still getting used to the casual way the other wants to be addressed, "I don't mean to be rude, but why is the salary for this position so high? It's only for two months, right?"

Jimin pauses, his hand hovering over a wine glass. "Oh? It's too much? I thought the pay was comparable to similar contracts...."

With narrowed eyes, Taehyung watches his host struggle to situate the wine on the table. His posture is stiff but he's trying to appear nonchalant and the entire act doesn't sit well with him. It makes him anxious and unsettled, which is not a good start to a working relationship. "You can tell me the truth," he says after awhile, voice purposefully soft as to not offend Jimin.

"Well," Jimin bites his lip and looks over to Taehyung with apprehension. "The position is a live-in position. I didn't mention that in the query because I didn't want someone who was just looking for a place to crash for a few months, you know?"

Taehyung supposes he understands, especially given the salary involved and who the client is. "You wanted someone who was serious about the job rather than the accommodations," he observes.

"Yes!" Jimin seems genuinely relieved at the acknowledgement, his smile returning. "This dinner is to get a feel for you before anything is signed, but I already like you so much. The secretary at the agency was right— you seem like a really sweet person, the kind of guy you want caring for you."

Blushing, Taehyung takes a sip of his wine. "Well, thank you. I feel like we've hit off pretty well so far," he admits. "I hope the patient likes me as much as you."

Jimin giggles, hiding his mouth behind his small hand. "I have a good feeling about you and Yoongi-hyung. I was worried that we would find someone that would be too concerned about his wealth, but you have absolutely no idea... amazing..."

"What's amazing?" comes a gruff voice from the doorway, but Taehyung can't see anything past the archway. He figures it's his prospective patient, so he stands at attention, making his way around the table until he sees Jimin leaning over to whisper into the man's ear.

He still can't see anything beyond Jimin's back, just the wheelchair and a set of very petite legs resting lightly on the footrest, clad in black pants and shiny dress shoes. Jimin giggles some more and moves away, revealing the patient and Taehyung feels like all the air in his lungs has evaporated.

The man in the wheelchair is just as young as described, but he's nothing like what Taehyung could've possibly imagined. Because sitting there, tucked into himself, is a man with a face so familiar that Taehyung feels tears well up in the corners of his stinging eyes.

This stranger wears the face of his first and only love.

This Yoongi looks remarkably like Yoonji— albeit a little older with cropped hair— but he's so reminiscent of her that Taehyung can still taste his girlfriend's lips, feel her weak hand squeeze his on top of the hospital sheets, and see those feline eyes flutter as her veins were flushed with chemo drugs.

He stares and stares, and the only thing that rips his mind away from the past is the present sound of his wine glass shattering on the ground.

—————-

Yoongi watches in abject fascination as a deep burgundy puddle pools on the floor with bits of broken glass floating around in the tide. He brings his eyes back up to the guest— his guest's face— and all he can see are strong features and a look of pure shock.

He doesn't know whether to be offended or amused.

On one hand, he is one of the wealthiest people in the city, a former playboy whose antics always made the tabloids; on the other, he's a former playboy confined to a wheelchair, his arms toned from years of pushing himself around but his legs little more than dead sticks.

If he were in this man's place, he would be shocked too, but certainly not enough to spill such expensive wine.

"Are you ok, Taehyung-ah?" Jimin questions, rushing frantically to the aid of their guest.

The man, this Taehyung, stammers out an apology and then he's turning so pink in the face that his bleached hair next to his burning cheeks looks respectively like vanilla and strawberry ice cream.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, I just— I— he—" The man's voice is deep and smooth, not anything like what he expected.

"I know I'm not much to look at, but this was kind of unnecessary," Yoongi interjects dryly, rolling over to take his spot at the head of the table. He watches Jimin fuss over their guest, taking a rag to the man's pants and Yoongi sighs. "Jimin, just call Hobi. I'm sure he's still in the building somewhere."

Jimin perks up at that; his eyes are wild. "Oh my god, you're right! I'll be right back." He saunters out of the room then and Yoongi eyes the other man.

"Did Jimin not tell you about me?"

Swallowing hard, Taehyung fiddles with the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt. It's not expensive, but nice, and it hangs over a set of broad shoulders. He looks strangely put together and unkempt at the same time, but of course, the terribly bleached hair isn't helping the image. "No, that's not it," he refutes quickly. "I just— you look like someone I used to know. Do you have any siblings in Daegu or maybe a cousin— a girl?"

This makes Yoongi laugh, because if this man knew anything about him, or anything about his father, then it's a rather simple question. "My family is from Daegu, but no, I don't have any family there anymore," he explains with a shrug. "Both my mother and father were only children and I only have an older brother in the service."

Which is why I'm here, Yoongi wants to add. His status as a possible heir to the company is the only reason his father hadn't disowned him yet. The only reason.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry for being so startled then," Taehyung apologizes sheepishly, wringing the cloth Jimin had left with him, still standing right next to the puddle. "And for the wine. Shit, I'm usually more professional than this. Shit, I just said shit." His eyes grow wide and his cheeks glow even redder, which manages to soften up Yoongi somewhat, but not nearly enough because Taehyung just uttered the word "professional" and suddenly Yoongi has a sinking feeling in his gut.

"You're a nurse, aren't you?" he asks, eyes narrowing in contemplation. When the other man nods and whispers a squeaked out "yes", Yoongi immediately pushes himself back from the table and turns his chair around before looking back over his shoulder. "Excuse me for just a moment. I need to talk to Jimin."

Taehyung shifts awkwardly on his feet and offers a strained smile. "Ok."

How Yoongi doesn't force his chair to race across the penthouse is a miracle because all he wants to do is strangle his childhood best friend. He finds Jimin and Hobi huddled near the doorway, whispering conspiratorially.

"Just hurry and clean up the wine before hyung finds out that—"

"That this is a job interview and not a blind date?" Yoongi finishes for him, smirking. Jimin had always thought he was clever, even as a child, but Yoongi was older, wiser, and far more observant.

Hobi is clutching a basket of cleaning supplies in one hand and a mop in the other. "You didn't tell him?" the housekeeper squeals, eyes growing wide as he begins to laugh hysterically. "You invited the guy and didn't even tell hyung? No wonder he actually put effort into dressing up. Probably thought he was going to hop on a dick tonight."

Gasping, Jimin claps his hands over the other's mouth. "Fuck, Hobi-hyung, he can probably hear you from the dining room! And no, I didn't tell Yoongi-hyung because he wouldn't have met with him, you know that. He's such a stubborn bastard."

Yoongi clicks the brake on his wheelchair and settles in with an exasperated expression. "I'm still here and I can hear you," he states with a sigh. "Seriously Jimin, why is this necessary?" He turns his attention to the housekeeper. "I thought you agreed to help me while Jimin is gone, Hobi?"

Hobi's eyes grow comically wider and he nearly drops his supplies and gapes at Jimin. "You didn't tell him I couldn't do it either?"

"Wow" is all Yoongi says as he watches Jimin explode and Hobi cower, bickering back and forth with each other, arguing about him like he's not there, or rather, like two parents fighting over who has the kid for the weekend. With another heavy sigh, he unlocks his chair and wheels it back into the dining room. He comes to a stop when he finds Taehyung on the floor, surrounded by what looks like an entire roll of paper towels wadded up on the spilled wine.

The man snaps his head up, clearly embarrassed. "Uh, I found the roll and I thought I would just..." he trails off, gesturing at the puddle which is nearly soaked up by now. When Yoongi doesn't reply, he leans back down, placing his hand on the floor before hissing and quickly retracting it.

"Careful," Yoongi chides, rolling over to him. "There's glass in that too."

Taehyung looks up at him from the floor, all wide chocolate eyes, red, heavily-balmed lips, and smooth, caramel skin. He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it, gaze still boring right into Yoongi.

Fuck.

Yoongi has to get rid of this guy.

He has to, because Taehyung is exactly the kind of guy playboy Yoongi with functional legs would've spent all night talking to at some bar, laughing as they sipped on cheap liquor and glancing over the rims of their glasses to give heated, cheeky looks of interest.

Yes, back then, Yoongi would've bit his lip and slid his veiny hand over Taehyung's thigh and the other man would've cocked one of his thick black brows and said "Let's get out of here" and that would've been it. They would've fucked at either of their places, tipsy and aggressive, lost in themselves and completely oblivious to anything else.

But that was a whole lifetime ago, another Yoongi, and in this lifetime, men like Taehyung didn't look at Yoongi with anything other than pity. They saw his limp legs, shriveled muscles, and the chair, and wanted to baby him while they went out with drinks with other people, always to come home to the man who couldn't run away.

It's been four years since the accident but it didn't take Yoongi nearly that long to figure out that he was nothing more than a pair of useless legs, no longer a worthy lover.

Hence why he has to make Taehyung leave. He seems too sweet, too kind, already a martyr of sorts for looking after patients, and Yoongi knows exactly what will happen if the man stays.

Pain.

"Since this is a job interview, let's get this over with," Yoongi suggests, backing up and taking his place at the table once more. Taehyung doesn't move from the floor, still so bewildered. "Please sit. Our housekeeper will take care of that."

Carefully, Taehyung rises to his feet, visibly unnerved, but quickly composes himself. He sits across from Yoongi and his hands grab onto a file sitting in front of him. It must contain the required documents for his profession. It looks like he came prepared; too bad he won't be getting a job tonight.

"Don't these things start off with some sort of question about your skills or something?" Yoongi muses as he folds his hands. "Well, I'm not into that fake bullshit, so how about I ask you something more useful. What are your flaws? Why shouldn't I hire you?"

If Taehyung was at a loss before, he's certainly dumbfounded now, blinking at Yoongi as if he was already more of a freak than he currently was. "I— I don't really know how to answer that?" His statement comes out as a squeaky question and Yoongi wants to laugh at the way the man pouts, his eyebrows drawing together, but he forces himself to remain impassive.

He has to get rid of Taehyung.

Clearing his throat, he reiterates. "What are the flaws you have that other nurses don't? And don't give me that 'I'm too good of a worker' or 'I'm a perfectionist' shit that people like to pull in interviews."

Across the table, Taehyung blinks several times. "Well," he finally drawls out, hands gripping the file in his hands. "I'm weird? Yeah, I'm weird. Most clients find me off-putting at first."

Yoongi snorts. "You're weird? That's your answer? That's a bullshit answer too. What do you mean you're weird?"

"Uh, the hair," Taehyung explains, pointing at his head. "I keep it bleached but I'm too lazy to tone it out so it's always yellow. Um, let's see.... I go through at least one stick of lip balm every two weeks, unless the store is out of the brand I usually get. I have a dog who I treat as my child and we cuddle every night. I collect art and I like fashion but I'm too broke to really get into that. I like photography too but I only have a phone so most of the pictures are shitty. Oh, and one time in college I covered my entire body with fake tattoos, you know, from those convenience store machines?" He finishes his rant and doesn't even crack a smile, still anxiously staring at Yoongi in expectation.

Well, that was a lot to unpack, and Yoongi could spend hours going over all those blurted-out factoids, but instead he laughs and says, "Were you drunk? You know, during the whole tattoo thing?"

Scrunching up his face, Taehyung looks to be in deep contemplation. "No, I think I lost a bet. But I did look really cool actually. I liked it, anyway." He laughs then and the sound is so rich and velvety that Yoongi can physically feel it enveloping him.

He has to get rid of Taehyung.

"I bet it looked fucking stupid," he quips back. "What kind of person does something like that?"

"Me, I guess, but to each his own opinion." Taehyung shrugs, unbothered.

Yoongi seethes, because he thought this would be easy. Most of the people employed underneath him can't handle his scathing glare, his pointed questions. If they weren't offended, they were uncomfortable enough to leave, but Taehyung looks like he actually doesn't mind this process, like he really can't see Yoongi trying to be an asshole.

"I'm not going to hire you," Yoongi bites out, ready to end this little dance. He would find someone else to care for him, maybe an older woman with a maternal instinct. Someone that he could actually bear for two whole months and not this— this man with the overly shiny lips and the glowing skin. Not this man who looks wild and mismatched but also like his face belongs on a magazine or in Yoongi's dreams.

Not this Taehyung who seems so gentle with his patients, yet reminds Yoongi of just how much he lost and what he'll never have.

Taehyung furrows his brows. "What? Why? I answered your question."

"Because I can't be dependent on some quirky idiot no matter what your medical degree says," Yoongi retorts, already rolling himself away from the table. "You can stay for dinner, though. Good luck with your job search."

Behind him, he hears the solid wood chair scrape across the floor and he just knows that he isn't going to be free from this guy anytime soon.

"This is really unfair," Taehyung protests, his voice booming. "You're obviously trying to be an asshole to me, but I've seen tons of patients like you. People who use their illness as an excuse to push others away. Look, if you don't want to hire me because of my resume, that's one thing, but don't turn me away because you're uncomfortable. I'm here to help care for you, to make life easier. Don't you want someone to be there for you?"

Yoongi stops moving, his hands resting on the rubber of his wheels.

No. He doesn't want someone to be there for him. He doesn't deserve that and no one deserves to be burdened with caring for half a man.

Slowly, he turns around, getting a glimpse of the fire in Taehyung's eyes, the determination. Yoongi had that once. Had that for nearly three years as he regained the feeling in his pelvis. But then his body quit on him and his mind followed suit. "Tell you what," he drawls, smirking. "I'll give you the job if you go down to the nearest convenience store and cover yourself with fake tattoos. It will be like reliving your college days. Deal?"

One of Taehyung's brows twitch and his lips pull into a frown. "That's.... ridiculous. No one would do that for a job."

Yoongi hears "no one would do that for you", so he grimaces and exits the dining room, rolling past Jimin and Hobi who are still arguing in the foyer, Jimin begging and pleading with the housekeeper to take care of Yoongi for just a short amount of time. He ignores them, settles his chair in the lift, and zones out as the machine does its job.

Minutes later, he's entering his bedroom, getting close enough to the edge of his bed to pull himself into it, dragging his legs along. He sighs, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow and just lays there, thinking about his life like it belongs to someone else, some character in a movie that would find love and walk again just before the credits rolled. But he knows better. Years from now, he'll be doing the same thing, lying in this bed, waiting on Jimin to take him to the bathroom and wipe his ass if needed.

It's with tears streaming down his cheeks that Yoongi drifts asleep, the moonlight pouring in through the sheer curtains. He's unsure of the hour when he's awakened by the shrill chime of the doorbell, but he hears enough commotion to rouse his interest, so he pulls himself into his chair and wheels out onto the balcony overlooking the main room.

There, standing in the middle, is a bewildered Jimin, clothed in pajamas, talking to a stranger. It's only when Yoongi gets closer does the man move and he gets an eyeful of Taehyung ripping open his button down shirt to reveal a myriad of horrendously tacky fake tattoos haphazardly covering his body, crawling up his neck, and snaking around his torso.

He smirks up at Yoongi and that deep voice bounces off the pristine walls. There's a piece of paper in his hands— a contract.

"When do I start, Yoongi-ssi?"