C25 - Soul-ed MATE

The motel room is empty. Hoseok’s Louis Vuitton steamer bag is still on the floor, overflowing with a sparkle dress and unicorn socks. Worry eclipses my grief over losing the house.

What if someone else convinced the motel owner to let them inside?

There’s no sign of a struggle, except for the assortment of lotions and bath bombs strewn over the bathroom counter. I head outside, following the sounds of banging and drunken laughter.

Behind the motel a wall of boxes and trash cans do little to hide a makeshift camp. I realize this is where Jin must sleep every night, in one of the low stacks of blankets tucked against the wall.

There must be more men than I realize, but only two figures surround the fire rising out of a rust- coated barrel. Sitting on a crate is a hulking figure with a low rumbling voice. On the opposite side of the fire an animated Hoseok tells a story with his hands.

I don’t even have the energy to get mad at him for being reckless. It’s so quintessentially Hoseok to make friends with anyone and everyone. And besides, the circle looks inviting to me now, when my heart feels heavy as a stone, eyes burning from the tears I shed on the way home.

Jin spots me first. “You look like hell.”

Hoseok takes one look at me and envelops me in a hug, his slender arms surprisingly strong. “Oh no,” he murmurs. “That asshole. That fcuker. I’ll kick his ass.”

I give him a watery laugh. “Thank you, but it wasn’t Yoongi. At least I don’t think so.”

“Sit down,” he says, guiding me to an upturned blue cooler. “We have cheap beer and all night long. What the hell happened?”

“I went early, before the auction. In the attic I found a diary that belonged to my mother. I never even knew she kept one.”

And the men she talked about, vying for her hand. Her reluctance to agree to my father’s proposal. She should have been going to concerts with friends, thinking about a career, but Daegu high society had very strict rules for omegas.

Even twenty years later, for me, there hadn’t been much give. My throat tightens.

“There’s so much about her I didn’t know.”

“That’s amazing,” Hoseok says.

“It would be, except I don’t have it.”

There are some things too personal to share, and what Min Yoongi did to me against the fireplace is one of them.

“The diary was part of the house, so it went to whoever won the auction.”

Jin makes a rough sound. “Rich people out to make a buck.”

I’m not sure if he knows that Hoseok is richer too—at least, when his stepbrother gives him permission to use the trust.

“I don’t know if it was a real estate person. Yoongi hadn’t seen him before. He didn’t talk to anyone else. But he seemed intent on buying the house. As if he would have spent anything.”

Hoseok looks thoughtful. “Like he wanted to live there?”

“No, he didn’t seem interested in the house itself. He kept looking at his phone, like he wanted to get out of there. It was strange.”

They’re silent a moment, digesting this. Then Jin holds something out. It takes me a second to realize that it’s a joint, rolled up thick and short. Namjoon did some partying with his frat brothers.

I went with him when he asked, but he knew I preferred to stay in.

Movie nights.

Study sessions.

That’s more my speed.

And I knew it would crush my father if I was caught with something. I don’t have to worry about his opinion now.

He’s not aware enough to ask questions, but I’ve already failed at everything. Dropped out of college, my fund depleted to pay his court-ordered restitution.

Lost my mother’s house. And that’s nothing compared to his horror if he learned I had auctioned myself.

I never plan to tell him the worst part, but any claim to fatherly pride is long gone.

Why shouldn’t I have fun now?

What else is there to lose?

I take the joint and put it to my lips. A deep breath. And a cough. “Oh my God.”

“My little innocent Jiminie,” Hoseok says, taking the joint from me. “That was your first hit, wasn’t it? You took too much.”

Jin eyes me with suspicion, as if I just revealed that I’m armed and dangerous. “How old are you exactly? You aren’t jailbait, are you?”

“Of course not,” I say, grabbing a sweat-slicked can of beer from the stash. “I’m going to turn twenty in two months.”

“That’s not actually old enough to drink,” Jin says, not appeased.

“He’s eighteen,” I say, pointing at Hoseok. “The genius skipped a few grades.”

“Tattletale,” Hoseok says before taking a drag.

Jin shakes his head. “Kids these days.”

“I can’t believe Yoongi didn’t buy the house for you,” Hoseok says, studying the smoke from the fire as if it contains the answers.

“He couldn’t. Something about Min Industries being the court- appointed holding company, so if he bid on the auction, it would be a conflict of interest.”

He shrugs as if unimpressed. “He knows other rich people. A couple mil is nothing to them. Surely, he could have gotten it if he wanted to.”

“I don’t see why he would. He already gave me a million dollars.”

“Still think he’s an asshole,” Hoseok says, passing the joint to Jin.

“I agree,” Jin says.

“What do you even know about it?” I say, uncomfortable with their assessment.

I know that Min Yoongi is an asshole, but somehow it feels weird for other people to point it out. I have a strange omega impulse to defend my alph—Min Yoongi that I force down.

“I know that anyone who lets you live in this shit hole isn’t a good guy,” Jin says.

I put my head in my hands, defeat washing over me in waves. “I can’t believe I lost the house.”

“It’s Min Yoongi’s fault,” Hoseok says in a pragmatic tone. “He’s behind everything—your father’s trials, losing the money. Even the auction.”

He’s always been the man behind the curtain, making everyone dance, tearing down my family brick by brick. And I let him touch me. I almost came for him against the fireplace.

“Give me that,” I say, reaching my hand out for the joint.

After a slight hesitation, Jin gives it to me. “Not too much.”

I take a deep drag, desperate for any oblivion I can find. After a minute the world feels a little shacky, my body alive in a new way. As if my skin can smell and see and hear the world around me. As if the air around me speaks.

“Wow,” I breathe.

Hoseok nods in satisfaction. “We’ll do a ritual cleanse.”

Another drag. “What?”

“My mom taught me this. In between husbands three and four she got into this pagan phase, like with divining crystals and tea leaves. Most of it’s bunk, but I like the cleanses.”

“Is this another one of your juice fast things? Because I don’t have a juicer in my motel room. Or, you know, fruits and vegetables.”

“No, silly. This is where you expel someone negative from your life.”

And then I can’t help myself.

“I’m not sure Min Yoongi is really negative. I mean, he is. But in his own way there’s a reason for it. He hasn’t hurt me specifically.”

Jin looks sceptical. “He’s the reason you’re here?”

“He doesn’t have to be evil,” Hoseok says. “Even though he kind of is. It can even be someone who’s good and kind. It just means that they’re negative to you, so this helps you remove their influence. Like imagine there’s an invisible red string of fate between you and them. This is cutting that string, setting you free.”

Free. That sounded good.

Because where was I, really?

With a million dollars and a father in a nursing home. A sad state of affairs but not an impossible one. I could build a life this way, if I could let go of my old one. If I could forget Min Yoongi.

“How does this work, then?”

“We need some herbs to throw in the fire. Sage. Maybe rosemary.” Hoseok bites his lip, looking all of eight years old as he struggles to remember.

Jin glances around. “There might be some grass where the concrete’s busted.”

Hoseok pulls a small bundle wrapped in tissue paper from a paper bag. “This will work. It’s almost like an herb.”

“Is that marijuana?”

I’m not sure why I’m even asking. Sage and rosemary won’t make me forget about Yoongi any more than this joint has.

“It’s medicinal,” Jin says gravely, as if we’re performing a serious operation.

“Fine,” I say, taking another drag. I really do need to be high for this. “But if I’m going to do this, you guys have to, too. There must be someone you should cut out of your lives.”

“Minho,” Hoseok says immediately. His stepbrother has been a thorn in his side ever since their father married his mother. The fact that they since divorced made things easier, but when his father died, they found out he’d put Minho in charge of the trust.

“The cleanse isn’t supposed to have bad effects on the person, is it?” I ask, because Minho’s a good guy. In fact the only time I met him, he was both nice and funny. Except whenever he has to deal with Hoseok, he seems to turn into the Grinch. They’re a bad match, but I wouldn’t want him harmed—even by a pretend ritual cleanse.

“No,” Hoseok assures me. “And oftentimes severing the link is the best thing for both parties. Like if two people are in some kind of infinite loop. Then it helps both people when the bond is broken.”

“It won’t matter to Yoongi either way.” He was completely unmoved by the fact that I’d lost the auction. His expression had been blank, his attitude all business as he oversaw the stranger’s contract with Min Industries.

I waited until the very last page was signed, on the one percent chance that his backing would fall through. That Yoongi would find some secret way to let me buy the house instead. He was completely stoic as he signed away the house, my mother’s diary inside.

“It will help Minho,” Hoseok says, sounding aggrieved. “He spends way too much time focusing on where I go and what I do. I bet he’ll be relieved to cut the string.”

I glance at Jin. “Do you have someone picked out?” I’m a little nervous to learn about his life. Is there someone he’s hiding from? Is that how he ended up on the streets? Someone who threatens him? There’s darkness there. A history filled with shadows and violence.

“Yes,” Jin says, sounding more sad than angry. “I picked someone.” He doesn’t seem inclined to say more.

“Okay,” Hoseok says. “Hold the person in your mind. Think positive thoughts for them. You wish them well, away from you. Blowing in the wind.”

Hoseok touches the bundle of weed to the flame, catching the end on fire. Then he blows it out, its embers still glowing like the end of the joint. Then he waves it around my head and down my body.

“Over your eyes,” he says, as if remembering. “Your third eye. And maybe your chakras. I don’t really remember, but I’ll just do all of you to be sure.”

I cough at the thick swell of smoke. “I’m pretty sure all this is doing is getting me really high.”

Hoseok repeats the same motions over Jin. “If you can’t get rid of the bastards, being really high is the next best thing.”

Hoseok waves the bundle over himself and then tosses it into the fire. The sweet scent curls around us, sharp and strong. Smoke stings my eyes, and I blink against tears.

“Now our spirits are cleansed and free. Do you feel better?”

“I might be floating,” I say, squinting against the curls of smoke.

“This is some good shit,” Jin says, sounding impressed.

“You know what else?” I lie down on the cooler’s plastic bottom, looking up at the smoky sky. “You’re right. Min Yoongi is a bad man. A very, very bad man. Bastard indeed. And I never want to see him again. Ever.”

“Um, Jimin?” Hoseok’s voice sounds wobbly, like he’s holding back a laugh. A low growling sound comes from Jin’s direction. And a face appears amid the swirling smoke. Dark bronze eyes dancing with firelight.

Min Yoongi.

!~~~~~!!!!!~~~~~!