" I really think you should give Hobi a chance!" Jimin slurs, completely oblivious to how much I am struggling just to haul his heavy self home.

"Who's Hobi? I thought you were dead set on getting me to date that Hoseok guy?" I ask, more for the sake of keeping him awake than anything else.

"Same guy!" He hiccups loudly, pumping his fist into the air excitedly. "It's his new nickname, I thought it up myself!"

I groan, his movements causing his weight to increase.

"Has anyone ever told you how heavy you are?" I wheeze, doing my best not to bow beneath his added weight.

My knees shake for a split moment, threatening to buckle against the abuse I am putting my body through.

"Don't look at me like that!" I shout. I may not be able to see his face, but I know he's giving me a funky glare. "You are really heavy!"

By this point, I can no longer feel my fingers. They've gone numb, tight and rigid because of the firm grip I have kept on him. I've given my best, but I don't think we're going to make it to the apartment.

The apartment that Jimin and I share, along with a few other roommates, is still easily six blocks away, and I don't even want to try to shove Jimin in and out of a taxi. Even if I did it is simply way out of budget bounds for the month. Jin would likely flay Jimin and I both alive and I shudder at the thought. The idea brings back some small measure of desperation, and I scurry forth with maximum effort.

I smack into someone's shoulder blindly, throwing myself and Jimin off balance. I struggle, but ultimately manage to get a firm grip on Jimin once more. Jimin continues to babble unintelligibly in the background, head lolling in an undeniably concerning manner as I shift his weight about.

The neon signs cast their color-kissed glow upon the very air around us, and I become as red as any of the vibrantly rouged light around when I realize just who it is that I've managed to bump into.

"Hey! You look like you could use some help!" Hoseok exclaims merrily, chest heaving up and down as if he'd run to get here.

For a moment, I consider it. Accepting his help would definitely get me home faster, and with a considerably less amount of stress on my already overly taxed body.

But, knowing Park Jimin, this is probably exactly what he hoped for. Which, honestly, may be why he's cackling like a madman and swaying like a blade of grass in the wind.

Any moment now, this asshole is going to blow chunks all over the place and I'm not staying to watch that. But I also refuse to give Jimin his way, on sheer principle if for no other reason.

"Thanks, " I reply frankly, "but no thanks."

The rest of the distance between us and our apartment closes mercifully quickly. I would imagine that a great deal of that has to do with my succinctly put reminder of Jin's wrath.

"Jiminie, " I'd groaned. "You know that Seokjin is going to skin us alive, right? He's going to have Namjoon turn us into one of those hats. You know, the kind his mother wore to his father's funeral? Except, we'll never become a beautiful hat, because Namjoon can't make hats..."

We'd both shuddered then, equally mortified equally by the idea of such an existence, and being subjected to Namjoon's destructive tendencies. But afterward we'd sure scurried away fast.

But now, as we approach the front door, my body groans in protest. And as I shove the door open, simultaneously keeping both mine and Jimin's balance while doing so, I curse at how normal such an occurrence is these days. Seems like every other week I'm dragging a drunk Jimin back home after the end of a long, long day.

"Jeonguk!" I hollar, desperately in need of assistance.

Out of all the men living here, Jeonguk is the strongest. He's actually freakishly strong, and he's also the youngest of us all. He's a punk, but a lovable one.

Said punk turns around, peering at us from the couch.

The living room is an eclectic collection of all our varied tastes. In the corner we have an old china cabinet filled with Jin's grandmother's plates. I have never met another man who values his grandmother's things as much as Seokjin does, it's pretty basic law around here. Don't touch the plates.

Even Jeonguk and Jimin, mischievous though they may be, don't dare touch the plates. And they were the primary instigators of the prank that lost Yoongi his eyebrows. Forevermore the image of Yoongi, sans eyebrows, with his brows furrowed pointlessly at the mirror is one I can't forget. I'd always considered Yoongi to be a rather attractive fellow. But some things are just not meant to be seen.

Like the time I walked in on our resident brooder. I was eager to deliver Jin's announcement to the effect of dinner being ready, and didn't stop to think about something as trivial as knocking.

Except it's not trivial, and I really wish I had. I wasn't able to look him in the eyes for months, honestly. It was almost weird to think of Yoongi, sitting alone in his room, beating his meat. I mean, the guy's always so quiet. He rarely ever talks. To be honest I'm not sure if any of us knows what he actually does. Though his rent is always paid, he's gone pretty much all day and only comes home late at night, if at all.

Sometimes he comes home with strange bruises too, and we all notice, but so far no one has been brave enough to ask.

But he's a good person. He often leaves small notes, to remind us all to breathe, yet he never signs his name. Everyone knows his handwriting, but he's always adamantly denied everything.

For a while, Jimin had an eating disorder. He'd convinced himself that he was fat, and stopped taking care of himself the way he should have. I think a lot of it had to do with the trauma left behind by Roslyn, the ex, and her actions.

We all tried in vain to get him to eat properly, but Yoongi's notes for Jimin during that time, combined with the random snacks left alongside them, brightened Jimin's life enough to guide him back to us. To this day, he still hasn't let anyone read them.

Yoongi is also the one who ends up patching up all the things that Namjoon inevitably breaks. Which is absolutely more than is normal if I'm to be sincere.

"What's up?" Jeonguk quips, jumping over the couch with ease.

The grey leather abomination creaks under the sudden increase of weight, but remains standing nonetheless.

"Don't let Jin catch you doing that, " I shudder.

Yoongi's neon signs clash with Jeonguk's gaming posters in the background as he flicks his hair mindlessly.

"Meh, " he says. "Jin can bite me."

I fix him with a pointed glare and he relents, palms extended outward.

"Okay!" He grouses. "Point made! Now what did you need?"

I clear my throat, still dressing him down with my eyes. "Can you get Jimin to his bedroom, " I wheeze, suddenly undignified and still winded by the walk here. "I had to haul his drunk ass all the way here."

"Maybe I don't have to be worried about Jin at all!" Jeonguk exclaims gleefully, bounding down the hallway already with Jimin easily in hand.