YoU ArE OnLy MiNe || YOONMIN~FF ?

? Part ~ 5 ?

The tight jeans clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing the sculpted curves of his form. His sheer black shirt shimmered under the lights, the faintest glimpse of his toned torso teasing beneath the fabric. He knew what he was doing. He knew the effect he had. And he wielded it like a weapon.

The club pulsed with energy, the low hum of whispered admiration and held breaths filling the air. Some watched in awe, others in yearning, their gazes locked onto him as if he were the only thing that existed in the world at that moment.

But to Jimin, this was just another night.

He danced not for them, not for their admiration or their longing stares, but for himself—for survival. His body was his shield, his allure a carefully honed skill. He was untouchable, a mirage that could be seen, desired, but never truly reached.

As the music built to its peak, his movements intensified, his body rolling, twisting, his feet gliding effortlessly across the stage. Sweat glistened on his skin, catching the light like scattered diamonds, and when the final note rang out, he stilled—breathless, radiant, victorious.

A roar of applause erupted around him, cheers and whistles blending into the pounding bass of the next song. He took a bow, his chest rising and falling rapidly before he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind a stage that suddenly felt empty without him.

The changing room was quieter, the scent of sweat and lingering cologne thick in the air. Jimin sank onto the chair, exhaling deeply, letting his muscles relax for the first time that night.

Five minutes. That was all he had before the next part of his shift.

With practiced efficiency, he peeled off his performance attire, replacing it with a simple pair of worn jeans and a faded T-shirt. His fingers were carded through his damp brown locks, smoothing them down as he caught his own gaze in the mirror. The reflection staring back at him was both familiar and foreign—a performer, a server, a survivor.

The applause from earlier still echoed in his ears as he stepped back into the bustling world of the club, this time as just another worker.

The thumping bass, the flashing lights, the scent of liquor and perfume—all of it engulfed him once more. With a practiced smile, he slid behind the bar, seamlessly shifting into his role as a waiter.

Gone was the Jimin who commanded the stage, replaced by the one who carried trays, took orders, and blended into the background.

He didn't mind. He couldn't afford to.

Because no matter how bright the stage lights were, at the end of the night, Jimin always returned to the shadows.

Jimin moved through the crowd with ease, balancing a tray of drinks as he weaved between tables. The club was alive—music thumping in sync with the pulse of the night, neon lights flashing against the dim haze of cigarette smoke and perfume.

"Here’s your drink, sir," Jimin said with a polite but distant smile, setting a glass of whiskey on the table. The man barely acknowledged him, eyes still fixed on the stage where another dancer had taken his place.

Jimin was used to it.

He was used to the attention shifting the moment he stepped offstage. That was how this world worked—fleeting glances, temporary fascination, and then, nothing.

With a sigh, he returned to the bar counter, leaning against it for a brief moment of reprieve. His shift wasn’t over yet, but exhaustion was already creeping into his bones. He still had to work until the club closed.

"Jimin-ah, table five wants a refill," one of his coworkers called out.

Jimin nodded, grabbing the bottle and heading back toward the table. As he walked, a group of men at a nearby booth laughed loudly, their voices slurred from alcohol.

"Hey, pretty boy!" one of them called, smirking.

Jimin ignored it.

"Come on, don’t be shy," another one jeered. "Dance for us here, huh?"

Jimin clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the bottle in his hand. He had learned long ago not to react. The moment he showed discomfort, it would only encourage them more.

Keeping his expression neutral, he walked past them without a word, setting the bottle down at table five before quickly retreating to the safety of the bar counter.

"Assholes," he muttered under his breath, exhaling sharply.

This job wasn’t easy. It never was.

But he didn’t have a choice.

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Tae you're incredibly fabulous 💋💋❤

Hey, army 💜 how are you all doing?
Please ignore all the grammatical mistakes 🙏 🙂