Chapter Text
Kim Namjoon stands on the tiny balcony of his apartment on the 46th floor.
It’s not peaceful up here. The air traffic is worse than the ground traffic these days. A drone hovers nearby - watching Namjoon. Surveying. Recording.
“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters. He takes a drag of his cigarette. The smoke he breathes out disappears into the fog. The drone moves on. Nothing interesting is happening here. He’s just another lonely man smoking on his balcony.
Even at this late hour, the city is awake. It’s loud, horribly loud. It’s so unnaturally bright it turns Namjoon’s stomach. How is anyone supposed to maintain a circadian rhythm in these conditions? The insomnia rate is at an all-time-high. The plants that need darkness to thrive are going to go extinct at this rate. Every living thing on Earth is getting choked by the air pollution and poisoned by the chemicals, radiation, and god knows what else. Most people don’t go out during the day now, it’s so hot.
Namjoon knows there are wonderful places on the planet that have tried their best to combat climate change and hyper-capitalism - but there’s strict laws against moving there. They most certainly don’t want the citizens of Azora. Besides, who will look after this shit hole if Namjoon leaves? He looks down at the street below. Not these brainless zombies anyway. The street is teaming with people looking for some late-night thrills. It’s proof of the worst epidemic in the world. Loneliness.
Try as they might, humans cannot overcome the inherent need for contact with one another. It’s resulted in some pretty weird creations: Sex robots, wife robots, husband robots, boyfriend robots, dog robots… You can pay people to talk to you, to hug you, to have sex with you (of course), and the weirdest one of all…
Namjoon chuckles as he stares down over his balcony. He can’t see the actual shop at this angle, but he can see the ludicrous neon pink light that spills out onto the street. He knows they’re playing sugary sweet music with a heavy bass unnecessarily loud. He knows pretty people of all genders are on display behind the glass, dancing and having pillow fights. He knows the cute one with the pink hair will smile at him when he walks past early tomorrow morning. Namjoon knows he’s going to ignore him. He’s still going to look though.
It’s ridiculous and insane and quite frankly, impossible, but the neon pink store sells the one thing that can’t be bought.
Love.
:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:
It starts pissing rain as soon as he’s meant to leave, of course. At one o’clock in the morning, Namjoon’s day begins. He curses and groans as he stumbles over his balcony railing and into Hoseok’s aircraft.
“Go easy, you big oaf. You’ll bring us down,” He shouts as Namjoon sinks into the last available seat. He ignores Hoseok and nods at Jin and Yoongi, who got picked up first.
“Sleep well?” Jin smirks. He’s always got a teasing little smile on his face, that guy - Namjoon never has a clue why.
“I guess,” he mumbles. “Hey, we’re going to McDonalds, right?” he shouts at Hoseok who is driving in the front.
“Of course! Can’t save the world on an empty stomach now can we?” The optimistic guy laughs.
Namjoon smiles to himself and relaxes back into his seat. He looks out of the rain-splattered window as the aircraft descends. You know, with the rain blurring the neon lights like this, the city looks kind of beautiful.
“This absolute buffoon..,” Yoongi mutters, his feline-like eyes staring daggers at Namjoon.
“Leave him alone,” Jin giggles. “He just really loves his McDonalds, right Joonie?”
Again with the teasing… Namjoon simply cannot understand it. “Mmh,” he agrees easily, too tired to have an argument.
Hoseok smoothly lands on the landing pad of the parking lot. Once they’ve exited the vehicle, it shoots down into the abyss to be stored for the day. The four men themselves shoot down the lift and exit onto the bustling street Namjoon stares down at every night. There are people drinking in the bars, and the lights are on in every shop. Everything is open, including the neon pink store that the four men approach now.
They look intimidating, standing side by side in their thick gear. It’s clear that they’ve got guns under their jackets. The drunk people, prostitutes and homeless people dive out of their way, fearful that they are police or members of the army. Up above, people wait on platforms for the airbus to come. They peer down at the four men in interest. A group of college students coming up out of the underground subway station throw eyes at them. A girl with long acid-yellow hair tries to catch Namjoon’s eye, but he doesn’t notice her at all. The pink neon lights are getting closer.
The truth of the matter is that the four men work so many different jobs, they have to be dressed for any situation. Whether they’re planting trees or taking down a crime lord, it’s just easier to wear dark colours and thick material. And if that makes them look fucking terrifying? So be it.
Time slows down as they pass the store.
In bright neon pink letters above the door are the words Love on the Cheap. It’s horribly cringy, to the point that it actually works quite well. A customer leaves the shop, bringing with him the sound of bubblegum R&B – it’s catchy, upbeat, and easy to listen to, but it has an unmistakable sensual vibe. The scent of roses rushes out of the store and onto the street before the door swings shut. The interior is decorated with flowers, fairy lights, more neon signs and couches with fluffy pillows. There’s a reception desk in the back, and stairs that lead to god-knows-where. Namjoon supposes that the models are like decorations too. They’re pretty and soft and too good to be true, dressed all in pastels with blinding smiles on their faces. They look like angels - not a part of this toxic, desolate landscape. Namjoon was once convinced they were robots, before he started to notice very specific things.
Their hair grows, their lips are sometimes chapped, their tongues are flexible and wet, they cough and sneeze loudly, they sometimes miss a patch when they shave their legs, they sometimes get sunburnt, some of them have eczema, the cute one with pink hair even had visible razor burn on his jaw one day.
These are distinctly human features. Some of the best robot designs have been purposefully made to be…a bit gross. It’s realistic, after all. Try as they might, no robot is as flawed as a real human being. Therefore, no robot can replace one.
Namjoon has noticed all these tiny details over the past two years. He and his friends always walk past to get to the food zone of their area of the city. Isn’t it funny? You have to walk past the love shop every time you want to get food. Who’s going to stop for love when they're hungry? Namjoon’s surprised Love on the Cheap gets any business at all.
The cute one with the pink hair appeared in the shop window for the first time five months ago. Since day one, the boy has paid Namjoon extra special attention.
At least he hopes it’s extra special. What if the boy does this for everyone that walks past? He’d never tell a soul about these worries, but they plague his mind.
Today is like any other. Namjoon looks through the window as he walks past. The models giggle and smile and sparkle as they weakly pillow-fight. When his gaze slides over to the pink-haired boy, he finds that he’s already looking. The boy holds his fluffy white pillow in his small dainty hands. His plush pink lips transform into a sweet, dazzling smile.
This is the point where Namjoon is supposed to avert his eyes and fight down a blush. He’s supposed to pick up the pace and shut down any unwanted thoughts. He’s supposed to forget about the pretty boy for the rest of the day.
Instead, Namjoon holds the boy’s gaze for once. Just to see what happens. The boy doesn’t seem phased by it. He winks before he tears his eyes away to resume his pillow fight. To anyone else, it would have looked like an innocent flirty wink. Perhaps a little teasing, perhaps a little not innocent.
But Namjoon knows better.
It was a message that read; I see you. I know you..
Kim Namjoon has never been so terrified in his life.
:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:
Every week, Namjoon puts a little money aside. He likes to think he’s saving for a house out in the countryside where the pollution isn’t so bad, but he knows he realistically will never be able to afford that. Only the filthy rich can have clean air and nature.
After one whole week of getting winks from the pink-haired boy, Namjoon decides enough is enough. Life is boring, repetitive and although he loves his friends, it’s lonely. He doesn’t speak to them about his feelings…he doesn’t share his innermost thoughts…and he most certainly does not receive physical affection from them. It’s time to use his hard earned cash to buy the one thing he desperately needs.
Kim Namjoon, age twenty-eight, Azora native, is going to buy himself some love - and it can’t be from just anyone. There is only one person he wants it from.
His heart pounds as he approaches the neon pink store.
The sun has finally gone down, which means he and everyone else in Azora are out. ‘Love on the Cheap’ is the same as it’s always been, with its warm glow and bass-heavy music, but it’s not the normal time Namjoon goes out. Will the boy even be there? He has half a mind to turn back.
“Fuck,” he mutters. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants. Has the store always been this close to his building? He’s not ready, but the door is right in front of him now. Realistically, he knows he could easily turn back and forget about this insane, desperate idea - but he is desperate. He can’t spend the rest of his life working, sleeping, smoking on his balcony, and going to McDonalds with his colleagues. He can’t ignore the beautiful man in the window anymore - his curiosity is killing him. His intuition tells him that if he doesn’t do this now, he never will.
With shaking hands, he clutches the handle. Before he opens the door, he glances through the window. The boy isn’t there, and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or not. He enters the store just as the song changes to something slower and in a minor key. Is it a bad omen? He cannot dwell on it any longer as he takes in the store. It’s loud in here, it smells stronger - like baby powder, perfume and roses - and it’s even pinker than he expected. It’s total, utter sensory overload.
He ignores the models and heads straight for the pink reception desk at the back of the room. The models continue to do their thing - some swaying to the music, some sitting on the couches, and some posing in the window. Namjoon can feel their eyes on him, however. The pink-haired boy is nowhere to be found.
“Hi, welcome to ‘Love on the Cheap’. How can I help you?” The woman at the reception desk gives him a huge smile. She’s wearing a low cut blouse, glasses and her hair is in a huge bun. It’s like a mockery of an old-fashioned receptionist, Namjoon notes.
“I…” He quickly realizes he has no idea what to say, but the woman must be used to this. Her smile gets even bigger.
“Would you like to avail of our service? We have many options for you, sir, if you’d like to look at our packages.” She slides a pamphlet over to Namjoon. “All you have to do is choose a package, and then choose one of our lovers. We’ll introduce you to them all. We have many choices for you sir!”
Overwhelmed, Namjoon takes the pamphlet and tries to gather his thoughts. The music is so damn loud…
“I don’t want to meet the models - I mean lovers,” he says dumbly.
The receptionist’s smile falters. “Oh, that’s okay. We can choose one for you, if you like?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant, sorry.” He swallows hard. “Can - can I meet the pink-haired guy, please?”
The receptionist slightly raises her eyebrows before giving him a knowing smile. “Ah, you must mean Cupid… He’s real popular around here,” she giggles. “Which is why he’s one of our more expensive lovers,” she winks. “What’s your budget?”
Namjoon doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll pay anything.”
The receptionist throws her head back and laughs. “That’s what they all say - until they see the price.” When she finally does name Cupid’s price, Namjoon is surprised by how low it actually is. He expected higher. The boy is worth higher.
The receptionist is shocked when he easily agrees to pay for Cupid and one of the more pricey package deals. His pay is alright, and he’s saved quite a lot over the years. It’s only later that he realizes most of the people looking for love on the cheap are lowlifes with no money. The store's name is perhaps a bit misleading, in that respect. More well-off people probably don’t come here. They buy sex-robots like normal people, Namjoon notes bitterly.
As it turns out, the ‘lovers’ all live downstairs, underground the store. He’s told to wait on a plush couch while she fetches Cupid from his room. He feels relieved that the boy is in fact here, but he’s also fucking terrified. He can’t believe he just bought someone because he…what? Got a vibe from him? Thought he received some kind of secret message from him?
What the hell is he doing?
All of Namjoon’s intrusive thoughts melt away as the boy comes up the stairs. Cupid looks a little disheveled, his pink hair fluffy and sticking up in spots. He looks quite sleepy, as if he’s just woken up from a nap. He’s dressed surprisingly well, in a white halter neck top and ultra-ripped light blue baggy jeans. There’s definitely more skin than denim. Namjoon stands up abruptly, pushing the whole couch back and causing a jarring scraping noise. As soon as Cupid spots him, the boy’s face breaks out into a delighted smile. Namjoon is helpless but to smile back like a fool.
Cupid is a vision under the neon lights.
Namjoon thinks maybe love can be bought.
:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:
Cupid ogles Namjoon with wide curious eyes. “Hi,” he finally breathes after a long silence.
“Hi,” Namjoon smiles. “I’m Namjoon.” He feels giddy. The power this pretty pink angel has over him already is terrifying.
“You want to talk upstairs?” Cupid nods towards the narrow pink staircase. “It’s quieter…”
“Sure, I’d love to.” God, he sounds too eager, doesn’t he? Namjoon follows the boy up the stairs and into what looks like a hotel room. There’s a bed, a couch, a bathroom, and a whole load of neon lights. Many of them are orange this time, which Namjoon finds quite relieving.
“You must be sick of the colour pink,” he blurts out as he closes the door behind him.
Cupid bursts out laughing as he plops into the rose pink sofa. His laugh is cute and tinkly like a fairy - because of course it is. “I don’t mind it, actually. Hence the hair,” he smiles and points to his head.
Slowly, Namjoon lowers himself onto the couch beside Cupid, leaving a respectable distance between them. The walls are almost entirely glass, providing them with a spectacular view, but also no privacy. Nervously, he eyes the bed.
“Just to be sure…this isn’t a prostitution service disguised as a…as a…” Before he can finish, Cupid’s eyes widen and he splutters in shock.
“No! No! It isn’t! It really isn’t! The - the bed is just there for decoration or - or for couples who’ve been together for a long time,” Cupid explains anxiously, his cheeks flushing.
“Okay, I understand, I’m sorry,” Namjoon pacifies him. “I was just making sure.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. The bed is rather suggestive. And he knows sex is included in his package, however uncomfortable that makes him.
Cupid deflates and breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s alright.” He nibbles his plump lower lip and looks around the room awkwardly with wide puppy eyes. He looks almost…nervous? The boy seems younger to Namjoon now that he’s seen him up close. Cupid is perhaps a lot more innocent than he thought.
“How old are you?” He can’t resist asking.
“I’m twenty-four.”
“Oh, good, okay, I worried you were younger,” Namjoon admits, his relief evident.
“I do have a baby-face,” Cupid admits, smiling down at his hands.
“And where are you from?” Now that he’s gotten the boy alone, he can finally ask his burning questions and hopefully satisfy his curiosity.
“I’m from the south,” Cupid tells him proudly. “I moved here ten months ago.”
Ah, the south. Many young people move to Azora from the south in search of a better life. Namjoon is certain that for the vast majority of people, this city drastically lowers your standard of living instead.
“I noticed you only showed up in the window five months ago - oh, sorry if that’s creepy,” Namjoon blushes.
“Oh,” Cupid laughs. “It’s fine, I watched you too.”
Namjoon inhales an unsteady breath. So it’s confirmed - Cupid noticed him the same way Namjoon noticed him. There’s plenty of time to unpack that later.
“So what did you do before you became a…lover?” He asks awkwardly.
“I - um - I was a cleaner for a while,” Cupid blushes. “But I didn’t like it much.”
“Wow, don’t they have robots for that?” Namjoon genuinely wonders.
“You’d think so, right?” Cupid giggles. Namjoon laughs too. He feels so light when Cupid laughs, it’s ridiculous.
“Ah, you’re far too dainty and cute to be a cleaner,” Namjoon admits.
Cupid blushes and looks down. He fiddles with his rings. “That’s what my boss thought too.”
There’s a beat of silence before Cupid looks up at Namjoon with wide eyes. His lips drop open in shock. “I - I didn’t mean to say that,” he squeaks.
“It’s okay.” Namjoon shuffles a tiny bit closer to the panicking boy. “Your - your boss was a bit…?”
“Cruel,” Cupid mumbles. “He relocated me from the hotel to a brothel where - where the customers kept mistaking me for a prostitute.” Cupid spoke quickly and quietly, the words slipping out uncontrollably. He kept his eyes down. “They kept trying to buy me and wouldn’t believe that I was a cleaner.” His eyes shoot up to stare at Namjoon. “I never accepted their offers, I swear.”
Gently, Namjoon takes Cupid’s hands in his. “I believe you. Regardless, I don’t care about your history. But thank you for telling me,” he nods. His heart breaks for the beautiful boy. This is exactly why the bed made Namjoon nervous. Prostitution is rampant in Azora, thanks to the immense number of unemployed and poverty stricken people. That's the problem with robots - they take all the jobs.
Cupid smiles at him so prettily it makes Namjoon’s stomach explode with flutters.
“So - so how does this work? What do you, uh, usually do with customers?” he asks clumsily.
Cupid bites his lip, hesitant to speak, but Namjoon waits patiently. Finally, he speaks up. “Well, they take me on exactly five dates before taking me back here and having their way with me.” He pauses for a moment. “It's written in my contract that you can have sex with me after the fifth date,” he says dejectedly. “And they always read the fine print up to the that point but nothing after it, which is why I can drop the customers quickly after the fifth date. They get too greedy and want sex all the time, which is against the rules. I can then apply for my case to be investigated and the matron is always really good about it,” he reassures Namjoon, his eyes wide. “She always listens to me and lets me cancel my contracts.”
“Fucking hell,” Namjoon cannot help but blurt. “You poor thing. Do these people even know what they’re buying?” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “This is supposed to be about fucking love not sex. Why don’t they just hire a prostitute?”
“They prefer us because we’re cleaner.” His shoulders slump.
“God damn,” Namjoon curses. As if his perception of humanity could get any worse. He leans down and catches Cupid’s eyes. “I promise you, I’m just a lonely mother fucker. That’s why I’m here.”
Cupid throws his head back and laughs. He falls heavily into Namjoon’s shoulder, surprising him. “I knew you’d be different,” he sighs.
“I hope you know I’m going to romance the shit out of you.”
Cupid nearly falls off the sofa he laughs so hard. Namjoon is endeared.