MRS. JEON {BTS Fanfic}

T W E N T Y F O U R

WARNING: This chapter gets kind of gory and graphic

Yoongi's POV

~Flashback~

"It's fine," my cousin's sobbing body trembles against mine as I run my shaking fingers through his hair, my eyes shifting wildly through the room. We're huddled together on the floor, only inches away from the boy's father who is lying lifelessly on the floor. My knees are already soaked in his blood. "It's okay. We just need to," my throat constricts in on itself as I gulp down the hot saliva collecting in my mouth, "call the police and," oh my god, I'm going to throw up, "clean up a little bit."

He slowly pulls away from my embrace and turns his head back around to look at his father, his whole body still shaking from shock. "We need an ambulance," he mumbles, starting to crawl closer to him.

"What?" I ask even though I understand all too well what he's probably thinking.

"He just needs m-medical attention, right?" He wipes some blood from his father's temple, revealing the bullet wound. He immediately stiffens. "H-he--" He looks up at me, eyes full of realization and terror. "H-he just...We need to--we--it's not--he's--"

I reach forward and pull him back into my chest. No sixteen-year-old should have to go through this kind of pain at this young age. I can't imagine what kind of pain his father was in that he decided suicide was the way to go. This little boy has no one. No one but me. And I'm just as fucked up as he is.

~ ~ ~

I grab the Little Debby's cosmic brownies off the counter and walk into the living room where he's sitting, earbuds stuffed in his ears and eyes glued to his phone.

I know if I talk he won't hear me, so I set one of the brownies in his lap then sit down on the other side of the couch and start opening mine.

"Happy birthday to me," I mumble. The twenty-third birthday doesn't matter anyway. It's just another year.

It only took a couple of minutes to finish the brownie and then there was no point in sitting on the couch in silence, waiting for the possibility of him saying something to fill the silence. It would never happen. So, I get up and head back into my room. 

I've never been good with kids. He's seventeen now, so I guess that means he's a teenager, almost an adult, but does that really matter. He's still a kid and I have no clue how to deal with him. I'm surprised he hasn't been taken from my guardianship at this point. I'm not the most sensitive or sympathetic person in the world. In fact, I pride myself on the fact that I was so good at staying out of drama and never had to deal with that kind of stuff. That's probably why I'm shit at it now. I don't even let myself dwell on problematic things for too long.

But this kid has gone through so much. I don't know how he's kept it together for as long as he has. If I were in his situation...

Maybe it's best if I don't finish that thought.

I mean, damn. Talk about insensitive.

Maybe I should have a talk with him. Try to fully understand what he's feeling. 

The walk to the living room felt weird. Like there was a different feeling in the house; a different aura, if you will. Something had changed within the last few minutes. 

He's not in the living room. I head to his room. Where else would he be? He basically lives in his room and if he's not in there, he's in the living room watching tv in silence.

His door is shut. I try to open it and the door is blocked from the other side. There's no lock on the door. He's gotten creative before in attempts of keeping me out. It's worked, to say the least. I don't try to come into his room often. But now, there's something weird.