scarlet (BTS version)

departure

"Eomma, there is a problem." 

"Would shooting you solve this problem? No? Then get out." 

"Appaaaaaa!" The doe eyed boy whined, shoving the piece of paper on his father's face. The elder man chuckled, swiping away the vellum from his view.

"C'mon honey, you should consider his worries." His wife just slumped her shoulders and lazily dragged herself towards the two males of her family.

"What's it? Worrying over that again?" She Crossed her hands over her chest. Her hard green orbs walloping a soft gaze at the sight of genuine concern smitten over her son's face.

She pursued her lips, gliding soft fingers across his scalp. "You don't have to. It's our matter." With a sigh, the paper was snatched from his hand, crumbled and thrown towards the darkest corner of their house. 

His puzzled eyes dangled everywhere before going back to his lap. The air got overlapped by an anxious silence. All the three months went lip tied, the lively living room gradually turned sonorous with every minute eco audible except their voices.

This was another summer Tuesday in Park residence and it definitely wasn't going the way it used to. The usual cheerful mornings overwhelmed with happy squeals and laughter had turned into dead silences at every next word. 

Most of the time the lovely doe eyed son was the centroid of chaos. Every morning his small legs would bounce down the stairs and he would hop in the kitchen with a gloomy smile on his heart shaped lips. Greeting his mother with a morning wish and a bow before invading her territory to try out new experiments with food were his daily chores. His father- the victim of experiments- was compelled to furl out compliments by the weak sensation of lavishness on his tongue. 

But that Tuesday was different. It hadn't even been a week since they found that acceptance letter in their mailbox and Jimin's  personality had taken a 180° change. 

"I'm afraid I'll stand out like a sore thumb there." He muttered with his eyes glued on his lap. "That catalog said that it's a rich school. I saw that myself in those pictures. There would be rich snobby kids. What if I mess up? I'm not ready for this. Why can't I continue schooling here?" 

He was sure that his father might have rubbed his temples in frustration, that his mother might've tried to blink away the roll of tears which cascaded her eyes. No matter how much they tried to hide, there was no way to completely block out their feelings in front of him. 

"That catalog is bulshit, Jiminie. Don't overwork yourself. I've checked all the facilities and it says that the school has zero bullying record." 

Of Course, no one will lazily send their kid anywhere  without proper inspection. In Mr. Park's case that inspection was a well prepared bouquet of finding the institution's origin to the birthday of its current principal along with the total tax paid and hacking into the school's official website. Top to bottom, right to left: nothing could escape from his reach, especially when it came to his son.

"We just want the best for you." Jimin's  small fists were unfurled by Mrs. Park's soft touch. "Don't you trust us?" 

The younger couldn't do anything but swallow the lump of uneasiness in his throat, slowly bobbing his head in a way which could neither  be described as approving nor disagreement.

"Yes, I do."

______________________

"I shouldn't have trusted them." His voice coiled a unique slurr of uncertainty as he cleaned the milk smitten floor with his friend's shirt.