sᴄᴀɴᴅᴀʟ | ᴍ.ʏɢ + ᴘ.ᴊᴍ

Ⅷ

I kept my head buried in my arms as I rested against the desk of my studio—sulking about my probable demise.

There was a knock on the door, again.

It had been the same knocking every half hour, for the past six. I knew exactly who it was too.

I lifted my eyes to peek at the camera monitor—Jimin standing outside the door.

"Yoongi-Hyung!" He called out, "I know you're in there, please let me in!"

God. This was getting ridiculous.

'You do realize you ruined our careers right?'

It hadn't even been a full 24 hours since the interviews and we were already plastered all over Korea.

I stood up, going to the door as I opened it.

There stood Park Jimin, staring up at me with his large eyes. "Hi Yoongi-Hyu-"

"Go away." I said bluntly, before closing the door in his face.

The one time I tried to be nice—let someone in; I ended up in a dating scandal with them.

No. I refused.

I pulled out my phone and went onto Twitter.

Delete Tweet?

'Done.'

I placed the device down before pulling on my headphones; the continuous sound of Jimin's knocking getting drowned out as I started mixing.

I worked for a few hours before stretching in the chair, letting out a soft yawn.

I could use a shower.

I stood up, leaving everything as it was before heading to the door. As I exited the studio I saw a familiar boy curled up against the wall.

He looked the same as he was the last time he'd been there; after his fight with the other members.

About me.

He looked up at me, immediately beaming hopefully.

I gave him a cold glare and walked right past him.

I entered my apartment and grabbed a new set of clothing; heading into the bathroom.

I showered and changed, honestly feeling much better afterward before I greeted Holly.

For the first time in a while, Jimin didn't cross my mind.

'No more Mr. Nice Guy'

As it always should've been.

I had some of the cake, eating off the side with a fork before leaving the apartment.

Back to the studio.

As I entered the room I let out a huff of frustration.

"Get out."

"Make me." Jimin challenged, sitting in my chair.

He crossed his arms.

"Jimin, I'm telling you to leave." I was not about to put up with this bullshit.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry-"

"You're sorry?" I asked, closing the door now. "You're sorry for ruining our careers just because you couldn't keep your expressions in check for one interview?"

He was quiet now.

"You're always so predictable, it's like you act like a child on purpose." I was in a fit of frustration and stress—taking it out on the boy due to the heat of the moment. "You've literally fucked us all of us over, so thanks for that—really, the one thing you could've avoided; the hardest mistake to make, you made."

Jimin furrowed his brows in a frown as he stood, placing his hands on his hips. "You're seriously going to play innocent? Did you forget how you answered the questions?"

"At least I answered them, you looked like a fucking idiot-"

I was cut off by the loud slap that omitted in the room.

I felt his warm hand make contact with my cheek.

He'd slapped me.

I was shocked.

"Y-Yoongi-Hyung I-" He stuttered—both of us in shock from what had occurred. "I'm sorry-"

I looked down to my feet—attempting to suppress my rage. "What were you thinking about that made you like that, anyway?"

I could see in my peripherals that he was fidgeting.

God, hurry up.

"Hello?" I asked, annoyed.

"I was thinking about you-"

"No shit, Sherlock." I replied, letting the remark slip out. "Why the fuck did you look like that-"

"Because I like you, okay?!" He yelled, balling up his hands into gentle fists as his cheeks began to turn pink.

I'd never heard him yell before.

I lifted my head, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Every lyric, every melody, I wrote them because of you." He muttered after a moment. "For you, but you were too cold to see it."

It was true.

I had been completely oblivious.

Though, it didn't make sense.

He hadn't given away any sort of hints that he found me attractive—nothing.

"C-Can you say something?" He asked, finding the sitting air uncomfortable.

'Did you really feel that way?'

"You fucked us over."

He looked away as he nodded. "I-I know, and I'm really sorry Yoongi-Hyung." He said, sadness lacing his voice.

'Don't give in.'

'Don't give in.'

I watched his side profile as he kept his gaze off to the left; hair fluttering around his face.

It was so horribly addictive to me.

"Fuck."

"Huh-"

I cut him off, grabbing his face in my hands as I smashed my lips against his; the things he did to me.

He gripped my shirt in his hands, keeping me close as I pushed him back against the desk.

What became a hot makeout session soon turned to panting and touching—though, nothing quite below the belt as we built the tension.

"You're such a fucking idiot." I breathed, our foreheads touching as I looked into his eyes. "I have every reason to despise you, but I can't."

He suddenly squeezed his eyes closed as he gulped. "C-Can you excuse me for a minute?"

"No, we're talking-"

"Please, Yoongi-Hyung?" He asked, seemingly in a rush as he shifted stiffly.

"Why? What's the problem?" I asked, placing both my hands on either side of him.

Nowhere to run; baby.

He whined a little, "I-I have a little problem."

He then looked down, I followed his line of sight.

"Oh."

The boy had a noticeable bulge in his pants.

'Oh how the tables have turned.' I thought, a sick and twisted grin pulling the sides of my lips.

Suddenly, I heard a knock at the studio door.

I shifted Jimin to look at the monitor—beginning to groan internally as I noticed the youngest member of BTS at my door, right at that exact moment.

'I can never have nice things.'

———
end.