Seven | BTS ✓

3

Jimin throws another punch, and the punching bag rips open, sending a stream of sand to the floor.

"These aren't cheap, you know," his trainer grumbles in annoyance as he unhooks the ripped bag and replaces it with a new one.

"You told me not to hold back. Now is not the time to complain," Jimin grunts as he starts throwing punches into the fourth bag of the day.

He can feel the anger throbbing in his veins, causing him to shake with rage as he continues to hit the punching bag with his wrapped fists.

He catches a glimpse of the scar on his left wrist, glimmering with sweat against the harsh lights. Seeing the symbol for Wrath etched into his skin pisses him off more.

He hates being defined by his sin. He hates the fury ripping through his body and soul constantly. He fucking hates it. He hates himself.

Jimin screams out as he puts all of his anger into the hits, and he blacks out, letting it consume him. He doesn't fight against it anymore. The Wrath is too strong to fight against.

"Jimin!" his trainer yells and he gives his head a small shake to clear it, looking over at the man who is glaring at him.

"Save it for your next match and stop destroying my bags, damn it!" he sighs, exasperated as he drags away the shredded bag.

Jimin takes a deep breath and sits down on a nearby bench, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his face.

He stares at the mound of sand on the floor from the broken punching bags as he absentmindedly traces over the symbol on his wrist.

"Jimin, I told you to stop wearing that ring when you train. That's probably why my bags keep ripping," his trainer huffs as he hands him a bottle of water.

"And I told you that I never take it off. Not for you, not for anyone," Jimin rolls his eyes and takes a large gulp of water.

"You're lucky your gloves cover it when you fight or people would call you out for cheating by wearing a metal ring while fighting," he points out as he sweeps up the sand.

Jimin twists the black band around the forefinger on his left hand. "Drop it, Jackson. It's none of your business."

Jackson rolls his eyes before walking away to his office. "Fifteen minute break, and then we will do something that doesn't involve breaking my equipment."

Jimin rolls his eyes, taking another large gulp from his water bottle when his phone rings.

He stands up and grabs his phone out of his locker behind the bench and answers it immediately, not looking at the caller ID.

"Which moron thought it was a good idea to call me in the middle of my training session?" he snaps into the phone.

"I get it. Hell Wrath no fury like a man scorned," the voice on the other line says before falling into a fit of giggles.

"You have five seconds to tell me why you called before I find you and rip your throat out, Jin," Jimin says through gritted teeth as he kicks the metal bench across the room.

"Why??" Jackson yells from his office. "Stop breaking my things!"

"Can you call Taehyung and ask him what he wants for dinner? I was going to see what you wanted, but you're being mean," Jin pouts.

"Call him yourself. I'm busy, as I mentioned before," he says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm older than you, so you have to do what I say," he exclaims, and Jimin can hear him holding back more laughter.

"I'm—" he starts to say but Jin cuts me off.

"I gotta go! Text me what Taehyung says please and thanks. I'm gonna go eat some grapes... of Wrath!"

Jimin hangs up on him as he begins to laugh again and he growls in annoyance as he punches in Taehyung's number harder than necessary.

"What?" Taehyung snaps as soon as he answers.

Jimin scowls at the phone. "Excuse you? Don't forget who the fuck you're talking to."

"Sorry, Jimin," he says quietly. "Bad day at work."

He sighs, running his hand through his sweaty, silver hair. "Jin wanted me to ask you what you want for dinner."

Taehyung laughs loudly. "It doesn't matter what I say because he always ends up making what he wants."

"I'll tell him what you said. I have to get back to training," Jimin says, pausing for a second before continuing. "Go take a walk or something to clear your mind. You're sounding like me right now."

He hangs up and sends a text to Jin before running his hand through his hair again and slamming the door to his gym locker closed as he lets out an angry groan.

"Someone has anger issues," a voice rings out from the other side of the room. Jimin immediately tenses up. Why does it feel like he's heard that voice before?

He looks toward where the voice came from and he sees a woman with burgundy hair and bright green eyes walking towards him, her black heels clicking on the tiled floor.

"How did you get in here?" he frowns as she stops six feet away from him. "The door was locked."

The woman lets out a small laugh. "I don't let something as simple as a locked door stop me, love."

"Who are you?" he asks, taking a step back from her. "You look familiar."

"I'm not mad that you forgot about me. It has been around a century since we've seen each other," she smiles before turning on her heel and walking away from him.

"I— You—"

"Stop throwing temper tantrums, Wrath," she says, stepping over the broken bench. "It's rude."

Jimin stares at her as she opens the door of the gym and takes her leave.

"That was... no, there's no way..."

"Jimin, that bench was expensive!" Jackson groans as he comes out of his office.