Don't Call Me Angel || VMIN

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Seconds dragged out as the two sat, quietly observing each other. Unlike Taehyung, who was draped comfortably across his seat, half-full glass still hanging from one hand and a curious gleam in his eyes, Jimin had gone rigid. His whole body was tense, frightened of the impact of what he had just said, of how those few syllables could finally collapse everything he had so methodically built up to protect himself. Their conversation played over and over in his head like it was stuck on some neverending loop.

"I'm guessing everyone has told you they're different so it wouldn't be much comfort if I said that?"

"You don't know what you're saying -"

"Oh, but I do."

"So lucky little me just happens to be exactly your type, did I? What feature was it that caught your eye then? My tiny waist? My flawless curves? I suppose it helped that I'll bend to your every desire without so much as a breath of complaint?"

"You're far more than you give yourself credit for. You're not just a body you know."

"That's all I've ever been Kim Taehyung: a pretty face with a fuckable body, but by all means claim that my personality matters too. We all know that's a load of bullshit anyway. It's funny because now I can't even do the only thing I'm good for seeing as my body is completely screwed. Your own father made it clear that was all I would ever do, so forgive me for not trusting you when you say you're 'interested'."

"I don't want you because you look pretty all dolled up in lace, I know there's a whole lot more to you than that."

"Prove it."

Those last two words had slipped from his lips before he could stop them and the lack of reaction from the elder was unnerving. He had simply smiled gently and sat further back into his chair, apparently perfectly unbothered by what had been said. Butterflies were an understatement for the description of the chaos that had churned inside of the dancer, a stampede of wildebeest seemed a more accurate phrase, but that had died down a while ago.

Currently, it felt as though a huge weight was pressing down on his chest. The room had become stuffy and, if he didn't leave soon, he was sure that he would end up glued to his seat by his sweat. He was reminded of the last time he had told someone that and the trouble it would have caused had Hoseok not stepped in; the redhead had managed to calm everyone down and stop him from doing something he would regret; it was just after the younger had pulled himself out of that dire, destructive mental state and he was certain that things would have gone downhill if he hadn't been whisked from the room.

That was why he hadn't the faintest clue what had prompted him to say it again, what had made him so convinced that he thought this time would be any different.

Lost in his mind flurry, clutching at the armrest to try and keep himself anchored to reality, he didn't notice that two other people had entered the room. He was only vaguely aware of their presence as he fought off the memories swirling inside his brain. It wasn't until he caught the name 'Yugyeom' in their conversation that he paid close attention.

That man was supposed to be protecting his best friend and sister from Sunwoo and if these two were going against Taehyung's initial order, when he asked for a private moment with the younger, then something must have happened. Convincing himself otherwise wasn't going to work and he scrunched up in the chair, listening to the end of Yoongi's message.

"Yugyeom is on the phone, he says he needs to speak with you," the mint-haired man informed Taehyung, whose relaxed expression hardened at once, emphasising the seriousness that this call might entail, "Apparently Sunwoo showed up last night."