Don't Call Me Angel || VMIN

σαράντα πέντε

TW// gun violence

A hard silence followed his words and nothing stirred around them for several long seconds, each one drawing out painfully into the next. The tension was suffocating and Jimin could hear the rush of blood pulsing around his body, hammering against his ears drums. If the pressure built up any further, he was sure his heart would burst.

What was Taehyung going to do? The question rattled around inside him, his mind flicking through answer after answer, progressively coming up with something worse. He wouldn't blame him if he snapped and fired a bullet right through the old man and it certainly wouldn't bother him. However, he couldn't get over how difficult it would be to cover something like that up, the gunshot would attract enough attention itself and, if people were to see the two of them standing by a dead body, the police were sure to get involved.

It hadn't occurred to him before now why the authorities had never intervened; there had been lots of confrontations like this one and plenty of them had gotten violent, several of them had even ended in considerable amounts of bloodshed. So, why had no one ever gotten in trouble?

Contradicting the younger's predictions, Taehyung hardly reacted to Yongsun's taunt. His grip on the weapon definitely didn't loosen, but there was no loud bang. In fact, there was no visible sign that he had been affected by the words whatsoever and Jimin wasn't convinced he had heard them until the elder spoke up.

"I think we both know I surpassed his position a long time ago," the brunette shot back, his words laced with venom, "You're in no place to be throwing around jests, Mr Park."

His tone gave away the anger he was holding back and the dancer was surprised his father didn't flinch. There was something far more dangerous about how calmly the situation was being handled and it felt as though the temperature had plummeted several degrees.

"And you're in no position to act so boldly," Yongsun glowered, regaining some of his withering confidence, and he drew his arms across his chest.

If it hadn't been for the handgun stationed between them and the implications of the words they were spewing at one another, the way they were talking would suggest that the two were merely having a disagreement.

"I hope you haven't forgotten who you're talking to," the eldest made to continue, finding himself cut off by the other.

"I certainly haven't, it would be hard to forget talking to such filth. It seems that you are the one who hasn't grasped what's going on. Let me illustrate it for you:" Taehyung stated, his demeanour darkening as he glared at the old man, "you are the one who should be concerned for your safety. It would be an insult to your intelligence to point out the obvious reasons why, so I'm going to skip passed the explanation and give you one final chance to walk away or I can assure you I will use force."

Each syllable rang out clearly in the night air, despite the low tone he was using, and the dancer didn't loosen his hold on his hoodie. Fear continued to creep up on him. It was hard to overcome it when the memoires of the tiled room were so fresh in his mind. The very image of his father brought back a mountain of loathing he didn't know he was capable of harbouring and the panicked crease around his eyes slowly turned into an angry glare.

That man had caused him nothing but pain. Going back to his infancy, he could remember the endless shouting matches between his parents, which more often than not left him cowering in the corner of his cot. Then, when the yelling finally ceased after four long years, he had discovered his father had abandoned them to run off with another woman and he had been forced to grow up in an environment that was far from nurturing. The torture had continued and recently, upon finally meeting the man who was supposed to have raised him, he had been subjected to even crueller treatment. No wonder he was so messed up.