The Rejects [YoonMin][NamJin]

Chapter Ten

Yoongi adopted his usual quiet, defensive stance as he sat at the table opposite Mr Kim.

His thin arms folded over his chest as he leaned back in the chair, an aggravated scowl on his face.

Two weeks. It took two weeks for him to fuck up and end up in this position.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

The man received a call from his wife just after lunch, telling him that something had happened with the blonde boy at school and somebody needed to pick him up.

She was already on her way to the car at that time, but Mr Kim told her not to come.

He would deal with it.

For someone so quiet and reserved daily, when Mr Kim arrived at the school, he was surprised to see the pure rage that emanated from the boy they welcomed into their home.

He sat outside the office with his backpack at his feet, fists glowing a bright pink colour and a red mark wrapped around his right eye.

By his side was a sheepish-looking pink-haired boy who twirled his fingers together, a small red blood stain on his white t-shirt as he avoided the eyes of his closest friend's father.

Yoongi didn't look up from the floor when spoken to, instead focusing on glaring at his feet and taking deep breaths, so his anger didn't explode outwards.

He didn't look at Mr Kim when he disappeared into the office; he barely even glanced at the younger boy who tried to ask if he was okay.

The older boy just waited, his balled fists constantly throbbing as he waited for the repercussions.

Yoongi had no idea what the man was thinking, but he could guess.

Mr Kim would be disappointed and horrified at the violent behaviour displayed by the elder. And then again, maybe he wouldn't care.

It wasn't the first time he'd been caught fighting, and it wasn't the first time the adult caring for him had to come to school.

There was no conversation between the blonde-haired boy and the dark-haired man when he re-emerged from the office. Instead, he stopped before Jimin, leaning down and cupping his face to lift his chin and examine his injuries.

He had a busted lip and a hand-shaped welt on his face.

But Mr Kim knew the physical marks from this weren't a problem for the pink boy. Instead, he would struggle with the psychological effects.

Yoongi didn't speak when Mr Kim told them to get in the car; he continued staring at the floor, gulping hard at what was coming.

He barely felt Jimin touch his arm when the car stopped, and he had to get out; the gentle lilt of his voice registered, but he couldn't acknowledge it because he couldn't think passed what was going to happen when they got back.

Yoongi sat in numbed silence as he looked at the abused skin of his knuckles, keeping his head down and avoiding the occasional glances from the older man.

When they entered the house, the first thing the blonde did was head for the stairs.

He wanted to run and hide, to slam the door and pull the bed across so it blocked access. He didn't want to see what would happen; he didn't want his peaceful existence to be shattered.

But Mr Kim wouldn't allow it.

His voice wasn't angry, but it was still hard and stern when he called Yoongi's name and directed him to the kitchen.

That was how the blonde found himself sitting at the table, his foot twitching with anxiety as he tried to mask the discomfort.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention every time the man opposite moved; his breath caught when he walked around the room and then sat down again.