Hyungie plaything {Jikook}

47

"He shelters me from everything, but if I ever tried to leave? I'd need a map, a ladder, and probably some snacks to survive the escape."

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Little Jimin's POV'S

The empty feeling in my tummy makes my insides twist and turn like little butterflies. It's been days since I had a proper meal, only nibbling on bits and pieces that don't quite fill the empty space. The other kids are fast asleep, their soft snores creating a peaceful melody in the quiet orphanage. I tiptoe out of my cozy little room, trying to be as quiet as a mouse, hoping no one will see me.

I sneak into the kitchen, where the faint smell of yesterdays bread still lingers in the air. My stomach rumbles softly, reminding me just how hungry I am. With my fingers shaking just a little, I open the pantry, my eyes shining with hope as I search for something delicious.

There it is-a loaf of bread sitting on the counter. It's a bit old and hard, but I don't mind. I reach for it, my heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. I break off a piece and take a big bite, relishing the moment.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps, and my heart skips a beat. I freeze in place and slowly turn around. Standing in the doorway is the matron of the orphanage, her gaze sharp and piercing.

"What do you think you're doing, Jimin?" she asks, her voice stern.

I pull the bread away, my hands trembling. I want to explain, to tell her how hungry I am, but the words get stuck in my throat. I feel so small, like a little bird caught in a storm.

She steps closer, her eyes narrowing. "Are you stealing food again?" Her tone feels heavy, and I can tell she's upset. "You know better than that."

In one swift motion, she takes the bread from my hands, leaving me feeling empty again. My eyes water a little, but I stay quiet, knowing it's best not to argue.

She holds the bread in front of me, as if to remind me of what I can't have. "You're too weak, Jimin. You need to take care of yourself," she says, a hint of frustration in her voice. "Maybe this will teach you."

Before I can even react, she pushes me toward the stove. I stumble a bit, catching myself just in time. Looking up, I see her grab a metal pan from the top, its heat making me flinch.

In a moment of panic, she presses my hand down onto the pan. The sudden heat catches me off guard. I gasp, pulling my hand back, but her grip is firm. "You'll learn not to take what's not yours," she says, a hint of harshness in her voice.

Tears well up as the heat sears into my palm. I try to pull away again, but she holds me tight. The burning sensation grows, and I can't help the tears that start to fall.

Finally, she lets go, and I stumble backward, landing softly on the floor. My hand aches, and I curl up, overwhelmed by embarrassment and hurt. The taste of the bread fades away as the feeling of sadness outweighs everything.

"You're not worth much, are you?" she whispers, her voice low and distant. It makes my heart ache in ways I can't quite describe. Does anyone really care?

But just then, a small voice rises in my heart.

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Suga was standing outside the small hut, the cool night air enveloping him as he scrolled through his phone contacts with one hand while the other was buried in his pocket, glancing over at Seojun, who was pacing like a caged animal, anxiety practically radiating off him.