Late Night Radio || Yoonmin #Wattys2018

♪Paranoid♪

Jimin Focus

"T'fuck you think you're going this late, Jimmy?" The slippery, grimy slur of the drunk man shot bullets into whatever was left of Jimin's blissful trip out with Yoongi.
The radio could be heard from the small junior's room- quiet and killing but still audible.

Shit. The son thought. I forgot to turn it off before I left.

"♪Between two squares and four corners—I've lost my totale. This is the end, it is done— because I never obey myself♪"

"What are you doing here?" The junior's voice broke. Weakness and hatred consumed his body- clashed like oil and water in his veins. One part of him screamed at him to grab Yoongi and run, the other told him it was about time he returned the black eye the man had given him; wrapped in a silly, bright black and blue bow that he hoped would stay shiny for weeks on the man's face. He wanted him to know the humiliation he did. He wanted him to have to drag his hung over ass to work the next day and sew some lie to his coworkers about how he'd gotten it.

Hatred seemed to be winning out as the oil popped and boiled the water into steam.

"M'here for my things." His father smiled with a flailed shrug. "Didn't you miss me? Didn't you miss your dad?" He sneered, setting down the box in his arms on the kitchen island counter and marching over to the runtish, pitiful son of his.

The hug that the older man trapped him in made his skin crawl and eyes burn. He clenched his jaw and didn't move.
"I know I'm not the best father, sport, but at least be grateful for all I've done for you and greet me."

God this can't be happening. He thought ghostily.

"♪Walking and hating this street, but I'm still standing here~ I need some time for myself.♪"

"What do you mean?" Jimin sputtered, squirming like an animal caught in a snare. His father's body jolted with tar filled chuckles as he tightened his hold and smoothed down his son's spine with his heavy hand. Jimin looked over at the box of stuff on the counter. "So you're leaving then?"

The grimy gurgled grin could be felt in the sensitive skin of the brunets neck as tears of disbelief began to tumble like granite from his eyes.

"But- but don't you dare think'I won't be visitin' you two soon. Don't think- don't think I'll let you off easy af'tah all the spine breaking you and your mother did." He threatened.

"I'll call the police if you step foot near me and her again." He whispered.

"I have'very right to visit my own home. You're my son. You have no god damn right to tell me where the fuck I can and can't go. You don't work for shit." The man gripped Jimin's forearm and dug a dirty, outgrown finger nail into the sensitive crevice of the bend. "Isn't that right?!" He bellowed, spit hitting like bullets into the junior's soft cheeks.

Body shaking and crumbling the longer his father spoke; the longer his father held him. His parents were divorcing- they were supposed to be separated and he and his mother would be freed of the diseased man.

God, push him away. Move. Get away from him. He told himself- though not even the voice in his head sounded strong enough, couldn't really edge him to take action.