Pretty | Yoonmin (DISCONTINUED)

one

"Thank you for meeting with me today Mr. Park," The older man said, breaking the tense silence with his low, dull toned voice, peering over the lenses of his spectacles at the boy in question, who was fidgeting nervously in the rather uncomfortable chair on the other side of the glossy, hardwood desk, twisting his small, clammy fingers together, and thinking of how odd it felt to be referred to as a Mr. anything by a man who looked to be thirty or forty years his senior. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to discuss your aunt, Ms...Park Seo-hyun..."

Jimin twisted his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging his sweater sleeves down in an attempt to keep the cool air from biting into his skin, and hide the shudder wracking his body at the mention of his deceased guardian.

He wanted to snap at the man.

Obviously, why else would I be here?

But he didn't. He just smiled politely, weak and humorless, and nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

"She raised you, correct?"

"Yes," Jimin mumbled in a tiny voice, timid and hesitant, his high pitched, light words heavy with a rare kind of poorly hidden sadness, a slightly pained look clouding his gentle features. "She took care of me from the time I was eleven until I was eighteen."

The man made a quiet, humming sound, jotting down something on the paper in front of him in black pen, neat and immaculate handwriting, yet exceedingly boring to watch. Jimin sighed silently, predicting what he would ask next before the question escaped him.

"And why is that?"

Knew it, Jimin exclaimed in his head, shoving down his weariness and frustration at having to repeat the story for what must have been the umpteenth time, and explaining patiently his tragic life story.

"My father was a cheating piece of shit that brought home other women every night and drunk himself into oblivion. He didn't give a damn about me or my mother, but she loved him too much to leave him. He died of alcohol poisoning."

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss." The man apologized, but his words were empty. Spoken more out of obligation than anything else, his brown eyes remaining dull and disinterested as he mustered up some sympathy. Jimin held in his scoff. "And what happened to your mother?"

Jimin blanched.

Ah.

The one parent he actually cared about.

He squeezed his knees together, sucking in a sharp inhale to clear away the burning in his throat.

"Couldn't deal with the grief and the scars he left her with," He said quickly, his mouth going dry and palms turning clammy and sticky, fingernails pressed crescent moons into the soft skin. He swallowed hard. "She...she killed herself."

A flicker of surprise passed over his features, hand moving furiously across the page as he recorded Jimin's past in emotionless, matter of fact sentences, muttering another insincere apology that he waved away.

He hated having to explain himself all the time, and getting these stupid, half assed responses in return. He hated talking about it in general, hated hearing those words.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

He thought he'd had enough of that for a lifetime.

Apparently he was wrong.

He was used to losing things.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"So, you know your aunt left a will should anything happen to her?"