˗ˏˋ 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 ʸᵒᵒⁿᵐⁱⁿ

17 • 𝘩𝘶𝘨

17.10.18

"Yoon hyung, I know I'm seventeen years old, but you always manage to make me feel as if I'm seven all over again."

-•§•-

☆*:｡.Eleven Years Ago.｡:*☆

"Don't touch me!" It was raining outside. The first thing he heard when sirens had awoken him from his luxurious sleep, the night now disturbed by echoing sounds of slamming doors and shouts of commands- all in the wake of his mansion at the crack of dawn.

The dark-haired boy rubbed the remaining hours of sleep from his eyes before sitting up in his big king-sized bed, pulling one of the thick red curtains aside to peer out into the front lawn, raindrops sliding down his window.

"Let me go! Don't touch me!" Yoongi's eyes widened when he witnessed two policemen grabbing a boy who looked way younger than him by the arms, dragging the poor latter to their front door.

His front door.

And not long after, a few raucous knocks on the door got him jumping up and out of bed, his heart racing from the sudden revelation.

"This is 119! Open the door!" He had reached for the doorknob as soon as he left his room, ready to open the door without his dad's consent but was pulled back by the shoulder, making him jump.

"Young man! What did I tell you? Don't open the door without my permission!" His father scolded briefly, a tight hand still latched to his shoulder as he squeezed it due to warning tendencies.

Sirens still echoed behind the door as colours spun round and round, bursts of reds and blues painting the dark interiors of their lonely home.

"But dad, it's the police. We're friends with the police, right?" A young Yoongi asked, curious but oblivious to the world happening beyond the front door.

He never stepped out of the house before. He felt the breeze through open windows and doors sometimes, saw sunlight and felt warmth through transparent glass, smelt cooking in the air from nearby front lawn barbecues occasionally, and he witnessed rain.

But he never stepped beyond the threshold.

Never. So he was curious, very curious. Yet why didn't his dad let him out?

"Just, go back to your room Yoongi. Sleep. You have an interview tomorrow morning," the young boy was about to butt in and correct his dad that it was technically morning already, but the look the man was giving him made him shut his mouth, "and no but's, young man. You will grow up into a millionaire and I don't want you failing that- especially not when you're nine years old already."

What did his father mean? What millionaire? Where was the freedom dad promised him on his birthday a few years back?

Didn't he deserve what he wanted? He got a cake and some businessmen to celebrate his "9th birthday party" that dad likes to call "stock sale meetings" with, but how come he never travelled outside or made any friends?

Heck, he didn't even go to school. His excuse for that was, "you need to grow up professionally, boy. A millionaire isn't as filthy and low as any old educated child, remember that."