Yoongi's POV
"You know that it's already a huge risk taking you here. People have heard things. I don't want another person coming up to me and asking if it was my son who punched the Kwang's son or if it was my son who broke the security alarm off the school gates and jumped over to skip school. I have had enough with your misbehavior, Yoongi." Mother yelled at me.
We were far enough that no one could hear what they were saying, but some people saw and stared. My mother took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself down. Father was behind her, in deep thought looking down and tapping his foot against the beige concrete sidewalk.
"Why did you do this? Hhm? If you hadn't taken up this stupid addiction we wouldn't be having this conversation." She started up again. "You were never supposed to turn out this way. God never intended his to happen to our son. Why, why are you doing this to us?"
"You think I am doing this for fun? To torture you or to be mean to you two? That is incorrect. 'God' has no plan for me. He never had one and won't make one for me even with all your pleading prayers you say every dam* Sunday." I spit back at her. "I never meant to become a smoker. The feeling felt good and helped me escape this wretched world with you people."
A gasp left my mothers mouth. I could tell her blood pressure was rising, slowly but surely. Her arms crossed her chest and she huffed out a strong breath, turning to my father who still has spoken a word to me.
Why do they even care? In a year and a half, I'll be out of their beloved home and their worries will go to waste. At this point, if another concerned and questioning member of this church comes up to my parents to try and tattle-tale on me, let them. It just gets me closer to leaving them.
"Yoongi," My father's words shocked me and cause my attention to divert, "you never cease to amaze me. Every week we have a new problem with you to deal with. Whether it be at school, something at home or at our holy church. You are not the son we raised, you are definitely not the son I begged for either." His voice was calm, holding in her anger and his head was still facing the ground for the same reason. If my father looked up, he'd probably have the urge to take a swing at me, but he wouldn't since we are still at church. "We sent you to the best correctional facility in the city and the beast in 3 other cities. They have seemed to do nothing. Nothing has been fixed. You are the same stupid, horrible thing of a person. And this will be the last time, if you do not fix up your act by the end of this school year, I am sending you away far up north. You have 9 months, do not waste any time." With the last warning, he turned around and walked over to our car.
My mother stood there, staring at me. "I wanted a son, not a piece of trash." And then she followed suit and heading towards the car.
The car ride was like every other one. A Catholic podcast rang through the stereo system in our car, my mother and father listening and having small conversations about what the person was preaching about. I sat in the back listening to my music off of my phone and stared out the window. There have been a few time when I have piped into the conversation but that just led me to be yelled at. Forgive me for using my rights to speak my mind.
"Yoongi, go upstairs. I will call you down for lunch in a little bit." My mom informed me. I just nodded and went to my room, or as I like to call it my sanctuary. The only place in the world where I can, sort of, be myself. The other place is my hideout. The tarnished silver door handle twisted to reveal my room behind the door.
A grey color covered my walls and dark oak flooring flowed into my room from the hallway. My bed leaned against the wall with a small nightstand sitting next to it. A lamp, a notebook, and a few other random things were scattered across the top of the nightstand. On the other side of the room was my desk which had my laptop and some school stuff. Above were some shelves, that my CD and record collection sat on. A dresser was also in my room but clothes spilled out of every drawer.
I threw my body onto my bed and kicked off my shoes. Not at all caring where they went on the floor of my room. Unplugging my headphone, I connected my phone with my speakers and started playing my music through them. The vibrations of a broomstick on my floor didn't phase me, instead, a raised the volume of the music.
My parents like their classical and church music to be played all the time in the house but I don't care- I really don't. I am my own person and will be myself for as long as I live. I never have lived by their rules once I figured out I didn't need to. I am allowed to live my life the way I want to.
"YOONGI! Come down for lunch, now!" My father screeched from downstairs. I groaned at the sound of his voice but obliged and headed downstairs to join them. I plopped down on the chair in my usual spot at the dining table and waited for a plate of food to be placed in front of me. My mother put it down soon and then went over to her spot which was across from me and next to my father.
"No words?" My father spoke up.
"Excuse me? Did you want me to say something?" I was already annoyed and it had only been a few seconds. You could hear it well in the tone of my voice.
"Young man, don't give us an attitude. We are the ones mad." Mom said while eating some food.
"Ugh, I don't care," I mumbled under my breath.
"No mumbling and sit up straight, please." My mother begged. Her son is supposed to be perfect: straight back, clean thoughts, well spoken. I am none of that.
"I'm going out. Won't be back till late." I said and left the table. Pushing my chair back and scratching against the floor making a horrid sound.
"No, be home before 8."
"Not likely, asshole." And I banged the door closed.
The air was nice outside. It was still sort of warm because it hasn't gotten chilly out yet. I kicked rocks along the way to my hideout. Ducking under branches, sliding under thicker ones and jumping over small rivers to reach my hideout.
An old abandoned house in the woods near my house has been my hideout since I was nine. I found it when I ran away from home after my parents yelled at me for not doing my homework. My father slapped me and I started to cry- what else would a nine-year-old do? He got mad that I was being a crybaby and went in for another slap but I quickly rushed out of the house. Grabbing my sweatshirt on the way out and running far away. I marked the way into the woods so I knew my way home, even though I didn't want to go back.
When I got a far way into the woods I noticed a river that was different shades of green and brown, small fishes swam in the odd colored water. I sat on a nearby rock and watched them swim around. My tears dripped into the river sometimes, leaving my eyes and reminding me why I was here. I looked around some more and noticed a stone and mud path. It twisted through many trees and bushes but I followed it. My shoes got muddy, which my mother will scold me for later, but I didn't care.
The house was small and beaten up. The owners were long gone and the only things that remained were crappy furniture that has seen much better days. I usually go out into the sunroom that is attached to the side of the house. The clear plastic roof and walls have cracks and holes in it but it still lives its purpose.
I throw my body onto a soft chair that was in the room. Long life and nature has stained it a little but it's still nice. A wobbly, wooden side table is next to it with a plastic food lid filled with cigarette butts and ash. I lean back into the chair and sigh.
Life isn't what anyone ever wants. Especially mine. Who thought it was a good idea to give Seong-hyun and Soo-ae a child. They would ruin one and they obviously have.
Exhibit A.
Taking the small box of 'sick sticks' as my mother calls them and slipping one between my thin lips. I flip open my lighter and let the yellow-orange flame burn the end of the cigarette.
As I huffed out some smoke, something came to my mind. I looked out into the forest and saw something that triggered it.
"Fuck."
A daisy flower- Jimin.
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Sorry for taking literally FOREVER to update. But here you go! I have been crazy sick this past week and super lazy because of it. I hopefully will update soon. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!
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ᗪᗩIᔕY- Yoonmin
FanfictionDevil and Angels. Good and Bad. Children of Satan and God. ___________________________________________ *not edited* When Yoongi, a troubled, rebellious teenager finds his new obbseion, a very small, delicate daisy named Park Jimin. A poster child f...