Rule Number Nine | Y.M

Chapter 5

ジェットコースターの蝶
ROLLER-COASTER BUTTERFLIES

💮

Yoongi is standing in front of me with a look of anger as he stares down at me.

I sigh, internally rolling my eyes because god, he's so fucking dramatic.

"I don't hear you speaking Jimin." He taunts, eyes glaring into slits as he waits impatiently.

"Why should I?" I grumble, and in the corner of my eye, i can see Taehyung furiously shaking his head, as if saying 'don't mess with him' or 'stop, it's a bad idea.'

He clearly didn't know me that well if he's asking me to stop, when I should be defending myself because for fuck sakes, Yoongi is such a fucking hypocrite it hurts.

Who the hell does he think he is, telling me who I should and should not talk to? He has absolutely no right whatsoever over me and my decisions.

"Because I'm your hyung and you should respect me."

I scoff. "Are you serious hyung? This is my private life. I don't interfere with yours, so don't interfere with mine." I grumble, angrily folding my arms over my chest.

I seem to grow even more angry as I watch him mimic my actions, he too folding his arms across his chest. He slowly walks towards me as if I were his prey, and he leans down towards me. I try to slide the open condom wrapper beneath my thigh as quickly and discreetly as I can before he can spot it.

"Well at least tell me who gave you those horrid hickeys." He sneers, eyes full of disgust as he eyes the blooming bruises on my skin.

Instinctively, my hand reaches up to the base of my neck to trace over them. "What, you don't think they look good on me?" I snicker, and Taehyung only shakes his head, creeps towards the closed door and slips out.

I scoff internally. Some bestfriend you are, Tae. Always leaving me to deal with your psycho brother.

"I think they'd look better if they came from me." He mutters, and I automatically freeze. My body goes rigid and I don't think he realises that he said it out loud.

No. Maybe I misheard him. I must have. He's straight. Why would he, a straight guy, say something like that?

He stares at me, like he's waiting for something to happen. His intense gaze makes me uncomfortable, so I shift around on the bed.

But I instantly regret even moving a muscle.

Because his glare zeroes in on the foil wrapper, and his eyes only seem to darken even more as he harshly grips my thighs and reaches to pull it from under me.

He holds it in his fingers—stares at it, then stares at me. "Please don't tell me you—"

"That's none of your business!" I screech, face flushed from embarrassment. I leap for the wrapper and rip it from his hands. "Please get out. I would really like to rest right now."

"Rest? From what? His dick?" He scoffs.

"No, you idiot." I say. "I need a rest from you and your hypocritical assumptions." I fire back, huffing and falling back onto the bed. I can still sense that he's in the room and I can feel him walk slowly towards the foot of the bed.