Victim | YOONSEOK ✔

1

Yoongi was woken up by a bright light burning holes into his eyes.

"Argh! Are you fucking kidding me? You know I hate light this early in the fucking morning." Yoongi snarled, hiding under his covers.

"I'm sorry, master, but it always seems to do the job of waking you up, sir." His servant spoke, "Now sir, I suggest you change out of your... frog pajamas...?"

Yoongi glared at Sungjae, "Leave," The servant rolled his eyes at his young master's childish behaviour and left, "And for your information, these were the only clean ones."

Once Sungjae was gone, Yoongi sighed and layed down on his white king-sized bed in annoyance. Why did his parents send Sungjae to wake him up this early? It wasn't even 10am yet.

He looked around his rather large, neatly arranged room with a countless number of pricey decorations. The wooden floor was complimented by an exquisite, red Persian rug. The entirety of the room was lit up by modern lamps and had a large crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards the giant, arch-topped window, giving him a perfect view to the city life outside his dad's multimillion dollar mansion.

Yoongi rose out of bed, his dyed blond hair sticking out in all sorts of weird ways, and made his way to the expensive bathroom to start yet another boring day in his life of being the son of a billionaire.

-

He stepped outside his room in his black and white striped turtleneck and the once quiet halls were filled with the tapping sounds of Yoongi's Gucci shoes against the dark marble floor.

He made his way towards the garden where Seokjin was most probably hanging out.

"Hey, Yoongs." Seokjin waved a hand from across the freshly cut grass field which was their garden. Yoongi smiled to himself. Seokjin was the only source of contentment he had in his miserable life.

Yes, he was a billionaire, but being one had its downsides too.

"How's my little brother?" Seokjin ruffled Yoongi's hair which, mind you, he had spent fifteen minutes styling.

"Step-brother." Yoongi corrected, greeting the elder with a hug.

"Same thing."

Yoongi's mother had died when he was little over three years old, so he didn't remember anything about her except her name which was told to him by his father. His father, much too saddened over her death, remarried to another woman a few years later and she already had a son, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin comforted Yoongi when he cried after the wedding. He took care of him like he was of his bloodline. He befriended the broken boy and slowly picked up his pieces and helped put them back together. Yoongi had grown fond of Seokjin ever since. They were just like real brothers.

Yoongi still wasn't over his mother's death, however. Sure, he didn't know her for most of his life (the only thing he remembered was a pair of warm brown eyes, smiling at him) but he was still convinced that she was a great woman and his father's decision to marry another woman, meant he never loved her truly in the first place.

"I'm fine, Jin hyung. What's up with you?" Seokjin asked. He really was a handsome guy; with broad shoulders, full lips and a tiny waist. His eyebrows were the definition of perfection; thick and well-shaped.

"Nothing really, dad wanted me to learn how to fly a helicopter 'cause he says I'm old enough and mom said that... Well, um-" Seokjin rubbed his neck towards the end of his sentence.

"What did the bitch say?" Yoongi asked, he had an extreme hatred towards his stepmom ever since she moved in with them.

"Yoongi, be nice. I know you don't accept dad's decision to marry her but he did and now you have to call her 'mom'." Seokjin scolded, "And by the way, that's my mother your talking to."

"Fine, I'm sorry. But I am not calling her mom." Yoongi folded his arms.

Seokjin sighed at his step-brother's immature, stubborn behaviour. Taken from the fact that he had known him for five years, he knew Yoongi would never listen. He knew Yoongi would never accept the fact that his real mother was dead and he needed to get over her and change his attitude towards his new family.

He will eventually.

"What did 'step-mother' say?" Yoongi emphasized the word 'step-mother'.

"She asked me to teach you some manners. She said that it had been five years and that now you need to let go of the past." Seokjin's arms dropped to his sides.

"And tell her I said, fuck off." Yoongi remarked.

"Whatever the fuck you say, Yoongs. Let's go inside, breakfast's probably done by now." Seokjin put an arm around Yoongi's shoulders and the two boys walked to the dining room together.

-

"Good morning, Yoongi! How are you?" Kim Yeojin greeted her son.

Yoongi however didn't respond, and sat on the family dinner table which was draped with white cloth. Seokjin glanced at his step-brother with slight concern, and then his gaze shifted towards their father.

"Yoongi, greet your mother back." He spoke with a restrained tone. He was angry.

"Good morning, mom." Yoongi directed the word to her as an insult more than in a loving tone. Fuck, Yoongi was doomed.

"Yoongi, behave." His father threatened as Seokjin quitely shoved a mouthful of scrambled egg in his mouth.

"Or what?" Yoongi challenged.

That was when Seokjin decided to intervene, "Mom, dad, did you see that new video about the dancing bird?"

-

The dark-haired figure walked towards his drawer, pulling it open and clicking a few buttons located under the forks and knives.

The bookshelf to his left made a loud groan, shifting to open as if it were a hidden door, which it was. Finally, it stopped with a thud.

The man's thin lips curled upwards in a smirk, his thin, long nose casting a shadow on the floor as he made his way to the room behind the bookshelf.

He chuckled, looking at the wide range of weapons hanging on the walls in the wide rectangular room.

His eyes set upon a beautiful firearm. And not just any firearm, but his beloved 50 cal sniper rifle.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He whispered to the gun, taking it off the wall and carrying it towards the table in the centre of the room.

The man disassembled the weapon, and then reassembled it as if it were simply a ballpoint pen; he did it with a grace far better than the one of a dancer.

"How about I take you out for a little spin, hm?" He licked his lips.

Before he could do so, however, he felt something vibrate in his pocket, a small tune playing.

He picked up the phone,

"Hello, you have reached J-Hope, what do you want?"

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a/n:

ya gurl's back at it again with yet another fanfiction-