Tomorrow│YM

[05] Tête-à-tête

Steve's face twisted into an ugly grimace and he doubled over, releasing Jimin's wrist in the process. "You'll regret that you fucking brat," he snarled venomously at the ground.

Oh shit.

Jimin sprinted out of the living room, cursing himself for getting into these sorts of messes. The floor plan was unfamiliar to him, but he raced towards what he hoped was the kitchen. He could hear Steve's footsteps gaining on him as he navigated what felt like a labyrinth of corridors.

His heart rate spiked when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder just as he was rounding a corner.

On instinct, he bent backwards and twisted away, managing to do so without losing his footing. He launched himself down the hall a second time, making it a few paces around the corner before Steve had his hand on him again.

This time, Jimin did not attempt another evasive action. What little worry he had for his safety vanished at the sight of Steve's foyer, and the three bodies that loomed in the doorway.

Steve couldn't do shit with so many witnesses. Not to mention Jungkook was looking particularly badass with a crowbar resting on his exposed shoulder, his charcoal muscle tee showing off his bulging biceps.

"Let. Him. Go." Taehyung demanded. Jimin had never seen the brunette so angry.

"Fucking make me, twink." Steve snapped, increasing the pressure on Jimin's shoulder, causing the blond yelp.

Jungkook placed his free hand on Taehyung's chest, stopping him from charging in. "Fine by me," he replied instead, cracking his neck in both directions and nonchalantly stepping further into the home.

Jimin had had enough. There was too much fucking testosterone inside this fucking house. Calling Steve's bluff, he walked out of his grip with only moderate resistance. He turned around to face him, unknowingly stroking his injured wrist. Steve looked like he was prepared for another round of name-calling tête-à-tête, but Jimin decided it was time to lay the cards out on the table.

"Yoongi, get in the car," he said calmly without turning, challenging Steve with his eyes.

"What?" the man laughed incredulously, caught off-guard. "You've lost it. Yoongi is mine."

"And you are a violent narcissist who can't be trusted with someone's life," Jimin countered without wavering. He looked over his shoulder at the stunned hybrid and softened. "Yoongi, please. If you come with us, we will help you. You don't have to live like this anymore."

"You can't fucking do this, the hybrid is my fucking property!" Steve growled, baring his teeth.

Jungkook took another step forward, lifting the crowbar off his shoulder, but Jimin waved at him to stand down. "I am fucking doing this. If Yoongi wants to go, we will take him as far from you as we can fucking manage."

"But- you-" Steve sputtered, struggling to regain control. "You can't afford a hybrid, Jimin, you can barely take care of yourself!"

"I've been taking care of myself for years," Jimin retorted, furrowing his brow. "I'm not gunna listen to financial advice from an unemployed manchild with a trust fund."

Despite Jimin's best efforts, Steve detected the chink in his armour and changed tack. "You can't even afford the special food to feed her. Do you know anything about hybrid care at all?"

"I can sure as hell take better care of him than you," Jimin yowled, triggered by the condescending tone. He turned back towards the hybrid, ready to end the confrontation for good. "Yoongi, where does this loser keep your food?"

Yoongi stared at Jimin, expressionless, the occasional tail flick giving away his indecision.

Steve jumped on the opportunity to score another point. "See? Even Yoongi knows she's better off with me. Good kitty."

Yoongi scowled, ears flying back. He stalked towards the kitchen, tail whipping back and forth in large fluid motions. At first it looked like he like he might pounce on his owner, but he walked right by and opened a drawer, pulling out a fabric grocery bag. He opened a cupboard and began clear a shelf of cans. The bag was bursting at the seams after what must have been two dozen of them.

Sparing a solitary fleeting glance at Steve as he walked towards the exit, Yoongi swung the bag of cans onto his shoulder with a piercing clank and continued out the door with little fanfare.

A victorious grin broke out on Jimin's face. "Tae, go with Yoongi. I'll be out in a sec."

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at his friend, reluctant to leave. He crossed his arms and huffed, but ultimately did as he was told, turning around to follow the hybrid, long legs skipping every other step.

Jungkook, on the other hand, sauntered towards the kitchen, rotating the crowbar in his hands and stopping just before he reached Jimin. His eyes were hard and his jaw was set, and even Jimin had to admit he looked intimidating as hell in spite of his coconut shaped haircut.

Jimin shifted his focus back to the thoroughly bewildered Steve. "I never want to hear from you again, do you understand me?" Jimin spat. "If I hear so much as a sniffle, starting now, I swear to god I will track down mommy dearest and tell her that her depraved son likes to hate fuck twinks while he chokes them."

Before Steve could respond, Jimin took a step closer and continued. "Fucking test me, I dare you. I will get you disowned. You will finally learn that having money isn't a personality trait. The world will see you for the worthless sack of shit you are - and you won't be able to pay someone to listen to your mommy issues."

Steve glared at the floor, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists. He refused to meet Jimin's eye.

"Kookie, do you think he heard me?" Jimin asked the muscle bunny.

Jungkook cutely pursed his lips and hummed. Suddenly he let the length of the crowbar slip through his grip so that the hilt smacked the ceramic floor so hard the tile split in half. A deafening CRACK echoed through the house.

Steve flinched.

"Yeah," Jungkook answered with a smirk. "I think he heard you."