"You're going to help me 'till you shit that shit out, understood?"
"Eat my ass and maybe you'll increase your chances of getting it sooner."
Park Jimin is a troubled teenager who steals from other people to keep himself on his own two feet. But one...
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↻ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀꜰᴜʟ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ & ᴇꜰꜰᴇᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴇɴ ↺
The next morning, Jimin's surprised to feel a pair of arms wrapped around his small frame. His eyes flutter open and he feels the most awake he's ever felt as Jeongguk's face is merely centimeters away from his own. The very tips of their noses brush and he takes this opportunity to study the man's face blatantly like he's done many times before.
He even dares to reach his hand out this time, threading his small fingers through Jeongguk's black curly locks of hair. Soft to the touch, he can feel his heart beat steadily in his chest as a result.
For once he feels safe and like he doesn't need to run. Perhaps maybe even wanted, but he thinks that loosely. He's still a teenager they grabbed off of the streets simply because he stole something that wasn't his. But he's still alive. That has to mean something.
Jimin's fingers still find home in the man's soft hair as his owlish eyes open. They stare at each other for a moment without saying anything. Silence fills the air, and the teenager gasps softly as soon as Jeongguk's hand moves from the boy's middle to his waist, gripping tightly.
"Good morning, little one. Sleep well?" the man asks with his deep, groggy morning voice and Jimin feels his stomach do somersaults.
"No bad dreams," he says quietly as he removes his fingers from Jeongguk's hair, tucking his arm back beneath the blanket while he continues to look him in the eyes.
"That's good," Jeongguk says with a smile. "Can I ask what they're about?" he questions, and Jimin hesitates to answer, eyes averting from Jeongguk's. He's eager to run from his past but perhaps that's only wishful thinking, and just maybe not possible.
"Do you really wanna know?" the teenager asks, and the mafia leader hums in response.
"Well, it's kind of a long story..." Jimin replies and the mafia leader shuffles around, propping himself up against the headboard.
"I'm all ears."
Jimin wriggles his nose, climbing out from beneath the covers. He completely forgets that he isn't wearing pants and instead sports the mafia leader's large top in a gown-type way. He blushes, however chooses to ignore it and sits cross legged beside Jeongguk, playing with his fingers as he stares down into his lap.
The silence eats away at him, and pressures him in a way to open his mouth. And so he bites down on his bottom lip, releasing it slowly before speaking.
"During my childhood my father wasn't very... let's just say he failed as a dad. That's the easiest way to put it," Jimin settles with and with no response, he peers up briefly to meet Jeongguk's attentative gaze. The teenager rubs at his nape, continuing knowing that the man is still listening.
"He had this kind of superiority complex. Whenever my mom or I did something wrong, we'd suffer the consequences by being hit," Jimin explains quietly with a neutral tone, unaware of the way Jeongguk heats up.
