Fake Love {A Min Yoongi Fanfic}

Chapter 10: His Gift

"Um...I..." I stammer, his eyes piercing into my very soul. I held my ground, although I didn't think I could; my legs held me up like a skinny tree in a storm.
He doesn't ask further questions, he just continues to lean against the edge of the roof. "I have your coat," I manage to cough up, swinging my bag down to the ground and opening it in front of him. Pulling out the slightly wrinkled coat, I give it a few quick strokes before holding it against my chest and making my way towards him.
Stopping about 4 feet away, I grab it by the collar and hold it out in front of him. "Here. Thank you for letting me use it," I say as politely as I could without wanting to throw a punch at his smug face.
But he didn't hold that smug smirk from yesterday. That scared me. Instead, he held this glare while glancing between the coat and my eyes.
Raising his arm, he takes it back into his own hands, his scent probably overpowered by my room in which it stayed in last night. His eyes scan the coat, the few wrinkles standing out the most.
"Stupid girl. You couldn't have at least ironed it back for me?" He asks, throwing it over his forearm before going back to staring at me.
"I-well, I didn't have an iron or even enough time this morning," I protest, folding my arms at the slight breeze that blew much colder than the courtyard. "I'm sorry it doesn't fit your needs. And anyways, I'll be on my way then," I hold my head high, beginning to wipe around when my wrist is suddenly grasped, stopping me.
I whip back around, wanting nothing more than to just leave. "What? You're hurting me," I say, only for his grip to lighten but not retreat.
He finally lets go to bend down to his bag at his feet. Pulling out a small box, he holds it out to me. My eyes widen at the picture of the new IPhone 11 Pro on the front and the iconic apple symbol on the side in the color purple.
     My eyes flicker back up to his, not knowing exactly on what he expected me to do. "What?" I ask, shrugging whilst looking down at my feet nervously.
     I hear him scoff before grabbing my wrist again, only softer this time, and placing the box in my hand. He holds this position, his hand wrapped around my tight wrist, that made him have to bend over slightly to meet my eye height.
     "You aren't that spoiled, aren't you?" He murmurs, slowly leaning closer to me until I could feel his hot breath on my lips. "But even so, I believe the correct response is, 'thank you," he whispers, the feeling of his hand tightening his grip slightly but not enough to hurt.
     "Spoiled?" I repeat, the word slipping through my lips. "You've got one thing right and that's that I'm not spoiled, unlike you and your wrinkle-free clothes. So no, you don't deserve my thanks and I'd like my old phone back please," I say in a clear, sharp tone that showed my seriousness. His eyebrows raise at my words that must've been the longest thing he's ever heard me say.
     Then, a smile creeps up on his lips, a smile that only made me angrier. His head nods, not in understanding, but in almost agreement. "The phone that you wished for me to replace? After all, wasn't I the one to run into you?" He asks, his smiling holding up. "Just take the phone. The other one was old and broken anyways, right?" He adds, my heart humming in a way that wasn't flattering, but embarrassing. I was embarrassed.
     "You don't understand...I can't take this," I reply in a low tone. My feet shuffle nervously as he just raises an eyebrow in confusion. A man of his class rank would never understand. "I can't afford to pay the bills for it so just...get your filthy money back already and return my old phone."
     I wanted to cry from embarrassment and somewhat shame. I didn't mind being middle class and not having to enjoy what he probably got. But I've learned to use it to my advantage when it came to money and this deal was not worth it.
     His continuing silence only got tears to actually creep into my eyes before having enough. "Fine, just take it," I mutter, handing back the phone and whipping my wrist away from his grip. I proceed to grab my bag and hurry away from him as fast as possible.
     I left him on the roof probably in confusion, but I drove home where I did my homework and told my parents of my "lost" phone. They didn't seem to mind actually.
     "Oh well, if you want to, dad's old phone still works. You can use that while we try to get you a new one," my mother explains as she stirs the steaming pork in the pan, making my mouth water at the delicious smell.
     "Yeah, don't worry about it, Dea," my father joins in, patting my back as he passes me. "In fact, if I get a raise this month, maybe I can get you a brand new one."
     I smile gratefully at my parents who I knew were trying their hardest to fulfill my needs. "Thanks, mama, papa."
I trudge up to my room where I began to conjure some ideas for my Literature essay. As I did though, I hear the door open downstairs, and chatter from both my parents and a third party. 'Is that Jiwoo?' I ask myself, setting my pen down and going out into the hallway, throwing my hair up as I do so.
I reach the bottom of the stairs while pulling a few strands of hair from the ponytail. 'Oh, I hope it's Jiwoo,' I think, my excitement rising as I enter the living room to have them fall in a heartbeat.
Three heads turn to face me, two being my parents and the other one being Jungkook.