Run With Me || JJK+PJM

two

JIMIN

I take a full bow and only look up once I hear the door close. The room around me sits hesitantly with a stiff coldness. I hear my father talking with my music teacher outside the tall doors and I turn back to my grand piano. My father only ever gets out of bed to talk to my teachers to see how I'm doing nowadays.

I cover the keys with the blood-red cloth before walking over to the tall windows. Our music room is on the first floor so when I drag the curtains to the sides, light caresses the marble white walls and pillars. I switch off the lights and let the sun do its job.

I hear light, forced laughter on the other side of the doors and my ears can immediately pick out the venom. The female high-pitched laughter fades away as the doors open. There is a rhythmic clicking of heels before it stops feet away from me. I stare right into the sun - like it's a deity I'm praying to.

My jaw clenches as I slowly turn around - it's an instinct now.

The very sight of her makes me want to keel in earnest. She has a ferociously fake blonde tainting her hair (so much so that it makes it look like hay) and her skin is the most unnatural shade of white. Her face is sharp and unforgiving, her lips thin and cruel.

"How are you today, dear?" her voice is forced into that high pitch she thinks garners her sympathy but really only makes me want to end her more.

"How's your sucking up to my father, Choi?" I ask back. She tilts her head back in a rehearsed manner and lets out a controlled laugh.

"Silly boy! I've already told you! I'm your mother now! A Park! You were at the wedding, weren't you? Oh, wait..." she trails off with a pout and I refuse to let my fists clench.

My mother had passed away 4 years ago when I was 15. It was traumatic, painful and I never truly moved on. A year after that, my father suddenly announced that he was going to marry a certain Choi Mi Cha. Needless to say, Choi and I never got along. In the three years that she has roamed our mansion, she's been dismantling everything my mother has accomplished.

Her next goal is to get me off my father's will so his fortune goes to her. All of it. I think of how much thought my mother put into choosing this specific plot of land in London and how little thought it'd take for Mi Cha to sell it off.

Quite frankly, I've lost hope in helping my father get rid of this witch and I would've been fine trying to live out the rest of my teenage years in this household before moving to God knows where to start anew. However, recently, Mi Cha has been trying to uproot my life. She wants my father to stop covering my needs because she simply just wants all the money.

It's infuriating, it is.

It's absolutely maddening to watch this woman waltz into my home and demand my father to drop his life to rain his money down on her. The only reason why she has yet to physically kick me out of this house is that my father simply loves me too much.

It's foolish and sad - how he can't see what a witch this lady is. She's been signing me up for extra lessons for music, academics and even random things like archery or horse-riding - anything to keep me from my father and nagging at him long enough for him to drop her.

My father can't see through her ploys. He's old and at the brink of death. I try to get the image of him on his deathbed out of my mind. He can't get out of bed these days. And I'd rather not talk or think about it.

As I look Choi in her icy blue eyes, I almost want to cry thinking about my father's precious leftovers that will be ruined in her hands - almost. But I keep my chin up because I have my plans.

"Get showered. Dinner will be ready soon," she only smiles when she finishes talking. Then she turns and walks out, letting her dress drag behind her and her jewellery knock against one another.

It takes me a few moments to collect myself before I walk out too.

***

Dinner is always quiet.

I'm slowly eating my food, pushing it around, forming mountains, grass and then nothing. Every dinner, instead of spending it by my father's side at his bed, she takes her seat at the head of the long table. It's as if my father's dead already by the way she's acting. But I'm tired. I'm too tired of begging my father to open his eyes and see.

I can feel her eyes squint to her side at me every so often. And I already know why. A few days ago, I'd taken it upon myself to sneak into the nearby town and dye my hair silver. When I came back, Mi Cha screamed and shrieked and lectured me on appearances and such.

I think her scoldings only fuel my urge to keep rebelling.

I'm about to stand and leave the table - I can already hear Mi Cha warning me that I should be asked to excuse myself before leaving - when suddenly, the heavy doors to the dining hall rush wide open.

A helper stands, panting. Mi Cha stands abruptly, her chair screeching behind her, ready to berate the helper.

The helper's chest heaves as she finally speaks.

"Mr Park is dead!"