JUNGKOOK

I sit on bed, trembling as I hold my graded test paper. Sweat pours down my back as I bury my paled face in my hands, shaking violently.

He was going to hit me.

A 96.

My open books and dim lamplight on my desk seem to dissolve in meaning as I swallow, imagining what would exactly happen the second my father came back home from work.

He was going to hit me, and I might not make it to school tomorrow.

A soft sob escapes my lips as my eyes fix on the question that I'd gotten marked wrong. It's a careless mistake— a careless mistake that I was going to have to pay for.

Should I just keep it from him?

No— he'd know anyways in the future, and then he'd be furious that I'd kept it from him. There was no choice but to tell him, and accept my punishment.

Then I hear the door click open, and my father's gruff voice.

"I'm back."

My fists clench together as I slowly stand up from the bed, feeling breathless with the paper tight in my hand. Finally I get enough courage to step out of my room.

My father looks up at me from his newspaper.

"Jungkook." He says, and I don't realize I've been holding my breath until my chest feels suffocated. "Yes, how'd the test go today?"

His eyes slit at my lowered head.

"Give me the paper, son." My head feels light, and everything goes black with panic. What would he do this time when he realizes that I didn't get a perfect score?

"Son."

I flinch, and I can feel his hardened gaze on me as I quickly put the test paper in his open palm.

"So unfocused. I expect to say things only once." He says scornfully, flipping through the pages. "And I expect a hundred as usual—"

Then everything pauses, and I bite back down a gasp as he shifts on the couch.

"Isn't this the same type of question you always get wrong during your practice tests, Jungkook?" He asks, and my eyes slightly open in surprise. I nod quickly, pulling nervously at my hands.

"Yes, father. I- I promise I'll do better next time."

"No dinner tonight," He sighs, and the hope grows inside my chest as he puts the test away on the small table next to him. "I'll expect you to do much better next time."

Was— Was this it?

I talk furiously fast. "Yes, father. I promise— I'll get a perfect score next time, I swear. I—"

"Good, son."

Then his gaze turns cold, and all the bubbling hope dissolves in my chest as he motions towards the fireplace.

"Fetch the poker, will you?"

________________________

L

When I walk into third period, my body freezes. Not giving a damn about the yelling teacher, I instantly grip Jungkook's wrist and pull him out of the classroom.

He winces, brown eyes dull.

"Min." He says tiredly, eyes flickering around nervously. "What— What are you doing? We should.... get back to class before the teacher gets really mad at us."

"Damn the teacher." I hiss, and he shivers slightly when I touch his cheek. "What's this? Jungkook, look at me."

One side of his cheek is raw and tender, and he mumbles quietly under his breath. He's shaking, and I growl low in my throat.

"Who did it."

Then my eyes narrow even further when I realize he's slightly arching himself. Instinctively, I wrap an arm around his body, my hand pressing tight against his back.

Like I expect, he jerks away with a sharp gasp. He's struggling not to cry, and I quickly hold him again, my touch more soothing this time.

"Don't cry, baby." I mutter sweetly into his ear, voice soft but eyes sharp. "Jungkook— I need you to lift your shirt for me."

His brown eyes widen, and he looks around panicking. I get more certain every second as he shakes his head firmly, inching back from me.

"I— I can't."

"Yes, you can." I say silkily, my fist clenching behind my body. Whoever this was, I'd leave them half-dead. "Yes, you can, Jungkook."

Finally, he stops. He's breathing unevenly, knuckles white as he grips the hem of his shirt with his hands. When he lifts it up to his shoulder, anger twists my features.

Scars cross over scars on his pale skin, and the ones on the top look too fresh to be done any earlier than yesterday. It hasn't even closed, still open and red.

My eyes flash.

"Who?"

_________________________

JUNGKOOK

Min's shocked face is still visible through my tearful eyes. She doesn't look disgusted like I expect her to, but my body still shrinks back in shame.

My cheek stings.

"Who?" She whispers, her eyes deadly. I swallow at the darkness of her gaze, my heart beating erratically as I let my shirt fall back again. "Tell me who. Right now."

"My— My father." I finally say, and it feels like a huge weight is lifted off my chest when I admit to her. "But he's not a bad person! He just means well for me—"

"Shut up." She cuts me off, voice on edge. I stop talking in an instant, and a deep sigh escapes her lips as she pulls my trembling figure to hers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be like that, baby. Please don't cry."

Her arms are against my back, but they're barely touching.

"Your father is crazy." She says harshly, her expression cold. "Don't tell me anything else, Jungkook. Because this isn't acceptable. And if you think it is—"

Her lips tighten.

"Damn that man for making you think that way."

"H-He's my father." I stutter, pushing her away. She looks up at me, as if daring me to say otherwise. "Don't talk bad about him, please. I know how he treats me might be wrong, but—"

"But he means well. I know it."

She stares at me for a long, silent moment, sadness in her dark gray eyes. When she finally opens her lips, her voice is filled with disbelief and fury.

"You can't possibly believe that."

"I-I do." I whisper, and turn away. I don't go into the classroom, but I leave her and the school altogether. Because if I think if I'd stayed there with her just for a second longer, I would've broken down in tears.

Pathetic.

And I'd already been enough of that.

_________________________

L

"If you keep kicking the wall like that, it's going to break."

Just to piss him off, I kick the wall roughly one more time and force myself to calm down. Yoongi raises an eyebrow at me, waiting patiently for me to tell him what's wrong.

"He's not safe at home."

"What? Who are you talking about? Jimin?"

"Why would I be talking about Jimin?" I say, tightening my hands together. "Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner— his hands too. I knew he was lying to me."

Yoongi's eyes go wide. "Wait. What do you mean he's not safe at home? He's getting abused?"

I nod, curses running through my lips like water. "His father. Should I kill him?"

"Well, if you want to get arrested, sure." He sighs, looking worried. "I don't think even Jimin knows that. He looked confused about his hands too."

"L!"

My eyes instantly freeze over in ice as it catches on the person who'd called my name. I abandon the wall, ignoring Yoongi's calls as I go right up to his smirking face.

"You bastard."

Then I slam my fist right in his cheek, and he crumples to the ground. He doesn't look that confident anymore when I press down on his chest with my foot, my expression murderous.

"How do you know Jungkook?"

"S-So you do care about that nerd." He hisses, but I catch the stutter. A devilish smile lifts the corner of my lips, and I press more weight on my foot.

"I asked where you heard that name."

He presses his lips together. He's trying to pretend he's strong, but I smirk. All he is a boy, with a mentality that could be easily shattered like glass.

I can hear Yoongi sigh when I kick him across the face.

He gasps and coughs, cheekbone bruising quickly. Now the fear is something I can see, and when I lift my foot again, he relents.

"I-I saw you two walking!"

"Oh, so you're one of those people who keep bothering Jungkook." I say smoothly, and I hit him again without any hesitation.

When I finally push off of him, his face is almost unrecognizable.

"Bother him again, and I won't hesitate to kill you that time." I hiss icily to his swollen face, spinning on my heel and leaving the race tracks. Yoongi catches up to me, an amused smile on my face as I pull out a cigarette.

"So you've decided to claim him."