Word Count: 2,594

 Chapter 2

Kimy(You) POV

There had always been something about Park Jimin that ticked me off. When we were younger, in elementary school, it was the fact he was male that did it. Middle school it was the fact that he was a good looking male. High school, it was the fact he was a good look male and he knew it. But as flirty as Jimin was, he was always a good friend to me. That last year of middle school, we became something more.

            We dated for three years.

The was my first time. And many times after that.

            His mother was a kind beautiful woman; she made money as airplane attendant. His father was a dashing business man that got what he wanted by seducing women. Naturally, their only son, Jimin was gorgeous and he knew ways to get people to do what he wanted. His father taught him to be convincing with his words and to use his beautiful face to his advantage. And when his father left Jimin to my older brother to care for, Chihoon taught him several different forms of martial arts.

            The childhood we had spent together, weird and violent as it was because of my brothers gang ties, was a happy one. But when Jimin turned fifteen, all the hit the fan. At that time, Jimin was staying with Chihoon and I, the last of his family had died. And I guess that our relationship just fell apart. We couldn’t get along, we were always fighting. Our breakup was tragic and cruel. I cried for a long time.

            And then he was always out, partying. Drinking. Fighting. It was like he didn’t care anymore.

            He was never harsh but after our breakup, when he spoke to me his words were only insults. Even as he tore me down, a weird loyalty and attachment I had to him kept me from saying anything to my brother or protecting myself. I must have thought that the old Jimin, my sweet caring middle school sweetheart, would return. But one night, he didn’t come back.

That was summer of junior year.

            I had stopped waiting for him to come back a long time ago but now he sat next to me in the, drumming his fingers as the teacher explained the lab, I could barely suppress myself.

            I wanted to break a chair over his snooty head.

            The insults, jeers, and exclusion I had suffered because of Jimin after our breakup. I had grown a lot stronger because of the dip. I grasped my pencil and continued to take notes.

            The teacher set us free to perform the experiment, a simple chalk and vinegar reaction. Our sample of chalk and two beakers filled with vinegar sat in front of us, untouched on a red plastic tray. I reached across the table and picked up the piece of chalk.

            “So,” I say, snapping the chalk in half for the two trials we were expected to do, “why are you back?”

            I didn’t turn to look at him; instead I tried to keep the conversation as light and casual as possible. After class I would ask for a different desk partner.

            Jimin breathed out in a way that I knew he was smiling and pulled the tray closer to us on the table.

            “I’m back for you,” he lowly. Monitoring my emotions I allow myself to sniff in amusement and slip one of the chalk pieces into a beaker.

            I carefully write down observations, “You’re funny.” I say emotionlessly and glance back at the experiment. Jimin slides closer to me, his voice is a murmur when he speaks.

            “Let’s talk; I have a lot to say to you.” He whispers. I grit my teeth in anger at his words.

            “Correction, , you want to talk. I have nothing to say to you and I couldn’t care less about what you have to say.” I rise out of my seat. He looks up at me with, his eyes stay blank but the tension in his jaw tells me he's hiding behind his emotionless face.

            Instead of glaring down at him a feel a weird wave of calm come from the pounding adrenaline in my veins. The entire class turns to look at us, “I want nothing to do with you.” I say softly. I reach down, gathering up my things and walk out of the classroom.

---

I couldn’t take it. His offhanded words to me, like the year of hell he put me through was nothing, drove me off the edge. I growl in frustration as I threw open the school doors and headed home, my last period class was math and I didn’t have the patience to struggle through another subject. Instead of heading home, back to my apartment like I should have, I found myself at the front door of my brother’s massive nightclub.

            I pushed the door open and entered. I was allowed in easily, I was known as my brother’s younger sister. People gave way to me under the intimidating glare of Chihoon. 

            It was still daylight, so the club was sedated. Middle aged men who would filter out once the sun set, sat around tables playing cards or pool. They all either smoked or drank something.

            I passed them without a second glance and head up to the second story, my brother pretty much lived in the second floor of his night club. It housed the VIP lounge, only me, my brother and his most trusted gang’s hung around there. Recognition from the twin bouncers who guarded the doors outside was required to even be let in.

            I pushed past them in annoyance and slipped inside.

            The VIP room was furnished with muted colored tables and couches, the old stereo in the corner filled the room with old piano music. The room smelled of smoke and oranges. It was dimly lit and if one wanted to something besides playing cards, the reading lights at each table were the only source of strong light. The windows were boarded up and painted over.

            My brother sat at one of the table’s playing cards with a member from Big Bang, a gang that had been signed under my brother for so long they were almost part of my family.

            He looks up at me.

            Without saying anything, I plop into an empty seat and slump forward. My loose hair flies forward and messes up the array of cards at the table.

            “Kimy,” Chihoon complains offhandedly. I can hear what sounds like TOP chime in his half-assed protest. Knowing my brother there probably hasn’t been a move in several hours; they’re probably bored of the game and left their cards out while they took a smoke.

            Not in the mood for anything from the two boys with the mentality of six year olds, I pull my head back a few inches then slam it back into the table. Making a noise that belongs to a dying cat, I rub my forehead into the table.

            “Are you okay Kimy-ssi?” TOP asks curiously. I yank my head off the table and examine the two males in front of me. They sit on opposite sides of the small table, a cigarette dangles dangerously from my brother’s fingers and both men have thick tumblers filled what I assume is some ridiculously expensive alcohol.

            “Guess who I met at school today?” I ask, raising a hand to knock hair off my foreword. Annoyance from my previous encounter resurfaces.

            “I have no idea.” my older brother responds calmly, bringing his cigarette close to his mouth. I frown; strong enough alcohol could turn my brother composed and responsible. It was weird. I pick up the glass in front of him and take an experiment sip.

            I almost drop the glass. Making a sour face at the strength of the drink, I set the glass down again and turn to TOP.

            “How long has he been drinking this?” I ask. TOP grins.

            “It’s his first glass. He’s been working on it all afternoon.” He informs me. Snatching up Chihoon’s glass, I empty it out into a nearby trash. I return the glass to the table and my older brother stares at it detachedly.

            “Today I saw Park Jimin.” I announce. I wait for some sort of reaction my brother. All he does is shrug.

            “So? I met him yesterday, he joined a gang. They came to me for a contract.” He snaps his fingers in thought, “They called themselves BS or something like that.”

            TOP laughs, “BS?”

            Chihoon shrugs again, “I can’t remember but I agreed to give them a window of time to prove themselves.”

            “Are you kidding me?” I spit, glaring at my so called brother, “He came back and you didn’t tell me anything? You don’t care? Don’t you remember what he did to me?”

            “Keep your pants on little sister, what does it matter? That’s all the past.” He commends. Even TOP seems surprised as my brother speaks.

            I shut my eyes. Chihoon was drunk, he wasn’t aware of how he was acting. I knew that, but even as the words came out of his mouth I felt betrayal trail up my throat.

            I standing up, I grabbed the bottle of liquor that stood between the two on the table. Chihoon and TOP both looked up at me. Chihoon looked bored, TOP looked confused.

            With one quick movement, I broke the glass bottle on top of Chihoon’s head. He wilted forward, knocked out, the drink sprayed everywhere. Alcohol soaks his head and drips down his neck. Carefully, I pick the glass out of his hair and let them fall onto the table. They land with quiet little clinks.

            “When he wakes up he’s going to a have a hell of head ache,” I say to TOP, dropping more fragments of glass onto the table, “take him home please.” I remove the last of the glass. TOP watches me in amusement.

            “Of course miss,” he agrees, pulling the lit cigarette out of Chihoon’s fingers and snuffs it out on the tray.

            “Thank you,” a strained smile appears on my face. I’m always beating up my older brother for doing stupid things, me knocking him out isn’t uncommon but this time something was different. I was pissed.

            I turn stiffly and walk out of the room.

---

I was annoyed. Annoyed was probably the biggest understatement of what I felt, but it’s probably why I was unprepared of the ambush.

            It was Saturday morning and I was headed to Niki’s for to oversee BAP’s patrol.

            The mall I was passing by was plastered with posters, promising the sales and the hottest new styles. People streamed in and out, most carrying bags or crying children. I continued walking.

            I felt a hand on my wrist, yanking me back against someone’s chest. My reflexes kicked in and I used the attacker’s momentum to slam my elbow into his gut. A familiar voice cried out in pain and let go of my arms. I whirled around and my eyes registered Jungkook’s shocked face.

            “What~” I stalled in surprise, only for a second but it was enough time for some to wrap their arm around my waist and keep me from struggling. A handkerchief was pressed to my mouth and I immediately ceased breathing.

            If I inhale anything whatever they dusted the handkerchief with would most likely knock me out. I tried digging my elbow into the attacker stomach, trashed around in that attacker arms, but I couldn’t get loose. The attacker held the handkerchief fast on my face. I stared at Jungkook with panicked eyes. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I breathed in, just the slightest bit, and out.

            I woke up to the smell of chicken flavored ramen. I sat blinking for a few moments, gathering information about my surrondings. I was tied in a metal folding, my hands cuffed behind me. Interestingly enough, my legs were free.

            Jungkook’s wide eyes stared back at me.

            “Holy !” I screamed in utter shock, jerking back in my chair. Jungkook’s face was so close to mine that I could tell the difference between his pupil and dark iris. Jungkook winces in surprise but shakes it off easily

            “Noona,” Jungkook asks enthusiastically, “are you really the little sister of one of the biggest gang contract owners in Seoul?” I narrow my eyes at him.

            “No,” I say wryly, “my older brother is a hooker, working off his credit card bill.”

            I hear several different voices laughing and I turn away from Jungkook to survey the room. It’s an almost bare apartment room. I sit in one of the two pieces of furniture. The other, an overstuffed sofa, rests on the opposite side of me. Sitting on it are two vaguely recognize from Jungkook’s group of friends. Three lay around on the ground in various sitting positions. They all stare at me.

            “What the ,” I mutter and try moving my hands. As I suspected, the handcuffs are sound I can do nothing but jingle them.

            I look back up at the boys, the stare back at me. I raise an eyebrow. Their handsome faces arrange themselves into confused expressions.

            “Good morning beautiful,” I hear Jimin’s voice before I see him appear. He walks out of what I can only imagine is the kitchen. In his hands his carries a large pot of ramen. He set it down on the ground in front of the group of boys and straightens up.

            “What the hell?” is all I can think to say right now.

            Jimin grins cheekily as tugs at my handcuffs, “I remember the last time I got you in handcuffs.” His smile is suggestive and I glare at him. There some part of me though, some small traitorous bit that says; I remember too.

            “Shut up,” I hiss, “why the did you, of all the people in the world, decide to kidnap me?”

            Jimin doesn’t respond at first, he grabs a bowl of ramen and scoops some up with his chopsticks. “Ahh.” He sings obviously expecting me to open my mouth.

            I squint my eyes at him incredulously, “no.” I deadpan.

            Jimin shrugs and slurps up the noodles himself.

            “I talked to you brother a few days ago,” he reveals, “He said he’d offer us a contract if we proved ourselves.”

            I burst out laughing. The boys look at me curiously. Jimin raises an eyebrow.

            “Yeah, my brother was talking about guys. BS or something like that,” I snicker. The boys scowl in annoyance, but I paid them no heed. Jungkook pouted.

            “Noona,” he whined.

            Jimin grins at me, “BTS.” He corrects me and I smirk up at him.

It took me a few seconds to shake the handcuffs. I grabbed them before they clattered to the ground.

            “So am I the prize?” I ask, “You’re going to hand me over as a proof of your skill? You could kidnap the great Lee Chihoon’s younger sister?”

            “Nah,” Jimin smiles, “I’m going to ask you to join us.”

            I moved. I pushed off the chair, slamming a foot into Jimin’s stomach. Jimin, who obviously wasn’t expecting anything, cried out in pain. He stumbled into a wall and slumped down. Maybe I hit a little harder than necessary, but the asked for it. The rest of Jimin’s “gang” rushed forward.

            I grinned.

A/N: Thank you for reading❤ Please subscribe and expect more chapter in the future❤