Titanium || Park Jimin FF ||

°~Alone~°

"Jeon Y/N, I can see you. I choose you as my first trainee."

Your heart drops to your stomach as you squeeze your eyes shut, banging your forehead against the leather boxing bag before meeting with everyone's gazes.

Stepping out from behind the bag, you grit your teeth, walking up to the ring with your head lowered and clenched fists.

Son of a bitch.

In his arrogant triumph, he smirked, just a small pouting of the lips, a narrowing of the eyes and a tilting of the head. It was so subtle, it was even more infuriating for you who caught a glimpse of it after making the foolish mistake.

Taking your place beside him, the coach moves on to Jungkook who seemed agitated and restless with constant glances between you and Jimin. White knuckles from clenching his fist too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent that exuded an animosity like acid.

The last thing you would want to do at the moment was make eye contact with him, for you just might burn up under his fiery gaze. Not many people wanted to be on his side either and you could see their faces fall as he called out their names. He was like the Gordon Ramsay of boxing. One mistake, and he'll blow you over.

*~°~*~°~*~°~*~°~*

You see him rummaging through his locker and your boiling anger increases with every step closer to him.

You harshly grab his shoulder, turning him around as he looks at you with wide eyes for a moment before returning back to his playful demeanor.

"You little piece of shit, why did you do that?!"
You whisper yell, noticing the increasing number of people entering the locker room.
"Do what?"
He asks, pushing his lower lip out in a pout and shrugs.

You take in a deep breath, controlling yourself from bursting in this room. Jungkook inherited his temper from your father. But right now, you started to question if you had received it too.

"You know what I'm talking about."
You say in a low voice, glaring at him. He just smiles, walking past you and into the boxing room that was now empty. Following him, he leans against the base of the ring with his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Why did you pick me?"
You ask, fearing that your temper might get the better of you if he doesn't answer.
"Why not?"
He says, raising an eyebrow.
"Because I don't like you. Get that straight. I wanted to be with my brother and not with an arrogant douche bag who has his filthy rich parents wrapped around his insultingly tiny pinky finger and a golden spoon shoved up his ass!"
You yell, and his smirk falters for a moment as he looks down at his feet.

(I adore his pinkie finger btw-)

Your confidence wavers as you wonder if you were a bit too harsh, but you can't let him know that, so your hard exterior still remains.
Clearing his throat, he pushes himself off the ring and walks toward you.

You heart skips a beat at his change in expression as his eyes meet yours. His hazelnut orbs now seemed to have a swirling red, like a storm left unchecked, brewing inside him.

His angry eyes indicate that his brain is in a different mode, that he has switched gears from arrogance to cold emotional indifference. Never once has he directed this mode in your direction, yet it emerges when he senses a threat, and so this is part of his full on protective mode.