His Bodyguard || K.TH.

3. New Day

He's staring at the way you peel back the plastic cover of your small cheese and crackers snack and he licks his lips before huffing again, shoulders slumping in their spot. He looks down to his chip bag, gets up from his spot and comes tottling over. "Hey."

Silence.

You continue watching the television and try to follow along with the story. It's hard when you're not used to watching. But Taehyung is unimpressed with you ignoring him again and he plops down in front of you, forcing you to look at him.

"Hey, I said!" He's loud. "Pay attention to me! I was asking if you wanted to trade snacks!"

The seven year old haughtily shoves his bag of chips into your shoulder. "You can have these. If I get those cheese crackers of yours. I like them."

You stare at Taehyung before looking down to the blue rectangular bag held in his tiny fists. Then your eyes stray to your cheese and crackers, the one snack you chose with your allowance.

He sighs. "Please. Pretty please?! Can I have them or not?!"

You hand them over. He snatches your cheese and crackers with a triumphant smile, grinning from ear to ear as laughter fills the air.

Taehyung drops his bag of chips into your lap as he leaps over the table and runs down the hall, his bedroom door slamming shut a second later. You're alone in the living room. And as you peek into the chip bag he gave you.

There's nothing inside. Empty.

He already ate them all.

–

Bam!

The man comes at you with a forefist, knuckles prepared to come into contact with your mouth, but on muscle memory alone, your body ducks. Your back turns slightly, your leg comes out at an angle and it's brought back in a fluid spinning hook kick. Your foot collides with the side of his helmet and he's too caught off guard to catch balance.

Seokjin allows himself to fall back onto the mats. He laughs breathlessly, not in shame but because he's impressed. "You're still good, aren't you, chickpea?"

Your arm extends, helping him get onto his feet again. A small smile decorates your lips. "You didn't have to let me win. You know my feelings won't get hurt."

Seokjin shakes his head, running a hand through his hair and moving the sweaty strands away from his face. "I'm not letting you win, chickpea. You crushed me. Gave me a run for my money. Are you sure you've gotten out of shape? Or did you just use that excuse to demolish me?"

He grins and another smile, more genuine, tickles up your visage. "We should call it even then since you always won back when we were in the same class together."

"Okay." He drops a hand on top of your head, making you jolt from the sudden affection, but his arm returns to his side too soon before you can get used to it. "We're even then. But I want a rematch, Miss Y/n. I'm not letting myself be beat by a black belt when I'm a black belt too. I have a name to live up to around here, y'know."

The memory is fresh in your mind. Every time Jin was able to kick you, hit you, pin you on the mat in front of other kids. While the tables have turned and you're now able to beat him, the achievement isn't pleasant.

Rather, you remember how humiliating it was. Not because Seokjin always claimed victories, but because of your father's clear disappointed expression that came each time you fell, because you would've rather been wearing a dress and making chocolates to give to Jin, not trying to hit and kick him and beat him in a match. You wanted to be pretty, not sweaty and gross and-