Black • Cat | KookMin || BOOK 2#

One. First mischief

Jimin wore black: he saw a gentleman with a necklace, rings and a cell phone that he really liked. He can't afford anything like that. His parents wouldn't give him the money, his cell phone works fine and he doesn't need a new one.

So Jimin would get it on his own.

Jimin got to the building and with difficulty, was able to make his way through the window and avoid the doorman, then the security guy inside the building and up to where the older gentleman lives. He has some time watching him, hearing that he occupies an apartment on the twentieth floor, it was a matter of a cursory check.

Can Jimin pick locks?

Something like that.

It's more accurate that he knows how to break them with a tool.

Wearing gloves, he knows it won't be a problem, no one will be able to frame him for this.

Jimin identifies the man's shoes and some of the man's clothes, so he goes straight into the apartment. It is huge. The view of the city is spectacular, so high that some of the light pollution has no effect. Jimin rests his hands on the glass and his brown eyes take in the wonder he had never observed before.

"So you're the kid who's been following me. Very brave of you to think I wasn't going to notice."

He turns sharply, putting his hands behind his back. His heart races and his nerves give him a headache. The man approaches, wearing barely-there light clothing. White shirt, sleep pants, barefoot. He still has a lot of things on, Jimin has impossible not to focus on that.

As if his mind has the impossible task of not seeing what shines and is gold or silver. He bites his lips and furrows his eyebrows, grumpy. He's a very tall guy. He hasn't grown up yet. He doesn't even look like he's going to grow much.

"What do you want, to rob me?" Jimin gives a snort, looking away. "I guessed as much" the man mumbles, disgusted and grabbing Jimin by the face; he scrambles around, scrunching up his face and staring at the floor. He doesn't like to be touched Why does he do it? He doesn't want to, doesn't want to, doesn't want to. "Although I'm surprised that, unlike usual, you're not the typical miserable thief..." Broad, stubbly fingers caress his cheek, soft and smooth and he releases him because of so much reluctance. "How old are you?"

Jimin bites his inner lip, puckering his face from time to time. Ending up answering irritably.

"I turn fifteen in a month." says Jimin, looking to a side.

"Too young to go into someone else's department."

"I just want that ring." he lies, mentioning the green stone ring.

Jimin likes green a lot.

Not more than black, pink and yellow, but he likes it.

"Just this?" he shows the ring. Jimin nods, staring at it. "We can fix it..." proposes cocking the head, staring at him; he notices Jimin doesn't look him in the eye. As if the teenager can't. Jimin clenches his hands tighter behind his back. "If you really came for that and wanted to leave with this in hand. I can give it to you.

Jimin mutters under his breath, curious, anxious.

┈ ⋞ 〈 ✷ 〉 ⋟ ┈

He plays with the ring on his hand, taking bouncy, dancing steps as he walks. It's such a pretty color and it's a huge ring. He inadvertently bumps into someone. "I'm sorry." Stammers the other person.

Jimin's eyes dilate. He notices the piercing on the other's lip. He is sure that person is a couple of years older than him.

"No problem." replies Jimin, stunned by that.