The Street Child (Min Yoongi)

Chapter 17: Despondency

Yuna's P.O.V:

The drenched cotton touched his lip and he winced. I pressed my lips into a thin line. His wounds had almost stopped bleeding, giving way to large bruises forming on his face.

My hands were trembling horribly as I dabbed at the cuts scattered all over his face. His sorrowful eyes had not moved an inch from mine, and it wasn't helping the tremors.

"There."

I removed my hand from his cheek, and for a few seconds, we continued to stare at each other, until he suddenly flinched away from me. I gave him a surprised look, unable to comprehend the abrupt action when it sunk in; my hand holding the cotton was still resting on his gashed cheek.

I removed my hand immediately and shrunk back.

"Sorry!" I squeaked.

Yoongi licked his lips.

"It's alright," he whispered.

My heart clenched as I drank in his disheveled appearance. Out of nowhere, a fire ignited inside me; a fire of anger.

"Yoongi."

He looked at me anxiously, waiting for me to say something.

"Who did this to you?" My voice came out strained.

I saw him gulp.

I raised my eyebrows, coaxing him to answer.

"I-I don't know. I didn't ask his name," he whispered dejectedly.

My eyes screwed shut.

"Do you-do you remember what he looked like?" I softly asked.

His tongue flicked out and lightly ran over his lips. It prodded the inside of his cheek. He closed his eyes and released a breath.

"Black unruly hair. Heave-lidded eyes. He-he had a...a kind of....dark look to him. Like he was hiding something."

Black hair. Heavy-lidded eyes. Dark look. Mysterious.

The words fit together in my mind like a puzzle piece, and it all clicked.

Jaebum.

My teeth gritted and my breathing became ragged. My knuckles turned white as my fist balled up the bed sheet. The cotton ball dropped from my hand and clattered onto the floor. I stood up, my eyes wild and my heartbeat irregular.

"That fucker...."

I slammed the door of the hospital wing open and stormed out. I knew exactly where to find him. I walked out to the veranda and round to the back of the school.

There he was. Standing with his back to the wall, a burning cigarette pursed between his lips. He took a long draw, and pulled it out and released a large amount of smoke through his nose.

He was smoking so carelessly, like nothing had happened, like he hadn't just beaten a boy to death. Hot white fury licked my insides, burning me up. A growl left my mouth.

I was in front of him in a flash and before I realized what I was doing, my fist made contact with his jaw. His head whipped to the side, and a splitting pain burst through my knuckles; I didn't need to look down to know that they were bleeding.

JB spat out blood and raised his head. If I wasn't blind with rage, my heart would have skipped a beat with the look he gave me. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets with fury, blood trickling down the corner of his lips. He bared his teeth in a snarl like an angry dog.

In a split second, it dawned on him who he was glaring at, and the sneer vanished from his face. His eyes that were a while ago, oozing with anger, were now widened with severe shock.