The Street Child (Min Yoongi)

Chapter 28: Agitation

"When will you come back?"

I straightened up and looked at the boy who was sitting on the bed, a frown etched on his forehead, his thin lips morphed in a slight pout.

"I don't know, Yoongi."

He stood up and walked towards me, placing his hands on my waist and brushing his nose breezily against mine.

"Please be careful," he whispered against my lips.

I pressed our mouths closer together, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him to myself further until our chests touched and our breaths mingled.

He broke the kiss softly, clasping my fingers tightly in his.

"I love you, Yuna."

A gentle smile spread on my lips, I placed my hand on his cheek and stroked his face with the pad of my thumb.

"I love you, too, Yoongi."

He smiled sadly and pulled me into a hug, rubbing his face in my hair and inhaling deeply.

I froze in his embrace, a sudden chill running across my body.

"How's my favourite person doing?"

I giggled, throwing my hands around him and resting my head on his chest. He chuckled fondly, his delicate eyes crinkling. His nose rubbed my hair as he inhaled my scent.

"Ah, my favourite smell in the world."

Clenching my jaw, my eyes turning cold, I detached myself from Yoongi's clutch and took a step backwards, brushing my hands across my shirt to straighten out invisible creases.

Quickly picking up my bag from the bed, I cleared my throat and walked out of the room, stopping as I reached the door.

I looked back at him, and my heart screamed in my chest.

His curve-moulded eyes glistened with unshed tears, and I remembered why he was standing before me in the first place.

It was this look, that made me fall deeper and deeper into his story. It was this stare, that made me determined to hold his hand in mine. It was these eyes that reminded me of him so much, that the guilt of falling in love again was eating me alive. It was gnawing at my gut, my chest, and my heart. It clawed at the memories that I had buried inside my head years ago, never to be unearthed again, and brought them in a swirl of storm that crashed in front of me all over again. Memories that I never wanted to reminisce again. Memories of him. Of us.

"G-Goodbye, Yoongi."

He raised his hand silently, dropping it back to his side with a heavy sigh.

I gave him a watery smile and turned away before he could see the tears welling up in my eyes. I wiped at my eyes and sniffled.

As my feet trudged forwards and my hand wrapped around the door knob, my chest contracted painfully.

This time, I wasn't sure why.

. . .

"Is this Kim Jongin's office?"

The good-looking guy who seemed to be around my age, clad in a well ironed suit and tie, gave me a polished smile.

"Yes, it is. And who might you be?" He asked, inclining his head politely.

"I'm here to meet him for a personal reason," I replied curtly, not intending to give him further details.

"Personal reasons, eh?" He smirked.

I frowned at him in distaste.

"I didn't stutter."

His eyebrows jumped slightly in surprise, and he laughed.

"My apologies, madam. Come with me, I'll escort you to your destination."

He offered me his hand, however, I ignored his advances and made my way towards the stairs, making sure to mask my increasing anxiety with non chalance.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw him shake his head with a scoff, a small smile still playing at his lips.

"If that's how you like it," he sang teasingly. "Here we go, then."

Climbing three steps at a time, he quickly overcame our distance and walked ahead of me, shuffling to open the door, tripping and almost meeting the floor with his face.

I barely paid attention to his desperate attempts, and took deep breaths to calm myself down.

This is it. The man who ruined Yoongi's life is behind that door.

My hand reached out and pushed open the door shakily.

And there he sat, twirling his sleek pen in his hand. His head, absent of a single trace of old age, snapped up.

There sat, smiling coldly, the man I hated.

My father.