“Mr. Min, would you care to explain your actions?”
Min Yoongi shoots a bored glance at the handsome counselor seated across from him. His hair is a jet black, the fringes falling over his smooth skin. The sharp features of his face set him apart from most men his age, a trait which undoubtedly contributes to the self-confidence Yoongi understands all too well. A frown is currently creasing his forehead and Kim Seokjin may look unrealistically attractive but the student knows his temper is not to be trifled with.
The university’s Head Counselor, Dr. Kim is revered by the students and faculty alike. It is not just his easygoing demeanor but also his compassion and relentless drive to help those who need it.
It is a pity Yoongi wants nothing to do with him.
His eyes skim over the ornate desk cluttered with files and charts, and one of them catches his attention. Min Yoongi is printed on it in a sprawling font and he knows it is his counseling record. Resisting the urge to snatch the document and subsequently shredding it to bits, he rocks back and forth in his chair, refusing to meet Dr. Kim’s pointed glare.
“Well? Why did you beat Mr. Kang up?”
Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly, counting the number of stars dotting the shirt Seokjin has donned underneath his expensive blazer. “He pissed me off.”
The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, his patience beginning to fray. Yoongi has never been easy. He wonders why the Principal insists on him attending these sessions when they clearly don’t seem to be having any effect. Seokjin feels like he’s going to lose his mind. “Do you make it a point to beat up everyone who pisses you off?”
Yoongi finally looks at him, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “More or less.”
“Look, Yoongi, I know you hate seeing me. But I genuinely want to help.” Even though you make me want to tear my hair out, Seokjin refrains from adding. “How am I supposed to do that if you won’t talk to me?”
The brazen student’s face darkens. “I can’t be helped.” His eyes flit over the burgundy curtains lying still against the windows, the bright sunshine permeating the silk folds and illuminating the room enough to curb the use of lights. And yet, the doctor makes no move to turn them off.
“Yoongi, this is your final year at the university. You’ll be graduating soon and I want you to be able to do that without being bogged down by other matters. Won’t you consider talking to me about what happened two years ago?” Seokjin tries to prod, his hands splaying before him in a placating motion.
But the brown-haired man remains silent and he picks at the threads of his ripped jeans. The air in the room is heavy and Seokjin feels like one jolt can bring the roof down on their heads. He leans over his desk, accidentally knocking over a writing pad. It clatters to the ground with a resounding thud and jerks Yoongi out of whatever reverie he has ensconced himself in. It is nothing novel for the doctor; Yoongi has never once opened up to him about anything.
He rises, pushing his chair back and straightening his shirt. Shrugging into the bomber jacket draped over the seat beside him, he smiles at the doctor insincerely. “I’ll get going now. Wouldn’t take a genius to know how much we despise each other’s company.”
Seokjin looks pained. “That’s not true at all and-”
But the door to his quaint office slams shut before he can finish. Burying his head in his palms, he groans loudly while Yoongi slings his bag over his shoulder once he has exited the room. He begins to stride down the deserted hallway when a petite figure bumps into him.
Kim Miran looks startled to see Yoongi but she quickly composes herself, smiling at him. Yoongi scowls. “Can’t you watch where you’re fucking going?”
It is her turn to scowl now. “What the hell has gotten into your pants, sugar?” Yoongi hears her say as he disappears around the corner. But he doesn’t once look back.
Miran sighs, brushing her hair out of her eyes and pushing the door open. She chuckles sympathetically when she sees Seokjin slumped over his desk, his head clutched in his hands.
“I take it Min Yoongi didn’t exactly go easy on you,” she teases lightly, occupying the chair the student has just vacated. She can still smell the pinewood perfume wafting in his wake.
Her eldest sibling raises his head morosely and rubs his face. “When does he ever? I’m surprised Dad hasn’t had him expelled yet.”
Theirs is a family of five: Miran’s parents, Seokjin, Taehyung and her. Though she tries hard to keep their relation a secret, not because she doesn’t want to be associated with the rich counselor and the even richer Directors of the university, but because she dreads having people speak to her only because of her influential family.
Taehyung has never minded; he openly flaunts his relationship with their handsome brother. But even he avoids acknowledging his position as the son of Kim Jaesung and Yuna, the current directors of the board, whenever he can. The twins already have too many acquaintances who aren’t as genuine as they make themselves out to be.
“Was he here because of the fight?” she asks Seokjin. Despite everything, Miran loves spending time with her brother and sneaks into his office whenever she has the chance to slip away unnoticed. But he looks weary today and she doesn’t have to think hard to gauge the reason.
Seokjin nods. “I just wish he would talk to me, you know? But he’s like a barricaded wall which just won’t let its guard down.”
Miran reaches across the desk to pat his hand and some of the worry in his face seems to ease. “Hey, you’ll get through to him. Remember how much you helped Namjoon,” she reminds him encouragingly, rubbing soothing circles on his palm.
“Namjoon wanted to be helped, Mi-ah. There’s a difference,” he counters, recalling the extreme anxiety and stress his sister’s friend has grappled with in the past. Seokjin also remembers how valiantly Namjoon has battled his inner demons and still does to this day, vanquishing them one by one.
But Yoongi seems to revel in his devilry.
Miran doesn’t give up. “I know you can do it. You always find a way. Just keep trying, okay?” She squeezes his hand and Seokjin squeezes back, a small smile on his face. The tension in the room has dissipated due to his sister’s lively presence and optimistic outlook. But he notices the slight twitch of her lips.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, concerned when he watches Miran’s smile vanish.
But she laughs it off. “Does something have to be wrong for me to want to visit my brother?”
“Says the girl who avoids me like the plague at all other times. I’m hurt, you know.” He pouts but Miran only chortles harder. She swivels in her chair, something she has loved doing since she was a child. The room spins in a blur of blue and violet with the furniture revolving in her peripheral vision.
“Jimin and I broke up.”
Seokjin doesn’t say anything for a while, too stunned to speak. But he finds his voice after a few strained minutes. “Why?”
Miran tells him, about the scholarship, about their promise, about how she knew this day would inevitably arrive. “This was bound to happen, so I’m not too bothered.”
But her brother looks doubtful. He is aware of how much Jimin means to her. “Are you sure?” He has always been able to read Miran like a book and he knows his sister isn’t as jovial as she is pretending to be.
She nods and bites her lower lip, trying to look as convincing as possible. Jimin will leave in a couple of days and today was his last as a student of Seoul National University. He, Miran and their friends have celebrated in the most unconventional of manners and she wonders why she doesn’t feel sad. She is certainly upset at having one of her best friends move away. But she is not heartbroken. Especially not over the breakup.
Miran wonders why all she feels is relief.
***
The greenhouse adjacent to the university cafeteria is dark and silent. The place has been cordoned off following the discovery of Choi Ara and a certain gloom seems to have permeated the very walls of the building, each crevice and corner tainted with malice. It is not a very tall structure, about two-storeys high and is encapsulated within transparent glass walls which currently reflect the hooded form of Miran.
She slinks closer to the building, careful to avoid stepping on any broken twigs or other equally damning object which could alert someone to her presence. It is past eleven and she knows the guards and cops are patrolling the grounds at this very minute.
But thanks to Yoongi, the security personnel are concentrated at the Boys’ Dormitory for the time being and the greenhouse is deserted. Though Miran cannot spot any guards in sight, she knows it is foolish of her to trespass what is essentially a crime scene, but her insatiable curiosity gets the better of her.
Pulling the black hood tighter over her head, she carefully slips under the yellow tapes strung from one end of the entrance to the other. Miran’s eyes travel over the looming structure carefully, and she wonders what Choi Ara might have been doing here this late on that fateful night. A rendezvous, perhaps? Had she known her killer?
Stepping over a cluster of rocks collected at the base of the hewn path, Miran is about to reach for the door-handle when a hand clamps over her mouth.
“They’re not lying when they say that the murderer always returns to the scene of the crime,” a male voice whispers in her ear, his tone eerie and his words slurred. Miran catches the whiff of a scent she finds vaguely familiar but she is frozen in place, her mind going utterly blank as memories of a dark room, a blindfold, and the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against her head float into view.
But then instinct and years of self-defense training with Jimin kick in, and she jabs her elbow in the man’s stomach, whirling in his grasp to land a swift punch to his jaw. Her assailant staggers backwards, his lip cut and bleeding and he curses vehemently.
“What the fuck?” he growls, holding his injured jaw and meeting Miran’s gaze. Her eyes widen when she recognizes Min Yoongi, his mop of brown hair plastered to his forehead, his chest heaving underneath the sweatshirt he is clad in. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
Miran hisses in frustration, unable to believe the sight before her. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Yoongi replies evenly, wiping the blood off his chin. He is about to say something else when footsteps echo across the gravel and a flash of light bathes the greenhouse in a ghostly hue. “Shit,” he mutters, grabbing Miran’s arm and hauling her out the gates. She doesn’t protest when he lugs her along with him, crouching behind an overgrown bush jutting upwards a few paces from the entrance.
The guards shout, their approaching figures retreating into the greenhouse and Yoongi seizes the chance to run, dragging Miran with him. They sprint down the cobbled pathway, pebbles crunching beneath their feet loudly but she can tell he doesn’t care. The two seek respite in a football field, the empty bleachers providing the camouflage they need to conceal themselves. But once Miran is sure no one is following, she crawls out of the hiding spot and glares at the unaffected man.
“Why were you there?” she demands forcefully but Yoongi looks as unruffled as ever. He pulls out a cigarette from the pocket of his trousers and lights it up, the puffs of smoke curling in wisps around him.
“Like I said, I could ask you the same question.” There is no brightness save for a lone tube light embedded into the lamppost beside the bleachers and Yoongi’s eyes sparkle with something other than indifference for the first time. “Returning to check if you had left any incriminating evidence lying around?”
Miran huffs indignantly, swatting away the cigarette smoke. “You can’t be serious,” she mumbles, squinting at the man sprawled comfortably on the seats, absolutely undaunted.
“Then tell me what you were doing at a murder scene at this time of night,” he says easily, shooting her a blank look.
But she crosses her arms over her chest and smirks. “I don’t owe you any explanation,” she echoes his own statement.
Yoongi stares at Miran for a minute and then indulges in a rare moment of laughter. “I knew you had spunk but mouthing my words at me? You have more guts than people give you credit for,” he remarks, serious again, but the light in his eyes doesn’t diminish. He leans back, flinging the cigarette butt to the ground and stomping on it with his heel. “I was passing by the greenhouse and I saw you sneaking in. I thought it might be someone of interest and what better way to get those authoritative pricks off my back than by holding the Directors' daughter’s questionable actions as leverage?”
Miran stiffens, a wary glint in her eyes. Yoongi knows who she is. He watches her expression and shrugs. “It’s not that difficult to figure out. You’re not exactly being very inconspicuous,” he points out drily but she takes a step back.
“I was there because I was curious,” she finally admits tersely, hating herself for being riled up by this infuriating man. No wonder her brother is having such a hard time. Yoongi can drive even a saint insane. “And I was wondering if I might find something.”
“Find something when the cops have already scoured the place with a fine tooth and comb?” he asks in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up. “Fancy yourself as Nancy Drew much?”
Miran rolls her eyes but continues, “We helped each other out last year with a volunteering program. She wasn’t a friend, but she was a good person and one of the very few who was…”
“Nice to you without expecting anything in return?” Yoongi questions and Miran nods slowly. “Not exactly a story the cops will buy but they might lap it up if you spill a few tears to go with it.”
Miran glowers at him. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know? I could just tell them that you dragged me in there to murder me. Let's see if they believe you over the Directors' daughter as you put it."
But Yoongi only laughes. He rises and ambles towards her. “Ah, she cusses, too.” He is standing too close, and Miran involuntarily inhales the pinewood scent imbued in his skin. “Fine then, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Why? When you could just go to the cops and report me for trying to break into the greenhouse?” she challenges, fuming and raging and her heart is out of control. But she doesn’t know if it is Yoongi’s galling statements or his close proximity to her.
He doesn’t back away. “Why would I do that? When I could blackmail you instead?”
“Fuck you,” she responds furiously, turning away and stalking towards the Girls’ Dormitory. But instead of swearing back at her as Miran expects him to, Yoongi says something which makes her heart skip several beats.
“I don't mind. You did break up with your boyfriend.”
***
What do y'all think of the dynamic between Yoongi and Miran? Too early to tell? Let me know your thoughts!
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