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—am i just imagining?
OCTOBER 4: MIN YOONGI
==
"turn the fuck around and drop that knife."
despite the fact that min yoongi himself holds a handgun between his shaking fingers, he can't help but feel like the one at a disadvantage in the situation. circumstances aside, he is actually quite capable of defending himself; not every cashier at local convenience stores knows how to wield and shoot a gun, yet here he is.
maybe it's just yoongi's sheer, rotten luck for his awful shift time (why did he have to drop out of college? working in old, ratty stores until twelve a.m is definitely not something he wished for), but he's encountered plenty of thieves before. sometimes they carry old baseball bats on their shoulders, or sometimes a few blades hooked to leather belts, and occasionally a gun itself.
whatever the case, yoongi ends up chewing them out with several colorful curses in a long, continuous chain, and then—in a finishing touch—shoots a few empty rounds from his handgun. the moment most people see the barrel whiplash forward and then back, they get the hell out of the store.
but then. this kid in front of yoongi—he isn't like most people. at all.
"i said," yoongi has to use all of his effort to keep the tremor out of his voice, "put that fucking knife down, you hear? i'll shoot. i don't allow weapons in this store."
the guy is staring at his fingers, a long and—to yoongi's sheer horror—rusted blade in his large hands. he continues to walk slowly up the aisle, white shirt stained with something akin to phelgm, maybe. yoongi swallows and clasps his hands tighter on the firearm, finger wavering precariously over the trigger, and he steps away from the counter.
"who the hell are you? i'll call the cops! get the fuck away from here!"
the boy continues to ignore yoongi's threats. he finally stops walking a mere three or so feet away from the counter, and then he looks up.
it's the same, really: bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, sickly skin, grungy hair. yoongi has seen it countless times before. and yet—this guy, this bastard has him erupting in goosebumps, lungs frozen to ice, throat parched and burning. he finds himself stuck in place, unsure of what to do.
"stay...back..." yoongi manages to choke out. just call the police, you dumbass! the phone is right there!
but he can't. and he doesn't know why. because as soon as that guy places his practically translucent hands on the counter and stares at yoongi with a semi-gaping mouth, yoongi can't move.
