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Suga had been training him for the past few days.

And really, those movies he had watched were the greatest traitors in life. They made him think that shooting and all the Kung Fu shit were easy as long as you get to learn the hang of it, but no. NO. So far from that, even.

"Shit," he whispered, accidentally hitting the wooden dummy with the bruised part of his hand.

The boy who seemed to be in a secret mission of tiring Jimin to death raised a judgemental eyebrow. Jimin stared back.

Suga had explained that he needed to introduce Jimin on the basics of self-defense since his life was in danger. Jimin needed to learn how to protect himself because nobody knew what would happen. In case things went down to shithole, which Suga said would never happen as long as he's with him, it's good that Jimin could at least fight back.

He was first taught on how to use guns: how to load, reload, shoot bullseye. But Jimin discovered that as much as he was good at singing and even won a few school awards for it, he sucked at handling guns, or anything related. The bullet always ended up meters away from the original target, and he couldn't reload the damn thing with only one hand in a million years.

He sucked badly.

Jimin wondered how his dad learned all this. He's probably laughing at him now from where he was.

On the other hand, he found out that learning hand-to-hand combat techniques were a bit easier, considering that he was a dancer. He found it easy to follow the body coordination needed in fighting, his body doing quick turns and flexible high kicks without any problem. The only bad part was that, it's  still not dancing. And unlike dancing, you'd need to hit real and hard objects.

Now he's got a lot of bruises.

He tried to throw another punch.

Suga smacked his butt, like he always did whenever Jimin did something wrong. He had hit him a lot while he was trying his luck with the gun.

"That's wrong," Suga said. "Move with a purpose. Don't just throw your limbs as if you're blind. Aim pointedly, not randomly."

Jimin glared at him. "You yourself said that this is only for emergency. I don't need to learn everything perfectly! The important thing is that I already know how to use a pistol, revolver, and sniper, and that I already know how to do hand-to-hand combat. I'm not good, but at least!"

Suga looked at him as if he was contemplating.

They've been interacting for a few days now, livinig together in the small house and practicing together in the vast field. Jimin had learned quite a few things about this mysterious boy (including other inappropriate things that Jimin might or might not have learned accidentally and were kept locked in the depth of his mind).

Some of the things he found out was that Suga actually had a sweet tooth and even had a stash of sweets hidden in the topmost cupboard in the kitchen, that he liked white, that he was actually talkative in the right moments, and that he was interested in making music and writing songs.

There were also a few weird thing he learned. Suga didn't dry his hair after every shower and would just let it drip off to the towel around his neck. Suga, in Jimin's annoyance, would bite his lower lip or poke out his tongue to lick his lips if he was thinking about something. And lastly, Suga had a hidden closet of an intimidating collection of firearms. He had a bazooka there, for dear's sake. 

Jimin also learned how hot the boy looked when he was topless and sweaty with his fringe sticking to his forehead, but that was a story for another day.

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