Don't Wanna Be Your Boy | Yoonmin

13

Scared.

That's how Jimin looked.

Everything in him was terrified, and Yoongi could see that, feel the fear radiating off of his small, shaking form. He was huddled up against the window with his legs curled into his heaving chest, his shoulders caving in on his lungs, breaths leaving his plump, bitten lips in ragged gasps. His cheeks were bright with an almost unhealthy flush and his muscles locked, spasming flinching at the smallest sounds. His rapid exhales created foggy clouds over the glass, little fingers twisting and turning nervously over each other, eyes flitting back to the unconscious boy laying in the backseat.

He drove carefully, trying to keep his gaze on the road and the conversation light, but he could hear how tense Jimin was, how afraid he was, the cold seeping into his shaky words.

He just wanted to pull over, and hold him, and protect him from everything and everyone.

His chest still burned, flames still scattered underneath his sugar white skin at the thought of what he'd seen a few minutes ago.

Jimin trembling so hard he could barely stand, sobbing desperately, awful, pained cries ripping from his mouth, tearing through the air, crystals coating his lashes, struggling weakly against a clearly drunk boy with his hand down his pants.

He'd never been so angry in his entire life.

It was so incredibly lucky that Yoongi lived near that area. So incredibly lucky that he'd stayed late at the studio to help Namjoon with some lyrics, and had come home late enough to even find them there.

And god, Jimin looked so fucking scared, and that hurt more than Yoongi thought anything could.

"Who is he?" He couldn't help but ask, wondering why he shouldn't kill the boy right then and there, why Jimin had insisted he take him home, after what he did, what he was still doing to him.

Jimin immediately froze at the question. Like a doe caught in the headlights of a careening vehicle, he sucked in a sharp breath, nails digging into his soft palms and leaving imprints over the smooth skin.

Yoongi wished he hadn't said anything.

But Jimin answered anyway, staring at the passing scenery as he forced the words out.

"He's my boyfriend."

Yoongi paused, pinching his candy stained lips, cat like eyes narrowing. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he tried to shove down his rising anger.

He wouldn't try to analyze someone else's relationship.

And he would never ever tell Jimin what to do.

But as the boy made a small noise, low voice resonating through the car, and Jimin jumped, a whimper falling past his lips, clutching his pounding heart, and sighing in relief when he realized he wasn't stirring, he knew one thing for sure.

You weren't supposed to be scared of your own boyfriend.