Illegal | nct

III

Areum's POV

"Oh joy!" I exclaimed with the most fake voice ever. "I'm so glad you think that!"

A look of confusion was replaced with a look of pain as I drove my heel down onto his foot. Taeyong yelped in pain before backing away from me, hopping backwards on one foot before taking support of the opposite wall. His cat-eyes gave me a cold, hard glare. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?" His breathing now slightly uneven from the excruciating hop across the ground.

I smirked as i approached the injured man-kitten. He stood up fully now, trying to mask the pain but failing horribly. "Aw, did that hurt too much?" I purred at him and lifted his chin up to face me. A look of fear washed over him as I did so. Bringing my face uncomfortably close to Taeyong's, I whispered, "There's this line, honey, let's call it personal space," I stroked his soft silver locks gently as I spoke, the tiny drop of fear still hadn't evaporated from his beautiful face, "you just crossed it," I said, my voice raising just above a whisper, "and that's a bad, bad thing."

And with those last few words, I let go of his chin and tuned on my heels, walking back out into the open. I half-expected that I would be pulled or called back by Taeyong, but when that didn't happen, I smiled to myself, a triumphant smile.

Damn it felt good to be a gangsta.

――

I checked my watch and broke into a sprint towards the direction of my apartment, streetlights dimly illuminating the asphalt before me. I glanced back down at my watch, 5 minutes to 12.

The soft thudding of my old sneakers on the ground grew louder as I increased my pace. I couldn't be a minute late, not now, not ever. I turned the corner of a block, my breathing becoming erratic due to the draining physical activity. Just a few more buildings down, I still have two minutes until he comes back.

I picked up my pace and jogged towards the building, stopping for a brief moment to catch my breath before bounding up the stairs to the 3rd floor. Panting and dehydrated, I flung the door to the stairwell open. Taking a right, I was back at my flat. Pulling the key out of my back pocket, I inserted it into the keyhole and turned it once. The handle twisted and I opened the door, throwing my small backpack off to the side.

I wandered across the dark hall dragging my fingers against the wall until I found the switchboard. I flicked a switch on and was met with my worst nightmare.

My father sat wasted on the ground, a green alcohol bottle in his hand, his back lying against the hard wall. He looked up at me and pure rage was all I saw. Now was a good time to pray to the gods above.

"Running about at such odd hours of the night isn't safe, didn't your mother teach you that? Or had she died too soon to even teach you proper manners."

My hands balled into fists at the mention of my mother. My teeth clenched together in an effort to keep the string of insults in my mouth. Glaring at the old geezer, I let out a forced breath. I knew better than to fight back, it would just lead to more pain and agony, as if i didn't already have enough.