゛𝐯𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬!

five

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 〆 ɟo

in his youth, min yoongi, would come to find that his father had a terrible habit; cheating.

he'd stopped trying to count how many women came and went, and how many times his mother allowed it, a long time ago. he supposed it damaged her. his mother, he meant.

after the sixth affair, she'd keyed the cars.

his father replaced them. then he replaced her.

by the time he'd turned seven, his mother looked at him like a stranger. maybe she'd seen some of his father in him.

yoongi had realized, in his college days, that he wasn't cut perfect either. he'd come to develop his own terrible habit over the years, maybe even worse.

this was his thing; he liked to date poor city girls for short periods of time—usually a week— lavish them and buy them fancy fur coats and pearls and treat them better than the world had ever had, only to dump them. publicly.

that's payback.

but she was different. she'd disobeyed the cookie cutter format he'd been so used to. no, she'd cheated on him. embarrassed him. she'd acted like his father would have; shamelessly and charismatically.

charismatically lying beside him now, hours later, as if absolutely nothing had happened. like she hadn't fucked kim taehyung.

tove had one arm hanging off the leather seat, silent and taunting as she stared him down. yoongi took his eyes off the road for a moment, taking notice of her tiny waist and pale, beauty-marked thighs uncovered by the slit of her black dress. her collarbones and arms had a shimmer to them, as if all celestial beings known to man-kind kissed against her skin. beings which ignited when hit by passing highway street lights.

that was the only delicate thing about tove. everything else, her eyes, her curves, were so... terrifyingly persuasive.

and yet, he couldn't get the two of them out of his head. why had he become so possessive of her? after what she did? was he just childish? or had she made him fall in—

"do you know why they call you the vomit kids?"

yoongi ignored her and looked to the road, searching for home, yet not really hoping for it.

"because you are disgusting."

a small, elegant, scorn-filled giggle escaped her glossed, cupid lips. he snapped his head to her, terrified of all the things she represented.

"fuck you."

"i mean it. all of you," there was a pause. her gulping down drinks that tried to rise back up, "you fuck on million dollar sofas and destroy your liver because you can afford it and you can't lift a finger so you order paycheck-to-paycheck maids to do it for you." she gasped, looking up at the car's roof, eyes filled with tears.

"j-jesus," his whole body tensed, pressed down on the petal harder. accelerate.

the road trailing behind them was a smudged canvas, trying to catch up with the beast as the two left the city behind and headed to where ever home was. if there was one.

truth was, he hadn't known home since his mother, and he hadn't cared for tears since she'd pressed her cheek, stained, against his, that august afternoon, and stole away his home riding in the back of a disappearing taxi.

"a-and i've cried for much less. i've cried for missing shoes and for crooked eyeliner, but my life is much more than that. i can't cry because i know in the end, vomit like you cry for lamborghinis and black cards and for the nannies that loved you harder than your mothers."

another giggle. broken and sad and filled with distress. an overpass up ahead. an escape for darkness.

and as if she hadn't had enough, she continued.

"all i can say is,"

accelerate.

"if i die tonight,"

oh god just accelerate.

"so will—"

the idea of home shattered in one gruesome moment as a heavy and unnatural mass pummelled itself into the windshield and then rolled off onto the roof, depressing the hood in big, loud thumps before disappearing into the night. the speed monster teeters side to side, finding itself enveloped in black.

black like bugatti cars. like the lace of sheer panties. like their hearts. then all again, light— highway street lights.

a fabricated re-entering into the world.

the car screams as it forces a turn into the tarnished and slum ditch. impact once more; this time with a broken, chain link fence that separated the two roads.

and not far from them, lay their kill. a deformed lump of bones warped in all the wrong directions.

this was not home.

not when tove stepped out of the car, dusting the red glass from her shredded dress. not when she stumbled and fell to the ground, a hand reaching for the car door, only to find it covered in a sickeningly warm and familiar paint.

no, not paint.

blood. warm blood.

it's just a deer. yoongi thought, both his hands stuck on the wheel.

and so did she.

she neared the overpass's shadowy existence, finding herself at a moral dilemma; one in which, if she stepped through, there was no going back. one in which, if she turned around and disappeared, she'd be just as bad as them. the men she'd planned to destroy.

she continued on, finding every step more and more agonizing. a deformed lump of bones warped in all the wrong directions.

"oh g-god."

blood. human blood.

2:06am , july 18th 2023.