A Better Tomorrow 2/?
A/N: Thank you tagsquared for edit!
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The moment when Yoongi realizes his mother is serious was somehow unimaginable, a fail.
“What?” he asks, not wanting to believe her words. Was she insane or something? It’s not like she was that old.
“Don’t talk to me like that!” she hisses. Oh. He didn´t realize he said that one aloud.
“So you just decided he will be living in our house from now on? Do I have no say in this?” Yoongi snaps back, and even though he knew he’ll regret it later, he couldn’t help it but argue.
“For god’s sake Yoongi! He’s seventeen! What is he supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, perhaps move to Busan like his crazy parents did?” the boy bites back angrily, not liking the whole situation.
“You know very well that they can´t afford to pay the tuition! If he leaves, he´ll lose the scholarship he is on now.”
“So you are saying that we can afford to pay for food and bills for him? We can’t even pay ours Mom!”
“Leave paying bills to me, son! The only thing I want from you is to act like an adult and make some space for the boy, because you will be sharing your room with him from now on. That’s my final word!” his mother said harshly, before turning away and suddenly leaving the room. Well, what the fuck…
There are only few things Yoongi likes, but many of those which he hates. For example, school. And Thursdays, those are pain in the ass too. Like this one, which passes too slowly for his liking, especially those forty minutes he spent over one particular half-empty sheet of paper, which was supposed to be an essay for his literature class. The teacher was “so kind” and gave him and Hoseok one more chance to prove their knowledge in required reading, since they were absent the last time. Of course, Yoongi still hasn’t read those shitty books. Not a single letter. What were their titles again?
What pissed him off the most was that the fucker Hoseok got an A again. How the hell did he manage to do that? If he remembers correctly, and he fucking does, it was the younger whom he got wasted with the day before yesterday. He may have been puking like a camel back then, but he clearly remembers that Hoseok said he hasn’t read any of that crap yet, either. Up to now, Yoongi considered himself highly intelligent, so the fact he went out of this like a loser makes him want to punch something. Or someone.
“Let’s hang out somewhere.” he says at lunch, ignoring the look some freshman sitting by Hoseok throws at him. He swears he’s going to hit him if he too begins with the moral talk; he’s not in the mood for that today.
As it turns out the freshman, or Kim Taehyung, as he calls himself, has that weird look permanently plastered across his face, because an hour later, crouched behind the old garage near Hoseok’s apartment, he’s still pulling that face while trying to roll a joint.
“Wow, I wouldn’t have known you’re into that shit.” Yoongi remarks as he watches the kid struggling with the weed. Hoseok seems to be busy answering some text on his phone and the silence without his lame jokes and blabbering is slowly becoming awkward.
“You want some?” the younger offers him and he scrunches his nose immediately.
“No thanks, I don’t think I’m that desperate yet.” he cuts him off, but it comes out a bit more ironic than he intended. Hoseok tore his gaze from his phone, now looking between them, not completely grasping the situation.
“So you mean having your brain on a leash every other day isn’t desperate? It’s not like alcohol is healthier sunbae.” Taehyung beams, and the urge to punch someone is suddenly back and stronger in Yoongi´s mind, now pictured as a boy with bleached hair. Did Hoseok tell him?
Losing is another term Yoongi despises, because it makes him feel inferior. Coming home that day feels exactly the same, and he knows he’s already there just by opening the front door. There are boxes with his name all over them on the floor and that dumb red scarf is hanging from the place where his own coat is supposed to be. That stupid brat is already annoying. Not bothering to say hello, he walks straight to his room, paying extra attention to slamming of the door so the others know that he is deliberately ignoring them.
His room is a mess too,as he has predicted it would, but it still pisses him off. His wardrobe is moved to the left and there is another bed stuck between his own and the wall, not even an inch separating them because lack of space. It’s seemingly brand new, as there are still pieces of foil randomly stuck on it.That at least explains the shitty smell of someone felling a pine tree…
There are also few boxes and two suitcases, a basketball, a bunch of snapbacks, and headphones on top of the pile, and it makes the already small room look even more crowded.
If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that the kid’s parents are rich, because those headphones are the exact same model he looked up on ebay few days ago, and they aren’t cheap at all. Rummaging through his school backpack, Yoongi pulls out his own headphones out and lies himself on the bed. Only then doeshe realize that on the side of his wardrobe hangs what seems to be a freshly ironed school uniform, an exact copy of the one he is wearing now.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
If speaking of Friday, it’s one of those few things Yoongi likes. Whether it’s because he always skips school on that day, or just for the fact the weekend is coming, it’s still his most favorite day of week.
Well, was.
It’s fucking 7 o’clock in the morning and there is noise. Rustling. As if some dumb idiot would try his best to creep out of the room in silence, but would miserably fail. He is dragging his feet, too. And then he’s knockingover that pile of garbage he brought with him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Yoongi growls, still half asleep, as he slowly sits up.
There, in the centre of the mess is the kid, looking panicked and disoriented. It must be freezing outside, because it’s too early and its only March, but he was wearing a tank top and shorts. His black hair was a bit mussed and he looked like he just woken up. Was he wearing knee high socks?!
“Sorry, I just…sorry.” he blabbered.
“Shut up or get out, I want to sleep!” Yoongi growls once again. What was the idiot even doing over there? What was his name again…Jimin? It doesn’t matter, because he fell asleep right away, when the boy finally left the room. It was only a half hour later untilhe was woken up again.
Jimin was frantically rummaging through one of his suitcases, searching for god knows what. One of his hands was occupied with holding a mug while the other was pulling various items out of the suitcase and tossing them around after he discovered they weren’t what he was searching for.
There is a moment when Yoongi thinks that biting the blanket would help him to relieve some of his anger, but when the other’s phone goes off suddenly, it’s the last straw for him and he decides he’s going to punch him for sure now. Did he just put that fucking mug on his lyrics folder?
***
“Shit.” he hisses. It’s 9 o’clock now, too early for him to be awake. The house is already empty, but instead of sleeping, he is wide awake because of certain someone who was making racket earlier.
Now thinking of it, Yoongi sat up for the second time in that morning, just to see the state his room was left in. It was probably a mistake, because when he saw all of the mess the younger left behind, new wave of anger overcame him. There were clothes everywhere, on the bed, on the floor, carelessly hanging off of the chair or the door handle. Was he out of his mind when he’d left for school?
It was only the first day, but he was pain in the ass already. He needs to set some rules. Yep, that’s the only solution, he thinks as he slowly crawls out of the bed to take a piss. He realizes he is still in his school uniform and the headphones are entangled with the blanket and buttons on his shirt. He hates waking up with headphone buds under his ribs.
He took a shower and after that he found his mother had left some breakfast for them before she left. She probably did it because of Jimin, as she never made breakfast for Yoongi. Well, not after she discovered that he had been feeding the neighborhood dogs with sandwiches she made for him. But it wasn´t his fault, she always made too much and Yoongi was already fed up with them. And it was like sixth grade too…
A few hours laterhe ended up crashing at Namjoon’s place because Hoseok wasn’t picking up his phone for some reason. Seriously, he was acting weird lately. Could the blond kid have something to do with it?
Eventually, he came to conclusion that it was indeed that kid’s fault, because he found the two of them sprawled on the floor in Namjoon’s room the second he stepped in. They were high as fuck, probably smoking the same shit Taehyung was offering him yesterday, and Namjoon being no exception joined them even though he looked he wasn’t affected by the side effects at all.
“So how is the new guy?” he asked, looking not even a slightly bit curious, but Yoongi knew this was just his usual face expression. Still, he didn’t feel like talking at all with that weird 4D guy around.
“He´s dumb. And wears knee high socks.” he mutters after a short while and somehow, the joint that was lazily hanging off from Namjoon’s fingers seemed interesting. His only response is a silent hum coming from the latter as an acknowledgment that he is listening.
“I mean…who the fuck would buy a snapback in ten different colors?” he continues while watching Namjoon take another drag. After that it was silent for a while, and he would have almost forgotten that Hoseok and Taehyung were there too.
“You have hots for him or something?”
Almost…