Min Yoongi's POV

Jimin picked up his ringing phone with shakey hands and the booming voice that answered him made him jump in his seat. I can almost hear the other half of the conversation and I conclude it's a male.

"I'm sorry, I- I really am! I had lost track of time after my shoot! I was just offered a really big job that pays a lot! I'm in the middle of the interview right now," he hurriedly explained with a tremble. The person on the other side of the phone just continued to yell at him.

Is he the reason why Jimin is covered in bruises? He ended the call, his entire body shaking violently.
"I-I need to go back home, I'm very sorry," Jimin stood up and picked up the bag at his feet. "Damn it. My car is still at the modeling building," he cursed under his breath, running his hands through his hair anxiously.

"This is my fault. I'll drive you home and I'll send someone to drop your car off as well" I don't even bother placing the papers back into the envelope, I just leave then strewn out on the table. We rush out of my office and back into the elevator.

Jimin is obviously nervous and scared about returning home, and I can infer it's because of the angered man who called him. But why was he upset? What's gonna happen when he gets there? Who was on that call?

I lift my hand up to comfortingly pat him on the shoulder to help ease his worries. As soon as he saw my hand about to touch him he flinches while throwing his arms up protectively. What the hell?

"I'm- I'm so sorry. I thought you were gonna...." he looked everywhere but my eyes.
"Hit you?" He didn't respond. "Who was that on the phone Mr. Park?" Everything about him gave off a terrified aura. Just then the elevator door opened and people filed in as we stepped out. Jimin remained quiet until I started my car. He still wore an expression of fear, but he finally looked me in the eyes.

"It was my b-boyfriend. He was just worried that I didn't come home in time. He's really over protective. Please don't mind him," he timidly answered me. He's lying. But the silent plea of help can be seen flickering in his eyes from a mile away, like a beacon. I can't let him go home if his boyfriend is in fact hurting him.

"Are you sure you would like to go home? I could arrange for you to stay somewhere else. The company ensures each employee's safety" I attempt to persuade him. He wrapped his small hands around himself in a lonely hug as his beautiful eyes brim with tears,
"Yea. I'm sure. Please take me home," he mumbled.

As he requested, I exited the lot and took the quickest route to the address he gave me. I'm not sure if I should say anything.... I glanced at him as I sped down the freeway, by far surpassing the speed limit. He was staring out the window as a single tear trailed down his cheek. I clenched my teeth together, frustrated that the man waiting at his house for him is most likely the reason Jimin's skin is bruised black and blue.

The frightened model beside me started to tremble as more tears fell. I'm not going to just let this happen.

"Is he the one hurting you?" I finally urged the question that has been flashing red in my mind. He turned to me, but his lips never moved. "Mr. Park, I can understand if this is a sensitive subject, but I'm asking for your honesty. If you're going to accept the job, then the corporation will make sure you're safe. But I can't do that unless I know what I'll be keeping you safe from"

"Yes. He is," Jimin looked down.
"Have you reported him? He-"
"No, I haven't. I would never do that. I deserve getting hit. He does it to teach me, because he l-loves me," he cuts me off, spewing at the mouth with what I can only call nonsense. My knuckles turn white as I grasp the steering wheel.

"How do you 'deserve' getting abused? How the hell does being beaten teach you anything? Nobody should ever have to go through that!" Memories play behind my eyes as I raise my voice, "Being abused teaches you nothing but fear and hate. If he really loved you, would he continue treating you like that? That isn't love, Mr. Park." Jimin coward in the seat beside me as I yelled. He fixated his teary eyes upon mine as he mustered up some courage and rebuttled.

"Says the guy who wants me to submit to him and sign a BDSM contract," his broken tone echoed in my head. "My house is right here," he dried his face and unbuckled as I pulled up to the sidewalk in front of a small home.

"Let me help you," I begged, hoping he would stay and let me take him somewhere safer. He ignored me as he stepped out of the car and walked up the steps leading to the large white door. A taller man swung open the door and slapped Jimin harshly across the face, almost making him fall, before glaring at me and dragging the model inside by the wrist.

"Shit!" I scream in frustration as pound my hands on the black steering wheel. I need to help him, but he won't accept it. I push down on the gas petal and head home for the day. I wasn't paying attention to the traffic lights until it flickered red. I slam on the breaks. A rattle can be heard as a bag rolls out from under the passanger seat. I pick up the item that quite obviously doesn't belong to me. Jimin forgot to take his bag...

Feeding into my curiosity about the rattling, I open it and find 3 small bottles.

Tylenol,
Xanax,
and
Celexa.

"God damn it!"