Yoongi's POV

After, he went back to the studio and spent a couple hours there before coming back home. He found her in the bedroom. He felt nervous but motioned for her to join him on the floor. She looked at him curiously and sat cross-legged in front of him. He had the shopping bag from earlier next to him and pulled out the thick textbook, handing it to her. Her eyes went wide and he saw that look he'd seen when they had first stood outside of the bookstore. He kinda liked that one. But then....it changed to one of depression and resignation. He didn't like that one.

"Bad tutor." She laughed softly and nodded.

Gomawayo." She said and gave a short bow.

The next morning he stayed later than he normally did to intercept her tutor. He wasn't sure if she came at the same time every day so he just sat in the living room, thinking. Was it possible to get out of this mess? BigHit's lawyers had already looked into it and told him he was stuck. And yet he couldn't accept it. Did he really have to spend the rest of his life like this? Under his uncle's thumb? He looked towards the bedroom. In some ways this felt like discovering you've fathered a child and having it plopped in your lap. She was completely defenseless. The only one who had any idea what she was going through was him. And he didn't want the responsibility. But he couldn't just abandon her either, this wasn't her fault.

The tutor just walked in, key card in hand. She stopped suddenly on seeing him. His heart was pounding but he forced himself to hold out his hand calmly.

"I'll take that." He was glad his voice didn't sound shaky. Years of being famous were now coming in handy.

"I have my orders." She protested. He took a deep breath, walked up and took it from her.

"Your services are no longer required. I've found someone else." She fixed him with a glare but didn't move.

"I answer to your uncle, not you. You don't get to fire me."

"This is my house and I've decided you're no longer welcome."

"No, this is your uncle's house. He pays for it. He pays for everything." She said informally, smirking. He clenched his fist, but not at her disrespectful behavior. She was right. His uncle did pay for everything.

"I'm not leaving, give me the key card back." She held her hand out to him but looked past him, a look of disgust on her face. He turned slightly to see Y/N standing there. Their conversation must've woken her up. "She is ungrateful and stupid and she doesn't even understand the opportunities she's been handed. All she does is cry..." Yoongi felt his anger rising.

"I'm sure you'd cry too if you'd been kidnapped, trapped in a foreign land, and married off without your consent." He snapped. "Leave."

"Ahnee." The tutor sat on the edge of the sofa. "I'm not leaving until I get that card back and the lesson is completed. You have no authority over here. Get over it." He was so shocked by her brazenness he didn't reply and just felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was then that suddenly an idea came to him. He'd been told to get his wife in order, right? All he was really doing was following orders. He turned, grabbed Y/N by the arm and dragged her to the bedroom.

"Hey..." He let her go, grabbed one of her suitcases, and started piling stuff into it.

"What are you doing?" She asked, rubbing her arm where he'd grabbed it. He must've gripped it tighter than he realized.

"Sorry." He apologized. Didn't have time for more than that. "We are leaving."

"What? Where?" He ignored her and pulled out his phone, calling the band's manager.

"I don't care what it costs, find me an apartment right now, please." Then he messaged the tutor from yesterday and rescheduled the class for later today. She still looked confused but began quickly packing anyway. Yoongi wondered why he hadn't thought of this before. He called a hotel and reserved a room. The tutor tried to come in but he pushed the bedroom door closed and locked it.

"I will call your uncle !" She yelled through the door.

"I don't care." Y/N wasn't even properly dressed but they didn't have time. He called his manager again to have a low-profile car and security sent. He could hear her on the phone, probably talking to his uncle's adviser.

After about 10 minutes he got a text that they were here. They couldn't get in without the key card though. He took her hand and gave her a faint, reassuring smile. He could tell his intensity and the yelling of the tutor scared her.

Normally he wouldn't touch a woman he barely knew like this but he had no idea what the tutor was going to do. He threw the door open suddenly and wrapped his arm around Y/N's waist, barging past the tutor. She tried to grab her student but he wrenched Y/N away and practically ran to the front door, opening it. Y/N was gripping his shoulder, her hand a vice, but she kept up. The security stepped between them and the tutor, one motioned to the hallway.

"This way, please."

"Thank you. Please get her bags."

"Yes, sir."

It wasn't until they got to the car that he realized he was shaking and had a death grip around Y/N's hand and waist. He was probably crushing her, he realized. He hastily let go, stepping back, and she climbed into the car first. He found himself holding his breath until all the bags had been brought down and they were driving towards the hotel. He stayed tense until they were in the hotel room. Two of the guards stood outside the room and two were in the lobby, keeping a lookout.

Y/N didn't look at him, just pulled some clothes out of one of the suitcases and went to the bathroom to freshen up and shower. When she left he released a loud, pent-up breath in a loud rush. He was losing the high and focus from the adrenaline. He was exhausted and shaking. He clasped his hands, not believing he had just done that. Wow. He hugged himself, feeling cold, and sat on the bed. He knew he could talk his way out of this but he'd have to move fast. The exact opposite of how he felt like moving. Actually, he didn't feel like moving at all.

He was attempting to text her new tutor their address with his shaky hands, he'd already let the guards know who to expect, when she came out of the bathroom. He gave her a weak smile and rubbed his thighs, trying to warm up, as she wrung her hair with a towel. She watched him a moment and he looked down. How could he explain to her what was going on? Somehow he didn't think Google Translate could handle the nuances and he was too tired to tell Namjoon the whole story.

To his surprise, she walked past him and turned on the coffee maker. He tried to hide it but he was shaking so bad. She stayed over there until the coffee was ready to pour and, as if she hadn't surprised him enough already, she walked back and sat next to him. She took his hand for a moment, he couldn't stop it shaking. She gave it a small squeeze and handed him the coffee, not letting go 'til she was sure he wouldn't spill it. Its warmth was welcome. Then she pulled part of the comforter on the bed over and wrapped it, along with her arms, around his shoulders. He shuddered violently, gosh he was so cold.

"Are you okay?" She rubbed his biceps, trying to create some heat. He didn't reply, just took a shaky sip of coffee. He was grateful. He heard her mutter to herself, "I think you're in shock." He would've laughed at any other time but her assessment was probably accurate if he was honest. He just.....didn't do things like that. He wrote song lyrics to diss people who needed it, he didn't confront them and run away from them with the people they wanted.

After a couple minutes he started to warm up and she let go, just sitting next to him.

"Thank you." he said, staring down at his coffee. She was very nice. She didn't deserve this.

"Gomawayo." She replied. Maybe sometimes you didn't really need to speak the same language to communicate.