Chapter Text
Jungkook watched the gleaming muscle car rumble in their driveway through their living room window, breath fogging up the glass as he gaped at the awesomeness then gaped wider at the tough looking guy who exited the vehicle. He had broad shoulders and he wore a leather jacket over an all black outfit. Cool.
“Be nice,” his mother announced (unnecessary because he was mostly just excited) as she straightened out the skirt of her dress. She fidgeted with her hair a little bit, pushing the locks behind her ear before thinking better of it and brushing it out so that it covered the side of her face. Jungkook couldn’t understand why she’d be nervous to meet her own son.
Jungkook watched the man walk towards the door like he owned the land their house was built on, thinking if confidence was a human being it would definitely be this guy, who also happened to be his estranged brother. Seokjin, he called the name to mind. He’d never seen him before in his fourteen years of living, and only learned of him the previous week.
Even in his state of awe he hadn’t forgotten his manners, he peeled his face away from the window and rushed to stand by his nervous mother. He held her hand and she smiled down at him before forcing her face into something more neutral as she opened the door.
Seokjin did not smile at them, he looked almost bored. It was borderline embarrassing to hear his mother’s voice edge on desperately friendly as she ushered him in. He’d come empty handed, like he was doing them a favor by sitting on their couch. At least he’d taken off his shoes, Jungkook thought as he frowned, eyeing the heavy boots by the shoe rack on the side.
“Jungkook, bring your brother house slippers.”
He searched for a guest pair big enough for Seokjin’s feet but came up empty so he decided to give him his father’s pair, fuzzy, grey, soft things that looked so odd on him. He joined his mom on the love seat that was directly opposite Seokjin, separated by a heavy mahogany coffee table that held all his video games.
Did Seokjin like video games? Maybe they could play together some time.
They watched each other for a moment, awkward silence absolute among them before his mom got up suddenly and laughed. It sounded way too forced, the kind of laugh she did when he told her about his dream of becoming an astronaut.
“Silly me! I’m sure you’re thirsty. Do you want anything to drink? We’ve got water and apple juice,”
“I’m fine.”
It was the first time he’d heard him speak in his entire life. His soft tone threw Jungkook off, he’d been expecting something more gruff and angry, deep. His eyes drifted up when he spoke, squarely meeting the man’s gaze with tense attention, dropping only a few seconds later. Seokjin had been watching Jungkook since he’d walked into their home, the boy could feel it even though his eyes were locked on the fuzzy rug in the middle of the living room.
He tried not to squirm, to feel un-intimidated but that was hard to achieve when the man across him studied him with some weird mix of something-and-amusement.
“What’s your name?” he asked, finally. It shocked Jungkook so much he stuttered as he answered.
Seokjin let a small smile slip, it wasn’t condescending but it made Jungkook feel so stupidly young and stupid. It was almost too much.
“I’m going to my room,” he said and then dashed into the hallway, up the stairs then into his room surrounded by the safety that his Princess Leia poster offered. He looked at her, out of breath from sprinting up the stairs and she watched him from above his bed’s headboard, expression fierce as she wielded a sword.
What the hell was that?
++++
He only came back down when his mother forced him to join them at the table for dinner. Usually they didn’t participate in such fanfare but his mom wanted to show Seokjin that she was living the perfect domestic life; eating dinner at the table and what not. Jungkook tried not to scoff when he saw the spread on the table, knife noodles and pork and mandu steaming hot. She never made Korean food unless she really had to, like when Gram came to visit. She must really want to impress him.
His father was at the table, sat at the head looking thoroughly uncomfortable- like he was itching to say something but the social niceties instilled in him glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He smiled when he noticed Jungkook peering at them from the last stair, nervously holding on to the banister.
Jungkook took his place at the table, directly opposite Seokjin and beside his mother. He felt a prickly sensation at the back of his neck, the feeling of being watched, and glanced briefly at the man (he definitely wasn’t a boy like him) to confirm his suspicions. Seokjin was already looking at him, thoroughly amused by all the awkwardness. His eyes, coal black under the fluorescent lighting, were glinting with it.
All of a sudden his mother held his hand, lifting it. He looked in his father’s direction only to see his hand clasped in hers, looking as confused as Jungkook felt. When they turned to her she had an aggressively cheerful smile splitting her face. “Hold hands with Seokjin, we are going to say grace.”
He snorts before he can think better of it and he feels his mother’s grip grow uncomfortably tight. Opposite him Seokjin shows no signs of his amusement apart from a slight cough.
“Oh, I’m not religious,” he says fidgeting with a spoon.
“Just hold their hands.” Jungkook can tell that she’s at wits end here, highly strung and ready to cry so he decides to cooperate, holding his own hand out towards Seokjin, who sighs and holds his hand. His dad does the same, though he doesn’t look too happy to be holding his mother’s bastard lovechild’s hand. His mother prays and a chorus of ‘amen’ sounds round the table. As soon as they’re done his father drops Seokjin’s hand like a hot coal, and reaches for his chopsticks.
Mrs. Jeon sets out to work, serving her husband first, smiling politely and his father smiles back at her. They are both so fake it’s painful to watch, so Jungkook looks down at his plate, wishing that he could be elsewhere, anywhere but here.
She serves him, making sure to put extra vegetables in his bowl. He thanks her and digs in. Seokjin serves himself and ensures to put a large portion of the noodles in his bowl. He wafts the steam coming off the food towards his nose, inhaling deeply before sighing, happy.
“Waahh! It’s been ten years but your cooking is still shit.”
It takes a second for the insult to register, but when it does his father chokes, face red and his mother’s chopsticks clatter as they hit the dining table. Jungkook hides his grin, afraid to show his parents that he has knowledge on swears and their use.
“Seokjin!” his mother yells at the same time his father slams his meaty palms on the table, rattling the dishes and yells, “You little shit!”
Seokjin, unbothered by the waves he’s caused, takes a tentative sip of the hot broth, smacking his lips together before shaking his head, a frown on his face.”A bit too salty too. It almost like you want to kill Mr. Jeon here by heart attack.”
His father stands and his chair topples behind him. “Get out of my house!” he thunders, red in the face. His mother has a few tears shining in her eyes, she’s looking at Seokjin, hurt and angry, on her cheeks there’s a rosy blush.
Seokjin sighs, fake sadness taking over his face as he places his cutlery back on the table. “Well, if you insist.” He says and then pushes back, standing. He looks at Jungkook smiling and winks before walking away from them. He opens the door and leaves, slamming it behind him and his mother winces. She’s crying, and when his father calms down enough to notice he goes to her side and gives her a hug. She tries, and fails, to catch her sobs as she lets him hug her, wrapping his tree trunk arms around her narrow shoulders. Finally she stands, shrugging him off as she wipes her tears away with the back of her hands.
“E-excuse me,” she says before storming off.
Jungkook can hear the purr of Seokjin’s car outside, he watches its light wash the brick outside the door in gold before it turns dark and Seokjin leaves. He is strangely unaffected by the whole thing. Somewhere in the back of his mind he is aware that he expected some form of conflict to occur. His father sighs hand on his waist as he tries to wipe the tired from his face. He notices Jungkook sitting there, doe eyes watching him, quiet, and for a moment they watch each other. “Finish your food,” he says and leaves to chase after his weeping wife.
Jungkook turns to his food.
Damn.
When he finishes it (it actually is a little salty, but it’s fine) he clears the table, putting his dirty dishes in the sink. He wipes the table down until it’s gleaming and arranges the mats they’ve used countable times this year in a neat pile at the centre. He decides that it isn’t his problem to deal with the left-over food so he abandons it on the counter.
As he passes by his parents room heading towards his he hears quiet sobs and his father trying to hush his mom. He decides to be nosy and stands there, outside their door. His father says something like, ‘no, the food tastes okay’ and then his mom says something but he can’t make it out through the crying; his father can. He replies ‘see? I told you not to invite him’ and then with more malice, “I never want to see that faggot near my son again.”
++++
On the weekend, Jungkook goes to Taehee’s house.
Her family is one of the few Korean-American families in town so by default they are family friends. It’s a barbecue, apparently. He eyes the grill and the packages of meat on a wobbly looking table beside it with great anticipation. He loves (loves) meat, and the fact that meat is in the equation is enough to get his blood pumping with excitement.
Outside, on the backyard patio his mother stoops to his height, a gentle smile on her face and dabs a blob of cold sunscreen on his nose. He scrunches it violently before she rubs it in carefully over his face.
“Are you sure you don’t want a hat? You’ll get sunburned,” she says and he shakes his head, eyeing the bucket hat with white stars on it that she has held between her arm and her torso. Jimin will have his head for that, call him a nerd and everything even though he knows that she secretly is a nerd too.
The sun is still raging, determined to burn them all even within the throes of summer’s death. The grass in the backyard is kept green only by the sprinklers, even then there are a few brown patches where the water doesn’t reach all the way. Next week they start school, and nobody is sure if they’ll be able to survive the heat in their classrooms. Jungkook is sure that much of the first week will be spent without actual learning, which is iffy for him but it’s alright.
His mom stands and the air that washes over his face from the swoosh of her sundress smells of gentle lavender. She beams at him, adjusting her own sunhat, a wide brimmed thing that is this summer’s favorite- she’s worn it everywhere, but Jungkook can’t fault her for it. It’s beautiful in a simple way, just like her.
“Go find Taehee and Jimin, I think they’re in the house,” she says and turns to walk into the grass, eager to talk to her own friends, get all that good tea on the white soccer moms that are entirely too enthusiastic over something so…He forgets the word, but it’s full of snark.
He watches her for a moment, then his eyes catch on his dad, who watches her hips sway with a greasy expression on his face and that serves as enough motivation for him to get back in the house and look for his sometimes-best friends and forever-tormentors.
He grabs a cup of juice on his way to Taehee’s room from the kitchen, he’s been to her house so many times he’s familiar with every drawer, even where Taehee’s mum hides the cookies but he’ll never tell her. Simple payback for all the inconveniences she causes him. He grabs one for himself, taking the time to eat it, and when he’s done he wipes the crumbs from his mouth, shirt and hands and washes it down with a cup of apple juice.
Taehee’s room is on the first floor to the right. It’s got an obnoxiously pink door and a badly drawn sign she drew when she was nine that says ‘No Boyz Alowd’ with a sticky note that says ‘EXEPT KOOKIE’ tacked at the bottom.
He knocks and waits for Tae to answer the door. It’s a thing they do after he walked in on Something He Wishes To This Day He Hadn’t SeenTM . He hears giggling coming from the other side of the door before it swings open to Taehee smiling way too brightly and Jimin behind her, doing the same. Before he can bolt he’s yanked into the room, possibly to his death. It’s not improbable when it comes to the two.
Tae pushes him towards her bed, she relieves him of his cup of juice before she shoves him so that he sits on her Princess Barbie duvet that he knows Jimin also has because they’re soul-mates so they have to match. He sees Jimin approaching from the periphery, with a small make up bag beaming so that her entire set of teeth is on display, and sighs, resigned to his fate. Pride? Sorry, he doesn’t know her. He’s never met her before.
“I finally got Yoonji to give me her old make up,” Tae says, pulling up a chair. Jimin places the bag on the bed, opening it and taking out the products he presumes he is about to test out today.
“You sure you didn’t steal it?” he sasses and Tae rolls her eyes, smile fading. She doesn’t honor him with an answer, choosing to search through a little box of things that she dragged beside her. She pulls out a packet of wipes. He’s seen his mother use them before so his apprehension eases a little bit.
Jimin speaks up then, hands coming up to turn his face this way and that. He lets it happen though knows what’s coming.
“With ears like these I don’t think even make up will save him, Tae.”
Tae snorts. “Satellite dishes,”
She really shouldn’t be insulting his ears, he thinks, considering hers are huge too but he’s feeling passive about it. They both collapse into laughter and Jungkook tries not to show that he’s annoyed. It’s such an old joke. They notice him pouting and Tae shoves his shoulder playfully. “You know we love them,” she says and Jimin nods.
They go quiet for a few seconds, both girls preparing their tools when Jimin breaks the silence, giggling. They turn to her, puzzled and then she says. “Houston, we have a problem. Can you hear me?”
Tae laughs, and even Jungkook smiles a little. “Hey,” he says in playful warning before the girls go quiet again. The laughter does a lot to ease his tension; and his curiosity is piqued when he watches Jimin pull out a couple of tubes and bottles. It isn’t the manliest thing in the world but he kind of just wants to see what his face would like with make-up.
He feels something cold being dabbed on his face and instinctively pulls away but Jimin’s chubby fingers hold his chin firmly, halting the action. “Foundation,” she whispers. She’s so close he can smell the cotton candy sweetness of her body splash, her breath washes warm over his face, sugary but not entirely unpleasant, if it makes sense. He swallows, nervous, and when he looks over at Tae he can see the smugness in her expression. How she found out he’ll never know. Jimin dabs gently, and then leans back to survey her work before using her fingers to smudge the foundation around his mouth, blending it. As a result he’s right in her face. He tries not to betray his discomfort but Jimin is Jimin, and she picks up on the proximity and blushes, leaning back.
“Sorry,” she says and backs away to the side to look through her stuff, red staining the apples of her cheeks.
“Okay!” Tae says loudly and they both startle. She looks back at Jungkook, eyes narrowed. “I heard from my parents that your brother is in town,”
“My- oh,” he can’t say in words how thankful he is for the distraction. Jimin looks between them confused.
“Brother?”
“Yes. I, uh, I have a brother, apparently. This Thursday was the first time I’ve ever met him.”
“What’s his name?” Tae asks as she struggles to open an eye-shadow pallet. Jungkook takes it from her, opens it and returns it. She smiles in thanks.
“Seokjin. Kim? I think? He’s really cool- he’s got a Camaro and a leather jacket.” He had done his research on the night of the dinner, right before he was called down to eat.
Tae points at a color on the pallet and Jimin shakes her head and points at another color and Tae nods. Jimin then takes his chin in her hands turning him to face her and he steadies himself before closing his eyes like he’s instructed. She dabs something cold on his eyelids.
Tae hums. “Cool? Is he nice though?”
“He said my mom’s cooking was still shit and then proceeded to accuse her of trying to give my dad a heart attack because the food was too salty,”
Both Jimin and Tae burst into shocked laughter. “Oh my God!” Jimin says.
“Your mom’s cooking isn’t the best but he didn’t have to say it was shit,” Tae says, tapping her brush against the plastic case to get rid of the excess product.
“My dad kicked him out. Called him a faggot,”
They both go quiet, sobering up at the word. “Damn,” Jimin says and Tae sighs.
“He’s gay?” Jimin asks after a moment and Jungkook shrugs.
“I don’t know, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Seokjin seems to care very little about the opinions people have of him. He just has this ‘I don’t give a crap’ aura,”
Jimin snickers at the word aura.Tae tells him to close his eyes and he does. He feels a brush dust over his left eyelid, insistent and firm as she blends out the eye-shadow.
“What color is it?” He asks and Jimin answers. Rose gold. He smiles. “I love that color, did you know?”
“Yeah she does that’s why she chose it,” Tae says. He hears Jimin swat her arm, mumbling something, tries not to get his hopes up.
All of a sudden someone knocks on the door. Before Tae can tell whoever it is not to come in, they barge in. Heavy silence follows, the air static with tension, and then in the most disappointed tone of voice Jungkook hears his mother speak.
“Food’s ready. Jungkook clean your face,” and then she’s gone.
The silence that follows is almost absolute, and Jungkook feels like he should say something but he doesn’t know what to say. He opens his eyes when he’s sure she’s gone. Tae opens her mouth, closes it with a sigh and Jimin stares down at the make-up bag, bottles of foundation and concealer and tubes of lipstick spilling out of it.
Jungkook feels like he should say something. Something to diffuse the situation but for the life of him he can’t. What can he say? He knows that they’re doing nothing wrong. It’s just fun, a little experiment. It shouldn’t mean anything but he can’t say that. The words are stuck in his throat as Taehee wipes off the foundation, gentle small strokes of her hand. Jimin packs the bottles and tubes back in the make-up bag, small hands shaking. It feels like the air in the room has suddenly gone thin. He knows he’s not wrong, but why does he feel the need to chase after her and explain, say that they made him do it, beg her not to tell dad?
Tae wipes around his eyes, over his eyelids, gentle but shaky. He keeps his eyes closed even when she’s done. He feels something cold being smeared on his cheek and opens them, only to find Jimin staring back at him, bashful. “It’s just sunscreen.”
He nods and lets her pat it on, eyes closed. She takes liberty with her task and smacks his forehead hard enough that he’s startled out of his stupor. He hears Tae giggle and he smiles.
The gravity of the situation hits him properly just as he’s about to step out onto the patio with the girls. They’re wearing hats, even though they’d rather not, because their moms don’t want them to get tan. Even Jungkook who they’d forced to join them, though they let him pick a black dad cap that Tae favored. He sees his mother watching him, eyes sharp as he steps through the door. She waves them over to where the moms are sat, at a table under an umbrella next to Tae’s pool.
He decides to lead the pack since he can feel Tae’s and Jimin’s apprehension with dealing with the problem that is his mother’s shame at catching her son participating in something so girlish. His mom immediately latches onto his arm, bringing him close to her, her eyes scanning for any trace of make-up. Tae, always thorough with whatever tasks she has to fulfill, did a good job. His mother hums, eyes coming to meet his and he stares back, afraid but brave.
“Why were you wearing makeup? You aren’t gay are you?”
She always goes there. The questions only serve to embarrass him in front of the others, but she’s graceful enough to keep her voice low enough so that the men near the grill can’t hear. Mrs. Kim titters, amused as she watches him squirm. He glances at her briefly before turning to his mom shaking his head no.
“Why’d you let them put it on you?” she says it in Korean, and somehow it’s harsher, more cutting. He feels so thoroughly sorry though he doesn’t know why he should be.
Tae suddenly speaks up from where she’s standing beside her mother.
“We made him do it,” she speaks it in Korean too.
“Aish JK! What kind of man are you? Letting girls push you around!” This from Jimin’s mom, who smiles wide like it’s funny.
He wants to say something, but his Korean isn’t as good as any of the others at the table, he stutters through his speech like a child; even English isn’t easy when he’s this nervous. He can feel the blood heating under his skin. He knows his satellite ears are red, like a beacon beckoning for the wolves to come for his hide. For all its worth, his mother smiles and lets go of his arm. It’s a dismissal, but it doesn’t mean the discussion is over. She switches the topic, asks if he wants to swim and he says yes though he wants to sulk. She hands him a small bag he knows has his swimming gear and tells him to go get changed.
In the bathroom, he changes with quick efficiency. He’s in the swimming team so it’s practically muscle memory. When he’s done he watches his face in the mirror, and he sees it. A tiny fleck of rose gold near his left ear. He turns his head, watching it flicker in the sunlight streaming in through the window with the movement. He doesn’t wipe it off. Instead he wears Tae’s cap, scrunches his nose and watches his reflection do it back. Why is his nose so big? Jimin once said it’s to compensate for his tiny brain. He smiles at the memory. He’d been so mad he hadn’t spoken to her for a day, and in turn he’d made her cry. Fair trade if you ask him.
He collects his belongings and leaves, still shaken from his mother but better than he was before.
That night his mother comes into his room, sits on his bed and stares at him for a good minute before she runs a gentle hand in his hair.
“You really aren’t gay?” she asks, this hopeful look in her eyes.
“No I’m not,” he says. And even if he was, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to just go ahead and say it.
“Good,” she nods, smiling. “You know I’d still love you,” It’s a clear lie if he’s ever heard any, but he nods and smiles in the bashful way he knows makes her heart swell with fondness.
“So why did you let Tae and Jimin do that to you? Did they try to hurt you? I can call their-“
“I have a crush on Jimin,” he begins to say. His mother stares at him, mouth open as understanding shines through her eyes. “I- I couldn’t say no, I just-“ he stares at his duvet, picking at the threads over Buzz Lightyear’s eyes. He might be acting but a blush still drapes his cheeks, aiding his cause. It’s not really a crush, it’s more like ‘I’ve just realized how nice and kind you are and we both like the same things though you piss me off pretending that you don’t to seem cool’ but referring to it by the term makes him feel…
“Oh Honey,” she laughs, “You’re so sweet, you know. I can help if- if you want,” She’s smiling, excited, and Jungkook almost feels bad. He shakes his head and his mother ruffles his hair. “Sleep well,”
She leaves, switching off the lights and Jungkook feels…sated? Safe? He doesn’t know what to call it, an emotion somehow bigger than relief. He turns, folding in to himself. Safe.
++++
That Monday, on the last week of freedom, Hoseok comes over to mow their lawn. He arrives at noon, and whistles, surprised, that Jungkook is still in his pajamas.
“I see that you’re living it up, Kookie. Going wild,”
Jungkook laughs, setting himself down on the porch with no regards to the dust that may stain his pants.
“I don’t even understand how I’ve gotten away with it,” he says as he leans back, letting the heat of the sun warm up his body. He hadn’t been outside the house since church yesterday and bathing in the light felt like a second baptism. Cleansing.
“Your mom is way too uptight.” Hoseok struggles with the lawnmower for a bit, twisting his body this way and that as he tries to turn it in the direction he wants. Jungkook watches him, he doesn’t move in to help because Hoseok has some weird ego issues about it, something about not needing fucking charity or whatever.
Jungkook knows it stems from deep rooted insecurities, things he’s heard his parents discuss, as well as the other adults around him. They speak his name with pity, and they look at him like he’s some unfortunate three legged fawn that cannot survive on its own in this harsh world. Jungkook supposes that he understands a little bit; the little favors and jobs are all well-meaning but the people can come off as a little condescending.
Hoseok pulls out a bright yellow bandana from the pocket of his faded dirty jeans, weird patches on it with what looks like grease stains and uses it as a headband, tying the strands of his too long greasy hair back out of his eyes so that he can see as he works. He notices Jungkook watching and winks, smiling before shifting all his attention to the old lawnmower.
At least he’s handsome.
Jungkook watches for a while, how Hoseok struggles to push the lawnmower in straight lines to ensure that the grass is cut uniformly just how his father likes it. He’s sweating heavily and he hasn’t even finished a quarter of the work; Jungkook assumes that it’s got to be hard, pushing such a heavy thing with a caloric input half of what is required when you’re doing manual labor day in day out during summer.
And so, because he knows Hoseok won’t ask for it (that weird ego thing) he goes back inside to get the jug of lemonade that his mother had made that morning and some shortcake biscuits. He makes sure to grab two cups and with great balance brings everything outside on a tray. He sets the stuff down before clapping to get Hoseok’s attention.
The other boy looks up, puzzled. His eyes land on the food and his mouth turns in a frown.
“Kookie I can’t take any breaks, I’ve got a lot of work today,”
“I know… but it’s so hot! And mom made these shortcake biscuits that I want you to try ‘cause you always give honest reviews on stuff I show you. I gave some to Tae but she said she loved them- which must be a lie,”
Hoseok grins. “Naturally,”
“Naturally,”
Hoseok sits down beside him after washing the dirt off his hands. Jungkook pours him a glass of the cool sour drink, making sure some ice cubes land in there. Hoseok gulps the lemonade down, then shyly asks for more and Jungkook can’t stop his grin. He understands- it must be hard, especially for someone raised traditionally like Hoseok, to have someone younger than you take care of you when it’s meant to be the other way round.
Hoseok munches on one of the biscuits, silent as he looks out over the lawn.
“Are you excited for high school?” he turns to look at Jungkook, sipping his lemonade.
“Uh… Kinda? It’s just, you watch all these movies, and everybody always talks about it like it’s some sort of pivotal life changing experience, and Tae and Jimin are always going on and on about how it’s meant to be awesome,” Hoseok nods, humming. “I just- I’m curious, and sorta expecting it to be awesome. I don’t know.”
“You know,” Hoseok starts, then sighs, “Not to dampen your excitement, but it really isn’t that life changing, just stressful- but that’s my experience and everybody experiences different things. Look, what I’m trying to say is don’t expect too much, you might be thoroughly disappointed.”
A wry smile beamed his way, and then Hoseok pats the back of his neck, brotherly and warm and sets his glass down. He stands up, stretching his arms and groans. “Now I have to get to work if I want to eat dinner today so,” he turns around and bows. Jungkook bows back, smiling.
Hoseok takes off his shirt, a raggedy plaid thing and ties it around his waist. He’s wearing a vest underneath, stained with grease from working at the mechanic’s part time. His arms are so skinny, Jungkook stares, shocked. It isn’t the first time he’s seen Jung Hoseok in sleeveless clothes but it doesn’t make it any less jarring.
Watching him work fills him with a strange sort of pride, like he’s watching the underdog fight their circumstances, winning all the battles that they face. Jung Hoseok, a boy who teaches him kindness and gratitude always, life lessons in some ways- however selfish it may sound.
He leaves the tray out on the porch with him, an open invitation to take what he needs, and seeks shelter in the cool shade of the house.
That evening his mother comes back from work, arms full of shopping bags. He rushes to help and she smiles at him. “I see Hoseok came over,”
“Yeah,” he says, as he roots through the goods. He sees bacon- good and a six pack of yogurt cups, the ones with the fruit. He almost complains, and then Hoseok’s arms flash in his mind and he promptly shuts his mouth.
“How is he?” she asks, putting away the shopping. Jungkook perches himself on one of the stools round the kitchen island, watching his mom strategize on how to fit all the vegetables in their fridge.
“He’s okay, I guess.”
She frowns, turning around to root through the shopping bags. “That poor boy. You know, I saw Jung in the grocery store last week. He wasn’t looking too good- might be all that alcohol- anyway I asked him about Hoseok, if was still doing the summer jobs and he said yes so I told him to tell his boy to stop by.” And then an after-thought, “Dawon should have taken him when she left.”
Originally, Jungkook had thought that his last week before high school would be momentous, full of confused emotions, mostly anxiety, but it ends up being pretty smooth. He gets a bit scared by Thursday, he hadn’t expected himself to respond so well to the constant reminder by the voice at the back of his head that he was going to be thrust into a new chapter of his life, where he’d be expected to be mature and make wise decisions and be responsible and take care of himself and drive (oh my God).
The days go by in a peaceful manner and he tries to ride it out without thinking too much about his own unexpected mental stability. He supposes that it is a bit strange that he thinks of some parts of his consciousness as independent, he would love to be able to explain it but he can’t. The only person that understood this was Tae and that was part of the reason why he thought of her as his best friend. She didn’t ask questions, she just took him as he was and treated him kindly when his Other had a particularly hard day.
And though the week goes well, some part of him lives in constant fear that it is only the calm before the storm, and sooner or later he’ll break down and go through that awful period after where he tries to collect the fragile pieces of himself though they cut into him.
He's being a bit dramatic.
On the weekend they go shopping for school supplies. In the store almost every wall and stand has a banner with the phrase ‘Back To School’ on it and it makes Jungkook feel a bit sick but he sticks it out (which he is very proud of himself for) and picks his stationery and some snacks for school. He sees other kids his age and older walking among the isles, the younger ones with exited smiles- taking their time to pick what they need. The older kids just dump stuff in the cart and go, they don’t care anymore. Jungkook hopes life doesn’t lose its excitement by the time he is their age even though somewhere in his mind he knows it will.
He makes his mother stop down the aisle where they have all the notebooks. She looks up from her Pintrest in question.
“I need them,” he says and she nods. He immediately reaches out for a bright yellow one, it’s got butterflies and music notes on the cover, sprinkles of glitter on the lines that cut across it. He needs something bright and beautiful, something to lighten up his mood when he looks at it. He isn’t even thinking about the implications it may have. His mother coughs to draw his attention and he looks up and notices how her eyes are narrowed.
“Don’t you want to pick the other Spiderman one,” she says, pointing to a dark blue notebook on the right.
Careless. He swallows, tries not to sound nervous when he says, “I like this one.”
“But yellow is such a girlish color! Pick the blue one, its better,” She picks the notebook from the shelf and puts it in the cart, beside the milk.
She looks at him, expectant and he folds, placing the notebook clutched in his hand back on the shelf. He can feel his chest heating, steadily rising anger, but he can’t really show how affected he is or she’ll think too much of it and harass him later.
He hates it. He really hates it so much. Colors shouldn’t have a gender assigned to them, he knows this. He knows it’s silly to think of a color as being masculine or feminine but he can’t say anything because she’ll turn around and say something to corner him like ‘are you gay?’ loud enough so that everybody in the aisle with them will hear and look at him funny and-
“Mom?”
It’s Seokjin.
He stares at them, an expression on his face that he didn’t think was possible for the man; red cheeked bashfulness. And because Jungkook is nosy his eyes swing to the contents of his brother’s cart. Two large loaves of bread, a pint of milk, Frosted Flakes, a can of instant coffee- not the expensive stuff his dad drinks- and the mega pack of sausages. So Seokjin is doing okay, he assumes, though his faded shirt and jeans say otherwise. Maybe it’s for the aesthetic.
His mother is startled into silence, and then she stammers through a greeting like she wasn’t just yanking on her son’s emotions a few seconds prior. It feels good to see her flustered, retribution.
Silence, and then it’s like Seokjin remembers she has another son too and his eyes shift around before they land on his. Jungkook smiles small and Seokjin nods, acknowledging him.
“You’re going back to school?”
“Yeah,” he doesn’t know where the steady voice comes from when he’d just been shaking with anger. “I’m going to high school,”
“Oh. Cool.” Seokjin nods again and Jungkook feels like he should go away and give them space to talk. It’s what he does when he notices that Tae and Jimin are about to have an argument. He can tell they need to speak to each other, after spending years apart, pretending the other is nothing but a false memory.
“Listen, mom-“ Seokjin starts but his mother cuts him off.
“Jungkookie and I here need to hurry so we’ll talk later,” She shoves her phone into her purse and takes the cart, trying to push past him but Seokjin blocks her way. His mom looks like she’s about to cry.
“Mom I’m sorry about the other night,” He says. The way he focuses on her, reading her face, unsettles even Jungkook and he shuffles. Maybe he should just go and look at cereal she’ll never buy for him and come find her when they are done.
His mother can’t look Seokjin in the eye, and he doesn’t understand all that her face reflects from within her, but he can see sorrow, maybe guilt. She says, “Seokjin we’ll talk later,” eyes on the cart like she’s afraid to chance a look at his face because she knows she’ll cry.
Seokjin is merciful, Jungkook realizes. He moves out of the way and his mother walks away without saying goodbye. The man sighs before looking at Jungkook and giving him a smile that’s just teeth.
“See you later, Kookie,” he says and walks away.
In the car his mother sits quiet, hands on the steering wheel, eyes blank. She chews on her lip and more than once Jungkook is tempted to shake her out of her trance because it’s unsettling for him to see her this way, a woman who has always seemed firm, unshakable, trembling to her very foundation. He closes his eyes and lets her think, and when his mind can’t occupy him anymore he looks out the window across the parking lot to watch the other shoppers go about their lives. He spots Seokjin getting out of the supermarket, the slight breeze ruffling his hair as he squints, looking for his car. He carries two big bags, one in each hand and from that distance Jungkook can see his biceps flex with the strain of the weight. In passing, Jungkook notes that Seokjin is really handsome in a way he knows he’ll never be. It stirs envy in him. He looks away.
A few minutes after that his mother shakes herself out of her thought and turns on the car, she locks the doors and puts on her seatbelt and then checks if Jungkook is wearing his where he is sat in the back. She smiles when she sees that he’s got it done, faces forward and drives them back home.