Chapter Text
When he was young, Jungkook loved the spring. The crisp beginning of a new season, shadowed by the silent departure of another, brought with it sunlight and fields of fresh flowers. Like a newborn chick, he stumbled through the tall weeds, counting the yellows and reds and pinks as they swayed in the light breeze, brushing against his bare legs.
“Eomma!” Jungkook’s little feet carried him excitedly to where she sat by the porch. A trail of flowers followed closely behind him, velvety petals falling from his arms and fluttering to the ground. “I found flowers!”
She smiled at him, bright as the sun, picking him up and placing him on her lap. He looked up at her in giddy anticipation as she picked up the bundle of bright colors, turning the material in her fingers. She hummed, planting kisses on his cheek, “It's beautiful, love,” she said, and oh, her eyes were bright enough to light a million skies.
He nodded proudly before plucking a yellow flower from her hands, “what is this one?” He asked, watching as her eyes narrowed into thin slits as she studied the blossom.
“A marigold, darling,” she said, and he giggled when she tapped him on the nose with its soft edges.
“And this one?”
She turned the pink bud fondly in her hand. “A dahlia. It’s your father’s favorite.”
He nodded, rummaging through the pile of flowers and petals until he found a specific one. It was pure white with six large petals stretching from its center, and he could not help but stare at it with youthful wonder. He had never seen such a flower before.
He held up the white flower. “What about this?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “It's…it’s a lily,” she answered hesitantly. His mother paused for a moment, leaning down to touch a hand to his face gently, an unreadable expression on her face. It made him nervous.
“Jungkook? Where did you find this flower?”
He was not sure where the flower came from; there were so many flowers littering the ground, stems intertwining with one another, that he lost track of them. Some he found by the porch, others in the garden, but the rest were from –
“The field, of course,” Jungkook said, distracted. His small fingers were busy weaving the stems of the flowers together, tongue sticking out in concentration.
She nodded and watched as he slid off her lap, running off to collect more flowers for the crown he was making. She sighed, glancing worriedly at the lily in her hands. If the crimson specks at the blooming center looked oddly similar to flecks of blood, she chose not to notice it. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out an identical flower, but blood stained its pretty white petals red.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
Jungkook woke with a loud sigh, turning over to hide his face in the crook of his elbow, heart pinching slightly at the nostalgia of his dream. Sunlight fell in stripes across his tangled bedsheets, casting the room in a soft glow. When he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the sweet scent of homemade pancakes, a soft smile and a warm cup of coffee awaiting him in the kitchen.
When his eyes opened again, disappointment set into the creases of his eyebrow. The gray, bare walls of his apartment greeted him, and the smell of mold wrinkled his nose. He startled slightly when his phone rang suddenly, stretched, and rolled over to glance at the clock. 6:32 glared back at him in angry red.
Ice-cold terror washed over him, because shit, my shift starts at 7:00, and he really didn’t want to be late this time. He was already on thin ice with his manager and he quite liked a head on his shoulders.
His feet, still sluggish from sleep, tripped on a stray pair of jeans and he tumbled face-first onto the floor. He cursed silently under his breath as he pulled himself from the ground, not wasting any time to even hiss in pain at the bruise he was sure would be forming on his knee.
Jungkook spent the majority of the previous night huddled over his laptop, binge-watching Netflix and eating his weight in popcorn and ice cream. The puffiness in his cheeks was a testament to the ridiculous amounts of sugar and carbs he had consumed, but hey, it was all in good times.
That decision was quickly becoming… questionable.
Yeah, ‘all in good times’ my ass, he thought as he shoved a sweater over his head.
Grabbing his scarf and bag – thank god he packed that the night before – he swung the door wide open, wincing at the biting cold that greeted him. Giving his apartment one last look, he made a mental note to do the laundry, and perhaps it was time to do some grocery shopping as well.
He could almost hear the bare cupboards and empty fridge sing in relief.
He had been desperate when he rented the shoe-box-sized apartment, having moved from Busan to Seoul at the age of nineteen with nothing more than the clothes on his back and not nearly enough money to his name. It was sad, really, the state of the crumbling building, but it was home.
Seoul was much like Busan, but it still took him some time to get used to the streets and memorize where one road ended and another began. After just over two years, he could proudly say that he knew the city like the back of his hand.
Almost.
Checking the time on his phone once more, he ran out of his apartment at a speed he was sure would impress his old gym teacher. He briefly considered taking the bus, but knowing himself, he would probably end up squeezed tightly between a bunch of grumbling strangers. And Jungkook had enough self-awareness to know that that would eventually end in catastrophe.
He knew he would accidentally step on some man’s polished shoe, maybe knock over an old lady, or perhaps even manage to touch a woman inappropriately by accident.
He shuddered at the thought, running straight past the bus station.
Jungkook was horrid with people. His palms would sweat and his voice would shake when he spoke. The fact that he stuttered when he was nervous did not help his situation. And of course, on top of all of that, the universe decided from early on that he would be its personal laughing stock, so something always had to happen when he got in front of a crowd.
Yeah, like that time he –
Actually, he would rather not think of that, thank you very much.
As he rushed through the streets, Jungkook once again thanked whatever deity he could think of that his apartment was walking distance from his job and the university. Without a car and a slightly neurotic tendency to avoid other humans, he really had to make sure he woke up on time to race around the city for his early shifts or classes. He may be fit, but running at the literal ass crack of dawn was borderline inhumane.
He cursed himself multiple times when he nearly collided with passing strangers, ignoring the wary glances and odd looks thrown his way. He huffed in annoyance. Really, how was he ever meant to make those ‘long-lasting friendships’ everyone on TV always talked about when peoples’ first impression of him was that weird kid? Honestly, Jungkook was as bad at making friends as he was at cooking.
And he couldnt even microwave ramen without something exploding.
(Seriously though, how was he supposed to know that styrofoam cups can't go in the microwave? He was an art major, goddamnit, not a science nerd)
He always ended up saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment in front of the wrong person. He made people uncomfortable because sometimes he just couldn’t hold his tongue for the life of him, inevitably insulting his poor victims. He laughed at all the wrong jokes and stayed silent when he was supposed to speak. It was like the wires in his brain were mixed up, and he had to live with the consequence as the universe’s phenomenal fuck up.
It was ironic, though, that despite the chaos surrounding his capacity – incapacity, rather – for social interaction, he worked at a coffee shop. A coffee shop, where he had to smile and say “my pleasure" when taking orders. A coffee shop, the source of most of his anxious breakdowns in the past few weeks.
And, of course, there was the status of his bank account. Which, judging by the costs of his classes even with his scholarship, would be nonexistent without some type of income. So, there he was, panting and barely balancing on his feet when the small building came into view. A quick glance at his watch told him he was, in fact, early.
By fifty-three seconds. Fifty-two, fifty-one…
An older lady at the register was organizing coffee beans and setting up pastries at the display case when the door chimed open, and it never ceased to amaze him how she could keep her voice upbeat and smile welcoming despite the tired hour.
“Welcome to The Terrace, how may I help yo–” She looked up, pausing. “Oh. It’s you.”
A frown colored her features as her eyes settled over him before she expertly smoothed her face into a pleasant smile as a customer approached the counter. Café Noona, he liked to call her, because she had never bothered to introduce herself and Jungkook, being the socially awkward hermit he was, was too shy to ask.
Jungkook mumbled a quick “good morning” – which honestly sounded more like some alien language pulled straight out of a movie – before setting his bag down in the employee room and grabbing a pastel-blue apron from the rack.
Jungkook eyes the coffee machine for a moment before sighing in defeat, grabbing a mug and a carton of milk. Though he will never admit it to himself, the only reason he took this job – other than the decent paycheck, of course – was for the promise of free coffee. And boy, did it deliver.
He exhaled into his mug, the caffeine already starting to chase away the last of the sleep that clouded his eyes. He would need every ounce of caffeine he could get if he wanted to survive the rest of the day. It was a Saturday, meaning that people would be filing in and out of the café from morning till night.
He took a moment to appreciate the calm atmosphere: the overhead lights casting a soft glow on the sofas and vintage tables, the quiet music playing in the background, the smell of fresh pastries and steaming coffee, the scowling face of Café Noona as she scrubbed a stubborn spot on the counter –
Putting down his mug, Jungkook forced a smile as a group of girls walked through the door, frigid wind seeping into the warm café. They had been standing outside the building for a while, glancing back and forth between each other. “Good morning, what can I get for you?”
One of the girls leaned forward, a coy smile playing on her lips, “I don’t know, are you on the menu?” The girls’ friends laughed from behind her, and Jungkook fought the urge to pinch his nose.
Yeah, this is going to be a long day.
Jungkook didn't know how it happened.
He was in the middle of carrying drinks and plates to the tables, the busy atmosphere drowning out his thoughts as he walked back and forth through the shop on autopilot.
He grabbed the steaming mug of vanilla latte from the coffee machine and placed it on a tray, waiting a moment to find the right table. The café’s vanilla latte was a staple this season and a personal favorite of Jungkook’s. By the first hour of opening, he had already lost count of how many were ordered.
His eyes found the table.
A short, stout man who looked as if he hadn’t smiled a day in his life sat at table number four, glaring daggers at the smiling waiter as he placed the mug in front of him. When Jungkook handed him a blueberry scone on a small tea plate, the man grumbled loudly.
“This is not what I ordered,” the man said sharply, his piercing eyes catching Jungkook's wavering gaze.
Jungkook withheld a sigh.
It's not like he didn’t expect to deal with problematic customers while on the job. It was an occupational hazard, to say the least. A necessary sacrifice. Just yesterday, an old lady had barreled through the door, searching frantically for something. When he mustered up the courage to ask if she needed help, she stared at him as if he grew a second head, and stumbled out.
Now that he thinks of it, Jungkook wonders if she ever found what she was looking for.
His mouth formed a small ‘o’ as he looked at the receipt on the table, hugging the serving tray to his chest. He counted to ten before responding. “Sir, it says here that you, uh, ordered a vanilla latte and- and a scone, yes?” He hated how inferior his voice sounded at the confrontation.
The bulging veins in the man’s head were not very comforting. Do something, his mind kept yelling at him, but he was made of stone; standing in the middle of the café, he never felt more insecure.
“I said, this is not my order, dumbass,” the man spat, slamming the mug on the table. Little droplets of coffee splashed onto the pretty white doily, and in a distant thought, he wondered if Café Noona would be upset.
She really did love those doilies.
Jungkook’s breath hitched. People were starting to stare. He could not focus, head swimming, because oh my god, there are so many people looking at me. The man’s face contorted into one of fury, and he stood up with such force the chair fell harshly behind him. The whole café fell quiet, but the sound of Jungkook's roaring heartbeat was loud in his ears.
The man stomped up to him, so close that Jungkook could smell the stench of his breath hot on his face. “Are you just going to stand there?” He seethed, “You really are such a waste of space, you fucking useless piece of shit can’t even make a fucking coffee!”
In one moment, he was staring at the man’s ugly, shouting face, arms flailing wildly as he threw insults and slurs at Jungkook’s folding figure –
– and then there was pain.
Jungkook could only stand there stunned as chaos overtook the café around him. Hot, sticky coffee burned its way down his face and hands and apron, and he had to bite back the scream that was building in his throat. Holy shit, holy shit it burns what the fuck –
The tray in his hands fell to the floor with a loud bang, and before he knew it, he was being tugged by the arm and shoved into the restroom. An unfamiliar boy stood in front of him, his mouth moving fast but Jungkook couldn’t hear. His head was swimming, the edges of his vision were going blurry.
“-an you hear me? Hello?”
He nodded.
“Okay, you wait here, I'm gonna get a napkin.”
Jungkook just stood there numbly, the throbbing pain from the scalding drink still registering in waves. He watched as the stranger yanked a few napkins free from the dispenser. His voice seemed distant, as if Jungkook were underwater, but he could make out the concern in his eyes.
Jungkook didn't fight it when the boy began gently dabbing at the burns on Jungkook's face and hands with the damp napkins. It stung, a lot, but he was too busy trying not to pass out to care, every exhale chasing another hungry inhale. He could hear yelling and fighting from the café, and Jungkook was sure that someone had called the police.
The thought made his stomach roll.
The boy stopped for a moment. "Hey," he said, voice cutting through the haze in Jungkook's mind. "You're alright. Breath for four, hold for seven, out for eight, can you do that for me?”
Jungkook nodded weakly, his voice failing him. He didn't even have the energy to be embarrassed at every overexaggerated breath he took to ease the pressure in his chest. They sat in silence, the older humming a tune as he wiped the last of the sticky coffee from his face. Jungkook felt the telltale exhaustion in his bones as the anxiety subsided, his shoulders sagging against the tiled wall.
The boy smiled. “Hi,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “I'm Jimin.”
It took Jungkook a moment to respond, too focused on the hazel eyes that stared directly at him. He blinked after a second, looking away.
“Uh, Jungkook,” he stuttered. “My name’s Jungkook.” He mentally slapped himself over the head. With a chair.
"Listen," Jimin said softly, "I saw what happened out there. That guy was a total jerk. You didn't deserve that."
Jungkook managed a small shrug. “Yeah...It’s whatever.”
Jimin hummed, something stirring in his eyes. “Still. He should know better.” He tilted Jungkook’s face in his hands once more, inspecting. “Anyways, I think you’ll be fine. There shouldn't be any scarring. You got lucky there, kid.”
Jimin pat his shoulder, the gesture firm and gentle at the same time. “If there is any swelling, use a cold compress and it should subside.”
The older rose to his feet, reaching a hand down to pull him up from the floor. “Take it easy, okay? I'm sure it's been a long day for you.” Jungkook nodded, and he could swear he saw a flicker of worry in the crease of the other's brow.
When they finally emerged from the restroom, the café was empty. It wasn’t even close to closing time – the sun, still visible on the horizon, was a testament to the early hour – but the upside-down ‘open’ sign on the door said otherwise. Jungkook silently thanked Café Noona for the early closure.
He walked Jimin to the door, standing there awkwardly as the older boy stepped out. Before he had time to overthink it, he reached over, catching his arm.
“Thanks,” Jungkook blurted. "For, um, helping me.” Though his smile was dull and forced, the gratitude in his eyes was loud and clear. Jimin only beamed back at him, dark, wavy hair catching the afternoon light. Jungkook noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the edges with the weight of his grin.
“Of course! See you around, Jungkook.” He waved goodbye, and as the younger boy began to gather his things, he couldn’t help but think that the farewell sounded a lot more like a promise.
The newfound warmth in Jungkook’s chest followed him all the way home.