Work Text:
The air is cold, frigid, cutting into the exposed skin of his face like a newly sharpened knife. He’s been looking for shelter for the past hour and still has yet to find a place to rest his head. He hates Christmas. Well, no, that isn’t entirely accurate. Christmas used to be Jungkook’s favorite time of the year, but that was when he had a family – when he had people to love, people who (he thought) loved him. The streets have been his home for the past two years. It’s been two years of struggling, of learning to survive, of being all alone. It’s been two years since...they left him.
Jungkook understands why they did it, he really does; they had a better chance to survive without him, but that doesn’t make the tiny stabs of abandonment that prick at his emotions ache any less. The jacket is frayed and thin, and he pulls it closer, trying to contain what little body heat he has left.
It’s beginning to snow, hail-like hard pellets falling in the form of tired flakes to form a silent shroud upon the earth.
“Shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath.
He’s nineteen and a man, he reminds himself as he fights back the tears threatening to fall. He’s a man, and men don’t cry.
An angry rumble comes from his stomach -- and he wonders, when was the last time he ate?
Five hours ago? Six? Yesterday?
He doesn’t remember.
The flakes are falling harder now, pelting his face and nearly soaking his jacket all the way through. Fear seeps into his core. He’s worried. This year has been especially rough. He hasn’t been able to find much work or many places to stay. He’ll have to spend the winter outdoors, and if the last few weeks are any indication, this year is going to be a blanket of white.
An aroma, delicious and mouthwatering, is coming from the building he’s standing next to, and the scent drifts over tantalizingly. He licks his lips unconsciously. His stomach turns into an angry choir, belting out notes, forcing all within earshot to listen to its song of hunger. Embarrassment fills his gut and the tears from earlier finally win the battle. He’s hungry and helpless and emotional.
He’s nineteen and a man and scared that he’s going to die on the streets. Why wasn’t he worth saving too? How could they just leave him, their child, their flesh and blood? He’s just nineteen and not ready to be a man, but they left him with no choice.
Jungkook runs across the road, making his way into a side alley, hoping to find an overhang he can stand under so the blue-hued ice crystals don’t soak his clothing any more than they already have. Teeth begin to chatter against each other, and he’s trembling as the wind lashes out, whipping against his face.
He silently thanks God when he notices a spot that offers some shelter from the storm. Jungkook leans up against the wall and slinks to the ground until he’s seated. He’s tired, bone tired. The last time he slept was two days ago when a kind ajumma had let him rest in the back room of her restaurant. She’d offered him the chance to use it again, but Jungkook’s hates owing people. He knows he has no way to repay her kindness so he refused her offer.
Sleep swirls around him like a whirlwind and he tries to fight it afraid he may not wake up, but his eyes feel heavy, as though weighed down by large boulders. The pull is too great, and he sinks into slumber and hopes that when he wakes up this all will have been nothing but a bad dream.
“You think he’s dead?” The voice sounds like it’s far away, and Jungkook wonders if he’s dreaming.
“Naw, he’s breathing,” a deeper voice answers back.
The second voice reminds him of his father. It’s rich and sweet, like hot chocolate or warm apple pie, and he likes the sound. The tone is comfortable and Jungkook feels a sense of protection as the unknown man speaks. A tear rolls down Jungkook’s cheek. He hasn’t felt safe in a while.
“Hyung, he’s crying in his sleep,” the first voice says.
“Aww, man. Poor kid, he’s shivering,” the deep voice replies, and kindness drips from the each word. It’s molasse thick, and a sliver of hope slips past Jungkook’s wall.
He hears rustling before a heavy object, a jacket , he thinks, lands on his body, and Jungkook wants to snuggle into the warmth but is afraid to move, afraid that he’s dreaming, afraid he’ll wake up and find himself alone.
“Jin hyung will kill us if we leave him here,” the first voice says.
“Mmm, we don’t know anything about him, Jimin-ah,” the hot chocolate voice answers back. “What if he’s dangerous or doesn’t want to come with us?”
“He doesn’t look dangerous, hyung. He’s just a kid. Plus, you didn’t know anything about me when you found me either, ‘member?”
“I do.” The voice sounds like it’s smiling.
“Well, we won’t know anything if we don’t wake him up. The snow’s coming down harder, and it would be wrong to leave him here. It’s Christmas tomorrow, hyung. We can’t leave him alone. Please?” the voice begs, and Jungkook silently begs with him.
The deep voice sighs, “You’re right. It’s Christmastime; no one should spend Christmas alone in the cold.”
Jungkook feels his body being shaken gently.
“Hey, wake up,” the voice says gently, and Jungkook wants to cry because someone is touching him, acknowledging that he is human and alive and real.
He struggles to crack an eye open half-way. He feels weak, a like a battery with its power drained.
“Can you walk?” the deep voice asks, and Jungkook wants to nod but his body is not responding to his commands.
“I-I think so,” Jungkook’s voice cracks, his throat dry and stinging.
“Mmm,” the voice responds.
He’s startled when strong arms grab him around his waist. He can feel the stranger’s warm breath against his skin, and it feels like life. He hadn’t realized until now how much he missed human contact, the sensation of another being near is exhilarating.
“Jimin, help me get him up.” The voice sounds beautiful, and Jungkook shivers as the man’s words tickle across his skin in tiny puffs. “Kid, when was the last time you ate something? I swear I can feel your bones. Jimin-ah throw the jacket back on him for me. I think he’ll collapse if I let him go.”
“Jung-Jungkook…”
“Huh?”
“M-my name,” Jungkook says, feeling stupid leaned up against the stranger, struggling to talk, “is Jungkook.”
“Nice to meet you Jungkook. Sorry about the invasion of your personal space, but I swear we’re not criminals. We just want to help, okay?” the voice says against his ear. “My name is Namjoon, but you can call me hyung.”
“Okay, hyung,” Jungkook whispers.
The man’s practically carrying Jungkook, and normally he wouldn’t allow this. He’s nineteen and a man, but right now, right now, with Namjoon’s strong arms holding him up, he feels every bit the nineteen-year-old child he’s been cheated out of being. He wants to be protected and looked after, wants to be loved and noticed. So just for this moment he allows it, forgetting his pride and sinking into the comfort that Namjoon’s arms are providing.
“We’re almost there,” the first voice says, and Jungkook realizes he is sandwiched between the two men. “My name is Jimin, but my friends call me Chimchim. We can be friends if you like.”
The man’s voice is like sunshine to Jungkook; it’s bright, cheery, and friendly. He tries to smile but fails. Still his heart sings. Someone wants to be his friend .He used to have friends, lots of them, but when it all fell apart they conveniently disappeared. Jimin’s invitation is the most beautiful thing he’s heard in awhile, and Jungkook should answer but doesn’t because what if they leave too?
They stop, and Jungkook can feel Namjoon fishing around in the pocket of the jacket that is draped over his body. He hears the sound of keys as they jingle. The door opens, and warmth and the aroma of something delicious hits Jungkook’s senses at the same time.
“Where’ve you two be--,” the voice stops suddenly. “Oh my God! Is he okay? Yoongi, Hoseok! Come help us!” The voice is melodic, motherly, and panicked.
Jungkook tries to say it’s alright, that he’s sorry for intruding, but less than a minute after making it through the door the younger man finally succumbs to the darkness that has been chasing him down for most of the day. The light goes out behind his eyes, and his body slumps.
“Jung..” is all he hears before the world stops moving.
Namjoon almost tumbles to the ground as Jungkook becomes dead weight in his arms.
“Jungkook!” The blonde exclaims.
“Get him to the couch,” Jin orders. “He’s burning up – Taehyung, bring me a towel from the bathroom and a basin with water and the cold compress out of the freezer.” Jin barks his commands at the younger man.
“Nae, hyung,” Taehyung replies as he hurries to fill the man’s request.
“I’m pretty sure I said all I needed was sugar. How’d I end up with a couchful of unconscious teenage boy?” Jin asks, as he dips the towel into the water and begins dabbing at Jungkook’s skin.
“He was passed out on the street, hyung, we couldn’t just leave him there,” Jimin answers hurriedly.
“We should move him to a bed,” Jin says, “and we need to get him out of these wet clothes. I think Tae is the closest to his size.”
Jungkook wakes up to the smell of homemade cookies and the sound of laughter, and for a brief moment he wonders if the last two years had really been just a dream. Sitting up in the bed he glances around. It’s not his room. It’s all been real. He rans a hand through his brown hair and he can feel the panic building, like blocks in a game of Jenga.
Where am I?
“You’re awake?” a voice asks, and Jungkook remembers as the sweet baritone slips through his haze. Oh, right... the alley. He remembers being carried and then the blackness.
He nods.
“Are you hungry? I brought you something to eat, uhmm, I wasn’t sure what you liked so I brought you, uhm, everything.”
Jungkook looks up and finally sees the body that the voice belongs to. The man is tall and blonde, and he reminds Jungkook of a character in a manga or a prince in a fairytale.
“Thank you,” he replies, his throat still dry and scratchy.
“Here, drink something first,” Namjoon says, handing Jungkook a glass of water as he sits on the bed, balancing the plate of food on his lap.
Jungkook takes a sip, and it stings as it goes down, like iodine on an open cut. He flinches, and Namjoon moves to grab the water before it falls, causing the plate in his lap to tumble to the ground.
“Shit, sorry,” Namjoon mutters remorsefully.
“Hyung! Namjoon hyung just destroyed new guy’s plate of food. It’s all over the ground.” Jungkook looks up at the speaker and is greeted by a boxy smile. “Hiya, my name is Taehyung. Are you feeling better? Namjoon hyung is known as the God of Destruction, so you probably shouldn’t allow him to touch anything breakable. I can get you another plate if you want?” Taehyung looks at Jungkook, who’s staring at him in wide-eyed terror. “Or not…”
The boy’s boxy smile falls and Jungkook wants to apologize, but he is overwhelmed and fascinated with the number of words Taehyung had managed to say in just five seconds.
“Tae, tone it down just a bit, huh?” Namjoon says softly as he ruffles the other boy’s hair and chuckles.
Jungkook feels a pang in his heart at the intimate touch, and he aches to have someone touch him with such tenderness too. He turns his head away, feeling the tears beginning to well up again.
Shit, when did I become such an emotional basket case?
“I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Taehyung’s voice is wistful. “I’m just so excited that you’re here and awake – and you’re so cute, and Jimin doesn’t play with me as much anymore because he’s always busy. Do you like video games? We have a bunch! I’m not that good, except for Mario Kart…”
Taehyung continues talking (at the speed of light) to Jungkook as though he’d known him for years. So far he’s learned that Jin loves to cook and has baked enough cookies to feed everyone on earth and all the aliens in the universe. He now knows that Hoseok likes to dance, and even though Jungkook hasn’t seen the dancer yet, he’ll recognize him because he smiles a lot and looks like a horse at certain angles (it’s the sharp jawline Taehyung explains). He’s also learned that Jimin likes to hug and snuggle and is the kindest person Taehyung has ever met, except for the ajumma down the street that lets him play with her kittens, she has kittens so she wins. Then there is Yoongi, who is either sleeping or working, and Jungkook shouldn’t be scared if the man with the green hair grunts at him because it’s his love language.
Green hair?
“And finally, Namjoon hyung is the best hyung ever, and he’s a good listener too. And he keeps us safe.” Taehyung squinches his brows together in concentration. “I think you’re all caught up now, right hyung?” Taehyung turns in Namjoon’s direction – “Wait, how old are you Kookie? I can call you Kookie, right? It doesn’t matter if you say no. I’ll forget and do it anyway.”
Taehyung sits quietly, waiting for a reply, and Jungkook is not sure which question he’s supposed to answer first. “I-I’m nineteen, and uhm, I guess Kookie is fine.” Honestly it’s more than fine; a nickname means he belongs, that he’s a part of something, and Jungkook desperately wants, no, needs to belong.
“Good.” Taehyung claps his hands and jumps off the bed. “I’ll go get you more food, k?” The boy is gone before he can answer.
Jungkook’s head is spinning, in the last however many hours he’s gone from being invisible, a nothing to the world at large, to being talked to like he’s been around forever, like he belongs. He wants to get excited, but so many bad things have happened in the last twenty-four months and he’s too nervous to even hope.
“Sorry about Tae. He can be a little overwhelming, but I promise he’s harmless and you’ll get used to him.” Namjoon’s honey voice snaps Jungkook out of his own thoughts.
Get used to him? Does that mean I can stay?
He doesn’t ask the questions out loud, but more than anything Jungkook wants to know the answers.
“Hey, you’ve been knocked out for a while. Maybe you should try standing up,” Namjoon says as he offers his arm to Jungkook for support.
Jungkook pushes himself forward and swings his legs over the side of the bed, scooting down until his feet hit the floor. He lays one hand on Namjoon’s arm to steady himself. He’s relieved when he stands without falling.
“Good, that’s good,” Namjoon says encouragingly, and Jungkook smiles despite himself. His heart filling with joy at the realization that someone is proud of him. “Okay, let’s try to make it to the living room. Everyone’s worried about you, and seeing you will make them feel better, all right?”
People are worried about me? People who don’t know me? Why?
The thought that people care about him seems so foreign now, as does being around people and interacting. He feels awkward, unsure what to do or how to act. It’s like learning a new language or riding a bike for the first time -- he feels wobbly and uncertain, like he’s going to fall. As he walks into the living room he’s greeted by five pairs of eyes, and Jungkook instinctively steps behind Namjoon to hide from the onslaught of stares.
Jin gets up from his seat on the couch and walks towards where he’s hiding, clutching the back of Namjoon’s shirt.
“It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.” Jin stretches his hand out.
Jungkook’s unsure if he should take the hand. He tightens his grip on the fabric in his grasp.
“It’s okay Jungkook.” Namjoon’s voice lulls him into acceptance, and he extends his hand slowly. Jin’s fingers are warm and firm as they lock with his.
Jin leads him to the couch and motions for him to have a seat.
“How are you feeling?” The man’s voice is melodic, and his eyes are soft and kind.
“B-better.” Jungkook’s voice feels shaky.
“Good, I’m glad,” Jin says as he hands Jungkook a chocolate chip cookie. “How’d you end up in this state?” Jin’s voice is measured as he asks the question.
Jungkook blinks, the question hitting him like a ton of bricks. His emotions are a mess and he’s not sure he can speak. The question causes memories to flood his mind like a monsoon ravaging an island, memories of the morning he had woken up to find his family had moved and left him behind.
The tears come before he’s able to speak a word, and it’s at this moment that Jungkook realizes what family really means. Warm arms (fourteen of them) pull him into the most magnificent embrace he’s ever experienced, and it feels like the jaws of life pulling him from a car wreck or a defibrillator shocking him back to life.
“We all have stories Jungkook, and hurt can sometimes be too painful to verbalize. Jin saved Tae and me when our family died. We found Jimin living in his car, and Yoongi and Hoseok just showed up on our doorstep one day. It’s not much, but if you’re willing, you can be part of our very unconventional but fully functional family. We’ll wait, and when you’re ready you can share your story. We’ll all be here to listen.” Namjoon’s voice breaks through Jungkook’s shell, and now the tears are flowing like a faucet that has been left on for days.
He cries for all that he’s lost, cries for the family that didn’t think he was worth saving, and when all the pain and hurt has been washed away in his flood of tears, new tears form – happy ones, healing ones. These tears are like glue putting Jungkook’s broken pieces back together again.
Then, then ...Jungkook speaks.
He tells his story, and when he’s done the looks on the faces in front of him tell him - this year for Christmas he’s come home.
It’s been four years since that day, and Jungkook’s sitting at the dining room table putting the finishing touches on presents.
“You almost finished?” The voice startles him.
“Mmm, you think Jimin will like the sweater? I still believe we should’ve gotten him the red pants,” Jungkook says as he turns and leans in to kiss the man on the lips.
Namjoon pulls Jungkook into his arms. “Uhm, nope. You will not be buying Jimin anything that makes his butt look like, ‘dumplings ready to be eaten,’” Namjoon quotes Jungkook’s words when Jimin had tried on the pants on several days ago. “So yeah, ugly light up Christmas sweater it is.”
He laughs against Namjoon’s lips, and sighs in contentment just before kissing the tall blonde with enough passion for the man to understand he’ll always be Jungkook’s favorite dumpling.
So much has changed in the last four years, and there are days Jungkook has a hard time wrapping his mind around just how different his life is now. He has a family now, people that love him. Six of the greatest hyungs who, no matter how hard he tries, will never leave him. He’s found love, the real kind, and he will fight with all his might to keep it safe.
Yes, much has changed.
However, one thing is still the same. Just like the night Namjoon had found him, the older man’s voice still sounds like hot chocolate, delicious and sweet, and the sound still fills Jungkook with the feeling of being loved and protected. Every time the man speaks or smiles his dimpled smile it reminds Jungkook that he’s home.
-Fin-
Come chat with me here.