Rae

June 23rd, 1977

The floor thumps in rhythm with the heavy bass blasting from the stereo, cranked up to the highest volume setting. Even the mattress seemed to be moving along to the song, sending vibrations through his body as he sprawls out across the bed. He stares up at the ceiling idly, watching the cloud of smoke as it curls around itself, some of it catching in the afternoon sun. 

Jungkook liked to start his days like this — seeing as he woke up around noon — with blaring noise to cancel out reality for a moment. He can barely hear his own thoughts even if he tried to focus on them, much less the fervent pounding of his mother's fist to the door — pure bliss. 

Posters are slapped to his walls, the house's original yellow peeking out where his poor tapestry didn't cover. Majority of them are bands, AC/DC, Judas Priest, mostly Black Sabbath though. There are a few cut-outs from porn magazines, women with their tits pressed together, arched to his liking. Jungkook would jerk off to them whenever he was bored or simply horny — which was his default state for the most part. 

His sanctuary is brief today, the banging on his bedroom door managing to overpower even the shrill of the singer's raspy voice. He hadn't heard her stomp up the stairs, but he imagined his mother to be muttering her displeasure all the way up the thirteen steps — a number that irked him. 

"Turn it down!" comes her aggravated yell. Any other mortal might've missed it due to the sheer velocity of his music preferences. But Jungkook was well versed in listening for his parents' every breath in order to avoid them whenever he snuck out. 

"Jungkook!" She's got her knickers in a twist today it seems, usually she would give up after the initial shout. "Unlock your door this instant!" The command is followed by the rattling of the handle as his mother yanks on it roughly. 

To that he simply rolls his eyes, reaching one hand up to rub at his temple where a headache had began to build. He sinks a little further into the mattress, hoping that the next track would deafen whatever scolding she was about to deliver. For a moment he's almost inclined to believe it did. She had gone silent in the hallway, perhaps she'd given up and returned downstairs. That would have been the best of worlds. 

"Are you smoking in there?!" 

But of course not. His gaze drifts to the cigarette caged within his index and middle finger, and he rolls it between them leisurely. "No!" he calls back. 

The smell had probably seeped under the crack of his door which she pounded on, pungent enough for her to catch — not that he gave a shit. "Get out here right now!" his mother remains persistent, "Your father needs your help in the kitchen!" 

Jungkook groans, his head tipping back onto the pillow with a thud, "I'm busy!" 

He could feel her anger, radiating off of her in hot waves as she stands just beyond his door. Had he not been smart enough to lock it, she would have probably roughed him up by now. The thought makes the corner of his lip twitch as he brings the cigarette between them for another drag. 

"Don't make me ground you a second time this month!" Her threat doesn't make him flinch, they never did, but it does make him frown. 

"You can't ground me, I'm nineteen." 

"Nineteen or not—" her voice rises loud enough to overpower the opening instrumental of Paranoid, "You still live under my roof and you do as I say!" 

Jungkook snorts, his head lifting off the cushion it had been resting on. "Suck my fat cock!" he hollers back before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. 

The pounding to his door starts sounding more and more like a madman beating a drum. "Don't you dare use such language with me!" oh she was livid, "Get out here right now before I have your father dismantle this door himself!" 

She wouldn't actually have him do that, Jungkook knows it just as well as she does. With the cigarette shoved between his lips, he pulls on his thick leather boots, insistent on wearing them despite the heat. Then he heads over to the window, undoing the latch and shoving it open as he climbs out. 

It's quite the trek but Jungkook has made this journey enough times to be at ease as he hangs off the ledge of the windowsill, knuckles whitening as he holds on. To his left is a downspout, close enough for him to hook one leg around it. There's a brief second where he's at risk of falling as he lets go, always is, but he catches himself on the pipe and slides down without much trouble. 

The grass bends under his weight and he takes a couple of steps back. With one final glance toward the house and a satisfied drag from his cigarette, he makes for the street — intent on finding entertainment elsewhere whilst his mother continues to yell at the 8-track playing in his bedroom. 

Jungkook enters the filled town square with little plan. The sun sits high in the sky, making the outdoor cafes attractive to the general public. He couldn't care less for them. The thought of bumping elbows with the person on the table next to his own makes him scrunch his nose in disgust. Instead he lets his attention flicker over to the fountain that sits in the center of the plaza. 

An old statute of a woman stands carved in the middle, water sprouting from her open palms before falling into the basin. It's not terribly crowded and he heads over to claim a spot on the stone ledge. Its cool enough to combat the summer heat, the artificial rain skimming along his back comfortably. 

He surveys the area briefly, noting the a group of kids hovering by a display window, two men playing chess on a nearby bench and a handful of mother's chatting loudly as they pushed their strollers back and forth. Jungkook found studying people to be far more pleasant than actually engaging in any real conversation with them. 

Slipping a hand into his jean pocket, he fishes out the pack of cigarettes he always kept on standby. He tilts his head down, fringe falling across his forehead and the world around him goes dark as he lights the embers and takes a long drag. 

"Mind if I bum one?" 

He hadn't noticed her approach, the sound of her footsteps easily drowned out by the commotion around them. But there she stands. With dark brown curls that fall down her shoulders, a white flannel tucked into her navy jeans and a vintage-looking bag slung over one arm, fingers curled around its thick leather strap. 

Jungkook glances left, then right, making sure that she was actually addressing him and not the homeless-looking man a couple of feet away. She nods to the pack, still resting in his palm with an expectant but friendly smile. 

He springs into action right away, "Uh, sure." Shoving his own cigarette between his lips, he fumbles to pluck a second one from the box. The lighter comes next and she accepts both with a grateful hum. 

His next swallow goes down with strained effort as he watches her put a flame to it and inhaling. Jungkook hadn't pegged someone like her for a smoker, but he finds himself completely entranced by the way her mouth wraps around the cigarette. He doesn't even realize she's returning the lighter until its back in his palm, and he stares at it dumbfoundedly. 

"Can I?" she then asks as she gestures toward the open slot beside him. 

He mods, scooting over to give her room as she takes a seat. His own cigarette sits forgotten between his lips as he steals a peek at her through the corner of his eye. She tips her head back, long and dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks when she savors another puff. 

"Long day?" he finds himself asking, finally regaining that of his composure. Usually he hates small talk, but something about her makes him open up for it anyway. 

She grins, "Yeah. Something like that. You?" 

Jungkook scoffs. His day had started less than two hours ago — but sure, his mother's nagging had put a dampen on his mood. He busies himself with a long drag, letting the ash slip down his throat like some reverse chimney. When he turns his attention back to her, he finds her free hand extended. 

"What's your name?" she asks when their fingers lace together in a simple greeting. 

"Jungkook," he says, taking a moment to study the intricate swirls of polish on her nails. 

She tries his name out for herself, tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth in approval, like he'd just passed some unknown test of hers.

"I'm Yelena." 

Their gazes meet and whatever pathetic answer had waited on his tongue vanishes as he loses himself in the way her brown eyes glimmer under the hot afternoon sun. She withdraws her hand all too soon, lifting it to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she brings the cigarette back to her lips. "Nice to meet you, Jungkook." 

Yelena — or, Yelena Louise Emerson, as her full name was, not that it mattered of course — was a lot more decent than the girls from his high school years. She spoke with grace he hadn't known before, the words coming effortlessly even as she discusses the most mundane topics, and Jungkook finds himself clinging onto each sentence. 

After finishing their cigarettes he proposes a walk which she happily agrees to. They cover every inch of the city side by side, moving at a leisure pace and stopping to peer at trees, park benches and other nonsensical stuff. He learns that she's two years his junior, her eighteenth birthday coming up in September, two weeks after his twentieth. 

She had graduated only a month prior and was going into fashion school this fall. "What about you?" Yelena asks when they cross the bridge going over the canal. Jungkook's steps falter, his twitching hands finding purchase in the pockets of his loose jeans. He hadn't thought much of what he wanted to if he was being honest — university never enticed him, hell, he barely made it through senior year. 

He shrugs, "I don't know. Don't got no plan." Right now he was leeching off his parents, had been for the past two years without shame. A job felt like a sadistic play of torture and he had no intentions of acquiring one in the near future. 

"Really?" Yelena has stopped too, she was now leaning against the railing, arms folded across her chest. "I figured you were in a garage band or something." 

Jungkook frowns, "What?"

But she simply raises him a brow, shooting him a pointed look and he glances down to his attire. The crease on his forehead deepens as he studies the ill-fitted t-shirt, which he regrets not washing as he stands before her. He lingers on the print across his torso, "What's wrong with Black Sabbath?" 

Yelena laughs, the sound echoing off the bridge they stand on and Jungkook blinks in surprise. "Not that," she gestures toward him in his entirety, "You got the look." Cocking her head to the side, she thoughtfully adds, "I like it." 

The tips of his ears burn pink at that and Jungkook quickly clears his throat as he squints toward the scorching sun. He can feel her gaze on him even as he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge it. Part of him wishes she would look away, the other longs for her undivided attention.

"Are you wearing makeup?" 

Her sudden question catches him off guard and he sends her a puzzled look. Yelena points to her own eyes and Jungkook reaches a finger up to caress one of his lids. "Oh," he muses, "Yeah, I guess." The black charcoal he wore was part of his everyday appearance, sometimes he even slept in the smudged eyeliner — it was a bitch to wash off anyway. Though Jungkook had never considered it makeup. This was just who he was. 

Yelena nods, cracking a small smile as the afternoon sun illuminates her dark curls, "Looks cool." 

After their first rendezvous they agreed to meet up again. Nothing crazy, another walk around town, coffee at the local cafes, a shared lunch, stuff like that. It wasn't much but suddenly Jungkook had more a reason to roll out of bed each day. He even made an effort to brush his teeth in the morning and changing into clothes that hadn't been decaying on his floor for the past week. 

His parents caught on rather quickly. Suppose it might've had something to do with the fact that he was skidding down the stairs at an adequate 10am instead of 2pm. "Going somewhere?" his father had asked as he peered up from behind the day's paper. 

Jungkook came to a halt in front of the hallway mirror, shoving a hand through his wild hair once, then twice. "Nope," he'd clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Just headin' on a walk." Whether they bought the cheap excuse or not was of no difference to him, he'd left through the front door before either of them had time to process his response. 

On their fourth get-together, Yelena had pointed to his eyebrow. "Did it hurt?" she asks, curiosity lacing her words. They were sat criss-cross on top of the plaid blanket she'd brought from home, shaded by the large oak tree they huddled under. 

"Nah," Jungkook shrugged, one of his fingers toying idly with the spiky end of his piercing. "I'm thinkin' of getting more." He liked to pride himself on having quite the pain tolerance, a needle going through his brow hadn't been much of a fuss, nor the patchwork of tattoos he'd started on his right forearm. 

The park was oddly quiet on that Saturday morning, with only a few birds chirping in the distance and the gentle breeze that brushes through their hair. "I think lip piercings are cool," Yelena muses, her eyes lingering on his mouth as she said the words. 

Jungkook felt his throat go dry and he hoped she didn't notice that he fought to swallow. "Yeah?" he cleared his throat, "They're alright." He'd tired to play it off, but his nonchalance only lasted him so far — and the very next week the needle had sliced his bottom lip, a silver ring now hugging it. 

The more time they spent together the more he learned about her — for Yelena came with a lot of surprises. She knew how to sew, crochet and knit, in fact each piece in her wardrobe she had designed and made herself. It became clear when taking a closer look at the personalized flair of her shirt, the added flowers to her jeans or the headband she had crafted from her mother's old dress. 

Her dream was to open her own clothing store in the future, though she said that fashion school was a decent start in said direction. Jungkook agreed, he said that she was no doubt talented, she was bound to be a success — which was more than what could be said about him. 

His infatuation with Yelena grew for each minute spent in her presence. And soon enough he was working up the courage to ask her on an actual date with him. It had been meek attempt. The words tumbled clumsily from his tongue and he had said them with a slight stutter, pathetic really. And yet — she'd said yes. 

So he took her to the movies, bought her a soft drink and popcorn. Then he watched her through the corner of his eye as the film played on the big screen before them. He noted the way her lips would twitch whenever she found a line particularly amusing, the rapid flutter of her lashes as she blinked the tears away during emotional scenes. 

Under the dimmed lights of the movie theater Jungkook had kissed her for the first time. A shy peck at first, testing the waters. But then she had kissed him back — slipped him tongue right there over their shared popcorn — and holy shit, Jungkook knew he was a goner. 

Summer came to an end all too quickly. And though Jungkook's routines included minimal change with the turn of season, things would not stay the same between him and Yelena. For all of July and August they had been basking in their own simple sanctuary. Passing a cigarette back and forth on his bed, listening to his 8-track together or going on long walks by the canal. 

Yelena would be busy most of the time from here on out. School was robbing him of her warm presence and giddy laughter. A selfish part of him wanted to ask of her to give it up and just stay with him as they were — he almost did. But this was her dream, and what was she to do with him? Sleep until noon and smoke cigarettes whilst leeching off her parents? No, Yelena was better than him. 

Jungkook knew that if he wanted to keep her in his life, he would have to make a change. His mother had raised him a brow when he brought up the idea of getting a job. Though she seemed happy that he was finally pulling himself together and making an effort. 

"Does this have something to do with the girl you've been seeing?" she asks over the breakfast table that morning. 

Jungkook snorts, "No." Blatantly ignoring the fact that his face was beet red as he shoved more eggs into his mouth and chewed quickly. But it had everything to do with her — as all things did recently. 

He managed to get a position at the local gas station. The hours were long and the tasks were boring. Each second spent there killed him and he nearly quit a handful of times. The thought of Yelena kept him going. She'd told him during one of their dates that she wanted to move out of her parents house, and he was hellbent on making it a reality for her. 

It took four months of hard work. Four months of resetting pumps and mopping floors as he busted his ass trying to save up. In that time he grew balls enough to ask her to be his girlfriend, like, officially. Jungkook had never had a girlfriend before, most of them were just brief one night stands and flirtatious banter. So he was determined to do things right with Yelena. 

From bringing her flowers each time they saw each other to splurging what was left of his paycheck on jewelry for her. She would always tell him that there was no need for materialistic things like that, but Jungkook didn't know how else to express his feelings, which led him to getting her even more stuff. 

But by the four month mark there was enough money in his account to pay off the first month's rent on a small, one-bedroom apartment. Jungkook had never felt more proud of himself as he handed her the spare keys, "It's ours now." 

The place wasn't luxurious by any means. Water pumped slowly, it took long for the shower to even heat up, but Yelena was happy, and that was what mattered. 

Living together wasn't bad at all. Of course they got on each other's nerves from time to time, it was inevitable. Suppose Jungkook did play his music a little too loud at times, but she would litter fabric and thread throughout the flat — making him curse loudly whenever he pricked himself on a hidden needle. 

Every moment, both good and bad, is what made those first months so special. It was where Jungkook truly fell in love with Yelena — it was also when he first had the guts to tell her that he did. 

A year passed as they spent both Christmas and New Year's together. That apartment saw everything. From them enjoying the first snow, to watching the birds as they returned in spring, to laying on the hard, wooden floors together as the summer rays spilled through the dirty windows. 

This was his happy place. 

Sunday afternoons were Jungkook's least favorite part of the week. It meant that the short weekend with Yelena was coming to an end. She would return to school come Monday morning, and he would have to haul his ass back to the gas station for another ten hour shift. 

The sheets are pooled around his waist, his glistening chest rising and falling slowly as he peers up at the ceiling. Sex usually took his mind off the gloomy reality that prowled the outskirts of his thoughts. The aftermath of his orgasm still lingers in his stomach and legs, they feel heavy where he sprawls out across the mattress. Today the voices are louder than the euphoric high of busting a nut. 

Yelena sits against the headboard beside him, her dark curls cascading down her shoulders in that post-intimacy way he loved so much. The cigarette hangs loose between her fingers, her gaze fixed ahead when she brings it up for another long drag. He could watch her for hours without ever growing tired, finding something new to obsess over each time — and if he didn't, then he would simply go back to her eyes, her eyes were everything. 

When she notices his lingering stare, she tilts her head with a lopsided grin. "What is it?" she muses around the cigarette, cocking a brow his way.

Jungkook sighs, a long, heavy sigh that had been sitting between his ribs for a while now. "Thinkin'…" 

She huffs, her serene expression doing little to mimic the conflicting feelings inside of him. "Uh-oh, that's never a good thing," Yelena drawls and he resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead muttering a quiet 'shut the fuck up' as he inhales. 

Silence falls over their small bedroom and by the time Jungkook finally speaks again, she's already finished the cigarette and put it out on the tray atop the bedside table. "Just— This," he gestures to the pale walls, the uneven floorboards and their rumpled sheets, "It's not enough." 

Yelena says nothing, but her lack of response only fuels him on. He peers up at her from where he lays, her brown irises reflecting in the afternoon sun, lips slightly parted in a question she has yet to ask. 

"I'm going to give you a good life," Jungkook states. 

She frowns, still slightly dazed from the moment they'd shared but conscious enough to pick up on what he was saying. "You already have," she turns to lay beside him, cheek propped up on her palm. 

Jungkook shakes his head, "Not good enough." The paycheck he received from slaving away at the gas station covered rent and then some. It was hardly a lavish life, and he knew that the small flat was eating away at Yelena, even if she never voiced it out loud. 

His arm hooks around her naked waist, pulling a squeal from her as he tugs her closer. Then he rolls on top of her, elbows bent as his lips brush hers. "I want to give you a real house," he murmurs between lazy kisses, "A big one." 

Yelena giggles beneath him, her hands finding their way to the back of his neck. "With white picket fences?" she wonders, there's a playful edge to the way she says it — but Jungkook is being dead serious. 

"Yes," he presses another kiss to her lips, "Sparkling chandeliers, a fireplace in the living room." He trails his affection to her jaw, tasting the sweat that still clings to her skin, "A large dining table, our own master bedroom…" His mouth finds her neck, breath ghosting over the marks he'd previously left. 

The idea blooms in his mind with each passing beat of his heart and he becomes surer of himself. "Would you like that?" He leans back enough to meet her gaze, and fuck, if she wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes upon. 

Yelena smiles, wide enough for her face to crinkle and her teeth to be put on display. "Yeah," she whispers, "I'd love that." 

It took him less than a second to join their lips together in a kiss full of hope. For a brief moment, he allows himself to believe that he could do more — be better — for her. Tomorrow seems far away, the floors that need to be mopped and the pumps he'll be resetting would not be his future, that much he's sure of. 

Jungkook wasn't a man of many talents. He'd tried to get into music once, begged his father to buy him an electric guitar only to quit after two weeks when he'd accidently snapped one of its strings. Painting was fun, for about three hours, until the color ended up bleeding through the canvas and he was left a frustrated mess. Then there had been chess, soccer, basketball, hell, he'd even tried gardening only for the plants to die under his care. 

One thing Jungkook did possess some know-how for — was tech. Nothing of the extreme sort. He would fix the antenna on the TV at home whenever it started acting up, re-wire the landline to better the sound quality for his mother, he'd even built in a custom speaker into his 8-track to enjoy even louder music. 

He figured that if there was one thing he might've had at least half a shot at, then it would be this. Long nights were spent sketching new models for the already advancing technology. Yelena had whined when he picked apart their landline a third time that week — though Jungkook insisted that he needed to figure out exactly how each part connected. 

It was a tedious process, crumpled papers littering the bedroom as he sat with a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, frantically trying to come up with improvements. And after a month of hard labor he thought he'd gotten a decent grasp on it. He consulted Yelena about some of his ideas, she said they were bound to be a success! 

Feeling rather confident after his girlfriend's praise, Jungkook had built up the courage to pitch said ideas to a few investors. He'd borrowed a suit from his father, combed his unruly hair back, even wiped the charcoal off his eyes. 

When walking across the marbled floor with the dress pants digging into his thighs and the cufflinks snug around his wrists, Jungkook felt like an imposter. He knew little about the corporate world and as he eyed the others in the lobby, he noticed their straightened postures and refined edges, nothing like that of his lazy slouch. 

No one spoke, which suited Jungkook just fine and he got comfortable on one of the unoccupied couches. There he tried to mimic their stance, though ultimately gave up and let his shoulders sag again. 

He lets his eyes wander across the rather futuristic interior. The grey walls were textured to replicate that of stone. Three spheres hung from the high ceiling, their shiny surfaces reflecting him where he sat cross-legged on the low, orange seat. They cost a fortune no doubt, as the rest of the place did. 

To his left there was greenery, a large ficus tree. He reached out to trap one of its leaves between his index and middle finger, only to be disappointed when he found that it was plastic. Turning his attention back to his hands, he instead gets to thinking about his next tattoo, he'd like something on his knuckles. 

A clock ticks slowly in the distance, interfering his thoughts and soon Jungkook finds himself counting each second in small groups of ten. Ten seconds here, ten seconds there. Six of those made a minute — a dozen made two. Three dozen of them later, the door across the room slid open. 

Out came a bitter-looking woman in a pencil skirt. She struts forward, heels clacking against the marble tiles, demanding everyone's attention as she comes to a halt before the cluster of sofas. Then she clears her throat loudly with a 'hmpf' sound, adjusting the clipboard in her hand as she pushes the glasses higher on her nose. 

"Gentlemen," her voice is short and clipped, and she seems to hold no one in regard when she speaks. "How fortunate that you're all here," it came out sarcastically, "You'll have five minutes in there each — don't whine for more time." A scribbling noise follows as she jots something down on the clipboard, drawing a harsh line across it before her eyes turn to peer out over the candidates. 

"Mr. Jeon, welcome inside first." 

The room beyond the door was much darker than the lobby. With only a small overhead light bulb to illuminate the spot he stood under. To his right there was a chalkboard intended for his use, Jungkook hesitated as he eyed it. Across from him was a long table, holding five men in suits. They looked to be in their fifties, possibly early sixties. 

Their conversation was a hushed murmur as they sipped on their coffee and aimlessly flipped through papers. No one seems to have noticed his arrival and if they had, they simply paid him no mind. The clock sounds somewhere behind him, a reminder that time was dire and Jungkook took a small step forward. 

"Hello—" he cringes at how unsure he sounds, "My name is Jungkook. I'm here to…" 

Neither of the men had paused to as much as glance in his direction, all of them occupied with whatever matter was being discussed over their morning coffee. He studies them for a long while, gaze narrowing as he follows the movement of their lips, a muscle in his jaw ticking each time they flick their tongues against the roof of their mouths — their skin pulling taut whenever they grinned to show off yellow-stained teeth. 

The mugs and papers on the table rattle when Jungkook slams his briefcase down on it, effectively drawing all eyes to himself. Not one of them had seen him storm up to where they sat, not one of them seems to have expected it either. He bites back a sneer, shoving the thoughts aside as he clears his throat. 

"Ah, who do we have here?" The man who sits in the middle finally acknowledges him as he leans back in his seat. He looks to be the oldest of the bunch, the mustache above his top lip had begun graying slightly. His dull eyes scan Jungkook up and down with little care as he twists a ballpoint pen between his fingers. 

Jungkook straightens up, towering over them all where he stands — it hardly provided any comfort. "Jeon Jungkook, sir." The formality tastes foul but he forces it out anyway. 

The man nods, glancing toward the briefcase unenthusiastically. "And what do you have for us today?" He sounds bored already, not a great start. The others have yet to speak but at least they were no longer ignoring his presence. 

There's a moment where he hesitates, fingers curling around the handle of the briefcase he'd so carelessly thrown onto the table. The metal latches come undone as Jungkook opens the case, turning it around to show the contents inside. 

All five men lean forward, brows furrowing across their foreheads. "What is the meaning of this?" The one to the left asks as he lifts his gaze. 

Jungkook gestures to the ordinary looking landline he'd brought along with him, then to the wires and copper hardware laying beside it. "It goes inside your telephone, sir." He forces a small smile that doesn't feel at all genuine, "It's a built in sound monitor, meaning you'll get a variety of ring tones other than the standard one." 

He'd tried it out for himself back home. Rather than the obnoxious shrill that most people had become so accustomed to, it now gave a pleasant, synth-like signal whenever a call was received. He presses the button labeled 'zero' twice and a simple melody begins playing. It fills the space between them all for a full minute, and Jungkook gauges their reactions closely — which was damn near impossible as they remained carefully neutral. 

When it comes to an end he swallows, one finger still hovering above the button without pushing down.

The man who'd originally made the inquiry lets out a sharp breath that comes across as half a laugh, and not a kind one. The rest send each other pointed glances, their attention returning to the piece of hardware and telephone inside the suitcase. He did not know if they liked it or not but he'd already wasted more than half his time by showing it off, so he continues briskly, trying not to let their scrutinizing glances bother him. 

"Replacing the ringer current with this installment provides five different sounds which can be altered to your liking. The copper line attaches just as the traditional one would with 90 volts but I believe that it's possible to tweak the quality of—" 

"Listen kid," the man in the middle stretched in his seat. The ballpoint pen dropped slightly between his fingers before he picked it up again. "Getting to pick a song you fancy is cute and all, I mean, what you showed was nice. But there's no money in it." He strokes his mustache, pretending to think it over once more though he hadn't as much as peeked at the mechanism a second time. 

His brows twitch and Jungkook rolls his shoulders as he bites back a snide comment. "There could be. If it was marketed right then surely—" 

"Marketing," the man sighs, "Costs money." He reaches forward to close the briefcase once more. "And I suppose you've thought of how to work around that?"

To that Jungkook can only shake his head. He'd been so caught up developing the new feature that the thought of launching it to the public hadn't crossed his mind. But how hard could it be — just print it on a few posters to garner interest, no? 

The man, however, seems far from impressed. "Advertising it would cost more than its worth," he says, "As would mass production. No one is going out of their way to spend money on a giddy ringtone, especially not with the current state of our economy." 

He taps the blunt end of his pen against the briefcase, "You've got bright ideas kid. But it won't make business." Nudging the case back toward Jungkook, he stifles a yawn. "Don't waste your time on aesthetics and do something useful instead, will you?" The other men huff under their breaths, amused smirks playing on their lips, some of them even commenting on the 'silly' melody. 

Jungkook forces the objection down his throat when the door behind him opens, signaling that his time was up. He says nothing when snatching the briefcase back, sealing it up and turning on his heel to leave. 

Yelena hadn't commented on his slumped shoulders or prolonged silence when he returned home. She simply kissed his cheek and told him that he'd have more luck next time. Ironic, Jungkook thought but held his tongue. 

He sat on the edge of the bed for a long while that night, the copper wires and software he'd spent a month carefully crafting resting in his palms. It looks pathetic. He thumbs the corner of the hardware idly, scoffing to himself before curling his fingers around it. 

"Aesthetics," he mutters to himself before hurling it against the wall. 

Jungkook spends the next couple of weeks picking up more shifts at the gas station. He monitors pumps, deals with drunks by the register who try to bargain for their fuel, restocks shelves and scrubs floors. Each day weighs on him harder than the last. And whenever he wasn't working he was moping in the apartment, chugging beer like it was water. 

Christmas comes and goes, the new year begins and soon spring was in full bloom. He thinks that he might just be promoted to manager at the station if he keeps this up. His parents surely thought him a failure — he knew that he was — even so, they said nothing. Perhaps they were happy enough that he was at least attempting to make a living for himself and Yelena. 

Yelena. 

Jungkook thinks she might be the only thing that gets him through the long hours behind the counter. Whenever the sky seems particularly dull or the thought of resigning becomes too tempting, he always imagines coming home to her. To find her on the couch, sketching new costume designs and chatting away eagerly about the new fabrics they had gotten in for the month. 

Her studies were important to her — her path in life was set straight. Sometimes Jungkook felt as though he was merely following wherever the tides took her as he scrambled to keep up. The idea doesn't bother him as much as it should, before her there had been no reason to do anything but smoke his days away. 

Within Yelena he found his purpose. 

That's why his heart had dropped to his knees when he found her curled into a ball on the bathroom floor that one late evening in March. He'd returned home from another long and dreary shift monitoring pumps and sorting shelves, calling out for his girlfriend when stepping through the front door — only to be met with silence. 

Yelena would always greet him with a kiss on the cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck, adding on to the long list as to why Jungkook knew he wanted to marry her one day. But that night — the flat had been silent. 

Jungkook kicked off his shoes and ventured through the living room. "Baby?" he calls, half-expecting her to launch herself at him from whatever corner she'd been hiding in. Instead the one response he gets are the muffled sobs coming from the bathroom down the hall. 

He moves without thinking, bursting through the door with enough force to have it slam against the wall. "Baby!" He's prepared himself for the worst, at least so he tells himself. But seeing her like this — with her arms hugging her knees to her chest, choking on her own tears as she buries her face against the fabric of her pants — it breaks something in him. 

Gaze scanning the area frantically for the culprit of whatever had upset her, he comes to a stop when he catches sight of the pregnancy test sitting on the counter. Jungkook wasn't a complete moron, the red circle conveyed the exact reason for his girlfriend's distress and he sank to his knees beside her, joining her on the tiled floor. 

"I don't know what to do…" She manages to croak when he pulls her to his chest. Yelena's voice was always so bright and full of confidence. Now it sounds small. She trembles against him, fingers clutching weakly at his shirt as she continues to ramble incoherently, "I-I mean, I'm still in school and I can't just— We can't just…" 

Jungkook is only half listening to what she says. His thoughts have already wandered into territory which they had never before explored. He imagines what this would mean for the two of them, a child, something of their own. The thought of becoming a father terrified him, fuck, he was a terrible role model. Barely took care of himself, how on earth was he supposed to set his own kid straight? 

And yet, he can't deny the way his heart flutters when he sees the look in Yelena's eyes, glossed over with tears — though he weren't so sure they were sad anymore. "I love her terribly already," she admits in a quiet whisper. Jungkook's brain short circuits and he tilts her head back with a puzzled frown. 

"Her?" 

Yelena nods, the corner of her lip twitching into the ghost of that stupid smile he adored so much. "Just a gut feeling," she murmurs with a shrug. 

A gut feeling… Jungkook considers her words, his fingers stroking the line of her jaw carefully. A baby girl. Their baby girl. His entire being shifts in a new direction and he swallows to try and combat his suddenly dry throat. "What do you want to do?" He quietly asks, keeping his tone as neutral as he can, though the hesitation betrays his hope. 

She draws in a long breath, blinking slowly before moving her eyes up to meet his, "I want to keep her." 

Jungkook tries to ignore the fireworks going off inside of him as he leans in to let his nose brush against hers. "Then we will," he does not know where the sudden surge of confidence had come from, but he seizes the moment and presses his lips to hers in a tender kiss. 

Her doubt becomes evident in the way she slowly reciprocates the gesture, he knew her well enough to practically be able to hear the thoughts swirling inside her head. 

When they pull back he lets his forehead rest against hers, finding her gaze through heavy lids. "I'll figure it out. The money, the house, everything." His knuckles brush her cheek, the promise lingering between them, and Jungkook prays that he can make good on it. 

Yelena nods, allowing him to pull her in for another kiss, his next words a mere breath on her tongue: 

"I'll make it work." 

Yelena was fast asleep by the time Jungkook pulled his hoodie on that night. The moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating her figure under the covers as she rests quietly. He tucks the blanket over her shoulders, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead in a wordless goodbye. 

He pads soundlessly across the floor, stopping once he reaches the threshold to their bedroom. Allowing himself one final glance at her peaceful face with the promise he'd made weighing heavy on his heart — Jungkook then slips out of their apartment without hesitation. 

The streets are vacant after midnight and he makes his way down the pavement slowly. He has no real plan, wandering aimlessly past closed shops and empty benches. His hands rest within the front pocket of the large hoodie, March is unforgiving and cold, he should've brought a jacket, he thinks. But he doesn't turn back around, he can't, not until he's figured out what to do. 

Maybe he could pick up a second job? Then again, he was already spending each waking second at the gas station. He would have to sacrifice sleep all together if he wanted to save up enough to move Yelena out of that shitty flat. 

He comes to a halt under one of the streetlights, fingers slipping into the front pocket of his jeans to curl around the lighter he always kept on him. Tongue darting out to wet his dry lips, his other hand fishes out the pack of cigarettes. He plucks one out, flicks the lighter once, casting a flame which he shields with his palm. 

But he never lights it. 

His mind strays by the pregnancy test, still sitting on the bathroom counter, the one that had changed the trajectory of his life just a couple of hours ago. Jungkook could be a father a year from now — responsible for a life beyond his own. He twirls the cigarette between two fingers with a frown. Then he tosses the entire pack into the nearest bin and keeps walking. 

He's made it a couple of blocks when the first droplet lands on his cheek, the next one on the tip of his nose. The rain picks up the longer he walks, turning from a soft patter to a steady fall. It soaks through his clothes and he pulls the hood over his head to little avail. 

The pavement turns shiny, reflecting the street lights in blurry patches. Water splatters beneath the soles of his shoes as he trudges forward, disobeying the wind's harsh tugs as it tries to pull him back. 

He rounds a corner a while later, coming face to face with a tall building he recognizes with contempt. Its big windows, illuminated entrance sign, the men in suits, their frowns and sneers, their rejection that still wounds his pride to acknowledge. He stands there for a long moment, studying the large empire with a scrutinizing glare. 

One day, he thinks to himself. One day he'll prove those self righteous assholes wrong. "Fuckin' aesthetics my ass," he spits before turning away. 

Jungkook is soaked from head to toe when he reaches the next big street crossing. The lights are blaring red but not a single car has passed him since he set out over an hour ago. He keeps his feet on the white lines when he makes his way across, counting them under his breath. 

"One, two, three… Seven, eight, nine…" He frowns when reaching the last one, stomping his left foot against it once to make up for the road's lack of decency by ending on an uneven number. He mulls over this for a couple of seconds as he makes his way onto the sidewalk, and it's not until he finally lifts his gaze that he sees it. 

It's right there — squeezed between the laundromat and the bakery. Its empty display window and worn door calling to him like a siren would her sailor. 

He steps forward, halting by the large window where he's greeted with his own sullen reflection. Jungkook looks like shit but does not dwell on it, no, his attention is captured by the crooked sign stuck to the inside of the glass. He reads it once, twice, just to be sure: "FOR RENT." 

At first he shrugs the idea off. He couldn't afford to gamble like that, hell, he barely made enough at the gas station to cover his and Yelena's expenses, much less something like this. Yet his feet refuse to move, keeping him rooted to the spot as he squints against the harsh rain. 

The space was small but it would surely do. There was a counter to the left, another door which looked like it lead into a storage room of sorts. He could put up shelves on his own, maybe— No. He shakes his head but his eyes are already going over the number attached to the sign, memorizing the sequence without meaning to. 

There's a phone booth down the street and despite the late hour he heads for it, cutting the distance in less than ten long strides. He seeks refuge from the rain, wet fingers slipping against the buttons as he dials for the only person he could think to reach for in the moment. 

The line rings for a full minute and he's forced to listen to the static noise as he presses the handset to his ear. His teeth have torn the flesh of his bottom lip apart by the time the call connects and a familiar voice fills the small space he stands in. 

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" His words are groggy with sleep and a pang of guilt twists in Jungkook's chest at the chiding tone that was used. 

"Father I—" he turns to the empty display window and swallows, "I need a favor." 

Jungkook feels a strange sense of pride as he twists the keys in the lock a week later and steps inside his store for the first time. With the help of his parents he'd been able to place a down payment on the first three months' rent and while the space could use some sprucing up — it would get the job done. 

He spends his evenings off work cleaning the place, dusting off empty shelves and mopping floors — something he'd gotten very good at might he add. Yelena came to lend a hand, her artistic skills coming in clutch where his lacked. She helped him print a makeshift sign which they hung in the display window and that very next Monday he was proudly able to open the doors to 'Jeon Electronics Repair and Part Distributions.' 

"You sure about this?" Yelena had asked as she watched him get dressed that morning. She'd personally tailored his clothes for him, sewing on a logo they had come up with together onto the chest part. 

Jungkook nodded, combing his hair back with extra care as he peered at himself in the mirror. "As sure as I'll ever be," he'd said. And even though his palms were clammy with sweat and his heart racing in his chest — he knew that it was the truth. 

The shop opened early that morning, when the streets were littered with people all rushing to their 9-5. Jungkook watches as they pass by through the large window, busying himself with rearranging the TVs and landlines which he'd decorated the shelves with. 

He checks the time, 8:17 am. Seventeen minutes. His fingers tap against the counter when he retakes his place behind it, waiting anxiously for his first customer. By noon the store had been void of people, save for himself. Yelena brought him lunch on her break from class. When she asked how things were going he'd lied. 

The first few days were rough, horrible even. The hours went by without a single interruption and Jungkook grew all the more restless as time progressed. He'd managed to negotiate his hours at the gas station to weekends and nights — which wasn't ideal but he knew that he couldn't afford to give up the treacherous job just yet. 

Stubborn as he was, he returned Monday through Friday during that first week, flipping the open sign with more force for each day. He saw less and less of Yelena, only managing a brief thirty minutes during dinner time before he had to leave for his shift. 

She never pointed out the bags under his eyes, or the fact that he had yet to mention any sort of success within his new career path. But Jungkook knew that she was thinking long and hard about him at night, he would find her tossing and turning in bed whenever he returned home at dawn, managing a quick nap before setting out to work again. 

By Wednesday during his second week, time began to blur. His lack of proper sleep was quickly catching up and the ringing silence of his small shop easily lulled him into slumber, leaving him to doze off by the counter more than often. Had he been better rested, he might've heard the door chime that afternoon. Instead, the voice of an older woman is what brings him back to life. 

"Excuse me—" 

The light tap to his shoulder jolts him awake, his head snapping up from where it had been lolling against his folded arms. With bleary eyes he squints against the harsh light, blinking rapidly as the lady before him floats into vision. The sun behind her reflects off her back, casting a halo around her frame, making her look just like like the saint he'd been waiting for all along. 

Jungkook clears his throat, straightening up despite the protests of his aching limbs. "Uh— Yes, hello." He rubs a sheepish hand across the nape of his neck. 

His first customer was a woman in her late forties. With short, black hair in a bob, clad in a long, navy coat that reaches to her knees. Her freshly painted bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, eyes flitting around the shop. "I saw the sign and…" she hesitates, "Do you think you could take a look at this for me?" 

It's then he notices the landline she clutches tightly in both hands. He blinks once, mentally slapping himself to make sure that she was real, that this was actually happening. "Yeah— Sure, no problem." He's quick to slip back into the service role he'd developed during his shifts at the gas station as he retrieves the black box from her. 

"What seems to be the problem?" he asks when turning the telephone over in his palms. 

The lady hums and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Well, it keeps cutting in and out whenever I make calls. My husband tried to mend it but I have a feeling he's just made it worse…" 

Jungkook nods, all too familiar with his father trying to get the TV at home to work by smacking the entire thing a couple of times before getting frustrated. He pinches the cord between two fingers, "It could be a faulty handset, or perhaps a damaged patch cable." 

His diagnosis is followed by silence and when he glances up he finds the woman regarding him with a puzzled frown. "It's an easy fix," he says, the corner of his mouth tugging into a lopsided grin. 

"Really?" she wonders, hope striking her features, "You don't think I'll need to purchase a new one?" 

He shakes his head confidently, "Not at all. I'll need an hour or so if that's okay." Leaning over the counter, he points to the window, "There's a cafe just across the street if you'd like to wait around nearby." 

The lady sighs in relief, some of tension ebbing away from her stiff posture as she nods. "Okay, I'll do that." She bids him farewell and Jungkook listens for the sound of her departure before turning to the landline in front of him. 

With no proper education on things like this, he figured he would just have to work with the knowledge he already had. He'd messed with the cords to the handset at home a handful of times and after spending over a month picking stuff like this apart to peer inside, he felt he had a good grasp on things. 

The world outside keeps moving, people pass by the display window as they talk eagerly among themselves, the sun moving lower across the sky. But the air inside his workshop remains peaceful, the reigning silence interrupted only by the sounds of him screwing the handset apart to locate the issue. 

Just as he presumed, one of the wires had nearly burnt through. Replacing it would erase the problem again. He heads over to the small storage unit where he kept the spares he'd bought with what was left of the money his father lent him. 

When ruffling through the box of copper, however, his attention catches on the same hardware he'd developed a couple of weeks back. The rejection he'd faced by the investors still makes him frown, their words tasting bitter in his mouth. Aesthetics. Cute. He pinches the wire he'll be needing, turning back to the door which he'd come through just a minute ago. 

But before he can walk out of the room, he pauses. He throws a glance over his shoulder, jaw clenching as he battles himself. His free hand closes into a fist before releasing again and Jungkook exhales a sharp breath. Without stopping to question his next course of action, he grabs the hardware and heads out to patch up the phone waiting on the counter. 

The lady returns just as they agreed upon an hour later. She pauses when she finds that her landline looked no different than it had when she dropped it off. "Is it.." pointing toward it with a subtle frown, "Is it fixed?" 

Jungkook gives a tilt of his chin, "Should be good as new. Why don't you try calling someone?" 

She hesitates for a second before picking up the handset and bringing it to her ear. Her polished nail moves across the buttons as she dials a number familiar to her, letting it ring for a while before it connects. "Hello— Hi honey," she pauses, "Oh no. I'm at the workshop, the guy here just got it fixed for us." 

Whilst listening to, who Jungkook presumes to be her husband, on the other end, she sends him a small smile which he returns — oddly enough. People had never been his thing, but seeing the sweet lady's face light up at the prospect of her beloved telephone working again — a result of his work — does something to him.

"No it's not cutting out at all, it's wonderful! Yes I'll let you know when I'm home— are you working late? Ah okay." 

She finishes the call with a shy tilt of her lips. "Thank you," she says, already reaching for her purse in order to pay when Jungkook suddenly remembers himself. 

"Oh, right!" he stops her halfway, "I've added something for you." Reaching for the box, he presses the button displaying the 'zero' with two quick taps. Shortly after, a soft tune begins to play. It fills the small shop, the synth a lot more pleasant than the regular high-pitched shrill the landlines would make. 

"It's a custom ring tone," he explains, "The hardware has five different tracks installed, you alter between them by pressing this button twice, a little tedious but it gets the job done." He swallows as he lifts his gaze to meet hers, anxiously awaiting her verdict. If she hated it then he was bound to be out of business by the end of the day. 

But the woman seems strangely enamored by this new revelation. "Really?" she tries the feature for herself, "And I can change them myself?"

Jungkook nods, "Yeah, anyone can do it." 

She hums a soft 'Ah, I see' leaning forward to inspect this new addition closer. The tune comes to a gentle end, leaving the two of them in silence once more. "Do I have to pay extra for this?" she wonders as her brows knit together. 

"No, no," Jungkook blurts when scratching the top of his head, "I added it without consulting you first so it's free of charge." 

The lady smiles, "This is amazing actually." She tries another of the tracks he'd installed, a look of amusement on her face, "I've never seen anything quite like it." 

She takes her leave shortly after and Jungkook exhales a breath as he slumps back against the counter. He counts the bills she left him — $20 — it wasn't enough for a house with white picket fences, but it was surely a start. 

Jungkook was rather surprised to find a short, chubby man waiting by the front of his workshop when he arrived at 7:50 am that very next morning. He was peering through the display window, thick brows furrowed deeply across his forehead. When he noticed Jungkook in the reflection he turned to him. His round face lit up, "Hello there," he says, greeting the other with a firm handshake. 

Glancing down at their joint hands, Jungkook blinks in surprise. "Hello…" he nods, "Can I uh help you?" Part of him wants to let the man know that the shop wasn't actually open yet, as though the big fat 'CLOSED' sign that hung on the door wasn't evidence enough. Though this was merely his second customer, turning him away would be bad for business, he thinks. 

The man nods, "Yes actually—" he cuts himself off as he reaches inside the bag he'd been carrying, fishing out a telephone box of the same model Jungkook had repaired just a day ago. "A colleague of mine told me that his wife had been here yesterday. He mentioned that she had a new set of ringtones installed. He explained them to be quite pleasant and you see the regular one makes my head ache terribly." Waving a dismissive hand to nothing in particular, he then turns to peer up at Jungkook with hopeful eyes, "Say— How much do you charge for the feature?" 

That week Jungkook had kept the store open Saturday through Sunday as well, pulling in more customers due to the unconventional hours. He'd made over $200 in the span of four days which was enough to boost his confidence and keep him going into the next week.

The door chime went off more times than he could count, people were spilling in from the streets faster than he was able to keep up. Most of them came in for simple repairs, a few through recommendations from friends and colleagues who had paid for his services before. 

His days were spent behind the counter, quick trips back and forth to the storage unit as he picked apart everything from landlines to heavy TVs that people somehow managed to haul all the way to his store. Often he would tweak the existing hardware, complimenting it with new, smarter and quicker features. 

"You adjust the volume with this one," Jungkook explained to the frowning man in front of him. 

He was turning a small remote control in his hands, accompanied by two simple buttons. "I can do it from the couch?" the man quires behind his bushy mustache. There was quiet hesitation lacing his question, like he thought the idea too good to be true. 

But Jungkook simply took the liberty of showing the man himself. He plugged the TV in, flicking on the first channel he came across before upping the volume with the simple remote control. "As long as you remain within range of the antenna it'll be fine," he explains when lowering the blaring sound effects of the cartoons playing. 

The man's furrowed brows had raised high enough on his head for Jungkook to get a good look at his eyes for the first time. "Indeed, this is extraordinary," he mused when taking the controller, testing the adjustments for himself. Before leaving he had shook Jungkook's hand with both of his, tipping him generously for his work. 

When the three month lease was up he'd made enough money to rent the place on his own. His job at the gas station was abandoned in favor of tending to his workshop — which was growing rapidly. Word spread quickly and all the more customers turned up on his doorstep, everyone eager to purchase the new installments he exclusively provided. 

As time passed Yelena grew all the more pregnant. She had put her studies on hold and was helping out around the shop as often as she could — even when Jungkook was breathing down her neck about giving it a rest and thinking about herself and the baby. 

"I've got it covered," he would say as they ate lunch together behind the counter, "You should be taking it easy." His gaze dropped to the round swell of her stomach, fingers reaching out to brush absently over the bump before pressing his palm flat against it. 

"I'm fine," she insisted, "Besides, I feel useless just sitting around at home all day." 

Jungkook hums, setting his unfinished chicken wrap down before sinking to his knees before her. Above him, Yelena protests, but he's hearing none of it. "Hey kid," his breath hovers above the fabric of her shirt, the material stretched thin to accommodate the life growing beneath. "Tell your mom to quit bein' so stubborn," he mumbles against the curve of her belly, "She's giving us both a headache." 

"Jungkook! Get up!" she hisses, "Customers could walk in and—" 

"Shh, shh," he hushes her with a press of his lips to the center of her stomach. "You hear that? There she goes again, always worrying about something." The scoff she emits only makes him smile and he nuzzles against her, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent of her perfume like a man starved. 

"Daddy's got everything covered, needn't to worry about a thing." 

"Geez, you're spoiling her already," she says, though there was no bite to her words. 

Jungkook hums, "Can't help it. She'll be my princess, I intend to treat her as such." 

"Princess, huh? What does that make me?" 

He grins, tilting his head back enough to peer up at her through his lashes, "My queen, of course." Fingers lacing with hers, he brings her hand to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss to her knuckles with reverent care, "Whom I intend to worship until my days on this earth are over." 

Yelena giggles at that, the curly ends of her hair bouncing as she shakes her head. "You're fucking ridiculous you know that?" 

"Yeah," he agrees with another press of his lips, "Ridiculously in love." 

Then came the day that would change his life forever. 

On a dark and dreary December night, just as the first snow had fallen — a faint cry had pierced the air inside the hospital room. 

Jungkook was kneeling by Yelena's side, her hand squeezed tightly in his as she fought through the pain with agonized yells. Each sound cut through his chest likes knifes, panic settling deep within his gut at the sight of the woman he loved, suffering like this. 

"It's okay, I'm here baby—" his voice is barely heard over her gasps and Jungkook feels truly helpless as he brushes a strand of her from her sheen forehead. "You're doing so good," he tries to soothe her but Yelena isn't listening. 

"Almost there," one of the nurses sat between her legs says. Her calm demeanor only throws him off further, how could she just smile when his girlfriend was in excruciating pain? "One more push," she encourages. 

Yelena's next scream has him resting his forehead against her shoulders, eyes screwing shut as he prays for her suffering to come to an end. He feels her body tense up against him, the blunt ends of her nails tearing through his skin as she clings to him. Jungkook lets her, his free hand keeping a white-knuckled grip on the bed sheets as he listens to her whimpers. 

Then it all stops. 

The room goes silent and Yelena's fingers go slack in his hold. He doesn't dare open his eyes, doesn't even dare lift himself up as he swallows thickly. But his ears betray him, the second that first unmistakable cry reaches him, he locks up. 

"Congratulations," the nurse's cheerful tone is barely audible, "You have a beautiful daughter." 

Jungkook's head whips in her direction, his gaze falling on the red, squirming human in her arms. She's covered in blood which the assistant nurse quickly wipes from her face before wrapping her up in blue cloth. He feels his throat dry up, all the color draining from his face as he fixates on the tiny life. 

"Do you want to hold her?" 

"W-What?" he croaks, blinking as he peers up at the nurse who'd walked over to where he sits on the floor. "Me? I don't know—" But he's already on his feet, hands awkwardly outstretched, not knowing what the hell to do with them. 

The nurse, however, doesn't hesitate as she places the small bundle in his arms. The moment he gets to hold her for the first time he feels his knees buckle. His first thought was that she was tiny, barely the size of his forearm. The second was how utterly beautiful she looks. 

Her face is scrunched up, her cries now silent as she wriggles around in his embrace. One of her arms had managed to slip free from the blanket and Jungkook's first instinct is to reach out. Her hand meets his index finger, warm to the touch as she clings to something she cannot yet see. 

"She's…" he trails off, unable to finish whatever sentence may have waited on his tongue. Instead, he brings her closer, letting that same little hand reach for his jaw, then his cheek. His vision blurs with tears that he does nothing to hide, allowing them to fall silently. 

For all that Jungkook was — he suddenly felt lost. The only thing he knew for certain was that she was his. His to love and his to protect. 

Yelena shifts slightly on the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh that has him turning to her in an instant. "Are you okay?" he reaches for her, a trembling hand finding hers as he tries to take back control over the emotions swirling within him.

She nods, a content smile playing on her lips. "Never been better," she says, her tired eyes flickering to their daughter. The nurse steps back in, gently moving the squirming baby over to Yelena, adjusting her against her mother's chest. Yelena embraces her like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Jungkook feels his heart grow double its size in his chest. 

He's back on his knees in a flash, crowding them both on the bed as he hovers as close as he can. "She looks like you," he murmurs, not knowing where he was finding the words for his mind was a mess by this point. 

Yelena chuckles, "You can tell already?" 

"Yes," he breathes. Just then, she finally opens her eyes, not a lot, a few careful blinks against the harsh and sterile overhead lights. But in them he sees the exact same warmth that had made him fall in love with her mother in the first place, "she's got your eyes." 

Their daughter makes a small noise, wriggling slightly before settling again, and Jungkook tracks each movement with microscopic precision, refusing to miss as much as a beat. 

"Do you have any names in mind?" the assistant nurse asks. 

Jungkook frowns, him and Yelena had discussed a few back and forth — none of them really sticking. Though there was one that stood out. She thought it was pretty, a name fit for a princess. He thought it reminded him of morning rain, when the world was still quiet and gentle. 

Yelena gives him a small nod and Jungkook turns to the nurse, unable to keep the smile from his lips. 

"Rayne." 

Taking care of a kid was a lot harder than it looked. It came with no instruction manual and was a lot more hands-on than he could have ever imagined. The first couple of weeks back home with Rayne were filled with sleepless nights. Him and Yelena would take turns rolling out of bed to go soothe their crying daughter.

"Baby," Yelena groaned as she tucked her face into the crook of his neck, "It's your night." And Jungkook would heave a sigh, nodding as he forced himself up and over to the little crib they had placed by the foot of their bed. 

Sometimes it would take minutes for her to fall back asleep, others he could spend a full hour rocking her back and forth, walking laps around the small flat and running his fingers through his hair. "Shh, just— Hush," he'd whisper to his crying girl, not that it ever helped — in fact it only seemed to make her cry louder. 

But when she wasn't ruining his chances of sleep, Rayne was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Jungkook found himself by her crib whenever work wasn't keeping him away. He talked to her, let her wrap her tiny hand around his finger. Most of all he loved the way she smelled — loved burying his nose in what little hair sat atop her head and simply breathe in. Yelena would laugh and call him silly, Jungkook never minded. 

He'd never thought of himself as a family man. But seeing the two of them together made him realize that he couldn't possibly wish for another outcome. Yelena was a perfect mother, and though she knew just as little about this as him, she took on her role with confidence. 

Each time he caught sight of her on the couch, with Rayne in her arms as she spoke to her so lovingly — his heart stumbled over its next beat. The world as he knew it had changed, now his daughter and the woman of his dreams were the only two that mattered. 

It didn't take long for Jungkook to realize that their current apartment was far too small for them. This wasn't a home fit for a growing family, least of all for Rayne. He wanted her to grow up someplace better. Where she could learn to take her first steps, say her first words and safely play with all the toys he intended to buy for her. 

His business, however, was taking off in tandem with his daughter's teeth growing in. The small little workshop had been upgraded to a larger one and he'd even been able to to afford his first two hires. Having extra hand around the place meant more customers, and more customers meant more money. By the time Rayne was six months old — Jungkook had scraped together enough to put down a deposit on a house he'd been eyeing for a while. 

"Can I open them yet?" Yelena had asked whilst being blindly led down the street. 

"Not yet," he mused, fighting off a stupid grin as they came to a halt before the gate. He savored the moment a second longer, then he let his hands drop to his sides, "Now." 

Taking a step to the side so to better read her expression, he watched as Yelena's gaze fell on their new home for the first time. It was a large, three-story house with bright walls and big windows that allowed for the sun to spill inside. 

Jungkook had been fantasizing about owning a property in this neighborhood ever since they first got their old apartment. And after much hard work, he'd finally made it possible. 

"Oh my—" Yelena presses a hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes even though she had yet to step inside. Her attention drops to the gate they stand by, fingers brushing the railing. "A white picket fence," she murmurs, glancing toward where it looped around the entire front yard. Nothing else came out of her mouth, rendered speechless by the same house they'd dreamed of together. 

"Wait until you see the kitchen," Jungkook grinned, already grabbing her by the hand as he led her up the graveled path to the porch. 

They settled in immediately and got to decorating the space. Yelena had always possessed more of an artistic touch than him, and he was happy to let her take the wheel as she ordered furniture and picked out tapestry. The same big chandeliers they had discussed back then were hung up in every room, sparkling in the morning rays. 

Jungkook knew that this would be his forever home. This would be the place where he and Yelena grew old together, where he would wake up by her side decades from now, still kissing her cheek and basking in a love that never died. 

For a long while things stayed that way. 

Yelena finished school and went on to open her own clothing store, with the help of Jungkook, who now considered himself a businessman. He himself, had been able to rent an entire floor in one of those ridiculously large skyscraper buildings — his office. Yelena had been there on opening day, insisting on cutting a red ribbon to make it official. He went along with it because he found her endearing. 

There was no longer a need to worry about money, about rent or whatever the future might hold. He simply devoted his days to the mother of his child, spending each second soaking up all the love he felt but never knew quite how to put into words. Suppose that's why his proposal had them both giggling over each other's sentences. 

Jungkook had known that he wanted to marry Yelena for nearly four years. Though he'd held off until the time was right — until he could proudly ask for her hand and promise her his life. 

He took her to dinner, to one of the local restaurants downtown, where they used to go back when everything was still new. Then they went on a walk under the moon, gazing up at the stars as she rambled on about the different constellations. They promenaded until they reached a familiar plaza. 

Yelena didn't recognize the fountain at first, too busy counting the lights above but when she did, she froze in her tracks. "Oh my god—" she said as she rushed up to the ledge, leaning over to dip her hand in the water, "Baby, this is where we met!" 

He watched her quietly, admiring the way her hair fall down her shoulders, the easy smile on her lips and the sound of her laughter. Then he got down on one knee, his heart thundering in his chest as he waited for her to turn back around. She did so with a frown, as though she was about to ask why he wasn't saying anything, only to gasp when she understood why. 

Jungkook had never been good with all that sappy shit. Long speeches professing his undying love were not his thing, still, he tried his best for her. He marveled at her beauty, her kindness, how grateful he was to have such a woman be the mother of his child — how is only wish now was to be able to call her his wife. 

They got married three months later. It was a big wedding, almost as extravagant as her. Each decoration was tailored to her style, the flowers, the table cloths, the archway where they stood as they took their vows. He spent hours pacing before the ceremony, practicing his speech over and over. His hair was not the wild and unruly mess it had been but a neatly combed through part of dark locks. He'd even taken out his piercings, they no longer felt like a part of him — this Jungkook was a brand new one — a married man. 

His mother cried, his father too, Jungkook cried as well, but no one shed more tears than Yelena as she said, "I do." 

Leaving Rayne with their parents, they took off on a long honeymoon consisting of endless beaches and late sunsets under palm trees. There he made love to her every single day, worshiping each limb until his kisses were littered all across her skin. He thought he couldn't be happier, but was quickly proven wrong shortly after returning home as Yelena told him that she was pregnant again. 

Jungkook was going to have a son. 

A tiny copy of himself running around their large estate. Someone he could teach how to be a man — as much as he know how to at least. And Cassian was perfect, utterly so. 

"Let me take a picture of you!" His mother said as they all gathered in their living room. They had returned home with Cassian only two days prior, but his parents were eager to see their second grandchild. Jungkook had tried to talk her out of it but there was no changing her mind. 

Yelena guided him down into an armchair, placing the tiny baby in one of his arms as she took her spot beside him. Rayne climbed into his lap cuddling up against his chest as she clutched at his shirt. 

"Well you'll have to smile a little, son," his father coaxed, pulling a laugh from his wife who rested her hand on his shoulder. 

At that, Jungkook did actually smile, he probably looked like an idiot. Not that it mattered. Nothing but this mattered — his family. He peered down at Cassian who wriggled in his embrace, feeling his lips pull into a grin so wide it almost hurt. 

His mother snapped the picture a second later, cooing at how adorable they looked. Jungkook knew he would treasure this moment forever. 

Life had this strange way of turning everything upside down when you least expect for it to. It was funny, how such an unsuspecting sunrise could lead to such a grim sunset. 

The day had started off just as normal, with him kissing Yelena goodbye on the front porch. She would be working from home while they waited for new fabrics at the store, which meant the house would be hers and the children's until that evening. Leaving his family was always the hardest part of his morning, and his kids had not made it any easier on him. 

Rayne clung to him a little tighter, her tiny arms wrapping around his leg as she sighed a quiet farewell. He'd bent down to embrace her properly, pressing his lips to her temple before straightening up and doing the same to Cassian who was held in his mother's arms. Then he had gotten in his car without as much as a clue of what was to come. 

It had been a slow morning for Jungkook as he sorted through paperwork by his desk, longing to return home. The ticking of the clock was all that could be heard for the hours leading up to lunch, save for the rustle of folders and papers as he rearranged things without actually taking a proper look. 

The call came early that afternoon. Jungkook had had half a mind to ignore it at first, not feeling like dealing with anymore investors at the moment. But something had told him to pick it up, be it the weird twist in his gut or the headache building subtly behind his eyes. So he'd reached for the handset despite his better judgment, bringing it to his ear and exhaling a deep breath. 

"Mr. Jeon?" 

It hadn't been an investor. 

"I'm calling from Amity Hospital regarding your mother and father in law. It would be best if you could get here as soon as possible." 

Jungkook did not know Mr. and Mrs. Emerson all that well. He had met them only a handful of times, the last being for Cassian's third birthday in June — that was three months ago. They were quite reserved people, even around their own grandchildren, though Jungkook knew they meant a great deal to Yelena, and her to them. 

He also knew that by the time the hospital had called to inform him about the accident — she must've already been there. So he rushed to his feet, whatever means he'd had of getting any work done disregarded in favor of his hurting wife. 

The drive was only twenty minutes, yet it felt like he sat behind the wheel for an hour, swerving through traffic and stepping on the gas a little harder than necessary. But once he made it inside and spotted Yelena on the floor by a few ambulance workers, he knew he'd been too late. 

She was all trembling limbs and shaky sobs in his arms when he finally reached her. The doctors had advised against seeing the bodies. "They do not look like your parents anymore," one of them said, the truck which hit their car had made sure of that. But she wouldn't listen, not even to Jungkook as he tried to reason with her. 

They stayed in the morgue for over an hour, her wails echoing off the sterile walls and flickering lights as she cried her heart out in front of the people who'd raised her. The children were at his parents house, safely hidden away from the anguish their mother was going through. Jungkook never left her side, but even then, there was nothing he could do to lessen the ache. 

Mr. and Mrs. Emerson died at only fifty-two and fifty-five. 

Yelena did not eat for three days. She barely left their bed and when she did, it was to make a quick trip to the bathroom before burrowing herself under the covers again. Day and night passed without much meaning for her and the endless sleep she succumbed to. The children's stay at his parents turned from a simple overnight one to almost an entire week. 

Jungkook hadn't been to the office at all. There was no space in his mind for work. He sat by the edge of their shared bed for hours, gently stroking her limp arm up and down. She would never acknowledge him, never respond to his whispered pleas and the calling of her name. 

By day four he spoonfed her soup. He gave it to her in small, manageable bites which she took without heaving as much as a breath. Yelena was always particular about her appearance, but right now she looks nothing like the woman he knows. Her hair is a wild nest atop her head, her clothes wrinkled and plastered to her body, lips chapped and dry. 

She doesn't try to stop him when he lifts her into his arms and Jungkook says nothing as he carries her toward the bathroom. Her body is boneless against his chest, her legs and arms dangling uselessly with each step he takes. 

The children would be returning home this afternoon. He could not keep them from their mother any longer — but he could spare them of witnessing her like this. 

He sits her down on the closed toilet lid. Then he undresses her carefully. The fabric smells but it barely registers, no, he's far too focused on the sickeningly pale hue to her face, the line of her collarbone that had become far too prominent after only a few days of starvation. 

Yelena doesn't shy away from being stripped bare, the only sign that she was even feeling anything but sorrow, was the shiver that ripples through her as the cold air nips at her skin. 

He runs a bath for her, filling the tub with warm water that he hopes will soothe her weak body and ease her plagued mind. Rolling his sleeves to his elbows, he transfers her gently. The goosebumps fade from her naked arms and chest, it fills him with momentary relief — though it vanishes when he sees the look on her face.

Jungkook has never lost someone close to him. Doesn't know what it feels like to grieve the people who gave you life. What he does know is that it will pass, with time. He just needs to be there for her, care for her when she's unable to care for herself. He could do that, he would do that. 

The sponge is lathered with soap and he squeezes it out into the water before bringing it to her shoulder. She flinches at the touch, only for a moment, but the small reaction was the first he'd gotten out of her in days now. He continues to wash her, making sure to get every inch of her body. 

Yelena sits quietly in the tub, the water around her is still except for the soft ripple whenever he dipped the sponge in it. He moves across her chest, over and between her breasts, down her stomach, thighs, calves and feet. She would always squirm whenever he kissed the inside of her knee, saying that it tickled. Today she doesn't even react. 

He rubs shampoo into her frizzy hair, massaging her scalp gently, the same way he would when she'd had a long day at work. It takes him nearly twenty minutes to untangle each lock, careful not to tug on the ends too hard and cause her pain. 

Once he pulls the drain and empties the tub she still hasn't moved as much as an inch. Wordlessly he lifts her back into his arms, grabbing a towel on his way before heading back into their bedroom. 

It feels like dressing up a doll when he pulls her favorite shirt over her head, tucking her arms through the sleeves and pulling it down her torso. He picks out things she would wear around the house — familiar pieces that he knows the children will recognize. 

Then he pulls her into his lap, brushing through her damp hair slowly as he speaks to her. He rambles on about whatever comes to mind, their children, work, the new sofa he was planning on purchasing. Multiple kisses are placed to the nape of her neck, her shoulder, the top of her head. 

Once he's finished she looks better. Not good, but no longer the corpse he'd found in his bed this morning. His thumb brushes over the hollow of her cheek, the shadows under her eyes — he doesn't know how to hide those. 

Jungkook tries to smile when he opens the door for his parents and children half an hour later. Both Cassian and Rayne are flinging themselves into his arms, and he hugs them back harder than he ever had. His mother offers to stay, he can tell that she means well, that she's only concerned. Still, he shakes his head and says that it's fine. The last thing Yelena needs is to be reminded of what she'd lost. 

"Can we go see mother now?" Rayne asks against his shoulder. He hesitates, prolonging the inevitable would only make matters worse. So he takes them upstairs, to where he'd left Yelena on the bed. 

She's sitting in the same spot where he'd dressed her, long hair almost dry by now. Her gaze is fixed to the far wall, the slow blinks and steady breaths she takes are the only sign of life within her. 

Rayne approaches first, hopping up onto the mattress beside her mother. "Hi mom," she says when placing a small hand on her knee, "Are you feeling better now?" An innocent question really. The kids knew what had happened, at least, as well as his own mother and father had been able to explain the concept of death to them. 

Yelena barely reacts to the gentle pat, but her eyes shift over to her daughter — it's enough to make Rayne smile. "It's okay," she says, "Your mom and dad are with the angels and the angels are nice." 

She receives no answer but doesn't seem deterred by at as she wraps her arms around her mother's waist, burying her face against her side. Yelena's lifeless eyes track the movement, but she never attempts to reciprocate the hug. 

A small tug to his sleeve makes Jungkook turn toward Cassian who had shifted to stand slightly behind him. He wears a deep frown, making him look almost frightened. His gaze flickers over to the bed and he makes a pitiful sound at the back of his throat, "Mommy is scary." 

His words were quiet enough for only Jungkook to hear, but they still cut deep. He crouches down, coming eye level with his son who stood no more than three feet tall. Reaching a hand up to stroke his dark hair back, he says, "Mommy is feeling a little sad right now. Sad people don't always look the same as happy ones, but that's still your mom. You don't have to be scared of her."

Cassian nods, a tiny tilt of his chin as he glances toward his mother and Rayne on the bed. He did not seem convinced by Jungkook's words but he did bring himself over to give her a small hug. 

Yelena did not return his embrace either, still sitting stiff as a statue on the edge of the mattress as she gazed at her children with emptiness. 

The following weeks were difficult. Jungkook tried to juggle everything at once. From taking the children back and forth to day care, getting through his busy work days and making time to tend to Yelena who was slowly getting out of bed on her own in the mornings. He spent less and less time in the office, one of the spare rooms had been converted into a makeshift study where he was able to focus for a few hours at a time. 

By the one month mark things were starting to look up. Yelena spoke again, and even though her voice lacked its previous charisma, she was no longer sitting in silence. She would ask about the kids' day, if she felt up to it she would even read them bedtime stories. 

"I can cook tonight," she said when coming downstairs to find Jungkook in the kitchen. He never considered himself a great chef, but the past couple of weeks forced him into learning a bunch of new recipes as he tried to make something his wife would eat with a little more joy. 

"You don't have to," he assured her, arm sliding around her waist as he pulled her to his chest — a small semblance of normalcy amidst everything. "Rest, I'll take care of it," he murmurs when pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She shook her head, "I want to." 

Slowly they found their way back to what had once been. The road was never straight, there were still days where all she wanted to do was lay in bed, still nights where she cried into the crook of his neck as he held her through the pain. But it was worth every rare smile and every soft chuckle under her breath when he said something stupid. 

She went back to work not long after — only for a few hours at first, then a full week, then another. Jungkook thought that this was their turning point, the future was looking bright again. But he quickly found that the reason for her newfound happiness hadn't come from his continuos support and efforts, at least not entirely. 

It started small at first, like all things dangerous do. He noticed the empty bottle in the bathroom cabinet, on a shelf too high for Rayne and Cassian to reach. "For the headaches," Yelena told him with a shrug. 

Jungkook knew it to be a lie, and yet, he didn't try to stop her. He believed that if it took away the darkness — then perhaps it was okay. It was just pain killers after all. But one bottle every two weeks quickly spiraled into one every couple of days. And the darkness she was chasing away was replaced with something much more grave. 

"Honey!" 

Yelena's voice alerted him from down the hall and Jungkook glanced up from the papers on his desk just in time to see her stepping through the door to his study. "Yes, my love?" he asked, already setting his work aside as he straightened up in his seat. 

She said nothing at first, regarding him with calculating eyes before frowning. "Have you seen my meds? I could've sworn I placed them on the top shelf in the—" 

"I threw them out." 

His response makes her tense, shoulders drawing up as her gaze snaps to him. "What?" she huffs, a hint of disbelief creeping into the word. She didn't believe him, that much was clear. Jungkook had never went against her wishes, he was always there at her every beck and call, he would never do anything to upset her, surely it had to be a misunderstanding. 

But Jungkook isn't backing down. He swallows when pushing himself to his feet, rounding the table separating them as he comes to a halt in front of her. "I said, I threw them out."

The crease between her brows deepens and she folds her arms across her chest. "Why would you do that? You know I need those for my headaches."

He can feel the muscles in his jaw clenching at the excuse. "It's getting out of hand, you and I both know it." 

Yelena actually looked taken aback by the sudden confrontation. It was unlike him to ever say or do something like that. But her initial shock is quickly replaced with something much more bitter. "I told you, I need them for my headaches," she continues to push the same narrative as before, jabbing an accusing finger to his chest, "You don't get to decide when I stop." 

If she'd been able to hide the tremor to her bottom lip, perhaps Jungkook would've let her storm out again. But he caught it, just like he did everything with Yelena. His fingers curled around her wrist and he tugged her to his chest in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm sorry," he'd whispered against the top of her head, "I just want you to be okay." 

She started crying then. Her tears were becoming all the more common but they still hurt him just as deep each and time. "I do too," she admitted against his shoulder, and for a second time, Jungkook had let himself believe that things were about to change for the better. 

Yelena stopped taking the pain medication but she never seemed to get better. There was always a grayish hue to her skin, the bags under her eyes didn't ease up and though she slept through the night for the most part, he knew that something was wrong. 

The children would jump into her lap — just as they always did — only for her to startle and scold them. Small, unnecessary things would bother her. The ticking of a clock, the crackle of their fireplace, even the sound of pages in a book being flipped. "Will you stop that!" she'd suddenly shout, and Jungkook would glance up from whatever he was doing with a frown. She always apologized on her next shaky exhale, but it didn't erase what had happened. 

He raided the bathroom cabinet, the bedside drawer, the closet — all in search of anything that could point to her strange behavior. Of course, he had his suspicions, it was impossible not to. He just didn't want to believe them, and without solid evidence they could not exist, until suddenly — they had. 

Jungkook knows that she probably hadn't expected him to still be in bed by the time she returned from her shower that Tuesday morning. But he had taken to working from home more than often as of late, to keep an eye on her, even though he'd never admit that out loud. 

So when she walked in, clad in only a towel, she hadn't thought to cover herself. "Morning," she'd chirped as she ran her fingers through her hair, pausing only when her husband's silence grew dreary. By the time she noticed where his gaze lingered, the damage had already been done. 

She tried to hide her arm, tucking it to her chest as she averted her gaze, "Baby I'm—" 

"Show me your arm." Jungkook shot out of bed without waiting for her to finish her sentence. His fingers close around her forearm as he pries it from her torso. Yelena protests, she yells for him to let go but he can't hear her, can't see her. All that exists are the puncture marks on her skin, the purple bruises that form around them, the evidence he'd been looking for without ever thinking he'd find. 

"What have you done?" His voice cracks on the last syllable, the brief anger slipping away just as quickly as it had come, replaced with dread, so much dread. 

Tears are streaming down her face but she says nothing as her arm goes lax in his hand. She cries silently for a minute and Jungkook doesn't take his eyes off the marks in the crease of her elbow, he doesn't touch them either — the thought makes him sick. 

Finally, she croaks out a quiet, "I had no other choice." 

"There's always a choice!" 

He doesn't mean to snap at her but he can't help himself. The fear is morphing into anger and Jungkook has no idea how to put a lid on it. "You can't just—" he barely registers the fact that he's crying too, the same salty tears sliding across his cheeks in messy streaks. 

Swallowing, he shakes his head, "Where are you getting this shit?" 

Yelena refuses to return his gaze and he knows that he will not get a response out of her. He glances down to where he's still gripping her arm, the way his fingers have sunk into her skin with such force that he wondered why she hadn't winced yet. He jerks his hand away, terrified of the emotions that were washing over him.

The words that wait on his tongue are not kind, so he shoves them back down his throat and heaves a breath. Then he turns away from her, focusing on the bed they'd been sleeping peacefully on just an hour prior. 

"Cover up," he says, "I don't want the children seeing that." 

Addiction was an infestation. What had started so small — so seemingly innocent — grew into a hungry monster. Yelena's addiction was tearing them all apart from the inside and out. It had festered itself to the walls, bleeding through the carpets and tainting their furniture with its poison. 

She looked like shit, perhaps even worse than she had the first few days after her parents death. It had been three weeks since she last went into work. Jungkook had been forced to maintain the employees salaries, trying to keep her business afloat as well as his own and the rest of his life. 

They talked less and less — and whenever they did it was brief. Yelena was in a foul mood almost every single day, and she took it out on those around her. 

He could no longer keep the children in the dark, least of all Rayne, who'd always been so perceptive for her age. She would peek around corners, listen in to conversations that should never have reached her ears. The worst part was that she didn't even have to try — Jungkook and her mother argued loud enough for the entire neighborhood to be shook on some days. 

"You're being selfish!" 

Yelena shot him a glare, "You have no idea what I'm going through!" Dinner was long forgotten about on the stove, the rice burnt to the pan, and the spatula used to stir it with, clutched in his wife's hand as she waves it aimlessly. 

"No. But I know what you're putting our children through, all your fucking shit is dragging them down with you!" He rarely cursed these days, but the conversations between him and the woman he loves were pulling out sides of him he thought to be only a distant memory. 

She pauses at that, spatula raised mid swing, like she'd actually meant to hit him. "I'm trying, okay? I'm—" shaking her head, she lowers her arm again. "You just keep pushing me. I need this shit to stay well. Can't you see what it fucking does to me when I don't have it?" 

Jungkook scoffs, "So that's it? Getting high is how you're going to deal with your family from now on?" He learned that Yelena had never actually processed the loss of her parents, never actually grieved them. Instead she'd turned to something that would take away the pain — not realizing it would steal everything else as well. 

"Why?!" she flings the spatula onto the counter, it slides across the marble top before falling to the floor with a clatter. Her eyes are livid with rage and confusion, "Why can't you just let me do this? Why do you have to take away the only thing that makes it better?" 

That stings, perhaps more than if she had actually struck him. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat. Right. The drugs were her salvation. Not her children. Not him. But the substance which she abused and tormented her body and mind with. Something inside of him snaps, and he surges forward as he grabs her shoulders with trembling hands. 

"Because I don't want to bury my own wife before she's even thirty!" He spits the words in her face, the horror of the very possible reality dawning on him in that exact moment. Yelena must come to the same realization for she's gone mute in front of him, barely fighting his tight grip on her. 

Then all of a sudden, there's a small creak in the distance — a floorboard being stepped on too heavy. Jungkook's head whips in the direction of the kitchen doorway just in time to see Rayne's shadow slipping away again. Her footsteps are quick and light when they climb the stairs, the click of her bedroom door echoes throughout the now silent house. He feels his heart drop. 

When Cassian asked if his mommy was dying — Jungkook hadn't known what to reply. It was right after his fourth birthday, which they had celebrated at home, with his own parents joining them. Yelena came downstairs when it was time to blow out the candles, though she never indulged in the cake Jungkook's mother had baked. And when they finished eating she returned back to their bedroom. 

For someone so young, it was hard to understand just what was happening. Part of him is relieved that his son has yet to know the full extent of what his mother was going through. The other scrambles to fill in the gaps for him. 

"Is she sick?" Cassian had asked when Jungkook tucked him into bed that night. 

He placed the covers all the way up to his chin, "Yes, she is."

The small boy frowned, tiny fingers fiddling with a lock of his hair — the same dark curls his mother had. "Go to hospital?" he then wonders, to which Jungkook shakes his head. 

"Your mom has a sickness that medicine can't cure." 

Cassian lies silently for a little while, the soft lamp of his bedside table basking him in yellow warmth. His eyes — big and round — finds his father's, "Can you?" 

Jungkook hesitates, his brows pinching together as he exhales through his nose. "I can try." 

He kissed his forehead and arranged the covers over him one last time, promising his son that he would do his best, even if it meant losing himself along the way. 

He'd tried to get Yelena into rehab, a place with people who understood her struggles and were going through the same thing. Only for a month, he told her, just to see if she could get help. But she wouldn't have it. And as an adult, she couldn't be admitted unless she chose so herself. He kept trying for another two weeks before abandoning the idea entirely. 

Summer of 86' was horrible, worse was September. Yelena was far too gone to even remember his birthday, Jungkook didn't feel like celebrating anyway. Though he did bring her a scarf for hers — hoping that the soft fabric would spark something inside of her. 

She barely glanced at it. 

For every day that passed Jungkook watched as his wife slowly deteriorated. He'd found a stash under the bed — full of the shit she'd inject herself with. He threw it away without batting an eye. When Yelena caught on she had walked out the door, and didn't return until the following evening — he never knew where she went and he never asked. He knows that he's better off in the dark. 

She was never happy, but she wasn't always sad. There was a small gray area where she'd actually initiate conversation like a normal person, where she'd seek out the children without Jungkook having to force her — on those days Jungkook was always filled with the embarrassment of hope. 

It never lasted and he realized how stupid he must be to cling on to something that had already been lost. 

He was watching her die. Each morning he would wake, not knowing if she was going to rise with him. At some point it became too much, and he began to sleep in the guest bedroom. She never commented on it, he figured she might not have cared at all. 

Sometimes he would stare into her eyes, the same beautiful brown eyes that he'd fallen in love with all those years ago by the water fountain — he doesn't recognize them anymore. And perhaps he's naive for clinging to the memory of what had once been, stupid to think that there might be a way for them to return to the way things were before — even though he knows they won't. 

Rayne and Cassian stopped asking for their mother eventually. They ate whatever food Jungkook cooked them, got ready for bed with his help and were tucked in and kissed goodnight by him as well. The room down the hall — their bedroom — remained silent, but everyone knew who lingered on the other side of the door. 

What had done him in in the end had not been her death — for Yelena was still alive — but the world she had built wasn't. September month was coming to an end, and just like he had for nearly a year now, Jungkook was rolling out the pay to those who still kept her clothing store up and running. 

Only, the checks were rejected again. Strange. There should be enough money within the business to keep it standing for another couple of years without his wife's guidance. Still, he had contacted the bank himself, just to make sure. "No sir," the man on the phone told him, "There are no finances left. We sent out a notice last month, has Mrs. Jeon not received it?" 

Jungkook didn't let him finish and he did not respond to the inquiry as he slammed the handset down hard enough to rattle the entire box. He leaned back in his seat, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes as he realized where that money had went. Then he did something he hadn't done in years. 

To his right, in the bottom drawer of the desk, was a pack he'd kept just in case. He never had any reason to reach for it, even when the sleepless nights and arguments with Yelena reached their peak. Today he finds that it's his only reprieve. So he picks up a cigarette and lights it. 

The smoke went down his throat like an old friend and Jungkook wondered why he hadn't caved sooner. He exhales, letting the cloud dissipate as he ponders his next move. There's this one thought that eats away at him. Call it paranoia but he can't seem to shake it. 

Shoving the cigarette between his lips, he makes another call, this one to the bank which held all of their funds. He remains calm when the lady on the other end of the line tells him that all accounts were intact — all but the one he'd set up for the children's future studies. He would add to it each month, making sure both Cassian and Rayne were set to enroll in whichever university they pleased when the time came. But that one had been emptied. Not taken from — but stripped bare of every last dime. 

He shared access to the fund with Yelena, and it didn't take a genius to figure out where she had placed the money that was promised to their children. 

Jungkook got off the phone, sat back in his seat and finished his cigarette. Then he had another one. He felt oddly at peace given what he'd just found out. In fact, he thinks this might be his biggest moment of clarity yet. 

Once he's finished his second smoke he files the clothing store for bankruptcy and walked out of the study. 

He finds Yelena in their bedroom, half passed out on top of the covers — just like usual. She doesn't look up when the door clicks shut behind him, not even when he comes to stand by the edge of the mattress, looming over her with eerie stillness. 

"You need to leave." 

Jungkook is surprised by how leveled he sounds when he says the words he never thought would leave his lips. She finally cracks a bloodshot eye open, brows furrowing together as she peers up at him. "What?" she huffs. 

But he's done. The children were at daycare and school, the house was empty and no one would hear his next statement, no one but her. "You need to leave. I don't want you here anymore." 

Yelena pushes herself up onto her elbows, "What are you talking about?" 

"The money." 

Her face pales, which shouldn't have been possible given how sick she already looked. "I know what you've done," he continues, "And if this is the path you've chosen for yourself then I can't stop you." He swallows, fingers curling into a loose fist by his side, "You've ruined my life. But I won't let you ruin our children's too." 

He prides himself on how calm he's able to remain, even as Yelena's expression flickers between at least ten different ones in the span of thirty seconds. After an entire minute she finally moves — right toward him. 

Jungkook barely has any time to react before her arms wrap around his neck, her open mouth finding his in a kiss that feels nothing but loving. "Baby," she sighs against his lips, "We can fix this." Her small pecks move to his jaw as she drags her tongue along his skin — it makes him sick. 

His hands clutch at her shirt as he hauls her off of him again. "What the fuck are you doing—?" he spits, the composure he'd built in his study vanishing in an instant as Yelena fights his grip in order to attach herself to him again. 

Tears drip down her cheeks, "Please, baby. I'll get better I promise. I love you, I love you so much." 

He tries to block the sound of her voice out, tries to not let those empty and hollow make belief words get to him. This wasn't his wife. The matted hair, the dull eyes and the dark circles beneath them. This wasn't his Yelena, he knows that now. 

"Leave." 

It takes everything in him to not bring her back in his arms, to pretend that everything was alright, just for today. But he keeps his chin high, even pointing toward the bedroom door as he fights the tremble in his hand. She follows his finger, the tears drying up instantly as reality settles in. 

"Fine," she snaps. Turning on her heel, she heads for the closet as she begin ripping clothes out — clothes she hasn't worn in months. She shoves them into a bag, grabbing along whatever necessities she found laying around. Bottles are scattered on top of the dresser, most of them are empty but she still rummages through the mess in search of something that holds what she wants. 

Jungkook watches it all with his heart shrinking in his chest. A small, naive and pathetic part of him had thought — hoped — that she would choose her children over this. That she would choose him, just like he had chosen her everyday for the past year. 

But Yelena is not looking back, her mind was made up. If she could not have both then she would settle for the poison. 

She walks through the door without telling him goodbye, her shoulder brushing past his with enough force to have him stumble on his feet. He peers down to the floor, clenching his jaw shut as he bites back the pleas waiting on his tongue. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Please stay." 

"You're right, we can fix this." 

The same lies he'd been letting her spoonfeed him for months now. He couldn't take it anymore. But listening to the heavy thuds of her descending the stairs angrily, the sound of shoes being yanked on with a stomp, or the front door as it slammed shut hard enough to loosen it off its hinges — it broke him. 

Jungkook stands in the middle of their bedroom in silence, gaze lingering on the mattress where she'd been laying not long ago. His knees hit the floor solemnly and he stares down at his empty palms. 

Then he cries. 

The house felt empty in the absence of Yelena, and Jungkook had a hard time figuring out if that was a good or a bad thing. He found himself listening for her more than often, each creak of a floorboard and every tap of the wind against the glass has him turning in its direction, only to be disappointed again. 

For the first week or so, the children stayed with his parents. Jungkook couldn't bear the thought of seeing anyone right now, least of all his own kids, who he would have to explain the situation to at some point. His mother said she didn't mind — she even had his old bedroom rearranged into a spare one for them. 

He hadn't heard from Yelena since she slammed the front door all those days ago. Those days turned into weeks, and as he filed the divorce papers two months later, he came to understand that he never would hear from her again. He did not have to fight her for custody, she didn't even turn up. 

During the time that followed, Jungkook moved on autopilot. Things he used to take joy in became just another chore on his list. He'd built his life around Yelena, his business, this house, their children — everything was branded in her name, one way or the other. So it was easier to just stop feeling all together. 

The more distance he managed to place between himself and the things that were destroying him, the more control he would get. Jungkook started following a strict schedule. If he numbered his days by the hour, then he would never have space to stop and think about the things that haunted him. 

He would get up at five, take a cold shower and have coffee. Crowd his brain with work inside his study. Then he would wake his children — get them ready for the day before dropping them off at school and daycare — then he drove himself to work until it was time to pick them up again. 

But even his children reminded him of what he'd lost within their mother. Jungkook hates himself for the way he looks at them, with such little warmth that he wonders if perhaps he'd made the wrong choice after all. 

Cassian was thankfully too young to understand. He would cry for his mother, Jungkook would call his own — and she would come over to comfort the young boy. If things were particularly rough both children would spend a couple of days at their grandparents, no one questioned why. 

Rayne was difficult. She lingered in his peripheral vision, watching him whenever she thought he wasn't looking. It annoyed him just as much as it pained him. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to see him like this, pathetically drowning in his own misery. He wants to apologize for the arguments she witnessed, wants to say something about Yelena to soother her — yet he does none of that. 

Because Jungkook was truly just a miserable piece of shit. 

So he doubles down on the strict schedule. Keeping both himself and the children busy so that he wouldn't have to address the things still left unsaid. He tries to keep up a front, especially around his eldest who always had her eyes on him — but he would slip up ever so often. 

Whenever he was lost in thought he would end up setting the table for four. And it wasn't until Rayne quietly pointed it out that he'd blink twice, sighing under his breath before grabbing the extra plate and returning it to the kitchen. Other times he forgot to cook and pack their lunch, Yelena usually did that. Rayne would be there to remind him again. 

After nearly eight months of struggling through the new routine, the house had settled into something akin to peace. It wasn't real, not even close — in fact it was more like play pretend. And though it was fragile, it was still better than things had ever been when their mother was still around. 

Jungkook went back to working his usual ten hours — returning to the office was a lot harder than he'd thought. No one had missed the ugly fall out between him and his wife. If his nearly year-long absence wasn't enough proof, then the missing ring on his finger surely got their gears turning. 

He did his best to ignore them for the most part. His employees knew better than to come to him with their concerns, lest they wanted to keep their job. Still, a few here and there came up to let him know how sorry they were. The rumors of his ex-wife's substance abuse were not new, but they'd resurfaced as Jungkook made his appearance after some time away. 

Things settled down a couple of days later, mostly because he kept glaring at whoever dared glance in his direction for longer than a heartbeat. Once the initial wave had passed, Jungkook actually found solace in spending time at the office. While the place was still tainted with the essence of Yelena, it was nowhere near as bad as the state of his home. 

In order to spend more time behind his desk, he began to ponder on a solution regarding his children. He was hardly a present figure in their life at the moment, so he thought that introducing someone else to watch over them while he buried himself beneath paperwork, wasn't such a bad idea. 

The first advertisement that expressed his need for a nanny went up that following afternoon. Jungkook wasn't picky. All he needed was someone who could follow the schedule his children had become accustomed to, preferably a decent cook but he didn't bother adding the detail. 

And no high school graduates. Yelena would've called him ridiculous, but Jungkook doesn't care. He remembers far too well the kind of person he'd been barely a decade ago, a nuisance to his parents and whoever crossed paths with him. It was the last kind of influence he'd want near his own children. 

He had very little luck in the beginning. Most of them were women in their mid twenties, though some had been even older and in need of another income — not that it ever mattered when they all went out the same way. No one managed to stick to the routines for longer than a day or so. Some of them even made comments on his children's "abnormal behavior" to which Jungkook fired them accordingly. 

Getting new candidates wasn't the issue — he offered enough by the hour to attract new applications every other day. No, the real issue was getting them to actually stay. 

So when the sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house on that October morning, Jungkook had went downstairs just as usual. The children didn't even bother peeking out of their rooms anymore, they were used to meeting new faces by this point. 

He opened the door just like he always would, careful not to let his prejudice show in front of the newest hire. You were unlike the others. Not as put-together, he noticed the worn out edges of your coat, the poor state of your shoes, it almost made him raise a brow, though he caught himself just in time. Strangely enough, you reminded him of someone he'd known long ago. 

Then you opened your mouth to speak and his heart stuttered in his chest. "Hello, I'm here for the—," Your voice… God, Jungkook hadn't heard a voice so bright in ages.

He inhaled, cutting you off mid sentence. "You're the nanny," he says, and you nod, seemingly unbothered by his lack of manners. It makes him frown. Perhaps you'd actually make it through your first week. 

If you, or anyone you know, is struggling with addiction don't hesitate to reach out for help. Emergency Numbers (UK, U.S, South Africa, New Zealand, Philippines, Ireland, Australia, Canada & India). More Emergency Numbers. No battle is meant to be fought alone, you matter <3

── [ ✉️ ] God, hello. This is going to be a long one, don't even know if anyone will be reading this but I must get my thoughts out nonetheless. This chapter was so important for me to write. Not only does it provide answers to a lot of the questions we've had throughout the story, but it is especially important for Jungkook's character. I'm sure you noticed that I focused more on some parts than others. I focused mainly on the things that altered Jungkook's character in a way that's relevant to the story (such as him getting rejected by the investors, slowly building his career, the tone shift in him as a person throughout the entire chapter). He is the centrepoint for this chapter and while Yelena is important, how he perceives things and how they make him feel was my main goal with this. If I managed to do this correctly, then you will understand how Jungkook came to be the person he is present time. This was all about getting close and vulnerable with him in a way we never have before, I really hope that shows. The chapter also touched on a lot of triggering topics, I've tried to portray them with as much respect as I can whilst still indulging for the sake of the story to feel immersive and gripping. Okay, I'll surely ramble if you ladies come to me in my inbox with thoughts/feelings. I hope that not too many tears were shed, I'll give you a hug and lend a tissue if they were. I love you all so so much, please stay safe and take care of yourselves <3