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His Name [3]

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 Words: 6.6k Genre: Angst, Multiple Personality!Au Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him. → Inspired by the Korean Drama - Kill Me Heal Me Warnings: Topics of mental health, mentions of death and medical disorders. Disclaimer: Although this piece of work required lots of in-depth research and was attempted to be as accurate as possible, at the end of the day, I am not a psychologist and this is fanfiction. Specific things may be altered or exaggerated for story-telling purposes. Please take all medical terminologies and procedures with a grain of salt.

The memories haven’t all but disappeared.

They’re covered, somewhere in the depths of his most vulnerable mind - for reasons you don’t know. It’s a puzzle with thousands of missing pieces but Jungkook is slowly being able to assemble some corners together; a mural gradually becoming tangible.

“I’ve been thinking…” His clammy hands rub together. “And I think I can remember….something.”

“Can you describe it to me?”

His lids flutter shut, a scrunch between his brows as he dives into the vague images. “My mother. It’s my fifth birthday. And I’m outside in the backyard. There are some balloons tied to the fence. I’m throwing one up into the air. It’s blue and really pretty against the sky, floating and drifting slowly. I remember just staring at it before my mother brings out the cake. She smiles at me and then someone...someone….calls my name.”

“Jungkook!”

“ I...I don’t kno- ugh.” He opens his eyes again, clutching his head within his hands as it throbs. “I don’t know. It was someone...someone important to me. They’re important...really important..”

“Jungkook.” You call him in a firm voice and he sits back up, looking into your orbs. You smile warmly at him. “It’s okay. That’s a lot of improvement! You’re doing a very good job. This takes a lot of time but you’re already starting to remember things.” He nods, lips upturning at your praise. “Can you tell me more about your mom? Do you remember anything specific about her?”

“She used to...she used to garden and paint…?” His eyes shine brighter, voice holding more conviction as he begins to remember again. “My mother really loved to paint.”

You can see the spark of interest light in his eyes, a smile growing at his lips. “Do you paint Jungkook?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t paint...anymore. I used to draw a lot. I do still love art though.”

“Why didn’t you continue with it?”

His eyes flicker to the floor before meeting yours, anguish laced in his features. “My father disapproved of it.”

He shrugs and you sense his discomfort, a desire to move onto a different topic.

You ask a few questions on what it was like to live with his grandparents, the time he spent at the boarding school and what it was like when he came back. From his answers, it seems like he loved his grandparents dearly. Despite being left there by his father, you observe how detached Jungkook is when he speaks about him; their father-son relationship doesn’t appear to be stable.

Jungkook tells you about the three years spent at the boarding school. At the beginning, he was outcasted by the other students - largely due to his withdrawn nature. But, towards the end of his first year, he became well acquainted with a few other students and became a teacher favourite. Unfortunately, all his friends were merely skin deep and he never got too close to them.

These were the years that he began to have missing memories, appearing in places that he never remembered going to, conversations he apparently had with others but didn’t. Jungkook can’t pinpoint the exact time but these were the years that he developed his disorder.

“What’s it like to work at your father’s company?”

“It’s fine.” He responds. “It’s work.”

“Do you interact with your father a lot?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No. He gives me things to do sometimes - projects, meetings, clients. I might see him around but other than that, no. We don’t talk to each other.”

He had told you that the years of coming back home and going through university were all a blur. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything important. He felt like an outsider in his own home. His step-mother, though never went out of her way to harm him, never went out of her way to make him feel welcome either. The friends he made while studying were calculated moves told by his father, relationships he could build to solidify the company’s position. They were never genuine. He was never genuine.

His disorder became worse and worse as time went on. The blackouts became more frequent, lasting a longer time. People began to notice and with so many missed classes, he had to put in hard effort to graduate on time. He couldn’t even keep his own head on his shoulders, nevermind creating and sustaining friendships or relationships.

“How often do you feel high strung when you’re working?”

Jungkook frowns and then shrugs. “Often…?”

You nod, taking note that if the opportunity arises, you should observe his behaviour in the workplace.

Evaluation Report #2 Patient: Jeon Jungkook Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder -Patient generally switches when experiencing panic, anxiety and/or a loss of control. -As observed, the patient's most effective method to return to a normal state is through close proximity, physical touch and/or affection. -Building a strong relationship between clinician and patient is essential but boundaries must be set. Avoid physical contact if possible. Patient must learn how to regain control on his own in case no one is present during his switches. -Improving his control over his emotions is very crucial. -Based on observations, the patient has a tendency to cut off the outside world and stay indoors. It is recommended to increase time spent outside for the patient. -Uncovering the patient’s memories will most likely lead to the cause and root of his disorder. Further investigations are required.*

“Thank you so much for doing this.” You wipe some of your sweat, standing up straight.

“It’s…” Mr. Jinkey huffs out as he drags the bag of soil. “...no problem.” He dusts his hands together, steadying his breath. “You can call me anytime Miss Y/N. But can I ask you what this is all for?”

You smile, looking at the five bags of soil, the fertilizer and the new watering cans. “Just thought it would be nice to do some gardening.”

//

When you drag Jungkook outside, his expression tells you it’s anything but nice.

He’s frowning, mouth parted and eyes filled with disgust. He slows down in his steps, apprehension taking hold of his limbs. It’s as if you’re going to give him a math equation to solve.

“What...is this?”

You’re ingenious. Jungkook needed to develop more time to go outside and if he planted vegetables, it could help improve his diet. Gardening was also one of his mother’s hobbies. It might or might not uncover more of his childhood memories. It was worth a shot and you were killing three birds with one stone.

“Oh, c’mon. Lighten up, Kook.” You nudge him and he looks with wide eyes into the empty planter box. “Don’t you want to garden?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” You turn on your heel, grabbing the bag of soil. “You have no choice. Now go move it wherever you want it to be.”

From the corner of your eye, you catch his little pout and a smile wiggles up your lips.

Jungkook picks up the wooden, garden box and puts it underneath the window next to his stone patio. When he spots that you’re struggling with pulling the bag, he shifts your hands off. “Here.” He mutters before hoisting it up into his arms. “I don’t get why we have to do this…”

“Because it’s fun…and if we do it successfully, they’ll be tomatoes, peppers...carrots...” You follow him. “It can be our project.”

“Ours?” He questions and when you motion towards the rectangle, he dumps the contents out.

“Jin, one of your alters, usually takes care of the garden.”

“Oh….” Jungkook takes a look around as if never before noticing how well kept it is.

“But this will be our project. No one but me and you, Jungkook, will be able to touch this planter box. No strangers, no one familiar and not even your alters. Just me and you.”

He frowns, thinking for a second as he tilts his head in skepticism. Jungkook looks to the ground as he walks back to take another bag of soil. As he returns, you notice a suppressed smile on his face; perhaps trying to conceal a huge grin.

You beam at him and he clears his throat. “Well...it’s not a horrible idea. I guess it sounds good.”

“Good.”

The both of you are kneeling in the grass, having poured in all the dirt and fertilizer to the top of the box. With a trowel in your hand, you’re digging tiny holes for him to drop the seeds in.

“You know…” He looks up past his sweaty bangs. “...I never realized how nice this garden is. Who did you say takes care of it?”

“Jin. Seokjin? He’s twenty years old. Cooks. Cleans. Tells bad puns.”

“Twenty years old?!” Jungkook’s mouth drops.

You let a giggle slip past your lips. “Yeah. Why?”

“I think he’s the one who keeps buying Mario plushies online. I thought he was ten or something.” He mumbles and you laugh again. “Sometimes I see sticky notes laying around the house and there's always a list of chores on them...or they’re telling me how messy the house is. I think they’re from him.”

“Sounds like it.” You catch Jungkook shaking his head. His smile disappears for a second before it grows even bigger. “What’s wrong?”

“No. I just heard in the back of my mind, a really loud ‘YAH!’.” He scrunches up his nose, dumping out the rest of the contents out of the seed packet into the last hole before you cover it up with the topsoil.

He’s beside you as you fill up the watering cans with the hose. “How do you feel about going outdoors, Jungkook?”

He hums. “It’s fine I guess.”

“Do you feel better?”

“I guess I do.” Jungkook looks around at the luscious green grass, plush like a carpet underneath his feet. His eyes flicker to the flower bushes before up at the cerulean canvas. “I should go outside more.”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea.”

He mutters under his breath as he leans over to turn off the nozzle- “but I don’t have anyone to go-”

“I’ll go.” You pipe up and he looks back at you with wide eyes.

“Wha-”

“You’ll always have me.” You reassure him, standing up and handing him one of the two watering cans. “You’re not alone, Jungkook. You should remember that - you’re really not alone.”

Jungkook follows behind you with his lips upturned. When you turn around to steal a glance, he immediately looks away with a blank expression and when you face forward again, his smile returns.

“Did you ever do anything similar with your mother?”

He scours his brain and his memories. “I think so….I had a smaller watering can. It was yellow..with a huge star on it. But I remember getting yelled at for overwatering the plants...by someone...”

“Do you remember who it was?”

There’s a delay in his answer, a huff of defeat that barely comes out as a weak whisper- “no.”

“It’s okay. You’ll remember eventually.” You reassure him and he nods. The atmosphere becomes heavy with his frown and after watering the entire planter box, there’s still some water left in your can.

You slosh it around until your eyes twinkle with mischief and you look up at the concentrated boy. The moment you swing the handle back and a stream of water launches into the air, he smoothly dodges by stepping to the side.

“What. are. you. doing?!” He grins at your startled expression.

“How did you avoid that?”

“Try me.” His hand motions for you to come, pupils flashing with competitiveness.

“Oh it’s on.” You step forward, trying to splash him again but he giggles, running out the way and making the water soak into the grass. “You’re going to have to try harder than that!”

The both of you end up chasing each other around the backyard, trying to drench the other. Somehow, he gets the upper hand and manages to dump his entire can over your head. Your shirt becomes completely soaked and he falls to the ground in breathless giggles, clutching onto his stomach.

Not accepting defeat, you run off to the hose and you blast him with the hardest setting. You shoot mercilessly, opening fire until his clothes become so soaked that he might as well be in a laundry machine; his shirt becoming thin material and barely hanging off his shoulders and arms. Yet, as he screams and shrieks for you to stop in the midst of his laughter, ‘god Y/N! Stop!’, you pretend not to hear.

“Hmm?! What was that?!” You shout, moving the hose to spray his whole body length.

Even though the water is on the roughest setting, he runs up to you, slapping the hose out of your hands. A yelp leaves your lips as he takes the fabric of his shirt and slaps you with it like it’s a wet towel. Jungkook threatens to hug you, make you as drenched as he is but you duck away before he gets the chance.

Eventually, the two of you pass out in the plush grass, letting the beaming sun dry you off. Your chest is still heaving and when you take a peek beside you. He’s wearing the brightest of smiles.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed so hard.

//

It happens the next day, one early morning.

You’re sipping on some hot coffee, filling out and finishing some documents. It’s then that a knock on the door shatters your concentration. Jungkook pops his head through the gap and nervously asks, while scratching the back of his neck, if you want to join him at his office.

It’s something you had mentioned that you wanted to do before. You’re aware that he often switches to his alters with the high stress environment there; you needed to observe him in those circumstances. Thus, you happily shut off your laptop and got ready.

“I’ve already told my secretary that you’re just an assistant.” Jungkook mutters to you, his face void of emotion and his voice more serious than you’ve ever heard. “Do you need anything or are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

You work in the corner of his office, looking up once in a while from your laptop to study him. It’s quiet for the most part except for the tapping of keyboards, flipping through stacks of paper and the breaks to sip on coffee. You muse how awfully lonely it is if he’s cooped up in his office all day for hours on end.

When he goes to a meeting, you sit in the back of the conference room, listening and watching. He easily gives the presentation, stuttering only a few times in front of the room and answering some questions. But at some point, you notice a difference. He becomes more confident and eloquent, responding with extensive knowledge and in pensive mannerisms.

“Jungkook?” You approach him after the meeting is finished and everyone is filtering out the room.

He looks up at you carefully but doesn’t reply, making you follow behind him as he walks off to his office. Once you close the door and he places the stack of sheets onto his desk, he clears his throat. “Unfortunately, I am not Jungkook.” He smiles, slight dimples creasing on each side of his cheek.

You shake his hand and he firmly nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Y/N. My name is Kim Namjoon.”

“It’s a..pleasure to meet you too.”

“I know you might have some questions for me but I’m swamped with work at the moment. I’ll make sure to devote time to you later if that’s alright with you.” He takes a seat and you slowly nod, caught off guard with how polite he is.

“Y-yes. That’s fine.”

“Great.” He clasps his hands together, looking at his monitor. As you make your way back to the coffee table in the corner, he speaks up. “Oh! I don’t know if Jungkook has mentioned this to you - I believe it might’ve slipped his mind - but there’s a business dinner later this evening. It’ll be with Jungkook’s father, stepmother and a few shareholders. I’m sorry that it might seem abrupt.”

“O-oh. No it’s perfectly fine. I’m okay with that.” You immediately look down to your attire. You’re in a plain white blouse and a black pencil skirt with heels - it’s the standard office outfit but it might be underdressed for a business dinner.

“Don’t worry, Y/N.” He reaffirms in a strong voice. “You look perfectly fine.”

He’s looking down and shuffling through the files, preoccupied but also seemingly aware of your worries. “Thank you, Namjoon.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.” He murmurs out but a second later, he looks back at you. “Oh and one more thing. You should call me Jungkook around this office. We don’t want to let other people overhear and become confused. After all….” He downcasts his orbs, shoulders slumping for a mere heartbeat and a slight wash of sadness appears on his face. “I…”

He’s supposed to be Jungkook.

Despite taking care of almost all the work, Namjoon isn’t the one who can take the credit for it.

“I understand.” You interject before he can finish. He nods gratefully before returning.

//

Namjoon is prim and proper. He holds a regal aura, intimidating in a way that you wonder if he came from noble blood. Each time he speaks, you notice how he thinks carefully and in every action, he considers the consequences. Regardless of being eloquent in the way he presents himself, he’s rather clumsy. At some point, he knocks his pen holders down and you help him collect them from the floor. He spills coffee all over his desk. He bumps into the copier machine while walking out the office. He trips over his shoes before getting to the car.

And with each clumsy mistake, he always does a quick look around to see if anyone’s seen. When you bite down on your lip, trying to hold in a laugh, he sends a sheepish smile before clearing his throat and pretending it never happened.

“Here.” He opens your palm up, placing the car keys in your hand. “You drive.”

“Me?”

“I don’t know how to drive.” He admits with embarrassment. “It’s safer for humanity that way.”

You don’t need much more of an explanation after observing him the entire day.

You nod, letting him know that it’s nothing to be shameful about and he looks at you appreciatively before getting into the passenger seat. The two of you don’t chat with each other, Namjoon preoccupied on his phone and answering some business phone calls. When you arrive at the restaurant with his directions, he introduces you to the older men, keeping to your title as assistant.

Jungkook’s father arrives shortly after, scrutinizing the both of you with stone cold eyes. Jungkook’s stepmother is hugging onto his arm, nodding her head to you in acknowledgement and you suppose she knows the true nature of your relationship with the boy.

“-and so, I believe that the next project will gravely raise the position of our company in the market.”

Namjoon is sly. No one in their right mind wants to discuss work, business dinner or not. At the beginning, he inquired about the family and personal life of each shareholder; sharing interests in their newfound hobbies. Somehow and someway, before you’ve even realized it, he’s eased himself into pitching the next deal. He’s got you charmed with his words.

The old men laugh with their bellies full. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. You’ve got me in.”

Another nods. “I’m caught too.”

“Mr. Jeon, you have quite the son.”

The waiter swoops by, taking away your finished dish and you motion to them thankfully.

Mr. Jeon scoffs lightly, his wife swirling her wine in her glass by his side. “He’s not much...really. There’s more than meets the eye.”

“He seems like a very intelligent and bright boy.”

Jungkook’s father scrutinizes from the corner of his eye. He chuckles cruelly as he shakes his head. “He’s a good for nothing son. He’s always been and always will be a disappointment to me. I don’t think he’ll ever grow up. If he listened to me, if he trusted me, if he wasn’t so naive…maybe things wouldn’t had to happen the way they di-”

Namjoon’s hand suddenly slams onto the table, ricocheting off the walls. When you turn to him completely startled, you immediately recognize that it’s no longer him and he’s not Jungkook either.

“Are you done?” The voice drops a pitch lower, a growl in the back of his throat. His eyes are bitter cold.

It’s the nameless man.

The shareholders look on in surprise, Jungkook’s stepmother stops her glass mid-way from taking a sip but Jungkook’s father looks absolutely unfazed.

You notice the man’s jaw is clamped down, teeth grinding against each other and his fist is clenched in his lap. He glares at the older man brutally, ready to launch over the table and wrap his hands around the older’s neck. A pure form of hatred twists his features, made from a million resentments and miseries. “Isn’t that enou-”

You reach over discreetly under the table, placing your hand on top of his. From your warm touch, he immediately cranes his head to you. Your eyes are soft, lips turned meekly to comfort him. He eases. His shoulders relax, his jaw loosens and he returns your gaze. It’s a gaze of desperation, begging….asking you if you can try to understand him. His eyes speak more than you’re able to grasp. But before you can figure out why his expression is tangled with agony and grief, his eyes glisten over.

Jungkook’s eyes blink twice, three times but it’s still not Jungkook that returns.

“I’m so sorry for that.” Namjoon clears his throat. He flashes a perfect smile, settling everyone around the table and pacifying the tense atmosphere. “I always like to say that my father keeps me humble. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“We all need someone like that in our lives.” A suited man agrees, raising his glass for a sip.

“Oh please, Henry. You’re the last humble man on this entire planet.” Another banters with him and everyone laughs.

Despite the conversations flowing smoothly after that and there are no more swaps between the alters, there’s something in the way that Namjoon taps his foot that tells you he’s not calm in the least bit.

//

The sky is swirled with blue steel ink, half the moon hovering high and the stars unseen from the skyscraper lights and street lamps. It’s unfortunate that the twinkling far away glows can’t be observed in the city. But at the very least, it’s reached a point of night where there are few on the streets and few disturbances aside from an occasional car whizzing past. The air is crisp but warm, enough that you don’t have to regret merely wearing a white blouse and black skirt.

“Miss Y/N.” He stops you from walking off the curb of the pavement to the front seat of the car. “If it is alright with you, could we possibly take a short walk to the library? There’s a few books that I’m interested in and it hasn’t gotten too late yet. They’re a street down and still open.”

“Yes. It’s fine.” You nod. “And you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N. Y/N’s fine.”

The two of you walk side-by-side in serene quiet, a comfortable silence that can only be achieved with years of familiarity yet somehow resonates between the both of you. From his embarrassing antics earlier, Namjoon makes an effort to not trip, staring down at his feet and the pavement. But then he nearly drives himself into a telephone pole and a brick wall. Each time you shout or yank him back, he sheepishly thanks you.

“Here it is.” He beams, looking happier ever since the work day and business has been finished. He holds the door open for you and when you enter, Namjoon looks around the bookshelves like a child in a toy store.

“Do you like reading?”

“I do.” He sighs, closing up a book and reaching for another. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much of an opportunity to do so, with work and the others...you know.”

You follow him in each aisle. “There’s just so many interesting things. Fiction or nonfiction, there are countless stories to be told, ideas to be conveyed, knowledge that needs to be learnt...I think it’s amazing.”

“Me too.” He gleams at your response, dimples creasing his cheeks.

By the time the both of you are finished, he picks up one book and the both of you decide to take a short stroll at the adjacent park. There’s not many nearby, some old couples hand-in-hand and young ones laughing together, individuals that want to escape from the silence of their home or the bustling nightlife.

The bridge is luminous with fairy lights, reflecting off the still waters of the river. From where you’re walking, you can catch the skyline from the other side. The noise seems to drown, being so far away.

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm?” You turn to him in confusion and he sighs.

“You calmed him down. He usually would’ve hurt someone....severely. How did you do it?”

You immediately recognize who he’s talking about - the nameless man.

“You know who he is?” You stop in your tracks, eyes open wide. “What’s his name?”

Out of a million and one questions, that’s the one that spills your mouth first. But Namjoon simply shakes his head. “He wouldn’t appreciate me telling you. If you really want to know, Y/N, you should ask him yourself.”

“That’s-...can’t you just tell me?”

He smiles at your discreet pout. “No. And don’t you have a few questions to ask me? Now’s a good chance. I don’t know when I’ll be switched with another and I don’t know the next time I’ll see you.”

“Okay.” You don’t miss his expression of melancholy as the both of you settle down at the wooden bench. “How old ar-”

“My name is Kim Namjoon. I am eighteen years old and I am the personality that was created from Jungkook’s time in boarding school. I am the alter that appears when he has to conduct business.” He cuts to the chase with a sad smile.

“Wait. You’re only eighteen?”

“Yes.”

“You’re extremely mature. I thought you would be at least twenty five or thirty.”

He smiles, looking down at his clasped hands. “Knowledge doesn’t necessarily correlate to age. I have a lot to work on and I still make dumb mistakes from time to time. But I try my best.”

“Namjoon, what did you mean when you said you said that you were created from Jungkook’s time in boarding school?” You inquire, staring at his profile. He inhales a breath, sitting up straight and leaning into the bench.

“It was a...strict school to say the least.” He steals a glance from you, a gentle uplift of his lips. “It was a school for troubled rich kids and they really whip you into shape. Jungkook had a hard time, so, I came along.”

“If he messed up back then, he would’ve been sent home - that was something he was extremely afraid of.”

You frown. “Jungkook was afraid of returning home? Why?”

“Well...you probably already noticed but his relationship with his father isn’t the greatest.” He eases you with another tiny smile. “I can’t really say anymore than that. It’s not my place.”

You nod, grasping a clear understanding of what he’s willing and not willing to talk about. “Don’t you consider yourself an entirely separate person from Jungkook? Why did you say you were only a personality of his?”

“Because that’s what I am to you.” He exhales wistfully, flickering his orbs up to the moon. “You consider me, us, merely alters of Jungkook’s personality. And you’re not wrong. It doesn’t make scientific sense otherwise; for a bunch of people to be inside of him. It’s his disorder that you’re trying to cure, why would I expect you to consider anything else? It doesn’t matter what I feel. Even if I felt like I was my own person. Even if I feel like the person ‘Namjoon’ and not ‘Jungkook’. None of that matters; to you or to this world.”

Your mouth fills with cotton, unable to answer. You have nothing to refute with. It’s not like you would anyways - you don’t want to lie.

“I’m not just trying to help Jungkook. I want to help all of you.”

“I know.” His irises crinkle sincerely, a bare whisper that leaves his lips. “I know. That’s why all of us have accepted you so easily. Not only for ourselves but we care for Jungkook. We want to see him happy.”

You gaze at the man, the slope of his nose and roundness of his cheeks; it is Jungkook’s exterior but for a flicker of a moment, you can almost see someone else, someone completely different.

“With that being said..” He begins again, staring out at the city skyline and the sparkling lights. “Would it really benefit Jungkook or anyone if he remembered?”

“What do you mean?”

“The memories that you’re trying to bring back.” He sighs. “There’s a reason he forgot. There’s a reason why they’re repressed in his mind. He was hurt, Y/N.”

“By what? What was he hurt by, Namjoon?” You lean forward, probing deep with your words but he simply shakes his head. “Why was he hurt? Do you know?”

“I can’t tell you.” He tears his gaze away from yours. “It’s not my place. Would it even do any good to remember again?”

“He has to.” You press on. “It’s the only way we can fight against his…-”

You stop short, biting your lips back and he chuckles quietly. “The only way to fight against this disorder.” Namjoon speaks slowly, emphasizing each word as if it’s a knife digging deeper into his skin. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“No. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Despite Namjoon smiling, you can see the disappointment wash over.

In his mind, he thought maybe you’d be able to understand. He, the others, all of this wasn’t merely a disorder - at least in their minds. They felt real. They experienced real emotions; anger, hatred, sadness, happiness, love. But somehow they shared one body, one skin. And even to the last moment, you still thought of him purely as a personality, as an alter.

Not separate individuals.

“Namjoon. I’m sorr-”

“It’s okay. More than anyone…” He stands up with his book, lifting out his hand and when you grab onto it, he hoists you up with a smile. Two dimples, each dot the side of his cheeks but it’s all too twisted with heartache. “...I understand.”

It’s a Sunday afternoon. The office is abandoned, laptop shut and the pages of the open binder fall to the wooden floorboards from the draft of the window. Dusk light is still hours away, sunshine yellow and piercing through the enormous glass windows.

You’ve set your work aside, pulling out your mother’s old recipe book and digging around for your apron. It was still a long time before dinner but you knew you would have to get started early - always getting delayed from the messes you create when you step into the kitchen. You can’t remember the last time you cooked or made an entire homemade meal but strangely, flashbacks of over boiled pasta and ash burnt meat come to mind.

“Cabbage first.”

Oddly enough, things go pretty smoothly - aside from the fact that you nearly sliced open your hand with the knife. The water is boiling, vegetables are left steaming, the meat on the pan is sizzling and you’re starting to set the table. Cooking takes your utmost concentration and focus, multitasking and rushing from place to place. You’re not sure why you’re trying so hard, it’s not like Jungkook is a professional chef that you’re attempting to impress; nonetheless, you’re meticulous with every single dish.

“What are you doing?”

A voice interrupts and you swivel around with a grin. “Jungkook! You came right in time. Take a seat.”

His frown softens but he’s still dumbfounded, confused as he slowly drags the chair from under the table out. He plops down, eyes on the numerous piping dishes in front of him.

“Wha-”

“Aren’t you hungry?” You set down his bowl of rice, pulling out your own chair to sit down in. “Time to dig in.”

Jungkook watches as you scoop a spoonful into your mouth, scrunching up your nose when you bite into the hot egg roll. “What are you looking at me for?” You scold him, motioning your utensil to his chest. “Are you not going to eat?”

He complies, downcasting his head and pouting his lips. He reminds you of a kindergartener, a lost boy with too many doubts in his head. You can’t help but let a smile slip.

“Did you do this for me?” He takes a tiny bite, glancing up at you past his lashes.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” You grin when he sighs at your vague answer. You tease him, “Is it too salty for your tastes?”

“It’s fine.” He retorts back. “Good. Better.”

You watch him fondly. “Jungkook, when was the last time you had a meal with someone?”

He doesn’t respond for a long while, looking downwards as he takes another bite-

“Decades.”

The both of you sit in silence. Jungkook ingests it quickly, biting and chewing with full cheeks. He might even choke with the pace that he’s eating at. Yet, he keeps his eyes facing downwards, soundless and expression blank. But you notice.

From the glances that you steal, you catch the shimmering of his orbs. His nose grows red, cheeks flushed and every sniffle that he takes tells you he’s trying hard to restrain his emotions. Each time it becomes difficult to swallow with the lump in his throat, he takes spoonfuls of the soup. And when a tear finally falls onto the white table, he quickly wipes it away before you see, without knowing - you’ve already seen.

“How is it?” You keep your lips in a straight line, blinking at him kindly. “Delicious?”

He lets out a croaked “yeah”.

“What’s your favourite food, Jungkook? I’ll make it next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time.” You reassure with a firm voice. There will be a next time. There will be countless times.

“Lamb skewers.” He says with a small upturn of his mouth. “It’s lamb skewers.”

You hum. “Doesn’t sound too hard.”

“Y/N.” He calls your name quietly and you meet his dark pupils. “Thank you.”

It was only one meal that you set aside time to make. But with him sitting across from you, his lips trembling with emotion - you already know that the small action means so much to him. His whisper whirls around the night, barely a murmur past your ears. It’s enlaced with genuine sincerity, making your chest swell from within.

It’s not suppose to be this intimate. Though somehow it is.

“Thank you.”

//

Jungkook insisted on cleaning up for you. He was strongly adamant about it, gathering up everything silently and making his way to the sink. You sighed, lingering around for a moment until you suddenly remembered that you had to finish a few things that you had set aside earlier. He told you to go do whatever you needed to do and you couldn’t argue.

Standing alone in the kitchen, it occurred to Jungkook that he needed, no, he wanted to do something more for you. To him, a simple ‘thank you’ wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to express how much it actually meant. He wanted to do something, anything; ask if you wanted or needed things, maybe if you wanted to go somewhere with him...maybe if you wanted to catch a movie...go have dessert.

Each step that Jungkook takes up the stairs is heavy and cautious. He doesn’t know why he feels so anxious or nervous in his own home. It’s you. You would never intentionally hurt him - that’s what he believes - and the worst that could happen was a simple rejection, a ‘no’. It wasn’t the end of the world. He could handle it. All he needed was to ask one question: if you wanted to go with him. It isn’t difficult. One question.

Jungkook dawdles outside your door, twisting the brass knob in his hand but he stops short. The moment it cracks open and a beam of light pierces into the dark hallway, a soft piano melody streams from your laptop and into his ears. He staggers.

His heart accelerates.

His breath freezes.

“Jungkook!”

“What are you doing?”

“Come sit down!”

“The food’s getting cold.”

A film plays beneath his eyelids, snapshots of vague images. Colour does not exist, black and white screens blurred to a point where he can’t make out the faces. The edges of the scene are curled together, sepia and burnt. Fuzzy. Clouded. There’s a table. Dark silhouettes. His mother. His father.

“My favourite’s lamb skewers. Here. Try some.”

A strange boy with ebony locks next to him.

Jungkook screams. An invisible hand wraps around his throat, choking him as he desperate gasps for breath. He can’t breathe and his eyes flash, morphing into tunnel vision. Suddenly you’re in front of him, the door crashing against the wall. Your lips move but he can’t hear; his heartbeat pounds loud within his eardrums, sirens blaring in his head. His chest constricts, a wave of panic drowning him like a tsunami. He is shaking and numb, leaning against the doorway as the world swirls into a mosaic of colours.

“Jungkook.”

Your voice is miles away, a shout into the oblivion.

“Jungkook!”

But he picks up on the distant echo.

“Jungkook.”

“You’re not going to die. You’re not alone.”

“I’m here.”

Warm arms wrap around his waist, his back patted gently like a lover’s embrace. He is tugged back into reality, reminded that you’re beside him - that he’s not alone. His heaving chest becomes calm underneath your touch, deep inhales that make the palpitation of his heart return to normal thump, thump, thumps. Jungkook’s sight returns and he desperately searches for your eyes. When he finds them, they are tender and soft, comforting and more than a million spoken words.

After you ask him if he’s okay, to which he responds with a weak nod, you bring him into his bedroom. He’s placed on his mattress, covers tucked up to his chin. He wants nothing more than for you to crawl beside him but he can’t ask; not when you’ve already murmured a few words that shot past his ear and the door is closed shut.

As Jungkook stares at his ceiling, being consumed by the darkness of the night, he’s reminded of one thing.

In what world could he have ever asked you?

It was one simple question: “do you want to go out?”. He would’ve blushed, stuttered, stumbled. “I mean...for dessert or a movie.”. Perhaps you would’ve said ‘yes’, maybe ‘no’. But now he can never know your answer.

He couldn’t even walk into your room.

He couldn’t even step into the light.

He’s frustrated and reminded that he’s utterly b r o k e n.

That night Jungkook dreams of a boy’s face that he cannot see.

#muhahahahha

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