vivrant thing (jwy) | three.
—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST
—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual.
—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader
—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, smut
—WORD COUNT: 6.6k
—CHAPTER CONTENT / WARNINGS: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, dinner w/ yeosang!, feelings are laid out oof, alcohol consumption & slight intoxication, a bit more of jiwoo vs. wooyoung, use of pet names (princess, love, baby girl, baby), lots and lots of kissing, making out, mentions of marking, some dry humping, unprotected sex, slow sweet sex??, wooyoung pulls out 🫢
So, you agree to the dinner with Yeosang but you don't expect how terrible it ends up playing out.
At first, it starts off well.
It felt like dinner wouldn't be so bad, and you enjoyed seeing Yeosang being his usual self from the car ride up to the restaurant. When he pulls into a spot in the parking lot and helps you out of the car, there is a bit of a difference in Yeosang's attitude. He slides his hand into yours as he leads the way into the restaurant and as much as you adore your bestfriend, it feels incredibly unnatural.
It surely doesn't feel like Wooyoung's, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.
He continues to loosely hold your hand until the host brings you to a table near the back end of the restaurant. You didn't think tonight's dinner would be so fancy, but you were in your business casual attire straight out of work; it ended up working out well in the end. You scoot into the booth, with Yeosang on the other side. He immediately orders a bottle of white wine, which isn't really to your liking as you've learned, but you'll make do with what you have— especially to get through this dinner.
You order appetizers along with your main courses, indulging in good conversation with Yeosang as he tells you work updates and how he's being dragged to this really important meeting over the weekend with the board of directors by his team lead.
It's all good. It's all fun and casual, until it isn't.
Meanwhile, Jiwoo stops by her brother's apartment to drop off some sushi from his favorite Japanese restaurant. It's her way of saying 'thank you' without actually having to say it out loud.
"What now?" Wooyoung swings his door open to see his sister standing there with a bag of food.
"Hi to you, too." She drops it on his kitchen counter. "Bought you food from Sushi Kashiwa."
"Aw, just say it." He pretends to pout while she gives him a disgusted look and unties the bag.
"No. Besides, I bought myself some food and am gonna enjoy it right here." She lays out the containers and grabs her own. "My friends decided to leave me out of a very important dinner tonight."
"What are you talking about?" He pops open the lid to his sushi container and wastes no time digging in.
"Y/N went to dinner with Yeosang. I guess to talk about stuff going on between them, I don't know." Wooyoung pauses mid-chew, the statement hitting him right in his gut. He's not sure why he's sad— maybe he's right after all. Maybe this just ended up being a temporary one night thing that would eventually wash away.
Sucks it doesn't necessarily feel that way for Wooyoung.
He can't assume, though. Hopefully, you're talking to Yeosang and giving him the honest 'i think we should just stay friends' talk instead of the 'let's just see where this goes' talk. He'd appreciate the universe if it could give him this one thing; he'll stop running his parents' last nerve and will never look at a booty ever again.
Maybe.
"Oh." Is all Wooyoung says before stuffing another piece into his mouth. "Why would you even be there, Jiwoo? That doesn't concern you."
"Anything with my friends concerns me."
"Let them talk it out without your loud, nosey ass interrupting." She rolls her eyes, scrolling through her phone as she also continues to eat.
"I haven't gotten any new texts from her. I wonder if it's going well. Maybe they're gonna explore this after all."
"Who says?" Wooyoung responds a little too quickly, a little too sharply, for his liking. His sister doesn't seem to catch on, though. That's great.
"I dunno, beats me. I'm just taking all angles into consideration."
"Stop projecting. She seemed to be pretty set on her decision at the party."
"You never know." She says in a sing-song tone that irks Wooyoung a little more than usual this evening. "You're right, though. She is set on her decision. I just hope he takes it well." She sets her phone aside. "Anyway. How'd you like the party?"
"Gotta admit, it was fun."
"You really looked like Y/N's date. I had a few people ask me if you two were dating."
"Uh, I mean I was her date? And why would they ask when I already told them yes?" He jokes, just to push his sister's buttons.
"No way." Jiwoo continues to eat away at her food, texting Hongjoong in the midst of it. "Y/N is too good for you."
"No one is too good for anyone. Don't speak on shit you don't know."
"I know her!"
"And I know her, too!"
"I know her the best." Wooyoung rolls his eyes.
"Still doesn't mean you know everything about her."
"Ew, why are you getting so defensive tonight?" He shakes his head, feeling the irritation within him grow the more Jiwoo presses it. He knows he isn't the best man to walk this Earth, but he also knows he'd be good to you. Good for you. He's been thinking about it a lot and he hates that he is— none of this makes sense to him, but he knows he'd be good.
"Don't you have to go see Hongjoong?"
"Once he's off, yeah." Jiwoo sips on her water. "What're you doing tonight? Getting into more shit with Choi San?"
"No, he's actually visiting his parents."
"Hm." She hums. "No booty call coming over?"
"No. Even if there was, you would not be getting that information." She scoffs.
"Grow up, Wooyoung."
"Grow up, Wooyoung." He mocks her. "Says the one who made the wild claim based off of nothing."
"You're so annoying." She tosses her sushi container into his trash before washing her cup of water. Despite their usual bickering, Jiwoo stays for a bit longer until Hongjoong texts her and lets her know he's finally off of work after putting in some overtime. Jiwoo helps tidy up Wooyoung's space before she's waving goodbye [aka flipping him off] and slamming his door shut. Wooyoung plops back onto his couch with the remainder of his food resting on the coffee table, scrolling through his phone. He goes through your texts, wondering if he should say anything or keep silent. He smiles to himself when he sees the pictures you've passed along from the photographer. He sees you've posted the picture with him on your Instagram and it tugs at his heart because not only do you rarely use Instagram, but you took that opportunity to post your pictures from the party— including the one where you've got your hand resting on his chest while he has an arm around you. He was happy to see you happy and comfortable. Having fun.
You glowed.
He'll never forget it.
—OLD TEXTS
you: hi! they uploaded the pics from the party!
you: *sends a group of pics at once*
wooyoung: yo goddamn!? we look good!
wooyoung: you look so pretty. 😍
you: 😀 stop !!
wooyoung: i'm so serious, good LORD. 😮💨
you: i'm blocking you.....
wooyoung: woah now, hey i'm kiddddding....
wooyoung: not really! but don't block me! i just can't help it!
you: you're too much 😂
wooyoung: can i post these?
you: go for it!
wooyoung: thank you ☺️
He sighs as he reaches the end of the thread.
He won't say anything. He'll let this unfold as it should, but it doesn't mean he can't be sad about it. Cause he sure as hell is and he's a bit anxious. Hopefully, you'll tell Yeosang the truth. Hopefully, you won't force yourself into anything you don't want or feel uncomfortable with.
As for you, the dinner really takes its turn for the worse after you and Yeosang eat away at your main meals, a pregnant silence falling between you two after a good hour of just talking and yapping away about life. You already knew it was coming at this point, you were just hoping you'd buy a little more time [as if you could put it off even more].
"So." He says awkwardly to cut the silence.
"Mhm?"
"Did you really enjoy the party?"
"I did. Did you?"
"Yeah. I just—" He looks at you with his head cocked to the side. "I was just surprised seeing you with Wooyoung." You pause before poking at your pasta and taking a small bite.
"Oh yeah, it was relatively last minute."
"Jiwoo's plan?"
"Why do you say that? Do you genuinely think Wooyoung wouldn't go with me?" You ask, a little offended at the way he sounds cause even though it was clearly planned and arranged, the insinuation from Yeosang doesn't hurt any less.
"No, not like that— I'm sorry, it came out of nowhere and caught me off guard. That's all." You cock a brow up.
"It just happened that way. Wooyoung wanted to go and I wanted to go in the end." Is all you respond with, chugging your second glass of wine before pouring yourself more. You really don't like the taste of this white wine either, but you'll take it cause it's better than sitting here without an ounce of alcohol to push you through. Give you more courage to finish the evening on a decent note, to be honest. "I had a really fun time, regardless."
"I saw." He pauses. "I wish you would've at least told me instead of showing up like that."
"I'm sorry."
"I think it's time for me to be honest and stop watching from the sidelines because I.. really like you, Y/N." His shoulders droop just as he sets his fork and knife down neatly onto the plate. You take the last bite of your meal before sipping on more wine to wash it down.
"I should have told you, but I didn't want to hurt you. Even if I did tell you, it wouldn't have changed anything."
"It wouldn't? Why wouldn't it have changed anything? I thought we might've had a chance." He's confused. He looks like he was expecting a completely different outcome, and that might've been your fault for not telling him right away. But, the moment is here now and you know you can't push it off any longer.
"No. I just.. I just can't, Yeo. I'm sorry." You barely get yourself to respond out of fear. You knew Yeosang wasn't the type to react— if anything, he'd be the most understanding. Though, it doesn't change the fact that you were still scared. You felt bad. You didn't want to hurt him, and you wanted to avoid this confrontation as much as possible even though you knew you needed to face it sooner than later. "I truthfully think we're good with where we're at, and I don't think we should mess that up. I love the way we are as good friends, bestfriends, and that's how I've always seen us." You can see the disappointment growing on his face every second, but he's trying hard to keep it under wraps while he briefly waves the waitress down for the check.
"C-can I ask? You can be honest." You silently nod. "Is it Wooyoung?" You shake your head.
"It was never about Wooyoung. Just us. Well, me. You're amazing, and you deserve the best. You deserve someone who is sure about you and who will reciprocate those feelings to no end. I'm sorry that I can't be that person, but at the same time, I know I can be your friend just like I always have been. That's what I can give you, and I hope you understand." You tell him softly. "I'm sorry." You repeat, feeling the tears brimming your bottom lids. "I should've opened up earlier. I really hope this doesn't change things between us."
"It won't, but I hope you understand it'll take me some time to move past it. I'm sorry for assuming or for— yeah." He shakes his thoughts away.
"Take all the time you need." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.
"Anyway." Yeosang signs off on the receipt before tucking his card back into his wallet and standing. "Let's get you home."
"Okay." You shimmy out of the booth to head out of the restaurant. This time, Yeosang doesn't hold your hand. In fact, he trails behind you, keeping at a safe distance. You can immediately see the change— how stiff and awkward he's become. You don't blame him for it; he's hurting and you know he needs his space more than anything.
You can't wait to get home.
The ride is fucking awful. It's the most quiet you've seen Yeosang. The most closed-off and serious he's ever been towards you. His hand is clutching the wheel tightly, but the music is comforting enough to fill the void. You continue to look out of the passenger's window, keeping to yourself until Yeosang asks about your plans for the rest of the weekend. There isn't much going on for you, so that conversation dies quickly. Luckily for you, Yeosang is about to pull up to your street. He stops the car by your building, shifting the gear to park before helping you out of the car. You give him a small, sympathetic smile before pulling him into a hug— giving his back a gentle rub.
"Sleep well, alright? I'll see you next week."
"You too." With that, he walks off, waiting until you at least unlock and crack your door open. When you get a whiff of your candle that you lit up earlier in the morning, you realize you don't really wanna stay home right now; to sulk, to drown in your thoughts alone, to have to listen to the loudness in a quiet space. So, you shut the door again, head back down the steps and walk to the convenience store nearby. You grab a bottle of yogurt soju, along with your favorite chips and strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar— plopping yourself down onto one of the tables right outside the store. You're quick to crack open the bottle and drink away, also eating away at the chips since you didn't feel incredibly satisfied with the dinner earlier. It might've just been all the emotions and tension in the air, but anywho, the chips and the soju taste better than ever. Sooner or later, you find yourself tipsier, cheeks lit on fire, hands clammy; barely hitting the halfway point with the soju bottle. You lazily scroll through your phone as you begin to eat away at the ice cream bar, revisiting those party pictures.
You wonder what Wooyoung is doing, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.
"Ugh." You whine and pout to yourself, pulling up your texts to see if Jiwoo can come to your rescue. You opted for listing Jiwoo and Wooyoung as Jung 1 and Jung 2 to keep it easy and simple; except, it obviously doesn't work well in this case when you accidentally pull up the text with Jung 2 instead of Jung 1 while you wipe away at the tears that suddenly begin to stream down your cheeks.
you: oof .... that dinner was kinda awful i feel terrible
you: kinda?! not even kinda it WAS awfullll
you: i'm sitting outside of our fav convenience store by my olace
you: eating strawberry cheesecake ice cfream!!
you: jiwooooooo
you: jung 1!!!!
Wooyoung furrows his brows at the constant dinging of his phone, unsure of who the hell could be blowing up his phone right now. He even sits for a minute, wondering if there's anybody he's pissed off in the last few days [besides his sister].
"Hm." He hums when he comes up with nothing, nobody. He picks up the phone and scrolls through the previews, chuckling to himself when he sees your name pop up on the screen. Clearly by accident.
you: jiwoo jung 1 pls help come to my rescue it was not good! idk if yeo n i will be friens still ☹️☹️☹️
wooyoung: sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but this is jung 2. 😙
wooyoung: also i won't hold it against you that i've been slotted as number 2 when i should be number 1 esp after the party. 🫤 but it's cool or whatever......
You squint at the brightness of your phone, slowly eating away at your strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar. You almost drop the damn thing when you realize you've actually been blowing up the wrong phone, horrified it had to be Wooyoung, too.
He must think you're a gem, truly.
He does, though. In a very good, non-sarcastic way.
you: omggg i'm so sorry wooyoung jung 2 ☹️
you: i mean jung 1 technically
wooyoung: lol no worries, don't be sorry. you okay?
you: yes but no?
wooyoung: stay put.
You cock a brow up in confusion, wondering if Wooyoung was telling you to stay put because he was on his way or because he just needed you to get yourself together. You listen anyway, sitting on the little chair outside of the convenience store, silently eating away at your ice cream with your phone lit on your lap. You completely forget about texting Jiwoo amidst all of this, assuming she's busy anyway. The wind is slowly picking up, cooling the tip of your nose and surface of your cheeks— settling the heat from the soju. You shiver and run a hand down your arm, hoping the wind slows in between its waves. You continue to mindlessly scroll through your phone, even picking up your game of Wordle for the day. Just as you get lost in thought, a car parks in a spot in between your building and the convenience store. You look up as you bite into the last of your ice cream bar, hearing the muffled bass from the music in the car. Wooyoung steps out in a grey hoodie and matching sweats, a black beanie on his head. He approaches you with a small smile with his hands dug deep into his pockets, crouching to your level as he continues to look at you.
"W-Wooyoung." You hiccup as you sit on the bench, setting your trash down next to you. Wooyoung gives you a small smile, thumb wiping away at your tears.
"Wanna tell me why you've been out here eating ice cream alone?" He eyes your snacks of choice. "And.. a half bottle of soju and chips? I thought you had dinner with Yeosang."
"I did, and it was terrible and sad." You sniff. "Well, not the food. I just couldn't enjoy it as much. I even tried to drink that bitter white wine he ordered just to get me through."
"And you're drinking soju now? Really must have been that bad."
"Bad bad." You pout and he laughs.
"I'm sorry." He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze before patting it. "Come on, let's get you home." He stands, holding out his hand. You gladly take it in yours, his thumb swiping over your knuckles in an attempt to try and warm it up. He grabs the soju and the chips in his other, leading the way to your building. He quietly heads up the steps, stepping aside and letting go of your hand to let you open your door. When you step back into the warmth of your studio, you instantly kick off your shoes and slip into your slippers—lighting up your candle to bring more heat into the room.
"I'm gonna set your chips and soju aside." Wooyoung says, tightly tying your chips close so it doesn't get stale before setting your bottle of soju aside in the fridge.
"Thank you." You set your bag down and let out a sigh.
"Glad I was able to get you home safely." He chuckles a bit, jingling his keys in his hand. You don't want Wooyoung to leave, especially after he made the effort to get dressed and come to your rescue.
"Wooyoung?" He cocks a brow up when you turn to face him. "Can you stay?" He takes a moment before he nods, unsure how he could turn you down with you looking up at him that way.
So innocently. So delicately. Eyes yearning for company you can be comforted with, need to be comforted with.
"Yeah, of course. As long as you're okay with me poking around and making some food." You giggle and nod.
"Go for it." You grab your pajamas. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. Feel free to get comfortable and flip through the channels." You turn on the TV for him before shutting yourself within the bathroom walls to shower and get comfy for the evening.
As you shower and get ready for bed that evening, you hear Wooyoung humming and singing a Blackstreet song to himself in your kitchen. After brushing your teeth, you finish up the last of your skincare routine before heading back outside.
"Finally." Wooyoung turns over his shoulder and quickly scans you from head to toe. "I was getting lonely."
"I didn't even take that long."
"It was long. You and Jiwoo take the longest showers known to man." He frowns a bit, making you giggle to yourself. You plop on your couch, now in your oversized crewneck and pajama pants. You're no longer tipsy, probably a little too sober for your liking especially knowing Wooyoung is in your studio. You do find his company comforting, though. You feel bad he had to come and rescue you, but you'd rather be here than anywhere else after that dinner with Yeosang. You tuck your legs to your chest, flipping through the tv channels only to land on Kiki's Delivery Service. It's already 20 minutes in, but it doesn't bother you knowing the movie so well. Wooyoung is still going through your stash of food, pulling out a bowl of jajangmyeon. While he waits for the hot water to properly cook the noodles, he dices up some pickled radish and some cucumbers, and quickly boils two eggs to perfection. When the noodles are done, he sets everything into the bowl neatly before grabbing a cold water bottle and plopping onto the couch next to you.
"What'd you do today?" You look at him just as he starts digging into the bowl.
"Work. Then Jiwoo came earlier in the night with some food from my favorite Japanese spot."
"Sushi Kashiwa?"
"Aw, you know?" Wooyoung smirks.
"Because Jiwoo has mentioned it one too many times." You chuckle. "That's cute, though."
"She only did it cause she was waiting for Hongjoong to get out of work. And to kiss my ass about the party."
"And because she loves you." He fake shivers.
"Ew. Please don't say that again." He looks at you and you snort. "Want a bite? I made it for us to share in case you were still hungry." He edges his chopsticks your way, watching as you shake your head in response.
"I'm good. Thank you though, Woo."
"Suit yourself, princess. I whipped up a good one." You laugh, settling into the couch as you continue to watch the movie. Wooyoung catches you slipping your sleeves over your palms in his peripherals and although he's pretty warm and cozy in your studio, you must still feel cold. He hurriedly slurps up the remaining of the noodles before gulping the entirety of his water bottle down. He lets out a noise that makes you laugh, kicking his head back in satisfaction. "Damn, that was good."
"Glad you enjoyed." You poke his arm and he smiles. "Is this movie okay with you?"
"Yeah, of course. Can never go wrong with Studio Ghibli movies. Unless, you're down to watch something scary?"
"Never."
"Why not? I'm here."
"But, whatever scary movie we'll watch, it'll live in my head for the next few days and you won't be here."
"I could be, you just have to call me and I'll come. Like tonight."
"Wooyoung." You pout. "Today's was an accident."
"So, you didn't want me to come? That's funny, cause I didn't see another text from you after I told you to stay put, baby girl." He smirks and you shake your head shyly.
"I'm sorry." You continue to fiddle with your sleeves.
"Don't be. I'm just teasing, I wanted to come."
"Thank you. I needed it." You finally manage to let out as you look at him and scooch a little closer. He gives you a tiny smile before shifting his attention back to the TV, the both of you engaging in small talk about the characters here and there.
At some point, Wooyoung subtly inches in and closes off any gaps, quietly slipping his arm behind you. You silently chuckle to yourself when you see him playing it off, acting as if he hadn't done anything to get closer to you. But, the whole thing feels.. nice. It feels safe. It feels warm. Wooyoung really isn't expecting anything out of this— he is testing the waters to see how comfortable you'd be with him, but that's truly it. That's the intention. Just to make you feel comfortable and better after tonight's dinner. He definitely wasn't expecting you to lean your head against him, snuggling up to him as closely as possible.
"You okay? Comfortable?" He asks softly. You look up at him and nod, settling back into your position on him.
"Mhm. You're warm." He laughs a bit when he hears that, keeping you close. As the movie continues with the both of you watching silently, you find yourself shifting in your position; arm fully coming around Wooyoung's torso. He doesn't mind one bit. As a matter of fact, he loves that you've gotten comfortable enough to do so.
He drops his arm down from the edge of the couch, holding you from behind as the movie continues to play. He gently rubs at your side before his hand falls to your hips. You feel Wooyoung's hand gently squeeze at it before sneaking right underneath your sweater. You freeze, but more so because you're surprised by his touch— not because you don't want him to be right where he is.
"Are you feeling better?"
"I don't know. I just feel bad." You say, eyes still on the TV ahead while you slowly began to relax in his hold.
"You were honest with him, right?" Wooyoung asks as a simple way to poke for more information and get you to open up about dinner. "Wanna tell me how the dinner went?" He traces faint, soft circles on your bare side.
"I was, and I guess that's why I feel bad. It started off fine. We went to the restaurant and we were talking as we always do. Random topics, jokes, going on about life updates. It went downhill when we got our food. It was quiet for a little bit and I knew he was thinking about what to say or how to say it." You pause. "He asked if I enjoyed the party. I said yes, then he asked if it was Jiwoo's plan." Wooyoung cocks a brow.
"What'd you say?"
"I got kinda defensive." You sigh, leaving out the whole moment of you asking Yeo if he thought Wooyoung wouldn't genuinely go to a party with you. "But anyway, I said you wanted to go.. and so did I. And I had a fun time with you."
"Atta girl." He laughs a bit. "And then?"
"He apologized and said he just wished I told him instead of surprisingly showing up. Then.. he laid it out. Said he had feelings for me and couldn't watch on the sidelines anymore. He felt like there could've been a chance, which was probably my fault for keeping that door open for too long." You sit up and face him, Wooyoung's arm still lazily holding you from behind. "I told him that even if I told him about the party beforehand, it wouldn't have changed anything because I couldn't. I liked us the way we were and that we were good as bestfriends. He deserved someone who was sure of him and who could reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly."
"Then, you didn't do anything wrong, Y/N." You shrug before subconsciously grabbing a piece of lint on Wooyoung's hoodie and flicking it off.
"He asked something else."
"Which was?"
"He asked if this was about you, a-and I said no." You avoid eye contact and lick your lips out of nervousness.
"I see." Wooyoung smiles a bit before shifting up in his seat to get closer to you. He leans his cheek onto the palm of his hand, his arm that was behind you is now on the back of the couch— elbow resting on the edge. "Why can't you look at me?" He smirks teasingly.
"I am." You look at him for a minute before shifting your eyes elsewhere in the living room.
"Was it really not about me, hm?" He hums, brushing the hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. "You can tell me, love." He tries to pull you closer by the hand, and you let him.
"Can I?" His eyes quickly shift to the way you play around with his fingers.
"Course."
"Maybe it was."
"Just maybe?" He looks at your lips. "You think that's why you feel bad?" Brief pause. "That you might actually have feelings for me and you couldn't tell him that part?"
"Maybe." You repeat, his lips only inches away from yours. "Isn't that kinda silly?"
"No? I still don't think you did anything wrong, Y/N."
"Really, Woo?" There you go asking him so sweetly again. It's at this point when Wooyoung feels like he can no longer contain himself because you're giving him the answer he had been looking for; straight on a silver platter.
"Mhm. As far as I know, you were honest when it came to him. What's between us is our business and not his." He says, his tone just barely above a whisper. You don't really know what comes over you, maybe you did have a little bit of liquid courage still running through your veins especially cause what happens next catches you slightly off-guard. You're so sure about your feelings for him, but unsure about Wooyoung's and how he even feels. This could all be a game that he plays, something he does with other women even if he says it isn't.
Guess it doesn't matter much right now. Can't, anyways.
Within the next second, you find yourself initiating the first kiss with Wooyoung; a kiss that feels long overdue. You lean forward and press your lips against his own soft, plump lips, quickly pulling back to get ready and apologize—
But, he doesn't let you.
He chases after you.
He cups your cheeks and brings you back, thumb gently caressing the surface of your cheek. You haven't kissed someone like this in awhile, but with Wooyoung, it feels.. right.
Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.
He tries to take it slow with you, even when you crawl onto his lap and wrap your arms around him. The kiss becomes more heated, lips bruising from the rising intensity, hunger. Wooyoung slowly slips his tongue in, and hearing a small whimper from you in response only has him gripping your hips harder.
He quickly learns he likes kissing you.
"Been waiting to do this." He says against your lips.
"Have you?" You ask, your tone filled with lust as you continue to peck him with small, repeated kisses.
"Just didn't wanna scare you away."
"You wouldn't have."
"Have to be extra careful with you, baby. You aren't just anybody." The pet name rolls off his tongue so easily that it makes your head tilt back as the desire builds. He continues to hold you close as you slowly roll your hips against him, Wooyoung now kissing your jaw before gently sucking and licking on the surface of your neck;
The column, your throat.
You feel him come to the base and suck a little harder, and you're hoping it doesn't leave much of a mark. If it does, it doesn't fucking matter to you right now— nothing does. Because all you want is for Wooyoung to devour you. To give you everything, to ruin you so good.
"Is this okay? I don't wanna do anything you're not comfortable with—"
"Keep going, Wooyoung. Please." You cut him off. It takes a second for Wooyoung to register your pleading, that 'please' being the one thing that flips his switch. It's not only a want, but a heavy craving. He's got some sort of eagerness to show you just what you've been missing.
"Hold onto me." He says, lifting you with ease as he carries you over to your bed and plops you onto the mattress. He slowly crawls over you, his warm, large hands now cascading up your sweatshirt. Your breathing hitches when he reaches just above your rib cage, and Wooyoung stops when he feels your body tense in his grip. "You sure you're okay?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, down to your nose, your lips. He looks you in the eye with slight concern, afraid of scaring you. The last thing he wants you to think is that he's purely using you for other reasons— when it's definitely more than that.
Wooyoung wants to show you, in case he's bad at voicing his feelings. Cause he can be, clearly. But, he could at least show you and take care of you properly.
"I am."
"You trust me, yeah?" You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod, continuing to keep contact with Wooyoung. "I'll take care of you as long as you let me."
"I want you to." This time, Wooyoung dips forward to lock you into another deep, fervent kiss. His hands are finally roaming further up; Wooyoung letting out a low groan when he finds out you're braless. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple, tongues fighting for dominance while your hands are tangled in the ends of his hair. You toss his beanie off just as he starts to tug your crewneck over your head and you follow suit with his hoodie. He nibbles on your jaw just before sucking harshly on the skin of your neck. His hand travels down and slips into your pajama pants, fingers delicately rubbing at your clothed pussy that sends a million jolts down your spine. You twitch in response, and Wooyoung can't help but chuckle against your neck.
"So reactive." He teases.
"It's been awhile, Woo."
"And? That's fine, baby. Told you I'd take good care of you." He raises himself slightly to watch your reaction in real-time. "Does that feel good?" He asks, close to a whisper.
"Yes." You bite your bottom lip and shut your eyes, sighing in satisfaction.
"God. Can feel how wet you are already." Wooyoung feels himself getting painfully hard against your thigh, imagining how tight you are. He doesn't wanna waste another moment, and he thinks he'll lose it if he isn't inside of you within the next few seconds. "Let's take this off, hm?" He hums, hands already tugging your panties and pajama pants down. "Do you have a condom?"
"Don't need it. I'm on the pill."
"You're sure? I'm clean, but I'll do whatever you're okay with. Just say the word." He asks again to be extra sure.
"I am, I'm sure." You nod eagerly. The pill was mainly to help regulate your heavy, irregular periods, but you'd say you do appreciate it a little more now for this particular reason.
"You're so hot, jesus fucking christ." Wooyoung doesn't say anything else before he's keenly kissing you again, hastily getting out of his sweats.
Sooner or later, the rest of Wooyoung's clothes are joining yours on the floor; Wooyoung not wasting any seconds reattaching his lips to yours after slipping them off.
Wooyoung pauses when he sees you fixed on his length— eyes hazy and full of desire. It's giving Wooyoung the biggest fucking ego boost, but that's not important. He strokes himself a few times before lining up with your entrance. He slowly eases himself in, the both of you letting out lewd moans as you both adjust to the feeling. You're tightly wrapped around him and Wooyoung has to keep his composure as he buries himself deep to the hilt. Wooyoung keeps his pace slow and steady; forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts into you. It's nothing rushed, everything about it is slow— so tender, so careful.
So safe.
"Wooyoung." You moan his name and his brain short-circuits every time you say it the way you do. On top of that, your little whimpers are doing a number on him, but he's trying to keep it together for awhile longer.
"Doing so well for me, love." He gently bites your chin just as he slightly picks up his pace. He hovers a bit, lips coming back up to meet you in a sweet kiss. He holds it for a minute longer, tongue swiping over your lips as he rolls his hips into you.
It's intimate.
It's deep.
It's raw.
It's nothing he'd do to his booty calls, no. Everything about those moments are forced and rushed, the end goal having to nut as quickly as possible and get them the hell out of his space.
With you, he's loving every second. He wants to relish in the way your walls feel around him, wants to relish in the way your fingers thread through his hair, wants to relish in the way you kiss him so slowly, so passionately. Like every kiss holds the answers to the universe and you're afraid you'll miss a single detail.
He rests his nose, lips, against your cheek just as he releases a shaky breath, still taking his time as he works his way with you. He comes down to your neck and leaves feathery pecks against the surface while his body is pressed flushed against yours. He turns his head and you've fully wrapped your arms around him. The pace is perfect, with Wooyoung working his hips in circular motions just to hit you in all the right places. He praises you as you continue to moan for him, pretty little mewls slipping from your lips while he tells you how captivating, how angelic, you are for him.
How perfect you are for him.
You find your hips have a mind of their own, working to match Wooyoung's movements. You feel the pleasure building quick at your core, and you know it won't take long from there.
"Wooyoung— just like that, please—oh my god." You sob. While he continues to expertly thrust into you and keep you close, the friction against him causes the coil within you to snap harshly, nails digging deep into Wooyoung's shoulders while he thrusts harder, a bit rougher, to meet his high.
"F-fuck, baby. I'm about to—" He moans a little louder when he feels you clench a few times around him from the aftershock, quickly pulling out and releasing onto your pussy and abdomen. "Shit—fuck." He pants, finally coming back down from euphoria to see how mesmerizing you look splayed out beneath him; white ribbons of cum painted on your skin. He's completely enamored by you. "Mm'sorry babygirl, let's get you cleaned up." You giggle and shake your head.
"Please, it's fine. Stop looking, you're making me shy again."
"Don't be. You look beautiful." He laughs, slipping on his boxers. "Let me clean you up." He runs to your bathroom to grab some wipes, doing a light jog to clean you up well. You grab your panties and your crewneck after he's done— throwing them on and snuggling under your covers. You fully expect Wooyoung to get dressed and leave [which would suck], but he doesn't. You quietly watch as he shuts off your TV and the lights, going to the bathroom for a quick wash up. Afterwards, he immediately slips underneath your covers right next to you, pulling you onto his chest.
"You're staying?"
"Why wouldn't I?" He chuckles. "C'mere." He pulls you closer. "Sleepy?"
"Incredibly." He smiles.
"I put in some work, huh?"
"Wooyoung." You pout, lightly smacking his chest.
"I'm just joking." He subtly bites his lip. "Can I have one more kiss before we sleep?" You lean up and peck him on the lips a few times, with Wooyoung holding the last kiss before pulling away. "Goodnight, pretty girl."
"Goodnight." You mumble, falling asleep within seconds as you cuddle snuggly against him. Because with Wooyoung, it feels.. right.
Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.
—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav @wooyoungsbrat @hyukssunflower @yunhoswrldddd
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It's Not Living (If It's Not With You) | JJK
At thirty-two, you thought you had your life figured out. That is until you received a call one day:
"You need to go to Gangwon Police Station now. There are two people here: One thirty-something male claiming to be your husband, and the other is a three-year-old girl claiming to be your daughter. They say they won't leave unless you, the mom of the family, pick them up."
Or alternatively,
a series of events where you fall in love with Jungkook, become a mom, solve your dead best friend's case, and wriggle out of old money's grasp, but not necessarily in this order. (Maybe all at once. Who knows?)
Genre and warnings: enemies to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining, OMG there is only one bed, forced proximity, cohabitating, enemies to friends to lovers, co-parenting, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, car accidents, law, this fic is originally written as an AOT au, but i've changed it to a JJK one, so please pardon any Japanese terms mentioned (they're not too relevant anyway) some of the characters are from aot too. i'm too lazy to change them haha
Pairing: Police Lieutenant! Jungkook x Lawyer!!Reader
Word Count: 45.5k
Spotify playlist here
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It's Friday.
Unlike others, you considered Friday just like any other day—it is a hectic time where you're deeply engrossed in reading what seemed to be an unending stack of files.
People working under you had already gone home. You allowed them to clock out an hour earlier, not hesitating to hand them your card so they could dine at whatever restaurant they liked.
Your employees deserved it after working 45 hours this week. It's the least thing you could do, though they wished you could extend the same treatment to yourself. Unfortunately, being a lawyer didn't give you the luxury to have a fun Friday night out.
You're stuck in the office, finalizing the cases you'd present before the court next week. Some might think you only needed to endure this day before fully giving yourself a break, but that's not true. Your weekend wasn't any better as you'd be spending it taking pro bono cases to help lower your taxes and prove to others that you did not fully succumb to this cruel, capitalistic world.
Speaking of capitalism, you've heard a quick but shy knock on the door. The person outside knew too well not to disturb you on a Friday night, but some things were inevitable.
"Come in," you ordered casually. Your eyes were still trained on the paper on your desk.
The door flew open as you heard your secretary's pointed heels hitting the cold tiles. Timidly, she said, "Sorry to disturb you, Attorney. We have an urgent case concerning your top client."
You hadn't heard the details of the case, yet you could already feel the veins in your head pulsating. This couldn't be any good. Your top client was the Braun-Grice family. The past months had already been too troublesome. What could those brats have done this time?
"Let me guess," you lazily highlighted the paper with red marks before staring at your secretary. "It's Gabi and Falco again, isn't it? Did they vandalize some rich man's house again?"
Your secretary wished it was that simple. She shook her head, "I'm afraid they've done worse than that." Her voice turned solemn. "The teens are involved in a car accident."
You were startled, immediately letting go of your highlighter. The boredom in your face completely disappeared as you questioned your secretary seriously. "What did they do? Let me see the file."
Mina was an obedient employee. She chose to stay in the office with you but with no intention of beating around the bush. She handed you the file immediately, "Ms. Braun called me earlier and said she and Falco need to see you now. They're in Busan Police Station."
Your hands on the file froze. Busan? What were those brats doing in your hometown? Gabi and Falco were both from Seoul. It's also still a weekday, meaning they had classes. Did they skip school to fuck around?
Mina filled in the blanks for you, "Ms. Braun is remorseful over the other line. She said she and Falco were super stressed in school, so they thought, why not try throttle therapy to ease their minds?"
You laughed derisively upon hearing that. Throttle fucking therapy, my ass. You bet it was Gabi's idea. She had always claimed to be fearless and unstoppable because she knew her family was affluent not just in Seoul but all over Japan.
"So what? Did their car crash into something? How much is the damage?" You finally opened the police report. The incident happened approximately three hours ago. Gabi could only reach your secretary after her medical check-up and giving a statement to the traffic police.
That brat! You had told her countless times to keep her useless mouth shut and wait for you to show up. Why did she never learn!?
"That's the thing. The damage isn't convertible in monetary value. Mr. Grice drove the car because Ms. Braun induced him to do so. Unfortunately, they hit two pedestrians before crashing into a tree."
Numbness crawled from your feet to your face. There was ringing in your ears, and you could've sworn your heart stopped beating when you saw the crime scene pictures.
"The victims are a married couple on their way home. Falco immediately called the police to report the incident. The paramedics came at once, but the victims were proven to be dead on arrival."
It's a miracle you could still hear Mina talk despite the nausea attempting to envelope you whole. Tears began to pool in your eyes, and before you knew it, they were already falling straight to wet the cuff of your long-sleeved shirt.
It's black.
The color of your top was black. Its design was similar to the one the dead victim was wearing. Only the color was different. Hers was white, making the blood staining her shirt so bright that it hurt your already bloodshot eyes.
White and black. She wore white because you claimed it fit her innocent personality more. Black was yours because it was as dark as your soul. The shirt was the perfect Christmas gift. Only two pairs were made by the designer. You paid a huge sum of money for these clothes.
You couldn't be mistaken.
You knew the victim all too well.
"The victims have been identified. The woman is named Sora Kang; the other is her husband, an Italian citizen named Niccolo."
That's all you need to hear before you clamp the folder shut. You stood up, "Cancel all my upcoming cases—Pro bono or not—I don't care. I'm going to Busan tonight."
"Yes, Attorney." Mina handed you two tickets. "I've already contacted someone to buy the bullet train tickets for us. It's the fastest route to Busan."
If this was any other day, you'd probably praise her for being the most reliable secretary, but this wasn't like your typical busy Friday.
You were still as busy as ever, but one thing had changed.
Sora, your childhood best friend, had died.
"I'm going to Busan alone." You tossed the keys to your house in this city to Mina, "I need you to go to my place first. There's a brown box under my bed. Pack it along with my other things—clothes and necessities. You already know that. Send it to Busan. The address is written on the lid of the brown box. I expect you to finish your job in two hours. I'll see you then."
Mina had no objections. She practically ran out of the office after you gave your orders.
Your train would leave in twenty minutes. The short time was not enough, but you forced yourself to gather your wits and temporarily bandage your broken heart.
After that, you went straight to the train station with one thing on your mind:
Clean this mess up.
***
It was quiet at the police station when you arrived. As expected, the Busan Police Division was not idle. Chief Police Kim Namjoon probably stationed his subordinates all over the city. Only Officer Park Jimin was at the front desk.
You wasted no time and showed your license to him; Jimin immediately directed you to the interrogation room where Falco and Gabi were being mentally intimidated.
As a seasoned lawyer, your head was held high as you barged inside the room, ignoring Jimin, who was anxiously coaxing you to calm down.
Of course, he'd tell you to calm down. Jimin was one of your childhood friends who had always been calm and rational. He didn't like solving things with violence, but he was smart enough to know you would not listen to him—not after you saw from the interrogation room window how the interrogator raised his fist to punch Falco. It was the typical intimidation to force a confession out of a suspect. You had encountered this scene many times, so your mind and body seemed to be on autopilot when you faced the interrogator.
You grabbed the devices used to record Gabi and Falco's confession and broke them. At once, all proof gathered in the past hours vanished into thin air.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Gabi, Falco, and the interrogator were dumbfounded by your sudden action.
"You dare!?" The interrogator was the first one to recover from the shock. He quickly turned to you. Intense fury painted his pathetic face as he clenched his hands into tight fists.
His reaction did not faze you one bit. In fact, it only prompted you to say your piece, "Article III, Section 19 of the Constitution states that the employment of physical, psychological, or degrading tactics against a suspect to force out a confession is punishable by the law."
Reciting a provision of the law verbatim was one of your favorite hobbies to defeat opponents. It usually leaves your heart with joy and pride whenever you see their faces morphing into anger and embarrassment. However, none of those exhilarating feelings envelop you.
There was only grief and nostalgia gripping your already broken heart. It was a shame none of these harrowing emotions could be traced in your face—as expected of a ruthless lawyer.
You continued with your attack, "If I remember it right, this is your seven years in public service, so pray tell, Police Lieutenant Jeon Jungkook, how can you not know this basic law even student police knows?"
The mockery in your voice was palpable. Only fools wouldn't realize your intention to humiliate the interrogator. Unfortunately, Jungkook didn't give you the satisfaction of winning this game.
He soon caught up with you, "I didn't realize you keep track of my position and years of service, little miss esquire."
The burning fury was still visible on Jungkook's face, but it was now mixed with disgust. Jungkook was the type of person who'd proudly wear his heart on his sleeve, especially if it meant getting a jab at you.
It worked. A bubble of anger rushed in you when Jungkook refused to say your name and used your title as a lawyer instead. It's a poor attempt to rile you up, really. He acted as if he didn't remember your name—couldn't care less to remember it. It aimed straight at your pride—his subtle mockery crushed you, but he didn't end it with just that.
"Is it part of your schemes? Knowing what your enemies do, I mean. Do you keep track of us so you can use it to fuck us up?"
Jungkook folded his arms across his chest and jutted his chin out. He was already tall, so his current stance only made him look bigger—like he could swallow you in one go.
That's what Jungkook did in the end. He chewed you out, "I wouldn't be surprised. Seeing that your greed won against your dead best friend."
It was a low blow and Jungkook knew it, but you getting hurt never deterred him from hurting you further.
"You know, don't you?"
You could keep your face impassive all day, but you couldn't fool Jungkook. One look at you, and he already knew you had gone from Seoul to Busan in haste. It sparked Jungkook's abhorrence even more.
"You know, and you still went here for them." The sharpness and accusation tinging his tone made you and the two teens flinch. That's when you came back to the realization that you and Jungkook were not alone in this room.
This always happened. You and Jungkook seemed to lose sight of your surroundings whenever you started fighting. Seeing Falco and Gabi's worn-out faces brought you back to the cruel reality.
This wasn't like your usual bickering with Jungkook during your high school days. This time, you two were barring your fangs and claws out, full of displaced hatred and pain because Sora was dead.
It took everything in you not to cry. Your legs were turning soft like you were about to pass out any moment from now. Jungkook's red-rimmed eyes felt like the blood that was sucked out of your heart.
"You disgust me." This was Jungkook's final words before walking away, leaving you with only a loud slam of the door.
"A-Attorney..." Gabi tried calling for you until your attention was focused on them.
You did not respond to her call but stomped in her direction. Every click of your pointed heels shook Falco and Gabi's hearts. Gone was the smug look on Gabi's face that appeared every time you came to bail her out of jail.
This case was different. She couldn't make it all go away with money. Gabi looked helpless. Her lips were quivering when she tried calling out for you again, "A-Attorney, please help us—"
Slap!
Gabi's ear hurt. In her nineteen years of existence, this was the first time someone dared lay a hand on her. Gabi was baffled yet couldn't look you in the eyes. Her head remained tilted to the side, allowing you to see the tears cascading down her left cheek.
It was Falco who tried to stop you. His eyes were full-blown panic as he tried to talk some senses into you, "Attorney, don't. Please calm--"
Slap!
You laid a hand on Falco's cheek, too. Naturally, Gabi tried defending her lover by grabbing your hand. You let her grip your right hand because it wouldn't deter you from using your other hand to slap her again.
The teens were teaming up against you. When you slap Falco, Gabi will rescue him, and vice versa. All they did was grab your hand, though. They didn't dare fight back, making it easy for you to alternately slap them until your hands ached.
In the end, the two resigned to their fate and simply allowed you to numb their cheeks with pain.
But it wasn't enough.
No amount of physical pain could equal the lives they had taken because of recklessness. The same goes for you. No amount of pain would justify dereliction of duty. As of now, you were left with no choice but to continue doing your job as a lawyer. You fished a calling card from your slacks' pocket and threw it across Falco's chest.
The calling card fell on the floor. The teens did not dare pick it up or even look at it. But your following words made their bodies tremble.
"If I were you, I'd pick that up and start calling my new lawyer, as I will no longer be representing you in court."
Gabi was wise enough to bend and reluctantly pick up the card. You wanted to step on her fingers and crush them with your pointed heels. But you did not.
Seeing tears form in Gabi's eyes when she spotted the name of the new lawyer you recommended brought you more joy than stepping on her fingers.
The new lawyer was Reiner Braun. He wasn't supposed to be a lawyer in the first place. Reiner was Gabi's cousin; their family's connection made it easy for Reiner to pass the bar despite his lack of knowledge and power. Frankly speaking, Gabi knew this. She tried to argue with you, but you cut her off with another resounding slap.
"You have the audacity to still ask me?" Unadulterated anger settled at the pit of your stomach. You were so mad you ended up laughing. You balled your hands into fists and hid them behind you. It's for the better; otherwise, you would also end up in prison because of an assault.
"Your idiocy harmed my best friend. She and her husband died while you two fuckers remain in my line of sight—alive." You emphasized the last word with so much hatred, "So don't think even for a second that I will still be representing you in court. Because if I was..." The corner of your mouth turned up as you trailed off.
You looked at Gabi and Falco from head to toe. Only the blind couldn't see the threat dancing in your eyes. "I'll make sure you won't just lose the case. You'll get the maximum penalty, and I'll leave your ten next generations in shambles."
Falco's eyelashes fluttered. Gabi, on the other hand, gripped the card as if her life depended on it. They were resigning to their fate once more.
Good, because you could only take so much in an hour. There were still many things to patch up, and so you turned to leave, following the trail of footsteps Jungkook left.
***
Jungkook thought he was going crazy.
One would think that being in service for seven years would already desensitize his heart from crimes. He supposed that, to some extent, that was true. Unfortunately, no one had prepared Jungkook for all the negative feelings welling up in his chest as he dealt with the suspects involving the death of his loved one.
Sora.
A wave of nausea hit Jungkook as the image of Sora's dead body flashed in his mind. The feeling of helplessness was the worst punch in his gut, leaving his fist aching to beat the two teens in front of him.
Falco and Gabi remained rooted in their spot. Jungkook did not know what to do with them anymore. Whenever Falco confessed his crime, Gabi would refute it by saying it was all her fault. Jungkook couldn't care less about their heroic act; he just wanted someone to pay for Sora's death, but Falco had no plans of condemning Gabi either. He looked at Jungkook with tears, saying that Gabi was innocent.
Fucking brats! Jungkook couldn't take it anymore. He raised his fist to punch Falco; unfortunately, you barged into the room and ruined everything. It's bad enough that Jungkook didn't get to beat up Falco. How dare you destroy his evidence, too!?
"Damn it!" Jungkook kicked the pebbles outside the station. He initially left the interrogation room to cool down a little, but Jimin, his comrade, stopped him from getting back inside. Apparently, you told Jimin about that bullshit called the Bill of Rights.
"I'm sorry, Jungkook. Captain Yoongi called. He told me to get you out of the station as soon as possible. You're barred from participating in this investigation. Captain Yoongi is on his way now. He'll be the one interrogating the suspects."
"You can't do this to me, Jimin." Jungkook shook his head, refusing the Captain's order. "Sora's my best friend. You are her friend too! We need to avenge her!"
Jimin surely loved Sora, too, so he understood Jungkook to some extent. But he knew Captain Yoongi's decision was for the better. Jungkook was currently not in the right state of mind. He was grieving. Bloodlust was apparent in his eyes. If he wasn't careful enough, he might ruin this case.
"Go home, Jungkook." Jimin held Jungkook's shoulder firmly, "Or help Taehyung with the arrangement. He's alone and hurting, too."
Right. Jungkook's heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he thought about Taehyung. If anyone's hurting beyond repair right now, it had to be Taehyung. The latter and Sora were like inseparable twins.
Jungkook wanted to see Taehyung after interrogating Falco and Gabi—a form of consolation, if you might. Regrettably, it wasn't possible now, and it was your fault. Nothing ever went Jungkook's way when you were around.
You and Jungkook have known each other since you were kids. You were from the same street in Busan, so it was almost impossible not to see his face daily. You two were even classmates in your schooling days. In fact, you and Jungkook were pretty popular in school, but not for a good reason.
You two made people want to pull their hair out as you took being rivals too seriously. You argued about the smallest thing, wanting to appear as the stronger one, the smarter one, and the braver one.
But the thing was, your fights with Jungkook were never serious. It was more like teenage bickering. Admittedly, the whole school knew you, Sora, Jungkook, and Taehyung as the Idiot Quartet. Sora and Taehyung played pranks on everyone and did not care much about their academic performance. Meanwhile, you and Jungkook were academic rivals who went out of your way to win against the other. It was so petty that the other students thought you were idiots.
The anger Jungkook felt for you years ago was still apparent today, but he couldn't deny that it changed into something worse.
Hatred.
He'd known you for an ambitious woman who never backed down. You weren't content with your life in Busan and thus moved to Seoul. That part was naturally acceptable. What Jungkook couldn't accept was you casting aside your friendship with Sora for money and power.
You truly exceeded his worst expectations of you. Jungkook clenched his jaw and hands, swearing that you were his enemy from today onwards.
***
Contrary to popular belief, Sora was not an idiot. She had planned not just her life but also her death. This ensured that the living wouldn't be burdened by her passing.
Admittedly, you were involved in the preparations she made. As a lawyer, Sora sought your service to make writing her will easier. It happened three years ago:
Sora recently gave birth to a baby girl named Hanni. The child had blond hair like her father. She was too cute for her own good, so you didn't understand how Sora had the heart to think about death when she had a growing little angel by her side.
It wasn't fair to leave Hanni without a mother in this world.
"This is called safeguarding my baby's future." Sora reasoned out while writing down her 'will.' Her tongue was sticking out, and her brows were pinched together, indicating that she was serious about this ordeal.
It made you sigh.
"Okay! I've finalized the distribution of my...what do you call it again? Estate?"
"Assets." You corrected her firmly. Assets were for the living, and the estate was for the dead. You refused to associate your best friend with anything related to death. It was evident by the way your lips protruded into a sulky pout. You hated having this conversation with her.
"Asset, estate, or whatever you call it. I don't really care as long as it's done. Now, come here and notarize it. I've heard I need a witness when finalizing my will. You are my witness."
"I refuse." You turned away from Sora and busied yourself, caressing Hanni's tiny fist. "Your mum is cruel, isn't she, little one?"
Sora rolled her eyes and huffed, "It's for her sake, you know. Can't you see my situation now? I'm an orphan. My parents died when I could barely say a full sentence."
Sora always felt she inherited the curse of her parents dying young. It was unfair to disregard this thought as she was sure Hanni would be the lonely one carrying the burden once it happened.
"I'm assigning legal guardians for my child. Niccolo is number one, but I can't be too complacent." Sora released a deep breath. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing that her husband was crazy in love with her. It felt like he was willing to follow her even in death.
"Hear that, Hanni? Your mum is giving you away. Say bad, mummy, bad!" You carried Hanni into your arms while glaring at Sora. You couldn't believe your best friend traveled to Seoul with her little child just to say this bullshit.
"Stop being so dramatic," Sora lost count of how many times she had rolled her eyes. "It's not like I'm giving her to a stranger."
"Huh." You wiped Hanni's drool before casting a curious look at her mom, "Who are you naming her guardian, then? Jongsuk and Ji-eun?"
"Nope." Sora sounded disappointed. "I wanted to, but you know how busy they are with their two kids."
"Jongsuk is fucking rich. I'm sure they can afford to feed one more kid." You decided to humor Sora after realizing you couldn't change her mind.
Unfortunately, Sora deflated. "You bet. They have three more children coming."
"What the fuck?" You laid Hanni back in her crib, afraid you'd drop her after Sora dropped a bomb on you. "Are you telling me Ji-eun is pregnant again? And triplets?"
Sora's grin was wide. She wiggled her brows in excitement.
You were dumbfounded. "Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with Jongsuk!?"
Didn't Ji-eun just give birth last year!? What did Jongsuk plan on doing?
"Ah, duh? Have you seen Ji-eun? If I were Jongsuk, I'd do the same."
You pondered for a second. It didn't take you long to agree with your best friend. Damn right, Ji-eun was hot. If you didn't have the unfortunate curse of liking straight men, you bet you'd be pursuing Ji-eun relentlessly. She wasn't just a pretty face. Ji-eun was tantamount to what people called 'The Man.' Perhaps even better than the phrase.
Suddenly, you understood why a certain someone was head over heels with her.
"You're thinking about Jungkook, aren't you?"
You whipped your head up and met Sora's teasing eyes. You were about to refute her absurdity, but she beat you to it.
"Don't deny it. I know your 'I'm thinking about Jungkook' face. It's so obvious! Your brows become one, and your frown couldn't be any deeper!"
"That's right," you relaxed a little. "It's cause I hate him. I can't even crack a fake smile whenever I think about his stupid face."
Your disgusted face wasn't fooling anyone, though. But Sora didn't expose you. She just riled you up, "Well, at least his stupid face is popular with girls. Did you know? Niccolo has been setting Jungkook up with his foreign friends. Ah! Right!" The spark in her eyes was blinding.
"Jungkook has a blind date tonight. I've heard he's meeting a supermodel from Italy. She's the same—hey, hey! What are you doing!?"
Sora's eyes dilated upon seeing you gripping her baby's toy tightly. She snatched it from you and gasped, "What's gotten you so worked up? You broke Hanni's toy! This is her favorite!" And Jungkook was the one who gave the baby that toy. Sora didn't dare tell you as you might destroy it further.
You wouldn't do it, though. You actually felt guilty for letting out your inexplicable anger to the toy, "Sorry. I'd buy Hanni a new one, yeah?"
"You better!" Sora let it go and went back to drafting her will. She continued pestering you about some law jargon until your head hurt.
"Okay, okay. I'll stop now." Sora put the documents inside a brown box and handed it to you. "Here it is. My final will. I'm giving it to you for safekeeping."
"Huh," you snorted but still accepted the box. You handed Sora a similar package. "I gave you a Christmas present, and I get your will in return? Unfair."
You couldn't help but toss the brown box under your bed. You hoped there wouldn't be a time when you'd be forced to open that damn box.
Sora's eyes creased, "I'll buy you the prettiest present next time, okay?" Then she kissed your cheek, "Thanks for this lovely shirt! I love it so much."
"White suits you the most." You're like my angel, Sora. "I got mine in black so we could match."
"Cool!" Sora turned to her daughter. "You hear that, Hanni? Your Godmother wants to match with me. You need to find someone like her in the future, okay?"
Hanni giggled as if she understood her mother. It warmed your heart seeing them like this. Unfortunately, this precious moment would soon be taken away from them.
Come to think of it, everything that transpired three years ago was like a sick premonition of what would happen tonight. Wasn't it funny? Sora died wearing the clothes you'd gifted her, and now here you were, forced to open the brown box you hated with passion.
Sora prepared everything. Inside the box were her will and handwritten letters for her daughter and friends. Unsurprisingly, she didn't leave a note for Niccolo.
It's like Sora knew.
"I hate you," you whimpered lowly as you hugged Sora's letter. I hate you for leaving me. I hate you for being right. I hate you. I hate you so much, Kang Sora.
***
Since Sora was an orphan, Taehyung, as her friend, was qualified to make the arrangements for her and her husband's remains. This was also because he was the one who registered their death after Doctor Kim Seokjin announced the time of their passing.
Jungkook wanted to help Taehyung out, but Taehyung said he could handle it himself and that it would be better for Jungkook to care for Hanni instead.
Hanni was at home with her temporary babysitter. Niccolo was a chef at his restaurant, while Sora was the head manager there. They usually didn't have enough time to care for Hanni, so they hired a nighttime caregiver for their kid. Hanni attended daycare in the morning, which was one less worry for her parents.
The babysitter's shift ended a few hours ago, though. Jungkook had no choice but to rush to the Kang' residence.
Jungkook had an apology ready at the tip of his tongue and thousands of won to appease the babysitter for working overtime. He was surprised when he didn't see the cute babysitter and instead saw a temptress wearing a suit.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook spat as he raised his guard up. Who else could he be talking to besides you? You were the only person who could annoy him until steam came off his ears.
Weren't you just at the police station? Jungkook quickly glanced at his wristwatch. The time was 10:15pm. You arrived to wreak havoc in the interrogation room at around 9:00pm. Were you that good of a lawyer to escape Captain Yoongi's inquest in just an hour?
Looking at you, it seemed you had been here for quite some time now. Hanni happily snuggled in your arms while sucking on her milk bottle. The baby looked sleepy, unaware that her parents had already crossed the afterlife road.
Jungkook felt his heart tighten. Did you go here to use Hanni as leverage to help free those damned murderers? Thinking about your menacing schemes, Jungkook couldn't help but raise his hand to snatch Hanni away from your embrace.
"Let go of Hanni now!" Jungkook gnashed his teeth, deliberating on calling the police on you, but then he remembered he was also a police officer. Right. If he wanted to, he could arrest you for using an innocent kid to your advantage.
"Will you stop being so dramatic?" you recognized Jungkook's intention, so you rolled your eyes at his stupidity. You also laid Hanni back inside her crib but didn't do it to appease Jungkook. It was because your arms were starting to get numb from carrying her—not to mention that your chest was covered in Hanni's spilled milk, too.
Jungkook's line of sight focused on your chest, not knowing what to make out of it as you gently wipe the milk with your bare hand.
You pretended not to see him swallowing thickly and struggling to look away from you. "Relax, will you? Your tiny brain might not comprehend it, but I'm telling you now. I am not here to harm Hanni. I'm her godparent, after all—just like you."
Your busy work schedule did not allow you to see Hanni all the time, but Sora made sure to video call you whenever she had the chance. Frankly speaking, seeing your goddaughter after a tiring day calmed you down. Hanni was your sweet butterfly. You loved her to death.
"And for the record, I am not representing Gabi and Falco in court."
Your sharp tone made Jungkook stop. His intense gaze studied you. This time, your face wasn't devoid of emotions. He could see fire in your eyes—as if you were ready to burn anyone who dared oppose you.
"T-Then," Jungkook's Adam's apple bobbed, "Why'd you destroy my evidence?" It took him hours to force confessions out of those bastards. He doubted that was enough as Falco and Gabi kept protecting each other, but still...
"How are you even a police lieutenant? Did Chief Kim bump his head before promoting you?"
Jungkook was offended and wanted to argue, but you gave him no chance.
"The evidence you've gathered is inadmissible to court. It's fucking illegal, idiot. Those brats could've filed a case against you if I hadn't destroyed the evidence of your idiocy."
Simply put, you had protected Jungkook from incrimination. "What happened to the Jungkook I know? Didn't you always hate Jongsuk Lee for being a suicidal maniac?"
The Idiot Quartet was good friends with Jongsuk and Ji-eun, too. You had known them since childhood. If your group was called the Idiot Quartet, then Ji-eun, Jongsuk, and Jimin were known as the Powerhouse Trio. The three were good in academics and sports, but Jongsuk fell short of a good attitude. Jongsuk was ridiculously impatient that he would not hesitate to charge recklessly, even at the expense of his life. Jongsuk was a police officer like Jungkook. It was just that Chief Namjoon Kim assigned Jongsuk to the special operation squad.
Jongsuk was a sore spot for Jungkook as it seemed like whatever Jungkook wanted, Jongsuk had.
Truth be told, Jungkook scoffed at the mention of Jongsuk's name. He glared at you, "I'm nothing like that suicidal maniac. Don't compare me to him."
You shrugged and did not push it. Fighting Jungkook tonight was not worthy of your time. There was a more pressing issue to discuss.
"Anyway, I'm not involved with Gabi and Falco anymore. You can rest assured."
Jungkook didn't want to fight you either. He was tired. He only wanted to honor his dead best friend. "It's good that you didn't completely stray the wrong path."
Surprisingly, the seed of hatred Jungkook planted in his heart had been dug up at the speed of light. You see, he wasn't muddle-headed like you claimed. Jungkook got irritated by your mere presence and sharp mouth, but hating someone without apparent reason was beyond him.
Maybe he could trust you? Thinking about this, Jungkook tried to push his luck, "So, if you aren't going to be those brats' lawyer, does it mean you came here to represent Sora and Niccolo?"
You just said you did not want to fight him, but on God, was he testing your patience. It took everything in you not to mock him, "I am a defense lawyer, smart-ass. This is a criminal case; it's those brats against the general public. Sora and Niccolo must be represented by a prosecutor. I trust you know the difference between a pro—"
"I know! I get it already. Stop it." Jungkook's cheeks turned crimson when he realized his mistake. His brain must have short-circuited because of the awkwardness and the milk on your chest—damn it, there was still traces of milk in your cleavage.
Jungkook forced himself to look away, making the corner of your lips turn up.
"It's Ji-eun." You said abruptly and without context. Jungkook looked at you, confused.
You sighed, "Ji-eun is a prosecutor, which I'm guessing you're very familiar with."
Of course, Jungkook knew precisely what Ji-eun did for a living. It was the main reason Jungkook fell in love with Ji-eun—he thought she was cool for upholding justice.
Jungkook had this illusion that he and Ji-eun complemented each other, mainly because both their line of work involved helping ordinary people. It was the complete opposite of what you do. In Jungkook's vocabulary, you were a scum—defending criminals who ruined the balance of the world.
"I called Ji-eun earlier. She agreed, but we have yet to discuss the details. The legalities of the case can be postponed for now. There's something urgent we need to address first." Jungkook recognized the seriousness in your tone. He furrowed a brow and listened to you intently.
"Sora named me as the executor of her will." Your face turned solemn, side glancing at Hanni, who was sound asleep. Your heart ached for her. "She has written notes to everyone, including us."
Jungkook watched you pick up a brown box on the floor. That's when he noticed the suitcase next to it.
Wait—Jungkook's eyes shrunk. Is that your suitcase?
His question was soon answered when you handed Sora's letter to him. Jungkook immediately tore it open, skimming through its contents.
His eyes widened comically upon reading the most ridiculous request of all times:
Sora was leaving Hanni in your and Jungkook's care.
What the fuck.
***
Taehyung felt floating as he took the way to Sora's house. It was past ten in the evening, meaning it took him hours to arrange Sora and Niccolo's funeral.
He was physically exhausted from having to go from place to place. Fortunately, he had a bit of time to rest since Sora and Niccolo's bodies were still at the mortuary. Taehyung thought he'd check up on Hanni first, then ask Jungkook to tidy the Kang' residence to make it a decent place to hold the wake. Sadly, Taehyung's plans went haywire as soon as he stepped inside the house.
"Oh, yeah? Why don't you tell that to yourself, you mama's boy!? I'm not the one who has an Oedipus complex!"
Taehyung watched as Jungkook's complexion turned red because of anger. He rolled the sleeves of his police uniform, seemingly ready to fight you.
"Well, fuck you and your mommy issues. Just admit you're jealous I have a kind mom. It's not my fault your mom only loves you whenever you achieve something that will boost her ego!"
Violence was never the answer, but you couldn't help but pick up one of Hanni's toys and throw it at Jungkook's broad chest. You screamed at him, "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" He was hitting you where it hurt.
"No, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Jungkook threw the question back at you. You were the one who pissed him off first.
Sadly, Taehyung did not care whose fault it was. He just wanted this petty fight to end, so he screamed before you or Jungkook started going at each other again.
"What the hell is happening here?" Taehyung was the type of friend who goofed around a lot, though no one could deny he was the most scary when angered. Just the sound of his voice was enough to stain your and Jungkook's back with cold sweat. Almost at once, Jungkook kept his mouth shut.
Conversely, you smiled awkwardly at Taehyung and acted oblivious, "Hi, Taehyung. Didn't see you there."
Jungkook held back a scoff at how fast you changed your annoying tone to a saccharine one. Your eyes even crinkled with fondness. Damn it. You were such a great pretender! Weren't you just acting like a dragon and breathing fire in Jungkook's direction? Taehyung saw it, too, preventing you from escaping this mess.
"How can you see me when you're busy fighting Jungkook again?" Taehyung huffed and shook his head in disappointment, "You two never changed, do you? To think of fighting in the presence of your dead best friend's kid. Have you no shame?"
As said, it was common knowledge not to anger Taehyung, yet no one warned you how scary he was when he couldn't bring himself to be angry anymore. Right now, Taehyung was just tired of your bullshit.
Remorse seeped into your heart. Truth be told, you knew where Taehyung was coming from. You and Jungkook were both adults, yet you failed to act like one. You didn't even know how your fight started. All you remembered was Jungkook vehemently opposing Sora's decision to leave Hanni to you and his care.
He thought you were undeserving of looking after a small child. You got mad, saying he had high expectations for female guardians because of his weird relationship with his mother.
Of course, it wasn't true. But you were so pissed you couldn't stop spouting nonsense. Truthfully, you could have gone forever with your insults had it not been for Taehyung's arrival.
"Don't take it seriously, Taehyung. We're just fooling around to cheer up Hanni. We thought some loud noises would divert her attention to something else." Jungkook added unhelpfully.
Taehyung pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at Hanni, who was sleeping peacefully: "...."
"Haha," You laughed in embarrassment and were forced to playfully smack Jungkook's biceps. "See? Our loudness helped Hanni sleep. Didn't Sora always sing her a goodnight song? We did it too!"
"Yes!" Jungkook gathered some files on the floor. The both of you had thrown them in the midst of fighting. The Kang' residence was a mess because of you two's silliness.
"Anyway, didn't you say the wake will be held here? Why don't you rest first? We'll take it from here. Right, Jungkook?"
Taehyung watched the two of you for a while before resigning to the guest room. He heard your whispered sighs but didn't mind as you quickly resolved it with a temporary truce.
Taehyung sighed and looked at the white ceiling. The tears he had repressed all night finally cascaded down his cheeks.
He sobbed quietly and thought about the dead, "You really have idiots as your best friends, Sora."
***
Sora and Niccolo's wake would be held for one day only. Tomorrow was the scheduled funeral, so all the departed's friends gathered at the Kang' residence for the final goodbye. You and Jungkook behaved this time—your temporary truce helped you welcome the guests without hiccups.
Ji-eun and Jongsuk arrived in the morning with their five children. It was a blessing in disguise, really. Jongsuk took care of the kids, including Hanni, while you and Ji-eun discussed the legalities of the case filed against Gabi and Falco. Captain Yoongi joined the discussion, too.
Yoongi lived in your neighborhood as well. He used to teach kids your age some self-defense tricks. He was specifically fond of Sora as she made unconventional defenses easier to execute. Looking back, you realize Sora was the glue holding the group together. There were moments you couldn't tolerate the extremity of Captain Yoongi's training, but Sora persuaded you and the others to be more patient and courageous.
"Thanks for doing this, Captain." You smiled softly at Yoongi. He merely raised a brow, drank his tea, and said, "Not a problem. This isn't a formal discussion."
The Captain didn't want to disrespect the solemnity of the wake, so he invited you and Ji-eun to talk in his office after the funeral. He only joined today's talk to say some urgent matters.
"I thought you should know beforehand that we have a strong case, mainly because the incident was captured by cameras. However, we have a formidable opponent. Annie Leonhart is defending those brats in court."
Your stomach knotted with bitterness upon hearing that. Annie Leonhart was indeed a formidable lawyer. However, you couldn't deny that your heart felt at ease when you met Ji-eun's unyielding gaze. Yes, you couldn't forget that this prosecutor never lost a case. She would do Sora justice.
It wouldn't be too difficult as long as dumb people didn't interfere.
Jungkook. Your brain immediately thought of Jungkook as he was the only one you could associate with the word dumb.
Just like now, Jungkook was standing in the corner of the room while staring at your group dumbly—scratch that, it was obvious he had his puppy eyes focused on Ji-eun.
You rolled your eyes. Of fucking course. How could you forget that this dumbass was in love with Prosecutor Lee? Did the fact that she was already married ever stop Jungkook from pining after Ji-eun? No.
"Attorney, Captain, will you excuse me for a moment?" You gritted your teeth while your gaze was still trained on Jungkook. The two Mins did not hold you back, making it easier for you to instantly trudge over Jungkook's direction.
"Hey, loser. I wanted to quote Article 333 of the family code for you, but then I remembered Ji-eun will never commit adultery, more so if it's with your sorry ass." You smirked at Jungkook, rage still boiling within you.
You were not the only one annoyed, though. Jungkook looked at you in disbelief; his eyebrows pinched together as he huffed, "What is it this time? I'm not doing anything!"
"You're not fooling anyone here, asshole. Don't think for a moment that I don't see you looking pathetically at Mrs. Lee."
"The heck are you on?"
"That you're in love with Ji-eun? That's the only reason why you're looking in our direction." You rolled your eyes, looking smug. "Unless you had a change of heart and are now pining after Captain Yoongi—which I'm not opposed to, by the way. I'm all for gay rights. You might be too late, though. I think he's a little too in love with your Chief Police Kim."
You shook your head in pity for Jungkook. Ji-eun and Yoongi were cousins. Why did Jungkook seem to only like Mins, who were already in love with someone else?
"Will you shut up?" Jungkook's jaw ticked. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He looked panicked.
You snickered, "Oh, no. Is Jungkook-boy shy—"
"I'm looking at you, damn it!" Jungkook seized your wrist and pulled you closer to him. From the outside's point of view, it looked like Jungkook was some gang leader bullying a helpless girl. But that's the thing. Only his looks were imposing—Jungkook's grey suit perfectly hugged his toned body. His hairstyle drastically changed since your teenage years, too. Per the police officer standard, Jungkook was now sporting an undercut that made his jaw look more chiseled. His aura was intimidating, but only you knew how gently he had pulled you close to his body.
Jungkook whispered into your ears, "I'm worried, alright? I need your help. Can you see those two women sitting by the window? They've been here since morning, and they're watching you and me—us. I don't seem to recall their faces. Sora and Niccolo were not related to them in any way either."
Jungkook had met the people around the married couple. He knew even the customers in Sora and Niccolo's restaurant. This was the first time Jungkook was seeing these women.
You were alerted, too. It was uncommon for strangers to attend the departed's wake, so these two women could either be from Falco and Gabi's side or...
Your eyes widened at the sudden realization. Unfortunately, before you could warn Jungkook, the two ladies had already noticed your gaze and immediately walked in your direction.
"Hi there. My name is Frieda, and this is my coworker, Ms. Kiyomi. We're social workers assigned by the local government to check on orphans."
"It's nice to meet you." Thankfully, you had no problems switching gears. Being a lawyer taught you to fake pleasantries despite shaking on the inside. As expected, these two women were social workers here to see Hanni's condition. Regrettably, you had failed to discuss this earlier with Jungkook.
"I know this is not the best time to visit, but we're just concerned about the little girl. Hanni, that's her name, right?" Kiyomi was an old woman who appeared strict and conservative. Her smile made your eyes twitch. "I take it you're the host of this wake. Do you mind sharing with us if Mr. Niccolo and his wife assigned a legal guardian for Hanni?"
"Legal guardians, actually." You mirrored Kiyomi's smile. "I'm the family's lawyer and Sora's childhood best friend. She has left her notarized will with me. I can send you both the hard and soft copy any time."
"That's good to hear," Frieda answered, "But right now, we want to personally meet the assigned guardians. Where is Hanni, by the way?"
"Hanni is sleeping in her room with SWAT officer Lee's children, right, babe?"
"Huh?" Jungkook asked dumbly when he felt your hand encircling his biceps. To say he was shocked by your term of endearment would be an understatement because what the fuck? Did you just call him babe?
"A little absentminded, are we?" You chuckled awkwardly and pinched Jungkook's biceps 'lovingly' Damn, was he ripped. "Forgive my fiancé, lovely ladies. He's just a bit tired after pulling an all-nighter to arrange our best friends' wake and trying to pacify little Hanni."
"Oh," Kiyomi's eyes lit up. "You're the assigned guardians, I suppose?"
"Yes, we are." You felt Jungkook stiffen when you leaned your head onto his biceps. You originally wanted to lean on his shoulder, but he was too tall. You guessed it didn't matter as long as you had skin contact with Jungkook.
Kiyomi didn't seem to be convinced, though. Her keen eyes wandered over yours and Jungkook's empty ring fingers.
"Ah!" You grabbed Jungkook's left hand and intertwined your fingers with his. "We removed our engagement rings for now. You know, Hanni's at the age where she just likes sucking onto everything. You can't have a kid swallowing a diamond, can you?"
The two women laughed at your lame joke. Meanwhile, Jungkook's face still couldn't be painted. Every part of his being urged him to push you away, but he had a hunch that would be unwise.
Jungkook looked at the two ladies before side-eyeing you. He felt like losing to a sick game, which didn't sit well with him. Jungkook hated it when you were one step ahead, so he played your game despite not knowing the rules.
He grabbed your interlaced fingers and kissed them. "Don't worry, hon. The ring is just for aesthetic purposes. I am still yours without it."
"Oh, my. What a lovely couple!" Kiyomi finally fell into your gimmick. She rubbed her chest as if what she saw warmed her heart, "It's getting late. People are coming, why don't you go and welcome them? Frieda and I are just leaving."
You calmed your beating heart before answering the old lady, "Don't you wanna see Hanni first?"
Frieda and Kiyomi fell silent and seemed to be hesitant. Hearing SWAT officer Lee's name actually scared them. They were afraid of offending Jongsuk. Kids were especially fussy when their nap was disturbed, yes?
"No need. We have already imposed too much. Why don't we schedule a meeting after the funeral?" Frieda raised her brow.
"Sounds lovely. Wait a second. We'll give you our contact information."
The two social workers finally left after exchanging contact details and a few more pleasantries. Your hand was still enveloped by Jungkook's big, warm hand. He took this as an opportunity to lightly drag you into an empty room.
"What the hell just happened there?" For someone who's confused, Jungkook sure enjoyed holding your hand. His grip tightened when you laughed mockingly.
"You called me hon—cringe, by the way—but you can't grasp what happened there? Are you for real?"
"Just answer the damn question!" Jungkook's ears were red. He swore he wasn't stupid. You were just making him appear to be like that. "And as if you're any better. Calling me babe, really? And fiancé? Who the hell wants to marry you!?"
"Let go!" You wriggled out of his grasp, yet Jungkook did not let you go. He pulled you close to him and stared at you intently.
"No." Jungkook jutted his chin. "Not unless you explain what that was all about."
Looking at Jungkook's eyes made you shudder. You knew him. He was stubborn. Seeing the determination in his eyes, you realized it was wise not to tease him any further. Jungkook was many things, but he never joked about romantic feelings. Call it old school, but he already regretted playing your game. How could he forget how much of a menace you were?
"I'm not making fun of you, alright? I had to pretend we're lovers, for Hanni's sake." You explained to Jungkook that most social workers were vicious when doing their jobs. Kiyomi was an old lady. Of course, she'd prefer to see Hanni with a loving and complete family as her guardians. She had the power to manipulate the judge's decision. You were afraid she would suggest assigning Hanni to strangers who could give her an illusion of a 'happy family.'
"So are you saying we have to pretend we're dating in front of those social workers?" Jungkook wasn't unreasonable. He was willing to hear your ridiculous idea if this meant keeping Hanni in a safe space.
"Well," you sighed in lament. "Not just in front of the social workers, unfortunately. Kiyomi and Frieda might interview anyone in our circle. It will be bad if they find out we're lying, worse, that we hate each other."
"I don't hate you, though." Jungkook's response was immediate. He creased his forehead as if not understanding what you said. "But I find you extremely annoying."
"The feeling is mutual." You exerted all your energy to wriggle out of his grasp.
Jungkook smirked and thought of getting back at you for getting him all flustered before those social workers, "Eh? Are you getting sick of my touch already? Careful. We might have to do more than hold hands to convince people we're to be married."
"You are so..." You trailed off because of irritation. "Irrational and a hypocrite! Don't you hate faking romantic things with me?" And aren't you in love with Ji-eun?
Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly; a smirk was still plastered on his lips. "I adapt fast. I can tolerate your annoying face, for Hanni's sake."
He pinched your cheek.
You slapped his hand away and squared your shoulders. Damn you, Jungkook Jeon.
"Bring it on, then."
***
Bullshit.
Your claim against Jungkook to 'bring it on" was complete and utter bullshit. Not only was it difficult, but it was also unrealistic and close to being impossible. Truthfully, you two did not feel it at once, mainly because you were busy with the funeral and had your other friends help you with Hanni.
Now, however...
"Terni, I'm sorry," Hanni's bright eyes glistened with tears as she stared at you. She was only three, but surprisingly, she could already pronounce words clearly—except maybe the word attorney.
Sora told her daughter to call you 'Attorney' so the little one could brag to people about having a cool godmother who was a lawyer. Hanni was an intelligent child. Admittedly, you suspected she could actually pronounce the word attorney correctly. She simply preferred calling you Terni as it was cuter and perhaps because it was easier to escape your wrath.
Hanni accidentally spilled a full glass of her favorite chocolate drink on your work documents. These were all related to the cases you told your secretary to cancel when you found out Sora died. Unfortunately, your words held no weight as you still needed to take on these cases—whether you wanted to or not. Besides, your mourning period was coming to an end. Sora and Niccolo had found their resting place already. Your only worry was Hanni and your pending cases.
"It's okay, darling." The side of your upper lip twitched while you threw the files in the trash bin. You kept reminding yourself that lashing out at a three-year-old kid was unreasonable.
'But it's not unreasonable to displace your anger to a certain police lieutenant.' The voice inside your head supplied. You smirked, feeling enlightened. Obviously, you were going to listen to the voice. Every chance you got to annoy Jungkook was gold.
"Why don't I put you in your crib first? Terni will just talk to Jungkook-boy, okay?"
Because she knew she was at fault here, Hanni nodded and let you carry her back to her room. The Kang' residence was quite big. You, Hanni, and Jungkook each had your own rooms. The master bedroom remained untouched, though. You didn't have the heart to invade the late couple's personal space. Besides, you were only temporarily residing here. This was not your house, and Hanni was not your child—you weren't even fully recognized by the court as Hanni's guardian. This could all be taken away from you sooner or later.
It was better not to get attached and keep things as they were. Taking this into consideration, you went to the kitchen to annoy Jungkook. Unfortunately, you were only able to say a few words before your face and mind blanked out. Clearly, no one prepared you on how to react seeing Jungkook buzzing around the kitchen while washing dishes—the same dishes you and Hanni used for breakfast this morning.
Jungkook wore washing gloves; soap suds painted his left cheek while pots and plates surrounded him.
"What'd you say again?" Jungkook spared you a glance, washing the mug you used for coffee earlier.
You swallowed thickly and forced your eyes away from the dishes. You originally wanted to chastise him for slacking off and not bringing Hanni to the daycare center on time. If Hanni was at the daycare, then your files wouldn't get soaked up in a chocolate drink in the first place. You couldn't blame him now, could you? Not when he was busy cleaning the kitchen after preparing breakfast for you and Hanni.
In your defense, you did not ask him to cook for you, too. You woke up with the smell of pancakes, bacon, and eggs wafting inside your room. Of course, you got up to scold him for not turning on the exhaust hood.
"You're awake?" You remembered Jungkook raising a brow upon seeing you. Hanni was already sitting on her high chair; her mouth was watering because of how good her breakfast smelled. "Come on, join us for breakfast."
You swallowed the insults at the tip of your tongue as Jungkook placed two big plates and a small one on the table.
"I don't eat breakfast," you said indifferently. It was true. When you reach your office, your secretary will have a cup of macadamia-flavored coffee ready. That was the only thing you had for breakfast. It had probably been years since you'd eaten anything solid during the morning.
Jungkook seemed to misunderstand your response, though. He thought you just didn't like to eat what he cooked. He taunted you, "There's no poison here, Empress. Your lowly male concubines have tasted the food for you."
To demonstrate, Jungkook swallowed a spoonful of bacon and pancakes.
"You're mistaken. You are no concubine of mine." You sneered but took a seat to eat. "You're merely my eunuch."
Teenager Jungkook would have turned red-faced and just cussed you out, but he grew up, and those blind dates with countless supermodels had improved his confidence. Jungkook pressed his hand on the table and peered down at you. His broad chest was inches away from your face.
"Now, that would be misleading, Empress. Can a eunuch have this?" He didn't use words, merely gesturing toward himself, particularly on the lower portion of his body.
The teenager you would have turned pissed and just cussed Jungkook out, but despite maturing into an adult woman, you still couldn't handle jokes like this, causing your face to turn scarlet.
Jungkook chuckled at your reaction but didn't push you anymore. He liked pressing your buttons, though not to the point of making you uncomfortable. He was not an ass.
"Let's just eat, alright?"
Jungkook happily agreed and put some food on your plate. You merely glanced at it before playing it cool by opening up another topic, "It's your turn to send Hanni to daycare today, right? Her class is at 7am. Her teacher said she could go back to class but is welcome to extend her break."
Hanni's parents just died, after all. Besides, it wasn't a formal school. The daycare was established as a consideration for children who had working parents.
"Yes, I'll bathe her today. too, then we'll go to the center after." Jungkook smeared maple syrup on Hanni's pancakes. He had added finely cut grapes on top of it as he was afraid Hanni would choke on the circled fruit.
"Good. I'll finish some work today," you said as a form of respect.
You and Jungkook decided to co-parent Hanni and see if you could commit to it. Jungkook was assigned to take care of Hanni from Monday to Wednesday. Meanwhile, your schedule was from Thursday to Saturday. This included sending Hanni to school, feeding, bathing, and playing with her. Sunday was your only free day, as Hanni would be in the care of your friends. Captain Yoongi and Chief Namjoon said they'd bring Hanni out to play this Sunday.
It was a relief, really. You need to go back to Seoul this Sunday to finish some work and formally announce to your subordinates and clients that you will be moving to Busan for the time being. Your schedule this week was jampacked. Fortunately, Kiyomi and Frieda postponed the meeting and said they would inform you at their earliest convenience. As it turned out, those social workers weren't utterly heartless as they intended to give you and Jungkook a breather until the settlement of Sora and Niccolo's case.
Right. That was another concern of yours. You turned to Jungkook, "What time is your lunch break? I'm meeting up with Prosecutor Lee and Captain Yoongi this afternoon. Wanna join us?"
You and Jungkook played well when you were teaming up instead of being rivals. He shook his head in lament, "I can't. I have to finish some work at the station too. Just fill me in with the details later."
"Alright." You continued eating after that. Surprisingly, the breakfast with Hanni and Jungkook went well. Your morning would have been perfect hadn't been for Hanni messing up your files—which led you back to staring dumbly at Jungkook, who was still busy cleaning up the kitchen.
It was past seven in the morning. You were busy working and weren't able to track time. "Didn't you say you would send Hanni to daycare today? Why haven't you?"
"Oh." Jungkook scratched the back of his head. "I called the teacher and informed her that Hanni isn't coming today." Jungkook let Hanni walk around the house and find you. He guessed it was his fault for having too much confidence in a three-year-old kid. Of course, giving Hanni a chocolate drink wasn't a guarantee that she would be able to tell you she wasn't going to school today. Jungkook was too much of a pussy to tell you himself. He knew how you were when working. You would breathe fire at him for disturbing you.
"Why, though?" You puffed out air, "We can't keep doing this, you know? Hanni needs to socialize with other people." It wasn't that you wanted Hanni to forget her parents, but lately, Hanni had been asking where her mum and dad went. You and Jungkook hadn't discussed a healthy way to go over such a sensitive topic. Besides, you and Jungkook were working adults who needed time to do their jobs. You couldn't spend all day looking after Hanni.
"I know, but she sneezed twice this morning. It's already so cold outside. What if she catches the flu?"
"Oh, my gosh, you overprotective dumbass." You rolled your eyes at Jungkook, but the latter shrugged it off. You could call him whatever you wanted. However, he couldn't risk his goddaughter getting sick.
"I'll go to work in a while and drop by Hanni's doctor after my shift. I'll inquire about her medical records and see if we can get her a flu vaccine. Don't worry," Jungkook's eyes were thoughtful. "It's Monday, so I'll take care of everything myself. You can go to work today. I'll just text you if something comes up."
The day wasn't even halfway done, but you found yourself agreeing to Jungkook without a need for a fight. This was new, and you found it surprisingly refreshing.
"Fine." You acquiesced as the urge to blame him for your soaked files disappeared. Maybe you were wrong—maybe, just maybe, co-parenting Hanni with Jungkook wasn't as bad as you imagined.
***
Your afternoon turned out to be hectic, so the meeting with the two Mins was pushed to 3pm. Captain Yoongi invited you to a tea shop as it was quieter there.
"I personally think we have no shot in filing a murder case against those brats." Chamomile tea wasn't enough to calm you down as you looked at the crime pictures again.
Sora was sprawled on the cold ground; the pool of blood made you wanna puke. It didn't help that Ji-eun was drinking a strawberry-flavored tea.
"You're right. Given the elements of a murder, two are not present. Mens rea and actus rus," Ji-eun voiced out the legal terms. According to Captain Yoongi, Gabi and Falco gave consistent explanations during the interrogation. It was similar to what they told your secretary.
The teens did not intend to kill Sora and her husband. They were merely trying throttle therapy, which, unfortunately, went wrong.
Falco said he switched lanes to avoid crashing into a car maneuvering into a U-turn. It just happened that Sora and Niccolo were crossing the street before Falco could step on the break.
"I think that's what Jungkook did when he forced confessions from the brats. He wanted them to admit to murdering Sora and Niccolo so they could get the maximum penalty. However, I can tell it was an accident. We can only file for reckless imprudence resulting in multiple homicides." Captain Yoongi held his cup tightly, an indication that he was angry at what happened but couldn't do anything about it.
"That's my plan, but I think Annie Leonhart will reduce her clients' charges to manslaughter."
Manslaughter? Yoongi's brow creased. He wasn't a lawyer, so naturally, he couldn't immediately follow the logic behind the prosecutor's words.
You explained it to him, "It means Annie is a bitch, Captain. Based on my assumption, I bet she'll fake some medical records and say Falco took some kind of drug to help with his mental health issues." She would make it appear that Falco was unaware the drug given to him could cause hallucinations, confusion, and probably a loss of energy. "Or she'll have the clients' families pay a random person to confess tampering with Falco's car, hence the break not working. Either way, Attorney Leonhart will find a scapegoat and make it appear that what Gabi and Falco did was unintentional."
"You're so familiar with these tactics, aren't you?" Yoongi knitted his brow. In return, you tilted your head to the side as if to show a 'what can I say' attitude. The Captain was not wrong. You were also familiar with the techniques you mentioned because you were a defense lawyer.
Ji-eun wasn't bothered. She figured out the logic behind your tactics. She clasped her hands and said, "Captain Yoongi called me on the day of the incident. I've sent some people to subject Falco and Gabi to medical examinations. No need to fret. The results will show if they've taken any drugs. There were two more independent examiners, so they can't accuse us of faking the results."
Good. Your shoulders relaxed upon hearing that. Ji-eun continued, "We must pay attention to the other excuse Annie might choose." Prosecutor Lee emphasized how affluent the Braun and Grice families were. It would be easy for them to fake 'dispute' with people, forcing them to tamper with the car Falco drove. "Captain, my cousin-in-law is good friends with this case's judge, correct? I need your help with evidence submitted before the trial. I need time to study the witnesses, too."
"Cousin-in-law?" Ji-eun said many things, but this was the only thing Yoongi grasped. The Captain was not married yet. Who could Ji-eun be referring to as her cousin-in-law?
"Chief Police Namjoon Kim." Prosecutor Lee said with a face vacant of any emotions that even the hard-to-faze Yoongi almost spit his tea. You laughed heartily. Oh, men and their poor attempt to conceal their feelings. It was hilarious when boys fell in love. They looked like idiots who seemed to forget how to navigate life.
"Namjoon is not your cousin-in-law...yet," Yoongi cleared his throat. "But yes, he will be...helping you with anything you need with the case. Just send either one of us a text or go to our house. Make sure to bring Rin when you visit."
Rin was Ji-eun and Jongsuk's eldest son and Yoongi's favorite. He spoiled that kid rotten. You adored that kid, too. Admittedly, your topic switched to the Lee kids, and you also took this time to ask Ji-eun for tips on caring for a small child.
The sun had already set by the time your meeting ended. A fond smile was still plastered on your lips long after the Ji-eun and Yoongi left, but it didn't take long for your smile to disappear once you heard your phone buzz.
Someone had sent you a message. The number wasn't saved in your contacts, but the previous messages gave you a clue about who it was.
Unknown number:
Seoul is colder now that you're not here. I miss you.
You stared at the message for some time, then sighed as if accepting defeat. You scrolled through your contacts and called the one named 'Eunuch Jungkook.'
"What can I do for you, Empress?" Jungkook answered after two rings. His tone carried some teasing, which eased your heart a little.
"Something came up. I'm going back to Seoul tonight. My secretary said she needs help—"
"Alright," Jungkook responded softly before you could finish your excuse. You did not need to explain to him. Jungkook understood your line of work. He couldn't hold it against you. Besides, it's Monday. He could care for Hanni himself. "Just text me when you'll be back. And don't you dare forget to bring back some monjayaki for me and Hanni!"
"Fine, fine." You rolled your eyes, feigning irritation. "I'll see you soon."
"Good. Take care." Jungkook had you talk to Hanni for a few minutes before hanging up. After that, you booked a car to drive you back to Seoul. This was better than a subway. After all, you need to conserve energy to talk to that one person.
You sighed. This would definitely be a long night...
***
Mina bombarded you with workloads the second you stepped foot in your office in Seoul.
"I'm sorry, Attorney." Mina was apologetic when she handed you the documents. "You need to attend to one more hearing tomorrow."
"Another business dispute?" You looked at your secretary in disbelief. Seriously? All the cases you have been handling these past couple of days were related to businesses dealing with trademark infringement and violating the labor code. It was a surprise that these business owners still trusted you. Admittedly, you thought most of your clients would withdraw now that you didn't have the support of the Braun and Grice families.
"Yes, your client refused to settle as they did not want to pay the amount demanded by the other party."
You scoffed. Those greedy assholes. They had the nerve to ignore the labor law but couldn't face the consequences of their actions?
"Tell my client I'm meeting them in an hour. Either that or they can go find another lawyer." You would 'persuade' them to settle out of court today as you couldn't attend tomorrow's hearing. You were in a hurry to return to Busan since it was already Sunday. Jungkook had been caring for Hanni the whole week, which made you feel guilty. Jungkook had another role he needed to fulfill aside from being Hanni's guardian. What kind of person were you if you kept on holding him back?
Besides, there was still another person you must meet today. Thankfully, you were able to convince your client to settle, although you were not proud of the method you used to persuade them. Eh. You guessed it didn't matter because you finally told Jungkook you were heading back to Busan tonight.
"Who're you texting?" The last person you met tonight was him—him, as in the one who claimed to 'miss you' but whose number was still unregistered to your phone.
"Work," you replied indifferently before switching off your phone. You will read Jungkook's message later. For now, you had to deal with this annoying bastard.
"You'll go back to Busan tonight?" He sounded unhappy. Rico Braun had always been like this—too clingy—too whiny. You'd think he was obsessed with you if you didn't know any better. But that's the thing. You were aware of what kind of guy he was. He liked having a successful woman by his side, someone he could brag to his family and friends. You fit his criteria well—a beautiful woman who worked hard for a better life. It was a bonus that the Braun family liked you for Rico, too.
"I already told you," you pushed Rico's hand that was about to encircle your waist. "I'll be staying in Busan for a while. I only went back here to finish some work and to say some things to you."
Rico's eyes sparkled in anticipation. He claimed to be wise, but he couldn't even detect the coldness in your tone. You did not want him. "I've said this before, and I'm saying this again: whatever romantic idea you have about the two of us will never manifest. I can't be your girlfriend, okay?"
Rico wanted to argue, but you cut him off.
"It's not an invitation for you to ask me to be your wife. I don't like you anymore, Rico." Sometimes, being honest was the only way to save your future self from more trouble. Rico had been bugging you since your college days. There was one time you considered dating him—thinking it was for the better—that a ruthless lawyer like you was perfect for a narcissistic boy like him.
"This is also the last time I'm meeting with you. From now on, do not bother me. Your family is not connected with me anymore, either. They probably hate me." Rico was Gabi's older brother. How this person still had the audacity to meet you after what his sibling did to your best friend was beyond you. "Are we clear on this matter?"
Rico's face was impassive, acting as if the news you dropped did not concern him. He crinkled his eyes, "Well, then. It's getting late. I can't have you take the train at this hour, right? Come. I'll drive you to Busan."
"No need." You were about to walk away, but Rico seized your wrist.
His lips twitched. "I insist. Please? For old time's sake."
There was no winning when it came to this blockhead. You relented when he promised this would be the last time he'd ask to drive you. He said he was going back to the U.S. next week, anyway.
The drive back to Busan was fortunately short. Rico drove safely and did not insist on talking while on the road. You imagined being friends with him after what happened with Sora, but you just couldn't do it.
You and Rico had a fair share of understanding each other before, though all those memories were now buried deep in your heart. You did not want anything to do with them anymore.
"Thanks for the ride." You hopped off Rico's car the second it stopped in front of the Kang' residence. You felt nauseated and couldn't help but feel guilty that someone related to Sora's murderer was here. You used to think guilt by association was nonsensical, but now you understand it was a way to ease an angry person's pain.
"You're welcome." Rico rolled down the window and smiled at you. "Have a good night."
You immediately went inside the house after that short exchange. You and Jungkook both had duplicates of the key's door, so you got inside without calling Jungkook.
It was already late, so Hanni was most likely asleep. Maybe Jungkook retired for the night, too. Thinking about this, you tiptoed inside and made sure not to make any loud noises.
However, you were shocked when you saw Jungkook standing by the floor-length window and looking outside it like some predatory bird.
"Did you promote yourself from being a lowly eunuch to an empress' royal guard?" It was meant to be a sneer, but your tone made it seem like gentle teasing.
Jungkook whipped his head and met your eyes. He was shocked to see you, too. "I'm not waiting for you." He denied vehemently. He even crossed his arms. "I just thought it was Hanni who arrived."
"Oh?" You checked your wristwatch. "It's past nine. Hanni's still not home?"
Jungkook shook his head, "Not yet. Captain Yoongi called. He said Hanni's enjoying herself too much in their home. Apparently, Chief Namjoon built a playground for her." Ji-eun and Jongsuk's children were there too. "Who drove you here? Your secretary? A friend? Your colleague?"
Jungkook saw the flashy car outside and how fast you hopped out of that vehicle. He wondered why. Was it because the driver did something to get you all flustered?
Jungkook found himself clenching his fist. It did not help that you were avoiding his question. Admittedly, you did not want Jungkook to know that Rico drove you here. Luckily, you found a way to divert the topic when you looked at him directly.
"Huh?" You squinted your eyes. You didn't catch it earlier since you were meters away from him, but now you could clearly see the bruise on his face. "Is that a black eye?"
It was Jungkook's turn to avoid your question. He looked away and kept his mouth sealed. What the hell?
"What? Are you playing deaf now? I'm asking you, asshole. Is that a black eye?" You trudged toward him and grabbed his jaw so you could examine his face. You were right. Jungkook had a black eye and a cut in his lips.
Looking at him made your temple hurt. You gritted your teeth in anger.
"What are you up to these days, huh? Did you go around fighting civilians? Aren't you in public service? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"It's not a big deal." Jungkook shook his head to wriggle out of your grasp. "There's a guy at the station who pissed me off."
"That's it?" Wow. He was really an idiot. "Do you go around punching people who pissed you off? What about me, then? Since you piss me off so much, should I just punch you to death?"
You pulled Jungkook to sit on the couch and grabbed the first aid kit to clean his wounds. Jungkook was not even bothered with his cuts. He just displayed them as if they were some kind of Christmas decorations.
Jungkook endured how hard you pressed the cotton swab in his face. He was like a docile kid listening to an adult talk. His posture was relaxed, though. Jungkook had his arms spread on the armrest while his legs were wide apart.
"When did this happen, anyway? Did Hanni see you like this? How did she react?" You couldn't bear seeing Hanni cry and questioning why her precious Jungkook-boy was hurt. Hanni was softhearted. How could anyone talk to her about stinky men fighting? It was disgusting.
Jungkook sighed when he realized you would not let it go. "It happened earlier, alright? Captain Yoongi and I met at the police station to discuss something before he went home with Hanni. It's his and the Chief's day off today. Ji-eun dropped by at the station, too. She came bearing bad news..."
Apparently, the one who impounded Falco's car was negligent. He let some people check the vehicle without proper documents. Now, these people were claiming to be car mechanics and that they found Falco's car to have a faulty break.
Damn it. Your premonition had come true. Jungkook was so mad he punched the negligent asshole until he was crying and shaking on the ground. Captain Yoongi saw what happened, so he stopped Jungkook by punching him in the face. He didn't want to, but he had to act 'fair' in front of other police officers. Besides, if he didn't stop Jungkook, there was a big probability that Jungkook would end up killing that negligent officer.
"Why didn't you call me?" You whispered. You couldn't bear to press the cotton swab harder on Jungkook's face after finding out what happened.
"Why?" Jungkook hmphed. " So you can stop me?"
"No." You met his eyes. "So I can punch that asshole too."
Jungkook clearly did not expect that response from you, yet he couldn't help his lips from curling up. Right. You told him before not to worry—you loved Sora so much that you wouldn't let go of those who hurt her.
"Nah," Jungkook shook his head and grabbed your hand. It was close to his lips. You could feel his hot breath on your hand. "You're just gonna hurt your hands. Empresses shouldn't fight lowly people."
Jungkook managed to make you laugh before dropping the bad news to you, "The guy is sent to the hospital and broke a few bones. Serves him right, although..." He smiled in embarrassment, "Captain Yoongi suspended me. I am jobless for a month."
What?
Before you could react, Jungkook stood up to defend himself in case you punched him, "Isn't it great? Now, you have more time to work! I can take care of Hanni the whole day. Yay?"
"Jungkook, you idiot!" You took off your shoe to throw it at him. Unfortunately, the doorbell rang.
Jungkook rushed to the door, "Hanni's here! Don't hurt me, Terni. You can't teach a three-year-old violence!"
The door opened while your shoe was flying in the air. Captain Yoongi was the first to enter the house, causing the shoe to hit his chest.
"Captain!" You and Jungkook snickered. Namjoon was behind him, carrying a sleeping Hanni in his arms. He saw what had happened to Yoongi. The Chief didn't react, though. In fact, he seemed to be holding back a chuckle.
Yoongi glared at Namjoon before throwing a daggered look at you and Jungkook. He loosened his tie and said, "Come here while I'm still asking nicely."
You seemed to teleport back to when Yoongi was training you and the other kids in martial arts. The traumatic memories prompted you to back away and wave your hand in a hurry, "Well, then. It's getting late. Jungkook, you should put Hanni to bed. Captain, Chief, it's nice to see you. Good night!"
You ran to your bedroom after that, ignoring Jungkook's incessant call to you. Captain Yoongi pulled the collar of Jungkook's shirt. He was about to teach him a lesson but backed off when he saw the bruise on his face.
"You're lucky I don't want to touch your face anymore." Yoongi pushed Jungkook and gestured for Namjoon to hand Hanni back to Jungkook. "Take back your kid. She ate all the candies at home. I'll buy more tomorrow and feed them to her next week. Good night."
Jungkook was dumbfounded as he carried Hanni into his arms. He smiled awkwardly at his bosses. "Good night, Captain. Good night, Chief."
Namjoon patted Jungkook's back before following Yoongi outside. "Good night, Jungkook."
Jungkook stood there for a few minutes before blinking back to reality. His bosses were long gone, but he still felt he was in a fever dream.
"Huh," Jungkook muttered to himself as he made a beeline to Hanni's bedroom. "What a strange night."
Indeed, it was a strange night.
***
The strangeness of that same night didn't end instantly. At 11pm, you and Jungkook jolted awake and rushed to Hanni's room when you heard her loud wail from each of your baby monitors.
"Hey, sweetheart. It's okay." You took Hanni's small frame and rubbed the back of her head. You were panting from being forcefully woken up to attending to Hanni in a matter of seconds.
Jungkook was also worried about Hanni but wasn't as disoriented as you. You guessed it was because his work forced him to deal with much more dangerous things. He assessed the situation by languidly looking at you as you pacified the child.
"Bad dream?" Jungkook caressed Hanni's hot cheek. Tears were still falling down her face. The little kid nodded and nuzzled her cheek to Jungkook's finger as if finding comfort in his soft touch.
"Can you tell us what happened, Hanni?" You continued rubbing her back and called her by her given name. You just needed to make sure she was present and that she knew you would listen to what she had to say.
"Let's sit for a while, yeah?" Sleepiness could still be traced to Jungkook's eyes. He didn't seem to have fully woken up yet, but ironically, he was aware of his surroundings.
One look at you, and Jungkook's hand had already made its way to fix the strap of your lingerie that fell on your shoulder.
Goosebumps pricked at your skin. Jungkook's palm was unbelievably warm—it calmed your shaking body as if telling you Hanni was safe. There was no need to worry if Jungkook's attention could stray to a petty matter like the strap of your dress.
But damn it. Was this really a small matter? Your face was flushed red, and your heart felt like it was about to explode because of embarrassment. You were wearing a sexy nightgown, after all. This was your secretary's fault! Why'd she pack these clothes for you?
'No. This isn't about me.' You scolded yourself as you gently helped Hanni sit on her crib bed. You sat on the floor, and Jungkook, the attentive man he was, retrieved a blanket you could use for cover. He sat on the floor, too, gently coaxing Hanni to talk about her nightmare.
The little girl said she saw her parents in her dream. She kept calling for them, but Sora and Niccolo never looked back. The couple just walked farther away from her.
"I miss mummy and daddy," Hanni said through whiny sobs. Your heart ached for her.
You knew you hadn't given your best for this godchild of yours. Your attention was mainly focused on work and Sora's case. Could you even call yourself a guardian at this point? Hanni was a small child who needed protection without asking. Why did it take you so long to comfort her? Why did you think skipping over an important topic was okay just because you were afraid to see how she would react?
Hanni was nothing like you. She was not an adult who could understand her emotions. She was a child. She needed to feel. She needed to understand what emotions were.
"Do you like rabbits, Hanni?" You spoke with bated breaths, but your smile was wide as ever. You couldn't break down this time. Hanni needed you.
Jungkook didn't steal your spotlight, either. He sat quietly and listened to how you would explain things to Hanni.
The child looked confused and lost, yet she nodded her head at your question, "I like rabbits. Mummy and Daddy brought me to the zoo before. There are so many of them."
A small smile cracked Hanni's lips, but her heart felt heavy as she hugged the rabbit toy in her bed.
Admittedly, you didn't know where this topic would stray at first. The rabbit toy simply caught your attention, and before you knew it, you were already using it as a euphemism for Sora and Niccolo's passing.
"Yes, sweetheart. There are so many rabbits in this world! Your mummy and daddy didn't hear your call because they're busy looking after the rabbits."
"I-I don't understand," Hanni pouted her cherry lips.
You patted her head, "Well, do you remember what it's like to be at your mummy and daddy's restaurant?"
Hanni said yes and briefly described the place and experience to be lively. She really enjoyed watching everyone enjoy eating their food.
"Your mummy and daddy are currently on a mission, Hanni. They are in a faraway place trying to feed rabbits. Your daddy cooks delicious food, right? Mummy is with him to make sure every rabbit has a full belly and a cute smile."
"Really?" Hanni's eyes glistened with astonishment. "Mummy and daddy are making sure all rabbits are happy? They're superheroes!?"
"Yes!" You laughed merrily. "Aren't your mummy and daddy great? They know you love rabbits so much that they want them to live a long and happy life."
"That's good." Hanni seemed happy initially, but she knitted her brow in confusion afterward. "But when are they coming back?"
You looked at Jungkook and signaled him to help you. Regrettably, the dumbass appeared to be deeply engrossed by your story too. He shrugged and mouthed for you to continue.
You rolled your eyes at him before grinning at Hanni, "There are many, many, many, many rabbits in the world, so it's gonna take one hundred years before you can see your mummy and daddy again."
"Hundred years?" Hanni stared at her palm and attempted to count using her fingers. She had only counted one to three before completely giving up.
"I don't know how to count to a hundred, Terni." Hanni was frustrated. Thankfully, Jungkook finally interjected the conversation.
"Don't worry, little one. Terni and I will help you count every day, okay? We'll take care of you for one hundred years until you're reunited with your mummy and daddy."
"Really?" Hanni's fear and sadness were not in sight anymore. She raised her tiny arms enthusiastically, "Hanni's very happy. I love Terni and Jungkook-boy so much!"
You and Jungkook both squeezed to fit Hanni's embrace. The little girl was excited about the possibility of spending time with her new guardians, so you let her talk until she fell asleep.
It didn't take long as Hanni was already exhausted from overplaying at Captain Yoongi's place. You guessed this was also the reason why she had a nightmare. Kids weren't supposed to overexert energy and sleep late, so you thought this was the right time for you and Jungkook to make a new schedule for Hanni's daily activities.
The next morning, you got up early to prepare breakfast. It wasn't only Hanni's schedule that you needed to fix. Her eating habits must be taken into consideration, too. Jungkook brought Hanni to her pediatrician last week and sent you the doctor's findings and suggestions.
Sora and Niccolo used to feed Hanni anything under the sun. It didn't help that your friends, especially Captain Yoongi, were a bunch of softhearted fools who always bought sweets for the little one.
You figured you'd cut Hanni's sugar intake and feed her a full meal twice and a bottle of formulated milk at night.
Today's breakfast was a simple avocado toast and random fruits you'd found in the kitchen and threw into the blender. You were not used to doing this as your secretary took care of all your meals. Fortunately, almost everything was searchable on the internet already.
It didn't take you long to follow the recipe you found online. In fact, you even had time to make Jungkook breakfast, too. It was sort of a 'thank you meal' for handling all matters related to Hanni last week.
You thought Jungkook wasn't so bad. After all, it was hard to hate someone who was soft to kids and respectful to women. Although you knew he was like this from the beginning, the younger version of you would not appreciate it because, hey! You were a regular teenager back then. You had a phase of liking walking red flags and had the "I can fix him" attitude.
You didn't want to indulge in the past anymore, though. You thought one of the few beauties of this world was a person's metamorphosis. You were far from perfect and still had many things to improve, but you were also far from the teenager willing to sacrifice herself for a fraction of someone's affection.
However, you were still a human and craved validation. You waited for Jungkook and Hanni to wake up so they could tell you what they thought about the food you made. Unfortunately, Jungkook seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
You didn't notice it at first as he was still all smiles when he greeted you good morning. He even happily played with Hanni before placing her in her high chair. Now that you thought about it, Jungkook's mood only soured when he was checking the mailbox.
"What's wrong with you?" You couldn't help but ask. You were about to eat breakfast. Hanni's starry eyes were excitedly looking at the food you made. You didn't want to start eating while Jungkook's mood was this sour.
Jungkook was surprised that you noticed his bitter expression. He attempted to smoothen his crumpled face and said casually to you, "Nothing's wrong with me. I just find these flowers ugly."
You were so focused on Jungkook's reaction that you didn't notice the bouquet of baby breath flowers he placed on the kitchen countertop.
You winced, "Where'd you get that?"
"Outside. Someone must have left them for you." There was a small card with your name on it. Seeing the handwriting, you instantly knew who it came from.
That damn Rico sure did not know how to give up.
"Serious question, are you dating somebody?" Jungkook asked out of the blue, watching as you picked up the white flowers.
You were still wincing, "Why are you asking me this question again?"
Jungkook shrugged his shoulders to appear nonchalant. Unfortunately, he looked more like he was sulking than uncaring. "I just think it's fair for me to know. I mean, we are co-parenting Hanni. What if other people misunderstand? What if they think we have a secret baby cause we fucked around years ago? I don't want some random dude or woman punching me in the fa—"
"Okay, first of all, shut up." You cut Jungkook off. "Secondly, what the hell? You're acting weird, asshole. I'm not dating anyone. And if I am, do you really think I'll start my relationship being all dishonest? If Hanni's my child, I'd tell my partner immediately. I can't date someone who can't love me and my child. Hello? Is the world turning backward?"
"So you're single?" Jungkook disregarded your speech and only focused on one aspect. Gosh. He still hadn't changed. Jungkook would always get on your nerves. He was an idiot.
"No. I'll kill my boyfriend if he gives me baby breaths. Seriously?" You looked at the flowers in disgust. "This looks like popcorn."
"Exactly my thoughts! It's like an impostor. Why don't you throw it away?"
You glared at Jungkook and shielded the flowers, "No way. You can't throw away things just cause they're ugly. What are you? Four?"
"I'm three!" Hanni raised her right hand and giggled. She had been watching you and Jungkook converse. She found you two amusing and thought it would be cool to be a part of it.
"Yes, darling. You're three. Still a baby—our baby." You kissed Hanni's cheeks and said to Jungkook, "I'm displaying these flowers until they wither. Now sit your ass here and eat."
"Haha, Terni. Look at Jungkook-boy." Hanni chuckled and pointed at Jungkook, "He's pouting like a silly boy!"
"I'm not pouting!" Jungkook was defensive. He pursed his lips and forced himself to sit down. He harshly took bites of his avocado toast.
"Hey, you greedy fool. Is this Empress not feeding you enough? Slow down. Geez, there's more." You pushed another slice of avocado toast in his direction.
Jungkook drank his smoothie, "This is pretty decent. I didn't know you were good at this."
Well, you didn't know either. "I'll make our breakfast from now on. We can't keep feeding Hanni random foods. We should go grocery shopping, too."
"We should," Jungkook gently wiped Hanni's mouth. The kid was eating so well. "And oh, have I told you already? Kiyomi and Frieda called last night. They said they'd be visiting on Thursday. We need to prepare."
It was good that you brought up the topic of grocery shopping. Jungkook planned to buy some ingredients to cook a hearty meal for the social workers. His mind was simple: he wanted to thank Kiyomi and Frieda for attentively ensuring Hanni was in good hands.
However, you were different from Jungkook. You agreed about the meal preparation for those social workers, but not with the same logic as him. You only agreed because you wanted Kiyomi and Frieda to think you and Jungkook could handle the basic things parents must do: prepare food for their children despite being committed to work. This would allow you to appear as the perfect guardians.
"It's settled, then. I'm taking half a day off work. We can go shopping after breakfast." You worked your ass off last week, barely having the time to sleep. This week would be less hectic. Besides, this was akin to a transition period, as you wouldn't be accepting complex cases in the meantime. You would opt for clients willing to settle their matters out-of-court. As said, your top priority was Hanni and Sora's case. You trusted your team in Seoul, especially Mina. They had minds of their own. You also disliked micro-managing your subordinates.
Everything was falling into its right place. Jungkook thought so, too. A huge grin decorated his lips as he thought of how he'd prepare for tomorrow's visit. The first on Jungkook's list? Make sure the Kang' residence was tidy and homey—and what made a house homey if not flowers?
Jungkook smirked. Yes, he'd buy flowers and get rid of those stupid popcorn pretending to be pretty flowers. Hah!
***
The day of the social workers' visit had finally arrived. You and Jungkook woke up early to prepare. Hanni still needed to go to the daycare, so you dressed her and sent her to school. Fortunately, her class was until 4pm today, giving you and Jungkook ample time without worrying about the little one.
Jungkook stayed behind as he was occupied with cooking and decorating the house. He might have gone overboard with the decorations, but it was worth it once everything fell into place.
You were bitchy about it, though. You teased Jungkook by playfully asking if his motif for today's lunch was a memorial place. The Kang' residence was spotless, though it had flowers almost at every corner of the house.
Jungkook didn't engage with your poor attempt to fight and just stuck his tongue out at you. You could say everything you wanted, but he knew deep down you liked what he had done to the house.
He was wrong, though. You didn't just like it. You loved it. The flowers Jungkook bought were different colors of daisies—which, coincidentally, was your favorite type of flora. But you'd be damned before you admitted it. You knew how smug Jungkook could be when praised—just like now.
"I can't believe you've cooked this, Mr. Jeon. It's very delicious." Kiyomi was enjoying some nikujaga. You were the one who suggested that Jungkook cook this. The soy sauce had a slightly sweet taste, which was good to dip in the vegetables. Kids like Hanni would surely enjoy this meal.
"It's rare to see a man, more so a Police Lieutenant, cook," Kiyomi added. Jungkook blushed, relishing the compliment. Truthfully, he did not cook often since he still lived with his parents. Jungkook never really grew up in his "mama's boy" phase and still enjoyed the meals she cooked for him. In fact, the nikujaga recipe came from his mother. Jungkook informed the social workers about it and said, "Besides, I don't cook often. My fiancée does."
The social workers' attention switched to you upon hearing Jungkook. You cracked a smile and rubbed the back of Jungkook's hand.
Jungkook's fingers were long and bony, making anyone think that Jungkook could break one's neck in just a snap of his finger. It was probably true, especially with how arduous his training was at the police academy. Jungkook had wielded heavy weapons and smashed bottles on criminals' heads more than one could count.
However, looking and feeling were two different things. Surprisingly, Jungkook's hand felt soft under your touch. The protruding veins in the back of his hands pulsated a little, their light green color perfectly contrasting with his silver Versace wristwatch.
"Cooking is the least I can do for this family, really." You spoke, watching as Jungkook's eyes drooped when he felt your fingers languidly drawing circles on the back of his palm.
You had been cooking their meals these past few days, but that was only because Jungkook had a soft spot for Hanni. He'd indulge her sweet tooth, relenting every time Hanni requested overly sweet pancakes and candies. That wouldn't work for you. Your priority was Hanni's health.
"I work a lot, so Jungkook mainly takes care of Hanni. I just support the two of them."
"Oh? Aren't you busy with work, too, Lieutenant?" Frieda enquired. Jungkook's lips quivered, and for a second, he looked as if he wanted to divulge why he wasn't working. You saved him from his idiocy at the last minute:
"He's currently on a one-month leave." You continued tracing circles on Jungkook's hand until your action forced the social workers to look at Jungkook's hand. They spotted a fake engagement ring. You and Jungkook bought it to make your acting more convincing. "Jungkook's initially saving his leave credits for our honeymoon, but Captain Min forced him to get some time off work. This fiancé of mine is so hardworking. Can you believe it? He hasn't filed for a leave in years!"
The key to a good lie was mixing it with the truth. Admittedly, Jungkook hadn't filed for a leave for many years now. His coworkers often teased him, saying he wouldn't find a wife to marry if he focused his time working. However, Jungkook wasn't bothered anymore. He grew tired of spending his weekends going on blind dates. The girls were all pretty and nice, but he didn't feel more for them. He was stuck in the attraction phase. It was as if something was missing. Jungkook wasn't an asshole, so he cut connections with those girls so as to not give them false hope.
There was this one girl who was head over heels for him, though. The woman even brought her parents to the station to cajole Jungkook into marrying their daughter, but the parents gave up halfway because Jungkook seemed oblivious to what they wanted. It was Jimin who told Jungkook about the parents' plan, but Jungkook doubted it. He thought the girl's parents were just being nice.
"Has he not?" Frieda wondered how often you and Jungkook see each other every week if you're both busy with work. She also started asking about your first meeting with Jungkook.
"We've known each other from a very young age. We lived in the same neighborhood and studied in the same school. Though, we only started dating after college." Jungkook lied.
You and Jungkook faked this story together. You two had to make a believable scenario to avoid suspicion. You told more lies, "Yes, as you can see, we started as rivals. Cute, isn't it? Our romantic story is similar to what you see in books."
You brought out your phone and clicked an album in your photo gallery to prove your point. There were a bunch of pictures of you and Jungkook taken in the past. You showed them to the social workers.
"Wow, you've really known each other for so long!" Kiyomi was impressed. There was a photo of a drawing competition during your elementary days. It was captured by your father using an old model camera.
It was one of the worst days of your life. Jungkook was good at drawing, so he was expected to win. He got first place while you were the second placer. Naturally, you could not accept it—especially not after Jungkook mocked you by drawing himself wearing a golden medal. On his feet was a drawing of you kowtowing at him. In a fit of rage, you kicked his shin, causing him to stumble on the ground. Jungkook did not hit you back but told the teachers and your parents about it.
Your mother held a high position in school, so it was embarrassing for her to see her daughter bully kids. She scolded you and forced you to apologize to Jungkook. You did not want to do it, so you cried and kicked your feet.
Jungkook's parents were understanding. They did not get mad at you and instead told Jungkook to apologize first. It was his fault, anyway. You would not kick him if he did not make fun of you.
Since Jungkook feared his parents, especially his mother, he was left with no choice but to mumble a reluctant sorry. His apology only became sincere when he saw your red eyes. For some reason, Jungkook hated seeing you cry, and so he took off his golden medal and let you wear it.
That was the moment your father captured through a photo: Jungkook was giving you his medal while you looked expectantly at him.
Seeing this, Frieda and Kiyomi couldn't help but feel their hearts softening. They scrolled through your phone and found more pictures of you and Jungkook. All of them were taken mainly by Sora since she used to like photography.
"I now understand why you called yourselves rivals," Frieda crinkled her eyes. She found it endearing rather than annoying, "You compete about almost everything, but I gotta say this one's the most interesting."
Frieda showed a picture of you and Jungkook outside your university. You two were wearing formal clothing while protesting. You were holding a "Be fair to all your students" placard written in red bold letters. Meanwhile, Jungkook had a placard that said, "Kim Mingyu is innocent."
"We didn't know you two were activists. I know who Kim Mingyu is. He's classmates with my younger sister Historia before. Mingyu's case was pretty controversial, wasn't it?"
Kim Mingyu was one of Jungkook's best friends, so it was natural for you to be acquainted with him as well. There were many moments when the Idiot Quartet shared meals with Mingyu. In fact, Mingyu once helped you with an academic project during your freshman year.
Everything was going well until your last semester in college. Someone tipped the school officers that a student from Room 509 was possessing illegal drugs. All students present that day were brought in for investigation. Their things were confiscated, and unfortunately, the only student who had unlawful drugs inside his bag was Mingyu.
But that's the thing. Mingyu might have been possessing the drugs, but his medical records showed no signs of being under the influence of any drugs. There was one student who tested positive in the drug test, though.
It was Mingyu's seatmate. Regrettably, this person was from an affluent family in Seoul whose connection extended to Busan. It was obvious that he planted the drugs inside Mingyu's bag so Mingyu could take the fall.
Mingyu initially tried to appeal, asking his friends and classmates for support. However, no one dared help him. The real culprit was powerful, after all. They did not want to get themselves involved in stuff like this.
It was only you and Jungkook who had the courage to protest. Even Sora and the others were hesitant. They told you not to be reckless and to find another way to help Mingyu without revealing your identity.
Looking back, you realized you didn't have any right to mock Jungkook and Jongsuk for being a so-called suicidal maniac because you were just like them. You were very passionate about upholding justice until one day:
A man in a black suit visited you. You just got home after another unfruitful day of protesting in school on behalf of Mingyu. You didn't really feel like talking to anyone that day, but the man made a promising proposal:
He told you he saw your potential and was willing to fund your law school education until you graduate. Everything would be provided by this man. Starting from your tuition fee up to your personal allowance. All he asked was that you move to Seoul as soon as possible, and...
"So that's it?" Jungkook's spiteful face was clear in your head as if the memory had happened recently—except it wasn't. This was after your conversation with that man in a suit. Heck. It didn't even take you an hour to decide.
You have already made a decision.
"I'm going to Seoul next week. I don't have time to protest anymore." You said simply. Your voice carried no hint of regret or sadness.
You were just indifferent.
Jungkook scoffed at your reaction—or the lack thereof. His heart had gone cold, and there was no trace of affection left on his soul after your temporary truce for Mingyu's sake.
"Yeah, as if I'm going to believe that. You're saying it's a coincidence that the Braun clan is sponsoring your studies, right? Hah. Sorry, but I call that bullshit." For a moment, Jungkook looked like he would spit on your face, but he didn't. He just balled his hands into fists and looked at you in contempt.
"You made a deal with that family, didn't you? You'll stop protesting in exchange for a straight path they'd dig up for you and your greediness."
Jungkook usually said the most idiotic things, but you couldn't accuse him now—not when he got everything right.
In exchange for a sure success in life, you betrayed Mingyu and Jungkook.
"I've made up my mind." You said with finality. The situation had already come to this. There was no point in sugarcoating things.
Jungkook didn't say anything, the silence burrowing into your heart and growing into two different emotions:
Yours was grief, and all Jungkook felt was bitterness. That day, you parted ways and never spoke to each other again. Sure, there were times you two were forced to be in the same room—like the day of Sora's wedding and when she gave birth to Hanni.
But even then, you barely looked at each other's directions. Somehow, you always felt like Jungkook was lying when he told you recently that he never hated you—that all there was to feel was annoyance at your devilish face.
It was untrue. After all, not even yourself was on your side. Jungkook might say he didn't hate you, but you sure did.
Wasn't it funny? You had achieved your dreams, but there were still some nights you thought you could go back in time. Maybe then, Mingyu and his family wouldn't have to be sent to the most rural part of Japan.
Mingyu wasn't sent to prison, but his life had been caged while his wings were cut off. Meanwhile, Mingyu's seatmate, who had ruined his life, was free—he went by the name Rico Braun.
***
The lunch with the social workers went well. You didn't want to be complacent, but you saw Frieda encircling 5 on her rating sheet. This number represented the highest point to rate you and Jungkook.
"Shall we open a bottle of wine for this success? It's still early to pick up Hanni. What do you think?" You asked Jungkook as you picked up the dirty plates and brought them to the sink.
Cleaning up after playing host was one of the things you hated doing. It didn't help that Jungkook was giving you the cold shoulder—or at least this was what you thought.
Jungkook hadn't spoken to you since Frieda and Kiyomi left half an hour ago. Jungkook had his lips puckered, and his brows creased together. You were familiar with this reaction well.
Either he was pensive or pissed. Knowing him, it was most likely the latter. After all, you could only take a few days of not fighting. Anything more than a week would be a goddamn miracle.
"Or we can just finish our chores in silence." You raised your shoulders slightly, taking a peek at Jungkook, who was still eerily quiet.
You heaved a sigh. Fine. You wouldn't push it.
'Or maybe you should.' The little voice inside your head made a comeback, so it was only natural to listen to the voice.
You didn't attack Jungkook at once, though. Firstly, you stood beside him and 'helped' him wash the dishes. You were the one lathering soap on the plates while he washed them with clean water.
It started subtly—you whisked soap suds in his direction until they hit his forearms.
Jungkook did not mind it and just continued washing the dishes.
You rolled your eyes before doing it again. This time, you whisked soap suds into his forearm with more force.
Jungkook did not react, prompting you to whisk more until his arm was covered with soap suds.
You were about to do it again, but Jungkook had seized your treacherous wrist.
"What?" You titled your head up and stared at him innocently. Jungkook peered down at you and opened his mouth. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to berate you, but he stopped when he saw your lips curving into a teasing smile.
Jungkook felt like he lost his mind a little whenever he looked at your annoying face. How could this be? How could he be stressing over something related to you while you looked like you had no clue you were fucking him up?
It was not fair.
Jungkook pulled you closer to him, letting you have a whiff of his expensive cologne: sandalwood. Jungkook did not know it, but you were not doing better than him. Your weakness was men who smelled good, alright? You were just a girl, after all. You were attracted to things that screamed masculinity, and sandalwood was one of them. The musky and earthy aroma made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
As if that wasn't enough, your heart also skipped a beat when he licked his lips and pushed you slightly on the kitchen countertop, effectively caging you in his arms.
Jungkook suddenly leaned closer and whispered to your ears.
"Why'd you keep them?" His voice dropped an octave.
"Keep what?"
It was a miracle that you could still look at him in the eyes and act all oblivious. It made Jungkook want to pull his hair out.
"You know what I'm talking about." He insisted. However, you were more stubborn than he was.
"I don't. Last time I checked, I'm a defense lawyer, not a mind reader."
No one said Jungkook had a good temper. He closed his eyes tightly, seemingly fighting the urge to snap at you—he did not. He just breathed out slowly and asked you the question as patiently as he could.
"Fine. Play dumb, but I won't accept a half-ass answer." He narrowed his eyes at you, "Why did you keep all our photos together?"
The photos were at least twenty years' worth of your life together. You were thirty-two now. Sometimes, it still fascinated you to remember that you had known Jungkook all your life.
"Don't speak nonsense about you being sentimental. We both know that's not the case because you can let go of everyone without thinking too much about it."
You scoffed at that. Hah. You knew it. Jungkook did hate you for leaving—he hated how you could throw away your bond with the people here in Busan just to make a name for yourself. Until now, Jungkook had some reservations about you. He racked his brain of why you would be keeping those photos.
It might mean nothing to you—that this was just one of your schemes to trick those social workers. But could you have found all those pictures in a few days? Not to mention that some were really old.
So why? Why did you keep them—even the ugly and blurred ones.
Jungkook was desperate for an answer, and he didn't know why. Sadly, you did not relent and even went as far as throwing back a question at him.
"What about you? Why did you fill this place with flowers? Daisies, on top of that."
It shouldn't mean anything. Heck. The question you asked was a shot in the dark. The better part of you knew it was simply a coincidence, but sometimes, your self-preservation didn't seem to work. You put meanings to things that didn't hold value for others.
"I asked you a question first." Jungkook dodged the bullet. He could be stubborn, too.
"Well, I'm not answering your question until you answer me."
"Ditto."
You glared at each other. Silence permeated the room. A few seconds later, you and Jungkook both turned away from each other as if accepting defeat without bruising your egos.
'Fine. I won't say anything.' He muttered to himself.
'Over my dead body.' You thought silently.
And with that, no questions were answered, but fear and hope entangled your and Jungkook's hearts.
***
Sora and Niccolo's case finally progressed to the highest court a month later. Justice could be achieved promptly when you know prominent people in the field.
Captain Yoongi and Chief Kim did everything they could to help you and Ji-eun win the case. Thanks to the prosecutor's ability, the jury's hearts were won.
Ji-eun managed to rebuke the faulty break allegations, arguing that even though the break was tampered with, the defendants were still guilty of negligence. Ji-eun's exact words before the judge went like this:
"Defendant Falco Grice, do you know how many seconds there are in a minute?"
"Yes. There are sixty seconds." Falco supplied.
"Then, how many hours do you spend studying every day?"
The question made Falco's eyes light up. Right! He liked answering questions regarding his studies because, according to Attorney Leonhart, his dedication to academic activities would prove how stressed he was in school, which resulted in him and Gabi trying throttle therapy.
The defendants couldn't retract their statements anymore as they had already been recorded by the traffic police and Captain Yoongi. Annie had no choice but to just turn things around.
If she couldn't minimize her clients' charges, she'd just shift the attention to hating the school and making them liable for giving unrealistic workloads to their students. This would surely earn the sympathy of students and parents.
Unfortunately, you and Ji-eun had read through this tactic, so you readied yourselves for a comeback.
"I studied a maximum of 18 hours a day, Mam Prosecutor, including eight schooling hours."
"So that means you spend 10 hours studying alone and taking special classes?"
"Yes, Mam." Falco did not know where Ji-eun was going with her questions, yet he answered them as truthfully as possible. He thought being sincere could help him win the people's hearts in court.
"You know what I find ironic?" Ji-eun quirked her brow. Disbelief was written all over her face as if this ordeal was absurd. "You study 18 hours a day because you are afraid to fail your classes, but are you telling me you can't spend a minute or two checking the condition of your car? If you're so scared of hJiming someone, then why did you use your car without checking it first? You claim to love studying, but how about studying your lessons during your driving schooling days? Did you forget everything just because you have your license now?"
"T-That's not it..." Falco trembled. Tears immediately welled up in his eyes. He looked at Annie, so the lawyer tried to object to Ji-eun's statement.
"Objection, Your Honor! Argumentative." Annie gritted her teeth. "Why are you badgering my client, Prosecutor Lee? Are you telling everyone in this honorable court that studying is not important? Why are you shaming my client for studying hard? Students are the future of our country! If there's something rotten here, isn't it the education system that gives unrealistic syllabus to students?"
"Objection, Your Honor!" Ji-eun fought back. The judge gave her the signal to speak. "Why are you holding other people accountable for your client's negligence? Shouldn't we also blame those driving schools if we follow your logic? The police officers? The honorable court and judges? This is not the first time someone has been charged with negligence. It happened before and is happening now. Are you telling me we should hold the people in public service accountable since the cycle keeps repeating?"
The people inside the court were scandalized by what Ji-eun said. You smirked as you watched things unfold. Things were going according to how you and Ji-eun pictured it.
The judge overruled Annie's objection. Attorney Leonhart couldn't lower the charges to manslaughter either. The court hearing was coming to an end, but before the closing remarks of both lawyers, the judge first allowed some people to take the stand.
You were one of those people with the privilege to say a few things, mainly addressed to the judge and the jury. You and Ji-eun talked about this. At first, it was to gain more sympathy, but as you take the stand, with Hanni sleeping soundly in your arms, you suddenly become vulnerable. You felt like you were back to being your teenage self—no sense of accomplishment and powerless to defend your loved ones.
You could only offer your heart.
"I stand here today not as a lawyer nor someone who will put justice in her own hands. Rather, I stand here as a friend and as a-a..." You trailed off when you heard your voice cracking.
Perhaps Ji-eun was right. You should have prepared a written speech for this moment. However, scheming was already part of your soul. You feared you'd end up writing a speech with malicious intent. You did not want that—not for Sora. Everything you would say today would come from the bottom of your heart.
"A guardian of a three-year-old child." You swallowed the lump in your throat while looking at Hanni with gentle eyes. You focused on the baby and nuzzled her nose with your pointer finger. Hanni cooed and smiled in her sleep. The jury watched silently, feeling their heartstrings being pulled.
"An average person in Japan lives until the ripe age of eighty, but my best friend Sora Kang and her husband were unfortunately robbed forty-eight years of their lives." Your lungs hurt. They felt like they were burning. You hated this. "Defendant Falco Grice and Gabi Braun stole those forty-eight years where Sora and Niccolo could have spent caring for their daughter—the same girl I have in my arms right now."
Hanni looked more obedient when asleep. No one could resist purring seeing her chubby cheeks and pouty lips. What more if they saw her ocean-blue eyes? You told Ji-eun you would not bring Hanni to the stand while awake. You refused to let her hear about the unfortunate things her parents went through.
"Sora and Niccolo won't see their daughter attend her first prom. They won't see her grow into a loving woman who's so innocent that she wants to save all the rabbits in this world." You looked at Gabi and Falco. "And why is that? The answer is in front of you. Falco Grice and Gabi Braun, claiming to be stressed because of school, aimed to relax through that thing they called throttle therapy, but because of that, two lives were lost. Their throttle therapy made them feel the cool air hit their faces, but what about Sora and Niccolo? Air was robbed of their lungs!" Your anger was palpable.
The jury's heart throbbed in pain.
"Falco and Gabi felt their hearts beat fast because of the excitement and adrenaline of overspeeding their car, but what about Sora and Niccolo? Their hearts were not beating fast—it's not beating at all."
Sometimes, you lay in tears in bed at night, wondering if your best friend and her husband died immediately—at least then, they wouldn't feel the agonizing thought of leaving their small child while feeling every bone in their body ache.
Your speech continued for a few more minutes before you ended with, "Attorney Leonhart said it herself: the youth is the hope of this country, so honorable jury, and judge, I implore you to think about your decisions carefully. A three-year-old in my arms could grow up with hope or a bad image of the world where injustice is fostered. In the end, the choice is yours."
Silence enveloped the courtroom. You went back beside Jungkook, who wrapped his arms around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. Hanni was passed to Taehyung for a while. The poor boy needed someone to hold, too.
A while later, the decision was made. You, Jungkook, and the others listened in anticipation as the jury's foreperson announced the verdict.
Both Falco and Gabbi were found guilty of reckless imprudence, resulting in multiple homicides. As the driver, Falco got seven years in prison and was ordered to pay ten million won. Meanwhile, Gabi needed to serve two years in prison for influencing Falco and was ordered to pay five million won. Both their cases were nonbailable.
"So ordered!" Your squared shoulders slumped when you heard this, followed by the absolute sound of the gavel. Jungkook visibly relaxed beside you, too. He squeezed your shoulder once before rubbing it and kissing your temple.
It was a surreal moment. The warmth of his lips made your body soft. You leaned to him and buried your face to his chest. Jungkook caressed your hair, not minding at all that his suit was stained by your tears.
They were happy tears. Finally, justice was served.
***
The end of the month not only concluded Sora's case but also marked the end of Jungkook's suspension at work.
It was a relief, really. Jungkook staying at home might be helpful since you didn't have to hire a babysitter anymore, but goddamn, did it not make your life easier. In fact, it made you feel like you were living in hell.
Hell was said to be hot, which you felt precisely every morning. One thing you learned about Jungkook was that he couldn't go on his day without working out. Jungkook recently found the convenience of exercising at home, which turned out to be the start of your life in hell.
Every morning, he'd go to the house's garden to do some pull-ups, planks, squats, and other workout moves. There didn't seem to be any problem with this, right?
Wrong.
Jungkook's workout routine distracted you from working. Unfortunately, your temporary office was at the Kang' residence, too. You made the mistake of putting your table near the floor-length window where you'd have a clear view of the garden. Your intention in doing so was to calm your tense mind by looking at the greeneries. But instead, what you saw was Jungkook grunting; his lips puckered as sweat rolled down his body.
You willed yourself to ignore him, but your clients did not make doing so easy. Admittedly, most of your clients would space out during the consultation as they were busy salivating over Jungkook working out. Sometimes, you'd be forced to draw on the curtains, but this was proven inefficient since your office would be so dark that you couldn't read the files on your table.
Thankfully, the worst had come to an end. Jungkook's going back to work. Conversely, you did not open your office today, saving you the mouth-drying experience of seeing Jungkook exercise.
However, fate refused to be on your side while the heavens liked seeing your knees turn into jellies. You didn't see Jungkook during his workout session, but you saw him post-workout.
You had just woken up and were feeling a bit thirsty, so you went to the kitchen without regard to your appearance. Your hair was a mess, and gunk stuck in your eyes, causing you to rub it off.
You yawned while waiting for your water to boil. Unexpectedly, Jungkook emerged in front of you.
"Mornin." He flashed a lazy smile at you. His slightly out-of-breath tone from working out all morning snapped you out of your sleep-like trance.
"Damn it." You were almost burnt by the water. Jungkook's eyes widened, immediately pulling your hand away from the kettle.
"What's up, sleepyhead?" Jungkook teased before blowing hot air on your slightly red hands. "Water's overflowing. Did you forget how to use a kettle, hm?"
You had filled the kettle with water beyond the maximum point. Not to mention that you had also switched on the fire to the highest temperature.
You couldn't argue with Jungkook. This was indeed your fault. You were careless.
"Sorry," you tried to make your voice as flat as possible while subtly wriggling out of his grasp. Jungkook noticed your avoidance, so he let you go at once.
Right. He was all sweaty. Of course, you'd be disgusted by his touch. However, this was far from the truth. You were simply caught off guard by his presence and how he looked.
Jungkook was wearing a black compression shirt and baggy grey training pants. His usual silver wristwatch was replaced by a smartwatch.
He looked...hot. You couldn't deny this, and for some reason, your temples throbbed, giving you an illusion that someone's soft lips were caressing it.
Fuck.
You should definitely check your period tracker. You were probably ovulating a little earlier this month.
You weren't the only one having dilemmas with your body. Jungkook watched as you clumsily poured yourself water and drank it. You looked disoriented, and that shouldn't be a good sign. But oddly enough, Jungkook liked seeing you like this—your guard was not up, and you were uncaring about how you looked.
You're just being you.
Jungkook was unaware that his smartwatch had detected his heartbeat. It flashed red warning lights, indicating that his heartbeat was abnormally fast.
Jungkook cleared his throat. You looked at him.
"I'm going back to work today. Thanks for making breakfast for me these few weeks, but you don't have to anymore. Captain Yoongi always brings us food."
Jungkook was seriously grateful for your efforts. Besides, your food was very savory. Jungkook just didn't want to burden you further. You barely had time for yourself since you were busy attending to Hanni and your work.
Frankly, Jungkook did not expect you to be this caring. He guessed he had this notion of you pouring your efforts just for money and power. He was not proud of this, alright?
"Oh," you blinked, "But I've already prepared your breakfast last night." You made some veggie-packed breakfast sandwiches and overnight oats. Actually, you asked Jungkook's mother for some breakfast recipes. She gladly talked to you over the phone but said she'd love to see you in person, too. The Jeon residence had a huge garden where you could pick up fruits and vegetables. That would be fun.
"I'm not going to cook tonight, though. Taehyung invited us to dinner." Your friend made a reservation in a fancy restaurant to mark the win of Sora and Niccolo's case. Taehyung wanted to thank everyone, especially you and Ji-eun, for pushing through.
"Oh, right. It's tonight." Jungkook asked how the three of you would go to the restaurant. You told him you had business near the police station later, so you could drop by there. Afterward, you and Jungkook could pick up Hanni from the daycare before driving to the restaurant.
Jungkook agreed with your plan. After that, your day had been pretty much the same. Thankfully, your client for today was easy to talk to and just agreed to whatever you suggested. He said you were the expert, not him. As a result, your meeting with the client ended thirty minutes earlier. You thought it was a waste to drive back home, so you just went to the police station to hang out.
Everyone was having a feast. Apparently, a good citizen brought food for the police officers as a 'thank you' for saving her life. It was a woman in her early thirties. You heard people calling her Pieck. She had a soft smile on her lips as she urged the officers to eat.
Jungkook saw you the moment you stepped foot inside the station. Unfortunately, he couldn't attend to you as he was the star of this joyous event. You simply waved at him and mouthed, "I can wait."
Jungkook smiled and nodded before turning his attention to Pieck and his comrades.
You watched them for a while, feeling your chest wJiming at the thought of people praising Jungkook. He deserved it. You hadn't met anyone aside from Jongsuk Lee, who was as passionate about freeing people from the hands of criminals.
Your soft heart even turned softer when an older woman stood beside you and told you to eat some food. She introduced herself as the mother of Pieck Finger.
"Lieutenant Jeon is indeed a hero," You couldn't say no when Mrs. Finger shoved desserts in your hands. You ate them. "You know him, don't you? He saved my Pieck from a group of drunkards trying to assault her."
The incident happened just a few days before Sora's accident. Pieck didn't have the opportunity to express her gratitude to Jungkook because the first time they went to visit the police station, Pieck's parents overwhelmed Jungkook with the intention of marrying off their daughter to him.
Pieck's parents wanted Jungkook to be their son-in-law, someone who wasn't armed but wouldn't hesitate to fight a group of evil men. Mrs. Finger told you that Jungkook was in a bar that night. He was off-duty, so he didn't bother bringing his gun. Jungkook just used beer bottles to smash the heads of the pricks who dared lay a hand on Pieck.
Sadly, Pieck didn't get away unscathed. The men had broken her leg even before Jungkook came to save her. Actually, Pieck was wearing a leg cast until now. She still had a week to go before completely removing it.
Pieck had a hard time standing and walking. Jungkook wasn't heartless to watch her struggle, so he held her shoulders and guided her while handing food to the officers.
You and Mrs. Finger watched them. The latter snuck a glance at you, her lips curving into a smirk.
"Don't you think Lieutenant Jeon and my daughter look good together?"
Oh?
You didn't switch your gaze at the old woman and instead remained watching Jungkook and Pieck. You tried to picture them together, but you just couldn't do so.
"I don't think so," you replied to Mrs. Finger truthfully. She scoffed and furrowed her brows. She looked like she aged 10 more years after hearing your blatant disrespect.
You shrugged off your shoulders and casually showed her your right hand adorned with an engagement ring. "I think Lieutenant Jeon and I look better together."
If you thought Mrs. Finger would backtrack her statement just because you and Jungkook were 'engaged,' then you were wrong.
She eyed you from head to toe before looking at her precious daughter. You were nothingcompared to Pieck.
"My daughter is a teacher." Mrs. Finger crossed her arms, "She knows how to take care of a small child, so it won't be hard for her to be the perfect wife for Lieutenant Jeon. Unlike you..." She looked at the way you dressed. Too classy. You seemed high-maintenance. It would be a waste if Jungkook used his salary coming from the people's taxes to support you.
"You're still a woman, so I think you won't have a hard time looking for a husband, but you and Lieutenant Jeon don't match. Just Look at him..." Mrs. Finger urged you to look at Jungkook and Pieck. "Look at the way he treats my daughter. He thinks she's a delicate flower."
Her description made you cackle. You couldn't help it. This old woman was both funny and pathetic.
"Genuine question: do you think Jungkook 'perfectly' matches your daughter just because he treats her like a human being?"
Your concerned face didn't look fake. But instead of finding it endearing, Mrs. Finger thought you were mocking her.
"And what do you mean by that?" Mrs. Finger got all defensive.
You heaved a sigh, "I just think it's sad that you are forcing an already committed man to your gorgeous daughter." You were telling the truth. Pieck was a catch. "And you're doing all this just because he treats her kindly. It makes me wonder what kind of men you and your daughter surround yourselves with—seeing that you become all desperate for the bare minimum."
"You—!!" Mrs. Finger was speechless. Her face was red because of humiliation.
You were not trying to embarrass her, though. You pitied her. Admittedly, if what you and Jungkook had was real, you didn't think you'd be jealous of how he treated Pieck. You were actually going to question his behavior if he wasn't treating her like this.
You didn't want to date a man who was only good to you.
"You said your daughter is a teacher, right? I hope she doesn't teach kids that something normal must be rewarded with God-like treatment. Because if that's the case, your standards in people, especially men, are on the floor."
Mrs. Finger was about to say something, but she saw Jungkook jogging in your direction.
"Hey," Jungkook greeted you, a sweet smile was plastered on his lips. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Are you ready to go?"
"Mn. Mrs. Finger and I were just idly chatting,"
Jungkook was so focused on you that he didn't notice the old woman beside you. He bowed at her, thanking her for helping Pieck cook the food for today.
"But you barely ate, Lieutenant." Mrs. Finger subtly complained. Her brows were knitted together. She hadn't calmed down from her rage yet. She wished she could pull your hair for being too arrogant.
"Ah, sorry," Jungkook smiled sheepishly. "I've eaten a lot earlier at lunch. My fiancée packed me a bento box. You've met her, right?"
Jungkook introduced you and Mrs. Finger more formally this time. The old man was forced to shake your hands before bidding you goodbye.
"We have to go. We'll see you later, Mrs. Finger." Jungkook's hand snaked above your waist but below your breast. This hold was way more intimate than handholding or grabbing someone's shoulder to help them walk.
Mrs. Finger gritted her teeth and glared, resenting you for naturally getting this treatment from Jungkook.
You just smirked at her and walked away.
"By the way, shithead," you called Jungkook when you two were out of the station.
"What?" Jungkook was carried away from pretending. He'd been bragging about you to his comrades and Pieck all afternoon.
"I didn't make your bento for lunch. I just bought it." You did not have time to cook it yourself.
Jungkook stopped walking. You thought he'd mock you, but he shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Doesn't matter. You still thought of me when you bought it."
Now, it was your turn to be stunned. You furrowed your brow at Jungkook, wanting to ask what he meant, but were afraid of hearing the answer.
Like usual, you let it go, refusing to hear it from him.
There was another chance for the truth—just not today.
***
Dinner with Taehyung and the others went well. You continued pretending to have a romantic relationship with Jungkook in front of them. Admittedly, telling them and acting weren't that difficult. You still remember how they reacted when you told them about you and Jungkook a month ago.
The conversation with Yoongi and Namjoon went like this:
"Chief, Captain, I am getting married with her." Jungkook intertwined your fingers together. You'd like to think you were a good actress, so you did not understand why the news did not shock the two men.
Namjoon merely raised his brow and said, "Is this your way of asking us to sponsor your wedding?" The chief thought it would be possible. Jungkook was one of his own. He and Yoongi started saving money for their boys when Jongsuk got married.
"No, no. I mean..." Jungkook scratched the back of his head. His plan didn't go as far as asking his bosses to sponsor his fake wedding. "I just wanna tell you that I'm engaged. You know, just in case someone asks you. We've been together for a while now."
"We know." Namjoon was confused. He looked at Yoongi, who was busy drinking tea. The captain didn't look bothered. "Yoongi, didn’t you tell me before that these two are dating?"
"Huh?" You and Jungkook were perplexed. Did Yoongi come from an alternate universe? Or did he hit his head? Because there was no way either you or Jungkook told Yoongi you were dating.
"Aren't you brats dating since you were 10 years old? The other kids complained about you two flirting during missions." Yoongi said in a flat tone.
You and Jungkook looked at each other. With tacit understanding, you decided not to refute the captain's belief. After all, the sole purpose of this conversation was to make them believe you and Jungkook had a thing. Oh well.
The second person you and Jungkook talked to was Ji-eun. Unlike Yoongi and Namjoon, prosecutor Lee was not easy to fool.
"You're pretending to be dating to get Hanni under your custody, right?" Not just that. She even exposed your lies. As expected of a great lawyer.
You looked at Ji-eun proudly, "So...? Can we trust you to keep this to yourself?"
"Of course." Ji-eun did not hesitate. "You have the attorney-client privilege."
With that, your conversation with Ji-eun ended. You also asked her to relay the news to Jongsuk and Jimin to save time. You and Jungkook were conserving your energy because you thought explaining your situation to Taehyung would be difficult.
Taehyung, your dumbass of a friend.
To your surprise, you didn't have to waste your brain cells trying to make sense of the setup you had with Jungkook. All Taehyung needed to hear was the word marry and he was already pulling you and Jungkook to Sora's grave.
You asked Taehyung why.
"Are you kidding? I owe Sora 3,000 won now. We've made a bet before. She told me you and Jungkook would be engaged in your early thirties. I guess it's my fault for thinking you're gonna drag it until you're in your forties. But you can't blame a guy, can you? You're both stubborn."
With the lies perfectly set, pretending came easy. No one batted an eye with how 'lovey-dovey' you and Jungkook were. The dinner was fun, though the children made it a little chaotic. You did not mind since you were learning to live in the presence of screaming children. Honestly, you admired Ji-eun for keeping a straight face while her kids go crazy. She was pretty chill. Jongsuk was the one tasked to calm the kids.
Speaking of kids, you were worried after talking to Hanni's teacher. She said the daycare had arranged a family trip for their students. You and Jungkook had to accompany Hanni to this event. From what you heard, the parents and their kids needed matching costumes. There would be games that would teach the little ones the importance of family values.
Fortunately, the event fell on the weekend, so you and Jungkook did not have to worry about work. These past weeks, you were learning to take things slow and enjoy life's little moments. You had to remind yourself that you were not running out of time. You did not have to constantly take on many cases to prove to everyone that you were a good lawyer.
"Don't stress yourself too much with our costume, okay? I already have it figured out." Jungkook assured you one evening. The trip was tomorrow. How could you not overthink? You still hadn't seen the costume in person.
"Would you just tell me what you bought for us? I don't trust you."
"Why not?" Jungkook was sulking. "I've thought about it carefully."
"You don't know my size, dumbass." You were going to kill him if he bought something inappropriate or too small for you.
Jungkook's lips curved up. He looked at you from head to toe and said, "Nah. I got it right."
Your knee-jerk reaction was to cover your chest. Jungkook scoffed and told you he was not a pervert.
You didn't care about what he said, especially when the day of the trip finally came. Hanni's teacher came bearing bad news. You thought you had lost your mind when she told you that you, Jungkook, and Hanni were staying in the same room and bed.
This setup was supposed to make the children feel closer to their parents. After all, not everyone had the luxury of spending time with their kids—daycare was even established because the parents were too busy to look after their children.
Hanni was delighted to be spending the night with you and Jungkook. Unfortunately, she recognized the deep frown on your face. She knew you were not happy about this.
"Terni, don't you want to sleep with me and Jungkook-boy?" Hanni's mood plummeted, making your heart drop. You didn't want to hurt her feelings.
"Of course not, sweetheart. It’s just that..." You tongued the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to say. "Jungkook-boy and I can't sleep in the same bed."
"Why not?" Hanni folded her little arms across her chest. You did not speak, so she turned to Jungkook. Sadly, Jungkook wasn't sure what to say either. He was as surprised as you were. He just scratched the back of his neck—this was one of his bad habits every time he was lost.
You sighed, knowing you had to explain things yourself.
"Because Jungkook-boy and I aren't like your mummy and daddy."
"You're not!?" Hanni was shocked. She wrinkled her forehead. "But you said you'll take care of me for a hundred years! Isn't that the job of a mummy and daddy?"
You were running out of excuses. Besides, you couldn't tell Hanni the whole thing. Frieda and Kiyomi were not yet done with their deliberations. You couldn't expose yourselves early on.
"I'll just sleep on the floor," Jungkook said sheepishly. Frankly speaking, he was embarrassed. He was the one who attended the meeting regarding this trip. Jungkook knew you two would stay in the same room, but in his defense, he thought there were two separate beds. Jungkook would disagree if he had known there was only one bed. He would not take advantage of you like that. He wouldn't do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable, either.
"Or I'll just book another room. Don't worry about it." Jungkook stood up and gathered his things. He was halfway through the door when you stopped him.
"You can stay," you swallowed thickly. Jungkook's eyes lit up, but he still did not know what to say. "No need to book another room. The teacher and the other parents might get the wrong idea. We can't show them we're not happy we're staying together."
"Then I'll just sleep on the floor." Jungkook offered genuinely. He wasn't trying to sound like a sad boy, yet that was the vibe Hanni got from him.
Hanni's little shoulders sagged, "But Jungkook-boy, the floor will hurt your back!" For a three-year-old, Hanni sure knew a lot. You guessed this happened when your mom was Sora Kang—the girl who loved potatoes so much but was willing to break them in half and give them to a random stranger with a growling stomach.
"We can sleep in the same bed, alright?" You rolled your eyes to hide your nervousness, "This sounds awful, but Hanni will 'sort of' be our divider. She sleeps in the middle. I will kick your ass if you snore."
Jungkook nodded his head obediently. He was happy he wouldn't have to deal with a stiff neck and a sore back.
"And shower first! I don't like stinky men in my bed!"
Jungkook and Hanni followed your instructions before getting into bed. Both of them realized how much of a clean freak you were. However, you still find sleeping hard despite adhering to all pre-sleeping routines.
You glanced at the wall clock. It was past one in the morning already. Jungkook and Hanni were sound asleep beside you.
You don't usually find it difficult to sleep in a new place. In fact, you were used to it since your job required you to meet your clients all over Japan. The hotel room the daycare had booked for tonight was pretty decent, too.
The air conditioner worked well, and the duvet was clean and soft.
Damn it. You slightly tossed and turned, desperately looking for the perfect sleeping position. In the end, nothing worked.
It was quarter to three in the morning. You released a defeated sigh, resigning to insomnia, and were just about to play with your phone when Jungkook suddenly spoke.
"Can't sleep?"
Goosebumps pricked at your skin because of how raspy his voice was. You turned to face him, about to apologize because you thought you'd accidentally woken him up by tossing and turning. However, you were shocked when he handed you the only pillow he was using.
"What's this?" You asked dumbly.
Jungkook rolled his eyes lazily. "Oh, come on. You know it's a pillow. Just accept it, alright? We both know you can't fall asleep with just one pillow."
Oh.
He remembered that?
Jungkook seemed to have read your mind. He breathed out and pillowed his arm. His gaze was on the white ceiling as if reminiscing.
"I can't forget even if I want to. All my memories of our camping days with Captain Yoongi are just you complaining that you can't sleep."
So that was it. Captain Yoongi used to arrange many camping trips before. He did not separate the sleeping quarters of girls and boys. He always said, "Accidents and disasters can happen anytime. You can't choose who you're with when that happens, so learn to suck it up and deal with the situation with both your friends and enemies."
What Captain Yoongi said made sense. Jungkook learned how to be more patient as he spent the camping days calming himself despite your whiny ass.
"Hey, he made us sleep with a single pillow, okay? My neck hurts." You accepted Jungkook's pillow and tried to lower your voice so as not to wake Hanni. The kid knew how to throw a fit when disturbed. "Thanks."
Jungkook hummed and closed his eyes. You looked at his sleeping figure, feeling your heart flutter. Jungkook had long lashes. From your angle, you could also see his Adam's apple bobbing and his broad chest heaving. You suddenly wondered what laying your head against his chest would be like. Was it warm? Did his heart beat slowly? Or fast? Would it calm you down? Would its sound finally make you doze off?
There were so many questions swimming in your head. Unfortunately, you still couldn't sleep despite exhausting your mind. You tried clamping your eyes tighter, but it was useless.
You didn't remember drinking coffee earlier. What about milk? Should you try downing a glass of milk to help you sleep? Perhaps counting sheep would help. Or maybe you were just craving physical touch.
Right.
Your eyelashes fluttered when you suddenly felt Jungkook wrapping his hand around your thumb. He started stroking your fingers.
Your breath caught in your throat—
"Sleep." He whispered gently, "You are safe here."
—And then your breathing evened as he continued caressing your finger. His actions and words seemed to be the potion your mind was looking for because you really did fall asleep a few minutes later.
The following day, you were awakened by the alarm and a little monkey climbing your leg.
"Terni, wake up!" The monkey was shaking your leg and hips. "Please! Please wake up! It's family day today!"
"No. I wanna sleep!" You cried begrudgingly. Why must a little monkey and an annoying alarm disturb your sleep?
Have they no conscience? This was your first time sleeping peacefully, so you tried kicking the monkey at your feet and hugged your pillow tighter.
This pillow was pretty good. It was warm and sturdy. It even smelled like fresh air and a bit loamy.
Good. You thought you could stay in this position forever as you rubbed your cheek in the pillow.
"I'm starting to think you're not actually sleeping and are just taking advantage of me." The pillow talked, forcing you to stop pinching the pillow and open your eyes.
The world seemed to stop when you were met with Jungkook's lukewarm gaze.
"Is your pillow soft and warm, Empress?" Jungkook quirked a brow, his lips curving into a teasing smile.
You gasped. All this time, you were pinching and caressing Jungkook's biceps, not a pillow! Your head was comfortably leaning on his chest, too.
Scandalous! This was all too scandalous! How dare you wrap your legs around his hipbone. And Hanni! Hanni was still latching on your leg while playing with the hem of your nightdress.
To make things worse, Jungkook chuckled lowly in your red ear and said, "Who's the pervert now?"
No!!!!!! This was your last straw. You pulled Hanni away from your leg and immediately got up from the bed to sprint and lock yourself in the bathroom.
Damn it. This day was not how your morning should've started!
***
You did not have a crush on Jungkook— this was what you kept telling yourself while stuck in the bathroom.
It did not matter that all you could think about was him as you bathed. Or how you couldn't stop seeing the image of him standing behind you to gather your hair in one place so you could brush your teeth better.
You ignored the fluttering of your heart as you thought about how good he had been to you the past weeks, of how attentive he was to your needs. You thought it wasn't a big deal how he gave you the only pillow he had for the night, or how he held you in the police station, or how he decorated the house with daisies every day—yes. Jungkook's madness with flowers never stopped ever since Kiyomi and Frieda's visit. He also habitually checked the mailbox first thing in the morning. You pretended not to understand why, but you knew he was checking if baby breaths were on the doorstep.
There were also times when you went home late because of work. Jungkook would then stand outside the Kang' residence, pretending to enjoy the night stars, but he was just waiting for you to come home.
You brushed off how much you appreciated his jokes, how he distracted you from the pain of losing your best friend, and how he took care of Hanni when he saw you were overwhelmed with everything. Nothing mattered to you because you were not in love—you didn't have a crush on Jungkook.
'Keep telling yourself that,' The voice inside your head betrayed you, yet you stood your ground and ignored the seed of feelings that had long since bloomed into colorful flora.
You were annoyed during the family trip. Not only were you being pestered by your damn feelings, but you were also tormented by how ridiculous you looked.
"Terni, come on. We're late!" Hanni banged her little fists on the hotel room's door. She and Jungkook had been waiting for you to come out for quite some time now.
"Go on without me! I'm not going out there!" You hissed, itching to remove your pink gloves.
"Oh, come on." You heard Jungkook's voice. He also banged the door. "The ceremony is about to start. Let's just go, please?"
You did not open the door as an acquiesce to Jungkook's soft plea. You only showed yourself to them so you could hit Jungkook in the face.
"This is your fault!"
Jungkook let you hit him. He simply chuckled at how cute you looked.
"What are you sulking for? It's not so bad!" Jungkook playfully pulled at your fake whiskers.
You hit him again. "What do you mean it's not so bad! I look stupid!"
Jungkook really exceeded your worst expectations. Who would have thought he'd buy matching rabbit costumes for the three of you? You swore to kill him if he bought something inappropriate, but honestly, you felt a slutty rabbit costume would be better than the rabbit onesie he chose. To make it worse, Jungkook purchased the pink one for you. He had the blue one, while Hanni wore a pastel purple—it was obviously the result of combining the colors pink and blue.
Now, the three of you looked like a happy family. It would have been fine if Jungkook chose a royal or superhero costume. But a rabbit? Seriously?
“Those are overrated,” Jungkook told you this when you complained about not having a Wonder Woman costume. Truthfully, you had seen two families near your hotel room wearing DC superhero costumes.
“Let’s take a picture together. I’ll send it to Kiyomi and Frieda.” Jungkook carried Hanni into his arms and pulled you closer to him. He brought out a camera and took a photo of the three of you.
You couldn’t complain after that since the two dragged you out to participate in today’s activities. Soon enough, your embarrassment did not matter as your competitive side resurfaced to shit on everyone.
It started off fun. Some parents and kids praised you and Jungkook for taking the games seriously. But things started going downhill during the segment called Family Trivia. Your family was leading by ten points, which didn’t hinder you from scoring more.
Old habits indeed died hard. You felt like you were in school again, feeling the thrill of answering rounds of questions. You lost your mind whenever another team answered the question first.
“The word family is derived from the word famulus!”
Hanni’s teacher was about to give the other family a point for scoring, but you pressed the buzzer to complain. The teacher looked at you in defeat, wanting to ignore you but couldn’t.
“Her answer is incomplete!” You argued. You were quite embarrassing, really. You reviewed the questions and games the teacher gave each family more than thrice. This was where you focused your energy; that was why you couldn’t check the trip itinerary and didn’t see you and Jungkook were sharing one bed.
“The word famulus is Latin. It means servant. Say, teacher, give us the point, not to them!”
The teacher looked apologetically at the family that was robbed of point. She couldn’t argue with you since the rules said the answers must be complete.
The other families stared at you contemptuously, but you didn’t mind since Hanni and Jungkook were cheering you on. Jungkook had also never grown out of his competitive phase. His heart swelled with pride as he raised his hand to give you a high-five.
The participants for the next game were the father and his child. Hanni would help Jungkook build a tent. It took the other families twenty minutes to set up their tents, but Jungkook and Hanni did it in less than 10 minutes—this was kudos to Jungkook’s training at the police academy and years of practice doing it during your camping days with Captain Yoongi.
None of the families wanted to talk to you by the end of the games. They thought you ruined the fun for their children. Some kids even scoffed at Hanni, leaving your poor goddaughter crying.
Your heart ached to see Hanni sad. You couldn’t help but blame yourself for taking things this far. It was your competitiveness that ruined Hanni’s reputation at the daycare. Needless to say, Jungkook rubbed yours and Hanni’s back, telling the two of you that you’d win back their hearts before the night's end.
However, you didn’t seem to have a chance to do that when rain suddenly started pouring. You were currently at the top of the mountain. The hike down wasn’t too far, but the ground would be slippery. It was already getting dark. The plan was to sleep in the tent the fathers and children set up earlier, but that didn’t seem viable now.
“We’d like to apologize for this unforeseen event.” Hanni’s teacher was apologetic. It was their mistake for not checking the weather forecast more clearly. “Let’s just wait for the rain to stop; then, we can all hike and sleep in the hotel instead. Don’t worry. The daycare will shoulder all expenses.”
The teacher’s statement did not pacify the parents, as their children started whining and throwing a fit because of the lightning and thunder. Hanni was the only well-behaved child—kudos to Jungkook for sitting with Hanni back at home and educating her about navigating rainy days.
“It’s okay, Jungkook-boy. I’m not scared.” Hanni assured Jungkook. Your heart recoiled with joy seeing them like this. The feelings you had been hiding since morning threatened to resurface again. This time, you were utterly defenseless and were left with no choice but to step back and let the arrow pierce your delicate heart.
Jungkook was a good guardian—a better father than most men you knew. Any woman would be lucky to have him father her children.
You looked around. Most fathers did not know what to do when faced with their crying child. Some tried to subtly scold the little kids for acting up. The others did not bother to hide that they were pinching the kid’s arms to get them to calm down. The mothers were feeling distressed, too.
You abruptly stood up. Hanni was sitting on Jungkook’s lap. Both of them met your gaze and asked where you were going.
“I’ll talk to the teacher. Just give me a minute.” You did not wait for their response and just headed in front. The teacher was having a hard time calming down the kids. You signaled that you wanted to talk, so she nodded and found a quiet place for you to converse.
Several seconds later, you stood before the parents and the students while holding a guitar. Hanni’s teacher borrowed this instrument from one of the families cosplaying as a family of performers.
“Hello, everyone ~” you greeted them. Only a few spared you a glance as they were still busy pacifying their crying kids. You proceeded with your mini-speech and told them you’d be singing a song.
“Kids, you need to listen to the song, alright? Don’t think about the thunder. Just focus on the melody." Then you strummed the guitar strings. Along with it was the light tugging of your heartstrings. Music, particularly singing, was your passion. It was your escape whenever things started getting overwhelming.
Soon enough, the thunder was overpowered by your singing voice. Call it a miracle or just pure talent, but your melodious voice caused peace to seep through everyone’s heart.
You were singing You’ll Be In My Heart by Phil Collins. You were both excellent singers, but something in your voice made you stand out more. Perhaps it was because of how painfully raw your voice was—when you sang, you didn’t just sing with your mouth. You sang with your heart.
You created your own version of the original song that no one could recreate, not even the most prominent voice impersonator. Your voice was like kisses and candles and warm hugs. You were like the last bit of sunlight before the raging storm. And when the storm was over, you were the rainbow—the colorful hues that told people there was hope.
The children stopped crying. Jungkook was the first to stand up and clap his hands like his life depended on it. The other followed suit; whistles and laughter echoed the place.
A little while later, the rain finally stopped, and Jungkook’s claim turned out to be correct:
You’d won the people’s hearts before the night ended.
***
The path going down the mountain would take ten minutes or so. It was also a straight and smooth trail, so the kids wouldn't find walking difficult. However, the adults didn't have the heart to let these three-year-old children walk. Luckily, there were mountain wagons they could ride.
Hanni was hanging out with her friends again. Your singing voice really warmed them up. They thought Hanni was pretty cool for having a guardian whose voice was as good as Elsa from Frozen and other Disney princesses.
"Does this mean you're demoted to being just a princess, Empress?" Jungkook teased you on the way back to the hotel. You two were walking beside each other.
The teacher, parents, and other officials guided all the kids in the wagon. Jungkook decided to walk at the back of the group, his police lieutenant personality kicking in. He wanted to make sure no one was left behind.
You figured you'd just accompany him as you didn't want to converse with other parents. Besides, they were busy looking after the wagons.
"Shut up, you lowly subject. This empress felt happy, so I thought, why not appease my people?" You shot back at Jungkook. He laughed at your poor attempt to talk like a royalty. It was funny, considering you were still in your rabbit costume.
Jungkook encircled his hands on your waist and pulled you near him, ensuring you didn't hit any trees. He hummed, "I haven't heard you sing in years."
Of course, he had not. Law school and your life in general fucked you up so badly. You had experienced failure after failure to the point that you questioned yourself—starting from the things that defined you to the things you loved and hated.
You wondered if you would ever amount to more. Failures took such a great toll on you that even the thing you loved the most didn't feel fulfilling anymore. There was a point in your life where you thought you didn't have the right to make music—that it should be reserved for people who were good at it and not someone like you who just loved it.
"That's cause I haven't sung in years." You admitted.
Jungkook cast his gaze on the ground. His heart was uneasy, wanting to ask you a question, but he wasn't sure if he had the right to.
"Last time I sang was when I was with you."
Your voice was barely above a whisper, yet Jungkook still heard it. He paused. Then he looked at you intently.
You weren't lying. Years ago, you were passionate about music. You even composed your own songs. Sora and Taehyung used to listen to your work all the time, but those two were easily distracted and would just tell you, "It's good." Of course, you still appreciated it.
However, you seemed to be looking for something more. You thought of Jungkook at that time. He was down and feeling edgy the past weeks. It was because his mother got into an accident and ended up needing leg surgery.
Jungkook barely ate, worrying about his mother to the point of insanity. You couldn't take it anymore, so you once went to him with a guitar.
"I'm not in the mood to fight with you," Jungkook warned. There were no biting remarks in his tone, just pure exhaustion. The fire in his eyes was extinguished, too.
You rolled your eyes and sighed.
"I'm not here to fight. I just need you to listen to me sing."
"Huh?" Jungkook flinched. He was clearly perplexed about what you said. Did you seriously want to sing in front of him? Were you sick? You never liked to sing whenever Jungkook was around. You said he ruined your mood, so what changed now?
"It's just that..." You trailed off and copied his habit of scratching the back of his neck. It was a good thing you could immediately think of an excuse, "You're my rival. Rivals talk shit a lot about each other, right? I'm joining a singing competition soon. I want you to hear it first, and then you can criticize me all you want. I need to hear them."
Jungkook was not convinced, but he let you be. After all, it was easier to listen to your angelic voice rather than fight you.
You sang your own composition. It was not a love or a heartbreak song. Jungkook sat there dazed, wondering why his heart unexpectedly felt light as you sang words of encouragement—it was as if you were telling him that the huge storm would pass, and all that would be left was a mother's loving embrace.
Jungkook felt tears filling his eyes. He blinked and wiped them before you could see.
"How was it?" You put down your guitar. A gracious smile was plastered on your lips.
It's stupid. I hate it. Don't sing again. These were the words Jungkook wanted to say because these were what you were expecting. But Jungkook was not a liar and was always vocal about his feelings. The first time he met Ji-eun, he did not hesitate to tell her she had pretty hair.
"Thank you," Jungkook ended up telling you. His voice was unbelievably soft that your heart couldn't help but melt. "It was beautiful." You were beautiful.
It sure was. Jungkook did not know what else to say, but it was okay. Later that day and the following days, Jungkook was back to his old self.
He could eat and smile again.
He then asked about the singing competition, but you shrugged and said, "Nah. I don't want to join anymore."
Only a few years later did Jungkook realize that there was no singing competition in the first place.
Jungkook's eyes drooped. You were already in Seoul when he found out about it. Sometimes, he entertained the idea of confronting you about it. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity to do it, but Jungkook just caught your wrist instead of asking you about it.
"Hm?" You stared at him innocently. He stopped walking, and so did you.
"Would you..." Jungkook swallowed hard and licked his lower lip. He felt his heart stuttering.
Your eyes were glistening despite the lack of a moon in the sky.
"Would you...sing a song for me again?"
There was a pregnant pause in the air. You blinked at Jungkook, and for a moment, Jungkook thought you would say no. But then you gently cleared your throat and nodded.
"Let's walk." You pulled him and started descending the mountain. You two were keeping a good distance from the group of people. From here, you could see Hanni laughing heartily with her classmates.
The wind blew, hugging you and Jungkook with its coldness.
"All I knew this morning when I woke, is I know something now, know something now I didn't before~"
When Jungkook asked you to sing, your mind instantly went into autopilot and sang whatever your heart told you.
Everything Has Changed—the song title was exactly what you felt for Jungkook. Wasn't it funny? You went to Busan for your dead best friend.
Sometimes, you felt guilty you were not mourning her enough—that Sora was dead, but your treacherous heart was beating like it never did before.
There was death, but there was also rebirth—the blooming of something you thought you buried for good and left with not even a trace of sunlight.
Daylight had come.
It went in the shade of all right and tall guy with gentle eyes.
Jungkook smiled softly at you. He did not react until you finished singing.
You were almost down the mountain. The kids and the others were already at the foot. It was just you and Jungkook here.
"How's my singing, Your Majesty the Emperor?" You intended to go for a light teasing, but something in Jungkook snapped when you called him emperor.
You were the empress, weren't you?
No words were exchanged. Jungkook put his hand on the small of your back, drawing you in.
Jungkook had kissed other people before. Whenever he did, he always held their cheeks before diving in. But with you, it was different.
He first stroked your head before his right hand gently held the back of your head; his other hand was still in the small of your back.
Jungkook stared deep into your eyes. It was as if he wanted to touch your soul with how intense yet languid he looked at you.
He seemed to want to memorize every part of your face—afraid you'd vanish if he so much as blinked.
But looking was not enough. He wanted a taste, too.
Jungkook wetted his lips, leaning in. Then, very slowly, he inched closer to you as if giving you time to push him away.
You did not.
But Jungkook was still so afraid. His eyelashes quivered before he dipped his head and gave you a soft peck on the lips.
There were no fireworks or grand and flowery words people read in novels.
The kiss was just it—a kiss.
There were no intense feelings, but there was Jungkook and his soft eyes and open heart.
There were no fireworks, but there was the sound of inserting the key in the door lock, then came the twisting of the knob before the door opened.
There was no rollercoaster kind of feeling in that one kiss. Because the only thing here was home.
Kissing Jungkook felt like coming home.
PART 2
likes and comments are highly appreciated 🙏 it motivates me to write more 😉💙
Y/N of this fic patterned to my IRL best friend. i love her so much pls listen to her cover of You'll Be in My Heart as this is how I imagined Y/N singing the song.
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what fish feel
pairing: osamu x fem! reader
summary: what we hold in the time we have – a return to japan and the unfamiliar roads of your heart. title stolen from a bashō haiku that loosely translated goes something like
what fish feel
birds feel, I don’t know—
the year ending.
notes: my official petition to let osamu have an absolute disaster of a partner. post-timeskip spoilers for occupations (specifically of the inarizaki crew). reader is japanese-diaspora (heavily implied to be japanese-american.) my japanese is poor so please correct me if there’s something not right! loosely inspired by the documentary jiro dreams of sushi (which you can watch for free on youtube, i think!).
for all my diaspora lovelies and for everyone who, as a child, used to think i want to go home, no matter where they were. here’s hoping the road there is warm and well-lit.
cw: casual mentions of racism, sexism, xenophobia in relation to japanese culture. second-gen immigrant guilt (and by default an obsession with food as a love language.) very in-your-face flouting of health and safety codes for restaurants.
___
Summer, and the sky is nothing but blue.
Your airplane touches down on the runway in a fit of grinding gears and last-minute jolts, but it pales in comparison to the way your legs are cramped and sore, a product of so many hours sat in the same place – the perils of a window seat – alternately staring out the window and dozing against the shade.
Your neighbor, next to you, smiles at you. You’ve spent some time talking to her – listening to her talk, really, the nice old obaa-chan in the middle seat who is just coming back from visiting her son and his wife and their newly-born daughter abroad, who spent at least an hour of the trip painstakingly swiping through photos while you smiled and nodded along.
“日本へよこそ,” she says. Welcome to Japan. You wonder if it should feel more momentous, this first welcome to the country in which your roots are deepest. The first few minutes of a month-long stay, your longest time in this country by far.
Instead, what is: you really do have to pee.
Finding a bathroom in the airport is simple enough, as is making your way through the customs line, although there’s a brief moment of confusion when the customs agent sees your face, your features, and attempts to wave you towards the line for returning nationals. You put your hands up, bow apologetically. “日系人,” you say, and her face clears of confusion.
She points you to the right line.
At the very least, you think, standing with your passport dangling between two fingers, at the very least you speak the language – slowly, in fits and starts, with gaps where your vocabulary should be and absolutely no understanding of any slang – but at the very least you can do things like tell the customs officer what you are. Foreign-born, Japanese descent: close enough by generation that this land should maybe be familiar to you, should maybe be something approaching yours. Far enough that it’s not, not really.
Once you’re through customs and baggage claim – luggage collected, both you and your suitcases a little worse for wear – there’s nothing to do but make your way to the exit, where your cousin is waiting. She looks like you, maybe, if you squint and tilt your head a little. You try your best not to think about it, about how maybe this is what you’d look like if you stayed. She regards you for a moment.
“Hey,” she says in Japanese.
“Hey,” you say back. It is not the first time you’ve felt uncomfortably aware of your accent – how much it must stick out. How everyone who comes into contact with you must know right away how much you're not from here. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
She raises an eyebrow, grabbing one of your suitcases, ignoring your half-hearted attempt at protest. “Come on. Mom’s making dinner.”
Dinner, at least, is something you know. You grip the handle of your remaining suitcase. Follow her out into the sunshine.
Your aunt lives in the suburbs of Tokyo, and you make it there just as the sun begins to set. Stepping out of the car, you shield your face against the glow. “It’s pretty,” you say, half to yourself, half because the car ride had been awkwardly quiet enough that you’d begun to say any inane comment that sprung to your mind out loud, in hopes of starting any kind of conversation.
Your cousin spares it a glance, then pauses. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess so.”
Inside, your aunt fusses over you in a way that makes you feel equal parts uncomfortable and longing – this is what I could’ve had, over and over in your head like a drumbeat. Dinner is already on the table, uni – sea urchin – as the crowning glory.
“You liked this when you were little,” your aunt says, “the last time you came to visit us. Do you remember?”
You don’t. You say you do anyway.
The truth is you think probably you would say you liked anything – even as you take your first bites and realize sometime between childhood and now, you’d unlearned how to like the texture. It’s okay, you think. It’s enough to be here, in the light around the table.
You eat without waiting for your uncle, who gets home halfway through the meal. He toes his shoes off in the genkan, and you stand when he steps inside. From what you remember of him, he is a quiet man. His wife does enough talking for the both of them. Still, when he smiles the corners of his eyes crinkle, and it strikes a chord of remembrance.
“Tadaima,” he says.
You mouth it along with your aunt and cousin. “Okaeri.”
That night, with the grime of the airport washed off of you, wearing your softest T-shirt and pants probably a size too large, you sit on the futon that’s been unrolled for you – in your cousin’s room, right by the window – and stare at the moon. It looks the same. You feel the same. Your cousin, in bed already, is only illuminated by the glow of her phone screen. “Good night,” you say, tentative.
“Good night,” she says, rolling over in bed to face away from you.
The next morning your uncle is gone before you wake up – off to work. Your cousin has class at university, and so you follow your aunt around. It settles in a pattern of the next few days, and you have to actively fight against feeling like a lost duckling. She takes you to the Tokyo Skytree, and you make all the appropriate sounds and take the right photos to send home, of Tokyo’s beautiful skyline. She takes you to Shibuya, and you marvel at the densely packed crowds of people together. She takes you to Tsukiji, the smell of the brine and the ocean lingering on your clothes for hours. She takes you grocery shopping and in the evenings you cook next to her, losing yourself in the familiar repetition of the knife. It could probably be enough, if you let it.
On the sixth day of your visit your aunt’s friend has to go to the hospital – nothing serious, your aunt assures you, but better that they go now – and for the first time since your arrival you are left to your own devices, with nothing but time and the sky above you.
You attempt to go back to the places your aunt’s taken you, to get some shopping done – gifts, maybe, for the people you’ve left at home – but there’s something in you so uncomfortably aware that all the places she’s taken you are tourist destinations, first and foremost. That no one from Tokyo really ever goes.
You pivot away from Shibuya and start walking.
Down the streets, turning when you feel like it, almost definitely walking in a circle more than once – there is something about the act of it, about walking these streets. About pretending, for just a moment – pretending what, you’re not sure. You walk until it’s far past lunchtime and your stomach is reminding you incessantly, until you’re scanning the signs you walk by – an udon restaurant here, an izakaya closed until the evening there – for something you might want to eat.
One of the signs, simple white characters on black font, catches your eye, and you slow to a stop. Sound out the characters in your mouth, clumsy and fumbling. Onigiri Miya, it reads, and you rock back and forth on the heels of your feet as you ponder. This time of day – too late for lunch, and too early for dinner – it’s likely to be just you in there. This could be good: you could be able to eat quickly and quietly, in and out. Or it could be awful: everyone who works there could whisper about you behind their hands, talking about the odd foreigner with the too-loud voice and too-crooked accent, always a beat behind the conversation. As the seconds tick on your thoughts turn towards dread, and you make to turn away instead.
“Hey,” says a voice. You startle.
The man standing behind you is dressed in what must be the uniform of the shop, black pants and black shirt with the Onigiri Miya logo embroidered on the breast. He smiles at you, crooked and reassuring. Says something in the most heavily accented Japanese you’ve ever heard – not that it’s much of a competition – and you blink at him. He must not be from Tokyo, then – must be from a rural prefecture – although where, you certainly couldn’t hazard a guess.
The realization – how much of a stranger you are, even in this country that should know and be known by you – fills you with hot, irrational shame.
“I’m sorry!” you squeak, bowing to him, shoulders so high they’re almost touching your ears. You turn and flee without a backwards glance.
____
The next day, a little calmer, a little clearer-headed, you think through it again and realize that fleeing was almost certainly the absolute weirdest thing you could’ve done.
He must think I’m such a freak, you mourn, chopping the green onions with a little more force than necessary. Such a weirdo. What kind of person stands in front of a store for minutes on end, and then when an employee comes to help you, runs away? What kind of person –
“Hey,” your cousin says, dropping her bag by the door. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve just lost all your life savings and your house burned down in a fire. What’s wrong?”
It all spills out, then – the streets, the store, the man, his polite confusion. How you had essentially run away. She blinks at you, nonplussed.
“Oh… kay,” she says, finally. “Listen, I’m not gonna pretend that was a super weird thing to do –”
You moan, setting down your knife to bury your face in your arms. It’s nice here – dark. Safe. Quiet. Maybe you should never leave.
“But,” she says firmly, “the way I see it, you have two options. Number one, live on forever in shame, knowing for the rest of your life that man will be thinking about the weirdo who showed up at his store and then ran away for the rest of his life. You will forever be Weird Runaway Girl to him. Like some fucked-up version of Cinderella.”
You bury your face deeper.
“Number two, you go apologize. And it’s weird and maybe super awkward but then it’s over and you have closure and you never have to see him again.”
You inhale. Exhale. “Can’t I just get deported,” you say into the crook of your elbow. The words come out muffled but she must hear you anyway, patting your back semi-awkwardly.
“We’ll call that Plan C,” she says, before rolling her sleeves up. “Here. What else needs chopping?”
The next day you make your excuses to your aunt – not telling her about the Great Onigiri Miya Debacle, because having one other person know about it is already embarrassing enough – and set off on your own again, attempting to retrace your steps. Somehow you make enough wrong turns and backtracks that when you make it back it’s almost the same time of day it was yesterday. You pause when you catch sight of the storefront banner fluttering the breeze, hands fisted in the hem of your shirt.
“Just go in,” you mutter to yourself. “Apologize. Then you’ll be done with this and no one has to know ever again.”
“It’s you again,” a familiar voice says, half-confused and half-amused, and for a second the idea of getting deported becomes more appealing than anything else in the world.
“It’s me again,” you agree bleakly. “I’m sorry – would you mind – speaking a little slower? My Japanese – it’s not –”
“‘Course not,” he says, voice a little more enunciated, the deep bass of it picking carefully through the syllables, and you finally gain the willpower to peek up at him. He’s rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, a little abashed. What he could possibly have to be embarrassed about when the sum total of your interactions with him have been 1) you running away from him and 2) you telling him he talks too fast, you’re not sure, but it fills you with an odd amount of confidence.
“Sorry,” you say again. “I just – I wanted to –”
He pauses, regards you regarding him. His cap is slightly askew. You want to reach out and adjust it. You want to see if his hair is as soft as it looks. (You want to file a restraining order against yourself, on his behalf. Before it’s too late.)
“Why don’tcha come in?” he says finally. “We’re closed right now, but I’ll make ya something.”
Closed –!
All of this and they’d been closed this time of day anyways. What an absolutely humiliation of a punchline.
Face burning, you follow him in.
“Have ya had onigiri before?” he asks, flicking the lights on, the air conditioning humming to life. You watch him tie an apron around his waist. Normally a question like that would make you flush with embarrassment – of course you’ve had onigiri before, you’re not that much of an alien – but something about the way he says it, the drawl of it. Something about the sleepy-slow light of the store, pale wood and tables gold-lit by the sunlight.
“Yes,” you say. “But really only mostly from konbinis.”
“The best kind,” he says. “We used t’ get those after school all the time. Walk home together eating ‘em.”
Your childhood had involved nothing of the sort, but you can imagine it – the long walk home. A boy jumping up, hand outstretched, to slap the leaves of a tree’s low-hanging branch. You hum. He washes his hands, salts them. You watch as a clump of rice begins to take shape between them.
“Yours aren’t the best?”
He grins at you. “No, they are,” he says readily. Watching him in the summer light, you’re inclined to believe him. “Just a different kind of best, ‘s all.”
“You didn’t grow up in Tokyo,” you say. More an observation than a question, but he hums assent anyways.
“‘M from Hyogo. That’s why my Japanese sounds all funny – it’s the Kansai-ben.” He does not ask where you’re from. You’re grateful even as you hate yourself a little for it. It’s not that you’re ashamed, really. More like you’ve spent your life as one kind of other and it is less pleasant than you imagined it would be, to suddenly find yourself as the exact opposite but still on the outskirts.
“Sorry,” you say, abrupt. “For… for…”
“The running?” he asks. He doesn’t look up at you, focusing on the rice between his hands. “‘S okay. Ya had places to be.”
At the time the only place you’d had to be was away from here, but you recognize the out for what it is and take it gratefully. “Still. I imagine it was pretty startling.”
He shrugs. “I have a twin brother who does weird shit all the time. I’ve gotten kinda used to it.”
You have to laugh a little at that, and his eyes flick up to yours, looking – maybe you’re imagining it – pleased at the sound. “‘M Miya Osamu,” he says.
“You own this place!” you say, delighted but mostly unsurprised – something about the way he holds himself in this space gives it away – before hurrying to introduce yourself. He repeats your name to himself, as if testing how the syllables feel in his mouth.
“‘S a good name,” he says. Places the onigiri in front of you. “‘A plain one, to start. Want ya to be able to taste our rice. Next time you come I’ll make you something different.”
There’s a flush of delight in your chest at the next time. Obediently you pick it up, feeling the heft of it in your hands.
The rice is soft and good and a little bit like childhood, the ache of it. The lingering sweetness. You tell Osamu as much, and he grins at you, satisfied. “‘S my old senpai who grows the rice,” he says. “If anyone knows good rice, ‘s him.”
“He does,” you say fervently. The rice is sticky and filling and you’re definitely getting grains on your face but it’s hard to care – it’s simple food, but it’s good, and it’s oddly comforting for food from a restaurant you’ve never been to before in your entire life.
Osamu wipes down the counter, watching you eat out of the corner of his eye. He seems oddly pleased by how much you’re enjoying the food. When you tell him as much, he grins, a little sheepish.
“I want the people who come here t’ eat well,” he says. “Good food is better food when it’s shared.”
You smile at him, a little tentative. “Thanks for sharing this with me.”
“Thanks for sharing it with me,” he says back, then shoos you out without letting you pay. “Next time,” he says, and you let him tuck your credit card back in your wallet and your wallet back in your pocket.
Your cousin eyes you over the dinner table, but doesn’t say anything about the secret smile at the curve of your lips. In her bedroom that night all she says is “Okay?”
“Okay,” you agree. It is summer, and you have nothing but time.
When you visit again the next day the store is already open. You can see him through the windows, and it’s enough to make your lips tug up again in an involuntary smile as you step through the doorframe.
“Hi,” you say, a little shy, suddenly. A little envious of how grounded he seems, here in this space.
“Hi,” he says back, jerking his chin at the counter. “Wanna sit?”
It’s umeboshi filling that day, plum tart on your teeth. Tuna mayo the next. Unagi the day after, and he slowly takes you through the menu, watching your face keenly as you eat each one.
The month passes slowly, honey-dripped and sweet. You tell your aunt that you’ve made a friend, maybe, and watch as her face splits in a smile that makes her look years younger. When you were little your mother used to tell you she could see the resemblance between the two of you. Now, more than anything, you want it to be true.
“Not a fan, huh,” Osamu says on the day he gives you uni-topped onigiri – unigiri, he’d joked as he’d handed it to you. One of our experimental ones, ya know? – and you blink at him. You’d gotten good at hiding your discomfort with the texture.
Osamu clicks his tongue at you, the sound both disapproving and fond. “Don’t make yerself eat it,” he chides, sliding it away from you. “I’ll make ya another one.”
“Oh – no, you don’t have to, it’s okay, I couldn’t –”
He reaches over and carefully flicks you on the forehead. “I know I don’t hafta,” he says easily. “But I wanna. I want ya to eat well.”
Abashed, you watch as he makes you another one. The careful press of his fingers. The arch of his wrist.
“My parents are from here,” you say suddenly into the silence. He glances up at you, but doesn’t say anything.
“From Japan, I mean. They left the country before they had me.”
“Where’d they go?”
You tell him, and he whistles, low. “‘S a long ways away.”
“It is,” you say. “Makes traveling hard. I haven’t – haven’t been back here since I was little.”
“Ya got family here?”
“An aunt – my mom’s sister. Her husband. Their daughter. A few other relatives, though I think those are scattered around Japan. I don’t know them too well.”
He hums, considering. “Didja like it? Where you grew up?”
You think about it. About a sepia-toned childhood, about wide streets and dry summer grass, pricking your skin.
“I was very well-loved,” you tell him. “But I was still – I think I was still lonely.”
Osamu nods. “Ya know my twin, Atsumu? When we were in high school we played volleyball t’gether. ‘Tsumu sorta – I think he took it for granted that we were gonna play together forever. That we’d always want the same things. Took a long time for me to be brave enough to tell him I wanted to do this – ” he gestures to the shop around him. “ – for a living. Took me even longer to stop bein’ so mad at him that I had to tell him in the first place. That he didn’t know me as well as I wanted him to.”
He finishes making another onigiri. Pushes it over to you. Then rounds the counter and sits next to you, picking up the first one he’d made you, the one delicate bite taken out of it.
“And now?” you ask.
Osamu, partway through a bite of your abandoned onigiri, freezes mid-chew. He swallows. “And now?” he echoes.
“And now? Do you think he knows you?”
He snorts. “That idiot would need to get his head out of his own ass, first.” He pauses, considers you. “But. I think these days ‘m less worried ‘bout being known perfectly.”
You blink over at him. He’s turning the half-eaten remnants of the onigiri over and over between his hands. On instinct, you reach over and place a hand on his. The skin of it, the bone of it. The pull of tendon and the flex of muscle and the fluttering pulse.
He doesn’t look at you. Under your fingertips a muscle jumps, then quickly relaxes.
“These days,” he says, “‘M much happier t’be loved. In spite of all the parts of me he doesn’t understand.”
You think about this, even as he pops the last of his onigiri in his mouth. “Come out with me, tonight,” he says.
“To where?”
He shrugs. “M’friends are in town. Want you to meet ‘em. Even ‘Tsumu will be there, though can’t guarantee he’ll behave.”
“This is the brother that does weird shit?”
Osamu rolls his eyes heavenwards. “Yeah, ‘n I’ve only got the one brother, thank God. Would be willin’ to bet our ma saw how he acted ‘n decided it was enough for her.”
You tactfully avoid mentioning that Osamu himself would probably have been a factor in that decision, if that were the case. Instead you busy yourself with the onigiri in your hands, fiddling with it, breaking off one of the corners before catching yourself. Osamu always laughs at you when you do that. Quit playing with yer food, he’d said once, flicking you gently on the forehead. The mark hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes. The feeling stayed for days.
“Come out with us,” he says, again. His eyes, when you peek at them, are gray and the steady of a long winter.
“Okay,” you say, without much thinking. It’s almost worth it to see the crows’ feet at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.
You stuff another bite of rice in your mouth to avoid the thought.
____
Us turns out to be Osamu himself, of course, broad-shouldered and dependable and somehow uniquely capable of being a pain in the ass; Suna Rintarou, a sleepy-eyed man with the worst posture you’ve ever seen and a unique talent for instigating; and Miya Atsumu, the infamous Miya Atsumu, with brassy-blond hair that must come from a bottle and a voice pitched at exactly the right frequency to be as annoying as possible.
“What a funny accent!” is the first thing Atsumu says upon meeting you, grinning in a way that, if he weren’t Osamu’s brother, you would call a leer. “This is the cute little foreigner ya’ve been tellin’ us about, then, huh, ‘Samu?”
Calmly, without surrendering his grip on the tongs he’s been using to grill, Osamu smacks his brother upside the head with his free hand, hard enough to make him pout. “Just ignore –” he begins to say to you, apologetic.
“You should stop dying your hair yourself,” you say to Atsumu, frowning at him over the table. The smell of the yakiniku is a sore temptation – never mind that it hasn’t finished cooking, according to Osamu – and you can readily admit to yourself that the hunger is making you more irritable than you’d be otherwise. “You’re frying it, and besides, the color is awful. You can’t tell me you were going for that shade on purpose, were you?”
At the sound of his twin’s spluttering noises Osamu starts to laugh – a borderline cackle, mean-spirited and still somehow so lovely. He laughs like how Atsumu does, you realize. There’s something very lovely about it.
To distract yourself from that thought you grab a too-hot piece of meat with your chopsticks and shove it in your mouth. It burns your tongue but rather than spit it out, you shovel in a load of rice, to counteract it, and pray you don’t choke.
Suna watches you with the kind of fascination that you’d thought previously reserved for seeing a particularly exotic zoo animal for the first time.
“I can see why he likes you,” he remarks, absentmindedly.
What do you mean, you try and say. There’s too much rice in your mouth. You choke.
Osamu somehow manages to simultaneously pat you on the back, put more meat on your plate, and punch Suna’s shoulder at the same time. You resolve to study his abnormal skill at multitasking at a later date. “Y’alright?”
“Fine,” you gasp, trying your best to take a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
Conversation flows smoothly. It’s all-too-easy to tell that they’ve known each other for years, falling into a rapport that’s clearly practiced. It’s even easier to let yourself get swept along in the banter, to pretend that you, too, have known them for years, that the lives they’ve painstakingly carved out for themselves here have always had space for you, too.
It’s an achingly sweet thought. You refuse to let yourself dwell on it for long.
Osamu insists on walking you home. “‘S almost two in the morning,” he says, “‘sides, I’ve had about enough of him –” he jerks a thumb at his brother, now slumped against Suna’s side, whining about something or other about their volleyball careers (a botched serve, maybe?) while the latter pokes and prods at him.
You consider this. “Yeah,” you say. “Fair enough.”
Outside the air is warm and Osamu’s presence by your side is warmer. “Thanks for inviting me,” you say to him. The words feel inadequate, for all that he’d let you pretend tonight, even though he couldn’t have been aware of it.
“Thanks for comin’,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “They liked ya.”
“You think?”
“I know,” he says, firm. “They wouldn’t spend so much time teasin’ someone they didn’t like.”
The thought suffuses you with an oddly warm glow. You duck your chin into your chest, hoping he doesn’t notice. If he does he doesn’t mention it.
“Are ya comin’ by the store tomorrow?” he asks, and you hum, affirmative.
“It might be the last time, before I go.” Saying it out loud is somehow both better and worse.
“Ah,” Osamu says. You walk in silence for a few beats, footsteps falling in time.
“Come by tomorrow,” he repeats – a statement this time, not a question. You nod anyways, and he walks you right up to your front door, lingering there as if waiting for something.
“Goodnight, ‘Samu,” you say. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See ya tomorrow,” he affirms, but makes no move to leave. You frown at him. He pulls a face right back, half-mocking, half in deliberation.
In one fell move he takes the cap off of your head and puts it on yours. It fits strangely – your heads must be too dissimilar of a shape. You would go to sleep wearing it if you could.
“Goodnight,” you say again, dumbly.
Osamu’s smile in the moonlight is sharp and a little something else, something you can't read. “G’night,” he says. When he turns to leave the streetlights make the black of his hair look almost blue.
Your cousin, when you slip back up to her room, is still awake. The glow of her smartphone lets you see the jaw-creaking yawn she lets out when she sees you.
“Tadaima,” you say, quiet.
“Okaeri,” she mumbles.
“Sleep well,” you add, but she’s already set her phone on the nightstand, breaths slipping into something quiet and even, as if the only permission she’d been waiting for was the sound of your footsteps at the doorway. You are so full of love you think you could choke on it.
The next day when you show up to Onigiri Miya there’s no onigiri waiting for you. You deliberate feeling betrayed for a second before Osamu steps out of the back, throws a wad of fabric at you. You just barely manage to catch it, uncrumpling it to reveal an apron.
“An apron,” you say.
He grins. “Nice hat.”
You flush almost immediately, resisting the urge to tuck your chin into your chest – it would really only make the hat more visible. “Thanks,” you mutter. “Apron?”
He swings open the gate dividing the front of the restaurant and the kitchen. “You wanna learn?”
The prospect of this world opening up to you leaves you feeling more trepidation than anything. You slip the apron over your head, tie the strings around your waist. “Do I look professional?”
“That’s a Michelin-star chef right there,” Osamu says.
And he’s right, in a way – if ‘Michelin-star chef’ meant ‘uniquely creative in one’s ability to mess up’. The rice doesn’t clump. It sticks to your hands. You grab it when it’s too hot and burn yourself, even through the gloves. You salt your hands too liberally. You don’t salt your hands enough. The clumps of filling are too large. You shape it too firmly and it all falls apart, crumbling in your hands. The remains of your failures are scattered all over the kitchen – “Don’t worry,” Osamu had told you, “I’ll feed ‘em to ‘Tsumu.” – by the time you have one half-presentable one. Half-presentable as in not falling apart. Mostly not falling apart. You cup it in your hands with all the reverence one would hold a baby bird that’d fallen out of its tree.
Osamu plucks it out of your hands. Inspects the way it sags between his fingers. “Huh,” he says.
“Huh?” you parrot, hopeful. He ignores you, taking a bite. Chews. Swallows. The expression on his face is inscrutable.
“Tastes surprisingly good,” he says.
“Thank you! I – what do you mean, surprisingly?”
Osamu grins. “We’ll make a chef outta you yet.”
The afternoon is spent at his side. “Packin’ an order,” he says. “Wanna help?” You make one onigiri to every five of his, determined to neaten up your technique, but it’s fun anyways.
“Why onigiri?” you ask him, frowning down at the mass in your hands. “Why not – I don’t know, ramen or yakisoba or something?”
He hums. His hands are steady and large and careful. “I mean, for starters, I like eatin’ ‘em.”
You wait for him to continue. Eventually: “They’re a simple food. Nothin’ fancy. No crazy ingredients. No one’s gonna get a Michelin star for doin’ the stuff I do.”
“Except me,” you say, and Osamu lets out a bark of laughter.
“Except you,” he agrees. “But they’re a comfort food, y’know? I told you we used to get ‘em from the konbini on our way home from practice. Or – for lunch, sometimes, I used t’ make bentos for me n’ ‘Tsumu. The first thing I learned t’make was onigiri. My ma taught me.”
“You love them a lot.”
He scrunches up his nose, displeased. “Not like I’d ever tell ‘Tsumu,” he says. “But – well. ‘f course I was gonna make him food. ‘f course I was gonna learn from my ma. ‘S just what we do.”
The depth of it – the quiet love, the steadiness – leaves you a little breathless. Osamu keeps his eyes fixed firmly on his hands, although you’re certain he doesn’t need to.
“I was – such a lonely child,” you say. He knows this already. You’d told him this already.
He finishes shaping the rice in his hands, deliberate. Strips his gloves off. “Wanna go sit on the steps outside?”
Outside the sun is setting, and the sky is streaked with color. You sit shoulder to shoulder and watch the people pass by.
“I can’t imagine,” he says, “growing up so far away.” Far away from what, he doesn’t elaborate. You know what he means anyways.
You think about your hometown, think about the summers and the smell of chlorine, the winters and the whole world muffled and still. Think about the wide-open sky. How close and how far away it all felt, all at once.
“There were good parts,” you say.
“There must’ve been,” Osamu says. “Look at how you turned out.”
“It was very – very far,” you say, “from the people that were supposed to love me no matter what I did.”
He hums. The crickets are beginning to sound. You dread to think about the mosquito bites you’ll find on your skin tomorrow.
“I – it’s not that I’m not grateful,” you say, because you are. “Not that I’m not grateful for the things I have. The life I’ve built.”
“I know,” he says.
“I know I’m lucky to be where I am. To have grown up where I did, in the way I did. My parents wanted the best for me. They gave up a lot for it.”
“Probably,” he agrees.
“And maybe – maybe I’m romanticizing it. Painting living here as something a lot grander than it is. But – ”
In another life you are sitting in your cousin’s bedroom and listening to her wax poetic about some topic neither of you will remember in the morning. It’s late but in this life you’re young and the moon is full and reassuring. In another life the most intimate way you know your family’s faces is not reduced down to three pixels. In another life each street of this city holds a different memory. In another life you know this place like breathing.
“I could’ve lived here,” you say. “I could’ve had this.”
Osamu regards you, considering. In a way it’s almost a relief, that he’s neither quick to assure or to laugh in outright disbelief.
“You could’ve,” he says at last. “I think you still can.”
“It’ll never be like it could’ve been,” you warn.
“No,” Osamu says, affable. “But I think we could still make it good.”
He offers you his hand. You take it.
“Hungry?” Osamu asks. You consider this, the feel of his hand in yours. You picture: standing outside of his store and watching him, gentle and careful and good, with his callused hands and his patient smile. Here are hands that were made to hold.
In this dream you step inside, and he looks up at the sound of the door.
Welcome, he says to you. You know what he means by it.
In a few days there will be a plane seat with your name on it – an ocean and everything that lies between. Still, it’s summer – here and now and the rest of your lives – and you have nothing but time. Summer, and there is a space for you at the table.
You grin at Osamu, squeeze his hand. He squeezes back: once, twice, three times.
“I could eat.”
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