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felicitywrites · 24 days

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run, hope, run! | jungkook x reader [01]

synopsis: painting daisies on your wall that separated your haven from the rest of the world was jungkook, the boy whose hands were delicate as the heart you once had - the boy you waited hundreds of mornings for by the dumpster in the back of his grandfather’s garage, all while yelling at him through the crack in his window for missing homeroom again.

the doe-eyed sweetheart you thought you’d spend countless spring afternoons with, but then seasons changed - and you’re scared he did too.

pairing: artist!jungkook x named!reader

genre: 40% angst, 40% fluff, 20% smut

theme: an entire plot out of the word, midsummer, which means,

n. a feast celebrated on the day of your 26th birthday, which marks the point at which your youth finally expires as a valid excuse—when you must begin harvesting your crops, even if they’ve barely taken root—and the point at which the days will begin to feel shorter as they pass, until even the pollen in the air reminds you of the coming snow © thoughtcatalog

warnings: bittersweet memories of a childhood through flashbacks, teenage angst, what it feels like being in the friend zone, graphic descriptions of a crime (jk yn were witnesses as children), tiger parenting (let’s not tolerate this), and lastly, smut

status: ONGOING

word count: 3.7k

song recs: little league - conan gray | worlds apart - wallows | your eyes tell - bts | still with you - jungkook

taglist: @awseokjin @chimmy_licious @landl7xoxo @aalz @quechulitaaa @whoa-jo let me know if you wish to be added!

[00] [01] [02] [03]... and so on?

Eight years ago. October 31st, 4:05 PM

[jung]: are we really doing this?

[jeon]: yes, you know why we should

[jung]: what about grandpa?

[jung]: what if cherry doesn’t come back??

[jeon]: you worry too much, i got it, ok? :)

[jung]: uh, okay, so i’ll see you at the dock then

[jeon]: let me just finish this, see you, jung.

[jung]: i’ll wait for you

Present day. 9:15 AM

“And why aren’t you downstairs yet?”

You kick off the comforter enough for your face to be seen. Instantly, you are blinded by the sunlight from across the room. You have to remind yourself to rearrange the bedroom when you get home.

When will that be, anyway?

“Should we really leave this early? It’s not like we’re even part of the main guestlist..” you question, finally sitting up to roll your hair into a bun, then reach for your clamp at the foot of the bed with your free hand.

You notice how it’s unusually quiet. This isn’t a normal Saturday morning in the neighborhood, especially at the residence. Your roommate is patiently waiting next to you, standing with her arms crossed.

Clearly, she’s getting pissed. You’re supposed to be at the lobby by exactly 9 o’clock in the morning, and it’s been fifteen minutes since she made the first unanswered call.

You can’t even remember where you put your phone last night. The thought of leaving for vacation somehow felt overwhelming, to the point where you needed to drink it away, the very night before the scheduled trip.

Celine can’t blame you, though. How could she, when the said vacation is a result of your embarrassing loss to an Uno game over a week ago.

And the agreed destination is none other than Springfield.

The small town you were born and raised in.

The place you left—and nearly forgot, until you saw it on the news on the night of the game between you and the housemates.

‘Springfield Art Festival commences this Friday, March 22, and for the first time in its history, the small town is opening FREE access tickets to all events—a gesture Mayor Lee is returning to the public who have been nothing but supportive of Springfield’s consistent growth in terms of—”

“Damn, what growth is he even talking about..”

“Seriously, Hope, if you don’t start moving I’m leaving without you. There’s no way you’re getting any chance at a good bus seat, let alone a ticket. All trips via train have been booked too.”

You’re running to the bathroom before Celine says another word, and was able to even catch your towel mid-air when she decided to throw it at you.

Shower thoughts and a nearly empty body wash bottle are your worst enemies, but you have no other options right now.

To start with, Jeon. It actually feels weird that he’s crossing your mind now, of all days. This is why you try your best to avoid talking or seeing anything related to Springfield. Everything about it reminds you of him.

Oh boy. You can’t be thinking about him in the shower. What are you, 18?

Eight years ago. That’s how long you haven’t seen that boy. Jeon Jungkook. Isn’t it strange how one second, you knew all about him—next thing you know, there’s nothing that you remember?

Maybe that’s not the case. Maybe, you’ve just spent too much time away that you don’t even recall his birthday.

What an idiot, Hope. You were born on the same day.

“Hope, should I ask my nail tech to come by so I can get my extensions fixed? How long do you plan on doing your ‘routine’ there, anyway? You do know it’s been eight years since, and there’s a chance Jeon doesn’t remember what you look like, right? It’s not like he’d even care if you haven’t gone back to your monthly facial treatment—”

SLAM.

“Will you shut that filthy mouth of yours now?”

Isn’t it funny how eight years ago, you had the most introverted best friend, with a humor only you tolerated, and now you got this rambunctious, red-haired lady, who believes in the power of your birth chart?

Sometimes, it’s hard to simply thank her for accidentally picking you up at the terminal when you arrived, lost and utterly exhausted after a rough 5-mile walk, and a 5-hour train ride. Or the fact that despite her mistake, she still offered to give you a ride to a nearby hotel.

You were eighteen, barely out of high school, with no concrete plan—just a gigantic luggage, a duffel bag, and a loaded backpack with you. Not to mention the emotional baggage you had to carry along.

At this point, giving Celine a hug is already considered an act of showing gratitude. You mean well, you always have.

Maybe this trip shouldn’t be treated as a punishment over a silly little game.

What if this is what is meant for you, after all these years?

“Who thinks of a boat ride as an escape? Did Jeon think he was in a movie or something?”

When you are a teenager with raging hormones, and complicated emotions; you tend to romanticize every little thing you do. There’s satisfaction in living in a fantasy you decided to create for yourself.

Since you were a child, you escaped reality through art—and not just any art. In addition to Jungkook’s craft as a color prodigy, as his grandpa would call him, his creative mind was your solace.

He let you navigate within the walls he built around his existence. With his artworks spread throughout his grandparents’ home, to his very own mini gallery inside the school library, you were a regular—almost its caretaker.

So when he lazily told you his plan over the phone, of the boat ride to the train station, you paid no mind to the atrocity of the idea itself. You didn’t even consider the stuff you had to bring with you.

From your metaphorical getaway to run from your sick reality for a while, to an actual escape leaving everything behind but him, you didn’t take a moment to reevaluate.

To realize what you were unconsciously asking him to sacrifice for you.

“I asked him to run away with me, I didn’t think he’d say yes. That kid always thought life was colorful.. I guess I couldn’t blame him for thinking a boat ride was better than just asking Jimin to drive us there since it’s in the middle of the night.”

Celine pulls over at your first pit stop. Seatbelts off, you let out a heavy sigh at the thought of another old friend.

“Funny how I think if Jimin actually drove you, then I wouldn’t have picked you up… wrongfully,” she says, casually zipping her bag open to take two cans of instant cold brew.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” you exclaim, putting it into perspective. If you were able to leave Springfield the only correct way, then you would’ve arrived on time.

You wouldn’t have met Celine, or any of the housemates, also known as her family whom she preferred to call ‘housemates’ as a clear separation. Her family is Springfield for you.

“Speaking of Jimin, you were just emailing him, right? How’s he? Did you tell him we’re coming?” she asks, nose scrunched up after the first sip of coffee.

You shake your head, “I can’t. He’s a blabbermouth. Likes to announce things for no reason.”

“To spite you. That’s a good reason. I mean, you cooked that stupid plan with Jeon and decided to leave Jimin out of it when he’s the one with all the resources. You underestimated the dude.”

You frown, quick to defend yourself. “You’re siding with him.. And what do you mean we left him out, he’s the first one I told about it! Heck, we lived in the same house for years, he knew how sick I got of the town.”

“You sound like my mom, jeez. Have some donuts here.”

Silence fills the air as you choose to eat the frustrations away. Somehow, Celine’s right. You had the option to leave not Jimin, but Jungkook out of that plan. If you were not prideful enough, you could’ve asked the Parks for help.

Jungkook didn’t have to suffer along with you.

If he ever did suffer, that is. Eight years is a long time for a boy like Jeon Jungkook to linger on baggage from his late teens. He’s too optimistic for that.

“He did stay in Springfield, all of them did,” you say, as matter-of-factly. “Only I kicked myself out, when no one wanted me there anymore.”

Celine knows you too well to not notice how the closer you’re getting to your hometown, the farther you’re leaving from yourself.

But honestly speaking, which version of yourself is the real one?

Is it the person you have become over the last eight years, or the 18-year old version of you still unknowingly, and irreparably broken from a past that was never your fault in the first place?

7:10 PM

[unknown]: celine shared her location

[unknown]: see you, i guess?

[you]: who are you

[unknown]: too lazy to email, it’s hectic out here you know?!

[you]: park?

[unknown]: this is what happens when you switch best friends

[you]: don’t tell anyone, especially HIM!

[unknown]: who lol jeon jungkook, we don’t know him ;)

[you]: ok maybe tell jurin!!

[minnie]: yup, told her, we’ll be at lucia’s

“You got a knife right in front of me, how unimpressive.”

Celine smirks, turning around to hide her villainous streak. You roll your eyes, deciding better to focus on hauling your stuff out of the compartment.

You try to ignore the ache on your back you garnered from sitting for ten hours straight. If a plane ticket isn’t difficult to book, you could’ve chosen the extremely better choice.

The last thing you wanted was to get stuck on the road for hours during festival season.

“Tell them, traffic is horrible, “ you tell her. Celine looks up at you from her phone screen, “Why so? Would they be upset that we came late?”

You nod, “Yes and no. You just said Jimin had the resources. He could’ve asked for a private plane for us.”

“Eh? He’s that rich?”

“I thought you Googled him enough..”

“I.. I did! But a private fucking plane? Do they have their own hangar and runway at home?”

“The airport is quite close, but yeah, Hope’s right. I told them you took the road because you had to drop something by the next town over.”

An oddly familiar voice caught you by surprise. Both you and Celine halt in your steps.

“This can’t be…”

“Welcome back, Hope.”

“Park Jimin..” you mutter under your breath. Celine, just as in shock as you are, has her words hung in her throat. You almost forgot your roommate’s big girl crush on your old friend.

“Hello, Celine. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”

Jimin and politeness don’t fit in the same sentence. They never have. Yet he’s right there standing across from you, a hand in his pocket, the other extended out for a handshake.

The smile plastered on his face is eerily bright, so as his skin in the dimly lit entrance of Lucia’s, his family-owned hotel restaurant.

What a weird start to this dreaded trip, you think to yourself.

Celine recovers, and happily accepts his hand. The girl fails to hide the blush on her cheeks, and you just know her knees are shaking from the proximity.

Jimin used to be charming. Well, you can’t lie, he’s a million times more charming now. You give him a do-over and notice a 360 fashion-wise.

He was a sporty little kid, then a teenage rockstar. Now, he’s like the guys you see in a Zara ad. White knitted sweater, loosely tucked-in his black trousers. And how can you miss out on the white Gucci sneakers?

“Where’s the leather, Park?”

You can’t forgive yourself for saying that out loud, but the reaction he gives you is enough to tell you that he’s still the Minnie your mom used to nanny, and the same boy you practically grew up with along with Jungkook.

“People change, Miss Jung. Get over it.”

You appreciate the extra sass in his tone, and while Celine is officially unreachable after being absorbed by the man’s presence, you take a minute to look around.

Always living up to its reputation, this little town.

The foot traffic is pretty intense from a distance. You’re thankful Lucia’s Hotel seems to have been exempted in holding any free-for-all event, as you can easily count the people hanging around outside.

From where the hotel stood, you have the perfect view of the city, meant for tourists who certainly have no clue whatsoever on what goes on in such a picture-perfect town.

You didn’t condition yourself to feel this way about Springfield, but is indifference really the opposite of love?

And as Jimin guides you inside the hotel lobby to where his family is gathered, you have a thousand different thoughts crowding your mind at once. It’s hard to concentrate on one, yet one thing they have in common is that you’re aimlessly searching for someone in every face you meet on the way.

You recount the Springfield Art Festivals you celebrated with Jungkook, and Lucia’s Hotel was never on his must-see list. You had it, though. Only because you and your mom owed your life to the people who built this place, and basically seventy-percent of the town.

It’s them, and Jungkook—the answer to why you came back. And why you left in the first place.

Ten years ago

“Mom is not gonna make it out alive. I can’t get her to stop working, but she needs rest. That’s what Parks’ doctor told me.”

Jungkook paused on mixing his chosen paint colors. “What about finding her a specialist? I’m sure Mrs. Park knows someone who can recommend the best in the field.”

“Are you joking? How can we afford that, huh.”

“She’s an employee? Of course she has a health card, right?”

“She thinks she’s immortal. And I’m a minor, so I can't sign the papers on her behalf. She needs to consent to every checkup. I’m running out of options here, Jeon.”

With every careful swipe of his brush on the canvas, Jungkook was silently formulating a plan for you. It’s the limit of what he could do, other than considering selling his paintings to gather money and offer you a hundred percent of it.

Which you will surely hate him for doing, so he must think it through.

He tried to ask you what you were planning to do, as he knew you didn’t come to him for advice. But a suggestion wouldn’t hurt anyone, and when it came to him, you were always appreciative.

You could only give him a shrug, and that’s it.

No plans.

Your pride was through the roof, that’s true. And even though Jungkook was fully aware, he couldn’t help but consult the matter with Jimin the next day.

“That’s a reach, don’t you think? We can’t do it all for her. She’ll hate us for it,” Jimin said, tossing Jungkook the basketball he only ever touched if the boy was the one asking him to play.

“She’ll hate me?” Jungkook asked, the thought causing a lump in his throat to form.

“Probably not you. Well, knowing Hope… She’ll hate herself for losing her mom, and hate herself even more if we provide her a shortcut to resolve her problem.”

“She’s so stubborn, ah, can we just sit down?”

“You’re no fun sometimes, Jeon.”

“Thanks? But what should we do now..”

“Maybe I’ll try talking to her mom? Convince her to do a checkup?”

“You’ll do that? And me?”

Jimin sighed, “Hmm, start waking up early, exercise, be a good best friend to her. I don’t know. Act normal? She’s quick-witted, she’ll know we have some sort of plan behind her back.”

“What? Are you saying I’m not a good—”

“Come on, Jeon. She loves you to death. I just think it’s best if you stay out of it, she can hate me, but she can’t hate you.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Only you can save her, Jungkook.”

Present day. 10:00 PM

[jimin]: is she asleep now?

[celine]: yeah, thanks jimin <3 have a good night, see you tomorrow

[celine]: and by the way, jungkook…

how different is he now? I remember what your sister said

[jimin]: he stopped painting, the rest is for hope to figure out, though i think it’s better for her not to talk to him if she’s not ready

Celine lets her body fall flat on the bed, eyes on the ceiling. She didn’t want to think of this as a bad idea when she agreed to it as a punishment over losing an Uno match.

Yet as she recounted the conversations exchanged during the dinner, until the drinks were served after, and the shift in Hope’s demeanor at every mention of Jungkook’s name;

She badly wanted to drive her back home.

This is the first night of Hope’s return to Springfield, the first out of sixty days, and Celine is regretting every little and big decision she made that led her to this moment.

Although, the silly thing is, her crush might be an excuse to stay. Or Hope’s silent deterimination? I mean, she seems headstrong, maybe she’s truly, honestly alright with this?

[jimin]: stop overthinking, celine, we’ll be here for her

[celine]: right right, sorry

[celine]: i should go shower, thanks again

[jimin]: haha go you stink, i was right, you’re prettier than the pictures

[celine]: what pictures?!?!?!?!

[jimin]: LOL hope emailed me a few, i’ll show you tomorrow

Celine groans loud enough for you to stir in your sleep, she panics, cautiously steps away from the bed as possible as she makes her way to the bathroom.

Hours went by pretty fast, and you woke up by an alarm you forgot to shut off. Luckily, there’s a coffee nook in the presidential suite you were given by Jimin’s mom at Lucia’s, and you find yourself silently enjoying the midnight air on the balcony.

You take out your phone to look at the pictures taken earlier, and a tight feeling of happiness grows within your chest, something you never expected before you came.

While it’s true that you used to love hearing your mom call the Parks your second family, there were a number of occasions where it was hard to feel at home around them.

And it wasn’t due to their moral upstanding. They’ve always been good, decent people, behind the glorified remarks told about them on paper, and in gossip on the streets.

It was more of a hidden, childish feeling of jealousy over how they never had to deal with such extremity to be able to live a life like you did.

You were in kindergarten when Mrs. Park met your mom at the supermarket where she worked as cashier.

Back then, you lived from paycheck to paycheck, and while it was only you and your mom she had to feed, she was in so much debt after a messy divorce with your dad.

Mrs. Park always remembered that day as a divine intervention, witnessing a mother like her to experience life completely the opposite way.

You sat in one of the push carts, playing with a stack of cassette tapes. The store manager seemingly upset by the situation, but was unable to offer any other help than let your mom tag you along at work.

Mrs. Park knew you were your mom’s kid the second you glanced at her. She said you reminded her of her childhood self she hid from everyone. To say she was humbled by what she saw was an insult, yet she had almost forgotten who she was before.

Even though she was lucky enough to be married to a rich family despite her status as a simple, educated college professor, people deemed her differently.

She worked hard, took care of her son and her husband, made sure the 2000-acre home was managed in the best way possible—yet the only thing acknowledged was her title.

It was sickening to see it occur outside the hundred-year old mansion she lived in, if not worse. How unfair it must be to suffer to live, and not be acknowledged at the same time?

She hired your mom on the spot, initially perceived by her peers as a play-pretend. People like them have to show up kind and empathic, but Mrs. Park has always been one herself.

Allowing both of you the entire guest house to yourself as your mom worked as house manager, on the other hand, was your mom’s own divine intervention.

They saved each other somehow.

It feels good to feel the same way about them after everything. None of them asked why you left, or insisted on making you stay for good.

They simply enjoyed having you again, hearing what you have accomplished after eight years.

You grip on the balustrade, your free hand still on your phone where a picture of you and Jimin is shown. There’s a small space on your side as seen in the photo, the framing a bit misplaced when Celine took it.

When you were here back then, there were always three people in pictures like this.

You, the one with the long black hair and resting bitch face, Jimin, with the hand poses and cheerful expressions, and Jungkook… with the usual awkward, but sweet smile.

As much as you don’t want to imagine what he could possibly be doing at this time of the night, you can’t help but feel it.

Springfield is nothing without him. It’s been beyond exhausting to close the door you left behind, with him still waiting on the other side of it.

God, you miss the boy. The place, the memories. You miss it despite the belongingness you struggled to feel then. Even with the isolation, and dissociation, you miss the boy who painted your young life in colors you refused to see.

You miss him, you miss your mom, the 18-year old Hope—why did you have to lose all of them in exchange for freedom?

Why did you have to leave them behind in order for you to grow?

“And when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. What do you call it, freedom or loneliness?” —-c.b.

a/n: i'm thinking of doing this a series? i suck at the twoshot idea i think loool and i just miss the tannies so much lately, i have to include them all in the storyline somehow. what do you think? i'm ready for your lovely messages x

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