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jiminrings · 1 month

Text

fail-safe; intermission 02.

wordcount: 2k

glimpse: you leave for the night, but hopefully for good in the future.

alternatively, jungkook offers you reprieve.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist

You’ve come to loathe your childhood home.

You’ve come to loathe your room and most especially your bed. You’ve come to hate the people who inhabit it in one way or another, whether it is to guard the door to it or sleep on it.

You detest the floor space that makes everyone who enters it regard it as cozy as if it’s an embrace that’s waiting solely for them. You despise the way it smells, the mix of what lived-in comes off as a scent seeming like an invitation for just about everyone.

The start and end to everything that has caused you immense pain in your life had something to do with your home. From the evident patriarch that’s missing in all your family photos, to how the outside doesn’t seem lavish compared to the facades of your classmates’ houses, to even the visitor that has been hellbent since day one to treat it as his very own — everything that has given you grief comes from the same place you’ve sworn up and down gave you nothing but comfort.

You don’t know where to place all your rage; you can’t even start unpacking everything you hold inside because there’s no space in a house so little to even tolerate you. It houses everything from a past (you’re not so sure of the tense) lover to offspring of said lover, but what your home can’t do is bear you–

Which is why you find yourself driving up to the big city, crashing into a room you know the most outside of your own space in your own house, just to stay for the night. It’s maintained to the state of when you’ve last been in it, the sight of the city below you reminding you that even for just a second, you could pretend that it’s your own home.

It’s your own space in the big city where there isn’t a brother whose loyalties don’t lie with you. It’s your own home wherein you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s intruding on everyone else in there because out of all of them, you’re the one who’s the least-adjusted when it comes to family. You’re above everyone, even if it’s just pretend, and in your few moments of peace, it comes. The click on the door comes, and you freeze up instantly.

What you didn’t expect is for the owner of it to actually come home.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, immediately straightening up your form on his couch. You didn’t even dare to put up your feet on his coffee table but with the way you react, he’d almost think you defiled it in ways he can’t even imagine. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t find any vacant hotels that could take me in such a short notice.”

There’s no confusion in Jungkook’s face. Surprise, sure, because he’s not used to anyone else having his key except for you, and when his eyes did settle to the light, his shock immediately dissipated. There’s no hostility. No arrogance, and no hint on his face telling you that you were unwelcome.

If anything, he looks warm.

“Oh come on, Y/N. You can crash anytime you’d like,” he laughs loudly once he figures that your startled expression looks amusing, the sound of his keys hitting the bowl snapping you out of your daze. “God knows you’ve saved my ass and let me crash in your house far too many times.”

Jungkook takes off his coat and hands you his own house slippers, sliding them from underneath your feet that you’re adamant to not put up anywhere else besides the floor.

You’re relieved for the most part, the guilt that you feel in your stomach creeping into your chest because Jungkook looks relaxed. Nonchalant, even, to know that you dropped into his home without even asking. It’s the total opposite of what you’ve felt seeing Yoongi do the same to you, the lone difference being Jungkook actually wanting you to be here.

“That’s because I’m your manager. That’s literally my work,” you sigh breathlessly, accepting the meal that he gives you sheepishly. You’d have to share with him because he wasn’t expecting anyone, but oddly enough, Jungkook’s more apologetic than you are because he didn’t check on you during your break. Your talent’s sorry because he didn’t anticipate you coming to him, and it’s a situation you’re completely unused to.

You’re not used to being on the receiving end of apologies.

“No, that’s beyond your work. A friend would do that. A manager would rat me out to the CEO and give me an ultimatum,” Jungkook corrects you, flipping his hair that’s grown out since his last project. The break the both of you are in on is literally the first throughout your whole careers, and the sudden reunion reminds you of the fact that he is correct.

Jungkook sees the knot in between your eyebrows, the same one that always appeared whenever you had to chew someone out for messing up something on his agenda, the chuckle that leaves him making you look up attentively.

“You could use a drink. You look like you need it,” he stands up to pour you a glass of his favorite liquor in his favorite glass, the worn-out milk cup freebie of his cereal being the perfect container whenever he wanted to get tipsy but not drunk. “How was going home?”

“It felt bad,” you admit with no shame. It’s Jungkook, and even if he has more stuff going on in his life success-wise than you do, you don’t feel a need to prove yourself. “I had to leave early.”

“And how was seeing Yoongi?” he raises a brow, still adept to the stories about him whenever you both took a load off busy schedules with drinking.

“Even worse,” you grumble, shuddering at the remembrance of a memory that’s still fresh in your mind. “I had to leave early because he was on my bed again, but this time, sleeping with his ex-wife and his son.”

Jungkook gasps softly, lips parting open in shock. “The same guy who fucked his high school sweetheart in your room?”

“Get this,” you chuckle with no real humor to it, looking down on your cup with a hatred that he could recognize. He doesn’t see it everyday, most especially not from you either, but Jungkook knows that look — that anger that could only come from someone who had to endure so much. “High school sweetheart and mother of his child and ex-wife? Just the same person.”

You’re not sure if it’s pity you should expect from Jungkook. You don’t expect any grand reaction because he should be desensitized to points like these (he’s done his fair share of dramas, both melodramatic and straight-up cheesy), but what you certainly don’t expect is for him to launch himself at you. To comfort you.

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles to your shoulder, large hand cupping repeatedly against your back.

“What are you sorry for?” you whisper, pulling away to wipe at the tears at the corners of your eyes before they get on Jungkook. You turn your head away, pretending that the city you look down on is Yoongi, and that the tears that pool onto your cheeks aren’t there at all. “It must be Yoongi’s birthright to go sleep in my room like he owns it.”

Your sarcasm can’t carry over not because you sniffled, but because Jungkook is perhaps the most observant person in the world after you. “But that’s not the worst, Jungkook.”

He’s nervous for a second before it turns into annoyance, the look of genuine concern filling his face. He has his hand on your forearm, trying to get you to look at him so when you do lie, he could catch it. “Do you need me to rough him up for you?”

“I have no right,” you mutter to yourself more than you do for him, kissing your teeth at the frustration that whatever it is to do, you can’t seem to pick yourself up now. “I can get angry at him for sleeping on my bed with no permission. I can even get angry at him for lots of things. For giving me this, this false hope that we’ll ever amount to something,” you shakily exhale, looking down on your hands that are far from Hyewon’s that have held him and their child. “But the one thing — the one thing I can’t get angry at Yoongi for is him sleeping with his family.”

You have no right. Absolutely no semblance, no fraction of anything that could ever lead you to the conclusion that you have a say on how Yoongi loves his family, even if he’s divorced Hyewon whom he’ll forever keep the porch light on for.

He can leave town and take his share, but Hyewon can always come home — that’ll never change because she was once someone whom he loved the most (probably still), and the mother to Haneul. The porch light is on and the windows are cracked open in the event that she wants to come home to them, be it their home in New York or Los Angeles, be it the home you grew up in.

“What can I do about that, Jungkook? I can’t fault him for that. That’s his family. I don’t play any part in it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Y/N,” he soothes you, fingertips lightly scratching at your scalp. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Stop lying,” you cry to your hands even if Jungkook’s chest is right in front of you, the best he could do (the best that you allow because you’re not used to anyone going out of their way for you) only letting you cry the way you know how.

“I’m saying the truth,” he hums, unconsciously swaying you back in forth as you sit on the floor together. “People take so much from you, do you know that? Weren’t you the one that had to hustle and get a practical job because your brother was gambling on passion alone?” he tilts his head, wiping at your tears. “Weren’t you the one who had to carry all the hurt when it came to Yoongi?”

Jungkook even comes to a conclusion.

“I’m guilty of it too. I give you such a hard time.”

“Stop it,” you nudge him, effectively snapping out of your crying state when you hear Jungkook going into a train he shouldn’t even board in the first place. “That’s different. It’s literally my job to go through a hard time so you don’t.”

“But still. I feel like I don’t pay you enough for it,” he frowns, the immediate laugh that bursts from your lips making him smile.

“The agency does, but okay,” you roll your eyes. “Besides, the bonus you gave me enabled me to buy a new car.”

“Eh,” he shrugs exaggeratedly in faux arrogance, the smile on his face cheeky enough that it makes you throw your head back in amusement. “It is a nice car, isn’t it?”

Jungkook does it so quick, it being your reprieve, you don’t even notice that it’s the first long stretch of silence you’re under without thinking about anything but yourself; how you breathe, how you feel your fingers move, and even how steady your heart feels.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you smile softly, turning to him as he does the same. “For letting me crash and making things a little lighter for me. Even if it isn’t your job.”

“We’ve known each other for years,” he reasons. “You’re there and I’m there, even we’re not on the clock.”

There’s weight behind his smile, the inkling that pops up into your brain making you chuckle to yourself as you straighten up once again.

“I’ll get out of your hair in a few hours. I need to beat the traffic on the way back.”

“You’re still going back? This has got to be torture.”

You shrug carelessly, sighing heavily. “Three more days. My mom’s been blowing up my phone telling me she wants the family complete so she wouldn’t look stupid in front of everyone for this big family reunion,” you nod to yourself, building up whatever dignity and resolve you have left. “I think I can endure that much for her.”

Jungkook’s mind is as set as yours is to go home.

“You don’t have to endure it alone,” he offers, eyes wide and honest.

“What?”

“I’m an actor. Award-winning,” he adds, the smile that lingers on his face giving you more than just reprieve. “Even better than that, I’m also a good friend and an excellent debt-payer.”

“Jungkook,” you say his name as warning, partly in disbelief, and partly to convince yourself that he’s not thinking what you’re thinking.

“You’re a decent actress too. Just follow my lead,” he shrugs, shoving you lightly.

“You’re ridiculous,” you gasp, shaking your head adamantly. “Seriously, you don’t want to play any part in this chaos-…”

“I’ve been in worse settings,” he counters. “Stop taking shit, Y/N. Pretty woman like you doesn’t deserve anything of the sort.”

“Jungkook.”

He knows he already has you partly convinced when you let him get another word in.

“You and me, dating, driving back home. You can pretend you’re alright and unaffected with everything,” Jungkook grins. “We act it out enough, it’ll eventually come true.”

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