The House of a Mind | Yoonkook [Discontinued]

1

Home was worse than Jungkook had imagined.

It was dirty, almost like no one lived in it for years. He saw people walk by every so often, each face as disturbed as the ones before. It would always make Jungkook feel worse about himself.

Each room had a lot of free space that neither of them filled, similar to Jungkook's eating. He refused to eat, but the man didn't care. He never cared. Because not caring means you're strong.

The man would whisper to him things about the outside that made Jungkook want to hide deeper into their home. The words got more convincing as each day passed, and soon enough, Jungkook never wanted to leave again. That truly made the man happy.

Jungkook began writing messages on the walls with a black marker. They all followed the same want of leaving, but Jungkook didn't want to leave. He just didn't want to live in his home anymore, which made him feel like the bad guy.

The man's innocent. Jungkook kept telling himself. He never hurt me physically, so he's not the villain. He's helping me.

He helped him by keeping this roof over his head. He helped him by taking him home before Jungkook had the chance to really hurt Taehyung. He helped him by keeping him cautious about everything around him.

He was the one who made Jungkook close the doors, and though it was like a nightmare, it was what made him safe. All he wanted was to feel safe.

And that wish was placed in the man's hands by Jungkook himself.

He was looking out the window onto the warm sky and the bright green trees behind all the pine and darker ones. The way he felt was too confusing to deal with in front of the notes on the home's walls and too stressful for him to handle anywhere else. The window reminded him of the space his mind didn't have.

"What's the matter, Jeon?"

Jungkook didn't have to look to know that it was the man talking. He was the only other person in the house and his raspy voice could easily be detected in a crowd of people. It was the only one that made him shiver.

Though he had that knowledge, Jungkook didn't have the guts to answer him, already knowing what he'll say.

"Jeon. Tell me."

He took a deep breath, no longer paying attention to what was outside. "I just...I'm just a bit bored, I guess."

"Why?"

"Because..." Jungkook took a second to think before speaking, "I can't really do a lot anymore. I want to try new things. Figure out what I like, you know?"

The man burst out laughing. Jungkook looked all over the room and lifted his knees up to his chest. He regretted saying a single word to him. To anyone. He regretted breathing and looking around the room instead of at the man. All he wanted to do was hide or run away, and he regretted wanting to do that too.

"You have to be joking." The man told him.

At that point, Jungkook felt like a shriveled up leaf being blown away by the man's laughter.

When he calmed down, the man knelt down in front of Jungkook, looking up at him with a devilish smile. Jungkook was used to looking past smiles. All of them lied, anyways.

"Oh trust me, I know." The man told him, "I know all about what it feels like to fail. You'll get humiliated if you try anything, because you'll always fail. Why even think you have a future?"

Jungkook looked down at his lap.

"This house has your future, and the future here is one that no one will laugh at."

The man leaned closer to his face. "And the only way to fail that is if you leave. If you do, that's when you'll realize your mistake."

He stood back up.

Jungkook didn't move. It was like there was a weight in his heart pulling it down.

"I'm sorry."

"You're going to need a million more of those if you really want me to forgive you."

There was no sound in the room after that until he heard some squeaks of a marker. He looked up only to see the man writing something on the wall. The finished product read, "Failure."

Jungkook watched the man drop the marker on the ground, a loud clash heard from no hesitation, and walk up the stairs. When he was out of sight, he stared back at the giant word written on the wall, covering up the other things they wrote.

He wanted to fight against it. He wanted to say that the word on the wall wasn't true. But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

If the words I wrote on the wall are true, then this one has to be, too.

Then every dirt path he could've followed suddenly grew grass.