Unknown Heroes ◆ JeonJungkook✔

Twenty Two: Letting Go (a Wikihow article)

Entering Jungkook's old bedroom was an obscure experience. Because apparently Shiro hadn't quite let go of little baby Jungkook yet and left everything how it was - which wasn't even the weirdest part. The weirdest part was how student-Jungkook's room had looked like (or better said; still looked like).

No posters or drawings or photos, only bare walls and bookshelves with neatly organized schoolbooks. No colors anywhere, only wooden, naked furniture and white bedsheets. The literally only sprinkle of color was a photo of little Jungkookie and his mother - it was one of these photo shoots you'd sent out as Christmas cards, with Jungkook sitting on Shiro's lap, beaming widely while Shiro only granted a small, reserved smile, the background of the photo being a bland grey that didn't look inviting at all.

"What the shit." I turned around my own axis as I entered, taking in the disturbingly dull bedroom that Jungkook must've grown up in.

Said man was sitting on the small chair in front of the sturdy, wooden desk, eyeing the photograph of him and his mother contemplative, "Yup." He mumbled, "That's what I thought too just now."

"Could you... could you imagine Jee in a room like this?" I asked, fingers tracing over the bookshelves, that didn't have a spec of dust on it.

He shook his head, "He'd go insane. He needs colors and pics and posters and shit."

I hummed agreeing, it was eerily quiet in the room and, clearly, Jungkook didn't really feel like talking right now. Which didn't mean that I'd respect that, because come on, haven't you learned anything about me? "I never bothered to ask, because same, but what's with your dad?"

Jungkook leaned back in his way too small chair, "They got divorced before I was born. Was pretty bad apparently. But I take that Shiro is a woman with pretty high standards so..."

I nodded, "Same here but mom and dad are still on pretty good terms." I cocked my head, "Do you think... this all would've turned out different if you had a dad?"

He chuckled, "With this woman as my mother? No."

I nodded, sitting down on the white bed. The mattress creaked as I did so, indicating many years of use, "Seeing your room really... demonstrates what your childhood must've been like."

He nodded slowly, "I guess it fits a little." He let his gaze wander around, "No colors, everything neat and organized, nothing personal... yeah, no, I see it."

I followed his gaze that had fallen onto the naked closet door made of light wood, trying to imagine little Jungkook living his day-to-day life in this place.

It worked, somehow - sitting on the desk like he was right now, studying, doing his homework. That I could imagine easily, but anything else?

I dragged my knees up to my chest, hugging them while a weirdly anxious feeling spread in my chest.

Once again I realized how largely different him and I were - even back in school. While he'd been forced to stay inside these walls, I was terrified of leaving mine. While I had hid underneath my blanket, crying and panicking, scared of even looking at any of the boys at my grade, he had sat inside his room, staring at an unwritten piece of paper, wishing to be free to go where he wanted to go and play like the others his age.

"You know what, Kook?" I spread my legs again, sighing with a small smile, "I think you and I would've gotten along as kids."

"You think so?"

I threw him a grin, "I mean, have you met my mom?"

He laughed silently, turning around in his chair so that he was now facing me, legs placed on each side of the rest, arms crossed on top of it, his chin laying on his forearms, "I don't think Shiro would've let me be your friend." His smile was ironic.

"Oh, I would've come up with something, believe me."

"Even in High School?"

"Huh?"

"Would we have gotten along in High School?"

My eyes fell onto his face, genuine curiosity painted all over it, "Depends on what you were like in High School."

He thought for a second, "My situation wasn't much different than before, but around this time I started to somehow stand up for myself. Shiro'd say that this was when my 'rebellious phase began'."

"Then probably not." I concluded.

"Huh, why not?"

"You just started your journey of self-discovery, I don't think I would've gotten a long with another self-centered school boy."

"Hey-!"

I cackled, "Not in a bad way, that was a good thing for you back then, right?"

"Yeah." He mused, "Compared to what you went through in High School, my troubles sound so silly tho."

I shook my head with a small smile, "This isn't a competition, idiot."

We both thought to ourselves for a second, before Jungkook's smile dropped into a more peaceful expression, "You know, I used to think you were an insensitive asshole." He muttered.

"Like I care."

"Now I just think you're an asshole."

Oh, he's got such a way with words, I rolled my eyes scooting forward to swat his head swiftly, making him yelp in protest, "We should go down and, uh, help clean up I guess?" I wasn't quite sure how polite I wanted to be with Shiro, but then again - my mom did raise me to not be an asshole (disregarding Jungkook's obviously stupid words from earlier).

"Nah, let's just leave - she probably cleaned up already. Can't stand disorder and shit." He shrugged, getting up from his place in font of his old desk.

I nodded, turning around to go back downstairs.

"Oh, and Bambi-" I stopped, looking back at him. His eyes ran down my body with a small, satisfied grin, "You look kinda hot in that fit."

"God, I wish I had anything to throw at you right now." For a second I had actually considered to use my phone, but decided he wasn't worth it. He snickered like the idiot child he is and I cleared my throat, "But uhm, are you okay now?"

His smile didn't falter, "Sure. Never been better."

___

Jeon Shiro had watched her son leave many times before. No matter how often, it had never gotten through to her that her son wasn't a child anymore. That he had moved out and started his own life, independently from her. Heck, she'd never believed he would be independent as long as she lived. Because she didn't want that.

But for the first time since he had started going to uni, it hit her that he was an adult. As she watched him leave with this- this girl, watched how he helped her into her jacket, both acting indifferent towards the gesture, watched how he gave her a curt wave before slamming the entrance door shut - it felt like he really left.

She didn't like the feeling, felt like running out there and dragging him back in by the hair - but she couldn't. 

He's not a child anymore.

She understood that now.

___

y'all I finished the first season of the promised Neverland, why did I pick Norman as my fave??????

xx