ᴄʜᴀsɪɴɢ ʀᴀɪɴʙᴏᴡ

~20. Insecurities shake the core

Scars To Your Beautiful - Alessia Cara

A little boy was flinging the waffle in his hands at the side of the street. Jungkook watched, his heart pounding so hard that it physically hurt as the world passed by from the passenger seat of the black beast of his motor BMW, or more precisely, his father's. "Son?" The soft voice startled him more than it should've. With wide eyes, he looked to his side. He could notice straight lines under the man's eyes, a few silver hairs peeking from underneath the perfectly combed black hair. "Your mother texted. She is asking what do you want to eat?"

Simple question. Domestic question. Yet Jungkook's tongue suddenly tied. He hasn't been asked what he wanted to eat for as long as he's left home to be on his own. He didn't know what he wanted to eat. He didn't know anything about himself anymore. God! He couldn't even say the name of the dishes he once drooled over. It seemed crazy to Jungkook as though the world had changed while he was locked up on one end of the world. 

Everything moved on. New children born, people dead, and he was still stuck like a broken star, the darkness staying firm as he waited for the crash for the last six years. 

"I'd like to get out, please," he asked in an unsteady voice, feeling the sensation in his chest, his body trembling as he controlled the soft noise that was willing to get out. 

Mr. Jeon's forehead was brushed with creases. He feared. He willed his questions away. "Are you feeling okay?" His tongue began swelling as he looked at Jungkook's forehead sweating. 

"Please," Jungkook repeated again, his left hand clutching into a fist. 

"Stop the car," Mr. Jeon asked the driver. 

The rumble of the engine softened and Jungkook opened the door near the sidewalk to get out. Mr. Jeon got out from his side and skirted to Jungkook's side. "Son, are you okay?" 

"I need to be on my own."

The man looked unsure, unmoving.

"Please... I'll follow you home soon. Please, I want to be on my own for a while. I am okay." Jungkook blinked his eyes, trying to emerge from the blur. He couldn't see the color of the sky or hear any voice out of the cacophony of noises. Everything struck him all at once. But he heaved and breathed under the textured fabric of his blazer. 

His steps began, taking him away from his father. The man's voice silenced and then he turned around, seeing his father standing on the other side of the road, his face pale as if he had seen a ghost walking.

Jungkook smiled at him. 

Mr. Jeon's chest rose and fell as he trembled, but nodded at Jungkook nonetheless before getting back inside the car.

As the black vehicle left, Jungkook slumped down on the concrete road, breathing, looking at his textured black pants. His own skin looked foreign to him in a color that wasn't grey. His vision returned gently, his chest regulated, rhythm changed, and his hand unclenched. 

He sat there, being a spectacle for people. Children giggled at him, and adults turned and looked at him sitting in the middle of the road in a black and expensive suit. He didn't mind the reactions. In fact, he felt curious to know what the prying eyes were seeing, what they were thinking about him. He didn't stand up until his tie stopped choking him.

When he did, he looked around. The first thing that caught his attention was a pair of glass doors. He walked closer to be able to read the sign. Polyc. It was written in Broadway format.