OPPOSITES ATTRACT | JJK ✔

Chapter 05 ㅡ Old Wounds, New Healers

Jungkook's POV

My legs dangled as the light breeze blowing did the work of keeping my hair out of my eyes. The old swing I was seated on squeaked in the silent air. It was a quiet and cold night. A night when everyone gets cozy inside their dream houses with their partners or just loved ones warming their hearts.

It wasn't rare for me to be out here at a night like this. Nothing to feel sorry about. Nothing to be sad about.

The first few evenings since I added this alone time to my day were just after joining middle school. Those were the most dreadful times of my life.

As I raised my gaze to the park afore me, a short silhouette got my attention. It was a little boy, no more than 5, looking around the space with teary eyes and wobbly lips.

Where the heck were his parents?

As if on cue, a man in his early thirties skipped hastily to reach his probable son. The boy who was perfectly calm on the outside, wailed out a loud cry on seeing his father's figure.

The man gently picked him up and rocked him while whispering a few sweet words, one of them certainly being a lure of buying him ice cream.

Both of them had long left, yet my eyes refused to waver from the spot they stood at minutes ago.

The question of 'where is your father?' Had seemed irrelevant to me all my childhood. But here was my hypocrite mind announcing the same question on spotting a kid alone.

From the moment the kids of my kindergarten had questioned me about my dad, I had started to hate him more.

He had left my mom on just the news of my existence. The reason could be his less paying job but to me it always came as a practical excuse. It was certain that he didn't truly love my mom. He never planned on assigning my mom any valuable position in his future.

That was all I knew of him. All I ever wanted to know about him too.

Jeon was my maternal grandfather's surname. The surname my mom gave to me and also what she completed her identity with. None of us needed anything belonging to that traitor.

But the want of having a father and the desire of a person to love was seldom obvious in our lives. I couldn't turn a blind eye to the uncomfortable stance of my mom every time someone questioned her about him, nor could I afford being oblivious to the whispers about me not having a dad in preschool.

I didn't know how it felt to have a strong hold of steady hands on the handles of my bike when I first learned to ride it. I didn't know how it felt to give the threat of 'my father will see you' to someone who bullied me.

I didn't know how it felt to have someone teach me about car mechanisms,someone to help me in times of trouble, someone to scold me on my attitude, someone to be afraid of on coming back home late. I didn't know how it felt to have a father and that was the most wrecking of all.

I pulled the reins of my thoughts keeping them from wandering again. I didn't need to waste my time dwelling about someone who was never a part of my life. I had my mom. The person who I was truly proud of.

She had raised me adequately, providing me with all the love, care and attention I needed. We had been living in Busan for a good eight years. My mom did a job that paid well enough for me to study in a good elementary school. But that was all to our years of peace. Apparently, there was more to add to my misery.

The kids wanted to know how it was possible for a child without a father to be this obedient and intelligent.

While other kids proudly boasted about getting good grades, I was busy stuffing my result card into a remote corner of my bag and brainstorming new lies. Me getting good scores had become a joke in my class. Once even the teacher couldn't keep her curiosity and asked if I had a private tutor.