One-Way Ticket | Jeon Jungkook

seven

TW: racism and a racial slur (it has been censored)

Jungkook's last words had played over and over in my mind on the entire way home, like a catchy melody that I had tried pushing out but to no avail. His voice was so dreamlike and melodic, that you couldn't help but listen and admire. Drawing you in and capturing you for what felt like a lifetime. As if he actually sung his words with a slight tilt to make sure you would never ever escape again. The melody played on the whole flight back home, making sure that I didn't close a single eye on the entire trip, and it was a long ass trip. Twisting and turning his words in every direction, trying to decipher them. What the hell had he meant?
To find him when I came back to Seoul was the option that made the most sense, but then again, he hadn't exactly been entertaining that idea mere moments before, by bluntly rejecting me and simply playing it off. It was dreadful.

When I finally arrived home in the comfy, little, white, domestic suburb of our tiny Pennsylvania town, I passed out on my extremely missed and beloved bed. And the first thing my eyes laid upon when I woke up, to bird's chatter and bright sunlight filtering through my window, was the ancient BTS Skool Luv Affair poster from across my bed. Seven boys staring intensely straight at me with ungodly amounts of eyeliner. Wayy too early in the morning. I threw myself back down and kept lying in my bed, covered by pillows and blankets in a burrito. My mind was spinning, and a headache was pounding. Tomorrow marked the start of school and my job at the little local diner. Looking like something out of 50's America.
But today nothing was planned.

I looked at the enormous Cooky plush sitting to my right on the bed, I had hugged it all night long. It had been a real hassle to take home, ending with my mom having long and heated discussions with the airplane staff, but I had been persistent to have it with me. Not only because it was a giant Cooky and Jungkook had won it for me. But because it also kind of smelled like him. It sounds weird when you say it out loud, but when you first get a whiff of his rich scent and cologne, all those kinds of sane thoughts are gone. He had carried it around for a long part of night so that was probably why. It allowed me to dream back to the night with him, ending in hopeless fantasies taken straight out of a K-drama. I pretended that I laid on Jungkook's muscular chest when it was really just Cooky's fat chin. Cooky was filled with passion and strength while still being cute. Why shouldn't I be able to be that too?
Cooky was the real hype man and at some point, I managed to stretch my toes out into the cold morning air, whelping like a pitiful dog before I could slip them into my fluffy slippers. Life savers.

Mom made eggs for breakfast. We all ate together, and I spent more time picking at the eggs than actually eating them. Life feeling kind of empty now that Jungkook wasn't as involved, and I was back to my normal day to day life. But I guessed that I was going to get over that, just needed a little time.
"Y/n," My mom said suddenly as I stared blankly into my plate. "Why don't you go for a walk? The weather is nice today. I'll do the dishes." My mind was still feeling a bit groggy, and it took me a little time to actually comprehend what she had said. "Sure. Yeah, okay." I said as I rose from the table and headed for the door. It was a bit colder here in Pennsylvania, enough for me to have to put my hands in my pockets and stroll down the sidewalk. Early spring was blooming all around me, light green shone like peridot on the many trees that graced our front garden, and little pink and white delicate flowers dotted the grass covered in a fine coat of frost.
It was beautiful by other words.

I walked down the street, kicking at the additional small stones laying on the tiles, sending them skittering across the carless road. Sundays were always sleepy in towns like these and if I were to find even a single human on my entire walk, I would consider it a miracle. That was of course until I passed by a certain white house. I could see Harpers bouncy, brown curls in my peripheral vision before I heard her annoying, screeching voice. I speed up, walking twice as fast, hoping to flee before she caught onto me. But then-
"Y/n! You're back, how was vacation?" It sounded so fake that my ears were about to bleed. It felt ridiculous to have people you strongly disliked when you were 19, but I just couldn't help it when it came to her.