𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑 || [JINKOOK FF ]

[12]

Blinking away the memory, Kim Seokjin clicked the next picture.

It was a little house in Busan, South Korea,Geumjeong-gu on a street lined with shedding Jacaranda trees, and houses built in the 1950s.

On the porch stood a beautiful woman with strawberry-blonde hair and a smile Seokjin assumed could light up the entire city on its own.

She held a baby in her arms, draped in a blue blanket with a tuft of strawberry-red hair sticking out the top.

Kim Seokjin smiled at the picture, even though the memory wasn’t his, and clicked the next image.

It was a birth certificate for Jeon Jung-kook, born 2001 in Geumjeong-gu , Busan to parents Jeon Dae-Seong and Jeon Eun-kyung.

The next click showed a death certificate for Jeon Dae-Seong  , citing an automobile accident on New Year's Eve in 2008.

And then one last click brought up the document that had started him on his quest for Jungkook: a marriage license from 2010 for Jeon Eun-kyung and Kang Ho-seok.

Kim Seokjin had not set out to find Jeon Jungkook.

When he’d started his search, he didn’t even know Jungkook existed.

When he was thirty-one, he had seen the obituaries in the paper and learned his father and stepmother had both died in an accident, and the loss had hit him harder than he’d anticipated it would.

He’d spent his entire adult life on his own, and he was fine with that. He was a self-made success, if a lonely one.

The night of his thirty-two birthday, three years ago, he’d been out drinking, alone of course, when he’d met a flighty little twink, surprisingly named Jung Ho-seok.

He’d kept drinking, and Ho-seok had kept rubbing up against him, groping his shoulders, his thighs, and fondling his cock through his jeans.

Ho-seok had laid sloppy kisses along the hemline of the sleeve of Kim Seokjin's shirt and whispered filthy promises he’d never keep.

Jung Ho-seok had said he wanted to play, that he liked it rough, so rough was what Kim Seokjin set out to deliver.

Against his better judgment, Kim Seokjin had taken Ho-seok home and unleashed years of pent-up aggression, more appropriately suited for his namesake.

Somewhere between when he’d lashed Ho-seok’s fine wrists to the headboard and when he’d seen the slightest streak of blood coat the condom as he’d pulled his sated dick from Ho-seok's swollen ass, Kim Seokjin had emotionally snapped.

He was surprised that after he loosened the belt holding Ho-seok to the headboard, the man didn’t run screaming from the room.

Hoseok’s eyes shone bright with sympathy.

And then Kim Seokjin raged, calling him a cock-sucking faggot through the tears that clogged his throat, and Jung Ho-seok simply wrapped his delicate, lithe arms around Seokjin's heaving shoulders and held him while he sobbed.

Seokjin was easily twice the other man’s size, but Ho-seok wrapped him up as best he could.

He cooed to Seokjin and soothed his fingers through his hair, like he was calming a skittish horse, and for the first time in his life, Seokjin cried over everything he’d lost, and everything he’d never had.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ho-seok asked him quietly, sometime around five in the morning.

Seokjin shook his head, trying to burrow himself into Ho-seok’s side, needing this time of reprieve from his life.