A Song of Storms | Yoonkook

1

It's loud— much louder than Jungkook had anticipated— and part of him wonders whether leaving the small earplugs in his room was a mistake. Those he calls his closest find their voice as liquor courses their veins, yet he remains untainted to all but hear their obnoxious laughter joined by those he can't quite make out. Words fall piercing and gazes equally as so, and whilst he could perhaps force what little strength resides within to engage, he knows the result may be something he is unwilling to face. Yet, the fire is warm— perhaps his only semblance of grounding as summer nights draw to a close, autumn's chill never quite finding its feet but the turn of the season draws near, enough for his skin to house goosebumps that traverse his spine in a shudder, leaving his head to jolt and neck to bear the brunt of its sudden force.

Jimin had begged Jungkook to join them. "Locking yourself in your room isn't good, Kookie. Come to Seokjin's with us." He had said, voice as impossibly soft as ever, a calming constant to soothe Jungkook's mind. But as he sits on a chair that he is quite certain will somehow collapse under his weight— fabric thread-bare and its metal frame all but rusted— he thinks little of the benefits of interaction, wishing for serenity in the form of the subtle crackle of fire, music that he holds dear, or the soundtracks of the video games he has completed perhaps more times than he can quite remember.

A constant. That's all he wishes for, and stability is penned by Jimin's well-versed hand throughout their childhood of mutual understanding— only much later joined by Taehyung, a man that leaves Jungkook keeled over with laughter wracking his frame, aching cheeks and eyes glimmering with tears. The two who give him purpose, and he wonders why he ever needs any other. Despite niceties, Jungkook barely mingles, refusing each polite offer of beer or soju that gets gently pushed under his nose, and as the air turns that little colder, what perhaps ails him the most grows stronger, a deep ache within his hip that he simply could never ignore.

As the turn of spring loomed against the horizon, Jungkook took his usual route home, one passing the bus stop he used to take but came to prefer the serenity of walking that little further to admire what flowers began their bloom. Perhaps it was this decision, he thinks, that ultimately met his regret, stumbling on uneven pavement leading to an accident— bones shattered and mind all but hazed. A car, they had said, one that didn't see his fall onto the asphalt, and whilst Jungkook can't quite remember what had occurred, he remembers the aftermath perhaps that little too vividly. Each consultation was a drag, a burden that had found its firm rest against his shoulders as he found his voice asking others for assistance. Surgeries were needed— rods and screws keeping what remained intact, and despite months passing with each day that little less painful than the last, he wishes he had never changed his route. It had left him unwilling to leave the confines of his room, body collapsing under its own weight as fractures healed, and soon he began venturing with small steps into the living room with Taehyung and Jimin on either side to break his fall should he need them. He did, and perhaps each time he stumbled or the pain was simply too much to bear, what autonomy he had left shattered just that little more.

Yet they say time heals all wounds, and whilst now as Jungkook is largely mobile— crutches sporting a thin veil of dust in the corner of his bedroom with a walking stick his only aid— the persistent ache of the trauma remains, one only spurred on by the cold and its accompanying vulnerability. Jungkook has never liked to be dependent on others— always seen as too needy— and with each breath, knowing that reliance is still necessary is perhaps a bigger burden itself.

He watches the others from his seat, a small blanket draped over his knees and a glass of lemonade in hand with his walking stick upright beside him, and as Hoseok and Seokjin all but shout, he can't quite help but grimace as it pierces his ears. Jimin mumbles something to him that he can't quite remember, Taehyung is beside him with fond eyes at whatever playful tussle is occurring, and each small glance from Namjoon makes Jungkook feel that little smaller— a kind gaze yet one he simply can't quite figure out nor perhaps has the energy to start.