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Cambridge, 18—
The candlelight flickers beside him, casting long, wavering shadows across the parchment as Jungkook dips his quill into ink, the scratch of it against paper the only sound in the vast stillness of the study hall.
The grand mahogany desk before him is cluttered with thick tomes of law, some splayed open, their yellowed pages whispering tales of justice and reason, others stacked haphazardly—silent sentinels to the knowledge he has spent years burying himself in.
Yet, in this moment, none of it holds his attention.
His hand stills over the paper, fingers smudged faintly with ink, his mind drifting far from Cambridge’s stone walls and the weight of his impending Bar examination.
The air is thick with the scent of aged parchment and melting wax, but all he longs for is the scent of saltwater and sun-warmed skin.
His home.
Jungkook exhales, setting the quill down as he leans back, the wooden chair creaking under his weight. He takes a slow drag from the cigarette resting between his fingers, watching the tendrils of smoke curl towards the ceiling, dissipating like memories slipping through his grasp. He doesn't recall when or where he started smoking—only that he remembers why.
The longing never left him.
The world outside is painted in moonlight, the cobbled streets of Cambridge eerily quiet save for the distant hooves of a passing carriage. His fellow scholars are either buried in their own studies or lost in the warmth of ale and revelry, celebrating the fleeting freedom before examinations seize them in their grip. But Jungkook remains, shackled to his thoughts, to the ache that never quite settles.
Because when he thinks of home, it isn’t the grand dinners hosted by his father upon returning from the military base, nor is it the rich aroma of his mother’s beloved dishes.
It is him.
His bundle of joy. His innocent, brown-eyed fluff ball. The boy with soft, bread-like cheeks and a smile that could outshine the sun.
Jungkook dreams of him often—of the two of them running through a vast field of dandelions, laughter ringing in the wind, golden petals swirling around them like tiny flecks of light. In those dreams, time is kind. The world is simpler. There are no expectations, no responsibilities—only him, hand in hand with the boy who has owned his heart for as long as he can remember.
