EXCESSIVE | ᴋᴏᴏᴋᴠ

03

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Jungkook trudged back to his small apartment, the weight of the night's events pressing heavily on his shoulders. The narrow streets of his neighborhood were dimly lit, the flickering streetlights casting long shadows that danced along the cracked pavement. The buildings here were old and worn, much like his spirit after the disastrous night.

He finally reached the worn wooden door of his apartment. The paint was peeling, and the hinges creaked as he pushed it open. Inside, the place was modest and sparsely furnished. A small living room with a threadbare couch, a rickety coffee table, and a few personal items scattered around. The kitchen, visible from the entrance, was equally small, with just the essentials and a barely functioning stove.

Jungkook kicked off his shoes, wincing as he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. Looking down, he saw blood seeping through his sock. The memory of the club owner shoving him replayed in his mind, and he realized that was when he must have injured himself. He sighed, knowing he didn't have the money for medical supplies or even food.

He had hoped that securing the gig at the club would provide him with the funds to buy groceries. Now, that hope was shattered. But Jungkook was nothing if not resilient. He grabbed a glass of water, gulped it down to stave off the hunger, and hobbled to his small bedroom. Without any first aid, he laid down on his thin mattress, hoping sleep would dull the pain.

Morning light filtered through the thin curtains, waking Jungkook from his restless sleep. He heard noises coming from the kitchen—pots clanging and the faint smell of food cooking. Confused, he sat up, noticing that his ankle was now bandaged. He limped towards the kitchen, curiosity piquing.

There, he saw his best friend park Jimin bustling about, preparing breakfast. The kitchen, which was usually empty, was now stocked with groceries.

"Jimin, what are you doing here?" Jungkook asked, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in his voice.

Jimin turned and flashed him a bright smile. "Good morning, Kook. I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast. And I noticed your ankle, so I bandaged it up for you."

Jungkook's eyes softened as he took in the sight. "You didn't have to do all this. I can manage."

Jimin shook his head, his expression turning serious. "I know you can, but you don't have to do it alone. We're friends, right? Friends help each other out."

Jungkook sat down at the small kitchen table, his heart warming at Jimin's kindness. "Thanks, Jimin. Really. But you have your own life and job to worry about."

As they ate breakfast, Jimin couldn't help but think back to how he and Jungkook had become friends.

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Jungkook and Jimin had known each other since they were kids, their friendship forged in the small, bustling neighborhood where they grew up. Their first encounter was memorable, filled with the kind of camaraderie only kids could create, full of genuine intentions and pure-hearted actions.

It was a sweltering summer day, and the local playground was buzzing with activity. Jungkook, a confident and assertive boy of seven, was in the corner of the playground, showcasing his impressive skills on a beat-up old guitar. His fingers moved deftly over the strings, playing a lively tune that caught the attention of everyone around. Despite the condition of his guitar, his passion and talent were unmistakable.

Jimin, a lively and outgoing boy, noticed Jungkook from across the playground. He had seen Jungkook around before, always drawing attention with his talent and magnetic personality. Curious and intrigued, Jimin decided to approach him. With his characteristic bright grin, he ran over to where Jungkook was playing.