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Note: This is the original version of 'Uncle Kim'. I've since rewritten it with a new and improved plot, which is available in my worklist. For those who missed it the first time around, I'm leaving this version up. If you're interested in reading the revised story, feel free to check it out!
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A boy lay sound asleep in his room, oblivious to the world outside. The alarm clock on the floor, broken and abandoned, was proof of his morning rebellion—he had hurled it aside rather than turn it off.
It was already 11 a.m., but the boy was unfazed. It was Sunday, after all, and waking up early wasn’t on his agenda. Downstairs, his mother’s calls echoed through the house, but he ignored them. His mind was lost in dreams of his crush and the whimsical fantasies of young love.
Suddenly, the room's air grew warm. The fan and air conditioning had been turned off. With a groggy groan, the boy reluctantly acknowledged this rude interruption to his slumber.
He opened his eyes and saw his mother standing near the switchboard, a pink pan in her hand. The stern look on her face spelled trouble.
“What now?” he muttered, pouting.
“Get up! I've been calling you for half an hour, and you didn’t even bother to respond,” she scolded.
“But, Eomma, it’s Sunday! Let me sleepppp,” he protested, pulling the blanket over his head.
His mother’s next words jolted him awake.
“kookie, your Uncle is coming from London today,” she announced, a playful smile on her face, as if anticipating his reaction.
“Uncle? Uncle Kim?” Jungkook’s eyes widened, the drowsiness replaced by excitement.
He jumped out of bed and dashed to his mother, his voice trembling with anticipation. “Do you mean Uncle Kim?”
“Yes, but why is my son so happy hearing his name?” she teased, her eyes twinkling knowingly.
Jungkook blushed, his face turning crimson. He couldn’t hide his happiness.
“I just… I haven’t seen him in four years,” he admitted, his voice soft. His chest felt heavy, as if longing filled every corner. His eyes stung with unshed tears.
“Do you miss him that much?” Mrs. Jeon asked gently.
“So much, Eomma,” Jungkook replied, his bittersweet smile betraying his emotions.
“When’s he coming? Where will he stay? How long will he be here? Is he going back to London? Will he leave me again?” Jungkook’s questions tumbled out in rapid succession.
Mrs. Jeon chuckled at her son’s excitement. “He’s arriving this evening. He was planning to stay at a hotel, but your Appa invited him to stay with us. The rest of your questions…. you’ll have to ask him yourself, Jungkook. You’re 21 now—be brave,” she said, gently patting his head.
