Jungkook was fifteen when he started to fear the floating numbers.
He was walking home from school when he heard it: rapid footsteps against the concrete followed by a man's cry for help.
He knew he should've just walked away that day; knew how these streets were not exactly the safest and how it's always best to keep your head down while walking as to not grab anybody's attention. Living in one of the country's most dangerous suburbs wasn't exactly the most ideal of places to call home...
But Jungkook had no choice. When his father left them a few years ago, his mother lost it and he was forced into the world of adulthood before he could even start to enjoy his youth.
His mother spent her days cooped up in her room, crying and watching soap operas. Some nights she would drink herself silly and would let out a tantrum; throwing and breaking things. Jungkook would always be there to calm her down, and until exhaustion knocks her out. He could only watch his mother with pitiful eyes as he tucked her into bed before cleaning up the shards of broken glass on the floor; wondering where the beautiful and strong woman he had come to know went.
Jungkook worked part-time jobs six days a weeks along with his brother (who was working overseas) to support their family. Being a working student was difficult and it was a good thing that Jungkook was smart enough to get a scholarship or he would've dropped out a long time ago with how tuition fees costed these days. He wanted to go to school and finish his studies. Truth be told, he liked school...he liked learning and someday he hoped to get into medical school and become a doctor.
"Help!"
Jungkook's head snapped up at the cry and he wasn't sure what came over him but he was already running before he could figure it out. He made a turn at the corner of the street and stopped dead in his tracks the moment his eyes set on the alley to his right.
A man in a gray coat was on the ground and standing before him was another man wearing a black mask, with a gun pointed at the former. The man on the floor was whimpering in pain and if Jungkook listened carefully, he could hear him begging.
And that's when it happened.
Before the man pulled the trigger, Jungkook saw it: the numbers...
Or rather, a number:
1
Jungkook's eyes widened the moment the trigger was pulled and the sound of the gunshot pierced his ears; his heart feeling like it would jump out of his chest. The killer went running off the opposite direction like lightning before he could even blink.
The victim's head lolled back, eyes wide and vacant as he bled on the ground; staining the concrete with a scarlet color.
Jungkook couldn't stop staring.
He couldn't stop staring at the number, which has changed the moment the gun was shot, hovering over the man's head:
0
And just like that... it disappeared.
~~~
Jungkook was eighteen when he learned to live by the numbers.
His curse, as how he would define it now that he knew what the numbers meant. They were timers; a set of numbers meant to specify the exact number of days a person has left to live.
A countdown to one's death.
It was one he had confirmed a second time around when his own mother died before his very eyes.
After the incident with the murderer in the alley way, Jungkook became more observant of the numbers that hovered over people's head. He noticed how the numbers were fewer with animals than with humans. And he noticed that the change happened everyday: decreasing one number at a time.
His mother had been sick for a few months and Jungkook anticipated her death when he saw her numbers dwindling each day; until she barely had a month to live.
Her death was sad but Jungkook couldn't bring himself to cry at her funeral. Not when he already saw it coming; not when he already had time to prepare himself and let the fact gradually sink into his system.
But it didn't make it any less painful and Jungkook hated himself for it. He hated what he could see; hated the numbers that identified the people he saw. Because of his sight, he hated meeting new people and making friends, fearful that he would come across someone with only a handful of days to live.
Jungkook didn't think he could deal with that. He didn't think he could deal with the burden of knowing how much time someone has left but unable to do anything about it. He couldn't just watch... And so he kept his head down low in school; ate lunch outside—alone and away from everyone; detachment becoming his life motto.
It's better this way, he always told himself. It's better to not know at all and live life on your own. It's better not to make eye contact with anyone as to not see their numbers... As to not see how much time they have left before they die.
And Jungkook lived well for a few years that way, keeping everyone at a safe distance...
"Class." The teacher called out but Jungkook ignored her and continued reading the book in his hand. It was a mystery novel he borrowed from the library yesterday and he hasn't it put it down since he started reading it this morning. It was written by an unpopular author but Jungkook thought the guy deserved more recognition with how good this was going.
"We have a new student. Ms. Kim, would you kindly introduce yourself to the class?"
"Uhm. Hi. I'm Olivia Kim. But you can just call me Liv..."
Jungkook snapped up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice but immediately regretted it when his eyes met the source almost accidentally--their gazes locking instantly as if she had been looking straight at him all along.
The numbers usually appear right after he makes eye contact with someone. He had it tested and proven and that's why he tried his best not to look anyone in the eye as much as possible.
Or look at anybody, period.
But Jungkook's look of fear slowly turned into one of curiosity when the girl, who was currently speaking in front, looked away and continued to address the whole class.
How odd, he thought as he continued to stare at her...
Wondering why there were no numbers hovering over her head.
