When It Comes To You |j.k

14: 陪伴

Lana doesn't usually have a play pal to play with her. Ms.Bae takes care of her but because of her age her energy is only enough to do such. Someone like Jungkook is exactly what Lana needs, someone that has more than all the energy in the world.

Lana's never laughed louder.

She sticks her finger into Jungkook's nostril. He's unbothered by the sudden attack but he plays along. He gets up from the couch and begins to chase her around the living room.
Lana wants the attention, and he's more than willing to give it to her.

He eventually snatches her up into his arms and sticks his index finger into her nostril. Lana blows her nose, and he immediately retracts his hand. She giggles as Jungkook puts on a disgusted expression. 

"You nasty child." He pinched her nose, and sets her down on the couch. He sits down between us two sisters and puts an arm around my shoulder as I yawn.

"Tired?" He asks, leaning towards me and kissing my ear lobe. I shiver, nodding as I do.

I nervously avert my gaze to his face and he's smirking at me, eyes on my lips. Growing self conscious, I face the other way, hiding from his stare.

"What's wrong?"

"You're too close." I state with a gulp, feeling his hand grip on my chin, guiding me back to him.

"Am I?" Despite asking me this question, he places his lips on mine. He then distances us just the slightest to look at my eyes. Seeing that I'm not pushing away, he kisses me again, and I feel his hand holding my cheek.

I then turn my head, his lips ripping off of mine.

"What is it?" He whispers, and I look to my sister, who was looking at us with wide eyes. He turns to look at her, and lets out an 'oh'.

Jungkook sits himself back and smiles nervously at Lana. "You kissed my sister."

"It seems so."

/

We're now headed to bed, while Lana was already fast asleep hours before in the guest room. Jungkook begged that I slept in his room, and even added that he wouldn't do anything to me without my consent. I was safe with him.

Though neither of us are in the mood to sleep, we were already tucked in bed. I stare ahead of us, where across the room was a bookshelf. There were pictures of the boys from school, many of them. But there was one single picture of his family, they weren't smiling too widely either. It was a very formal picture, where they were all dressed neatly and posed on a bench with his father standing behind him and his mother.

"What are your parents like?"

He probably isn't used to being asked this question, because most people like to search them up online instead and just get to know them from a reporter's perspective. I realize this because he looks almost stunned by my question.

But it was different hearing it from Jungkook, because he won't be paid for saying certain things or to not say certain things, and he definitely knows them better than the people who only shove microphones in their faces for the cash.

"They're not bad people, I guess. A lot of their money goes towards charities and they do care about the things that they donate their money to, by the way. It's not just to reduce taxes." But he still sounded...unsure, and uncomfortable with what he was saying.

"Not the best...parents though." I look at him and he's staring down at his hands with his lips pursed.

"They're more like my providers. My parents don't really like to get involved in the things I do. But when they choose to, they get overly involved."

He stops between words, and even stutters them out. He's not used to saying all this to people. I know it's not because he's unwilling, it's because nobody asks. Nobody asks if he's okay, if he's having a good time, or if he needs a hand.

"I'd always be driven to school by our driver unless my parents needed a ride before me. But whenever I see all the other teenagers, I start to wonder what it feels like to have your own parents take you to school."

The next thing he says breaks me a little bit, "I have all this money, and I have all these things that most people would save their money for. All I have to do is snap my fingers and they'll be brought to me. But I don't need these things."

His shoulders are hunched and he lets out a breath, "The things I want can't be bought with money. I want their affection, their time..but that sounds silly,"

"It's not silly."

"Yes it is."

"It's not," I reach for his hand and take it, enveloping it in mine.

"I get how it feels, maybe not the loaded-with-money part, but I know how lonely it gets. My parents never really showed much affection when they were around. It's not that they didn't want to, they couldn't. 'Always locking themselves in their studios."
I slide further down the bed, and pulled the blanket up my chest.

"Studios?" He did the same.

"My parents were music producers, remember?"

His lips grow apart and he's silent for a few seconds, probably digging through his memory for the one time that I'd told him anything about my parents. He closes his mouth, and nods.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't rich."

It was such a petty thing to say, especially when the one he was talking to was struggling with money, but it miraculously made me pity him—a lot.

"Haeyoung wouldn't die, and maybe my parents would love me..maybe my life would be normal." I shift my body to turn and look at him, after hearing his little voice crack.

He was opening up to me.

Jeon Jungkook was opening up to me.

"I should stop talking, shouldn't I?" He looks at me and we meet eyes.

"No, no. It's fine."

But the more he tells me these things, the more guilty I am about how I felt towards him in the beginning. And how I deep down despised him for his wealth, yet I was also jealous of it all. He had everything I was working so hard for, but even then he lives his life like someone who has absolutely nothing.

He was rich in money, but poor in affection and love—especially from his family.

And suddenly I don't envy him anymore, instead I just really, really, want to hug him.

"Thank you for bringing your sister, she's like the fucking sun." He laughs and his beautiful voice rings in my ear.

"It really does get cold here, with no one to talk to."

"Do bangtan ever come here? To come hang out? Maybe we should bring them next time." Looking at the photos of them on his bookshelf, I could tell he treasured them a lot, they were an inseparable group. He's only recently started hanging out with people other than them—me. So why is it that no one—including them—ever comes over?

"My parents don't like them, 'think they're a bad influence or whatever."

"That's so much bull." He only ever smiles when he's with them, and also with me—recently.

"I haven't told them about you, because if I do I might have to stop bringing you over too."

God, that's just so heartbreaking to hear.

I scoot over and pull him into a hug, holding him in my chest with my arms around him.

"I'll keep coming over, don't worry." I pat his hair and he slowly latches himself onto me with teardrops silently wetting my shirt.