Home Sweet Home | Jikook

Chapter 2: Promises

JIMIN

Jungkook waves with a trembling hand, his face blurry with my tearful vision as the taxi drives off the porch. He gets smaller and smaller until he is no longer in sight. My heart drops with every bit of distance that is created between us, but I am reminded of Junsu's words from the last day I spent with him:

"It's easy to be held back, especially since you've lived here your whole life. This will always be your home, but it's time for you to find yourself outside of this place. Don't let it, anything or anyone hold you back."

And even the thought of taking on his words makes me feel guilty. The idea of leaving everything behind, leaving Jungkook behind just seems so impossible. I couldn't possibly do it. Not now. Not ever.

The taxi halts in a slummy neighbourhood: the profanities graffitied on the walls, the glass shards scattered across the sidewalk and the street decorated in trash gives this away. Taehyung and I exchange a similar look, one that doesn't translate to 'Home sweet home'. But then again, being the more logical one, I remind him that is as good as it gets for us. At least for now.

"Shall we?" I point to the building where our home awaits, filthy with rat droppings, I'm sure.

We enter the building, going all the way up to the third floor, lugging our suitcases behind us with the wheels hoisting up each step. The door to our studio room is painted a dark green: my face twists in disgust. I don't know if that's the actual color or mold. I twist the doorknob and step in, immediately welcomed by the smell of old wood and what can only be described as dirt. Taehyung drops his backpack on the bed covered in a grey blanket of dust, coughing as the dirt billows in the air at the impact.

"So..." He trails off, his weary eyes checking out the rest of the room: two single beds, bearly standing, a large window standing between them and a door which leads to the most disgusting bathroom I have set my eyes on. In the corner, a small fridge and a stove sit next to each other, opposite the sink which holds a faucet that drips every five seconds.

"So?" I turn to him, dumbfounded. "Let's clean this place up. We're lucky we even got a place with the price we're paying."

"Right, well I hope you're prepared to spend money on a crap-load of cleaning stuff."

And that we did.

My eyes shift to Taehyung as I sweep, the poor boy gagging and shuddering as he scrubs the toilet bowl after losing our staring contest. That's how we settle most things. We stare at each other, like the responsible adults we are, until someone blinks and has to do the unavoidable thing. In this case, cleaning the bathroom.

We take a step back simultaneously after the three hours we spent scrubbing and abusing the place with cleaning products. That and the tears that were shed as we cleaned, mostly on Taehyung's behalf when he was down on his knees, cursing his fate and cleaning the shit-stained toilet bowl. But looking at it now, the place looks polished, with a sweet scent of cinnamon in the air from the candle by the window.

Just as we're about to sit, we hear a loud thump on the front door, followed by an exasperated "Fuck". Taehyung jumps on my back, grabbing the broom in one hand and a disinfectant spray in the other. I roll my eyes, slowly stepping towards the noise with a koala clinging on my back, careful to step lightly without the floorboards creaking.

"Don't worry Chim, I've got disinfectant," He whispers proudly.

"Oh thank God! Then we have nothing to be scared of. We have disinfectant with us to do some serious damage."

"Bro, one spray in his eyes and he's gone."

"Taehyung?"

"Yeah?"