Comfort | Taekook

Eight

Jungkook flinched as soon as the door shut downstairs. He could hear the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs towards his room.

Today was Wednesday, a day that Jungkook hated.

Because those were the days that he father went out gambling with his friends.

Those were the days that his father lost all of the little money they had.

Those were the days that he took out most of his rage on Jungkook. "Come here, boy, I know you're home." Jungkook could tell that the man was already drunk by the slur of his voice as he called for him.

But Jungkook didn't respond, merely curled up into the sheets on his bed and closed his eyes, willing the man to go away just like he did every other time.

"COME HERE!" The shout made the boy whimper in fear as he merely curled himself further into a ball, wishing to be far away from here. Anywhere but here.

There was a harsh knock on his door and Jungkook nearly cried out as phantom hands struck him. Once, twice, three times...

Never ending.

Jungkook screamed when his door was shoved open and a drunk man stumbled inside, breathing heavily and angrily as he stared down at his son. "Fucking pathetic. Can't even face me like a man. Fucking bitch." The man muttered as he approached the trembling boy.

Jungkook knew that this was inevitable, he'd suffered through it week after week, but that didn't mean he wasn't scared, that he still didn't try to hide and be safe for once in his life.

He just wanted to be left alone. He didn't know why his father did the things that he did, and it was all Jungkook had ever really known. He'd never felt the loving touch of a father, never heard a word of praise or love, nothing. Jungkook was never given anything and it always left him wondering what he did to deserve this.

He always tried to make his father proud, hoping that someday he would smile at him and make him proud. Jungkook tried sports, but had to quit when the beatings got worse and he couldn't move the way most coaches wanted him to most days. He tried after school clubs, such as music and art, but that only made his father more angry, since one, he wasn't home to be a punching bag, and two, music and art was apparently for girls, which only made the beatings worse. Still, Jungkook tried. He tried the best he could in whatever way he could.

But it never worked out for him. All he could do was sit there and take it, scream and cry, beg for mercy, try to weakly scramble away, but there was nothing to be done.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Jungkook's father walked out of the room, leaving a trembling, crying, and half naked Jungkook on the bed.

His back ached, oh how his back ached.

Every week it seemed like his father would focus on something new.

His calves. His thighs, his abdomen, his upper chest.

This week seemed to be his back.

Jungkook shakily stood on his feet, stumbling to the bathroom once he was sure that his father was passed out in his room, his loud snores prominent through the thin walls of the small home that they lived in.

He turned on the light, taking a few moments to do so from how strongly his hands were trembling from the effort.

He hated this part the most.

Hated staring at himself in the mirror and seeing that damage that his father had inflicted onto his body. He was weak, and he knew it. He didn't have anybody to run to, he didn't have anything to his name. Jungkook was well and truly alone.

You're not. You know he would help you.

Jungkook shook that thought from his mind. He had already helped him so much, how could Jungkook rely on him more? Jimin was someone Jungkook would always be indebted to, getting him a small work opportunity, making sure that he had enough money to grab a cab home on the nights he caught the boy trying to walk home (hence why he started working later to try and avoid being forced to take the older's money), and Jimin had even told him that if he ever needed something, he could just call him.

But Jungkok couldn't.

He just couldn't.

Because he knew that Jimin happened to be struggling a bit as well. He was an elementary school teacher, his mother was sick in the hospital and he had to pay for those bills, he couldn't afford to simply pick up a stray like Jungkook and support him.

Jungkook couldn't do that to him.

So as the boy stared at the large, angry red welt marks on his back, he sighed.

He'd be sleeping on his stomach tonight.