No Going Back

4

Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections.
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The Art of War
Sun Tzu

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One long, silent hour passed and yet Jungkook wasn't able to fall asleep. He remained in bed, hopeful that the relentless stream of thoughts holding his mind captive would trickle away, leaving him blank and numb. If he could just get some rest, maybe the future wouldn't seem so bleak.

But it was bleak, wasn't it?

Fuck.

He didn't want to dwell any longer. He didn't want to feel any longer. It was times like this that Jungkook wished he could drink away the pain, to fall into that seductive darkness that soothed away all worries. But there were reasons why alcohol was never going to be his escape. Valid reasons why that vice couldn't be the answer.

Maybe it was a silly and juvenile, but he made a promise. And regardless of how he felt now, he knew he'd feel ten times worse if he broke a vow he'd been upholding for years:

Jungkook would not drink alcohol; he would not end up an alcoholic like his father.

Despite the hardships he experienced throughout his life, he hadn't broken this promise to himself yet. And sure, the grief was suffocating and all-consuming, but he would not cave. He was stronger than the need to blur out his sorrows.

So he was at a standstill as to what to do. Trapped in this tiny room, he wasn't able to turn to any of his other coping methods. In the past, the most beneficial way to dull his overactive mind was through physical exertion. There was something about pushing his body past its breaking point that gave Jungkook a strong sense of calm. It was easier to focus on the burning of his muscles rather than let memories of the past swallow him whole.

The most readily available form of physical exertion was, of course, working out. Lifting weights, boxing, you name it. If it required an obscene amount of stamina and endurance, Jungkook was eager to partake in it. Back when he was able to go to a gym, he'd spend hours fatiguing his body until he reached a state of mental clarity. He'd often come home with split skin on his palms or knuckles, a physical reminder of his strength and capabilities.

His other form of physical diversion was admittedly one he hadn't indulged in for years. Sex wasn't the easiest to come by when he had to second guess everyone's motives; it would be quite distracting to worry about getting his brains blown out in the midst of fucking. Once he learned that people could be out to get him, he determined that the pleasure of the loins wasn't exactly worth the risk of getting a bullet between his eyes.

No, it'd been just him and his hand for a while now.

With no practical way to work out - and no desire to jack off in Namjoon's old room - Jungkook resolved himself to snooping. Sure, a small remnant of guilt was a quiet companion as he sifted through the boxes Jin recently packed. But with no one left to chastise him for being nosey, he let his curiosity take over.

There weren't too many items in the half-full cardboard boxes, just a random assortment of clothes, books, and useless knickknacks. It was saddening to see how few belongings Namjoon had kept here. The elder had always been a simple man, with no interest in material possessions, though it made Jungkook frown upon realizing this house was never a home for Namjoon.

It took no time at all to filter through the items, with Jungkook efficiently unpacking then repacking the contents. He took a few things for himself - a couple of worn-out sweatshirts and heavy books - and neatly placed them into a spare backpack he found.