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𝔸 𝕗𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕤 𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕠𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕒 𝕤𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕦𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕓𝕒𝕟 𝕡𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥. ℍ𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟. 𝕀𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕓𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕪. ℍ𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥, 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕤. ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕚𝕞 𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖. ℍ𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕣 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖. ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤. ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕪, 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕒 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕨𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡, 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪.
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕖, 𝕚𝕗 𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙, 𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕤𝕖, 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 '𝕠𝕗 𝕦𝕟𝕦𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕔𝕚𝕣𝕔𝕦𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤'. ℍ𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕤. ℍ𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕟'𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕛𝕒𝕨𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕.
ℍ𝕖 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕣𝕦𝕟, 𝕡𝕣𝕖-𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕘𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤 𝕡𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕪 𝕗𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕥. 𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖.

Jeon Jungkook awoke from his dream with a start, but did not open my eyes or make any sound. Gradually, he lifted his eyelids and assessed his surroundings. He was still laying down on the hardwood floor of his small apartment at the foot of his bed where he had fallen asleep the previous night.
Ever since he could remember, Jungkook had slept on the floor. There was something about beds that seemed untrustworthy to him, as though as soon as he got comfortable, the mattress would be yanked away from beneath him. The floor, he knew. The floor was safe.
Soundlessly, he rose. He took a shower and pulled on a black hoodie and ripped jeans, dried his ear length wavy brown hair. The time was 12:52, he had a class at 2:30pm and an hour to kill. He sat down on the kitchen counter and watched the clock, waiting for the time to pass and not really knowing what else he could do.
He hadn't felt like breakfast again today, his adoptive parents would always tell him he had a stomach the size of a walnut.
When the minute hand hit 01, his phone began to ring from the living room. He tiptoed silently to where it was ringing from the coffee table, and picked it up, clicking the answer button for a FaceTime call from Kim Taehyung.