❝Sweet nothings you say, but I got you. And that matters the most.❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Suggestive genres/warnings: established relationship, life in the 1930s au, angst (but not really angst?), mostly hurt-comfort, themes of poverty and emotional fluff.

A lil caution beforehand, this one-shot might seem veryyy boring in the first read and it's prolly not into one of my best works. I had a recommendation and I thought of giving it a go so yeah ToT /// I've provided a brief backstory towards the end lmao.

Anon requested: a liskook wedded imagine where one of them has an emotional meltdown and the other cheers them up? I need some comfort and you're the best person I know who writes these beautifully!!!＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／

TYSM for the appreciation, anon! I saw your request long after I started drafting this scenario so I dunno if this is the best representation of what you requested yet I hope it can suffice your needs. 🧸💜

━━━━━━━━

Word Count: 5010

«NARRATION»

The crisp sounds of a small fire cracking resonated across the quiet kitchen area as soon as the casserole was placed on the stove. No matter the irrefutable attempts Lisa undertook in setting the stewpot in a balanced position, the metal was adamant and sat lopsided over the burner. She was yet to come in terms with cooking the awkwardly crooked way, especially since her vessel suffered an impactful damage and this one was borrowed from her sweet neighbour, Mrs Mayerson.

Cooking like that was considerably dangerous as there were chances of the pot to tumble over and possibly cause a burnout and damage the off white, beige flooring of their crapped rental unit adorably called 'home'. Lisa tiredly huffed, the sigh escaping in the form of fog. Picking up the spoon, she carefully tried to pry the lid off the bottle of canned meat, the deep saffron shining brighter than the original tin that contained them.

"Buy two, get one free" was the phrase she muttered under her breath, thanking heavens for the special sale offer before all stores closed down following the imposed winter curfew.

A gentle sizzle was heard when the meat hit the base of the vessel and subsequently the brown caramel colour of the broth had come to a boil whilst Lisa stared at its surface, the blandness reminding her of her own colourless life.

Needless to say, the practice of gratitude held a powerful meaning; time and again, it kept reminding Lisa of her status in the society and kept her grounded for everything the Lord had bestowed upon her, because it was the only string of hope she was holding onto, to support her family, because she was already too panicked for any more mishaps to strike by, some of which that would probably cost more than a fortune if they were to be paid back.

The rough times of 1930s or the years of Great Depression as the press liked to call them, were preferably absurd and comedic — only the past decade, everyone had predicted the good times were finally here; the 1920s were a roaring age of prosperity, with scopes of economic development for the working classes that were expected to grow richer by the future years to come. Insane changes and expected profit margins could've boomed, until 1929 struck and everything collapsed, dramatically transitioning into one of the darkest eras anybody could've ever anticipated.

The profound struggles were more like a period of uncertainty, a difficult battle of sustenance and frugality. Families of rich aristocracies and socialites kept cramming about the inconvenience to partly curb their extravagant lifestyles while the common folk as usual, were banished and sandwiched under the widened line of disparity in their terribly impoverished lifestyle. Lisa would get reminiscence of the time of her marriage when she was eighteen and ambitious, with skyrocketing dreams of chasing the American dream, the very reason why she had migrated to the States with her husband for a better way of living. And now at twenty five, Lisa was a failing mistress in managing her own home.

There was an inner, greater part of herself desperately wishing for winter to pass by as quickly as it came. Times would often worsen to the very extent that almost every person in the lower part of the town would joke about how their lives could've been better off as a comatose dream. Except for the very fact that their new normal was just an estranged reality, the consequence of monetary misfortunes and resentful miseries.

The heat from the stove was the only source of warmth in the freezing weather. The nights were seemingly unbearable to an extent that Lisa couldn't feel her own feet as she wore about three layers of stockings and a heavy sweater coat to stay well insulated.

Her back ached and she stood up from the stool for a better scrutiny of the concoction seething inside the pot that was supposedly the dinner for tonight. Lisa couldn't exactly put a finger at what she'd been cooking herself, for the composite mixture could neither be called a soup nor a stew; it looked more like a mediocre one-pot meal coerced by the budgeted availability of its ingredients — some carrots the fellow Park family gave them last week in exchange of some ounces of leftover rice grains, the clearance sale on kale leaves in isolated storefronts and some dark blemishes that occurred over the skin of the potatoes that indicated they were probably nearing an end to their shelf life. This was how life was supposed to be like in the coming days or maybe months, until the pay check was received, the guarantee of which remained a conjectured circumstance.

Lisa's eyes lazily drifted at the casket of baby mushrooms her husband had cultivated right before winters. With nothing much to add weight to the meal apart from potatoes, mushrooms seemed like a saviour to the imperfect blend of vegetables. With a strenuous exert on the blunt blade of the kitchen knife, Lisa could finally add a diced set of mushrooms before she placed the lid to leave the blend to a generous simmer.

Several minutes after the stew gave a wavering aroma, Lisa took off the lid, wafting the vaporising steam that briskly escaped. Stirring the contents, she dipped the wooden ladle to take a sip; the broth was satisfactory however, there was something very unpleasant that turned her stomach. Within a fraction of seconds and years of self-evolved experience in cooking Lisa figured out the missing element — rice.

Lisa had her own share of regrets, which were mostly the outcome of her spontaneous decisions. She drooped an odious frown for trading off all the rice grains she had collected from a local pantry with her neighbours in exchange for potatoes. Her eyes were cast disdainfully before the shallow surface of the broth, a hazed reflection forming on it as her alter ego ridiculed what could've possibly been an act of generosity — some of her dearest friends sat unemployed after having to get away with their jobs. Without a mindless thought she had sympathised with their living conditions by offering them some rice out of the pitiful sack stacked in her kitchen.

Her husband Jungkook loved to take rice with his bowl of stew and she had denied him a flavourful meal in over months now. Rice could've been the perfect add-on to top off tonight's dinner and possibly the first real meal she could've enjoyed after a while had she not been ignorant about it.

After having sprinkled a seasoning of salt and pepper Lisa went to cover the the lid again, when the windows clamoured violently against their pale white shutters. The windows provided little to no insulation and Lisa could've sworn, the chill of winter flurry was a slap against her perked nipples. The hinges were poorly damaged due to the strong blizzards that were unwelcome in winters and the single pane windows carelessly hung from them. Jungkook had already put his resourceful abilities into use by sealing the loosened edges with adhesive tape which was starting to wear off; the glass threatening to shatter unless repair was ensured at the earliest. The real thing being, repair required a sum and they couldn't afford to fix that.

Just as soon as Lisa proceeded to draw the curtains, her eyes travelled towards her husband hunched over the driveway in his chestnut coloured winter coat and a matching beanie hat resting atop his head. With a shovel in his hand, he stood determined, clearing the compacted snow off the snow clad path so that their car could pick up its first ride for the morning. The car — a Ford Model T, had its own share of pained memories, since it was purchased only a couple months before the Black Tuesday of 1929. Lisa kept pestering Jungkook to get the car home but now, the machine came handy as a third business that Jungkook picked up for the weekends — when he'd work as a chauffeur for the wealthy.

Having a car in the 1920s was seen as a symbol of wealth but now — it was perceived more like a forced possession that had to be contained within families who owned it, a misery as there weren't buyers for the commodity that was once in a crazy demand. What was even more heartbreaking was the very fact that Jungkook and Lisa hadn't been a literal definition of poor but were merely pushed into the pit of bankruptcy in the alerting hour of crippled financial stability — it sought to prick Lisa's heart in the sharpest envy whenever she'd hear about certain businesses that made skyline profits out of this era of recession.

Lisa bit her lower lip, blaming herself watching her poor husband out in the single digit temperatures, being tormented by the frosty winds and his hands trembling to grip the shovel handle as he tossed the ice, heap by heap. His bare hands knuckles had developed pale flesh coloured bruises due to the constant exposure of working outside — it surged a silent rage inside Lisa's heart, as she vaguely recollected she was yet to knit him a new pair of mittens — the older ones that got misplaced (or rather, stolen) from his workplace earlier this week.

The conflict slowly subsided when Jungkook directly looked into Lisa's eyes, a dizzy squint of his eyes when he passed his wife a giddy smile, holding out two of his fingers — gesturing he'll be back home in a matter of only two minutes. Lisa briefly nodded in return when she drew the curtains before bringing the heat beneath the stove to a rest.

Winter proved to be a dreary season; with almost no availability of produce to deserted roads, with only a quarter of wage earners stepping out to earn the bread of the day. Winter was the time there was no harvest, proliferation of debts and limited consistency of work schedules leading to harsh pay cuts. It was all so sad, how the family was devoid of the success that once smiled at them. Jungkook struggled with the additional jobs he would take up to reserve some extra savings, with two jobs on weekdays and three on weekends. He would even work extra shifts and return home listless and exhausted of any strength nor energy that would even curb his ability to speak as his lips would quiver, eyes rheumy and worn out that held enough expressions to describe how he felt.

There was a swift knock at the main entrance following which Jungkook trudged into the foyer, knocking his boots at a corner with a tired sigh of finally experiencing some warmth. He sauntered past Lisa who came to attend him, handing his coat to her before he slumped on a stool.

"The engine looks clogged...we might need to drop by the mechanic tomorrow." He dropped another sigh, sniffling his runny nose that had swelled red and bulbous — a matter of serious concern since the same piteous wheezing sound had continued for a couple days and didn't seem close to getting better.

"Jungkook....are you fine?"

"Why yes, it's just a little cold." He shrugged, blowing into a napkin without a slight bleat for anything. Turning his head away in an attempt to hide his face from Lisa's notice, he pulled out a miniature jar of vaseline, applying the ointment over the agitated area surrounding his nose in a hope that his skin would heal sooner as possible.

The condition was too normalised and merely regarded as a seasonal discomfort because they had to face it, the threat of the illness couldn't be tackled with a non-existent life insurance. So if either of the two fell ill or developed a certain infection, there was no other choice than to cure it using recommendations from people around the neighbourhood and erstwhile, guesswork. A simple doctor's visit would cost about fifteen dollars, equivalent to the ration of six months (or even more than that). Medicines that claimed to be cure-alls had suffered a decline in their guarantee, so it was safe to assume that the sickness prolonged inside of a diseased person for quite sometime after its first symptoms would start to kick in.

Although fretting from within, Lisa knew she couldn't utter a single word — even if she did, Jungkook would twist his answers and joke about how she would get increasingly concerned for things that could be deemed otherwise silly; this year the weather had worsened and created an alarming situation for prevalence of blizzards, so his little cold imposed a greater risk of deteriorating and Lisa was just too scared to think of anything past that.

"I smell something delicious...what's for dinner?" Jungkook commented and Lisa eased some stress, before she replied weakly. "Stew. I've...tried."

"Anything you make would taste great, honey." His voice was ever so kind and polite, that Lisa couldn't quite figure out how perfectly Jungkook laced control and care in his words — just so that neither of that tend to hurt her. Of course she had known, her cooking skills weren't as perfect as his were. Lisa would feel an extreme sense of guilt — Jungkook seemed to be doing everything to alleviate her happiness over his, but her efforts failed to compare with that.

Sometimes she made the simplest of mistakes such as seasoning the dish with an imbalanced ratio of spices — but still get a compliment for that; it would pacify her vexed state and give her some reassurance. However, there were seldom occasions when the anxiety would spike its peak and she'd be nervous, for the undermined amount of efforts for failing to provide a proper meal to her man who had done so much for her, so much for them without a single question about their problems or anything, in general.

All of a sudden, Lisa felt shivers run down her spine when Jungkook stood behind her, his cold fingers brushed against her back when he pulled out he rubber from her hair. She picked up the ladle and stirred into the pot back and forth to prepare the first bowl for dinner. He braided her hair and tied the rubber back into place, before he tucked her braid to the side — planting a sweet kiss to the nape of her neck.

"Can I get some more potatoes in my bowl, please?" Jungkook stirred in the similar demeanour with the uttermost purity in his tone, his arms wrapped around Lisa's waist as he continued to shower her with his little affections. Lisa shyly nodded as her hand dipped the ladle deeper into the pot to fish out some extra spuds of the stew she'd made, ensuring the potatoes came in first. There were chances that Jungkook could've guessed she was totally freaked out anticipating the supper, for his actions sprouted in mostly during times she would resent all the bad in her life; tonight perhaps, he just meant to express through these sweet nothings — that he cared.

After Jungkook took his bowl to the dinner table and settled down, Lisa proceeded to prepare for her meal. From the back of her shoulder, she secretly watched over her husband staring at the clear stew bowl placed in front of him as he waited for Lisa to come on in. The potatoes that floated in his meal were nothing more than a bland ingredient that tackled hunger and enriched a filled belly, which is why Jungkook would always insist of having them. It was energising as well, for he needed larger portions in his construction and bricklaying work that left Lisa with a variety of tasty leftovers — the kales, the carrots and mushrooms which scouted in every serving. Which is why Lisa was feeling sorry today of all given days, because rice as a side meal was the least she could provide for a complete meal when he came back from work.

The pain aggravated even more once she took a seat opposite to Jungkook, who put up a complacent face though she wished she could serve him genuine happiness which he didn't have to enact for her sake. Lisa waited for Jungkook to press the stew against his lips, blowing against the surface for his first taste. There wasn't an overenthusiastic response and he continued to eat in silence, as a routinely measure. Mirroring his actions, Lisa took her first sip as well, the broth tasting mediocre and a slight tase — it hadn't been made from expired stuff this time, to say the least. Staring at her reflection in the shallow depth of the broth, Lisa felt uneasy for an endless tunnel of questions got her thinking, if this was really what was destined in their lives.

Her insecurities knocked incessantly and she welcomed the poison yet again, reflecting upon the flashbacks of the tumultuous period of time she had been with her husband — her dreams, her vows, the pockets of happiness they held onto in the span of weeks, months and years they'd lived together. Jungkook had accepted all those circumstances while Lisa had failed to do that, the effect of which was clear before her eyes. She found herself slipping into the pit of darkness that swallowed her as a whole; the pain had incomprehensibly seized her heart as her brain stirred an incessant badgering of questions she wondered she'd ever get answers to.

The unwavering storm of struggles had engulfed the faltering boat of this marriage.

Lisa's hand subconsciously went to caress her belly, a life growing inside of her. When she couldn't pertain to the basic duties of a wife, could she ever nurture her child like a good mother would?

A promise she'd made to herself long ago of becoming a good homemaker — it was just a mockery in plain eyesight, because she wasn't strong enough in gatekeeping those struggles at bay and furthermore, she added a number of insignificant troubles to get one thing right out of the many things wrong in her marriage. The crisis, how long would it go on, would it ever recede, would it stay as a curse in their lives forever? How else, should she describe their situation — so deprived of luck that something as basic as rice couldn't be part of the daily supper?

How long Jungkook could've suffered if Lisa hadn't been part of this journey with him, if he had chosen another woman over herself? Could Jungkook have been any more happier while eating the same bowl of stew, had he been with someone else other than her?

It wasn't long before a trail of tears cascaded down her cheeks as she tried to choke back the sounds of the existential hopelessness that wrecked her heart. Almost a moment after, she heard a loud clank of the spoon and Jungkook rushed over to her, commissioning her into his embrace as she broke down into an outburst of sobs. And though her eyes went numb and her throat ached from all the crying, she had been stifling the despair in her heart for so long that they had to break open one day and there was nothing she could do to stop them by herself from showcasing a flop show of her vulnerability before her husband.

Jungkook had his arms enveloped around Lisa's hyperventilating self, holding her close enough to his heart that she could hear his palpitating heart. He could already sense the grief that had sought to incapacitate her and he mostly blamed himself for it, since he was so preoccupied with his work outside that the quality time had unbearably reduced; the sense of which was even stronger when he left his pregnant wife at home all by herself to do nearly all the chores in a series of calculated outcomes.

"Shhh...I'm here, I'm here." His voice was endearing, grasping onto her pitiful self like a shield against all of her insecurities and dangers that surrounded her. She grasped onto his shirt, her tears pooling on his shoulder as he stroked her hair, patting her cheeks softly as though gesturing that sometimes it's okay, to not be okay.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled in midst of the endless stream of tears.

"Why would you apologise, honey?"

"For being so incompetent. I should've checked our reserve instead of starting an open charity for donating everything, you must be so disappointed that I can't serve you a meal with rice when you are so devout in doing anything and everything for us, its beyond comparable a-and I..."

"When did I ever say it's disappointing? All I need after getting back from work is a hot meal on a cold day and you always manage to make it. Even when it's past midnight when I'm home, you still keep waiting for me so that we could have dinner together. Rice, is that all your concern? No worries then, I'll work overtime to save enough that we could have a plate of steak and rice, would that be okay?" He coaxed, resting his chin over her head.

With her face burrowed in his chest, Lisa shook her head up and down, humming in response; Jungkook chuckled softly for his wife was apprehensive for something as trivial as food. He raised her chin so that he could look into Lisa's tear-strained eyes; the feeling of her being consoled like a child with insolent demands. Oh darn, how would the home turn out to be like after a few months when he'd be raising two of his babies?

"Jungkook."

"Hmmm?"

"Do you ever regret marrying me?"

"Lisa..." Jungkook sighed at the raised question.

"I really want an answer now, you don't deserve this shit..."

"I won't say much." Jungkook started. "But all you need to know is that a life without you, is like living a life of no direction. And what I mean by that is, I would've lost my hopes long ago and my optimism to live would've pretty much been dead — I don't know if we can get the first big break of our lives to sustain ourselves, but it is you who taught me to lunge forward on the forefront of troubles without actually teaching me anything."

His words might have seemed cryptic, but his message was clear. There wasn't an ounce of hesitation for once when he said those words aloud.

"Do you think we'll be able to afford raising a child?" She asked in a staggering voice of concern that make Jungkook dart his eyes at her three month belly.

"I know, our luck is tough now and having a baby might complicate the situations we're presently living in. But it's gonna be our child....our first child. We've been through worse, sickening times and I'm confident that this phase would pass too. No matter what it takes, we'll still stick together and strive through the maze of these hurricanes as we shall welcome our small bundle of joy very soon. Would you promise that?" Sweeping the tears off her cheeks, Jungkook held his pinky out and locked it with Lisa's, sealing their promise. Jungkook placed his palm right over Lisa's navel, delicately running his hand around as though informing the baby about their promise.

"Shall we go eat now? You haven't eaten properly today and your weakness shows. It's not nice for our angel, yes?"

"But you haven't eaten today either." Lisa interfered and Jungkook snickered. "I had some baked beans with my friend for lunch."

Lisa scrunched her nose in bewilderment as she instantly caught hold of his forfeited lie — Jungkook was allergic to red beans and usually his skin would show rashes over his face and he'd end up barfing for days. Nevertheless she knew, he stirred up relentless excuses just so that Lisa would dismiss her interrogative haul; he planted a kiss on her forehead and giggled.

"Okay, come on. You look like you're in need of a meal right now, honey."

Resuming back towards the dinner table, Lisa took slow spoonfuls of the stew she'd prepared, the taste surprisingly improved than before. Jungkook was already on the verge of completing his meal, effectively using his forearms to directly drink the broth directly from the bowl — he looked absolutely adorable — like a pup guarding its bone. From time to time he'd look into Lisa's eyes with a reassuring stare while she finished her dinner.

Jungkook played the radio, twisting its knob to a particular frequency when a slow jazz melody came on. When Lisa was finally done and she was about to clear the table, he immediately crouched before her, ignoring the pain in his scrapped knee leaving Lisa confused.

"Jungkook? What are—"

"May I have this dance, young lady?" An evident blush crept up her cheeks at the romantic proposal when he extended his arm out; she hesitantly drew her hand, as if her eighteen-year-old self was back, influencing her naive actions. Jungkook adjusted one of Lisa's hands around his neck as he pulled her closer by her waist, while the other intertwined with her fingers. In the small vacant carpet area of the living room they swayed from side to side. The calloused texture of his fingers imposed a strong contrast to his gentle way of holding them.

Jungkook hummed some part of the melody, and Lisa rested her head on his shoulder, the vibrations from his chest lulling her to fall asleep. She couldn't believe they were actually slow dancing in comfort of their little abode, amidst the oil lamps that added a unique golden flair in the dimly lit room.

Lisa developed a scarlet tint on her cheeks, flustered partly by the close proximity and partly because Jungkook looked even more ethereal up close with his sultry voice that erupted the satisfaction of being in heaven on earth. Jungkook couldn't help but look down at Lisa finding her eyelids drooping impulsively from the sleepiness and fatigue, yet the glow on her tired face was so alluring and peaceful to see when she enjoyed the music.

He gave her hand a squeeze, as a reminder that she didn't have to suffer alone by herself as long as he was there for her, by her side. Jungkook had been Lisa's ever so comforting anchor, who had her soul secured in his warmth.

Humming sweetly as their noses touched for a brief instant, Lisa wistfully smiled, capturing their lips into a heartwarming kiss, forgetting all of the pain and suffering they had and disregarding all the miseries that was to come.

For she had known, there was nothing much in their pockets they could hold onto; but whatever it was, maybe it was enough. And smiling into the sweet nothings they had, so bloomed a hope within their hearts; the two — no — the three of them would soon get past this harsh season together.

The music had faded long ago yet all Lisa could hear was her husband who sang some of his own lyrics he had crafted in his silvery voice, laced in honey as he whispered them into her ear with all of his heart.

In the darkness late at night

I lay awake thinking

No hope inside

Suddenly in the distance

Shining like a purple light

You turn around

And smile so bright

Reaching out, you take my hand

And from then on and on

Everything will be alright

Someday the dark clouds will pass

The rainbow will appear and

The sun rays will welcome me

Your every smile, your every word

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

FIN.

The lyrics at the end are actually from the army song Jungkook sang on his 24th birthday vlive! I just manipulated a few words here and there :)

Although majority of my research pertaining to all details reference to the Great Depression era, it wasn't in my original plan of writing it. Here's a funny story that actually inspired me to write on this idea: the other day my bf and I were binge watching Charlie and the chocolate factory and I kinda got influenced from the story setting of Charlie's background. Unfortunately my bf refused to listen to my philosophical rant on poverty and instead he suggested (rather joked) that I draft a one shot out of this to annoy my readers and boom! here we are :)
So I'd better go and thank him for the bait lol.

EDIT: Not Jisoo spamming Lisa's countdown vlive with the Willy Wonka comments lmao😭💜

Also as a reminder note, please continue streaming LALISA properly across all music platforms, we can do this, everyone!

Though there wasn't much of a strong romantic plot here as you can see if you've made this far, I'd still hope you enjoyed this. Keeping my fingers crossed for some positive feedback.🤞🤍
—Authornim.