football means soccer, not american football. let's all be politically correct and stop calling it soccer. thanks.

❝ —ENVY, like greed and lust, is characterized by an insatiable desire. Envy is similar to jealousy in that they both feel discontent towards someone's traits, status, abilities, or rewards. The difference is the envious also desire the entity and covet it. ❞

Jungkook never slept well without a dose of NyQuil, but his parents didn't know that. He tried not to be too dependent on it, even though he wanted so badly to be able to sleep through the loneliness of the night. Every other day, he opted not to drink the syrup. Every other day, he got no more than three hours of sleep.

He had a football game tomorrow night after school, and a pre-game scrimmage immediately after his last class let out for the day. There was no time for rest in between; exhaustion would probably eat him alive, but that was fine. He didn't expect to do what he loved without there being a few sacrifices, anyway.

On nights like these, he didn't like to sulk in his thoughts. He much preferred watching television, the volume set to just a whisper so he wouldn't wake any of his family up. Just because he couldn't sleep, he didn't have to take from the rest of others.

"Mass shooting at college fraternity leaves fourteen dead. More details at 5 with—"

Jungkook tutted and changed the channel, "Ah, there's so much sadness in this world."

He heard the bedroom door creak.

"Who's there?" He inquired instinctively. His older brother, in his tank top and basketball shorts, pushed the door open to reveal himself.

"Oh, it's just you hyung." Jungkook's heart sighed in relief, "Did my TV wake you up? I'm sorry."

"The TV didn't wake me up."

Jungkook's brows furrowed, he didn't understand.

"Then...?"

His brother entered the room fully now, his heels muted as they thud against the carpet flooring. Jungkook's eyes had adjusted to the dark, so he could see the fire burning in his eyes as clear as day.

"Jaewon, what are you—"

A fist to his jaw.

"Shut up."

His center of gravity was thrown off. He fell back into his mattress with a bounce, and got back up with a little dizziness.

"Hyu—"

"Shut up," Jaewon punched him again, "shut up, shut up!"

Jungkook struggled as his brother mounted him and gripped the fragile skin of his neck. It was useless. The young boy was unfairly outmatched by his brother's brute strength and boiling envy.

"Remember," Jaewon breathed with his brother squirming beneath him,"Remember how I used to be your role model, Kook?"

Hours ago, Jungkook would have never seen it coming. The Jeon family sat around a fair-sized wooden dinner table, chewing gratefully on their matriarch's cooking. Tonight was a bulgogi and jabchae night.

Often times when conversation wouldn't come around on its own, the boys' mother would ask about "the peach and the pit". The peach was the climax of the day, or something good that happened to you; The pit was the low point. Tonight was no different.

When she asked, "So, how was everyone's day?"

And Jaewon replied, "Could have been better."

Jungkook knew everything was about to take a turn left.

Asking Jaewon about his day was pretty much fighting words in their household. It meant you wanted to argue about something, or pry into his reclusive life. It meant increasing the ever-expanding emotional distance between everyone in their home.

"Pit?" Asked his mother.

"I don't know." The twenty one year-old muttered.

"You didn't do anything today, of course you wouldn't know." She laughed, and not in the joking way.

"Ah, Miyoung, leave him alone!" Their father intervened satirically, "You can't blame a jackass for acting like one."

"We've raised a pig, this one. All he does is roll around in his own filth all day since dropping out!"

"Eomma, Appa."

All eyes fell on Jungkook.

"Jaewon is doing all that he can right now. Isn't that enough?"

They didn't miss a beat, "No, it's not!"

"He needs to be more like you. You're twice as talented and three times as educated as this kid."

"I'm an actor." Jaewon tried feebly to defend himself.

"Plays at the local community college don't count, idiot!"

"Acting?" His father clicked his tongue mockingly, "Tuh, what kind of job is acting?"

"It's my job."

"Oh. So when you say job, just asking, do you mean it pays your bills? Because if I'm recalling this correctly, your mother and I still pay those for you!"

"No one said you have to!"

His father stood up on his feet, sliding the chair back with a screech, "You ungrateful little— you useless pig!"

"Appa—"

"You should aim to be something more practical, something like a lawyer. That's what Jungkook wants to do with his life. Get your head out of the clouds."

"Get your head out of your ass."Jaewon's own mother, his own giver of life, said to him. His mouth fell open in disbelief, brows knitting together out of repressed hurt. He prepared to say something else, but in came Jungkook's voice again.

"Stop it."

Jungkook looked up at his older brother and pitied him, but he knew he had potential. He was a great actor, all he needed was some exposure. Exposure he wouldn't get if he kept running off to his room the way he had then.

The boy also got up to follow after his hyung, picking up his plate with him, but his mother gripped his wrist and demanded he sit down.

"We're finishing dinner without him." She bit in coldly.

It was silent, not the awkward kind but the heavy kind, because those were two different things. Awkward silences were short and could even be bittersweet and sometimes, made your stomach churn whether from butterflies or pure nerves. This was not that.

This was the apprehension of speaking, for fear he would say something wrong. This was anger and disappointment and cold feet all rolled into one. This was a cloud of smoke hanging over their heads in their very own dining room, and it was more toxic than anything else in the world.

"So....Peach?"

Jungkook stopped chewing to look at his mother again, who had the nerve to say those cursed words even after all that had just happened. But, he wanted to lighten the mood, so he complied.

"Coach said the scouts are considering me as a major candidate for a full scholarship to the University!"

"You're joking." His father stammered.

"I'm not!" Jungkook said, no longer able to conceal his elation, "I-I-I'm really not! They looked over my academic history too, and they really like what they see!"

"That's amazing, honey!"

"Told you all that studying would pay off." His father patted him on the back.

His mother pinched his cheek and cooed, "Oh if only you told me, I would have cooked anything and everything you wanted tonight."

"It's alright, I think I'll just go to bed early tonight." He shrugged her off, sheepishly playing with the scraps of meat on the plate.

Now he wished he never went to his bed at all.

Jaewon's fingers were strong, like ten little boa constrictors strapped around his throat. He was beginning to feel woozy and ready to give up, but refused to lose to him without an explanation.

"There was a time that you wanted to be like me." His brother spoke coolly, like he wasn't asphyxiating Jungkook to death.

"J-Jaewon...."

"Now, everyone shits on me for not being enough like you. You've turned everyone I love against me. Even Saera."

It was true, even though Jungkook wasn't aware of it. Saera was the younger's noona by a year, and even while she dated Jaewon, she began to form a crush on his smart and athletic little brother. A crush that was news to both brothers, which led to her break-up text, sent and delivered only two hours ago.

"I didn't mean to, hyung." Jungkook choked out in complete honesty. No reply.

"I can't breathe," He screamed, "I can't breathe, Jaewon."

"Don't you love me, Jaewon? Don't you want me, Jaewon, what the fuck!" He panicked, starting to kick and writhe again. He was yelling but without air his voice had become only a strangled cry for help in the dark.

"Look at my little brother, huh? Turning into a man." Jaewon chuckled, surprised at his little brother's surge of strength.

"Scream, Kook. I dare you."

Jungkook screamed as loud as he could until he felt like his vocal cords would rip. He got Jaewon's hands off of him momentarily, gasping for a short breath until they came back again harder than before.

"I hate you!"

"Jaewon, please! I love you!"

"I hate you!"

"I love you!"

Crack.

He didn't know where from, but he heard the smash of a bottle and felt glass raining over his ivory white skin.

His parents kicked Jaewon out that night.

But Jungkook still remembered how it felt to be pinned beneath him, to look into his eyes and find nothing but envious rage there: how it felt to realize that love was indeed a cruel, cruel thing. He trembled terribly and couldn't get a wink of sleep.

Jungkook never slept well without a nightly NyQuil, yet he had never felt an exhaustion like this.

Two months would pass since that haunting night.

He hadn't seen Jaewon since; he didn't know if he wanted to either. The image of his brother hovering over him and the calloused fingers around his neck was still a fresh portrait in his mind. All he needed to do now was let the paint dry.

Back and forth he ran on his school's football field, centered within the race tracks, running the suicide drills Coach Kang had ordered on he and the rest of his team. His head ached terribly, but it wasn't anything serious. He would take an aspirin as soon as he finished the drill, and continue with practice as usual.

Then he began to feel tingly, the way one felt when an arm or leg fell asleep, but in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, shook his head, trying to clear the blue and black blotches that floated over his vision.

I'm just a bit dehydrated is all. Just a bit dehydrated.

"Jungkook, you alright?"

"Yeah," He replied to his concerned teammate, "Yeah, I'm good."

"You don't look it. Maybe you should sit out."

"Yeah, maybe."

He walked and walked across the field with unsolicited leave, the yells of his coach to "get back here" fading into the sky behind him.

He walked toward his duffel bag on the grandstands, and imagined a huge crowd screaming for him there, chanting his name. Fans with his jersey on their back, applauding him. He didn't want to be a lawyer, he wanted to be a star! He wanted to be an Olympian! He wanted to bring home the World Cup for South Korea and die in glory!

His name would die before his body as a laurel wilted before a rose, and no one would remember him after long if he was average. So he wanted to be great. He wanted to be Beckham, He wanted to be Messi, he wanted to be Maradona, Pelé, Ronaldo! There was nothing that could stop him! The crowd went wild!

Jeon Jungkook!

Jeon Jungkook!

Jeon Jungkook!

So he smiled.

He didn't know stars came out at two in the afternoon.

Jungkook was escorted to the hospital after he collapsed on the field. The results and diagnosis were conclusive.

And so he awoke from his medically induced coma hours later, opening his eyes with the hopes of finding Jaewon standing there with flowers for his kid brother, maybe even his desperate parents waiting with him.

Instead he found a woman in a lab coat, who seemed ready as ever to begin the questioning. Meanwhile, Jungkook had little memory to recall and had barely even opened his eyes. It hurt to move his neck.

"Jungkook, good, you're up."

"Huh?"

"I'm Doctor Ki."

"Hello."

Doctor Ki set her clipboard down on the nightstand beside his bed.

"I know you've just woken up, but your parents told me not to sugar coat anything if you came to while they were gone." She bit on her lip, "They want me to get right down to what it is that's wrong with you."

She started, "You probably notice that you're having trouble moving your arms and legs, or pretty much anything below your neck."

Now that she mentions it, I do feel a bit stiff...

"It's because...." The doctor sighed, "Jungkook, it's because you're paralyzed."

Every word that he had ever learned seemed to wipe itself from his brain, save for the four he stammered out for Doctor Ki in a whisper.

"H-H-H-How did this happen?"

She put her hand to the bandages he never noticed were around his head.

"You suffered a cerebral stroke a week ago," Had it really been a week already? Had time flown by so swiftly? "At your age, this never should have happened. My best guess, however, is that you've sustained some major hemorrhaging of the cerebellum. Were you hit in the head by anything recently? A speeding football, maybe?"

The bottle.

Jaewon's bottle.

The shatter of glass right over his head.

"Why did he do this to me?" Jungkook began weeping. Then sobbing. Then bawling. He was lost in hysteria and began to yell between each cry, shaking with tears, "Wh-hy-hy? Wh-hy?!

He wanted to reach out and grab the fabric of Doctor Ki's lab jacket to stop her from leaving but he couldn't even wiggle his fingers centimeters over the edge of the bed to to do so. He wanted to wipe away the tears and snot bubbles. His hand wouldn't obey his brain. He willed it, he willed it and willed until he couldn't anymore. Nothing happened, except for him being left alone to drown in his own tears.

"Kill me, please! Doctor, please kill me! Take me out of my suffering, I'm begging you!"

"Doctor!"

She shut the door behind her. His screams rippled down the halls in vain.