JUNGKOOK WISHED THE week away, spending all of his time completing assignments and getting a head start on next terms coursework. He couldn't be talked into going out, for frankly, he just didn't want to. It was different now that she wasn't there.

By the time the weekend arrived, he was on a train back home, retracing Neva's steps. They'd been texting here and there, but he was cautious to not overstep a boundary. He didn't want to pester her, and knew she'd be spending time with family and friends, so he tried to leave her to it.

Every evening, without fail, he'd send her a gif of a jellyfish. No reason. Just because.

And without fail, she'd send him a gif of an aggressive baby goat back. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, but it always made him smile.

He hadn't told his parents that he was coming home, instead wanting to surprise his mother. Jungkook had always been a little bit of a shit like that, but it also meant that he had the freedom to change his plans last minute if he just so happened to do so. 

Having got the last train home, it was already 10 by the time he rolled into the station.

Hailing a taxi from the station, by the time he was on his street, it felt like he had never left.

"Ma?" Jungkook called out as he pushed his front door open, haphazardly jiggling his key to remove it from the lock.

The home he had grown up in was small, without enough windows to properly light the place. During the summer months, it never mattered so much, as his mother would just leave the doors open with a screen keeping the intrusive bugs out. 

In the winter, it was dark.

With Christmas looming, he'd been anticipating it, but his mother always managed to make the home feel somewhat cosy; which is why Jungkook was surprised to be greeted with such an empty shell. Perhaps she had been waiting for him to come home to help decorate?

The curtains in the living room were drawn, his father sat in an armchair, letting a cigarette burn between his fingers.

His mother hated the smell of cigarette smoke. 

She'd despaired when found a packet of the cancerous little fuckers in Jungkook's school trousers during high school. He'd been grounded for a month, but it didn't stop him from hanging out his bedroom window to have a smoke morning, noon and night. 

Eventually, the romanticism he tied to being a tortured soul with a bad boy complex fizzled out, and he realised that he actually looked like a bit of a dick when he smoked. He saved cigarettes for nights out, when his drunk body told him it was a good idea, or if there was a pretty girl to flirt with while sharing tokes.

Admittedly, he hadn't done that since Neva had given him a lollipop in the club smoking area a couple of months ago, but that was neither here nor there.

Tossing his bags by the foot of the stairs, Jungkook approached the sitting room cautiously. 

"Where is she?" Jungkook asked, not really caring to greet his father.

It had been this way since Jungkook could remember. His dad never came to his sports day as kid, nor did he ever really show any interest in anything Jungkook did, unless there was some way in which he could critique it. Thankfully, his mother was an angel and made sure Jungkook never went without the love and affection a child should be given in abundance. 

Inhaling on the cigarette, which was burning so close to the filter that it must have felt like breathing fire, his dad remained silent for a moment. "At your aunts." 

"Oh, right," Jungkook walked through to the kitchen, opening up the fridge. It was one of the old types, as tall as his mid-chest, with a small freezer up top with a separate door. They'd had it long as he could remember, and he'd once got himself stuck inside it for ten minutes during a particularly hot summer when he was seven.

Opening it up, he leant his body weight on top of the door, a warm yellow light illuminating his face as he peered in. He knew exactly what he was looking for: watermelon. His mother would eat them by the bucket load, and in turn, so would he, but it wasn't something he'd had much of since being at college. Truth be told, he hadn't had fruit in about three weeks. It was well overdue. 

Frowning, Jungkook exhaled a sharp breath. The fridge was sparse, only butter, a little bit of milk and a leftover pizza. There were no vegetables, none of his mums kimchi, no overnight oats. 

Tapping the door shut, Jungkook heard a fly buzz past his year. Unusual. The chill of winter normally killed them all off. Turning to see what else was on his mother's shopping list, which was always pinned up next to the calendar, Jungkook began to realise that something wasn't quite right.

There was washing up still left to do in a sink of stale water. The bin was full and the dogs food bowls were gone. There were enough cans by the back door to build a replica of his and Jimin's Stella can Christmas tree, and the calendar hadn't been turned over since October.

In place of the shopping list was a brown envelope pinned to the wall. 

"Dad?" Jungkook called. He was met with no response. "How long has she been at her sisters?"

"A while."

If Jungkook really wanted to psychoanalyse himself, it would be pretty easy to tell where his elusive nature came from. Cold, avoidant of all emotional responses that weren't aggressive, and as personable as nail-studded baseball bat, Jungkook wasn't sure if his father had always been this way. 

His mother was soft, warm, and had a laugh that could end wars. Perhaps they'd complimented one another when they first met. Jungkook wasn't too sure - he'd never witnessed it.

"She coming back?" 

It was a question said airily, though it carried quite some weight.

Walking into the living room, Jungkook perched on the side of the sofa. His father simply shrugged. "Does it look like it?"

With the state of the place, Jungkook hoped she wouldn't.  "Divorce then, is it?"

He had been joking with a question like that, but part of him didn't find it very funny, not when it was a likely option. 

"She not already tell you?"

Fuck.

"Clearly not."

"Well then yeah," his father spoke without much vigour, not turning to face his son. "Divorce it is."

"Oh," Jungkook couldn't find the words to articulate an appropriate response. "Right."

Now Jungkook was no parenting expert, and he certainly wasn't a divorce expert either, but he was almost positive that there were better ways to go about telling your child that you were divorcing.

"There's pizza in the fridge," his dad said, as if that would fix anything.

"Right. Thanks."

There was silence, the television droning on in the background, news reports of world affairs and domestic festive events. The world still turned. Lives were still lived. 

Jungkook didn't want to let the uncomfortable discord settle in his chest, festering.

"Gonna heat the girl up," Jungkook said, standing and reaching over to the key hooks. "Has she been run at all?"

"Not since you left, no."

Nodding, Jungkook headed towards the front door, car keys in hand.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he left, he didn't really plan on staying at home. Not when the atmosphere was like that. It was his own fault for trying to surprise his mother. If she'd have known, then she'd have come home to greet him, sat him down and told him properly. 

The door closed with a soft click behind him. There was no need for anger, no need for aggression. If anything, Jungkook was relieved. His mother hadn't been happy with his father for years. It was necessary. Needed. 

It still hurt, though.

Without Jungkook there to bind them together, perhaps it had been inevitable. Had it been his fault that they reached this point? Was he to blame? Or had his presence forced his mother to stay in a loveless marriage? 

It seemed like no matter which scenario was most likely, he was still a factor, and that in itself was nauseating. 

Covered by a tarp to preserve the brilliant postbox red paintwork, Jungkook uncovered his pride and joy: a '75 Hyundai Pony. He'd bought it as a fixer-upper, and finally had the time to do it during his extra year at school. It had been a labour of love, and at times he thought that he might have to throw the towel in, but it ran like a beauty now.

Slipping into the driver's seat, the leather squeaked as he tossed his bag into the footwell of the passenger seat. His phone was tossed into the compartment beneath the radio (of which he had upgraded - there was no way he could be without an aux). He'd always loved the scent; a mix of petrol and the rich, earthy tones of his upholstery. 

Taking a moment to refamiliarise himself, Jungkook ran his hands over the steering wheel. It was wooden, custom made to replace the plastic factory wheel, though he still kept that safe in the boot. His hands moved across the dash and down onto the gear stick. Eventually, his back relaxed, finding some sort of peace from knowing that his car gave him the ability to run away, if he so wished.

It was tempting.

But as Jungkook twisted the key in the ignition, it wasn't at the forefront of his mind. It took a couple of tries to get the gas pumping through the system, but finally, she rattled into action. Purring like a lioness ready to hunt, Jungkook's little beauty ran like a dream.

He didn't know where he was planning on going, but he chose not to question it.

Just like he chose not to question his hands moving of their own accord, reaching for his phone and typing out a message.

Across town, Neva's phone buzzed.

(1) New Message:

Kook: you up?x

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a/n: this is 1975 Hyundai pony in red, save you a google. they were the first car that SK started mass producing for an international market and pioneered the way for the global SK automotive industry. i thought it would be a fitting car for jungkook lol, plus they're cute in the same way that old vw golfs are (kinda ugly, but cool? if you get me?) x