"You're a doctor, so I need to ask you a question," he lifts his pen up but seems ready to say something dumb. "Let's imagine that someone attacks me, no one is there to help, and I know a technique. The guy fights me, but I manage to tackle him down and make him end on the ground, so I put my hands around his throat, but," his story does not have an end yet, making me fear what he might say. "I do not know exactly how to put my hand to choke him without killing him. How do I do to know the difference between the air pipe, and the blood flow?"

"Why does it matter in this type of situation?" Mister Jeon frowns at him as I did, but this boy remains serious. "Just answer my question."

He sighs and chuckles through his breath, and he straightens his back. "If you want to cut off the blood flow, you apply pressure here—"

"Wait, let me get into the character," he turns towards me. "Y/n, you're my attacker, okay?" he picks me to be the bad guy, and I do not feel good anymore. "Uh...all right..." I still comply to make him happy. "Okay, so here," he puts his hand around my throat, but I hold back from laughing, feeling more embarrassed than something else. "Where do I apply pressure for the blood?"

"You could have done it to yourself, jeez," he does not appreciate this scenario but still teaches him, and he comes closer. Now I'm not embarrassed anymore, I'm nervous.

"Here, remove your hand," he pulls it away from me, and his fingers touch an area under my jawline. "On both sides, just right below the bone. If you want to cut off the air, you apply pressure on the front of the neck to do it on the œsophagus," he shows him without holding this sensitive part of my body. "All right, show me how you would do it."

"What? I'm not going to do this to her, Hajoon," he disagrees, my brain praying for him to not give in and make me have a reaction I would rather not have in front of Hajoon. "Come on, she doesn't mind anyway. Right?" he puts me in an awkward position, but I thoughtlessly let out my words. "I don't...I mean...I can learn too...I guess."

"See, I need to know. It's a great way to remember," he uses this as a pretext, and I peek up at Mister Jeon, but just the thought of having his big, veiny hand covered in tattoos, around my throat makes me clench my legs. "You don't know about that either?" he asks me, and I shake my head.

He breathes out, but he lifts his hand up. "This is ridiculous, but here," he cups my throat in a gentle manner, and his fingers and thumb apply some pressure on my arteries. "The neck is really sensitive, so unless you want to kill that person, you hold back to a certain degree because this is dangerous."

"Can you feel the difference?" Hajoon curiously looks at me. "What difference?"

"Close your eyes and tell me if you can feel how different the two of them are," Mister Jeon advices me to do, so I shut my eyes and let him literally use me. "Tell me if it hurts or if you don't like the sensation, all right? Because I don't want you to lose consciousness," he points out in case I would be stupid enough to keep quiet when I lack air. "Okay."

His hand changes of spot, and he sticks it right in the crook under my jawline, holding my entire throat with one hand, he does it for a few seconds that cause me to already not feel okay. Then he drifts his fingers to the sides of my throat and presses them there. I am not normal, I have a problem in my head for feeling butterflies because of this. Once he tightens his hold a little, I feel how different it is, and I put my hand on his forearm to tell him to stop. I will look dumb if I faint right now.

"I definitely feel the difference, I can still...like my head is not receiving oxygen anymore right now," I put the blame on this action as I can feel how hot I became, the heat on my face embarrassing me. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, don't worry," I reassure him but know that I'm facing them with a face covered in shame. Mister Jeon does not look away from me, and Hajoon roasts me. "Why are you blushing?" he makes fun of me, and I leave my stool but send him a look full of hatred, before moving towards the food to escape.

"By the way, dad," they finally talk about something else. "Why aren't you working in your office today?"

"I did everything when I was at work," he lies to him, not ready to tell him the truth yet. "Oh, okay."

"My schedule changed though, I'll be able to drive you to school and pick you up if you want," his words hurt me since I know what he hides, but Hajoon does not even understand or suspect anything, he gladly accepts. "Does that mean I have the right to wake up a little later in the morning?"

"Yes," he chuckles, not even showing any hint of the pain this must cause inside of him. "Damn. This is heaven. Y/n, what will you do after dinner?" he gets me to turn around. "Wash the dishes."

"Can we play together after that? I'll help you to wash them," he never forgets about his games and me, and I do not say no. "Sure."

"I'll wash the dishes for you, so don't worry about it," Mister Jeon makes it change, and he looks at me and smiles. "No arguing," he knows me way too much, preventing my 'no need to' from leaving my mouth.

— Two days later —

Thursday, December 17th, 2020.

1 am.

I get out of my bedroom, unable to find a way to fall asleep, I head towards the kitchen but see some light the more I am approaching the living room. Once I am there, all I can see or focus on is Mister Jeon, busy on his computer in the dark. He pulls the screen down to be able to make out my silhouette, and he puts his glasses up on his head.

"Aren't you sleeping?" I ask him, getting closer. I bend over the back of the sofa but do not try to look at what he is doing. "No. I can't, but what about you? Why are you awake?"

"I can't sleep either," I reply with tiredness and step towards the kitchen. I turn a light on but hear him join me, so I take a peek at him after getting the bottle of milk out of the fridge but fall upon him in a pair of dark grey sweatpants, and the nightshirt that matches them, but which is opened enough to reveal his chest. He puts his glasses back on his nose bridge. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm just going to try what people claim to work when we can't sleep. I'm going to drink a cup of warm milk," I test this method, and he inches closer to me and stands by my side. "Hm, I'm going to drink one with you then," he grabs another cup, so since I still have the bottle in my hand, I fill it for him. "Thank you," he takes both of them and puts them in the microwave. "Let's see if we sleep like babies after that," some mockery can be heard in his voice, and my eyes direct their disappointment towards him. "Are you making fun of me?"

"I'm not," he lays his hands on the kitchen counter right behind him and leans back on it, grinning at me. "Why does this sound like a lie, Mister Jeon?"

"I don't know, it does not sound like one to me, y/n," he calls me by my name to tease me, and I hold back from laughing nervously. "All right then, I believe you."

"Yeah, you should," he goes forth to straighten his back and raises his arms up, stretching right before my eyes but revealing his lower abdomen, where his v-line can be seen. I do not peek down there again, being respectful and innocent, I set my eyes on the microwave but hear him moan after cracking his back. "Ugh...I'm getting old," he cracks his neck as well, and I cannot restrain my eyes from having a glance. "Would you want a massage?"

"Well," his flirty smile works, his veiny hand holding his shoulder that seems tense. "If asked so gently, how could I refuse?"

"I'm not good at it though," I take the cups out before this could ring and risk waking someone up. "Yes, you are, I know it," he surprises me with an affirmation, and I raise my eyebrows. "And how do you know that?" I do not trust this much confidence, and I drop a straw in my drink.

His brown eyes land on me, one hand tucked in his pocket, he takes a sip of his drink but smirks before walking back to the living room.

What was that? What does that mean?

"Hey," I follow him, catching up with his steps to tug on his shirt. "Don't give me that look without answering."

He scoffs but heads to the sofa, so I catch his arm and stop him. "Isn't it better if we get in my bedroom?" I try my luck, hoping for the answer to not hurt my feelings. He does not even answer, he steps towards me and gives me his agreement, so I lead him to my room, missing his body close to mine and not caring about anything else.

I lock the door to make sure no one will catch us, and I join him on the bed while sipping on the straw. "You did not answer, Mister Jeon," I bug him about it, determined to get the answer. He places his cup on the nightstand and gazes at me. "You'll hate me if I tell you."

"I'll never hate you," I roll my eyes, not handling the suspense. "Still, I can't tell you why I know," he dares to not let it out, so I solve this problem. "Then show me."

The corner of his lips curves up as a response to this, and he understands how desperate I am. "You really wanna know, uh?"

"Yes," I make it obvious for the hundredth time, sliding my feet up the sheets to bend my legs. His eyes move down to my thighs, staring for a few seconds, he glances back at my face and smiles. "Let me give you an example then," he gives in to me, and my satisfaction grows. "Look," he lifts his hand up but brings it closer to my skin, and he cups my thigh, his engagement ring making every touch of him on my body forbidden. Already raising the temperature with nothing but a simple contact, he does not stop himself there. "If I do that," he rubs it, going up but sliding to the inner part once he goes down, and he weakens me, repeating this action, forcing me to hold my cup down on the mattress to not spill the milk. He strokes it one more time, then once he glides it down my inner thigh, I tighten my hold on my cup, but he rubs his middle finger right at the rim of my shorts, getting us to make eye contact when he is turning me on. "Doesn't that prove to you that I'm good at giving a massage because I know how to use my hand?"

A second after this sentence, I get the meaning he was afraid to tell me. If I am not wrong, if I do not misunderstand because of my mind, he was thinking about what I did with my hand last night, and that is the reason why he thinks I am good at it.

I nod, my voice not leaving me anymore. "That is what I meant when I told you that I know," he pulls his hand away, but I grab it, and I ask him to not take it off of me without saying anything. He stares into my eyes, reading between the lines, he puts his hand back where it was, and I place my cup aside for my hands to be free.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" I question him about this, wondering what is on his mind to keep him up. His fingers caress my skin, and he lets his eyes have their attention over my thighs. The silence that comes from him weighs on my thoughts, so I slightly brush one finger over his tattoos, and he looks up at me. "For many reasons...unfortunately."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I give him all the time he needs, and he waits for a few seconds to know what answer would help him the most. "I've been thinking about something since yesterday..."

"About what?" I go slowly, and I notice that this works. "About...divorce. I feel like, I don't want to do this anymore, I don't want to keep on pretending that everything is okay because it just destroys me, and I can't stand the tension in the house anymore only because she's here. I think that, now that I got fired, this is the perfect time to divorce. I can start by telling her that I lost my job, and then I talk about what I saw happening one year ago, and I mention the divorce to give her the papers..." he details with difficulty, the topic still wrenching his heart apart. "But I'm scared to do it...I'm scared of her reaction, the words she will use..."

"You should not be scared, no matter what she will say to you, the only one at fault is her, and she's the bad person, she's the one who hurt you, lied to you, and used you. Do not feel any guilt or pain, you should not because you never did anything wrong," I explain the best way I can, hoping for him to not twist my words or get hurt by them. "But what if she admits that she stayed with me all this time because of my money? I'm terrified to hear it from her."

I think before answering, willing to not make any mistakes. "Will that make her a better person if she does not say that? After all the things she's done, even if she admits it, you should not let it hurt you even more because you know that she's horrible no matter what. She does not care about her children, she cheated on you, she did not even feel bad for it since she continues and puts the blame on you when there is a fight, when you're not giving her attention or showing some love, so even if she says that, do not care because you already know what she's capable of, and she might even say that to hurt you, even if she does not mean it."

He quietly listens and lowers his look to my thighs, so I take his hands in both of mine. "I'm not telling you to do anything. Okay? I just want you to make the right decision, to know what will be the best for you and your sons. If you believe this is better to take time, then take time, if you feel the need to put an end to this situation, then put an end to it and leave this in the past to start a new life with your children who love you more than anything. I understand how difficult it must be for you, even if I never lived that, I can imagine how hard it must be to put an end to a twenty years old life with someone, but when nothing can be fixed, when the person is not there for you anymore, I think the best is to feel the worst pain once for good. It will hurt, but the more you'll wait, the more you'll believe this could be like in the past, the more this will hurt. I'm no one to say that, but I know that is better to let it hurt you for good and be able to move on and not struggle every day while trying to hold onto something that is not there anymore...it's hard, but you sometimes have to let go...and in this case, this is not something that you'll regret doing."

He takes his glasses off and wipes the tears that rolled down his cheeks. "Have you ever..." he intertwines our fingers, looking down at them with his teary eyes. "Have you ever been frightened by the thought of how your life would be right now if that one, specific person was not a part of it?"

I nod, knowing more than anyone what this type of thought can cause to my heart. "Right now..." he rests his head on the wall behind us and gazes up into my eyes. "The thought of you not being a part of it tears me apart. Truly, I do not know how I would have handled these previous months if you were not here, and the more the days pass, the more difficult it is for me to not need you, to imagine myself without you in this house, with me."

His words that are genuine and full of grief hit me in the chest, the emotions submerging me, I smile but lean towards him, and I take him in my arms. "I'll never leave you. I'll always be there for you."

He embraces me with all the sorrow that he feels, and he cries. I never saw a man cry so much, I cannot even imagine the suffering and struggle that he has to go through.

— Next day —

Friday, December 18th, 2020.

5 am.

'JUNGKOOK'S P.O.V'

I get out of my closet after getting ready even though I will not go to work, I nervously pull my hair back and enter the bathroom where Sooyeon is putting makeup on. "Hey, uhm...can we talk once you're done?"

"Talk about what?" she applies the red lipstick she always wears since that day, and I clear my throat. "About something, but I want to sit down and be in a proper situation."

"All right," she answers, emotionless. "I'll wait for you downstairs," I close the door and leave the room, not feeling okay, the sickness in my stomach, the hole in my chest worsening this moment I always feared. I walk down the stairs and move to the sofa to sit down, facing the divorce papers that are turned upside down. I rarely shake out of fright in my life, but I am right now, and I do not know how I am going to be able to even speak.

At the sound of the door opening upstairs, I bounce my leg, peeking down at my hands, knowing the ring around my ring finger will be gone after this discussion. I do not look in her direction but hear her walk up to me, always wearing her pumps in the house despite the number of times I asked her not to.

She sits down next to me, and I struggle to remain calm. "What do you want to talk about?"