"Is something wrong?" I open the bottle for him, and he grabs a box of pills in a cubicle. "I feel sick...I have a migraine..." he gets two painkillers and swallows them.

"Oh, has this already happened to you?" I look for the heating pads and take one. "Yes...but it's horrible...I feel like dying..." he leaves the bottle down on the flat surface, and I move up to him while the pad is warming up. "Wait," I put my hand under his bangs to touch his forehead and check his temperature, his eyes remaining closed.

I remove it once I do not feel any signs of fever but brush my thumb over his cheek, hating to see him in pain. "It's going to be fine, don't worry. I know what it feels like," I try my best to reassure him, and I turn towards the bowl full of fruits. I grab a banana, and I go towards the fridge. "You can get on the sofa and lie down if you don't want to go back to bed."

He does as suggested, and I get the bottle of milk, I pour some in a cup and put it in the microwave for one minute. I also focus on the food, turn the induction off since it is cooked, and I take the cup out once it rang. I add some cocoa powder to it since chocolate milk can help to make you feel better in any type of situation, and I leave the spoon in the drink. I grab the banana, the heating pad, and the cup to head towards the young boy.

Noticing he is lying down while hugging a cushion, I place the cup down on the coffee table and squat down before him. "Here, leave this on the painful side," I hand him the heating pad, and he puts it under his head to have it against the right side of his face. I do not tell him to do anything else but pull the peel of the banana down, and I break a piece of it to feed him. "Eat this. The painkillers will hurt your stomach if you don't."

He listens to me and takes it in his mouth, so I do it slowly and make him eat this entirely. I do not speak, knowing that quietness is the best when you have to deal with this type of pain. However, I kindly rub the aching side of his forehead, passing my thumb over it and his eyebrow arch, where some triggering points are.

He does not complain but lets me do it, so I continue. "I don't want want to go to school today..." he mumbles through the discomfort, behaving like this for the first time. I have never seen him deal with pain or show it, so this hurts me. "I'll talk about it with your dad. Don't worry. He's taking a shower right now," I give him another piece of fruit, then continue the massage.

"Okay..." he chews on it, slowly, like a baby, and I smile. A door getting opened, I peek in that direction and see Mister Jeon walk out of the bathroom in a black turtle neck top and a pair of tight jeans. "I'm coming back," I press a caring kiss on Hajoon's forehead. "Try to eat the rest," I leave the banana in front of him and stand up to head towards Mister Jeon, who is fixing his top in his pants. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," he nods but glances at his son with evident concern. He follows me towards the kitchen. "What's wrong?" he asks without waiting. So I explain to him while serving his breakfast in a dish. "Hajoon is feeling sick because of a migraine, and he just woke up a few minutes to take two painkillers, but he told me that he doesn't want to go to school...He's really not feeling good."

"Oh...all right, I see," he understands. "He'll stay home then. I don't want him to go in this state," he does not even think twice before making his decision. He is such a good dad. Mine would never have allowed me to stay home and rest.

"So, you're not leaving the house, are you?" I lay the dish on the kitchen island next to us, and he sits down in front of it, but I do not get by his side, still feeling nervous whenever he is near me, not knowing how my heart should feel. To be honest, I cannot even tell if this nervousness, pain, or discomfort. "I'm just going to go shopping because I want to buy some stuff," he grabs the chopsticks to dig in the food. "Okay," I do not say anything more, still thinking about the other night's talk.

I unconsciously toy with my fingers, and I turn in another direction to find something to do. I need to be busy with something for my kind to be occupied with better thoughts, so I walk up to the coffee machine and pour some of it in a cup, add some milk, with some unsweetened sugar, and I go back to him to leave this drink next to his dish. "Here you are."

"Thank you, sweetheart," he smiles at me. "And thank you for the food, this is delicious," he does not forget this sentence he always feels the need to say, and I return the expression. "Have you eaten something?" he rotates the stool, on which he is sitting, to have his body directed more towards me.

"Not yet, but I will," I answer without a lie, but his gaze turns into a stare, fixed on my eyes, focused through my soul. He swallows what is in his mouth, but for some unknown reason, he takes a peek at the living room as if he wanted to check what his son is doing, and he looks back at me.

He takes my hand in his warm and big one, and he drags me closer. "Sit down," he gets the seat next to him ready for me, but my heart clenches, loving his touch on me and hating the distance that has to be left between us. He picks some of the meat and rice with the chopsticks, and he flies it to my mouth to feed me. I do not even go against this or refuse, I open my mouth and eat.

"Did you have a good night?" he asks me, making me realize I did not try to know about his first. I nod. "And you?"

"I did too," he gives me more, being gentle and careful. Either I am the only one who feels the tension and cares about it, or it is indeed high, and he just does not let it show that it affects him. "And how are you? Are you okay? Mentally, physically?" he keeps his eyes fixed on mine, but I drop them to his lips. "I am. I'm fine," I fake a faint smile to not be too obvious. "What about you?"

"As long as you are, I am too," he does not give a clear and reassuring answer, but I do not go any further. I gaze down at his hand that he barely uses anymore, still worried about how injury. "How's your wrist doing?"

He looks at it as if he did not know himself. "Fine, I'll have to go to the doctor soon," he takes this lightly when this is more than clear that the hues on it are not there for no serious reason. "Hm..." I emit, rotating my chair from left to right.

He clears his throat, looking down at his food, he leaves his chopsticks next to his food and grabs his cup to drink. This feels so weird between us, even though we said we would not let what happened drift us apart, this is exactly what is occurring.

"Does Hajoon often deal with migraines like this?" I try to not make it awkward and find a topic to broach. "It does not happen often, but it already did a few times, so don't be worried," he relieves my fears, and I trust his words. He knows his son better than I do anyway.

Feeling the need to go away from him, I get back on the floor, and I move to the counter where all the stuff that I used to cook is. I put the utensils and dishes in the sink, and I wash them to not stay there without doing anything.

30 minutes later...

"I'm leaving. I'll be back in a few minutes," Mister Jeon grabs hold of his keys, and I watch him put his shoes and jacket on from the sofa on which I am. "Can you buy some banana kicks, please?" Hajoon requires under his heating pad, and Mister Jeon agrees with a smile but sets his eyes on me. "Would you like anything?"

"No, thank you," I shake my head. "Okay, see you later," he opens the door. "Love you," slips out of his mouth, but Hajoon says it back, and he steps out of the house, making me wonder if it was meant for me too.  I would not be allowed to say those words anyway.

Hearing nothing but the silence of the house, I stay on my spot without doing anything but thinking about Mister Jeon.

"Are you okay?" the sleepy voice leads my eyes up to the boy, and I come across his darkened features, looking at me. "I am. You should ask this question to yourself though..." I mention at the sight of his messy hair and tired face, but he takes it without getting offended and chuckles. "I'm fine...I'm strong. As tough as my dad."

"Why aren't you at school then?" I shoot at him without meaning to be mean, and he does not move anymore but stays with his face under the heating pad. The silence answers the question for him, but he clears his throat. "I didn't hear anything," he manages to make me laugh like an idiot.

"You're laughing at a person in pain...that is mean, ma'am," he tries to make me feel bad, playfully, and I hold back from throwing a pillow at him. "Hey. Keep quiet. Don't move your lips, it tires your face muscles and doesn't help your migraine."

"That's one of a way to tell me to shut up," the tone of his voice buried under the item causes me to not be able to stop the giggles from escaping my mouth. "I always say it with respect and kindness."

"True, that's why I like it when you roast me," he says, out of the blue, and I grin. "Anyway," he rolls on his back and raises his arms up to cover his face with them, getting his hoodie to follow this movement and reveal his stomach.

He stretches his skinny body, wriggling around, cutely, and he moans before moving up. "Fuck, it hurts so bad," he bites his lips, regretting what just caused a rush of blood to his head and worsened the pain. After remaining frozen in one same position, he crawls up to a corner of this u-shaped sofa and goes on his knees.

"Hey, cute girl," he grabs my attention, but this reaction gets him to sneer. "Ah, you see. You know you're cute," he wins after an argument that we had about this the other day, and I hate him for making me contradict my words indirectly. "Come here," he gestures me to get close, so I stand up and step towards him. "What do you want?"

"Sit down here, please," he pats the spot in front of him, so I do as told to make him happy. "Now put your legs over the sofa too," he guides me to do something particular, and I do not even send him packing. I put my legs on the cushions but engender a position with him between my calves, and without letting a word out, he bends over and lies down on me, with his head on my chest, and his arms around my waist.

"Cuddle me, please...don't hurt me more than this migraine," he plays with my feelings to make sure I give in. "Don't use blackmail like that, boy."

"I'm not," he smiles like a baby, pretending to be innocent, and I do not even get bothered, he is adorable. I hug him back to comfort him. "Can you do the thing you were doing earlier on my face?"

"Did it feel good?" I look down at his features and hold the heating pad on the side of his face to be able to massage him at the same time. "Yes. It was pretty soothing."

"Good," I do it and help him, glad to know I am being useful. "Do you think that...you know...my dad gives a magic kiss to my little brother when—"

"Don't even try," I cut him off, knowing where this sentence is going, and we both giggle, but he raises his chin up. "You don't even know what I was about to ask."

"Yes, I do," I confirm with no doubt, but gives me a look of provocation. "A kiss. I'm not a fool."

"A kiss? Oh, you want a kiss?" he tries as hard as he can but only makes me feel soft at how cute I find this. "Here," he presses his lips on my cheek and lays his face on my chest again.

"You really are a brat, jeez," I shake my head, disbelief readable through my facial expression. "I know," he does not even deny it, he squeezes me in his arms and exudes some delight from being so close to me, in my arms.

•••

7:50 am.

'JUNGKOOK'S P.O.V'

I walk back inside the house, holding the two bags with one hand to open the door, and I close it behind me but instantly fall upon my son and y/n. I do not make any noise, noticing that she is sleeping with her head resting on her hand. Hajoon is probably doing the same, but with his head on her breasts.

I do not know how to feel about this. The only thing I know is that I do not have the right to let those emotions be negative. I ignore the feeling I have in my chest, the guilt eating me up, I take my shoes off and get closer to them. My eyes go for her right away, gazing at her peaceful expression, how beautiful she is. Then, I check up on Hajoon but discern the calm upon his face, and I understand that he is dived in his sleep, so I quietly go away and move to the kitchen.

Seeing them both like this, especially my son, makes me feel some loath towards myself for the things that I have done.

I drop the bags on the counter but cannot think straight, my head feeling in a mess, I flatten my hands next to what I just left before me, and I peek at y/n. The sickness I cause to myself for being the type of person I would never have thought to be, traps me in a torment. I glance away, hating this moment, those thoughts and remorse, I stare into space.

I breathe out, heavily, but I oblige myself to clear my mind and not let my emotions take over me. Feeling guilty for what I did to my son will not erase anything.

"Did you just come home?" the boy's voice takes my eyes off of the bags, and I see him look over the back of the sofa. "Yes," I answer but look for the banana kicks I bought, and I grab them to walk up to him. "Here," I hand it to him as he went back in the position he was in, and he gazes up at me. "Thank you," he smiles and grabs it, but I peek at y/n and do not go back where I was.

"Don't stay on her..." I speak in a low voice to not wake her up, but his eyes stare at me with confusion. "Why...?"