WARNING: This is the start of where the more triggering events occur. I would just like to emphasize that I do not support the behavior or language used against the character in this chapter. Please refer to the number in the intro chapter if similar events are happening to you or someone you know.

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Jungkook took a sharp breath as Yoongi's car pulled over into a parking lot close to his parent's neighborhood. He unbuckled and slid out of the car and towards the trunk. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk there with you?" Yoongi asked, rounding the car shortly after Jungkook.

"I'm sure. I'll be fine, but thank you, hyung." Jungkook said as he popped the trunk and reached for his bag.

The trunk closed with a thunk accompanied by a sigh from Yoongi, "If you say so."

Jungkook placed the bag on his shoulder and turned to the mint haired, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, when do you think you'll get to the café?"

"Um, two? Three, maybe?"

"Alright, I'll see you then." Yoongi said, going back to the driver's seat.

"Bye, Hyung!" The brunette waved.

Yoongi waved through the glass before pulling out of the lot and driving away.

Jungkook tugged lightly on the duffel strap as he looked the sidewalks up and down. He had managed to convince Yoongi that his parent's place was two miles closer than it was, leaving him plenty of time away from where he grew up. The brunette turned to the right and started on his way. 

His mother had been the one to answer the phone when he called to stay at their home. Her voice had sounded so soft and full of warmth, much like it had been when he was a child. Then it hardened right as he spoke into the device's receiver. Her voice turned harsh and lost all mellowness. His mother faded into the monster that replaced her in his later years. She had said four simple words to him, "What do you want?" Her stone cold tone didn't faze him and he proceeded to ask about taking up temporary residence in the house. She had laughed, but agreed. After which, she hung up without another word. 

His mother wasn't like that before. When he called from a friend's house or school, her voice dripped so much of sweetness that you could've made four dozen cookies out of it. She didn't care if he woke her up at the earliest hour of the morning because of a nightmare or if she had to sit on the edge of his bed for more than an hour to convince him that there was no monster under his bed or in the closet. She baked brownies or some other sweet treat for when he returned home from school and always knew how to make his bad days good ones. 

His father was somewhat the same. He didn't seem at all upset if for some reason Jungkook were to disturb his work or if the boy were to break something. He would always play whatever board game Jungkook had stuck under his arm and was always one for a game of a catch. He made the best food, too. God, what Jungkook would do for some of his father's cooking. 

After Wonwoo's funeral, it all changed. His parent's closed themselves off. Refused to do anything with Jungkook, let alone look at him. It had hurt. He just needed someone to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that everything would be okay, but no one stepped up to the plate. He was left completely and utterly alone for months. He wanted his Mom and Dad back, but didn't have the guts to approach them. He apologized so many times only to hear silence or slight sniffles in return. Nothing truly reached his parent's ears. 

He became a lot more reserved as a result. He kept to himself for the most part, speaking only to those he was close to before. Nobody seemed to notice, nor did they care. He didn't mind it that much. He didn't want anymore attention than he had to receive. 

The day his parents finally started doing more than ignoring him, Jungkook was happy. Far happier than he had ever been those past few weeks. He didn't care that they barely spoke to him, they had said something and that was enough to boost his mood for a whole week. It all began shifting as those few words turned to many and the words soured every time they were spoken. Those sour words translated to insults, but the nine year old, soon to be ten, didn't understand that. Sure, they had hurt him, but he didn't quite make anything of it. 

It only occurred to him what was happening wasn't normal when they denied him of everything they used to provide and told him all of this was his fault. That Wonwoo's death was every little bit Jungkook's fault. That he had run out in the road intentionally. That he had brought the car into this. That he had forced Wonwoo to save him. That he had done nothing to save Wonwoo in return. That he was a horrible brother and in no way deserved the loving, caring, smart brother that he had gotten. Those words had sat on his shoulders since the first time they were said. They were said so many times that they felt like they were supposed to be there, resting on his shoulders like a comfortable item of clothing. 

They still sat there now, looming over him. That's why he spoke less of Wonwoo than he should've. He felt that he had disappointed his brother in so many ways. He felt that he hadn't lived up to Wonwoo's expectations of him, maybe even shattered them, and could therefore only live in his shadow and look up to the once alive, once promising boy. He had stolen Wonwoo's future and couldn't bear to live it. 

He missed Wonwoo. More than anyone could ever understand. He wished on a daily basis that he could've traded his life for the older's. He wished that he could've been hit by the car instead, let Wonwoo live and grow up to fit into the future that Jungkook stole, the one everyone knew that the older Jeon would fit into nicely. It had always been said that Wonwoo would have a bright future. He was a sought after boy in his classes despite being just twelve and had some of the highest grades in the class. His teachers loved him, his classmates respected him, his family cherished him, and Jungkook had taken him away from not only himself, but from everyone else as well. 

Jungkook shoved his hands farther into his jacket, the cool fall air combined with his thoughts sent a chill down his spine. He could fairly remember this stretch of street. He and his old close friend would run up and down it accompanied by the other boy's mother. The shops all seemed so familiar. Some had darkened a little over time while others had only grown. Old shops that had seemed so new and could draw so many were now nothing but small 'for lease' signs hanging in the windows. The bricks and walls were stained with paint that hadn't been there months prior. He hadn't really taken the time to look at his surroundings on the street the past few years. He had been far too scared of returning home late and invoking more rage than he could handle.

The brunette crossed the street and started down his old neighborhood's road. The houses were all still the same. Quaint, two story, single family homes with little to no vacancies, spare one or two every now and then. A couple of kids played in each other's yards with more toys than Jungkook's younger self could ever dream of owning. He and his brother had looked somewhat the same, minus the very flashy toys. They had been perfectly okay with just a bright red ball. That ball had managed to survive four years of the two boys kicking it across the yard or throwing it towards the other. The last time Jungkook had seen it was when it had deflated and wound up in the trash can just over two years ago. When the ball was getting old, the boys would resort to tag or some other game that didn't require a toy of some sort. Playing pretend was a big game between the two. They could be pirates one day and explorers of a desolate landscape the next. Their scenarios were something that Jungkook could never forget. Not ever.

The path up the Jeon's front door was worn down from all the use over the years and the stairs up were chipped slightly. One of the wood boards on the porch of sorts had come up and was resting near the railing. The door was still a vibrant shade of yellow, his brother's favorite color. It had been somewhat of a thing for his family to do in memorial of his brother, painting the door yellow. They always thought that if his brother were alive or were to come back as something else, he'd be attracted to his favorite color. It had seemingly worked when a blue bird sat on the porch railing everyday after school for a couple months. Then it just stopped showing up. Jungkook's fault, as per usual. 

Jungkook readjusted his duffel strap and knocked on the door. He could hear someone moving about in the house and soon enough, their figure appeared in the tinted glass as well. His mother opened the door, a bright smile on her face which melted off the second she saw her son.

"Oh, it's you." She said, leaving the entryway with her back turned to Jungkook, "Jungil! The boy's here!"

His father's deep voice started cackling from a room near the back of the house. Jungkook felt himself get smaller as the sound of his father coming to the door echoed through the building. 

His father, face now more sullen and hair just a few grey strands heavier than the last time he had seen him, entered the room, another cackle escaping his mouth, "I always told you the little shit would come back at some point." He eyed Jungkook, "You money leeching pig."

Jungkook looked down at the ground, hands clenching the duffel strap tight.

"Can't even look your own father in the eye? Don't you have any respect?" His father huffed, obviously getting aggravated. "Look me in the eye, pig!"

Jungkook shook his head, face still down towards the floor.

Jungkook heard the clap of his father's hand hitting his face before he felt it. A tingling feeling spread across his cheek where his hand was now touching.

"When I tell you to look me in the eye, you look me in the goddamn eye. You got that?"

Jungkook looked up and nodded.

"You think that just because you've been out of this house for so long means that you get to act however you want is not how it's going to be. I make the rules, you follow them. If not, I won't just slap you. Understand, pig?"

Jungkook nodded. 

"Good. Now keep your noise down. I don't want to hear anything out of you or see you until I say so."

Jungkook nodded.

His father left the room, heading off to what could only be assumed was in front of the TV. 

His mother pointed up the stairs, back still turned to the brunette, "Your room's up there. Don't come down." With that, she was gone.

Jungkook rubbed his cheek and started up the stairs. Tears were welling in his eyes. He wouldn't cry, he couldn't cry. He wasn't going to show them that this affected him. He couldn't make any noises and those tears couldn't be shed without its close friend known as noise. He set the bag down on his bed and unzipped it. There wasn't much unpacking to do. He didn't intend to unpack anything but one or two things. He pulled out his pajamas and set them next to the duffel. The room was more barren that he had left it just over six months ago. His dresser was gone and so was the crappy desk that was standing on basically two legs. His bed frame had been switched out for nearly nothing, spare what looked like two pieces of uneven scrap wood. It didn't matter though. He would be out of here in no time. This is just temporary. The brunette seated himself on the bed and took a breath. Just temporary

Word Count: 2132

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Well, October has sucked for K-pop, like absolutely sucked. Wonho, Hwall AND Heesun? Not to mention Sulli, thank you so much Sulli. It's just crazy.
Anyway, my K-pop article was printed! Very excited about that. Started my next story which I'm doubly excited about. I hope you'll support that one as you have supported this one :)
Thank you all for reading and I'll see you next week!