Jeon Jungkook Oneshots

Were we amazing back then?

Jungkook had spent the most beautiful moment of his life doing what he loved with his six best friends. Irrevocably drawn to the arts, to the stage, he was bewitched from the start. He didn’t expect to become big, to break walls with the path of life he chose, to gain so much love from people he didn’t even know. That was something he questioned a lot. Something he felt he didn’t deserve. How was it that he had all these fans that would do anything for him when he had just the same flaws? But those same people had lists upon lists of why he was loved and why he was a role model and sometimes it made him cry in happiness and disbelief.

Well, decades and decades later, his memory was failing him, his body was becoming weaker. He was older now, stories carved into the deep wrinkles of his skin, the past staining the whites of his eyes, the remains of his life engraved into his straining bones. He didn’t know where his best friends were, or he forgot perhaps. But that was okay, frustrating yes, but he was being cared for now. Everyday tasks were a struggle now, if he remembered them, that he needed a carer. Y/n was lovely, and considerate, and loved music ‘almost as much as him’ he would say, which always earned a small laugh. They were also very familiar with his music, but it felt like they were best friends rather than fan and celebrity.

It was late afternoon when y/n decided to put on the ‘Butterfly’ performance for Jungkook. It’s always been said that showing old photos, or talking to the elderly about their past helps them. They didn’t know the science behind it, but it was worth it to see the light return to his eyes, to hear the comments he made every single time, to feel the love and passion he felt for his craft.

"Ah, I’m still handsome," Jungkook grinned, a very familiar mischief in his tone.

Y/n laughed, their gaze moving to the elderly man whose eyes shone as he watched him and his six best friends on the stage he remembered so well. However, their smile faltered when a deep melancholic sigh left Jungkook’s mouth. Y/n knew Jungkook missed his career, it was hard to see him sad.

"What does butterfly mean?"

"Well," he sighed again, the way his lips tugged up and eyes crinkled had y/n already rolling their eyes, but he continued anyway, "I’m pretty sure it’s an insect that flies."

"Mr Jeon," y/n started, a laugh of disdain following, "I meant the song, and you know that’s what I meant."

Jungkook chuckled, crossing his arms around his chest as he thought about your question. "You’ll have to ask Namjoon or Yoongi for that. Which reminds me I haven’t spoken to them in a while, do you think you could give me their phone numbers again?"

He saw y/n hesitate, their smile not reaching their eyes as they nodded. "Yeah of course."

He forgot something again, didn’t he?

"Sometimes our songs don’t have direct meanings," he spoke, changing the subject. "What do you think it means?" he asked as his eyes settled back on the tv screen, hearing y/n humming pensively.

"For me, ‘butterfly’ represents something fragile, which I guess could be a lot of things."

"Memories, perhaps." Jungkook murmured.

There was silence for a moment, the sound of stereo applause filling the ambience before the video ended. There was a faraway look in Jungkook's aged eyes when y/n next looked in his direction.

"I fear that one day I’ll forget the feeling of what it was like to be on stage," he inhaled shakily, his eyes becoming wet. "I often think back, remember their cheers, they loved us so much." Y/n shuffled around, appearing to be looking for something. "Were we amazing back then?"

Y/n sat by him just as his head bowed, his bony and jittery fingers lifting to wipe his eyes. In a second, a box of tissues was handed to him. Jungkook started patting his eyelids with the coarse tissue as his younger companion spoke.

"Mr. Jeon, you deserved all the love you received, you were all so talented and genuine. I’ve seen so many fans say they found your music when they needed it most. You know," they paused, "if it wasn’t for your music my parents would have never met."

Jungkook listened, hoping y/n would continue. Of course he wasn’t a stranger to army’s confessions about their mental health and how BTS had helped them through tough times. He was appreciative, but he had to admit he couldn’t understand why sometimes. "Really?" he asked.

"Mhmm," y/n nodded and giggled, "They met at one of your live shows, one of them spilt a drink over the other. Cliche, I know." They paused again, their smile shrinking and expression becoming more melancholic. "My grandmother told me once that she probably wouldn’t have lived beyond the age of 20 if she hadn’t discovered your music. Your songs made her realise that she wasn’t alone."

Their eyes filled with tears, never looking in his direction. 'Please don’t cry, you know how I am,' he thought.

"You did that Mr. Jeon, you befriended millions by just singing about the emotions you go through, by purely being you. So yes, you really were amazing back then." Y/n placed their smooth, comforting hand over his own gray knuckles, the faint ink on his hand holding so much more meaning the longer he’s lived. "And please don’t worry about forgetting the stage, because I’ll show you."

Jungkook smiled to himself, y/n’s words harking back to a much loved song. The words seemed to echo through his head, his own voice echoing inside a stadium full of people, it was calling to him. His heart felt well rested and full.

"I think I’ll head to bed now," he whispered, his hands gripping the ends of the sofa cushions as y/n hooked their arm under his to help him up.

Before y/n left him to sleep, Jungkook had requested them to play ‘Magic Shop’ for him. 

"Goodnight Mr.Jeon."

"Thank you, y/n."

His response stalled y/n by the door, but they still sent him a sincere smile and nod. 

Before he closed his eyes, he reminisced about his brother’s lyrics. ‘I do believe your galaxy’. Such powerful and reassuring words to someone who felt inadequate. No matter how complex and unique your galaxy is, it’s still beautiful enough to be believed in. Those lyrics were not only a comfort to the many fans out there but also to himself. Heart swelling, emotions started to overwhelm his frail form, but he was too tired to cry now, tears only lining the corners of his eyes. A full smile adorned his face for the last time, and his eyes closed…

But the next time he opened them, he was on stage with his six best friends again, their wide smiles no longer a memory, cheers filling his ears as he sang, and an iridescent purple ocean surrounding them. He never forgot, he found his way home.