Sticks and Stones

04: Juicy

You slowly make your way home from the coffee shop, wincing with every breath as your rib seems to hold your lungs back.
Today has been one of the worst days of your life; other than the fact that you gained a new friend in Hana, the new girl, almost everything that could have possible gone wrong today, did.
Mr. Kang at least allowed you to finish your shift today after you begged him, but refused to rehire you.
Freaking Jungkook.
Why is his sole purpose in this world ruining your life? Is he really that attached to Mina?
You have to find another job, fast, and earn some money back before your mom notices that your computer has gone missing.
She won't have any extra to spare; her pay from the hair salon is barely enough to cover your rent and bills each month.
Besides, any extra money that your mom does come up with you want her to spend on herself, not you.
That's why she can never, ever know about the bullying at school; your mom loves her job here and, even though the two of you don't earn a lot, she's happy.
You can't go to any teachers or counselers because your mom can never find out.
The school you go to is the only public school around here, and your mom can't afford a private school. If you were to tell her about Mina, Jungkook, and the others, she'd insist that the two of you move at once.
You refuse to tear her away from her happiness.
Your apartment is dark and silent when you enter it, the cramped space smelling faintly of your mom's perfume and soap. It's a minuscule space, barely big enough to fit the two of you. The main room is a combined dining room, living room, and kitchen, breaking off into a small passageway with a door to either side and one door on the end. The two bedrooms can almost be described as large broom closets, only large enough to hold a single bed and a small dresser each.  The bathroom is a tiny vanity, one step away from the shower/bathtub.
In summary, you're lucky that you have room to breath in the small space.
But at the same time, you love it.
The walls are littered with framed photos of you and your mom, laughing, smiling, and working your way through life together. There are sweet smelling candles here and there, and the overall effect is homey and comfortable.
You lock the door behind you and go into your room, sitting in your bed and gingerly pulling out the collected pieces of your laptop and laying them on the bed. The once precious device is now nothing more than a useless hunk of metal with wires sticking out in random places. As you stare down at it, you bite back tears.
You saved a small amount of money from every paycheck from the coffee shop, for over two years without stopping. It's the only thing of any value that you owned, but now?
You have no computer, and no job to have enough money to buy another one.
The only thing that you want to do at the moment is kill Jeon Jungkook.  His arrogant smile and stupidly sparkly eyes are dancing in your head, mocking you when he isn't even present.
How can people like him and Mina be so cruel?
You don't understand how other people can be of so little value to them that they can toss a person aside simply to watch them break, just how Jungkook tossed your laptop.
On top of all of that, Jungkook took something much more precious than the good condition of your laptop today.
In all of the aftermath of he event, with Mina's beating and all, you didn't realize until right now.
That freaking idiot stole your first kiss.
Sighing, you tug on a strand of your hair in frustration before getting up to wander into the kitchen.
You guess that he technically didn't steal anything since you kissed him and it was , in general, and accident, but the fact that he's the first one to ever have touched your lips makes you seethe with anger.
You first kiss, wasted on a guy like Jungkook.
You had been ready for it to be a sweet, loving guy who was interested in you for your personality.
But no: what you got instead was an arrogant, selfish, entitled, cruel playboy with a nasty reputation and a nastier attitude.
Opening the fridge with the thoughts still running through your brain, you see with dismay that there's no juice left. No. You can't survive a day like this without your favorite juice.
You might spontaneously combust.
Must. Get. More. Juice.
Like a zombie, you pull your shoes on, grab your wallet, and shuffle out the door. It's cool outside in the night air, and the streetlights cast weird shadows on the sidewalk.
Shivering, you pull your coat tight around you and jog the rest of the way to the convenience store.
After buying a boatload of your favorite strawberry-mango juice, you heft the bottles under your arms, ignoring your aching ribs, and start home.
A couple of people mill around the store, eating cup noodles or drinking beer. One man chatters away on his cell phone, another leaning against the wall of the store in a hoodie that covers his face.
A baby cries, a dog barks, and you inhale the familiar fumes of the city.
You have to keep an open mind. Maybe life isn't so bad. One group of bad apples doesn't make the whole tree bad; there are still good people in this city. You just have to make it though the year, then you'll be home free for the rest of your life.
As you zone out, your eyes catch on the guy in the hoodie. The way he's leaning is...strange. One shoulder tilted down, one arm wrapped around his ribs. He takes a step away from the wall, and you notice that he's favoring one leg.
The guy starts to limp down the street, stumbling, and the concern welling up in you is too much to pass up.
Scurrying up behind him, you call, "Sir!", and gently touch his arm.
He whips around to face you, the familiar features forcing a gasp of shock from your lip.
"Jungkook?" you whisper.
For a moment, the boy grasps your sleeves in his large hands, blinking. You can't tell clearly from the shadow his hood is casting on his face, but it looks like one of his eyes is bruised, and there might be a cut on his cheek.
Then he whispers, "Please don't call an ambulance."
And he collapses into your arms.

[A/N]
Unedited
Terry Song will be the death of me