jangmi (장미) ● taejoon

s e v e n t y .

Jungkook kept Seokjin at his house, watching the drunken man snore on his couch. Tossing Yoongi's car keys onto the kitchen counter, taking off his jacket and running his fingers through his hair with a tired sigh.

These past days, he's been learning how to grow up faster. He took Yoongi's car after school to teach himself how to drive when his brother was at the hospital, he learned how to cook more with the less they have while mama works her days away, he learned how to fight without Jjang's help nowadays.

He finished his homework at school in order to have enough time to visit, and studied with Jae in the morning - coming extra early, the crack of dawn. Drinking a ton of energy drinks since he hated the taste of bitter coffee.

Jungkook places a blanket over Seokjin's sleeping body before walking over to the hallway closet to pull out a backpack that dropped with a loud clink. Slinging it over his shoulder and grabbing a couple empty cans from the kitchen. Heading to the backyard, there in the center stands a table.

Bullet holes scatter the wood, and empty bullet shells are filling an empty jug beside it. Jungkook places the backpack on the table with the familiar clink, zipping it open.

Humming a soft song between his lips, pulling out a vintage revolver from the worn out backpack. Watching the sky reflect off it, trailing his hand over it before grabbing a magazine.

The young boy takes out his phone to time himself to deconstruct the gun - understand the built of it. He use to secretly watch Yoongi deconstruct pistols through the crack of his bedroom door when he was in middle school - he never knew it wasn't a toy, and his big brother was doing it keep that weapon in the house if there was an intruder.

Jungkook lifts the gun up and let the magazine easily slide down onto his palm, letting the gun become completely useless before stopping the timer. Three minutes.

"... I can do better," Jungkook tsked, shaking his head, putting the gun back together before grabbing the empty soda cans and setting them up as a line along the table. "Jjang can do this in ten seconds."

He knew Jjang wouldn't like this. Mama wouldn't like this. Yoongi wouldn't like this. Namjoon wouldn't like it. They had to realize he was growing up, and sometimes you have to grow up fast. The mortala was losing people, Jungkook knew that.

He knew deep down, this wasn't the path he was suppose to grow up in. Sometimes, you don't get to chose your path.

Jungkook placed the silencer up onto the nozzle, aiming the gun onto the line of cans. His bruised knuckles he kept hidden behind makeup, ached in pain as he clenched his hand around the forbidden weapon.

"Yoongi, you need to keep your brother away from my house!" Namjoon sighed frustratingly, "He's just a kid! He's only thirteen! I don't want him around this, around the gang!"

"Namjoon, I just- all I'm asking for is help!" Yoongi pleaded, slamming his hands against the fragile dinner table. "There's kids at his school whose been selling drugs around, I don't want him doing it either! But i can't stop it! I just... I don't want him becoming a fucking dealer at thirteen! Our mother is barely goddamn around, I'm almost disappearing from his childhood. I-I need your help raising him! We don't have a fucking father, Namjoon. Reminder that."

Jungkook sat quietly in Namjoon's bedroom, looking down at his lap. Dirt scatters his school uniform, blood pouring from his nose and down onto his white collared shirt. He quietly cried into his scratched hands - smelling the scent of cement and blood on his palms. Tears in his uniform resembled his tampered innocence. The only thing that keeps him company is the small tiny cactus flower on the windowsill and the thin walls that couldn't even hide whispers.

"This god forsaken neighborhood is filled with drugs and it's a goddamn hell," Yoongi hissed, "We can't afford to move out either. Namjoon, I can't keep him away from it. I can't work a normal job that gives me a dime a
damn hour to help feed the three of us! My mom works her whole soul off, I haven't seen her smile since Jungkook's first day in school. We barley have enough to pay for a new uniform for him."

"All I ask is you help me keep him safe," He shouted, his eyes pouring desperately. "... I-I don't want him to grow up and be like me. I want him to be him."

"... I'll give you my check from my
teaching salary, so you can buy him a new uniform, backpack, and shoes," Namjoon sighs, "... Take him to the store on the weekend, buy him new school supplies too. Make sure he gets what he needs. I'll tell Jin to drop him off and pick him up for now on with the other kids, so he can watch him. I promise, I'll take care of him. I don't want him getting beat up by the other kids again."

"... But you promise me," Namjoon grabbed onto Yoongi's hands and held them tightly, "Promise me that you won't let him become this. He doesn't deserve to handle all of this chaos."

"... Don't let him romanticize violence just because all the adults do it. Please, break the cycle starting with him."

[unedited]