Chapter Text
Jungkook was only half-paying attention to his annual rewatch of Scrubs on his laptop, one of his favored procrastination techniques, when the buzzing of his phone to his right pulled him out of his doze. The vibrations shifted the device precariously close to the edge of his desk. He yawned, rubbed his eyes and paused the show, grabbing his phone before it could fall and flipping it over where the screen showed Joon was calling him.
“Dad? Hello?” Jungkook answered. He hadn’t been expecting a call and worried he’d forgotten something – did he have plans to meet them today?
“Hi Kook, how are you?” Namjoon asked.
“I’m okay, why? What’s up?”
“I just wanted to know how you’re doing. You haven’t called in a while.”
Oh.
There was such unassuming sincerity in his dad’s voice that it made his chest flood with warmth but, somehow, the feeling was bittersweet. Maybe it was because he doubted his dad used this tone with his brothers as often as he did with him. The intrusive thought made the skin hiding under the bandage on his arm twinge. Jungkook traced a finger along a darker vein of wood on the polished surface of his desk. His chair squeaked as he shifted forward to lean on his elbows.
Usually Jungkook was the one to call them. When he felt anxious, which was still quite a lot, he would ring them. It’s not like he needed them to coach him through anxiety attacks anymore, he was past that. Just that sometimes he would be going grocery shopping or to the bank or post office and at the building entrance he would get panicky and would need to find a quiet place to sit down.
”I’m okay,” he would tell them, “just a little nervous is all.”
Then whichever dad he had rung would chit-chat mindlessly about their day and when Jungkook felt a little better he would end the call with something like ”Alright, well I gotta go. I have stuff to do,” as if they were the overbearing parents who had called him. They were gentle with his pride.
“Jungkook?” Namjoon asked again.
“Oh, sorry. I was just working on homework,” Jungkook lied, gaze flicking to the frozen image of J.D. on screen, the actor’s mouth open wide in the midst of a monologue. He did need to work on the coding assignment for his Systems Architecture class in earnest. It had a million errors he needed to debug. He despised the C-language – he was more of a Java and Python guy - and the manual allocation of memory and pointers in the C-family were such a headache. It seemed he couldn’t write a single line without consulting StackOverflow as much as his computer science professors begged him and his classmates to try and figure things out on their own before opening up Google. “And sorry I haven’t called,” Jungkook added, drumming his fingers on his desk. “I’ve just been busy this week.”
“School is going okay?” Namjoon asked.
“I can handle it.” A tricky assignment was something he knew he would work out in the end but his dad’s question was more loaded. Both of them had tried to dissuade him last semester when he decided to switch to full-time studies.
“Okay, okay. I know you can,” Namjoon placated before changing the topic. “But you haven’t been home in a little bit, do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? Jin’s making enchiladas. Vegetarian ones.” His dads were on a bit of a health kick lately, maybe because they were getting older which was something Jungkook didn't like to think too long or hard about.
“Oh, sure.” Jungkook agreed, perking up at the invitation even though he knew he would have some serious explaining to do regarding the healing marks on his arm. They were already starting to scab over. “What time?”
“Well, I’ll be home from work around five. You can come over anytime. Jin already went grocery shopping.”
“Okay, cool.” Jungkook said. He picked off some of Snowpea’s white fur that had adhered to his hoodie and let it drift to the ground.
“Alright see you then, Kookie. Good luck with your homework. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
After the line went dead Jungkook shut his laptop and scrolled through his call history. His dads were the only people he called via SMS since he and his brothers mainly used Discord or Whatsapp, thus he could see the last time he called them at the top. It had been last Friday. Only six days ago. He swallowed. He couldn’t even make it a week without them worrying. Skimming through the rest of his call history revealed he usually called them two to three times a week. He tried to not feel embarrassed about it but it was difficult because he knew this behavior wasn’t normal for other people his age. A couple years ago his first college roommate – well rather his suitemate as they only shared a kitchen - had even commented on it.
“Dude, you’re calling your parents again? Didn’t you just like talk to them the other day?”
Jungkook had stuttered and faltered then, not knowing how to respond.
“I only talk to my parents like once a month,” his suitemate had continued with an air of pride. He was from out of state and took pleasure in how ‘independent’ he was. Meanwhile, Jungkook lived barely a twenty-five minute drive away from his dads and still had to call them practically every day of the week if he didn’t want to dissolve into a puddle of self-doubt.
That was when Jungkook had lived in the university dorm. He’d only managed that environment for a semester, it was too noisy and crowded and chaotic and it triggered his anxiety even if he had lived in a semi-private apartment-style dormitory. Now he lived in an actual apartment slightly off campus. Along with having a nicer, bigger place his roommate situation was better too. His current roommate was one of his best friends – technically one of his only friends and hence ‘best’ by default – Yugyeom. Yugyeom was Korean and had lived his whole life in Korea before coming to America for college. He’d gone to international school growing up and had lived near an American military base, so he spoke fluent English. Although they were the same age, twenty three, Yugyeom was already in his second year of graduate school in Computer Science. Meanwhile, Jungkook was just trudging his way through the third year of undergrad.
Jungkook had taken a bit longer to graduate high school than average – he ended up dropping out after sophomore year and even after getting his GED, took a gap year before starting college. Of course, his gap year wasn’t the kind other people went on like some of his former high school classmates or Taehyung had. There was no backpacking through South America or Asia or volunteering in some exotic rural area. No, his gap year was filled with therapy and emotional regulation groups and trying new medication.
Anyways, during his freshmen year of university Yugyeom had been only one year ahead of him at the time and was the undergrad teaching assistant for Jungkook’s introductory programming course. When Yugyeom wasn’t needed by other students, he had taken to chatting (and distracting) Jungkook during the weekly three-hour practical sessions in the computer lab and, being in the same department, they ran into each other every now and then outside of the course. Yugyeom had convinced him to take some weird bullshit ‘History of Rock n’ Roll’ for their mandatory art elective the following semester. During this time they became close which was unusual for Jungkook – he had long since mastered the art of small talk and could get through daily interactions just fine but he still had high, protective walls built around himself that kept most people at arm’s length. It remained a mystery how Yugyeom breached these barriers so naturally. Rarely did Jungkook feel the tension and nervousness with Yugyeom that he got when their social interactions went beyond the superficial. Jungkook had even taken three semesters of Korean because of him.
That being said, despite Yugyeom’s insistence, he had no real plans to visit Korea. Unlike his brothers or roommate, Jungkook didn’t need to galavant around the world to be content, he had everything he needed right here.
---
Jungkook parked on the street outside his dads’ house and grabbed the mail on the way in, flipping through it disinterestedly. Boring insurance and tax notices and credit card ads. The concept of mail was much more exciting as a child. He walked the few steps up to the porch and let himself in.
“Jungkook?” he heard Jin’s voice echo from the direction of the kitchen.
“Yeah, it’s me, hi,” Jungkook said as tugged off his shoes. When he stood up he came eye-level with a photo of Binky that they had hung years ago on the wall across from the entry way. Sad nostalgia welled up inside him like the rising tides as it always did when he recalled their old Chow. Binky had passed away when Jungkook was fifteen. Even though the dog had been ancient and his passing was peaceful, from natural causes, it did seem to be what initially triggered Jungkook into a downward spiral that had led to a self-harm relapse and his second stay in the psychiatric ward a few months later. To his shame, since his first hospitalization at thirteen, he’d been in-patient twice more. When he returned from the clinic for the second time all reminders of the dog had mysteriously vanished. His parents hadn’t even hung up this photo until years after Binky’s passing, when Jungkook started college and moved into the dorms.
Jungkook let out a soft sigh before turning away from the photo and made his way to the kitchen where he could hear the clatter of pots and cupboard doors. On the way he passed Jemma perched on top of the living room sofa. The moment his fingertips made contact with her she burst out into loud, hoarse purrs. The knobbles of her spine were prominent under his fingers. Jemma was now also well into old age – sixteen - and Jungkook’s heart ached thinking about her inevitable passing. He took a deep breath and crossed the rest of the way to the kitchen where his dad was just standing up from placing the enchiladas in the oven.
“Hi honey!” his dad greeted warmly. “Why the long face?”
Jungkook tossed the mail onto the counter. “Nothin’, just missed you,” he mumbled as his dad shucked off his embarrassing pink oven mitts and strode over to envelop him in a warm hug. He relaxed into his dad’s warmth and the soft fabric of his shirt. Unfortunately, the comfort of his dad and childhood home was a double-edged sword, accompanied by the pervasive feeling that everyone could move on with their lives so easily. His brothers, his roommate, everyone seemed to innately understand how to be independent and responsible and do the college thing and the dating thing without having to call their parents every other day. Meanwhile, it was only Jungkook’s second semester of full-time classes and he was already a couple years older than any of his brothers had been by the time they had their Bachelor’s. Maybe his part time job meant something but it wasn’t impressive – it was on campus at printing services but all his bills were paid by Jin and Joon anyways so he couldn’t pretend the meager paychecks he earned from it were anything more than glorified pocket money. Another sting of discomfort on the skin beneath his hoodie.
They pulled apart, Jin going back to his kitchen duties and Jungkook wandering back to the living room to spend some quality time with Jemma in an attempt to shake off his funk. His feelings of inadequacy were almost made worse because it seemed that his family members expected this sort of thing from him. Everyone acted like it was a big feat that he did the absolute bare minimum of what a young twenty-something from a middle class family should do. His parents often told him how proud they were of him and he could see in their eyes and detect in their voices that the praise was genuine. It was embarrassing that this was the standard that elicited pride.
The rest of his siblings were more or less financially independent. Every one of them had already graduated college, except Yoongi who never went, and Hoseok had his Master’s in Social Work and Jimin had just gotten his teaching license earlier this year and left for Korea last month to spend a year teaching English there. Although Yoongi wasn’t able to generate enough income solely from his work with the music industry quite yet, every year he seemed to be doing better and now his older brother only had one small part time job to sustain himself along with his freelance musical endeavors. Taehyung had seemingly breezed into the art exhibit and museum scene with his Bachelor’s in Fine Art’s although from what Jungkook gathered any sort of art-related career was competitive and difficult.
One of the reasons why Jungkook chose his own degree, Computer Science, wasn’t necessarily that the topic excited him, at least not in the beginning, but it was safe. Even after all these years Jungkook would do anything to just feel safe. It had good job security and limited interaction with other people. Luckily for him, he had learned to appreciate the subject and the problem-solving nature of it required a good deal of creativity so it turned out to be a good fit.
He appreciated that every error he encountered in his homework assignments could be resolved if he just coded the right instructions. In that way computers always worked the way they were supposed to, unlike people. It seemed he’d been following instructions by doctors and therapists and other authority figures his whole life but sometimes he felt he was trapped in an infinite loop of his own neuroses, but he couldn’t merely Ctrl-C and force quit his way out of them as easily as he could on a computer program.
Anyways to his brothers, who had all pursued humanities, education, or social sciences, his choice of major remained some nebulous, abstract thing that they could never adequately appreciate because the mathematical technicalities scared them away. It was such a shame. At least he had Yugyeom to nerd out with.
Despite his satisfaction with his chosen path there was still always the niggling what if in the back of his mind. What if he had taken risks like Taehyung and Yoongi and gone into something that he had been passionate about it? What if he swanned off to Italy or Peru or Korea just because he could?
He’d confided in Yoongi about this before but the eldest calmly assured him that he thought Jungkook’s choice of degree was very admirable, even if he didn’t understand it.
“Besides, Kook, I think there is just as many downsides to working in music as there is to any other field. Hell, even the stuff I’m producing right now isn’t exactly what I’m passionate about – just another cash-grabbing pop track for the newest industry plant. I don’t think passion is sustainable anyways. Discipline is what’s important and you have tons of that. The actual things I get paid for are someone else’s music I’m just ghost-producing. It’s not my vision or my story. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with where I’m at and it’s cool to have my fingerprints on something potentially a lot of people will hear but it’s not the glitz and glam people make it out to be. I’m sure Tae would say the same about whatever the hell he does.”
Jungkook had initially been comforted by Yoongi’s words but that sense of comfort had evaporated after a few weeks. And Yoongi was wrong with what he said about Tae. Taehyung was always the aloof eternal optimist, laid back and boxy smiles no matter the circumstances. He was super into his work and would go on and on about some new exhibit the museum was doing or would even tear up when recounting a beautiful painting or sculpture he had seen.
Jungkook tried not to be jealous of him. After all, Taehyung had forgiven him when Jungkook had been absolutely terrible to him in the period when they had been the only two in the house after Jimin went off to school while Tae remained behind to do a gap year. There were periods of weeks, and even months or years, when Jungkook’s relationships with his brothers would be on thin ice (nearly always Jungkook’s fault because he had been fucking crazy). Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Jungkook couldn’t remember a lot of his lows from his teen years but he was positive whatever he had said or done hadn’t warranted forgiveness.
All these thoughts made the skin on his right arm prickle again. He’d taken the bandages off this morning but the skin was scabbed and itchy, not yet fully healed. Especially the larger one on his inner forearm near his elbow. Jungkook’s wardrobe mainly consisted of oversized dark hoodies, which Snowpea’s white fur got all over no matter how often he used the lint roller, but he still pulled the too-long sleeves discreetly over his hands. Jin would notice eventually but he didn’t want to ruin the evening.
Now, luckily, everyone was on good terms with each other (or rather, on good terms with him) but Jungkook suspected a large part of the reason was because his brothers had scattered across the country in pursuit of education and opportunities. He knew they loved him but he also recognized he had made their lives difficult for many years.
“Jungkook?”
Jungkook startled and blinked back to reality. By the tone of Jin’s voice it wasn’t the first time his dad had called his name. “Oh, sorry, what were you saying?” he asked sheepishly.
“Always daydreaming, aren’t you? Just like Tae. I said Joon will be home soon. But I was asking how your classes were going. It’s not too much? Full-time?” Jin pressed, hands on his hips.
“No, it’s going fine.” Jungkook said, grimacing internally. Jemma stretched and repositioned herself on his lap.
His dad walked around the couch to take a seat next to him. “Great, but don’t be afraid to ask for extensions if you need it, there’s no need to rush.”
Jungkook was registered with the university’s disability services ever since he enrolled. It was what allowed him to previously do part-time with the full-time student benefits. In addition, it granted privileges like taking tests separately with a longer time allowance in a private area and deadline extensions. Jungkook had only ever made use of the part-time benefit and was determined not to use the others, which wouldn’t make sense anyway because it’s not like he had test anxiety or ADHD or dyslexia or something. He could finish his assignments on time and take tests normally. He wished his dads would understand that. Besides, it was only three weeks into the fall semester.
“It’s fine, I don’t need to do that. I can manage school,” Jungkook replied, the same response he had given Joon over the phone.
“You’re doing great,” Jin agreed, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Have you talked to Hobi or Jimin or anyone recently?” Jungkook asked, changing the subject despite having talked to all of his siblings within the last week.
“Yes, yes. Actually we are planning on visiting Tae next weekend, did you want to come? There’s some pop-up exhibit at the museum he helped organize. We’ll stay the night on Saturday and come back some time on Sunday.”
“Tae won’t mind?”
“No, he wants you to come.”
“Then sure.”
While they online-gamed together with Jimin quite a bit (though the time difference with Korea was a pain) and shared some of their daily life then, Jungkook hadn’t actually seen him in-person for almost two months. Although Tae still lived in the same state, it was a different city and the two-and-a-half hour drive made it just inconvenient enough that trips to visit each other weren’t as common as he’d like.
“Okay, great, I’m going to a book an AirBnB sometime this week. By the way, how’s Yugyeom doing?”
They chatted about the mundanities of their day-to-day lives until Namjoon got home.
---
Come dinnertime, Jungkook was exposed for what he’d done to his arm.
He was helping Jin set the table and when the flesh of his right arm extended from out beneath his sleeve as he put down the dinner plates. His dad’s eyes bulged to almost twice their size as he gazed at the black lines decorating Jungkook's hand and a few more designs that disappeared under his hoodie. Jin’s hand lashed out and latched his wrist and Jungkook had to fight not to flinch at the sudden action.
“Please tell me you drew on yourself with a pen,” Jin groaned.
Jungkook yanked his hand out of Jin’s grasp and held his arm protectively against his chest, hiding his hand back in the black fabric. He’d gotten several tattoos last weekend and they dotted his right forearm and hand. The designs were miscellaneous symbols or references to bands or other media he liked as well as a random flash design from the artist. The idea to get tattoos wasn’t in itself spontaneous – he’d always thought they were cool and had vocalized this many times. Still, he always felt Jin and Joon never really believed he’d actually get any.
Namjoon chose right then to enter the kitchen and only registered Jin’s worried voice and the way Jungkook was holding his arm. “What happened?” Namjoon asked in a tone like he was bracing himself for something terrible. Jungkook wilted further.
“I think our son got some tattoos,” Jin explained stiffly.
“What, where?” Namjoon asked, the fear melting from his gaze but also laser-focused and darting around all his exposed skin.
Jungkook reluctantly took his hand back out from his sleeve to show them. Thankfully Jin didn’t grab his arm again but he still felt increasingly uncomfortable at the silence as they gawked at his skin.
“You could’ve done it somewhere less visible,” Jin huffed dramatically.
“I have more higher up on my arm,” Jungkook admitted sheepishly.
“What? Why? What do they mean?” his dad squawked.
“They don’t mean anything! I just liked them!”
He risked a glance at Namjoon and although his other dad didn’t necessarily seem happy about it, he shrugged and said, “It’s his body, he can do what he wants with it as long as it’s the money he makes from his own job.”
“It is,” Jungkook was quick to assure.
“I guess we can’t stop you,” Jin said warily.
He’d meant to play it casual and cool and act indifferent to their reactions, like they were old boomers who just didn’t get his generation. But Jungkook hated their disappointment so much he thought he would combust if he didn’t justify himself. “I just wanted to hide my…you know…but it would only bring more attention to it if I only got tattoos on that part. So I’m just going to do a whole sleeve and tattoos are cool anyways and everyone my age and Jimin has some too, he just didn’t ever tell you–
“Jungkook, Jungkook, pumpkin, it’s okay. We’re not mad. You can make your own decisions and I believe you that you know what’s best for you,” Namjoon placated.
Both his dads’ expressions had morphed into something softer and concerned and Jungkook’s heart was hammering anxiously and this was the exact scenario he had been hoping to avoid. He sniffled a few times. His eyes stung.
“I’m sorry Jungkook, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about them,” Jin apologized. “It’s just not a thing I grew up with but I know all the young people these days have them. Like Namjoon said, it’s your body. Let’s have dinner now, alright?”
“Okay,” Jungkook said with a watery voice. Jin squeezed his shoulder before walking past him to fetch the salad.
---
Dad doesn’t like my tattoos,” Jungkook moped over Discord.
“Of course he doesn’t,” Yoongi replied without hesitation.
“Hey!”
“What, did you want me to lie?” Yoongi said bluntly. “You knew they wouldn’t like them. As open-minded as they think they are, they’re still a bit old-fashioned about these sorts of things.”
They lapsed into silence as Yoongi click-clacked away on his music file while Jungkook mulled over his brother’s words. He appreciated that Yoongi was content to sit in silence and do his own thing while Jungkook gathered his thoughts.
It was true. Even if his dads never said it out loud he could tell they didn’t like his fashion sense, that they thought his hair was too long and his ears had too many piercings. Joon was usually better about it than Jin but Jungkook knew him well enough to read the disproval in his micro-expressions. He wanted to get an eyebrow or lip piercing soon too and he doubted their reaction for that would be any better.
Their approval, or lack thereof, had been one of the main hinderances in getting his tattoos. In the end, his excitement had outweighed the anxiety. Sure, he had some trauma with needles but he’d done exposure therapy for some of his other triggers throughout the years and he figured getting a tattoo, or well, tattoos, would be similar. And he hadn’t freaked out or anything, he’d been nervous at first but probably no more than a normal amount for someone getting their first tattoos. In fact, it had been a good experience. Great even. He’d gone to a female-owned studio and his artist was a young woman not much older than him who’d been super friendly and communicative throughout the entire process. The tattoo artist, Roxy, had warned him in their email consultations that tattooing over scars could be more painful since the needle had to pierce deeper in order to lay the ink but he wasn’t scared of a little pain.
She had done plenty of scar cover-up work before, especially for self-harm ones which was one of his main reasons for choosing her. Her portfolio was just her Instagram page and Jungkook had spent days ogling at before and after images. If there was heavy blackwork in a piece a lot of times it was hard to tell her clients even had scars in the first place. When he went in for his session, despite his fear of needles, the stinging of the tattoo gun had almost been therapeutic, like one of his old techniques to place an ice cube on his skin when he felt the urge to self-harm.
It would be the first tattoo session of many and he already had his next appointment scheduled in five weeks’ time. As much as he liked tattoos and his tattoo artist, he was also fueled by a near-hysterical desperation to hide his scars. Over the years they ended up ticking nearly all the way from his armpits to the middle of his inner forearms on both arms. He hated seeing them and hated it even more when others saw them. At least his therapist, Brian, was on-board with the idea of tattoo-coverups. “I’ve had a few patients who have gotten them. It can be a great way to feel like you’re reclaiming your own body and taking control over your situation.”
Of course, Jungkook had already shown them off to his brothers, sending them the close up photos his artist had taken of them. Taehyung and Jimin thought they were cool and Jimin already had a few pieces of his own. ‘Nevermind’ written in chunky letters on his ribcage and the number 13 on his wrist and he wanted to get more in the near-future on his back. Jungkook felt guilty about outing Jimin’s tattoos to his dads and made a mental note to apologize to his brother. When he showed Hobi, his brother’s lips had puckered briefly at the sight, but amended it by saying, “If you’re happy, I’m happy. They do suit you.” Yoongi hadn’t really had a reaction either way. “Cool,” was all he had said. A man of few words.
One of the greatest mysteries for Jungkook was that he didn’t know how Yoongi remained so unbothered by his own scars.
“How do you do it?” Jungkook asked.
Yoongi blinked out of the trance-like state he got into anytime he worked on his music. “Huh? Do what?”
“Walk around with your scars showing?”
There was a pause on the line and Yoongi went so still Jungkook thought his computer might have frozen.
“Is that what this is all about Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, coming back to life.
He really didn’t know how his brother did it – he never cared what anyone thought about him whether it was their parents or strangers. His oldest brother had pursued music all on his own even though their dads had wanted him to go to college. But Yoongi was brave. Braver than him. Always marching to the beat of his own drum.
“You don’t care if anyone sees them.”
“Who says I let anyone see them?” Yoongi countered.
“Because! I’ve seen you go out in public with them. You always wore short sleeves around the house in summer.”
“It’s different when I’m with or around family and friends,” Yoongi said.
“So you hide them in New York?” Jungkook’s voice trembled slightly on the last syllable. He’d always viewed Yoongi as a beacon of confidence, someone who rarely compromised and always held his ground – stubborn to a fault.
“Let’s just say people are less put off by me, especially in professional settings, when I have them covered,” his brother said.
“Oh.”
“It sucks but people have their own perceptions of it, Kook. I know it’s hard but the stigma around them is slowly fading. And if getting tattoos over them is what makes you happy you should do that regardless of even what our dads think.”
It was a generic non-answer that left him right where he started. Hide his scars not because he was ashamed of them but because other people would be uncomfortable? But at the same time don’t care what they think? He didn’t want to point out the contradictions in Yoongi’s statement, his brother was just trying to be honest and helpful. Yoongi, probably by virtue of having been moved out of the house for the majority of Jungkook’s turbulent teens, was often the only one in his family who was real with him and didn’t treat him like some fragile piece of glass. So Jungkook thanked him and ended the call, deciding to hunt around the apartment for Snowpea and get ready for his hip-hop class.