Jungkook’s mother had crossed over. He was sure of it.

Still, there was enough left of her touch to leave residue from her Energy in the house. Her disappointment pierced his chest as the Energy surged. Gritting his teeth, Jungkook rubbed at his temples with vigor. His head felt ready to explode. How could he have let such a thing happen to his mother’s sweet little Yoona?

Whenever he had mistreated Yoona, his mother always said, “Jungkook, I don’t like it when you’re like this,” and, “ be good to her. You know as well as I do that she’s a sweet girl.”

Or his least favourite: “You were born to protect people, not hurt them.”

Upstairs, stationed stiff in front of his dresser, Jungkook nearly lost his damn mind. He barely noticed white knuckles and quivering fingers as he wrapped them around the brass knobs. Yanking hard, he barely flinched when the entire drawer slid out of the slot and clattered noisily onto the floor, its previously folded clothes now a disarray on the carpet.

He had one job. Yugyeom had entrusted him with the task of taking care of Yoona, and he had clearly meant making sure she didn’t get run over by a passing car or burn her eyebrows off in an unfortunate oven incident. Instead, Jungkook had dragged her to a ghost infested church and stood by while she got tossed around like a rag doll.

He had failed miserably. Yoona was downstairs, covered in a smattering of bruises and dried blood. It was all his fault. How was he to explain this to Yugyeom? Even worse, what was he going to tell their father?

When Jungkook’s mother had passed and his father had begun working late into the night, Daejung had immediately scooped him under his wing without hesitation, taking the boy under his wing as if Jungkook were one of his own children.

Daejung would practically manhandle him into sitting down for dinner. Family dinner. He would lay out a plate and say one word: “Eat.”

The family had refused to let Jungkook crumble in misery and self-pity.

And to repay Daejung’s kindness, he had allowed his daughter to get hurt.

“Jungkook?”

Startled, he twisted around and blinked when the light flooded his room. Hadn’t he switched them on earlier?

Yoona stood at the doorway, a finger on the light switch and a befuddled expression on her face as she surveyed the mess of clothes on the floor. Raising a brow at the discarded drawer, she moved down the clean towel pressed against the side of her face. She spoke as softly as a wind chime, yet it did well to break the silence of his despair: “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Guilt bubbled to life inside him as Jungkook vigorously nodded his head. “Of course! God, I’m so sorry.” He dropped to his knees, head bowed before his shame, and picked through the clothes until he found a plain sweatpants.

He held it out for Yoona, whose gaze remained on the ground as she gingerly plucked it from his grasp.

“What’s wrong?”

Breathing in deeply, Yoona brought the towel up to her face again. “I don’t... I don’t think I can bend over.”

“Oh... right.” Jungkook’s knees buckled as he struggled to stand up as smoothly as he could. He walked forward slowly and took the pants from her, thinning his lips as he went down to his knees again, this time his head bowing down before the cause of his shame.

“Hold my shoulders and stick your legs in.” He held the pants out, eyes glued to the ground.

Yoona held firmly onto his shoulders and slowly navigated her legs, one by one, through the soft material of the sweatpants. He brought the waistband up slowly, stretching either side as not to touch her bruises, and adjusted the string before rolling down the hem. Then he leaned sideways to pluck the nearest hoodie from the ground and held it up for her.

He stood, watching silently as Yoona brought the hoodie over her slim frame, wincing at every movement, until she zipped it up to her neck and tossed the hood over her head.

Neither of them knew what to do about her face. The bruising was bad, yes, but they would soon disappear with no trace. It was the slash that worried him the most. It was long, traversing from the hairline, down across her eyelid and stopped halfway down her cheek.

God, if her eye had been open...

The surface scratches worried him the least. Yoona would heal without the need for stitches, hopefully as quickly as her system would allow. The ghost must not have had enough power to wield the pair of scissors with much force.

He blinked back to reality when a blood splattered towel was brought up in front of his face.

At his confusion, Yoona wiggled the towel. “Your nose is bleeding,” she explained.

“Yeah, it’s probably going to do that for a while,” he said, taking the towel. Only when he pressed the towel gently against his nostrils was when he took note of the hammering of drums behind his eyes. It didn’t matter though, his first priority was Yoona, she was more important. “I used a super advanced incantation, by the way. Never did it before.” His lips stretched into a brittle smile in an attempt to make her feel a little relaxed.

Yoona blinked at the information, hands pressing down against the front of the hoodie to flatten the crease lines. “Well good job, because it worked today.”

Jungkook bobbed his head up and down slowly, eyes closing at the throbs of pain inside his head. “I know what you’re thinking about,” he muttered. “And the answer is yes, I could probably do it again if the reason calls for it.”

If she was surprised, she did well not to show it. Instead, she frowned, and he had to stop himself from pressing and smoothening the small dent between her brows. Twiddling her thumbs, she sighed. “I’d like to stay here with you, please.”

Silence hung between them like an ill timed lull. Breaking free of his initial shock, Jungkook wrenched his eyes open and brought the towel down. “Stay here? With me?”

“I’ll pay you. I’ll give you whatever you want. Please, I just got here.” Her voice broke and she cleared . “I’m supposed to be here to get better. What if my dad sees me and sends me back?”

Suddenly feeling as though the headache would be more welcome than understanding this, Jungkook scrunched his brows in confusion. “What are you talking about? Trust me, your dad wouldn’t send you back. Both him and Yugyeom wanted you here.”

“Not if he sees me like this.” Yoona raised her head to lock gazes with him, eyes alight with the fire he had seen just before she had entered the broom closet. “How am I supposed to explain this? I know he won’t believe me because my mother probably unloaded her side of the story.”

“Yoona,” Jungkook begin gently. “You don’t have to stay here.” With an unimaginable amount of courage, he reached forward to take her hand, but immediately withdrew both his shot ego and limb when her hand jerked back out of his reach.

“No, you don’t understand. He’s done it before.” Groaning, Yoona tilted her head back to sigh at the heavens. “You know what, forget it. Might as well get this over with.” She didn’t give so much as a warning before she twisted on her heels and marched right out the door and into the hallway.

“What? Wait, you’re going home now?” Jungkook called out, but cursed and hurried after her when he was given no response.

What was she thinking? He understood what she meant, but what could anyone possibly say that could convince Daejung to let Yoona stay with him? Did she not realise how ridiculous that would be? And dear God, what if Yugyeom found out? Daejung would break the damn door down and take Yoona home, but not before permanently crippling Jungkook.

When they passed her threshold, Yoona paused to take her shoes off, Jungkook quickly following suit. She then turned to face him, eyes piercing a nail through his chest. “They usually leave me alone if I don’t say anything,” she whispered as she adjusted the hood.

Daej