The evenings were getting colder by the day, the sun bidding them goodbye earlier than expected. Jungkook wraps his scarf tighter around his neck as the crisp autumn air slowly seeps into his body, making him shiver. Jimin offers him a hand warmer and he murmurs a thanks.

They’re currently waiting for the train to take them home, or rather, Jimin’s home. The platform is surprisingly empty, save for them and two middle-aged ladies holding grocery bags, gossiping animatedly about some big-shot actress caught in a cheating scandal. Jungkook pays them no mind, but Jimin next to him looks weirdly interested in their conversation, tilting his head slightly to the right to hear them better and it serves Jungkook as good entertainment till the train arrives. He sighs contently as they take the seats near the door, the heat inside the train warming up his bones instantly.

“It’s a 50-minute ride,” Jimin informs him through a long yawn. “I’m gonna sleep for a while. Try not to cause any trouble.”

Jungkook gives him a side eye but Jimin is fast asleep, his head resting against the cold fogged window behind them. Jungkook unfurls the scarf around his neck and tucks it behind Jimin’s head, careful not to wake him up. 

The train moves languidly past residential areas and only picks up speed once they leave the city. He watches the moving scenery outside in a trance, trees, and farmhouses swiftly passing by like a blurry memory. He can hear the two old ladies still chatting, though he’s not sure where they’re seated, but they’re loud enough to be heard amidst the constant rumbling of the train. They go through a dark tunnel with a whopping screech that hurts his ears and he’s suddenly met with his reflection, poker-faced and stoic, staring blankly at him with silent judgment. He looks away, his hands running cold. He shoves them in his pockets and closes his eyes, willing the image to leave his mind.

He’s been feeling antsy since he got invited by the Park siblings. He was ready to refuse from the get-go, the rejection sitting on the tip of his tongue, but the small pleading pout on Chaeyoung’s face was enough for him to change his mind. So here he is now, prisoner to his thoughts once again, ruminating on whether or not this was a good idea. It took him a while to acknowledge his feelings, and even longer to come to terms with them and accept their depth, but jumping straight into meeting her parents without putting a name on what he and Chaeyoung have is nerve-wracking. Everything’s out of order and he has no one to blame but himself.

There’s not a single speck of doubt that he loves Chaeyoung, that’s the only certainty he knows of; It’s the idea of a relationship that’s weighing down on his heart, which is ironic considering they already act like a couple. Taehyung constantly teases him about it, Jimin treats them like they’re together already, and Lisa.. he hasn’t talked to her since she called him out on his behavior. Her words still echo in his head like a resounding siren: Always blaring, always drawing attention to itself. 

He tried to envision it, to set aside his fears and open his heart to change, see if he could get himself out of the shackles of his past self and freely surrender himself. To have her presence illuminate every corner of his apartment, to caress her hair as he whispers her name softly in the middle of the night, to take in her hand and give her the rest of his life like it’s nothing—He wanted it all, and it was all so easy to imagine. But the moment he set his mind back to reality, unwanted memories started dredging their way up to the forefront, and all he could think of was the exhaustion that came with loving someone for so long. His parents were living proof.

He remembers the flickers of disappointment on his father’s face every time he came home late from work as if he’d rather be anywhere else but there. He remembers the hollow emptiness in his mother’s eyes whenever she welcomed him back, heating the leftovers and watching the plate rotate inside the microwave with rapt attention just to avoid talking to him. That’s all he’s ever known and he’s scared that it will happen again. 

To him, love was like a stretched rubber band, waiting to be snapped at any time. As long as he doesn’t start anything, as long as he leaves the band unstretched, everything will be fine.

The train comes to a screeching halt at the same time Jimin’s phone alarm goes off. He turns it off instantly, eyes still closed, as if he’s done this a hundred times, which, Jungkook thinks, must be the case.

“This is our stop.” Jimin croaks, rubbing the sleep off his face. “Let’s go.”

The walk to the house doesn’t take more than 5 minutes. It’s a quiet neighborhood located on a steep hill that leaves him breathless once they reach the top, where the Park’s residency sits high, overlooking the busy streets of Seoul down below. Jungkook takes his time gawking at it as he catches his breath. It’s not as big as he thought, considering five people live in it, but when Jimin opens the green metal gate, his eyes brighten. There’s a beautiful small garden leading to the main entrance with a gorgeous stretch of greenery that leaves him in awe, b with colorful roses and plants that Jungkook can’t name, but going off the strong waft of ginger mixed with thyme that swarms his nose, he can take a guess.

“What are you still doing there? Get in.” Jimin’s already inside, waiting for him and his nerves are back at full force. He takes a deep calming breath, counts to three in his head, and steps in.

If he thought the house was small from the outside, the inside is an even tighter fit, not in a bad way though. Jungkook has gotten used to living in a big apartment all on his own so this kind of space is reminiscent of his childhood, before everything turned sour. 

He takes off his shoes and carefully puts them to the side. He follows Jimin through a narrow hall covered on both sides with framed pictures. He slows his pace, inspecting each one. Most of them are crayon drawings that are vaguely recognizable-no doubt made by the Park siblings when they were kids, with their unreadable scrawny signatures at the bottom of the paper, and right next to that is a tiny drawing of a smiley face and the words ‘Good job!’ right below it, written in a much more discernible handwriting. 

He pauses again when he spots a bigger picture hanging in the middle of the hall, far greater than the surrounding paintings. He takes a step closer, promptly enthralled. It’s a large field of flowers drawn with charcoal, devoid of color but shimmering with life. No inch of the paper is left unused, no was purposeless or accidental. Every defining line was made with a clear vision of what the result would be and Jungkook can feel that. His eyes find a signature on the lower edge of the paper but it’s too small for him to make out the name. It does however have the same handwriting as the ‘Good jobs’ he saw on all the other drawings and that gives him a clearer idea of who the artist might be.

“Where the hell are you?” Jimin materializes next to him like a sick magic trick with an exasperated look on his face “I told you to get in.”

Jungkook just nods and follows him into what seems to be the living room and it instantly reminds him of his childhood home. There are two sets of burgundy couches perpendicular to each other, and a fluffy creamy-white carpet stretched between them. Right in the middle is an antique wooden coffee table, its extravagant beauty completely hidden by the messy pile of papers scattered on top of it, and right by the wall sits the oldest TV Jungkook has ever seen in his life. With a protruding screen, a giant body that probably weighs more than a microwave, and two long antennas sticking up like ears, the TV sticks out considerably, not in a bad way though. It gives a homey vintage look to the room and he wonders if that was the intention behind it or if it holds a sentimental value to the Parks. On the other side is the dinner table, all laid out with plates, bowls, and chopsticks. But just as he approaches the table, Jimin drags him into the kitchen, where he’s greeted with a surprised squeal.

“Lover boy! Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming!” Jennie jumps excitedly with a smile, her hands busy folding dumplings into the steamer. “Oh, Chaeyoung would freak out when she sees you here!”

“She’s the one who invited me.”

Jennie’s cheery face quickly drops. “She did? But she didn’t tell me. Why would she not tell me??”

“Why would she anyway?” Jimin interjects, scooting closer to help her with the dumplings. 

“Because we’re best friends. Best friends tell each other everything! I know you don’t have one Jimin but that’s still common knowledge.”

“Tae literally exists.”

“He’s like, everyone’s bestie. He doesn’t count.”

Jimin sighs “You youngsters are tiring to talk to.”

“We’re the same age. ”Jennie remarks.

“I’ve aged twenty years just from this conversation.” Jiming retorts, laughing when Jennie gapes at him in offense.

Jungkook stands awkwardly by the door, watching the two bicker leisurely. He looks around the kitchen with mild interest, unsure whether to step in and offer to help or go back to the living room. Before he could make a decision, someone lightly bumps into him from the back, startling him.

“Yah Jimin-ah! What are you doing by the door? You almost knocked me down.” a feminine but gruff voice scolds him, punching him in the arm. He takes a nervous gulp, looking down at who can only be Mrs. Park. She’s a short stout woman, with distinct sharp eyes and luscious auburn hair that reaches her shoulders. 

“I’m over here Mom,” says Jimin with a barely suppressed smile, and it takes her a good ten seconds to figure out that the man next to her is not, in fact, her son.

“Oh.” she looks over Jungkook’s face again, squinting hard. “Taehyungie?” she asks, visibly confused. Jungkook has no idea how to proceed. He throws a quick S.O.S. glance at Jimin and Jennie, but the two are too busy snickering at his discomfort to save him. He makes a quick mental note to place Jimin’s uniform on the highest shelf he can find in the bookshop and hide the ladder from him.

Taking mercy on him, Jennie drapes her arm over Mrs. Park's shoulders, smiling widely. “Auntie, this is Jungkook, Chaengie‘s crush! We talked about him before, remember?”

Heat creeps up to his neck from embarrassment so he takes off his scarf in a desperate need to cool off.

“Jungkook, this is your future mother-in-law,” Jennie adds cheekily. 

The heat travels up to his cheeks in one go. Why is he friends with these people again?

Mrs. Park just stares blankly at him, until Jimin comes in and hands her a pair of glasses. She puts them on languidly and gasps when their eyes meet. “Oh my,” she faintly says, taking a small step back to look him up and down, making him feel deeply self-conscious. “You’re a very handsome boy!” she exclaims earnestly, giving him a firm nod of approval with a bright smile that’s reminiscent of Chaeyoung’s. He can see now where his girl got her honest, bubbly energy from.

He smiles shyly, bowing a little as he properly introduces himself. “Thank you for having me over. I’m Jeon Jungkook, I work part-time at Jimin hyung’s bookshop.”

“My my, you don’t have to be so polite!” She holds his arm gently, taking him away from the kitchen. “Come come, let me get you some tea to warm up. Jimin-ah, put the kettle on, will you?” she says behind her back, dismissing Jimin’s groans of annoyance. 

He sits on the couch and watches her disappear into the kitchen and come back with a tray of hot tea and some cookies that look homemade.

“Thank you.” he bows again. She pours him a cup and he gratefully accepts it. He blows into it before he cautiously takes a sip. It’s too hot for him to taste anything but he tells her it’s delicious regardless. She beams at him and pushes the plate of cookies his way, eagerly waiting for him to take a bite. He obliges, nibbling on one slowly. He’s not a big fan of sugary treats. His mother wasn’t big on them either so he never got them as a kid, but these aren’t overly sweet and soon he finds himself on his third cookie.

“Oh, you’re already here.” 

He turns around to see Jisoo walking down the stairs with an empty basket in her hands. “You’re early,” she says to him then turns to Mrs. Park. “I’ve hung the clothes to dry and put in a second batch in the washer.”

“Thank you, dear.” She pats Jisoo’s arm lovingly. 

“No problem auntie. Need my help with anything else?” 

“AH!” it’s Jennie who screams this, running towards them in a frenzy. “I burned the rice.”

“Again?” Jisoo grumbles at the same time Mrs. Park calmly says “Should’ve seen that coming”

“Glad to know you had low expectations of me. That warms my heart.” Jennie replies dryly.

Jisoo sighs “How did you even do that? The rice cooker has a timer!” a light bulb suddenly clicks “You didn’t turn it off once it was done, did you?” her suspicions are confirmed when Jennie solemnly nods.

“Well, these things happen..” Mrs. Parks says, glances at Jennie then continues “A lot when you’re here sweetie. I’m used to it.”

“Don’t tease me, auntie.” Jennie pouts and glares at Jungkook for laughing.

Jisoo stands up and stretches her back. “I’ll cook the rice this time.” She walks up to Jennie and squishes her cheeks lightly. “Don’t ever cook anything in your life ever again. I’ll take care of that.” Jennie nods obediently. Satisfied with her answer, Jisoo nods back and drops a kiss on Jennie’s cheek before she heads to the kitchen.

Jennie looks over at the ceiling and raises her arms in supplication. “God, why did you make me so inept at everything?!”

“Don’t blame God for your incompetence, that’s on you.” Jimin pokes his head out of the kitchen to scold her. “Now get back here and clean the pot.”

Jennie fakes a sniff and walks with her tail between her legs to the kitchen.

Mrs. Park looks apologetically at Jungkook. “Sorry for all the noise. It always gets rowdy when the kids are around.”

As if on cue, the loudest of them all finally makes his grand entrance. 

“I have arrived!” Taehyung’s booming voice fills the entire house, followed by a sharp thunk. Jungkook flinches from the sound but Mrs. Park seems unfazed, no doubt already immune to Tae’s rambunctious nature. 

He walks into the living room with a bounce to his feet but stops when he spots Jungkook. “Jungkookie you’re here too!” he runs up to him excitedly and drops next to him on the couch, dropping a lazy arm over Jungkook’s shoulders. “I see if you’ve met your future mother-in-law,” Tae says, raising both brows.

“Shut up,” Jungkook whispers. Thankfully, Mrs. Park has left his side so he’s saved from feeling mortified over that comment, again. “You’re not original dude. Jennie made the same joke.”

Taehyung’s arm loosens around him, his eyes softening for a flashing second before they’re gleaming with mischief again. “Great minds think alike. But, more importantly” he grabs Jungkook’s head and turns it to the other side. “Your girl is here.”

And she was. Huddled in her comfy puffer jacket with her rich reddish-brown locks tied up in a ponytail and her beautiful eyes gazing bashfully at him, there she is, within reach, just a few steps away. 

“You came,” she utters as if in disbelief he’s actually here, but of course he is. He could never say no to her.

He opens his mouth to reply but finds himself at a loss of words. Gone are his usual flirtatious remarks and confident smiles. Under the roof of this house, he’s a blundering mess of nerves and This family dinner is going to be interesting, to say the least.

uncoordinated thoughts, and he hasn’t met their dad yet.

-------------------

A.N: Can you believe this is getting updated after years? Me neither