Warning: minor character death

         For most of the whole ride, Jongin’s in a state of slumber. He doesn’t see the best part of driving back up to his hometown; the scenery that the clear land offers. Hazily, when he’s pretty close to his old house, Jongin sits up.

“Mr. Kim, do I turn left here?” The driver asks, and Jongin groans, nodding his head once.

He realises that the driver might have not seen him nodding, so he contemplates whether to voice his answer out loud or just let the driver roll past the street that goes to his house. He doesn’t have to worry anymore, though, when the car skids and makes a turn to the left. Jongin grabs his duffel bag by his side and takes out his wallet.

“Oh, no, Sir, you already paid for the ride. You used a card, remember?” The driver looks at him, still fiddling around with his wallet, and blinks a couple of times. “Mr. Kim.”

“I know,” Jongin forces out of his throat, voice breaking a few times as he tries to clear it. “I already paid, but, uh…”

The driver stops the car, the rumble of the engine slowly fading out as the driver leans back while his head is turned towards Jongin. The latter counts the amount of bills he has and hands the driver a huge sum. As a tip. Jongin doesn’t usually give drivers tips because drivers don’t need them. They earn quite a lot for just driving people around on the daily but since his driver basically drove him out of town only to turn back after that, Jongin knows it wouldn’t be appropriate to leave him empty-handed.

Jongin steps out of the car, careful in his motions so he wouldn’t fall over on his face. He’s still a little hazy from his recent slumber. He goes round the car and gives the driver a bow as the latter pulls the car out of the street and into the main road. Jongin turns and he pushes through the gate of his house, stepping into his small front yard.

“Mom?” Jongin calls out.

There’s some shuffling coming from inside the house, add to that incredibly loud, and Jongin wonders if it’s just his mother or there’s more of his relatives in there. As Jongin shifts again into a relaxed stance, the door swings open, the hinges creaking in protest at the action. He darts his eyes up, coming face-to-face with Auntie Lee.

“Oh, Jongin, just in time. We were about to head out to the hospital.” Auntie Lee cups his face and looks up at him as she adorns a soft, elegant smile on her lips.

She stares up at Jongin, almost like she’s soaking him in; every little detail to his skin, his eyes, his nose, his lips. Jongin does the same to her. He silently points out to himself the barely visible wrinkles by the side of her eyes, on her forehead — she eerily looks a lot like his father — and the way her eyes sparkle a little. That’s when he realises that she’s just finished a crying session. Either that, or she’s about to cry while looking at him.

“What’s wrong?” Jongin’s starting to get a little antsy. He’s never been this close to any of his relatives before. Well, except for his mother, but that’s different.

“You look a lot like your father.” Auntie Lee’s lipped smile tightens into a soft grin, eyes disappearing behind a set of healthy teeth.

“Oh… um… that’s nice.”

Jongin pretends to fiddle around with his duffel bag, releasing himself from his aunt’s hold. He takes the chance to stalk into the house and head to his old bedroom to drop his bag. He passes his mother in the living room, and she gives him a tentative smile as she notices his tall physique.

“How’s Dad?” Jongin asks in a soft voice, though, it’s still loud enough for his mother to hear. “Must have been serious if Auntie Lee is here too.”

“He had a… heart attack,” it’s a soft whisper, like she’s scared to make herself think he’d done anything but survive the mentioned heart attack. She’s standing by his door, leaning her head by the side on the wall. “He’s in the hospital now.”

“Well, God blessed him, didn’t he?” Jongin sneers, voice tipping dangerously to the left, where it’s just full of disrespect and rudeness. “Glad he’s still alive.”

“Kim Jongin,” his mother calls his name out as a warning.

“What?” Jongin snickers. “I really am glad. He’s a respectable man.”

“Then what did you mean by that?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Mom.” Jongin grimaces, disappointment clearly scribbled all over his face. “You know I wouldn’t be disappointed if he didn’t make it.”

“Jongin, don’t say that.” His mother slides her feet against the laminated floor into his room, making her way to the bed so she could sit on it and rest. Jongin’s words causes a headache that’s too painful for her to stand upright in peace.

“Mom, he’s made life so hard for you. He keeps on making you choose either him or me. He wants you to choose, Mom.” Jongin pulls a shirt over his head, his torso bare as he ruffles through the contents in his duffel bag for another set of outfit to wear. After being stuck for hours in a car, Jongin feels a little icky and uncomfortable so he’s planning to take a nice, long shower before anything else. “If he doesn’t like me he should’ve said so.”

“He cares about you. He loves you, trust me.” His mother sighs, eyes following the way his son’s walking back and forth across his room to clear out his bag. “Jongin, you have to believe me.”

“Sure.” Jongin purses his lips into a grim line, holding himself back from rolling his eyes. “I already moved out, Mom, you don’t have to do this anymore.”

“I can’t convince you, can I?”

Jongin sends his mother a cheeky grin as he shakes his head. His mother stands up from his bed, huffing to herself as she goes to leave his room. Jongin lets her leave. He doesn’t have anything more to say and she doesn’t need to. So he closes his bedroom door shut behind her and proceeds to take a shower. Surprisingly, coming back home after months of being away doesn’t make Jongin feel nostalgic. But he is glad to be back in such a familiar comfort spot; his bedroom.

The only thing he fears about being back is that he’d possibly bump into his old bullies. It’s not that he can’t defend himself now. He certainly can because Moonkyu really loves dragging him to his Martial Arts lessons, hence, Jongin’s picked up one or two things he could use for self-defence. But it’ll upset him if he sees Daein or anyone of thelike. Jongin steps out of his bathroom and put on his clothes, all the while thinking about what he said to his mother. He’s not wrong. Or at least he doesn’t like to think that he is, especially when it’s something he said to his mother.

He does respect his father. As a man to a man. But as a son to a father, Jongin thinks he could do much better. As a businessman, Jongin thinks his father’s great; stern, convincing, determined. Maybe that’s the reason why he can’t think of his father as a bad person. As far as Jongin knows, he was the only one who was treated like by his father. Everyone else had the proper treatment that they deserved. And on top of that, his father had his random bursts of care, or love, or whatever, and he’d treat Jongin to lunch, or congratulate him on something by buying him expensive gifts. His father has always been a good man, just not a very nice father.

As soon as Jongin’s done putting on clothes and making himself look decent, even though he looks like he’s just survived a 5-storey high fall down a building, he pads out of his bedroom. In all honesty, he expected both his mother and aunt to head on out to the hospital first without him. There’s only one hospital in town, really, and he knows how to get there by himself. Perhaps they didn’t want him running away from seeing his father and wanted to make sure he really didn’t.

“All done?” Auntie Lee chirps. Her cheerful behaviour seems weird. Jongin’s never really known her and has only seen her only once every year for Christmas, but he could still tell that the false optimism in her voice doesn’t suit her at all.

Jongin doesn’t show his discomfort on his face and instead, nods his head, mumbling, “I’m done.”

They make their way to the hospital as soon as Jongin slips his feet into a pair of beat up sneakers Taemin bought him for his birthday last year. It’s a walking distance to the hospital if you know which shortcuts to take, and Jongin certainly knows. He leads the two older women through a set of alleys and across the quietest of roads tucked in the corner of the town.

“Honey, please don’t tell me you’ve never been down here,” his mother grunts out as she holds onto his arm. She clings onto him as they walk, and it feels nice to have his mother depending on him even for something so trivial.

“Almost every week, Mom,” Jongin mutters loud enough for his mother to hear. “You know how I was suffering last time.”

“Aren’t you affected by it at all? You seem like you could care less that you suffered in the past.” Jongin chuckles at his mother’s words. “I’m not joking, Jongin!”

“I know, Mom.” Jongin wraps an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “But you have to know that I don’t show you everything I’m feeling.”

His mother sighs. “Ugh, I’d rather have you desensitised to emotions than to have you suffer alone.”

Jongin places a disgustingly loud and long kiss on the side of his mother’s head, on her temple, and squeezes her figure closer to him. She knows it’s her cue to just drop the matter but she still has her eyes lingering on her son’s side profile. He’s grown so much. She could still remember when he’d climb into her bed at night with one of his stuffed toys in his arms. He’s always been a little extra clingy whenever he’s running a fever. And now… well, now, she doesn’t even know if he still acts like he’s a baby when he’s running a fever. He’s withdrawn from her these past few years, and at first she thought it was just his teenage hormones making him act that way. Turns out, it wasn’t. She knew about it too late.

“I’m so jealous of you two.” Auntie Lee turns to look behind at them. A ghost of a smile dances on her lips, eyes twinkling in jealousy. It’s dull, but it’s still there. “My children aren’t this close to me.”

“Well.” Jongin smiles. “Maybe it’s because it was always Mom and I in the house. I had no one but her.” And Sehun.

“Yeah, and he’s such a baby,” his mother teases him, a carbon copy of Jongin’s grin settling quite nicely on her. “But I hate him sometimes too. He never answers my calls.”

It’s nice to be laughing like this again with his mother. They’ve gotten caught on a wrong foot when Jongin announced he’d move out last year. He didn’t tell his parents anything. They’ve always known that he’d apply to one of the well-known universities in the country, if not in the world, but the thought that he’d move out hadn’t crossed their minds. He hadn’t discussed anything with them. He just told them he was going to move out in a week and that stirred up a small argument between his mother and him. His father seemed indifferent about it, but he’s always shown little care to what Jongin does so it didn’t matter. The last time his mother visited Jongin, they managed to fix their relationship. And it got better from there.

The tall hospital building comes into view right as they a take a turn to the right. Walking up to the entrance, Jongin digs for something in his coat’s pocket. He pulls out the usual combo for when he needs to light a stick. His mother and his aunt turns to him questioningly when he calls for their attention.

“Uh, you ladies go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.” Jongin waves them off when they look like they’re about to ask him what he’s going to do. Auntie Lee dismisses him and walks into the cold embrace the hospital offers, not looking back at his mother because she knows she’ll be there later. Jongin stares at his mother’s frozen stance and quirks an eyebrow up. “What’s wrong?”

He follows the trail her gaze leads to and finds her appalled at the sight of his cigarettes out in the open air. He drops his eyes to the ground as he silently balances a stick in between his lips. Wordlessly, she watches him light it up, watches the familiar swirl of smoke surround her son. It acts like an irregularly shaped dome around him, as if it’s protecting him. But she knows better than anyone that it kills rather than protects. She couldn’t say much to ask him to st