things we never say;
 

“Do you really want me to break your legs? I thought you were smarter than this. I guess I was wrong. You're a darn idiot.”

Jiwoo flicked a finger against Jungkook’s forehead and kicked his shin. Talk about physical abuse. But he should already be used to it. Jiwoo was a hitter.

He learnt that he should jolly well shut up if he didn’t want to make her even angrier.  Thus, he stayed silent throughout her whole ranting which lasted for a good thirty minutes on the way back home. It was so excruciating to listen because Jiwoo's words were harsh and direct but he had to be used to it. That was just Jiwoo she was. 

Then there was just pure silence in the dark, in the cold. Was she starting with the cold shoulder? Jungkook hated whenever she did that.

“Yah, are you angry?” Jungkook finally decided to speak, his voice quivering with a pinch of panic. He turned his head to her and his eyes stopped flickering at the fuming girl. She looked cute, he had to say. Her dishevelled bangs fell effortlessly over her furrowed eyebrows and the slight pout of her lips betrayed the pissed look she portrayed.

“Oh, come on princess,” he nudged her playfully and played with her ponytail. He cracked a laughter at her child-like behaviour.

“Princess?”

“What?” Jiwoo shot him an annoyed look but he knew she was refraining herself from laughing as well.

“I'm sor—”

“Apologize to yourself, not me.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry Jungkook,” he muttered to herself under his breath and flashed Jiwoo a sheepish gummy smile.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder, a soft chuckle escaped from the edges of her lips.

You owe me ice cream. The expensive ones, you hear me? You little .”

☼

Junhong trudged along the streets at night mindlessly with his earpieces plugged in. He blocked out the commotion of the outside world and wrapped himself under the heavy beats of music.

Sometimes, blocking things out of life was propitious. There are times when you just need to ignore and let go.

It was a rarity to witness Junhong without a smile on his face. That boy was always smiling and playing around—joking around like he did not give a . He was a chill guy. But then, all he felt like doing was to crumble into pieces.

He was not Zelo, he was Junhong at that moment.

Images of his mother came into his mind. She was a frail and weak woman, trying to meet ends to survive and support her son. She only had Junhong and he only had his mother. They only had each other left.

Things weren’t easy for the two. Junhong had to take up odd part time jobs to put food on the table. He had no choice but to be the breadwinner for them. His mother worked as a full-time florist, selling flowers in a store down the street. The staff there took care of her well but the pay wasn’t much. Nevertheless, he knew his mother enjoyed spending time there. He felt glad that she was.

She would always bring home and he would of course, put them in a vase. He had pretty much learnt a thing or two about taking care of flowers.

However earlier that day, a middle-aged man appeared at their door step. He pounced on the door, shouting for them to come out. Junhong was so ashamed of having a bastard as his father but he did not have a choice. The bastard demanded them to hand over a wad of cash for his gambling. He wanted to call the police but his mother begged her son not to.

“He’s your father, Junhong.”

“That bastard was no longer my father since the day he stepped out of the house and left us.”

Junhong was most glad that he was out of their lives but the unexpected visits from him really made Junhong’s blood boil. He was scared of him, he was so scared. But he would protect his mother and himself with his life.

“ off, I will give you nothing.”

He witnessed a hand incline and it came in contact with his cheek. He got slapped hard.

By his father.

Swift footsteps approached Jiwoo’s ears and she spun around the moment she heard heavy gasping of breaths. Whoever was running towards her almost collided into her and Jiwoo almost lost her footage. She would be in deep if she fell and dropped the newly arrived books.

“Hey, be careful,” the person spoke, his voice was oddly familiar. She inclined her head and met eyes with the person. “Oh, it’s you. I’m Junhong,” he smiled meekly. Jiwoo wondered why in the world he had introduced himself because she had no time to spare with his nonsense.

“Sorry, let me help you,” he offered a hand but she rejected it. Jiwoo stood up, brushed the dust off her jeans and checked if the books weren’t damaged.

He reeked of cigarettes.

“Why are you here? It’s getting late, shouldn’t you be at home?”

Ignored.

“Oh come on. Don’t go pissy at me just because I offered your little boyfriend a stick.”

Jiwoo turned and glared at him, her blood was staring to boil.

“ off, punk,” she spat loudly at his face but he did not relent. Her patience was wavering.

“What time does yo