It Absolutely Won’t Be You

Carry On My Wayward Son

2024

February

Jackson woke up with a monstrous migraine.

“Ooh. You’re up.”

…a very loud, very unforgiving omma in his bedroom.

“GOOD MORNING JACKSON!!”

It actually felt as if his eardrum had shattered.

“Word of advice!” Park JinYoung boomed, his usually-silky voice turning Jackson’s brain into jello. “If you’re ever going to get plastered again, do us all a favor and try to keep the Jackson -Show inside your apartment!”

Jackson rolled over and tried to mentally will his bandmate away. When that didn’t magically work, he groaned and opened one eye blearily to see JinYoung standing at his bedside, looking very much like he’d just been waiting to ruin Jackson’s morning. Knowing Junior, he was probably right.

“Good morning to you, too, mom.” Jackson ground out, cotton-mouthed.

“Oh it’s a great morning!” JinYoung sang noisily. “In fact, it’s an even better morning now that your drunk, half- self isn’t all over Dispatch.”

Jackson desperately wished his band had sent in their power vocal instead; Choi YoungJae would’ve been so much more sympathetic and non-judgmental and so much more peaceful. But of course, he got Jin-Mother-knows-best-Young; acrid, sarcastic, no-nonsense JinYoung who everyone could count on to give them what they needed rather than what they wanted.

And JinYoung apparently thought Jackson needed sunlight because he reached up and viciously yanked Jackson’s shades apart, violent streaks of white-hot rays burning his retinas. Jackson cursed JinYoung in three different languages as he covered his blinded eyes like a creature of the night. JinYoung was more amused than anything.

“I’m assuming you’re insulting my mother-”

“And all your future children, Park JinYoung.” Jackson hissed.

“-But, look at it this way,” JinYoung chirped, dropping an alka-seltzer into a glass of water he’d managed to conjure from nowhere. “At least I’m not the other Park JinYoung.”

At the mention of their CEO, Jackson groaned again.

“Ugh.” He opened a bleary eye, wincing at the light. “Did he have to step in last night?”

“No,” JinYoung pressed the fizzing water into Jackson’s hand along with an ibuprofen, “We managed to keep it under wraps.” He paused thoughtfully, “Well, most of it. Mark had to give out some autographs for your neighbors to hold them back from calling the cops.”

Jackson ran a hand down his face, “Oh g-od.”

“Oh, don’t worry kid,” JinYoung told him brightly, “JaeBum spoke to him though, told him we were just having a rowdy night together that got a little out of hand.”

“Did the CEO believe our dear leader?” Jackson asked, taking a swig of the water.

“JaeBum doesn’t think so.” JinYoung replied with a wry smile. “But our whispering CEO didn’t ask too many questions so JaeBum figured he was just trying to be…understanding.”

Jackson could feel his pulse pounding in his head at JinYoung’s prolonged pause, knowing what was coming and wishing he hadn't woken up at all.

“So…” JinYoung reached into his pocket and a familiar envelope skittered onto Jackson’s lap on the bed. “Are you ready to talk about this?”

Jackson stared at the gilded envelope, a little wrinkled and slightly dirtied, but otherwise intact and unopened. He took another swig of his water, wishing it was soju…or whiskey. God, he could go for some whiskey.

“I thought I got rid of that.” He said finally after a moment.

“You almost did.” JinYoung replied, impressed that Jackson hadn’t just torn the damn thing apart on sight. “You got as far as setting a garbage can on fire on the rooftop before Mark came in and tackled you.”

“Well, that’s rude.” Jackson scoffed. JinYoung grabbed the newspaper by his bedside and smacked him on his forehead.

“What was rude,” JinYoung said tersely, “Was you ripping your shirt off and also setting it on fire as you yelled into the sky like King-ing-Kong.”

Jackson snickered because, of course, he’d do something like that. JinYoung didn’t look nearly as amused though.

“Hnh.” Jackson muttered, rubbing the left side of his face where he could feel a tender bump forming under his long hair. “I guess that explains my headache.”

“Actually, that would be thanks to YoungJae.” JinYoung informed him.

“YoungJae?” Jackson actually gathered up enough effort to lift his head, eyebrow arched…or at least Jackson hoped he was arching his eyebrow. “YoungJae couldn’t even hit that wasp he found on his car’s door handle.”

“Well, the wasp on his car’s door handle didn’t tell him to ' off and go cry over your ex-.'” JinYoung said with accompanying finger quotations and Jackson groaned again, slamming his face into his pillow and wishing he could suffocate himself. “But hey, you did.” JinYoung went on enthusiastically, “Hence, you got knocked on your by the kid who still pulls over in traffic to carry animals off the road.”

“Aish.” Jackson breathed and fell forward on his bed, like a sad omelet of disgrace, trying to disappear into his own sheets. He actually whined, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Please tell me I didn’t really do that.”

“I’d love to,” JinYoung chirped. “But you were a bit of an angry last night and we only managed to get you to calm down after YoungJae decked you so…it kind of worked out.”

Jackson rubbed a hand down his face, feeling like crap in every sense of the word.

“How pissed was he?” He had to ask.

“It’s YoungJae.” JinYoung said with a wry smile. “He apologized right after he punched you…then spent five minutes telling your unconscious body that he understood why you said those things, that he forgave you and hoped you’d forgive him when you woke up.”

“Jesus.” Jackson turned to his bedside drawer, looking for his phone. “I gotta call him.”

“…Yeeeah about that…” His faux-mother stretched, “After NamJoon called Mark to complain about your late-night phone calls we figured it would be best to keep your phone away from you.” JinYoung held up his phone and wiggled it for good measure. “And don’t try to change the subject. I’ve got a schedule in a few hours so you only get my tender love and care until I have to leave.”

“Can’t we just pass the time playing video games?” Jackson tried hopefully.

“You know I don’t play video games.” JinYoung threw back, mildly offended.

“Hey, Junior.” Jackson quickly said in awe instead. “Your skin looks really great these days. What’re you using??”

JinYoung picked up a pillow (one that’d he’d actually bought as a housewarming present for Jackson when he’d moved in) and smacked Jackson square in the face with it. In any other situation, it would’ve been a pathetically benign, useless attack. To an idiot with a hangover, it felt much like someone was rearranging his brain cells.

JinYoung clicked his tongue, “What’d I say about changing the topic?”

Jackson rubbed his temples and randomly thought: BamBam. Oh, yes! Kunpimook would’ve been so much nicer to wake up to and his dongsaeng wouldn’t have tried to smack Jackson in the face either. Ah, except the brat was in Thailand and JinYoung was still in his room, looking utterly nonplussed.

Got7’s resident mother sighed and leaned back on the dresser drawer, naturally falling into such a handsome pose that it reminded Jackson of his latest spread on Vogue.

“Jackson, I thought we talked about this.” JinYoung said quietly, nodding at the envelope that seemed to weigh as much as the world on his bed. Jackson couldn’t quite meet his eyes. JinYoung might’ve technically been younger of the two by a couple of months, but his quiet maturity always had a way of humbling Jackson over the years.

Jackson took another sip of his water instead of saying anything.

“I thought you guys were over.” JinYoung plowed on.

Jackson stared outside the window, idly thinking that the day was so pretty now that the storm had passed.

He hated it already.

“I thought you both agreed that things were better now.” JinYoung tried again.

He picked at the dirt under his nails. Maybe he should get a manicure today?

JinYoung twisted his mouth at Jackson’s silence, pulling out his trump card,

“I thought you said that you were just friends.”

At that, Jackson actually raised his eyes almost defiantly at JinYoung and the latter thought, ‘Ah, he's still so predictable.’

“After all this time,” Jackson said soberly for the first time that morning, “I think we can all stop pretending like we were ever just friends.”

And JinYoung thought it was funny, because everyone in his life had just been passengers on Jackson’s prolonged express ride down the river of denial. He didn’t laugh though. It wasn’t that kind of funny after all.

"I know. We-" JinYoung corrected himself, "We’ve always known she was…special to you."
Jackson snorted, but after years together, Junior didn’t take it as a disrespectful affront, understanding that being dismissive and irritating was Jackson’s special way of coping with bad situations.
"But I…we had hoped that, after everything that happened," JinYoung continued, trying to choose his words carefully, "You two would have…gotten over this." He waved abstractly at his friend.
JinYoung meant well, Jackson understood that. But YoungJi was never some…obstacle for him to hurdle over at a track and field competition. And Jackson tended to have the emotional maturity of a wailing baby wombat when he was angry, so he did what he did best whenever he’s annoyed: be an , and grumbled,
"Kinda like how you and BoMi have gotten over each other?"
It was a low and stupid blow meant to hurt and insult, but JinYoung only shot him ‘the look.’

The ‘Really? That’s what you’re going to fall back on?’-look, and Jackson really should’ve known better. See, the whole reason JinYoung was the first one to show up in his apartment was because JinYoung was patient when it came to his kids’ bull and tantrums. Knowing him, Junior probably anticipated that particular attack on his relationship(?) with his (kind of/sort of) (ex-?)girlfriend/lover/whatever. Jackson wasn’t entirely sure what was going on with them anymore…
“BoMi and I…” JinYoung trailed off, scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully, "Have learned to…deal with this lifestyle."
Jackson sneered, "Isn’t that just a convenient way of saying you’ve given up on each other?"
"No." JinYoung said instantly. ‘Never.’ His eyes said silently.
JinYoung looked so insulted at the idea that it made Jackson feel like a heel for even suggesting it.
"It’s just…we. Aish. Look-" He tried, "She and I…we have these plans for our lives, our bands… our care