It’s a normal family breakfast on a Saturday of 1981, when Jungkook receives a raunchy letter from the boy he is having a scandalous lover affair with.
Nothing too much but minors dni
They were seated around the dining table when Jihyo strode into the room, clutching all the mail to her thorax.
She extracted a long white envelope from the pile and handed it over to her quiet cousin.
A questioning puzzle came over Jungkook's face. Who could possibly know that he was staying the weekend with his extended family?
Then he saw the handwriting, and had to smile at the ingenuity.
That sneaky rascal.
He hoped his father, seated at the far end of the table, hadn't noticed, and was relieved to see that he remained engrossed in his newspaper.
Jungkook tries to wedge his thumb into the corner of the envelope while keeping a wary eye on his father, when suddenly he glanced across at him and smiles.
He promptly returns the smile, drops the envelope in his lap, picks his fork and jabs it into his lukewarm sausage.
He made no mistake to retrieve the letter until his father had disappeared back behind his paper.
Once he turned to the business section, Jungkook placed the envelope on his right, picked up the butter knife and slid it into the thumbed corner.
Slowly, he started to slit open the envelope. Having done that, he quietly placed the letter back on his lap and knife to its original place.
Before anything further, he gave a once over across in the direction of his father, to check if he was still behind his newspaper. He was.
He held down the envelope with his left hand, while carefully extracting the letter with his right.
He looked down at the familiar Moorim ivory paper, the one from that journal that witnesses colossal poetic waxes, folded in three.
One more casual glance at father; as he remained out of sight, Jungkook unfolded the two-page letter.
No date, no address, as always, written like a balladry.
“𝘔𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳.”
The first night in Jongno, followed by the first night they slept together.
2 firsts on the same night, last month Jungkook was shyly embarked on a journey that must only climb uphill.
“𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, /𝘰𝘶𝘳/ 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭.”
Jungkook bit his lip into a smile. For a man who made his fortune with words, that must have been quite difficult of an admittance.
“𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 were everything a man could 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳. 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢n 𝘦𝘹𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦.”
That immediately caught Tzuyu’s attention but it’s only momentary as he pretends to cough and sips on his water.
His cheeks feel a little warm.
“𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯’𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘶𝘬𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘬, & 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.”
“𝘐 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦.”
Jungkook glanced across the table to see that his father had reached the back page of his paper
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘦𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘶𝘯— 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 11 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 /𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭/𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯.”
“𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦.”
Dimples pitted into the swell of his cheeks as Jungkook pressed his lips together and then rolled them in.
He brought his thighs together and held the letter tighter.
“𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥.”
Eyes wide, Jungkook takes a
moment to look someplace else, for any longer he might have doubled up in flames.
“𝘏𝘦'𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦-𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦,
𝘯𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘻𝘪𝘱 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘺-𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬— 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 /𝘣𝘰𝘺/.”
“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘳𝘰—
𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘻𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺.”
Jungkook looked up again and wondered if he was blushing.
If this fool had really enjoyed his outfit that much, he would have to go on another shopping trip in Joho as soon as he got back to town.
“𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦; 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦n.
𝘖𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘺, 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘚𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵.”
Jungkook’s eyes shut.
He breathes through his nose and almost forgets he still has food pouched away in his mouth.
He takes a moment off, just pretending to be interested in whatever vestigial conversation Jihyo starts distantly.
“𝘔𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯
𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴.”
Jungkook crosses his leg one over the other. He gulps.
“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦-𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘒𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘫𝘢𝘦; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺.
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦-𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.
𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬’𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 - 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦.”
Jungkook giggled and quickly placed the letter under his thigh as his father peered round the top of his newspaper.
"What made you laugh, son?”
“The picture of Popeye wearing handcuffs for a watch” he blurted immediately. His father looks confused. “On the front of your paper.”
“Ah, yes,” said father, glancing at the front page without sparing a smile and turning next to the sports section.
Jungkook retrieved the letter.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.
𝘐𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 who’d 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘺 when 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥-𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes but pouts nonetheless. As if he didn’t already have a list of reasons why he didn’t want to be here.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘈𝘮 𝘐 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳?”
Jungkook nodded to the paper. He rounds an eye across the table and sees his two uncles having a heated discussion while his father bats no eye away from his paper.
“𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦
𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.”
Jungkook fussed in his chair, pretends to put another forkful in his mouth but swallowing appeared particularly dicey at the moment.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶?” Jungkook places his cool hand on his burning ear and cheek.
“𝘚𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘯.”
He pats the dampness over his forehead.
“𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦? 𝘐 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦—
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘪𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 /𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯/.
This time Jungkook bursts out laughing, but only rescued by his uncle rising noisily,
“Anyone care for a TT duals game early noon? Weather’s fair so why not seep out the best of it.”
The table buzzes with affirmations, so Jungkook nods as well, slides the letter under the table simultaneously.
“How about you, Kul?”
Jungkook watched as his father folded up the paper and shook his head.
/Oh my God,/ Jungkook thinks in a huge exclamation. /He is wearing a tweed jacket and a green bow tie/
“I would’ve loved to,” said Robert, “but I'm afraid I have some work to finish.” He gestures non-apologetically.
"On a Saturday morning?” Said aunt Su, standing at the laden sideboard, filling her plate for a third time.
“Afraid so” replied his father. “And unfortunately I might need Jungkook’s assistance for it before we sit for our Bible read in time. So he too might not..”
He rose from the table, a loud screech of the chair, and glanced towards his son,
“I'll be in my bedroom. Please get me the blue folders and the phonebook later.”
Jungkook nodded and waited for him to leave the room.
Before returning to his letter he noticed that his father left his glasses on the table. He’d take them through to him once he’s done.
His cousins and uncles begin to vacate the room in preps of the game he wouldn’t be joining.
After a long exhale, he places the letter on the table in front of him and straightens the page to only now notice the doodles on the corners of it.
“𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘭. 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘴,
𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢.”
Jungkook gasps freely for the first time since he started reading.
His knee bounces excitedly as he wiggles in his seat a little.
“𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘵. 𝘐 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.”
“𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥, 𝘰𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢; 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘺𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴,
𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳.”
Jungkook exhales nasally and gulps down the pathetic little whine that lurches up his throat.
“𝘈𝘯𝘥, 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨,
𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭.”
His cheeks are aflame, Jungkook fans them with the free hand and places his foot over the other just to calm the jitters.
“𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 /𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺/ 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺”
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺
Jungkook drops his head and squeals, pink and heated; wondering how would he be stealing his father’s robe again.
He was about to turn back to the front page and read the letter again when he noticed the P.S.
“𝘗.𝘚. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 /𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺/ 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.”
With a scandalized gasp, Jungkook jolts.
He looks up to see that his father’s glasses were no longer on the table.
“What scoundrel could write such a scurrilous letter to a woman?” demanded his father, adjusting his glasses.
Jungkook flinched and turned, horrified to see his father standing behind her and staring down at the letter, beads of sweat appearing on his freshly alummed upperlip.
“Don't ask me,” he shrugged coolly, as he casually folded the letter, and slid it into the envelope— address side downwards.
“I know she is a grown woman now, but today I would keep Jihyo in my prayers lest she does something to upset our religion.”
He smiles when his father pats his head proudly before walking away.
“𝘗.𝘗.𝘚— 𝘔𝘺 𝘷𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.”
Be my darlings and overlook all the typos