1

The clock ticked past eleven, the soft hum of the computer breaking the stillness of the dimly lit room. A faint glow spilled from the screen, carving sharp angles across Jungkook’s face as he leaned forward, his shoulders tense.

His fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against the desk, a quiet echo of the turmoil in his chest. His lips moved soundlessly, forming a prayer he didn’t know he believed in. Time seemed to hold its breath as he finally stilled, exhaling a shaky sigh. Closing his eyes, he pressed the refresh button, daring fate to reveal what lay on the other side.

When the screen reloaded, his shoulders slumped. “Ahhh!” Jungkook screamed, throwing his head dramatically onto the desk.

He slapped the tabletop with both palms and groaned loudly. “Why… why… why does it keep happening?” he lamented, his voice muffled as he buried his face under his arms.

However, from the doorway, a soft chuckle broke through his misery. "You didn’t make it again, did you?"

The voice was familiar, laced with amusement but edged with concern. Jungkook peeked out from under his arms and squinted toward the doorway.

Mrs Jeon was standing there, arms crossed over her chest and leaning casually against the frame. Her expression was a mix of sympathy and teasing, her lips curved into a faint grin.

"Mom," Jungkook groaned, dragging the word out in frustration. "Can you please close the door and leave?"



Mrs. Jeon raised an eyebrow, stepping into the room. "You didn’t pass the test, did you?" she asked, her grin widening.

Jungkook groaned again, louder this time, as he pushed himself out of the chair and flopped onto the bed. He grabbed a pillow, covered his face with it, and muttered, "I don’t want to talk about it."

Mrs. Jeon laughed softly, walking over to the bed. She sat down on the edge, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands. "It’s not the end of the world, Jungkook. Just apply for that medical entrance this year. It’s a solid option, and your dad would be thrilled."

Jungkook yanked the pillow away from his face and shot her an exasperated glare. "How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want to be a doctor!"

"Jungkook," Mrs. Jeon began, her voice gentle but firm.

"No, listen to me," Jungkook interrupted, sitting up and crossing his arms. "I want to be a chef. It’s my dream."

Mrs. Jeon blinked, clearly taken aback. A moment later, she burst into laughter. "You? A chef? Oh, Jungkookie, I haven’t even seen you boil water by yourself! Are you serious?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. "I’m not joking. I want to go to London to study at a culinary school."

Mrs. Jeon’s laughter faded, replaced by a look of incredulity. "London? To learn how to cook? Do you have any idea how absurd that sounds? You don’t need to cross the sea for that. Just step into our kitchen. I’ll teach you everything you need to know."

"Mom," Jungkook groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "I’m not talking about making kimchi or stew. I want to learn how to make pasta, cakes, croissants.. all those fancy things you can’t teach me."

Mrs. Jeon shook her head, unimpressed. "And what’s wrong with practical jobs? Why not study something that guarantees you a high-paying career, like medicine or engineering? Something like your dad’s job?"

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he shot her a pointed look.

"When you were younger, Dad wanted you to be a doctor too. Not just any doctor.. an oncologist, like him. But you didn’t do that, did you?"

Mrs. Jeon’s lips pressed together, and she let out a resigned sigh. "And if you tell your dad you want to go to London to become a chef, he’ll lose his mind. He might even kick both of us out of the house!"

"Two doctors in the family are more than enough," Jungkook retorted, crossing his arms. "Why does everyone want me to be something I’m not?"

Mrs. Jeon sighed, rubbing her temples. "Jungkook, how are we supposed to explain this to people? ‘Oh, our son? He’s studying to be a chef in London!’ Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?"

Jungkook pouted, the frustration clear on his face. "If these stupid English and French proficiency tests weren’t mandatory, I’d already be in London by now," he muttered.

Mrs. Jeon’s expression softened, and she reached out to pat his shoulder. "Jungkook, I understand that you have dreams, and I admire your passion. But you’re going about this the hard way. London isn’t going anywhere. If you’re serious about this, start small. Convince your dad gradually. Show him you’re not just daydreaming... you’re serious."

Jungkook’s defiance faltered as he looked at her. "But it’s my dream, Mom," he said quietly, his voice tinged with desperation.

"I know," she replied gently. "And I want you to chase it. But first, prove it to us. Try cooking something here. If you can make one edible dish without burning down the kitchen, I might actually consider supporting this London thing."

Jungkook groaned, flopping back onto the bed and pulling the pillow over his face again. "Fine. But I’m not making kimchi," he grumbled.

Mrs. Jeon laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Deal."

Despite his frustration, a small smile tugged at Jungkook’s lips under the pillow as the room filled with the warmth of their laughter.

“Good, now just sleep. It’s already past 11. Let’s see what we can do about this tomorrow morning,” she said, her tone soft yet firm.

Jungkook nodded at her retreating figure, watching as she closed the door behind her. He sighed heavily, staring at the ceiling for a moment before grabbing his phone from the bedside table. His thumb hovered over the screen before he dialed the number he knew by heart.

The call connected after a single ring. "Gyu!!!," Jungkook whined, his voice muffled with frustration. "I didn’t make it this time either."

On the other end, Mingyu’s familiar voice carried a hint of sympathy. "Oh, Kookie. What should we do now?"

"I don’t know," Jungkook admitted, his voice dropping. "I feel so helpless."

"If only I were studious enough like you," Mingyu teased lightly. "I would’ve aced the test, flown to London, and migrated you over later."

Jungkook pressed his lips into a thin line, his frustration bubbling over.

"Your dad’s not going to accept us anyway," Mingyu continued with a sigh. "That’s why I thought this plan was perfect. But now it feels like you’re my dream that I’ll never be able to reach."

"Gyu," Jungkook protested, his voice tinged with urgency. "Don’t say that. It’s not just your dream; it’s mine too. We, settling down in London, opening a small cafe, living like a family with two or three kids... that’s my dream as well. But this test… it’s standing in the way of everything!"

"Is there a way to apply for the next test soon?" Mingyu asked after a pause.

"Yeah," Jungkook mumbled. "I’ll check the nearest dates tomorrow."

“Mm.. Leave it for now,” Mingyu’s voice turned soft like a gentle balm to Jungkook’s frazzled nerves. “Did my baby eat anything today?”

Jungkook shook his head, even though Mingyu couldn’t see him. “No,” he mumbled, rolling over on his bed, clutching the phone tightly against his ear.

Mingyu sighed audibly. “Is your dad at home or at the hospital?” he asked after a pause.

“At home,” Jungkook replied, his voice dropping to a near whisper. He let out a soft sigh, his legs kicking absently against the mattress.

“So… jumping your fence is risky, huh?” Mingyu teased, his tone light but with a playful edge that brought a faint smile to Jungkook’s lips.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jungkook warned, though his voice carried a hint of amusement.

“I was thinking,” Mingyu continued, undeterred. “I’d grab two burgers, jump your fence, and we’d eat together. Then maybe cuddle, you know?”

Jungkook couldn’t suppress the soft giggle that escaped him. “You’d better not come now,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Dad’s home. And not just him.. Granny’s here too.”

“Ah, that oldie’s there?” Mingyu groaned dramatically. “No way. I’m not coming anywhere near your house, then. Not even within five kilometers!”

Jungkook burst into laughter, his worries momentarily forgotten in the wake of Mingyu’s antics.

But his laughter was abruptly cut short as his phone emitted a sharp beep, signaling another incoming call. His heart stilled, and his eyes widened as he glanced at the screen.

The name flashing on the display made his stomach drop. Dad.

“Oh no,” Jungkook whispered, panic setting in. He immediately ended the call with Mingyu, his fingers trembling slightly.

“What is it?” Mingyu’s voice had just echoed in his mind, but now it was replaced by his father’s looming presence. Jungkook took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before picking up the new call.

“H-Hello?” Jungkook stammered, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Isn’t it time to sleep?” Mr. Jeon’s voice was calm yet carried an unmistakable edge of authority, one that sent a shiver down Jungkook’s spine.

“Y-Yes, Dad,” Jungkook lied hastily, his thoughts spinning. “I was just about to. Then.. Jimin… Jimin called me.”

There was a pause, long enough for Jungkook to regret every decision he’d made that day. “Mm,” his father finally replied, his tone unreadable. “Then come down. Jimin is waiting here.”

Jungkook’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

“And bring your phone with you,” Mr. Jeon added sharply before hanging up, leaving no room for questions or protest.

For a moment, Jungkook sat frozen, the empty screen of his phone staring back at him like an accusation. His mind raced as panic clawed at his chest. What was Jimin doing downstairs? How much did his father overheard?

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, cursing the universe for conspiring against him. He scrambled to open his call logs, his fingers trembling as he cleared every trace of Mingyu’s number. Then he navigated to their messages, his eyes scanning quickly to ensure nothing incriminating remained.

Before deleting the chat history, he typed out a hurried message:

"Phone is with Dad. Don’t text me."

The moment it was sent, Jungkook erased the entire conversation. He stared at his phone for a beat, making sure no evidence lingered, before stuffing it into his pocket.

Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, trying to smooth down the nervous energy buzzing through him. He adjusted his shirt, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, and willed himself to appear calm.

The walk to the stairs felt like a march to his own execution. His legs were heavy, his heart pounding so loud he was certain it echoed through the quiet house. With every step closer to the living room, dread coiled tighter around him.

When Jungkook finally reached the bottom of the staircase, the tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. His steps faltered as he saw them. His father, Mr. Jeon, stood by the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression carved from stone. Beside him, Mrs. Jeon sat with a calm neutrality that betrayed nothing, but her pursed lips hinted at underlying concern.

“Sit,” Mr. Jeon commanded, his voice sharp and unyielding. It was not a suggestion.

Jungkook hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying, lowering himself onto the couch opposite them. The leather felt cold against his palms as he clenched his hands tightly in his lap. His phone weighed heavily in his pocket, a guilty reminder of everything that had led to this moment.

He glanced around, trying to gauge the situation, his confusion evident. “Jimin?” he asked, his voice tentative.

“Jimin is not here,” Mr. Jeon said simply, his tone cutting through Jungkook’s thoughts like a blade. “First, you explain. Your mother mentioned something.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “About?” he asked cautiously, though he suspected he already knew.

“About your choice of career,” his father replied, his piercing gaze never wavering.

Jungkook sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. “Oh.”

Before he could say anything more, Mr. Jeon raised a hand, palm outward. The unspoken demand was clear. With a reluctant pout, Jungkook pulled his phone from his pocket and placed it in his father’s waiting hand.

“Mm. Tell me,” Mr. Jeon said, unlocking the phone and scanning through its contents.

“I couldn’t make it,” Jungkook admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I failed by two points.”

Mr. Jeon’s expression didn’t shift, but the weight of his disapproval was palpable. “Is it just a hobby, or are you truly serious about this choice?” he asked.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook replied firmly, his gaze flickering between his father and his phone, which now seemed to hold his fate.

“Where is the last dialed number?” Mr. Jeon asked abruptly.

“Jimin’s? It should be there,” Jungkook said, leaning forward slightly as if to help.

“It’s not,” his father said, his tone clipped as he scrolled through the call log.

“Did it get deleted accidentally?” Jungkook asked, his voice tinged with nervousness. He turned to his mother for support, but Mrs. Jeon merely rolled her eyes, shaking her head as though to say 'You’re hopeless'.

Mr. Jeon’s gaze bore into him, unrelenting. Jungkook’s mouth went dry under the weight of it.

“Hmm…” Mr. Jeon hummed, finally locking the phone and lowering it to his side. “Since you couldn’t make it, what’s your plan now?”

Jungkook straightened his posture, mustering what confidence he could. “I’ll appear for the next test. I need to apply before this December intake.”

Mr. Jeon nodded slowly, his face betraying no emotion as he stood up from the couch. The sound of his movements was loud in the otherwise silent room.

“Hmm. That will be your last chance, Jungkook. I am not going to permit this ridiculous act again,” he said, his voice final as he tucked Jungkook’s phone into his pocket.

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Wait.. My phone?” he called after his father, standing up from the couch.

Mr. Jeon paused and turned halfway to face him. “Go and sleep. If there’s an emergency, I will attend the call,” he said firmly before resuming his stride toward the bedroom.

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to protest. “But..” he began, only to be cut off by his mother’s laughter.

Mrs. Jeon, who had been the picture of composure until now, erupted into a fit of giggles, her shoulders shaking as she leaned back into the couch. “Oh, Jungkook,” she said between laughs, wiping at her eyes. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Jungkook pouted, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Mom, seriously?”

Mrs. Jeon waved him off, still chuckling. “Go on, do as your father says. And maybe next time, think twice before you try to hide anything from him.”

Jungkook groaned dramatically, dragging his feet as he trudged back up the stairs, his mother’s laughter echoing in his ears. As he reached his room and flopped onto his bed, he muttered under his breath, “Why does this always happen to me?”

Slowly, Jungkook pushed himself up from the bed, his movements sluggish as if weighed down by the disappointment swirling in his chest. His feet padded quietly against the wooden floor as he approached the small table tucked into the corner of his room. His fingers lightly brushed the edge of the scattered study materials... textbooks, notes filled with scribbles, and a half-empty pen lying diagonally across a page.

He paused, staring at the mess with a furrowed brow. The weight of his recent failure pressed heavily on his shoulders.

With a small sigh, he reached out and opened one of the textbooks, flipping through its pages aimlessly. The neatly printed words seemed to blur together, refusing to take shape in his mind. He shut the book with a soft thud, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“What’s the point?” he muttered to himself, his voice low and tinged with resignation.

Turning away from the table, he retreated back to the bed. As he sank into the familiar comfort of his mattress, he let out another deep sigh, dragging the blanket over his legs. Maybe sleep would clear his mind. Maybe it would dull the sting of his father’s words and his own guilt.

Lying on his side, he curled up, his eyes fixed on the faint glow of the moonlight spilling through the curtains. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, as though making a silent promise to himself. “Tomorrow, I’ll try again.”

But even as he closed his eyes, the thought lingered...what if tomorrow wasn’t any better?



(Jungkook's home)

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, filling the room with a soft golden glow. Jungkook stirred, stretching his arms lazily above his head before sitting up in bed. He yawned deeply, rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. After shaking off the last remnants of sleep, he shuffled toward the washroom for a refreshing morning shower.

Emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel draped around his chest, Jungkook was unusually energized. Instead of following his usual routine of lounging around until breakfast was served, he marched straight to the kitchen.

The maid, who was busy arranging the counter, froze mid-action as Jungkook walked in.

“Young master?” she asked hesitantly, unsure of what to make of his unexpected presence.

“I’ll handle breakfast today,” Jungkook announced confidently, his voice carrying a rare determination. He reached for a pot on the counter, the assertiveness in his tone throwing the maid into a state of confusion.

“Eggs?” he asked, glancing at her. The maid quickly recovered and rushed to the refrigerator, handing him a tray of eggs.

Jungkook placed the eggs on the counter and picked one up, holding it delicately between his fingers. “What do we usually use to break these?” he mumbled, scanning the kitchen.

“Give him that hammer. It’ll work perfectly,” Mrs. Jeon’s amused voice chimed from the doorway, her arms crossed as she leaned casually against the frame.

Jungkook shot her an exasperated look. “I’ll manage, thanks.” He grabbed a spoon and tapped the egg lightly, cracking it open with a mixture of determination and awkwardness. “I’m making egg mayo sandwiches and banana smoothies,” he declared, as if he’d just unveiled a grand culinary plan.

“Young master, sir doesn’t like smoothies. Should I prepare kimchi rice instead?” the maid offered cautiously.

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, waving her off. “I said I’ll do it myself.”

“But..” she started, only to be interrupted by Mrs. Jeon.

“Let him try, nuna,” Mrs. Jeon said, amusement dancing in her eyes as she returned to her seat in the dining room, resuming her newspaper.

For the next half hour, chaos ensued. The once-pristine kitchen transformed into a battlefield. The egg lay half-scrambled in the pan, the rice bubbled in a pot without proper seasoning, and the kimchi sat untouched in a bowl. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood in the center of the disaster zone, a hand on his chin as he pondered his next step.

The maid watched the scene unfold with a mix of concern and suppressed laughter. “Do you need help, young master?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

Jungkook shook his head stubbornly. “I’ve got this,” he said, though the mess around him suggested otherwise.

Just then, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Mr. Jeon appeared in the doorway, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. “Do we have something to eat?” he asked casually, adjusting his watch.

“Ask your son. He’s in charge of breakfast today,” Mrs. Jeon replied from the dining room without looking up from her newspaper.

Mr. Jeon raised an eyebrow, glancing at the disarray in the kitchen. “Oh, no worries. I’ll grab something from the hospital canteen. I have a surgery scheduled in an hour.”

“Hm, probably safer that way,” Mrs. Jeon added dryly, her lips twitching with suppressed humor.

Jungkook scowled at her retreating figure and then at his father, who was already turning to leave. “Dad!” he called, jogging after him.

“Yes?” Mr. Jeon stopped, his expression a blend of curiosity and impatience. “Do you need something?”

Jungkook hesitated, shifting on his feet. “Your wallet,” he finally blurted out, his cheeks tinting pink.

Mr. Jeon raised an eyebrow, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “Why, may I ask?”

“Um, just… necessities,” Jungkook said vaguely, snatching the wallet and quickly taking out some cash. He handed the wallet back, avoiding his father’s amused gaze, and darted back inside before he could be questioned further.

Mr. Jeon stood there for a moment, watching his son’s retreating figure with a mix of bewilderment and amusement. Turning to his wife, he sighed. “Our son’s determined to set the kitchen on fire, isn’t he?”

Mrs. Jeon lowered her newspaper just enough to flash a sly smile. “Well, every master chef has to start somewhere.”

"That's right." Mr Jeon murmured as he left the home.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sighed as he stood in the kitchen, staring at the chaos he'd created. The uncooked eggs, half-done rice, and untouched kimchi mocked him from every corner. He crossed his arms, determined to salvage his attempt, but deep down, he knew breakfast was a lost cause.

"Okay, fine. Cooking can wait," he muttered to himself, already mentally filing this under 'future goals.' He imagined himself as a skilled chef someday, flipping omelets like a pro. Yeah, someday.

Shaking off the thought, he turned and headed to his bedroom. After rifling through his wardrobe, he picked out one of his best outfits.. a cream sweater paired with fitted black jeans. He admired himself in the mirror for a moment, brushing his hair into place, then grabbed his bag and a book before heading out.

As he hopped into the living room, he noticed his mom slipping on her shoes by the front door, already dressed modestly.

“Mom, wait!” Jungkook called, rushing toward her.

Mrs. Jeon turned to see him bounding over, her brows lifting in curiosity. “What now?”

Jungkook pointed at his cheek, pouting slightly. “Do you see this? What can we do about it?”

His mother leaned in, examining the small pimple. Her lips pursed. “Eat less oily food. Drink plenty of water. Stick to your skincare routine.”

Jungkook groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re a dermatologist, and that’s all you’ve got? Aren’t there like, magic creams or something?”

Mrs. Jeon chuckled, swatting his hand away. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s barely noticeable. Now, let’s go before you’re late.”

The two made their way to the car, and Jungkook slid into the passenger seat while his mom started the engine. The hum of the vehicle filled the air as they drove through the quiet morning streets.

A few minutes into the ride, Mrs. Jeon broke the silence. “Jungkook,” she began, her tone carrying a hint of warning, “you need to stop spending so much time with that boy.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows, looking at her. “Which boy?”

“That one… what’s his name again?” she asked, tapping the steering wheel as if the name would come to her.

“Gyu?” Jungkook offered hesitantly.

“Yes, him. Stop it. I don’t like you hanging around with him. He doesn’t seem like a good influence, and you know your father. He’ll be furious if he finds out.”

Jungkook crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “Mom, money and social status don’t define someone’s worth. Gyu is a good person, even if he doesn’t fit into your perfect mold.”

“Jungkook!” Mrs. Jeon snapped, her voice sharp with authority. “If you’re going to class, go to class. Study hard and come straight home. I don’t say anything when you spend time with Jimin, but this Gyu business.. it should stop here. Whatever is going on between you two, it’s not happening.”

Jungkook’s face flushed with anger as he turned to stare out the window. “You can’t control my life, Mom. I have the right to decide who I spend time with.”

Mrs. Jeon rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. She clicked on the turn signal and began slowing the car down.

“Out,” she said curtly.

Jungkook blinked in disbelief, whipping his head around to face her. “What?”

“Out of the car,” she repeated, her voice firm as she leaned over to open the passenger door.

“Mom, you can’t be serious!” Jungkook protested, but the stern look on her face told him otherwise.

“Get out and find your own way to class,” she said. “Maybe the walk will give you some time to think about what I’ve said.”

Grumbling under his breath, Jungkook grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, slamming the door shut.

Mrs. Jeon rolled down the window, giving him one last look. “Drink water and stay out of trouble,” she said before driving off, leaving him standing on the side of the road.

Jungkook watched the car disappear down the street, then adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “She actually left me here,” he said aloud, shaking his head.

Jungkook blinked in disbelief as his mother’s car sped off, leaving him stranded. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and stared down at his shoes.

He kicked a loose pebble on the road and sighed. The morning wasn’t turning out the way he had hoped. His half-hearted attempt at making breakfast had been a disaster, his face now sported an unwelcome pimple, and now his mom had left him stranded because of an argument about Gyu.

With a deep sigh, he started walking toward the coaching center, the morning sun beating down on him. “Someday, I’ll have my own car,” he grumbled. “And I’ll never, ever let her forget this.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of the thoughts. He pulled it out to see a text from Gyu.

Gyu: Morning! Are we meeting after class today?

Jungkook smiled despite himself, typing back quickly.

Jungkook: Not sure. Mom’s on the warpath today. She kicked me out of the car.

Almost immediately, the typing bubbles appeared.

Gyu: What? Are you okay? Where are you?

Jungkook: I’m walking to class. No big deal. She’s just mad about us hanging out.

Gyu: Classic Mrs. Jeon. Want me to pick you up? Maybe we can skip today's class then some 'us time'?

Jungkook hesitated. He liked that Gyu was always there for him, but he didn’t want to make things worse. He could already hear his mom’s voice echoing in his head, her tone sharp with disapproval.

Jungkook: No, not today. I’ll see you later.

He pocketed his phone and kept walking, shaking off the irritation bubbling inside him. He knew his mother meant his wellness. She always did that, but her obsession with status and appearances drove him crazy. Gyu might not fit into the perfect mold she wanted, but that didn’t make him any less of a good person.

As he approached the coaching center, Jungkook spotted a familiar face sitting on the low wall by the entrance. It was Jimin, his friend, casually flipping through a notebook.

“Hey!” Jungkook called out, jogging over.

Jimin looked up and grinned. “What happened to you? You look like someone just ruined your morning.”

Jungkook plopped down next to him, throwing his bag on the ground. “Mom kicked me out of the car.”

Jimin snorted, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. “I guessed it. What did you do this time? Is it because of the test result?”

“Nah. She doesn’t like Gyu,” Jungkook muttered. “Thinks he’s not ‘right for me.’ Whatever that means.”

Jimin tilted his head, his expression softening. “She’s just being protective in her own way. You know how parents can be.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a kid anymore,” Jungkook said, crossing his arms. “I can make my own decisions. She doesn’t get to dictate who I hang out with.”

Jimin shrugged. “True. But maybe try to see her perspective? It’s not about controlling you.. it’s about what she thinks is best. Doesn’t mean she’s always right, though.”

Jungkook groaned, leaning back against the wall. “You sound like her right now. I just want her to trust me, you know?”

Jimin nudged him playfully. “She does. But she’s also stubborn. Wonder where you got that from?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “Shut up.”

The students rushed through the corridor, signaling the start of class. Jungkook straighten up, grabbing his bag. “Let’s go. Maybe today will suck a little less once I bury myself in books.”

Jimin chuckled, falling into step beside him. “That’s the spirit. And hey, if all else fails, we can always grab food later. My treat.”

As they walked into the building, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Maybe his mom was being unreasonable, but he’d figure it out. He always did. And for now, he had people who had his back, and that was enough.

..to be continued..

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