ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓙eon 𝓙ungkook

Jungkook had always thought that life got simpler with age. No more shocks, no more impulsive decisions, no more big mistakes. Only the days seemed too long. He woke up almost every day at six in the morning, black coffee, the same office, the same automatic greeting to people he barely knew. Nothing was wrong, but nothing was right either.

At 34, she had learned to live with that dull calm. She called it stability, although deep down she knew it was another form of weariness.

That afternoon he arrived at the downtown building a few minutes earlier than expected. He had an appointment with a social worker for a procedure he'd been putting off for months. The waiting room was almost empty. He sat by the window and checked his phone without really paying attention to what he was seeing. His head ached a little; he'd slept badly again. Then he saw her. It wasn't a revelation, it wasn't a shock, nothing happened that could be explained as a significant event; he just looked up out of habit, and something inside him stirred.

The young woman, who looked no older than 15, sat on the other side of the room, a large backpack propped at her feet and a yellow notebook on her knees. She wrote with a concentration that seemed to isolate her from everyone else. Jungkook didn't know why he kept staring at her, but it was very strange.