Chapter Text
Jungkook was used to exhaustion. The long nights at the hospital, coffee that tasted like burnt paper, and a quiet Villa that reminded him he wasn’t the kind of father who could be there all the time for his son. But lately, something else had been gnawing at him.
“Appa, today Mr. Park told me my drawing was amazing!” Jihan’s little eyes sparkled as he shoved a crumpled paper into Jungkook’s hand. “He even put a star sticker on it! Look, look!”
Jungkook glanced at the stick figure house with crooked windows. “It’s… nice,” he muttered, but Jihan was already rambling again.
“Mr. Park plays soccer with us during break, and when Hana fell, he carried her to the nurse’s office! He’s sooo cool. He said if I keep answering questions right, I’ll get a little prize from his treasure box.”
He frowned, tossing his stethoscope on the counter. “You sure talk a lot about that new teacher."
“Because he’s the best!” Jihan beamed, not catching his father’s clenched jaw.
For a man who spent years saving lives in the operating room, Jungkook couldn’t believe he was… jealous. Of an elementary school teacher. Who'd blame him? That's all Jihan talked about lately.
***
For the first time in weeks, Jungkook wasn’t running into the hospital, wasn’t buried in endless rounds or locked inside an operating room. Today, he was standing at the school gate.
When the crowd of kids poured out, a small voice shouted, “Appa?”
Jihan froze, backpack swinging off one shoulder, eyes wide as if he’d seen a ghost. “You … came?”
Jungkook crouched down, brushing his eight year old son’s hair back. “Surprised?”
“Grandma or uncle usually comes,” Jihan mumbled, still staring.
“Well,” Jungkook forced a smile, “today you’ve got me. How about we celebrate with pizza?”
The surprise melted into excitement so quickly it almost hurt. Jihan’s face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. "Yay!"
***
At the pizza shop, cheese strings stretched between their plates, and Jungkook tried to savor the moment which wasn’t often. Finally just him and his boy, laughing over melted cheese and soda. But then Jihan began again.
“Mr. Park said if we practice every day, we’ll be better than Messi,” Jihan said around a mouthful of crust.
Jungkook blinked. “Mr. Park?”
“My teacher,” Jihan answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s the best. Today he told us a story and~oh, he gives us candy when we answer questions right!”
That was the seventh time this week. Not that Jungkook was counting.
He was.
Jungkook’s mother already seemed to get more affection than him. His brother got more laughter. And now… a teacher? His chest burned, and every compliment felt like salt pressed into a wound in his heart.
***
On the drive home, Jihan kept chattering in the backseat.
“Dad,” he said suddenly, “who’s cooler? A teacher or a doctor?”
Jungkook tightened his grip on the wheel. Finally, a question he could win. “A doctor,” he declared. “A doctor saves lives, brings people back when they’re close to gone. That’s magical, isn’t it?”
Jihan nodded slowly. “Yeah… doctors are cool.”
Relief spread through Jungkook’s chest well, only until his son added, “But my teacher is the coolest. He scored ten goals against our whole class! Can you imagine that?”
Jungkook’s jaw ticked “I can score twenty,” he muttered under his breath, rage simmering just beneath the surface.
Jihan didn’t hear him. He was too busy humming happily, dreaming about soccer goals and star stickers.
Jungkook’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. For the first time in years, he wasn’t sure which battle he was supposed to win, the one in the hospital… or the one in his son’s heart.
***
The smell of kimchi stew filled the air, and Jungkook dropped heavily into his seat at the dining table. His scrubs were gone, replaced by a plain black hoodie, but the weight of the week clung to him like a second skin. He normally spent his free weekend at his mother's place. Which was rare with hsi schedule.
Across from him, his mother set down another side dish with a firm clatter. “You hardly come home anymore,” she muttered. “Always hospital, hospital, hospital.”
Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know why. I’m doing this for him. For his future."
“For him?” she scoffed, wiping her hands on her apron. “You think Jihan cares about your long hours? The boy doesn’t need a surgeon. He needs a father. One who plays with him, listens to him. You are the only one he truly depends on, Jungkook.”
The words landed harder than he wanted to admit. He opened his mouth to argue but found nothing worth saying. Exhaustion pressed on his shoulders, and it was always the same thing.
As if summoned, Jihan bounded into the dining room, face bright. “Grandma! Uncle Tae! Dad! Guess what?” He plopped into his chair, swinging his legs. “Mr. Park made us cookies on Friday! Chocolate chip! The best ever.”
Jungkook’s chopsticks stilled mid-air. Just what he needed, another cool thing about the mysterious Mr Park.
Jihan went on, grinning ear to ear. “He gave everyone five pieces, but he gave me seven! He said it’s because I was the best helper. He likes me the most!”
The boy’s laughter bubbled over the table, sweet and innocent, but Jungkook’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding.
Across the table, Taehyung raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh. Hyung, did you hear that? Someone’s stealing your throne.”
Jungkook shot him a glare sharp enough to slice steel, but Taehyung wasn’t done. “Seven cookies, huh? That’s a lot of love. Maybe I should meet this Mr. Park too. See what all the fuss is about.”
“Eat your food,” Jungkook muttered, stabbing at his rice.
Taehyung only leaned back, chuckling under his breath. “Careful, hyung. Sounds like your son’s already chosen his favorite man.”
Jungkook’s fists clenched under the table. He’d handled hostile surgeons, impossible patients, and thirty-hour shifts without blinking. But one elementary school teacher~this Mr. Park~was managing to undo him without even being in the room. He needed to end this.
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