He spotted a dimly lit bus stop and trudged toward it, his shoes squelching through the rain.
"Jungkook?" He recognized that voice. No...
"Don't call me that." His father jumped back, surprised by his clipped tone.
"Do you need somewhere to stay?"
"How is that your business?"
"You're my son."
"No. The moment you walked out that door, the moment you left me with her, you lost the title of my father."
"I'm sorry, Kookie. But I had to-"
"I said, don't call me that." The older man stepped closer, towering over him.
"That is no way to talk to your father."
"I suggest you leave him alone." A man in a dark hoodie leaned up against the pole. Jungkook felt his tongue swell in his throat.
The stranger kept getting closer, pushing himself between Jungkook and his father. The boy's breath came out in short pants, his heart racing, and palms sweating. His view bowed, everything became distorted and blurry. This only made him panic more.
The poor boy hadn't even noticed his dad had left, and he was alone with the stranger. The man pulled off his hood, revealing cotton candy pink hair. He smiled warmly at Jungkook.
"Honey, I need you to breathe for me, okay?" Jungkook shook his head.
"Please? Can you try for me?" The man kept his voice soft and quiet as not to scare the boy anymore. He gently took the younger's hand in his own, smoothing a thumb over the knuckles. Jungkook wrenched his hand away, scratching deeply into his own arms. The stranger had seen this behavior before, in someone he loved very dearly. A panic attack. The man stood up and backed away slowly until he was a couple of feet away.
"Baby, look. See? You're okay. I'm not near you." Jungkook looked up slowly. Everything was okay now. The stranger was away from him. He stopped scratching and regulated his breathing.
"There you go. Good." Two arms grabbed him from behind, clamping down and preventing him from moving.
"Be careful, he just had a breakdown." The man in front said, slowly coming closer.
"I saw. But he could get sick in this rain." The stranger takes a cloth from his pocket and gently holds it over Jungkook's airways. The boy's breaths sped up again, his hands twitching and begging to scratch at something.
"Watch his hands, he scratches." He held the cloth as two large hands covered him own.
"No, please." He sobbed, his breathing still irregular.
"Jimin, are you sure he'll be okay?" Jungkook looked up at the mention of a name. The pink-haired boy responded.
"He will be. It will just take time." Both men patiently waited for the chemicals to kick in, the cloth still over his mouth and nose. Black spots dotted his vision, though he couldn't be sure if it was the lack of proper breathing or the drugs. Either way, his consciousness left him.