STRAY // JJK x HYBRID (bunny)✔️ Re-Writing

CHAPTER 30

BO-YOUNG

It's not my first time traveling by train, oddly enough. Grace rarely left her home, so neither did I. At the time, just being near Grace was enough. I didn't want or need to see new things, hell, I didn't even know what there was to see. The most time I spent "outside" was in her beautiful greenhouse. Although fairly small, it cultivated many different flowers. Every day I'd walk through the small greenhouse, and every day I'd find a new flower. Now I know that there are things more beautiful than the small flowers Grace grew. I now know that there is so much Grace neglected to tell me about. 

Jungkook is sleeping peacefully next to me, his head resting on the wall right next to the window. I peek over his form to look at the scenery. Passing townhouses and short apartment complexes pass. Now and then a wall of graffiti will show up, sometimes with beautiful and artistic graffiti, and sometimes with ugly and quickly done slurs, abbreviations, and names. 

I remember the one time Grace took me on the train with her. I was fourteen or so at the time. I remember my back aching from the heavy luggage I was lugging behind me. I was skinny and weak back then, but Grace was weaker. 

She had sat me down at the window seat, where I'd be the most hidden. Grace, being a feeble elderly woman, couldn't defend me if someone not-so-accepting of hybrids were to pick a fight. Although those situations were rare, they still popped up on the news enough for Grace to take notice. She pinned my ears down with her expensive hairclips, which had large embellishments. She braided my overgrown hair, hiding my ears in the braid. The process was painful, but the pain would stop once my ears settle in. 

Grace always spent the long process of braiding my hair telling me about how it was necessary. HPS (Hybrid Protection Services) was just founded and wasn't nearly as strong as it is today. The bright side, though, was when after my ears were not visible, people would indirectly compliment me, well, more to Grace than me. They would say things like: "Isn't your granddaughter pretty."

We were headed for the small headquarters of the HPS. Grace was planning on donating a generous amount of her wealth there. She had complained for as long as I remember, always raving about how all the extra money did was tax her more and look pretty on her bank account. One of her favorite things to say was: "If this money won't save me from death, then what good is it?" 

She always said the most cynical things with the sweetest smile on her face. 

That was in 2013, three years before she died. She was right, the money couldn't save her, especially since she didn't have much of it when she passed. 

Jungkook shifts his hand to cover his eyes, the sun waking him up. 

"Jesus Christ, don't the passengers in front of us know to ask before lifting the shades?" he complains. 

"Grumpy Kook," I remark, chuckling at his anger, which is honestly warranted but petty. 

"I have the right to be annoyed and grumpy. I was having a good dream too," he whines, stretching his hands up to stretch. 

"I don't understand how you can fall asleep on a train. I'd never be able to. It's too hectic and shakey," I say with a sigh. 

"I thought you'd be great at sleeping anywhere and at any time, you have survived on the streets for-" he pauses, a deep look of concentration on his face, "I can't remember how long you've been on the streets." 

"I don't think I've told you a number. I've always been very vague about it, saying things like 'many moons'," I chuckle, a slightly guilty feeling washing over me like a sadistic wave of regret. "I don't think I've ever thought of the exact number. I usually just spout out random numbers when I'm asked, not that I'm asked that often. The nice coffee shop lady thinks I'm 25."

"What's the last date and age you remember? Any birthdays, or-"

"I said I haven't thought about it, not that I can't figure it out. What year is it?" I ask. 

"2019," he answers, eagerly waiting to hear my age. 

"Ah, then I'm around 20 years old. I was 17 in 2016, the year I became a stray," I tell him. 

"Ha, I'm 2 years older than you," Jungkook laughs as if he were relieved. I decide to ignore him, instead deciding to spend the time I could be childishly arguing with him figuring out his mental age. Jungkook stops chuckling and turns to me. I can see that he's noticed something. 

"Why are you holding your ears down?" he asks, his head tilting slightly. The question catches me off guard. I hurriedly let my ears bounce up, releasing all of the pressure, but only some of the tenseness caused by forceful flattening. 

"Force of habit," I say with a shy looking smile. "Grace was always very particular about how I hid my ears when we were in public. It sounds horrible, but it was a different time back then. Now my ears are stiff and ache a lot, but flattening my ears was a better option to being possibly beaten to a pulp." 

Jungkook looks at me, a mixture of concern and sadness in his eyes. He sputters for a couple of seconds before composing himself and saying: "okay, this is going to sound terribly awkward, but I could massage your ears for you if you want."

I stay still for a moment, the humming of the train's ventilation system being the only noise to be heard other than the quiet chatting coming from the seats ahead of us. I look at him. Apparently, I looked frightened because Jungkook quickly stutters out a clumsy apology. 

"If you don't want to, that's fine. I won't take it personally. I just think that it could help- I'm sorry if I freaked you out," he stumbles over his words, gesturing frantically with his hands. I can see that his cheeks are red from either regret or embarrassment. 

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