Chapter Text
Namjoon loved Sunyoung, he truly did. It was hard not to, even if he had married her for all the wrong reasons.
She was incredibly wealthy, of course; that was one of the most important things he loved about her. Her late husband had died a few years before Namjoon set his sights on her, leaving her with his personal wealth combined with that of her family’s estate. That plus the gorgeous home in Seongbuk and her genuine love for art had Namjoon finally living the lifestyle he had always thought would suit him.
And suit him it did.
It was difficult to tell exactly who was the arm candy, between him and Sunyoung. All suspicious of why should would marry so below her status were quelled by their gallery and gala appearances, where they spoke in hushed tones to each other about the art displayed and food provided and everything in between.
And she was a very beautiful woman, too. Even though Namjoon definitely leaned towards men, she was attractive enough that he hardly minded fucking her. He was content to be a husband, but when Sunyoung got sick and sicker and then—well.
He took care of her extraordinarily well, and when it went beyond his capabilities, he sat by her side in hospice as often as he could. He pet her hair and massaged her hands and kissed her forehead, and made sure she went in company and in peace.
And when she said “Take care of my Jungkookie, Namjoon, please,” as she faded away, he assured her that he would.
Her son was the most important thing in her life, though many would not believe it.
Jungkook had grown up in a home with an absent father and a busy mother and doting nannies before being shipped off to boarding school. The very best of the best, too; his elementary and middle school tuitions had been more than any top university. He visited often during those years, going on weekend trips with his mother when she could get away, or coming home just for a meal or two. Though, of course, Namjoon hadn’t been there at the time.
Jungkook had been in high school by the time he and Sunyoung had met and married, and Namjoon had seen him on very rare occasions since.
First, at the wedding, when Jungkook had been able to visit home from the strict religious boarding school he attended in the states. He’d been fourteen and shy and awkward and, Namjoon would willingly admit, incredibly endearing. He made sure to promise Jungkook that he’d care for his mother, and would care for Jungkook as he was able to, as well. That generally meant paying his tuition and occasionally sending him an extra stipend as a show of good will, so it was an easy promise to keep.
Jungkook visited for a week when he was fifteen, as well, and for another at sixteen, right as his mother’s sickness had begun to set in. When she got sicker still, Sunyoung refused to let him come home. She didn’t want him to see her like that, she said. It was very clear to her then that she would likely not live much longer. She wanted Jungkook to remember her in a sunhat on the beach or smiling at him over his birthday cake—she wouldn't allow his last memory of her to be her laying on her sickbed, emaciated and gray.
Namjoon didn’t argue, didn't think Sunyoung was wrong for it. Jungkook was a sensitive boy, he knew, and the image would stick with him too terribly.
At the funeral, his heart broke when he stumbled onto Jungkook hiding in a closet, crying quietly into his knees as he sat on the floor. It felt natural to close the closet door behind him, sitting beside his stepson, ignoring how the closet was surely not up to his Armani suit’s standards. He didn’t touch Jungkook, he wasn’t sure if physical comfort would even be wanted.
Companionship seemed to be fine, at least.
“Thank you for taking care of her,” he said when his sniffles faded, almost startling Namjoon. “I-I’m sorry that I wasn’t here.”
“If you had come, she would have turned you away,” Namjoon said gently. “It was my duty and honor to care for her, and it was your duty and honor to obey her wishes and remember her for the beautiful woman she was.”
Jungkook nodded, but a choked sob escaped him in the very next breath. Namjoon froze when the boy threw himself at his chest, hugging tightly around his waist and hiding his face against his shirt. Namjoon’s shoulders sagged after a moment, shock wearing off, and he hugged him closer, rubbing his back and letting out a quiet sigh.
“She loved you, Jungkook.”
“I loved her,” he said tearfully. “I love her. I wish she was here.”
Namjoon nodded. He loved her, sure, but—
“She’s in heaven, hm?” he said, hoping that, with Jungkook’s rigorous religious education, the sentiment would put him at ease. “She’s much happier than she could ever be on earth, especially near the end. I’m sure she’s watching over you now.”
“A-and you,” Jungkook said. He pulled back and looked at Namjoon with huge, starry eyes that surpassed even his mother’s. “She loved you very much, Namjoon-ssi.”
Namjoon smiled a little and smoothed Jungkook’s wavy hair. “I loved her, as well. And I hope you know, Jungkook, that I—I’m here for you. You are not alone in this world, even with your mother gone. I am your father, am I not?”
Jungkook blushed brightly. “I-I meant no offense, I’m sorry.”
“There’s no offense to be had. I am your step-father, dear boy, and I will care for you where she cannot. You have family still.”
Jungkook’s sniffles began once more, though he wiped at his eyes to try to chase the renewed tears away. “Th-thank you, Namjoon-ssi.”
“You don’t have to be formal with me, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon said, patting his leg comfortably.
Jungkook furrowed his brows, glancing up at him through his lashes. “Namjoon-hyung?”
Namjoon hummed. He considered him for a moment, his teary face and vulnerable expression, how he looked so terribly small even though he had been bigger than Sunyoung for years now, how the boy yearned for comfort. And remembering that his father had died after being nothing but a ghost that occasionally manifested to lay cruel words on his wife and son—
“Call me daddy, sweetheart.”
“Daddy,” Jungkook breathed without hesitation. He threw himself at his chest, and Namjoon didn’t hesitate to hug him close once more. “Thank you.”