Jungkook steps into the ornate elevator and presses the button for floor 15, taking a moment to look at his reflection in its walled mirrors. No need to check, really. He knows what he'll see. Jet black hair coiled effortlessly on top of his head, sharp features further accentuated by all nighters and missed meals, one of the thousands of tailored Italian suits he owned hugging his body flatteringly, and to top it all off, a stern poker face he had fallen into the habit of wearing at work. He guessed he looked good, if “good” meant all his female co-workers fawning over him and asking him needless questions like “How are you today, Mr. Jeon?” when he knew that all they wanted was to either get into his pants or his wallet. Often both. He definitely knew he was intimidating if he could tell anything by the way his coworkers tiptoed around him and how their conversations halted at his presence. He doesn’t blame them. He’s not really a social butterfly compared to his hyungs, not as simple as Yoongi or as charming as Namjoon. Factor in his merciless policies, no- attitude, and the fact that he’s the heir to the whole company, and he’s practically no man’s land. Yet, alone in the overly fancy elevator, surrounded by soft music, to himself, he just looks tired. “Maybe I need vacation,” he murmurs to himself. But Jeon Jungkook doesn't do vacations. He does work and more work. The only vacations he knows are coffee and bathroom breaks, and he would think about his health if he had time to think, but he doesn't. He's a busy man. Jungkook peeks at his reflection again and sighs heavily.

When the elevator dings and the doors slide open to the wide foyer, Jungkook strides out, his faux confidence back in play. He’s a confident man at the core despite his brief periods of doubt and insecurity. He's accomplished, and he sure as hell knows it. But he's also very human, which is something most people, including himself, often forget. Jungkook glances down at his Rolex out of habit as he makes his way to the reception desk. Yoongi had drilled it into him since he was in elementary that punctuality could either make or break a deal, promptly gifting him the Rolex for his 12th birthday. Back then, he had whined about the boring gift being too heavy for his wrist, but Yoongi had laughed and said that it would be perfect in ten or so years. And his hyung had been right, of course, the brilliant Rolex now sits comfortably on his wrist as if it was made just for him.

“Good morning Mr. Jeon.” The girl at the desk (Ha Kyung? Ha Eun?) greets him, failing to hide the blush that rises to her cheeks when he meets her eyes.

“Good morning,” he answers steadily. He holds her gaze for a second before clearing his throat impatiently.

“Is Mr. Min ready to see me?” he finally asks, sighing inwardly.

There's a slight pause as the girl seems to remember the reason why Jungkook's here.

“Oh! Yes, I-I.. You can go right in, he’s expecting you,” she says, gesturing toward the dark oak double doors.

“Thank you,” he says, ignoring the way her eyes continue to rest on him as he reaches for the cool metal handle.

Jungkook steps into the large office, which, despite its glass walls boasting a sprawling view of the city, sleek gray tone and black couches, is surprisingly homey. There are candid pictures of family and friends on the wall right next to an M.B.A. certificate, shiny plaques and framed newspaper articles. Jungkook spots himself in more than a few of the photos, grinning brightly, laughing carefree in a way that makes him feel something akin to homesickness, if home was a time in the past and not a location. He doesn't even remember posing for these, but he does remember being that happy, that easy going. The good times. Well, all good things come to an end and youth doesn't last forever. It's but it's true.

Yoongi is talking with Jimin, his personal secretary, their heads together, arguing in hushed voices. They're oblivious to Jungkook's approaching figure, both absorbed in whatever lays in front of them, jabbing at the clutter of papers on the desk which he guesses are contracts until Jimin grumbles “I still think you should go to Duck Duck over Taste of Seoul.”

“But I like Korean food,” Yoongi frowns. “And I refuse to go to a place that calls itself ‘Duck Duck.’ That is an atrocious name. Can you imagine the articles? Min Yoongi endorses Duck Duck!’”

“It’s cute! Besides, I can't believe you want to go all the way to America and just eat more Korean food.”

“But Duck Duck is Chinese anyway. By your logic shouldn't I just go to Johnny Rockets and stuff myself with milkshakes and burgers?”

“You know what Min Yoongi, do whatever you want.”

“Don't drop formalities brat, I'm older than you. And I'm your boss.”

“Sure, boss.”

Jungkook coughs and Yoongi and Jimin turn simultaneously towards him.

“Mr. Min, you wanted to see me?”

“Jungkook, oh my god, don't call me Mr. Min that sounds so weird.”

“But we’re at wor--”

“But you're my dongsaeng. Jeez, when you're in my office just call me hyung.”

Jimin gives Jungkook a small smile and hello and then excuses himself to give them space to talk. Jungkook doesn't miss the sadness clouding Jimin’s eyes the minute he turns away from Yoongi, or the lingering glance he throws at him before stepping out of the office. Jimin’s sudden change in emotion throws him off, but he turns back to Yoongi quickly, determined to get on with the conversation. Yoongi doesn't seem to notice anything, his head down as he shuffles the papers (which were food critic reviews and restaurant photos completely unrelated to business) on his desk into a haphazard stack before shoving it into a random manila folder. Jungkook can understand now why Yoongi is so lost without Jimin. His hyung was a lot of things but organized was not one of them.

“Mr. M--Hyung, you're going to America again?” Yoongi traveled a lot because of international contracts and the like. It was all part of the job, but Yoongi always managed to make each trip out of the country a mini vacation, much to the chagrin of Jungkook, who preferred to always separate work and play.

“Who are you meeting with this time? I thought we’d taken care of everything with Union Pacific.” Jungkook furrows his brows. As far as he was concerned, other than a few miscellaneous corporative branches in America, Union Pacific was the only major company they ever interacted with personally on a regular basis. “You can't possibly have found another potential investment already.” He pauses. “Wait, have you?”

Yoongi laughs and shakes his head, making his way around his desk to the couches. “Jungkook-ah, my dear little brother, not everything is