Song : Nothing | The Script

Narrator POV

"When will your last day be?" he asked, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.

"I will be here for another two weeks," he replied.

"Okay," was all that Jimin responded with before he opened the large doors to his office and stepped in, closing them slowly behind him.

He sat at his desk and leaned back, placing his feet on the table. With a short glance over his shoulder at his home (his penthouse was opposite this building and on the floor eye level to his office, he made it this way on purpose) and he tossed the letter onto the table, frustrated.

Jimin was a somewhat composed person, he would be able to hold his tongue in a disagreement, and take deep breaths in order not to say something too rash, but right now he didn't give a damn about any of that. How was he going to find another secretary he was compatible with? He had spent countless years with his current one, and they finally had things right.

Soon, a message alert popped up on his computer screen. Sitting up right, he grabbed the mouse and opened it.

Mr Park, Nara has asked if she could speak with you about the new magazine layout. I told her that you didn't have time at the moment and that she should just ask a little later. Next time she asks, what should I tell her?

Jimin sighed and ran a hand over his face.

Only his secretary knew who Jimin minds talking to and who he didn't. How was he going to suffice without him?

Thanks, next time just tell her to email me the ideas.

Jimin replied and pulled out his work. He sighed as his eyes scanned the stack of files in front of him.

Today is going to be a long day.

Jimin was a weird person. He would often put his whole heart and soul into his work, and when he was done, he would have nothing left.

Today was going to be another one of those days.

Once Jimin dived into his work, there really was no going back.

At around 1:30, there was a knock at Jimin's door.

"Come in," Jimin said, his eyes trained onto his screen.

Jimin's secretary walked in, holding a tray of his infamous sandwiches as well as a glass of water.

"Don't forget to have your lunch," the man said, leaving it on top of Jimin's side table but Jimin didn't move his eyes from the computer. His secretary bowed slightly before he sneaked back out of the room.

As soon as the door was shut, Jimin's head sharply turned to the food.

The crusts cut off of the sides, and the whole sandwiches cut into triangles. He knew him so well. Jimin didn't know what he was going to do without him.

Oh actually he knew; starve and most likely get ill again.

Secretary Park was almost like his father; reminding him to take his pills every day, eat three meals every day, exercise to keep in shape, read a little so he doesn't lose touch with his studies. 

And Jimin had two weeks.

Two weeks to find someone to replace him.

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He was at work until 4 the next morning just trying to finish off the presentations for his board members as well as collecting statistics for the company's prior progress and failures. By the time he was done, however, he couldn't even stop his eyelids from drooping the way they were.

Secretary Park had put some dinner out for Jimin and had put his night pills in a little container beside them.

Jimin didn't hesitate before taking them dry, although it was unhealthy, it was something he did over and over again.

He was told to go home by his secretary and he had thought that maybe that might actually be a good idea.

After adding the final touches, he sent the documents over to Jung Group, their new supplier and switched his computer off.

The time flashed; 05:03.

He thought of going home for a shower and a quick nap before coming back to work in the evening.

He quickly sent a message to his secretary and headed out, taking his car keys with him. Good thing Secretary Park wasn't there to nag and tell him that he was in no condition to drive right now.

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Jimin entered his floor and staggered to his front door. It was hard for him to even walk in a straight line, anyone watching would have immediately assumed he was drunk.

But he wasn't.

In fact, he hadn't had a drop of alcohol in five years.

He was drunk tired.

He managed to reach his front door, but the exhaustion was pulling him down, fin