Jongin lost balance and fell to the floor after a particularly rougher slap—that he wasn’t quite ready for but should have been—from his own raging father. Kim Jongsu gritted a few words that cut mercilessly through his son’s chest; about how useless and easily disposable Jongin was, exactly like his piece-of-trash of a mother. A bone cracking punch and a brutal kick to the ribs made Jongin crawl his way out of his father’s office with wide horror laced orbs; nothing but pain urging him to get out as soon as possible from his monster of a father’s eyesight. He violently coughed into a tight fist, a few drops of crimson blood made his face run out of color in an instant. Jongin shakily got on his feet and reached his hand towards the door handle, praying for his dear god that his father was done with him and that he wasn’t going to be harshly pulled back in for another lesson.

The minute he opened the door, a young male with pale skin and droopy brown eyes—that widened comically at the sight of Jongin’s beaten-up state—came face to face with him. His hand freezing midair next to his shocked face, clearly indicating that he was about to knock on his father’s office door. The said young guy was wearing a shabby grey suit that looked old enough to be his great grandfather’s property; a loose orange tie that would most likely fit a clown better than a guy probably applying for a job at his cruel father’s firm. His hair was a mess of disheveled brown locks and his shoes were a disaster wrapped in a pair of black converse. He looked utterly ridiculous and not only was he going to get his kicked as soon as he put foot inside of Kim Jongsu’s office but he was going to get completely humiliated in front of every single worker in this building; not to mention Jongin’s father would make sure no one of his CEO friends in this particular business domain—and god knows how many of those he has—give this boy a chance to even blurt out his full name if he ever goes to their companies wearing what he was wearing at the moment.

“What do you want?” Gritted the expensive black suit clad heir. The menace in Jongin’s tone was fake but awfully necessary. He wanted to scare the boy off himself so his life won’t get ruined by the mere meet with his father.

“I—I’m here for a— a job interview, sir.” The boy pathetically stuttered and Jongin couldn’t help but sigh in sympathy as he ran a hand through his well-groomed dark hair.

“What for?”

“I’ve been informed that there’s an available architect position in Mr. Kim’s firm.”

“It's already been taking care of, we no longer need new architects. You might leave now.” Jongin firmly stated with a blank face, although he was actually feeling sorry and a bit guilty about the cold way he was treating the poor boy with. But a cold Kim Jongin was a hundred times better than a heartless Kim Jongsu.

“But—but the lady over there—I mean the secretary told me that Mr. Kim is waiting for me—“

“I said, you might leave now.” The young pale male frowned at the harsh tone of the taller male, before huffing and storming with fast steps towards the elevator with barely audible mumbles that sounded highly like Chinese (probably curses or voodoo spells). Jongin shook his head at the clearly unprofessional childish male before walking with graceful steps towards the secretary’s desk. He leaned on her wooden desk with a pout and briefly remembered that he was quite childish himself most of the times. The pretty faced secretary gave him an empathic look before handing him a sterilized handkerchief to wipe off the stains of blood on his busted lower lip. He thanked her with a soft kiss on her left cheek before taking a leave. His whole body was horribly aching and the only thought that run through his mind was getting to his house as fast as possible so he could take a long warm bath and sleep his pain away afterwards. He waved goodbye to a bulky security guy and then was about to get into his car when he decided against it at the last minute. A nice walk would probably be a much better opti