Salt Spice

Foreign

The rain seemed to pause as Jungkook huffed loudly for the second time in the previous minute. He pushed the large red binder away from him, believing if it had gotten far enough from him then it would disappear altogether—though, that wasn't the case at all, it was quite the opposite. The more he pushed the paperwork away, the more would appear surrounding it and drowning all other thoughts. It seemed to be a never-ending cycle and it was one he'd never been able to escape successfully yet.

He flipped one of the several pages of a completely different binder when the dull telecom present on his desk rang, making him jump in the slightest way. With a sigh, he pressed the blinking number and answered it, "What." He sighed, the answer not remotely sounding like a question. The pen in his opposite hand tapped rapidly against the papers on his desk, his brain frying as he thought about how to finish them. He rested his chin in his propped up palm.

"A woman is here to deliver your outfit for the GALA tomorrow night." His secretary—Darla? Debra? Dakota?—had said. He could never remember her name, he found the space it would take to remember it would be a waste on him and also on her. She'd always sounded so happy, it irked Jungkook, it made him wonder if he'd ever sounded as happy as her in his life. The answer was always no, though, and it made his stomach twist.

"Then send her in." He hung up before she could reply. While pressing his thumb and middle finger against his shut eyes he took a deep breathe out, flinching at the loud knocking that erupted from behind the door instantly—the sound made his brain want to cave in on itself, "Come in." He called and opened his eyes just in time to see the innocent faced women strolling in, her beauty made Jungkook's breathing stable, unaffected.

Her navy blue dress was skin tight, cutting off just above her knees with black heels to match. She leaned forward, flaunting her perky s as she laid the outfit on Jungkook's desk. He smirked at her subtly as he leaned back in his leather chair, fiddling with the pen still in hand. She knew who Jungkook was—a man with enough money to buy her the same identical Gucci purse a million times and not blink an eye, a guy she could flaunt to her mother and actually make her proud for once. Jungkook hummed, content with the thoughts.

He stood then, taking the clothes lined with a loose plastic in hand and examining them with a slow hovering look. He spared a glance at the still present women and squinted his eyes, "Thank you." He nodded his chin with raised brows, attempting to conclude their conversation.

"Is there anything else you need, Sir?" Her voice was flirtatious, soft and solemn and still present. It made Jungkook shiver in ways that weren't pleasant, he turned his focus back on the clothes and tossed them back onto the desk. The plastic settled while he repeated her question in his head and came to the conclusion that he was bored and in need of fun, a game of some sorts—he deserved it.

"What do you think?" He replied, sitting in his chair again and pushing it back. He turned it towards the edge of his desk, attempting to give a hint, a not so open invitation that she'd unmistakably take. Her brows lifted and he knew he'd hooked her. Jungkook had spread his legs and rested his forearms on the armrests of the comfortable chair.

She strolled around the desk, fingers dragging along it, and kneeled as quickly as she could between Jungkook's legs. Her brightly colored, claw designed, nails trailed up his thighs and he cocked his head at her. Hook, line, and sinker. Too easy, "What would your mother think?" He chuckled, pushing her filthy hands from his thighs, "What would she think about you falling to your knees within seconds for a man simply because he has money? Do you have any dignity for yourself?" He brushed his hands over his suit pants and as he stood, he buttoned his jacket.

"Get out of my office." He chuckled with a devilish grin, gesturing to the door, uncaring. She gasped disgustingly at his words and Jungkook felt the need to mimic her, making his voice obnoxiously high pitched and staring into her eyes as he made rude fun of it. He covered his mouth with a dainty hand for extra effect, watching as she walked as fast as she could—in the air restricting dress—out the door, "Fun." He mumbled to himself as the door shut with a loud slam.

When he threw himself back into the sinking chair, his eyelids became heavier and the rain outside poured down even harder.



The rain hadn't let up all night, though all that meant was that Jungkook had a good nights sleep. But, how good was a nights sleep in a half-empty king sized bed? How good was a life in a fully empty mansion? His mind tended to travel to that part of life while he laid in bed, though the minute he'd gotten out of it all dangerous thoughts of the kind stayed tucked in and asleep. They hurt his image, what he'd worked so hard to create and become. It hadn't helped to be nice, it only hurt.

Waking up from the tight and gripping sleep was the easiest task to check off Jungkook's—not as busy—schedule. It was already late, he'd slept in and even though he hadn't planned on it, his body obviously had a whole different schedule. While checking his phone, he'd seen the time was only two in the afternoon. He had hours to spare before the GALA event at seven and the idea to go to work for a few hours was swept away quickly.

Back to bed, he went.



The obnoxious blaring of his alarm jolted him awake, confusing him for mere moments before he ran a tired hand over his face with a loud sigh. Slamming his hand down to mute the alarm proved to be more difficult with eyes still shut than he thought. Though it was a nearly impossible task, he managed, checking what time the red stinging clock read. An hour until he'd need to attend a boring party with great booze and wine. He was almost tempted to stay home but, the wine was truly delicious.

As his bare feet hit the ground, they stung. The cold wooden floor in the nearly freezing—because that's how he liked it—house made the hairs on his body rise to action and wake him up fully almost immediately. But, pushing his curtains open nearly made him fall asleep again. The moon shone down directly in front of his window, bright and alive and there and clearly screaming at Jungkook: 'GO BACK TO BED.'

The moon meant night, which meant sleep. That's how he was taught.

He'd admit he was never good at listening, not even to his own advice. So, he shut the curtains, the lamp, and trudged to his closet, yawning loudly before removing his outfit for the boring, overdone, and repetitive event. He felt overdressed, but that was how you stole the spotlight off the main event—which was a crucial need if wanting to give your business any chance at making it was a priority of yours. He shrugged the short, black lined, wool jacket over his short-collared white dress shirt and pinned various brooches to it for added character.

Buckling the Gucci belt around his hips made him smirk at himself in the mirror, picking a pair of black sunglasses to complete the simple yet highly effective outfit. While in the car, he ed the top two buttons of his shirt and ran a tired hand through his black—freshly undercut—hair.



The GALA was packed with just enough room to pass between bodies without spilling a drop of your drink. Though the highest types of businesses were attending, there were still people—most likely their plus ones—on the dance floor grinding against each other as if it were their first free night in twenty years. Which could be true. Jungkook danced, it was a fun pass time and he felt free doing it. But, he kept that small fact to himself.

Jimin found Jungkook quickly, creeping up next to him as he stood in a comfortable corner and knocking their shoulders together. He stared at Jungkook with a wide grin, watching his bored glances at the people just mere inches in front of him, "Might as well go home then." He shrugged as he dropped his grin and Jungkook looked at him with a fabricated offended look.

"A simple 'hi' would've been just fine, ." Jungkook laughed, taking a sip of his wine then deciding to just down the rest. These parties weren't for him, he liked underground clubs and such. Places where he didn't get recognized or had to shake hands with every single human that approached him. The amount of hand sanitizer bottles a germaphobe could go through at these events was, without a doubt, in the tripe digits. It bored him, he wanted spicy but all they ever served was salt.

"I could've said hi, sure, but then the conversation would've died." Jimin said as he joined in on Jungkook's people watching state, "We would've exchanged hi's, then I would've asked how you were and you'd say you're fine and vice versa. Ergo, conversation dead." He waved his hands with his words, adding character to each pronunciation.

Jungkook picked a wine glass off the tray of one of the waitresses walking past, switching it out with his empty one then giving her a quick fake smile as she walked away, dropping the grin after she turned, "Wrong. It would've died when I said I was fine." He replied while Jimin gave a confused look, "I wouldn't have asked how you were. You're always happy." He downed the wine then and Jimin laughed—all happy and content and Jungkook had given a smile to the sound.

The night had barely even begun but Jungkook knew it would be going by painfully slow. Jimin leaving his side several times as he was dragged away to the dance floor was a sure fact of that. But, each time he came back to Jungkook's side, making sure he wasn't alone because truthfully, Jungkook was too intimidating to be talked to. That was an excuse often used, though it was a fact. He was all too intimidating to ask for a cigarette, but when he was the one asking for a cigarette he had them stumbling over their own hands. He'd worked hard to have that effect on people.

"How do you deal with that?" Jimin's voice dragged him back to the harsh reality, kicking and screaming. Jungkook swallowed harshly, straightening his neck and raising his brows at Jimin in confusion. He waited for a response then rolled his eyes as Jimin believed they had begun a staring contest. He looked away again, adjusting the cuffs on his jacket.

"How do I deal with what, Jimin?" Jungkook asked with a sigh, his fresh eyes scanning the live crowd with tired pupils. He knew too much about them, what they owned, what they bought, how they got to where they were today—which was on a sweaty and breaking down dance floor. Someone would be proud of that, but it wasn't Jungkook.

"With the staring," Jimin said.

Jungkook laughed lightly, "I usually only have to deal with you," He looked at Jimin to confirm his own sentence before he spoke the last words, "doing the staring." He finished.

Jimin shrugged it off, nodding his chin towards the far corner of the elegantly large ballroom and turning Jungkook's attention towards a man. Stature straight, eyes dark, and face handsome. And even though he wasn't standing alone, he seemed to be single-minded. But, his eyes were nowhere near set on Jungkook, making him a brow, sparing a glance at Jimin.

"When someone stares at you, sweet Jimin, they're supposed to have their eyes on you. That's how staring works." He gently slapped Jimin's cheek, giving him a warm smile and a simple nod, "You should've learned that in High School." Jungkook mumbled, feeling the need to make himself even more presentable for the man by straightening his jacket and pushing his hair back. Jungkook wanted the man's eyes on him, to feel the dark and unknowing stare glued to him.

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isthisreality08 #1
Chapter 3: I love your writing style! And I really likes your story but I can't help but want to know what happens to them next