KILL'ER • BTS

5 . W I N E

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❝ ʟᴏᴡ ᴛᴏʟᴇʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ ❞

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"Polite, charismatic, organized, absolutely respected," I said, my tired eyes travelling around the dad's office as it quickly got stuck on the framed photographs he had over his desk, my lungs taking a breath to oxygenate my neutral emotions.

I could still remember the day we had taken those pictures, the friendly sun causing our eyes to almost close, the wind covering our cheeks with messy strands of hair. The memories seemed so distant but felt so near that it was extremely hard to believe the number of things that happened in the following days and years.

Won't he come too, dad?

Still, my brain knew they were all real, not dreams or tons of illusions, just reality in its purest shape.

Jiso's not part of the family, Minhyan.

Walking around his office, he focused his eyeballs on his shoes, both his hands resting against his back.

Dad looked elegant. He had combed his soft beard and given good treatment to his skin, Sooyoung had ironed his clothes and fixed up his tie.

If I didn't know dad and his priorities, I'd think he was having a date with somebody that night.

"Anything else?"

"Actually, yes." I crossed my legs while moistening my lips, looking directly at his tall shapes, and his strong and demanding profile right after. I wanted to see his reaction so bad. "He asked me to be his secretary."

"What?" He turned to look at me, both his eyebrows raised.

"He basically wants me to replace Namjoon."

Although he didn't laugh, clap his hands and almost cry of joy and pride the way I had imagined, I knew he was probably a little bit glad, more motivated and hopeful too, he just didn't really know how to show that.

"Explain."

"Jungkook got to know I had tried to get a job in his company. The HR managers did not want to hire me, but he found me interesting." I clarified. "I do not really understand all his reasons yet, but he believes this can be very advantageous to both of us."

"What did you say?"

"I accepted it, of course. I had a glass of wine with him, went downstairs to take a picture for my profile and-"

"Minhyan, you never have a single glass of wine." Dad walked over to a couch, sitting. "Tell me you didn't do anything reckless."

"I am not an-"

"There's something else I want to talk about with you." I hated to be interrupted and he knew it. "How have you been?"

"I cannot complain." I shrugged, leaning my back against the couch I was sitting on.

"You know what I mean."

I was just trying to run away from all that again, from all his questions and all my issues. Dad could say I was but, in fact, I just wanted to focus on what was more important for now, and it was the company. Simple as that. I couldn't get why dad liked to make a fuss about it so much.