LAST RESORT | JIKOOK ✔️

9. HUNGER FOR INTIMACY

Jeongguk hasn't been able to tell whether or not Jimin was telling the truth during their phone call just yesterday. And as he sits on his living room couch with his keys in his hand, he's left to wonder if Jimin actually took someone else's shift tonight or if he's trying his best to avoid seeing the businessman again. The contemplation eats away at him but ultimately, the former option bleeds it's way into his thoughts much more strongly than the idea that he could be lying.

And so on impulse and perhaps rather recklessly, Jeongguk gets off of the couch and hurries out of his penthouse, toward his car. What he should be doing is going over the paperwork at his headquarters as well as throwing together a meeting to analyze the recent waver in shares. As suspected, nothing can remain in any shape or form of order when he's absent.

When Jeongguk climbs into the driver's seat, before he even starts his car, he curls his fingers around the wheel and sits silently, lost in his train of thoughts. This isn't a good idea. He shouldn't be doing this. His father is never happy but he should be responsible anyways and do his job properly. But why in all of this does Jimin shine more prevalently than any other aspect in his life? His older sister came barreling into his room last night and the most that he did was brush it off because Jimin was in the other room, soaking in his bath.

He can't recall when it was exactly that his priorities changed so drastically. He doesn't want to believe that they have. His hunger for intimacy with Jimin shouldn't be any greater than his drive for business and work. It's what he has known almost his whole life. He started at a young age and different than most kids, absolutely loved the idea of being taken under his father's wing to follow in his footsteps. The thought that he could make a name for himself seemed as tempting as toys did when he was just a boy. And maybe it wasn't healthy then, maybe it still isn't now because he's still young. But he couldn't see it then.

And even if he does see it now, it doesn't phase him. He's thankful for the choices he had made - for this choices his father had made. Because although most of his childhood had been stripped away from his very fingertips, now, he can have everything and anything that he wants.

And he wants Jimin.

Finally, Jeongguk takes off toward the club. His fingers drum restlessly along the leather of his steering wheel and his eyes strain on the red light that's blazing at him from across the intersection. It almost feels like it's poking fun at the businessman's impatience, purposefully extending the duration and magnitude of the wait as well as Jeongguk's hunger. To those surrounding him in their own vehicles, there's no doubt he embodies an angry bull sizing up a red flag. As soon as the light turns green, he foot hits the gas and he speeds through the intersection.

When the fluorescent purple lights of the club bleed into Jeongguk's peripheral, his avidity to meet the blond increases at a rate that makes him feel vulnerable. He messes with the tie around his neck after finding a place to park, staring ahead through his windshield at the entrance. People are both leaving and going in, tripping over their own feet and clinging to the shoulders beside them. He can recall the last time he'd gotten so drunk that he wasn't able to walk straight, mostly because he was in high school when it happened and he got caught and punished for it.

Jeongguk drags his ring adorned fingers through his brown hair, climbing out of his car. He wanders through the street carefully, weaving between spurts of grouped people to get inside of the building. It smells just as it did the first time, the strong aroma of alcohol and sweat mixed into one like a lethal cocktail. Jeongguk's eyes wander the back counter first in search of a familiar blond and at first he believes his search is fruitless. But he spots Jimin coming out of the back with his hands full of supplies. Even from this distance, he seems tired simply by the way he carries himself. Most likely due to late night cramming sessions for his school.