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A black-haired man walks swiftly through the lively, lit-up streets of Seoul. He doesn't pay much attention though, too deep in the swirl of his thoughts to acknowledge his surroundings. His walk is brisk, beautiful even—the walk of a man at a job. And that's what he is up to this late in the evening—on his way to a restaurant for his job.
His job? A food critic. Something he's always dreamt of doing when asked about his future. Apart from...well it doesn't matter.
The man stands in front of the lovely glass doors of the hotel, contemplating. He checks his watch and smiles. A good thirty minutes early. Would they be ready for him? Oh well, it's always really nice surprising people. He's willing to bet everything in the kitchen would boil down to chaos as soon as he's identified.
And then a thought flickers through his brain. A man's face. With a beautiful smile. His smile falters a little and eyes tear up. He misses him. He does. So much. The love of his life, the light of his eye, and his ex-husband, Jeon Jeongguk.
He erases the thought. Focuses on the building in front of him. A newly opened restaurant, and one that gained popularity really fast. Boy did he want to check it out. His eyes landed on the elegant sign. Petrichor, it spelt, in a splendid font with bright lightning.
'Petrichor? Well, let's hope it tastes as good as it smells then.', he thinks and moves on his feet ready to enter another world of taste, although his mind flashes him through another little story.
"Maybe someday I'll be good enough, if I keep trying! I could open my own restaurant too and name it...oh. I don't know."
"You could name it after your favorite smell in the world, petal. Afterall you never stop talking about it."
"You mean the scent of the rain and wet mud? I could?! Is there even a word for it?"
He walks up to the reception desk right beside the door, observing every little thing carefully.
"How may I help you tonight, sir?", asks the lady at the desk, breaking him out of his reverie.
He looks at her for a second and smoothly answers, "I have a reservation under my name. Kim Taehyung."
Taehyung watches as her eyes go wide with recognition before regaining her calm demeanor, hurriedly checking her computer and taking him to his seat. If she did have any question as to why he was early, she didn't let it show.
'Hm, quite professional, not bad.'
He sits on his table, not bothering with the menu. Just sits there, taking in the lovely scent that filled the atmosphere and his equally beautiful surroundings, checking his watch from time to time.
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"He's here!!", squeaks the voice of the receptionist, echoing through the kitchen, even with all the clatter and chaos.
