61. IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES

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The young man ran a hand through his hair, combing his fingers through the dark strands, then took a pack of cigarettes from his trouser pocket

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The young man ran a hand through his hair, combing his fingers through the dark strands, then took a pack of cigarettes from his trouser pocket. He hastily grasped one of them in his slender fingers and slipped it between his lips, only to set it on fire after a while, shielding the fire from a strong gust of wind. He felt his hands trembling with nervousness and his stomach contracting painfully. He couldn't even remember the last time he was so upset. He felt sick. His right leg bounced nervously on the uneven pavement.

He looked at the phone's display to check the time. After taking another drag on his cigarette, he looked around carefully, hoping to see the two men he had been waiting for. There were still a dozen or so minutes to the scheduled meeting, but he felt a growing nervousness nonetheless. He was afraid that every, even the smallest, mistake on his part could lead to a tragedy.

"Tae!" A familiar voice suddenly called behind him, and he instinctively took a drag on his half-smoked cigarette again and hastily extinguished it on the lid of the trash can, then turned back. Seeing his friend, he breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry for being late. We were stuck in a traffic jam," Seojoon explained quickly, smiling apologetically.

The man next to him raised his hand up and looked at the face of the expensive watch. Taehyung looked at him for a moment, somewhat intimidated. He had seen him before, but he felt so upset every time they met, he remembered little of it. Giovanni, because that was the man's name, was at least a dozen years older than him, almost a head shorter. His hair was jet black, only a few lighter highlights appeared at the temples, which meant that the first gray hair would soon appear in this area. There were several distinct crow's feet around almost black eyes, which indicated that the man was certainly laughing a lot. His skin was smeared with the Italian sun. Today, as always when they met, the Italian was wearing an expensive suit and a leather briefcase was in his hand.

"Ma non ti preoccupare! We still have time," the man said, patting him on the shoulder to cheer him up, his lips curving into a broad smile.

Taehyung just nodded. He was too nervous to focus on anything now. He lifted his hands almost involuntarily and adjusted the tie that tightly wrapped around his neck. He hated ties. It was probably the third or fourth time in his life that he had had the torture device slung over his neck, and it made him feel as though it were suffocating him. He couldn't wait to finally loosen that knot and take off those horrible clothes. He felt like in disguise. He was wearing a white shirt and a black suit. Black elegant shoes on his feet, and his dark hair was combed back smoothly. He would have liked to have come here in his favorite leather jacket, but he knew people judged others by their appearance. Especially people like him. So he couldn't risk letting something so trivial decide his future. If thanks to the fact that he jumps into elegant clothes and covers his tattoos, and brushes his hair back smoothly, someone will think he's a better father, so be it.

"Don't be so nervous, Tae," Seojoon said softly, as if he wanted only him to hear his words. "You look like you're about to pass out..." he assessed, studying his face carefully.

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