AFTERTASTE. | J. JK

THREE.

CHAPTER THREE; REMINISCING GLORY

The pale bones of his knuckles snapped, in a pleasant dry sound, as he warmed his cold hands, this year's October had been particularly freezing and gray clouds had brimmed the skies even during the nighttime, even if a trickle of rain had yet to drop on the concrete buildings and metal gutters.

Autumn had always been quite a disheartening season for Jungkook, perhaps because wherever he'd look at there was this, completely stripped away, imminent death, the foolish moments before the beginning of winter reminding him that the worst was yet to come or, perhaps because it forced an ending to summer and fresh late nights in which he had once felt less lonely than he did now.

But, fortunately, was it summer, was it autumn or was it winter, he always had ways of distraction, most of them related to bringing the business back into its glory days. That was what he was doing, at the moment; tirelessly stitching up loose ends and cleaning away scandals. He sat down, in the most comfortable way he could, taking in consideration the cheap, cold metal chair he had been offered to use and he tried to enjoy the disgusting cocktail of pouring white drinks, Lao had convinced him to try, meanwhile he searched for the documents. God's nectar, Lao had proclaimed it but, all Jungkook tasted was sappy watery version of an expired bottle of vodka, its color repulsively resembling a golden piss.

The early sixties man, finally, emerged from the tall shelves of his small office, their rough wooden material filled it all up, leaving no space to breathe more than the smoke from the neglected cigar Lao had left to burn down to ashes on top of the ashtray of his desk. Under his arm, laid the file Jungkook had been waiting for this whole week and, seeing it, being squished by fat and sweat had him, naturally, cringing at the sight.

"Here you go, my friend! The official contract deal, the exception clauses and the confidentiality agreement. Read it carefully, we both know how Shin is a sly fucker." Lao advised through his thick glasses and broken Korean. After ten years of exile Jungkook thought Lao could have improved it but, it seemed the man didn't bother enough to do so.

"Shin has to work a lot harder if he wants to fool me. Men like him are nothing but gutter rats with their fangs a little too sharp for my liking." Jungkook laughed bitterly. "Lucky him! He holds something I want right now."

"Be careful, either way, G. No caution is ever enough in businesses like ours."

Lao, born and raised in Hong Kong, was, simply put, Jungkook's counselor in everything mattering Chinese waters and manufactures. His own personal link to one of biggest crime syndicate in this side of Asia. He had found exile in Korea after the announcement of an international warrant for his capture after his drug ring, all through China, had been busted by the feds, ten years ago. And, now, in his raging senescence, he was one of the most influential men connecting the Korean cartel with the Chinese one.

"It's always a pleasure making business with you, Lao." Jungkook signed the papers, after checking them to the tiniest of details, then, he handed them back to Lao, who, gladly, archived them back to their belonging file. The black-haired male pulled out the black suitcase, which he had kept at his feet during this time and placed it over the desk. Snapping the golden buckles and, opening the case, Jungkook turned it around for Lao to personally inspect with his likings for white gold. "Like we agreed, the reward for your work."

Lao's squinted eyes glistened in a delicious victory, a well-deserved one after such a hassle the younger man had put him through, his lips curling up, satisfied, lifting his aged wrinkles up to the corners of his eyes. But, before his shaky hands could touch the leather of the suitcase, Jungkook's were faster to devour its shining, closing it once again. The hiding of his beautiful reward replacing the short-tempered happiness for confusion. He smirked wittingly.

His fingertips tapped rhythms, entertained. "But, let's not forget who you are loyal to, right, Lao? If you slip up about what happened tonight, I might have to remind you what could had happened to you if my father hadn't helped you get that little, precious, exile privilege of yours. Get it?"

Falling back against his own chair, Lao nodded frightful, nots forming all through his throat, before Jungkook's eyes and lopsided smile that had quickly made a twisted turn, as he felt the man, whose hands were known from being tainted by the blood of everyone who ever dared to cross him, leaning in dangerously closer.

"Great!" Jungkook clapped his hands in appreciation and, as he got up, he extended his hand to the Chinese man. A softer, nevertheless disturbing, grin on his lips when Lao, hesitantly, shook his hand. "I hope to hear news from you soon, Lao."

"O-of course...!"

"Good night, my friend."

And, so he left, softly closing the door behind him, leaving, however, a knowing threat to the shaking man, Jungkook knew well how much he liked to sell himself to biggest bidder.

**

Rustling at the flavor of the autumn wind, the vivid red Chinese lanterns, hanging in the air like lost dandelions, twirling between the sound of rough mandarin and the crawling smell of traditional Chinese street food. Jungkook liked this side of the city, he liked the bright neon lights of Seoul's Chinatown, he liked how they danced on the palms of his hands.

"So, how was it?"

Jungkook tightened the coat around his shoulders, he breathed in cold air. "Effective, I hope. Still too early to call though."

"It'll be, it'll be. C'mon, let's go, Hoseok is waiting for us." He mumbled through the cigarette tight between his lips. Jungkook nodded wordlessly, pushing through the bright street crowds, Yoongi following shortly behind him, too caught on the pretty red and blue dragons painted fresh on the windows of the markets and cafes.

Little by little, as they gotten farther and farther away from the living breathing streets of Chinatown, the clearer the Mercedes van was, the sharp black and silver lines, the tinted glass windows hadn't left a place to doubt it, that and the most recent, most blinding orange ruffles of hair of Hoseok's from the opened window.

Jungkook plopped down on the backseat after Yoongi had taken the front one.

"I need you to take me somewhere important."

**

Walking around the dust puddles and the white rotten sheets over the aged furniture, Jungkook couldn't help to think how a place could get this empty when it once contained a big part of his own life. He wondered if it that was more of a sadder thought than a funny one.

It had been over two years since he had stepped foot on this pitifulness of an apartment and, surprising was to find a forgotten jacket over the couch, so carefully pulled over the armchair, it almost felt like it belong there all along. He had a blurred memory of the last day he wore it and, even if he didn't want to, he ended up reminiscing in that same blurred memory, falling, ultimately, in a chain of pain, blurry skies and aged matters of the heart.

He didn't dare to touch it, however, it felt like he was going to alter the past and, for as hurtful they were, his own blurred memories were also the happiest he could remember.

For the corner of his eye, he found the mattress he had never bothered to move into an actual bed. It would lose its essence, had been the reason and, even though he hadn't understood it at the time, looking at it now, Jungkook knew what she meant.

He looked over the only window of the studio apartment, it was night already and, just like two years ago, neon lights still pierced through the thick glass, blooming in every rainbow color. He wouldn't deny it, from all the shattered pieces of himself he so desperately tried to keep together, there would always be one that lost itself with her and, leaving behind only a void for him to adapt to.

Well, that was what he had been left thinking until last night's fundraising auction. And, something told him this time around things would be significantly different. Was he happy because of it? He didn't quite know just yet.

**

A/N: might be away for a while but i had this sitting on the drafts. lots of love.