walls gold-plated (but the room feels like you)

2. Paper

All of his mornings start well before the sun is up, when his alarm clock blares at four o'clock sharp. Sometimes he stalls waking up, buries his face into his pillow and thinks about how nice it'd be to go back to sleep for once. But usually he gets right out of bed after the first sound of the alarm. He didn't get where he's at in life by hitting snooze.

This morning had been no different. Wake up, work out, shower, and to the office no later than 6 a. m. to start typing up the agenda for the day and chipping away at a wall of new emails that came in overnight from contacts in different time zones. Then after his staff start arriving, the meetings start. Meetings, conference calls, phone calls that run over into lunch so long that the food his assistant brought him is tepid by the time he finally gets to eat. And then, usually, more meetings.

Rinse, repeat.

That's how he's come to be one of the youngest CEOs in the country and runs his management team like a well-oiled machine.

And generally, Jeongguk is very content with his life and feels a great sense of accomplishment every time they successfully launch a new foreign subsidiary or finalize a share purchase with the second largest bank in China.

But today, with daytime dragging into evening, and evening dragging into nighttime, he finds himself reconsidering the life choices that brought him here.

"Jeongguk."

He looks up from the computer screen to squint at his assistant, eyes fatigued.

"Takagi called me back and said the conference can wait until tomorrow." No matter how many times Jeongguk has told Seokjin that he can go home on days like this, he never listens. That doesn't mean he doesn't do everything in his power to get them both the hell out of the office before midnight.

Jeongguk sighs and leans back in his chair, rotating his stiff shoulders. "Then let's call it a day," he says, much to both their relief.

"I second that," says Seokjin.

Once they're out of the elevator and in the parking garage, Jeongguk lights up a cigarette and lingers by the driver side door of his car.

Seokjin tuts, shaking his head. "I thought you were trying to quit."

"I try to quit at least once a month," Jeongguk says.

"We all have our vices, I suppose," Seokjin muses, digging his car keys out of his worn leather laptop bag.

"Have a good night, Jin," Jeongguk bids with a wave of his hand.

"You too, Jeongguk. Stay out of trouble," Seokjin calls. The sound of his engine starting cuts through the quiet garage until it fades into the distant city noise of car horns and sirens, leaving Jeongguk alone with just the sound of his own exhales and the whir of halide light fixtures overhead.

Although he's exhausted, his mind is wired; it always is after so many hours of plugging away at full force. He could use a drink, maybe. Or two or ten. It's a Friday night, after all, and he hasn't had a real moment to unwind since, well.