Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

①① Red

Jeongin stared blankly at the mirror. I should be used to this. The tailored shirt, the suit jacket, the tie, a uniform. His uniform. How many times has he done this before? How many times have the buttons slipped from his fingers? How many times has the jacket stopped him from moving? How many times has the tie stopped him from breathing? As the only answer he received was his own vacant glare back, he began to wonder why the person in the mirror looked so unfamiliar.

A call came from the doorway, "Look at how handsome my son is."

His mother. Jeongin didn't opt to meet her face to face. Instead he directed his gaze through the reflection of the mirror to watch as she approached him, turned him around with a gentle hand, and yanked the tie from his fumbling hands. She was being meticulous about it, carefully wrapping the silky fabric around itself in a way that seemed impossible to come undone.

The lecture came a few minutes later, when she was still readjusting the knots in the tie to make it look perfect. She started, a certain venom to her tone that shut down any hopes for the future, "This is an important day for your father. You will not screw it up and you will behave like you are supposed to."

Jeongin kept his gaze down.

"We know this is a lot of pressure on you too, but we need you."

"I don't know why," Jeongin muttered, "I have assignments I need to complete."

"You are important to us," She fastened the tie to his throat. After a quick check to see if it was laying correctly and looked presentable, she warned, "Do you understand what I am asking of you?"

He nodded again.

"Tell me you understand."

"I understand."

"Thank you," His mother breathed out a sigh of relief, "Be ready in a few minutes."

When she was gone, Jeongin pulled at the knot tightened around his neck. It didn't loosen as much as he wanted or come undone but at least it was slightly more manageable then the unbearable noose she created for him. He glanced to the phone laying shut off on his desk. Maybe he text Felix or Seungmin, ask them to save him from this formality, or make a run for it when the opportunity arises. No, he straightened himself up. He had sat through plenty of these before, it would go no different; he would be a participation trophy in place of someone better. With a stranined smile decorating his face, Jeongin left the comforting shell of his room and joined his parents in the dining area.

The guests arrived shortly after. Unlike most of the "parties" his parents hosted, today was supposed to be a special day, a day for to discuss a deal of sorts. There were two of them, a husband and wife with faces so cold they could make the Matterhorn freeze over. Mr. Kim and Mrs. Kim, the first names of which he had never known, the lives of which he had never been a part of, yet suddenly they emerged from distant memories in the past to make deals with their families.

As they conversed over money, stocks, and business figures that Jeongin had no care in the world for, he could only stare blankly at his decorated plate. The food looked delicious, the aroma wafting through the room making his stomach cry out in hunger, but he couldn't bring himself to eat a bite. At some point he couldn't even bring himself to look at it, instead fixating on a small crumb resting on the clean table cloth. The blank stare he caught in the mirror returned to his face as his mind drifted somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but this place. Anywhere but his home.

"And Jeongin," The husband addressed the mentioned, finally acknowledging his presence since the first time that night.

He startled from his spacing, "Yes sir?"

"Do you remember the first time we met you?" The husband tested, his nose shoved in a clear glass filled with wine. Somewhere in the back of Jeongin's mind, he wondered what created such a tragic color, a red so deep he couldn't see through to the other side. What kind of wine held a hue that solemn?

Pinot Noir?

Jeongin tightened his grip around his utensils and answered the expectant husband, "I believe I was very young at the time. If I'm correct, it must have been at Mr. Park's funeral?"

The husband's eyes widden, "That is correct, I'm surprised."

"Although it was under tragic circumstances. My parents were able to make an important connection with you. I would never forget the generosity you've given our family."

"He's growing into a fine gentleman," The wife laughed. Not a laugh full of joy or of spite, but one that was hollow. Devoid. Jeongin couldn't help but compare it to the elation of the street racers he had experienced a day prior to this; genuine, clear, everything she was not. The wife kept the proper façade up as she stated flatly, "Your parents must be raising you well."

Cinsault?

"Yes," Jeongin was forced to bite his tongue and smile wide, "They taught me everything I know."

"You had another son, didn't you?" Where is he?"

"University. He obtained a scholarship from his excellent grades," Jeongin's Father was the one to cut off his own wife, shooting a quick glance. He was about to say more, opening his mouth ready to speak when his Mother cleared her throat, shot him a swift glare from underneath her own glass of wine, and continued on like nothing disturbed them.

Garnacha?

"And um..." The wife focused back to Jeongin, gave him a quick once-over, and pulled her lips into a frown so subtle he was the only one who could see it. Her nails hit against the silverware, "What about you dear?"

"Similar to his brother. Hard worker, top of the class," For a few seconds Jeongin's mother seemed proud of her younger son's accomplishments. Before he face fell ever so slightly, her politician smile becoming one of pity as she glanced at him, "But it's unfortunate. If only he tried a little harder, or listened to us more."

"That's a shame," The husband clicked his tongue. It resonated in the wine glass.

Zinfandel?

Jeongin scowled at his plate of untouched food. He blurted, "You're lying."

"I'm sorry?" His mother chuckled.

"When have I ever not done everything you ask of me? I'm sitting here because you demanded me to. Yet you act like I don't exist."

He could hear panic raising in her voice, "Jeongin..."

"I have never settled for less then perfect to please you. I have tried so hard to make you proud of me. Why can't you see that?"

Merlot?

"Why?"

His Mother set her utensils down on the plate. She smiled as politely as she could, spoke as softly as she could, "Jeongin, sweetie, you must know I was simply joking."

"Right," He laughed awkwardly. The dinner in front of him tasted bitter in his mouth, "I must have misunderstood your intentions. Please forgive me."

Malbec?

The husband spoke again, "A polite young man, too. He will go far in our world but I fear he might be too soft. I would be willing to let him intern at the company. I think Mr. Bang would like him; After all, he's about the same age his late son disappeared."

Barolo?

The conversation was drowned out by the ringing in his ears. Her eyes didn't leave him for the rest of the dinner. He knew that look from his mother; that docile smile but behind it she was seething.

Syrah?

Through his pounding heart and the noise filling his ears, he could only focus on the color of the wine.

Red.

✘