𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒 | 𝐊- 𝐏𝐎𝐏

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗒 𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾

Chapter 5
Chapter Text
You aren’t quite sure what to make of your current situation. On one hand, you’re grateful for the way things transpired between you and Hoseok. If nothing else, you’re glad that the tension in the house seemed to dissipate almost instantly. You wished you could say that Hoseok’s sunny and playful disposition was a constant in the house—but just as soon as it came, it had evaporated. Only this time it really didn’t have anything to do with you.

From what you could gather from his clipped phone calls and the stack of paperwork on his desk nearly tripling in size—something was falling through on Kyoto’s end. You didn’t know what or how, you’d heard mentions of zoning permits and fines, a slip up here and a cut corner there. Hoseok was positively furious, you could tell as much with the way his entire body seemed to vibrate with it. He was stretched thin and caged in. His door to his study was all but glued shut most afternoons and you hadn’t seen him for a decent meal in going on four days.

It’s why you currently stood outside of his study, hands gripping the tea tray you’d snagged from the kitchen some time ago. Mrs. Lee and the rest of the house staff were under strict orders not to disturb him and you couldn’t be entirely sure whether or not that applied to you—you did however know that he wasn’t eating. He was barely sleeping and you knew this because you’d passed by his study more than once to check. You aren’t even entirely sure it was your place, but either way—

Your knuckles rap softly against the oak door and you wait for a response that never comes. You try again and pray that you don’t prick his temper.

On the third attempt, you open the door immediately after, decidedly worried about whether or not he was passed out in there. You peek your head in and his expression is pinched, irritable—he has a phone pressed to his ear and he’s speaking in rapid Japanese.

You wince when you make eye contact, already mouthing an apology and trying to back out. Hoseok smooths his expression and shakes his head at you. One hand gestures you inside while the other scrawls quickly over a post it.

You creep over to his desk and set the food tray down as quietly as possible, your voice is just above a whisper, “I’ll just leave this her—“

‘Stay,’ Hoseok mouths and your eyes widen. He moves around the table to clear the stack of files off his only available chair and pulls it out for you.

Hoseok pinches the bridge of his nose and you’ve gotta assume it’s something the person on the other lines said that pissed him off. You can understand bits and pieces of what he’s saying and from the general gist of it, it sounds like someone fucked up. To clarify, it sounds like someone who gets paid a lot of money not to fuck up, fucked up.

He’s on the phone for another five minutes while you sit there a little awkwardly. But you have to admit it’s somewhat of a privilege to see Hoseok work—it was one of his many facets and it was so easy to forget that he’s been groomed his entire life for this. Every class, every tutor, every trip he followed his father on—a seventeen year old kid sitting in on board meetings with executives—was all so that he could sail through this with as much ease as possible. He ran the company with a practiced ease and from an outsiders perspective, what little you’ve heard in conversation over dinner with your brother and father—Hoseok’s transition into the company couldn’t have been any smoother and it could all be attested to the fact that this is all he’s ever known.

His work ethic reminded you of Jimin, it’s a wonder they didn’t get along better. Then again, maybe it’s not. There couldn’t ever be two alpha males, after all and Lord knows those two radiated it waves.

“Sorry,” Hoseok inhales deeply, drawing you from your thoughts. When you blink up at him, he looks incredibly winded—you know it’s not from exertion, but rather the rock that sits on his chest. The knot of anxiety Jimin spoke about on the rare occasions he would open up to you. It was a high stress job and it wasn’t for everybody. When you got to a certain corporate standing, if you were lucky enough, investors came calling. But with investors came boardrooms and board members and stock shares and a whole bunch of complicated factors. If one wasn’t careful it was very easy to get voted off the figurative island. It was even easier to get made into a figurehead of a company you’d founded yourself.