A few weeks later
Namjoon is at his desk in his office, going through mountains of work due desperately for the next week.
His receptionist walks in and hands him his fourth cup of coffee for the evening and leaves to get to her own work waiting. Work is hectic, that the company employs nightshift worker to take over at times.
There was a lot to go through, events to oversee, meetings to attend and so much paper work to certify and read through. He slouches down into his chair after the fourteenth document, tossing it to the side with the finished ones.
The voice in his head tells him he's over working himself and should rest. However the work won't complete itself, and if he puts it off, the more there will be for tomorrow.
A tired sigh voluntarily escapes from his mouth as he closes his eyes for a second. That was wise because he can feel his muscles relax into the leather of the chair.
The time on his watch says that it's 8 pm.
"The boys would be up in their rooms right now or watching TV in the lounge room. It's Wednesday, movie night..." Namjoon says to himself.
He debates leaving now and reaching home just in time to see them off as they go to sleep but he knows he can't. Another long night is ahead.
He rakes his hand through his hair and loosens his tie, then chooses to remove it entirely. The heavy suit jacket over his shoulders is discarded as well.
A little moment of piece and quiet aught to the trick. The moment lasts too short before he hears the ping of an incoming email bounce in his inbox.
With an annoyed eye roll he sits up and opens up the tab. The message is addressed to him personally and is from his lawyer; they were quite good friends. The only thing that comes to mind upon seeing his lawyer's name is 'Who's suing us now?'
As he begins to read it, his face slowly gets tight. He clicks his tongue as he senses another potential issue brewing.
.
.
.
The Email:
Namjoon, we need to talk. It's concerns your son.
-Kang
.
.
.
Why he chooses to use emails to write such a small message, Namjoon will never know. He reaches from the table where his phone lays and dials up Kang's number. After the second ring, he picks up.
"Kang, what is it?"
"We need to talk,"
"Yeah, you said that already, what's this about?"
"I'd rather we speak in person, are you available?"
Namjoon looks towards the stack of documents on his table and turns the other way to avoid looking at them. "Yes."
"On my way."
Thirty minutes later, Kang steps into Namjoon's office. The man was clad in a fitting suit, a briefcase in hand and a buzz cut atop his head. He sits himself onto the chair infront of Namjoon's desk and pulls out a bottle of sensitiser; squirting some onto his hands and rubbing them together.
"I didn't need to see that."
Kang side eyes him. "You're the ones that's gonna die first cause of some disease, not me." Kang always had a thing with germs. Overtime Namjoon had basically grown accustomed to it.
