park jimin knows hunger. by all definitions. in all manner of contexts.
a gnawing emotion that left a gaping hole where his compassion should have grown.
and to fill it he seeks to sate a different kind of hunger. 🥀
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
• 🥀 • chapter three • 🥀 •
"Jimin, move. Now."
He recognized that tone.
It didn't often come out in public, not unless Jimin pushed.
And Jimin had, indeed, pushed.
🥀 {earlier} 🥀
They'd arrived at the dinner about an hour ago, at the banquet hall of some flamboyant hotel or another.
Wading through a sea of impossibly tedious conversation in which powerful men tried to puff out their chests by spouting their contributions to the company this quarter. As if they themselves were some naturally charismatic master of sales and negotiation. As if they themselves weren't carried by a team of unseen, unfairly compensated employees on a lower rung of the corporate ladder.
As if Jimin cared.
So he just smiled, nodded. Hating and berating them privately as he tracked each of the wait-staff on their respective endless orbits along the perimeter of the banquet hall. Calculating just how long he'd have to wait to conveniently intercept one of them for a glass of fucking champagne.
He heard a subtle cough from Seung-hyun, their cue to bow out of their current conversation. Of course, this only happened when Seung-hyun grew tired. Jimin, on the other hand, typically suffered in silence.
Jimin followed until his husband paused, then he waited and watched as Seung-hyun's eyes scanned the room.
Searching.
And, momentarily, the analytics manager found his target for the night.
Some department head or other, recently divorced and fighting a custody battle with his bitter, middle-aged ex-wife.
Ripe for Seung-hyun to rub in his successes, including his still-young, still-hot trophy husband.
Jimin rolled his eyes, disguising the gesture as a glance up at the beautiful stained-glass ceilings while Seung-hyun led him, arm in arm, to where his colleague stood near a sculpture on the opposite end of the room.
"Ryom! Ryom, I thought that was you," - Ugh - "I'm surprised you didn't bring your wife! Still planning your anniversary trip?"
Lack of compassion, it seemed, was not something that Seung-hyun saved specifically for Jimin.
The man spoke, eyes empty and voice much softer than expected, "I'm- No... We ended things two months ago, Lee. I suppose I never mentioned it at work."
Jimin regarded this Mr. Ryom, a short, balding man who looked as if the loss of his family had utterly destroyed him.
And Jimin could feel the smugness radiating from his husband, whose arm tightened around the curve of his waist, silently pulling Jimin closer.
