Seven | BTS ✓

4

"Mr. Kim, what a pleasant surprise," the hostess says as Jin enters his restaurant.

"Hello, Jisoo. I just decided to come by to check on things since I'm out doing some errands," he says, and the corners of his mouth lift slightly.

"It's your day off, sir. Shouldn't you be relaxing?" she asks.

"Don't worry about me, Jisoo. I won't stay long. Let me leave you alone. Work hard!" Jin ruffles her hair as he makes my way past her to the dining room. The scents wafting through the air are making his stomach growl in hunger, even though he had eaten on the way here.

Smiling politely at his customers, he heads straight towards the kitchen at the back of his restaurant, struggling to ignore the pains of hunger desperately vying for attention deep in the pit of his stomach.

Yet it's not just a need or desire for food. No, the one thing he eternally hungers for isn't so easily obtained. Regardless of how much food he eats, he can never be fully satiated; the thing he truly craves still eludes him.

More than anything, he has an intense, gnawing ache for fulfillment. Not physically, but emotionally. There is an emptiness, a constant void within him that no amount of food can fulfill.

"Hello, boss!" his sous chef greets him cheerfully as he enters the kitchen.

"Hello, Mark. I trust you are doing well with being head chef today," Jin replies, careful to stay out of the way of the team of chefs preparing customers' meals.

"Not as well as you, of course, but I'm handling it just fine. Don't worry." He shoots a grin at Jin as he artfully arranges the various foods on pristine white plates.

"Table sixteen!" he shouts and rings the bell and a waiter rushes into the kitchen, quickly takes the plates from Mark and piles them onto his tray before hurrying back out into the dining room.

"What happened to this?" Jin asks. He's spotted a pan of noodles cast off to the side, forgotten.

"They're practically burnt, basically inedible. I'm sorry, I forgot to toss them out," Mark rushes to explain as he makes a dash to grab the dish, but Jin beats him to it.

"Let me. You're busy," he offers generously, twitching his lips up kindly.

"Thanks, Mr. Kim," he smiles before returning to his task of plating the cooked food.

Jin carries the burnt noodles out the back door to the alley that houses the restaurant's dumpsters.

Looking around surreptitiously, Jin scans his surroundings to make sure that he's alone, and after confirming that no one is nearby, he wolfs down the noodles, his hand blurring as it shovels food into his waiting mouth.

He sighs happily, uncaring of the acrid taste. When the hunger roars up and wails like a spoiled child, demanding to be filled, he'll put anything into his watering mouth to quell its lashing claws and piercing cries. He learned a long time ago that he can't ignore it.

Although his ultimate hunger can never be satisfied, food numbs the pain. Not having to feel the all-consuming emptiness is better than being swallowed up by it.

"Eat or be eaten," he mutters to himself, laughing bitterly.

The black band around his right pinky hits against the now empty pan with a clink and he can't help but get a bit nostalgic at the distant memory of being granted freedom one hundred years ago.

He sighs deeply and returns to the kitchen, to reality, leaving the dirty pan in the sink as he comes closer to the end.

"See you all tomorrow." Jin waves in farewell to his team of chefs.

He quickly departs from his restaurant after saying goodbye to everybody else. His shoes click against the pavement in a steady rhythm until he reaches his car.

After parking in the grocery store parking lot, he goes inside, selecting a basket at the door.

Dialing Namjoon's number, hoping that his brother will have some dinner ideas, he selects a milk carton, but it rings and then goes to voicemail.

Jin scrunches his nose in disgust when his mind involuntarily pictures what Namjoon must be busy with right now.

Shaking his head to clear his reeling mind of the horrifying images flashing through it, he decides to call Jimin. Maybe his favorite foods will cheer him up; he's been angrier than usual lately.

"Which moron thought it was a good idea to call me in the middle of my training session?" Jimin's voice, harsh and loud and stinging, crackles through the phone, and Jin flinches and yanks it away from his ear.

"I get it-" Jin pauses for dramatic effect before continuing- "Hell Wrath no fury like a man scorned." He brings the phone back up to his ear, cackling at his own joke.

"You have five seconds to tell me why you called before I find you and rip your throat out, Jin," he spits, and a loud crash in the background rings out. Jin winces and holds his phone several feet from his ringing ear.

He sighs through his nose, quick and heavy, and rolls his eyes.

"Can you call Taehyung and ask him what he wants for dinner? I was going to see what you wanted, but you're being mean."

"Call him yourself. I'm busy, as I mentioned before," Jimin replies. Jin's gaze moves up to the ceiling and back around in irritation.

Jin reprimands, "I'm older than you, so you have to do what I say." He represses a smirk and squishes the insides of his cheeks between his teeth to keep himself from laughing again.

"I'm—"

"I gotta go! Text me what Taehyung says please and thanks. I'm gonna go eat some grapes... of Wrath!"

Jin laughs again, loudly, and Jimin immediately hangs up on him.

He lets out a breath, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Excuse me, sir." A woman appears beside him.

"Yes?" he replies.

"Do you mind grabbing that bag of flour for me?" she asks. "It's out of my reach."

"Of course, miss."

Jin retrieves the flour and turns to hand it to her. He freezes when he catches a glimpse of her face. A distant memory is tugging at his mind: a girl just like her- without the emerald green eyes, but the burgundy hair, the silky smooth voice, the smirk plastered on her ruby red lips...

"Thanks, Gluttony." She winks at him as she takes the flour, and then rounds the corner to walk down the next aisle.

"Wait!" Jin calls after her, hurrying in the direction she went, but the next aisle is completely empty.

His phone grabs ahold of his attention when it vibrates in his hand, not having been put away after his phone call with Jimin. He glances down at it, eyes quickly taking in and processing the notification.

Jimin:
He said cook whatever you want

•••

edited by: @pfychespurple