Till Death Do Us Part ||Taekook||

Chapter #40 Pale

Tap Tap Tap Tap

"Welcome! Please find an empty seat."

Glance.

Tap Tap Tap Tap

"Welcome! Please find an empty seat."

Glance.

Two fucking hours. The opening act of my revenge plan was two hours late. In forty five minutes, we'd have to descend to the rooftop, throwing half my plan out the window. My knee bounced up and down in rhythmic motions. With every second that ticked past, I lost another brain cell. 

I rested my head on the palm of my hand. For the first hour, I got all of the meaningless introductions out of the way, allowing myself a gap of time where I could sit down at the long dining table undisturbed.

Everyone had already finished eating all five courses and were dispersed around the room, conversing with different groups of people every ten minutes like a twisted version of an assembly line. One thing Taehyung was good at was social events. He knew all the right things to say and who to talk to and when. 

He methodically moved around the room, meeting with every single guest. At times he would glance my direction, the audience he stood in front of would simultaneously follow his gaze. It wasn't hard to infer he was probably spewing some half assed lie on our perfect marriage.

My head was spinning, my stomach felt hot and heavy. If my plan went all to hell I might just surrender the whole fucking war. I was going to vomit. It took everything in me not to call Namjoon to pick me up early. I didn't want to be here anymore. 

My social battery was already drained the first ten minutes of talking to these sad excuses of intelligent people. They all had the same lives, personality, things to say, compliments, and weirdly enough, nearly all of them owned some white shaggy ass looking dog with some kind of crusty brown mouth.

Every time someone would pull out their phone to scroll through pictures of the same damn dog in different fonts it's almost like life re-entered their sad lives. Like their dog was the only thing they had to talk about that wasn't sex, money, or business. 

I could have all of their lifeless eyes captivated in seconds by even the dullest stories. I was careful which stories or lies I spewed, making sure if I was asked about them in the future that there wasn't much to remember or build off of. Just entertaining enough to keep people intrigued.

My calf began to cramp from how fast I tapped my heel against the ground. I began to sweat and I felt nauseous. I sat up quickly realizing I might actually puke. Puking was not part of my plan. I glided swiftly towards the bathroom, a hurry to my step. 

I turned down a long hallway, the bathrooms at the very end. My breathing quickened. I realized this wasn't just nerves. I was having a panic attack. I was having an actual panic attack. Here, out of all fucking places.

I felt a light tap on my shoulder. No matter who it was, the urge not to vomit uncontrollably while punching them repeatedly was weirdly hard to stop myself from. Knowing, panic attack or not, I was still Mr. Kim, reluctantly, I turned around. A man I didn't immediately recognize stood in front of me. I put on my presentation smile even though I had no idea who this man was.

"It's been a while Mr. Jeon."

Mr. Jeon? Sure, I've been called both by many of Taehyung's coworkers, but never so directly. I looked him up and down, digging within my broken memory for some kind of moment of realization. He picked up quickly on my lost expression. He hummed in disappointment.