You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.
And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.
You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.
“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.
“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”
“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”
Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.
“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”
A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.
“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”
“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.
Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?
“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.
Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.
“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.
“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.
You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.
Park Jimin
Editor-in-chief
You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.
YOU ARE READING
-the (un)holy cock-up
Fanfictionthere is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday's spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as...
