His unorthodox pace of the feet hastens even greater as he virtually glides through the edifice along a cheshire smile, barely brooding to greet the commonly jovial receptionist, painting a straight streak to the elevator. His forbearance stripped of necessity, the sunny feeling in his insides snowballing by every tick and admission of passengers.
His eyes could shape a lanky male, clicking on the mouse away in an up to date Macbook, a token of thanks from the father of the running man, in the third most spacious cubicle, the small doorway carved in 'manager.'
Taehyung prods on the door, to be replied with a stolid and silky "Come in."
He's met with a stoic visual of the most imposing man in the building.
At least to Taehyung.
"Is father in there, Hyung? Can I go?", the exuberant, youthful man fretfully inquires of the other youth, albeit triple years older than him.
The older person in the room summons creases in his eyebrows, but retreating back to stoicness in a brisk understanding, "I've asked you to not call me hyung," the octave of the silver voice plummeting, "And sir hasn't returned from the meeting, but you can wait, as always."
Taehyung befalls in a speck of chagrin, but climbs off to the state of being unsurprised.
"Great!", the one with box like smile chirps, deserting the previous and springs into the generously stark cubicle, equipped of premium and ideal gadgets, interior and succulents gingerly stowed near the lengthy window, situated in the entirety of the inked out wall, right to the work table mounted in papers, a holder of necessary ink and char, and half a taken caramel cream cake, a favorite of the Kims, the head being the keeper of the huge conglomerate, plastered to perfection from the ground.
The only occupant doesn't appear mused and takes stagnant steps, legs lethargic from the sprint to the sickly dessert, which entrances his mouth a split moment later.
The sugary burst with a bit of sour zest fluxes into his taste buds, and strands him with an appetite of bowling another similar food which became a staple for the shuffling thoughts of his works, which demands its deserved undivided attention.
"He probably left it here for me sensing I'd visit him after the acquisition," Taehyung chortles and chews on the last chunk of the cake.
"Now, where is the speaker when I need it?", Taehyung seeks a near three sixty in the room before perceiving it by the shelf of plants, stowed enough to have casted a shadowy mold on the platform.
Taehyung hums a tune from the fifties, the rich tone of his vocals magnifying what he'd say of his father's second, no, his only home, nearly hopping in the face of the speaker. Pressing on the opaque right arrow, he permits the jazzy cadence permeate the room.
His coat and shoes are discarded on the crown and leg of the lofty swivel chair, feet furrowed on the knees, his rear on the charcoal marble flooring, eyes contemplating the near afternoon orange colored sky.
To him, this unchaperoned moment can not be anymore fulfilling.
Sky, sun, plants and him.
The small speck of the everlasting nature he can conjure near to him in the mere moment.
He entails himself to the tune, the warmth, the serenity and his headspace brimmed with what he will call "victory" today.
The initial footing towards his dream.
One he is overly passionately molded about. Even after all these years.
And Yangwon out of all places. The biggest hotel chain in the entire length and width of Incheon. No, Seoul.
YOU ARE READING
not what you think
Fanfictiona kim taehyung/v novel "You may only know your dream, but let me tell you something, you'll never rise to the top whilst trampling people under your feet." "Congratulations on achieving your first ever goal, although I can't say I'm doing so with a...
