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The gentle air of winter caressed his cold skin as the moonlight underlined his emotions when he peered out the window into the starry night. He was unhappy, but he couldn't find solace in the solitude today. His jaw clenched as he overcame the gulp developing in his throat.
Mr Jeon had an unexpected quarrel at the dinner table, and he rose and departed without eating anything. It was serious, and he was tired of Mr Jeon taking unjustified moves for his company. It enraged him, and he couldn't agree with what was going on.
Unexpectedly, Mr Jeon has decided on the share, offering Y/n 30 percentile. But it wasn't because of this that he was angry; it was because he knew something was going on inside his thoughts that made him want Y/n to trust him more than Jungkook.
He groaned as he heard her whispery voice calling him "Jungkook." He felt awful for making her think he was furious with her when the truth was quite different. "Can I come in?" He turned to face her, as she peered through the half-closed door.
He sighed before motioning her in with his palm, "you don't need to ask," he said, his voice steely and low, not always sweet and vulnerable when he speaks to her. 'Perhaps he's upset with me,' she thinks as her lips form a circle, developing an undetectable pout when he turns back to the window, back facing her.
"You— you didn't have anything, should I get you something to eat?" Even though she wanted to apologise, the words never came because of the embarrassment, and she chose to tamper with her words. "No need," the expectedly dry response cancels out, but she understands. His company, his hard work, and her father-in-law should not have done it.
As she moved closer to him, she slipped in front of him, pressing her body against the window fence while keeping a safe distance from him. "I'm sorry," she says as she fiddles with the hem of her shirt, gazing down for a time before returning her sight to him.
It is still tough to look into his eyes, and it may always be difficult. She simply cannot do it without being nervous and shy. Eye contacts are too beautiful and rich for a small soul like her. And yet again, he does not just glance; he just gazes inside her soul, as if he could read her soul in a matter of seconds. And she finds herself averting her gaze from him.
"Why would you be?" He frowned and looked down at her, straining to respond. He folds his arms across his chest and waits. "I'm not sure why Dad does that, so please, I'm sorry." She finds herself answering his inquiry this time after looking into his eyes.
He chuckled, offending her in some way, and her face sulked more as a result, amusing at her expressing a face she never does, with eyes shaking and lips forming a small pout. "Please, don't be angry with me." As she muttered, debating whether to continue saying or stop.
"That was not even your fault, leave that, that was not even a fault," he groaned, slightly leaning to look into her eyes. I'm not even mad at you. It's simply that" he looked away before continuing, "he never cares to discuss anything ahead." Does everything rashly."
