"The rage tore me apart - it always does."
Lalisa Manobal-Kim's only setback is her obnoxious indignation. Jeon Jungkook's pride lies in his condescending urge for perfection in everything he does. When Lalisa returns to Korea after one and a half...
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The sound of the plane landing echoed throughout the waiting area.
Busy chatter, furious businessmen complaining about their flight layovers, & solo travellers hoping for a break from stress bustled throughout. The dull grey interior shined as the sunlight was reflected on it. The workers rushed in a hurry to provide the customers with whatever they wanted.
It was a mess. But in the midst of the mess, he sat with a posture that showed nothing but blatant confidence, as he stared down at the luxury airport his father owned as a co-operative project. Taehyung took a sip out of the glass of liquor he had in his hand, not removing his gaze from the exterior even once. Even through the one way glass wall that separated him from the crowd, it was almost like he could feel the emotions that the people were showcasing.
Tension. Nervousness. He felt both of those emotions combined as well, with a much larger intensity.
Kim Taehyung had never been the type to get nervous. With his dad's money and his rebellious behaviour, he never had to worry about anything. After all, those two things were the perfect combination to give rise to spoiled rich brats. Everything was handled by Kim Daehyun - even his son's misfortunes and frequent prison visits. But Taehyung didn't consider himself as a rich brat. His ardent narcissism combined with his partly whimsical nature made it impossible for him to worry about anything.
But the only thing he was nervous about right now, was meeting her. The person he'd completely forgotten about. The person he last saw when he probably didn't even know how to clean his own shit. Taehyung had only met her last when she was leaving off for Thailand. He still remembered the last time, when he held her hand and led her to the private jet his father owned, not even realizing that this was the last time he would get to hold those hands. The voice of his father echoed in his mind, now is the time to prepare you, as soon as she had left, leaving that little five year old alone with his parents but no one to talk to. It had been so many years, so much time, and finally she was here.
There was a quiver of questions rising in his mind. He wondered how she looked now, how she spoke now, and most importantly, what she thought of him. Her being his sister, if only half, he had a little idea; the hatred is common in their bloodline — if not anything, she was angry at him. Enraged. Furious.
Kim Taehyung thought that he was an exception when it came to that hatred. But his father had never intended to make him soft. Through rigorous training and days of starving, he made it through — after all, nothing some sweet little marijuana couldn't solve at the end of the day. Ever since his sister had left him alone with his miscreant of a father, he had never been able to enjoy thoroughly; until he turned fourteen, and made his first friend. Since then he'd been on a loose — practicing combat, archery, and all those martial skills in the day, and sneaking out at night to hang out with his own friends. And then finally, at the age of seventeen, when he was finally fully trained, his father left for the neighbouring country Japan, for his business expansion and also for the purpose of constructing another residence just to name it ‘home’ when everyone knew that it was just a house; a big villa with luxury, but definitely not a home. How could it be one, when his father didn't care about his wife or his son, back in their homeland?
