The small town (jikook)

The Corporate Haze

The city hummed with its usual energy, a ceaseless, pulsing rhythm that filled every corner and crevice. As Jungkook stepped out of his car, adjusting his tie, he was greeted by the gleaming skyscrapers and the blur of people moving with purpose. This was his world—the fast-paced, high-stakes environment where he'd spent years climbing his way to the top. Yet today, everything felt strangely distant.

Walking through the glass doors of his company's headquarters, he could feel the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. His assistant, Mina, met him at the elevator, listing off the day's agenda with precision.

"Morning meeting with the project team in fifteen minutes," she said, checking her tablet. "You're scheduled to meet the client for lunch to go over the initial pitch. And then, you have the department review in the afternoon."

Jungkook nodded absently, his mind lingering on the sound of Jimin's voice from their call the night before. He remembered how Jimin had said, "I miss you too." That simple, sincere statement had left an ache in his chest, something he couldn't shake, even now.

He took a deep breath and straightened his jacket, trying to push thoughts of Jimin to the back of his mind. "Got it, Mina. Let's go."

The day unfolded in a blur of back-to-back meetings. In the conference room, he presented the project strategy to his team, watching them take notes and nod in agreement. He could hear himself talking—outlining goals, strategies, market analysis—but part of him felt detached, as if he were on autopilot. He used to thrive on the thrill of these meetings, the satisfaction of commanding a room, but now it felt hollow.

At lunch, he sat across from the client, a seasoned executive who looked every bit as polished as the expensive restaurant they'd chosen. They discussed numbers, logistics, and timelines, and Jungkook's responses were smooth and practiced. Yet, between sips of water and glances at his watch, he found himself picturing the small-town bakery where he'd shared pie with Jimin. The thought was absurd—here he was, securing a multi-million-dollar project, but all he could think about was a quiet café and Jimin's laughter over a shared slice of pie.

His phone buzzed on the table. Out of reflex, he glanced at it, half-hoping it was Jimin. Instead, it was a reminder of his next meeting, the departmental review. He sighed, returning his attention to the client with a polite smile, but the conversation felt forced.

Back at his desk later, as the evening settled over the city, he leaned back, loosening his tie. The office was mostly empty now, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a skyline bathed in twilight. Normally, this view filled him with a sense of accomplishment, a reminder of how far he'd come. But now, it felt... lonely.

He stared at his phone, debating whether to call Jimin. Would Jimin even understand the pull he felt between this life and the one he'd glimpsed in that small town? And yet, the thought of Jimin's voice—the grounding calm he brought—was the only thing that felt real amid the corporate haze.

With a deep breath, he finally dialed. Jimin answered on the second ring, his voice warm and familiar. "Jungkook?"

Jungkook's tension eased at the sound. "Hey... I just needed to hear you."

On the other end, he heard Jimin laugh softly. "Rough day?"

"You have no idea," Jungkook replied, running a hand through his hair. "I keep thinking... about everything we did yesterday. It felt so... simple. So good."

"Maybe you're just tired of the city," Jimin teased, but his tone was gentle, as if sensing the weight of what Jungkook was struggling with.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, looking out at the city lights. "Maybe. Or maybe it's that I finally found something that makes me think there's more to life than this."

The words hung in the air, more honest than he'd intended. He could almost see Jimin's expression soften, even from miles away.

"Then follow that feeling, Jungkook," Jimin murmured. "You don't have to figure it all out tonight. Just... take it one day at a time."

They stayed on the line a little longer, sharing small stories, trading quiet laughs. By the time they hung up, Jungkook felt a strange peace settle over him. But the question remained, lingering as he turned off his office lights and stepped into the city night: Was the life he'd built really the one he wanted?

For the first time, he wasn't sure.

Let's shift back to Jimin, giving us a window into how he's coping with Jungkook's absence. This scene will show Jimin's thoughts and how he's adjusting to the sudden distance, along with subtle hints of how deeply Jungkook's presence affected him.

The small town felt even smaller without Jungkook around, though Jimin tried not to let himself dwell on it. The bakery was warm and lively, as always, filled with regulars who knew him by name and stopped by the counter with friendly greetings. He was grateful for the familiar bustle—it kept his mind busy and his heart grounded.

But every so often, he'd catch himself glancing at the door, half-expecting Jungkook to walk in with that confident, slightly reserved smile. The thought made him pause, his chest tightening with a feeling he couldn't quite name. It was strange how someone who'd only been in his life for a short time had left such a strong impression.

He found himself working later than usual, lingering after the last customers left, wiping down tables, rearranging the displays, anything to keep busy. As he tidied up, memories of their conversations surfaced: Jungkook's deep voice recounting city tales, the way his eyes softened when he talked about his dreams, and, of course, the surprising vulnerability that peeked through in quiet moments.

A soft knock on the window startled him. He turned to see his best friend, Soojin, grinning at him from the other side of the glass. She let herself in, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck against the night chill.

"You're here late," she noted, raising an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

Jimin gave her a half-smile, shrugging as he continued wiping down the counter. "Just... keeping busy."

Soojin leaned against the counter, watching him knowingly. "So, this busy spell wouldn't have anything to do with a certain city boy, would it?"

Jimin rolled his eyes, though he couldn't hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "He left yesterday, Soojin. I'm just trying to stay productive."

She chuckled, nudging his shoulder. "Admit it—you miss him."

Jimin sighed, resting his hands on the counter and gazing out the window at the quiet street. "Maybe a little. It's just... he brought something different, you know? It was like he made me see the town in a new light. And now that he's gone, it feels like something's missing."

Soojin softened, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Maybe he'll come back."

Jimin managed a small smile. "Maybe. But he's got his life in the city, his career. I can't expect him to give all that up just because he likes a little bakery in the middle of nowhere."

Soojin tilted her head, her eyes thoughtful. "But isn't it up to him to decide what's worth it? Sometimes, people find what they're looking for in the most unexpected places."

Jimin took in her words, letting them settle. He had always been content here, finding joy in simple things, but Jungkook's presence had stirred something within him—possibilities he hadn't considered before. And maybe... maybe he didn't have to be the one making the choice. Perhaps Jungkook was facing that same question right now, deciding what mattered most.

As he locked up the bakery that night and walked home under the stars, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something. He didn't know where it would lead, but for the first time, he was willing to let things unfold without overthinking. For the first time, he felt a strange sense of hope—a spark of something that could be life-changing if they were both brave enough to let it grow.