Golden •vkook•

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Young, vivacious
Hopeful
Filled with thoughts,
Bursting
To the praise received,
Clinging
A bright star,
Rising.

•••

"Your little Jungkook is so talented," the teacher gushed, placing a heavily lotioned hand on the bowed head of the boy in question.

"Oh, I know he is," the chic woman with the sleek, long black hair commented with apparent disinterest, her painted red nails clicking against the metal clasp of her Coach purse. The little boy, whose raven hair was currently being mussed by the caring old instructor, glanced up at his mother, dark eyes wide and hopeful. His teeth worried at his bottom lip as he studied the cold woman who gave birth to him.

"Oh, of course! How could you not?" The elder woman replied with a laugh, flicking her wrist in a manner meant to dismiss her comment. Her kind eyes crinkled, crows feet appearing at the corners as she smiled down at the young prodigy before her.

The younger woman let out a noncommittal sound, glancing at the heavy gold watch resting on her slim, delicate wrist. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she looked up and ran a slim hand through her long locks, the same raven hue as the child's. "Jungkook! Stop biting your lip right now! It is not becoming," she hissed at her son, her grey eyes sharp and narrow. The small child immediately did what was instructed, his large eyes turned once more to the ground. "We must be going, now. Thank you, for. . . The update," Mrs. Jeon stated coldly, in a businesslike tone that thinly concealed her snark. Grabbing the boy's wrist with her manicured hand, she sauntered out of the building with a flourish, dragging her son behind her.

• • •

"Mommy, will you tuck me in?" The small boy asked, taking small steps as he approached the woman on the couch. At the sound of her son's voice, she looked up, adjusting her silk robe and setting the newspaper aside with a huff. She arched a makeup defined brow, her cold, dark eyes lined with black.

"No, Jungkook. I will not," she replied, her tone cool and harsh. The child visibly wilted at her tone, dark brown eyes turning to the polished floorboards of the living room. Sighing, the mother returned her heavy gaze back to the paper, dismissing Jungkook with the action.

The little boy did not leave though, instead, he surprised the classy woman by speaking up once more. "Will you read me a story then, eomma?" His high, youthful voice a stark contrast to his modern, mature surroundings.

The woman blinked, her face displaying her shock before she closed it off, her expression cold. "Jungkook, the only story you should be reading is the news," she answered casually, grabbing the newspaper she had abandoned, rolling it up and tapping the child's head with it. "It's never too early to start thinking about the family business!"

The child's wide eyes closed briefly, as he schooled his face into an expressionless mask, a skill he'd mastered at the young age of five. "Of course, my bad mommy," he whispered, his young voice as cool and collected as a young child's could be. With an almost imperceptible down-turn of the corner of his mouth, the small child turned away and slowly climbed up the stairs, as his mother simply unfurled the newspaper and kept reading, paying her son no heed.

• • •

The little boy sat on the white leather couch, legs crossed and hands folded delicately in his lap. Instead of relaxing on the cushions, his spine was ramrod straight, and he kept as still as a statue, his gaze on the large television in front of him. Some children's movie was playing, but he wasn't interested. Until there came a scene where the mother tucked the little boy in, and told him that she loved him. His eyes widened and his head snapped in the direction of the woman with the same hair and nose, on the other side of the living room. Her sleek raven locks were swept up into a loose yet chic bun, and her eyes were fixed on the business reports in front of her.