A Taste of Sugar : 김남준 ✔️

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"Why did I do this to myself?"

Jimin rolled his eyes. This was not the first time today that you'd said that very phrase. Nor the second. Not even the third. In fact, he'd lost count, given the whole day of panicked complaint you had inflicted on him. "It's really not that bad."

How many times had he said that now? Too many. You whirled on him, pausing in applying your makeup in lieu of throwing your arms in the air dramatically. "How can you say that?! I have to sleep with some random guy!"

"People do it all the time. Even teenagers. One night stands are a thing." He sighed, leaning against the doorframe and looking at his nails. "And they don't even get paid. You're overreacting."

"But it's- this isn't what I took this job for... I never wanted to-" you grunted, struggling to put it in words, "This was never part of the deal- I'm so stupid- I never wanted to be this-" you cut off, suddenly, looking at him as he pulled a face. Guilt pooled in your stomach. "I didn't mean-"

"It's okay." He gave a wry smile, hurt, but able to forgive your thoughtless comment because it was you. "I know. And I know it's a hard line to cross." Jimin moved closer to you, laying his hands on your upper arms. "You can back out, you know."

You met his gaze for a little while, before looking down, knitting your brow and sighing, that same stubbornness surging in your stomach. "No. No, I can't."

He watched your face for a moment longer, then groaned aloud, letting go of you and stepping back. "Are you really going to do this just to get at him? When you could just tell him and save yourself the trouble?"

Your jaw set, a scowl coming onto your features as you turned back to the mirror to finish your make up. Your tone was obstinate. "That's not it."

"Then what?" You pressed your lips together, refusing to answer. You could see his eyebrows raise in the reflection from the glass. Seeming to realise you weren't going to reply, he sighed. "Y/N..."

"Just-... just leave it. Okay?" In truth, you weren't sure why you were so set on doing this. Perhaps, biting your nose to spite your face? Doing something under the delusion it would bother your boss even though really it was only your own sacrifice?

Or maybe to prove that you would be okay with anyone? That you didn't feel anything more than lust for this enigmatic man who had shown no interest in anything other than your body.

You calmed down some in the car on the way to the hotel. It comforted you some that it was a more upper-class affair, rather than some seedy back street motel like you had always pictured whenever thinking about prostitution. Which was what this was, really. What you would be, if- when- you went through with this. A prostitute.

That word seemed to rattle in your brain some, but you brushed it off, breathing a soft sigh. It was just sex. Probably like an hour in that room with this man and then you never had to think about it ever again.  Fixing your gaze out of the window, you lost yourself in your thoughts, watching the city roll by.

It was evening, so the lobby of the hotel was empty, save the bellboy and receptionist. You couldn't help feeling like they both knew why you were here, and were judging you for it. You were given a cardkey and directed to the elevator, and took your time in there as an opportunity to breathe through the nerves. You still couldn't quite believe you were going to go through with this. Squeezing your purse with cold fingers, you walked quickly through the hall of the third floor to locate the room.

The man that awaited you was- thankfully- fairly young, perhaps in his thirties. He wasn't especially good looking- to put it lightly- with a pallor befitting someone who probably didn't get out much, but it wasn't your business to know who he was. The single serving bottle of chardonnay you had consumed discreetly in the car helped you to switch off your brain, letting him kiss you without the unnecessary exchange of pleasantries.