remember me | kth

quatre

; le désir, longing
—

— AS IT TURNED out, it was Taehyung who regretted accepting the job.

August's peak had arrived, bringing with it the hottest summer the town had experienced in years. Your father had meant it when he said Taehyung was to stay far away from the kitchen - and the air conditioning as a result - instead ordering him to do all the literal heavy lifting he was apparently too old (or self righteous, Taehyung considered) to do himself. Leon, the bakeries supplier, came twice a week, bringing with him crates of flour and obscene amounts of chocolate chips and apple slices for Taehyung to unload and keep track of in a leather bound note book. He had voiced the idea of perhaps getting a laptop or tablet to make the job more efficient, only to be shut down with a harsh no from your father. He preferred to do things traditionally, he said.

Leon arrived late, setting Taehyung behind on his schedule by fifteen minutes he could not afford to waste; after all, he was already slower on his feet due to his wounded thigh. Taehyung watched with a sigh as Leon disappeared into the distance on his bicycle, pulling an empty cart back to the market. The stock seemed to be larger in quantity that day and sweat laced Taehyung's furrowed brow before he had even attempted to begin shifting it bit by bit into the stock room.

Though, the hot stare of your father watching as he scratched his head in thought did not help his predicament. Taehyung's back was to the door of the kitchen but he knew he was there, keeping a careful eye over him as he worked. He was still an outsider in this town, his employment at the bakery quickly becoming a topic of gossip among the people and apparently fueling your fathers inherent distrust of him. So far, Taehyung had proved himself as a good worker albeit a slow one, so your fathers reasons for continuing to stand with his arms crossed across his chest like a lion protecting its cubs was beyond him.

"You just gonna stand there, kid?" His sharp voice rang out, drawing Taehyung from his inner debate with a jolt. As if reading his mind, he added: "Start with the flour, y/n's running short."

Taehyung swallowed loudly, nervous under the scrutinizing presence. He had discarded his cane a week or two ago, able to limp where he desired now. It was progress, he figured. The black boots he had borrowed dragged across the cobbles as he approached the stack of flour sacks that almost towered over him in height.

They were heavy, he knew that from experience and he was practically winded just by lifting the sack at the top of the pile. The veins in Taehyung's neck bulged as he struggled to keep his balance under the hefty weight. He felt his biceps begin to ache, opting to press a knee to the underside of the flour in an attempt to distribute the mass only to find himself balancing on his weakened leg, a sharp pain shooting through his thigh. The pain was sudden, eliciting an agonizing gasp and causing his grip on the sack to loosen substantially. Before he knew it he was stumbling forward, letting go of the flour all together in favor of breaking his fall with his hands. There was nothing he could do at that point, watching with wide eyes as the sack hit the ground, splitting and spilling onto the concrete beneath before he landed a top of it himself in a cloud of white.

The powder stung his eyes and tickled his throat, coughs wracking his frame as the flour irritated his lungs. Taehyung staggered to his knees, ignoring the way his thigh still protested, attempting to scoop the flour back into the sack to no avail. He sank back against his heels, finally accepting there was nothing he could do to salvage the ingredients, dragging his palms down his face in defeat.

A click of the tongue sounded behind him and Taehyung's neck snapped towards the source, eyes immediately meeting your fathers own disappointed irises. His head shook side to side as he took in the sight before him. Taehyung noticed the way his jaw tightened in dismay, probably calculating the exact amount of money he would be removing from his paycheck before he simply disappeared back into the kitchen without a word.