Boy By The Sea • taekook

Twenty Two

The streets of downtown LA are buzzing with energy at night. The drizzling rain of the day has finally ceased, and the puddles of water on the asphalt reflect the kaleidoscopic lights of the street - bars, restaurants, headlights of cars zooming by, like vibrant art that splashes and swirls about with a life of its own.

Jeongguk parks his car and walks, dodging pass scattered groups of youth clamouring and rushing to the next hot spot. He left his black hoodie in the car, just a plain white tee and blue jeans he wore for the flight. The air is balmy and comfortable, another lovely west coast fall evening. He inhales deeply, trying hard to reign in the scattered thoughts on his mind.

It was a miserable week in New York again, locked up in the office with Yoon and the team, making calls and running through different approaches to clear a path for new investments. Another company on their investment list has declared bankruptcy, and the clients grow irritated at the constant change in strategy. In a market with no foreseeable upswing, their struggle feels futile sometimes, like looping in a circle and not going anywhere.

Yoon calls the lobbyists almost daily now, placing all his hopes onto passing of the confidentiality bill for small investment firms. Together, the lobbyist team of his has narrowed down to working exclusively on a handful of senators. The calls always make Jeongguk flinch, as he excuses himself away from eavesdropping range.

They bicker constantly now. The usual tricks - iced Americano from Yoon's favourite shop, a sweet text from Namjoon - have lost their appeal, and only earn a stiff nod in return. Jeongguk gets it - this business means so much to Yoon, and the thought of possibly losing it all frightens him. Yoon is looking for that magic bullet, that one act that could turn the whole situation around.

Just one more step, just push a little harder, and they'll reach the turning point, where things will be back in their favor.

But will they?

Dread looms in Jeongguk's heart, like tendrils of smoke that linger yet cannot be grasped. Something is off. All his life, he's been trying to do the right thing - the best education, the loyal friend, providing for his parents, finding love in the right places... Forever chasing after goals, never stopping to pause and think. He's too afraid to face the fact that maybe, somewhere along the line, he's lost something - himself, a dream, an identity, he can't quite put his fingers on it. Yet it gnaws at his heart incessantly, the fear that something is terribly wrong. And it's all too late.

He's too far gone to fix it.

Jeongguk shrugs, too worn out to figure it out. Another day maybe. Right now, there's only one person on his mind - that dazzling smile reserved just him, the sparkle that lights up his eyes the moment their gaze locks, and the warmth of those long slender fingers curling around his arm.

Taehyung is a drug, numbing the pain and blissfully dulling the mind. And Jeongguk is addicted, craving for another hit, itching at the mere thought of it as he walks towards the destination. Maybe this will be a small event and they can just duck out inconspicuously, the thought of cuddling up in bed in the peace and quiet of home loosens up his muscles.

The entrance to the bar is in a back alley, faintly illuminated by an industrial overhead lamp. The nameplate is small, right next to the glass door blocking out the clamour on the inside. Engraved in bronze, the font is simple but eye catching - Sub Rosa.

There's a long line, consisting of mostly girls laughing and waiting eagerly in skimpy outfits. A bouncer stands by the door, looking stiff and bored.

"I'm here for Kim Taehyung, the performer?" Jeongguk steps up and inquires.

"The line starts over there." The bouncer glares and signals down the alley.

Jeongguk walks to the back of the line and texts to Taehyung. He waits, for the response that never comes.