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He lingers at school with his friends for as long as he can. Everyone has work or other obligations tonight that no amount of food-based bribery seems to be able to persuade them to abandon. It means that coming home is a miserable thing. The apartment is a shell when it's just him, a Le Corbusier machine for living without any soul. Seokjin comes home and sets his keys aside, gravitates to the exact same spot on the couch he always does. Without his friends, it all seems a little shabby, even though the couch is brand new. His father may despair of him but he still won't have Seokjin stoop to used furniture.
It's on his mind more than ever tonight because he knows that any moment now his phone will light up. Seokjin isn't sure how his father manages it–he suspects one of the teachers is reporting on him–but every time there's an important exam or due date in school, an email from his father appears shortly after. It's nearing the end of the month too, which means he's expected to report back on his month, telling his father that he's been a dutiful second son. He has, of course, achieved good grades and done nothing to make trouble or draw attention to himself, much less his family.
In exchange for sending in testimony to his upright behavior like a questionable intern, his father will send that month's allowance. It will cover his rent, his bills, his car, and all the petty luxuries someone his age is expected to enjoy. Except that he doesn't. Most of the money gets spent on food. His friends have never asked how it is that he can constantly afford to 'mix up' the measurements and proportions of dishes so that he 'accidentally' cooks enough to feed six other people. Probably they have some inclination but Seokjin is pretty sure most of them have no idea the extent of his money. He prefers it that way.
Not once in his life has Seokjin done a thing to deserve that money. He has no head for business, lacks the temperament for hard negotiations, and is pretty sure his father wrote him off as a total loss before he left primary school. No matter how much he studies abroad or scores perfectly on his tests, Seokjin will never be a worthwhile heir to his company. He will never equal his brother. He will never put on smart ties and attend Christmas parties with his parents and brother. He will do what's best for the reputation of the company, which is not make trouble.
Sitting on the couch, Seokjin zones out, looking at nothing in particular. The shadows through his window seem to creep longer and longer as the sun begins to set. It must be nearly dinner time, which seems unpleasant to think about, because it means he's wasted so much time sitting here, doing nothing. Seokjin closes his eyes and lets his head drop back against the edge of the couch. Just a second, just one second, and he'll get up.
More than a second passes but eventually, Jin sits up and sighs out, leaning against his knees. His phone lights up with a message from his father but, somehow, the room doesn't seem as dark as it did a second ago. Checking the time, it's not even that late.
It's on his mind more than ever tonight because he knows that any moment now his phone will light up. Seokjin isn't sure how his father manages it–he suspects one of the teachers is reporting on him–but every time there's an important exam or due date in school, an email from his father appears shortly after. It's nearing the end of the month too, which means he's expected to report back on his month, telling his father that he's been a dutiful second son. He has, of course, achieved good grades and done nothing to make trouble or draw attention to himself, much less his family.
In exchange for sending in testimony to his upright behavior like a questionable intern, his father will send that month's allowance. It will cover his rent, his bills, his car, and all the petty luxuries someone his age is expected to enjoy. Except that he doesn't. Most of the money gets spent on food. His friends have never asked how it is that he can constantly afford to 'mix up' the measurements and proportions of dishes so that he 'accidentally' cooks enough to feed six other people. Probably they have some inclination but Seokjin is pretty sure most of them have no idea the extent of his money. He prefers it that way.
Not once in his life has Seokjin done a thing to deserve that money. He has no head for business, lacks the temperament for hard negotiations, and is pretty sure his father wrote him off as a total loss before he left primary school. No matter how much he studies abroad or scores perfectly on his tests, Seokjin will never be a worthwhile heir to his company. He will never equal his brother. He will never put on smart ties and attend Christmas parties with his parents and brother. He will do what's best for the reputation of the company, which is not make trouble.
Sitting on the couch, Seokjin zones out, looking at nothing in particular. The shadows through his window seem to creep longer and longer as the sun begins to set. It must be nearly dinner time, which seems unpleasant to think about, because it means he's wasted so much time sitting here, doing nothing. Seokjin closes his eyes and lets his head drop back against the edge of the couch. Just a second, just one second, and he'll get up.
More than a second passes but eventually, Jin sits up and sighs out, leaning against his knees. His phone lights up with a message from his father but, somehow, the room doesn't seem as dark as it did a second ago. Checking the time, it's not even that late.
