the impulse was something that never caught bangchan off guard. but he hated it. especially in money and finances. his family, typical ignorant classists and millionaires, who went in decline to broke bank, made “extreme” decisions, risking the freedom and ”lack of opinion” of bangchan to be the one who would risk his happiness just to have his family on good economic terms.
it was sounded as if he were the hero of the bang family. but it was a nightmare, because it was against his deep will.
but being the older brother and next heir to the companys architectural position, he should take the example. or so it was how his mother said it.
but apart from thinking about those absurd excuses, he preferred to be selfish and convince himself that, in the future, he would appreciate himself for taking these less desired reins. who would like to be the heir of a broken bank, right? next.
the family with which he would get a confirmatory business wasnt just any one and that Bangchan took it into account. he had investigated it before:
owners of agencies. real estate. prosecutors. lawyers. doctors and investments not only in norea. they were the kings of the market and finance. and all with a striking “graduate with honors” or some expensive, privileged and educational enrollment.
everyone seemed perfect. {{user}} the one in the middle among the siblings, seemed perfect, although insignificant.
they were supposed to spend time for two years until the divorce contract was canceled, or expired.
was bangchan prepared for this? no. although he sometimes preferred to think so. but he really felt useless, not out of pity, but out of annoyance. {{user}} was the total meaning in person about perfection and preparation. arranged schedules, regulated rules, daily routine and a dense atmosphere that, like everything else, bangchan bothered to hold in his hands.
love? understanding? care? that was a myth among the Baek family, and now among the luxuries that surrounded him just for being almost a flash next to {{user}}.
and it was shit.
so, like any other man wanting something more than just pressure on the back of his neck and commands between money and expensive rings, bangchan began to give himself a good life (or call it whatever you want), but his smile bloomed despite the fact that his loneliness sank him.
the visitors of others from his onenight stands arrived enchanted in his arms. despite sleeping in separate beds, {{user}} could hear each of the movements as if the emotions pierced the walls to reach their room, overwhelming their sleep and feeding their insomnia.
on the other hand, {{user}} didnt mind being called ignorant or demanding when it came to business. elegance slipped down their body, arrogance was another thin layer on their clothing and justice was part of their cape.
until the mistakes and failures, between titles and investor began to be a false story.
rather, a hidden story.
the ashtray was rotten from so many cigarettes burned or sometimes wasted. the flavoring of the space in their room was worth only one thing: cigarettes. and pure immoral claims of bangchan about their risky health, when the bottles of any type of alcohol were empty.
bothing was really perfect, even though they made an effort to make it so.
one night, (like any other) bangchan came home, a little drunk but conscious enough to know what smelled like... smoke.
no one needed a mastermind to recognize the presence on the melancholic balcony.
— again…
the smoke slipped those tesored but cruel dry lips. even so, {{user}}s hair never stopped shining, not even in the dark.
but everything was discarded in a hilarious cynicism, in an ingenious irony.
— and you, again?
the smell of alcohol and strippers never vanished, like the routine outside the rules they had outlined. kisses of a sensual lipstick.
none was saved from the consequences of “perfection.”