delicate || jumin x v
for mystictober day 5 -- jumin's birthday // rain
summary: on his birthday, he waits for the one person that never comes, though he always hopes that he will.
notes: i can't write about jumin until he's a kicked wet cat over jihyun. #MYdoomedyaoi
word count: 815
He's late.
Jumin glances at his wristwatch. Once, then twice. Then a third time for good measure.
Jihyun had promised he'd come. Or, at least, try to. His messages were hurried yet polite, in the way that he always is. He said some things came up, but he'd be there. That he would do everything he could to make it.
Is it Jumin's fault for believing him?
They'd agreed to meet at this lobster place. Jumin isn't particular on seafood, but he knows Jihyun is. It's got one of the better selections of wine in this part of Seoul, and he's already had sips of a pinot noir, notes of bitterness and grape traced from Burgundy itself, though he knows how Jihyun loves his champagne. He's ordered a bottle of that, too, and the bottle waits patiently on the table, alongside their supposed-shared meal.
Lobster, caviar as a side dish, freshly cooked salmon. It's gone a little cold now from how long he's waited -- thirty minutes, forty-five?
It's almost an hour before Jumin decides to call him. His hands tremble when he finds Jihyun's contact number, and the call rings for what feels like forever. Then, voicemail.
Hello, this is V. I'm sorry, I must be away at the time of receiving this call. Please do leave a message.
The beep follows. Jumin straightens his back.
"Hello, Jihyun. I was wondering... well. I was wondering where you are at the moment. The wine here is quite delicious, and perfect paired with the lobster that's being served." He looks around, tapping his fingers on the table.
"I do believe it would be even better when shared with a friend, don't you think?" He says, eventually, after a breath. "You would enjoy it. The atmosphere, the food, the wine. Where... where are you?"
Jumin coughs, then. He's not sure what's wrong with him -- or why his stomach churns the more he speaks. Could there be something wrong with the food?
"Anyways. I apologize if I'm acting rather strange. I just... I do hope you can make it. If not, well, do let me know. I don't mind."
He ends the call after, letting the phone settle in his hand. He glances at the time again -- on his phone, this time -- and sees how the clock almost shifts to 8pm.
They'd agreed to meet at 6. His last message was at 6:45.
Jumin sighs, sharply. He grabs his fork and knife -- and he decides to dig in.
He devours the entire meal, finishes almost the entire bottle of pinot noir -- he almost did the same for the bottle of champagne, but his stomach couldn't handle it anymore -- then asks for the bill.
When Jumin excuses himself to the bathroom, he wobbles a bit on the way there, but he manages to maintain his composure. The cool gush of water spills through his hands, splitting through his thoughts. He fights with himself, for his logic and for his stoicism, through the way his chest aches, almost filling up his lungs.
Jumin wonders if this is a heart attack. He moves his arms -- they're just fine. He looks in the mirror and sees his face -- flushed with red and heavy, then he sighs.
He doesn't know why he feels this way. He isn't entitled to disappointment, but he still is. Is there a universe where Jihyun would arrive on time? Or even arrive at all?
Jumin adjusts his sleeves, his suit. Tightens his tie. Then he walks out, his head held up high.
He knows the answer to that. He just chooses not to acknowledge it.
The bill is eventually paid for, his coat is retrieved. He calls for Driver Kim and he arrives immediately, the smooth entrance of their SUV pulling into the drive way. The sky is overcast -- clouds dampening the air with promises of downpour. Not that Jumin cares, anyway.
The door is opened for him and he enters swiftly, quiet. Driver Kim starts to drive, pulling out of the parking lot, and Jumin lets his mind sink into nothingness, blending out all thought, all the hurt, all the heartbreak.
Just as they enter back into the highway, the rain brings it's first droplets onto the windows of the SUV, trickling down in slow, exaggerated patterns. Jumin watches its rhythm, creating a kaleidoscope of light in this endless metropolis, where nobody ever sleeps, and where dreams come to fruition.
All except his.
"Ah, Mr. Han," Driver Kim chuckles, rolling down the partition to look at him. "I forgot to wish you a happy birthday today, sir. I trust you had a good one?"
Jumin looks at him pointedly, arms crossed as he leans against the window.
"Thank you." He nods, trying to ignore the way everything inside him unravels with the ferocity of the storm that brews outside. "Yes. My birthday was very well celebrated."