Chapter Text
If there’s one thing that Kim Seokjin is known for, besides his cooking, it’s his temper. Articles are written about him; interviews and shows he appeared on always have someone joking about the rumors running around, saying that he lashed out easily at his personnel.
Seokjin has always ignored the comments; laughed at the ones that try to portray him as a ruthless kitchen tyrant and always uses his charm to swing the conversation somewhere else. If anything, Seokjin is passionate. And talented, and original, and brilliant, and skilled, and professional… then again, he is a bit hot-headed, but nearly not as much as people think. (There’s to say if he ever finds whoever got fired from his restaurant and started the rumors he won't spare them .)
He turns off the TV just as himself from a week ago starts explaining to the show host how to prepare a perfect and soft Caprese cake, one of his favorite recipes. He leans back on his couch with a smile on his face.
So there are the rumors and the comments, but there are also the praises and the excellent reviews, and the Michelin star that he so proudly displays in front of his restaurant. There’s no doubt: Kim Seokjin is as good as they come, a gifted chef of only 28 year old that managed to build a successful restaurant in just a couple of years.
Is he at his highest point? Definitely not, Seokjin knows there is always room for improvement. Sure, he doesn’t have much to improve on, but he still isn’t completely satisfied with himself. His mother reprimands him for not staying humble and bragging too much, but then again, she’s also the one who always told him he was the best son in the world, so what’s the truth?
His phone rings and a cheerful tune spreads across the living room.
Seokjin reluctantly picks up after checking the caller ID, not because he doesn’t like the person on the other side of the line, but because said person tends to call on Sunday mornings only when there’s something wrong. “Yes?”
“So, I might have found someone to help out. He doesn’t have a super long CV, but I think he’s capable enough.” Yoongi’s voice sounds tired, although there’s to say Yoongi is tired most of the time. "Comes with good references."
Min Yoongi – partner in crime, partner in business– is Kim Seokjin’s second in command when it comes to the restaurant; he’s part owner and manager for the front of the house staff. Also his longest friend to date.
“If it’s another one of those that don’t know what proper carbonara is, I swear–”
“He knows. But he’s also young. Just– he’s coming next Wednesday for a tryout, that ok?”
Seokjin sighs, knowing that there is no arguing with Yoongi on this. They do need new staff, after last month. He doesn’t like thinking about it but a waiter and a cook yelling profanities at him are not exactly hard to forget, especially when they claim he’s “being a dictator”. Which he isn’t. They just couldn’t handle the pressure of a respectable restaurant like La Rondine.
“Yeah, have him come before opening time.”
“Way ahead of ya’.”
Seokjin closes the call with a smirk, Yoongi’s now subtle Daegu accent reminding him of when it was stronger during their university years. Anyone who knew Seokjin and Yoongi in University would never have thought they would have ended up opening a restaurant together, but here they are, co-owning one of the most successful fusion restaurants in the whole of Seoul.
People often tell him he is living his best life, but Seokjin never settles for the best.
---
Monday starts out nicely and everyone seems to be doing good, despite the staff shortage. Seokjin can’t help but be proud of his team, the few faithful ones that have been with him from the beginning. There are his trusted sous chefs Heeyeon and Jaehwan; Byulyi is an excellent chef de partie – she’s mostly in charge of the appetizers and the fish, and always does an incredible job; Junghwan never disappoints with his desserts. And, of course, Yoongi always does his best with managing the waiting staff, so, when things run smoothly for the first hours, Seokjin isn’t surprised.
It’s when Heeyeon passes out in the middle of her break that his mood drops. Suddenly he has to call Jaehwan to take up her shift, but he’s visiting some relatives in the countryside and wouldn’t make it back before late evening. Before he knows it, Seokjin finds himself doing Heeyeon’s job (together with being worried for her wellbeing). Then, a cook drops two finished dishes on the floor, right after the ambulance has left, and Seokjin’s temper starts faltering. He’s sure a bunch of tables have now been waiting way too long for their orders, and Yoongi starts peeking in the kitchen more and more, checking in on the holdups. Seokjin wants to scream when one of the waiters brings back a plate of pasta because the patron claimed it was too salty.
Luckily he manages, despite the chaos and the few dishes he had to send out on the house (including apologies from the chef). The day goes on and Seokjin manages the rest well. The restaurant might not have had a perfect day, but he did his best to maintain high standards; he decides to believe Yoongi’s reassuring words when, after locking the entrance, he tells Seokjin that no one left unpleased.
That night, despite everything, sleep takes him almost immediately.
---
It starts less than a week after.
First, comes a vague text from his brother, asking if everything is all right with the restaurant. Seokjin replies that yeah, everything is going fine, why?
Second, another text right as he’s about to go to bed, this time from his friend Jimin telling him to check the internet as soon as possible, but he doesn’t mind it much attention since he needs his beauty sleep.
Then, a wake-up call from Byulyi (which does not put him in a good mood, considering he has another thirty minutes before his alarm will go off) asking if he has opened his twitter at all. Seokjin mumbles that no, he rarely checks it anyway, what the hell is going on.
“I feel like Yoongi should tell you this, he might be better at it–” Byulyi sighs.
“Just tell me what is it, Byul.”
“Okay, so you know Lunch Randa? The online food blogger?”
“Lunch who? Please tell me that’s not his actual name.” Seokjin frowns, not understanding why he’s having this conversation so early in the day.
“It’s just a pseudonym, people don’t really know who he is.” Byul sounds almost worried, so by default Seokjin gets worried.
“Wow, poor guy.” Sarcasm paints his words as he leans back into his pillow. “Why did you call me at five in the morning to tell me this?”
“Well… he visited La Rondine, apparently…”
“… And?” He just wishes she’d get a move on with whatever she wants to tell him.
“He wrote… a review.”
“All good, I assume?” Ah, now he gets it. Although he still doesn’t understand her urge to wake him up before his alarm could. “Was he astounded by the décor and enchanted by the delicate tastes of our dishes?” He accentuates words here and there in an attempt to mimic the tone generally used by food critics in the reviews they write about him and his place. Not that he doesn’t appreciate them, if anything he’s very thankful– in two years of activity business has only been good.
“…not exactly. You should see for yourself.”
Seokjin sits up straight in his bed and concern starts to stain his already raspy morning voice. “Byul, you don’t sound happy. Why don’t you sound happy? Is it bad?”
“It isn’t bad— listen, I’ll send you a link to his website. Gotta go, Youngsun woke up. See you at work!”
“Byul, wait—”
Before he can add anything else, she hangs up and Seokjin is left with a silent phone and a bad feeling in his stomach. Sure the review can’t be that horrible; no one ever gives his restaurant a bad review. And besides, they very rarely have complaints and the house is always full: clearly, the restaurant is doing good. Sighing, he drags himself out of bed and goes to the kitchen to make himself coffee. If he’s going to receive bad news, he might as well do it caffeinated.
---
Coffee doesn’t help contain his anger. He should have known, if anything, it makes it stronger.
“What the fuck is this?” He exclaims to the air, although his microphone definitely picks up the shrill of his voice.
“It’s a review, Seokjin. You sometimes get those when you own a food establishment.” Yoongi’s snarky remark replies from the speaker while Seokjin’s eyes scroll through the page on his computer screen.
He reads out loud with rage prickling at his throat. “The ambient promised a classy and original experience, although the food didn’t maintain it. The appetizer was good enough to leave me wanting more, but the pasta dish I ordered (what sounded like a refined plate of Mushroom Tagliatelle) revealed itself to be overcooked and overseasoned. It was definitely Mushyroom Tagliatelle?!” Seokjin almost yells the last bit as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Bet he wouldn’t recognize good food if it fucked him up the ass––”
“Good morning to you too...”
“—I won’t allow him to just piss on my hard work like this!” He takes a deep breath before reading the next bit. “The bread was fresh, and the wine would have been well paired with the meat hadn’t the latter been cold? Who the fuck served him cold meat? I’m firing the shit out of them.”
“Jin, you need to calm down. It’s your first bad review and it isn’t even that bad! How you gonna react to worse ones?” Yoongi sounds as calm as Seokjin is irritated. Which, by default, irritates him more. It isn’t just the review itself. It’s the online articles, the tweets about it, the comments saying that the review is right, that Lunch Randa knows what he’s talking about. Seokjin thinks that if he reads the word pretentious one more time he’ll– he’ll–– he doesn’t know, but he’ll do something. Like, he’ll scream in a pillow for sure.
“There won’t be worse ones. I’m suing this guy.”
“That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?” Yoongi laughs, even though Seokjin is deadly serious. “Listen to me: tweet him an apology and invite him to try your food again, I’m sure he’ll realize he just came during a bad day.”
“A bad day? We’re not supposed to have bad days—”
“Every business has bad days, Jin. Remember when that Australian guy got drunk and started smashing glasses on the floor?”
“We don’t talk about that.”
“Exactly.” Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I know you’re proud of the restaurant, but there’s no reason to let this guy get to you. He could be lying for all you know.” That somehow makes Seokjin feel slightly better. “He’s not that famous anyway.”
Nevermind. “Exactly how famous is he?”
“Uhm, I guess he’s got a million followers or somet–”
“That’s fucking famous, Yoongi.”
“No press is bad press, Seokjin.”
Bad press is bad press, is what Seokjin thinks, but he just leaves Yoongi with a whatever and the promise of meeting at the restaurant.
Someone might call him dramatic, but in Seokjin’s books Lunch Randa (he can’t explain how someone with that name has a million of followers) has just declared war.
---
As if everyone knows that it isn’t a good day for Head Chef Kim Seokjin, the air at the restaurant is quieter and busier than ever. Everyone seems to be on edge, but Seokjin doesn’t mind if it means that the staff is doing their best to make things run smoothly. Or to not anger him. Either way, he’s so focused on prepping for the day, that when Yoongi walks in with a way taller man following him, he doesn’t realize the boy isn’t someone he knows.
“Jin, this is Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook, this is–”
“Kim Seokjin-ssi, it’s an honor.” The boy bows and his voice is softer than what Seokjin would expect from someone his build.
Seokjin grabs Jungkook’s extended hand and bows in return. “Nice to meet you. Why are you introducing us?” The question is for Yoongi, which basically scolds him with a stare.
“It’s Wednesday, hyung. Jungkook’s tryout, remember?”
“Oh—god, yes, forgive me.” He returns his gaze to the boy, whose eyes seem to be wide open in expectation, although strangely intimidating at the same time. “Well, what do you feel most confident in preparing, Jungkook?”
The boy doesn’t hesitate before replying. “Anything, chef.”
Seokjin looks at Yoongi with big eyes and raised eyebrows, to which his friend replies with a small nod. Then he turns to the boy, smirking. “Jungkook is well experienced both in Korean and Italian cuisine. I sent you his resume, remember?”
He doesn’t, because he has barely looked through his emails recently, and even though in any other situation he would have analyzed every single word of a possible employee CV, he doesn’t have it in him to send the boy away, so he trusts Yoongi’s decision to bring him to the restaurant. Seokjin is slightly disappointed in his own behavior, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.
“Oh yeah, sure, sure.” He waves his hand, then gestures to Jungkook. “Okay, good. Well then, how you feel about a simple frittata?”
Jungkook seems surprised by the request, but then eagerly nods. “Sure!”
Seokjin is amused by the boy’s confidence at the beginning, and is also waiting for him to make any sort of mistake or slip up. Jungkook cracks the eggs in a slick simple motion, seems sure in the amount of seasoning to add. Seokjin follows his movements carefully, he doesn’t let one single thing go unnoticed, and Jungkook seems to do everything perfectly, exactly as he would do it. As the boy pours the mixture into the pan, Seokjin turns to Yoongi, a proud smile on his friend’s face.
“Told ya.”
“Not so fast.”
As Seokjin looks back to Jungkook’s cooking, he observes the boy carefully swaying the pan and then flipping the frittata in one go. Yoongi can’t hold back a whispered showoff that makes Seokjin smile. When Jungkook serves the dish, Seokjin notices he has added rosemary and chives to the mix and gives a nod of approval. Then he looks up at the boy on the other side of the counter.
“You didn’t add parmesan.”
“I put pecorino, chef,” Jungkook replies as if he was expecting Seokjin to say that.
Seokjin tries not to give away too much, but he is impressed by this boy and how quickly he has managed to prepare a beautiful looking frittata. He looks at Yoongi, who passes him a knife and a fork, and without hesitation cuts the frittata in half. The thickness is good, the color is good, and the smell makes Seokjin’s stomach remember he has skipped breakfast– an unusual thing for Kim Seokjin, but he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. And the internet, according to the replies on his last tweet.
When Seokjin cuts a piece and put it in his mouth, Yoongi seems more worried than Jungkook. Seokjin somehow appreciates that too, he can tell the boy cares but still wants to remain professional. Everyone else in the room seems to have stopped whatever they were doing to watch Seokjin make his decision as he swallows the frittata and looks at the dish once more.
“Next time, careful on the pepper.” He states, although he’s come to that conclusion just because he felt like he had to nitpick it. In reality, to Seokjin’s taste, the frittata is pretty much impeccable. But he doesn’t like to throw big words out there often, so he just nods, puts the cutlery down on the counter, and gives his verdict.
“Other than that, you can start tomorrow.”
Jungkook’s calm façade drops and he turns ecstatic. “Thank you so much, chef,” He smiles brightly and bows; from the corner of his eye Seokjin can see Yoongi giving the boy a thumbs up. “I won’t disappoint—”
“For the week.” Seokjin interrupts, trying not to seem too icy. “We’ll see how you do after that. Be here at eight in the morning, not a minute later. Jaehwan will induct you to the main things.” He softens a bit. “Welcome to La Rondine.”
Once back home from yet another long day, Seokjin opens Yoongi’s email – Subject: Read this BEFORE Wednesday, thank you. Body: Here’s the resume of the boy I told you about. I think he’d be a good fit. PS. Can you send me that picture from last summer of Jimin wearing speedos, he swears it never happened. We all know he’s wrong—, reads through Jeon Jungkook’s resume (aged 22, originally from Busan, hobbies include: dancing, gaming, rock climbing) and with relief realizes that Yoongi’s instincts were right. He is promising.
---
When the alarm goes off, Seokjin had just been dreaming about having dinner at his grandma’s house and eating her delicious haemul pajeon. The pajeon was purple and her grandma owned a pet platypus, but Seokjin is content nonetheless. That’s, of course, until he is jostled awake by a blaring noise.
His phone is laying on his nightstand and when he realizes that the noise is not coming from there, he finally feels like maybe he should get out of bed and figure out what’s going on.
When Seokjin finds himself in front of the apartment two doors down from his, he is somewhat awake but mostly pissed off. The rational part of him is saying that maybe the person inside is in danger and he shouldn’t take out his anger on them, but well– listening to the rational part of your brain when you’ve been woken up at four am isn’t that easy. And the old rich lady living next to him seems to be in the same mood as she violently knocks on the door in her expensive nightgown.
“I- just a second!” A voice calls from the inside, and Seokjin feels a tiny bit relieved that at least no one is dead. Well, that he knows of.
“Oh, Seokjin, dear, thank god you’re here.” The lady looks up at him with relief. “This guy moved a couple of days ago and is already creating chaos! I can’t believe this–”
“I’ll deal with it, Mrs Kang, you should go back to bed.” He flashes his best smile to the angry lady, which immediately softens her harsh features. She’s always liked him a lot.
Mrs Kang waves him goodnight, even though she doesn’t hold back one last glare to the locked door. The alarm has stopped now, but Seokjin knocks again anyway.
“Everything okay in there?”
Before he’s got a chance to knock again, the door opens and he finds himself in front of one of the cutest guys he’s ever seen, but the smoke coming from behind him kind of gives the situation a more pressing tone. The man’s distressed face and hair- is that a burned shirt sleeve on him? – tell a story that Seokjin has no patience to hear. He’s tired, he’s got work the next day, and he hopes he won’t have to deal with this for too long. But common courtesy requires good manners, so he still concerns himself with it.
“Are you- are you okay?”
The guy seems almost out of breath, but he nods vehemently, his eyes wide in surprise and he stammers a bit before he can manage a full sentence. Not suspicious at all. “Ye- yeah, just– a little midnight snack gone wrong.”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “It’s four in the morning.”
“Right.” He chuckles and Seokjin wishes this meeting happened in another, less fire-related situation, because this guy is a bit too cute for this time of the night. Or, well, maybe he’s just cute enough. Although really, really, weird. “A little four AM snack, then. Was trying to make noodles but–– I left the stove on next to the tea towel and then the flowers fell as I tried to fix it and—” He interrupts himself before Seokjin can begin to wonder how did this guy manage to create fresh hell in his own apartment. “Anyway, it’s all good now. Thank you for your concern.”
Seokjin doesn’t know how to reply to his nervous smile – he honestly almost feels bad for the guy, it takes talent to create that much mess with those few actions– so he just warily nods and throws one last look behind the boy to check if there’s any smoke left.
“You sure you ok?” There goes his charming smile again. “Not burning any bodies or anything?”
The man laughs a bit too nervously for Seokjin’s brain not to doubt, even if for a millisecond, that maybe he is burning bodies back there. Which would be unfortunate, having a murderer as neighbor isn’t exactly on Seokjin’s bucket list.
“Yup, sorry for waking you up.”
“You’re gonna have to make it up to Mrs Kang more than anyone. Trust me, you do not wanna be in her black book.” Seokjin warns him, because Mrs Kang does actually have a black book. Seokjin saw it one day when he helped her move some furniture around the flat. It’s not nice.
“Oh, guess I’ll add try not to die at the hands of your elderly neighbor to the list of things to do while I settle in.”
They laugh a little, and Seokjin feels a bit better about this guy. Although he still resents him for waking him up, and while he has a (metaphorical) black book, he’s notMrs. Kang.
“Well, if you need anything– I live two doors down.” Seokjin’s charisma isn’t the best in the middle of the night, but he decides to give it a shot anyway. “Name’s Kim Seokjin– welcome to the building.” He smiles and somehow the boy’s eyes get even wider.
“K-Kim Namjoon,” He smiles back, dimples showing on his cheeks. “Thank you.”
When Seokjin gets back in bed, he tells himself that Kim Namjoon and his dimples will not be easily forgiven. Nor forgotten, for the matter.