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Chapter Text

This dark, foul back alley where he led the target is too familiar to him.

He used to pass by one just like this to get to a dingy building—a complex filled with junkies and runaways—where he owned a beat-up mattress in a room he shared with an alcoholic hooker. He paid rent with money he earned from being an errand boy of a nice household in the city, mowing their lawn and doing daily tasks for some coins a day, but that wasn’t enough. He barely ate, was almost skin and bones when his roommate suggested he comes with her to her workplace—a cabaret of considerable standard in the red-light district where he was offered to work as an escort.

From that point on, there wasn’t much of a choice. He was bound to use his body for survival one way or another—at least that way, he had a chance of trading it off with wealthy business men.

“Here?” The old man of the Ghim clan snickers. A shit-eating grin is plastered across his face, the gaps between his teeth making is really uncomfortable to look at him. “I can take you anywhere you want, any hotel in the country,” he brags, spitting just some inches away from Jisoo’s boots.

Disgusting.

Jisoo tilts his head in an act of confusion. His voice is soft with innocent wonder (men love this) when he asks,  “You must be well off.”

The man steps forward as Jisoo takes a seemingly wary step back, the former’s grin deepening as he eyes his prey. Jisoo needs to keep this distance. It’ll be easier if he’s far from the blood splatters. “That’s right, sweetheart—“ if the nickname makes Jisoo’s blood curdle in annoyance, it doesn’t show on his face “—but I guess cheap whores like you would die to do it anywhere.”

He takes another step to him, and Jisoo would step back again, knowing behind him is a dead end. If he’s allowed to guess, once he’s cornered, the man would start touching him, and frankly…

That’s boring. Not to mention, gross.

So, he takes on a more interesting path.

“I really am—” Jisoo drawls sweetly, and with a quick stroke of his wrist, he’s pulling his gun out of its hidden holster, pointing it straight to the Ghim clan head who still seems like he hasn’t absorbed the situation he’s in just yet, “—dying to do it here.”

There was a time in his life when he surrendered himself to the fate of the lowest of the low, when he let gazes linger, voices get into his head because he was unacceptable—he was nothing. And those were the days when he would let them say what they want to say, and, at one point, he almost allowed them to touch him wherever they want to touch.

Out of respect to the hand that pulled him from the depths of despair, Jisoo doesn’t let anybody look at him in the wrong way. The head of the Yoon clan did not go through all that trouble of shaping him into what he is now just so disgusting old men like the boss of a pathetic organization could try to take a bite of him.

If one could even call the group organized. It’s nothing like the empire that took Jisoo in, that taught Jisoo everything that he knows.

Realization strikes the man and he scrambles to take out his own weapon. The time he takes fumbling about is enough time for Jisoo to shoot, but he’s about to make this a little fun before his head starts aching. “About time,” Jisoo giggles, hand steady as he watches the man try to do as he say with shaky hands.

“You—Do you even know h-how to shoot a gun!?” He puts forward, voice cracking at how loud he is. Jisoo really feels good he’s not part of their clan. This clan head trembles at the sight of a gun. How the fuck is he expected to run a whole underground group?

He ought to give it to this man, though. This one doesn’t recognize Jisoo as the infamous assassin. Usually he’ll get threats about how they would kill Jisoo and take down the Yoon clan with him, and it is getting quite repetitive now that almost every big shot he executed had that exact speech they thought would defy death. At least this one doesn’t.

But there are still those confident words. Almost every time, his targets underestimate him at first glance because of the way he looks. Jisoo knows he has delicate, almost feline features, especially now that he’s adorned to seduce—the tail of the eyeliner he’s wearing flicking razor-sharp to accentuate his slinky eyes, and the red on his lips glistens whenever he shifts under the moonlight.

Sometimes, looks are everything; and maybe that’s why no one thinks he could wield a gun, much less shoot one.

Well, then, he’d just have to show them just how good he is. He has his own trademark—something to let everyone know that, ‘the Paragon was here.’

Two bullets, quick and consecutive—one to the dominant shoulder to avoid drawing or shooting of weapon and another to the back, just above the hip, on that very spot where Jisoo is certain the bullet will crush a piece of the spinal cord, rendering the target numb waist down. If he’s disoriented by the suddenness, he’ll stay splayed on the ground. It’s cleaner and faster for Jisoo to finish the job this way. But in any case the adrenaline remains pumping, the target will try to crawl away with their other arm, and that’s always an amusing sight.

Next is a severed ring finger with the wedding band still attached because he’s a married man, apparently, and Jisoo likes to show sentimentality when he dismembers the target. There has to be a body part that can explain the reason of their death—they simply died, but Jisoo believes it is always for something, no matter how moronic. And so, he shows everyone who will find the body the symbol of the death he brought. A signature in its own right.

Lastly, a clean, precise shot in the middle of the forehead to end the agony. They will die either way. Jisoo doesn’t like the mess of having to drag out the deed. The boss taught him to do as he desires—in pursuit of all pleasure—and Jisoo honors that by leaving a piece in earnest and then reaching a finale.

There’s this ringing in his ears, always for the last shot—a brief moment of getting lost in a trance. He can’t help it—whenever shots are fired and the sour smell of blood and gun powder fills the air, it takes him back to that day, the day when he should’ve abandoned all hope.

This dark, foul back alley where he led the target is too familiar to him. But that doesn’t mean the memory is welcome.

His head hurts like a bitch, but at least the job is done.

“Your thirtieth kill,” Hoshi wolf-whistles from where he’s leaning on the moist, mossy wall of the hidden alley away from the sheer light emanated by the moon—not at all budged by the death that he just witnessed.

Jisoo purses his lips at how annoying he is, ruining his expensive suit like that. He told him to stay in the car earlier, but his subordinate insisted on watching.

“Your suit is getting dirty,” is the only response he gives.

“Congratulations, Paragon. I think the boss will—” he waggles his eyebrows, suggestively making a circle with his index finger and thumb on his right hand and vigorously inserting his left pointer finger inside said circle, “—you know. He finds you hot when you’re perfect—which is always, now that I think about it—”

“Can you just do your job, please?” Jisoo sighs at the blabbering idiot, putting his gun back in the holster inside his waistband. He then checks his black silk shirt, smoothing out any crease that could show. “I have to go back as soon as possible and report to the hyung-nim.”

Hoshi only sighs, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disapproval as he looks at Jisoo.

“What now?”

Maybe he senses Jisoo’s irritation, and it would not exactly be something worth applauding because Jisoo is not really trying to hide it at all with the disgruntled squint of his eyes and furrow of his brows.

“You’re pissed about something,” Hoshi points out as if he’s solving a riddle on Jisoo’s face, “but it’s not with me because I’ve been the best boy for doing you a favor and cleaning this up for you with my magical skills—” Jisoo is about to tell him to shut up, again, but Hoshi holds up a finger to stop him, “—so it must be the job.”

Resisting the urge to react, Jisoo bites the insides of his cheek. Hoshi has a way of reading people like this and it adds to his annoyance, if he is being honest.

This dark, foul back alley where he killed the target is too familiar to him, but that doesn’t make it okay to be here again. But Hoshi doesn’t have to know that.

“Did you fuck up, hyung? You always had a thing for perfection, Paragon.”

The title does not sit well with him—not when the job is done, not when it is coming from a colleague he spends most of his time with instead of the target who can only recognize him by that name.

Pinching his nose bridge, Jisoo reminds himself that the headache is not forming in his head. It is already the size of the person in front of him.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“It’s a great name, alright? Your fans really outdid themselves on that one,” Hoshi pushes himself off the wall. Finally. “So, where did you mess up?”

“I didn’t mess up.”

As the sleek black car pulls up, he starts walking back. Hoshi is persistent with his question, still and all.

“Then why are you so grumpy? Come on! Just a clue,” he pouts, tugging at Jisoo’s sleeve as he walks with him, the corpse behind them clearly an afterthought to him, “I won’t tell hyung-nim.”

Another sigh escapes his lips. He has been spoiling this kid, and now that he’s genuinely unable to keep up with his antics, he’s reaping the misfortune of his own doing, of his softness to his subordinates.

“You won’t have to,” Jisoo says as he gently swats Hoshi’s fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

Eyes scanning the immediate surroundings, he warrants that no one’s there like he gauged when this was only a plan. When he deems it quiet—the way an unpopulated area in a disreputable part of the city would be—he gets in the car. Another will come for Hoshi when he finishes his job.

But before he shut the car door, the younger calls out, “Don’t forget—the movie starts at ten!”

Suppressing another sigh because it’s getting dramatic, to be honest, Jisoo nods, watching Hoshi break into a smile. The sight warms him a little.

“I get it, I get it!”

It takes him an hour to get back to the Yoon clan headquarters, and even by the time he arrives, the sun still slept behind the horizon.

When the car stops in front of the steps to the entrance, Jisoo catches sight of one man in a black suit posted at the doors—Mingyu, Jisoo could tell by his easy stature. Jisoo remembers feeling utterly laughable when he walked in those doors the very first time in torn tracksuit pants and an oversized t-shirt, Jeonghan’s coat draped over his shoulder because he was shivering like a wet dog. He remembers feeling out of place, dumbfounded and rightfully so since the kingpin of one of the most influential, long-standing family name just told him he fell in love with Jisoo.

With dirt-poor, frail Jisoo. Unbelievable, right?

He remembers biting his tongue to resist the urge to complain, the urge to ask more about it, but he knew that would sound ungrateful when he was getting the better end of the deal.

He fell in love, too. Who wouldn’t after all that care that Jeonghan invested on him? He just didn’t expect to be loved back, and that—

That has left him incredulous.

The Yoon clan, of course, has to operate under the guise of an actual business—how else can they co-exist with the general population? He remembers expecting a torture chamber or an empty warehouse where they interrogate hostages, but instead, he found himself standing in the middle of a gleaming lobby with shiny marble floors, in front of a massive Christmas tree decorated with so many colors, it made the inner child in him cry. A receptionist from the working desk came to hand him a tissue, and Jisoo remembers thinking… warm.

Ever since he took Jeonghan’s hand, it has been so warm.

The Yoon Corporation specializes in shipping and transport, particularly storage tankers that aim to move luxury cars to Europe and North America. And while it did take some time before Jisoo got acquainted and eventually educated about the inner workings of the family business, it was common knowledge among possibly everyone in the country who could read or watch or listen to the news that the Yoon clan’s aboveground business was more than successful.

The elevator ping jolts him out of his reminiscing, and when the door opens, he sees him.

He sees him, and everything—even the sin he committed mere moments ago—everything makes sense.

“I’m back,” Jisoo announces as he steps into the head’s office as if he was out to buy something from the convenience store, not out to kill a man at his boyfriend’s bidding.

Almost immediately, Jeonghan’s chair turns around, sharp brown eyes tearing away from studying the Seoul city line out the window of his office to focus on Jisoo’s. There is a mellow look on his face, distinct against the cold nature he sports without exception—Jisoo being the only exception, it seems.

Sucking in a breath, Jisoo burns up as warmth filled his chest.

Yoon Jeonghan looks dashing as always.

The crisp burgundy velvet suit jacket clings to his body, fitting perfectly the way it should, considering the hefty sum of money the boss allot for his clothing. And the black turtleneck under it stretches across his chest like second skin. Jisoo’s gaze flits to his hair—brown and luxuriant, neat unlike last time they saw each other when it was strewn all over the pillows as Jisoo rode on top—

The reminder of last night takes the burning sensation somewhere other than his face.

“Come here,” Jeonghan says, benign and sweet-tempered unlike his usual tone with the others, watching Jisoo turn redder by the second. He pushes back, swivel chair moving off the desk and making space for Jisoo to slot himself in between. Without so much a bat of an eyelash, Jisoo follows.

Wrapping his arms around Jisoo’s narrow waist, Jeonghan pulls him onto his lap as soon as he is in front of him, and Jisoo’s rigid form melts into his arms as the exhaustion settles in his bones. The sun is just starting to peek from behind the skyscrapers, a sign that the day is just starting for normal people, but for people like them it never ends. One thing about being a part of the organization is that one has to have the vigilance, the impulse to function not on human schedule because anything can happen at any time. So, when Jisoo was awakened by a phone call from one of the clan’s director with a direct order from the hyung-nim himself, there was not much of a choice.

His boyfriend might be the boss, but he has worked so hard to prove that he earned the title he has not because he climbs in bed with the alpha wolf of the pack.

Although that is not a terrible perk to have.

“N-No,” Jisoo softly protests as Jeonghan noses the line of his neck, consciously aware of how he probably smells like garbage from that back alley and gun smoke and blood and fear, but his hands make no effort to push him away. They stay on each of Jeonghan’s shoulders, holding onto him. “No, Jeonghan—hey, I stink.”

Breathing in, Jeonghan smiles against his neck. All he can smell is Jisoo’s skin. His nose got really good at finding that sweet smell over the years. “No such thing,” he mumbles, lips pressed onto the skin, “You smell delicious.”

“Well, we can’t do it here—“ Worry laces Jisoo’s voices as he tries to make a fuss of acting like he is moving away from he kisses, but Jeonghan is iron steel as he peppers more on his neck and cheeks just to make a point. “Someone might come in—” Goosebumps spread across his skin as Jeonghan licks at his neck. “—Yoon Jeonghan—” Jeonghan moves up to lick at the corner of his mouth, an amused smile pulled at the boss’ lips “—stop that—”

“Jisoo is too serious,” Jeonghan carps as he slows down with his kisses, “We can’t do it here, huh?” A hand travels to his thigh, grip firm, and Jisoo is all too familiar with this touch. “What exactly are we doing, baby?”

Heat spreads on the tops of Jisoo’s cheek, the words sinking in. Jeonghan is making fun of him again.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, hiding his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, finally putting the smothering to a halt. “We’re in your office, Jeonghan. Behave yourself.”

“That never seemed to stop us before.” Pouting, more heard than seen by Jisoo, Jeonghan quibbles like a child, “I was at the port the whole night. You could be a little more excited to see me, you know.”

“And I was out there, planting bullets in your enemies,” Jisoo grumbles, making a blegh face, and Jeonghan feels his chest constrict at how adorable his boyfriend is while talking about murder. “Which reminds me—what did the head of Ghim clan do? I don’t recall any attacks.”

Jisoo knows that questioning the reason behind an order is wrong, but he cannot help wondering why it was so urgent. As far as he knows, the Ghim clan has not been active for quite some time.

“There was a small attempt,” Jeonghan sighs, burying his face back in Jisoo’s neck for comfort, an action the younger welcomed. “It was personal.”

Well, that ought to shut him up. If it’s personal, they must have threatened to harm something really important to Jeonghan. It could be transactions, deals. It could also be that recent shipment as long as it has something to do with the clan. Personal comes in the form of work for someone like the hyung-nim.

He is like Jisoo, after all. He has no one.

Well, that’s a bit untrue. He has Jisoo, and Jisoo has him. But no one really succeeds in getting rid of Jisoo, and if they do try, there is a huge chance they are just trying to defend themselves from him.

An assassin, a prodigy that Jeonghan sculpted in only a few years—but he’s replaceable in that field. Jeonghan could train Hoshi or their youngest frontline, Chan, and it would be no different from him.

As Jeonghan’s lover, however…

Let’s just say Jisoo is ready to prove his worth, to show Jeonghan just how grateful he is for everything. He doesn’t think he’ll survive knowing Jeonghan doesn’t want him anymore.

“So, I can assume you secured the goods?” His fingers play with the folds of fabric around Jeonghan’s neck. “Because if you didn’t, then I had to dress up like this to lure him out of that shady brothel for nothing—”

“—an amazing detail, if you ask me. Hoshi really did a great job thinking about that. Silk really looks good on you, I should buy you a closet of these things. And yes, boss, the goods are secured.”

“Hoshi?” Jisoo squints at him, ignoring the frisky use of boss, head zoning in on that detail, “You two talked?”

“I…” Jeonghan’s face falls, looking a tiny bit ashamed as he scratches his head, “…might have had him report to me the whole time?”

A surge of annoyance washes over Jisoo as he brings a fist to thump at Jeonghan’s chest.

“What the—I don’t need a babysitter! When was the last time I needed backup!?”

Jeonghan only laughs, which makes it harder for Jisoo to stay mad. He doesn’t need Hoshi hovering over him when he is trying to do his job. It has been three years. This is his thirtieth kill. He proved himself capable more than once now.

“Don’t psych yourself up,” Jeonghan rubs soothing circles on his back, an action that brings back the exhaustion as if stripping away the adrenaline from his body. “I was just concerned. The guy was known to be a real pervert.”

“He wouldn’t stand a chance if he touched me—”

“I know,” Jeonghan says, a serene smile playing on his lips. Something about his tone makes Jisoo think he means the words more than he lets on. “No one can touch you.”

Jeonghan’s smile is so beautiful it leaves him in disbelief. How come no one else sees this?

Still pouting, Jisoo huffs as he pushes himself off his lap, making his way to the door as he turns deaf to his boyfriends complaints.

“Hey! I wasn’t done recharging—” Jeonghan makes a fuss, the loss of warmth on his lap taking his energy away from him. “—Baby, please—”

“The sun is almost up,” Jisoo cuts him off as he stretches his arms a little, oblivious of the way Jeonghan eyes the way his pants seems to be sinfully painted on his ass. “I have plans with a friend.”

“Hoshi? Isn’t he cleaning up?”

Once near the door, Jisoo turns around to face him. “No, the new assistant to the doctor? Lee Seokmin?”

Jeonghan hums, nodding as he recalls their family doctor taking in a subordinate. “Who else are you with?”

“Just the two of us, we’re going to the cinema theater downtown,” Jisoo’s happiness with the fact manifests in the rise in his voice, “Seokmin has been raving about this new movie—his favorite actor stars in it, apparently.”

The plan was originally between Seokmin and Hoshi, but Hoshi asked him to fill in for him with this sudden job popping out of nowhere. They made a deal—Jisoo will gather information from the guy that Hoshi has been hinting he’s forming a little crush on, and in return…

Well, in return, Jisoo gets to get out of the penthouse for something other than work, finally. This setup might seem more beneficial to Hoshi, but Seokmin is a good friend, well-liked by the clan members. And Jisoo feels safe with him. Him being a bundle of sunshine and all. It’s refreshing to be with a person who exudes so much innocence, who’s a spitting image of what Jisoo could have been if his parents lived long to take care of him.

(Hoshi will still get an earful for agreeing to babysit him, but Jisoo won’t be too harsh—he knows it’s Jeonghan’s call when it comes down to it.)

If the boss’ face turns dark, Jisoo doesn’t catch it because his eyes are too busy sparkling in excitement. It has been so long since a friend invited him to go out. Somehow, all of the clan members are suddenly busy whenever he asked. And it’s not like they ask him first. Now that he thinks about it, only Hoshi calls him his friend out loud.

Jeonghan cocks an eyebrow, leaning back with a tilt to his head, “And you didn’t think of telling me beforehand?”

The merry air around Jisoo falters. He forgot about that.

“It was kind of last minute…” That isn’t a lie at all. Usually, he tells Jeonghan about his every move, but the job earlier came without prior notice, so it slipped his mind until now.

But it’s worth a shot, right?

It’s just a movie. “It’s fine, right?” Jeonghan doesn’t answer the question right away, so he continues, “I’ll be careful. No one will recognize me.”

This is new territory for Jeonghan. His boyfriend is going on what sounds like a date with someone Jeonghan hasn’t met yet. There are rules in place; and rule number one is that Jisoo is not communal property. Not even the directors, clan members of higher rank, dare to borrow Jisoo’s time for a helping hand.

But sure, Jisoo’s safety is the topic here.

“Does that sound responsible to you?” Jeonghan keeps his voice level and inquisitive, “Going out in broad daylight without backup?”

“It’s just for a few hours,” Jisoo counters as creases form between his eyebrows. It’s unusual for him to be stubborn, but he doesn’t get why Jeonghan is uptight over one movie. This is the first time he’s asking for something like this. “I’ll cover up.”

It’s not that he’s not allowed to go out—it’s just that he’s too busy shooting people to have fun. Sure, Jeonghan is a well-known man with a reputation to uphold both above and underground, but it’s not like the public knows about their relationship for Jisoo’s activities to affect him.

But deep down, underneath all that stubborn reasoning, Jisoo knows where the concern is coming from. Jeonghan has always been protective of him. And maybe he’s really not in the position to be asking for anything because he literally owes his life to Jeonghan, but…

It’s just one movie with a friend. He’s not asking for something outrageous, right?

“Please?” Pleading eyes meet Jeonghan’s, and it’s the first time Jisoo insists on something that seems so trivial like this. “I’ll be really good, you won’t have anything to worry about.”

Usually, the younger doesn’t even wait for an explicit no from the clan head. He knows the tone. He knows the body language—the dismissive wave of the hand, the unamused clench of the jaw. He knows, so it’s interesting to see that he’s after this one, small thing.

In the span of silence, Jisoo prepares to resign himself to Jeonghan’s disapproval. Now that it’s slowly sinking in—it is reckless for someone like him to go outside. Irresponsible. This is not like him at all.

“Alright,” Jeonghan says, face stoic and voice level. But Jisoo perks up at the words. He did not expect that at all. “You can go. But be home early.”

Or else. It’s unspoken, but it’s there, lingering in the air, at the back of his mind.

“Really?”

“Go,” Jeonghan raises an unamused brow, “before I change my mind.”

Jisoo has no idea if he’s off the hook, but his head is filled with the thought of finally going out for fun, not for assignments—and it’s honestly so refreshing. He takes long strides towards him, pressing a kiss to his mouth across the desk in between them. “I love you so freaking much.”

“You can say ‘fucking,’ you know,” Jeonghan mumbles, pulling him in for one last deep kiss, briefly tangling their tongues together.

Jisoo has an elated look on his face when he pulls back, looking a lot more light-hearted. He gets a mischievous glint in his eyes as he walks back to the doors before Jeonghan could pull him again into a third last kiss. “Can’t use inappropriate language in front of the boss or I might get fired.”

But before the clan head could counter that lame employee joke, his enlivened boyfriend is already dashing to the doors and slipping out of the office. Going before he changes his mind, just like he asked.

And while the happy look on Jisoo’s beautiful face is something he wants to treasure, he doesn’t like the idea of not having eyes on him at all times.

Blind to how his jaw is tightly set, Jeonghan picks up the phone off his desk.

“Jihoon.”

“Yes, hyung-nim?”

“Track Jisoo’s whereabouts. Report to me.”

The air is still. Hoshi holds his breath as he stands before the hyung-nim, awaiting his reaction. Jihoon, however, remains calm next to him. It’s as if standing before the clan head is not menacing enough, he also has to stand beside the super unfriendly information broker.

“And the wife?” Jeonghan asks after a while of absorbing the details of Hoshi’s report, a long while of deafening silence. “Did she get the warning?”

Hoshi lets out a shaky breath, a type of laughter that brings a smile to the hyung-nim’s face.

“Jisoo-hyung shot her husband in the face,” he points out, voice amused, “I hope she does, for her sake.”

Propping his chin on entwined hands, Jeonghan hums, satisfaction gracing his face.

“I don’t get you,” Hoshi says, crossing his arms on his chest as he relaxes (knowing that the job was well done). The reporting—the hard part—is now over. The boss’ initial reaction is something to prepare for always. “Why did you have to kill their boss as warning? They might retaliate, and we might not be ready when they strike back.”

“Do I look like I’m afraid of the Ghims?” Jeonghan chuckles lightly, leaning back with his eyes trained on Hoshi’s, scrutinizing his misbehavior. Questioning the hyung-nim is an insubordination that is already punishable by death, but Hoshi and his impudent mouth has always been something no one can tame.

“They’re barely an organization with their boss—what more now?”  Hoshi’s gaze does not waver against his. Difficult as it is, he tries to read the boss, to no avail. “Besides, his wife tried to twist my arm. She knew it was coming.”

“So you had yours kill him?” Hoshi lets out a laugh, falling back on the chair cushions with a thump.

“He will, if he hears you call him my wife,” Jeonghan smiles, dangerously bright and sunny, “Now, who died and let you sit your ass in my office?”

Jihoon lets out a snort, still quiet as he stands before the clan head, waiting for his turn. It’s annoying to be looked down on like this, so Hoshi gets up, straightening himself as a little show of pride.

“We’re done here, Hoshi,” Jeonghan says as he gazes down on the files Jihoon handed him earlier. “Dismissed.”

Unmoving, Hoshi stands dumbly as he scans his face—nothing. The boss will not give any more details than this.

And it’s definitely weird because if he recalls the boss’ earlier instructions for him…

If the target recognizes Jisoo, kill him at once. If not, let Jisoo do the job.

It was a simple order. He didn’t think there would be a reason to ask why. Well, until now.

Does the Ghims have something that the hyung-nim doesn’t want him to know?

What is he hiding from Jisoo-hyung?

He means to ask these out loud, but he stops himself as soon as the thoughts cross his mind. There is no way Yoon Jeonghan will let him live if he disrespects him like that.

Aware that there is nothing he can get out of this for now, he heads to the door, but Jeonghan’s voice stops him the very last second.

“Hoshi,” he says his name as a warning, making a shiver run down his spine, “I don’t give a damn about what you think you know. Don’t interfere.”

Fuck.

Of course. He shouldn’t have stared that long.

“I wouldn’t even dream it, boss.” He turns, throwing a playful salute in his direction despite his heart beating wildly in his chest. And what doesn’t help is how Jeonghan’s face remains unreadable. “I’ll be taking my leave, hyung-nim. If you want to know who did Jisoo-hyung’s pretty makeup, just send me a text and I’ll send you the details.”

The door clicks shut behind him as he leaves the office, Jihoon’s smug face being the last thing he sees. So far, he still has no idea what the secret could be. He knows it’s something big, something that once Jisoo finds out, there could be trouble not just for him.

One thing is for sure, though.

Yoon Jeonghan will have to kill him if he finds out. If he’s even caught investigating.

When Jeonghan enters the penthouse—home, like Jisoo always calls it—he finds everything the way it was.

It bewilders him how something so hollow before… now feels so lived in, so intimate.

And there, on the couch, is his angel, snoozing his way to heaven, wearing clothes so casual it baffles Jeonghan how normal he looks like this.

“Hey,” Jeonghan whispers as he bends down to flick a hair off Jisoo’s forehead. He is sleeping so soundly that the idea of waking him up hurts, but Jeonghan has to or else he would have to carry him to their room, and Jisoo had made it clear that he absolutely does not want to be scooped off his feet and carried princess-style to anywhere. Last time Jeonghan did it, there was this whole commotion. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

Jisoo stirs, opening his eyes slowly and Jeonghan watches with awe as he blinks slow and sweet like molasses. He lives for these moments where he can expect to see the smallest quirk, the tiniest foible in Jisoo’s daily life—the way his eyes do not squint the first time they open after waking up from deep sleep, full and doe-like, tantamount to a child’s looking around in wide-eyed confusion.

And in those vulnerable eyes, there is always that twinge of fear that Jeonghan seeks for as much as he can. Fear that tells him that Jisoo, in that split-second, feels insecure without the affirmation that he is safe. That Jeonghan is there with him.

Jeonghan lives for moments where he can assert his presence and remind Jisoo of his salvation.

“I’m right here, not going anywhere,” he mutters, thumb swiping along Jisoo’s cheekbones and then moving to soften the crease in between his brows. It takes some moments before the words reaches Jisoo’s ears, and then there it is—the spark of recognition in his eyes followed by the sweetest smile.

In a small, throaty voice, Jisoo asks, “What time is it?”

“A little over midnight,” he says, smiling gently, “Came home early this time.”

Jisoo closes his eyes again, squeezing them tight as he moves to unfold and stretch his limbs, soft smile still lingering on his lips as sleep tries to pull him back. Leaning in, Jeonghan presses a soft kiss to his mouth, and Jisoo melts into him.

“What did you do today?” Jeonghan asks as he settles next to him when he sits up, Jisoo’s unhurried movements making it seem like time is slowing down.

“Movie—really boring,” Jisoo says through a yawn, eyes blinking beautifully, “I fell asleep in the car on the way back, Seokmin must have carried me up here because I don’t remember getting out.”

He feels the tips of his fingers tingle as the image is fashioned in his mind, hand gripping Jisoo’s arm firmly. Jisoo only looks at his hold, too droopy to understand the change of atmosphere.

As much as Jeonghan wants to do something about it right now, his boyfriend is snuggling against him, face rubbing on his arm as his head falls, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

When Jeonghan leads Jisoo who is still groggy with sleep into their bed, he tells Jeonghan in a small, throaty voice that he waited for him to come home and that there are leftovers in the fridge in case he’s hungry. After changing him out of his outside clothes, Jeonghan kisses his forehead as he tucks him in, whispering promises of coming back after washing up.

And when he slips back into bed, fresh from the showers, he gently pulls Jisoo’s sleeping body flush against him. Even unconscious, Jisoo clings to the warmth, nose burying in his neck.

When Jisoo is safe in his arms, Jeonghan is most powerful. That is what the lady of the Ghim clan did not take into consideration when she tried that pitiful move.

Jeonghan wonders how scared she is after finding out about a certain severed finger that Jisoo left on the ground, the band of a wedding ring still attached. The body of her cheating husband should suffice as a warning. Jeonghan will kill her next. She just has to make the wrong move first. And she will, in due time.

Power is a blessing to those who worked their way from the bottom to the top. It’s crucial to stay in power, to have it from the moment they attain it until the end of their lives, to never have it taken away by anyone or anything.

To Yoon Jeonghan, power is not the one that holds his sense of purpose. Power is just a tool to get the one thing that he ever wanted in life.

Jeonghan is Jisoo's god—that's the way the story goes. He’ll have to do whatever it takes to keep his angel from flying away when he finally has him all to himself.

Chapter Text

Aiming in between the target’s eyebrows, Jisoo pulls the trigger.

Not a single wasted bullet today, he ponders as pain pulses beginning from his forehead.

“Wow,” Seokmin’s jaw drops in genuine awe, “How do you not gag? It smells so bad.”

Jisoo glances at him and surely enough, the doctor’s assistant looks green.

Rookies .

Well, he was one, once upon a time, so instead of being condescending about it, Jisoo just shrugs. “Time gets you used to it, I guess.” A half lie. Jisoo still can’t stand the smell of blood. “I’ve been doing this for over four years now.”

Seokmin, in a fit of courage or something , nudges the dead body with the tip of his shoe. With a grimace, he gulps, stepping back behind Jisoo. “Yep, that’s definitely a corpse.”

“Here, catch.”

Seokmin scrambles to catch the gun Jisoo tossed in his direction, hands clutching at it just on time before it hits the ground. What the heck —his heart starts racing as his mind wonders what would have happened if he wasn’t fast enough. What if the thing fires and it hits his foot!? (Later, he would find out that it wouldn’t —It’s a Glock, but Seokmin doesn’t know shit about guns. He’s only training for self-defense. He’s the doctor’s assistant , for cheesecakes.)

“Reflexes could be better,” Jisoo chuckles at his scandalized expression, “Spend more time with your trainer. Why are you even with me today?”

“Director Choi said I should go see at least one death today.” Jisoo rolls his eyes. Typical of Seungcheol to run things this way. “Hoshi doesn’t exactly teach me anything,” the new recruit grumbles, holstering the thing and following behind Jisoo as they walk back to the car. They have a meeting to get to after the job, and Jisoo is nothing if not punctual.

Actually, Jisoo is nothing if not devoted to the clan head, but that doesn’t sound fitting at the moment.

“The only education I’ve received from him so far is that, apparently, I’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

Seokmin reaches out to open the car door for Jisoo, the older slipping inside as he snorts, “Sometimes, he sounds like an old man.”

The response only came when Seokmin is next to him at the backseat. “Right? And there’s this thing about keeping our relationship secret like we’re being watched by Joseon Confucianist noblemen. What’s up with that? He’s always so confusing.”

At a loss for words, Jisoo only blinks.

Is it okay to know this much about his subordinates?

Seokmin is an open book— literally an open book. His eyes don’t seem to know how to lie, he doesn’t seem to have secrets at all, if his profile is anything to go by. And Jihoon is very thorough when it comes to background checks.

Still, Jisoo can’t help wondering if it’s really okay to know so much. Knowing a lot might mean getting attached ...

“You know what? Last week, he kissed me— kissed me on the mouth!” Jisoo opens his mouth to tell him to stop right there , but it seems like Seokmin is on a rant he doesn’t want interrupted. “And you’d think it’s romantic —with how much we’re being lovey-dovey recently, so I thought I should ask him what that was all about. But he just said I’m dumb and it makes him horny. Like? That was such as boner-reverse.”

… On the second thought, he’d rather not .

“Alright, that’s it,” Jisoo can feel the pulsing in his head spreading from his forehead to his whole head. “I genuinely do not want to know about this—"

“But it doesn’t end there!” It doesn’t? Fuck Jisoo’s life. “He asked me to be his boyfriend. And, so I was like—‘ I thought I only make you horny?’ —And he was like— 'I love you, you stupid bitch!’ —I mean he didn’t say it exactly like that, but it felt like that—”

“—How long until we get to the headquarters?” Jisoo asks the driver as Seokmin prattles on and on. Goddamn, he doesn’t remember being this annoying when he was a rookie.

“About 20 more minutes, sir.”

“—But he said he loves me, and I felt the same way, so I said —‘okay, let’s be boyfriends!’ —and everything was fine—great, even! We are having mind-blowing sex. Well, not right now since I’m with you—”

“Shut up!” Jisoo rarely raises his voice, maybe not at all unless he’s spitting out orders, but the ringing in his ears is back.

“But I haven’t gotten to the point of —”

“That’s an order,” he spits harshly, almost immediately regretting it as Seokmin’s hypothetical dog ears droop along with his expression.

And, really, Jisoo can and will ignore him for the rest of the ride, especially now that it’s finally quiet. But not even a minute later, Seokmin makes his whining noise in the back of his throat as he stares somberly outside the car window. And it sounds significantly like a puppy that was kicked by its cruel master.

Making eye contact with the driver in the rear-view mirror who is somehow thinking the same thing he’s thinking, Jisoo sighs deeply as he relents, nudging Seokmin’s thigh with his knee.

This child is so troublesome. Jisoo feels like he’ll age twenty more years, the more time he spends with Seokmin.

“What was it?”

“Hmm?”

“The point of your story.” Jisoo is going to regret this. He’s only ever soft on Hoshi, but since the rookie is his boyfriend, Jisoo has to be soft to him by extension.

Not that Seokmin makes it easy to go hard on him, seeing how he just whimpered after getting reprimanded.

“Oh, um,” Seokmin scratches his neck, suddenly noticing how loud he was earlier, “I was just about to ask if you know why he’s adamant on hiding our relationship. I figured you know why since he’s comfortable enough to tell you about me.”

He could have said that in the beginning. Seriously.

“I don’t think I can speak for him—” Jisoo says, but the slowly plummeting face on Seokmin tells him if he doesn’t say anything remotely comforting, he’ll be ending a relationship today “—but I do know that the clan doesn’t respect romantic relationships between members. So, maybe it isn’t so personal after all.”

Something about getting attached with each other while having a lifestyle like theirs is troublesome. If one dies and the partner takes their death to heart, the clan loses two members instead of one. They need to equally bear the burden. Blood may be spilled, but, hey—duty calls.

“But what about you?”

“Me? What do I have to do with it?”

“You’re with the hyung-nim.”

Oh.

Feeling heat creep up his face because it’s always so nice whenever someone points that out, Jisoo turns to look outside the window to avoid Seokmin’s gaze. “We’re—That’s different . You can’t really force the rules to the one who made them.”

“I guess,” Seokmin hums, unaware of how red Jisoo’s face is becoming the more he speaks, “It’s nice to be boss. You get to be rich and get to have Jisoo-hyung as your boyfriend.”

“You’re—” Jisoo clears his throat because he doesn’t trust his voice right now. “You’re not really good at buttering up to your superiors.”

He’s met with a dumb look on Seokmin as the younger points at himself, his head tilted in confusion. How more innocent can he get? “I wasn’t trying to, though.”

“Enough about me,” he figures steering the conversation sooner is better than later, “Do you want me to tell him to parade your relationship or something?”

“Nah. That’s enough reason.”

The answer surprises Jisoo. He remembers a time when he told Jeonghan the same thing. He didn’t want anyone to know about them, not until he proved himself. It didn’t really go well. Jeonghan was in distress, thinking Jisoo is ashamed of him and is reluctant of their relationship… so, this is kind of new to Jisoo.

“You’re going with it? Just like that?”

Nodding, Seokmin presses his lips like children do. “I believe in him. He’s straightforward in his own way. He probably wanted me to know about it from a superior so it wouldn’t sound like a lame excuse.”

Jisoo doesn’t really get it but… well, it’s not his place to get anything.

Still, he appreciates how open Seokmin is with him. It feels like something family do.

“Hey, Seokmin.”

“Hmm?”

“Come to our home tonight if you’re free,” Jisoo says, offering a warm smile, and by the way Seokmin smiles back at him, the warmth reaches him, too. “I always do these get-togethers with the directors and the operating units—just immediate clan members.”

Seokmin’s eyes sparkle, and Jisoo can’t resist the urge to giggle at how adorable he is. “B-But! Is that really okay? I’m not trained yet—I haven’t even met the hyung-nim—Oh, god , what am I gonna wear —”

“It’s fine. Hoshi’s gonna be there, hopefully.” The clan is pretty cool once you get to know them outside of business, but Jisoo will let Seokmin figure that out for himself. “Casual is alright. It’s just us.”

“You sure, hyung?” Seokmin says as he scratches the back of his neck, “I’m not imposing?”

“Of course not. I invited you.”

The driver horns in, “We’re here, sir.”

Eyeing the familiar building as the car comes to a halt, Jisoo murmurs, “But for now we have to get to this meeting first.”

Conference rooms of the Yoon Corporation are cold as always.

Jisoo doesn’t like it. It reminds him of the day he first entered the penthouse Jeonghan lived in. It smells like nothing, like no one ever made coffee, no one ever hummed a tune, like no one ever laughed in it.

It was still beautiful, the interior looking expensive, and it’s clear that Jeonghan paid a lot for such a broad space, but something about the place seemed too… sterile.

And Jisoo has fragmented memories of a warm home—one that he tries to recreate everywhere he goes.

This conference room is not it .

“You’re early,” Seungcheol greets as Jisoo settles himself at the right-hand seat nearest to the head’s chair.

Jisoo looks over to see Seokmin standing by the door next to Hoshi, and immediate security—Jun and Mingyu. His face is impassive even when their eyes meet. Jisoo is impressed. He knows how to act around superiors, at least.

“What, are you still surprised?” He asks, crossing his legs under the table, trying to make himself comfortable despite the stuffy, decorous air of the room. “I’m always early. It’s actually me who should be asking why you’re already here.”

Letting out a low whistle, Wonwoo smirks from across Jisoo. “Found him sleeping in here when we got here.”

“Slacking off again, Choi?” Jisoo snickers, tone light. It’s not out of spite—it’s just the only way he can interact with Seungcheol without rumors spreading. And it seems like Seungcheol knows that given by how he plays along with it.

“I had a rough night.”

“Rough night my ass ,” Wonwoo scoffs, “You were out with the info broker.”

Jisoo’s neck almost breaks with how fast he whips his head to Seungcheol’s direction next to Wonwoo. “ Jihoon? You’re hooking up with Jihoon?”

“What—How do you even know that—” Seungcheol gawks at Wonwoo, horrified , “Well, we weren’t doing anything—”

Visibly enjoying the commotion, Wonwoo interrupts, leaning across the table as if he’s a gossiping auntie and then loudly whispering, “I once heard him say he wanted Jihoon to check out his hard drive.”

“Unbelievable,” Jisoo looks absolutely appalled. “You really can’t keep it in your pants for a minute, can you, Choi Seungcheol?”

“I was talking about my actual hard drive—” Seungcheol tries to make his situation better, but now it just sounds like the euphemism stands, and he’s digging himself a deeper grave “— wait , that’s not what I mean —”

“After this meeting I’m going straight to human resources.” It’s still a legal business on the front. Jihoon still holds a formal job in the corporation and Seungcheol is a company executive. Shaking his head, Jisoo comes to a conclusion all by himself that Seungcheol is just a pervert taking advantage of a poor employee. Wonwoo, however, expected this reaction from him, expressing his amusement by laughing out loud. “You’re an animal . A disgusting parasite, menace of society—”

“That’s mean! Jisoo, is this how you think of… me…?”

The air turns cold and Seungcheol’s words falter when the door opens and the boss enters through them.

He’s in an all-black three-piece suit today, which is what Jisoo notes immediately as his eyes scan his boyfriend, his breath suddenly knocked out of him.

He’s allowed to check him out a little. Jeonghan wasn’t home for a few days thanks to an official visit to Guatemala, and if he’s being completely honest, touching himself while Jeonghan tells him what to do over the phone doesn’t hold as much fire as when the man is directly touching him.

Everyone else fading in the background, Jisoo’s eyes meet Jeonghan’s, and for a heartbeat, the clan head holds his gaze. He feels his cheeks heat up. Somehow, something tells him that Jeonghan remembers last night, too.

When they’re alone, in the comfort of their home, Jeonghan is warm— unbelievably so. Jisoo can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s the only one who gets to see that Jeonghan. And even now, in the presence of the clan members, he’s the only one who can feel the warmth when Jeonghan sits down at the head of the table, hand shooting out to interlace fingers with Jisoo’s before jumping to his real reason for why he called a meeting.

As it is, the Ghim clan arranged an information exchange, and no one knows why or if it’s even worth anything, but the hyung-nim telling them about it must mean it’s now of importance.

Jisoo listens quietly and attentively as Jeonghan dissects the plan. “They expect us to send a messenger to their base. Any suggestions?”

“There’s always Chan,” Wonwoo offers, being the most logically sound director. Chan is the clan messenger—of course it makes most sense to make him do it. It’s probably the safest job in the entire business. No respectable clan shoots the messenger.

But Jeonghan seems to have his mind set on something else. “Not Chan. I have him covering a different assignment, something bigger than just the Ghims.”

“What exactly to we need?” Seungcheol asks. “If this isn’t as important as other assignments, let’s just flip the card and make them come to our base if an information exchange is so important.”

Making a sound of disapproval, Wonwoo sighs, “Well, we did shoot bullets at them.” He looks at Jisoo who just shrugs. It’s nothing personal. He received an order directly from Jeonghan, and he delivered. He wasn’t even completely sure that was the Ghim clan head he killed. They all know that. “Technically, we attacked first. The truce won’t be viable if we don’t honor the rules when we break it—and it’s just the Ghims. They’re bad at clan wars. They won’t harm one of us unless they’re planning to go all out.”

With that, Seungcheol scratches under his chin, “So, what do we do now?”

“The question is who we send.”

The directors, Jisoo, they’re out of the question. They can’t act as messengers because they function differently—they’re the last resort when Jeonghan is too irritated to put up with whoever stands in his way yet doesn’t find the target important enough to deal with the pest himself. It’s the reason why Jisoo hasn’t had over forty kills in four years—he’s the big gun. They’re the big guns. And you only cock the big guns when you’re either very angry or very desperate.

“I can do it,” Hoshi points at himself. There’s a rule that says only those who sit at the table can speak, but Hoshi is always the unspoken exception to the rule, mostly because he’s too good at his job. If he weren’t… well, Jisoo doesn’t want to imagine the corpse of his only friend. “I’m not that busy.”

Silence prevails in the vast room. Why no one speaks, Jisoo doesn’t know, but they’re maybe calculating if Hoshi can be used someplace else.

And the indecisiveness is getting to Jisoo’s nerves. Their purpose is to serve Jeonghan, and they’re not doing it right, or well enough for that matter. Jeonghan seems patient, though, unlike his usual demeanor around work.

“How about Seokmin?” Jisoo suggests. This conversation has to move if they want to finish. “He’s a fresh face. He’s tame enough.”

All eyes are on him like he had the best idea in the room.

“It can double as his initiation,” Jisoo adds, noting how Jeonghan lightly squeezes his hand in silent acknowledgement. Pride blooms in his chest as he continues, “If this goes smoothly, then he can be invested in a blood pact, making him a family member.”

Wonwoo hums in consideration, but Seungcheol doesn’t seem convinced, “A blood pact just for being a messenger? Isn’t that too easy?”

“He’s just a doctor’s assistant,” Jisoo points out, “This is already a bit over his pay grade.”

With that, the three of them turns to Jeonghan, awaiting his decision. Meetings usually go two ways—either with Jeonghan spitting out commands followed by everyone scrambling to attend to every single one, or like this, where the directors (and Jisoo) throw ideas back and forth.

The weird thing about the latter is that Jeonghan has already made up his mind—that’s just how he is... always a hundred steps ahead of everyone. At least, Jisoo think he already has an answer, and he likes to think he knows Jeonghan well.

Why he lets them lock horns in front of him despite that, though, Jisoo has no idea.

Jeonghan glances from across the room, gaze going straight to Seokmin's, whose knees visibly weaken at the eye contact. Jisoo is pretty sure Jeonghan’s ripping through him with one look on purpose, and he actually feels bad for the new recruit. He looks like he’s about to shit his pants.

“Why don’t we ask the newbie what he thinks?”

Seokmin’s throat is dry when he croaks out, “I think—I-I can do it,” he parrots Hoshi’s earlier words. “I’m not b-busy.” And maybe Jeonghan sharpened his gaze more because the poor guy adds “…sir, hyung-nim, sir.”

It takes a second—a long, stifling second—before the hyung-nim responds to that. Letting out a low chuckle, Jeonghan leans back, relaxing in appearance, “Jisoo’s right. Since our new member is free , maybe we should send him.”

Out of fear more than anything else, Seokmin sputters as he nods eagerly. His first job is really not bad if it means it’ll lead him to a blood pact as soon as possible. Being part of the family has its perks. Mingyu and Jun are still working on theirs up to this day.

Damn right, I’m right. Jisoo feels giddy, a little more confident now that Jeonghan said that in front of everyone.

In an attempt to childishly dampen his spirits, Seungcheol shoots him a look that says: Just like that? If it’s this easy, then I should sleep with the boss, too.

To which Jisoo sends back a glare sharp enough to kill that says: The difference between us is that I’m right whether or not I’m getting railed by the boss. You’re getting reported to HR.

***

And when Jeonghan dismisses them, everyone files out of the room. Upon his exit, Seungcheol slips his tongue out, scrunching his whole face to mock Jisoo, who is asked to stay behind.

Joke’s on him—Jisoo wants to stay behind.

“You already wanted Seokmin to do it, right?” Jisoo says, resting his chin on his hand propped on the table as he grins cheekily at Jeonghan. “You already had a plan.”

Jeonghan tugs at his hand. The room is significantly quiet now that everyone is gone. Finally. Some time with him.

“The idea was somewhere in the back of my mind,” he admits as he tugs again, this time with more force that Jisoo lets him be pulled, standing up to claim his place.

“Then why make us debate over it?” His tone tells Jeonghan that he knows it’s not even that big of an assignment.

Brushing his bangs out of his eyes, Jeonghan pulls him to a kiss that doesn’t last long enough for the both of them, mumbling against his lips, “I had to find an excuse to get you to spend time with me here.”

If Jisoo had any more questions, well, they’re down the drain now. “ Really? In a conference room?” Jisoo asks as he casually finds his seat back on Jeonghan’s lap, straddling him as his boost of confidence takes over him. Jeonghan’s hands welcome his behind, firmly holding him in place, hungrily pressing open-mouthed kisses on Jisoo’s neck as soon as he could. “What if someone sees?”

“What makes you think I don’t want them to see?” Jeonghan growls low as he sucks on the skin of his jaw, coaxing goosebumps to rise on Jisoo’s skin. It’s only been a few nights, but there’s no doubt that he missed this.

Jisoo tries to come up with a reason, just to act stubborn, but then Jeonghan’s fingers are rubbing his nipples through his shirt, and fuck him if he can still think straight.

Jisoo lets out a whine, sensitive nubs rubbing against Jeonghan’s purposeful fingers through the fabric, as Jeonghan claims his mouth to drown out any sounds he keeps on making. Beneath him, he can already feel the older’s bulge—not quite hard, but the way it’s so huge it protrudes is not something to joke about—digging in his clothed ass, reminding him exactly of what he missed during his boyfriend’s absence.

And then he feels himself getting lifted up, only to be settled back down on the table, Jeonghan pushing his thighs apart as he coils their tongues together.

The cold conference room doesn’t feel so cold now with Jeonghan’s hands and mouth all over him.

And Jeonghan can’t wait anymore because last night had been a difficult night for him—Jisoo moaning his name, and all he could hear from the other line was vague squelching sounds—

It would’ve been better if it were him inside Jisoo and not a dildo that barely makes up for his size is all.

Jeonghan pushes him down, the broad expanse of Jisoo's back, meeting the cold, stony surface of the huge conference room table. Heat travels south as he finds his wrists pinned overhead, Jeonghan eclipsing the bright lights of the room.

And this way he can see the carnal desire in his eyes better.

Jeonghan lifts a hand to Jisoo’s growing erection, bending down to his ears, letting his teeth graze at the shell before letting out a low whisper, “You were so naughty when I was away.”

Jisoo keens, at those words, back arching against the table as Jeonghan’s hand palms him through his slacks. The friction is welcome, but it’s not enough—he needs more .

“Say it,” Jeonghan urges, unbuckling his belt as he pulls back to watch Jisoo. And being under that piercing gaze has never failed to send the younger into a frenzy. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m—I’m yours ,” Jisoo breathes out, chasing more of that touch, but Jeonghan seems to want to make the night longer—

Wait.

He can’t. Not tonight .

Jeonghan is in the process of getting rid of Jisoo’s pants when the younger tries to shimmy the grip on his wrists off, “No—No, Hannie, we can’t—”

“No?” When has he ever had the right to say no? Chuckling, Jeonghan presses a kiss to his lips, cutting him off. “Stop worrying. I’ll be gentle, no one will hear you.”

“No—No. That’s not it,” Jisoo manages to get his grip to loosen. He sits back up abruptly, black spots clouding his vision for a moment before he regains sense of his surroundings.

Jeonghan sports a jumbled look on his face. What is it now?

“The get-together,” Jisoo says as if that will explain everything. Jeonghan’s ears ring at that term.

It’s so… corny.

“So? Let’s reschedule.” Jeonghan moves to push him back down, gently guiding his head so it doesn’t hit the table, and with the way he’s gazing so intently in Jisoo’s eyes, lust so evident, Jisoo kind of falls for it.

But not quite.

“No—I—” This time, Jisoo zips his pants back up. “I have to prepare our home.” Despite how he’s punishing himself by refusing the sex splayed on the table (literally), he can’t help blushing at the mention of the home they share. “I still have to order pizza and stock up on beer and soda.”

“It’s just Hoshi and Chan,” Jeonghan sighs. This is ridiculous . “They can suck on their thumbs for all I care.”

“It’s Seokmin’s first time,” Jisoo replies distractedly, “I’m not sure what he likes.”

Jeonghan falls silent, but Jisoo doesn’t notice as he peers at his wristwatch.

“Crap, it’s almost six. I only have a few hours to tidy up.” Standing up to make himself look appropriate for the workplace, he finally notices that he’s the only one talking. “Jeonghan?”

“You invited a new recruit to our home?”

“He’s not just a new recruit—” He almost spilled about Seokmin being Hoshi’s boyfriend. Jisoo takes a moment to remind himself that it’s not his place to let Jeonghan know. He’s loyal to him, yes, but he respects Hoshi’s love. It’s something they have in common right now.

He doesn’t even know why he feels defensive about Seokmin, anyway. Why is he like this?

Jisoo tries again, this time, with thoughts cleared up. “Look,” he starts, straightening Jeonghan’s coat, hands easily going through the creases on his clothes as if to placate the clan head. “I’ll make it up to you as soon as they leave.”

Jeonghan quirks an eyebrow, the crease between his forehead softening. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be—”

It’s not a presupposed gesture, one that no one expects when they’re plainly talking with someone. When Jeonghan’s hand moved oh so gently, he expects a stroke on the cheek, a soft brush of his hair, or even a gentle flick on his forehead.

What he doesn’t expect is Jeonghan’s hand curling around his throat.

There’s no pressure, he’s not hurting Jisoo, but the action is so unforeseen, so out of the blue, that Jisoo feels some form of danger, alarm bells blaring in his head.

But Jeonghan's face... even if he can't understand that expression, it's still so... tender. Almost peaceful.

“You sure you wouldn’t regret saying no to me now?”

Jeonghan lifts his hand up a fraction, still keeping his hold loose. Jisoo can move, can get away from this frightening touch, but Jisoo’s also petrified and stuck in an insecurity —a series of random, silly thoughts that challenges him.

What if he chokes you to death right now?

How would you feel?

What would you do?

Chills running down his spine, he follows Jeonghan’s movement, standing on his tiptoes as Jeonghan gently holds his neck in the air. The conference room is cold, after all. Jisoo shouldn’t have fallen for the false sense of warmth.

To make light of the situation he’s in, Jisoo forces out a laugh, gulping as he anticipates some force, but no—Jeonghan’s grip remains loose as his face remains indecipherable.

“I-I won’t. You won’t do anything to h-hurt me.”

With that, Jeonghan drops his hold at his throat, immediately reaching for Jisoo’s hand and interlacing their fingers. He brings it to his lips, kissing the back of his hand.

“That’s right,” Jeonghan drawls, pressing another peck, soft and soothing. Jisoo takes the gentleness as a silent apology for holding him like that.

Though it's important to note how Jeonghan doesn’t particularly look regretful about it.

“I won’t," Jisoo repeats, breathlessly, evidently unnerved despite the sweet, shaky smile he tries to pull, "I promise."

Chapter Text

Their lives are tied to crimes. Every waking moment, there is a relentless need to strike down anything that comes in the way of their empire, to preserve the greatness and the glory and all of the generational integrity and honor—the fruits of the blood, sweat, and tears of all the previous heads of the clan.

And such an enormous thing tied to the lives of the clan members—both the ones whose powers keep it embedded on the soils of the earth and the ones whose measly lives are disposable—can be demanding, weighing down the people who dedicate their lives safeguarding the Yoon name.

So, Jisoo is grateful that Jeonghan lets indoor activities be his thing.

When Chan enters the penthouse, a six-pack carton of beer in his hand, and he’s wearing a casual tee and jogging pants, their home feels a little more human. When Mingyu hunches over the bowl of nachos on the dining table, it’s different from his usual stance in front of the doors of the corporation. When Hoshi is lazing around on the couch, it’s not any different from is usual lazing around, but his eyes are more relaxed, dangerous glint nowhere to be found with his guard down because this place is safe.

It’s warm. This is just one of the tiny moments Jisoo get to treasure.

Before this, Jeonghan was in charge, the clan head preferring a formal dinner in their home with just the clan directors. But that’s boring , in Jisoo’s opinion, and all they ever talk about is work .

While he respects the business, that’s not much of a social activity than it is a corporate meeting. An opening for Jisoo to take over the get-togethers came in the form of a business trip Jeonghan had to make.

Let’s just say it’s easier for Jisoo to tell him what he wants over Facetime calls.

And since then, he established this new tradition—tradition must start from somewhere, right? A monthly practice of getting together with the clan directors, the operating unit and some of their immediate security (Mingyu will sulk at him for days if he failed to squeeze him in the small guest list) that work directly under the hyung-nim.

Jisoo tried maybe to let the lower ranks in, but one look from Jeonghan is enough to tell him that he’s pushing it. But, hey, he let Seokmin in. That’s a win, isn’t it?

“Hyung-nim is your boss?” The curious lilt in Seokmin’s voice is precious as he stares at Seungcheol, a treasured director, with wide eyes. “But you’re older than him?”

There’s a fond look in Seungcheol’s eyes when he talks to Seokmin, the innocent energy catching up to him. “Yes, well,” he scratches at his head, not used to people pointing that out. Seokmin’s a different case, maybe because he hasn’t properly known Jeonghan. “He’s the previous head’s son. No one can top that and the training he got. He was born for this.”

People assume that just because Jisoo walks beside Jeonghan, he’s automatically the right-hand man. In reality, there’s not much he knows about the inner workings of both the corporation and the organization. He’s probably as good as the operating unit, taking commands and doing exactly as instructed. No one can run both faces of the business without the guidance of the hyung-nim like Choi Seungcheol does.

“But we work in ranks right?”

Jisoo chimes in, his chest swelling with pride when he says, “We value the reward system, of course. He’ll just rise through ranks if you put him at the lowest.”

“Oh,” Seokmin’s eyes turn into crescents, “I guess he’s just really great. And kinda scary. I think I felt my heart drop at the meeting earlier. ”

Well, there’s really no use denying that. “He can be tough, but he knows best.”

“Will you two stop hogging my boyfriend?” Hoshi grumbles, squeezing himself in between Jisoo and Seokmin on the sofa. Seokmin’s hand instinctively reaches out for Hoshi, but the latter promptly hides their entwined hands behind a throw pillow, and Jisoo fears Seokmin will lash out in a fit of annoyance—

But Seokmin only smiles, his head dropping on his boyfriend’s shoulders, muttering how cute he is acting all shy like that.

Jisoo sometimes forgets that other relationships are different from his. Maybe Seokmin likes it hidden now, too.

Seungcheol shakes his head at the sight. Among all of the directors, he’s the least uptight with the subordinates—spending time with them as much as he can, making sure that everyone is well, warranting that all parts of the business are working smoothly. But Jisoo can feel the distance—the director is sitting across them on a different chair even if the sofa has room for five. It would be nice to stay closer to family, Jisoo muses, but he catches the way Seungcheol’s eyes dart to where Jeonghan would be, and he somehow gets it.

There was a time when Jisoo was newly introduced to the family, when he was still known as the whore the heir took in , when everything was still overwhelming and Jeonghan’s father eyes him with so much interest that it felt restricting to even breathe in that house—and Seungcheol, as Jeognhan’s chief assistant, was there to help him through it. More than just following orders, Jisoo knew he cared as a friend. All he can remember is him falling unconscious in Seungcheol’s arms because the combat training was rigorous, just like it always was.

The wrong place at the wrong time—Jeonghan found them like that.

And he was furious to say the least.

Jisoo doesn’t know what happened after as he was kept in the dark, but he never saw Seungcheol until the day Jisoo was invested with a title at one of the Yoon clan blood pacts. And now, it’s almost as if they’re strangers, only interacting through a series of insults and playful, competitive jabs, but never more.

Maybe they were never really friends before. Maybe Jisoo just imagined it all. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not like anyone knows him the way Jeonghan does.

Maybe he was too focused on rising to the top to be someone worthy of being with Jeonghan that he forgot to open up to others. Not that he regrets it, but it seems like the self is the common link in all of his problems.

The distance between them tonight seems to be confirming it for him. With nothing to talk about, with the quiet, comfortable atmosphere of the penthouse, it’s not like he can just start bickering with him out of nowhere in an attempt to revive the lost friendship.

“I’m gonna go get a beer,” Hoshi announces aloud, standing up only to stop after a thought, “Cheol-hyung, come with me.”

“Why?”

Hoshi huffs, hands coming up to his waist and rolling his eyes like Seungcheol is dumb for not getting it, “The stuff are in the kitchen, duh .”

Jisoo’s eyes trail to where the kitchen is. That’s right. They’ll have to pass by the open bar where Jeonghan currently is.

“You’re scared to go alone, aren’t you?” Seungcheol snickers.

“I didn’t say anything like that at all,” Hoshi mutters under his breath, stomping harder than he should as he makes his way to the kitchen. Seungcheol stands and follows him anyway, fully aware of the presence of the hyung-nim as well.

“Get me a soda while you’re at it, Hoshi-hyung!” Chan calls after them.

“I only have willpower for myself. Cheol-hyung will get it for you.”

Jeonghan’s eyes are trained on the glass of what seems to be liquor in his hand, so Jisoo gets a chance to look at him.

He’s like a dark angel—he’s ruthless and cold, and the best the others could get out of him when he’s in a good mood is a smug smile that make him look even more unattainable. But with Jisoo, he’s different. He smiles sweetly. He strokes his hair with one gentle hand while he firmly holds Jisoo against his body with another. He says all these words that hit Jisoo so hard with a voice so soft , so hypnotizing. He can get protective and hostile against anything he deems dangerous, but Jeonghan is always right. To Jisoo, he’s perfection.

And when perfection is smiling at you, stroking your hair, holding you firmly, kissing you senselessly—you’re bound to feel special. Jisoo does.

But earlier… That’s the first time in their relationship that Jeonghan did something like that.

Maybe Jeonghan’s just riled up. Jisoo did turn him down when Jeonghan missed him so much.

He shouldn’t have done that.

“What’s it like dating the hyung-nim?” Seokmin says as he watches Jisoo’s mellow face turned at his boyfriend. Jisoo jolts out of the trance, and Seokmin can’t help thinking it’s adorable how the Paragon acts like this around the man he loves. “Come on! You can tell me. I’m your friend, right?”

“It’s—It’s pretty nice,” Jisoo mumbles, heart-warming a great deal as he hears the word friend . It feels surreal. “He takes care of me well. He’s like Hoshi…” he offers, trying to make Seokmin relate to him, “…in a way.”

Seokmin doubts his boyfriend is anything like the clan head, but if Jisoo thinks so.

“You’re so lucky.”

Jisoo has this knowing look on his face, eyes faltering as he looks down, “Y-Yeah. I really don’t know what he sees in me—"

Seemingly affronted by that, Seokmin suddenly blurts out, “You’re just as great as he is, I bet!”

“Sure,” so he says, but he sounds unsure , and Seokmin doesn’t like how he looks like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. It’s a complete different Jisoo from the one he saw earlier in one of the missions. That Jisoo works alone, confident as he glides around fighting, wielding only a gun, a dagger strapped somewhere hidden. He does not take orders from anyone other than the hyung-nim. Sometimes, when he really has to take the reins, he spits out orders like he is the head.

The Jisoo in front of him right now, clad in comfortable clothes, doesn't seem self-assured at all. If anything, he looks…

He looks more himself, oddly enough. It feels like the killing machine is just a front, like this Jisoo and the Jisoo at the movie theater is the real one.

The air around them turns somber, and Seokmin feels a little guilty for running his mouth, so he tries to liven it up again with whatever tricks he has up his sleeve.

“Wanna see a magic trick?”

Jisoo’s eyes twinkle a little, bobbing his head as the thoughts leave his head almost immediately yet temporarily, and Seokmin feels better now that he’s lighten up again. “You can do one?”

“Yep,” Seokmin grins, holding out his hands, “Give me your hand.”

“What?” Looking wary, Jisoo squints at him. It’s just the instinct to remain cautious. “Why?”

But Seokmin’s smile is unwavering and genuine, and Jisoo can’t help lowering his guard when he’s with someone so nice.

“Trust me.”

***

Traditions waned the moment Yoon Jeonghan superseded his father as clan head. Ceremonies are now more for show than for function, performative at best. Rites of initiation became an evaluation of efficiency and effectiveness rather than the customary test of courage and honor. The current boss valued logic more than the intricate gold embellishments of the past. If a gun can kill in a millisecond, why take a minute to unsheathe the clan’s thousand-year-old sword?

There is no room for mistakes, not when you took all the time to perfect a plan. Fast, clean, and with purpose—that is how he wants the business to be. That is what his late father failed to do, after all.

“Get me a soda while you’re at it, Hoshi-hyung!” Chan yells from where he is seated on the rug of Jeonghan and Jisoo’s home, looking more child-like as he hunches over with a Nintendo Switch in his hands.

“I only have willpower for myself. Cheol-hyung will get it for you,” comes the grunt from Hoshi who seems to be being dragging his feet to the kitchen while Seungcheol trails behind. Everyone else is fixated on whatever, and Jeonghan finds himself alone behind the open bar of the penthouse, nursing a glass of whiskey for himself while the others have their fill on beers and sodas.

Tonight is undeniably rowdy for his taste, much to his displeasure. Parties, dinners—he would rather keep it conventional with only the directors, the backbone of the clan, but Jisoo…

Jisoo has other thoughts.

He thought that it was too cold, too distant, that they should not build a wall between them and their subordinates, that there should be loyalty —and loyalty is born into the family.

Clan head , Jisoo would look up at him expectantly with those twinkling eyes to make his point, exasperation gracing his gentle features. You’re the father of the family. Be good to your kids.

They’re not my kids, Jeonghan longed to reply with, but with Jisoo looking forward to prepping the place for his dream get-together , no matter how irritating that sounds, he can’t do much about it, knowing his angel will sulk.

It would be too much of a request—one that would entail punishment—if it came from someone, anyone else. But Jisoo says it with so much faith in Jeonghan that he cannot help overindulging his angel despite how much it irks him to see lower-ranking members passing beer bottles across the room and playing games on consoles like they did not just massacre groups of people under his command just a couple of days ago. With what power he has, one word and this would disperse, but one look at Jisoo seated on the sofa, laughing behind a timid hand at whatever Chan just blurt out…

Well, Jeonghan did forego tradition on the business level, so how much different is this from that? It makes Jisoo happy.

Although, he has been asking for more than Jeonghan is willing to allow lately. Is Jisoo dissatisfied about something?

Is this defiance?

“Are you moping?” A deep voice chuckles. His eyes tear their gaze away from Jisoo to acknowledge the newcomer. “Never thought I’d see the day Yoon Jeonghan would mope in a college frat party.”

Jeonghan snorts at that, taking a swig of the liquor in his hand, deliberately ignoring the comment about his moping . “This isn’t that, Wonwoo . This feels more like cousins visiting their grandparents and creating a ruckus.”

“Now that is something I can relate to,” Wonwoo stands beside him behind the bar, arms crossed on his chest as he watches the kids play in the living room. “I forgot you and Seungcheol were the ones who had the most party experience.”

The words have truth to them, Jeonghan would not deny that. His college days were filled with drugs, alcohol, and dark tomfoolery that his father’s men cleaned up for him. Those were the days he felt… hollow.

Empty , knowing he couldn’t have what he wanted at the time. And for not having what he wanted, Jeonghan spite the world by giving himself everything else other people wanted.

And if Wonwoo’s memory serves him right, Seungcheol landed some punches on their good friend on one of those parties over a girl . Jeonghan always had that urge to take whatever is on Seungcheol’s plate just to feel something.

“We were young,” comes the curt reply. Wonwoo raises a brow but does not press him further, noticing the change of air around him. The part where he pushed Seungcheol’s buttons was hilarious, but the reminder of the bottomless void in him before he found Jisoo—it is not a particularly good memory.

But then, his eyes drift back to his angel, and the air turns even more glacial.

Awestruck with his mouth agape, Jisoo watches with pure interest as the man he was talking to takes his hand, rubbing it from time to time, swirling his fingers around it—for what, Jeonghan doesn’t know. Jisoo’s smile is genuine—clear and unalloyed, unknowingly mocking Jeonghan with the fact that there is another man that can make him smile like that, touch him that easily.

It is a good thing Wonwoo is looking elsewhere at that second because the emotion that crosses his eyes will make anyone’s blood run cold.

Jeonghan’s instinct is to draw his gun and shoot the man right in the middle of the forehead. But Wonwoo follows his gaze, lips stretching into a smile as he sees Seokmin animatedly talking to Jisoo, and that reminds him that he has not been personally acquainted with the clan head.

“That’s my brother.”

His eyes trained to the sight before him, Jeonghan tries to keep his face unreadable, his voice free of malice.

An director’s brother. That changes the game.

If Jeonghan cares, perhaps.

“Why did you let him come to the family?”

“He has nothing right now, but I know he’ll find something here. I did,” the director replies, oblivious to the boss’ stewing temper. “His name is Lee Seokmin—but I usually call him by his nickname, DK.”

Jeonghan quirks an inquisitive eyebrow at that, keeping up the appearances of never hearing about him before, “Lee? Different fathers?”

“Mothers,” Wonwoo answers right away. “I took my mom’s last name, and he took our dad’s. We’re not really that close. I’m just helping him get back to his feet.”

With a carefully crafted interested look on Jeonghan’s face, he hums in consideration. Seokmin’s hand is not on Jisoo’s anymore, but the way he spreads himself on the couch next to Jisoo, an arm thrown behind his angel’s back makes venom run through his veins.

As if the sight is not intolerable enough, Seokmin’s hand comes up to brush something off Jisoo’s naïve face, something Jeonghan cannot see from a distance, fingertips gently touching, barely grazing the tops of Jisoo’s cheek.

It’s more than enough reason for Jeonghan to want to dump his corpse in a creek.

“I don’t remember assigning medical care to Jisoo.” Jeonghan takes another sip of whiskey, the burn on his throat long forgotten, and the warmth that it brings in him fuels the fire more. “How do they know each other so well?”

Wonwoo shrugs—an action caught from his periphery. “Must be a mission together. That, or Jisoo needed treatment and didn’t tell you.”

His eyebrows meet, annoyance evident in his voice, “Well, why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to worry you.” Hand clasping his tense shoulder, Wonwoo chuckles, “If you’re jealous, don’t be. DK’s a little too dewy-eyed to go after Jisoo. Besides, everyone knows Jisoo is dating the boss.”

That is where Wonwoo is wrong.

Jisoo attracts all the good in the world because he himself is good. He can wipe out an entire bloodline all on his own, and still, the guilt and burden lies in Jeonghan. Everything Jisoo did, he did out of reverence, out of faithfulness to Jeonghan, and aside from Jeonghan, no one else knows—not even Jisoo himself.

All this information Wonwoo thinks would help Jeonghan get over it just digs a deeper grave for his brother.

He lets the conversation be led away by Wonwoo’s prattling about the financial side of the shipments—the director’s strong suit. In other words, work . If Jisoo can hear him, Jeonghan will not hear the end of it.

Jisoo whines sometimes, and the younger hasn’t noticed that detail about himself.

No work talk in my home, please?

Don’t grip my hips too hard, please?

Please don’t yell.

Sometimes it’s endearing, other times…

Jeonghan would rather slam his cock down his throat to shut him up.

As if Jisoo hears Jeonghan think about him, their eyes meet, connecting over the head of Wonwoo's brother, who is high-spirited as he tells Jisoo more stories, and for a second Jeonghan forgets the mistrust—the green eating him alive.

The cashmere sweater, cartoon socks, and casual pair of jeans he’s wearing makes him look softer, mild and sympathetic—a stark contrast to his image as the Paragon.

A reminder of everything he truly is before , without Jeonghan. And the mere view of him wrenches at the clan head’s heart, milking it of every possible emotion he never thought he had.

Like a thief in the night, Jeonghan winks , catching Jisoo by surprise, gauging from the way his eyes widen a fraction in response. Jeonghan leaves it at that with a smirk playing on his lips—a silent warning, Remember that you won’t regret it.

A warning of what is there to come.

Judging by the way the younger’s face casts down in unease, it seems like Jeonghan got the message across.

With lithe fingers, Jeonghan tugs at his hair non too gently. He can’t see anything as he is flipped onto his belly, a black cloth tied around his eyes. He can’t move freely either with the cold leather belt keeping his wrists together. The most Jisoo could do right now is whimper and squirm, wrenching against the pillows underneath him.

His teeth dig a little too hard on his lower lip as the pads of Jeonghan’s fingers inside him brush against that spot, driving him crazy by grazing it a little only to pull back. Every shiver, every grunt that he barely lets out is enough for Jeonghan to know that he’s being pushed to the limit, and Jeonghan has every intention to make him feel his love so much that he wouldn’t want anyone else.

“—Jeonghan— ah!”

“I told you to be quiet,” Jeonghan softly hums in his ear, yet the underlying tone of his words sounds more of a threat, tongue darting out to lick at his lobe. “I’m not that patient, baby.”

The words ricochet through him, and it may be in his nature to struggle, to show that he’s stubborn, but when Jeonghan’s fingers are fucking in him so deep and yet not enough, Jisoo is compelled to obey, pressing his lips tight.

It’s slick—his inner walls tighten as the fingers inside him drag against them, and it’s not enough to send him to heaven, but it’s enough to have him lose his mind. He tries his best to keep the moans to a minimum, to shut up, but Jeonghan’s making it difficult for him, and he’s fully aware that this is Jeonghan’s intention from the beginning.

He wants him to break, to disobey over and over and over because he can’t take it anymore.

“Please,” Jisoo pants, back arching as he tries to fuck himself back to Jeonghan’s fingers, to no avail. He’s too weak and too restrained. “Please, Jeonghan, please—I’m—”

And there it is—Jisoo’s eyes widen, watering at the corners and wetting the fabric around them as he bucks forward. The force of the slap to his ass shocks him before he could even realize that it stings .

Jeonghan never did this before, never hit him in and out of bed, so the action came as a surprise.

It’s not like the hand around his throat earlier—no. This one’s not bad , and Jisoo doesn’t hate it, but it came from nowhere, it leaves him dazed, head swirling in hunger for more.

“I spoiled you too much,” is all Jeonghan says about it, presuming the younger isn’t all that bothered since their safe word wasn’t thrown in the air. “Always asking for more than what I’m already giving you,” he mutters, pulling his fingers out of Jisoo’s hole. Jisoo tries to move back and chase them, but anything he tries is futile against the confinement. “Are you trying to make me angry?”

“N-No—”

Jeonghan yanks his hair back forcefully, and Jisoo curls backward, the beautiful lines of his tan back put on display all for the clan head to salivate all over. “No, what?”

“No, sir ,” he sobs as he feels the head of Jeonghan’s cock tease his eager hole. The pressure is there, and if Jisoo moves more, if he can just press against it more —

The scream that Jisoo lets out when Jeonghan shoves his girth in up to the hilt is immoral . The sound makes Jeonghan chuckle, dipping forwards to lick at Jisoo’s sweaty neck.

Another experimental slap lands on his ass, and Jisoo keens upon contact, the sharpness of the pain and the absence of control over his sight heightening his senses.

“P-Please…”

“You enjoy what I do to you, don’t you?” Jeonghan lets go of his hair, gripping his hips with both hands as he pummels inside him like there’s no tomorrow, like the goal is to keep Jisoo in bed the next day. Jisoo’s torso falls forward to the mattress, his elbows catching him on time, but even that is laborious, so he just drops to his chest, keeping his hands tied above his head with his ass up on the air, and his head tilted to one side as Jeonghan takes, and takes, and takes .

“I do—” Jisoo’s mindless mumbling was cut short by his own wail as the tip of Jeonghan’s cock brushes against his prostate, his untouched dick leaking onto the sheets, “ Fuck! I do…I do —”

Every thrash of Jeonghan’s rough palms against his ass cheeks as he shoves his cock in drives Jisoo insane. He gives up gritting his teeth and lets himself succumb to the brutal fucking, drool dripping out of his open mouth to his cheek as he makes sounds that are unearthly but still music to Jeonghan’s ears.

He means to tell Jeonghan he loves him, that he doesn’t have anything to be angry about, but all that escapes him are gibberish as he’s fucked brainless.

Jeonghan is merciless with his pounding, and the younger can tell that his release slowly building up at the bottom of his stomach with how much the impact of his thrusts are increasing. Jisoo can feel his own release, too, just waiting for Jeonghan to allow his floodgates to open.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to wait long for the command. Bending down, Jeonghan breathes heavily against his ears, “Cum for me.” Jeonghan slips his tongue in the younger’s pliant, open mouth, tangling it with Jisoo’s. And Jisoo doesn’t have to think twice about the demand, the blunt tip of his leaking cock rubbing against the bed in time with Jeonghan’s rough thrusts and Jeonghan’s girth stretching him open are enough to send him spilling on the sheets with an inhumane scream of Jeonghan’s name.

Jeonghan keeps on pounding into him, not slowing down as he chases his own release. Jisoo still manages to tighten up at his words, and it should be impossible because he’s spent and there’s nothing else he can handle after that , but—

“I love you so much,” Jeonghan moans deep, delighting in the clench of Jisoo’s slick walls around him, “You have no idea to what limits I’d go to prove that to you.”

Several harsher thrusts and Jeonghan is coming inside, fervent and in the raw, and Jisoo can feel the inside of his ass become wetter as Jeonghan pumps all of his cum in him, not letting a drop spill out.

Jeonghan pulls out of him, and the loss of contact lets cold air graze Jisoo’s bare, sensitive skin, giving time for Jisoo to realize that he’s scared .

Shuddering, he whimpers as tears soak the blindfold around his eyes, “J-Jeonghan?” He calls out in a small voice, his throat overworked with how much he was screaming earlier.

Jeonghan tuts, palm smoothing the skin of his ass, checking for any damage. When he’s pretty positive that the red welts on Jisoo’s ass cheeks won’t bruise tomorrow, he moves to take the blindfold off, unclasping the belt that binds his wrists afterwards.

Jisoo doesn’t move—he remains placid, bone-tired.

“I’m here,” he affirms as he turns him around, scooping Jisoo up in a comfortable embrace on the bed. He’ll clean them up later when Jisoo catches his breath.

Air hits Jisoo’s front as he’s flipped on his back, his head resting on Jeonghan’s chest with his boyfriend’s arms around him just the way he likes it. His wrists and throat are sore, and his eyes blinking rapidly as they adjust to the low light of the lamp on the side table, but Jeonghan’s firm nestling is grounding . He feels secure in it despite the tension inside him that makes him feel helpless—like he has done something unforgivable.

“Why are you mad at me?”

He sounds vulnerable, voice cracking as he tries to keep his swollen eyes open. With him staring at Jeonghan like this, the boss can’t find it in himself to lie this time.

“I’m not —” Jeonghan sucks a breath in annoyance, but the soothing rubs on Jisoo’s back and shoulders are a contradiction the younger can’t quite understand. “It’s nothing. Don’t think about it.”

“But you were angry,” Jisoo pushes because he has to at least comprehend why Jeonghan is in one of his moods . If he had done something bad, he should know, so he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “You did that thing.”

He’s talking about the spanking. There had been a few instances when he’d been tied up in bed like this, Jeonghan cooing about how he looks sexy like that, so it’s not a total surprise when it happened tonight, but spanking—

He doesn’t hate it, but he it never crossed his mind that Jeonghan would do it.

With a raised brow, he asks, “Did you not like it? You said you wouldn’t regret anything.”

Jisoo’s eyes are blown. “Of course I like it! I always like what you do to me.” He lets his head fall on Jeonghan’s chest again, too tired to keep himself upright. Sighing, he let an arm drape round Jeonghan’s waist as he adds, “If you’re upset about something I did, I want to know,” he tips his head slightly, insecure eyes staring up at Jeonghan’s stoic ones, “So I can do better.”

Jeonghan is about to tell him to drop it. He crafted this persona that obliges Jisoo to think of him as his benevolent king. Saying, ‘ I wanted to gouge the new recruit’s eye out in front of everyone earlier ,’ will probably make Jisoo fear him plainly—and that’s not the kind of fear he’s going for. And telling him to just give it up and sleep would just make the younger tread carefully around him.

Jeonghan takes another long look at those worried eyes.

What a fucking pain in the ass.

He fucked him thoroughly and good —how is he not tired yet?

“I wasn’t mad, love ,” he says, purposively using the pet name and softening his gaze at will. That doesn’t ease the crease between Jisoo’s brows, so he leans in for a chaste kiss.

Jisoo is reeling at the softness, relaxing under the touch. Ghosting his lips over the younger’s, Jeonghan slowly pulls away, flashing him a dashing smile.

“If you’re not angry, then what was the punishment for?”

He’s not going to let this go, is he?

“That wasn’t a punishment,” Jeonghan murmurs, dropping his forehead against Jisoo’s, “I was just teaching you a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

Jeonghan smiles, one that Jisoo can hear. This time he sprinkles in some truth when he says, “That you’re mine.”

He doesn’t know how that’s enough of an explanation with how insistent Jisoo was earlier, but Jisoo smiles, tired and warm, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I’m yours,” he whispers, mindlessly yet naturally repeating the words over and over in his head. Jeonghan runs a hand along the length of his waist as he leans in for another kiss.

When his hand wanders to Jisoo’s warm, tender ass cheeks, the younger lets out a pained hiss. He can sense that Jisoo still has questions to ask, but he has to be content with that for now.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

***

The shower they took was slow, soft and sensual as Jeonghan lathers soap all over Jisoo’s exhausted body. From time to time, they would get lost in heated make out sessions that don’t last long enough for another round—Jeonghan can go for a few more, but seeing Jisoo wrecked like this reminds him that he can’t initiate or else the younger won’t have enough energy to hear what he has to say later.

Afterwards, he dries him up and applies soothing cream on his bottom. Jisoo hums in appreciation, the gentle massages feel so good.

Jisoo is all dressed up in his favorite pajama set, rubbing his eyes drowsily, blow-dried hair flopping limp on his forehead, when Jeonghan, who’s in one of his shirts and boxers—not a fan of sleeping with clothing—helps him get in bed. The clan head slips in next to him, eye to eye. They stay like that for a moment.

The peace almost lulls Jisoo to sleep, and after all the crying earlier, it’s warranted. But Jeonghan has other plans.

There’s nothing that could have ever prepared Jisoo for what comes next.

Moving gently, Jeonghan brings a hand in front of Jisoo’s sleepy face. And for a moment, Jisoo stares, eyes half-lidded with how much sleep is reeling him in. It has been a long night, and in some more hours the sun will peek through the curtains, so all he wants to do is sleep—

Something is sparkling. He blinks a few more, eyes focusing on the thing in front of him, and when he realizes just what it is, Jisoo’s eyes widen as he gasps softly.

Jeonghan is holding a ring to his face—a thin band of gold with what seems like a diamond gleaming in the middle.

And it’s beautiful.

“What—What is that? ”

Jeonghan laughs without meaning to because he’s so adorable, all muddled like this. He takes Jisoo’s slack left hand, slipping the band of gold on the finger he measured long, long ago—when Jisoo first slept in bed with him.

“Didn’t you say you wanted a wedding by the beach?”

Adrenaline pumps through Jisoo’s veins as he abruptly sits up, gawking at the ring on his finger, the white glint diamond winking at him. It’s beautiful. Mouth agape, he looks at the deep affection gracing Jeonghan’s face, and then at the ring, and then back at Jeonghan, and then —

“J-Jeonghan, is this…? Are you—” He tries to form a single coherent question, but his mind is just blank . “Are you…?”

The sight before him is endearing, but—well, Jeonghan played the long game for too long already. He only has so much patience.

He moves, towering over Jisoo as he rolls on top of him, pinning him on the bed. He braces his arms on the sides of Jisoo’s head, holding his eyes locked in a profound gaze.

“Remember what I told you the first night I held you?”

He does.

It was on his first night as a whore when he met Yoon Jeonghan. He remembers the night so vividly—he was wearing a robe, naked underneath, his hair styled out of his face. The cabaret owner, a musty old man, staring him down like Jisoo was a delicacy he got to taste first. There was a hand on his shoulder, running down slowly to his waist, and Jisoo was prepared to be desecrated that night. It was about time.

Until a man in a three-piece suit appeared, walking into the establishment like he owned it, looking out of place because in a sea of gray-haired, bald, cash rich sickos, he was fresher, younger .

But his appearance was somehow a blessing to Jisoo. The cabaret owner tore his attention off him to focus on the young man—no younger than nineteen-year-old Jisoo—who was a potential customer to be smooth - talked into purchasing one of his escorts.

The man pointed at Jisoo, of all people, and asked for his services. The cabaret owner warned him that Jisoo was inexperienced, that he hasn’t broken him in just yet.

But Yoon Jeonghan, with his wilting gaze and firm utterance, insisted that he wanted him out of everyone. Jisoo couldn’t understand why.  Maybe it was because he was young, too.

He spent the night in the finest bed his back has ever touched, with a man who showed him gentleness beyond comprehension, touches light and warm and fiery and deep all at once. His first time, he recalls dramatically, was not painful, not uncomfortable, not the end of his life.

It wasn’t so bad—selling yourself for a price.

And when he woke up the next day, a little sore and unexpectedly cozy, Yoon Jeonghan didn’t pay him—instead, he made a promise to take care of him if and only if he chooses to leave his wretched life behind to be his personal courtesan—a flowery way to call him his sex slave, he thought, but Jisoo knew little at the time.

And the kindness was new—a foreign taste on his tongue, pleasant yet baffling because just why would this stranger want to keep him around? Jisoo still couldn’t understand why.

Why would you want to keep me around? Jisoo asked.

You might not believe it, but, the man smiles, warm lips, grazing his cold, bare shoulder, I’ve never seen anyone like you. Must be fate.

He does remember.

“Yes,” Jisoo says, staring up at him expectantly. “You said we were brought together by fate.”

One might think it’s stupid . Does he even have a concept of stranger danger? What if Yoon Jeonghan was a freak whose goal was to sell him to the black market? How shallow was he that he accepted such flowery words without a doubt?

Did his parents never tell him not to trust unfamiliar people?

To Jisoo, it wasn’t hard to believe a stranger. In fact, it was the complete opposite. He was willing to be conquered that easily, and he didn’t even know it.

He grew up with something, at least. With a family. His parents were doctors, intelligent and successful in the field of medicine—at least that’s what he remembers of them. His memories are a blur—He remembers his seventh birthday celebrated at Disneyland. He remembers the trip to the beach that they take every summer. He remembers his mom teaching him how to brush his teeth, his dad carrying him on his shoulders…

There are memories, few, indistinct memories that crosses his mind from time to time. But they’re not enough to remind him of the warmth, only the idea of it.

He remembers loving them and being loved in return. But he doesn’t remember how it felt.

The weirdest thing to him, though, is while the happy memories are hazy, blurred by time, the day everything was taken from him is vivid , brightly-colored in the back of his mind. No matter what he does to shove it in the furthest part of the closet, it springs back up—a conjuring he prays would go away.

Jisoo remembers the day his parents died as much as he forgot their faces. It was in broad daylight—in the afternoon. He was out playing in the arcade, playing hooky off school, and when he came back home...

Blood was splattered over the homey green carpets of their living room. His father was lying face down on the once-white coffee table while his mother was resting on the couch, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. They both have one thing in common: holes in their heads from where blood was spilling out.

For a long, long while, Jisoo stood there, staring.

Just staring.

Inhaling the sour notes of fresh blood and the lingering gun smoke in the air.

Staring.

Thinking maybe if he hadn’t cut class…

 If he just went to school like he was supposed to…

Maybe if I was a better son.

Maybe he could have done something.

The police told him it was probably an involuntary manslaughter. It was probably because they’re well-off. It was probably a robbery gone wrong. Jisoo, at eleven years old, did not know what any of those mean. A lady came, taking his hand and telling him all sorts of sweet things that he forgot the moment he heard them. And then he was placed in a residential institution, but when he turned eighteen, they let him go.

Days, months, years went by in a blur.

There are memories, few, indistinct memories that crosses his mind from time to time.

And then, he found Yoon Jeonghan. That was when he’s reminded of just how empty he was before.

He found Jeonghan and found the warmth that he had been trying to remember through the years.

“ Fate ,” Jeonghan mumbles in affirmation, and Jisoo’s heart swells at the memory as the clan head dips his head, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss, only to pull away, smiling against Jisoo’s lips as he whispers,

“Marry me.”

It’s not a question.

But it’s not like Jisoo will ever say no.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filters through the gaps of the curtain in their bedroom, waking Jisoo slowly as it kisses his eyelids.

Warm.

It’s really warm.

Jisoo can remember the last time he woke up this cozy, soreness settling a little in the bends of his muscles, but it’s not uncomfortable. The bed underneath him feels more supportive, and Jisoo thinks today will be better than any other days he has had.

When he turns around with his eyes still closed, away from the curtains, he didn’t think he’d see the source of all this warmth.

As Jisoo blinks the sleep away, Jeonghan’s sleeping face greets him, serene as it rests against the pillow squished between his arm and his head, his other free arm draped loosely around the younger’s waist.

It takes a moment, a short moment of admiration, and it suddenly hits Jisoo that he has never seen him sleep before.

For all of their days together, Jisoo wakes up in an empty bed with Jeonghan off to go to work, and it’s understandable because Jeonghan’s time is precious. When his boyfriend stays at home, however, and Jisoo gets to wake up to the sight of him, Jeonghan is still always the first one awake, always the one watching as Jisoo comes alive from deep slumber.

This is an absolutely rare sight. Jisoo intends to treasure this moment. He watches the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyebrows still meet a little, forming a tiny scowl on his face as he sleeps. An arm underneath the pillow is an endearing sleeping habit, in Jisoo’s opinion, and it’s a shame he’s only learning about this now. His lips are parted by a fraction, soft puffs of air coming out. It’s amazing. Yoon Jeonghan is amazing even when he sleeps.

Eyes trained on the majesty before him, Jisoo’s left hand moves to touch his face.

And there it is—the glint of the ring on his finger.

Suddenly, his insides can’t settle down. He’s getting married to Jeonghan, surreal as it sounds. He can’t help feeling giddy about it. If this is a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up.

It is nice to touch him like this. Jeonghan is always calm, face devoid of any emotion, relaxed and collected. And until now, that persona of his felt cast-iron despite the cool air around him. Like there’s no way he’s anyone other than what he appears to be. But Jisoo is staring at his face, now so calm in a way that’s not unsettling. Not the same calm face he makes when he teaches Jisoo a lesson in bed. Not the same calm face that frightens the targets he deals with himself. Not the same calm face he makes when he slices throats open—

“When are you going to kiss me?” Jisoo lets out a small gasp when Jeonghan’s eyes snap open. The hand limp on his waist is now firm as it clutches at his side, pulling him closer until their bare chests are flush together. “Are you just going to stare?”

Jisoo’s cheeks heat up at the smile Jeonghan is flashing him—gentle, full of love, that Jisoo is drowning in it, in so much of him. He smells like him, he can feel him everywhere all over his body—remnants of last night still linger all over his body like the marks on his skin and the wetness inside him that he didn’t bother thoroughly scooping out last night, too tired to care.

In a rush of want, Jisoo leans in to place a kiss on Jeonghan’s lips. It’s not always that he takes initiative like this since he’s more comfortable when Jeonghan’s holding him and taking everything he has to offer, but when he does, it’s always during times when he wants to make Jeonghan feel like he can be relied on, too.

That if there’s anything on his mind, he can tell Jisoo. That Jisoo is always on his side. That Jisoo is faithful to him, no matter what happens.

And maybe Jeonghan felt his message because the clan head relents to the kiss, letting it stay slow and simple instead of the usual ones where he devours Jisoo’s mouth until his essence is imprinted on Jisoo tongue and onto his words.

This time, Jisoo feels Jeonghan soften. He’s taking it easy.

Pulling away, Jeonghan leaves a peck on Jisoo’s forehead. “That was nice.”

“Yeah,” Jisoo giggles lightly, pink dusting his cheeks as he vocalizes his thoughts, “It’s nice waking up before you. I’ve never seen you sleep before…”

Jeonghan’s lips pull into a smile, stroking Jisoo’s hair and rubbing his scalp gently. “I figured I should sleep in and take the day off.”

“Day off?” Eyes widening, Jisoo sits up dumbfounded, “Like… not going to work?”

Jeonghan follows, his movement making the sheets pool at his waist. Jisoo tries so hard not to follow it, but it’s a lie if he says he didn’t catch the lines of Jeonghan’s abdomen. He’s his boyfriend—he’s allowed to look. Why is he even so flustered?

The clock on the bedside table tells him it’s fifteen minutes until eleven. Maybe they can have brunch together.

“Yes—Well, I do have to go see Wonwoo for something, so I’ll have to leave in thirty minutes.” Upon mentioning leaving, Jisoo’s face drops, all brunch thoughts out of the window. Of course. And it seems like the younger doesn’t notice the fall of his own mood.

Jeonghan chuckles, bring a palm to rub on Jisoo’s cheek—an action that coaxes the younger to lean to the touch adorably. “But I’ll come back after three hours. And then we can do whatever you want.”

Wait.

“Whatever I want?” Jisoo asks, his head tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”

Jeonghan steals another kiss, quick and chaste. Then, he gets to his feet, naked as he ruffles Jisoo’s hair.

“We’ll go on a date,” he says, flashing him a blinding smile.

A date. They’ve never been on one outside their home—well, aside from ones that were formal dinners with Yoon Corporation investors.

There are too many sensations that Jisoo is feeling in his gut.

For the first time. A date.

***

“I’m going,” Jeonghan says, wearing a plain black crisp button up and slacks. His outfit is a bit laxer than his usual attire, so maybe he won’t really stay long outside.

Jisoo walks up to him, kissing him on the cheek because, hey, sending your boyfriend off with a kiss on the mouth is a bit of a cliché and Jisoo is not like other boys.

But there is still this uncertainty in him that maybe Jeonghan won’t make it after all since the clan head’s job is the most sporadic out of everything. Maybe he shouldn’t be too excited—and he’s doing a great job, he thinks, at hiding his eagerness. He doesn’t want Jeonghan to unnecessarily force himself to attend to him today.

It’s not like it’s a special day or anything.

Well, they just get engaged last night, so technically…

Shaking away the selfish thoughts, Jisoo mumbles quietly, “Come back whenever you can.”

He’s hoping Jeonghan doesn’t hear it. He’s being selfish, but his true feelings is that he wants some free time with his boyfriend, okay?

Not quite satisfied with that peck, Jeonghan pulls Jisoo to him by the waist, his lips crashing against the youngers. There’s no need to force his tongue in because even if Jisoo tries so hard to convince himself that he should be considerate, his body never lies. He wants this so much he’s ready to be soft and pliant, putty in Jeonghan’s hands any time.

“I’ll be back in three hours max,” Jeonghan reaffirms as he watches Jisoo’s face turn redder at how he seems to always see through him, “So you better be ready to go out when I come back. We’ll go wherever you want.”

That put sparkles back in his eyes. A date, he thinks. They’re going on a date. And for the first time, Jisoo’s in charge of the place. No words can express how much he looks forward to this.

Jisoo takes a deep breath, nodding as he sorts out his composure, “Okay. I’ll dress up prettily.”

“That would be a piece of cake for you.”

***

As it turns out, it’s not a piece of cake for him.

“No, not that,” Hoshi sighs frustratedly from where he’s seated on the couch, “How is hyung-nim sleeping with a fashion terrorist? Does he have an ounce of self-respect? Is this how you seduce him at night?”

“Is that an insult aimed at your superior?” Jisoo narrows his eyes at him and then back at his asymmetrical moss green blazer. Tugging at the sleeves, he recalls when he got this in Paris when he was tagging along at one of Myungho’s (the third director of the clan) business, so it shouldn’t be that bad. People bought it from Paris, the land of fashionable people as far as Jisoo knows (he knows nothing), so he thought it’ll look good on him, too.

Hoshi just has zero taste.

“No, it’s an insult aimed at my superior who dresses like he’s a homeless clown,” Hoshi deadpans, to Jisoo’s horror that’s written all over his face. Hoshi is quick to dismiss that, knowing full well Jisoo won’t do anything to him. His hyung is kind as much as he is loyal to a fault. “What did you expect? You called me for help, and I’m giving my all in doing just that.”

A big, fat lie. He’s lounging on the couch with his feet propped up the center table, munching on a bag of chips that he snagged from the pantry. He barely even looks at Jisoo before throwing slander in his way.

Jisoo wants to tell him to fuck off, but he holds his tongue. He really needs help right now.

He can just give Hoshi more clean-up jobs later for this.

“Fine,” Jisoo grumbles, resisting the urge to stomp his way back to the closet, “I’ll find something else.”

After several—and he means several rounds of changing outfits and modeling them in front of this uncivilized imbecile—Jisoo gives up.

Nothing is good. Everything doesn’t fit well, and all the clothes that look good on him are the ones he wears all the time.

“Just wear something comfy! Stop trying to look desperate for dick!” Hoshi hollers from the living room like the jackass that he is.

“I’m not being des—ugh!?” he tries to scream in response, but it’s no use. Hoshi’s a force to be reckoned with, and Jisoo has to conserve his energy if he wants to stay sane enough to remember this day.

He didn’t even call him over. Hoshi just barged into his home, claiming that he knows the clan head is away and that he has something important to tell Jisoo. But then the younger went straight to the pantry and fridge, and now it seems like he’s just bored, and Jisoo has to entertain him like the superior is some kind of king’s jester.

Sighing, Jisoo puts on some comfortable clothing instead—a plain white shirt tucked in some brown slacks. He tops it off with a cozy, muted yellow cardigan because winter is just around the corner and it’s chilly outside. He doesn’t get cold easily, but he doesn’t want to rely on Jeonghan’s coat when he does. He can’t be a bother.

Some sneakers would be best, too. Comfortable clothes are so convenient, after all. He can just avoid going to fancy places—if what Jeonghan says is true. That he’s in charge of where they’ll go.

But if he ends up underdressed… well, he has been in more humiliating situations.

“Ta-da…” Jisoo walks out of the bedroom to show Hoshi what he put on with a lame wiggle of his hands. “Actually, I don’t care anymore. Give me your worst, Gordon Ramsey.”

Hoshi pauses to think. “Hmm…” And it’s so obvious that a thought crosses his idiot head because his face lights up. “You look like a honeycomb.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“But it’s not bad. I wouldn’t wear it because I’m sexy—“ Jisoo rolls his eyes “—but you somehow fit with this—” he swishes a hand around in front of Jisoo like he’s casting a spell “—aesthetic. You look like a university student.”

Heat creeps up on Jisoo’s face. You can look like a college student? How would Jisoo know? He has never been to any school since seventh grade.

“I-I do?”

“Yeah, you look normal.”

“Th-Thank you…” Jisoo scratches at his nape, pleased at what he just heard. “I’ll go reorganize the closet first. You help yourself with anything.”

When Jisoo walks back to the bedroom, Hoshi lets his face fall.

All he said was that his hyung looks normal, and he took it as… a compliment? He figures he should be a little more generous with his remarks. Up Jisoo’s standards a bit and let him see his worth. Right now it feels like his worth is attached to the hyung-nim’s, but it’s not like Hoshi is dating them. What does he know?

He might just be overthinking it. But he’ll really try to be kinder to him.

When Jisoo comes back, he settles himself next to Hoshi on the couch. There’s a weird gore show playing on the television, but it’s not like it’s any different from their daily lives.

In fact, Hoshi taught him how to laugh at some gore movies, especially when the inaccuracies are just incredibly ridiculous. Blood doesn’t just sprinkle everywhere like that.

“Why are you here anyway?” Jisoo says after a while of just spacing out.

Hoshi shrugs, “I know the boss has a meeting with the directors today. His car is not at the parking garage, so…” he pats the armchair as he ends his recollection. “Came here.”

Jisoo blinks at him. He can’t just do that. Jeonghan will tell him not to hang out with Hoshi again if he finds out he’s just barging in their home uninvited.

But it seems like Hoshi doesn’t really care about the consequences of his actions, and Jisoo tells him as much.

“I care about the consequences,” Hoshi protests, “That’s why I won’t get caught.”

“If you say so,” Jisoo scratches his head, choosing to drop the subject. No use arguing with someone like this guy.

“What’s that?”

Hoshi’s eyes are trained to his head like he just did something wrong. Jisoo freezes. “What? Is there a bug—”

“No, what’s that on your hand?”

That’s weird. Jisoo never wears jewelry—not even during missions where he has to pretty himself up. At first, he asked if it’s an allergy to fake gold or something because he might just be sensitive, but Jisoo only shook his head, saying it’s not that. He just didn’t feel like he can express himself with ornaments like that.

The most Hoshi saw on him is the silver barrette he puts on his hair when he’s dressed to seduce.

Jisoo checks his palms, but Hoshi isn’t keen on entertaining this dense hyung of his.

He needs to know what that gold ring is for. Right now.

“Why do you have a ring?”

“Oh, this?” Red dusts Jisoo’s cheeks, and if Hoshi’s big, juicy brain is right… fuck. This is one of the few times he hopes he’s wrong.

“I’m engaged,” Jisoo giggles when he realizes the question, bringing a timid hand to hide his smile. And every word he says triggers all the alarm bells in Hoshi’s head. “Jeonghan proposed last night.”

He looks at the ring as if it just offended his whole ancestry line. He doesn’t know why, but everything in him is screaming a long series of fuck in all caps.

Oblivious to how Hoshi is mentally freaking out, Jisoo happily shares the story with him. “I didn’t really think he’d propose soon. Or at all. After all, he's him, and I’m just me, you know? But last night, I really thought he was angry at me because he was a bit rougher than usual. Maybe he was just trying to keep me from getting suspicious—”

Hoshi doubts that. No, actually, he’ll bet his right leg and left foot that’s not the case. Yoon Jeonghan is nothing but calculating.

“—but I’m really happy he did. I thought he’ll never want to get married to me. I mean—we’ve never talked about it seriously. Usually it’s just him asking me—oh my, I talked too much, didn’t I? You probably don’t want to listen to this—”

This is… too much. Hoshi’s mouth is dry, but still, he cuts him off, “Are you sure?”

“Hm? About what?”

“Are you sure you want to marry him?”

The silence that comes after that question is so sharp, Hoshi almost wants to take it back. This isn’t what he meant when he said he’ll be kinder to him.

But he has to know.

He has to know if Jisoo came to this decision by himself, now that Hoshi knows the boss is hiding something (he assumes is big) from him.

“Why are you asking me that?” Jisoo blinks vacantly. This is what he does when he’s trying to sort out his feelings toward something. He’s not as obscure as he thinks. “We’ve been together for almost five years. Why shouldn’t I be sure?”

But this is for his own good. Even if it means Hoshi is the bad guy who keeps questioning his decision.

“I don’t know. You didn’t answer the question.” The TV is forgotten now. Unknowingly, Jisoo is clenching his hands into fists on his lap. “Do you even know him enough?”

Jisoo scoffs, sitting up straighter with an incredulous expression. “Of course, I do!”

“I’m just saying,” Hoshi says, careful with his words “…he’s the clan head.”

“What are you trying to say? That he’s dangerous? Hoshi, he’ll never hurt me—”

“I’m saying I want to make sure that he has the best intentions—”

“Are you out of your mind?” Jisoo blurts out, frustratedly, backing away from him to the other side of the couch. His voice is even, but his hands are visibly trembling. “No one makes me feel safer. He keeps me safe. Jeonghan takes care of me.”

“That’s not…” Not what he wants to say? Not the answer he wants out of him? Hoshi trails off. He wants to press further, but Jisoo’s expression right now tells him that maybe he’s saying that more to himself than Hoshi.

Are you sure you want to marry him?

And maybe he really does. Maybe Hoshi is thinking too hard about something he shouldn’t be thinking about in the first place.

Sighing, Jisoo goes limp, retreating back to making himself look smaller—something he does when he gets overwhelmed.

It’s tiring.

“Would it hurt so much to just be happy for me?” Jisoo asks with so much dejection in his voice, face defenseless.

“No—No,” he forces on a bright smile, hoping it would undo all the impulsive questioning he just did, “Of course, I’m happy for you! I’m just…” He debates if he should tell the truth.

That there’s a secret Jeonghan is keeping from him. That he should know about it first before jumping into marriage. But then, it’s not really his place to say whatever he’s been trying to say just now. Sure, Hoshi usually doesn’t acknowledge places, boxes where people cage and categorize each other, but this time, it’s something that genuinely makes Jisoo happy.

Hoshi has been saved by him before. He owes him this much.

So, he resorts to a white lie. “… I’m just really surprised my favorite person in the world is getting tied down. Maybe I’m just a little jealous you’ll spend more time with your husband than me. I’m sorry for overreacting…”

The words are heavy on his tongue because he doesn’t know what it will bring about, but Jisoo’s face turn hopeful again, and that’s enough for now.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Jisoo holds out his hand, and Hoshi takes it, watching the gleam of the diamond mock him. “I’m sure we’ll still have time together like usual. Nothing will change anyway.”

It’s a simple design, yet he can tell it cost a lot. It suits Jisoo so much. Jeonghan knows him, of course it would.

This hyung is really a good one. He hopes Yoon Jeonghan is really the best for him because it doesn’t seem like Jisoo wants anyone else.

Hoshi can only hope, watch from where he stands, no matter how much he’ll probably lose sleep over Jisoo’s welfare.

“You’ll be the most beautiful groom, hyung,” Hoshi offers as an apology, “I was just too shocked, but I meant to tell you that.”

This time, it’s not a lie just to lift his spirits. Hoshi means it.

“If you think so,” Jisoo turns pink at the compliment, but it still seems like the questions earlier are still bothering him, so Hoshi steers them away from it, opening another door for a conversation.

He lets his head drop on Jisoo’s lap, the older’s hand automatically carding through his hair as soon as he lies down. It hurts Hoshi how caring he is even after all that…

“Okay, so, you’re in a loving marriage, blah, blah, blah—can we talk about me now?” Jisoo perks up when Hoshi raises his wrist, showing a nameless watch. “You think you’re the only one with accessories? Seokmin got me this, too!”

“Jeonghan?” Jisoo asks, cautiously tugging at Jeonghan’s coat sleeve.

“Hm?” His boyfriend responds, staring straight ahead with an easy expression on his face.

 But Jisoo is disoriented.

“What are we doing at the amusement park?”

Towering above them is the view of amusement park rides. Jeonghan holds two premium tickets in one hand, Jisoo’s in the other.

What is going on?

“I told you we’ll go wherever you want today,” Jeonghan shrugs lightheartedly. He looks younger now that Jisoo looks closely. He’s not wearing the black button up and slacks anymore—he opted to change into something matching Jisoo’s outfit. Clad in a warm, dark brown turtleneck and a plaid coat of a lighter shade, Jeonghan even asked Hoshi, who stayed behind long enough that the hyung-nim caught him there, what he thought about the outfit.

Hoshi honestly responded that he looked like a chocolate wafer stick—not exactly something you should tell a mob boss, but to Jisoo’s relief, Jeonghan just laughed it off.

He must be in such a good mood to be letting things pass.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to go somewhere fun?”

When they were in the car earlier, Jisoo said he wanted to go to wherever Jeonghan wanted, but Jeonghan only clicked his tongue, saying it has to be what Jisoo wants. Pressured to say the right thing, Jisoo said he wanted to go somewhere fun and left it at that.

He thought the clan head would bring him to the shooting range or the clan estate pond or a list of other places where there are productive-leisure activities, but an amusement park is definitely not on that list.

Jisoo tilts his head in confusion, “I did, but—”

“Fun,” Jeonghan points at the park. As if on cue a round of rollercoaster ride passes by, the screaming emphasizing whatever Jeonghan’s point is.

“But—But why?”

Fun is not exactly an answer that makes sense.

“So many questions, love.”

“I—”

“Let go and enjoy,” Jeonghan says, and he’s looking at him with that safe, soft, calm smile from this morning. That’s cheating. How is Jisoo supposed to hold out against that? And be fore he could even try to ask again, Jeonghan wraps an arm around his shoulders, heaving him to match his strides. “That’s an order, Paragon. Have fun with the your boyfriend today.”

There’s a moment of hesitation since this is so unlike Jeonghan. But then he’s reminded of this morning—Jeonghan dedicating a day off his hectic schedule solely for him, that gentleness he haven’t felt in a long time, and even last night’s proposal. The ring sparkles when he glances at his hand, a wishful thinking that maybe…

Maybe things will change for the better from now on.

Giving in with a soft sigh coupled with a small, unsure smile, Jisoo does as his told. He lets go, lets his tense shoulders loosen, lets himself be whisked into the park.

Let go and enjoy, Jeonghan’s words echo in his mind. But that doesn’t make him less dumbfounded.

***

“I—” Hands on his knees, Jisoo wheezes, “—I will never ever ride that again. I’d rather get shot on the leg twice.”

He glances back at his boyfriend to see how he’s holding up after their first park ride—and goddammit, of course he’s fine. He’s the one who hauled Jisoo to that ride in the first place.

Looking too put together after just riding the Hellbound Doomslide with him, Jeonghan lets out a laugh, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend who’s probably about to lose consciousness. Jisoo is annoyed. Jeonghan’s brown hair is tousled, but it doesn’t look wrong—on the contrary, it looks hot on him. Like he’s sex on a stick. And Jisoo would be charmed inappropriately if not for his own bird’s nest resting atop his head.

He must look like a child right now.

“Aigoo, this baby,” Jeonghan fusses all over him as he wipes away a little sweat on Jisoo’s forehead, fixing his bangs and steadying him with a firm hold around his waist. All these, and Jisoo is about to pass out. “Did that scare you? Do you want to find a bathroom?”

Not because of that death trap—but seriously how in the hell is that ride allowed? It’s a torture device—okay, maybe a little because of the ride. But also because Jeonghan is being…

Oddly sweet.

Don’t get him wrong, Jisoo appreciates everything that Jeonghan has done for him. And Jeonghan takes care of him well within reason, of course. Like he knows that Jisoo is his own person, that Jisoo can take care of himself well without him. And sometimes, Jeonghan dabbles on some of the clingy gestures like holding onto him in his office or pinning him against walls—times that are heavily laced with sexual intentions.

But this kind of sweet is different. It’s almost as if he’s doting on him. It’s gentle, carefree, and quirky…

And Jisoo feels like it’s a first time he has seen him like this.

Jeonghan leads him to a park bench where they sit for a moment, with Jisoo’s head leaning naturally on his shoulder. And it’s funny because they have never been in a situation like this in public before. Jisoo watches his surroundings, waiting for the eyes, the stares—but there’s nothing. No one’s looking at their every move. Well, except for those high school girls who are clearly stealing obvious glances at Jeonghan and then blushing, but aside from that minor nuisance to Jisoo, they’re alone. In a crowded place.

And he feels normal like he is normal.

Like this could be his normal.

When his guts settle down, and he feels like he’s capable of at least taking a sip out of the lemonade Jeonghan got him from a nearby food stand, Jisoo lets himself ask again because this is just too random, too unnerving. He’s thrown off balance.

“Why the amusement park?”

Jeonghan doesn’t look at him when he answers, opting to look straight ahead at the view of the carousel in front of him, a soft smile on his face. “Why not?”

“We’re not normal people, Jeonghan,” Jisoo says mindfully, really weirded out by this decision to go here of all places, “This just isn’t our usual scene.”

There’s a long pause, so Jisoo fills the moment by nibbling on some of the cotton candy that came with the lemonade. Weird food combo, but Jisoo won’t hold it against his boyfriend if he doesn’t know theme park stuff—Jisoo doesn’t either. “Are you not having fun?”

Jisoo doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“It’s just too random,” he says, almost regretting it when Jeonghan turns to him with a bit of what he thinks is dejection swimming in his eyes. “We’re not exactly… fit to be here.”

“Is it because you’re with me that you’re not having fun?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t—”

“You didn’t say you were.”

Jisoo opens his mouth as if to say something, but there’s nothing coming out, everything knocked out of him by confusion. How is he supposed to enjoy this? He just doesn’t understand.

Eyes drifting back to the spinning carousel, Jeonghan sighs, leaning back, “I just thought since you had fun with your friend at the movie theater, you’d want to do something like that with me, too.” Jisoo feels his insides wrench in shame, unbeknown to Jeonghan. “But I guess this is just for younger people, huh? I’ve never been to one of these places before. I thought you’d like it since there are lights and colors and sweets everywhere. I must have thought wrong.”

Guilt washes over him as he absorbs every word Jeonghan said. He’d been selfish, questioning this venue and finding a catch in everything that he forgot to do the only command given to him today.

Let go and enjoy.

And to think that Jeonghan even went the extra mile of considering his likes, the things that make him happy. Even if it means the clan head would have to dress to fit the scene. Even if it means he’ll have to drop his work just so he could go on a date like this with Jisoo.

The day isn’t even over yet. The sun is still showing in the sky, but it already feels as though Jisoo has wasted a good amount of the moment, worrying and contorting the fact.

“Do you want to go home?” Jeonghan asks, standing and turning to him with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and it breaks Jisoo’s heart.

He’s horrible, isn’t he?

But he shakes his head, looking up to Jeonghan with sincere conviction that he’s going to make this right. He’s going to let go and enjoy this moment with him. He’s going to make it all better.

“No,” Jisoo says, getting ahold of the clan head’s hand, “I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be here—”

“I want to!” Jisoo insists, pushing himself to his feet even if he’s still a little bit wobbly from that ride, “We’ll have fun. I’ll do it properly now.”

With a patient smile, Jeonghan brushes his hair away from his face, and the cool gust air hitting his forehead soothes him. “Don’t think about what I want, Jisoo. Think about what you want, and we’ll do that.”

He nods obediently. He doesn’t want this to go any more wrong. “Well,” he mumbles looking around for something, anything he wants to do. Now that he actually pays attention to his surroundings, there are a lot of things he wants to try like the strawberry shaved ice or that log jam ride. It’s okay, he reminds himself as his gaze falls on something he’d been curious about earlier. You can indulge yourself.

“That one,” he points at one of the free-standing game booths. “Can we play that one?”

Jeonghan looks over, noting the baseballs and the stacked bottles. He shrugs, a pleased smile gracing his features, “That looks fun. Let’s go.”

When they get to the booth, the attendant with a preppy ponytail greets them with a bright tone, “Welcome to Hit! You get three chances to topple the bottles to win a prize!” Jisoo doesn’t miss the way the attendant glances at Jeonghan, batting her lashes to gain his attention. She doesn’t even spare Jisoo a glimpse.

“Want to go first?” Jeonghan asks him as he places a bill on the counter, seemingly oblivious to the eye-fucking he’s getting from the attendant.

Jisoo resists the urge to huff like a child. It’s not like he can control the way his boyfriend looks. “Yeah. I have pent-up frustrations.”

Jeonghan chuckles, “How bad are they that you’re using a game booth as release?”

“So bad,” Jisoo mutters as he takes a baseball, throwing it in the air to get his hand used to the weight.

When Jeonghan steps back to give him space, Jisoo takes his aim. He throws daggers like a pro, maybe even as good as Jeonghan himself. He knows his way in the battlefield, knows how to shoot a bullet from a great distance.

This is nothing compared to that.

He takes a deep breath in, releasing it as he throws with all the precision he learned through the years.

The ball doesn’t so much scratch the bottles, landing on the ground with a thud.

“Rigged! This game is tampered with!” Jisoo’s head whips to look at Jeonghan, who is trying so hard not to laugh at his immediate outburst. “I clearly had a good stance—I was perfect! You saw right!? I didn’t make a mistake!”

“Maybe you didn’t put in enough strength,” Jeonghan says through some wheezing he’s trying to control. Right now, Jisoo is pouting, and it doesn’t seem like he realizes as he mumbles something about him controlling his strength and being mindful of the booth. “Let me try?”

When Jisoo steps back to give him space, he doesn’t even doubt it, and he’s glad he didn’t because Jeonghan takes the ball, swiftly throwing and hitting all three stacked bottles off the pedestal like it was never there.

“We have a winner! Step right up and claim your prize!”

(The game is rigged, indeed. But Jeonghan knows how to cheat the cheat. One wink at the attendant got him exactly what he wanted.)

As they’re walking to the next destination, Jisoo is carrying an enormous Winnie the Pooh plushie that he can’t even wrap both his arms around.

“Need help with that?” Jeonghan offers, but Jisoo only shakes his head, hugging the plushies tighter to him. Jeonghan won this for him. There’s no way he’s putting this down.

“I can manage,” so he says, but as soon as he sees another park bench, he sits his ass down as he situates the plushie beside him.

“Where do you want to go next?”

“Do they have…” He hesitates, the question sounding a bit childish in his head, but Jeonghan looks at him expectantly, waiting for the rest of it. “Does this place have, like, that thing in movies—the doughnut on plates? It’s really nice when it’s cold, I heard—ah, but if they don’t have one—”

“If they don’t have one, we’ll just find one, okay?” Jeonghan takes his hand, the other carrying the plushie for him. “Let’s put this in the car first, and then we’ll find those doughnuts you want to try.”

***

By the time Jisoo’s stuffed with doughnuts—funnel cakes—and some shaved ice he really wanted to try because they’re pink, the sky is already a different color as the sun setting turns it into swirls of brilliant reds and oranges.

They settle themselves at the rim of the fountain where the fireworks display will happen, sitting because walking the length of the park is an exhausting deed on its own. They didn’t ride any more attractions because lines are long, and the day is never enough for things like this. At least, Jisoo got to try the things he saw in movies, the things he thought were nice to experience in his youth, if he ever had one.

Jeonghan’s hands are warm. They’re rubbing Jisoo’s cold ones in hopes of warming them up. They sit facing each other, close enough that their faces are just inches away.

“Thank you,” Jisoo says, bumping his forehead against Jeonghan’s, “For today. I know it’s not easy, but you still did this for me.”

“I told you, didn’t I? I love you, and I’ll do anything to prove it to you.”

Jisoo chuckles, “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Hannie. No one loves me like you do.”

Are you sure you want to marry him?

Hoshi doesn’t know this side of Jeonghan, so the uncertainty should not be a surprise.

Of course, he wants to.

He loves him.

Don’t you want to marry the man you love?

“That’s great because I seriously was aiming for this to be one of the best days of your life.”

Smiling, Jisoo rubs their noses together. The tip of Jeonghan’s nose is freezing, the weather turning colder as the skies get darker.

“This is one I’ll treasure forever,” Jisoo admits, closing his eyes and letting his heart show through his words. “There were so many things I experienced today that I never knew I would ever go through in this lifetime.” He lets his voice drop to a whisper because the next words feel private, like Jeonghan is the only one allowed to hear them. Anyone else would just be intruding. “And for that, I’m grateful. With you, it’s always a whole new world. You always save me.”

“No, Jisoo,” Jeonghan’s voice fills his ears, low yet overflowing with sincerity, “I’m the one being saved by you.”

A burst of the fireworks begins the night, sparks of burning colors painting the newly dark skies. It was red for the sunset, pitch black for the night, but not for long because humans found a way to color the skies with flowers.

The first bursts of colors are lost to both Jeonghan and Jisoo who are immersed in a kiss, warmth shared between their searing lips.

When they pull away, reluctantly, they’re locked in a gaze where unspoken I love yous are exchanged. Jeonghan’s thumb is swiping along the thin band of the gold on Jisoo’s ring finger—a reminder of what they will soon share.

Jisoo is ready to marry him, indeed. No matter how many times. In any lifetime.

“Yang Heekyung, you’re a great woman! You bought this apartment—it’s a lease, but it’s you who paid for it—Ah, you’ll be a rock star in the city! You’ll prove them all wrong!”

Seokmin was eight years old when he heard his mother scream at the top of her lungs in utter happiness because finally, finally they have a place to live in.

Back then, they only lived with his mother's sister, who hated the fact that the only thing keeping them in their household was the fact that they’re blood-related.

As soon as his mother saved up enough money to pull them out of that dark pit, they moved to the city for a new chapter in their lives.

The apartment unit was just a box of room, but to someone like him, it was the biggest space he had ever seen.

“Smile, my sunshine. Making friends is easy! You just have to smile!”

“Is it really that easy, mom?”

“Mhm! Just like this,” His mom flashed him one of her signature beams, one that Seokmin mirrored as soon as he saw it. “You have a beautiful smile, Seokmin. You take after me, after all. If you smile at them, they’ll surely want to be friends with you.”

Seokmin was eleven years old when he came home bruised and beaten. His mom was nowhere to be found. She must be at work, Seokmin thought as he rummaged through cupboards for bandages and ointments. Ah, they were under the bathroom sink.

He needed to get rid of the marks as best he can before his mom got home. He didn’t want her to worry.

She said he only needed to smile to make friends, but the kids in his school thought he was mocking them.

Seokmin let himself cry on the bathroom floor that day. And then he got up, washed his clothes and hung them up to dry.

When his mom came back visibly exhausted from work, even if she looked like she was about to pass out from fatigue, she still managed to worry and fuss over him.

But Seokmin flashed him a smile, saying he fell because he was playing too much with his friends. He should’ve been careful.

“Eh! I don’t really care about high grades, as long as you’re having fun at school. But no failing grades, alright?”

Seokmin was fifteen when he got a phone call at school from the hospital.

His mom passed out at work. Seokmin rushed to her side, leaving an exam behind. He didn’t even give the teacher an explanation why.

His mom waved it off when he got there, saying it was just because of the heat. Seokmin knew it wasn’t, but he let her say that anyway.

The nurse filled him in, said she collapsed probably due to fatigue and fell and hit her head. She would need to stay behind for more tests. Their money was only enough for the ambulance fees.

His mom insisted nothing hurt, so she must be fine. They went home like nothing happened.

When summer came, he had to retake a remedial class for one subject.

“You can’t spend it here, you’re young! Go have some fun, my sunshine. Yang Heekyung is just alright here. Besides, the heating here is superb.”

Seokmin was eighteen when his mom urged him to spend Christmas with his friends. She said since he was about to go to college, he should make the most of his high school days. He didn’t have any, but his mom didn’t know that.

But she insisted that she wouldn’t like it one bit if her son turned out to be antisocial, and she said it with a smile so bright, it hurt Seokmin to look at it.

Her hair was all shaved off. She had her brain surgery scheduled that week.

Seokmin spent Christmas at home to make his mom feel better at the hospital. Instead of celebrating, he pulled out his books and planners. He decided he’ll become a doctor, so his mom won’t have to worry about hospital fees anymore.

“Smile, my sunshine.”

Seokmin was twenty-one when his mother died. He dropped out of college because what’s the point?

Seokmin let himself cry on the bathroom floor on that day.

And then he disrespected her wishes. He somehow forgot how to smile.

Even when the brother he never knew he has come to offer help, he just couldn’t remember how to smile.

Seokmin was twenty-three when he met Hoshi.

“You’re the doctor’s assistant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wow.”

“…?”

“Do you not know how to smile? Gee, you’re creeping me out. From now on, when you’re with me, I want smiles. Got it?”

Seokmin couldn’t bring himself to obey.

But then, out of literal nowhere, Hoshi tripped on his own feet, falling face first on the ground. He had a wound on his nose when he got back up, one that he plastered with a yellow cartoon band-aid he kept handy in his phone case.

It was so absurd, ridiculously erratic and accidental. So there was a person like this, huh?

Hoshi looked at him, head titled to the side. And then he broke into a smile—one that mirrored Seokmin’s as soon as he saw it.

“That’s it. Keep smiling like that. I like it when people do as I say.”

A gunshot flies from somewhere he couldn’t pinpoint, striking too quickly for Seokmin to notice four of the holes in his chest. The blood spurts from his sternum—metallic crimson, a reminder that he’s human. The pain is agonizingly dawdling like dripping molasses.

He’s looking ahead, at the view of the sunset, reds and oranges, and yellows and blues mashing together to form a bloodshot dome in the sky. His puzzled gaze tries to find anyone who could have been hurt by that gunshot.

But there’s no one, so he looks back down, realizing that the are wounds on him.

He always heard it from people.

That the moment you die, your life will flash before your eyes. That there are a few minutes where you’re conscious at death’s door, and whoever created you takes pity and gives you time to remember how you lived.

Maybe to give you a few seconds to ask for forgiveness. Maybe to give you a few moments to remember what it was like and what it will never be again.

Pain finally reaches Seokmin for the first time. He lets out a voiceless gasp as it is running through his body.

Smile, my sunshine, his mother’s words echo in his mind.

Keep smiling.

I love you.

I know it’s too fast, but I’m in love with you, Seokmin. And I’m not one to waste time.

There is a conspicuous display of Hoshi’s face before his eyes.

When he comes down to the ground, his hand breaks his fall. There’s a tiny crack that he barely hears, glass shards from his new watch exploding everywhere.

It’s okay. It’s not expensive at all. He just got it from a gift shop at the museum. There’s a cute tiger engraved at the back because Hoshi loves that animal the most. He bought two so they can match.

He didn’t hit his head. The world isn’t turning black, but he can feel his throat unable closing as he tries to gasp some more. Hoshi will be annoyed if he finds out the watch is broken, and he will sulk, complaining how Seokmin is so clumsy. But then he’ll ask if he’s hurt anywhere, if there’s something more pressing than the watch.

As his vision blurs, the red sky looking at him from above, Seokmin wears a smile before he breathes his last, remembering not to forget to buy another watch to replace this one.

If he remembers, he’ll do it first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Chapter Text

When a clan member dies, the family gathers to pay their respects. The funeral is held at night because that’s how it was done since time immemorial. The clan head would grace the place with his presence, all clad in traditional clothes to show kinship—and that would be enough to lift spirits, to remind everyone that they still need to keep fighting for vengeance.

Feuds that endure decades rise from the blood spilled, and then there’s an all-out war waged against the adversary.

Today, the sun is overpoweringly bright.

It’s mocking Hoshi.

It’s a reminder that when Seokmin died, he hadn’t been invested in a blood pact. A sickening reminder that Seokmin was nothing to the family when he died.

Just another pawn who was sent on a mission.

Open-casket funeral, and yet no one’s here to see him.

Hoshi stands before it, eyes trailing along the coffin, examining the details of the curved, dark brown wood used to make it.

He takes the moment to thank whoever is in charge of mortal lives for letting him meet Seokmin before he crossed the sky.

A sigh, quiet and shaky, escapes Hoshi’s lips as the sun fans across the casket. He takes a moment to curse whoever is in charge of mortal lives because there was just not enough time.

“Why are you here?”

Hoshi doesn’t have to look to know that the voice belongs to Wonwoo.

“Why are you here?” Hoshi parrots the question.

No answer came, but Wonwoo stands next to him, close enough that Hoshi can feel the fabric of his coat brush against his own. And it seems like he’s looking at anything except the contents of the coffin, too.

“I wasn’t the best brother to him,” Wonwoo says after a while, and the words come as a shock to Hoshi. “But I’m here.”

Brother. “You could’ve been there when it happened. You could’ve prevented it.”

Wonwoo doesn’t seem to mind the spite in his voice. “No one could have known it would happen.”

They both know that’s not true.

Wonwoo asks, “So, what about you?”

“I’m just his mentor,” Hoshi lies through his teeth. It’s so easy like a razor-sharp knife going through softened butter in his chest. “Have to send him off. I feel responsible.”

At least, there’s some truth to his words.

“It must be hard,” Wonwoo remarks because what is there left to say? He never really had much relationship with Hoshi.

“Were you close?” Hoshi asks, gaze still following the lines of the wood, stubborn and firm, refusing to even spare it a glance as though looking at its contents—Seokmin’s body—would burn him. You could say it’s total denial, but Hoshi won’t hear you over the loud ringing that has been stuck in his head since he… since he knew. “Was he important to you?”

It’s stupid to even ask this. Loving someone, caring for them, means you’ll want to protect them. Bringing that someone into the clan… that’s not protection. If Wonwoo really cared for him, he wouldn’t have brought him into the family. He would’ve protected him himself. He’s powerful enough, anyway.

Seokmin’s dead, Hoshi repeats in his head like a mantra. But it doesn’t make it feel real at all.

“I’m just here to pay my respects.” Wonwoo’s tone has finality in it. He doesn’t owe a subordinate an explanation. “We didn’t have enough time to get to know each other.”

Bullshit, Hoshi thinks. Utter bullshit. He didn’t have enough time. Wonwoo had his whole life. How fucking unfair.

Wonwoo stays silent after that, running his finger tips along the coffin. Hoshi glances at him, noting how expensive he looks.

Ah, he’s the legitimate son. He’s partly the reason why Seokmin had nothing in the first place.

They stand there, staring at nothing but the casket, watching the sun kiss the wood, and again, Hoshi feels like it’s mocking him.

Seokmin is gone.

But if he closes his eyes, he can still hear his laughter, full and exuberant—one that would make you want to laugh, too. He can still smell the soap he uses, lingering on the warmest inch of the skin on his neck. He can still see the sweetest smile in his eyes, the way they curve into crescents when he’s overjoyed. He can still feel his arms around him. He can still taste his lips.

And when he opens them, the sun is before him, shining so brightly. He’s alone. Wonwoo is walking back to his car.

And when he opens them, Seokmin is gone.

***

A hand lightly lands on his shoulder.

“We offer our sincere condolences,” Jisoo’s voice fills his ears. “He’s in a better place now.”

Hoshi feels like this day is just full of mockery.

He never moved from where he was standing, the sun is still high in the sky, but he knows only a few hours has passed since he talked to Wonwoo. He doesn’t have to look back to know that the clan head is behind him.

Watching. Looming above. Mentally questioning just why Hoshi is holding a funeral for an insignificant rookie.

But Hoshi is hanging over him, too.

The clan head. Attending the wake of a low-rank he barely knows.

That’s interesting.

“I had people telling me he’s a good kid,” Jeonghan says, and for a second Hoshi falls for the somber tone. A split-second of maybes. Maybe he really cares. Maybe he’s unlike the previous clan heads who cared very little for lower ranks. Or maybe, Hoshi is fooling himself into thinking all these, and Jisoo’s delusions are rubbing off on him. Hundreds have died under Jeonghan already. Blood may be spilled, but the loyalty is to the family. Seokmin is nothing to him. “It’s a shame. I heard he didn’t suffer, though. Not for a long time. He got what he deserved.”

If it was anyone else, anyone else in the world, who earned those words from Jeonghan, Hoshi would have laughed.

So, he laughs. He laughs like he always would. His laugh sounds genuinely amused because he is. Not for the reasons Jeonghan would think, but he is.

“Kids nowadays think they can conquer the world,” Hoshi says lightly, a chuckle following every breath. “This one’s no different. I thought he was brighter, too.”

He sounds detached, yet nostalgic. Jeonghan might not fully grasp the human sentiment because he’s from the darkest pits of hell, but Hoshi knows he understands enough to not doubt him.

Jisoo casts him a worried glance. Hoshi doesn’t know if it’s for him. Or if it’s for the fact that he knows how much Hoshi is holding in in front of the hyung-nim, yet he brought him, anyway. Or if it’s just another act to make Jeonghan think he’s perfect, kind, overflowing with concern.

Hoshi can’t tell anymore.

Why are you here? He wants to ask the clan head. But that’s exactly what Jeonghan wants him to do—question him, so Jeonghan can question him back.

He can pretend to be a teacher who lost a student. He can pretend to be a friend who lost a friend. He can pretend if it means he won’t give Jeonghan a reason to kill him, too. That’s just not satisfying at all.

“I have to go,” Jeonghan announces after a moment of silence. Hoshi doesn’t have to answer because it’s more for Jisoo than anyone else. “Wonwoo requested for a private audience with me. Meet you at home?”

“Sure,” Jisoo says quietly, “Call me when you’re near. I’ll cook dinner.”

“I will.”

Must be nice.

The car revs, and it takes a minute before the sound fades into nothingness. The sun is still bright in front of him. Jisoo is next to him.

The air is stifling as if his lungs are in a plastic bag.

Maybe Jisoo feels it, too, because he tries to make small talk. As if he knows how it feels. He talks like he wasn’t a friend to Seokmin—and Hoshi can identify the tone very well. “You know, I really liked Seokmin.” Shut up. “He was good for you.” Shut the fuck up. “I’m sorry for your loss—”

“Jisoo-hyung,” he interrupts because he can’t take any more of it. “Have you ever cried for your parents?”

Seemingly taken aback by the question, Jisoo tilts his head to the side. “Of course, I have. I was really young back then.” He lets out a soft sigh at the recollection. “At the foster homes. Every night.”

“Were the tears for your parents?”

“…?”

Jisoo doesn’t know where this is going. But Hoshi is fixated already. “Were you crying while thinking about your parents? Or were you crying while thinking about what an unfortunate child you were?”

“That…” Jisoo has this look on his face that tells him he doesn’t know what to feel about the questions just yet. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing,” Hoshi decides to just brush it off. There’s no point if Jisoo doesn’t know how to grieve.

Jisoo must sense there’s something wrong, and he should because it really would be concerning if there isn’t. Hoshi is doing his best to show that there is. He knows Jisoo is fucking gullible, but he wishes not to this extent.

“It feels like you’re taking out your feelings on me. I understand, but…” Hoshi blinks. Is he serious? Jisoo sounds pained when he clasps a hand on Hoshi’s shoulder, but the younger doesn’t seem to budge from where he’s staring. “What did I do to you?”

Nothing, Hoshi thinks, but it seems like Jisoo thinks he has done something.

“What do you think—"

“I—” Jisoo chokes back his tears, but the sight is nothing but pathetic to Hoshi. “I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know I was sending him to—I had no idea. It’s not my fault—”

“Of course, you didn’t know,” Hoshi lets out a laugh. “You never know anything. Sometimes, I wonder if you’re choosing not to know or you’re just plain stupid that you can’t see it when it’s right in front of you.”

By the way he defensively steps back, Jisoo takes offense at that. He still has no idea, after all.

“What do you mean by that?” Jisoo challenges him. He’s supposed to be scared, but Hoshi can’t feel anything but annoyance. “More importantly, why are you doing this to me? On Seokmin’s funeral, too. Have you no respect for hi—”

“Have I no respect for him?” Hoshi’s voice is ice-cold when he cuts him off, and Jisoo falls silent almost immediately. “You really dare ask me that? When you know what we had?” He’s not backing down. Jisoo laid out the challenge. Hoshi is out for blood. “You’re the only one who knows it best, hyung. And yet you pretend you don’t.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Desperation is all over Jisoo’s face. Hoshi wants something else, though.

He wants to kindle fear in him, wants to see him trembling in terror, danger creeping in from his ass, crawling out of his throat. It’s hilarious just how Hoshi wants to kill him right here.

As if that’s not enough, he wants to see his corpse next to Seokmin’s.  

It’d be beautiful.

An eye for an eye.

“Jeonghan did this.” He says, outright laughing at Jisoo’s affronted face. It’s not enough. He wants to hurt him. He wants to hurt him. “And you know.”

No one’s saying anything, but everyone knows. Hoshi knows. Wonwoo knows.

Seokmin probably knew. Or not. He was always good even after everything.

And Jisoo knows. He just doesn’t want to admit that he does. He’d rather delude himself into thinking that Jeonghan had nothing to do with this.

But maybe Hoshi’s wrong on this one because Jisoo holds his head high when, voice quivering in all honesty, he replies, “He wouldn’t do anything like this without good reason.”

But maybe Jisoo is unprepared for how much further Hoshi is willing to take this. “Does he have a good reason for keeping your past from you, too?”

His heart quake a little in his chest. This is a bold claim, even for him. If he angers him enough...

Hoshi lets his eyes drift to Seokmin’s lifeless face.

It wouldn’t be so bad to have a death wish.

“Will you stop spouting bullshit—”

“I’ll help you, hyung.” Hoshi chuckles, dropping his gaze from Seokmin’s body. “I’ll help you find out. Give me until tomorrow.”

Jisoo give him a look as though he’s going mad. Hoshi was always sick in the head. He never tried to hide it. Seokmin still wanted him even with it.

“You’re grieving—that I know. So I will let you off just this once,” Jisoo sounds tired, vulnerable, hugging his coat around himself tighter. “I’m going.”

After hearing a few consecutive retreating footsteps, Hoshi speaks up, “Hyung?”

Jisoo stops in his tracks, turning around to look at Hoshi’s back, half-expecting him to ask for comfort because he’s still his friend, but all he’s doing is pushing him away with cryptic questions and accusations toward Jeonghan. And Jisoo can’t trust himself to not act out of duty if this keeps on going.

“You were a great friend to Seokmin, you know. He treasured you.”

“I know.”

For the first time since he got here, Hoshi turns around to face him. There are only a few steps of distance between, but it feels like they’re on the opposite sides of the world.

“I feel like I have to remind you,” Hoshi says, sincerity dripping in his voice. For the first time since he got here, Jisoo finally sees emotion in Hoshi’s eyes. “That there are other people who care about you, Jisoo-hyung.”

The more the words sink in, the more Jisoo wants to get away from him. Even if he wants nothing but to hug Hoshi right now, offer him the comfort he clearly needs, Jisoo won’t be able to. Not if he’s acting like this. Not if he’s throwing Jisoo’s thoughts in disorder.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Hoshi doubts he believes his own words.

He watches Jisoo’s retreating figure, the clan head’s lover hugging himself with his head cast down. Hoshi tears his gaze away after a few moments, coming to a realization.

Yoon Jeonghan might be responsible, but no one can make him answer for it. Seokmin’s existence would forever be overshadowed by the fact that he was sent on a suicide mission on the clan head’s whim. And Wonwoo will always go on in his wealthy life. And Jisoo can easily forget a friend for as long as Jeonghan expects him to.

This could be a dead end. But there’s a silly thought he can’t help entertaining since the clan head left.

If Yoon Jeonghan is truly untouchable…

Then what does that make Jisoo?

“For fuck’s sakes,” Wonwoo bursts through the doors of his office panting, seemingly rugged and unkempt. His tie is loose, his coat buttons undone, his whole demeanor wrinkled and creased. Jeonghan looks up once to study his awful appearance, and then he goes back to writing today’s memo. “We all know it’s you.”

Jeonghan pays him no attention, pen gliding haphazardly across the paper. His indifference is not enough, so Wonwoo pulls out his gun, striding closer to him as he cocks it before pointing it at his head.

Still, Jeonghan remains busy with what he’s doing, making the director scoff inwardly. He’s fucking deranged if he’s ignoring someone who has a literal gun pointed at his head.

Jeonghan is unarmed, and it doesn’t seem like he plans to fish out any weapon from god knows where.

“What did he do to deserve that?” Wonwoo spits, trembling as he holds the gun tightly in his hand.

“When you see a bug, you swat it away,” the clan head responds, placing a dot on the paper as he finishes. He then leans back, eyes snapping up to stare down the barrel of Wonwoo’s pistol that’s only centimeters away from his forehead. “You know how much I hate tolerating nuisances.”

“This has something to do with Jisoo, doesn’t it?” Wonwoo sounds desperate as the words leave his mouth, his face is contorted in something between a scowl and an expression of utter rage. It’s entertaining to Jeonghan how the people he has known to never cave under any pressure can still make such a face. “I already told you, you had nothing to worry about—Seokmin isn’t—wasn’t like that—”

“And you already know you can’t kill me, so why did you still come marching in here with a gun?” It’s only entertaining for a moment, but now it feels whimsical, like an impulsive pour of dramatics that Jeonghan isn’t a fan of.

Wonwoo doesn’t respond because, as much as he wants to, he can’t deny it’s true. Killing Yoon Jeonghan might be the most unthinkable thing to even attempt if you’re part of the family. That’s just asking for every single member who was trained to perfection to put you in an endless misery. That’s just asking for Jisoo to destroy you.

And destruction is even more devastating when it comes from the person whose heart is chaste.

“He was my brother,” is all Wonwoo could utter, his pathetic words earning a chuckle from the clan head.

“Ah, let’s see…” he weaves his fingers, resting them on his desk as he wills an easy expression to grace his features. “You barely knew him, your mother was the reason why his mother suffered, and you turned a blind eye to his suffering to keep you father’s approval because there’s a possibility that your half-brother could be better at what you do,” Jeonghan lists off the top of his head, “You brought him here not because you took pity in him, but because you wanted him to work under you.”

Wonwoo’s face is almost priceless.

“You’re not really here to kill me for him, Wonwoo,” Jeonghan finishes off, light laughter bouncing off the walls of his office because the director falls into crisp silence. “You’re here to make yourself feel better because you secretly wished he’d get killed on the job. And now that it happened, I have to be the one who answers for it when it’s you who brought him in.”

The sound of the gun dropping to the marble floors reverberates, but neither of them flinches at the loud noise.

If you wanted to protect him, you should’ve done just that, were left unspoken, but Jeonghan’s sure he made that clear as well.

“I granted your wish,” Jeonghan continues, “I believe thanks are in order.”

“You’re an animal. He didn’t do anything wrong,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath, but Jeonghan can hear it clearly. The clan head shakes his head. This has gotten boring now that Wonwoo seems to have given up, realizing everything he did leading up to know was not a one-man show.

It’s easy to point the fingers at Jeonghan, to make him out as the bad guy, but everyone has desires that they’ll go crazy chasing after whether they’re aware of it or not. And every action, every word has a motive.

The difference between those people and Jeonghan is that the latter just doesn’t mind being the enemy.

As Wonwoo stands there dumbly, head swimming in blankness, Jeonghan loses all patience. Wonwoo’s expression was amusing earlier, but now it’s just annoying—much like a child throwing tantrums because of unsatisfactory results. It’s unbecoming for a Yoon clan director.

“If you’re done with your defiance, which will not go unpunished,” Jeonghan dismisses him with a wave of his hand, “the get out of my office. And bring your unloaded gun with you.”

Jeonghan sent Jisoo a text message that says he’s almost there, and that he wouldn’t mind having a randomly prepared bibimbap when he gets home. Jisoo must be sad, seeing as a clan member he spent a get-together with just died—Jeonghan gets that part of the human life. He’s heartless, not dumb.

But when he comes home, funnily enough, there’s no one to greet him at the doors.

He finds Jisoo in their shared bed, wrapped in the duvet. If the collar of his pajama top peeking from his human burrito is anything to go by, Jeonghan would say he’s in comfortable sleep clothes already. It’s not even seven yet.

The bed dips under his weight when he comes to his side, pulling off the quilt to see his face. Sure enough, tears are streaking his cheeks in long, endless lines.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks, voice deep with concern.

Jisoo looks at him as he sniffles, red nose twitching. He doesn’t respond to either his words or actions. He just lies on his side, staring up at Jeonghan as more tears spill from his eyes.

Knowing it’s about Seokmin again—goddamn, even in death, he doesn’t stop, does he? —Jeonghan tries again, “He’s in a better place now.”

“No,” Jisoo whines, closing his eyes tightly. His brows furrow as he hiccups, “He’s not. He didn’t die quickly.”

He had holes on his chest. Jisoo could tell from just the embalmed body. It was on his chest, nowhere near his heart. He had to gasp for air. He felt the pain. If Jisoo was the one who shot him, he would’ve ended it painlessly—

“And he’s better now,” Jeonghan soothingly rubs his thumb across Jisoo’s cheeks, wiping away the tears. “He’s not feeling pain anymore. It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Jisoo keeps mumbling, shaking his head. “It’s not okay.”

Jeonghan moves to unravel the duvet from around him, taking its place and cradling a crying Jisoo in his arms. His weeping doesn't stop, no matter how much cooing and coaxing Jeonghan tries to do, so he lets him cry it all out.

Jisoo has never cried this much before—not with him, at least. Even in tears, he’s quiet, subconsciously trying to make sure he’s not making himself a bother to the clan head. Apart from the sounds that he can’t help making, there’s not much noise.

It’s kind of… pleasant to Jeonghan. The sound Jisoo makes when he cries is mild.

It feels like a victory of some sort.

“I sent him there,” Jisoo buries his face in Jeonghan’s chest, eyes wetting the fabric of his dress shirt. “Hoshi volunteered, but I still gave the job to him.”

And there it is—the self-condemnation. “You couldn’t have possibly known what would happen.” Jeonghan strokes his hair, his fingertips applying some pressure to his scalp just the way he knows would calm him down. “It was a mission you had taken no part in.”

“Right.” He didn’t mean to, but his tongue slips before he could stop himself, “But you could have.”

“Hm?” Jeonghan hums distractedly, fingers gently carding through his hair. “I could have what?”

“You could’ve known,” Jisoo says in a voice so small, it seems like he’s scared of saying it out loud, “You always know.”

You’re always a hundred steps ahead of everyone, Jisoo almost let the thought slip, but it sounds too burdensome even for him.

“Are you suggesting that I let him go on a mission knowing he’ll get attacked?” Jeonghan asks. His tone doesn’t sound provoked. On the contrary, he’s trying to evoke something from Jisoo. “That I, the head of this clan, would waste my men’s lives?”

Jisoo swallows thickly, his tears finding every other way to spill from his eyes. “N-No, you’re not like that. You wouldn’t—” He inhales, trying to find his breathing through his crying “—It’s irrational for you to do that.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jeonghan repeats. “And if I ever would do something like that—”

“You’ll have a reason for it.”  

Jeonghan beams, pressing a kiss to his forehead that warms him from the inside. “That’s right.”

Giving himself up in that reassurance, that serenity, Jisoo silently curses at himself for even having reservations about Jeonghan’s decisions.

The mission was just a miscalculation. Maybe the Ghims are ready for an all-out war.

“I’m sorry,” Jisoo looks up at him, hand lightly clutching the front of Jeonghan’s shirt in a bunch. “I shouldn’t have doubted you like that. I know you wouldn’t. Seokmin never did anything wrong.”

Patiently, Jeonghan nods in affirmation, and by this time, Jisoo’s tears have already stopped coming.

“Do you want to sleep?” Jeonghan asks. “You must be tired.”

But he’s not. He’s actually pretty restless. “No, I’m fine.”

“Then…” Jeonghan gently rolls on top of him, and the weight is grounding, comforting Jisoo in ways he can’t explain. “Do you want to ease some of that tension?”

Jeonghan is already pressing light, butterfly kissed on his lips when Jisoo replies, “Yes, please.”

It has been a while since Jisoo had sex with Jeonghan while the latter is sweet-tempered.

He has no problem dealing with rough, brutal fucking because he can bear anything for as long as it makes Jeonghan happy. Also, because it’s always rewarding—the climax is just as intense as the process in getting there.

But something about being caressed, being tenderly taken care of that makes Jisoo whimper and moan uncontrollably.

As Jeonghan thrusts deep inside him—deep yet easily, seemingly holding himself back from pounding into the Jisoo’s heat, all Jisoo could do is lie on his back and take it.

Hooded and filled with what Jisoo could feel is love, Jeonghan’s eyes never leave his, watching his every expression as he moves to pull his cock to the tip and drives it back in one swift motion. He watches Jisoo’s face contort in pleasure, watches the way Jisoo’s cock twitches onto this abdomen in response, leaking just below his belly button.

Jisoo lets out all the sounds of pleasure that comes out of him. Jeonghan doesn’t go fast—not even when he’s about to cum. He holds Jisoo in place, pushing his cock in and out of Jisoo with purpose. No matter how many times Jisoo prepares himself for the pummeling, it never comes. Jeonghan is dead-set on stroking his wet, tight, searing walls.

When Jisoo cums, he couldn’t help but tighten some more, tipping Jeonghan’s control over the edge. Not long after his release, Jeonghan is coming undone as well, cumming inside him because Jisoo likes feeling him everywhere despite how uncomfortably slick he’ll feel later when he wakes up.

“Sleep well, my love,” Jeonghan whispers in his ear after making sure he’s comfortable, wrapping his arms around Jisoo who revels in the feeling of being safe like this. His voice is tired, too, Jisoo can’t help noting. But there’s nothing much he can do about it when sleep is whisking him away.

When he opens his eyes to a loud tune, Jeonghan was nowhere to be found—it’s not an unusual scene. He’s either at work or just outside the bedroom.

Jisoo is awakened by a phone call.

He didn’t expect Hoshi’s words to be the first thing to greet him so early in the morning.

“Good morning, Jisoo-hyung,” his voice is light, bouncy even through the phone. He sounds more like himself, which is disturbing because it has only been overnight since Seokmin’s funeral, and it stirs something foreboding in Jisoo’s gut.

“It’s already the tomorrow I promised.”

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Jisoo-hyung,” his voice is light, bouncy even through the phone. He sounds more like himself, which is disturbing because it has only been overnight since Seokmin’s funeral, and it stirs something foreboding in Jisoo’s gut. “It’s already the tomorrow I promised. You didn’t forget, did you?”

“I’m not in the mood to play games—”

“I told you, I'll help you, didn’t I?” Hoshi’s voice turns icy. Hairs behind Jisoo nape stand as the caller’s voice fills his ears.

“Hoshi,” Jisoo heaves a sigh, letting go of the sudden mental strain. “If you have a problem with me, let’s just talk about this some other time. I know how difficult it must be for you. Go take a rest for now, alright? I’ll come visit you when you’ve cleared your head.”

“Fine.”

“Good,” Jisoo stifles a yawn, lying on his back because his nether regions are sore.

“I guess all this information I found out about your parents can wait ‘til next time.”

Sitting up abruptly, Jisoo feels his body ache in response, his blood running cold. He might’ve heard that wrong.

“What did you say?”

“What you heard,” he can hear the smile in Hoshi’s voice. When Jisoo who is at a loss for words doesn’t respond after a few moments, Hoshi continues, “Stop trying to play dumb—I’m not in the mood to play games, too. Meet me at the address I will text you. You have to go alone or the help is null and void.”

“Just why are you still on this?” Jisoo breathes out, consciously lowering his voice in case Jeonghan is just outside. “My parents are long gone—information about their death won’t make a dent in my life right now. It’s not like I remember them.”

He does remember them. Vaguely. But how do you grieve people you barely recall?

“Even if I say it would?” Hoshi sounds confident, too confident for Jisoo’s anxiety to rise. “Even if I say it’s probably the reason why you’re with the hyung-nim right now—”

“He has nothing to do with what happened to them,” Jisoo is quick to refute. Jeonghan is only two years older than him, it’s impossible he had anything to do with his parent’s death. These claims are getting more ridiculous by the second.

Hoshi laughs on the phone heartily, and the sound makes Jisoo seethe. “I didn’t know you liked playing at the arcade during school days, hyung.” Eyes widening, Jisoo clutches at his chest. His heart is pounding. “With how uptight you are now, I wouldn’t have thought you were badly behaved as a child.”

“How—”

How could he have known that? Jisoo can’t even ask out loud. He’s not sure if he wants to know.

He’d really rather have this information Hoshi is talking about turn out to be a hoax.

“Meet me if you want to know how I dug up this tiny detail,” Hoshi fucking giggles, clearly amused at how he’s acting all mysterious, at how Jisoo is falling for it. “I’m doing this for you, Jisoo-hyung. If you want it, come and get it. Meet with me. If you don’t come, it’s your loss, and…” Hoshi trails off, voice dropping to a solemn tone. He seems to be hesitating.

“And?” Jisoo asks, worrying his lip unknowingly.

“And you’ll never see me again.”

“What do you mean—”

“This might be the last time, hyung. Sooner or later, the hyung-nim will find out I went to the Ghim clan.”

Treachery.

Jisoo knows how it goes, he has read about it so much from books in the clan’s main house library. The Yoon clan punishes treacherous clan members through outrageous, cruel means. If you’re caught.

Hoshi knowingly committed treachery for whatever this is.

“See you, Jisoo-hyung.” If Jisoo heard it right, Hoshi’s voice wavers. Maybe he’s scared, too? Well, he should be. “Or not. Whatever you decide.”

The line is cut, and soon after, his phone pings with a text notification. It’s the address. Jisoo stares at his phone screen for a moment. He knows he shouldn’t go. There’s nothing to explore. His past doesn’t interest him, and he has Jeonghan today. There’s nothing more to ask for.

It’s just that he can’t help wondering what else is there.

It wasn’t an accident—the way his parents died. There was someone, something behind it. it shouldn’t matter since it has been years since then, but maybe…

Maybe he could at least get some closure? Justice? Jisoo isn’t too sure about what to feel.

Maybe if I was a better son.

Maybe he could have done something.

Maybe now he could do something. He glances down at the address, internally debating if he should, if he’ll even really learn anything new from it.

He wants to deny it, but in truth, some things are starting to make sense.

He was sent to kill the head of the Ghim clan. Later on, Seokmin was sent to an exchange with the same clan. Now, Hoshi is coming to them for information about Jisoo’s parents. Jisoo can’t pinpoint how Seokmin could be related to all these, but somethings are falling into place, and Jeonghan—

Jeonghan is… suspicious?

Does he know anything about this? What does he know? Why isn’t he telling Jisoo about them?

Suddenly, a wave of disbelief washes over him. It’s ridiculous. Jeonghan couldn’t know anything about his parents. He was young then, too. Jisoo was only eleven then. They’ve never even met before. Jisoo reprimands himself for casting doubt on his soon to be husband. It’s just not possible.

“Baby,” a topless Jeonghan calls out from the doorway. Jisoo must not have heard the door open over his loud thoughts. “Who called you so early in the morning?”

Flustered at the sudden question, Jisoo manages to stutter, “Oh, that? That’s just H-Hoshi.”

“What did he want?” Jeonghan joins him in bed as Jisoo takes in the way his pants hangs low on his waist. Sweatpants.

“Just… stuff.” Jisoo asks distractedly, “You’re not going to work?”

“I have something in an hour, but it won’t take long. Wonwoo acted out yesterday,” Jeonghan brushes some stray hairs off his eyes, “You always say that as the father of the family, I have to act like it.”

“Yeah,” Jisoo mumbles. Right then and there, he makes up his mind. “Can I go out? I need to comfort Hoshi. He’s shaken up.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Still? It’s been two days. How attached is he to that rookie?”

If his heart pounds at the suspicion, Jisoo does a great job hiding it.

He gets this vague idea that Hoshi will not be safe if Jeonghan ever finds out he was romantically involved with Seokmin. And like the subordinate said, sooner or later, Jeonghan will find out about him speaking with the Ghims. “It’s nothing too deep,” Jisoo tries to mend his mistake of mentioning that. “He’s pretty sad because Seokmin was really good to him—to us.”

“You don’t have to coddle them, Jisoo, this is why they think they can have your time whenever they want—”

“Please?” Jisoo looks up at him, wide-eyed and hopeful this look on his face works. “It’s Hoshi. I’d like to think he’d feel this bad when the same thing happens to me. After this, he’ll get over it.”

Jeonghan takes one good look at him and then sighs. So, it didn’t work. Jeonghan sees right through him. “He can get over it all by himself—he’s a grown man.”

“But—”

“Haven’t I made myself clear?”

Jeonghan is emphatic. He won’t be moved. Jisoo contains his frustration, keeping his face even when he nods. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just call if he really needs you,” Jeonghan yields as he cups Jisoo’s face, moving to press a kiss on his lips. “Don’t be too upset—Hoshi can take care of himself. I’ll come home early, so you won’t be alone for long.”

“Okay,” Jisoo sigh into the kiss. “I’ll stay home.”

“All right.”

An hour after Jeonghan leaves, Jisoo puts on his work clothes. There’s a gun concealed in a chest holster underneath his blazer—for self-defense if it ever comes down to that. He can’t be too trusting now.

Wherever it is Hoshi wants to meet, he’ll manage by himself. There could be an ambush, for all he knows. It’s not like he can’t protect himself.

Jisoo leaves the penthouse, heart heating wildly in his chest. He can’t believe he hasn’t done that before.

Lying to Yoon Jeonghan is so easy.

This dull, vacant residence where Hoshi led him is too familiar to him.

The gate is rusted, and if he glances up at the walls, paint is chipping off from the old window sill.

He used to live here, used to spend his days watering the bushes and the potted plants in their front yard in an attempt to help his faceless mom, but looking at it now, there isn’t a plant in sight. The only indication that life used to exist here that remains is the brown, wilted, dry grass that makes it look even more deserted.

He thought it would be sold, at least, with a new family moving in or something—

Oh, right. No one really wants to live at a murder scene.

Jisoo fiddles with the gate, and it doesn’t take him a second to notice that it’s unlocked. Hoshi isn’t anywhere to be seen.

It wouldn’t hurt to look around. The house looks untouched since that day.

Stepping into the doorway, Jisoo looks around. He didn’t think it would be this effortless to come back here after all that happened.

The whole house is untouched. But it seems to have been kept tidy unlike the front yard. Some furniture in the living room are still present, but the photos up the walls, the couch and the center table, and the green carpeting are all gone.

Walking over to where he was just over a decade ago, he kind of anticipated to see dried blood that was splattered all over their living room—a reminder of the time when he saw the slaughter of his parents.

For quite a while, Jisoo stands there, staring, remembering the sour notes of fresh blood and the lingering gun smoke in the air.

His gaze drifts to the hall, and suddenly… he gets the feeling that he can’t bring himself to go over there.

Up until now he’d been regarding his parents’ death as just something that happened, something that shouldn’t matter anymore because time has already passed. But the thought of seeing it as it is, the fact that if he moves to anywhere in this house, he would probably remember something he lived to forget.

He doesn’t want to see the pictures put up on the walls nor does he want to see his height markings on the doorjambs. He can’t—it’s just not right.

They’ve been gone for years. There’s no reason for him to bring his memories to the surface. It’s not like that will bring them back—

So, why are you here? A voice in his head inquires. Why did you come?

But before Jisoo could answer that to himself, the front door opens.

A woman in her mid-fifties comes in, dressed in orange traditional clothing, hair pinned taut above her nape, and Jisoo is too disoriented to recognize the Ghim emblem patterned across the bottom of her hanbok’s chima.

Blinking a few times just to make sure this isn’t an apparition haunting him, Jisoo steps back. “Excuse me, who are y—?”

With her head tilted in scrutiny, the woman looks at him as if he’s the most interesting piece in a museum. And it’s unsettling because she doesn’t belong here.

Snapping out of shock, Jisoo’s eyes flit to her outer skirt, and then it clicks in his brain.

“You’re the lady of the Ghim clan?”

The woman’s wrinkled, obnoxiously red lips pull into a smile. “And you’re the lady of the Yoon clan.”

She delights in the way Jisoo looks insulted by her words, the latter failing in keeping his expressions contained.

“Am I mistaken?” The lady drawls out her vowels as if to ridicule him, “Would you rather I call you a gisaeng?”

“Where’s Hoshi?” Jisoo asks instead when he regains his composure. Judging by the way she just tauntingly called him both a lady and a courtesan, this woman wants him to act out like a child. He’s not about to give her the gratification.

“He’s on his way here,” the woman replies, walking smoothly to the hall. She looks back as if telling him to follow, but Jisoo’s feet remain rooted to the ground.

If he sees anything other than this living room, he’s sure that something will come up in his memories, but he’s not sure if he’s ready for it. What if it’s too much? What if he remembers something bad?

What if he remembers something good—so good that it’ll make him crave it back? What if he remembers something so warm—warmer than what he already has today?

He doesn’t know what to do, so he does exactly what he trained for.

Jisoo pulls out his gun from his chest holster, pointing it at the lady of the Ghim clan who does not at all look surprised by his chosen course of action.

She just sighs, looking at him disapprovingly, “Relax, Paragon. I’m not here to cause troubles for you.” Jisoo doubts that. “We tried that already, but it turns out we were sent a dupe.” Is she talking about Seokmin? He shouldn’t be thinking about this—he should be making his move already, yet Jisoo’s finger hesitates at the trigger as he finds himself listening to her every word.

“Your friend Hoshi really does care about that pawn, doesn’t he? He came to me with a proposal that’s just too sweet to ignore. I even warned him that he wouldn’t get anything out of it since no one will rise from the dead even if he does this, but he’s pretty desperate, that one.”

“Don’t fuck with me—”

“I’m not fucking with you,” the profanity coming from a stern old woman is sharp, cutting through the air. “Don’t be childish. Come with me to the dining area. You’d want to sit down for what you’re about to hear.”

“I don’t want to—” Jisoo stops himself, clearing his throat because for a moment there he sounds like he’s responding to her patronizing tone. He keeps his gun aimed at her in any case there’s a watcher he can’t spot from where he’s standing. “I’m leaving. You can take all that information you say you have and shove it right up your—”

“Jisoo-hyung!” Hoshi’s fake-affronted voice sounds from the doorway, “That’s no way to talk to a respectable lady.”

At least finally, something makes sense to Jisoo. Whipping his head to his direction, he mutters through gritted teeth, “So this is where you’ve sold your loyalty.”

Undaunted by neither Jisoo’s tone nor the weapon in his hand, Hoshi pulls some chairs together. He first presents one for the lady, obtaining a gracious acknowledgement. Then, he sits down himself next to her, motioning for Jisoo to take the chair in front of them.

“In exchange for your freedom?” Hoshi brings a finger to scratch at his brow. “I guess I did.”

“That doesn’t mean shit—”

“Will you please sit down?” The woman interrupts him, mouth pressed in a thin, puckered line. She’s growing impatient with all this resistance. “No one forced you to come. You’re here on your own volition.”

“I came here,” Jisoo corrects her, “because I wanted to meet Hoshi.”

“I don’t have time to discuss same differences with you. Either sit down or leave. But whichever you choose, will you let me ask one question?”

It hits Jisoo that he can leave. He’s the only one armed. No one else is in this house.

Hoshi came with the lady of the Ghim clan knowing he won’t kill them.

It makes his blood boil—the way Hoshi thinks of him like that, sure. But he’s more than aware of the way his fingers just won’t pull the trigger on his own.

One question. If this doesn’t make any fucking sense, he’s leaving. He can’t be continuously played like this.

“Indulge me on this one.”

“One question,” Jisoo breathes out, “Make sure it’s worthwhile for you because after this I’m sending my men to wipe your whole bloodline out.”

“I’m sure you’d be too indebted to us to do anything of the sort,” Chuckling behind a hand, the woman bares her teeth in a smile that is just too bright. Before Jisoo could retort, she asks the questions she’d been goading him with, “So…what is it like to spread your legs for the murderer of your family?”

As soon as he hears it, Jisoo scoffs. This again. “Jeonghan was a child then, Jesus. If you’re going to lie, at least be consistent.”

“Clearly, you didn’t grow up as an heir of a family, but here I thought you’d at least know what it’s like since you’re about to marry one,” the woman derides, making sure she’s staring Jisoo down despite the gun aimed at her. And it’s frustrating—a silent challenge. Kill me. Shoot that gun. And Jisoo can’t, as much as he tries to pretend he can. “You’ve been in this world for quite some time. Surely, you have an idea how young the children are when their fathers teach them how to do their dirty work.”

“No—” Jisoo shakes his head in disbelief, his limbs suddenly weakening at the words. That’s so… wrong. To use a child. But he’s not going to fall for it. This woman could be exaggerating. There’s no way Jeonghan could have done that at that age.

Right?

“Even if Jeonghan’s father really did kill my parents, it has nothing to do with me now,” he says firmly, despite the way he lowers his weapon. He can’t keep his arms up, not with the possibility that the lady of the Ghim clan is not inventing this story.

“I don’t know why you’re omitting your lover’s involvement, but it seems like you’re deliberately refusing the fact.”

“Jeonghan and I met way after that,” Jisoo insists through gritted teeth.

“Hyung,” Hoshi says, looking at him with what Jisoo thinks is pity. “Hear us out.”

“Why should I trust a traitor?”

Never has he seen anyone change demeanor as fast as Hoshi does.

“Tell me, are you that fucking stupid and ignorant to not doubt the fact that out of all the whores in that cabaret, out of all the fucking supermodels he could have, he magically appeared on your first day and whisks you away like a princess?” Hoshi scoffs, looking amused. “I knew you were innocent at heart, that the killing machine in you is something artificial installed by Yoon Jeonghan, but I didn’t think you’d be this naïve. Your loyalty can only do so much for you—”

“Come on, boys,” the woman speaks up, placing a hand on Hoshi’s shoulder to stop him from saying anything more. But the words pierce through Jisoo’s heart as soon as they leave his mouth, and the pain destroys something in him. “Let’s all get along.”

But Hoshi doesn’t want to stop. Seokmin was ruined. He’s going to be ruined.

God help him if he lets Jisoo be destroyed by Jeonghan when he could have done something about it.

No. Jisoo will be the one to destroy Jeonghan. If there’s anything that could bring that man down that man, it would be his prized possession.

“It’s difficult to absorb all these, Paragon. I understand your confusion,” the lady of the Ghim clan tries to dilute the tension between them, “but there are only three people who know about the death of your parents, and you already killed one of them.”

“Are you saying you and your perverted husband are the only ones who know about this?” And Jeonghan, apparently, but there’s no proof of that.

Waving off the mention of her husband, the lady of the Ghim clan gestures to the chair. Jisoo concedes, sitting yet firmly holding onto his weapon like it’s a railing to keep him up. This is his only defense he has in any case any of them tries anything.

“I sincerely apologize if my good-for-nothing late husband made a pass at you. As you can see, him succeeding the previous clan head put our family name under such precariousness. But his death wasn’t worth much to us, if that was what the Yoon clan head thought when he sent you to kill him.”

This isn’t… making any sense.

“Then why did you attack one of us—”

“My husband’s death meant almost nothing to the clan. He was more of an old liability that has been weighing us down. No one wanted to exact revenge because of that, Paragon,” the woman explains, her posture and poise are perfect under Jisoo’s sharp gaze. “We thought the Yoon clan head would send you to that exchange. That’s why we opened fire.”

Upon hearing that, Jisoo’s eyes turn to Hoshi, looking for anything on his face because he just heard about Seokmin’s death being his burden to bear.

“Is this why you’re ruining my life?” Jisoo chuckles dryly as he believes he has it all figured out. “Because you think I’m responsible for the death of someone you’ve known for less than a fucking month?” This is a breach of trust that Jisoo has never imagined he would go through.

Unlike what he expects—truthfully, Jisoo doesn’t know what to expect anymore—Hoshi remains calm.

“I’m giving you a chance to know the truth about what you lost,” he says, eyes not leaving Jisoo’s. He’s not about to back down—not when they’ve come this far. “This is my loyalty to you, hyung.”

Now that he thinks about it, Hoshi has never cried for Seokmin since the day he died.

It’s so fucking unfair to be the one in the scrutinized seat right now.

“So, I should’ve been the one ambushed, is what you’re saying,” Jisoo let his words pierce through Hoshi, trying to get a rise out of him. Anything. Show me you’re human. “That’s that then? Jeonghan had sufficient reason to send him. He wouldn’t want me dead in your hands. Using Seokmin for that is justified—”

“I’m getting tired of this. Talking to you is like reaching a stalemate with a child,” The lady of the Ghim clan sighs, face dropping into an expression of disdain. “I was the one who ordered to have you killed on sight. Do you know why I did that?”

“No. And I don’t care—”

“Yes you do, Paragon. That’s why you’re here.”

Jisoo falls silent. This doesn’t feel right. She’s openly patronizing him and it’s fucking annoying.

“More importantly, do you know why your parents are dead?”

“You…” The tremble in Jisoo’s voice fail to mask itself. “You know?”

The woman nods once, and what comes out of her mouth is something Jisoo has never even heard of before.

“Yoon Jeonghan’s father,” she says Jeonghan’s name tightly, like it physically pains her to do so, “didn’t want the Ghim family to rise further. To end the ongoing blood feud while securing their victory, he had his thirteen year-old son kill the real heir of the Ghim clan.”

“The real heir?”

“Your father never wanted to take command, Hong Jisoo. He would’ve resisted becoming the clan head, anyway. He wanted a normal life for you, that’s why he took your mother’s family name.”

This is absurd. And the more Jisoo hears more of it, the more inconceivable it seems.

His father is the real heir of the Ghim clan? So that must mean he’s the brother of the clan head he killed in that alley. Jisoo wants to say they look nothing alike, but it’s not like he remembers his father’s face.

His surname is his mother’s. She got that right.

Difficult as it is to admit, the more Jisoo hears more of it, the more things come to light.

“If what you’re saying is true,” Jisoo tries to take control of his emotions, tinting his voice with carefully crafted detachment, “Why would you want to kill me?”

“You were nothing but a nuisance to my plans,” she says, not even batting an eyelash, “The Yoon clan keeps a fourth director position open ever since Yoon Jeonghan became clan head. And I wanted to get that position to..” she trails off to, Jisoo would think, give some thought on whether or not she should reveal her true motives, “…poison the Yoon clan from the inside. They did murder the rightful heir, after all.”

Loyalty comes in many forms.

“How does that concern me? A position like that will not be given away to someone who betrayed their own clan, anyway,” Jisoo furrows his brows in confusion. This lady just admitted to her willingness to betray the Ghims just to be a Yoon clan director. And her plan would have backfired even if it did happen. A traitor will be treated as such everywhere they go.

Holding that thought, Jisoo’s gazes flits to Hoshi.

He won’t be an exception.

“I know, I should have considered that. But I was desperate since the Ghim clan was nothing under my husband. It wasn’t the way it was before,” she explains, “As for your involvement, it’s considered taboo to marry someone outside the clan. Sooner or later, he’ll be asking you to take that position. I didn’t know that you two were planning on marrying then. I just figured that since he was offering it to you, someone who had been displaced from the throne, he’d be willing to take me for the job. I had the experience.”

“The Yoon clan under Jeonghan has never valued seniority,” he says mindlessly, but Jisoo can’t comprehend any of this.

Technically, Jeonghan never lied. He just never told Jisoo any of this—not about his childhood. Not about Jisoo’s life. And there’s no way he couldn’t have known.

But isn’t lying by omission still lying?

“My only regret,” the lady of the Ghim clan sighs, watching Jisoo internally battle with himself, “was blackmailing him with information about your parent’s death. I didn’t know he’d go so far as to having our clan head killed. The clan head wasn’t effective, but he was a source of power and order. Now, it’s chaos within our line.”

There it is. Her purpose. She’s not just here to give away explanations, to reveal Jisoo’s entire forgotten identity.

Nothing in this world is free.

“What do you want me to do about that?” Jisoo asks, taking in every movement of her eyes. She’s right. She has the experience, and it’s perfected throughout the years that shows in the lines on her aged face. Letting out a laugh that’s so shaky it sounds more like a breath of air, Jisoo jests, “You want me to be your clan head? Be the rightful king of the Ghims?”

“That is exactly what I came here for.” Flashing him a smile, the lady of the Ghim clan lays out all her true intentions on the table. “It’s not treachery if you become our leader because you have always belonged to us.”

“Why tell me all these now?” Jisoo challenges her, “If you really need me to run this clan, why just now?”

“Initially, you had no value to us. You never grew up with the values of the Ghim clan. Your loyalty is to a different clan head. And your father hated the idea of being head, so we knew you wouldn’t be much different from him,” she honestly tells him, not sugarcoating a word as her hand comes to rest on Hoshi’s shoulder, “but your friend here promised me that if I speak the truth about your identity, the Yoon clan head will surely fall. That’s enough incentive, in my opinion.”

Hoshi doesn’t speak a word, but he does watch Jisoo with eyes filled with… hope. Jisoo doesn’t even know what that means.

“Yoon Jeonghan stole two of the Ghim clan’s heirs,” she says, “and it’s about time we get one back.”

Numb to his very core, Jisoo unthinkingly replies, “I’ll think about it if you answer one more question.”

“What is it, child?”

“Why did Jeonghan keep me for all these years?”

For the first time since they’ve exchanged words, the lady of the Ghim clan lets her face fall, lips pressed in a thin, grim line.

“I’m afraid only the Yoon clan head can answer that for you,” she says with so much ruefulness, “but that man is sick in the head, Hong Jisoo. Don’t trust me, if that’s what you wish, but don’t be foolish and trust him, either. He has stolen everything from you.”

A sharp pain from his thighs jolts him out of his trance. Jisoo’s nails are digging on his leg without him even noticing. He hears her and her every warning. He feels Hoshi’s gaze. He’s suddenly so aware of the life around him, the lack of answers for all of the universe’s questions boggling his mind.

“We’ve tried for years, Paragon, but no one can cut him down,” her words echo in his head even when they left and he’s alone in that empty living room, “No one other than you can end him.”

Suddenly, there’s this weight on Jisoo’s shoulders—one he never thought he’d ever have to carry.

Chapter Text

Ever since Jeonghan was little, he knew he was born for greatness.

At a very early age, he knew what perfection could grant him. The generational wealth that he was born to inherit and the incontestable honor that comes with it were both free. He already had it running in his blood. He just had to act the part.

Comes with honor and wealth is blind loyalty. No one’s an exception.

He used to wonder just how much he could push it—what more can he do with what he has? And during that moment of pondering, it was entertaining to watch people around him trip over their feet trying to please him. Never daring to bite the hand that fed them.

He was brought up in a normal school environment despite what happens daily in the massive basement of their home estate. 

Looking back, he always hated the idea of going to school.

“Yoon Jeonghan! Here! Sit with us.” 

A group of kids with flashy gadgets and accessories that his middle school rightfully prohibited would call out to him every single day. But because these students’ parents donated generously to the institution, no one questioned whenever they had their way.

Frankly, Jeonghan was always repulsed by their behavior. It’s as if they take their guardian’s honor as their own. He’s nothing like these scums.

But since no one would approve of him sitting by himself during lunch time and it would not benefit him in any way if he completely shunned these people out of his life, he figured he had to tolerate their presence. 

Can we come to your house? I heard you have a big fountain indoors!

They didn’t have a fountain indoors—that’s an exaggeration that kids in his school spread around. The estate was traditional even in structure. 

Jeonghan would shake his head no, saying his father wouldn’t like it if he brought friends over. And their faces would fall, not knowing Jeonghan craved that sliver of moment when he can almost hear them clearly thinking he’s just being selfish. That exact moment when they thought they'd found something to hate about him.

And Jeonghan’s entertainment will start and end there because he’d invite them to one of their hotels instead. They would hang out, Jeonghan would swipe cards, and just like that, everyone would fall to his feet. It didn’t matter if they all wanted him to fail because at the end of the day, they all want to be around him.

He was a walking opportunity to them. Jeonghan learned his value at an early age. And he knew he was priceless.

He learned that he smiled charmingly, that his eyes weren’t expressive at all if he wasn’t mindful, so he had to make up for it with a gently framed smile to get what he wants. And if the situation called for it, he also discovered that he sometimes made the mistake of letting his gaze turn cold—a habit he consciously tried to alter whenever he noticed.

“I heard from your keeper that you seem ready for the family business.”

One day, his father came to his room when he was studying on his desk. He looked incredible in an all-black, three-piece suit. Jeonghan dreamed of wearing one, but he was just too young to participate in anything that required one. His father’s eyes were dark and droopy, making him seem like he’s calm and collected at all times. Even when he was punishing someone in the basement, Jeonghan never saw his eyes change. They remained the same whatever the circumstances were.

His father was his role model, but to say that he looked up to him would be… well, it would be inaccurate. He always thought his father was great because he was older —he got to wear clothes that show off his status without seeming gaudy, he got to order people around with every single one of them following his every word, and he got to play god .

Jeonghan always wanted to know what it was like to play god. To control things. To be incharge. To have fun while being one.

His father was great then because he was bigger than Jeonghan in physique. Every adult was just an aging child in Jeonghan’s eyes. 

Jeonghan had always known that he could be better than his father. 

And to do that, he’d have to watch his mistakes closely so that he could never commit them again.

So, when his father told him to come with him to see what the family business was all about, Jeonghan bowed his head in a show of obedience and reverence. His father was big on the extravagant display of loyalty. 

This was the first mistake Jeonghan learned not to pick up. It’s dramatic. Unnecessary.

He didn’t have to, anyway.

“You know what you have to do, right?”

He did. 

He learned by watching his father fire bullets, embedding them in several men. He learned by being a part of the spectators down the massive basement of their home estate whenever his father wanted to punish people.

He stood there and watched people he never even heard of die under the calm gaze of his father.

If he had questions, he was expected to ask, but in the entire course of his immersion, he only had one:

Who are these people?

No one important— that was how his father answered. 

And it was good enough for Jeonghan. As long as their deaths didn’t trouble him , there shouldn’t be any problem.

In his second year of middle school, the same flashy kids would ask him to hang out after class, but Jeonghan was bored of them already. He wanted to see blood when it is in its darkest. He wanted to see someone writhing in pain, begging for their life, even while knowing begging is futile because Jeonghan’s father was death himself. Those people knew that seeing him would mean the end.

When he voiced those desires out, everybody thought he was just into the gore genre. The next day, it was the campus trend.

Jeonghan went straight home and into the basement every day after school for some months. 

So, yes. He did know what to do. 

But this was the first time he was allowed to do it. There's a rush that coursed through his veins, though it didn't show on his features.

In front of him was a house that would be considered humble next to his own. His father said the couple who lived inside were nice people. They would invite him in if he just pretended to be lost. 

Jeonghan didn’t like the idea that he had to act , but that was his father’s order. There was no way to disobey. And besides, he was the one who knew a lot about the family business. Jeonghan was still learning.

His father then handed him something. 

It was the first time he ever held a gun.

He didn’t think it would be this heavy and cold in between his palms.

“Come in, you poor thing! Let’s call your parents for you—they must be worried.”

His father was right. They were good people.

Upon entering their home, Jeonghan noticed the pictures put up on the walls. 

A family portrait hung in the middle of several photos of a child looking a little younger than him. Some trophies and plaques of appreciation were displayed on a decorative table, too. Jeonghan knew the logo on it—the Staff of Asclepius. He once read it off a book about Greek mythology.

Do you want some cookies while you wait?

This must be the mom. She was really pretty, looking exactly like the boy in the photos.

Jeonghan’s mom couldn’t even look at him without the unmasked fear in her eyes as if she gave birth to a beast. 

But this mom is gently smiling down at him.

For now , Jeonghan thought. 

If she knew about the gun underneath his parka, she would be scared, too.

“As expected of my son.”

His hands shook when he stepped out of the house, the smoking barrel of the gun pointed away from him because the fume irritates his nose. He learned to love the scent in the future, but during that very moment, it was stuffy. 

He didn’t know what to expect when he pulled the trigger—he thought it would be difficult to fire, but surprisingly it wasn’t that bad. The experience was light, like he was turning a switch on and off with his index finger as if he’s playing with one of his airsoft pellet guns. It kind of got addicting, at one point, so he fired a bit more than necessary.

It was okay. The couple didn’t mind. They fell asleep right away.

In hindsight, he knew he did well. He even got the stance right the way he observed his father at the basement, expecting the gun to produce recoil that would send his weight flying back, but it seemed like the gun he had was made for a child like him.

Jeonghan stared down at the slight tremble in his hands.

That was thrilling.

His father promised to grant him everything he wished for, but at that moment, Jeonghan only wanted one thing.

And it’s something he knew his father could easily give him.

“Can I play outside?”

When they were on the way to that house, Jeonghan noticed this arcade through the car window. 

The blaring neon lights from coin-operated machines piqued his attention. He wanted to try shooting that gun game as practice, but his father would not have approved of that, so now that the task is out of the way, he got a chance. So, he asked if he could play.

His father couldn’t really say no. If it pleased his son, then why not? 

Jeonghan stood in front of the arcade, looking from the outside. He didn’t know where to start. He’d never been here before.

Do you have someone to play with?

Jeonghan’s attention was captured by the softest voice, and when he turned to look at the owner of the voice, there was a child.

There was a child, looking a little younger than him. The boy in the photos.

He looked just like his mom. He was wearing the same gentle smile as he looked up at Jeonghan.

I don’t.

Then, will you play with me? He asked, blinking up at Jeonghan. I came here on my own, too.

Jeonghan couldn’t kill a single zombie in the game. Jeonghan couldn’t win a single ticket. Jeonghan couldn’t get past the first level.

You don’t play a lot, do you? You’re not very good at this.

I’m not allowed to go out without an adult. Today is my first time.

Oh. Well, I do this all the time. 

Does your father let you?

No. He doesn’t know. I skipped school just to come here.

That’s not good. You should follow the rules.

But kids are mean. No one wants to be friends with me at school. I’d rather fight zombies.

I’ll be your friend.

Really? 

Yes. 

What’s your name?

I’m Jeonghan.

I’m Jisoo! I’m eleven years old. You’re my hyung!

I guess I am.

Blaring lights forgotten, Jeonghan spent the entire time watching the boy in the photo laugh in shame, exclaim in victory, and throw a fit in frustration as he played the games.

What do you want?

Huh?

I won tickets. If we go to that lady over there, we can exchange it for candy!

Oh. I didn’t know we could do that.

Yeah, well, we can. Now, choose your favorite—Ooh! I’ll have the strawberry cream lollipop. What about you?

Jeonghan haven’t had one before. He wouldn’t know. But the boy in the photos smiled so bright when he received one, and all he could think about was how nice a strawberry cream lollipop must be if it can make someone smile like that.

That one, too.

Alright. Here you go!

How much is it?

Uhh.. Um… Five tickets?

No, how much is it? What do you want for it?

Nothing. It’s my gift to you.

Why? What for?

I don’t know—You’re just my friend.

Something about that made Jeonghan’s heart want to leap out of his chest. He mirrored the smile Jisoo had on his face, and for the first time, he did it to show what he felt.

And you’re mine.

Jeonghan stared down at the slight tremble in his hands.

The lollipop was too sweet to forget.

The boy smiled gently, and Jeonghan saw distant, blinking stars in his eyes.

The boy in the photos looked so much like his mom.

His father promised to grant him everything he wished for, but at that moment, Jeonghan knew he would only ever want one thing. For the rest of his life.

And it wasn’t something his father could get him. It was something— someone he needed to claim on his own.

“Your father expects you to be at home by eight, doryeon-nim .”

Saying goodbye had never been this painful for Jeonghan.

He finally found what he wanted most. But he couldn’t have him. Not yet. It was too early.

His father would meddle.

Now that Jeonghan pondered about it, his father didn’t mention anything about getting rid of the boy. 

Jeonghan’s task was to dispose of the couple. Only the couple.

When Jeonghan was locked in a trance in a car on its way back to their estate, he played in his mind in detail the day spent with the boy in the photos.

There was something unforgettable about the stars in those eyes.

His only friend.

His .

Whenever Jeonghan looked back on that day, he always smiled.

What a good memory.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo accepted disciplinary action well. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, that’s for sure. The good thing about this is that Jeonghan gets to go home early as planned.

When the car pulls up in front of the building of their home, Jeonghan leaving the keys to the parking valet, he already has an inkling.

As he steps into the penthouse, he isn’t too surprised to see that Jisoo is gone.

He might have gone to the store in disguise or to the salon to touch up the roots of his hair—things that he can well do in the comfort of their home with Jeonghan’s influence, but he enjoys doing such mundane things on his own.

Jeonghan lets him, somewhat, knowing it gives him a sense of freedom.

If it were up to him , though, he would chain Jisoo in their bedroom. He would treat him like a king. He would give him everything he ever wanted in the world as long as he never leaves.

But even if, currently, it is up to him, it’s also up to the people who know about the existence of Jisoo. The people who will wonder where he went when he’s gone. One would think once the parents are out of the picture, there will be no problems, but Jeonghan finds his angel stealing the hearts of people around him.

He doesn’t miss the longing look in Seungcheol’s eyes when they follow Jisoo across the room. Not the bright, caring smile Hoshi gives his fiancé. And even the fondness in Mingyu’s face when he greets Jisoo through the doors ticks him off.

Lee Seokmin shouldn’t have pushed his buttons. See , now… he’s dead.

Jeonghan wouldn’t hold the entire thing against him, though. Some of the reasons why he had to die just stem from the fact that the new recruit was at the wrong place and time. He chose a sensitive time to hover around Jisoo. Jeonghan watched closely, carefully dissecting every movement, every word, and it was immediately clear to him that the newbie was going to get attached to his angel.

Jeonghan had made it clear that Jisoo is not something people can take—much less borrow—from him, but sometimes, some people think they can get away with it.

Lee Seokmin shouldn’t have pushed his buttons. Jeonghan had to make an example out of him.

But he’s not a complete demon like how people like to think he is. He kind of feels bad now that Wonwoo let something slip to him earlier.

Apparently, Lee Seokmin was with Hoshi. Huh. He wouldn’t have guessed that. Jeonghan has always known that Hoshi has it in him, and if he dares say so himself, the subordinate might make a good clan head in another life when he’s born as one. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t tell. 

If he knew they had something going on, his jealousy could’ve been kept at bay and he would’ve gone easy on the dead man.

Or not. Nothing’s certain. It still depends on his mood.

Jisoo should be back right now. Where could he be at this hour?

Surely, not with Hoshi, right? Jeonghan was very clear when he said no.

After pouring himself a glass of bourbon from his collection, Jeonghan loosens his tie as he settles himself on the couch, watching the view of the Seoul skyline through the glass of ceiling-to-floor windows. The sun is just preparing to set, tinting the sky with hues of yellow and orange.

Lately, Jisoo has been a bit  more speculative about the things around him. Like he’s finally seeing things that were always in front of him. 

“You could’ve known. You always know.”

Not always. There has to be facts before Jeonghan could plan out his next moves. Just like how a simple information about Hoshi being chummy with Seokmin could have saved the latter from Jeonghan’s annoyance. If he knew that, things could have turned out differently.

He wonders, as he stares at the glaring skies, if Jisoo’s loyalty is finally wavering.

It’s about time he finds out. Maybe Jeonghan should throw him a bone or something? Give him something to think about, something that would make him consider the things that have been happening in his life ever since Jeonghan came into the picture.

Fate .

It truly was fate. Jeonghan didn’t lie. Jeonghan never bothered to hide anything since what happens in the dark always comes to light, anyway. The cards he’s been playing always lead to the truth—deferred at times, but nevertheless, it’s the truth.

See, he doesn’t know how Jisoo will take the truth, how he’ll react once he finds out that Jeonghan had a huge part in his life even before he knew. And if that’s the case, then he should be scared, or troubled , at the very least, but...

But, the thing is, he’s not really afraid of the light.

Jeonghan fishes his phone out only to toss it to the other side of the couch. 

Nothing from Jisoo. That must mean he did meet with Hoshi today. Against Jeonghan’s words.

As Jeonghan takes a swig of his drink, he manspreads on the couch, feeling his bones rest as he stretches an arm out on the back of the couch. He drums his fingers lightly against the grooves of the leather, matching the audible ticking of the clock. Something is coming very soon.

Was the penthouse ever this quiet?

“We found someone that matched the profile.”

His life was the same tone all throughout. And knowing Jisoo was out there without him made Jeonghan pursue some horseplay in high school.

Fights that broke out because of petty things, alcohol, women, and at some point, drugs—

His father wasn’t pleased, but Jeonghan, despite being a force to be reckoned with, never did seem like he was losing himself in any of it. The clan head during that time was worried for his son’s well-being, but never enough to intervene. He knew that Jeonghan knew what he was doing, his son was always cunning, always scheming. He had immense self-control, but that was what became the most concerning part of him.

Just what was he doing all those for?

People would wonder. Jeonghan made himself seem like he was easy to read, simple-minded. But in truth, no one got close. He kept everyone at arm’s length—far enough to not comprehend his intentions, but close enough in case he needed entertainment.

And this cycle of bad habits perpetuated until he got into a prestigious university without the help of his old man. Jeonghan easily got the highest score in the admission test—a fact that was never contested yet still brought awe in people’s faces not only because of how great he was, but also because of how he acted during his college days.

Parties, fights, alcohol, women, and at some point of even more experimenting, drugs—

But it didn’t stop there. Jeonghan lived an indulgent life. Whatever he wanted, he got without lifting a finger. 

The entire future of someone he helped out of a trouble he created.

Someone’s precious virginity.

Even his right-hand man’s first love. 

It was all too easy. 

But they never filled in the hole in his soul that was always meant for the boy back in the arcade.

When he got a call from one of his father’s men that they found someone who matched the profile in a red-light district cabaret called Layflower , Jeonghan tasted sweet strawberry cream in his mouth.

Are you sure?

Certain, doryeon-nim. He’s called Hong Jisoo. Murdered parents. Currently Lives near Cheongnyangni 588.  

The photos they sent featured someone Jeonghan almost didn’t recognize—a pale, thin, fragile male entering a whorehouse with a woman he couldn’t bring himself to care about. He looked scared, alert in the pictures, but Jeonghan will never mistake those effortlessly graceful, feline features for anything else.

His debut will be on the seventeenth—

Oh? He’ll work there...

Yes, doryeon-nim, under the alias Angel.

So fate can be owned, too, Jeonghan thought to himself in triumph.

One photo in particular showed Jisoo smiling with his eyes in a show of politeness. Regardless of its emptiness and lack of gleam, it was ever so beautiful in Jeonghan’s eyes.

Wait for me, my angel. I’ll come for you.

Half a bottle of bourbon later, the doors quietly swing open, and Jeonghan turns to see his angel come in.

Jeonghan isn’t inebriated enough to not sense the dark halo that enters with him. Or maybe it’s the fact that the lights are off? 

That, and Jisoo is clutching a gun in his hand.

The exact one Jeonghan gave him back then when he was invested in the clan’s blood pact.

Something ‘s wrong with the calmness in the air.

“Where have you been?” The door closes in response to his question, Jisoo’s face still obscured by the way he’s bowing down. Jeonghan tears his gaze away, opting to look back at the twinkling city lights. It’s already dark outside.

“I met with Hoshi,” Jisoo says, his voice even and controlled. It’s a surprise to Jeonghan how he just honestly answered. He thought there would be more tough chewing—a bit of a fight, some deceit in hopes of watering the confrontation down.

But Jisoo seems to be acting like everything is normal, even if, for split seconds—Jeonghan would miss it really if he wasn’t paying attention—his voice cracks, his words slip.

Jeonghan caught those eyes that were trained to the ground before he turned around. They were uncharacteristically blank.

So this is how Jisoo wants to play.

“I told you not to, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

Jisoo’s voice sounds distant, but Jeonghan can feel his eyes bore holes on the back of his head. Somewhere behind him, Jisoo is watching his every move.

Jeonghan is impressed.

“I expect you’d have a good reason for it.” Jeonghan traces the rim of his empty glass with a finger. The alcohol in his system is lighting a fire in him, but it’s not so much that he doesn’t have a grip on himself. “You don’t just do things, Jisoo.”

“He told me…” Jisoo trails off, but Jeonghan finds himself patiently anticipating his words. “He told me some things about my parents.”

“Oh, so you heard, then?” Jeonghan plays it off coolly, settling the glass down the center table. He props his elbows on his thighs, chin resting on entwined hands as he eyes the skyline.

Jisoo stays quietly hovering behind him.

“If you have something you want to know,” Jeonghan says in the silence, “Ask.”

A sigh escapes the younger’s lips, and he hears slow footsteps behind him. When Jisoo speaks, this time, his voice is louder, nearer. 

“Were you really that young?”

“You’d have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.”

“Were you really thirteen when you shot my mom and dad?”

He really never fails to enamor Jeonghan. Everything Jisoo does is so optimal— just the way the clan head likes it.

Jeonghan leans back, feeling the metal of the barrel of the gun kiss the back of his head. So he guessed right. 

The number one rule is to make sure you and your target have some distance with their back facing you. That way you gain the upperhand. But why is Jeonghan so amazed by this? He’s the one who taught him everything he knows.

Maybe it’s the fact that he never really imagined Jisoo would be doing it to him.

This is so thrilling. Jeonghan could feel the blood pumping through his veins.

“You said you were eleven when you lost them. That sounds about right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Speaking slowly, Jeonghan drags his words, giving Jisoo time to absorb them before he does something rash that he might regret later. “Tell you what exactly? That my father put a gun in my hand and ordered me to shoot your parents?”

Voice chipping around the edges, Jisoo hisses, “You know that’s not what I mean—”

“Would you have accepted me if you knew?” There’s no challenge in Jeonghan’s words. Just genuine wonder of the could have been ’s. “Would you have loved me, Jisoo?”

They’re valid questions. They’re enough to explain why Jeonghan didn’t tell him anything, but if anything, Jisoo never asked.

And that’s not on Jeonghan anymore. The chance was always there. Jisoo just wanted to close his eyes and move on without knowing, without facing it head-on. 

He was always scared . That’s why Jisoo finds his mouth going dry, finds himself unable to provide any answer for that because he doesn’t know what to feel .

He ‘s just not sure about what’s important to him today.

“You killed my family,” Jisoo seethes, and Jeonghan doesn’t miss the way the metal behind his head quivers the slightest bit. “And you killed Seokmin.”

Jeonghan stands, staring straight ahead as he walks closer to the windows. The city lights outside twinkle, but they’re never as bright as the stars in Jisoo’s eyes.

If he looks back right now, Jeonghan wonders what kind of glint there is in them.

“I can take full responsibility for your parents, even though I was a child, since you seem fixated that I did it wholeheartedly,” he says, fully aware of the gun still pointed at his head, “But I didn’t kill Lee Seokmin.”

“You sent him on a suicide mission in my stead—”

“ You sent him on a suicide mission.” From here on out, it’s the truth. “ You told me to send him because you’re in a rush to make him part of the family. It’s you who did that, not me, Jisoo.”

The moment Jeonghan looks back, Jisoo charges at him, wearing an expression on his face that is utterly devastated, so delicious to Jeonghan. With his forearm, he pins Jeonghan by the neck against the solid glass windows. The force of the boss’ head hitting the surface brings forth a loud thud, but other than that, there’s no sign of the glass breaking any time soon. 

Jeonghan can’t help imagining what will happen if they both start plummeting to their death. 

Jisoo would be so beautiful even in that moment.

“Don’t you fucking dare fault me for that,” Jisoo breathes out in his face, trembling in anger as he watches Jeonghan’s face break into a sardonic smile. 

“So you’ll blame me?” Jeonghan whispers softly, like he’s talking gently to a child and not someone who currently has him cornered. “That’s alright. If it helps you, you can take it all out on me.”

“What the fuck are you—?” Jisoo cuts himself off, unable to resist the urge to strike a blow, his other fist meeting Jeonghan’s cheek. It’s not fair—the way the older seem to have this whole thing under his control when Jisoo’s the one who has been wronged for years.

It’s so fucking unfair, he could die. Right now, he can’t see the man he loves. He can only see the one who murdered his parents and his new friend, on a whim. He can only see what could have been his life.

Jeonghan’s back slides down the glass, but Jisoo’s forearm keeps him upright. Licking the corner of his mouth, Jeonghan looks up at him. The penthouse is dark, but the city lights illuminate Jisoo’s face well enough, reminiscent of a childhood memory—vivid flashes of the fluorescent neons back at the arcade come flooding in.

Jeonghan can taste strawberry cream instead of blood.

“Why aren’t you fighting back!?” Jisoo hits him again, this time letting go of the arm pinning Jeonghan against the glass. He tosses the gun flying somewhere on the floor, the loud noise it creates booming as it falls forgotten. At the jab, Jeonghan falls, coming down onto his knees. 

Jisoo assumes a fighting stance, desperate for a hit from Jeonghan, but the clan head doesn’t move , only looks up at him, wearing that mellow look on his face.

“I can never hurt you, Jisoo,” Jeonghan sounds tender, like he’s coaxing him to calmness, and it’s not—it shouldn’t be that way. “Not in the way you want me to.”

“Don’t do that .”

“What?”

“Act like you didn’t just steal my life from me.” His thoughts are incoherent. He doesn’t know what to say, what to think . “They were my family, Jeonghan.”

They weren’t. They were gone too soon to even be family. Jisoo couldn’t even grieve them in his entire life.

He’s grieving not what he lost. He’s grieving what he could have had.

I’m your family, Jeonghan thinks but doesn’t say out loud. Jisoo already knows.

Suddenly, fatigue washes through him as he realizes Jeonghan will not retaliate, will not even beg for his life. “I’m hurting you,” Jisoo sobs more to himself as frustrated tears finally come flowing freely, pain releasing from his chest like freed butterflies, “Why won’t you fight back?”

“Because I promised to give you everything that you wanted,” Jeonghan gazes up at his tear-streaked face reverently, the cut at the corner of his mouth stinging with every word, “Because you’re mine, and if I die in your hands, it would be my greatest honor.”

As Jeonghan slumps on the floor, Jisoo stands before him.

But he doesn’t feel powerful at all.

In fact, he doesn’t even know if he’s doing any of this for anything .

When he looks down, Jeonghan is tugging at his hand in a silent ‘come join me here,’ and Jisoo finds himself sinking to the ground. Jeonghan cradles his hand in his own mild ones, stroking the back of it as he watches Jisoo try to gather himself.

“What are you fighting for, angel?” Jeonghan asks, pressing a placating kiss on his hand, “What am I supposed to be dying for?”

Jisoo finds himself unable to answer that.

What am I fighting for?

“What are we doing?” Jisoo asks him back, and it’s becoming a recurring theme in their relationship—a question answered by another question, both unwilling to forfeit ground. 

But before Jeonghan can answer, Jisoo makes the greatest mistake in his life.

He looks straight in Jeonghan’s eyes, and all he could see is love that he always, always had with him—from that moment in the cabaret, to him losing his first time to Jeonghan, to the night he proposed, to that time at the amusement park—the best day of his life. 

And it's like everything he questioned suddenly makes sense even when it shouldn’t.

What is it like to spread your legs for the murderer of your family?

Jisoo can’t bear to see the answer in Jeonghan’s eyes, so he looks away.

“If you have anything you want to know,” Jeonghan repeats his words earlier, “Ask.” Hand coming up under Jisoo’s chin, he tips his head up until their gazes are meeting once again. “I will answer honestly. Everything you want to know, angel. Everything.”

“What happened on that day?” 

They’re still on the floor, in the dark, but the lights from outside are enough to see each other’s face. Jisoo has his back flush against Jeonghan’s chest, their legs stretched out on the floor. He can’t make himself look at his face because it’s bruised from his own punches. Jisoo’s not sure if he can hold out long if he keeps seeing his face.

And his eyes…

They just won’t let go of him.

“Where do you want me to start?”

Jisoo shuts his eyes tight as he prepares himself, “The very beginning. Why you were there, why your father made you do that— ” he takes a deep breath, voice thickening “—why it all happened in the first place…”

“Alright,” Jeonghan rubs soothing circles on his back, but it doesn’t help alleviate the heaviness in his stomach. “I was studying, then, in my room when father said I was ready for the family business,” he starts the story from the very beginning, telling him everything about how he did it to Jisoo’s parents, how he planted bullets in their heads easily with a gun that was so soft and forgiving, how he received praise right after, even how he felt—

“It felt good , Jisoo,” Jeonghan admits, knowing Jisoo will get what he’s saying, “I’m not sorry for what I did—that’s father’s job. But I am sorry that it had to be your parents.”

“You don’t mean that,” Jisoo says aloud for the both of them, “You said you wouldn’t lie.”

And it’s true, Jeonghan didn’t mean the apology, but it’s not the worst if he felt a sense of pride knowing Jisoo knows him.

“Well, it was an order. I didn’t feel a thing about them being anyone’s parents if I’m being honest,” he offers, thinking about whether or not it’s good to mention the next thought that crosses his head, but he does, anyway. “You really look like your mom.”

“Really?” Jeonghan’s glad he did mention it because Jisoo suddenly sounds brighter than he was mere seconds ago. “What did she look like?”

“Hm, if my memory serves me right…” he trails off in a display of thought, pressing a kiss on the back of Jisoo’s head, “I’d say she looks exactly like you. Just with long hair. Very pretty.”

Jisoo’s hands unknowingly creep to his own face. He had a mother, and she looked just like him.

It feels odd—to be cuddling on the floor with the one who murdered them in their home, but Jisoo figures nothing has ever been normal in his life.

“But that doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Jisoo questions upon realizing.

“What doesn’t?”

“That doesn’t explain why you came for me in that cabaret.”

He doesn’t know how to go about this, but he tries. “Do you remember the arcade?”

“Horrible memories of being a bad son and skipping school,” Jisoo mumbles self-deprecatingly, “Of course I do.”

“Well,” he changes the course of the question, “Do you remember me from the arcade?”

Jisoo turns his head so fast he almost breaks it, “You were there?”

“Yeah. We played the zombie game.”

“Oh.”

“You gave me a lollipop.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember?”

“Not really,” Jisoo admits. “So you came there after killing them?”

What strange words coming out of his mouth.

Jisoo doesn’t feel normal.

To be honest, this is the first time he has felt real .

“Yeah, as a reward from father, he let me play outside,” Jeonghan moves to kiss Jisoo’s nose before the younger turns to face ahead again, “And then I met you.”

“And then what?”

“And then,” he takes Jisoo’s hand, intertwining the younger’s fingers with his, “You saved me.”

“From what?”

“From living life without you.”

Jisoo chuckles, “That’s stupid.”

“It isn’t,” the older insists, feeling Jisoo’s back move along with his giggles against his chest, “It’s true. Meeting you, wanting you for myself—it kept me going. Made me the person I am today.”

“You were worse without me?” He sounds incredulous.

Jeonghan lets out a laugh of his own, though it sounds tired, “Yeah. I stole Seungcheol’s first love, you know?”

“You didn’t,” Jisoo gasps.

“I did,” Jeonghan affirms, “I thought it would make me feel whole if I had everything everyone else wanted.”

Silence fills the air as Jisoo ponders over his next questions. There is still so much he wants to understand. 

“Did you know I was supposed to be the Ghim clan head?”

So he found out through the lady. Jeonghan knew he kept her alive for a reason.

“I didn’t know then ,” he confesses, “But I found out much later, when I was digging through your history.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Why didn’t you try to find out on your own?”

Indeed, Jisoo could have found out himself. About his parents. About Jeonghan. Everything about his past. 

But he chose not to. 

Shrugging, Jisoo lets his weight rest on Jeonghan, head falling on the older’s shoulder. He looks up at him in that position, eyes tracing the line of his jaw, the profile of his face as much as the lights from outside allow him. “I was afraid that I’d be the reason why I have no one.”

“You have me,” Jeonghan meets his eyes. Even if they’re swollen from crying earlier, he can still see the brightest stars he has always admired.

“ You’re the reason why I’m alone.”

“Still,” Jeonghan points out, “You have me .”

He recalls the days before he met Jeonghan—the dark alley, the disgusting, beat-up mattress, the lifestyle of someone at the very bottom of society, the cabaret…

The emptiness. 

The wait for something—a purpose— to come.

Everything in his life only made sense the moment Jeonghan claimed he wanted him out of everyone.

There’s no use fighting that.

What is it like to spread your legs for the murderer of your family?

Jisoo thinks back to this question as he spends the night in the finest bed his back has ever touched, with the man who showed him gentleness beyond comprehension, touches light and warm and fiery and deep all at once. 

It’s not painful, not uncomfortable, not the end of his life. 

Since the beginning, Jeonghan never lied to him.

In it’s own fucked up, distorted way, it truly is fate.

And fate is never wrong. It never makes sense. 

Fate is always a hundred steps ahead of everyone.

Hoshi sits in his apartment unit in anticipation.

Any time now. 

The smallest of sounds jolts him in surprise. It’s ridiculous, how a frail coat hanger could make him squeal like a bitch.

He sits on the couch, watching the front door, waiting for the strike.

His gaze drops to his watch.

The sun must be setting outside, but he can’t actually tell aside from the time—not with the windows shut and covered and wrapped.

And then, there’s a knock on his door. Hoshi sits still.

“Come in.” 

He does his best to will his voice to sound even, but the air in his chest is thick , and he feels like crying, but no tears would come out of his eyes.

A gunshot flies from the person who entered, striking too quickly for Hoshi to notice the hole in his chest, expertly placed in his lung, giving him time to see who the visitor was. The blood spurts from his sternum—metallic crimson, a reminder that he’s human. The pain is agonizingly dawdling like dripping molasses. 

He’s looking ahead, at the view of the sunset, reds and oranges, and yellows and blues mashing together to form a bloodshot dome in the sky—except he’s not because he doesn’t get that privilege. 

His certain gaze lands on him.

So this is how it ends. 

Hoshi was hopeful. 

He was foolish.

I’m sorry, the visitor murmurs, face devoid of any emotion.

He always heard it from people.

That the moment you die, your life will flash before your eyes. That there are a few minutes where you’re conscious at death’s door, and whoever created you takes pity and gives you time to remember how you lived.

Maybe to give you a few seconds to ask for forgiveness. Maybe to give you a few moments to remember what it was like and what it will never be again.

He feels like crying, but no tears would come out of his eyes.

For Seokmin’s death, he couldn’t shed some. 

And even in his own, he can’t.

How pathetic.

With a gasp for air, Hoshi manages to breathe out, incoherent even in his own failing ears.

“P-Please cry for me,” he pushes through his increasingly tightening chest, “ Jisoo-hyung .”

Before pain could reach Hoshi for the first time, Jisoo ‘s weapon kisses his forehead. As he lets out a voiceless gasp, the last things that send him off are the smell of gunsmoke and the words from his good friend.

It won’t be painful anymore.

You’re okay. 

You’re okay.