Archive of Our Own ^beta

2096, Seoul

On the ninety-eighth floor of a skyscraper in Gangnam-gu, a blonde secretary paced nervously around the room, checking that the coffee machine was filled with espresso capsules; and examining the thermostat for the seventh time that morning. It was five minutes to seven, and the boss was an early riser - so the whole office was, naturally, at work at six thirty.

It was a punishing schedule, but everyone was used to it by now. And those who weren’t prepared to get used to it - well, they didn’t last five minutes in the building.

There are two ways out of this place, an older secretary had joked, through the window, or out the door. Which way you choose is entirely up to you - though I think the window would hurt less, for some.

The secretary had thought the joke was distasteful and rather extreme at first. But it had been a month here - and she was starting to think that the window was looking pretty good.

She glanced at her watch - two minutes to go.

Exiting the office, she headed down the long marble corridor to wait by the elevator, the day’s schedule on the tempered-glass display that she held in her hand. Sure enough - just a half minute to seven, the lift buttons on the private elevator had begun to make an ascent.

The lift door dinged, and the girl took a deep breath.

“Good morning, Mr…”

“Mm,” the dark haired man gave her a cursory glance, before handing her his briefcase. She received it with trembling hands - hoping to God (for the thirtieth time that month) that she wouldn’t drop it.

She scurried behind the young man - who strode swiftly down the corridor, the heels of his Armani shoes making an ominous echo as he went. His long legs made it extremely hard for the girl to keep up - so she resigned herself to breaking into a semi-jog to keep up with him.

“What’s on my schedule today?” the man asked, sweeping into his office and moving straight to his desk. With a swish of his hand, the electronic monitors flickered to life - displaying ten different morning news channels. He frowned as he observed the stock market numbers, before directing his gaze to the girl.

“Your schedule is clear today except for a brunch meeting with Mr Kwon, at the Capitol. Then another meeting at three - with the rest of the board.”

“Move the board meeting to tomorrow,” the young man said, flicking through his messages quickly. “I told you to keep Capitol days flexible for my schedule. Is there anything important to be discussed that would warrant me making the trek back here?”

“Well - Nam from Digital said there was a potential venture in Beijing to be explored that needed your attention, it being time-sensitive…”

The man’s eyes shot up, as he glared at the secretary.

“Beijing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sohye - it’s Sohye, isn’t it?”

“It’s Sunmi, sir - Sohye was the previous…”

“Ah, yes, five secretaries ago. Tell me, Sohye, where do we live?”

“Sir…”

“Where do we fucking live, Sohye?” the man said, his voice sharp and dangerous.

“S-seoul, Sir.”

“And what year is it?”

“I don’t… understand… 2096?” she stammered, her bottom lip trembling.

“Election fucking year, Sohye,” the man said, rising to his feet, placing his hands on the table. “And you’re telling me that my time, on a day that I have to visit the Capitol and look the President in the eye and tell him we don’t have dick on the campaign messaging - is better spent in a meeting where we discuss how to take on a media project in China?”

The girl shivered, wilting under his gaze, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Fuck off out of my sight,” the man said, waving her away as he settled back into his armchair, swivelling around to face another panel that had popped up on his screen, blinking bright red.

She bowed low, and scuttled out of the room, wiping tears out of her eyes. As she closed the door behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief, before eyeing the nameplate across the office’s entrance with a look of deep loathing.

Jeon Jeongguk, it said. CEO.

It was precisely ten thirty when Jeongguk slipped into the back seat of his limousine - his briefcase in his hands once again. He flung it onto the seat next to him, sighing as he leaned into the soft leather of the Bentley.

“You know where to go,” he said, as he input the coordinates of the capitol, and the controls of the car revved to life.

Jeongguk was still getting used to the idea of not having a chauffeur. Somehow, growing up, he had always aspired to being chauffeured about in a fancy automobile - but, as it turned out, the pinnacle of success had since extended beyond that. Apparently, not having a chauffeur, and being able to whiz around the capital in a state-of-the-art driverless limo was the new pinnacle.

Jeongguk watched through the tinted windows of the car as the scenery sped past. Seoul was devastatingly beautiful in the late morning - the sunlight shimmering on the brilliant skyscrapers that rose toward the heavens. Jeongguk loved living in Seoul - the city burnt electric with light and promise; and with the world at his feet, there was very little that he couldn’t do.

No doubt, there were, occasionally, pressures that Jeongguk faced. For instance, the fact that he was, at the moment, driving to meet the President of Korea with what looked to him like an incredibly sketchy idea of what the initial campaign strategy would look like. Or the fact that, that very morning, he had received a rather scathing email from his mentor detailing how, despite his best efforts, the stock market had failed to bounce back when the market opened.

Jeongguk dealt in a business that was… niche, to say the least.

Few people had met him - as he often preferred to deal with his clients through an anonymous video link. He was, notably, reclusive in the extreme. He had burst onto the scene eight years ago - a mere boy of sixteen, clutching his laptop - but they had hailed him as a genius; the mastermind behind the rapid ascent of President Yang’s popularity.

In the industry, amongst those who knew him - he was known as the Wolf Boy - his vicious political strategies having rightfully earned him that reputation. Like a rabid animal, he had eviscerated Yang’s political opponent in the 2086 election - leaking a choice selection of the governor engaging in child pornography, of all things - through a high school student’s social network account. And in 2091 - it was rumoured that the Wolf Boy had orchestrated the downfall of a prominent, up and coming politician by hacking the man’s security cameras and releasing several sex tapes with high-end escorts and photos of the man meeting with members of the Korean mafia.

Long story short - the Wolf Boy was fast, ruthless, and efficient in the extreme. Nothing was too unsavoury for him, it seemed.

And that was why President Yang liked Jeongguk so much - be it setting political rivals up in supposed drug busts, or leaking sex scandals - Jeongguk was fine with it. And no matter what he felt, or thought about the President, Jeongguk had done his dirty work. He had been loyal for years - the shadow in the darkness, cleaning up the President’s messes.

For the right price, at least.

Jeongguk spent little time contemplating the rights and wrongs of his deeds - it was, after all, hard to find fault with his current arrangement. He had been paid any price that he asked - because the President (and his Chief of Staff) thought him to be of significant value to their operations. Jeongguk had enough money in his bank account to last him a hundred lifetimes - and, truth be told, he enjoyed the work, in a slightly sick, twisted way.

After all - it was a power trip - watching the lives and legacies of powerful men crumble beneath his fingertips.

A soft knock on the panel of his car jolted Jeongguk out of his reverie. Frowning slightly, he realised that he had reached the gates of the Capitol building. He moved forward, flicking a switch to lower the window.

The security robot outside his car window held out an iris scanner. Sighing, Jeongguk brushed his long fringe out of his dark eyes, and looked into the lens.

“Jeongguk, Jeon,” the robot announced. “Entry to all areas - clear.”

Jeongguk grunted, and rolled the window up again as the Bentley sped on, whipping past the Capitol gardens and right into the President’s residence.

The President had chosen to shift his operations, breaking protocol. For years, presidents had lived in the Blue House - but Yang had other ideas. The presidential residence was now a multi-level underground bunker - that could, it seemed, withstand nuclear blasts and army attacks. Why he needed a bunker fit for a Bond villain, Jeongguk did not know - but it was cool, he mused.

Jeongguk’s Bentley slid into the driveway, rolling up in front of a lush red-and-gold carpet. At the end of the carpet, behind sliding doors made of bulletproof glass, Jeongguk spotted a familiar face.

“Chaerin noona,” Jeongguk said, smiling slightly as he bowed.

Chaerin coughed, acknowledging his warm greeting with a slight bow. “Jeongguk, it’s good to see you again.”

“Are you well?” he asked, as she escorted them down the hallway, beckoning to Jeongguk to scan his irises once again and punch in his Capitol ID.

“As well as I can be,” Chaerin said, sighing. “Your hyung - that crazy bastard - he sent me off to America again last week. Just got in this morning - a bloody fourteen hour flight. No amount of champagne in first class can make that journey better.”

Jeongguk chuckled slightly. “Sounds like my hyung. Before I started going solo he kept making me do long flights to places just because he didn’t want to make the hike.”

“Jeongguk, it’s not manly to gossip,” came a deceptively soft, gentle voice. It’s owner rounded the corner - and Jeongguk beamed.

“Jiyong hyung, it’s been a while,” Jeongguk said, bowing low and greeting his mentor. Jiyong nodded, and returned the greeting.

Jiyong had not changed in the three years since they last met. Though they kept in close contact via text messages, Jiyong’s life as President Yang’s chief of staff kept him from having any form of social life whatsoever. The man was married to his job - and Jeongguk saw that it had begun to take a toll on him.

Though Jiyong’s face was powdered with what looked to be a thin layer of makeup, Jeongguk saw that the eyebags around his catlike eyes had become darker over the years. Yet Kwon Jiyong - being Kwon Jiyong - was immaculately groomed and dressed to the nines - a custom-tailored Chanel suit hugging his lithe body, and Gucci’s latest designs on his feet. Jeongguk wondered where the man found time to shop, but he assumed that Chaerin had something to do with Jiyong being so put together.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Chaerin said, bowing as she retreated. Jiyong tilted his head a little, motioning for Jeongguk to follow him.

“We have a lot to discuss, Jeongguk,” Jiyong said, ushering Jeongguk into a lavishly decorated sitting room. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, and plush velvet dining chairs surrounded what looked to be a gold plated dining table.

“Wow,” Jeongguk said. “This is…”

“Fucking ostentatious? Hell yes,” Jiyong said, chuckling, as a serving boy came in, wheeling a tray laden with bread, exotic fruits, fine cheeses, and hot beverages. “You know how the President likes it - the flashier, the better.”

Jeongguk laughed, and nodded as a scone was placed on his plate. “I’ve missed you, hyung. I’m so glad we’re going to be working together again.”

Jiyong smirked. “Ready to cause some trouble, aren’t we?”

“Always ready,” Jeongguk said, lifting a cup of black coffee to his lips. It tasted bitter on his tongue - much unlike the sweet lattes that Jeongguk had become accustomed to drinking - but he always went along with whatever his hyung drank.

“I’m glad to hear that,” came a thin, nasally voice. Jeongguk stood up quickly, directing a polite bow toward the man who had just entered the room.

President Yang Hyunsuk was a portly, middle aged man; one with a rather unassuming and smiley countenance - that Jeongguk knew belied a cunning mind. Behind him trailed Dong Youngbae - the head of his security detail - a stocky, muscled man, who was small in stature but fought with the fury of an attack dog.

Jeongguk had grown up with them - Chaerin, Youngbae, and Jiyong - but now they had their own jobs, responsibilities and agendas. Nothing was the same, Jeongguk thought - not when you lived at the peak of power. People and things changed - and now everything was, strictly, business. Yet his respect for Jiyong and President Yang’s core team remained unchanged - they were a lethal political force to be reckoned with - and the people who tried to wrest power from their hands often ended up rueing the day they were born.

Did Jeongguk like President Yang? Well, no. But did he at least believe in his policies? From Jeongguk’s standpoint, that had ceased to matter years ago. All there was, in Jeongguk’s opinion, was the work. Holding it all together, when the chips were down and the stakes were that high.

After all, Jeongguk liked playing the game - and, more importantly, boy did he love winning.

“Jeongguk,” the President shook his hand, and Jeongguk managed a smile. “Growing more handsome by the year.”

“You flatter me, sir,” Jeongguk replied coolly, settling into his seat as the President took his.

“So let’s get down to business,” Yang said, as a servant poured coffee into his cup. “We’re a month before the candidacy is announced, and I trust we have a rough strategy to work with.”

“Sir, Lee is set to announce that he’s running this year, as you might know,” Jiyong said. “He’ll probably be a threat to us on several key platforms - healthcare, the economy, and homeland security - fairly conservative messaging overall. Also - despite Jeongguk’s releasing of the classified information we spoke of - the markets did not bounce back this morning as well as we thought they would.”

Jeongguk stiffened at those words. No doubt - he was good at his job; but that didn’t mean he was a miracle-maker. The won had plunged in the previous weeks due to the Yang administration’s heavy taxation of several large international companies. Jeongguk’s leak of classified information detailing corruption within those firms had done little to soften the blow - and the markets continued to bleed.

It was not his wound to suture, but it was his fault, apparently.

President Yang made a noise of assent. “I noticed. Jeongguk - what’s your plan.”

Jeongguk looked at the president, his face impassive. “Sir - we’ll have to wait for Lee Soo Man to announce his candidacy before we make our move. It will take me a while to find the information we need - he is notoriously private.”

Jiyong frowned. “Haven’t you been working on this for a while, now? How hard is it to find a scandal?”

“It’s there,” Jeongguk said. “We just have to dig deeper. But, Mr President - I was going to suggest… a slightly different approach this election. What if we moved toward building our own platform to run on, instead of taking the offensive?”

Yang snorted, and Jiyong cut in, smoothly.

“Jeongguk, the only way we have won,” Jiyong said, “And the only way we will win, is through fear. Making the opponent unviable - making ourselves the best choice in comparison - that’s how we work.”

Jeongguk suppressed a sigh, and straightened his back.

“Alright,” he said. “I agree with you.”

Jiyong smiled, his lips curling at the edges. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. You’re an attack dog, Jeongguk. Stick to what you’re good at. After all, you already know how this ends.”

Jeongguk nodded, his eyes cold and glazed over. “I know.”

Of the many days Kim Namjoon had worked in politics, he had seen good days, and bad days. This, however, was decidedly not one of the good days.

“Dear lord,” Namjoon groaned, clutching a fast-melting ice pack to his throbbing forehead. “This is the worst. I cannot possibly sink lower than this.”

“I wouldn’t speak too soon,” Jin said, dryly, flicking through the social media feed on the display panel in Namjoon’s messy, cramped office. “People online are having a field day, look at this shit show.”

“I would say we need to rethink the security detail where you make your speeches, but a) we don’t have the money,” Hoseok said, stifling a laugh when Jin shot him a death glare. “And b) you kind of did it to yourself.”

Namjoon moaned plaintively as Jin pulled up a particularly choice video of him at the event that evening.

It had all gone well - he was making his speech, smiling - and then a heckler had thrown a peach at him. A motherfucking peach, Namjoon thought. Peaches are for eating. Why the fuck would you throw a fucking peach?

“Why the fuck would someone throw a fucking peach at me?” Namjoon yelled, gesturing wildly at the screen.

“Hold on, it gets better,” Jin said, his voice tight with frustration.

The camera view shook violently as Namjoon, still reeling from the peach-hit, whirled around in confusion, before keeling over and falling right smack on his face, hitting the edge of the podium with a sickening thud as he went down.

“And then the video cuts out, thank fuck,” Jin said, slumping into a chair. “God, Namjoon - why…”

“Don’t,” Namjoon said, closing his eyes and trying not to pass out. “Don’t say anything. I’ve had it with your nagging. You were yammering on the whole car ride here - I’ve had enough -”

“Oh, have you?” Seokjin growled. “Had enough of campaigning? You’d like to throw in the towel? Be my fucking guest.”

“God, Jin would you just shut the f-”

“Kids,” Hoseok cut in, pushing Jin back into his swivel chair. “Stop, please. Between  one of you nearly knocking yourself out on a podium and the other coming close to a massive aneurysm in a campaign office, I think you’ve both had enough drama for today.”

Namjoon sighed. “This is going to haunt me for the rest of my political career.”

Jin scoffed. “If you even have one after tonight. What the fuck were you even saying - we need to overthrow the establishment; cast off the yoke of our oppressors - from peach farmer to peach seller, we must rise up and break out of our chains!”

Namjoon closed his eyes, flushing red. “I got kind of worked up, okay.”

“No wonder you got hit - I wanted to fucking strangle you myself just to make you shut up. Jesus. Besides, what’s with your fucking obsession with peaches?”

Namjoon removed the ice pack from his forehead, tossing it into a nearby bin (that was already overflowing with waste paper).

“Fuck - can we focus on damage control? What do I have to do?”

“Nurse your head,” Hoseok said, “And get a good night’s sleep, for once. And most of all - stop getting into fucking accidents. I might be head of your security detail but I can’t protect you from yourself. Deuces, see you in the morning, boys.”

Namjoon scowled at Hoseok, flashing a middle finger at his back as the latter exited the room and disappeared down the hallway.

Jin chuckled, and walked over to him, resting his hands on the desk. Namjoon glared up at him, and observed the shit-eating grin that was spreading across his face.

“Look, Namjoon, it isn’t that bad,” Jin said, laughing a little. “At least we get people talking about us. They might not know you, but at least now they know your name. Imagine the headlines - Kim Namjoon: just peachy…”

Namjoon covered his face with his hands, smothering a wail into his palms. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“An idiot who has to look over his speech before the event tomorrow morning,” Jin said, straightening up and reaching for his tablet. “I’ve just sent it to your mailbox - it’s a revised version, with all mentions of agriculture removed. Due to the… incident, today.”

Namjoon sat up in his chair, and switched on his desktop monitor. They worked with terribly backward devices in the Independent HQ (for one, due to a lack of funding - and also because Namjoon was one of those hipsters who, regardless of technological advances, had adamantly refused to get one of those transparent tempered-glass screens with floating displays).

It had been a month since the major parties had announced their candidates for president. Obviously, President Yang was running for another term; and more surprisingly, businessman and media mogul Lee Soo-man had entered the race. The news had been filled with a deluge of news related to both presidential candidates - and had all but ignored one rather nondescript young governor who had thrown his hat into the ring as well.

Three weeks in, and Namjoon was starting to understand why they said presidential campaigns took a toll on candidates. He had never felt this much pressure even when he was running for governor back in 2091; when he had been the youngest governor ever elected to office. And now, he was running for goddamn President of Korea, and his head felt like it was about to explode into a million pieces.

Well, partly because of the peach, and the podium, Namjoon thought, but mostly because of this fucking election.

While Namjoon didn’t actually think he stood a chance in hell, running against two candidates with powerful corporate and government backers, he was a man on a mission. If I could just get one person to listen to me, he had told Jin, then I would have changed one person’s life - and there’s some meaning in that, isn’t there?

It was that mission that had brought him to where he stood now. The current governor of Ilsan-gu, running for the highest office in the land - with a staff of, well, four people, not counting himself.

Jin - his right hand man - had been in the same year at Seoul National with him. Despite being the vice president of the student council, Jin had not shared his political ambitions - but had, nonetheless, been roped in to help with Namjoon’s race for governor. He was now Namjoon’s indispensable chief of, well, three staff - and worked day and night; writing speeches, making calls, and accompanying him at every step of the campaign trail.

Then there was Jung Hoseok - or Hobi, as Namjoon called him - who owned a private security firm. Hoseok had met Namjoon at an inter-collegiate party back when he was at Yonsei; and had been so taken in with Namjoon and his lofty political ideas that he had, in a fit of drunken inspiration, drawn up a contract for his company (or rather, his father’s company) to escort Namjoon to every press event. It was through this rather interesting progression of events that Hoseok, slightly grudgingly, had become his chief of security - but they, nonetheless, had lots of fun on the (hopeless) campaign trail together.

And then there were two boys that Namjoon was convinced were the worst staffers of all time.

Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung had come as a pre-packaged set. Namjoon had received a joint application from both of them, in an envelope labelled Park Chimchim and Kim Taetae’s Quest for Justice, and had thought it was a complete joke. However, in a spot of boredom in between campaign speeches, Namjoon read their resumes and was sufficiently impressed to call them in for an interview.

He had no idea how “Park Chimchim” and “Kim Taetae” had made it to Harvard (because they were completely insane) - but they had. They had both graduated in the same year - Jimin from the liberal arts faculty and Taehyung from political science. They had jointly written an impassioned essay on why they wished to join Namjoon’s campaign as an independent candidate - and had displayed a similar amount of enthusiasm at the interview. Half an hour of a display of surprisingly astute political acumen (combined with puppy eyes and cajoling) resulted in Namjoon hiring both of them to be staffers.

“This job comes without pay, though,” Namjoon had warned them. “You’re going to be working for free for a year. Living in the office. Eating stale pizza for weeks. Do those terms sound acceptable to you?”

“No problem, Mr President,” Kim Taehyung had said loudly, saluting him. “All for one, one for all!”

So it was with much sentiment and gratitude that Namjoon looked back on a fulfilling (well, somewhat) three weeks on the campaign trail. Hoseok had been nothing but efficient, as always; and while Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin could not get a coffee order right to save their lives, they were a delight to have in the office.

And most of all, Namjoon was so grateful to Jin. Broad-shouldered, insanely pretty Jin, who was, currently, working around the clock to edit Namjoon’s speeches and arrange appearances, all while looking like a model fresh off the set of a Vogue photoshoot.

He was decidedly, an extremely lucky man; he thought.

Namjoon’s train of thought was broken by a slightly miffed Jin waving the tablet in front of his face.

“Earth to Kim Namjoon. God help us - did the flying peach actually give you a concussion?”

“No,” Namjoon grunted. “I’ll look through the speech before the event, you should go home and rest.”

“Nah, no need for that, I napped in the taxi. I was saying - I wanted to talk to you about something interesting I’ve observed.”

“Hmm?” Namjoon said, reaching for a cup of coffee. “What is it?”

“Well, in the last three weeks, we’ve actually noticed a rise in your, uh, voter base, if you will - amongst the young, college-educated portion of the electorate. Now, this is where your appeal is - social media. The peach thing is going to turn into a meme…”

“Oh god…”

“And so is the incident last week where you accidentally tripped over the wires at that university event and nearly broke your tooth…”

“Shoot me, just shoot me…”

“But it’s not all bad. While some people see you as a bit of a joke - which you are, let’s face it - they’re actually listening to your speeches. Sharing them online, commenting on them in a positive light. Keywords show an increase in positive tonality on most posts, it’s good stuff.”

Jin projected the figures on his tablet, showing Namjoon a graph. Hell, Namjoon thought - it was true. He was appealing to the youths - but not nearly enough to make any sort of significant difference in voting patterns.

“It’s a good start,” Namjoon said. “But I don’t know if it’ll do anything for me.”

“So this is where I had this idea,” Jin said, his eyes flashing with excitement.

“Go on…” Namjoon said, eyeing him cautiously.

“So I saw this report that one of the two idiots out there - it was Taehyung, yes - had done up in college. In his undergraduate thesis, he found that the last two elections had been swayed by massive social media campaigning, that turned the tide of the election. Yang wasn’t supposed to win in ’86 - he had been, arguably, the least popular candidate back then. Middle aged, not exactly charismatic - but this force on social media lynching his opponent, whipped up by clever little tag lines - it was magic.”

“So what do you propose we do? We have neither the manpower nor resources to find dirt on either candidate, and that’s not quite how I want to win the election,” Namjoon said, his brows furrowed.

“No - what I’m saying is, Taehyung actually tried to find the root of this tidal wave of social media support - and he traced it back to this mysterious figure who goes by a pseudonym Wolf Boy. Apparently, he’s a social media genius - went to M.I.T. at thirteen; graduated at sixteen - and has been working as a free agent ever since.”

“God, Kim Seokjin,” Namjoon groaned. “You’re formulating an election strategy based on Kim Taehyung’s Nut Job Political Conspiracy Theories 101?”

“The thing is,” Jin said. “It’s not a conspiracy theory. I read the report, and if my memory doesn’t fail me - I think I’ve met the Wolf Boy, once. And you - Kim Namjoon - if you want to become the next President Elect of South Korea, you’ll want to get to know this guy. Fast.”

“Park Chimchim,” came an annoyingly sing-song voice. “Wakey wakey! It’s a new, new day!”

Jimin groaned and rolled over onto his belly, pulling the sheets over his head. His face had only just hit the pillow, and his irritating hellion of a best friend was waking him up again.

“Park Jimblejammies!” came the voice, again. “Jimothy! Jiminie baby!”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim Taetae…” Jimin moaned, burying his face into his pillow. “For just five minutes… shut… the fuck… up.”

Taehyung gasped, launching himself onto the Jimin-shaped lump of blankets on the bed. “You insult me, good sir! I take it upon myself to raise you from the sluggish depths of your slumber!”

Jimin yelped as Taehyung tugged on his hair, pulling him forcefully out of bed. “What the fuck, you complete maniac, let go of me!”

Taehyung grinned - a shiny, rectangular flash of teeth - and pinched Jimin’s cheeks. “We’ve got to go to work, Chimchim! It’s five thirty and Jin hyung told us to report at six thirty sharp!”

“Goddamn it,” Jimin moaned, checking his phone. “Alright, I’m going to wash up…”

“Okay, Chimchim! I’ll make coffee while you get your cute butt into the shower!” Taehyung laughed cheerily and hopped off Jimin, running across their small, studio apartment to the open-plan kitchen.

As Jimin shuffled sleepily into the bathroom and into the showering pod, Taehyung busied himself with fiddling with the coffee machine. He knew just how Jimin liked his coffee, and only he (or so he believed) could make it right.

They had been roommates in Harvard, and when they moved back to Seoul, Taehyung had somehow, found it hard to hold down jobs for more than three months. Taehyung swore it was because of the economy, but Jimin knew a little better - it was because Taehyung was absolutely shit at pretending to be normal at work.

So Taehyung had ended up moving in with Jimin in his small studio apartment in Ilsan. It was less of a bachelor pad and more of a shitty one-room flat, but the both of them had made a little nest out of it - Taehyung with his inflatable mattress on the floor, and Jimin on a bed that looked like it was about to fall apart. But it was home, and Taehyung loved every inch of it - from the malfunctioning security system to the rusty stove hob.

It was also mostly due to Taehyung that they had both ended up working on the “Kim for President” campaign. Jimin had, unfortunately, found himself laid off at the gallery where he worked - due to drastic budget cuts on arts investments by the Yang administration. Meanwhile, Taehyung had been jobless, again, when he’d passed by the Ilsan office.

A week and a half and one interesting interview later, they were both staffers on the Kim campaign - and Taehyung had never been happier.

He had sucked at almost every job he had held - from a role in corporate consultancy, to a rather unfortunate stint at the bank (where he’d lost them half a billion won due to a clerical error). But at the campaign office, Taehyung believed he had truly found his calling - even though he wasn’t exactly sure if he was any good at the actual work.

Yet Taehyung felt so much passion for this cause - a passion that he had never felt before, since his days campaigning for a minority candidate to win the Harvard student presidency. Politics was a dirty, brutal game to many - but Taehyung saw the sheer possibility it offered; to effect the change he wished to see.

Unlike Jimin, who had been reasonably privileged, Taehyung had been born into a dirt-poor family in Daegu; and had worked, all his life - to go to school, to get to Harvard. And Taehyung wished, so badly, that there was a way for him to help other kids like him - kids who dreamed that they could be more than the cards they were dealt. And this campaign - this candidate, Taehyung thought, was the way.

Kim Namjoon was nothing short of radical, but he had a unique, promising appeal to voters that extended beyond the far left. He promised to better the lives of people - and had interesting, novel approaches to do so - which was more than Taehyung could say of the Yang administration. Taehyung had studied the rise and success (or lack thereof) of the Yang presidency at college - and all that he could say about President Yang was that he had a terrible track record with everything, but had still, somehow, won re-election.

Taehyung had an inkling of the reason why - the mysterious Wolf Boy, who many thought to be the CEO of Sirius Inc. On the books, Sirius Inc. was listed as a private consultancy firm - but everyone in Korean politics knew that it was most likely a front for a massive public relations agency. The Wolf Boy was rumoured to be only twenty-six - two years younger than Taehyung - but he had single-handedly orchestrated the rise of a political party - and had made the presidency.

Taehyung disliked the Wolf Boy, to some extent, for his dirty tactics in exposing candidates and causing major upsets to the elections. But, at the same time, he held a grudging admiration for the man - and the extent to which one person could hold such immense influence on an election.

If only we had him on our side, Taehyung thought, we would have this in the bag.

But they didn’t - so Taehyung resigned himself to fetching coffee for his presidential candidate, and playing games on his phone during office hours (when Seokjin wasn’t yelling at him to get his arse in gear and schedule meetings, or the like).

“Are you seriously playing Candy Crush?” Jimin said incredulously, towelling his wet hair as he emerged from the bathroom. “No one’s played that in fifty years, honestly.”

Taehyung looked up, and winked at Jimin as he walked past, shirtless.

“Oh man, look at them abs, Chimchim!”

“Dear lord,” Jimin muttered under his breath, pulling a shirt on. “Control your thirst, get laid, I don’t care. Just stop thirsting after me.”

Taehyung snorted, looking down at his phone. “You’re frigid, and boring. And besides, Candy Crush is way more interesting than your chocolate-bar abs, Chimchim.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Alright, you may touch my abs once today, for stress relief. But only once. Now let’s get going, or we’ll be late.”

Taehyung grinned, and slung his arm over Jimin’s shoulders, grabbing his blazer on the way out. “Let’s go! Watch out, world! It’s Park Chimchim and Kim Taetae’s Quest for Justice - Day Twenty-two!”

Jeongguk felt a little nauseous, and was seriously contemplating shooting himself. However, a pointed look from Jiyong suggested that if he did not mix with the guests at the event, the shooting might be done for him.

it would be a rather fitting concept for the Yang administration, Jeongguk thought, having bloodstains all over the hors d’oeuvres.

It was the ten-year anniversary of the Yang Presidency, and the administration had decided to hold a massive party at the Blue House. All governors from the House, friend and foe, had been invited to the party - as well as powerful investors and backers in the election. Jeongguk had, of course, been invited - but he was, for one, more inclined toward anonymity; and the thought of mingling and schmoozing paunchy old men was just not quite his scene.

Jiyong, however, was a natural, as he had always been. His eyes - a deep, haunting grey today (courtesy of his cosmetic lenses) - were piercing and all-knowing; and he moved from person to person, whispering words of flattery, his voice light and dripping with sweetness.

Jeongguk had once admired him - the ease and grace with which he moved; but now, it made him a little sick.

The president was soon to give his address, and Jiyong had busied himself talking to Kang Daesung, the health minister. Jeongguk saw a window of opportunity, as Jiyong turned away - and vanished into the crowd of revellers. 

The ceremonial hall in the Blue House was enormous, and Jeongguk hardly knew where he was going. He slipped past several low-ranking officials, and moved swiftly toward the West Wing. Jeongguk was eager to get out of the hall - because his tie was, all of a sudden, beginning to extremely tight around his neck. He had to get some fresh air, and fast, or he was going to projectile vomit all over his bespoke shoes.

In his haste to exit the hall, Jeongguk brushed past a tall, broad-shouldered brunette man. The man’s taller, bespectacled companion (who was, rather unfortunately, in a slightly ill-fitting suit) looked familiar - but Jeongguk couldn’t quite place him.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk muttered an apology as he swept past - ignoring the pointed way in which the brunette stared at him.

“Oh - it’s -” the man started, looking as though he meant to speak to him - but Jeongguk broke into a bit of a run as he spotted the revolving doors of the exit. He didn’t care to stop and talk - not when he was seconds away from choking on his own spit.

Jeongguk pushed open the doors, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his blazer as he went. His waistcoat still coiled uncomfortably around his midriff - and he undid those buttons too, as he strode down the stairs, the crowd of staffers milling about on the front lawn.

It was another mass of people - staffers waiting for their governors and bosses to emerge from the event, while loading up on copious amounts of free booze at the open bar. It wasn’t quite Jeongguk’s scene either - but the cool autumn air made it seem just a little better. Jeongguk weighed his options: it was going to be unpleasant, being around so many bloody people at one time; but security was too tight around the venue for him to slip away unnoticed. And at that point, Jeongguk desperately wanted a drink.

Jeongguk sighed. Into the fray we go, then, he thought. How bad could it get?

“Oh, good lord,” Jimin said, his eyes glued onto the floating screen hovering in the middle of the tent, resting his hands on the bar table. “Just look at that, Taetae.”

“What?” Taehyung said, looping his arm into his best friend’s. “You’ve been, like, staring entranced at that screen for a full minute. What great discovery has attracted the attention of my beloved Chimchams?”

“The bloody Education Minister, that’s what,” Jimin moaned, fanning himself. “Minister Min-motherfucking-Yoongi. He’s like, Grade A, 10/10 would bang material.”

Taehyung looked carefully at the screen, where a short, skinny black-haired man was standing at the podium, giving a toast to President Yang. “What the fuck, Chimchim. He’s like, a smurf.”

“A hot smurf,” Jimin said. “Oh god, I think I’m in love.”

“Wow, your standards sure have slipped since college,” Taehyung said skeptically, giving Jimin major side-eye.

“Says the person who hasn’t gotten laid since college,” Jimin retorted. “Don’t you think they’ve changed sex since you last got any?”

“Suck my dick, you tiny -”

“Ah, fuck - excuse me.”

Taehyung jolted a little from being nudged aside by what seemed, at first, to be a solid wall of muscle. He turned around, about to give what he presumed to be an intruding staffer who had so rudely pushed him aside at the bar a piece of his mind, when his jaw dropped.

Before him stood what he could only describe as a Korean Adonis - a tall, raven-haired youth with the most beautiful, doe eyes that he had ever seen; dressed in what could only have been a very expensive suit. However, said man was currently panting a little as he leaned onto the bar - his smooth, white skin turning ashen as he loosened his tie a little more.

“Ah, um,” Taehyung said, his mouth opening and closing in a slightly unglamorous manner.

The man eyed him with disinterest, before looking away, seemingly trying to attract the attention of the bartender.

“You’re not going to get a drink anytime soon,” Taehyung said, waving his hand in front of the young man. “I waited like, an hour for mine.”

“God fucking damn it,” the boy said, his voice rough and raspy.

Hot damn, Taehyung thought, that’s one sexy voice.

“Uh, you can uh, have mine,” Taehyung said, “It’s a gin and tonic, and I swear it won’t kill you. It’s not poisoned!”

The other man eyed Taehyung’s drink for a second, before nodding gratefully as Taehyung slid it across the table, taking a sip from it after swirling the glass in his hand.

“Feeling a little better with my drink in you?” Taehyung asked, concerned. Behind him, Jimin snickered a little, murmuring flirt and bet you want something else in you under his breath.  Taehyung kept a smile on his face, as he swore to the high heavens that he would at some point kick Park Jimin’s bothersome arse all the way to Egypt.

“Not quite,” the youth answered, grimacing. “Wow, shit, what’s in this thing? A whole bottle of gin?”

“Oops - it was a triple shot,” Taehyung smiled sheepishly, running his hand through his hair. “It’s been a tough week, you see.”

“I’ll say,” the young man said, taking another swig of it. “Well, it’s not half bad, though. I guess alcoholism, like everything else, is an acquired taste.”

“Hey, watch yourself. I’m not an alcoholic. I just work hard, and demand satisfying and equitable rewards.”

He watched as the other man raised a perfect eyebrow, tilting the glass slightly. “Sure.”

Taehyung chuckled. “So, what do you do? Who are you working for?”

The dark-haired man shrugged. “Uh… no one of any importance,” he said.

“Wow, you’re a secretive one. You should go work on the presidential campaign strategy team if you’ve got such a talent for being tight-lipped.”

The younger man choked a little on his drink, and Taehyung patted him on the back.

“Slow down, it’s a stiff drink,” he said, grinning brightly at the young man, who nodded at him rather awkwardly. Just then, Taehyung’s phone began to buzz.

“Ugh - god, it’s my boss - we’ve got to attend to something. Enjoy the drink, yeah?” Taehyung said, scrolling through the message on his phone. Beside him, Jimin groaned, annoyed at being interrupted in the middle of the Hot Education Minister’s speech. “Come, Chimchim - Chimchim - we’ve got to go, Kim-Fuck-Jin wants us to fact check the briefing docs before nine…”

As Taehyung left the bar quickly, and pulled Jimin through the crowd, he thought he felt the other man’s dark brown eyes following him. But he turned around to look, again - and he was gone.

“Complete silence, Jin. Fuck me. I’ve gotten booed in rooms, but never have I gotten complete silence.”

Namjoon sagged, defeated, into his armchair, tossing his blazer onto the study table. Jin sighed, and sat down in front of him, his big eyes soft and consoling.

“It was a tough crowd, Joonie. Bunch of elderly conservatives. Did you really think your messaging was going to get a standing ovation?”

Namjoon groaned. “No, but not silence. Fuck, I could hear a pin drop in there. They do not like liberals, huh.”

“Guess not,” Jin chuckled, getting up and heading over to the open bar. Someone (he suspected it was Jimin) had created a makeshift bar of sorts in the meeting room - and as disapproving as Jin had been about drinking in the campaign office, the preceding weeks had swayed him a little.

Namjoon’s campaign had begun to diversify - for better, or for worse, it had yet to be seen. Jin had managed to, somehow, schmooze his way to scheduling multiple events in conservative districts (that were currently Yang strongholds). However, Namjoon’s speeches at the conferences and clubhouses in Seoul’s richest areas had not been received with much enthusiasm, if any.

“Never mind,” Namjoon said, shaking his head. “We tried. What a fucking waste of time. What’s on my plate for the rest of the night? Anything that would make me want to pop a cyanide pill?”

Jin snorted. “Don’t be dramatic. Yoongi’s coming round, though.”

Namjoon frowned. “All the way out here? The guy’s the laziest fucking Education Minister the world has ever seen - he wants to sit when he’s standing up, and wants to lie down when he’s sitting. He must really want to talk.”

Jin shrugged. “I did speak to him a little over the phone - but I can’t be sure about what he wants to discuss. We’ll see.”

At that moment, the sound of a coffee mug smashing, followed by several choice curses, echoed through the tiny office behind Namjoon’s door.

“Motherfucking cunt-faced son of a bitch… like my day wasn’t fucking bad enough-”

Jin raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like our man.”

Namjoon tsked, and moved to open the door - only to find one furious Min Yoongi, who’s shirt was dripping wet with hot coffee. Next to him, Jimin cowered, trembling a little, the pieces of a white ceramic mug lying on the floor. Meanwhile, Taehyung held on to Jimin’s arm, staring daggers at Yoongi as the minister continued to swear under his breath.

“Oh dear,” Jin said. “What happened here?”

“Motherfucking fuck, that’s what,” Yoongi snarled, pushing past Jimin and storming off to the office’s showering pods.

Jin sighed, and turned to Jimin. “Are you quite alright? What’s wrong with you now?”

Jimin flinched, looking down at the ground. “I w-was… I saw him and just wanted to give him a cup of coffee… and then he turned around too fast… and I sort of… dropped the cup?”

Jin pinched his nose bridge in exasperation, and exhaled. “You do realise you just poured a whole cup of coffee down the Education Minister’s front?”

Jimin shuddered. “Y-yes…”

Jin waved him away. “God, make yourself scarce. He’s going to be in here a while.”

With that, Jimin disappeared. About ten minutes later, Yoongi emerged from the washroom - his hair a little windswept from the automatic dryers; but coffee-free, nonetheless.

“Jesus, your staffer, Joon,” he complained, sliding into the chair opposite Namjoon. “He’s a fucking menace, absolute imbecile. Where did you find that kid?”

“Applied to be a staffer here. Fantastic CV. He’s a Harvard grad, y’know. Top of his class, liberal arts.”

Yoongi’s mouth fell open. “Fucking hell. He’s cute, I’ll give him that, but what a clumsy fucking cunt.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at Yoongi’s compliment, but decided to let it pass. “How did someone who swears so much ever become a minister?”

Yoongi smirked. “Yang Hyun-suck thought I was a smart cookie. Turns out he wasn’t wrong. God, Joonie - you should see them. They creep the fuck out of me - especially that chief of staff of his.”

“Kwon Jiyong?”

“Yeah. Creepy asshole. He’s like one of those dangerously perfect human beings - sharp as a whip; scheming as the next motherfucker, and too goddamn charismatic for his own good. If he wasn’t Yang’s lackey I swear he would be the next fucking Hitler.”

Namjoon shivered. “Sounds like a charming man.”

“Yeah, you’re not the one who has to sit in cabinet meetings with him. Anyway, Jin… about the question you asked me, last week.”

Jin leaned forward, his eyes lighting up in curiosity. “Do you have an answer?”

“What question?” Namjoon asked, quizzically.

Yoongi smiled. “So, Seokjin here tells me that he has apparently taken an interest in this rather fascinating character.”

“The Wolf Boy?” Namjoon inquired. 

“That’s the one. Well, we all know he went to M.I.T., and we know the shell company he uses - Sirius Inc.; where it’s located, shit like that. But few people know his name - purely because he makes all his staff sign non-disclosure agreements to reveal absolutely nothing about him. And also because I’m pretty sure he bribed M.I.T. to wipe his name from the school records.”

“Whoa,” Seokjin said. “That’s some dedication to secrecy right there.”

“Yeah, and that’s not it. No one knows where he lives - and the office is like a fucking fortress. I sent someone to poke around there - nothing. Private elevators to every floor - and the Wolf Boy’s elevator has an iris scanner, tinted windows - and, get this - it changes directions inside the building. No one knows which window the Boy’s office is. Fucking scary sci-fi shit.”

“So how are we ever going to meet him?”

“Now here’s where it gets interesting. Seokjin here has met him,” Namjoon interjected. “But he won’t tell me how.”

Seokjin hummed. “Well, alright - to be completely accurate, I “met” him. Sort of. Back when you were running for governor in ‘91, I was at the Blue House, filing some paperwork - and this group of guards were escorting a person past me. I’m pretty sure they were leaving the meeting with the president. They called him “Master Jeon” - and what’s interesting was, they bundled him into the Bentley that the Boy supposedly always rides in.”

“Well, that corroborates very nicely with what I’m about to tell you,” Yoongi said, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a photograph.

“I did some digging - the normal stuff, mapping out relations, the who’s who. As a minister, you pretty much do this every day. And here’s the cool stuff. This is Kwon Jiyong - right here, twelve years ago.”

Namjoon reached out, and took the picture from Yoongi’s hands. It was an old-school photo - digitally taken, but printed off. The man in the photo looked almost nothing like the Kwon Jiyong everyone now knew - he was casual in a button down shirt, with messy hair and what looked like a beanie on his head.

“And next to him,” Yoongi said, a thin finger pointing. “This fucking kid - if I’m not horribly mistaken, I think he’s your man.”

Namjoon gaped a little at the boy in the photograph. He looked like nothing more than a mere child - a bespectacled boy with a thin face, wearing an M.I.T. graduation robe. His nose was a little large, and he had a bit of an overbite - but his dark eyes were a pretty almond shape, framed by a fringe that flopped over his forehead.

On the bottom, in messy handwriting: The summer of graduation. To Jiyongie-hyung. Love, Jeon Jeongguk.

“Where’d you get this?” Namjoon asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“As it turns out, a certain Kwon Jiyong has become significantly less sentimental over the years,” Yoongi chuckled. “He was throwing out stuff he didn’t want from his office - a spring cleaning of sorts, I think; and as it turns out, their secretaries don’t shred photos.”

Jin took the photo, and stared hard at it. “Yes, that’s him, alright - it’s the guy I saw getting into the Bentley. God, Yoongi, you’re brilliant.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Of course.”

Namjoon shook his head, skipping over Yoongi’s moment of self-aggrandisation, to the latter’s displeasure. “But that doesn’t bring us any closer to him.”

Yoongi’s lips quirked into a smile. “Aha - not if you’re me.”

“What do you have?” Seokjin asked, his voice filled with excitement.

Yoongi reached into his shirt, once again - and slid two invitation cards across the table.

“An invitation, for Messrs Kim Seokjin of the Independent Party and one member of his staff,” Yoongi said, leaning forward, his voice laced with triumph. “To one of Seoul’s biggest bull-shitting conventions of all time. And from what I gather from tapping Kwon Jiyong’s private phone line, one lovely Jeon Jeongguk is going to be there.”

 Of all the places in Seoul, the Cheonggyecheon stream was, without doubt, Taehyung’s favourite place. When he had first moved to Seoul with Jimin, they had spent many late nights walking past the stream after a long day’s work. In the warm light of the sunset, the duo trotted along the pavements, and dipped their toes into the stream’s cool water, enjoying the calm and quiet of the area. To Taehyung, the stream was like an oasis in the middle of the city - and he sometimes wished that Jimin and himself had more time to take in the sights.

They both had had a horrible day at work - Jimin had been cussed out by the Hot Education Minister (on whom he had an massive crush). Seokjin had sent Jimin home, and Taehyung, naturally, had accompanied him on the bus, made him an intensely sweet cup of cocoa, and tucked him into bed. Jimin had fallen asleep quickly - the crease between his brows disappearing swiftly. But the sun had just begun to set - so Taehyung had put on his jogging shoes, slipped out of the house, and gone for a run.

He took the path he normally did - jogging down Nangye-ro and turning right. From there, he could see the stream just beneath the road - the placid waters calm and illuminated in the pink glow of the sunset.

Jogging calmed Taehyung, and relaxed his mind. The campaign thus far had been exhausting. In a few hours, they would wake, again, and head back to the offices to continue drafting statements and editing plans. Jimin had lost weight - his chubby cheeks disappearing fast and making way for sharp, hollow cheekbones; and Taehyung knew the fatigue of being part of an overworked campaign team was wearing him out as well.

Eight more months, Taehyung thought. And this will all be over.

As Taehyung ran, he spotted a figure running not far ahead of him. From that distance, he couldn’t quite see who it was - but his silhouette looked terribly familiar.

Well, I’ll be, Taehyung thought. A wild hot-staffer-from-the-blue-house appeared!

Clad in a black tracksuit, the man ran, his footfalls brisk and even - barely breaking a sweat. Taehyung sped up - putting a little more energy into his strides, and quickly caught up with the man.

“Hello!” he chirped, breathlessly, drawing level with the man. “N-nice to see you again!”

Surprised, the man turned to him, his pace slowing down considerably, before halting. “Oh - goodness. I didn’t recognise you for a second. Hello.”

Taehyung beamed, patting the man on the shoulder. “I didn’t expect to see you here - small world, huh.”

The dark-haired man gave Taehyung a hint of a smile, before signalling that they should walk on, together. “Yeah, small world. You live around here?”

“Yeah, up the road. You?”

“Nah, I just come here to clear my mind.”

“Cool beans. Anyway - heck, I don’t even know your name yet! Kim - Kim Taehyung! Or you can call me Taetae. Wait - am I older than you? How old are you?” Taehyung babbled.

The man stared at him, a look of slight amusement crossing his face. “I’m twenty-six.”

“Ah, then it’s Taetae hyung. I’m twenty-eight this year!” Taehyung stuck out his hand, waiting for the other man to take it.

The young man hesitated for a moment, before shaking his hand firmly. “Jeon - Jeon Jeongguk. Nice to meet you, Taehyung-ssi.”

“Aw man, that’s a nice name! Jeon Jeonggukie~” Taehyung chattered.

Jeongguk stiffened a little - taken aback by how informally he had addressed him in return. He was used to politeness on an almost painful level, and not the offhand, bordering on rude conversation that he was currently having with this young staffer.

“Which district?” Jeongguk asked, the curiosity getting the better of him.

“I work for the governor of Ilsan - Kim Namjoon! Campaign staffer.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrowed. “Independent candidate?”

“Yep!” Taehyung replied, popping the ‘p’ as he swung his arms around, stretching them. “It’s a hell of a trip, working for the campaign - we’re kind of understaffed so there’s a lot to do. I’m lucky I’m out here now.”

“Hmm, I’ll bet,” Jeongguk said.

“And what do you do?” Taehyung asked, turning to smile at Jeongguk.

“Ah… I work on campaigns, too. On and off,” Jeongguk found himself saying. He kicked himself a little, at that. He had no idea why he was telling this staffer, of all people, what he did - seeing as he hadn’t revealed what he did for a living to anyone, including his own mother.

“Whoa - cool stuff! Governor level?”

Jeongguk shook his head, suppressing a laugh. If only he knew. “A little higher than that.”

“Damn… interesting stuff. Well, I love this job! Since I got back from Harvard, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. But now I love working for my candidate - even though he doesn’t stand a chance in hell at winning.”

Jeongguk stared at Taehyung, puzzled. “But with Ivy League credentials, you could get hired anywhere. Why would you play for the losing side?”

Taehyung tsked. “Why so pessimistic, young whippersnapper? Maybe you haven’t been in the game long enough, but it isn’t all about winning! It’s about getting the message out, and giving people something to believe in, y’know?”

Jeongguk could barely suppress his incredulity, and chose to remain silent instead. This guy was unbelievably stupid, he thought. Jeongguk had never known what it was like to be on the losing side, or to engage in a battle he thought he would lose. Every move for the last ten years of his life had been calculated - based on sunk costs and probabilities - and Jeongguk had never, ever, lost.

But here this man was - unabashedly talking about how he was, essentially, willing to trade one year of his life campaigning for a candidate; based solely on blind optimism. Jeongguk couldn’t quite conceive of a planet on which that behaviour would be acceptable, in his books, at least.

“Yeah - okay, I know you’re probably not going to be interested, but here’s a link you can check out,” Taehyung said, reaching into the pocket of his track pants for his wallet. “There you go - it’s not hardcore campaign stuff, but it’s just a few speeches! Some of which I did a first draft for. Just take a look - no harm, yeah?”

Jeongguk nodded dumbly, taking the card in his hands. The black logo of the Independent Party, followed by an access code to a viewing site, was embossed on the card. When he flipped it over, he saw that it was Taehyung’s personal name card. “Kim Taehyung - Presidential Campaign Staffer, 2096,” it read.

“Good stuff, I will,” Jeongguk said.

“Nice! Well - I came out here to run, god knows we don’t get enough exercise. Race you - on three?” Taehyung said, bounding up and down enthusiastically.

Jeongguk didn’t get a chance to answer before Taehyung had set off in a flash, running at full throttle down the Cheonggyecheon. Jeongguk stood rooted to the spot, a little stunned. He watched Kim Taehyung and his white running jacket disappear around the bend, his limbs flailing in a slightly graceless manner as he raced at top speed. And then Jeongguk broke into a laugh, at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation: because Taehyung hadn’t even turned around to check if he was running, too.

Kim Taehyung, Jeongguk mused. How ridiculously intriguing.

With that, Jeongguk pocketed the card, before turning and jogging in the opposite direction.

“I’m home.”

The multiple locks on Jeongguk’s voice-activated apartment door of Jeongguk’s apartment unbolted themselves at the command, the doors sliding open quietly as he entered. Jeongguk stripped his dry-fit running shirt off his body, and deposited it into a laundry receptacle - which automatically analysed his clothes and commenced a quick wash-and-dry cycle.

Jeongguk snapped his fingers, and the night’s dinner - a gourmet meal prepared by his personal chef and sent up to his penthouse - emerged from a slot in his kitchen. Jeongguk eyed it for a moment and snorted. Another fillet mignon, how original, he thought, as he carried it over to the couch.

His residence was a state-of-the-art penthouse overlooking the Han river, outfitted with smart technologies that made his everyday life significantly easier. Jeongguk never worried about keeping food hot, changing the temperature controls, or pressing his clothes - his apartment did it for him.

Sighing in relief, Jeongguk settled down on one of his armchairs, which automatically began working on its massage functions - a scanner pinpointing where his back and neck hurt most. As Jeongguk ate, the armchair kneaded out the kinks in his spine, the smooth, rounded knobs in the armchair digging into his bare skin.

Jeongguk thought of his apartment as a sanctuary, a respite from the flashing message alerts and the endless graphs and matrices of his day-to-day routine. According to Jiyong, having everything done for you by robots took the weight off a man’s mind, and freed his thoughts for more important pursuits.

Jeongguk couldn’t argue with that - it made life so much easier - but the deafening silence in his house haunted him: when all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing; when the only reply to his wants and needs was the whirring of machines in his monochrome world.

“I’m good, I’m done,” Jeongguk murmured as he clapped his hands. A serving robot - a programmed butler, of sorts, rolled toward him, lifting the plate off his lap with his clawed hands. “Thank you, Carl,” he remarked to the robot, dismissing it. It beeped and bowed in reply, before disappearing around the corner into the pantry.

It struck Jeongguk as rather interesting - when he realised, at one point, that the only person he’d said ‘thank you’ to in the last year had been Carl - and he wasn’t even a person.

It was, by far, much easier to live this way, Jeongguk thought, to isolate himself in a fortress of solitude, to make this palace in the clouds his home. He dismissed the loneliness that crept up on him at times - an emotion he had long been taught was a weakness - and he looked forward. Forward, to the extra billions in his bank account. Forward, to the election, in eight months - to another five years of President Yang’s rule.

Just then, a loud beeping from the washer sounded, with a light flashing: Foreign Body In Pocket - Please Clear. Carl rolled out of the pantry swiftly, poking the buttons on the electric washer with his claws, before procuring a rumpled, white name card from a slot.

“Ah,” Jeongguk said. “I forgot I left that in there. Hand it to me, Carl.”

Carl rolled over - extending the (now slightly crumpled) name card toward Jeongguk with his claw.

Jeongguk turned the card over in his hands, running a finger over the name. Kim Taehyung. For a while, he eyed the website’s code - still visible on the card - and sighed.

What did he have to lose?

Jeongguk clapped his hands three times, and a slot in the screen opened up, a curved screen descending from it.

“Private server one. Accessing Site 20130613.”

“Yes, Sir,” came the cool voice of the system. 

Jeongguk watched as the site loaded - first, the Independent Party’s logo flashing across the screen, then a rather cringeworthy, posed photo of the candidate standing in Gwanghwamun Square. The site’s banner “Kim Namjoon for President ’96” flashed beneath the photo, followed by the candidate’s goals and manifesto.

“Damn,” Jeongguk breathed, scanning the website and flicking through their manifesto. “This shit is crazy.”

From a Conservative campaign strategist’s point of view, the campaign that Kim Namjoon was running was terrible. The messaging that he was using was not only overly philosophical and way left of liberal - but he was also decidedly the antithesis of whatever President Yang was.

Jeongguk found it - strangely, refreshing - but he also knew that a campaign like this one was far too intellectual; far too liberal-elite, for the average voter to grasp or follow.

“The first thing you have to remember, Jeongguk,” Jiyong had said, years ago, “Is that people are dumb fucks. Anything too complicated scares them. That’s why we stay in the middle - target the masses. Make the fear anyone too unlike them. That’s how we win.”

And he wasn’t wrong. Ten years, and two successful campaigns later, Jeongguk had learnt that fear was exactly what drove people.

“Hope, that’s what you’re selling?” Jeongguk mused, staring critically at Kim Namjoon’s face on the screen. “I don’t fucking buy it.”

Jeongguk scrolled down, nonetheless, and arrived at a video labelled: “Yonsei Speech - 18 October”.

Kim Namjoon appeared on the screen, walking up the stage to the podium as he waved to a crowd of cheering college students. Then something caught Jeongguk’s eye - a tall brunette in a navy suit, a boxy, square smile on his face. The staffer was extremely handsome, Jeongguk admitted, in a rather fragile, pretty-boy sort of way - and the way he grinned proudly behind his (doomed) candidate was strangely engaging.

Before Jeongguk knew it, he had sat through all of Kim Namjoon’s speeches on the campaign trail - all eight hours of it. And at four am, when Jeongguk’s heavy lidded eyes finally closed - he found himself dreaming of a boy with big, innocent eyes and soft brown hair; and deep brown eyes, that sparkled in the sun.

There were many names for this particular occasion. Officially, it was called the “Annual Presidential Press Engagement Conference”. However, unofficially, politicians and members of the media had called it “The Big Spin”, or, as Yoongi so eloquently phrased it, “Presidential Election Bullcrap Fiesta 2096”.

At this event, hosted in the Shilla Hotel, the chief staffers of the key presidential candidates often came forward to present their candidate’s official platform to the media. Ministers and journalists would ask them questions related specifically to the most pertinent and current aspects of the government’s existing policy. There and then, they would field questions - and their answers would, often, be broadcast live on social media. It was a frightening event - but one that had massive potential for audience reach.

Jin had brought Jimin along - the younger man having begged incessantly to be given the ticket to the event. Jin had a strong suspicion that Jimin had an ulterior motive for wanting to attend the event that was somewhat related to Education Minister Min - but he knew better than to waste his time on asinine questions into his staff’s personal lives.

Traditionally, only the staffers of the strongest candidates turned up at the conference; partly because smaller party candidates were either frozen out, or saw no point in turning up at all. This year, however, Jin was determined to make sure things were different. The APPEC was the perfect opportunity to get Namjoon’s platform in front of a wider audience - and to show how refreshing it was in contrast to President Yang’s.

Across the room, he spotted Kim Suho, the press secretary for Lee Soo-Man already seated at the long table - in person, he was a tall, relatively soft-spoken man. And - just entering the room through the double doors - was Kwon Jiyong himself. Jin was surprised to note that the latter was a lot shorter than he looked on television; yet his inexplicable charisma drew the attention of the press like a magnet. When he entered the room, he did so with an inexplicable grace; sweeping past members of the local and international news outlets, with a slight bow to some senior journalists. Jin half-wished that he had some of Kwon Jiyong’s pizzazz, but he settled for being passably eloquent and, in his opinion, rather good looking.

Sure enough, Jimin had bounded off once he spotted Yoongi lurking at a corner of the conference room. Jin had nodded, rolling his eyes - and let him go. He had bigger, more pressing issues to worry about - for instance, the most important reason for him being here.

Jin scanned the room - searching for a mop of raven hair - and sure enough, there he was. Jeon Jeongguk, in the flesh. The young man was seated at the back of the room, his fingers flitting rapidly over his glass tablet, his eyes watching what seemed to be several graphs containing multiple matrices. Jin wanted, desperately, to speak to him then - but a bell was ringing,  and the emcee for the evening was instructing the spokespersons and staffers who wished to speak to take their seats at the front of the stage.

Jin slowly made his way up on stage, giving a low, respectful bow to the press, before settling into the seat beside Kwon Jiyong. He noticed the man’s eyes flickering with a hint of surprise, taking in the Independent Party pin on his lapel. Yet, shocked as he might have been that an Independent Party spokesperson had made it to the Spin, Kwon’s demeanour remained unchanged as he turned his microphone on, and began to address the journalists.

“Welcome, one and all - respected members of the media and colleagues from the cabinet. As you all might know - it being our tenth year at this glorious event - my name is Kwon Jiyong, and I represent President Yang.”

Jin’s heart was in his throat as the moderator prompted Suho to introduce his candidate and his platform to the media. Kim received questions about the economy and defence - the two key platforms on which his candidate had been campaigning hard on - which was expected.

And then it was Kwon Jiyong’s turn.

Jin marvelled at the skill with which Kwon deflected questions; sidestepping the tough issues that came his way. From the Yang administration’s massive screw-up with a blood contamination scandal; to the apparent failure to implement their initial budget, Kwon’s denials of the President’s culpability, and his diversions to what he termed “the pressing issues at hand” were almost artful. Jin, however, was beginning to feel a little sick just listening to his words.

“Of course, our party has the nation’s best interests at heart,” Kwon said, a gentle smile on his lips. “Our president has served us well for two terms - and there is no leader more electable, or convincing at his job, than President Yang. He has sweated, suffered and wept tears of blood for the good people of Korea, and will continue to do so for decades to come.”

Jin’s eyes landed on Jeon Jeongguk - who was, still, furiously typing; and seemingly oblivious to the bald-faced lies that Kwon was telling. Yet, just then, the small tablet Jin had brought with him vibrated, slightly - showing a new trend emerging on social media. Jin tried not to throw up, as it surfaced before his eyes.

#yanghyunsuk, #bloodsweatandtears, #presidentforthepeople. Jin could not believe his eyes. Tags directly relating to what Kwon had just said were beginning to trend - the same catchy phrases that had helped Yang win, and retain, the presidency twice. It was him, Jin was sure of it - and the power that one damned boy possessed made Jin feel both in awe, and just a little bit ill.

“And - um,” the emcee paused, looking at him expectantly. “We have about five minutes left today - would the gentleman at the end of the table care to speak?”

Seokjin coughed, nervously, before steadying himself, and adjusting the microphone.

“Hello - good evening. My name is Kim Seokjin, and I have come here tonight to introduce my candidate - Kim Namjoon - the current governor of Ilsan, and the sole candidate fielded by the Independent Party this year.”

“I’m not here to spin a story about what a great person Governor Kim is, or list out the many reasons why his policies are awesome. In any case, I wouldn’t have been able to get through even a fraction of that list in five minutes. You will have to find that out for yourselves - and I trust that Governor Kim will be more than forthcoming about his policy ideas - they are, after all, listed out in detail on his portal.”

Seokjin flashed the portal’s code, now displayed proudly on his tablet - and the cameras focused on him as he beamed into their lenses.

“What I can tell you, though - is that you won’t regret taking a bit of your time today to understand where Kim Namjoon is coming from. He doesn’t want to defend the defunct policies the have made this country fall apart at the seams - he wants to rebuild it, with concrete plans, and substance.”

At that moment, Jin cast his glance across the room - and his gaze connected with Jeongguk’s.

“And, most importantly - he doesn’t just think of the rich, the elite - with their lofty ideals and aspirations. He thinks of you: all of you, out there; who struggle to put your next meal on the table, who battle discrimination and illness; who dream, who hope for a better life. And with hope, together, we can succeed. Thank you for your attention.”

As Jin sunk back into his seat, he felt a cold anger radiating from Kwon Jiyong’s eyes, as the man examined him critically. And then, Jin spotted Jeon Jeongguk - his face white as a sheet: staring right at him.

The boy wasn’t typing anymore.  

The room had begun to empty out, with reporters hurrying back to their bureau offices to file stories. Kwon Jiyong and Kim Suho had left, quickly; not staying to answer further questions.

Jin, however, had been thronged by a crowd of reporters - all of whom desired to know just a more about Kim Namjoon’s policy ideas. Jin was surprised - he hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic response from the press after his statement; and he stood there, for close to an hour, smiling politely and answering all the media’s queries.

It was close to eight pm before Jin had finally managed to extricate himself from the media throng. Park Jimin was nowhere to be seen, and the room was close to empty - so Jin decided to make his own way back to the campaign offices.

Jin strode down the long corridor outside the Shilla ballroom, checking his phone for messages. One from Park Jimin - who had texted to say he was working on his apology, whatever that meant; and two from Namjoon, about the speech, and -

“Whoa!” someone reached out from behind a large, oak door, and dragged Jin into a side room. “Shit, what the fuck?”

Disorientated, Jin let his eyes adjust to the dim light, taking in his surroundings. As it turned out, he was currently situated in a dimly lit room - standing right opposite the only and only Jeon Jeongguk.

“Kim Seokjin, right?” Jeongguk intoned, his voice cool. “I get the feeling you want to speak to me.”

Jin adjusted his tie, coughing. “Well, yes, I do. But how would you know?”

Jeongguk smirked. “Tell your friends to be more careful. I don’t appreciate the education minister’s staff snooping around my office building, or your staffers stalking me at banquets and when I go for runs. It’s highly inappropriate, so please desist.”

“Well - I do apologise. Minister Min was indeed attempting to find out more about you, so that we could have this conversation. However, I would like to clarify that my staffers have never been told to make contact with you - so I would appreciate your understanding on that matter.”

Jeongguk’s expression softened a little. “Oh, I see. So, Seokjin-ssi. What has made you so keen on speaking to me?”

Jin frowned. “Should we… be talking about this here?”

Jeongguk smiled, and produced a small control from his pocket. “I have an interference system that’s temporarily disrupted the listening devices in this room, for the next three minutes. Which is exactly how long you have to tell me what you want from me.”

Jin sighed, and took a deep breath. “Alright, I’ll cut to the chase. You’re the Wolf Boy, aren’t you?”

Jeongguk did not reply, staring stonily at Jin.

“No matter - I know you are. And we also do know how influential you are, how you’ve been aiding the Yang campaign. We don’t know the extent of it - but I saw what you just did, at the event. You made keywords trend, made people start talking about the President exactly the way you wanted them to.”

Jeongguk fidgeted a little, as Seokjin continued. How much did this guy know? - he wondered. He had always been so careful, all those years.

“So I would like to invite you to come on board, with our campaign.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jeongguk said, flatly.

“Is that such a crazy idea?” Jin said.

“No shit it is,” Jeongguk said, running his hand through his hair. “Your candidate’s a joke.  He’s the Marxist side of liberal. He got hit on the head with a peach. Do you really think that I would switch sides, from supporting the President of Korea, to becoming campaign manager for you? Kim Namjoon doesn’t stand a chance - you know that. “And you want me to play for the losing side?”

“I know you were listening, Jeon,” Seokjin said, his eyes desperate, “When I spoke about the campaign. About how we have ways, to make a positive change for this country, to help the poor and the destitute. Ten years ago, Yang Hyun Suk was a nobody - but you and Kwon Jiyong made him President. Yes - the odds are against us now, Jeon - but with you, it would be different.”

Jeongguk let out a harsh chuckle. “Seokjin-ssi, do you know how much I make?”

Seokjin tilted his head, his eyes questioning.

“Ten billion won.”

Seokjin’s mouth fell open in surprise.

“No, no - not in a year. Or a month. A week. That’s how much I get - for my services, for my ideas, for staying quiet. Do you happen to have a spare ten billion won lying around?”

Seokjin shook his head, resigned.

“Then I suggest you either find a way to match my price - or leave me the fuck alone. Good day, sir.”

Jeongguk turned away sharply, making to push the heavy doors open and make a quick exit before Jiyong’s staff caught him speaking to Jin.

“I thought I could convince you,” Jin said, his voice sad. “To be on the right side of history. I guess I thought wrong - you’re just a fucking soulless mercenary after all.”

Jeongguk turned to glare at Jin, his eyes blazing with fury. 

“Good luck, Seokjin-ssi. May your candidate’s campaign be glorious and fruitful.”

Jeongguk slammed the doors behind him, storming down the hallway.

Kim Seokjin was a fucking bastard, Jeongguk thought.

And the worst part was, he was right.

“I don’t want to fucking hear any more excuses, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk stood rooted in the middle of Jiyong’s office, observing the floating screens as they displayed the day’s trending topics. The major news channels played on Jiyong’s monitor - except they were no longer broadcasting news that was favourable to President Yang. The BBC, of all channels, was doing a cover of - of all people - Kim fucking Namjoon.

In the month following the Spin, the press had become, for some strange, unnatural reason, virtually obsessed with Kim Namjoon. They had begun covering his events, going to his mixers, and, worst of all for Jeongguk - people had begun talking about Namjoon. It made Jeongguk’s head hurt - but there was nothing, really, to be done at that point.

Granted - his points in the polls were about a fraction of Yang’s, and he was, still a candidate only holding 5-percentage-points of the electoral vote. However, Jiyong was not happy, to say the least. Never before had a third party candidate begun to grow so popular - to the extent that he was siphoning voters off from both President Yang and Lee’s bases.

“I have two questions. First of all, why; and more importantly, how can we fucking kill this guy?”

Jeongguk bowed his head in shame. “I - don’t know,” he said, truthfully.

He knew the blow was coming before he felt it. Jeongguk reeled, clutching his now-bleeding cheek. Jeongguk saw Chaerin wince behind Jiyong as the latter breathed heavily - the edge of his work tablet stained with a few flecks of Jeongguk’s blood.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘you don’t know’?” Jiyong seethed.

Jeongguk looked down at his shoes. “I - I tried, to do what we normally have on hand; dig up some dirt about the candidate…”

“And?”

“Hyung, I found nothing - absolute squat. Nerd in high school, perfect grades, student council president - he’s fucking clean.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jiyong said.

“It’s the truth,” Jeongguk said, quietly.

Jiyong stood, and walked to one of the screens, scrutinising the latest poll numbers. “Fuck that, then. Let’s refocus our efforts on crushing Lee Soo Man - and the cuntfaced boy wonder can have his five percent. Chaerin?”

“Jeongguk, we’ll have to get significant members of the parliament and ministers to endorse the President. Those that are on our side already have declared for him, of course - but here’s a list of people who haven’t.”

Chaerin projected a list of names on the screen. Five of them were highlighted - significant ministers, including Education and Health.

“Anything ring a bell?”

Jeongguk shook his head. “Give me a day. I might have something on Education that came up a few days back. I could go see him in the morning.”

Chaerin nodded. “Meanwhile, Choi Seunghyun and Lee Seungri have yet to affirm that they will, indeed be sending donations our way. You might want to work on them, too.”

Jeongguk nodded, glancing momentarily at Jiyong.

“You may go,” the older man said, his eyes flashing with anger. “This time, try not to be such a worthless fucking retard.”

Jeongguk bowed, and turned to go, choking back the hot tears that he knew were beginning to well up in his eyes. I will not cry, he thought, swallowing. Not here, not ever.

“And, Jeongguk?”

He stopped, turning to meet Jiyong’s piercing gaze.

“Remember, I made you. And just as easily as I raised you up - I can tear you down. Now get out of my office.”

Jeongguk was nervous, and rightfully so.

The Education Minister was notorious for having an awful temper and being mildly prone to violence, and Jeongguk did not want to be on the receiving end of any of those punches. But yet, here he was, standing in an empty corridor outside the man’s office.

Jeongguk spotted the Minister emerging from his office, and took a deep breath. He had no idea why he was getting the jitters, seeing as he had done this so many times before - but he was terrified.

“Minister Min.”

“What the f-… Ah. Hmm. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“We haven’t.”

Yoongi eyed him suspiciously. “And how may I help you, Jeon Jeongguk?”

Jeongguk wasn’t surprised that Yoongi knew who he was - not after he had seen the minister’s chief staffer lurking around outside his building on the security footage. A little research and Jeongguk had found out that the minister and Kim Namjoon were very close friends indeed - which explained why he hadn’t declared his endorsement for President Yang.

And Jeongguk’s job, at present, was to make that endorsement happen.

“It has come to the attention of the Yang campaign that you’ve been rather reticent in your support. Care to elaborate why?”

“Well, in short… it’s none of your fucking business.”

Jeongguk sighed. He didn’t expect it to turn hostile that fast, but it appeared that other alternative pressure points had to be pushed.

“Perhaps this video might… sway you, just a little.”

With a flick of his fingers, Jeongguk pulled up a video on his tablet. It was dimly lit, but the quality was clear enough to identify that it was, indeed, Yoongi -

“Sticking your tongue down a staffer’s throat in a back room at the Shilla hotel. A male staffer, for that matter - hmm, he’s rather short, but I guess that’s your type. Nice, cute cheeks and plump, dick-sucking lips, eh? And I must say, Minister, great technique -”

Yoongi snarled, and in a flash, he had pinned Jeongguk to the wall, his hands around the younger man’s throat.

“What are you going to do to the kid, huh?” Yoongi growled. “Did a motherfucking dog eat your conscience, Wolf Boy? Leave Jimin the fuck alone, or I swear, I’ll gut you like a fucking fish, Jeon…”

“It’s funny you assumed that it was the kid I was going for,” Jeongguk gasped. “What do you think the whole of Korea will say when they find out the Education Minister is a closeted fag?”

To Jeongguk’s consternation, Yoongi laughed.

“Jeon, I’ve served in office for ten years. I’ve made more money than I need in my lifetime - and, fuck, you mustn’t have done your research: because I’m retiring this year, if that old, toad-faced motherfucker wins again.”

Jeongguk breathed heavily, massaging his neck and catching his breath. Meanwhile, Yoongi backed away, the  smile still playing on his lips. 

“So do what the fuck you want, you motherfucking bastard,” Yoongi said, readjusting his tie. “And I have a message for the President, too, and Chief of Staff Kwon - that you can bring back to them, with your tail between your legs: go fuck yourself.”

Taehyung eyed his empty highball glass, sadly, and raised his hand to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Hey, Seungyoon, another round, please?” Taehyung said, sliding his glass toward the bartender.

The man frowned and took Taehyung’s glass. “Taehyung, this is your fifth glass. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighed. “It’s just been a rough day, y’know?”

Seungyoon nodded. “Yeah, I get that. So - the usual?”

“Yep,” Taehyung smiled.

He looked around the bar, scanning the room. It was one of his favourite places to relax and unwind. The bartender was friendly, and always remembered his order (a Long Island Iced Tea, with an extra dash of pineapple juice). Besides, it was close to the Independent Party offices, and near enough to the government district for cute staffers to occasionally walk in.

Taehyung would have come out with Jimin, but his best friend had been oddly preoccupied for the last month. This was one of those nights, as well - Jimin had texted him “might come home, might not” - which was code for I’m getting laid, don’t call me. Taehyung had asked him who the mystery man was multiple times, but Jimin had turned a rather impressive shade of purple and sidestepped his questions.

Secrecy, Taehyung could deal with - but leaving him to drink alone at the bar on Friday night was much less acceptable. The whole scene had begun to feel a little sad by his third drink. Taehyung was considering just going home after the next glass was empty - when the door opened with a jingle - and none other than Jeon Jeongguk came sweeping in.

Taehyung didn’t quite recognise him at first, but he grinned, and waved wildly when Jeongguk walked around the bar.

“Jeonggukie! Hey!”

“Oh,” Jeongguk said, looking slightly taken aback at Taehyung’s enthusiasm. “It’s you, again.”

“Awh, why so serious!” Taehyung said, gesturing to the barstool beside him. “Sit down, warm up. I’ll get you a drink. Seungyoon - another… uh… what do you drink?”

“An old fashioned, please,” Jeongguk said.

It was then that Taehyung noticed the bruise that coloured Jeongguk’s left cheek, that he had tried so had to cover up with make-up.

“Oh, god!” Taehyung said, leaning forward and cradling Jeongguk’s jaw in his hand. “What happened to you?”

Jeongguk shrunk away from the contact, a little shocked by the sudden close proximity of Taehyung’s lips to his cheek.

“I, uh, fell,” Jeongguk said, nodding gratefully at Seungyoon as his drink came sliding toward him. “Fell, yes. Pretty hard.”

“Gosh, Gukkie, you need to be careful,” Taehyung said, patting him on the shoulder. “Alright - cheers! To… uh….”

“Friday?” Jeongguk suggested weakly.

“Yes! Friday!” Taehyung chirped, knocking back about half of his drink at one go. Jeongguk looked on, slightly impressed.

“So, what brings you here? I’m a regular and I’ve never seen you. Are you tailing me?” Taehyung asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Jeongguk stared at Taehyung impassively. “I can assure you that I’m not.”

Taehyung grunted. “Ugh, you’re no fun. I was having the worst day ever, and now you’re being more boring than a sack of rocks.”

Jeongguk frowned. “Excuse you. I can do fun.”

“Oh, yeah?” Taehyung challenged. “Show me, then. How fun you can get.”

Jeongguk hadn’t quite intended for his night to become the booze-fest that it turned into. He had walked down the street after that unfortunate meeting with Yoongi, feeling rather sorry for himself, when he’d stumbled upon the bar. He wasn’t expecting to be having a good time at all - but there he was, teaching Kim Taehyung how to play a drinking game, and downing an insane number of jäger bombs.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves, drunk out of their minds, and crawling into one of Seungyoon’s curved booths, giggling over something that, assuredly, wasn’t all that funny at all.

“Jeongguk - hic - ie. What a cute name for a cute ass boy,” Taehyung slurred, pinching Jeongguk’s cheeks.

Jeongguk whined, and batted Taehyung’s hands away. “You’re a fucking pervert, get your hands off me, Kim Taetae.”

“Aww! You’re using informal language with me! I never thought we’d get past that, you awkward bunny!” Taehyung grinned, his lips pulled into a square smile. “My cute little dongsaengie! Jeon Jeonggukie!”

Jeongguk covered his face with his hands. “God… you’re fucking noisy…”

“Ugh, give me a break,” Taehyung moaned, leaning his head on Jeongguk’s broad shoulders. He felt the younger man flinch a little, but chose to ignore it. “I’ve had a terrible day - a terrible day, I tell you!”

“What happened?” Jeongguk asked, taking another swig of his beer.

“I was at this rally,” Taehyung groaned. “And I just… god, I shouldn’t bore you with campaign shit, it’s work bullshit.”

“No, I asked - I wanna hear it,” Jeongguk said, realising, in his drunken haze, that he was actually concerned about Kim Taehyung.

“Okay then, you asked. So I’m with Namjoon, at this rally - and we’re in this little suburb, you know - a poor ass district. Lower income. Should’ve been a cakewalk, nothing big. But there was this little kid, in the front - couldn’t have been more than six. And he came up to me, and said: ‘Hyung, hyung, why are you here? Don’t we already know President Yang is going to win?’”

Jeongguk felt a little sick.

“So I looked at him, and I wanted to tell him no, that listening mattered, that campaigning, and just having your voice heard, mattered - but I couldn’t. And, god damn it, I feel like a piece of shit.”

Jeongguk kept silent, contenting himself with rubbing circles on Taehyung’s back as he spoke. He didn’t quite know what to say - how could he, when he was working for the people Taehyung seemed to despise?

“Y’know, I’m from Daegu?”

“Huh?” Jeongguk said, surprised. “You don’t have an accent.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung said, downing the last of his Long Island. “Lost it after going to the U.S. and coming back to Seoul. I was told it didn’t do me any good to have a satoori slang, that it sounded unprofessional. ”

“Huh,” Jeongguk made a noise of agreement. “I know that feel. I’m from Busan, you know.”

“Whoa, fucking hell. Shit, thought you were a posh Seoulite like all of these fuckers in the Capital.”

Jeongguk chuckled. “You lose an accent real fast working in politics.” Just like you lose many other things. Morals, for instance.

“Damn. Well, I don’t know,” Taehyung said, grinning, and letting his provincial accent slip back into his voice as he spoke. “I feel not speaking like I did at home makes me a little less me, I guess. Y’know why I felt so shit about that kid?’

Jeongguk shrugged.

“Because, fuck it, I was dirt poor back in Daegu. My parents had to work, so I got popped off to my Grandma’s farm. We barely had two fucking won notes to rub together when the harvests were bad. And, y’know, winters in Daegu kind of sucked balls. No heating, no fucking running water sometimes. But my grandma - she gave everything, just to make my life a little bit better.”

Jeongguk watched Taehyung’s eyes well up with tears as he spoke.

“There was this winter - it got so bad, that we didn’t have anything to eat, so she sold all our farm animals. Even my favourite fucking cow, Jeonggukie - my damn cow. All I had left was my dog, Soonshimmie - god bless her soul. But there was this night, I remember. I was six, and when I was shivering in my blankets, crying - and Grandma said, look up, Taetae, look up at the stars, have hope. And we got through it - we did.”

“This fucking election - I came back to Seoul, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. And then I saw Kim Namjoon - and it reminded me of those days, back in Daegu, you feel me? He made me want to inspire people, to make them feel like their vote mattered. He told me, y’know - that we all can hope - and that, alone, is enough.”

“And that’s why it kills me,” Taehyung said, the tears rolling down his cheeks, and dripping onto the smooth surface of the table. “It kills me to not be able to say the same, to a little child, that they could have hope. That we could make a change, for their lives to get just a little better. And that’s why it hurts, so much. That’s why it fucking hurts.”

Jeongguk watched as Taehyung’s eyes glazed over, his lids drooping even as he talked. And before he knew it, the older man was out like a light, passed out on the bar table - the tears still gathering at the corner of his eyes.

Jeongguk looped his arm under Taehyung’s arm, and slung him onto his back, before bundling Taehyung into the back of his Bentley. He checked Taehyung’s coat for any identification bearing an address - but, just as he guessed, there wasn’t any.

Sighing in frustration, and rather tipsy himself - Jeongguk summoned the keypad in his Bentley. “The Ritz,” he said. He didn’t feel comfortable bringing someone he hardly knew back to his apartment - so a hotel would have to do for the night.

Beside him, Taehyung made a small noise, and moved closer, throwing an arm over Jeongguk’s midriff. Jeongguk recoiled a little, but relaxed into Taehyung’s cuddles, even as the older man rested his head on his chest. Jeongguk knew he would regret it in the morning, but there was no one there to see him coiling his arm around Taehyung’s waist, pulling him closer, and leaning into his warmth as well.

As the buildings whizzed past, Jeongguk thought of a winter’s night, many years ago, when he had snuggled into Jiyong’s side at the back of a taxi. It had been the coldest night of the year, and they were twenty blocks south of home.

Back then, they lived in Jiyong’s one-room flat - he slept on the top bunk, Jiyong on the bottom. That night, they had stayed out late, celebrating - Jeongguk had just graduated from high school, and Jiyong had just secured a job at then-mayor Yang’s office.

Jeongguk had been so happy, that night. He had run away from home, having taken beating after beating from his stepfather; and Jiyong had picked him off the street, cleaned him up,  paid for his studies, and gave him a chance at life.

Things are going to change, Guk, Jiyong had said that night. Mayor Yang is an emblem of hope. And I - we - were going to be at the forefront of that change. We’re going to make a fucking difference.

Jeongguk looked out of the window, his eyes distant. It all seemed like a faraway memory, now. He had changed, and so had Jiyong. Gone was the man who would smile kindly at him, ruffle his hair, and tie his scarf tighter around his neck in the winter. Jeongguk suspected that he had died, long ago - killed by a powerful, devastatingly beautiful creature, whose blows stung harsh on his skin.

Somehow, along the way, Jeongguk had lost himself, too. He had devolved into nothing more than a lackey for the President; manipulating public opinion with bogus claims; threatening to out Ministers in hallways. In the tinted glass windows of his car, he saw the reflection of a tired, broken man: clad in finery, his face powdered to perfection, his clothes impeccable - but a shadow of who he once was.

Jeongguk looked down at the man who now slept quietly on his chest, curled up at his side, his breathing shallow on Jeongguk’s neck as he snored lightly. He remembered the way his eyes had lit up, when he spoke about life, about making a change, about hope.

And at that moment, Jeongguk knew.

Taehyung shifted in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His head was still pulsing rather painfully, and he could barely speak. Yet, he felt extremely warm and content, rolled up in what he gathered were the most comfortable sheets in the universe.

“What the fuck…” Taehyung rasped, cracking an eye open. “Jimin… what time…”

It was then that Taehyung gathered that he was a) not at home with Jimin, and b) in what seemed to be the presidential suite of a five-star hotel.

Yelping, Taehyung rolled over, and promptly fell off the large, four-poster bed that he was currently sleeping on. He was, thankfully, fully-clothed, but in a silk dressing robe - which was certainly not what he had been wearing at the bar.

The bar, Taehyung strained to remember. Oh god, the bar.

Taehyung felt extremely unsteady, and fell back onto the satin duvet. His recollections of the night were spotty at best, but he remembered laughing, crying, cuddling, and Jeongguk.

Oh dear god, Taehyung thought. He buried his face in a pillow, stifling a howl. Of all the nights, it had to be this night, when he had turned into an absolute emotional wreck of a human being in front of Jeon Jeongguk, the hottest staffer in the entirety of Korea.

Taehyung hated himself.

But a more pressing issue was coming to mind. Taehyung checked if his underwear was still on (yes, thank fuck), and if he still had his phone. To his relief, he found it on the bedside table, fully charged.

The logo on the alarm next to the bed told Taehyung that he was currently at the Ritz in Gangnam-gu, just a little ways out from the office. Taehyung scrolled down the list of alerts that had popped up over the night, and groaned. Twenty texts and eight missed calls from Jimin. Thankfully, only two texts from Seokjin.

Taehyung rolled out of bed, and padded around the suite, fastening the robe at his waist. He vaguely remembered Jeongguk carrying him into the room, bridal style (Taehyung blushed in embarrassment at the thought), and tossing him onto the bed - but the rest was, at the moment, still rather fuzzy. However, Jeongguk was nowhere to be found - but Taehyung could still catch a whiff of his cologne in the air - he hadn’t been gone for long.

“Jesus,” Taehyung mused. “How rich is this guy?”

His gaze then fell on a box of aspirin and a bottle of vitamin water, that had been placed  right next to the breakfast goodies. Next to it, there was a note, scrawled in untidy handwriting:

Good morning. Take one tablet, you’ll feel better. - J

Taehyung smiled, and reached for the aspirin. “How thoughtful,” he murmured, popping a pill and washing it down with the vitamin water.

Taehyung made his way slowly into the adjoining sitting room, where, to his surprise, a steaming pot of coffee and a full set of breakfast sat on the table. On the plush velvet cushions lay Taehyung’s suit - freshly pressed and laundered, and still warm to the touch; paired with a new black silk tie (Taehyung suspected that he had lost his at the bar). Taehyung lifted the box, and looked at it critically. Armani.

His interest was definitely piqued. Who the hell was this guy? He definitely wasn’t just a staffer - no regular staffer would have been able to afford a suite like this on their stipend. Taehyung had so many unanswered questions floating through his mind - and when Taehyung got curious about something, he never let it go.

Taehyung glanced at the ornate wall clock. It was only six a.m.,meaning he had about an hour to go before having to leave for the office. Clapping his hands, Taehyung slipped into one of the dining chairs, and tucked into breakfast. For now, work could wait - but that day, he swore - was the day that he was going to find Jeon Jeongguk.

“You asshole,” Jimin said, launching headlong into him with a barrage of questions the moment he stepped into the campaign office. “You could have at least texted and told me where you were, I was worrying all night.”

“Really?” Taehyung said, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry, not sorry. You haven’t been telling me where you’ve been going and -”

He reached up, and pressed down hard on the hickey that was peeping over Jimin’s collar. “- who you got this baby from.”

Jimin turned red, and pulled his collar tighter around his neck. “I’ll tell you soon, okay? It’s not the time. And, besides, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do yourself, Taehyung-ssi. You’re wearing the same suit you wore to work yesterday. What happened to you?”

It was Taehyung’s turn to blush. “Nothing, actually.”

“Nothing? Shit, I don’t buy that for a fucking second, you little slutbag.”

Taehyung punched Jimin in the arm. “I’m serious, nothing fucking happened, you porn movie reject. I just got really fucking drunk, and this guy took me to a hotel -”

“What?!”

“Where nothing happened. I’m telling the truth, swear to God, Chim. I just woke up with a massive fucking hangover and came in. God’s truth.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“No sex?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a friendly little hand job between acquaintances?”

“One - you’re disgusting, and two - no, what the fuck.”

Jimin laughed. “Loosen up, Taetae. You should get some - it takes the edge off campaign work. I’m not done with you, though. Who’s this guy?”

“I’m not telling you mine if you aren’t telling me yours.”

“What the fuck, I told you, I’m not ready.”

“Then I’m not ready too. Besides, there’s nothing to tell, I hardly know him. He’s, just… nice.”

“Nice as in, ‘I’d get down on my knees right now and give you a blowjob if I wouldn’t get arrested for public indecency’ nice? Or ‘you’re too ugly so I’ll close my eyes and let you be a friend’ nice.”

“God, fuck off, you’re the worst.”

Jimin shrugged, and continued down the hallway with Taehyung.

“But if you must know - damn, he’s hot.”

Jimin grinned, bouncing up and down. “I knew it. The gorgeous Kim Taetae does not spend the night with ugly people.”

Taehyung groaned. “I did not spend the night - oh, good God, Jimin -”

Taehyung gasped, pulling Jimin into a side room, when he spotted someone at the end of the corridor.

“What’s the matter with you? Why the fuck are you so jumpy?”

“It’s him.”

“Who, God? Hitler? Use your fucking words, Taetae.”

“Him. Last night’s guy. Jesus, what the fuck is he doing here? Did he track me down? I was going to track him down first… shit, what if he’s a fucking American Psycho-style sociopath? God…”

“I’m gonna get a good look,” Jimin said, attempting to wriggle out of Taehyung’s grasp.

“No.”

“Yes I am, I wanna see what this piece of grade A man-cake looks like -”

“Goddamn it - Park fucking Jimblejams - don’t do it hoe -”

“… Taehyung?”

Taehyung froze, his hand still grasping the collar of Jimin’s blazer as the latter paused, mid-struggle.

“J-jeongguk! Hey! Nice to see you! How did you know I worked here?” Taehyung said, his voice unnaturally high and perky.

Jeongguk looked at Taehyung, a look of slight confusion coming over his handsome features. “If I don’t recall correctly, I believe we’ve actually discussed where you worked, and what you did, multiple times over several meetings.”

Jimin choked a little, next to Taehyung, who let go of Jimin’s collar quickly.

“So this is your mystery man, Taetae?” Jimin said as he caught his breath, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Man, he’s good looking. Hey, Jeongguk, right? Have you guys done it yet or is Taetae lying to me?”

Taehyung spluttered, but Jeongguk smirked at Jimin, his bottom lip curling.

“Oh, Park Jimin-ssi, I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. How’s Minister Min  Yoongi doing - is he well?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open in shock. “What the - how - what?”

Taehyung stared at Jimin. “Minister Min? You - Park Jimin - you’ve been fucking a Minister?”

“Mmhmm, oh yes, I believe so, Taehyung,” Jeongguk said. “You should treat your friend better, Jimin-ssi, and not keep him in the dark about such pressing matters.”

Jimin continued to gasp in indignation, while Taehyung cornered him. “Park Jimin! You slippery little fucker! How could you -”

“Jeon Jeongguk?”

Jin’s voice cut through the air like a knife, his tone cold and questioning. Taehyung and Jimin looked up, and saw both Jin and Namjoon standing at the door of Namjoon’s office.

Jeongguk cleared his throat and straightened his posture, before bending into a polite bow. “Good morning, Seokjin-ssi.”

Taehyung was confused, in the extreme. How did Jin know Jeongguk? He had an endless stream of questions that warranted answers, immediately, but Jeongguk was turning away from him, and walking purposefully toward Jin.

“Can we talk in private?” Jeongguk said. “I have a proposition - for the both of you, and I would very much like to speak to Governor Kim, as well.”

“Uh - yeah, sure,” Namjoon said, pressing a button to open the door of his office wider, before stepping aside to let Jeongguk in. “Please, come in - have a seat -”

They disappeared into Namjoon’s office, and the door slid shut - leaving a flabbergasted Taehyung, and an equally surprised Jimin, in the hall.

“Jeongguk-ssi, I must say, you were the last person I expected to see here,” Jin said, as he ushered Jeongguk toward the chairs around the meeting table.

“Well, I’m going to be frank - I can’t quite believe I’m here, either. But I’ve come here with a purpose,” Jeongguk said, settling into one of the seats.

Namjoon looked at him carefully. “The last I heard from Jin, you hadn’t given us the impression of being one of our campaign’s biggest fans.”

Jeongguk nodded. “I deeply apologise for that, Seokjin-ssi. I said those words in the heat of the moment - and I hope we can put it past us and have a civil conversation, now.”

Seokjin waved dismissively. “It’s forgotten. And I must apologise, too - for being incredibly rude to you.”

Jeongguk tilted his head in a little bow, accepting Jin’s apology.

“Now - what brings you here, today. Jeongguk-ssi?”

“You wanted me to help you - so here I am,” Jeongguk said. “I’m here to ask you for the honour of joining your campaign, as your media strategist.”

Namjoon inhaled sharply. “You’re… serious.”

“Absolutely,” Jeongguk said, folding his hands on the table.

Jin folded his arms, and glanced at Namjoon, before looking back at Jeongguk, his eyes skeptical.

“You understand, though - that this seems rather odd, to say the least. How can we be sure that you can be trusted?”

“You don’t,” Jeongguk replied, simply. “And I surmised that you might have thought as much. I can see why you would be suspicious - me suddenly traipsing in here and demanding to be on your team. So I prepared a… little present, of sorts.”

Jeongguk produced his tablet from inside his coat, and pulled up a few charts, before handing it to Namjoon. 

Namjoon’s eyes widened, as he looked at the live updates on Jeongguk’s tablet. His name was trending on several social networking platforms, and was at the top of all election-related search terms.

“How?” Namjoon said.

Jeongguk shrugged. “Just a little manipulation. Of course, this doesn’t mean you win the election - we’ve got a lot of work on our hands. That is, if you want me to be on your team.”

Namjoon reclined in his seat, setting the tablet down on the table before him. “Jin told me that you asked for… an exorbitant figure for your services. I can tell you upfront, that it won’t happen. My staffers work for little to no pay, and the campaign runs almost entirely on donations. But you probably know that already - so what do you want?”

“Nothing,” Jeongguk said. “Except a second chance.”

Namjoon stared at him, puzzled. “Pardon?”

“Governor Kim, there are many things that you don’t know, and may never know, about me,” Jeongguk said. “But I can tell you this much - that I might need this job just as much as you need me.”

“I don’t get it,” Namjoon said. “You’re the top dog on the Yang campaign. Why do you need us?”

“I watched your speech, Governor Kim,” Jeongguk said, his voice soft and measured. “Yonsei - one of your first speeches on the campaign trail. You spoke about hope - and how you wanted to change Korea for the better. I didn’t buy it - and I’m not sure I still do - because I’ve lost sight of why I do the things I do.”

Jeongguk took a deep breath. “There are many reasons why I’m turning my back on the Yang campaign. And, of course, you might fear that someone who bites the hand that feeds him, will do the same to you.”

“But this is precisely why I’m here, Governor Kim. I think that you are a man that I can trust - in whom I can place what little hope I have. And this is why I am here - to ask you, humbly, to give me the second chance that I long for - to make something of myself.”

There was silence, and Jeongguk leaned back in his chair, smiling wryly.

“Also, you might have guessed that my little present to you has most likely cost me my position in President Yang’s inner circle - so I really do need a job, at the moment.”

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, and shifted his gaze to Jin - who still stared at Jeongguk critically. Jin looked at Jeongguk one more time - his eyes boring into the younger man’s - before turning to Namjoon, and nodding.

Beaming, he stood, and extended his hand toward Jeongguk. The younger man smiled, and leapt to his feet - shaking Namjoon’s hand firmly.

“I look forward to working closely with you, Jeon Jeongguk,” Namjoon said, his voice filled with excitement. “Welcome on board. This is going to be an interesting six months.”

“I’m not speaking to you, Chimcham.”

“You’re talking to me right now, Taetae.”

Taehyung peeked over the divider of his workspace, and scowled at Jimin.

“One month -”

“Oh god, get over it already, I was going to tell you…”

“An entire month! And you didn’t care to inform me you were sleeping with the Education Minister. I’m not sure I even know you anymore.”

Jimin whined and pouted, before sliding around the table and into Taehyung’s workspace.

“Urgh - get off, you midget,” Taehyung yelped, attempting to shove Jimin off as the latter curled his arms around him.

“No!” Jimin said, hooking his limbs securely around Taehyung like a koala. “I’m not letting go of you until you talk to me!”

Exasperated, Taehyung sighed. In all their years of friendship, they had gone through only two arguments; and had never managed to endure more than fifteen minutes without caving and eventually speaking to each other again.

“Fine, fine,” he grunted, pushing Jimin off. “You’re forgiven, peasant. Now sit your ass over there and leave me alone, I’ve got tons of shit to do here.”

Jimin grinned, and slid back over to his desk. They were silent for about half a minute, before Jimin piped up again.

“So are we going to talk about the massive boner you’ve got for Jeon Jeongguk?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taehyung said, his eyes resolutely fixated on his screen.

Jimin gave Taehyung a knowing look, waggling his eyebrows. “So, blowjob material, huh?”

Taehyung’s cheeks flushed red. “Shut up, for God’s sake, go sext your man and stop bothering me -”

“Who’s sexting who?” Hoseok said, sauntering into the campaign office, his hands laden with steaming cups of hot coffee. “I thought you guys would need some warming up in the winter, but it looks like things are hotter in the campaign office than expected.”

“Hobi hyung!” Taehyung said, jumping up and running to greet him. “I didn’t think you were coming in today! Weren’t you doing a site recce for the rally tomorrow?”

“Well, I was supposed to,” Hoseok said, frowning. “But I got a message from Jin about twenty minutes ago - told me to come in. Something important, he said. Know what that’s about?”

“No clue,” Taehyung shook his head. “But he’s meeting with my friend Jeongguk now, so you might have to wait.”

“Wait - who? Jeongguk? As in, Jeon Jeongguk?”

“Are we the only ones in this world who don’t know who this guy is?” Jimin said, looking at Hoseok questioningly.

“On the contrary, we’re probably one of the few people outside of the President’s inner circle who even know his real name. Jin told me to put some men on his tail, and fuck, was his tail hard to chase. My boys have been trailing this guy’s Bentley for weeks, and haven’t gotten shit, and now he’s here…”

“But why?” Taehyung asked, his eyes filled with bewilderment. “Is he a wanted felon?”

Hoseok laughed. “Far from it. Remember that shock election result ten years ago? How the media turned against the campaign frontrunner overnight? Well, supposedly, he’s the guy that made it happen. Crazy shit, eh?”

Taehyung felt a little faint. “H-he - Jeongguk - he’s the Wolf Boy?”

“Apparently so - and he’s here, damn -”

At that moment, the door to Namjoon’s office slid open. Out stepped Jin and Namjoon, beaming from ear to ear - with Jeongguk following closely behind.

“Ah - yeah. This is everyone,” Namjoon said. “Jung Hoseok - my head of security and logistics planner. And my staffers, Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk replied. “You weren’t kidding when you said you had a small team.”

Namjoon chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah… campaign budgets, and such…”

“Alright, good morning, guys,” Jin continued, addressing the room. “Thanks for making the detour, Hoseok. I have a very important introduction to make. Jeongguk here is a media strategist - the best in his field, if I dare say so, and he’ll be joining our campaign effective immediately.”

Taehyung continued to stare unabashedly at Jeongguk as the younger man stepped forward and bowed deeply.

“Hello, I’m Jeon Jeongguk. Nice to meet all of you, let’s work hard together,” he said, a gentle smile gracing his sharp features.

“Jeongguk here has kindly suggested that we move our campaign headquarters to his office premises, and I’ve agreed to it,” Namjoon added. “So we might have to spend much of today cleaning, packing and moving…”

“Uh,” Jeongguk interrupted. “Sorry to be presumptuous - but I just requested for ten cleaning robots and a team of armed moving personnel to pack up your campaign headquarters. So - you just have to gather your personal belongings, and we’re good to go. A car is already en-route to ferry you to my offices.” 

Namjoon stared, speechless at Jeongguk, while Jin laughed and clapped in delight.

“As expected of the one and only Jeon Jeongguk. Let’s get going, everyone. We’ve got a lot of work to do!”

Fifteen minutes later, the team filed out into the lobby of Namjoon’s tiny campaign office.  In Taehyung’s hands was a box filled with knickknacks that he had decorated his desk with, along with several soft toys and a coffee mug from his Harvard days. He stood quietly behind Jeongguk, eyeing the younger man’s broad, suit-clad shoulders.

Taehyung had spent the last year of his university life dissecting the Wolf Boy’s campaign work step by step, and writing an incisive critique on his ruthless strategies. Back then, he would have given an arm and a leg to sit in the same room as the man, and ask him questions about his methods and his thought process. Now, as he stood behind him, Taehyung felt himself tongue-tied in the extreme. He couldn’t reconcile the Wolf Boy - a shadowy political media strategist - with the dark-eyed boy who had, the night before, spent a full five minutes giggling over a bad joke, nearly spilling his beer all over Taehyung’s pants.

But make no mistake, Jeon Jeongguk was real. A living, breathing man, Taehyung thought. And one with excessively strong muscles, if he dared say so, judging from how he had presumably carried him into the suite the night before.

A white Mercedes S-Class slid quietly into the driveway, followed by a shiny black Bentley. While Jeongguk headed toward his Bentley, a monster of a car, with a golden license plate emblazoned with the letters ‘JK 1’, Taehyung walked down the steps after Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok. He made to slide into the white limousine behind them - but one Park Jimin, as it seemed, appeared to have a very different idea of how their commute was going to go.

“Taetae!” He piped up, slipping in front of Taehyung with a suspiciously cheerful look on his face. “I’ll ride with Jin hyung and the boss! I’ve got, uh, important business to discuss with them!”

Taehyung looked at Jimin, his eyes narrowing, acutely aware of the fact that Jeongguk, still very much within earshot, had paused at the open door of his Bentley.

“Why can’t I be in the same car while you discuss this important business?” Taehyung hissed.

“It’s important, and private, that’s why. Jeongguk, do you mind if Taehyung rides yo- I mean, rides with you?”

Jeongguk blinked. “Yeah, sure. My car’s certainly big enough for two people.”

Taehyung stared daggers at Jimin as his best friend quickly darted into the Mercedes and shut the car door behind him. Grimacing, Taehyung shifted his box of belongings in his hands, and made his way over to Jeongguk.

“Are you alright?” Jeongguk said - to which Taehyung nodded blankly. Jeongguk stepped aside as the door of the car slid open with a soft click.

“After you,” he gestured.

Taehyung tried not to gawk as he took in the interior of the Bentley. He slid over the plush black leather, and settled rather stiffly in his seat, as he observed his surroundings. The car seemed to stretch out endlessly - a built-in bar to the left, and multiple digital screens that were just within reach of the L-shaped seat, presumably for working on-the-go.

Jeongguk slipped into the seat beside him, and the doors slid shut as multiple locks slid into place.

“This thing is like a tank,” Taehyung murmured, running his fingers along the cool surface of the tinted glass.

“It kind of is a tank,” Jeongguk said distractedly, flicking through the control panel. “Bulletproof windows, chassis can withstand explosions. Can be converted into a mobile workspace if need be. Alright, we’re set - drive, to the office.”

“Sorry?”

“Uh no, not you. I was talking to the car.”

Taehyung’s tried not to marvel like a country bumpkin as the car revved to life, and took off at a blistering pace through the streets of Seoul.

“Relax,” came Jeongguk’s smooth, cool voice again.

“I’m relaxed!” Taehyung said, his voice a little too loud.

“Sure,” Jeongguk smirked. “You should loosen up a little. You were plenty loose and a lot more casual last night, though - spread out on my lap, drooling onto my chest…”

Taehyung choked a little. “I did no such thing!”

“Right,” Jeongguk drawled, grinning at Taehyung. “As if your drunk ass remembers anything, hyung.”

Taehyung pouted, and glared at Jeongguk. “I do too remember everything I did last night.”

“If you say so.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence, once again - Jeongguk staring fixedly out of the car windows at nothing in particular, while Taehyung fidgeted nervously with the ears of a stuffed bear.

“You know, I can practically hear you thinking,” Jeongguk said, looking over at Taehyung.

“I’m not!” Taehyung denied, continuing to twist the stuffed rabbit’s ears into a pretzel-shaped knot. Jeongguk frowned.

“You can ask me whatever you want, and I’ll try to answer you to the best of my ability - I know you’re just bursting with questions at this point.”

“No… I don’t have any questions, I don’t need to know anything…”

“Okay, fine, I’m just saying, that if you’re curious, and you want to know why -”

“But what the fuck, Jeongguk - you are the Wolf Boy? I researched this guy - I mean, you - for a whole year - how did you even -”

Jeongguk sighed, pinching his nose bridge as Taehyung practically exploded into an endless babble of queries.

“Alright, alright. What I can tell you at this point is probably what you already know about me. Yes, I worked for President Yang Hyun Suk for a decade, as his media campaign strategist. Yes, people in the industry recognise me only by my alias - which you clearly are extremely familiar with - disturbingly so, I might add. And yes, I don’t mean to brag, but I’m the reason why President Yang has managed to hold on to power for ten years.”

Taehyung stared at Jeongguk, his mouth slightly open.

“ But no - I didn’t mean to lie to you, Taehyung. It’s just that the nature of my work demands secrecy - and the price I pay to wield so much power, is having to keep certain things hush-hush. I don’t often let people into my life, so I hope you understand.”

Taehyung gaped. “But you told me you worked on campaigns. You let me in. Why me?”

It was Jeongguk’s turn to get a little tongue-tied.

“I… don’t know,” he said, frankly. “But I wanted to. That much I can tell you.”

Jeongguk looked at him carefully, his dark eyes meeting his.

“You’re different, Kim Taehyung,” he said quietly. “And it’s… interesting.”

Taehyung’s cheeks flushed red, and he looked away, staring hard at the stuffed bunny once again.

“Why are you here, Jeonggukie? Why the sudden change?”

Jeongguk paused, before looking back up at Taehyung, an indecipherable look in his eyes.

“I don’t know if you remember what you said last night, but… you got me thinking. A lot has happened to me lately - and I saw this as a golden opportunity. Not unlike when I got lucky, and made it to the top of the campaign team ten years ago.”

“So I guess what you said convinced me: that this is a chance, for me. To remind myself that I can be a good man, and do good things. A chance to prove to myself, that I, too, can have hope.”

At that, a warm, tender smile spread across Taehyung’s face. As Jeongguk studied his big, gentle brown eyes, and the soft curve of his lips, he tried to ignore the slight ache in his heart, an unwelcome twinge that he had never quite felt before.

Fuck, Jeongguk thought. He’s so fucking beautiful. And I… I am so, fucking screwed.

Never in Taehyung’s dreams had he imagined that he would be standing in the lobby of the Wolf Boy’s maximum-security office tower - but there he was.

He was aware that it was rather inappropriate to ooh and aah at the sheer scale of the operation that Jeongguk was running, but he couldn’t help but stare in astonishment as he was escorted through the tower.

Their cars had pulled into a concealed hatch at the side of the building, which had opened up like the mouth of a legendary beast, swallowing their cars whole. Taehyung and the team had then found themselves in the middle of a secure basement, in which a row of over twenty supercars were lined up. Bentleys, Maseratis, some Mercedes stretch limos - and even a Tesla or two.

“As of today, all the resources I can contribute will be used in this campaign. The cars - you will each have your own, to ferry you to meetings without getting caught in traffic. We have outriders, too - which can be paired with Hoseok hyung’s security forces,” Jeongguk had said, ushering them into a lobby. There, four statuesque women in impossibly high heels relieved Taehyung and the team of the boxes in their hands, before disappearing down another corridor that, miraculously, had opened up in one of the walls.

“I’d like you all to meet someone, first,” Jeongguk said, gesturing for the team to enter a rather roomy elevator, before punching a code into the console.

“Welcome, Mr Jeon - how may I help you and your guests today?” a robotic voice resounded in the lift.

“To the control room, please,” Jeongguk replied.

“Certainly.”

Taehyung felt the weight in his stomach plummet as the lift shot up off the ground. He had no idea why it was going that fast - or why it jerked from side to side, as though it was moving horizontally through passageways. He looked over at Jimin, and his best friend looked like he was about to throw up onto Jin’s shoes.

“Apologies,” Jeongguk said, as the elevator finally came to a halt. “That may be a bit disorienting for first-time visitors. It’s a security measure - the lifts move in a random fashion through some passageways before arriving at some parts of the building.”

“Well I’ll be,” Jimin said, taking a deep breath. “Warn a guy next time.”

Jeongguk’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “I will certainly endeavour to do so next time, Jimin-ssi. Now, this way, please.”

They filed down a long, pure white corridor, following Jeongguk as he moved toward a solid, black door. Even from where they were, though, Taehyung could hear the faint beats of hip-hop music, and what sounded like the braying of a donkey.

Apparently, Taehyung’s ears weren’t playing tricks on him, because Namjoon turned to Jeongguk, alarmed.

“Uh, is that -”

“A donkey?” Jeongguk replied. “Unfortunately, yes. My colleague had… peculiar demands. But here at Sirius we are nothing but accommodating, and I acceded to his request because of what he brought to the table.”

Jeongguk paused. “However, I’d rather you didn’t. They’re insanely hard to upkeep.”

The black door slid open, revealing a circular room, containing what looked like over a hundred glass screens arranged along multiple passageways, fanning out from the centre. Right in the middle of the circle sat a tall, young man, typing codes furiously into his console. And beside him, was said donkey - braying occasionally as it chomped on a bale of hay.

“Jackson,” Jeongguk said, striding toward the table. “Look sharp. We’ve got guests.”

“Oh!” Jackson said, observing the line of men that had gathered somewhat awkwardly in front of his desk, as he finished typing his line of code without looking at the keyboard. “Hello!”

Jeongguk smiled rather forcedly at him. “Okay, now, would you mind sharing a little about what it is you do here?”

Jackson looked at Jeongguk, his eyes wide. “Do you want the pretend version or the classified version?”

Jeongguk sighed. “You know, there is no pretend version, just tell -”

“Got it. Well, we run a space program here -”

“Jackson -”

“Geez, so you wanted the classified version? God, boss - be more specific next time -“

“I swear to God, I’ll -”

Taehyung smiled. Seeing Jeongguk get riled up over someone who seemed as annoying as Jimin made him seem a little less like a cyborg, and more like a real boy. It was slightly endearing.

“Okay, okay. So, uh. Hi! My name is Jackson. I’m the head of Communications Control.”

“And…” Jeongguk gestured for Jackson to continue.

“Basically I’m here because I developed this algorithm - well, that’s what the fancy people call it. I just call it a tool. Uh, let me show you. Governor Kim?”

Namjoon looked surprised that the young man knew his name.

“Don’t be flattered - I have to know everything about the election - I even know your poll numbers are shit to the point of being beyond rescue, so I don’t know if this will help -”

“Jackson.”

“Okay. Oops. So, uh - Governor Kim - if you would observe this group of people and their comments and connections. What do they have in common?”

Namjoon scanned the list quickly. “They’re all very liberal-leaning. Mostly from a certain area. Somewhat connected, even.”

“Very good, Mr Never-Gonna-Be-President-Liberal-Candidate! So, this is what a normal social network looks like, when people share and reinforce each other’s opinions. Their speech patterns become similar, they share the same opinions, yada yada. Now, watch what happens over time when we forcibly insert small amounts of Conservative news into their social media feed, over a stretch of two weeks.”

Taehyung watched in awe as the matrices of the group’s opinion marker shifted from the far left, to moderate left, as the news matrix increased in intensity.

“Oh god,” Jin gasped. “This is so brilliant.”

“Thank you, pretty man! From both me, and Michael over here,” Jackson gestured vaguely at the donkey.

“Michael… Jackson?” Namjoon said weakly.

“Yep!” Jackson said. “Wow, you got that. I like you, we should hang out -”

“Jackson, get to the fucking point,” Jeongguk drawled, pacing in the corner.

“Yeah so - this is how we counter that ideological echo chamber people put themselves into. By inserting agents, or alternative sources, into their daily conversations and routines. We pinpoint the circles in which ideology is the weakest - and we convert the middle to our side.”

“And that’s exactly how we’re going to do this,” Jeongguk interjected. “On my end, I specialise in formulating messages for mass consumption - in other words, taking what you say, and making it accessible to the masses.”

“I’ll modify your scripts, craft clever, catchy lines - and then we watch them catch on to your core target audience. Basically, playing with the trending tags, getting people interested. Then Jackson here - cracked as he is - gets the information beyond your immediate circle, out into the world.”

Namjoon inhaled sharply. “And this will help me reach out to more people?”

Behind him, Jackson laughed, and tossed a carrot to his donkey. Jeongguk smiled, and placed a reassuring hand on Namjoon’s shoulders.

“No, Namjoon-ssi. Outreach? Certainly, for sure. But this is going to help you win.”

It was six in the morning on Monday, and Taehyung hunched over his desk in the still-empty office, sorting through a barrage of messages that had clogged up his inbox during the night. Two months had passed since the team had moved into Jeongguk’s office building, and the campaign had swiftly gained momentum. Taehyung was ecstatic, of course - but this also meant that his days had grown longer, and his weekends had evaporated into thin air.

The work, though, did plenty to satisfy him. Taehyung had somehow found himself at the head of an entire department of Jeongguk’s staff, leading the charge on their on-the-ground outreach: planning events, scheduling appearances, and organising events with constituencies.

He wasn't alone - Namjoon’s initial team had each been supplied with staff as the work grew busier and busier. Jin remained at Namjoon’s side, going about his days with the same frightening efficiency that Taehyung had been accustomed to - and earlier that month, Jimin had been assigned to helm a large team of volunteers. This recent development demanded a fair bit of running around, which kept Jimin extremely busy, and relatively out of Taehyung’s hair.

As it turned out, while Taehyung had failed miserably at almost every other job he had held, he hadn’t been half bad at heading up the outreach team. Unlike his previous jobs, where he found himself getting coffee and filing documents most of the time, Taehyung felt like his skills were actually being put to use here. He approached every task with the same effervescence and good cheer - qualities that were refreshingly rare in campaign offices - and it helped that his work scope demanded that a certain media strategist be present at almost every event.

Not all of them had adjusted quickly to the new environment. Namjoon, for one, had found it excessively tiresome to have to schedule a video chat every time he had a brainwave and wanted to run an idea by his team. When he voiced that concern, Jeongguk had his personal office converted into an open-concept co-working space for the campaign’s top members - Taehyung included. 

Over time, Jeongguk’s office had gone from a minimalist’s wet dream to a warm, albeit slightly messy workroom. Taehyung had taken it upon himself to make sure that there was always hot food and coffee in the room (because it was common knowledge that Jin got cranky after three hours without eating), even going so far as to move a beanbag into the room.

“That’s… a beanbag,” Jeongguk had said, his eyebrows arching as he observed Taehyung  from the door. It was close to midnight, and the older man was sprawled on the red beanbag, a fresh cup of ramyun balanced precariously on his chest.

“Yep,” Taehyung replied, his voice a little muffled by the beanbag.

“And… it’s for… what purpose?

“It’s for sleeping on, duh!” Taehyung propped his head up, looking at Jeongguk rather quizzically. “No idea why you didn’t get one of these earlier.”

“You know you’re going to be the only one sleeping on that vermilion monstrosity,” Jeongguk grimaced. “God, the colour. It… messes with my aesthetic.”

“Jeonggukie, your aesthetic borders on mental asylum levels of depressing,” Taehyung said, finally lifting the lid of the ramyun cup and savouring the scent of the noodles. “The walls. The weird ass lights. Makes me wanna kill myself every time I come in.”

Jeongguk shook his head in exasperation.

“No, it’s elegant,” he said. “And I paid a lot of money for a light designer to - never mind. And, wait actually, come to think of it, my office’s interior design went to shit the moment you imposed on my courtesy and brought that hideous assortment of stuffed toys through that door. It’s all just downhill and straight to hell from here.”

Taehyung had stuck out his tongue at Jeongguk, and the other man had laughed - before proceeding to flick Taehyung’s favourite bear on the nose in a slightly malicious manner.

In the weeks that followed, Taehyung had shown Jeongguk a little mercy, and not brought up the occasions where he had come into the office late at night, and spotted the younger man curled up on the beanbag, out cold and completely dead to the world. Or the one time Taehyung had passed out on the same beanbag, only to wake up just in time to catch a glimpse of Jeongguk patting his row of fluffy animal toys on the head as he walked in, and wishing them all a very good morning.

They spent all their days together, and slipped into an oddly comfortable dynamic, their conversations often lapsing into playful, somewhat flirty banter. It didn’t help that the other members of the team were always out and about - Jin schmoozing whichever old geezer it was in an attempt to get the campaign more heavy-hitting political backers, Namjoon and Hoseok out on the ground, and Jimin managing his overly-energetic troop of young, university-level volunteers. Taehyung tried to ignore the way Jeongguk sometimes sneaked furtive glances at him when he thought he wasn’t looking, or the scent of Jeongguk’s Gucci cologne when he leaned over Taehyung’s shoulder to check the day’s schedule.

It got even harder for Taehyung when the campaign team had gone to the Han river to ring in the new year. It seemed like the universe (or, maybe, just Park Jimin) was conspiring against him - but he had ended up seated next to Jeongguk, shivering in the winter cold while they waited for the fireworks to start.

Jeongguk had looked at him as he trembled in his thin office blazer (he had forgotten to bring a scarf, or a coat, again) and shaken his head in disapproval.

And before Taehyung knew it, a warm, black fur-lined trench coat (that smelt so much like Gucci Guilty eau de toilette) was settling on his shoulders.

Taehyung had smiled, and looked up at Jeongguk gratefully.

“Thank you, I was freezing my balls off here.”

“Noticed,” Jeongguk had said, looking resolutely away from him and out into the darkness of the river. “It’s cold as fuck out here, and you knew we were going to be watching some fucking fireworks, and you didn’t think to bring a coat with you. You’re a genius, Kim Taehyung.”

“But aren’t you going to be cold now?”

“No, I’m warm as hell. Just shut up and watch the fireworks.”

(It was with great effort that Taehyung tried not to acknowledge the way Jeongguk cursed under his breath when the winter wind ruffled their hair, or the way he sniffled for the next three days in the office.

Or the way Jeongguk’s eyes had lit up like a child’s as the fireworks burst in kaleidoscopic shades of glitter, lighting up the night sky.

Taehyung had embraced him, then - a friendly hug, in the first moments of the new year.

“Happy New Year, Jeon Jeongguk,” he had said, looking up into Jeongguk’s eyes. “This is going to be a fantastic year.”

Somehow, he felt like he had done this before - it was an odd feeling of familiarity. Of having been somewhere similar before: him, Jeongguk - standing side by side, as the sky blazed with colour.

“Happy New Year,” Jeongguk’s eyes had filled with a warmth Taehyung had never seen. “Yes - it will be - if you say so.”

No, Taehyung had noticed none of that.)

“You’re making heart eyes whenever he walks past,” Jimin had said, while he worked on inhaling a breakfast burrito. “It’s painfully obvious. Just fuck already, for fuck’s sake.”

“I am not,” Taehyung groaned. “This office is a professional environment, and in case you haven’t noticed, we’re running a presidential campaign here.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t fuck.”

“I don’t want to,” Taehyung said, rolling his eyes. “Not everything is about fucking. Then again, you wouldn’t know that, seeing how far up Minister Min’s ass your tongue is all the time, you vulgar little smurf.”

Jimin turned an impressive shade of red. “We were talking about you, don’t get on my case.”

Taehyung had smirked, then, and proceeded to pulverise Jimin with his many astute observations of just how often Yoongi swung by their campaign headquarters to drop something off or speak to Namjoon (even when Namjoon was, obviously, not in).

“Oh ~ Yoongi-ssi,” Taehyung imitated Jimin, his voice unnaturally high and cloying. “You didn’t have to come here after work, it’s so far from the Capitol ~ oh~”

In between the bites of his own burrito, and the pleasure of watching Jimin choke on his coffee, Taehyung had banished all inappropriate thoughts of Jeongguk (or so he wanted rather desperately to believe).

Nope, Taehyung had said, when even Jin asked if ‘anything was going on’. He wasn’t the least bit attracted to Jeon Jeongguk. Nothing about Jeongguk was charming. Not the way he walked, with such confidence and a tad bit of swagger in every step. Not his voice, that sounded so often like music, even when he was angry. Not his slightly awkward overbite that was a little more prominent when he smiled widely. Not the small scar on his cheek, that Taehyung wondered ever so often where he had got it from. And most definitely not those eyes - those big, ebony orbs that  often scrutinised him with such intensity. Especially not on mornings like these - where the office was so quiet, and Taehyung wondered how Jeongguk had spent ten years alone in this gilded palace in the sky.

Most definitely not.

Just then, the alert on Taehyung’s screen chimed, signalling another scheduled event for the day. Taehyung frowned - as far as he knew, his schedule was chock-a-block with activities from 8 in the morning to 10 at night, and Jin almost never arranged new events with such short notice.

Taehyung pulled up the new schedule, and scrolled down to where the a new window flashed insistently, demanding his attention.

New schedule request from: Jeon Jeongguk

To: Kim Taehyung

Time: 10.30pm, 14 Feb 2097

Venue: Sirius Inc., Gangnam

Details: Have dinner with me.

Taehyung gasped.

Accept/ Decline?

Taehyung’s fingers hovered over the button as thoughts rushed through his mind like a freight train. Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk. Was asking him out.

He was tempted to fire off a text to Jimin, asking his best friend for his opinion - but Taehyung hesitated. He could make this decision on his own. It was, after all, all he had wanted for the last two months - even though he had found himself choking on the words every time.

Across town, as Jeongguk sipped on his morning coffee, his head shot up as a message came up on his screen. Even in the cold quiet of his home, Jeongguk felt a warm tingle spread throughout his body as he read the reply.

Kim Taehyung has accepted your request.

“He asked you out on a date?!” Jimin screeched over the phone. “It’s Valentine’s day, Taetae!

“I’m aware of that, that’s why I called to ask if you think it means -”

“Oh, this is so exciting! What are you going to wear?”

“Calm the fuck down, Chim,” Taehyung said, flipping through his notes for his third event of the day, while checking that the address was entered correctly into his car’s system. “You sound like a sorority girl. Anyway, it’s not a date, per se. It was a meeting request, for dinner.”

“On Valen-fucking-tine’s Day?”

“Yes - look, I’m not going to do anything special, I don’t even have time to change, and I got barbecue sauce on my suit earlier.”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice was laced with frustration. “You can’t do this. I cannot allow it. You’ve been thirsting after this guy for literal years -”

“I have not, and that is wildly exaggerated -”

“And now you’re going to have dinner with him on Valentine’s Day, and you’re not doing anything special? No sexy underwear? No moisturising cream on your tushy?”

“No, and I’m hanging up on your ass now, have fun getting fucked by the Hot Minister from Hell tonight!”

“Kim Taetae - I swear to God, you better fucking -”

Taehyung clicked the “End Call” button, and sighed. A phone call with Jimin had, as he predicted, done nothing but make him more nervous. He had been mildly distracted at the events all day, the words have dinner with me still echoing in his mind.

Damn it all, Taehyung thought, as the car sped off toward the next location. Damn Park Jimin. Damn the goddamn concept of Valentine’s Day.

And most of all, damn Jeon Jeongguk.

It was nearly midnight when Taehyung’s car finally pulled into the secure lobby at Sirius Tower. The last event had been absolutely dreadful, and he was completely beat. It had been one of those youth outreach stops on the campaign trail, and some people had pushed through the crowd barriers in an attempt to get closer to Namjoon - with one of them nearly bowling Taehyung over as they made their way back to the limousines. And then there was that roadblock full of elderly conservative Yang supporters that had prevented their cars from leaving for a full half hour, until the capital police had come to escort them away.

It had been a nightmare of a day, and now Taehyung was feeling anxious (and a little ill) all over again. He checked his reflection in the mirrors at their private elevator lobby - and there he was, looking slightly pale and sweaty, a faint stain of barbecue sauce still on his blazer, and, worst of all, late.

Sighing in resignation, Taehyung stepped up to the iris scanner at the elevator door, which registered his identity immediately. 

“Welcome, Kim Taehyung-ssi. You have a schedule at 99.01 - the Sky Lounge. Mr Jeon is waiting - please step in,” came the robotic voice of lift operator.

Taehyung shuddered a little - it had been months, and he still wasn’t used to how the systems at Sirius addressed him by name and had his entire schedule on log. He was also a little puzzled at the location he was being taken to. He had always been under the impression that Jeongguk’s office was on the highest floor of the tower - but apparently there was another floor he hadn’t been aware of.

When the elevator doors dinged open once again, Taehyung drew in a sharp breath when he realised just where he was.

The top floor of Sirius Inc. turned out to be a plush lounge, all velvet chairs, candlelight, and soft music, with a 360 degree view of the city. Taehyung was entranced by the lights that twinkled in the distance, and the technicolour streets still so filled with life at night. The Seoul skyline at night truly was breathtaking - and though the election season had been difficult, it was moments like these that made it more bearable.

“You’re finally here.”

Taehyung whirled around, and spotted Jeongguk, seated at the far end of the room, at the head of a dining table.

“Took your time, didn’t you?”

“I’m so sorry, Jeonggukie,” Taehyung mumbled, rushing over to Jeongguk, tossing his briefcase carelessly onto a couch as he moved. “I’ve had such a horrible day, so much happened after the rally, it was mad, no crowd control at all -”

“Shh,” Jeongguk hushed, getting up to pull Taehyung’s chair out for him. “I’m aware of that. I just wanted to make you feel bad for keeping me waiting.”

Taehyung glared at Jeongguk. “That’s mean. Is this how you treat all your dinner guests?”

“Well, I have been waiting for close to two hours - and we’ve got, like, ten minutes left of Valentine’s Day.”

“Uh, yeah. About that.”

“Hmm?” Jeongguk intoned, uncorking the decanter of wine that was perched on a stand, and filling Taehyung’s glass.

“I didn’t want to assume, but. It’s, uh… this is, um, ah - a Valentine’s day, uhm, date type, uh…”

“Yes, I believed it was fairly clear,” Jeongguk smiled. “You know, when people ask cute guys out to dinner on Valentine’s day, it is a date type thing.”

“Ah.”

“Mmhm,” Jeongguk nodded, as Taehyung shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Which means it’s rather poor form for you, showing up late on our first date. I was thinking I’d gotten stood up.”

“What? You’re fucking hot. Who in their right mind would stand you up?” Taehyung asked, immediately regretting his lack of brain-to-mouth filter as Jeongguk blushed.

“Truth be told,” Jeongguk said, looking a little nervous. “This is, uh - kind of different for me, as well. It’s sort of my first real date in… well, ever.”

“What?” Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah, it’s a little embarrassing. You see, I went to college when I was still a kid. And, as you might guess, this job doesn’t provide many opportunities for dating, to say the least. So, yeah. First date. First everything.”

Taehyung stared at Jeongguk in open-mouthed wonder. He would never have imagined it, but Jeon Jeongguk - a six-foot tall, fair, gorgeous specimen of a man - had, very possibly, never been kissed.

“Wow, this is even more awkward than I thought it would be,” Jeongguk murmured. “It would really help if you stopped staring at me.”

“Oh god,” Taehyung breathed. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just - whoa.”

“Uh - okay. So let’s pretend I didn’t just kind of tell you that I was a twenty-six year old virgin on our first date,” Jeongguk said, fiddling with the controls on the side of the table (as Taehyung tried not to choke on his wine). “And let’s get on with dinner. You must be starving.”

Taehyung marvelled as the centre of the table opened up, producing what looked like a selection of food straight out of a Michelin-starred restaurant.

“Uh - lobster bisque, and a Kobe beef fillet mignon. I know how you like it done - slightly closer to medium,” Jeongguk said, moving Taehyung’s plate towards him.

They tucked into dinner, and lapsed back into the same, casual chatter that Taehyung was used to. It was easy, Taehyung thought, to just be with Jeongguk.

“I’m quite aware it’s rather unromantic to have dinner at the office,” Jeongguk said, sipping on his wine.

“You know what’s more unromantic?” Taehyung said. “Using formal language with me. It’s been like, fucking ages, and you still call me Taehyung.”

“What would you like me to call you? Baby?”

Taehyung gulped. “Uh - well.”

Jeongguk laughed. “Scared you there, didn’t I. Alright, I’ll call you Taetae hyung, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Sure!” Taehyung said brightly. “Or, uh, just Taetae, or Taehyungie, when it’s just us.”

Jeongguk tried not to think about the implications of just us. “Yes - uh. Yeah, I sort of knew you’d have a lot of work to do right after, and I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to dress up or anything. Also, I flew in this chef from Japan, along with some prime cuts of beef - I remember you said you liked beef, when we last got the catering done for lunch…”

“That must be why this steak tastes like it comes from another planet,” Taehyung said, still chewing on a mouthful. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever had. Boy, it must be fucking great to be this rich.”

“Hmm, it has it’s perks, I guess,” Jeongguk shrugged. “But it most definitely comes with a price, that much I can say.”

Taehyung nodded in agreement, and decided not to press the question further. Jeongguk rarely talked about his early life, and Taehyung had recognised that there was an unwritten line there - demarcating where Jeongguk had built his walls, an invisible barrier that no one had breached thus far.

Just then, a song began to play in the lounge, and Taehyung perked up.

“Oh my god,” he said. “It’s John Mayer. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room! This song - this is like, my favourite song of all time.”

Jeongguk looked at him, fascinated. “Wow, I didn’t realise you liked old music, too. This song was like, released in the early 2000s. You’re always listening to all that pop music, I had no idea.”

“Are you kidding?” Taehyung chirped. “This was like, my jam growing up. I didn’t realise you had a thing for the blues.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Taetae,” Jeongguk smirked, getting to his feet and extending a hand to Taehyung. “Shall we dance?”

Taehyung laughed. “Shit - you’ve got to be kidding - this is virtually straight out of every dumb chick flick I’ve ever watched.”

Jeongguk looked at him earnestly. “Nope, I’m serious. Come on.”

Taehyung eyed Jeongguk’s outstretched hand for moment, before resting his own in it. His hand felt warm and safe, and Taehyung felt himself being drawn to his feet, his arms coming to  rest on Jeongguk’s shoulders, while the younger man’s arms settled on his hip.

They swayed a little, Taehyung’s eyes closing as the music swelled. And then, he heard it - Jeongguk singing softly in his ear, his gentle voice harmonising with the guitar’s riffs.

We're going down, and you know that we're doomed -

My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room.

Taehyung opened his eyes, and found himself looking right into Jeongguk’s. The younger man’s eyes were blown wide, as he moved closer - their noses almost touching.

Taehyung took a deep breath, his face tilting up to Jeongguk’s. He knew - if he leaned forward, an inch, and pressed his lips to Jeongguk’s - that his life would, henceforth, never be the same. So he waited, just for a moment, the fevered beat of his heart in his throat.

Then Jeongguk leaned in just that little bit more - all Merlot, and Gucci, and softness. In that instant - that tiny infinity - Taehyung felt his world tilt on its axis; and all he could taste was Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk.

“How was it, how was it, how was it!” Jimin barrelled into Taehyung in the morning, pummelling him with his small fists. “Did you finally get laid? Was it good?”

Taehyung glared at Jimin. “No, and for god’s sake will you keep it down - this is a campaign office.”

“Shut up about that shit - tell me everything,” Jimin said, settling into the chair next to Taehyung.

“No, you tell me everything,” Taehyung said, pulling Jimin’s hand out of his pocket. “Don’t think I didn’t see that thing flashing on your finger, Park Jimblejams. You’d better confess right now, before I beat it out of you.”

Jimin flushed a pretty shade of pink. “Uh, it’s nothing, I’m not married or engaged or anything. I mean, I would have told you about it. It’s like, uh, a promise ring. I bought it for him last week, y’know…”

Taehyung gagged. “A promise ring, God, what are you guys, like, pushing 30 -”

“I’m in my late twenties, thank you, and what the fuck, so are you -”

“Promise ring. Jesus. And he’s a minister. Good lord, our country’s education system is run by a man who’s whipped as fuck by an eleven year old girl.”

Jimin punched Taehyung on the arm. “Stop changing the subject, you dumbass. How did your night go? Tell me now or I’m revoking Tier One Friendship Privileges.”

Taehyung gasped. “Oh, not Tier One - Chimchim -”

“I’m not kidding, man, cut the shit - what happened?”

Taehyung looked away, clicking absently at the schedule on his screen. “It was good, uh. We had dinner. It was nice.”

“Oh my god,” Jimin said. “You finally fucked him, didn’t you. Please tell me you didn’t fuck on my desk - I eat off it, Taetae.”

“No, you disgusting midget,” Taehyung said, slapping Jimin on the arm. “None of that happened. Uh, we ate, we drank a bit of wine, and danced a little. It was romantic.”

“Did you at least kiss him?!”

Taehyung blushed. “Uh… mm. Yeah…?”

“Oh good lord, thank fuck. So how was it?” Jimin badgered him insistently, waggling his eyebrows.

“It was… damn, Chim. You know that feeling when you’ve wanted something for so long, and you’ve built it up so spectacularly in your head -”

“Yeah, yeah - what are you trying to say? That it was disappointing?”

“No - shit, far from it. It’s that it was better. Fuck - it was better than anything I’d ever felt in my life. Like I’d been kissing him in a past life, and that I prayed to Jesus and Buddha that I could be reincarnated just so I could continue kissing him over and over -”

“Wow,” Jimin breathed. “That good, huh.”

Taehyung nodded, burying his face in his hands. “Yeah,” he whined. “That fucking good. I mean, what the fuck does Jeon Jeongguk use on those lips?! Gold-dusted cherry lip gloss?”

“Uh, Taetae -”

“Fuck, he tasted so good, it was like, y’know, rainbows and unicorns stampeding through my head -”

“Taetae -”

“Y’know, I wanna bottle it and sell it. It was like pure sex. Sex on Egyptian cotton sheets. I’m going to manufacture the fuck out of it. Jeongguk Kisses. I would be a fucking millionaire, I swear, Chim -”

“Ahem.”

Taehyung opened his eyes, and, to his horror, he saw Jeongguk standing there in the doorway, in all his Hermès-suited glory, grinning at him like a boy who’d just been given a handful of candy.

“Good morning - Taetae hyung,” Jeongguk said, his voice silky as he strode across the office and slid into his desk chair.

Taehyung spluttered, as Jimin tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to suppress his laughter.

“Uh - uh, good morning, Jeongguk!” he replied, leaping to his feet and trying rather unsuccessfully to stuff his belongings into his briefcase. “Ah - busy day! Long events! We’ll be back in the evening!”

Jeongguk nodded, a look of amusement still lingering in his eyes as Taehyung finally got the lock on his briefcase to work, and dragged Jimin out of the office with him.

Kim Taehyung was, decidedly, too bloody adorable, Jeongguk thought. Infuriating, inappropriate, beautiful - and his.

It was the night of the first presidential debate, and it appeared that the television stations in Seoul had spared no expense at all for this election. A temporary stage had been set up right under the statue of Yi-Sun Shin at Gwanghwamun square, and a large crowd had filled all the seats in the area.

“Jesus,” Jin had breathed, gaping at live footage of the crowd being broadcast backstage. “That is a lot of people.”

“It was expected,” Jeongguk said, observing the feed on his laptop. Beside him, Taehyung ran through the keywords one last time with Namjoon.

“The turnout’s warranted, seeing as we’re just three months out from election day now. We’ve got good feedback so far, Namjoon hyung. We just need you to hit the key messages that we discussed, and we’re all good.”

“Jeongguk-ssi,” A staffer peeked his head through the doorway. “There’s… someone here to see you.”

Jeongguk looked up, and sure enough - Jiyong stood at the door.

“Jeongguk,” he said, his voice smooth and level. “It’s been so long. Aren’t you going to come say hello to your hyung?”

Jeongguk set his tablet aside calmly, before getting to his feet. “Jiyong-ssi. Isn’t the President’s tent at the other side of the square?”

“Hmm,” Jiyong purred. “Indeed it is. I just couldn’t resist coming over to say hello to my favourite traitor. When are you going to sell Governor Kim out, huh?” Jiyong tilted his head toward Taehyung, a smirk spreading across his face. “When you run out of pretty boy staffer dick to suck?”

Jeongguk lunged at Jiyong, his hands curling around the lapels of his suit. “Say that again, motherfucker. I fucking dare you.”

Jiyong laughed scornfully, before spitting in Jeongguk’s face. “Ooh, dirty. Who raised you that way? If I’d known you’d have such a foul mouth, I would have let you and your parents die in that Busan shithole you call home.”

Jeongguk pushed Jiyong forcefully against the wall, his arm against his throat. “I’ll kill you,” he snarled. “I’ll fucking end you, and you won’t even know what got you fucked up, hyung.”

Before he knew it, Taehyung was at his side, holding him back. “Jeonggukie,” he said, his voice soft. “Let go, Jeonggukie, it’s not worth it, let go -”

Jiyong stared straight into Jeongguk’s eyes - steel grey meeting black. “I created you, Jeon Jeongguk,” he gasped, as Jeongguk tightened his arm around his neck, pinning him against the wall. “I made you who you are, you fucking wretch. And make no motherfucking mistake - I’m going to tear you apart, bit by bit, and listen to you scream for mercy as I do it.”

Jeongguk pushed him away, out of the door, his eyes still burning with rage. “I’d like to see you try.”

Jiyong smiled - a crazed, evil grin that chilled Jeongguk to the bone. “I gave you everything you fucking have, Jeonggukie,” he said, turning away, and strutting down the corridor. “Now just sit pretty and wait, and watch me take it all away.”

“Holy shit,” Namjoon said, gaping at the screens in the Control Room. “F-fuck me. That can’t be real.”

“Hell, of course it is!” Jackson said, pulling up yet another graph. The entire team had gathered in the room, an hour after the debate - and there had been nothing but good news from Jackson thus far.

“Key messages firing on all cylinders on my end,” Jeongguk said, scanning the graphs on his screen. “Jackson - some elaboration on the poll numbers?”

“Eight out of ten people polled in eight districts right after watching your debate performance said they were convinced by your messaging. Seven out of ten - holy fucking hell - said they’d vote for you. This shit is spectacular,” Jackson said, flicking through the polls that were flooding his screen. “Sentiment online at an all time high - people are going nuts, son.”

“Holy,” Namjoon still couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Damn…”

Taehyung stared at the screen, a little dazed. The comments pouring in on all the social media channels had nearly broken the system - and they were only an hour in.

It was fascinating, and terrifying - and all because of Jeon Jeongguk.

“So, Namjoon hyung,” Jeongguk said. “Congratulations on a wonderful night. And, if this is any indication of things to come - I hope you’re ready to be President.”

It was almost 1am when Taehyung finally hopped into his ivory BMW limo, almost sighing in relief as the door slid shut. Days like this, he was happy that Jeongguk’s campaign funds seemed endless - because the thought of braving a night bus back to the tiny apartment he shared with Jimin was, at that point, exceptionally horrible.

Jimin, meanwhile, had gone off to celebrate with his boyfriend - which left Taehyung heading home alone - tired, cranky, and frankly ravenous from not eating almost all day.

He closed his eyes, and loosened his tie as the car pulled out of the driveway. If he napped now, he could catch an extra half hour of sleep - and that in itself, would be a blessing.

Just when he was about to doze off, an insistent ringing echoed around the interior of the car. Taehyung groaned, peeling his eyes open and reaching for the console.

“Hello?” He murmured.

“Taetae?”

“Oh!” He perked up. “Gukkie! Why are you calling? Is everything alright?”

“Uh - no, nothing important. Are you home already?”

“Nope,” Taehyung leaned over and checked the map. “Still south of the river. Why?”

“I was wondering,” Jeongguk paused, as though he was struggling to piece his words together. “If you’d mind coming over.”

“To the office?” Taehyung glanced at the time. “It’s late, Gukkie. Could we discuss it in the morning, or just on here?”

“No, uh,” Jeongguk sighed. “I meant, my home. To my home.”

Now, Taehyung felt himself being lost for words. “Uh - o-okay.”

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jeongguk said hurriedly. “But it’d be nice -”

“No, I’ll come down,” Taehyung said.

“Great,” Jeongguk said, relief in his voice. “I’ll message you the coordinates. See you in a bit.”

“Alright,” Taehyung hung up.

It’s nothing, he told himself. It’s just dinner. Yes. It’s just dinner.

In a second, the monitor beeped, signalling that coordinates had come through - and the car made a turn, and sped off, back to Gangnam.

Taehyung took a deep breath, and adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, before reaching out to press the doorbell. He had gotten lost twice in the lobby, and wandered into the wrong elevator altogether, before Jeongguk’s doorman had come to his rescue.

To his relief, he heard the padding of footsteps behind the door, and then sound of the locks clicking open.

“Hey, you,” Jeongguk appeared from behind the door, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Got here pretty fast.”

“Mmhm,” Taehyung grinned, slipping past Jeongguk and into his apartment as the door locked behind them. He was barely a step in, when Jeongguk pulled him close, and kissed him on the forehead. Sighing, Taehyung leaned into his warmth, resting his forehead against Jeongguk’s.

“You’re the worst,” Taehyung complained. “I’m so tired, and you made me come all the way back into the city at ass o’ clock.”

Jeongguk winced. “Oops. I just figured you hadn’t eaten tonight. So I… uh… cooked. A thing.”

“Ooh,” Taehyung said, sniffing the air. “Do I smell…”

“Yep,” Jeongguk said, taking his hand and pulling him down the long corridor into his apartment. “Kimchi ramyun cup noodles, and fried chicken - from your favourite delivery place.”

“Nah, that’s just heating shit up, it barely even counts as cooking,” Taehyung teased. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that to get me in your apartment again, Gukkie.”

Jeongguk shook his head disapprovingly. “You’ve got a dashing man providing supper for you and you’re complaining. You’re incorrigible.”

“Uhuh,” Taehyung said. “Oh - wow.”

He hadn’t quite expected Jeongguk’s apartment to look the way it did - but it was magnificent. A million-dollar view of the Han river materialised outside the floor-length windows, and Taehyung wondered just how much it cost Jeongguk to live there.

Then he looked around the apartment - and saw nothing but flat, shiny edges and cold, dark surfaces. From the rather uncomfortable-looking minimalist 3D-printed chaise lounge, to the metal chairs around the bar, everything looked hard and impersonal - as if no one actually lived there. It was glorious - yes; but it felt empty, and slightly soulless.

“Damn,” he mumbled. “The aesthetic is real.”

Jeongguk laughed. “You really don’t like it, huh. I didn’t want any mess of any sort around my place, so I hired this famous designer - Choi Seung Hyun - he specialises in chairs, but he did a good job here. It’s all very clean, and, y’know - uncluttered.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung replied with a noncommittal sound. He thought of his own apartment: a tiny, walk-up, filled with soft toys, video games and undone dishes, that was the exact opposite of Jeongguk’s. Taehyung’s parents had begged him to move into a bigger place, or to at least tidy up occasionally, but they had liked the mess. It made them feel at home, like they could be their their sloppy selves without worrying about leaving water marks on metal countertops.

But here - in Jeongguk’s bachelor pad, Taehyung felt like his very presence was an aberration. It was an uncomfortable feeling - one that intensified whenever he thought of the way Jiyong had looked at Jeongguk.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Jeongguk’s voice echoed in the apartment, as he clapped his hands. “Carl - the food, please.”

Taehyung had just sat down when he leapt up again, the appearance of an actual robot in the apartment taking him by surprise.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung swore. “What the fuck is that?”

“Oh,” Jeongguk said sheepishly. “It’s my butler - uh - his name is Carl!”

“Why in God’s good name do you have a robotic butler?” Taehyung asked, his eyes wide as Carl rolled toward him, a tray of ramyun in his hands.

“Well, He makes housework real easy, for one.” Jeongguk said, watching Taehyung amusedly as the older man leaned toward Carl, scrutinising the robot’s blinking, blue eyes. “Also, I’m a lazy motherfucker,” he admitted.

“So did you cook this yourself, or did Carl do it?” Taehyung chuckled, sniffing the ramyun.

“I did it myself!” Jeongguk exclaimed indignantly. “I boiled the water and everything.”

Taehyung snorted. “With Carl’s supervision?”

“Thanks, Carl,” Jeongguk remarked, before waving his hands to dismiss it, watching as Taehyung’s eyes followed the robot’s path back into the kitchen. “Also, I’ll have you know that I almost burnt my hand on the stove.”

“Oh, poor you - how hard you worked,” Taehyung said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Jeongguk reached over, and pinched him on the cheeks. “That’s rude, I’m feeding you here.”

“Yeah - if you didn’t feed me after I’d been practically starving all day, that’d make you a pretty shitty boyfriend, don’t you think?”

Jeongguk’s eyes grew big in surprise, as Taehyung stuttered.

“Uh, I meant -”

“No, you said it,” Jeongguk said triumphantly, a silly grin spreading across his face.

“I said nothing,” Taehyung replied, pouting and turning away, focusing intently on his ramyun.

Jeongguk reached over, and took Taehyung’s hands in his.

“I thought you were my boyfriend. I mean, I’m yours. You can say it if you want, it doesn’t scare me.”

Taehyung looked up at Jeongguk, his features flooding with relief.

“So… we’re…”

“Dating, yes.”

“Dating.”

“Yeah. Wow, you’re real eloquent, Harvard.”

Taehyung frowned. “You’re really fucking mean to your boyfriend, mister. I don’t know if this relationship is going all that well.”

“Hmm,” Jeongguk hummed, wrapping one of his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders. “Well, I could give you one of Jeongguk’s Kisses, I heard it makes you feel like unicorns and rainbows are stampeding through your mind -”

“Shut up,” Taehyung blushed. “You’re disgusting. Let me eat my ramyun.”

Jeongguk watched Taehyung as he gobbled down the ramyun at a breakneck pace, and started demolishing the chicken.

“Goodness,” Jeongguk said, as the older man reached for another drumstick. “The magazine articles were right. Relationships do get unsexy real fast.”

“Don’t lie,” Taehyung said, through a mouthful of chicken. “I eat in a cute way. This is adorable.”

“If you say so,” Jeongguk murmured, his fingers drawing circles on Taehyung’s shoulder, as the older man slouched onto his chest - still chomping on a piece of meat. He felt himself getting a little drowsy, with Taehyung’s soft body, pressed, like a human space heater against his own. It had been years since Jeongguk had felt so warm - and it was nice.

“Gukkie?” Taehyung said, breaking the silence, as he licked the oil off his fingers.

“Mm?” Jeongguk answered sleepily, running his hand through Taehyung’s hair. The older man shifted, and rested his head in his lap, tilting his chin to look at Jeongguk.

“I feel like, I don’t know anything about you, sometimes,” Taehyung said, his eyes clouding with worry. “Like, y’know, I know about M.I.T., and your life in the last ten years - but what about, y’know. Before.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrowed, and his hands paused while stroking Taehyung’s head.

“I’m sorry - I mean - you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, or you aren’t ready. I just - wanted to ask. I was curious,” Taehyung backtracked swiftly.

Jeongguk shook his head. “No, don’t apologise. I just… don’t quite give it much thought. It’s not fun to think about.”

“But why?” Taehyung sat up, his hands slotting themselves into Jeongguk’s. “Did something… bad happen?”

“No,” the younger man said. “Actually - I think my some parts of my growing up years were the happiest, ever. It just hurts, sometimes to think about it. What do you wanna know?”

“So - today, when Kwon Jiyong came in,” said Taehyung, looking down at their intertwined hands. “I couldn’t help but notice - it was the angriest I’d ever seen you. You looked so wounded, so affected. I guess… I just wanna know what happened there. Because if it’s important to you - it’s important to me.”

Jeongguk smiled, tightening his grip around Taehyung’s hands. “Alright. I understand. God, buckle up - I’m warning you, this is a long story…”

Taehyung settled into Jeongguk’s side, poking his midriff. “Then get to it. I’m very demanding and I want to hear this very badly.”

“Bossy,” Jeongguk chuckled. “And I thought I was the big CEO.”

Taehyung huffed, and wrapped his arms around Jeongguk’s waist. “Alright, go on.”

“Hmm, alright. So, a long time ago, back in Busan - we were really poor. My parents tried to take care of me the way other parents cared for their kids, but they couldn’t - they worked two jobs, and even so, we were starving half the time. It was tough - I don’t remember much of it, but I remember looking up at the sky, and thinking that it was possible - that one day, I would crawl out of that hellhole that I’d been born in.”

“You would think things were bad enough for us - but no, my mother left my father - and took me with her. We started living with this guy - this factory foreman, in a two-bedroom apartment. But he would come home drunk as fuck, and beat the shit out of me when I made a sound. So I made no noise - and didn’t speak for days, at times.”

“So that’s when… Jiyong hyung, he came along. He was from a rich, Seoulite family - old friends of my dad’s. And I had admired him - idolised him, growing up. I was eight, that year - barely into elementary school - and he took me under his wing. I came to Seoul with him - got personal tutors, the whole deal. And I was enrolled in an elite school in Gangnam - graduate stop of my high school class. I hated to admit it - but I felt no emotion, leaving home. Felt nothing when I waved goodbye to my mother. Jiyong hyung was my personal ticket out of hell.”

“But a year later, Jiyong-hyung’s father died, and his family went bankrupt. Then we were back to square one. Broke as fuck, again. And I thought - this is it, isn’t it? My last chance, blown. I was going to die poor, having amounted to nothing but a worthless, starving motherfucker. ”

Jeongguk’s voice cracked a little, and he felt Taehyung’s arms wrapping tighter around his midriff.

“That’s when Jiyong hyung got that job, working as an aide for Yang Hyun Suk. He was the man’s favourite, for some strange, inexplicable reason. I suppose they went well, together - Jiyong was always an ambitious man, and Yang - well, he just wanted a smart, capable man who would do everything to succeed.”

“That’s when I went to college - on Jiyong hyung’s dollar. And they - they made me successful. And the rest is pretty much history. And that is why, no matter how much I try to deny it - the fucker’s right. I owe him everything. My life, my achievements. Everything.”

“No, you don’t,” Taehyung said fiercely, jackknifing into a sitting position. “You don’t, Jeonggukie - and I refuse to hear you say that your success is owed to anyone. It fucking isn’t. You built this - Sirius, this insane system - that changed the world as we knew it. And now you’re helping Namjoon make this city a cleaner, brighter place. You did it.”

Jeongguk reached up, and wiped away the teardrops that were staining Taehyung’s cheekbones and dripping down to his jawline. “Taetae - don’t cry - it’s alright -”

“No, it isn’t,” Taehyung protested, enveloping Jeongguk in his embrace. “It’s not. Guk - I want you to know this - that you don’t have to fight alone, anymore. You have us, now. Our hyungs, even Jimin and Jackson.”

Jeongguk’s breath caught in his throat, as he pulled away from Taehyung, watching the tears shine in his boyfriend’s eyes.

“And you… have me.”

Jeongguk felt the tears welling up in his own eyes as he leaned over, and pressed a bruising kiss to Taehyung’s lips. He felt Taehyung whimper in surprise, as his lips moved against his, his hands pulling on Jeongguk’s collar.

“Yes - I have you, now,” Jeongguk said quietly, peppering the smoothness of Taehyung’s cheeks with kisses. Taehyung sighed, caressing Jeongguk’s jaw with his hands, his brown eyes meeting Jeongguk’s.

“Don’t be lonely, Jeon Jeongguk,” Taehyung whispered drowsily, his nose nuzzling against Jeongguk’s neck. “I won’t let you be alone, anymore.”

Jeongguk nodded absently, his lips finding Taehyung’s again, as his arms coiled possessively around the other man’s waist. “No, I’m not alone, not anymore,” he mumbled. “You’re mine. You’re mine, and god damn it - I -”

It was then that he noticed Taehyung’s breathing had changed - becoming slower, and softer. Jeongguk observed him carefully, for a moment, and realised, with a start, that he had dozed off in his arms - his eyelids fluttering as he slept.

Jeongguk chuckled, shaking his head at how incredible the whole situation was. He had poured out his whole life story to Taehyung - and in the middle of a teary make-out session, the man had fallen asleep.

But Jeongguk was used to Taehyung, now - the ridiculous, beautiful phenomenon that he was. At times, he felt like he was out of his depth - too wonderstruck to predict what was coming his way.

Yet Jeongguk knew one thing. In the morning, they would wake, and go back to the campaign trail. Jeongguk would be stretched thin - and turn harsh, unforgiving, and blunt - barking orders, rushing from meeting to meeting.

But in that moment, Taehyung was curled up in his arms. Kind, forgiving Taehyung, who smiled at everyone, unfailingly, even when his limbs ached with fatigue, and everything was going a little sideways.

Some mornings, when Taehyung smiled at him over a cup of morning coffee, Jeongguk felt an unexplainable ache in his heart. It was precisely moments like that, where Jeongguk had to look away, unable to hold the other’s gaze for too long. It was like staring at the sun, Jeongguk mused - for Taehyung shone, like a dazzling beacon of light, his glorious warmth illuminating even the darkest crevices of Jeongguk’s heart. And there Jeongguk was, a willing satellite: drawn, ever so irresistibly, to Taehyung’s touch, obeying his law of gravity.

Jeongguk pressed another kiss to Taehyung’s forehead, watching his boyfriend sleep as he snuggled against his chest, his body pliant against his. And as he closed his tired eyes, Jeongguk pulled Taehyung closer, instinctively, the older man’s soft lips brushing against the column of his neck.

There were many stars in the sky, Jeongguk thought, vaguely, as he drifted off, but by far, Kim Taehyung was the brightest, most brilliant one.

Jeongguk thought it was a welcome change, waking up that way: Taehyung’s head nestled into the crook of his arm, his limbs curled around Jeongguk’s torso. In the early rays of the morning sun, Jeongguk couldn’t help but stare at the way Taehyung’s cherry-pink lips opened slightly as he breathed; his chest rising and falling gently with every exhale. He couldn’t resist shifting a little, moving his hand to stroke Taehyung’s cheek softly while he slept, smiling as Taehyung finally stirred in his embrace, a sleepy whine slipping out of his lips.

“Mmf,” Taehyung groaned, rolling out of Jeongguk’s embrace. Jeongguk tried to ignore how he stretched his arms out like a cat, still warm and content from the night’s sleep, the soft, smooth skin of his belly peeking out from where his dress shirt had hiked up. “Is it morning already?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk croaked, his voice still low and raspy as he reached for his phone. “God - it’s six -”

“Noo,” Taehyung collapsed back onto Jeongguk’s chest, his eyes still closed, and his thin fingers curling back around Jeongguk’s arm. “Just ten more minutes…”

“Go back to sleep,” Jeongguk said, ruffling Taehyung’s hair a little and dropping a soft kiss onto his cheek. “I’ll hop into the shower, and I’ll wake you when I get out.”

With much effort, Jeongguk extricated himself from Taehyung’s grasp, and padded away, down the corridor and into the bathroom.

When he emerged, having showered, shaved and changed into his suit for the day, Jeongguk found Taehyung in the kitchen, all messy hair and sleepy eyes, peering curiously at Carl as the robot whizzed around the kitchen island.

“How did you get him to work?” Jeongguk asked, his arm curling around the other man’s waist from behind, as he bent to drop a chaste kiss on the exposed skin of Taehyung’s neck.

“Mm, good morning,” Taehyung breathed. “I dunno - I just clapped my hands and said ‘Carl, I want pancakes’, and he came rolling on out.”

“I see,” Jeongguk said, resting his chin on Taehyung’s neck, and inhaling the remnants of his own cologne on Taehyung’s collar, mixed with the faint scent of lilies that always seemed to linger on the older man’s skin.

Taehyung turned, his eyes still drowsy, and ran his hands through Jeongguk’s unstyled hair. “I prefer you like this,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep, as his fingers tangled in Jeongguk’s hair, their bodies flush against each other. “With your hair down. You look so cool, all the time. But you’re soft now. My soft Gukkie.”

Jeongguk chuckled at the sleepy babbles of nonsense that left his boyfriend’s lips, before leaning down to kiss him again. “Go and get cleaned up, Taetae. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. I laid out a fresh suit for you, too.”

Taehyung made a small sound of protest, before pulling away from Jeongguk reluctantly and shuffling down the hallway.

Jeongguk sighed in contentment, watching him go. As the shower door slid shut, Jeongguk looked around his apartment. He had lived here for years - but something, somehow, had shifted in the air. He had never noticed the way the skies turned pink as the sun peeked over the horizon, or the bubbling of the coffee as it brewed, or the delightful sizzling of the pancakes in the pan. And Jeongguk wondered - how he had stayed all alone in this apartment, for so long.

I could get used to this, Jeongguk thought. A world with Kim Taehyung in it.

Taehyung waited at the curbside, glancing occasionally at his watch. Jimin had offered to swing by and pick him up after his event at Yongsan-gu, so they could head back to the campaign office together. Taehyung would have taken his own car back, but Jimin had promised ddeokbokki, and Taehyung was not one to say no to ddeokbokki.

“You’re late,” Taehyung grumbled, as he opened the door of Jimin’s blue Mercedes, sliding in next to him. “Like, a full fifteen minutes late.”

“The ddeokbokki queue was really long, you asshole,” Jimin said, handing him a packet. “Ooh - you look nice today, Taetae.”

“Uhuh? Finally noticing me again? Came up for breath long enough from kissing your boyfriend to care for your lonely, neglected friend?”

“Wait,” Jimin paused, his eyes narrowing. “Shut up for a second and answer me - that suit isn’t yours, is it.”

“Uh.”

“Kim Taehyung…”

“Well -”

“Taetae -”

“Yes - it’s his…” Taehyung blushed, digging into his ddeokboki with renewed vigour.

“Wow,” Jimin leaned back in his seat. “Shit - so you’re… dating?”

“Yeah, we had the talk last night. I guess I’m… attached, now? Officially.”

“Hot damn, that’s brilliant,” Jimin grinned. “I’m so happy for you, Taetae.”

Taehyung beamed back at Jimin, and poked his chubby cheeks with a long, thin finger. “And I could say the same for you, Chimchim. My mochi has found loooove.”

“Psht,” Jimin hushed, taking another bite of his lunch. “I wouldn’t call it love, yet.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t,” Taehyung said, rolling his eyes. “Just a lot of fucking, huh.”

Jimin nearly gagged on his Cola.

“Ah!” Taehyung laughed, his eyes twinkling. “A preview of your next date!”

Jimin coughed, trying to regain his composure, before slapping Taehyung on the knee. “So do you think there’s gonna be… I don’t know…potential?”

“Hmm,” Taehyung considered. “Well, I don’t really know at this point. It’s too soon to say. Especially with how busy we all are. But, you know, when the election’s over - we could take a trip. Go somewhere nice.”

Jimin nodded. “I hear you. God, can’t believe we’ve been working on this for almost a year.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighed, a smile spreading across his face. “But it’s been a wild ride, huh. Thanks for doing this with me, Chimchim.”

“Nah - I wanted to, you know? Like, we’ve learnt so much, had so much fun together.”

Taehyung laughed, and looped his arm around Jimin’s shoulder. “Well - just two months now, huh? Barely sixty days left of Park Chimchim and Kim Taetae’s Quest for Justice.”

“Good god,” Jimin said. “I’d almost forgotten we sent in that resume. And now here we are. Proper staffers in suits and fancy cars. Imagine if you’d never studied politics, or if I’d never agreed to quit my shitty job and join this campaign. We wouldn’t be here, together, or found our twinky asses a pair of hot men. Damn - our lives - they just work out in strange ways, huh? ”

“Yeah,” Taehyung smiled. “How very strange, indeed.”

“We’re going to have to intensify the way we talk about policy, hyung,” Jeongguk said, pacing around the boardroom. “The words... they need more teeth. We’re doing really well in the outlying districts - Daegu, Busan,  hell, even fucking Jeju.”

“But we’re still bleeding a little in Seoul, especially with the older people,” Jackson added. “They don’t use much of the new social media that we’re tapping onto - because they’re bloody dinosaurs - so we need to hit the President’s camp hard when we go into the last month.”

Namjoon nodded, straining his bloodshot eyes to read what Jeongguk had typed up for him. “What is this?”

“Focus groups found that the campaign message resonates with younger people, but less so with the older ones,” Taehyung said, nudging a file toward Namjoon. “So this means - more campaigning on elements of togetherness, strength, stability - all of these appeal to the people you want to reach.”

“Let’s not lose our lead here,” Jeongguk said, his eyes focused on the graphs that pulsed, multicoloured, across the large screen. “We’re only two points down from Yang - especially after that scandal about Lee starving his female artistes broke. The liberal Lee supporters are starting to be swayed to our side - so we need to work hard and make sure this strategy comes through next week.”

“Which means more rallies, more events, hitting at least five campaign stops a day,” Jin said, sighing. “Alright - this will need a fair bit of planning on my end. But I think we should all take a break tomorrow. Cool off, recharge, and buckle up for the home stretch.”

“Sounds good,” Namjoon said. “And maybe I can get more than three hours of sleep a day. There’s only so much fatigue that camera makeup can hide.”

“Alright,” Jeongguk concurred. “Thanks, everyone. See you back here at HQ on Monday. Taehyung-hyung, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Taehyung smiled at his hyungs as they filed out of the room, hanging back, and closing the door when they were gone.

Before he knew it, Jeongguk was behind him, turning him around and tugging him close again. Taehyung blinked slowly through the glasses that he had worn that day, and smiled up at Jeongguk, looping his arms around the younger man’s waist.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Taehyung said, tiptoeing and pecking Jeongguk on the lips. “What did you need me to stay back for? I’ve got to go round up some stuff with Chimchim downstairs.”

“Come meet me on the roof when you’re done,” Jeongguk said, his eyes filled with warmth.

“Alright,” Taehyung nodded at Jeongguk, puzzled, before pulling away and slipping out the door.

The meeting with Jimin had been quick, because his best friend seemed incredibly eager to get out of the building as well - he surmised that a certain, shortish minister had something to do with that. It was thus with a sense of relief that Taehyung hopped into the elevator with a spring in his step, anticipating what Jeongguk had planned for him on the roof.

His mouth fell open as he stepped out of the elevator, and took in the sight before his eyes. Jeongguk - still in his office suit - stood in front of a sleek, black helicopter.

“What the hell?” Taehyung exclaimed, jogging toward Jeongguk. “What are you doing, Gukkie?”

“Since we have a day off,” Jeongguk grinned, “I thought I would take you somewhere nice.”

“Excuse me, but I thought somewhere nice for normal people meant, you know, a nice restaurant, or a nice car ride - not a helicopter,” Taehyung said.

Jeongguk shrugged. “I bought it a few years back, and haven’t flown it much. Thought it’d be a good time to see if my flying was still up to scratch.”

“You’re really the king of overdoing things, aren’t you?”

Jeongguk grinned, and extended a hand to Taehyung. “I just like spoiling you. I love it when I can make you smile.”

Taehyung’s heart skipped a little at the word love.

“Alright,” Taehyung beamed. “Where are you whisking me off to, Prince Charming?”

Jeongguk leaned over to strap Taehyung in, before fastening his own seatbelt and taking hold of the controls.

“Home.”

Taehyung saw his mother, first - standing at the end of the road where they lived. He had let out a whoop of joy, and dashed down the path toward her, enveloping her in a tight hug as he spun her around. Then he saw his father - looking a little older, and more tired than before - coming toward him, his arms outstretched. In the distance, Taehyung’s pet Jindo dog, Soonshimmie, bounded up and down, barking happily.

Taehyung flung himself into the arms of his parents, warm tears rolling down his cheeks as they embraced.

“You brat,” his father berated. “A whole year, and you didn’t even come home. Not even for Chuseok.”

Taehyung wiped the tears out of his eyes furiously. “I didn’t have the money, and I was so busy…”

His mother shushed his father, and hugged him tightly again. “It’s alright, you’re here now, Taetae. Oh, where is Jeongguk-ssi? We simply have to meet him now.”

“Oh!” Taehyung jolted, suddenly remembering that he had left his boyfriend trailing behind him. “Gukkie!” He waved at Jeongguk, who was trotting rather awkwardly up the path to Taehyung’s house.

Jeongguk bowed low when he approached Taehyung’s parents. “Mr Kim - Mrs Kim, my name is Jeongguk. We’re incredibly sorry for the short notice.”

“No, don’t apologise,” Taehyung’s mother gushed, wrapping Jeongguk up into a warm hug as well. “We have so much to thank him for - bringing our son down here to see us.”

“It’s no matter,” Jeongguk smiled broadly, his teeth a dazzling white in the morning sun. “We had a day off on the campaign, and I knew Taehyung would want to see his parents, sometime.”

Taehyung gazed at Jeongguk, tears of gratitude filling his eyes again.

“Alright, no time for crying,” Taehyung’s father said, ushering them all into the house. “You’ve had a long journey - time to get cleaned up and have a good meal, Kim family style!”

While Taehyung chatted endlessly with his parents, filling them in on his life in Seoul, Jeongguk had taken a shower, changed out of his suit. He hadn’t brought any clothes with him - so he changed into a set of Taehyung’s clothes that Mrs Kim had laid out on the bed. As shrugged on the oversized t-shirt, (which, mysteriously, had cut-out holes in the side), and a pair of loose baseball shorts, Jeongguk spotted himself in the mirror, and imagined Taehyung, fresh out of college, cycling around Daegu in this ridiculously comfortable outfit. He stifled a laugh - it had been a while since he’d worn anything like this, and he looked like a regular young man, again.

“Gukkie, you’ve been in there a while - are you alright? Oh wow…”

Taehyung had popped into the room to check on Jeongguk - but his jaw dropped a little, at the sight of the younger man wearing his clothes. He clicked the door behind him, and closed the distance between himself and Jeongguk, running his hands over the other’s arms.

“You should wear my clothes all the time,” Taehyung said, leaning up and pressing a kiss on Jeongguk’s neck, his fingers finding their way through the holes in the shirt to caress his side. “It’s incredibly hot.”

Jeongguk shivered, and pulled Taehyung’s hands away. “You should stop right there, if you don’t want your parents to think we’re making out in here,” he mumbled, kissing Taehyung sweetly on the lips.

“Huh,” Taehyung scoffed. “They’ve seen worse. Oh well, come on, then. The food’s getting cold.”

“Wait,” Jeongguk spluttered. “What’s worse?”

Taehyung turned, and winked at Jeongguk, before opening the door. “When you’re ready, we’ll find out.”

Their Sunday in Daegu had passed quickly - much too quickly, in Taehyung’s opinion. After a breakfast that had filled both Taehyung and Jeongguk’s stomachs to the brim, they had taken a trip to a nearby strawberry farm with Mr and Mrs Kim. The two elders were very much taken by Jeongguk - complimenting him on his good looks and impeccable manners at every turn. Taehyung even felt a little jealous at how much attention was being lavished on Jeongguk.

The sun was setting, when Taehyung had put Soonshimmie on a leash, and dragged Jeongguk out for an impromptu tour of the neighbourhood. They set off on a brisk walk, their hands intertwined, as Soonshimmie pranced next to them.

“This is where I went to school,” Taehyung pointed out a red-brick building as they walked past. “I hated going to school, though. I got bullied a lot for being weird.”

“You’re not weird,” Jeongguk frowned. “Those people must have been out of their minds.”

Taehyung snorted. “Nah. I was a bit of an alien then. Still am, actually. I talked to myself a lot. I was a weird kid, Jeon Jeongguk. You wouldn’t have even thought of dating me then.”

“Hmm,” Jeongguk mused. “I like you all the same, though. With or without the weirdness.”

Taehyung squeezed Jeongguk’s hand appreciatively. “You’re sweet.”

They made a round of the neighbourhood - and were almost back at Taehyung’s place, when he suddenly let go of Jeongguk’s hand, and broke into a run, dragging Soonshimmie along with him.

“Race you!” He hollered, racing up the path lined with yellow flowers.

Jeongguk laughed, and took off after Taehyung, his long strides easily catching up with Taehyung’s. He caught his boyfriend around the waist, and Taehyung yelped as Jeongguk lifted him a little off the ground.

“No fair,” Taehyung panted. “I had Soonshimmie. She slowed me down.”

“Mmhm,” Jeongguk smiled, brushing Taehyung’s fringe out of his eyes. “Soonshimmie’s what made you lose.”

Taehyung scowled, and hit Jeongguk lightly on the chest. “Unf, you’re such a caveman. Put me down!”

Jeongguk chuckled, and set Taehyung lightly down onto the ground, his hands settling lightly on Taehyung’s shoulders.

“What prize do I get?” Jeongguk’s lips quirked into a smirk.

“Nothing!” Taehyung said, his lips pulling into that boxy grin that Jeongguk so adored. “You get nothing, because you cheated…”

Jeongguk didn’t know if he was imagining it - but in the peach-red gleam of the Daegu sunset, Taehyung looked even more fragile and enchanting than before. And in the dying light of the day, Jeongguk couldn’t resist lowering his lips to Taehyung’s - and kissing him, the older man’s soft, irresistible lips pillowing against his own; the taste of strawberries still light on his tongue.

“Chimchim,” Taehyung whined, tugging at the cuffs of his best friend’s sleeves. “It’s eleven. He’s never going to show up.”

Jimin looked at his watch, his brows furrowing. “Nah, if he said he’d be here, he’ll get here. Give the man some time, he’s had a tough day today.”

Taehyung let out a little sigh, turning in his seat to look around the ballroom again.

They were almost two hours into the Independent Ball, a massive, 1920s-themed gala that Jin had, artfully, turned into the biggest fundraising dinner yet. It was a rare occasion that they got to dress up and have fun on the campaign trail - and Taehyung had made the most of it, decking himself out in a brand-new white three-piece suit, slightly reminiscent of The Great Gatsby.

He had been eager to wine and dine with Jeongguk that night, but all he’d done so far was third-wheel Jimin and Yoongi - the latter of which didn’t look too happy about his perpetual presence. It didn’t help that the mint juleps that Jin had catered were so delicious - and Taehyung was on his ninth, and feeling a little more than tipsy.

“Have you tried calling him?” Yoong suggested, swirling his wine around in his glass, before downing what was left of it in one go. “Maybe if you call him, he’ll finally show up, and you’ll have your own boyfriend to bother.”

Jimin glared at Yoongi reproachfully, before turning to Taehyung again.

“Yeah, Taetae, give him a ring - check where he’s at.”

Taehyung groaned, and fished his phone out of his pocket, dialling Jeongguk’s number - only to hear it go to voicemail.

“Hey - Gukkie, you’re taking your time, aren’t you? I’m here - well, I’ve been here a long time.  Come find me. Miss you -”

“Hey!”

He had just finished recording his message, when his arm collided with a warm, solid surface. Jeongguk smiled down at him - his bowtie slightly askew, and beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung leapt to his feet, slightly unsteady. “You came! Fucking finally!”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeongguk apologised, pecking Taehyung on the cheek. “Some… coding shit, came up. Jackson. Donkey. Long story.”

“Ugh, at least you’re here now,” Taehyung threw his arms around Jeongguk’s neck. “Now I don’t have to dance alone, anymore.”

Yoongi got to his feet, pulling Jimin along with him, and clapped Jeongguk on the back. “Alright, kid - I’ve done my part and put up with your boyfriend’s drunk ramblings for the night. He’s all yours.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jeongguk shot him a look of appreciation, reaching out to steady Taehyung as the older boy dragged him toward the dance floor, stumbling a little. “And have a good night!”

Jimin waved at them both, before disappearing into the crowd behind Yoongi - and Jeongguk and Taehyung were alone, waltzing slowly to the smooth jazz that echoed throughout the ballroom.

“How many mint juleps did you drink?” Jeongguk asked, pinching Taehyung on the nose. “I can smell it on your breath, Jesus.”

“One for every moment I missed you,” Taehyung replied, leaning his forehead on Jeongguk’s shoulder. “So, like, a million.”

“Goodness,” Jeongguk said. “Do you even know who I am?”

“Yes,” Taehyung looked up at him, his eyes glazed over and his voice slightly slurred, as the last mint julep’s effects seemed to have finally kicked in. “You’re Jeonggukie. My Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk smiled, folding Taehyung into his arms, as they danced. “That’s right,” he murmured, his hands running through Taehyung’s soft hair. “I’m yours. So stupidly, irrevocably, yours.”

Just then, a cameraman appeared out of nowhere, the lens pointed directly at them.

“Picture, Mr Jeon?” the man asked, gesturing at both him and Taehyung.

“Pictures and videos! Let’s get all the pictures and videos!” Taehyung chirped happily, his arms curling around Jeongguk’s waist, his floppy brown hair fanning out on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

Jeongguk shrugged, and smiled for the camera, his hands looping protectively around Taehyung’s waist as the older man stumbled a little.

“Let’s dance for the kind man, Jeonggukie!” Taehyung said, slipping his fingers into the gaps in Jeongguk’s and twirling him around. And for a moment - Jeongguk forgot the camera was there, as he spun around with Taehyung, throwing his head back and laughing as they moved.

“We’ve only got one life to live, Jeonggukie,” Taehyung had whispered in his ear, as a slow dance came on. “And if I only had one dance, I’d dance with you.”

Jeongguk had no idea how they’d managed to drink and dance until the ballroom was almost all but empty. But somehow, it wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Jeongguk found himself heaving a half-asleep Taehyung into the back of his Bentley, and piggy-backing him up to his apartment.

Jeongguk wondered if he was crossing a line when he plopped Taehyung onto the centre of the mattress, but he was too tired to consider the implications of sleeping in the same bed at that point. Jeongguk unbuttoned Taehyung’s shirt, his fingers lingering over his smooth chest and toned abdomen, before slipping his champagne-stained shirt off him.

His throat tightened as he fiddled with Taehyung’s belt, and slipped his slacks off. It seemed a little too intimate and just a tad creepy, touching his boyfriend’s bare legs as he lay unconscious in his bed - so Jeongguk quickly rolled Taehyung up in the fluffy satin duvet, pushing him over onto the other side of his disproportionately large bed.

As Jeongguk undressed and slipped into bed next to Taehyung, a small message box popped up on his screen. Frowning, Jeongguk tapped on it, wondering who was messaging him at three a.m.

Jeongguk felt a silly, lovesick grin spreading across his face, as he watched the video attached to the message. The official photographer had sent him the unprocessed videos, first (such were the perks of being a billionaire, Jeongguk thought). He marvelled at just how gorgeous Taehyung looked, dapper in his white three-piece, a slightly tipsy smile playing on his lips, Taehyung was laughing, and holding Jeongguk close.

He had seen many photos of himself over the years - cold, awkwardly posed pictures for company head shots, or equally uncomfortable official photoshoots. But never had Jeongguk seen himself look that happy - so unguarded, so filled with joy; as he held Taehyung in his arms and spun him round and round; looking at the older man like he was something so infinitely precious.

Jeongguk put his phone down, and cast his gaze across the room, to where his black velvet jacket hung on the wall. He eyed the pocket - where a nondescript black box had sat all night, taunting him, daring him to get down on one knee.

Jeongguk had stood on the front porch of Taehyung’s house, standing next to Taehyung’s father, watching from afar as Taehyung bid a tearful goodbye to his mother.

“You make sure to take good care of my son, Jeongguk,” the older man had said, patting Jeongguk on the back.

“Sir,” Jeongguk had said, his voice shaking, as he addressed Taehyung’s father. “There’s a question I would like to ask you. I would be grateful if you could give me the greatest honour, of marrying your son. I will - do my best. I swear it. To care for him, to love him - the way you have, all these years.”

Taehyung’s father’s eyes had crinkled at the corners, disappearing into crescents the same way his son’s did.

“You have my blessing. Now go - make my boy happy.”

Jeongguk had gazed into Taehyung’s eyes all night, the words burning on the tip of his tongue. But Taehyung had leaned in, and kissed him - and at that moment, all he wanted to do was dance with him, get drunk with him, and savour every touch of his lips.

Beside him, Taehyung stirred, mumbling a little as he moved. Jeongguk had curled up in bed, facing him - but his breath hitched, as Taehyung rolled out of the duvet and cuddled up next to him - his bare skin hot against Jeongguk’s.

“I love you, Jeon Jeongguk,” Taehyung mouthed into his skin, a little muffled. “I love you so, so, so much.”

Jeongguk closed his eyes, and touched his lips to Taehyung’s forehead, murmuring soft I love you’s back into his sleeping boyfriend’s ear. He doubted he could hear him - Taehyung was talking in his sleep, again. 

It doesn’t matter, Jeongguk thought. We have the rest of our lives.

“I want all cameras repo-ed on one,” Jeongguk said, taking care to speak directly into the microphone. “We are live in three minutes. Jimin hyung - make sure we’re actually getting live footage uploaded from every angle - your volunteers on stage left are dropping off the connection. Jin hyung - you guys alright?”

“We’re fine,” Jin’s voice came crackling through the speakers. “Namjoon’s a little nervous, but the atmosphere here seems great. Everyone’s pretty fucking enthusiastic.”

Jeongguk nodded, his eyes flicking to the footage that was being beamed live to his office.

It was three days to election day, and they had drawn even with the Yang campaign in almost all the polls. It was safe to say that Namjoon now stood a good chance of winning - only if they made their last appearances count. Yoongi’s links to some officials had secured them a place right at the gates of Gyeongbokgung - and huge crowd had turned out, stopping traffic all the way down each side of the palace gates.

It was because of how much was at stake, that Jeongguk now paced his office like a caged tiger, his eyes watching the graphs like a hawk. This last speech was vital - to cement the campaign’s platform, and to round off the election season with a bang.

“Alright - we’re live on all the TV stations. Jackson - eyes on the prize, I want us to maximise coverage on all platforms. And three, two - go.”

Jeongguk watched, his heart in his throat, as Namjoon scaled the steps to the stage, a winning smile on his face as he waved confidently to the crowd. To his left, Jin beamed proudly, his fist in his air, chanting the campaign slogan - while Taehyung stood to his left, that broad, innocent grin on his face.

“Welcome, welcome everyone!” Namjoon’s voice boomed across the field. “Thank you for coming out this day - I am so, immensely honoured -” 

Jeongguk’s eyes darted across the screen, observing the crowd briefly, before turning to the matrices. The keywords “Kim Namjoon” and “Election2097” had shot to the top of the list in the last ten seconds.

“Alright, let’s stay on track. Jin hyung, keep him on message - he slowed down here at rehearsal yesterday…”

“Wait, guys,” Hoseok’s voice came crackling over the line. “There’s something wrong - something fucking wrong - Jeongguk, you have oversight - do you see anything in Sector Three?”

Jeongguk’s eyes shot up to the screen. Sector Three - he searched the crowd, and saw nothing but a sea of people.

“No, I see nothing - what is it, Hoseok hyung?”

“Security Team A, we need eyes on a man in all black, wearing a blue facemask.”

“What the fuck,” Jeongguk swore. “What’s this about? We’re in the middle of a motherfucking -”

“Team A coming in,” came the panicked voice of Seunghoon, Jeongguk’s security head. “Suspected armed man, spotted in Sector Three, third row, now second. Team A, moving in now.”

Jeongguk’s leapt to his feet. Sure enough - there he was, a man in a hoodie, moving swiftly forward, pushing his way through the crowd. But the team - the armed guards, they were too far away -

He heard the shot before he saw the gun - an almighty bang, that echoed in his ears. And all he could do was watch, his mouth open in a silent scream - as Taehyung, his Taehyung, leaped forward, and pushed Namjoon aside.

Jeongguk had run, many times in his life, but never like this.

“Jeongguk,” Jimin cried, over the phone, his words intelligible over his sobs. “Jeongguk, it was Taetae, it hit Taetae - Oh my god, Yoongi, there’s so much blood, oh my god -”

Jin had taken the phone from Jimin, his voice steady, but breaking a little as he spoke.

“Jeongguk, we’re heading to the Seoul National University Hospital. Hurry.”

He had flung himself into the back of his car, his heart racing, but his mind a complete blank. The Bentley had sped off - tearing across Dongho Bridge, past all the skyscrapers - but ground to a halt just past the Jongmyo shrine.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk swore, as the traffic display showed that the road was backed up for half a mile. “Motherfucking fuck it.”

And so, Jeongguk had run - faster than he ever had, in all his life. He felt the tears burning in his eyes as he hurtled down Changgyeonggung-ro, but he swallowed his tears, and raced on.

As Jeongguk sprinted into the hospital’s driveway, he spotted the white Mercedes S-Class, finally pulling it’s way out of traffic, and through the gates. Panting, he caught up with the car, and pulled the door open.

He hadn’t braced himself for what lay inside.

The beige seats of the car were dyed crimson - the bright red blood blossoming from Taehyung’s ribcage, and dripping onto the chair.

Jeongguk let out a dry sob, his arms gathering around Taehyung’s bloodied body. Taehyung’s breathing was shallow - his chest shuddering with every breath he took. But even so - he opened his eyes slowly, as Jeongguk wrapped his strong arms around him, carrying him through the hospital doors, the rest of the team following closely behind.

“Doctor!” Jeongguk screamed, hysterical. “Fuck, we need a fucking doctor, he’s been shot -”

“Jeonggukie,” Taehyung gasped, his eyes rolling back into his head. “Jeonggukie, I -”

“Come, please come,” Jeongguk screamed, as alarmed nurses quickly scurried to find a trolley and a surgeon. “He’s bleeding, there’s so much blood, please -”

A group of doctors rushed out toward them, wheeling a bed in between them. Jeongguk dashed over, and placed Taehyung carefully onto the bed, his fingers intertwined tightly with Taehyung’s as they ran through the hospital corridors to the emergency unit.

“Jeonggukie,” Taehyung rasped, his lips grazing Jeongguk’s ear, his throat choked with the blood that flowed from his lips, too.

“Taetae, I’m here, I’m here,” Jeongguk sobbed, as he held Taehyung close. “I love you, I love you, stay with me - I’m here.”

Taehyung’s bloodied lips curved into a smile, as he raised his weak, cold fingers to Jeongguk’s cheek.

“Gukkie - I -”

Taehyung’s eyes fluttered shut, and his hand went limp in Jeongguk’s - the unsaid words dying on his cherry lips.

Jeongguk sat in the waiting room outside the operating theatre, his face stoic as the chaos whirled around him. He had been sitting there for the last hour - one side of his shirt still drenched vermilion; dried blood still on his cheek where Taehyung’s fingers had touched it. Jin had tried to make him get up to go to the men’s room to get cleaned up - but he had shrugged his hand away - his eyes blank and empty.

Taehyung had been inside the operating theatre for hours. The doctors had emerged at the six hour mark, saying that there had been complications, and that they had a long night ahead of them. So they waited - the six of them, solemn and grief-stricken.

Namjoon was in the corner, quiet and still shaking slightly, as Hoseok comforted him, while Jimin leaned against Yoongi, wailing into a handkerchief, the sobs wracking his small body. But Jeongguk remained as expressionless as the day that Jin had first seen him, walking through the Blue House, surrounded by a posse of the President’s men. And it scared him a little, to see Jeongguk that way - shutting down, and retreating from the world.

Jin moved to the other end of the room, and sat down near the window - until he felt someone move into the seat next to him.

“Jin hyung,” Jeongguk said, his voice level and calm. “Can I borrow your work tablet?”

“W-what?” Jin stammered.

“Your work tablet,” Jeongguk held out his hand. “I’ve lost mine, and I need it.”

“J-jeongguk - is this the time to be working?”

“Please,” Jeongguk’s hand stayed, unwavering, stretched out in the space between them.

Jin reached into his coat, and pulled out his tablet.

Jeongguk logged in swiftly with his ID, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he established a video link with Jackson.

“Hey man, sorry… How’s it going there, is he alright?” Jackson’s worried face appeared on the screen.

“Jackson - I need 360 degree footage of the shooting,” Jeongguk cut in. “Send it to me in ten minutes.”

Jeongguk ended the call, before pulling up a new message window, typing furiously.

Jin looked at Jeongguk concernedly. “Guk - if you’re thinking of investigating, I’ve been in touch with the police. They’ve arrested the bastard, and the interrogation’s underway -”

“I’m no Sherlock fucking Holmes,” Jeongguk snarled. “Get out of my fucking face and let me do my job.”

“Jeongguk -”

Jeongguk sent the message, and slammed the tablet shut - throwing it back at Jin.

“Thank you. Turn the television on in five,” he said, making his way toward the door. “You’ll see.”

“Stop, Jeongguk,” Namjoon launched out of his seat, slamming the door shut just as Jeongguk was opening it. “What did you do?”

“The one thing I do best,” Jeongguk said, his face devoid of colour. “Winning.”

Jeongguk made his way down the hospital’s front steps, stopping just before the scrum of reporters that had gathered at the doors. He was well aware of how he looked - the smell of Taehyung’s blood still fresh in his mind.

“Thank you all for coming here today,” Jeongguk said calmly, bowing deeply. “My name is Jeon Jeongguk, chief media strategist for Governor Kim’s campaign. On behalf of my candidate, Kim Namjoon, I would like to express my deep gratitude for the public’s concern.”

“I would like to reassure the public that my candidate was shaken by today’s events - but, thankfully, unharmed. But today’s events have lit a fire in his heart, to win this election - because of one person.”

“Kim Taehyung - a young staffer on this campaign, was shot today at 1.30pm, outside Gyeongbokgung Palace. Kim Taehyung was the most intelligent, kind-hearted and hopeful person I have ever had the honour of meeting.”

“He was also the love of my life.”

Jeongguk took a deep breath, steadying his voice.

“And now, I stand here before all of you - covered in the blood of the one person I loved most in this world. Because I want you all to see it. See him.”

“So this is my message tonight - to you, who did this to him. That you may make us cry, and bleed. But we will not surrender. We will rise up, again, and again. You will not kill our hopes.”

Jeongguk raised his chin as the cameras flashed, his dark eyes steely and resolute.

“We will stand here, together, hand in hand, against the darkness - and you will not silence us. Because together - we are bulletproof.”

Jeongguk bowed, once more, and turned on his heel, heading back into the hospital doors. The security barricade prevented the clamouring journalist’s from moving any further, and Jeongguk had never been more thankful for a reprieve from the lights.

Once out of view of the press, Jeongguk broke into a run, covering his mouth with his hands. He ran blindly until he came to the nearest men’s room - before pushing the door open, and throwing up violently into the sink.

As Jeongguk sank to the floor, the smell of vomit on his lips, and the stench of blood still pungent in his nostrils, an inhuman wail crawled up from inside his lungs. And it was there that they found him, unconscious and lying prone on the hard tiled floor; the tears from his eyes mixing with the blood on his clothes, crying Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Seoul had gone absolutely insane.

A report had come out, in the early hours of the morning, stating that the gun used in the shooting could be traced back to the military - particularly, the President’s secret service. An uproar had rippled across the city, with protestors pouring into the streets.

Meanwhile, Jackson worked tirelessly at election headquarters, ensuring that as many people as possible viewed a choice fifteen second clip - with images of the shooting spliced with Jeongguk’s statement outside the hospital. And the netizens had gone crazy - calling for the execution of the assailant, and demanding the President’s immediate resignation. Overnight, conspiracy theories had begun to spread online, with some (quite rightly) speculating that the President had attempted to assassinate his young political opponent, just to hold on to power.

In response, a reluctant Namjoon had recorded a pre-written speech in the hospital, which was promptly broadcasted over video link across the entirety of Korea.

“Vote today,” Namjoon had said, his voice deep and steady. “and I will give this country a clean government. Vote for me - and make Kim Taehyung’s sacrifice worth it. Vote for me - and I will make this nation stronger, better, bulletproof.”

It was, finally, election day.

Taehyung’s parents had been flown in from Daegu, too - and throughout all hours of the day, his friends and family stayed close by his side. Jin, Namjoon and Hoseok flitted in and out of the ward in between his campaign appearances, while Yoongi stood reassuringly behind Jimin as the man tried to talk to Taehyung, chatting to him about their life in Harvard, and all the fun things they’d do - as though Taehyung was seated in front of him, laughing at his jokes.

But throughout all the chaos and activity - Jeongguk had barely left Taehyung’s side. He had stayed up throughout the night, his fingers laced tightly in between Taehyung’s, staring fixedly at his boyfriend’s face.

The television screens had flickered to life at midnight, after all the votes had been tabulated. For the first time in hours, Jeongguk tore his eyes away from Taehyung’s face, to look at the screen.

“Greetings, people of Korea,” the announcer was saying. “The votes have been tabulated, in all districts; and the results have revealed a landslide victory -”

Jeongguk held his breath.