Chapter Text
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Changmin comes back to South Korea from his self-imposed exile upon the news of his father’s death to find that there’s an extra stipulation in the old man’s will. And that is for him to be married to be able to inherit the company. He thinks it’s a joke at first, a tasteless one given that they just came back from the cemetery, but the look on the lawyer’s face is about as grim as it can be. Apparently his mother is well aware of this, as she sat him down and told him that she had already chosen someone (from a catalogue or whatever, he doesn’t know): a nice, respectable girl from another super wealthy family who would fit perfectly into the role required.
Even though she knows very well that Changmin is about as straight as boiled noodle.
And that had been the main reason he was living abroad all these years. His father, when he was alive, didn’t make his aversion to Changmin’s preferred lifestyle a secret. And even in death, he’s somehow managed to get his own way. Furious at this turn of event (and knowing he’ll have to comply because no way in hell is he losing the company), he goes out and gets shitfaced drunk. Only to wake up in someone else’s bed, with his arm around that someone else. And as far as he can tell, they’re both naked. And warm. He looks at the other occupant of the bed, who is a stranger (and a very pretty one at that, good job drunk Changmin), and isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do now.
Changmin slowly extricates himself from the other man, careful not to wake him up as he climbs out and onto his feet. He sways for a bit, hungover as fuck, and goes to where his pants are in a haphazard pile on the floor. He can’t find his underwear so he tucks himself in, being extra careful when he’s zipping up so as to not end up with grievous injury in a stranger’s bedroom. Which is quite a mess, now that he has a better look – there’s an untidy heap of books on the table, surrounded by frames of different sizes. Family photos. Papers covered in sketches and diagrams. Odd-looking doodles of animals-shaped… things. Changmin spots his shirt thrown over the chair and grimaces when he sees that he’s missing a few buttons. Must’ve been very enthusiastic last night. Or impatient. Would’ve been good if he can remember actually having sex.
His eyes flicker to the bed, wondering if he should at least say goodbye. But then again, he’s going to be late for a meeting with his lawyer and he isn’t in the mood to go through the awkward morning after ‘thanks for the sex I don’t remember’ talk. Feeling justified, Changmin shuffles to where his shoes are neatly tucked under the table and would’ve made a smooth escape if not for the skateboard his hungover ass fails to notice. So of course he ends up with a foot on the goddamned thing, loses his balance and lands with an undignified yelp on the floor. Waking up the very person he’s trying to avoid.
“Wha— What are you doing?”
Cursing inside his head in all five languages he knows, Changmin straightens and turns towards the bed. Only to find that the guy is even more devastatingly pretty awake: soft red mouth slightly parted, dark eyes creased with confusion and sleepiness, the whole rumpled look. All that naked skin isn’t helping either. Drunk Changmin had really scored last night, lucky bastard. He clears his throat, trying not to look like he’d wanted to dine and dash.
“Last night was great—” Not that he remembers, but Changmin is very adept at improvising, “—but I’m late for a meeting and I didn’t want to wake you, so..."
He trails off, hoping the guy get the hint. He expects to come out of this with minimal damage. It’s a one-night stand; everyone does one-night stands. No big deal. Even if the guy is pretty enough to warrant a second-night stand. A few-night stands. Maybe more. What he doesn’t expect is for the guy to take one look at the clock, makes a startled noise, and starts scrambling out of bed.
Apparently, it’s a morning of many surprises because once the other guy has shoved himself into actual clothes (Changmin immensely enjoys the brief glimpse of his very nice ass, thanks), he walks up to Changmin and goes, “Where’s your meeting?”
Unsure as to where this is heading, Changmin says, “Uh. Downtown?”
To which the guy flashes him a large grin, grabs what looks like Changmin’s car keys from the messy table, and holds them out to him. Changmin doesn’t even remember driving the night before. “Can you drop me off?”
Changmin's first instinct is to refuse, because he's no fucking chauffeur. But then again, it's the least he can do after a night of banging and the guy's generous hospitality. Grabbing the keys, he gestures for him to take the lead. They come out of an apartment complex, an older building that has seen better days, and cross the street to where Changmin's car is parked. Considering the neighbourhood, he's just glad it looks undamaged. He's more clear-headed once he’s behind the wheel, the car purring to life around them. The other man slips into the passenger's seat and starts fiddling with the radio. Like they're not practically strangers. It annoys Changmin a little. Deciding that it's better to just be rid of him as quickly as possible, he gets to driving.
And then realises he doesn't even know the guy's name.
Which, even to his standards, is pretty shitty.
He flicks the indicator, taking a sharp turn. The traffic's getting bad and he's going to be late; he can already see his lawyer's disapproving face looming over him. Changmin glances to the side, taking in the stranger's profile.
"Where am I dropping you off?"
That gets him a wide-eyed look. "What?"
Changmin sighs. Should've known that the prettier ones are usually about as bright as a blown-off lightbulb. "You—” He pauses. Frowns. "What's your name again?"
There's a disappointed tilt to the guy's mouth, something that almost looks like hurt in his eyes, but it's gone before Changmin can get a better look.
"Yunho." He places a hand on Changmin's thigh. It's so unexpected Changmin nearly runs into the car in front of him. Yunho must've noticed his discomfort because he winces and removes the hand. Changmin's sorry to see it go. "It's just— um, a few blocks down. That way. The dance studio."
Trying to salvage the conversation and to not come across like a massive asshole, Changmin decides to hazard a question as they wait for the light to turn green. He's usually a lot more suave and tactful and an all-around decent guy (don't ask Kyuhyun though), but apparently he'd lost his brain along with a good chunk of his memory because the next thing he knows, he hears himself blurting out, "We had sex, right? Last night?"
If he thinks the resounding silence that greets the question is bad, nothing could've prepared him for the look on Yunho's face. It makes him wish he'd never opened his goddamned mouth. Yunho's eyes are blown wide, lips parted initially with surprise, before they slowly flatten into a thin, thin line. His eyes narrow, anger flecking dark irises. Changmin's prepared to get yelled at, but seconds later, Yunho's expression turns carefully neutral. Glacial.
Which is even more terrifying, somehow.
"You don't remember?" Yunho asks, the quiet of his voice resembling the first five minutes of a horror movie. And that there's an axe murderer lurking in there somewhere, just waiting to strike.
Changmin swallows thickly.
Changmin's first instinct is to deny everything. And then shift the blame to Yunho because who the fuck brought home someone who's blackout drunk anyway? He does well enough to convince himself he isn't in the wrong that he's able to meet Yunho's eyes and shrugs. The car behind them honks and Changmin merges into traffic slowly, easing his car around a truck.
"Of course not. I was pissed drunk." And just to make his case stronger, he decides to add, "Couldn't be that good if I can't remember shit."
The silence gets even louder. And more hostile. There's a twitch to Yunho's jaw that looks dangerous and Changmin's worried he's about to start swinging. He'd rather not show up at his appointment missing a tooth or something.
Yunho straightens into a razorsharp line, fingers curling into the bag on his lap.
"Here."
Changmin blinks. "What?"
Yunho's clenching his jaw so hard the words come out half-chewed. "I'm getting out here. Right. Now."
"Dude. We're in the middle of traffic." Changmin gestures around them to punctuate the point. They're still moving, albeit slower than he'd like. "You sure?"
The nod is sharp, an impatient jerk of Yunho's head. "Yes. Let me out now."
Changmin heaves a sigh, valiantly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. So okay maybe he'd offended Yunho's delicate sensibilities or something, but that's no reason to throw a snit fit. Especially when Yunho would be putting his safety at risk by walking through traffic. And Changmin's not gonna have that on his conscience.
"We're five minutes away," he says, glancing at the other man. Who's glaring out of the window with enough force to melt steel beams. Changmin very surreptitiously looks away. "It's the least I can do."
There's a few seconds of silence, the air between them crackling with unease. Changmin opens his mouth to— he's not sure, apologise maybe, but he cuts himself off when he sees Yunho moving towards the door.
Trying to open it. When the car's still moving.
Changmin grabs Yunho's arm, somehow still keeping his eyes on the road.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"Getting out," comes the curt reply. At this point, it would've been easier to just let the other man do whatever the hell he pleases, consequences be damned, but Changmin surprises himself when he tightens his grip as Yunho tries to pull away. "Let me go."
It's like trying to reason with a brick wall.
The car inches forward and Changmin keeps his foot on the break, just in case the lunatic next to him breaks free and decides to make a run for it. He breathes in deeply, stifling the urge to make a frustrated noise. It would probably set Yunho off even more and Changmin doesn't have the energy to continue this argument.
"Look." He eases his grip, keeping his voice level. Placatory. "I'm sorry, alright?"
Yunho eyes him quietly, shows nothing on his face, and it's more than slightly unnerving. Changmin sighs. "It's just been a really shitty week and I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He offers the other man a small, apologetic smile. "Peace?"
It shouldn't matter too much, not when Yunho is going to be relegated to the Past Tense once he’s out of the car and they probably wouldn't see each other again. It’s a shame, really, because Changmin wouldn't mind having another go – Yunho really is beautiful, even pissed off and all. He exhales in relief when Yunho looks away, seemingly mollified by the apology. At least he isn't trying to jump out of the car again. Belatedly, Changmin realises he's still holding onto Yunho's arm and he snatches his hand back, less than subtle about it. Yunho keeps his eyes trained ahead, although Changmin doesn't miss the slight quirk of his lips.
They soon arrive at the building Yunho had pointed out. Up close, Changmin sees that a dance studio takes up the entire second floor. It's a pretty nice place, very modern. And before he can get a word in, Yunho nods at him, says ‘thanks’ and gets out of the car post-haste. He's already at the entrance before Changmin even has the chance to blink.
Okay. Wow. Uncalled for.
But he's also running behind schedule so he just gets back into traffic and is only half an hour late to his lawyer's office. There's a bit of yelling going on, him trying to weasel his way out of his father's will's ridiculous demand, and his lawyer reminding him that there's no weaselling out of this particular shithole, not this time. All in all, it’s been a very frustrating day and Changmin needs a drink. Or ten.
"It's just marriage," Siwon grumbles, straightening his papers. "Essentially, it's a business transaction. I'm sure you can find a willing party to accommodate your needs."
"Yeah, no." Changmin runs a hand through his hair, sprawled over Siwon's very expensive couch. He's pretty sure he paid for it: Siwon's rate is exorbitant. "Dearest mother wants me to marry one of those girls from her society and my dick's already sad just thinking about it."
Siwon pauses. He purses his lips, eyes glued on the papers spread over the table. Slowly, he sifts through them. Twice. And then, once the quiet gets stretched too thin, he looks up at Changmin.
And says, "Nothing in your father's will states that you have to marry a girl."
Changmin squints. And then frowns. Is he still drunk because what the hell is Siwon talking about.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You don't have to marry a girl to inherit the company." Uncertainty flashes across Siwon's face, alongside regret because now Changmin's paying proper attention. "Although that would be what the board directors expect and I think it's prudent to take them into account, since—”
Changmin isn't listening anymore.
He'd stopped listening at the end of the first sentence, his mind going 200kmph at the implication of Siwon's revelation. All those nights agonising over his future nuptial, all the unhappiness and nuisance entailed, and the solution is right underneath their noses all along.
"Fuck the board," Changmin says, with extra feelings. Those old codgers had given him hell when they called him into a meeting to discuss the company's future. He rises from the couch and starts pacing, "You're right. Marriage is just… business. And, well—”
He stops pacing, turns fully to face Siwon. Who looks like he's regretting what he'd told Changmin.
“—Business partnerships get dissolved all the time, right?"
Siwon frowns. "You're talking about divorce."
"Exactly. People get divorced all the time," Changmin shrugs. He's not sure how he's going to pull this off, but it's infinitely better than the alternative. Plus, he can piss off the remnant of his father's stodgy old guard at the same time.
"Chwang, you're not thinking this through." Siwon's voice is hard, his expression harder. He's using his lawyer voice now and it reminds Changmin how much he hates it. "The passing of the legislation for same-sex marriage is a sore topic foe a lot of people. In case you've forgotten, this is not LA." Siwon shakes his head. "There's no reason for you to dig yourself into an early grave. My advice? Just go with your mother's choice. And then get a quickie divorce once the handover's completed, if that's really what you think best."
Changmin grounds his teeth, feeling the onset of another headache as he considers Siwon's advice. Would’ve been easier if Siwon is a shit lawyer (but he isn’t) and he’s also a better friend. They part ways after lunch (Siwon billed that too, the asshole) and Changmin slides into the driver's seat of his car feeling like he'd made little headway of his problem. He sits there, staring out of the windscreen and at nothing in particular for almost fifteen depressing minutes. Deciding to wallow in misery at home, accompanied by his emotional support alcohol, he starts the car. That's when he notices the mobile phone lodged into the side of the passenger seat. It's not his, sitting safely in his pocket, and he frowns at the wallpaper of the phone once he unlocks it.
There are several missed calls from ‘BOA’ (the capitalisation makes the name unnecessarily intimidating and Changmin isn’t about that life). There are also other numbers, squeezed between messages on at least three different social applications. Changmin doesn't open them because he's not a total creep, but he can pretty much guess the owner of this mysterious phone. He stares at it, wondering if it’ll be easier to just give the phone to a security guard. It’s not like he has nothing better to do. However, his oft-forgotten conscience rears its ugly head to remind him that it’s good to do good once in a while. Clean his soul for heaven or something to that effect. He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat and cruises out of the underground parking level.
Finding his way back to the studio is a piece of cake. His initial plan is to drop the phone off to the receptionist (or whoever's closest to the door) and haul ass before Yunho sees him. But once he gets there, the overenthusiastic bespectacled kid he finds manning the reception mistakes him for a potential customer (the kid really should check his eyesight again) and ushers him to a larger space at the back that apparently serves as their main floor. The music reverberating around them is upbeat and catchy, and Changmin walks in just in time to catch Yunho moving lightly in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror stretched over one side of the wall. Yunho is alone, possibly just done with a class since there a slight sheen of sweat on his skin, and he seems to be so immersed that he doesn't notice Changmin's presence.
That's how Changmin ends up an accidental voyeur, watching with a kind of bewildered amazement (that's borderline disturbing) as Yunho loses himself in the thumping beats. He moves like silk and steel, alternating sharpness with fluidity in a seamless display. Each movement serves a purpose, deliberate. And beautiful. Changmin doesn't notice how long he's been standing there until the music peters off and Yunho's looking at him in the mirror. He's breathing hard, soaked shirt's sticking to his chest, the defined curves of his pectorals. His face is flushed, colours high on his cheeks and he's still staring at Changmin.
Changmin, moving as if in as daydream, cuts through the distance between them in a few long strides, and holds out Yunho's phone towards him. He hears himself say,
"Will you marry me?"
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tbc
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