Chapter Text
*
Seungcheol passes out sometime between 11 PM and 1 AM.
**
At 4 AM, according to a bleary-eye glance at his phone, he wakes up. His brain feels like a bruised peach and the blood in his veins is lava.
He finally falls back into a fitful sleep around 7:30 AM - an estimation based on the weak rays of light seeping between his blinds.
***Tuesday***
If he dreamed, he has no memory of it upon being coldly and wetly wrenched from his slumber.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Seungkwan says over the hacking coughs of Seungcheol expelling water from his lungs. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“You - ” Seungcheol gasps. He grabs his phone off his nightstand which had been charging next to a glass of water that his sleepy-self had put there, knowing his hungover-self would love him for it.
The now empty glass of water. The contents of which had been poured over his defenseless face.
“It’s 10:18 in the morning.” Seungkwan answers his own question. “On a Tuesday.”
“Give me a break. I was working all night,” Seungcheol says as he shakes water out of his hair.
Seungkwan scoffs and pulls out his phone. He holds the screen toward Seungcheol.
He recognizes his own slurry voice emanating from the tiny but powerful speaker. “Seungkwaaaan. I had two bottles of Jinro in the fridge but now they’re gone. I think someone stole them. When you get in tomorrow, review the security footage and see if you can identify the thieves.”
“I don’t need to be a private investigator to figure out where the missing soju has gone,” says Seungkwan, mercifully putting his phone away. "Also, we don't have security cameras."
Seungcheol groans. “You didn’t have to waterboard me.”
“You’re right but I wanted to.” Seungkwan looks like he wants to say something else (probably nag him some more) but turns to business instead. “You have a walk-in consultation in the waiting room. I’ll stall until you're ready.”
“Thank you. You’re the best,” Seungcheol says to Seungkwan’s retreating back.
He gives himself a few minutes to gather the strength to climb out of bed before padding over to his tiny bathroom. He checks his reflection in the smudgy mirror and isn’t very pleased with what he sees.
He looks fucking terrible. Has he always looked like this, he wonders before deciding he doesn’t really want to know.
He forgoes a shower (that little stunt of Seungkwan’s counts as one, right?) and splashes cold water on his face to decrease some of the morning puffiness. While brushing his teeth, he pulls out a single bristle lodged between his incisor and canine. He really needs to get a new toothbrush.
From muscle memory, he grabs the ibuprofen bottle on the counter, pours a few pills into his open palm and throws them into his mouth. He takes a swig of water and swallows the pills, minty foam and all.
Back in the bedroom, he changes out of his dirty shirt into a less dirty one. His pants are probably fine.
One of the perks of living in a room at his place of business is the short commute. The disadvantage is that his colleague knows where to find him if he drinks himself to sleep the night before, and has no regard for boundaries or his personal life.
Although...
Who am I kidding, Seungcheol thinks as he steps over the threshold between bedroom and office. He hasn’t had a personal life for months - loyalty and grief won’t allow it.
He still isn’t used to sitting behind the desk - his desk. But Seungkwan has insisted that standing against the wall while taking down information about a missing rebellious teenager or potentially cheating spouse or suspicious employee behavior is not reassuring and doesn’t convey ‘Please give me your money because I am a competent private investigator.’
No, it screams ‘I’ve only just graduated from my apprenticeship and am flying by the seat of my grubby pants’ which is honestly more true than the former.
But Seungcheol has bills and an employee to pay so he sits behind Investigator Min’s desk - his desk - and waits.
Beyond the front door of the office, where Seungkwan greets clients and takes phone calls, he hears chatter and laughter. He texts Seungkwan that he is ready and pretends to look over some papers.
After a couple minutes, Seungcheol is still alone in the office, performing for absolutely no one. The voices behind the door grow livelier. He’s about to send Seungkwan another text, strongly worded this time with lots of frowning emojis, when there’s a knock on his door.
“Come in.”
Seungkwan enters with two young men, both of them holding steaming cups of instant coffee. “This is Kwon Soonyoung and this is Lee Seokmin.”
Seungcheol stands up and introduces himself, shaking each of their hands, repeating their names in his head to keep them straight. “Please, have a seat.” He nods at Seungkwan who closes the door softly behind him as he exits. “How can I help you?”
Neither Soonyoung nor Seokmin answer right away. Instead, they exchange expressive glances back and forth, having some kind of telepathic conversation that Seuncheol can’t even begin to decipher.
Soonyoung raises his eyebrows and lifts the left corner of his mouth in a tense grimace.
In response, Seokmin squints one eye and pouts.
Soonyoung relaxes his brows and cuts a quick glance at the door.
Seokmin tilts his head, gaze toward the ceiling, his lips turned down at the corners.
Soonyoung widens his eyes and twitches his nose.
Seungcheol grows dizzy from following this non-verbal tennis match and blinks hard to re-orient himself.
Finally, Seokmin speaks up. “Our friend is missing. We haven’t heard from him since Friday night.”
“Okay,” Seungcheol says slowly. “Have you gone to the police?”
“Yes, we filed a report but they don’t seem to be concerned.”
There are a number of possible legitimate reasons for that but he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions without at least hearing them out. “Tell me a little about your friend and why you’re particularly concerned you haven’t heard from him.”
Soonyoung starts, “his name is Yoon Jeonghan.”
“He’s 28 years old,” Seokmin picks up. "Internationally, he's 27."
“Right. Jeonghanie-hyung hasn’t read any of our text messages since Friday night which is strange.”
“Hyung is the kind of person who always responds, even if it’s just a ‘kk’ or with a completely irrelevant meme.”
“He loves memes even though he doesn’t really get them. When we saw that he still hadn’t read our messages on Sunday, we got worried and called but his phone was off. So we went over to his place.”
“Either he wasn’t home or he lost his hearing because there was no way he could have ignored his doorbell once I was finished with it. On Monday, we tried calling again but his phone was still off. We called his office which we’re only supposed to do in an absolute emergency but he hadn’t shown up which is not like him at all.”
“That’s when we decided to go to the police.”
“But like I said earlier, they didn’t seem to take hyung’s disappearance seriously.”
“We called his office again today but they said he didn’t come in and wouldn’t tell us anything else.”
“So now we’re here.”
Soonyoung and Seokmin stare at Seungcheol expectantly, as if he could take their friend’s name, age, misunderstanding of memes, and use that to triangulate his location.
“Had he been acting strange before last Friday?” Seungcheol asks for a lack of anything else to say.
“Hmmm, not really. Oh!” Soonyoung claps his hands. “Actually there is something. Hyung started going to church five or six months ago.”
“Oh!” Seokmin’s eyes widen. “Yes, that is strange.”
“Why is that strange?” Seungcheol himself doesn’t attend church but knows plenty of people who do.
“Well because,” Soonyoung says as if it’s obvious. “Hyung is a good person but he’s not exactly the church going type. He’s something of a heathen.”
“It’s why we get along with him so well,” Seokmin adds.
Seungcheol looks at their sunny faces and can’t quite make the connection to heathenism but appearances can be deceiving. He folds his hands on the desk and says as delicately as he can, “it’s only been a day since you’ve reported him to the police. Maybe you want to wait a few more before paying a private investigator - ”
Seokmin pulls an envelope out of his pocket, making an excessive amount of noise in the process. “This is all we could scrape together on such short notice. It’s 230,000 won which we know is not much but we’ll take whatever bit of information that will afford,” he says hastily.
“If you find him and it turns out that he just wants to be left alone, that’s fine. We just want to know he’s okay,” says Soonyoung. He bites down on his lower lip in a futile attempt to hide the way it trembles.
Damn Seungcheol’s bleeding heart.
Damn the hangover he can feel coming despite the painkillers he took earlier.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Seungcheol says, hoping to end the consultation before his headache hits him with its full force. “Do you have a picture?”
“Yes, let me see if I can find an appropriate one!” Soonyoung eagerly takes out his phone.
A strange look passes across Seokmin’s face. “Hyung, what if it has something to do with work?” he postulates to Soonyoung who is furiously swiping through his phone. "Remember when we were at his apartment a few months ago?”
Seungcheol’s ears perk. “What happened at his apartment a few months ago?”
“He had left a bunch of papers on his kitchen table - when he knew we were coming over - and then yelled at us when we looked at them. They were spreadsheets with a bunch of numbers so it’s not like we understood what they meant.”
“Yeah, hyung totally overreacted,” says Soonyoung. “Okay, here is a picture where you can see his face.” He hands his phone to Seungcheol.
He doesn’t know what to expect when he looks at the screen but it isn’t a profound sense that the cosmos is fucking with him. Like the universe has decided to pluck him, specifically Choi Seuncheol of Daegu, South Korea, from reality and drop him into a parallel universe to see how he would react.
Because Seungcheol knows him. He knows Yoon Jeonghan.
Well, sort of.
“This is your missing friend?” Seungcheol finally asks after way too much silence.
“Yeah, handsome devil, isn’t he?” Soonyoung says proudly.
It doesn’t occur to Seungcheol until that moment that he could probably find a way to backtrack and not take their case. Tell Soonyoung and Seokmin sorry but you’ll have to find someone else who is willing to start a missing persons investigation for almost free or wait for the police to finally start caring. Soonyoung will probably actually cry and damn it, Seungcheol’s bleeding heart!
“Email Seungkwan this picture before you leave please,” he says, handing Soonyoung’s phone back to him. He flips to a fresh page in his notebook and picks up his pen. “Tell me everything you know about Yoon Jeonghan.”
***Gwangju***
Seungcheol climbs the stairs to the billiards hall with a strange fluttering in his stomach - hopefully nerves and not the bus station hot dog he ate earlier. He supposes he’ll find out soon enough and concentrates on spotting a gray sweater and a black hat. A gray sweater and a black hat - that’s how Seungcheol will know it’s him.
He has seen at least three guys matching that very vague description between the bar where he had been pounding beers and his current location. But none of them had even glanced at his yellow and navy sweatshirt so he figures they aren’t username 1004.
He stands outside the frosted door of the hall and from the other side, he can hear the gruff voices of men and the clack of billiards bouncing off each other.
What the fuck am I doing?
He needs to leave. Delete the app from his phone, go to any of the bars in the area, find a woman willing to leave with him, indulge in an enjoyable but ultimately forgettable distraction. There’s still -
“Hey.”
Seungcheol spins around, nearly losing his balance, and grabs at the wall to stop from falling on his ass.
On the landing half of a floor below is a young man in a gray sweatshirt and black baseball cap. The fluttering intensifies and Seungcheol thinks he might float away from the force of it.
There is no way he’s here for Seungcheol. The stranger is beautiful beyond his wildest expectations and the universe isn’t normally so kind to him. No, usually it likes to really fuck him over but maybe the powers that be are taking pity on his pathetic self.
Nonetheless, the universe can only do so much to play matchmaker and the longer Seungcheol stands there with his mouth agog, the more uncomfortable the stranger seems to become and he slowly turns to leave. If Seungcheol doesn’t act now, it will never happen and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the courage to try again. He takes a deep breath. “Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?”
***Tuesday***
Kwon Soonyoung and Lee Seokmin do not know where Jeonghan is originally from, only that he is estranged from his family. After graduating from university, he lived with Soonyoung and Seokmin until a year ago when he got his own place. They see each other about once a month but text nearly everyday.
They have his direct number at work but don’t know exactly what he does, just that his eyes are going bad from staring at a screen all day and ties are mandatory.
They had mentioned his sudden interest in church but have never attended any of the functions with him because, quote, it seemed lame as fuck, unquote.
What they do know: Yoon Jeonghan is very good at skiing, his favorite Disney movie is Moana, he likes mixing soju and beer, the longest he’s ever karaoked is 6 hours straight, his favorite gif is the one of the cat wiggling its butt, and he’s surprisingly tightlipped about his love life.
His highs are Mt. Everest and lows are the Marianas Trench. He is stubborn almost to a fault but kind and caring in his own way.
They know all the important things.
Seungcheol is really going to earn that 230,000 won.
“Found Yoon Jeonghan’s LinkedIn page,” Seungkwan informs him from the doorway between the office and the waiting area. “It says he’s an accountant for some big firm in Yongsan called PLDS. He started there a few years ago. I’ll text you the address.”
“You’re the best,” says Seungcheol, patting his pocket for his wallet. “Could you put together a package addressed to Yoon Jeonghan at the firm? I’ll be making a delivery this afternoon.”
“Why not just call the firm and save yourself the trouble?”
“Soonyoung and Seokmin already tried but couldn't get any answers. I think I’ll have better luck if I go there in person and use my natural charm.”
Seungkwan’s eyes narrow into a squint. “Your what?”
Seungcheol ignores him, lifting up stacks of file folders.
“What are you looking for?” Seungkwan asks.
“My wallet.” Seungcheol pats his pockets again just in case it magically appeared. “I’m meeting up with Mingyu for lunch. I’m hoping to take the case off the polices’ hands.”
“So you did have a plan after all.” Seungkwan sounds relieved. “I was worried when you agreed to a 230,000 won retainer for a missing person’s case.”
“Of course I have a plan.” Seungcheol doesn’t feel the need to mention that he hadn’t thought of the plan until 30 minutes ago.
“Well, it’s in your room by your bed. I saw it there this morning.”
“Seriously, you are a lifesaver!” Seungcheol retrieves his wallet from its hiding spot. “I should be back in an hour.”
He gets to the restaurant right before a line begins to form, snagging a table near the back. 20 minutes later he’s still waiting and nervously eyeing the cluster of customers at the door. Luckily the auntie who owns the restaurant likes him (he had helped track down a rogue employee who had been skimming from the register) so she tells him not to worry.
It’s another 15 minutes before a pile of long limbs and apologetic puppy eyes plops into the seat across from him.
“Sorry hyung,” says Mingyu. “I had some trouble getting away from work. We’ve been swamped lately.”
“Well.” It’s the perfect opening. “Then you’ll be glad to hear that I am not that busy and my services are available.”
Mingyu grins. “Yeah, for a price. I should have known.”
Seungcheol flags down the server and orders two soondae stews. “It’s not just that. I wanted to see you as well. I haven’t seen you since you made Sergeant. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks,” says Mingyu, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “How are things at the agency with you and Seungkwan?”
“Good.” It isn’t a lie but strangely feels like one. “I’m working on tracking down a missing person, Yoon Jeonghan. His friends said they reported him missing to your station yesterday.”
Mingyu hums. “Name doesn’t ring any bells but I can check with Missing Persons and see if they'll consider outsourcing it to you.”
The soondae stews arrive - the beauty of a limited menu is exceptionally fast service. They eat without speaking and fight over the last piece of kimchi until the server brings them more.
Seungcheol waits until their spoons are scraping the bottom of their bowls to ask, “any news on the other case?”
“Oh.” Mingyu sets down his spoon and wipes at the corner of his lips. He says, “no. There was follow up on a few leads but they were dead ends. No witnesses have come forward so...”
What he doesn’t say: a lot of people may have wanted your boss dead but it might be time you accept this was a mugging gone wrong - a random and pointless death.
Seungcheol tamps down the anger he feels swirling just beneath the surface, the urge to say he hopes the police will be just as blase if they find his body in a dark alley. He needs Mingyu’s help, now and in the future. Besides, it isn’t his fault.
“Well, if you do discover anything new, you know where to find me.” Seungcheol sets down enough cash for both of their meals and stands, pushing back his chair a tad aggressively.
Mingyu winces at the sound. “Sure thing, hyung,” he says in a tiny voice, avoiding eye contact.
Damn it, he made Mingyu feel bad. He holds out his hand. “Sergeant.”
Mingyu eagerly scrambles to his feet and shakes it with vigor. “Hyung!”
‘Look at us,’ Seungcheol thinks as Mingyu nearly rips his arm out of its socket. ‘Who could have predicted this?’
***Gwangju***
Seungcheol is not a sore loser. Usually. He’s not afraid to admit he used to lose at this game often.
Granted, it was mostly against Wonwoo who is actually decent at four-ball billiards so he didn't mind as much then. But even Seungcheol can tell that 1004 is bad at four-ball billiards.
So how, he thinks as he pulls out his credit card to pay for their time on the table because that had been the wager, did he end up losing?
1004 must have cheated. He’d been the one keeping score, after all. That cheating cheater with his stupid sparkly eyes and annoying sexy smirk. Seungcheol is still fuming when he shoves his credit card back into his wallet.
He feels a light touch on his forearm and every bit of irritation melts away when he looks up and sees 1004 smiling hesitantly at him.
“Do you want to get a drink?” he asks.
Seungcheol nods before his pride can turn down the offer.
He follows 1004 out of the billiards hall, down the stairs, into the street. They walk side by side but not so close that they are touching. The man leads him up three flights of stairs, into a bar for which they are both definitely underdressed.
A young woman with a neon green wolf-cut shows them to a small table and chairs made of cement. “Do you need a few minutes to decide what you’d like?”
“Could I get a glass of Glenfiddich 12 year,” 1004 asks without looking at the menu. “On the rocks, please.”
“I’ll have the same,” Seungcheol says because he doesn’t know anything about nice alcohol.
“What brings you to Gwangju?” 1004 asks after the server walks away with their order.
It’s an innocuous enough question but Seungcheol hesitates. Short answer is that he wanted to go somewhere he’s never been before.
Long answer...he imagines telling 1004, I'm in the middle of an overdue meltdown because I discovered in the worst way possible that my girlfriend of five years had been having a long term affair with an assistant professor. An affair that started during my mandatory military service. I need to get out of my head and maybe gain some perspective. Maybe then I’ll be able to understand why…
“I heard the food here is good,” he finally says.
“Oh yeah?” 1004 rests his chin on a propped hand. “What have you had so far?”
“Well. I ate a hot dog at the Gwangju bus terminal which was fine. And some puffed rice snacks with beers before the billiards hall.”
“Sounds like you’re really sampling the local delicacies.” 1004’s eyes sparkle from the darkness under his cap.
The server brings their drinks and a small ceramic bowl of wasabi peas. Seungcheol eyes the snacks warily and takes a sip of his drink. It’s good, he thinks, although he doesn’t have much of a palate for whiskey.
“So,” says 1004 after a minute of silence. “We’re just going to pretend you didn’t say anything to me when we first met? Does that line actually work on people?”
Seungcheol takes another sip of his drink to cover his embarrassment. He hadn’t really thought out his opening line in advance, figuring he would know what to say in the moment. And no, it usually doesn’t work. “Well, you’re still here so I’m going to count it as a success.”
He flicks his tongue over his bottom lip to lap up a stray drop of whiskey and notices 1004’s gaze follow. And maybe it’s because all he’s had to eat is a hot dog and puffed rice but he thinks he’s feeling the whiskey and it’s dampening effects on his inhibitions.
He puts his elbows on the table and leans forward. 1004 subtly mirrors him, tipping the lid of his cap down. “Where are you staying tonight?”