Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

We were too close to the stars
I never knew somebody like you, somebody
Falling just as hard
I'd rather lose somebody, than use somebody
Maybe it's a blessing in disguise
(I see myself in you)
I see my reflection in your eyes

Hwang Hyunjin was a curious case. 

Seungmin couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about him that seemed so odd—a subtle fraction out of place—but that notion remained firmly rooted in his brain with surprising rigidity. However much he tried, he couldn’t shake it off his mind—in passing him on the street as he sips on his coffee, in meeting him in the pulp fiction aisle in a secluded bookshop he thought no one other than himself ever visited, in the curious glint in his eyes as he talks to him. 

They aren’t friends, by any means. They are acquaintances from being pulled together in the passing days and mundane everyday chores—grocery stores, parking lots, bookstores, gas stations…the list goes on. 

That is what intrigues and simultaneously terrifies him so much. Seungmin is not a creature of regular habits. He bets his life on spontaneity, and he lives by shaking off all fixed outlines that one can have in a day. It’s safer like that. He won’t have to twist his neck over and over as he crosses the road. He won’t have to keep glancing at the face of his watch every time he turns a sharp corner. 

It’s a routine they’ve fallen into—eyes light and surprised as he swipes a finger over the brown spine of a book and greets him with a polite bow. “Hyunjin-ssi,” he’ll say, careful to keep any suspicion out of his voice, “fancy seeing you here.” Hyunjin will bow back as polite as ever, a small smile on his face, hands folded over the hem of his long beige coat. 

They’ll fall back into small talk as easy as pi, sometimes their previous conversations extended, and other times the weather being the initiation which then quickly spirals into long detailed descriptions of the clouds in each other’s hometown. Seungmin won’t say he hates it. He’ll even go as far as to say he likes it; he likes having someone to talk to about nothing, like he’s not a busy man with ten or so baggage weighing down every single island of his brain. 

Kim Seungmin, accountant. The very image of everything a person who intends to live the dullest life possible imagines for himself. Seungmin goes out in the morning for his desk job, goes out for lunch at any place in between 4 miles and the outskirts of the city. Comes back to work. Takes a detour to any other hangout spot. Goes back on the way to home and then—then he slips out of his carefully crafted persona. He lets slip the bumbling accountant persona, the dark circles under his eyes lightening up and his eyes sharpening at the corners. He takes another detour and heads to his actual profession.

Because Seungmin is not your usual accountant—in fact, he’s so far from that it’s genuinely laughable. The workplace he’s been hired to work in has been under suspicion for the past decade or so, and Seungmin has taken it upon himself to get a sniff of the drug ring he suspects is working behind doors. 

So obviously, it’s a large hindrance to have made connections with a stranger that by some play of fate manages to find him around every corner and in every aisle, no matter how much he twists and spins his schedule. He thinks he’s been vague enough. Hyunjin, if he’s watching him, won’t be able to predict what place he’s getting his lunch today—which is quite hard owing to this particular profession he’s pretending to play out. 

He sighs as he spots ebony black hair in the distance—Hyunjin, clad in one of his usual brown trench coats. He has one hand in his coat pocket, the other swinging along slightly. As he nears, he notices the item occupying his hand: a clear flower sleeve with swaying asters in them. 

He bows. “Hyunjin-ssi.” 

Hyunjin has a small smile on his lips. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says, like they don’t meet each other every other day and like Seungmin feels like he’s being haunted by a very beautiful boy with an even prettier smile. He holds out the flowers to him. “Here.” 

Seungmin falters in his step. He looks down to the flowers and then up at Hyunjin to find the curious glint returned—see, that’s the thing. He doesn’t know what it means. He has no idea what Hyunjin wants to know from him, even though he thinks over every single question he asks him. He cross checks his questions at night and calculates whether his own answer gives anything away. He stays up wondering if revealing the brand of sauce he puts in his pasta would potentially put him and his team in danger. 

“Um.” oh god, he’s blushing. He’s never received flowers before. Why’s Hyunjin giving them to him, anyway? “For me?” Hyunjin nods, laughing. “Thank you, um.” 

“Of course.” Hyunjin flashes him a brilliant smile. “They’re your birth flower, right?” 

Seungmin can physically feel the heat in his ears. He tries to duck his head without being too obvious about it, and he tries to play it cool. He likes to think he succeeded, but the only thought running through his head in the measly 15 minute conversation is a rapid ‘oh god he remembers my birthday’ in flashing green marquee. 

His heart slams in his chest as Hyunjin passes him by with a small wave of his hand and his usual ‘well, hope we meet again.’ He watches him walk away, the brown of his coat becoming smaller and smaller till it’s just a tiny spot in the distance. He leans back against the wall, staring up at the deep blue sky for a moment. Then he looks down at the flowers. 

He has no idea what Hyunjin is trying to do, but he fears he’s wrapped around his finger already. And it’s so dangerous for him to be doing this. Minho would drag him through hell and back if he sees him giggling and blushing over a boy he hardly knows, and who might be watching him. Who might as well be one of the people he’s trying to bring down. 

These feelings—he tells himself it’s born out of not having experienced any kind of romantic contact in so many years. Not that he sees Hyunjin in a romantic light, no, but all plausible deniability immediately falters as he feels himself getting lost in the crescents his eyes form whenever he says something. 

Hyunjin’s company is flattering. It’s light, the atmosphere between them easy even though they’ve never addressed the topic of being in each other’s life as strangers. It’s always a thrill for him to expect to run into the other man, always a small game for the both of them—eyes full of mirth as they run into each other yet again. 

He’s searched up on the other man. School teacher for the past five years, small business owner who juggles his art business and working in retail with his actual profession. He’s gone over the file records with a large stone of guilt in his chest, flipping through the pages as he keeps cursing himself for doing this. The records looked genuine enough. Of course, that doesn’t say much, since he knows well enough how well things can be faked. 

And it fits Hyunjin. Sweet, kind Hyunjin who carried a kitten he found to the vet, who listens to Seungmin so patiently and eagerly, who narrates his own stories with endearingly childlike animations. Hyunjin who gives him flowers and goes out of his way to make Seungmin blush and laugh like a teenager, who flirts with him in passing and makes sure to ask if he’s eaten today. 

Hyunjin is an open book, but Seungmin is concretely sure that there lies another book hidden beneath it. He still can’t shake off the moments of odd in their interactions. Just these fleeting moments that pass so fast by that seem to never exist in the first place. The curious glint in his eyes that Seungmin will sometimes catch quickly replaced by a soft smile. 

And shit, he’s let down his guard so much already. For all he knows, Hyunjin could just as well be someone of the opposing party on his trail and there to shake him off their scent. But the more Seungmin thinks about it, the less sense it makes. If Hyunjin wanted him off the ring’s scent, he could’ve done so quite easily. They’ve been alone in the middle of nowhere enough times, and it’d make Hyunjin’s work so much easier if he just dragged him into a corner and pulled out a knife. 

But he doesn’t , and Seungmin keeps bracing himself for the day he does. And each time he thinks of Hyunjin being his potential enemy, a tremor snakes through his heart that forces him to put a stopper in his leaking vial of thoughts. 

Seungmin collapses back into his chair, which immediately sags under him with a loud groan that mirrors his own. He slaps a heap of files onto the table, and stretches out. When he opens his eyes, his hyung is staring at him with annoyed eyes. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and yawns. 

“Stop that.” Minho says. He picks up the file and flips right to the last page. He clicks his tongue in disappointment and Seungmin knows why—they still haven’t got their hands on any new information since the last piece of news that said that the ring has a potential new member. It’s been blank lines for weeks after that, and even though Seungmin overhears pieces of information, they’re often of negligible importance. 

“They’re holding back.” Seungmin says. His eyes remain fixed to the big clock on the wide beam above his head, but he remains unseeing. The office is almost empty with the exception of the other man. It’s seven in the evening and the other guys of his team are still away. He looks at the neat, tidied up desk that belongs to Jisung and sighs, vaguely noting that someone might have cleaned it up after he left. “I’m afraid they’ll become suspicious. I don’t—I don't have previous records under my name, and that’s the first sign your records have been tampered with.” 

“There was the organizer job, though.” Minho points out. He writes down something in the margins of the file, flipping to the first page and starting to read it over again. Seungmin always thinks the other has developed a kind of maddening obsession with shutting down this specific case as soon as possible, but he doesn't have the slightest inkling why. 

Seungmin ignores his reply. “And then Chan got cornered— again . At this rate I'm going to get killed before I even manage to pick up a proper address.” 

“Forget you,” Minho says, after he groans. “I’m worried about Chan. What is he doing to get caught twice?” he glances up at the clock Seungmin had been staring at. The clouds outside have darkened into a deep shade of grey, lightning flashes lighting up behind the stormy clouds every once in a while. Seungmin pushes himself back on his chair and gets up to go stand at the window. “And Jisung too. I’m worried about him.”

“Hey, I'm sure he’ll be fine.” Seungmin quietly reassures. “Hyung, they’re both practically geniuses. You know that. They’ll be fine. Jisung won’t leave you like that.” he closes one half of the glass windows, watching droplets sprinkle on them. He leans against the frame and watches umbrellas bloom a considerable height below him. He catches his hyung’s reflection in the window. 

“Shut up, Kim Seungmin.” Minho says, and he grins at the flush on his cheeks even though he rolls his eyes at him. It takes a lot to fluster him, always so cool and the most level headed of their team. He’d rather eat grass than admit to his respect for him. “Seungmin, wait, come here.” 

Seungmin walks back to his desk. Minho throws the file to him and pulls himself forward by hooking his ankle to the leg of the table. “Isn’t this where Chan was supposed to be looking over on the 20th?” He follows his finger as it lands on a printed address. It has a scribbled 20th next to it. Seungmin frowns and reaches over to the desk that used to be Chan’s. 

He ruffles through the piled files and hurriedly flips through the one with the same shade of blue as the file Minho was holding. He reaches the entry for the 20th and finds it empty. He shows it to Minho, who has a similar expression on his face. “If Chan was there, shouldn’t he have seen something?” 

“Why didn’t he make an entry?” Minho says. He goes over all the information gathered on the guy—Soh Seokyun–and takes the file Seungmin was holding, but his eyes are glazed over as he stares down at the passport photo of the mocking face of seokhyun. “No, he wouldn’t have unless—unless—” 

“No,” Seungmin interrupts. “No. I’m sure he has his reasons.” he sighs, and takes the file out of his hands gingerly, too scared to look into his eyes. He already knows the hurt kind of anger he’ll find there. “Let’s not jump into conclusions, okay? We don’t have time to argue among ourselves.” 

“I’m going to kill him.” Minho grits out. Then he looks up at Seungmin and his body relaxes. “No, you’re right. Ugh, this sucks. I’m working on a reach now. I’m sick of waiting around for them to come back or call.” he sighs out, lip pinched between his teeth. “I’m going home. Call me if something happens. Ciao.” 

Seungmin agrees, their next ‘appointment’ to have their eyes on the people they’ve pinned down as potential smugglers is almost in two weeks. He’s been getting tired of sitting and waiting around as well, the itch for action permanently etched in his fingers. Even though he usually takes the position of the setting up meetings and cross checking every single thing they do, he still feels the need to actually do something, so he can’t even imagine what it must be like for Minho—someone who’s dedicated his entire life to sniffing out crime and gotten used to constantly being in the mouth of danger. 

Minho leaves the office first after hastily pushing his things into a corner in lieu of tidying up. Seungmin hangs back a bit longer, enough to bid the older a ‘ciao’ as he leaves. Then he pulls up his computer after gathering all the files on the man and collects all the entries for the 20th of June from his members. 

He frowns to himself. It doesn’t match up. Chan’s empty entry doesn’t match up with the files. What’s more—Seungmin fishes his phone from his pocket, staring at Jisung’s entry. Dock. he snaps a quick photo of it and sends it to Minho, and then enters the date into his computer. 

He distinctly remembers having accessed one of the few cameras of the dockyard for a case they worked on almost a year ago. If luck would just be in his favour today, and if by some miracle he manages to re-access it again, and if the camera isn’t broken—he’ll be able to get in easily. He won’t have to go over all the way to the dock office and go over all the lengthy procedures again. 

It takes almost thirty minutes for him to remember everything needed, and thirty more minutes to enter the database. By the time the loading screen appears, he’s bored out of his mind. He’s been chewing at the end of his pen for so long now, craving for something real food. He assesses that going out and getting a drink for himself won’t be that harmful. He can’t order food here because it’s strictly forbidden to, so he’ll just stop at a McDonalds on the way. 

He leaves the computer as it is and ventures out. He buys himself chicken nuggets and a coke and gets in his car to eat them. He’s mid-bite into his second nugget when his peripheral vision catches something, or rather—someone. 

He ducks his head down into the towelled seats, almost knocking his coke over with the motion. His heart pounds in his chest as he runs the fraction of a second glance through his mind—ebony black hair, curved lips and gentle eyes, brown coat. He breathes out as he matches face to name, his hunched over position making it difficult to breathe. 

He counts to three and sits up. To his immense relief, Hyunjin isn’t facing him and looking over where his car is parked. He’s at the bakery round the corner, talking to the old lady who owns it. There’s a large smile on both their faces, the lady laughing to something Hyunjin. He sits in his car, watching her fuss over him and hand him an extra free cake. 

He swallows away the lump in his throat as he watches him, both fondness and suspicion clashing into a weird concoction that he feels like he’s been forced to swallow, so now he’s in a space where he watches Hyunjin take the package from her, look both ways and cross the street. 

He’s so sure that he’s following him, or at least has information on where he is, but his current behaviour doesn’t make any sense. He’s not even heading towards the building or aimlessly loitering around. He’s walking down the road with purpose, glancing down at the bag in his hands with a small smile like he’s conjusring up the perfect night for himself—freshly baked cakes with one of the foreign films he watches in the background. Hyunjin in soft pyjamas, soft eyes, soft hair, curled up on the bed, enveloped in the golden glow of fairy lights. A smile on his face. 

“Oh?” Seungmin starts, hard. He grips around his coke tightly. There’s a wide grin on Hyunjin's face, like he really is happy to see Seungmin. The thought makes his chest twist with something akin to guilt. “Seungmin. Fancy seeing you here.” 

Seungmin bows the best he can in the awkward posture he’s sitting in. “Hyunjin-ssi. What brings you here?” 

“Oh, I came here for croissants.” he waves a vague hand towards the direction of the bakery he just came from. Seungmin’s focus drifts when he leans forward and rests a hand on his car window frame. There’s a soft pink tint on his lips, his eyes highlighted with shadow of nude palette. “I’m on a mission to find the best bakery in town.” 

“There’s one just outside the city.” Seungmin blurts out, eager to give him the information he needs. If he was like this on his job, he wouldn’t have a job anymore, but as long as he can see a pretty smile light up on Hyunjin’s face. And as long as it’s harmless information. “It’s pretty far, and I don’t know if I would consider it the best bakery, but their cakes are really good. I used to buy from them all the time.” 

Hyunjin’s lips shape an ‘O’. He pulls out his phone, glancing at his half-bitten nugget and barely hanging on a bottle of coke. He gives him his phone, the notes app open. Best bakeries <33. Seungmin might as well be utterly smitten at this point. “Mind putting the name in?” 

Seungmin takes it from him and types it in after a few seconds of racking his brain for the name. “Oh! The address too, please—no wait, you probably don’t remember the address. I’ll just search it up, don’t worry.” a shy, sort of hopeful smile lights his face. “Maybe we could visit it someday?” 

Oh no . “Yes.” Seungmin blurts, against his better conscience. “Um, I’m kind of busy these days, so if you want—” 

“It’s okay, I can wait.” Hyunjin assures. Seungmin gapes because how is this boy reading his mind? “It’s also okay if you feel like it’s too much trouble, I wouldn't mind going there by myself at all, really. I just thought it’d be nice if we went together, like you know, things are always better with company. But not too much company because—” Hyunjin flushes as he realizes he’s rambling. “Oh god. I’ll just shut up.” 

Seungmin laughs, internally swooning. He’s so cute. He’s pretty sure his cells just evolved into pink heart shaped ones. “No worries. I’d love to go with you.” He taps in his own number, saving it under a crisp ‘Seungmin’. He debates it over and finally adds a heart next to it, just because Hyunjin seems to like hearts and because he’s just become the epitome of one under his ministrations.

Hyunjin watches him do all this with red staining his cheeks. He fidgets against the frame and takes his phone back with a softly uttered ‘ thank you! I’ll message you later!’ and a small bow. Seungmin leans back against his seat, the grip around his coke so tight it's seconds away from exploding in his face. 

He really likes the way he said we. 

“Minho,” Seungmin calls out. 

The older has his feet up on the table, head leaned back to the side. He’s chewing on a piece of gum idly, eyes sweeping over the morning newspaper. It’s still pretty early in the morning; Seungmin has his undercover job starting at 10. He and Minho usually meet up at 7 in the morning to go over the leftover work. Even with Jisung and Chan away, and Changbin stuck in undercover, the incoming influx of consultations and overviews on other cases doesn’t lessen any bit. It now takes longer to finish them, one day work having extended into taking three, owing to the reduction in manpower. 

“Minho!” he calls again. His hyung makes an annoyed noise and finally replies with a roll of his eyes and ‘yes?’ “Did you see the message I sent?” 

“I did.” Minho says. “And I headed over to the dockyard and I got a blueprint of the main area and the—” he slips his feet off and stands up. He extracts a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to him. “—and now you’re going to stop whining about not getting the proper angles. Put them in.” 

Seungmin straightens out the crumbled piece of paper and finds the models and years of the cctv cameras used, the one he’d been dreading trying to access again. He’d got cctv footage for the 20th from the camera he’d accessed yesterday, but it’d been in a dark room and absolutely useless. This, however. 

He gapes up at Minho, who grins back at him. He sits up and pulls his computer towards himself. Minho leans against his chair and watches him type away. He takes the codes he had written down the previous night and it’s not long before he has access to almost every single camera all over the dock. “Oh my god. How—”

Minho sends a wink in his direction. “Alright. Now let’s find our man.” He falters as he stares at the 20 plus camera screens, and groans. “That’s a lot. We’re not going to find him before tonight. Fucking piece of—” he detangles the wires he just almost tripped over. Seungmin sighs and goes back to dividing the screens, half to Minho and the other half for himself to scour over. 

The office is silent except for the bright chirping of birds outside. Cars whirr by below them, the noise efficiently blending together with the ceiling fans. He’s been trying to get them replaced for months now. The faint smell of coffee lingers in the air, and Seungmin glances at the trash can in the midst of watching the footage for camera #4, and of course there’s already three crumpled paper cups stuffed in there. 

He holds his head up with the heels of his hands and skips forward through a few other dark room cams. He’s hoping they get something from the ones they’ve been able to access, or else they’ll have no choice but to access all the remaining cameras after requesting special permission. Plus, they have no idea if Seokhyun was actually there or not, the absence of coincidence of entries already suspicious as it is. 

Minho doesn’t seem to have better luck either. He’s right beside him, clicking his tongue impatiently and his fingers tapping the mouse in annoyance. It’s been almost an hour since they’ve last spoken, Minho having plugged in earphones so that he doesn’t die out of boredom. Seungmin’s now stuck humming under his breath and watching endless grainy pictures and insignificant people loitering in and out of the frame. 

Time slows down as his eye catches a particular frame. He leaps up and hits pause, but the figure is already out of vision. He rewinds it, playing it back over and over again. Minho jerks the earphones out when he freezes up, eyes fixed to the screen like he’s seen a ghost. “Who is it? Did you find him?”

Seungmin shakes his head. Minho squints at the freeze frame in confusion, grainy dots all over the footage. Seungmin swallows, clearing his throat before he speaks. “Look at it. What do you see?” 

“Some guy.” Minho goes along. Any other time and he’d have had the living daylights slapped out of him by now; Minho hates wasting time on idle conversation. But this isn’t idle conversation, is it? Even though at first glance it has no connection whatsoever to what the case at hand…it just seems too perfect to be a coincidence. “He’s handsome, I guess.” 

Suengmin sighs out, head hitting the wood of the table, shoulders sagging in defeat. He figures he should come clean—which he should’ve done long ago. Minho is going to kill him. “That’s Hwang Hyunjin.” he looks up to try and decipher any kind of recognition in his eyes but finds none. Minho cocks his head at him in confusion. “Put his name in.” 

Minho types silently. Seungmin can feel his heart trying to beat out of his throat. He feels sick. He’s so close to throwing up, but he remains rooted to his seat, eyes rigidly fixed to the loading screen. The whirring of the fan too loud in his ears, Minho's typing hitting his eardrums harshly. 

“School teacher,” Minho says, confusion lacing his voice. “Name registered in art programs and some exhibitions. He doesn’t live that far away—” Seungmin shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. I know him.” 

“Intimately?” 

Seungmin hesitates. “No,” he finally settles on, which won’t be of any use saving him once he says everything. “We’re not that close. We talk in passing. It’s always small talk, but it happens everyday . All the time, whenever I go for lunch. Whenever I go out. I’ll walk out of this building and probably bump into him.” Minho's expression remains blank. “In short, I think he’s watching me.” 

Minho’s expression shifts. He doesn’t reply, instead he walks over to Seungmin’s desk. He fetches the entry diary assigned to him right at the beginning. He flips through the pages once, and then repeats it, the second time more aggressively. He slams the diary down on the desk right beside him, and Seungmin unconsciously flinches. His voice is deadly cool. “Seungmin, why is there no mention of a Hwang Hyunjin in your entries?” 

“He doesn’t have anything to do with this.” Seungmin says desperately. The last thing he wants to do is bring Hyunjin into this, but if he has a motive for hanging out at the dockyard—he doesn’t know anymore. There’s a calculating look in Minho's eyes, which disappears in a fleeting moment.

“He didn’t, that’s true.” Minho says. Seungmin stays silent, sensing a but. “ Now he does. Seungmin, what did you train so many years for? If we think we’re being followed, we keep a record of it. That’s just how it is. If you’re going to work on this and plan on taking it seriously, you’re going to leave personal feelings out of this.” Minho’s gaze regards him for an intense moment. “Is that clear?” 

“Yeah.” Seungmin mumbles. “I’m sorry, hyung. I just didn’t think it was important—sorry.” 

Minho stays silent for a short moment, allowing Seungmin and himself a moment to compose himself. Then he pulls his chair closer, and sets himself in front of the computer. “Alright. Now tell me every single thing. Don’t leave anything out. I understand why you thought that it wasn’t important—” 

Minho hits the spacebar. Hyunjin’s face drifts in and out of the frame. He stands there for a few long moments, fiddling with his phone, tapping his feet. Then he walks out, the briefest flash of a man in black clothes at the corner of the footage frame. Minho hits pause. “—this changes everything. If this Hyunjin guy is in any way related to this case then his name should be down. His records are most likely fake too. No pre-school teacher hangs out in dockyards in their free time.” 

Hwang Hyunjin. His eyes burn as he puts his name down in his entry, into a neat little box on the margins. Descriptions, habits, quirks in bulleted points. His hands shake as he pries Hyunjin’s soul apart, as he slowly breaks down whatever trust he’s had in Seungmin over their months of small talk. He sets down the pen to find Minho drawing a copy of a section of the blueprint. 

“Seungmin, are you okay?” Minho asks suddenly, not even looking up at him. Seungmin leans over to see what he was doing, but as much as he can figure people’s thought processes out easily, Minho's brain is but a thick iron shield. He’ll never be able to read Minho thoroughly, and he doesn’t plan on attempting it. 

“I’m fine.” Seungmin breathes out, lying through his teeth. “It’s not like we’re that close, or anything. You know I won't care that it’s someone i know when i go through my work. If Hyunjin has hands in the drug business…yeah. I don’t care.” 

Minho looks up at him. He looks at him like he absolutely knows he’s lying, like he can see through his soul as clear as day. He doesn’t comment on it, instead he moves to his own computer. Seungmin sits silently, staring down at his fingers, a million thoughts running through his head in bleeding cacophony and making it hard for any form of coherency between them. 

The clicking of keys stops in a moment. Seungmin looks up to find the other’s grave expression watching him back. “Hyung?” he asks, his throat dry. 

“I need you to tell me everything about Hwang Hyunjin.” Minho says, and there’s something in his voice that makes a stone cold weight drop to the bottom of his stomach. He glances back at the screen, zeroing onto the frame his pointer hovers over and squints to see through the fried quality camera footage. “Everything. Seungmin, this is bad.” 

Minho presses the spacebar. Hyunjin, his sweet Hyunjin, is talking to Seokhyun in the corner of the frame, hands in his pockets. He extracts a package and hands it to him. Hyunjin moves to step out of the frame, but not before looking straight at the camera. And then, an object comes hurtling towards the screen and it goes black. 

Seungmin looks back at Minho, his heart pounding. Minho sighs and lowers his voice down to a whisper. He shakes his head, palm pressing flat over his hand in lieu of comfort. “I’m sorry.” 

Seungmin sleeps at the office. Or rather, he takes a short nap, with the haze of sleep covering his brain for a few short moments and then slipping away over again. He’s leaned over his desk, an uncomfortable crick in his neck as he replays the day in his head for the hundredth time. 

He’d called in sick, genuinely feeling like he’s going to throw up if he has to force an undercover persona over himself at the point. His brain feels sluggish, lagging, and he knows that’s not the best time to get into undercover because he’s not being as careful as he usually is. He doesn't have the energy to remember who he’s supposed to be anymore, not after he’s replayed the cctv footage in his head so many times it’s practically burned into his retina. 

He hadn’t told any of that to Minho. He’d pretended to head out and lock the door, going over his usual routine of double and triple checking over the security systems. Minho had passed by where he was hiding behind the wall of the lounge. He doubled back up to the office after he left and spent the whole day getting all the information he could gather on Hyunjin. 

He pushes guilt so far back in his mind that he forgets it’s there. He works nonstop, checking, cross-checking. Calling up officials for any possible records he has missed. Any suspicious activity, any distant affiliation with the myriad of crime businesses out there. And not much to his surprise, he had found none. The guy’s record was squeaky clean. And for some reason, that unsettles him even more. 

Minho doesn’t suspect, or he thinks he doesn’t. He comes back at 8 in the evening, voice tired and circles under his eyes. He throws his coat in the chair and collapses against it, muttering something so aggressively Seungmin takes a moment to pray to whoever he was cursing out today. Minho takes heed of his presence in a few, and asks in blatant faux surprise, “Did you not go to work?” 

“I did.” Seungmin mutters out. If Minho knows he’s lying, he doesn’t push further. “Anyways—” he hands him the newly arranged page, with Hyunjin’s face on the top left corner. Hyunjin smiles up at him, eyes turned down just so slightly; he pushes away the guilt trying to nauseate him. 

“I checked all the cams for this month. He went there twice. First was the one on 20th, with Seokhyun. Second time was on the 27th, alone. Camera didn’t catch much of it, but he didn’t do much, just sat on the boardwalk and smoked.” Minho scans through the page. Seungmin gives him his diary. “I wrote down everything we've ever talked about.” he hesitates. “Do you mind if I asked not to go through it unless you really need to? I wrote it down for records, but a lot of it gets personal, so I’d—”

“Of course.” Minho quickly replies. He flashes him a small smile. “I’ll keep in mind not to read the Hyunjin entries. Thanks for telling me.” 

“Half of it isn’t even useful.” Seungmin says, laughing. “Like, I really don’t think the amount of fluffiness he likes in his bread would be of any importance.” Minho must’ve noticed the sad twinge that attaches to his voice. He doesn't feel that bad about it, just… he liked him, he did. He thought he made a new friend, but he keeps forgetting he can’t go around striking up connections with random people. “Anyways. I did my best to organize it, there’s still some of it left. I’ll write it up later.” 

“Hey, the fluffiness of bread is an important determiner for one’s character.” Minho complains, like he’s personally offended that he’s underestimating its value. “No worries, Minnie, take your time. I don’t think we’re getting to actually do anything sometime this month, so…” Minho sighs. “I’m so bored. Can’t Chan just tell me to go blow them up or something?” 

Seungmin snorts. “You would get yourself killed and then Jisung would cry. Do you want him to cry?” 

Minho rolls his eyes at him. “Fucking crybaby.” he says, like he doesn’t sound all fond. “Remember the time that bullet got your shoulder and he cried for like, 15 hours straight because he thought you were going to die? Sobered up so fast when we came and told him you’re completely fine.” 

“No because, I thought he hated me.” Seungmin turns over the memory fondly. “—and then he goes out of his way to get me out of that building. He’d have died if it wasn’t for you, really.” 

Minho looks at him, eyes all uncharacteristically serious given the context they were joking around with. “You know any of us would do that in a heartbeat, right? Seungmin, we care about you and—” Seungmin loses the opportunity to gape at him and call him a sap when there are two sharp raps on the door. Minho cuts himself off and sucks in air through his teeth, eyes rolling. “Come in.” 

“There’s a visitor for Kim Seungmin.” The middle-aged man says, after greeting them with a small bow. Seungmin quirks up in his seat—a visitor? For him? Maybe Changbin managed to slip out to meet them? But then he wouldn’t be asking to meet only Seungmin, and neither would he be waiting around asking the front desk for him. 

Minho sharply glances at him, and nods. Seungmin gets up from his chair to follow the man, and he’s about to ask him if he got a name, when Minho is slipping something in his hands. Seungmin glances down to see a phone, comparatively small to his own and weathered down with age. He glances up at Minho questioningly, who gives him a tiny shake of his head and presses the device further into his hand. 

Oh well, if Minho deems it necessary then he is in no position to refuse. He folds his palm over it and conceals it in the hollow of his palm. He follows the man into the elevator, standing a distance behind him. The man glances back and nods politely, pressing the G button. 

They walk out into the lounge, the man leading him forward. They turn a corner and—Seungmin’s grip around the phone tightens so hard he can feel the ridges burning into his palm. He swallows down as ebony hair and a smile fills his vision. The man leads him to Hyunjin, and then promptly turns to leave. Hyunjin greets him with a wide smile, beaming as ever. “Hi, Seungminnie!” 

It’s cruel. He’s cruel. Seungmin desperately searches the depths of his heart to try to return even half a bit of the endearing genuinity that adorns his features, but he knows how fake it’ll come out. So he settles for his usual bow of his head, and his usual complementary, “Hyunjin-ssi.” 

Hyunjin pouts—a small one, just his lips slightly jutting out. Seungmin takes in a deep breath as he tries to gather his slipping rationality. “Why can’t you just call me Hyunjin?” he asks, and Seungmin genuinely feels bad for a moment. He catches onto himself quickly. Hyunjin rummages through the bags he was holding. “Anyways, I went to another bakery today, and I got you this. Caramel’s your favourite, right? They have flavoured croissants there, how great is that? I got four strawberry flavoured ones; do you want—”

“Hyunjin,” he interrupts. “How did you find this place?” 

Something akin to confused hurt passes through his eyes, but it passes in a flash. Seungmin almost doesn’t realize why it appeared, but then he runs the question over in his head again. He grimaces at the hostility present in his own voice and decides to tone whatever anger he has down for a moment. If Hyunjin is really watching him, then he’ll get suspicious, and that’s never good. 

“I saw you going by here often.” Hyunjin explains. “I didn’t get to see you yesterday, so I thought—I thought, why not? And then you came down, so I knew I'd found the right place!” he pauses, understanding in his eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry, is that a problem? Did I just invade your privacy?” Hyunjin steps back. “Oh no, shit, I'm so sorry. I didn’t realize, I’m so—”

Seungmin holds himself back from screaming. How can he just pretend to be so shy and cute in front of him when he clearly has another personality hidden underneath those same sunshine and butterflies? It fucks with his head. Hyunjin fucks with his head, till all of his thoughts have moulded themselves into Hyunjin shaped silhouettes and the little pink hearts Hyunjin makes in the journals he showed him.

“No, it’s fine.” he finds himself saying. He thinks it over, weighing the several options in his head as quickly as he can. One: Tell Hyunjin to leave and never come back. Too rude. Two: encourage him to keep coming back and buying him cake and flowers and whatever boyfriends would buy for each other. Minho will kill him. Three: block Hyunjin from accessing him through this area but open up another way by messaging him. Minho will hang him to death. 

Four: “Just, I said I'm kind of busy right now, right? Yeah, um, so I’d—I’d appreciate it if—” Hyunjin interrupts him with a noise of understanding immediately. “Ah, of course, of course. Don’t worry about it, Seungminnie—” his hands brush the collar of his shirt straight and Seungmin distinctly feels his heart skip several double beats. When he looks up at him, the tips of Hyunjin’s ears are flaming red, the prettiest flush on his cheeks. 

“I’ll hold off giving you anything till you tell me to.” his bottom lip folds under the white of his front teeth. “Or…you can tell me if you don’t want me to—don’t want me to seek you out? Not like I go out of my way to, but if it bothers you—”

“No, it’s fine.” Seungmin says again, far too quickly for someone who knows he should stop seeing so much of this boy who’s so detrimental to his health, literally. It’s fine, he doesn't have to tell Minho about it. He’s not so keen on dying, but it’s been so long since… he’s strong enough to defend himself. He pushes down the tiny part of his brain telling him that he's so far gone that won’t even mind dying by the hands of this pretty boy right here. “It’s fine.” 

“Cool.” Hyunjin’s smile is absolutely worth the inner turmoil—the whole ass thunderstorm, nimbostratus clouds and all—brewing up inside him. He internally groans to himself as the smell of freshly baked cake fills the area. God, he’s so fucked. 

He quietly groans to himself as he watches Hyunjin walk away—after doing a happy little dance. Seungmin is so fucked. His mind feels completely blank as he takes the lift again. He doesn’t even roll his eyes at the squeaking of the doors as he opens them and takes the route back to his office, debating on how to hide the package. 

As if on cue, his phone rings, and the handsome face of his sweet sunbaenim lights up the screen, glaring at him with one eye closed. Minho calls it winking. Same thing, really. He sighs and picks it up, greeting him with a flat ‘what.’

“Get back here, right now.” There's a cold regard in his voice that makes all ideas of hiding the gift seep down the drain immediately. He picks his pace up, his boots clattering loudly in the otherwise silent aisles. No one comes up to this floor anyways. 

Minho hangs up the moment he finishes speaking, and with each step towards the office deep nervousness starts to settle in. Minho's bark is so much harsher than his bite that the latter usually pales in comparison. All he’s going to get is a good old reprimand that will leave him wounded for days before Minho will finally call him a brat and buy him bibimbap from his favourite place. 

“Aha!” such an exclamation from Minho on a regular day would be absolutely menacing, but given the current situation, paired with the borderline maniacal smile… he might as well pulverize himself and pray to the heavens to not have him come after his ghost. “I knew it. Hand that over, loverboy.” 

“You’re one to speak.” Seungmin says in a grumble, but he complies with his orders anyway. Minho peeks inside the brown bag, sniffing. “Hm. At least he has good taste.” 

“This is scary.” Seungmin comments, genuinely scared for his life at this point. How did Minho know that it was Hyunjin? He’s about to comment on how he looks borderline psychotic right now, but then Minho turns to him with a wide grin on his face. 

“Give me the phone.” Seungmin makes a confused noise but fishes the device he had previously put into his pocket and drops it into Minho's open palm. He switches it on, tapping the pin in, giving up his fingerprint, fishing his official agency id from his pocket and scanning it. Just as Seungmin’s starting to think that it’s all a show, the phone lights up to a picture of an orange tabby. 

Seungmin stares at the phone and then back up at him. Minho makes a show of tapping the play button on the screen, and his own voice plays back out for the both of them to hear. Seungmin looks up at the ceiling and silently counts down from 5, before he’s sighing out in exasperation.

 “Did you just fucking record me?” 

According to his sweet hyung, nuances of one’s voice can say a lot about what that person thinks of another. And according to him, Hyunjin holds no hostility towards, no underlying intentions that is. He’d added the cheerful note that it’s hard to tell among trained professionals such as them, having worked to put the thin but impenetrable film over their own soul. 

Seungmin has no idea what to do anymore. Minho hadn’t commented on the implied permit he had given Hyunjin to keep seeing him. He had seen a thoughtful smirk crossing his face, and in short, he’s terrified. Minho won’t tell him what he’s up to, but he keeps asking him about Hyunjin so much that he half wondered if now Minho is in love with him. 

The other annoying thing Minho does is keep listening to the recording even though it's just 2 minutes of them talking about cake. Seungmin had feared he’d ask him to record their future conversations, but he didn't. Seungmin can’t explain the overwhelming relief at that. He wouldn’t be physically able to force himself to do that, not after how he’s forcefully crashed the polite boundaries between them. Hatred directed towards himself consumes him everytime he thinks how he’s been not left even a morsel of privacy for Hyunjin, how he’s disbalanced everything their relationship had been built on. 

He doesn’t message him. He doesn’t reply to the hi!! This is Seungmin, right? sitting patiently in his inbox. He doesn’t leave the office except for his undercover duty for fear of facing him. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to meet eyes with him, let alone hold civil conversation with him without feeling sick to his core with guilt and shame. 

If Minho can tell the drop in his mood, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he greets him with over-the-top flair in the mornings and bids him ciao in the night. He takes the extra workload being given to Seungmin and offers case consultation in place of him. He calls him ungrateful everytime Seungmin tries to protest, and they engage in this push and pull every single day till Seungmin is forced to give up his work to his hyung and slump onto his desk in defeat. 

He can tell Minho is bored out of his mind. He hears the phrase I’m going to go crazy if I don’t do something at least thrice a day, and it’s uttered so forcefully that Seungmin starts genuinely fearing his sanity deteriorating. He gets it. Minho lives off the thrill that this particular profession is guaranteed to bring. He got into this job with that in mind, paranoia bowing down to how careful and reckless he can be all at the same time. He wonders why they cooped Minho up here with him and sent the other three on the more dangerous tasks. 

And that’s not all, Seungmin still has an undercover job, albeit much more boring than what Chan, Jisung and Changbin had taken on. But Minho… he’s just doing paperwork and hanging out with old people. He’s working in retail and a carshop—because that’s how bored he gets alone in the office. There’s something weird about it—about this—that he can’t place, and it’s jarring as it is without the addition of Hwang Hyunjin to the case. 

Seungmin had visited the dock and checked all the entry and exit files. He had, predictably, found no Hwang Hyunjin on there. Either he used a fake name—of course, very possible—or he hasn’t been there at all. Or, someone covered for him. 

He knows Hyunjin is being covered for because the only thing in his records is school teacher and a few other mundane things that hold zero relation to the steps he wants to be tracing down. His file looks way too clean to be true, considering that he’s been caught hanging around suspects twice. 

The more Seungmin thinks about it, the more it puts him off. He’s trained. He has an eye for body language. He has a built in lie detector in him. He knows he’s not that big of an amateur to not have caught at least a whiff of the warning signs. But that’s the thing, there were none, and Seungmin is still having a hard time believing Hyunjin could be mixed up in something so incriminating. 

Right now, Minho sits on the chair across from him, eyes scanning the morning paper as usual. He didn’t get the chance to read it this morning, so he’s reading it at 8 in the night, all completely with tea dipped crackers and little nods of his head whenever he’ll come by a particularly juicy piece of news. Seungmin shakes his head and returns to writing the case consultation he’s been sent. 

Minho sits up abruptly. He doesn’t pay him notice, thinking that he’s probably come across some interesting advertisement. But then, his sleeve is being tugged on, and his attention is being demanded. “Seungmin,” Minho begins, eyes drifting along a large column. “There was an accident at the dock?” 

“I don’t know, I didn't hear anything.” Seungmin replies, moving over to peek into the newspaper Minho was holding up. The headline informs him: freak accident at dock: political war? he reads through it quickly. By the time he finishes reading, Minho has a calculating look in his eyes. “I don’t think it’s an accident. I think it leans towards a fight. Gun fight.” 

“I’m not saying it has anything to do with our case, but since the dock has become a suspected site… it’s better to know what’s happening there.” Minho looks up, worried. “I don’t think it’s an accident either. Do you think we should go ask about it?” 

“Absolutely.” Seungmin says immediately, knowing well enough how the news will twist and warp reality to accommodate their own spread of propaganda. The only way to get trustworthy information is through the witnesses themselves. “But I don't think we should go together. If we’re being watched—”

The office phone rings. Four blaring rings, and Minho rushes forward to pick it up. “Hello?” 

“Minho,” a crackling voice greets them over the phone. Seungmin rushes to his side. The voice turns warm. “Minho.” 

“Where are you? Why’re you calling this phone? You’ll get intercepted!” Minho hisses, but a glance at him reveals the misty eyes. Seungmin can clearly hear the worry in his voice. “Jisung, where are you?” 

“Relax, babe.” Jisung says, after a pause of a few seconds. Seungmin frowns at the crackling of his voice, at the unnatural hushed quality. He falls silent again, but they can hear the hushed whispers. When he speaks up, it’s louder than before. “I’m fine. Where’s Seungmin?” 

Minho wordlessly hands him the phone, brows furrowed. His bottom lip quivers. “Hi.” Seungmin says into the receiver. “Where are you calling from? How are you?” 

“Ugh, stop asking me where I am.” Jisung grumbles. Seungmin frowns. “Anyways, i just called to say, uh, that things are going well here. Oh, uh, Chan’s here with me—hyung, here—” the line goes silent, low static noise filling his ears, before another warm but weary voice greets him. “Hello, Seungminnie. Everything fine there?” 

“Yeah, we’re great.” Seungmin says, a little absentmindedly. He can’t pinpoint it, but something’s wrong. Chan and Jisung are trying not to make it obvious, but it still hits him square in the gut. He debates whether he should straight up ask what it was, but then Jisung has taken the phone back again. 

“Yeah, we gotta go, can’t really talk much. Sorry, Seungminnie.” Seungmin can almost feel the phantom clap on his back under the guise of comfort that Jisung always used to do. “Yeah, yeah, E-fourteen? Anyways, where’s Minho? hyung, I love you! Seungminnie, love you too.” the line crackles one last time before it goes dead. 

“What the fuck was that.” Minho mutters under his breath. Seungmin sits frozen in his seat for a short moment, before he swivels around. “Hyung, give me Jisung’s entry.” 

“Now what are you upto?” Minho asks, getting up to fetch the diary for him. “Fucking brat—” he can hear him muttering under his breath. “Calls out of the blue and disappears again. Who does he think he is? What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Your entry, too.” Seungmin says, flipping through the pages of Jisung’s diary, scrawled in with barely legible handwriting and random doodles all over the pages. Minho hands him his own, and he takes it, placing it on top of Jisung’s. 

“Huh.” Minho blinks down at the pages being fluttered, an exasperated expression on his face. “Will you tell me what you are doing so I don’t go fucking insane? Why did he have to call out of nowhere? I swear to god, if I don’t get something to do before the end of—”

“Hyung.” Seungmin interrupts. He holds up Jisung’s diary. “You two used to tally your observations and write each other’s down, right?” Minho nods, still looking confused. Seungmin throws open the page to 14th of May, fingers on the margins where Minho’s observations had been copied down. “Did you forget to write this one?” 

Minho leans over to where he was pointing, a singular watched followed by him, 10 pm.  He frowns, trying to remember if he made a mistake, but then decisively shakes his head. “I didn’t write that. We were tagging the red hoodie guy, right? I don’t think I ever had 10 pm watch duty.” 

Seungmin’s heart hammers in his chest. “Then why—did you hear? He said fourteen in the middle. I looked over all entries for the 14th of each month. This is the only one different from your entries, the rest are written the same.” Minho’s expression mirrors his own. “Is he trying to say that—?” 

“Forget that.” Minho’s voice trembles. He’s never seen him so shaken up and has a half a mind to reach out to steady him. He doesn’t. “Why would he have to talk in code? It’s only chan with him, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know.” Seungmin whispers. The sky outside the office windows suddenly seems darker than before, the usual comforting silence now eerie. Even the lights seem to flicker and—woah. He’s taking it too far. He’s been watched before; he can’t let it become that big of a deal. “We’re really being watched then?” 

Minho snorts, but his eyes are dark. “Of course we are.” he gets up from his seat, watching towards the door jerkily. He mutters under his breath as he heads out. “Maybe Saebum—no, Jiwoo will do. That guy needs to be watched as well. She’ll watch him, alright.”

Seungmin feels too disoriented to think in the span of time Minho was absent. He snaps his gaze up to Minho as he reappears after about fifteen minutes. He pretends to not take notice of his red rimmed eyes. 

“If Hyunjin asks you to hang out with him—yah, Kim Seungmin!” he gets a file thrown at his face. Minho’s jaw is clenched in annoyance. Seungmin quickly apologizes, not too keen to get on his bad side right now, not when he’s already so irritated at him. “If he asks to hang out, you will. Be careful. You have your stuff on you, right?” he continues when Seungmin nods. “Good. Jiwoo will still be watching him, so by extension she’ll be watching over you as well. Still. Be careful, okay?”

“I know, hyung.” Seungmin says measurely. “I know.” 

“Good.” Minho says again, oddly nervous. He’s standing at the window, glancing around the apartments. “If someone kills me while I'm standing here then you’re ordered to avenge me. I don’t want to die in this rathole of an office.” 

Seungmin finds it in himself to laugh, even though he’s still wondering what Jisung’s hesitant voice meant. 

Seungmin spots him from his window. It’s sort of a lucky coincidence—he hardly stands at the window but his favourite coffee shop closed a few days ago and he stands peeking down at it, fingers crossed in hope of it opening up. He’s doing the same on one fine Tuesday morning when he spots long black hair and an elegant silhouette weaving in and out of the crowd. 

At first he resolves to ignore it. But then, his mind keeps saying things like you miss him and you haven’t heard his voice in two weeks. He successfully manages to get into a mental fist fight with the voices trying to get him fired, but then he sees Hyunjin walking up towards the building whose sixth floor he was currently standing in. He shakes his head— god, he’s so incredibly annoying and beautiful. 

Seungmin quickly looks around the empty office, throwing out a silent apology towards the googly eyes stuck to Minho's desk mug. He grabs his coat and hurries out.

This is a bad idea, Seungmin thinks to himself, rolling his eyes as the squeaky elevator gate groans and he slides it open. But Hyunjin will find him at the end, anyway. He’s putting off the inevitable. The worst-case scenario would take place in front of his eyes—Hyunjin actually coming up to the office and asking around. Seungmin going down to meet him is the safest bet right now, and definitely not his desperate urge to see him again. 

The tiny squeak of surprise Hyunjin makes when he finally gets to see him in all his glory should not be as cute as he finds it, but he’s long since discovered his lack of immunity to these things. Especially when Hyunjin’s the perpetrator. So he just greets him with faux surprise lacing his voice, and asks what brings him here. 

“Oh, I came to ask if you were free.” Hyunjin says. “I didn’t see you in two weeks and you’ve—” his voice turns small, head lowering. “—you haven’t responded to my messages, so I got worried and—”

Seungmin feels much like the time he accidentally hit an innocent bird during his training. He remembers it, a beautiful dark coloured bird with blue tipped wings, wounded at the foot of a tree. He’d picked it up and hurried him to their faculty doctor, but it’d died before they could do anything. He kind of feels the same now, as he watches the worried expression on Hyunjin's face. 

He thinks back to the first time Hyunjin had asked him a question that stood on the line of his personal boundaries. He’d repeatedly apologised if he’s crossing a line, and that he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t even remember the question, that’s how much Hyunjin distracted him. All he had done was stare at the worry in his eyes, and wonder if he was allowed to surge forward and kiss him. 

“I’m okay, don’t worry.” Seungmin says softly, and he can’t tell if he’s saying it to Hyunjin or reassuring himself. “Sorry for not replying, I'll do it right away.” He doesn't bother to make up a lie for why he hadn’t in the first place, because he’ll see through it. He wonders if Hyunjin thinks he doesn’t want him around—and the answers to it vary considerably depending on whether you’re asking Seungmin’s heart or brain. 

Hyunjin proposes to go get the newly launched brand of cakes in the bakery at the corner of the street, the one he’s often watched him visit from the window of his office. He doesn’t have it in himself to refuse to the stars in Hyunjin’s eyes. Saying no to Hyunjin when he gets like this would be like kicking a puppy. He’ll hate himself for the rest of his goddamn life if he sees Hyunjin’s smile fall because of him. 

That’s partly why he can’t believe that someone as precious as Hyunjin would be messed up in something like that. Seungmin being with the police force is enough to make himself feel guilty for keeping it from Hyunjin, even though logically he knows that his position and job automatically requires him to. Hyunjin gives him a sense of normalcy—however fleeting and false it might be—and he’s just a little disappointed to find that he has to stop trusting the only person he thought he could without the fear of repercussions. 

They enter the bakery, the small bell ringing out a melodious welcome. The mouthwatering smell of cakes and bread just pulled out of the oven envelopes his senses. He takes in a deep breath, trying to take in the most of it. He can physically taste the cakes on his tongue just from the smell, and Hyunjin laughs at his blissed out expression. 

He takes a table for both of them. There aren’t that many, just four elegant coffee coloured tables with wooden curls forming support. Hyunjin beckons him to take a seat and tells him he’s going to pick his favourite, and then Seungmin can choose his own favourite. He obeys, finding it so adorable that Hyunjin insists on him having a taste of what he likes. He relaxes back against his seat and watches Hyunjin walk up to the old lady with a bow and a wide smile. 

Various pieces of art and portraits enhance the ambience of the place, while slow jazz music plays from the large speakers overhead. Painted pots of plants are held by the double sided glass windows, sufficient space between the windows to form displays. There’s no one else in the shop but them, and he’s left to watch the graceful white ribbon in Hyunjin’s hair flutter as he talks to the lady animatedly. 

It’s nice. It’s really nice. The nice takes root in his heart, planting gentle buds in it. It slowly creeps its branches out, slowly squeezes in the entirety of his chest till he feels completely embodied in fondness and a bittersweet wish that this could be real. Even if Hyunjin wasn’t potentially under his radar… he knows he’d never be able to find what he so desperately craves for till he’s at least 40 and balding. 

And as he thinks it, as he watches Hyunjin come up to his table and place two cups of coffee on the table—getting Seungmin’s usual choice right down to the tee—he can’t help but feel the premonition that he’s wasting his life away. Not the I'm not doing anything with my life way but the I’m missing out on so many things way. It’s probably selfish to wish for it, just like many people would do anything to get up to the position he is in right now. 

He doesn’t talk much as they sip onto their coffee, Hyunjin blowing onto his cup to try to cool it down. It’s still quite early, the warm sunlight glow seeping in through the decorated glass window and between the leaves of the window plants. Hyunjin’s eyes are warm and honest as they talk to him, his voice loud in the otherwise empty shop. Sunlight falls on him at the perfect angle—not that any angle wouldn’t be perfect because it’s Hyunjin, for crying out loud. Honeyed eyes try to catch his gaze as blinks his daze away. “Are you listening?” 

Seungmin sees him pout slightly, and his eyes zeroes in on the smear of brown coffee on the corner of his lips. And thank fucking god he trained to keep his wits with him all the time, because he barely just holds himself back from doing something stupid like leaning forward and kissing the breath out of him. 

Hyunjin’s gaze remains fixed on him as he replies to what he says, and his attention strays not one bit, till Seungmin feels his own gaze faltering. Looking into Hyunjin’s eyes, looking full into his face is hard, and he’s always found himself saved by fidgeting with something in his hands while talking to him. Hyunjin is just too beautiful to look at without feeling completely awed and blown away, the kind of gentle beauty that he often akins to that of a swan gliding across a crystal clear lake. 

Hyunjin gets up to fetch the plate for both of them. The wind chimes sway in the wind and ring over and over, riding over the opening piano notes that seem vaguely familiar. The door pushes open and a man walks in, just as Hyunjin is taking seat again. He pushes the plate towards him, and takes out his phone to take a picture of the honey glazed-sugar coated cake with a treacly chocolate core. 

“Um,” Hyunjin begins, all shy and nervous. “If you don’t mind, can I take a picture of you? It’s okay if you don’t want me to.” 

Seungmin finishes his coffee and sets the cup down on the table with a gentle clink. He nods. “You can.” he laughs, picking up his plate and placing it in front of him. “I don’t know how good I'll look though.” Hyunjin asks him to look at the camera, and snaps a photo of him. Seungmin leans over to look. “Woah, that looks good. You’re good. Maybe it’d be better if it was you—”

“You look good.” Hyunjin insists. “You look great, really. You fit the vibe so well, gosh.” he snaps another photo before Seungmin can even think of recovering from what he’s saying. He tries to tame the flush on his cheek but in vain, because Hyunjin is right there, right across from him. Not enough space to fit absolutely pure and holy thoughts, one that doesn't have Hyunjin’s lips at the forefront. “See. So handsome.” 

“If you say so.” Seungmin says, laughing the compliment off. Inside his brain however, there are two distinct heart shaped cells floating around, screaming what the fuck is happening. You just got called handsome by the most beautiful person to ever exist , Seungmin tells himself. Would you like to pick out the flowers and epitaph for your tombstone?

“I have a pin up board for polaroids at home. I put up pictures I take on it, and this one fits the vibe so well—” Hyunjin muses, clicking through the pictures. Call Seungmin delusional, but is Hyunjin blushing as well? The thought makes him all giddy and warm, and he has to hide the wide smile that breaks out on his face with his hand. “Oh! Lemme show you.” 

He pulls out his phone and searches through his gallery while Seungmin quietly nibbles onto his cake, watching him. Hyunjin sits with his back against the shop display, while Seungmin faces him, so he has a full view of the counter. Hyunjin makes a noise of satisfaction and pulls a photo up, leaning forward to show it to him. “I kind of wanted a few candles and things like that to make it prettier, but I have so much paper in my room. I wouldn't be able to sit down in the room without being reminded how big of a fire hazard—”

His body acts before he feels the realization set in, years of training culminating in his reflexes. He jerks forward, wrapping his arms around Hyunjin, and pulling him down. Both of them crash against the wooden table and tumble to a heap on the floor, and in seconds he has his gun out and pointing it up at the man who’s holding a similar weapon to their face mockingly. 

The man pulls the gun down. “That settles it, then. How old are you, boy?” there’s a certain glint in his eyes as he says it, glancing down at him on the floor. Seungmin ignores Hyunjin for a moment, trying to quickly formulate a plan. This man won’t kill them. If he wanted to, he’d have pulled the trigger when he had him distracted. But now, the gun in the man’s hand lies to his side. He doesn't fail to notice the finger pressed over the trigger. 

“Hyunjin,” he whispers without looking down. He braces himself and stands up on his feet, pulling a very frozen Hyunjin along with him. He pulls him behind his back. “When I say go, you run, okay? Don’t look back. Don’t—” oh shit.” 

There are three more guys at the door, big and buff looking. Seungmin holds himself back from rolling his eyes. He glances back to the narrow hallway guarded by a curtain that probably leads to the kitchen, and horror sets in as he wonders what they did to the nice old lady. Seungmin holds onto Hyunjin’s wrist as the guy walks up to him and brushes the gun against his cheek. “Who’s the friend?” 

“None of your business.” Seungmin grits out, hands flexing over the barrel of his gun. Of course he won’t use it, but if it comes down to it… he wants Hyunjin out of there as soon as possible. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Oh, you won’t need to know that.” the guy says. The metal of the gun feels ice cold on his cheek and he jerks his head away in annoyance. His grip around Hyunjin’s hand tightens. “All you need to do is come with us quietly.” The man’s gaze regards him quietly. “You and that other officer have been watching us, haven’t you?”

Oh. Alright, that’s who they are. Potential members of the ring? Friends of the people they’ve detained? In any case, they want to take him hostage, maybe force the police off their backs. With a sinking feeling he remembers Jisung talking in code even though they know they shouldn’t be calling if they think they’ll be overheard. Are they being taken hostage, as well?

When Seungmin doesn’t answer, the man’s gaze drifts over to behind him and lands on Hyunjin. He doesn't know the expression on his face—scared and confused probably, but the mental image doesn’t help in the slightest. He doesn’t care what these guys want, he just wants to get Hyunjin out. But wait—if Hyunjin is mixed up with them then wouldn’t there be greetings being exchanged? Combined laughter at how naive Seungmin was?

The man reaches out for Hyunjin and he acts without thinking again, as he usually does. He slams the handle of the gun into the man’s jaw and pushes him off. The man stumbles back, holding his face and eyes watering. He opens his mouth to speak, but then Seungmin figures it’s best to distract him so that Hyunjin can get out of there. He launches forward and places a clean punch against his neck, using his other hand to trap him in place. The sets the gun to the man’s head, and forces him around to face the other three. 

“Touch him and this—” he presses the gun to the guy’s temple. “—dies. Hyunjin, go.” 

He can see Hyunjin hesitating, and goddamnit, he doesn’t have time for it! He says it again with more force behind his words, and finally hears the tell-tale thumping of feet. Hyunjin makes to go forward but Seungmin realises that if he gets too close to the men at the door they probably won’t hesitate to skewer him. He cocks his head towards the curtain, hoping that this bakery is normal like every other kitchen. “Back door.” 

Once he’s sure Hyunjin has fairly gotten away, he squeezes his forearm around the guy’s neck. “Alright, start talking.” he hits the man’s head with the gun when he starts squirming in his grip. 

“Who sent you—oh, no, you don’t.” Seungmin hisses, keeping the gun pressed to his head while he elbows the other guy trying to run forward in the stomach. His grip around the guy’s neck loosens and he feels a punch getting him square in the face. “Oh, fucking hell. I didn’t even get to eat my cake.” he jams the gun to the side of someone’s forehead, kicking into someone else’s torso. 

“God—” Seungmin now regrets ignoring his practice sessions as the stretch starts to set in. He swings his hand up hard till he contacts someone’s chin and smushes the gun down on the head at the same time. He ignores the blood spotting all over his hands and chest, and knees the guy in the stomach to push him back on the floor. “This is why I hate guys like you. You should’ve at least practised to take me down? That is so disrespectful—oh, you’re still here.” he sighs, shrugging with his hands up in the air. “Come at me, I guess.” 

Once he has all three of the guys fairly beaten and down on the floor, he looks around, pleased. Not bad, considering it’s been so long since he had to actually fight someone. His training definitely pays off, he might just become like Minho now—go around taking on the dangerous tasks. He wipes the barrel of his gun against his soiled shirt. Ugh. He’ll have to get the blood out again. 

He squats down beside the man he’d deemed the leader of the other three, and rummages through his pockets to find his phone, spare change, bus tickets, and a wallet with a single note and a slot full of business cards. He pockets all of it, and moves to the others, having to occasionally tame them down when they start lashing out at him.

By the end of the process, he has all their credentials and a painful bruise on his jaw. He’s pretty sure there’s blood pooling with spit at his palate. He stands up, goes over to the sink and spits out, grimacing at the metallic taste. He’s just rinsing his mouth when the window panes darken and the glass crashes. 

He spits the water out as the sound of screaming pedestrians fills his ears. He knew they were baiting him, but he didn’t know the sheer scale it was in. He scans the people standing at the entrance quickly, pulling out the extra revolver from under his shirt and loading it up. Shit, he’ll never be able to take on all of them. The police won’t appear before they have him beaten into smithereens and forty miles to whatever remote island they were thinking of holding him hostage. 

Behind his back, he pulls out his phone and taps on the fingerprint sensor thrice in rapid succession, triggering the emergency contact box. He’s just swiped right, the way he knows will alert Minho with a high importance call when the guys advance. He barely has time to breathe out a ‘shit’ as he blocks the incoming punch by crossing his arms. 

He pushes the guy back and jams the butt of his gun onto his head, landing an angled kick right on the underside of his knees. He knocks him down, but the con of it is he himself gets dragged down as well. The guy notices the phone in his hand—albeit a little slow—and makes to grab it out of his hand. Seungmin can feel his teeth grinding together as he dodges away, twisting around and kicking himself off the ground. 

He holds the barrel to the side of his head before hitting him with it as hard as he can, and his grip around his torso loosens. He’s barely just gained balance on the floor when he’s being thrown down again, a loud crack of his body hitting the frail wooden chair. Splinters of wood dig into his skin and the cuts start burning, but the time frame he’s been given to brace himself for the next attack makes it impossible to notice it. 

“Fucking piece of—” the spirit of Minho takes over, “—God, you’re so annoying!” Seungmin surges forward, groaning when his head hits the other’s forehead. The hit does absolutely nothing except dizzy himself, and he realizes that seconds after doing it. So he follows it up with a blind punch since his legs are pretty much pinned to the floor. 

All of them have guns , he notices as he’s trying to ward off the guy grabbing onto him. Where the fuck are the police? And then he realizes… he kind of is the police in this situation. The thought makes him feel even more hopeless of getting out alive. As competent as he is, he isn’t exactly built to take on a whole armed up gang by himself. That’s more of Minho's forte. If the asshole would just answer… but then he remembers the unmistakable sound of crushed glass when he was knocked down. Uh oh. 

Blood oozes out of his nose in rivulets and trickles down over his chin. He yells out as he successfully dodges a—what the fuck, why are these guys carrying fucking bats—he swoops down, hooks a leg around an ankle and throws them down. He pushes forward and elbows two guys in the face, giving them half a second to recover before he punches both of them over the ribs again. He pushes the worry of potentially killing them to the back of his mind for later—if he’s even let out of this alive, of course.

He coughs, blood spraying out of his mouth as his back hits the prettily decorated wall with a resounding thwack! Glass glitters down all around him, seeping in through the open wounds he’d gotten from scraping his arms against cracked glass earlier on. “Really?” he asks, loading the gun behind his back. Desperate times call for desperate measures. “You had to bring so many guys to take me? Aw, I'm flattered.” 

He’s hit in the head so hard he sees stars. “ You’re the annoying ones.” the guy spits, like literally. Seungmin grimaces at the drops of his spit on his face, almost bringing his hand up to wipe it off but then remembering the blood smudged on him. “Acting all high and mighty. You can’t even fight.” 

Seungmin glances over his back. Still no police. He’ll just have to hold it out then. With dawning horror he notices the missing ones, the number of them right now starkly less than it had been. Shit. Did they go after Hyunjin? That’s very likely—fuck, what if they get hold of Hyunjin and use him as hostage to make them back off? Seungmin would do that in a heartbeat, but the others he’s not so sure. He personally doesn’t really want to give up on their trail when they’ve already come this far. 

“Yeah? Explains why you’re limping even though you have your buddies with you.” Seungmin bites out, breath hitching when he’s slapped across the face. He lets out an incredulous huff, glaring up at the guy through red spots in his vision and the hair matted over his eyes. He should’ve got a haircut, goddamnit. “Fuck off. I don’t know what you want with me, but you’re not getting it.” 

“Oh, that’s not up to you, is it?” the guy grins. He should ask him his name. “Once they know we have their precious genius kid locked up they’ll do anything we ask them to.” Seungmin jerks his head away when the guy tries to bring his face up by the chin. “Kim Seungmin. You were the prodigy kid, weren’t you? Not much prodigal about you.”

“I’ll show you prodigal, you—” Seungmin directs what remains of his strength to his crotch. The man falls over, groaning. “—asshole.” he pries the slackened grip on his right hand holding the gun and points it at him. He pushes himself up to stand up, holding onto the chair beside him, or well, the remains of the chair. Man, he feels bad. He makes a mental note to refund the nice lady and rebuild the bakery. 

He kicks the brat’s face. “This your boss?” he asks the others around him, all holding their guns up at him. He knows well enough that mere under duties can’t approach the subject, let alone bargain terms and conditions with them. “Lower your guns, will you? You’re not scaring me. Not one bit. Not much of a mission when the person you want gets killed, is it?” 

“And what if we already have the person we want?” a guy steps forward. Seungmin hums, his fears confirming. They’re after Hyunjin as well. If they’ve been watching him for a while then they’ve probably seen Hyunjin as well. Ugh. This just complicates it. 

“Oh well, in that case—” Seungmin shrugs, raising his gun. He raises his eyebrows at them as their eyes follow the line of his hand. He props the gun up to face the ceiling. He pulls the trigger. “I guess I'll just have to give up, won’t I?” 

The loud hissing of water being sprayed gives him a second’s warning before he dives aside. The shop erupts in yells and fog, and Seungmin tries to remember the layout of the shop. If he had been hit against the wall beside the basin, then the displays would be north, the basin left, the curtain right behind him. For good measure, he dives to the counter behind the displays and fires towards the ceiling pipes again. More water sprays out and he retraces his steps back to the basin. 

He finds the curtain easily, ripping it aside in his haste to run out. He can hear shouts that correctly pinpoint what he’s trying to do, so he’ll just have to make a run for it. He hears heavy breathing right behind him, and a hand grabbing him. He pauses and spins around to face the man, and charges forward. The man braces himself for the punch immediately, grabbing his fist. Seungmin twists in his hold and bangs him over the head with a bowl of flour sitting pretty on the kitchen slab. 

The man lets go of his hand and stumbles, making the people behind him fall as well. Seungmin dashes past the fluffy cloud of flour scattering it around. Maybe there’s spare chocolate by the door. He spots light streaming in through the netted and grabs onto the knob, twisting it around. He belatedly discovers that he didn’t have to because the door is already open. 

He spots a carton of newly packed, golden foil wrapped chocolates. He looks up at the man approaching him, eyes wild with rage, and then at the chocolates again. He lunges forward and manages to grab two of them. He fires the gun, pointing it at the man’s thigh. He stutters forward with a pained howl, red quickly oozing through the surface of the black clothes and spreading down his leg. “Sorry, buddy. Get the bullet removed!” 

He throws the door wide open and makes a beeline for the garden. Oh man , he thinks, pausing to catch his breath. If they destroy this garden I’m killing them. He searches around for an opening to get out from, and around a corner he finds the gate with intricate steel carvings. He blinks at the huge dent made at its hinges, where it should’ve been embedded with the brick wall. 

He lifts the deformed piece of steel and it lifts as smooth as butter, right off its hinge. He throws it aside and scrutinises the crumbling gap the gate makes in the brick. There are pieces of it all over the green grass, a few large pieces having received the brunt of the attack. He examines the blown-up hole in the wall. Definitely a gun shot. 

Well, anyway. He kicks the remains of the gate aside and walks out. Just your typical Tuesday stroll, covered in your own and other’s blood. He’s about to turn the corner to the narrow alleyway when a gunshot resounds through the and a bullet barely grazes his neck. He breaks into a sprint immediately—oh, he’s going to regret that one later—and seeks safety behind the wall. 

Whoever was attacking stops for a moment. Seungmin inches towards the edge of the wall, the curve of it making it easier to spot the man mirroring him—standing behind a wall across him. Seungmin leans back and reaches up to wipe off the blood trickling down over his mouth. Sessions like this are fun, but the cleanup is what gets so messy. He’s so going to ask Minho to pamper him later on. 

Another bullet grazes right past his ear. Seungmin clicks his tongue. Tsk. all this training to face the likes of this. He checks his gun: three left. He knows he’s not going to miss but it’s still worth the relief. He stretches his left hand out, gun gripped awkwardly. A good eye would be able to notice it not being his dominant hand, but he can’t risk getting his right hand injured. 

He fires.

He walks out just in time to hear a spluttered gurgling sound. Oh lord. He hopes he didn’t hit anything vital. He walks up to the man and finds him in a heap against the wall, crying out in pain, fingers clutching over the gunshot on his torso. Seungmin kicks the gun out of his hand and crouches down beside him. He moves it to the side and slides the t-shirt up. 

“There, there.” he coos. “Does it hurt?” he pries his fingers into the wound and digs out the bullet in a few, grimacing at the blood. Ugh. he hates cleanup. “There you go. Maybe your buddies will come help, assuming you don’t bleed out and die, of course.” 

He throws the bloodied bullet away, where it clatters on the asphalt and rolls down into the gutter. He wipes his hands on his trousers and picks the gun up. Now, to find Hyunjin. And he has no idea where he might be. But he’s sure he’s not working with them. There’d would’ve been some recognition, some signal. Hyunjin wouldn’t have been assigned undercover to him if he wasn’t strong, and for someone strong he sure didn’t play too huge of a part in the actual action. 

Even if the men were trying to bait him by saying they’ll use Hyunjin as hostage, he’d have seen at least some indication of it being a lie. That’s the thing about these groups, these gangs. Too many hands spoil the broth. More the number of people in a gang, the harder it gets to conceal. The harder it becomes to follow a plan. That’s their fatal flaw, and Seungmin has long since learned to use it to his advantage. 

He turns another corner, wincing at the sour smell from the trash nearby. A white cat leaps down the wall and bounds to the boxes. Seungmin goes up to the net barring entry to the other side and pauses. 

“Hey,” he finally says, having been brought up by Minho too well to not greet cats when he sees one. The cat meows at him. “Seen a guy around here? Long black hair? Pretty smile? Brown coat?” she meows again. “Yeah. I'm trying to find him. Got any advice for dealing with heartbreak?”

No, the cat probably meows, humans are weird. 

“I know, buddy.” Seungmin chuckles to himself. He wipes the blood of his mouth again, in vain, as more of it trickles down from his nose. He sure hopes he didn’t break anything. He hears a loud shout in the background and tries to focus on it. The cat meows again, leaping up over the edge of the waste boxes. He makes a mental note to come by here again. “I know.”

The yelling gets louder. He pushes himself off the wall, deeming the short rest enough. He doesn't think he’s been hit anywhere vital, even though the warm blood sticks all over his skin uncomfortably. There’s an annoying ache in his leg with every step. He reaches the high net that looks frail but would probably send him flying back if he tried to punch it down. 

He hauls himself up on the stacked box and jumps over it. The ache in his leg returns with the impact, but the noise gets louder. He strains his ears and hears gunshots, and shit, he needs to find him immediately. He breaks into a run, skidding across the asphalt as he turns corner after corner and tries to trace back the noise. 

“Wha—” a pair of strong arms grab him, and his vision goes hazy. His head hits the brick wall behind him as he gets slammed into it. He hears guns going off and the brick around him erupting in powdered bursts. He tries to push away, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. He wriggles around to free his lower half and knees the man into his crotch. 

He thought he outran them but apparently not. He doesn't have much time or energy to fight, so he shoots, right at the man’s thigh. He staggers back, and he pulls him off himself, sending him into a heap on the ground with a punch. He sighs, as he goes over his usual procedure of stripping him of credentials. He has to hold the gun to his chest to get him to cooperate, even though he has only one bullet left. 

He stands up. He’s about to set off towards the other alley when a yell breaks through the air. Hyunjin runs out of the corner, almost jamming into him. He looks him up and down in panic. “Are you okay? You have blood—” the thought of Hyunjin asking if he was okay being the first thing he says to him, and not distraught yelling throws him a little off, but he sees two others coming up behind him and has no time to think anything of it. 

Seungmin grabs him, apologizing quickly, and backs him against the wall. He doesn’t trust them not to shoot—not to kill them, enough to injure them enough to detain any defense. He’s had his fair share of getting hit by bullets, but he doesn’t want to put Hyunjin through it if he can help it. 

Welp, sure enough, they shoot. Hyunjin’s breath hits hot and quick against his neck, body shaking with how hard he’s gripping onto Seungmin’s shoulder. He really should’ve thought this through, he thinks as blinding pain shoots up his back and numbs his extremities. He doesn’t know how close the guys are, but judging by the pointers they’re giving each other—

Seungmin lets go of Hyunjin and swings back, twisting over. He cuts his leg through the air and hits the guy’s neck at a sloppy angle. He doesn't even have enough bullets to use. The guy grabs him by the leg and tries to sweep him around. He gets dragged off his other foot, and he hunches over himself, steadying his centre by gripping the man’s head and hooking his legs over his shoulder. 

He hits the back of his head with his gun. He does it a few more times before the man is crumbling and collapsing down onto the floor. He grits his teeth and stops the groan from escaping him when his back hits the rough asphalt, stone chips digging into his skin and tearing it open. 

How many are there? he thinks in horror, noticing more of them appearing in front of him. A man rushes forward with an ugly yell and raises his fisted hand. Seungmin raises his gun to block—but the punch never gets anywhere close to him. Instead, the man is getting punched in the face and falling back, face shocked and deformed. 

Oh nah. He’s died. That’s the only plausible explanation he has the ability to come up with, before his brain buffers again when he sees Hyunjin kicking the unconscious guy still holding onto him and frees him out of his grasp. There are still four of them, and Seungmin’s shot and bleeding copiously. He has no idea what’s happening anymore, losing all grasp of tangible reality. 

“Seungmin—” Hyunjin yells, elbowing someone in the face. That’s not a shock. What is a shock is that his movements are practised, precise. Fuck, he’s good. He could take on Seungmin himself. His hair loosens itself out of the white ribbon and gets into his face as he sweeps around and kicks out. “Stay awake, please, just a moment!” 

The moment remains a moment. Seungmin feels too weak to concentrate on the gunshots echoing around the block, but the fact that Hyunjin has a gun in his hand and his handling it with graceful ease, changing hands to switch between close combat and then shooting into someone’s hand or leg to restrain them completely. It’s not so long before all the others are done and down on the floor.

Seungmin pushes the rising anger back. “Hyunjin,” he groans out weakly. He rushes to him at once. “Get their—get their wallets. And the guns—collect their guns.” 

When he’s done, he bunches all of it beside Seungmin and kneels down beside him. “The hospital.” he mumbles frantically. Seungmin weakly pushes his eyes open to see him working into his phone, hands trembling. “I need—the hospital—”

“I called Minho.” Seungmin manages to say. He coughs, gingerly putting a hand to get the blood off his lips. “He’ll probably be here in—in, I have no idea actually.” he shifts and tries to get away from the uncomfortable feel of the stones against his back. 

Seungmin looks up at his worried face. “Chocolate?”