Work Text:
Chansol and Hanhoo were in their PJs but holding black briefcases.
"The mafia we're about to deal with are known to be ruthless. They shoot bullets if they lose a game of Uno." Hanhoo stated.
"Sounds more like insane than ruthless to me," Chansol said bluntly. "Is there a chance of a shootout? If so, you brought the bulletproof vest, right?"
"Nah," Hanhoo leaned down until he was face to face with Chansol. "Too lucky for needing that." He smirked. Chansol wasn't relieved by his statement but followed him anyways. As soon as they went in, they heard muttering.
"It's him!"
"Who's that blond?"
"He's cute."
"Uhm, hello there," Chansol said, smiling despite himself.
"Welcome." A tall lady smiled back at him. She wore pilot sunglasses and all-black attire. She held the door open for the two of them, then followed them in.
Chansol looked around, taking it all in. Save for the woman, it was just him, Hanhoo, and a brunette sprawled out on one of two couches. They were green, but the empty couch had a suspicious red stain on the leftmost cushion. Hanhoo sat on the right.
Chansol moved to sit in the middle, but Hanhoo suddenly scooted to the center. He motioned for Chansol to sit where he had been previously.
"I don't remember asking you to bring guests…" The brunette side-eyed Chansol, grinning. "But for such a cutie, I'll make an exception."
Hanhoo's eye twitched. "This is Mr. Khelion," He turned to Chansol. "He's the head of 'Khel Corps',"
"Khel Corps?" Chansol questioned.
"Our corporate name." Khelion flashed him a bright smile. There was an awkward silence before Khelion spoke again. "Aren't you going to introduce your cute assistant?" He pulled out a few papers, which Chansol assumed were purchase details.
"My manager," Hanhoo corrected. "And no, I don't think I will."
"I've never liked your attitude," Khelion remarked, eyes roving the papers.
"I've never cared," Hanhoo said coldly, taking the papers Chansol handed him.
Khelion put the papers on the table, and unsatisfaction graced his face.
"So expensive!" The corners of Khelion's grin twitched. "Is this how much you earn with every bulk sale? You must be making it rain for your company!”
“Of course,” Hanhoo said, pushing his bangs out of his face. “I know how to do my job.”
“I’m not signing this. It says here you have no reports of the success of this weapon.”
“It’s been approved by the standards we set, or else we wouldn’t sell it in the first place.”
“Hmm…” Khelion picked up the aforementioned weapon, a gun, and twirled it in his hands. He lifted it and pointed it at Chansol, then at Hanhoo. He moved it in between the two. “So if I shoot either of you, it’ll pierce through you and end up on the couch.” Chansol tensed at this.
“No.” Hanhoo dared to smirk.
Khelion’s eyebrows went up in amusement.
“Too lucky for that, I’m afraid,” Hanhoo leaned back into the couch, putting one of his arms around Chansol’s shoulders.
“Really…” Khelion said with a smile, promptly aiming and firing the gun at Hanhoo.
Hanhoo blinked. Nothing felt different. That’s when he noticed it, something wet. He turned to Chansol. Blood was gushing out his neck, staining his shirt and Hanhoo’s hand with blood.
“H-hanhoo…” Chansol closed his eyes.
---
Hanhoo woke up with a start. It took him a while to calm down when he was gasping for air. He looked over his shoulder and there laid Chansol - unmoving. Hanhoo shook Chansol aggresively. He couldn’t speak, his throat felt tight.
Chansol’s eyes fluttered open. “W-what are you doing?” He out his hands on Hanhoo’s shoulders.
Hanhoo pulled Chansol into a tight hug.
Chansol opened his mouth, then closed it. They stayed like that for a while, comfortable in each other’s embrace.
---
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened that night?” Chansol said, dropping a stack of papers on Hanhoo’s desk.
“No, I don’t think so.” Hanhoo said, sitting down at his desk.
“Was it a bad dream?” Chansol said, sitting on the desk. Hanhoo said nothing as he leafed through the papers. “You know, if you don’t talk about a bad dream, it might come true.” Chansol said, eyes full of worry. At this, Hanhoo looked Chansol in the eyes.
“You’re right.” Hanhoo sighed. “I had a bad dream.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“Me?”
“I dreamed that you died…” Hanhoo stared at his own hand. “In my arms.” Chansol put his pen down, pulling Hanhoo into an embrace. Hanhoo massaged his temples. “I somehow never, but always, forget that I’m the lucky one.”