Archive of Our Own

Please, Please, Please - Sabrina Carpenter

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego’s another

I beg you, don’t embarrass me, motherfucker

Please, please, please

If he were to be asked, Chan would say that his luck ran out about a year ago. Life has been kind to him—it’s honestly been fine. Things happen, there are good days and bad days as expected when going through the motions. So, maybe life isn’t the problem. Maybe it’s who Chan chooses to spend it with. 

Maybe if he made good choices about his boyfriends, then he wouldn’t be sitting in a jail cell waiting for someone to bail him out because he’s fucking innocent. How the fuck was he supposed to predict that his piece of shit boyfriend— ex boyfriend—would try assaulting a police officer? He didn’t mean to run from the crime—he was being pulled by the wrist in a sprint before he could process what was going on, and within the minute, had also been slammed against the hood of a cop car and handcuffed like some sort of criminal. 

Six hours later and he’s hoping that they mean it when they say there are no pressed charges—again, he’s fucking innocent. Unless being stupid in lust is a crime, then… Yeah, sure. He would understand. 

“Lee Chan!” 

Chan snaps his head up, blond hair messily sticking to his forehead, feeling ridiculously out of place in the silver studded vest casting reflections over the bare skin of his chest and abdomen, and the black pants he wore last night in hopes of having a good time. The rugged man sitting a few feet away from him looks him up  and down with a frown, and it’s only then that Chan is reminded of the rhinestones glued to the inner and outer corners of his eyes. Fuck, he’s gotta get out of here. 

“Lee Chan!” The voice barks again, this time a female officer standing outside the cell, staring directly at him. “Somebody bailed your ass out. Let’s go.”

Chan smiles to himself, getting up gracefully and trying not to look back at the grumbled comments being left behind. He listens vaguely to the directions given to him— to your left, no, your left — before he’s getting his belongings unrightfully taken from him. This officer is tired, eyes heavy as he holds up a ziploc bag with his black sunglasses and lip tint. 

“All this yours?” The officer asks, voice slow and monotone. 

Chan nods with a smile he knows is cute, the officer seeming less than impressed as they push the bag under the small opening. Chan immediately opens it, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair and  staring at his reflection in the glass divider, carefully applying his lip tint and ignoring the snide comments the officer makes. 

The comments are drowned out anyway a few seconds later, the sound of doors unlatching, a loud buzzer filling the air as a gate starts to slide closed behind him. He turns in curiosity, met with the sight of a man in handcuffs, clumsily pushed along by officers. In the second Chan considers turning around and minding his own business, the man looks up, their eyes meeting, something fluttering in his chest as he lets himself look. 

The man is tall—long legs covered by black pants, torso adorned with a low cut black shirt that shows off the defined muscles of his chest and a silver necklace hanging between his pecs. His nose is straight, cheekbones long, jaw defined and lips full. Black hair hangs in front of his eyes, the rest sitting just below his ears, touching the nape of his neck. His eyes are dark, narrowed directly at Chan. 

It’s hard to look away, Chan’s head following his movements as he disappears into another room, the man’s  neck craning to look Chan up and down before he disappears altogether into a holding cell. 

“Hey, kid!”

Chan inhales heavily, trying to ease the stuttering in his chest as he turns and tilts his head to the side. “Me?”

The officer rolls her eyes. “Yes, you. Your friend’s waiting for you.”

Chan smiles, a slight hop in his step as he turns to leave. 

Fuck this place—he’s never coming back.

✧

The drive home is quiet, silence so thick that Chan is sure that if he poked at the air, some sort of bubble would burst. He doesn’t test his luck, though, awkwardly fidgeting in the passenger seat as Seungkwan angrily grumbles under his breath. The radio is off, which isn’t a good sign, so Chan clears his throat, trying to ease some of the tension and hopefully make Seungkwan be the first to break the silence. 

It doesn’t work. Seungkwan doesn’t even spare him a glance which is fair. Saturday mornings are for errands and relaxing, not bailing your best friend out of jail. 

So, Chan tries. “Hyung—”

“Shut up,” Seungkwan snaps quickly, shaking his head, lips pressed together distastefully. “Not until we get home.”

“Okay,” Chan says with a nod, hands in his lap and staring out the dash window. 

The police station is a good twenty minutes from their apartment, which is already an inconvenience within itself, so Chan does as he’s told and keeps his mouth shut as they’re exiting the car. In the elevator, he says nothing, eyes casted straight ahead as he hums a song low in his throat while Seungkwan impatiently presses the button to their floor over and over like they aren’t already en route. 

Seungkwan barrels into the apartment with an attitude that makes Chan roll his eyes because… Really? It’s a bit dramatic—it wasn’t his fault. He’s sure he’ll get the chance to explain it eventually, right now he doesn’t want to risk pissing Seungkwan off even more. So, he stands awkwardly in the entrance before he’s regarded with a sigh. 

“Go take a shower, Chan.”

It’s easy to oblige. Chan goes into his room and gets his comfortable sweat pants and t-shirt before scurrying to the bathroom. He washes all the grime from the night before and the morning off, the rhinestones falling down the drain as he rids himself of all the regret of the last twenty-four hours. 

When he gets out of the shower, light headed and hungry, he beelines for the kitchen only to be followed by Seungkwan. Well, here it goes. 

“What the fuck, Chan?” 

There it is. 

“Please,” Chan starts. “Hear me out before you—”

“No,” Seungkwan says over him. “Because  this is low even for you, Chan.”

Chan clenches his teeth, jaw tight, damp and blond hair in his face as he heats up his ramyun. He’s been scolded enough times in the last year to know Seungkwan’s levels of disappointment, and this one is new. It’s more serious. “Yeah, I know, hyung.”

“You haven’t even said sorry,” Seungkwan says suddenly, eyebrows tight, a frustrated hand running through his light brown hair. The bags under his eyes are prominent, the lines in his frown amplified. 

Chan’s shoulders drop, exhaustion finally flooding him. “Hyung, I’m sorry. I am. I feel like shit already, okay? But you have to know that it wasn’t my fault!”

“Chan,” Seungkwan sighs. “I know it’s not your fault but… How many times have we warned you about—”

“I know, I know,” Chan says over him. After all, he does know. He knows exactly what Seungkwan is going to say. His exes tend to not have the back track record even though he’d like to think he has good taste and a good judge of character. More often than not, though, something shifts in the middle of the relationship and he’s left scrambling for excuses that he knows aren’t good enough. 

“Do you know, Chan?” Seungkwan snaps, fiery stare straight on him, unwavering. “Because first it was totaling a fucking car—”

“That wasn’t me—”

“—and then it was somehow ending up in California and then after that it was ending up in the fucking hospital and now jail? Chan, it’s—I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep helping you if you’re gonna end up putting yourself in situations like this.”

Chan can’t argue. It’s fair, the concern and anger is fair. Seungkwan doesn’t deserve to be the one rescuing Chan every single time. That’s not his responsibility. “I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, turning to properly face Seungkwan. “Really, hyung. I know, I’ll do better—make better choices. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Seungkwan sighs, pressing his lips together before pulling Chan into a warm hug. “I don’t want you to end up dead, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” There’s a pause as Seungkwan squeezes him. “And no more boyfriends for a while, yeah? Not until you get your own shit together.”

Chan laughs. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be a problem, don’t worry.”

✧

Chan gets back on his feet with ease. Jail was really the rock bottom—it wasn’t hard to set his goals on something other than that. Now, he’s four months single, working at a twenty-four hour diner as a waiter because he likes socializing, likes having hours that aren’t so consistent and gives him some freedoms throughout his week. Eventually, he’ll find something else, but for now he’s happy with this. 

Tonight, he’s picked up on a coworker’s late night to morning shift. It’s four in the morning, the sun still below the horizon with the winter air trapped outside. Chan cleans the wrap around bar, listening as his coworkers banter in the kitchen and the heater kicks on. Eventually, he runs out of things to keep himself occupied, the tables being vacant and no signs of customers yet. 

He’s called into the kitchen where Seokmin and Soonyoung are sitting a duet of some musical they’ve been obsessing over for these last few weeks. Chan is a helpless member of the two person audience consisting of him and the elder cook who is more than happy to indulge their little gags. 

The sound of the door chiming filters in after twenty minutes, Seokmin curiously peeking out the window to the kitchen before humming. 

“It’s that guy,” he says, mostly toward Soonyoung. 

Soonyoung seems to immediately know what he’s talking about, hurrying over to look, too. “Oh? He hasn’t been here in, what, four months? I wonder where he went.”

“Who are you talking about?” Chan asks after a beat when the cook gets up to start making some eggs before they can be ordered. He tries to squeeze himself between them to look, but falls short when the two don’t budge. “I wanna see,” he whines, finally getting their attention. 

“Go take his order, then,” Soonyoung urges. “And ask him what he’s been up to—we have a bet going on.”

Chan blinks. “A bet?”

“I think he’s a government agent,” Seokmin says proudly, nodding his head. “Hyung thinks he’s a stripper—”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“That’s because it is stupid.”

“You’re both stupid,” Chan says, getting his small notepad ready. “But I’ll try asking.”

Seokmin beams, kissing him on the cheek sloppily and ignoring Soonyoung’s protests about sanitary work conditions. “You’re the best, Channie! Win me this bet, yeah?”

Chan makes him an empty promise before pushing the door open and stopping right when the door closes behind his back. The customer is sitting by himself in one of the many red booths, his side profile all for Chan’s viewing; black hair pushed away from his face, ends caressing the nape of his neck, straight nose, dark eyes.  It doesn’t take him long to realize he recognizes him—it takes him an even shorter amount of time to realize where he recognizes him from. 

The chances of the man even remembering him are slim, but he still squares his shoulders and puts on a smile that he knows is pretty and treks for the man who is thumbing at the edge of the closed menu in front of him. Before Chan can say anything, the man is looking up,  attention directly on Chan, looking him up and down before blinking. 

“What can I get you?” Chan asks right as the man says, “I know you from somewhere.”

It happens suddenly, within a second, catching Chan off guard with a stuttering chest and tongue at the deepness of his voice. “Oh! It’s—I, um—it was—do you remember—”

The man smiles, his lips tilting up at the end in a way that makes him cute instead of stoically handsome. Though, he’s definitely still utterly handsome. “You had sunglasses in your hair,” he says, warm and heavy. “And lip balm in your hand. You were wearing silver.”

Chan blinks, letting out a laugh that comes out in a heavy breath instead. “Ah, you really remember.”

“Hard to forget a pretty face,” the man says, expression calm, unmoving, like he is mentioning the weather outside or something mundane that happened to him and not tilting Chan’s entire world on its axis. 

The blush that sparks in Chan’s cheeks is quick, the heat traveling across his face as he ducks down to hide it, trying to hide his smile. “Were you ready to order?”

The man nods, sliding the menu across the table until the edge pokes Chan in the thighs. “Just a coffee and a pancake meal.”

Chan scribbles it down on his notepad, the words practically unlegible. “Cool, I’ll make sure that—”

“I’m Wonwoo,” the man— Wonwoo— says over him. “Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Wonwoo,” Chan repeats, the name sweet on his tongue, sticking like honey. “I’m Lee Chan.”

Wonwoo extends a hand, looking up at Chan until he does the same, fingers brushing over each other until their hands are shaking delicately. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lee Chan,” he says, voice gentle, turning their hands over until Chan’s is facing down. Then, slowly and chastely, he presses a kiss to Chan’s knuckles before letting go. 

In the distance and over the blood rushing into his ears, can hear Seokmin and Soonyoung’s melding and muffled screams. He lets out a pathetic giggle, face burning red as he turns on his heel and rushes back into the kitchen where his friends are waiting for him with wide eyes and gaped mouths. 

“What the fuck, Chan?” Soonyoung says first. 

“What did you say to him?” Seokmin stammers out, grabbing Chan’s shoulders and shaking him. 

“Nothing!” Chan says. That’s the truth, he hadn’t really said much—only really asked him for his order and gave him his name. He’s just as confused, if not more. 

“There’s no way,” Soonyoung continues, words coming out quickly through pouted lips and a furrowed brow as he does his best to piece the events of the last five minutes together. “Every time he comes in he barely talks to us—”

“He orders a black coffee and that’s it,” Seokmin continues. “No small talk, no nothing. Though, he leaves huge tips which is nice but—Chan, what did you say?”

“Hyung,” Chan says, “I don’t know. He just—he just started talking to me.”

This seems to shut the two of them up, glances exchanged that Chan wishes he could understand but gives up. He shoulders past them, puts the order in and focuses on getting Wonwoo some coffee. 

He half expects their interactions to go back to the typical customer and service exchanges, but is surprised when he returns to the table with the coffee and Wonwoo smiles at him again, cocking his head toward the seating across from him. “Take a break, Chan-ah.”

“Oh, I can’t,” Chan says with a small laugh, pouring the black coffee into a white, porcelain mug that has a chip on the handle. “My manager would kill me.”

His manager is technically Soonyoung, which… He wouldn’t kill Chan, hell, he probably wouldn’t even notice his absence, but it feels a little wrong to sit and talk to a hot guy while his friends are stuck in the back. 

“If they have an issue, I’ll handle it,” Wonwoo says simply. It shouldn’t be as sexy as Chan finds it, but something twitches in his pants and he’s glancing over his shoulder, finds Seokmin and Soonyoung’s faces pressed against the small window to the kitchen door, and can’t find it in him to deny himself such a small luxury. 

They’ll be fine, there’s no customers. 

“Okay,” he agrees, sliding into the red seats across from Wonwoo and giving him a smile. “I guess I can keep you some company.”

Wonwoo smiles into the mug as he takes a sip, setting it down with a soft sound as he looks at Chan, tilts his head and flickers his gaze across Chan’s face. “I’m still trying to figure out how someone as beautiful as you ended up in a holding cell.”

It’s a valid question, but Chan can’t help but feel sort of embarrassed. Though, he really shouldn’t be—after all, that’s pretty much where they met. Not only that, but Wonwoo was handcuffed, for fucks sake. There’s no room for embarrassment. “It’s—ah… My ex kind of fucked me over and I ended up dealing with the consequences.”

Wonwoo hums. “That’s why he’s an ex, right?”

“Right,” Chan nods with a small laugh. “What about you? I feel like you’re not one to get yourself into any sort of trouble.”

Wonwoo smiles to himself, eyes focused on a scratch in the table that he picks at. “It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.” 

He doesn’t clarify or expand on that and Chan doesn’t push it. It really isn’t any of his business anyway, but he can’t help but tease a little. “You’re very vague, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo sits back, opening his arms the slightest bit like he’s inviting Chan in. “For you, I’m an open book.”

“For me?”

“Just for you.”

Chan breathes out a laugh. “Alright, then. What do you do for work?”

There’s a beat of silence. “I work in finance.” 

“Finance,” Chan repeats. That’s a good job, a good reliable job unlike the ones a majority of his exes had. “Do you like it?”

“It pays the bills,” Wonwoo shrugs. 

And he has bills to pay. 

Fuck it. “What’s the likelihood of you ending up in jail again?”

“Not likely,” Wonwoo says confidently. 

Chan smiles. “Are you free in two hours?”

Wonwoo grins. “I can make time.”

✧

Dating Wonwoo is different from every other relationship Chan has been in. He’s mature, smart, reliable. There’s no room for petty arguments, no time for stupid questions or games. Wonwoo is honest, prides himself in communication and making sure that they’re both on the same page. He puts Chan first, practically worships the ground he walks on, always has time for him or makes time for him even with his busy schedule. 

He’s hot and great in bed and everything Chan has ever wanted in a boyfriend. It’s a no-brainer—he should probably introduce him to Seungkwan before they hit six months of dating. 

He mentions the idea to Wonwoo during dinner one night, the two of them sitting at the glass dining table in Wonwoo’s large penthouse. (That’s another thing—he’s fucking rich.)

“I think we should tell Seungkwan,” he says as Wonwoo pours him some wine before bending down to kiss Chan’s head sweetly and going back to his own chair, scooting in and smoothing down his white button up. It’s almost embarrassing how much Chan wants him. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, baby,” Wonwoo says because he’s an angel and nothing less. He’s aware of Chan’s hesitance with introducing him to Seungkwan—he wants to be honest about how they met. So, he’s done his best to make sure that Wonwoo isn’t going to embarrass him like the other guys he’s brought around, and it’s been good so far. Great, even. Seungkwan will like Wonwoo. Chan won’t have to lie anymore about where he’s been spending a majority of his nights after his shifts. 

“I want to tell Seungkwan,” Chan says confidently this time. 

Wonwoo smiles, reaching over to hold Chan’s hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss at his knuckles before pressing it against his warm cheek. “Then let’s tell him.”

✧

It shouldn’t really be a surprise that Chan’s luck runs out again. 

On the night before Chan is planning to tell Seungkwan about his and Wonwoo’s relationship, he’s woken up in Wonwoo’s bed to the sound of his cell phone vibrating. The empty space next to him isn’t surprising—Wonwoo’s hours are hectic and all over the place, he warned Chan about this before they even started dating. What’s concerning is the unknown number calling, the automated voice speaking to him when he answers it and informs him that the call is coming from the local jail. 

Wonwoo’s voice sounds in his ear, crackled and slightly muffled. “Hey, baby.”

Chan sits up, trying to run the sleep from his eyes as the sheets pool around his waist. “Wonwoo hyung? What—where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,”  Wonwoo answers. “Just got into another little misunderstanding—but I’m fine. Just need you to come pick me up, if you can.”

“Yeah, yeah of course I can,” Chan says quickly, already standing up, pulling on a pair of pants thrown on the floor from the night before and scrambling to find a shirt. “But I don’t—”

“Spare keys are on my side of the bed,” he explains gently. “There’s also cash in the safe in the closet—the combination is your birthday. Bring two stacks.”

“Okay, yeah,” Chan mumbles, finding one of Wonwoo’s nice, white button ups and throwing it on, not caring to button it. “I’ll be there soon, hyung.”

“Don’t rush,” Wonwoo says way too calmly for someone who’s in fucking jail again. “Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Yeah, love you,” Chan says quickly, hanging up. There’s a moment of silence before he’s stomping his foot like a petulant child, throwing his phone onto the floor and clenching his fists, head tossed back as he screams, “FUCK! Fuck , goddamn it— what the fuck.”

Every single thought of introducing Wonwoo and Seungkwan is thrown out the window as Chan hurries to grab his wallet, the keys to Wonwoo’s black and vintage car, and the bundles of cash from the safe. Within ten minutes, he’s driving to the jail with every emotion under the sun racing through his mind and a handful of curses on his tongue. 

When he arrives, he’s a shaking mess, tears threatening to spill over his lash line from annoyance and anger instead of sadness. He thought Wonwoo was different, that Wonwoo was one of the good ones. Maybe he still is and this is all a misunderstanding, but— God. Of course this would happen to Chan. 

Somehow, he manages to bail Wonwoo out, clumsily shoving the bills into the depositing box and earning a weird look from the officer helping. “Thank you, sir. You can wait for him outside,” he’s told, and as he turns he hears another name called. “Mr. Yoon Jeonghan, are you ready?”

A man stands up dressed in a black shirt that shows his bare shoulders and collar bones, black jeans and heeled boots that make his legs look like they go on for miles. He’s pretty, standing straight with dark and wavy hair tucked behind his ears, a fringe decorating his forehead and enhancing his pretty features. He walks around Chan, sliding a piece of paper that looks like a check into the depositing box. 

“Thank you, sir. If you would just—”

“Wait for him outside,” Yoon Jeonghan finishes with a close lipped smile that is too sweet to be genuine. “I know the drill, thanks.”

Somehow, he and Jeonghan fall into step as they make their way outside and toward the gates. 

He looks over at Chan with a chuckle. “First time?”

Chan looks over at him, wiping the tears from his eyes. “What?”

“First time bailing them out?” Jeonghan asks again. 

Chan’s eyes widen the slightest bit, feeling somewhat exposed as the sun begins to rise. “How did you—?”

“You look like a mess,” Jeonghan says, looking down at Chan’s unbuttoned shirt with an amused grin. The gate buzzes and unlatches, slowly sliding open. “I was the same. You get used to it.”

He takes a step forward as the gate disappears, an officer gesturing toward Jeonghan and a man with brown eyes and black hair and naturally pouted lips steps out, the pout curving into a smile upon seeing Jeonghan. 

“That’s my Cheollie,” Jeonghan says, giving Chan a wink. “Copper concentrate works great on any jammed fingers or painful bruises. Good luck.”

With that, Jeonghan is intertwining his and Cheollie’s fingers, walking away toward a sports car parked next to Wonwoo’s classic 1957 Ford Thunderbird. Chan stands there, somehow feeling less alone than before. The gate buzzes again, pulling Chan’s attention back as it begins to open again. 

This time, it’s Wonwoo stepping out. His black t-shirt has a hole on the side, exposing a cut on his rib and the soft skin that surrounds it. He’s holding a small, black bag in his hand that is thrown over his shoulder nonchalantly. His hair is tousled, a wavy strand hanging in his face as he smiles at Chan, long legs clad in black pants walking confidently toward him. It’s hard to be angry, especially when Wonwoo nears him, dips down to kiss Chan until he’s on his tiptoes feeling lighter than before. 

“Is that my shirt?” Wonwoo whispers, pressing their foreheads together. 

Chan huffs out a laugh, looking up at Wonwoo. “I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to pick a better outfit.”

Wonwoo’s hand moves from his waist slowly, warm palm slipping into the unbuttoned shirt with ease, his palm pressed against Chan’s ribs, his thumb rubbing at the skin. “You look stunning.”

It’s easy for Chan to melt as Wonwoo kisses him again.

✧

They don’t talk much about the arrest. Wonwoo assures him that it isn’t on his record and that it truly was just a misunderstanding when they get back to the penthouse. He offers to order them dinner and give Chan a massage as an apology for stressing him out. Chan scowls, slapping his chest and pointing a finger in his face. 

“Yah! I can’t have you doing this, hyung. I want to introduce you to my friends but I can’t if I have to explain that you have a thing for getting arrested. I’ve been embarrassed enough—please don’t fuck this up.”

Wonwoo nods understandingly, a silence settling before he drops to his knees in front of Chan, hands holding the back of his thighs as he looks up, the kitchen lighting making his eyes glimmer. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby. I promise, I’ll be good to you. Good for you.”

Chan swallows heavily, mouth dry as he takes in the sight of Wonwoo in front of him. He grabs Wonwoo’s chin in his hand, squeezing the skin there slightly. “Please don’t fucking embarrass me,” he whispers. 

Wonwoo kisses his palm. “Never, Chan-ah.”

✧

The sun is setting, an orange and pink glow casted down on the city and the warm, early summer air whipping through Chan’s hair as he sticks his head out the passenger window, face tilted up into the remainder of the sun. From beside him, Wonwoo sings along to the radio, his voice dripping like honey and sticking to Chan. They drive until they’re near a cliff overlooking the city, the cars rushing past each other in the distance, people walking and weaving through one another. They sit on the hood of the car, Wonwoo between Chan’s legs, his head thrown back onto Chan’s shoulder as they wait for the sun to disappear beneath the horizon. The quietness reminds Chan that there is time to slow down, time to appreciate things. 

Wonwoo tilts his chin up, kisses where he can reach which is just beneath Chan’s jaw. “You’re heaven-sent.”

Chan smiles sweetly, craning his neck down to properly slot their lips together. It doesn’t take long before they’re lazily making out, Chan draped over Wonwoo as they lay on their sizes, the stars almost visible, the city lights illuminating the distance. Wonwoo’s hand is cradling Chan’s face, his thumb gently caressing the skin below his ear, his fingers threaded at the blond hairs at the nape of Chan’s neck. It’s easy to get lost in this, in the way Wonwoo handles him so carefully, so tenderly—coaxing Chan’s mouth open to lick into his mouth. The minutes bleed together, seconds practically becoming nonexistent as they bask in the luxury of this, of—

The moment is interrupted by the obnoxious ringing of Wonwoo’s work phone. He pulls away abruptly, grabbing it from his pocket and groaning under his breath. Chan grabs his collar, pulling him back into another kiss that lands on his cheek instead as Wonwoo turns his head. 

“Hyung,” Chan whines, lips pink and swollen. “Can’t this wait?”

“It can’t, baby, I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says, sounding like he’s genuinely pained. He presses a kiss to Chan’s forehead quickly before getting up and answering the call, his black shirt still hiked up his toned abdomen as he walks several feet away from the car, his voice low and quiet, hand on his hip as he paces back and forth. Chan watches from the hood, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on the bones, waiting for Wonwoo to come back with bad news. 

As expected, Wonwoo hangs up, throwing his head back in annoyance and giving Chan a look that has a million apologies painted across it. “Baby—”

“It’s fine,” Chan sighs, pushing himself up and off the hood. “It’s just… I was having a good time.”

Wonwoo presses his lips together, hugging Chan, resting his chin on his head. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I am.”

Chan squishes his cheek into Wonwoo’s pec, enjoying the warmth for what it is before Wonwoo disappears for a few hours. “I just wish I could go with you.”

Wonwoo’s hands still from where they were rubbing at Chan’s back. “Do…  Do you want to?”

Chan blinks. “Can I?”

Wonwoo runs a hand through Chan’s blond hair, making him tilt his head back, and smiles. “Let’s go.”

✧

Chan has never really thought too much about Wonwoo’s job. Finance isn’t that interesting, but he’d never say that to his boyfriend’s face. That doesn’t matter right now, though, because everything he vaguely imaged about Wonwoo’s job is thrown out the window when he parks in a dingy parking lot, a restaurant that looks like it’s seen better days starting back at them with its neon, flickering OPEN sign. 

“This is your office?” Chan asks dumbly, hoping that Wonwoo will throw him a bone and just tell him what sort of business they have being here. 

Wonwoo chuckles. “Office? Yeah, sure. In a way.” He turns his body and grabs a pair of black and leather gloves, putting them on and pushing his hair out of his face as he turns again to grab a manila folder that he opens up, thumbing through it before he looks up at Chan. “Can you get my stuff from the glovebox?”

“Stuff?” Chan repeats in a mumble, opening the glovebox and immediately slamming it closed, almost choking on his own saliva in panic. “Hyung—hyung there’s a fucking gun in there.”

Wonwoo looks over at him with a calm expression and a raised brow. “Yeah, baby. I know. Can you load it for me, please?”

“L-load it,” Chan whispers to himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to load a gun.”

“That’s okay,” Wonwoo says with a small hum, reaching over to open the glovebox and grab it, loading it himself casually. “Ready?”

At this point, Chan is sure this is some sort of hyper realistic dream. He gets out and follows Wonwoo into the restaurant, trying not to think about how it’s sort of cute when Wonwoo reaches behind him to hold Chan’s hand on the way in, his other hand occupied holding the black bag he takes with him everywhere. They go behind the front register, Wonwoo regards the man sitting there with a nod and pulls Chan along with him into the back kitchen where workers bustle around in the humidity and smell of savory foods. Chan whips his head in every direction, taking in the surroundings, the dirty floors, the chopped vegetables scraps crunching beneath his feet as he tries to step over them when Wonwoo pushes another door open, leading into a small hallway with stairs. There are no questions and no explanations. They’re descending and Chan is trying to figure out when he should say something.

There are several men waiting in the basement, a few at a poker table crammed into the corner, one smoking a cigar as he counts bundles of cash, two others are standing in front of a TV with a soccer game playing, cigarettes hanging from their lips and smoke filling the air. They all collectively turn their attention to Wonwoo and Chan, the one counting the money stands up abruptly, clumsily grabbing his cigar before it falls out of his mouth. 

“Wait right here, baby,” Wonwoo tells Chan gently pinching  his chin with his thumb and pointer finger before stepping toward the guy. 

“You’re—you’re early,” he says with a cough to punctuate his sentence. “We still have—”

“Your extension was denied,” Wonwoo says calmly. “They’re asking for the payment in full.”

“We can’t—”

“And I’m here to collect it,” Wonwoo informs. “If that’s an issue, please let me know.”

Chan watches with a baited breath as everything begins to unravel. The two playing poker shoot up, charging at Wonwoo. Before Chan can scream in some sort of warning, Wonwoo is ducking, a punch sent into the first one’s stomach, leaving him scrambling on the floor while the other one manages to get a good hit to Wonwoo’s cheekbone, the skin just below his eye splitting open the slightest bit. It’s forgotten the moment it happens, Wonwoo drives an elbow into their skull, rendering them unconscious just as two more men come at him. It’s a blur of flying fists, Chan watching with flinches and wide eyes as he backs into the wall near the stairs, trying to make himself smaller, hoping that he’ll eventually wake up because this is not what financing is supposed to look like.

He only speaks when Wonwoo is straightening up from where he was hunched over, blood on his split lip and trailing down his cheek, hair disheveled as he breathes heavily, taking his gun out from the back of his waistband and pointing it at the first man who is still standing, cigar abandoned on the floor, hands shaking. 

“Hyung, what the fuck?” Chan whispers, loud enough for Wonwoo to turn, confused. “What are you doing? This—this isn’t—I thought you worked in finance.”

“This is finance,” Wonwoo says like that explains everything. “Or, well. I guess you’re right,  debt collector would be a better term. I only do it for a few gangs around Seoul, nothing too crazy.”

“You—you what?”

Wonwoo blinks, gun still raised. “I thought you knew.”

“I—How the fuck was I supposed to know that this is what you do?!” Chan screams, hysterical. 

“Cops are on their way,” the man says suddenly, getting Wonwoo’s attention. “I would suggest leaving now.”

“Not without the money,” Wonwoo says calmly, kicking the black bag toward him and stepping forward and pressing the barrel of the gun against his forehead. “I told my boyfriend I’d get better at not getting arrested—don’t make me break that fucking promise.”

The man presses his trembling lips together before cursing, throwing an absurd amount of money into the black bag. Wonwoo dips down to grab the bag without a word, giving Chan a sweet smile as he slots the gun back into his waistband, intertwining their fingers and leading them up and out. 

By the time they’re in the car, the blood on Wonwoo’s face has dried. He doesn’t say anything as Wonwoo drives off, the silence thick between them, a red stop light bleeding into the car as it comes to a stop. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Wonwoo says suddenly, leaning back against the headrest, lazily turning to look at Chan. “I really thought you knew.”

“How could I have known?” Chan asks genuinely. Had he missed something—? Yeah, probably. Of course he did. It’s not the first time he’s been a little stupid in love. 

“You… I thought that when we first talked, you understood,” Wonwoo explains. “Or, maybe I assumed since you said you had exes that fucked you over—ah, I don’t know. I should’ve been forward.”

“Yeah,” Chan agrees. “Hyung, this is dangerous—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Wonwoo says softly, the light turning green and bathing him in the cool tone. “If it makes you feel better, they can’t kill me.”

Chan blinks. “They… They can’t?”

“It would cause a lot of issues,” he explains vaguely. “I’m… valuable to a lot of people.”

“So, you’re important,” Chan says slowly, trying to make sense of it all.

“In a way,” Wonwoo nods. 

Chan pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, fingers fidgeting on his lap. “And if I told you to stop?”

Wonwoo lets out a breath, lips pressed together as he shakes his head softly. “I can’t, Chan. I love you so much and it would fucking kill me if I had to choose, but I—it’s not something I can just walk away from.”

Chan takes in Wonwoo’s expression, all his features pulled together in a way that looks almost pained at the thought of them breaking up. He can feel the sharpness in his chest, the way it hurts to swallow if he thinks about it for too long, too. “Okay,” he says. 

Wonwoo snaps his head to look at him. “Okay?”

Chan nods. “Okay.”

✧

The gate buzzes, sliding open slowly as Chan leans against the hood of the car, rolling his eyes when Wonwoo comes into view, the police officer behind him looking less than impressed. He has that stupid black bag hanging from his fingertips, a smile peeking at the corner of his mouth as his long strides lead him to Chan, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. 

“Missed me?”

Chan can’t help the laugh that erupts from his chest as he slaps Wonwoo’s chest. “Don’t fucking start. I’m a little pissed.”

Wonwoo noses at his cheek before catching Chan’s lips in a soft, slow kiss. They part with a small sound, Wonwoo’s dark eyes on his, gaze flickering back and forth between his eyes. “Last time, alright?”

Chan smiles, knowing that’s not a promise, but somehow not minding. “Alright.”

✧

The next time it happens, they’re at an arcade. 

It was Wonwoo’s idea—they haven’t gone on a date in a while, Chan too terrified to leave the comfort of indoors especially when Wonwoo is… Well, he’s pissed off a lot of people. All it takes is being spotted in public and a quick phone call for him to be handcuffed and taken for days or, even worse, weeks. Months, possibly, but Wonwoo has told him that’s only happened twice. 

(Still, he tries to convince him to stay home before they leave. 

“What if we stayed, there’s so much to do! We can… We can stare at your cool, new ceiling fan!”

“Chan, baby. It’s not new.”

“It’s not? Oh, then… We can appreciate it.”

“Chan.”

Fuck. “Fine.”)

 Chan lets his guard down for one night, lets Wonwoo take him to a big arcade with blue and green lights after they have a nice dinner at Wonwoo’s favorite restaurant. With every version of Mortal Kombat at their fingertips, it’s easy for Chan to lose himself in the evening. Wonwoo is having fun, too, laughing every time Chan manages to beat him with some cheap move, kissing him every time they move onto a new game. They go outside for a little while to enjoy the fresh air and share a cigarette, Wonwoo happily letting Chan cling onto him when they go back inside in search of another game to play. 

He doesn’t notice the policeman come in until he hears Wonwoo curse under his breath, grabbing Chan’s face in his hands and pressing their lips together feverishly without a warning and quickly pushing his car keys into Chan’s hand. 

“Stay at the penthouse for as long as you want,” he says, kissing Chan’s cheek. “I love you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chan says as the policeman takes his handcuffs out and starts to lock them around Wonwoo’s wrists without a warning, like this had already been discussed beforehand. “Really, hyung? Right now?”

Wonwoo gives him a forced smile and Chan sighs, hands clutching Wonwoo’s collar to give him one more kiss before he’s being pried away. 

Chan watches him be pulled out of the arcade, Wonwoo’s leather jacket draped on his shoulders. 

✧

“You embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Chan rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses, barely able to catch his reflection in the glass separating him and Wonwoo. The scarf wrapped around his head had definitely been a choice—he didn’t need to risk someone from his personal life seeing him here talking to an inmate. An inmate that’s his boyfriend that he somehow still loves more than life itself. “A little,” he says bluntly, tilting his head to the side cutely, the black phone against his ear hitting his shoulder. “Beige isn’t your color, hyung.”

Wonwoo looks down at himself with a laugh, his black hair tousled in a way that makes him look all the more handsome. He has glasses on—no contacts being allowed in his cell. Chan hates what it does to him, how much it makes him want to shatter the glass between them. “No, right? It washes me out.”

“You should stop ending up here, then.”

Wonwoo hums in agreement, his eyes flickering up and down as he looks at Chan. “It really isn’t fair how pretty you are.”

Chan snorts. “That’s what you wanna talk about?”

Wonwoo’s lips twitch into a smile, his hand coming up, palm pressing into the glass. “I wish I could touch you, Chan-ah.”

Chan melts, hand coming up to mirror Wonwoo’s, the coldness a vast difference from how he imagines his boyfriend’s skin would feel. “How long until you can?”

“Two months,” Wonwoo says. “Minor charge. I can get my record cleared before I’m out, though.”

“That’s a long time,” Chan frowns. 

“It could be longer,” Wonwoo says like that somehow helps. 

“If you’re ever here for more than a year, we’re breaking up,” Chan warns. He has his limits, too.

Wonwoo shakes his head with a chuckle. “They can’t keep me here for over four months.”

“Legally?”

“No,” Wonwoo says. “It just wouldn’t be in their best interest.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “Is that something I can ask about?”

“Legally?”  Wonwoo whispers, leaning closer. “No.”

Chan laughs, loud and sudden, gaining looks from the officers and people also visiting. He finds himself not caring. 

✧

With Wonwoo locked up, Chan finds himself in his and Seungkwan’s apartment more often than not. It’s nice—he’s missed Seungkwan, has only seen him in passing or for the few hours that he’s at home before one of them has to go back to work. 

“I feel like I never see you anymore,” Seungkwan says suddenly from where he’s sitting on the other end of the sofa, eating a bowl of cereal. 

Chan pauses, fingers picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. “I’ve been… I’ve been seeing someone,” he finds himself admitting, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. 

Seungkwan’s chewing stills, his eyes widening slightly before he’s schooling his expression. “Oh? That’s…” He sighs, dropping his spoon into the milk. “He better be a good guy, Chan, or I swear to God—”

“He’s great, hyung,” Chan says honestly because Wonwoo is a good guy. He treats Chan better than he’s ever been treated in his life, he loves with his whole heart and being. It’s more than Chan deserves, but he selfishly wants to keep it to himself until he dies. “We’ve been together for ten months and he’s been really good to me. I haven’t gotten into any trouble, hyung—shouldn’t that mean something?”

Seungkwan gapes. “Ten months? Wow, that’s the longest you’ve been with someone, Chan. And yeah—yeah I’ve noticed that you’ve had your head on your shoulders. It’s—he must be really good for you.”

“He is,” Chan says. “And I want you to meet him.”

“Oh— now?” 

“No,” Chan says. “In a month.”

“Weird time frame,” Seungkwan says with a frown before he shrugs. “But, okay, yeah. If that’s when you’re ready, I’d be happy to meet him. What’s his name?”

Chan smiles. “Jeon Wonwoo.”

✧

“Here for Jeon Wonwoo.”

The officer blinks at Chan—he must recognize him by now—and points toward where his car is parked. “Go wait.”

Chan beams, turning on his heel with a bounce in his step as he sits against the hood of the car, leaning back on his hands and waiting patiently for the melody that is the gate buzzer. 

And like a symphony coming home, Wonwoo comes out from the door exiting the jail, the gate opening with a buzz and an officer behind him to make sure he’s going where he’s supposed to. 

Chan straightens up, looking up as Wonwoo comes in front of him, leaning down to kiss him only for Chan to roll his eyes and push off the hood. “I’m driving this time.”

Wonwoo smiles to himself, hurrying to open the driver’s side door for Chan. “As you wish, my love.”

✧

A week after Wonwoo gets released, Chan wakes up in his California king bed to the front door shutting and a bag dropping on the floor. He rubs at his eyes as his legs swing over the edge of the bed, bare feet padding against the wooden floors as he goes into the living room where Wonwoo is stripping his bloodied shirt in the dimness offered from a single lamp turned on. 

“Rough one?” Chan asks in the silence, startling Wonwoo and taking in the sight of him shirtless in only pants and messy hair hanging on his blood-crusted face. 

“Go back to bed, baby,” Wonwoo says in the same soft tone that is directed at Chan and only Chan. 

Chan ignores him and treads into the kitchen, digging through the medicine cabinet before finding the concoction he made a few months ago. “Come here,” he calls and Wonwoo obliges, leaning against the counter. “Where’d they get you?”

Wonwoo holds out his hand, shaking from adrenaline, knuckles bloodied and bruised and his middle finger slightly swollen and red. “They put up a good fight,” he says as Chan starts to apply the substance to the areas. “Where’d you learn about copper concentrate?”

“A friend,” Chan says quietly, focusing on wrapping Wonwoo’s hand up. He looks over Wonwoo for any other places that show signs of bruising and finds a particularly red and tender area just below his ribs. “They’re gonna break your bones one day.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Wouldn’t let them, sweetheart.”

“So chivalrous,” Chan chuckles, putting the items away and getting a bag of frozen corn from the freezer, pushing it against the cut on Wonwoo’s forehead, their gazes meeting in the middle, tender and private. 

Wonwoo reaches up to run his fingers through Chan’s blond hair, a small smile playing at his lips as he does so, like there’s no place he’d rather be than battered and beaten in a kitchen with corn on his head. “I love you,” he says, open and honest. 

Chan smiles back. “I love you.” A pause settles as Wonwoo continues to play with his hair. “How do you feel about meeting Seungkwan for dinner tomorrow?”

“I have nothing planned,” Wonwoo says without missing a beat. “I’d be honored to meet him if you’d let me.”

Chan pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods. “I think it’s finally time.”

Wonwoo dips down to press their lips together chastely. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t embarrass me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

✧

It’s Seungkwan’s idea to meet at a bar. Chan agrees easily because it’s normally busy and loud and according to Wonwoo, he hasn’t pissed anyone off recently. Chan takes his word for it and tries not to be nervous about this more than he is. It helps that he realizes the only reason Seungkwan chose this bar is because of the bartender named Hansol that he’s mentioned more than once since choosing where to meet up. They’ll talk about that later—Chan makes sure to remember. 

Seungkwan is obviously surprised when he sees Wonwoo, standing up from where he was sitting at the small table already prepped with beers to clumsily shake his hand, stammering over his words. “Oh! You’re—wow, I mean… Chan only ever mentioned you, I didn’t even get to picture what you’d look like, but even if I did this… This is good—”

“Hyung,” Chan says loudly to save him from whatever the hell is going to tumble out of his mouth next. 

Seungkwan apologizes, sending Chan a look with raised eyebrows as he mouths he’s hot before sitting down and composing himself. “Sorry, it’s just nice to finally meet you. I know you’ve been keeping this private, so I’m grateful that you both wanted to tell me.”

Wonwoo smiles, nodding as Seungkwan speaks. “Chan wanted to make sure I was worth keeping around, I just hope I can prove that I’m worth it to you as well.”

“So polite,” Seungkwan mumbles in shock before shaking his head and coming back with a smile. “You’re doing great so far. I mean, Chan’s track record isn’t the best so—”

“Hyung,” Chan warns again through clenched teeth. Maybe it’s not Wonwoo he has to worry about embarrassing him. 

“Sorry,” Seungkwan says although he doesn’t sound all that sorry. “Enough about Chan—Wonwoo, what do you do for work?” 

Wonwoo and Chan exchange a look. 

Wonwoo takes a sip of his beer and smiles at Seungkwan. “I work in finance.”