Archive of Our Own

In a high end restaurant in the risky part of town one young man sat amiably at a bar. From this position he watched all who entered and all who dined. The clear yellow shine of the glittering chandelier lights bathed everyone in a way that brought the atmosphere to its own personal feeling of comfort. Here in their best dinner coats and evening blouses was the time for all to eat in a knowing spirit those who entered knew what those who did not could never. Large rocks on fingers and ears, silk clothes on fronts and backs, expensive cars purring for them as they left were the only obvious signs of the secret that they all silently smirked over. This was true for the past 7 years until today. 

In an embarrassed shuffle enters what the young man could only describe as the Lovely Thing. He had never seen them before, and their cool forced attitude was something that captivated him, but had not disturbed the collective arrogance. The Lovely Thing made its way opposite him, and when they made very pointed, unembarrassed eye contact, the Lovely Thing waved. Having rarely dealt with something so comical in quite some time, the young man furrowed his brows and called someone over. 

“Wonwoo, would you go over and see about—”

“Wonwoo!” Shouted the Lovely Thing before he could finish.

Tall, distinctly sharp, and rather ghostly, Wonwoo made his way over. His usually hard complex was replaced by a sudden frantic embarrassment. Much like a parent becomes when their child begins to cry in public, he moves cordially and with hurry. A friendly argument breaks out, and after a few glances to the young man they walk together out the door. The clandestine atmosphere grows rather severe when the first to notice the young man’s change in humor spreads the message like a cruel game of telephone. Minutes later Wonwoo returns with no sign of the Lovely Thing. 

When he walks toward him casually, a silence builds. “Who was that?”

“Oh—nobody.” he responds quickly. 

The young man frowns. “Doesn’t seem like nobody.”

“Just an old friend that recently came back to town.” Their gazes seem unable to stick on each other for longer than a moment. “I told him I work here, but he must not have taken my warning on coming very seriously. I had him sent home.” 

The conversation ends here. One was reluctant and the other felt embarrassingly stirred by something that could have occupied no more than three minutes of his long life. Brushing the feeling away he went back to observing and obliging the concerted environment. This Lovely Thing would haunt him for days, appearing in his memory in sudden moments of thoughtlessness and materializing illusions of reappearance when he would nod off. Finally, a month later to the day in again came the Lovely Thing. This time he appeared dressed appropriately for the occasion and strode confidently over to the young man.

“Hello,” the Lovely Thing began. “You’re the boss, right?”

His heart jumped. “Well—Yes.” He couldn’t recall a time when he tripped over his words as he did now. “You can call me Jihoon.” 

“Well, Jihoon.” The Lovely Thing brightened. The room seemed to as well.  “My name’s Soonyoung, and I’m looking for a friend.” 

Jihoon was silent. There were many ways that this conversation could take place, and of them all he never assumed the least likely to be it.

“You may know him? Wonwoo? You spoke with him last time I was here.” He looked about for a moment, but not finding what he wanted he switched his weight impatiently. “I have some good news and

I wanted to surprise him with a meal. I hope that isn’t much of a bother.” 

Jihoon opened his mouth hopelessly. He’d never met someone so uselessly brash and charming. He felt pliable and friendly toward this stranger for the first time in his life. “Why, no, not at all.” 

“You’re so sweet.” Soonyoung sat down beside him. “Don’t tell him I told you, but he gave the impression that you were a real hard-ass.” 

Jihoon’s mouth went up in a little half smirk. This was one of the better insults he’s heard. He called a waiter over with a sharp whistle and sent for Wonwoo. Soonyoung turned to him. Now that he looked at him directly it was very easy to see the unmarred childishness of someone so entirely pink. His short black hair sat neatly on his head and shone in the warm light as if it were attracted to him.

He wore his stiff clothes with a blatant boredom but it only seemed to add to his character. He cleared his throat and put on an obviously practiced coy persona. 

“Now, Mr—Jihoon. It was a rather sudden thought, so I didn’t have time to check if there needed to be a reservation or if I could even get us a spot on such short notice.” his brown eyes were large and falsely pleading. The whole look came off superfluous, but his small pout and slow blinking turned his face cherubic. Jihoon walked off wordlessly. 

Moments later a rather flustered couple were bidding their farewells to those they walked past and then finally, with respect, to Jihoon. He sat back down. “It’s been handled.” 

Soonyoung makes a surprised little squeal. “Mr. Jihoon! Do I know you from somewhere? Did Wonwoo tell you anything of me? Put you up to this?” 

Jihoon suddenly finds the chandeliers very interesting. “No.” 

“Never had I met a restaurant owner so sweet. I don’t have any money to donate! No public following to get the word around. Are you this nice to everyone? I could never return the favor.” His tone was a little despaired. He seemed genuine. 

Wonwoo appeared. “Soonyoung!” he exclaimed, furious. “What did I tell you?” 

Soonyoung crossed his arms guilelessly. “And to think I was doing something so chivalrous. Mr. Jihoon–Oh, Mr. Jihoon, tell him!”

Jihoon looked back at Wonwoo and their incredulous expressions were cause of different reasons. Jihoon looked away. “Table 12 is open for you.” 

“I know what you said, but it seemed just fine. I took a cab straight here and everything. Now I’ve got something grand to tell you and I want to do it over a nice meal.” 
They walked together, but Wonwoo’s gaze at Jihoon did not cease until they were out of his line of sight. Jihoon looked on to them with an enigmatic feeling of terrible jealousy, but when he was pulled away for business the matter was decided to be settled at a later time. 

This did not take long. He became very restless the moment he had Wonwoo alone, and the feeling was apparently mutual. In the empty kitchen their intense silence seemed to echo off the shiny silver equipment like it was waiting desperately for someone to catch it. Jihoon decided it would be best if he expressed his intentions. Unfortunately, Wonwoo spoke before he could. 

“What was that?” 

“What?” Jihoon asked, suddenly defensive.

“Soonyoung shows up and you let him sit next to you and get him a table and—you told him your name.” 

“I always do that.” He says dismissively.

“No, you don’t.” 

“You said he was a friend of yours. I can pull strings for friends of friends.” 

They stared coldly at each other though neither was sure exactly why. Eventually they wordlessly reconciled, and walked in comfortable silence as the lights were shut off and the doors were locked. 

“I appreciate your hospitality, but I really don’t want him getting hurt. He’s like a brother to me.”

Jihoon felt suddenly ecstatic. He walked with his hands in his pockets and looked seriously at Wonwoo through the dull moonshine. Their pale complexions were very handsome and dark.

Jihoon nodded. “Would you express my interest in—having a meal with him?” 

Wonwoo laughed hysterically and opened the door to his car. “Absolutely not.” 

Despite the finality of Wonwoo's answer there was no avoiding the eventual dinner to come between them. Never imagining someone so persistently ignorant to a friend's headings, just one week later Soonyoung appeared at the front door and walked directly to Jihoon. `

"You know," he began. There was something to his normally puerile attitude that felt off. Jihoon's heart began to race. "I quite liked the food here." 

Jihoon was confused. "Well, thank you. I try to hire the best." 

"No, you see—I'm free now. And I quite like the food here."

This did not help Jihoon's confusion. He considered calling Wonwoo, who happened to be off today.

Soonyoung huffed. "Mr. Jihoon. I'm unsubtly trying to get you to ask me for dinner." 

Jihoon blanched. "Oh! Well—certainly I'd love to. I mean—Would you like to join me later for dinner?—I mean now." 

“Well, I thought you’d never ask..!” he watched very closely as Jihoon stood from where he was. Slowly Jihoon felt other eyes on him, then more, until eventually it was apparent that the entire room had faced their way and witnessed someone that was not in on the collective surreptitious phenomena hold the arm of the one who created it. A sudden rustle began. 

Soonyoung had not noticed, he had not even cared. “Now I only had one thing, and it was the second most expensive but I trust that all food here must be up to that par.” 

Jihoon looked at him. There was no acted nonchalance, no self-consciousness to his walk, he was genuinely uncaring of the sudden attention. He attempted to follow. 

“I know what you must think, ‘I give him a free table and a free meal and he chooses only the second most expensive thing on the menu? What could he have possibly been saving the most for?’” he looked to Jihoon expectantly and paused. “The moment you told me your name I just knew I had to save it for you.” 

“Save it for me?” 

“Of course, I want you to see my reaction.” he paused again, this time holding a smile, then continued: “And show my gratitude by paying.”

This made Jihoon a little disappointed. Had this all been in good manners? Just an obliging meal between a customer that felt indebted. He took only a small portion of rice and soup. 

“Unless…” he trailed off as if it were a question. 

The words nearly came out as a shout. “Why, I’d love to pay for your meal again.” 

Soonyoung blushed. It felt a little disingenuous but Jihoon hadn’t cared, he pretended not to notice. “I’d imagine you say that to all the pretty faces that send a smile your way.” 
Jihoon had never said those words in that sentence ever once in his 14 years of owning this restaurant. It was foreign and troubling as much as it was natural and impulsive. They sat for what felt like hours, while in reality it had been no more than 70 minutes. The conversation never dipped despite Jihoon speaking none of himself, and avoiding most questions that had to do with it. Even this seemed not to outwardly bother Soonyoung. He spoke of his lengthened career in ballet, the brevity of such a field in the town, and eventually the music he enjoyed listening to. It was this that Jihoon was able to join in with. 

Their love of music brought them together in a way that made Jihoon shake with intense fear. How could someone so likable exist in this world—and end up on Jihoon's doorstep. He knew more now than ever that he was in for a large amount of trouble, and when Soonyoung announced to the waiter that they were finished reality blew away the large cloud of tender fog that surrounded them like it did to the dew of a cool summer night. They stood.

“Well—I suppose I should head home.” Soonyoung announced, making his voice lovely and pitiful. He knew it worked very well. Jihoon held onto every word that came from his mouth. 

“You could come back another time—really–any.” Shame had been forgotten in the first 10 minutes of their meal. Now he cared only about seeing him again. 

“I'd really love that,” he paused. He was in thought, but it was faux and not for long. “But I thought you might not allow me a little personal time. Why don't we just—ride around?” 

Jihoon had scarcely heard of such a thing. The suggestion took away the spell he'd been under and the world fell back into place as he took a long while to consider how to answer. If he could find a way to outright say no he would have, but instead he said: 

“Why not go somewhere—” he could not finish this, and feeling as though he may lose the opportunity and being largely embarrassed, he agreed. “Another time.” 

Soonyoung reached for Jihoon’s arm in delight. He locked it with his own and walked them toward the door. Jihoon was again stuck in the menacing glares of those around them, even if they were only subtle and but a second. It was not toward him, but he could tell that anyway it was of him. He stopped at the door and they separated.  

“Really it was a lovely night. I'll be sure to tell Wonwoo you're not nearly as mean as he's said. To me you're rather—charming.” 

Jihoon smiled, but it was forced and a little uninterested. Mostly now he was waiting for the cab he signaled his staff to call, but the rest of his attention was on those whose eyes lingered a little too long. 

Would Jihoon walk him to the car? Well he'd love to more than anything, but being preoccupied so long has probably stacked up the things he needs to attend to. He chose not to mention the danger of the situation, though he did let a little of the shine wear off by making no attempt to hug him goodbye, not even linger in the door frame with passionate disappointment. The rest of the night he sits in agony and elation. He steered from doing things of this nature for he knew of what was said to follow, but experiencing it now he realized why those who did fought so. He calmed his nerves with a few drinks and engrossed himself in business as much as he could. 

It would be just under a month before he saw Soonyoung again. It was a little odd, seeing as he felt that they got along well that night, but he held hope from Wonwoo. Every so often he would mention that Soonyoung had mentioned Jihoon in some context that seemed not entirely appropriate, or that he asked for a way to reach him constantly, but because of Wonwoo’s disapproval each attempt proved unfruitful. He wanted nothing more than to ask why he hadn’t come around, but felt that the unapproved date and obvious intense interest at the slightest mention of Soonyoung’s name was already taking the matter too far. 

In the last week of the month in walked the large brown eyes of his affections. Walking over to him with little hesitation, it felt like they were meeting for the first time all over again, and Jihoon resisted the urge to run into his arms. 

“Hello,” Soonyoung began. 

“How are you?” Jihoon responded, noncommittal. 

Soonyoung took this terribly. He sat next to him and asking for his hand, there came a gloss to his eyes. “You must think I’m the worst.” 

Jihoon was suddenly frantic. “Of course not—! Why on earth would I think that?” 

“I made it out to seem like I was throwing you over. I just wanted to not seem so eager; I made a fool of myself at that dinner.” Jihoon laughed in a short breath, and noticing, Soonyoung looked very confused. “If you never want to see me again I’d understand.” 

Jihoon took both his hands and led him to an empty curtain booth. It was something he had implemented on a whim, and though it was embarrassing to admit to himself this was the reason why. “I don’t think that, Soonyoung. Wonwoo told me plenty.” 

Soonyoung started. “He told you about the sudden business trip?” A nod. “And the rush of work?” A nod. “And how I asked for your number?” Another nod. “Well he’s just useless!” 

“I wrote it for him to give to you, but he told me the same as he told you.” 

“‘I refuse to orchestrate something I entirely disapprove of.” They said together. 

This brought them closer together, and moving a little nearer in the booth, everything seemed to fall into place. The conversation picked up where it had been before, and any semblance of faux disinterest was forgotten between the both of them. Soonyoung caught him up on just about everything in his life, and in return he told him a few pieces of his childhood, excluding largely anything negative. A little further into the conversation there was a commotion in the booth on the opposite side of them. It started with loud yelling that interrupted Soonyoung as he spoke, and they both grew annoyed at this, but when a bottle was thrown and dishes began clattering to the floor it was apparent that Soonyoung was entirely uncomfortable. 

“That’s a bother, isn’t it?” Jihoon asks. 

Soonyoung’s eyes are pleading when he agrees. 

“Well, I’ll go and handle it. It’s my restaurant.” 

He walks over toward them with a hard face and very clouded, enraged eyes. They stop immediately. “See here. Unless you both want to end up dead in a river I suggest you learn to talk it out.” 
They looked at each other, then him, and then one another again almost comically. Nodding in unison they begin to pick up the tableware and straighten the cloth carefully. Jihoon walks away a little proud of himself and with the hope that this might not make Soonyoung fall in love with him. He joined him again. 

“Oh, I hate any violence. Thank you for stopping that.” 

Jihoon decided he would not let any fighting happen around Soonyoung for as long as he live. 

“What was it that they were fighting over? If they won’t mind me asking.” 

His decision was now to clash with his reality. The two were really getting heated because he set a very strict price to be negotiated for the new guns to be provided for a lower rink of his gang, but the supplier was being stubborn. He imagined explaining this to Soonyoung, and only the thought of him wordlessly standing and leaving without another word went through his head. 

“They both like the same girl,” he lied. “Love makes you do crazy things.” 

“I’ll say!” he agreed, looking over to them once more. 

After this interaction Jihoon made it very clear—with only vague reasoning—as to how they should act around Soonyoung. They agreed without question to this and raising their security, almost specifically whenever he was there, Jihoon was comfortable with taking this further. He called for Soonyoung to join him once more for dinner, and feeling a little bad about this made plans for them to go to a late night jazz show afterward. The call interested most everyone that was in the area when he dialed. He sighed heavily as he typed in the number and was nervous that the beating in his ears would be picked up by the phone. Tripping over his words and leaving hardly a room for even a sigh in the conversation he was successful in setting a date for just before 8pm. Leaving the office that led to the kitchen he noticed that before where there was collective silence, when he stepped from the room each person found it necessary to make a sudden large noise to cover their nervous listening. He would have laughed about this had Wonwoo not been waiting in the hall to the dining room for him. 

He had been waiting for this to happen eventually, but dreaded it now that it was going to. When explaining the special treatment Soonyoung was to be given to ensure safety and bliss of what the space was truly a cover for he rarely took his eyes from Wonwoo’s face. He knew that it was all really just proof that he was very serious and cautious, and when there was nothing more than a small nod he figured Wonwoo approved. The face he held now told a different story. 

“And where do you expect this to go?” 

Jihoon knew he had no right to be upset, and the anger held itself in his stomach. “You can’t really ask someone that so bluntly, can you?” 

“I think I’m entitled to it—seeing your disposition.” 

He was a little hurt by this, but agreed entirely. “I can’t answer that, and you know it.” he broke off, but refusing to entertain the thought of getting on his knees and begging, said: “If it was—I’m sure that I won’t—” trying once more, he noticed three of his men rush toward the door and knew that Soonyoung had arrived. “Feelings are a little new for me. But even in the absence of them I would rather let myself be killed than break your trust or compromise his innocence.” 

This seemed to work very well. Wonwoo was clearly thrown by such large and sincere words. He walked away proudly and with this new feeling he had just began getting used to that he couldn’t quite describe. It came very strong into his chest and up to his throat and a little behind his eyes when Soonyoung’s pink face smiled at him. He was unsure of physical touch still, and keeping safety his priority decided against it regardless. This did not bother Soonyoung outwardly, but when they went to the booth they now considered theirs, when there was a comfortable lull in the conversation they locked eyes in tender silence and leaned unknowingly toward each other so that they were just about in the other’s arms. Feeling a brush on his hand, Jihoon looked down and repeated the action. 

Soonyoung smiled. “How about that ride?” 

“I know just the place.” 

His plan was going exactly as he had hope—maybe even better. They shuffled a little awkwardly to the door and stood in the silence of a cold summer night. When the car made its way over they got in the back seat together and watched the crescent moon follow them. There was no instruction given to the driver beside “drive around” which he knew was confusing, but was reluctant to let the privacy of them together be ruined so quickly. Soonyoung asked for the radio to be put on and when a slow symphony that he clearly loved began he turned to Jihoon excitedly. Jihoon smiled in recognition, and listening very intently, Soonyoung pat his hand along with the rises and falls of the piano. 

When it finished Jihoon looked over to him and whispered how pleasant it was. With their hands still resting together Soonyoung leaned over very suddenly and kissed him. It was soft and dry and quite literally nothing he had experienced before. In some odd way the feeling seemed mutual. When Soonyoung’s head moved back into the invading moonlite he had gone red. 

“I’m sorry.” He said hurriedly, removing his hand. “I got swept up in the mood.” 

Jihoon pressed their shoulders together. “No—Why—Well—” 

His nervousness brought a white smile to Soonyoung’s face. “Let’s drive by a lake. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen the moon in something so beautiful. 

“If only you could see your eyes,” he wanted to say, but the romance of them in this night made the words get stuck in his throat and only an acquiescing groan escaped. 

They ended up in the thick brush of a shallow forest. How they got here wasn’t clear, but the contour of Soonyoung’s face from the golden light seemed like reason enough. 

“...And of course it’d be spoiled rotten.” 

They had now moved onto speaking about the cat in which Soonyoung kept encountering outside his apartment. He had gotten the idea of capturing it and raising it as his own. 

“But it’s difficult to make them love you half as much as you do them.” 

“I’m sure it would,” he finally intervened. 

This made Soonyoung smile. They retreated back to the car in silence and had wordlessly ended up at a bar that Jihoon frequented and half owned. Soonyoung was surprised when he shared this information. 

“Were your parent’s real-estate moguls?” 

“Something like that…” he answered enigmatically. 

Everyone knew his name and greeted him to some polite extent, but the word must have spread on how to behave around Soonyoung, as they acted clearly stiff and did no more than remove their caps in greeting. One young man that seemed to be nearly a child and had the face like that of a small semi aquatic mammal attempted to rush to Jihoon’s side with what looked like an important discussion, but being stopped by two others almost forcefully he was dragged back into the room which he came, and not seen again. 

As they passed the bar many burly, tough looking men stopped them to greet Jihoon. One made a gallant pass at Soonyoung, who enjoyed it immensely, and Jihoon slightly regretted coming, but wanting to show Soonyoung more of himself it couldn’t be helped. They sat at a table near the stage and as the feather dancers came out, Soonyoung was delighted and a little embarrassed. 

“I’ve done that before.” he said, turning to Jihoon very seriously. 

“Have you? When?” 

“Back when I first moved from home. My parents didn’t support me then—they decided to let me see what it was truly like for an artist.” 

One of the dancers sauntered toward Jihoon’s direction and waved innocently. He lifted his drink in response. Soonyoung on the other hand moved both of his arms in overwhelming support, as if he were an appropriately shy cheerleader. The girl was confused, but the affection clearly brought a smile to her face.

“That’s terrible…” 

“A little,” he agreed. “But I did love the journey.” 

“And what of the dancing you do now? Ballet?” 

He finally took his eyes from the stage. “I love it… I have a job at the theater across town. You should come and watch me perform some time. I’ll be in the performance ‘Giselle’ next Tuesday.” 

“I’d be delighted..!” he responded eagerly.

The night from then on was what they both silently considered to call a dream. A very personal companion of Jihoon’s joined them for a while and seemed to recognize the vulnerability of the situation quickly, taking advantage of it he continued to push drinks in his direction. Not wanting to seem stiff and boresome in front of Soonyoung, he obliged. Becoming of someone that took immense effort to conceal he quickly had Soonyoung and then himself brought home in quite a blur. The car drove quickly and the pressed hands or delicate worry that was given at their departure would go forgotten, but could not be taken back. 

Nursing a terrible headache the following morning he went to his office first thing and a familiar face appeared half an hour past nine. He had been sitting in complete dark and only a soft green lamp on his desk was what provided the light he may need had he found enough strength in his pounding head to do any work. When the door was opened he looked up very slowly, and though it was impossible to make out a face the broad shoulders that were silhouetted by the bright fluorescent lights were unmistakable. 

“Did you have quite a gay time?” 

He threw a handful of pens in the intruder's direction. “Seungcheol…” 

“Is there a person that all are ordered to ‘mention nothing harmful or criminal around?’ A tall blonde boy that hangs off your hip.” 

He sobered slightly. “Who added that last part?” 

“I did.” He admitted smugly. “Or would it be better to say that you hang from his arm like a young monkey might from its mother?” 

“Oh—Shut up!” 

He laughed. “I’m happy for you–truly.” This sentiment was ruined when he followed shortly with: “Just remember to be careful.”

Jihoon gave a look that could have materialized and slammed the door. “You say that as if I were born yesterday.” 

“I know. You just seem so pliable around him. Weakness so blaring should be embraced scarcely.” 

“I didn’t realize I hired a professional poet as my right hand.” 

“I’m serious.”

“I get that.” 

The atmosphere was tense. Jihoon felt like a petulant child begging to go to the prom. Someone knocked on the door and Seungcheol turned to put his hand on the knob. 

“He suits you.” He said, and then departed.

The knock was a call to the work in which he had been consumed for the entirety of his life. He was reaching a place of wealth and power that could crush him had he not played his cards correctly, and enveloping himself in it for three full days with only short rests on the couch of his office proved to be draining. If he had not spent time trapped at a table whispering shady compliments to this mobster in the afternoon then he would not be able to make it to the useless meeting in some dark parking lot with that political swine of whom he had not an ounce of respect. Some days he was stuck in a bright office being lectured on what aspects of idiocy had brought attention to a lesser cared for business of his, and dozing continuously he wondered if he hadn't fallen asleep with his eyes open at one point. It was over before he had realized, and shaking from the group he ran into Wonwoo. 

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” 

“Tuesday.” 

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with the Kim’s who want to encroach slightly.” 

“Why do they want to do that?” 

“Something about growing larger—needing more space.” 

“I’d rather not.” He admitted. 

“Why?” 

“There’s something important I have to do tomorrow and I don’t want the headache.” 

Wonwoo glanced at him. “What would that be?” 

“You seem to know.” 

He looked as if he were going to combat this, but glancing at Jihoon’s serious face, decided against it.

“Are you attending?” 

“It’s one of his smaller roles. I don’t think he even asked.” 

Jihoon wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Thinking it over for a long while he couldn’t figure why not to be elated. When they separated on the white-ish blue sidewalk he saw a dark figure at the far end staring at him. He waited a moment to see if he was mistaken but they did not move, and only when he opened the passenger door to get in the car did they turn to disappear behind a tall building. 

In the morning he is pleasant and seemingly cured of his fatigue. He was taught to dress formally but now he understood the importance of appearance and stood in front of his wardrobe for an hour and a half trying on just about every piece of clothing he owned. A suit he found to be presentable just last week now fit him like he were a child. A pair of shoes he found to be stylish now looked tattered and unusable. Even the ties he owned seemed given to him by a father’s father of whom maybe have been color blind. Not wanting to go out alone just for a single outfit he decided a light black suit with a short coat and fitted waist piece looked best. Leaving himself free of tie he was entirely satisfied with this decision, and undressing mindlessly, was a little embarrassed that he cared so deeply about something menial for the first time in his life. After a while he was amazed by the fact, and appreciating this new enjoyable aspect of his life decided he would go out alone for a single thing. 

Wearing what he would normally and being very discreet, he walked from his small apartment in a dull, run-down building down the street until he came across a flower stand. It was rare that he interacted with someone normal—apart from Soonyoung—and learning of all the flowers he surely would not remember the names or intentions of he left with a bouquet almost too full to contain in paper. Walking back he felt eyes on him, and looking about the same dark figure from before was making their way toward an alley just as he noticed them. Normally he would have followed up on this advancement with immense precaution but not wanting to sour his mood or possibly ruin the flowers he ignored it. 
When returning home the rest of the day went by so slowly he was left to consider how he would possibly spend his days had he not been always so busy with work. Of course he liked music, a multi-disk player was currently turning through his favorite albums as he sat looking out the window, but thinking further he wondered if there were any way to make his interest more intense. Coming up short he imagined what the performance might be like tonight. How wonderful Soonyoung might look performing seriously on a stage in front of a crowd of people. If he might not be wearing the rather becoming outfits of a traditional ballerina. Steering from this with a red face he tried to imagine what his reaction would be to the large bouquet, and if its beauty could hold up to Soonyoung’s own bright smile. 

At five minutes to 8 Jihoon dressed quickly and called for a driver to come and pick him up. They arrived at the curb ten minutes later and debating on whether he should arrive early to give the flowers first or arrive coolly as soon as it started in hopes that he could see Soonyoung’s round eyes and soft mouth looking hopefully through the crowd for him. It was decided for him as the driver was an older man that drove exactly as the speed limit called for. He was not upset over this, and arriving as the curtain rose he hurried to an available seat. The scenery was what Jihoon could only describe as cute. A young man walked onto a stage that was the painted backdrop of a forest and a few cottages were there for him to knock. Having never experienced a ballet performance before, Jihoon was mesmerized as soon as it started. Each character walked as a proud bird might when it was being courted; when they did twirl and fly it was with ease, as though the wind was being let through some back door and obliging they’re every jump. The girl's blue dress bounced playfully along with her as though it were alive as well, dancing and flopping and practicing its form. 

This continued on for a while, and though he knew there was a semblance of plot to what they were performing he could hardly catch snatches of it. Others appeared and disappeared, coming back only to dance beautifully as one. Their short hops and single twirls made the stage seem like one large wave with no sound. Feeling as though he may have finally understood, and entirely moved, it finally came. Soonyoung appeared from the left stage behind a young woman in a lovely pink dress and Jihoon had not noticed but he was on the edge of his seat. As the music slowed he lifted her the highest he could and held her there, continuously assisting her floating, her twirling, even the way she crumpled then bloomed. The women exited and so began the solo. He moved about like a puppet on strings; able to pause in the air momentarily as he jumped before coming down slowly to do it all over again. After a reunion with the woman in pink and a large group performance, they all stand around what Jihoon has now assumed to be the main character, properly name Giselle, doing a solo. Tensions rise along with the music and as the curtains close Jihoon realizes he had been crushing the flowers slightly in his eager grip. 

There is an announced intermission as they prepare for the next scene and Jihoon decided it may be best if he use the short time to stretch his tuff shoulders. He felt a little ridiculous holding such a large arrangement and searching for a reception or someone of the staff he was pleasantly surprised to run into Soonyoung. Whom had been free of costume he noticed with light disappointment. 

“Jihoon!” he exclaimed, just as shocked, but clearly elated. 

“Hello.” he responded dumbly. 

“Why—you’re here!” 

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” 

“I hope you’re enjoying it.” he said coolly. 

Jihoon laughed. “I nearly joined you.” 

“That happens the first time. It’s the music.” 

“I’d argue you take part in it as well.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed confidently. Finally he looked at the flowers. “And–what might those be?” 

Jihoon presented them so that they all might be seen and then set them in Soonyoung’s arms. 

“For the wonderful performer.” 

The smile on Soonyoung’s face was better than he could have ever imagined. Golden and pearly and threatening to outshine the sun. 

“They’re beautiful.” He went silent and Jihoon joined. They stood there for a moment with Soonyoung tucked into his arm as he ordered two glasses of light champagne.

“Will this be alright? I’d hate to ruin your performance in any way.” 

“The rest is mostly Giselle. I only have to be back for the bow.” 

They clinked their glasses softly together and downed the contents unceremoniously. 

“One moment,” Soonyoung said, retreating into the door labeled “Backstage.”

Coming out again shortly he was very pink and satisfied. A loud wolf whistle escaped from the door just as it shut and Jihoon concealed a smile. 

“Would you mind—Would you want to get something to eat afterward?” He was suddenly shy. 

“Of course,” Jihoon responded. 

Soonyoung joined him at his seat from the audience. The two leads danced beautifully and in a chronological way in which Jihoon still could not understand. He new that Soonyoung could hopefully explain to him later and allowed himself to get swept up entirely in the way the characters played along with the music a if it were the wind beneath their dresses; rising and falling sorrowfully. Jihoon could not help the tears that came to his eyes as the two characters danced as though they were one. Even when they moved to separate it seemed that their bodies were moving expressly for the other, and the women in white that the came out maneuvered like a cloud from a dream. He tried to conceal his gentle weeping but in a moment Soonyoung was putting his warm hand into Jihoon’s own, comforting him. 

“It’ll be over in a moment. I’ll have to go now.” he whispered. He placed the flowers carefully into his seat and walked off.

Wiping his eyes, Jihoon stood quickly as the curtain closed and clapped as loud as he could when it opened again. He happened to make shy eye contact with Soonyoung and felt a pride not entirely deserved but however just as exhilarating. Meeting him afterward with Soonyoung’s bag and the bouquet he stood at that same door. He regretted such an obvious display of affection when Soonyoung came from the door hushing the group of young women he recognized to be the pink dresses. They bowed politely to Jihoon but each glanced pointedly at the large bouquet and then the way Soonyoung’s bag hung from his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly, taking the bouquet and reaching to take the bag from him. 

Jihoon moved his shoulder away. “It’s fine.” 

“And basically they are ordered to dance until they die. The nobleman’s power was useless and he was left alone at her grave with the semblance of her ghost.” 
Jihoon was shocked. He knew there was the imagery of death but now that it was explained to him he found it incredibly grisly. He expressed this to Soonyoung. 

“And some parts felt too personal.. I was considered for a larger role but the thought of accepting scared me.” 

“Just like that?” he inquired, a little sorry and disappointed. 

“I scare easily, I guess. But really I just hate all of that tough stuff—and most of all I can’t stand being lied to.” 

This made Jihoon nervous. Of course what he was doing now was lying; but he considered it to be more of a white lie than one so blatant. The car arrived and he tried to remove the discussion from his mind. In this long bout of silence Soonyoung had begun to fidget. He would turn his head as if to say something but would immediately close his mouth when they met eyes. Jihoon had not noticed in all his worry, and the sudden conversation unnerved him. 

“Jihoon—”

“Yes?” he responded breathlessly. 

“I’d just like to say—’

“Anything.” 

“Just that—Well I—”

He was interrupted when the car stopped suddenly so that Soonyoung’s bag fell to the floor with a large thump and they were tossed in their seats. 

“A little problem with the engine..!” The old man shouts back to them. When he closes the door behind himself they are left alone in the dark and there follows an unbearable silence. Soonyoung had lost the courage to continue and Jihoon could only imagine the worst of words being presented to him. The driver had been gone now for several minutes and unable to wait like this much longer, Soonyoung suggested they get out to help. 

Jihoon was the first to notice. It in fact had not been the engine at all; one wheel had been damaged so gnarly that there began a tear. Finding this very unlikely and eventually seeing the knife that had purposefully caused the damage, Jihoon looked about. He noticed a young man faintly familiar dragging the old man off behind a large brush, and Soonyoung must have noticed as well because he let out a large gasp. Jihoon moved him quickly into the front seat and locked the door. The sound got the attention of the assailant and he stepped closer. Jihoon called out to him casually. This confused the young man and he reached to his back as if for a gun. Jihoon materialized a knife, but raised his hands in the air. He was more worried how this might affect Soonyoung’s opinion of him than he was of the gun. More recently than ever had he lost his will to fight and scrap. Hadn’t these people had someone they loved? Did they not want to be in their arms and listening to their laughter and blushing a little when their eyes met? 

“I’d really rather not do this. Wouldn’t you? If I killed you it would only ruin both of our days. Really, it wouldn’t help much anyone.” 

The young man came closer, gun pointed directly at Jihoon. 

“Well, go on. Tell me what it is you want.” 

The young man was baffled. “A message from the Kim’s. Hand over the northeast territory.” 

Jihoon lowered his arms. “Well that wasn’t so hard, was it? Come along with me and I’m sure we can work something out.” 

“What?” He lowered the gun, but when Jihoon moved closer he raised it again with his finger on the trigger. “This is a trick.” 

“See here—” he throws the knife away. “You can not believe me and get nowhere by killing me, or you can help me get my driver in the car and my tire fixed and I'll see about this.” 

The young man hesitated but sensing the sincerity in Jihoon’s voice removed the clip from the gun and put it back where it had been. Jihoon pulled what they might need to replace the wheel from the trunk and finishing quickly he wrote a number down on the back of a business card he found in one pocket. Holding the driver under his arms, Jihoon opened the door. 

“Is everything—alright?” Soonyoung asked, quite in shock. 

“Just fine. We got it worked out.” 

The man was set safely down and the door was shut, moments later as they said their goodbyes Soonyoung appeared. He looked down at the young man’s clothes and immediately noticed that he had switched them with the driver. He became furious. 

“Now who on Earth—! Just who do you think you are! Ruining our night with this—” he waved his arms wildly in the boy's direction. “Have you got any sense in your mind to be doing something so childish!” Receiving little reaction he retreated to Jihoon’s side, but moments later the young man said: 

“I’m sorry…” in a very flustered tone. 

Jihoon laughed. “It’s alright. We’ve worked it out.” 

They part from there and Jihoon brings the old man to a hospital, admitting him on the count that he found him lost and alone in a park nearby. Soonyoung had stayed in the car while this happened, and Jihoon felt a little bad about lying again. When he joined him they sat in the car's light as he made sure he wasn’t too shaken. 

“You were very brave back there.” 

“Me—? You talked down a man with a gun!” 

“Well, yes, but I’m not so easily scared.” 

“I think my skeleton leapt from my skin when he pointed it at you… You poor thing.” 

He was suddenly very sad, and Jihoon embraced him a little awkwardly. “It’s fine.. I’m okay.” 

“But what if you hadn’t been?” 

“I would. It’s okay—darling.” 

They both blushed. 

“Oh, hush!” Soonyoung said through a smile, wiping his eyes. 

They decided the dinner was still worth it as Jihoon was mostly worried of what the stress might do to Soonyoung on an empty stomach. It was now twenty minutes to midnight and finding somewhere open would have been a problem for someone not Lee Jihoon. They ended up at a rooftop dinery that overlooked the city. From the height they were at the bright lights could have been mistaken for stars and if there were any life moving down below the black sky masked it unforgivably. Jihoon had never appreciated things like this, but Soonyoung seemed in awe of the banal moonlight that shone insignificantly on the city. It was a full moon and the staff allowed whatever music they wanted to be played on the balcony, as they were the only ones out there. Soonyoung’s delight gave Jihoon a sense of hope, and moving a little closer Jihoon decided it was now that he should tell him. 

“So about before…” 

“Yes, what was it that he wanted so terribly?” 

“Well—You see—” 

“If you’d rather not think about it I understand. Something so wicked must be eating at your heart.” 

“Soonyoung… Darling Soonyoung…” 

Jihoon looks a little away and begins to tell him just about everything. How he was raised into a large mafia by the cruel hand of an eager uncle and the carelessness of his father. Training to be a benefactor from a young age until he was thrust into the dangers of this life when said uncle died unexpectedly at 50. He was proud of himself for a while, knowing no other normalcy beside this, and including the truth to what happened the second time they dined together and just earlier in the car, he felt out of body at Soonyoung’s delay in reaction. 

“So… you’d been lying to me?” 

“In a way—but it—I never meant for it to hurt you in the least. I really was just afraid you may never like me had you known.” 

“Did you think I was so shallow?” he demanded. 

“Never—!” he responded quickly. “But what my life is made up of you hate entirely.” 

Again there came a pregnant pause and Jihoon was sure that all his worst imaginations were going to come true. He hung his head so he could not see Soonyoung’s face and sent the waiter back inside when he announced the arrival of the first appetizer. When the door closed Soonyoung reached to brush his arm. 

“Well… then I guess we need to set up a few rules.” 

Jihoon was a little afraid of this idea, but the elation of being given a chance outweighed it completely. 

“I don’t want to see you hurt! Or hear about you killing someone… Don’t you know they have people that they love? Much like—” he stopped himself. “Well, anyway, I’ll have none of it.” Soonyoung looked off into the black sky in thought, but finding these words sufficient he nodded his head once and turned back to Jihoon, who had kneeled down on the ground as if he were pleading. “Now come here and give me a kiss. You look as if you were waiting for me to throw you over.” 

He does, many times, and the sun would rise before they left each other's embrace. 

Jihoon’s reluctance and nonchalance over the entire situation becomes increasingly and severely noticed as it causes any further action to be taken for an unnecessary amount of time. This is not appreciated in the least and it starts with annoying amounts of calls, and sudden visits that end with him agreeing to whatever is said until they leave. This does not spark any passion in his heart and again he forgets about the agreement entirely in favor of spending what free time he could with Soonyoung. He was not sure if this became obvious, but he could not help but assume when one night when he and Soonyoung were eating out at a new restaurant the latter wanted to try the wine he ordered tasted very off. Soonyoung, never having been a big fan, always waited for Jihoon to try it and tell him if he would like it, to which no matter what answer he gave another glass would be poured anyway. 

This time when Jihoon tried it, he stopped for a long while trying to figure out what was wrong with it. When Soonyoung began to pour himself a glass he moved it from his reach and had it taken away. 

“Really, you wouldn’t have liked it much at all.” 

But this did not ruin their night. It was the following morning when he received a call in a very panicked voice that he learned the wine had been poisoned. Had he drunk even three cups… 

The rest of this sentence went unfinished. He hung the phone up and had connections trying to find the waiter and the one who called to have it done. Filled with rage, he called up Soonyoung. 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

“Much better now that you’ve called.” 

“Soonyoung, be a little serious for me.” 

“I’m just fine—Why?” 

He hesitated, but Soonyoung was handling Jihoon’s disposition better than he would have ever imagined, and figured it’d better safe than sorry. 

“When we had dinner yesterday… Well, the wine was highly poisoned.” 

There was only silence in response. 

“..Dear Soonyoung?” 

First came a low cry. “And–how are you?” 

“Oh—Soonyoung—! My dear Soonyoung! I’m perfectly fine. I’ve built my tolerance for years.” He paused, feeling emotional over his lingering sniffles. “It was how my father died.” 

The sound of Soonyoung’s crying was now very clear. “Why do people want to hurt a man as lovely as you?”

Jihoon smiled. “Power is to the broken like love is to the empty.” 

“And which are you?” 

“I was empty.” 

“Was?” But when Jihoon gave no response, he said: “I want to protect you from such an awful life… I got a taser and everything.” 

Jihoon was so moved he could not speak, and then finding his voice, all he could say was: 
“Thank you… Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

Over and over and over, until finally Soonyoung interrupted. 

“I love you.” 

Though it scratched his pride, Jihoon set a date to meet and discuss with Seungcheol immediately the following day. Word may have gotten up to him about the attempted poison, as when he received a response it was the same evening of his request and Seungcheol came to him directly. 

“I’d like to meet,” he began. “but only if you can promise me that you’re not making any decision from rage.” 

“I promise.” 

“On Soonyoung’s life?” he tested. 

“No,” he said quickly. “But I can promise on my own.” 

“I can accept those terms.” 

He stared at Jihoon like he found something interesting and new about him, but did not say what. “Let’s meet Thursday. My office.”

Jihoon took the two days to think, but at times it became too much and the only thing he could clear his mind with was the piano. Playing for half a day gave him a terrible crick in his neck, but when

Thursday came he was confident and a little proud. 

“Have you got any plans?” Seungcheol asked as they sat at his matching set of arm chairs. It had been a while since the last time Jihoon had visited and the juxtaposition from his own office was almost laughable. He had stopped caring about organization long ago, and this only worsened when he met Soonyoung. He wa sure that a shelf of his that once held books of street roads, sewage systems, or business contact information was now cleared and replaced with various stuffed animals that were given on the pretense of being a gift, but almost certainly had a small hint of ownership to them. Seungcheol’s shelved were color coded, labeled, and even the empty space on the walls were occupied by calendar pages ripped from their binding and marked by importance. 

“Well?” he repeated. 

“I do.” He responded, a little coy. 

“Jihoon.” 

“It’s just that you won’t much like it.”

“Why? Are you going to try and kill them all?” 

“Maybe you’d prefer that…” He took a large breath. “I’d—in a way—like to give it all up.” 

Seungcheol was taken aback. 

“I know. It’s rash and a little childish, isn’t it?”

“It is.” he agreed quickly. “But it’s also romantic and something like you’ve never done.” 

“It’s just not so easy..” 

“Well, you could let it all rot, but that would end very badly very quickly.” 

“So, it’d be best.. to merge?” 

“And dissolve yourself from the lot.” 

“Could you write up something that takes me out of it but leaves me the restaurant?”

“I can sure try.”

He leaves Jihoon in suspense for a week, only responding to his calls with uncommitted responses on his progress. He hadn’t minded, he would be leaving not only the bulge of this situation on him, but eventually the largest responsibility of his life from there on. He decided against telling Soonyoung. Whether as another surprise or fear of something much larger, he didn’t quite know. At times just the thought of calling him up led to impulsive consideration of moving out of country. The movies made America seem so shiny and proper, Soonyoung could be part of even larger roles and Jihoon could be his personal manager, his biggest fan. Waking from this daydream yet again he exited the car and was greeted by Seungcheol and an unfamiliar face. 

“As always.. Fashionably late.” Seungcheol said through a smile. “I’d like to introduce you to Kim HaeSol.” 

Jihoon bowed politely. The man was skinny, with almost no leaness. It was most likely that he was a model. His round chin was so narrow that it seemed to be perpetually pointing at something below him, and any semblance of a smile could only be characterized as a little wicked. 

“He is technically a ghost.”

Jihoon made an involuntary noise of interest. He hadn’t known the man well but this simultaneously surprised him and seemed to make sense. Now he wanted to know why he should care. 

“Because he’s going to make you one too.” 

“What?” he exclaimed accidentally loud. 

“I figured you would love that plan… fake your death and move to the countryside.” 

“You couldn’t have possibly thought that I wanted that.” he responded, a little embarrassed. He was momentarily scared he could read his mind. 

Seungcheol laughed. They walked into his office and did an awkward shuffle as they arranged the seats to be facing each other. When they settled in their seats Seungcheol pulled a file from his desk. 

“What I’d like him to actually do is be you’re completely neutral and rather nonplussed,” he made quotes with his fingers when he said: “Right-hand.” 

Jihoon looked over to the man and he seemed perfectly okay with being spoken of as if he was not in the room. 

“I made the brilliant plan of merging, removing you, and making the restaurant a sort of safe zone.” 

“No jobs lost, no violence around Soonyoung…” he repeated in an elated whisper. 

“Exactly. The only catch—those who do must be punished.” 

“I can’t do that.” he corrected himself. “I don’t want to do that. Not there, no by my association.” 

“That’s where HaeSol comes in..! Anyone caught doing so will be brought to a secondary location and taken care of by,” he waved in the man’s general direction. “No harm, no foul.” 

He wondered how much Soonyoung would approve of this. For now it seemed fool-proof. He smiled unknowingly large. 

“No need to thank moreover and over, I know I’m the greatest and you will forever be in my debt.” He made a motion to stand. 

Jihoon walked toward him slowly and with little resistance, they were hugging. 

“Seungcheol… I love you.” 

When they parted he thinks he imagined Seungcheol’s watery eyes. 

Jihoon was fortunate enough that the timing was able to align so quickly. The following day a large meeting was set to take place at the restaurant after close. The house would be packed and the staff would be working over time. It was a little difficult to explain why when they had asked, but he assured them that they would also hear exactly the reason when the time came. 
When all arrived and Jihoon was waiting to be announced up to the stage he felt for the first time in his life, a large cloud of worry came about his entire chest. He sighed largely and tried to force a daydream but the beating of his heart was too loud, and the singular thought of Soonyoung only made his nerves more frightened. He heard his name and walked nearer. 

“We will explain and field any concerns.”

The crowd was filled with vaguely familiar faces but for some reason as Seungchoel began to speak they blurred, turning their collective aura into one large, dark mist of his personified fear. He avoided looking at it directly but each time he would glance back it seemed to only get worse. 

“He will be sort of quitting—and he will be passing more things over to me.” A collective gasp went through the room. “And then we will be merging with the Kim.” 

There was a few scattered groans of disagreement. They quieted when Jihoon cleared his throat. He explained the situation as Seungcheol had to him—leaving out any mention of Soonyoung. When he finished he followed up with: 

“Any questions?”

The crowd became uproarious. Even how own people that he’d known since he wa a child stood in defiance. He pointed to someone with their hand raised at random. 

“What makes you so entitled?” they demanded. 

“I’m sorry?” He said lowly. It was like they had forgotten who Jihoon was. He couldn’t blame them—for sometime he had as well. He figured it best to keep that tough image for now. 

“What he meant,” Seungcheol interrupts. “Is what made you decide this?” 

He thought a long moment on how to answer. He decided to be somewhat truthful. 

“I’m getting too old to hold new grudges every week. Don't you ever—” he hesitated. “Don't you ever want to exchange glances with someone without having to worry whether at someone point you have or will need to pull a gun on them? Don't you ever wonder what it’s like to be so innocent as to walk about trusting everyone you meet unconditionally?” 

He must have sounded accidentally too dreamy. The leader of the Kim’s stepped from his quiet position and yelled. “Someone sounds in love.” 

Jihoon made no reaction. He looked past him in disinterest. “Sometimes it’s easier to believe there’s no good in the world when you have nothing better to do.” 

A few snickers crumpled the man’s face like he’d smelled something awful. He came closer. 

“Just so we know we aren’t coming into some circus that you decided to abandon—I challenge you.” 

Seungcheol started. He spoke into the microphone hurriedly. “As it is Woozi that will be handing everything over to me, you may fight me as you wish.” 

“It’s quite alright.” he argued. “I may be leaving but I will not allow disrespect from a low down lackey.” 

“Be reminded that it is with both of you’re agreement that we will henceforth be working together..” Seungcheol added timidly. 

They seemed to ignore this.

“If I win you will treat them with the same respect as the rest of your people.” 

“And if you don’t?” 

“I’d rather die.” 

“As you wish.” 

When they walked away from each other, Seungcheol pulled him to the side. 

“Jihoon. What has gotten into you?” 

“Nothing,” he said nonchalantly. 

“But Soonyoung would not—”

“Don’t!” he interrupted. “This is all for him in the first place.” 

“You just agreed to death!” 

“Sometimes you take risks for the best.” 

Renowned for being a bustling and packed place it was ironically very empty and calm at just past nine-thirty on a Tuesday. Above was still spotted with tourists and teenagers out window shopping, amazed with each other for various reasons of unnecessary jealousy. For one it was banal and now uninteresting while for the other it was flashy and bright with architecture they had never seen. Meals were shared down long, noisy alleyways of nervous travelers and annoyed families. Down below Jihoon stood feeling nearly the same. He felt as though he had traveled back in time. There were the reckless actions of him five years ago, but maybe it was best to close this chapter of his life with something so grand. 

HaeSol—who was invited to referee as an unbiased third party—handed them each an identical knife. They bowed slightly and waited for the word. It began. 

“It’s always so sad to see a great mind dumbed down by some common whore.” 

Whatever regret he had previously was now gone completely. Every emotion was removed from him and now he could only see red. He made the first move, lunging in the man’s direction and striking just as he pulled back. It was dogged, but when a stab at his arm was successful at tearing skin he achieved a deep poke to the man’s lower abdomen. Their injuries would only continue, and after ten minutes that felt like 3 hours it was clear that all Jihoon’s rage and the man’s continued avoidance followed by rebuttal, was tiring them exhaustively. Finally Jihoon was able to catch his arm, but he had no effort to keep him there as well as strike, and his knife was knocked to the ground. The rush of adrenaline allowed him to throw the man when he attempted to strike. He shoved him forcefully to the ground, unfortunately he was pulled along with and after quite the struggle, with only their collective grunts to accompany the loud steps and shuffles, Jihoon had successfully overtaken the man. Sitting on his chest, he turned a defensive strike so now his hand was awkwardly toward his own torso, pointed directly at the heart. Every attempted wiggle to free the arm trapped under Jihoon’s leg made it easier to push down, and when he shrieked loudly upon contact, Jihoon stopped.

“Do you yield?” 

The man made no answer. 

“I will work through all you men until someone is compliant.,” and again he applied pressure. 

“Okay!” He removed his hand and made no effort to fight. “I take back what I said before.” 

Jihoon smiled. “Thank you.” 

The man stood, trying not to jostle the blade still inside him. When he put his arm out for Jihoon to shake he noticed how his shirt was now nothing but a thin layer of bloody scraps, and he had difficulty imagining what had been there before. When he reached out to take it he noticed that his was about the same, if not worse. Walking without any more words toward the exit he stopped suddenly, and clutching at his side where there had been a large gash now made wider due to their scrap, he fainted. 

Waking in the bright lights of a hospital was the last thing that Jihoon wanted. It was rare that he could afford the luxury of being checked into one, and examining himself, decided it best if he left. He was sure that one of them had gotten him put here not knowing what else to do. He removed the IV from his arm and lifted his shirt. The stitches were still fresh and all the patches on other wounds had blood seeping through the bandages. He found a pair of slippers in a drawer and peeked his head out the door. 

“Jihoon!” Seungcheol shouted when he turned that direction and their eyes met. “What are you doing up?” 

Jihoon closed the door behind himself. “What?” 

“Get back in bed and rest, you’re going to open your stitches.” 

He pulled Seungcheol into the room. “What are you doing?” 

“You're a ghost.” He said calmly. “They won’t be able to find anything on you.” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“HaeSol got pretty banged up trying to get you here. I figured I’d pay him a visit. As a thank you.” 

“Then shouldn't I leave?” 

“Well, you have two days before they have to ID you. Figured you could recover in that time.” 

Jihoon went to lie back down. “I suppose so.” 

“So, what now?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“What happened in the end?” 

“Well—I’m not dead.” 

“And that’s lovely. But what of the Kim’s?” 

“I said I’d go through all his men until someone was compliant. He took back what he said.” 

“What’d he say–?” 

Jihoon looked at him, then out the window. “Nothing. He just took it all back.” 

“Then what about you?” 

Jihoon laughed. That was a question he was asking himself. There was a knock at the door and he closed his eyes to pretend he was asleep. There was a small gasp. 

“Is he asleep?” They whispered. 

“I think he was just about to wake up,” Seungcheol responded in an unnaturally loud voice. He leaned a little nearer to him and whispered: “Don’t hate me.” 

When he opened one eye and then very quickly the other he was met with the glum, crumpled face of that Pretty Little thing. His heart dropped and he made an effort to get up. 

“Stop!” Soonyoung exclaimed, putting his hand on Jihoon’s shoulder. “Why—! What on—What happened?” 

Jihoon blushed. Seungcheol smiled sheepishly and fled from the room, closing the door quietly. 

“I got into a little—It was just a small disagreement.” 

“Jihoon! You can’t possibly be walking in circles at a time like this.’’ 

He sighed deeply. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.. He should have known that.” 

“Was he in on this? Did he do it to you–?” He demanded. 

“No, no.” He sighed again. “Please, sit. I’ll tell you everything.” 

He did, and the story must have sounded less interesting when he told it because there was little reaction from Soonyoung. 

“For me?” 

“Oh—in a way.” He responded, embarrassed. 

“I haven’t seen you in quite some time.. I thought you’d forgotten all about me.” He looked down at his hands. “I told you I love you and you ran for the hills.” 

Jihoon scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re the light of my life.” 

“Where’d you learn to say something so sweet?” 

Jihoon proffered his hand. “All the lines are sort of trapped in your eyes, and when I look very hard and feel very in love I can read them like they were made just for you.” 

“Oh, hush! I’m still upset at you,” he said, but almost immediately he was at Jihoon’s side, crying into his sleeve. “Don’t you know I love you?” 

“I’m sorry,” he said lowly. “I just have a weird way of showing it.” He surprised himself by joining Soonyoung in his low weeping, and exhausting himself, fell asleep. 

When the two days passed he figured he would be well enough to go about as normal. By Soonyoung’s orders Seungcheol watched over him like he was a helpless puppy as he cleaned any important information he would no longer need from the building to give to him. At one point he winced accidentally loud and was told to sit the rest of the time. He was so annoyed when they finished that even going to Soonyoung’s home and sharing a meal didn’t fix his sour mood. He lie in bed with the scowl of a child, only forgetting when he was kissed so tenderly he felt a little delirious. 
The next day he invited Soonyoung to his office, in the exact way that he had imagined. Candles here and there, the floor clear mostly so he might dance, and his piano dark and proud and wonderful. When the door opened and the initial confusion subsided, Soonyoung pushed him toward it eagerly. When the song began he shrieked, and sitting nearly in his lap, enjoyed it to the fullest. When he expressed his disappointment at there being no dance he was told to play again, and getting swept up in his light twirls and quick dips, the song went unfinished; lost to their gentle embrace.