Chapter Text
Hongjoong isn’t happy with the fact that he’s crouched on the edge of the sidewalk, feet in the gutter, vision going in and out of focus. He’s got an appointment in less than an hour with a new client—some Park Seonghwa—and here he is, unable to move. People are starting to stare, which certainly doesn’t make him feel any better about the situation.
A car pulls up near him, parking, and he starts to panic. Any second now, someone will get out of that car, and it’s not likely they’ll be particularly comfortable with his presence.
He tries to force his legs to move, but they’re feeling rebellious.
He can hear the sound of the car’s door opening, then closing.
Well. This is the end for him.
“Excuse me,” says a soft voice, “are you okay?”
Hongjoong blinks and looks up. Holy shit. Maybe it really is the end for him, since god went to all the trouble to send an angel and everything.
“Do you need help?” the angel says. A little, worried crease between perfectly arched eyebrows. Huge shining, concerned eyes. Long, silver-white hair framing his face perfectly, sun shining through it to make a golden halo. Not to mention the soft pink lips pulled down in a tiny frown. Fuck. Hongjoong’s doomed. This is Hell. What’s an angel doing in Hell?
Hongjoong shakes his head to clear it.
“No, I’m just… resting,” he mumbles.
Shit, what kind of an explanation is that? Who would pick a spot like this to rest?
The angel—well, he’s not glowing, so he must be human (or maybe he’s a demon, since this is Hell)—tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. Hongjoong wills his legs to get a grip.
“You’re shaking,” says the stranger.
Hongjoong’s legs come to life, and he hoists himself up off the ground.
“Just a little episode,” he says, brushing himself off, trying to ignore the burning in his face. “Nothing to worry about. Thanks for checking.”
“Do you need to go to the hospital? Or do you need a ride anywhere?”
“Nope!” Hongjoong swallows. His throat feels funny. His entire body feels funny. “No, I’m alright now. Thanks for the offer.”
He makes his exit as quickly as possible, feeling the stranger’s confused eyes burning into his back as he goes. He hails a cab once he turns the street corner, getting in and closing the door quickly, then taking a deep breath. “Ahn and Associates Accounting, please.”
So he’s never been so embarrassed in his life. So what? He’ll never see that man again, and he doesn’t have time to be dwelling on it anyway. Park Seonghwa will be here any minute, and Hongjoong needs to be in top shape to pull off this appointment without ruffling any feathers. Yeah, maybe he should have just canceled, but it’s a bit late for that now. He’ll just have to explain the situation to Mr. Park, find a new accountant that can handle his highly important, highly confidential case (Mr. Ahn’s words) just as well as Hongjoong would be able to, convince him to switch over—then Hongjoong can clock out for good.
Mr. Ahn begged him to at least talk to Mr. Park.
“We can’t afford to lose a client like this, and he specifically requested you. I know you’re not taking new clients, but… can’t you at least convince him to stay with the firm?”
Well. They’re about to find out, aren’t they?
There’s a knock on Hongjoong’s office door, and he opens it.
What’s the angel doing here?
“Mr. Kim?” says the angel. “I’m Park Seonghwa.”
Well.
Shit.
So now he’s never been so embarrassed in his life. So what? He’ll never see this man after today—he just has to reverse whatever negative opinions Mr. Park has already formed enough to keep him with the firm, but not enough to make him set on working with Hongjoong himself. Simple.
“Mr. Park,” he says, reaching out a hand to shake, “thanks for coming in.”
“Ms. Park,” Seonghwa corrects, grasping his hand firmly, “but just Seonghwa is fine.”
Hongjoong blinks.
Seonghwa blinks back.
“Ms. Park, then,” Hongjoong continues. No slipping into familiarity with someone this beautiful, that could be dangerous. “And do you have preferred pronouns?”
Seonghwa smiles a pretty smile.
“‘He/him’ is just fine, thank you.”
Hongjoong nods. “Have a seat, please.”
Seonghwa sits, and Hongjoong follows suit.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me on such late notice,” Seonghwa says as the two of them get situated. “Also, are you feeling better now?”
Damn it, Hongjoong was hoping he didn’t recognize him, or at least that he’d pretend he didn’t. Oh well.
He smiles brightly. “Much better, thank you. And of course, it’s no problem at all.” Well, meeting with him wasn’t a problem, but it’s now many problems—now that he knows Park Seonghwa’s the most beautiful person in the world, and now that this most beautiful person in the world has seen Hongjoong at his lowest. But Seonghwa doesn’t need to know the extent of the problems he’s created within Hongjoong. Hongjoong swallows. “What brings you here today?” he says. His voice sounds a little wobbly, even to himself.
Seonghwa crosses his legs elegantly, resting his clasped hands on them.
“I just found out a few days ago that I’m a billionaire.”
Well, ew. That certainly makes him less angelic. Nobody should have a billion dollars.
Seonghwa looks at Hongjoong as if he’s expecting some reply. Hongjoong swallows down his disdain to say, “Then you’re looking for help with asset protection and investment?”
Seonghwa’s eyebrows scrunch up.
“What? No. Why would I need that? What I need is for you to help me get rid of the money as soon as humanly possible.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on, Mr. Kim. What kind of person do you take me for? Nobody should have a billion dollars…”
Hongjoong nods slowly. He thinks he likes this guy.
“…especially not my cousin Seojoon,” Seonghwa finishes.
He looks at Hongjoong with a “you understand, of course” expression.
Hongjoong does not, in fact, understand.
He considers his words for a moment.
“…tell me more about how Seojoon fits into the problem.”
“If I’m not married soon,” Seonghwa says, “Seojoon immediately inherits my fortune. Ridiculous, I know,” he says, meeting Hongjoong’s disbelieving expression with a wry one. “My mom was such a romantic.” He laughs fondly. Sobers up. “But I won’t be getting married anytime soon, so I’ve got to find another way to keep Seojoon from getting his hands on a billion dollars.”
“Sorry for not following,” Hongjoong says, “but if you don’t want the money, why not just let it go to Seojoon?”
Of course, nobody should have a billion dollars, which is a good enough reason in itself, but Hongjoong would like as many details on the situation as possible. He’s a bit confused.
“Have you met Seo—” Seonghwa’s voice borders on hysterical. He pauses, then laughs. “No, of course you haven’t. Silly question. The point is—Seojoon is, to put it lightly, a scoundrel.”
“A scoundrel.”
“A scoundrel. I was journaling about this the other day, and I came up with a good list of words, but I think I’ll stick with scoundrel for now.” Seonghwa unclasps his hands. “The point is, the way I see it, there are three life paths for Seojoon. First, I get married, in which case he’ll be unable to get up to his scoundrel business. Unfortunately, I don’t want to get married. So that option won’t work.” He looks up at Hongjoong, as if to see if he’s following. Hongjoong nods. “Second option: I give Seojoon a billion dollars. He then proceeds to light the world on fire. I’d prefer the world remain raw, so that option will have to be a no as well.” Hongjoong laughs, and Seonghwa sighs, laying his palms down flat on the desk in front of him. “The only remaining option is this: I get rid of the billion dollars and deprive Seojoon of any opportunities for scoundrelism. He has plenty to live on now, of course, but not enough to make much of his scoundrel potential.” He sighs again. “In conclusion, this is the only real option.”
“This being… spending your money?”
“Not just spending it, Mr. Kim. Spending it well.”
“Which means…”
Seonghwa leans back in his chair. “That’s really where you come in. I don’t know which charities are legitimate, what causes need funding the most, the best way to go about all that. I’m in a bit of a bubble, to be honest. I don’t tend to donate to charities much, since I can’t figure them out. I try to use my money in other ways. But a billion dollars is too much for me to handle on my own.”
Hongjoong nods, then stretches his neck a bit, wincing at the ache in it.
“And I don’t want this to be too public,” Seonghwa adds, “‘cause I don’t want Seojoon to find out and jump me. Or the paparazzi. You know how people get about charitable people.” Seonghwa scoffs.
“So the goal,” Hongjoong says, to clarify, “is to do as much good as possible as quietly as possible.”
“Exactly!”
Seonghwa’s smile is blinding, and Hongjoong feels a bit dizzy. What can he say? A strong moral compass (and a pretty smile) is a turn-on for him. Besides, this whole situation is rather odd. His head hurts.
“Also,” Seonghwa adds, “as quickly as possible.”
“Okay. What’s the timeline?”
“Seojoon gets my inheritance on his birthday, which is in a month. So the money has to be gone by then.”
“Holy shi—” Hongjoong cuts himself off. Clears his throat. “Sorry. Uh. One month?”
Seonghwa nods. He’s leaning forward across his desk, his face folded into what could be described as a pout.
“You will help me, won’t you?” he says, eyes big and shiny.
Hongjoong swallows. Now’s the time he’s supposed to pass Seonghwa off to another accountant. Pass the baton. Live in peace for the rest of his days. But…this case is insane. He can’t do that to his coworkers. It’s fine, he can handle working one more month than planned.
“I’m not sure how qualified I am to handle this level of finances, but if you’re comfortable with that…” he trails off to give Seonghwa an out. Holds his breath. If Seonghwa doesn’t take this out, Hongjoong is screwed. He bites at his lip.
“It’ll mostly be consulting work,” Seonghwa says, with a bright smile. “And I have complete confidence in you. You’ve been highly recommended by everyone I talked to, and I talked to a lot of people.”
“Well, then,” Hongjoong says weakly, unsure what to do with the praise. Feeling the weight of the world crushing down on his shoulders. “I’d be happy to help.”
Seonghwa bestows another blinding smile upon him.
“Let’s set up another appointment in the next few days,” Hongjoong soldiers on, before the smile can get to him, “to finalize details and get to work.”
“Yes, let’s!”
Things feel a bit fuzzy, so Hongjoong hurries to schedule a time. Once it’s set he stands, reaching over his desk to shake Seonghwa’s hand once more.
“Thanks for coming in, Ms. Park, I look forward—”
Hongjoong’s head fucking hurts.
He opens his eyes to find Seonghwa hovering over him worriedly.
Shit.
“Did I pass out?” he croaks, then cringes at the sound of his voice. Cringes at the fact that Seonghwa’s here to hear his voice like that. He kind of wants to die.
Seonghwa nods. “I’m going to take you to the hospital, okay?” he says.
“Sure,” Hongjoong says weakly, closing his eyes. Then, remembering his manners— “Thank you.”
When he wakes up again, there’s a doctor hovering over him instead of Seonghwa. His old friend, Dr. Bae.
“Hongjoong,” says Dr. Bae, voice kind but a bit bored.
“Yes?” Hongjoong rasps.
“Do you feel any different than last time?”
Hongjoong shakes his head.
“Alright. I’ll just check your vitals and send you home, then.”
Hongjoong nods, closing his eyes as Dr. Bae checks his blood pressure, heart rate, temperature, and the works.
“Everything looks fine,” he says. “Make sure to stay hydrated. Come back if anything changes.” He leaves the room, and Hongjoong sits up, letting his vision clear before he gets off the bed. He needs to get back to the office, there’s work to be done, there’s—
“Hold on,” says Seonghwa. “What was that?”
“Shit,” says Hongjoong, and then he flushes. “I mean, oh. You’re still here?”
Seonghwa nods. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Only a few hours, I went home for the night.”
“Holy—” Hongjoong closes his eyes. “I’ve been here all night?”
“Yup,” says Seonghwa, “all night. Which is why I’m confused. Shouldn’t they be more worried about you?”
Hongjoong shrugs. “I’ve been in here pretty often the past few months, and they never find anything wrong. They said it’s caused by stress. There’s not much they can do to help.”
“If you’ve been in here multiple times recently,” Seonghwa says, putting a hand to his forehead, “shouldn’t they be doing more tests? Not less?”
Hongjoong shrugs again, not saying anything.
“Besides that,” says Seonghwa, standing up, “aren’t doctors supposed to make sure you’re okay with visitors hearing any test results or information they say about you? Why didn’t he ask me to leave the room?”
“I’m so sorry.” Hongjoong stands up too, putting a hand on the bed to steady himself. “I didn’t mean for you to have to deal with this.”
“No, I’m not bothered! I’m just—isn’t that some sort of privacy violation? Aren’t you worried about how little they seem to care about good medical practice?”
“I’m sure they knew they wouldn’t find anything new this time, so they probably weren’t too worried about any sort of breach of privacy. I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this.”
“No, Mr. Kim, seriously. It’s alright. But…can I give you a ride home? Or wherever you’re going? Since you’re stranded here without a car…”
“I can just get a taxi.”
“If you’d prefer that,” Seonghwa says, “but I’d really like to give you a ride.”
Hongjoong sighs. It’s almost impressive, how much he’s already inconvenienced this man in just the first little while he’s known him. He doesn’t want to add on to that, but he also doesn’t have any good reason to say no, and Seonghwa seems so worried. If it’ll ease his mind…
Seonghwa opens the passenger seat door for Hongjoong, smiling softly at him. Hongjoong averts his eyes, in order to prevent any crises.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, and climbs into the car awkwardly. He leans back against the seat, shifting his shoulders to try to ease out the stiff, twisted pain in his back.
Seonghwa closes the door once he’s safely in, walking back around and getting in the driver’s seat. He starts the car and backs out of the parking spot, his hand on Hongjoong’s headrest, neck craned to see behind him. Hongjoong makes an involuntary noise at the proximity.
“Hmm?” says Seonghwa, glancing at him, eyebrows raised just barely. If he wasn’t a client, Hongjoong might be inclined to think he was really fucking hot. Shit. Hongjoong swallows.
“Nothing,” he says.
Seonghwa hums. He pulls his arm back, taking his phone out of his pocket and tossing it into Hongjoong’s lap.
“Address?”
Hongjoong nods and types the address for Ahn and Associates Accountants into the map, handing the phone back. Seonghwa glances at it.
They drive for a while without talking, Seonghwa humming quietly.
After a bit, he says, “So, back to work?”
Hongjoong nods.
“Hmm.” Seonghwa purses his lips. “I know it’s not my business, but… are you going to be working on my project?”
“Yeah.”
Seonghwa hums again for a while. Drums his fingers on the steering wheel.
Hongjoong stares out the window to avoid looking at Seonghwa. No point in getting flustered again.
“Do you want help?” Seonghwa says, a bit loudly.
“Huh?”
“I’m not doing anything today, and I don’t want you to have to do all this work for me on your own. Besides, I can give you information you need, things like that. You know? Keep you company.”
Hongjoong makes a strangled sound, and Seonghwa glances over, concerned.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” a violent cough, “yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” He coughs a few more times.
“So, is that a no?” Seonghwa laughs lightly.
“You don’t have to give up your free time to help me with accounting.”
“Of course I don’t have to. I want to.”
Hongjoong coughs again. “Oh.”
“But of course it’s fine if you’d rather work alone.”
Hongjoong stares more fiercely out the window, his fingernails biting into his palm.
This is terrible. This is the worst thing in the universe, in fact. He can’t inconvenience Seonghwa like this. He can’t say no either, since Seonghwa offered to help so cleverly. It would feel rude to say no.
Seonghwa starts humming again.
“It would be good to have you there,” Hongjoong mumbles, finally, “to answer questions.”
“Oh lovely! I was going to be so bored today.”
An angel.
There’s something seriously wrong with this guy.
They drive in silence for a bit, and Hongjoong pulls out his phone. He hasn’t checked it since the day before. There’s a message from Mr. Ahn.
CEO Ahn Kang Min
Since I haven’t heard otherwise, I’m going to assume everything went well with Mr. Park.
I’ll be removing you from the system today like you requested.
(Just a warning, this means your ID card won’t let you into the building outside of hours anymore.)
Thanks for helping with Mr. Park, let me know if you need anything.
Well, shit.
“Um… actually,” he says, and Seonghwa glances over. “I guess the building’s closed today.”
“Oh, so you’re not going to work?”
Shit, now Seonghwa thinks he’s a slacker.
“I’ll probably do some work from home,” he says.
“Can I still help?”
Fuck this.
Hongjoong swallows. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything. We can just meet another day.”
“What?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows knit together. “No, it’s fine! As long as you’re comfortable, I’m fine working wherever.”
“Oh…”
Seonghwa glances over at Hongjoong, and Hongjoong avoids his eyes. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, turning back to watch the road.
“No,” Hongjoong rushes to say, “I’m fine with whatever you want.”
This conversation is terrifying. What if he’s reading everything wrong? Breaking some rule he’s not aware of? This feels incredibly unprofessional.
“Well,” Seonghwa says, laughing, “we might as well get some work done, then. You really are okay with me coming over, right?”
Hongjoong nods, flushing.
Seriously. Fuck this.
“Great,” says Seonghwa, tossing his phone to Hongjoong again. “Address?”
***
It’s when he’s already opened the apartment door that Hongjoong realizes he’s made a terrible mistake.
Yunho.
A flurry of footsteps sounds from the hallway.
Hongjoong has a lot of regrets. If only he had moved out after college, like a normal adult—had become best friends with anyone other than the force of nature that is Jeong Yunho—had thought for even two seconds about bringing a client into the eye of the storm—he wouldn’t be having this problem right now.
“Bella! Where the hell have you been, loca?” Yunho yells as he slides in on socked feet, tripping when he sees Seonghwa.
He catches himself on the back of a chair and straightens up quickly, an impish grin spreading across his face.
“Oh, this is where the hell you’ve been.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Hongjoong ignores him, turning to Seonghwa.
“Ms. Park, this is my roommate Yunho. I forgot he existed, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought you here.” He turns to Yunho. “This is my client, Park Seonghwa. Key word: client.”
“Right,” says Yunho, smirking. “So you were… accounting with them last night. Well, Seonghwa, if you need me to move out so you can be Hongjoong’s roommate, just say the word.”
Hongjoong glares at him.
“For accounting purposes?” Seonghwa says, and he and Yunho laugh.
“Oh, of course. I don’t know what Hongjoong’s glaring about.”
Hongjoong stalks into the kitchen, filling a cup of water for himself and chugging it.
“But, I mean,” Seonghwa says to Yunho, so Hongjoong can only barely hear, “if you’re offering…”
Hongjoong chokes and falls into a coughing fit.
“Oh, Mr. Kim,” Seonghwa is by his side in a second, patting his back gently. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Hongjoong gasps. “Yunho—you were just leaving, weren’t you?”
Yunho smiles innocently. “No, I’m home all day. Lucky you!”
“Yunho…”
“If you forgot I existed, it must mean I haven’t bothered you enough lately. Don’t worry, I’ll fix that!”
“I need to work…” Hongjoong waves his hand weakly. “Confidential case…”
“Oh. Well, you have a perfectly fine bedroom for privacy.”
“Yunho!” he squeaks, and Seonghwa pats him on the back again.
Yunho beams, plopping down on the couch and turning on the TV. “Yeosang’s coming over later for Mario Kart night if you guys wanna join. Have fun accounting! Use asset protection.”
Hongjoong closes his eyes to avoid the sight of Seonghwa grinning beside him.
“I guess we’ll work in my room, if that’s alright with you,” he mutters.
This was all a terrible plan.
“Of course!” Seonghwa says lightly. “Lead the way.”
“The more I think about it,” Seonghwa says, mouth full of chicken, “the more the first option is sounding appealing.”
Hongjoong swallows a mouthful of rice and clears his throat. “The first option?”
“Marriage.”
Hongjoong chokes on nothing, food raised halfway to his mouth. Choking seems to be becoming a bit of an issue lately.
“Oh,” he says, quite calmly, once his coughs have died out. “Why?”
“Well, this is all so much more complicated than I expected. And all the best ways to get rid of the money will take longer than a month. It would be nice if there wasn’t a deadline.”
“Yeah. I guess so. So are you going to get married?”
Never in a million years did Hongjoong think he’d be eating chicken in his bedroom with a client, talking about marriage.
“No,” says Seonghwa. “Just thinking.”
“Alright.” Hongjoong hauls himself up from where he’s sprawled on the ground, back to sitting. “I guess I should get back to work. Thanks again for ordering food, I forgot we hadn’t eaten.”
“No problem.”
“So,” Hongjoong focuses on his laptop, clicking through his hundreds of open tabs, “thoughts on donating to museums? We mentioned that briefly but you never said what you thought about it…”
“Sounds cool, but…not quite what I was thinking.” Seonghwa shrugs.
“Okay.”
Hongjoong types for a while, while Seonghwa finishes off the last of the food.
“Scholarships… you could give out a bunch.”
“Oh! Like for med school! Since we need better doctors around this joint.” Seonghwa gives Hongjoong a pointed look.
“Yeah, something like that.” Hongjoong’s not sure why Seonghwa’s still hung up on the doctor issue. It’s really not that big of a deal.
“Could I do enough in a month?”
“Well, probably. But it would be hard to keep it quiet.”
Seonghwa nods.
“You could do something to feed people who can’t buy food. It would probably take too long, though…”
They spend a rather depressing hour vetoing every option either of them suggests, and are brought back to Earth by the sound of the doorbell ringing, closely followed by a cacophony of voices.
“Damn it, they brought Wooyoung,” Hongjoong mutters.
Seonghwa looks at him curiously, and he rushes to correct himself. “I love Wooyoung! He’s just so loud. There’s no way we’ll be able to focus.”
“Are we not going to Mario Kart night?” Seonghwa asks, eyebrows knitting together.
Hongjoong looks at him incredulously. “Do you have no sense of self-preservation?”
Seonghwa smiles. “Yunho seemed nice.”
“He was nice to you. He was trying to end my life.”
A beautiful laugh. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ve kind of hit a wall here, too. It would be good to get a break.”
Hongjoong sighs. This is a terrible plan. “I guess so,” he says. “If you want. But this really isn’t how my client meetings normally go. None of this.”
“Luckily, I’m not just a client,” Seonghwa stands up and reaches for the door knob. “I’m also your personal ambulance.”
This is not good. Seonghwa is just a client. Nothing more. No ambulance, no nothing. Hongjoong drags his feet as he trails after him to the living room.
Yunho looks up as Seonghwa enters the living room, grinning. “You came!”
“Multiple times, hopefully,” Wooyoung says, and Hongjoong turns on his heel, heading straight back to his bedroom.
As he crosses the threshold, a hand grabs his wrist. He turns around, coming face to face with Seonghwa, much closer than he expected. His breath hitches. Damn it, he has got to get himself under control.
“Come on, Mr. Kim,” Seonghwa says softly, “don’t worry about them. I’m not bothered.”
His eyes are worried, flitting back and forth between Hongjoong’s.
“I’m bothered,” says Hongjoong. He probably sounds like a grumpy toddler. He feels like a grumpy toddler.
“I’ll ask them to stop. They will if I ask, won’t they?” Seonghwa bends down a bit to look in Hongjoong’s eyes more earnestly.
Hongjoong huffs, looking away.
“Please, Mr. Kim?” Seonghwa tugs on Hongjoong’s wrist. Hongjoong can see him pouting out of the corner of his eye. His wrist feels tingly. “I want to play Mario Kart with you and your friends.”
“Enemies,” Hongjoong mutters, but he lets himself be pulled down the hallway, shuffling after Seonghwa into the living room again.
Yunho and Wooyoung are giggling, but they quiet down as the two walk back into the living room, Wooyoung scrambling to scoot over on the couch to make room for them.
Hongjoong sits next to Wooyoung to prevent him from having any sort of private conversation with Seonghwa, and Seonghwa plops down next to him, leaning back into the couch with a sigh.
“Long day?” Yeosang says.
“Yeah,” says Seonghwa, laughing. “Accounting is hard.”
“This isn’t even real accounting,” Hongjoong says. He remembers too late that he’s talking to a client, and he’s supposed to be polite. Not undermine the client’s efforts. Fuck.
“Yeah, and it’s already hard.”
“That’s what she sai—” Wooyoung starts, but stops when Hongjoong whips around to pin an icy glare on him.
“Wooyoung,” he says, voice tight, “this is Ms. Park Seonghwa, a client of mine.” He puts extra stress on the word ‘client’, to drive the point home.
“Great! You know, Sannie was once my client.”
“You don’t have a job,” says Yeosang.
“Not important. All I’m saying is, the clients to lovers pipeline is real.”
“You and San aren’t lovers,” Yeosang blinks.
“Also not important.”
Seonghwa laughs, leaning forward and reaching across Hongjoong to shake Wooyoung’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Wooyoung.”
“Nice to meet you too, Ms. Park Seonghwa, Hongjoong’s client.” Wooyoung smirks.
Hongjoong rolls his eyes.
Seonghwa laughs again. “Just Seonghwa is fine. And I really am just a client, so please don’t bother Mr. Kim too much.” He leans back into his own space, smiling at Hongjoong as he does.
Hongjoong feels his face flush a bit.
“This is Yeosang,” he says, gesturing to their left.
Yeosang nods. “I’m Yeosang,” he corroborates.
“Nice to meet you,” says Seonghwa, with a little wave.
Yeosang waves back.
“Alright,” says Yunho, tossing a controller into each of their laps, “enough talk. Let’s race.”
Hongjoong is soundly crushed in Mario Kart. His fingers feel like jelly, too weak to move the controls, and his arms feel heavy.
After the seventh race in which he comes dead last, he relinquishes his controller and sinks back into the couch, sulking and listening to the others’ banter.
Seonghwa relaxes back onto the couch next to him, calmly coasting in third place.
“You don’t want to keep playing?” he says quietly.
Hongjoong shrugs.
“We can go back and work more if you want.”
“No, it’s fine. I like watching.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
Seonghwa nods and adjusts himself to be more comfortable, shoulder pressing up against Hongjoong’s.
Hongjoong stiffens, vision blurring as the racers flash across the screen.
Seonghwa seems unaware of the system malfunction he’s caused, humming a bit as his thumbs move on the controller. Hongjoong can feel Seonghwa’s arms shifting against him with the movement.
An accountant is unaffected by a client’s muscle movements during Mario Kart.
An accountant does not notice how warm a client’s skin is.
An accountant does not find the ease with which a client plays Mario Kart to be attractive.
Hongjoong is proud of his new mantras. They came to him in a flash of inspiration. He’s sure they’re universally applicable. He repeats them in his mind until they don’t even feel like words anymore.
They’re quite effective.
His arm feels warm, for some reason.
He’s torn from his trance by the sound of the doorbell.
Wooyoung is on his feet in a second, abandoning his controller and scrambling to open the door.
“Pizza’s here,” he shrieks, slamming the door shut and running back into the living room. He drops the pizza on the coffee table, leaving again to the kitchen and coming back with far too much beer for their little group.
“Alright everyone,” says Yunho, flinging open the first pizza box and grabbing himself a beer, “dig in.”
Seonghwa sets down his controller and looks over at Hongjoong. “Hungry?” he says.
Hongjoong shakes his head.
“Me neither. Should we go back and research some more?”
Hongjoong nods, and Seonghwa stands up, turning around and holding out his hand to help Hongjoong up. Hongjoong takes it gingerly, letting go as soon as he’s on his feet.
“You’re not gonna eat with us?” Yunho says, mouth already full.
“No, we ate earlier,” says Seonghwa. “Thanks for letting me play, though! You guys are so fun.”
“Not as much fun as whatever Hongjoong’s about to—” Hongjoong doesn’t hear the end of Wooyoung’s sentence because Seonghwa is shepherding him back to his bedroom, saying some nonsense to drown out Wooyoung’s voice.
The bedroom door shuts, and they sit down in silence.
Hongjoong takes a deep breath, rubbing his arm.
“I’m sorry about them,” he says.
“What? They’re lovely! Don’t worry at all.”
Hongjoong smiles stiffly. “Well, thanks for being so nice about it. Anyway…”
Seonghwa looks at him expectantly. Hongjoong’s brain feels foggy. It’s hard to formulate words. He can’t do this. He’s a terrible accountant. He never should have taken this job.
“I know we need to keep working,” he says, running a hand over his face, “but I’m feeling stuck. We might need to sleep on it.”
Seonghwa nods and stands up.
Hongjoong looks up at him.
“Are you okay with that?” he says.
“Of course!” Seonghwa’s eyebrows knit up. He seems to look confused often when he’s with Hongjoong. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, we have a deadline, and I should be working for a few more hours…”
Seonghwa waves a hand dismissively. “No, we probably wouldn’t have gotten any further today anyway. And you need rest.”
Hongjoong rolls his eyes and stands up.
He wakes up to find himself buried in big, fluffy white blankets, head leaned back on soft pillows, Seonghwa hovering over him.
“I passed out again,” Hongjoong says, voice a bit raw.
Seonghwa smiles slightly. “You did.”
Hongjoong sighs.
There’s a rap on the door, and it opens, a woman poking her head in.
“Alright, Seonghwa,” she says, “get out.”
Seonghwa obeys, and the woman walks up to Hongjoong’s bed.
“Hi, I’m Soyeon. Just so you’re aware, this isn’t a public hospital. It’s a private practice. I run it with a team of specialists. Is that alright?”
Hongjoong nods, a bit confused.
“Okay. Are you okay with me doing a few tests? Just some blood work to start off with.”
A while after Soyeon (Hongjoong asked her surname so he could address her professionally and she ignored him) leaves, there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Come in!” Hongjoong calls, and Seonghwa opens the door, walking over to sit in the chair by the bed.
“You passed out last night, and when I talked about it with Yunho, he said I should bring you to the hospital, so I brought you here. I hope that was okay.”
“It’s fine,” Hongjoong says, closing his eyes. Damn it, Yunho. Why not just bring me yourself? Why make my client do it? “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why all this stuff is ending up being your problem.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Seonghwa says, waving a hand. “It’s no bother.”
There’s another knock on the door, and Soyeon sticks her head in.
“Your results are back.” She looks at Seonghwa and then back at Hongjoong, jutting a thumb towards Seonghwa. “Do you want him to leave while I tell you?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Okay. Well, everything looks normal. I’ll let you get some more rest and we can talk more about that.”
She leaves, door clicking shut behind her.
“…normal,” says Seonghwa.
“That’s good,” Hongjoong says absentmindedly, staring at the ceiling.
“No, that’s not good. How are we supposed to know what’s wrong now?”
Hongjoong lifts his head. “We already know, remember? Stress.”
Seonghwa levels a flat look at him. “Hongj—Mr. Kim. Come on.”
He settles further down into the pillows. “I’ll be more careful about standing up quickly.”
Seonghwa presses his hands to his eyes, sighing. Opens his eyes and stands up. “I’m gonna grab some food, what do you want?”
Hongjoong shrugs again, and Seonghwa rolls his eyes with a wry smile and leaves.
Hongjoong reaches over to the bedside table, picking up his phone. Sunday. 9:52 AM. He closes his eyes and sighs. The phone drops onto his lap, his arm falling limply beside it. The muscles in his fingers ache, and he flexes them gently.
It would be nice if he had his laptop here. He could be working right now. He’ll ask Seonghwa to pick it up for him, if they won’t let him leave.
The door opens and Seonghwa slips in, holding a glass of water and a bagel. “The cafeteria doesn’t open until ten, and Soyeon needs to go shopping, so I just ordered chicken again,” he says. “But I brought you a bagel.”
He holds it out, and Hongjoong takes it, murmuring a soft thanks.
Seonghwa sits down in the chair by the bed again. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. I was wondering if you could—” he stops. He forgot about Yunho again. He can’t sacrifice Seonghwa to the wolves again—and alone. He can’t even imagine the things Yunho might say; and that’s assuming Wooyoung didn’t sleep over, which he almost certainly did. Besides, was he really about to send a client on an errand? What is up with him lately? He takes a deep breath.
“Hmm?” says Seonghwa, leaning forward.
“Never mind.”
“Are you sure?”
Hongjoong nods, looking down at his hands. He squeezes up and down his fingers, trying to think of something to say to make Seonghwa forget that he was about to ask for something.
“I have time—” Seonghwa says, right as Hongjoong says, “How soon can I go home?”
Seonghwa presses his lips into a thin line. “Mr. Kim, I…” he sighs. “I can go ask Soyeon, if you’d like.”
Hongjoong nods again, and Seonghwa walks out, looking like someone sent to dish duty.
He’s back in no time at all, trying (and failing) to look sympathetic as he says, “Soyeon says it’s best for you to stay until you’ve talked to her, which will be a few hours from now.”
Hongjoong collapses down into the pillows with a groan.
“Why do you want to go home so bad?”
Hongjoong grunts. Unprofessional, but it’ll have to do.
“Worried about work?”
He snaps his head up, meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. How can Seonghwa understand his animalistic communications? Not even Yunho can do that. Seonghwa smiles at his surprise.
“We can do some work now, if you want,” he says.
Hongjoong drops back into the pillows. “I don’t have my laptop.”
“I can go pick it up for you!” Seonghwa’s on his feet before he’s finished the sentence.
“No!”
Seonghwa blinks.
“Oh. Why not?”
“Yunho’s there,” Hongjoong mutters.
“Huh? I didn’t catch that…”
“Yunho’s there.”
Seonghwa laughs, though he stifles it quickly, to his credit. “That’s no problem.”
“He’ll say something inappropriate…”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“And I can’t send my client to run errands for me.”
“Pretend for thirty minutes that I’m not your client.”
Hongjoong shakes his head.
“Okay, pretend for thirty minutes that I’m your client who desperately needs help with a huge financial problem and the only way I can get help is if you have your laptop. Oh wait, you don’t have to pretend—it’s true.”
Hongjoong glares at him. “Fine.”
“Great! I’ll make sure someone brings the food in if it gets here before I’m back.” He’s out of the room before Hongjoong can thank him.
Hongjoong passes the time until Seonghwa is back pleasantly, daydreaming about all the horrible sexual things Yunho could possibly say in the three minutes Seonghwa will be in the apartment. Yunho’s quite creative, so the possibilities are really endless. The time passes like it’s nothing, Hongjoong’s musings only interrupted briefly by a nurse coming in to schedule a follow-up appointment with Soyeon to get some more in-depth tests done. He leaves, and Hongjoong goes back to his terror.
When Seonghwa returns seemingly unscathed, Hongjoong sighs in relief and relaxes.
He hadn’t noticed how tense his whole body was, but the soreness in all his muscles now reminds him.
“Did Yunho… say anything he shouldn’t?” he asks, just to be sure.
“No,” Seonghwa says, and Hongjoong lets go of the last of his worries. “Wooyoung did, though.”
Hongjoong chokes on his spit.
“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Kim.”
“No, what did he say? Are you alright?”
“I’m just fine,” Seonghwa laughs. “And are you sure you want to know?”
“I need to know how much I need to apologize.”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but tells him. “He asked if the hospital bed was better or worse than yours.”
Hongjoong drops his face into his hands. “Fuck him,” he mutters, trying to be quiet, but Seonghwa still hears him, laughing and setting his laptop on the bed. Hongjoong sits up, reaching behind him to adjust the pillows a bit, but Seonghwa’s already fixing them.
“I’m so sorry, Seonghwa. I really… I know… I hope you aren’t bothered.”
Seonghwa laughs and assures him that everything’s fine.
He’s unconvinced, but there’s not much to be done about it now. He opens his laptop and pulls up his files on the Seonghwa situation. Lists of half-baked solutions, all vetoed. Links to charities’ websites. A fuck ton of math.
He’s not even sure where to pick back up. He went to school for financial management because he was good at being stingy, not because he was good at spending.
He’s typing, vaguely aware of Seonghwa watching him. It’s only after the third time he pauses typing to stretch his fingers that Seonghwa interrupts him.
“Mr. Kim, are your hands okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been noticing since yesterday—you pause to stretch or massage your fingers a lot. Do they hurt?”
“A bit. I do a lot of typing, so it makes sense.”
“They only hurt a little bit?”
Hongjoong shrugs. “I only have to take a few pauses. It’s not like I’m not able to type at all.”
Seonghwa narrows his eyes. “Your hands are shaking right now.”
Hongjoong looks down at them. Calls them to attention. They keep shaking. How rude.
He looks up at Seonghwa. “They are.”
Seonghwa nods. “Are your hands the only thing that hurts?”
“Obviously everything hurts, that’s part of being human. None of it’s too bad.”
“Everything hurts?”
Seonghwa doesn’t sound as calm about this as he should be.
“Yeah, but not to a weird level.”
“Mr. Kim.”
“Yes?”
“It’s not normal for everything to hurt. I’m not in any pain right now.”
“Well yeah, it’s not like pain, it just kind of aches.”
“First of all, that’s pain. Second of all, I don’t ache at all right now.”
“Not at all?”
Seonghwa shakes his head.
Hongjoong frowns. “That’s weird. Have you talked to Soyeon?”
Seonghwa lets out a short laugh. “The worst part is you’re probably serious.”
Seonghwa’s not making any sense, so Hongjoong ignores him, going back to fruitless research.
“How long have you had so many aches?” Seonghwa asks.
Hongjoong pauses typing to think. “Since sometime in high school.”
Seonghwa drops his head into his hands, sighing.
“Has it gotten worse since then?”
Hongjoong nods.
“Have you always passed out regularly?”
Hongjoong shakes his head.
Seonghwa takes a deep breath, looking at his phone and standing up. “Well, the food just got here, so I’m gonna go grab it and you can eat. But you should tell Soyeon this stuff when she comes to see you.”
Hongjoong doesn’t respond, just keeps working.
Or trying to. He can barely think through the fog that keeps swimming around in his brain. His fingers hurt. His back hurts. He’s gotten out of practice doing actual work, anyway.
This was why he wasn’t supposed to take on Seonghwa. He should have stuck to his original plan—he was just too flustered by Seonghwa to think clearly enough to refuse the job.
Guilt creeps through his body. Seonghwa’s going to be stuck with an incompetent accountant just because Hongjoong had a middle-school level crush.
Worse, after all Seonghwa’s done for him, Hongjoong can’t do anything in return. It looks like even subpar work is out of the question now. And he couldn’t even do the common courtesy of letting Seonghwa know ahead of time that he wouldn’t be of any use.
He closes his eyes, feeling tears start to prickle in them. He blinks rapidly, then jumps at the sight of Seonghwa right there, watching him. He must have just come in.
“My eyes hurt,” Hongjoong excuses.
Seonghwa hands him a bucket of chicken. “Do they hurt all the time too?” he says, glancing at the bright screen of Hongjoong’s laptop, concerned. Even when he needs Hongjoong to be working, Seonghwa’s still worried.
“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says.
Seonghwa seems to sense the gravity in Hongjoong’s voice, because his eyes snap up to make contact with Hongjoong’s watery ones, and he leans forward. “What’s wrong, Mr. Kim?”
Hongjoong closes his eyes, then opens them. “I can’t do this.”
Seonghwa blinks. “Can’t do what?”
“This job. I…” he trails off.
Seonghwa’s silent for a few seconds. Then, in an odd voice, he says, “Did I do something wrong?”
Hongjoong shakes his head. “No. I shouldn’t have taken the job. I knew I shouldn’t, but I did anyway. I’m not sure I ever would have been able to solve your problem, and now, when I’m… a bit weaker than normal… I’ll do my best, but—”
“Absolutely not,” says Seonghwa. “If you don’t feel well there’s no way I’ll keep making you work.”
Hongjoong sighs. “Ms. Park… I’m so sorry. I can recommend some other accountants if you’d like.”
Seonghwa lets out a breath. “Don’t be sorry, Mr. Kim. Your health is the first priority. Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.”
Opening his eyes, Hongjoong shakes his head. “I know it’s not that simple. I’m sorry.”
“It really is that simple. I’ve always figured things out before. I can do it again. But what about you? Will you be able to at least keep working a bit?”
Hongjoong looks out the window. “You were my last client. I finished offloading all the others last week.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked you to help me?”
“It didn’t come up,” Hongjoong says weakly.
Seonghwa starts to roll his eyes, then stops and squeezes them shut, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Mr. Kim. I—I—” he covers his face with his hands.
“I’m sorry…” Hongjoong whispers.
“No, that’s not—my god, Mr. Kim, if you apologize one more time…” He stands up and walks toward the door. “Eat the chicken,” he throws over his shoulder as he leaves.
“If you need any help, let me know!” Hongjoong calls out weakly, right before the door shuts.
No response, and that’s that.