Archive of Our Own

*

“Can you believe this?!” Seungcheol shouts, voice echoing through the dealership as he shakes a crumpled piece of paper above his head. 

He’s loud enough to be heard through Hansol’s headphones, morning meditation rudely interrupted. Hansol glances up, hoping that will be it, but Seungcheol doesn’t stop stomping around, huffing and puffing. 

Hansol pulls out one airpod, frowning to express his general distaste for Seungcheol’s antics. “Can you use your inside voice? I’m trying to get in the zone, here.” 

“No!” Seungcheol explodes, throwing his hands up. He spins around, pointing at Hansol, then a click to Hansol’s right towards Wonwoo and Joshua, then a click to their right towards Soonyoung and Chan. “Where are Jeonghan and Junhui?!” He raises his voice to a yell, “Team meeting! Now!” 

Hansol groans, rolling his eyes back into his head. He pauses Pinkerton halfway through El Scorcho. Horrible place to stop. Leans over towards Wonwoo and lowers his voice, “What the hell is wrong with him?” 

Wonwoo shakes his head. “I don’t know. I saw him talking to three old ladies in the parking lot, but I don’t know what they could have given him to send him flying off the handle like this.” 

“Maybe he hates women.” 

“That’s one theory,” Wonwoo agrees with a snort. He glances over his shoulder to make sure Joshua isn’t listening before he continues in a whisper, “Hey, do you have Joshua’s mom’s phone number by chance? I really need to get in touch with her—” 

Hansol narrows his eyes. “Now why would I have that, Wonwoo?” 

“I don’t know! You two seem close.” 

“You’re closer with him! He’s your boyfriend!” 

“Moms like you more than they like me!” 

“Only because I sleep with them! You don’t like women!” 

Wonwoo’s face falls into a comical frown. “So, you haven’t fucked Josh’s mom?” 

“No, Wonwoo.” 

“God damn it.” 

“Stop gossiping!” Seungcheol barks. “This is an emergency!” 

Hansol and Wonwoo spring back into their seats. Jeonghan has wandered out from the office, draping himself over Seungcheol’s back to read the mysterious paper over his shoulder. 

Soonyoung lets out a low whistle, meeting Hansol’s eyes across Wonwoo’s desk just to spin his finger next to his head, indicating that Seungcheol has gone insane. 

Junhui appears from the bathroom a second later, looking like he’s seen a ghost. He rubs his temple and shakes his head. Hansol doesn’t have the capacity to think about that right now. 

“Great, everyone’s here.” Seungcheol grits his teeth. “I want everyone to take a long, hard look at this omen I received…” He checks his watch. “Not ten minutes ago.” 

He extends his arms, walking up to Hansol’s desk and shoving the paper in his face to read before slowly moving on to Wonwoo and Joshua. 

It’s an invitation. Or, it would be if someone hadn’t scribbled “NOT!” with an arrow between are and invited. 

“Did those old ladies give that to you?” Wonwoo asks, squinting at the page as his glasses slide down his nose. 

“Yes! Right after they told me that I’m destined to have the most successful car dealership in the metro region.” Seungcheol finishes his rounds, holding the invitation in front of Junhui, even though Junhui seems to stare straight past it in his stupor. Seungcheol returns to Jeonghan’s side, jamming his finger into the paper, making a loud thwack sound. “I believe they were trying to send me a message.” 

“Yeah, the message that you’re not invited to Jihoon’s party,” Joshua says. 

Soonyoung laughs a little too loudly, and Seungcheol’s hand closes around the invitation, crumpling it further. 

“We need to do something about this,” Seungcheol decides. “I need more information. What the hell is his goal, here?” 

“He’s obviously trying to tear us to the ground,” Jeonghan says. Even from across the way, Hansol can see the fire behind his eyes. “We can’t stand for it, Cheollie.” 

Seungcheol puffs his chest up a bit. Nods. “Yeah. I agree. We can’t.” 

“I think you need to kill him,” Jeonghan says. It comes out a little too seriously. He’s locked in on Seungcheol, hand gripping his arm so tight that his knuckles go white. 

Seungcheol raises his hand, palm flat, shaking his head once. “No. We’re not killing him. That’s too easy.” 

“Seungcheol, it’s what the fates want. Why else would this be delivered specially to you?” Jeonghan hisses. 

Hansol glances over at Wonwoo to see if he’s catching a weird vibe, too. Wonwoo has his eyes narrowed, frown etched into his face. 

Chan laughs nervously. “Woah,” he says. 

“Hannie, listen to yourself—” Seungcheol tries to pry Jeonghan’s fingers off his bicep. 

Jeonghan glares at him. “We’ll discuss this later,” he snaps before turning on his heel and stalking off. 

Seungcheol sighs, lips pressed together. He watches Jeonghan in a forlorn matter for a second before turning his attention back to the group. “I need a few of you to go to this party,” he announces. “Undercover.” 

“What the fuck does that mean, Seungcheol?” Joshua pipes up. He stalks across the floor just to snatch the invitation from Seungcheol’s hand. “It’s not even a costume party. How would we go undercover if no one is in a costume?” 

“It doesn’t matter! You know how Jihoon is. All we have to do is fit his level of pomp.” Seungcheol clicks his tongue. His eyes scan over his employees. “Which is why I’m sending Soonyoung and Chan. They’re the only ones that can pull it off.” 

“Booyah!” Soonyoung whoops, jumping up from his seat. 

Chan leans back in his chair, grin spreading across his face. He shrugs. “Can’t argue with that.” 

“And I’m sending Hansol with you to keep you on task,” Seungcheol adds. 

“What?!” Hansol chokes. One of his airpods falls out of his ear and skitters across the floor. “Why can’t you send Junhui?” 

Everyone turns to look at Junhui at the same time. He’s still off to the edge of the circle. Muttering something about his uncle, maybe? Hansol can’t hear him very well. 

“Okay… Nevermind.” Hansol takes a deep breath. “Send Wonwoo, then.” 

“He’s terrible at undercover work.” Joshua frowns. “And I obviously can’t do it because Jihoon knows me a little too well.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Joshua widens his eyes. “You don’t want to know.” 

Seungcheol claps. “It’s settled, then. Hansol, Chan, Soonyoung, you’re going to Jihoon’s party.” 

“Dude, what the hell, is that even legal?” Hansol groans. 

“I’ll give you fifty bucks,” Seungcheol offers. 

Hansol shuts his mouth. “Deal.” 

+

“Hey, Joshy, can I borrow your T necklace? It goes with my outfit.” Soonyoung leans forward into the space between Joshua’s front seats, right over the console. 

“Okay, first of all, stop calling me that, and second of all, my what?” 

“Y’know,” Soonyoung gestures to Joshua’s neck, moving his finger in the shape of a plus sign. “Your T.” 

“My crucifix?” Joshua elbows him back into his seat and squints at him through the rearview mirror. “No, you can’t borrow my crucifix, Soonyoung. Jesus Christ. Isn’t it enough that I’m dropping you idiots off?” 

“Well it would look pretty stupid if we walked over from across the street,” Chan laughs. “And your windows are way tinted. Like, I think this is illegal, but it’s pretty good for undercover work.” 

Joshua pulls into the parking lot of Jihoon’s dealership, hitting his brake a little too harshly. His passengers all jerk forward. 

“Get out of my car,” Joshua orders. 

Hansol gives him a two-fingered salute before climbing out of the passenger’s side. He winces, adjusting his suit jacket when he’s back on his feet. He feels fucking ridiculous. Seungcheol rented him this outfit for tonight. It’s royal purple. His shirt is unbuttoned to his sternum like he’s a fucking sleaze. Chan is in an emerald green version of the same outfit, a fedora on his head, and Soonyoung is wearing fur and sunglasses. At night. 

As soon as they’re out of the car, Joshua speeds off, leaving the three of them standing in the parking lot. 

Jihoon’s dealership is leaking light through the windows, the loud bass of the music playing inside bumping out into the night. 

They showed up fashionably late, mostly to make sure there was enough going on inside to keep them hidden. 

“Don’t you think Seokmin will recognize you two?” Hansol asks, glancing over at Soonyoung and Chan. “He was literally your coworker as of six months ago.” 

Soonyoung snorts like Hansol is stupid. Chan laughs loudly, smacking his shoulder. “No. We look entirely different!” He gestures to his outfit. “I never wore hats to work.” 

Hansol stares at him. “Okay.” 

He hasn’t admitted it to anyone yet, but Hansol is a little excited about the party. He was talking to Minghao, the guy that sells them tires, and Minghao said he’d be here tonight. 

Hansol spent one wild night with Minghao the Tire Guy last year, and he’s been chasing the high ever since. Junhui has been fucking Minghao the Tire Guy, too, with much more regularity than Hansol ever was, but now that Junhui is seeing ghosts in the bathroom, Hansol thinks maybe he finally has a shot with Minghao again. 

Worst case scenario, he manages to bag a hot lady over forty-five to take home tonight. Apparently Jihoon is notorious for inviting cougars to his parties. 

The Tire Guy or a hot lady… Hansol’s not picky. 

Soonyoung leads them around the back of the dealership. They sneak in through the door there— the lock is janky. Always has been. It’s not hard to slip into the crowd unnoticed from there. 

The party is loud. Garish. The three of them fit right in, even in their ridiculous get-ups. Hansol has never seen so many women with such tall hair in his life. 

“I heard that Jihoon was Italian, but this is… wow,” Chan breathes, shaking his head as he takes everything in. 

“Jihoon is Italian?” Hansol tries to peek over the crowd to find the man in question, but everyone’s hair is so tall, and Jihoon is so short. It’s an impossible task. 

“Yeah.” Soonyoung nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet to the music. 

“Jihoon. Jihoon Lee. Italian?” 

Soonyoung shoots him a dirty look. “What, are you prejudiced or something?” 

Hansol shakes his head. “Nevermind.” He turns to Chan, dipping down to whisper into his ear. “What exactly are we looking for here?” 

“Anything that could take them down,” Chan replies, bringing his hand up and slowly closing it into a fist. Ominous. 

“Okay.” Hansol takes a deep breath. “I’m going to find a drink.” 

“Oh! I’ll come with you!” Soonyoung chirps. He loops his arm with Hansol’s. 

“Me too!” Chan loops his arm with Soonyoung’s. 

Hansol’s life is so fucking stupid. 

The bar is pushed against the far wall. Hansol orders something alcoholic for himself, and something decidedly non-alcoholic for Soonyoung and Chan. 

They very nonchalantly blend back into the crowd. Hansol hears a few conversations about blood money. Shipping and handling. Some other stuff that doesn’t sound important to him. 

When they finally lock in on Jihoon, it’s been almost half an hour since they arrived. 

They’ve moved the show car off the podium in the middle of the dealership and replaced it with some sort of makeshift throne. Jihoon sits there, a tall, jacked guy perched on one arm of the chair in a heavy fur coat. On his other side, a tall, beautiful woman hovers over his shoulder, her hand resting on the back of his seat. Whenever someone approaches, they pick up Jihoon’s hand and kiss his ring. 

“What the fuck?” Hansol chokes on his drink. 

“I respect it,” Soonyoung says. He takes off his sunglasses for the first time all night to get a closer look. “That’s how everyone should treat me.” 

“I can kiss your hand, if you want.” Chan immediately puts his words into action, grabbing Soonyoung’s arm and kissing his hand silly. Soonyoung is left giggling. 

Hansol hates being the only single one of his coworkers. It’s painful. 

He takes the chance to split off from thing one and thing two, hoping he can put his plan to get laid into action. 

It seems the fates favor him tonight. He wanders around for a little bit before parking himself next to an incredibly realistic looking fake potted plant. As soon as he touches one of the leaves, someone calls his name. 

“Hansol!” 

Hansol turns. It’s like a dream. Minghao floats up to him, smiling, drink in his hand and suit perfectly drycleaned. 

“Oh, hey, Minghao. I was hoping we’d run into each other,” Hansol laughs, going to run a hand through his hair but realizing too late that it’s all gelled back. He ends up sliding his palm over the smooth surface. He probably looks stupid as fuck. “How are you doing?” 

“Well…” Minghao leans in, lowering his voice. “Is it just me, or does this place have crazy fucking vibes…” 

Hansol lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, no, it’s not just you. What’s with the ring on bossman?” 

“Right?!” Minghao laughs. He has a nice laugh. Hansol enjoys it. “I swear I heard someone talking about, like, guns?” 

“Hah! That’s crazy.” Hansol shakes his head. “Hey, so, how are things with Junhui lately?” 

Perfect segway. Hansol would pat himself on the back if he could without looking awkward. 

“Oh.” Minghao looks surprised for a second before he makes a face. Jackpot. “They’ve been better, I guess. He’s been acting a little strangely.” 

“Hah. Yeah. I bet.” Hansol nods, sucking his drink from his tiny straw. 

Minghao frowns. “Did you hear anything about his uncle coming to visit?” 

“Dunno…” Hansol’s eyes scan over the crowd, trying to find an escape route for when he and Minghao inevitably start tonguing. 

“He’s just been really off, and it’s upsetting, I guess. I thought there was something real there—” 

Hansol’s eyes lock onto someone across the room. He can only see his profile for a moment. A soft, round cheek and a pretty nose. His shirt is tucked into his pants, emphasizing his tiny waist. And then he laughs, and turns, giving Hansol a full view of his smile— Hansol’s heart drops out of his ass. 

“Oh shit,” he blurts. 

“Sorry, did you think you had a chance with me?” Minghao asks plainly. 

Hansol appreciates his bluntness, but he’s got other things to worry about. He just fell in love. 

“No— oh, shit, who is that?” He nods in the direction of the love of his life. 

Minghao crowds closer to look where Hansol is looking. He tsks. “Seokmin. You know him.” 

“No!” Hansol wrinkles his nose. “Next to Seokmin!” 

“Oh! The singing salesman!” 

“Huh?” 

“Yeah. It’s so gay. Look.” 

Minghao pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening up TikTok. He has at least three videos of the man in his bookmarks, it seems. In each one, the guy is standing next to a car on the show floor with a big red bow on it while customers stand across from him. Minghao cranks up his volume, and Hansol’s breath is stolen. 

He has the voice of an angel. He’s singing to people he just sold cars to, which should be cringey and horrible, but he’s so beautiful, and he’s so good at singing— 

“I need to talk to him,” Hansol decides. 

Minghao makes a face. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Hansol downs the rest of his drink in one go. He shoves the empty glass into Minghao’s hands and goes, fixing himself on a path straight across the room. 

Halfway there, he hears Chan call for him, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s locked in on his target. A dose of anxiety settles low in his stomach as he draws closer, but it’s overshadowed by his want to know this beautiful man by name.  

Before he can announce himself, the man turns. He catches Hansol’s eye for a second. Does a double take. Hansol can see his cheeks color in real time. Can see his breath hitch in his throat. 

“Hi,” Hansol says, extending his hand. 

The man takes it, eyes wide and round, just as affected as Hansol, it seems. “Hi,” he returns. 

“I’m Hansol.” 

“Seungkwan.” 

Seungkwan. What a beautiful name.  

And, really, what's in a name? That which he calls a rose, Hansol figures, by any other name would smell as sweet. He thinks he heard that on, like, Degrassi or something. It really stuck. Pretty deep for a teen drama. 

“Wait, did you say Hansol?” Seokmin butts in. 

Hansol ignores him. His hand folds into Seungkwan’s. 

Seungkwan is soft, and warm. He’s beautiful from up close. Hansol’s mouth is simultaneously too dry and too wet. His heart beats loudly in his ears. 

“And who are you!?” Seokmin exclaims, lifting his hands. Hansol is too wrapped up in the stars in Seungkwan’s eyes to turn around, but he can see Soonyoung and Chan in his peripherals. 

“Uh…” Soonyoung says, lowering his voice almost comically. “You don’t know us.” 

“Oh! Okay. Nice to meet you,” Seokmin says cheerfully. “I’m Seokmin.” 

Hansol blinks. Seungkwan takes a step closer. They’re practically the same height, but he has to tip his face up a tiny bit to meet Hansol’s eyes. When he exhales, Hansol can feel it. They’re still holding hands. Hansol takes a chance, placing his other hand against Seungkwan’s cheek. 

“This is crazy, but…” he says at the same time Seungkwan says, “I know this is fast, but…” 

They both giggle. 

“You go first,” Hansol urges. 

Seungkwan’s blush deepens. “No, you.” 

“This is crazy, but…” 

Seungkwan closes the distance before Hansol can ask for the kiss he so desperately wants. His lips are soft. He tastes like schnapps. Smells like citrus. Hansol knows, immediately, that this is right. He’s meant to be with this man for the rest of his life. 

“Woah!” he hears someone say behind him. Chan, maybe. 

“Aw, that’s kind of sweet…” Seokmin. 

When they break apart, Seungkwan averts his eyes. Hansol urges him back. “I guess I don’t have to go to confession tomorrow.” 

Seungkwan’s nose crinkles. Cute. “Are you Catholic?” 

“Nah. I was just trying to say you cleansed me of sin.” Hansol smiles. He’s bubbling over with joy. “You’re that good.” 

The sound of Seungkwan’s laugher is sweeter than sugar. 

“Do you want to find somewhere quieter to talk?” Seungkwan asks. 

Hansol nods. God, does he. He wants to find somewhere they can spend forever. He’s ready to tie the knot. This is it. 

“Hey, wait a minute…” Seokmin finally manages to pull Hansol’s attention. He taps his chin, staring at Soonyoung and Chan. “Do I know you guys from somewhere? Do you go to my gym?” 

“Nope.” Chan shakes his head. 

“Definitely not,” Soonyoung confirms. 

“Ah. Must be crazy.” Seokmin waves his hand once. 

Over Seokmin’s shoulder, it seems Jihoon has finally gotten off his throne. His boyfriend and right hand woman follow behind him, the former wilting under the weight of his coat. 

“Can I please take it off, Jihoon? I’m so hot…” 

Jihoon grits his teeth. “Not until daddy says so,” he snips. 

“Uh…” Hansol laughs nervously. 

“What the fuck?” Soonyoung blurts, much too loudly. 

Every head in their vicinity snaps towards Soonyoung at once. A few people gasp. Honest to god, the music stops.

It’s like he’s broken a spell. Hansol’s eyes widen in horror as he watches recognition wash over Seokmin’s face. 

“Oh my god,” Seokmin shouts. “It’s the traitors! Take those disguises off, you foul beasts!” He reaches out and snatches the sunglasses off Soonyoung’s face and the hat off of Chan’s head. Then, he turns to Hansol, “And you! I knew I recognized your name!” 

“Sooyoung!” Jihoon orders. He shoots daggers at Hansol, Soonyoung, and Chan with his eyes. “Take care of them!” 

The willowy woman following him nods, moving into action. 

“Oh, shit, we gotta go,” Hansol says. He turns to Seungkwan, the look of devastation on Seungkwan’s pretty face breaking his heart. “Can I see you again?” 

“I—” 

Before Seungkwan can promise anything, Hansol is being dragged away by a strong hand on his wrist. Chan yanks him through the crowd, running towards the back exit. 

Hansol’s instincts kick in. He runs. He doesn’t stop running until they’re back on Seungcheol’s lot. Only then does he fall to his knees and look up to the moon in the sky. 

“Seungkwan,” he says, voice lilted with wonder. 

“And don’t come back!” someone screeches from across the street. 

“What a beautiful name.” 

**

Hansol usually dips off the sales floor around lunch time and hides in the bathroom. He locks the door behind him, plays music out of his phone speakers, and hits his vape until he’s ready to go back to work. It’s a time honored lunch tradition. If Chan is being chill, he gets to come sometimes too. 

Today, though, he wasn’t afforded the privilege. Hansol is having a super weird week. 

Jeonghan was at the bathroom sink when Hansol walked in, muttering to himself and scrubbing the same spot in his hand over and over. Hansol would have walked out if he didn’t already have a lungful of vape. Jeonghan never pees at work, so he’s usually safe to inhale as soon as he opens the door, but not today. 

“Out! Damned— No vaping in the bathroom!” Jeonghan screeched, and Hansol vacated the premises before he could get hit. 

Hansol slinked over to the service bay, hoping to find some solace there, but he was greeted by Junhui talking to himself. 

“Sup?” Hansol said. 

“I’m writing a play,” Junhui told him, all crazed in the eyes. “Do you want to help me perform it? I’d like to show Seungcheol.” 

“No thanks, man. I’m trying to hit my vape. I need some peace and quiet to daydream about this guy I met last night.” 

Junhui nodded like he understood. “You’re right, maybe we shouldn’t perform for Seungcheol after all. It would only make him suspicious…” 

Hansol left out the back. He started off into the woods behind the dealership, unsure of where he was trying to end up. 

At least there’s no one to bother him out here. Just some birds. 

He rips another hit of cotton candy juice, watching his exhale billow out above his head. He wonders if Seungkwan likes cotton candy. Real or vape. If he didn’t, Hansol would quit. No question about it. 

He realizes he probably should have been tracing his steps ten minutes too late. He takes a sharp left, a lazy bid at reentering civilization. When he sees gray brick peeking through the trees, he figures he’s managed to wrap around the other side of the dealership. That it’ll spit him out where he started. 

Instead, he steps out of the woods and onto Jihoon’s lot. He takes another rip of his vape, scratching his head. 

“Huh,” he says aloud. 

And then he hears it. The unmistakable sound of an angel’s song. 

He looks up, and there he is. Legs dangling off the dealership roof, staring up at the clouds. Seungkwan sings softly, like it’s something he does all the time. 

Hansol’s heart starts beating double time. He gasps, beside himself. 

Seungkwan’s song cuts off. He turns, wide-eyed, fingers white-knuckled at the edge of the roof. 

“It’s you,” Hansol says, taking a step closer, so he’s just below Seungkwan, only a good twenty-five feet separating them. 

“It’s you,” he replies, breaking into a smile. 

Hansol almost swoons. He shoves his vape into his pocket. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Not in a creepy way!” 

Seungkwan giggles. It’s the most beautiful noise Hansol has ever heard. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.” 

“I know it’s wrong…” Hansol exhales through his nose. “You’re a Lee, and I’m a Yoon-Choi…” 

“If it’s wrong, why does it feel so right?” Seungkwan asks, sounding just as desperate as Hansol feels. 

Hansol takes a deep breath. He coughs. His lungs are still a little tight from hitting his vape. “Look, Seungkwan—” He lifts up his hand, but Seungkwan can’t reach it because he’s twenty-five feet away. He reaches back, anyway. It almost feels like they’re holding hands. “Do you fuck with the Beatles?” 

Seungkwan nods. “I fuck with the Beatles.” 

“Would you— maybe— want to come over and listen to some records tonight?” Hansol asks. As soon as says it, he feels the bubble of nerves in his gut. It’s been so long since he invited anyone over to see his collection. His pride and joy. “I have more than just the Beatles, by the way. I’m really into Weezer. And, do you know Wilco? Their song about 9-11 is, like, really good, somehow—” 

Seungkwan giggles again, stopping Hansol in his tracks. “Yes, Hansol. I’d love to come over. But only if it’s a date.” 

“Oh, it’s a date.” Hansol nods so hard his head might fall off. 

In the distance, there’s the distinct sound of a door closing. Seungkwan gasps, looking around. He leans down over his lap, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You should leave before Seokmin comes— he takes a second to climb the ladder, but he’ll be here soon—” 

Hansol pats his pockets, looking for his phone. “Wait— one more thing— Do you have a helmet?” 

“A helmet?” Seungkwan wrinkles his nose. 

“I drive a moped.” 

“Oh. Hot. Yeah, I have a helmet.” 

Hansol’s chest swells with pride. “Perfect. Put in your number.” He finds his phone sitting underneath his pen in his pocket. The first time he throws it to Seungkwan it doesn’t make it, dropping lamely into the grass. Hansol huffs, picking it up and tossing it again. This time, Seungkwan catches it. 

“What’s your password?” 

“Oh-six-one-three-seven-zero.” 

“Aw, cute.” Seungkwan types it in and starts clicking around. “Is that your mom’s birthday?” 

“No. Rivers Cuomo’s.” 

Seungkwan does a poor job swallowing his laugh, but Hansol doesn’t mind. 

“Seungkwannie! I’m ready to sing!” Seokmin’s loud voice booms in the distance. 

Seungkwan squeaks. He finishes up and drops Hansol’s phone back into his hands. “Make haste, Hansollie—” 

Hansol turns to go, but he stops before he runs. “Hey, why are you on the roof, anyway?” He’s just so curious about Seungkwan. He wants to know everything. 

“Acoustics are better up here,” Seungkwan says. “Perfect for lunchtime harmonies.” 

Seungkwan turns over his shoulder, panic flashing over his face. He shoos Hansol away, and Hansol runs. Back into the woods, twigs snapping under his feet. 

He swears he can hear the dulcet tones of Seungkwan’s voice as he traverses the wilds to get back to his dealership. He takes one more hit off his vape, stepping out of the forest on the other side a new man. 

Wonwoo is lingering outside the back door when Hansol walks up. He’s crouched down, head in his hands, a cigarette burning between his fingers. When he looks up at Hansol and notices his cheerful disposition, he frowns. 

“What are you so happy for?” 

“No reason.” Hansol puts his hands on his hips, grinning wider than before. Wonwoo glares at him like he’s personally offended. “What are you so grumpy for?” Hansol retorts. 

Wonwoo sighs dramatically. He pushes himself up onto his feet. He looks about half a second away from stomping his foot like an angry toddler. “Joshua has me on a wild goose chase. He says I’m not allowed to propose until I finish some stupid, impossible tasks.” 

That sounds like Joshua. He likes puzzles. He’s a pro at sudoku. 

“Damn. What sort of tasks?” 

“He wants me to get his family heirloom ring… which is impossible, because he won’t give me his mother’s contact information.” Wonwoo takes a short drag of his cigarette, exhaling through his teeth. “Do you know how hard it is to find a woman named Jamie Hong online? It’s a unisex name!” 

Hansol laughs. “Is that it?” 

“No. He also said I have to give him a baby. Whatever the fuck that means—” 

“Oh, he wants a dog.” 

Wonwoo squints. “What?” 

“Yeah. He’s been talking about it for ages.” Hansol nods. “You know how he squeals whenever we see a dog with bows in its hair.” 

“Oh my god…” Wonwoo smacks himself in the head. “Do I even deserve to be engaged to him if I couldn’t figure that out?” 

“Honestly, Wonwoo?” Hansol claps a hand over his shoulder. “Not my problem.” 

There’s a pep in Hansol’s step as he walks away. He has a date tonight. 

***

There’s nothing— seriously, nothing— that could get Hansol down right now. 

He’s on top of the world. He’s flying. He’s no longer a virgin. 

Okay, that last one is a technicality. He’s been a non-virgin since he was seventeen, but after last night, it feels appropriate to reiterate. The way Seungkwan tore Hansol apart while Hansol’s copy of The Stranger was spinning on the turntable. Phew. Hansol is born again. 

He parks his moped in his usual spot, airpods in, Island in the Sun blaring into his head. He whistles along to the song, pushing through the glass doors of the dealership. 

“Dad is looking for you,” Soonyoung says, feet kicked up on his desk as Chan braids a lock of his hair. 

Hansol stops whistling, pulling out an airpod. “Huh?” 

“Hansol Chwe!” Jeonghan screeches from the other side of the room. 

“Aw, fuck.” 

Hansol drops his bag at his desk before trudging over to the management office. Jeonghan is fuming in the doorway. He’s been looking incredibly deranged lately. Hair all sorts of bird-nesty, like he’s been repeatedly fidgeting with it.

“Sup?” Hansol asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Jeonghan’s bony fingers curl around the back of Hansol’s neck tight enough to bruise, directing Hansol into Seungcheol’s office and shutting the door behind them. All the light is swallowed, only the soft glow of Seungcheol’s computer monitor providing a reprieve. 

Hansol shrugs to try to get Jeonghan to loosen up, but he just grips tighter. Manhandles Hansol to look at the screen. 

It takes a second to recognize what’s happening.

Seungcheol has security camera footage from last night pulled up. He’s running his mouse back and forth over the same minute and a half, watching a tiny Seungkwan walk up to a tiny Hansol. They laugh. They get on Hansol’s moped and drive out of frame. Seungcheol runs the footage back. 

“This is bad,” Seungcheol says, tapping his finger on the screen just as Tiny Hansol and Tiny Seungkwan laugh. He turns around and Hansol sees the dark, sunken circles under his eyes for the first time. 

“Woah. You don’t look too good, man.” 

“He’s fine,” Jeonghan snaps. 

“I’m fine. I just got named the King of Cars by Rev Yer Engine Magazine.” 

“Oh, really?” Hansol brightens. “Congrats, dude, that’s huge.” 

Jeonghan tightens his grip again. Hansol groans in pain. 

“It would be huge if my own employees weren’t out to ruin my life,” Seungcheol hisses. Without looking at the screen, he runs the tape back again. Tiny Hansol and Tiny Seungkwan entering frame once more. 

Hansol puffs out his chest, crossing his arms. “I’m not doing anything wrong. Seungkwan is great. I think I’m in love.” 

“You’re not in love!” Jeonghan spits. 

“I am! You don’t know anything about me!” Hansol finally manages to get Jeonghan to unhand him. He steps out of his reach. “Besides, what would you know about love, Mr. Divorce?”

“Why I oughta…” Seungcheol grunts, getting up to make a grab at Hansol. Hansol is too quick. He steps out of the way. Jeonghan shoves Seungcheol back into his seat, finger raised in his face. Seungcheol goes back to glaring. He brings his thumb to his neck to mimic slitting Hansol’s throat. 

“You’d understand me if you heard him sing,” Hansol says. He realizes his mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth, but it’s too late. He’s just so proud of Seungkwan’s talent he can’t help himself. 

“Heard him sing?” Seungcheol echoes. 

Jeonghan gasps, scrambling for his phone. He clicks around a few times, and then Seungkwan’s heavenly voice is flooding the room. 

Seungcheol’s mouth drops open. Hansol prepares to bolt. The office door opens. 

“Uh, guys?” Joshua says. “Someone’s here for Hansol.” 

Hansol doesn’t hang around. He gives Seungcheol and Jeonghan a two-fingered salute and books it. 

“Dude, thanks for saving me, they were about to kill me—” 

Joshua looks at Hansol funny. “Oh, I didn’t do that on purpose. There really is someone here for you. He’s waiting in the service bay.” 

“The service bay?” 

+

“Hansol Chwe, I have come for your blood!” 

Seokmin stands tall and proud, Jihoon Lee’s right-hand woman and left-hand boyfriend hovering over either of his shoulders. The boyfriend looks much more nervous than the woman. She looks ready to kill. 

“I’m sorry, what is happening?” Hansol asks, glancing around. 

“Mingyu, unroll the mat.” Seokmin snaps at the guy. He hurries into action, positioning himself behind a long, blue thing on the ground and kicking it so it unrolls across the oil-stained floor of the garage. 

It’s a… wrestling mat? 

“There is no other way to say this…” Seokmin turns his head, exhaling dramatically. Then, he snaps forward again, violence in his eyes and finger thrust at Hansol. “You are a villain!” 

Hansol rolls his eyes. “I am not a villain. Grow up.” 

“Yeah! He’s not a villain!” Chan shouts. He steps up to Hansol’s shoulder, Soonyoung fitting in at the other side, lowering his voice, “So, like, what’s going on? We showed up late—” 

“I think this idiot is challenging me to a duel, or something,” Hansol says loudly enough for Seokmin to hear. “I have no idea why.” 

Seokmin clutches his chest. When he falls backwards, the woman, Sooyoung, Hansol remembers from the party, catches him under the arms and pushes him back onto his feet. “First you defile poor, sweet Seungkwan, and then you insult my bid for his honor like this?” 

“Defile?” Hansol laughs. “I’d hardly call it that. I love him, which is clearly something you can’t say. Anyone who loves him would know he’s a peaceful man.” 

“Peaceful men must be protected,” Seokmin growls, narrowing his eyes. 

“I’m not wrestling you,” Hansol snorts.  

“But I will!” Soonyoung announces, taking a step forward. 

“Dude— what?” Hansol grabs his shoulder. 

“No, Hansol, I got this, I promise, I wrestled in high school,” Soonyoung insists. He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Woah—” Hansol puts a hand up to cover his eyes. When he turns, Seokmin is undressing too, shirt flung over Mingyu’s head. “Oh my god, what is happening?” 

Soonyoung takes Hansol by the face, smacking his cheeks. “I’ve got it, bro. Don’t worry.” 

“I— wasn’t worried?” 

Soonyoung smacks him once more before stepping up to the mat. 

Hansol looks around to see if anyone else is watching this. Joshua hung back earlier, and Wonwoo hasn’t been seen all day (his calendar said something about travelling to Italy?). Junhui is in the bathroom talking to himself again, so he’s missing, too— 

“What the hell,” Hansol mutters. 

“You’ve got this, baby!” Chan cheers. 

Soonyoung pounds a fist against his chest. Seokmin mirrors him. 

They both look stupid in just their work slacks, loafers and shirts shucked. Sooyoung steps forward, raising her hand in the air. “First one to cede or get knocked out loses.” 

“Knocked out?” Hansol laughs. “Are we really taking this that far?”

“We’ll take it as far as we need to,” Seokmin growls. 

Sooyoung swings down her hand, and it begins. 

There’s a lot of yelling. Hansol is yelling, he thinks, but he’s too focused on the fight to register what he’s saying. Soonyoung and Seokmin grab and twist and toss each other around. There’s a second where it looks like Soonyoung will be victorious, but then Seokmin grabs his leg and sends him crashing to the floor. 

A gasp rolls across the audience. 

“Uncle!” Soonyoung cries, getting choked out by Seokmin’s measly bicep. 

When Seokmin releases him, he flops against the mat like a dead fish, tongue lolling out and eyes rolled so far back into his head that only the whites are visible. Chan wails, falling to his knees at Soonyoung’s side, shaking him by the shoulders. 

“Why!” he screams. “Why!”  

Hansol feels a surge of fury bubbling up in his chest. 

How dare Seokmin come here and fell Hansol’s brothers. How dare he think he owns Seungkwan. 

“This is unacceptable,” Hansol grits. He steps forward. Straight up to where Seokmin is celebrating with Mingyu, hands above his head. 

Hansol pushes him. 

Seokmin stumbles off the mat, turning around with wide eyes. “Woah!” 

“Illegal!” Sooyoung shrieks. “You can’t do that! No touching off the mat! This is foul play, even for a Yoon-Choi!”  

“I’ll do what I please on my territory.” Hansol shoves him again, straight into a stack of tires. Seokmin bounces off of them and falls into Mingyu’s arms like a ragdoll. 

“Seokmin!” Mingyu sobs. He tries to wake Seokmin up, but he’s too good at playing dead. There’s nothing to be done but haul Seokmin over his shoulder and flee, Sooyoung stalking behind them with her jaw set. She turns just before she walks out the garage door. 

“Away, Sooyoung!” Hansol says. 

She turns on her heel and goes. 

From the floor, Soonyoung groans. 

“He’s alive!” Chan falls into his arms. 

Soonyoung reaches up towards Hansol, eyes half closed. “You’re done for, Hansol. Jeonghan has a strict policy on wrestling courtesy. You touched Seokmin off the mat. He won’t take kindly to this.” 

Hansol scoffs. “How would he know?”

Soonyoung’s lifted hand shakes. He closes all of his fingers but one, pointing to the corner of the ceiling. Hansol turns around slowly, the hair on the back of his neck raising. 

There, in the corner, is a security camera, red light blinking next to the lens. 

“Aw, fuck.” 

+

“My poor Hansollie…” 

Hansol moans in pain, curled on his side with his head in Seungkwan’s lap. He’s hamming it up a bit, because he likes being taken care of, but he really is emotionally scarred from today. He still can’t come to terms with what happened. How Jeonghan suspended him from work for two weeks for getting into a fight in the garage. 

“It’s ridiculous,” Hansol whines. “Nothing in life is fair.” 

Seungkwan clicks his tongue, running his hand through Hansol’s hair to push it away from his face. “I know, baby. And it’s all my fault.” 

Hansol’s eyes snap open. He looks up at Seungkwan seriously. “Don’t say that. Nothing is your fault. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I tried to explain that to Jeonghan and Seungcheol, but they wouldn’t listen.” 

“Hmph.” Seungkwan pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. 

He looks so cute that Hansol has no choice but to lift himself up and plant a kiss to the center of his mouth. Seungkwan follows him down again, too, kissing him one more time. 

“It was worth it,” Hansol murmurs, fingertips lingering against Seungkwan’s cheek. “For you, it was worth it.” 

Seungkwan’s cheeks blush a pretty pink color. “You’re worth it too.” 

Hansol smiles, joy blooming in his chest. Then, he pauses. “Wait, did you get in trouble too?” 

“Well…” Seungkwan shifts nervously. He won’t meet Hansol’s eye. “Yes, but I didn’t want to upset you while you’re in such a state…” 

All joy is promptly put on hold. Hansol takes Seungkwan’s wrist in his hand, sitting up to face Seungkwan head on. “Tell me, Boo. I can take it.” 

“But, Hansol… Your honor…” 

“What of my honor?” 

Seungkwan huffs. He looks away. “Jihoon— he—” Seungkwan makes a noise of distress. It makes Hansol’s heart break in two. “He said that in order to make up the sales I lost with my heart’s distraction, I’ll have to— oh, god, I can’t say it—” 

Hansol’s heart beats so loudly his head throbs. His hands tighten at Seungkwan’s wrists. “Just tell me. It’s better in the open than in hiding.” 

“G—” Seungkwan gags. “He wants Seokmin and I to go—” 

“What is it, Seungkwan?!” Hansol shakes him. 

“Gay for pay!” 

“No!” Hansol’s body stiffens. He drops Seungkwan’s arms, weight shifting so he slides off the couch and onto the floor, catching himself on his knees. He clutches his chest. Suddenly, he feels more unwell than he did before. He feels downright nauseous. 

“Just to sell cars!” Seungkwan wails. “He said women are really into that sort of thing!” 

“Of course they are!” Hansol gasps for air. “How do you think Soonyoung and Chan have managed to beat the regional sales record for the Volkswagen Jetta!?” 

“I’m so sorry, Hansollie—” Seungkwan slides onto the floor with him, gathering Hansol into his arms. Hansol feels the briefest comfort in Seungkwan’s warmth. “What are we going to do?”

****

Seungkwan has been working for Jihoon Lee for most of his career. 

Jihoon taught him everything he knows. How to sell a car. How to draw customers in, and how to tailor his sales techniques to each person. He’s the one who encouraged Seungkwan to sing at work. He said he had a good feeling about it. That Seungkwan was destined to be famous. 

He’s known Jihoon longer than anyone else at the dealership. Longer than Seokmin, certainly, who just came on when Jeonghan moved across the street. Longer than Mingyu and Sooyoung, who seem to be Jihoon’s inner circle nowadays. 

That’s why this is going to hurt. It’ll feel like shoving a knife into his own gut and twisting it. 

Seungkwan takes a deep breath, steeling himself before walking through the large glass doors at the front of the dealership. 

He dressed down today, refusing to wear the Lee family’s signature royal purple. Today doesn’t call for purple. Seungkwan is putting this thing to bed for good. 

Seokmin sits at his desk, hand polishing his prized BB gun. He scrambles up when Seungkwan walks in. “Hey, Seungkwan! Wait— why aren’t you in uniform? You know the boss doesn’t like it when—” 

“Quiet, Seokmin,” Seungkwan barks. 

It does the job. Seokmin shrinks, falling silent where he stands. 

Seungkwan doesn’t stop until he’s outside of Jihoon’s office door. 

Per usual, Sooyoung sits at her desk guarding the door. She’s always filing her nails and chewing gum, pretending that she’s more innocent than she actually is. 

She glances up at Seungkwan. Does a double take. “Why aren’t you dressed for work?” she asks, snapping her gum. “You know that’s going to be a dress code infraction. I’m going to have to write you up.” 

“I need to speak to Jihoon.” 

Sooyoung drops her nail file. “Eh… Not gonna happen.” 

“Let me through, Sooyoung,” Seungkwan demands. “I need to see him.” 

“You don’t have an appointment.” 

“Of course I don’t, he’s my boss!” 

“Then…” She shrugs, flicking her hair over her shoulder. 

Seungkwan chews his bottom lip, eyeing the door. 

“Don’t you dare,” Sooyoung says lowly. 

He makes a break for it before she can stand up. Miraculously, the doors to Jihoon’s office are unlocked— Seungkwan was prepared to bang and yell. 

Seungkwan bursts in, Sooyoung hot on his heels, running straight up to Jihoon’s desk and smacking down the letter he’s been holding in his sweaty hand. “This is my official resignation. Effective immediately!” 

Mingyu, who had been sleeping on the chaise in the corner wrapped in a blanket made of some expensive type of fur, jerks to life, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “Wha-huh?” 

Jihoon looks at the letter. His silk shirt is unbuttoned to his sternum, both hands laden with heavy rings. 

“You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married, and hand me this… Seungkwan-ah… how could you? You’re my brother…” 

“I’m—” Seungkwan stops. “Wait, what? Your daughter?” 

Jihoon shakes his head. That gets him to snap out of it. He gives Seungkwan an apologetic smile. “Sorry. You know I’ve been method acting for those new ads we’re going to shoot…” 

Seungkwan does know. Mingyu cooked up a whole Godfather concept for the dealership’s locally run TV commercials. It’s going to be great. Jihoon is really dedicated. 

“What’s going on? Let’s talk this out,” Jihoon pleads. 

“No! There’s nothing to talk about! I’m in love! And I refuse to hide it for some— some—” Seungkwan stammers, and Jihoon lifts a brow. “Some blood feud!” Seungkwan finishes, rage bubbling over. 

Jihoon picks up a mysterious bottle off his desk, taking a sip. He makes a face. “Woah, this tastes weird. Try this, does this taste like an Arnold Palmer to you?”

Seungkwan puts a pause on his tirade and steps forward and gives it a sniff. He swallows one mouthful. It’s much too bitter to be Arnold Palmer. “No. Where did you get that?” He lifts the bottle up to the light, looking for any label. 

“Jeonghan dropped it off as a peace offering. I figured it was too good to be true.” Jihoon shrugs. He tosses the bottle into the trash. 

“Okay, so, as I was saying…” Seungkwan arranges his expression back into one of ire. “I quit!” 

Jihoon suddenly goes very still. He makes a gurgling noise in the back of this throat. Then, his hands come up to claw at his neck and his body starts convulsing. 

“Jihoonie?” Mingyu cries. He hurries across the room. Jihoon’s eyes roll back. Mingyu gasps, horrified. “Jihoonie?!” 

Then it all stops. Jihoon sits up straight in his chair. “Sorry, something was stuck in my throat.” 

He lifts his hand for Mingyu to take. Mingyu crumples to his side, kissing each ring. 

Jihoon sighs. Runs a hand through his hair. “What can we do to get you to stay, Seungkwan? Is it the stunt with Seokmin? We can pull it. Forget about it.” 

Seungkwan shakes his head. “I’m sorry, the damage is already done.” 

He bows, bending at the waist. When he straightens up, he swears he can see tears in Jihoon’s eyes. 

“Farewell— God knows when we shall meet again,” Seungkwan murmurs. 

He takes his leave. 

*****

Hansol has been working for Seungcheol for most of his career. 

Seungcheol taught him everything he knows. How to sell a moped. How to draw college kids in, and how to tailor his sales techniques to each person. 

The dealership is like a family. Soonyoung and Chan are like his weird cousins that are a little too close in a kinda incest-y way, Wonwoo and Joshua are like the rich aunt and uncle Hansol loves, and Seungcheol is, like, basically Hansol’s dad.  

That’s why this is going to hurt. It’ll feel like shoving a knife into his own gut and twisting it. 

Hansol takes a deep breath, steeling himself before walking through the large glass doors at the front of the dealership. 

As soon as he’s inside, Wonwoo and Joshua’s brand new dog is running circles around his feet. It’s a little yappy thing with bows in its hair. 

“Sorry,” Joshua says, but he doesn’t sound it. 

He’s sitting in Wonwoo’s lap with a giant fucking rock on his finger. Apparently Wonwoo had to traverse the Italian countryside to get it. It’s a family heirloom. Hansol didn’t even know Joshua was Italian. He might be related to Jihoon, now that Hansol thinks about it. 

Hansol picks up the dog, ignoring her wild wiggling, and drops her on Wonwoo’s desk. 

“Were those old ladies in the parking lot when you came in?” Wonwoo asks. 

“No. Why?” 

“Apparently they told Seungcheol he needs to make up with Jihoon or he’ll die.” Wonwoo snorts. “Brutal.” 

Hansol blinks, shaking his head. “Okay, stop distracting me. I’m here for a reason.” 

“Hey, Hansol, does this Arnold Palmer taste weird to you?” Junhui trots up with an unlabeled bottle in hand. 

“Where’d you get it?” Hansol leans forward, giving it a sniff. He takes a sip. It tastes too bitter to be Arnold Palmer. “Ew. The fuck?” 

“Found it on Jeonghan’s desk,” Junhui says. “Thought I better make sure he’s not poisoning everyone. Hah!” 

“I dunno, man. I’m kinda busy, though.” He hands Junhui back his putrid potion and shoulders his way by. 

He and Seungkwan didn’t have a chance to meet up last night, but Hansol received a message just past midnight in the form of a LinkedIn email alert. Boo Seungkwan, open to work. 

Seungkwan threw himself to the blade for Hansol’s honor. He quit his job so that Hansol wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout of whatever gay for pay nonsense Jihoon had planned. Hansol almost fell to his knees at the romance of it. 

He knew immediately what he had to do. 

“I quit!” he declares, bursting into Seungcheol’s office. 

Seungcheol is in his chair, Jeonghan in his lap. They’ve clearly been making out, if their stunned expressions are anything to go by. 

“What?” Seungcheol asks dumbly. 

“You heard me. It’s over. I won’t stand working for a man who doesn’t respect my love.” 

Jeonghan lifts his hand off of Seungcheol’s chest. He tried to dye his hair red the other day, and his fingers are still stained a dark, bloody color. “What are you talking about, Hansol? You’re not even meant to be here right now. You’re still on probation.” 

“Did you say you quit?” Seungcheol asks, more confused than anything. 

“I quit!” Hansol repeats one final time. 

He doesn’t stick around. He turns on his heel, stomping straight back where he came from. On his way out, he takes a long hit off his vape and lets it out in the middle of the atrium, just like he’s always wanted to do during business hours.  

“Don’t vape around our baby!” Joshua gasps. 

Hansol ignores him. He takes another hit as he pushes back outside. 

The sun is bright, warming his face. His lungs hurt a little, but that’s just the vaping. Once he lets it out, he feels free. Arms spread wide, a laugh falling from his lips. 

He begins walking towards where he parked his moped at the edge of the lot, but just as he approaches, he notices a figure in the distance. 

He puts one hand over his eyes to shade them from the sun. Squints. The man gets closer. And closer. Until Hansol can make out Seungkwan’s face. 

“Boo!” he calls, waving his arm above his head. “You look like Jesus, or something!” 

Seungkwan breaks into a dazzling smile. He kicks off the ground, running to meet Hansol in the middle. They embrace, refusing to let each other go when they pull apart. 

“I quit,” Hansol says. He’s almost giddy. He’s never done anything so emotionally rash. “In solidarity with you. Because I stand in solidarity with you. I needed you to know. I’m locked in. In solidarity.” 

“You—” Seungkwan’s face screws up. He laughs. “Quit? Really?” 

Hansol nods. “It didn’t feel right working for the man who tried to keep me away from you—” 

“God, Hansollie, that’s so romantic—” Seungkwan takes Hansol’s face in his hands. He runs his thumbs over his cheeks. “But…” 

“But?” 

Seungkwan’s bottom lip pops out. “I, uh, actually got a job. Here. With Seungcheol and Jeonghan.” 

“You…” Hansol blinks. Blinks again. “Oh. Really?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Well, shit.” Hansol feels himself wilt. If Seungkwan weren’t holding onto him, he might crumple to the ground. “I may as well, like, drink a deadly poison or something. What the fuck. I just fucked up my life…” 

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. “Don’t say that! Where would you even buy such a thing?” 

Hansol shrugs. “The apothecary, I guess. I think those still exist.” 

“Okay, well, we could do that, or, we could go inside and ask Seungcheol to give you your job back,” Seungkwan suggests. 

“Right.” Hansol nods. Seungkwan is so smart. Thank god he’s here. “That sounds good.” 

Seungkwan smiles, linking their hands together. 

They walk back into the dealership like that, a united front. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan have emerged from the office by now— they’re standing by the show car, talking to three old ladies. Probably the same ones Wonwoo keeps mentioning. 

When Seungcheol notices them, he breaks away, leaving the sale to Jeonghan. 

“Hey,” he says. “Good to see you, Seungkwan. Hansol, I thought you quit.” He checks his watch. “Like, ten minutes ago.” 

“Oh, well.” Hansol laughs. “I was joking. It was a prank.” 

Seungcheol raises a brow. “It didn’t seem like a prank.” 

“Well, it was.” 

“Okay…” Seungcheol doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t fight back. “You are like family. And I don’t have any other salesmen that know about white people music like you do...” 

“For the last time, Weezer is all people music—” 

“Thanks for having us, Seungcheol!” Seungkwan cuts in. “We’re happy to be here.” 

Wonwoo and Joshua’s dog barks in agreement. 

******

“That’s it?” Hansol scoffs. He shuts the book, dropping it on his desk. 

Seungkwan nods, tying his tie in the faint reflection provided by the big glass window behind his desk. “That’s it.” 

“Kind of a shitty ending.” Hansol scoffs. “Everyone died. It was pretty anti-climactic, honestly.”  

“Yeah. That’s how a lot of Shakespeare stuff is.” 

“Fuck. How depressing.” 

When Seungkwan finishes up what he’s doing, he wanders over to Hansol’s desk. He looks pretty. He’s had more color in his face since he started working here. Royal purple really washes him out. 

Hansol scoots back so Seungkwan can plop down into his lap. He gives him a kiss once he lands. Seungkwan hums happily, smiling into Hansol’s mouth. 

“Yah!” Seungcheol barks. 

Hansol and Seungkwan break apart. Seungcheol is standing across the dealership affixing a giant red bow to the hood of the show car. 

“Seungkwan, get over here,” he says, waving. “We need to film a TikTok.” 

“Usually I only sing when a car is sold,” Seungkwan points out. 

“Yeah. And Junhui is a professional actor. He’s your customer.” Seungcheol snaps, pointing at the ground to direct Seungkwan to come. “Get over here.” 

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, giving Hansol one more peck before he’s back on his feet. 

Hansol shoves his airpod back in, kicking his feet up on his desk and crossing them at the ankle. He hits play on El Scorco where he paused it earlier and closes his copy of whatever fuck ass Shakespeare play he was reading to toss it back to Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo is getting into plays lately— because he’s lame and gay— he keeps giving Hansol new ones to read. 

Joshua’s yappy little dog grabs the book and starts gnawing on the corner of it. Joshua seems unbothered, Soonyoung and Chan on either side of him as they watch him play Minesweeper on his computer. Wonwoo is the one to pull the book out of the dog’s mouth. 

He looks at Hansol, glasses sliding down his nose. “Did you like it?”

“Didn’t learn anything,” Hansol says. 

Wonwoo scowls. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not.” Hansol throws up his hands. “It’s just not realistic. Not all love has to end in loss.” 

“Sure, but doesn’t it make it more interesting if it does?” 

Across the dealership, Seungkwan begins to sing. His voice lifts, echoing off the tall ceilings. Hansol pauses El Scorcho again. Fuck El Scorcho. He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. 

“Nah, man,” he murmurs to Wonwoo. “This fuckin’ rules.”