Chapter Text
People always throw around the phrase, "Life isn’t fair."
To Keonho, the world's unfairness was an absolute truth, carved so deeply into reality that he found it pointless to even hope for something better. There was no such thing as fairness. If there was, why was he struggling this much? Why did he have to sweat, bleed, and burn himself out just to catch a glimpse of the good things others received so easily?
Life is unfair. That was it. There was no silver lining to attach to that phrase.
"Mama, you gotta eat," Keonho said, raising his voice so his grandmother could hear him over her fading youth and failing ears.
"Keonho, dear. Let me take over, you might be late for class," his mother insisted, setting the plates down on the breakfast table. "Have your noona drop you off."
"No need, Mom. I can just walk," Keonho replied. He didn't want to disrupt his older sister’s busy routine, she already had too much on her plate, and the last thing he wanted was to become another burden. "Besides, my class isn't until ten today. Go get some rest, Mom. I’ve got Grandma."
Life had never been kind to Keonho, and accepting that reality was the hardest pill he ever had to swallow.
As the only man in the household, he felt an unspoken pressure to step up—to become a pillar his family could lean on. He wanted to stop being a financial drain as soon as possible. He couldn't stand seeing them suffer. If the world had to crush someone, Keonho preferred it to be him, as long as it spared his family from the weight.
"Are you sure you don't want to get a dorm, Keonho? You commute for over an hour every day, and you still have to walk to the station," his mother asked, gently wiping his grandmother's face.
"Dorming is too expensive. I'm completely fine with this."
"But it wastes so much of your time, sweetheart. You could be doing so much more instead of sitting in traffic," she urged. "And you won't even let your sister use the motorcycle for you."
"Gas is expensive, too. I promise, I'm okay."
And he really was. He had to be.
"Alright, if you say so. Finish up here so you can take a shower. I’ll pack your lunch in the meantime." His mother smiled, fondly pinching his cheeks.
Keonho offered a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to his grandmother. He reached out, placing his palm over her frail hand. "Mama, please eat."
His grandmother’s responses to the world were growing slower by the day. Keonho would be lying if he said it didn't scare him—in fact, it was his greatest anxiety. From childhood up to this very moment, his grandmother had been his safe place.
Seeing her fade like this made him feel utterly powerless, and he hated himself for it.
Her deteriorating health was the exact reason he chose to study medicine. The motive was simple, transparent, and close to his heart.
Slowly, his grandmother turned her gaze toward him and smiled. It was a toothless smile; they hadn't been able to afford a new set of dentures yet. Because of this, she could only manage soft meals, and on her bad days, Keonho would puree her food just to make it easier to swallow.
He lifted the spoon she had refused earlier, coaxing her gently. "Here, Mama. Try a little bit, okay?"
Inside, Keonho silently prayed, begging whatever forces existed to let her take a bite.
When she slowly opened her mouth, a genuine, relieved smile finally broke across Keonho’s face.
✎ ̼
"Tough sched today, huh?" Martin asked out of nowhere. He was stationed at the counter with him, likely growing bored of the simple silence.
"Nothing new," Keonho replied, restocking the ready-made meals in the display fridge. "The world's just a harsh place right now."
"Did you see the recent news about that senator? Eom, I think?" Martin raised an eyebrow.
This was how their conversations usually went whenever their shifts overlapped, and Keonho didn't mind it. At least some people were still awake to the realities of the world.
"The one who got exposed for embezzling funds?"
"Yeah, that one!" Martin pointed a finger at him. "They said he still hasn't been caught."
"He has a lot of people protecting him, from what I know," Keonho replied, biting the inside of his lip. He finished stocking the fridge and began sorting out the expired items to throw away. "Besides, the whistleblower was anonymous, so they're claiming the leak isn't credible."
Martin paused, resting his chin on top of the mop handle as he held it with both hands. "I just don't get it. The whistleblower had enough evidence, but it's still not enough to throw him in jail?"
Keonho stared down at his worn-out shoes, his mind drifting.
When it's an ordinary citizen, they get arrested immediately. But when it's these corrupt politicians, they get endless consideration?
"There's no justice," Keonho said bluntly.
The chime above the door dinged, signaling that someone had just entered. Keonho sighed and walked back to the register. Martin followed suit, resuming his mopping while whistling a tune only he recognized.
It was probably around 10 PM. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few cars passing by the main road. The convenience store where he worked was tucked away at the very end of a dark alley, so customers were usually rare.
But right now, a group of about six people walked in, bringing a wave of loud energy with them.
Seriously? It's 10 PM and they still have this much energy? Keonho thought to himself.
He noticed each of them carrying a shopping basket, likely picking up their own separate things. He didn't really care what they did, as long as they paid and left quickly so he could finish his shift.
Martin returned the mop to the storage room and took his place right next to Keonho behind the counter, silently watching the group.
"They're buying a lot, aren't they?" Martin murmured. "They might as well buy the whole store."
"Isn't it great? Boss will surely be happy," Keonho said lazily, his eyes drifting down to his own hands. "His store is finally earning some profit."
"He'll just end up using it for gambling anyway. I'd rather see this place fail."
"Yeah, right. Then we both go home broke."
"Touché, man," Martin laughed. He straightened up from his slouch the moment one of the guys approached his register to check out.
Keonho watched the exchange from his peripheral vision. Martin definitely had better customer service than he did. Being able to smile like that at strangers every single day must be exhausting. He truly applauded Martin for it.
When Keonho looked up at his own register, he was met with a guy who seemed to possess limitless energy, wearing a bright, ear-to-ear smile.
Keonho let out an audible sigh and began scanning the items. The barcode scanner kept beeping continuously as the items piled up. By the time Keonho reached the fourth basket, he couldn't help himself.
"What's all this for?" he blurted out mindlessly. Buying this much food so late in the night made absolutely no sense. Oh, and there was alcohol, too.
"A party," the customer replied, hearing him clearly despite Keonho’s muttered tone.
Keonho didn't offer a response and simply kept scanning. Once he finished the fifth basket, he extended his palm and spoke flatly, "ID, please."
The stranger nodded and immediately searched his wallet, which was tucked inside a sling bag. He rummaged through dozens of cards, quickly found his ID, and handed it over.
Keonho lifted it to get a clear look.
Eom? Where have I heard that name recently?
Then it clicked. Eom Il-hwan. The senator who had just been exposed for stealing public funds meant for housing and street programs.
As the headline flashed through Keonho's mind, his brows furrowed deep. One major flaw about him was that his mouth always moved faster than his brain could process.
"What is the son of a corrupt politician doing here? I thought you guys all left in a helicopter?"
Beside him, Martin’s abrupt laugh echoed loudly through the store, instantly catching the attention of the customer's friends who were waiting by the counter.
The stranger—or rather, Eom Seonghyeon—stood frozen. He looked stressed, but Keonho didn't have a shred of sympathy to spare.
He’s spending the taxpayers' money right now. Why should I feel sorry for him?
Martin's laughter gradually died down as a suffocating silence stretched between them. Clearly, Eom Seonghyeon didn't have a comeback or a retort. His complete silence made that obvious. Sensing the tension, Martin quickly nudged Keonho aside after finishing with his own customer. He took the ID out of Keonho's hand and stepped in front of his register.
"Sorry about that. He must have mistaken you for someone else. Please forgive him," Martin apologized smoothly.
Very professional, Keonho thought bitterly, stepping back.
"No, no. It's fine," Seonghyeon urged, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. From the looks of it, being recognized had completely thrown him off his game. "Your employee is just... rather blunt."
"He had way too much coffee earlier, that's why he's acting up," Martin joked, trying to defuse the tension. In reality, Keonho hadn't touched a single drop of caffeine all day.
Martin smoothly picked up where Keonho had left off. "Cash or card?"
"Card, please."
Martin nodded and gestured toward the wireless terminal beside the receipt printer, prompting Seonghyeon to pay.
From behind them, one of Seonghyeon’s friends called out impatiently, "Is that going to take much longer?"
Seonghyeon looked back, his brow furrowing deep. It was a stark, quiet contrast to the bright smile he had given Keonho just moments ago. "Just a second, it's almost done."
When the card terminal beeped to signal a successful transaction, Martin began packing the mountain of goods into brown paper bags. Because of the sheer volume, Keonho begrudgingly stepped in to help him bag.
They each carried a basket, but he's the only one paying? What is this, some K-drama bullying trope? Keonho muttered to himself. Then again, it was Seonghyeon's own fault for flaunting his wealth like that.
If it even was his own wealth to begin with.
Once everything was finally packed, only one of his friends walked over to help carry the heavy paper bags, the other four simply stood by and watched. One of them casually threw a heavy arm around Seonghyeon’s shoulders, nearly throwing the guy off balance.
The moment the glass doors shut behind the group, Martin finally let out a long sigh.
"Why on earth did you say that?" he asked, turning to Keonho. "For all you know, he just happens to share the same last name."
"Since when do random people with common last names carry black cards?" Keonho retorted, noting the sleek, limitless credit card Seonghyeon had used to pay.
"You actually managed to catch that?"
"He wasn't exactly trying to hide it."
"Still, don't do that again," Martin warned, walking over to the glass doors to flip the sign to CLOSED. "What if they decide to buy this entire store just to get us fired? That'd be the absolute worst."
"He'd have to be incredibly petty to go that far," Keonho grumbled, yanking the strings of his apron loose.
"Man, that's just how rich kids are. Zero humility," Martin said with a shrug. "And if they talk to our boss directly? That guy is so money-hungry, he’d sell this place in a heartbeat."
"Honestly, I’d sell this place too. Look at how filthy it is," Keonho said, pointing a finger at the permanent stains embedded around the counter.
"Hey, we actually clean up around here. Don't downplay our hard work."
"It's the morning shift part-timers. They don't lift a finger to clean, it’s annoying as hell."
Martin pursed his lips in agreement, looking out the glass window. "The one thing I don't get is why they even shopped here. There's a way better branch right across the street." He pointed toward the competing convenience store closer to the main road, which was brightly lit, fully stocked, and looked infinitely more vibrant.
Keonho shook his head, a sarcastic laugh escaping his lips. "Maybe he was hiding. Afraid of being recognized."
"Fair point," Martin conceded.
Keonho’s camaraderie with Martin went all the way back to their high school days. Now that they were nearing their third year in college, they could basically talk about anything—and that included badmouthing people who absolutely deserved it.
"You have classes next week, or are you attending the rally?" Keonho asked, raising an eyebrow as he made one last round with the cash inside the register.
"Nah, you know my department is always on the front lines when there’s a protest," Martin replied, mimicking the motion of holding up a heavy camera. "They need photos for the student bulletin."
Keonho nodded and went back to counting the bills, organizing the money even though it was the last thing he felt like doing.
"You think we'll cross paths there?" Martin wondered, standing in front of the counter with his hands on his hips.
Keonho shook his head, lifting the neatly stacked bills and tapping them gently against Martin's chest. "If you're up front with the crowd, I'll probably be stationed somewhere near the police line."
"Damn. Journalists really have it rough. I’d never want to stand anywhere near those guys."
"Me neither. But in times like this, it’s better to have a shield so you can deliver unbiased, legitimate news."
"Aren't you ever afraid?" Martin asked, his tone shifting into genuine concern. "You know, of losing your life in the middle of all this political chaos?"
Keonho brushed his hair back, snapping a rubber band around the bundle of bills. "Contrary to popular belief, the highest achievement in journalism is dying for the people. So, no. I'm not afraid."
To die for the freedom of this country would be my greatest honor.
"You're brave, willing to sacrifice your life for a country as filthy as this one."
"Change starts with the people, Martin-hyung," Keonho said, finally dropping the bundle of bills into the vault and securing the lock.
"I guess so," Martin said with a soft shrug. He was still skeptical about whether their countrymen were truly capable of change. After all, they were the ones who voted those corrupt officials into power in the first place. He gave Keonho a supportive pat on the back. "I'll see you when I see you on campus, alright?"
Keonho hummed in response, simply raising a hand to offer Martin a silent wave. The front door chime rang out, signaling Martin’s departure.
With a heavy sigh, Keonho began wrapping things up. He closed the vault and walked around the counter toward the employee locker room. He grabbed his hoodie and tossed his apron inside his locker. He figured he should drop by the laundromat on his way home since he needed to pick up the clothes his mother had left there earlier.
Once he finished his final checks, he grabbed the keys and cut the lights. He locked the main entrance from the inside, planning to slip out through the back exit.
Winter’s finally here, Keonho thought, opening his palm to catch the drifting snowflakes. They melted the instant they touched his skin. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he breathed out through his mouth, watching a fleeting cloud of frost form and vanish in the dark air.
He let his feet guide him, drifting mindlessly out of the alleyway until he reached the main road. The quiet sanctuary of the back alley was suddenly swallowed by the noise of the bustling main street. Even though it was late, the avenue was still alive, illuminated by a handful of twenty-four-hour shops scattered along the pavement.
Keonho was completely minding his own business when someone suddenly grabbed him, dragging him forcefully into a narrow gap between two buildings.
Keonho's eyes widened in shock as he tried to wrench his arm free from the stranger's grip. "What the fuck?! Let go of me!"
"Shh, be quiet for a second," the guy urged, pressing a panicking finger against his own lips. "Help me out, I'll pay you."
When Keonho looked up, he found himself staring into the exact same fox-like eyes from the convenience store. There was an odd warmth in his gaze that suddenly struck something deep inside Ahn Keonho.
"Just hide me."
Keonho was the type of person who simply couldn't turn a blind eye to someone in need. So, even though assisting an Eom went entirely against his better judgment, his stubborn moral compass overrode his reluctance. He exhaled a heavy, irritated sigh, gripped Seonghyeon’s shoulders, and forcefully spun them around—effectively shielding Seonghyeon by crowding him against the brick wall.
"Shouldn't you be out partying with your friends right now?" Keonho muttered, doing his absolute best to ignore the sudden proximity. He angled his head away, staring intently down to ease the mounting awkwardness between them.
Seonghyeon scoffed, ducking his head slightly to hide his face, keeping tabs of the people passing by. "Unfortunately, those friends you speak of were spies from God knows where they came from. Probably sent by my dad's enemies."
"Aren't you popular, huh?" Keonho commented sarcastically. "What, you getting assassinated?"
"Do you really think I'd disclose a private information that easily?" Seonghyeon raised a brow, lifting a hand to clutch Keonho's shoulders harshly.
Keonho hissed from the sudden pressure. "Worth a shot," he shrugged.
There were hurried footsteps approaching them fairly quickly, Seonghyeon widened his eyes and made himself smaller. Noticing the sheer terror rolling off the older guy, Keonho clicked his tongue. He stepped deeper into Seonghyeon’s personal space, tilting his head perfectly to block any view of Seonghyeon’s face from the alley entrance.
This is so wrong.
Why is he protecting a son of a corrupt politician?
One of the pursuers halted right at the gap between the buildings. Keonho possessed a sharp instinct for danger, even without looking directly at the street, he could feel the heavy, probing stare burning into his back.
"Hey, you!" the man shouted, clapping his hand to catch their attention.
Keonho wet his lips and ignored him. Thinking fast, he slid his hand down to rest subtly at Seonghyeon's waist, lingering there as he made smacking sounds to replicate the sound of kissing.
The clapping gradually weakened the longer he continued with his bluff. Soon, a second voice cut through the air—a woman, judging by the sharp, impatient pitch. "What's holding you up over there?"
"Boys kissing."
"Oh, wow." she gasped.
Keonho silently wanted to laugh when he saw the change in Seonghyeon's expression. He quickly shut it down though.
"Ow!" the man grunted, followed by the dull thud of something hitting his arm.
"You fucking idiot, we’re supposed to be hunting down Eom Seonghyeon! Why are you just standing there watching?" the woman scolded him, her voice fading as she dragged him away. "Good for those two, though."
And then footsteps faded away right after.
The moment those persistent footsteps faded, Keonho violently launched himself away from Seonghyeon. He felt utterly suffocated, crushed under the heavy weight of his own conflicting beliefs. "Don't let me see you again," he snapped.
Keonho desperately wanted to believe he had done the right thing.
Human life, even one tied to a tainted lineage, was still precious. The look of pure terror on Eom Seonghyeon’s face had only solidified that belief, it wasn't in Keonho's nature to simply walk away when someone was so clearly being hunted down.
"Wait," Seonghyeon pleaded, reaching out to grab Keonho's arm for support. "I said I’d pay you. Just... stay with me."
Keonho’s face visibly twisted in disapproval. "Look, Eom Seonghyeon. I’m not some freelance bodyguard you can just hire on a whim," he said, his voice raspy with exhaustion. He firmly gripped Seonghyeon’s hand and forced it off his arm. "My life is precious to me, and I have a family waiting at home. If you’re looking to drag someone down into your mess, it’s not going to be me. And keep that taxpayers' money in your pocket."
Seonghyeon shook his head in a panic. "I really need someone with me right now. I’m not asking you to guard me with your life. Please, just help me stay safe."
Keonho rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek, annoyance flaring up. He had a mountain of things to do tonight, and babysitting a stranger running for his life was definitely not on the list. He still had to pick up the laundry, and then face a grueling one-hour commute back home. It was already well past ten.
"How about I just hail you a taxi?" Keonho offered.
Seonghyeon squinted, shaking his head. "Won't work. They could track it."
Keonho dragged a hand down his face, thoroughly drained. "How long do you even need company for?"
Seonghyeon clasped his hands together, his demeanor turning deeply apologetic. He checked his phone, pulling up his messages. "Until my driver gets here. Around midnight?"
"Yeah, absolutely not. Find someone else," Keonho bluntly declined.
He turned on his heel to walk away, but Seonghyeon forcefully yanked his sleeve, holding him back.
"Hold on—hold on, seriously! Ahn Keonho, right? I saw your name clip." Seonghyeon blurted out desperately, his composure completely fracturing. "I'm actually only seventeen. You know it's illegal to leave a minor out past curfew, right? You have to help me out, hyung"
Keonho stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at him, deadpan. "Says the twenty-year-old on the ID?"
Seonghyeon groaned the moment his cover was blown. He had completely forgotten that Keonho had already scrutinized his ID. It was a total bust.
Staring at him, Keonho honestly wondered how this guy was still alive. Why was he so damn intent on keeping Keonho by his side when they had only met an hour ago?
And more importantly... why couldn't Keonho just walk away?
The neon lights flickering along the main street were slowly dimming, a sign that the rest of the world was finally winding down for the night. Keonho’s mother was probably already worrying, and he was in no mood to endure an endless scolding when he got home.
Letting out a defeated, frustrated huff, Keonho grabbed Seonghyeon by the wrist and yanked him out from the narrow gap between the buildings. "If you want my company that badly, you’ll just have to deal with my schedule."
"Where are we going?"
"The laundromat."
"Why?"
"To grab a bite to eat," Keonho replied, dripping with heavy sarcasm. "To get my laundry, obviously. Are you fucking dense?"
"How was I supposed to know you had laundry to pick up?" Seonghyeon rolled his eyes, though his gaze lingered down on the hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. "For all I know, you're using a laundromat as a front and planning to grind me into mincemeat."
Keonho’s face twisted in disgust at the graphic description. "Sometimes, thoughts are meant to stay inside your head."
"If I go inside a public place, things could get really ugly," Seonghyeon muttered into the freezing air, his free hand instinctively coming up to touch his chin. "People might recognize me."
Keonho heard the hesitation in his voice. What else does this guy want from me? Keonho was already being generous enough by protecting someone who clearly didn't deserve it; did he really have to sacrifice his own errands, too?
Keonho bit the inside of his lip, trying to think of a quick way to mask Seonghyeon’s face. It was a laundromat he frequented so often that the staff knew him by name. It would be a massive pain in the ass if they started prying into the identity of the guy hovering next to him.
He let go of Seonghyeon, abruptly dropping his wrist without thinking. Seonghyeon raised an eyebrow, looking offended. "What are you doing?"
"Stripping," Keonho said flatly, already pulling at the hem of his hoodie.
Seonghyeon’s eyes widened, his head whipping around to check the street for any prying eyes. "Right here?! Isn't that public indecency? You know, nudity? That's illegal."
Okay. Now Keonho was just genuinely baffled. If earlier he was wondering how this guy hadn't been caught yet, right now he was questioning how someone could be this annoyingly clueless.
If Seonghyeon were left to roam the streets alone tonight, he’d probably end up dead by morning. It would almost be hilarious, if the threat of him being actively hunted down weren't so incredibly real.
"You know what else is illegal?" Keonho asked.
"Yeah?"
"You, still loitering around out here," Keonho shot back with a massive eye roll. He shook out the heavy fabric of his hoodie and held it out. "Put this on and hide your face."
Seonghyeon didn't argue this time. He took the clothing and slipped his head through the opening, pulling it down over his frame. He cleared his throat, adjusting the hood to cover his features before casting a sidelong glance at Keonho.
"And yet, here you are, staying by my side," Seonghyeon murmured, a slight edge returning to his voice. "Pretty sure aiding and abetting is illegal, too."
"Shut up," Keonho muttered begrudgingly.
The air was growing increasingly colder with every passing minute, and Keonho was currently stranded in just a thin shirt because a certain someone was wearing his hoodie. He let out a frosty sigh as they finally reached the laundromat, pushing the glass door open to step inside. Guiding Seonghyeon by the shoulder, he steered him toward the waiting bench and pushed him down gently.
"Stay here," he ordered. Seonghyeon scrunched his face in mild protest before nodding. Keonho then walked over to the counter to claim the laundry his mother had dropped off earlier that afternoon while he was still at the university.
"Thank you so much, Auntie," he said, offering a polite smile and a wave as he crouched down, lifting the heavy plastic bag full of clothes up against his chest.
He walked back over to where Seonghyeon was waiting and set the heavy bag down right next to the older boy's restless, kicking legs. "We can wait out the time here. I know the owner," he noted briefly, navigating to the far end of the bench before finally sitting down.
Seonghyeon gave a silent nod, casting a quick, sideways glance at him. And just like that, a heavy silence enveloped the room, broken only by the low hum of the spinning dryers.
The quiet gave Keonho's naturally curious mind room to breathe, making him question the reality of his situation even more. For all he knew, he was sitting on a massive scoop. He could probably extract an explosive story from this situation alone. But he quickly shook the thought away—that would be completely unethical, a betrayal of the true principles of journalism.
A senator's son being actively hunted in the dead of night could mean a dozen different things. Speculating on the possibilities made Keonho's mind race for answers. Still, strip away the headlines, and Seonghyeon was just an ordinary guy his own age. He wasn't the politician, he just happened to be Eom Il-hwan's son.
Keonho broke the silence, keeping his voice low. "Why were you even out so late anyway?"
"Just... stuff," Seonghyeon answered, keeping his response vague.
"And here I thought you'd answer me recklessly," Keonho chuckled dryly.
Seonghyeon didn't offer a reply. He simply dipped his head lower, letting his long bangs shadow his eyes. Keonho picked up on the cue, Seonghyeon clearly didn't want to dig into it anymore. He understood. Reliving a traumatic event through forced conversation was exhausting. Keonho was a considerate person—it just rarely showed on the surface.
Deciding to let it go, he resolved to just sit tight until the driver arrived. But trying to kill an hour in a warm room in the dead of night was a losing battle. A heavy wave of drowsiness began to claw at the deepest parts of Keonho's system. He tried his best to fight it off, wanting to stay alert to ensure they both made it out of the night safely.
His efforts were cut short by a sudden thud as Seonghyeon’s head dropped onto his shoulder.
Great. The guy was completely passed out.
And Keonho felt like he'll pass out too. It was warm.
Keonho couldn't help but stress over how on earth he was going to get home this late. Sacrificing his time, his energy, and his own errands just to babysit a stranger he barely knew was incredibly reckless. Keonho knew that. He wasn't stupid. But he was already here, caught in the middle of it, and there was no turning back now. It wasn't like he could just dump a sleeping guy and walk away.
A long time passed while he sat there, trapped under the weight of his own thoughts.
Eventually, he noticed the owner of the laundromat staring intently at them from behind the counter. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking if she needed something, but softened it with a quick grin so he wouldn't seem rude.
"Is he your boyfriend, dear?" she asked out of nowhere.
Keonho nearly choked on a laugh at the sheer absurdity of the question. He barely even knew the guy, let alone share a relationship with him.
"Oh, no, auntie. Just someone I know," he replied, waving a hand dismissively.
The old woman nodded, though her face made it perfectly clear she didn't buy it for a second. Keonho couldn't really blame her, though; she was probably just used to seeing him completely alone whenever he dropped by her shop.
"How is your grandmother doing, Keonho?" she asked, gently changing the subject.
The casual question instantly wiped the faint smile right off Keonho's face. He pressed his lips together, the familiar weight settling heavily in his chest. Day by day, his grandmother was slipping away, though there were rare moments when she would suddenly burst with her old energy. Keonho felt entirely in the dark about her actual medical condition, but they simply didn't have the money to take her to a specialist for a proper checkup.
Still, refusing to let himself sound defeated, he forced a polite tone. "She's doing alright, auntie. Still fighting, doing her best."
The old woman offered him the softest, most sympathetic smile Keonho had seen in a long time. "That's good to hear."
Keonho opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of someone knocking on the glass door cut him off. Standing outside was an older man dressed in a simple white shirt and jeans. Keonho raised a confused eyebrow at him. Meeting his gaze, the older man pointed directly at the guy snoring softly on Keonho's shoulder and mouthed the words: Sir Seonghyeon.
This must be the driver, Keonho observed.
He slung his arm over Seonghyeon's shoulder and tapped him gently, urging him to wake up. When Seonghyeon showed no sign of waking up even with the constant tapping, Keonho moved his palm to his face and gave him a quick slap. "Wake the hell up."
Seonghyeon flinched, his head popping up from where it laid just milliseconds before. He caressed his cheek and hissed. "Yah! Fuck was that for."
"Your driver is here. Get home so I could get out of here quickly," Keonho grunted making a shooing motion towards Seonghyeon.
Seonghyeon turned his body to glance behind him, once he took a good look of the old man, his eyes quickly glittered. "Uncle!" he exclaimed, his shoulders dropping out of sheer relief. He stood up and made his way outside of the laundromat, exchanging a quick hug with the old man.
Keonho gave a bow to the owner and picked up the plastic bag with both hands, pushing the door with his torso so he could get out. "So, am I allowed to bounce now?" he asked, a bit impatient. It was already midnight after all.
Seonghyeon squinted his eyes at him, shaking his head. Keonho responded with his brows raised, about to open his mouth to complain until Seonghyeon pulled out his wallet and took out a fat stack of bills. By fat stack, Keonho was being literal. Shit was as thick as a 300-pages book.
"The hell you want me to do with that?" he questioned, confused.
"Your pay?" Seonghyeon stated as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.
Keonho pointed to himself, ridiculously baffled. "You're paying me with… that?"
"Yeah? Is it not enough?"
Once again, Keonho found himself buffering every time Eom Seonghyeon said something so out of touch with reality. "No, but like. You're using my own money to pay me. You're using the money of the people."
Seonghyeon processed what Keonho was saying, opening his mouth and then closing it over and over again. He scratched his head. "How are you so sure that these are embezzled funds?"
Keonho's lips twitched, his nose wrinkling in the process. "Maybe because, you're the son of Eom Il-hwan. I don't know, Eom. You tell me," he taunted.
Except Seonghyeon still looked clueless, he even leaned in to whisper something to his driver, making Keonho feel mocked the longer he stood there. He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling annoyance building inside of him.
The nerve of this bourgeois. I swear.
"If you don't need anything else, I'm out of here." Keonho adjusted the plastic bag against his chest, ready to turn over. Until, Seonghyeon pulled him back.
"If you're not going to accept your pay, let me at least lend you a ride, yeah?" Seonghyeon offered. "I pay for gas, too. So, the money circles back."
Every part of Keonho's heart wanted to refuse, to push Seonghyeon away, and tell him to suck it up the butt. But, right now, every fibre of his rationality told him to be practical. It was midnight and he had been thinking about how to commute home when it was this late the entire time they had spent together.
So, instead of telling Seonghyeon to suck it up the butt—he ended up with the courtesy to tell that to himself, and now he's sitting at the back seat of Seonghyeon's Bugatti.
"I'm getting you home safe, don't worry," Seonghyeon beamed, typing in Keonho's address.
Keonho offered no reply, simply shaking his head. This night had been exhaustingly bizarre that he wished he could just get home as quickly as possible. Spending time inside this car felt nauseating, Keonho didn't know whether it was because he had motion sickness or it was just his hatred for anything grand.
He had to rub both his palms against his face to wake himself up. How did he end up here again?
Right. 'cause I decided to suck it up the butt.
Most of the car ride ended up in silence, and Keonho had been deeply grateful for that. If he had to deal with useless conversations on top of dealing with this situation—he would have exploded.
Time passed by smoothly without having to worry that much. Keonho had asked the driver to park it right beside the street corner. He had planned on getting off right before they even reached his house; just to keep things safe. After all, disclosing private matters to a stranger could get pretty bad.
Seonghyeon rolled his windows down once Keonho got off the car. "I'll see you again soon?" he suggested.
"Fuck off," Keonho grunted.
"I'm going to visit the convenience store again tomorrow."
"I'm resigning," he groaned. Keonho didn't give any chance for Seonghyeon to reply as he ran off towards the dark street ahead, barely keeping his balance because of the stack of clothes he was carrying.
That was a one time thing. Keonho swore under his breath. If Seonghyeon appeared in front of his face again, he would genuinely commit hell on earth.
✎ ̼
The following days had been peaceful contrary to what Keonho was expecting a while ago. Seonghyeon hadn't visited the convenience store after that day and there weren't any recent news regarding his father circling around. Keonho somehow felt like he should celebrate that the universe finally listened to him after all, but there was another thought buried at the back of his mind—conspiring that Seonghyeon was probably hunted down even after all of his efforts to stay hidden.
It was impossible for Keonho to shake the anxiety, driven by his endless curiosity and his natural hunger for a story. After all, it was a first-hand experience. He had literally spent three hours hiding a senator's son. If the guy was going to end up caught regardless, Keonho bitterly thought he should have just taken the chance to interview him right then and there.
Then again, that would have been highly immoral. Taking advantage of someone in a vulnerable position like that would have felt like dragging his own integrity through the dirt.
Keonho heaved a sigh and massaged his temples. He'd been spending the recent days hunched over and typing furiously on the laptop provided by the school, stress had been piling up for him so far. Aside from being a med student, Keonho's a campus journalist, an athlete, and he had two scholarships to maintain. At this point he's running on pure fucking automated energy.
There is no room for rest in poverty. That was the absolute truth Keonho had lived by from the moment he became aware of how the world worked. Rest was a luxury he couldn't afford; as long as he was struggling financially, hitting the brakes simply wasn't an option.
Faint voices drifted down the hallway toward the publication room where Keonho was working. He didn't pay them much attention, assuming it was just fellow student editors or organization members. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he focused on the article he had been dissecting for the past hour, making detailed notes.
The door creaked open. "Are you really going to take it that far?" a familiar, deep voice asked.
Keonho kept his eyes glued to his screen, remaining seemingly unfazed, but his ears instantly perked up. It was a knee-jerk reflex; conversations inside the student press room were rarely confidential when others were around.
"I don't know. I just feel like if I don't take advantage of the current chaos, I’ll never find the right timing again," another voice replied. Keonho noted how oddly familiar it sounded, though he couldn't quite put a name to it.
"Is that the reason why you're here?"
"Yeah, I'm going to join."
Footsteps approached Keonho's cubicle when the conversation ended between those two men. Keonho broke a sweat, not wanting to come off as eavesdropping—he quickly dipped his head down to pretend like he was sleeping.
It wasn't clever though. Because his shoulders were tapped by a strong hand right after.
"Ahn Keonho," the guy with the deep voice uttered. Now that Keonho could hear him clearer, he realized that it was his senior—Kim Juhoon.
"Yes, hyung-nim?"
As patronizing as it was, Keonho had no choice but to respond to him. Even though it was old-fashioned, hierarchy was still a huge thing, it wasn't something that could be thrown away by the modern times. And maybe, it just had something to do with the fact that Juhoon used to train Keonho when he was a freshman.
Keonho's respect for Juhoon didn't stem from fear or authority, it was from gratitude and not forgetting who helped you when you needed it the most.
Juhoon cleared his throat before speaking again. "You think you can handle training a new guy?"
Keonho had to contemplate it for a few minutes. Honestly speaking, he didn't really want to take someone under his wing when he barely had any time for himself. It was like adopting a hamster and leaving it to fend for itself. Keonho wasn't that heartless.
But he had never been able to say no to people, which was admittedly, his greatest weakness.
"Don't pressure yourself," Juhoon assured him. "If you can't, I can pass him off to Wonhee-noona instead."
Keonho sighed defeated. "Is he a freshman?"
Juhoon shook his head as he gestured beside him and then for some odd reason, someone appeared from behind him. "He's a second year, same as you are."
Keonho looked over hesitantly. He was greeted by a tall young man with slightly slanted eyes, a sharply defined nose, and an unbuttoned uniform topped with a beanie. A cluttered mess of random keychains dangled from his ID, and various pins decorated his lanyard. Worst of all, his eyes looked unsettlingly familiar.
Fuck, he internally cursed. What the fuck is he doing here?
"Ah—" Seonghyeon blurted out, surprised. He pointed a finger straight at Keonho like he was accusing him of something.
"No." Keonho spun his chair and went back to the articles he was reading. Although, that wasn't able to distract him that much.
"You know him?" Juhoon asked Seonghyeon, confused.
"I do," Seonghyeon replied sheepishly, moving closer to Keonho.
Keonho had to shut his eyes to stop himself from physically spasming from pure anger. He meant it when he said he was going to commit hell on earth if Eom Seonghyeon appeared in front of him again.
"You're mistaking me for someone else," he countered but it came out weak. He gave Juhoon a sideways glance, putting on the most pitiful expression he could muster. "I—I'm fully booked already, hyung-nim."
"Really? You don't seem to have much project besides the rally next week," Juhoon informed, crossing his arms.
One thing about Kim Juhoon that Keonho took note of was that he hated it when members would give him excuses just to refuse the work given to them. Fortunately, Keonho survived three years without facing the consequences of doing so. But, right now, he was sure that his beloved streak would be broken today.
Could you blame him? He really didn't want to be tangled up with Eom Seonghyeon or any of his mess. And why the fuck is he even joining the journalism club? What the hell did he think they do here? Write fanfictions?
"I want him to train me, hyung," Seonghyeon said with the most infuriating smile ever.
Keonho let out the most audible groan ever heard by mankind when he registered what Seonghyeon had just said. "Please, don't," he begged. "I'd rather you run me over with a car."
"Didn't that happen to you in another universe?" Seonghyeon mocked.
"Shut up. Don't talk to me."
"Now, what did I do?"
"I don't talk to sons of corrupt politicians." Keonho glared.
Seonghyeon was taken a back for a second. He and Juhoon exchanged a few glances until Seonghyeon flashed him a smile. "Good thing I'm not one."
"Yeah," Juhoon agreed. "He's actually a daughter."
They're genuinely messing with me.
"Keep this up and I'm genuinely not going to take him in," Keonho told them, so over it. "Hyung-nim, you know I don't like obnoxious people like him."
Juhoon pursed his lips. Keonho saw a glimmer of hope in that singular movement until Juhoon opened his mouth. "Seonghyeon's a sweetheart. You'll get along well."
"Exactly," Seonghyeon chimed from the side.
With that, Juhoon left them alone. Their senior received a call from the school principal which Keonho thought was the worst fucking timing ever.
"Did you end up resigning?" Seonghyeon tried to start, but Keonho gave no reply.
"Who would've thought that we were studying in the same university," Seonghyeon commented. "Isn't that fate?"
"Fate, my ass," Keonho whispered. "More like, a fucking nightmare."
"No? It's definitely fate. I'm so happy right now."
Ahn Keonho heaved a deep sigh. He really shouldn't had tangled himself with Eom Seonghyeon.