Chapter 1
Notes:
tw: blood
Chapter Text
Lonesome fools build lonesome walls to hide behind, and cry behind.
"Sarah", Mojave 3
~
The pale moon rose high up in the Seoul sky, clear but for a few discreet clouds, the night silent except for the faint breeze rustling the leaves and a lone owl hooting in the trees. Perched high up in an ancient oak, Jisung had found a comfortable position leaning against the trunk behind him, sitting on a large branch as his legs hung down in the void. He had been hiding from sight for two hours now, dressed as black as the night and masked so only the glint of the moonlight reflecting in his eyes could ever betray the secret of his presence.
He observed the luxurious mansion beneath him, the large windows showing no light except one on the second floor. Behind it, Jisung could picture a warm and stylish office filled with carved wooden furniture and leather couches, large handmade carpets and designer lamps and yet, there still laid a horrible painting of some brown and grey circles he couldn’t understand the meaning even if he tried. He sat back up when the man he was looking for finally showed his face at the window, passionate about his phone call conversation, unaware of his presence. Jisung didn’t have much time, he had to act soon.
But two men were patrolling in the garden below him. Athletic and imposing, they were both connected by walkie-talkies, and Jisung looked around for a way to bypass them. If they saw him, they would surely inform other guards inside the mansion, and then his target would be unreachable. And then he would either retreat or die by their hands. That could not happen.
He knew this bounty would be difficult to obtain but Jisung really needed the money right now, and well, that guy was horrible, he didn’t deserve to live anymore after all the hurt he had and still caused to the world with his tech company. Why was he smiling on the phone? Was he yet again plotting another business strategy that would enrich him but ultimately cause the poverty and death of thousands of families in other parts of the world?
Jisung picked up the gun hidden in his bag, the metal shining brightly under the moonlight. He equipped it with the silencer, still keeping an eye on the guards walking slowly around the house, scrutinizing the night. Until one of them left the other alone to take a peek at the other side of the mansion. He took a deep breath, it was maybe his only chance.
He put his bag back on and slowly climbed down the trunk, keeping as silent as he could without being spotted. The fresh grass muffled the sound of his feet when he finally reached the ground, quickly hiding behind another large trunk when the guard looked in his direction, hearing noises.
Jisung stayed still and assessed the situation: the guard was still alone by the North side of the house, it was his opportunity before the other one came back. He waited until the guard looked away from his hiding spot and walked towards the mansion as soon as he turned around, keeping low to stay below window level.
He squatted down and walked towards the guard, keeping his breath as discreet as possible despite the blood pumping fast in his veins. Five meters away from the man, he aimed at his head, killing him in one shot as the man didn’t even have time to understand his life was bound to end tonight, not seeing the gun ultimately controlling his fate.
Jisung rushed to catch the guard’s body before he fell in the pool and the splashing sound alarmed everyone. He groaned at the heavy weight of the man’s muscular body, not expecting such a difference with himself. But before Jisung could put him down and hide away in the night, the other guard came back from his tour.
“Hey! What are you doing?” he screamed at him, quickly reaching for the gun in his belt.
Jisung instantly dropped the guard’s body and shot the second man with a bullet in the chest before he could grab his gun. He still tried to reach for the walkie-talkie in his pocket but Jisung shot him again in the head, silencing him forever and bringing peace back to the night.
He unloaded both of their guns and paced around the house to find the back door to enter inside, hoping nobody else heard the guard’s warning voice. His weapon still held high in front of him, Jisung opened the heavy wooden door, instantly aiming inside in case a guard jumped on him.
But it was dark and silent inside as he stepped into what seemed to be a cave. He walked around the dozens of wine bottles, all way too expensive for him not to steal one once the job would be done. He didn’t even like wine, but he liked stealing from horrible people, and this 2009 Petrus would sell really well anyways. He opened the door leading inside the mansion with the same precautions as before, but kept feeling tense as he walked the rich hallway, filled with art pieces and precious wooden furniture he couldn’t even dream of buying.
Keeping his breath low and his gun aiming in front of him, he didn’t see anyone nor hear any noise, quickly looking around if any guard roamed the first floor. Not having time to really make sure no one was there, he climbed up the stairs as fast as he could without being heard. He was glad his target was a big fan of carpets, otherwise his footsteps would have been heard ages ago, Jisung too tense to be as discreet as usual. Out of money, he really needed to succeed this mission. He couldn’t fail.
He hid when he reached the top of the stairs, leaning against the stone wall when he saw another guard in front of the office door. Good news, his target was still inside the room, laughing devilishly on the phone. Bad news, he had to get past at least another guard. And this one stayed very still, eyes in front of him as he regularly scanned the straight and open hallway, hyper alert.
There was nowhere Jisung could hide and he unfortunately didn’t have much more time to act, because as soon as the target left his office, he would be guarded again and would flee before Jisung could even reach him. So, he tightly gripped the handle of his gun, taking a deep breath before he walked into the hallway, aiming directly at the guard.
But the bullet only reached his shoulder, and despite being surprised and wounded, the guard still had time to grab his own gun as well, shooting towards Jisung who plunged down, the gun sound tearing the silence in the house. And if no one knew someone had entered the mansion, well now they knew.
He shot back at the guard, his blood painting the beige wall behind him as he fell dead to the ground in front of the office door. And before Jisung knew, another guard had entered the hallway, running towards him, hand on his walkie-talkie.
Fuck…
One hand on the handle of the office door, he still fired towards the man, missing his shot completely as the guard was closing in dangerously. Jisung tried to shoot again but he had used all of his bullets, now only left with his hands to fight back. The guard shot at him as he dived down, attacking the man head first and tackling him to the ground. Jisung was grateful the guard was not as tall as the others, because he managed to knock him out with the handle of his gun without taking too many blows, even if one of the guard’s punch to his stomach took his breath away for a few seconds.
Jisung got away from his unconscious body as quickly as he could, catching his breath for a few seconds and attentively observing the hallway because he knew it was just a matter of seconds before other guards would follow. He grabbed the amulets in his pocket and loaded his gun again, until he heard the sound of a window breaking from inside the office.
Did the target get away? Did he jump from fear of the gun sounds in front of his office door?
No, he couldn’t just escape. He had no rights to!
Jisung rushed inside, expecting to meet fresh air and to follow the man outside, but instead he only found a small hole through the cracked office window and below it his target lying on the ground.
He ran to his side, noticing the crimson blood spilling on the white carpet and the carbon arrow planted in between his eyes, killing him on the spot. Jisung kept his scream to himself, because first he had lost another contract and the money associated, and second because he had lost it to that same fucking guy again! There was no fucking way. He clenched his fists as he recognized the arrows for yet another time, the red and white dots on the black feathers way too familiar to him.
But noises coming from the hallway interrupted Jisung’s rage and he quickly took out a knife from his bag to cut off a feather from the arrows, hoping to find who the assassin stealing all his money could be. He broke the window completely and jumped out of the house, rolling when he reached the ground to cushion his fall. He climbed back up the oak to escape from the mansion’s high walls, guns firing behind him. Still not as loud as the rage boiling in his heart.
He ran to his motorcycle parked a few streets away and roared the engine, driving away as fast as he could, effectively losing the guards for good. He reached his apartment barely thirty minutes later despite being on the other side of Seoul, stopping the motorcycle at his underground parking spot and taking a few breaths to decrease the adrenaline in his blood.
Still at a loss for words, the ride hadn’t managed to calm his anger down. He quickly packed up his gun, balaclava and other signs of his night out as he climbed up the stairs to his apartment, reaching the third floor in no time, his mind only focused on showering and finding information about that arrow assassin.
He unlocked the door slowly and closed it with even more caution to not make any sound, before heading straight to his room and undressing there. He quickly grabbed fresh clothes and locked himself in the bathroom, observing the bruise forming on his stomach. It was not too big, luckily.
The water didn’t even have time to turn warm that he jumped in the shower, trembling under the cold stream rolling down his shoulders and back. But he had been too hot underneath his balaclava, after all they were barely in October, the nights still weren’t that cold. Not mentioning the rage that burned his skin as well.
He scrubbed his body harshly, thinking about yet another failure of securing a contract and money. He couldn’t let that archer keep going with this, he had to find them as soon as possible and get rid of them. But the worst thing about this whole situation was that, this time, the archer had killed his target while Jisung was still there. Usually, he arrived too late, but today, they were both at the same place at the same time. If Jisung had looked around, maybe he could have seen the archer, and killed them before they once again stole what was rightfully his. Stupid, right? To think he could have solved two problems in one night, but he was now left with both, only able to curse himself in the shower.
Once clean and soothed by the smell of the cedar shower gel remaining on his skin, Jisung headed to the living room, hair still dripping wet as the sun slowly rose in the sky, the dawn of a new day shining a soft pink glow in the room. He opened his computer, still logged onto the dark web and the contract he had just lost. He hadn’t refreshed the page, but he knew once he did it wouldn’t show up anymore.
15 million won. Gone…
He looked up at his bank account, less than three million won laying there, warm until his loan would take everything away. He sighed, his mistakes laid down before him. He had been too optimistic when his contracts were thriving and he was still making quite a lot of money. He had bought this rather large apartment in the centre of Seoul, and had already paid off half of it, but now he struggled and had brought his loan payment from ten million won a month down to three million only, and was thinking of extending his debt for a few more years and lower his payment to barely a million won a month if he didn’t win any contract soon.
And he stared at the feather on the table in front of him, silently cursing at it with his eyes. The cause of his misery… The archer had already stolen more than seven of his contracts in the span of a few months, and each time he had found this design on the same black arrows. A red and a white dot, what could that even mean? Red for blood and white for purity? Or light? Jisung didn’t know. Was there even a meaning to begin with?
He had already done it before, but today again he swore to himself to find whoever that archer was and deal with them. Enemies naturally came with this job, he had discovered it years ago when his own uncle got killed, but it was now his time to kill an obstacle. Seven times… Chances were he was being targeted, he had to fight back.
Jisung refreshed the page, the contract disappearing from his computer, replaced by other offers that had popped up this past week. He reviewed them, looking for contracts he could execute quite soon and didn’t require too much prior observation or investigation. One that would assure him enough money to lose contracts for the next few months and find that serial archer.
A CEO who’d been found guilty of tax evasion but never convicted.
A man who had killed his wife and kidnapped his own daughter.
Two sisters who had been harassing an old lady for years now.
He filtered every offer, most of them not corresponding to his criteria or justice compass. Until he found an interesting one about a man making money off employees he overworked and underpaid, mistreating and threatening to fire them and turn their life into hell if they dared talk about his blackmailing tendencies and numerous labour laws infringements.
Tired and wishing he would pay for his crimes, an employee had posted this demand, alongside a photo of three large bruises the man had done to her. Jisung hesitated, it would mean a bit of an investigation but the man actually worked not too far from his apartment, and if he fully focused on the mission, maybe in less than a week he would make it. Plus, he knew he always lost to his enemy on that type of contract, so maybe he could set a trap and capture him at the same time. And well, the 20 million won proposed also attracted him immensely. He would just have to be faster than the archer to kill the target and then catch them. Oh, how great that would be…
The sound of a door opening interrupted his search as he closed his computer quickly, grabbing the feather and hiding it in his pocket before his roommate entered the living room. He had lacked so much money that he had to rent a room to someone and get money to help pay off his loan. Pathetic, right?
His roommate, Minho, trudged to the living room, dressed up in his regular jeans and t-shirt combo, ready to leave the apartment despite the early hour. Despite hating renting the second bedroom of his apartment at first, Jisung was still glad he had found someone like Minho, someone respectful and well-mannered.
He was still in university, working a side job to pay off his studies and Jisung rented him the apartment for five hundred thousand won a month despite being in the city centre. He desperately needed to increase his rent but he knew Minho worked a lot and was already struggling with money. After all, he was just a student who wanted to graduate, so for now, he decided to keep his rent low.
“Hey,” Jisung answered faintly when Minho slowly waved his hand at him, still half asleep.
He observed him as he struggled to open the fridge, not putting enough strength in his hand. His lost state endeared Jisung a bit. Minho picked up a meal he had prepped himself last night, packing it in his bag as he made himself a cup of coffee, under Jisung’s stare.
The sound of the coffee machine filled up the silence in between them, Jisung still sitting on the couch, Minho half-sleeping against the counter. One couldn’t say they talked a lot, Jisung was too scared to share anything about him and accidentally spill anything about his “job”. He had actually spied on Minho when he started renting his apartment two months ago, but hadn’t found anything suspicious about him. He had been scared the older would spy on him or be sent by someone because, in the end, Jisung had enemies. And visibly persistent ones…
But Minho was rather normal, just focused on his school life, and didn’t share too much about himself, which Jisung loved because if Minho didn’t talk too much to him, that meant they kept a distance between each other and his job remained a secret. Now, and ever.
Minho poured the coffee into his take-away cup, recognizable because it was covered with a few cat stickers, leaving some coffee for Jisung who he assumed was also getting ready for the day. His hair dripped wet from the shower, and yet his eyes still looked exhausted, the dark circles under them visible despite the low luminosity of the room. Was Jisung leaving for work? Coming back? Minho didn’t know anymore, he had never understood Jisung’s schedule.
He sipped a bit of coffee, the hot liquid sending chills of happiness through his spine. He closed his eyes and sighed happily, licking his lips as he appreciated his drink, a great start to his day.
Jisung still observed him as he struggled to put on his shoes, still holding his coffee cup in one hand, but eventually managed to tie them up with great effort. He put on his hoodie before grabbing his backpack, a cat keychain dangling from it. He definitely loved cats, and Jisung liked that about him. They weren’t close, but sometimes Jisung wished they were. A dream. A fantasy. A tale you repeatedly told yourself to hold on and keep hope in this tasteless world. Unfortunately, Jisung had built high walls that didn’t let anyone cross over.
And so, Minho left and closed the door without sparing another glance at Jisung who sighed of relief, once again successfully keeping his assassin’s activities secret, once again successfully keeping someone away as well. Yay…
He opened up his computer again, reading the employee’s offer one more time. He definitely could make it in a week or less. He actually wanted to start his investigation right now but fatigue crept up his bones, and he yawned, unable to stay awake much longer without collapsing.
So, he walked to his bedroom, ignoring the smell of hot freshly brewed coffee that his body wished to drink, appreciative of Minho’s gesture, and fell asleep in less than a minute. He didn’t care if his door was not locked as usual, or if his black spy clothes were still on the floor, Minho wouldn’t be back before 10pm. He never came back before 10pm and never opened his door anyways, so Jisung’s cover stayed safe as he slept through the day.
But by the end of afternoon, Jisung was in the city’s finance centre, a district filled with high glass towers and coffee shops solely targeting busy business men dressed in suits and carrying briefcases all day long, all week long, all year long. He wore a shirt and some suit pants to blend into the crowd, the glasses were maybe a bit too much but it did suit him well, that’s what he thought when he tried them on earlier anyways.
He was on the first floor of the target’s building, sitting on a chair in the café right next to the badge scanners to enter the elevators. There were at least five security agents on this floor alone to monitor everyone entering or leaving the building.
Jisung sipped his iced americano as he observed the place, wondering if there were any other access to the top floors, but apart from the elevators behind the badge scanners or a lone door that led to the underground parking, he had no other options to leave the first floor than the main glass revolving doors.
He waited for two hours, learning the different cameras’ locations and monitoring who entered or left the building. Firstly, to not miss his target, but also to potentially see another assassin like him, one that would be working on this contract too, one that would behave strangely enough to remind him of himself, to make him think maybe his archer enemy was here.
But no one seemed out of place enough to draw his attention, so he sipped his third iced americano of the afternoon, hoping his target would come soon because these were quite expensive and he couldn’t afford too many of them. And his prayer was answered as his target passed the badge scanners, not greeting back the security guards, too involved in the business conversation on his phone.
Followed by two personal bodyguards, one of them even holding his briefcase, he disappeared through the parking door, urging Jisung to get up and follow him. He didn’t look at the security guards that eyed him up and down as he crossed the hall to reach the parking door, but he tried to look at ease in this business environment, acting as if he belonged here. If he looked arrogant enough, then he would not be spotted, right?
He rushed down the staircase once out of sight, trying to keep silent despite his feet stomping onto the metallic steps, hearing the huge door leading to the parking lot closing below him. He paced again to open the door, catching a glimpse of his target still on the phone, walking towards a pick-up area.
Noticing the bodyguards were scrutinizing the parking lot, Jisung found a hiding place behind a SUV, the large tire hiding him enough to not be spotted. The place was desert so he could actually hear the target’s conversation clearly, and he noted down on his phone every detail important enough to be remembered.
“You know we can’t meet in the city,” he argued with another man, trying to find a solution. “Too many eyes here… How about we meet further up the river outside of Seoul, after Hanam? Nobody would find us there.”
Perfect. It would make it easier for Jisung to kill him if they were in a remote location with no other witness. Plus, that meant any other assassin would eventually find the same address, and they would all choose to kill him there, that was an easy choice to make.
“Friday night? Fine…” the target reluctantly agreed with the man on the phone as a Jaguar stopped in front of him, but the conversation didn’t end here. He kept arguing as he sat inside the car, the two bodyguards keeping an eye on him for as long as the car remained in the parking lot.
Jisung noted down the plate number, also getting a good view on the driver, hoping it was his personal chauffeur that would pick him up every day. It would make his plan to follow the target easier.
The car left the underground parking and the bodyguards walked towards the door next to Jisung who lowered himself behind the tires, making himself as small as possible to not be seen. But they didn’t spot him and left the parking lot as Jisung stayed there for a bit, observing the different cameras installed there. Only two near the entry and one above the access door to the building. Manageable to stay hidden in the parking.
Jisung left a few minutes after the guards, going up the road the cars used to not pass by the first floor’s security guards again.
Once back in the streets, he went on to take care of the second task he had to complete today. He walked a few minutes to reach an archery shop, one of the biggest one in Seoul, in hopes of finding information about the other assassin.
He quickly passed by the different bows and arrows, directly looking for the feathers. He could recognize his enemy’s design in less than a second. But he searched for long minutes amidst the different feathers, and none of them looked like the one he held in his hand. Of course, it couldn’t be so easy, right?
“Can I help you, sir?” a seller approached Jisung after seeing him struggle by himself, unused to someone so well dressed entering his shop.
“Um, I’m looking for this,” he held the feather in front of the seller, the man taking it in his hands to observe it despite Jisung’s reluctance to let go of his precious asset.
“Those are pretty rare,” he explained as he observed the details. “It’s a shield feather but it’s been through helical fletching. It has to be done at home manually or at a specialized shop but we don’t really do that here–”
He stopped when he noticed Jisung’s confused face, the face of a man who didn’t understand half of the words he just used.
“Sorry sir,” he smiled, showing him the different parts of the feather with his finger. “A “shield” feather is just the form it has, it means it’s cut at the largest part of the plastic and then has a steep curve that reaches back to the arrow shaft.”
Jisung nodded, focused to fully understand what he meant. Whatever detail that could bring him to that archer, he would take it.
“Fletching is basically what makes the arrow fly straight in the air and keeping it as stabilized as possible. Helical fletching means the feathers are not straight, they’ve been twisted around the arrow shaft in some form of spiral.”
“And is that good?” Jisung asked, not familiar at all with fletching, feathers or anything that related to archery.
“Depends what you’re looking for. This one is excellent for accuracy but it’s a bit slower than straight feathers. But we don’t sell it here.”
Jisung put the feather back in his pocket, unsuccessful in his search. What was the point of learning aerodynamics and feather shapes if he still didn’t find the one he had to kill?
“You should try at “The Archer’s treasure”. It’s our concurrent and they’re a bit far away from here, but they’re the only one in Seoul to have this kind of feathers so you might find what you’re looking for,” he smiled at Jisung who reciprocated a small smile, heading straight for the subway.
He ate two kimbaps as he rode the busy fourth line to the other archery shop, knowing he would arrive barely five minutes before they closed. He rushed out the train station and paced in the streets before finally seeing the neon name of the shop, shining a green light over the few students going to their private studies in the neighbourhood.
Right on time, Jisung arrived five minutes before the closing hours as he had correctly calculated. He ignored the sellers’ bothered looks as soon as he entered, but to his defense, he knew he would not take long. He directly searched for the feathers, not finding them as easily as he thought he would in a way bigger shop than he expected.
“May I help you with something?” a seller approached Jisung quite quickly in hopes of making him leave before their closing time.
“Where are the feathers?” he asked as the seller immediately brought him to the second room of the shop where dozens of feathers were exposed.
“Are you looking for a specific type?”
“I’m precisely looking for this,” he showed the feather for the second time that day, still not liking being separated from the only object that could connect him to his enemy.
Once again, the seller took it in their hands, observing it thoroughly before giving it back to an annoyed Jisung.
“I’m sorry, we do make this kind of helical feathers, but this is not one of our models. Also, the design looks made by hand, so it’s surely not from here,” he explained quickly as other sellers stared at them, already turning off the lights in the other room.
“So, you don’t know who could’ve made this?” Jisung asked a somewhat desperate question, not expecting anything from the seller who shook his head no, having no more clues than him.
Jisung thanked them despite not having any more information than before and headed back to his apartment, disappointed to not have any interesting clues to investigate.
He wondered if he should ask Minho, his roommate being an archer himself. Don’t get him wrong, he had investigated on Minho’s case to see if he was trustworthy and not someone spying on him, or the assassin who stole his contracts.
But, once again, he was just a normal guy who happened to practice archery, and he was actually really good at it. When he had looked him up on the internet, he had found pictures of him younger, in archery competitions. He had found him cute then.
But Minho spent his days at school or work, there was no way he would be an assassin like Jisung. Maybe he should ask the older about the feather, maybe he knew another archer that used the same ones to train or compete, even if he doubted it. And yes, Minho was an archer, which meant he surely knew more than Jisung and could help him. But the problem was Jisung didn’t want to involve Minho into this business, he was better off living a normal and carefree life.
He just needed his rent and appreciated his presence when they talked for a bit, cherished Minho when he made extra food for him, loved that he somehow cared about him despite the distance Jisung forced between them. After all, Minho was Jisung’s only human connection on this Earth, and he cherished him for it, for talking to him, for making him believe he was still worth it. That he was still human.
The thought had appeared in Jisung’s mind more than once, but he didn’t want to make Minho his teammate to find a rival assassin, he didn’t want to risk the older’s life in any way. Minho had always been nice to him, he would probably try to find an answer for Jisung, unaware of the danger he could put himself into.
And then what? He would ask questions, and Jisung would be able to lie for a bit before he would ultimately compromise himself. And either Minho would be scared of him and leave, and then goodbye his rent. Or he would want to help him still, and join Jisung on his next mission to find the archer with him. Jisung would have to be responsible for Minho’s life, in case anything happened to the older, which definitely would because he was no spy or assassin like him. And then what, goodbye his rent and his roommate? No way he would expose Minho to violence, no way he would expose him to death.
No way he would ask for Minho’s help. Never.
Jisung entered the apartment late at night, the smell of cooked chicken instantly reaching his nostrils. He found Minho in the kitchen, his meal finished a while ago already, wide eyes focused on his phone screen as he watched the latest episode of his favourite anime with all the interest in the world. Yeah, Jisung would definitely leave him out of his business, he was way too innocent for this.
“Hi,” he greeted Jisung, merely glancing at him to not miss his anime, before properly looking at his outfit, unused to see him wear a shirt.
“Hi,” Jisung greeted him back, knowing his look surprised the older, but he couldn’t care less about appearance right now. He opened the fridge to grab some leftover rice, taking a peek at Minho’s screen. “That show is still not over?”
Minho stared at him for a second, puzzled, before returning to his anime, not really willing to dig into it right now because his favourite character was in too much of a delicate situation for him to care about Jisung’s outfit anymore.
“It’s the last episode.”
Jisung hummed, not paying him more attention until he noticed scratches on his left hand and forearm. It looked like he had fallen on the ground, the wound similar to a kid falling off a skateboard and scraping his skin on the asphalt.
Minho could feel Jisung’s eyes boring into his skin, suddenly uncomfortable to be seen and observed like some animal. So, he grabbed his phone and left Jisung alone in the kitchen, eager to look for the comfort of his own bedroom.
Jisung didn’t fight it and let him go, wondering what had happened to his arm. He didn’t want to inquire much, but one thing seemed off in Minho’s attitude, his avoidance. Maybe they didn’t talk much nor shared a lot about their own lives, but Minho never felt uneasy near him. Minho never left the room when he was near, for any reason.
His odd behaviour made Jisung wonder if something actually happened to him but he ultimately realized he was overthinking it. Minho probably just fell down stupidly and was too ashamed to admit it. And well, Jisung knew Minho would not tell him if anything troubled him or if he had been hurt. He just had to let him deal with it himself.
Jisung ate his leftover rice by himself, alongside a chicken breast Minho had cooked for him while cooking his own. Once again, these little gestures that warmed Jisung’s heart, that reminded him he existed in this world.
He appreciated his meal, but his mind kept going back to the target leaving the parking lot in his car. How could he follow him Friday night? There was no way he could just enter into the parking lot with his motorcycle, he would look too suspicious, nor could he just steal another car there. Maybe there were only a few cameras located in the parking lot, but they had been placed with the utmost precision. They only had one tiny blind spot, and no car ever drove there.
Also impossible for him to hide inside his target’s car, in the trunk, or take his driver’s place. The target would notice Jisung didn’t look like a fifty-year-old man with a long moustache, and he unfortunately couldn’t grow such a moustache in so little time. Plus, he didn’t know how to drive a car, and he didn’t want to. He couldn’t care less about cars, they took too much space anyways.
Why was it so complicated to figure out what to do today? Was it because his brain was more focused on finding the archer than killing his target?
He could follow the car as soon as they left the parking lot but he would be spotted at some point, and this whole mission would turn a disaster. He wanted to surprise the other assassin, and following the target’s car was surely the worst way to stay under the radar.
Maybe the archer targeted him specifically, maybe he hated the way Jisung had risen once his mentor had left, going from small contracts to winning the biggest ones in so little time, making a name for himself way faster than any other assassin out there. God knows what the archer would do to him if Jisung messed up and he got caught instead. No, he had to be careful. Extra careful.
He quickly cleaned up his plates and went to bed, pacing around in his room as he kept thinking of different ways to follow that car and still surprise the archer. But overthinking never helped him before and it didn’t help him tonight either. His mind fell into that same loophole it always fell into, one where he thought people were looking out for him, urging him to hide and run away, start anew somewhere else where people didn’t know him. But he had already fled last year, and his feet couldn’t already be dragged back to the starting line in so little time.
He curled up underneath his blanket, letting himself be soothed by the weight and warmth progressively surrounding his body. The thoughts weren’t that loud usually, and he couldn’t let them be. He needed to act tomorrow, he needed to find a way, but that feather on his bedside table kept mocking him, the red and white dot a constant reminder of his failure.
He wanted to sleep, to drown his mind in some acid and finally silence his thoughts, but he just stayed frozen, quietly hugging his pillow for support.
Sometimes he wondered if his job was the right one, if the right path had found him, until he remembered he never had a choice to begin with. His tied feet had been dragging him onto this dark and lifeless road, his uncle and mentor had promised him fortune but at what cost? Looking for money, Jisung had only found despair, and now he hated it more than anything.
Sometimes he wished he had someone to talk to, someone to share his pain and fears, but he had forsaken everyone. A wish to protect his family, to be forgotten by his friends. They probably thought he was dead right now, might as well be. He had pushed everyone away and now he was alone, biting into his pillow to not let the sobs overcome him.
Maybe one day he would finally end up liking this life, finally find meaning in taking the lives of those he deemed unworthy. Sharing his apartment had anchored him back into real life, comparing himself directly to Minho who had a regular routine, who had dreams, and ambitions, and hardships. Someone about his age who he could relate to, even if the contrary would never be possible. If his youth hadn’t been stolen, maybe he could’ve been like everyone his age. His hands trembling from writing essays and essays on his computer, not holding a gun and shooting through people’s heart, ripping apart his soul a bit more every time he pressed the trigger.
A part of him wished to be exactly like Minho, then he could share details about his life and build a real human connection, not risking to lose his roommate in case anything happened. Jisung didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want people he cared about to die by his actions. Isolation was the solution, and some nights, that meant crying himself to exhaustion.
The next morning, Jisung unsurprisingly woke up with puffy eyes, still engulfed in his blanket, mind blank and heart as heavy as the night before. Worse, he still didn’t have any clue on how he would follow that damn car. He stayed in his bed, gazing at the void in front of him as he slowly found his way back from his sleepy state.
The sunrays entered the room, highlighting the mess laying around on the floor. He observed it, powerless, not having any strength to clean it even if he desperately needed to. And amidst the clothes, his eyes were attracted by a piece of metal shining underneath his desk, illuminated by the sunrays.
He dragged his body there, keeping the blanket over his back as he sat on the floor and his fingers reached for the piece of metal. He hurt his index trying to grab the object but still pulled it out, the green resin reflecting the sunlight and blinding him.
He stared at the printed circuit board in his hand, its green colour reminding him that he used to program different electronic devices to help his missions in the early days with his uncle. This board still had the transformers and resistors attached to it. Jisung was almost in awe of his old self, until he remembered what he had used this for: tracking a vehicle.
There it was, the miracle solution that would save his mission.
He quickly plugged the card into his computer, checking if it still worked and modifying the program to make it send signals onto his new phone. He hadn’t lost too much skills in four years, so it went by surprisingly quickly. It made Jisung a bit proud of himself, for once.
He dragged his body out of the blanket, once again dressing himself in a white shirt to blend into the busy crowd of the finance centre. No matter if he knew he would only spend half an hour there, he couldn’t risk anything.
Bag empty but for the tracker waiting to be used and the green board ready to be installed, he entered the crowded finance centre for the second time that week, heading straight to the parking lot, still ignoring the security guards, too focused on some important CEOs entering the building before him.
He rushed down the metal stairs and walked through the parking lot in search of the Jaguar, in vain. His doubts turned out to be real, the driver only came to pick his target up. He didn’t park the car carefreely for hours.
Echoing noises brought Jisung’s attention back to the staircase, his target walking down with the same two bodyguards as yesterday. He hid behind a pole, thinking hard on a solution to attach the tracker to the car.
Lights came towards him, lighting up his body progressively as a car was coming down towards the parking lot. He crossed the road and hid behind another wall, right next to the gate where the barrier blocked the way for any car willing to enter. There was his shot.
He would only have a few seconds to secure the tracker underneath the car, making sure to not be seen at the same time. He could already recognize the car’s model and plate, same as yesterday. And when he caught a quick glimpse of the driver’s lustrous moustache, he grasped the tracker from the bag, there was no doubt possible.
The driver slowly stopped the car next to the barrier, accustomed to the logistics of the parking, entering and leaving it twice each day. So, he didn’t pay too much attention to his surroundings, pressing the access button and waiting for the ticket to be printed, the procedure taking too long as always.
It made Jisung’s operation easier as he rushed to the vehicle, crawling behind it to not be caught by the rear-side mirrors, careful to not be detected by the car’s parking assistance sensors. Not caring once about soiling his shirt, he lied down underneath the car and crawled until he reached the middle of the floor. He quickly grabbed a few zip ties, attaching and securing the tracker on the car’s different pipes.
He turned it on but didn’t have time to check if the tracker worked that he heard the barrier lifting up and the car’s breaks squeaking as they loosened. Keeping his arms alongside his body as the car moved forward, he rolled to the side to hide back behind the pole as soon as he could.
He observed as the target entered the Jaguar, watched over by his bodyguards, the driver waiting patiently for him to close the door. None of them aware of the tracker hidden underneath the vehicle. Jisung tried to calm his breathing, to be as quiet as possible, but he had to take a few steps forwards to connect his phone to the tracker.
Crouching down, he tried to extend his arm but his phone couldn’t even scan the tracker. He had to get closer to connect the two devices and enter the tracker’s IP address into his app. So, he hid behind another pole, crouching but still walking as fast as he could because he saw the bodyguard closing the car door and it was now only a matter of seconds before the car would leave.
His phone scanned for long excruciating seconds before finally recognizing the tracker. He quickly opened the app and entered the IP address, the car engine starting up and heading towards the exit. He could see that blue circle charging on the screen, come on, why did it have to be so long? Being underground really messed up the network that easily?
He ran towards the car, hiding behind parked cars to still receive the tracker’s connecting signal. The car was leaving when it finally connected, and Jisung sat on the floor, sighing of relief, happiness filling him as he could see the car’s dot moving onto his screen map.
But happiness only lasted a second, because when he turned his head around, the bodyguards had moved closer to him, alerted by the sound of his footsteps. They closed up on him and Jisung held his breath, a Mercedes the last rampart between him and the bodyguards. They looked around but ultimately didn’t find anything and so they left by the staircase, as usual, and Jisung breathed again, sitting still in the parking lot for a few more seconds.
He stared at the dot moving away from the finance centre and forced himself back onto his feet, quickly leaving the parking lot by the cars’ exit to rejoice the streets. He walked a few blocks before finding his motorcycle, parked far enough to not be suspected.
Engine roaring, he followed the dot at a safe distance, out of sight from the driver, relying entirely on his tracker. He hoped he hadn’t messed up anything in the programming, because he had been driving for more than an hour now and the sun had set when the dot stopped moving. The lively streets had turned quiet and dim, the few streetlights in the rich neighbourhood didn’t help much to see anything apart from the high gates and the tall trees behind them, both signs of wealth and luxury Jisung once wished to attain someday. And now despised.
He never found the car, hidden behind a black luxurious metallic gate, as his target was surely walking back inside his house, not knowing he was followed. Jisung parked his motorcycle a few streets away, took his helmet off and explored the neighbourhood. There didn’t seem to be any cameras there, except on the target’s street. Perched high up, they didn’t leave room for any blind spot. Jisung was grateful it had started raining, the raindrops acted as a blurring effect on the camera lenses.
He couldn’t climb the gates nor the walls to spy his target’s house, and there was no other way to enter the property. No secret gateway, no underground tunnel or whatever the man might have built. So, Jisung just hid in a nearby street, observing the rare cars passing by, noting down the neighbourhood’s dead activity. But it soon turned out to be four in the morning, and everybody was sleeping in town but him. And he still had an hour-long journey back to his apartment…
So, he left, knowing he wouldn’t dare attacking his target here, knowing the archer would surely avoid the exposure in the street as well. Friday it was then. Only two more days to wait.
He took great care to not have an accident on the road, the pouring rain making it difficult to ride a motorcycle and not slip. But he went home safely, and as usually, he unlocked the door as slowly as possible, and made as less noise as possible to not wake Minho up. The older worked too hard, he deserved those last peaceful minutes of sleep.
Jisung was once again coming back when dawn started to peak in the sky. This rhythm exhausted him, and even if he was young, it had started to take a toll on him. He should not be this tired at 24 years old… He shouldn’t be.
He spread out his dripping jacket and wet shirt onto the kitchen chairs, leaving one free for Minho to sit and eat later this morning. And on the counter, he noticed a glass container with a note taped on the lid:
For Jisung
Once again, Minho had cooked more food for him. Once again, he had taken time and energy for Jisung even though the younger never reciprocated it. Once again, he had not cared that the money he hardly worked for to buy his own food ended up in Jisung’s stomach.
Jisung was so tired he could have almost cried from the sight of this fried rice, but the tears just wouldn’t come, he had cried too much yesterday already. Minho was too nice to him, definitely. Jisung had grown fond of his roommate, too fond for someone who couldn’t get close to anyone, no matter how much his heart desired it.
His gratitude was interrupted by a loud noise coming from the bathroom, similar to a plastic object falling onto the ceramic tiles. His curiosity piqued, Jisung walked towards the sound, confounded that Minho was already awake. He still had thirty minutes of sleep… What was he even doing?
The faint light coming from the half-opened door gently lit up Jisung’s path through the hallway, the younger hesitating whether he should take a peek inside or respect Minho’s privacy once in front of the bathroom door.
“Fuck…” he heard Minho whisper inside the room, and curiosity got the best of Jisung. As usual.
He stood in the doorway and observed Minho as he held a makeup brush in one hand, a plastic bottle of foundation in the other. But he always seemed barefaced in front of Jisung… The younger didn’t understand why he was applying makeup until he noticed the large greenish bruise forming on his cheekbone.
Minho seemed tense, desperate to cover it up, and his hyper awareness alerted him of Jisung’s presence in the hallway. He turned his head to face Jisung, the younger shocked of his appearance. More than the bruise, he also had dark circles under his eyes and his bottom lip had been cut open, possibly from a blow. Surely from a blow.
Jisung had learned, for years, to recognize a punch. He had received many, distributed just as many. He recognized them from a fall, any time.
First, the scratches on his hand and forearm, still visible as Minho was only wearing a t-shirt, not covering any of his wounds. Now, a bruise and his lip cut open, something was definitely going on in Minho’s life. But would he ever tell him?
Judging by Minho’s embarrassed state upon Jisung staring at him, he would rather avoid any form of conversation right now. He only wished to hide, but Jisung was in the doorway, standing before the only exit to rejoice the safety of his bedroom. Unfortunately.
“Minho? What happened?” Jisung dared to ask, but Minho only grabbed every makeup tool he had placed on the sink and headed towards his room, avoiding Jisung in his way and staring at the ground.
“Nothing.”
“Do you need help–”
Minho closed his bedroom door before Jisung could finish his sentence, heartbroken at the sight of his roommate hurt. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it. At all.
Maybe they didn’t share much, their schedules never allowing them to spend too much time together and Jisung keeping a safe distance with the older to not bring any danger upon him, but Jisung had grown fond of Minho in those past few months.
In some way, Minho took care of him, cooking was one of those small signs of affections he usually displayed. And Jisung didn’t know why he did it, if it just showed who he was as a person, or if he specifically prepared more food for Jisung because he knew he always ordered takeaway thanks to his ridiculous erratic schedule. And well, Jisung also couldn’t cook even if his life depended on it but Minho didn’t need to know that.
Even tonight Minho had cooked for him, and an acute pain struck Jisung’s heart. Was Minho already hurt when he prepared his meal? Did it happen in the night? What was he even doing out this night?
Minho had never shown any sign of aggressiveness or animosity, he didn’t seem to have any enemies nor problems, so why was he hurting now? Did someone do this to him? Was he beaten up? Bullied?
Jisung couldn’t accept anyone threatening Minho, he couldn’t accept anyone speaking ill of him, he couldn’t accept anyone laying their hands upon him. He never deserved any of this violence. It angered Jisung so much, and he suddenly wanted to protect him with his entire being. The one who took care of him, how about returning the favour?
After all, that’s one of the only meanings Jisung had found in his job. He could bring a sense of justice back into this world, at least apply his own justice. Help those he deemed weak, and stop those who took advantage of their power. And if he protected random strangers, then he had to protect his roommate, right?
Somehow, he wished Minho would confess to him, explain what had happened, detail what was wrong, so he could help him and take care of his wounds. He knew how to heal them properly, he had had his fair share of experiences, trust him. But it would never happen, he knew it. Maybe if he hadn’t put up that rampart between them, then Minho would have trusted him enough to share his pain. Maybe.
But Jisung just had to accept he would never be that person to Minho, even though he wished he could be. Minho had unknowingly done so much for Jisung, helping him stay alive, stay human and find grounding amidst the corpses lying in his trail. He wasn’t just a rent, he had been a silent friend to Jisung. Even if the contrary wasn’t true.
But he would try to repay Minho’s kindness because he deserved his help, and he didn’t deserve whatever hatred acts someone had decided to force upon him. Honestly, Jisung just hoped Minho had someone he could share his pain with.
He never knew beforehand and he discovered this truth about himself that night. Jisung couldn’t bear to see Minho hurt, it crushed his body and soul.
Minho’s embarrassment, his fear of being judged and shame of speaking up and sharing his problems. Jisung never wanted to be the kind of person people didn’t trust. People you’d never share your secrets with, people you’d never let look over your cat, people who judged instead of listening. He always hoped he could be reliable, trustworthy, comforting. But he had built this for himself, those high thorny walls that rejected everyone. Should he let Minho in? Should he risk his safety? And at the same time, didn’t Minho need it right now? Need him right now?
Jisung didn’t go back to sleep that night. He just laid in bed for a bit, attentively listening, waiting for Minho to ruffle around the apartment, prepare his usual coffee, hide the fact that he was probably going through hell right now.
And when he heard the coffee machine running, Jisung got up as well, dressing up in the simplest hoodie and jeans he could find. He grabbed a cap and left his bedroom only when Minho closed the front door, tackling on his day at university.
Jisung didn’t pour himself some freshly-brewed coffee this time, he just put his shoes on and followed after Minho, determined to find out what was going on in his life. He knew stalking was probably not the best option out there, especially if Minho were ever to hear about it. But he had already spied on him when he moved into his apartment. This time, it was but a mere attempt to understand and protect him. Ethical or not, morally right or not, he needed to know because Minho wouldn’t tell him anyways.
He still remembered the way to Minho’s university, the older hadn’t changed route ever since his first day of school in September. Despite the rain, Jisung followed him, keeping a safe distance between them to not alert the older.
He checked the surroundings every time he changed streets, observed every human Minho had a small interaction with, were it the woman standing next to him as he crossed an intersection, the man who shoved him a bit as he was running to catch up his bus or the boy that cut in on him with his scooter, forcing the older to a full spot to not collide and stressing him out about spilling coffee onto his grey sweater.
Everything became a threat, everyone turned out to be a menace. Jisung tried to decipher everyone’s faces, tried to see if Minho knew them, if they showed any sign of hostility towards him. But that was just not the case. Like Minho, they were all busy living their lives, avoiding the rain and drinking their too-hot coffee to survive through another day.
Jisung should’ve known his hoodie would get drenched, after being out all night under the rain, but well, his lack of sleep pretty much stopped the neurons in his brain from working. It didn’t stop them from being angry at Minho from wearing those stupid converses though.
He could see his feet were already drenched, and they would stay that way all day long. Was he stupid? Didn’t he know he would get sick if his feet remained wet and cold? Well… Nothing he could do about it anyways.
Jisung entered the campus like he belonged there, all the students rushing to their classes and not caring about him for a thing in the world. He expected Minho to greet friends, to encounter people he knew, but he instantly went to class and Jisung stopped following him when he entered the classroom, still making sure no one had followed the older in there. But Minho’s attitude hadn’t changed when he crossed the university’s gates, he didn’t seem warier or more stressed to walk among the swarming crowd of students. He seemed as normal as always.
Jisung waited outside the classroom, he had three hours to spare but his body only screamed for sleep. He fought against his needs, trying to keep his brain busy with the mission tomorrow night and prepare a strategy. He didn’t know where the meeting would be, apart from the fact that they would be next to the river. West, East? He didn’t know.
Rivers meant bridges and banks, wild grass to hide and peaceful wind to carry away the sound of bullets. He hoped it wouldn’t rain as hard as today, he didn’t want his clothes to be dirty and risking his motorcycle slipping on the road. Fuck, he had to put some gas in it, once again money he dreaded to spend.
He didn’t even know if the archer would come, if he would face them, if he would win the contract this time. Ah, he wanted the money, but maybe not as much as catching that bastard.
He spent three hours occupying his brain and drowning in his stressful yet revengeful thoughts, hiding behind the wall until Minho left the classroom again, merging with all the other students. He spotted him through the crowd, following his long black hair that contrasted with the white walls of the hallway.
It had stopped raining outside when they found the fresh air again, Minho yawning as he sat on a bench near his class building, taking his now useless sweater to wipe off the water to sit on it.
In the shadows of a few trees, Jisung sat on a bench nearby, observing the older as he took out his usual lunchbox and chopsticks, eating his kimbaps by himself, gazing at the void and silently appreciating his food. Jisung waited for his friends to show up, but when ten minutes had passed and nobody had come to sit near him, he understood Minho would eat alone today. Probably like all the other days.
He hadn’t interacted with anyone ever since he crossed the gates. He hadn’t waved nor smiled at anyone. It almost seemed as if he didn’t know any student in his class or the entire university. It shouldn’t have, but it hurt Jisung to see Minho visibly lonely.
He regretted not eating with him at the apartment when his schedule allowed it, regretted not trying to cook back for all the times Minho took care of his meals and coffees, regretted half-waving to him in the morning. If he had known Minho spent all his days in this kind of loneliness, he would’ve been gentler.
His coffee cup and its’ cat stickers moved Jisung, a witness of Minho’s cute personality waiting to be discovered by an entire campus who didn’t care about him for some unknown reason Jisung couldn’t fathom. Minho just ate his kimbaps and stared at his phone, waiting for time to pass and his class to start again. Barely living in a world that didn’t care about him.
Jisung wanted to join the older, find an excuse to meet him there and share his loneliness, but he couldn’t risk anything. He was playing with Minho’s life getting close to him, and he would never forgive himself if something were to happen to the older.
So, he kept following, and hiding, and soothing his hurting heart at the sad glimpse in Minho’s life. But his loneliness didn’t explain the wounds on his forearm, didn’t explain the carefully hidden bruise on his face. His makeup stayed on despite the rain, despite the long day passing by, despite his archery training later on.
Minho trained diligently, aiming just as precisely as the first time Jisung had spied on him. The other archers didn’t even compete with him, their levels couldn’t be compared. And Minho should be competing, but Jisung guessed he probably didn’t have the time nor the resources to go to competitions right now, no matter if he did when he was a child. The way he focused, breathing out until his core stabilized, pulling onto the string until it reached the tip of his nose, gently brushing over his lips, unravelling his sharp jawline for the world to see. A perfect posture from which Jisung couldn’t take his eyes off. Dedication was attractive, talent as well.
Looking away from Minho distracting him, Jisung resisted asking anyone around about the archer’s red and white feathers, if any of them knew an archer using those. He checked everyone’s material, but their arrows didn’t have the same shape nor design. They probably were expensive, and they were just broke students.
Still no greeting from the archers to Minho, Jisung deducted he hadn’t even said a word in the day. Fuck, he had to force himself to speak to Minho, he couldn’t let him become silent for all his life, bottling everything up until other wounds appeared on his body and ultimately scarred his mind, because then Minho wouldn’t be able to stop the pain from rotting in his heart.
Later at night, Jisung observed Minho at the barbecue place he worked part-time, seeing him smile to customers bringing but sorrow to Jisung’s heart. He talked, interacted and laughed with people, but he could see it was just a façade, one the older had forged to be able to work and hold on. But the sigh Minho let out when he headed home after his long day couldn’t fool Jisung. He recognized fake expressions more than anyone in this city.
He followed him in the dim streets for as long as he could, remaining hidden despite the streetlights shining upon him every ten meters. And when he made sure Minho wouldn’t meet anyone else on the road, he rushed to the apartment to be there before him.
He carefully hid his wet shoes into his bedroom, and ran back to the kitchen, opening every drawer to spontaneously decide on something to cook. Bad idea. Jisung wasn’t what you would call a cook, but rather a culinary artist, someone who experimented and constantly tried new flavour associations. To put it simply, he was a disaster. But he wanted to repay Minho his kindness and attentions, he needed to. He looked at the time, Minho would be here in merely five minutes. Argh, Jisung should have run faster…
When Minho opened the door, his nostrils were met with a strange smell, one he wasn’t accustomed to whenever he entered the apartment. Jisung was… cooking?
Shocked, he took off his shoes, his socks still drenched as he walked to the kitchen, finding Jisung carefully setting up a table with two bowls of instant noodles. He did his best, alright?
He smiled at Minho, waving at the stunned older before staring at his wet feet disapprovingly. He was so going to get sick.
“What are you doing?” Minho asked, confused because first, they never ate together, second Jisung was there before him this time, and third he was not dressed in a shirt anymore like the past few days. Minho really couldn’t understand what was going on in his life or what company he worked for.
“I wanted to eat with you,” Jisung simply said as he placed chopsticks on the table, looking back at Minho who still hadn’t moved. “You’re not hungry?”
He tried to keep his tone light and calm, but he knew Minho was confused, he knew they had never even tried to eat together before. He knew it came out of the blue, unprecedented, but he hoped it was not unwanted and rejected.
“I am, I am,” Minho replied softly in a yawn, walking towards the table to join Jisung.
“Your feet are wet,” Jisung couldn’t resist pointing out, noticing the wet patches Minho left everywhere he walked.
“Yeah, it rained a lot today,” Minho explained as he placed his lunchbox in the sink to wash later.
He sat down at the table, contemplating the meal offered to his hungry stomach. Jisung had never cooked for him, and even if it was a very simple meal, it somehow warmed his heart a bit. He smiled at Jisung, not because he had been craving noodles all day long, but because the younger had thought about him. All those small gestures he did for Jisung, he never expected him to return the favour, Minho just did it because it made him happy, because he was grateful to have Jisung as a roommate, someone accepting that didn’t judge nor restrain him, someone who made him feel seen and less alone in this world.
Maybe he wished they would be closer, that he could find a friend in a roommate, but he understood Jisung had boundaries, and he didn’t want to cross them. So, Minho didn’t push further than he was allowed, and to now face Jisung who had cooked for him, to spend some time with the older and appreciate him. The gesture already mattered more to Minho than the result. Honestly, he could eat instant noodles all day long if they were made by Jisung.
The younger joined Minho at the table, watching him in silence, waiting for the older to take the first bite. And so, Minho obliged, tasting what ultimately resembled a soup that needed a lot of seasoning rather than noodles. But he kept silent and ate it without ever showing anything on his face. Still, he grinned when Jisung finally tasted it.
“Oh my god,” he sounded shocked, staring with wide eyes at Minho who kept eating this hot pasta-seasoned water.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, his heart sinking because the one time he wanted to please Minho, he messed everything up. “I can’t cook for my life…”
“You just forgot the salt, it’s fine,” Minho kept being kind, and Jisung didn’t know if his heart could take his gentleness anymore. He didn’t deserve it.
“At least, you didn’t forget the noodles,” Minho teased him again.
“Oh, shut up, I’m sorry okay? I didn’t have a lot of time and I didn’t want you to wait at all because it’s been a long day and it’s late, and I forgot they wrote down instructions on the package and I had already thrown it away when I remembered and–”
His rant was interrupted by Minho’s chuckles, fascinated by his explanations, still eating the noodles despite everything. It made Jisung’s heart warm up, knowing he was the reason Minho smiled today. It probably was the first time he heard him laugh, but he swore to himself it wouldn’t be the last.
“Anyways… how was your day?” Jisung asked a general question, not sure on how to talk to someone he had lived with for two months but never really shared anything with. They ignored each other’s life, relations, passions, but Jisung knew the name of Minho’s favourite anime and favourite fictional character. And Jisung knew Minho didn’t look at the weather before going out, nor did he wash the coffee machine after using it, despite always making some more for Jisung.
They shared a form of intimacy, living in the same place and eating from the same fridge, and yet, ask Minho what time Jisung left for work, and he wouldn’t be able to answer you. Faced with Jisung’s high protective walls again. Trying to climb but picking his fingers on the thorns covering it.
“Good,” Minho answered without much more details, Jisung not needing anymore because he ultimately had spent the entire day with him. Somehow, he had asked out of curiosity, to see if Minho would ever confess anything. He had dreamed this one…
“You?” Minho asked back, staring at Jisung who figured a lie in less than a second, unfortunately too used to this masquerade.
“Could’ve been better. It felt long,” he didn’t go into details either, and Minho didn’t ask for more. Both respecting each other’s boundaries, both desiring to cross them.
And in the silence, Jisung stared at Minho’s face, at the covered-up bruise as his make-up had started to fade a bit, and the greenish colour could be seen again. It seemed smaller this morning, it had probably worsened during the day. He tried to look at Minho’s eyes but his bangs hid them, too focused on eating the noodles and ignoring Jisung’s stare boring into his skin.
He wanted to ask, badly, and he knew he risked Minho leaving the table and ruining the beautiful moment he had created with him. But his eyes fell upon the cut on Minho’s lips, and he couldn’t ignore the numerous scratches on his forearm. Someone had done something to him, and he needed a name. Just to talk, you know.
“So, uh… what happened to your face?” he started, walking on thin ice as Minho sighed, a part of him knowing this whole meal was just a subterfuge leading to an interrogatory. Another part of him deceived and disappointed, hurt to only be shown affection in exchange for information.
“Nothing.”
“What about your arm? Your hand? Your lip?” Jisung kept asking, feeling in his bones he was annoying Minho, but he needed answers. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just worried.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Minho shut him up, eating faster to leave sooner this kitchen that had turned into a hostile environment. Loneliness had creeped back in his heart again. So soon.
“Minho… You can talk to me. I won’t judge you or anything.”
How could he even get the older to open up? How could he help him if he refused? Could Jisung just let him endure pain even if it was his own decision? Would his morals allow him?
“I just fell, it’s nothing.”
“Yeah, right,” Jisung had stopped eating a while ago, only staring at the man lying in front of him, trying to pierce his secrets. And Minho knew it, he could feel the lump growing in his throat, uncomfortable under the younger’s gaze.
Despite his straightforward and blunt attitude, if Jisung could hug Minho right now, he would. But instead he just got up and went to his bedroom, leaving Minho to ponder by himself at the table, finishing the badly seasoned water reluctantly.
When Jisung came back a minute later, he placed a bottle of lotion in front of Minho, an ointment he himself used to take care of his wounds after missions. It helped with the pain and accelerated the healing process.
“That’ll make it go faster,” he just said as he resumed his meal in front of Minho who remained silent and avoidant, eyeing the cream before leaving to his bedroom, definitely not taking the bottle with him.
Jisung wondered what he did wrong. He really did. But he couldn’t find any logical reason despite thinking and overthinking his actions and words. Minho’s mind seemed like a maze, unable to decode, unable to escape once inside. But Jisung wanted to try, he already had one foot in his mind, now time for the second one. It was now or never, might as well clear the air.
He walked towards the bathroom, the door still open as Minho had barely entered the room to wash up.
“Why are you like this?” Jisung softened his voice as he put the lotion back in Minho’s hand, the older taking it reluctantly.
“It’s worrying you know,” he kept speaking to fill up the silence Minho refused to break. “Imagine if I came back with scratches and bruises. You’d ask the same questions.”
Minho shrugged his shoulders, knowing Jisung was right, still refusing to elaborate. Instead, he wiped off the foundation, fully exposing his green bruise to Jisung who didn’t keep his stares a secret. But Minho accepted it, if he couldn’t speak of what happened, he could tolerate Jisung in his space.
Jisung observed his face thoroughly, Minho staying still to allow him. The bruise didn’t seem too deep, it would heal quickly. He grabbed the lotion Minho had put back on the sink and poured some onto his own fingers, Minho too slow to catch Jisung’s hand before it reached his face.
The contact made him shiver, Jisung applying the ointment delicately onto his skin, careful to not hurt the older even slightly. None of them had ever shared such an intimate moment, Jisung had never taken care of anyone but him, and Minho had never been taken care of before.
He froze, not knowing how to react apart from watching Jisung through the mirror with wide eyes, watching the younger’s focused face as he bit his own lips to massage and penetrate the ointment as deeply as possible into Minho’s skin. Their faces were close, too close.
And for a second, they stared at each other’s lips, a doubt, a thought, an envy lingering in the air. The desire to feel the other’s lips on their own, the desire to taste and kiss the man in front of them. Two lone souls who seeked connection, close to finding it together and yet, scared to turn their dream into reality. It was Minho’s gentleness that had made Jisung progressively like him, and perhaps these thoughts of friendship or comfort he found in Minho, perhaps they turned out to be more intense than he had planned. Love, another big word Jisung was afraid of.
Both unaware their bodies had leaned towards each other, their lips were closer than ever and yet, none of them acted upon it. Jisung shied away too quickly when he felt the older’s breath on his lips, leaving Minho alone in the bathroom to clean up.
He didn’t know what to do so he rationalized his feelings to not feel the regret swarming up his heart as soon as he left Minho’s warmth. Because after all, Jisung couldn’t attach himself to people. That only ever brought harm to him, and others. So, he went back to his room and waited until Minho finished with the shower, washing himself right after. And then he crawled into his bed, and despite the exhaustion, he couldn’t fall asleep before dawn. His mind racing, thinking about the mission, thinking about Minho. Grieving about love and everything he could never have.
Jisung hated himself the next morning, waking up just in time to hear Minho close the apartment’s door, ready for another day, ready to face alone whoever had caused those wounds. And Jisung wouldn’t be there to help him through it, wouldn’t be there to investigate again, wouldn’t be able to protect him if need be.
The day went by excruciatingly slow, Jisung alternating between finishing up his plan and thinking about Minho. Sometimes he convinced himself he could dedicate a few hours in the afternoon to the older, visiting him at the restaurant where he worked on Saturdays, still thinking he could save him. But his plan needed final touches and he couldn’t let this occasion slip. Either he earned money or caught the archer tonight, and unfortunately Minho had to wait. No matter how much it broke the younger’s heart.
Once the sun started to set in the sky, Jisung prepared his mission bag, packing up his gun and bullets, two knives and his balaclava. He dressed himself up in his usual black outfit, the one that would hide him in this cloudy night.
He looked at the tracker one more time as he laced his shoes, the dot not moving away from the target’s house. His first destination was set. He took one last glance at the apartment, looking at the small package on the table with pride and guilt. He truly hoped the few cookies he had bought from the nearby bakery would bring joy to Minho, compared to last night’s failure. He thought he would be better off buying than doing them, or well failing at making them.
He hoped it would make Minho happy, for a bit at least.
Reaching his motorcycle in the underground parking, he could feel his heart tightening. For the first time in his life, Jisung didn’t want to go on a mission, didn’t want to leave someone’s side. He cared about Minho, he needed to make sure he was okay tonight. For all he knew, he could come home with another bruise or some broken bone Jisung would never pierce the mystery of. Another thirst for revenge Jisung would need to satisfy.
He sat on the bike, helmet on, engine gently purring and ready to go, but he hesitated. How could he suddenly devote so much of his heart to his roommate? Yes, Minho’s visible pain and violent silence reminded Jisung of himself, of needing someone to hold him tightly through the night and yet not having the confidence to speak up, nor the bravery or the assurance that he wouldn’t be pushed away again, that he wouldn’t end up alone again.
Last night, he just wanted to hug Minho, to reassure him and tell him everything would be alright. And selfishly, he wanted the older to do the same, to say what no one had ever told him, to allow Jisung to be weak and dependent, because he had stopped being this scared and needing man a long time ago.
Ever since he was seventeen, Jisung had felt a missing piece in his heart, ever since his life had been taken away from him by his super cool uncle. Showing him his business, making a lot of money fast if he helped him in his coups. And where did that leave Jisung? To crave human connection because his uncle had died and left him alone, cutting ties and moving out of town for fear of putting his family in danger after making so many enemies.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spent time with him talking about the weather or the last football game. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to touch someone and not kill them after. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown genuine interest and cared about him. Minho was the only one he could think of. His missing piece.
To love and be loved, what every human craved deep in their soul.
If only the world didn’t revolve around money, if only the archer hadn’t stolen his contracts for the past few months. He’d have stayed next to Minho.
Tomorrow he would help him, he promised himself. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow and its endless promises.
And so, his motorcycle hastened through the city, not having a minute to spare. Jisung needed to reach the target’s house before the car left, just to make sure he was inside, just to make sure he wouldn’t lose his chance tonight.
Soon, that familiar street appeared in front of Jisung, those high gates once again mocking him, protecting houses he knew he could never afford, reminding him of his condition. He never had the luxury of growing in a nurturing home, nor did he have any kind of financial support throughout his life. He wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he knew he could never be like all those wealthy men, part of him didn’t want to. Part of him wanted to kill them instead.
He stayed glued to his phone, staring at the blue dot on the screen, not blinking in case it moved. And after waiting three hours hidden in a nearby street, he heard a metallic squeak pierce the silent night. A gate opening, the dot was moving.
He took a peek into the street, allowed barely a second to perceive his target through the car’s windows. Now certain he was going to the meeting point in the tracked car, Jisung followed them, keeping a close distance to not lose his target and yet staying far away enough to not be spotted.
The journey took more than an hour, first illuminated by the high office buildings and the perfume ads disposed every twenty meters on the road, and then lost in complete darkness but for the faint haze coming from the city miles away.
They went up the river, following it for more than ten miles, before finally crossing it, far away from any civilization, from any human eye and witness, from any form of law. Arrangements made in the secret of the night, whispers exchanged between criminals, frogs minding their own business, the world still turning with evil freely roaming around.
The target’s car went down the river banks, stopping in front of another car, just as classy. Jisung stopped on top of the banks, higher than them to observe their immoral deal and the river surroundings.
The bridge a few meters away was a perfect spot for an archer, and yet, no one was hiding there, nor in the shadows of the woods. Jisung checked twice. And he kept checking, in fear, in need. Making money from killing that bastard appealed him, but ruling his enemy out of his life appealed him more.
But he didn’t have a lot of time, and the archer didn’t show any sign of life, so he started thinking about money, started seeing himself surrounded by it. Just how much could he do with twenty million won right now?
Keep paying off his loan, not stressing too much about losing the next contract to the archer, being safe for the next few months, having time for himself. For Minho. Buying the older a nice meal, spending time watching his favourite shows and discussing them, brewing coffee together in the morning. A dream depiction of a normal life. He could picture himself there.
Hidden by the night, Jisung quietly equipped his gun and laid down in the tall grass, stretching his arms to shoot as the two men were now shaking hands, both smiling too much considering the morality of their deeds.
But he focused too much on his visor, controlled his breath too intensely, totally forgot his surroundings. He never heard the motorcycle that discreetly parked on top of the bridge, he never saw the ebony bow glistening in the night, the hand pulling the string strong and stable.
But he did see the arrow lodging itself in the target’s head. White and red dots mocking him yet another time.
The guards instantly surrounded the fallen body, pointing their guns to the void when the other businessman left in a rush, the car’s tires hissing in the night. Jisung barely had time to turn his head around that the archer had already reached their motorcycle, roaring the engine to leave.
He didn’t waste any time and rushed after them, starting his own motorcycle despite the bodyguards spotting him and shooting in his direction.
Once again Jisung had hoped, and once again Jisung had lost. It filled him up with so much rage, he didn’t care if he risked his life to catch the archer because he had enough of them. He knew they were followed, he knew the target’s bodyguards wanted revenge. But he couldn’t care less because he was getting closer and closer to that shining bow, carried on the archer’s back as one would carry a backpack.
But the archer accelerated, noticing his presence. Jisung kept up with his pace, speeding through the peaceful sleeping villages, disrupting the night’s silence. One could only hear the rumbling of their engines, tires screeching every time they took a turn, none of them giving up on the other.
So, Jisung reached out to grab his gun, aiming at the archer’s tire. He shot and failed, again and again. Impossible to aim precisely as the archer kept weaving on the road.
Jisung took a left turn when the archer continued straight on the road, seeing on his map the two roads connecting further away. His vision turned blurry, only able to see clearly a small portion of the landscape in front of him, focused as the high speed made any mistake lethal.
His palms were sweating in his gloves, and he didn’t dare blink in case he missed a turn or rolled over a rock and lost control of the bike. But when he finally saw the archer’s bike again, he accelerated one last time, their fatal course destined to end right here and now.
He cut the road, surprising the archer who slammed the breaks, steering right to avoid him. Fully losing control of the bike, they fell to the ground, rolling for a dozen meters as the motorcycle finished its course against a tree, completely wrecked.
Jisung stopped his own bike in the middle of the desert road, storming off with his gun in hand while the archer crawled on the ground, amidst the shattered glass and sharp metal pieces. Jisung couldn’t care less if they had been injured in the fall, if the blood on the road came from the visible cut on their arm or a worse wound. Whatever he would do to the archer would be at least ten times worse anyways.
The archer was groaning a bit in pain, his voice low enough to indicate he was a man. Maybe he was just like him, a lost kid in desperate need for guidance and reassurance. Jisung didn’t care.
He pointed the gun at his enemy, closing the distance in between them. Should he kill him already? Cold-blooded, not even a hint that his last hour had come. Should he wait? Make him suffer? Shoot his leg first and wait for his reaction, see if he had anything to confess, make him beg for mercy only to meet Jisung’s unforgiving and revengeful heart. One that only wished to get his money back and forever erase his enemy.
Instead, he stomped onto the archer’s leg, kicking him hardly as the man picked up his leg in between his arms, groaning in pain. He had been hurt there too then… Good to know.
The archer still on his stomach, Jisung was facing the bow on his back, still mocking him despite the numerous deep scratches staining the wood’s beauty. At least, he had taste.
Jisung grabbed the archer’s shoulders, turning him around as he whimpered, the blood running down his arm in a small but constant stream. Both of them had their helmets on, both of them ignored the identity of the other. The paradox of two assassins always finding themselves in the same place and yet never seeing each other. This would change tonight.
He pointed his gun at the archer’s helmet, the man putting his hands up in defense.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jisung screamed in the night, the rage speaking in his stead. But the archer never answered, he stayed still in front of him. Maybe he thought playing dead would work. But they were not a predator and a prey, they were death and an already dead man.
“Take your helmet off,” he ordered, still to no answer in front of him.
The gun reflected the faint light from the sky, the barrel facing the man who remained immobile, tempting Jisung to press the trigger. Jisung hesitated to warn him he would shoot if he didn’t take his helmet off, but the truth was he would shoot either ways. He only had one wish, witnessing the fear and regret in the archer’s eyes when he shot him dead.
Jisung never thought he would ever want to take some random man’s life so much, he changed in this matter.
“Take it off!” he screamed again, taking a few more steps to stand right over the man’s body, clothes dirty and torn from the fall.
The archer shook at Jisung’s wrath, holding his hands higher up in the air to make him wait. Jisung still aimed the gun at his helmet, carefully monitoring his slow movements to make sure he didn’t have a hidden weapon somewhere on him. After all, he was an assassin, he could also kill him at any moment.
But he reached for the helmet, undoing the security hook on his neck. He slowly took it off, the air around them suffocating. Jisung had won, he had caught the archer. His lungs had stopped working by now, his entire body focused on the face that would erupt from the helmet. He would let him live a few seconds, just enough to let him be frightened, to let him contemplate the gun and Jisung’s stance not changing, to let him understand that whatever he could do, that would never make Jisung change his mind. This breath would be his last.
It wasn’t.
“Minho?”
No, his eyes were deceiving him. It couldn’t be possible. Minho was a student, he worked a part-time job, he struggled to pay his rent. He brewed his own coffee, sometimes he danced cutely when his food tasted particularly good, he had chosen his favourite anime character based on the fact that he had a cat. Someone had left a bruise on him two days ago. He had covered it up with makeup.
But those brown eyes, big enough to cover half of his face, deep enough to plunge and get lost into for weeks, they were staring back at him, scared and confused. His long black hair shone in the night, messy and sweaty from the helmet, contrasting with his scarlet face, fearing for his life, the barrel still pointed at him.
Those pink lips, those two crooked front teeth, the mole at the tip of his nose. That bruise on his cheek, it had turned blue now.
Honestly, Jisung just wanted to puke, his whole world shattered before his eyes. Fooled by his heart, fooled by the only one who cared about him. But did Minho even really care? How could he have been so wrong?
He lowered his gun, to Minho’s surprise. Confused why the man in front of him seemingly recognized his face, afraid of what he would do to him, lost as to not being threatened by a gun anymore. But when Jisung removed his helmet and balaclava as well, his eyes grew wide. Two shattered worlds in the middle of the night.
“Jisung?”
They stared at each other for long seconds, refusing to believe the reality in front of them. Opposite sides of the same coin, destined to stay together but never face each other. Was it fate or a curse that brought them in the same apartment?
Fate, a rather funny word in their case.
Did Minho spy on him? Did he already know him before? Did he rent his apartment to torment his life? Why did he choose him? What had Jisung done to deserve this?
Yesterday, Jisung could have devoted his life for Minho. Yesterday, Jisung would have killed the archer without a doubt, hurting him at the same time for good measure.
Now, he didn’t know what to do.
He could only feel his fists clench, and Minho noticed too. He slowly crawled away, Jisung too lost in his thoughts and unravelling world to move for the first few seconds of his fleeing attempt.
Until he violently grabbed his collar, holding the older upwards towards him, arming his fist to punch him because how did he dare? How did he dare lay in front of him? How did he dare lie to him? How did he dare ruin his life and take away the one spark of hope he had found?
Minho panicked, the wrath in Jisung’s eyes enough to convince him to shield his face, enough to believe he could punch him to death. He wanted to scream, to tell Jisung to stop, but he couldn’t produce a single sound, too shocked himself to understand anything. This was a battle of instincts. He held the wrist glued to his collar, desperately trying to get Jisung off with both hands, not taking his eyes away from the fist ready to meet his face. He could see the tears forming in the younger’s eyes.
But the echo of tires screeching in the night stopped their brawl, both of their heads turning towards the village far away. The guards drove the car towards them at full speed and reaching them was but a matter of seconds now.
Jisung sprung back up to his feet, running to his motorcycle and putting his helmet back on. But Minho’s leg hurt him and he struggled to get back up, slightly limping towards his own motorcycle despite the adrenaline and the fear.
Fuck. His bike was in pieces, bent around the tree. It was actually a miracle it wasn’t burning right now, with all the oil leaking everywhere. He turned around, Jisung already starting off his bike, ready to leave.
He rushed towards him, ignoring the pain in his left ankle, knowing too well he had to leave or he would die. And if he had to risk his life, he’d rather risk it with Jisung’s hands on him than random guards.
The engine roared in the night but Minho blocked Jisung’s way, not caring if he got run over. He couldn’t see Jisung’s eyes, but he could guess the fury in them right now. And he was right. Jisung just wanted to abandon him here and there to his fate, but he couldn’t forget the past few weeks and days. He had grown fond of Minho, too fond to not even get to talk or beat him out himself, the betrayal too cruel to be abandoned to fate.
“Please Jisung…” Minho did not have the sense nor the courage to utter any more words, too scared to hurt Jisung to the point of no-return, too focused on the car’s lights approaching terrifyingly fast.
He didn’t know what convinced Jisung, the crack in his voice or his terrified eyes. But when the younger gestured him to hop behind, he was glad it did.
Jisung hated feeling Minho’s body against his, hated his legs against his hips, hated how his hands joined around his waist to hold on tight as he turned the accelerator and drove off into the night, the car visible a dozen metres behind them.
How hypocritical. He could have given everything to be in Minho’s arms this morning, but now everything had changed. And nothing could go back to the way it was, Jisung was sure of it.
The lump in his throat hurt him, he wanted to scream, to end the madness and vicious circle his life had turned into. Every ounce of happiness would ultimately transform into the ugliest grief Jisung had ever felt. And they only got worse at time went by. Tonight was a perfect example. He was sure his heart fell on the road, next to Minho’s helmet and broken motorcycle.
That stupid fuck couldn’t even put his helmet back on.
Every cell of his body touched by Minho itched him, warm acid on his skin, monstrous arms circling him. He almost lost control of the bike at full speed when he felt Minho’s hand suddenly on his waistband, panicking to be touched suddenly, not knowing what Minho was doing.
But the older had just grabbed his gun swiftly, making sure it was still loaded. And before Jisung could be scared Minho would point it at his body, he turned around, aiming at the car still a dozen meters behind them.
What the fuck did he think he was doing? Who did he think he was?
He couldn’t just take Jisung’s gun, he couldn’t touch what wasn’t his, he couldn’t act as if nothing had happened, as if they were… a team? No, Jisung hated it. He didn’t want to share his motorcycle, he didn’t want to share his gun. He didn’t want to share anything with him anymore.
Worse than this, he wasted his precious bullets, failing in reaching the bodyguards, only a single bullet actually hitting the windshield. Still without notice, Minho reached into Jisung’s pants pocket, taking new ammunitions. Jisung would have hit him if he didn’t have to hold onto the handlebar for dear life.
But Minho kept wasting his bullets and every firing sound annoyed Jisung more than the last. So, he forcefully grabbed the gun from his hand, aiming at the car and quickly shooting twice, both of them hitting the windshield.
The guards tried to avoid the bullets but they were going too fast, and any sudden movement made them lose control of the car. Still, it gave Minho and Jisung a break, accelerating again before another problem surfaced.
One of the bodyguards had a motorcycle, fast enough to keep up with them, way more powerful than the car to actually threaten them.
Speeding through the peaceful villages, close to the houses, close to the gates and close to death, Jisung focused on the road ahead, fuelled by rage, fuelled by survival instinct. He only wanted to lose the biker behind them, find some undisclosed street that would lead them to the woods, freeing them from death. He didn’t even look in his mirrors anymore, didn’t want to listen to the roaring engine behind them, didn’t dare to turn his head around, didn’t care about Minho’s arms around his waist. That fucking bastard, if they ever came alive out of this, he would deal with him himself.
But despite all the hate he currently held towards him, when Minho’s arms left his waist, Jisung panicked, thinking he fell over as he sped over the bumps. He turned his head around, losing contact with the road to find Minho quickly yet carefully turning around on his seat, facing the biker, his back against Jisung’s.
The younger quickly shifted his attention back to the road, avoiding a large pothole that would have sent them flying to the nearby fields. He had to focus on the handlebar but he stressed out for Minho, the older not holding onto anything, completely at his mercy if he ever made a mistake. He couldn’t see or anticipate anything, if Jisung made a sudden turn, he would fall off the bike in less than a second.
But fear never got to Minho’s blood. He used his thighs to hold onto the bike as best as he could, too focused on taking the bow off his back and placing an arrow onto the holder, a smile on his lips. Pumped by adrenaline, high from danger, he only had one wish: planting an arrow in that biker’s head.
His ebony bow shone under the moonlight like an angel of death, his power held in a barely three-centimetre metal arrowhead, sharp as a knife, as dense as titanium. He couldn’t miss his shot, he only had one arrow left, his week too busy to make new ones.
He pulled on the string, aiming towards the biker who looked for his gun despite the high speed of his motorcycle, not scared of falling down despite the gravel road where Jisung had led them. Minho ignored the bumps, ignored the busts of winds, ignored the gun aiming at him.
He breathed calmly, gently releasing the arrow that lodged itself deep into the biker’s head, breaking his helmet at the same time. And he couldn’t stop smiling, looking at the man falling to the ground, his bike rolling until it hit a tree, exploding in pieces.
Fuck, he loved archery.
But the car soon found them again, Jisung slowing down on the bumpy road to not lose control. He could see the car lights in his mirrors and felt Minho grabbing his gun again, leaning against his back to stabilize himself.
No way he would miss them this time, he could see that bastard’s face through the broken windshield, focusing hard on catching up to their motorcycle. He once again calmed his heartbeat and aimed at the driver, the first bullet missing as Jisung didn’t dare look back, too scared of sending the bike into a tree. Minho shot a second time, the bullet finally finding the driver’s head.
Instantly losing control, the car drifted off on the gravel, tires screeching as the vehicle crashed in a ditch on the side of the road, earning a laugh from Minho who screamed in joy.
Bumps made the motorcycle jump and Minho caught himself at the last time, gripping the seat tightly as Jisung noticed a small muddy path through the fields. Minho turned back around, legs next to Jisung’s hips, arms around his waist again, as Jisung was too scared to be caught up to actually care about the contact.
So, he turned right, drifting in the mud before speeding through the field, his engine the only sound tearing the night.
Chapter 2
Notes:
tw: blood, fights
Chapter Text
Jisung sped up through the fields, through the forests, through the suburbs and Seoul. Careful to not be followed, he took different routes to potentially lose any guards that could have pursued them. And only once his gut told him they were safe, he headed home, finding the comfort and security of the familiar underground parking lot.
He stopped the motorcycle, taking his helmet off and his breath back as Minho laughed, high from adrenaline and danger, absolutely loving the night he just spent and the pursuit. He could still feel the wood of his bow in his hand, still feel the arrow getting released from the string, still hear the helmet breaking and the biker crashing down on the road. Destruction. He had shot the perfect arrow.
Still uneasy and tense, Jisung headed straight towards the stairs, jumping the steps two by two, obsessed with sheltering inside the safety of his apartment. With Minho slightly limping on his trails, he unlocked the door, only relaxing once he locked the door again, the silence in his apartment contrasting the roaring engines and firing bullets. Peace, security, comfort. Fleeting concepts in his life.
This peaceful silence lasted barely two seconds, until Minho chuckled as he took off his shoes. “That was fun.”
Fun? Almost being killed was fun?
Honestly, Jisung had almost forgotten about Minho, about the betrayal and the secrets, the lies and the robbery. Rage poisoned his heart again, fists clenching at the memory of Minho taking his helmet off. They had been interrupted earlier, but now it was just the two of them. And he couldn’t fucking bear with him anymore.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he groaned at Minho, the older surprised of his aggressive tone. He had already forgotten everything, only thrilled about their chase and escape through the fields.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t smile when that car crashed,” Minho had a grin on his face, taking off his bow to remove his jacket. Jisung wanted to strangle him with it.
“You think it’s a joke, right?”
He threatened the older, taking a step towards him as Minho was more confused than really scared. But Jisung couldn’t handle that attitude anymore, couldn’t deal with that lack of responsibilities, that lack of empathy from someone who clearly didn’t realize just how badly he had hurt someone. Jisung’s heart was torn to shreds, the tiny ray of hope that had finally appeared in his mind: destroyed forever.
“You think you can just laugh right now?”, he spat his rage at the older, grabbing him too quickly for Minho to make a move, suddenly pinned against the wall, shoulders hurting from the forceful blow. “You don’t get to laugh anymore, I’m so fucking sick of you.”
Minho forced on Jisung’s arms, pulling at the younger’s wrists to free his arms, hitting his leg to get him off, but Jisung had turned into pure rage. He wouldn’t let Minho go, no matter how much it would hurt to hold him against the wall, no matter how much the older would fight back. He couldn’t care less right now.
“You like stealing people, huh?” he pushed Minho back against the wall, hitting his shoulders again, striking his head painfully again. “You owe me so much, so fucking much…”
“I’m sorry…” Minho looked at the ground, Jisung’s pressuring stare unable to endure any longer. “I-I can’t give you the money back,” he mumbled, knowing another wave of pain was about to pass through his body. And, as expected, the back of his head hurt again, another blow sending him into the wall.
“I can’t believe it was you, I can’t believe you lied to me,” Jisung looked at Minho with so much rage, so much wrath, like he could tear him apart to pieces if he ever laid his hands on him again. The older groaned in pain in his tight grasp, unable to free his wrists pinned to the wall, his head a bit dizzy now from the recurrent blows.
“The university, the part-time job, your favourite anime character… Do you even like drinking coffee in the morning or was that just another act to fool me?”
“You lied too-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jisung let go of Minho’s wrist to harshly grab his hair and push his head against the wall. Another strike of pain. Even stronger this time. There would soon be blood on the wall if he remained as violent.
“I was scared for you. The bruises on your face… I thought someone was hitting you, bullying you. Turns out maybe you deserved them.”
“I didn’t know I stole contracts from you,” Minho started to defend himself despite Jisung pressing his forearm against his throat, trapping his head and choking him progressively tighter as Minho’s hands reached for Jisung’s arm, trying to pull him away desperately.
“You stole my money eight times! EIGHT!” he screamed at the older, his face getting slightly red from the intense fighting. “Are you targeting me or something?”
“I swear I didn’t know,” Minho could feel the air missing from his lungs, not filling up quickly enough as Jisung only kept pressing on his throat, his face getting closer and closer to Minho, probably trying to kill him with his stare as well.
“If I knew it was you every time, I would’ve stopped,” he explained, panicking as he could feel his head getting light, his ears ringing as the world turned blurry.
Jisung saw Minho’s glassy eyes, not focusing anymore as he gasped in front of him, desperate for air. So, he released him, the older falling to the ground instantly, breathing hard and coughing as he slowly regained consciousness.
Jisung looked down on Minho, with so much disgust it would have probably hurt the older if he could actually see anything right now. He blinked fast, hinting at his sight to come back. But well, it was not his first time, he was used to blows, used to headaches and bleeding. Jisung wasn’t the first and he definitely wouldn’t be the last.
The blows never came from home though.
Holding on to the wall, Minho found his breath again, understanding Jisung’s violence, not sure he deserved it nonetheless.
“I only joined this business a few months ago. I’m still not sure how it works,” he coughed, his big pleading eyes finding Jisung’s cold stare again. “I just accept whatever contract comes up, it was never against you…”
Living in the same city, and now same apartment, they both chose missions close to them, ones they could win easily, without getting too far from home. Jisung understood, he hated it still. He couldn’t look at that man the same ever again. His whole life riddled with lies, so many he didn’t know what was reality anymore.
He hated himself for accepting Minho as his roommate, he hated himself for trusting him, he hated himself for being fooled so easily. He thought he had found his oasis, a safety shrine where he could eventually be himself, where he could eventually be vulnerable. How could he even think Minho needed help? That snake, that manipulator.
Almost going too far and kissing him, Jisung had forbidden himself from loving Minho, from getting close to him, from putting him in danger. The supreme fool. But a part of him still loved him, and that’s why it all hurt so much. Spending his entire life alone, he thought he had found someone now. He thought his circle had grown from zero to one person. Turns out, he was still at zero, or maybe minus one now.
Better leave before insulting him again. Jisung was too angry right now to produce a single coherent thought that didn’t start with “Fuck you” and ended with “son of a bitch”.
Still on the floor, Minho faintly grabbed his ankle as he walked away, looking up at Jisung with confused and wounded eyes, trying to redeem himself in any way.
“I didn’t know… I promise Jisung.”
Jisung?
How did he dare speak his name? He had lost that privilege two hours ago on the side of that road.
He violently pushed him off with his leg, Minho letting go of his ankle as he hit the wall again, holding his hurting wrist, gulping down his pain, gulping gown his guilt.
He thought Jisung was his friend. He thought he liked him. Guess he was wrong about that too.
Jisung opened the kitchen drawers, desperate to find any snacks to drown his thoughts, and nerves, and rage in. But he could only focus on the coffee grains and Minho’s cup next to them on the counter, the cat stickers now looking grim to his eyes. Another lie.
He held his fist from hitting Minho when he heard him limp to the kitchen, suppressing his groans, his slightly shaking fingers scrolling on his phone.
From all this fight, he couldn’t believe Minho hadn’t even proposed to give him the money back, to repay everything he had stolen, to offer more to be forgiven. He didn’t want to give it back, he had won those contracts after all. But it was never a matter of winning or losing, it was a matter of theft and morality. Jisung could beat Minho right here and now to get his money back, but that wouldn’t amount to anything. Honestly, he needed money but he didn’t care about it. He cared more about the gesture, about what was right. He didn’t want his money back, he wanted his life back, and his Minho back.
Jisung couldn’t believe he had actually fallen for that cute face and smile… He lost all charms now.
Minho looked up from his phone, biting his finger as he stared at Jisung, uncertain to speak his mind. Jisung stared back, daring him to even utter a word, and Minho looked away, uneasy under his glare. But a few seconds later, he glanced back, not able to take this stupid idea of his head. Maybe his proposition would solve the problem he had unknowingly caused. Maybe he’d pass out from the younger’s next blow, only time would tell.
“Jisung,”
If he ever spoke that name again, Jisung would burst. Minho’s metallic coffee cup seemed sturdy enough, it would hurt once the cat stickers reached his perfect nose. Hopefully they would break it, adding his own touch to the masterpiece of Minho’s bruised face. He held himself, for now.
“I think we should do a mission together. There’s this big contract I’ve been saving for some time now and I’m pretty sure we could do it the two of us.”
His words died down in Jisung’s mind. He couldn’t believe everything that happened today, and still now he couldn’t believe Minho was serious. After everything the older did to him, he wanted Jisung to help him? Seriously?!
This time he grabbed the cup from the counter, his grip tight enough to secure a harmful throw. Minho avoided it despite the speed and strength of Jisung’s aim, not caring if it broke the lamp behind him.
“No, listen to me! I know you’re angry right now, but this mission is impossible to do alone. Nobody’s doing it, it’s been available for weeks now. You know assassins never work together,”
I wonder why…
“But the reward is more than 150 million won… we could share it!” he proposed, hoping the prospect of earning money would please Jisung, his only option to make up for all the money he couldn’t give back to the younger.
But Jisung was burning up in the kitchen. How did Minho dare share money with him? If anything, Jisung deserved it all, he owed him everything. Sharing? With him? No fucking way.
“You know it’s a huge amount, it’s the biggest I’ve seen in Seoul.”
Touché.
“And I’m pretty sure we’d make a good team… I kill targets because, you know, I’m quite good at it and you use your brain and get us out of trouble. We’ll work great together.”
A team? Jisung didn’t even know how to react. Minho was sure of himself, unaware of how condescending his words were, how hurtful they sounded to Jisung. He had failed killing targets because of him! He wasn’t some lost cause that needed a partner to kill people and win contracts. He wasn’t just a chauffeur waiting to bring Minho back home. All that audacity, all that confidence. He wanted to drown him in it.
Minho had those hopeful eyes, thinking that he had convincing arguments when in reality he only had one: 150 million won. And honestly right now, Jisung couldn’t think straight. He needed peace, he needed quiet. A bath, warm enough to engulf him, drown his thoughts and the confusion, the pain, the betrayal. A need to forget Minho’s face, bury the memories deep in his heart, cursing them to never think about him again. Complete oblivion.
But Jisung couldn’t kick him out of the apartment, he needed his rent. That bastard that refused to give him money. That bastard that still stood in his way, blocking him from leaving the kitchen, still hopeful to convince him.
“You should get out my face before I crook your teeth even more,” he warned Minho, a silent stare-off starting in the kitchen, barely inches away from each other’s faces. Yesterday, they would have kissed each other, now the tension would only end up in broken bones.
A few seconds were enough for Minho to concede, stepping off to let Jisung walk to the bathroom, locking himself there for an hour. Long enough to cry, long enough to drown.
He didn’t know if he could ever stop the tears from falling, once again deceived, once again betrayed. Impossible to look at Minho’s face without resenting him. All lies. His life, his friends, his heart. And he knew he was no better, no role model that Minho should take example of. They both did the same to each other, and that’s what probably hurt Jisung the most.
If he had done the same to Minho, why was he so resentful towards him? Why did it hurt so much?
But couldn’t Jisung just hope for some normality in his life for once? Couldn’t he just hope to like some ordinary student with a part-time job? Some roommate who happened to make extra coffee for him every morning? Why did life deny him safety, trust, and honesty? Was it just some sick karma, one that reminded him of his own actions, daring him to despise someone for mirroring his own actions?
Hypocritical.
Jisung stared at his hands, the imprints of his nails still deep in his palms from clenching his fists so hard. Those hands that were meant to help and heal Minho had hurt and pushed him away.
Forgiveness. He couldn’t forgive Minho, and now he couldn’t forgive himself.
Minho never deserved his blows, Jisung knew he told him the truth earlier, that he still lacked experience, that he didn’t know, that he would have stopped if he had recognized Jisung. He knew, or maybe he just wanted to convince himself. To still believe in his oasis.
Jisung didn’t know, but when he came back to the living room an hour later, his temper tamed, and Minho still hadn’t moved from his assigned chair in the kitchen, staring blankly at the empty table in front of him, he knew he regretted what he did. Not that he wanted to speak to him in any way. Tomorrow would solve everything, talking and arguing around a meal seemed a much better idea than hitting each other suddenly.
Tomorrow’s promises, again.
Jisung opened the freezer, bringing Minho’s attention back on him, the older visibly exhausted suddenly as the emotions of the day finally caught up on him. A bag of frozen peas fell on the table in front of him, Jisung closing the freezer and grabbing a glass of water.
Minho placed it on his head, the cold hurting him as much as it helped his throbbing headache. And they stared at each other in silence, both acknowledging each other’s existence, both acknowledging each other’s lies and true nature. Jisung had been crying for the past hour, and Minho was kind enough to not mention his red eyes, or maybe he just didn’t notice them. Jisung didn’t know for sure.
But he ultimately left Minho alone in the kitchen, crawling back to the safety of his own bedroom, unable to stay in his presence one more second without crumbling into tears again.
Time passed, whether Jisung wanted it to or not. He rolled around in his bed, clutching the fluffy blanket in between his hands, holding onto it as a child would hold onto their mother’s fingers, a tight and yet frail grasp that threatened to break at any moment.
Unable to sleep, unable to stop his mind from thinking about Minho, he wished the day would just come as quickly as possible, just so he wouldn’t have any reason to stay in bed anymore, just so he could exhaust himself for an entire day and have no other options but fall into his bed, fast asleep and resting as long as possible to not think about his miserable and solitary life for at least ten hours.
But the tears were silently wetting his pillowcase, and he heard Minho turn on the shower in the bathroom next to him. Once again, unable to forget his presence for more than ten seconds. He didn’t even know why he was angry at the older anymore, just that he was, and that feeling would fester for a few more days before he could try to think rationally about everything.
Jisung wondered if Minho was okay, if he hadn’t struggled too much to walk to the bathroom, his ankle and head still probably hurting. He wondered if Minho was overthinking as much as he did. He wondered if Minho regretted anything, just how he regretted hitting him.
Maybe he was crying by himself in the bathroom, not really knowing why Jisung’s hands hurt him, convincing himself that he probably deserved it. Otherwise, Jisung would never have done anything like that, right?
Jisung grabbed his phone to distract his bursting brain, drowning again in dark thoughts, guilt and shame trapping his heart. He looked at the available contracts, scrolling and scrolling for long minutes, reluctantly accepting that Minho was right. Seoul currently seemed to be in a drought, no new offers coming up for the past three days.
It had already happened once to Jisung, and he had spent three months without finding a single contract near him, before hate showed up again and people wanted to kill each other again. The only interesting contract was the one Minho had proposed to do together. And if they were really entering a drought and he couldn’t make enough money to cover it, then he would get himself into trouble with his bank. Those chained feet and hands, slaves to the money master. He hated that.
He regretted yelling at Minho, he regretted hitting him. Still, he didn’t like the idea of teaming up together. He would rather die actually. He was pondering between two horrible options: would he rather live with Minho, forever haunted by his lies, never knowing when to trust him, or would he rather forget everything about him, separate and never cross each other’s paths ever again?
He hated the first option, he had no choice for the second. He couldn’t force Minho out of his apartment, he needed his money. His… And Jisung had no intention of leaving this town, tired of running around, tired of never settling somewhere. After all, he had bought this apartment to stay, not to abandon it.
Not even talking about never seeing Minho again. Despite all that hate filling up his heart right now, if he didn’t see him in the living room tomorrow, he would fall into despair, he knew it. In so little time, Minho had become Jisung’s reason to live, a way to survive the loneliness, an anchor to keep him from sinking. Helping him had made Jisung find meaning into his meaningless life. Losing him hurt. Not Minho, the one he was supposed to be.
Three soft knocks brought Jisung back to reality, his phone on the ground after falling from his hands, too lost in his head to even notice it slipping down.
“Jisung?”
Again, this soft voice, even softer now that the older had showered and relaxed, worried and hurt. Too soft for Jisung’s heart. Too soft to be angry anymore. Minho could speak his name all he wanted if he did it with this voice.
“Can I come in?”
Yeah, no way.
Couldn’t he just leave him alone for once? He knew he had almost begged for Minho to stay close and put back all the missing pieces in his heart, but couldn’t the universe get his cues before? Jisung didn’t want him now, he didn’t want Minho to see him in this state. His tears had to remain for himself, a burden only he had to bear.
He looked at himself through his phone screen, eyes red and puffy, nose runny and cheeks glistening with the never-ending stream of tears falling down his face. His upper lip trembling every time he took a shaky breath, unable to relax his body even if he wanted to. Minho didn’t deserve to see him like this, didn’t deserve to worry about him.
“I’m sorry…” Minho apologized again, for the endless time today, breaking Jisung’s heart just a tiny bit more, pushing it further into irreparable damage.
“Do you prefer kakao or naver pay?”
That’s alright, keep stirring the knife in the wound, keep bleeding him alive to find nothing but a pile of flesh and bones on the ground, with nothing to pick from it but resentment and nostalgia.
Jisung couldn’t accept it from him, not because he didn’t need it, not because it was Minho proposing. He cared about money, but to get it from the one who stole it, offered so easily… That didn’t mean anything anymore. No way he would accept it, he still hated the idea, even if he didn’t hate the man anymore. You wouldn’t accept a gift from your enemy.
“How much do you want right now? Half?”
His soft voice reached through the door, filled with so much regret and guilt, and a desperate need to make everything right. Every silence from Jisung was a knife to Minho’s heart, a reminder that he had done something wrong and was to blame, a reminder that he had to apologize, a reminder that things had changed and would never go back to the way they were. He liked Jisung, now he didn’t know if he liked him back, if he even wanted him there in his apartment anymore.
“All of it? I-I can’t give you everything, I already spent some…”
Reckless. Of course, he had spent them. Jisung didn’t expect him to keep his money forever. He remained silent, unable to actually answer, just hoping the older wouldn’t barge inside his room and see the mess he had made of himself.
“I… I don’t know what to do…” Minho admitted, defeated. And no other sounds were ever heard in the apartment that night. One’s heart feeling betrayed, the other one’s only filled up with guilt and blame.
Jisung managed to sleep that night, after hours of pondering and realizing accepting Minho’s offer was probably the smartest choice he could make. No matter if he couldn’t face Minho without wanting to punch his face right now, one day he would be able to dissolve all the hatred in his heart. At least, he hoped so.
The sun peeked in his room, waking him up earlier than he wanted, but he didn’t mind getting up for once. The air outside the windows called him, walking in the fresh morning seemed a great idea to not drown in gloomy thoughts again. Nature would soothe him.
He dressed up to go out but when he opened the door, he stumbled upon Minho in the hallway, the older sitting on the floor against the wall, sleeping deeply as his head dropped down and his hands rested between his thighs.
No…
Jisung tried to stop his brain, tried to stop his thoughts, but he couldn’t help but find him cute sitting like that. He had probably spent the entire night in front of his door, hoping for an answer or a sign, worrying about Jisung, considering his harsh words and actions. Jisung didn’t want to think about Minho blaming himself, didn’t want to think about all the damage he had caused. So, he left him there, in his joggers and t-shirt, peacefully sleeping, and put on shoes to leave his regrets and shame behind.
The trees turned yellow now that autumn had settled down in Seoul. And the sound of crunching leaves beneath his feet once brought him joy, but now he could only hear the sound of his own heart breaking every time he stepped on them.
Unable to stop thinking about Minho, Jisung didn’t last more than ten minutes before coming back from his walk. What was the point of it all if everything hurt more once in nature, in silence? So much for soothing his heart when he couldn’t drown his thoughts in music or whatever noise loud enough to make him forget he had a brain to begin with.
The older hadn’t moved from the hallway when he came back, despite the sun lighting up the apartment. Jisung walked over his legs to reach his bedroom again, not really interested in staying in the living room and face the day. He needed the comfort of his private room.
The night hadn’t helped much after all…
But the sight of the older sleeping made him think twice before leaving him again, noticing the hair rising on his arms, cold from sitting on the floor. There were no blankets in the living room, and he honestly didn’t want to lend him his favourite fluffy blanket. Never in his life.
But he could lend him a hoodie.
So, he took off the one he had worn outside and crouched down towards Minho, putting the hoodie over his upper body, trying to cover his arms with it. But his fingers brushed against the older’s skin and he stirred a bit in his sleep, scaring Jisung who backed away, not ready to face him, before adjusting the hoodie on his body again once he made sure the older was still sound asleep.
But Minho opened his eyes, now fully aware that someone had entered his private space. He violently grabbed the hand over his chest, his hold tight and firm as he still hadn’t realized who was next to him, only relying on his instincts.
When his eyes met Jisung’s, the younger pulling on his wrist to free himself from his grasp, Minho let go instantly, straightening up to not make even more a pity of himself. Seriously… Sleeping in front of someone’s door, that was another level of loser behavior. But he couldn’t help it; he felt so tired yesterday, he didn’t even feel himself drifting off to sleep. He just closed his eyes and when he opened them, Jisung was next to him.
“Sorry,” he managed to mumble, eyes squinting at the sunlight coming from Jisung’s slightly opened bedroom door.
“You looked cold,” Jisung simply answered, instantly closing the door behind to not let Minho glance inside. Boundaries. He needed to build them back up, he couldn’t let the older into his life again.
Minho looked down at his chest, Jisung’s hoodie slowly warming his body back up. Unconsciously, he smiled. Maybe Jisung didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Maybe he had thought twice about his apology, maybe he believed Minho.
“Well, now that you’re awake…” Jisung grabbed his hoodie back before Minho could transfer his scent onto the fabric, exposing the older to the cold room again.
Maybe he still hated him then.
Left by himself in the hallway, Minho still followed Jisung to the kitchen, not having any better option than sticking around for now, hoping to understand, hoping to find the magical solution that would make everything great again.
Jisung was grinding coffee, terribly, but Minho didn’t dare interrupt. He sat at the table, silently observing Jisung making his coffee, and then scrolling on his phone. Honestly, the silence was eating Minho alive, only allowing his brain to fill up the void with unwanted thoughts of self-hate and blame. He didn’t say anything. Waiting for Jisung to speak, to talk to him, to tell him what to do, to open up. That was the best solution.
“Not eating?” Jisung finally asked, forcing himself to break the silence, feeling Minho’s worrying state in his bones. He couldn’t let the thoughts eat him alive, the older didn’t deserve it.
“Not hungry,” he spoke back, looking at Jisung but the younger scrolled back on his phone. One more failed attempt. Maybe apologizing again wouldn’t change anything, but it was the only thing Minho could do right now.
“I–”
“That guy you want to take down, he works in the government,” Jisung interrupted him, stunning Minho with a conversation he never thought they’d have again. To him, it was clear: Jisung would never work with him. Yesterday, he was convinced he would have to urgently find a new apartment after Jisung sacked him. Now, he was lost.
“It won’t be easy,” Jisung sipped his coffee, still only staring at his screen, looking up info about the target Minho had found yesterday.
After all, it was for 150 million won. Jisung might be embittered, that didn’t mean he was stupid.
“But, I thought…” Minho’s voice died down when Jisung finally looked back at him. He was so confused he didn’t know what to think anymore. Did Jisung accept the team offer? Didn’t he hate him more than anything now? Wouldn’t he strangle him again if he had the chance?
“I know… I thought the same yesterday,” he finished his coffee before heading to the couch, not strong enough to sit across Minho yet.
He kept looking up information on the man. He worked in the government, in a protected ministry where they would struggle to enter. He probably had his own security service inside, he was part of the parliament after all. Of course, it was 150 millions, it involved politics…
The silence from Minho’s side was deafening, the older only able to look at Jisung on the couch, still not believing his eyes. He liked it, he didn’t want to be pushed away from Jisung so teaming up with him seemed like heaven. And yet, he knew Jisung only accepted for money, would probably hate him the whole time they worked together, would keep him there for as long as the mission kept going, and then sack him when he had the money. It hurt, but there was no point denying reality.
Still, Minho hoped because that’s the only thing he could hold on to. That winning a contract with Jisung and giving him money back would make it all better. It was a simple reasoning, it was enough for Minho to pour his all into succeeding the mission, his only hope of fixing this situation.
“Don’t act so shocked. It’s 150 millions come on…” Jisung spoke faintly from the living room, not needing to take a look at Minho to feel his stare on him.
He turned around to stare back, allowing a few seconds of silence before looking the older up and down a bit. “You’re gonna sit here all day or help me?”
Minho gulped down, the younger’s serious tone unsettling him as he suddenly acted professional, scrolling back on his phone to find more info on that government official.
“I know where he lives,” he got up from the table to join Jisung in the living room, way too confident compared to the younger. “Maybe we can do it tonight.”
That hope in his voice, that candour and naivety in his eyes. Was he stupid or suicidal?
They didn’t know anything about the man, Jisung had learned his name ten minutes ago. He ignored the security system surrounding him, he ignored if he had a family. He hadn’t thought about what his death would cause around him, or in the country, because he was rather influential and they had to take that into account.
Honestly, the contract had attracted him. But it only listed a corrupted politician. He couldn’t kill anyone without knowing why before. Corruption. Did he spend the state’s money for himself? Was he accepting money to advise and vote or not on different new laws? Was he involved in crimes? How far did it go?
Minho wasn’t just reckless, he was running to his death. If not today, then tomorrow. If not with this contract, then in the next. No way he would bring Jisung down with him. The younger still cared about his life, not matter how much he hated it now.
“What the fuck are you on about?” his glare ended Minho’s fleeting confidence in a millisecond, confusing him again.
“We don’t know anything about him, it’s too soon,” he argued, witnessing in real time Minho’s positivity leaving his body.
“But I’ve always done my missions this way… And I never failed.”
“Well I don’t work like that,” Jisung shushed him off quickly, annoyed at his arguments and defense. Shouldn’t his years of experience prevail over Minho’s few months? It was already hard enough to accept teaming up with him, so if he could not make it harder, that would help Jisung an immense amount.
“If you want to work with me, you follow my rules, ok?” he stared at Minho who raised an eyebrow, not so fond of being bossed around like that.
“You accepted my offer though…” he crossed his arms in return, the tension in the living room rising as Jisung glared at him, sighing to himself, one word away from reconsidering his decision. If Minho absolutely needed a partner for this mission, then he’d soon have to find someone else with that attitude.
Minho gulped down, eventually unable to sustain Jisung’s harsh glare. Being bossed around actually made his blood boil, but he’d rather act the way Jisung wanted than lose him. And he was so close to losing him. Forever.
“What is your way then?” he asked reluctantly, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, looking outside the window at the buildings, the world slowly waking up as he imagined the lives of all those people working normal jobs and having actual relationships and friends. Their own situation seemed like a huge scam, a fleeting bubble that threatened to burst at any given moment, a precious balance that had almost been destroyed last night. They were all so lucky, the normal people.
“First, we find out who this guy is,” Jisung explained, focused on his phone. “What he does, who his family is, his friends, his colleagues. When he goes to work, when he comes back. Who he works with, why he is accused of corruption,” he kept listing things as Minho listened with one ear, the other too focused on a couple eating breakfast together in the building next to them. Sharing a bowl of cereals, sipping coffee and orange juice, cutting fruits for each other. They seemed so relaxed, so peaceful. He wondered if he could ever feel that one day.
“Then we go on site and follow him around, try to find his routine and weaknesses in his security protocol, to know when and where we can strike.”
Minho hummed in agreement, shifting his attention back to Jisung still scrolling on his phone and writing down any important info he could find on the man. Minho figured he should do the same and mimicked Jisung, the younger observing him at times. Monitoring. Assessing. Trying to understand his acts, his mind.
Minho wanted to form a team and yet he seemed to hate any form of teamwork, compromising felt like ripping his skin off. Jisung didn’t know if he actually scrolled on his phone to help him or if he was just watching some stupid reels or shopping online, a.k.a. not helping him at all.
That mind of his was a mystery, and his intentions were hidden behind layers of concessions and acceptance, of trying to please Jisung and yet not listening to him. Minho kept sighing to himself, scrolling endlessly on his phone, resting his head on his hand.
Until he wrote an info he had found on the man, and Jisung was sure he was effectively accepting his plan, effectively compromising between his way of doing and Jisung’s. Even if it apparently bored him to death.
But their search proved to be fruitful. Because that man wasn’t just working in the government, he was basically the government. He was the prime minister’s counsellor, and that meant he could directly impact every decision, every law, every voting intention from the ministers. He had a wife and two kids, a visibly happy marriage that hid something hideous beneath, it always did. Jisung just needed to find what he was hiding.
He lived out of town, in a large mansion lost in the woods, a perfect place for secret meetings. But he was difficulty approachable. He worked somewhere in the main ministry, probably on another floor than the overprotected sixth one where the minister’s office was situated.
His protection made it seem like he was the minister, he always had three bodyguards with him, dressed in civilian clothes, observing around him at all times, ready to defend or attack. They were allowed to hold guns, unlike Jisung and Minho. And they surely could kill them too if they wanted to.
The ministry was permanently guarded and entering it was a suicide mission, so Jisung figured they would have to find another place to strike. He also ruled out his mansion, because if he constantly had three bodyguards around him, he imagined his house was even more secure.
“I think we should start by going to the ministry,” Jisung put his phone on the table, stretching as Minho brought his attention back to him.
“Just to see things with our own eyes,” he got up from the couch and went to his bedroom to change, trusting Minho would do the same. The university was closed on week-ends, and he had worked all Saturday at the restaurant to have a day off today. He had time to spare this Sunday.
The next time they met, Jisung was ready to leave in his hoodie, and the sight of Minho irritated him as much as it made him laugh, secretly, because none of it showed on his annoyed face.
The older was dressed as if he was going to university, wearing a sleeveless puffy jacket and a sweater. The problem was down to the huge sunglasses Minho was hiding behind. Whether it was to be unrecognizable or to hide his bruise, Jisung didn’t care. He looked stupid.
“You should take the sunglasses off,” he suggested more aggressively than he wanted to, earning a loud sigh from Minho who unknowingly pouted his lips in disagreement as he tied his own shoes. Too many rules Jisung followed, it annoyed him.
Despite Jisung’s hostile tone, Minho never took them off, and Jisung eventually didn’t want to fight any more. He just looked extra stupid wearing sunglasses too big for him with a padded jacket, but that was just his opinion. And Minho didn’t care about his opinion.
Except, he did.
They took the subway to reach the administrative centre of Seoul where all the government buildings were grouped. Jisung rolled his eyes when he had to wait for Minho to order a coffee because he still hadn’t drunk his usual cup this morning. But he let him do it, he didn’t really have a choice anyways…
Happily sipping his coffee, Minho warmed his body back up, exploring a part of town he didn’t really know, following Jisung who was meticulously looking at every street corner, every camera installed on the walls, every sign of police or official buildings. And after more than fifteen minutes of wandering around, he only noticed one reoccurring pattern: there were policemen everywhere.
This part of Seoul was probably the most guarded one, holding the political centre of the country. And it confirmed his fears, their mission seemed completely impossible to execute. No way they could attack the counsellor when there were cops on every street. No way they could even enter in the building. They had to find another solution.
They headed towards the counsellor’s ministry, walking a wide boulevard, busy with people going to work in their cars, their bikes, or in buses. And they walked with the rest of the world, their motives hidden for anyone but them, meddling with the crowd.
Or well, Jisung did. Because Minho sipping his coffee a few meters behind him with his sunglasses on despite the grey clouds darkening the sky looked rather odd in the midst of the working people. Why did he even choose a pink straw to drink his coffee? A child in a man’s body.
But soon, they saw armed policemen patrolling, observing everyone passing by. To their left, the ministry’s high walls protected the privacy of the state, hiding its corrupting lies and deceiving promises.
The tall gates were opened but two policemen holding rifles deterred them to make another step forward to observe behind the doors. A car entered the court, no one paying attention to it, not even Minho, but Jisung did. And when he locked eyes with the counsellor he almost thought it was his lucky day.
Yesterday, he didn’t know this man existed. And today, he could recognize him instantly, his greying hair and moustache, these sharp blue eyes behind glasses, the lines and wrinkles on his forehead. They exchanged a quick eye contact, him not knowing Jisung as the contrary wasn’t true. He knew too much, so much it felt weird to look at him, breaking some form of intimacy that he shouldn’t have with a complete stranger.
Jisung still hadn’t found how corrupted he was, what he had done that made someone want to kill him. But he would soon find out.
Not today though.
He crossed the street, followed by Minho, visibly not in tune with Jisung’s spying abilities. And honestly, he couldn’t care less about observing a guy and a building for however many hours Jisung deemed appropriate. He preferred acting, he always did. He sat next to the younger on the bench still, but he would have just rather barged at the counsellor’s house and hope for the best, improvise on site. It had never been a problem before.
Five minutes sitting on the bench and he finished his coffee.
Thirty minutes sitting on the bench and his body was getting cold.
Two hours on the bench. Boredom was eating him alive.
He didn’t dare pull his phone out, too afraid of disappointing Jisung who was still involved in his observation, taking mental notes of everything and everyone. He had probably figured out the policemen’s names and routines by now, just by observing. And it impressed Minho but still didn’t help with the mission because that man was inside, and they were outside.
Still, his sigh reached Jisung’s eardrum, annoying the younger as he could feel Minho shifting around, desperately trying to distract himself and not sleep, not caring at all about observing and finding a way inside. Jisung knew the older had never proceeded that way, but he could feign interest, even just a little bit. What was the point of forming a team if Minho was just a dead weight Jisung had to carry around?
And when the sun reached the highest point in the sky, midday falling upon them, Minho’s stomach growls distracted Jisung so much he had to intervene, he himself getting tired of sitting on that bench in vain.
“Hungry?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Minho hummed, getting up only once Jisung started moving. The younger only wanted to get this over with to explore around the building, knowing Minho would not be too much of a pain if he had something in his stomach. Once again, he was right.
He went into the first restaurant he found, only turning around and looking at Minho to confirm the older wanted to eat there too. He nodded and they sat at the first table they saw, next to the windows so Jisung could still observe the ministry peeking at the end of the street.
Still not used to eating together, they were a bit flustered sitting at the same table in front of one another, unable to look anywhere but at the man in front of them. Even if Jisung stared outside and Minho stared at his plate in silence. This all seemed like a sick joke they had to endure.
It hurt Jisung, because he would have given everything to eat with Minho before, to talk to him about anything, but now the opportunity had been lost. Forever. What would he share with him anyways?
Minho was a secret, but not one Jisung wanted to uncover anymore. Whatever he said would eventually bring him back to the Minho he lost, because he was still there, studying and working his part-time job. He just happened to lie about killing people in his spare time. The real Minho just brought Jisung’s attention back to his own life, making it impossible to escape from his misery through him, and that’s what he hated about this whole situation, about eating with a man he liked and yet despised. A man he wanted to share everything with but didn’t want to talk to anymore. An oasis that had turned into a mirage.
The empty streets bored Jisung, the ministry lost his interest after a time, not detecting any movement anymore. So, he brought his attention back to Minho eating his steak by himself, because if Jisung was sitting at the same table, he definitely wasn’t there with him.
He glanced at the older from time to time, observing the habits he once found endearing, his pouty mouth and the way he quickly licked his lips every time sauce remained on them, his fast blinking and long eyelashes covered by his even longer hair. Could it be possible to hate someone you loved so dearly?
Minho hadn’t had time to cover up the bruise today, and it added another pathetic touch to his look, but now inside, he didn’t have sunglasses to make up for it. It was fading but Jisung could still see the purple lines on his skin. Sadly, it wasn’t much of a concern to the younger anymore. He had thrown away his empathy alongside his broken heart last night.
“So,” he started awkwardly, Minho looking back up at him, full attention on his next words. “That bruise on your face… It’s from a mission?”
Minho nodded, breaking Jisung’s already shattered heart. He knew it, that’s why he’d had a meltdown ever since yesterday, but Minho’s confirmation was another blow, like pouring salt on a bleeding wound. No one was hurting him, he wasn’t bullied, he didn’t need help.
And he felt guilty for wishing it was the case, that Minho actually needed help. His help. He shouldn’t wish for Minho to get hurt. He shouldn’t wish to be the one to clean his wounds, to heal his bruises and soothe his pain.
But if he was punched by a bodyguard while on a mission, then it didn’t count. After today, Jisung had seen it coming. If Minho ran into every mission just like he had wanted to proceed with this one, jumping straight into danger and forgetting he had a brain, then his bruises were no mystery.
“You almost look disappointed,” Minho pointed out with a low voice, finishing his steak as Jisung struggled to take another bite of his meal, exposed in plain sight. He didn’t know whether to lie or not. His life had been tangled in lies and secrets, he was tired of it all. Only advantage of Minho being an assassin like him, he could tell him everything about his job now. But the downside of their similarities implied never escaping that reality. And he needed to. Just as much as he needed air to live.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Who cares what I want,” Jisung ate his meal under Minho’s stare, saddened to see the younger shutting himself and locking his feelings away.
“I care…” he replied with a soft and faint voice, his tone unable to hide the sadness drowning his heart. But Jisung chuckled, a laugh filled with disappointment and anger, a laugh because otherwise it would have been a punch.
“It’s not like I can trust you anymore.”
“It’s not like we do the same job,” Minho replied, tired that Jisung’s resentment towards him came from his lies, when the younger had done just the same to him. But he didn’t see Minho overreact or hiss at him anytime they talked.
Jisung glared at him for a time, unable to reply because Minho was right. He didn’t care about the lies. He cared about the revenge he could never fulfil because the archer was Minho and he didn’t want to hurt him. He cared about the comforting image of the boy he was falling for suddenly disappearing and leaving a mirror that reflected his own miserable life in its place.
“I was just as shocked as you…” Minho’s voice died down, calming Jisung’s resentment with it, putting himself in the older’s shoes for a second. It made him relativize more than he originally wanted to.
“It’s just…” he spoke after a time, staring outside to not look at Minho directly, feeling his eyes boring into his skin.
“I guess I just liked the way you helped me forget about my shitty life. That you made me believe I could have normal friends and find some kind of meaning. But now when I look at you, I see myself every time. You remind me of me every time. And it hurts.”
Minho stayed silent for a bit, embarrassed because he never expected Jisung to open up, because he never expected him to speak so honestly about deep feelings he had buried for too long. And now, he didn’t know what to say.
“I miss the old you, even if I just imagined him in my mind.”
A memory, a dream. Nothing more than a fantasy.
“But I’m still the same,” Minho’s soft voice brought Jisung’s attention back to him.
“I never lied to you, I just didn’t tell you everything. Just like you never lied to me and just didn’t tell me everything.”
Jisung hummed, because he understood the logic behind Minho’s reasoning and put that way, he was right. But all that anger he felt inside his boiling body, all that shock and disappointment and confusion, they had to count for something, right? He couldn’t just feel things for nothing. How could he be wrong but still have to battle these conflicting emotions in his body?
“I-”
Wait.
That man sitting a few tables further away from them, with his grey-ish hair and his round glasses, he recognized him. Of course, he did! What was the counsellor doing here? He didn’t think he would leave the ministry to eat, even less here.
But he looked around and noticed many people dressed in expensive suits and tailored clothes. It seemed this restaurant was the go-to place for the entire ministry. Lucky day it was, then.
Minho turned around to follow Jisung’s stare, confused as to why he stopped mid-sentence.
“Is that–”
“Yes.”
They never spoke another word, both of them trying to hear whatever the counsellor was saying, observing the man eating his chicken and discussing with other men, various topics surely all important for the well-being of their country…
But Jisung was too far away, and the restaurant was too crowded to decipher anything they said. He panicked when Minho suddenly walked up towards the counsellor, scared of what he had in mind. But he just walked past and headed to the toilets, eyeing their table as he passed by.
He stayed a minute there, coming back quickly and observing their table again, until he crouched down to the ground right behind them. Jisung looked at the older curiously, still trying to not draw too much attention on himself. What was he doing? No way he was actually tying his shoelaces right next to them… He could also tell those men and the entire restaurant he was spying on the counsellor, that would make things so much easier.
Minho brought attention on him, of course, taking so long to tie his damn shoelaces. The counsellor drifted his attention from the chicken in his plate to look at him, crouched down behind his chair. Minho smiled at him, standing back up and going to Jisung’s table, the younger exchanging a second eye-contact with the counsellor within a few hours, too much to not stress him out about his cover right now.
Jisung stared right back at Minho, trying to hide his stress as the counsellor’s eyes were still on him. But the older was smiling, unbothered to have brought attention upon them, not caring or knowing the risks he had taken.
“Did you like your little trip?” Jisung asked through gritted teeth. “You couldn’t have waited to be back here to tie your fucking shoe?”
Quick glance to the counsellor whose focus was back on his conversation, chicken in his mouth like before, not caring about them anymore.
“Well, I learned interesting things during my trip,” Minho still smiled at Jisung despite his aggressive remarks.
“I heard them talking about invite-only parties when I came back so I had to find an excuse to listen to them a bit more.”
“So?” Jisung was now eager to know more, because parties usually led to illegal activities with these people. It somehow always proved to be true.
“Turns out the counsellor throws parties at his house and he sends personal invitations to people,” Minho explained, unable to keep the smile off his face, too excited to tell Jisung.
“The next one is tomorrow night. We could strike there.”
Jisung’s eyes were wide, the opportunity suddenly too big to miss. After all, that was the only opportunity to be in a remote place at the same time as the counsellor. The contract had been there for weeks, maybe other assassins were trying to win the money. They couldn’t miss this chance.
“We need an invite,” he thought aloud, keeping his voice low to not be heard.
“Do you want me to ask him?” Minho suggested, the grin on his face still not leaving.
“How are you even going to do that?” Jisung didn’t understand. No way this plan would work. Minho was reckless and didn’t think twice about his own actions, sure, but he couldn’t be this stupid.
“I don’t know, I could use my charms and um, you know…” his smug smile annoyed Jisung who rolled his eyes.
“Yeah sure,” he sighed as Minho chuckled, enjoying his joke.
“We don’t know actually, it could work. Maybe he likes younger men-”
“Shut up,” Jisung shushed him, knowing it was all a joke, hating the possibility that it could actually happen. That was a stupid plan, plus there was no way Minho would actually do it, right?
Minho chuckled in front of him, not caring about the weight of his words. How could Jisung want to punch Minho and yet be overprotective of him? Because it really annoyed Jisung to imagine him next to the counsellor, his disgusting hands on Minho’s waist as they talked, his eyes staring hungrily at him. Becoming the counsellor’s whore was not the way to enter the parties, Jisung was sure of that.
And before he could think of another idea, the counsellor was leaving the restaurant, glancing at their table as Jisung noticed his eyes were looking at Minho. Was it because he rightfully thought Minho had spied on him? Was it before he attracted him? No, Jisung was just hallucinating. Why did Minho have to put this stupid idea in his brain…
Once out of sight, Minho got up to follow them, Jisung close behind. But they just entered the ministry by the front entrance, beeping their badges and passing the security gates like everyone else. They had learned a valuable piece of information, but if they were not invited to the parties, Minho’s daring was all for nothing.
Jisung sat on the same bench as before, staring at the building but still not finding any solution to enter. They couldn’t pass the security control because they had no reason being here, they had no badge to beep. And unfortunately, there seemed to be no other way inside but that overcontrolled gate.
But Minho was inspired, observing a touring guide entering the building, followed by a crowd of twenty tourists, all excited to visit the monument. That was their way in.
“Come,” he ordered Jisung as he crossed the road in a hurry, not caring much about the dense traffic.
For fuck’s sake…
Jisung ran after him, avoiding cars and ignoring their honking at him. Whatever Minho had seen, whatever the reason he was crossing the boulevard so carelessly, that would not be enough to protect him from Jisung’s wrath. Not mentioning all the attention they had now brought upon themselves…
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed at Minho, still following the older meddling with the back of the tourist group.
“Who didn’t get their visitor’s pass?” the touring guide asked the group as a few tourists in front of Minho raised their hands. He did the same and Jisung followed him, understanding what he was trying to do, fearing it just as much.
If they managed to enter without the security officers or the guide calling them out, then that was the best idea Minho could have come up with. But if they were caught, they would be handed to the police, and breaking into a ministry surely meant trouble.
A lot of trouble.
Still, the guide didn’t remember exactly how many people were in his group, he always brought a few more passes with him, just in case. So, Jisung and Minho grabbed theirs and put it around their neck, the blue piece of paper suddenly allowing them access to one of the country’s best guarded buildings.
They walked with the crowd, Jisung ignoring the security officers, Minho greeting them. They passed the walk-through-detectors, Jisung praying that he had taken every one of his weapons out of his bag and pockets this morning. He did.
But the detector activated behind him, the ringing loud enough to alert everyone in the ministry. He turned around to see Minho under the detector’s red lights, the officer in front of him already gesturing him to spread his arms and legs a bit.
He obeyed, thinking hard on what he could have forgotten, stressing out suddenly. He didn’t remember taking his knife today, but he didn’t remember taking it off his jeans either. And when the hand-held detector beeped at his jeans pocket, the officer plunged his hand inside instantly, cutting Minho’s breath short.
Jisung held his breath and Minho stared at the officer’s hand, praying with all his might he would not take a knife out of his pocket. Because then he would be taken to the police station instantly, that was sure.
His phone…
The officer took out his phone from the pocket…
Altogether relieved and yet quite disappointed, the officer still passed the detector once again for good measure, almost desperate to find someone to arrest. But Minho never beeped again, and he grabbed his phone from the officer’s hand with a smile on his face, joining back Jisung who was finally breathing again.
“You couldn’t think about it before?” he asked as they joined the group, but Minho only smiled.
“It’s not fun if everything goes smoothly.”
“Well, I like it when it’s smooth,” Jisung argued as they followed the touring guide into the ministry’s hall.
Both of them gasped at the rich interior they found themselves in. The ministry had been built three hundred years ago, and the amount of paintings, sculptures and overall gold and precious materials was astonishing. They walked on red carpets, exploring hallways filled with precious wooden furniture and grand flower bouquets.
The walls were so high it felt indecent knowing some people lived in the streets when ministers worked there. The contradiction of politics, right?
Following the crowd, they listened to the guide, explaining how the building was built, which important political figures had stepped foot on those same carpets, what fire had ravaged the building in 1875. But despite his interesting stories, both of them were too focused on finding the counsellor’s office to care.
Soon, they figured the first floor was the only place they were allowed to visit. But there were six floors in this immense building and they had to find a way to go up. No stairs were accessible without a badge, and the elevators were just as impenetrable.
Jisung took note of every camera watching them, knowing too well that if they were spotted, the security officers would find them in mere minutes. They had to be careful, extra careful, but Minho was just strolling around behind him, getting too close to the works of art there, observing the building and anything else but the cameras or the elevators. His attitude would eventually bring trouble, Jisung knew it.
But apart from trouble, Minho brought something else as well: an idea.
In the hall, he noticed an office worker talking to a security guard, his badge laying in front of him at the officer’s desk. The guard put it in a drawer before leaving with the man, taking out a cigarette from his pocket to smoke outside.
Minho didn’t think twice and opened the drawer to take the badge, not caring about straying from the group, not caring about the cameras, not caring about Jisung’s stressed wide eyes upon him.
He discreetly showed the badge to Jisung, a proud smile on his face as he grabbed the younger’s arm to leave the group. That was enough tourist activities for today.
“What are you doing?” Jisung glanced back at the group and the cameras, hoping they wouldn’t look suspicious, hoping the guards were on a break and not looking at their screens.
“We need to find his office, right?” he asked Jisung who nodded, still stressed. “We don’t have time, come on.”
They walked back to the main hall, heading straight to the elevators and beeping the badge, doors opening before them like pure magic. They decided to explore the floors one by one, but couldn’t separate because they only had one badge after all. Jisung estimated they only had ten to twenty minutes before the guard would eventually come back from his break, realize the badge was missing and look at the cameras to know what happened.
That wasn’t a lot of time, but that was all they got.
They walked as fast as they could without looking suspicious, exploring the second floor in a few minutes and not finding the counsellor’s office. They greeted everyone they met, the employees not caring about their presence at all. Even the security officer they met didn’t care, he saw the badge around Minho’s neck and figured they worked there. It was as simple as that. Pieces of paper secretly ruling the world.
But the ministry employed too many people, no way the security officers could remember everyone. Even though their outfits seemed a bit too casual for government workers. But again, Minho had a badge, he workedthere.
The second floor proved unsuccessful, just like the third and fourth floor, only wasting their time as Jisung could feel the guards would soon come looking for them.
They explored the fifth floor as quickly as they could, not finding anything particularly interesting, except that this floor seemed quite different than others. Felt different. There were less people wandering around, no one actually, and it felt calmer, the lights dim in the hallways. It hid secrets, Jisung knew it.
They crossed path with a first security officer, and then a second, both eyeing them up and down, doubting their presence was allowed in there. Jisung sensed it, even Minho sensed it.
So, when the officers called them, they didn’t stop to have a quick talk. Too far from the elevators, they turned into another hallway, walking fast to find an escape. But every door was closed or led to an office with someone working on some computer. Jisung could hear the security officers calling, he could feel his end coming. They would get caught, that was it.
But Minho grabbed his hoodie violently and pushed him into a closet, closing the doors as soon as he stepped inside behind the younger.
“What the fuck?” Jisung whispered angrily at him, but Minho covered his mouth to shush him, the younger forcing his hand off his face instantly. Blood boiling. Minho’s touch like stinging nettle on his skin.
They couldn’t see anything inside, and Minho had thought the closet would be bigger but among the cleaning supplies and clothes, they didn’t have a lot of room left to breathe away from each other.
Jisung tried to push Minho off him but he didn’t have space to back off so they had to stay close. Unable to see anything but pitch black, he stressed out a bit, not really liking being locked up in dark close spaces. So, grounding himself with Minho’s contact actually helped him.
Jisung breathed hard against Minho’s shoulders, their bodies so close they couldn’t avoid their chests from touching as they caught up their breaths. The two of them stayed silent, attentive to every noise in the hallways, hoping they wouldn’t be found in there.
And luckily, the guards didn’t even consider they could be inside that tiny closet. They walked past them, still calling and looking for them in other hallways. Finally, Jisung was glad that ministry was so immense.
They waited for a bit, to make sure the security officers had really left this wing of the building. Jisung’s breath had calmed down, adopting Minho’s breathing rhythm, both of their chests moving in sync, their bellies touching every time their lungs expanded. He could feel the older’s breath on his neck, his long hair brushing against his lips, the warmth of his skin against his body.
It felt like a hug, a hug Jisung desperately wanted and needed, a hug he would have killed for a few days ago. Probably the closest the two of them would ever be again.
Jisung opened the door when he felt safe enough to do so, leaving Minho’s body and his hope of a hug in the closet, the older following after, ears and cheeks blushing from their contact. It was fine in the dark, he could hide, but now in plain sight, that was another story.
“You could’ve picked a smaller room actually,” Jisung attacked Minho, still flustered by his own conflicting emotions, not looking at the blushing older.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t really have other options,” the older still apologized, following Jisung who started exploring the hallways again, choosing to forget what had happened rather than acknowledge it.
They resumed their mission, but time was ticking and they could feel their plan failing right before their eyes. Until Jisung took a turn into a hallway and saw the counsellor a few meters away in front of him. He backed up instantly, bumping into Minho’s chest.
“What’s wrong?” the older asked, confused.
“He’s there,” Jisung whispered, hiding behind the wall and taking a sneak peek into the hallway, watching the counsellor closing his office door with a key. “He’s leaving his office.”
He watched the counsellor scrolling on his phone before calling someone, leaving the hallway in the opposite direction. It was Minho and Jisung’s biggest shot yet.
They walked to his office, trying to open the door but of course, it was locked and the handle wouldn’t yield. Despite numerous efforts, Minho never managed to break the handle nor force the door open, and he was starting to look way too suspicious in the cameras.
So, Jisung took a hairpin from his pocket, stunning Minho whose eyes went wide.
“When did you get that?”
“I always carry one with me. Just in case,” Jisung explained, lowering his body to enter the hairpin into the door lock.
Less than fifteen seconds later, the door finally surrendered. They barged inside the office and looked everywhere, Minho searching through the bookcase and Jisung sitting at the desk to explore the counsellor’s computer. Session still opened from when the counsellor left his office, Jisung examined every document, searched through every e-mail to find information on the parties.
Minutes passed, and they had not found anything. Minho was looking through the desk’s drawers, next to Jisung who had found another e-mail address and was frantically searching the desk for a password. Stress at his fingertips, he knew they didn’t have time.
He passed his hands underneath the drawers until he finally felt a piece of paper stuck there, a pink note with a weird sequence of letters and numbers, too weird to not be a password. It worked when Jisung typed it in and unlocked a whole new world for him to discover. Hundreds of e-mails talking about the party. If he had brought a USB key, he could’ve copied everything to analyse for later, but he didn’t. Foolish.
He tried to sort them by looking at the word invitation, and a single e-mail popped up. He clicked on it but froze when he heard the counsellor’s faint voice in the hallway. Minho quickly went to the door, opening it slightly to take a peek outside.
Not breathing anymore, Jisung still took the opportunity to read the short e-mail, learning that the invitation cards were only sent in person, delivered through paper mail and not by e-mail. Fuck, they couldn’t steal an invitation card on his computer. They barely had a day to find an invite and he didn’t know how.
Minho closed the door again, but when Jisung looked up from the computer, he was not in the office anymore. It stressed Jisung who quickly cleaned everything and put every file Minho had opened back in their original places. He didn’t know what Minho was doing in the hallway, he had no view on the older anymore. He just hoped he wasn’t doing something stupid like –
“Mr. Counsellor?”
Like that.
Jisung stayed close to the door, ready to open it in case anything happened, ready to open it to flee or save Minho, whatever would ultimately happen depended on the older right now.
“I’ve seen you somewhere, haven’t I?” the counsellor’s deep voice resonated in the hallway, curious and amused. “The Three Pots, right?”
The name of the restaurant where they ate earlier. He remembered Minho. Fuck. He surely remembered Jisung as well then…
“That’s right,” Jisung could hear Minho’s airy voice getting further away as he walked towards the man. Right into danger.
“So, you work here? On this floor? I’ve never seen you around before,” the counsellor asked, and despite his amused and light tone, Jisung could feel he was not playing. He took too many precautions with his parties to not be on high alert all the time. Jisung still didn’t know what criminal actions he had already done, but he knew the counsellor was someone to fear, not to play with like Minho was doing so carelessly.
“I’m new here.”
“Right, that explains everything,” Jisung heard the counsellor’s laugh, it felt wrong. “What about that friend of yours you were eating with? Does he work here too?”
Jisung tensed up, his hand on the handle, ready to leave as soon as he could. He really hoped Minho wouldn’t make a mistake.
“No, no…”, Minho hesitated, at a loss for words because he never expected to talk about Jisung. “He’s –”
“Oh, are you together by any chance?” he sounded too curious, too intrusive, too nosey.
“Um, no,” Minho replied in a chuckle. “No, no, we’re just friends.”
Jisung felt it deep in his bones, that it was the wrong answer to give.
“Just friends… Marvellous,” the counsellor replied before a silence, tensing Jisung who craved to open the door to see what was happening. Having no visual was pure torture. Were they even still there? Did something happen to Minho? What weird things were going on behind that door?
“I, uh… I don’t know if I should but I have a question I want to ask you,” Minho spoke again, hesitating, and Jisung had to fight to not open the door instantly. He was setting up his own trap, how could he be so stupid?
Minho couldn’t possibly ask about the party, or about getting invited or whatever illegal thing the counsellor had going on. So, if that was related to his charms or whatever bullshit he had suggested during their lunch earlier…
“Just, not here,” his soft voice faded as Jisung didn’t hear them anymore for long seconds.
He dared open the door to find an empty hallway, guessing this was Minho’s solution to give him a way out of the office. So, he closed the door behind and walked back towards the elevator, hoping Minho was safe, that a part of him knew what he was doing.
He hoped he didn’t fall upon security again, he hoped the first-floor guard still hadn’t come back from his break, that they were not actively looking for them in the building. Twenty minutes, they had gone by quickly.
And once Jisung saw the elevator, he waited for Minho. He could feel the cameras behind him, and if he wanted to hide, he couldn’t escape. The older had taken the badge with him, and worse, he couldn’t just leave him alone in there. Honestly, Jisung wanted to find Minho, to prevent whatever danger he was currently in. But he didn’t have time to stress any more that Minho appeared in the hall, walking fast towards him.
He seemed safe and sound, no trace of a fight or blood on his face. Solely focused on leaving this floor, he beeped the badge and the elevator opened, ignoring Jisung’s worried stare on him. But once the elevator door closed, the younger released all his stress.
“What went through your head, honestly? Do you know how dangerous that was?”
“I didn’t have any choice, we had to make it out together and alive,” Minho defended, still taking back his breath a bit from the speed walking.
“He recognized you! What if something happened to you?” Jisung was losing his mind, he couldn’t comprehend why Minho was so reckless, why he never used his brain when it mattered. One day, it would bite him back. He knew it.
“Nothing happened, I’m fine,” he reassured Jisung, secretly touched by the younger’s concern, hidden behind his apparent and fierce anger.
“What did you even ask him?” he hurried to ask, noticing they were already on the second floor.
“Just how he managed to become counsellor,” Minho explained, Jisung’s nerves relaxing as his fears didn’t turn out to be true. “I needed to buy you enough time to leave his office. Nothing beats a political man speaking about his life for gaining time.”
Jisung knew Minho had to leave the hallway to create an escaping window for him, one where no one would see or hear him, but it still stressed the younger out to know Minho had been alone with that man for two full minutes. Jisung’s own voice betrayed his thoughts, because it sounded too much like he was asking something no one else should hear.
Their lunch conversation kept replaying in his head because Minho was the kind to act spontaneously and if teasing the counsellor could get Jisung out of trouble, then he would do it. He would do anything to protect Jisung and their mission, to save the younger’s life.
Once again, those trust issues. He had to force himself to trust Minho. How could Jisung be so broken by the same lies he himself used to tell?
“Nothing happened,” Minho felt Jisung drowning in his thoughts next to him as they reached the first floor. “I didn’t use my charms.”
He chuckled a bit, lightening the atmosphere as Jisung stopped his thoughts instantly, still shocked by these words.
“I hate when you say this,” he spat out as the doors opened and they were back in the main hall. Minho’s silly jokes shouldn’t hurt, and yet they did. Better forget it for now.
Good or bad news, the guard was not at his desk. Either way, they didn’t have time because they could see the touring guide leading the tourists towards the security gates to leave the building. Almost an hour had passed since they entered.
Minho put the badge back in the officer’s drawer, making sure he hadn’t been seen, before joining Jisung and pacing towards the group, ignoring the few weird looks they were getting.
They barely made it in time, joining the queue of tourists giving their passes back. They obliged as well, Minho smiling to the security guard who didn’t react, too focused on his job. They didn’t seem more alert than before, neither more vigilant.
The guard still hadn’t come back from his break, or they still hadn’t been found. Good news.
And as soon as they passed the gates, they left the opposite way of the tourists, pacing to reach their apartment as soon as possible. Exhilarated by the adrenaline, the thrill of danger kicking in their blood. Minho loved it more than Jisung, but seeing the older’s bright smile upon succeeding their plan, maybe Jisung could grow to love it as well.
They took different routes as they rushed to the subway, just in case anyone had followed them, just in case the ministry’s security had finally picked up on their trick. And once they were sitting inside the train, they finally relaxed, not saying another word until they reached the apartment.
“I can’t believe what just happened,” Jisung erupted in joy when he locked the door, finally in the safety of his home. They had entered one of the most guarded places in the country, fooled security, fooled the police. He was feeling on top of the world, unreachable, immortal. Who would’ve thought they’d succeed in their stupid plan?
“We just broke into a ministry…”
“And we went into the counsellor’s office,” Minho added, untying his shoes and dropping down onto the couch, unwinding.
“Yeah right,” Jisung chuckled, before a wave of regret hit him. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he admitted but Minho seemed confused on the couch, staring back at him with a frown.
“In the elevator,” Jisung added, hating to apologize, knowing it was the right thing to do. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you…”
Minho could only smile at the sight of his teammate, too embarrassed to hold an eye-contact, currently exploring the kitchen and getting a glass of water to distract himself from the shame burdening his heart. He probably wasn’t too used to apologizing.
“It’s okay, I understand. You were just worried.”
Minho’s arms dropped down from the couch, his head resting on the edge of the seat as he stared at Jisung in the kitchen, finishing his glass of water, still tense. The younger regretted his action, no matter if he had been worried or not… Minho had found a way to get him out of the office, risking his own life for him, and what was his reward for saving Jisung’s life? Getting yelled at in an elevator…
“I guess so,” he eventually managed to say, weakly.
“Do you believe me?”
The question came unwanted, Jisung taken aback by Minho’s soft tone, staring at the older on the couch and his sparkling eyes. That was a good question and frankly, he didn’t have an answer. That was the issue with Minho, he could look at you with the most sincere and fond eyes, but the truth eventually never escaped his lips. So, maybe he didn’t lie, maybe nothing really happened with the counsellor. But did he provoke anything that could happen in the near future? That was something else.
“Yeah…” Jisung’s voice died down, lying straight to Minho’s face. You have to understand Jisung, he didn’t lie because he wanted to. He just couldn’t explain the turmoil in his heart. He wasn’t even sure he himself understood it. If Minho wanted to get himself in danger, then why would Jisung care so much?
His answer didn’t convince Minho, but before the older could keep the conversation going, Jisung interrupted him, joining him into the living room.
“I found something on his computer,” he focused back on the mission before his emotions destroyed his heart even more.
Minho sat back up on the couch to concentrate on Jisung’s discovery, putting his questions aside for a while. Even if it hurt that Jisung still didn’t believe him despite literally saving his life today. He didn’t know what he should do to be ever trusted by the younger.
“It’s not a big thing honestly, it won’t help us,” Jisung sat next to Minho, staring at the broken lamp next to him. “The invitations are sent by mail, paper only.”
“Sucks,” Minho thought aloud, knowing they wouldn’t be able to enter a party anytime soon. It was tomorrow, they didn’t have time to find one. They didn’t even know the guests list –
Wait.
Minho was a genius, he was convinced of it. He searched his jeans pocket to grab a folded piece of paper, grinning at Jisung who couldn’t understand his enthusiasm even if he wanted to share it.
“I completely forgot I had this,” he unfolded the paper in front of Jisung’s curious stare.
“What is it?” he tried to get a look at the words written before Minho handed him the sheet, huge grin on his face.
“I found a list in the counsellor’s office, with a lot of names. I thought it could be important so I kept it… I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the guest list.”
Jisung’s eyes went wide at the implications, grabbing the sheet and looking for himself. Dozens and dozens of names were written there, Minho had to be right. Oh, he was a genius, he was brilliant actually.
Now they just needed a plan to steal one of these invitations to go to the party tomorrow. Investigate on each guest, figuring out where they lived, what they did, whose house they could infiltrate to steal the invitation card without risking too much. All of that for tomorrow… Jisung wanted to be optimistic, but they lacked time. They couldn’t act tomorrow, not that way.
What if they managed to steal an invitation card but were rejected because they still cared about the names of the guests or asked for official documents to prove identity? What if the guest they stole the invitation card from called the counsellor? Would their cover be screwed before even stepping foot inside the mansion?
“We’ll find a way,” Minho reassured him, noticing his worrying state. “We just have to join his gardening or cleaning team, whatever.”
He chuckled, and Jisung couldn’t help but chuckle too. That might not be the stupidest idea of them all...
Chapter Text
Jisung spent all Monday finding a solution to infiltrate the party, not knowing when their next opportunity would eventually come; they had to find a way, no matter the cost. Developing Minho’s idea, and after extensive searches, he found out the name of the catering company hired by the counsellor. That was their best option, passing themselves for waiters and serving toasts to explore the mansion.
Jisung looked through his clothes in hopes of finding an outfit that would match the other waiters, his only references pictures taken from the company’s website. A black shirt would do, add on to that some nice pants and a black tie, he would be perfect. But he didn’t have two outfits, he couldn’t lend one to Minho, and he didn’t know if the older had the necessary clothes in his closet.
Not losing any time, he messaged the older, explaining his plan and asking access to his room, which Minho granted a few minutes later, not remembering if he even had a black shirt to begin with. And if Jisung had to go buy one for him, they couldn’t lose time.
But Jisung’s hand remained stuck on the handle for a bit, unsure whether to open that door or not. After all, they had always respected each other’s spaces, and it suddenly felt intimate to navigate through Minho’s private space. But Jisung didn’t have time to hesitate, it was already late in the afternoon and they had to be at the counsellor’s mansion in less than two hours. He didn’t know what to expect, he just hoped it was at least clean, that he wouldn’t fall upon something he would have rather ignored.
So, he slowly entered the room, surprised by the overall cleanliness and organization. Unlike him, no clothes were hanging around, his bed was made and the light that entered the window illuminated the already bright room, white sheets reflecting the sunrays everywhere. Jisung immediately rushed to the closet to not take a look anywhere else, conscientious to not trespass any boundaries.
He opened Minho’s closet, just as clean as the rest of the room. That would be easier to find what he was looking for. It still felt intrusive to look through the older’s shirts and pants, pondering on what would make the best waiter look on him. But he had so many nice clothes, somewhat simple and timeless, even if Jisung could still see t-shirts with cat drawings on them here and there. And it made him smile a bit, his love for cats was not a lie, that’s for sure.
He opened the drawers to look for a tie as well, and if he hadn’t got any, he could just lend him one. But he still searched for a while through his socks and boxers. It felt weird, intimate, intrusive. Like he shouldn’t be searching through those when he had been so furious at the older just two days ago, like he somewhat didn’t deserve to share this intimacy with Minho.
Maybe one day, he would forgive himself for hitting Minho. Maybe one day, he would try and swallow all the anger he ever felt and love Minho for who he is again. One can only dream, right?
After picking a matching outfit to his, Jisung closed the closet again, but still couldn’t help his curiosity. He observed the room from where he was standing, not daring to move any closer to Minho’s private stuff.
He looked at his bedside table, his phone charger and a manga on top of it, the half-empty bottle of water next to his bed, his bow on the floor, next to a few paint brushes and some lacquer. Jisung could still see the deep scratches in the wood, knowing he was the cause, knowing it probably had hurt Minho to pick up his bow completely damaged. The arrows were not far away, waiting on his desk next to some glue and new red feathers.
Various trophies and medals stood proud on a shelf above his desk, adding a touch of gold on the wall. Jisung laid eyes on an archery competition poster glued next to them. The competition was scheduled for Monday next week. Maybe Minho would go there.
His bedroom was his little workshop, where he fixed his material and crafted new ones. To think Jisung had been sleeping next to the truth, barely a few meters away actually… He saw Minho’s regular bow and arrows, the ones he used at university, the con artist to his fake life. And before keeping his thorough observations an everlasting secret, Jisung took one last look at the room but noticed a long bump underneath the bed sheets.
Don’t go take a look…
His intrusive thoughts winning over his brain, he walked forwards with little steps, as if he would get caught at any moment, knowing he was completely trespassing boundaries. But he needed to know, Minho wouldn’t tell him the truth anyways. He pulled on the sheets to uncover a pink body pillow, big enough to cuddle though the night.
Now, that was cute. Jisung couldn’t stop his hand from touching the fabric, the extra soft material tempting him from caressing the pillow for longer, put his head against it to feel the softness on his skin. But he resisted and eventually put the sheets back in place, his heart fond for a man who slept with a soft body pillow all night long.
That cute side of him hadn’t left at least.
After losing too much time in the older’s room, he packed their clothes into his bag and quickly left the apartment, grabbing a spare helmet for Minho. His motorcycle roared towards Minho, arriving right on time to pick up the older leaving the university gates.
Minho waved at Jisung with a bright smile and joined him, putting on the spare helmet under a few students’ stares. Either because Jisung’s motorcycle was exceptionally beautiful, or because Minho never hung out with anybody and they all thought he was a loner who didn’t engage in any human relationships.
Anyways, Jisung couldn’t care less about them, he just didn’t want to draw attention any longer. As soon as he felt Minho’s hands around his waist and his legs behind him, he left hurriedly, taking them away from the prying stares.
He took the fastest route out of Seoul and to the mansion, accelerating everywhere he knew police weren’t controlling speed limits. His phone indicated a thirty-seven-minute ride, he made it in twenty-four.
He slowed down when he left the forest and approached the counsellor’s mansion, noticing a few vans with the catering company logo printed onto them entering, probably full of food and utensils. They were arriving, and they couldn’t lose any time.
Of course, the mansion was in the middle of a wide domain, constricted within high stone walls and a large metal gate, constantly guarded by two armed men. He couldn’t even see where the path past the gates led because the domain was just too vast.
But they couldn’t lose time, so he accelerated and entered into the forest next to the domain, driving as close to the walls as he could and hiding his motorcycle there behind a large bush. They left the helmets on the ground and ran around the walls in hopes of finding a tree sturdy enough to climb safely.
And after a few minutes of nervous searching, Minho spotted one and instantly climbed it, followed by Jisung who kept up with the older’s fast pace, soon reaching higher than the walls and getting a clearer view of the domain.
They had gotten closer to the main house, the lights and exterior decorations showing the way. Still probably a mile away from it, at least they could enter the property and run from there. No guest seemed to have arrived yet. It was their shot.
Minho carefully walked on the branch, hanging down from it to safely reach the top of the wall. He didn’t notice any guard so he gestured Jisung to follow, the two of them now walking as fast as possible on top of the wall.
But no trees were close enough on the other side to allow them to get down safely. Minho didn’t think twice, he jumped the four meters high wall, rolling onto the ground once he reached it. Jisung sighed, he hated his idea. Still, he didn’t have a better one.
He threw his bag to the ground and himself right after, falling less elegantly than Minho, staining his jeans in the grass. Minho chuckled a bit, the younger shushed him up just as fast.
They ran to the mansion, hiding behind large trunks when they were close enough to the guards. But the men were too busy organizing themselves into teams to welcome the guests. They knew they were coming into dangerous territory, but when they saw more than thirty guards in the court, Jisung and Minho realized just how dangerous their mission really was.
150 million… 150 million…
They changed outfits behind the trees when they noticed a waiter dressed in black clothes. Jisung had seen the photos on their website, he had guessed they would dress exactly as usual, and he had been right.
Disclosing their old clothes in the bag, Jisung hid it in a bush, still taking the time to grab his gun and two knives, handing one to Minho. The older kept his sigh to himself; he didn’t have his bow, didn’t take any other weapon this morning. He had to fight with a simple knife and it wasn’t his strong suit at all. He really hated it. No choice anyways.
They hid their weapons and ran around the mansion to find a safe way inside. There weren’t a lot of people or guards next to the pool behind the house, so they tried it.
Noticing two waiters smoking a cigarette there, they sneaked behind them as soon as they headed back inside the house. Grabbing the wooden door before it closed, they entered the mansion without any idea of what they would find behind the door.
The light reflecting on the marble floor almost blinded them compared to the dark blue sky outside, the sun now disappearing behind the clouds and the Earth. It probably was the richest house Jisung had stepped foot in. The long hallways were empty but for a few contemporary sculptures and modern paintings that he couldn’t understand even if he tried.
They were going to kill that man for 150 million when stealing one of those paintings would earn them more… Maybe they could do both. Great idea to ponder.
Jisung noticed the few cameras at the angles of the ceiling, watching their every movement. Unlike at the ministry, the security guards surely took their jobs extremely seriously here. They couldn’t make a singular mistake. This time, they wouldn’t be confronted by the police, but by a gun directly.
Still without uttering a single word, they followed the two waiters in another less luxurious hallway where they could hear sounds of a busy kitchen, packed with people working, cooking, and ordering others loudly.
“The guests will be here in five minutes, last check right now!”
The waiters entered the kitchen as Jisung and Minho paced to follow them, entering the room and finding themselves behind a group of more than twenty waiters, all dressed like them. Reassuring thought. They stayed there as the chef was staring at the group, ready to deliver his speech.
“Tonight, I want excellence everyone. Tighten your neckties and adjust your shirts, you’re not allowed any mistakes. This is not our first time here, you know how it works. Don’t talk back to the guests, stay in your lane and don’t draw attention to yourself. You do not exist here tonight, alright?”
“Yes chef!” the entire group screamed in unison, proceeding to clean up their outfits, smoothening the fabric and stretching to prepare themselves for an entire night of service.
Jisung and Minho looked at each other, mimicking the others, noticing their own outfits were wrinkled from being in Jisung’s bag. Nothing they could do about it but pray no one would notice.
A few minutes passed and the chef called everyone back, starting the service as soon as the first guests arrived. The waiters formed a line to grab the wooden trays, all filled with extravagant and delicate food. Toasts of expensive seafood, sculpted fruits over rare cheeses and too many emulsions to even remember what ingredients were in each tiny white bowl.
Jisung grabbed his tray under the chef’s stare, not knowing if he found his presence suspicious or if he just didn’t like his wrinkled outfit. But he would never know the answer because he had to follow the group to bring the rather heavy tray to the guests.
Followed by Minho, they formed a line with the other waiters, heading towards the main hall, the sound of pop music slowly reaching their ears.
Their mission finally started now. They just had to find the perfect occasion, and then they would strike. And hopefully make it out alive considering the number of security guards in the hall. Jisung could count at least fifteen guards in this room only, one around each high window that surrounded the main hall.
A few guests had already arrived, all dressed as elegantly as one could. Long designer dresses, tailored suits and fancy makeup, it looked more like a fashion competition than a regular party. Many guests had unique outfits, varying in colour or shapes to provoke reactions, to be the one shining the most, to be the best dressed. Leaving an impression, living for impressions. Superficial lives of privileged morons.
The guests didn’t have to wait more than a minute before waiters rushed to them, trays in hand for them to grab a champagne flute and some seafood toasts. But please, do not expect an ounce of acknowledgement from them.
As more and more guests arrived, Jisung took note of the camera placements, of the security organization, how often the guards switched spots, what their main concerns were, what they looked at the most.
And their plan all seemed promising, because the guards couldn’t care less about the waiters and were only focused on the guests, especially the ones who drank a lot. And well, it almost felt as if champagne was free in a place like this. The guests were there to have fun, to meet their kind, to speak with their kind. They didn’t care about the outside world; the world didn’t even know of their presence here. The unspoken millionaires and billionaires ruling the world, hidden meeting in plain sight.
Jisung walked among the crowd, his tray emptying at an alarming pace, so fast he couldn’t gather any information from the guests apart from their shopping adventures and the health status of their children. Not staying long enough to go past the weather-level conversations.
He went back to the kitchen to refill his tray, the kitchen boiling with many new preparations undergoing. He almost collided with another waiter, but avoided her and joined the hall again in less than a minute. He quickly looked for Minho to make sure he was alright as the older was wandering amidst the crowd as well, listening to the conversations, just like Jisung.
Their undercover mission was going smoothly, apart from one fact. They still hadn’t seen the counsellor. Jisung didn’t know where he was, if he was even here, but the two guards standing in front of the door leading to the East wing of the mansion surely meant something.
He kept a discreet eye on the East wing door and walked among the guests again, the hall filled with a swarming crowd of high heels and already half-drunk people. And the more he wandered, the more conversations he could hear. And the more it made his blood turn cold.
“She died for nothing,” he heard one guest say, a man in his fifties.
“But our stocks went up twenty-six percent after your men deleted that poor girl,” another answered in a chuckle, about the same age. He sipped his champagne, not caring about admitting a crime to the world. But they were protected in this luxurious house. Once again, the world didn’t know where they were, or what they did. They already got culprits in jail for that.
“But I expected them to go up to forty percent so I’m a bit disappointed,” he chuckled as well, enough to make Jisung want to throw up. Sure, he was an assassin, he was not a morale example. But he always chose his targets because they brought evil to the world. The idea of innocent people dying and not receiving justice, turning into a laughing stock for those millionaires, an anecdote you told your guests at a dinner table to earn a good laugh. Revolting.
“We already talked about it last week and I still think you shouldn’t pass this bill,” he heard two other men talk behind him. “The entire country will be affected. We will have to raise our prices, you know how the pharmaceutical field works.”
“Yes, but it’s a matter of national crisis. This component is dangerous for the brain tissues-”
“We need it. Otherwise, we’ll have to raise our prices by at least thirty percent. I’m sure people won’t like that so much and your political campaign will not recover from it…”
Once again. Revolting.
Almost everyone in this room deserved to die, all too blinded by their own selfish interests and not caring about the rest of the world, about anyone unfortunately depending on them making the decisions and providing solutions to the problems they themselves caused. All for profit, all this time. Sick world we live in, right?
Jisung focused back on his original mission before he lost his cover and punched someone, approaching Minho too busy explaining the few toasts remaining on his tray to a drunk woman to realize Jisung had closed in on him. And once she let him go, Jisung reached him, keeping his voice low.
“I don’t know where the counsellor is, but I’m sure it’s behind this door,” he looked towards the two guards, Minho following his eyes.
“I think we should split up. When your tray is empty, go back to the hallways but explore the house to locate him instead of returning to the kitchen. I’ll stay here and keep waiting for him in case.”
Minho nodded and they separated again, not daring to draw more attention onto them. And less than a minute later, Jisung saw Minho leave towards the hallway, executing the plan. He hoped he found the counsellor soon, he didn’t want to stay there any more than needed. He hated those people.
Minho explored as much as he could without bumping into any guards, all too focused on the guests to properly protect the house. But he didn’t find anything interesting in the different rooms he found. Bedrooms, bathrooms, offices, a gym, a billiard room … But no counsellor. He could feel his heart rushing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
He just wanted to find that guy, to put a bullet through his head and get 150 million for it. The biggest mission he ever did surely, the one that would finally give him the money he needed, securing the freedom he desired.
So, if the counsellor was in the East wing, he had to join it from the inside before anyone else did. He needed the money, he couldn’t risk losing this contract to anyone.
In the hall, Jisung was getting overwhelmed by his emotions, the knife in his pocket threatening to come out and slice everyone’s throat. How could they be so inconsiderate and self-centred? Even in between them, they never stopped this endless cycle of selfishness.
But finally, he saw him. The counsellor exiting his private wing with another man, shaking hands, one hand on the other man’s shoulder. They surely had secured a very nice deal. Surely centred around the country’s best interests…
He observed the counsellor wandering around, greeting his guests, a wide grin on his face. But the door to his private wing was still guarded, and Jisung couldn’t possibly force his way inside without being noticed. He hoped Minho found another way.
The counsellor was getting dangerously close to him, and Jisung felt uneasy, scared that he would be recognized. And if he did, he could never kill him in front of everyone, with all those guards around. No, this had to happen somewhere private, somewhere desert. His private wing was the perfect example. It was guarded, no one expected danger inside if they prevented it from entering.
Jisung had to find a way inside, he had to find Minho.
Not caring much about his still half-full tray, he went back to the hallways, putting his tray on the first table he found and quickly exploring around, ignoring the chef motivating his troupes back in the kitchen, calling for new toasts to be brought. He was glad he escaped that hell.
Not knowing he jumped straight into another one.
He crossed paths with Minho coming down from the second floor, walking as fast as he could, smiling upon seeing Jisung.
“I found a way inside,” he said proudly, Jisung’s eyes becoming wide at his success. He was really a genius.
They went up the second floor, Jisung diligently following Minho and not questioning too much whether they would fall upon security guards. He decided to trust Minho completely, he owed him that.
Their trip on the second floor ended a few minutes later, going back down to meet a closed wooden door. Another one. Jisung tried to open it, in vain. He couldn’t understand where Minho was leading them, except into another dead end.
Minho took a hairpin from his pocket, smirking at Jisung who rolled his eyes at the older’s attitude, caring more about the few cameras observing them wherever they were than Minho’s little pride.
“I wanted to open it with you, I don’t know what’s on the other side,” the older explained as he unlocked the door quickly enough to surprise Jisung of his abilities. “It might be a trap.”
It raised Jisung’s stress at the highest level, fearing his life would end as soon as he took another step forward, the vision of Minho’s hand slowly pushing onto the handle like pure torture.
But the door led to a similar hallway, empty and quiet, contrasting with the rest of the house blasting with whatever upbeat pop song the DJ had chosen. The East wing, finally. They explored the wing slowly, alert to every sound, every movement. But nothing happened. As Jisung had hoped, they didn’t expect danger to come from the inside.
No cameras had been installed in this wing, surely to protect the illegal activities the guests had going on there, Jisung thought. He was right.
They opened every door, but each room was as insipid as the unprotected ones. Apart from being a quiet killing spot, they didn’t help them much in their exploration.
But when they fell upon the only closed door of the hallway, they knew everything they were looking for was locked inside.
Minho used his hairpin again, unlocking the door in a few seconds as Jisung looked around, making sure no one had seen them. Negative, they were safe.
They entered the counsellor’s office, two coffee cups still warm on the table where he had been making a deal with that other man a dozen minutes ago. The cushions looked so comfortable, and the bookshelves were filled with so many historical and classic literature books, it almost made Jisung forget that educated people could also be horrible to others.
“Funny,” Minho commented, holding a book in his hands, the cover reading “Fascism: a tale of cycles”.
“Yeah funny…” Jisung joined his sarcasm, the government and the world falling every day closer to fascism. Now he was convinced the counsellor hadn’t read those books, or maybe worse, he had learned from them.
And as their exploration got going, the chef’s anger reached new levels in the kitchen. He noticed their absence, two trays missing to bring the new toasts to the hall. One of the waiters mentioned a tray abandoned further up the hallway, and it annoyed the chef so much he called the head of security with the house’s cable phone.
“I have two waiters missing, do you know where they are? I’ll get them to kick their ass myself, don’t worry.”
But the answer came back negative, displeasing the chef, alerting the security at the same time. The head of security instantly informed the guard watching the security cameras, asking him to find them.
Two minutes later, he had the footage of Jisung leaving his tray on the table, of him joining Minho and going upstairs. He informed the head of security again who knew the counsellor would hate him for it, but he had to notify him as well. So, he discreetly walked behind him, whispering into his ears.
“Two of the waiters left their positions to explore the second floor.”
The counsellor kept smiling to his guests, not caring much about two waiters, no matter what his head of security thought. They couldn’t hurt him.
“What’s your command?”
“Just bring them to me, we’ll talk in my office,” he kept the conversation going with his business friends, the head of security ordering a few of his officers to find them.
“They entered the East wing,” he heard in his in-ear. “I don’t see them on the cameras anymore afterwards.”
And so, the head of security directed the guards towards the East wing, the threat becoming way more important suddenly. And they didn’t care about a secret way inside, they unlocked the main door to find the intruders as quickly as possible.
Jisung and Minho were reading the document the counsellor had talked about with the man he shook hands with, who was none other than the CEO of the biggest steel corporation of the country. Written with black ink on white paper, it was a detailed annual report coming from his company. Of revenues, stocks and death tolls in their mines.
The number took Jisung’s breath away, so many lives lost and for what? Because of their negligence, because of their hunger for profit? The death tolls had two different numbers, a red one written with a pen next to the official ones. They had decided on a new number to publish, to protect their evil deeds. Thousands of deaths reduced to barely twenty-seven. How disrespectful. How disgusting.
Minho turned the page because Jisung was getting too angry at the numbers to do anything else. The shareholders proportions interested him, noticing the high percentage from the counsellor, more than thirty-five percent. That explained a lot. That explained everything about their meeting actually. That was where his money came from, exploitation of resources. Material. Human. Once again, another multi-millionaire who didn’t care about lost lives if that meant he was getting richer from it.
But all raging anger and sheer disgust was wiped away from Jisung’s brain as soon as he heard footsteps coming from the hallway. The guards!? Were they coming for them?
Listening at the door, they heard the echoes of their footsteps far away from the office. They looked around, but they couldn’t hide anywhere in here, they had to get back to the kitchen before the guards found them in the restricted wing, especially in the restricted counsellor’s office with the report in their hands.
So, Minho slowly opened the door, observing outside to find nothing but an empty hallway. They didn’t have much time so he gestured Jisung to come out quickly.
“Hey! You!” a guard saw them, instantly informing the others via his walkie-talkie of their location.
“Oh my god, run,” Jisung told Minho as they went back to the door they came from.
The guard ran after them, soon followed by two other guards. Jisung burst the door opened, running up the stairs as Minho followed him, looking behind to see where the guards were. Close. Too close.
Jisung couldn’t even reach the descending stairs that two security guards blocked his way, and ran towards him. He turned to the hallway on his right, hoping Minho was following him because he didn’t dare look back anymore. They had to get out of here before the guards caught them, or worse killed them.
But five men were now running behind him, and despite exploring the entire floor, he didn’t find any way outside.
Or maybe… The second floor wasn’t too high, maybe he could jump from a window.
The guards were pulling the guns off their belts, aiming at Jisung who didn’t know anything they were doing. His eyes were fixed on the window in front of him, and the pool beneath.
Too scared to think twice, he jumped through the window before the guards could shoot, surprising them as they observed him getting out of the pool, completely drenched. They shot in the night but Jisung quickly hid behind a tree where they couldn’t see him anymore. And he knew he didn’t have much time before they all explored the garden and the park.
But what about Minho? The pool was empty, Jisung didn’t hear anyone jumping after him. Where was he? Did he follow him or did they catch him?
He couldn’t wait for him, he couldn’t do it, fuck…
He ran again as silently as possible, hearing the guards stepping outside the mansion at the same time. He sprinted back to his bag, taking it before running alongside the walls, praying to find a tree close enough to allow him to escape. Curse those trees, and curse the gardener that planted them way too far.
The guards didn’t seem to have picked up on his trace but he could see their torches frantically searching through the night for him. He really hoped Minho was safe.
“Hey!”
Jisung heard the gunshots before the man yelling. He picked up his pace, knowing they were now running after him, and armed with guns. He couldn’t possibly use his own now, it had been drenched in the pool.
But he finally found a tree close enough to the wall and climbed it despite his drenched clothes and how cold and wet he felt in the night. He escalated the branch as fast as he could but the guards were underneath him on the ground, shooting towards him.
He dodged a bullet, and then another one, jumping onto the wall and not caring about breaking a bone on the other side. He jumped to the ground, grunting a bit in pain as his ankles suddenly absorbed all his weight.
Still, Jisung ran for his life, desperately trying to find his motorcycle in the dark. He could hear the guards running and yelling on the other side of the wall, fuck how far did he park it?
Until he saw the moonlight reflecting on the handlebar, and he could finally think about coming alive out of there in one piece. Panting hard, he put on his helmet with trembling hands, having trouble to see properly in the night. His foot stumbled upon Minho’s helmet. Where the fuck was he?!
He listened to the night carefully in hopes of hearing the older’s voice, tried to see if he was running towards him in the dark but nothing came apart the guards closing by. Jisung didn’t have time for Minho, he wished he had. But he could only hope for the best for him now. So, he started the engine and drove into the night, getting far away from danger and from Minho, scared about his own survival too much to do anything but pray for the older.
He’s resourceful, you’ve seen it. He’ll make it.
Jisung tried to convince himself for the entire journey back, but until he saw Minho in flesh and bones, he couldn’t be sure. He could never be sure.
Unable to stay still in the apartment, Jisung walked around, hoping the more steps he took, the more he could dilute the stress eating him alive. His eyes alternated between the clock on the wall and his phone, no messages as time passed by and he couldn’t do anything about it.
It had already been two hours since Jisung arrived at the apartment, and Minho still hadn’t shown any sign of life. He ignored if he had escaped, he ignored how he could actually come back here since he had taken the motorcycle for himself. Jisung thought of the worst, and yet his mind reminded him that death wasn’t always the worst that could happen.
What if he got captured and hurt? What if the counsellor was having his way with him? He still remembered the way he had talked to Minho in the ministry, the way he had stared at him at the restaurant. The intrusive thoughts, he had to lock them out.
Guilt.
Flowing in his veins, screaming at Jisung that he had abandoned Minho to his fate. That he should have called his name, that he should have turned around to check he was still behind when the guards pursued them. He should have waited for him, one more second, ten more seconds. He could’ve come back to the house a few minutes later to check, he didn’t.
Jisung had grabbed his bag, had taken both of their clothes and possessions, Minho only had his phone and a knife to save himself. The idea of Minho barely escaping the house, maybe hurt, desperately looking for Jisung, screaming his name in vain as he stumbled upon his helmet, the motorcycle long gone into the night. It destroyed Jisung.
He sniffled, a tear rolling down his eyes. All that anger he could’ve felt towards Minho before, the wishes of never sharing anything about his life with him ever again, of never trusting the older anymore and pushing him away. He realized just how wrong he was. You never realize what you have until you lose it as they say. Yesterday, Jisung could’ve wished to never see Minho again, but now, he desperately needed to see his face. To know that he was okay.
He never should have been so cold and aggressive towards him if he knew they were to part ways so soon. Risks of the job, right? No, that wasn’t true. He was alive, somewhere. He had to be.
Through teary eyes, Jisung looked at the time again. Almost 3 in the morning. He had escaped the house three hours ago now… He should go back, he should go and find Minho himself. He should make up for his mistakes, for his fear, for his selfishness. Not caring about other’s lives but his own, what he had accused Minho of, that was yet another lie. Minho had never been that way; Jisung was. And the older was but a mirror reflecting his deepest regrets and flaws. He didn’t hate Minho nor what he did to him, he hated himself for being everything he despised in this god-forsaken world.
He thought back about everything they had been through, of their first time meeting each other when Minho visited the apartment, of their overlapping meal times, of Minho taking off his helmet that night, of him choking the older against the wall. Jisung could still feel his body warmth when they were hiding in the closet at the ministry, and the shape of his lips drawing him near as he applied lotion on his bruise in the bathroom.
He would give everything to be close to Minho right now.
Jisung didn’t believe in any god, he couldn’t when he saw what the world was becoming and the corruption of mankind deep at his core. He was not an example to follow either. But that night, in the quiet of the living room, the ticking clock a permanent reminder of Minho’s absence, he prayed.
He didn’t know how to so he based himself off movies he had seen before. And he just asked for one simple thing, for Minho to make it out alive. Not to see him, not to be forgiven, just for his life to be spared.
But wiping his tears didn’t do much for Jisung’s aching heart… He had left Minho behind, and just like hitting him before, he couldn’t forgive himself.
But he couldn’t wait upon gods to decide for his or Minho’s life, he had to go and find the older himself. He had to. So, he put on his shoes with trembling fingers, scared that he would never find the answer he was looking for, scared that he would never find Minho again.
Until knocks were heard on the front door. Jisung froze, hoping it was Minho, scared that it could be worse. If they had captured him and he had told them where he lived, then Jisung was in danger.
So, he grabbed his gun and opened the door slowly, one finger on the trigger just in case. But he never used it.
Minho was panting on the other side, face scarlet and sweating from running all across Seoul. They locked eyes as Jisung dropped the gun to the ground, opening the door wide for Minho to come in quickly.
“Oh my god, Minho…”
He observed the older as he entered and took out his shoes, groaning a bit in pain doing so. He still had the waiter clothes on and, knowing how cold the night was, he probably needed warmth right now. But he didn’t look hurt; he had no bruises, nor cuts anywhere. Finally, some good news.
Jisung didn’t dare speak for a while, too scared to say something that might make Minho notice him, that might make him remember why he was back so late, that he had been abandoned by Jisung and that the younger deserved to be hated for what he did. Jisung expected his anger, maybe he needed it as well.
But Minho’s eyes, despite being tired, were still gentle and sweet towards him, though a bit confused at Jisung’s feet. Why was he wearing only one shoe?
“Are you going somewhere?” he asked now that he had caught up his breath, earning Jisung a few seconds of blinking before slowly following Minho’s eyes looking at his shoes.
“I don’t know…” Jisung managed to say weakly, trying to contain the tears and not be a pathetic mess in front of Minho. But he thought he had lost him; the emotions were too big to contain.
“Are you okay?” his voice trembled a bit, enough to be heard by his own ears, enough to worry Minho.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassured the younger, concerned that he was just staring at his feet, sniffling here and there, his chest moving up and down a bit erratically. Was he… crying?
“Hey Jisung, I’m fine I promise,” Minho tried to give a reassuring smile to the younger, only looking back at him when Minho gently stroked his shoulder to bring his attention back on him.
His eyes were puffy and his eyelashes wet, he looked small in front of Minho, so terribly small. He wanted to hide, to disappear and drown. Everything but sob in front of the older. But Minho was still gentle, still understanding, not withholding an ounce of hatred or revenge in his heart. Jisung was sure Minho was a better person than him then.
Jisung’s state worried Minho. Was it the drop in adrenaline after the mission? Did something happen to Jisung when they parted ways? Did he need help? Was he hurt?
“What’s wrong?” his voice sounded concerned now, facing the younger’s weeping state. Jisung was struggling against himself to bottle everything inside, but Minho didn’t care about him being weak or pathetic or anything Jisung would describe himself as. He only cared about his well-being. And the sobs the younger trapped in his throat, he wanted to release them. To ease his pain.
“Jisung, you can speak to me…” he tried again as the younger felt a tear rolling down his cheek, his barrier progressively falling down in front of Minho. “Are you hurt?”
Minho observed him from head to toe to find any injury but Jisung shook his head no, so he trusted him. But why didn’t Jisung stop crying? Minho had never seen him cry ever since he had rented the apartment, he always had everything under control, especially his emotions. What was wrong? Couldn’t Minho do anything for him right now?
“I… I thought I lost you…” Jisung squeaked as he admitted the truth, the warm tears now falling without end.
Minho would have hugged him without hesitation if Jisung hadn’t shown so much anger towards him recently. But he didn’t know what gestures the younger would accept or not, if a contact would enrage or relieve him. But Jisung looked so vulnerable in front of him, shaking and sobbing, he only wished to put his arms around his shoulders and show him how much he cared. That he was not alone, that whatever happened wasn’t his fault.
“I’m right here,” he settled for a gentle pat on the younger’s shoulder but Jisung couldn’t act anymore. He needed Minho, desperately.
So, Jisung hugged him, holding Minho tightly as the older froze for a second, surprised of his gesture. He thought Jisung despised him and only teamed up with him because of the promised money, but what was this?
How bad could it be for Jisung to tug onto his shirt as desperately as possible, sobbing loudly into his chest, whines and whimpers escaping his mouth as he struggled to catch his breath? This tiny human being grasping onto him like his life depended on it.
“I’m sorry…” Jisung cried out, his tears wetting the older’s shirt. “I’m sorry f-for everything…”
Minho couldn’t take it anymore and hugged him back, his arms wrapping around the younger’s shoulders, Jisung’s head buried in his neck. Minho engulfed him in all the warmth and love he could muster, feeling Jisung’s erratic chest against his as he gasped again and again, drowning in tears.
“I… I’m s-sorry for… abandoning y-you,” he blurted out against his shoulder, and it broke Minho’s heart.
“Hey, you didn’t abandon me. You had to save yourself, I understand.”
But it wasn’t enough for Jisung. Drowned by overwhelming guilt, his brain had stopped working, and it had decided to pour out everything that troubled his heart, everything that had led him to cry into Minho’s arms tonight.
“I’m sorry I was mean to you. I’m sorry I hit you,” he broke down even more, holding onto Minho when his legs threatened to give up. But the older was there for him, pulling him tighter and gently stroking his hair to calm him down.
“I’m sorry we never ate together, I’m sorry I never thanked you for the morning coffee, I’m sorry I never tried to be a friend…”
Minho rested his own head against Jisung’s, keeping silent to let the younger speak his thoughts, but his apology had turned into a never-ending sob, and Jisung couldn’t speak another word but cry, even if Minho’s gentle strokes in his hair soothed him.
“You don’t have to be sorry for dealing with your own emotions. I was never angry at you, I just couldn’t understand,” he explained to Jisung who could feel the older’s hand on his back, slowly rubbing towards his waist. It sent shivers down Jisung’s spine, it calmed his crying down.
“I never took it personally. I assumed you had to figure it out yourself before we could talk. I’m just sad it’s making you cry.”
Minho pulled away a bit just as Jisung had gotten used to his warmth surrounding him, to the feeling of his skin against his own, to Minho’s chest moving up and down in a repetitive and calm rhythm to soothe him.
Minho couldn’t help but gaze fondly at the younger beneath him, his eyes red and glistening with tears, distressed and remorseful. And Jisung couldn’t help but stare back at him, his soft eyes comforting him without the need for words.
Minho didn’t reject but embraced him. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t feel betrayed by his actions. Jisung thought he didn’t deserve him. Couldn’t Minho see how horribly Jisung had treated him?
“How did you come back here?” he spoke with a faint voice, unable to take his eyes off the older, still in his embrace.
“I ran until I found a car willing to take me back to Seoul. And then I ran again.”
Jisung’s tears came back to wet his eyes, guilt once again overtaking anything else in his mind. And Minho could see it.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung apologized one more time and looked down but Minho brought his attention back, gently stroking his hair again.
“Don’t be. We’re both alive, that’s the only thing that matters,” he smiled as Jisung plunged back into his soft stare, trusting everything he said. And he felt Minho’s heartbeat quicken through his chest when their eyes met, and he could still feel the older’s hand stroking his hair.
The last time they were this close, Jisung was applying lotion to Minho’s bruise in the bathroom, and now Minho was the one to protect Jisung and help him.
“I’m glad you’re in my arms right now,” Minho smiled at Jisung, the younger’s cheeks blushing a bit, though it was hard to notice with the redness his tears had already brought to his face.
Minho wiped the tear rolling down Jisung’s cheek away with his thumb, smiling fondly at the younger. Their faces barely a few inches apart, Jisung’s eyes drifted from Minho’s eyes to his mouth, and without thinking twice, he reached towards him, kissing his lips as tenderly as a desperate man could manage.
Minho was his mirror, Minho was his meaning. He listened, he didn’t judge, and he cared, tried to understand. He made Jisung feel at home in a world that didn’t want him, in a world too cruel to grant him a normal life like anyone else.
Maybe he wasn’t destined to a normal life, but maybe Minho could become the long-awaited normality of his existence.
A fleeting touch. A brief second where their lips connected and Jisung kissed Minho, exposing his feelings, vulnerabilities and emotions to the older. Leaving the truth of his heart at the tip of his lips.
And when he left the softness of Minho’s mouth, he found his shocked face staring at him, cheeks and ears red. And he didn’t say anything, didn’t kiss him back, didn’t move his hands on Jisung anymore. Frozen, his hold had loosened the second Jisung’s lips had touched his, and now the younger panicked.
It was a wrong idea.
Why did he even do that? He thought Minho liked him back, he thought his touches meant something. His fond gaze, his gentle smile, his hand on his waist, the comfort of his embrace. Honestly, Jisung wasn’t even sure why he had kissed him, just that they were close and he had been getting closer and closer to Minho for weeks now, the past few days and misleading anger had just delayed the kiss they were supposed to have before in their shared bathroom.
Or so, Jisung thought.
Mortified, he left Minho’s embrace, the older still troubled by his lips, but now Jisung felt a lump in his throat, a ball of embarrassment and shame and sadness scratching at his throat and chest, threatening to choke him.
“I’m sorry I don’t know why I did that…” he spoke fast, not daring to look back at Minho, the older finally moving again and looking around to disperse his strong emotions. Why was he so hot suddenly?
“No, no, I… It’s fine, don’t worry…”
It was not fine.
But what did Jisung expect? Before he had let rage rot in his heart, they had been so close to kissing each other, to fully embracing and confessing their attraction to the other. But he had kept pushing Minho away and demeaning him, he couldn’t expect the older to just go back to the way it was before.
Maybe Minho was not angry at him, that didn’t mean Jisung’s actions didn’t permanently scar his heart, a wound that would probably never heal, leaving Jisung with the devastating consequences of his own wounding actions. He had ruined everything once again, every ounce of happiness showing at his doorstep was kicked away violently. He was alone, just like before. And he did all by himself this time.
After growing close to Minho when he thought he was a normal citizen, they should have bonded even more discovering they were both assassins and making a team. Life had given him the best if not the only opportunity to grow close to someone. And what did he make of it? He stomped upon it in the mud, forever tainting their relationship, forever fumbling his chances of friendship and love if that was something he could even dream of one day.
Now it would be weird between them, he had ruined their growing friendship, as soon as he had confirmation from Minho that he was forgiven. It almost appeared to be Jisung’s talent, turning joy into despair. Minho wouldn’t be so open anymore, Minho wouldn’t hug him anymore, maybe Minho would even want to leave the apartment. Fuck, Jisung couldn’t even look at him anymore, shame too big in his mind to allow it.
The awkwardness in the room echoed Jisung’s heart, and he couldn’t sustain the silence any longer. So, he quickly ran to the comfort of his bedroom, hiding himself beneath the blanket, hoping the warmth he could get from it could compensate the warmth in Minho he lost forever.
He fell asleep as he cried, not hearing Minho showering in the bathroom next to him, not hearing his soft knocks on the door a few minutes later, calling his name to open it. He wanted to talk, but he was too late. Tomorrow would always come after today.
Jisung woke up around midday, ignoring his puffy face when he passed in front of the mirror, an unfortunate reminder of what had happened yesterday. Dragging the weight of his heavy heart, he put on his socks but noticed a paper slipped under his door.
He picked it up with trembling hands, stressing as soon as he noticed Minho’s handwriting. Not knowing what to expect, a part of him convinced he had left to never return. Jisung couldn’t blame him though, he would’ve done just the same.
“Hey I’m going to uni today! I hope you don’t feel bad about yesterday, I just didn’t know how to react… I understand you were going through strong emotions, I don’t mind it. It was an accident, don’t worry, it doesn’t change anything :)
ps: I prepared some coffee for you, hope it’s not cold when you wake up!”
Heart of gold…
Minho had probably thought about the kiss for a while, only to conclude in an accident caused by strong emotions. And maybe that’s all it was. Maybe that’s what triggered and encouraged Jisung to act, the adrenaline and the joy of finding him alive, the comfort he found in his arms, almost as if he had found the real meaning of home. Nobody had hugged him for years now, and nobody had ever hugged him as tightly. You have to understand Jisung, he had pushed away and denied love for so long, he was overwhelmed by anything and misinterpreted any sign of attention.
And now he just had to go on with his day and his life with a gaping hole in his heart, knowing he had fallen in love with Minho and ruined his chance all in the same week. And he would have to act fine, bury the pain as deep as he could when he would see the older again, because if it didn’t change anything for Minho, it changed everything for Jisung.
He wandered around the apartment, only silence and emptiness greeting him. As promised, some coffee remained for Jisung, now completely cold, and as usual, Minho hadn’t cleaned the machine, leaving the coffee grinds inside instead of throwing them out as soon as the machine had stopped brewing the coffee.
Some things changed and some things would never change.
He stared at the coffee for a while, only thinking about Minho’s attention towards him. Despite the anger, and the punches, and the kiss, Minho stayed and cared. Jisung couldn’t cry again, he didn’t want to cry again, but his body couldn’t handle Minho’s constant attentions and reassurance any other way.
Leaving a message at his door, preparing food for him, reassuring him, not showing any form of resentment or bitterness towards Jisung.
Too many signs that he cared, too many signs that he wasn’t leaving, too many promises and hope building up in Jisung again. But it was an accident, right? Minho thought so, it had to be. It had to be…
For the first time in months, Jisung didn’t do anything that day. Not that he had nothing to do, but he just didn’t feel like moving from the couch, slowly morphing into the cushions. Sure, he could have prepared a plan for the next party, how they would trap the counsellor and kill him, how they would infiltrate and exit the party without getting caught this time. If Minho didn’t occupy his entire brain, maybe he would’ve thought on doing something with all the information they had discovered concerning the counsellor’s activities.
His lies, his stocks in companies, the fake deaths tolls. It was probably just the tip of the iceberg, and Jisung wanted to take a look into his office one last time, to find more proofs, worse deeds committed. And then he would show them to the world. Because killing the counsellor would only do good if people knew why he didn’t deserve to live anymore in the first place.
He wanted to burn his office to the ground, burn his house to the ground and him inside, with all his selfishness and immorality, all the horrors he caused and made possible, everything he hid to the public. But he had to show everyone, what those monsters did behind closed doors and champagne glasses.
But his mind focused on Minho, and in everything he did that day he saw the older. He scrolled on his phone and social networks, fell upon videos of cute cats staring at babies. Minho. He looked at the new contracts that had popped up recently out of habit, noticing one actually being manageable. A victim of bullying seeking revenge for five million won, the bully not being someone important, he could kill him fast and without anyone to see. Minho would’ve definitely chosen it. He ordered the same chicken soup Minho had eaten last week. And as he zapped the channels on his television, Minho’s favourite anime was on, airing the last three episodes yet again.
He wished Minho was here to see it, to share his favourite characters with Jisung and explain what was going on in the series. He wished he had asked him earlier, they would’ve had something in common that wasn’t being assassins.
Comfortable in the couch engulfed in a blanket, Jisung watched the episodes, not understanding anything about what was going on, not knowing any character’s names apart from Minho’s favourite, discovering he had some form of fire power, that was cool. But he didn’t care much about the anime, he wanted to know what Minho liked so much about it, what resonated between him and his favourite character.
Was it the fact that he had been alone his whole life and when he finally could reach the highest form of power he could detain he refused, because accepting it meant losing the ones he loved?
Was it how he had sacrificed himself for everyone all along his journey and still did at the end? Not caring about himself even if that meant dying for others?
Did he like his red hairstyle or the jokes he regularly made throughout the show? Jisung laughed at a few ones, he confirmed he was indeed a funny character. He wasn’t the main protagonist and yet he had his charms, was this the reason Minho chose him?
Rocked to sleep by the warmth surrounding him, Jisung stared blankly at the television for the last episode, the fighting sounds not disturbing his sleepy state. He dozed off so deeply he didn’t realize when the program changed, the news suddenly coming up.
A few minutes later, he opened his eyes again, staring at the blurry screen in front of him. Journalists were talking about a rise in prices on dairy products, about young people struggling to find jobs, about ongoing discussions surrounding a dangerous chemical found in a good percentage of pills sold throughout the country.
But none of that interested Jisung right now, still resting softly against the pillow and lying on the couch. The remote was too far anyway, only five minutes left and they would air another anime or series that could numb his hurting brain.
He saw images of the national assembly, the red seats striking his eyes as ministers and deputies were sitting in the room, arguing together about an environmental law project concerning taxes in industries exploiting the Earth’s resources. He didn’t connect the dots at first, until he saw two ministers talking to each other, and he recognized the counsellor behind them.
Unlike everyone, he didn’t appear worried or in a deep reflexion; he seemed serene and peaceful, showing a slight grin on his face. But the world didn’t pay attention to him, he was merely in the shadows of more important political figures. He roamed around all the ministers in the most prestigious buildings in the country, holding one of the most honourable jobs in this world, and yet he betrayed everyone’s trust in plain sight.
And Jisung knew the counsellor wasn’t the only one, but seeing him parading in the building, knowing what kind of parties he held and what happened there, at least a part of what happened anyways, it disgusted him. As much as it scared him.
The counsellor didn’t fear anything, and even knowing two persons infiltrated his private wing and office, he still didn’t show any sign of stress. Either he didn’t care or he already had a plan to deal with it, to deal with them…
Jisung tried to stop his brain but his heart rate rose higher and higher with each passing minute. What if his guards had found out where they lived? They didn’t know their names but they had seen their faces, probably watched the CCTV cameras in the mansion. Could they go back up to them from a blurry picture?
Jisung thought he was safer than Minho though. The older had talked with him, the counsellor had watched him several times, had manifested interest in him, to put it nicely. If that sick monster recognized Minho, how long could it take until he eventually found him?
Minho had left the safety of the apartment to go to university, he could be in danger, walking back home as the sun was now setting down.
Jisung sprung up from the couch noticing the late time and quickly changed from his pyjamas to a hoodie and jeans. He grabbed his keys and rushed to his motorcycle in the parking lot, taking a single helmet with him, not having a spare one for Minho anymore.
He rushed to the university to be in time for the end of Minho’s classes, hesitating on whether he should just keep an eye on him from far away, following the older discreetly and making sure no one attacked him until he reached his workplace – even if Jisung didn’t like that Minho had to work tonight, or should he walk to the older directly, make himself be seen, despite the potential awkwardness that would arise between them?
But no more lies. No more keeping things from each other. A fresh start awaited Jisung if only he had the courage to embrace it.
He parked next to the campus, the streets already swarming with dozens and dozens of students going home. He hoped he was not too late.
Jisung arrived panting in front of the gates, observing everyone entering or leaving the campus for a few minutes, losing hopes and gaining stress, until he saw Minho. A shining light in the desolate night. Walking alone among the crowd, hands resting underneath the straps of his bag on his shoulders, observing the sky above, a few bright stars discreetly showing in the darkening blue sky after the sun had abandoned the Earth a few minutes ago.
With his coffee cup tied to his bag and his hoodie at least one size too big for him giving him sweater paws, he looked adorable in Jisung’s eyes. And naïve. Not caring about the world, probably not knowing the dangers that could potentially await him. He lacked years of experience, he hadn’t been exposed to violence like Jisung. After all, he couldn’t anticipate dangers he ignored.
Minho stopped staring at the sky to look back down in front of him when he passed the gates, almost coming to a full stop when he saw Jisung on the other side of the streets, staring back at him on the sidewalk, hands in pockets.
Minho looked around a bit confused, avoiding other students’ gazes on him as he crossed the street to meet Jisung, the younger blushing more and more the closer he got.
“Hey,” Minho started, observing him from head to toe, instantly worried. “What are you doing here? Are you ok?”
Can you hear it? The sound of Jisung’s heart breaking?
He had sped all the way to protect Minho, to make sure he was okay, the older being way too careless and reckless to take the danger he was living in into account. But Minho was the one worried for him, once again caring about Jisung before himself.
Jisung knew his presence seemed strange, and troubling, but if Minho could stop being so damn touching and caring, then it would be easier for Jisung’s heart to not fall for him again and make another mistake? Those gentle eyes, big enough to hold the universe inside them, they scrutinized him to make sure he was okay. But Jisung just wanted to drown forever in them.
“I’m fine, I…” Jisung’s voice died down. What was he doing here? What would he tell Minho? The truth, he was worried the counsellor was after him. A lie, he was just walking around and thought they could walk together for a bit.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he explained as the older looked at him confused, a small smile reaching his face.
“I’m always fine, don’t worry,” he reassured him, his gentle smile making Jisung look away, unable to sustain it. His poor heart.
“It’s just…” he looked around, observing the surroundings for anyone hidden in the shadows sent to kill Minho or bring him back to the counsellor. His scrutinizing eyes worried the older again, looking in the same directions as Jisung to understand what he was doing, sensing his sense of urgency but lost as to why he had to be wary now.
“I’m scared the counsellor’s looking for us,” he lowered his voice, setting his eyes back into Minho’s blinking ones, his mouth slightly agape as he looked around.
Those crooked teeth he had threatened a few days ago, he would die for them now.
“I don’t think so…” Minho kept trying to peek through the shadows, just to make sure.
“But he’s seen us at the restaurant, and he probably watched the camera footage in his house. I’m sure he recognized us.”
“But he doesn’t know our names, he can’t find us so easily Jisung,” he looked back at the younger, a reassuring smile on his face. The naivety of his lack of enemies shining again. “We’re good at hiding.”
Jisung wanted to believe Minho’s candour despite his entire life experiences pointing at those signs, the one that shouted to be careful and wary. His constant anxiety that people were looking after him, that enemies never really rested and struck when you least expected it. He sighed, still looking at the students leaving, in case a counsellor’s guard was hiding amidst the crowd.
“Come on, let’s go back home,” Minho walked towards the apartment, Jisung not understanding what he was doing.
“I-I thought you were going to work. I wanted to walk you there,” he confessed shyly, catching up to Minho who had stopped on the sidewalk, a bit embarrassed.
“Yeah… I quit,” he admitted, looking away from the younger getting close.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t need it anymore,” he smiled at Jisung, but the younger noticed how it faded a bit before he turned around to walk again.
Jisung wanted to know why, wanted to uncover the truth the older was keeping away from him, but he had to stop Minho, way too focused on walking back home that he was going past the street where Jisung had parked his motorcycle.
“Hey, stop,” he called him, Minho turning around as Jisung gestured the older to follow him down another road.
“You know, they’re not after us,” Minho reiterated as he still followed Jisung, a few steps behind him. “You don’t have to change roads to go back home.”
Jisung stayed silent, walking to his motorcycle as Minho understood his behaviour.
“Oh… I thought…” he observed Jisung taking the helmet from the storage compartment. “I thought you walked here.”
“Why would I walk?”
“I don’t know, to avoid drawing attention to yourself,” Minho pointed out, glancing at his bike.
“Well, it was faster. Here,” he handed Minho the helmet before sitting on the motorcycle.
“Where’s your-” Minho stopped, remembering the counsellor’s party last night. His second helmet probably still lay in the forest somewhere.
“No, take it, you’re the one driving,” Minho handed it back to the younger, but Jisung never took it. He just waited, looking at Minho until the older resigned, putting the helmet onto his head and sitting behind him.
Jisung had prepared himself for the contact, had mentally rehearsed how Minho’s hands would feel on his waist again, how much his legs would press against his.
He wasn’t ready for it.
Minho seemed even closer than before, almost hugging Jisung as the younger could feel the warmth on his back, Minho’s chest touching it. He was almost lying on Jisung, and if it wasn’t for that damn helmet, he would’ve rested his chin on the younger’s shoulder.
Focus, Jisung. Focus. Don’t let your heart skip a beat, don’t let it trick you again into a mistake you would never recover from.
But Minho’s hands embraced his waist perfectly, lower than before, resting too low for Jisung to keep his sanity, despite Minho not touching anything. He didn’t need touches, the mere thought of it was enough.
So, he started the engine and drove off, hoping focusing on the road would take his mind off Minho. It didn’t. Not at all.
He tried his best to hide his blushing cheeks from Minho when they reached the apartment, the touch of the older’s arms still lingering on his waist. He already missed them.
“You ok with curry tonight?” Jisung distracted himself, staring at the delivery app on his phone as he headed to the kitchen, away from Minho. No way he would show just how flustered he was.
“Why not,” he heard Minho’s soft voice from the hallway, the older walking to the bathroom to take a quick shower.
Jisung ordered and puffed when he saw their delivery was scheduled to arrive in thirty minutes. Not that he was hungry, he was actually way too disturbed by Minho’s touch to think about anything else right now. And when he heard the bathroom door close, he released a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He touched his face, his skin too hot for his liking, and he opened his phone camera, only to be face to face with a red blushing version of himself. Jisung had to find a way to calm down, he couldn’t just turn into a tomato anytime Minho was near him.
Don’t ruin everything, again.
But he had forgotten to refill the ice cube tray, and he was desperate, but not as much as to stuff his face into the freezer or into a bag of frozen peas. So, he fanned his head with his hand, feeling sweat starting to pearl on his skin. What kind of pathetic reaction was that? Had he yearned for love so much? Had he forgotten what human touch felt like? Did Minho attract him that much?
Jisung sat on the couch to await his destiny. The delivery was estimated in 23 minutes. He heard the sound of the shower for a while, a white noise that soothed him a bit, for as long as it lasted at least.
Because when Minho came back to the living room, it was at the expense of Jisung’s heart. How could he stay calm when the boy he was falling in love with was standing a few meters in front of him, wearing nothing but a plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair still damp from the shower?
How could Jisung ignore the fast bumping of his heart, threatening to rip his chest open to escape its useless restraints? How could he not blush at the sight, especially when Minho smiled at him, noticing his doe eyes locked onto his body?
“What are you staring at?” he asked, amused, looking at his own body to find what interested Jisung so much. Not understanding the turmoil in Jisung’s heart, not even considering it.
“Damp,” Jisung managed to mutter out, gazing at the scarce damp patches on Minho’s shirt, too absorbed to realize just how shamelessly he stared at the older’s chest underneath.
“Oh,” Minho realized what Jisung was peeking at and blushed a bit, stroking his slightly damp chest with his hand. “I hurried because I didn’t want to miss the food.”
Jisung was glad he wasn’t the only one blushing right now, the two of them now looking away from the other, not daring to say another word. And Jisung didn’t dare stare at Minho’s body anymore, not risking ruining anything again. Minho was already uncomfortable enough, or so he thought…
His phone rang a minute later, the delivery man waiting outside the building with their meals. So, Jisung left the warmth of the apartment to get the food, enjoying the breeze outside, cooling down his feelings and his burning skin.
And Minho turned red in the living room, smiling to himself, unable to get Jisung’s flustered and wide eyes staring at his chest from his mind. The younger had carved its way into Minho’s heart, and the older knew he would let him do whatever he wanted, whenever. Jisung seemed to restrain himself so much, for anything, he wanted to free him. Even if he didn’t really know how. And yet, there was this fine line Minho didn’t want to cross. He didn’t want to seem weird or too straightforward. Jisung already seemed to be struggling with his own emotions, no need for Minho to worsen anything.
He got rid of the blush on his cheeks when Jisung came back with their food, heading straight to the kitchen to unpack it, carefully avoiding any eye-contact with the older, scared to be flustered once again.
Minho joined him, observing the younger dispose the different cups on the table, handing Minho his chopsticks without the older even asking for them. Why did his heart skip a bit at the gesture?
They sat in front of each other, at their usual seats, and ate in silence, focusing on their meal and yet no amount of delicious food could make them think about anything else than the other man in front of them. Jisung sometimes glanced at Minho, in between bites, and Minho glanced as well at the younger. And yet, their eyes never met.
The silence eventually bothered Jisung enough for him to want to speak again. Drowning in his flustering feelings, he felt uneasy in front of Minho, as if the older could see right through his act, as if he could see Jisung was desperately falling in love with him. And that would ruin everything.
“So…,” Jisung started unsure, staring at his plate, looking for any subject to not let Minho see how much his heart longed for him. “… for the mission…”
Minho finally looked up at Jisung, chewing his food. He quickly brushed the wet strands of hair from his eyes to look at the younger: it distracted Jisung. He really had beautiful eyes.
“I, um…” he cleared his throat, not hearing Minho’s slight chuckle upon seeing his flustered reactions. “The next party is Sunday so we should prepare a plan.”
It was lame, he knew it. He had the opportunity to speak about literally anything with Minho, he had craved to get closer with him this afternoon again. Couldn’t he speak about the anime right now? Or why Minho didn’t need his job anymore? Couldn’t he find any other subject than the one where they risked their lives? He had to speak about anything else than work, no matter how weird their “jobs” were. But he had no idea right now, so that was better than the awkward silence lingering in the kitchen’s air, unspoken feelings of attraction hanging between them.
But in front of him, Minho nodded at his proposition, putting down his chopsticks to fully concentrate on his words. Jisung found him cute when he was attentive.
“We can’t disguise as waiters anymore, or anyone working there. I think they’ll monitor everyone carefully now.”
Minho chuckled a bit, reminiscing they had actually managed to fool everyone and enter the house that way. Escaping had been slightly harder though.
“Yeah, the guards or worse, the chef, could recognize us.”
Jisung only sighed at his joke, he had forgotten about that. It complicated everything, of course the guards could recognize them. The counsellor knew their faces from before, and with the CCTV footage, Jisung was sure he connected the dots and would have now forever engraved theirs faces in his retina.
“I guess we just have to hide from everyone and keep away from the cameras. I still remember their locations…” Jisung thought as he spoke, figuring out a way to succeed their mission. “Maybe if we hide in the garden and wait for everyone to leave, we actually have a shot.”
“Or…” Minho smirked, Jisung didn’t like it. “We become guests.”
Jisung’s confused face didn’t unsettle Minho at all, he was convinced of his plan. Jisung didn’t know if he had actually thought about it thoroughly or was improvising in front of him. That sounded like such a shitty plan. At least, Minho was confident explaining it.
“Didn’t you notice? The guests were all dressed fancy, with makeup and all, women or men. I think we could actually enter the party that way.”
Jisung didn’t even note the makeup idea, he was too stuck on the mountain of practical problems rising before them.
“How do you even get yourself an invite?”
“We just have to steal it from another guest,” Minho took another bite of his food, the solution obvious to him.
“And if they do an ID check?” Jisung couldn’t believe him.
“I’ll steal the guest ID.”
“Even if you don’t look like him?”
He thought he was annoying Minho, but the older chuckled at him, his eyes sparkling with more and more dangerous ideas.
“I actually noticed a guest that looked a bit like me,” he pointed his chopsticks to Jisung as he explained. “Chances are he's an asshole, so killing him would do just a bit more good to the world, right? For free, even better.”
Jisung saw the logic but… “Killing him?”
“I mean, yeah...” Minho shrugged his shoulders. “We don't know when the counsellor sends the invites, and we have to get it before the party. The best time to do it is before the guest leaves, on Sunday. And I doubt he'll let us steal the invite without trying to catch us or informing the counsellor. Or both.”
“And then we're dead,” Jisung thought out loud, earning an approving nod from the older, taking another bite of his food. Even the way he chewed his food was cute, why did he pout his lips like that? Too adorable for Jisung to handle right now. He really needed to focus, but that was complicated.
“So, um…,” he looked away to gather his neurons to work again. “You want to kill a guest that looks like you, put makeup on your face and infiltrate the party with his ID?”
Minho nodded, approving Jisung succinct summary, full of hope and naivety. Jisung knew it was stupid and risky, but everything turned out that way in their case. He wished he had a better idea, but they lacked time and he lacked a working brain. Maybe if he kept pondering Minho’s plan, there was a safer way to execute it. Minho thought putting on makeup would be enough of a disguise when Jisung just didn’t want him to be recognizable by the counsellor. By any means.
“What about me?” he finally asked, expecting Minho to tell him with a smug face that they would just kill another guest. They were all assholes so no problems, right? As if killing someone was an easy mundane task.
“You’ll be my bodyguard.”
Jisung choked a bit on his food, certainly not ready for those words to leave Minho’s mouth. The older smiled at him, eyes sparkling with pride at his reaction. Jisung was so confused, Minho could see his brain overworking to understand. It made him look cute.
“Many guests had personal bodyguards with them, you just have to wear a wig and sunglasses, no one will know it's you.”
He kept smiling at his idea, chuckling upon imagining Jisung in a wig. Jisung hated the idea, it sounded so stupid. But if Minho kept smiling at him like that, his cheeks bundling up from laughing so much at him, maybe he would convince the younger. His heart could easily be swayed in front of Minho.
“That's the worst idea I’ve ever heard…”
His eyes met Minho’s, the older grinning proudly at him. Jisung couldn’t even fake his emotions, he smiled back at his smug and content face.
“And what's your grand idea then?” Minho asked back, teasing.
Silence.
Minho had won. He took another bite of his food, unable to wipe the grin off his face when Jisung sighed, his smile fading progressively, the danger dawning upon them burdening his heart again.
“It’ll be fine, Jisung,” he spoke softly when he looked back at Jisung, fear written all over the younger’s face. “We can do it.”
Once again, that damn soft smile. It almost convinced him.
“Okay...”
Silence fell upon them again, and the longer Jisung stared at Minho, relaxed and confident despite the doom waiting to fall upon them, the more he realized how perfect his makeup would have to be to be unrecognizable. He didn’t know how he could hide his features, but the counsellor couldn’t find him, no matter what.
He trusted Minho to have already done some kind of hiding in plain sight before, to already have makeup and outfit ideas. But how could Jisung not worry about him? It wasn’t just regular business for him. Assassins risked their lives on every mission, right. But the counsellor was interested in Minho, even if the older hadn’t realized it yet. Jisung had eyes, and he used them to see.
In no world would the counsellor recognize Minho, in no world would the older walk into that man’s mansion and risk his life near him. Jisung had to play Minho’s bodyguard, trust he would guard him then.
Maybe he was overthinking it, seeing danger where there was none, and the counsellor was just a careful man, observing Minho just because he sensed something was off with them, that they were spying on him. But his gut feelings rarely misled him, unfortunately. He had to trust them.
But for now, he put his worries aside to enjoy the meal he was having with Minho. Wasn’t it what he had dreamed of for the past few weeks? To share precious moments with Minho?
So Jisung spent the rest of the meal glancing at the older, discreetly, once again avoiding to show his feelings as much as possible. He observed his hands, the veins slightly showing on them, his long eyelashes and his quick blinking habit, the pouts he made when he put the food in his mouth, the little hums he murmured when he appreciated the taste.
How could you expect Jisung to not fall for him even more?
And as he stared at his lips, he kept remembering the softness he felt when he kissed him yesterday, how Minho hadn’t even tensed under his touch but just… let him?
How cruel for this forbidden kiss to have lasted barely a second and not at least one more. It made Jisung ache for more, after being given a taste of the forbidden fruit he would never touch again.
He had to get used to it, but it was too difficult for his weak heart. Minho was just lovable, and Jisung ached to love, and be loved. A glance, a smile, a touch, a hug, a kiss. Anything, as long as it came from Minho, would soothe his deprived heart.
At least for a bit, until the touch he received faded off his skin and despair would eventually come back, stronger than ever, loneliness seeping deep into his heart once again. A cycle that would never end as long as Minho showed him attention but not love, for Jisung would never have Minho for himself, and he knew it all too well.
And as Jisung lost himself in his mind, he didn’t realize Minho had finished his meal. He yawned after a bit and got up to dispose of his trash, unknowingly grabbing Jisung’s attention back on him, the younger staring at every one of his movements as he finished his own meal.
“I’m going to sleep,” the older informed Jisung who nodded, feeling his cheeks redden a bit.
He didn’t know why it flustered him. Maybe because they shared an apartment but they had never shared intimacy, whatever the form. It felt too much to know that, of course he was going to sleep, why would Jisung need to know?
Minho left, yawning again, but stopped a few steps later, looking back at Jisung. The younger froze under his stare.
“Oh… And no need to pick me up at uni tomorrow or drive me there or whatever,” he smiled, chuckling a bit. “I'll be fine.”
Jisung’s cheeks reddened again, ashamed of his anxious and overprotective behaviour. “Ok…”
But it only made Minho smile even more at him, waving goodbye to the younger and leaving him alone to ponder his feelings with the curry remaining in his cup. Maybe the answers lied in there.
Chapter 4
Notes:
tw: blood, injuries
Chapter Text
So, Jisung listened to Minho, reluctantly, because the next day, when he noticed the older still hadn’t come back home at his estimated time of arrival, it made him lose his composure a bit. His leg kept bouncing on the floor, Jisung unable to stay still on the couch and watch whatever stupid program was airing on the television until Minho safely came back to the apartment.
He knew it was just thirty minutes, and he was surely overthinking it. But he couldn’t stop exploring every possibility as to why Minho still hadn’t come back home. He hadn’t even sent a text…
Apart from the worst-case scenarios Jisung desperately tried to avoid drowning his mind into before ultimately grabbing his motorcycle to go look for Minho himself, he wondered if the older had lied to him about his job. Maybe he just didn’t want to go yesterday and had tried to play it cool in front of Jisung, make it seem as if he didn’t have a shitty job anymore to not be judged for it. Even if Jisung didn’t care about it, he actually thought it was inspiring for someone to take care of their life and do everything they had to do to survive.
No, Minho didn’t lie. Minho never lied.
But time passed inexorably and Jisung had been waiting for an hour now, with no sign of life coming from Minho, and on the kitchen table the food delivery bag had been waiting for just as long. Jisung had ordered their dinner to arrive as soon as Minho came home, to spend more time together. Just another failed attempt at getting close.
Jisung didn’t have any will left to heat the food. He just stared helplessly at the bag, at the clock on the wall, at his phone screen to receive a message. Nothing came.
The older had insisted to not get picked up today. Jisung thought it was to reassure him, to remind him that Minho was a grown man that could handle things on his own, who didn’t need protection. But what if Minho wanted to keep things secret from him?
Jisung knew his own heart couldn’t be trusted, and yet he listened to him, whispering devastating lies he eventually always believed as truths. Minho was seeing someone else, of course he was. That explained his reaction after the kiss, his hand-written note to Jisung, the mistake he believed the younger had made. Mistake… And Jisung shouldn’t ache so much at the thought because they were not in a relationship. They were nothing after all. He loved Minho, the opposite just wasn’t true.
Honestly, Jisung wanted to throw his food to the ground at the thought, to break whatever was breakable in the apartment so his heart wouldn’t break instead. He should’ve told him, he should’ve risked their recovering friendship. He still hoped that confessing to Minho could’ve made the older think, and not jump into anyone’s arms that weren’t Jisung, realize that they were maybe meant to be. That Jisung was the only one who could really understand him completely, that Minho didn’t need to look elsewhere for love.
How pretentious…
Jisung hated himself for his thoughts, but he hoped the counsellor had found Minho. Because he could never bear to live next to someone he loved and not be loved in return. This time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings away. There were limits to his dissimulating skills, and his heart never stayed locked for long.
Minho being in the counsellor’s hands hurt less than him in another man’s arms. Jisung was losing his mind, he realized how sick that sounded, and yet he spoke the truth. The ugly truth of his heart. Minho willingly loving someone else destroyed Jisung, at least Minho didn’t love the counsellor back…
His heart kept alternating between the two possibilities, Minho seeing someone else or being kidnapped, both options horrible to consider. The food stayed untouched on the table, the tv turned silent, and Jisung couldn’t close his eyes no matter how much he wanted to.
Those panicking thoughts consumed all his energy and mind, but he tried to calm down, he really did. He took deep breaths, distracted himself with a comic book, counted various things he saw in his room and heard around him to ground his mind when the panic worsened.
It didn’t do anything. And when midnight passed, Jisung was still wide awake, system overheating from fear. Until…
The front door unlocked.
He jumped from his bed instantly, not caring about being in pyjamas and instantly going to meet Minho. And all the distress he’d previously felt instantly turned into anger. He shouldn’t be, but he was mad to have been kept in the dark, to not at least know or receive a message from the older. Just a small gesture to avoid him excessive worries, because Jisung would have overthought it either way, but at least he knew.
The older tried to remain as discreet as possible, taking off his shoes and the bow on his back silently, keeping the lights off to not wake Jisung up. But of course, he couldn’t know the younger had been panicking for the past four hours.
Jisung’s first reflex was to switch on the lights when he reached Minho, desperate to know which one of his sick scenarios came to be true.
Minho turned around, surprised to see Jisung in his pyjamas standing in front of him. And Jisung’s anxious and slightly angry heart dropped to the ground at the sight.
The light didn’t leave any space for hiding, and Minho would have preferred because he saw Jisung worrying instantly, his wide eyes laid upon his body, and he hated it.
Blood. Everywhere.
In less than a second, Jisung figured it was Minho’s blood, noticing the wounds on his face and body. Bruises on his hands and cheeks, cuts on his face, dried blood that had drippled down his neck from his nose and mouth. His clothes were cut as well in some places and a few seams had been ripped off, exposing bits of his left arm as his jeans were ripped, showing his bloody knees underneath the hanging fabric.
Minho wanted to smile to reassure Jisung, but it only turned into a painful wince, the blows he had received hurting him whenever he moved his lips and cheeks. And when Jisung walked towards him to see his wounds closer, the older took a step back, limping a bit when he put weight on his left foot.
Shocked, Jisung didn’t dare take a step further, taking in the sight of Minho covered in blood and mud before him. Did the counsellor find him? Did his men hurt him? He hated himself for wishing Minho wasn’t seeing someone and had been found instead. How could he ever have wished to see him limping and covered in blood?
“What happened?” Jisung managed to speak out, focusing on the left foot Minho didn’t put any weight on.
Jisung’s worried face, Minho hated it. So, he tried to reassure him, as usual. It didn’t work this time.
“Nothing important-”
“Don’t,” Jisung pressed him, feeling a lump rise in his throat, knowing Minho was protecting him from whatever had just happened, hating it nonetheless.
“Don’t lie to me…”
Minho sighed, knowing Jisung would get angry and worried and confused. Knowing he would have to explain. His body was already in a horrible state, he didn’t have the energy nor the will to explain his life story to Jisung. But well, he’d have to, whether he wanted to or not.
“It’s just… I won a new contract,” Minho hesitated but finally admitted, looking at Jisung, the younger frowning instantly. Weren’t they supposed to be a team? Why would he even look for other contracts?
“Made quite a bit of money on this one,” he still smiled to himself, satisfied. Proud even. Unaware of the damage he had done to Jisung.
“Are you fucking stupid?”
The words hurt, like a thousand blades piercing Minho’s heart in unison, a vessel carrying Jisung’s wounded and scared soul.
“You like getting hurt, huh?” Jisung’s face was red, he spoke through gritted teeth, daggers in his eyes instead of pupils. Maybe Minho didn’t care about putting himself in danger, about hurting himself, about dying. But Jisung did. He couldn’t lose him, but Minho didn’t understand that. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“Risks of the job.”
Minho knew it was not the best answer to give, knew it was not what Jisung expected. But for a lack of a better answer, he tried to diminish the situation. He always did. Unfortunately, that was the final straw for the younger.
Honestly, Jisung wanted to hit him every time he said something so stupid, every time he didn’t realize how much he cared for him, how much he had been scared. Minho couldn’t hide behind jokes all the time, Jisung wouldn’t take it any longer. Perhaps, he needed to realize he couldn’t protect people who didn’t want to be protected.
Still, he grabbed Minho’s hand, forcing the older to follow him towards the bathroom. It hurt Minho, the cuts and bruises on his hand burned against Jisung’s fingers. But he stayed silent, somehow knowing he was in the wrong, somehow knowing Jisung’s emotions were valid. He knew he cared, he just didn’t know how to respond to so much devotion from someone. After all, Jisung had been the only one to ever get angry because he came home late. Even his parents never bothered much. And in that case, anger meant love, and care. A mother scolding her child for not listening to her advice and friends flipping each other off after one of them ran back to their ex again. Aggressive protection.
Jisung’s tight grip on Minho’s hand left no place for the older to get away. He limped behind Jisung, following him into the bathroom, ignoring the pain because he couldn’t dare whine about hurting when he had put himself there in the first place, right?
“Why do you always end up getting hurt?” Jisung asked, more for himself than for an answer from Minho. “You don’t prepare your missions? You don’t use your brain?”
He let go of the older’s hand to search through the cupboards for rubbing alcohol and cotton pads, not even hearing Minho’s muffled winces behind him, his entire body in pain.
“I don’t know…” he still mumbled an answer, guessing Jisung expected some kind of reaction from him, not sure on what to give him precisely.
But Jisung faced him and Minho could only focus on the alcohol in his hand, knowing it would hurt, despising it already.
“Take it off,” Jisung ordered, looking at Minho’s muddy sweater and torn jeans.
His tone was strict, commanding, apathic. Too angry and overwhelmed to realize first how much Minho was hurting, and second that he literally asked Minho to undress before him. Not caring if it made the older uncomfortable, not caring if it suddenly felt too intimate between them. He just had to clean his wounds, and quickly. But him not realizing it was a good thing, that meant he wouldn’t get flustered at the mere idea of Minho obeying his order, of seeing the older get undressed before him, and his cheeks wouldn’t be red again today. His anger saved him from embarrassment, a first.
Minho hesitated, flustered just thinking about showing more of his body to Jisung, but his reddening cheeks and ears didn’t earn compassion from the younger. Jisung’s stare was cruel, impatient, insensitive. For the first time in his life, Minho realized his careless actions could hurt others, that his own wounds could also be felt deeply by someone else, that people could care about him as viscerally as Jisung. Or maybe Jisung was an exception.
But he never knew his little getaway would affect Jisung so much. He thought he would be angry that he had completed another mission without him, or that he had hurt his face and that would make it even more difficult for them to infiltrate the counsellor’s party on Sunday. But Jisung was mad because he got… hurt?
He never thought his wounds would upset the younger, he had underestimated how worried Jisung would have been. He should’ve known. He should’ve known.
So, Minho obeyed and proceeded slowly, taking off his sweater first, dried mud falling onto the white tiles as he trapped whimpers in his throat. He had no right to voice out his pain. He had to bear with the consequences of his reckless actions now.
With his ripped and holed sweater now on the ground, he was left in a black t-shirt, exposing even more bruises to Jisung who just shook his head, disapproving silently.
Minho blushed again, the idea of taking his jeans off in front of Jisung felt too much, but once again, the younger’s eyes were not leaving room for disagreement or bargaining. So, he proceeded, taking the hurting leg out first, not daring to look at Jisung. Was he staring? Was he examining? In a way, did his body attract him or was he indifferent? Minho didn’t want to know the answer.
He struggled to take off his other leg, unable to keep his left foot on the ground, crushed by his body weight. He held onto the wall to ease the pain, only one hand pulling his jeans to take them off. And Jisung observed, unable to ignore the winces of pain on Minho’s face, the silent swallowing of his agony.
“Sit now,” he softened a bit, pointing at the bathtub. “Don’t be stupid.”
Minho looked back at him, surprised by his sudden softness, only expecting another scold. So, he listened and sat on the edge of the bathtub, finally taking off his jeans entirely. And he dared to look at Jisung, but the younger was completely focused on his wounds still, not caring about his body or anything else. Did he really look that bad?
“What happened to your knees?” Jisung asked, once again colder, scrutinizing his scraped and bloody knees, the skin burnt and cut open.
He crouched down and ended up kneeling in front of the older, pouring alcohol onto the cotton pads. His position flustered Minho, his cheeks flaming hot in less than a second, clearly not used to the sight of a boy kneeling right in front of his legs. Actually, it flustered him so much he didn’t even anticipate the alcohol that touched his skin. It burned awfully.
“Fuck…” he groaned through gritted teeth, wincing and closing his eyes from the pain.
“Bite into this if you need,” Jisung handed him a towel in response, focused on his task. He could see there was a lot of dirt stuck in the wounds, he didn’t have too much time or Minho would get infected.
“I’m not the gentle type.”
He lied there. Only his anger stiffened his fingers, not caring about hurting Minho any more.
Minho grabbed the towel, but didn’t use it. His damn self-deprecating behaviour, always thinking about others before himself. He kept the pain inside, he deserved it. He couldn’t show his weakness to Jisung now, and he was convinced it would somehow satisfy the younger to hear and see his pain. Maybe it was the only way Minho knew to apologize to Jisung, to tell him “I know I did wrong, but I’m suffering for it now so we’re even”.
Self-flagellation, the art. Minho, the artist. Forgive him, he had never found any other way through his life to get properly forgiven. Guilt, he was only too familiar.
The alcohol rubbed once again on his scraped skin, burning harder and longer than before. Minho was sure Jisung had poured more alcohol onto the pad this time, and if it was a way to manifest his anger, to make him suffer for all the worrying and anxiety he had caused, Minho didn’t mind. He should drown in alcohol for what he did to Jisung anyway. He should’ve told him. He should’ve told him.
Jisung grabbed a tweezer to get what he had guessed were grits out of his wounds. And every time the tweezer touched Minho’s skinned knee, the older jolted, his nerves sensitive. But Jisung took so much effort to clean his wounds thoroughly, he had to keep the pain to himself, he couldn’t force it on him again.
“I fell when I was escaping,” he managed to finally answer and give context to Jisung, hissing when the younger took off another tiny rock from his wound.
“That’s why your foot is hurting?” Jisung asked, still focused, still cold.
“I didn’t see the step when I left the building,” Minho nodded, feeling the need to explain more to the younger. He deserved it.
“Where was it?”
“Some abandoned building Northwest.”
Bad news. Jisung froze, and so Minho froze too, not knowing what was wrong with his words. Or did he somehow do something offensive without knowing?
He didn’t have time to react that Jisung poured alcohol directly into the wound to cleanse it even deeper. An abandoned building… Leaving a bleeding wound with dirt inside… Who knew what kind of diseases or bacteria Minho could have caught there? Might as well just completely wait for the infection at that rate. Jisung really hoped the wounds wouldn’t get infected.
But hearing Minho’s winces and whimpers through gritted teeth, his breath turning a bit erratic, seeing the way his hands held tightly onto the bathtub, the veins popping off all the way across his forearms. It hurt Jisung, it really did. And it calmed his rage down, sending a wave of guilt through his body. He shouldn’t have let his anger speak, he should’ve been gentler.
“Sorry…” he spoke faintly in the middle of Minho’s whimpers, looking away in shame.
“Don’t be…” Minho spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes shut from the pain, fighting hard to keep the tears inside. “It’s my fault.”
Jisung’s heart. Broken.
“I was just… so worried…” he stared at the mix of alcohol and blood dripping from the older’s legs and making a reddish puddle on the ground with shame. Jisung’s knees were hurting on the tiles but he didn’t care. He hurt Minho, once again, and Minho blamed himself, once again. He wanted to cut off his hands that destroyed more than they soothed. Would he ever learn to deal with despair in another way? Would he ever stop hurting the people he loved because he couldn’t handle his own feelings?
“I know…” Another whimper, and yet Jisung could feel the empathy in Minho’s words. He felt sorry, of course he did.
Jisung kept cleaning his knees, feeling Minho’s pain in his body every time he heard the older wince. And after anger came relief. All the stress and fear he had accumulated into his body for the last four hours was coming down, and only guilt remained, the ugly consequences of his quick temper.
“You were late…” Jisung confessed, not knowing what to explain himself, his own actions intolerable for him. “And you come back here four hours later, covered in blood. I… Your face…”
Tears threatened to fall, he fought them back inside. He looked up at Minho’s face, observing every cut and bruise tainting his skin. They locked eyes, but Jisung looked away, the sight too difficult to take in. He just finished cleaning up the wounds on his knees, sniffling to himself.
“You should have seen the other guy,” Minho joked again, hiding as his last resource to appease the younger. He didn’t like it when he cried. Still, it didn’t make Jisung smile either, quite the opposite actually.
“Stop,” Jisung’s voice trembled as he got up. “Stop making jokes out of everything, please… just stop. It’s not funny Minho, look at you.”
He took in the sight in front of him, the countless wounds and the purple bruises, the pain on Minho’s bloody face, the mud on his clothes. Minho looked away, still no answer to give to the younger. Jisung bit the inside of his cheeks to prevent the tears from rolling down his face, fetching new cotton pads to now take care of Minho’s upper body.
But this time, he rubbed the pad as gently as he could on the wounds on his arms and hands, the older still wincing. Despite the tears, Jisung blushed a bit when Minho held his fingers tightly as the alcohol burned the back of his hand. An anchor to handle the pain. And Jisung rubbed his thumb on Minho’s hand to soothe him as he disinfected the wound there.
“I should have told you, I’m sorry…” Minho admitted in shame, looking away from Jisung.
“Yeah, you should’ve,” Jisung didn’t look back at him either, focusing on the wound, focusing on their fingers holding each other, on the warmth of Minho’s skin.
“Why did you even get another contract?”
Silence.
“I needed the money.”
Jisung gulped down his rage, he had already spilled too much anger tonight, he didn’t have any left in his blood. Minho needed money. The one who had stolen eight contracts from him, who earned all the money hewas supposed to have. Jisung knew the phenomenal amount it represented, how could he even need more?
“What even for? You already have so much money…”
But Minho never replied, he didn’t want to speak. So, Jisung sighed and kept cleaning his wounds to distract his anger. He poured alcohol onto the cotton pad, ready to tackle the long cut on Minho’s cheek.
Their faces were close again, and Minho’s big eyes kept staring at Jisung, how he bit his bottom lip to focus, how his eyes were red from tears that had almost spilled. Jisung’s breath against his skin sent shivers down Minho’s spine. He couldn’t move his head, but he craved the younger. Just as he had craved him before everything went downhill and Jisung learned who he was. Better hold back to not anger Jisung even more, to not make a stupid mistake.
Jisung forced himself to only look at the wound, but well, Minho’s lips weren’t far away. He wanted to lay a kiss at the corner of his mouth, to stop the agony and tell him just how much he loved him. But he could never handle the rejection anyways.
So, he finished cleaning up the wound, getting away from Minho’s face. He forced himself to not look back at Minho’s lips, to not lock eyes with him, to not cede to his envies.
“Are you hurt anywhere I don’t know?”
Minho shook his head no. Jisung didn’t know if he was lying.
And when he looked at Minho’s overall state, he finally took into account the fact that he had made him undress in front of him, that he was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers in front of him, that his own hands had roamed on the older’s skin, his legs, his arms and hands, his cheek. He blushed at the thought, he blushed at the sight, suddenly feeling hot.
Despite the wounds, despite the bruises, despite the mud, Minho looked beautiful. Out of this world, a beauty Jisung could only ever dream of watching because he could never have it. He stopped himself from staring further up his thighs, feeling Minho’s gaze upon him.
“Take a shower,” Jisung finally ordered, leaving quickly to not end up making another mistake.
But he stopped in front of the door. Minho was hurt, he could barely put his left foot on the ground, he struggled to walk. Maybe he would need him, and honestly, Jisung didn’t know how to react if he indeed needed him to undress completely or worse, shower. But he would lose his mind, this was certain.
“You’ll be okay?” he dared to ask, observing Minho getting up and holding himself against the wall. “You don’t need help?”
For his sanity, or for his despair (he wasn’t so sure), Minho shook his head no, forcing himself to smile at the younger. And so, Jisung quickly closed the door, leaving him some intimacy.
And once in the quietness of his room, Jisung finally released the tears he had been trapping inside, stress flowing out of his body silently, rolling down his cheeks and wetting his t-shirt. He thought he had lost him, he really did.
Honestly, he hated the idea of leaving Minho alone, no matter how brief the time. What if he slipped in the shower? What if he fell? What if he was too tired and lost consciousness? He could hear the water running in the bathroom, and no matter if his face was riddled with tears, he would jump instantly to help the older if he needed it.
And Jisung wished he could take Minho into his arms, hold him as tight as he could to heal him faster, to build back up whatever had been broken, whatever made Minho blame himself, whatever made him put himself after everyone else. He needed his warmth against his body, his skin under his fingers, and his lips kissing him softly. To heal together, to comfort each other. A dream after all, that was all it was.
Twenty minutes went on before the water stopped running. And two minutes later, Jisung heard a knock at his door, hesitant, respectful.
“Jisung?” Minho’s soft voice reached him. He could hear Minho say his name all day long. The older paused, pondering, before gathering his courage.
“Can we speak?”
Jisung got up from his bed instantly, rubbing his eyes to lessen the damage the tears had done, in vain. He opened the door, finding Minho on the other side in joggers, hair dripping wet and his shirt damp from absorbing the water still remaining on his skin. No mud anymore, only the bruises remained, purple circles colouring his body, contrasting his skin. He held himself against the wall again to not put weight on his foot, and Jisung wanted to brush his hair back to see his eyes clearly. It shouldn’t attract him, he was really sick in the head.
He ended up opening the door wider to let the older inside, losing his composure. Minho looked around, observing the mess everywhere. The clothes on the floor, the mountain of random objects on the desk, printed circuit boards and tools, ammunitions on the floor, a sole sock. But he didn’t say anything, actually he didn’t care much.
And Jisung didn’t care about the mess either, nor about sharing his intimacy with Minho. They had gone past that when Jisung had cleaned the older’s wounds on his knees earlier. And honestly, he just wanted to see Minho, to have him close by and spend time next to him. No matter if they remained together in silence because, at least, they were together.
He gestured the older to sit on the bed when Minho stayed up in the middle of the room, not daring to cross boundaries with Jisung’s private space. And yet, he sat down quite quickly, relieved because he didn’t have to use his hurting leg anymore.
Silence established itself between them, Minho gathering his courage to speak his mind to Jisung, to be honest and explain his story to the younger, so he could understand and not be so angry, not feel so left out. And Jisung was standing awkwardly in his room, not really knowing whether to hide or find something to occupy his brain with. Maybe he should clean his desk… But he kept coming back to Minho, studying his wounds.
“Can I take a look at your foot?”, Jisung glanced at Minho’s left ankle, the older not bothering to put socks back on after his shower.
Minho agreed, taken aback by Jisung’s request. He would explain his life story later, because now Jisung was sitting on the ground below him for the second time that night, and he couldn’t take it without glowing red. Look away, look away, look away…
Carefully taking Minho’s ankle in his hands, Jisung observed it. The skin was red, and the area completely swollen, but it didn’t seem visibly broken. Jisung had never broken his bones, but he had smashed others’ arms or ankles a good number of times. Minho wouldn’t even be able to rest his foot on the ground if it was broken.
“I can move my foot fine,” Minho read his mind, monitoring Jisung moving his head around the ankle to get a better look. “It just hurts when I do.”
Jisung hummed, still focused on his foot. His fingers on Minho’s skin sent shivers down the older’s spine, the touch delicate and gentle, scared to hurt, scared to break.
“Maybe it’s just an ankle sprain. We’ll see tomorrow.”
Just…
Out of a better explanation, Jisung sighed and let go of his foot, gently putting it back onto the ground. Minho’s heart skipped a beat at the gesture.
He sat next to the older on the bed, hands between his thighs as he waited in silence, not knowing if Minho would actually talk to him. Enjoying the time he could spend with the older, appreciating his presence, that he was alive and breathing next to him. He could’ve stayed comfortable in the silence forever, their bodies close, shoulders almost touching he could feel the warmth of Minho’s body radiating on his own skin.
But Minho broke the silence, opening his heart to Jisung bit by bit. The younger deserved it, for everything he had made him go through.
“I need the money because I have to repay someone,” he tested the waters, not daring to turn around to look at Jisung.
But the younger kept looking at the ground, careful to not be too intrusive. He valued his confession too much to be invasive and risk Minho closing off. That didn’t stop his mind from overthinking. Repay someone… Was he in trouble? Were people looking for him? Did he borrow money from someone he shouldn’t have?
“My father…” Minho sighed, finally letting go of the burden in his heart.
It stunned Jisung who didn’t expect this answer. He turned around to look at Minho, the older staring at the ground, fidgeting with his hands.
“He paid me this university because he wanted me to have a good engineering job and earn enough money to live a good life. But I never wanted this future. It wasn’t my dream, but his.”
Jisung felt the pain in his voice, and the hurt in his heart. Wasn’t it the burden of all children, to live their parents’ dreams for them? A replica for their failures, a second attempt at success. Jisung couldn’t relate, he had forsaken his parents a long time ago, and they had too.
“I don’t want to go back to uni, I’m dying there…” Minho confessed, almost ashamed of his feelings. After all his father had done, this was how he repaid him?
“You know I haven’t been doing this business for a long time. But I just needed money as quickly as possible to pay him back before I free myself,” Minho sounded serious, determined, as if nothing could stray him away from his goal. It surprised Jisung.
“Before I finally do what I dream of…”
“Which is assassinating people?” Jisung raised an eyebrow, the older finally looking back at him. Both unable to keep a faint smile from appearing on their faces, both knowing how absurd that sounded. That wasn’t a dream, that was a curse.
“I’ve always wanted to be a professional archer,” Minho looked away, smiling as he recalled memories from his childhood. “I was quite good at it, you know…”
When Minho scored the first ten of his life, he was eleven years old. He still saw the arrow planting itself in the yellow inner circle of the target. It didn’t make him win the competition, but he felt so proud of himself that day. His father worked and unfortunately couldn’t make it. And he had run back to his house to tell him all about his success, and his father had listened. Too bad, his only words afterwards were to remind Minho he had maths homework to finish.
“It’s just… Well, my father didn’t want me to waste my life or my potential, whatever he called it.”
Jisung’s hands tingled. If they had a mind of their own, they would have reached to rub Minho’s back gently, to comfort him and share his pain. Families weren’t always a gift, and sometimes – most times – they were a burden.
“I guess I still have potential in archery,” Minho joked to bury the pain. “It’s convenient to kill people and earn a lot of money in a short time though. Thank god I’m skilled enough.”
“Not enough seeing your face,” Jisung attempted a joke, his heart still sinking at the sight of Minho’s bruised body and wounded cheek. It made the older chuckle, and he felt grateful for that.
“When we finish this mission, I’ll repay my father entirely. I won’t have any debts towards him and I’ll finally live normally.”
Hope in his voice and in his heart, he completely believed in what he said. And Jisung believed him, he almost pictured himself by his side. Maybe Jisung wasn’t destined for a normal life, but he could try. With Minho by his side, he could get a taste of what everyone experienced.
With Minho by his side…
“I’ll stop this business, become a better archer and win competitions. Who knows, maybe I’ll go to the Olympics one day…”
It hurt his jaw when he smiled, but he didn’t let his grin falter. The future awaiting him made it worth it to take all these blows.
“I know you will,” Jisung smiled at him, and their eyes met, full of hope and nostalgia of a future that could never happen.
“And you’ll come with me,” Minho blushed, staring at his fingers to not confront Jisung’s surprised and flustered eyes. “To protect me in case…”
“I didn’t know you needed protection,” Jisung chuckled a bit, fighting his demons to not brush the strands of hair away from Minho’s eyes and kiss him again, without hesitation this time. With all the despair and love he contained in his body, daring to risk it all again. Misreading the signs, Jisung’s life story.
“Look at me, of course I need it,” Minho joked again, looking at Jisung who didn’t look away, taking in his perfect face, drowning in his shining brown eyes, desperate to lick the wound on his lips. Freak.
“You do look horrible,” he lied, chuckling with Minho, their bodies brushing next to each other, not minding it anymore. But laughing too much made Minho wince, those secret wounds he didn’t tell Jisung about. And the younger saw everything, but he didn’t mention any of it. Minho surely had a reason to not tell him.
Minho didn’t want to show Jisung the massive bruise on his stomach, he didn’t want to be any more of a loser in the younger’s eyes. Honestly, he had joked about needing his protection, but he didn’t joke much. Part of his heart believed it. He was a walking disaster, for himself mostly.
And their chuckles died softly in the night, Minho yawning sooner than he would have wanted, fatigue crawling up his veins.
Their hands rested on the bed in between them, fingers barely a centimetre away. Jisung wanted to touch the tip of Minho’s finger softly, to take the older’s hand in his, to brush his thumb on the back of his hand. To alleviate the pain, to show him love.
But Minho moved away, mentally preparing to get up, use his leg again and limp back to his room. “I should go to sleep.”
He groaned a bit, putting weigh on his ankle but Jisung grabbed his arm before he could move, both flustered at his sudden action.
“You can stay here,” he suggested, blushing and biting his bottom lip in sudden embarrassment. It endeared Minho nonetheless.
“I don’t want to bother you,” he looked at the bed, big enough for the two of them. Minho craved the intimacy as much as he feared it. His heart was beating fast, but not as fast as Jisung’s. Once again, the younger’s attempts remaining fruitless. He’d have to get used to it, Minho just didn’t love him back.
“Unless…” Minho started, observing the despair slowly overtaking Jisung. The younger had waited for him all night, had tended to his wounds, had listened to his worries. Shouting at Minho because he was scared of losing him, maybe he just needed to see the older and feel him close, to not be scared again, to appease his heart. Minho couldn’t make him suffer an endless time tonight.
“… do you want me to stay here?”
His soft voice made Jisung nod instantly, still looking at the ground to not show how desperate he was. And Minho smiled, crawling onto the bed, wincing every time he used his muscles, the fabric of his clothes brushing on his cuts and scraped skin.
“I sleep against the wall then,” he engulfed himself in the blankets, Jisung still sitting on the edge of the bed, calming down his heart.
He instantly switched the lights off, hiding his embarrassingly blushing cheeks in the darkness and joining Minho under the covers. What was he even doing?
He didn’t dare move, resting on his back just like Minho next to him, unable to find a more comfortable position for his ankle. Once again, he could feel the warmth of Minho’s body against his skin, radiating to his bones, a constant sign that he was lying right next to him, sharing his bed for the first time.
But the intimacy was too sudden, too big for Jisung who had been craving this for a while now. Faced with his ultimate desire, he didn’t know what to do. Turn around and face Minho, wish him good night, progressively get closer and hug the older. Finally release all his stress in Minho’s arms, finally be held tight by the one he loved. Calm down heart, please don’t get too worked up over this. Please. Distract yourself.
“Should I schedule an alarm for you?” he suggested, remembering Minho was supposed to go to university the next morning. Or well, it all depended on his ankle, he guessed. Maybe he would think it over, refuse, and decide to stay with Jisung longer. Heal properly, who knows…
“Yes, please,” Minho hummed, fatigue already overtaking him.
So, Jisung scheduled it, at the exact time Minho usually set it, hating that it would ring so early. And he stayed there, his back turned towards Minho, not daring to sleep in any other way. A boundary he set with himself, to not fall deeper, to not believe too much in anything happening. He was just sharing a bed with his roommate, no need to make a big thing out of it…
“Jisung?” Minho’s soft voice whispered, calling the younger who turned around towards him, suddenly worried if he needed anything.
“Thank you for everything. Thank you for caring about me…” his voice died down, and Jisung almost heard himself confess back. I love you. He held himself.
“Sleep now,” he whispered back softly, staying on his back, thinking for a long time until he heard Minho’s breath calming down, the older falling asleep less than five minutes later.
If the image of Minho’s body so close to him had left Jisung’s mind, then maybe he would have found sleep earlier. But he fell asleep an hour later, and despite having only a few hours of rest, they were by far the most peaceful he ever had.
So much that when he woke up the next day, the sweet sound of his gentle alarm filling up the room, he was fully turned towards Minho, his knees almost touching the older’s thighs, his hands resting over Minho’s biceps.
It took him a few seconds to realize his new position and closeness to the older, a few more seconds to realize Minho wasn’t sleeping either and had probably woken up a bit earlier than the alarm. Looking at him adoringly, allowing him in his space, observing Jisung’s waking up process with soft eyes. His round cheeks squished against the pillow, his ruffled hair and tiny hands on his skin. Minho could stay there all day, just watching him, melting in his touch.
But Jisung finally realized how intimate it felt and he backed away, blushing and stuttering instantly. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I-I didn’t know, I moved in my sleep I think…”
Minho turned around to lie on his side, fully observing Jisung’s back, smiling to himself. “I don’t mind, it’s cute.”
Fuck being cute, hold me in your arms and hug me tight if you don’t mind…
But Jisung didn’t turn back and Minho chuckled softly as he ruffled the younger’s hair, sitting up on the bed in a groan. His muscles were even sorer in the morning, cold from the night.
His touch tingled Jisung, unused to tenderness and gentle gestures. But Minho’s whimpers made the younger turn around this time, staring worryingly at the ankle he pulled out of the blanket. It looked less swollen than before, good news. Bad news, it was still as red, and judging by Minho’s face, it still hurt when he pressed on it with his fingers.
“Are you sure you should go today?” Jisung spoke out, his raspy voice barely making it out of his throat. It did something to Minho, something he didn’t really know how to explain, something similar to arousal, despite the pain crawling back up his body. If he drowned himself in painkillers, he’d be fine.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” Minho left the warmth underneath the blankets, pulling them back up to not expose Jisung to the cold air. Jisung tried to not think too much about it. He failed.
Each one of Minho’s groans resonated in his mind, and unfortunately it attracted him more and more as time passed, arousing and turning him on as he observed the older getting up. Minho breathed a few times, testing out his ankle. Relief when he could walk easier than yesterday, winces when he put his entire weight on it and received an electrical shot from his foot and up his leg.
But the more he stood up and warmed his joints, the less pain he felt. That reassured him and when he thought about leaving the room, he turned back to look at Jisung, the younger’s eyes lost on him. Still half asleep and in a haze, he didn’t even realize how curious his eyes were, detailing Minho’s muscles, his figure, his prominent bulge in those sweatpants.
It made Minho blush, and Jisung blinked back to Earth, his eyes finding Minho’s again.
“Call me if you need anything,” he told Minho, his voice still raspy, mouth covered by the blanket over his nose.
And Minho bit his bottom lip, resisting the urge to go back and kiss him. He was too cute to be resisted any longer. If Jisung asked him, Minho would kiss his lips without hesitation. But he remained silent and turned away, figuring out he wouldn’t ruin whatever was going on between them. He wasn’t sure after all, maybe his heart made it all up to make up for the loneliness he’d been feeling all this time. He couldn’t trust his heart, it fell for the first sign of attention.
So, he left the room, waving bye to Jisung who struggled to pull a hand out of the covers, only clenching his fingers as a wave back. Minho sighed, one day he would eat him all. He closed the door, leaving Jisung to his bed, the younger’s bedroom turning quiet before the apartment turned quiet as well a few minutes later, Minho leaving for the day.
And Jisung rolled onto Minho’s side, melting in the remaining warmth of his body, in the shape of his head imprinted on the pillow, in the smell of his shampoo soaking his sheets. And well, Jisung ignored how hard he was right now. Maybe he was still not fully awake, but his eyes remembered Minho in those sweatpants and that didn’t help his growing bulge. Drowning in his smell, he fell back to sleep a few minutes later, hugging the pillow and imagining Minho in his arms, trapping the blanket in between his legs to make up for Minho’s body. Maybe he did dry hump it a little bit unconsciously, but Jisung would never admit it willingly. Rather over his dead body!
He managed to sleep for a few more hours, the longest he had ever been able to without his brain forcing nightmary visions in front of his eyes, making him bolt in panic, sweating and panting. Jisung couldn’t deny it, Minho had calmed him down. Minho made his life better, undeniably.
Remaining in his bed for as long as he could, holding onto the memory of Minho’s body next to him, he eventually got up when he realized the day would soon be over. Minho had insisted, but Jisung felt bad for letting him go to university on foot. It could only make his ankle worse.
So, he grabbed his keys and rode his motorcycle, parking it in front of the university, half an hour before six. Tuesday. Minho finished classes early and went to practice archery. Without fail. Well, he could only train twice a week, so he wouldn’t miss a practice session for anything in the world.
Jisung headed to the gymnasium, walking amongst students, almost belonging here, in this world he had become estranged from. But even if he didn’t belong in it anymore, Minho still had his chance. And the older made Jisung believe a better life was possible for him too. He could see him through the windows, aiming at the target in front of him, focusing on nothing else but the black cross in that yellow circle. Jisung would give Minho the world if he could.
He entered the gymnasium as silently as possible to not disturb any of the archers, sitting in a dim corner of the stands to remain as hidden as possible but still keeping Minho in his sight. Taking an arrow from the quiver, he was preparing to shoot another time.
Each of his arrows hit the central part of the target, his worst score was a 9, out of 10. But no surprise, Jisung saw it in the way Minho took in a deep breath before lifting his bow, how each of his movement was precise and rehearsed, accurate muscle memory kicking in. He drew the bow as he aimed, breathing slowly until the string touched the tip of his nose and lips, and Minho stopped breathing completely, releasing the arrow to hit another perfect score.
Jisung wished he was the string against his lips sometimes. Every time.
If Minho wanted him as company if he ever went to competitions or the Olympics, Jisung would oblige without resistance. He could feed off watching Minho’s focused face and tensed body, muscles and veins popping out as he pulled on the string. And yet, it all looked easy to him, delicate even. The bow acting as an extension of his arm, Minho didn’t hold the handle, his fingers barely rested on the string, ready to release the arrow at the exact moment needed.
Sometimes he puffed to get the hair out of his eyes, sometimes he stretched his neck. Anytime, Jisung felt his breath stop for a bit.
Jisung figured he was not hurting as much as yesterday, using both of his feet to aim and keep steady, the arrow finding the middle of the target. Again. The archers next to him regularly glanced at him, at his stance, at his results. And most of them sighed, knowing they could only dream of achieving his talent.
The cups and medals in his room, the poster for next week’s competition glued to the wall, his dream of turning professional. Jisung had no doubt he could do it, he didn’t even need to train more to win. His level was already quite high, maybe not enough for the Olympics, but soon enough it could be within his reach.
They had to finish the mission first, and Jisung hoped Minho would be ready for the competition Monday, his foot and body in a good overall condition. Because he still limped slightly every time he walked to the target to fetch his arrows, and Jisung almost heard his muffled winces. He had to get better and then his dream would be within reach.
Only if they made it out of the counsellor’s house alive…
He still didn’t know how Minho could hide in plain sight, no matter the makeup, Jisung was certain the counsellor would recognize him. But well, they only needed to enter the house, for the guards to accept Minho instead of the missing guest, and then they could hide for as long as the party lasted, only leaving their hiding place to jump onto the counsellor once he slept peacefully.
But killing him didn’t mean much, they had to look through every incriminating document in his office. And that meant releasing everything to the press, every proof and every name. Jisung knew how shocking the revelations would be, how the public would lose trust in any political figure, how businesses would crumble and economy would collapse, urging protests from the masses and a revolution eventually crushing everything they knew. Would he be ready to destroy his country? Wasn’t it worth it? To burn everything to the ground for a fresh start?
He risked losing everything he ever knew in this fight, he risked his own life when killing the counsellor was easier than destroying the entire country. Everyone would be on his trail, to seek vengeance. He risked Minho’s life with his own; the older consented still. If they would burn the world to the ground, Minho would light the match first, watching as it set the country aflame.
Would they risk it all for the greater good?
A soft ringing took Jisung out of his mind, eyes settling again on Minho, the older cleaning his practice spot. Jisung stepped out of the darkness, walking towards Minho who eventually noticed him, surprised, blushing a bit. It almost made him drop his quiver.
“What are you doing here?” he looked around, the other archers glancing at them curiously.
“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Jisung smiled at the older, observing his face thoroughly. He had hidden the wounds with makeup again.
“How are you?”
Minho grabbed his bow and walked towards the bench, still limping slightly. “Better, it doesn’t hurt too much anymore.”
Jisung raised an eyebrow when he sat in a groan, his stomach still hurting. Minho met his eyes and sighed, smiling a bit.
“I swear I’m fine, stop worrying.”
Jisung hummed, sure Minho was hiding something from him but well, he wouldn’t push him to confess right now.
“Your foot?” he crouched down to look at the older’s ankle, making his ears redden and his teeth bite his bottom lip.
“Less swollen,” Minho managed to say, turning his head away when Jisung looked up at him, unable to take the sight of the younger in front of him without wanting to kiss him.
“You shouldn’t have walked this morning,” he spoke to himself, regretting staying in bed when he could have driven Minho there and helped him heal faster.
“I’m not so fragile, I’m not made of sugar you know,” Minho chuckled, packing his bag.
You’re sweet though…
Jisung got back up, looking at Minho and waiting for him to finish packing, now the last ones in the gymnasium. Maybe he could just brush the strands of hair off his face. Nobody would know, right?
“What are you looking at?” Minho chuckled again, cheeks burning under Jisung’s incessant stare. And now, they both were a blushing mess.
“Nothing, just… let’s get you home,” Jisung pulled the motorcycle keys from his pocket, Minho smiling to himself. He could walk, he loved Jisung for forbidding him to. Made his stomach all fuzzy.
He hummed, but getting up from the bench shouldn’t have made him suffer so much. Jisung extended his arm as soon as he noticed Minho struggled to get back up, his left ankle sending electric shocks through his leg. Minho grabbed his arm in a reflex, holding onto it tight as he stood up, stabilizing the weight.
Jisung stared at him, worried, but Minho released his arm, grinning. “See, I’m fine.”
And Jisung would’ve punched him if he wasn’t so wounded. Instead, he sighed and walked away, Minho following in his trail, wincing slightly with every step.
But Jisung eventually slowed down to walk by Minho’s side, the older smiling at him when he felt their shoulders touching as they walked. None of them bothered by the contact, none of them pulling away. If only, they craved it.
“I think I should stop coming here,” Minho voiced out as they passed the gates, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Jisung didn’t catch it.
“Finally! You have to rest for a few weeks though before you come back to class, not just two days,” he warned him, but Minho’s sad smile silenced him instantly. Did he say something wrong?
“I didn’t think of coming back…”
“Oh...” Jisung looked at him, but Minho didn’t stare back. The ground seemed way more comforting in this moment.
“As soon as we finish this mission, dead or alive, I won’t come back either way. I should focus on Sunday, to make sure I never get to step foot in one of those maths class anymore,” he laughed but he spoke the truth, and Jisung knew it.
Minho didn’t want to bring the mood down, but honestly, he really hoped he would be able to do what he wanted, and that the reason he never stepped foot at the university would be to pursue his dream, not the result of a failed mission and a fatal blow.
“So, you’ll stay at the apartment and rest?” Jisung asked as he reached his motorcycle, raising an eyebrow, knowing that was far from Minho’s idea.
The older chuckled, a bit embarrassed and disappointed. “I, uh… yeah sure…” he smiled at Jisung who couldn’t resist it. The younger still rolled his eyes and handed him the helmet, once again not caring about his opinion or his protests to let Jisung protect himself first.
“You better heal that ankle,” he warned as he sat on the motorcycle, soon joined by Minho. “I’m not taking a crippled guy with me at the party.”
Jisung smiled and when he heard Minho’s chuckles behind him, he started the engine, content to have his arms around his waist again, to finally take care of him properly.
The next days resembled each other, Jisung leaving in the morning a silent apartment to spend the day spying on their target. Following him at his senior government official job, to premium bars getting drunk with his friends, back to his luxurious apartment at night. Jisung wanted to know the guest perfectly, to trap him in the safest way, to ensure the success of their mission.
At first, he didn’t see much why Minho and him looked alike, but maybe he had just drowned too deep into Minho’s eyes, the older’s features printed into his retina, so much he couldn’t see him in anyone else. But the more he looked at the target’s big brown eyes, long black hair and sharp nose, the less he could ignore the resemblance. And once he saw Minho in that guy, he struggled to think properly about the mission. His sole goal to go back to the apartment and find Minho again.
Every moment away from the older felt like a dagger stirring through Jisung’s heart, not knowing how he was, if he needed anything, not seeing him by his side, not feeling his warmth. The target could look like Minho all he wanted, it still didn’t feel like sitting in front of the older, didn’t feel like talking about some stupid videos with him, didn’t feel like sleeping next to him, drowning in his warmth. And every time he came back home late at night to find Minho’s smiling face greeting him, Jisung realized maybe life was worth living, that happiness could be reached and he deserved it as well.
Reluctantly, the older listened to Jisung’s pleas and spent his days in his room or on the couch, not moving if he could avoid it. Too difficult for Minho to not do anything at all for the first time in his life, he still moved around the house, cleaning bits here and there, making food despite Jisung’s scolding that came every night, pressuring him into resting at the utmost possible. They could order food, why was he so entitled?
But Minho just wanted to show him how much he was grateful, how much he wanted to repay Jisung’s kindness and take care of the younger in return. Maybe that was guilt, maybe that was love. Both, he figured.
And Jisung didn’t dare take too much of his time, he already went home quite late and Minho needed to sleep, needed to get better. Even if sleeping turned out to be more difficult than he expected, only thinking about the empty pillow by his side. But he shouldn’t disturb Minho’s sleep, shouldn’t share a bed with him again. What if Minho refused? What if he thought Jisung was a loser for needing him? Wasn’t it the truth after all?
No need to stress Minho out right now. So, after his usual scolding, Jisung rushed to his room as quickly as possible every night, unknowingly disappointing the older who already spent rather lonely days. Still, Minho’s injuries improved, and Jisung turned out to be right, as usual. It made him feel superior but this smug face he kept giving Minho, was it bad the older wanted to kiss it desperately?
The cuts on Minho’s body had closed and only remained temporary scars that would fade in a few days, next to bruises that had turned green and started to disappear. His knees struggled to heal properly, but they didn’t bother him to walk. Only the wide bruise on his stomach remained and hurt still, whereas his foot had improved significantly. If Minho walked carefully, he could spend an entire day standing without hurting too much.
Which was why he literally begged Jisung on Thursday night to let him leave the apartment the next day and spy alongside the younger, to see for himself what the guest behaved like in real life, not just from Jisung’s impression, even if he believed his words like the younger was a god.
And Jisung had cracked under the pressure, taking Minho with him the next day, carefully monitoring his physical condition. It reassured him when the older seemed fine, when he didn’t show any sign of pain on his face as he walked or talked.
They sat at the restaurant the guest always visited for lunch, their table a bit far away from the guest’s usual seat. Both of them waited for their target, before focusing on the man in front of them. They observed each other’s details, softly, silently. Minho’s hand resting on the table, how would he react if Jisung suddenly held it? And those lips he desperately wanted to kiss, would Minho dive into him as well?
Once again, his long hair hid part of his eyes, and Jisung finally listened to his intrusive thoughts, finally stopped worrying about consequences and acted. He leaned forward, his hand gently reaching for Minho’s face, tucking the few strands of hair behind his ear. Jisung loved his long black hair, but he loved his eyes more. They seemed to hold stars in them, and for some reason, Jisung found comfort in them. He had longed to see stars for so long, the city didn’t allow them to shine in the night anymore. He never expected to find the universe in Minho’s eyes.
Minho chuckled shyly at the gesture, looking away as his ears reddened, unused to such a delicate touch. If he had stars in his eyes, it was only because they reflected Jisung. Could it be that Jisung actually wanted him? Could it be that Minho wasn’t alone in this fantasy? That it was love indeed, and reciprocated for once.
And as they were comfortably taking in each other’s details, fleeting glances sent to the other’s lips, they almost missed the guest sitting at his usual table. But they gasped when they saw him talking with his friends, forgetting all about their seeming date.
He was blonde. Completely blonde.
It was already hard enough for Minho with the deep cut on his cheek and the bruise on his face to disguise as this guy, but now he’d have to dye his hair as well!? He sighed, he had never done this and he loved his natural colour. He didn’t want to change it.
“Guess we’ll have to dye your hair,” Jisung observed, imagining Minho with blonde hair, the opposite of his current colour. It looked too good to be true honestly.
“I’ll help you, don’t worry,” he laughed when he noticed Minho already looking up how to dye hair at home on the internet. It didn’t seem too complicated and it reassured the older, but now he hated the guest even more. That would just make it easier to kill him, not leaving room for remorse. As if his embezzlement and peculation of public funds wasn’t enough.
So, that was how Jisung found himself lost for an hour in a supermarket, examining more than twenty different brands of hair dye, trying to find the one that resembled the guest’s hair colour the most. But well, Jisung had made this difficult for himself. He had forced Minho to stay home to spare his ankle for one more day, his spying session yesterday remained just as it was, exceptional…
And now the younger didn’t have much time to spare because he also had to buy their suits next. They couldn’t just go to the party with cheap worn-out suits. His own suit actually had a hole in his left shoulder. Some say it was caused by a bullet… Jisung had always remained silent about it.
Still, he lost a few hours in different clothing stores. Picking up his own suit wasn’t much of a problem, after all he was just a bodyguard, he only needed a plain black suit and that would be more than enough.
But Minho’s outfit had to be luxurious, had to be eye-catching. And after too much overthinking and pondering, he ended up choosing a white linen and silk suit, guessing white would always mean upper class. It would actually suit his blonde hair, and contrast his skin perfectly. Even if the younger had to sell a kidney to afford it. But as soon as he had bought it, Jisung rushed home to make Minho try the suit on because he was that eager to see how handsome the older would look in them.
The white colour didn’t make Minho smile too much, he rather hated it being so eye-catching, hated to be the centre of attention. But well, he didn’t have much of a choice, right? The party was tomorrow, and they had to kill the guest beforehand. They didn’t have time to go suit-shopping on a Sunday morning…
“Are you serious?” the older had said, eyeing the suit up and down before accepting his fate and sighing loudly, Jisung’s smile the only answer he needed.
They both went to their respective bedroom to change, Jisung completing his outfit with a white shirt and a black tie, adding nice formal shoes he would have to dust properly before leaving tomorrow. He was ready way before Minho, and it made him nervous, or rather eager. He walked around the apartment, pacing back and forth, imagining the older in the suit and then losing his mind over the lustful depiction of Minho his mind came up with.
But when the older came back fully dressed in the living room, Jisung’s jaw dropped to the ground. Whatever his brain had imagined, it was ten times worse for his sanity.
He actually couldn’t believe white suited Minho so much, the suit looked tailored on him, kissing the shape of his shoulders, contrasting the long black hair reaching the collar of the vest. The pants fitted him perfectly, tight enough to carve out the shape of his hips, loose enough to let your brain guess the muscles that hid underneath.
Minho had added a white shirt underneath, but he had not bothered putting a tie or buttoning up entirely, the sight of his bare skin already flustering Jisung. But the younger lost his sanity when he saw Minho had added a long necklace, his chest covered with shining silver and a few crystal beads, drawing attention exactly where he wanted people to look. The formal wear didn’t please Minho, but when he saw Jisung burning red in front of him, eyes locked on the jewellery on his chest, he smirked to himself. This would work perfectly.
“What is this?” Jisung asked, stopping his brain from picturing Minho wearing the necklace without any clothes on. He was going to die.
“What?” Minho dared to provoke him, looking at his outfit before taking the necklace in his fingers, the beads singing a tune that hypnotized Jisung. “Oh, this? Do you like it?”
And Jisung only nodded in silence, trying to erase the blush from his face. But more time passed, and more shameless he felt. Minho wanted him to stare, he would stare then.
“I thought he’d wear something like that,” the older explained as he remembered how many rings and necklaces the guest owned. He loved jewellery, that suited the mission perfectly. Plus, he never wore a tie despite working in a suit all day.
So, Minho copied him, leaving the last three buttons of his shirt open. He added the necklace to not be too bland and boring, the guest was after all a show-off before anything. And well, he had bought this on the internet yesterday, looking at ideas for unique formal outfits, because he was getting dressed for some upper-class party after all. They all wore outstanding outfits to showcase their fortune or charms, he had to play the superiority complex game. The necklace had cost him dearly and he needed to make it worth the money. You don’t think crystals are free, do you?
“Lost your tongue, Jisung?” he teased, seeing the younger’s slightly agape mouth, completely lost in thoughts. He blinked back quickly, embarrassed.
“It’s good, it’s uh… it’s perfect,” he mumbled out, the sincerity reaching Minho’s heart, making him blush in return.
“You’re not bad either…” Shy chuckles resonated in the apartment, both of them too flustered to realize how fond they were of each other.
“You just need to become blonde now,” Jisung looked at his hair to distract himself from his chest, nostalgic as much as excited. He loved Minho’s natural hair, and part of him felt like dying it in any other colour would only denature him. And yet, Jisung could kill to see him blonde right now. He had this intuition that a light colour would suit him. Don’t ask him why, his brain had just developed a bias towards the older.
Minho sighed, taking off the vest to go and change outfit. Jisung stared at his chest again, the crystals ringing against each other, drawing eyes towards his pecs. Not mentioning the pants perfectly shaping his butt… Jisung couldn’t stop himself from staring when Minho turned back until he reached his room, the door being the only rampart between Jisung and his self-control. Get a grip.
Minho freed himself and changed back to regular clothes, knocking on Jisung’s door barely a minute later, the hair dye in his hand. “So, how do I do that exactly?”
Dressed in his regular joggers and t-shirt combo, it only made Jisung salivate at the idea of seeing him blonde in this simple outfit. He knew it would suit him perfectly.
“Come here,” he grabbed the kit from Minho’s hand, the older following him to the bathroom.
Jisung set up a towel on the ground next to the bathtub, doubling it in thickness to accommodate Minho’s legs in a better way. Letting the water run to heat it up, he grabbed another towel and put it on the older’s shoulders, grabbing the few strands of hair trapped underneath the fabric. The touch made Minho shiver.
“You can sit here,” Jisung pointed at the towel on the ground, Minho obliging as the younger looked for gloves and his own dyeing tools.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Minho dared to ask, carefully reading the package instructions.
But Jisung was already preparing the bleach kit, mixing it as if he had already done it a hundred times. “Don’t worry, I dyed my hair a few times already.”
He didn’t reassure Minho, the older looking apprehensively at the mixing bowl in his hands.
“We’ll bleach it first,” Jisung explained softly, sitting on a chair behind Minho and softly brushing his hair with a comb. “Tell me if it hurts.”
But it didn’t hurt, quite the opposite. Every finger touching his hair and scalp was heaven-sent, a pure shot of bliss running through Minho’s blood. He could’ve fell asleep under Jisung’s touch, trusting him completely as he applied the bleach. Even if he looked completely stupid once Jisung was done and had to wait thirty minutes with a stupid plastic cap on. But Jisung’s laugh upon seeing him made it alright, enjoyable even.
Jisung prepared the dye and cleaned the tools he needed to use again, eventually keeping as quiet as possible when he noticed Minho was calm and resting his head against the edge of the bathtub, maybe napping, maybe close to sleeping after his soothing touches.
And when thirty minutes had passed, Jisung gently rubbed Minho’s shoulder, slowly bringing the older back to reality, blinking sleepily at him when he sat straight again. Jisung couldn’t hide a fond smile when he saw the red line painted on Minho’s forehead, the bathtub leaving a temporary mark to his face. Just adorable.
He partially unwrapped the older’s head, checking if the bleach had been effective enough. Satisfied of the results, Jisung then carefully took off the plastic cap, grabbing the shower head.
“I have to rinse it,” he explained softly to a yawning Minho. “Head in the tub now.”
The older didn’t question him much, but he winced a bit when he kneeled to put his head over in the bathtub, the wounds still not healed.
“Is it okay in this position? We can find something else if–”
“I’m fine,” Minho cut him off, not willing to let Jisung worry for him again.
Jisung didn’t argue and simply brought his legs around the older to access his head more easily, flustering Minho who froze a bit with the body circling him. Almost trapping him.
“Close your eyes,” Jisung warned, running warm water through Minho’s hair and scrubbing the bleach out of it. “Is the temperature ok?”
Minho nodded, unable to open his mouth without eating bleach. He hated the way water streamed down his hair to his face, how the tip of his nose had become a waterfall and the way some water still found a way to tickle his nape and roll down his spine. Yet, he didn’t want it to end. Jisung’s hand in his hair, no matter how rough or quick it moved, it was still Jisung’s touch on his body. Part of him had craved it for too long, he couldn’t wish for it to end, no matter what.
But Jisung’s hand left Minho’s head after a quick shampooing, and the comfort it brought disappeared as well, leaving his hair dripping wet and the cold air hitting his scalp.
But to his greatest pleasure, they came back soon, brushing his hair with a towel, drying them as much as he could. His roughness made Minho’s head rock back and forth, and Jisung erupted in laughter, Minho echoing him.
“Sorry,” he apologized with a huge smile on his face when Minho turned back to look at him, a fake glare on his face. But Jisung just fondly tucked the strands of hair from his face, plunging deep into his eyes. Almost drowning.
He looked at the results, ignoring Minho’s soft wide eyes staring back at him, sighing to himself and biting his bottom lip to win this internal battle. The bleaching process had worked well enough, even if some strands had turned a bit more yellow than others. But well, they didn’t have more bleach nor time, and the blonde dye would hide it well enough. After all, it only needed to work for one day, then Minho could dye it back to black all he wanted.
“What?” he asked Minho, focusing back on the older when he hadn’t looked away ever since Jisung had first laid eyes on him.
But Minho just blinked away slowly, resting his chin on the edge of the bathtub, awaiting the next step. “What do we do now?”
“Now I make your dream come true,” Jisung teased, Minho looking back at him confused. After all, his dream included sloppy kisses, and he doubted Jisung would give him that right now. Or ever.
“In less than an hour, you’ll become a blondie,” his excitement annoyed Minho and yet, his smile told the truth. The younger could do whatever he wanted to him, he would accept it all. He knew it. He needed to do it for the mission, and if it made Jisung happy at the same time, then that was a nice bonus.
So, he patiently waited for Jisung to completely blow dry his hair, resting his chin on the edge of the bathtub again. And soon came the brush, applying the dye as quickly as possible, to not bother Minho for too long.
“You’re doing great,” Jisung eventually encouraged the older when he was halfway through the waiting time. But Minho huffed and sat back cross-legged, giving his knees a rest.
Jisung’s eyes went wide at the sight of a brownish and red stain on both of his knees. “Are you okay?”
He reached towards the older amidst his cleaning, but Minho whined, getting a bit away from him. “Please, Jisung. I’m fine, really.”
“But your knees…”
Minho knew his wounds were still open, he felt it every time his joggers rubbed directly onto his skin, like sandpaper skinning him alive. That didn’t mean he needed help constantly, that didn’t mean Jisung had to worry about him. That didn’t mean he had to be pathetic and weak about it.
“I’ll just wear bandages tomorrow to not stain the suit.”
Great idea the white suit, Jisung… He felt stupid now. But honestly, he didn’t care much about the suit right now.
“Hey I’m fine look,” Minho smiled to Jisung, a failed attempt to reassure him. “I’m not made of sugar once again.”
But you’re made of skin and bones… and sometimes you bleed.
Jisung fought against himself to not reply back but he just couldn’t tolerate the possibility of Minho hurting, and it made his heart ache, to know Minho was not immune to pain.
“How long until I look normal again?” Minho asked to change subject, getting tired of waiting again and again. After all, they had been there for almost two hours now.
“Fifteen minutes,” Jisung resumed cleaning his tools, trapping his worries back into his heart.
And Minho hadn’t felt as relieved as when Jisung grabbed the shower head to clean the dye from his hair. After a tough battle, Jisung turned off the water and engulfed Minho’s head in a towel. He dried his hair as quickly as he could, eager to see the results. And when Minho turned his head to face him, he actually felt his heart skip a beat.
But faced with silence, Minho worried instantly. “Don’t tell me you messed it up,” he got up to look at himself in the mirror.
“No, it’s just… it suits you really well,” Jisung blushed when his eyes found the older’s, surprised. It boosted Minho’s ego, and he passed his hand through his hair, ruffling them to accustom his eyes to his new self.
The blonde hair softened every feature on his face, and even if it changed his appearance, he still looked as pretty as always. And Jisung couldn’t keep his adoration to himself.
“You’re beautiful…”
He heard the words slip past his mouth, he heard his heart break in embarrassment, he recognized every time he made mistakes. And too focused on himself, he didn’t even realize Minho was staring at him fondly.
“You’re beautiful too.”
His words froze the younger for an instant, eyes locking as their hearts synced. Both of them wanting to take a step towards the other, to link hands and touch lips. They both desired it, they both feared it. None of them could handle risking their relationship. Or well, Minho could.
He daringly stepped forward, but Jisung unfroze at the same moment, Minho closing in stressing him suddenly. “Now, you’re all ready for tomorrow.”
He grabbed the towels laying around and left the bathroom quickly to do a laundry. Minho followed him around, confused if he had unknowingly offended the younger and made a huge mistake, but Jisung was too flustered to even look back at him.
“You should sleep,” he suggested, occupying his brain with laundry to not stare back at Minho. “You’ll need it.”
“Jisung–”
“Please,” he almost whined, Minho dancing on his last straw, almost convincing the younger to fall definitely for him, to ruin whatever they had successfully built up until here. He couldn’t listen to the demon whispering on his shoulders.
And so, Minho grabbed his bleeding heart and left, closing his bedroom door and giving Jisung time to think. Maybe it was all going too fast for him, maybe Minho did misread signs everywhere.
Jisung headed to his own room with a heavy heart, overthinking his pathetic escape, unable to focus on anything else but what just happened. He feared misreading the situation once again, but Minho had leaned towards him, right? He was going to kiss him, right? Don’t, heart. Please don’t…
Jisung tried to sleep, tried to stop his mind from thinking about Minho, but after all he missed the older’s body next to his and he could only fear the mission tomorrow. If they failed, maybe he would never feel Minho’s body next to him. And that couldn’t happen. Never.
So, he grabbed his courage and knocked on the older’s door an hour later, soft knocks, hesitating. “Can I come in?”
He heard ruffling inside, a distant “yeah” as Jisung wondered what Minho was doing. He risked opening the door, only to find Minho on his bed, head and arms hanging down as he was hiding something under the mattress.
“Fucking hell…” he cursed under his breath, springing back up when Jisung opened the door, panting a bit.
Jisung saw a bit of the pink plush he kept in his bed on the ground, his attempt at hiding it a failure. It endeared him, that Minho somehow cared about his opinions, somehow didn’t want to look like a loser who needed a plushie to sleep. If only he knew how much Jisung specifically loved that about him.
“You know, I’ve already seen it the other day when I grabbed the shirt in your closet.”
“Oh…” Minho blushed, looking away embarrassed. It made Jisung chuckle fondly.
“It’s cute, I like it,” he dared to step inside the room.
“Whatever…” Minho muttered under his breath, still embarrassed. Twenty-six years old and he slept with a plushie. Now that was sure, he would never get anyone, and Jisung even less. So fucking lame.
“You can sit on the bed you know,” Minho patted the mattress next to him, noticing Jisung standing awkwardly in the room, not really daring to move any further.
So, Jisung obeyed, joining the older on the bed as if getting access to a previous forbidden place. It made his heart beat a little quicker.
“I can’t sleep…” he voiced out after a bit, staring at the wall in front of him, Minho’s gaze focused on his troubled face.
“Me neither,” the older answered because that was the truth, but the two of them had two completely different reasons. Minho’s brain kept torturing him with visions of kissing Jisung but Jisung… Well…
“I’m scared about tomorrow,” he struggled to admit, almost scared to speak out his thoughts. How could he be scared about a mission? Hadn’t he done that for years now? Shouldn’t he be accustomed? Fear… Something he shouldn’t even remember. Well, Minho awoke that in him.
“I keep asking myself, what if I forgot something? What if we get caught? What if we can’t get out of the house? I don’t even know what to do if the guest is not in his apartment… Where do we kill him? Can we even kill him anymore?”
Jisung broke the final rampart confining his heart that night, speaking into reality what he had repressed for so long. He was human, not a killing machine that executed tasks and went on with its day. And Minho listened, keeping his hands to himself despite only wanting to hug Jisung, not having any other way to soothe the younger.
Deep down, they were the same. The same blood flowed through their veins, their fingers were made to intertwine and their hands to hold each other. Something about quantum physics and atom memory. How their atoms must have been linked together in the same star at the beginning of the universe, fighting through time and space to find each other, to connect again and stabilize themselves. The science of soulmates.
“I don’t think I could handle if anything happens to you…” Jisung’s voice died down, not daring to turn his head towards Minho. Why did he even say that? How stupid he was…
“What am I even saying?” he chuckled, still wiping the tears that threatened to fall, still sniffling softly. Until he felt two arms embracing him, pulling his body closer as his head reached Minho’s shoulder, resting against it.
“We’ll make it Jisung. I promise,” he placed his chin on top of the younger’s head, pulling him tighter as Jisung held onto Minho’s arm for grounding, melting in his embrace. “The two of us, we’ll care for each other, ok?”
Jisung nodded, still not moving from Minho’s arms. It sounded so simple in his mouth, so obvious. In the comfort of his body and his warmth, everything seemed so easy. They stayed that way for a bit, both melting into the other’s body, both keeping the skin contact for as long as possible. Minho hesitated, but he eventually left a gentle kiss on top of Jisung’s head, testing the waters. Jisung didn’t say anything but hummed softly, content. It satisfied Minho.
“Do you want to sleep here tonight?”
His soft voice carried a gift that went straight to Jisung’s heart. “Please…”
And Minho chuckled softly, releasing the younger from his arms as he went under the sheets, but a thought stopped him from following Jisung.
“Is it gonna stain my sheets?” Minho asked, worried about his new hair colour. But Jisung just chuckled and gently patted his hair to smooth it. Minho melted under his touch, desperate and aching for his hand to remain on his head forever.
“I removed all the excess don’t worry. And if it stains your sheets, I’ll buy you new ones.”
Jisung’s smile could heal him, Minho was sure of it.
And now, they were two under the sheets, in complete darkness as soon as Minho switched the bedside lamp off. But none of them wanted to sleep, and Jisung could feel Minho’s body near him despite not seeing it. The older was turned towards him, as if inviting him back in his arms.
This time, Jisung didn’t hesitate. After all, maybe it was the last night they spent together, he couldn’t stop himself from a hug out of fear or doubts.
He turned towards Minho as well, his hand blindly reaching in the dark to find Minho’s cheek, earning a chuckle from the two of them.
“What are you doing?” the older whispered but didn’t move, allowing him full access to his body.
Jisung’s hand wandered for a bit, caressing the older’s hair, touching his arms and playing with his fingers for a bit, all in silence as Minho felt his entire body tingling. He couldn’t resist long if Jisung kept going with his exploration.
The younger’s fingers reached Minho’s face again, trailing alongside his jawline, on his eyebrows and nose, until they rested on his lips, making the older freeze. Jisung slowly swiped his finger over Minho’s bottom lip, exploring at his own pace, wondering if he would ever kiss him again.
Until he felt Minho’s lips laying a gentle kiss on his finger, like an invitation. Minho’s body moved forward, laying another kiss on Jisung’s frozen finger, the older’s hand now on Jisung’s cheeks, his thumb circling his skin gently.
He could feel Minho’s breath on his skin, the warmth of his body against his own, so close to touching and yet still keeping a thin distance between them. A distance that would completely disappear less than ten seconds later.
“Jisung?” Minho whispered, his loving eyes a secret hidden in the darkness of his room.
The younger hummed, already out of breath, his heart beating fast and his chest contracting in anticipation, in nerves.
“Can I kiss you?”
Jisung deserved happiness too.
He closed in on Minho, the finger still on the older’s soft lips guiding him in the dark. And this time, when he kissed him, Minho kissed back. Just as hungrily and desperately. He passed his hand through Jisung’s hair, their bodies extremely close now, chests touching against each other, legs threatening to intertwine together.
In between their lips, desire and forgotten dreams of belonging to someone resurfaced. They had spent so much time alone, not forming any connections with anyone, not daring trusting someone enough to allow them in their intimacy. Minho and Jisung didn’t just exchange days or weeks of turning around each other, falling for the one that echoed them perfectly. No, it was rather a kiss for life, for a second chance. One that said you are not alone, you deserve love too.
And Jisung could feel the tears falling down his face, because for once he felt happy and he trusted someone. For once, his brain wasn’t overthinking or worrying, he was at peace. His body melting into someone else, being vulnerable felt good. Too good.
He didn’t want to act tomorrow. If only they could just live a life the two of them, where Minho competed in archery tournaments, and they didn’t have to worry about debts or loans, where counsellors weren’t looking for them. A world where they weren’t so scared to be intimate with someone, where they didn’t risk their lives doing so. What a world that would be.
Minho tasted Jisung’s salty tears on his lips and he stopped, his thumb gently wiping right under Jisung’s eyes. “Are you okay?” he whispered softly.
“Yeah,” Jisung’s voice cracked, a few more tears rolling down his cheeks. “I didn’t know I could be so happy.”
Minho melted at his words and laid a gentle kiss on Jisung’s forehead, before dragging the younger in his embrace, his small head resting against his chest. And he figured he had a new goal. To make Jisung happy at all times. Those tears he needed to release, Minho hoped they would be the last. That he would only ever cry out of happiness and not sadness anymore. That he realized he deserved to be loved and happy, more than he thought. Maybe more than others.
Jisung’s tears eventually stopped and he fell asleep against Minho’s comforting body, the two of them having the best sleep of their life that day, feeling like they had found the missing pieces of their hearts, like they completed each other. Fate, what a strange thing that was.
Chapter Text
Minho didn’t move when he woke up early the next day, gently resting his head against the younger’s. Big spooning the younger, he melted when he realized Jisung’s hands were holding his arm softly against his chest. And he enjoyed the last peaceful time they would get today, before jumping into the unknown, risking everything to finally free themselves from this cursed life they had been doomed to endure.
About an hour later, Jisung finally woke up, gaining consciousness back when he felt Minho’s arm tightly wrapped around him. And for the first time in forever, Jisung woke up with a smile. He snuggled up closer, Minho’s chest pushing against his back every time he breathed in. The arm around his chest pulled Jisung even tighter, Minho laying a gentle kiss on top of his head. Somehow, it felt as if Jisung finally had all he ever dreamed of, and it pained him to think he could lose it all tonight. He really couldn’t make a mistake.
Minho rubbed his thumb on Jisung’s hand, feeling the younger’s grip tightening and his heart beat rising. He laid another kiss on his head, on his neck, even on top of his ear. Just enough to distract Jisung from his nervous thoughts.
The younger turned around to rest against Minho’s chest, his cheeks even rounder now that they were squished against Minho. He was warm and comforting, a safety shrine that would always be there for Jisung. Hands that rubbed his back, lips that kissed his head, eyes that contemplated him.
Heaven on Earth.
Too lost in each other, they didn’t realize time passed by, inexorably leading them towards their mission and the guest’s apartment. But the alarm Jisung had set on his phone ended up their daydream, and he sighed, knowing this meant the end of their time together for now.
He looked at Minho, their eyes staring at each other, glancing here and there at his lips, tempting to lay another tender kiss on the older.
I love you.
Words he thought but never said, hesitating until the last moment, for some unknown reasons.
“We should prepare,” Minho was the first to speak, smiling fondly at Jisung, gently brushing the younger’s hair.
So, Jisung nodded and reluctantly left Minho’s warmth to turn the alarm off. And staying on the bed, Minho kept looking at him, adoringly. Why did they have to act tonight? Now that they were finally happy, this whole plan seemed like a huge mistake. But the happiness and freedom they would finally get tomorrow, nothing could top that.
Jisung chuckled at Minho’s eyes lost on his face, shyly asking him to stop, blushing and yet not staring away from the older. But Minho just smiled back, not even willing to blink and lose precious milliseconds he could spend watching Jisung.
But eventually, the younger got up and left to prepare his mission bag. He packed his weapons, his balaclava, the suit he hoped wouldn’t get too crumpled in the tightness of his bag. He sharpened his knives before meeting Minho in the hallway, the older bringing his own bag as well. Jisung could never get used to the sight, his blonde hair really suited him perfectly.
And soon enough, they were sitting on Jisung’s motorcycle, Minho surprised that the younger had secretly bought a new helmet for him. But their mission was a matter of life and death, Jisung couldn’t leave anything to chance. After all, their helmets hid their faces as much as they protected them.
They parked a street away from the guest’s apartment building, making sure his lights were still on, proof that he still roamed around inside. H-20 minutes before he would leave to arrive on time at the party. They put their balaclavas on and waited until someone entered the building, benefiting from the open door to reach his apartment, climbing the stairs swiftly and yet silently. Minho was a bit slower than Jisung, but his foot didn’t hurt much, a relief for their mission.
Finally at the right floor, Jisung checked the hallway, making sure they were alone before reaching the guest’s door, followed by Minho. Time stopped when their eyes met, an instant before they set in motion a plan that would change their lives, in one way or another. Jisung’s hand froze on the handle, hesitating until Minho’s hand joined his, reassuring the younger as his thumb gently rubbed his skin. Jisung stared at him, gaining the last bit of strength he needed. Those soft sparkling eyes, his weakness.
Ever so silently, Jisung picked the lock, the door giving in way too easily to calm his nerves. But Minho entered when Jisung didn’t move, eventually forcing the younger to follow him into the bright and spacious apartment. Like every two-hundred square meter apartment owned by someone too rich to actually enjoy just how much money they had, the place was empty, filled with nothing but square sculptures and fashionable items, not an ounce of taste or personality in the decoration. The guest probably had hired someone to design the interior for him, Jisung was sure he probably couldn’t care less about the three green dots painting in front of his door.
But well, his blood would look pretty on the white tiles and white sofa where he was currently resting, watching a heated debate over profitable stocks on a finance TV show. And after making sure no one else wandered around the apartment, they slowly walked towards the guest, approaching him from behind as discreetly as possible. Jisung could already picture the blade lodging itself deep in his jugular, and the guest’s confused eyes when two masked men stared at him agonizing on the floor. Better think first before using the people’s money for your own good.
Despite their prudence, the guest noticed the shining reflection of the blade on his television, and looked behind before they could reach him. He jumped away, shouting in fear as he looked for a way to escape. But Jisung and Minho were standing between him and his way-out, cornering him in the living room. And he was too high up to even consider jumping out the window.
They rushed to him, and it didn’t matter how much he fought back, screamed, punched, kicked and even bit. In a few seconds, Minho had locked his arms behind his back, offering him to Jisung who brought the blade against his neck, the man trembling in fear.
His eyes stared down the blade, a pearl of sweat appearing on his face. “What do you want?” he asked in vain, none of them answering back.
“I have a lot of money, just tell me how much you want. I’ll give it to you! Please, please! I-I can give you even more than you want, just let me go, please! I won’t tell anything!”
Jisung had seen this scene unfolding in the exact same way so many times. The worst people on the planet, almost all of them begged for their lives once they faced the grim reaper. And never once did Jisung feel empathy. But he struggled to cut the guest’s throat this time. His eyes… They looked so much like Minho’s.
He glanced at the older, holding the guest in place, struggling a bit doing so as the man was fighting back. And when they met eyes, it reassured him.
“There’s nothing your death couldn’t give us,” Jisung simply answered, ending the guest’s life at the corner of his apartment, the debate still raging on the television.
Minho dropped him as he helplessly put a hand on his throat, losing consciousness as his blood stained the carpet and every piece of furniture nearby. Desperate handprints everywhere, trying to grasp for life. In vain.
Minho gently rubbed Jisung’s back, still panting at the effort of keeping the guest trapped. Was it bad that all Jisung could think about was pinning Minho against a wall and taking off that stupid balaclava to kiss his lips?
They let the corpse in the apartment, looking for the invitation card and finding it in the kitchen less than a minute later alongside car keys. They stole them and left the apartment, taking the elevator straight to the underground parking.
Beeping the keys to find the corresponding car, they smiled when a Mercedes lit up next to them, almost inviting them to go to the counsellor’s party. The calm before the storm.
Making sure no one roamed around the parking lot deprived of cameras, they still hid in the car to change. Luckily, their clothes weren’t too crumpled this time, and soon they looked like they belonged to the upper elite class.
“We don’t have time. I’ll put makeup on while you’re driving,” Minho suggested, and Jisung didn’t argue much, he unfortunately saw time passing by faster than he would’ve liked.
The drive there took almost an hour, and Minho had enough time to create a masterpiece on his face. Eyeliner to emphasize his big eyes, blush on his nose and under his eyes to soften his features, a slight pink tint on his lips, giving him a soft and rather cute appearance, complementing his blonde hair. And was that silver glitter at the inner corner of his eyes?
No, he looked too good to be true, so good Jisung frequently looked away from the road for a few seconds, losing himself on the brush gently tinting Minho’s lips, licking his own lips to telepathically taste it. Ultimately looking away for so many seconds that he didn’t feel the car drifting away from its line, and brought it back a bit violently when another car flashed its two headlights repeatedly to not collide.
“Fuck…” he heard Minho mumble, glancing at the rear-view mirror to see the older take a makeup wipe to clean the lipstick that had spilled over his left cheek. If only Jisung could, he would kiss him right now, not caring about spreading lipstick everywhere over Minho’s mouth, tainting his own in the process. Too bad he was driving the car, and Minho was sitting in the backseat.
He stopped glancing at Minho when he recognized the road leading to the mansion, entering the nearby forest. They would be here in a few minutes now, and both of them tensed up synchronously. Minho handed Jisung the guest’s ID and the invitation card, in case anyone asked for them.
And of course, they soon found themselves in a small queue of a few cars on the road, waiting to enter the domain by the main gate, three guards monitoring whoever entered the mansion. Jisung gulped down, his sweaty palms struggling to properly hold onto the wheel. They had to enter, they couldn’t fail now.
He glanced at Minho, the older’s eyes focused on the cars ahead, analysing the guards’ verification process. The resemblance with the guest was uncanny, and Jisung could only think of his eyes begging him to spare his life in the corner of the living room. The two of them looked so much alike, he just hoped it would be enough to enter the house.
Soon, Jisung stopped the car in front of the gate, the guards walking over to his window, a casual routine for them. They didn’t hold any guns, but Jisung knew they were wearing them somewhere. Probably in their belts, and it stressed him immensely to not have a quick access to his own gun in the console storage.
The guards frowned upon seeing Jisung’s face, not recognizing him. Every guest had their routines, and they always brought the same people to the parties. A new face alarmed them, Jisung should’ve known. He rolled down the window at their demand.
“Invitation card, please,” the man peeked inside the car, his eyes forgetting Jisung to lay on Minho behind. “Oh, good evening Mr. Choi,” he recognized the guest and confirmed the invitation belonged to him.
Minho greeted him back, swiftly, not revealing too much of his voice as his smile was enough to convince the other guards around the car, done with their inspection.
Jisung still held his breath, even if that was already a small victory in itself. But why was the guard looking at the invitation card for so long? Why didn’t he let them go?
“He’s a new one?” he asked, gaze now fixed on Jisung as he handed him back the ID card, tearing the invitation card in two. “I’ve never seen him before?”
Jisung tried to not show the fear in his eyes, and Minho surprised him with his sudden improvisation skills. “The other one’s sick. Now can we enter or do you want me to spend the entire evening in the middle of this fucking forest?”
His words were blunt, sharp, haughty. Jisung recognized the guest in him, and the guard too because he bowed slightly in apology and gestured the other guards to let them pass. Jisung drove again, slowly going up the hill towards the party and the counsellor, their plan now in motion, unable to be stopped.
He glanced back at Minho, and if they were both stressed, Minho still couldn’t stop chuckling at his act. He had fooled that dumb guard so easily. It felt soothing to see Minho smiling, it calmed Jisung, made him believe in their plan.
“Are you ready?” he asked when they parked, Minho taking a few deep breaths as he observed all the guests entering the house, feeling so out of place.
But he eventually nodded, checking himself one last time in the mirror. “How do I look?” he asked as he quickly brushed his blonde hair, pressing his lips together to even the lipstick one last time.
And Jisung’s fond gaze fell on him, stopping the world around them, drowning in Minho one more time that night. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
Jisung noticed Minho’s ears reddening, the older too shy to reply back, unable to stop a sweet smile from showing on his face. But it faded when he put on the guest’s persona, suddenly looking arrogant and full of himself. He winked at Jisung as he opened the door, stepping onto the gravel and heading towards the front door of the mansion.
Following him close by, Jisung hid his eyes behind sunglasses, hoping it would be enough to keep his identity a secret and not be recognized by the guards or the counsellor inside. Difficult as Minho made many heads turn towards him, a few guests waving at him and pointing at his new hair colour, liking it.
Minho waved back and smiled, and somehow it felt as if he really belonged there. Jisung avoided the guards observing everyone, entering the main hall as Minho instantly headed for the buffet to grab some champagne and blend into the crowd. Might as well enjoy while he was there, practice some method acting, you know.
But no one recognized them, and Jisung breathed again, relaxing his muscles and brain to focus on the mission again. It was barely 10 PM, they had to wait until the counsellor would end the party, probably after four in the morning. And honestly, Jisung hated the idea of staying here, nervously waiting to act. But he reminded himself of the money they would earn, of the good they would do revealing every one of his evil deeds to the world, of the freedom they would get and the new life they would start together. Patience, Jisung, it will all be worth it.
Surprisingly, Minho managed to have a conversation with everyone talking with him, after studying every piece of information Jisung had brought from his spying sessions on the guest. Minho had looked up things on his own, so much that he could hold full conversations on the stock markets and corporate laws for almost an hour, Jisung staying a few steps behind as the older talked to the guest’s business partners.
The party kept going for long hours. It annoyed Jisung that so many people came to Minho, how much they complimented him and touched his hair, how he accepted their touches. His smile at their compliments, the looks girls and boys had on their faces, with desire in their eyes. He hated when Minho accepted to dance with some of them, jumping in the middle of the crowd, laughing. Cruel that he could only watch and not enjoy with him, not share this moment with Minho, and only him.
When the older came back, a bit red from dancing and finishing his now third champagne glass of the night, Jisung figured he should stop drinking and grabbed the glass from his hand.
“Stop now, you shouldn’t get drunk,” he put the glass down on the table, finding Minho’s smug face staring back at him.
“I have a pretty high alcohol tolerance you know,” he defended himself, but it didn’t convince Jisung.
However, he couldn’t reply back that another guest greeted Minho. Jisung was glad the older looked perfectly like one of the guests, but he wished that man wasn’t so popular. His blond hair shocked everyone, and they all wanted to speak with him about it. The night wasn’t peaceful at all. And Minho’s sweet smiles any time they were alone for a few seconds weren’t enough to appease Jisung’s possessive and nervous heart.
He focused on the mission to calm his jealousy, looking for the counsellor, in vain. He only appeared around three in the morning, a bit irritated as he left his private wing, the guard closing and protecting the door again as soon as he stepped into the hall. The counsellor greeted many guests, smiling again, shaking hands fiercely.
His behaviour irritated Jisung more and more the longer he stared at him, his fake smile hiding predator’s teeth, ready to tear apart anyone not serving his interests. He only wanted to enter his private office again, release everything to the world, prove how corrupted and disgusted all those politicians were. He hated how the counsellor intimated him, how he was scared he could destroy his life in less than a few seconds. He shouldn’t have so much power. No one should.
Jisung turned his head around to hide a bit, only wishing to drag Minho away from the approaching counsellor, but he couldn’t forget his bodyguard act. Minho was talking with another guest about their company, he couldn’t just interact now.
Fortunately, the music stopped as the counsellor asked everyone to go outside to finish the night. Good news, the party was coming to an end. But Jisung didn’t know what they would do outside, and when Minho followed the other guests a bit too unquestioningly, he gently grabbed his arm.
“Stay alert, please,” he asked of him, Minho nodded back.
The crowd gathered on the large terrace, not sure of what to expect. Until the first explosion was heard, illuminating the sky. Fireworks, red and yellow, shining light upon the guests’ amazed faces.
They clapped, shouting in amazement as the counsellor kept smiling, satisfied of the show, satisfied of his demonstration of power and status. Minho was immersed as well, observing the sky filled with colours, his mouth slightly agape. And Jisung observed him, losing himself in the older once again. The lights reflected in his eyes, in the glitter next to them, and it felt like he held the galaxy in his eyes. Too beautiful for this world.
And he noticed how everyone focused on the fireworks, no guest inside anymore as the guards had stepped outside as well to keep an eye on the crowd. Pulling slightly on Minho’s arm until the older leaned back, Jisung whispered in his ear.
“Time to hide.”
Minho nodded and lost his smile, entering back inside as Jisung followed him, the guards observing them but losing their suspicions when they saw them entering the toilets.
They locked themselves in the stall the furthest away from the door, waiting for the fireworks to stop, waiting to hear silence in the hall again. And Jisung fought hard to not kiss Minho less than a meter in front of him, because he looked too lovable, his plump pink lips too inviting, his cute blinks too endearing.
But he couldn’t mess his makeup, so he abstained. And Minho smirked a bit to himself, figuring out the effect he had on Jisung. Taking the younger’s hands in his, he gently swayed them left and right, distracting himself from the waiting, silently keeping connected to Jisung. And the younger rubbed his thumbs on Minho’s hands, soothing the both of them with the contact.
The fireworks had already stopped some time ago when the hall finally turned silent a few minutes later. They both locked eyes, Minho’s wide eyes staring at Jisung’s reassuring gaze.
“Are your ready?” he intertwined their fingers, Minho nodding in approval, preparing to enter the private wing.
“Let’s go,” Jisung kissed his forehead gently before leaving the stall, followed by Minho and his flustered face, brain locked onto the memory of Jisung’s lips on his skin.
When Jisung entered back in the hall, only a few guests remained, some respectfully escorted out by guards. The counsellor had also left, greeting some guests in front of the house. Jisung soon noticed one guard stayed by the private wing and didn’t escort any people out. If he dragged him away, then Minho could rush to the door and enter without being seen.
“When the way is clear, run for it. Ok?” he spoke discreetly to Minho, the older nodding as he stayed hidden from the few other guards’ sights.
Jisung headed quickly towards the door, the guard noticing him instantly. “The party’s over, you have to leave,” he warned coldly, not welcoming in any way.
“A guest needs your help there,” he explained to the unreceptive guard, faking some urgency in his panting voice. “I think someone stabbed them.”
Of course, it alarmed the guard, instantly worried that some spy or assassin had entered the house. But his sole mission was to guard the door, not save anyone. Jisung spoke again when he noticed his hand threatening to grab the walkie-talkie.
“I don’t know who to ask, you’re the only security I could find,” he added quickly, and when the guard looked around, he noticed they were alone in the hall, the last guests being escorted out. He could leave the door for a minute, just to assess the situation. After all, if Jisung was the last guest in the hall and came with him, then he would have an eye on him and still protect the wing indirectly.
“But you’re coming with me,” the guard agreed as Jisung nodded, walking quickly towards the hallway he and Minho came from.
The older hid behind a table as they passed near him, and made a rush to the door when they disappeared from his sight. He didn’t see anyone in his run, and nobody saw him. For some unknown suspicious reason, Minho expected the door to be locked. But after all, if the wing was guarded, why would they keep it locked?
And so, Minho quickly made his way in the private wing, carefully making sure he was alone and didn’t cross paths with any security guards. But the wing was desert, and he quickly found the counsellor’s office again, searching through his files and computer for every proof of his corruption and crimes. For the first time on a mission, Minho felt tense, his fingers sometimes failed to grasp paper files, he made a vase fall as he searched the desk for proofs. His and Jisung’s promised freedom on his shoulders, he couldn’t fail the younger. He couldn’t fail himself.
Jisung led the guard towards the toilets out of a better idea. Maybe because it was the last room in the hallway and Jisung ultimately didn’t have anywhere else to go. They entered and the guard was confused when he realized they were alone. No guest, no stabbing, no supposed intrusion. But Jisung didn’t have time to pull the knife from his pocket to kill him that the guard turned around.
“What’s this?” he was irritated, confused. “Where’s the guest?”
His hand was already on his gun, threatening to use it, and Jisung knew he would lose the fight if he pulled out his knife now. Second plan, he guessed.
“I am the guest,” he improvised, confusing the guard even more as he looked him up and down, irritated.
“You’ve been stabbed?”
He doubted his story of course and he was ready to pull out the gun, to kill him on the spot. Jisung had to distract him, and quick.
“Yeah… You stabbed my heart,” he cringed internally, but stared boldly at the guard who froze, dropping all suspicions.
“I-I did what?”
“I looked at you all night long,” Jisung stepped towards him, the guard taking a step back. “You’re exactly my type.”
The wall blocked the guard, now stuck facing Jisung, not knowing what to do. Still, he blushed a bit at his flustering words, his heart not used to flirt.
“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Jisung stopped in front of him, observing his features. Of course, it was a lie. That man was nothing out of the ordinary, and he hated speaking those words about him when a man as beautiful as Minho existed in his life. But he had to buy the older as much time as possible, he had to save their lives.
Seducing him seemed like a stupid idea, but it worked. The guard probably didn’t hear such compliments every day, and he melted too quickly, too easily at Jisung’s words, no will to shoot him anymore. He breathed in his words, plunging in his eyes as the younger observed his face slowly. The guard stared at his lips when he smiled, cheeks bright red as Jisung passed a hand through his own hair, his effect on the guard impossible to ignore.
He had to buy time. As much as possible…
The counsellor waved bye to the last guests leaving, a smile appearing on his face as soon as his head of security came to him.
“So, what do we do about them?” he looked at the Mercedes car remaining. “One of my officers is taking care of the first one, and the other one is in your office.”
“Which one?” the counsellor asked, eager. Too eager.
“Your favourite.”
The counsellor smiled, congratulating himself for letting the two spies go on with their plan because now he had the opportunity to meet Minho, alone, in his own house. Was this a gift from heaven? Honestly… Did they really think he was that stupid?
Of course, the counsellor had recognized them on his CCTV footage last week, and had ordered his guards to let them in if they ever came back. Great idea, because now they had no way to escape. They were two against thirty guards.
“Just do what you usually do. Take care of the twink, I’ll go back to my office and deal with the other one. Alone…” he added before his head of security argued, the counsellor leaving hands in pocket towards his private wing.
“Just prepare the footage we talked about.”
“And what do we do with the car?” he heard him ask, but the counsellor just chuckled.
“They won’t even get back here.”
Minho had already found new proofs of illegal activities the counsellor had done from 2002 up until two days ago. He had made a stack of all the files he had to grab with him, and was copying all the files on the computer onto an USB key. Minho’s leg kept bouncing on the floor, biting his nails as he stared at the progress bar. Still five minutes to wait, he hoped Jisung was fine. He hoped he could buy him enough time.
He finally grabbed the stack when he noticed the copy would be done less than a minute later. Eyes locked onto the computer, ready to pull the key out as soon as possible, he didn’t even hear the footsteps coming towards him.
A silhouette appeared in his peripheral vision and when he looked up, the counsellor was entering the office, a huge smile on his face.
Minho dropped everything to the ground, quickly reaching for the knife in his pocket. He was supposed to get the files before killing him, but well, if fate had decided to go another way, he would gladly follow. As long as it killed that man.
“What are you doing in here?” the counsellor asked, joyful, not threatened in the slightest by the knife in his hand.
But Minho didn’t answer. Relying on instincts, he rushed to the man, knife pointing and ready to slice up his jugular. But to his surprise, the counsellor moved away quickly, stunning Minho with his reflexes and agility. His age definitely didn’t equate his physical abilities.
Minho tried to punch him repeatedly but the counsellor soon blocked his hand, pushing him away at the same time. But Minho was filled with so much adrenaline he managed to run back into the man and slice his arm a bit. And by reversing his own arm, Minho thought he would hit his throat and win the fight. But the counsellor blocked his arm before he could move and twisted his wrist, so much Minho yelped in pain and had to drop the knife to the ground, gritting his teeth to handle the ache.
“Ok, I think I understand now,” the counsellor figured Minho’s plan when he saw the files on the floor, his illegal records sprayed out before him.
The counsellor pushed him away and Minho held his wrist in pain, moving it slowly to check it was not broken. Good news, his wrist moved just fine. He quickly tried to reach for the knife on the ground but the counsellor kicked his ankle to stop him.
Lucky day for the counsellor, it was Minho’s left ankle.
He screamed in pain, instantly dropping to the ground and holding his ankle as the counsellor put the knife in the safety of his pocket, panting a bit. “You made a mistake coming back here.”
Grabbing the collar of Minho’s suit, he pulled on it strongly, forcing the boy back up as he struggled to breathe and limped behind the counsellor into another room, deeper into the private wing. He pushed him once more for good measure, Minho falling onto the carpet of the counsellor’s bedroom, stabbing pain in his wrists as he shielded his face from the ground.
“Who are you working for? Who paid you?”
Minho saw the counsellor’s feet in front of his head, threatening again to kick and hit, no matter if it was the boy’s stomach or face in front of him. Minho was tense, ready to shield his face again if the man were to kick him. He had never expected the counsellor to be so aggressive and violent. That was usually his guards’ job…
“You’re working for that fuckass Weng, right?”
But Minho didn’t know what he was talking about so he kept silent, kept staring at the carpet below him, managing the pain radiating in his ankle. Honestly, he just wanted to cut off his foot right now.
“I think you should tell me, because that’s your only chance of going out of here alive,” the counsellor chuckled, taking his TV remote. “Your friend will not come and save you, you know.”
Minho finally looked up at him, with so much rage and disgust he surprised himself he could hate someone as much. But it just entertained the counsellor as he switched on the TV on the wall. Gripping the boy’s hair to make him stand back up and watch, Minho gritted his teeth as he was looking at the house live CCTV cameras.
The counsellor selected the camera in the toilets, suddenly showing Jisung on the big screen, the guard still against the bathroom wall. Minho’s heart stopped instantly once he realized Jisung and the guard were kissing. Kissing… Jisung was devouring the guard; kissing him on his lips and in his neck as his hands were cupping the man’s face. It seemed so passionate, so fervent. But Minho didn’t worry about it, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he clenched his fists and bit the inside of his cheeks to not scream right now. Jisung was just buying time, it was not personal…
But the counsellor saw his mortified face, Minho unable to hide the pain ravaging his heart. “He’s having way too much fun to help you right now. Your friend…”
Minho’s eyes were locked onto Jisung, the guard roaming his hands onto the younger’s body, in his hair, in his neck, on his back. It was just to buy him as much time as possible, it was nothing more. They had agreed to do everything possible for the success of their mission.
They had agreed…
“Come on, tell me who are you working for? Who are you?” he softened his voice, closing in onto the boy, wide eyes unable to look away from the screen, unable to look away from the pain. “You have better things to do than wait for your little boyfriend. He’s clearly cheating instead of helping you.”
Honestly, it would have hurt less if Jisung hadn’t smiled when he kissed the guard again, because how could Minho be sure he still liked him? How could he be sure Jisung kissed him for love when he kissed others with even more fervour?
‘He’s not even thinking about you right now. He’s focused on those hands working up his body,” the counsellor detailed, stirring the knife in Minho’s heart. He had eyes, he could see well enough.
He didn’t care what the counsellor had to say, what his snake words were trying to do. He ignored him, but he couldn’t stop his ears from hearing his voice, couldn’t stop himself from focusing on what he said, on the hands gripping Jisung’s back.
The counsellor turned on the sound, and now Minho could also be haunted by the two men panting, the slurping and kissing sounds echoing in his brain. Jisung’s hands touching the guard’s chest, feeling him up. Minho wanted to puke.
“Tell me,” the guard panted in Jisung’s ear, too worked up to not pant as he spoke. “Tell me what you said earlier.”
Minho gulped down, disgust crawling up his body, tears welling up in his eyes as Jisung spoke. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
So, that’s what it felt like, to have a broken heart. Minho had discovered and experienced too many aspects of love in too little time. He didn’t know what to think anymore, didn’t know what to make of Jisung’s statement. But his heart crunched up on itself, and his throat blocked all the air from leaving his body.
Did Jisung really love him? Did Minho make it all up in his mind? Was he that lonely? Misreading the signs until he was presented with the facts, the counsellor’s hand still pulling his hair so he had to face the truth on the screen. Dreams, everyone had them. And for Minho, they turned into nightmares more than usual.
He couldn’t stand anymore, his legs gave up, crushed up by his sorrow. The counsellor let him drop to the ground, and Minho didn’t even feel the wave of pain shooting up his legs when his knees hit the floor.
“Why do you obey when no one cares about you afterwards?” the counsellor’s soft voice engulfed him as he sniffled, staring at the carpet. He couldn’t care less about the mission, the house, the counsellor right now. The images of Jisung’s smile looped in his mind, the sentence he had told him earlier spoken to a total stranger without any more thought.
Did he not care about the words he spoke? Did he say to Minho what he said to everyone? Did he not think he was the most beautiful man he had ever seen?
The counsellor sighed, turning the screen off. “Whoever you’re working for or working with, they don’t deserve your skills. And he certainly doesn’t deserve you. Other people would treat you better, you know that.”
Minho couldn’t get angry at Jisung, after all that was his own fault if he believed his creative mind. They had kissed once and Jisung had complimented him. Never did they agree on being officially together. Never did they confess the love they had towards each other. For all Minho knew, Jisung could’ve been emotional, and he could’ve interpreted his need for comfort as love towards him. That would be quite like him, falling for someone when they used him for their own interests. Being manipulated for love. Yet, again.
“I won’t judge if you cry,” the counsellor crouched down to his level. “Reminds me of when my wife cheated on me ten years ago… It still hurts now.”
Minho looked at his soft and saddened eyes, the counsellor finally sincere in front of him. No matter what he had done, no matter how different they were, they surprisingly had things in common. Being heartbroken by the one they loved.
“I’m Sungji, but I’m pretty sure you already know that,” he chuckled. “What’s your name?” he held his hand in front of Minho, the boy looking at it for a few seconds, hesitating before taking it.
“Minho,” he replied faintly, a tear rolling down his cheeks as he looked back down at the carpet. Hopes of being understood, of being held tightly, of not being alone anymore. Minho longed for warmth and comfort, he jumped into the first hands that could provide him what he desperately needed.
“Minho…” the counsellor smiled, his name rolling onto his tongue, full of desire and appetite. “See, we get to know each other now.”
Unaware of the counsellor’s moves and Minho being caught, Jisung was focused on buying time, as much as possible. But the more he kissed the guard, the more it worried him. He wondered if Minho had finished, if everything was going well. And the hands roaming all over his body were living their last seconds, because he would end it all now, go check on Minho and leave. It had been too long.
He discreetly reached for the knife in the pocket of his suit, still kissing the guard, breathing in with him, hand gripping his hair. Leaning on his body, back forced against the wall, the man had no escape anymore. He pulled on his hair, exposing his throat as the guard panted, gazing at Jisung who stopped kissing him, eyes going from his lips to his eyes.
“Don’t stop.”
Gripping the knife tightly, Jisung sliced the guard’s throat before he could move or realize what was happening. Hands around his neck, he couldn’t contain the blood inside and lost consciousness a few seconds later, dying a minute after falling to the ground, eyes fixed onto Jisung, onto the one who had manipulated him.
Jisung stole the guard’s gun and quickly left the toilets, hiding behind a column from the few guards roaming around the hall. He creeped up behind the one closest to him, killing him silently as well, knife stirring in his heart, hand over his mouth.
But he was eventually spotted by the other guards when he killed a second one, and they rushed towards him, taking their guns. Jisung shot in their directions, killing a few of them, hiding behind a wall to protect himself from their bullets. The door was still so far, Minho impossibly farther.
Emptying his gun, he killed a few more guards, all of them hiding in the hall as well. And now that he had no bullets left, he looked for guns from dead guards. One of them was actually close to him but he would have to rush for it, expose his body. But he didn’t have time to think, the guards would shoot again soon and progressively close up on him, it was now or never.
So, he crawled behind the wall, waiting until the guards stopped shooting to sprint towards the dead body, grabbing the gun without stopping his run. He shot again, to protect himself, and ran to another body, catching a second gun in the process.
Hidden behind a wall again, he shot down a few more guards, but they were closing in on him and he saw all the guards coming to the hall. He counted them, twenty-two guards. That was bad, really bad. But at the same time, that meant they were all present in the hall, and none of them roamed around. Which meant Minho was safe.
But not seeing the counsellor around stressed him out immensely, so he shot, again and again to kill the guards, to free himself and find Minho again. And they fell in front of him, dying one by one, Jisung too scared for Minho to care about his own life. One of the guards’ bullets managed to touch his shoulder, cutting his clothes and his skin slightly, a small stream of blood leaving the wound.
Jisung didn’t pay it no attention.
He kept shooting, running to catch another gun, avoid getting hit again. Glasses exploded around, vases fell to the ground, guards used tables to hide behind. But Jisung was too determined to be stopped so easily, too worried to be less destructive and violent.
A few minutes later, once their inside guerrilla had ended, only a few guards remained in the hall, two of them severely injured. And Jisung didn’t spare them. Shooting them down like the others, he stayed in the empty hall for a few seconds, catching back his breath, observing the corpses all around. So much blood spilled. If they had decided to work for someone better, to not defend a criminal, maybe they would still be alive. What a waste of life.
He rushed to the private wing, new loaded guns in his hands, staying alert in case a few hidden guards still remained. So, he walked slower than he wanted, but he had to keep low to not put Minho in danger. Still, when he arrived to the counsellor’s office and the door was completely open, he worried instantly.
The office was empty, files splattered all over the floor, some of them crumpled or dirty as if someone had walked over them. The transfer on the computer was finished but the USB key was still plugged in. Where was Minho? What had happened to him?
Jisung could feel his legs give up below him, did the counsellor find Minho? The older was in danger, and Jisung didn’t even know where he was. So, he ran in the private wing, opening every door, looking for Minho as quickly as possible, not caring if someone found him in the process. His own life was not the priority when the counsellor’s claws had trapped Minho.
The counsellor ignored Jisung was after him, and from the private wing, he couldn’t hear anything happening in the hall anyways. Too far away, too soundproof, he didn’t know Jisung had decimated his army. He was too focused on the boy sitting in front of him, destroyed, his heart broken, his mind lost.
He gently brushed Minho’s hair, his hand caressing his cheek slowly until it reached his chin, tilting the boy’s head up. Minho’s tears glistened on his skin, and the counsellor wiped them away with his thumb, smiling at him.
“You’re really beautiful Minho,” he spoke softly as he observed him, the boy gulping down his words, feeling treasured and loved. “Blonde suits you well, you know.”
He brushed his hair again, curling some strands in his fingers, before whispering in Minho’s ear. “Brings out the slut in your eyes.”
But he was interrupted by the door of his bedroom opening violently, Jisung stepping in and stopping instantly upon seeing Minho again. Kneeling on the floor, in tears, the counsellor close in front of him. Too close. A wave of rage overtook him, because if he had hurt Minho, then he would suffer a death worse than anything he could think of.
But the counsellor just smirked upon his arrival, pressing an emergency button on his desk to call his security. Jisung would be dealt with rather quickly.
“Get the fuck away from him,” Jisung pointed his gun straight to the counsellor’s head, warning him as the man smiled, raising his hands in the air in defense.
He slowly stepped away from Minho, chuckling to himself. “You’re a bit late, my boy. How hypocritical of you to come and save him now. You didn’t care too much a few minutes ago.”
He turned on the tv, the CCTV footage lighting up the screen again, paused on Jisung kissing the guard. And if his heart sank low, it shrunk entirely when he saw Minho staring at the screen, pain in his red and swollen eyes, new tears threatening to fall.
“We saw everything,” the counsellor spoke again, his snake voice reaching Minho way easier than he would have thought. “Don’t you feel any shame?”
Eyes stuck on Minho, Jisung could feel his tears building up as well. The grip on his guns loosened, too shocked of what he caused to Minho to care about anything else right now.
The words stayed stuck in his throat, he didn’t know what to do now. Apologize, reassure, explain himself. He had just wanted to buy time, he had improvised. He never thought Minho would see it, he never thought he would care so much. He never thought it would make him cry.
The counsellor was back next to Minho, hand gently resting on his head, patting his hair. “My poor Minho…”
Wait.
Wait a fucking minute.
“How do you even know his name?” Jisung pointed his gun at him again, rage coming back to overtake his heart. He observed Minho again, his tears sure, but also his stained suit, his knees bleeding on the fabric. He noticed his ankle had turned red again, swollen like a week ago. And now, he didn’t want to have anything to do with the counsellor anymore.
“I told you to get the fuck away from him,” he raised his voice as he walked towards Minho, the counsellor stepping away and losing his smile. He could feel Jisung getting angry, soon uncontrollable. His guards still hadn’t come, and he recognized the gun Jisung was holding belonged to his own guards. Only now he realized he had probably killed them all and they wouldn’t come and save him any time soon.
But the counsellor just had to reach his desk and get the gun in the drawer to save himself. He would kill Jisung and then keep having fun with Minho, as if nothing ever happened.
And when Jisung crouched down to pull Minho away, he took the opportunity. He rushed to the desk, opening the drawer, but he didn’t have time to turn around that Jisung had already shot.
His right hand dropped the gun, bleeding and broken by Jisung’s bullet. Minho jolted when Jisung shot again, in the counsellor’s knees this time, forcing him to the ground. He whimpered in pain, hands in the air to try and stop Jisung but the younger stepped towards him, his body a protection between Minho and the counsellor.
Barrel of the gun pressing onto the counsellor’s forehead, his eyes were red and full of rage. And yet, the counsellor didn’t show any hint of fear in his eyes. He just looked at Jisung, daring him to shoot. He had already guessed his time had come. And it made him smile, because no matter if he died now, at least he had destroyed their relationship. Maybe they weren’t dead, but he had scarred them, and that was enough for what they did to him. He spoke his last words, but Jisung didn’t give him the pleasure to finish his sentence.
“I hope you enjo-”
A bullet through his head, painting the desk behind him with his manipulative brain.
Jisung rushed back to Minho, crouching down to the older who cried again when he took him into his arms, not having the strength to hug him back. Not even having the courage to look at Jisung ever since he entered that room.
“I’m sorry Minho, I’m so sorry…” his voice cracked and he buried his head in the older’s shoulder, sobbing into his arms.
“I don’t know what he told you, but it’s not true, ok? It’s not true. I panicked and I had to buy you some time, I didn’t find any better way to do it.”
Minho stayed silent, still sobbing in Jisung’s arms. The adrenaline in his body was decreasing at a rapid pace and the pain was crawling back into his bones. His ankle, his knees, his head. Everything hurt. And finally, his hands grabbed Jisung’s clothes, pulling on the fabric as he grasped onto him, holding onto whatever would help him, whatever would build him back up.
“Please, talk to me,” Jisung sobbed again, pulling Minho tighter when he felt his hands hugging him back. “What did he tell you? What did he do to you?”
Jisung didn’t want to think about, didn’t want to believe the lies his brain came up with. But Minho’s silence hurt, deeper than any blade, worsening his fears with each second passing. He gently massaged Minho’s head, soothing the older as much as he could, hoping he would open up. But time was passing, and soon the sun would rise and they would have to get away from the mansion. And well, Jisung didn’t want to stay here for one more second. Minho felt horrible, visibly hurting. He just wanted to get him somewhere safe, to heal and take care of him.
“Did you mean it?” Minho’s broken voice reached Jisung who stopped moving, listening carefully. “When you told me I was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen…”
And Jisung leaned away from Minho, cupping his head so he would look straight in his eyes, not leaving place for any doubt. “Of course. Of course, I meant it.”
“Did you mean it when you told him?”
And then Jisung understood. And then he had to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart on the floor. The fatal consequences of his careless actions.
“Minho. You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Only you,” he reassured Minho as the older listened to him, still hurting.
“I love you.”
Jisung’s confession froze Minho who cried again, and the younger didn’t know what he did wrong. So, he hugged him again, apologizing endlessly, and Minho hugged him back, tugging onto his clothes again.
“I love you too…” Minho’s voice broke down.
And Jisung held him tighter, in hopes of comforting him, in hopes of sticking him back up. He could only hope Minho believed his words, and that whatever lies the counsellor had told him had already left his mind.
“Come on, let’s leave this place…” he pulled the older back up on his feet, Minho holding onto his arm for support, wincing every time he walked on his left foot.
“Wait. You didn’t take the files,” Minho spoke faintly, looking around and noticing Jisung’s empty hands.
“I don’t really care about that anymore,” he kept on walking, supporting Minho’s weight, guiding him through the house. His whole vigilante plan seemed stupid now. Minho was hurting, he didn’t want to reveal the counsellor’s deeds anymore, he didn’t want to get in trouble again. Killing him was enough, Jisung just wanted to get the money, to finally be free and live his life with Minho. They dreamed about it, it was finally with reach if they left the mansion.
One hand on his gun, Jisung scrutinized the hallways, attentively listening if any guard still roamed around to attack them. But only corpses filled the empty house.
And when they reached the cold night outside, Jisung left Minho to unwind in the fresh air, the older sitting in the gravel as he waited for him, biting his lip to swallow the pain. Futile hopes and wishes of making it disappear completely.
Jisung rushed to the caves, looking for whatever flammable liquid he could find there. He had to destroy whatever evidence police could find about them. So, he poured oil everywhere in the house, on the curtains, on the carpets, on the remaining shrimp toasts and the bodies.
He lit up the matchstick when he stepped foot outside of the mansion and sat next to Minho to watch the house burn down. Their bodies stuck against each other, Jisung’s hand found the way around Minho's shoulder to comfort the older. And Minho laid his head against Jisung’s shoulder as they watched the brazier lighting up the black sky, their past lives burned to the ground.
And soon, the sky turned blue, dawn slowly rising up over them. So, they walked back to their Mercedes, leaving the domain forever, the flames reflecting in the car’s mirrors for long minutes despite the growing distance with the mansion.
Jisung hated doing it, but they had to protect themselves. Abandoning the car when they approached the suburbs of Seoul, Jisung burned it down as well for good measure. And they walked alongside the road for a while, no one driving this early or willing to take them back to the city and the guest’s house to get Jisung's motorcycle back.
Minho struggled and winced with every step but to his relief, a car eventually stopped after a 45 minute walk, and the man was kind enough to not ask too many questions. Still he was a bit worried about their states, and Jisung agreed to be dropped off at a hospital to calm his questions and potential suspicions down.
So, they walked again as soon as they left the car, Minho refusing Jisung's guilty help, holding on by himself for some time until they found Jisung’s motorbike again. Half an hour later and they were finally back to the apartment, and Minho sat at the kitchen table, cursing at all the pain he felt in his body.
Jisung brought him some painkillers and took off his shoes to look at the older's ankle. Despite the walk, it didn’t look so bad, just red and swollen like the first day. He stayed there in silence, Minho’s foot in his hands, unsure whether he should look up at the older or not. Jisung could feel his body trembling slightly, how he muffled the sobs in his throat, how he tried to take deep breaths to calm his emotions.
He hurt from walking so long in the night, he hurt from being kicked and punched, he hurt from the words of the counsellor, playing with his despair and candid heart. He hurt from seeing Jisung kissing that guy, and even if he believed the younger, that he was just buying some time, that the counsellor had lied to him, that didn’t mean Minho’s heart was immune to the pain. After finally finding love, he had thought he lost it all in the same night, that he had hallucinated Jisung’s feelings, that he was alone again. He wasn’t.
Jisung dared to look up at him, gathering his courage to take in the sight of Minho’s dropped shoulders and bangs hiding his red eyes staring at the ground. But Jisung could see his erratic chest’s movements, the tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and dropping onto his shirt.
Jisung didn’t know what to do, he wanted to cry at the sight, to alleviate Minho’s pain by any means, to light himself on fire if that meant Minho forgave him. But ultimately, Jisung ignored if Minho was hurting terriblly or crying because of the emotional manipulation the counsellor had forced upon him. But his tears didn’t stop, and his sobs made Jisung want to cry as well, for what he did to him. His entire body was red, trembling. He hadn’t spoken a word since he’d left the mansion, Jisung couldn’t bear the silence anymore.
“Minho?”
He spoke but was only met with silence, the older slowly breaking down in front of him, now in the safety and comfort of their apartment. Fuck the counsellor, why did he care so much about his words, about the lies he had implied? He had manipulated him after all, torn his heart to shreds so easily. But he couldn't trust someone he despised, that would be stupid, right? Fucking lame, right? Jisung loved him, he had told him himself. He stopped muffling the sobs in his throat, fully crying in front of the younger, fully opening his wounded heart to him.
“C-can you take me to the competition?” his voice cracked, and Jisung broke down at his tear-stained face. He recalled the archery poster on his wall, the date. After everything he had put Minho through, the older still had energy and hope for his dream to come true, for his life to finally start. Jisung admired his strength and resilience, even if it was nearing recklessness right now.
It was already eight in the morning and the competition started at nine. Technically, they could still make it. If only the problem was the lack of time.
“I’m not sure you should go," Jisung stared at Minho's swollen foot, he could imagine the throbbing below the older's skin. "Your ankle...”
“My ankle is fine,” Minho got back up to prove a point, wincing again.
But he had taken too much risks, received too much blows, by the counsellor, by his family, by life itself. So, if he wanted to go to the competition, no matter how insignificant it was in the grand scheme of things and the world of professional archery, no one would take away that possibility from him. And Jisung didn’t feel legitimate to stop him, so he just followed the older as he limped to his room.
He had already prepared his archery bag last night, had already planned this competition for too long. And Jisung helped him change clothes, because It hurt Minho too much to move by himself. He took off that suit Jisung would burn as soon as possible to destroy the evidence of their night spent there. He had burned the counsellor’s mansion to the ground, might as well burn everything else.
Jisung tried to stop his eyes from staring at Minho’s back, but he couldn’t resist when the older’s upper body was bare before him. He had turned around to modestly put on a t-shirt, but Jisung was solely focused on his back muscles contracting, how smooth his skin looked, how he wanted to hug him tightly, to feel his warm skin against him.
But he kept his hands to himself and helped the older take off his trousers, Minho sitting on his bed, unable to stay up as Jisung pulled on the fabric, taking extra care to not hurt his ankle. He winced, and he stared at Jisung who stayed silent at his feet, gently passing his ankle through his jeans.
Dependant on the younger to move out of the apartment, he was grateful that Jisung was helping and not prohibiting him from attending the competition. But he didn’t have the words to tell him how much he appreciated and loved him right now, so he just rubbed his hair, as gently as could, and the younger froze under his touch.
He looked up at Minho, his eyes diving into the older’s bleary stare, shining softly anytime he gazed upon the younger. And so, Jisung laid his head on the older’s thigh, breathing in for a few seconds, relaxing in his touch. A comforting contact, an exchange of love gestures. Finally, silence and peace. Too bad, they didn’t have more time.
So, Jisung left Minho to dress himself completely and changed as well, as quickly as possible to not arrive too late to the competition. He found Minho in the kitchen two minutes later, gulping down a few painkillers, too much for a normal human being, not enough for him to hold on through the day. He didn’t say anything.
Carrying his archery bag, he helped him walk down the stairs to the parking, and if Minho refused his hand at first, he eventually accepted it. Jisung drove Minho there, speeding whenever he could, arriving barely two minutes before the start of the competition.
There were a lot of archers present in the buzzing sports hall, all registered, all warming up. And Jisung had never seen Minho so nervous. He quickly scanned the hall to find the registration board, almost running there despite his aching ankle.
He registered just before the bell rang and ran back to Jisung, the younger waiting near the stands, worried whether he could still participate or not. And Minho gestured a thumbs up, so it reassured Jisung who went to the stands to let the older concentrate.
Despite a lot of archers in the room, there weren’t many spectators. Jisung preferred it that way, he couldn’t bear the noise or movements of a crowd right now, he was too tired, too on edge, too focused on Minho only, scrutinizing his every move, anticipating his needs and aches. Jisung observed Minho, wincing with him every time he limped. He hated seeing him in pain, and his body screamed to stop Minho from hurting himself even more. If he ever collapsed, he would run to catch him. If his eyes ever pleaded him for help, he would come by his side instantly. But otherwise, he wouldn’t interfere with his dream. It wasn't his decision to make.
Minho panted as he warmed up by himself around the other archers, and Jisung hoped the painkillers would be effective enough. The contestants all looked rather professional, all had good equipments, similar to Minho’s. They sometimes sent curious glares towards him, noticing the cut on his cheek visible now that his makeup had faded, the bruises on his arms, the strange way he limped around. They judged his damaged and scratched bow, the way his forehead pearled with nervous sweat, how he kept blinking and rubbing his swollen eyes, exhausted. None of them ever asked if he needed help though. He was just one more archer to beat easily.
And if Jisung had been scared about Minho’s condition, now he was also nervous to see him succeed. To prove wrong everyone who forbade him from living the life he wanted, who said he wasn’t good enough or wouldn’t be able to live off it. Freeing himself from the prison he’d been put into, now was the time his life started, the time he would finally be himself. Winning, he deserved it more than anything.
He followed the other archers to discover his lane number and waited behind another archer by lane 4, everything under Jisung’s focused stare. Minho eventually turned back to look at him, and when their eyes met, Jisung gulped down his nerves and cheered him up, smiling brightly at the older to encourage him. Thumbs up directed at Minho, a silent support.
It warmed up Minho’s heart. Completely.
Archery didn’t require movements when shooting, fortunately. And as his muscle memory kicked in, Minho gulped down the pain and cleared his mind, because when he was shooting, he became one with the bow. An extension of his fingers, of his heart, of his soul.
Despite the pain, the fatigue, and the emotional turmoil brewing his heart, Minho managed to shoot as well as usual. Arrows only met the yellow part of the target, and if the other archers mocked or looked down on him before, now they could only pray to gods or holy spirits to defeat him. Stunned, and then impressed, most of them looked at his results before their own, and his neighbours on lanes 3 and 5 missed some of their shots when they looked at him, mesmerized by his precision and speed.
Two hours quickly passed and soon enough he was in the finale, taking a little break before the final round. He sat on a chair and looked at his phone, ignoring the archers’ stares upon him, all joining Jisung in the stands to look at the last shooting.
Jisung stressed in his seat, hoping Minho would win. His victory only meant too much. It could be the start of their new life, the start of their freedom. The proof that dreams could come true, that this cycle of pain and despair would end today.
But his attention drifted away when his phone buzzed, a money transfer reaching his bank account.
50k, officially his…
He didn’t even have time to put his phone back in his pocket that he instantly received another transfer, more than 27k as well, signed by Minho, with an apology note because it wasn’t as much as what he had stolen from him, but he promised he would make it up to him later on now that he had completely paid off the debt he owed his father.
And Jisung wanted to curse, Minho didn’t understand he couldn’t care less about the money. But Minho hated debts, and if that meant his mind would be free from the guilt, then Jisung would let him be. He would transfer him everything back the next day anyways.
A bell rang in the sports hall, and Minho got up, slowly limping to his lane, face to face with his adversaries. Two men in their forties, with equipment even better than his and scores almost as perfect. Three arrows to determine the podium. Three arrows to determine his life. This competition a metaphor for his dreams.
So, Minho breathed as deeply as he could and planted the first arrow in the middle of the target. His adversaries as well. But despite their efforts, the men didn’t have his talent nor his desperate determination, and when they hit a 9, Minho hit a perfect score, earning first place. As expected.
The stands applauded his results, and Minho shook hands with his adversaries, both congratulating him. Jisung sighed of relief, a tear at the corner of his eye because they had been through too much last night, and Minho being able to live his dream before him, it felt as if Jisung had finally found the meaning to his own life. His smile was worth it all.
And Minho smiled amidst the pain of walking up the podium, and Jisung smiled as well, applauding loudly when Minho received his medal. They exchanged an eye-contact, Minho sending him a shy finger heart before a photographer came in front of the podium to quickly take pictures.
Jisung felt a tear roll down his cheeks, proud of Minho, relieved to know their mission was over, that their new life started now. Tomorrow had finally come, and today fulfilled its promises. They finally started their lives together, finally breathed the air of a new world, finally hoped because now, a better future was within their reach.
The photographer took a few pictures, and once Minho was done, he looked back at Jisung, a smirk on the older's smug face. After all, the cup was his, he was the best, right? He always knew he’d win against them all, it was just a matter of time. The Olympics were only too close now.
And Jisung rolled his eyes, still a huge smile on his face. He could brag all he want, he would take care of that attitude with a few deserved kisses later on.
Notes:
to everyone who made it this far, thank you.
to everyone who left kudos on this story, thank you.
to everyone who commented and shared their thoughts, thank you.hope you appreciated this story. i love you all <3
minsung143 on Chapter 1 Tue 08 Apr 2025 07:25AM UTC
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sadness_luvr on Chapter 1 Sat 12 Apr 2025 04:32PM UTC
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Liknows (hanmings) on Chapter 1 Thu 24 Apr 2025 02:52PM UTC
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sadness_luvr on Chapter 1 Sun 27 Apr 2025 10:23PM UTC
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kayceeliz on Chapter 1 Wed 09 Jul 2025 11:23AM UTC
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sadness_luvr on Chapter 1 Sat 12 Jul 2025 10:47PM UTC
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kayceeliz on Chapter 2 Thu 10 Jul 2025 01:32PM UTC
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sadness_luvr on Chapter 2 Sat 12 Jul 2025 10:48PM UTC
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minsung143 on Chapter 4 Tue 08 Apr 2025 08:15AM UTC
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minsung143 on Chapter 5 Tue 08 Apr 2025 08:32AM UTC
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sadness_luvr on Chapter 5 Sat 12 Apr 2025 04:32PM UTC
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minji_skz (Guest) on Chapter 5 Wed 09 Apr 2025 07:41AM UTC
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hearts4skz on Chapter 5 Sun 20 Apr 2025 06:19AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 20 Apr 2025 06:19AM UTC
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