Chapter Text
Come to my office at 13.00. Don’t be late.
Jisung stared at the message on his phone again before his eyes moved to the time. It was ten minutes past one. He was already late. Sighing in defeat, he walked through the door to the tall building, nodding once to the receptionist as he made his way to the elevators in the back. Once the metal doors closed in front of him, he let out a deep sigh. He hated coming to see his father. It was never a positive sign when he requested to talk, especially in his office.
Han Seongwon was a cold man, powerful and ruling his company, and by extension his family, with an iron fist. He and Jisung, his youngest of two sons, had butted heads a lot since Jisung came back to Seoul after his mother’s passing. His father had deemed him too rebellious and free-spirited, too out of control for the image he was trying to present to the public, and all attempts to change that led to explosions of anger, until the young man eventually decided to run away to live his life outside of his father’s influence. Which is why he felt the dreadful chill of anxiety creeping in his body since the second he received the message this morning. At first, he thought of ignoring it, knowing there was nothing his father could say that would interest him, but he eventually relented to the pressure of his friends and made his way here. Taking his time, of course, which is why he was so late.
The sound of the elevator reaching its destination distracted him from his thoughts. He looked up just as the door opened, revealing a long hall with people walking around with quick strides, appearing from and disappearing into the many offices and conference rooms connected to the hall. Taking in a deep breath, Jisung joined them, making his way as quickly as he could to the glass door at the end of the hall. His father’s name stared back at him in golden letters, growing bigger the closer he got. Pushing the door open without knocking, he was greeted by the soft and warm smile of his father’s secretary. Ms. Kim was possibly the only person in this whole building he ever liked. She was kind and friendly and made sure to always make him feel welcome on the rare occasions he was around. She also appeared to not be that much older than him. The moment he stepped into the office and saw her smile, he felt his shoulders relax a bit, especially when he noticed the mischievous glint in her eyes.
“You’re late, Jisung-ah.”
A slight blush colored his cheeks at the familiarity of the name, but he quickly gave her a cocky smile.
“Noona, you know how much I like to make him wait. If I have to suffer coming here, he has to suffer waiting for me.”
The secretary chuckled and shook her head, standing up to go to the coffee pot in the corner of the room.
“If this was your plan, I hate to inform you it has failed. His previous appointment is still in. Coffee?”
She didn’t wait for his reply as she offered him a cup, the steam dancing up from it. Jisung’s smile grew as he accepted the drink and took a couple sips, his eye glancing at the clock on Ms. Kim’s computer screen.
“This appointment must be really important. He insisted I can’t be late, and yet he has me waiting.”
Ms. Kim, now once again sitting down at her desk, looked at him over her glasses, noting how he was pacing back and forth, probably due to his remaining anxiety.
“And yet you were still late…”
Jisung stopped pacing and frowned, his eyes glued to the floor in front of him.
“I didn’t wanna come. Chris had to convince me to, and by the time he did, I knew I’d be late. Still, I came anyway. I am not even sure why I bothered.”
He looked up only to see the sadness in the woman’s expression and on her seemingly ever-present smile, and the sight made him feel bad. Ms. Kim didn’t need to be burdened with his feelings; that wasn’t part of her job. And yet, somehow, Jisung knew she wouldn’t mind. She always acted and treated him like an older sister would. Even now, she wasted no time doing the same.
“Jisung-ah, I know you and your father have never been able to see eye to eye, and I don’t blame you. I know firsthand he is not an easy man to deal with. It must be harder for you, who was raised by a loving and doting mother for most of your life.”
His expression softened instantly at the mention of his mother. Tan Yue Yin was indeed as Ms. Kim described her, always caring for him and making him know he was loved, even as the cancer was slowly killing her. She had done everything to make sure Jisung wouldn’t end up like his father, going as far as to divorce the man and take her son with her back to Malaysia. Where, there, they lived happily, making music together in their little house until her last day. Jisung loved his mother. He still loves his mother. Loves and misses her so much he feels like crying, even though it’s been years since she died. Fighting back the tears he felt coming up at the memory of his mother’s last smile, he focused his attention on the wooden door to his father’s office. Sometimes, like now, Jisung couldn’t help but wish his father had gotten sick instead. His mother may not have had his father’s wealth, but she had so much more to offer to this world. She was loved by people, a fact that became evident by how everyone around them reacted to the news of her sickness and death and by the number of people that came to see her off, but his father was simply feared. Where his mother was seemingly attracting people to her, his father kept alienating everyone, even his sons. Jisung, in the rare moments he was trying to understand his father, kept wondering if this was what someone had to do to become a successful businessman leading an empire and if, had his mother not intervened, he would have become just as cold. This seemed to be the case. His older brother had grown up to be almost as bad as their father, which was the main reason the two siblings didn’t get along.
Lost deep in his thoughts, Jisung hadn’t noticed he had finished his drink until he tried to take a sip and only a few drops touched his lips. Surprised, he looked down and chuckled when his eyes met the bottom of his cup. Walking to Ms. Kim’s desk, he placed it there and checked the time on her desktop again. It was now almost half past one. He had given his father enough time to wrap up his current appointment. Smiling brightly now, he gave the woman in front of him a wink and started walking towards the door.
“I’m done waiting. My father better be ready for me.”
He was almost there when the door suddenly opened and someone barreled out, almost crashing into him. Jisung managed to step aside swiftly enough so only their shoulders collided, forcing the other person to look up at him. Suddenly a pair of wide, shiny, dark brown eyes met his, stealing his breath away. The connection only remained for a few seconds since the other person quickly turned forward and walked away almost as if he was hunted. Still, even this was enough time for Jisung to notice the tears in the corners of those beautiful eyes shaded by bleached blonde locks. Tears almost ready to escape. Tears that probably would escape before the other man left the building.
Jisung stood a few more minutes on the same spot, staring down the hall where the other man had disappeared inside the elevator, a frown settling on his brow as he kept recalling the look in the other man’s face. He had no idea why, but for some reason the memory of it made him feel unnerved, like something was not right. Still, he was here for a reason, and he had already wasted enough time that he could use to work on his songs. He would think about this random encounter once he was done dealing with his father.
Taking one last breath to prepare himself, he walked to the now open door and entered his father’s office, making sure to close the door behind him. Ms. Kim did nothing to deserve hearing the loudness of the potential argument that would most likely take place shortly. Once inside, his eyes fell on his father, who was sitting behind his desk in front of the wall-to-ceiling windows that kept the room too bright. The older man barely acknowledged him, glancing up only when Jisung dropped himself unceremoniously on the armchair in front of the desk. Jisung opened his mouth, not giving him the chance to speak first.
“For someone demanding I be on time, you definitely took your time to see me.”
His father stopped writing and looked up at him, his expression showing he was not amused by his son’s sarcasm. Jisung simply smirked, knowing this would taunt him even more. Han Seongwon carefully set his pen down and folded his hand on top of the paper he was currently working on.
“I had an appointment, Jisung.”
The younger man simply scoffed.
“Must have been a very important appointment to leave your son waiting so long…”
His father blew some air from his nose, probably to keep his composure, and sat back on his chair.
“I’m not going to entertain this attitude, Jisung, nor do I owe you any explanation.”
Jisung’s annoyance was now evident in his crossed arms and the crinkle between his eyebrows.
“You are the one who asked me here. Do you think I felt like seeing your face today? I could be at the studio now, working, instead of getting my ass all the way here to listen to your bullshit.”
This time his father didn’t attempt to compose himself, letting the anger show clearly in his dark eyes. Jisung hated how they looked like his.
“Enough! I called you here to tell you you need to make an appearance tonight at an event.”
The new information took the younger man by surprise, causing him to momentarily forget all his annoyance and anger.
“Me? Go to an event?”
His father seemed to share the sentiment, which was surprising considering he was the one asking him to go.
“Trust me, I would prefer you wouldn’t be there, but, unfortunately, you need to be seen in public at least once in a while.”
“I am seen in public. It’s not like I’m hiding in a cave or something.”
His father shot him a glare that, to Jisung’s annoyance, was enough to make him freeze and kill any remaining sarcasm.
“That studio you seem to be spending all your free time at and those bars you go to are akin to caves. But this is not what I’m talking about. It’s been a while since you made a public appearance at an event, and people will start talking.”
Jisung simply scoffed and looked away.
“Let them talk. It’s not like that’s any of my business.”
“It is mine. I can’t have rumors flying around that my relationship with one of my sons is strained.”
The explanation made the younger man roll his eyes.
“It’s not a rumor if it’s true.”
There was a long silence between them as they stared at each other, no one willing to back down. In the end, Jisung was the one to break it.
“Forget it. I’m not going to any events.”
He sat up, avoiding looking at his father as he started for the door. The man didn’t seem eager to stop him either. Yet, just before he opened the door, the memory of the man scurrying away with tears about to run down his face once more came to his mind. The frown returned, and he paused, his eyes seeking his father’s from over his shoulder. For some reason, he felt like he needed to know more, to know who that man was and why he left the way he did. The uneasy feeling crept up his body again and settled on his brain, and he knew this would most likely be his only chance to ask.
“Before me there was another man here.”
His father’s expression grew cold and stern, his lips now a thin line and his brows furrowed. Still, Han continued unbothered.
“Who was he?”
His father stared at him for a while before speaking.
“Why do you care?”
Jisung simply shrugged. He had a feeling he needed to be sneaky with his answer.
“No reason. He just left in a hurry and didn’t introduce himself.”
Han Seongwon’s face was now completely blank as he kept studying his son, making him wonder if he knew he had more to say. Finally, a cold, calculated smile appeared on his lips as he leaned forward, placing his chin on his hands.
“Come to the event tonight and you may find out more. He will be there too.”
The answer did nothing to ease this restlessness that seemed to be taking over his whole being since the encounter with the distressed man. It was too cryptic to do so, and, for some reason, it made Jisung feel trapped. His frown deepened as he wondered if the information was worth playing into his father’s hand and going to the event like a good, obedient son. This was just a random guy he wasn’t even connected to in any way, so what was the importance of knowing more about him? And yet, curiosity had settled in, helped by the memory of those almost tears and the expression of pain and something deeper, darker, in the well-sculpted face. Closing his eyes, Jisung simply sighed and pushed the door open. The last thing he heard from his father was an order to make himself presentable.
Minho had basically run out of the building as if hunted, stopping only when he was sitting at the bus stop. He could feel the tears already running down his face, and he rushed to brush them away, hoping he’d be able to hold them back until he was home. He didn’t need to gather more attention to himself than he already did. Thankfully, the bus arrived shortly after, and he jumped in, walking to sit in a lonely seat away from everyone, afraid he may not make it home after all. Curling into himself in his oversized jacket, he closed his eyes and bit his lip, fighting so hard to hold back.
“Come on, Minho… Just a bit longer. Then you can cry freely.”
His voice was a broken whisper as he kept repeating the words to himself like a mantra, hoping they would give him the strength he needed to not crumble down where everyone could see. Taking a deep breath, he took out his phone with a trembling hand and opened the app for his bank, cringing when he saw the amount on his balance. A sudden wave of nausea rocked his body as memories came to him of what he had to do to get the money, but he fought that back too, letting it get replaced with a feeling of shame and disgust. Still, he knew he had no other option. His mother’s rent was almost up, and he didn’t have enough money on his own to help her. He had to ask that man for help, even if he knew what he would ask in return. Another tear escaped at this thought, and he rushed to brush it away, taking in a shaky breath as he wired the money to his mom, adding a little extra so she can buy groceries too. He then opened their chat to send her a quick message that she could now pay the rent before locking the phone and shoving it back into his pocket.
Knowing it would take a while until he reached his stop, Minho moved his eyes to stare out the window in an attempt to distract himself from thinking about everything that happened. A task that proved difficult considering the voices in his head didn’t seem to shut up, repeating aloud every hateful thought he had about himself. Unable to make them stop, he closed his eyes again, letting out a loud whimper that seemed to cause a nearby passenger to glance at him, making him cower more to himself in an attempt to make himself invisible. It was probably just his mind playing tricks on him, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that person knew what he just did. He knew, deep down, that was impossible, that this was just a random person who just happened to be in the same bus as him, but the voices kept mocking him, distorting his thoughts and reality, and trying to convince him that everyone knew. This passenger knew, the secretary knew, and even that man he almost tumbled on back in the office knew.
Another whimper escaped him as he thought of that man, this one low enough to not cause the other passenger to glance at him again. Minho closed his eyes at the memory of the man’s face. He seemed young, younger than him, and he definitely looked as out of place in that building as he did himself. Minho wondered who he was and why he was there. Wondered if he was there for the same reason he was. He closed his eyes again and let out another sigh. No, he knew there was no chance Han Seongwon would need another one like him. The man was greedy and insatiable, but Minho knew he had no need for another toy since he got him all to himself. A shudder ran down his spine as he thought about how relentlessly this man had pursued him, haunting him with gifts and pressuring him until he finally gave in. Not that he had any other option. His work at the club was offering him a stable income, but not enough to take care of himself, his cats, his mom, and the mountain of a debt they had accumulated. A debt he was struggling to make a dent in. A debt he only managed to somewhat shrink after he agreed to sell what remained of his soul to his own personal devil.
His eyes focused a bit on the street outside the window. He was close now. A while longer and he could be at home, curling in the bed with his cats as he cried his shame away. A quick glance at his phone confirmed that it was still early. He had enough time to get home, have his mental breakdown, make something quick to eat, if his nausea allowed him to, and then shower and get ready to go to that dreadful event he had no place to be at. Minho recalled how confused he was when Han Seongwon told him it was expected he join him at the event tonight. He knew it couldn’t be as his date, but the man simply smiled when Minho asked why and didn’t give a clear answer. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get anything else out of him, Minho decided to cut his losses and leave as soon as he was given a clear warning to not dress like a slut. As if he had any intention to do so. He knew if he wore anything too flashy like he did at the club, he would stand out like a sore thumb, and Minho wanted nothing else but to gather as little attention to himself as possible.
His train of thought was interrupted when he noticed the bus reached his stop, and he quickly jumped off and made his way to the rundown building he was living at. His apartment was on the third floor, and there was no elevator, so he started climbing the stairs, head lowered as he tried to avoid gathering attention from other residents he may meet. Soon after, he was unlocking the door to his apartment, being greeted instantly by his three cats, who ran to welcome him and beg for pets and attention. Minho couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on his lips at the sight of his babies. Squatting down, he scratched each cat under the chin before standing up to walk to the small kitchen where their bowls were. They were empty. Minho’s eyes glanced at the cats again that were now circling him and letting out demanding mews.
“Give me a minute, my sweets. I’ll give you your food in a minute.”
He reached for the cupboard, the highest one, and took out the dry food, which he proceeded to offer in equal shares to his cats that instantly swarmed the bowls with loud purrs, making his smile grow. Sometimes Minho really hoped he could be a cat like them. Cats didn’t have to worry about debts or feeling shame for the things they had to do for money. As long as they had food and a warm place to sleep, cats were happy.
His smile disappeared as he once again thought of what happened back in that office. Of the way the hard floor felt against his knees and the way that man’s eyes traveled all over his naked skin as he stood in front of him, forced to embrace the pleasure as if it was wanted. The wave of nausea returned again, and this time he didn’t hold it back, running instead to the bathroom and kneeling over the toilet as he emptied everything in his stomach. Once he was sure there was nothing else to throw up, he sat down on the cold floor, bringing his knees to his chest and hugging them as he allowed his tears to freely escape his eyes and land on his torn jeans. It didn’t take long for the sobs to come back too, rocking his body as they grew louder and louder until they eventually turned to wails. Minho was in so much pain. Not physical pain, not anymore. His body was now numb to everything, occasionally feeling like it belonged to someone else, but mental pain and emotional pain. He used to be happy in the past and used to have so many dreams about the life he would live. He fought so hard to make those dreams come true… And then failed. All that happiness and all the dreams—they were so far in the past now that they could easily belong to another life. A life where Minho was someone else or didn’t make the mistakes he did in this life.
Minho had no idea how long he cried. He sat there, in the cold of his cramped bathroom, until the sobs subsided, and the tears dried, and his body and brain felt once again numb. Closing his eyes once to fully collect himself, he let out a sigh and slowly stood up to undress. He knew it would be a waste to try and eat now since he would end up throwing it up almost instantly, so he opted to take a shower instead. Standing under the showerhead, he opened the water, not even caring that it was cold as ice. Cold was always better. It helped numb the skin better, killing any sensation and helping him forget. Minho needed to forget. He needed to wipe his mind of all the memories. There were times when he wished he would get into an accident and get amnesia so he could start a new life as someone else, but then he kept thinking of his mother. He owed her so much, and he would hate to repay her with the pain of not remembering her.
Dropping his head back, he let the icy water wash away any remaining tears and, hopefully, any remnants of shame from his body. Minho had made his choice; he did so long ago, and he now had to learn how to live with it. He had to endure and hope the pain would never become too much to handle. Minho knew he couldn’t die, even if he did try once. No. Minho had to survive any way he could so he could take care of his mom like he promised her years ago. Maybe once she was gone, he would entertain any other options, but for now, he had to be here and make sure she had everything she needed, including his love and care.
With his mind now back in order, as much as it could be, he finished his shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked to his bedroom. He now had less time to get ready and prepare himself for the event and the upcoming night. He wished he could find an excuse not to go, but he knew better than to go against that man. Unless he wanted things to get harder for him, he had to accompany Han Seongwon to the event, fake a smile, and pretend he had a good time. Yet, he couldn’t get over this weird feeling he had about tonight. What he felt wasn’t exactly fear. He felt dread; he always did when he needed to meet that man, but this time it was accompanied by something unidentifiable. This time he had a feeling that something would be different, that something would change. For some reason, the memory of the brief interaction with that young man in the office came to his mind, leaving him frowning as he wondered what it could mean. Minho elected to ignore it all for now and focus on getting ready. After all, he didn’t have that much time left anymore.