Chapter Text
Early mornings were filled with people bustling, streets filling up with students and workers both scurrying and walking slow, some late, some having more than enough time in their hands. The busyness of the streets and the city would keep Mark alive, except—he wasn’t part of the bustling crowd fading into blurs, since he was already graduated years ago, and he was pathetically jobless.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, his ass probably numb from sitting there for hours, clicking away from job to job, hoping he’s lucky enough to be accepted in one. He has been jobless (or being a freeloader, as he painfully puts it) since that incident, and any other job interview in his line of work after that was hopeless, as well.
The guilt had been eating away at him for months now, not being able to send enough money to his parents (even though his mother insists that he doesn’t have to, even it’s the only way he could repay them), but most importantly, the rent and the bills. He’s surprised he still has enough thick skin to stay, but it’s honestly just Chenle who would threaten him if he ever tried to move out.
“What the hell, you’re still awake?”
Mark didn’t spare a glance on his yawning roommate, groggy and disheveled from sleep. Chenle shuffled over to peer at his laptop, only to grumble and push at his head, earning a quiet noise from Mark.
“When I got home, you were sitting there. I wake up and you still haven’t moved an inch from your spot,” the younger nagged at him like a mother catching her son who stayed up playing video games, except it’s Mark who was desperately trying to find a job.
However, Chenle didn’t think of that scenario. “I know you got a fat ass, Mark, but god. Give you and your ass a break and rest.”
Mark just shook his head, adamantly clicking from page to page, revising curricula vitae, applying for every role he knew he could do. He was even willing to do grunt work, but he didn’t study years in film school just for that.
His eyes were aching from staring at the screen for too long, his back pained from the bad posture, thanks to himself sitting on the floor and his laptop perched on the coffee table which was too low for him.
He managed to speak, finally looking away from the endless tabs of online job-hunting sites and to his roommate, who was currently brewing coffee for the two of them.
“I have to help you with the bills and rent. I can’t be a freeloader in this apartment forever, y’know… and I—I’m surprised you haven’t kicked me out yet.”
“It’s because I won’t. I don’t care if you don’t pay, I already told you that.”
He could still hear Chenle despite the whirring and the humming of the espresso machine, the younger’s voice loud, but still reassuring.
“Sure, you can’t cook,” Chenle started, and Mark doesn’t spare him a glance unlike the usual eye-roll that the Canadian would do, “but you help around in the house, Mark. You always try your best. Plus—C’mon, we’re practically brothers! You’re living with me whether you like it or not.”
Mark would immediately disagree and insist about it, but he was far too tired from the job-hunting, pushing the lid of his laptop shut as he made a sluggish attempt to get up and stretch.
He knew why Chenle didn’t care much about bills and rent: he was rich enough to have the luxury of not worrying. Perhaps Mark was exaggerating, but Chenle belonged to a generational wealth kind of family. Chenle would correct him and say ‘upper middle class’, despite the mansion that his family owned. The Zhong Estate.
Mark didn’t experience all of that. Being able to eat 3 meals a day, sleep on a bed and under a roof was enough for him, but to buy his wants and spoil himself (or as Chenle calls it, ‘self-care’), that’s a luxury he would never be able to afford.
He admired the younger for still working, because frankly, Chenle didn’t have to work at all, but he just does it because his job makes him happy. Mark is comfortable with his current job at the library, but he was truly happy in his previous profession. Yet, he dreaded it since that incident.
Chenle set down a mug of latte on the coffee table for the younger and blindly whipped out his phone from his pocket as he sat down on the sofa across Mark, ready to read the headlines like he’s reading the morning newspaper.
Mark muttered a soft ‘thanks’ for the younger for memorizing how he liked his coffee blended as he took a careful sip from the mug. He was thankful for little luxuries like these, and will always quietly look forward to it.
Across the couch, Chenle raised a brow, mid-sip from his coffee, not even tearing his gaze away from his phone.
“He has another rumor?”
“Who?”
“Who else, Lee Haechan.” Chenle replied, abandoning his mug on the table for the hot gossip. He leaned back on the backrest of the sofa, his face contorting into a look of intrigue and amusement. Mark could swear that he heard him giggle.
“Who’s Lee Haechan anyway?” Mark mumbled from his mug, the coffee still hot but almost empty. He didn’t react when Chenle gave him a look of disbelief, paired with a scoff.
He wasn’t the type who gave much importance on other people and their lives, unlike Chenle, who fed on it like those middle-aged aunties he would hear gossiping in the aisles of the grocery.
“You did—You did what?!”
The assistant was near to pulling out his hair, disheveled from all the head-holding and hair ruffling he has done five minutes prior to entering his boss’s suite.
Said boss was on the expensive couch (or ‘divan’, his boss would correct in an accent) lounged in his probably more expensive sleeping gown. The brunet was scrolling down his phone, a bitten apple in his other hand, until he faced his assistant with an eye roll.
“Read it yourself, dumbass.”
Jisung yelped as he made all attempts to catch the phone being tossed at him, thankful for his reflexes when he caught it safely. He scrolled down the news, each headline glaring at him in bold letters. When he dared to look, the brunet was smiling, happily munching on his apple.
“You… You slept with Sungchan?!”
Donghyuck laughed at his assistant’s meltdown, enjoying the sight too much. He just had the best sex of his life just a night after arriving back home in South Korea, and now he’s effortlessly back in the headlines.
Not that he made an effort to hide himself when he went to visit Sungchan’s house, no. It was that he barely made an effort at all.
The devil works hard, but Dispatch works harder, they say.
He took advantage of that, flaunting himself with a flimsy disguise consisting of only a pair of sunglasses and an oversized hoodie, but the heated kiss he shared with Sungchan by the front door of his house was the cherry on top of it all.
That was enough for the paparazzi to make gossip about him, sending his name in thousands of headlines as a welcome back greeting from South Korea.
Dispatch had no idea that they just played right into his favor, boosting him into fame with just a few snaps of their camera.
Donghyuck is the devil; he doesn’t have to work hard at all.
“Oh, do you wanna know? I’ll give you some details,” Donghyuck’s eyes sparkled, tossing the apple towards his assistant (who yelped once more before catching it) as he sat up on the divan, grinning at the younger who’s still looking stressed as ever, “His dick was sooo bi—“
“Please, spare me,” Jisung croaked, unable to fix his messy hair with his hands occupied by Donghyuck’s phone and apple. He finally froze from where he was standing, his eyes wide in horror at the realization. “Renjun’s gonna kill me. I’m gonna be fired.”
Donghyuck can’t help but to laugh, unable to hold back, enjoying the misery of his assistant probably way more than he imagined it to be. He was kind enough to fix the Jisung’s hair, combing through his messy locks as he cooed, trying to hold back his laughter when the younger stood awkwardly frozen in his spot.
“I’m not gonna fire you, not when my personal assistant is finally cute, hot, and so, so entertaining when miserable.”
Jisung finally broke out of his stance, grunting loud in hopes of concealing the heavy blush on his cheeks as he makes an attempt to stop his boss from touching his hair. He mumbled something about ruining his hair and touching it without his permission, but Donghyuck knew that the younger was feeling very flustered about it, being the shy man that he was.
Donghyuck had an effect on people, whether it may be stunning them starstruck, making their cheeks blush mad, leaving them squealing like schoolgirls, or rendering them dizzy from pleasure.
He knew how to get someone wrapped around his finger with some flattery and sometimes a touch behind prying eyes. He relished in it, the attention, the eyes, the gossip, the lengths people would go for him.
He loved being the talk of the people, when nothing came out of their mouths but his name. It was vain of him to search his name in the web and read the headlines with his name on it, but why wouldn’t he?
He’s Lee Haechan, world famous top star actor, the pride and fame of South Korea.
He had all the right in the world to be vain.