Chapter Text
“Heavy, isn’t it?” Minhyuk asks.
Hyungwon, crouched beside him, shrugs.
“Isn’t it made of steel?”
“But people carry it around and make it seem so easy”, Minhyuk murmurs, turning the gun in his hands. He throws it up just a little, makes it fall on his open palms, scratched.
“No, they don’t”, Hyungwon says and falls back on his butt when Minhyuk holds the gun properly and points it at him. “What the fuck! Lower this!”
Minhyuk smiles, a lazy smirk curving in the corner of his chapped lips, and blinks unevenly. Hyungwon’s eyes are wide; he freezes on the ground, like any movement could make Minhyuk pull the trigger.
Fear that lasts for a couple seconds, only. Minhyuk turns around, extends his arm, points at the distance – at a pillar, and pulls the trigger.
It’s loud. Louder than they imagined, and Hyungwon winces, surprised, while Minhyuk falls back on his butt too, yelling at the impact the bullet coming out of the gun sends back.
“Shit!” He screams. The shot seems to reverberate on the empty space, through their bodies. Hyungwon is still in awe, frozen, while Minhyuk curses and curses and curses, throwing the gun on the floor and kicking it far away from them.
There’s also noises of rats running around, frightened by the disturbance of their peace. Hyungwon can’t quite blame them – it’s not usual to have that much noise down here.
“It fucking hurt!” Minhyuk continues complaining, and Hyungwon finally feels like he can move, turns his head really slowly. “God fucking damnit! How can someone use this shit?”
Hyungwon swallows, and sniffs. After all these years hiding from their little robberies by taking the sewer, he still isn't used to the horrific smell.
“Well, I’m sure they practice”, Hyungwon says, and Minhyuk looks at him with annoyance. Now that he’s not holding the gun anymore, the sight isn’t dangerous. “You have no skills.”
“Alright, smartass. What about you?” Minhyuk asks. Hyungwon frowns at him, watches as gets up and takes the gun he kicked a few meters from them and hands it to Hyungwon, thankfully holding it in the right way. “Try it for yourself.”
Hyungwon shakes his head. One thing is to shoplift distracted people on the streets, at stores, threaten cashiers in the middle of the night with a knife they stole from the orphanage’s kitchen and take everything they can home, improvised balaclavas covering everything but their eyes and nostrils.
The other is to hold a fucking gun they found in the sewer. Must have a reason to be there.
Hyungwon shakes his head. “No.”
Minhyuk smirks again. He insists, shaking the gun, still pointed towards his hip as he stands in front of Hyungwon.
“C’mon. Don’t be a pussy”, he says, voice rough that sounds too loud in the half-darkness of the night, still.
“Shut up.”
“C’mon, Hyungwon-ah.” Minhyuk crouches down, his dirty blonde hair covering part of his face. Hyungwon thinks it’s stupid, how they almost get caught this time because they needed bleach to retouch their roots. “Just once. I did it, you need to.”
“I need to?” Hyungwon retorts, but Minhyuk doesn’t say anything, still holding the gun. The weirdest shit they've ever been through in the fourteen years they have known each other, and Hyungwon is even a bit nauseous.
He stares at the smirk, at Minhyuk’s luminous eyes, and swallows down saliva and fear. Then, his eyes lower to the shiny gun on Minhyuk’s hand; he doesn’t even know what type of crime was committed with it, and feels like an accomplice, somehow. Their fingerprints will be all over it, and he doubts it’s a good thing.
But if there’s anything Hyungwon is very bad at is saying no to Minhyuk.
So he grabs the damn thing and Minhyuk chuckles, satisfied. Sits back propping himself on his open hands behind him and seems not to care they’re in the dirtiest place on Earth, legs sprawled in front of him.
“I think it’s loaded. Just—” he gestures with his chin to the pillar he just shot, “pull the trigger.”
“I know how to shoot, I’ve seen the same movies you did”, Hyungwon says back, trying not to show he’s afraid. If Minhyuk hears the shakiness in his voice, he says nothing.
Hyungwon isn’t one to commit the same mistake as others. He saw how Minhyuk didn’t even stand correctly, just pointed the pistol to a random place, and didn't hold a proper posture. Hyungwon knows people who shoot need to hold a stance; he once saw it on TV. That’s why he stands tall, supports the right forearm in the left hand, firm, and bends it a bit. He might be doing everything wrong, but still feels a little proud to see the smug smile disappearing from Minhyuk’s face.
There’s a rat on the pillar. It’s scrunching its nose, red bright eyes and brown fur, a big tail curled up around its big body. Hyungwon stopped being afraid of rats some time ago, but he thinks he will never stop disliking cockroaches, and he knows they’re in their home now.
He takes a deep breath. Holds his arm, fingers tightly pressed around his skin, and relaxes his shoulder. It’ll probably hurt more if he stays tense.
Inhales. Looks down at Minhyuk, but the boy is silently impressed and anxious to see what will happen.
And fast, maybe faster than the bullet, Hyungwon exhales and looks forward again, pulling the trigger.
He winces again but a lot less, now that he knows what to expect.
Minhyuk shouts, and again the sound cuts the air, disturbing, weird. Hyungwon drops the gun on the floor and grits his teeth. Feels slight pain on his right arm, but it’s bearable.
“Holy fucking shit”, he hears Minhyuk murmuring, and opens his eyes very slowly.
Where there once was a rat, now it’s a mess of red – guts and blood all the way up the pillar, and the bullet inside the cement.
Its head is destroyed. A perfect aim.
Hyungwon doesn’t like the look in Minhyuk’s eyes.
It gets Hyungwon snorting, so many years later, when remembering about the first time he held a gun.
And it’s only because the boy in front of him is so young, and disarming him was so easy. His big doe eyes are wide, frightened, face pale, but his jaw is slowly turning into a weird shade of purple and green. It would be a bad bruise, Hyungwon thinks. He would need to see a doctor to get that checked, to make sure his jaw isn’t broken.
A shame. Really is.
Behind him, Hyungwon can hear grunts and just the sounds of a battle. He doesn’t need to worry, though. Looking over his shoulder, chewing slowly the stick of a lollipop that long ended, he sees Minhyuk moving like he’s dissolving on thin air, his knife entering the throat of a guy before the other pierces another's stomach, and there’s the typical smell of blood everywhere, gross, that never leaves, even after they shower.
Hyungwon turns back to the boy and uses his tongue to push the lollipop stick to the other side. Eyelids heavy, he didn’t get much sleep the night before, Kihyun wanting to make sure they knew exactly what to do even though he wouldn’t put a foot out of the god damned office – only Minhyuk, Hyungwon and Changkyun would.
And Hyungwon and Minhyuk don’t need much instruction. They don’t need too many orders, they just need to be told what is the plan, who they need to get.
Twelve guys, not counting the one we need, Kihyun had said. Pointed at their pictures with his small finger and Hyungwon boredly took a look at it. Minhyuk, on the other hand, enthusiastically leaned over Hyungwon’s arm and smiled, taking in every one’s face on those papers. Engraving in his memory the features of those who would be his victims.
You can take it, right?
Hyungwon scoffed.
The sounds of fighting cease, and soon Minhyuk is standing beside him, his white shirt now red. He’s entirely red, to be honest, and Hyungwon still doesn’t know how he manages to look beautiful even bathed in blood.
“Now, that was good”, he laughs. Hyungwon nods, tilting his head to his side, eyes still on the boy tied to the chair in front of them. “There was one that I’m sure that knew something of Krav Maga, it was almost like he knew what I was going to do.” He smiles, takes a tissue from inside his pocket and cleans his face, looking down at the boy in front of them. “Good job, baby. You did hire some nice men.”
Hyungwon snorts, even though his jaw is set tight because of the nickname.
The boy doesn’t answer. Hyungwon sees his Adam's apple bobbing, as he swallows down fear.
He points the gun to the boy’s bleeding knee. “Does that hurt?”
When he doesn’t answer, Minhyuk crouches on his level, on purpose leaning on the bruised thigh. The boy groans, lowering his head and shutting eyes closed.
“Cat got his tongue, I think!”
Hyungwon chuckles. Minhyuk likes to play with his food before he eats it – teasing, testing limits, a somewhat innocent grin on his lips – but this meal, this boy, is Hyungwon’s.
Revenge is a dish best served cold.
“I promise the pain will end soon”, Hyungwon says, and Minhyuk tilts his head. Hyungwon looks at him for a while and swallows down the turmoil inside his chest, seeing how cute he suddenly looks, eyes wide like a puppy even with two huge bloody knives on both hands. “I just need a name.”
The boy shakes. Hyungwon sees tears falling from his eyes to his thighs, to Minhyuk’s forearms, mixing with the blood of his dead comrades.
Hyungwon expected more of Cypher.
Such a shame.
“C’mon. I know you know. I need it.” Hyungwon looks at the 5.11, and feels its weight on his hand. He’ll need to reload it very soon, but for now it’ll do the job.
“I—I don’t know, I—”
Minhyuk sighs, throws his head back. “Eight, can I kill him?”
His voice is so whiny it’s almost funny. Hyungwon always wants to laugh when Minhyuk calls him by his street name.
The way the boy audibly sobs is so sudden and unexpected that Hyungwon’s eyebrows move up.
“Get up”, he murmurs, and Minhyuk does as told, getting on his feet again. He takes a few steps back, looks down at the floor and kicks some bullets, frowns at the mess Hyungwon left.
“You did enjoy yourself, huh? I think I had never seen a brain before.”
Hyungwon smiles. He indeed put a little more effort tonight, but only because it has been a while since they were out together as Twins. He thinks he missed it, the adrenaline and the excitement of a good old man-to-man combat, or in his case, man-to-gun.
And also, the sight of Minhyuk possessed by the fury of a fight is amazing. Perhaps better than the revenge itself.
He crouches in front of the boy and holds his chin firmly, raises his head until they’re eye to eye. Hyungwon sees how he pathetically babbles, please, please, I don’t know, I don’t know, let me go, with tired eyes of someone that desperately needs some food, a smoke, and a twelve-hour sleep.
“Look”, he starts, and the boy shuts up immediately. Minhyuk giggles behind him. “I know you know the one I’m looking for. I know it was one in five, so I just need you to confirm it for me.”
The boy keeps silent, and Hyungwon can’t help but admire his loyalty.
“Baby, that’s how things are, in the business. You can’t expect to start working and not deal with this—” Minhyuk gestures to their surroundings, “Without getting a little bit hurt.”
Hyungwon nods curtly. He’s not a patient person, but it’s Friday, and Hyunwoo promised him the weekend off.
“I’ll give you one more chance.” Hyungwon holds the boy’s chin tighter, but then lets go, as if to show he’s being benevolent. “We know who was trying to get in our zone. There’s an agreement, one that was signed at a table in front of every boss. I’m sure you know that. You’re young, but I know you’re not dumb.”
Maybe, he is. Dumb as Hyungwon and Minhyuk were when they first started doing that, ten years ago. Dumb because Hyungwon specifically knows why the boy in front of him entered the god damned business.
The same reason Hyungwon did.
“C’mon, baby”, Minhyuk says then, getting closer and taking the boy’s hair out of his face, tinging it in red. The boy winces, probably disgusted by being touched by a hand that’s bathed in at least five men’s blood, but Minhyuk doesn’t bother. His voice is velvety when he continues, “C’mon, one little name out of your pretty mouth, and it’s done.”
Hyungwon presses his hand on the bruised knee as another punishment at the same time Minhyuk thumbs the boy’s lower lip and it’s funny, again, how he wants to move in opposite directions, out of the hands where his life resides, now.
He keeps silent, though.
So Hyungwon’s patience ends.
He stands up, unlocks the gun. The sound is loud in the silent house; Minhyuk looks at him and takes his distance, standing behind, tapping his thighs with his knives softly.
“You should have stayed in school”, Hyungwon murmurs, and points the gun to the boy’s head.
And as always, it works perfectly.
“D!” The boy yells, terrified eyes wide, voice harsh. Tears never stopped running down his face. “It was his right-hand man! The one with the scar on the eye, the one that uses swords!”
Hyungwon continues pointing the gun at him, but Minhyuk speaks.
“Ah, fuck off! The Scar? That fucking show-off!” His voice is loud and frustrated, making the boy flinch. Hyungwon lets himself smile at both the reactions, because Minhyuk never liked the sword guy, and because the thrill of the hunt is finally reaching its peak. “I told you, didn’t I? I even told Shark, he said it wasn’t him, that he was in Japan—”
“He was, he was! But he’s back, he came back last month and he was the one that did everything, the others were only there to help! He killed the corresponding guy and one of your chiefs and told us to send the hand as a warning!”
Hyungwon fully grins, now. Turns to Minhyuk with satisfaction, and sees the same in his partner’s eyes, in his gummy smile.
“See? Wasn’t that hard”, Hyungwon says, then. Lowers the gun just a little bit, and licks his lips as the boy relaxes, collapsing against the chair back. “We just needed a name, and you gave it to us. If you had done that before, you probably won’t even be that hurt.”
The boy nods. His head hangs low, tears still falling.
“But it’s a dog-eats-dog world, this one over here. And you should know that if your boss killed one of our main chiefs and sent his hand as a warning, we—” Hyungwon looks at Minhyuk, “need to send some back, too.”
The boy’s head is up so quickly it’s a surprise it doesn’t fall from his neck to the floor.
“Do you think this warning is enough?” Minhyuk asks, putting on that fake sweet-like-syrup voice tone, blinking innocently even covered in red. The boy nods eagerly, eyes wide again. Desperate to be free from this situation. Confused, on why he’s still tied to the chair, when he gave them what they asked for.
Hyungwon’s eyebrows barely lift at the answer. “You think?” He repeats, and the boy this time brokenly pleads, I told you it was him, I’m just responsible for this spot— “Well, I don’t.”
The boy can’t even react before life is taken from him.
The sound, and the silence.
Hyungwon blinks after the echo subsides, lowers his arm and takes a deep breath.
Now, this warning is enough.
Minhyuk and him stay in silence for a couple seconds, and then, obviously, it’s the eldest of them that breaks it.
“I’m hungry.”
It’s so out of place and random, and so Minhyuk, that Hyungwon laughs, bubbly, coming out of his stomach and disturbing the graveness of the situation. Minhyuk laughs, too – mirrors his expression and throws an arm around his shoulder, their bloodied shirts wet and cold at touch.
“Tell me you’re not hungry”, Minhyuk winks, bumping their hips together. Hyungwon feels even more powerful and satisfied.
“You’re a fucking psycho”, he tells Minhyuk, and receives a childish tongue back, nose scrunching. Hyungwon takes a final look at their surroundings and turns around. “But yeah, me too. Let’s grab something.”
And as they make their way out the place, Minhyuk points at the ones he fought and says what techniques he used to beat them. Hyungwon listens attentively, because he knows barely nothing about close combat, just enough for an emergency, but he always pays attention to what Minhyuk has to say.
Changkyun is reading when they knock on the black sedan with bruised knuckles, his heavy eyes widening as they see Minhyuk’s state, and unlocks the door.
Minhyuk slips on the back, the seat covered in plastic, already, while Hyungwon takes the passenger.
“Ah—hyung! You take care with these dirty shoes, I sent the car to be washed last week!” Changkyun complains, looking back as Minhyuk smiles at him and takes off the bloodied shoes, puts them on the seat beside him. Hyungwon does the same, handing them to Minhyuk. “Hyungwon-hyung, not you too!”
“What did you expect? We always get dirty”, Hyungwon sighs, relaxing on the seat, closing his eyes. They’re burning.
Changkyun remains silent for a couple seconds, the ruffling of pages as he closes the book and puts it in the glove box.
“All right?”
Hyungwon doesn’t answer because he knows Minhyuk will.
“Obviously”, he snorts. Changkyun starts the car, and the streets are silent as they make their way back to civilization. “It was a shame, though. The boy was pretty cute, with shiny eyes and pouty lips. Probably younger than you, Kyun-ah.”
Hyungwon hears Changkyun’s low chuckle. “Got you interested, then, hyung?”
“Well, you know. Just because I’m about to kill them doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate them, you know?”
Changkyun laughs again, but Hyungwon doesn’t.
“I’ll tell Jooheon-hyung. He waits for you at the bar while you go to work and is this how you repay?”
He keeps a straight face when Minhyuk’s hands come from behind him, hugging Changkyun tightly against the car seat in a playful attempt to smother him. Hyungwon opens one eye and extends a hand, holding the steering wheel to keep the car in a straight line.
It’s weirdly normal to see someone covered in blood from head to toe in the headquarters, so people don’t even take a second look when Minhyuk, Hyungwon and Changkyun enter the bar.
That’s it – one takes.
They sit on their usual table and Changkyun doesn’t even need to turn around to raise an arm. Furious steps come their way through the crowd and Hyungwon feels his cheeks working against his will, mouth opening in a big, tired smile.
There’s a slam of hands over the black table top. “What the fuck?”
Changkyun smiles apologetically, and Minhyuk huffs, long legs extended under the table that touch Hyungwon’s, and crosses his arms.
“Evening, noona—”
“Why the hell are you looking like you came out of a slaughterhouse?”
“It was a slaughterhouse!” Minhyuk defends himself. “What do you think we do? Preach?”
“Don’t—“ Minhyuk has his lobe pulled until he’s whining, face contorting in pain, trying not to fall from the chair as he’s being pulled down. “—try me, brat. Where is the respect? Killed it, too?”
Yongsun is the maternal figure they didn’t have. Two years older than Minhyuk, three than Hyungwon, she’s secretly the first-lady of business, Hyunwoo’s wife, what only few of the men know.
Hyungwon did even before he was told, though. There is no way to mistake the way Hyunwoo’s smile is always a bit more tranquil and how his wide shoulders visibly relax every time she’s around, rivaling with Kihyun on who puts the most fear in a bunch of big guys carrying weapons as heavy as themselves.
It is funny.
And she likes everybody, apparently, but is especially motherly with them. Always the one who greets them when they return from work – open arms and sour words like an earnest mother would.
Hyungwon talks before Minhyuk does, “Sorry, noona. It was a busy night and we needed something to ease the tension.”
She turns to him and he feels suddenly self-conscious of his own bloody state, dirty clothes and dried blood of others under his nails.
“You, too?” Yongsun asks, frowning as takes Hyungwon’s state, the corners of her tinted pink lips turning up in disgust. “What the hell did they send you to do?” Minhyuk takes the opportunity to break off from her hold and slaps her hand, receiving an even harder slap in the back of his neck. “Brat, behave!”
“Can you stop treating me like I’m seven? You don’t even ask if we’re—” he shoots Hyungwon a look as if saying, help, but Hyungwon only keeps smiling, “—fine!”
Amusing, the way Minhyuk can move with so much dexterity, can do unimaginable things with knives, he can kill without blinking, and such a small woman can subdue him so easily. The talented assassin and the man sitting beside Hyungwon are completely different people, who separate the moment they cross the threshold of the bar.
“I don’t need to ask if you’re good because the only blood here is others, not yours!” Yongsun says again, voice a little lower. She turns to Changkyun. “And you?”
Changkyun gulps. Hyungwon is having so much fun watching the scene. “Me, what, noona?”
“Were you involved this time?”
Changkyun shakes his head negatively, and Hyungwon takes pity on the youngest and talks again. “He was the driver tonight.”
“Good. I hate when they involve the kids”, she says, voice even lower. Doesn’t sustain Hyungwon’s look for too long, averting eyes to Minhyuk. “Still glad you convinced Kihyun-ssi not to put Jooheonnie on this tonight.”
Minhyuk grins. Hyungwon knows his body language enough to know he’s embarrassed, though; and he didn’t even start drinking but it already feels bitter on his tongue.
“I didn’t want him to see that mess.”
“Jooheon-hyung is older than me, hyung.” Changkyun rolls his eyes, and gestures to Hyungwon. “He’s the same age as Hyungwon-hyung. You treat him like a baby too.”
“It’s no secret Jooheonnie has Minhyukkie here as the most interested in his safety”, Yongsun teases, and has the man beside her crossing his arms, pouting.
He looks strangely childish like that, another way he can change his expression so quickly, so easily, and the bitterness Hyungwon found himself in mere seconds ago disappears, a smile slowly appearing on the corner of his lips, even with such a comment.
“Stop! If you talk like that all the time he’ll think I have a crush on him, or something.”
Yongsun rolls her eyes.
“Or something, right. Brat”, she pulls his earlobe again and crosses her arms in front of her chest. The black blouse she’s using tonight is nice, the V neck a bit bigger than normal. It probably brings attention. “You’ll want the same, then?”
Changkyun nods, Minhyuk huffs, and Hyungwon is the one who answers verbally again.
“Neat for me”, Hyungwon says, and receives a short nod. “Thank you, noona.”
The waitress turns around with no other words, and Hyungwon holds his breath when finds Minhyuk grinning playfully at him.
Hyungwon first met Minhyuk when they were both four.
One day, Hyungwon slept in his bed, in a banjiha. The other, his mother was yanking him by the hand and leaving him in front of an orphanage’s door, a kiss on the cheek, and vanished completely.
Three weeks later, he was introduced to Minhyuk. His parents died in a car accident, and having no other living relatives, he had no choice but to stay in the orphanage.
They have shared a room since day one; Hyungwon remembers seeing bright big eyes scared of being alone in a house full of other kids. Minhyuk was so shy – not like Hyungwon, but like a hurt animal. Jolted at any minimal noise, didn’t look people in the eye.
But things got better. They befriended easily, Minhyuk walking behind Hyungwon like a puppy, sharing small smiles and tiny touches that became hugs and silly kid fights, and Hyungwon slowly watched Minhyuk becoming louder and louder, his contagious laugh and high energy that seemed to light up the place and make everything better. It made Hyungwon happier, too, and being weak when surrounded by such brightness, had no option but to go along.
It got to a point where people would question if they were brothers, by the way they were always together. Likes and dislikes very similar, dark long hair covering their faces that both were forced by the school’s Principal to cut it, loud laughs that ringed on the walls as they skipped classes to smoke on the school’s terrace, looking at people passing and complaining about life, wondering how it would have turned out if things didn’t go wrong so early in their lives.
The name Twins came from that.
And it was Minhyuk, who had the idea of the first theft.
Back then, they were only sixteen, high school Juniors that wanted to break some rules.
They didn’t think much about the consequences of their acts; just knew they wanted to feel something different, the thrill of adrenaline running through their veins. It was addicting, and even Hyungwon not being one for impulsive acts, Minhyuk kind of awakened the worst (or best) in him.
Again, he was never good at saying no to Minhyuk.
All it took was an empty backpack, a distracted cashier in a convenience store, and twenty minutes later Hyungwon and Minhyuk were downing beers and more beers, laughing until their stomachs hurt, proud of that small conquest.
Easy, Minhyuk said. Hyungwon nodded. Next time, we can try something else.
Hyungwon didn’t think much because he was drunk for the first time, enjoying the foreign feeling of losing a bit of control; but also because he thought it was a one-night thing, that they didn’t really need to shoplift stuff. They had food at the orphanage, people were always donating clothes, they even had a half-time job in a gas station.
Right, Hyungwon smiled. And thought that was it.
Now, so many more years after that first night, Hyungwon still doesn’t know how to pinpoint the exact moment everything changed.
Doesn’t know when things started to unravel, the moment he stopped being a normal high-schooler to be doing small robberies with Minhyuk and getting into fights, learning how to hurt without getting hurt and act without leaving traces. Doesn’t know when Minhyuk started getting so addicted to the adrenaline that he couldn’t live if they didn’t at least do something every night, how Hyungwon ended up finding himself addicted to the same thing, having the same desperation and maybe even a desire to do wrong, wrong, wrong.
It was so risky but so much fun, and it was sudden, the way Hyungwon came to enjoy the wind in his hair and the way his lungs burned every time they ran and hid from the police, backpacks full of items that didn't belong to them.
It’s all a blur in his mind, to be honest.
But mostly, Hyungwon doesn't know when Minhyuk stopped being his brother to become something else.
When the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped making Hyungwon grimace and started bringing butterflies to his belly, when Minhyuk’s laugh started sounding like music, when Hyungwon started noticing the small things in his face, like the unevenness of his blinks, the way his smiles always reach his eyes, how graciously he held a knife, how intense his eyes always were, open, almost vulnerable, if Hyungwon didn’t know him better. He can’t pinpoint all the times he swore there was a tension between them, especially during work nights where his husky voice made him goose-pimpled and he called, Eight, with a lick in his lips that made Hyungwon wonder if Minhyuk tasted as sweet as the cocktails he liked to drink.
Hyungwon didn’t believe in God, but sometimes it feels like he sold his soul to the Devil.
Maybe it was that gun. The gun they found inside the sewer at eighteen. The moment Hyungwon shot that rat his entire life changed, because Minhyuk didn’t let him get out of that hideous place without the item.
Weird, Hyungwon thought, feeling the weight of his gun holster on his waist for the first time, Minhyuk grinning like a madman in front of him, proud of an accomplishment that wasn’t his. That he had such a talent to shoot and kill stuff, and he would have never discovered it if Minhyuk didn’t insist.
He’d never know if Minhyuk saved or doomed his life.
Maybe it was both.
And being on their own, there would only be one way to grow in the underworld.
Hyungwon was good with a gun, and had the cold blood needed to execute without thinking too much. Minhyuk was too eager, but had the charm that seduced people (and when that specific talent was discovered, so many things started making sense).
Money started to enter, because fortunately or not, they were good.
People started hiring them to small services that became big in no time, and at some point they really started being called the Twins. Dark hairs that turned into blonde, and then colorful, and then black again. Tall, skinny, even though Minhyuk was always a bit more sturdy than him when they were young. Maybe it was a force of nature, a process of evolution, how similar they always have been.
It was before the clan.
The Clan. Capital letters, actually.
All it took was a miscalculated assault and Hyungwon and Minhyuk found themselves tied against each other's backs, thrown into a ditch, gun taken from Hyungwon and Minhyuk’s fists useless.
Twins, the older man said, towering over them. I heard about you. I just didn’t think you’d be so young.
Hyungwon remembers thinking the man couldn’t be more than five years older than him, but he wore a tailored suit, had brown hair styled back and a broadness of shoulders Hyungwon could only dream of.
And most importantly, he had Hyungwon’s pistol in his hands.
They almost didn’t survive, that day. Minhyuk’s loud mouth could have cost their lives, like usual, but this time they weren’t messing with ramblers, with random people that did the same they did, liked some non-conventional type of fun here and there.
The men towering over them were the big guys, the real ones, who only dirtied their hands with important things.
A couple punches, Minhyuk spitting blood on the sidewalk while Hyungwon felt the cold of a gun pressed on his temple for the first time, and a boy just as young as them smirked, sharp teeth in an equally sharp face, asked if they would like a partnership.
We’re trying to grow, you know, and having both of you would be really interesting for business. The bigger one, the one who had called them by their street name, nodded. We can give you much more than only money, the boy added.
Hyungwon felt Minhyuk writing with the tip of his fingers against his back. No. But Hyungwon sensed that if he said that, if he shook his head in the position they were in, it would be the end.
So he said, yeah, I think we can talk, ignoring how Minhyuk buttheaded his head with his.
It was like a movie scene. In a second, they were downing drinks, planning a robbery, surrounded by big armed men, the others who were recruited over time, Hyunwoo silently nodding as Kihyun, who acted more like the boss than the man beside him did, pointed potentially dangerous people and escape routes planned specifically for that situation.
Hyungwon nodded, but really only paid attention to the face of the men he was supposed to kill, leaving the rest for Minhyuk. Having learned techniques on how to fight and how to kill with different weapons, the first assault was always his, the first approaching. Hyungwon was only there to coup de grace, to be the eyes behind his back if things went wrong.
The reaper, they once called him. Always wearing black, unmerciful in the way a bullet leaves the gun he holds to end his victims’ lives. It made him snort, because the nickname was shit. He would much rather be called by Eight, his street name, or even one of the Twins.
But he agreed, either way. The first time his words were valued more than Minhyuk’s.
And the rest is history.
Nicotine burns Hyungwon’s throat as he inhales, the light of the tip of cigarette illuminating his face on a dark alley. Beside him, Minhyuk pouts in thought, hands on his pants pockets, tapping his foot on the floor at the rhythm of some song he’s probably singing on his head.
“They’re late, aren’t they?” He asks, voice barely audible. Hyungwon likes how Minhyuk can be both loud as a fuck but so quiet, too.
He wants to smile, but is somehow deep inside his work-persona and doesn’t; turns his wrist, checks the hours.
“Five minutes.”
“Those motherfuckers”, Minhyuk hisses, and goes back to his song.
His hair is brown, now. Lighter than Hyungwon’s, and it always felt like that: the sun and the moon walking together, bringing chaos with them. Secretly, Hyungwon enjoys that contrast.
They wait a little bit more until two shadows appear, one by one, inside the alley.
“Unarmed”, one of the men announces, and Hyungwon grins around his cigarette, feeling the cold of the gun on his back pressing his skin before replying, same.
An extended hand comes to their line of vision and Minhyuk shakes it first, not hiding his annoyance with the delay.
“We have things to do, you know that. Can’t be waiting for you all night”, he complains, and shakes the second guy’s hand. “Stronger, asshole, otherwise people will think you don’t mean what you say.”
The man only grunts. Hyungwon lips tremble with a repressed laugh but he keeps his face stoic. Shakes their hands and stands tall, taking the cigarette from between his lips and exhaling the smoke into the night air.
“So”, he starts. Wasn’t The Clan who proposed that meeting, so he isn’t one to speak first. Feels supported by the snipers in the buildings around them, knows that Changkyun is hiding behind the dumpster in the corner just as the henchmen of the two in front of them are also nearby, safeguarding like angels of the night.
The tallest among the two speaks. His voice is husky, but Hyungwon doesn’t find it as pleasing as he finds Minhyuk’s husky voice.
“The message you sent was delivered successfully.” He’s smiling, but the one beside him isn’t. “Boss thought about it and, after all, it wasn't the most intelligent decision.”
Hyungwon nods, but it’s Minhyuk who says, “Was a shitty one.”
The tallest chuckles as if it was really funny. “This is the offering of a truce.” He extends his hand, asking for it to be shaken again. Hyungwon replays Kihyun’s words in his mind – let them talk before doing anything. If the Scar moves, you kill him. “We won’t play funny business in your territory again.”
Minhyuk breathes like he’s about to speak, but Hyungwon discreetly pulls his belt, like someone would do with a dog’s collar.
“Conditions.”
“There’s none”, the smallest, the man with a scar, says. “Each to their one.”
“And you were sent here to this? Is your boss finally with his tail between his legs, after we sent the message through his boytoy?” Minhyuk asks, and Hyungwon can’t avoid smiling this time, because the commentary finally breaks the tallest's polite diplomatic smile and he tightens his jaw, the Scar taking a step forward.
He won’t do anything because he’s not stupid, but Hyungwon’s hand still discreetly goes to his back, to the gun handle.
“Careful, pillow princess. I wouldn't play with it if I was you.”
Minhyuk’s grin widens, and he looks at Hyungwon over his shoulder. His face is still painfully neutral, but his teeth are pressed against each other hard, almost to the point of hurting.
He hates the decisions they made, sometimes.
“Eight, do you hear something? I think I’ve heard a buzz.” And turning back to the scar man, he says, voice sweet like honey, “Sorry, baby. I only talk to men who are over one-seventy tall.”
Hyungwon would laugh if he wasn’t still thinking about the hidden meaning of those words.
“You can’t blame us for doubting you, Jack”, Hyungwon says to the tallest man. “It’s not like you didn’t kill one of our chiefs and sent his hand in a box to the office. It was only fair to do the same.”
Jack smiles, and he’s back to diplomacy. “I know, Eight. There are rules, and in the end we’re all following them.” He looks at the scar man beside him. “Isn't it right, D?”
D doesn’t reply.
There’s a small tension in the air that really is all Hyungwon can ask for. He knows nothing will come out of this, but it’s still refreshing. He thought his night would be homey, sitting on the couch eating takeout and watching Minhyuk's curse as he played some videogame where the characters act just like them in real life, shirtless, his brown hair up in pigtails. Hyungwon has a bunch of pics of him just like that in his phone gallery.
“You know heads will roll if you’re lying”, Hyungwon doesn’t ask, because Jack knows it well. He’s intelligent, and isn't in vain one of the heads of one of their many enemies. Like Hyungwon and Minhyuk, the pair has the same dynamic – one does cold killing, has the contacts, and the other is a baron of berserk ready to blow everything into the air.
“Of course.” Jack smiles. Hand still stretched, he winks. “But in the end, it’s word against word.”
Hyungwon chuckles, because he’s right, too. “Deal”, he shakes the hand.
“I hate that stupid swordsman. Stupid, motherfucker, ugly little thing”, Minhyuk complains, leaning in the front seats between Hyungwon and Changkyun. “You heard how he called me pillow princess?”
Changkyun smiles over his shoulder. “Aren’t you?” And as if Hyungwon asked, Changkyun turns to him and says, “He is.”
Minhyuk punches his arm, but lets out a laugh of his own. “What happens inside the bedroom stays inside the bedroom!”
“How unfair would it be, if we didn't die at work but in a car accident.” Hyungwon closes his eyes, resting his head against the leather of the seat, sighing. Hates when they start talking about that.
“Yeah! I’m driving!” Changkyun exclaims, throwing an annoyed look over his shoulder to Minhyuk.
“You shouldn’t go around saying what we did or didn’t between four walls, otherwise I’ll start telling everybody your fingering is simply fucking horrible.”
Hyungwon’s mood drops just a tiny bit more. He opens his eyes, looks at the younger man beside him, how his face turns three shades darker.
Changkyun's eyes don't meet his. “I’m working on it”, he says in a small voice, taking a turn. They’re almost at the headquarters.
“It’s funny how D always talks about you like that. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him calling your name", Hyungwon murmurs. Street name, that is. In the underworld, people never call themselves by their real names.
It’s a suave attempt to change the subject too. It’s easier to deal with Minhyuk’s anger than to think about how Changkyun and Minhyuk sometimes have fun with each other outside office hours.
Changkyun isn’t much younger, but in Hyungwon’s eyes, he’s just as young as the boy they killed last week.
And, well. He can’t say he isn’t jealous of him.
Minhyuk scoffs, crossing his arms. “He can’t get over the fact I fucked that big guy from that deal before him.”
“The jewelry one?” Changkyun asks.
Hyungwon closes his eyes again. Takes a deep breath, counts to ten. Feels his cheeks getting hotter, both in embarrassment and anger.
He was there when Kihyun designed the work for Minhyuk. Eyes glued to his crossed arms on his chest, and didn’t dare to look up until they were dismissed. Had to deal with Minhyuk’s excitement and had to listen to the minimal details of the crusade when he was back home.
Hyungwon thinks he would rather be shot in the knees.
“Yeah.” Minhyuk bats his eyelashes, a goofy smile on his lips. “Broad shoulders, thick lips. Big handsꟷ” He gets closer to whisper in Changkyun’s ear, “Huge cock.”
Hyungwon silently agrees when Changkyun complains loudly, saying he doesn’t need to know the size of Minhyuk’s men’s dicks.
“He’s not my man”, Minhyuk shrugs. “It was one-time thing, but earned us a lot of money.” That is true. They successfully ended the man’s life after he tried messing with The Clan just because of Minhyuk’s talents. “And you don’t need to be jealous, Kyun-ah. You have a decent cock, too.”
“You better not let Jooheon-hyung hear this”, Changkyun then says.
“Jooheonnie is too busy to worry about fallacies”, Minhyuk replies.
Hyungwon keeps his eyes closed, tightens his lids until he sees stars.
Minhyuk is gifted with knives and small weapons, and especially with hand-to-hand combat. Hyungwon was at the other side during practices more times than he can count, and the scars in his hands and arms are there to tell the story – but sometimes the things that come from Minhyuk’s mouth hurt more than being stabbed.
Changkyun mocks, “Since when have you spoken like that?”
Minhyuk laughs, husky. “Yongsun-noona said I need to improve my speech, so I can reach a higher clientele.”
“Do you tell her how you get the clientele?”
Minhyuk blushes. “Well, I told her I talk to them. But it’s not like she doesn’t know I’m gay. She dislikes seeing me covered in blood day every other day much more than she thinks it’s not normal, or whatever, for me to like men.” He shrugs. “We’ll never know how much Shownu-hyung tells her, anyway.”
Again, Minhyuk has never been much of a fan of discretion. He’s a killer, yet his life is an open book to the ones who know him.
“But—” Changkyun says again, and it has Minhyuk resting his chin on his seat. “Did you just notice you confessed you want Jooheon-hyung, right?”
Minhyuk groans. Hyungwon wishes to be shot, again.
“You’ll see. The moment you get your eye on someone, I’ll make your life a living hell. You just wait.” Minhyuk kicks the back of Changkyun’s seat, and the driver complains again. “I’ll be sure to bring them to every conversation, I’ll make you look like an idiot in front of them, exactly like you do to me.”
Changkyun snickers and turns to Hyungwon. He's used to have the killer silent, especially after a particularly dreadful night of work, but this time he barely talked.
“Hyungwon-hyung?” He asks, and Hyungwon opens his eyes at the call of his name.
The gun is safely tucked on his back, having no use, and his clothes are just as clean as they were when he left home.
“Hm?”
“Are you okay?” Changkyun repeats.
Hyungwon sees Minhyuk coming to his line of vision. His face, dolled up as it always is when they go out, is not as clear as Hyungwon would like to, but he thinks he can see the contrast of the eyeshadow, the redness of his lips, the way his earrings shine even in the darkness of the car.
“Hyungwon-ah, what’s wrong?” He asks, and how quiet he suddenly sounds makes Hyungwon want to scream.
But he shakes his head instead.
“Nothing.”
Since the Twins worked alone, Hyungwon was responsible for the killing while Minhyuk was the one with labia. He could fool people and make them eat from the palm of his hand with a bunch of right words spoken at the right times, with his charming smile and intense eyes, a body language seductive enough to make even the most celibate hesitate.
It was always like that. Minhyuk has an aura, a certain movement of his hips when he walks and an elegance in his manners that hypnotizes, voice often louder than the situation needs but that lowers until it becomes dangerously hoarse, tickling the ear and arousing feelings hidden in others.
Hyungwon himself can attest that. He was the first one who fell for Minhyuk, and was there to see many others do so.
He hated every single time Kihyun called them both and designed a mission like that for Minhyuk. He didn’t know which one was worse – having Minhyuk beside him on the streets, risking to have a bullet in his skull at any moment, or knowing that he would spend hours on end in the arms of whatever other women but especially men, entertaining them with the oldest work in the world, and in a way Hyungwon could only dare to dream.
And the difference between him and all the other men Minhyuk finds himself tangled in the sheets is simple – Minhyuk is always searching for something, yet Hyungwon has nothing to give him.
So when he isn't stabbing and fighting and dirtying his hands with the blood of others, Minhyuk wears fancy clothes, expensive makeup and smells as sweet as honey, the promise of unforgettable nights in the tip of his tongue.
The serpent of paradise.
It's only business, as he always says. He uses sex as a weapon (what, in the end of the day, is some sort of wrestling) to help The Clan, and he does that with honor and great skill.
In the worst nights, the lonely ones where the only thing Hyungwon’s lips touch are his cigarettes, he wishes to change bodies to one of Minhyuk’s victims just to taste him, to feel his warmth, witness the wonders he knew only Minhyuk is capable of providing.
Like even the henchmen of his enemies know, Minhyuk has a reputation. Good or bad, he doesn't care.
And besides Hyungwon, the only one who Minhyuk didn’t ever hit on was Jooheon.
This bothers Hyungwon a lot.
Jooheon was recruited by Hoseok a few years after the Twins officially entered the business. He was apparently famous in the underground fighting-scene, with fists powerful as guns and a suppressed rage that turned him into an animal.
But at that time, they didn’t know his name. They knew he went for Hunnit, the amount of fights he had won consecutively.
Hyungwon had heard of him during some meetings. Kihyun and Hoseok frequently went to rings hidden from the public eye, empty parking lots and vacant lots in remote places, where the smell of blood and sweat was more present than oxygen and the only rule was not to die.
And when Hoseok finally convinced the guy at least have a conversation with The Clan, Hyungwon almost couldn’t believe that the boy with skate sneakers and cap turned back, small eyes that almost closed and deep dimples that appeared when he smiled was the same that had broken more than fifteen arms when he was just twenty-two.
Jooheon is nice. Too nice, actually. Has his own demons to fight against, like every single person in the world (and especially in the business), but Hyungwon never saw him as a threat like he saw Kihyun, for example. Never felt insecure being around him.
Until Minhyuk saw something in Jooheon that he never saw in any other men.
Minhyuk had always been a skinship person – enjoyed hugs, arms around shoulders, even holding hands. Hyungwon is used to that because he has always been the victim, as so to speak, of those displays of affection, and was the only one in the receiving end of it, gladly, luckily – until Jooheon showed up.
And because Jooheon was also one for skinship, too, much more than Hyungwon was, it isn't uncommon to see Minhyuk and the fighter glued by the hip, eskimo kisses and heads resting on shoulders and legs over legs; words spoken to just the other to listen, secrets and laughter being shared even in the middle of missions, when they were supposed to be focused on the task.
Hyungwon doesn’t know if that’s good or bad, but seeing Minhyuk and Jooheon together always makes his assassin instincts better. It’s even easier to pull the trigger and blow someone’s brain out, easier to strangle or step on heads or breake fingers or take nails off with a plier when he sees a kiss being kissed in one of Jooheon’s dimples, or Minhyuk squirming in tickles that he doesn’t even feel, just to see Jooheon smile.
Hyungwon wanted to hate Jooheon, but he can’t, because Jooheon looks up at him in a different way than he looks up at Minhyuk, or Kihyun, Hoseok ꟷ even Hyunwoo.
He admires you with a shine in his eyes that’s amazing, Minhyuk once said while they shared takeout on the floor of their kitchen, bloodied clothes discarded on a trashcan. It makes me jealous, sometimes, he grinned, stealing a dumpling from Hyungwon’s plate.
Hyungwon remembers blushing – both because Minhyuk was only in his underwear, sitting beside him with his lips covered in sauce, messy hair and looking like a dream, both because he didn’t like it.
I don’t even talk to him, Hyungwon replied.
But it was the truth.
Hyungwon already noticed Jooheon was always asking for some opinion, always trying to talk to him, to hear his voice. At first, he suspected it was to be closer to Minhyuk, but he never talked about work with him, never even mentioned Minhyuk when talking with Hyungwon.
His relationships were always kept separated, Hyungwon noticed. Almost like adoration with him, something else with Minhyuk that Hyungwon didn’t want to pry, in fear he would end up hating the answer and hating his partner.
(How absurd, that was. Hyungwon tried to fool himself even though he knew he could never hate Minhyuk – never. He didn’t hate him when Minhyuk shot his leg in mistake, when they were nineteen, wouldn’t hate now, as he apparently had found his soulmate in a dimpled boy that wore clothes too baggy for him.)
And when Changkyun was introduced, Hyungwon saw an opportunity to put a little distance between him and Minhyuk ꟷ for the sake of business and his heart. It was becoming a weakness and Hyungwon was worried it could affect his performance on field if he kept being an eternal third-wheel for them.
Didn’t work. Changkyun found in Jooheon the older brother he never had, and they became inseparable. Changkyun only accepts skinship when it’s from Jooheon, and being Hyungwon’s direct subordinate, it meant he would be around all times, too.
And that's how things work.
“How was it?”
Hyungwon doesn’t jump because he’s a professional killer, but his heart still skips a beat, eyes widening for a fraction of a second after being disrupted in the middle of his usual scolding with his glass of whiskey glued to his lips hobby.
He turns his head and Yongsun is leaning on the counter, a dirty cloth over her shoulder. She isn’t wearing much makeup tonight, but she still looks fresh and good humored, a total opposite of him, after a night of work and the imminence of death.
“What?” He asks, blinking innocently.
Yongsun makes a face at him.
“Hyunwoo tells me things, you know.”
Hyungwon chuckles. Weird, to listen to his boss name being said in such a casual way. Outside working hours, inside the headquarters, Hyungwon doesn’t call anyone by their street name – besides the boss.
“Good. They proposed a truce”, he answers, taking a sip.
Yongsun widens her eyes, nods. “So it’s over?”
Hyungwon shrugs. “It ain’t over until it’s over.”
“This isn’t an answer”, Yongsun hits him with the cloth playfully.
“For now, it’s good”, Hyungwon says. Doesn’t want to discuss work with the boss’ wife; he doesn’t even know what he’s allowed to say, how much he’s allowed to tell. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
Yongsun clicks her tongue, has a look in her eyes that Hyungwon already recognizes as the something is wrong one.
“So if things went well, why are you making this face?”
Hyungwon innocently taps his cheek. “What face?”
“Like someone died?” Yongsun smiles, and puts more whiskey in his glass without him asking. “Something bothering you, besides work?”
He’s going to say it’s nothing when Minhyuk’s loud laugh resounds in the bar.
He looks over his shoulder to a table full of the others of the high echelon of The Clan, his partner humoring them, throwing eyes to Jooheon, who’s silently laughing at his antics.
“Your child over there”, Hyungwon says instead. It isn’t a lie. “He almost blew it.”
Yongsun rolls her eyes, straightens her posture. Her hair is half up half down, giving how many hours she’s probably working. Something catches her eye and Hyungwon looks over his shoulder again to see Hyunwoo at the table, waving at her and then at Hyungwon.
She blows a kiss to her husband, and Hyungwon merely raises his glass.
“You met Jack and D, right?” Yongsun asks. Hyungwon nods. “Big fish. Didn’t know it was such a big deal they were the ones who would seal it.”
“D killed Junmyeon-hyung”, Hyungwon explains.
Junmyeon, or Suho, was there when the Twins entered. Wasn’t like Hyunwoo, the hyung of hyungs – Hyungwon always felt like he was a real older brother, someone to ask for advice, to listen to stories. Junmyeon taught him almost everything he knew, and that’s why seeing his hand on a box messed with something deeper within Hyungwon than the death of a normal-comrade would.
“D?”
Hyungwon smiles against the glass. “The Scar.”
Yongsun blinks. “Oh? He’s the Scar?” Hyungwon nods. Thinks how shitty it must be, for people not to recognize you by your own street name but by a nickname others gave you. No wonder the little man is always so enraged. “And Hyunwoo still wanted to propose a truce?”
“He didn’t propose anything. Were them. He needed to come. Just like I needed to, too”, Hyungwon explains. With a sigh, he completes, “I killed the Rabbit.”
Yongsun freezes. “Wait. You—you killed the Rabbit?”
Hyungwon shrugs. Remembers big huge eyes widened in pure fear, the voice pleading, I don’t know, let me go. He was younger than Changkyun for sure.
And even being the first-lady of the business, Yongsun still sports an expression Hyungwon can’t never decipher, whenever someone talks about killing. Her face is carefully closed, neutral, but there is the almost-imperceptible twitch of her lip and the small deep breath she takes that shows she doesn't like the subject.
Maybe that's why Hyunwoo doesn’t go to combat as much as he used to; Hyungwon doesn’t know when his boss and his wife met, but guesses the timing must be the same. Like Jooheon, Hyunwoo was a huge figure in the underworld of fighting, fists that were compared to thunder and rage that frightened, imposed respect. There he found Kihyun, betting ridiculous amounts of money on who would hurt the most, a gun he didn’t know how to use hanging on his hip.
That’s how The Clan started. Hyunwoo and Kihyun always together ꟷ Hyungwon just doesn’t know how Hyunwoo ended up in the throne and Kihyun as his right-hand man.
But what Hyungwon knows is that Yongsun is aware of his reputation, aware that Eight is one of the best hitmen in the city. People talk about how he can do amazing things with all types of guns and spare not a second look before killing whoever needs to be killed; however, just like Minhyuk, Hyungwon says goodbye to Eight as soon as he walks through the bar door.
Without a gun handle, the black tie loosened and eyes suddenly tired, he’s only Chae Hyungwon, twenty-eight years old, whose favorite food is shrimp and favorite hobby is sleep.
“I know he was only in the business because Monster seemed to like him very much. A lot, even. Did you know that? Some say they had… an affair”, Yongsun whispers, and Hyungwon chuckles with the sudden worry in her voice. “He was twenty-four, twenty-five, wasn’t he? A kid, oh my God.”
“No one is a kid after they enter the business, noona”, Hyungwon tells her. He stopped being one when reached seventeen. “Rabbit knew that. He was being irresponsible, throwing parties, spending money, dragging attention. This was just a consequence of his and Monster’s irresponsibility.”
Yongsun stares at him until Hyungwon looks at her. She breaks the eye-contact first, staring back to the table with the high echelon.
“Stupid, isn't he?” She mumbles. “Falling in love with someone inside the business.”
Hyungwon tightens his jaw, studies her expression. There’s the twitch in her mouth again, and he feels his heart shrinking because even if she doesn't know it, they're both on this boat.
“It’s not the wisest decision, no.”
They stay in silence for a while. From the distance, over the mumbling of other people’s voices and their men, Hyungwon drinks his whiskey silently and tries not to reach Minhyuk’s laugh over every other person’s voice, tries not to think of his pretty face and how he smiled brightly early, before they went out for work, hair wet after a shower and flushed cheeks.
Being able to flirt shamelessly with someone, able to feel something other than anxiety and restlessness, is something Hyungwon would never let himself. He can’t, and he doesn’t want to, because it can be bad for the business.
Hyungwon is weak though; terribly so, because he can’t resist the urge and looks over his shoulder.
It’s both jealousy and envy, what he feels toward any other men that have the privilege of holding Minhyuk – even if he’s the last man they’ll hold.
Minhyuk changed places with someone and now seats beside Jooheon. His cheeks are red, probably because of the half-empty beer in front of him. They whisper among themselves and share secret smiles that make Minhyuk’s eyes twinkle like they’re the only ones at the bar, and Hyungwon feels his heart breaking a little bit more.
Oh, how he wishes he could hate Jooheon.
“What are you thinking now?” Yongsun asks, surprising him one more time.
He swirls the glass, watches the whiskey moving.
“Nothing.”
Yongsun’s eyebrows go up. “This nothing is really troubling you.”
Hyungwon is a professional killer, and killing is like poker. One single emotion that shines through, and he dies.
It isn’t lying if half of it is the truth.
“I’m worried about Minhyuk”, he sighs. Downs the whiskey and doesn’t see Yongsun’s surprised expression. “Kihyun has been sending him off a lot.”
Yongsun hums. “I noticed. Is there something going on, besides the Rabbit thing?”
Hyungwon shrugs. Again, doesn’t know how much he’s allowed to tell.
“They’ll be investigating some things.”
“And Minhyukkie is responsible for that?”
Hyungwon looks at the rest of ochre liquid inside his glass; it looks just as miserable as he feels.
“He’s good at extracting information from others.” And that’s no lie, either. There’s no man Minhyuk was sent off after that didn’t tell him everything they needed to know and even more.
Yongsun nods, but then snorts. Hyungwon looks at her and sees her staring at the table again.
“I think it’s nonsense, how Minhyukkie can do what he does yet have no courage to confess to a boy.”
Hyungwon wants to go home. Wants a shower, a smoke, and to collapse in his bed, so heavy people will think he is dead.
“Jooheon-ssi is the same age as me”, he limits on saying.
“You’re both boys”, Yongsun tells him.
“Do you also see me as seven years old, noona?” Hyungwon repeats Minhyuk’s question from the other night, trying to disguise his bad mood.
Yongsun clicks her tongue, doesn’t waste time in pinching his ear, making Hyungwon hiss. “Careful, brat. Don’t make me treat you like I treat your brother.”
Hyungwon chuckles, tries to bat her hand away but is smarter than that, so just tilts his head in a way that's less painful. Yongsun chortles and smooths his hair after her attack.
Minhyuk laughs and it’s loud again. Hyungwon turns in his direction almost like he’s a moth attracted to a flame, and it’s suddenly too late to disguise when he meets eyes with his brother.
Minhyuk grins, all gummy and teeth like always, and it makes Hyungwon’s stomach churn. His arms are circling Jooheon’s shoulders, who’s talking very seriously with Hoseok, like there isn’t a human attached to him.
Hyungwon doesn’t smile back.
“Do you really agree with me?” Yongsun asks.
Hyungwon looks at her, straightens his shoulders, sniffs.
“Sorry”, he half-smiles. “Agree with what?”
“That is stupidity, to fall for someone inside this business.”
Oh. It is, yes.
“Yeah. But who are we to say there is no reason in the things the heart makes?”
Yongsun seems surprised by the answer. She leans on the counter, takes hair out of her eyes, clearly tries to decipher him – but Hyungwon isn’t a professional in vain.
“Is Eight romantic, then?”
He shakes his head, finishes his whiskey.
“Eight, I don’t know. But Hyungwon – sometimes.”
He looks at Yongsun and wonders if she understands what he means.