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Baekhyun has always rather liked the sensation of blood dripping onto his face. Not his own, of course - but knowing that he's found the mistake, found the problem, and made whoever is responsible pay - it's a tangible reminder of the universe resetting itself, using his hands as its instrument.
He doesn't bother throwing the knife down; that would imply too much emotion. Instead he lets the switchblade drop insouciantly, turning on his heel to give his subordinates time to clean up the shivering, whimpering, piss-soaked traitor now bleeding all over his nice carpet. He wonders if it would be cliche to charge the bastard for its replacement - after all, it is his responsibility that he got himself caught trying to steal for the fucking Chinese. Maybe he'll send the bill to Wu Yi Fan. That would be clever.
As he leaves the back room of the club, he can feel the heavy thud of bass with every step; it makes the adrenaline kick up a notch, as if everyone should know he's coming by the weight of his stride, by the heft of just how big his dick is. This is home turf; Baekhyun owns this club and can't help but feel his oats a little, relishing that he caught a sneak thief rooting around like a mouse for cheese when the tong trusted this pathetic motherfucker to infiltrate and come out with secrets. Kim Minseok may be out there with his confidential information, but he's here with an empire and people who hang on his words.
A swaggering rap track comes over the speakers as Baekhyun comes over to the bar, curtly requesting a bottle of good beer and tipping the bartender well to leave him alone. He wants to be by himself for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the crowd staring surreptitiously at him. He still hasn't wiped the blood from his forehead, and the spray feels like he's been to the skin care counter at Lotte Plaza. It's nice to get back in the saddle, damn it. He doesn't need to be the baddest motherfucker on the block, but he does need to be able to protect his own interests. One suicidal cop and his fuck toy aren't going to take that from him.
He reaches for the beer, taking a long pull and feeling it mellow him out a little. He's a little hopped up; he saw Jongin earlier and the boy has good product; it might actually be more MDMA than heroin or speed this time. It's been a while, and, well, he wants to be good if he finds someone to take home and tie to the bed. It'll be nice to forget about work for a while if he can; he thinks way too damn much about two men whose deaths he would actively toast. Baekhyun does just that, holding his beer bottle up in a silent nod - to violent and painful death, you motherfuckers - before draining another quarter.
He people watches for a little while, trying to ignore the impatience for his visitor to either show up or call. This place brings all of Gangnam's gorgeous to dance and fuck and do drug deals in the bathroom; while he likes it because it brings him unholy fuckloads of money, he also likes it because he sees things, and hears things. Baekhyun has never outgrown the childhood impulse to steal and hoard; just now, he does it with information, instead of insignificant trinkets. Pays better. Besides, information doesn't have to occupy physical space. There's nothing to steal except someone's memory, and that's damned hard to accomplish. It's one of the reasons Kim Minseok needs to die. His memory needs to be erased.
As he contemplates ordering another beer, a pretty waitress wearing blue circle lenses appears at his side. "Sajangnim, I'm sorry to intrude, but there is an urgent telephone call that requires your attention." She bobs her head smartly, offering him one of the cordless house phones that his more trusted staff carry. Baekhyun thanks her with a polite smile, accepting the phone and bringing it to his ear as he watches her go. She didn't bat an eye at the blood on his face, he realizes, but it does remind him to wipe it off with his free hand.
When he says "Byun," he's greeted by a voice he knows, speaking with an accent, but with an integral grasp of Korean idiom. "Sajangnim, I'm sorry to bother you," Zhang Yixing breathes into the phone, "but I thought I'd inquire whether you could spare me a moment."
He can't help but grin. "Do you sass all your clients like that, Xing-ge?"
"Only when they're kinky and attractive." Yixing teases. "Baekhyun-ah, are you well? I'm sorry I haven't been around lately."
Flirt. "It's okay, as long as you make it up to me the next time you're in town, you busy bastard. Preferably with your mouth." Baekhyun finishes his beer, carefully wiping his mouth with a napkin, putting it into his pocket when he sees there's blood winding through its fibers. "Things have been crazy, but I'm all right. What about you?"
"I just finished a project, actually." Baekhyun smirks, because he knows what Yixing's "projects" are, but it immediately falls off his face as Yixing continues. "I wanted to talk to you about some rumors I've been hearing, though. I don't normally do this, but if what I'm hearing is accurate, you might need my services."
Baekhyun tries to calm himself down before answering, with limited effect. "Where were you last, Kuala Lumpur?" The anger is humming through him like a particularly heavy bass line. He can feel it.
"No, that was the one before. I was in Hong Kong." Yixing replies. "A couple of 49ers were discussing it at a bar while I spoke with my last client." Baekhyun knows that "49er" is code for a rank-and-file Triad member, and it makes him like what he's about to hear even less. "They couldn't stop talking about the guy who stole from you and the Yangcheon-gu tong."
His beer bottle hits the bar hard, threatening to splinter as he slams it down. "So I'm a fucking laughingstock as far away as Hong Kong?" The target of derision for nonentities?
Yixing knows he's not being shot, despite being the messenger, and keeps talking. "One of the reasons I thought I might offer my help, Baek-dì. I have contacts in China that you don't have, and if you catch wind of your quarry in Korea, you can let me know, since you have my personal number."
Baekhyun is about to rant more, but he stops, thinking. "That actually is a good idea, and I might take you up on it. Even if you are a freelancer, you're the best." Ideally, he would keep Yixing on retainer, but the man simply prefers to work alone, and no amount has been able to tempt him so far. It's borderline annoying.
Yixing chuckles. "Is enjoying working for myself so hard to understand? What kind of hit man has a boss?"
"You, if you want one." Baekhyun's half teasing, but only half. "I'd treat you right."
"You usually do, but not always." Yixing's tone is light.
Baekhyun smirks. "Yeah, 'cause sometimes you ask me to treat you mean." He says it quietly, but he still sees a woman nearby widen her eyes until they almost look Western. It's hard not to laugh.
"You love it."
No shame, no denial, no nothing. He has to appreciate that Yixing makes no bones about what gets him off. "I might."
"Try being honest with yourself once in your life." Yixing sounds arch now, amused. "At any rate. Would you like to maybe discuss this potential contract sometime soon?"
"Honest is for lunatics. And yes, please. When can you be in Seoul? Last place the fucker was seen was in a love hotel in Yeoksam-dong."
"Funny thing." Yixing smirks - he can hear it. "I caught up with my target in Dalian. Like I said, I just finished a project."
Baekhyun has to laugh. "You childish bastard." Yixing loves surprises. Baekhyun hates them, but he can make exceptions.
"I'm at the Intercontinental COEX." The invitation in his voice doesn't seem businesslike, and Baekhyun can feel a new kind of adrenaline start to hit him. "Besides. I owe you for being gone so long."
"You do." Baekhyun looks around the club, figuring he should make sure all is well with his little pest in the back room before heading over. "Give me twenty minutes."
"All right. Room 3002."
Baekhyun hangs up, tosses a bill on the bar to cover the beer, and starts to walk with a motherfucking purpose.
The squirrel in the back room eventually expires from loss of blood, and Baekhyun coordinates with his trusted underling about how to get rid of him before leaving the club, hopping a taxicab down to Samseong-dong and the hotel. It's just far enough from Apgujeong where he doesn't want to walk, and besides, he doesn't want to keep Yixing waiting. He hasn't seen the man in at least four months, and frankly, it bugs the fuck out of him. It's equally infuriating that Yixing has pulled him in so hard that he can't just let the man drop and disappear. Baekhyun does not do the wife-waiting-at-home role very well at all.
The lobby is pleasantly darkened, with modern grey couches nestled against mahogany pillars, and Baekhyun is relieved not to be recognized as he strides over to the elevators. He notices a stubborn smear of blood on his cream-colored cuff, perilously close to his Phoenix cuff links, as the car opens and he presses the button for the top floor. There isn't much to do about it right now, so he simply holds his hands clasped in front of him as the car climbs upward, hoping the other people in the elevator haven't noticed.
The elevator deposits him in an immaculate hallway, with one door on each side and a nice view of the city out plate-glass windows. Baekhyun is just grateful he doesn't look as fucking impatient as he's feeling. He walks up to the door marked 3002 and knocks - no light taps or polite coughs. He's been promised a good time, damn it.
The door opens, and Baekhyun is instantly attacked. Yixing manages to kick the door closed without letting Baekhyun go as they kiss almost angrily. Baekhyun is two inches shorter, but Yixing leans, tipping his chin upward and bending his back. Baekhyun kicks his Ferragamos off, clumsily separating Yixing's jacket buttons from their holes while trying to stay connected at the mouth. He feels his own jacket and shirt being opened and removed with slightly more finesse, but only a little. He can't help but be absurdly pleased that Yixing missed him this much.
Eventually they have to come up for air, and Baekhyun laughs, clasping Yixing's face between both of his palms. "Fuck me, I missed you." He lightly slaps one cheek, just stupid and giddy and horny. He's honestly not sure if this is a good trip, or if it's just all Yixing.
Yixing laughs, closing his eyes, hands still working through unbuttoning Baekhyun's linen shirt. "You just get off on power." He starts to lick and nibble his way down Baekhyun's neck.
It's really distracting. "As long as we're saying obvious things, you - fuck - get off on being tied down and choked."
"Guilty." Yixing never sounds embarrassed, which Baekhyun respects, but then Yixing gnaws just right on the rope of muscle visible in Baekhyun's neck, and it makes him stop thinking for a while. He just acts, pushing Yixing backward, across the open space toward the large bed, which thankfully has posts. It's better to tie someone up the classic style; the new kits and straps and shit like that just get in Baekhyun's way. Besides, the last time he tried it with a girl, she bitched at him for leaving nylon burns on her wrists.
No, silk is preferable. Baekhyun smirks when he sees Yixing's finely made ties, laid out on the top of the dresser, as if ready for the next few days. He knows better. Yixing smiles, working on removing his belt as Baekhyun gets his own trousers off. The tie is still nice, but beginning to fray; it's a tie that can easily be explained as no longer being wearable for someone so fastidious as Yixing, but it should still hold for their purposes. He works harder to separate Yixing from his shirt, shrugging out of his own and enjoying Yixing's eyebrows shooting upward. "You've been working out."
"Nah. I just live on coffee and fuck a lot." Baekhyun steps closer, grabbing at Yixing's arm, pulling him in for another kiss as he reaches to unzip the irritating trousers still in his way. He's told Yixing that they aren't exclusive - he's gone too fucking often for Baekhyun's taste, or at least for the taste of Baekhyun's libido - but Yixing seems to know that Baekhyun never stops enjoying his trips to town. That ought to be obvious from the insistent way they're two-stepping backward toward the bed and the impatient way he's reaching into Yixing's pants.
Yixing makes a contented noise low in his throat as Baekhyun helps pull his trousers and underwear off, taking the opportunity to roughly grab and once he's kicked them away, Baekhyun simply pushes him backward onto the bed and climbs on after him, greedily grabbing at the ties on the dresser and the bottle of lube before settling on top of Yixing and starting to tie a wrist. He sets the lube down next to them, and lets his hips move while he's stretching to tie his lover's wrist, grinding lazily against Yixing's erection, drawing out a sharp curse in Mandarin that gets Baekhyun just a little more aroused. When he's finished tying one wrist, he does the other, deliberately stretching up so his dick brushes against Yixing's again. His lover laughs breathlessly, arching upward into Baekhyun, trying to plant his feet on the mattress for purchase. "You're evil," he says in Mandarin.
"I've been told that before." Baekhyun shuts up, enjoying Yixing's hips moving as he gets comfortable. He's been told he has a natural rhythm for this kind of thing, and it's been way too long since he's been able to properly take his time with a lover or even just a casual fuck. He knows what Yixing likes, but getting to the main event right away would be so much less fun.
So, he starts slow, with the disordered, sloppy, enthusiastic kisses and sucks he knows his lover appreciates, starting at the collarbone and working his way down. Yixing sighs, trying to angle his body into a more salubrious slant, but Baekhyun keeps moving, rendering all the adjustments wasted. He snipes where he can: a quick kiss under the collarbone, working his tongue along the slopes of defined muscle, a random sharp bite along Yixing's sternum, where a bruise will be noticed if his lover's shirt is low enough. But Yixing is still too languid, and far too accepting of his lot, even if his biting triggered a breathy Mandarin curse. The softly expelled "fffuck" under his breath goes straight to Baekhyun's groin, and he lets a rare groan escape, feeling rather than seeing Yixing's cock twitch as it settles where it usually does when they do this, edging slightly up into the area south of one pronounced hip bone.
He keeps using his mouth, feeling Yixing starting to strain at the ties, feet growing impatient and scrabbling for grip on the smooth linens of the bed. Baekhyun deliberately avoids the areas that he knows Yixing likes best - besides the obvious one, he stays away from the jagged edge of his lover's left hip, from the area just below the navel, from his outstretched arms, and it starts to breed results. Yixing tries to stay calm, but eventually Baekhyun starts to hear the breathing pattern he knows signifies genuine frustration. A restless Zhang Yixing is a thing of motherfucking beauty; Baekhyun splays his hands across Yixing's strong thighs as he kisses downward again, but by now his lover is growling, and that just makes Baekhyun push harder. A couple more well-placed bites and Yixing is cursing a little louder. Cursing him. Baekhyun's Mandarin is shit, but he gets the gist. If he wasn't already hard, that would get him there.
He decides, since he's in the mood, that he'll do Yixing a favor, and given that Yixing always comes prepared (hee, comes), it should work. Baekhyun shifts his body, getting up on his knees and moving downward. He does not put his mouth on Yixing's dick, rather, giving it a couple of rough strokes as he moves by.
Yixing seems to understand what he's doing, because he shifts his legs and uses his abdomen to incline his body a little more steeply. Baekhyun adjusts, pulling Yixing's legs over his shoulders. He doesn't want to cause pain, just a little mindfuckery - so he takes it slow, kissing and biting the soft flesh of his lover's thighs and ass a little before letting his tongue dive in past the tight ring of muscles around Yixing's hole. Damn if he doesn't get an almost feminine moan out of Yixing, and Baekhyun smirks in mid tonguefuck, slapping the nearest ass cheek hard enough to sting. His lover whimpers again, in a slightly lower register, pushing as much as he could against Baekhyun, which in turn makes Baekhyun pull back a little. Hey, Yixing had called him evil earlier. It still seems to hold, with Yixing all but grinding down onto his face. "Baekhyun - !"
With most other people, Baekhyun would push harder, aiming to make them come just by using his tongue, because talk about a fucking power trip, and because it gets him off to get other people off in the ways he wants to. It's only Yixing that gets him to give a damn; he's had too many fuck toys and insignificant obstacles cross his path to care too much about anything but blowing off steam. Especially lately. So he dives deeper, holding Yixing's ass where he needs it to be, but he knows what to wait for, knows what to sense with long fingers and good hearing. He just follows the cues that are coming off Yixing, along with all the Chinese profanity; when there's that arch of the hips, when there's that low-pitched whine of pleasure, that's when he needs to back off. He brushes Yixing's prostate a few times, but it's not until the third or fourth pass that he hears that noise, and feels Yixing grip the posts his wrists are tied to, wordlessly begging, starting to strain. So, Baekhyun stops, instead reaching for the lube, giving Yixing's dick another brief, pointed fisting on his way by.
He's already stretched his lover a little, but he's getting impatient, and his own erection is starting to ache; he's starting to get that dizzy feeling that tends to be a volatile fucking mix of arousal plus movement plus too much blood far, far away from the brain. Baekhyun doesn't think of much before slipping one finger into Yixing, then another in rapid succession. A third is in within a minute; Yixing isn't complaining and Baekhyun is getting antsy to feel somebody, anyone warm and willing, grinding around his dick. He'll pay Yixing back in spades; he doesn't like owing people, and he knows exactly what Yixing likes besides him.
Thank God Yixing's bendy and he's got strong arms. Baekhyun settles up against Yixing's upturned ass, smiling as he feels his eyes narrow in a way that must look malicious. Yixing's eyes are glassy and his mouth is open, his lips bitten all to hell and God, it's fucking hot. Baekhyun uses a bit more lube on himself, then pushes inside Yixing, pushing as much as possible, hearing the yowl and feeling the cant of hips against his own. Eventually he bottoms out and starts a rhythm, but that's only half of this.
He looks up at Yixing's wrecked face, down his strong jaw, to his long, lithe neck, running his hands over skin and bone to shoulder. This is what his lover begs for, and he'll be nice. Baekhyun keeps fucking into Yixing, but slowly - buildup is the name of the game, and as such, he doesn't choke his lover with one hand or press a thumb to the larynx or anything else that might work for the average layman. He looks down at his lover, just to make sure all is as it should be, and slowly wraps both hands around Yixing's slender throat. He doesn't break eye contact. Yixing stares up at him, eyes warm, trying to hold the eye contact as long as possible before his blown-out eyes flutter closed and his body starts to react.
Normally this isn't Baekhyun's thing. He does this for a living, but people are his tools, not his bare hands. The act of choking someone, of knowing that the flicker in their eyes can explode like an antique flash bulb if he chooses to move his hands one millimeter to the left, is a different kind of power than he wields every day. And he chalks it up to Yixing's presence that he's never, not once, snapped and pressed just a little too far. It would be so easy.
For now, he focuses on exerting just enough pressure to feel it; not squeezing his hands like he could, or pressing up on the larynx like it would be so simple to do. No, he does just enough to make Yixing's mouth fall open, eyes widening as he arches hard back into Baekhyun. That wrings a sharp "Fuck!" out of Baekhyun, and for half a second, he does forget himself, leaning forward, so more of his weight falls squarely on Yixing's throat. It's only half a second, but he swiftly readjusts, not wanting to be tempted again, letting his abdomen shoulder much of the load instead of his hands.
He watches his lover closely as he feels his own body start to speed up without his input, watching for any signs of actual discomfort like a dog waiting for table scraps. Baekhyun licks his lips, loving it when Yixing thrusts up to meet him, loving it more when he finally reaches the tipping point and uses their agreed-upon signal - an abrupt scratch across Baekhyun's wrist - to let up. It's still strong, but trailing off at the end, and the part of Baekhyun's brain that isn't focused exclusively on orgasm lets go as if he's been shocked, shaking the offended body part slightly. Without the mild pain, he knows, he could easily lose himself. Could easily fuck up catastrophically and deprive himself of a valuable resource.
Yixing sucks in air like a drunk with a cocktail, and the endorphins do their job. He comes with a loud, inchoate moan, painting his stomach and hip, but has enough presence of mind to tightly clench around Baekhyun, trying to finish him off, which Baekhyun fucking appreciates very much. He slows down slightly, orgasm near, eyes stuck on the swollen redness of Yixing's mouth, and is finally about to come a few minutes later when Yixing whispers in Korean, "Here."
Baekhyun understands, but the need is too much, the impatience is making him reckless. He pulls out as fast as possible, ignoring Yixing's hiss of pain, urgently pumping his own dick until he's coming on Yixing's chest with a harshness that makes his back muscles ache, needy spasms slowing down until he's breathing more evenly and his dick is going soft. He pulls at the knot holding Yixing's right wrist to the post, then falls with a muted thump into the mattress.
Yixing manages to free his other wrist, shifting his abused body gingerly to pull at the tie. Baekhyun feels the kiss on his forehead, and hears the repeated throat clearing before Yixing gets out of bed, probably headed for the shower. As he opens his eyes, he sees his lover's knees actually wobble, and he can't help but laugh a little. "Gēge, do you need help getting to the bath?"
Yixing manages a laugh in return, though Baekhyun can hear the strain; it sounds like the man screamed too loud at a concert. "I didn't think so, but maybe I do."
Baekhyun first makes sure he can even stand himself, and when his legs seem to work right, he walks over to let Yixing lean on him. Call it a courtesy. They make it into the bathroom, and Baekhyun goes to take a leak while Yixing starts the shower running, fast and hot. After he flushes the toilet, he walks back out to pick up his discarded clothes, then thinks better of it. He leaves them in a pile on the armchair, walking back into the bathroom. Yixing is clearing his throat and coughing, which bodes well for all being well. "So," Baekhyun asks over the hum of the shower. "Did you just come here to see me?"
"Well. I thought you might possibly hire me." Yixing's voice is quieter than normal, but otherwise sounds okay. "So technically, the answer is yes. It's like I told you before, Baek-dì; I have contacts you might not."
"What about the kid? The initiate he ran off with?" Yixing knows the rumors; he'll know exactly who Baekhyun is talking about.
"What about him?" Yixing turns the water off, reaching one bruised hand over the top of the shower stall to reach for a towel.
"Is this not a 2-for-1 deal?" Baekhyun raises an eyebrow.
"What's the kid done?" Yixing starts toweling off. "Besides have incredibly bad taste in boyfriends?"
"Well, he almost killed one of my guys." Baekhyun tries to keep his chill; Yixing doesn't know about his internal business. At least he hopes to God not. "And, frankly, he probably convinced Minseok to desert. That makes me getting fucked without lube at least partially his fault." He grunts. "Have you seen this guy? Looks like a kid. Big Bambi eyes. All vulnerable and shit. People who look like that don't have the stomach for our business. I don't even know how he got mixed up with the Yangcheon-gu gang anyway." This is the hard part. "He also stole something from me. At least I think it was him; I don't know how Minseok would know about it."
"What was it?"
"A knife." Baekhyun stands up, needing to pace, even naked. "A beautiful little Japanese switchblade with a red bone handle. It has a secret compartment in the handle, and I don't know whether that asshole has found it or not." He shakes his head, but manages to choke back the rest of his worries.
"What's in it?"
"That, Xing-ah, is none of your damn business." Baekhyun does have his limits, and he tries not to sound angry or defensive in exercising them. "But if the wrong people got it, I'd be really fucked. Put it that way."
One of the things he loves about Yixing is that the man understands the concept of need-to-know. Instead of pushing, Yixing simply nods, and Baekhyun knows he figures he'll learn when he needs to. Instead, Yixing goes back to his main point. "Do you know the kid stole from you? Seems like Minseok would have more opportunity."
"True. I suppose it could be either. But he's still with that little turd. And he promised he could get information to me, and never delivered." Baekhyun grits his teeth. "Like, Minseok told me that this kid wanted to run from the tong, and would bring information I could use, as an apology for taking up so much of Minseok's time. For distracting him, I guess; not like they probably haven't fucked in every bed in Seoul by now."
"Ah." Yixing shrugs a shoulder, clearing his throat again. "So, this guy can't finish."
Baekhyun's eyebrow shoots up again. "Huh?"
"He can't finish anything. You said he almost killed your man. He almost brought you tong information. Why bother with him when it seems like his boyfriend is the finisher in that relationship?" Yixing looks at Baekhyun as he steps out of the shower. "If you offer this to me, I will probably focus just on the cop. It makes more logical sense - that type is lost without a strong guiding figure. Your man is alive. There's no blood debt here."
Baekhyun gets up, taking his lover's hand. He frankly doesn't want to deal with this right now. "I do want to offer it to you - maybe we can draw papers up in the morning? But I just don't know, Yixing. The little guy could surprise me. I fucking hate surprises." And, if he's honest with himself, he admits inwardly, he just hates it that people who have put one over on him are still walking around. He hates that people have red stamped files in their memory cabinets, designed to bring him down to ruin. The best way to prevent it is not to steal the key, but to melt the entire filing system.
He sighs. "And yeah, Sehunnie is alive, but still. Part of me wants to let it go. But part of me will burn this fucking city to the ground to find those two fuckers." On some level, he knows it's a weakness. It's single-minded. And yet - it eats at him, sticks in his throat like leftover cum. "If they get away with it ... "
He leaves it unsaid, but Yixing seems to understand it. "Consider it." His lover says, bringing the hand up to kiss it gently.
Baekhyun lets his hand be kissed, but the question still forces itself out. "Is this because the guy's Chinese?"
Yixing's black eyes whip up to meet Baekhyun's, and immediately Baekhyun looks away. "I'm sorry."
Yixing doesn't answer his apology, letting out a raggedy breath and simply saying, "It's more practical to focus on the mother bear than to shoot each one of her cubs."
Baekhyun nods, daring to look up. "I'm still sorry." He doesn't say it often, but he will when it's merited. He knows Yixing better than that, or at least he hopes he does.
It does take a minute or two, but Yixing's affect smooths out, and the normal, faintly bemused look on his face reappears. "Thank you for apologizing to your gēge," he says, faint smile peeking out of the corners of his mouth. "Will you stay the night?"
"Yeah." He has no obligations. Or if he does, he doesn't care. Yixing is more important.
***
Years of working the crime desk have fucked his circadian rhythms to hell and back, so Park Chanyeol just takes catnaps when he can - three or four hours at a time, normally. At least he uses the waking hours pretty well, or at least he thinks so; he cleans, works, researches for that novel he's had on the drawing board for years, goes out with friends, chases some pussy. Some dick if he's in the mood. He hasn't dated since Junmyeon; he doesn't have time.
Today, the clock says 7:18 when he's woken by a ringing phone. Given that he only got to sleep around 6am, it's just a little annoying. And yet something makes him pick up the phone. "Park."
The voice on the other end speaks quietly, hurried, with a noticeable Chinese accent, but the Korean is good. "Park-ssi. It's Zhang. I don't have much time."
Chanyeol blinks. Zhang Yixing is a man he knows as a corporate VP from Hong Kong, in something to do with steel. He has given Chanyeol many, many tips over the past five years or so, and almost all of them have been legitimate. "What's up?"
"You should know. Do you know the case of Kim Minseok?"
"Yes." That wakes him up in a goddamn hurry; Kim Minseok is a fugitive cop on the run from the SMPA and the two biggest gangs in Seoul, if the rumors are true. It's like a screenplay.
"Byun Baekhyun is trying to get to him and the hostage before the Triads do. He wants what was stolen from him, and he can't decide if he wants vengeance for an assault on one of his men. But he's also looking for a contract killer. And he may have one." The voice speaks quickly and quietly. "Frankly, I don't care about the cop or the boy - people die, and contract killers are at least usually clean in their operations - but I have reason to believe a full-fledged gang war will break out if Yangcheon-gu gets to them before he does. The Triads just want the boy alive, and the cop on a platter. Neither, preferably, in the custody of Byun Baekhyun."
"How do you know?" Chanyeol has to ask, even if he isn't sure he'll get an answer. He grabs frantically for a notebook and pen across his nightstand, knocking over the water bottle he left there the night before. "Fuck! Um. Sorry."
Zhang doesn't seem to notice. "I have sources I trust implicitly who do business with the tong. I'm sorry, you'll need to take this or leave it. You can tell the police about the assault case, and you can warn about a genuine gang war going on in this city. It may get Kim to turn himself in."
"Maybe." Chanyeol somehow doubts it, but he can understand the optimism. "Serious shit."
"I need to go."
The phone disconnects in Chanyeol's ear, and he's left contemplating his options.
Frankly, none of them are good.
He doesn't doubt Byun is serious - or, for that matter, that Zhang is serious - about the threat to start a full-on war. Byun's boys and the Yangcheon-gu tong hate each other, and while he isn't privy to the specific reasons, he can guess. And as for Byun's guy, he might not matter in the grand scheme, or he might matter enough for Byun to try and kill his attacker. But he's got other reasons for wondering whether or not to print this.
Chanyeol sighs, getting out of bed to grab pants. He's got one other phone call to make, and it's not going to be pretty. He debates waiting, but decides that time might be of the essence.
He dials the number of a cell phone that he hopes still works. He hasn't tested in in almost two months - he's gotten calls since, but never from that exact number.
To his relief, a voice does pick up. "Park-Park?"
"Don't fucking call me that, Minseok." Now is not the time. Chanyeol has known Kim Minseok since he was a cub reporter making latte runs for the lifers on the desk. Minseok was the first cop to ever treat him like a newspaperman, and ever since they've been friends. It was Chanyeol that Minseok called when he'd found the evidence, and Chanyeol who first heard about Minseok falling in love. Minseok has called him Park-Park for almost that whole time. He got Jongin to start doing it, too.
"What's going on?" Minseok gets to the point, as he should; Chanyeol still remembers his clear instructions to only telephone this number if something very, very dangerous is about to go down.
"Byun Baekhyun is what's going on." Chanyeol pulls no punches. "I just got a tip that says he's basically preparing for war if you don't come in, or if the Triads find you first. And, frankly, that he's looking for someone to put a hit on you. He also might want to make an example of the guy who blinded his employee."
There's a long pause after he speaks, and for a second Chanyeol wonders if he's been hung up on, but then he hears the sound quality shift of himself being put on speaker. "Luhan needs to hear this." Minseok says.
"Hear what?"
The other man sounds younger than he is, Chanyeol knows, but his Korean is good. He decides to speak the same way he would to a native, and slow down if need be. He simply says, "If you two don't come in, and produce what you've been hiding, Byun is basically going to start a war with the Triads. And, he's looking for someone to put a contract out on Minseok."
There's another pause, but it's Luhan who speaks first. "But not me."
"No." Chanyeol says. "Not according to my source." He grimaces. "But, he did talk about getting the guy who got his employee. Apparently he hasn't decided whether he's going to bother killing him or not."
"I see. So he could decide arbitrarily, either way."
He's almost cut off by Minseok. "Lu, no."
Luhan ignores him. "Park-ssi, what does Byun-ssi want exactly? Does he just want blood?"
Chanyeol tries to remember exact words. "My source said that he's trying to get to you before the Triads do, but he's looking for a killer."
"So there is a chance that if he gets what he wants, he'll leave us be." Luhan sounds calm, almost too calm. Chanyeol doesn't know the man, but he knows the tone when someone has resigned themselves to their sentence, or their life after becoming a victim. He knows when someone is surrendering.
He hears Minseok louder now. "Luhan. No." He isn't surrendering; Chanyeol can tell there's fear in his tone, but also rage.
"Minseok. I'm not going to go to Byun Baekhyun." Luhan's tone is still even. Chanyeol can hear soft tapping on the desk or dresser next to the phone. "I'm going to go to Sehun and tell the truth. He may wind up an ally."
Chanyeol blinks. "To ... wait, to the guy you messed up? Doesn't he know it already?" Something's crawling at the back of his mind, but he can't pin it down.
"Apparently not." There is no feeling in Luhan's voice, and Chanyeol senses the gooseflesh crawling up his neck like an ice cube. It does not take a genius to understand how deeply this has eaten away at Luhan. "Apparently there was brain damage as well as blindness."
"Jesus." Chanyeol can't help himself.
It slips out, and Minseok immediately snaps, "Shut up, Park-Park. It was self-defense. Luhan, are you insane? Your Sehun has a boyfriend. Both of them are Byun's. They're made. They won't care that you're sorry."
"Wait! He might." Chanyeol recalls with a flash - Junmyeon's boyfriend is named Sehun. "Junmyeon isn't a monster, Minseok. He might listen. It depends how you approach him." He remembers Junmyeon, and he remembers Spike - but he also remembers enthusiastic fucking and kisses and talks that lasted for hours before one or both of them passed out on the couch.
"Yes." Luhan nods. "It's why I want to give him or Sehun the switchblade. A peace offering."
"Switchblade?" Chanyeol hasn't heard about that.
Minseok ignores him. "Then we have nothing on that son of a bitch. Then he gets to go on his merry fucking way hurting people and getting fat off people's misery."
"I'm fine with that if it keeps us alive!" Luhan's voice is rising.
This is private. He doesn't quite understand what Minseok is on about - did they want to blackmail Byun somehow? Byun Baekhyun doesn't have secrets of that kind. Chanyeol can't help but feel embarrassed; he feels like he's hearing the breakdown of a marriage. He tries to speak, to say goodbye, but can't get a word in edgewise. He can practically see Minseok's face, contorted in something very near terror, and while he's never seen Luhan, he knows the tone of a cornered rat.
He has to say it. "It still might go bad, you know. Minseok's right. Junmyeon ... he looks out for the people he cares about. And if it gets back to Byun, or you get ratted out, Byun will kill you."
"So will Yifan-ge, if he gets to us first." Luhan replies. "Because someone will get to us. And I have a better chance of making it out alive from seeing Sehun than Minseok does doing anything."
"No, damn it, you don't have a better chance!" Minseok sounds frustrated, exhausted, even near tears. "Lu. Please. He will kill you. I know that type." Chanyeol hears a shaky breath. "Please." Then in Mandarin, deathly quietly, as if exhaled with a last breath. "You can't leave me. I love you."
"I'm not." Luhan sets the phone down, Chanyeol can tell, hearing the thunk in his ears even as he grips the handset closer. "I'll come back - I'm going to tell him everything. Park-ssi says he can be reasonable."
"He can be." Chanyeol remembers. Junmyeon loves this kid Sehun.
"Besides." Luhan laughs, a chilling sound that sends the hairs on the back of Chanyeol's arms climbing upward. "I'm far more scared of the Triads than I am of him. They don't give more chances. Their offers aren't conditional. If they find us, they'll kill us." Chanyeol can no longer hear Luhan's voice as clearly, and yet the fear is far more obvious from a distance. He can hear the faint wobble in his crisp Korean, like a scratch on a painting's frame viewed from far away. The man is scared. But so is Minseok. It eats at Chanyeol's heart, hearing how lost Minseok sounds. He's known about Luhan, that Minseok had fallen in love with the man with all the finesse of a runaway truck. But seeing it up close - well, hearing it - at its possible swan song - is excruciating.
"You are making a mistake." Minseok sounds like he's panicking now, begging, breathing hard. "Lu Han, please, don't go to Sehun; Byun's too close. We'll find a way around it. Please. We can't do this."
There's a long pause in the conversation again, and all Chanyeol hears is Minseok quietly sobbing. Then he hears the reply, or at least he thinks he does, barely murmured audibly, probably directly in Minseok's ear, or against his mouth. "We can't, but I can."
He hears a door close. And he hears a man begin to quietly cry.