Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Now

It was common knowledge. 

Really, it was the most obvious, simple thing in the universe. It was so fucking crystal clear, you could mistake it for glass. 

And yet… somehow, people always seemed to ignore it. Seemed to think it just a suggestion, rather than a fact of life that should be followed to the letter. 

It was the most basic, common knowledge around the entirety of Seoul: You did not threaten Park Seonghwa’s husband. 

Well, he wasn’t really a husband. They weren’t married (yet) but the technicalities of it all took too long to explain, so: husband. 

Every gang and alley rate knew this. 

But people still seemed to have a hard time grasping it. Sometimes, an example needed to be made, as a reminder. 

Not everyone knew who his husband was or where to find him, but everyone knew he existed.

And they knew the consequences of attempting to touch him. 

Seonghwa made sure they knew after the first time someone attempted to harm him. 

Park Seonghwa’s husband was a pressure point you didn’t want to threaten. 

Because it was guaranteed that whatever satisfaction you got from that pressure point wasn’t going to be worth the aftermath you’d subject yourself to. 

And yet, somehow… even after so many years since they met, Hongjoong was still waking up in the middle of the night to the quiet beeping of the perimeter alarm and the sound of glass breaking. 

Hongjoong blinked awake, staring at the high vaulted ceiling for a moment. 

He took note of the other half of the bed that was empty. 

Seonghwa was working late then… but he would see the perimeter alert and come home soon. Hongjoong glanced at the alarm clock on his side table. 

1:32 A.M. 

Seonghwa would be here by 1:40. The clock starts. 

Glass crunched out in the living room, and Hongjoong sat up just in time for the door of the bedroom to burst open. 

Hongjoong stared at the man in the doorway. There was only one (so whatever gang he crawled from was clearly a pretty dull crayon in the box of life) with a gun trained on Hongjoong. 

“Evening, sir,” the man said in mock formality. “You’re going to have to come with me.” 

There was a beat of silence before Hongjoong sighed, throwing his covers back and sliding out of the bed. He saw the man tighten his grip on the gun. 

Hongjoong barely spared the man a glance as he padded over to the chair by his desk where his robe laid. He picked it up, slipping it on and turning to the man with a bored expression. 

“My husband is still at work,” he monotoned, typing the sash around his waist tightly. “If you have an issue with him, you can wait a few minutes. He’ll be here.” 

The man shifted nervously but didn’t lower the weapon. “Which is why we’ll be long gone before he gets here. Now, come quietly and I’ll leave your pretty head where it is.”

Hongjoong chuckled, flicked his hair that had begun to grow longer at the back. 

Seonghwa liked it. 

“Do you really think I’m pretty?” he teased, sitting down languidly in the desk chair. “Seonghwa always says he fell for my personality, not my looks- but honestly, give me some credit, am I right?” he chuckled, pushing his lips out. 

The man’s eyes narrowed, gun wavering in confusion and suspicion at the conversation. 

“I mean, I look great for having just been woken up with a gun in my face, don’t I?” Hongjoong spread his arms as if to give him a better look, his hand falling near the top desk drawer. 

The man cocked his gun, the sound making his fingers twitch. “Stop talking,” he spat. “Now, stand up and come quietly. We don’t want to inconvenience your husband with a corpse, do we?” 

Hongjoong playful smile fell into a cold stare. 

The hand near the desk drawer suddenly grasped the handle and yanked it open, diving in with practiced ease and closing around the handle of the gun in there. 

He was standing and aiming between the man’s eyes before the other could even wonder what he was doing. 

The man’s eyes widened, knuckles white on his gun that suddenly wavered before righting itself after his shock. 

“You really thought it would be that easy?” Hongjoong scoffed emotionlessly, wondering how many minutes it had been. Seonghwa would be here within seconds, wouldn’t he? “That the leader of the largest gang in Seoul would just leave his husband defenseless ?” He chuckled. “You think I would be stupid enough to live with a man like that without a few tricks up my sleeves?”

The temperature in the penthouse seemed to drop ten degrees as Hongjoong glared stiffly. 

The man didn’t lower his gun, and the confusion in his expression turned amused. “Do you even know how to use that thing, sweetheart?” he taunted, taking a slow half-step forward. 

Hongjoong cocked it, playfulness dying to a stony glare, making the man freeze. “Want to find out?” he demanded coldly. “Wanna make a bet? I bet I can pull my trigger before you can pull yours. Wanna play?”

The man considered it carefully, clearly glancing between him and the gun. 

Come on, Seonghwa . 

The man reaffirmed his grip on his weapon, lips tugging in a smug grin. “You’re bluffing.” 

Hongjoong pulled the trigger, and the man suddenly cried out, gun flying away as he clutched at his hand that was bleeding. Hongjoong stood steadfast, not wavering even as his heart slowly climbed into his throat. 

“That was a warning shot,” he warned evenly.  

The man glared murderously at him, gritting his teeth against the pain in his hand with a dangerous growl in his throat. Hongjoong’s hair stood on end, knuckles white on the gun. 

The man roared in rage, suddenly sprinting forward and reaching at his side, pulling a knife from somewhere- rapidly closing the short distance between them.

He was suddenly right in front of Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong screamed, flinched away, and pulled the trigger. 

He heard the bullet hit something warm and wet, and suddenly there was a body hitting his. Hongjoong stumbled back, the man’s bleeding corpse falling into him limply, and he screamed, shoving it away, hands slipping on the blood on the man’s shirt. 

There was the sound of a door bursting open as he finally managed to stumble away from the man’s body, head jerking up to the doorway where he saw Seonghwa appear, frazzled and pale, his eyes darting in pained regret between Hongjoong, his gun, and the body on the floor in their bedroom.

Hongjoong felt like he was going to vomit as he clutched his bloodied hands to his chest helplessly, knees weakening.

“S-Seonghwa-”  

~~~~~~~~~

Now

When Seonghwa got the perimeter alert, he didn’t even apologize to Yeosang for running out in the middle of his report during their meeting. 

The others knew there was only ever one reason he would be leaving like that. 

He broke every speed limit to get back to the apartment, cursing the slow elevator as he counted the seconds that ticked by too fast, seeming to match every beat of his frantic heart. 

The elevator’s ding as it reached their floor was overridden as he heard the muffled sound of a gunshot, and his heart had leapt to his throat. 

He threw the penthouse door open hard enough to break the drywall behind it. His slipped for a moment on the slick tile, but it was barely a stumble before he was sprinting through the apartment, ignoring all the broken glass and racing to the bedroom, blood painfully icy- 

Seonghwa knew he had fucked up when he saw the still smoking gun, the blood covering Hongjoong’s hands, and the body on the floor. 

He had been too late. 

Hongjoong stared at him blankly when he entered, eyes wide and hands shaking. “S-Seonghwa, I-”

His quiet voice broke Seonghwa out of his shock as he stepped inside, avoiding the blood on the carpet, heart clenching as he ignored the body in favor of touching Hongjoong’s arm gently. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured under his breath, crowding against Hongjoong slightly to block his vision of the room. He took Hongjoong’s clammy hands gently and pried the gun out of his stiff, shaking grip. 

Hongjoong made a quiet noise of distress as his eyes flickered down to the gun, but one of Seonghwa’s hands was already catching his head and tilting it back up to stare at Seonghwa’s face. “Eyes on me,” he whispered gently, holding Hongjoong’s trembling gaze as he dropped the gun onto the bed carefully. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were wet as he grabbed Seonghwa’s hands with his slick ones, trembling like a leaf. “I- I didn’t mean- It wasn’t- H-He-” 

“Hey,” Seonghwa prompted in a comforting whisper, still ensuring Hongjoong’s eyes were on him. He squeezed his clammy hands gingerly, making Hongjoong take a slow breath that shook. “Did he hurt you?” 

There was blood smeared all down his front, but it didn’t look like it was coming from him. 

The sight still made Seonghwa’s stomach clench in the same way it did when a shipment went wrong. The sensation of failure. 

Hongjoong shook his head, though, hands trembling. “No, he- I-”  The first tear escaped, slipping slowly down his ashen face. “I d-disarmed him, he wasn’t a threat, but he ran at me- I- I got scared, I pulled the trigger, I didn’t mean-” He shook his head harder. “I killed him, Seonghwa,” he whispered, tone stiff and scared.

Seonghwa was one of the most powerful men in Seoul. 

But even he couldn’t turn back time. 

He swallowed the bitter taste of regret as he stepped completely away from the corpse, hands taking Hongjoong’s elbow and hand to guide him, still keeping his face turned to Seonghwa’s chest, rather than letting his eyes wander around the room.  

“Come on,” he coaxed in a gentle murmur, not even bothering to try and comfort Hongjoong yet. He wouldn’t hear a word out of Seonghwa’s mouth for another hour, at least.  

He led Hongjoong around the body, the other still shaking as he turned his head upward, careful not to look at the cooling body as Seonghwa guided him through the room and into the hall bathroom. 

Seonghwa turned on the shower- warm, not too hot or cold- and pulled back the curtain, helping Hongjoong step into the tub, clothes and all. 

Hongjoong nearly tripped over the lip, but Seonghwa was already supporting most of his weight, so it was nothing more than a little stumble. Hongjoong made a weak noise of surprise and frustration, fists clenching weakly as Seonghwa steadied him. 

Seonghwa didn’t even notice his own clothing getting wet as he grabbed a rag, wiping the fresh blood from Hongjoong’s skin easily. 

When Hongjoong bowed his head, resting his chin on his chest, Seonghwa didn’t tell him to lift it, working intently to get the blood off as Hongjoong’s shoulder began to shake. 

His longer hair fell into his eyes as he continued to cry silently, and part of Seonghwa hated the silence, but he had learned that until Hongjoong calmed himself down, there was no use in speaking. 

He got Hongjoong free of blood, save for the stains on his night clothes. “Arms,” Seonghwa guided carefully, taking the shirt off of Hongjoong and letting it fall wet onto the tub floor. “Hold on,” he murmured, waiting until Hongjoong’s arms clung to his shoulders as Seonghwa stripped him of the rest of his clothing, leaving it in the tub.  

He checked in a quick scan for any other blood or wounds. But only pale, clean skin stared back at him. 

Hongjoong fought wordlessly for a moment when Seonghwa tried to shift away, but he simply brushed his wet hair back gently, wiping at the water and tears mixing on his pale cheeks. 

“I’ll be right back,” Seonghwa promised quietly, squeezing his chilled hands. 

Hongjoong dropped his head and let him go, as he always did, staring at his hands and turning them over, as if wondering where the blood had gone. 

Again, ignoring the body on their floor, Seonghwa got new clothes from their dresser before rushing back, though his demeanor was calm. Hongjoong hadn’t moved, still staring at his hands as the shower ran over him. 

With gentle promptings, Hongjoong began stepping out of the tub with Seonghwa’s help, shivering slightly when Seonghwa turned the water off. 

Carefully guiding him out of the shower, Seonghwa only dried him enough to get rid of the dripping water, helping him slip into the dry, stain-free night clothes with practiced ease. 

Hongjoong leaned against him as Seonghwa guided him by the hand into the living room, their bedroom door closed tightly against the scene they left behind. 

“Careful,” Seonghwa murmured, noticing how far the glass had spread (it wasn’t from the window, but it looked like a cup they had left on the table shattered). He picked Hongjoong up easily, carrying him bridal style over the glass to the sofa. 

He grabbed the throw blanket across the back and tucked it around Hongjoong’s shivering frame. 

Seonghwa sat in front of him patiently, brushing Hongjoong’s wet hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear, playing the waiting game he knew all too well by now.

Hongjoong stared at the soft fabric of the couch blankly, eyes a hundred miles away, but no longer leaking tears. 

Seonghwa didn’t touch him yet, remaining silent and picking at the dirt under his nails. 

It was hard, the crossing of their two lives. Even after all this time. 

Seonghwa had been used to going it alone, relying only on the select members of his team to watch his back, not having a single weakness because he had no one left- no friends, no family, not even a cat he was fond of. 

He was used to being ruthless, working without care or hesitation. He’d never taken a single risk he hadn’t been sure would payoff. 

And then Hongjoong came into the picture. 

And Seonghwa had never understood the cliche of someone having a “spark.” 

He remembered rolling his eyes when he overheard Yeosang talking with San about how stupid Wooyoung was, but San had snorted. 

“Get over yourself- you’re so fucking whipped for his little spark .” 

Yeosang had glared, but there was a bit too much defensiveness in his eyes as he pointed his knife he was sharpening at San in warning. “Shut up, he’s just… You know, eccentric.” 

San snorted. “Uh-huh. And you’re fucking soft for him. Like a marshmallow.” 

Yeosang actually threw the knife at San, who caught it by the handle, flipping it around and pointing with it. 

“Bet he’s whipped for the fact that you act indifferent, but you’re so fiery underneath it all-” 

Seonghwa had stepped in when Yeosang snatched the knife back and tried to stab San for real. 

Seonghwa never really understood it. Being drawn to someone, just because they were a little excitable? Just looking at them and seeing something “special?” It seemed either a bit delusional or just plain nonexistent. 

What the hell even was a “spark?” Didn’t that just mean they were happy or something? Or annoyingly optimistic?

But Hongjoong… he had a spark. He had a fire . 

Seonghwa knew him to be the sweetest person in the world, as he had seen outside Hongjoong’s shop for the first time- calm and empathetic, but mischievous and fiery

But the first time Seonghwa managed to really push Hongjoong’s buttons- when Hongjoong was given the right reason- he acted as a fierce force to be reckoned with. 

Hongjoong was the kindest person in the world (Seonghwa firmly believed), but he could act as dangerous as anyone on Seonghwa’s team. 

But that was the catch.

It was an act. 

All his anger and boisterous words and sharp tongue and cold indifference was a front- a layer of protection against the world. 

Seonghwa had been a bit skeptical from the beginning- there was no one in the world that stupidly kind. 

Seonghwa resolutely refused to believe it was genuine. 

And after the first time Seonghwa was exposed to his cold apathy, his fiery anger that had matched his then-red hair, Seonghwa thought it was the break in Hongjoong’s act. 

He thought it was Hongjoong finally shedding his mask of kindness. 

Seonghwa had thought it was just his true nature coming out, the harsh words spat at him in anger as Hongjoong stormed away, making Seonghwa think that their little tryst was over (though it had felt like anything but a tryst). 

Seonghwa thought he had finally managed to break into the darker side of Hongjoong. 

Until Hongjoong had run back into the room, sobbing as he threw down a flower and then glaring at Seonghwa with tear-soaked skin.

It was a purple hyacinth, picked from the vase Hongjoong had artfully arranged in the foyer. 

And Seonghwa didn’t need a google search to know what it meant. He’d heard Hongjoong talking about it in passing one day: I’m sorry. Please forgive me. 

Even the most violent of Hongjoong’s anger was nothing more than a farce- a show of smoke and mirrors, to defend the fragile part of him that got hurt too easily, that took everything to heart. 

Seonghwa came to learn that Hongjoong’s true anger was quiet. Silence, followed by hours more of a refusal to even look at Seonghwa. A retreat, rather than a confrontation.

At first, Seonghwa didn’t know the whole story. Didn’t understand why Hongjoong acted mean and tough and cold when he got defensive or uncertain. It was simply an act that he knew Hongjoong had perfected throughout his life. 

And it was an act that eventually saved his life.

Again and again, that act had become Hongjoong’s shield after entering into the warzone of Seonghwa’s life. 

 It was a tactic Seonghwa and his team used all the time: if Ateez thought they couldn’t win, the next best plan was to fake it until they figured a way out, to buy time with fake confidence.

Outnumbered a hundred to one, you could never let them see you nervous, could never let them know you didn’t have back up, could never let them think you weren’t completely in control of this situation. 

You acted as if things were going entirely your way. 

And you waited for a plan to come to mind. 

In Hongjoong’s case… he faked it while he waited for Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong knew how to defend himself, Seonghwa had made sure of that. (Well, Yeosang was their resident expert, but Seonghwa had been there too). 

But Hongjoong didn’t have the heart to step on a bug, much less take a human life. His life consisted of delicate arrangements of flowers and kind smiles that were too bright and genuine. The very things that had drawn Seonghwa to him… were the reasons Seonghwa had tried to stay away. 

Hongjoong was soft and kind and bright… Completely unfit for this kind of life. 

Seonghwa got alerts when the perimeter of their apartment was breached, and he would get there within minutes. 

They had created a plan. A system. 

And if everything went according to plan, Hongjoong would keep the thug talking long enough for Seonghwa to get there and take care of it. 

But sometimes - not frequently, but too often - Seonghwa wouldn’t get there in time. 

Hongjoong had never once been actually hurt by these idiotic thugs, but he had needed to defend himself when they decided they had wasted enough time. 

It was at that time that the act crumbled and Hongjoong made a choice. 

And it was a choice that killed him every time . Because his options were kill or be killed. 

And even as Seonghwa cursed his own shortcomings, he thanked every god that listened that Hongjoong chose to kill. 

The first time it happened - that their system fell apart and Seonghwa was too late - Seonghwa was terrified he had ruined something irreparably. 

Hongjoong’s terrified eyes and silence, his haunted expression and cold hands… the kind of horror and fear through his entire body that Seonghwa had seen in a million different targets… 

Seonghwa had never wanted to- nor thought he ever would- see that expression on Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa had spent hours trying to get him to speak, a desperate fear in his own blood as Hongjoong remained mute and shaking, demanding that he say he was okay, something- 

Seonghwa was sure he had ruined everything. 

It was the first time Seonghwa realized… that he had a weak spot now - something to exploit, something that he could lose . 

Something that he was afraid to lose. 

Slowly, Hongjoong had come back to himself, assuring Seonghwa that he was fine, apologizing for freaking out, for killing the man, for not being able to hold out until he got there- 

Seonghwa couldn’t remember the last time he cried. 

Even when one of his team got hurt, even when they nearly died- it was only solemn eyes and heavy hearts that met them.

 With Hongjoong, Seonghwa had cried with him, apologizing for bringing him into this life, for not being fast enough, for not taking proper measures. 

Seonghwa had tried to end it with him. 

He withdrew, keeping a distance and telling himself that it was for the best - Hongjoong wasn’t meant to live this life, and Seonghwa wouldn’t try and make him. 

This had resulted in Hongjoong bursting into their meeting room after waking up to a note from Seonghwa, explaining why things needed to end, and for once, the anger on his face was not an act. 

“I can’t put you through that again,” Seonghwa had tried to excuse (after dragging a ranting Hongjoong out into the hall as the others exchanged worried glances). “ I won’t hurt you like that. You’re not made for this life.” 

“I didn’t sign up for this life!” Hongjoong had shouted, waving the note around angrily with eyes that threatened to burn him. “ I signed up for you. To be with you.”

Seonghwa had been stone, looking down at Hongjoong who was several inches shorter, but seemed more deadly than a sniper at the moment. 

“And by extension- that means I put up with the fact that there are going to be people who try to kill me, and there are going to be times when I’m going to have to kill someone! Is that something I want? No! But it’s something I understand is going to happen if I want to be with you. And guess what?”

Hongjoong shoved Seonghwa in the chest, barely making him step back, but the force behind it told of his genuine anger. 

 “Being with you is worth having to break morals sometimes, alright? Do you fucking get it now, idiot?” 

Even as Seonghwa tried to excuse his actions, tried to convince Hongjoong it was the best thing for them… 

All he did was fall a little harder. 

It took a while - a long time - for Seonghwa to accept Hongjoong’s stubborn refusals. 

To stop trying to convince Hongjoong to leave, to stop locking him out of his apartment until Hongjoong camped out one night, to stop avoiding him when he did follow Seonghwa like an annoying puppy that glared and barked- 

Seonghwa didn’t want to break things off. He liked Hongjoong way too much to want to end things. 

But fear was not an emotion Seonghwa was accustomed to, and he felt it in abundance for Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong held on tighter to him than Seonghwa could ever remember anyone holding on. 

Seonghwa hadn’t dated much, especially after stepping into a leadership role among KQ. But every date he had ever gone on had been little more than a single-night distraction for both parties. One night stands and bored attempts at getting out more that inevitably were mutually decided to be broken off, or ghosted entirely. 

Hongjoong… was the first person who fought for Seonghwa to stay. 

And in truth? Seonghwa didn’t want to leave at all. 

He just wanted to stop hurting Hongjoong. Hurting him had never been part of the plan, though Seonghwa should have fucking known it needed to be part of the plan. 

But he’d failed to anticipate the fact that Hongjoong would be at risk, somehow. So he tried everything he could to make sure it wouldn’t ever happen again. Or, at least, that they were ready when it did. 

(Because Hongjoong made it clear he had no intention of leaving.) 

And their system worked. 

Most of the time. 

And the times when it didn’t work, they got used to the process they went through. Honestly, Seonghwa had forgotten what it felt like to care about taking a life. 

In some ways, Hongjoong was just so much more human than Seonghwa was. He could afford to feel things Seonghwa couldn’t. (Where Hongjoong was concerned, Seonghwa was learning to feel them.)

Seonghwa still felt like shit every time Hongjoong had to go through it- had to kill or be killed, had to perform an act that was never going to be okay… 

But they had both come to an understanding that it was just a part of their lives. A nasty part, a part he would spare Hongjoong from at the first chance, but a part nonetheless. 

They worked out a system. 

And Seonghwa fell into a rhythm of taking the gun away, of getting Hongjoong away from the blood, of keeping him warm and safe until he stopped replaying the scene in his mind, of keeping silent until Hongjoong brought himself out, and would then start moving passed it. 

It still killed Seonghwa to be so still and helpless. But this was what worked best for Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong was stronger than Seonghwa could ever truly realize. And there were some things he needed to work through on his own, without Seonghwa holding his hand through it all. 

Seonghwa stopped counting the minutes as he stared at his pale fingers against the dark black of the couch.

He startled slightly when Hongjoong breathed out slowly, rubbing at his eyes and running a hand through his hair. Seonghwa wanted to ask if he was okay, but he kept quiet, waiting on him, until he opened his eyes and they were less haunted. 

Seonghwa’s chest unlocked as Hongjoong’s eyes focused on him- tired, but coherent. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered, drawing the blanket further around himself. 

They had stopped apologizing to each other (for being too late, for crying, for killing, for being unable to help until Hongjoong helped himself) because they knew it was a pointless game of guilt. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” Seonghwa asked, voice soft as he reached out slowly for Hongjoong’s clammy hand. 

Hongjoong shook his head, swallowing. “No,” he replied quietly, shifting until he held his hand willingly. “But can you-” He tugged on Seonghwa’s hand. “Just- come here real quick,” he requested. 

Seonghwa moved over on the sofa until he was right in front of him, and Hongjoong leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa’s waist and resting his forehead against his shoulder, sighing quietly. 

He returned the hug slowly, waiting to see if it would make Hongjoong uncomfortable, but he just leaned closer into the embrace. Hongjoong was cold, but he hummed contentedly against his shoulder. 

“You’re warm,” he murmured against him, rubbing his icy nose against his shoulder. 

The gentle statement made Seonghwa feel better. Sometimes, the silence continued, even after Hongjoong gathered himself. 

“No, you’re just freezing,” Seonghwa chuckled softly, rubbing his arms to try and warm them. “Do you want a bigger blanket? A jacket?” Hongjoong shook his head. Seonghwa frowned. “Are you sure?”

Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Because then you’d have to move. So just keep me warm and don’t move.” 

Well, Seonghwa wasn’t keeping him warm very effectively from this position. 

“Here- turn,” he said, guiding Hongjoong around until they rested back to chest. He tucked the blanket back around Hongjoong and locked his arms around, holding him tightly. “Still warm?” he questioned. 

Hongjoong shifted like a cat trying to get comfortable, but nodded, humming as he leaned back against Seonghwa. 

He still trembled a little, but Seonghwa knew that would pass soon. 

His longer hair tickled Seonghwa’s nose when he rested their heads together, but they fell into a comforting silence as he rocked side to side gently, trying to help Hongjoong fall back asleep. 

(In the beginning, it would be days before Hongjoong would sleep again without nightmares, but now, he could usually get a nap in if Seonghwa could make him tired enough.) 

Hongjoong freed one hand from his blanket folds, and Seonghwa was about to ask what he needed, but he simply reached up and curled his fingers around one of Seonghwa’s hands resting in front of him. 

It wasn’t a firm, grounding grip, but just a gentle hold, like he just wanted to make sure Seonghwa was still there. 

Seonghwa’s heart clenched a little in a way that used to send him running. Now, he learned to simply acknowledge it as the natural state of the universe around Hongjoong. 

Back before they had settled their routine, Seonghwa had viewed what he felt for Hongjoong to be a weakness. An exploitable point. 

Nothing but a danger to them both. 

And Seonghwa had prided himself on not having any sort of pressure point for someone to take advantage of. On being an impenetrable fortress that the entirety of Seoul knew was unbreakable, unreachable. 

But it had done little to stop or lessen what he felt for Hongjoong. 

After the fiasco where Hongjoong refused to leave Seonghwa behind just for his own safety, Seonghwa tried finding ways to lessen the danger around him. 

He had Yeosang teach him how to shoot, San taught him self-defense moves, Jongho wired a necklace button for emergencies that everyone in the team had access to and the nearest person would get to his location.

When Hongjoong came to and from their base, there was someone of Ateez escorting him, if Seonghwa couldn’t. 

(Seonghwa headed KQ, with hundreds of teams spread across Seoul. Only members of his direct personal team were allowed to interact directly with Hongjoong. To the rest of KQ, he was someone under Seonghwa’s protection, and that was all they needed to know. Even if they all knew Hongjoong was someone more.)

Their already protected penthouse was redoubled with security. 

Seonghwa had several lines of direct communication with Hongjoong.

But after a while… Seonghwa realized none of it really mattered. 

He could lock Hongjoong up in a steel vault wrapped in bubble wrap, and Seonghwa would still be looking over his shoulder for him, still keeping half a mind on whether he was alright, still constantly wondering if he was safe enough where he was. 

It was just a product, a side effect, of what Hongjoong did to him. 

Even if they did break up, even if Seonghwa did cut off all connection from him, he knew it wouldn’t last. 

He would still keep tabs, make sure he was alright from sources outside of gangs and rivalry - because it didn’t really matter. Seonghwa was already far too deep for anything to make a difference. 

Protecting Hongjoong was already hardwired into his blood, same as it has been since the moment they met.

Hongjoong had already become the sun in the center of Seonghwa’s solar system that everything else revolved around. 

So Seonghwa stopped fighting it… accepted it…and worked with it. 

Did he go to work terrified every morning? Not so much now that he knew Hongjoong could handle himself, but in the beginning? Any call or text from Hongjoong had him leaping out of his chair, terrified something had happened. 

But with time, as they both got used to the life they were building, he mellowed. 

Did he still take Hongjoong with him to the base whenever he could, just to have him closer? Yes. 

His team had nearly had a heart attack the first time he showed up at the base with Hongjoong. 

“Is this even legal?” Wooyoung had demanded, arms waving wildly as the rest of them stared at Seonghwa, despite all of them having known about Hongjoong beforehand. (Wooyoung suffered from an incurable case of being a dramatic bitch.) “Hyung- what drugs are in your system right now?” 

Truthfully, it was a risk on both sides to have Hongjoong at the base. 

But then again, just Hongjoong’s presence existing near Seonghwa’s was a danger. 

Because it brought Hongjoong in direct contact with the most dangerous men in Seoul. But it also brought a potential leak into their operation. An… exploitable opening, if things went wrong.

It was a risk… Seonghwa decided to take. That his team took on with him. 

Hongjoong’s humanity wasn’t only appealing to Seonghwa. Hongjoong had thought Yeosang was plotting something against him with how he smirked at Hongjoong the entire night from his perch on a crate. 

Turns out… Yeosang was just infinitely amused by the new face who was very clearly not born and bred to be a killer (read: semi-cowering in uncertainty around the new faces of heavily armed men staring at him). 

Hongjoong didn’t fear them - Seonghwa had ensured that he understood they were not a threat to him - but facing down a man calmly cleaning a sniper would make any person uneasy. 

In the beginning, Hongjoong was kept far from any of their meetings and discussions. 

With time… as things were worked out… as confidence was built and trust was enforced… Hongjoong came and went as he pleased from their meeting rooms, though he tended to avoid them and their boring nature

Now, Seonghwa didn’t care what Hongjoong knew, most of the time, because he knew that there was never going to be a way to keep him perfectly safe. And he trusted Hongjoong implicitly. With everything. 

Most of the time, it was just Hongjoong being bored around the base- sitting around, working, while people were out on jobs or in meetings, but sometimes one of them would have some free time and would keep him entertained. 

Seonghwa met him often, even if he was abhorrently busy nearly every hour of the day. 

Seonghwa was used to spending 99% of his time at the base, his apartment going unused. 

Until Hongjoong moved in. And his late nights of staying at the base were reduced to maybe 45%. 

Hongjoong had torn up nearly every routine Seonghwa had, and he couldn’t find a single thing to complain about. 

But the base was nearly their second home. Their fall back and protection when their first homes were threatened. No fortress was impenetrable. Not even penthouse apartments with decked out security. 

There had been one very terrifying experience, where their previous apartment had been completely exposed, rather than just infiltrated. The entire criminal and gang network lit up like a firecracker as thugs and murdering thieves descended like flies. 

Seonghwa had been in a meeting when he heard the alarm and received the news. Seonghwa had never been the type for believing in luck, but it was pure coincidence that Hongjoong had been with Seonghwa at the time, staying late at the base with him, instead of going home like he normally would. 

Seonghwa still had nightmares about what might have been if Hongjoong had been home at the time. 

Neither of them left the base for a couple of weeks until he was satisfied they could move without being tracked. Hongjoong had needed to put the shop on hold for a while, working out of base with difficulty, but knowing that the alternative was worse. 

Seonghwa hated every moment that Hongjoong would sigh and run rough hands through his hair as he tried to figure out how to work a flower shop from dozens of miles away from the actual shop. 

He hated every moment his life disturbed Hongjoong’s. 

Seonghwa hated himself for each of those moments. 

It was in those days, when Hongjoong had a lot of downtime… that Hongjoong had really talked to Seonghwa for the first time. 

He wasn’t sure what it was about the darkness around the base, but he had held Seonghwa’s hand in a pitch black room, and for the first time, Hongjoong had been truly open about how much this life was affecting him. 

“I’m scared, Seonghwa. Like… I’m terrified,” he had whispered, and Seonghwa had been dying to be able to see his face. “I just keep thinking about… what if one time, someone does get us? What if one time, you just don’t come back from a job?”

His hand had trembled in Seonghwa’s. And Seonghwa squeezed it, an apology on his lips and a promise to put Hongjoong out of danger and never interact with him again- 

 “What if… what if someone doesn’t fall for my trash talking, and they just shoot me straight through?” Hongjoong whispered. 

Seonghwa had thought that this was the breaking point, terrified, even as he accepted his fate. 

Terrified that this was the moment where Hongjoong decided that he couldn’t take anymore, and walked away. 

And even though Seonghwa had originally pushed for it, the thought of Hongjoong leaving was anything but desired, now. 

But Seonghwa had loosened his hold on his hand, prepared to wish Hongjoong luck in all his endeavours in life, when Hongjoong had suddenly held onto his more firmly, not letting him go. 

“But,” Hongjoong whispered firmly, shaking but not letting Seonghwa get away. “It only makes me appreciate this-” He held up their hands that were linked. “ These quiet moments, all those times when I’m sitting, bored out of mind… It’s made me realize that… those threats are what make the boring times good, they’re what make the small things big…”

Seonghwa had learned to live in the moment. 

Because he had already gone through those moments of fear- of wondering if he was going to make it out alive, or see the next day without a bullet in his back. He had held that fear... and he had let it go. 

Seonghwa merely accepted every moment as it was: a moment where he wasn’t dead. Maybe the next moment, he would be dead. But he wasn’t now. 

He had never thought of any moment as “special,” though. 

Not until Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong had changed everything.

“They make every moment we’re not in danger important ,” Hongjoong had said, firm and resolute. As if this were fact. “ They make me want to live more, Seonghwa.” He could just barely make out the earnest desperation in Hongjoong’s eyes. “They make me want to be with you more. I don’t think I’ll ever be 100% used to this life…but I know that I’m never leaving it. Because I don’t want to leave you.”

Seonghwa, to this day, continued to believe that Hongjoong was insane for ever choosing Seonghwa. But, to this day, it was a choice that left him in awe. 

“I don’t want to leave someone that makes me feel alive,” Hongjoong whispered fiercely. “I don’t want to walk away from someone I love just because I’m scared.”

It had shaken Seonghwa.  

That Word was dropped so casually , so habitually, that Seonghwa wondered just how many times Hongjoong had said it in his own head, never voicing it, but knowing . 

Seonghwa never thought about love. But Hongjoong just said it. 

It was earth shattering, but in the quietest way. 

It changed everything , but Seonghwa only had it in him to smile gently, squeezing his hand and assuring Hongjoong he would do everything he could to keep him safe. 

Loving Hongjoong was a constant fear, but it was one he learned to live with. 

One he had learned to live with… happily, even if not perfectly. 

The body cooling on his bedroom floor was proof that it was not perfect. 

But… the breathing, warm, living body between his arms was proof that he was… happy. 

Seonghwa glanced down at Hongjoong against his chest, leaning to see if he had fallen back asleep. 

Hongjoong’s eyes were closed, face relaxed in a peaceful sleep, but his hand still rested against Seonghwa’s. 

Even after everything, even with a man’s body still laying in their bedroom, Hongjoong trusted him enough to fall back asleep without worry. 

Seonghwa flipped one hand, holding Hongjoong’s firmly. It was smaller than his, but not weaker. 

No, Hongjoong was not weak, not in any way. 

The sort of strength it took to put up with everything he did… To put up with Seonghwa alone… He smiled, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss to his temple. 

Hongjoong curled his head further into Seonghwa’s chest, innocent and beautiful. 

Seonghwa… thought about that little velvet box waiting in his top drawer. But he had been thinking about that a lot lately-

“You should sleep, too,” Hongjoong murmured, half awake, eyes still closed. 

“I will,” Seonghwa promised quietly, running his thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the smooth skin with a gentle smile. “In a while. You can sleep, though.” 

Hongjoong hummed, shifting to be more comfortable against him. “Don’t stay up all night watching me sleep, creep,” he said, chuckling sleepily, the sound causing Seonghwa’s chest to unlock in relief at the casual joking. 

Seonghwa sighed, tapping his hand gently. “That doesn’t sound like sleeping to me…” 

“I’m sleeping, I’m sleeping,” he muttered, settling down. “I love you, good night.” 

Once again… after so many other times… That Word so casually, so habitually tossed out. 

But still holding as much impact as the first time, because if it was hard enough to believe that Hongjoong would love someone like Seonghwa, it was impossible to think that he would keep loving him. 

Seonghwa rested his head on top of his. “Good night,” he whispered.

Hongjoong fell into silence again, and as promised, Seonghwa stayed awake a little while longer, only long enough to text Mingi that someone needed to come clean up the dead guy in his apartment. 

And then he laid down on the sofa, taking Hongjoong with him until they both rested comfortably. 

Seonghwa used to think of his relationship with Hongjoong as a weakness, an exploitable area. Something to guard and fear and eventually regret. 

But now there was nothing further from the truth. 

What he felt for Hongjoong was a strength. 

It was what kept him going, what kept him watching his back, what made him be that much more careful on a job, what gave him so much motivation to make it home okay, what gave him so many reasons to go home instead of living at the base. 

It gave him a normalcy that he hadn’t had since he was a teenager, it gave him someone separate from everything to rely on and confide in…  but someone close enough to understand what Seonghwa was facing. 

He was precious. 

His smaller body tucked under Seonghwa’s arms. Not like he was made to fit there, but as if Hongjoong’s body had slowly worn down Seonghwa’s body over time to perfectly fit within him. 

Hongjoong was not a weakness. 

Save for maybe how easily Seonghwa would give in when he wanted something. 

That, probably, was his only weakness. 

And it wasn’t even really that big of one, was it? 

Hongjoong was very high on the list of things that Seonghwa feared for. 

But he was also at the top of the list of things that gave Seonghwa strength to face those fears. 

Because Hongjoong faced his fears and morals for Seonghwa… The least Seonghwa could do was actually show up on time. 

~~~~~~~~~

Then

Seonghwa saw Hongjoong outside his little floral shop, spraying the roses and blooming flowers scattered across his display tables. 

That was the first time Seonghwa saw him- dressed in washed out blue jeans and a cream sweater with a bright blue apron over the front. 

Seonghwa had paused where he sipped his coffee on the patio of the cafe, attention caught by the fiery red hair that had practically burned under the sun at the time. 

A woman passed by, pushing a stroller, and Seonghwa watched the florist stop watering for a moment, smiling brightly as he nodded in greeting to her as she waved- a polite interaction between passing strangers. 

The florist noticed Seonghwa as he straightened from his half-bow, staring at him from two shops down. Seonghwa was staking out on a cafe patio to wait for their informant to come have a chat. The stranger stared at Seonghwa, pausing when he realized Seonghwa was already looking at him. 

Seonghwa wasn’t shy (and almost painfully oblivious to what was considered a normal social interaction) - he’d held Hongjoong’s gaze when the man noticed him, not glancing away. 

The man’s delicate features frowned in confusion before flushing in embarrassment at being caught staring (despite the fact that it was Seonghwa who had really been staring). 

Seonghwa’s lips twitched as the other turned around swiftly, as if Seonghwa may have magically not noticed him. 

He’d hurried back into the shop, clutching his squirt bottle like battle armor against embarrassment. 

Seonghwa’s informant showed up a few minutes later, they had their talk, and Seonghwa left his table to go pay his bill inside. 

When he returned back outside… he found a single flower sitting between his empty cup and napkin. 

He immediately lifted his eyes, narrowed slightly in suspicion at the florist shop. 

But then he caught sight of the mop of red hair visible through the shop window, a face pressed to the glass that quickly disappeared with flushed cheeks when Seonghwa caught his eye. 

Frowning curiously, Seonghwa ran a finger along the stem of the flower. 

He didn’t know much or anything about flowers, so the name of it escaped him. It was a beautiful, delicate cream color, though, even Seonghwa could see that. 

Suspicion clung to the back of his throat, but… Seonghwa had eyes on every character and backwards criminal in this city. And there was no record of any of them running flower shops and blushing at strangers. 

He picked it up slowly, holding its delicate stem between his fingers as he turned it slowly. It was pure white, fragrant with little threads of yellow in the center to hold its pollen… 

Wasn’t it a camellia?

No, not a camellia… Hydrangea? No, those were the small ones…  

He hummed, glancing back at the shop. The windows were clear of any redheads… Seonghwa tucked the stem of the flower into his folder carefully, returning to their base and sitting it on his desk as he became distracted by more pressing matters. 

He felt a small twinge of amusement each time he caught sight of it from the corner of his eye, though. 

Barely an hour later, Yunho was there, delivering a report on the southern port shipments. His eyes fell on the little flower.

“Nice gardenia,” he commented as he was leaving. “What- did you find it on the road or something?” 

Gardenia- that’s what it was. 

Seonghwa glanced at it from his computer screen. “Someone left it behind,” he said conversationally, turning back. “I picked it up.” 

Yunho hummed, leaving without a word or suspicion.

Seonghwa was not an obsessive person. At least, not over people who weren’t going to have a sniper’s dot on their foreheads. 

It wasn’t as if he actively tried to forget, but the florist didn’t leave his head for the majority of the day, popping in and out of the back of his mind like the glimpses he had caught through a window.

He glanced at the flower too much during the day. He stared at it while waiting for a response to an email. He hummed, touching the tip of the stem carefully and rolling it idly. 

Decisions were made. 

Decisions he really never thought he’d have to make. 

Seonghwa went to the florist shop the next day, the flower held in his hand (the stem had half snapped off in the night, and it was slightly wilted from no water, but still recognizable). 

He pushed open the door slowly, stepping inside to the gentle chiming of a bell. 

The inside was covered with flowers, of course, but a voice called out from a back room that was separated by an open doorway. 

“Just a moment!” 

Seonghwa stepped up to the counter, humming quietly as he glanced around the shop that smelled fragrant and fresh. He’d give the man this… he was bold, if Seonghwa was correct. 

“Sorry about that,” a bright voice called, a bright cropping of red hair appearing with a friendly smile as he adjusted his apron- 

From a distance, Seonghwa hadn’t realized how short the other was, nor how sharp and delicate his features were, and Seonghwa was taken aback by the sudden appearance with a kind smile aimed up at him. 

Seonghwa felt especially dull next to him in his black overcoat and dark slacks - compared to the vibrant tie-dye of his shirt and bold green apron.

He was quite pretty. 

The man finally noticed Seonghwa as he finished adjusting his apron, stopping and staring at him for a moment in surprise before his eyes flickered down to his gardenia held in his hand. 

The florist’s eyes widened as his lips parted, as if readying an excuse, but Seonghwa held the gardenia out for him to see, lips kicking up in amusement as the other flushed a deeper red than his hair. 

“It’s a beautiful flower,” Seonghwa said when the other man made no move to speak. “A friend said it was a gardenia…” He glanced down at the delicate flower, running a thumb over a petal. “Out of curiosity, I looked up what it meant.” 

The flush to the man’s face suddenly drained as he paled. “Y-You looked up what it meant?” he stammered out, suddenly turning pink again, looking horrified

Seonghwa couldn’t help the quiet chuckle. Maybe it was mean, but the embarrassment was endearing. 

It had been a while since he’d interacted with people outside of his immediate sphere of job. And even longer since he’d interacted with someone so easily flustered and effected. He was used to being surrounded by anger and cold stares- mocking amusement, at best. 

This man was practically a breath of fresh air after years in a stuffy room. 

So sue Seonghwa for being endeared by it. 

“I’m curious by nature,” he excused expertly. “And it seemed like an especially specific kind of flower to leave.” 

The man looked ready to snatch the flower and run, making Seonghwa’s lips lift in a more genuine smile. 

He would never call the people of his team boring, but this was something different. 

“I found two meanings,” Seonghwa explained, displaying the flower needlessly. “One meaning ‘you’re lovely,’ and the other meaning ‘a secret love’…” He glanced up at the man, smirking wider. “And seeing as I don’t recall the two of us being in a secret relationship, I have to assume you meant the former…” 

That was, if the man meant anything by it at all. 

But the man was a florist- surely he knew what all these flowers meant? You weren’t usually just leaving flowers for strangers unless you had something to say. 

His mouth flapped for a moment, glancing between Seonghwa and the flower. “W-Well, I mean- I never thought you’d actually look up what it meant, no one… Uh… Usually, people aren’t that thorough-” 

“You make a habit of leaving flowers for strangers?” Seonghwa asked, amusement flitting through his chest as the florist sucked on his lips in embarrassment. 

“N-No!” he declared firmly, glaring defensively. “But I give flowers for a living, most people don’t care what they mean-” 

“So you did mean it?” Seonghwa questioned, one eyebrow lifted slowly. “That I was…” His lips twitched. “Lovely?” 

It was very clear that the man never expected to be put in such a position, seeming confused as to whether Seonghwa was being serious, or if he was upset or- 

Seonghwa smiled, something genuine and soft as he held the flower out carefully. 

Despite the nature of his work… Seonghwa was not a cruel man. Needless suffering was not something he inflicted with pleasure. 

Least of all to someone so clearly an innocent. So painfully ordinary and untouched. 

“I’m flattered,” Seonghwa said honestly as the smaller looked at the flower apprehensively. “But I’m not really in a position for… dating or flirting… or whatever it was you’re looking for. If my situation in life were different, I’d be honored to, but…” 

He watched the man’s face fall slightly, and then pull up in a tight smile. “I mean… It wasn’t really meant to go anywhere,” he said, chuckling awkwardly, shrugging tensely. “It was just… you know… one of those chances you take…” 

He cleared his throat suddenly, pushing the flower back.

“Keep it,” he said, voice tight with awkwardness. “I didn’t really expect anything, but it was a gift, so… just keep it.” 

Truthfully, Seonghwa felt bad for the man. It was painfully clear that even if he hadn’t been expecting the flirting to go anywhere, the rejection stung. 

Maybe, if he were in a better position, Seonghwa would have been happy to accept the affections of someone as bright, endearing and… honestly cute as the florist. 

Were he a different person… he might have felt regretful at losing the chance to better know someone like this. 

However… gang activity wasn’t really a topic you could bring up when playing 20 questions on a first date. 

“I really am flattered,” Seonghwa assured him, but the man was already shaking his head. 

“It’s fine,” he said, smiling brightly. “Really- it was just… you know, a chance you take, you know?” There was no hurt or regret in his eyes, but Seonghwa saw the embarrassment clinging to his lips and eyes. 

Seonghwa understood. But he didn’t expect to feel so bad about the rejection. 

“Could I at least get your name?” Seonghwa requested as he made his half-excuses to leave. 

The florist chuckled good naturedly. “Why?” he questioned. “Do you keep a list of people you turn down?”

“Of course not,” Seonghwa said quickly, eyes widening. “But I-” 

“I’m kidding,” the man assured Seonghwa, smiling kindly, despite the awkward air. “It’s Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong… was someone who didn’t leave Seonghwa’s head. 

Seonghwa was not in the business of obsessing over random passers-by in his life. No matter how endearing or flustered. Then again, it had been years since he held a conversation with a normal citizen who wasn’t the woman or man making his coffee. 

Hongjoong, though… he clung like a piece of honey Seonghwa had shaken off, the stickiness still clinging to his skin and only getting worse when he rubbed at it. 

More than infatuation, Seonghwa almost felt fascination at the other- his smile, his bright demeanor, and his gracious acceptance of the rejection, despite the clear sting… 

Seonghwa… 

Seonghwa kept going back. 

~~~~~~~~~

Now

Hongjoong placed the final sprig of baby’s breath in the bouquet, smiling in satisfaction at how it had turned out. 

Anniversaries were always a big deal to people. Hongjoong didn’t really understand the obsession with dates, but it always felt good when someone came in and their eyes lit up at seeing their perfect gift for that special someone. 

That was the moment of Hongjoong’s pride. The reason he put his heart and soul into his work. 

He heard the shop bell jingle behind him. He turned, smiling. “Welcome-” 

He paused, registering the dark shape in the doorway before his hesitation faded. 

“Yeosang,” he greeted, blinking in surprise. “Is… everything okay?” he asked automatically, glancing at the clock. 

The shop closed in thirty minutes. Usually, it would be Seonghwa showing up to take him home so that Hongjoong could avoid the subway at night.

Unless something went wrong. 

“Wrong” could be anything from a gunshot wound to a meeting that ran long. 

Yeosang let the door swing shut behind him, nodding. “Seonghwa just got caught up in some things. He won’t be home until later. Wooyoung and I are going to take you on our way out.” 

“Out to where?” Hongjoong questioned slowly, staring intently at Yeosang’s face. 

Yeosang was always hard to read. Namely because there were very rarely any emotions on his face to read. But it wasn’t like he was a blank slate. 

Yeosang could be smiling like the sun, and Hongjoong would be helpless to guess what was going on in his head. His entire personality was made of false mirrors and trap doors that Hongjoong still didn’t entirely understand after three years. 

But Hongjoong understood more now than he did before. 

And he knew that Yeosang wasn’t being entirely truthful. 

“Entirely” could be anything from an outright lie, to a slight omission of a single detail that Hongjoong wasn’t supposed to be privy to. 

And as always, Yeosang’s expression shifted into something more understanding as he leaned against the shop wall casually, jacketed arms crossed tight over his chest as he read Hongjoong like a book he hadn’t realized he had left sitting open. 

“Seonghwa will explain more when you see him next,” Yeosang said plainly. “For now… He’s just caught up in some stuff. Wooyoung and I will take you home.” 

Hongjoong had gotten used to being kept out of the loop to a certain degree. (Both for his own safety and the safety of the gang.) He still didn’t like it anymore than he ever had. But he’d gotten better at accepting it. 

It wasn’t as if they hid things from him- he had sat in on countless meetings, and helped Seonghwa talk through a hundred plans of infiltration. Usually, Hongjoong was only kept out of the loop while something was going on because they couldn’t risk something going wrong. 

But Hongjoong held his breath tightly for a moment before letting it go slowly, releasing the tension in his chest. 

“Okay,” he said, the familiar forced calm settling over him as he turned back to his arrangement. “Where are you and Wooyoung heading?” he asked conversationally, pushing Seonghwa out of his head for a moment. 

“We’ve got a meet up with some other parties,” Yeosang said, tactfully evasive of any details. “But we’re stopping for dinner on the way, since it’s not until midnight.” 

“Oh?” Hongjoong asked, glancing over his shoulder. “And where’s Wooyoung now?” 

“In the car.”

“He’s not allowed to come inside?”

“He’s being punished until we get to dinner,” Yesoang said, expression unimpressed and (seemingly) pissed. “He nearly got himself shot earlier, and I’m not happy about it.” 

Hongjoong still, after three years, could not label what the hell Yeosang and Wooyoung were to each other. 

Some sort of clashing soulmate-lovers-friends, pissed-fighting-enemy-brothers. There were times Hongjoong was sure they were moments away from actually killing each other, and then moments he found himself glancing at their ring fingers suspiciously. 

Neither of them, nor anyone in Ateez, ever described it to Hongjoong, and he’d never bothered to ask. 

Whatever they were, it was something that had apparently been happening long before they met Seonghwa, at whatever gang they had previously been in. 

“Was there a bust earlier?” Hongjoong asked, putting away the arrangement carefully with the others that were ready for pick up. 

“Just a brief run in.” 

Hongjoong paused where he was closing the door to the cooler. He took a slow breath, grip tightening on the handle. 

“Yeosang,” he said calmly, voice soft but heavy. “Do I need to prepare myself for Seonghwa potentially coming home with a bullet wound?”

“Well, logically, you should just sort of always have yourself prepared for that, since we can’t exactly always plan-” 

“Yeosang.” 

Hongjoong wasn’t in the mood for smartass responses. He heard Yeosang sigh quietly. 

“You should always be prepared for the worst, Hongjoong. You already know that,” he said, more serious and… kind. 

One thing that had shocked Hongjoong in the beginning… was how kind Ateez could be, when they weren’t snapping the necks of their enemies. 

“You know what I mean,” Hongjoong said, glaring gently as he turned to stare at Yeosang’s impassive expression. “Stop dancing around it.” 

“I can’t tell you anything,” Yeosang said firmly, though in the very depths of his eyes, there was regret. “I’m sorry, Hongjoong. Not until things are sorted out.” 

In the beginning… Hongjoong would fight. 

As if he had a right to demand the information, he glared and yelled that they tell him what was going on- 

As if every move they made wasn’t for his protection. 

While a bust was in progress was the most dangerous time for them. A delicate time of balancing secrecy with exploding warehouses and sniper shots. A single piece of leaked info could get someone killed. 

Hongjoong had learned to bite down on the part of him that was constantly alert with worry, and to simply nod slowly, knowing that the moment they could safely share something with him… they would. 

He just wished he could at least know what to prepare himself for, sometimes. 

Yeosang remained quietly in the corner of the shop as Hongjoong went about preparing to close. He put away his works, locked up the back room, closed down the register when it turned time… 

Yeosang was either silent the whole time or only made a passing comment on how pretty the flowers looked. Hongjoong was chatty, talking about the day- mostly to keep himself from obsessing over what the hell was happening to Seonghwa and the others (because when one was in danger, it usually meant at least half of the others were, too). 

Hongjoong grabbed his bag as he turned off all the lights, shouldering it as Yeosang straightened. “Let’s go,” he said heavily, hungry and tired now. 

“One final question,” Yeosang said as Hongjoong pushed open the door. “Those flowers in the corner there-” He pointed at them. “What do they mean?”

Hongjoong glanced over. “Really?” he questioned as Yeosang stepped out behind him, Hongjoong closing and locking the door. “Out of all those flowers, you’re fascinated by the carnations? Rather boring of you.” 

“Humor me.” 

Hongjoong shrugged as they started walking towards the black Sedan waiting for them. “Any flower can have multiple meanings. Or pretty vague meanings. Those are mauve carnations- no, they are not just purple, ” he muttered in annoyance. “Generally, they represent dreams and fantasies.” 

“Like… sexual ones?” Yeosang asked curiously. 

“Yeah. Depending on who you ask, it’s usually of the sexual variety. But you can add other flowers to make it less sexual.”

“Do people ever proposition other people with them?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hongjoong assured him, chuckling. “I guess it was sort of like telling them you’ve been having sex dreams about them. A request to fulfill that fantasy, sometimes. But it’s rare for anyone to really care about what flowers mean when asking for a bouquet. They think they look pretty. So I’ve had first-date teenagers asking for them, and I just have to laugh.” 

Sometimes, it felt like Hongjoong was living in another language that the entirety of Seoul just didn’t care about. And that was infinitely amusing. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“What’s with the sudden curiosity?” Hongjoong questioned, glancing at Yeosang who opened the back door of the car for him. 

“Nothing,” Yeosang said, gesturing Hongjoong in, grinning subtly as Hongjoong fastened his seatbelt. “I just thought that they looked a lot like one I saw sitting on Seonghwa’s desk last week.” 

Oh, fucking hell-

Hongjoong’s face flushed violently as he glared at Yeosang, ready to snap at him, but was met with the door closing in his face.  

Fucking asshole didn’t account for the fact that he was sitting in the passenger seat and all Hongjoong had to do was lean forward to get his tiny arms around Yeosang’s neck. 

Any of his friends could snap Hongjoong like a twig, even with his rather impressive training. With a single move, Yeosang would probably have him pressed against the car floor with his arm out of socket. 

But Yeosang merely laughed, grabbing Hongjoong’s arms to keep them from killing him. Wooyoung clearly didn’t know what was going on, but he laughed in delight, grinning from the driver’s seat. 

“Get him, Hongjoong! Use more forearm-” 

Hongjoong was a bit like the cute pet they were all a little too fond of. None of them would dare kick his ass, even when he was being annoying to the third degree. 

Wooyoung was not afforded that same courtesy as Yeosang twisted and popped a foot up, hooking it around Wooyoung’s neck and jerking his head forward towards the steering wheel. 

Only the fact that Wooyoung was just as good as Yeosang at hand-to-hand gave him reflexes fast enough to catch himself before breaking his nose. 

Hongjoong released Yeosang, glaring with his face still burning as he crossed his arms, sinking into the back seat. 

“Next time, make sure you have a knife,” Wooyoung huffed at Hongjoong, rubbing at his neck as he glared at Yeosang. 

Yeosang propped his feet up on the dashboard. “Just drive. We’re stopping to get Hongjoong food, and then we’ll head on.” 

“I have food at home,” Hongjoong muttered, tapping his cheeks to force them to cool down. 

Okay, so maybe Hongjoong liked passing Seonghwa flowers here and there… just for some fun. 

Flowers were Hongjoong’s love language. Seonghwa knew that, and there were few things better than seeing Seonghwa’s eyes warm as Hongjoong passed him a flower or a small bouquet, like a teenager at prom. 

But love was an entire language. And Hongjoong had a lot of things to say. 

(And Seonghwa knew that any flower he received was meant to carry a very specific meaning. It was their game.) 

It was particularly amusing when Seonghwa didn’t automatically know what a flower stood for (he’d done his research, but he didn’t know everything), and Hongjoong got to wait a few hours before receiving a call or text from Seonghwa about it. 

(The mauve carnation had gotten him silence all day until Seonghwa got home, holding it with a questioning eyebrow raised. Hongjoong had been beside himself with giggles that were barely able to be contained long enough to confirm that Seonghwa had, in fact, found the correct definition on the internet.) 

(That had been a bit of a wild night.) 

“We’re stopping for food,” Yeosang said without looking back. “Knowing you, you’ll just start freaking out too much to cook.” 

“I’m not an amateur,” Hongjoong huffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened. “We’ve been down this road before, Yeosang.” 

“Yeah, but you still act like it’s the first time, sometimes,” Wooyoung told him, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “Just grab some fast food and chill on the couch until he’s back.” 

Hongjoong didn’t feel like fighting it… and he was craving chicken at the moment. 

A half hour later, Hongjoong stepped out of the car with a box of chicken, waving goodbye to the others. 

“Thanks,” he said earnestly through the rolled down window. “You two… have fun with whatever you’re doing.” 

Wooyoung’s grin turned entirely too wicked and suggestive. “Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun.” 

Yeosang didn’t even look back before striking Wooyoung in the gut- hard enough to make him whine, but Wooyoung dodged enough not to be completely incapacitated. 

(It had taken Hongjoong a while to fully understand how normal stuff like this was between Ateez.) 

“Be safe,” Yeosang said, in his usual goodbye. “Don’t binge dramas just because you’re nervous.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, giving a half-salute as he turned away. 

As they drove away, he could hear Wooyoung whining at Yeosang for being so mean all the time. 

Once upon a time, Hongjoong had thought the two of them were having a purely hate-sex relationship. Voicing that suspicion resulted in a breakdown of laughter from Yunho and San that took fifteen minutes to calm down enough for them to assure Hongjoong that was anything but what the two of them were. 

Voicing it to Seonghwa had resulted in an absolutely shocked expression followed by the most uncontrolled snort that Hongjoong had ever heard, the other covering his mouth as laughter tried to escape that he tried to shove down, shaking his head as he assured Hongjoong that it wasn’t a stupid thought to have- 

Yeosang and Wooyoung were apparently just something the others had gotten so used to, they forgot how it might look to an outsider. 

And still, no one had a label for what the two of them were. 

All that mattered was that Yeosang and Wooyoung held the same rules for each other as everyone else on their team did: 

1.     You fight for each other. 
2.     You kill for each other. 
3.     You die for each other. 

Based on information gathered, Hongjoong knew that apparently, the two of them had held those rules before ever wandering into Seonghwa’s sector of illegal life. 

The penthouse was quiet, but Hongjoong still flicked on all the lights as he roamed through it, doing a quick sweep before sitting at the kitchen island on a barstool, distracting himself with sweet and sour chicken. 

Food made things a bit better as he let the TV play in the background, just for some noise. 

He kept his phone in front of himself, ringer on, and eyes straying to it every few minutes. 

It was barely past 10 (the shop closed for 9), and Hongjoong knew that there was no usual time for Seonghwa to return. Sometimes, it was before Hongjoong closed up, sometimes it was by 10, by midnight, by 3 AM- Hongjoong just knew that when he woke up at 6AM, and there was no sign of Seonghwa having come home… that was when he worried. 

He finished his food, sat and watched some TV blankly as he went through business emails and some spreadsheets. 

He had a bigger order for some graduation event next week… Ten bouquets, with lots of greenery… Pick up for 3:00, so if he set aside a few hours… 

He moved to the bed when it hit midnight, working on his laptop with the side lamp being the only light in the apartment. 

Sometimes, being home alone freaked Hongjoong out, if he thought too much about the past events he had gone through. 

However, Hongjoong had grown out of that fear for the most part. He was wary, he was cautious… but fear was usually only a background emotion that followed him like a dog trotting behind him. A passing thought, but Hongjoong trusted himself- trusted Seonghwa- too much to spend his time curled beneath the blankets like a child hiding from a storm. 

So, when he heard the chime of the front door unlocking, he didn’t automatically jump and grab a gun, simply glancing up from his laptop. 

Gangsters didn’t tend to know their passcode to unlock the door. 

He heard quiet footsteps making their way across the open tile floor, stopping at the kitchen (the sound turning from tile to marble) and moving around a bit. 

Hongjoong closed his laptop, setting it aside in time for their bedroom door to open and for Seonghwa to peek in, checking if Hongjoong was asleep or not. 

Simultaneously, Seonghwa looked disapproving that Hongjoong was still awake, and Hongjoong’s eyes flickered over his frame, looking for some sort of injury. 

“I thought you’d be asleep,” Seonghwa said quietly, coming in and closing the door behind him calmly. 

“I had some extra work to do,” Hongjoong said, gesturing to his closed laptop as Seonghwa shrugged off his suit jacket, letting it fall unceremoniously into the laundry hamper. “Did things go alright?” he asked, even if he didn’t know what “things” were. 

He glanced at Seonghwa’s legs, looking for a limp, and traced along his back, looking for any sort of wince or pained movement. 

Seonghwa hummed casually as he faced away from Hongjoong, unbuttoning his dress shirt and tossing it away, too. (Hongjoong frowned.) 

Hongjoong’s eyes had gotten skilled at searching out bruises, bandages, make-up hiding discoloration… Seonghwa’s back seemed perfectly fine. 

(Any other night, and Hongjoong might have been a little more interested in the toned appearance flexing as Seonghwa finished undressing, but he merely frowned in concern as Seonghwa continued to face away from him.) 

“Seonghwa.” 

His back was to him, but Hongjoong could see the quiet, calm outline of Seonghwa’s profile cast in the shadow of the lampshade as he glanced back at him. 

In the beginning, they would have fought- Seonghwa, that Hongjoong didn’t need to worry, and Hongjoong, that Seonghwa needed to stop hiding things. 

They had long since found a rhythm, though. And while Hongjoong held his breath, he saw Seonghwa release one. 

“It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Seonghwa murmured as he turned without fighting, showing his abdomen to Hongjoong in the dim, warm lighting of the lamp. 

It was most certainly not the worst Hongjoong had seen Seonghwa. 

(That had been so… so many worse things. So many more horrific things that Hongjoong had experienced.) 

But it wasn’t just a simple split lip or bruised knuckles from a fight. 

Seonghwa’s entire stomach was mottled with purple and yellow and black bruises, deep and ugly looking across his tanned skin. 

(In the beginning, Hongjoong would have cried seeing him like that.) 

But he stood slowly, jaw stiff as he stared at the large bruise that was casted stark and painful in the dim lighting. “Christ, Seonghwa,” he breathed, expression twisting in half-anger and half-concern. “Did you get hit by a fucking truck?” 

Seonghwa was calm as he shook his head, Hongjoong approaching slowly, staring at the dark bruises. 

Usually, the team’s injuries existed in extremes: either tiny scrapes or bullet wounds. No in between. Bruising this bad… wasn’t usual. 

Hongjoong reached out slowly, expression grim as Seonghwa let him run gentle fingers over the bruise, his touch rising and falling with the smooth contours of Seonghwa’s abdomen… 

“It really doesn’t hurt,” Seonghwa told him, voice low with the small distance between them, head tilted down to speak to Hongjoong. “See?” He took Hongjoong wrist and pressed a bit harder. 

Hongjoong stared at it for another moment before lifting his eyes to Seonghwa. “What happened?”

There was always a fifty-fifty chance for an answer: either “I can’t tell you yet” or an explanation of what happened. 

Never did Seonghwa not answer. That was a rule. Unspoken, but unbreakable. 

“There were six of them,” Seonghwa said quietly as Hongjoong continued to examine the mottled skin, finger brushing gently on particularly nasty looking parts. “At least five of them seemed to have some sort of anger management issue.” 

Hongjoong laughed humorlessly. 

“I was distracting them while Yunho was taking care of something else. I lost my gun… so, really, it was just me sitting there and taking a beating. But they hit like a bunch of kids.” 

“The blackhole in your skin says otherwise,” Hongjoong muttered disapprovingly, tucking away the sympathy pain in his chest. 

At least it was only this bad. 

Seonghwa’s warm hands caught Hongjoong’s, holding them tightly. “You know I bruise easy,” Seonghwa said, a gentle mirth in his voice. “I’m delicate.” 

Hongjoong slapped one of the less-injured sections of his chest, earning him a shocked hiss as Hongjoong glared at him. 

“Take that bruise,” Hongjoong huffed. “ That’s for making Yeosang not talk to me, and for making me think you were going to walk in with a bullet wound.” 

Seonghwa chuckled quietly, using his grip on Hongjoong’s hand to tug him closer, wrapping strong arms around him tightly. “Were you worried about me?” he asked- almost cooing, almost serious. 

Hongjoong glared, even as he relaxed against his bare chest, eyes closing. “I’ll hurt you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said, still half-serious, pressing a quiet kiss to Hongjoong’s head. “But I promise it doesn’t hurt.” 

Hongjoong sighed, breathing in the scent of Seonghwa (laundry, cologne, and mint) and work (gun powder, sweat, and metal). He allowed himself a moment to take comfort in the minor injury before pushing Seonghwa away roughly. 

“Alright,” he said firmly, glaring. “Now go shower. You stink.” He turned, climbing back into bed. “And hurry up, I’m tired.” 

He heard Seonghwa chuckle, leaving through their ensuite bathroom door. Hongjoong got his pajamas as the water turned on, a familiar sound as he put all his things away, laying down beneath the covers on the king bed. 

The bed was warm as Hongjoong turned off the lamp, casting the room in darkness that was only broken by the light coming from under the bathroom door. 

Hongjoong closed his eyes, no longer needing to be alert at all. He heard the water turn off, the door open, the rustle of clothes being pulled on, and then Seonghwa’s weight appearing on the bed behind him. 

Hongjoong didn’t know what they needed such a big bed for when they practically slept on top of each other every night. 

Seonghwa slid up behind him, an arm automatically wrapping around Hongjoong who relaxed into the touch. Seonghwa smelled more heavily of Seonghwa (mint and bodywash and damp hair), and less of work. 

“I missed you today,” Seonghwa murmured quietly against the back of Hongjoong’s neck. “You didn’t have time to come by the base.” 

Hongjoong hummed, surprised by how tired he got so fast. “Finished my projects, though,” he mumbled in response. “I have… another big one next week.” 

Seonghwa made a noise of disagreement, arms tightening around Hongjoong. “I don’t like your work,” he muttered petulantly. “It keeps you too busy.” 

Hongjoong chuckled sleepily. “You barely have time for me when I do have work occupying my time.” 

Seonghwa hummed, nosing along the back of Hongjoong’s neck ticklishly. “Who said I didn’t hate my work, too, for keeping me busy?” he asked. 

“We’ll both quit, then,” Hongjoong murmured tiredly, eyes still closed as Seonghwa finally settled behind him. “The others can support us.” 

“Deal,” Seonghwa chuckled quietly, hand resting warmly at the curve of Hongjoong’s waist. “Tomorrow, neither of us will go to work. And we’ll just stay in bed all day.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, telling Seonghwa to go the fuck to sleep. 

At 6AM, Hongjoong woke up to start his day and Seonghwa was already gone. He touched the sheets gently and found them cold, but not icy. He smiled quietly as he sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair.

In the kitchen, there was already coffee sitting ready-made for him.

Such, their routine continued. 

~~~~~~~~

Then

The beautiful man was back. 

Hongjoong was someone easily impressed, but even he couldn’t believe his audacity to flirt with someone that gorgeous. 

Was that hair even legal? It was dark, and long enough to brush in his eyes, even though it was styled into a little quiff- 

To be fair, the hot man was looking at Hongjoong first. 

He’d just felt like he was being watched, and noticed the man a few shops down staring at him quietly from the cafe, expression serious but not unpleasant. 

In a complete fit of insanity, Hongjoong made a choice. 

And got rejected. 

And nursed his bruised heart with ice cream and art videos on YouTube. 

But now the beautiful man was back, after that rejection. 

Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong froze when he entered the shop, blinking in surprise before shaking his head as the other approached with an awkward smile. “If you’ve gotten any more flowers, they’re not from me. I’m not quite that desperate.” 

(Hongjoong would be that desperate in a heartbeat, if he thought it would go anywhere.)

Seonghwa smiled quietly, shaking his head. “No, no mysterious flowers. I’m merely here to look around.” 

Hongjoong would have glared at the man for being so crude as to hang around someone who had so obviously confessed their infatuation. But… Hongjoong had the sneaking suspicion that Seonghwa wasn’t the most skilled in social cues. 

His reactions were a bit… too calm? As if this was simply another mundane part of his week, to kindly reject the florist who hit on him. 

Very kindly. Kind enough to make Hongjoong angry that his heart fluttered at a fucking rejection. 

But Seonghwa was back. 

“You suddenly need flowers for someone?” Hongjoong asked, leaning on the counter as Seonghwa browsed the displays and clusters of flowers. “Two weeks after I made an idiot out of myself?”

“You didn’t make an idiot out of yourself,” Seonghwa said absently, gently touching a rose’s petals. “In fact, you were quite classy with it. Creative, smart… I liked that.” 

Hongjoong was going to gut the man with a fucking shears. 

Did he seriously not understand that Hongjoong was trying not to fucking swoon? And he was talking about how Hongjoong was smart. And he liked it-

Seonghwa slowly turned to Hongjoong, expression passive but entirely innocent. “I didn’t come here to taunt you,” Seonghwa assured him firmly. “Or make fun of you… or whatever else my return might be construed as. I really do need flowers.” 

Hongjoong took a deep breath, wanting to tell the man to just leave. But part of him was just… appreciative of how blatant Seonghwa was. Telling it how it was, not mincing his words, not letting Hongjoong just flounder for what he was doing or what he meant… 

Understanding what Hongjoong may be thinking of him showing back up only a couple of weeks after rejecting him… 

Fuck if his heart wasn’t still tender from the rejection, but Hongjoong was way to into men who would just tell him what they meant. 

And somehow, Seonghwa’s brand of mixed calmness, flirtatiousness, and openness… was killing Hongjoong’s heart. Slowly, with a warmth growing in the pit of his heart and expanding against his chest. 

Hongjoong smiled as he leaned more heavily on the counter, endeared and amused despite knowing there was nothing happening. Hongjoong was friendly by nature, and business was business. 

“What kind of flowers?” he asked, lips curled up softly. “I can help, if you don’t already know what you’re looking for.” 

“I actually don’t have a clue what I want,” Seonghwa said, turning in place to look around the shop. “Is it possible for you to make one that would send a message for me?” 

Okay. 

Ow. 

If Hongjoong had to create a love message bouquet for the man he’d flirted with, he might just have to submit his life as a track reel for biggest fucking jokes of the universe. 

But Hongjoong was nothing if not professional, smiling kindly. “Of course. What sort of message? I can’t guarantee to have specifics in stock at the moment, but most messages can be told a few ways. Appreciation and gratitude, infatuation and interest-” 

“Actually, it’s for someone I’m not too fond of.” 

Hongjoong choked off, blinking in surprise. “I- You want to send a hate message?” 

Seonghwa nodded, eyes glancing intently over Hongjoong’s form before drifting back to his face. “Not a death threat or anything,” Seonghwa assured him, approaching the counter. “But something… to show annoyance? Or inconvenience, maybe?” 

Hongjoong stared blankly for a moment, waiting for Seonghwa to laugh. But he just continued to stare back, as if waiting for Hongjoong to think of something. 

(For someone who said he wan’t interested, Hongjong was pretty sure Seonghwa was staring at him a bit too intently. Hell would freeze over, though, before Hongjoong brought it up. He’d been caught in the trap of uninterested guys just wanting to look, before.)

Hongjoong realized Seonghwa was being serious and couldn’t help the snort that escaped him as he clapped his hands over his mouth. 

Seonghwa looked slightly startled by the loud noise, breaking his intense stare, but Hongjoong could barely contain his glee as he grinned at him. “You’re serious?” he asked, something giddy in his chest. “You want me to make that sort of bouquet?”

Seonghwa nodded slowly, staring at Hongjoong with disbelieving eyes, and Hongjoong tried to rein it in before he scared off a potential customer. 

But he hadn’t done one of these in years. 

Message bouquets were always more fun, but one that wasn’t just for a potential date? It had been so long, and Hongjoong was so ready for this. 

“Sorry,” Hongjoong said, though he was sure he was still grinning like an idiot. He ducked down, grabbing a notepad. “Y-Yes, I can absolutely do that,” he said, glancing around and thinking for a minute. 

Seonghwa was still staring at him, as if Hongjoong had grown another head. 

Cheeks heating, Hongjoong schooled his expression. “Sorry,” he said, half-bowing. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do a fun one like this-” 

“No, no,” Seonghwa suddenly said firmly, shaking his head with slightly wide eyes. “No, it’s- It’s absolutely fine. Have fun with it, it isn’t for a big occasion or anything.” 

Hongjoong couldn’t help but grin in excitement. “Okay…” He scanned the shop. “If you want it same-day, I’d have to work with what I have in stock. I’ve got yellow carnations for disappointment, geranium for stupidity, and petunias for anger-” 

“Those are fine,” Seonghwa said, nodding. 

Hongjoong blinked at the cut-off, taken aback. “You want all three? They may not look very good all together. If you want to fill in with other, smaller flowers…” 

Seonghwa shook his head. “No, it doesn’t matter if it looks good. Just whatever you have is fine. In fact, being ugly might be better.” 

Hongjoong stuttered for a minute before shrugging. “Okay…” He made quick notes on his pad. “Can I… ask who these are for?” he asked, glancing up through his bangs at Seonghwa. “An old ex or something?”

“A friend.” 

Hongjoong frowned, lifting an eyebrow. “A good friend? Or a bad one?”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched, taking away some of the severity that his calm expression sometimes held. “A good one.” 

Hongjoong’s expression cleared in understanding. “Oh! Okay, I get it,” Hongjoong assured him, nodding as he finished scribbling. “Yeah, I used to send my old boss daffodils, which are, uh, ‘unrequited love,’” he snickered. 

Seonghwa’s brow crept up. “Did he love you?”

Hongjoong snorted, shaking his head firmly. “Absolutely not,” he laughed, unable to stop himself at the image of Eden loving him. 

(It was a little icky, but mostly funny.) 

“No, but we were close, and I liked to fuck with him,” Hongjoong assured him, sliding the notepad towards Seonghwa. “Here’s the time and price. Please sign at the bottom. For an extra fee, I can have it done within two hours.” 

Seonghwa signed, paid the extra fee, and even dropped a twenty in Hongjoong’s tip jar. 

Seonghwa smiled, waving goodbye and promising to be back when it was ready. 

Hongjoong stared after him for far too long, smiling quietly, until it faded when Seonghwa was finally gone, leaving Hongjoong alone in the store. 

This… That wasn’t flirting, right? Just because he was supporting Hongjoong’s business- Hell, maybe Seonghwa just felt bad about the rejection.

 But Hongjoong stared at the lone twenty sitting in the empty tip jar, and the order of (frankly, mismatched) flowers… 

Even if it wasn’t flirting, it wasn’t good because Hongjoong was never going to convince his heart to get over a man who tipped that well. 

~~~~~~~~~

Now

Sometimes, Hongjoong thought his life might be a dream.

But then he would glance up one more time, and a man would still be cleaning a sniper on the other half of the table not occupied by his vases and trimmings.

Yeosang meticulously ran a rag over a piece of his gun, holding it up to his eye to peer critically at it. “Something you need?” he asked without looking up when he felt Hongjoong’s eyes on him yet again.

Hongjoong chuckled, returning to his work intertwining wire into a wreath that would soon hold flowers. “Nothing. Just laughing at life.”

Yeosang hummed idly. “Well, life is always laughing at you. Good that you can laugh back.”

“Ooh, philosophical.”

“Is Yeosang being sexy again?”

Somehow, Wooyoung’s voice always traveled faster than light. Because there was no one there when he spoke, but then suddenly he was leaning down and wrapping an arm around Yeosang’s neck, grinning.

Yeosang didn’t even glance at him as he placed the piece down carefully, grabbing his cartridge.

“He’s being philosophical,” Hongjoong said, grabbing another wire and weaving it with practiced fingers.

“Oh, that’s when he’s sexiest,” Wooyoung cackled, looking at Yeosang’s profile.

“I’ll gut you with your own knife.”

Wooyoung snorted. “As if you’d ever pay attention to me long enough to do that,” he huffed, lips pushing out petulantly. “At best, I could hope for a shallow flesh wound.”

Hongjoong’s lips twitched. “You’d still be grateful if he impaled you with a knife.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Well, if he’d not going to impale me with something a bit better-“

Wooyoung suddenly cut off, laughing obnoxiously as he tightened his grip on Yeosang, pressing their faces together. 

Hongjoong had to sit up a bit higher to see the knife in Yeosang’s hand pressed subtly to Wooyoung’s abdomen.

Hongjoong wasn’t entirely sure knives weren’t part of their bedroom life, but it wasn’t really his business as Wooyoung leaned in closer, whispering something in Yeosang’s ear that even Hongjoong couldn’t catch.

He did see Yeosang’s cheek begin to flame, but never saw his real expression because he was suddenly on his feet, the chair falling backwards-

Wooyoung was already running off, and it was a toss up between whether Yeosang would pursue or ignore him.

Hongjoong didn’t know what Wooyoung had said, but it was enough for Yeosang to race after him without hesitation, knife still in hand.

“Oh, shit,” San’s voice said behind him, equal parts amused and horrified. “He must have brought up a kink if Yeosang’s that pissed.”

Hongjoong glanced back at San carrying a box full of folders.

(He’d never known that illegal activities involved so much paperwork.)

“Is the meeting done?” Hongjoong questioned, turning back to adjusting his wires. “That took a while, didn’t it?”

San shrugged, the expression on his face tired but used to the stress that jobs brought. “We’ve been hitting a few snags. Mostly, we were talking about other moles and informants we could use.” He glanced at the wreath in Hongjoong’s hands. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who can infiltrate gangs unnoticed, do you? We pay well...”

Hongjoong snorted, expression serious as he glanced at San. “I infiltrated just fine. Apparently, you just need someone who knows who to flirt like an idiot.”

San made a face of faux realization. “ Sleeping our way in,” he gasped exaggeratedly. “Why didn’t we think of it before?”

“Who’s sleeping around?” Yunho asked, exiting the meeting room curiously.

“We’ll infiltrate gangs by sleeping out way in,” San explained, as if they had just made a major breakthrough. “It’s perfect!”

“Everyone knows our faces, though,” Jongho said, also exiting. “Among the gang, Hongjoong is actually our best bet there. So, I mean, if he’s willing to seduce another gang leader-“

“Can you call leaving a flower ‘seduction’?” San asked, making Hongjoong glared at him. “I mean, apparently gangs like the damsel in distress appearance. And Hongjoong is about as distressed as you can get. So maybe that would be a better angle-“

“Are you discussing whoring out Hongjoong again?” Seonghwa asked, expression pulled down in disapproval, shutting the door behind him.

“Not ‘whoring,’” San defended, grinning. “Infiltrating for the good of the gang.”

“Well, I have to approve every mole we take on,” Seonghwa said, approaching Hongjoong’s table and leaning his hip against it. “And I don’t think we can trust him.” His lips twitched.

Hongjoong’s mouth fell open as he placed his wreath down. “Can’t trust me?” he demanded. “I’ve fooled you for three years now. My acting skills are unparalleled.”

Seonghwa placed a finger to his forehead and pushed it gently. “But you still haven’t figured out how to not act like a baby.”

Before Hongjoong could respond to defend his honor, Yunho snorted. “He only acts like a baby because you treat him like one.”

“No, he kind of needs to be treated like one,” Jongho broke in, arms crossed thoughtfully. “He’s delicate.”

“Like a kid who’s been spoiled,” San added, gesturing pointedly. “He’s never going to learn to fend for himself if you keep holding his hand. He’ll be a baby all his life-“

“I’m no one’s baby!” Hongjoong snapped, stabbing at San with a wire that he dodged, laughing. “I’m older than all of you!”

“Hyung, you cry at cute dogs,” Jongho said flatly.

“So does Yunho!”

“....Okay, he has a point,” San muttered, looking conflicted.

“Enough baby talk,” Seonghwa ordered with a smirk, shaking his head and sighing. “Go do what I told you to do.”

San gave a mock salute. “Let’s hurry guys,” he mock-whispered. “I think we’ve got like thirty seconds before Seonghwa takes him over the table-“

San was not fast enough to dodge Seonghwa’s hand that shot out and grabbed him by the back of the shirt as the other snickered, leaving him at his mercy.

“Hyung!” San begged, staring at him pleadingly, struggling without tearing his shirt. “Hyung, come on- Hyung- You actually did have sex in the office that one time-“

Seonghwa’s expression darkened, and Hongjoong snorted, hiding behind a hand as San fell silent, just staring at Seonghwa and begging to be released.

Seonghwa released him, pushing him forward. “Go mock Yeosang and Wooyoung’s sex life, it’s safer for you.”

“Safer?” San demanded, already walking away, adjusting his shirt. “You hesitate to draw a knife. Yeosang almost took off my fucking ear-“

“Go!” Seonghwa ordered, making San scamper off, giggling to himself.

Seonghwa groaned, rubbing at his eyes as Hongjoong chuckled, standing from his chair and setting his things aside. “It’s exhausting being a father of six, isn’t it?” he asked coyly, stepping up to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at him, and Hongjoong smiled wider, taking one of his hands and holding it idly. “So…” Hongjoong asked slowly, staring at Seonghwa intently. “ Are you planning on… taking me over any surface-“

“Do not start,” Seonghwa groaned, making Hongjoong laugh again, leaning against the table and pulling Seonghwa slightly closer.

“Is your informant situation that stressful?” Hongjoong asked, more sincerely as he wrapped arms around Seonghwa’s waist.

Hongjoong could see the amusement in his expression, but he also saw the tightness around his eyes, lips, and temples that bespoke of the nearly constant weights on his mind.

“It’s just…frustrating,” Seonghwa replied honestly after a moment’s silence, resting his hands on Hongjoong’s hips. “I don’t know where exactly that info leak from last week came from. Unless I can figure out who spilled on us, I may have to cut off all moles and start over.”

Hongjoong was quiet for a moment, pointedly not thinking of the corpse that had stained their carpet for a couple of days before Mingi managed to clean it completely.

Hongjoong knew how difficult it was finding a good mole that you could trust not to double cross you. 

He knew that Seonghwa stressed over this part of their work, especially.

He nodded slowly, rubbing a gentle hand up and down Seonghwa’s side. “You’ll figure it out,” he murmured quietly. “You’re good at that. Just put all of them in a room with Yeosang for five minutes.”

Seonghwa chuckled quietly, looking down at Hongjoong warmly for a moment. “I’m giving myself one more week. I’ll figure it out by then, I promise.”

“Do I look like I feel unsafe?” Hongjoong questioned, gesturing to the little workstation he had set up in order to be in a more secure location than his shop.

Seonghwa hummed, scanning Hongjoong’s face slowly. “You’re good at hiding what you feel, sometimes,” he murmured under his breath, like a secret.

That was true.

But Hongjoong shifted forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Seonghwa’s lips, resting there a moment.

“Never around you,” Hongjoong promised in a quiet murmur.

Never around Seonghwa. Seonghwa had earned the right to all of Hongjoong’s hidden fears and insecurities.

The rest of Ateez had also earned it, but Hongjoong would still hesitate before allowing it to show completely.

Seonghwa was the only person on the planet whom Hongjoong allowed himself to completely drop every act he ever perfected without hesitation. Seonghwa had earned that right.

Because Hongjoong was an act wrapped in a farce, tied up with a neat little bow of deceit. And Seonghwa was the only person he trusted to be with him in every way that made Hongjoong vulnerable.

“So you’re truly not afraid?” Seonghwa asked, sounding slightly skeptical, but mostly sounding sincere. “After last week? You’re still okay even after… what you needed to do?”

It wasn’t uncommon for taking a life to follow Hongjoong for a few days, or longer. And even if Hongjoong still found his mind wandering back to that night… three years made it more of a background emotion, rather than the chilling, paralyzing horror it used to bring. 

Hongjoong shook his head slowly. “At the moment, I’m not scared. And even if I’m still thinking about it… it’s okay. I promise.”

Seonghwa continued to scan his face carefully, looking at all the little details they had learned and memorized. “Okay,” he murmured, brushing some of Hongjoong’s hair that was getting too long out of his eyes. “I’ll try and finish up early, and we’ll go home together.”

Hongjoong chuckled, tilting his head coyly. “And this promise is somehow worth more than the dozens of other nights we’ve stayed here until one A.M. because….?”

Seonghwa quirked his lips as he knocked a knuckle against Hongjoong’s forward. “Because I’m already ready to go home, and I still have more interrogations to oversee.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” Hongjoong demanded, scoffing as he pressed against Seonghwa’s chest. “Go finish so we go home at a decent hour.”

Seonghwa caught the hand that tried to push him away, just drawing them back closer until their noses nearly brushed. “But this is so much more pleasant than talking to those snakes,” he sighed, lips quirked, but the depths of his eyes betraying how much he didn’t want to leave.

Hongjoong smiled regretfully, laying a hand in the crook of Seonghwa’s arm. “The faster you take care of it, the faster we can go home,” he promised.

Seonghwa sighed, but leaned down, placing a brief, warm kiss to Hongjoong’s lips.

Hongjoong hummed, a pleased, warm sound caught in his throat as he pressed closer, but Seonghwa pulled away before it could go any further, smiling tightly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Hongjoong was just as reluctant to let go as Seonghwa was to leave, but he nodded, pulling away as Seonghwa stepped back, shoulders straightening back into intimidating stiffness the further from Hongjoong he got. 

Hongjoong used to think that both he and Seonghwa were inherent actors. But he realized over time that neither side of Seonghwa was an act- merely a separate part of him that he tucked away like a weapon and brought out when needed. He was ruthless and dangerous and swift like a knife… and he was also gentle and kind and loving… They were two sides of a coin that Senoghwa had learned, not acted out. 

Hongjoong on the other hand…

He waved as Seonghwa disappeared down the stairs to the main level.

Hongjoong was just an actor playing a part, most of the time.

~~~~~~~~~

Then

Seonghwa showed up with the bouquet and tossed it onto Wooyoung’s desk, not even pausing as he headed through the main warehouse into his office. 

“ The fuck- ”

He saw Wooyoung stare at the flowers in disgruntled confusion as he stared after Seonghwa. “Seonghwa, what the fuck does this mean?”  

“It means I hate you,” Seonghwa muttered, glaring darkly as he threw open the door to his office. 

Seonghwa managed to sit at his desk before Wooyoung came in, holding up the bouquet with utter confusion painted across his face. “What the fuck, Seonghwa?” 

Seonghwa was already pulling up a correspondence, typing on it roughly, staring at the screen. “It means you’re a disappointment, you’re stupid, and I hate you,” he responded flatly. 

“Well, I knew all that,” Wooyoung said petulantly, stepping inside, still frowning at the flowers. “But what the fuck-” 

He stopped, gasping, and Seonghwa grit his teeth. 

“Holy shit! You actually went back- ”

“Not in the mood, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa muttered, knowing that it was stupid to not just throw the flowers out. 

“Holy- Yeosang!” he called out the door. 

“Wooyoung, do not-” 

“Seonghwa went back to that florist!” Wooyoung yelled gleefully as their resident sharpshooter appeared, frowning in confusion at the flowers. “Seonghwa had him make me a hate bouquet!”

“You can do that?” Yeosang asked, staring at the wrap. “Why didn’t I think of-” 

“Get out,” Seonghwa huffed, glaring at them. “I was simply making sure of something. Hongjoong won’t be-” 

“You got his name? ” Wooyoung demanded, mouth dropping. 

“I knew his name before.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, stiffening. “We’re done with him now.” 

“Now what?” Yeosang asked calmly. “That you realize you’re smitten?”

Seonghwa glared at him, and Wooyoung was practically vibrating while he clutched the bouquet. 

“Holy shit, ” he yelled, looking barely contained. “You’re so fucking gone for him- You’ve met him twice, hyung!” 

“That’s not-” 

Wooyoung’s piercing laughter cut Seonghwa off, the elder glaring at Yeosang pointedly. 

Yeosang considered it for a moment, and then decided that Wooyoung’s laugh was annoying enough as he slung an arm around Wooyoung’s neck and dragged him into a headlock that choked off his cackling. 

“Yeo- Yeo, stop it,” Wooyoung demanded, trying to free himself as he wiggled. 

Yeosang stared at Seonghwa. 

And Seonghwa knew he was in trouble because Wooyoung was loud and annoying and constantly screaming, easy to ignore. 

Yeosang was calculated and deadly. 

“Why did you go back?” Yeosang asked calmly. “We know it wasn’t just to make a bouquet to tell Wooyoung he’s annoying.” 

“You do that everyday anyway,” Wooyoung choked out, tapping Yeosang’s arm as a way of surrender. 

Yeosang released him without looking away from Seonghwa. “Be honest, hyung. You’re interested in him?”

“Whether I’m interested or not is irrelevant,” Seonghwa replied flatly. “I’m never going to see him again after today.” 

“You were supposed to never see him again the first time,” Yeosang replied damningly. “Technically, you shouldn’t have even gone back to reject him.”

Seonghwa’s lips thinned. 

“And it is relevant,” Yeosang continued mercilessly, “because you felt something enough to go back, regardless of whether or not you intend to never see him again after the second time.” 

Seonghwa hadn’t broken any rules, seeing Hongjoong. Technically, dating Hongjoong broke no rules. 

The only rules they followed were to fight, kill, and die for each other. Anyone who endangered the team was swiftly dealt with. So long as Hongjoong didn’t find out anything to endanger the team, no rules were broken. 

But it was easier for everyone if personal lives died off when they joined KQ. Which meant that no matter how startlingly bright Hongjoong’s smile had been, Seonghwa was done. 

It didn’t matter if he was taken completely off guard by his laughter that rang in the shop, light and bright and high- 

Seonghwa was done. 

Why had he gone back to the shop? If asked, he’d say to ensure that Hongjoong was truly a non-threatening force. 

In reality… it was to get the stupid memory of the redhead out of his head. Like listening to a song to get it to stop being stuck in your head. 

“Fuck it- I say go for it, hyung,” Wooyoung said, grinning, earning him a glare from Yeosang. “What?” he demanded, frowning in faux-hurt at Yeosang’s reaction. “Seonghwa’s not an idiot- he knows what he’s risking. If he went back there, it already makes this florist worth more than anyone else he’s ever looked at.” 

“It’s dangerous when we make people worth things,” Yeosang reminded him firmly. “Especially someone normal.” 

“Please,” Wooyoung huffed, rolling his eyes annoyingly. “Our daily dealings are way more dangerous than some civilian.” 

“Maybe you’ve forgotten,” Yeosang replied dryly, “but most normal people aren’t just down with murder and illegal trade. If he found out, he’d most likely call the police before we even finished explaining the complex moral line we walk.” 

“So we kill him.” 

“Did you miss the part where Seonghwa likes him?” Yeosang demanded, looking ready to strangle Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung thought for a moment and blinked. “Oh. Right. Well-” 

“Oh my God, just go!” Seonghwa sighed, waving a rough hand at them with a glare. “Forget that the florist ever existed! It’s over- Get back to work!”

Silence had never been more suffocating. 

Seonghwa locked his office once he was alone, ready to tear his hair out (or shoot two of his personal team. It was still a toss up.). 

Hongjoong was over with. Whatever emotions or feelings Seonghwa might feel were to remain buried. It didn’t matter if Seonghwa spent the next decade thinking of him daily- the interactions were over. 

Until, of course, his informant wanted to meet at the same cafe, just two shops down from Hongjoong’s. 

“Pick a different place,” Seonghwa ordered stiffly, sitting in his car with a tight grip on the wheel. 

“I’ve got a busy schedule, Seonghwa,” Changsun’s slimy voice responded. “I’m in the area. Be here in ten minutes, if you want your info.” 

Seonghwa was three seconds from putting a bullet in several individuals’ heads. 

But he drove to the cafe, sitting outside to avoid the crowd and cameras, facing away from Hongjoong’s shop. 

He didn’t look back even once, watching the door to the cafe as he sipped his coffee. 

A woman walked out, carrying two drink carriers.

A man in a dark suit left while talking on the phone. 

A pair of teenagers entered, chatting obnoxiously. 

A redhead walked out, a sweet looking caramel drink in hand- 

Seonghwa froze. 

Hongjoong glanced around in the bright light as he sipped his drink- 

Their eyes locked as Hongjoong blinked in surprise, and his expression cleared in bright recognition. 

“Seonghwa!” he greeted in surprise, walking over the few feet separating them. “How’s it going?” he asked politely, half-bowing as he approached.  

Seonghwa had two options: shoot Hongjoong or run. 

He did neither, staring at Hongjoong stiffly. “You’re just getting coffee without anyone in your shop?” he asked, voice perhaps a bit cold. His eyes flickered behind Hongjoong for Changsun, who would be here any moment. 

If Hongjoong noticed, he didn’t say anything, grinning in amusement. “It’s Sunday. The shop’s closed.” 

“You just hang out around your shop?”

“I was here this morning doing some inventory,” Hongjoong explained, gesturing to his shop. “I almost had a heart attack when I saw you, I thought I was going crazy,” he laughed, smiling at Seonghwa… clearly waiting for some sort of response. 

Seonghwa stared, jaw tight as he tried to figure out the best course of action. 

Hongjoong’s careless grin faded slightly before righting itself as he straightened. “Uh, well… Oh! How did your friend like the bouquet?”

The conversation had gone too long. Seonghwa straightened. “Fine. Listen, I have some work to get done,” he said stiffly, his glaringly empty table drawing Hongjoong’s attention for a moment. 

He saw Hongjoong’s expression twitch in confusion before clearing, his eyes holding a slight bruise to them. 

Vaguely, Seonghwa wondered what it would take for Hongjoong’s expression to completely fade from that brightness, rather than blipping and righting itself. 

“Right… Right,” Hongjoong said lightly, smiling at the awkward air born from Seonghwa’s harshness. “Well… It was weird seeing you again, but-” 

“I didn’t realize we’d have a crowd…” 

Hongjoong jumped at the sudden body behind him, nearly spilling his drink as he glanced over his shoulder. 

Changsun stood behind him, smiling pleasantly in a way that had Seonghwa’s eyes darkening. 

“Sorry,” Hongjoong muttered, stepping out of his way, glancing at Seonghwa. “Uh, do you two-” 

“Will he be joining us?” Changsun asked, eyes dragging up and down Hongjoong’s frame. “Three’s a bit of a crowd… I didn’t take you as the type to bring friends to work-” 

“He’s some florist from down the way,” Seonghwa said coldly, glaring at Changsun. “Stop playing around. If you’re ready, he was just leaving.” 

Seonghwa didn’t have to look at Hongjoong to see the flash of hurt across his face that was quickly reined in to a tight smile that looked painful. 

Seonghwa still didn’t look. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” Hongjoong said politely, nodding to both of them. “I’ll leave you to your meeting.” 

Without another word, Hongjoong turned and walked away, shoulders stiff and head held in such a way that bespoke of his stung pride at being dismissed. 

“What a man,” Changsun whistled lowly, sitting across from Seonghwa, legs crossing leisurely. “I can see the appeal-” 

“He’s a florist who flirted with me once,” Seonghwa said, not bothering to hide the ice in his voice at all as he glared. “I’ve made it clear that it’s unwelcome. Now, do you have the information or not?” 

Changsun grinned, looking too pleased. “You know, KQ isn’t the only gang that wants the scoop-” 

“No, but KQ is currently the gang holding the largest gun to your head,” Seonghwa snapped under his breath, lips curling in disgust. “So stop playing coy. You wouldn’t be here if you’d had an offer even remotely better than ours.” 

Changsun laughed, slapping the table. “Right you are!” he chuckled, shaking his head. He suddenly glanced over his shoulder where Hongjoong had already disappeared. “But if you’ve got that guy batting for you… maybe I should add him to my price?”

With a flick of his wrist, Seonghwa had the knife pulled from his ankle and pressed to the inside of Changsun’s thigh, hidden beneath the table. 

“I don’t appreciate when people try and change negotiations,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath darkly. 

Changsun didn’t look nervous, knowing that there was little Seonghwa could get away with in such a public place. But he did tighten his jaw, showing his displeasure. Which was practically a sign of submission from someone like Changsun. 

“Sheesh, sensitive,” he huffed, carefully lifting the knife away. “Whatever. I talked to a guard at the south port. Shipment’s coming tomorrow, instead of Tuesday.” 

Even after Changsun left, Seonghwa glanced towards the florist shop, like Hongjoong might actually be there to check on. 

Shaking his head, Seonghwa cursed under his breath and left, intending to never return to that side of town ever. 

He didn’t care if Changsun did turn over to another gang, Seonghwa could not afford to ever show his face around here again. 

Chapter Text

Now

Hongjoong was sitting on Seonghwa’s desk.

Was he supposed to be? No. Seonghwa got twitchy when things entered into his space, even if that thing was Hongjoong, sometimes.

But Hongjoong was finished with his work, and Seonghwa was finally finished plugging the info leak (Hongjoong had long since got over pretending not to see the blood on Seonghwa’s clothes when he got home). 

And Hongjoong didn’t feel like going back to the shop or going home. He hadn’t been able to see Seonghwa much lately, and he liked just being able to sit with him. 

So, he was sitting on Seonghwa’s desk, legs dangling off the end as he ran through emails and schedules, humming to himself as the familiar rhythm of Seonghwa typing ran in the background.

Hongjoong had learned to love these moments. When nothing was currently wrong, and even if they weren’t actively conversing or on top of each other… it was quiet and calm, and Seonghwa’s presence was quiet and calm behind him.

Hongjoong smiled quietly in contentment.

There was a knock on the door, making Hongjoong glance up, though Seonghwa didn’t move.

“Come in,” he called without looking up from his computer.

Hongjoong kept his phone up, but watched as a man he’d never seen before entered. (Which wasn’t uncommon. Hongjoong had very little interaction with members of KQ outside of Ateez.)

Hongjoong was silent as the man entered and bowed. Seonghwa spared him barely a glance. “Doyeon,” he greeted casually. “You were successful?”

Doyeon nodded respectfully. “I was able to gain the information you wanted.”

Seonghwa hummed, his hands pausing on the keyboard.

Hongjoong waited.

Doyeon was silent.

Seonghwa glanced up, a stern brow raising. “Are you waiting for an invitation to share?” he asked.

Doyeon was still, his eyes flickering over to Hongjoong for barely a moment. “I simply wanted to make sure I was free to speak.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you to if you weren’t.”

“Sir, isn’t this a slightly sensitive matter?” Doyeon asked, hands stiff by his sides.

Hongjoong frowned slightly, lowering his phone into his lap slowly. 

“It is,” Seonghwa replied crisply, turning away from his computer with slight annoyance on his face. “Which is why I’m wondering why you’re hesitating.”

There was the hint of a threat there, and Doyeon straightened slightly. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He inclined his head deeply. “I contacted Hyondae, and by all accounts, it seems as if there is no connection between the shipments and his organization. He’s agreed to rendezvous with Gongtae, to honor his favor to us.”

Hongjoong was staring at Doyeon, expression passive and blank, and so he caught the way the man glanced up through his bangs at Hongjoong, lips stiff.

“Excellent,” Seonghwa said, already turning back to his computer. “I’m glad we were finally able to convey that rather simple statement. You’re dismissed.” 

Wisely, Doyeon said nothing else, simply bowing once more before leaving.

Hongjoong met the man’s eyes as he threw his gaze over him once more while leaving, closing the door behind himself firmly.

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on his phone, even as he picked it up again, staring at it interestedly, though nothing interesting was on the screen.

“He was talking about me, you know,” he murmured, scrolling mindlessly through emails he had already read and responded to, just so he didn’t have to lift his head.

“Of course he was talking about you,” Seonghwa replied passively, still absorbed in his screen. “He’s an idiot.”

Hongjoong paused, taking a slow breath, lifting his eyes from his phone to glance at Seonghwa. “Is what he said good news?”

“For us, it is,” Seonghwa replied absently, leaning in to his screen. “It means we have more allies than I was beginning to fear. I’ll need to arrange a meeting and set up a correspondence with-“

Hongjoong felt something pooling in his stomach. Almost like a stomachache. He cleared his throat, hopping down from the desk. “I’m going to get something to eat,” he told Seonghwa, walking towards the door.

He heard Seonghwa’s chair shift. “You’re upset…”

Hongjoong stopped, glancing back at Seonghwa who had finally was turned away from the screen, staring after Hongjoong with quietly concerned eyes. 

Hongjoong smiled back quietly, the action a bit harder than he was expecting. “I’m not upset.”

“You are,” Seonghwa pressed, standing slowly. “Did he upset you-“

“I’m not upset,” Hongjoong pushed, laughing quietly, smiling wider. “I just got hungry all of a sudden-“

“Hongjoong.”

It wasn’t a warning. Not even really a plea. Just a reminder that Seonghwa knew him better than that.

Hongjoong wasn’t upset- at least, he didn’t think so. He just felt… a little cramped.

Hongjoong never really liked interacting with people outside of Seonghwa’s personal team. The rest of their organization saw him, of course- he was always tailing Seonghwa or the others- but Hongjoong never interacted with them but as a silent figure standing by while Seonghwa spoke, standing in the background.

Yunho assured him that everyone in KQ knew who he was to Seonghwa. Gossip was powerful, even in gangs.

And Hongjoong was not oblivious to the eyes that followed him around as he trailed after the others, all of them always flanking him in a subtle wall. 

No one was under any sort of mistaken impression of what the men labeled Hongjoong as.

But no one had ever spoken to him, much less touched him. But in the beginning, Hongjoong remembered several moments when someone stared a bit too long, too threatening, too… whatever.

Out of courtesy, Seonghwa’s team waited until Hongjoong was out of the room and upstairs before putting a bullet in a kneecap, asking if anyone else had anything to look at.

Hongjoong fought it, at first, telling Seonghwa he didn’t need to do something like that- the thought of it making Hongjoong sick to his stomach.

Seonghwa had assured Hongjoong that it was the only language people like this understood. If he merely yelled, beat them, glared threateningly- it wouldn’t do a damn thing.

Seonghwa’s leadership had always had a specific M.O.: hit first, hit hard, hit fast.

Preemptive action was Seonghwa’s trademarks- kill first to ensure the safety of the gang, ask questions later.

Hongjoong had learned to value and understand that.

It was not the first time a man had looked at Hongjoong as if he was nothing but a desk ornament meant to look pretty. And Hongjoong had long since stopped being affected by the leering anger and lecherous stares that followed him.

He was allowed to come and go on his own, it was simply easier to know one of Ateez was with him. But, their presence wasn’t really needed, since KQ was well aware of the fact that even glancing at Hongjoong wrong got you a violent reminder to lower your eyes. 

No one would dare do a single fucking thing, so Hongjoong held no fear. Only a vague distaste in his stomach when he had to pass too close to a regular member of the gang.

Or… maybe a vague cramping sensation at being looked at like he was nothing but an insect sitting where he didn’t belong. 

But Hongjoong knew that those sensations simply needed to be walked off. 

“I’m fine,” he assured Seonghwa, hoping to look reassuring, and not still vaguely ill. “Really, I think I’m just feeling sick from not eating all day.”

Seonghwa’s jaw was still tense, eyes boring into Hongjoong intently, something waiting in his expression, like he wanted to say something.

“Take San with you,” Seonghwa requested, visibly backing down, finally relinquishing. “He’ll drive you somewhere.”

Hongjoong didn’t bother insisting he didn’t need it, simply nodding. “Where is he?” he asked, hands twisting together slowly.

“He should be down at the first level, near the east warehouse,” Seonghwa told him, voice gentler than a moment ago, expression softening at Hongjoong’s attempts to convince him everything was fine.

Seonghwa never believed him easily, even when Hongjoong was completely fine.

Hongjoong merely nodded, offering Seonghwa one more fond smile before leaving.

Seonghwa stared after him, clearly not believing Hongjoong… but he nodded, his face the sort of one when he knew what the right decision was, but didn’t want to do it.

He knew that he should give Hongjoong space. But he wanted to press for what was wrong.

Nothing was wrong, Hongjoong didn’t think. Certainly nothing that would cause issue with Seonghwa.

He just needed some air. A little space to clear his head, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what was muddlingit. 

He offered a casual wave as he exited the office, crossing the empty upper level lounge and heading down the stairs to the first floor, running a hand through his hair a few times.

He just needed to get some air. He’d been spending a lot of time in the base, so he was probably just getting a little cooped up.

The main room of the first floor was nothing but crates and storage lining the walls, with a few pieces of heavy machinery in the center, accented with a few tables here and there with weapons laid out for people to examine or use.

Milling around the boxes were common thugs- some as young as teenagers, and some clearly much older than even Seonghwa. There were maybe twenty of them spread out across the open floor, sitting on boxes and chatting, or cleaning weapons as they discussed one thing or another.

Illegal work was actually quite a lot of paperwork and sitting around. 

Hongjoong had gotten good at simply walking through these lower ranks, not even bothering to glance at who was there or what they were doing- focused on the door at the opposite end that would lead to the entryway for the warehouse.

Hongjoong did not fear these people.

Mostly because he knew he could not be touched. It had taken several firm reminders from Seonghwa, but Hongjoong knew very well his place among these men.

Which was above.

Seonghwa and his team walked a thin moral line. And while Seonghwa laid a blanket of those morals on his whole gang, the personal desires of these lower ranks were much more… cruel than Ateez’s taste. 

These were the sort of men who like to bathe in blood because it was pretty. 

The kind of man Seonghwa had worked so hard to assure Hongjoong he was not. Seonghwa was different. 

Walking purposefully through the lower level was already doing wonders for the discomfort in his blood, clearing it away as he moved. He took a large breath that was already easier than the last few. 

Maybe he could convince San to have them walk to lunch… Maybe that’s what it was. Hongjoong hadn’t been moving around very much lately.

Maybe he should take to the gym on the first floor of their apartment-

“-boss is fucking crazy. He even let his fucking whore sit in on the meeting.”

 Hongjoong froze, his steps jerking to a hard stop, eyes fixed ahead in a moment of paralyzing shock.

A group of maybe five men laughed raucously, jeering and jostling the one complaining. 

“Seriously!” Doyeon burst, the sound of a crate scratching against the concrete floor. “Listen- I understand that good sex is good sex, but Boss must be planning on offing this guy once he’s done. Whore’s got way too much info. He’s free to just wander into places we can’t even go! God knows what he’s seen!”

More jeering, laughter, and calls for him to stop being so sensitive-

“Just admit that you’re butthurt because the boss didn’t tell his toy to get lost,” one man laughed, the sound of a punch echoing through the air, creating another roar of laughter and calls.

Hongjoong slowly turned towards the conversation, a group of five sitting on crates near the closest wall. Doyeon was on his feet, a man at his feet rubbing his jaw, though they were all grinning like bastards.

Well, Doyeon looked murderous, but it faded from his face as he kicked at the man absently, chuckling to himself as he shook his head, receiving pats on the shoulder as he sighed.

“Must be good at his job, though,” Doyeon muttered, picking up a knife from a box and flipping it around in his hand before throwing it down to imbed in the wooden crate.

More disgusting cheers.

“You’ve seen how close the boss keeps the little bitch,” Doyeon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe any toy’s worth enough to keep around that long. He’s been here since before I got here- What? Five months? What whore is worth five months? ”

“Boss has only ever had one guy,” one of them said firmly. “I was here two years ago, and that guy was still glued to Boss’s side.” 

Doyeon gagged, making them all laugh. “All I’m saying is that if the sex is that good, the boss could at least share,” he muttered, disgruntled. “I mean, we’re all working hard! At least pass him around like a good whore should-“

Do you think anyone but me would sleep with a whore like you?

“ Say another fucking word! ”  

All five men jumped, turning quickly, eyes widening-

Hongjoong didn’t remembered grabbing a handgun from the crate beside him, but it was held in both hands that did not shake as he glared murderously across the fifteen feet that separated him from those fucking-

Doyeon’s expression shifted slowly from shock to something calmer. As if he realized there was a gun pointed at him…

But apparently didn’t think it was a big enough threat to be concerned with.

Hongjoong’s knuckles went white on the gun. “Say another fucking word, I dare you,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Wandering around without your leash on?” Doyeon asked, eyes dark with anger.

The other four men… apparently had learned lessons better than Doyeon had, their eyes wide with fear as one of them tugged on Doyeon’s shirt frantically, but the taller man shoved them off, not taking his eyes off of Hongjoong.

It wasn’t Hongjoong the other men feared. They didn’t know a thing about him.

No, but they knew what Seonghwa would do. Doyeon, apparently, did not understand that yet.

The others may think him just a whore, but at least they knew that Seonghwa had done worse things than kill for his whore.

Hongjoong cocked the gun, feeling it click in his hands. “I’m going to give you ten seconds to apologize, because I’m reasonable,” he muttered lowly, through gritted teeth. “Or I’m going to put a bullet through your knee.”

Doyeon barked a loud laugh, arms crossing over his chest. “You think because you pick up a gun, you’re a threat?” His expression lost its amusement. “Do you even know what that gun is called, sweetheart?”

The endearment made Hongjoong’s stomach roll, lips curling in visible disgust.

“No,” he replied calmly. “I don’t.”

Doyeon crumpled with a scream when Hongjoong’s bullet pierced his knee.

Hongjoong didn’t flinch. 

Every other man scrambled back, not quite shaking, but raising their hands as if in defense, like it might stop a bullet.

Hongjoong stared at the man on the ground coldly, lowering his gun slowly. He glared at the others. “Anyone else have something to say to the fucking whore?” he spat, his stomach threatening to throw up all the food he hadn’t eaten.

He knew the answer was no by the pallor on their faces that was barely masking the utter disbelief as Doyeon continued to scream with hands wrapped around his bloodied, broken knee.

Hongjoong tossed the gun back onto the crate, expression cold and dead as he turned on his heel.

“Shut him up,” he muttered as he continued to storm through the building.

Doyeon’s screams became muffled as Hongjoong walked as swiftly as the wind through the building, seeing every other man staring at him in either blank shock or slight fear.

All of them kept their distance.

Hongjoong shoved the door to the warehouse section open, and San was already waiting.

“Hey, Seonghwa gave me a call to take you-“

San’s bright greeting faded at Hongjoong’s stony expression as the other walked right passed him without even glancing at him.

“Hongjoong?” San asked, following after him quickly. “What’s with the face? What happened?”

Hongjoong felt like something inside of himself was shaking. But the anger in his blood fueled the stone in his expression enough that it did not break.

“Take me home,” he tried to snap, but it came out far weaker than he expected, breathy and almost desperate.

It was still plenty angry.

“Home?” San asked, jogging to keep up as they exited into the sunlight of outside, Hongjoong making a straight line for the car parked there. “Seonghwa told me to get you something to eat- What happened? Did you two fight or something?”

Hongjoong tried to open the back door, but it was locked. He continued pulling on it, silently signaling for San to unlock it, but when he tugged the fifth time and it still didn’t open, he turned with a muted glare.

Hongjoong couldn’t turn his full anger on San.

Not when he was standing, expression concerned and gentle as he stared at Hongjoong sadly, as if Hongjoong was breaking his heart.

“What happened?” San asked quietly, both of them standing a few feet apart in a stalemate. “Was it Seonghwa? Do I need to go talk to him?”

People had done enough talking.

Hongjoong almost tried to snap at him, or dismiss him with nothing more than another demand to take him home. He knew that San, more than most, wouldn’t press the issue if Hongjoong asked him not to.

But he also knew… that that wasn’t fair.

Sometimes Hongjoong wished it wasn’t all an act. That he could actually learn how to harden his heart enough to stop feeling so much for every single person.

“I’m feeling like shit,” Hongjoong muttered, turning away so he didn’t have to see San’s eyes soften in concern.

Crying was not a fucking option right now.

“I’m hungry, but I’m tired and feel sick, and I don’t feel like being around people right now.” None of it was a lie. Hongjoong stared at the door handle, jaw flexing. “Please… just take me home.”

There was still a stiffness to his voice, still an anger there, but there was nothing even remotely threatening about it.

He heard the car door unlock, pulling the door open without a thank you as he slid in, closing it roughly.

San, bless his fucking heart, drove through some fast food place anyway, passing the bag back to Hongjoong without so much as glancing at him.

(Which was good because Hongjoong couldn’t guarantee he wasn’t already crying.)

Hongjoong numbly ate some fries until San pulled up in front of the apartment building, Hongjoong immediately opening the door-

“Hongjoong.”

He froze, but didn’t glance back at San.

“Was it something Seonghwa did?” he asked carefully. “Does he know you’re home right now?”

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on the door handle, pursing his lips. “It’s nothing Seonghwa did,” he muttered. “I didn’t tell him I was going home.”

Another moment of silence. “You’re not usually this upset, unless Seonghwa is involved somehow…” It was merely an inquiry, an implied statement of support, if something was wrong.

A request for honesty.

Well, technically, Seonghwa was involved, but he wasn’t the one calling Hongjoong a whore and asking for a turn.

Honestly, Hongjoong might have been willing to transcribe the whole event to San, but he didn’t think his voice and composure were going to last long enough to get through it.

So, he shook his head slowly. “It wasn’t Seonghwa,” he assured him. “I’ve just been feeling shitty all day.”

“… Okay,” San replied quietly. “Call us if you need anything. And I’ll… I’ll let Seonghwa know I dropped you off… okay?”

Part of Hongjoong wanted to request secrecy because the likelihood of Seonghwa dropping everything and running to Hongjoong was pretty big. But, Hongjoong also felt very hollow and cold inside, and part of him wanted to slam the door closed and tell San to take him back to Seonghwa.

But… he wanted to be alone right now.

“I can…make sure he gives you some space?” San offered carefully.

It had actually been Wooyoung who told Hongjoong that their team had needed to learn how to act around him.

Because Hongjoong was normal. He wasn’t made of toughened leather that was laid over steel and concrete, unbreakable. He wasn’t used to their exact brand of openness, and while Hongjoong was a very open person, he’d befuddled them a bit with how little he demanded things.

In their lives, you demanded what you wanted, or you were never going to get it.

Hongjoong was someone who felt bad about asking them to stop by an art store so he could get supplies, despite the fact that Seonghwa had already told them to do that.

He was easy to get along with, Wooyoung assured him, grinning. And he was fun and not too sensitive, and even if he wasn’t made of toughened leather, he wasn’t made of glass, either.

But Hongjoong was weird. Because sometimes, he wanted to be alone, and he wouldn’t voice it right away. Or he wanted something, and he didn’t find the words to say it for a long time.

Basically, Hongjoong was a normal human being, but it had been a long time since Ateez or anyone in KQ had interacted with someone like that.

So, San’s tentative offer to keep Seonghwa at bay was very much appreciated, coming from someone who still couldn’t fathom why Hongjoong couldn’t just nod and ask San right out to keep Seonghwa away for now.

But Hongjoong was so grateful that they learned how to offer.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong said in response, still not looking back at San. “Tell him I’m okay, I’m just… tired. I’m going to be taking a nap.”

“Sure thing… Call us if you need anything,” he offered again. “And… I mean it- anything, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong swallowed the emotions threatening to choke him as he nodded. “I know… Thanks,” he murmured genuinely before getting out and closing the car door.

One thing Hongjoong had long since gotten used to in his life was the fact that he was a crier. According to his parents, he had been one since he was a child. But he was never a loud crier.

“You never cried for attention,” his mom had laughed when he was younger. “You cried for every little thing, but you never wanted anyone to know you were. You just… locked it away until you let it out.” 

When he was a baby, it was silent tears and quiet whimpers, hiding his face, even as his mom cooed and asked what was wrong.

And later on in life…

Well, later on, it was just probably for the best that silent crying wasn’t a skill he’d had to learn. 

So Hongjoong’s didn’t try and stop the tears burning the backs of his eyes once the door of their apartment closed.

Despite the number of times it had been violated by those other gangs, despite the number of times Hongjoong had nearly died in this penthouse… This was a safe space.

Hongjoong glanced over the array of flowers littered across the surfaces, placed into slender glass cups and vibrantly colored vases that Seonghwa cought for them. Different, familiar bouquets filled with all their favorite flowers. 

And the flowers that meant the most to them. 

He didn’t pause and break down. He stood in a bit of a haze for a moment, his mind feeling staticky as tears blurred his vision.

He was actually grateful for the white noise that kept any echoes or dark whispers in his head at bay.

Hongjoong knew his home like the back of his hand, and it didn’t matter that he could barely see through the tears as he walked through the spacious kitchen and open living room.

His hand traveled over the different petals, feeling their smooth, delicate texture comfortingly as he passed by no less than three full sized bouquets sitting on tables and stands. 

A gloxinia arrangement that Hongjoong had put together one night while waiting for Seonghwa to come home. 

Love at first sight. 

(It hadn’t exactly been love at first sight, but Hongjoong figured there was at least some form of destiny involved.)

A cluster of viscarias, multitudes of colors blending together, that Hongjoong had arranged a week ago when he’d been feeling flirty after Seonghwa kept texting how much he missed him. 

Will you dance with me? 

(Hongjoong had been mortified when Seonghwa actually insisted on dancing around the living room to no music, with Hongjoong’s beet red face pressed to his shoulder.)

He paused by the final bouquet before their bedroom, staring through blurred vision at the simple bouquet of red azaleas that were beginning to wither into brown. 

This bouquet… Seonghwa had ordered for Hongjoong, almost two weeks ago now. Prom season was always busy, and Hongjoong had spent days at the shop, stressing over a delayed order. 

The delivery he got one afternoon was not the roses he needed, but, rather, a cluster of red azaleas with no card to go with it. 

Hongjoong had cried a bit as he stared at them, hugging them to his chest. 

Take care of yourself for me. 

Hongjoong tore his eyes away from them, finally rubbing at the tears that just replaced themselves as bittersweet pain tugged at his chest. 

He finally made it into their bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

Hongjoong didn’t sob, but he didn’t wipe the tears away, either. It wasn’t soul-crushing to cry like this. It almost felt therapeutic, no matter how much it hurt.

The bed called out to him on one side of the room, but the half-ajar bathroom door also reminded him of how tangled and knotted he felt inside.

Still letting all his silent tears fall free, Hongjoong turned on the bath, sitting on the tub and simply staring at his hands that tears dripped onto and slid off of.

Hongjoong was not… ignorant. At least, not in every way. Maybe he didn’t know much about gangs or fighting or the dark underbelly of the world… but he knew insults and slurs and being looked down on.

And he knew that no matter what was said, no one was going to see the “man” with a gang leader’s boss as anything more than a stress relieving form of pleasure. Because they were gang members. They were the dirt of the city, and dirt did not make emotional connections.

Dirt did not fall in love and commit themselves to one person. To them, Seonghwa being in a committed relationship was as inconceivable as ever leaving the lives they had chosen. It simply was not an option in their brains that Hongjoong could ever be more than that.

Hongjoong knew this.

But hearing it… hearing verbal proof that with each appearance he made at the base, each time he was seen with Seonghwa… Nobody but eight people in all the world thought him to be more than just a really good fuck.

And more than anything… that made Hongjoong feel… very alone.

But he wanted to be alone right now.

His hands shook a bit with the memory of cold metal in them. Hongjoong wasn’t cruel. He didn’t use the skills they had taught him for anything but self-defense when there was no other option. 

Bullets were reserved for those men who pointed guns at Hongjoong, who put knives to his skin, who held real and dangerous weapons to him. 

Not for a new guy with a loud mouth. Nonlethal words were not a reason to shoot a man. And guilt crawled into Hongjoong’s heart, even if the leftover anger kept it from hurting too badly. 

If Doyeon had talked about Hongjoong in literally any other capacity… Hongjoong knew he wouldn’t have actually shot him. Probably would have even just kept walking without ever acknowledging him. 

Hongjoong wanted to be alone right now, as guilt and anger warred in his veins. 

(Hongjoong slid into the steaming bath once it was done filling, sitting in silence that was only broken by the slow drip drip of the faucet into the almost-too-hot bath.)  

He wanted to be alone. 

Because if Seonghwa showed up, then Hongjoong would fall into his arms and bury himself in Seonghwa’s presence, and Seonghwa would hold him until all the tears had run dry, never leaving his side until Hongjoong was okay-

And Hongjoong… Hongjoong would latch onto his comfort as he buried the crux of his issues deep inside his head where he’d never think of them until something else brought them forward.

If he called Seonghwa here now, Hongjoong would merely be debauching in an alcohol meant to cover a wound, not heal it. Ignoring it, hoping it might go away, even though he knew from experience that it didn’t. 

So Hongjoong sat in solitude, staring at his knees as he moved his arms slowly through the water that smelled like roses.

The bathtub was huge. Hongjoong wasn’t even sure he’d ever been inside of it without Seonghwa pressed behind him. But rather than his presence, he had the cold porcelain of the giant tub to make him shiver.

Numbly, Hongjoong scrubbed himself with bubbles, washed his hair with his good shampoo, and took several minutes to just sit and regulate his breathing until it no longer felt like he was going to either shatter or hit something.

The scents of the bathroom were calming- smelling like his and Seonghwa’s scents mingling like they did on their bedsheets.

Hongjoong rested his head against his knees firmly, closing his eyes.

“He’s gone,” Hongjoong murmured. “And he can’t touch me.”

He rose from the tub, draining it as he put on nothing more than a robe after drying off, leaving his hair to drip while he padded out of the bathroom onto the plush carpet.

Hongjoong was not haunted by any ghosts of his past.

“I’m better than I was,” he whispered firmly.  

However… he was visited by them in the most inconvenient ways. And like any unwanted guest, Hongjoong drew himself up to tell them to leave. But it was like an unwanted guest with a bad scent.

Even once it was gone… something still lingered behind until enough time had passed to clear it away completely.

He laid in the bed, his chest feeling less knotted than before. He stared at the empty other half, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, focusing on the calm that came from the familiar environment. 

This was familiar now. 

This was his normal. 

Things had been different for so long, and they were never going to go back to the way they were. 

Hongjoong was happier here than he had been in his entire life. Far, far away from his past and his fear. 

And that was the thought that Hongjoong repeated to himself as emotional exhaustion pulled him into peaceful sleep. 

Hongjoong slept long and hard, only coming back to awareness when he felt the bed dip behind him.

Familiar arms wrapped around him, pulling him back into Seonghwa’s chest as the other buried his face gingerly in Hongjoong’s neck, the tension in every part of Seonghwa’s body making it clear the sort of concern that was probably eating him alive.

The anger and guilt had been quieted by sleep, but Hongjoong felt another little prick of regret for not contacting Seonghwa at all- just running off and probably worrying him sick. Bound to the base by Hongjoong’s request for space. 

Hongjoong didn’t move, though, still too tired and out of it, even when Seonghwa pressed a warm kiss to the back of Hongjoong’s neck, a certain dampness dripping onto Hongjoong’s skin.

Whether Seonghwa knew he was awake or not, he pressed gentle kiss after gentle kiss to the curve of Hongjoong’s neck and trailing over his shoulder.

With sleep, the unwanted guest had been effectively dealt with and banished… so Hongjoong sank guilt-free into Seonghwa’s embrace, already drifting back into sleep with the extra reminder of just how far from his past he was. Of just how close everything he loved was. 

“I love you,” Seonghwa whispered, voice the kind of hoarse that only came when something was breaking his heart.

Hongjoong was already tipping over back into unconsciousness, wrapped in the familiar.

Because no matter how many unwanted guests… no matter the dangers and the horrible whispers and the whore that everyone in the world could only see him as…

Nowhere did he feel safer and more loved than in Seonghwa’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~

Then

Hongjoong wasn’t one to hold onto things. 

Grudges were pretty easy to let go, and he wasn’t one to become bitter towards people. Usually, if something bad enough was done, he would just cut the person from his life and move on. 

But… he was still human. And Seonghwa’s blatant dismissal… as if Hongjoong were suddenly an inconvenience… 

Hongjoong then realized that maybe… maybe Seonghwa had just been being nice. Pitying the guy who had the guts to flirt with him, but not… not even looking for some sort of halfway friendly relationship. Not even willing to make small talk with the desperate guy with the flowers. 

Hongjoong hadn’t exactly been planning for the two of them to be friends, but he wanted to show that there were truly no hard feelings… 

Maybe Seonghwa did have hard feelings. 

And then that man showed up…

Hongjoong didn’t know if he was somehow an embarrassment to Seonghwa or something, but the dismissal… it hurt. 

Mostly because Hongjoong was still very much not moved on from the other. 

And even as he stared at his final bouquet of the day, expression crestfallen and his chest hollow… Hongjoong was still smarting, playing the scene over and over in his head. 

“He was just leaving.” 

Could you possibly find a harsher way to tell someone to fuck off? 

Actually, being told to fuck off would have hurt less, because at least then Seonghwa would have acknolwedged him, rather than dismissing him like some annoying fly that wasn’t even worth looking at. 

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing at his eyes as he put the bouquet up, locking up and turning off the lights to the shop. He dragged his feet as he walked out into the dark street, glancing around for any taxis passing by. 

Maybe he should just take the subway… 

Sighing as he rubbed at his temples, Hongjoong made his way down the street, passing the cafe and not looking over as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

Hongjoong really knew how to pick every shitty guy out of a crowd, huh? His track record was batting a fucking hundred. 

Stupid… Stupid pretty boys who secretly have shit personalities. 

Stupid Hongjoong for taking a chance. 

Stupid life for being stupid. 

He made it to a less well-lit intersection, waiting at the crosswalk even though no cars were on the little road. He rolled his head back, towards the sky- only a single streetlamp on each street corner giving light to see by. 

He just needed to forget about it. 

It had been a week and a half- how pathetic could you get, still holding on to something  like that? He’d been rejected right out, somehow read a business transaction as potential interest, and then inserted himself back into Seonghwa’s space without invitation. 

Yeah, Hongjoong would probably send a harsh message, too, if a creep he didn’t know kept clinging to a stupid crush. 

Hongjoong groaned in frustration, angry at himself as he stared across at the cross light that was still red- 

He froze as he caught sight of someone standing at the other corner, just out of the lamp light across the street, leaving most of him in shadow.

Well, that looked shifty as fuck. Hongjoong had no plans of getting mugged in a back alley.

Hongjoong squinted, trying to see if the person actually looked dangerous. But he froze when, through the dim shadows, he recognized the thick coat, swept hair, and tense expression. 

No fucking way. 

Seonghwa was clearly talking on the phone, his voice inaudible from the distance, looking agitated and angry as he ran a hand through his hair, gesturing with it in annoyance at whoever was on the phone. 

For a moment, Hongjoong felt like calling out to him. Or approaching him, something. 

At first, to ask what he’d done to annoy him, before. And then, to just smack the man for humoring Hongjoong, only to cast him aside without warning. 

Like, the guy couldn’t just tell him outright that he wasn’t interested in ever seeing Hongjoong again? He couldn’t just ask Hongjoong to stop talking to him? Because to Hongjoong, staying friendly with people was just expected. 

And now Hongjoong was torn between anger and hurt as the light turned green. 

Hongjoong stepped off the sidewalk, knowing that this was about to be an awkward passing of strangers. 

He made it a single step before Seonghwa, seemingly not noticing that the light had changed, frustratedly adjusted his coat as he talked, throwing a flap back, as if to cool himself off. 

The coat fluttered backwards to reveal his white dress shirt and dark slacks, and Hongjoong very clearly saw a little black gun strapped to his waist, stark against the white of his dress shirt. 

Hongjoong stumbled. 

He froze, so startled by the object, staring even harder, sure that it was just some weird phone case or something- 

The coat fell back into place, but Hongjoong was still staring with wide eyes in the middle of the street. 

That couldn’t be real, right? Where would he even get one? 

He… He hadn’t always had it, right? Or had Hongjoong been talking with him- flirting with him- while he was armed with a fucking gun- 

Seonghwa finally turned in such a way that he caught sight of Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s entire body freezing as their eyes locked. 

Hongjoong wasn’t sure what the expression on his own face was, but it was enough that Seonghwa lowered the phone from his ear slowly, staring at Hongjoong like he was trying to decipher what he was thinking. What he knew. 

Hongjoong’s eyes unconsciously flickered to his hip, the gun perfectly hidden away- 

Seonghwa’s hand fell to his hip suddenly, almost protective as dark eyes stared at Hongjoong from across the street- 

Hongjoong ran. Turned on his heel and sprinted the other way so fast, he nearly tripped over the curb. 

It wasn’t quite… fear in his chest. It was more like a numb ice because he didn’t know what was going to happen to him. Would Seonghwa shoot him? 

Hongjoong had very clearly seen something he wasn’t supposed to, and his brain was frantically trying to decide if he should run for help, call the police, hide- 

Hongjoong was aiming for the safety of his shop, but before he’d even made it the more well-lit street, an arm was around his waist and a hand was covering his mouth tightly- 

Hongjoong barely even had the thought process to scream as he simply froze as strong arms dragged him backwards into the small alley between shops- 

Okay. Now, it was fear in Hongjoong’s chest. The kind of fear he’d never felt before. 

They were enveloped in darkness as Hongjoong was slammed roughly into the brick wall, Seonghwa’s face suddenly only an inch from his- dark, dangerous eyes staring at Hongjoong’s terrified ones as his knees shook. 

The hand over his mouth remained firmly, the two of them practically blending in with the wall for how close they were pressed. 

Hongjoong was breathing frantically, but not a noise escaped his mouth as he stared at Seonghwa, silent tears beginning already forming in his eyes. 

Seonghwa’s face didn’t twitch, glaring at Hongjoong dangerously. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured lowly, barely a whisper into the space between them. “But if you fight me, I’m not going to have a choice. Understand?” 

It sounded like a threat, and Hongjoong’s vision blurred as he nodded as best he could against Seonghwa’s hand practically smothering him. 

“What did you see?” Seonghwa demanded quietly, dark and looming over Hongjoong dangerously. 

The fingers covering his mouth parted barely enough for sound to escape, still tensed and prepared to snap closed, if Hongjoong made a scene. 

Strangely enough, having a clearly stronger, armed man pressing him to an alley wall was enough to make Hongjoong not want to fight. 

“G-Gun,” he whispered hoarsely, not really able to articulate an answer aside from that. 

“Are you going to call the police on me, Hongjoong?” Seonghwa asked, almost a bit… taunting. As if he didn’t actually believe that Hongjoong was capable of doing it. 

And he was correct. 

Hongjoong shook his head minutely, blood still icy in his veins as he stared at Seonhwa’s intent eyes- 

He couldn’t quite tell what emotions were held within them. They were hard and dangerous, but didn’t seem… particularly angry. 

“Are you… going to shoot me?” Hongjoong breathed, voice shaking and chest stuttering against the arm across it. 

Probably not the smartest question, but Hongjoong’s attention was currently focused on staying alive, and if Seonghwa was just going to kill him anyway, then he’d rather take his chances with screaming. 

How the fuck had Hongjoong managed to flirt with the one fucking psychopath in his area? 

But Seonghwa’s eyes flickered across Hongjoong’s face slowly, as if trying to read into something, trying to notice something, trying to decide… 

Hongjoong held his breath. 

“That depends,” Seonghwa murmured, glancing Hongjoong up and down slowly. More analytical than creepy. “Common sense says I should…” 

Hongjoong tensed, swallowing thickly- 

“But…” He stared Hongjoong in the eye, intent and dark. “I’d really rather not have to kill you, Hongjoong… Especially for something that wasn’t your fault.” 

It still… almost sounding like a threat? The words were almost comforting, but the tone was still… chilling. 

Hongjoong felt sick. “Are you going to kill me or not?” he breathed, pressing further into the wall to put another centimeter of distance between them. 

“That depends, Hongjoong.” 

“On what?” he whispered agitatedly, bracing himself when Seonghwa adjusted himself slightly, straightening and standing another inch taller than Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong felt like they were in some sort of limbo, rather than having a deadly standoff. Something balancing on the edge of a knife, and Hongjoong was terrified of what would happen when it tipped. 

“On you,” Seonghwa said lowly, voice as inky black as his eyes that didn’t shift. “I can’t let you go if you’re going to endanger things, Hongjoong.” 

“You have me pinned to a wall with a gun,” Hongjoong whispered, lips shaking as he tried to glare. “I think only one of us is in danger.” 

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, eyes dragging across Hongjoong’s face purposefully as something in his eyes… shifted. Not softer, but smoother- not so sharp. 

“If I back away… will you not scream?” Seonghwa asked carefully, though there was still a clear threat. 

Hongjoong wanted to ask if Seonghwa was going to shoot him if he screamed. But he figured the answer was pretty obvious. 

He nodded shakily, holding his breath as Seonghwa stared harder, searching for lies… 

If keeping quiet meant that Hongjoong got out of this alive, he didn’t have a real problem with that. 

“We’re going into the cafe,” Seonghwa said stiffly. “And we’re going to talk. As long as you cooperate, I won’t touch you. You’ll leave unharmed, Hongjoong, understand?”

The line between comfort and threat blurred, but it didn’t really matter. Hongjoong nodded, brain fuzzy with fearful static. Seonghwa waited another moment before stepping back, removing his hold on Hongjoong completely. 

He took a deep, shaking breath, feeling his eyes burn as Seonghwa continued to stare at him, though some of the danger in his eyes had faded. Seonghwa gestured him forward, and Hongjoong took a step towards the mouth of the alley. 

His knees betrayed him, giving out after the first step as it felt like all of his muscles were trembling- 

Hands caught him in a firm grip from behind, and Hongjoong yelled- not quite a scream, but involuntary and much louder than intended as he slapped at Seonghwa’s hands roughly, stumbling away- 

Seonghwa’s hands continued to grab at his arm, and Hongjoong breathed rapidly, stumbling back as panic built- 

Hongjoong was suddenly yanked forward, a hand back over his mouth, and this time he wasn’t able to hold the tears back, hot drops of fear racing down his cheeks as he stared at Seonghwa’s hardened expression as he was held chest-to-chest firmly, to keep him from breaking away. 

Hongjoong stopped struggling, just staying numbly in Seonghwa’s grip as he cried silently- 

He hadn’t mean to scream, he wasn’t trying to run, he was just fucking scared- 

Seonghwa stared down at him, seemingly merciless, and Hongjoong was so sure he was about to get a bullet in the head- 

Something in Seonghwa’s expression unlocked- still hard, but his eyes… 

Hongjoong stared at his eyes, almost more afraid of the softening edges than of the wicked knife from before. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa murmured, his grip on Hongjoong loosening, until he was barely holding on. “I don’t want to hurt you- I’m just trying to protect myself. My friends.” 

Hongjoong sucked in a pathetic breath as more tears spilled over Seonghwa’s hand, his entire body frozen. 

Seonghwa’s hand loosened over his mouth. “I just want to explain to you, Hongjoong,” he promised, voice low and firm. “If you won’t breathe a word of what you saw… Everything will be okay.” 

Hongjoong didn’t know what “okay” meant because there was still a gun at the hip of someone Hongjoong had been caught up on an hour ago. 

Seonghwa finally released him completely. “Let me explain,” Seonghwa requested, the final remnants of darkness fading from his eyes. 

Until it looked like Hongjoong was just staring at Seonghwa, from back at the flower shop. 

But now, Hongjoong knew what was hiding under his coat. 

“What if- if I say I’m not interested?” Hongjoong breathed shakily, not bothering to wipe the stupid tears away as he stared at Seonghwa, waiting for him to go back to that anger. “I- I won’t say anything about it. I just want- want to go h-home-” 

Something… softened further in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

“We’ll know if you say anything,” Seonghwa said, though it sounded like a gentle reminder, rather than a threat. “But… if you truly won’t speak about this… then there’s no reason for you to listen to excuses you’re not interested in. You can go.” 

And that… that more than any threat of violence… made Hongjoong hesitate. 

He drew his hands to his chest, glancing at the mouth of the alley, his entire body screaming for him to run, sprint, never speak a word of anything that had happened this night- 

Forget Seonghwa had ever been a passing person in his life. 

But Hongjoong’s legs wouldn’t move as he looked back at Seonghwa, who simply gestured in invitation for Hongjoong to go. 

Would Seonghwa truly not just shoot him in the back for trying to leave?

“Why… Why bother letting me go?” Hongjoong whispered, voice shaking at his own stupidity for not already running- 

Seonghwa stared at him blankly, almost… almost sadly. 

“Why take the chance that I would talk?” he pressed quietly, jaw tight. “Why- Why not just k-kill me?” 

There was a pause, Seonghwa simply staring, and Hongjoong was sure the next thing he would see would be a bullet in his head. 

But Seonghwa merely sighed quietly, as if regretting something, shoulders falling. “Because I really don’t want to kill you, Hongjoong,” he responded slowly, eyes locking on Hongjoong’s teary ones. “But if you want all the reasons why I don’t just murder you in cold blood for my own convenience… it would be better to hear me out.” 

Part of Hongjoong felt bitter at the statement, Seonghwa talking as if killing Hongjoong was something regrettable- Hadn’t he just dismissed Hongjoong like a bothersome stranger a few days ago?

Okay, so maybe being really fucking rude was different from murdering someone- But why was Seonghwa suddenly acting as if they had a good relationship? As if killing Hongjoong would lose Seonghwa anything?

The better part of Hongjoong, though… was still frozen in place. 

If Seonghwa truly didn’t want to harm him… If Seonghwa was actually involved in some sort of illicit activity… If Seonghwa actually was looking at Hongjoong honestly, as if Hongjoong were someone worth something... 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly. 

“Where… did you have in mind?” he rasped, hands shaking where they pressed against his own chest defensively. 

~~~~~~~~

Now

Hongjoong woke up at 6 A.M. and Seonghwa was not gone, still wrapped around him firmly, like Hongjoong might roll away in his sleep.

And now, it was 6:32 and they were both sitting on the couch with an untouched breakfast in front of them as Hongjoong quietly sipped the coffee Seonghwa had made.

At first, Seonghwa had merely sat beside Hongjoong, glancing at him worriedly without trying to crowd him with demands of what was going on. But then Hongjoong had shifted, tired of the distance between them, and sitting between Seonghwa’s legs and leaning back into his chest comfortably.

(The couch was plenty big enough for them to sit like this as Seonghwa wrapped loose arms around Hongjoong who quietly sipped his coffee.)

Part of Hongjoong wondered how much Seonghwa already knew. Because as much as he didn’t interact with the general members of KQ, he always knew everything. And Doyeon now being immobilized with a bullet to the knee was bound to stir up some dust.

But Hongjoong had the distinct feeling that Seonghwa didn’t know much because he was calmly rubbing circles in Hongjoong’s hip that tickled, rather than sitting with stiff awareness.

Hongjoong finished his coffee, staring at the empty cup longingly before Seonghwa grabbed his own cup from the side table and passed it to Hongjoong wordlessly.

Hongjoong loved this fucking man.

And that… that was why Doyeon’s words wouldn’t make him spiral. Because he, more than anyone, knew how utterly untrue they were.

“I shot Doyeon in the kneecap for calling me your personal whore and suggesting that you should share me with the rest of them.”

Seonghwa’s thumb fell still mid-circle. He didn’t seize up, stiffening into hardened stone that Hongjoong would have to coax into softening.

Which meant he already knew at least something. And was probably just surprised Hongjoong put it so bluntly.

Hongjoong stared at the dark coffee, sipping it slowly, letting the heat of it travel down his throat soothingly.

It felt good to say it… even if his stomach twisted ever so slightly at the thought of all that blood.

(Hongjoong was used to this life. He accepted this life. But this life still came with its own aftertaste.)

He felt his chest unlock a bit when Seonghwa resumed massaging his hip gently. “I know,” he murmured quietly. “It’s hard to miss someone yelling that loud. You must have scared them all good because it took three people for me to confirm who did it...”

Hm. So, he did know. He was being oddly calm about it. 

Hongjoong swallowed a large mouthful of coffee. “It was me.”

In the beginning, Seonghwa might have asked: do you want me to kill him?

Over time, he learned that wasn’t Hongjoong’s desire at all. And the fact that Hongjoong had shot Doyeon at all was almost a bigger deal than the insults.

Hongjoong would almost be afraid by how unaffected he was by his retaliation. Except he’d always known that there was an area of his life that no one was allowed to touch. No one was allowed anywhere near it.

To an extent… not even Seonghwa.

“You’re being awfully calm about it,” Hongjoong noted conversationally. It wasn’t as if he wanted Seonghwa to freak out, but… he just usually did, no matter how insignificant a problem. 

“We taught you those skills so you could use them when you felt unsafe,” Seonghwa murmured against his temple. “That doesn’t just mean physically.” 

“I didn’t feel unsafe,” Hongjoong pressed, sighing quietly. “I was just angry. And that’s why I regret doing it. Because I didn’t need to.”

Seonghwa was quiet for a moment, warm hands on Hongjoong’s waist. “I’m not freaking out over it… because I know that it’s a complete and utter lie,” he murmured. “And I know… that you know it, too.” 

Hongjoong did know it. Sometimes, you just needed to remind yourself that you knew. 

“Are you alright?” Seonghwa asked quietly, voice calm but holding that undeniable tension where he wasn’t exactly sure how much Hongjoong was hiding.

“I feel… better after yesterday,” Hongjoong admitted, leaning his head back against Seonghwa’s shoulder and seeing the tension in his profile from the corner of his eye. “I was… angry, more than I was hurt- at least at first,” he murmured, feeling Seonghwa’s arms wrap around his waist tighter, holding him in like a seatbelt in a car.

Safe.

He laid a hand over Seonghwa’s resting across his chest. “And then I just felt… sick,” Hongjoong murmured, expression twitching. “And… And almost dirty because they made me remember him- “

Seonghwa’s arms tightened around him, his head tucking against Hongjoong’s shoulder like he wanted to wrap around him as a shield against the world. And he did want that. So very much.

It was different, their jokes of sending Hongjoong out to sleep his way through gang leaders. It was different to have a group of friends, among whom Hongjoong felt safe, joking about whoring him out for the good of their operation. 

Doyeon and those men had not earned that right. 

“That’s why I asked San not to let you come running,” Hongjoong said quietly. “I wanted to figure out my head, get everything straight…”

“I know,” Seonghwa murmured against his skin, kissing it gently. “And you feel better?” he asked in a voice that didn’t dare to hope, despite Hongjoong admitting that he did.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong assured him, squeezing his hand, staring at the windows that lined the entirety of the south wall of the living room. “After I calmed down, I… I got over it quick because I could finally think clearly enough to recognize…how wrong they were…”

Seonghwa fell still against him, and Hongjoong managed a small smile.

“Both of them,” he whispered calmly. “All of them… I’m no one’s whore.”

“You’re not,” Seonghwa whispered, almost inaudible as he finally squeezed Hongjoong hard enough he had to set his cup aside as they curled together. “That’s not what you are, that’s never what you were-“

“I know,” Hongjoong responded firmly, feeling the answer resonate in his soul. “I know that.” He squeezed Seonghwa’s hand that caught his, holding it tightly as he brushed his thumb along the smooth skin. “I’m not your whore… I’m just your husband, aren’t I?” he asked, staring at their joined hands that were both devoid of rings.

The statement still brought a smile to his lips.

He felt Seonghwa take a slow breath behind him. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing you say that,” he whispered, lips brushing Hongjoong’s neck with warm breath dusting across his skin.

Hongjoong felt a ball of warmth gather in his chest as he smiled quietly, twisting slightly and forcing Seonghwa away from his neck for their eyes to meet.

He could see everything inside of Seonghwa: the concern still lingering, the distant anger of not being with Hongjoong through it, the slightest guilt for letting it happen in the first place…

As well as the warmth of pride in Hongjoong, the warmth of something else coming off of Seonghwa in waves… and the little way his eyes had darkened every so slightly, making Hongjoong chuckle.

“Say what?” he asked, slowly twisting around until he was half-kneeling, still between Seonghwa’s legs. “That you’re my husband?”

Seonghwa rolled his lips, everything in his face falling quiet as he stared at Hongjoong with an expression Hongjoong was so very used to…

Neither of their lives were ones very concerned with real marriage. Hongjoong didn’t have a family left who cared, and Seonghwa most certainly wasn’t trying to tie the knot while smuggling weapons.

But Hongjoong felt the giddiest urge to laugh every time the word passed from someone’s mouth. At first, it was something of a safety precaution, to make it clear that the person they were targeting was someone close and personal to the largest gang leader in Seoul.

And then, it became something more of a truth, in every way but legal.

But fuck it - he was running with a gang. He clearly didn’t have much concerns with legality.

Hongjoong placed his hands on Seonghwa’s shoulders, one of them sliding up until he cupped Seonghwa’s cheek with a quiet grin.

It had been a couple of weeks since they’d been able to really interact outside of the base or in the few hours at night before they slept.

And Hongjoong was feeling really fucking good as he stared at the man he’d chosen.

The man who’d chosen him. After all that time of waiting for a good guy to come along… 

“Do you like it?” Seonghwa asked, eyes flickering across Hongjoong’s face. “Being my husband?”

And even as he already knew the answer, there was that tiniest hint of insecurity in the back of Seonghwa’s eyes. One that would likely never go away, so long as Hongjoong was involved in this life that came with so many dangers and harmful risks. 

Hongjoong smiled, though, something dangerously thick closing up his throat.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak, shifting forward as Seonghwa leaned back until Hongjoong was straddling his thighs. “Yeah, I really fucking like it, Seonghwa.”

Namely because… well, Hongjoong had sort of given up on something like that. Everything about binding himself to a person had left a sour taste in his mouth.

Yaechan had made sure that any growing romantic strings were eager to be cut.

Hongjoong waited for Seonghwa to tear his eyes away from Hongjoong’s, to kiss his cheek, to murmur an apology that he had to get going to the base (he was already going to be way too late).

Hongjoong held no bitterness towards Ateez and their need of Seonghwa. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t whine when Seonghwa had to leave him.

Hongjoong was taken aback a moment, though, when Seonghwa’s hands landed on the swell on his ass, pulling him forward until they were flush, making Hongjoong gasp as he braced his hands on Seonghwa’s shoulders.

Seonghwa’s head tilted back to look at him, his expression that odd, familiar mixture of deep adoration and subtle righteous anger.

“I’m never going to let them speak to you again,” Seonghwa whispered, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Hongjoong’s collarbone, making him swallow thickly. “I’ll cut their tongues out if they ever even think-“

“Not really the biggest turn on to bring work into it,” Hongjoong chuckled, his fingers threading through Seonghwa’s neatly kempt hair, taking great pleasure in messing it up as Seonghwa stopped, silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa murmured against the skin of his neck that he slowly kissed up, making Hongjoong bare it further as he closed his eyes against the sensation. “I should have been there. I shouldn’t have sent you on your own… I’m sorry you heard it, even if it’s lies. I’m sorry I still can’t protect you from those things-“

“Is that why you haven’t left for work yet?” Hongjoong asked, chuckling as he used his grip in his hair to tilt his head away, smiling as he dragged Seonghwa close enough to kiss the corner of his mouth, staying in his space. “Because you’re sorry?”

“No,” Seonghwa admitted, his hands flexing where they still rested just above Hongjoong’s ass. “Because I love you, and I haven’t told you in a while.”

Hongjoong laughed, something finally breaking free in his chest as his lips stretched wide where he caught Seonghwa’s cheeks between his smaller palms.

“You love me,” he laughed, squeezing Seonghwa’s cheeks, “ and you’re sorry? You’re scared?” he questioned. “You’ve never taken a morning off just to have sex.”

“Because I love you,” Seonghwa said firmly, his hands running up Hongjoong’s back in warm stripes. “And even if you already know they’re lies, I want you to never forget what you mean to me.”

A kiss pressed to the curve of Hongjoong’s jaw. 

“Everything, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa murmured roughly, emotions clinging to his throat. “You mean everything to me.” 

Hongjoong closed his eyes, allowing Seonghwa to kiss across his throat and jaw, warm and familiar… 

Hongjoong had once thought… that Seonghwa’s touch could erase any leftover pain or fear that followed Hongjoong.

Turns out, it’s not that easy. 

Seonghwa’s presence would merely cover the pain that would then poke its head out once the right time came. A distraction, not a cure. But it was a relief that Hongjoong hadn’t felt in years. 

And for a while… Hongjoong treated Seonghwa like an addict might treat morphine.

And not a day went by that he didn’t regret that time in his life. A time that Seonghwa had catered to, not knowing how else to help Hongjoong, to protect him like he swore over and over again that he would. Hongjoong took advantage of that desire. And he regretted it. 

That was the past, though.

And now, Hongjoong knew better than to burden Seonghwa with the responsibility of fixing his issues.

Instead, he had spent his time fixing himself, and Seonghwa had merely waited until he needed a break. Hongjoong had painstakingly taken count of himself and carefully arranged everything back where it belonged… and he relied on Seonghwa. Quite heavily. 

But he no longer used him. And Seonghwa no longer let himself be used. Hongjoong figured himself out… and Seonghwa helped. 

And now, there was rarely anything so darkening to their relationship. 

“I’d never forget that,” Hongjoong assured him quietly, eyes shining. “You won’t let me.”

“Then not a reminder,” Seonghwa murmured, his hand slipping under the back of Hongjoong’s shirt and feeling up the ridges of his spine. “An indulgence.”

Hongjoong chuckled, shifting back to sit on his haunches as Seonghwa paused at the withdrawal. But Hongjoong merely smiled quietly. “I love you,” he said quietly, eyes trailing across Seonghwa’s expression that always seemed to mingle the terse tension of work and the softened goo that Hongjoong got to see.

It was addicting, watching the way Seonghwa’s face transformed minutely every time Hongjoong told him that- hidden muscles pulling up and releasing tension, and a light beginning to gather across his skin.

As if every micro expression were celebrating.  

 Hongjoong brushed a hand through Seonghwa’s hair, purposefully moving it out of place. “I know he can’t touch me anymore,” he murmured. “And even if he could, it doesn’t matter.” He ran his nails over Seonghwa’s scalp gently. “Because I took all that power from him.”

There was a moment where Seonghwa’s expression twitched down, something almost like regret that never quite strayed from heartfelt pride.

Hongjoong knew that it killed Seonghwa that he had missed the darkest time in Hongjoong’s life. That Hongjoong had ever gone through a time where his every moment was haunted by shadows of threats.

That he hadn’t known Hongjoong until he had half-buried all that pain, hiding away from all the things that used to scare him. 

That he hadn’t been able to stop that pain, to save Hongjoong from experiencing that. That he, even before they’d ever met, couldn't protect Hongjoong from everything. 

The first time Seonghwa had expressed that regret- his hand clenching Hongjoong’s tightly and the other caressing his face that had stared in shock- Hongjoong hadn’t believed he was real.

And he cried at the first person to offer him protection.

Seonghwa’s hands gripped his hip firmly, thumbs rubbing circles in his sides. “Indulge me?” he asked, eyes shining with…

Something like adoration. An expression that had knocked the breath out of Hongjoong the first time he saw it because… well, certainly no one had ever looked at him like that. Not in a way that they meant, anyway.

Hongjoong was seated in Seonghwa’s lap, currently being offered something they hadn’t had time for in a while, and Seonghwa wasn’t running off to work.

Hongjoong barely contained his grin as he stripped off his sleeping shirt, making Seonghwa blink for a moment before warm hands dragged him forward to kiss him firmly.

Hongjoong had half of Seonghwa’s shirt unbuttoned before Seonghwa lifted him by the hips to twist them, pressing Hongjoong’s back to the couch cushion- his body hovering above him.

Hongjoong stared up at his eyes, dark but sparkling as Seonghwa dropped to suck a bruise into his neck hard enough to make Hongjoong cry out with a breathless laugh as he smacked Seonghwa’s neck.

“That hurt,” he warned through laughter, shoving Seonghwa’s mouth away before dragging him down to an open kiss that had way too much tongue as Seonghwa’s hands trailed down his stomach to his sweatpants.

There was an infinitely long list of things that Hongjoong had with Seonghwa… that he’d been  convinced he’d never have.

For example: love.

For another example: honesty.

Hongjoong wasn’t a pessimist by any means, but he’d spent so many months clinging to a hope that things would be better… and they just never were.

But part of him held that hurt Yaechan gave him in a special place. Because without it, he would have never had the guts to love Seonghwa.

Because that pain he held in his heart had been the thing to teach him that there was a difference between people who did bad things… and people who were inherently evil.

~~~~~~~~~~

Then

Seonghwa sat in a car, watching the little flower shop.

This was very, very stupid.

But his window was tinted and raised, blocking him from any wandering eyes. Including those of the redhead watering flowers outside of the little shop.

Seonghwa should not be here. He should have made their parting at the café the last time he ever bothered to even think of Hongjoong.

He should have let his last image of Hongjoong be the pensive, frightened expression that Hongjoong wore as Seonghwa explained what the gun was for, what he was a part of, and what he… mistakenly felt for Hongjoong.

“You’re normal, Hongjoong. You’re a rarity. And you can’t get involved in stuff like this. So… even though, in a different world, I might have agreed in a heartbeat… This is the last time we’ll ever interact. For both our sakes.”

Seonghwa didn’t know why he added on the part of him liking Hongjoong. Maybe it was just a way for him to comfort the other.

The… fear on Hongjoong’s face had been… startling. Especially compared to the vibrant life that had made Seonghwa act so stupidly in the first place. Seeing that fear…

It was different from the fear that Seonghwa was used to seeing in people on the other end of his gun.

Namely because this fear grabbed something deep in Seonghwa’s gut, wrenching it painfully as he pinned the threat to the wall.

How was it always Hongjoong?

His phone pinged with a text message that he glanced at on the display screen of the car.

Yeosang: Stop stalking him. Either make a decision or tell one of us to make it for you.

Yeosang was perhaps the most annoyingly blunt person on their team (which was saying something, when Jongho was also present). But he was usually right.

Maybe more than usually.

And honestly, this back and forth game that Seonghwa was playing was more dangerous than anything Hongjoong could do to them.  

He pressed his lips together, dismissing the message swiftly before looking back out the window-

Hongjoong was staring at the car.

The squirt bottle was held limp in his hand as he stared at the car, as if trying to tell if it was actually there or not.

When Hongjoong took a slow step towards the car, Seonghwa had two options: drive off, or make possibly the biggest mistake of his life.

He hesitated.

Seonghwa never hesitated. But he seemed to be doing nothing but hesitating with everything that came with the redhead.

The redhead who was currently standing a foot away from the car, approaching cautiously, glancing around to see if there was any explanation for him.

Seonghwa held his breath as Hongjoong carefully… quietly… rapt his knuckle on the car window, expression a mixture of uncertainty and slight fear. He still had time. He could leave without ever letting Hongjoong see his face. 

Seonghwa cursed himself as he pressed a button, the windows slowly rolling down halfway.

Hongjoong jumped at the movement, eyes widening as he stared into the car. Seonghwa stared back as the two of them simply remained in silent stasis for a moment.

Seonghwa shouldn’t be here.

Hongjoong wet his lips. “You… You were parked out here for a while… I didn’t see anyone ever get out, and so I thought…” He lifted uncertain eyes to Seonghwa. “I thought… it might be you watching me.”

Seonghwa shouldn’t be here.

“Why are you here?” Hongjoong asked shakily, having to bend to see in the car. “You- You said last night was the last time we’d see each other.” He chewed his lip nervously for a moment. “Or… was that just your way of saying you’d be… watching me?”

Seonghwa was an idiot.

A stupid idiot who was going to get himself and his team killed, all because he was dumb enough to feel-

“It was supposed to be the last time we ever even thought of each other,” Seonghwa replied calmly, his grip probably way too tight on the wheel.

Hongjoong was clearly trying to figure out if these questions were about to get him shot, glancing around, staring at Seonghwa, as if begging him to answer without needing to be asked.

“Then… Then why are you here?” Hongjoong asked quietly, voice trembling slightly, though the fear in his eyes was significantly reduced.

He swallowed, and Seonghwa’s lips thinned as he traced lines across Hongjoong’s delicately nervous expression with his eyes.

Hongjoong wasn’t looking at him with fear. It was uncertain, it was frightened, it was nervous… but it wasn’t fear.

It was tentative and curious.

And Seonghwa honestly hadn’t thought he’d ever see Hongjoong’s face again, without it being marred with twisted, horrified terror.

Something painful warped in Seonghwa’s chest as he locked eyes with Hongjoong’s shaking ones.

“I don’t know,” he whispered honestly.  

He expected Hongjoong to demand to be left alone. Or maybe to run. Or maybe to have fear return to his eyes at the thought of Seonghwa stalking him-

But part of the apprehension in Hongjoong’s expression actually melted away, into something that looked like acceptance. Or maybe understanding.

Hongjoong worked his jaw, glancing away and rolling his lips before looking back at Seonghwa with eyes so innocent, it was like staring at a child’s.

Or maybe Seonghwa just forgot what normal people looked like.

But he knew that that expression was not the one Hongjoong should be wearing after being threatened, manhandled, and burdened with everything Seonghwa had told him.

But Hongjoong… stared at him, almost like you might when you saw a stranger who so very clearly had a story to tell.

“Do you… have a minute?” he asked hesitantly, though it wasn’t fear in his voice. “We can… talk inside.”

NO! Seonghwa’s brain screamed. He shouldn’t even be here.

No, he shouldn’t be here. But he was. There were a hundred things he shouldn’t have done since meeting Hongjoong. But he’d done them all, despite knowing their consequences.

And as Hongjoong waited patiently for his answer, Seonghwa realized that he’d been consciously and purposefully ignoring every consequence. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about those consequences, but… it just seemed like he had something else as a priority.

Seonghwa had already fucked things up well beyond repair.

So, he merely turned off the engine, taking the key out slowly as Hongjoong took a slow breath, as if bracing himself as Seonghwa got out the car and walked around, ignoring the scolding in his head that sounded suspiciously like Yeosang.

In for a penny, in for a pound, as it were.

Hongjoong walked back to the shop stiffly, but his demeanor was that of someone awkward, not afraid.

The shop was cool, fragrant, and exactly like Seonghwa had left it last time. Hongjoong walked behind the counter before leaning his elbows on it, staring at Seonghwa across the shop.

Seonghwa was sure the counter was a purposeful buffer between the two of them, but Hongjoong’s expression was almost severe, as if he had something important to say.

He didn’t know how insane this florist needed to be, to call back and invite a mob boss into his shop alone . But Seonghwa stood in the center of the open floor, his hands hidden in his coat pockets as he stared across the shop passively at Hongjoong.

Indifferent and calm. That’s what he needed to be. 

Hongjoong rolled his lips, but said nothing. He didn’t seem to be struggling with words. Rather, as if he wasn’t sure if what he wanted to say was worth the risk.

Seonghwa, however, lived by taking risks.

“You don’t seem… very afraid of me anymore,” he commented calmly, not sure if it was the best course of action, but… Seonghwa was never good at letting things slide.

Hongjoong stiffened slightly. “Do you have your gun on you today?” he asked, cautious and quiet… but wary.

Not afraid.

“I always have my gun,” Seonghwa admitted, pulling back one side of his jacket subtly to expose the weapon at his hip.

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “I see,” he murmured, wetting his lips. “Well… I am scared of you,” Hongjoong admitted slowly, eyes lingering over the spot at Seonghwa’s hip. “But… only because I don’t… I don’t know what you… want from me.”

He dragged his eyes away, staring directly into Seonghwa’s.

Seonghwa was taken aback (never visibly) by the intensity behind Hongjoong’s eyes, as if he were determined to say something.

Or maybe… determined to hide something.  

“I don’t want anything from you,” Seonghwa told him flatly.

“Then why were you watching me?” Hongjoong questioned, each question stiff, like he didn’t know where the line was or when he’d cross it.

He kept talking, though, despite that blindness. And Seonghwa… took a moment to be impressed.

After everything Hongjoong knew… he was still here talking.

“You said we’d never interact again,” Hongjoong pressed carefully, his arms drawn in close like a shield. “And you said… you said you were never supposed to see me again, anyway, after the first time we met.” His jaw tightened. “But you’ve showed up around here a lot.”

“My informant likes this area,” Seonghwa said rotely, expression giving away nothing. “I’m here to meet with him.”

Hongjoong’s expression withdrew, as if he were warring about the next thing to say.

Seonghwa tilted his head curiously, an eyebrow lifting. “If you have something to ask, ask it. I have other things to do.”

“Like sit and watch me for two hours?”

Hongjoong didn’t seem horrified by his own statement, but he did curl his lips in, eyes intent and almost… defiant. As if he was waiting for the consequence of that statement, but thought that… those consequences were worth it.

Seonghwa wanted to dispute it.

But even Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa was full of shit.

His jaw tightened, and he saw a sliver of fear creep into Hongjoong’s eyes as he took a half-step back. Almost like a flinch.

Seonghwa loosened his jaw. “Ask what you’re trying to ask. Stop buying time.”

Hongjoong swallowed, stepping back up to the counter and placing his hands on it. They didn’t shake, but he gripped the counter tightly.

“You told me…” His expression faltered for a second before building back up into a hard mask of defiance. “You told me… the first time we met, when I gave you the flower…” His jaw clenched. “You told me… that if your life were different… then you would have accepted.”

Seonghwa took a silent breath, staring at Hongjoong who didn’t flinch.

“Did you mean that?” he asked quietly, something almost accusing in his voice.   

Seonghwa should scoff, laugh, and assure him that it was merely a statement he gave to soften the blow.

But Seonghwa… as much as Hongjoong’s vibrancy had attracted and intrigued him… This almost stony defiance… was almost more intriguing.

As if Hongjoong were determined not to be afraid. And Seonghwa wanted to know why this cowering man was bothering with these questions at all.

“If I did mean it?” Seonghwa challenged calmly, taking a slow step towards Hongjoong.

Hongjoong tensed, but didn’t flinch back, expression hardening further as Seonghwa slowly approached. Maybe that was the solution.

Just make Hongjoong so repulsed, Seonghwa would feel no urge to return.

But then again… if their last meeting hadn’t been enough to scare him off… Seonghwa wondered what would.

“Does that frighten you?” Seonghwa asked genuinely, though his voice was almost cruel. “That someone who has done what I have… would be interested in you?”

He stood directly in front of the counter, laying his hands delicately on the edge.

Hongjoong stared at him, made of stone, eyes not even shaking where they locked with Seonghwa’s, something determined mingling with anxiety and uncertainty.

“No,” he replied, voice nothing but a weak whisper that mismatched the anger on his face.

Seonghwa raised a genuinely surprised eyebrow. “And why wouldn’t it?” he asked casually, leaning on the counter.

Hongjoong still didn’t shift back.

“Because,” He said slowly, carefully as his knuckles whitened on the counter edge, “I don’t… I don’t feel… threatened by you.”

Seonghwa… was both angered and confused by the answer that Hongjoong murmured.

“Your eyes tell a different story.”

“I’m nervous around you,” Hongjoong clarified, swallowing thickly, expression tense. “I don’t know what you want. But I… I don’t think you’re going to hurt me. You said you wouldn’t, unless I told someone.”

“And you’re taking me on my word?” Seonghwa scoffed.

“You told me I could.”

“I run a gang- you don’t think I could be lying?”

Hongjoong wet his lips. “You could be. But I don’t think you are.”

“And you’re a master at reading people?” he challenged skeptically. “You’re taking an awfully large risk by assuming the best about me in any regard.”

“Do you want me to be afraid of you?” Hongjoong asked, his expression pinching in confusion. “You sat with me, you explained how you kill, but never without reason. That you’ve done horrible things, but never for real personal gain. You spent an evening convincing me you weren’t inherently evil… and now you want me to believe that you are?”

Seonghwa didn’t know why he wanted Hongjoong afraid.

Well, he didn’t want him to be afraid. He wanted to understand… why he wasn’t.

“Any normal person would still be afraid, even with that explanation. I claim to not be evil, but I’ve killed more people than you could count. Does it really matter why I did it?”

Hongjoong paused and Seonghwa could practically see the gear grinding in his head. He chewed his lip for a moment before straightening.

“I don’t think… you’re a bad person,” he admitted.

At that, Seonghwa couldn’t help but bark a laugh, staring at Hongjoong in disbelief.

“I’m in a gang. I’m the leader of the worst gang in Seoul.”

Something in Hongjoong’s expression stiffened.

Almost defensive, but… almost pained.

Seonghwa frowned minutely.

“Normal people have done worse than you,” Hongjoong said, his voice definitively… tighter. “Normal people can be cruel, too. I, of all people, know that being legal… doesn’t make you good.”  

Seonghwa frowned further, something in his chest beginning to knot up.

“Being in a gang… doesn’t make you a bad person,” Hongjoong said firmly. “Just like not being in a gang doesn’t make you a good one.”

Seonghwa straightened slightly from where he had slouched on the counter.

Hongjoong dropped his eyes to stare at his white knuckles. “There’s a difference between… doing bad things… and being a bad person. And I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

He said it firmly, as if he were resolute in his decision.

And Seonghwa wondered what cursed god created someone so utterly unbelievable. And confusing.

Because Hongjoong spoke as if he’d known someone who was bad. As if…

Seonghwa frowned. “Even if I’m not a bad person… that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t want me as far away from you as possible.”

“Why do you keep coming back?” Hongjoong demanded, looking up with eyes that were slightly afraid.

But not of Seonghwa.

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa replied stiffly.

Hongjoong looked like there was a specific answer that he was dreading.

Seonghwa’s eyes trailed Hongjoong up and down slowly. He was wearing a vibrant tie-dye shirt and washed out light blue jeans. His brilliant red hair was slightly faded, but swept to the side as if he had been absently tucking it behind his ear where it kept coming loose.

He was still very pretty.

Seonghwa held all the cards here. He overpowered Hongjoong in every aspect. He was not afraid of Hongjoong.

“What if I kept coming back… because I wanted to see you?” Seonghwa asked slowly, purposefully.

Hongjoong didn’t stiffen. In fact, he almost seemed made of stone. “Is that why you came back?” he asked, voice a hoarse whisper. “It’s useless if we debate hypotheticals.”  

Part of Seonghwa liked this directness.

Part of Seonghwa was so utterly confused, looking at this man who had graciously accepted his rejection and vibrantly tried to gain Seonghwa’s attention at the café.

“Would that not scare you?” Seonghwa asked quietly. “If I said I wanted to see you?”

Hongjoong was silent a moment.

“No,” he whispered, staring at Seonghwa. “No, that wouldn’t scare me.”

Seonghwa chuckled in disbelief. “And why not?” he asked, smiling without amusement.

Hongjoong released the counter with one hand that formed a fist at his side. “Because I don’t feel threatened by you,” he said stiffly.  “You told me, that night, that you didn’t want to have to hurt me.”

“There’s a rather large distance between ‘not wanting to hurt you’ and ‘someone you should allow near you,’” Seonghwa said firmly.

“Are you worried about me?” Hongjoong asked, one eyebrow lifting, but was tense. “What does it matter to you whether I make a huge mistake?”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, some sort of retort on his tongue, but it died.

Why did it matter that Hongjoong not viciously run for his life from Seonghwa? Seonghwa had no real intention of harming Hongjoong. But it was stupid for both of them to think that anything could come from it.

“Even if it wasn’t a mistake for you, it’s a mistake for me to ever even consider it,” Seonghwa informed him stiffly.

“So you sitting outside my shop for two hours was-“

“Even if I don’t have any intention of hurting you, do you not understand how dangerous being around me is?” Seonghwa snapped. “I gave you a list of reasons to stay away, and it’s exactly as long as my fucking body count.”

“I stayed away,” Hongjoong said quietly, expression innocent. “You’re the one who kept coming back.”

Seonghwa’s jaw stiffened, his chest twisting.

“You’ve already made it clear that everything about this-“ He gestured between the two of them- “is wrong. You’ve done nothing but list reasons why I’m crazy for not running away. But you didn’t run away either.”

Seonghwa’s fist clenched in his jacket pocket.

“My own poor decision making aside… it seems like you’re a hypocrite.” He swallowed. “Do you like me that much?” he asked quietly. “That you’re ignoring every reason to stay away?”

Seonghwa didn’t know what to say to that.

Because there was no answer.

He was standing here. That was the answer to everything.

“Even if I chased after you, you should be running,” Seonghwa snapped, laying a hand on the counter and glaring. “Even if I sat here and demanded you, you should be running.”

Hongjoong’s jaw flexed. “I don’t feel threatened by  you.”

Seonghwa scoffed at the repetition, rolling his eyes hard enough to hurt. “And you know all about being threatened?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

Seonghwa’s mouth clicked shut.

Hongjoong stared at him coldly.

The apprehension and nerves were gone, leaving nothing but a blank slate staring at Seonghwa.

“My instinct may not be perfect, but it’s had a lot of practice.”

Seonghwa frowned, so deep and almost concerned, it was almost a glare. “Who threatened you?”

“Do you care?” Hongjoong asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Call it curiosity.”

“Someone who doesn’t matter anymore.”

“He’s dead?”

Hongjoong snorted, flat and emotionless. “People don’t just die, in the normal world. He’s not dead. I just wised up enough to leave.”

Hm.

Seonghwa stared at him, analyzing the stiffness of his lips, the tension around his eyes, the rocky posture…

“Abusive relationship?” Seonghwa asked quietly, his voice softening around the edges in a way he didn’t intend.

Hongjoong’s expressionless face continued to stare him down. “Do you care?”

“I’m not heartless.”

“You tried to convince me you were.”

“No, I tried to convince you not to trust everyone at surface level.”

“I already know that.”

“So why are you trusting me ?” Seonghwa demanded, eyes narrowing.

“Because the one lesson I learned was to steer fucking clear of anyone who made me feel like he did,” Hongjoong said stiffly, fist clenching at his side. “And even if you threaten me with a knife, a gun…” His eyes were hard. “You don’t make me feel like he did. And that means something.”

Seonghwa was silent for a moment, stiff.

His eyes flickered up and down Hongjoong, as if he might see a bruise or mark to represent a story told in such past tense. Hongjoong’s didn’t flinch away.

Part of Seonghwa thought he was crazy, looking at this situation and not running the opposite direction, especially after something like that in his past.

Part of him wondered… just how insane that man must have been to have made this entire situation nothing more than a curiosity for Hongjoong to figure out.

He examined Hongjoong’s face coldly, all the tensed muscles, as if solidifying into a shield against something.

Or maybe… a wall meant to keep something inside.

Seonghwa took a slow breath. “Is this your way of telling me to either commit or leave?”

Hongjoong paused, actually seeming to consider this seriously, eyes finally flickering away from Seonghwa to stare a bundle of roses against the wall.

“I don’t… like games,” Hongjoong said slowly, purposefully. “I don’t like… being played with. This is my… very genuine plea… for you not to play games with me.”

The statement hit Seonghwa in the chest like a brick. Quite possibly the last statement he ever expected to follow that question.

Despite the lack of expression on his face, his voice was dripped with something like desperation.

“If you’re going to leave, then leave. If you’re going to keep stalking me… tell me. Just please make a decision.” Hongjoong glanced back at Seonghwa. “Don’t… Don’t talk in circles and dance at a distance. Don’t make me waste my time wondering what’s going on. Just-“

He paused, swallowing thickly with his lips pressing together tightly.

Had Hongjoong not had his expression so locked down, Seonghwa might think he was about to cry.

“Just… please give me a straight answer,” Hongjoong pleaded gently. “Are you going to stay away? Is this actually the last time we see each other?”

Seonghwa should tell him yes. He should use this as the last satisfaction to his little obsession.

But then he stared at the stone of Hongjoong’s countenance and couldn’t help but place the bright smile of before next to it.

And Seonghwa realized that a handful of conversations could never be enough to sate the curiosity of understanding this man.

Yeosang was going to kill him.

“No,” he said quietly, lips stiff, knowing that he was possibly making a huge mistake. 

A brief moment of relief passed across Hongjoong’s face, not at the fact that Seonghwa would stay, but at finally having a real answer.

Part of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders that fell slightly.

“Are you… looking to start something?” he asked carefully, but his voice was intent and choosing his words purposefully. “With… me?”

This was an even more dangerous question. One that was a verbal admittance of how careless Seonghwa was being.

“If I did want that… Would you refuse it?” Seonghwa asked in turn, expression carefully controlled. “I don’t see much point in admitting to something you’d reject anyway.”

“I gave you the gardenia, didn’t I?”

“That was before you knew who I was.”

“Was that a different person?” Hongjoong asked, eyebrow raising. “Is the person you were when you came in here before… Is he fake?”

Seonghwa had to be impressed by Hongjoong. The way he dodged every hole and verbal trap… And the way he left no stone unturned in Seonghwa’s story.

I don’t like… being played with.

He wondered if that man had played with him. And Seonghwa felt a small prick of guilt at his own games, unintentional as they were.

“He wasn’t,” Seonghwa replied plainly, though his tone was low. He knew he was making yet another mistake. Yet here he was. 

“Then you already know my answer,” Hongjoong replied, shrugging softly. 

“Really?” Seonghwa couldn’t help but demand, almost concerned. “After everything I’ve done? The things you know I’m going to continue to do?”

Hongjoong was still and silent.

As if his batteries had run out for a moment.

But then he blinked, jaw tight enough to snap. “Are you going to hit me?” Hongjoong asked slowly.

Seonghwa blinked, unable to help the way his eyes widened.

“Are you going to throw me around?” Hongjoong continued calmly. “Are you going to call me a whore? Steal my phone when I try to text friends? Will you try and convince me that there’s no one on this stupid earth that would ever have me but you?”

Seonghwa could see behind the ice of his expression- the anger hiding there.

But he also saw a thousand unshed tears that never really manifested.

He stared.

Hongjoong swallowed. “If not… then there’s no way this could be a bigger mistake than I’ve already made.”

Seonghwa stared at him. At his numb face and stiff anger that was well hidden.

Maybe it was because Hongjoong was normal, that his carefully hidden emotions concerned him. He wasn’t like the scum that made up KQ or the trained killers of Ateez.

Maybe it was because Seonghwa never saw it coming, from the vibrant person he had seen before. Maybe it was because Seonghwa could almost see every crack and broken piece that Hongjoong was made of.

Maybe Seonghwa was just going too fast into territory that was too dangerous.

But for the first time in possibly years… Seonghwa ached for someone.

Chapter Text

Now 

Hongjoong was at the shop.

And it was a good day.

He carefully twisted a daisy around until it was in the right spot, smiling quietly at it as he stroked the petals gently. Flowers were so delicate… but so resilient, under the right care. 

Hongjoong fixed a stray piece of green, finally satisfied with the final product and feeling the usual pride in his chest at another success. 

He checked his phone after he placed the bouquet in the cooler, double checking on the orders already waiting in there before sliding it shut.

He had two texts. One from Yeosang and one from Seonghwa. 

Yeosang: Seonghwa is mooning over the pink camellia you sent

Seonghwa: If Yeosang texts you, don’t believe a thing he says.

Two more texts from Yeosang came in quick succession. 

Yeosang: And I only know it’s a camellia because Seonghwa looked it up and now he’s staring like a lovesick fool

Yeosang: And I’m disgusted that you would express ‘longing and a desire for you’ as if the two of you were star crossed lovers, and not two idiots who spent the day apart

Hongjoong snorted, grinning at his phone as he leaned against the counter.

He responded to Seonghwa first:

Hongjoong: I never believe anything anyone tells me ever.

And then to Yeosang.

Hongjoong: Shut up, you moon over Wooyoung every day, and you’ve had him for like ten years.

Hongjoong: But if you get me a picture, I’ll give you twenty dollars.

Yeosang: I’ll kill you.

Yeosang: Make it thirty.

Hongjoong: Deal.

He cackled to himself, clutching his phone to his chest with glee. There had been so many perks to befriending these people who saw Seonghwa more often than Hongjoong.

He set his phone on the counter as he grabbed twine from the back room, picking up the wiring too, as he returned to the front.

The scent of flowers was a familiar, comforting one. 

It smelled like home, rather than home smelling like his shop, and Hongjoong hummed to himself as he formed a circle with the wires, fingers moving with practiced, thoughtless rhythm-

Simultaneously, the bell above the door sounded as his phone went off with a text.

Hongjoong took the phone from the counter and placed it in his back pocket as he smiled brightly.

“Hello, welcome!” he called as a well-built man entered, smiling and waving.

He was dressed in a black suit, pressed and neat as he approached the counter with an almost celebrity-esque smile.

“Afternoon,” he greeted, laying his hands on the counter and glancing up at the general price board above Hongjoong’s head. “I’m looking for a bouquet for my mother. I’ve heard good things about this place.”

He dropped his gaze, smiling pleasantly at Hongjoong.

The barest shiver went down Hongjoong’s spine as he kept smiling, making some sort of grateful comment that didn’t even reach his own ears.

The smile wasn’t flirtatious, and there was nothing concerning about the gentle light in the man’s eyes. He looked no different than the dozens of other customers who came through in expensive suits and blinding smiles. 

But Hongjoong knew… that when someone, for whatever reason, made him feel like he did… that something was wrong.

“What sort of size were you looking for?” Hongjoong asked as he hand rested casually against his chest, feeling the little necklace beneath his shirt. He felt the silent click of the button as he dropped his hand, going out behind the counter to look at the collection of pink flowers the man gestured to.

“She loves pink,” the man excused, laughing as Hongjoong asked what the occasion was.

He felt his phone buzzing in his back pocket. He knew it was Seonghwa calling, but Hongjoong didn’t reach for it, nodding along with what the man envisioned.

“Do you have anything that says something like… you mean so much to me?” he asked, examining the flowers. “Or a show of gratitude? She… She’s been going through a rough month.”

For a moment, Hongjoong doubted his instinct.

There was nothing more than a gut feeling to go off of, and Hongjoong had been wrong before… But he had also learned that the one time he hesitated might be the time shit went downhill too fast to catch. He swallowed the doubt. 

“I have a few options,” Hongjoong assured him, smiling. “Would you like to stick with pink? I have a few pre-planned bouquets that are made to show appreciation.”

The man hummed, frowning in confliction. “She does like pink… But maybe a few other options would be nice.”

Hongjoong might have cried with relief. “Of course! I have a photobook in the back that you can look through.” He turned to go to the back, knowing that it might at least give him a chance to text Seonghwa. “I’ll just be a-“

Hongjoong jerked back with a painfully tight grip on his wrist, crying out as his shoulder jarred-

There was suddenly an arm across his neck and a very painful knife tip digging into his side as Hongjoong latched onto the arm across his neck, choking as it felt like the man was moment’s away from breaking his trachea.

“Running off?” the man growled in his ear.

Hongjoong could barely breathe, much less respond, sharp nails digging into the thick fabric of the suit as he was tilted back until his feet barely touched the ground.

“Your husband must trust you a lot, leaving you on your lonesome,” the man chuckled. “Or perhaps he’s just very stupid.”

Hongjoong clenched his eyes shut, panic clinging to the edges of his vision. He didn’t know how far the others were or how long it would take them to come. And his airway was currently blocked, so talking his way into buying time was not going to work. 

Fuck. 

He suppressed a painful whimper as the man shifted backwards, carrying Hongjoong towards the door. “Now,” he hissed, “when we get out of this shop, you’re gonna stay quiet, unless you wanna see all your pretty organs on the ground.”

Hongjoong grit his teeth, realizing that he was being fucking stupid at the moment, just dangling there-

He was not helpless. 

His upper body was heavily restricted by the arm across his neck, but his legs were dangling free.

Hongjoong drew his legs up quickly, kicking one foot back where the man’s knee should be, gagging as the movement choked him further-

Hongjoong cried out in tandem with the man as the knife pricked his side at the movement, but the man stumbled- the kick not powerful enough to break or damage anything, but enough to make him buckle.

The grip on his neck didn’t loosen, but the man lowered Hongjoong enough that his legs could touch the ground for a moment.

And remember, San’s voice laughed, you can always kick them in the dick.

The angle was awkward, but Hongjoong threw his foot back, needing to curve it upward in their position, but by the breathless cry from the man, he knew he at least hit something.

The grip on his neck finally loosened, and Hongjoong cursed the fact that the burst of oxygen was dizzying enough that he just fell limp, head spinning until he barely knew which way was up-

He lost his window of opportunity, his airway being crushed again as he cried out weakly, grabbing at the arm uselessly, eyes clenched shut fearfully as his legs kicked wildly, not hitting anything-

As soon as his breath was stolen, it returned again, Hongjoong falling forward as his hands hit the ground, his throat burning as he coughed violently, his brain fuzzy with pain and oxygen deprivation.

“Move!”

Hongjoong’s head was still spinning, but he recognized San’s voice yelling at him, and he blindly followed, forcing his legs under himself and stumbling until he hit the counter.

He ran behind it, ducking down and curling against the wall as he heaved in breaths that burned, a cold hand touching his throat gingerly as he continued to hack until he thought he might throw up.

He was shaking, but he remained as quiet as possible as the sound of fists striking skin and pained grunts reached him.

He knew that San would rather just put a bullet through the man’s head, but they couldn’t pull such brazen stunts in broad daylight, in such a crowded area.

Hongjoong’s vision had finally returned to normal by the time the area outside the counter grew quiet, the quiet sound of San panting, the only noise.

Hongjoong lifted his head slowly, still curled in the corner, flinching when his neck burned and ached at the movement.

“You can come out,” San panted, and Hongjoong carefully lifted himself up, using the counter as a support.

San was knelt beside the man’s body, a hand still wrapped around his neck, and Hongjoong winced in sympathy, despite the man’s actions.

San’s eyes were dark as he nodded towards the door. “Seonghwa is in the car. Go.”

Hongjoong didn’t need to be told twice, heading straight for the door, schooling his expression as he hid as much of his appearance as possible, walking on shaking legs to the familiar black car parked on the curb.

The door opened before he reached it, and Hongjoong got it hurriedly, slamming the door behind him so fast, he nearly crushed his foot.

He turned, releasing a breath that burned, making him wince and cough roughly, which only made his throat burn worse, like he had swallowed a candle.

Fuck, it hurt. 

“Let me see,” Seonghwa’s familiar voice coax, taking Hongjoong’s tentative hands away from his throat. “I’ve got you- let me see, Hongjoong,” he murmured gently. 

Hongjoong swallowed the burning that wanted to turn into coughing, tilting his head carefully at Seonghwa’s gentle touch that shifted his head around as he examined his neck. Gentle fingers touched and stung, making Hongjoong’s expression pinch as Seonghwa murmured quiet apologies as he ensured that nothing of real damage had been done.

“It’s just bruised,” Seonghwa murmured, carefully lowering Hongjoong’s head. “It’s going to hurt for a few days, though.”

Hongjoong lowered his eyes, finally looking at Seonghwa sitting beside him in the backseat.

He swallowed, wincing, but moved forward quickly.

Seonghwa caught him silently as Hongjoong buried his face in his chest, familiar arms wrapping around him and holding him close, making Hongjoong realize how hard he was shaking now that he was safe.

He tried not to cry, knowing that it would only hurt more, but he couldn’t help the few that slipped out onto Seonghwa’s suit that smelled like gunpowder and ink.

“I know,” Seonghwa whispered, stroking through Hongjoong’s hair carefully, comfortingly. “I know, I’m sorry we took so long…” A gentle kiss pressed to his temple. “You did well,” Seonghwa assured him. “You held him off, thank you.”

Thank you for keeping yourself safe.  

Hongjoong nodded, fingers curling in Seonghwa’s suit jacket tightly as he clenched his eyes shut. He was torn between crying in relief and crying because of how much his throat felt like he had swallowed glass shards. Every swallow made him want to cry harder.

“It’s okay,” Seonghwa murmured, and Hongjoong was vaguely aware of the car beginning to move. “You’re safe now, Hongjoong. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

Hongjoong nodded minutely, a rhythmic, constant bob of his head that hurt and sort of lost meaning as Seonghwa continued to reassure him. Hongjoong never liked altercations like that. 

Ones where Hongjoong, even with his few skills, was completely helpless. Completely unable to really do anything but struggle. 

Seonghwa continued to hold Hongjoong with one arm, the other reaching and gently pulling up his shirt to examine the small cut from the knife at his ribs. 

“Don’t even need a bandaid,” Seonghwa assured him softly, replacing the shirt and putting both arms around you. “You’re okay… You’re safe…” 

Hongjoong was surprised, but not complaining when it was the penthouse that they pulled up to, instead of the base.  

Hongjoong was on the verge of telling Seonghwa that he didn’t need to babysit him, but Seonghwa was already carefully guiding him out of the car, his hand holding Hongjoong’s tightly.

Seonghwa’s hand was the kind of tense that meant it would have been trembling, if he were a normal person. 

Seonghwa was silent as he closed the apartment door behind them, guiding Hongjoong to their bedroom and sitting him on the bed.

Hongjoong opened his mouth, prepared to tell Seonghwa that it wasn’t that bad, but the moment the air tried to pass through his throat, he just choked, doubling over for burning coughs that made more tears flood his eyes-

Fuck, it hurt. 

Seonghwa was rubbing his back, hushing him as his other hand supported Hongjoong’s head to keep him from bending his neck too far.

“Lay down,” Seonghwa coaxed, helping support Hongjoong’s head as he laid flat with his pillow slightly lower to keep his neck at a neutral angle. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand before leaving.

Hongjoong stared at the ceiling, totally focused on keeping his throat relaxed and not coughing his lungs out as they continued to tingle irritatingly. 

It had been a long time since any of these thugs had done anything more than grabbed Hongjoong’s arm in a brief hold that was broken moments later before any real damage was done. 

Seonghwa returned with an iced rag that he laid over Hongjoong’s throat. He winced at the cold, suppressing a cough, trying to distract himself with the weight of Seonghwa’s hand warming a spot through his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa murmured, rubbing his stomach comfortingly. “Yunho should be by soon, he’ll bring some painkillers and better icing methods.”

Hongjoong nodded minutely without straining his neck, and stared at Seonghwa’s expression that was softened with regret and concern. He closed his eyes, laying a hand on top of Seonghwa’s on his stomach.

Seonghwa paused his ministrations, eyes softening further as he sighed. “It’s alright,” he murmured, flipping his hand so he could hold Hongjoong’s. “You scared the shit out of me, pressing your beacon and then not picking up my call…” He sighed, rubbing at his face. “Sometimes, I hate having to operate with some amount of covertness in public.”

Yes, he knew that Seonghwa wished he could break down the door of the shop with guns blazing and shoot the man until he was nothing but an unrecognizable mess on the floor.

Hongjoong managed a weak, knowing smile that probably looked more like a grimace, but he knew that Seonghwa would understand.

Somehow, Seonghwa always understood. 

Sometimes Hongjoong couldn’t believe how absolutely… astronomical the odds were of him meeting Seonghwa. All of it depending on Hongjoong seeing a man so fucking pretty looking at him and being unable to help himself from shooting a shot that was destined to fail.

Seonghwa’s expression softened, something pained lingering as he stood, kicking off his shoes and crossing to his own side of the bed. Hongjoong didn’t move, letting the bed dip slowly beside him.

Hongjoong wondered how Seonghwa would manage laying close to him without hurting his neck.

But then Seonghwa curled lower, body coiling up as his head rested on Hongjoong’s stomach gently, facing Hongjoong like a cat.

He couldn’t see him- save for a small tuft of hair- without bending his neck, but Hongjoong smiled at the familiar weight, laying a hand on Seonghwa’s hair and brushing through it slowly.

Seonghwa stayed there, very likely staring at Hongjoong, as if afraid that looking away would create some new bruise he couldn’t defend against. His hand brushed along Hongjoong’s hip idly, carefully avoiding the miniscule cut on his side.

Hongjoong wanted to verbally confirm that he was okay, just shaken up. But now that the surge of adrenaline was gone and the pain in his neck was constant, Hongjoong closed his eyes, wanting to slip into sleep.

Unconsciously, he kept petting Seonghwa’s hair and occasionally wrapping a strand around his finger absently as he stared at the ceiling.

Seonghwa turned his face slightly, pressing a kiss over Hongjoong’s stomach that made his lips curl gently.

Sometimes… Hongjoong wondered what it would look like- one of the most feared, cruel men in Seoul… curled up on his lap and seeking comfort after that scare. What it would look like- a normal, tiny florist with a weird past petting his hair like someone might a comforting pet.

Despite how it made his throat burn, Hongjoong chuckled quietly, scratching at Seonghwa’s scalp.

Seonghwa pressed another kiss there, almost tickling, and his hand slipped just below Hongjoong’s shirt, simply resting his fingertips against Hongjoong’s warm skin.

Hongjoong knew that he was someone who created fear in Seonghwa. Fear he had never had reason to feel before. And part of him regretted that that fear that would always follow him.

But one thing he had learned…was to appreciate moments like these. The calm ones. The ones that maybe came after the things that created fear...

The ones where they weren’t in danger.

Hongjoong had learned that any moment they weren’t in danger… was a good one.

Seonghwa nuzzled his face into his stomach, breathing quietly.

It took longer than Hongjoong wanted before the throbbing ache turned into sleep, but he eventually drifted off until all he felt was Seonghwa’s head resting on his stomach gently. In the darkness of semi-sleep, he was able to finally stop feeling the burn in his throat, offering a quiet relief. 

Still practically unconscious, though, he felt the way the bed shifted as Seonghwa sat up. Distantly, he heard his phone ringing. 

“What did he say?” Seonghwa murmured, his tone the stiff angry one reserved for work, though a gentle hand still resting on Hongjoong’s chest, rubbing gently, as if trying to keep him asleep. “You got the names he was working for?”

The tinny, distant sound of a voice responding through the phone made it quiet enough that Hongjoong began to drift off again. 

“Good,” Seonghwa muttered, running soft touches across Hongjoong’s chest still in comforting, warm swipes. “Get Yeosang and Wooyoung on it. People have been too bold lately. I want a message sent.” 

Hongjoong knew what that meant. 

It wasn’t the first time a “message” had been sent about Hongjoong. And he knew that for their safety, it would never be the last. He used to regret them. But then he realized that he wanted Ateez and Seonghwa safe more than he wanted to feel bad about other gangs getting caught up in the fight they foolishly picked. 

His expression pinching suddenly as a cough built that he tried to suppress. 

Seonghwa’s voice sounded closer, hushing him quietly as gentle fingertips smoothed out the tension between his brows, trailing down his cheek softly, brushing his thumb across the swell of his cheek. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Seonghwa murmured gently. “I’m sorry, Yunho’s on his way,” he whispered comfortingly, stroking Hongjoong’s cheek in feather-light touches. “It’s okay, you’re safe… I promise…” 

Hongjoong knew that he was safe. 

And more than that… he felt safe. 

Sometimes he forgot just how foreign a concept that was, not terribly long ago. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Then

There was a mob boss in his kitchen.

Hongjoong sat on the counter, a cup of coffee in his hand despite the fact that it was 8 PM. 

Maybe he wouldn’t need the coffee if Seonghwa hadn’t showed back up at his apartment door at 8 PM without warning, his expression unreadable.

Hongjoong let him in, asked him if he’d like anything to drink, was refused, made a coffee for himself, and sat on the counter.

Seonghwa had yet to move from his position in the middle of the small kitchen, barely moving even enough to glance around the space.

Hongjoong might have been embarrassed about not cleaning up (magazines, order forms, vases, half drawn out bouquet sheets, and days of mugs and bowls littering every surface), but if Seonghwa even noticed the mess, he didn’t show it.

Hongjoong took a sip of too hot coffee. “Why… did you come?” he asked when the silence became too tense and it was clear Seonghwa wasn’t going to start.

“Are you really not afraid of me?” Seonghwa asked suddenly, as if he had been waiting for Hongjoong to break. He turned from staring at the floral clock on the wall to staring directly at Hongjoong, eyes intent and stiff.

Hongjoong stared back quietly, the coffee burning his hands as he took a slow sip. “It’s not that I’m not afraid of you,” he said over the rim of his cup. “I don’t… I don’t think you’d hesitate to kill me, if I gave you a reason.”

Another sip. Seonghwa’s expression hadn’t changed. And Hongjoong wondered how much of his anger and apathy was a mask, as well.

But whatever Seonghwa had shown up here for… Hongjoong figured it was only right to answer his questions. It wasn’t as if he had anything to hide or be ashamed of. 

“But… as far as thinking you’re the kind of guy who’s going to hurt me just for fun…?” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think you will.”

Hongjoong… didn’t think there was much he could actually hide from Seonghwa. Seonghwa had the face of someone who just always knew when people were lying, when they were hiding… Hongjoong almost didn’t want to bother trying to hide. 

 Or maybe…

Maybe Hongjoong just didn’t really want to hide anything. It was easier, given both of their circumstances… if they didn’t try and hide things.

 Hongjoong’s throat burned a bit when he swallowed, staring at the dark liquid in his cup. “I’m afraid because I know what you can do. But I’m hoping that I’m right, and you won’t.”  

Because Seonghwa… he didn’t feel like Yaechan. Not his smile, not his presence, not even his anger… Somehow a mob boss with a gun made Hongjoong feel less threatened than a prick with a voice.

“… Who was he?”

Hongjoong didn’t ask who he meant.

Seonghwa’s voice was calm and even and unemotional. Hongjoong preferred it like that to anything else.

But when he glanced up, Seonghwa’s eyes…

They looked like they did when he was pinning Hongjoong to an alley wall. When he said he didn’t want to hurt him… that mixture of hardened indifference and something… smoother, not softer.

The very look that had made Hongjoong’s brain stop sending out panicked signals.

Hongjoong didn’t think a first date was really the place for tragic backstories. Least of all when Seonghwa still hadn’t told him why he came here in the first place. 

But Seonghwa was here… they were apparently having this conversation… and Hongjoong had enough coffee to last the night, probably. Did Seonghwa really just come to ask about his past?

He leaned back, his head hitting the cabinets behind him as he tilted his head upwards.

There wasn’t a part of Hongjoong’s life that he was… ashamed of. But there were ones he had buried in the past, resolutely promising to never look back. 

He looked back much too often. 

“His name was Yaechan,” Hongjoong sighed tiredly, letting the cupboard take more of his weight. “I met him during college, I thought he was the love of my life. We moved in together after we graduated, and within a year, he had access to every part of my life.”

He didn’t look at Seonghwa.

Hongjoong liked to think he had healed from Yaechan. He got over his fear of people and dating, and he had a couples matching app on his phone. He didn’t freak out when someone hugged him, and Yaechan was usually nothing more than a passing thought during his life.

But Hongjoong didn’t want to risk reopening anything.

“He told me everything he did was because he loved me, and I let him.” He wet his lips, taking a sip that was awkward because of the angle of his head, letting his hands fall back into his lap. “But when he started getting angry that I was texting some friends I had made from clients… I thought things had gone far enough.”

Hongjoong liked to think that, at the very least, he had been a textbook definition for abusive relationships.

Part of him had been so angry he hadn’t seen it.

“Anytime I brought up his… invasive actions, I was… very quickly shut down. Called insane. Paranoid. He said he did it because he loved me, and if I didn’t want his love, he’d leave.” Hongjoong almost wanted to smile bitterly. 

Seonghwa was being so very quiet, even though Hongjoong could still hear him breathing, so he at least hadn’t left.

“A few times, I got brave and threatened to leave him if he didn’t start talking things out with me. And that very quickly devolved into him convincing me that I was a whore… used goods… a worthless piece of used trash who nearly dropped out of college, and that no one but him would ever even consider having me.”

Hongjoong swallowed, feeling a dull tension behind his eyes.

“And I believed him.”

His neck was beginning to hurt from tilting it back, and he sighed as he lowered it, finally forced to acknowledge Seonghwa.

Seonghwa’s expression was unreadable. Something severe and smooth- like a stone worn down by wind and sand. 

“I stopped fighting him, and just focused on not antagonizing him, even if I knew the things he was doing were wrong,” he said, suddenly feeling the urge to not look away from Seonghwa. Seonghwa didn’t even blink, his jaw stiff. “And when we did fight… I learned not to show how upset I was. Because getting upset only made him threaten to leave, if I didn’t want the love he was giving.”

Actually… Hongjoong wished Seonghwa would show something. Even just something like pity. Or exasperation as he called Hongjoong an idiot for sticking around.

“And then he started grabbing me,” Hongjoong sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes and taking a large sip of coffee. “Throwing me around. Nothing serious or damaging.” He pressed his lips together. “But at that point… I was just afraid of what he would do to me, if I did try and leave or fight him.”

It stopped being about being afraid of Yaechan leaving… and became a fear of what he would physically do to Hongjoong for acting out.

“And I figured out… that showing that I was afraid, that he was scaring me… He didn’t like that.” He laughed humorlessly. “It made him feel like the bad guy. As if he was doing something wrong, when he was just trying to love me-“ 

Another emotionless laugh escaped his lips. 

Hongjoong revelled in the fact that these memories only brought back vague self-deprecation and anger at the man who created it, rather than an echo of fear or discomfort.

“It got to the point that every moment I spent with him…  I thought he was going to hurt me.” He smiled wryly. “He would sit next to me on the couch, and I could just… I could feel the fact that he would grab me or hurt me without hesitation… That in some fucked up part of his brain, he deserved to be able to do that-“

Hongjoong had almost finished his coffee.

Maybe he would need another cup… He cleared his throat, swirling the liquid around.

He wasn’t looking at Seonghwa anymore. 

“That’s what I mean, when I say that I don’t feel threatened by you,” Hongjoong explained quietly. “Yaechan felt like he might snap at any moment. He wasn’t cruel, he was… sick in the head. Not ruled by any sort of empathy or logic besides his own. He was unpredictable because he was fucking insane.” 

Hongjoong had learned that. That Yaechan had been clinically sick in the head for thinking Hongjoong deserved any of what he did. To think that any of what he did was love… 

Realizing that had been a freeing moment for Hongjoong. 

“It was like a fucking snake slithering down my spine, feeling like I should run when he even looked at me.” He cleared his throat roughly. “You’re dangerous… but you’re not crazy like he was.” 

He glanced up.

Seonghwa’s expression held more tightness, anger gathering in the depths of his eyes.

“See?” Hongjoong said, gesturing with his cup gently. “You’re glaring at me… but I still don’t feel like you would grab me off this counter and throw me against a wall. You’re capable of so many things… but I don’t think you’ll do any of them.”

Intent.

That was what Hongjoong had come to value.

Seonghwa could do so many more horrible things than Yaechan ever did. But… if he wouldn’t do those things… if he had all this power over Hongjoong, but wouldn’t use it-

Then what did Hongjoong have to be afraid of?

“It’s not you I’m glaring at,” Seonghwa said, something unlocking in his jaw, as if he were physically stopping himself from appearing so angry. “I’m just… thinking how unfair it all was, to you.”

Hongjoong couldn’t help but chuckle, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve tortured people for information,” he replied dryly but with ironic amusement.

“People who deserved it,” Seonghwa said firmly, fists curling loosely. “People who signed up to that risk, when they entered this life. Those actions held a purpose.” The tension appeared in his jaw again. “What that man did to you…” He shook his head slowly. “It was undeserved and nothing but senseless violence… Which I abhor,” he muttered. 

Hongjoong couldn’t help but feel his lips kick up in bemusement, a certain peace settling over him. “Domestic violence is where you draw the line, I guess?”

“I draw the line at anyone who isn’t scum,” Seonghwa told him, something in his voice… smoothing out around the edges. “Which is why I didn’t want to kill you. You were nothing but an innocent bystander who kept being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Hongjoong maybe didn’t understand the certain moral rules Seonghwa held for himself- if not his whole gang- but he knew he wasn’t some psychopath getting off on the blood on his hands.

And Hongjoong wanted to laugh at the fact he felt safer beside a man with a gun at his side and blood on his hands… than he had beside a man with no weapons and a volatile personality.

But… Seonghwa was staring at him… sorry that Hongjoong had gone through these things… regretful that he’d been hurt like that… 

Yaechan had never regretted hurting Hongjoong.  

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong mused lightly, a tired smile on his lips. “I was in a pretty good place and time when I saw you on the patio of the café.”

Seonghwa’s expression pulled down rapidly, equal parts confused and dark as he stared at Hongjoong in bewilderment.

“Why do you want this?” Seonghwa asked under his breath, eyes narrowed in dark confusion. “Could I possibly be so attractive to you that you’d risk everything like this?”

Hongjoong almost wanted to laugh. He settled for an amused half-smile.

“My standards for men are exactly as high as I think it takes for them not to physically abuse me,” Hongjoong said honestly, shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah, I thought you were ridiculously attractive when I first saw you-“

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought that the deathly gorgeous man he’d seen staring was a fucking gang leader.

“But… you rejected me kindly,” Hongjoong reminded him, shrugging and staring down at his meager amount of coffee left. “And… you looked at me kindly. And you came back to the shop, which confused me for a bit, but you were… nice when you told me you weren’t trying to make fun of me…”

Hongjoong hopped off the counter, walking the short distance to the coffeemaker and pouring the last of the pot into his cup, only filling it halfway.

“Fuck it- Seonghwa, you were probably the sweetest guy I’ve met in months,” he stressed, turning back around and leaning against the counter. “Which… is why it stung more than a little… when we met outside the café and you basically told me to fuck off.”

Hongjoong took a slow sip of hot coffee, and Seonghwa’s fist clenched at his side as something softer appeared in his eyes. Almost like regret. Hongjoong wet his lips as Seonghwa appeared to be struggling with something.

Seonghwa… regretted a lot of things, didn’t he? 

Yaechan didn’t regret things. Yaechan was probably a fucking sociopath. Seonghwa at least had a moral compass that worked with emotions. 

“That guy… The one you were meeting with,” he murmured over the rim of his mug. “He’s… part of your gang? That’s why you wanted me gone?”

Seonghwa rolled his lips, stiff expression finally turning away from Hongjoong as he stared off to the side in visible frustration. “Changsun… is one of my informants,” he said darkly. “One of the best… but also a very slimy, malicious person. I keep my own distance from him, and I knew that if he saw the two of us involved, he’d only think of you as another game he can play.”

Hongjoong hadn’t exactly been fond of the guy. He’d been… off-putting.

Really… he’d made Hongjoong feel sort of like Yaechan had.

Hongjoong lowered his mug, though, his bottom lip being abused by his chewing for a moment as Seonghwa stared at him with a sharp tension around his eyes that seemed too smooth and soft compared to earlier. 

“You were trying to protect me,” he whispered, expression pinching in realization. 

“I was trying to keep you out of it,” Seonghwa said firmly, looking back at Hongjoong with a glare that wasn’t meant for him. “I try and keep everyone who isn’t directly involved out of it.”

“You stared at me first,” Hongjoong reminded Seonghwa pointedly. “You came back to the shop. You kept coming back to watch me…” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve stayed in my bubble, aside from approaching you at the café. I think you’re the one who needs to explain why you’re willing to risk everything for me. ”

Seonghwa’s expression darkened. But Hongjoong knew self-deprecation and anger when he saw it.

The way Seonghwa made it sound, he was basically risking a whole lot of people and lives by continuing to see Hongjoong. But he’d also made it clear that he was ignoring those consequences he risked.

Hongjoong was risking himself. Seonghwa was the one apparently risking everything he’d ever built.

“If we’re going to keep demanding why we’re doing this, maybe it’s not the best idea to do it,” Hongjoong said quietly, grip tightening on his mug, “But, then again… you’ve been saying from the beginning that it’s not a good idea. But you’re still here, in my apartment, at 8 P.M., Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa seemed frustrated with himself.

And maybe Hongjoong would feel flattered that Seonghwa was willing to risk and ignore so many warnings, just for him, but… It didn’t exactly feel the best to know that someone was pissed at themselves for liking you.

“I’m the one who got myself into this mess,” Seonghwa finally muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair, expression stressed but smooth. “I suppose… I should at least do you the favor of being honest with you.”

Hongjoong wet his lips. “That would be appreciated, yes.”

Seonghwa sighed, running another messing hand through his hair.

“You… Your hair caught my attention,” Seonghwa admitted quietly, almost shamed as he stared at Hongjoong’s hair that was probably a mess, since he had been balancing his books earlier. “The first time I approached you… was equal parts ensuring that you weren’t someone out to get me… and curiosity.”

His eyes flickered lower to look Hongjoong in the eye. And if Hongjoong didn’t know better, he’d think there was almost something admiring there.

“Curiosity,” he continued slowly, “over some normal person… who went around leaving flowers after being painfully obvious about the fact that they were staring at me. And who… kindly accepted my rejection.” Seonghwa’s lips twitched, even as he frowned. “You…. You were smiling, even though I could tell that the rejection hurt you.”

“‘Hurt’ might be a strong word,” Hongjoong interjected, unable to stop the forced laugh in his throat. “‘Awkward’ might be better. I mean… I took my first chance in months, and you were so nice about it, I almost felt bad for making you have to reject me.”

Hongjoong watched as something visibly unlocked in Seonghwa’s eyes.

“That,” Seonghwa said, nodding at Hongjoong. “That, right there… It’s been a long time since I’ve interacted with someone outside of KQ and the scum we deal with. But I know the last normal person I spoke to wasn’t as… bright as you.”

Holy shit, Hongjoong wasn’t expecting an outright compliment, his face heating like a flash bang had suddenly gone off in his face.

He hid behind his coffee mug, taking too large of a sip and nearly choking.

“I’m not- Bright is a strong word,” he laughed awkwardly. “I work in customer service, you have to-“

“That’s why I went back,” Seonghwa broke in, as if Hongjoong hadn’t disputed him. “I… I wanted to see your smile again.”

Hongjoong did choke on his coffee at that.

“I was hoping that seeing you again would get you out of my head. Clearly… it didn’t work.” 

Seonghwa didn’t look concerned, continuing to stare calmly at Hongjoong with that odd smoothness in his eyes.

Hongjoong was currently trying to get coffee out of his lungs, hacking into his hand as he put the coffee cup on the counter to keep from dropping it.

“What- the fuck?” Hongjoong wheezed in between coughing fits that burned. 

Seonghwa merely raised a slow eyebrow. “You asked why I was willing to risk it.”

“Yeah,” he squeaked as he straightened. “But like- Do you have to be ridiculous about it?” he demanded, breathless as he beat his chest lightly to rid the last bit of coffee burning there. “God- we’re being serious right now, and you’re-“

“I’m completely serious.”

Hongjoong didn’t look at Seonghwa, head bowed to his chest as he clenched his eyes shut, praying for patience, and also an end to the burning in his chest that wasn’t related to the coffee.

“Fine, you liked my smile,” Hongjoong muttered quickly, waving a flippant hand. “That’s all it took for you to make all these horrible decisions?”

Seonghwa was silent for a moment. “It appears so.”

Hongjoong laughed in sour disbelief. “Seriously?” he demanded, glancing up.

“You risked it just for one slightly nicer guy.”

“…So we’re both idiots.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched, though his eyes were still dark. “I suppose so.”

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing at his cheek. “Lovely.” He continued scrubbing at his face for a few minutes, the pressure feeling good on his tired skin, until he groaned, ceasing the abuse to his face. “So… why are you here now?” he questioned carefully. 

Seonghwa’s hair was slightly messed from his hands running through it, and he reached up idly to fix it. “I already told you.”

Hongjoong pressed his lips together, feeling embarrassment creep up his neck, but hoping it wasn’t actually visible. “Right… my smile,” he said, a breathless, disbelieving laugh caught in his throat.

Seonghwa didn’t seem embarrassed about admitting that he liked Hongjoong’s smile. Which was impressive, because Hongjoong could hardly say it with a straight face.

“Well, sorry I haven’t been smiling much,” Hongjoong chuckled, one side of his mouth quirked up apologetically. “I wasn’t sure why you were here, and then… well, today was accounting day, so my brain is currently less solid than jello.”

He’d spent the day hunched over a bunch of number sheets, and that was always the day that Hongjoong went to bed early, rather than staying up until outrageous hours.

He nodded to the coffee table in the living room that had a messy pile of books and his laptop sitting on them.

“That’s been my life for the past eight hours,” he chuckled. “So you’re lucky I’m even conscious right now.”    

Seonghwa glanced at the little pile. “I’m glad I have someone else to order to do that,” he admitted quietly, sounding completely serious, but Hongjoong couldn’t tell if he was trying to make a joke or not.

He rolled his lips slowly, looking Seonghwa up and down. He was dressed in a nice suit with a long overcoat, sparklingly perfect dress shoes poking out sharply… Very similar dress to how he always was.

“That was… real, wasn’t it?” Hongjoong asked, still staring at Seonghwa’s shoes. “That… When you first came into the shop, when you were so nice… That nice conversation we had when I made you that bouquet…” He swallowed as he raised his eyes.

Seonghwa’s expression was more open, something almost pained in it.

“That was… a real part of you, wasn’t it?” he asked slowly. “It wasn’t just… I don’t know, some sort of act?”

Hongjoong wasn’t acting like he had in the shop, either. He was more guarded than before, but…he was sure that the nice guy he met the first time was actually Seonghwa. Hopefully.

Seonghwa just seemed so closed off, so regretful of his choices…

“It was,” Seonghwa assured him quietly. “I’m not… like that often, given the people I’m around. But… it wasn’t an act, no. I genuinely enjoyed our conversation.”

Hongjoong breathed a silent sigh of relief as Seonghwa’s expression closed off again, almost like he was bracing himself.

“But… you’ve been acting, haven’t you?” he asked, making Hongjoong’s blood turn icy for a terrifying moment. “Like you said… you hide it when you’re scared. You did it at our last meeting in your shop, when I alluded that you didn’t understand what it was to be threatened.”

Part of Hongjoong wanted to ask why the hell he remembered that, but he supposed… Seonghwa was probably good at that sort of stuff, being who he was.

Holy shit, this was a fucking gang leader who was casually talking out their relationship.

And Hongjoong’s mom had wanted him to find a nice doctor. 

“It’s… It’s not an act,” he said quickly, glancing away. “I just… It’s just what I do. I’m used to it now, I don’t- It’s- You- I don’t-“

“You’re tired,” Seonghwa broke in, making Hongjoong look up sharply, expression probably way too open and vulnerable. Seonghwa stared at him with the barest hints of sympathy in his eyes. “I’ll go now,” he said, nodding his head. “We can discuss things another time.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to say something, but Seonghwa was already turning away, walking with tiny taps of his shoes on the tile.

“Hey- Wait,” Hongjoong called, walking after him, one hand outstretched-

Seonghwa turned back around, expression calm, but Hongjoong snatched his hand back, swallowing.

 “I’m off by 9 most nights,” Hongjoong said, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “And free all day Sundays and Wednesdays. Do you… want to meet up for dinner one night?”

Holy shit, this was bold for Hongjoong.

“Or… are normal dates not… something you do?” he asked, waving an awkward hand between them.

Seonghwa continued to stare for a moment, but Hongjoong could practically see the gears in his head turning. “I’ll see you Friday at 10?” he said, something in his expression softening as he said it.  

Hongjoong pushed through the lump in his throat. “Sure,” he answered, managing a smile through the part of him that was mortified at the entirety of tonight’s events.

He saw Seonghwa’s eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up to his eyes.

The most genuine smile of the night took Seonghwa’s lips gently, something warm directed at Hongjoong that reached his eyes- suddenly changing them from smooth stone to softened chocolate.

“I’ll send you the information later,” Seonghwa promised, that smile still on his lips as he nodded once more in farewell.

He was gone before Hongjoong even realized he hadn’t responded, the door clicking shut quietly.

Hongjoong promptly stumbled over and collapsed on the couch, shaking, but not from anything close to fear.

It almost felt giddy. Like excitement. And it had been a long time since Hongjoong had been excited about someone. (A gang leader was just as good to get excited over as a doctor, right?)

It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning that he frowned. “How the hell did he know where I lived?” he muttered while he was brushing his teeth, frowning into the mirror.

He decided not to ask.

That might just be the best course of action, if this was going to work out.

His frown shifting into a stupid grin as he realized that Friday was only four days away. He slapped his face to clear it of the dopey smile, glaring in determination as he grabbed a coffee and headed towards the shop.

(He slapped himself three more times on the way, to get rid of his stupid grin.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Now

“I look hot in this, right?”

Seonghwa glanced up from where he was typing something on his phone, legs crossed and stretched out before him on the bed, expression curious.

Hongjoong stood outside the bathroom door, arms spread and twirling back and forth in front of the body length mirror on the wall.

Adorning his body was a pair of tight leather pants that hugged the curve of his ass almost painfully tight, stretching down his legs that suddenly seemed infinitely longer than his height allowed.

With his back turned, all Seonghwa saw himself was the back of a studded leather jacket that fit across Hongjoong’s small shoulders sharply. However, glancing past him, he could see his front in the mirror.

And beneath the open lapels of the leather jacket was a sheer, lace crop top that fell just above Hongjoong’s midriff, hugging the curve of his waist with an elastic band that curved to him perfectly. Another elastic band hugged his neck- the lace just thick enough across his chest to not appear like a raunchy club-goer. 

The choker hid most of the faded bruising from a week ago. 

Seonghwa dropped his phone onto the bed. “Holy shit.”

Hongjoong stopped fluffing his hair that was growing past his collar, looking at Seonghwa through the mirror with a bright grin appearing on his lips at his reaction.

“It’s not bad, isn’t it?” he asked vibrantly, spinning around and spreading his arms. “Wooyoung said he saw it and thought of me. I thought I was gonna look like a desperate club rat, but…” He spun back around, tugging at the jacket with a bright smile. “I look hot as fuck.”

He turned back to Seonghwa, whose mouth had long since gone dry as he traced eyes over the tanned skin peeking over the top of the leather pants and below the elastic band.

Hongjoong’s skin was always so smooth and soft… Maybe Seonghwa had a few too many obsessions with it, over the course of the years. But he knew Hongjoong preened under the attention.

(Sometimes Seonghwa thought that as much as he had a Thing for telling Hongjoong every little thing he loved about him, he was sure that Hongjoong had a Thing for being told all the things about him that were gorgeous.)

“Remind me to give Wooyoung a raise.”

Which was a statement Seonghwa was sure he’d never say in his life, but if it meant getting to see Hongjoong in this, he’d give the man a handwritten thank you card.

Hongjoong laughed, chuckling to himself as he turned back and examined himself in the mirror again, getting closer and touching his chest and stomach before smiling in satisfaction.

“Oh my God, I want to go to a club or something,” he laughed, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet, arms coming to his chest like a child in excitement. “With some smokey eyeliner- Some glitter gloss! Seonghwa, do you understand the possibilities?” he demanded, glancing back at him in the mirror.

Seonghwa stared at him for a moment, lips turning up slowly as he stood. “I’m sure that anything you put together would look absolutely stunning,” he assured him, walking up behind him slowly (admiring as he went).

Hongjoong chuckled, smiling so hard, it must hurt as he touched the elastic band at his neck. “Now, I wanna paint my nails,” he muttered absently, looking at the long, dainty nails.

“I’m also sure that any look you put together would be an absolute dream for me to take apart,” Seonghwa murmured as he wrapped his arms around Hongjoong’s bare waist, reveling in the feeling of the soft skin of his abdomen under his hands.

Hongjoong shivered, even as he laughed, laying his hands over Seonghwa’s as he started mouthing at his neck, just above the elastic band.

“I should have known you had a thing for leather,” Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head willing and closing his eyes in pleasurable bliss.

“No, I just have a thing for you,” Seonghwa mumbled against his skin, dragging his teeth across the space beneath his ear just enough to tickle, making Hongjoong’s body vibrate slightly within his grip.

Hongjoong hummed, leaning back into Seonghwa’s grip as he stared at himself through lidded eyes in the mirror. He reached a hand back, threading fingers through Seonghwa’s dark locks and holding on as Seonghwa finally glanced up without lifting his head.

Their dark eyes met in the mirror, and Hongjoong smiled, laughing breathlessly. “God, I look really hot. I don’t know how I’m gonna face Wooyoung after knowing he did this,” he laughed.

Seonghwa kept Hongjoong’s gaze, feeling him lean back into Seonghwa leisurely, flickering between watching himself and then Seonghwa, fingers massaging Seonghwa’s scalp pleasantly.

Seonghwa bit down a bit harder on his shoulder, making Hongjoong gasp quietly and tug on his hair in retaliation. “Behave,” he said breathlessly as Seonghwa tightened his grip around Hongjoong’s tiny waist that practically disappeared under his arms.

“Do you know how mesmerizing it is, watching you love yourself?” Seonghwa whispered, lips brushing the sensitive skin he had been lightly abusing.

He could feel the way Hongjoong’s breath stuttered in his stomach as Seonghwa trailed warm kisses up his neck to his ear.

“Watching you love yourself… compliment yourself… I don’t think there’s anything I love more in the world,” he murmured warmly, feeling the way Hongjoong swallowed.

It wasn’t like Hongjoong loving himself was a new thing.

But Seonghwa still held those memories of their beginning days when he realized just how affected Hongjoong still was by that bastard he wouldn’t let Seonghwa hunt down.  

The days when he would see Hongjoong pose in the mirror before his mouth would twist, and he’d change his shirt. When he’d tug at and shift around his shirt before putting on a hoodie and zipping it up tightly over the outfit he’d picked out. Or the times when he would spend just a bit too much time on hair before giving up, in frustration, rather than satisfaction.

And hearing those beautiful lips complimenting himself, posing and examining himself and finding all the things he liked again…

Seonghwa didn’t think himself an emotional man, but that alone was enough to bring him to his knees.

(In multiple ways, if Hongjoong asked.)

There was nothing more beautiful than watching the love of your life love themselves.

“I do love myself,” Hongjoong murmured, a warm, nostalgic smile on his lips as he spun in Seonghwa’s arms until they were chest to chest and his arms were wrapping around Seonghwa’s neck. “And I love you, too,” he whispered, lips barely brushing Seonghwa’s. 

Seonghwa kissed him lightly, pulling away as Hongjoong whine at the short duration. “I love you,” he murmured against soft lips. 

Hongjoong smiled, warm and content and more than skin deep as he leaned against Seonghwa’s chest, simply embracing for a moment as Seonghwa tugged him closer. 

A leg knocked against Seonghwa’s gently. “So are you going to help me out of these clothes, or am I doing it myself?” he asked quietly, a laugh chasing his tone. 

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa murmured against the lobe of Hongjoong’s ear. “I sort of like the idea of keeping them on… You’re so beautiful in them…” 

Hongjoong laughed outright at that, head hanging and resting against Seonghwa’s chest firmly. “If you think I’m ruining these clothes before I have a chance to go to a club in them…” 

“Fine,” Seonghwa sighed in exasperation, hands traveling slowly up the bare skin of Hongjoong’s back beneath the jacket, feeling him shiver. “Then I’ll remove them very carefully.” 

“Seonghwa.”

“It’s beautiful clothing,” he continued one, fingers slipping beneath the elastic band gently. “I’d hate to ruin it-” 

“Seonghwa, don’t tease-” 

“We have to take our time. Could take hours-” 

“I’ll tear these clothes off of myself if you don’t have me naked in five seconds,” Hongjoong laughed, hitting his head against Seonghwa’s chest. 

 Seonghwa hummed, locking arms around Hongjoong and tugging him close until he was forced to look up at Seonghwa, noses brushing. “Call yourself beautiful again,” he murmured quietly.

Hongjoong chuckled, looping arms loosely around Seonghwa’s neck once more. “I’m beautiful- and you are, too. Gorgeous. Now, can I be naked with you, please?”

Seonghwa chuckled, but pushed the leather jacket off of his shoulders, listening to it hit the ground as Hongjoong was already shedding the lace top. 

And even if he was laughing and rolling his eyes… Seonghwa knew that his statement was sincere. 

As much as Seonghwa loved Hongjoong… there was nothing better than seeing the love of his life love himself. 

~~~~~~~~~

Then 

Hongjoong tried not to be too loud as he placed his fork down on the table, listening to the little clink that he couldn’t stop from sounding in the near silence of the restaurant, no matter how careful he was. 

There was a salad in front of him and a glass of wine as they waited for the main course. Apparently, this place only served one type of coursed meal each day. So like… a fancy fancy place. 

And he and Seonghwa were one pair of only about three other tables in the entire dining area, the silence nearly deafening. 

The salad was crisp and light and delicious, but Hongjoong was paranoid that even his breathing was loud enough to disturb the tables around them. 

“You’re uncomfortable…” 

Hongjoong stopped glancing around at the surrounding tables, eyes snapping back to Seonghwa quickly, who stared at him with quiet, concerned severity. 

“What? No,” he replied quickly, picking up his wine glass and swirling it for no reason. “We’ve only been here ten minutes, why would I be uncomfortable?” 

He wasn’t defensive. He was just a bit… awkward. 

Not uncomfortable. Awkward. 

Seonghwa was silent for a few moments, and Hongjoong was almost afraid to look back up at him, staring resolutely at his wine that he hadn’t taken a sip of. 

“We can leave, if you’d like...”  

Hongjoong did look up at that, because the tone of Seonghwa’s voice was completely different. 

The somber tension around his eyes and mouth had faded, leaving just a smooth, quiet concern with a gentle frown that looked genuinely apologetic and open to leaving the restaurant, without issue. 

Hongjoong found his jaw tightening slightly as he stared at him, touched by the genuineness, but setting his glass down slowly. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, I’m getting a little whiplashed,” he sighed, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Whiplash?” Seonghwa's voice prompted gently, just like the first time they’d met at Hongjoong’s shop- soft and kind. 

“Just- You keep switching,” Hongjoong said quietly, feeling embarrassment curling in his stomach as he refused to look at Seonghwa. “You’re- I mean, one second you’re sort of… cold and severe, and then… like now, you’re- you look like you did back before at the shop-” 

He accidentally glanced at Seonghwa. 

And his expression was softened, something regretful and apologetic in his eyes. 

Hongjoong winced. “I’m not- You just- you said that the person you were at the shop was real. So, I just want to know what… Which part of you should I expect?” he said, almost trailing off for how stupid it sounded. 

He did not feel threatened by Seonghwa. 

But… he thought that once they agreed on what they were, then the silent stoicism might go away. 

Seonghwa lowered his fork, setting it on the table with a gentle expression aimed at Hongjoong. “Come on,” he said quietly, standing and setting his napkin aside. “We’ll talk… somewhere else.” 

Hongjoong stood as Seonghwa did, shaking his head. “We don’t have to-” 

“This isn’t really the place for conversation,” Seonghwa said, lips quirking up quietly as he gestured Hongjoong towards the door. “I don’t know why I picked it, since… well, it’s clear we have a lot to talk about still.” 

“What about the bill-” 

“It’ll be taken care of,” Seonghwa assured him as they both exited through the doors without looking back. “There are some food stalls further down the street,” he noted, a warm hand suddenly resting against the small of Hongjoong’s back. “We’ll talk on the way.” 

Hongjoong glanced up at Seonghwa, but there was no sign of annoyance, exasperation, or any sort of negative emotion. 

He almost looked amused- a quiet amusement that mingled with something like lingering apologeticism. 

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said quietly as they began to walk down the sidewalk that was dark and empty at this time of night. “I didn’t mean-” 

“Is it wrong to want to go somewhere more comfortable?” Seonghwa asked plainly. “Is there something wrong with being concerned that the person you’re with is having apparent mood swings?” 

“I don’t think they’re mood swings,” Hongjoong pressed firmly. “I just-” He stopped himself, at a loss for the right words. 

“You don’t like games,” Seonghwa said quietly, something in his hand tensing, and it was only then that Hongjoong realized the gentle touch was still resting on his back- barely even there. “I can’t blame you for wanting to know what to expect. And I should have had the courtesy to give you that.” 

Hongjoong chewed on his cheek roughly, frowning gently at the sidewalk they walked down. 

Every second with Seonghwa… only highlighted the difference from all of Hongjoong’s past experiences. 

How was a fucking gang leader the most gentlemen-like man Hongjoong had met in years? How was he the one who had the most understanding- the most empathy- for Hongjoong and all the things that came with him?

Hongjoong chewed his lip for a moment before releasing it. “Thank you,” he said, setting aside the urges to apologize and merely being grateful that Seonghwa…. 

That he was kind. 

“I’m sorry for confusing you,” Seonghwa murmured, the hand from Hongjoong’s back suddenly retreating, as if he’d suddenly realized it was there. “Those were… unconscious actions.” 

Hongjoong remembered a time when he hid himself completely. 

When… everything about him had become nothing but a polite, quiet version that was meant to reduce aggression as much as possible. He remembered the process of forcibly teaching himself to shed those lies. 

He remembered crying the first time he looked at a mirror and saw himself for the first time in years. The him that had been there before Yaechan. 

He still kept the part of him that hid fear, though. He’d learned that, in general, it was better to appear calm or unbothered. It was useful. 

But he knew… that when you wore a mask long enough, it was hard to remember to take it off. 

“I work… in a very specific and controlled environment,” Seonghwa told him as they passed apartments and walked through streetlights. “And I am a very specific and controlled way in that environment. I told you what I’ve done, what I do…my responsibilities and my duties… It’s not an act. It is who I am and who I have to be.” 

That night in the cafe almost seemed surreal, the two of them sitting with coffee as Seonghwa explained that he killed people, stole things, smuggled things… Because that was his life. 

“I have certain emotions when I deal with work,” Seonghwa said, staring straight ahead with an expression that was still gentle and smooth. “And I have certain ones when I’m not working. I just… haven’t not worked in a long time now. I’ve had very few reasons not to be in work mode, other than when I sit and order a coffee or something equally normal.” 

Hongjoong understood that, at least, in some way. 

Working in customer service was a bitch. 

“The way I am around you- the way I was before- it is actually who I am when I’m not working,” he assured Hongjoong gently, his voice almost turning… warm. “And I want to be that person around you- to have a reason to finally stop thinking about work… but it’s hard to just stop.” 

Hongjoong swallowed quietly. “I’m sorry-” 

“It’s nothing you should apologize for,” Seonghwa assured him quickly, and when Hongjoong glanced up, he was smiling gently, though something was sad in it. “It’s just… harder now, than before, because now you’re actually involved in both sides. Part of me is still telling me to treat you like a threat. And the other part just wants to actually forget about work for two consecutive minutes.” 

He watched Seonghwa glance away, jaw flexing in indecision. 

“There’s a part of me that knows I want to protect you… but the only way I know how to defend someone is through things related to work. And I want to be open and kind to you… but it’s been so long since I’ve gotten to be that. I’ve seen you as a threat, and now I’m trying to convince myself to just let go- ” 

“It’s hard… to do that.” 

Seonghwa stopped and blinked at Hongjoong, taken aback. 

Hongjoong stared at him, smiling wryly. “I don’t… understand everything about you. But… I know that it’s hard, trying to change. It takes time, and it sucks.” He ended with an awkward laugh. 

Seonghwa continued to stare. 

He wet his lips. “I don’t need you to flip a switch,” he assured him. “I just wanted to know what to expect…” He nodded slowly. “And now I know. So thanks… for being honest.” 

He watched the surprise fade from Seonghwa’s face until there was only that quiet, warm smile like the one he’d given before leaving Hongjoong’s apartment. 

They shared an order of tteokbokki and meat skewers, sitting at a little plastic table under a tent with only a streetlamp and the stalls’ lights to see by. 

The first few bites were had in silence, until Hongjoong finally quelled the hunger in his stomach enough to feel brave. 

“How was your day?” he asked around the rice in his mouth. 

Seonghwa looked surprised, yet again, by the question, but Hongjoong just looked on curiously, taking another bite and waiting. He swallowed his food, glancing around subtly before settling down in his chair. 

“Good,” Seonghwa answered lightly, nodding slowly. “A bit frustrating with the meetings I was in, but… things went well.” 

Hongjoong nodded along, feeling his lips twitch. “Things going well… as in… illegal things?” he asked quietly, watching Seonghwa observe him for a moment before his expression relaxed. 

“Nothing explicitly illegal happened,” he responded. “At least, not today. Tomorrow, though… might be a different story.” 

Hongjoong chewed the end of his chopsticks for a moment, staring off. “Well…. I hope you’ll be safe, doing whatever it is.” He didn’t know specifics, but he knew that it probably involved the gun at Seonghwa’s hip. 

He didn’t expect the sharp laugh that escaped Seonghwa, short but genuine as he grinned, making Hongjoong lift a curious eyebrow. 

“It’s just that ‘being safe’ isn’t the response I expected when informing you I’d be partaking in illicit activities tomorrow,” Seonghwa said, chuckling as he wiped at his mouth with a napkin. 

The air around the two of them seemed to lift, allowing for an easy breath to come as Hongjoong found himself smiling quietly. “I agreed to date a mob boss, and asking you to be safe is the crazy thing?” 

“The whole thing is crazy,” Seonghwa assured him, still holding a laugh in his chest. “I’m still trying to understand how the hell I wound up here.” 

Hongjoong smiled quietly. “Do you regret it?” he asked lightly, tilting his head curiously. 

Seonghwa glanced at him, his smiling disappearing, though his expression remained light enough to not kill their atmosphere. “I’m more worried about you regretting it,” he said quietly, glancing down at their food. 

A car roared down the road, loud in the silence. 

“I’ve regretted a lot more than you could probably make me,” Hongjong assured him quietly, smile still in place, though he was sure it didn’t reach his eyes completely. 

“Yes, but my regrets could get you killed,” Seonghwa said sharply, though not unkindly as he looked up at Hongjoong pointedly. The sharpness died away quickly though as he glanced away. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to deter you, I-” 

Hongjoong shook his head slowly. “We’re taking risks here,” he said plainly. “We both are. And both of us are probably gonna have some regrets at some points.” He shrugged helplessly, lips quirked up. “Hopefully, we just find the good stuff to go with that, right?” 

Seonghwa stared for a moment, looking stunned. 

Hongjoong had a lot of regrets. And he knew that Seonghwa was probably going to come with his own regrets. But… hopefully, that wasn’t all they got out of this. 

Their relationship was going to be burdened. It was going to have some dark stuff following them, and it wasn’t all going to come from Seonghwa. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Hongjoong admitted, feeling his lips tug up further the longer Seonghwa appeared speechless. “I haven’t gotten past ‘hey, come here often?’ in about four years now. I’m optimistic.” 

“You’re insane,” Seonghwa said, a little breathless. 

But his tone… was one you might hear say ‘you’re beautiful,’ instead. 

Hongjoong couldn’t help the smile that stole his lips, an embarrassed laugh on his lips as Seonghwa’s expression softened. 

I wanted to see your smile again. 

His heart was practically bruising his ribcage for how hard it was pounding, twisting in a giddy feeling that Hongjoong didn’t know the source of. 

Was this person in front of him actually real? 

They ate their food. Hongjoong talked about an order he was working on for a wedding, which was always a good time. 

They stood, and Seonghwa offered to drive him home. Hongjoong… considered for a minute before shrugging. “Sure.” 

The night had been pretty normal, outside of their brief serious conversation… and Hongjoong was enjoying himself. 

He was hopeful. 

Seonghwa’s car was nice and sleek, and the seats were comfortable, which Hongjoong noted as he climbed in, which made Seonghwa chuckle for whatever reason. 

“So… this is probably a super rude question,” Hongjoong said as they stopped at a light. “But… you’re in a gang. So, you’ve got, like… a lot of money right? Running illicit activity?” 

He glanced at Seonghwa to see his reaction, and found his lips twitching as he stared out the windshield as they began moving again. “Yes, I suppose you could say I have a lot of money. I’m certainly not hurting for anything, nor are the people under me.” 

Hongjoong hummed. “Cool.” 

Seonghwa laughed, shoulders shaking as he continued to drive, expression scrunching as he grinned, hunching over the wheel-

“Why do you keep laughing at me?” Hongjoong demanded, his own defensive laugh stuck in his chest, spreading his arms. “I’m making conversation!” 

Seonghwa shook his head quickly, waving an apologetic hand, though he was still laughing. “No- but it’s just been a long time since I’ve met someone so… so-” 

“Ignorant?” Hongjoong offered, smirking as he crossed his arms pointedly. 

“Unrelated to work,” Seonghwa said, over-enunciating and smiling at Hongjoong. “I haven’t had to make polite conversation in a while.” 

“So it’s funny that I make it?”

“Yes.” 

“I’m beginning to think you’re not as nice as I thought,” Hongjoong said, leaning back and staring at Seonghwa in shock. He laughed breathlessly. “I mean- you show up, with your gun and your nice car and your- your stupid hair- ” 

Hair that looked very soft. 

“My hair isn’t stupid, ” Seonghwa gasped in disbelief, glancing at Hongjoong to see if he was serious. “It’s normal! You’re the one who looks like your hair got a bad sunburn.”

“I spent thirty dollars on this dye!” Hongjoong snapped back, aghast as he pressed a hand to his chest. “It turned out great, for doing it myself!” He glanced Seonghwa over. “Holy shit, you’re mean.”  

 “You insulted my hair first!” Seonghwa laughed in disbelief, glancing at Hongjoong while keeping his eyes on the road. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “It’s stupid because it looks perfect and nice and soft- there are you happy? Mr. I-probably-didn’t-even-style-it-this-morning.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, looking ready to retort, before he snapped it shut. “Okay,  I didn’t style it this morning-” 

“See!”

“But why does that make it stupid? That doesn’t even make sense!” he demanded helplessly. “I’m being attacked, and I don’t understand why!” 

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing at his face. “You need to hang out with more normal people,” he sighed. “Calling someone’s hair stupid is like… the highest compliment you can give.” He gestured vaguely, chuckling to himself at the ridiculousness of it all. 

There was a long moment of silence as Seonghwa pulled up the curb beside Hongjoong’s apartment building. 

Seonghwa stared out of the windshield pointedly for a moment, expression clear.

“Your hair,” he murmured, not looking at Hongjoong. “It’s stupid.” 

Hongjoong blinked in surprise, and then it cleared into laughter about to break out of his chest… and then it faded in embarrassment as he flushed, shoving the car door open roughly. “Your face is stupid-” 

“Is that a compliment, too?”

Hongjoong whipped back around, face burning as he pointed a threatening finger at Seonghwa, who looked ready to break down into laughter any moment.  

His eyes were light, with the smile on his face. 

In the dim light of the car, it made them sparkle a little. 

Fuck. 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly. “I’ll kiss you,” he threatened seriously, chest tightening as Seonghwa blinked and then smiled slowly. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Seonghwa asked quietly, glancing Hongjoong up and down. 

“I promise I’m threatening you.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, leaning on the steering wheel leisurely. “Keep talking like that, I might have to threaten to let you.” 

Hongjoong was either going to combust from embarrassment or just die. 

He clenched his fists as Seonghwa’s smile turned into more a of a stupid, pretty smirk. 

“Oh, for the love of-” 

Hongjoong grabbed the dash as he surged forward, pressing a light kiss to the very corner of Seonghwa’s mouth, backing away and exiting the car before he could say anything. 

Just the short time in his space told him that Seonghwa smelled like mint and laundry detergent. Hongjoong shut the door quickly, face burning and his stomach about to flip inside and out at his life choices- 

He heard the window rolling down and turned away quickly, crossing his arms tightly. 

He heard the laughter in Seonghwa’s voice as he called, “Your aim sucks.” He tapped the corner of his mouth in accusation.  

Hongjoong took a slow breath to calm the burning in his face as he whipped back around, glaring in a way that probably looked as threatening as a kitten. 

“Well, maybe we’ll just have to practice until it gets better!” he practically shouted, as if he were declaring war, rather than inviting intimacy. 

He saw Seonghwa’s lips lift further, something sparking in his eyes. “Still free on Wednesday?” 

Hongjoong nodded stubbornly. 

“I’ll text you.” 

“You better,” Hongjoong said firmly, though something was swelling in his chest. “I don’t just have first dates and then run.” 

His eyes softened. “I’ll see you later, Hongjoong.” 

The flames on his face calmed enough for him to nod. “I’ll see you later,” he responded, calmer. “Thanks… Thanks for a good night.” 

It had been a long… long time since something like this had gone right for Hongjoong. 

“It was good for me, too,” Seonghwa said quietly. “... See you later.” 

He drove off slowly, Hongjoong waving as he left, standing there for a while after he was gone. Even though the wind was a bit chilly when it ran through, Hongjoong felt like he was standing in his own personal bubble of warmth. 

Fucking hell. 

He smelled like mint and laundry detergent. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Now  

Hongjoong sighed, bored to tears, but more comfortable and content then he’d been in some time.

He sat side by side with Seonghwa at the head of the meeting table, the rest of Ateez spread around the table’s perimeter with piles of documents and blueprints scattered across the surface.

Hongjoong didn’t often join in on meetings, mostly because they were boring and about people he didn’t care about or topics he’d rather not involve himself with. And he was usually working. But it was Sunday, and Seonghwa had paused where he had been about to enter, throwing Hongjoong a fond expression.

“Care to join?” he had asked, gesturing into the room.

On any other occasion, Hongjoong might decline, but his phone was on 35%, and he was bored since the others had been busy all day.

He could either be bored out here or bored next to Seonghwa.

So, he was sitting in the chair beside Seonghwa, chairs lined up as Hongjoong leaned his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder comfortably while the rest of the team went about business as usual, none of them minding Hongjoong’s presence.

Hongjoong tucked a hand under his head to protect it from the bone of Seonghwa’s shoulder, sighing quietly as he shifted a bit closer, eyes watching the table as Yunho pointed out a path through a building.

“What sort of camerawork?” Seonghwa asked, leaned forward, as close to the table as he could be without disturbing Hongjoong’s position.

He was sweet like that. 

“A lot,” Jongho told him, eyes widening to the extent of tech blocking their path. “If you could give me a week, I could make a kill switch for them, but we may just have to disable the most damaging ones in our way.”

“How many is that?” San asked, expression pulled down with hooded eyes as Jongho stood and pointed at six different spots that looked random to Hongjoong.

“What sort of security is on them?” Seonghwa asked, leaning forward a bit more, shifting Hongjoong with him.

Before Hongjoong could even huff at the disturbance, Seonghwa’s arm was shifting to wrap around Hongjoong’s back, tucked against his waist and pulling his lithe body firmly against his own to keep him from shifting around as he leaned to see clearer.

Hongjoong swallowed the huff and simply relaxed once more into the hand on his waist rubbing warm circles absently with his thumb.

“Can you get through those six in three days?” Seonghwa demanded, voice hard and tense and dangerous…

So very contrasting to the gentle hand slipping just beneath Hongjoong’s shirt, his thumb brushing comfortingly against his skin, just feeling it as Hongjoong relaxed slightly in his hold.

Seonghwa apparently liked Hongjoong’s soft skin.

(He liked marking it even better, but Hongjoong didn’t think about that because they were in a very serious and professional environment right now.)

“Three days would bring us down to the wire,” Jongho warned, shrugging to show there was nothing he could do. “I need to break through things that are going to take time- it’s the getting through the system part that’s pushing us back. They’re locked up like a motherfucker.” 

“So we’re cutting it pretty close,” Wooyoung muttered, chin resting on his fist, expression tense. “That’s gonna be dangerous for us.”

“What if we just destroyed the six cameras?” Yeosang asked seriously, lifting his head where it had rested on his palm. “I could position myself in the right spot and take them out through a window as needed.”

“Oh my God, that would be so fucking hot,” Wooyoung whispered, almost to himself, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Yeosang’s pen hit him so hard in the head, it left a dark dent from the tip, and Wooyoung immediately began crying at the cruel behavior.

“Seonghwa!” Wooyoung yelled, clutching his forehead. “Tell him to behave in the meeting! We’re professionals!”

“And you’re guilty of 78 accounts of workplace harassment,” Seonghwa said flatly, not even glancing up as his eyes scanned across the map, making Hongjoong’s lips twitch up.

“Says the guy with his hand down Hongjoong’s pants,” Wooyoung muttered, checking to see if it was bleeding.

“It’s up my shirt, not down my pants,” Hongjoong murmured matter of factly, feeling like a cat curled up in the sun. “And unlike you, he can multitask.”

Wooyoung suddenly looked painfully wistful. “Oh my God, if he let me, I would multi-task so hard-“

This time, it was Jongho kicking Wooyoung under the table.

“Focus!” Yunho scolded, though he looked moments from laughing as Wooyoung swallowed a whine with a scathing look from Seonghwa.

“Continue,” Seonghwa said seriously, his hand now rubbing up and down Hongjoong’s waist warmly, making goosebumps break out on his skin in the cool base.

“We could destroy them,” Jongho said in confirmation. “However, it would set off alarms once the first one is taken out. We’d stay on schedule, but after the first camera is disabled, we’d have maybe twenty minutes before people started showing up.”

Seonghwa glanced between San and Mingi. “Is twenty minutes enough to get what we need?”

“We’ll be cutting it hella fucking close,” Mingi assured him, eyes widened slightly at the time limit.

“But, like all miracle workers, we’ll make it happen,” San assured him with a cocky grin. “Worst comes to worst, Yeosang has to take out a dozen guys on the way out.”

“That’s the thing we’re trying to avoid,” Yunho reminded him firmly. “But… he’s right, that’s sort of the worst case scenario,” he said, glancing up at Seonghwa. “Otherwise,  we risk missing our window of opportunity if we have to hack through them.”

Seonghwa sighed, clearly heavily conflicted, and Hongjoong unconsciously laid his hand over Seonghwa’s on his waist, laying their fingers together as he continued to stare at the table.

“It’s better… for us to risk raising some alarms, rather than miss our window,” Seonghwa decided darkly. “We’ve been waiting weeks for this. It has to happen on Thursday.” His hand squeezed Hongjoong’s waist gently. “We’ll proceed with the plan that Yeosang takes out the cameras as needed.”

Everyone nodded, Yeosang straightening slightly as he gazed over the map.

“Yunho, work with Yeosang on figuring out where we can put him for the best vantage point,” Seonghwa ordered. “San, Mingi- do a drive by of the location. Jongho, give up on hacking the cameras and just start ensuring the chip can find everything it needs once they insert it into the computer.”

Seonghwa’s voice clipped off at the end, signifying the end of the meeting.

The others all nodded, standing and beginning to gather their things.

Yeosang immediately walked around the table, expression stoic as he grabbed Wooyoung by the back of the shirt and hauled him up, ignoring Wooyoung’s yelp.

“What- Hey, we have work to do!” Wooyoung complained as Yeosang forcibly dragged him out of the room.

“Yunho, we’ll meet up in an hour,” Yeosang said without looking back.

Hongjoong saw Wooyoung’s face clear in understanding that a knife was most likely not the thing Yeosang was going to stab him with.

He smiled so wide, Hongjoong couldn’t help but snort, watching San turn away with a queasy expression. “Sometimes, I wonder if one can be too kinky.”

 “You think getting off on someone being mean to you is too kinky?” Yunho asked, looking amused. “It’s been too long since you went to a club.”

“Okay, fine. Sometimes, I wonder if one can be too open about how kinky they are,” San corrected, standing and grabbing some files. “The least they could do is stop making to so obvious when they’re going to fuck.”

“I just assume that anytime I can’t find both of them, they’re fucking,” Jongho muttered, looking indifferent as he rolled up the blueprints. “If they disappear at the same time, I don’t risk opening any closed door.”

“It’s always the office on the third floor,” Yunho assured them, expression pinched in discomfort. “Trust me. My workspace is right below it on the second floor.”

Hongjoong chuckled quietly as they all collectively gagged at the thought of what the others were getting up to. And still… Hongjoong had no idea what the two of them were.

He wasn’t even sure if they were exclusive, though he’d never seen evidence they were ever involved with other people.

“We’ll check back in tonight,” San assured Seonghwa, tossing a glance behind them as they all filed out like students after the end of class.

It wasn’t until Mingi waved as the last one out that he realized Seonghwa hadn’t moved yet. He sat still, Hongjoong resting against his shoulder as his arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close.

Hongjoong lifted his eyes, though it only showed him the edge of Seonghwa’s jaw.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly at his prolonged silence. “Worried about the time limit? It’ll work out,” he soothed, his free hand resting on Seonghwa’s knee and squeezing it comfortingly. “San and Mingi have pulled off crazier. And Yeosang won’t let anyone within a mile of that building.”

Seonghwa’s hand stopped rubbing circles, simply resting against Hongjoong’s skin as he continued to stare off. He tugged Hongjoong just that much closer, until he turned his head and buried his nose in Hongjoong’s hair, breathing deeply and holding him tightly.

Hongjoong frowned for a moment, but it melted when Seonghwa pressed a firm kiss to the crown of his head.

“I’m not worried about that,” Seonghwa murmured reassuringly into the strands that probably smelled like strawberry shampoo and the smoke the base always smelled like. “Not right now, at least.” 

Hongjoong hummed, showing he had heard as Seonghwa’s hand slipped further up his shirt, curling further around until he was running ticklishly-soft touched up Hongjoong’s stomach.

“I was just thinking about how unfair it was,” he murmured quietly, “that the two of them can run off to whenever they please around the base… but I have to be responsible and hold off, just because I’m in charge.”

There was a feather-light bite to the very tip of Hongjoong’s ear, taking him by surprise and making a shiver run down his spine.

Seonghwa’s hand was now resting, solid and almost too warm in the center of Hongjoong’s chest, pressing him back against Seonghwa firmly.

With the last remnants of worrying evaporating as Seonghwa trailed slow, warm kisses from Hongjoong’s ear down his neck, Hongjoong laughed quietly at the warmth beginning to gather in his stomach.

“Well, I mean, you were already irresponsible when you were late that morning you stuck around to have couch sex,” Hongjoong reminded him coyly, eyes fluttering closed when Seonghwa lips lingered at the junction of his neck, sucking lightly.

“That was different,” Seonghwa murmured against his skin, nipping at the skin gently, making Hongjoong shiver and laugh. “You were hurting, I was worried… The circumstances were different. And I wasn't at work, I was still at home."

Hongjoong bit back a quiet gasp when Seonghwa took his earlobe between his teeth, teething at it gently, but enough for Hongjoong to twitch in his grip.

“ Stop it, ” Hongjoong laughed, slapping Seonghwa’s knee sharply and tugging away pointedly. “Unless you’re planning on finishing what you’re starting- stop it.” His voice shook slightly with light amusement. “If you’re so eager, then get off early enough that I’m not already asleep,” he teased, reaching up to take Seonghwa’s hand and pulling it away where it had been slowly massaging his chest.   

Seonghwa actually had very little control over when he got home- needing to ensure everything was wrapped up for the night before returning to the apartment.

But it still wasn’t Hongjoong’s fault they hadn’t been having alone time often, and Seonghwa was feeling steamy because of it.

That man and his libido could wait, just like Hongjoong did. 

Seonghwa sighed against his neck. “You’re so mean to me,” he murmured, lips resting obediently without nipping or sucking.

Hongjoong laughed, a warm sound that felt good, finally lifting his head and looking up to see Seonghwa’s expression that was equal parts pouting and dark with desire. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like Wooyoung,” Hongjoong chuckled, reaching up apologetically and cupping Seonghwa’s cheek.

“Dear God, shoot me.”

Hongjoong snorted, kissing Seonghwa’s neck gently because he was too comfortable to lift himself higher. “Listen, you know I’ll never say no to fooling around at the base. You’re the one who seemed convinced that someone will walk in, despite no one but Ateez being allowed on this floor.”

Seonghwa lifted a slow eyebrow. “You’re saying if I asked, you’d do it? Here and now?”

Hongjoong looked around, bewildered. “When I have ever turned down an opportunity to sleep with you?” he demanded, locking eyes with Seonghwa, who looked slightly taken aback.

With something deeper hiding in his eyes that made Hongjoong frown slightly. He lifted a curious eyebrow silently as he straightened slightly.

When Seonghwa’s expression pinched, Hongjoong finally pulled himself away, frowning as he shifted, pulling himself into Seonghwa’s lap until he straddled him, legs hanging off the sides, but putting him at a good enough angle to really look at him.

“What’s going on in there?” he asked quietly as he tapped Seonghwa’s forehead gently.

“I love you.”

Something in Seonghwa’s expression slowly morphed into an open, vulnerable piece of exposed weakness. And Hongjoong couldn’t stop the way his lips parted in surprise at the vehement statement, as if there was some reason Hongjoong may have doubted it.

Because I’m willing to sleep with my husband? Hongjoong wanted to ask. But he stopped the joke, holding it in his chest as he frowned deeper in concern. 

“I love you so much, it scares me sometimes,” Seonghwa whispered hoarsely. “I think I’m going to wake up, and the last three years are just going to be a dream because I can’t help but think of the astronomical odds that aligned so that I met you-“

Warm, calloused hands cupped his cheeks ever so gently.

Gentle enough to make Hongjoong’s heart lurch.

“That I found someone so bright, and crazy enough to not only consider me, but the fact that you were actually insane enough  to stick around- to want me, against all odds...“

His eyes scanned over Hongjoong’s face slowly, as if memorizing all the ridges and falls.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” Seonghwa confessed in a whisper. “That I’m actually… That I actually did something so right in my life, by choosing you.”

He opened his mouth again, but Hongjoong surged forward, kissing him hard as his eyes watered- Seonghwa’s hands immediately falling to his waist and pulling him closer, locking around him tightly.

Seonghwa already knew… all the ways Hongjoong hadn’t believed that someone like Seonghwa existed.

Hongjoong had thought he healed, after Yaechan. 

And he had. For the most part. 

But he hadn’t been in a real relationship since then, and it was hard to see all the little ways he wasn’t completely moved on, until he was in that intimate space with someone else again. 

It wasn’t until he started being serious with Seonghwa that he noticed all the little things that had been… off.

The little ways Hongjoong’s confidence had dipped; the little, innate part of him that wouldn’t bring up certain topics, for fear of starting a fight; the hesitancies he had, despite believing Seonghwa to be harmless to him; the way that Hongjoong would laugh at himself, like the world was playing some sort of joke on him by giving him someone who acted as if their sole desire was to protect him from everything-

Going from flinching under someone’s gaze… to feeling someone’s gaze on his back as a shield, rather than a sniper’s dot…

Hongjoong didn’t even realize that those parts of himself weren’t normal.

Hongjoong knew Seonghwa loved him. Knew that he maybe loved him too much to ever articulate in words

But occasionally, Seonghwa would shed himself down to something just a bit more vulnerable… something like this, where he admitted to all the things he didn’t think he deserved in Hongjoong.

Seonghwa once thought of Hongjoong as something pure that he was sullying every time he got hurt.

(Which had been a whole conversation that ended in tears on both their parts, both of them wanting to stick together so desperately, but being so afraid of what they might hurt in the process.)

In reality… it was like a fence with nails getting hammered in. And Seonghwa was the one pulling the nails out with the utmost care. Yes, the fence was marked up a bit now, and if it happened too much, the fence may eventually weaken.

But… in the end… even after a hundred nails… it was still a perfectly good fence.

Seonghwa, no matter how much he envied Yeosang and Wooyoung, still wouldn’t put himself and Hongjoong in that vulnerable position at the base. Not for lack of trust, but just… because Seonghwa lived a very carefully balanced life between Hongjoong and KQ.

Hongjoong understood that scale, and did his utmost not to add unnecessary weight to his own side.

Because he knew the dark and ugly truths about what Seonghwa did. And he knew the vulnerability that Seonghwa had with Hongjoong. And he knew just how much those two lines couldn’t cross. 

There was no place for vulnerability in KQ. Least of all from the person running it. 

Seonghwa didn’t love Hongjoong like he worked. There was never any darkness or anger or tense stiffness between the two of them. Which is why, while at this base where Seonghwa needed to be those things, they kept a fine line. 

But that didn’t stop Seonghwa from devouring his mouth, teeth dragging on his bottom lip, mouth swallowing every moan from Hongjoong as his tongue curled around Hongjoong’s with such practiced ease-

The hand on the back of Hongjoong’s head, though… the one gripping his hip, like a grounding force… were gentle. Soft and careful. 

No matter how sharp the teeth mouthing at his neck, or how filthy a kiss, or how roughly Hongjoong was fucked… Seonghwa’s hands were always gentle.

In ways that made Hongjoong’s heart want to give out as Hongjoong just held on for dear life as Seonghwa stood, lifting Hongjoong and sitting him on the table so he could deepen the kiss.

The hands that touched him were soft, holding him like a flower petal you didn’t want to crush. 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong gasped as lips attacked his neck, his fingers curled in the front of Seonghwa’s suit. “I love you,” he whispered, head tilted back and eyes shut tight as Seonghwa trailed kisses that made his toes curl. His fingers tangled in the back of Seonghwa’s hair. “I love you so much- You don’t have to deserve it-“

That was what Seonghwa had told him, back then. When Hongjoong would stare at his life and wonder how the fuck he deserved the perfection that Seonghwa was.

“You don’t ‘deserve’ love,” Seonghwa whispered, frowning down at Hongjoong who had frozen beneath him. “It’s not something that has anything to do with your end. You simply exist… and then people give it to you, Hongjoong. You shouldn’t have to do a single thing to get it. You’ll never have to do a single thing to receive love. At least, not mine.”

“I-“

“You could do nothing in all your life, Hongjoong… and I would still love you more than I’ve ever loved another human being.”

Seonghwa slowly… and gently… taught Hongjoong that love wasn’t about an exchange. A transaction.

It wasn’t about… withholding it because you fought over stupid stuff, or not deserving it because you got mad.

And it wasn’t until Hongjoong realized just how much he loved Seonghwa… that he understood what Seonghwa meant about giving it without expecting something in return.

That day… was still one of the best in Hongjoong’s life.

Gentle hands tangled in Hongjoong’s hair as his legs wrapped around Seonghwa’s waist, arms looped around his neck as their lips melded together, Hongjoong’s eyes shut tight.

“I love you so much,” Hongjoong whispered forcefully, like by sheer will he could convince Seonghwa of a fact he already knew.

Seonghwa pulled away, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to the corner of Hongjoong’s mouth and resting there for a moment as they caught their breath.

“I love you,” Seonghwa whispered quietly, voice strong and even. “More than you can ever understand, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong often thanked his lucky stars that he was insane enough to take a chance with Seonghwa, despite everything he knew.

It wasn’t quite as often, but he thanked whatever god was out there that arranged their fates to cross.

Because Hongjoong hadn’t believed that he would ever find anything more in a lover than “not an abuser.” Even after “healing,” Hongjoong still only believed a vaguely not-horrible guy would ever want him.

He’d doubted Seonghwa, because Seonghwa was so kind, so gentle, so… fucking loving. And Hongjoong had spent a good while of his life convinced that someone like that would never love someone like him.

And it wasn’t until Seonghwa that he understood that there was no “someone like him,” as if he were flawed. As if he actually were nothing more than what Yaechan labeled him.

It wasn’t until Seonghwa that he learned how to be Hongjoong again.

He’d taken an insane risk by choosing to be with Seonghwa, and not a day went by that he wasn’t so fucking thankful he took that chance. 

Because Hongjoong found a million more things than just love when he let Seonghwa and his world cross into Hongjoong’s. 

~~~~~~~~

Then

Seonghwa stared at his phone. 

“Hey.” 

He glanced up quickly, a hand sliding his phone off his desk and into his lap. “Yeosang,” he greeted the shooter leaning against the doorframe. 

Yeosang’s arms were crossed, expression neutral. “Don’t mind me,” he said with the barest kick up of his lips. “Keep staring at your boyfriend’s nudes.” 

Seonghwa didn’t even warrant that a full glare, merely narrowing his eyes. “He’s talking about an order he got, for your information,” he replied coolly. “What do you need?”

“How’d your date go?” Yeosang asked calmly. 

“I’d like it if you just got to what you came to talk about.” 

“That’s what I came to talk about,” Yeosang assured him, nodding to Seonghwa pointedly. “I came to ask how your date went.” 

Seonghwa glared for a moment before looking away, pulling his phone back out indifferently. “It went fine,” he said. “However, I’m not in the mood for you to remind me once again that this was a bad idea.” 

“Well, it is a bad idea.” 

“Yeosang,” Seonghwa said sharply, finally giving him a dark glare. 

“It’s a bad idea,” Yeosang said fearlessly, straightening slightly with a somber expression. “Because there’s no way this ends without both of you getting hurt multiple times in multiple ways,” he said, voice almost cruel. “At best. Worst case, one or both of you end up dead. And that’s always been a risk we took, but now you’re bringing someone else into this.” 

“He agreed,” Seonghwa said stiffly, hating the way his voice came out tighter as guilt grabbed at his heart for the thousandth time. 

Because it was selfish to be with Hongjoong. It was selfish of Seonghwa to place his own attraction above his safety. No matter how much Hongjoong agreed… it was still Seonghwa’s fault, whatever happened. 

“You and I both know you never really know what signing up for death means until you’re staring down that gun,” Yeosang said darkly, pushing off the wall and stepping towards Seonghwa’s desk. “You think you do, but you don’t.” 

Seonghwa was about to yell at him to get out, his chest uncomfortably tight and cold. 

“And the part that is astounding me,” Yeosang said, stopping before Seonghwa’s desk, “is that despite all that… you’re still going through with this.” 

Seonghwa jaw tightened. It’s not like I want him to die. It’s not like I’m not terrified for the day that happens- 

His defenses died on his tongue, though, as Yeosang’s expression softened (as much as Yeosang’s expression was ever soft), eyes staring into Seonghwa’s fearlessly. 

“You really love him that much?” Yeosang asked quietly, though his voice was knowing, as if the answer was obvious. 

And it was. 

“You’ve set aside every logical part of yourself,” Yeosang went on, bracing his hands on the desk. “You’ve ignored every warning sign- both internal and external. You’re risking an entire lifetime of work… For one guy?” he demanded quietly. 

It wasn’t accusing, though- the tension in Seonghwa’s chest slowly loosening the more he spoke. 

It was almost impressed. 

“Hyung, you’ve done some insane shit in your life,” Yeosang said. “Loving someone so much you’re risking it all? That’s a new one.” 

“No different from you, isn’t it?” Seonghwa shot back, though no longer defensive. 

“I never said I ever made a smart choice,” Yeosang assured him, lips twitching. “But I did make the right one.” 

Seonghwa rolled his lips slowly as Yeosang stared him down, intent and unapologetic, as always. 

“This wasn’t the smart choice, hyung,” Yeosang assured him firmly. He straightened, taking his hands off of Seonghwa’s desk. “But… after giving you hell the last couple of weeks… I figured I should at least let you know that… maybe it was the right one.” 

Seonghwa’s tense lips quirked. “Is this your way of giving your blessing?” 

“No, my blessing will come in the form of a sniper through his window if he fucks this up.” 

“Stop threatening him,” Seonghwa scolded, rolling his eyes. “We both know this is going to get fucked up.” 

“I hope you have contingency plans for that.” 

“When have I ever had a plan?” Seonghwa asked, making Yeosang’s lips finally pull up into an unimpressed smile. 

“Well, it seems like you’ve already got the wedding planned.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, setting his phone back on the table. “You have three seconds to leave before I tell Wooyoung you were saying nice things about him to San.” 

Yeosang’s smile disappeared into a murderously dark stare. “We both know you’re full of shit, hyung.” 

“You have your things to protect and I have mine, Yeosang,” Seonghwa said unapologetically, smiling kindly. “Three.” 

“You suck,” Yeosang muttered, crossing his arms and leaving the room without a backwards glance. He released a breath, staring at the phone that pinged with a new message from Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa had to wonder how deep in this he already was. 

Because that was basically a teary wish for Seonghwa’s happiness, coming from Yeosng. 

~~~~~~~~

Now

 Seonghwa got home to a fresh bouquet of red salvia and lavender sitting on the kitchen island.

He paused, staring at them for a moment as he closed the door and armed the security system once more, a soft smile tugging at his tired lips. He glanced around the quiet apartment, most of it dark but for the single kitchen light.

He took off his shoes, padding over as he shed his jacket slowly.

There were only about six of them huddled together in a small glass vase, and Seonghwa gently touched the petals that stared up at him- both of them thin and wispy, but the red of the salvia blending artfully with the lightest of purples, like the petals were playing a game of hide and seek.

Flowers had become irreparably merged with Hongjoong. It didn’t matter where he was or what the flower was- seeing any sort of bud automatically made him want to smile, to glance around to see if he was there.

Seonghwa chuckled lightly under his breath as he pulled out his phone, performing a quick search of red salvia.

He’d received lavender from Hongjoong before, years ago in the beginning of their relationship, when Hongjoong would still blush like a tomato as he shoved flowers at Seonghwa and ran away before he could even utter a thank you.

“Devotion,” Hongjoong had told him, refusing to make eye contact with him as Seonghwa held the flowers like they were made of glass. “It means… devotion and… sincerity.”

To this day, Seonghwa saw lavender growing in fields or along roadsides, and it made him pull out his phone, like a reminder to remind Hongjoong he was still sincere. Still devoted wholly.

Red salvia was a new one, and he only knew what it was because he’d taken careful steps since the beginning to remember the names of flowers that Hongjoong threw out, collecting them like little crumbs dropped for him to follow to connect with him.

Seonghwa stared at the phone screen for a moment, thumbs hovering over the searched page.

  Forever mine.

Somehow, even after nearly four years… Hongjoong still managed to take Seonghwa out from the side.

It was different than whispering between kisses, and it was different from stating outright with pride and without remorse.

Flowers… were like notes left behind. Like a game, but more. Little pieces of Hongjoong that he left behind for Seonghwa to pick up and understand. Little things that meant so much to Hongjoong… that he gave to Seonghwa.

It was different than a written note reading: I’m devoted and sincere, be forever mine.

It was just for the two of them, like coded messages that Seonghwa felt almost giddy at the fact he was able to understand, when the rest of the world only saw pretty colors and shapes.

Sometimes, Hongjoong knocked the wind from Seonghwa.

He brushed a hand over the tips of the flowers once more, taking a moment to smell the deep scent of lavender and gentle scent of salvia before smiling quietly as he finally turned off the light in the kitchen, making his way to their bedroom.

He expected to find Hongjoong in bed, either waiting up on his laptop or laying down and resting. It was only 11.

But the bedroom lamp was one, and the bed was empty as Seonghwa stuck his head in, careful in case he had fallen asleep.

Seonghwa stepped in with a slight frown, glancing around the room quickly. Even as he knew nothing could be wrong, he felt the slightest chill of ice trickling down his back as he stepped fully into the room.

“Hongjoong?” he called, glancing towards the bathroom door that was closed, with light coming from the crack at the bottom.

He walked over after a pause, turning the handle and opening the door with enough force to be just on the underside of desperate.

Hongjoong stood just beside the tub, a robe wrapped around his figure and his hand reaching to unplug the drain. He glanced over at Seonghwa, smiling warmly as he straightened, before the smile faded slightly.

It grew back into one of apologetic confusion at Seonghwa’s expression.

“Did you not know where I was?” he asked, leaving the tub to walk over to Seonghwa, reading every little emotion in his eyes and face with ease.

Seonghwa had been nowhere near panicking. But it was that vague sensation that always came with no knowing. Of having something missing from where it was supposed to be. Those few seconds of letting the past whisper “What if…?”

Seonghwa smiled, though, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Only because normal people don’t take baths at 11 o’clock at night,” he said, smiling quietly as he took in Hongjoong’s wet hair that was clinging to the back of his neck.

Hongjoong, however, continued to approach, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and hugging him tightly. “Well, excuse me for getting the urge to self care,” he chuckled quietly, though his grip on Seonghwa was firm enough to be comforting.

Seonghwa wasn’t about to refuse a hug after not seeing him all day.

And… the physical reminders were always nice, as he hugged Hongjoong back, holding him a bit too tight to just be a normal embrace.

It was always… relieving to know he was safe.

“I’m more offended over the fact you didn’t wait for me,” Seonghwa said, chest unlocking and blood smoothing out as Hongjoong pulled away, grinning. “Are we drifting apart?” he asked, expression pulling down. “Does it start with separate baths, and then suddenly one of us is sleeping on the couch-“

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongjoong snorted, pressing a hand to Seonghwa’s mouth as he rolled his eyes, grinning broadly. “If you want me to get back in the bath, I will, but you can’t complain when I’m all wrinkly.”

“Actually,” Seonghwa said, lowering his arms until they rested around Hongjoong’s waist loosely, “I was thinking about going for a walk… maybe stopping for something to eat…” He watched Hongjoong’s smile grow. “Maybe down to the river?”

“You asshole,” Hongjoong huffed, pulling away and fluffing at his wet hair. “I just took a bath, I’m all clean, I was going to put on my comfy pajamas-“ He sighed so loudly, Seonghwa laughed, lifting an expectant eyebrow as Hongjoong finally stopped practically crying at the ceiling.

“Finished?” Seonghwa asked, arms crossed and laughter barely suppressed.

Hongjoong lowered his eyes to him, sighing. “Yes. Give me twenty minutes to get ready.”

The night was getting a bit colder as they walked- Seonghwa, having changed out of his suit, and into a regular pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a black jacket over it.

Without the jacket, you would have clearly seen the outline of the gun beneath his shirt.

Hongjoong didn’t think too much on the fact that seeing that gun made him feel safe now, when it used to make him shift nervously.

Well, it was probably actually the fact of who would be behind the gun, should it be needed.

As soon as their feet hit the sidewalk, one of Hongjoong’s hands threaded through Seonghwa’s, holding it tightly as they walked with shoulders pressed together.

“How’s the plan for that one infiltration going?” Hongjoong asked as they walked down the empty street, only the occasional car passing by. “With the cameras?”

Seonghwa was quiet for a moment before nodding. “It’s going well, for the plan we chose. Everyone is just looking over everything, now.  Familiarizing themselves… Yeosang is checking and double checking the two positions he’ll need to be in to get all the cameras… So far, no bumps in the road.”

“I’m glad,” Hongjoong said, smiling quietly. “I’ll be glad when it’s over- jobs like these always give you wrinkles.”

Seonghwa hadn’t realized he was frowning until Hongjoong delicate finger pressed between his brows, smoothing out the wrinkle there.

They both laughed quietly, and Seonghwa caught the hand before it could escape, kissing it gently before letting it go. “My only concern is the time limit,” Seonghwa confessed. “Twenty minutes isn’t a lot to get in, do the job, and get far enough away. There’s going to be a firefight, I just know it.”

Hongjoong hummed, leaning his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder gently, expression somber. “It’ll work out,” he murmured, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “Maybe not perfectly, but… it’ll work out.”

Seonghwa knew that a simple statement was not enough to stop a bullet.

But… he did realize that he’d invited Hongjoong out on the first actual “date” in weeks, and he was still thinking about work. He smiled quietly to himself. He knew that Hongjoong would sit and listen to his concerns, his problems, his worries… he’d been doing it for years.

But Seonghwa was currently walking down the street calmly with the love of his life, and he was determined to savor it. He tossed the last piece of work away as they walked, his hand squeezing Hongjoong’s.

“I enjoyed your flowers,” Seonghwa said casually as they walked.

He could practically feel the way Hongjoong brightened. “Did you?”

Seonghwa nodded. “I almost cried.”

“Ha! I knew you would, you big baby,” he said, pressing his face into Seonghwa’s arm teasingly. “You’re so into being together forever, you started calling me your husband after six months of dating.”

Seonghwa scoffed, as if the statement wasn’t absolutely true. “And you enjoy being called my husband so much, you actively correct the others when they don’t actually call you that.”

Hongjoong gasped in offense and struck Seonghwa in the side with a dainty fist. “Listen, if I’m going to live a dangerous life with the most dangerous man in Seoul, I had better be an actual committed person. I’m just risking my neck to just be a ‘boyfriend,’ got it?”

Seonghwa laughed, his chest warming as he released Hongjoong’s hand and put an arm around his shoulder, tugging him close. “It’s not my fault,” he murmured against his ear, “that within days of knowing you, I wanted you in my life forever.”

Now, Seonghwa sat and watched the magic happen.

He felt Hongjoong stiffen, then shove at his side until they were parted, his face flaming red as he glared at Seonghwa threateningly, lips moving out a stuttered excuse or beratement for saying something so cheesy-

Seonghwa kissed him.

Because sometimes, he looked at Hongjoong, and he just loved him so fucking much… he didn’t know what to do. Sometimes, there was just this urge to hold and caress and protect…

Actually, most of the time there was an urge to hold and protect.

Seonghwa couldn’t help but laugh when a thin hand slid between their lips stubbornly. He opened his eyes to Hongjoong still glaring at him, their lips both resting against his fingers.

“Don’t think you can kiss me to escape a scolding,” he said, trying to look angry, but Seonghwa saw the way his lips twitched. “I told you to stop saying such cheesy stuff-“

“You gave me flowers that basically said you’d be mine forever.”

“Yeah! That’s a roundabout way of saying it! You just say it, and it’s cheesy and weird-“

“So flowers aren’t cheesy?”

“No, they’re elegant.”

Seonghwa lowered the hand between them, resting his forehead against Hongjoong’s gently, smiling as his heart swelled in his chest. “So which flowers do I have to give you to make sure you know that you’re the best thing that ever happened in my life?”

He watched Hongjoong’s face grow a darker shade of red, eyes flickering down to stare at Seonghwa’s chin.

“…Lilies of the valley,” he mumbled, head trying to drop low but having nowhere to go.

Seonghwa couldn’t help the smile spreading across his lips, suppressing a laugh at Hongjoong actually having an answer for him. “What was that?” he asked, hand coming up to lift Hongjoong’s chin gently, until his eyes finally snapped back up to Seonghwa.

“I said , lilies of the valley,” he said, in a normal tone, though his eyes continued to flicker around, voice dropping once more to a mumble. “They mean like… happiness and purity, but they carry a strong connotation of like… ‘you’ve made my life complete…’”

The words made something warm curl in Seonghwa’s chest. “That sounds perfect,” he murmured quietly. “Should I call you that? My lily?”

The name itself was enough to make even Seonghwa cringe, but Hongjoong finally looked him in the eyes firmly.

“Actually, they’re not part of the lily family, it’s sort of a misnomer,” Hongjoong said factually. “They’re actually part of the asparagus family.”  

Seonghwa blinked, staring at Hongjoong who had lost all embarrassment in the face of education about the proper genus of flowers.

He felt like he could melt into a puddle.

“I fucking love you,” Seonghwa whispered, a laugh caught in there somewhere, but the words were torn straight from his chest, almost painful for how true they rang.

Hongjoong smiled, laughing at the confession as he poked Seonghwa’s chest firmly. “I’m just making sure that my husband doesn’t go around misnaming plants. If anything, you should be calling me your asparagus.”

“Does asparagus actually have a meaning?” Seonghwa asked skeptically.

“Fascination.”

“Of course. I always look at asparagus and can barely look away.”

Hongjoong struck him in the chest lightly, rolling his eyes. “I’m not sacrificing my time to eat to educate you on the intricacies that is the language of flowers.” He walked off, shaking his head, making Seonghwa resist the urge to just tackle him and press him to a wall as he grinned.

Seonghwa ran about four steps to catch up with him, embracing him from behind as he rested his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“My asparagus,” he chuckled, almost uncontrollably.

“Stop- I told you, it’s not the same thing!”

“My asparagus genus,” Seonghwa corrected, just as warmly.

“Now you’re just throwing words out.”

“My lily of the valley- No, too many words.”

“You can’t be bothered to call me the perfect thing because it’s too long?” Hongjoong demanded, twisting to see him.

“I’m a busy man, Hongjoong.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as his lips twitched. “If your team could see you now.”

“They always see him touching you.”

“Yes, but they don’t see you cooing cute nicknames in my ear.”

Seonghwa… loved Hongjoong. And his team was painfully aware of just how much. They had been aware of how much before Seonghwa ever was, because they saw the ways Seonghwa changed.

The way his face would soften automatically when he glanced at Hongjoong. The subtle ways his voice changed, his posture loosened… all things Seonghwa hadn’t seen happening, but that they had noticed in a heartbeat.

Whipped, as San liked to say.

Seonghwa kissed his neck gently. “Would you like me to, around them?”

Hongjoong sighed, elbowed Seonghwa with no strength, and then leaned back into his chest as they walked.

Seonghwa waited.

“So, I’m not hearing a ‘no’…”

“I’ll shoot you with your own gun.”

Seonghwa kissed him again, no matter how awkward the angle.

He couldn’t believe how boring his life was before Hongjoong. How he’d ever survived such a droll existence that consisted of nothing but work and returning to an empty, colorless apartment with no flowers covering every surface, no Hongjoong waiting up for him, no achingly fond smile appearing the moment his face appeared in the door…

Somehow, nearly four years was enough to change your previous decades of existence.

Seonghwa finally understood what it meant to have a spark.

It wasn’t… a spark like one that caught things on fire.

It was a spark, like a fuse running along to a bomb that exploded your entire world into color the moment they opened their mouths, the moment they smiled, the moment they appeared in your vision…

Hongjoong had a spark because Seonghwa had been seeing a world in black and white, and then suddenly a flash of red had drawn his attention.

They made their way to a food stand that was always open until midnight, grabbing whatever food they felt like and sitting down on those little plastic chairs.

“Feels an awful lot like a first date, doesn’t it?” Hongjoong laughed as he poked at his fishcake. “After you took me that awful restaurant-“

“I was nervous!” Seonghwa defended, stealing a fishcake before Hongjoong could get it. “I’d never seriously dated anyone before. Usually, I just showed them a fancy place and then never saw them again. I never considered the fact I’d actually want to talk to you.”

Hongjoong grinned, bright and warm and he tucked a slightly-damp piece of long hair behind his ear. “It was so boring-“

“Yeah, I know,” Seonghwa laughed, lifting his hands helplessly. “What do you want from me? I fixed it, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Hongjoong conceded, taking a sip of cola, his smile warming to something softer. “You did,” he repeated softer, looking down at his jeon. “I asked you to just explain what was going on… and you did.” His smile grew wider. “That was the night I knew I could trust you.”

Seonghwa was silent because if he spoke, his voice would break.

“Do you remember… when we talked about regrets?” Hongjoong asked quietly, avoiding Seonghwa’s gaze by focusing on the little side dishes they had sitting around. His expression pinched slightly in thoughtfulness. “Do you remember what I said?”

Honestly, they’d said a lot of things.

This one, though, Seonghwa remembered.

Because it was the true first time he’d ever realized… that just because something was hurt… didn’t mean it was broken.

“You said that we were going to have regrets,” Seonghwa replied softly, staring at Hongjoong’s hands that rolled his chopsticks around. “But that… if we were lucky, the good times would outweigh the regret.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, looking amused that Seonghwa had actually remembered. “Yeah…” He smiled gently. “Well, it looks like I was wrong,” he whispered, glancing up at Seonghwa with eyes that shone. “Because I don’t have any regrets, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa stilled, staring at him blankly for a moment, and then in confusion.

“Hongjoong… you know it hasn’t been perfect-“

“I didn’t ask for perfect,” Hongjoong laughed weakly, shaking his head as he set down his chopsticks. “The only thing I wanted when I signed up for this was you. And I got that. I kept that.”

“You got a lot more than that,” Seonghwa reminded him, as if Hongjoong needed any reminders.

It wasn’t as if Seonghwa wasn’t content. It wasn’t that he wanted Hongjoong to have regrets, but… how could you look at everything they’d been through and not feel the urge to change something?

“I did get more,” Hongjoong agreed readily. “I got a family to go with it. Yeosang and San and Wooyoung and-“

“You’ve also been in more danger than ever,” Seonghwa replied quietly, heart wrenching at the thought. “You’ve been hurt more times than ever-“

“And I wouldn’t change any of it,” Hongjoong whispered intently, shaking his head, expression pinching. “Are there things I wish hadn’t happened? Yeah. But would I change them? No.”

Why?

“Because I survived it all,” Hongjoong said quietly, expression clearing into something lighter. “None of it killed me. So, I can’t say that I regret it, because it all built up to here. If I changed something, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up here. And I’m really, really fucking happy with where I ended up, Seonghwa.”

His eyes glistened as he blinked a bit harder than usual, smiling at Seonghwa through the unshed tears.

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened. “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t change something. ”

Hongjoong shrugged. “What would you change?” he asked quietly.

Seonghwa already knew, from the moment he met Hongjoong, what he would change. “Every single time you got hurt.”

Hongjoong laughed, head falling back as he shook it, staring at Seonghwa intently. “That’s not possible, Seonghwa.”

“Well, it’s not about what’s possible.”

“You can’t regret something that could never have been avoided,” Hongjoong pressed. “In the same way it’s impossible for you to not get hurt. Name one other thing you’d change, other than stopping me from getting hurt,” he urged expectantly, leaning back.

Seonghwa thought for a moment, staring at their fishcakes.

Well…

“Nothing,” Seonghwa said quietly, eyes a million miles away.

Because every other moment of knowing Hongjoong was precious.

“So, if the only thing you’d regret would be something that was impossible to avoid, and therefore you can’t really regret it…” Hongjoong stared at him, waving a hand slowly, asking for a response.

His eyes were sparkling, despite their dampness.

Hongjoong walking around with a bruise on his eye was what gave Seonghwa the courage to first admit what he really, truly felt, beneath all the fear.

Hongjoong staring down the barrel of a gun had been the first time he’d sought Seonghwa out for comfort.

Every scare… and every bruise… and every fight… had been a catalyst for them. Something that drove them closer, a desire to protect and a desire to be safe.

Seonghwa had learned that “safe” didn’t necessarily mean “unharmed.”

Even if Yaechan would have never laid a hand on Hongjoong… he would’ve never been safe with him.  

Their hurt… had become their story. Their lineage and legacy.

Just two idiots who were so dumb and in love that they couldn’t choose a reasonable answer.

Seonghwa didn’t have much use for reasonable.

Seonghwa swallowed thickly, staring at Hongjoong and once again wondering how he was real. “Then I don’t regret anything, either.”

Hongjoong’s lips shook slightly the wider he smiled. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I don’t regret it either.”

That had been the one thing Seonghwa continued to fear.

Regret.

Fear of a time when they moved far enough along, and when they looked back at it all… he’d look over and see Hongjoong’s face fallen and twisted. That at the end of it all, they’d look back… and think it wasn’t worth it.

Hongjoong was smiling, though. Looking back… he was smiling.

Seonghwa felt something like a sharp stone dislodge from his chest, jarring and painful, but bringing an infinite amount of relief with it.

Because he knew what he needed to do with that little box in his drawer.

He’d been putting it off for far too long.

Chapter Text

Then

Hongjoong received a text at 5PM on Wednesday.

Seonghwa: Are you free for the next few hours?

Hongjoong blinked at it, frowning for a moment with amusement.

Hongjoong: Didn’t we already decide that we were meeting for dinner tonight?

Seonghwa: Yes. But I thought that it would be more romantic to make it seem impromptu.

Hongjoong stifled a laugh behind his hand.

Hongjoong: Are you one to be romantic?

Seonghwa: Don’t know. Never really cared enough to bother, before

Hongjoong: Well, consider me romanticized. What time?

Seonghwa: I’m outside your building now.  

Hongjoong stared at the text for a moment, stunned.

He pressed the little phone beside Seonghwa’s name, putting the phone to his ear as his stomach completely ate itself alive.

Seonghwa picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“That was slightly less romantic,” Hongjoong said, not sure if he was serious or on the verge of laughing.

“I was going to wait until seven,” Seonghwa’s smooth voice replied, apologetic. “But I was in the area because of other things.”

“… Illegal things?” Hongjoong asked slowly.

There was a quiet, demure laugh on the other end. “Are you going to ask me that every time I tell you I was doing things?”

Hongjoong shrugged, leaning back on the couch. “Well… from what you’ve said, those seem to be the only things you do…”

A pause where Hongjoong held his breath. “Not true,” Seonghwa answered after a moment. “I buy coffee.”

“Were you buying coffee?”

“Oh, no, I was doing very illegal things,” Seonghwa assured him. There was a sharp pause, almost like he’d gotten cut off. “Is that… going to ruin the evening, if I’ve just come from there?”

The question took Hongjoong by surprise, making him blink for a moment. “I mean… as far as I’m concerned, doing illegal things is the same, regardless of when you’ve done them. Meeting with you last week after you’d done illegal things the day before doesn’t seem much worse than meeting only hours after you’ve done the illegal thing.”

Another long pause.

Hongjoong waited.

“You’re a very, very strange person, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong chuckled quietly, blood a little warm in his face. “If you’d rather meet later, I’m not opposed,” he assured him. “But if you’re hesitating on my behalf… I’m a bit farther in than that, right now.”

Another quiet chuckle, though this one seemed heavier. “I’ve been trying to explain to you, Hongjoong… You haven’t seen anything. There are skeletons in my closet that you don’t want to see.”

Hongjoong felt the slightest tinge of indignance in his chest. “You think anyone wants to see anyone’s skeletons?” he demanded gently. “Or show them off, for that matter? The things I told you are basically just the closet that the skeletons live in, alright?”

“Hongjoong-“

“We’ve both got some issues,” he pressed, shrugging helplessly. “Yours make you the largest gang leader in Seoul, and mine make me insane enough not to care, as long as you don’t lay a hand on me.”

“Hongjoong, that’s-“

“Are you still wanting a date?” Hongjoong broke in expectantly, sitting up slowly. “Because we’ve already had this conversation, Seonghwa. We made our choices. Unless you’re going to tell me you’re backing out, it’s pointless to have this conversation every time we meet.”  

Hongjoong was beginning to be shocked at his own boldness.

But… maybe that’s what you felt when you weren’t afraid of someone lashing out at you for saying the wrong thing.

And that was a freedom that hit Hongjoong in the chest harder than a boulder.

Seonghwa cleared his throat gently. “How long do you need to get ready?”

A tension loosened in Hongjoong’s chest. “Where are we going?”

Another silence. “Well, I don’t feel much like being out and about after today,” he said quietly. “If you’re comfortable, I thought we could do dinner at my apartment.”

Hongjoong’s heart skipped.

“Unless, you’d rather do it at yours,” Seonghwa offered firmly. “Or, if you’re not comfortable without being in a public space, we can still go-“

“Give me ten minutes to change,” Hongjoong broke in, standing. “Your place is fine.”

“You’re… sure?” Seonghwa asked. “I only suggested it because I was out all day. If you’re not comfortable-“

“I’ll be comfortable,” Hongjoong assured him, walking to his bedroom. “I’ll even bring my fuzzy socks.”

A pause.

And then a snort, echoing around the phone pressed to his ear. The sound made Hongjoong grin as a sharp, composing breath was taken on the other end.

“You can show up in pajamas for all I care, I’ll be dressed casually,” he said, voice softening around the edges. “I’m parked right out front, whenever you’re ready.”

Hongjoong nodded. “Sure thing.”

20 minutes, a black t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans later, Hongjoong stood inside the door of a penthouse apartment.

“Woah,” he murmured, taking off his shoes carefully as he stared around the open space.

The entire main area had no walls, leading directly from the dining area to the kitchen to the living space. It was furnished well, but sparsely, with tasteful decorations, but… very little personal touches, at first glance.

Everything was tile and marble, the ceilings high, and an entire wall of the living area having floor to ceiling windows showing off the darkened skyline.

It was beautiful. But something about it… made Hongjoong feel almost… sad.

“Are you hungry?” Seonghwa asked, shedding his long overcoat and hanging it beside the door.

Hongjoong glanced at his nicely pressed white shirt and dark pants. Without the coat, the gun at his side stood out starkly, but Hongjoong merely glanced over it, looking up at his face that was staring at him curiously… but with a very light stiffness in his eyes, as if he were thinking about something else.

“I haven’t eaten much all day,” Hongjoong confessed, smiling quietly.

Seonghwa nodded, expression softened as he walked away from the kitchen. “I’m going to change real quick. Feel free to… look around, I guess?”  He threw a half-smirk over his shoulder as he disappeared through a door.

Hongjoong wasn’t one to snoop, so he simply strolled through the open area, observing with his hands behind his back like one might at a museum. The kitchen was spotless.

Almost looking untouched.

The living area was neat, with decorative pillows and everything, and ornate glass objects and figures adorning the tables and shelves, as well as artful piles of books to soften the decoration.

It looked like none of them had ever been opened.

Hongjoong glanced around, trying to find an empty cup, a bowl, a pile of mail… something.

“Anything interesting?” Seonghwa’s voice asked, making Hongjoong glance away from the glass bird sitting on the coffee table. He was smiling quietly as he exited the room in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Hongjoong froze for a moment, taken aback after seeing him in nothing but freshly pressed suits and dark overcoats. He suddenly looked a million times more human… and Hongjoong’s heart skipped a beat as he cleared his throat gently.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked, touching the bird with a gentle fingertip.

“Years, now,” Seonghwa chuckled quietly. “I lived here before I even took over KQ.”

Right. The gang. Hm. Hongjoong let it pass by, like he might be talking about a regular company. He couldn’t help the laughter caught in his throat. “Where’s… all your stuff?” he asked, glancing around. “Did you decorate this place?”

Seonghwa stood a few feet away, observing him. “No, it came furnished.”

Hongjoong’s lips twitched. “If I look in the fridge, will I find any food?”

He gestured to the fridge in invitation. “I bought ingredients for tonight, in case you didn’t want takeout.”

“If I looked any other day,” he clarified, stepping forward. “Would I find any food?”

His smile grew the longer Seonghwa remained silent, seeming to mull it over, though it was obvious what the answer was. “I work a lot,” he said, in lieu of a real answer. “Lately, I just sleep at the base, since it’s easier.”

Hongjoong sighed, shaking his head as he walked past Seonghwa. “So, am I going to have to do good boyfriend things like reminding you to eat and actually drink water?”

Seonghwa groaned gently, trailing after Hongjoong towards the kitchen. “No, I do not need another mother, I have enough to go around.”

Hongjoong turned at that, a questioning brow lifting curiously.

Seonghwa sighed, though his lips were twitching as he leaned against the kitchen island. “I have a… personal team,” Seonghwa said carefully. “Sort of an elite sector, as compared to the regular thugs who walk around KQ. We’re… friends,” he decided with a slow nod. “Family, if you wanted to get mushy about it-“

Hongjoong smirked. “You look like someone who wants to be mushy about it.”

Seonghwa gave him an unimpressed look. “Anyway, I already have Yunho on me about my sleeping habits, San scolding me for eating nothing but takeout, and Wooyoung telling me that if I don’t get a life outside of work, I’ll die at 30.”

Hongjoong didn’t know these people. But there was something infinitely amusing at the prospect of the leader of the most revered gang in Seoul being mothered by other elite gang members of the most dangerous gang in Seoul.

Almost as amusing as said leader dating a florist.

Because of his smile.

“You are probably the most peculiar person I have ever met,” Hongjoong said, unable to keep the smile off his lips, arms crossing loosely over his chest.

Seonghwa glanced up at him, expression innocent as an eyebrow lifted. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you.” His lips ticked upwards.

Hongjoong hummed. “When you cross two idiots… do they cancel out or just make a bigger idiot?” he posed.

“Apparently, they start dating.”

Hongjoong grinned, not entirely sure why the statement made his heart swell.

Dinner was a simple fried rice and chicken. Cooking passed with the two of them making small talk about their days.

Hongjoong described a complicated order that he’d been trying to sort out, and Seonghwa talked about annoying people he’d had to work with all day.

Using very purposefully elusive language.

Hongjoong stared at the glass of wine he’d accepted, swirling it slowly, expression thoughtful, though his chest was… oddly light.

“Did you kill anyone today?” he asked quietly.

Seonghwa froze where he was stirring the rice, his shoulders tensed to the point of snapping. Hongjoong almost regretted the question.

He didn’t turn around. “What… depends on my answer?” he asked, voice soft and terse.

Hongjoong’s shoulders twitched in a shrug as he stared at the back of his head. “Nothing. Whether it’s yes or no… it doesn’t change anything. I was just wondering.”

Another pause before Seonghwa started stirring slowly. “No,” he said shortly. “I didn’t kill anyone today. But I did interrogate several people… Without killing them, but not without hurting them.”

Hongjoong processed that for a minute. It was almost alarming how normal Seonghwa seemed. How Hongjoong couldn’t see any sort of evidence of a fight or even a single hair out of place. No break in Seonghwa’s calm demeanor.

And nothing behind his gentle smile that would allude to having beaten several people.

“Okay,” Hongjoong said simply, taking a sip of wine. “Did it all… work out in the end?”

“We got what we needed,” Seonghwa said, still not having looked back at Hongjoong. “It got complicated near the end when several others showed up to free them, and it turned into a bit of a brawl.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. “ Seriously? Holy shit- Are you okay?” he demanded, holding his wine glass as his chest tightened.  

“Everyone walked away fine,” Seonghwa assured him, still not looking back. “Minimal bruises. San needs his wrist wrapped, and I got stabbed, but everything-“

“You were stabbed ?”

Hongjoong was sure he sounded like an annoying bird, but the shout left his mouth unbidden as Seonghwa turned to him sharply, eyebrows raised.

Hongjoong was already practically slamming his wineglass down, eyes wide as something cold filled his chest. “Are you shitting me right now?” he asked, glancing over Seonghwa’s calm expression with horrified eyes.

He swore, if this was some sort of joke-

But Seonghwa just frowned slightly in gentle confusion as he reached back, lifting the edge of his shirt to reveal one side of his back.

On the curve where his back met his side was a white square of a thick bandage, about the size of Hongjoong’s palm.

His eyes widened, a hand slowly coming up to cover his mouth-

Seonghwa dropped the shirt. “It’s not deep,” he said, as if that made it better. “The bandage makes it look big, but the knife was small. It only went an inch in.”

“You- You got stabbed,” Hongjoong said, voice slightly weaker as he lowered his hand, “and you still… invited me on a date?” he demanded, voice getting stronger.

Seonghwa frowned at him. “It’s just a stab. Bullet wounds are the ones that take you out for a while.”

Hongjoong continued to stare, thinking Seonghwa must have lost his mind- “ Just a stab-”

But this was normal for him. An everyday occurrence, that was just another part of his job, not even worth bothering with.

Hongjoong didn’t know if he should feel touched that Seonghwa had kept their date planned, even after being stabbed.

But he forced his heart rate to calm down as he swallowed the taste of horror in his throat. Seonghwa wasn’t freaking out. He wasn’t acting as if it hurt him, he wasn’t doing anything to imply that something was wrong…

Hongjoong took a slow breath, nodding stiffly. “You’re okay?”

“Completely,” Seonghwa assured him, something in his eyes softening. “It doesn’t even hurt, and it’s not big enough to even cause an issue.”

He’d also talked about bullet wounds casually. As if they were nothing more than a bad bee sting that smarted more than you’d planned.

Seonghwa served the rice in bowls, and they sat on the couch, holding their steaming food.

“So… that’s something I should get used to… right?” Hongjoong questioned after complimenting the food, which honestly tasted really fucking good. “You just… being stabbed and getting shot at?”

Hongjoong knew he was probably ruining the date or bringing down the mood or whatever, but… like he’d said… he wanted to know what to expect. That’s all he wanted.

Seonghwa lowered his spoon slowly. “Hongjoong… I can’t exactly ask you to ‘get used to’ someone being shot or stabbed. It’s not exactly normal for someone-“

“But it’s something that happens often, isn’t it?” Hongjoong asked, glancing up.

Seonghwa stared at him, something almost saddened in his heavy gaze, but part of him… just looked apologetic. As if he was sorry that Hongjoong would have to get used to something like that.

“It’s normal for you, isn’t it?”

Seonghwa’s lips pressed together. “If everything goes right, it doesn’t happen. But… it’s not something that’s exactly rare. Minor injuries like this are commonplace. More serious ones, more fatal ones… those don’t happen as often, but… it’s impossible to defend against them completely.”

Honestly, Hongjoong felt a bit like the romantic interest in those silly superhero movies. The ones with the helpless protagonists with the big strong heroes, and they have to come to terms with the fact that the person they’ve fallen for is going to go out into danger and potentially die.

And that’s something they’re going to keep doing. Day after day.

Hongjoong hummed quietly, nodding. “Okay,” he replied quietly, tucking that piece of information away carefully. “That’s good to know.”

“Hongjoong-“

“Don’t bring up the fact that what we’re doing is stupid again,” Hongjoong requested, staring at his rice. “Seonghwa- if I didn’t want these things, I’d back out, I already told you that. I’m not some helplessly hung up idiot- I’m not going to stick around just because I think your hair is pretty-“

He sounded a bit harsher than he wanted. But he was trying to get Seonghwa to understand.

“ Yeah ,” he stressed, finally glancing up at Seonghwa’s quietly pained face. “I know the smartest option would be to remove myself from this situation. I know that I’m risking my life, and I know that you’re endangering yours. I know all this, Seonghwa, I don’t need you to remind me every time you seem to remember that what we’re doing is insane -“

Seonghwa winced gently, expression tightening.

Hongjoong swallowed, staring at him quietly. “I told you before, Seonghwa. My standards for men are exactly as high as they need to be for me to be safe from them .”

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, though it was guilt that appeared in his eyes, not anger.

“I’m not going into this blind. I’m not going in, thinking you’re someone you’re not,” he pressed. “You were open with me. You were honest about what you do and what you expected and what I needed to expect.” He sighed, a quiet laugh on his lips. “I’m not kidding when I tell you that you’re the nicest fucking guy I’ve met in years. Probably ever.”

“I-“

“And it’s not because you’re a good tipper,” Hongjoong went on, sitting his bowl down. “It’s not because your smile is pretty, or the tone that you talk to me in.” He swallowed, jaw tightening like he was bracing himself. “It’s because I told you the things that happened to me, and I told you the things I wanted. Things I needed.”

Hongjoong wet his lips as Seonghwa stared, still as a statue.

“And you agreed to them,” Hongjoong said, voice a little thicker. “You talked to me. You made sure I was comfortable.” He rolled his lips. “I’m not looking for a miracle, Seonghwa. I’m not looking for some perfect- or apparently even normal- relationship.”

Hongjoong had never been confused on this. 

 “I just want someone who will respect me enough to give me the things I need to feel safe. And you’ve done that without question.”

He saw Seonghwa swallow, something building in his eyes as his jaw slowly untensed.

“So, I know it’s crazy that I’d agree to all this,” Hongjoong assured him, voice dropping softer. “I know that. But I’ve seen worse things than you. As far as I’m concerned, it’s stupid for me to dump someone over their job. You aren’t a threat to me, and so I don’t really care, outside of that.” He crossed his arms firmly. “And that’s my final say on all this.”  

Seonghwa was still staring, intent but gentle, without any sort of anger in his gaze. He glanced down at Hongjoong’s tightly crossed arms before flickering back up to his face, swallowing.

He looked like he was trying to say a dozen things with just his eyes.

Hongjoong met his gaze, flickering around his face slowly. “You know, it kind of looks like you’re about to try and kiss me,” he told Seonghwa, glancing up at warm eyes that seemed to glow.

Seonghwa was really pretty. But the clothes and home around them made him look softer. More human. And maybe that was why Hongjoong didn’t care.

Because the Seonghwa before him right now was human. Not a gang leader, not a killer…. Just a human.

It didn’t matter if he sometimes looked hard and unapproachable and intimidating… because this was what was underneath it all.

This was also what Hongjoong getting, aside from the parts of Seonghwa that Seonghwa seemed sure were deal breakers.  

“Would you let me?” Seonghwa asked quietly, making a shiver run down Hongjoong’s spine. “If I asked?”

It wasn’t exactly a very large leap in a relationship. They’d been on dates (did those meetings in the shops probably count?), and all they’d done was whatever the hell Hongjoong had done last time with his “bad aim”.

But Hongjoong… didn’t feel threatened by Seonghwa.

Even with a gun in his hand, even with a weapon constantly on his person… even knowing that he was a million times more dangerous than anyone else Hongjoong had ever met…

Hongjoong was not afraid of Seonghwa. And now… knowing what he wanted, what he was capable of, what he intended… Now he knew what to expect.

“Yeah…” Hongjoong tried to speak clearly, but it came out more like a whisper.

He half-expected it to be like cutting the leash on a dog- for something to break free and surge forward.

Seonghwa did shift forward quickly, until his hands framed Hongjoong’s face- tucked against his cheeks softly- and his lips just barely brushed Hongjoong’s-

But then he stopped.

Hongjoong was frozen, staring at Seonghwa’s eyes that were half-lidded, looking back at him.

The hands on his face were gentle, like you might cup water you had pulled from a stream.

“Just tell me if you want to stop,” Seonghwa murmured, lips brushing Hongjoong’s before sealing them together.  

Hongjoong was not a virgin. Not even close.

He’d kissed and been kissed by a lot of people. At a lot of different points in his life.

The moan that he let out as Seonghwa pressed against him was one that he’d have been embarrassed by for his first kiss back when he was 17, much less at almost 29.

Instinctively, he raised his hands to push Seonghwa back, face heating with a need to explain himself.

But then he felt Seonghwa’s lips curl in a smile as he moved his lips against Hongjoong’s warmly before pulling back just a breath.

“You sound beautiful,” he whispered into the molecules between them before resealing the kiss.

Hongjoong froze for a moment in utter shock before pressing forward, no longer letting Seonghwa be the only one contributing, his hand finding a home against Seonghwa’s chest that was rising and falling a bit faster than normal.

Hongjoong started dating Yaechan when they were in college. And while they were in school, Yaechan always seemed to have some new compliment for Hongjoong about the strangest things. From his choice of breakfast cereal to his shoes.

Once they graduated, the compliments just stopped. Hongjoong hadn’t even noticed that all the sweet talk had suddenly disappeared. He didn’t notice that laughing compliments had turned to more firm questions of why he was choosing to wear something, or why he always ate the same thing, telling him that his snack was so unhealthy-

Until near the end, Yaechan never actually insulted Hongjoong right out.

But almost subconsciously, Hongjoong had realized that there were things about him- a lot of things about him- that Yaechan now just found annoying.

Hongjoong got compliments often, especially when he went out and put in some effort at the clubs and bars he’d go to when he had time. But it was different.

Seonghwa was different from a stranger telling him they liked his pants but would like them even better on the floor.

And most certainly it was the first time something so… out of the ordinary would be called beautiful. It was different from his face or his body or his clothes or…

Seonghwa liked his smile.

Liked his voice…

And Hongjoong was strong enough to keep his eyes from watering with emotion, but he knew that when he returned home, he would very much likely have a few tears to shed.

Seonghwa’s hands were gentle against his cheek, brushing the pads of his thumbs over the swell of his cheekbones gingerly, as if he was afraid pressing too hard might hurt. He shifted forward, and Hongjoong tilted his head back as Seonghwa’s tongue licked tentatively at his mouth-

Warmth spread rapidly through Hongjoong’s bloodstreams as Seonghwa’s arm fell from his face and wrapped around his waist gently, tugging him closer until they pressed chest to chest.

Hongjoong realized three things very quickly: Seonghwa’s entire body was made of thin lines of lean muscle, Seonghwa was holding Hongjoong as if he didn’t want to let go, and Hongjoong suddenly wished that both arms were around him.

And that made him choke slightly against Seonghwa’s lips, the sound mingling with a moan as Seonghwa’s arm tightened around him, shifting Hongjoong’s hips forward until their legs pressed together.

Because one thing Yaechan had loved to do… was loom. Standing close to Hongjoong, putting an arm around him, keeping a hand on him to keep him close… All motions that were harmless, except for the fact that Hongjoong had been terrified by them, coming from Yaechan.

He choked, because he imagined Seonghwa suddenly surrounding him, encasing him like you saw in those cheesy chick flicks.

And once again… Seonghwa did not feel like Yaechan.

There was nothing threatening, controlling, or uncomfortable about the arms around him that felt strong enough to do whatever they wanted. They didn’t feel like a cage chaining him in. They felt like walls. Shields.

Something meant to hold and protect… not restrain and control.

Hongjoong hadn’t even realized he had basically stopped kissing Seonghwa, too caught up in his head until Seonghwa slowed, hesitating for a moment before pulling away completely.

Just not a lip’s distance, but far enough back to see Hongjoong’s entire face. His hands didn’t let go of Hongjoong completely, but they loosened significantly until they just barely rested against him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, breathing a little uneven… lips a dark pink and cheeks flushed.

Hongjoong blinked, a bit dazed from the kiss, the man in front of him, and the onslaught of memories hitting him from behind. “What?” he asked dumbly, staring at Seonghwa. “What- Nothing,” he said quickly, realizing he must have spaced out. “Nothing’s wrong-“

“You stopped,” Seonghwa said quietly, glancing over Hongjoong in concern. “Do you want to stop? Our food is going to be cold anyway-“

“I didn’t want to stop,” Hongjoong assured him quickly, shaking his head the further Seonghwa’s frown deepened. His hand dropped from Seonghwa’s chest to his arm that still hovered by Hongjoong’s cheek. “Sorry. I was… I was just thinking about some things- Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“What things?” Seonghwa asked quietly, still frowning, as if trying to decide if Hongjoong was lying. “Are you… worried about something? Do you want some water?”

Hongjoong’s lips twitched, even as his throat closed up as Seonghwa straightened to stand up to fetch some water. Hongjoong stopped him with a gentle squeeze of his arm, shaking his head slowly.

Seonghwa hesitated, still peering at him curiously, but settled back on the couch, one hand still resting on Hongjoong’s knee.

“It wasn’t bad,” Hongjoong assured him, a laugh caught in his throat that didn’t leave. “I just… You’re nothing like he was,” he whispered, voice dropping as his expression pinched in near confusion.

For a second, he didn’t think Seonghwa would understand what he was talking about, but he saw the way his eyes darkened and his lips thinned, even as his brow pulled down in a pitying stare.

“This is my first real relationship since him,” Hongjoong told him, wondering if that made him a bit pathetic.

It had been what? Six years? Longer- since he left Yaechan?  

“And you just… you’re different from him in every way,” he said, glancing away because it probably wasn’t the best idea to be continuously bringing up his ex while in the middle of making out with his current boyfriend. “And- And that’s good,” he assured him quickly, not glancing up, though.

He stared at Seonghwa’s hand resting on his knees gently, and his own hand resting just above his wrist.

Seonghwa’s hand tensed- not gripping Hongjoong’s knee, but putting the barest amount of pressure where there had been none before.

“I may not… think that I’m necessarily good for you,” Seonghwa murmured roughly, though there was no true anger in his voice. Just something rough and thick.

His hand twitched on Hongjoong’s knee.

“But I would like to think… that I could at least treat you better… than someone like him.”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched as he glanced up at Seonghwa who was staring directly at him.

Something in his eyes was pained. Faint, but there. He stared at Hongjoong, and his thumb began rubbing gentle circles on the outside of his leg.

“I may come with dangerous things with me,” Seonghwa said, never glancing away, eyes intent and almost… asking Hongjoong to understand. “And the things around me may put you in danger… But it will never come from me, Hongjoong.”

He swallowed, feeling like a needle was stuck in his throat.

“Maybe I can’t guarantee that you’ll never be hurt, but… but I will never be what he was to you. I will never hurt you like that. I want to be good to you,” Seonghwa murmured roughly. “I want… to treat you right. And I want you to never have to feel unsafe. Least of all with me.”

Hongjoong saw Seonghwa’s jaw twitch.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he wet his parched lips and tasted saltwater on them. So maybe he wasn’t that strong.

“I know… I’ve tried to convince you that it’s dangerous, that it’s not worth it… I keep trying to convince you to go…” His hand squeezed Hongjoong’s knee comfortingly. “But as long as you’re here… as long as you choose not to leave… I am one person you will never have to be afraid of, Hongjoong.”

His vision blurred slightly as tears fell faster, dripping from his chin onto his lap as he stared at Seonghwa, lips trembling as Seonghwa stared at him, asking to be understood as sincere.

Hongjoong took a shaking breath as his free hand came up and brushed away the tears with his sleeve, surprised when his voice was strong enough to speak clearly.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, you idiot,” Hongjoong hissed, chest stuttering over more tears as Seonghwa’s hand seemed to brand his skin with its warmth. “N-Now do you get it?” he demanded weakly.

It didn’t matter what the world around Seonghwa would do- that world existed regardless, and was a threat, regardless.

Seonghwa wasn’t a threat.

Seonghwa didn’t make him feel unsafe.

Seonghwa was someone different and special, and Hongjoong wasn’t about to let that walk away without trying.

There was the soft fabric of a tissue brushed against Hongjoong’s cheek, clearing the tears there before it was handed to him, letting him blow his nose and take a breath.

When he looked up through semi-clear eyes, Seonghwa was staring at him still.

Not really with anymore pain or regret.

Just something soft and warm and gentle as he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” Seonghwa  said quietly, wetting his lips. “I think I get it a bit more, now.”

Hongjoong’s lips trembled, threatening to break again, but he took a sharp breath, nodding firmly. “Well, good because I’m tired of explaining it to you,” he muttered, feeling his heart about to beat out of his chest.

There was a quiet, level laugh from Seonghwa, who took the dirty tissue and set it aside, glancing back at Hongjoong who was busy staring at his hands to avoid having to lift his probably swollen, red eyes.

Hongjoong could feel the pressure of Seonghwa’s gaze, and he swallowed nervously at the comfortable but lengthy silence.

He twisted his fingers together. “Well… your aim is at least… better than mine….” Hongjoong muttered, shrugging one shoulder as his face pulled up in mock annoyance.

A pause.

And then a quiet, muted laugh from Seonghwa, which made Hongjoong look up and see him smiling quietly, though his eyes were brighter as he stared at Hongjoong.

It had been a long time since someone looked at Hongjoong like that.

“You’ll get better with practice,” Seonghwa assured him, squeezing his knee one more time before removing his touch completely.

The night was young, Hongjoong was emotional, and Seonghwa was perfect.

Hongjoong felt brave as he met Seonghwa’s eyes, despite how awful he probably looked. “Think you could tutor me?” he asked, lips twitching as his heart rabbited.

Seonghwa blinked, glancing  Hongjoong over and considering it with a gentle expression. “Our food is going to be cold,” he said, though it sounded more like a reminder than an excuse.

Hongjoong couldn’t help the way his lips stretched in a bright smile at the banter. “A quick lesson then?” he asked, shifting forward just slightly on the couch, putting them an inch closer.

For a moment, it seemed as if something had winded Seonghwa as he stared at Hongjoong blankly, lips parted slightly.

Hongjoong was almost afraid he’d said the wrong thing, but then Seonghwa swallowed.

“You’re a dangerous man, Hongjoong,” he said, voice a bit rough as he shifted forward until their knees pressed together.

Hongjoong felt a burst of anticipation in his chest as Seonghwa leaned in, and he leaned back until he was pressed against the back of the couch, and Seonghwa hovered over him.

It didn’t feel dangerous.

Not with Seonghwa eyes staring at him like he was a million stars.

“How am I dangerous?” He asked, something almost giddy building in his chest as Seonghwa’s body crowded against his, a hand threading through his hair oh so gently and resting at his nape, as his other one supported him to hover until just an inch separated their lips.

Seonghwa eyes were dark and hooded and warm as he flickered over Hongjoong’s face intently.

“Because I just know that all you’ll have to do is smile at me, and I’d give in, no matter what it is,” he whispered.

Hongjoong’s didn’t even have time to get embarrassed before their lips were pressed together again, and all he managed was a hand holding onto the front of Seonghwa’s shirt as the hand on the back of his neck began to slowly massage the muscles gently.

Hongjoong moaned, swallowed by Seonghwa’s mouth as he parted his lips, his tongue curling around Seonghwa’s when it entered, warm and wet- He couldn’t help the little pleased burst in his chest as Seonghwa made a deep sound in the back of his throat, pressing closer to Hongjoong until his torso finally turned from its twisted position of sitting.

Hongjoong was now sitting normally on the couch, and Seonghwa’s knees planted on one side of his thighs, lifting him a bit higher, Hongjoong gladly tilting his head back to follow, the hand in Seonghwa’s shirt tightening.

It was all warm and gentle and making Hongjoong feel like his muscles were about to break for the tension running through them. Not fear or anxiety, but like Seonghwa was a live battery sending voltage through his muscles in the best way possible.

Hongjoong didn’t think about Yaechan. He didn’t think about his past.

For the first time in a while, Hongjoong thought about the future.

And enjoyed his present as Seonghwa tilted his head just right to deepen the kiss intoxicatingly, making Hongjoong’s head spin as he moaned quietly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Seonghwa whispered, so quick and quiet between kisses that Hongjoong almost missed it.

But he heard it. And he melted as more emotions burned at the backs of his eyes.  

Hongjoong wanted a future with this. With this feeling of care and safety

He begged for that future.

~~~~~~~~~

Now

Hongjoong got a call from Yunho at 2:35 in the morning.

He jerked awake, startled by the loud sound of his phone ringing, bleary eyes glancing around their dark bedroom as his senses went a bit haywire.

Automatically, he rolled onto his back, freezing when he felt the space on the other side of the bed empty.

Last he remembered, he’d been waiting up for Seonghwa. The last time on the clock he had seen was 12:30.

The sheets were cold and in the exact same position they were when Hongjoong accidentally fell asleep.

Still too far asleep for panic, he rolled the other way, groaning as he fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, sitting up with his head spinning a bit from the harsh wake up call.

He saw Yunho’s name on his screen, and Hongjoong blinked tiredly at it for a moment, frowning.

It was probably a call to tell him that Seonghwa fell asleep at his desk again or something.

Hongjoong answered the call, leaning on one hand as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“’llo?” he greeted in a froggy voice, rubbing at his eyes.

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s voice came through, slightly breathless, as if he had been running. “I’m pulling up to your building now. Come downstairs.”

Hongjoong was silent for only a second before a switch flipped in his brain and sleep left like a piece of dirt sucked away in the wind.

“Why?” he asked, eyes flying open as he was already throwing his legs out of bed. “What happened? Is someone coming?”

The only thing he grabbed was his wallet on the nightstand and the robe on the chair, trying to get it on without dropping his phone, his sweatpants all twisted around his legs-

“You’re not in danger,” Yunho told him firmly, making Hongjoong pause.

Yunho had barely stopped speaking before Hongjoong’s stomach dropped, every single sense and nerve ending alighting as fear turned his blood to ice.

Yunho was hesitating, even if only slightly.

And that only meant one thing.

“Yunho... what happened to him-“

“Seonghwa got shot,” Yunho said quickly, voice crisp and dark and somber, but something terse in the back of it. “We don’t think it’s life threatening. He’s at the base with some of our medics who are taking care of it-“

“Where did he get shot that he needs medics?” Hongjoong whispered in horror, his knuckles white on his robe clenched in his fist.

It wasn’t the first time Seonghwa had ever gotten shot.

But they usually weren’t so… somber about it.

Hongjoong was already running for the door. “Yunho, tell me what the fuck happened-“

“He’s not dying,” Yunho stressed, that linger tension in his voice. “The bullet caught him in the side- the medics are just making sure it didn’t clip anything important. It should just be a bad wound without any-“

“Then why do you sound like something went wrong?” Hongjoong demanded, pressing the ground floor button of the elevator too many times as his heart stopped beating. “Why do you sound like he-“

“Yeosang was the one who shot him.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, mouth opening in shock as something fast and sharp ran through his heart. “You… You don’t mean on purpose,” he whispered, the idea of it so fucking wrong and twisted and wrong-

“No,” Yunho said quickly, sounding completely in control for the first time since the call began. “No, it’s wasn’t- No, Jesus, Hongjoong-“

“How the hell did Yeosang shoot him?” Hongjoong snapped, fist clenching, eyes beginning to water. “What the hell is that even supposed to mean?”  

“We were doing the bust tonight,” Yunho explained, that tremor back in his voice. “We went over our time limit. People started showing up, San and Mingi were getting swarmed, and Yeosang was picking them off-“

“Why the hell was Seonghwa even there?” he demanded, voice beginning to shake. “He was supposed to be doing comms with Jongho-“

“Way more people showed up than we thought,” Yunho muttered, a sigh catching the end of his words. “They were getting overwhelmed. Wooyoung and Seonghwa went to go help. It was fucking chaos- No one even knew what the hell was going on.”

Hongjoong could almost see it like a sick movie, playing in his head as Yunho spoke.

Yeosang, perched up on a building with his sniper, taking shot after shot of the people approaching the building they were fighting their way out of.

San, Mingi, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung caught up in a crowd of thugs, fighting their way through.

Yeosang aimed at one guy.

The crowd shifted as Seonghwa also attacked the same guy, jumping in at the last moment to snap his neck.

Yeosang managed to shift the bullet from hitting him through the head. The bullet still caught his side.

Chaos as Seonghwa went down, they were still outnumbered, and now had a man to transport before he bled out.

“Wooyoung grabbed Seonghwa and ran,” Yunho told him numbly. “The others managed to escape after a while. They’re already back at the base…. I figured someone should come get you.”  

Part of Hongjoong was overwhelmed with gratitude at being kept in the loop.

That part was currently drowning in the turmoil of icy fear.

The shot wasn’t likely life threatening, but until Hongjoong was able to see Seonghwa still alive…

He didn’t even want to imagine what Yeosang was feeling.

Yunho was sitting right where he promised, and Hongjoong ran out in bare feet to the car, still clutching his phone to his ear, despite the fact they’d hung up.

He felt floaty. Like things were happening outside of his control. Which they were.

It wasn’t the first time, or even the hundredth time Seonghwa had been hit.

By you’re fucking crazy if you thought that repetition made it hurt any less.

Hongjoong had been well prepared for fearing for his life. It was fearing for Seonghwa’s life- Seonghwa, who was so confident and assured, and even when he was injured, he was always so unbothered by it… Seonghwa, who always was truthful when an injury was bad, but there were rarely injuries severe enough to truly fear over.

Fearing for Seonghwa’s life was a constant line that traveled at the same level over time, so consistent that it was often mistaken as absent.

But when it spiked like this, it was only a painful reminder of just how much Hongjoong was risking.

Just how much Hongjoong couldn’t imagine what it would do to lose him.

He hated those thoughts, but they came anyway, like that unwanted guest.

He didn’t even know what he’d do, if Seonghwa died.

Seonghwa had told him, way back in their beginnings, that his penthouse and most everything else… were all left to Hongjoong. Ateez got a few things, but most of it… was meant to go to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong didn’t fucking want it.

What fucking good was it, without the person he’d built a home out of it with?

Hongjoong shook his head, forcibly shoving the unwanted guest out of his head as he distracted himself by asking Yunho if everyone else was okay.

But, like an unwanted guest, the stench of it lingered even after it was gone.

~~~~~~~~~

Then

Hongjoong didn’t exactly know what Yeosang and Wooyoung were.

No one ever implied that it was something to be concerned about, so he just accepted what he saw and moved on.

He’d considered that they were some sort of friends with benefits, but… he’d seen too many glimpses of emotions in their eyes to fully support that theory.

He’d thought that maybe they were just like him and Seonghwa- dating, invested, whatever- and doing all that alongside their illicit lifestyles. But they were almost… too casual? The way they spoke, the way they acted… Hongjoong could never really tell to what extent they felt things.

Were they just sort of like war buddies? People who had known each other for so long, there was no reason to keep any sort of boundaries? It was clear they cared for each other.

He’d seen the look on Wooyoung’s face when Yeosang had a run in with a thug who was just a second faster at drawing his gun.

He’d seen Yeosang turn paler than death as a call on the radio reported Wooyoung as having been hit in the field, status unknown.

He knew they were something. He just didn’t know what- if anything- they were. And for a long while, he accepted that.

But one day, curiosity had gotten the better of him, nearly two and half years after meeting Seonghwa and his team.

Yeosang got back from a job, sweating from the summer heat as he sat in a chair on the second floor, a half-empty water bottle in his grip as he wiped at his sweat with his discarded jacket.

Hongjoong had been going through receipts and order forms at the next table over, used to the others coming and going, so he didn’t even really look up at Yeosang’s presence

Not even when Wooyoung appeared, grinning broadly as he approached Yeosang.

“Hey, Yeo-“

“Jesus Christ- not now, Wooyoung,” Yeosang sighed, still panting slightly as he took another long drink of water. “I’m trying not to pass out.”

Hongjoong did glance up, though, to see whether Wooyoung would take the route of pouting and storming off in a huff, or if he would take it as an invitation to get on Yeosang’s nerves.

He chose the latter, continuing to smile and approach without even breaking stride.

“I’ll bet,” he chuckled, leaning on the table in front of Yeosang. “You guys were out there for like six hours.”

Yeosang tilted his head back, eyes closed. “Yes, I was sitting on a rooftop baking in my armor. I’m pretty sure I have heatstroke,” he sighed, rubbing more sweat from his forehead.

“And you didn’t even take a water bottle with you.”  

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting to be sitting in the fucking sun for six hours without cover,” Yeosang muttered, lifting his head to glare at Wooyoung before dropping it again. “So, I’m not really in the mood to- Gah!”

Yeosang shot up, making Hongjoong look up sharply as he pulled a wet rag off of his face, glaring at Wooyoung heatedly.

“That’s fucking cold,” he snapped, holding the rag as Wooyoung lowered his hand that had dropped it, grinning.

“That’s the point, dipshit,” Wooyoung chuckled, pushing off the table and leaning down.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened as he watched Wooyoung smoothly pull Yeosang’s shirt up and off before Yeosang could even finish being offended. For a terrifying moment, he thought they might try something right then and there.

Hongjoong had never witnessed the two of them going at it, and he really didn’t want to.

But Yeosang was shoving Wooyoung back, face suddenly a bit pinker, despite the already red tint to them. “Wooyoung-“

“Pulse points,” Wooyoung said, taking the rag swiftly from Yeosang and laying it over the back of his neck. He grabbed the cold water bottle from the table and brought Yeosang’s hands up, pressing his wrists to the bottle and having them hold it in the awkward way.

“I know what the fuck to do for heat-“

“Then why were you doing it?” Wooyoung questioned, his face smug, as if he had finally proven Yeosang wrong. “Still wearing all those clothes-“

“I’m not fucking you right now.”

“Fucking duh,” Wooyoung snorted, grinning as he straightened. “But if I want any chance of having fun tonight, I need you in top shape.”

Yeosang glared at him, adjusting his grip on the water bottle so that it wasn’t so awkward, but the cold was still pressed to the inside of his wrists. “You turn into even more of an asshole when you’re trying to be nice.”

Wooyoung almost looked proud.

“I need to go out with Jongho,” Wooyoung said, jerking his head towards the door. “But I heard that someone was being an idiot, so I came by to make sure you didn’t fuck yourself up.”

“Yes, I’m sure heat stroke is much more threatening than the dozens of stab and bullet wounds.”

Wooyoung chuckled, nose scrunching in amusement as he leaned down. “If I find out you pass out, you’ll be the one with blue balls for a week,” he said quietly, though still plenty loud enough for Hongjoong to hear.

He didn’t gag, still watching the way Wooyoung was staring at Yeosang intently- smiling mischievously but with something darker swimming in his eyes.

Hongjoong had spent the last two years learning all the little ways Seonghwa would show emotions, even when wearing a mask of work.

And Hongjoong had realized a while ago that Wooyoung was almost the opposite of Seonghwa. His work persona was carefree and reckless and loud. It wasn’t an act, but it was the parts of himself that he chose to wear during work.

It was the part of him that trailed after Yeosang, annoying the everloving shit out of him, that grinned under threat of punishment, and laughed when someone pointed a gun at him.

Contrary to Seonghwa, Wooyoung’s vulnerability came when he was serious.

Seonghwa was a hardened mask of anger and danger, until he let himself be vulnerable by showing a smile or a wince.

Wooyoung was an unbothered piece of shit… until he let that side of him that genuinely cared peek through.

Hongjoong had learned to see the warmth behind Seonghwa’s anger.

And he stared at Wooyoung’s impish grin that was hiding a darker light in his eyes. Something more serious. More genuine.

Yeosang stared back at him, not immediately snapping back some retort or just scoffing and pushing Wooyoung’s face aside. His usual impassive or annoyed face was neutral now, not revealing a single thing.

“You know how much I hate passing out,” Yeosang said, voice a little too even. “I’m not stupid enough to willingly let that happen.”

Wooyoung’s lips ticked up higher as something brightened in his eyes. “No, but you are stubborn enough.”

“I thought you found that sexy.”

“Not when you pass out,” Wooyoung warned him, placing a finger against Yeosang’s bare chest, grinning. “Unconscious isn’t sexy, Yeo.”

Yeosang’s fingers wrapped around Wooyoung’s wrist, holding it for a moment. “I got it,” he said plainly. “Now get going before Jongho starts bitching about you holding him up.”

For a moment, Hongjoong thought Wooyoung might refuse, but he just smiled knowingly as he leaned down, pecking Yeosang on the mouth before withdrawing completely.

“See you guys later,” he called over his shoulder, waving.

Hongjoong started, having believed for a moment that Wooyoung might have been oblivious to his presence. But apparently he’d chosen to have that… odd display even knowing Hongjoong was there.

Yeosang merely jerked his head in acknowledgement, flipping the rag on his neck and taking another sip of water, not even looking at Hongjoong who was staring at Yeosang quite obviously.

He knew Yeosang could feel him staring.

But he also knew that Yeosang wasn’t one to give an inch, unless you demanded a mile.

Yeosang took another sip, unbothered, as Hongjoong glanced at the door and then back at the sniper.

“What is Wooyoung to you?”

If Yeosang was taken aback by the question, he didn’t show it, not even glancing at Hongjoong for a moment, staring at the water bottle as he used the wet rag to wipe his face before replacing it.

When he finally glanced at Hongjoong, it was with the barest appearance of amusement hidden in the blank muscles of his expression.

“It took you two years to ask?” he asked, eyebrow lifting.

Hongjoong shrugged, unashamed after seeing clearly that this question wasn’t going to start any sort of conflict. “It wasn’t important.”

“It’s important now?” Yeosang asked, huffing a brief laugh, leaning back in the chair.

“Well, I did just witness a rather interesting interaction,” Hongjoong excused, a small laugh leaving his lips. “And I’ve been curious since I first met you, I just never bothered saying anything. No one else seems to really know, either. At least, not that they’ve told me.”

Yeosang hummed, as if that was a very interesting thought. But didn’t respond immediately.

Hongjoong waited an entire 60 seconds, and then figured that Yeosang just wouldn’t tell him. Which was fine, but he still waited, listening for Yeosang to say he wasn’t going to say anything.

Yeosang was staring at his hands holding the water bottle, intent and sharp as he rested his elbows on his knees.

Hongjoong was on the verge of returning to his receipts.

“I didn’t have… anything.”

Hongjoong paused where he was going to reach for his pen again, looking up quickly at Yeosang who hadn’t moved. Hongjoong could have thought he’d imagined the statement, but then Yeosang continued on, not even shifting. Like a ventriloquist was throwing his voice without needing to move.

“Nothing,” Yeosang said, and Hongjoong could just barely see his mouth moving. “No family, no home… no real reason to live… And then I had Wooyoung.”

There was no tension in his voice, no white knuckles on the water bottle- nothing to suggest that this was an uncomfortable or taboo subject. Yeosang spoke calmly, with the neutral voice of someone who had either said this over and over, or as someone so unbothered, it didn’t matter.

“I could probably tell you all about how I joined the gang he was in, he gave me a reason to live again, he was my first friend- that’s the mundane shit, though.”

Hongjoong couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped. “Yes, gang activity is always so boring.”

Yeosang threw him a look that was exasperatedly amused. “It’s the same story anyone who joins a gang has. That gang becomes your family. Your only support.” He dropped his eyes thoughtfully. “I wasn’t really interested in anyone else in the gang. They didn’t like that I seemed to be more loyal to Wooyoung than the actual guys in charge.”

Hongjoong winced, already able to guess where this went.

“I got the shit beaten out of me, Wooyoung got me out- putting himself on their shitlist in the process- and we were running from them for a while. Found Seonghwa, joined… the rest is history.” Yeosang shrugged, unbothered, turning back to his almost empty water bottle.

He said it like it was a commonplace occurrence. And Hongjoong had been here long enough to know that some of these people had crazy stories.

But he waited a moment before raising an eyebrow. “But… what is he to you?” he asked quietly.

Yeosang glanced back, lifting his own eyebrow. “I just told you.”

“Well… you said what you’d gone through, but-“

“There’s no label that fits us, and we aren’t exactly interested in finding one,” Yeosang told him, firm but entirely kind. “You’re one to talk- What the hell are you and Seonghwa? Boyfriends? You call yourselves husbands. You aren’t interested in getting actually married. You’re exclusive, public, but sort of a secret. You think any title can encapsulate that?”

He stared at Hongjoong expectantly, and sometimes he really hated how good Yeosang was at talking people into corners.

“Point taken,” Hongjoong conceded, bowing his head. “But… do you love him? Are you exclusive? Is just a friends with benefits situation? Even without a title- what are you to each other?”

Because there are a million things they could fall under- any sort of Frankenstein conglomerate of relationships.

But… was it purely physical? What?

Yeosang lifted his eyes, staring Hongjoong dead in his eyes. For a moment, Hongjoong almost backed down and apologized.

But it wasn’t anger in Yeosang’s eyes. However, it was as hard as steel as he held Hongjoong’s gaze intently, serious enough to have Hongjoong sitting up straighter.

“I want you to imagine having nothing,” Yeosang said calmly. “Nothing but habit keeping you alive because you just can’t be bothered to let yourself die.”

Hongjoong swallowed, chewing on his cheek.

“And I want you to imagine someone coming along and giving it all back to you- and more.” He tilted his head, expression opening to something questioning. “What the hell do you think you’re going to feel for that person? You think it’s easy to find a way to describe what that person becomes to you?”

Hongjoong stared, thinking of the million times he’d try to find the right word for what Seonghwa had done for him. “No,” he replied quietly, expression understanding. “I don’t think it’s easy at all.”

Yeosang lifted a hand as if to say ‘there you go.’

“Then what are you to Wooyoung?” Hongjoong asked, leaning his elbows on the table carefully. “As someone… who gave that to you?”

Hongjoong had long since moved past the point of ever being afraid of these people. He knew some questions may spark an uncomfortable anger, like any person may get when asked a question too personal.

However, he never expected Yeosang to laugh breathily, shaking his head as his lips twitched upwards. He flipped the water bottle in his grip, staring at it almost… fondly.

“You know that stray cat you find? Half-drowned, probably starving… and you take it home, intending to only keep it a week, but somehow you find yourself way too attached, too quickly? And you know you should probably get rid of it... but you don’t.”

His lips twitched again as he set the water bottle down.

“I’d say that’s a pretty good description.”

Hongjoong was torn between awe at the two of them and something that wanted to squish Yeosang’s cheeks.

But he smiled gently. “I’m sure that Wooyoung definitely sees you as more than a stray cat.”

“Oh, no, he definitely does,” Yeosang said, chuckling quietly, glancing at Hongjoong with knowing eyes. “He’s an idiot who thinks that I’m the most pure thing in the world.”

He said it as if the thought was ridiculous.

But Hongjoong had never seen his eyes so bright as he rolled them hard enough to hurt.

It answered all of his questions… and none at all.

Yeah.

That was about right.

~~~~~~~~~~

Now

There was a cot set up in the middle of the main room on the second floor of the base.

Hongjoong had been sitting on the ground beside it for about two hours now, staring at nothing as his hand rested on Seonghwa’s that laid on top of the blanket over him.

It covered the bandage wrapped around his side, which Hongjoong was grateful for because staring at it was making him feel a bit ill as he gently brushed a thumb along Seonghwa’s hand.

According to the medic, there was nothing life threatening- just a need for the area to heal and a bit of work afterwards to regain full motion.

Hongjoong was repeating that to himself over and over.

San, Mingi, and Yunho were all sitting on the couches nearby, silent and somber as they all waited. Mingi was half asleep, San was laying down but wide awake, and Yunho would stand periodically to walk around before sitting back down.

For two hours, they all sat in silence, until the door opened.

Jongho stepped in, expression tense and worried as he closed the door behind himself.

“Where’ve you been?” San mumbled, following Jongho with his eyes as he sat beside Yunho.

“Making sure no loose ends got left behind,” Jongho said tiredly, glancing at Seonghwa and then looking away quickly.

“Did you see Yeosang or Wooyoung?” Yunho asked carefully, voice carefully even.

“I checked the cameras and saw them sitting in the hall on the third floor,” Jongho replied, voice terse. “I didn’t linger. Yeosang didn’t look great, though.”

There was not a single person here who blamed Yeosang. Nor placed any amount of responsibility on the consequences of an honest mistake.

No one… of course, except Yeosang.

The tension in the air was of concern for what had happened, but mainly of uncertainty for what should be done. Because Yeosang was not going to want to talk this out, nor accept innocence on his own part.

Ateez was a perfect team.

How the hell could Yeosang excuse shooting his own leader, in his own mind?

 Hongjoong’s grip tightened on Seonghwa’s hand, jaw clenching in a muted anger. “He can’t honestly blame himself,” Hongjoong said quietly, glancing at the others with eyes that had been burning for hours now. “Seonghwa was the one who moved.”

San shook his head, voicing what they all already knew: “Yeosang’s good at doing all the things you think he shouldn’t.”

Hongjoong huffed, guilt and an ache in his chest as he stared at Seonghwa’s face.

It had a healthy color, his expression peaceful, and an IV drip of things attached to his arm. It was alarming. It was frightening.

But it was not Yeosang’s fault. Nor was it something for him to tear himself apart over.

“Has he seen Seonghwa since it happened?” Hongjoong asked quietly, glancing over his shoulder.

“He got to the base, and Wooyoung was already there taking him up to the third floor,” San murmured, expression loose and numb as he stared at the pattern on the sofa.

Hongjoong looked back at Seonghwa, feeling that tugging in his chest that was terrified to leave his side.

But he felt the warm skin beneath his hand, the gentle expression on his face, and the bandage that was safely secured…

Swallowing his own fear and selfishness, he released Seonghwa’s hand, letting it fall gently back into the cot. “I’m going to talk to him,” he said quietly, eyes trailing over Seonghwa as he took a few steps away.

It felt like a magnetic pull trying to urge him back to Seonghwa’s side, but he clenched his fists against the irrational fear.

“You sure?” Yunho asked as Hongjoong passed him slowly. “He’s not going to be eager to come here.”

“The last time he saw Seonghwa, he was shooting him on accident,” Hongjoong said firmly, not looking back. “I think it’ll be better if he sees that Seonghwa’s not in any danger. He needs to know that he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Good luck,” San murmured, muted but entirely genuine. “Let us know if he gives you trouble. Though, Wooyoung will probably have your back.”

Hongjoong hummed, pausing at the door and glancing back for only a moment. “Just… let me know the second anything changes. I shouldn’t be long.”

“We’ve got it,” Jongho assured him, voice firm enough that Hongjoong was sure he’d physically fight any infection himself.

Hongjoong smiled gratefully, eyes burning a bit more as he blinked rapidly, leaving.

He’d been telling the truth. He got Seonghwa by agreeing to this life… but he got so much more than just that.

The warehouse was mostly empty as Hongjoong came out onto the catwalk, ignoring the goings on below him as he walked up to the third floor.

This floor was mainly unused, unless they needed extra space for something, or a more remote meeting room. It was also used as a place for people to spend a night over (people within Ateez, of course. Regular KQ thugs weren’t allowed beyond the first floor of this building.).

Half of Hongjoong’s head tried to stay back with Seonghwa, but he forced it to leave with a sharp shake of his head and clenching his fists.

Seonghwa was fine.

They’d been through this before, the scared was over, and Seonghwa was fine.

Yeosang however… was not as fine.

He almost felt bad for trying to intrude on the two of them. Wooyoung certainly would be better at comforting Yeosang than Hongjoong could ever be. But he just…

He wanted to help. And maybe part of it was needing to leave Seonghwa for minutes, like you might refuse an appealing drug. It was too easy to want to stay at Seonghwa’s side and never leave.

Even if for a few minutes… he needed to stop obsessing, now that Seonghwa’s condition was stable.

The third floor was dark, save for dim energy saving lights spaced along the wall. Hongjoong stood at the door from the stairs for a moment, glancing around to ensure he wasn’t about to step in at the wrong moment.

But the hallway was empty.

Hongjoong stepped out slowly, closing the door quietly as he stood at the mouth of the hallway that was lined with half-open doors.

Only three doors long the hall were completely closed, and Hongjoong walked down the tile path slowly, slightly creeped out by the quiet and near-darkness that seemed to hide things.

Swallowing, he glanced at the doors that stood ajar, but stopped at the first door that was closed completely.

He grabbed the handle carefully, twisting gently and finding it locked.

He glanced up, moving on with quiet steps, glancing in as he went, until he came to the second door across the hall.

The door swung open easily, but the office space inside was completely empty. Hongjoong ignored the other open doors, frowning slightly at the continued silence as he went for the last closed door, just three down.

His hand touched the knob carefully, gripping in preparation to turn it. He did so slowly, not wanting to create a noise to startle them- the door giving way silently.

It had barely opened an inch before he froze, eyes widening.

The silence around him acted like a speaker carrying the quiet sounds of heavy breathing and quiet voices- a choked, forcefully quiet moan starting and then cutting off quickly, like someone was desperately trying to stay quiet-

Hongjoong stumbled away from the door quickly, absolutely having no intention of interrupting, mortified at his own presence.

He absolutely understood. Sometimes, comfort came in different ways. Sometimes, a release of emotions was needed before you could move. Even for Hongjoong, sometimes it was crying, and sometimes it was asking Seonghwa to give him something to do to take his mind away.

More often than not, it involved something intimate.

Hongjoong understood.

He also understood that this was quite possibly the worst moment that could be his first time walking in on the two of them, in nearly four years.

The door was still ajar, though, and Hongjoong knew that the likelihood of anyone else coming up here was almost zero after he explained what the two of them were up to… but it seemed wrong to have broken open the space they made.

Quickly, Hongjoong stepped back up to the door, grabbing the knob to close it once more, only getting as far as grabbing it before he realized that the heavy breathing he was hearing wasn’t exactly pleasured.

Hongjoong froze as a broken sob sounded, cut in half with a moan and quiet gasp, sounding overwhelmed-

The sound of bodies shifting ceased.

“It’s okay,” he heard Wooyoung’s voice whispering gently. “I’ve got you, it’s okay-“

“N-No, it’s not,” Yeosang whispered, voice shaking with audible tears as the two of them seemed to have paused.  “I fucking shot him-“

“You didn’t do it on fucking purpose, Yeosang,” Wooyoung whispered forcefully, though there was something shattered mingling in, as if he was also on the verge of crying. “It’s not your fault. We mess up sometimes-“

“I could have killed him,” Yeosang hissed brokenly, a sob breaking through at the end.

“He’s not dead,” Wooyoung pressed, voice breaking, making Hongjoong’s jaw tighten. “He was stable before the rest of you even got here. He’s okay, Yeosang-“

“I shot him-“

The broken cry was swallowed by a weak cry, breaking into shaking breaths that sounded as if Yeosang were about to hyperventilate.

Nothing like this had ever happened to them.

“I’ve got you,” Wooyoung whispered, voice as soft as velvet. “It’s okay, Yeosangie, just breathe… I’ve got you, it’s okay…”

“I th-thought I killed him,” Yeosang cried, voice weak and breaking. “I thought-“

“I know, but you didn’t,” Wooyoung murmured comfortingly, a tone of warmth that Hongjoong had never heard anything close to. “We get hit sometimes,” he whispered quietly. “But at the end of the day… we’re okay, Yeosang. Isn’t that what you always told me?”

The quiet, broken laugh that left Wooyoung struck Hongjoong in the chest with a knife.

“It doesn’t matter how shit we look at the end of the day… as long as we’re alive.”

There were more tears, quiet breaths and the sound of Wooyoung hushing him quietly.

Hongjoong shut the door quickly, but as silently as possible, backing away slowly.

Somehow, it seemed like that conversation was the intimate moment he had walked in, more than the actual act they were partaking in.

He turned, walking away to the stairs and walking down them quickly, leaving the two of them behind.

Somehow, he had more questions than ever about what the two of them were.

But it somehow explained everything he could possibly want to know.

And it had worked: for a few minutes, he hadn’t been able to even think about Seonghwa’s condition. And when he got back to the room, returning to his seat… he felt calmer.

“Are they coming?” San asked, following him with his eyes as he entered the room.

Hongjoong paused where he was aiming to sit beside Seonghwa again… staring… before slowly turning to sit on the empty couch, still keeping him within view.

“They were… occupied,” he said tactfully, seeing everyone in the room nod in understanding.

“Things must be going better than we thought, then,” Yunho noted, looking pleasantly surprised, managing a worried smile.

Hongjoong was hesitant to bring it up, but he winced. “Not based on what I was hearing… It didn’t sound like Yeosang was holding up well.”

Jongho shook his head slowly, though, looking completely sure. “Nah… if they’re going at it, then the majority of things have been worked through.”

“Wooyoung would never be fucking around if Yeosang was still hurting,” San assured him firmly. “That’s like… a rule. If they’re having sex… both of them were able to fix something.”

Most of Yeosang and Wooyoung’s physical relationship was still foreign to Hongjoong. He had no idea of the existence of any such rule. But the others spoke with such conviction… he supposed that it could very well just be a comfort through the last stages of grief they had already worked through.

A reminder, rather than a conviction.

His chest unlocked slightly as he nodded slowly. “Good,” he managed weakly, removing the memory was his immediate thought firmly.

That wasn’t his to have.

He curled up to the arm of the couch, resting his head on it so that he could see Seonghwa easily.

“Get some rest,” Yunho urged quietly. “He probably won’t wake up until morning.”

Hongjoong hummed, having no intention to try and fall back to sleep.

Even if his eyes got tired enough to close, blocking him from actually seeing Seonghwa, he was still listening with his ears.

And even if he maybe dozed… he didn’t sleep. Because an undetermined amount of time later, he heard the door of the room open, too tired to lift his head.

He heard quiet voice murmuring.

Hongjoong cracked his eyes open, finding the lights dimmed and everyone but Jongho asleep on their couches.

He also saw Yeosang settling beside Seonghwa’s cot, kneeling down and staring at him. He could only see the back of his head, but Wooyoung settled beside him, an arm resting around his waist as they continued to talk quietly.

Hongjoong closed his eyes.

He hadn’t realized there was anything keeping him up, but with the knowledge that Yeosang was here to see that he hadn’t ruined anything…

Unwillingly, Hongjoong was asleep within minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Then  

Hongjoong blinked, staring at Seonghwa blankly over the takeout they had ordered.

“You want me to what?” he asked numbly.

Usually, when they had conversation, Seonghwa would eat and talk, would stare off, would casually talk while having something else occupying his attention.

Now, though… he was staring at Hongjoong quietly, expression softened around every corner, leaving nothing sharp or dark to poke out.

His eyes, though, clearly said that he understood the weight of what he was asking.

“Move in with me,” Seonghwa repeated quietly, folding his hands in his lap, looking equal parts nervous and understanding. “I’d… like that.”

Hongjoong slowly put down his chopsticks, feeling his stomach flipping as he glanced around the penthouse.

He’d been living on his own since Yaechan. Moving in with Yaechan… was the moment everything had fallen apart.

Seonghwa knew this.

“I don’t want to even suggest anything you’re not ready for,” Seonghwa murmured warmly, expression open. “And I know it’s… only been a little over six months…” He rolled his lips, but didn’t look away. “Maybe it’s presumptuous of me. I know that it’s a big thing to consider, and I’m sorry for just suddenly dropping it.” He frowned, shaking his head. “I probably should have… lead up to it slowly, shouldn’t I? Suggested the concept before just asking you it out of the blue-”

“Could you shut up for a second so I can panic properly?” Hongjoong asked, waving a hand and tearing his eyes away from Seonghwa and pressing a hand to his racing heart.

It wasn’t exactly anxiety rushing through his veins, but it was something that made his hands shake and his heart clench.

“Forget that it was a question,” Seonghwa said quickly, shaking his head, waving erasing hands. “Just- Pretend that I just delicately posed the statement that I was ready for that step when you were. Don’t even think about it yet-“

“I’m panicking ,” Hongjoong half-snapped, glaring at Seonghwa. “Give me a second.”

“Well, stop panicking,” Seonghwa begged, expression twisting gently. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t-“

Hongjoong’s glare sharpened, and Seonghwa fell silent, lips pressed together as Hongjoong took a slow breath.

Okay.

Things with Seonghwa were really, really fucking good. Even with… everything. His equally terrifying (but not quite terrifying) friends… his lifestyle… the shadows that seemed to follow them when they went on certain dates…

It was all working out.

But things with Yaechan had been perfect until they moved in together. It was at that point that things started to crumble.

And part of Hongjoong was ready to cry because he didn’t want what he had right now to fall apart.

He didn’t want to go back to that life.

And there was no part of him that believed Seonghwa to be anything like Yaechan. Not even as a distant fear. He had the still-healing hickies on his neck and stomach to prove it- places he never wanted anyone to touch for how exposed and vulnerable it made him feel.

Hongjoong had slowly broken through every protective rule he’d put in place, with Seonghwa. And it was the most liberating, freeing experience he’d ever had.

It was a beautiful feeling, being with Seonghwa.

The only thing stilling his tongue was the distant fear of losing all of it.

He’d spent the night at Seonghwa’s more times than he could count, to the point that he was here or at the base more than he was at his own apartment. Physically, it wasn’t much more than moving his things over.

Emotionally…

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa prompted in a pleading whisper.

Hongjoong hushed him harshly, clenching his jaw.

It wasn’t Seonghwa Hongjoong was afraid of.

It was his past.

Hongjoong had seen Seonghwa shoot people. Had seen him slam faces into brick, kick men until they fell to the ground, break a man’s jaw and nose…

Not once had he ever felt fear when Seonghwa looked at him.

Not when there was blood on his hands or shirt or skin… not when there was a weapon in his hands… not when his hands were on Hongjoong… not even when Hongjoong was most vulnerable beneath him.

Not even when he realized that the hands that were holding him so gently had killed people.

Because they weren’t hurting him.

They cherished and touched and hold and stroked and embraced Hongjoong. Never even tight enough to bruise, if Hongjoong wanted it.

Seonghwa was the best thing that could have ever happened to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong wanted to proudly declare that a past fear would not keep him from getting that happiness. He would never let Yaechan be the reason he turned down happiness.

The words still caught in his throat.

Because what if it all fell apart, and he lost everything?

He glanced at Seonghwa who was watching him in quiet concern, though holding his tongue for the moment as Hongjoong glanced around this place.

It was large and comfortable… a place Hongjoong become as comfortable in as his own home. A place… he’d imagine sharing with Seonghwa, in a perfect scenario.

Such genuine happiness and such chilling fear warred in his blood as he thought about permanently sharing this space.

Hongjoong’s phone buzzed in his pocket with some notification, and his lips pressed together tightly.

He remembered… a couple of months ago, a text he’d gotten from Seonghwa.

He’d opened it at the shop, seeing a still loading image attached to his text.

Seonghwa: I don’t know how to actually get a hold of one of these. But since you’re always finding things to say, I figured I say my own thing.

Hongjoong had frowned, confused at the meaning before the image finally loaded, showing an internet image of a flower.

A gladiolus, to be exact. The flower of gladiators.

Moral integrity. Protection. Desire to defend. You’ve pierced my heart with passion.  

The flower… said more than words ever could.

Not just a desire to defend- a show of moral integrity. A testament to honor and nobility, like the gladiators carried with them into battles. Not just “I will defend you.”

I will protect you with my honor and my life.

Hot tears filled Hongjoong’s eyes fast and mercilessly as his lips trembled, hands clutching each other tightly.

Seonghwa’s expression broke into one of agony. “Hongjoong,” he whispered, standing  quickly and walking to the other end of the sofa, sitting beside him and reaching out with hesitant hands that didn’t touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pained as his hand settled gingerly on his knee. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just brought it up so suddenly-“

“N-No,” Hongjoong said quickly, shaking his head, clenching his eyes that made more tears seep out. “No, I- I want that, Seonghwa,” he croaked weakly, wiping at his eyes.

He managed to see Seonghwa through his hands, his expression heartbroken as gentle hands caught Hongjoong’s, pulling them away from his face and framing his cheek softly.

Hongjoong’s heart expanded in his chest as Seonghwa stared at him in concern, expression pinched as he slowly brushed the tears away.

“We have time,” he whispered gently, stroking Hongjoong’s cheek comfortingly. “Never rush yourself, Hongjoong… I just want you to be happy-“

“I am happy,” Hongjoong cried, lips pulling up at the soft hands holding him.

Always, always, always… so gentle.

He laid his hands over Seonghwa’s warm ones, holding them weakly. “I’m so fucking happy, Seonghwa, all the time,” he whispered, eyes sparkling despite the tears. “And I want what you’re offering me so much ,” he hissed as his thumb cleared more blurring tears. “You’re unreal, Seonghwa-“

“I am real,” he broke in quietly, scanning Hongjoong’s face. “And the last thing I want to do is hurt you, Hongjoong. I don’t want you to rush-“

“I want that,” Hongjoong whispered, blinking tears away to clear his eyes as he smiled, which probably looked horrendously broken. “I want it,” he repeated firmly, holding Seonghwa’s hand tighter. “I only hesitated... because I forgot for a minute whose hands I was in.”

Seonghwa’s expression pinched. “Hongjoong, I can’t keep you safe from everything-“

“Doesn’t matter,” he whispered, staring at Seonghwa’s eyes and seeing a million emotions. “You’re going to try. And that’s all I want.”

Seonghwa stared at him, hesitating, and then Hongjoong saw the tears beginning to gather, and felt his heart finally break as he managed a full smile, removing his hands from Seonghwa’s and cupping his face gently.

“Why are you crying?” Hongjoong asked, laughing wetly as the tears built faster. “You’re the one who suggested it, dummy.”

His thumb caught the tears that fell, Seonghwa’s eyes closing gently.

“Would you believe me if I said I never thought you’d actually agree?” Seonghwa said weakly, opening his eyes that shone.

“Idiot,” Hongjoong laughed weakly, warmth bubbling in his blood. “Do you even know how much I love you?”

Seonghwa managed a weak smile. “I do remember a few things about you saying that, a few hours after you’d been shot at.”

“Listen, if I can love you while being shot at… I don’t think there’s much else to really hesitate over.”

“I love that you’re completely insane,” Seonghwa whispered, managing to laugh quietly. He swallowed. “I want you here with me, Hongjoong,” he murmured warmly. “I want to live with you.”

Hongjoong’s throat closed up, more tears threatening. “You’re in luck,” he croaked. “I’m completely insane, and would absolutely love to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Maybe it was a bit far in the future. But Hongjoong was learning that seeing the future was just as important as living in the present.  

They both laughed, more tears falling as Hongjoong pulled away, rubbing at his own eyes and clearing his throat roughly.

He really wanted this.

The thought of existing here… of making a home here, with Seonghwa… of filling this place with bits and piece of both of them…

Doing it right this time.

Without losing it all.

Doing it right with Seonghwa.

“I want… to treat you right, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quietly, voice heavy and genuine. “I want to give you a place… a life where you never have to be afraid.”  

Hongjoong didn’t look up immediately, clenching a fist to keep from either punching Seonghwa in the stomach or kissing him until neither of them could breathe.

“You’ve already given me that,” Hongjoong managed, lifting his head and wiping at the last tears clinging to his lashes. “And I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

“I didn’t do it for thanks,” Seonghwa assured him, a hand holding Hongjoong’s tightly.

It only felt safe.

Never confining.

“And I never did it consciously, Hongjoong,” he whispered, looking at him intently. “It’s not a choice I make that I don’t want you to be afraid. It’s inherent.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. He knew this.

He knew what Seonghwa was, in the very core of himself. And he smiled quietly as Seonghwa squeezed his hand, spreading warmth up his arm.

“Moving in with you… is probably the best decision I’ve made this week,” Hongjoong managed, both of them laughing quietly as Seonghwa suddenly had his arms around Hongjoong, holding him close.

Hongjoong melted into his arms, tucking his head against Seonghwa’s chest as strong arms held him firmly, warm and encasing.

“I love you,” Hongjoong whispered, burying his face in Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt that smelled like him.

“I love you, too,” Seonghwa murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Hongjoong’s hair, one hand playing with the strands at the back idly, making Hongjoong melt further into the embrace.

Seonghwa was his safe place.

“I also think,” Seonghwa murmured conversationally into his hair that he slowly stroked, “that it would be best if we started referring to ourselves as husbands.”

Hongjoong frowned. Pulled away from Seonghwa’s chest and stared up at him in bewilderment.

“What the fuck, Seonghwa ? ”

~~~~~~~~~

Now

Seonghwa woke up feeling numb on his left side.

Yeah, that sounded about right.

He opened his eyes slowly, feeling heavy and tired, but in no pain as he stared off with his head tilted to the left.

A single flower stalk in a vase stared back at him.

He blinked slowly, and the one stalk turned into two.

Two flowers were staring back at him.

The only reason Seonghwa was able to recognize them was because he’d seen them so many times.

Oleander. Caution.

Geranium. Stupidity.

And he only knew these so well because he received them every time a serious injury occurred.

They mean be careful, you stupid idiot.

He woke up a bit more after seeing them, smiling quietly and chuckling to himself at Hongjoong’s voice practically echoing in his head.

“Oh, I’m glad you find them amusing.”

He turned slowly, careful not to shift too much, until he was facing his left side.

Hongjoong knelt beside the cot he lay on, elbows resting on the edge as he stared at Seonghwa expectantly.

Despite knowing there was a bit of clean up to do, Seonghwa let himself smile gently. “Did you really leave here, just to go and get them from your shop?” he asked softly.

“Your stupidity must be properly addressed.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Seonghwa murmured, still smiling up at Hongjoong who looked like he’d had a rough night.

He still seemed to glow.

“It was a freak accident. You can’t seriously blame me,” Seonghwa pressed, giving Hongjoong a carefully calculated look of pleading.

Hongjoong stared back, unimpressed. “I blame you more than I could blame Yeosang. I blame you because I had a fucking heart attack last night getting a call like that.”

“Is that my fault?” Seonghwa posed lightly. “It didn’t plan any of this.”

“No, you’re just an absolute asshole, and I hate you.”

Seonghwa chuckled quietly, grabbing Hongjoong’s slightly chilled hand and squeezing it firmly. He looked at him knowingly as Hongjoong continued to glare.

“Do I get my ‘thank God you’re alive’ kiss yet?” he asked, eyes begging like a child for a cookie.

And yeah, maybe Seonghwa should have seen it coming, but the slap Hongjoong delivered to his bare chest sticking out from the covers was probably well deserved.

“I’m going to actually kill you one day,” Hongjoong huffed, getting to his feet as he planted one knee on the edge of the cot, kissing Seonghwa hard.

Seonghwa smiled, even if his chest was already doing its little twist of regret for putting Hongjoong through this again.

It wasn’t quite routine, but it was close. But the number of times that it happened never made a different for how much he regretted putting him through this.

So he lifted one hand, threading it through Hongjoong’s hair gently, holding him as Hongjoong’s lips parted, and the kiss deepened, one of Hongjoong’s hands laying against his bare chest, fingernails just barely digging in for the tension behind them.

Seonghwa wanted to hold him properly. To show him that it was all okay.

Hongjoong was too far away- hovering over Seonghwa to avoid touching his wound, and Seonghwa wanted to pull him down until he could feel him properly- feel his heart beating and his skin warming and his body functioning.

He massaged Hongjoong’s scalp gently, brushing through the strands comfortingly as his nails ran over his skin gently.

Anything to provide that comfort.

He felt Hongjoong shudder, nails digging in just barely more.

The hand on his chest suddenly rose to hold his jaw, tilting his head as he kissed deeper, warm and wet and hard- not frantic, like it used to be.

There wasn’t a rush of realizing that they were still alive, still okay.

Now, it was more like a relieving weight of a blanket settling across their shoulders- grounding and focusing. It made the kiss deep and calculated and showing all the relief that would either exit in cries or moans.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa whispered between kisses, hand holding Hongjoong gently.

“Shut up,” Hongjoong muttered before resealing their kiss firmly, eyes closing gently, the sensation of relief washing over them in familiar waves.

The kiss only lasted another few seconds before Hongjoong broke away, both of them breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against Seonghwa’s collarbone, still holding his face gently.

Seonghwa stared down at his long hair, running fingers through it, feeling the strands fall through and back against his neck as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Hongjoong shifted closer, until his body on top of Seonghwa’s became more of a awkward embrace, avoiding his left side.

“You’re an idiot, I love you, and if I ever get another 2AM phone call, I’m going to rip your dick off and stick it on your grave as an ornament.”

“I’ll remember that,” Seonghwa whispered, not laughing as Hongjoong tucked his face against his chest, like burying your face in a pillow.

Careful not to fuck anything up, Seonghwa wrapped his arms around Hongjoong tightly, burying his nose in his hair, his own brand of relief washing over him with the familiar scent and feeling of the body in his arms.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Hongjoong murmured somberly, fingers curling into a loose fist. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

Seonghwa hummed, continuing to run fingers through his hair, watching the strands fall through. “Does Yeosang know that?” he asked carefully.

That was a conversation that would need to happen. Yeosang carried a lot of things beneath the surface, carefully hidden away.

“From what I’ve gathered… things are okay,” Hongjoong said quietly, beginning to slowly draw patterns in Seonghwa’s skin. “He and Wooyoung were talking… and then got a bit more intimate.”

Seonghwa hummed, nodding in understanding. “Then things… will be okay,” he said, relieved.

Honestly, getting both of them was the best thing to ever happen. They were like ferrets. Someone coming with Yeosang who seemed to understand him beneath the sarcasm and overly violent tendencies. And someone coming with Wooyoung who was able to control him (sometimes) and understand him beneath all the screaming laughter.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong murmured, turning his face into Seonghwa’s chest. “Yeah, it’ll be okay…”

Seonghwa knew he was likely still reeling from the scare (the largest hint being the tight grip he had on the sheets beside Seonghwa). And he rubbed a comforting hand up and down his spine slowly.

With each inch of tension that left Hongjoong, Seonghwa felt his own chest unlock, until Hongjoong was laying almost completely against him, pliant and tired as their breathing synched.

Seonghwa didn’t usually fear getting hit on a job. Even after it happened, it was more of an inconvenience than a real fear.  

But in the split second between feeling the bullet in his side and passing out… he’d been so afraid of dying before he’d done it.

That maybe things went wrong this time, and he just… never got around to it.

That Hongjoong would have never known, despite having always known.

Opening his eyes and seeing Hongjoong…

Seonghwa was running a bit of a race against time, living his life. They all were. It was a constant battle between two was faster, who was stronger, who was better…

Seonghwa had spent a lot of his life hesitating, once Hongjoong entered. He hesitated and he feared.

He feared hurting Hongjoong, losing him, distancing him… A million different mistakes that might break something.

By year two of their relationship, he should have known.

He didn’t have time to hesitate. He didn’t have the luxury to hesitate. And the fact that it had been months that he’d been putting off- for what?

What could he possibly be afraid of?

He had everything he ever wanted handed to him directly, and he was still hesitating, like it was something so easily lost?

As if losing Hongjoong was that easy?

He hugged Hongjoong a bit tighter, kissing his temple firmly, eyes clenched shut.

No more hesitating.

~~~~~~~~~

Then

Hongjoong sat on the bed of their bedroom, staring with a broken expression, still shaking.

Seonghwa stood in the doorway, his arm in a sling, expression dark with regret as he stared at Hongjoong.

“Is this really what you want?” he demanded quietly, the cast and Hongjoong’s tremors two elephants squeezing into their room.

Hongjoong felt the tears dripping down his cheek, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“This?” Seonghwa demanded, firmer as he gestured to his arm. “Getting shot at- just for walking down the street?”

Hongjoong winced, not out of fear, but out of regret. But he still didn’t move.

“What if I hadn’t been fast enough?” Seonghwa demanded sharply. “What if I hadn’t seen him? If he’d actually shot you-“

His voice died out, not breaking, but fading like a balloon run out of air as Seonghwa stared sharply, turning away as he drew a hand across his face.

“I’m sorry…” Hongjoong’s voice shook so hard, he wasn’t even sure if Seonghwa understood his words. He stared at Seonghwa, hands still trembling as he squeezed them. “I- I should have seen him… I’m s-sorry-“

“Christ- Hongjoong, it’s not your fault,” Seonghwa breathed roughly, turning back around to stare at him with a mixture of agony and anger. “You’re not supposed to look for things like that,” he said weakly, gesturing at nothing. “It’s not- not your fault-“

He broke off, covering his face with a shaking hand, taking an unsteady breath.

“It is, though,” Hongjoong whispered after a moment, voice hideously weak. “I- I’m normal, I’m not- I’m not strong enough or fast enough- You got shot because of me, Seonghwa-“

“It wasn’t because of you,” Seonghwa breathed brokenly, not looking at him.

“He was aiming for me, ” Hongjoong fought, tears falling faster as he fisted the blankets beneath him. “The only reason you got hit was b-because I was looking at stupid flowers- “

“It’s not your fucking fault that someone shot at you,” Seonghwa fought, glaring without a hint of anger directed at Hongjoong. “You can’t fucking take the blame for that, Hongjoong. We knew they were going to get bolder, eventually. I just- I just need some time to figure out who the hell it was. And then I’ll-“

“So what did you mean?” Hongjoong demanded weakly, barely even able to see over the constant stream dripping from his jaw. “When you asked if this was what I wanted?”

He saw something flinch in Seonghwa’s expression, stiffening and then softening and then hardening in self-deprecation.

“They wouldn’t be shooting at you…if you weren’t with me,” Seonghwa said quietly, voice dark.

“So it’s your fault I was shot at?” Hongjoong demanded fiercely, glaring as he stood on shaking legs.

“ Yes!” Seonghwa snapped, but Hongjoong didn’t even wince, continuing to glare. “Yes- that’s what I’ve said from the very beginning! You’re in danger just by being associated with me!”

“Did you miss the entire first month we knew each other?” Hongjoong shouted, tears falling, but the beating of his heart was faster.  “We’ve had this conversation again and again, Seonghwa-“

“You don’t-“

“Stop it!” Hongjoong yelled, taking several steps forward, but stopping before actually getting to Seonghwa, glaring as Seonghwa looked silenced by the shout.

Hongjoong was shaking, but it wasn’t all from leftover adrenaline.

He was breathing heavily as he stared Seonghwa down. “You asked me if this is what I wanted,” he whispered, the sound like an angry hiss. “Well, yes, Seonghwa, it is what I fucking want,” he hissed.

“You want to constantly be in danger?” Seonghwa accused. “To be shot at in the streets-“

“I want you!” Hongjoong snapped.

“You can’t have me without being in danger!”

“Have you listened to nothing I’ve ever said?” Hongjoong shouted, fists clenching angrily. “I thought we reached an understanding- I thought we both understood-“

“Things change after someone shoots at you,” Seonghwa muttered.

“I’ve been shot at before!” Hongjoong yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This apartment has been broken into- I’ve been held at gunpoint, I’ve been threatened and grabbed- Does it look like I’m fucking leaving?”

“You should leave!” Seonghwa yelled back, expression twisting in agony. “You aren’t fucking safe here! You will never be safe with me!”

Hongjoong closed the distance between, until he and Seonghwa were standing chest to chest and Seonghwa was taking a stiff step back.

(In the back of his mind, more tears fell. Because even in the middle of the most heated argument they’d ever had, Hongjoong was not afraid of him.)

Hongjoong stared up at him, glaring with tears still dripping down his cheek pathetically.

“Tell me to leave,” he said, lips curling angrily. He saw Seonghwa’s jaw tighten. “Until you’re going to actually tell me to leave, stop saying that I should.”  

Hongjoong wanted to break down. He wanted to back away and just cry until there was nothing left.

But he didn’t.

Because Seonghwa wasn’t worth backing down and crying.

Seonghwa meant so much more than that.

“I would,” Seonghwa said quietly, staring down at him firmly, something bordering on fear in his hard eyes. “If it meant keeping you safe, I would tell you to leave.”

Hongjoong stared, expression falling a moment of shock.

Something sharp pierced his heart, and he schooled his expression as anger took back over, taking another step close to Seonghwa.

“Do you love me?” Hongjoong asked, meaning for it to come out as a demand, but all he managed was  weak hiss as Seonghwa’s expression dropped this time.

Seonghwa’s expression hardened quickly, but it was open. Vulnerable. “It’s because I love you that I can’t just let you keep being in danger.”

“Do you want to be with me?” Hongjoong demanded, voice stronger this time, less accusing as he glared.

“Hongjoong-“

“Do you want to stay with me?” Hongjoong snapped, voice breaking and eyes burning.

Seonghwa stared at him darkly for a moment, jaw tightening as his eyes shone with moisture. “Of course, I want to fucking be with you, Hongjoong,” he whispered weakly. “But the hell can I, when I know that I’m putting you in this kind of danger?” he demanded quietly.

Hongjoong felt like his skin and muscles had turned to stone.

Not the kind that froze- but the kind that hardened and defended.

“So tell me to leave,” Hongjoong muttered, glaring at Seonghwa defiantly. “Tell me to get out, to never look back… because it’s not going to fucking happen,” he hissed.

Seonghwa’s expression opened into something frightened and pleading. “Hongjoong-“

“If you love me,” Hongjoong snapped weakly, taking a step away, fists clenched, “if you want to be with me… then I’m not leaving.” He gestured around them. “Throw me out. Run away. Leave me notes that tell me to fuck off- I don’t care, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa looked like something was shattering in his chest.

“I don’t care what you do- I’m never going to walk away from this,” he hissed. “You asked if this is what I wanted- Yes, ” he hissed, sharper, firmer. “Yes, I fucking this. Because this means that I get you- I get someone who loves me. ”

Just saying the words made his voice fail, dropping off dangerously as Seonghwa winced, fists forming at his sides as he stared at Hongjoong.

“I stayed with someone who didn’t love me for years, Seonghwa,” he hissed, hitting his chest gently. “Because I was afraid. I gave up a chance to free myself and be happy because I was scared .” He shook his head slowly, standing by the bed. “I’m not giving up that happiness again. I’m not letting it go that easily- not when I finally found it.”

It wasn’t until Hongjoong paused to take a breath that the apartment fell completely silent.

In the silence, Hongjoong actually looked at Seonghwa. And he saw the tear streaks leading down his cheeks silently.

Hongjoong swallowed, stepping closer to Seonghwa once again. He didn’t step back. Not even when their chests nearly pressed together.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered, lips shaking, looking down at him with tears in his eyes. “I can’t… let you get hurt.”

Hongjoong placed a finger on Seonghwa’s chest gently. “You told me all the danger I would be in,” he whispered quietly. “And I agreed to be here. I consented to that danger, if it meant I got to be with you. I knew this for years.”

He dropped his hand from his chest, reaching forward and holding one of his fists gently, staring Seonghwa directly in the eye. “I love you so fucking much,” Hongjoong hissed, eyes burning. “So tell me to run,” he invited. “Leave, for my safety, and never look back. It won’t fucking matter, Seonghwa,” he whispered painfully.

He squeezed his fist, feeling one of Seonghwa’s tears drip onto their joined hands as his chin dropped to his chest, a quiet, shaking breath escaping as his expression warped in agony as Hongjoong brushed a gentle thumb over his shaking fist.   

“Because until the day you can tell me that you stopped loving me back… I’m never going to stop chasing after you, do you understand me, Seonghwa?” he demanded, holding his fist tightly as a cry left Seonghwa’s lips.

Hongjoong understood. Really, he did. He knew that it was terrifying, the thought of losing what they had. Of losing each other.

“Until you can tell me that you’ve stopped loving me back… I’m never going to run,” Hongjoong whispered, his other hand catching Seonghwa’s chin and lifting it slowly until their teary eyes met brokenly.

He touched Seonghwa’s cheek gently to wipe the tears, Seonghwa leaning into the touch with his eyes shut tight.

“I love you too much,” he murmured, tilting his head and kissing Hongjoong’s palm gently. “I can’t just let you be hurt, Hongjoong,” he whispered, sounding like a plea.

“Do what you need to,” Hongjoong told him quietly, staring gently. “I love you too much. I won’t just walk away.” His voice softened. “Run away, Seonghwa,” he whispered. “Cut me off, lock me out… I’m never going to stop chasing you, Seonghwa. Not while you still say you love me.”

Seonghwa continued to cry, falling silently as Hongjoong’s tears fell like an echo.

Hongjoong could almost feel the war inside of Seonghwa that battled between love and safety.

It wasn’t a war Hongjoong could help with.

Seonghwa could fight him all he liked- Hongjoong wasn’t going to give up.

Fear had controlled him for too long in his past. Fear made him stay when he should have run.

Fear would not make him run when he wanted to stay.

Seonghwa loved him enough to let him go.

Well, Hongjoong loved him enough to fight tooth and nail to keep them together.

That was a promise.

No. A fucking challenge.

~~~~~~~~~

Now

Seonghwa closed the door behind him, wincing slightly as the twist of his torso stretched the stitches in his side.

It had been nearly a week since he had been shot, and things were… good, despite it all.

They had moved past the scare (he and Yeosang had had a conversation that ended with a brief, rare hug that Yeosang made him swear to tell no one else about). Operations were back on schedule, and their mishap of that night hadn’t brought any real repercussions.

All in all… not the worst that had happened. Seonghwa barely had any aches left, aside from the stiffness of his muscles which Hongjoong took great pleasure in scolding him for not doing the stretches.

Seonghwa smiled quietly as he kicked off his shoes at the door, glancing around.

The apartment was dark, aside from the light in the kitchen. Quiet enough that Seonghwa was sure that Hongjoong had already fallen asleep at 11 PM.

But, Seonghwa paused as he caught sight of a fresh bouquet sitting on the counter.

He hadn’t received any flowers since the stupidity bouquet, and he smiled gently as he walked over, heart warming as he stood at the counter, gazing down at a dozen little buds in an ornate vase, rather than their usual glass ones.

He touched a petal gently, smiling wider as he recognized the flower shape.

Violets. But rather than a vibrant blue, they were white.

White violets…

Seonghwa took his phone out carefully, smiling at it as he performed his usual internet search.

He paused.

Let’s take a chance on happiness.

Seonghwa smiled, even as his eyes burned a bit.

They had taken a chance. A bit one. One that Seonghwa had fought for far too long, putting his efforts into pushing Hongjoong away when he should have been holding him closer, building shields around him.

Flowers always seemed to be able to say the things neither of them exactly could.

He brushed a hand over their delicate tops, taking a deep breath so that he wouldn’t actually start crying. It was probably just the last week making him a bit emotional.

Every day this week, Seonghwa had gotten up, walking to his dresser and pulling out the little black velvet box that had been sitting back there for months. He’d stare at it… and he’d imagine.

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was imagining, since really, giving Hongjoong that ring would change nothing about their situation except for their chosen jewelries. They already were husbands in everything but legality.

Honestly, Seonghwa wasn’t even sure why he bought the ring to begin with, but… He’d stared at it every day this week, and he knew he wanted to give it soon.

Somewhere special.

Let’s take a chance on happiness.

He smiled quietly, blood warming to the last molecule as he bent down, smelling them for a moment before stepping away, hand trailing over the soft petals as he walked to the bedroom.

He was surprised, when he approached, to find light peeking through under the door. Based on how quiet it was, he assumed Hongjoong had gone to bed. But maybe he just forgot to turn the light off, not meaning to fall asleep.

Oh so quietly, Seonghwa turned the handle of the door, pushing it open silently and sticking his head inside.

He was surprised to find Hongjoong, not laying in bed, but sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed and hands clasped in his lap.

Seonghwa thought for a horrifying second that something was hurting him, the door shoved open the rest of the way before he’d even breathed as he stumbled inside-

Hongjoong released a broken sob, caught on a rough cough as he curled over his lap a bit more, tears visible as they dripped off in the lamp light.

Seonghwa froze for a moment, too stunned to move for a moment before he stumbled forward again, heart wrenching.

“Hongjoong- What happened?” he demanded gently, striding across the floor. “What’s wrong? What-“

Hongjoong jumped quietly, apparently not having noticed him until he spoke.

His head whipped up, staring at Seonghwa with cheeks and eyes that were shining, expression heartbreaking and vulnerable.

Seonghwa froze, however, when he noticed the little black box sitting in Hongjoong’s clasped hands.

His lungs halted as Hongjoong looked up at him, wiping at one side of teary face, revealing even more of the box.

The velvet box that was open, showing off the little, simple silver band sitting side.

Seonghwa, strangle, felt like he had been caught with something. He froze, not even willing to twitch as Hongjoong swallowed thickly, glancing between Seonghwa and the ring slowly.

He ended with staring at the ring, his fingers shaking where they held it.

“H-How long?” Hongjoong managed, voice strong even if it shook. He bit his lip to stop it shaking, glancing back up at Seonghwa. “How long have you had this?” he whispered, expression warping with the effort to keep tears at bay.

Seonghwa felt like a sniper’s dot was on his chest.

For a moment, he couldn’t fathom how Hongjoong found it. They had no reason to go through each other’s drawers.

But then he thought back… he’d been in a rush this morning as Hongjoong stirred in his sleep, making Seonghwa rush to put the box back and close the drawer.

He wasn’t even sure he’d closed it all the way. And he certainly hadn’t taken the time to hide it beneath the clothes, as it usually was.

So, really, Seonghwa had done this to himself.

He swallowed thickly, Hongjoong staring at his with tears slowly slipping across his cheeks. “A few months,” he whispered back, voice thick. “Almost a year…”

He heard a broken laugh from Hongjoong as he looked away quickly, one hand covering his mouth as the other held the box gingerly. His hand lowered shakily, resting against his lips as he stared.

“It’s… mine?” he asked quietly, voice dying slightly.

Seonghwa couldn’t help the quiet, disbelieving scoff that escaped, tears brimming suddenly as he stared at Hongjoong holding that little ring.

“Who else?” he whispered thickly, almost laughing at himself.

He saw Hongjoong’s lips shake, his fingers pressing against it, like it might stop them. “I… I saw it when I got home,” he whispered quietly. “I was closing the drawer…” He swallowed thickly, suddenly closing the box with a little clak. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, holding the box out. “I shouldn’t have snooped.”

Seonghwa stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, wetting his lips slowly as his heart finally seemed to catch up to everything that was happening. What was actually happening, rather than what he was panicking about.  

He stepped forward slowly, as if moving through time. “I bought it… almost a year ago,” he murmured.

Hongjoong looked at him quickly before turning away, like there was something in his eyes he didn’t want Seonghwa to see, still holding out the box.

Seonghwa swallowed, taking another slow step. “There was no… special occasion,” he said quietly, staring at Hongjoong in the warm lamplight. “I was leaving one morning, and I looked back at you…”

He saw Hongjoong swallow, turning further away, as if bracing himself for something.

“And I was hit with just how much… I fucking loved you,” he whispered, voice dropping as he stood before Hongjoong. “It was a spur of a moment decision… but I went, and I bought a ring. Because I knew… I knew that one day I would want to give it to you.”

Hongjoong tensed, still not looking over.

Seonghwa took the box slowly, feeling the soft velvet in the palm of his hand. Hongjoong’s hand dropped to his lap quickly. Seonghwa stared at the box, running a gentle finger along the outside.

“I don’t know why… I didn’t just give it to you,” he murmured idly. “It’s not as if I feel any different now than I ever have. I don’t know why I hesitated.”

Hongjoong still looked away.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa whispered, closing his hand around the box tightly. “For whatever reason… it took getting shot by my own team member for me to stop hesitating.”

Hongjoong barely glanced at him, but looked away quickly, stiffening further.

“And even after I realized I needed to stop hesitating… It’s been a week after that, and I still haven’t given it to you,” Seonghwa said, laughing a bit thickly. “As always… you needed to kick my ass into gear… I’m sorry.”

Hongjoong finally looked at him, fresh tears falling and lips trembling. “Seonghwa, it’s not-“

Seonghwa knelt down beside the bed.

Hongjoong’s mouth clicked shut, eyes widened ever so slightly in what looked so close to fear. But it wasn’t.

That wasn’t what Hongjoong looked like when he was afraid.

Seonghwa stared up at him from their new distance, smiling through the tears still lingering around his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said hoarsely, holding the box in one hand as he reached out with the other, laying it on Hongjoong’s hand, covering it completely. “First, I fought you. Then, I ran from you… And now, I just keep making you wait for things I should have given you a long time ago.”

Hongjoong shook his head mutely, eyes wide as his lips parted, but no noise came out from his desperate expression.

Seonghwa squeezed his hand, more tears gathering at the thought of the item in his hand.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seonghwa whispered thickly. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for so long… I don’t know why I was hesitating. I’m sorry- if it made you think I was uncertain.”  

“No,” Hongjoong finally managed to whisper, voice weak as he kept shaking his head again and again. “No, Seonghwa, no- I never thought that. I always knew that you loved me just as much as I ever could love you-“

His voice broke off, lips pressing together as more tears welled.

Seonghwa laughed wetly, reaching up and brushing them away. “Is it so terrible?” he asked, voice shaking. “Being my real husband?”

“I’m already your real husband,” Hongjoong whispered, his breath catching as tears caught in his lashes. “I’ve always been that, Seonghwa, I don’t need a ring or a court to tell me that.”

Seonghwa laughed, which somehow only made tears gather faster, Hongjoong’s hand shaking under his.

Or was what his hand?

He drew his hand away, holding the little velvet box gingerly.

“Let’s take a chance on happiness?” he asked pointedly.

Hongjoong laughed, wet and broken through the tears, but genuine, smiling through the dampness. “I- I had this whole thing planned once I found it,” he managed weakly. “I was going to- to show you the flowers I went and grabbed, and then- then act so confident about it all.” He chuckled again, shrugging. “But then I looked at it… and I thought about what it meant… and I just couldn’t stop crying.”

Because it wasn’t about what they would become.

It was about what they already were.

What they had chosen to become.

It was about that the ring symbolized about their journey: that it had started, and that it had continued.

Like the flowers, it said the things they couldn’t articulate perfectly.

“I wanted to do it somewhere special,” Seonghwa admitted through his tight through, glancing around. “But… really, I guess there’s no place that become more special to me than here.”

“Stop,” Hongjoong whispered, voice breaking as his eyes shimmered in heartbreaking tears of joy. “I’m trying to stop crying-“

“And let me cry on my own?” Seonghwa asked, a laugh caught in his throat.

Hongjoong rolled his lips and rolled his eyes, biting back a smile.

“And look,” Seonghwa continued, another weak laugh. “I’m finally here- on my knees- and I’m still making you wait.”

Hongjoong laughed, shoving at his chest weakly. “What are you even going to ask me?” he asked pointedly. “I already agreed to be your husband.”

Seonghwa shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea,” he confessed quietly, expression open. “Maybe that’s why I was hesitating. I already had you as everything I needed in my life… I didn’t know what else I could possibly ask of you.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, scoffing weakly. “How do you head the largest gang in Seoul, but have such poor management skills?” he demanded through laughter.  

Seonghwa’s heart felt like it was going to burst open.

“Screw it,” he whispered, staring up at Hongjoong.

His skin and tears and hair all highlighted and glowing from the warm light of the lamp, making him seem like some sort of painting, frozen in time as a beautiful art.

“Hongjoong,” he whispered, watching the way his lips pressed together. “Do you want this ring?” he asked, opening the little box slowly, holding it out. “It’s… not much, honestly. And it certainly isn’t enough to give you in return for everything you put up with… and for everything I’ve put you through… but I’ve already given you my home, my life, and my heart… so this is really the only thing I have left to offer you…”

He held it out the box brushed Hongjoong’s fingertips.

“If you want the last thing I possibly have to offer you… it’s yours. The same as everything else I have is yours.”

Seonghwa had been staring at the ring, watching the way Hongjoong’s fingers slowly curled in, tight and almost protective.

Because of this distraction, he was taken completely off guard as Hongjoong launched himself off the bed.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, the box falling from his grip as he caught Hongjoong around the waist, shifting back until he sat on his heels, Hongjoong straddling his lap and slamming their lips together.

Seonghwa made a noise caught between a moan and a slight gasp of discomfort as his side shifted.

He shoved everything but Hongjoong from his mind, though, dragging him forward by his hips and rising up to meet him, breath for breath-

“You- fucking- idiot,” Hongjoong panted between kisses, voice rough and skin wet each time they met.

Seonghwa might have laughed if he wasn’t busy holding back tears of absolute disbelief at his lot in life.

Hongjoong kissed him deep, delicate hands holding his face in place, as if Seonghwa would ever try and escape to anywhere else but here.

“I had, like, three things before I ever met you,” Hongjoong breathed, pulling away enough to speak, swallowing thickly, eyes dancing. “If you think you’ve already given me everything, how the hell do you think I feel?” he demanded quietly.

Seonghwa chuckled, hands holding Hongjoong’s hip firmly. “You always have to make thing complicated,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to Hongjoong’s neck. “All I needed was a ‘yes.’”

He heard Hongjoong sigh in exasperation, though his head tilted back in invitation, so Seonghwa trailed gentle kisses across his jaw and neck, ending at the curve of his shoulder and dragging his teeth across it gently.

Hongjoong shivered, hands suddenly gripping Seonghwa tightly.

“You… You know… that I never thought I would get this,” Hongjoong whispered, not shifting in Seonghwa’s grip.

This. Meaning happiness.

Because of that man.

Seonghwa closed his eyes, taking a slow breath. “I know.”

“And you know that… you have literally given me everything?”

“No,” Seonghwa murmured against his skin, kissing it again. “You gave yourself everything. I was just along for the ride.”

“Can you let me say my dramatic shit?” Hongjoong demanded, laughing and crying and weak and strong.

“Sorry.”

“You literally gave me everything,” Hongjoong said quietly. “You gave me the safety I needed to be able to find those things for myself. You gave me a safe space for me to discover myself again… And that means everything, Seonghwa.”

He leaned back, hand groping until he sat back up, holding the little black box between them, eyes shining.

“Maybe a ring doesn’t make up for all the shit we went through,” Hongjoong whispered, pressing it into Seonghwa’s hand. “But everything else you’ve given me sure as hell does.”

Seonghwa stared at the box pressed between their two hands.

He took Hongjoong’s hand slowly, pressing a warm kiss to the curve of his palm, then his wrist, resting his lips there for a moment, heart full to bursting as he closed his eyes.

“I love you so much,” Seonghwa murmured against his skin. “But I still only needed a ‘yes.’”

Seonghwa was prepared this time and dodge the fist that Hongjoong tried to bring down on his head, sitting up fully and shifting forward until Hongjoong’s back was pressed against the side of the bed, holding him there as he kissed him- warm and deep and smooth as Hongjoong made a high noise in the back of his throat.

Seonghwa pulled away quickly, just barely a hair’s width apart. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you, Hongjoong,” he murmured quietly. “And I’m not going to regret a single moment of it.”

“Good,” Hongjoong whispered, breathless and flushed, staring up at him. “It would be awkward if only one of us planned on doing that.”

Seonghwa laughed, kissing him again, arms wrapping around them-

Hongjoong pulled away, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth gently. “Yes,” he breathed. “There. Now will you stop putting it off?”

Seonghwa smiled quietly, eyes closed, basking for a moment. “Your aim still sucks.”

Hongjoong slapped him upside the head barely enough to even sting, and Seonghwa laughed, grabbing the offending hand and kissing the back of it.

Oh, it was the left hand. How convenient.

He flipped the box open with one hand, still holding Hongjoong gently as he set the box down, picking up the little silver band and holding it up.

“You said, one time-“

“Still hesitating?” Hongjoong teased, accepting the scolding smack on his hand with grace as Seonghwa glared.

“You said… one time… that you would keep chasing me as long as I kept loving you back…”

Seonghwa remembered that day.

The first time Hongjoong had truly come seconds away from being taken from him.

The first time Seonghwa realized just what it might mean to be too slow while he proclaimed to protect Hongjoong.

Hongjoong had verbally slapped Seonghwa across the face, and Seonghwa was still idiotic enough to try running.

And as promised… Hongjoong kept chasing. Relentlessly.

He swallowed thickly, taking Hongjoong’s ring finger. “Consider this my promise that you’re going to have to spend the rest of your life chasing me… because I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

The little ring slipped on easily, Hongjoong’s fingers immediately curling closed, as if someone might try to snatch it off.

He pulled his hand close, staring at the little ring, swallowing thickly as his eyes shone. “Does this mean… I have to get you one, too?”

“Up to you,” Seonghwa said, shrugging gently. “You could probably just make me one out of floral wire.”

Hongjoong gave him an unimpressed look that quickly melted into one of pure adoration, throwing his arms around Seonghwa neck and kissing him hard.

Seonghwa caught him easily, holding on tight as he pressed forward, the warmth of bodies blending as Hongjoong threaded his fingers through Seonghwa’s hair.

(Seonghwa knew how much he loved to mess it up.)

Seonghwa picked them up easily (Hongjoong was not a heavy person by any stretch or meaning of the word), laying him down on the bed and barely breaking the kiss for a moment before descending again, tilting his head to deepen it and listening to all the beautiful sounds Hongjoong made when their tongues met.

Sometimes… Seonghwa thought about all the things Hongjoong had mentioned growing afraid of.

I’m not going to be very enthusiastic when I kiss you, probably.

Don’t kiss or touch my neck or stomach too much.

I don’t like being held- especially by my hair.

I don’t like fighting back, if we’re arguing. I’ll probably wait until later to say anything.

Just don’t be surprised if I… sort of dodge you.

And he watched in beautiful, shocked surprise as Hongjoong slowly… slowly overcame those fears, little by little, until they were nothing but a distant bad taste in his mouth that he remembered the flavor of.

You gave me the one thing he never did- not even when things were good between us. You gave me the right and the ability to be afraid… and walk away unharmed. You let me learn to trust you, even when I was afraid.

  There was nothing more beautiful… than seeing the person you loved so much… be free to love themselves.

Seonghwa kissed him.

Hongjoong kissed him back.

For what seemed like hours, they kissed- jumping between languid and heated, between lazy and intense.

Seonghwa’s heart leapt every time he felt the warmed metal of the ring brush against his skin as Hongjoong touched him.

It felt like getting a weight off his chest, no matter how light.

The kiss eventually turned languid- Seonghwa having one arm and one leg over Hongjoong, holding him close enough to press small, deep pecks to his lips, feeling the ring on his finger brush against Seonghwa’s neck that his hand rested on.

The hour of night and dim lighting eventually got to them, finally resting with their foreheads together, chests rising and falling deeply against each other.

Hongjoong whined, but managed to roll over and switch off the lamp, immediately slipping back into Seonghwa’s arms, head tucked beneath his chin.

Hongjoong had confessed, over and over again, that Seonghwa had become his safe place. A place that no matter what was going on, he would feel safe- tucked away like a little fortified castle.

Seonghwa held him tightly, as if there were some threat lingering in the shadows, but his heart was quiet and peaceful.

“I love you,” Hongjoong murmured against his chest, a hand pressing over Seonghwa’s heart that was beating a bit faster than normal.

Seonghwa smiled quietly into Hongjoong’s hair. “Are you staring at your ring?” he asked quietly.

Hongjoong’s hand on his chest curled into a loose fist. “Well, I can’t see very well in the dark, can I?” He huffed. “But yes, I am looking at it.”

He chuckled, kissing his neck gently. “I love you,” he murmured, smiling. “I know you think about all the things I gave you… but you gave me so much back, Hongjoong. More than just love or company.”

Hongjoong curled up more, kissing Seonghwa’s shoulder. “No regrets,” he whispered. “For the rest of our lives… no regrets,” he bargained.

“No regrets,” Seonghwa assured him, voice a bit thick. “Even if things go completely in a direction I never planned… I can’t regret it, after everything we went through.”

Hongjoong hummed tiredly, nodding slowly.

Seonghwa knew this didn’t change anything.

Hongjoong was still in danger, Seonghwa was still going to be risking his life, and the world was still going to be against them.

But they made it nearly four years, didn’t they? They just had to keep repeating what they did these four years for the rest of their lives. Not that hard.

Seonghwa couldn’t help the smile on his lips.

Let’s take a chance on happiness.

It wasn’t a chance.

It was a method and routine- tried and tested and survived.

It wasn’t a chance. It was reality. Right here and now. With Hongjoong in his arms, and an adventure of a lifetime waiting for them.

Seonghwa pressed a final, tired kiss to Hongjoong’s temple. “My asparagus,” he murmured, barely containing the warmth in his chest.

Hongjoong chuckled, the two of them falling silent, Seonghwa’s eyes closing peacefully, a smile still on his face as peace finally settled on him. Real peace.

A hopeful peace.

Together… with Hongjoong.

“… Is now a bad time to say that the ring is a little too big?” Hongjoong whispered.

Seonghwa was silent.

And then he kissed him, full and warm and deep as Hongjoong smiled-

That beautiful, beautiful smile.

“You’ll grow into it,” Seonghwa whispered against his lips, grinning. “Unless you’ve actually have stopped growing.”

Hongjoong smacked him in the neck, which made Seonghwa whine at the behavior and try to kiss Hongjoong again.

Hongjoong dodge, shoving Seonghwa down until he was braced against his shoulder, hovering above him and glaring down, looking ready to go on a rant that would last until sunrise.  

It would have been too easy to flip them, but Seonghwa smiled serenely as Hongjoong glared at him, struggling to keep up his annoyance.

Swiftly, Seonghwa pressed a gentle finger into the crook of Hongjoong’s elbow, making him buckle with a yelp-

He kissed him again, holding him tight and warm as Hongjoong made a frustrated noise that melted into a moan as he grabbed the front of Seonghwa’s shirt tightly.

So much for peace.

But even if peace was a hard fly to catch, happiness was quite easy to grab.

And even in the time they couldn’t hold onto it completely… like a guest with a scent, it lingered, even after it had gone away.

To Seonghwa, it smelled like flowers and metal and strawberry shampoo.

Seonghwa had a long list of reasons to be happy.

And it was exactly as long as everything that Hong joong was.

To Seonghwa, happiness was knowing that even if there was no smile right now… a smile would come again.

And with any luck… he might be lucky enough to be the cause of it.