Chapter Text
“Park Seojin, 32 years old, works at Dragon Motors…ahh…is that how you know him?” Junho mutters to himself from the driver's seat of his car as he stares down a man entering the club he’s parked across the street from.
He glances back down at his phone screen that he read the information to himself from, verifying that the staff photo from the business page matches the face he sees in front of him— slicking his grease-laden hair back and trading pleasantries with the bouncer and other guests. Junho could tell he would not fit in with the others very well right away, as they all appeared very affluent and uptight.
Seojin himself was listed as head of the engineering team— so Junho had to think of some way to make himself appear at least on par with that. He at least remembered to come dressed in a suit and tie, so— check that off the list.
Junho looked through his glove compartment to find the fake Dragon Motors employee ID he rendered to make himself appear as an employee in case he needed it. He didn’t think he would— Gihun doesn’t even work there, and this event isn’t restricted to employees— but he figured if he needed to fall back on it, at least he had it. In fact, he didn’t even know how Gihun got here— but the tracker Junho stuck to the inside of Gihun’s everyday baseball hat led him here. When Junho got an alert that the tracker was traveling outside of Ssangmundong, he had no choice but to investigate.
Junho knew Gihun had been talking about the company considering revising their policies and potentially rehiring their blacklisted employees who striked— but something was suspicious from the start when Junho heard from Gihun how they wanted to have a gathering about it instead of an official board meeting or some kind of presentation. Junho remembers Gihun’s sucked cheeks and surrendered expression as he shrugged and blatantly excused it with, “Well, everyone who wants to work at a motor company now is most likely your age, Junho. They're all partying. This is probably the most effective way to get their attention anyways.”
Junho clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at the memory, the words making his temple throb with frustration at the disbelief that a man thirty years older than him can be more stubborn than himself. “Idiot, now I have to make sure you don’t get killed.” Junho whispers to himself in annoyance under his breath, grabbing his fake ID, his wallet, and a pocket knife. He’s been watching every person go in the club— seeing some of the bulkier men get patted down while the women easily get dismissed. Junho knows better than to try his luck, so he shoves the knife in his boxers— letting the folded knife sit very uncomfortably next to his dick.
Better this way than getting caught. Ow!
Each step as Junho steps out of the car makes him wince as the shell of the knife— not the blade— scrapes against his thigh and his more sensitive skin. He folds his wallet in his hand and then shoves it in his pocket— using it as an excuse to adjust the position of the knife away from his body. All he has to do is pretend he doesn’t have a knife in his pants and that he’s very happy to be here. Maybe not too happy though— he could be accused of being intoxicated.
Junho makes careful, deliberate strides across the street while being cautious of passing vehicles— stumbling slightly as if learning how to walk again. His baseball cap hides his face well, nearly making him nothing but another walking entity that no one else meandering on the street notices or acknowledges. The line leading out of the club is long, crowded, and loud. There are boisterous drunk idiots right on time at one in the morning. Junho looks down at his phone to check Gihun’s tracker again. They’re not that far apart now that he’s only a few feet away from the entrance to the club.
Gihun, what are you doing out this late? Don’t people your age usually sleep at this hour?
Junho steps forward into the line, forged ID in his slightly trembling hand as he slips through people in the line without a word. No one notices that he’s cut through them— he’s getting too good at being a shadow in the night. While everyone’s unaware that he has slinked between them and dodged their line of sight, Junho makes it to the front in minutes— and is faced with the bouncer. He looks big and tough— as a bouncer does— even complete with the muscle and neck tattoos. But upon greeting Junho, he acts much nicer than he looks.
“Hey there! Got anything on you that’s dangerous?” He asks Junho, beckoning him forward. Junho steps forward before answering the question— letting go of his wallet slowly and letting the knife in his boxers fall just slightly in the pocket under where his balls rest. Facing the wall, Junho grimaces as the edges of the knife’s shell nick him again.
“No, sir.” Junho answers quickly, before the pain answers for him.
The bouncer pats him for a short few seconds, although it feels like a year for Junho. He pats down his sides, his pockets and back pockets, and his legs very lazily before staring at him and decidedly stating, “Eh, you seem fine. Have fun.”
Fuck! That was it?
Junho smiles politely and nods, masking his contradiction of frustration and relief with a small bow of thanks before walking into the building. The entrance already submerges him in an overwhelming tide of clamoring, drunk, rich people dancing and socializing— and waves of shrill club music that only people with money to blow on designer would enjoy for fun.
Bathroom.
Junho looked around for the nearest men’s bathroom— desperate for a moment of privacy to get this fucking knife off of his dick. At this point he should’ve just shoved it in his pocket— it’s not like the bouncer would’ve found it, probably. He peers over the ocean of people and sees that the men's bathroom is to his right. Shoving his hands back in his pockets to hold on to his wallet and reposition the knife, he shuffles through the crowd to get to the bathroom— simultaneously looking out into it for Gihun…and Seojin.
Halfway across the floor he gets a better view of the bar— fifteen feet away from him to his left. Faced away from him is Gihun, sitting at a bar stool and hunched over a martini in a cocktail glass, garnished with a small slice of lemon.
A martini? Gihun, who bought you that? You never drink anything that isn’t straight from a bottle…
Junho looks closer— no longer paying any attention to the discomfort between his legs. Number one rule of being safe in public, especially at clubs— always be aware of your surroundings. Junho watches Gihun a little longer, and everyone around him as well. Some people stumble and fall over themselves in drunken stupor, others are flirtatious and jovial with each other as they dance together— but in general, everyone seems to be having a good time. Except for Gihun. He’s alone.
Why would you come to an event like this to sit alone? I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you do the things you do, Gihun. Yet I love you anyway.
Junho is almost satisfied with sitting in his feelings for Gihun, until a partygoer shoves into him and distracts his train of thought— simultaneously forcing his line of view to shift a few degrees. Some of the people at the bar dissipated in Junho’s view and suddenly, Gihun wasn’t alone. A man was with him. Slicked back hair, pleasant smile…
Seojin.
The thought of his face made Junho’s teeth start to grit, his nails digging into his palms. A glint of controlled chaos flickered in his eyes as he briefly fantasized about making Seojin bite the curb and bashing in his skull until he was unrecognizable, like killing a cockroach— repeatedly. Although it wouldn’t be the first time he’s killed someone with blunt force, he wonders if it’s too extreme— if he’s actually going too far, and that maybe he should go home and let Gihun learn his own lessons about shitty corporate men.
It was almost tempting to turn around and let Gihun have his way— let him think he was right and that Junho’s instinct had actually failed him for once. Junho never feels any shame in admitting he’s wrong, and never enjoys getting into arguments with Gihun about anything either. But he’s also never wrong either, and he knows this to be true himself.
Gihun could think he was right all he wanted— he’s thirty years older, it’s common for men his age to be more secure in their own beliefs (a.k.a, stubborn—) but wherever Gihun thinks he is, Junho will always be ten steps ahead. Junho will always hold that information in the back of his mind too— because if it isn’t actively helping him keep Gihun safe, it’s giving him wonderful fuel for his imagination when he’s horny and can’t touch Gihun.
Speaking of touching— OW!
Another partygoer shoves into Junho— this time cussing at him drunkenly for existing in the same space as him. “Watch where you’re standing, fag!” Junho hears, the slur sounding more clearly enunciated than the rest of the inebriated man’s drunken words.
“Hey! It’s the twenty-first century, knock it off!” Junho yells back for his own amusement after the man had already gone, not taking his eyes away from Gihun nor moving his face. He knows between the moving lights and the man’s state that he’s too fucked to notice what he said.
One thing Junho doesn’t do however— especially when it comes to Gihun— is stay oblivious.
He watches Seojin get inches closer and closer to Gihun, watching his facial expressions and physical gestures predatorily. His eyes narrow and his vision focuses on the suave touches on Gihun’s hand and wrist— the polite, one-sided, flirty smiles— and the romantic gesture of Seojin tucking Gihun’s hair behind his ear that made Junho’s stomach twist in knots where he stood. He had half a mind to stab Seojin right there on the bar and fuck Gihun stupid right next to his bleeding body— and remind him how much more romantic he is.
That’s what criminally insane people would do, though. I’m not insane. I just want you safe.
But then he sees Seojin pinch his fingers just an inch above the rim of Gihun’s drink while Gihun looks away, and when the drink starts to fizz— that confirms it for him. That confirms for Junho that Seojin will not leave this area alive.
I knew you’d fucking do that.
Park Seojin had been confirmed by Junho to be a “yes man” to the CEO of Dragon Motors. Junho could tell this man was a people pleaser from the info he dug up— social media posts, academic achievements, career advancements in the company— all of those things centered around him and the people around him. Every photo and message he had had someone else’s name and face tied with his. It’s like he can’t just have his own success, so when Junho found out that Seojin’s boss told him to “eliminate the competition” by deterring the past employees from reapplying— Junho knew he had to keep an eye on Seojin specifically tonight. Especially when Junho watched Seojin deal a dime bag of crystal, off-white powder with a suspicious someone just an hour before coming here— right behind the building, in fact.
Whatever you put in there, you’ll have to wait a moment for it to take effect. Which means any second now, you and I will be meeting here in the bathroom. Can’t wait to see your ugly face up close.
Junho watches a little longer as Gihun takes a sip from the drink— shocked that he’s unaware that it has taken on a different form than before. He can’t hear anything they’re saying from the distance he’s at but from context clues and visual cues, he can see Seojin excusing himself and holding Gihun’s hand with grace before letting go and walking away.
When Junho confirms to himself that Seojin is walking towards the bathrooms, he turns around to go in the same direction— tightening the cap on his head a little more for good luck.