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:
- You fight for each other.
- You kill for each other.
- 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.