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Zhang Hao can’t love. By saying that, one might be under the impression that he physically could not. That he was incapable of the feeling. But if Zhang Hao lived by one motto, it was that love and war do not mix well together.
His life was a battleground; anyone he cherished would be caught in the crossfire of it all. He has held his life motto close to his vacant heart ever since the day he and his younger brother got onto a ferry and swore to never talk about their ‘past life’ again.
If he had been wiser and older than the age of 19, maybe Zhang Hao wouldn’t have come to the title of assassin as willingly as he did. But after four years of living in bloodshed, he has found that thinking about the hypotheticals of life will get you nowhere.
This rings especially true if you are the sentimental type of killer, the kind that lets your own thoughts eat you up before you slice a man up for some other devil to eat whole. They never seemed to enjoy the monologues, the theatrics that came with the job. Zhang Hao enjoyed that part and hated the rest.
So while he understood the concept of emotions and displayed them as much as any other person deluding themself into thinking they were normal, he could not let them coincide with his life outside of the job. Love was the easiest to rip up to nothingness.
He let love for his younger brother fuel him and was content on keeping that as the only love he accepted. Anything else was a fluke, a trick in the matrix. No tangling of bodies could be added to create a love concoction spelling out anything but ‘bad decision’ in red Sharpie. It could only be akin to a Magic 8 ball whose definitive answer to everything was ‘outlook not so good.’
The closest Zhang Hao has ever been to a naked body is a dead one. And it wasn’t by choice, particularly, that the body was naked when he sliced into it. But it was simply easier to lull a man into the pretense of erotic sex before he killed them than anything else. It made the job easier when they lusted so greedily Zhang Hao could only chop it up to being something they condemned in the Bible.
The sight of dead bodies is never anything pretty, and the cleanup he has to do in the aftermath is no better. His wig looks… well, like a wig by the time he’s put up his fight, and the black dress he dons has blood smeared over the only parts of it that are white. Who knows how he managed that one.
He discards everything in a way that can only be described as perfectly discreet, lets his boss know that the job has been done, and then he is off to be a normal music teacher with a terribly mundane life that totally isn’t thinking about the most efficient way to slice the neck of a certain coworker that boasts about their husband too much.
He’s quite certain that he’ll never have a husband, that no man could love him willingly and unconditionally, as it was impossible for him as a man living as a woman in order to conceal his assassin identity.
By day he is Jang Haneul, a quiet yet normal woman that never gets in anyone’s way. He’s this same woman when he is killing men that deserve it. But when he goes home at night he is Sky, a foreign man known to few as Orca’s—the club he frequents—biggest heartbreaker. It is only in the night that he can let everything go, be himself for a chance, and let every worry evaporate.
People only love him when he’s grinding down on them, hair slicked back and face all dolled up with makeup. It’s the same way he looks when he’s carving devilish emblems into men’s skin. After so many years he has become a man of many faces, and yet they are all him at the end of the day. Just him. He doesn’t like that thought when it creeps up on him.
Being at Orca never leads to anything more than some drunk flirting before getting bored and stumbling his way back to the apartment. He’s always known that there’s no way to keep a romantic relationship with the way he’s living, and he accepted that fact years ago. It’s why he’s still a virgin, why he’s never going to let himself get caught up in something that will have its end before time to prosper into something great. Something that will make him unable to give up.
He makes the first grave mistake in his life not in the middle of killing a man, or even failing to kill one. It is made when he comes into contact with the most beautiful man he’s laid eyes on in years, when he strolls over to him and allows himself the euphoria to explore more than what the man’s mouth tastes like.
The strobe lights on the ceiling refuse to let him see this man’s beauty for what it truly is, but he does look gorgeous under the purple and blue lighting. There in the middle of the dance floor is just them, or at least it feels that way, as they slow dance to some dubstep that doesn’t permit slow dancing in any form or fashion. They don’t care, however; to them they are far away from the rowdy club, off in a ballroom or maybe an open field full of sunflowers. They are performing a waltz that is only for them to understand.
Zhang Hao leans his head on the man’s shoulder, sighing as warm hands fit around his thin waist like a glove. Someone in charge of DJing must’ve seen the two in their own little element, because the song turns to a love song he only remembers half the lyrics to. The man begins to softly sing them and Zhang Hao removes his head from his shoulder to gaze into his eyes.
“This is my favorite song,” the man chuckles out. Zhang Hao can’t quite see them, but he is sure the man’s ears are as tinted pink as his cheeks are. It’s a lovely sight regardless of how drunk he is.
He kisses his cheek then, because he can and because he wants to. He never finds himself being able to do the things he really wants and allows himself this chaste kiss. The man is staring so deep into his eyes he would believe it if he was completely sober. Only the slight stumbles when they are dancing tells him otherwise.
“Would it be alright if I kissed you?” The man is asking it so seriously Zhang Hao wants to laugh. But he can only profusely nod his head and tightly shut his eyes as he waits for the contact.
It comes a few seconds later, the lips of the first man he has ever truly wanted. He’s kissed probably a hundred men in his time of being an assassin, but this is the first that a gentle touch of the lips has made him feel something.
He opens his mouth and lets the man in, clinging to the backs of his shoulders for dear life as they find themselves going back, back, back until they are on a chair somewhere far off from everyone else and Zhang Hao is crawling onto the man’s lap.
The man’s still softly humming as his hands run underneath the silky shirt Zhang Hao’s wearing, rubbing his waist and trailing up to his nipples. He shivers when they come into contact with them, a light touch that could hardly be detected as anything but an accident. But then his finger squeezes, and Zhang Hao lets out a strangled moan as his hips dig deeper into the man’s thighs.
He’s near on riding him fully clothed, the harsh sting of their fully clothed dicks aching as they slotted together messily, Zhang Hao’s hips working like they’ve been doing this for years. Fact of the matter, it is the first time that he’s done this. He’s imagined it a million times though, substituting a rough pillow for sturdy thighs as he fucks himself through unsatisfying orgasms.
Now, he could probably come just from this. From the way the man is looking at him, dazed yet trying so hard to focus on Zhang Hao’s movement as his hands go wild feeling him up. They reach his neck, slowly but surely closing in on him. He finds that he doesn’t mind the pressure.
“Are you okay with this?” The man questions. Zhang Hao whispers a yes, unable to say anything else without babbling out a string of moans at the stimulation. He knows multiple ways to move his hands to make a man asphyxiate, and yet he’s never been the one on the other end. He didn’t even think he’d enjoy hands being rough like this when they were only focused on his pleasure and not the pain.
The man never goes too far, kissing his neck after the squeezing permits a bruise. He’ll have to wear turtlenecks to work all week, but he doesn’t scold him for it.
Zhang Hao whines into another kiss, knowing he’s not too far off from finishing. He’s unable to understand why he’s so into this when he’s never shown signs of it before. But then he has to remind himself that he’s never let himself enjoy the luxury of exploring someone’s body like this, because he’s long known that he’ll get addicted to it.
Addicted to the way this man’s hands are hot to the touch, almost like he has a fever when he looks completely fine apart from being completely debauched when Zhang Hao gets on his knees for him.
It’s probably not a good idea to be sucking a man off for the first time in public like this, but they’re too far away and it’s too dark in the little corner for anyone to really see what they’re doing. It’s much better than the dirty bathrooms, anyway.
“This is my first time doing anything like this,” he whispers as he kisses a spot on the man’s thigh after he zips his pants down. He kisses his leaking erection through the underwear, obsessed with the way the man squirms to his touch.
“Mine too,” the man replies. His voice is light, a perfectly soft type of voice for a man with a highly esteemed career. Nothing like the sort to Zhang Hao’s profession, one that has tarnished him from years of living on the edge, escaping his home country and living a false identity.
He’s never felt more alive than now, never known himself until this moment, when he’s taking the man’s length in his mouth and tears are streaming down his face.
The man, through gasps and whines that send shivers down Zhang Hao’s spine, wipes the tears off his face, smiling at how smudged his makeup begins to look. He’s rubbing circles along the mole underneath Zhang Hao’s eye. It’s completely red from him sinking his fingers into it, but Zhang Hao loves it even more knowing that it is the only way it keeps him from going absolutely insane to his touch.
It’s not long before he’s pulling off, meeting the man’s thrusts that come out in waves like the man’s performing a sonata only Zhang Hao would recognize. His mouth is sore from the inexperience and he can hardly let out a word when the man’s hands wrap around his dick, ready to give everything back and more.
“Do you want me to choke you again?” He asks in the sweetest voice Zhang Hao has ever heard. The juxtaposition drives him fucking insane.
Who the fuck asks for consent like that in the middle of sex? And, why was he asking it so sweetly when he knew Zhang Hao wouldn’t want anything more as he fucks into his fist?
“Yes. Please.” It’s only then when he realizes he’s gone too far, that he’s addicted to this, that he won’t be able to stay away from it.
He nearly blacks out when the man begins to choke him, and he normally would’ve been in fight or flight mode at this point. But the man is so pretty in the dim light, choking him while kissing and biting all his sweet spots he’s never even known he has after he lets up and lets Zhang Hao ride out the rest of his orgasm. It leaves him thinking that he’d be okay dying like this. It’d be what he deserves.
He is not dead when his head is no longer in the clouds, but a panting mess leaning his head on the man’s chest.
“That was.. seriously the first time I’ve done something like this.” His voice is hoarse, makeup clearly a mess from the way the man was handling him combined by his tears leaking like a faucet.
But the man is smiling so brightly at him, caressing his cheek, that he doesn’t care about how fucked out he must look. How insane he must be to be this fucking crazy for a first time.
“Would you believe me if I said I’m the same?” The man giggles. He fucking giggles. It’s so sweet that Zhang Hao’s brain goes to mush as he leans into his chest, hiding his face and praying that his reddened ears go unnoticed.
“God, that was so,” he mumbles into his chest, unable to find the words to finish his sentence.
“Good?” The man is asking, but he looks so hopeful. Like he’s praying Zhang Hao feels the same way as him.
“Good. Yeah.” And he’s smiling a downwards smile with his apple cheeks, completely real and completely terrifying in the way that this is the first time he’s smiled truthfully at a stranger in years.
He doesn’t want him to be a stranger, and that is another terrifying realization next to the many he’s already had that night.
“What’s your name?” He asks once he’s accepted the fact that he wants more than one night.
He knows he can’t give it—whatever this man’s soft smile is looking for—but he can’t bring himself to say no once he has his name.
“Sung Hanbin,” the man is whispering against his neck, and it’s the nicest sounding name he’s ever heard.
He’s calling that name for the rest of his night. Shamefully before he goes to sleep, and then in his dreams.
He prays to a god he’s unsure exists that he’ll meet his Sung Hanbin again. And when he does, he’ll just have to pray it won’t be with a knife to his neck.
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Sung Hanbin has loved all his life. Loved his mom, his dad, his younger sister; the many dogs he's raised after he found them alone on the street; the friends from college and dance class he holds close to his heart.
His heart is so full of love for others that will never love him as much. He is cursed with this love, love that eats him up inside. It is too much for most people to handle.
It's why he's never kept relationships for too long. It's why he's in a club having a one-night stand with the most beautiful man he's ever met, because he knows his love would be too suffocating for more than one night.
So he lets this beautiful stranger that has bewitched him in on a little secret. That it's his first time doing anything like this, sex and all. Not like they go all the way. He would've liked that, he thinks, but he wouldn't want his own inexperience to fuck up what they had going on.
He never catches his name nor a number. The stranger moans his name against his skin, where the sun and star and moon meets at his chest. It hasn't been long since he's got the tattoo, ointment days already over but the redness not fully receded. It's so tender that he's tightening the grip of his hands in the man's hair.
"Your tattoo's beautiful. It has everything but the sky in it."
"The sky?" He asks dumbly like he has no idea what the sky is or why it would be related to his tattoo.
The man laughs softly. It's hearty, in a way that has his heart softening because it sounds like home. "My name means sky. It's like I'm hiding away from you. You can't be seen unless I'm invisible." The man is rambling at this point, and it's the first time Hanbin's considered that he's probably intoxicated.
Hanbin, on the other hand, has had not a sip of alcohol. He's simply intoxicated by the taste the man leaves in his mouth, how he tastes his body like it's the only thing that could ever quench his otherwise insatiable thirst.
"Sky," Hanbin ponders. Hanbin can tell in every way the man enunciates that he's not Korean. What ethnicity he is will be found out another day. If there's another day they can have.
"I don't think you'll give me your name, so I'll give you one myself. Neul." And then he is whispering it against his skin, where he bites and sucks and licks until he's had enough.
But it will never be enough. And he knows in his gaze that this stranger understands that, that he is experiencing the same twinge of obsession for the first time.
They are forcing each other into the same orbit. He thinks, if this man lets him, that he could build a whole solar system for him. The first constellation would be between the moles on his face.
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Neul, Neul, Neul.
The whispering of a name that isn't truly his would typically annoy him. Get him so angry he was seeing red. Not at anyone else, but solely himself for choosing the name.
Why would anyone in hiding give themself a name with the same meaning as the one they locked away, never to be said again like it was a curse and not a treasure that needed hidden?
But the way Hanbin, his Sung Hanbin, is saying it, he doesn't mind at all. It's why he's allowed them a second night together, why he's determined to keep that promise until the sun is rising and he gets to feel the rise and fall of a chest beside him, tangled legs underneath the sheets.
But he's getting too far ahead of himself—there's no way he's sober enough to make it back home. Hanbin is hardly better, so his car is abandoned at the parking lot for a taxi. They're so close to one another Zhang Hao would feel suffocated if Hanbin wasn't so warm.
"Do they call you Haneul?" Hanbin asks when they're situated in the taxi and Zhang Hao has given the man driving his address. He knows deep down that it is selfish—wanting to let another human into his bubble. He should let Hanbin give his address, take him to his residence that is probably a bit more lively and a lot less deadly.
But there is a desire so deep in Zhang Hao's bones to see Hanbin, entirely vulnerable, on his bed. To feign an illusion of what a life they could possibly lead together would look like.
There is no possibility, he's always known this. But he can't stop himself from wanting it more than anything in the world, to have someone (but specifically this someone the longer he's in his proximity) to share his world of darkness with. To let the light in, to keep him from succumbing to a world he won't be able to come back from.
Maybe he's too far gone to start wanting it now. Maybe Hanbin won't be able to save him. He finds himself not caring as long as he's in his arms now, in the moment. He can care about the implications of letting the flame burn a little less bright when the night is over.
They're stumbling into his apartment, Hanbin holding onto him and Zhang Hao holding onto the doorframe he begins to push Hanbin onto.
"They call me Haneul," he finally answers the question Hanbin had asked him several minutes before once he's done admiring the work he's done on his neck. He's admired clean cuts, but had never given hickeys like this. "But we both know that is not my name."
And Hanbin is smiling, so sweetly but so lustful than Zhang Hao will go crazy if they don't do something more than this.
The night is still young, and he's not incredibly sober to yell at himself for letting Hanbin, who is by every definition still a stranger, into his apartment full of boobytraps and torture methods. If he does as much as turn a door knob a certain angle it could be treacherous. But it's the life that Zhang Hao has to lead, for his and Ricky's sake.
Ricky is not home, he knew that from the texts he had gotten hours ago saying that he'd be staying with Gyuvin, one of his few friends from school. The boy's lived a sheltered life ever since their immigration to Korea, but Zhang Hao would never deny him the gift of education. He wouldn't let him rot for years in their small apartment, even if safety is all but guaranteed.
Some things just have to be sacrificed. His own education is one of them; he was the top of CSAT scores in Fujian, but he had to throw that away when the debt his family got into had him signing his life and identity away, moving with his younger brother and learning a language in a country that was completely foreign to him until he stepped onto its soil.
His parents are dead, probably, but there'd be no way for them to find him when Zhang Hao and Zhang Quanrui were dead to the world at the ages of 19 and 14.
Zhang Hao and Quanrui had become Jang Haneul and Jang Ricky, two Taiwanese-Korean teenagers who were stepping into Korea for the first time when they got there.
It's been 4 years. Quanrui is adapting well, Zhang Hao not as much. It may be because his hands went from playing violin to playing with knives.
"Please fuck me," he's whining once they plop down onto the couch in the tiny living room. It's hardly big enough for the both of them, but he makes do by sliding onto Hanbin's lap.
"Do you have..." Hanbin trails off, his ears red as Zhang Hao grinds down onto him. There's a roaring in his ear that he can't quite handle, to the point that Hanbin has to ask it multiple times for Zhang Hao to comprehend it.
Ah, that. He does. Having lube and condoms is very useful for someone who has multiple honeytraps a month. Not that he's ever fully gone the way with any of them, but he doesn't have to admit to that, does he?
"Stay here. Please." Zhang Hao's tone is dripping in desperation when he is pleading for Hanbin to not get up, to not disturb any of the mechanisms he hasn't yet disabled while he reaches in the drawer of his bedroom to get the lube. Condoms can do for another night of all he cares; he just doesn't want his first time to hurt.
He's not sure why he's believing Hanbin's character so easily. He very well could be a walking STD. Hell, it really does make no sense that he's a virgin. But what would Zhang Hao know? He could say the same for him.
Out of all the incredulous obscenities he's muttered into Hanbin's ear that night, Hanbin will probably find it hard to truly believe that he's never done this before, that he's as scared as him but desperate all the same.
"Okay, we're doing this," Hanbin says as he's coating his fingers with a good enough amount of lube, like he's having to reassure himself that this is not a dream. Zhang Hao palms his dick through his pants to make sure he knows it's not, grinning to the high heavens at the groan he gets as a response.
"You're fucking insane, but I guess I am too." And then there are fingers inside of him, stretching him out until he can't think of any slick remarks to stop himself from being too nervous and giving up. Because he wants this, wants Hanbin, more than anything.
Any worry that he has is sealed with a soft kiss, tongue lapping over the mole on his bottom lip. He enjoys these soft kisses more than anything. It's such a stark contrast to what he experiences in the day: men succumbing to their worst desires—the carnal of men disgusting him until he is choking them, tying a rope, or doing anything to keep them away from him.
Hanbin wants him on a level that still has its purity rooted into his desires, and it is a beautiful thing to be wanted like that. To not have to be afraid when his body is being touched, because he respects him enough. It's a respect that should be the bare minimum, but Zhang Hao hasn't experienced it until now.
He finds himself lost in Hanbin's eyes, lost in the pleasure as he is filled to the brim. He wants to look away, be embarrassed at all the sounds he's never knew his body and voice could let out, but he is so enamored by Hanbin's gaze that he can't stop meeting it.
"Zhang Hao," he mumbles once they are washed up and wrapped safely into the covers of his bed. Their legs are tangled, Hanbin spooning him. Hanbin's brushing the hair out of his eyes when he says it.
"My name." He releases it from its chains, just for the night. He thinks it's okay to let him have that, a name that no longer holds weight in anyone's memories but his own.
"It's a beautiful name," Hanbin reassures him, and Zhang Hao is suddenly crying in his arms, unable to stop.
This night has to be enough. He's already allowed him more than one, and three has never been a good look on him.
₊✩‧₊˚☾˚₊✩‧₊
Zhang Hao is a snorer, and he wakes to hardly anything. It's one of the first things Hanbin comes to find out about the man whose name he was entirely sure he'd end up forgetting when he woke to a raging headache.
Still, in his daze, he couldn't forget a name like that. It was Chinese, and while he doesn't know enough to be able to decipher what characters they are, he knows each stroke is as beautiful as the man donning the name.
Or not donning, because no one seems to know it. Like his suspicion, he can't find him on any social media. Any semblance—at the first glance—of a man named Zhang Hao in their city, in any possible character of Korean or Chinese, is blank. Like he doesn't exist.
That should be red flag number 1. But hey, maybe the man changed his name to a Korean one. Maybe he really is named Haneul. So he goes through Instagram searching for any Haneuls, and not a single man that is Chinese or fitting the profile he's pictured up appears.
Okay. Maybe he really just doesn't do the whole social media thing. That's normal. Or, it should be.
He gets up off the bed, brushing Zhang Hao's hair out of his eyes the same way he did when he got to hear the man's name for the first time before he leaves the room. The man is still lightly snoring when he shuts the door.
It's not that he wants to explore his apartment, but curiosity killed the cat, and Hanbin has been said to resemble one with his whiskers. So into the small kitchen he goes.
Not that he noticed it the night before, but there really isn't any color in the apartment. Everything is either black or white, mostly black until he gets to a door that has a sign with something in English on it. The sign in question is the brightest thing he's seen in the apartment: there's large red auspicious looking letters, red the same shade of blood.
Curiosity is still killing the cat that is Hanbin, so he takes a picture of it to put it into a translator app. It says, to his bumfuzzlement, 'RICKY, DO NOT GO INTO THE ROOM. YOU WILL REGRET IT,' which has to be the most ominous sign he's ever had the displeasure of reading.
He has no idea who Ricky is, but he figures that if this Ricky wasn't allowed in here, he sure as hell wouldn't be with two days of Zhang Hao knowledge on his belt.
The two days, or rather nights, have taught him a few things.
One, Zhang Hao is weird. Weird in a good way, the way that makes him unique, but weird nonetheless.
Two, Zhang Hao cares about trust and respect more than anything. It's the reason he thinks they've gotten along so well. They have a tacit understanding of one another, so much trust for two strangers who are only a little more than a one-night stand that it's confusing and terrifying. He's never had a bond like this with a stranger.
But who knows, maybe humans develop strong bonds after they've explored all there is to explore between their bodies. It's not like he had any other experiences to test this theory.
So he'll enjoy this strange bond he has with Zhang Hao. Even if the man's a little weird and has wigs and dresses in his closet that Hanbin happened to accidentally see the night before because hey, he might be into that if he sees it in action.
"What are you doing?" Hanbin looks up from his phone to meet eyes with Zhang Hao, wearing nothing but a white robe, his arms crossed over his chest. It's incredibly sassy, a little (a lot) attractive despite the scowl he's giving Hanbin.
The look is so accusatory that his ears are reddening by the second. "The sign intrigued me." And then he's smiling, because that makes him look a little less guilty. He hopes.
"Oh," and then any distance that Zhang Hao's eyes displayed is evaporated, cute downward smiles replacing any trace of it. Like it didn't happen.
It's something he's grown accustomed to these past two nights; Zhang Hao is a mystery that he has to latch onto, or else the trail will inevitably go cold. Never to be found again.
He seems to like that, latching onto him; Hanbin runs hot, Zhang Hao runs cold. In all the similarities that they've found in one another these two nights, this is the one difference that he's fell in love with.
"It's my work room. Has a lot of expensive stuff in it that I don't want my younger brother touching." The explanation seems rushed, like it's the first time he's had to give it to someone.
Hanbin almost believes that he is the first one. But it would be crazy, wouldn't it, for him to be the first visitor?
"We don't have visitors often," Zhang Hao seems to feel the need to explain more. His face looks entirely panicked, brows raised almost impossibly high. "It's just me and Ricky, so other than the occasional friends from school he has over, we don't really talk to people."
His ears are so red. Hanbin's lips curve up fondly at the sight. "You don't have to explain yourself, Zhang Hao." It's the first time he's saying his name out loud.
The thought that he may be younger than Zhang Hao only crosses his mind a beat later, when the man is already gaping and smacking his head in a way that is telling Hanbin he probably wasn't supposed to remember his name. That he was hoping the alcohol wouldn't allow it.
"Wait, how old are you?" He ignores the way his heart begins to ache at the realization that Zhang Hao was only letting him solve the mystery that was his being because he thought he'd lose the trail by the rise of the sun.
"I'm 23. I was born in July of 2000."
"Eleven months apart," Hanbin catches himself saying like a crazy person instead of just giving his birthday. "22; June of 2001."
"Okay, Hanbin-ah." Hanbin's name has never sounded so good until he's hearing it come from Zhang Hao's lips. He could get addicted to this. Everything about the man, really.
"Hao-hyung," he responds, easily letting it roll off his tongue like he's been saying it his whole life. The effect Zhang Hao has had on him the past two days, he's decided, is something he no longer wants to question.
The only question ringing in his mind is if he has that same effect on Zhang Hao, and if it is eating him alive in the same way that it does to Hanbin. Perhaps it's why he doesn't want a third night: Hanbin is everything Zhang Hao needs but all too much at the same time.
Zhang Hao doesn't seem used to the honorific. He's still just gaping at Hanbin like he's done the unspeakable. "Would you rather me call you Ge or Gege?" He suggests instead, hoping it's a little more comfortable.
"Hyung's fine," is all Zhang Hao says before sparing one last glance at the door behind Hanbin and making his way towards the kitchen.
It looks mostly unused. There's not much going on in this area: he's missing a lot of common household things, like he bought a child's play set that lost a few of the pieces. There's a Hello Kitty rice cooker, a waffle maker (it's heart shaped!) and some other things, but where the fuck is anything else?
"We don't drink coffee," Zhang Hao begins to say like Hanbin's dying to know why there's no appliance to make coffee of all things. "Just tea," he adds like it's absolutely necessary. Hanbin finds it endearing how odd he is.
"Do you have any friends, hyung?" He finds himself saying before any comments about the kitchen.
Zhang Hao stops in his place in front of the refrigerator. His shoulders droop a little as he leans onto it. "Is it obvious that I haven't done this in a while?"
He doesn't know what exactly he means by this, because this can mean a lot of things when it comes to Zhang Hao, so he asks.
"Interacting with people who don't hate you. Laughing along with someone who sees you as a human being. Not having to worry about how others see you. Being... normal."
He is crying, much like the night before, and then he is falling into Hanbin's warm embrace. He can only hope that he is warm enough for the both of them.
What is it they say about the number three again?
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Zhang Hao hasn't gone out in public during the day as a man in a good two years. The last time was with his boss for brunch, which is beyond terrifying to anyone who considers the fact that his boss was the person that caused him to be declared dead to the rest of the world, who stripped him bare of all his earthly possessions and resurrected him.
To explain, his father was a pretty bad gambler. His mother blamed every problem she ever had on Zhang Hao, and then Ricky when he was born. The family got into so much debt when Zhang Hao entered high school that a loan shark forced him to do all sorts of tasks and even then it wasn't enough to amount to anything.
So as soon as he was ready to make a name for himself in the world, his father gambled basically everything they ever had. The day Zhang Hao finished the gaokao he was being forced to crossdress and seduce men in clubs for money, only to then be forced to lure them out to be tortured by the loan shark that had never once left his family alone.
His name is Kitae. His mother's from southeastern China, not too far from where Zhang Hao grew up in Fujian, his father a rural town in Korea. He spent most of his life being a debt collector in China, but even he had to go off the grid when his black market business of being a hitman figured out that there was a mole lurking.
Before then Zhang Hao was only doing surface level things for him. Nothing that was too physical, so he continued to study more before the time university rolled around. He could make enough working Kitae's simple jobs.
But Kitae was on the run before he knew it, and he wanted to take Zhang Hao with him. Indulgent as any 18 year old going to a foreign country and changing identities would be, his only condition was that they had to bring Quanrui along. Quanrui, his silly yet misunderstood brother who was hardly a teenager himself that would never last a day with their parents who owned not a single dime after their father's last stunt.
Kitae was quick to make false identities for them. Quanrui had giggled like he was going to be an undercover agent and not someone evading his home country with a wanted man, stating that his name should be Ricky out of nowhere like he'd always been waiting for the day he'd get to become a different person. On the other hand, Zhang Hao, with the two weeks of Korean he had known before they were being hauled off, opted for Haneul.
Still an incredibly horrible decision. Even Skylar would've been better. Clever, even.
They'd lived with Kitae for a good two years. The last time he'd been out in public as a man during the day, actually, was when he was having his goodbye dinner with Kitae after he had saved up enough money from the teaching at the high school and violin lessons to get himself and Ricky an apartment.
"I'm proud of you, kid," Kitae had said like he was his father and not the man that turned him into a killer.
"That means a lot. Thank you, really," Zhang Hao remembers himself beaming. It was probably the first time he'd felt proud of what he'd accomplished since the gaokao he almost missed taking.
Kitae may have turned him into a killer, but he at least didn't let him become a coldhearted one. They took occasional trips to Jeju or other cities Zhang Hao and Ricky had never even heard of. They'd go to amusement parks, looking like a normal family of a single dad and two teenagers. One an incredibly tall girl, the other a sixteen year old giant that was at least taller than her.
He had put Zhang Hao up to the oddest of tasks back in China, but he had also helped him get his first real job at 17, tutoring elementary school kids in English.
He helped him score a temporary place in a prestigious orchestra at the age of 20. And even though it wasn't within his realm of capabilities to get Zhang Hao into a real university, he helped him fake a degree and actually work at the high school Ricky goes to so he can keep an extra eye on him. Hence, he never felt like the man was plotting his financial downfall like most loan sharks would. He knew he'd never really be able to pay off all the debt, even with picking up Kitae's hitman job for the most part, but there was some sense in security knowing that he wasn't stuck with the worst man in the world. Kind of.
With that all being said, it is not expected that Kitae didn't call beforehand—something he has been doing with precision for the past 2 years—when he shows up on Zhang Hao's doorstep right after he's done crying like an embarrassing toddler in Hanbin's arms.
He knows it's Kitae from the way he knocks, but it doesn't ease the tremors of his heart any more.
Zhang Hao and Hanbin stand in silence for a few heartbeats before Hanbin finally breaks it. "Aren't you going to get that?" His stare isn't harsh, only faintly curious at Zhang Hao's presumed hesitation.
What the fuck is he supposed to do about this predicament?
"This may sound crazy, but I need you to hide," Zhang Hao finds himself whispering onto Hanbin's skin. "In the room you're not supposed to be in. Lock it and don't touch anything or come out until you hear me knocking. Morse code for three."
And Hanbin is nodding along as if it's the most normal thing someone has requested of him. He says nothing before Zhang Hao is unlocking the 'don't enter' door for him to go into.
He may not know it just yet, but Zhang Hao has just laid his heart out for him on a silver platter. He's naked in an entirely different sense than he was when he woke that morning; he's stripped bare, vulnerable.
There's no going back after he goes into that room. No room for excuses or jokes. Everything he once was is stored there.
Everything that is Zhang Hao, and nothing that is Haneul.
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When Hanbin enters the room he's unsure of what he's looking at. There's a humongous bookshelf, bigger than any he's ever had the luxury of owning, that spans from one side of the room to the other. It hides any ability of seeing outside from a window, so it is incredibly dark and the only thing that he can make out.
He faintly remembers the instructions to not move, so he sits down and prays that Zhang Hao dusts his special room every once in a while. Sneezing when he's not supposed to would ruin any chance of ever pursuing something with him, he's pretty certain of that.
So he listens, and listens some more, because that's truly all he can do. Blame the cat for being curious.
"Why are you showing up announced?" He can't decipher Zhang Hao's tone. It's a little higher pitched than what he used with Hanbin, the syllables hurried and drawn out all in the wrong places like he suddenly forgot how to properly enunciate them.
"Quanrui texted me that he's worried about you. He's been staying nights at his friend's in hopes that you've been getting some action. And by the looks of it, it wasn't in vain."
A screech, sounding uncannily like a crow, is heard throughout the apartment. Hanbin wants to giggle like a crazy person at the fact that the stranger talking to Zhang Hao probably saw all the hickeys he had given him.
He ponders for a moment if Quanrui is another name for his younger brother. It would make sense considering he seems to be the only one living with Zhang Hao.
"That boy... he's a bit too sweet sometimes." Zhang Hao is awkwardly laughing and it is the most obvious thing ever. It's so sweet.
"Did the person see you as a woman?" The stranger is asking, and Hanbin almost jumps at the implication.
"No," Zhang Hao is hurriedly saying in a tone that is a lot sterner than he's heard before. It's hot when it shouldn't be; he was clearly just upset about what was being insinuated. "We met last night at the club. I went home alone."
Oh. Okay.
Hanbin still doesn't know if this is a person who needed lying to, but he's hiding from him after all, so maybe it makes sense to not admit that they went home together.
"Did anyone see you?" Their conversation is turning into something Hanbin can't understand.
At some point they are both speaking in Chinese. If the stranger doesn't know he's in the house, then it can only mean that Zhang Hao is saying something he absolutely doesn't want Hanbin to know.
It hurts, but then he reminds himself that he is a stranger. A stranger who has slept in his bed next to him and called him the most beautiful person he's ever seen, but a stranger nonetheless.
It takes multiple minutes that could very well be hours of Hanbin slumped into a corner of this dark room for the light to finally hit him when Zhang Hao is knocking on the door in a series of knocks that Hanbin hopes to mean three.
When he's unlocking it, Zhang Hao feigns annoyance with the cross of his arms. Hanbin is sure that he does it to hide that he is shaking all over. "That was two, not three. What would've happened if a bad person found you?"
And all he could say to that was, "you're not a bad person." He believes it more than he thought he would, for Zhang Hao to only be a stranger.
He doesn't want him to be a stranger. Even as the light is switched on by a shaking hand, even when he's facing an array of weapons that look straight out of a horror movie, he finds himself more enamored by the being that is Zhang Hao.
"Did you wipe the blood off of that?" He asks to fill the silence that is bestowed upon them once everything is out in the open. He's pointing to a machete leaning against the ginormous bookcase that he now sees to be full of files. It's like a mini library of photo albums and relics that even Indiana Jones would be impressed with.
"It's clean," Zhang Hao is reassuring with a dazed expression. He hasn't looked Hanbin in the eyes for a good two minutes. "Any other questions?"
Hanbin can't help but to burst out in laughter at how incredulous it is for the first person he's ever slept with to be a killer. Or appears to be a killer, because he didn't even flinch at the insinuation that he was cutting someone up with a machete for it to have blood on it.
He decides to focus on the other aspects of the room, so as to find some semblance of normalcy. There's a violin in a display case on one wall. It looks incredibly expensive. While the room in itself isn't the biggest, it is almost entirely covered with enough things to give it a personality, if the knives and mannequins donning wigs didn't say enough.
Next to the display case is a vanity with more makeup on it than he's seen beauty YouTubers display. It's seriously like a room for a stage actress whose role is a psycho killer.
He finds it so intriguing he forgets to breathe for several seconds. He finds it so intriguing that he's fainting in Zhang Hao's arms.
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Zhang Hao is freaking out. Zhang Hao who has just had a conversation with his boss who was telling him to not sleep with anyone for more than one night because they'd never be able to stay, to become a new normal.
Normal would never be associated with him. He'd learnt this, yes, but Kitae pointing it out before letting him know he'd send his new mission soon struck a blow he hadn't felt before from the man. It was a warning, and Kitae never gave warnings; he never had the need to, as Zhang Hao had incredible punctuation when it came to his job.
He's been doing everything perfectly for the past few years, so why is Kitae acting different now?
He knows something. He knows something, and he wants me to know that he does. He'll ruin me and everything I've ever loved if I don't listen.
He's clenching his jaw, nails digging into his skin when the Hanbin laying against him on the couch comes to. It had took several heaves for Zhang Hao to get him there in the first place when he passed out.
Now it's been a good twenty minutes of him nearly ripping all his hair out at the realization that he's going to have to explain himself to someone who has never been tarnished by the evils of the world that Zhang Hao surrounds himself in daily.
The 'talk' was going well initially, Hanbin even making jokes about his signature machete of all things. But he must've been scared as fuck if he got to a point where he was passing out into Zhang Hao's arms.
So he has no idea what to do when Hanbin is back to staring at him with wide eyes. He resembles a hamster. It's possibly the cutest thing ever. But definitely not the time to be thinking things like that.
"You're not a stage actor, are you?" It's such an innocent question that throws any worry out the window, even though it shouldn't have that effect.
"No, Hanbin, I'm not an actor." He finds himself smiling softly. This might not be the worst thing ever. He could work with this, really.
"But you do crossdress."
He feels his ears redden. "I do."
Hanbin is now leaning onto his side. He's not used to the warmth, but he finds himself not entirely minding it. "But it's not a fetish, right? It's to hide your identity."
Zhang Hao had not an inclination the night before on how Hanbin would react to the news that his whole identity is a lie. But he seems to be taking it well because everything that he's shown Hanbin is entirely real, and the man seems to pick up on that and the fact that he's the only one who knows the truth.
"Yes, I have to." He's whispering it, pained by the way Hanbin is wincing at any loud sound. His head is probably spinning. He brushes the man's bangs out of his eyes and kisses his forehead in hopes to soothe it.
"You.. have to. What's holding you back from being yourself?" Hanbin looks too worried for the Zhang Hao that is still a stranger. His worry is as big as the worry Zhang Hao has for his younger brother every time he leaves the apartment alone to go to Gyuvin's, every time he's not rolling around in the music room's office waiting for Zhang Hao to be done for the day so they can walk home together.
"I have a grave. Back in China." It's funny admitting that one. He's never thought about it deeply, for more than a few passing moments. He'd always thought it would freak him out if he did. Maybe it does.
It's a heavy thing, being dead to the world.
"My brother, Quanrui—he's Ricky now—has one too. We never visited in person, but our boss sent us photos." It's a completely normal thing for your hitman boss to get his goons to bring flowers to your grave after orchestrating your disappearance from the world.
It makes him smile, despite it all.
Hanbin must think he's crazy. He is crazy. It wouldn't be a preposterous assumption to think that Zhang Hao is off his medication and having an episode. He won't blame him if he thinks that. It's the least that Hanbin can do.
And maybe if he laughs, says this is all some elaborate scheme, they can still go back to the morning, only a few hours before, where he's running his fingers through Hanbin's hair and admiring the rise and fall of a chest next to his that is entirely alive and real.
He braces himself for anything as he shuts his eyes. But what he is met with sends his body into a state of shock. Hanbin is kissing him—soft and warm and inviting in a way that gives him goosebumps all over his body.
Zhang Hao's arms are behind Hanbin's neck, pushing on the back of it to bring them closer as he explores the man's mouth more.
Hanbin sucks on his bottom lip, biting it until he tastes blood mixed in with the spit trail that follows them when they part. The taste of blood is not foreign to Zhang Hao; he's tasted it a million times on accident, most of the times being when a cut wasn't clean enough and it splattered onto his face like characters are shown in horror movies. But this is the first time he's hungrily lapped at it like he can't get enough, like he's a dog that got its first taste of blood and can't stop its rabidness.
"You're driving me fucking insane, Sung Hanbin," Zhang Hao whimpers when their teeth clash as he pulls them into another kiss. The harshness leaves his whole mouth stinging, and yet he is enjoying it. Perhaps pain is necessary for him to love this when all he's been doing for the past four years is exerting it onto others.
Their hands are everywhere, clothes discarded to who knows where. Zhang Hao is just relieved that they kept the bottle of lube on the counter next to the couch. Being a minute away from Hanbin would've drove him crazy, he's sure of that.
He's still sore from the endeavors they went through last night, but he doesn't care. He'll die if he doesn't have him here, like this, right now. Hanbin feeling so good as he rides him that he can't think of anything else except for Zhang Hao, Zhang Hao, Zhang Hao.
"Hao-hyung... Ge... gege... please." Zhang Hao stops momentarily to hear the whines Hanbin lets out, that same sonata that only the two of them can recognize, before he slams his body back down, intertwining their hands and gripping them so hard they have marks all over them.
It's incredibly different from the night before, when they were needy but soft. Shy enough to not let all their emotions pile out. Taking their time still exploring one another on Zhang Hao's bed that was—surprisingly—big enough for the two of them. This time they are confined on the couch, unapologetically obsessed with the way their bodies intertwine with one another like puzzle pieces. Screaming each others names until their throats are raw and they can't take it anymore. And even then it is still not enough for the Zhang Hao that wants to eat Hanbin alive, flesh and bones like some ravenous animal, to be inside him but for Hanbin to be inside him as well.
It's not normal. Love, Zhang Hao always knew, would not come normally for him. But it's too soon to say that this is anything when infatuation is seeping through the blinds, through his skull and making its nest in there.
Hanbin is so entirely fucked out by the time Zhang Hao's done having his way with him that he can't speak for several minutes. He lays a kiss on his forehead, getting up to run a bath for the two of them.
It's incredibly domestic, and even more so when it's happening after Zhang Hao has spilled his heart out, bare in every sense of the word.
He's never done anything that would be considered domestic like this. He never saw it in his parents or other familial figures. He's running pure on instinct at this point, because there are some things that books do not teach you.
Love and obsession and the difference between the two is one of them, he's soon realizing. It is a fickle line, he is sure, but one he doesn't know the ending and the beginning to nonetheless.
When they are facing one another in the tub that almost always goes unused, Hanbin is smiling softly at him. It's not a smile that gets directed towards him often, nor is it one he deserves.
He is not normal. He can't ruin Hanbin too.
"Gege, tell me more about what you do." Hanbin already seems obsessed with calling him Gege. The endearment is as foreign as Hyung is to him, because even Ricky never called him that as a child.
He's called Kitae Ge a few times, but Gege was something unheard of. He found himself smiling every time Hanbin said it.
"It's cruel work. And yet it is not, because I don't hurt anyone that doesn't deserve it." He rests his chin on his knees, wanting nothing but to nestle up into Hanbin's arms. But he feels for some inexplicable reason that he needs to be facing Hanbin when telling him this.
He needs to know that he is a killer, but that he doesn't take lives for the sake or thrill of it. He is a killer, and there is no excuse for that, but it is the hand he has dealt that has led him this way.
"Who was the last one? What'd he do? Do you have conditions?" The amount of questions should be overwhelming but they are not.
He slowly answers them one by one. "Seo Juwon was the last one, wealthy businessman. Raped two women but is backed up by several chaebols and the police so he barely received a slap on his wrist. One of the victims paid my boss, and then it got split between the two of us for him to give me the necessary materials to make the kill. Our main condition is that we will not kill women. There's several hitmen in my boss's circle who hire female employees to do their killings when it comes down to hurting women, but it's a strict policy for us."
Hanbin's nodding along, probably a bit too enthusiastically for someone hearing about a life that is only seen in movie screens, every time he answers a question.. and just keeps on going with more questions. He's so endearing about it that Zhang Hao can't get frustrated at him.
"I crossdress in my daily life. I'm only ever out as myself at night, and it is never on nights that I make my kills. I'm an orchestra teacher's assistant at the high school my younger brother goes to but I used to play in the nearby college's orchestra as well. There's just not a way for me to live a life that isn't hidden, so I could never enroll in actual university, and the credentials I do have in order to get my job are falsified. It'd be too risky otherwise."
He's long known in his head that his future held nothing of some eminence, that anything he has was not by his own efforts. It doesn't upset him like it used to, but in the face of a shining Sung Hanbin it seems to sting a bit more than usual.
"Is there a reason you chose this life?" The question is so incredibly invasive that he's surprised he doesn't flinch when it is asked.
There was no choice. He thought that was clear. But still, he can't blame an innocent person like Hanbin for not understanding a life he never knew existed, a path that no one else would take.
"My parents had nothing and Kitae was the only answer. He wanted to take me away from that life, and so I had to follow." It's here that he ends this conversation. He doesn't need to let Hanbin in any more than he's comfortable doing so. Hanbin must understand that, as he backs down too, choosing instead to knead circles on Zhang Hao's knees like some type of declawed cat.
The familiar knocks of morse code for nine announce Ricky's presence, shattering any sense of calmness Zhang Hao has in the moment. He and Hanbin had almost been asleep at this point, hands knotted together.
"Hao! It's me and Gyub," Ricky shouts once he's in the apartment. Gyuvin is to Ricky as Hanbin is now to Zhang Hao. They're, well, very obviously not adult in the way that Zhang Hao and Hanbin are, but Gyuvin is one of the only sense of normalcies Ricky has had in the past four years.
He's the only one—apart from Hanbin—that knows the truth about the two siblings. It's more of a childlike censored version compared to what Zhang Hao has explained now to Hanbin, where Gyuvin only knows that they would be in deep shit if people found out that they were illegal immigrants, but Ricky thoroughly convinced the boy that they ran away from home because their parents hated gay people.
Who knows what else Ricky said to explain to Gyuvin as to why Zhang Hao pretends to be a woman and how he gained the ability to become a teacher without ever going to the university he put on his resume. Gyuvin never looks at him any different so he supposes it can't be too bad.
Zhang Hao can only shout back a shaky, "Okay! I'm in the bathroom!" before he has a full on panic attack thinking about how to hide a whole adult man from his younger brother and whoever the heck Gyuvin is to him.
He can do this. He's hid more unwilling bodies—dead ones—and faked a thousand different scenarios before in order to protect himself and his integrity. If Zhang Hao can't do this simple task he might as well write 'I'm an assassin' on his forehead in bright red Sharpie.
Okay, that reassurance was not reassuring in the slightest. He nearly threw towels straight into Hanbin's face as he stood up from the bathtub.
"I'm—I'm sorry but I don't know if I'm ready for you to meet Ricky yet," he fumbles out as he rushes to put his clothes on at top speed. There's not necessarily a reason to rush—it's not like Ricky will try to barge in when the door's already locked—but in his bones he feels that the longer he allows Hanbin by his side the less he'll be able to hold back from asking him to stay another night.
"It's alright, Haohao. You said yet, and that's all that matters." Sung Hanbin is an angel. An angel who could reassure even the most deranged of people. He could probably trick a psychopath into feeling things if he really wanted to.
He doesn't realize he said yet until Hanbin's mentioning it himself. His ears instinctively redden by the slightest, and so he turns with his back to Hanbin to put the rest of his clothes on that he thankfully took to the bathroom already.
There is none, however, for Hanbin. This is a problem. Zhang Hao's room is unfortunately not attached to the bathroom, so he whispers for Hanbin to not move before he sneaks over to get more fitting attire for a man like Hanbin and not whatever the hell type of dresses he wears to work every day.
Living double lives is incredibly difficult. He's really trying his hardest.
"Hi Haohao!" Gyuvin is greeting him in front of the don't enter Ricky door, much similar to the Hanbin of the morning. He's never actually attempted to open it nor did he really ever ask about it. It must be—
Oh wait. Oh wait a second.
Zhang Hao has made a major mistake. A very big error.
He didn't close the fucking door.
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There's really not much explaining to do when Gyuvin's already seen the worst. It really shouldn't be a shock to him that he's quite possibly the most nonchalant teenager in the world—he hardly even blinks once he glances at the rows of torture devices.
"Ricky wasn't joking," Gyuvin finally says once he stares back at Zhang Hao. Then he is smiling, laughing even. "We were having a conversation about you one day and for some reason I mentioned that I thought you were too much of a chicken to actually murder people. He looked so freaked out after that when he was telling me that you killed people for a living."
He tells it like they were conversing over the weather and not about Zhang Hao's assumed hobby to chop men up.
This has to be why Ricky is head over heels for the kid.
Zhang Hao is almost certain he hears Hanbin snorting at the comment from the bathroom. He's even more certain when Gyuvin's head tilts in the direction.
"Do you have someone over?" He asks tentatively.
He finds it his best interest to not lie to Gyuvin. "Yes... I went out to get clothes for him."
"So he's alive? And will be?"
He is so done with this conversation. It should never roll this smoothly. What the fuck is up with younger Gen Z and their acceptance of this shit? True crime has ruined their brains.
"We fucked. On the couch." He responds rather dumbly. It wasn't even an answer, really, when most people he worked with at the organization already assumed he sexually coerced men before chopping their balls off.
Where the fuck is Ricky to stop him from saying anything else dumb? He should've ended the conversation a good five minutes ago, when Gyuvin was just saying hello.
"That's so fucking disgusting," Ricky says from behind him instead of announcing his presence with a hi or hello. He's eerily good at that for a 182cm teenager who stands out in any crowd for being the most attractive person there.
Okay. There goes pretending like Hanbin isn't there for Ricky to meet.
Instead of responding to Ricky's comment he grabs the clothes he prays Hanbin will fit in and barges back into the restroom to be met with Hanbin leaning over the sink all naked like a Greek statue.
"What.. are you doing?"
"Do I get to meet the family?" Hanbin ends up asking at the same time, choosing rather pointedly not to address his previous actions.
Zhang Hao rolls his eyes for a response and hands him the clothes. Then he actually responds, "You look way too excited about this."
Hanbin protests, "I've heard great things about Ricky!"
"What do you know about Ricky?" He argues back, just because he can and just because it's so silly that they're arguing about this when they could be arguing about a million other things at the moment.
"I know..." Hanbin pauses to think, then has a mischievous glint in his eyes that Zhang Hao hasn't seen before. He'd admire it if it were the appropriate time to do so. "I know that he isn't supposed to go into the door."
"I should change that sign to No Gyuvin and Hanbin allowed when you two are out," Zhang Hao mutters more to himself than anything. Much to his demise, he's found that Hanbin has acutely perfect hearing.
"Call that 2binz."
"What, are you suddenly a duo?"
They go back and forth for a couple of minutes until Ricky and Gyuvin complain from outside the bathroom that he's taking too long to introduce his 'boyfriend.'
His ears burn like a teenage girl with a crush at the mention. Curse those silly teenagers who are even worse than them when it comes to their affection.
Finally, the two are standing outside the bathroom. Hanbin and Gyuvin immediately gaze at one another until they're in complete shock. They look like a bunch of puppies when Gyuvin all but jumps onto Hanbin.
"Hyung, what the fuck are you doing here?" He's asking like Zhang Hao didn't state a few minutes before exactly what they were doing before the teenagers arrived.
He should be embarrassed that they seem to know one another, but it is only joy that he feels when he sees them jump up and down in a shared amount of energy.
He sees from the corner of his eye Ricky smiling, too. It's a rare sight.
"Hanbin-hyung's my dance instructor," Gyuvin begins to explain once they are all sat down at the less-than-spacious kitchen table. Gyuvin and Ricky brought back some tteokbokki from Gyuvin's lovely mother so they all agree upon having it even though it's hardly the right time of day for it.
It's crazy as hell that the only two normal people that know about their lives are connected.
It almost has Zhang Hao wishing for the normalcy he works hard for Ricky to experience: to have that one person and it be enough.
He could have a life like this, he thinks, when they are eating at the table, Gyuvin and Ricky fighting over who serves the other while Hanbin stares fondly at his student and friend.
He can't have a life like this, he concludes, when the illusion is gone with the blink of an eye. The familiar chime of Mariya Takeuchi's September snaps him out of it; it's the sign that Kitae has texted him the profile of the target he had hinted at earlier.
Next Target: Sung Hanjae.
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It isn't until Hanbin is walking out the door and promising that he'll call him later that Zhang Hao processes Kitae's message.
Sung Hanjae, what are the chances that it's not a family member of Hanbin's?
"Gyub," Zhang Hao starts. He's accepted that the boy won't go home for a while at this point in the day, as it is a Saturday, and that he's not going to freak out on him for being a killer.
"Yes, Haohao?" He and Hanbin are very similar in the way that they started calling Zhang Hao that as soon as they learned his name. It had took a few weeks for him to stop calling him Haneul when Zhang Hao finally discerned that he was safe—and oblivious—enough to be let inside his apartment, but Haohao stuck immediately.
Gyuvin is not oblivious, he knows that now. He is simply omniscient and terrifying and all the more perfect a person could be for Ricky who is so similar in attitude yet different in everything else entirely.
He's also the only one that dares to call Ricky Quanrui. It doesn't even matter that there's a total of 3 people close to him that know the name in the first place; calling him Quanrui is like asking for a death wish. Zhang Hao would rather stay alive for as long as possible, thank you.
"Where does Hanbin work?" It's a stupid question that he should know by now. However, small talk has never been his strong suit, and the day consisted of Zhang Hao spilling out things after years of keeping them to himself. He learned hardly anything about Hanbin's life in the process.
He's a dancer, he knows that. Thanks to Gyuvin. He's.. well, that's actually about it. He really did just ramble about himself for as long as he felt necessary.
"It's the dance academy a few blocks away from our school. I can show you one day if you want?"
Okay, that's a plan. Now the next one will be how to figure out his family tree. Then he'll go from there.
He can do this. He has to.
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Hanbin's mother is sweet. Doting in every endearing way that Hanbin is, and Zhang Hao is sure that she would keep his treacherous secret if he asked it of her.
He wasn't quite sure of what to expect out of the dinner. He hasn't sat down with loving adults in, well, ever, so he's an awkward stage where the weather can't seem to make up its mind when Mrs. Han and Mr. Sung are forever sunshine embedded in his vision.
He is introduced as Hanbin's boyfriend: much to his pain—he can never truly have him—and pleasure; he is his in the eyes of anyone that matters.
But to understand the meaning of this meeting, to Zhang Hao's full understanding and Hanbin's ignorance, this he'll have to go back to days before.
The days leading up to this are hard to explain. He's since talked to Kitae twice, once to gain more intel on who the fuck he was supposed to be killing (Hanbin's dad, he now knows) and twice to confirm that there really was someone out to get the man for them to be killing him in the first place.
Them, because Zhang Hao can't bear the thought of being sole responsible for the life of someone who is so close, so real and so human and so presumably innocent in the matters he faces daily.
It is a day after the bomb is dropped that Hanbin's dad is, in fact, the one he needs to be killing, that he shows up at Hanbin's dance studio unannounced. Gyuvin is incredibly excited to see him, maybe even more so than the Hanbin whose jaw drops at the sight of his attire.
He has one of his favorite wigs on, one that was incredibly expensive and perfectly matches his natural shade of hair. It is straight and he never has to do much with it to work in his favor, so he spent the majority of his Sunday morning donning makeup he hoped Hanbin would like in order to win his favor over a bit.
Favor for what, he still hasn't discerned by the time he's out the door and his feet are taking him to the studio Gyuvin generously gave him the directions to. He's clutching the ends of his long, black Victorian style dress in hopes of calming his nerves but it isn't working in the slightest bit. Ricky is on his trail, smiling softly to himself, more than likely due to the fact that he'd be seeing Gyuvin again.
He hasn't seen Hanbin since the man walked out his apartment door alive (which is not the same he can say for some that have walked through it) and promising to call him. They didn't have a full conversation on the phone until that Monday evening, which was okay; that afternoon he was caught up in the office helping one of his students with a particularly hard sheet of music for the kid's composition class, and Hanbin was busy doing whatever it is that people who have lives where they're not always on the edge do.
Being alone in a studio with a student is not very professional no matter what instructor you are, but Zhang Hao especially so—it is incredibly hard to fool people into believing you are a woman when nothing about you screams that you are one.
Sometimes Zhang Hao curses Kitae for making him live this life as an entirely different human being when he could've gotten him to dye his hair and called it a day. Sure, Zhang Hao and Ricky together would be obvious to anyone who knew them back in China, but what is to say that anyone is looking for them when they have been declared dead for years? It wasn't like children who eventually have a presumption of death cast upon them in abduction cases—it's been four years since Kitae and his goons tricked the entirety of China into believing that two teenagers, one who was even making headlines for his gaokao scores, died in a horrific accident.
It's kind of hard to come back from. Which, in turn, also means that he never will. He will never be Zhang Hao again, and to Kitae that means he will be a woman named Haneul who has never been to China and never wants to. Haneul who teaches orchestra at the high school her younger brother goes to for a living.
Still, why wasn't he a man named Haneul who likes to crossdress when he gives lessons and any other time of the day when he was out? Because that would attract too much attention?
Anyway, there's no use in dwelling on it. He can't suddenly go and change his I.D. He'll forever be a woman to the world unless Kitae dies and he is free of his shackles.
Which doesn't sound like a bad idea, he thinks, when he's waiting on a chair for Hanbin to finish his lessons. Zhang Hao finds that he looks incredibly hot when he's leading other people, because the only thing he can think about is how much Hanbin loves to follow Zhang Hao's lead in bed.
Probably not the best thing to be thinking about, either, as he's wearing a dress and will definitely frighten anyone if they see the bulge he is sure to have if he thinks about Hanbin and his submissiveness in the bedroom anymore.
So thoughts about Kitae's death he's planning for a one way ticket to freedom (or deportation and another bounty to his head) will have to do until Hanbin is done and Zhang Hao can be bold enough to ask about meeting his family.
Which is probably incredibly—not—normal for people who have known each other for a week max, whose only two interactions reek of sex and murder (not the action but the knowledge of, which is hardly any better for either of their character).
"Hao-hyung, what are you.. doing here?" He thoroughly checks him out and Zhang Hao is so flustered by the obvious action that he doesn't catch the fact that he's calling him that in public, even if it is in the safety of the studio.
Everyone except for Gyuvin and Hanbin had already packed up. Multiple other students had stared at the three before giving up on asking any questions and leaving.
Gyuvin, accustomed to Zhang Hao's outside attire, all but levitates toward him. "You didn't bring Quanrui with you today?"
There is such an oddity in Gyuvin fitting himself in with the family enough to start calling Ricky the name that is otherwise dead to the world even when the boy isn't around for him to get annoyed by it. It is with precise enunciation, unlike the rest of Gyuvin's typically butchered Mandarin.
"He's outside," Zhang Hao muses before Gyuvin is running out the door and he is left alone with Hanbin.
"Since you got to meet my family, I was wondering if you wanted me to meet yours." It's completely out of line for him to be saying something like this. And yet, it is the best he has.
Because Zhang Hao needs to confirm that Hanbin's father isn't the same man Kitae has tasked him to kill with his own two eyes, because he can't be the one to kill him if he is, and he needs to find out now before his mission is up and Kitae has a knife to his throat.
Hanbin jolts at the suddenness but calms down moments later. "That'd be nice. My mom'll think you're lovely. But.. do you want to be introduced as my boyfriend or my girlfriend?"
Huh. Good question. He hadn't thought about the complexity of this because he wasn't expecting him to say yes as soon as he mustered the question.
"Boy..friend, maybe. I won't crossdress." This is a dumb decision. An incredibly dumb decision, because this alludes Hanbin into thinking he wants to be a constant not only to himself but to his family by revealing his true self.
Who the fuck chooses to be in their true identity in the face of someone they are probably supposed to be murdering within the next month?
Hopefully not Zhang Hao; he can fix this mess all without Kitae chopping his head off. Whether figuratively or literally, he doesn't want to stay around to find out.
₊✩‧₊˚☾˚₊✩‧₊
Any time Zhang Hao sits across a dinner table from someone, he'll be reminded of the first murder he committed. It was his own perfect replication of The Last Supper, something he winces at once the memories all come back to him.
The Judas of the occasion had been his truly, Jesus his first client's cheating ex-husband. Zhang Hao had successfully pulled off his honeytrap against the man, feigning a damsel in distress one night in the streets and falling into the bastard's embrace, when he invited him to the dinner of a lifetime in his—someone in the organization's—apartment. He was one of the first of men that Zhang Hao would kiss, clumsy and careless as long as the job got done, and he had felt no remorse when the man was coughing up blood from the poison.
Kitae had come in clapping, eyes a wild haze that was entirely foreign to the Zhang Hao who had not yet grown accustomed to a Kitae that wasn't sweet and careful towards him; he a wolf and Zhang Hao his perfectly oblivious sheep, the younger had not an inclination of how deranged the man would become the more he saw Zhang Hao pull off these stunts.
It was as though something in him snapped the day he saw Zhang Hao wear the wig and dress for the first time, sharpening his knife before stabbing the choking man until blood was pouring like a leaking faucet.
Still, the Zhang Hao of then didn't want to believe in his mind that Kitae was a problem, that he wasn't an adoring father figure, the one more like a father than his own ever was.
Now that this dinner is nothing but full of loving remarks from a happily married couple, his mind flicks back to every time Kitae's forest fire eyes gazed at him unkindly, as if he'd be dirt to the earth if he didn't have a tiny skirt on and blood all over him.
"So, Zhang Hao, is it? Is it alright to call you Haohao?" Hanbin truly takes after his mother in every way. She starts calling him Haohao in even less time than Gyuvin and Hanbin did: within the first 10 minutes of knowing him.
He's slightly careful in all his remarks. It's the first time he's been so truthful to strangers, even if they are everything he could have ever dreamed of as a child. If his parents had an ounce of similarity to Hanbin's, he and Ricky would be in China making names for themselves, not creating names to hide behind.
There'd be no Kitae, no honeytraps, no blood to spill, and yet there would be no Hanbin. He'd be willing to give up everything to have his life back and yet Hanbin, this man he's known for hardly any time at all, is one thing—one person—he can't give up.
It's so preposterous he starts to giggle to himself at the table before kicking himself to wake the fuck up because there's no way he's going to screw up this meeting. He may not deserve Hanbin, but Hanbin deserves this much from him while he's still here and can't back out from this situation.
"You're really pretty, oppa. What do you do for a living?" Hanbin's younger sister, Areum, is incredibly shy in his wake. He can tell she mustered up the courage to say this by the way she had been fidgeting and non responsive for several minutes prior.
He smiles brightly at her, as if his true answer would be something meaningful and not chop up the men my boss tells me to.
"I teach kids orchestral instruments." He leaves it vague as possible, due to the fact that he has an inkling she goes to the same school he teaches the kids in question at. It hurts no one if he's not specific.
She hums, shoves her face full of malatang broth, and he's sure that will be the end of the conversation. But Areum is just like her brother—entirely predictable in every way except for their sudden inquiries for more, more, more. Vagueness, he finds, is not taken lightly in this household. It seems to physically pain this family to not elaborate on anything and everything, no matter how mundane the topic.
"Is it at a school?" Hanbin looks up from his own jjigae to share a knowing glance with Zhang Hao, wiping his hands with a napkin and stumbling to gather any words that could stop her from stepping any further than dangerous. "Areum, why don't you tell him about your rock climbing? He's been really interested in mountains lately, said he was really excited to hear from a professional."
Rock climbing and mountain climbing are two different things, but beautiful and bright Hanbin doesn't need to know that.
Squeezing Hanbin's hand under the table, he could easily slip into the illusion that this was real, this family he could be a part of, something Kitae wouldn't be able to take from him no matter how hard he begs.
But the realization that Kitae can take even this from him, these people whose smiles have never meant anything other than kindness, lies in the back of his mind like a snake not yet shed of its skin. It is imminent, painstakingly so at that, and he can only hope that he'll be able to delay the process.
Delay, in this case, can mean a lot of things. The absence of the forever Hanbin is searching for? The life of a loving father who passes Zhang Hao more servings when he notices the light in his eyes from the first taste of Mrs. Han's cooking?
The guilt he drowns in is put on a momentary hold when he goes on about mountains and the places he climbed in high school, his knowledge on Sherpas and the stories his neighbors would tell him from their time at Everest's Base Camp. It's not at all something that Hanbin knew about him—his love for high altitudes, the way it could make him stare into the abyss of death or come out resurrected—but he thanks him for it anyway, knows it will win Areum over a bit too.
"I'm hardly even pro compared to you, oppa. You're so cool! Do you ever plan to go back and try for Everest? Would your old neighbors be up for that?"
They would rather die, he wants to say. They'd think they were seeing ghosts if I went and asked.
But he shrugs and smiles a little, that typical downwards grin. "Maybe one day. For now I just want to stay in Korea."
He is confined here, without the ability to ever go back to the country he was born and raised in. The shackles don't feel any lighter even when sharing memories that were once locked away in a box with the same key; the moment he opens one, another is closed.
Curse those so-called skeleton keys, and curse Yoon Kitae.
The dinner ends shortly after Areum is infodumping about the competition she's been preparing for, Zhang Hao trying to the best of his capabilities to match the energy. She is as much of a burning star as Hanbin is.
He's afraid the closer he gets to this family, the more there is chance of their fire burning out.
₊✩‧₊˚☾˚₊✩‧₊
"What the fuck is this, Neul?"
Jumping at the sudden movement of papers slapped down onto the desk in front of him, Zhang Hao can't find it in himself to look up to meet Kitae's forest fire eyes.
Not anymore—not since Zhang Hao could look into Hanbin's and see a fire that met the intensity of a flame that was his own, one that Kitae could no longer put out if he tried.
But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't terrified that this intensity, too, could die out at any moment. Not by the burning hands of Kitae, but from his own that were cold as ice without the warmth of Hanbin's.
Choosing to ignore Kitae's unkind stare, he gazes upon the stack of photos on the desk. Flipping through them, a cold sense of dread runs through his back and into his skull at the sights.
He is in all of them, out and about in his daily life. Most of them are from club night outs, the other few from the past few weeks he's been in and out of places with Hanbin after work's let out. He's been less discreet about being seen out in public as a man, often basking in a glory that will never be real, not ever again at least.
The consequences alongside being seen as a man include the elephant in the room: he is, in fact, seeing the son of his next target. The target he was supposed to report back on weeks ago.
Kitae had called him today to report a break in the case, yet it is obviously nothing but a trap.
"You've grown feelings, Neul. Feelings come with freedom and I've always thought freedom would do you good, but it seems I need to take a different approach now."
Neul, Neul, Neul. The nickname has always come to be reproached.
Zhang Hao takes a step back, starts to look around for the quickest break, but it is too late now, for Kitae already has an icy cold grip on his arm. The forest fire has become endless frozen pines.
He won't be getting out of this mess so easily.
₊✩‧₊˚☾˚₊✩‧₊
On the first day, Hanbin shrugs it off to be a simple case of Zhang Hao being too busy. He is living two lives in one, after all. Between stalking scum of the earth men and teaching highschoolers, he probably has no time of the day to be mindlessly flirting with him over text.
On the second day, he frowns as he scrolls to the last text he got, one from Monday when Zhang Hao wished him a good morning. He hasn't had a good morning the past two days in a row, but it's not like he's counting or anything.
On the third day he really frowns, really wants to scream and cry because Zhang Hao had plans to go indoor rock climbing at The Climb Hongdaejeom with Areum after school, and he still hasn't texted him since that good morning on Monday.
He can understand Zhang Hao's absence, but how would Areum? She's fell hopelessly in love with the man ever since he opened his mouth to compliment her climbing skills.
Throughout his day he tries distracting himself with all the school work he's let pile up, texting the people in his study group back to let them know he hasn't completely abandoned all hope for his future and that they'd see him on Friday because Lord will he fail these midterms if he doesn't sit his ass down and think about something other than being ghosted by the assassin of his dreams.
When he starts to think all hope of his love life is out the window and he's stepping towards the door to his family's home to announce the doom that is the cancelation of plans, Zhang Hao appears from out of nowhere, out of breath and gripping onto the door handle for dear life.
He seems to always be doing that: wrecking any plans Hanbin thought he'd have, coming in and making it exceptionally better but terrifying all the same.
"I am... so sorry. I broke my phone. And a few bones." There's a cast on his dominant arm and a boot on one leg. He's wearing a denim jacket with one sleeve rolled up—the one with the cast—and the other one down. From the parts of his arm that aren't covered he sees bruises all over it, and if Hanbin hadn't known what to look for, he might've not noticed the ones all over his neck that had been covered with many layers of foundation and concealer.
There is no time to let out the wave of questions in his mind when Areum is rushing to the door with a big grin on her face, donning appropriate attire for someone who's been climbing for ages. She started as a child and, despite only being a senior in high school now, she's been doing it professionally since middle school. Hanbin seriously couldn't be more proud of her.
Areum falls silent upon seeing the sheepish Zhang Hao that is picking at a loose strand on his cast. He looks so lost, lips curved into a pout.
"About climbing... I'm really sorry, Areum-ah.. there was some unforeseeable circumstances. Do you want to do something else or reschedule it?" It's half past five at this point and there's not much that'd be open for them on a school night. Areum clearly knows this, a hesitant smile on her face like she can't tell whether she's allowed to show a hint of disappointment or not.
"No... Oppa, it's really okay. You two can go on a date or whatever instead if you really want to. There's not much else we can do on a school night."
He seems to accept defeat at this, turning to Hanbin. "Do you want to go back to my place, then?" There seems to be a million more sentences swimming in Zhang Hao's eyes that go left unsaid. Hanbin's eyes must also be swimming in them, though he feels now more than anything that he'll be drowning by the time they make it to his apartment if he doesn't let anything out.
The walk to Zhang Hao's apartment is deathly silent. They share glances every few seconds but neither want to be the first to speak. Eventually, Hanbin begins to step closer to him, enough for their fingers to briefly touch. When he glances at the man beside him he catches the downward smile he's grown fond of these past few days, and suddenly everything is okay even when it's not.
The silence is no longer deadly but Hanbin wishes to break it anyway when he begins to hum. It's some song that is always lurking somewhere in the back of his head no matter what he does, one he no longer even remembers the name of. His hums are practically on overdrive until Zhang Hao starts humming it back, reaching his hand over to grasp Hanbin's.
"I have a lot to tell you when we're alone," the man says only above a whisper. It's a reminder that they can't relish in the security of a street full of people, that only in a space locked away from the rest of the world will they be able to breathe.
It's not an incredibly new feeling—locking away true feelings has always been a constant in Hanbin's life, after all. The only new thing is that there is someone else in on the equation, someone whose need for invisibility runs even deeper than his.
It's a lot less lonely, he's noticed, if he gets to hide away with someone else. Like children building a fortress out of pillows, they can pretend enough between the two of them to stay sane in this tragedy in the making.
Maybe they really do need each other. Or maybe Hanbin is just falling insanely in love all too fast.
But he does know what he's getting himself into, or at least he kind of does, so he nods seriously for once in his lifetime. "I assume you aren't going to confess that you're madly in love with me?" He tries to joke in the lightest tone possible, like he's not biting his tongue as he soon as the words roll off of it.
He's not looking at him but he knows Zhang Hao is rolling his eyes, can feel the way his hand tenses against his, hesitating to pull closer when he's been pulled apart, opened up and dissected like a cadaver his entire life and not treated for the breathing entity that he is.
He had been so sure that he'd never understand the entity that is Zhang Hao, someone whose life is no way similar to his, but who is to say that he hasn't been an open book this entire time? One that appears to rely on flashy colors and ever twisting storylines, whose ending is unconventional but no less remarkable?
Hanbin loves books. The way they could send him to places he'd never be able to imagine on his own, or the way they could steal his beating heart out of his very chest and throw away the key.
He's sure Zhang Hao is capable of both these things, but he isn't quite certain that a skeleton key would be able to retrieve this aching heart of his if that were the case.
"I'm madly in love with you, Sung Hanbin," Zhang Hao is saying when they reach his apartment and he is unlocking every possible lock he's installed on the door. He's not even looking at him when he says it, so Hanbin can only focus on the back of the man's head and the way his ears are so red it looks like it hurts.
It's all it takes for Hanbin to stop considering every worry in his brain, to allow himself to bask in the love he never thought he'd be able to feel, for his love has always been a bit too strong for it to be reciprocated at such a familiar intensity by anyone.
He quite frankly doesn't care if it's a joke in the moment, that there's hesitation seeping everywhere in his voice, because there is truth in the way Zhang Hao's lips move against his, truth so good that it must be religious salvation.
Heaven in the way the man's hips buckle up as soon as he gets his hands on them to squeeze, the waist that he rubs until the skin is entirely pink like the tip of his nose and eyes.
"It's so painful," Zhang Hao is whimpering and he's not sure what he's even referring to in the moment but he wants to vanquish it nonetheless, to crush anyone and anything in the way of his happiness: to become an indestructible force that is not human nor resembles an inch of humanity.
He wants to kiss it better, to kiss the scars and the bruises until he can make room for his own—bruises a result of bliss and not gluttonous torture, of which heals and sits pretty atop his collarbones, his stomach and thighs. Anywhere he can leave traces of himself, because he's now certain more than ever that he was missing this man before he even met him.
"Mine, mine, mine." He is gentle with his touch against the still healing bones though ravenous in every other sense, eyes a burning passion he wouldn't be able to recognize if it were staring back into the mirror and not at the current human being who more so resembles an adjacent puzzle piece that fits him in every way that matters.
"Yours, yours, yours," Zhang Hao is chanting, his mantra sounding more like heaven than the hell he's always been believing he'd be met with since the day he came home from school and realized there was something that separated him from everyone around him.
There is so much left unsaid but it doesn't matter. Not yet, at least, when he has Zhang Hao in his arms again, with an unspoken promise etched onto and into every part of his being.
"I love you, too, Zhang Hao."
₊✩‧₊˚☾˚₊✩‧₊
There is an alarm blaring in Zhang Hao's ears at an ungodly hour in the morning. It takes him several moments of wiping his eyes to realize that it's not his own alarm, but rather belonging to the man whose body he is wrapped safely into like his own personal cocoon.
Figuring that this alarm can only mean Hanbin has an actual life that encompasses the time he needs to wake up to, he doesn't allow himself the luxury of lying in his arms for much longer. "Bin-ah," the name rolls off his tongue much easier than he thought it would for someone who has never been one for petnames, "it's time to wake up."
A few mumbles are let out against his skin, Hanbin clutching onto his arm and refusing to let go as if he's a whiny baby and not an adult with an entirely normal life to get back to when he's not pretending like everything is okay with the assassin he's fallen in love with.
Zhang Hao has to stop himself there, lest he spirals into a self-deprecating mood and hates himself for never being able to love Hanbin openly and proudly as one's love should be.
"Seriously, Bin-ah, I don't know what your alarm is for but it must be important." Zhang Hao rolls over to the bedstand to pick up the phone, eyesight still splotchy when he looks at the lockscreen. He has heard too much of Jeong Jaehyun this morning to allow it to play any longer, so he turns it off after he sees that it's titled Text Hao Good Morning.
Oh, right. It's a weekday; Zhang Hao is the one who is supposed to be up this early in the morning, except this time he is not because he's on emergency leave for.... getting hit by a car, as explained by Kitae's goons (masquerading as benevolent distant relatives) to his doctors and principal. He has close to a week off—all unpaid, of course, but with otherwise no detriment to his job. How considerate of Kitae.
In truth, it was quite possibly the most terrifying thing he'd experienced in his life when Kitae threw him against a safe in his office and played his body like a puppet. But it's simply too early in the morning for him to want to relive those moments, so he lets himself lean back into Hanbin once getting the affirmation that his classes had been cancelled for the day.
"Do you have a target right now?" Hanbin seems a little more awake now, bringing his forehead to Zhang Hao's. He resembles a cat in the morning, a hamster any other time in the day.
Zhang Hao ponders how to answer, if he has the right or willpower to. No matter what, he can't keep ignoring the difference in their lives, nor can he keep being reckless after the little taste of freedom that was just as quickly vanquished by Kitae's bare hands.
This insecurity in a relationship he's been in for only the past eight or so hours will be the death of him.
"I have a target, but I do not wish to kill him." Hanbin's brows furrow at this response, shifting his body weight to the side to get a better look at his troubled lover.
"Is he someone I know? Is that why that man hurt you?"
Oh, Hanbin. Beautiful, lovely and considerate Hanbin. Zhang Hao is on his side now, too, caressing the man's face because he seriously looks like he's going to sob. "He thinks love has turned me reckless and incompetent. I disobeyed him, and this is the price."
"That monster broke your fucking bones, Hao. Shouldn't he be more grateful you do his dirty work for him?"
Dirty.
If Zhang Hao and Jang Haneul were one and the same, if he had a choice and still went through with this life, how would Hanbin see him?
Perhaps Zhang Hao did have a choice to leave, to break free from Kitae's reign. Perhaps this was all because he's not strong enough, not brave enough and not witty enough to conquer him. The excuses can't keep getting him by.
Or perhaps, deep down, Zhang Hao is simply no longer the person he thought he was. Maybe he never was.
"I'm going to talk to him," his tone is rushed as he feels, seeping into the final syllables like an unwelcome virus. It's the last of words he can say before he'll burst into tears.
The Hanbin who still doesn't know him as much as he wished he did (for someone knowing him well must mean he can learn to know himself) nods, brushes his bangs out of his eyes to kiss his forehead.
"The bed's cold without you in it, but I guess this is something you have to do even though I'd rather kill him than let you go near him again."
There is a glint in Zhang Hao's eyes that comes from the words I'd rather kill him, but it lasts for such little time he doesn't register it himself.
"I'll be back in a few hours if I can convince him to change targets," he says despite the knowledge that Kitae never goes back on targets, despite knowing that there is likelihood in Hanbin being ripped away from him permanently.
So he goes to his closet, racks out the dress he wore on the first night he took someone's life, and heads off to the Do not enter room to do his hair and makeup.
Hanbin kisses him again on his way out despite being entirely too sleepy to truly process his attire and what he plans to do, but if he were in his right mind Zhang Hao probably wouldn't be leaving his apartment this morning, for he still has ugly bruises decorating one arm and a boot on one leg that looks more ridiculous the longer he looks at it.
The only exception to his look on the first night he took someone's life were the shoes: there is no damn way he's going to be wearing one heel and one boot. Having a little bit of comfort is the only way he's going to get through this, so Kitae better realize that this is the consequence of his own actions.
One more kiss at the door and he is off, limping like an idiot and swiping at the wig's bangs, clutching his purse as a type of stress-reliever. It isn't until he's out of the elevator and walking out of the apartment complex that he lets himself relax, throwing the facade entirely away.
He's lied so much to himself that he's started to believe he's still the same person he was four years ago. He's lied so much to himself that Kitae was always the same Kitae, when he knew firsthand that the same Kitae was the monster and not the replacement of a father he so desperately wanted him to be.
Zhang Hao, before Kitae, had just not woken up to being twisted. When Hanbin calls Kitae a monster, what would that make Zhang Hao? The monster's knife?
As he begins to walk with more intention, more confidence on what this meeting will entail if he can play his cards right, he starts to ponder something.
If a knife begins to stab on its own will, does it even matter anymore who welded it?
₊✩‧₊˚☾˚₊✩‧₊
Contrary to popular and sensationalized belief, hitmen for the black market don't live in particularly interesting mansions with long enough corridors to get lost in after taking two steps.
Or, if this one does, Zhang Hao's never been invited to see it. It's a pity, truly, because the more extravagant of a location his target is in the more fun the kill will be. The whole preparation, really, is the most fun. It's like being an actor in a play you directed yourself, where the only other cast-mate is someone who can't see the backdrop and filming equipment around them.
That doesn't matter, though, because he'll be the sole survivor by the final act.
Final boy. Or girl, because that is what Kitae has molded him into, and Zhang Hao is being everything the man wants and more tonight.
Without a single weapon on him, he has full intention to invade this man's home and leave him for dead.
He no longer shakes at the thought of taking someone's life. It is such a stark contrast to the teenage Zhang Hao whose only thoughts were of taking his own, whose heart would ache at the mere implication of violence.
He has possibly not yet come to terms with the fact that he is deliberately going to kill this man, the man that raised him and molded him into the person he is. But at the same time, it makes perfect sense that the first person he kills without orders is the person whose orders he responds to.
There is the deadly disease of anxiety rushing through his veins at what this means for his future. How he will be free from the shackles, how he can become one step closer to the normalcy Hanbin deserves.
Just as his brother was excited to be Ricky like he'd been waiting his entire life to become someone else, Zhang Hao is entirely too excited at the prospect of that becoming a reality for himself.
He would be skipping on the sidewalks like a schoolgirl if it weren't for that cursed boot of his getting in the way.
Never once stopping to think about the other implications to Kitae's death, he's humming loudly on the train ride to the man's house. It isn't until he's off that he realizes it is the same song Hanbin has been humming every time they are together.
And it isn't until even later, when he's knocking on Kitae's door in their morse code fashion, that he remembers the fact that it is Kitae's favorite song.
₊✩‧₊˚☾˚₊✩‧₊
Hanbin is sure he is the worst boyfriend in the world. No, he knows he must be, because who in their right mind lets their boyfriend go back to negotiate with their abuser only hours after said abuser attempted to truly kill them?
Sung Hanbin, biggest idiot in the world—that's who.
So this is why he, about thirty minutes after Zhang Hao left the house, frantically calls Gyuvin, to then beg him to talk to Ricky because he needs to know where Kitae lives before he passes out from how worried he is.
"How in the fuck did it not cross your mind to dissuade him from going?" Ricky mumbles over the phone but even through the bile Hanbin can detect the fear in his voice. He's the one who knows Kitae the best, after all.
Before he can register what he is doing, Hanbin is grabbing the keys to his Altima—some dingy little thing that is definitely not prepared for what Hanbin has planned to do—and he is out the door with Ricky still on the phone for directions.
But he doesn't leave without calmly making his way toward the room in Zhang Hao's apartment full of torture devices, because he's pretty sure he won't he able to defend his boyfriend and himself with his bare hands.
The machete is the first choice, easy enough to wield without accidentally stabbing himself. Or he hopes, because it's not like Zhang Hao ever taught him how to properly handle sharp objects like this in the few weeks they've known one another.
If they come out of this unscathed, he'd like to imagine how hot it would be for Zhang Hao to teach him how to properly wield a knife, hand on his waist as the blade trails against smooth, cold skin, etching closer toward—
Okay, maybe Hanbin's so fucking insane he'd enjoy a little knifeplay. But by God, is that discovery the least of his worries right now.
"Ricky, is there something Hao's not been telling me about Kitae?" Hanbin starts fidgeting at a red light, his skin prickly and itching him all over. The heat rashes aren't helping, either. If he didn't know any better he would be thinking that it's an allergic reaction, but he knows himself by now to recognize that it is not.
By the time the light turns green, Ricky hasn't spoken a word. The breathing on the other side of the phone is deafening in the car.
"Something happened. Back in China, I mean, and I don't think he wants to talk about it because we don't really talk about China anymore."
The hand on the steering wheel grips even harder than what should seem to be humanely possible, Hanbin's hand a scary shade of red mixed in with the rashes he's all too familiar with.
"I'm going to kill him." There is an unsettling certainty in Hanbin's words, as this is now an epiphany and not a death threat; he has come to a point that it is surprising him even less and less.
He's had more frightening talks with his therapist, if that even matters at this point because he's certain the meetings aren't working if he's come to the point that he thinks his life will be just peachy after killing someone for his no-less-murderous boyfriend.
A boyfriend that he's had for less than twenty four hours, mind you. Love at first sight or whatever the hell is going a long way for him, but who can deny the person whose life has become so intricately intertwined with your own? By choice or by fate, there is nothing keeping him away.
They're not poles brought together, because that would imply there is an inherent difference between the two to intersect them. No, Hanbin is most certain now that there never has been, that the love eating him up has always been waiting to devour his mind and soul in the same way his lover takes the souls of others.
It has him willing to chase and latch onto the entirety of the earth and its occupants, this love he has, if it means there is chance in keeping Zhang Hao in his arms.
This should scare him. Frankly, it does not. He is void of shock and remorse, of what he always assumed would make him more human if he displayed.
But humans are ruthless creatures; they slaughter for thrones, for fun and sport. They have slaughtered for less than Hanbin ever will.
"Take a left at this subdivision," Ricky breaks his thoughts. He's had his camera on the dashboard since they started, lest he goes the completely wrong direction.
It's been a mere twenty minutes and he's as stressed as he was the second he stepped out the door. He's surprised he drives as steady as he does considering the shakiness of his hands never once subsided.
"Keep going straight until the road ends and you'll be at his house, to your right." He breathes properly for the first time in an hour when he sees it. However, he wasn't going to be stupid and park right outside it—he's truly unsure whether or not even his tiny Altima could fit in those nooks and crannies—so he scouts the area a bit to be auspicious as possible before parking beside the giant wall adorning the street-end, then decides to walk the rest of the way.
He sends Ricky his regards then shoves his phone in his pocket, the machete hiding in his hoodie from one end of the long pocket to the other. It's a safety hazard by all means, but it's not like he has any other choice.
The house he is met with is nowhere out of the ordinary; it is entirely the image of any other home you'd see in a poorer subdivision, nothing exactly making it stand out from the other gray-roofed carbon decoys of an 'American dream' in Hongdae.
It's the quietness of the neighborhood that scares him, the darkness of a 7:00 night with no lights on in the neighboring buildings.
He nearly trips down the steps in the last alleyway before Kitae's house. It would be very embarrassing if he died before the attempted murder could be attempted.
Hanbin winces at the thought of the machete in his pocket slicing into him as he rolls down a flight of concrete stairs in typical slasher movie fashion.
What kind of boyfriend would he be if he showed up at Kitae's doorstep in two parts? Not a very sanitary one, he's sure.
Hanbin does a very conspicuous thing once he reaches the door: he rings the doorbell. Then, like a child performing a Halloween prank, he rolls over into a bush conveniently next to the door to remain unseen.
He can hear commotion from inside the house; every blind is drawn, but he can hear his Zhang Hao's cries.
The adrenaline that had got him to this point seems to be wearing off, because his heart completely drops at the sound.
He needs to get in there and torture that bastardoues Yoon Kitae.
Zhang Hao's cries stop as soon as he rings the doorbell for a second time, rushing back into the bush once more.
Boots clack and chains clink as Kitae goes to open the door. When he opens it, Hanbin immediately sees the gash on the man's face. It looked to be from glass; Zhang Hao probably threw something at him. The man glances around in both directions, mutters some cusses in what Hanbin assumes to be Mandarin, and then the door is closed once more. The creek of the door being locked is what dissuades Hanbin from trying go in through the front door, but assassins probably don't just walk in like that.
Hanbin makes his way toward the back door, attempting to hear how far away it is from the living room where Kitae and Zhang Hao were arguing once more. His hands are sweating so much that his grip on the window that seems to be part of the kitchen slips. Praying that it's not locked, he wipes his hands on his sweatpants and gets to moving.
It ends up being unlocked, thank God. Kitae isn't the smartest if he didn't consider the possibility of someone coming in to assassinate him like Hanbin is now. There's even available access to some pretty sharp knives that are definitely not meant for cooking.
Maybe he wants to be murdered.
But getting in through the window is not very seamless or stealthy. There's a sink immediately meeting his elbows and a kitchen counter blocking his ability to softly land his feet, and so he gets his machete out of his hoodie and tumbles in with an earth-shattering thud.
It's an uncomfortable fall, but he gets himself back up and stuffs the machete back into the hoodie so that he can grab one of the 'kitchen' knives. The machete will work as the element of surprise—Kitae will probably think he didn't come prepared so once he has his knife back, his guard will be down.
Hanbin is no trained assassin like Zhang Hao, but he's always been a master in utilizing his hands. As a professional in tutting, wielding a knife doesn't seem to be as difficult as he thought it would. The cool handle calms his nerves as Zhang Hao yelps at the booming resonance of his fall.
Kitae's stomping into the kitchen in an instant. As soon as the man enters his vision, the Zhang Hao slowly trailing behind him does as well. Hanbin reverts his eyes back to Kitae, lest his gazing causes any problems. He's sure that worry would be the only thing clouding his vision at the sight of his beloved.
"And what the fuck might you be doing here in my kitchen?" Yoon Kitae crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. Zhang Hao makes no move to let his presence be known.
Hanbin feels a little embarrassed, if he's being honest. He expected Kitae to be a bristling burly assassin, but he just looks like any other sorry excuse of a middle-aged man going through an existential crisis: he has little to no muscles, his hair line's near receding, and it looks like he had a really difficult time growing a beard. The tattoo sleeve trailing up his arms could maybe amount to something, but even then Hanbin has tattoos too. This felt a little like picking on the elderly.
"I'm here to kill you," Hanbin decides. It doesn't sound as certain as he had hoped it to. It comes out wavering, getting quieter at the end until it could hardly be considered anything but a plea.
He thinks Zhang Hao smiles then, but he's too scared to look at him in fear of finding disappointment glancing back at him.
Zhang Hao had no choice when killing, Hanbin understands that now more than anything. But what would Hanbin be if he makes this calculative decision under no one's orders but his own?
Kitae chuckles at his words. "Put the knife down, Hanbin. It doesn't suit you." Hanbin tries to not let his shock show, but he's never been a good actor. He nearly drops the knife out of fear.
At least he's not entirely shaking and cowering back like a dog with its tail between its hind legs. "No," he shakes his head. "I came here to kill you, and that's that." It dawns on him here that the best thing he can do is be the distraction for Zhang Hao to make the kill. He'll slide him the machete when Kitae thinks he only has the kitchen knife, and it'll be like the movies where the cowardly decoy runs and the secret weapon shines.
But this is real life, not a spy movie. So when Kitae starts walking toward him in an attempt to detain his weapon, logic doesn't seem to course through him. All he can hear is the roaring in his ears and the thumping of his own heartbeat when Kitae's hand gets on the hilt and Hanbin is using his other arm to pull out the machete, maneuvering it forward and driving it deep into Kitae's abdomen until his mind blanks and all he can think of is the lyric—I want blood, guts, and angel cake.
Kitae drops the kitchen knife as he sinks to the floor and here Zhang Hao rushes in, taking the bloodied weapon from Hanbin's shaking hands.
He can't hear anything for a while. He's certain that things are changing around him: Kitae no longer has life in him and Zhang Hao takes a pistol to his head, covering Hanbin's eyes before he makes the shot.
He sees Zhang Hao struggling to fit him around his arms with the lack of a good arm and leg, his bloodied hands as the man washes them for him. He can still see the blood even when it is gone.
He lays lifelessly as Zhang Hao paces around the living room, making phone call after phone call.
He vaguely thinks he makes out the words 'get out of here' but doesn't respond to it or know what it's referring to. He's lying there for hours, or maybe it was only minutes before a few people entered the house and helped lift him up.
Zhang Hao is still with him. His gaze looks troubled—brows furrowed and lips curving into a frown—and Hanbin wishes he could say something, but he can't open his mouth. It's incredibly dry and feels like sandpaper.
He's unsure of what he'd say to assure him, anyway. Now I'm just like you? We can finally be free? The wicked witch is dead?
Whatever he would say wouldn't change the fact that Hanbin is now a killer. The guilt that washes over Zhang Hao must be unbearable.
If they had never met, would this have happened? It certainly could have, Hanbin would think. There were many things that could've led him to snapping on someone without Zhang Hao there to influence him.
But they had met, and this was what had become of them. Two killers without a peaceful life to go back to once the night was said and over with.
Goodnight, Zhang Hao, he wants to whisper when they are back in the man's apartment. Zhang Hao is holding him in his arms. The only thing he knows how to do is sob into his chest.
Hanbin's glad the lights are off because he can't see the blood. It remained dripping on his hands throughout their entire ride home, as to which he didn't remember much else of.
Zhang Hao must know this, must recognize the troubles that plague his mind and refuse to let him free. Hanbin thinks they are the same chains that hold him down, too. That he just adapted to the weight of them as life went on.
Hanbin doesn’t see himself adapting as easily. The word murderer invades his mind as much as freedom does. Maybe he can mold the title into something prideful, something he can wear on his sleeve next to his thumping heart.
For now he holds it close to his chest, so that it can’t get out of its cage. It will grow and prosper there until it is something he can come to terms with. It cannot be let out unless he knows how to handle its weight.
When Zhang Hao kisses his forehead and wipes his tears, he hopes the man can hear it; it is only something short of a promise when it can’t be heard. It is only true devotion when it is.
The grip along his waist tightens as he drifts off to sleep. The shallow breathing of the man he loves is the only thing that reminds him of his own life that could’ve been taken just as easily had the events of the day been slightly different.
Hanbin has never been religious, but he finds himself praying that night. He prays to not meet Yoon Kitae again in hell.
₊✩‧₊˚☾˚₊✩‧₊
They don’t talk about it. It takes two whole days for Hanbin to find his voice again, but he can’t bring himself to talk about what this all means.
He’s certain that he must be failing at least a class or two and his family might be worried beyond sick because he’s been curled up in Zhang Hao’s bed since the day he became a murderer.
He doesn’t allow himself to talk about it and Zhang Hao is anything but forceful, so it instead is the only thing he thinks about. When he opens his eyes every morning he sees Yoon Kitae standing beside the bed with a machete to his abdomen and intestines gushing out of his body. He sees blood, and the machete is now in his hands while the blood is dropping off of it onto the rest of his body.
He takes extra time in the bathroom in the mornings when he washes his body. This is established shortly after the moment he used up all of Zhang Hao’s soap after a deep cleanse before he realized it and had a breakdown when he still saw the blood. Zhang Hao had to come rushing in assuring him that there was nothing there. Hanbin desperately wished that his mind could believe him.
Mirrors are a no now, too. Zhang Hao’s long since covered up any of them in the apartment. The sign warning Ricky to not enter his work room gets taken down as the room begins to be filled with other things. The most notable addition would have to be the corkboard detailing everything about the organization and the moves that the Zhang siblings would have to be making from here on out. So despite there being no Ricky sign on the door anymore, Hanbin’s the one being dissuaded from walking in there.
He feels a bit useless and broken after the first week. Matthew agreed to fill in all his spots for his dance lessons but he felt endlessly guilty for not attending when he couldn’t even give him the real reason—that anytime he saw his reflection he saw the man he killed staring back at him.
It didn’t matter that the man he killed was an awful human being. Not really. He was certain that he’d feel this aching emptiness no matter who it was writhing underneath the knife.
The fact that for a split moment, he enjoyed seeing Kitae’s expression twist into one of utter terror and shock is what weighs in the back of his mind the most. Because if he was happy with that kill, what would it take for him to make another?
“He would’ve killed us otherwise,” is what Zhang Hao says to him on the second week of their cohabitation. It’s the first time that he’s bringing it up and Hanbin’s heart beats uncontrollably when he hears it.
He wants to say, You don’t know that, but it’s unfair. If anyone knew Kitae it was the man that had worked underneath him since he was a teenager. Hanbin chooses to keep his mouth shut because it is a lot safer than lashing out at the only possible person that wouldn’t love him any less for being this broken.
“I was the one who finished him off,” Zhang Hao offers instead when he's met with silence. It’s said over pancakes with bananas formed into smiley faces. Hanbin stabs into one of its eyes and twists the fork around with a frown. “I know that,” he jumps to say. It’s accusatory without meaning to so he coughs before continuing. “It’s just hard believing you’re the same person as you were before you took part in taking someone’s life. I can’t even look at myself without having a breakdown.”
“It never does get easier,” Zhang Hao agrees with a pout. He’s just picking at his food as well, appetite probably long gone. They never eat full meals these days between the two of them. It’s gotten especially worse since Zhang Hao quit his job. “I don’t really see myself as the same person, either. I can hardly get upset with you saying that about yourself when I know I think the same thing about myself. It’d make me a hypocrite.”
Hanbin smiles for the first time in two weeks. “Well, that makes two of us because I get upset knowing you blame yourself for things you can’t control.”
Zhang Hao looks up at him with such fondness he is stunned. Hanbin’s positive there’s no reason for him to be this fond of him. “Hanbin-ah, I fell in love with you ten times over when you foolishly slid into that man’s kitchen to protect me. It may be selfish of me to be saying this, but I’m glad you stabbed him. No one else in the entire world would do that for me.”
Hanbin starts to tear up. “But why? You deserve happiness and love. It’s not your fault Kitae did this to your family. You were left with no choice and did what you thought was the best for you and Ricky. If the rest of the world had offered you just an inch of kindness, maybe things would have been different.”
Zhang Hao is crying, too, as he stands up to crash into Hanbin’s arms. “But why would the rest of the world matter to me now, Hanbin-ah, when I have you?”
There is no fixing the ghosts that haunt either of them; they will remain lurking for the rest of their lives. But making amends with them for the time being seems to be the best they can do with the cards they have been dealt.
It may take months or even years to stop seeing Yoon Kitae’s ghost, the one that remains staring back at him every time he glances into the mirror. But Zhang Hao is there right beside him to ward him off, to take his hand to steady him.
Hanbin’s sure the race to Zhang Hao’s true freedom will be strenuous without any clear sight of the finish line, but they can at least know that they won by finding one another in a world that wasn’t made for them. One who loves too much and one who has to be loved to feel like he's worthy of anything.
“Before you came along, I never had anyone that wanted to wrap me back up,” Zhang Hao says one day after coming home from tying another loose end in the fight to get his identity back. His knuckles are bloody and Hanbin refuses to ask him what he did to get them like that. Instead, he takes the first aid kid that stays in their now shared room and gets to work with disinfecting and gently wrapping them in gauze.
Once he is done, he lays a kiss on Zhang Hao’s hand. The man turns to face him with a silly look on his face. Hanbin wants to kiss that too, but he relents to waiting for his beloved to finish speaking.
“More than just wrapping me up, I’d say you saved my life.”
Zhang Hao is dazzling, shining differently from the night he met him at Orca. Hanbin thinks the beauty of falling in love with someone like him is that he never loses that glow; even on nights where it’s not at its brightest, he could still recognize it out of anything else in the world.
“You saved mine more than you can ever imagine, Zhang Hao.”
And he says his full name like this because he can, because it’s no longer a secret they have to keep between them. He wants to shout it from rooftops as much as he wants to proclaim their love to the world. He wants Zhang Hao to be known as the loveliest person in the world, the brightest of stars. He may have thought that he would force Hanbin into his world of darkness, but only from the depths of the abyss can the most shining of stars be found.
Hanbin crawled down the mire to find Zhang Hao there, and now he has returned him to his home. But it wasn’t just his—it was theirs, forever as long as the stars would burn for them.
Stars don’t fall far from their sky, after all.