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“Congratulations on becoming the top selling host three months in a row.”
Yeonsu looks up from where he’s sitting, surrounded by bottles and his men, who look shocked at his appearance. They scramble to stand up, trip over themselves to turn around and bow, while his Yeonsu stays seated, only inclining his head.
“Thank you, hyungnim.”
A casual wave of his hand sends his subordinates away, shuffling backwards, one hitting a table in his commitment to etiquette. It would be admirable if it didn’t look fucking idiotic. Yeonsu stands up when everyone has left this corner of the host club.
“How was Seoul?”
“Boring.” He shrugs off his leather jacket and Yeonsu takes it from him. “Mostly meetings I couldn’t care less about.”
“Did you do anything fun?”
“I went to a gallery opening.” Yeonsu raises his eyebrows slightly. “You’re right, that wasn’t fun. Get me a drink.”
Yeonsu bows and Joon-gi sinks into the dent he’s left behind on the couch. There are empty glasses on the other tables, but his subordinates are starting to clean up the messes left behind from a busy night at Club Angel. He takes off his baseball cap and puts it on the table, and checks the wall-length mirror for any stray hairs. He’d spent less than twenty minutes in his apartment before deciding to spend a night with his favorite whiskey and host. Yeonsu returns with his favorite bottle of whiskey, and expertly pours him two fingers in an awaiting glass. He gently sits down next to him without being prompted.
“How did things go here, except for our winning streak being continued?” The whiskey hits him first with the aroma of freshly baked bread, anise and lavender. His tongue is titillated by apples, white pepper, and jam, before turning into herbiness and toffee, alcohol burning down his throat.
“—boyfriend found out where most of her money is going, so last Thursday was her last day here.”
“We don’t really need women who can’t spend money here anyway, mumyeong, and nosy boyfriends are always too much trouble. Have you tried this whiskey already?”
Yeonsu makes a sound that is unmistakably a sigh, but that can’t be right. He must be imagining things. “Yes, hyungnim, when the bottle first arrived.”
“Then get yourself a glass. I want to hear your opinion again.” Another sigh, but he’s had enough. Perhaps three weeks was too long. “No, stay here.” He raises his voice. “Leave, everyone.”
His men glance at him, but obediently leave the main room of the club. Yeonsu is starting to look a lot less confident. Good.
“What is going on with you, Yeonsu.” Avoiding eye contact, at least that’s somewhat familiar. “I’m starting to think you don’t enjoy me being back.”
His eyes snap up at that. “Of course I’m glad you’re back, hyungnim.”
“Is that so.”
“Yes.”
His voice is clear and so are his eyes. He’s not lying. Joon-gi lets his eyes wander across Yeonsu’s face. Thin black eyeliner, slight glitter in the corners of his eyes, a constellation of beauty marks, stress lines on his forehead and a tightness around his mouth. His hair is neat, the silver ash looking blue in the lights of the club. “Tired?”
Down his eyes go, eyelashes fanning across the bags under his eyes. “Yes.”
He takes another sip of his whiskey and puts the glass back on the table. “That’s not a reason to be rude.”
“I deeply apologize.”
Ah, he looks so pretty, he can never stay mad at him for too long. “It’s fine, Yeonsu-ya, I forgive you.”
“Thank you, hyungnim.”
Yeonsu still hasn’t looked up, so it’s Joon-gi’s turn to sigh. He moves his hand over to the baseball cap still on the table, putting it on Yeonsu’s head instead, and pulling it down over his eyes.
“Hyungnim!”
He can’t help but laugh at Yeonsu ripping off the cap and desperately trying to fix his hair. “I don’t expect you to be happy all the time, but don’t be so bratty when it’s the first time you’ve seen me in nearly a month.” Yeonsu finally looks at him again, now with a slight glint of something else in his eyes. Joon-gi reinforces it by grabbing his chin. “It makes me think you’re planning something, and I know you know how people end up.”
He can sense Yeonsu desperately trying to nod. “I know.”
“If I didn’t trust you this much, I wouldn’t have let you leave.” Alive, he leaves unsaid, and spots the missing word in Yeonsu’s eyes. “Now, let’s go home, you can wear my jacket, there’s a facemask in the inner pocket.”
Yeonsu relaxes in his hand like a puppy, but there’s a hesitance to his voice. “I’ll get the jacket, hyungnim.”
“Be quick,” he releases Yeonsu’s chin and stretches his arms. “You look like you need sleep.”
Yeonsu blinks his pretty eyes and leaves the couch, quickly walking towards his office. Joon-gi takes another sip of whiskey and eyes the other bottles on the table. Gaudy, expensive, shiny, and tasting like shit you’d buy at a Poppo’s. Just like the hosts working at his clubs. Huh. It gives him an idea.
“Hyungnim, what are you doing?”
He pours out the last drops of booze from the silver-winged bottle into a plain one. “Matching looks and taste, of course. Give that one to Tae-gyun. It’ll make him feel special.”
A sigh comes from Yeonsu’s general direction, but when he looks up the expression he sees behind the mask isn’t tired or annoyed, it’s something much softer. He rolls his eyes and pours the whiskey into the expensive bottle instead.
“There, now it’s more fitting to me.” The wings reflect the mirrors around them. “Pack up the Faberge egg too, put it with the rest.”
“Of course, hyungnim.”
He watches silently as Yeonsu relaxes his shoulders and follows his orders. Perhaps this is what he’s supposed to do, but…
No. He can’t allow himself to think of that.