Chapter Text
The Porsche purrs as Donghyuck waits in the driveway for the garage door to fully open. He places his hand on the dashboard to feel its hum, as the surround system blasts K-pop, screaming his lungs off to it.
The automatic gate behind him slides shut, just as the entrance ahead of him fully opens. He manoeuvres the car around the three-tiered marble fountain, and pulls into the Porsche's allocated slot.
There are car garages with one or two spots, and then there are car garages that look more like a sales yard. Tesla, Ferrari, Lamborghini, Buggati, Rolls Royce. Rows upon rows of cars line either wall, and Donghyuck drives the Porsche into its turntable with ease. The door swings up vertically as he steps out, and shuts automatically when he locks it over his shoulder.
“Hi baby,” he greets the sleek, charcoal Aston Martin, patting her hood. “Miss me?”
He blows the car a kiss, then adjusts the lapel of his jacket, kicking the light switch by the door as he heads up in the elevator to the rest of the house. He feels like James Bond every time he does this shit, and it never gets any less fantastic.
Whistling the same K-pop song to himself, which deforms into comedic, operatic belting, Donghyuck kicks off his shoes, then claps so that the hallway lights switch on. The chandelier overhead illuminates the entrance parlour, reflecting warm, golden light off of the polished floors. It’s all done in the modern style, with sleek, chocolate leather couches and a black marble fireplace. Donghyuck wiggles his socked toes into the white, alpaca wool rug as he tosses his jacket over the back of the couch, and makes his way into the kitchen.
“Hey google~” he sing-songs, “turn on the kitchen light.”
The smart house responds accordingly, and the fridge screen displays a big smiley face to welcome him home. At the sound of his entrance, the cats come running in from their catio, sitting at his feet to meow.
“Hi honey,” he tells the house, piling glass jars of bone broth into his arms, shuffling them onto the Italian granite counter. Footsteps thud down the staircase at the sound of his voice, and Donghyuck assumes it’s another one of the cats.“I’m—”
There’s a stranger in the kitchen.
“—Home.”
Donghyuck drops a jar of bone broth.
There’s a stranger in the kitchen, in lingerie, and he and Donghyuck stare at each other for a long, silent moment as the cats leap at the opportunity to lick the floor.
He’s thin, and a little shorter than Donghyuck. His skin is smooth, hairless, and adorned in lacey crimson lines of fabric. They crisscross over his chest in a makeshift corset that accentuates his tiny waist, attached to thigh garters and sheer stockings.
The stranger screams.
Donghyuck screams.
“Oh my god you’re not—” He scrambles behind the kitchen counter, ducking to hide his body. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Director Kim’s assistant!” Donghyuck squeaks, looking down at the spilt broth, then the cats surrounded by glass shards, then the little tuft of brown hair that peeks over the counter. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were here.”
“What are you doing here?” the boy hisses.
“He asked me to move the Porsche for him,” Donghyuck excuses. “And feed his cats?”
The little head pops up over the counter to narrow its eyes at Donghyuck.
“I could’ve done that,” he grumbles.
“He probably didn’t want you to waste your time with it…”
“Stop staring.”
“I can’t even see anything!”
The eyes go impossibly narrower, and the boy says, “Shouldn’t we clean that up?”
“Uh. Fuck.” Donghyuck looks down at the mess around his feet, seeping into his socks. He fumbles for a minute, before dashing into the living room to retrieve his jacket. It’s leather, the type of nice thing Donghyuck had spent months saving up for, with the sort of money Director Kim blows his nose on. “Here.”
The stranger regards the offer warily, but snatches it out of Donghyuck’s hands nonetheless. There’s the rustling of leather, then he tentatively stands with his hands on either half of the zipper, holding it taut across his narrow chest. It hangs down to his thighs, so it does little to hide the garters. Donghyuck can’t believe the guy is so narrow that his own clothes look broad on him; Donghyuck is the width of a toothpick that got a little fucked up in manufacturing.
“Thanks,” the guy mumbles, ears bright red. “You’re still staring.”
“Sorry.” Donghyuck forces his eyes away, and tiptoes around the mess of glass, liquid, and hungry cats for the dustpan and brush under the kitchen sink. He crouches to sweep up the sopping shards of glass, nudging a cat away every two seconds with the handle of a brush until they get agitated enough to scamper somewhere else. Once most of the glass is clear, he pulls out a roll of paper towel to mop up the mess. The stranger decides to help by picking up each cat to herd them into the catio and locking the cat flap, then crouches over to sweep up some of the glass Donghyuck has missed.
“Sooo,” Donghyuck starts conversationally. His hands reek of bone marrow and fat. “You’re the new sugar baby, eh?”
“Do we need to have this conversation?” the guy deadpans. Donghyuck glances over. “Stop looking.”
“Sorry.”
The automatic trash can opens to let him sweep the shards inside. Donghyuck sneaks a glance at the stranger’s soft thighs before pointedly staring at the floor.
“I like your lingerie,” he offers.
“Please stop talking.” The stranger scrubs his face, smudging some of his glittery makeup. Pretty. He’s so pretty. “I need to die.”
“I’ve seen worse, really,” Donghyuck consoles.
“Really,” the stranger says in disbelief. The top of his hair is brown, but the underside is platinum blonde. It frames his narrow face in a unique way Donghyuck can’t stop noticing.
So pretty.
“Yeah totally. At least you’re not naked or like, in the bath or something.” Which has happened to Donghyuck with most of the men and women his boss has been chewing through since divorcing his wife. “Man, someone should arrest me for accidental voyeurism.”
The stranger snorts. This, too, is pretty, laughing behind a bruised hand as Donghyuck grins at him. He can feel the awkward tension diffusing, despite the fact that a nameless, beautiful boy is pantless in Donghyuck’s jacket, and not for the reasons he’d usually fantasise about.
His laugh tapers out, and he watches Donghyuck for a quiet moment behind his hand.
“You’re staring again.”
“Sorry!” Donghyuck squeaks, and mops up broth with more vigour. “It’s just, habit, you know. When you talk to someone you want to make eye contact.”
“You weren’t exactly looking at my eyes,” the stranger mumbles, then sighs. “Let me go put on some pants. Then I can help you better.”
“I don’t know, I kinda like this,” Donghyuck jokes, unable to help himself. “It’s like a test of resolve. Real Eve and the apple style.”
“Primordial lust?” The stranger arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “She did fail that test.”
“Well.” Donghyuck swallows. His mouth feels dry. “Bad joke?”
The stranger rolls his eyes, but huddles further into the jacket as he pads upstairs. Donghyuck feels dizzy, looking down at the wad of paper towel that’s already completely soaked through. Just how much liquid can be contained in one tiny mason jar? He sighs to himself, thudding his head against a cabinet for his pathetic social skills in front of half-naked pretty boys, and stands.
By the time a modicum of his composure is back, the stranger has returned in pyjama pants with hems that drag along the floor, and an oversized tee. It’s white, so Donghyuck can still see faint crimson lines through the fabric where he hasn’t bothered to take the lingerie off. He pointedly averts his gaze as the guy holds out his leather jacket.
“Here. Thanks for that.”
“No worries. You looked a little chilly.”
“Very funny.” The guy rolls his eyes, tearing off a line of paper towel. “The floors are heated.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Donghyuck sighs dreamily, and the guy laughs. Pretty. He crouches down to help soak up the mess. “You really don’t have to help with this, you know. It’s my fault.”
Narrow shoulders shrug.
“I’m the one that scared you.”
“Which was an accident. It’s cool.” Donghyuck crouches down, and their faces meet. He’s still unfairly put-together for such a comfortable look, with glittery eye-makeup and careful contour, hair braided on one side and styled to hang soft and pretty around his face. “I’m Donghyuck, by the way.”
Donghyuck outstretches a damp, broth-covered hand. The stranger stares at this until he withdraws it.
“Oops.”
“Renjun,” Renjun offers. “Nice to meet you, I guess?”
“Top ten first impressions of all time, for sure,” Donghyuck jokes. Two pairs of hands make quick work of the mess. He gets rid of the last of the paper towel as Renjun fills the sink with hot, soapy water to run a sponge over the remaining film. “No seriously, I can do that.”
“It’s fine.” Renjun pushes up his sleeves.
“No like, bossman will kill me if I let you dirty your knees.” Donghyuck reaches for the sponge, and Renjun laughs.
“I think he likes it when I dirty them,” he rebuffs, which makes Donghyuck freeze in place, blinking. “What? Too far?”
“Uhh…” Donghyuck does a very poor job of preventing his eyes flicking down to Renjun’s chest, and the way the fabric gathers over the lines of material underneath.
“You’re failing the test.”
“Sorry!” Donghyuck stands and holds a dirty hand over his eyes. “I should be put down.”
“All men are scum,” Renjun recites sagely. “Except me.” He laughs. “You don’t have to cover your eyes, come on.”
A warm, pretty, bruised hand wraps around Donghyuck’s wrist to tug it down, and then they stare at each other. This close, Donghyuck can smell Renjun’s perfume, sweet like chocolate with a pinch of sea salt.
“...What happened to your hand?” Donghyuck blurts. Renjun’s touch withdraws and leaves goosebumps in its wake.
“Birthmark,” Renjun answers, eyes curving as he smiles. “What happened to yours?”
“Huh?” Donghyuck looks down and notices a light cut across his index finger. “Shit.”
“You should be more careful around glass,” Renjun chastises. “Wait here. I’ll get the first aid kit.” Renjun pauses, pouting. “Which is…”
“Laundry,” Donghyuck offers. Renjun returns in moments with a small plastic tub, pouring out disinfectant onto a cotton ball. “Really, it’s a tiny cut. I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that. Should I just let you bleed out?”
Bleed out? Like Donghyuck had even noticed the sting of it. Renjun huffs his bangs out of his face, and Donghyuck can’t help but think, cute.
“Am I on my deathbed, doc?”
“Very funny. Just let me help you. Like I said, it’s my fault.”
“It really isn’t. It was an accident.” Renjun’s touch is featherlight and unsure of itself, dabbing at the wound with the cotton ball. “If anything, it’s my fault for being scum. Maybe if I wasn’t a horrible man ruled by the whims of my lust and greed…”
“Do you ever stop talking?”
“Not really. It gets even worse around pretty boys.” Renjun looks at him. “Which I say in a totally objective way, since you’re my boss’ sugar baby. Haha.” Renjun keeps looking. “Objective like, objective truth and not objectification. By the way.”
“Shut up.”
“Good idea.”
Renjun finishes cleaning the wound by rubbing salve in, then wrapping a hello kitty bandaid around the tip.
“All out of Cinnamoroll? He’s my favourite.”
Renjun shakes the box, looking into it with one eye open and the other shut, like a telescope.
So cute.
“Sorry, only Kuromi and Pompurin.”
“Damn it.” Director Kim’s youngest daughter does always fight with Donghyuck about this, the few times a year he sees her. “Not even My Melody? And I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.”
“If you’d like, I have some lingerie you can borrow,” Renjun offers. “Your boss will be home soon. He can walk in on you like that.”
“Yeah that’s super generous, but I think I’ll disappear off of the face of the earth before he gets back.” Donghyuck glances at the pricey modern art clock above the fridge, and realises that it’s so artsy he can’t tell the time. Renjun’s ears are still red; he’s sensitive to his own embarrassment. How cute. “Really, Renjun, dude, it’s fine. I’m his assistant. I deal with all his dirty laundry. Literally. When you need the cum stains washed out of all that lace and satin, I’ll be the guy hauling it to the dry cleaners, so like, no point in getting embarrassed about it. This is my job.”
Renjun shuts his eyes for a long moment, then sighs, clicking the first aid box shut.
“I don’t know how you’re so normal about this.”
“I don’t know if anyone would use that word to describe me, but thank you.” Donghyuck flutters his eyelashes. Renjun isn’t the first Director Kim’s long line of playthings, and he likely won’t be the last. Donghyuck has terrible foot-in-mouth syndrome, but it’s not bad enough to voice that. “Just think of us as like, coworkers,” he offers.
“Coworkers,” Renjun repeats in disbelief.
“Yeah! Same boss, same payroll.” Donghyuck rubs the back of his neck, beginning to pile raw meat and vitamin supplements into each porcelain bowl, painted with every cat’s name on its side. “I should probably complain to HR about unfair wage differences though.”
Renjun laughs.
(Pretty. So pretty. Donghyuck wants to make him laugh until the world ends, which is both achievable and normal to want.)
“You should. You probably work much harder than I do.”
“I dunno about that, I mean. I don’t have to get naked.” He carefully spoons in bone broth. “The emotional toll is lower.”
“It’s not much of a toll if you enjoy it,” Renjun counters, then gets shy. “Sorry. T-M-I.”
“No that’s great news. I’ve always wanted to know if my boss is proficient in the sack.”
“Have you, Donghyuck?”
The deep, familiar sound of Director Kim’s voice causes Donghyuck to fumble the jar in his hands, nearly knocking it clean off the counter. It’s saved by Renjun’s reflexes; he catches it just in time.
“Boss!” Donghyuck cheers, leaning on the counter faux-casually. Renjun steadies the jar back over the edge. “What’s up?”
Director Kim looks unimpressed, but there’s an amused curve to his handsome mouth. He’s a good looking guy for someone in his late fifties, and Donghyuck has always thought that, but it still makes his skin crawl to see a hand press at the small of Renjun’s back.
“I see you’ve met Renjun,” the Director says, pressing a kiss to the top of Renjun’s head that makes him preen. He looks up at the old man like he hung the stars in the sky, and Donghyuck can feel his stomach plummet straight through them. “Donghyuck didn’t scare you too much, did he?”
“Not at all. He was just teaching me how to feed the cats.” The charm Renjun lays on is thick, so different to the hot-and-cold boy Donghyuck had been chatting to in the kitchen moments prior. “Next time just ask me to do that, ‘kay?”
“Don’t I ask you to do enough?” Director Kim smiles knowingly as his hand drags up Renjun’s spine, feeling out the dips and rivulets of the fabric underneath. Donghyuck wants to throw up. “Besides, Donghyuck is used to it, aren't you?”
He looks up with a taut smile.
“Yessir.” It goes tauter. “I was bringing the porsche back anyway. It’s no bother —you know I love the kitties.”
“He’s been my slave for far too long,” Director Kim explains. “I keep telling him to take a vacation, but he never does.”
“I’m waiting for the right time of year,” Donghyuck argues. They go through this every other week, but the workload is always too much to find the right time. “Besides, your cats would starve without me.”
“Very true.” The Director laughs, deep and warm-bellied, and Renjun joins him. Pretty and musical and breathy. “I’d fall apart without you too.”
“Also true.” Donghyuck grins, then sees his boss’ hand still smoothing over Renjun’s back. “Let me get out of your hair for the night. It’s late.”
“I’ll call you an Uber back,” the Director offers, because he’s always considerate like that, pulling out his phone and inputting Donghyuck’s address. It’ll be the fancy kind of Uber, because it always is. “Actually, while we’re here— Donghyuck, why don’t you give Renjunnie your number in case he needs something?”
“Really?” Donghyuck’s eyebrows raise, surprised. Donghyuck has met (accidental or otherwise) most of his boss’ arm candy, but very few of them have earned what Director Kim calls Donghyuck Privilege™. For the most part, his sugar daddying business is kept far away from his assistant, save for the occasional crossover. “Uh, sure.”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother you,” Renjun insists. “I’m sure you have enough on your plate.”
“It’s only for emergencies. If you can’t get through to me, Donghyuck is my right hand man. He can keep you updated on everything —like tonight. I didn’t even think about you two crossing paths. My mind is all over the place.”
“Happens in old age,” Donghyuck jokes, which earns his boss grunting. He laughs, and hands out his phone to Renjun. “You heard the man. I’ll end up organising all your dates anyway, so give me your details and I can link to your calendar.”
“I’m not that hopeless, am I?”
“Another symptom of old age.” Renjun still hasn’t taken the phone. “Go on.”
Renjun sighs, but types in his number and email address, leaving his contact as a simple Renjun Huang.
“Great,” Director Kim says. “The uber’s nearly here. Donghyuck are you okay to—”
“You’re a terrible boss, making me wait outside in the cold for a minute.” Donghyuck pouts, grabbing his jacket off the granite counter. “I shan’t forgive you.”
“I’ll make it up to you somehow,” Director Kim deadpans, making Donghyuck cackle.
“It was nice meeting you, Renjun,” he offers, outstretching a now-clean hand. Renjun’s smile seems genuine. His hands are small, and soft, his nails well-manicured, but his grip is firm.
“You too.”
Donghyuck lets the cats in, then shows himself out through the double timber doors. The uber is already by the curb, so he opens the back door and helps himself to the single mentos in the centre console.
“Got a sugar daddy or what?” the driver asks, eyeing the street lined with mansions.
“Something like that.” Donghyuck puts his palm on his cheek and sighs.
Pulling out his phone, he thumbs over to Renjun’s contact and types, I’ll give you a five minute warning next time I’m heading over.
The message stays on sent for the rest of the car ride home. Right, Renjun is… probably busy right now. Donghyuck buries his chin in the collar of his jacket to ignore how it smells like Renjun’s perfume, sweet and a little salty.
If Donghyuck compiled a list of the worst bosses he’s ever had, Director Kim wouldn’t make the cut.
He probably wouldn’t make the list of the most mediocre bosses either, because he’s a great boss. Donghyuck gets paid time off, his own desk, private health insurance, an above average salary, and gets to fly around the world in business class —sometimes.
It’s just that being treated like employee royalty means acting like it, so when his boss is stuck in the office, and has a thousand things that need to be done before tomorrow morning, that’s what an assistant is for.
That’s why Donghyuck has to move cars around, pick up dry cleaning, feed cats, and bump into pretty boys in lingerie.
“Dude,” Mark tells him, “when are you going to quit?”
“Uh, when someone else starts paying me twenty percent pension,” Donghyuck rebuffs, fucking around with Director Kim’s email calendar on one monitor, while the other is black and white from the League death screen.
“It’s a Saturday. Why are you working, man? That’s how capitalism gets you.”
“Then capitalism has me.” Donghyuck’s reward for late-night cat feeding had been paid-for lunch on Friday from a bougie cafe down the street, and a small bottle of Jo Malone cologne. Donghyuck loves his boss, seriously. “Can you even fathom what it’s like to be that rich? Money can buy everything, Mark, poor people just pretend it isn’t true.”
“Ugh, whatever dude.” Mark exits Donghyuck’s room grumbling, which makes Donghyuck roll his eyes. He’s a total hippy communist, because he’s studying a masters in literature, and is like every other college kid with rich parents who has the privilege to afford lofty ideals.
Donghyuck is a little more realistic.
He fixes the calendar clash with a can we reschedule this meeting? email just as his character revives. They lose the game, but that’s typical for League, and Donghyuck is so distracted by watching Outlook he completely forgets to glance at the horrible slur-filled things his teammates are saying about him in the game chat.
Enough of that. He needs to focus on work, because Director Kim has a gala next week, and the tailors still haven’t finished his suit. Donghyuck should call them —they’re open on Saturdays. Maybe a little teary-eyed speech about how his boss will kill him for being a fuck-up will get them a little more motivated.
Nothing like good old emotional manipulation, even if Director Kim has never blamed Donghyuck for anything going wrong, ever. That’s what makes him such a good boss —he knows Donghyuck works his goddamn hardest, and that trust reinforces Donghyuck’s need to prove him right.
They’re a team. Seriously. Every boss-assistant pair at Phantasm had to do a three-legged race at the fundraiser last year, and they won by a landslide. Minjeong, who PAs for the Head of Strategy and Planning, hasn’t stopped resenting Donghyuck for it all year. Director Kim had him send a bouquet to her desk for her birthday, and it made her hate them more, because Director Kim is thoughtful like that, and Donghyuck has the taste to accentuate his intentions.
Was applying to be a PA a joke Donghyuck never saw coming to fruition? Yeah, but he’s surprised by how much he enjoys it. He loves meeting new people to utilise his good charm and memory, and he likes being rewarded for it. He loves the puzzle of scheduling, and the business aspect of everything. Not only is Donghyuck integrated into administrating his boss’ work, but there’s part of his brain that has to understand it, too. He has more experience in running the finance department of a multimillion conglomerate than most people his age, that’s for sure.
His phone buzzes, and Donghyuck reaches over for it even though he knows he shouldn’t.
Renjun reacted to your message.
The ‘Haha’ react response, two days later, as if Renjun had agonised about how to respond, but couldn’t bear to leave Donghyuck on read.
Why is that so cute?
On Monday, Donghyuck dumps a freshly tailored suit on his boss’ desk.
“Waterworks gets ‘em every time,” he declares proudly.
“You’re terrible,” Director Kim informs him. “Why do you work on your days off?”
“Like I’m gonna take that from you? I could see you online, you know. You work, I work.”
“Remind me to file a raise for you.” Director Kim laughs. “Did you enjoy your weekend?”
“Eh. It was fun.” Donghyuck usually plays games or hangs out with friends, but so much of his brain is consumed by work these days, he finds it hard to turn it off. If he isn’t being productive he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and it’s a lot easier to organise an email calendar than it is to clean a bathroom shared by two men who both shave daily. “How about you?”
“Renjun and I went sailing, the weather was perfect for it.”
“Oh. Did he enjoy that?”
“I think so. He’s a hard man to read.” Director Kim chuckles, low in his chest. “I suppose that’s what I like about him.”
“Uh-huh.” Donghyuck has never shown any reaction to his boss dating people half his age, and he isn’t going to start now. He knows Director Kim likes his relationships to be business, because it makes them easier to control. NDAs, contracts, wages. He gets a pretty thing to play with like a doll, and they get financial security, and get to be spoiled. His wife left him enough of a wreck to never do commitment again, and Donghyuck actually respects that about the guy. Being a sugar daddy used to be a meme to him, but Donghyuck now views it as a respectable line of work. Better these poor, young people get paid, instead of getting emotionally manipulated, or whatever the fuck Leonardo Di Caprio is up to. “He didn’t strike me as the outdoorsy type.”
“You’d be surprised. He has many layers.”
Donghyuck wouldn’t, not really. He’d felt all of them in their one brief meeting, unnerved by the sensation that Renjun Huang is more than he appears. The red, hard skin of an apple compared to the sweet, pale flesh beneath. Donghyuck wants to peel him with something sharp.
“Where’d you two meet?”
“Through that Arts program my ex-wife signed me up for, you know that one?” Donghyuck nods; of course he does. He’s the one that has to send the cheques to them monthly, but that’s the sort of detail Director Kim overlooks. It’s what he hires Donghyuck for. “I’ve been sponsoring him for quite some time without having met him. He’s a ballet dancer at the National Company.”
“That’s prestigious. He must be really good.”
“Like nothing I’ve ever seen.” Director Kim’s eyes go wistful, and he sighs. “Ah well, enough old man rambling. How’s your love life?”
“What love life?” Donghyuck laughs. “I’m busy with four cats. And they’re not even mine.”
“Very funny.” Director Kim scoffs. “This is why it’s important for you to take time off and not work on the weekends. You need to start thinking about a family. At your age, I was already engaged.”
“How’d that work out for you?” A pen gets thrown at Donghyuck’s head. “Ow! Abuse! Abuse! Someone call HR!!”
“Oh shut it.” Donghyuck laughs. “Work isn’t everything, Donghyuck. If I could go back in time to undo all this to be with my family, I would.”
The sudden seriousness surprises Donghyuck.
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because it’s far too late. And I’m a greedy man.” Director Kim laughs. “Once you’ve tasted something this good, it’s very hard to stop eating it.”
Donghyuck knows how that goes, too.
“I’ll think about it,” he says wryly. “But I still want that raise.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Director Kim moves the dry cleaning off of his desk, and picks up his pen. “Get back to work.”
“Sir yes sir!”
Donghyuck is prepared for the gala to go like it always goes: Donghyuck stands by Director Kim’s shoulder to whisper names into his ear, and takes notes on his iPad in the nicest suit he owns —also bought for him by Director Kim, naturally. He’ll get an allowance of one (1) glass of champagne even though it’s a work night, but can have as many hors d’oeuvres as he wants.
Except when the driver picks him up to take him to Director Kim’s mansion, Donghyuck had completely disregarded the thought of a date. Director Kim always parades around someone young and gorgeous as a status of his power, but rarely at work events.
Renjun is beautiful. That’s the only way Donghyuck can think to describe him the second time around. Two-toned hair slicked back, and waist absolutely snatched in the most perfectly tailored black suit. The shirt beneath is a gentle cream with lace trim, and his neck, fingers, and wrists are adorned in silver Cartier to accent it. Director Kim is a head taller than Renjun, but Renjun makes him look like the side piece, and not the other way around.
Donghyuck’s mouth is dry.
“C’mon love birds,” he groans. “We’re already late.”
“Coming.” Renjun jogs down the front steps of the house, and Donghyuck opens the car door for him. He smiles shyly. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Donghyuck is the last one to pile in, and takes the seat with his back to the partition, while Renjun nestles into Director Kim’s chest opposite him. He keeps shooting wary glances Donghyuck’s way, so Donghyuck starts a Fruit Ninja game on his iPad to look like he’s doing work and doesn’t care.
Because he doesn’t; Renjun isn’t the first twenty-something old to hang off of his boss’ arm like he’s the guy who invented Christmas. Director Kim pops open a bottle of champagne, but Donghyuck saves his allowance for the actual gala.
Some of it bubbles over the bottle lip onto Director Kim’s fingers, which Renjun happily licks off.
“I’m right here, you know,” Donghyuck drawls. They pull apart as if burnt, and he scoffs. “I hope you won’t act like this at the event.”
“Of course not. Sorry Donghyuck, you know I get too comfortable around you.” Director Kim boops Renjun’s nose, which makes him smile. He slings an arm over his narrow shoulders, and Donghyuck forces himself to only notice it in their reflection on the window glass. “What’s on the schmoozing agenda?”
Donghyuck lists all the names-to-know with practised efficiency while slicing up kiwi fruit, which his boss recites back, as Donghyuck notices Renjun also mouthing them, committing them to memory.
If his boss is bringing him to a work gala, is it more serious than Donghyuck first thought?
They arrive at the event hall on a red carpet unfurled upon chiselled steps. Director Kim takes Renjun’s arms in his, and Donghyuck trails behind as his faithful assistant. Renjun has to go onto his tiptoes to whisper something into Director Kim’s ear with a slender hand. Whatever it is makes him laugh.
The first tray of champagne is brought around; Donghyuck plucks a crystal glass off to skull the whole thing down in a single swig.
Things run smoothly, and Renjun is good. All that pretty boy, delicate charm gets turned up to eleven as Director Kim goes around introducing him as his ‘date for this evening’, which is both vague and intriguing. Donghyuck keeps notes of any business, but for the most part Director Kim is much better at knowing people than he lets on, aided by the fact that they have to introduce themselves to Renjun each conversation.
Smart move. A silver tray of sliders walks past, so Donghyuck quickly stuffs one into his mouth as they move to the next group of socialites.
Charity this, riff-raff that, business, politics, yadda yadda. It’s the usual dull conversation of the socially elite. Donghyuck finds both his mind wandering and his stomach growling after so much time on his feet. There are mini arancini balls on toothpicks, which he shoves into his mouth, then gags when it’s too hot.
At the choked sound, Renjun glances over his shoulder as if he’d forgotten Donghyuck was there, and gives him a faint look of disgust.
Donghyuck grins around a mouthful of rice and gives him a thumbs up.
Renjun rolls his eyes, but hides his expression when he spots an old man with his younger wife beelining towards them. Director Kim’s face twitches, and he murmurs, “Donghyuck?”
“Aarghmgfb,” Donghyuck says, still half-choking around burning Arancini. Director Kim now joins Renjun on the list of people who look at Donghyuck in disgust, but Renjun leans up to quietly murmur,
“That’s Christian Lee and his wife, Janine. He’s the head of Biocomp.”
Director Kim’s face softens in recognition, and he says, “Chris, so good to see you. This is my date for this evening, Renjun…”
Donghyuck helps himself to another glass of champagne just to help the arancini down, and hacks for a few seconds while pounding his own chest. Whatever Director Kim is saying must be boring Renjun, because he says something too quiet for Donghyuck to hear and slips away.
Donghyuck sips his champagne, watching as Renjun disappears into the crowd, but only to everyone else. It’s like all his layers peel away and he becomes nobody again, the charisma and charm melting into something quieter and soft. Nobody stops him —they simply step aside as he makes his way through— but Donghyuck can map his path like a lion tracking prey.
Renjun might fade away for everyone else, but he’s still the most beautiful person in the room to Donghyuck.
Feeling his resolve further, Donghyuck knocks back the rest of his champagne (completely going over his allowance, crap) and wipes the remaining droplets off on the back of his hand, following Renjun through the crowd. He spares Director Kim one fleeting look, then decides he can handle five minutes alone in the real world.
The venue is beautiful, all baroque-style architecture, with gold filigree and classical paintings in every nook between pillars, light bulbs, and above the parquet floors between round, white-clothed tables. Renjun avoids all of this and opens up a set of french doors to disappear onto the balcony.
Donghyuck follows him.
It’s another case of voyeurism, although far less accidental than the last; Donghyuck watches as Renjun’s whole body slumps over the stone railing with a sigh, and then he winces, fingers dipping into his right black sock to massage the skin beneath.
“Are you alright?” Donghyuck asks.
Renjun startles, surprised to be either caught or followed, but he relaxes when he notices it’s only Donghyuck. Donghyuck hasn’t decided if that’s a good or a bad thing, as of yet.
“Fine. Just a bit…” Renjun searches for his words. “Stifling, in there. I don’t know how you handle it.”
“I don’t know why you think you can’t, you’re amazing.” Donghyuck steps forward, tentatively taking a spot on the railing beside Renjun. He doesn’t move away, so Donghyuck takes that as permission. “You even knew the head of Biocomp?”
“I’ve met his wife before, that’s all. He was even on your list earlier. It helped spark my memory, I guess.”
“Yeah but you like, totally saved our asses back there, it’s incredible.”
Renjun gives a weak smile.
“Anytime.”
Silence itches at Donghyuck’s skin, partly because of his personality, partly because it feels like it’s wasting time. With Renjun, Donghyuck feels greedy. He wants to hear him speak, he wants… more.
“So how do you know his wife?” he decides to ask.
“Mm, she’s a big patron of the arts and all that.” Renjun massages a hand through his scalp, loosening some of the slicked back strands, but managing to maintain that perfect put-togetherness. “I’ve met her at a fundraiser before, though she didn’t seem to remember me. Makes sense.” Renjun laughs, self-deprecating. “Dancers are a dime a dozen.”
“She must be crazy then,” Donghyuck offers, “to forget a face like yours. Or your talent.”
Renjun narrows his eyes, then rolls them.
“You’ve never seen me dance.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’d remember your face too,” Renjun counters, matter-of-factly, pushing his index finger into Donghyuck’s chest. “And your boss was always alone. After the divorce, at least.”
“Yeah, but he only picks the best of the best.” Donghyuck licks his lips. “Just look at me. I’m a world-class assistant.”
“And you put the ass in both of those words.” Renjun snorts. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“You just need a little more confidence. I’m sure you’re an amazing dancer.”
“Sure,” Renjun deadpans. “Except for, you know.” He tugs up his pant leg to reveal a bandage wrapped around it.
Ah.
“Ah,” Donghyuck says.
“Tore a tendon last season,” Renjun explains. “I’m not sure I’ll recover in time for next year’s auditions. Or ever.”
“You will,” Donghyuck promises, even though he knows nothing about ballet, or injuries, or auditions or any of it, but he feels some deep-seated need to make sure Renjun has everything he wants. “I’m sure you will.”
“You have a lot of faith in someone you don’t know.”
“I only give a hundred percent or more,” Donghyuck informs him. “Just ask my boss.”
“Oh? Am I doing reference checking for you?” Renjun’s eyes curve teasingly. “The only thing I’ve seen you do is feed cats and play Fruit Ninja.”
“Fuckkkk, you saw that?” Donghyuck rubs the back of his neck. “At least I did both to world-class degrees, right?”
“You made a mess on the kitchen floor, and you missed the frozen banana. That’s like, the most important fruit to get.”
“Sorry, I was trying to distract myself from watching my boss shove his tongue down your throat.”
Renjun flushes pink on cue, right up his neck to the tips of his ears.
“He never did that,” he blurts.
“No.” Donghyuck coos. “But you’re embarrassed about it anyway~”
“Shut up.” Renjun huffs, and it’s the cutest thing in the world. Donghyuck can’t help himself from squealing out loud a little bit. Renjun folds his arms over his chest, and leans on the railing. “I don’t know why he keeps you around.”
“Because I’m good at what I do. Duh.” Donghyuck joins him by resting on his back, their shoulders pressed together. “People like us don’t end up in places like this without hard work.”
“People like us,” Renjun repeats, arching an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
“I dunno. Working class. Regular, non-rich.”
“Oh? So now you’re writing my backstory, are you?”
“I mean…” Donghyuck trails off, caught off-guard. “I just didn’t think… If you had money, why would you sleep with someone for it? Am I wrong?”
“Yes,” Renjun answers simply, so cold the suddenness of it burns. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Oh.” So blunt. Embarrassed and red-faced one moment, icy and stand-offish the next. It should be off-putting, but Donghyuck just wants more. He always wants more. “Well, I’d like to find out then. One day.”
Renjun looks up at Donghyuck, wary, but the motion must make him put too much weight on his injured ankle because he winces, drawing back.
“Does it hurt?” Donghyuck asks, concerned.
“Yeah. Standing for a long time is a lot.”
“Let’s sit down,” Donghyuck suggests, helping guide Renjun to one of the huge arching windows. There’s a stone ledge at the bottom that they can sit in, the gala going on forgotten on the other side of the glass.
Renjun unlaces his shoe and takes off his sock. His foot looks, for all intents and purposes, normal. The skin around his ankle is red with compression from elastic, and the spots where Renjun has been rubbing it. He massages into it now, brow furrowing in concentration.
His toes are kinda weird, Donghyuck has to concede to that. The nails are crushed, and they’re bent at funny angles, and the second one is longer than his big toe. Why is it called the big toe if it’s not the biggest?
“You’re staring,” Renjun murmurs.
“I don’t have a foot kink,” Donghyuck blurts.
“Good to know.” A ghost of a smile laces through Renjun’s pretty mouth. It had been glossy at the start of the night, but it has faded to a soft, natural pink after so much food and drink. “But that sounds like something someone with a foot kink would say.”
“Depends how ashamed they are. I just— sorry. Your toes are weird.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean, weird in a— in a cool way.” Donghyuck might just jump off this balcony. He clears his throat. “Ballet? I thought only the girls learn pointe.”
“Mm, classically, yes, but I prefer contemporary ballet. Don’t tell the Mistress of the company that.”
“I’ll take it to my grave.” Donghyuck crosses his heart over his chest, and Renjun laughs.
“I learnt it as a kid to help with balance issues, but I go back every now and again just to practise something new.” Renjun rubs the top of his foot, lost in thought. “Sorry for flashing you my gross toes.”
It catches Donghyuck by surprise, making him bark out a laugh. Renjun’s grin turns wide and pleased.
“It’s cool man. I’ve seen you in pantyhose, so I can handle some gross toes. Ha, sick rhyme.”
Renjun rolls his eyes.
“Don’t remind me.” He glances at Donghyuck from the corner of his eyes. “I’m shocked you recognise pointe toes. You don’t look like the dancing type.”
“I’m full of tricks. Like those chocolate eggs that got banned.”
“Kinder Surprises?”
“Yeah!” Renjun laughs. “But uh, my sister did it when we were kids. I made fun of her for it for ages.” And then her ultimate punishment was making him sit through all three hours of Swan Lake, when their mother got a cold and was too sick to take her. “I know an ingrown toenail when I see one.”
“And you’re sure you don’t have a thing for feet?”
“Dude, gross. Not while I’m talking about my sister.”
“Sorry sorry.” Renjun laughs it off. “Older or younger?”
“Younger. I’m the darling first son with three inferior siblings.”
“Mm, that makes sense.”
“How?”
“You’re good at taking care of people,” Renjun tells him. “Even that first time we met, you just want to make sure everybody’s comfortable and happy.”
The weight of that curls in Donghyuck’s chest, solid and warm.
“You’re right, an only child would never.” Renjun glares. “You’re an only child, aren’t you?”
“I’m close to my cousins,” Renjun grumbles, folding over his knee as he massages his ankle. Cute. “Big Brother Donghyuck, huh? It’s easy to imagine and hard at the same time.”
“Because I’m so mysterious and elusive?”
“Because you’re also a brat.” Renjun laughs at the shocked look on Donghyuck’s face. “I’d say sibling experience is probably what makes you a good assistant, but I don’t want that to go to your head.”
“My head is actually super small,” Donghyuck informs him, then pitches his voice up into a baby-talk register. “Like a cute little melon.”
“So nothing fits inside it?”
“Hey.”
Renjun laughs, clapping as he leans back with the force of it.
Pretty, Donghyuck thinks, and then, I want to make him do it again.
“We should probably go back inside,” Renjun suggests, biting his lip as he glances over his shoulder. “He’ll be dying of boredom without us.”
“Probably,” Donghyuck agrees, but stays in place. He watches as Renjun rolls his sock back on. “Here.”
Donghyuck crouches to do up Renjun’s shoelaces, glancing up only once he’s done to find Renjun watching him with a strange expression.
“Always dirtying your knees around me, huh?” he jokes.
“You gonna start paying me your wage?” Donghyuck waggles his eyebrows, but Renjun only snorts and brushes it off with a thwack to Donghyuck’s chest.
“You better start doing more than shoelace tying to earn it,” Renjun tells him, which makes Donghyuck splutter like his mouth is full of arancini. “Oh? He can dish it out but can’t take it?”
“Shut up.” Donghyuck hacks like he has a furball, then slaps his cheeks twice. Too much champagne has made his head fizzy with bubbles, or maybe that’s what being drunk off of Renjun’s attention feels like. If it’s always like this, no wonder Director Kim is addicted. “Okay, let’s get back in there.”
“Yes sir,” Renjun drawls, obviously mocking Donghyuck as they make their way inside. Speeches have started, so it’s an awkward tiptoe to their table in the centre as they duck their head and apologise.
“There you are. I was getting worried,” Director Kim whispers, a deep frown in his handsome face. “Everything okay?”
“Sorry, my ankle was hurting, so Donghyuck helped me rest it for a bit.” Renjun places a soft brush of his fingers to Director Kim’s cheek. “I’m okay.”
Director Kim squeezes them, then kisses their tips.
“That’s good.” He turns to Donghyuck. “I’m glad I have you to take care of him when I can’t. That Biocomp man talked my ear off for so long, it nearly fell to the ground.”
Renjun laughs. Donghyuck forces himself to go, “Ha Ha Ha…”
“You were right,” Renjun starts, and his eyes sparkle when they look up at Director Kim, like two black diamonds Donghyuck can’t afford. “He’s a great assistant.”