Chapter Text
Donghyuck is exactly four-and-a-half seconds away from physically exploding.
His skirt rides an inch up his thighs as he nestles into a seat by the bar, finally catching the eye of the man he’s been waiting for. He’s thrice Donghyuck’s age and nearly double his height, with a salt-and-pepper beard and nothing but desire in his eyes.
He’s exactly what Donghyuck’s been looking for.
The man’s face curves into a smirk as he walks closer, and Donghyuck turns his attention to the martini that was sent his way – on the rocks, thankfully. He never could stand the taste of too much alcohol, so he smiles in silent gratitude for the gesture, even though he has no plans to actually drink the thing. He can’t get drunk before something this important, of course. That’d be a rookie mistake, and Donghyuck’s no…
Well. He is new to all of this, technically speaking, but it’s not as though he isn’t prepared. In Donghyuck’s very objective opinion, he’s more than well-equipped to deal with this man. He’s been eyeing him for weeks, after all, watching and studying him in hopes to finally get his attention.
Speak of the devil. The man takes his place in the empty seat Donghyuck saved just for him, eyes pinned on his exposed neck as Donghyuck shifts closer. He lets his eyes glint, wild, a reflection of the barely concealed lust in the man’s own. He runs a single finger across the man’s chest, index finger catching on the top button of a crisp white shirt as he draws himself closer. Silver hair falls across his eyes and into the inch-wide space between them, the angle drawing the man’s attention to Donghyuck’s unbuttoned collar. Perfect.
“Wanna get out of here?” Donghyuck whispers, breath lingering on the curve of his ear. He pulls away, slow and calculating, and watches as the simple pleasure in the man’s eyes turns to animalistic hunger.
A strong hand finds its way around his wrist, and it takes every ounce of Donghyuck’s energy to pretend like his heart isn’t going to pound out of his chest. He sends the man an easy smile as he leads them into the far corner of an alley, every bit as rough and controlling as he expected him to be. Donghyuck’s back, barely covered by the sheer material of his clothes, hits the wall as the man pushes his head up, fingers around his chin like a vice. He feels his hair catch in someone’s chewed-up gum, and curses himself for having washed it in the morning. It doesn’t matter, though, because he had to look his very best if he wanted his attention.
And now here he is, his face barely an inch away from Donghyuck’s own, a split-second away from having everything he’s wanted since he first saw the man on TV.
He pulls Donghyuck closer, hovering, hesitating for a mere moment. But a moment is all Donghyuck really needs.
He pulls the hammer from his purse and swings, using every inch of his might to slam the tool into the man’s skull. He screams, staggering back as his hands fly to the crown of his head. Donghyuck is tempted to cringe away from the sound, loud and agonizing as it is, but he’s nothing if not quick on his feet.
He uses the split-second of freedom to bring the hammer down onto the left side of the man’s face, skin splitting to reveal bone and dripping blood into his beard. Wrinkled fingers, now marred with red, reach behind as a boundless anger twists the man’s features, and Donghyuck finally sees the heartless person he’s been searching for. He’d be proud of himself for coming so far, if it weren’t for the fact that the man seems to be pulling something eerily gun-shaped from his back pocket.
His first instinct is to run, but he knows that he can’t, not after getting so close. That would be giving up, and Donghyuck doesn’t just give up. He’s reckless, yes, but he’s not an idiot.
His eyes dart around the man’s towering frame, searching for a weak spot before he gets the chance to load the pistol. Donghyuck settles on his shoulder, stained with red and turned towards him as the man clicks the trigger behind his back. He swings up, ready for one final blow, and…
A bread knife cuts clean through the (surprisingly wide) chest in front of him, leaving the man to keel over and fall flat with a groan. The gun hits the ground only a second after he does, and Donghyuck can’t stop the annoyance from coursing through his veins.
“Come on!” He wails, out of frustration more than anything else. “I was about to get him! Why’d you have to…” Donghyuck’s voice trails off as his eyes finally land on the person who ruined his master plan.
Woah.
The saboteur of Donghyuck’s excellent day, the destroyer of his most well-planned scheme is… hot.
No, wait. Wrong adjective. He’s beautiful.
His deep brown hair is messy, barely shorter than Donghyuck’s own, and styled in waves that push back over his forehead. Donghyuck hadn’t ever thought bare foreheads could be attractive until ten seconds ago. A few strands of his hair (which Donghyuck would pay good money to run his hands through) fall astray into sharp eyes, which glint dangerously under the single lamp post above them. Pale peach skin gives way to the beginnings of tattooed sunflowers, peeking through the collar of a black leather jacket. Paired with a sheer yellow shirt cropped just under his waist, blood stains splattered across the skin underneath… Donghyuck can’t help but to stare.
He looks like he’s someone who rides a motorcycle and smokes twenty cigarettes a day.
He looks like he’s exactly Donghyuck’s type.
“He had a gun on him.” The stranger’s voice is soft, quiet under the blaring traffic, but the chill within it brings Donghyuck back to reality. Well, mostly. He’s eighty percent sure he’s still blinking like an idiot, but at least his mind’s in the right place again. Right? Right. “Would’ve killed you. Besides, a dagger is better than a hammer. Cleaner, too.”
The way this person talks, phrases clipped, the way he refuses to look Donghyuck in the eye… Donghyuck can tell that he’s trying to keep to himself. It only makes him want to get to know this murderous stranger better.
“What's your name?” he tries.
“Why do you need to know?” comes the response, every bit as sharp and biting as Donghyuck thought it’d be. He doesn’t even try to ignore the rush of adrenaline that runs down his spine.
“I don’t. But I want to know. Isn’t that enough?” The stranger shrugs, eyes turned towards his blade as he wipes the man’s blood off of it. Donghyuck sighs, shoulders slumped. “Look… I’ll buy you dinner. It’s late, and I haven’t eaten. Consider it an act of gratitude for helping me out.” His eyes flit to the man’s fresh corpse, pressed white shirt stained red as he lies cold on the floor.
“Fine. We’re getting Korean food.” His tone leaves no room for debate, voice made of steel as the stranger finally looks up. Donghyuck smiles, eyes forming half-moons in victory.
“Sounds perfect! I know a really good place, trust me.”
After fifteen minutes of walking and a faint ache in his thighs, Donghyuck shrugs off his coat as he slides onto a seat at Jung’s Kitchen. He takes a single deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs to the brim, and every trace of tension leaves his shoulders when he sighs. Creaking plastic stools, round metal tables splattered with old soup stains, and the lingering smell of fermenting kimchi – it all feels like home.
From the corner of his eye, he sees a server trying to untie his apron, and Donghyuck can’t help but to wave obnoxiously in his direction.
“The usual, little Lee?” He smiles, sidling up to their table in record time. Fluffy chestnut curls and pink dimpled cheeks look down at Donghyuck, fluorescent lights forming a halo around his head. Donghyuck does not miss the veiled amusement on the server’s features as he looks at the person sitting on the other end of the table, a single eyebrow raised in a silent question.
“Stop that. It’s not even funny. I’m barely three years younger than you, Jaehyun-ssi,” Donghyuck snarks, only to be met with a deep laugh in return. Rolling his eyes, he turns towards his companion, whose eyes are fixed on the floor. “Does kimchi jjigae sound okay?”
A quick nod from the other sends Jaehyun back into action. “Two usuals on their way, little Lee and company.” His sly smile turns into a full-blown grin, eyes disappearing into crescents as he zips to the kitchen.
“Your customer service needs work!” Donghyuck’s voice rings through the little diner, echoing off of cracked cement walls. It’s late enough for the place to be empty, which means there’s no one around to judge Donghyuck for his shenanigans. Not that that would ever stop him from embarrassing Jaehyun, of course. Trying his luck, Donghyuck calls out, “Sungchannie’s better at this than you!”
“Fuck off!” is Jaehyun’s bright response, which promptly sends Donghyuck into a flurry of laughter.
He gives himself a few seconds to recover, wiping the tears from his eyes as he looks up. In front of him, his co-murderer stares quietly at his phone, indifferent, yet somehow stunning. He’d been silent since the moment the two of them had stepped out of the alley, and Donghyuck had had no choice but to keep all his questions to himself.
He decides to leave the stranger alone for a little longer, opening his purse to untangle his earphones from the sticky handle of the hammer. After a minute of wrestling with his bag, he pries his earphones free, plugging the cable into his phone with a huff. He rushes to press play on his mother’s favorite album, humming along under his breath as Michael Jackson croons about lost love.
Just as Donghyuck’s stomach begins to growl, two identical pots of jjigae arrive before him, curls of steam rising under the diner’s yellow lights. Neither of them spare a single thought before digging in, burning their mouths on hot soup. Clearly, murder is no match for the feeling of overwhelming hunger.
“So?” Donghyuck asks, cheeks stuffed with ramen noodles. His companion finally looks up, expressionless as ever. At least he’s paying attention to Donghyuck now. Small victories! He prompts the stranger with his hand, waving a spoon around as if to say “go on.”
“So, what?” The reply is, once again, monotonous, but Donghyuck is nothing but relentless. He pouts.
“What’s your name? Come on. I’m buying you dinner, at least tell me that much.”
“You’re buying me dinner because I saved you. But fine. The name’s Renjun. Korean name Injun.” He has a fleck of pepper on his chin, and it takes all the willpower in Donghyuck’s five-foot-seven body not to wipe it away for him.
It takes him a second to collect his thoughts, too caught up in finally having a name to put to that perfect face. Renjun. Donghyuck thinks he might be a little bit in love.
“It’s nice to meet you! I’m Lee Donghyuck. I’m twenty-three, and I’m–”
“Why were you trying to kill that guy?” The question comes sharp and quick, just like every word from the other’s mouth, and it throws Donghyuck off guard.
“Sorry, what?” After coming across the potential love of his life, he nearly forgot about the body they’d left in that alley. “Oh… Right. Wait, haven’t you seen him on the news? Roland Jennings. He molested three teenagers at Shouter’s Pub two weeks ago. Got off scot-free because he’s rich, just like every other criminal in Seoul.”
Renjun’s eyes seem to twist into disgust, almost at the same time as a chill runs down Donghyuck’s spine at the thought. There was a reason he’d planned everything out so meticulously, and it wasn’t because he was attracted to him. Not that anyone could be, really. “Why’d you stab him if you didn’t even know who he was?”
“I saw him trying to shoot someone half his height,” Renjun replies easily. “Also, stabbing is fun.”
Donghyuck doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more reasonable explanation in his life.
“Maybe I should take up stabbing instead, then. The hammer gets heavy sometimes.” He looks up from his (nearly empty) pot of jjigae to stare at Renjun, eyes as wide as saucers. “Will you teach me?”
For the first time that night, Donghyuck watches as Renjun’s face cracks into a little smile, round lips quirking to the left and leaving a dimple in their wake.
“Sure. I’ll help you out. That way you won’t need me to save you again.” His smile settles, features sitting in the blank expression Donghyuck’s quickly grown to enjoy, but the mirth in his gaze is hard to miss.
“Ah, but you’re mistaken, Injunnie.” The nickname slips past his lips without a second thought, almost as though he was destined to use it. “I think I’ll have you stick around for a long time.”