Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Jinnie! It’s not my fault you sat on some guy's fat cock last night, and now you can’t walk. You should’ve considered our plans to go shopping before reenacting the Magic Mike routine.” Spotting his car in the packed parking garage, Jisung’s steps speed up. “Shove an ice cube in your butt and move on.”

“It’s not my fault either, and you could’ve waited! We were supposed to shop the new Versace collection together. You should have seen him, Sungie. His arms! His chest! The restaurant should warn that their delivery guy is a hot stud muffin.”

Shaking his head, Jisung yanks open the passenger door, tossing in his shopping bags. “I can’t believe you dragged the poor guy inside and let some stranger rail you like that. What if he were an ax murderer?”

“Not with those dimples. After he finished plowing me, he was so sweet. He cleaned me up and got me a cup of hot tea.”

“Plowing?” Marching around to the driver’s side, Jisung slides in, switching his phone’s audio to speaker. “You don’t know the first thing about farming. You’re exaggerating to justify standing me up on our shopping date.”

“I don’t need to be a farmer to know he fertilized my ass like it was springtime, baby.”

“That’s disgusting. Hold on, I’m starting the car, and it’s gonna switch to Bluetooth.”

Pressing the ignition button, Jisung blinks when nothing happens. “Huh…” 

“What’s huh? Everything ok?”

Ignoring the question, he opens his saddle bag, digging around in search of his keys. The car unlocked when he touched the handle, so they have to be here… Finding them at the bottom, he looks from the key fob to his dashboard.

“Hey! Why are you so quiet? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. My car won’t start.” 

Setting the fob next to the center console, he presses the start button again… nothing happens. No lights, no dinging noise… nothing. Frustration pulls his lips in a frown, and he can already feel angry tears pushing at the back of his eyes.

“Fuck!”

“You’ve had it for what? A month? Did you break it already?”

“I didn’t break it!” He snaps. “It was working fine when I got to the mall. Just give me a second…”

Climbing out of the car, he searches the driver’s side for a button with a picture of a car hood on it. This would be his luck. Get a brand new car, and the damn thing breaks within a month. He’d wanted a German sports car, but his father had insisted on Italian. Not that Jisung would know the difference, but surely a BMW wouldn’t have died so soon.

“Do you want me to call someone?”

Spotting the correct button, Jisung hears the pop of the hood releasing and walks to the front. “Does your delivery guy fix cars along with bringing noodles?”

“That’s not funny. And I don’t know, I didn’t get his name or number. I could call a tow for yo-”

Lifting the hood, Jisung’s eyes expand, and his phone clatters to the ground. “Ahhh! Jinnie!”

“What? What’s wrong!?!”

Shrill shouts of alarm come from his phone as he stares at the empty space where the engine should be. Hands shaking, he picks up his iPhone. “S-someone stole my engine! It’s gone! There’s nothing but a tire here!”

“WHAT!!”

The sheer volume of Hyunjin’s yell has him jerking away from the phone’s speaker. 

“I’ll call the police! You’re at Shinsegae, right? You call your dad and-”

“Is everything ok?”

A soft voice comes from beside him, and whipping around, Jisung’s brain grinds to a halt. The first thing he sees is vibrant purple hair, followed by stunning, sultry eyes. The man’s gaze is almost as sharp as his nose and jaw line. Holy fuck!

“Jisung! Who was that? Is that the thief who stole your engine?! Blink if you need help! Ah-fuck! I can’t see you…”

Hyunjin’s loud voice breaks him out of his daze as the stranger glances at the phone in his hand. “Jinnie, I’ll call you back. Some Idol just showed up, and I think he’s going to help.”

The man’s pink lips twitch into a subtle grin, and Jisung feels faint.

“Sungie, wait! Get an autogr-”

Disconnecting the call, he cuts off his friend’s response and jams the phone into his back pocket. “Hi.” Heat flooding his cheeks, he takes in the stranger coming to his rescue. Jesus!

Aside from being stupidly gorgeous, the guy is all broad shoulders and lean muscles. His black t-shirt stretched tight across his chest with short sleeves showing off strong biceps. The ripped and stained blue jeans should be a turn off, but in fact add to his “bad boy” appeal. Combined with the red plaid shirt tied around his waist, the man looks positively grunge… and sexy. Black lines of tattooed ink poke out from his shirt collar, and Jisung would kill to know what’s hiding underneath the cotton.

Steely eyes quickly flick down Jisung’s form before turning to his car, the less-than-interested reaction stinging his pride. Dressed for his shopping excursion, he’d thought his tight black slacks and ivory silk shirt rather attractive when paired with subtle gold jewelry. Wearing Balmain never fails to get him a compliment or two.

“Are you having car trouble?” The stranger’s voice is soft and relatively high-pitched… very sexy.

Swallowing the drool pooling in his mouth, Jisung gulps. “Yeah. Oh! I’ve been robbed!” Pointing to the front of his car, the panic he’d felt moments ago returns. “Someone stole my engine!”

White teeth show as the man bites his bottom lip, choking back a laugh, and Jisung’s panic switches to annoyance. Is this guy making fun of him? “This isn’t funny!”

Fixing his face, the man’s smile disappears as he shakes his head. “This is a Maserati MC20.” Stepping forward, he shoos Jisung aside as he closes the hood. “I’m assuming brand new. This year’s model?”

“Uh… yes. I just got it.” Internally, Jisung curses the plaid shirt concealing the guy’s ass as he walks around to the driver’s side and leans in. A popping noise comes from the back, and the trunk starts to lift. “I take it you know a lot about cars?” He asks as the man walks towards the rear.

“I do, and I can guess you know nothing about them.”

The stranger’s rude tone and near insult have him puffing up in defense. “That’s not true!”

“Really?” A scoff comes from the man as he bends over the fender and starts fiddling around.

“Yes, really! I know things.” Huffing, Jisung moves to see what’s happening and freezes in place when he peeks in the trunk. Staring up at him is a shiny engine with a hundred different wires and knobs. “That’s…”

“That’s the engine.” A dark gaze lands on him as the man glances over his shoulder. “This is a mid-engine car, meaning the engine is behind the driver’s seat. The salesmen didn’t explain that when you bought it?”

“No. It was a gift.” Pouting, he leans in for a closer look as his hero pulls something from his pocket. Taking it apart, the tool morphs into a small screw driver, and Jisung cheers when he recognizes what it is. “That’s a screwdriver! See! I know stuff.”

A soft chuckle comes from beside him, followed by a sigh. “Correct, and this is your battery terminal. The connection has come loose. It’s fairly common on this model. Maserati built the MC20 more for speed than comfort, and the vibrations in the engine compartment can shake it loose. There, it should start now.”

Standing up, the man closes the trunk before climbing in the driver’s seat, and Jisung watches as his savior’s dark eyes scan over the numerous Versace, Chanel, and Hermes bags tossed onto the passenger floorboard. Putting his foot on the brake, the guy presses the start button, and the car roars to life.

Relief pours into him at the purr of the engine, and the weight that’d settled in his chest floats away. “Thank you!” Stepping back, he pulls his wallet out, searching for a suitable bill for his knight in ripped denim. The guy might be a little rude, but he’d saved him nonetheless. Damn. He doesn’t have a pen, or else he’d scribble his number on the bill. “Is this enough?” Offering two fifty-thousand-won notes, he waits for the man to take them, only to be surprised when he wipes his hands on his jeans and walks past him.

“Thanks, but I don’t need it.”

“Wha… hey, are you sure?” Trailing behind, he follows the stranger as he heads towards a line of parked cars, disappointment spiking at the thought of the sexy man getting away without him even learning his name. “You didn’t have to help me. Please take it, it’s the least I can do. Or… um, maybe I can buy you lunch or a coffee.”

Stopping next to a small sedan with peeling paint, his savior turns, pinning Jisung in place with narrowed eyes. The annoyed expression twisting beautiful features has his heart sinking. For a brief moment, when they’d met he’d thought maybe this was the Universe calling. His chance to bump into a handsome, kind man and be swept off his feet. The fantasy is now crumbling, destroyed by the thinly veiled look of irritation flashing across a structurally perfect face. The look has his temper sparking. It’s not like he’d begged for help, or even approached the stranger in need. The guy had offered to help him! At this point, Jisung is just trying to show his thanks and perhaps score a date.

Scrambling to preserve his pride, he steps back. “You know what, never mind. I appreciate your help and wanted to thank you for it, but I’m obviously bothering you. Take care.”

Prepared to leave, he’s stopped by a hand on his elbow, and the hard look on the man’s face softens. Fuck… now he’s even hotter.

“Sorry, I’m running late and don’t have time for coffee. Thank you for the cash, but seriously, I’m good.”

Standing closer to the stranger than before, Jisung nearly melts as the soft scent of soap and mint drifts over. He smells amazing.

“Here.” Opening his car door, the guy pulls a small square from the cup holder, handing it over. “I work on cars. If you have any more trouble, that’s my shop. Stop by, and I’ll take a look at it.”

“Thanks…” Scanning the business card, Jisung peeks up through his lashes. A hot mechanic… oh hell yes. “Lee Minho-ssi. Now I can call you something other than my hero.” Winking, he leans in, batting his eyes the same way Hyunjin does when smooth-talking their professors.

Lips pursing, Minho looks bored, his voice monotone as his eyes flick over Jisung’s shoulder. “You left your car running.”

Turning, cold embarrassment floods him at seeing his car door wide open with the engine still purring. He’d actually chased after the man. “Um, well… ha. Thanks again.” Waving the card in his hand, he looks back to find Minho climbing into his car. “How about I stop by sometime and-”

Cutting Jisung off, the driver’s door slams shut, and he is left to stand in stunned silence as Minho drives off.

What the hell? Is the guy rude or simply antisocial? Considering he’d volunteered to help, he can’t be that rude. Walking back to his car, Jisung memorizes the address on the business card. They’ll meet again. They have to… He’ll make sure of it.

________ Six Months later________

Stuffing his notebook in the front pocket of his satchel, Jisung’s leg bounces anxiously. His heart keeping time with the clock’s second hand while his professor wraps up the lecture.

“Alright class, don’t forget, your paper on literacy research and instructional strategies is due next Friday.” With this last announcement, class is released, and throwing his bag over his shoulder, Jisung jumps up, ready to leave.

“What are you in such a rush for?” Beside him, Hyunjin kicks his legs out, blocking the aisle while yawning. “This is your last class for the week. I was thinking we could get some coffee and then watch the soccer team practice. Hee-sul has been putting in work at the gym. We can drool over him and whistle when he scores.”

Cautiously stepping over his best friend’s legs, he offers a tight smile. “Next time, maybe. I have to take my car to the shop. I’ve got a flat tire.”

“A flat tire?” Standing, Hyunjin grabs his custom Versace messenger bag, following Jisung out into the hall. “But… I saw you park just this morning. It was fine then.”

Refusing to meet the blonde’s eyes, he shrugs. “That was hours ago, and now it’s losing air. I’ll see you tonight. We’re still on for drinks and karaoke, right?” Refusing to meet his friend’s suspicious gaze, Jisung splits off, heading in the direction of student parking.

“Fine, see you tonight! And don’t be late! Seungmin bitched for an hour last time you made us wait!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Waving over his shoulder, he takes off at a jog and checks his watch. Four hours. That’s more than enough time to finish his errand and arrive on time.

**

Turning right, Jisung follows the final curve of a route he memorized months ago. Just down the block, the sign for Drive Automotive rises above the surrounding buildings, and his palms immediately start to sweat. It’s been like this for months, his nerves refusing to stay calm whenever he’s only minutes away from seeing Minho.

Getting close, he pulls into a bank’s parking lot, hiding just beyond the auto shop’s line of sight. He fumbles with his seatbelt (almost choking himself), groping behind the passenger seat for the plastic bag he’d brought from his apartment, and steps out.

Walking around the front of his sports car, he acts natural. His steps are unhurried, the swing of his arms totally normal. Drivers pass him in their cars, not giving him even a spare glance, as the advice he’d found online when searching for tips on daylight surveillance filters through his mind. ‘In daylight, the best way to avoid attention is to act like nothing’s wrong. If you seem normal, people are more likely to look right past you.’

Crouching next to his passenger side tire, he pulls a hammer and a box of nails from the bag,  breaking the unopened plastic wrapping. Stabbing the sharp point of a tack into the rubber tread, he hammers at the head until it’s flush with the tire before adding a second one a little ways up. Looking over his shoulder, he confirms no one has stopped to watch him, and then, for good measure, he shuffles to the back tire, adding three to that one. Perfect!

Congratulating himself for crafting this brilliant plan, he returns to his car, stashing the hammer and nails under the passenger seat, and pulls out into traffic. Provided his timing is accurate, he’ll arrive at the shop right as the air in the tires runs out. Some would call him crazy. He considers it resourceful.

True love is worth fighting for.

**

Entering the shop’s office, the door closes behind him, rattling the bell attached. Similar to how he’s been greeted over the past six months, freckled cheeks and a glowing smile turn in his direction, welcoming him, along with the familiar smell of oil and exhaust. “Felix!”

“Jisung. You’re back! Car trouble again?” The blonde’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m starting to think your car is cursed.”

Leaning heavily into his ruse, he lays it on thick, sighing deeply before pooching his bottom lip outward in a pout. “It’s not cursed, I am. I have the worst luck.” Setting a cup tray full of drinks on the counter, Jisung’s eyes jump to the large bay windows leading out to the shop floor. A pair of boots stick out from under a minivan, but his gaze moves on. Those are too big to be Minho’s. Lifted high in the air is a sedan, and working underneath it is Changbin. The stout man cutting away at an exhaust pipe with an electric saw. Nope… not him either.

“Is this strawberry?”

“Hmm?” Attention returning to Felix, he sees the man pointing at a pink smoothie. “Yes! I remembered you’d said you like them.”

“Aww. Sungie, you’re so thoughtful.” Pulling the drink from the cup sleeve, he pokes a straw through the lid. “I wish all of our customers were as sweet as you. You’re my favorite, by the way. Oh!” Eyes landing on the iced americano in the carrier, Felix’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is that for Minho? He’s in the back offic-”

“Ahem…” A throat being cleared has them both looking up, and the sight of chiseled features coupled with wavy purple hair sends Jisung’s heart rocketing from his chest. A ridiculous, uncontrollable smile spreads across his face before he can even pretend to play it cool.

“Hyung.” The breathy tone of his voice has his cheeks turning rosy, but he can’t help it. Minho is just… everything. Since the fateful day the mechanic had fixed his car in the mall parking lot, Jisung had fallen... hard. Unable to function without seeing the man again, he’d made it his mission to get to know him. Unfortunately, his car being brand new hadn’t afforded the appropriate excuse to visit the man’s shop and so… he’d manufactured a reason. Or two… or five.

“Han. What is it this time?” Sounding bored, Minho sets his clipboard aside, crossing his arms to lean against the door jamb separating the front office from the back. The bulge of the man’s muscles pulls at his stained white t-shirt, and Jisung gulps, forced to swallow the drool pooling in his mouth. “Another hole in your coolant reservoir? Or perhaps the oil shield has fallen again?”

Well damn, when you say it like that, it sounds less romantic and more desperate… or pathetic.

Blushing, Jisung works the ice Americano free from the to-go sleeve, sliding it across the countertop. “There’s construction at my University’s campus, and I ran over some nails.” Minho’s eyes drop to the coffee, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, and Jisung’s heart skips a beat. Hope springs eternal.

“Alright. Give Lix the keys and I’ll take a look at it. A tire patch is fairly cheap, but if there’s more than one nail and the placement is bad, I’ll have to replace the tire. We’ll get you an estimate shortly.”

“There are five nails total and in two tires. Don’t worry about the estimate, hyung.” Leaning against the counter, Jisung sends the man a shy smile. “I trust you.”

“Uh-huh…” Picking up his clipboard, Minho steps forward, taking the Americano waiting for him. “I think you should consider what Lix said and trade the car in. It’s cursed. Do you want to call a ride to come get you? Provided I have the tires in stock, it’ll take an hour or two. It’ll be close to closing by then.”

“No, I’ll stay. I like to watch.”

A loud snort comes from Felix before the blonde descends into a coughing fit. Face pink from choking, he sends over a knowing look, and Jisung wants to climb across the counter and strangle the pixie.

“Suit yourself, and thanks for the coffee.”

Leaving them, Minho heads out into the shop, and Jisung sighs at the sight of sharp shoulder blades visible through the back of the man’s thin white shirt. The door separating the two spaces shuts right as he wobbles out a weak “you’re welcome”.

Heart rate returning to normal, he spins on the office clerk, who is now muffling his laughter behind a clenched fist. “Lix! Come on!” Whining, he stomps a foot. “It’s not funny! You know I can’t control my mouth when he’s around!”

Alone together, the man’s laughter is set loose as he clings to the counter for support. “You like to watch? Jisung! God damn, just tell the man you want to watch as he blows a load in your mouth.”

“Shut up!” Shielding his burning cheeks, he glances out the office windows. His eyes immediately find the object of his heart’s desire as Minho discusses whatever is on the clipboard with Chan, who has rolled out from under the van.

“I’m just teasing. You know I support you.” Taking Jisung’s keys, Felix gives his hand a soft squeeze.

“I don’t know.” Lying his head on the counter, he watches as Minho makes his way through the shop, looking over the cars in progress. “I’m grateful you’re in my corner, but I’m starting to think it’s pointless. He sees me as nothing but a customer. I’ve asked Hyung out twice now, and both times he’s been busy. You sure he’s single?”

“One hundred percent. That man hasn’t seen a dick other than his own in months.”

Pouting, Jisung peers up at the clerk. “You know that’s not what I’m interested in, right?” Blonde eyebrows shoot up in skepticism, so he backtracks. “I mean… of course I want his dick. I’m a desperate gay with eyeballs, but I want to date him too. I’m talking picnics in the park, dinner followed by a movie, and then a ride to pound town. I want what you and Chan have.”

“Aw, babe.” Twirling the ring on his left hand, Felix gives Jisung a soft smile. “Then you need to be more forward. Instead of simply asking if he’s free, tell him you want to go on a date. I’ve known Min for years, because of his looks, people assume he’s confident, but in reality, he’s shy. He probably thinks you’re just being friendly.” Pulling paper from the printer, Felix pats him on the head. “Just be your bold, beautiful self.”

Scoffing, Jisung sighs. It’s easy for Felix to say "be bold." He’s just as pretty as Minho, but in a more delicate way. He also didn’t have to worry about being rejected. He and Chan were destined for each other. Their love story, enviable. The two had bumped into each other at a cafe and, upon discovering they were both from Australia, started talking. After only a few minutes, they’d learned that their lives had been intertwined. They’d grown up streets apart, gone to neighboring schools, and unknowingly flown to Korea on the exact same flight. 

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Jisung studies Felix as he takes the paperwork for his car into the shop. If he could only work up the confidence to ask Minho out directly, he knows they’d be perfect for each other. It’s just… fear of rejection is hard to overcome. Especially when the person at risk of rejecting you is a damn God. If he were to be direct with Minho, only to be turned down, it would crush him.

It also doesn’t help that he has zero experience being the “pursuer”. His money and family name have always led to him getting invited on dates. The role reversal he’s found is not one he likes. Unlike his past boyfriends, Minho doesn’t care that Jisung’s family owns the largest film production company in Korea. Dropping his surname and connections had gotten him nothing but a blank stare from the man.

At first, it’d been refreshing to not be viewed as simply a means to connect with celebrities. Now it’s frustrating. Minho doesn’t notice him at all! 

Movement out in the shop has him tracking the elusive mechanic as he heads towards Jisung’s Maserati. Ugh! Fucker is too fine! Not to mention polite, patient, and funny (in a smart-ass kind of way). In the months he’s been coming to Drive, he’s learned just enough about Minho to keep him coming back. From his very first visit, he and Felix had gotten along easily. The moment the office clerk caught on to his interest in Minho, Felix promised he’d have his back. They’ve become fast friends, and he couldn’t be more grateful for the Aussie’s encouragement.

Without Felix, he wouldn’t know that Minho prefers Americanos over lattes. Or that the man harbors a secret love for animals and sends money to charities overseas. The more he learns about Minho, the more he adores him. He’s the type of guy who stops to help poor motorists (like Jisung) who need help, and even has a younger brother he’s putting through college. The mechanic’s “bad boy” persona is simply an act, and Jisung is desperate to know the real man concealed behind stained cotton and ripped jeans.

________

“Bin! He’s back! You owe me thirty thousand won!”

Chan’s voice echoes inside the shop as Minho drives Jisung’s Maserati onto a lift. Turning the vehicle off, he pulls the emergency brake, pausing when he notices a receipt stuck between the lever and the driver’s seat. If the car belonged to anyone but Jisung, he wouldn’t think twice about it. As it is, the man has turned into a regular customer and relentless flirt… Minho is curious.

Jamming his fingers into the small crevice, he tugs it free. More than likely, it’s for some overpriced luxury bag, the cost of which could keep his lights on for a month. Scanning the slip, the tips of his ears burn, and he isn’t sure if he should be worried or flattered. Looking towards the front office, he finds the person in question busy talking with Felix. The wide smile on his face growing larger as whatever the blonde is saying makes him laugh. Folding the paper in half, he shoves it in his pocket. At least he now knows for sure… the sports car is in fact NOT cursed.

Climbing out of the driver’s seat, he winces at the smudges of grease his fingers leave on the car’s gleaming paint job, wipes them away with a rag, and then proceeds to lift the car. True to Jisung’s word (and the receipt), the tires on the right side have multiple nails embedded in them. Had he placed them on the ground and then rolled over them?

“Min.”

“Yeah?” Jotting down the tire size, Minho glances at Chan. His business partner and best friend coming over to inspect the damage to the wheels. 

“I see our best customer has returned. Is it just the tires or something else?”

“It’s the front and rear right tires, but he’ll need to replace all four to keep them wearing evenly.”

Whistling Chan nods. “Pricey. I’ll check and see if we have four in stock. Want me to write the estimate?”

Rolling his eyes, Minho pulls his tool cart over, reaching for his impact gun. “Don’t bother. He already said to fix it. I guess price doesn’t matter when you’re spending daddy’s money.”

“Careful, Min. You sound jaded. The guy can’t help that he’s rich. Besides, his misfortune is good for business. Although I might suggest he get a different car. This thing is a magnet for mechanical issues.”

The receipt in his pocket burns like a hot coal, and he thinks fuck it. Pulling it out, he hands it to Chan before turning back to the wheel in front of him. Checking the battery on his gun, he attaches it to a lug nut right as his friend bursts into laughter. A slap lands on his shoulder which has him growling.

“What is it?” 

Changbin’s voice draws near, and Minho instantly regrets the show and tell he’d initiated. Chan will tease for a minute and let it go. Changbin will sink his teeth into this and bug him for months. His other best friend is the copilot of the matchmaker train with Felix and is determined to see him and Jisung “disgustingly in love”. Poor guy let the rich man of his dreams slip away and is now trying to live vicariously through him.

Reaching for the receipt, he curses when the other is faster and rips it from Chan’s fingers.

“Fuck! Bin don’t, you-”

“Oh my God!”

The loud bellow bounces off the shop’s concrete walls, and Minho wants to punch the crooked grin right off Changbin’s face.

“Did he buy the nails? Really?!”

“Shush!! Keep your voice down.” Dropping his impact gun, he wrestles the receipt free, stuffing it back in his pocket. “People in China can hear you, dumbass. I don’t want him to know I was snooping in his car.”

Snickering in the background, Chan peeks at the front office. “He’s talking with Lix right now. You’re fine. What are you gonna do, Min?”

“Do?” Feigning indifference, he retrieves his tool from the ground in an attempt to give his scattered brain time to catch up. “I don’t need to do anything.”

“Really? Come on, man. Ask him out. Go have brunch, or whatever it is rich people do where they drink mimosas and eat caviar with salmon.” Eyes twinkling, Changbin slaps his hands together. “You could get the bagel thing! The one with smoked salmon, cream cheese, and capers!”

The glare he levels at his friend would kill a weaker man. “I don’t do brunch.”

Squeezing between them, Chan, pushes Minho towards the raised vehicle. “Excuse me. Are we not going to address the fact that he’s intentionally fucking up a three hundred million won car just to see your ass?”

Shrugging, Changbin pulls his tool cart over to start helping. “He’s not hurting anyone. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?” Chan frowns… “The first time he came by, I can understand, but he should’ve asked for Min’s number then. It’s getting weird.”

Biting his tongue, Minho focuses on removing the lug nuts in front of him. The term “weird” being assigned to Jisung sparks a flash of anger in his mind. It’s fine for him to label Jisung as strange, but Chan voicing it feels wrong. Hypocritical? Nah…

“Like you’re one to talk.” Shit eating grin splitting his face, Changbin gives their hyung a sarcastic look. “It’s no weirder than visiting the same cafe three weeks in a row, hoping to meet some random guy you saw get off a bus. And then, when you finally bump into said guy, you pretend as if you hadn’t been nearly stalkin-”

Rushing to put Changbin in a headlock, Chan kicks the waste bucket sitting next to the lift, spilling a gallon of used oil across the floor, and in less than a second, the pair are falling to the ground in a pile of pained shouts. No sooner have worker safety violations popped into Minho’s mind than Felix bursts into the shop, closely followed by Jisung.

“HEY! What the hell is going on out here!?”

At the sound of his husband’s voice, Chan releases a purple-faced Changbin, the elder of the two holding his hands up in innocence. “Baby, I-”

“NO!” Ready to throttle them, Felix points an angry finger, silencing the man. “We have a customer, and you all are acting like children! Get it together and clean this mess up! Jisung, I’m sorry you had to see this. You know boys. They forget they’re adults and think it’s play time.”

Concealing his laughter with a hand, Jisung’s eyes shine as he stares at the men covered in oil.   “It’s fine, Lix. My friend Jinnie says dirty boys have more fun anyway.”

“Oh, yeah?” Using the lift for support, Changbin struggles to stand, his slip-resistant work boots failing miserably at gaining traction on the slick floor. “Is he single? Cause I’m dirty ninety percent of the time. As long as he doesn’t mind getting messy too, I’d be happy to prove him right.”

Giving a coy wink, Jisung glances at Minho. Committed to ignoring the younger’s advances, he spins the lug nut attached to the tip of his impact gun, trying to appear busy (it was successfully removed five spins ago).

“Jinnie doesn’t mind a mess and uh… neither do I.”

Every person in the shop turns to him, waiting for a reaction, and Minho’s spine stiffens. It’s him against the horny world. “Felix. Government safety regulations state that customers are not allowed in the shop. Please show Han back inside.”

Jisung’s smile dims from megawatt to a flickering candle. “I-I’m sorry. Of course. Lix, I’ll be inside. Thanks for thinking about my safety, hyung.”

The door to the office clicks shut, and Felix's glare is now directed at him. “Hyung, you should look up the definition of obtuse.”

Giving the man a bored look, Minho removes the tire he’d loosened and sets it aside. “I know what obtuse means.”

“Then look up the definition of jackass.” Fuming, the blonde stomps back inside, slamming the door behind him.

“Min.” The cautious pitch of Chan’s voice sets his nerves on edge as his friend starts sprinkling absorbent sand on top of the spilled oil. “Lix has a point about the obtuse thing. It’s obvious Jisung is coming to see you. If you’re not interested, then you should tell him so he’ll stop breaking his car. Do it gently, though. He and Felix are friends, and I don’t want to be stuck in the middle of it.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Minho nods, hoping that if he acknowledges the comment, the conversation will end.

“Do you not like him?”

Of fucking course Changbin would interject. He should’ve expected it; he’s known Changbin the longest and not once had the man been shy about voicing an opinion. Finished with the lug nuts on the second wheel, Minho rolls the two tires across the shop.

“Hello! Earth to Minho.” Undeterred by being ignored, Changbin keeps talking. “I’ve only spoken with him a few times, but despite being crazy rich, he doesn’t come off as stuck up. He’s funny and smart. Although he doesn’t have to break his car to come by. He could just visit. He’s hot as fuck too. Those fancy clothes look great on him. I wonder if the designers purposefully make it so that only skinny people can pull them off? His ass is-”

Busy running his mouth, Changbin doesn’t notice Minho approaching until he’s standing directly behind him. “If you like him so much, then you ask him out.” Wide brown eyes turn to him in shock at the controlled anger in his voice.

Next to them, Chan drops the broom he’d been using. “Min…”

“If he’s so fucking great, then you date him. I have no interest in being some rich boy’s plaything because he feels like getting a taste of the slums. People like him see people like us as disposable. Just like how he treats his car.”

Stepping around him, Changbin picks up the wheel he’d removed. “Whatever, hyung. It’s shitty to talk about him like that when you don’t even know him. If he wants to fuck up his car, that’s his business, but don’t insult him. You’re just as judgmental as the rich people you claim to hate when you talk like that.”

A hand lands on his arm, silencing Minho’s retort as Changbin walks away. “Let it go…” The grip Chan has on his bicep increases. “… and let Jisung go too. If you’re not interested, then tell him.”

Shaking the man off, Minho looks towards the office. Standing on his tiptoes, Jisung leans against the counter, showing Felix something on his phone. The high-end shirt he’s wearing rides up from the pull of his shoulders, showing off the dip of his spine and tiny waist.

The glimpse of tan skin has Minho’s throat turning dry. He isn’t obtuse or blind. From the moment Jisung had followed him across the mall parking lot, inviting him to coffee months ago, he’d known the guy was interested. Driving off the day they’d met, he’d watched the starry-eyed brunette shrink in the rearview mirror as he stood confused by Minho’s sudden departure.

Jisung is far more than Changbin had described. “Hot as fuck” is a poor description for a man he thinks is one of the prettiest he’s ever seen. With honeyed eyes and a stunning smile, he’d been struck dumb that first day. His good sense was stolen by pouty pink lips and panicked tears welling on impossibly long lashes. No good deed goes unpunished, and since then, his mind has been filled with images of the car’s owner. Thoughts of what might have happened if he’d accepted the offer to lunch or asked for his number.

Time wasted on pointless fantasies. He knows exactly what would’ve happened and how it would have ended. He’s been there before. The bad boy arm candy to a spoiled prince looking to piss off daddy and have a bit of fun. Chan and Changbin know his history. Why are they pushing the issue? They’d known Minho before his heart had been broken and he’d learned the truth of how the world works.

Young and naive, he’d spent the first year of his twenties falling for Rojin. The eldest son of a business tycoon, Rojin had approached him, the greasy gas station attendant working two jobs to make a buck so he could care for his mother and younger brother. Minho had fallen fast and hard. He’d loved for the first time only to learn that the world is black and white. An invisible line drawn between the two colors to segregate those who dream of a better life, and those who don’t need to dream, because they’re already living it.

The parallels between Rojin and Jisung are uncanny. Only this time, Minho is smart enough to see the runaway train barreling towards him and step out of the way.

Through the smudged glass leading into the office, he watches Jisung laugh. The beautiful boy’s head thrown back in humor, a dazzling heart-shaped smile stretching his luscious mouth. He knows what the man has to offer. A few moments of pleasure hot enough to blind him from reality. The type of passion that fizzles on your tongue, leaving your taste buds bland to anything else.

Afterwards, when all is said and done. When you’re alone again with nothing but hazy memories of what could have been, you’re left wondering if the price of heaven was worth the cost of admission. Spoiler alert… It’s not.

“Yeah, hyung. You’re right. I’ll make it clear when we’re finished with the job.”

A hand meant to be comforting lands on his shoulder. “For what it’s worth. I also think he’s nice. If you’re not interested, that’s one thing, but if you’re worried about the past…” Chan’s words trail off. His friend too conscious of Minho’s feelings to finish the statement.

Shame threaded with embarrassment burrows into his mind. It’s been years. He should be over it by now, but he’s not. If he lingers too long on the memory, he can still feel the humiliation from years ago. Can still picture Rojin’s cold eyes as he’d claimed to not know who Minho was. He can still feel the crinkle of the won stuffed in his hand as the person who’d fucked him not a week before pretended Minho was a panhandler approaching him and his friends for money. Not a lover, nor a friend. That day, he’d learned that good looks are enough to gain attention, but never respect. 

Not when you were born into poverty and raised on the wrong side of a society that values wealth above all else. Guryong slum is not a ten-minute drive from Gangnam, but the two parts of Seoul are worlds apart. The poor and elderly willfully forgotten by the Government, while the rich elites pretend they don’t exist at all. Unless, of course, they’re looking for a bit of fun.

Through hard work, determination, and a spot of good luck, Minho had pulled his family from the depths of the slums to the outskirts. When his mother passed, she left the world warm and in the comfort of a bed she hadn’t been forced to share with her angsty youngest son. Now, with just his younger brother to support, they’ve eked out a stable life. Their apartment is small, but there’s food on the table, and bills are paid on time. He has pride in himself and his work. That should be enough… should be.

Despite life’s hard lessons, the tiny speck of his youthful heart that remains looks at Jisung and wants. It wants to again pay the toll. He reminds himself it’s not worth it. Sure, Jisung is shiny and smells good. Probably fucks like he has something to prove because his wealthy family never “loved” him right. But simple attraction doesn’t equal a successful relationship, not that Jisung is even looking for that. Minho deserves better, he wants better for himself.

“It’s fine, Chan. I’ll talk to him.”

**

“Here are your keys.” Handing off Jisung’s fob and dangly keychain, Minho hides the shiver elicited by the brief stroke of soft fingers against his calloused ones. After taking the man’s payment, Felix, along with Chan and Changbin, had magically vanished, leaving them alone together. The sound of a computer chair creaking gives away the traitors’ position of listening from the back office.

“Thanks, hyung.” Large doe-eyes flick around the small space, Jisung’s gaze bouncing from Minho to the front door and back again.

Stomach turning with nerves, he braces himself for the awkward conversation to come. It’s cowardly, but in the past, when shooting people down, he’s settled for the passive ghosting option. Being direct is uncomfortable, not to mention it opens the topic up for discussion in the first place.

“Han-ssi-”

“Minho, would-”

Speaking at the same time, they manage to cut each other off. The air between them grows stuffy as the younger laughs awkwardly. Cheeks dusted a shy pink, Jisung runs a hand through perfectly styled wavy chocolate hair, and Minho hates how pretty he is. His self-harming attraction to sparkly spoiled men makes this harder.

“You uh… You can go first, hyung.”

“No, no. I interrupted you. Please finish.”

Nibbling his bottom lip, Jisung nods, sending a wave of expensive floral cologne in his direction. Goddamn it. It’s intoxicating, like champagne and vanilla oranges.

“Um. S-since you all are closing for the week. I w-was wondering if you were free after this.”

The timid request sends Minho’s heart plummeting to his ass. Shit… he should have gone first. Jisung’s mouth keeps moving. Each subsequent word increasing his stress and fueling the seed of desire that had kept him from shutting the man down months ago when he’d first visited the shop.

“My friends and I reserved a room at this new karaoke bar.” Face turning a deeper shade of red, it looks like the man is close to passing out as he rambles. “Of course, we don’t have to meet up with them, i-if you don’t want to. We could go somewhere, j-just the two of us. For dinner or drinks. Something more date like…”

The word “date” is spoken softly enough that Minho questions if he’d heard it correctly. Friends? Date? Jisung actually wants to be seen with him? In public? That’s… unexpected. The hopeful smile shining in his direction wobbles as the cheeks surrounding it lose their color. The abrupt change signals just how long Minho has been staring blankly at the man without responding.

“Sorry. That was a dumb question. It’s Friday, and you probably have plans.”

Seeing his chance, Minho jumps in. “I do. I’m uh… busy tonight. I’m busy most of the time, actually.” Do it! The rational half of his brain screams. Tell him you aren’t looking for a date now or ever.

“Of course… ha ha.” Laughter sounding strained, Jisung hikes his shoulder bag up higher. “That makes sense. You’re busy. And um… I’m busy too. School and all that. Master’s degrees are hard and keep me busy. I should probably study rather than go out. Busy is good!” Walking backward, Jisung jerks his thumb towards the door. “Thanks for taking care of my car. You guys are the best and I’ll um… I’ll be back.” Eyes blowing wide, he raises his hands up, palms out apologetically. “But not too soon! Just uh, you know. If it breaks again.”

Mind turning on him, Minho wants to smack himself as soon as his lips start flapping. “Thanks again for the coffee earlier, and you’re welcome back anytime. Good luck with your studies.”

Jisung’s pale cheeks tint rosy again, and he imagines Chan is cursing him under his breath. While his response is the opposite of what he’d intended, the knot that’d developed in his stomach is already relaxing. Not good. He wants the guy to stay away… he thinks.

“Thanks, Minho-hyung. I’ll study hard. And uh… good luck with being busy, I guess. Fuck!” Closing his eyes, Jisung pushes the door open, mumbling under his breath. “If I say busy one more time, I’m going to die.”

Hearing this, it takes biting his tongue for Minho to hold back the laughter bubbling in his chest. Fuck… that was cute. The bell over the door jingles when it closes, and he wants to scrub his brain clean. He should NOT be thinking Jisung is cute… or funny… or sexy.

Boots scuff against tile floor, and he sighs. This is not going to go well.

“Min. In what universe does “thanks for the coffee and come back soon” count as telling him you’re not interested in dating?” Chan’s tone is scathing.

“What?! I thought Minho was going to agree to the date? Why would he tell Jisung he’s not interested?” Felix cuts in sounding shocked.

Spinning in place, he finds his friends posted up like a firing squad. A disappointed frown on Chan’s face followed by a smug grin from Changbin, while a concerned Felix has his attention split between glaring at Minho and looking out the front door.

“Was it that bad?” He asks, hoping someone will lie to preserve his honor.

Nodding towards the front door, Changbin chuckles. “It was, but I think he’s more embarrassed by it than you are.”

Following his gaze, Minho looks out the glass door and isn’t sure if he should laugh or go apologize. Sitting in his car (unaware they can see him), Jisung is banging his head against the steering wheel, having what looks like a serious debate with himself. After the third time, his forehead meets the leather, it slips, smacking the center and sending a loud honk in the air. Eyes panicked, Jisung’s face snaps in the direction of the office, and collectively they dive behind the desk.

“Shit! Do you think he saw us?” Felix whispers.

Pain shoots up Minho's leg. “I don’t know, but Chan, you’re on my knee, goddamn it.”

“Sorry!”

“Why are we whispering?”

Changbin’s question comes at the same time Chan moves, sending a second bolt of pain up Minho’s spine, and his patience snaps. “Fuck! I don’t know!” Wiggling himself free, he peeks over the counter, breathing a sigh of relief. The space where Jisung’s Maserati was parked is now empty. “Thank God… he’s gone.”

“Hyung?” Thin arms wrap around his waist, trapping Minho in a tight hug as Felix molds himself to his side. “Do you not like Sungie?”

“Lix.” Fruitlessly, he shoves at the blonde, but the leech refuses to budge. “It’s complicated.”

Freed from the pile of limbs, Changbin stands, wiping at his pants. “You’re the one complicating it, Min. He’s cute, and you’re cute. You go on a date, hold hands, make goo-goo eyes at each other, and at the end of the night, your private parts give his private parts a high-five.” 

“Changbin, I swear to God!” Imprisoned by Felix, Minho is unable to reinforce his threat with the punch the comment deserves. Using Chan as a shield, Changbin sticks his tongue out. 

Stuck between them, Chan’s face grows serious. “You need to figure out what you want, because what you just did is not what we discussed. I said let him down gently, not leave the door open for him. Telling him you’re busy is a temporary solution.”

Finally freeing himself from Felix’s grip, Minho heads for the shop entrance. “It’s not like I lied. I am busy. I have a fight in two weeks, and no time for karaoke.”

Chan’s shout in response follows him out into the shop. “And what happens next time when you don’t have a schedule coming up!?”

Pretending he hadn’t heard, Minho grabs his tool cart, pushing it through the empty bays. He knows what he wants. To be left alone. What he needs to figure out is why the thought of telling Jisung no and never seeing him again turns his stomach inside out.

________ Approximately 2 weeks later ________

“Dear Lord. If I die tonight, please let me come back as a ghost so I can haunt Hyunjin.”

Praying out loud, Jisung squints as if narrowing his vision will help him see better in the rain. His wipers are on full blast, and the windshield is steadily growing foggier. Spinning the a/c dial to high, he keeps one eye on the road and the other on his GPS. The glass fogs up even worse, and he wants to cry. He can never remember if you’re supposed to use heat or air conditioning to clear the glass.

Slowing his speed, he follows the little blue arrow on his car’s display, turning right down a side road where dim streetlights illuminate boarded-up buildings and vacant lots. Anxiety spiking at the unfamiliar surroundings, he takes a deep breath. He has a vague idea of where he is, and the area is not exactly the best. He’d driven past Drive Automotive on the way, so he knows he’s near Guryong. The automotive shop is on the outskirts of the rundown section of Seoul, and while he feels safe visiting the repair center, he’s never driven past it before.

Turning left at a stop sign, he sees lights in the distance and feels better. The navigation puts him a few blocks away from the 7-Eleven he’s looking for and knowing there will be people close by is comforting. Hyunjin owes him a dozen favors for this!

Insisting they reduce their carbon footprint, his best friend had sold their old toaster online rather than throwing it away, only to back out of making the delivery himself after remembering a commitment to meet with his study group. Naturally, the task had then fallen to Jisung, and now here he is at nine o’clock at night in the pouring rain trying to find some random fucking parking lot to hand over a toaster. All in the name of saving planet Earth.

He clicks on his high beams, cursing as the rain thickens into a sheet. This is ridiculous.

“Wha—!”

A cat flashes across the headlights. Instincts taking over, he yanks the wheel to the right. The tires scream, the car lurching violently as it hits a pothole buried under the water. The wheel tears out of his grip. Heart in his throat, he stomps the brakes. The car skids, hydroplaning, and his eyes slam shut.

Fuck, this is how he dies. Like a movie, images from his life flash through his mind. Family dinners spent with his brother and parents. Late nights clubbing surrounded by his friends. The kiss he’d never gotten from the sulky mechanic who lives in his mind.

Grabbing the wheel again, the car shudders a second time as it smacks into a curb before coming to a stop. Heart banging like a drum, he pats his chest and legs. Oh fuck, he’s alive! Looking around, he spots the bright entrance of a laundromat and collapses forward in relief. Shaking, he curls around himself, counting his breaths. Tears blur his vision, and all he wants is to be back at his apartment. He’s never helping Hyunjin again!

A rapping sound comes from the window, and bolting upright, he wipes at the tears in his eyes. Outside and standing in the rain, a man close to his age waves at him. “Are you okay?”

Sniffling, he fumbles for the door, climbing out on shaky legs. “I-I’m okay. There was a cat, a-and I swerved to miss it.” In seconds, he’s soaked and shivering.

Scanning him, the stranger’s eyes move from Jisung’s face down to his shoes, currently drowning in a puddle. “I heard the wheels squeal and saw you spinning.” A hand lands on his shoulder, and he flinches.

Stepping away, he moves to the passenger side to assess the damage, praying along the way that whatever the problem is, it can be solved quickly. Holding his breath, he surveys the scene and feels grateful. Looks like a flat tire and a few scratches are the worst of it. He’s never changed a tire before, but how hard can it be? With any luck, he can swap out the flat for the spare and be home in time to cuss Hyunjin out.

The thought has no sooner crossed his mind when he hears a sputter from the engine and the car shudders a third time. “Fuck!” Rushing back to the driver’s side, he gets to the seat right as the engine stalls, the dashboard going dark. “No no no.” Pressing the brake pedal, he jabs the start button… nothing. “Oh, fuck… fuck!” Slapping the steering wheel, he hangs his head. Things have gone from bad to worse.

From beside him, a high whistle splits the air, and he looks to his left. Clinging to the doorframe, the man who’d checked on him leans inside the car's cabin, and Jisung automatically shifts to the right, trying to make himself small. He appreciates the concern, but the stranger is a little too close for comfort. Not to mention the odor of alcohol and sweat coming off him. Leaning into the car, dark eyes roam the leather interior before sliding back to the driver.

Pushing down the shiver tingling up his spine, Jisung looks away, searching instead for his phone. Patting around the floorboard and under the seat, the cold drip of fear fills him when he comes up empty-handed. Where is it? Did it slide to the passenger side?

“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

The comment has goose bumps growing on his skin, and sitting up, he notices the man’s gaze is now focused on the gold chain looped around his neck. “I’m from Seoul.” Popping the rear hood, Jisung points to the gap between the man and the door. “Do you mind?” He needs to get out of the enclosed space and away from the stranger.

“Sure, sure.” 

Sliding past the man, rain pummels him, and he regrets leaving his umbrella at home. The short trip has turned into a nightmare he’ll never forgive Hyunjin for. Fuck future generations! Preserving the planet for children the two gay men will never have isn’t worth this!

Outside of the car, what little light the dim streetlights provide is blocked by the raised hood, and the engine compartment is pitch black as he stares into it. Not that he knows what to look for, but he’d hoped the problem was related to whatever battery issue Minho had warned about, and he could simply tighten it down.

Reaching in, his fingers brush against something hot, and he jerks his hand back, hissing in pain and shaking his wrist. “Damn it.” Looking over his shoulder, he finds the stranger watching, the man’s face cast in the shadow of the raised hood. The hairs on the back of his neck stand, and he hates that such a creepy guy is the only one who’d come to help. Although help is a bit of an exaggeration. Why hasn’t he offered to call emergency services?

“My phone is lost in the car. Can I use yours as a flashlight? If I can’t get it running, I may need to borrow it to call a tow truck.”

“I don’t mind.”

Relieved to have even the tiniest bit of support, he holds his hand out waiting as the man reaches into his pocket.

“You won’t be calling anyone, though.”

“What? I-”

Steel flashes in the streetlight, and Jisung feels faint. Pointed at him is a knife, the smile on the stranger’s face replaced with a cruel smirk.

“A sweet thing like you should know better than to come here after dark.”

Holding his hands up, Jisung trembles. Terror flushing through his veins as the man steps closer, leveling the point of the knife just inches from his chest. A second high whistle rings out, and from the side of the laundromat cast in shadow, a person steps into the light.

“What do we have here?” The cold voice draws closer, and joining his assailant, the newcomer rakes his eyes down Jisung and over his car. “Looks like someone is lost. It’s a good thing you were here, Kinhoon.”

Petrified, Jisung watches as the one who’d pretended to help him reaches forward, ripping the gold chain from around his neck. His tender skin stings from the action, but if this is as bad as it gets, he’ll be eternally grateful. He knows what he’s supposed to say in situations like this. “Take anything you want. I-I have cash in the car; I’m not going to fight or yell for help.” The squeaky quality of his voice gives away just how scared he is.

Mocking laughter answers him, and his blood runs cold. “Aw. Sweet thing. You really don’t know where you are, do you? In Guryong, you can scream all you want; no one listens. Now, give me the watch and rings. Inseong, his phone is somewhere in the car. Find it.”

“Yeah, Ki.” 

Shaking, he attempts to remove his Rolex, but his frozen fingers refuse to cooperate. He struggles for a second before the one with the knife loses patience. “Hurry the fuck up!” Grabbing his arm, the man drags him forward, and Jisung cries out in terror.

“Rich bitch is too scared to think.”

His watch is torn from him, leaving the skin beneath it burning, and knees threatening to give out, he clenches his hands trying to stay still while the man quickly strips him of his jewelry. Falling harder than before, rain mixes with his fear-induced tears, and he has to blink twice to confirm he’s seeing things right. Over his assailant’s shoulder, a light shines in the distance, bringing with it the sound of a motorcycle coming their way.

As the man pats him down, a hand suddenly cups his ass, and Jisung yelps on instinct, jerking away. “No!”

He manages only two steps before a hand clamps around his elbow and yanks him back. Pain explodes across the left side of his face, and his knees buckle.

“Stupid fuck! Stay still!”

The roar of a loud engine stops next to them, and Jisung sobs. Cheek throbbing, he looks up and directly into a black helmet. His face reflected back at him in the rider’s mirrored visor as the man’s attention switches from Jisung to the person standing over him.

“Inseong, get over here!” Jerking his head to the right, Kinhoon squares his shoulders. “Keep moving, buddy. We found him first.” 

The person tearing his car apart crawls out of the passenger compartment to back up his partner. “You know the rules. He’s ours.”

Blooding pounding in his ears, Jisung stares at the rider, praying he’ll ignore whatever rules the men are referring to. After a second that lasts forever, the rider drops the bike’s kickstand, and if he weren’t crying already, he’d start now.

“Let it go, man. This is none of your business.” The grip on his arm disappears as the first robber brandishes his knife towards the would-be rescuer. Grateful to be freed, Jisung drags himself backward through a puddle, away from the men as the rider climbs off his bike.

“I’m not play-”

A fist lands square on the man’s jaw, silencing the threat, and mouth falling open, Jisung watches in shock as the motorcyclist disarms Kinhoon in seconds. The guy’s friend jumps in, but before Jisung can worry for the rider’s safety, the second robber collapses, curling in a ball to protect his face from a flurry of punches. The first one moves to get up, but a quick hit to the temple sends him back to the ground.

Chest heaving, his rescuer leaves the two crippled in favor of turning to Jisung, and for a moment, fear stops his heart. What if the man isn’t planning to help, but instead takes over the robbery? A gloved hand unties the strap keeping his helmet on, and the sight of a pointed jaw, sharp nose, and dark eyes pulls a choked sob from him. Minho.

“Hyung!” Using the car for support, Jisung forces his legs to work and manages to stand just long enough for Minho to reach him before falling into his arms. Trembling, he buries his face in a leather-clad shoulder, his whole body shaking from the force of his relieved sobs. “Min! Hyung… Oh my God, thank you. I-”

“Fuck! Lee Know?!”

The shout has them both turning towards the men on the ground, and he presses himself tighter to Minho’s chest. Lee Know? Fear clear on their faces, the one who’d pretended to help him starts apologizing. “I’m sorry, if I’d known he was yours, I’d have left him alone.”

“You should’ve thought twice before jumping him in the first place.” Anger deepens Minho’s voice, and Jisung nearly melts from the sound of it.

Standing, the man pulls his friend up by the armpits. “A car like that? Man, Youmi’s pregnant. I couldn’t ignore it. I need the money. Your boy should’ve dropped your name right away.”

Gaze cold and lethal with anger, Minho takes a step forward. “A car like his should be a clear sign he wasn’t here for a fucking joy ride. His family has enough weight to see you both doing life for petty theft!”

“Please!” Pleading eyes turn to him, and Jisung flinches. His cheek is still throbbing from the backhand the man had dealt. “I’m sorry. I can’t go to prison. I-I have a baby on the way!”

Holding him tighter, Minho looks down, connecting their eyes. “What do you want to do? I can call the police or…”

Shaking his head, Jisung sniffles, sucking back his tears. “No. I-I just want my stuff back.”

Silence answers him, followed by a heavy puff of air from the elder’s nose and then… “You heard him.”

As Kinhoon pulls the stolen jewelry from his pockets, real remorse flickers in his eyes. ‘If I’d known he was yours, I’d have backed off.’

Jisung’s mind erupts with questions, all narrowing to a single point. Who exactly is Lee Know… and what makes these men terrified of him?

Steely gaze narrowed on the would-be assailants, Minho watches Jisung’s jewelry get stacked on the hood of his car. “Say thank you for his kindness.”

Spoken in a commanding voice, the elder’s aggressive tone would be doing dangerous things to him if he weren’t still in shock from the robbery attempt. Minho is always so soft-spoken.

“Thank you for not pressing charges, and we’re sorry. Truly.”

Leather brushes against Jisung’s jaw, guiding his face upward, and dark eyes land on the red mark blooming on his skin.

Jaw clenched, the next words are a gentle whisper. “Stay right here.”

Reluctantly, he frees Minho to approach the others, and as fast as he’d done it the first time, his repeat rescuer is standing over Kinhoon, landing hit after hit to the man’s face. Finished with the beating, Minho stands upright, and the other one throws his hand up, backing away. “I didn’t touch him.”

Spitting at the man’s feet, Minho takes a step back towards Jisung. “Get the fuck out of here, and if I see you at the fight this week, you won’t be walking away.”

The two robbers flee, and adrenaline crashing, Jisung slumps against his car. Cradling his face in his hands, he listens to their retreating footsteps, counting to ten in an attempt to wrangle his breathing under control. It’s been years since he’s taken anxiety medicine, but after tonight, he may need to visit a physician… or score a fat blunt. Warmth falls around his shoulders, the smell of mint and leather filling his nose as Minho’s jacket swamps him.

Dropping his hands, he looks through wet lashes to find Minho studying him, the elder’s brow crinkled in worry. “Jisung, what are you doing here?”

Hearing his name in place of Han for the first time, in such a tender way, has his heart stuttering. Lips quivering, he hates how pathetic he not only looks right now, but feels. “My friend sold something on an app. I was coming to hand it off to the buyer.” Pulling Minho’s leather jacket tight across his shoulders, he nods towards the passenger seat and the toaster that’d started everything.

“A fucking toaster?” Anger returns to the man’s voice. “You have more money than God, and yet you drove to the slums at night to sell a fucking toaster?!”

Minho’s anger ignites his own, and while it’s pointless, he defends himself. “I didn’t know the address was in Guryong until I passed your shop. A-and Hyunjin says a “throw away” mentality is what leads to trash build up in the oceans, and it’s our responsibility as adults to leave the world better for the next generation. Recycling is one way to do that!” Emotions raw and pride bleeding, his tears return. “Thank you for saving me yet again, hyung, but I have a father and older brother who are more than happy to scold me. The last thing I need is you treating me like a child and making this my fault!”

Guilt softens the elder’s dark eyes. “Jisung, I -”

Swiping at his runny nose, Jisung wishes there was a hole he could bury himself in. As if Minho didn’t already think he was lame enough after the other week, he’s now witnessing him drip snot. “This is not my fault or Hyunjin’s. I blame the suicidal cat that jumped in front of a moving car. If it weren’t for him, I’d have gone to 7-Eleven, handed off the damn toaster, and be in bed right now.”

“Look…” Running fingers through his rain-soaked hair, Minho sighs. “… I hate to break it to you, but had you gone to that convenience store, chances are good you’d have been robbed there too. This is the last part of Seoul you want to be in at night.”

Blinking up at the man, he accepts the statement as true but… “But you’re here…”

Expression incredulous, Minho scoffs. “Because I grew up down the street and still live close by. Jesus Jisung. You should not be here. You have zero street smarts.”

Insulted for the last time, he shoves past the man only to be trapped in a tight hug from behind. “Calm down. I’m sorry.”

Locked in Minho’s arms and drowning in mint, his pulse stutters, his anger replaced with exhaustion and raw nerves. “I wanna go home.” Great, now he sounds whiny on top of looking like a no-street-smarts pathetic loser…

Warm breath skirts across the side of his throat. “I know. Give me a minute to look at your car, and I’ll get you back on the road.”

Separating, he shivers at the loss of contact. Minho is not only the warmth he needs but the safety he craves. The attackers may be gone, but a part of him is still scared. Needing a distraction, he climbs in the car in search of his phone. After tonight, Hyunjin very well may owe him a new car. Squeezing his hand behind the passenger seat, his fingers touch glass right as a muffled curse comes from under the rear hood.

_______

“Thanks, Hanuel. I know it’s late, I owe you one.”

Left arm and head hanging out the driver’s window, Hanuel looks to the rear of his tow truck, where Jisung stands furiously typing on his phone. “Nah, no favors owed for this one. Just make sure you win this Saturday and take care of your boy there. He got roughed up pretty good.”

On reflex, Minho goes to stuff his hands in his pockets only to remember his jacket is currently being held hostage. The worn black leather betraying him by looking far better on Jisung’s small frame than his own. “He’s not my boy. Just a customer.”

Skepticism evident on his face, the driver shrugs. “Whatever, none of my business. Although you’ve never called me past sundown for a mere customer before. Have a good night, Min.”

“He’s my best customer.” The response is missed as Hanuel is already driving off with Jisung’s Maserati chained to the back. The tow driver’s observation is blatantly incorrect, and he refuses to put any more thought into it. He’s never called for a tow after dark because he hasn’t needed one. Jisung has nothing to do with it. To be motivated by anything else would be a mistake.

“Shit!”

A dozen feet away, Jisung curses before scrubbing his hands over his face in annoyance. That can’t be good. After Minho had determined the car could not be fixed on the side of the road with no parts or tools, Jisung had started calling his friends for a ride.

“Everything okay?”

Soaked to the bone, the younger turns obscenely large eyes in his direction. The tan skin around them turning red from suppressed tears for the umpteenth time. “I can’t get a hold of anyone. Hyunjin isn't picking up, and my calls to Seungmin are going straight to voicemail. He’s the type of crazy that lives with his phone on do not disturb.”

Alone and without the distraction of fixing a car or calling a tow, Minho doesn’t know what to say. He thinks the guy’s friends are jackasses for not answering. Especially considering he blames the situation on the one who’d sold the toaster to begin with. Sinking deeper into his borrowed jacket, Jisung scuffs his shoes against the ground.

“You can go, hyung. I’ll call a taxi and wait in the laundromat. You’ve done enough for me tonight. Here…” Sliding out of the coat, Jisung tries to hand it over, but Minho makes no move to take it. The rain has calmed to a slow drizzle, but exposed to the air for just a few seconds, he is already shivering.

“Taxis don’t come here after dark; the drivers won’t take the risk.”

Idea shot down, Jisung looks lost, and Minho dislikes the sympathetic pang in his heart. An option… the only option he can think of is one he would rather not voice. The thought of taking the man back to his place simultaneously brings him comfort and concern. With Minho, Jisung’s safety is guaranteed, but taking him home goes against everything he’s been telling himself for months now. Keeping his distance is for the best, but…

“Come on. You can stay at my place for the night, and in the morning call someone to pick you up, or I’ll take you home.” Changbin and Chan can never hear about this.

“Y-your place?!” The only thing more annoying than how cute Jisung looks when he’s surprised is how easily Minho is affected by it. Avoiding the sparkly wet eyes looking up at him in awe, he grabs his helmet off the bike, offering it to Jisung.

“It’s the best plan I’ve got. Your friends aren’t answering, and a taxi won’t pick up here. I could take you now, but I assume you live in Gangnam, and that’s too far to ride with only one helmet. I have a car at home, but by the time I get you there and then to your place, we’ll both end up catching a cold from being soaked. Do you have a better idea?”

Taking the helmet from him, Jisung gives the motorcycle a nervous look. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

It’s tempting to say ‘it’s too late for that,’ but he suspects that’ll only lead to Jisung crying again. Taking him home is a bad idea. Through the gap in his jacket, he can see the man’s rain soaked shirt plastered to his chest, and temptation is already knocking at the door of his mind. He’s playing with fire, but he can’t just leave him here; the moment Minho rides off his safety will be compromised.

“It’s not a bother, let’s go.” Before Jisung can counter with another question, Minho takes the helmet back, plopping it over the man’s head. The fit is a little loose, but it’ll work for the short ride. There’s also the added bonus of it keeping him quiet. If forced to answer questions, he’ll start doubting his sanity even further. He’s supposed to be staying away from the pretty boy, not inviting him into his home.

Starting the bike’s engine he straddles the padded seat, extending a hand out in invitation. Trembling fingers lace with his gloved ones, and the man climbs on. Shivering arms wrap around his waist, and closing his eyes, he curses his erratic heartbeat. Jisung’s weight resting on him feels better than he’d imagined. He has pictured the brunette’s hands on him before… Only in his mind, there was far less clothing, and instead of being cold, their faces were flushed, breaths staggered, and Jisung’s tears were from pleasure. FUCK!

Shaking his head to drive those thoughts away, he shifts into first gear, taking off in the direction of his apartment. The bike jolting has an audible squeak coming from behind him, and the arms holding his waist squeeze tighter. A smile he’s helpless to fight pulls at his lips.

**

Pushing the door wide, Minho steps aside so Jisung can enter first. Air conditioning blasts from the interior, and they aren’t inside long before the chill of their wet clothes has them both shaking. Removing his wet boots, he watches the other struggle to step out of his platform Chuck Taylors. Absorbed in looking around the apartment, Jisung’s fingers lazily tug at his shoelaces. His attention zooms around the small space as he looks from the kitchen to the living room. 

Doubt creeps in as curious eyes land on a stack of mail, a few dishes left in the sink, and a basket of clean clothes resting next to the couch. “It’s not a penthouse by any means. If uh… if I’d known someone would be coming over, I’d have cleaned up.”

A smile splits Jisung’s face as he finally steps free from his shoes, the white of his socks waterlogged and transparent. “It’s perfect. But I did imagine there’d be more automotive stuff.”

Setting aside the admission that Jisung has tried to envision his house, the word perfect plays on repeat in his mind. This tiny apartment? Perfect? Nah, he’s just been nice. Before Minho can clarify what’d been meant by “automotive stuff,” a soft gasp fills the quiet space.

“You have cats!?”

Beelining for the living room, Jisung drops to his knees right as two curious bundles of fur slink out from behind the couch. Noses twitching, his youngest babies creep forward cautiously to inspect the stranger in their midst.

“Three, actually. That’s Doongie and Dori. More than likely Soonie is in my room.”

“They’re precious!” Having passed the cats’ assessment, Jisung scoops Doongie in his arms, snuggling the purring cat to his chest, and Minho isn’t sure who is more precious. The chunky orange tabby, or the stunning man holding him. “We have a family dog, Bbama, but he lives with my parents.”

“Where the hell have you been?!“

Spooked by the loud shout, Doongie jumps from the man’s arms, running for cover right as an angry Jeongin steps into the room. “Hyung. It’s late as fu- oh, hello…” Gawking like a dumbass, his brother jerks to a stop in the hallway wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

SHIT! Between fighting in the street and worrying over Jisung, he’d known he was forgetting something.

Rushing up from the ground, Jisung hurries to shield himself behind Minho, the younger’s hands groping at his sides as he peers over the elder’s shoulder. “Felix said you were single…”

The comment has him both cursing his meddling friends and panicking at the same time. Lix is blabbing about his personal life… but that also means Jisung has been asking about it.

Stepping fully into the room, Jeongin tries to see around Minho’s larger frame. An evil, gleeful smile twisting his lips. “Hyung is one thousand percent single! I’m Jeongin, his brother. And you are?”

Lips pushed outward in a thoughtful pout, Jisung visibly relaxes. “Brother? I thought you were in college?”

Right hand twitching, Minho has to resist the urge to smack a palm against his forehead in frustration. What the hell? Felix must be giving crumbs of his history each time Jisung visits the shop.

“I am, but I live here. It’s cheaper than staying on campus.”

“Ok, enough.” Interrupting the two, Minho glares at his brother. “Cover yourself, please. This is Han Jisung, he’s a customer from the shop.”

Digging sweatpants out from the laundry basket, Jeongin tugs them on, sending a mischievous look his way. Shit. Much like Changbin, Jeongin lives to tease him. “Hyung, if I’d known you were bringing a date home, I’d have gone to the library to study. Jisung huh? Isn’t he the one who-”

Nope, no way! The situation is seconds from getting out of hand, and he needs to put a stop to it. “He is no-”

“I’m not a date.” Speaking over him, Jisung takes Minho’s jacket off, hanging it on the back of a chair. “Hyung helped me out earlier and is letting me stay the night. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jeongin’s eyes slide over Jisung’s wet, see-through shirt, and something he cannot name twists in Minho’s gut. “Innie, it’s been a long night. Let’s get our guest in the shower, and I’ll explain everything.” Putting his hand on a sloped lower back, he directs Jisung towards the bathroom. “Towels are under the sink, and I’ll leave some pajamas outside for you.” 

Opening the door, he flicks on the light, breathing a sigh of relief at finding the tiled room appropriately clean. He and Jeongin aren’t slobs by any means, but like anyone, it can get out of hand if they don’t pick up as they go. “I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to but…”

Turning in place, Jisung rests a palm on his chest. Warmth builds at the point of contact, and he wants to press closer. A red flag that means, in reality, he should step away. “Hyung, please stop saying that. The apartment, the bathroom, lending me clothes… all of it’s perfect. You’ve done more than enough to help me tonight.”

Soft, kind eyes lock with his. Eyes that could destroy him with their ability to make Minho want things he shouldn’t. This close, breathing, much less thinking, is hard… Even soaking wet, with a red nose and smudged makeup, Jisung is pretty. His pouty lips pursed in worry. His dark hair damp with rain, and his sweet, round face studying the elder just as hard as Minho is studying him.

Mind occupied with the fact that they’re touching, he can only answer with a nod. He rationalizes that again, the man is exercising good manners. Jisung is practiced in social niceties and knows better than to insult the place he’s been given to stay.

“If you-” Voice raspy, Minho clears his throat. “If you need anything, just call for me.”

“Thank you.” The words are whispered, a hint of something mixed with the breathy tone. Lashes fluttering, Jisung’s gaze drops to his lips, and that’s enough to have Minho’s brain slam on the brakes. Error! Warning!

Gripping the doorknob, he steps backward, slamming the door closed with more force than necessary. Shutting his eyes, he rests against the barrier, mentally running through the reasons he’s resisting the clearly mutual attraction between them. Disparities in money, social status, and ultimately their wants… Jisung wants a good time ride, and Minho… needs more. Hook-ups are not his thing. His father would always come and go as he pleased, and seeing the hurt his mother endured when the man inevitably left again had lasting effects. To this day, Minho dislikes casual affairs.

A scoff comes from his left, and he looks to see Jeongin leaning against the wall, watching as if this were his favorite romantic comedy. “It’s really not this complicated, hyung.”

“Fuck off.” Mumbling, he pushes away from the door, heading straight for the kitchen. He should change out of his wet clothes, but will wait until he’s certain Jisung is warm and dry.

“So that’s him?” Following behind, Jeongin helps by pulling out a mug and a box of tea. “The customer who breaks his car just to see you…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Whispering, Minho ducks his head, looking through the open wall that bridges the kitchen with the rest of the apartment. Thankfully, he hears the shower running and trusts that Jisung hadn’t heard. “How do you know about that?!”

Jeongin shrugs. “Changbin-hyung told me.”

“Of course he did. You need to get your own friends.”

The harsh tone has his brother’s eyebrows lifting. “I thought you liked us having the same friends? They keep an eye out for me, and report back to you with any trouble I’ve made.” 

Not this argument again. “Innie, I’ve already apologized for that, and it was just the one time. I’ve promised to stay out of it. Felix no longer tells me about the people you’re dating.”

“Well, payback is a bitch, and now I have my chance. Spill it, hyung. What is he doing here?” Crossing his arms, Jeongin leans against the counter, making it clear he will not be moving on from this topic. “What did he break this time? He cut off his own catalytic converter? That would be a good one.”

Slamming his hand down, Minho prays the two men don’t converse during Jisung’s stay. The last thing he needs is his brother giving the man ideas. Confirming the kettle still has water in it, he turns the stove on, pulling a bottle of whiskey down from their small selection of liquor.

“He didn’t break anything. The idiot’s just out here trying to save the world one tiny kitchen appliance at a time and decided to sell a toaster on a resale app. With a handoff in Guryong of all places. He lost control of the car in the rain and wiped out. He’s lucky I happened to drive past the wreck on my way home. Kinhoon and Inseong found him.”

“Shit.” The smile on his brother’s face disappears. “How bad was it?”

They both know he isn’t asking about the wreck.

“Bad.” Clenching his fist, he takes a deep breath, fighting down the rage returning to him. Seeing Jisung trembling, with a red mark on his cheek and tears gathering in his eyes, had Minho calculating the best place to bury two bodies. He was raised in the slums, where the rules are simple and unforgiving. Stay out of other people’s business, keep walking if the danger isn’t yours, never involve the cops, and protect your own.

If the person being mugged had been anyone but Jisung, he wouldn’t have stopped.

Through the visor of his helmet, he’d looked into swollen, fear-heavy eyes, and his heart had broken. Jisung’s beautiful face should never look like that, bruised and frightened. He should be protected; kept safe from the horrors of the world his pampered life has kept him ignorant of.

Kinhoon is lucky that Minho’s rage had been divided between worry and retribution. If not, Guryong would be short two petty criminals tonight.

Reminded of the bruise on a soft tan cheek, he grabs a plastic bag, filling it with ice from the freezer. “They roughed him up a bit. Took his jewelry and were in the process of stripping his car when I rolled up.”

“Jeez. The guy is a magnet for trouble.”

Chuckling softly, he nods in agreement. When the kettle whistles, Minho takes it off the heat and finishes preparing their guest’s tea. He splashes a shot of whiskey into the cup, pours himself a glass, and downs it in one go. “Don’t I know it.”

“Minho?”

From the hallway comes the soft call of his name, and his heart stumbles… he blames the whiskey. “You done?” He answers back.

“Yeah, but you said there would be clothes by the door…”

“Oh, shit.” Sliding past his brother, he reaches into the clean laundry basket, grabbing the first shirt and pair of sweats he finds. “Sorry about that. I was making you a cup of tea and forgot.”Approaching the bathroom door, he sees it’s cracked open, a hand waiting for him.

“That’s okay.”

Handing off the change of clothes, he catches sight of an arm and bare shoulder flushed pink from the shower, and looking away physically hurts. Jisung is naked in his house. Sinful pictures powered by the shot and an overactive imagination come to mind. The man’s waist and plump ass, bare for him to touch. No towel would be needed if Minho were to fall to his knees, licking and kissing the drops of water away. Doe-eyes would watch as his tongue traced every inch of-

“Hyung?” 

Wrenched from his fantasy, Minho gulps as Jisung steps into the hall. 

“Is this part of the design?”

Confused, he looks over the outfit, choking on air when Jisung turns around. The back of the sweatpants has a massive hole, and through it, the curve of a butt cheek stands out. “Oh my God, no! Here… I have some in my room that are good.”

If his memory were photographic, Minho’s brain would store away the picture of Jisung’s butt cheek for life. An image to be revisited, preferably when he’s alone and can put a hand around himself. Goddamn. He’d only seen a piece of it and now knows for a fact that it is perfectly round and squishy.

Willing away the heat on his face, he heads towards his room with the sound of Jisung’s footsteps trailing behind. “I should have checked them first. Soonie gets anxious when he’s home alone and has a habit of chewing on cotton. I swear the cat is part moth. That’s the sixth pair of pants he’s ruined.” Searching through a drawer, he finds a pair of joggers, confirming they’re hole-free. “These are good.”

Turning around, he officially regrets the decision to bring Jisung home. Knee balanced on Minho’s bed, the man’s butt cheek is on full display as he pets Soonie. The chunky lump of fur shaped like a loaf of bread purrs, happily accepting the attention lavished on him by a new face. Avoiding the tan skin trying to make eye contact with him, he shoves the pants into Jisung’s side. “Y-you should change.”

“Sure…”

With zero warning, the holey sweats hit the floor, and Minho is whipping around to face the opposite direction. What the ever-loving fuck?! Heart banging like a full drum line, he prays to never forget the sight of Jisung’s entire ass. As far as butts go, it’s the prettiest he’s ever seen. The round globes are the perfect size for his hands, and if he hadn’t sworn to stay away from the man, he’d bury his face between those cheeks until he suffocated. What a way to go.

“These are much better.”

Facing back around, he sees Jisung’s neck is scorched red and is willing to bet the peep show was on purpose. Why else would he strip right in front of him? Shutting down the lust growing in his gut, Minho shoos the man out of the room. “There’s tea in the kitchen and a bag of ice for your cheek. I’ll get you set up on the couch after I shower.” He needs to compartmentalize what just happened and pretend he saw nothing.

**

“Are you serious? You have to be lying…”

Wiping condensation off the bathroom mirror, Minho listens as laughter-fueled conversation filters in from the outside, and he scrubs his teeth that much harder. At the rate he’s going, either his toothbrush will give out, or he’s filing his gums down. Another round of giggles comes through the closed bathroom door, and he spits out the minty foam. That’s it. Jisung has been alone with his brother long enough.

After triple-checking to ensure his sweatpants are hole-free, he leaves the bathroom to find the scene waiting for him is as bad as he’d feared. Sprawled on the couch, Innie’s head rests in Jisung’s lap as Dori sniffs at the brunette’s ankles. On the table in front of them sits the whiskey Minho had pulled out earlier, the bottle now significantly less filled than it had been before.

“Ahem!” Clearing his throat has the opposite effect of what he’d intended, and the two burst into another round of laughter.

“He did not!” Wiping at his eyes, Jeongin sits up, pouring another shot. “Hyung! Come drink with us! Sungie was just telling me about the time Thor picked him up and carried him around the Oscars after party.”

“Thor?” Impressed by the story, Minho manages to keep his face blank as he pries the whiskey bottle from Jeongin’s fingers. Eyeballing Jisung’s empty cup of tea, he refrains from fussing at the man. After the night he’s had, the guy deserves to unwind. His brother, however, is a different matter entirely. “Go to bed, you have an early class tomorrow.”

“Aww, hyung! Please, not the overbearing brother routine. It’s only midnight.”

Years of exposure have made him immune to the pouting; Jisung, it appears, is not. Setting his sparkling boba eyes in Minho’s direction, the man does a flawless impression of his brother. “Yeah hyuuuung. Pleeeease. We’re just having some fun.”

Ignoring this plea is much more difficult, and the corner of his mouth nearly twitches. “Nope. Up and bed. You need straight A’s to maintain your scholarship.”

“Ugh!” In true little brother fashion, Jeongin kicks his feet, but still moves to comply. “You’re mean!”

“And you’re twenty-two going on five.”

Sticking his tongue out, Jeongin winks at Jisung. “I hope you like ‘em bossy. Min loves to be in control.”

Scampering away, his brother makes it out of the room with Minho’s foot narrowly missing his ass. Ears burning, he offers an apologetic smile while moving to fill Jeongin’s now empty place on the couch. “You’ll have to excuse him. I’m convinced my mother adopted Innie from the zoo. I locked him in a cage once, but he managed to escape.”

Hiding a grin behind a hand, Jisung shakes his head. “He’s cute, and I like seeing your dynamic. I’ve never heard you talk this much.”

Embarrassed by the observation, Minho fills a shot glass with whiskey. He has work tomorrow, but with Jisung here, alcohol is needed. Taking the shot, he hisses past the burn before passing the bottle off. Silence stretches between them as his unexpected house guest pours himself another drink, and he isn’t sure what to say. Should he talk at all? Theoretically, they could sit in silence. He’s less likely to succumb to the man’s charms that way. Ultimately, his mother’s training on being a polite host wins.

“Are you warm enough?”

“I am, thank you.”

In hindsight, the question was stupid. Jisung is, in fact, covered with two blankets.

“And how are you feeling?”

Shuffling his now empty shot glass between hands, Jisung peeks over. The tiny glance has Minho contemplating the merits of hiding in his room for the rest of the night. It’s simply unfair that a single person can be both cute and sexy. The younger’s soft face and eyes are at odds with the picture of sin that is his petite, yet muscled body.

“I-I’m okay. More embarrassed than anything else, really. I should’ve known better.”

Sadness taints what is usually a cheerful and happy voice; the loss sits like a weight on Minho’s shoulders. “I’m sorry for losing my temper earlier. Tonight was not your fault. You know that, right?”

The question earns him a small shrug. “I should have confirmed the address before leaving, and definitely shouldn’t have gone alone. If you hadn’t shown up, I-”

The faint hitch in Jisung’s voice silences every alarm in Minho’s head, and without thinking, he moves over, closing the distance between them. Slipping the shot glass from Jisung’s hands, he places it on the coffee table, threading their fingers together. “Don’t dwell on that. I’m here now, and you’re safe.”

Lips wobbling, Jisung smiles, and he knows he’s fucked up. They’re too close. The hand holding his is too warm, and the eyes staring back at him are too soulful and stunning when filled with tears. A drop spills over, and without permission, his free hand moves to wipe it away. Thumb grazing the bruise growing on an adorable, chubby cheek, his brain stalls. Skin shouldn’t be this smooth, this soft. Gone from his mind are the reasons he should pull away, and instead, all he can think about is the face slowly drawing closer to his.

A warm palm covers his hand, and his heart breaks at the tiny flinch Jisung makes from the additional pressure to his cheek.

“He hit you. I wish I’d gotten there sooner.”

Whiskey-tinted breath blows across Minho’s lips, and his brain ceases to function. Have Jisung’s eyes always been so deep? Bottomless and warm, they’re more intoxicating than any liqueur could ever hope to be. 

“Hyung, you’ve done more than enough. When you pulled your helmet off and I realized it was you. I knew then… everything would be okay.”

With their faces just inches apart, he can’t tell who leans in first. All he knows is the soft brush of a rounded nose against his own, and the sudden, shaky breath it drags out of him. He should pull back. This is not what he’d invited Jisung over for.

Or maybe it is…

Maybe he’s known since the beginning that if they were left alone, he would succumb to the want that has been torturing him for months. The desire had settled into his bones the minute he’d laid eyes on the man. If he’d accepted Jisung’s offer for lunch that day, would he already know what the younger tastes like? How the skin beneath Minho’s hands would feel?

Lips hover over his, the space between them reduced to a fraction, but still Jisung waits. Soft eyes filled with a single question stare into his… he knows the answer. He’s known it for months now. He knew it the first day Jisung walked into his shop, claiming his car was making a strange noise, and Minho had done a double take.

Driven by whiskey, his fears slip away, and he closes the distance between them. Full lips press against his, and it feels… damn good. A whine escapes Jisung, and the last of Minho’s defenses crumble. The hand cupping the man’s bruised cheek moves, and, grabbing the back of Jisung’s neck, he drags him into his lap.

They devour each other, fingers tangling in purple hair, their mouths falling into perfect synchronization. Hungry for more, he pushes his tongue past the seam of pouty lips, and arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in deeper. Fuck fuck fuck. They’re good together, great even. Needy whines come from the younger, and he shivers as their tongues meet. The little sounds Jisung makes as they fall together are sexy… addictive.

Nails scratch at his scalp, and he lets out a groan of his own. A heavy growl that has Jisung shaking in his arms. He can’t remember the last time he’s been kissed like this, or if he ever has. Jisung kisses as if Minho’s lungs hold the last breath of air on earth. Each meeting of their mouths is deeper, hungrier than the last. Jisung sucks on his tongue, and Minho loses control of his body. Hips driving upward, his cock grinds into a plush ass. Mirroring the motion, Jisung pushes down, and they slot together flawlessly.

Licking into the younger’s mouth, he tastes the whiskey they’d drunk and the words left unspoken between them. He feels the pull he’s denied and the want he’d hoped to forget. Cock throbbing in his pants, they rock together, moaning in unison. Teeth bite into his bottom lip, and Jisung pulls away, forcing Minho to follow as the man lies backward on the couch. Legs wind around his waist, dragging them together, and the ridge of a hard cock grinds into his abs. Fuck, Jisung is just as turned on as him.

A hand crawls up his back, fingertips massaging his spine and rucking his shirt up. Desperate to feel more, he pulls back, stripping the loose material over his head. Hazy, half-lidded eyes sweep over his chest, and Jisung’s mouth pops open in a silent gasp. “Holy fuck, Hyung, you’re…”

Leaning down, he bites at the shell of the younger’s ear, cutting the praise off and celebrating the moan it draws forth. Beneath him, Jisung squirms, and pulling the man’s shirt up, he chokes at the tight stomach burning under his hands. Abandoning the man’s toned core, he scoops Jisung in his arms, lifting the small of his back. Hands slipping under the waistband of borrowed sweats, his fingers strike gold.

Squeezing the man’s ass, he scrapes his teeth along the column of a tan throat, fucking his hips forward. Soft cries of “yes” and “please” reach his ears, and he’s in heaven. Jisung is soft, beautiful. Everything he’d imagined he would be, and so goddamn pliant in his arms. With equal lust, he meets Minho’s every thrust, every kiss, and teasing touch.

Between them, a hand slithers down Minho’s chest, dipping into his sweats, his mind spinning when a hot palm wraps around his cock. Leaning back, he sees the red marks his tongue and teeth have left behind on a tan neck. Proof that he was here and Jisung belongs to…

His thoughts short-circuit, and as soon as he understands where they were headed, his spine seizes, cold ripping through him like he’s been dunked in ice water. Under him, Jisung whines, squirms, searching for contact.

What is he doing?! This is a mistake… He’d sworn not to do this again! Jisung isn’t his and never will be. He can’t allow himself to be used. To be nothing but a notch in a gold-plated bedpost.

Greedy lips chase after his mouth, peppering kisses along his jaw. “M-minho, please… I-I need… so hard…”

NO! Throwing himself sideways, he falls off the couch, bashing his shoulder against the coffee table. The pain is a wake-up call.

“Hyung!” Concerned eyes, wide in shock, skirt over him, asking a silent question. What happened? A hand reaches for him, and he stands, backing away to put space between them.

“I-I can’t.”

“What? Minho, I don’t understand.” Cheeks rosy and breathing heavy, Jisung looks around the room, searching for whatever had caused the disruption. “What happened? We were fine just a second ago… Did I do something?”

“No!” Instinct drives Minho forward to cut off the man’s self-blame, but the second he realizes what he’s doing, he locks up, body going rigid. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just- I can’t, Jisung.” The abrupt stop to the foreplay has his cock aching, and he feels lightheaded. “You and me, we can’t be a thing.”

Hurt fractures beautiful features, sending a stab of guilt to his heart as Jisung’s face falls. Confused, the man licks his lips nervously, wide eyes traveling down Minho’s chest to pause at the outline of his straining erection. “But-”

Voice firm, he grabs his shirt from the floor, pulling it back on. “This isn’t up for debate. Our relationship is professional; you’re my customer. This was a mistake, I’m sorry. You’re welcome to come to the shop, Jisung, but I’m not interested in anything more.” It’s his mouth speaking the words, but internally, Minho is fighting himself. His desires battling with the rational side of his brain… he must stay firm. Insanity is repeating the mistakes of the past, thinking he’ll get a new outcome.

Jaw snapping shut, Jisung wilts. Staying quiet, he folds in on himself, pulling at the waistband of his pants to cover the parts that had been exposed in their brief moment of passion.

Guilt cuts through his gut like a blade, and Minho knows… this is his fault. He never should have brought him here. “I’ll take you home in the morning.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Jisung refuses to look up, and hearing soft sniffles, Minho’s chest aches. Nearly fucking had not been part of the plan, but neither had hurting the man. “Sung-”

Turning his back to him, Jisung pulls the blanket over his head, curling in a ball on the couch. “Just… go, please… There’s nothing left to say.”

Torn between apologizing and keeping his boundaries, Minho hesitates. Fuck! Even if he wanted to fix this, he isn’t sure how to repair the damage done. Unsure of what to do, he opts to leave, pausing in the hallway upon finding the door to Jeongin’s room cracked, his brother watching him in disappointment. He’s rarely on the receiving end of such a look.

“Way to fuck that up.” He whispers.

Moving closer, Minho drops his voice enough to keep the words just between them. “Shut up. It’s complicated.”

Shaking his head, Jeongin’s lips turn downward in a sad frown. “It’s really not, hyung.”

Not in the mood for a lecture, he ends the hushed conversation by shutting himself in his room. Tonight had gone to hell, heaven, and then back to hell again. In the worst way possible, he’d finally managed to turn Jisung down. The image of sparkling eyes morphing to pained with rejection haunts him. He shouldn’t have led him on. Despite mutual attraction, they want different things and aren’t compatible.

The cherry on top of the whole fucked up situation is that he has to see him again. Minho still has to take him home in the morning, and Jisung’s car is at the shop. Fuck… The only saving grace is that once his Maserati is fixed, Jisung will go away. After tonight, he can’t imagine him continuing the facade of having car troubles. At least now, Minho won’t be forced to see his smiling face and wonder what might have been.

**

Shoving down the trepidation he feels, Minho exits his room. As much as he would like to avoid Jisung, he’d promised to take him home in the morning. The short trip to Gangnam will no doubt be awkward, but it’ll give him a chance to apologize for the night before. Somewhere between two am and sunrise, as sleep evaded him, his regret had reached the level necessary to equal shame. He won’t apologize for rejecting Jisung (that is not his fault), but leading him on… kissing him, touching him. For that, he can make amends.

Strained greeting waiting on his tongue, he chokes on the words as he rounds the corner into the living room. The couch is empty. The blankets from the night before neatly folded with a wrinkled pillow on top.

Where is…

“He left about an hour ago.”

Turning away from the empty couch, Minho tracks the voice right as Jeongin’s face appears in the kitchen window, eyes lethal as the skirt over him. “Some guy in a fancy hat showed up driving a Rolls-Royce.”

“You’re kidding?” The news should come as a relief, but instead, Minho’s chest feels tight. He’d been dreading seeing Jisung, but now he’s lost his chance to apologize. 

Spooning a bite of rice into his mouth, Jeongin shakes his head. “Nope. I heard him on the phone. He must have apologized a hundred times for waking the guy up.”

Disappointment he has no right to feel, sours his already bad mood. Jisung had left with no goodbye or warning. “Did you speak with him? Did he uh… say anything?”

Pointing his spoon towards the coffee table, Jeongin gives his brother a cold look. “After your performance last night, he doesn’t owe you a goodbye, much less cash money.”

“What? Money?!”

Running to the coffee table, Minho’s jaw drops at the stack of bills resting under the now empty whiskey bottle. A note scribbled on the back of a paper towel sitting next to it…

Minho-ssi,

Thank you for taking care of me last night. Please accept the cash as payment for the inconvenience I caused, and for finishing the whiskey. I’ll pick my car up this afternoon before closing.

Han.

“Damn it.” Crumpling the note, he regrets not getting Jisung’s phone number.

“You let him get away.”

Growling in the back of his throat, he cuts his brother a sharp look. “Thank you for the running commentary, Jeongin. I don’t know what I would do without you narrating every detail of my life out loud.”

“Oh, that’s easy, hyung.” The smug grin on his brother’s face feels like payback for the time Minho convinced him to eat dirt when they were kids. “You would continue to live in painful denial of your screw ups.”

“Shut up.” Incapable of being truly angry with the man, his tone is far too gentle for the words he’d used.

“Whatever. I’ll be happily married one day, and you’ll still be thinking about all the pretty boys you were too scared to commit to. What was wrong with this one?” Stuffing a last bite of rice in his mouth, Jeongin chews, talking at the same time. “Sungie is not only rich, but handsome and funny. A combination you once said was harder to find than morals in a strip club.”

“Sungie?” Eyes narrowing, Minho hates the spike of jealousy he feels at hearing Jeongin use a nickname when referring to Jisung. “He’s older than you, have some respect.”

Dropping his spoon in the sink, Jeongin rolls his eyes. “He gave me permission to call him that, and no thanks to you, I doubt I’ll get another chance to be informal with him.”

“It’s for the best that he and I are only friends.” The line Minho has voiced multiple times over the past few months tastes bitter on his tongue, and he questions how many times he has to say it before his own heart will believe him.

Tossing Minho a sad look, Jeongin throws his backpack over his shoulder before stepping out the front door. “Lie to yourself if you want, but not to me, hyung.”

________

“Want me to kick his ass?” Invading Jisung’s personal space, Hyunjin leans over from the driver’s side, poking him in the ribs. “Because I’ll do it. I’ve seen all four Kung Fu Pandas. True strength is all about inner Chi and eating noodles. Want me to break his nose? Bust a lip?”

As annoying as his best friend is being right now, the attempt at cheering him up has a smile twitching on Jisung’s lips. “No Jinnie. Chi or no chi, Minho could snap you in half. That or his friends will.”

“That strong, huh?” Keeping his left hand on the steering wheel, Hyunjin reaches with his right, threading their fingers together. “I’m sorry, babe. I knew there had to be a reason you kept taking your car in for repairs, I just didn’t realize it was a guy.”

“Yeah, well, after today, I won’t be going back. I was breaking my car on purpose just to see him.”

“Wooooow.”

Eyes flicking to the right, Hyunjin’s judgy expression kills the final speck of pride that had survived being rejected the night before. Slumping lower in his seat, Jisung hides his face. “Don’t look at me like that. You pretended to be vegan for a month to get that foreign actor’s phone number.”

Sighing wistfully, Hyunjin smiles. “It would’ve worked too if I hadn’t turned twenty-five. Leo likes ‘em young. Don’t distract me, though. This is about you and your sexy mechanic. Breaking your car on purpose? That’s fucking sad…”

Appalled by his friend’s hypocrisy, Jisung glares at the blonde. “You once ordered fried chicken every night for three weeks in hopes of meeting that delivery guy again. Thanks to you, I can’t smell fried food without feeling nauseous.” Turning this around on Hyunjin is the best chance he has at coming out on top. There is no defense for his behavior these past six months.

He had been desperate. Desperate to be seen, desperate to have his feelings returned.

A longing that had finally been sated, only to be ripped away as quickly as it had been filled. He wishes to forget and yet prays that he always remembers the burn of Minho’s hands on him. The elder’s lips had pressed against his, and it had taken but a second to learn that in his fantasies, he’d sold himself short.

Nothing he’d dreamt of or imagined could compare to reality.

It’s as if Minho had been given a map to Jisung’s body and spent years memorizing it in preparation for last night. The surety in the man’s kisses and touch, proof that he could bring the younger to heaven and back. Finally together, his pursuit of the mechanic had not been in vain… his yearning repaid to him tenfold in the form of heavy breaths and passionate kisses.

In that moment, buzzed on whiskey and drunk on need, he’d thought this is it. His desire was returned; the stand-offish man had simply been playing hard to get, and finally Jisung had caught him. They would lose themselves in each other, and afterward, he’d confess everything. His feelings, the pitiful damage he’d done to his car out of desperation to see Minho again and again. 

There were times he’d felt ashamed of the lengths he was taking, and each time he’d left Minho’s shop without a new contact in his phone or a date, he’d sworn to never go back. Without fail, he returned. Each time Minho shot him down, hope would hover over his shoulder. His “rejections” were never real refusals. “I can’t this time…” “Sorry, I’ve already got plans…” “You’re welcome anytime…”

Jisung had held onto them like lifelines, letting his lovesick, hopeful heart insist, maybe this time he’ll finally say yes…

He no longer has any doubts or hope. ‘Our relationship is professional, you’re my customer. This was a mistake, I’m sorry.’ There is no name for the “zone” Minho has placed him in. The firm rejection tossed him from cloud nine, so he could tumble from the sky to land in neutral territory. Dislike would be better than apathy. He is neither a friend nor a lover. He is… an acquaintance at best. 

Hyunjin turns right, and dread settles where anticipation had once lived, growing heavier the closer they get to Drive Automotive. He hopes they can be quick about it. If he’s lucky, he can pay for the repairs and be out of the parking lot before Minho is even aware he’d stopped by.

Sensing his depressed state, Hyunjin talks to fill the sad silence. “That chicken was ordered in the name of true love. That man was made for me. I’m convinced we were together in a past life. The one where I was a God, and he the high priest who worshipped at my altar.”

“Uh huh. Is that what the psychic told you?” Jisung’s teasing is motivated by the need to deflect his thoughts away from what will never be.

Not appreciating his sarcasm, Hyunjin gives him a dirty look. “You know it was, and she was a Shaman, not a psychic.”

“Oh, because that makes it more reliable.”

“Enough about me and my disappearing soulmate. I’m being serious now… Would you like me to go inside for you? I can pay and bring the keys out so you don’t have to see him.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Jisung wishes he could accept the offer. Unfortunately… “No, I have to go in. I think the damage was worse than Hyung originally suspected. Lix said he needs to review a few things on the car.” The bank near Drive Automotive comes into view, and instead of the happy nerves he used to feel upon seeing it, all he experiences now is grief.

**

“Sungie!” Doorbell chiming at their entrance, Felix welcomes them, his normally cheery voice now burdened with concern. Hovering by Jisung’s elbow, Hyunjin glares around the small space as if Minho were lying in wait for a second chance to humiliate his friend.

“Hey, Lix.” Jamming his sunglasses up his forehead to sit in his hair, Jisung gives the clerk a smile, praying it appears genuine. “Sorry for coming so close to closing time. Class ran late.” Pointing behind him, he sticks to being polite. “This is my best friend, Hyunjin.”

Coming out from behind the counter, Felix pulls him into a tight hug. “I was worried when I came in this morning and saw your car. Minho explained what happened, and I’m sorry you had to go through that. First, the wreck, and then getting mugged. You must be exhausted. There’s no need to apologize for being late, and hello, Hyunjin-ssi, it’s nice to meet you.”

The news that Minho has already explained everything has his heart skipping, anxiety flooding his mind to whisper self-deprecating names. Pathetic, naive, stupid… 

Briefly hugging tighter, Felix releases him, taking a step back to hold his gaze with a hopeful expression. “I’m glad hyung found you. He doesn’t typically go to the gym on Thursdays. It was fate that he passed by. He’s saved you twice now, and I’m convinced you two are meant to be.”

The direction Felix is going in is obvious, and he wishes the man would stop. It’s clear to him now that Minho had left out certain details of their night when sharing the story. Details he too would like to keep a secret. The Aussie has been an enthusiastic supporter of his one-sided crush. If he learns of the rejection, Felix is liable to be just as disappointed too. Jisung’s already decimated pride can only take so much.

Patting him on the back, he steps away, hoping to hurry this along. “Lixie, please. I hate to be rude, but I have a headache and just want to pick up my car.” And never come back.

“Oh no! I’m sorry. You’ve been through a lot, and of course, you want to go home.” Frowning, Felix shuffles through the paperwork on the front desk. “Just let me call Minho and have him come in. He’ll explain everything, as unfortunately, we don’t have good news.”

Fuck! Choking back the curse, he hangs his head. At this point, life is just cruel. An arm slips around his waist, Hyunjin’s supportive hand landing on his hip. The touch is meant to be comforting, but it does little to cool the mortified blush rising to his cheeks. He wants to crawl inside his hoodie and hide like a turtle.

“No need to call me, Lix.” Joining them from the back office, Minho’s attention lands first on Hyunjin. His steely gaze then traveling to the hand resting on Jisung’s hip before jumping to his face. “Hello.”

“Hi…” Pulling his sleeves over his hands, he allows a brief glance at the handsome mechanic. As usual, he looks stupidly perfect in a black t-shirt with the shop’s logo and stained work pants. A headband keeps purple hair pushed off his face, revealing his forehead, and Jisung instantly regrets coming to the shop. Before leaving to pick up his car, he’d considered changing into a revenge outfit. Something sexy and tight… instead, he’d gone with a hoodie and baggie jeans. Today, his outsides match his insides… a mess. Minho surely would have seen through the act anyway.

Face expressionless and controlled, Minho approaches the counter, and Hyunjin’s grip on his waist turns crushing. “Jesus Christ, Sungie…” Hissed in his ear, the whispered words are heavy with awe, and it’s clear Hyunjin gets it now. His friend finally understands why Jisung had been willing to damage a brand-new car for a few hours of this man’s presence.

Minho is beyond good-looking. The elder’s face is the type that should grace the covers of fashion magazines with its hard angles. His natural dark smoldering stare so intense that it has people desperate to be its focal point. Worse is that Jisung knows the man’s beauty is not simply skin deep. Minho’s kind and giving heart is just as alluring as his face.

Next to the mechanic, Felix’s lips purse in worry. The blonde is no doubt confused by the awkward air around them.

“Han.”

“Minho-ssi.”

It hurts to be so formal, but Jisung’s position has been made clear. Customer.

Sliding over the stack of papers, Minho gives Hyunjin a quizzical glance before focusing on the work in front of him. For his part, Hyunjin glares at the elder, giving Jisung a supportive pat on his hip before looking around the shop’s office.

“As Lix said, the news isn’t good. The impact to the curb cracked the upper control arm on the right front and damaged the wheel bearing.”

Leaning forward, Jisung scans the page Minho is reading, his attention pulled to the man’s fingers as they follow the notes printed on the page. He knows what those hands feel like now. He knows that though small, his ass fits perfectly in the palms. Peeking up, he watches pink lips form words, and he knows how incredibly soft the elder’s lips are. What they feel like pressed against his, or when they’re dragged down his neck. Being close to the man again is as torturous as he’d thought it would be. He likes him so much.

“… it’ll take at least a week, maybe two, to get the parts in, and then a couple of days to complete the repair. The parts are factory-made and coming from Italy, so it will be expensive.”

Shit… he forgot to listen. Nodding, he is quick to agree with whatever work has been suggested. “That’s fine. Cost isn’t a big deal, and I have a second car, so take as long as you need. Lix can just call me when it’s done.”

Jaw flexing, Minho’s right eye twitches. “Oka-“

Cutting him off, a sharp gasp tears from Hyunjin. Jisung turns, startled, and follows his friend’s stare to the wide shop windows. Beyond the glass, a car hangs suspended on the lift while someone works beneath it. Broad shoulders, solid arms… the unmistakable build of Changbin. The man’s face is hidden behind a welder’s helmet, sparks flaring around him as he welds.

“It’s him!”

Hearing this, both Felix and Minho turn in search of who Hyunjin is referring to. Leaving Jisung’s side, he moves to press against the shop window. His nose and forehead smushed against the glass. “I’d know those muscles anywhere! Sungie!! It’s my delivery boy!”

“What?!” Both he and Minho whip their attention back to the shop just as Changbin finishes up, setting his tool aside before reaching up to strip off his helmet.

“I knew it!” Cheering, Hyunjin presses hard enough on the window that Jisung is fearful his friend will fuse with it. “He’s so sexy…”

“Huh… Changbin? Really?” Felix asks. 

Hyunjin’s head snaps to them. “Is that his name? Changbin?” Smile splitting his face, he returns to looking outside. “He is perfect…”

“They know each other?” Minho’s stunned question is directed at Jisung, but he hesitates, unsure how to answer.

“Sorta.” Avoiding the man’s eyes, he stares instead at his nose. The small freckle on the tip is one he’s often fantasized about kissing. “They met once.”

“Once?! HA! We’ve known each other in a hundred lifetimes! Ah, Sungie! He’s coming this way!” Panicking, Hyunjin uses a display of chrome exhaust tips to check his teeth and hair. “Fuck! I should’ve worn the Versace polo today! Why didn’t you tell me he was here!?”

“Me?! How the hell was I suppos-”

Focused on his task, Changbin opens the office door, face down with a pen cap in his teeth as he scribbles on a clipboard. “Min. I finished the install on the catalytic converter, but I think the O2 sensor is bad.”

“Bin…”

“What?” Looking up, Changbin sees the three of them watching and smiles. “Jisung! Hi, you here about the car?”

Excitement poorly concealed, Felix points over Changbin’s shoulder. “Look behind you.”

Confused, the man turns, the clipboard in his hand clattering to the ground the moment his eyes land on Hyunjin.

“I found you!” Pouncing, Hyunjin leaps into the man’s arms, smashing their mouths together briefly before tearing them apart. “My priest! Be my boyfriend?”

Stunned beyond words, Changbin holds Hyunjin up by his ass, staring in dismay. “I-it’s you!”

Laughing, Felix turns to Jisung for an explanation. “Priest?”

“Don’t ask…” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jisung sighs, his spine snapping straight when Minho’s voice comes next.

“Boyfriend?”

Changbin’s loud shout saves him from having to answer. “Yes!” Setting Hyunjin down, he wraps the taller man in a hug, crushing their lips together. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Laughter bubbly and euphoric, Hyunjin practically squeals in happiness, peppering kisses along the muscled man’s jaw. “I thought I’d never see you again. I ordered chicken every day for three weeks, hoping you would be the one to bring it!”

“I got fired.”

“What?! Why?!” Leaning back, Hyunjin takes the mechanic’s face in his hands.

Smiling like a lunatic, Changbin’s pale face turns red. “The night we met, I had another order to deliver after yours, but… well… you know. We took so long, I forgot about it, and the customer complained.”

“Baby, it’s all my fault! Do you want me to buy the chicken place? I can fire the manager.”

“W-what? You w-would do that for m-me?” Stuttering, Changbin looks seconds away from having a stroke.

“Of course!” Perfectly serious, Hyunjin takes the man’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “In one of our past lives, we ran a business together and had sex in the office.”

“Past lives?” The mechanic’s eyes grow huge.

Nodding, he brings Changbin’s hands to his lips, kissing the back of his knuckles. “I was so desperate to find you, I went to a Shaman, and she said we’ve had past lives together. She also said you’re obsessed with my lips.”

“That Shaman is a genius. I’ve been dreaming of these lips.” Pressing upward on his toes, Changbin brings their mouths together again.

Giggling, Hyunjin nuzzles their noses together, causing Jisung to throw up a tiny bit in the back of his throat. “Then I’ll send her a thank-you card and definitely invite her to our engagement party.”

Jaw-dropping, Minho’s face snaps to Jisung right as Changbin nods. “That’s a good idea. We don’t want to offend someone that powerful. Should we get her a gift too?”

Slapping a palm to his forehead, Minho butts-in, leveling a hard look at his friend. “Alright enough! Bin, I take it this is that guy you told us about.”

“He is! Hyung! This is…” Blinking, Changbin falls silent. “Um…. What’s your name?”

“Hwang Hyunjin.” Laughing, Jinnie buries his face in the side of the man’s neck.

“Minho-hyung, this is my new boyfriend Hyunjin! Now don’t be jealous, but Chan is going to be my best man.”

Sputtering comically, Minho’s head reels back as if he’d been struck. “You just learned his name!”

“Wait!” Shouting, Felix interrupts, squinting at Jisung. “Hwang? As in the talent company, Hwang Assets?”

“That’s us.” Answering calmly, Hyunjin turns to Minho. “By the way, Gucci has contracted my family’s company to find models for their next campaign. Can you strut? Are you available?”

“Jinnie!” Stomping his foot, Jisung sends his friend a look that screams What the fuck.

“Sungie! His face is perfect for them!” Over Hyunjin’s loud defense, Jisung notices Felix lean towards Minho…

“See how easy that was, Hyung? Someone asks you to be their boyfriend, and just like Binnie, you say yes.”

The clerk’s not so subtle whisper has sweat building under Jisung’s armpits. He’ll beat Hyunjin’s ass later, but for now, he needs to get out of here. Grabbing the repair estimate off the counter, he signs on the bottom line. “Thanks, Minho-ssi. I’ll wait until I hear from Felix to come back.” Racing to the door, he snags his friend’s arm. “Jinnie, we gotta go.”

“Wha-” Feet sliding across the floor, Hyunjin anchors himself to Changbin’s arm, thus becoming an immovable object. “Sungie I-” One look at Jisung’s pleading expression and Hyunjin’s shoulders droop. “Binnie, I need to go.” Cutting a sideways glare at Minho, the blonde sighs, causing the spectators in the shop to turn towards the purple-haired culprit.

“Wait.” Pulling out his cellphone, Changbin opens the screen. “Let me get your number. Are you free tonight?”

“I can’t…” Mimicking Jisung’s signature pout, Hyunjin’s bottom lip pokes out. “I’m sorry, but I promised Sungie ice cream and barbecued pork. Can we meet tomorrow?”

Changbin’s face falls, and guilt stabs Jisung in the chest. It’s his fault the two can’t meet tonight after searching for each other for so long. Hundreds of years, if you believe a shaman who charges way too much and smells like pachouli and ass.

“Tomorrow I’m coaching Minho at his fight.”

Brain screeching to a halt, Jisung questions his hearing. Fight… what?!

“Oh! You two should come!” Bouncing on his toes, Felix chirps from the other side of the counter, and Jisung is tempted to bang his head on the wall. “You can see Binnie in his element, and Minho too.”

“Lix, I don’t think-”

“We’ll be there!” Interrupting him, Hyunjin answers for both of them. “I would love the chance to see my man in action.”

And now Jisung is trying to remember if they cross a bridge when driving back to Gangnam so he can grab the wheel and end it all.

“Aww, you can cheer for me, babe. I’ll text you the address, but uh…” Eyes flicking towards the front door, Changbin studies Hyunjin’s gleaming pearl white Audi. “Do you have a less flashy car? Something that won’t stand out?”

“No, but our friend Seungmin does. I’ll get him to drive, that way we can all support you.”

The weight of Minho’s eyes settles on Jisung’s face, so he studies the faded tile floor. What was supposed to be a quick in and out has turned into his own personal version of hell. Stomach rolling from the sound of wet kisses coming from the new couple, he’s tempted to bolt out the door and steal his friend’s car.

“Call me later, Binnie. I’ll need advice on what to wear.”

Disgustingly cheesy air-kisses flying over his shoulder, Jisung hurries Hyunjin out the front door. Stuffing his friend into the driver’s seat, he waits until the doors are locked and they have privacy before unloading. He’d prefer not to ruin Jinnie’s excitement over meeting his long-lost delivery husband, but… “What the hell was that?!”

“What was what?” Blinking wide innocent eyes at him, Hyunjin pulls into traffic.

“You are a traitor! That’s what! The plan was to get my car and never see him again, but now we have plans for tomorrow?!”

Wincing, Hyunjin has the good sense to look moderately ashamed. “Sungie, I’m sorry, but at least I kept our plans for tonight. Which, let me say, is a huge sacrifice given I’ve been reunited with Changbin again. His dick is so thick it needs a girth certificate! I could be sitting on that tonight.”

“Great!” Rolling his eyes, Jisung crosses his arms defensively. “Now Minho can see me the day after I get drunk, eat a gallon of ice cream, and my face is swollen from a pound of pork.”

“Oh, he won’t be paying attention to you, it’ll be fine.”

“What?!” Sitting upright, Jisung isn’t sure if he should be offended by the statement, cry, or both.

“No, no.” Reaching over, Hyunjin pats his leg. “What I meant was he’ll be too busy with his sword to notice your face.”

“His… huh? What are you talking about?”

Tapping his chin, Hyunjin mutters, thinking aloud. “Or maybe the correct term is sabre?”

“Jinnie… What type of fight do you think we’re going to tomorrow?”

Chuckling as if Jisung’s question were ridiculous, Hyunjin clicks on the radio. “A sword fight, duh. It’s a fencing match… right?”

________

“HIT HIM HARDER!!!”

Protectively cupping his ear, Jisung winces at Seungmin’s uncharacteristically loud shout.

“Jab! Jab with your left!”

Hyunjin’s yell joins Seungmin's, and he is starting to wonder if they hadn’t fallen into a black hole and are now living an alternate reality. If the three get together on a Saturday night, the usual routine is drinks, dancing, and at least one of them going home with a stranger. Tonight, however, they’re clumped together on foldable stands in a random warehouse, watching underground (ie, unregulated and illegal) bare-knuckle boxing.

In the fight ring, a man wearing red lands a vicious punch that has his opponent’s legs wobbling.

“GO FOR THE KNOCKOUT!” On Seungmin’s left, Jeongin roars, cheering the fighter on. 

What the hell is happening to his life right now? Convincing Seungmin (his most reserved friend) to drive into Guryong at night had turned into a two-hour begging session that’d seen Hyunjin falling to his knees, promising their friend anything he wanted. A promise made irrelevant within minutes of their arrival when Seungmin had laid eyes on Jeongin and declared meeting the man payment enough.

Now the two stand next to each other, sharing a beer. His friend potentially hooking up with the brother of the person who’d rejected Jisung just days earlier feels rather unjust.

In front of them, Felix and Chan hold hands while jumping up and down, and disappointment burns low in his gut. Felix’s sad expression the moment Jisung arrived left no doubt: the couple knew exactly what had gone down on Minho’s couch. More than likely, it was Jeongin, as the man had been whispering something to the two right when he’d walked up. Embarrassed, Jisung would’ve left right then, were it not for the fact that Seungmin is his ride for the night and taxis don’t come here after dark.

“Would you like another drink?” The question comes from his left, and eyeing the half-filled plastic cup in his hand, Jisung shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

“So polite…” An arm fails around his waist, and grimacing, he dismisses the base instinct to pull away. The new acquaintance, Gyumin, had approached Jisung shortly after they’d arrived at the warehouse and had made it a point to stick close. He should be flattered. The attention is exactly what he’d been hoping for when he’d opted to wear an outfit that turns heads. The cut off t-shirt he’s dressed in puts his toned arms on display, and his tight tight black jeans hug his ass and legs.

He’d been ill-prepared to see Minho yesterday, but tonight is a different story. The simple look is understated enough to not give away his white-collar status, but still sexy enough that more than one person had been watching him until Gyumin had made his approach. Although Jisung would prefer it to be a certain sweet and sour mechanic stuck to his side, Gyumin is nice to look at. Substantially taller than Minho, his masculine features and rugged charm make him a standout in the crowd. It feels good to be wanted, even if he has zero plans of going back to the guy’s place. Once the night is over, he is intent on returning home to soak in a bubble bath while eating an unhealthy amount of processed snacks.

Looking over his shoulder, Felix frowns at seeing the arm wrapped around his waist, but he ignores the look. Jisung has some pride after all, and he’s not about to spend the rest of his life moping around because of Minho’s rejection. 

“Yes! Get him!” Gyumin cheers right as the fighter in red knocks the other one to the ground. 

Screams burst from the crowd, rattling the warehouse’s concrete walls, and he prays Minho’s fight is next. There are two main events tonight, with the mechanic’s fight being the first of them. After it, he hopes he’ll be able to convince Seungmin to leave. If nothing else, coming to the match has answered one lingering question. Minho fights as Lee Know, and now Jisung finally understands why the two men who’d mugged him had looked so terrified. Apparently, Minho (Lee Know) is kind of a big deal.

The fighter on the ground stays down, and the metal ring of a bell has the crowd going wild.

Hyunjin bumps his arm, and Jisung forces a smile on his face. “That was awesome!!”

“You called boxing barbaric just yesterday.” He shouts over the sound of boos and jeers.

“Well, that was before I’d seen it. Plus, knowing my boyfriend loves it and coaches the sport means I have to support him.” Chugging the rest of his beer, Hyunjin nods toward the makeshift bar across the large room. “I’m going to get another before the next match. Binnie just texted and said they’re about to go on. Want one?”

Yet again declining an offer for a refill, he separates from Gyumin’s arm, sliding over to take Hyunjin’s empty spot and have some breathing room. 

“Sungie!” Eyes shining, Jeongin moves to his side, occupying Seungmin’s space in the stands as his other friend also heads towards the bar. “Are you having fun?”

Smiling, Jisung leans against the man. He wouldn’t exactly call his current mood “fun” but he doesn’t want to kill the younger’s buzz. “I am. I wasn’t sure what to expect when Changbin invited us, but this is cool.”

“It is! Changbin has been working with Hyung for a while now, he’s really good too!”

“Oh yeah? Has uh… has Minho been doing this for a long time?” The wise thing would be to pretend he has no interest in learning about the man’s brother. Unfortunately, the opportunity to feed his curiosity is too good to pass up. Being rejected doesn’t erase his attraction to Minho, but it does, however, shrink his self-confidence to the size of a pea.

“Hyung has been into boxing since we were young, but only started fighting for money when I enrolled in university. My scholarship covered tuition, but I needed books, a laptop, and new clothes. I offered to get a part-time job, but he said no. He wants me to focus on my studies, so he started doing this.”

“That’s… nice of him.” Goddamnit. Just once, he wants to learn something about the man that doesn’t increase his appeal. Jisung is a sucker for outwardly cold but secretly soft men. Daddy issues? Absolutely.

“He’s a good hyung. The best, actually. He spent years working to support me and our mother while she was sick.” Biting his lower lip, Jeongin looks around before stepping closer, bringing his mouth to Jisung’s ear. “I’m glad you came tonight. Don’t let him scare you away, Sungie. Min has always focused on caring for others over himself. He ignores what he wants. I- I think you should try again. Don’t let him push you away.”

Stepping back, Jeongin offers a shy look, and Jisung’s mind races to process what’s been shared with him. ‘He ignores what he wants.’ Is he implying that Minho actually wants Jisung…

“I should also thank you for bringing your friend.” Fanning his face, Jeongin’s eyes search out Seungmin as the man makes his way back with a refill. “Does he go to school with you?”

Promising to analyze the previous conversation at another time, Jisung focuses on the flush creeping up the younger’s neck. “Seungmin is actually in his last year of law school. He is top of his class and has a standing offer with one of Seoul’s best law firms.”

“Really?” Insecurity flashes across Jeongin’s features, and he decides to return the favor just given to him.

“You should ask for his number. When we got here, he saw you and said you’re gorgeous. Seung is the serious type; he doesn’t play around… very loyal.” The man in question is getting closer, so for good measure, he adds… “Plus, I’ve heard that when he cuts loose, the stroke game is top tier.”

“Oh my God!” Cackling, Jeongin smacks his arm, biting back a smile. “That’s very good to know.”

“Jisung… what are you saying?” Suspicion dripping from his tone, Seungmin looks between him and Jeongin’s blushing face.

“Nothing. Just giving Innie tips on puppy training.” Shuffling back to his seat, he internally pats himself on the back as Jeongin returns to leaning against Seungmin’s side. They’re cute together.

“Ready for the next fight?” Elbows knocking into each other, Gyumin leaves little room between them, but after the conversation he’s just had, Jisung is less inclined to be overly friendly. ‘Don’t let him push you away.’ Should Jeongin’s words give him hope, or do they only feed the delusion that had kept him returning to Drive Automotive time and time again? 

Inching to his right, he keeps what distance he can in the crowded space. “I was just told Lee Know’s fight is next.”

Rubbing his hands together, Gyumin smirks. “I have a hundred thousand won on him losing.”

Declaration killing his dwindling interest, Jisung’s smile vanishes. “You bet against Lee Know? Isn’t he the crowd favorite?”

“It’s usually a mistake to bet against him, but a friend of mine goes to his gym and said he looked off during warm-up this morning.”

“Ah…” Sipping what has now become a room temperature beer, Jisung wonders what’d thrown the man off his game.

A flurry of movement comes from beside the fighting ring, and stepping into the center, the MC for the night brings a microphone to his mouth. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! It is now time for the first of our two main events.”

“Let’s go Lee Know!!” Jeongin shouts.

“For the lightweight round and visiting from Busan, we have Sung Jin-woo weighing in at seventy kilograms!”

Entering first, the visiting fighter steps into the ring, his muscular chest and strong arms on display. Welcoming him, a chorus filled with more boos than cheers comes from the crowd.

“Facing him tonight is a fan favorite, your local Lee Know, weighing in at sixty-six kilograms!”

The volume inside the warehouse reaches an earsplitting level, and Jisung questions how the police haven’t received a noise complaint… until he spots two cops in the corner exchanging cash as they look from Jin-woo to Minho. Even law enforcement is betting on this?

Approaching the ring, Changbin lifts the ropes, allowing Minho to step between them, and Jisung cannot help but curse out loud. “Oh fuck…”

If this were a legal fight, the men would be wearing robes, gloves, and walk out to a signature fight song with a team of managers at their backs. Instead, Minho steps into the ring in plain tennis shoes, loose black gym shorts, and nothing but thin wrappings around his wrists. In his mind, Jisung imagines screaming rock and roll music pouring from the loudspeakers.

Minho is the picture image of a bad boy wet dream. The type you run away with to be exposed to a life you’ve never dreamed of. The one you can’t take home to daddy, but you spend your nights in bed touching yourself to the thought of. The kind of man who, with one kiss, makes you question everything you’ve ever known. The one you’d risk it all for.

Much like two nights ago, the sight of Minho’s exposed skin has fire scorching his veins. The black lines of ink he’d spent months fantasizing about no longer a fuzzy picture in his mind. Before the other night, he’d never considered tattoos a true form of art...That was until he’d seen the elder’s. Carved into Minho’s chest and wrapping over both shoulders, the flesh looks ripped open. The muscles underneath replaced with intricate drawings of mechanical parts, and where his heart should be, an engine tears through the pectoral. Minho is a living Ferrari.

A bell rings, and blinking, he looks around, realizing he’d missed the rest of the announcer’s directions. His mind was too focused on the burning want inside of him to listen. Hands up, both fighters move forward, and he knows he shouldn’t be worried, but still, there’s a knot in his throat.

The fighter from Busan swings first, a fast jab with his right, followed by a hard left hook. Dodging the hit, Minho blocks the second and, dropping low, lands a brutal punch to the visitor’s ribs. Chest to chest, they lock together in a clinch, the opponent dealing a kidney shot to the back side of Minho’s ribs that should be illegal. Loud boos erupt from the crowd as the referee dives in to separate them. But the moment they’re pulled apart, the Busan fighter snaps a punch over the ref’s shoulder, clipping Minho’s ear and sending the spectators into a frenzy.

“What the fuck ref?!” Screaming at the top of his lungs, Jisung crushes the cup of beer in his hand. “That’s bullshit!”

Beside him, Gyumin laughs. “Is this your first bare-knuckle fight?”

“Huh? Yeah…”

Leaning down, Gyumin shouts to be heard over the angry boos coming from the stands. “It’s different from regular boxing. The rules are more like guidelines. Punching while in a clinch is allowed, so technically, only the late hit was a foul, but even then, the fighters aren’t penalized much for it.”

“What else is different?” He asks, watching as Minho raises his fists, returning to a fighting stance.

“Because the risk for injury is higher, the time the fighters are together is shorter. Rounds are only two minutes long, and instead of twelve, there are five.” Pausing, Gyumin stops talking when the visiting fighter swings and misses. “Lee Know is definitely off tonight. Normally, his opponent wouldn’t get the chance to land a late punch.”

“Come on, Hyung!” Jeongin yells right as Minho presses forward, throwing a flurry of hits. Mean jabs aimed at the opponent's face force him backward, but he protects himself with his forearms. Left arm coiled, Jisung knows Minho is about to throw a vicious upper cut when the bell rings, the referee jumping between the two.

“Fucking hell!” Ahead of him in the stands, Felix flings his hands up in frustration while Minho heads back to his corner, where Changbin is already waiting with a water bottle and towel.

“This is crazy!” Hyunjin’s hand clamps down on Jisung’s right arm. “He’s good, right?”

“Hyung is better than he’s shown so far.” On Hyunjin’s right, Jeongin leans forward enough that Jisung can hear. “I don’t know what’s up with him tonight. He looks shaky.”

Anxiety burrows into his chest, and it takes the sting of pain for Jisung to realize he’s been chewing on his fingernails. Jeongin is the second person to say Minho looks off his game… why?

Movement in the ring draws his gaze just in time to see Changbin take back the water bottle, his lips moving rapidly as he fires off last-minute instructions. Rising to his feet, Minho bounces lightly in place to keep his muscles warm, his eyes never leaving the fighter across from him.

*Ding ding*

The bell rings out, and around him the crowd swells as both fighters jump right back into the fray. Recharged from the short break, the visiting fighter is direct as he throws a series of jabs and cross-body hits that Minho narrowly blocks.

“He looks stiff. Distracted…” Gyumin whispers into his ear.

As he says this, Minho jumps forward, aiming a shovel hook at his opponent's ribs. The hit is blocked, leaving him open for a split-second. Capitalizing, the other fighter lashes out, landing a vicious jab that has Minho’s head snapping back.

“FUCK!” Felix’s deep voice booms out. “What the hell, Min? Block him!”

Shaken by the hard hit, Minho stumbles backward. Seizing the microsecond needed to recover, his opponent charges, raining blow upon blow on the fighter’s ribs. Curling forward, Minho tucks in close to protect himself, but the damage is done. He is clearly struggling to breathe through the hits and is a half-second behind on each block.

A hook crashes into the side of Minho’s face, his legs give out, and he hits the mat, forcing the referee to step between them. In the stands, the excited faces of the local crowd switch to concerned. Whispers and curses fly around the room, and Jisung’s stomach turns.

Pushing himself upright, Minho is back on his feet just as the bell rings. Changbin is already climbing into the ring, towel in hand, dabbing at the cuts along Minho’s cheek and left eye as he guides him toward the corner.

“This is bad…” Chan’s voice is barely audible over the noise in the warehouse, but Jisung can just make it out.

“Do you know him?” Gyumin asks.

“Huh?” Looking up at the tall man, he isn’t sure who he is referring to. Resisting the instinct to look towards the ring, he asks the obvious question. “Chan?”

“No. Lee Know.”

A blush builds on his cheeks. “Why do you ask?”

Eyebrow quirking, Gyumin tilts his head towards the ring. “'Cause he’s watching you instead of the other fighter…”

Unbidden, Jisung turns, his eyes flying to the ring in time to lock with a cold, steely gaze pointed at him. For a brief second, Minho’s cool eyes flick to Gyumin before returning to Jisung. It makes no sense that the elder is watching him instead of the man he’s supposed to be fighting, but the attention sends lightning buzzing up his spine. Narrowing his eyes, he points to the Busan fighter, Minho’s gaze following along as Jisung then drags a finger across his throat.

Cold eyes expand before turning into slits as he silently mouths the command… Knock him out.

Even with Changbin murmuring instructions at his ear, Minho’s eyes remain locked on Jisung. The bell cuts through the noise, signaling the end of the break, and he rises to his feet, offering a small, tight nod. Just enough to make Jisung’s chest tighten before turning to face his opponent.

Refusing to look away from the ring, he answers Gyumin’s question. “I’m a customer at his shop. He’s my mechanic…”

The fight resumes, and Gyumin’s response is lost to the screams of the audience. Walking forward, Minho rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck. Bringing his right hand up to shield his face, Minho holds his left at his waist. His form completely different from what it’d been in the first two rounds.

“Oh hell yes! He’s back!” Felix cheers.

Reacting to the change, the energy from the crowd swells, and Gyumin frowns as Minho stays out of reach of the other fighter. His movements far more loose and fluid as his feet shuffle, keeping him outside of his opponent’s range.

“This is it,” Jeongin shouts right as Minho steps forward, swinging with his left. Nearly faster than Jisung can track, the man’s fist makes contact with a jaw, and the visiting fighter’s back hits the mat.

“Whoa, one hit did that?!” Awe is heavy in Hyunjin’s voice, and they watch as the rival fighter struggles to get back up.

Cold eyes again meet Jisung’s, and warmth flows to his fingers. Having Minho’s attention, he silently mouths the words finish him.

Returning to his legs, the wobbly fighter waves away the ref, putting his hands up. Turning back to the fight, Minho again shifts to a loose stance right as the fighter from Busan charges forward, throwing a hook with the potential for serious damage. Dodging the blow, Minho rotates on the balls of his feet and twists, lashes out to land a lightning-fast jab to the man’s temple.

A body hits the ground, and the crowd leaps to their feet, shaking the stands. Eyes closed and out cold, the fighter from Busan lies on the floor. Grabbing Minho’s hand, the referee lifts it in the air, declaring the fight over, a win by total knockout.

“YES!!” Hyunjin screams, Jeongin wraps his arms around Seungmin, and they all jump in place. In front of them, Chan lifts Felix in the air, and they both yell at the top of their lungs, chanting “Lee Know”.

Frozen Jisung waits. His sole focus is the man in the ring, but the icy gaze he is waiting for never meets his own…

________

Resting his weight on the door leading from their make-shift locker room, Minho watches as the crowd scatters around the warehouse. He’d missed the second main event cleaning up after his fight, but he doesn’t care.

“You had me worried, Min.” Changbin’s meaty hand lands on his shoulder, jostling him back and forth. “Jin-woo is what? Only the second person to have forced you to your knees?”

“Fuck off, Bin. It doesn’t matter; I won.”

Taking his hand back, Changbin’s smile is warm as he nudges Minho’s elbow with his own. “Fair enough. A win is a win, but you haven’t looked that green in years.”

The comment stabs at his pride, and the cut above his left eye stings. He is tempted to snap back in response, but instead stays quiet. Changbin isn’t wrong. Gaze scanning the mass of people, he searches for the cause of his poor performance tonight. Jisung. Felix's inviting him had sent Minho into a mental tailspin.

As he’d been the one to reject the younger’s advances, he was not expecting to be affected by Jisung’s arrival at the shop yesterday. However, listening from the back office his heart rate had skyrocketed at the sound of the man’s voice. Walking out to review the status of the Maserati, he’d been surprised by his state.

In the six months Jisung has been bringing his car to the shop, not once has Minho seen him look anything other than perfect. His hair artistically styled, his designer clothes flattering, and the latest trend. However, standing in his office yesterday was not the polished persona he was expecting, but a tired-looking college student dressed in sweats without a hint of hairspray or makeup. His first thought was to blame the hangover Jisung no doubt had after drinking the last of his whiskey, but after a solid five minutes of the man avoiding eye contact, that conclusion had been smashed.

As unexpected as Jisung wearing plain clothes was… the remorse and disappointment Minho had felt was an even bigger surprise. Being called “Minho-ssi” had stung. Gone was the annoyingly charming smile he’d grown accustomed to, and in its place was an awkward grimace that he did not like at all. There were no thinly veiled double entendres or winks sent his way. Along with missing the vibrant version of Jisung he’s come to know, he refused to acknowledge the sting of jealousy that had run through him at the sight of Hyunjin’s arm holding the man protectively.

The frustration Minho used to feel upon seeing his unwanted admirer has now been redirected towards himself. It was his idea to draw the line between customer and friend. Mistakenly, he’d thought his misguided attraction towards the man would go away if Jisung’s pursuit of him were to end. The attraction, however, is still there, and now is mingling with emotions he’d rather not address. Feelings that had affected both his warm-up and performance tonight.

His ability to focus on fighting was decimated by thoughts of Jisung swirling around his mind like water in a drain. It’s hard to concentrate when every punch brings with it thoughts of… what will he think? What if he doesn’t come, or even worse, doesn’t cheer for me?

Insane fears running rampant, Minho had performed so poorly in warm-up that Changbin had threatened to climb in the ring and punch a fist up his ass. A threat that’d been echoed during the break between the first and second rounds of the fight tonight. Against his better judgment, before the match, he’d snuck a quick peek into the crowd only to see Jisung (back to looking like a million dollar snack) with the hands of a stranger grabbing at his (sinful) waist. If Minho hadn’t already been struggling to concentrate, this was the straw that broke him.

In optimum form, he should have controlled the fight from the first bell. Instead, he’d stepped into the ring with half his mind in the fight, and the other half trying to wrangle his ping ponging emotions back under control. The man clinging to Jisung was someone he recognized. ‘Though his name is lost to the black hole of Minho’s memory, the face he knows. The man is a local. 

A fact that has hurt growing behind his ribs… He was right all along. Jisung had only been after him for fun, proven by the quick jump to someone new. A rich kid looking for a taste of sin before returning to his ivory throne.

Unable to regulate his thoughts, Minho had been outmatched in the first two rounds, and he could see it… His first loss in years on the horizon. As if asking for more pain, he’d looked again to the crowd, and in that moment, he’d been revived. Changbin’s tips and threats whispered in his ear, fading into the background as doe-eyes filled with fire had locked with his. 

Knock him out.

If asked, he’ll say it was the punch to the face that’d brought him back to the present. Not pouty pink lips forming a command he had no choice but to follow.

Finish him.

A flash of bare arms in the crowd catches his attention, and Minho sucks in a breath. Found him. Jisung’s outfit blends in better than some of the clothes he’s worn to the shop, but the pretty man still stands out like a polished pebble mixed in a pit of gravel. He shines too bright for this place. The gray walls and stained floor are a poor backdrop for the soft curve of his cheeks and sheltered aura. What was Felix thinking by inviting him? A person of Jisung’s upbringing should be in a private box at a stadium. Not a worn-down abandoned building liable to have asbestos in the walls.

Head thrown back, the younger laughs at something Jeongin had said, and Minho’s hands ball into fists as an unknown arm is draped across the man’s shoulders. The person next to Jisung with the name he can’t recall is tall and good looking… asshole.

“Careful, Min…”

“What?” He snaps.

A knowing smirk he hates pulls Changbin’s mouth to the side. “It must be hard living in denial.”

“Bin, seriously fuck off.” Crossing his arms, Minho should move his eyes along, but he can’t. His brain is too busy imagining what question the guy could’ve asked that has Jisung nodding. 

Nudging him again, Changbin’s smart-ass expression turns downward. “You can’t justify being jealous when it was you who turned him down.”

“Would you shu-“

“No.” The serious look on his friend’s face halts the burning retort on his tongue. Chan is the smart one, Minho the serious one, and Changbin the funny, lovable goofball. It’s rare that he gets this intense, but when he does… they listen. “Hyung. I watched you close yourself off years ago. It was painful to see, but I know why you did it. That asshole broke your heart, you had a sick mother to care for, and you were the only stable male figure in Innie’s life.”

“But that was then. This freezing of feelings, depriving yourself… You no longer need to do that. The stress you had to cope with back then is gone.” Following his gaze, Changbin nods towards Jisung in the crowd. “You’re free to give yourself the best… to want the best for yourself.”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Minho decides the only thing worse than Changbin’s aegyo is when he gives sensible advice. “You’ve had a boyfriend for twenty-four hours, and now you think you’re a love guru.”

“Excuse you. I’ve had a soulmate for a hundred years. It’s not my fault it took so long to reconnect in this life.”

“Whatever.” Rolling his eyes, Minho ignores the insanity of his next words. He wants… has wanted for a while… “Well, Romeo, hypothetically speaking. How does one go talk to the guy he rejected just a few days ago? Jisung has already met someone else. He moved on awfully fast. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Moving on? Jisung? Pfft, please… letting some random buy you a drink is resourceful. Rich people stay rich by spending other people's money. Looks to me like Jisung is just being smart.” Stepping closer, Changbin wiggles his eyebrows, and Minho wishes he’d kept his mouth shut. “If you’re only looking to bump fuzzies, then do what that guy is doing. Go buy him a drink.”

Scanning the room, he spots the guy who'd been draped over Jisung at the bar. Minho studies him, wondering what Jisung even likes about him. Sure, the guy has a bit of height, but that’s about-

Minho squints, attention sharpening. The man passes cash to the bartender with his right hand, while his left keeps Jisung’s drink tilted at an odd angle. He shifts against the bar, just enough for Minho to see the palm covering the rim lift… right as his other hand drifts close.

If Minho had looked away for even a second, he would have missed it. A tiny white pill slipping into the cup.

“If you want more than a night, then I’d suggest you start by apologizing and-”

Blinded by rage, Minho pushes off the doorjamb, beelining it straight for the group of friends gathered near the empty ring. Shoving bodies out of his way, curses follow after him. He doesn’t hear a single one. All he sees is that piece of shit weaving back toward Jisung. Nearing his friends, Felix’s happy expression falls on him, fast switching to fear. The fury he feels most likely displayed on his face as the guy reaches Jisung seconds before Minho, handing over the beer.

“Here you go, they only had Kloud left.”

Elbowing the last person out of his way, he grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him down to connect his fist with the asshole’s jaw. Moving fast, he manages two more solid punches before multiple people are ripping them apart.

Releasing the shirt in his grasp, he sends the man falling to the ground while around them a crowd forms. A circle of hungry onlookers, whispering, aching for a fight.

“Minho, what the fuck!?” Jisung shouts, his wide eyes angry and filled with shock.

Jerking free of Chan’s grasp, Minho snatches the man’s cup of beer away. “Don’t drink that. I saw him spike it.” Tipping the cup, he dumps the foamy drink out on top of the dazed man. Getting to the bottom, the amber ale thickens, turning grainy and white as the last of the powdered drug spills out. Only a few more seconds, and it would have dissolved completely.

“What’s going on here?” Making his way to the front of the crowd, Minhyuk, the fight organizer, looks from Minho to the man he’d pummeled. Brawls other than sanctioned fights are forbidden in the warehouse. It’s a toss-up if Minhyuk will see this as disrespect.

Angling himself partially in front of Jisung, he jerks his chin towards the guy he’d punched. “Getting rid of the trash, hyung. This one just tried to drug my friend.”

Sharp eyes study him in a cold, calculating expression. “You know this how?”

“I watched him do it, and when I dumped the beer, there was still powder at the bottom.” Lifting his chin, he holds Minhyuk’s gaze, daring the organizer to call him a liar. Seconds pass in tense silence before the man’s attention moves from him to Jisung, standing by his side.

“Did you drink anything else he gave you?”

“N-no.” Stuttering, Jisung shakes his head. “He offered to get me a drink a couple of times, but this was the first I said yes.”

Eyes cutting to the ground, Minhyuk glares at the man cupping his bleeding nose. “Security will take it from here.”

“I didn’t do shit!” Yelling, the guy goes to stand, only to be flanked by the two cops kept on the books for protection.

“Sungjae, Hyunsik. Take him out back and Minho…” An icy gaze levels with his, and he knows the man is serious. “Next time, get one of us first. We have rules here for a reason. All right, folks, show's over.” Waving his hands, a few words from Minhyuk are all that’s needed for the audience to scatter. With his ruthless reputation, no one wants to risk catching his ire.

“Hyung, thank you, I-”

Warm fingers latch onto his elbow, and spinning around, Minho cuts Jisung off. His anger takes control of him as he grabs the man’s shoulders. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Speechless, Jisung blinks up at him, the skin around his eyes turning blotchy and pink. “Accepting a drink from a stranger?! Of all the stupid shit you’ve gotten yourself into, this is the worst.”

“Whoa, hyung…” Moving to his side, Jeongin reaches for his wrist, but Minho knocks the hand away.

“Seriously, Jisung! Do you just trust anyone who shows you attention!? You need to fucking grow up.”

“Min, that’s enough…” Stepping forward, Chan grabs at his arm, separating them.

Slipping out of Minho’s grasp, Jisung’s lips tremble, his eyes glossy as he turns away. Without a word, he pushes through the crowd toward the exit. Hyunjin is on his heels in an instant, shooting Minho a lethal glare before flipping him off and disappearing after his friend.

Prepared to follow them, he’s stopped by Changbin’s thick arm blocking him. “Way to be an asshole, hyung.” 

“Asshole? I saved him… for a second time! He needs to learn.” Brushing past his friend, he growls at having lost sight of Jisung in the crowd. “Damn it.”

Attitude on high and looking seconds from putting Minho in a chokehold, Jeongin moves to his side. “Really, hyung? Seungmin and I met for the first time tonight, and he bought me two drinks! Are you going to call me stupid, too? Tell me to grow up?”

Cornered by his friends, his adrenaline sputters out, quickly replaced by regret. “Fuck… that’s not how I meant it.” The sight of Jisung’s teary eyes flashes through his mind. 

“This is your brother?” The person called Seungmin steps forward, his sharp gaze scrutinizing, the expression on his face clearly unimpressed. “Not exactly the kind savior Sung-ah has described.”

Standing between them, Jeongin’s palm slaps against Minho’s chest, preventing him from smacking the sneer off the other’s face. “Hyung, it’s you who needs to grow up. I know what you meant to say, but Jisung doesn’t. You were scared, but instead of saying that you just belittled him. Go apologize before it’s too late.”

Goddamn it. When did this become his fault?!

Guilt scratching at the back of his mind, he nods, turning in the direction Jisung had run off. Just like the night he’d stopped the mugging, Minho’s temper had gotten the best of him. Confused by spiraling thoughts and the warring feelings inside of him, he had allowed fear to sharpen his tongue. He is angry Jisung has moved on so fast, but in the moment, he was scared of what’d almost happened. And then frightened because a part of Minho wants to try trusting Jisung. To… maybe, sorta, partially consider giving him a chance… but now any hope of that happening has been ruined. 

Pushing through the crowd, Changbin’s advice filters through his mind. ‘The stress you had to cope with is gone. You’re free to give yourself the best…’

Is Jisung the best or a ticking time bomb?

Reaching the exit, he panics at the throng of people filling the parking lot. How the hell is he going to find the man in this mess? Now would be the perfect time for Jisung to have driven some bougie ass sports car that sticks out like a sore thumb.

Weaving through the mass of bodies, he dismisses the congrats and cheers elicited by his presence. Social networking is more Changbin’s side of things. He does the hitting, while Changbin schmoozes the supporters. Ah! There! Cursing under his breath, he takes off at a jog. Even with Hyunjin trailing behind, Jisung has made it a respectable distance down the sidewalk and away from the crowd.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouts across the lot. “Han! Hey! You can’t walk around here at night!”

Hearing his voice, Jisung’s head snaps around, finding Minho and yelling back. “Eat a dick!”

Jog turning into a run, he passes Hyunjin to grab at the furious man’s arm. “I’m not kidding. It isn’t safe here.”

Jisung yanks himself free and shoves at Minho’s chest, his cheeks streaked with tears, his voice thick and unsteady. “Leave me alone! And while you’re at it, drop the fucking Spider Man routine and stop trying to rescue me.” Swinging back around, he makes it a step before Minho leaps forward, catching him in a bear hug from behind.

“Calm down, okay. I came to apologize.”

Wriggling, Jisung struggles to get away before slumping forward, accepting his fate. Despite being fit, in a battle of strength, there’s only one winner between them. “Minho, do us both a favor and just stop helping me.” Refusing to look over his shoulder, Jisung’s voice sounds choked.

“So you’d prefer I let you get drugged, and what? Assaulted? Quit being ridiculous.” Annoyed by the guilt stabbing him in the ribs, and the alluring perfume that sticks to the man’s skin, Minho relaxes his hold.

Freed, Jisung immediately turns to start poking him in the chest. “Stop being so damn wishy washy! I’m a customer, remember, that’s it. No need to chase after me or apologize. I get it. I’m a naive child who causes you nothing but trouble. Thanks for putting me in my place.”

Not liking anything that had just been said, Minho bats away the finger stabbing him to address the first statement. “I am not wishy washy.”

Eyes growing huge, Jisung burst into jaded laughter. “Not wishy wa-… You give me whiplash! Two days ago, you made it very clear where we stand, and yet tonight you’re beating the shit out of some douche on my behalf. Next time, and believe me, there will NOT be a next time. But if there is! You could simply take the drink away. No need to go all caveman! This is exactly why I’m so hung up on you.”

Hands on his hips, Jisung reminds Minho of the little dogs who bark incessantly, thinking they’re intimidating when they’re not. This is the first time he’s seen him angry… It’s cute.

“You give me all the reasons in the world to like you, yet decline when I ask you out on a date. It was you who said hooking up was a mistake, but now here you are coming to my defense, acting as if you give a damn.” Throwing his hands up, Jisung steps back, his chest heaving. “Hot and cold, sweet and sour, asshole and then hero. Yes, you are fucking wishy washy!”

Out of the entire angry speech, a few words stick out in Minho’s brain. “Like you” and “date”. Earning the caveman insult that’d just been hurled at him, he voices the first thought that comes to mind.

“You like me?” 

Dumbfounded, Jisung blinks a dozen times before turning to Hyunjin, who’d elected to keep his distance and watch from afar. “I am speaking actual words, right? Or did that punch to the head earlier cause damage? Yes, hyung, I like you! Only God knows why because you are infuriati-”

On autopilot, Minho reaches forward, dragging the man in and smashing their mouths together. Swallowing the rest of Jisung’s sentence, he holds tight until the ounce of resistance he gets melts away. Hands fly to his hair, pulling him close, and his own are quick to roam the younger’s waist and lower back. Goddamn, he tastes sweet.

Biting at a plush lower lip, it takes little coaxing to be given entrance, and licking past the other’s teeth, he sighs at the moan Jisung lets out. The needy sound shatters the dam he’s held around his attraction for months… no slow leak this time, just a full, overwhelming break.

Jisung likes him. Wants to go on dates. Wants to… wait…

Pulling off with a slick pop, he looks down at foggy, slow-blinking eyes. Jisung’s voice is breathy, light. “So goddamn wishy washy.”

“You want to go out with me?”

Looking away, Jisung’s cheeks turn red. “Hyung, I’ve asked you out for lunch multiple times, karaoke, and even bowling. What did you think I was doing?”

I figured you just wanted a quick fuck… Keeping this thought to himself, Minho opts for a portion of the truth. “I knew you were hitting on me, but I didn’t think you actually liked me. You don’t know me.”

Realizing he’s still wrapped in Minho’s arms, Jisung gives a dry cough, stepping back quickly. “You’re right. I don’t know you. That’s why people go on dates in the first place. You meet someone, feel a little spark, get coffee or dinner, and see if you make sense together. If they still like each other after that, and are compatible… maybe by date three is where things get spicy.” Large doe-eyes peer up, growing wider in shock. “Have you never been on a date before, hyung?”

More than a little defensive, Minho scoffs. He looks like a total fucking idiot. “Of course, I’ve been on dates. I just didn’t realize that’s what you wanted with me. Fine, let's go on a date then. We can get coffee, you already know my order.” In the back of his mind, alarm bells start ringing, but he ignores them. He doesn’t fully trust Jisung, but perhaps if they go out a few times, he can sniff out the guy’s real motive. Or better yet, get over the bubbly sensation in his chest that had started the instant he agreed to a date.

Jaw falling slack, Jisung goes silent before his face hardens. “No.”

“No?” Brain glitching, Minho pauses… “But… but you just-”

Eyebrows flying up, Jisung props a hand on his hip, cocking it to the side in a sassy move. “I will not go on a date with you, but you can go on a date with me! I asked you out months ago. It was my idea first!”

Aghast, Minho is starting to question if the punch from earlier hadn’t damaged something… like his hearing. “Are you… are you seriously arguing over whose idea it was?” And Jisung has the balls to call him fickle??

“Look. You can’t just swoop in to save the day, insult me, and then expect me to go on a date with you. Either you agree to go on a date with me, or I’m leaving.”

Running hands roughly through his hair, Minho growls in frustration. What the hell is happening?! “Fucking hell, okay! Fine, yes, it was your idea. I’ll go on a date with you. Jisung, may I go out with you?”

“Alright, alright…” Putting his hands up in mock surrender, Jisung smiles. “No need to beg me, hyung. Get my number from Felix and meet me tomorrow at two by Dangsan Station.” Looking past Minho, Jisung’s face brightens. “Jinnie. I think I see Seungmin waiting for us. We should go.”

Walking around him, Jisung winks before linking arms with Hyunjin. Frozen in place, Minho watches their return walk back to the warehouse towards the guy who’d been buying Jeongin drinks. Climbing into a sensible Hyundai sedan, the three drive off, but still, Minho’s legs refuse to budge.

“Hyung!” Panting, Jeongin, and Chan manage to break through the crowd, spotting him and then running over.

“Min… what happened?” Chan questions. “Did you apologize?”

The car he’d been watching disappears around a corner, and he shakes his head. “I- I don’t know, but I think I just got bamboozled into a date.”