The Kkangpae and the Lawyer
Title: The Kkangpae and the Lawyer [Twoshot]
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG-13
Genre: mafia!minho, drama, romance of sorts, unintentional slight fluff
Summary: Taemin's father has run up a debt, leaving Taemin with no choice but to work for the kkangpae. He meets Minho, who is the wingman of the Boss. But is it all as it seems it is?
Word Count: A whopping 9,353 words. I got really side tracked ok
A/N: Written for the prompt over at twominkink, and largely unedited or unbetaed in any way because honestfrank has disappeared somewhere .__. Anon, I'm sorry it's so late! It took me ages to restart this and a lot longer than I thought it would take me. I hope you like it, I kind of got off track ;~~;
And LJ isn't letting me put it under a cut whyyy
And I'll do another A/N at the end properly otl
The knocking on the door is becoming more and more insistent, and Taemin winces at the noise. It’s dark in the house, only a lamp lit in the corner to provide a dark glow. He doesn’t know what to do, not when his own father is afraid of the men at the door and isn’t even present - he’s at the casino again, he guesses, spending the money that they don’t have on drink and gambling himself into an even bigger debt they can’t afford. He curses his father for leading them into this situation, this place in time where he had stooped to a further low by borrowing from the kkangpae; only idiots in desperation would even consider this.
He rises from the dusty sofa, and takes hesitant, small steps towards the door, trying to calm himself with a deep breath.
‘I’m sorry,' he tells them when he opens the door to a man in a dark trench coat who towers over him; he is sheltered from the oncoming drizzle falling from the dark night sky that slants against the front of his apartment and at the man’s back. 'We still don’t have the money, just give us another month, I’m working as hard as I can-’
The man has a cap pulled low over his eyes, a dark scarf wrapped around his face so that only the bridge of his nose is visible and his voice is muffled.
‘We have your father.’
Taemin feels his knees go weak. Not his father. He’s heard stories about what the kkangpae have done to their captives before - tortured to death, even with wives and crying children begging them not to. They won’t stop, not until they have their money.
‘..Please.’ He’s clinging onto the doorframe for support, unsure if his father is still alive at this point. ‘What can I do? I know it’s the money, I’m working all day as it is-‘
He’s cut off again, the man uninterested in his desperate pleas. ‘I was given instructions to bring you to him.’
Taemin’s not worried about his own safety, more worried about his father and the situation he’s in, so he doesn’t argue. Leaving the door open, he rushes to grab a coat to protect himself from the chill in the night air. It's threadbare, worn at the elbows with threads coming unraveled, but it's the best he has, money consumed by his father’s debts.
The man’s pace is fast, and Taemin struggles to keep up with him, following a step behind even though he is practically jogging. There’s not far to walk to the car parked around the corner of his street, and although he’s always been told not to get into a stranger’s car when he was a child by his parents, and he now finds it ironic that it is because of his father that he is doing the complete opposite.
There’s a tense silence - at least for him anyway; the man in the driver’s seat is probably used to this, and of course is not interested in conversation. To avoid the silence, Taemin focuses on the surroundings flashing past the car windows, trying desperately to remember the road names and looking for a clue to where they are going. They take too many turns and detours for him to keep up with though, and he suspects that this is intentional on the driver’s part.
The building in front of them looks abandoned and old, with discoloured graffiti over the concrete walls and stains that Taemin doesn’t want to know the source of. He’s led up the metal staircase, a dull thud on every step he takes. It’s quiet inside, smells of old sweat and a dark musk that sets a dull burn to his nose, and he thinks he hears a cry from inside the building and that, not the cool breeze that is blowing in sends a shiver up his spine.
His kidnapper talks in a low voice to the men sitting at the table playing cards and smoking cigarettes, a heady daze of smoke cloaking them and making their corner of the room hazy and mysterious, but he is only able to catch a few words that drift to him.
‘Boss’, ‘busy’, and he thinks he hears something about a woman and crude laughter ensues.
He is motioned to with a crook of a finger, and he follows the man as he disappears along the corridor, running again to keep up. A door is opened, and the man momentarily pops his head in - ‘He’s here, boss’, and roughly grabs Taemin by the arm, blunt nails digging into sensitive flesh and shoving him into the room, closing the door with a muted click behind him.
The room is large, less dingy than the corridor that leads to it and could almost be considered a normal office, bar the knives and carefully crafted swords that sit in glass cases lining the room.
His gaze focuses in on the man sitting behind the wooden desk, and he is surprised to find the man is relatively young, contrary to what he was expecting. He could almost be described as handsome, with cropped black hair that emphasizes his sharp jawline, smoothness of skin interrupted by a thin, faded scar on his left cheekbone.
But in his eyes is something dark and sinister, and they flash as Taemin catches his stare with his own.
‘Sit.’
Taemin is wary of sitting in a room with weapons at every side, even though he is incapable of defending himself if the situation arose. But his voice is authoritative. It's clear that everyone obeys him and he expects nothing less, so to prevent himself from dying right then and there Taemin follow his instructions, sinking into the cushioned chair in front of the desk.
The man before him clasps his hands together, eyes appraising as he takes in Taemin’s delicate features.
‘Your father owes us money,’ he states simply.
Taemin bows his head in apology, unwilling to meet the fierce gaze again; it’s too intense, something about it that says he is easily read like an open book, and perhaps that the man already knows too much about him. ‘Yes, I’m sorry’, he repeats himself. ‘I’ve been working as much as I can, and-‘
No one is interested in letting him finish his sentences today. ‘What do you work as?’
How is he supposed to answer this question in this circumstance, when his profession is the complete opposite of what these kkangpae run?
‘…A lawyer, sir.’
There’s a dark chuckle, and Taemin hears a movement, a scrape of chair legs and fears for the worst. He shrinks back into himself when he feels a smooth hand take his chin, cool fingers with a gentle grasp tilting his head up so there is nowhere to look but into his eyes.
‘Afraid, are we?’ he murmurs. He lets go, and Taemin’s head drops suddenly, the sudden jolt causing a sharp pain through his jaw and leaving his eyes downcast.
‘Thing is, Taemin-ah, even though it’s your father that owes us money, he has no way to pay it back. And it’s not like he’s going to win the jackpot at the casino soon, is he?’ The man is now pacing the wooden floor behind Taemin, rubber insoles creating a squeak against the polished floor.
The pacing comes to a halt.
‘You’ll work for us.’
Taemin cannot refuse, and he struggles to keep his face from slipping from its mask of apparent calm. He must do whatever this man says, even if it is against the oath he took when he first became a lawyer, even if he has to sell drugs and chase after innocent strangers like himself, so long as his father is safe.
‘Now, now. We can’t have someone as pure as you on the street, can we?’ His tone is mocking, condescending even and Taemin feels like a stupid, stupid kitten fallen prey.
‘Don’t worry, Taemin. We’re not introducing you into street life.’
He can feel the man’s fingers grasping the back of his chair, his voice deep and with a low hum beside his ear. Then there is a sudden absence, and he can breathe again.
‘Jonghyun.’ His voice isn’t raised by much, but almost immediately the door opens. A man appears, this one short and bulky with a contradicting sharp jawline and warm, eyes that seem to have a warm glow.
‘Yes, boss?’
The boss gestures behind himself with a thumb, pointing out Taemin even though he is the only other being in the room. ‘He’s going to work for us.’
Jonghyun cocks his head to the side, runs his eyes quickly up and down Taemin’s figure. He feels uncomfortable from these eyes examining his body in such great detail, especially when his shirt is loosely buttoned and falls open to show a glimpse of his pale chest and prominent collarbones.
‘We can charge a good amount for him. He’s young, after all, and he looks shy. Men like that.’
He wonders if he would be able to go through with that, with greedy, clammy hands of old men groping his naked body, whoring himself out for money, even if it was for his father. What would he think of his son?
But Taemin hears something crack; puts it down to the boss’ fists, which are now curled up in tightly. His tone is now seething, barely concealing the anger that cracks through the thin mask.
‘Not like that, Jonghyun. As a lawyer. I was calling you to bring in the documents.’
The bulky man scratches the back of his neck self-consciously with a sheepish grin, and Taemin thinks he can even see a light blush colouring the man’s cheeks. He unconsciously tenses his body, expecting violence from the way Jonghyun ducks his head and the way the boss takes a step closer to him.
There’s a nervous laugh. ‘Sorry, boss. I thought he was a late delivery, after the van that came by yesterday.’
He is dismissed with a wave of a hand, and the man sits back behind the desk again with a sigh.
‘Forgive me for a bad first impression, Taemin. You may call me Minho.’
‘…But, sir, everyone refers to you as the boss. I’m not sure whether or not that is appropriate.’
There is an incomprehensible flicker in Minho’s eyes, and a still pause before he replies.
‘I am not the boss, Taemin. Merely…his right hand man.’ He nods to himself before raising his head again. ‘The boss is away now, overseas to deal with business.’
~
Taemin returns home, head dizzying after endless pieces of paper meticulously filed away in order, having gleaned information partly from sitting in the room looking at the archives of money owed to the kkangpae, and also from eavesdropping on the associates’ gossiping through an open door. The boss, he's discovered, is a marvelous mastermind, cunning and deceiving his rivals. He’s also heard tales of the men the boss has killed, whispered awe at how he has managed to overturn leaders in other mafias by monopolizing the drug trade in Korea.
Minho had driven him back home after hours of work, and despite working for such a ruthless man he appeared to be considerate, lulling Taemin into a sense of security. He had chattered away to Taemin during the journey back home about anything and everything, so unlike the previous man who had studiously ignored him, and he wondered if it was really possible that they worked for the same person.
~
Lee Taemin.
I haven’t seen you for such a long time.
I do hope you’ve been keeping well.
But of course, you don’t remember me, do you?
~
It’s a week before Minho gets into contact with Taemin again, and he is not sure whether or not to feel relieved at the phone call, or to be filled with dread at the sound of the wingman’s baritone voice. He’s just finished his morning shower when the phone rings, although it’s relatively late because of the long lie in he had. Taemin wonders if the thought of a friendly kkangpae was just something he fooled himself into believing, conjured up by himself even, and is even more apprehensive when Minho appears in front of his building in a sleek, shiny car, getting out of the driver’s seat in order to go around and open the passenger door for Taemin with a smile that is too clinically white.
Minho offers to bring Taemin to a restaurant to go over plans and details, and he gratefully accepts, looking forward to the prospect of good food and not having to return to that dingy warehouse. He is yet again charming, and Taemin cannot help but feel flustered at the amount of concentration is paid to him, even when the beautiful waitress attempts to flirt with Minho whilst servicing them. It seems as though Minho’s gaze is only for him, deterring only for the briefest of moments to scan the menu before returning to his crimson face, and he is surprised that the man feels comfortable enough to lean over the table and touch his forearm (even if it is only fleetingly) during dinner.
The waitress asks if they would like a dessert menu, and it takes only a quick glance at Taemin whom is biting his lip for Minho to laugh and ask for one, telling Taemin to order whatever he wants -‘Even have double dessert, if you’re really unable to choose!’, before declining the hopeful waitress himself, telling her that he does not have an appetite for sweet things and instead asking for a cup of coffee with a dash of milk.
Taemin is sated, full to the brim after the piece of almond cheesecake he has had. He feels guilty causing Minho to spend so much and offers some dessert to him on his fork, and to his surprise the other man eats it, plum lips closing around the same place where his had previously been.
Also to his surprise, Minho had subtly steered the conversation to matters other than the work involved during the meal, and Taemin found himself conversing with the man about topics such as why peanut butter would always taste better with condensed milk rather than with jam and how the sky was so perfectly blue today, wind blowing the scent of fresh laundry hung out to dry with the freshly cut grass down below.
In fact, they had spent a maximum of five minutes talking about what they were actually supposed to talk about, and a lot more time on useless things such as how Minho’s first pet was a lizard and he had tried to make it sleep on his feet to keep them warm during the winter nights only for him to discover it gone in the morning.
Taemin is worried about the work they were supposed to cover, though, and he offers to Minho to come over to the warehouse after they leave the restaurant. Minho’s laughter is warm and fills their dining area with his chuckles, and he finds himself smiling despite nothing being funny, just because his laughs are nice to listen to - rich and making him feel content and complacent inside - he wants to make Minho laugh a lot more if he gets to hear that again.
‘No, Taemin-ah. It’s alright. I have business to attend to, and it’s probably best if I do that by myself.’
‘…Oh.’ A thought strikes him quickly, and it’s out of his mouth before his head is allowed to think. ‘Has the boss come back yet?’
He thinks he sees Minho’s lips purse a little, and wonders if he has asked the wrong question.
‘No, Taemin.’ Minho’s gaze flickers over to the waitress, and he calls her over for the bill before turning his attention back to him again. ‘He’s still overseas, he’ll be there for a while I think.’
~
Taemin-ah.
You still don’t know who I am, do you?
I thought you would, even if you are forgetful.
Do these memories mean nothing to you?
~
Taemin considers initiating contact first this time, but when he goes to the phone he realizes that he doesn’t have Minho’s number; in fact, he has never given Minho his number himself, either. He thinks about dropping by the warehouse, but brushes off the thought after thinking about it logically - what if they were dealing with business again? Taemin doesn’t want to get caught up with that, even if he is supposed to be working for them now. There’s also the possibility that he’ll get lost, and Taemin doesn’t want to have to ask for directions in that part of town.
It’s pure relief when Minho calls after only 3 days, his voice sounding perkier and with more excitement than the two times Taemin has seen him.
‘Taemin, there’s an amusement park that’s been set up close to us, they’re visiting for a month. Let’s go!’
‘Wait, what? An amusement park? Shouldn’t you be phoning for me to work, not-’
‘Hush, Taemin. It’s been too long since I’ve been to one. I’ll come by to pick you up.’
The ten minutes that it takes Minho to drive to his apartment consists of Taemin hastily getting changed into something he deems amusement park appropriate - if there is such a thing. He tugs a brush through his hair, annoyed that it doesn’t seem to lie properly when he looks into the mirror. His skin seems to be paler than before, faint purplish bruises from lack of sleep surrounding his eyes. Throwing the brush down in frustration, he gives up and settles on the sofa to await his arrival, head turning to the window every time a car drives past.
There’s two quick raps on the door, and Taemin rushes out, having already put on his shoes to save time when he came. Minho chuckles when he nearly collides into him as he turns to lock the door, and he can already feel a burn to the tips of his ears. Clearing his throat self-consciously, he stuffs his hands into his pockets when he turns to the taller man, waiting for him to lead the way to his car.
‘Taemin-ah, I hope you weren’t doing anything important, were you? Oh, have you eaten yet?’
Maybe, a friendly kkangpae isn’t just a figment of his imagination after all.
‘Um, no, of course not. But-’ he wonders if Minho will get angry again with another question - if this is a question that he is allowed to ask. ‘Why did you ask me to go to the amusement park with you?’
There’s a moment when Minho takes his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at him, quick and Taemin almost regrets asking his question - so long as Minho got in touch with him, that should be all that mattered, right?
‘Ah, excuse me, Taemin.’ His voice has gone solemn again, sincerity heard when the tone of excitement is dropped. ‘I just - I feel so comfortable with you; I forget that we’ve only met twice.’ He gives a short laugh. ‘I don’t really want to hang around with the kkangpae all the time, and you - well, you’re like a breath of fresh air that I need.’
There’s a silence whilst Taemin takes this in, and Minho keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the road as he continues driving.
‘I can turn around and drive you back home, if you want. I just thought that you would want to go to - well, I didn’t want to go with Jonghyun.’
‘It’s alright. I’ll go with you.’ His voice comes out softer than he expected, and he clears his throat again. He can feel it becoming hoarse. ‘I haven’t been to the park since high school, it seems.’
‘Me either.’
~
They’ve been on the bumper cars; Minho drove, of course. They were able to crash into other cars and with his driving skills, escape without being hit themselves. In fact, due to this they had become the target of a gang of teenage boys who gave pursuit and chased after them, but Minho practically ran circles around them, laughing gleefully as he maneuvered the steering wheel effortlessly. Taemin was breathless from laughing and turning his head to watch the teenagers behind them, calling out whenever he saw someone about to attack. The boys stared daggers at them when their time was up and they got out of their car, clutching each other for support from legs shaky like jelly.
The rollercoaster ride is next, and the ride attendant mistakenly thinks that they are a couple, and tells them that they can have the front seat in order to get a better picture (‘They even have heart shaped frames for you to put it in!’), and whilst a red flush creeps up Taemin’s cheeks yet again as he tries to tell her otherwise, Minho grins and thanks her, grabbing hold of Taemin’s wrist as he leads the way to the front seats.
Minho is able to win a giant teddy bear for Taemin at a stall where you have to shoot down 3 targets, and Taemin supposes that it isn’t all that surprising that Minho is gets each one exactly in the middle. Taemin tries to graciously refuse the teddy offered to him, but he insists and stuffs it into Taemin’s arms, leaving him forced to hug it to his chest as they make their way through the rest of the park.
‘You could give it to your girlfriend, you know.’
‘But I want to give it to you.’
It’s getting late, the park due to close in an hour and the night making its presence known. They aimlessly follow a crowd that’s forming, wondering what attraction is gathering all these people and waits patiently when the crowd comes to a halt. Taemin puts the bear down on his feet so its back is leaning up against his legs, and waits for Minho to return from a phone call he’s been forced to take.
Mere minutes pass before he comes back, a slight frown creasing his brows.
‘Who was that?’
‘Just business, Taemin. I have…something to take care of after this.’ Minho’s looking away from him, eyes running over the crowd and Taemin feels as though he is purposely avoiding eye contact.
‘Boss, we’ve just checked our bills, and from all that Taemin’s
done he’s paid twice over what he owed. His father’s free to go.’
‘Already?’
‘Yeah, should we let him out of that little apartment now or what?’
‘…Not yet, Jonghyun. Not yet.’
‘Also, that other guy’s been giving us trouble again, not listening
to our terms. He won’t stick to his side of the contract.’
‘I’ll take care of him afterwards.’
‘How did you ever get into this business?’ His voice is soft, so quiet that Minho could pretend that he didn’t hear him, even though Taemin knows he can.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets before answering. ‘I was never that good at school, you know? I mean, I got decent grades, but it was never good enough, not in the top band but not at the bottom either. I was average, and this way of life - it’s easy, that’s what it is.’
Taemin pauses, thinking carefully of what to say. He doesn’t want to offend Minho. ‘You remind me of a friend I used to know back in high school. He wasn’t spectacularly smart, but once, he wanted to prove something to his parents so he studied hard for three days, almost with no sleep. He got an A, and he proved his parents wrong. You could do anything you want, Minho. So long as you believe that you can.’
Minho tilts his head up to the sky, eyes searching the sky for stars.
‘Sometimes, I think about running away from all this. Start afresh by the sea side, where no one knows who I am and I can live a simple life, maybe even fishing by the sea if I want. Those little towns where tourists only pass through, you know?’
There’s silence as Taemin comprehends the difference between the life he lives now and he life he wants, but before he can reply there’s a flash of bright light in the sky.
It’s a brilliant red in the sky, a flashing emerald green to accompany it as fireworks light up the sky. Bangs are accompanied by even more bangs, and as sparks fall they drift past new streaks shooting up into the sky that leave a white trail in the black, fizzing their way up to explode into a million tiny pieces. It’s beautiful, multiple fireworks going up at once to form a flower, a heart, fireworks that seem to collide into each other and have their colours mix together. The display leaves Taemin breathless in its splendor, and all he can do is watch as a multitude of colours decorate the sky for their own fleeting moments.
~
They’ve stopped outside Taemin’s apartment, silence engulfing them as Minho turns the engine off. Darkness blankets them, and Taemin can make out the smooth curve of Minho’s nose against the yellowness of the streetlights.
‘Well. Taemin-ah, I hope you’ve had fun and that I didn’t waste your evening and I promise next time I’ll phone at least an hour before I come to pick you up.’ Minho laughs sheepishly, glancing over before averting his eyes straight ahead of him. His body is turned slightly to Taemin, the arm that he is leaning on behind his body quickly losing circulation.
A smile plays over Taemin’s lips as he rests his head against the seat.
‘Minho. You know how you said before how you felt comfortable with me? I feel that too. It feels like - like I know you before from somewhere. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?’ Minho’s eyes are on him now, different from how he would generally glance away after a few seconds. ‘Anyway, I’m glad that you phoned today. I should go now, you still need to get back.’
Getting out of the car, he leans into the backseat to retrieve the bear and closes the door gently after wishing Minho a gentle ‘goodbye’. He’s still silent, eyes tracking Taemin’s movements but making no attempts to say his farewell.
Taemin sets the bear down again to rifle through his coat pockets for his keys, and frowns at the amount of tissues and receipts and sweet wrappers that have accumulated inside. He has his key inside his lock when he hears a call, and the slap of quick footsteps against the concrete path.
‘Taemin, wait!’
Minho’s approaching him, and he wonders if he’s left something behind in his car, or if he has something he had forgotten to discuss with him.
He’s puzzled when Minho takes his chin in one hand, a firm grasp and their bodies are so close together that Taemin takes a step back, trapped against the door but he can’t duck his head because Minho’s hands force him to look ahead, straight up into his eyes. Minho’s face gets closer and closer, and he squeezes his eyes shut on instinct.
Firm, slightly chapped lips cover his own for the briefest of moments, and there’s a burst of warmth. It feels like there’s something heavy weighing down in his stomach, a tingling glow that spreads from his core before an emptiness of cool air when they separate.
Minho’s let go, taken a few steps back and scratching the back of his neck again.
‘Sorry, Taemin. I don’t - know why. Can we just forge-’
Taemin closes the distance himself this time, and winds his arms around Minho’s neck in order to pull him down. Minho doesn’t try to resist, and his lips fit over his like they did before, but Taemin kisses harder because he wants more. The kiss is longer this time, deeper because Taemin refuses to allow Minho to pull away and he doesn’t try to. He tastes of the candy floss that they ate before and of warmth and reassurance, slow and smooth in the way he parts his lips and easiness in the way his hands slips behind his coat to fit on the small of Taemin’s back.
They part only when they run out of air, and Minho’s hands moves to the sides of his hips and Taemin’s slides down to lie flat on his chest. He can feel his thumbs rubbing through the thin fabric of his t-shirt as their breathing steadies, and Taemin lets go of Minho falteringly, stepping away and looking up with cheeks tinted red.
‘I should go now, you still have stuff to do, right?’’
Taemin’s eyes are immediately drawn to Minho’s lips whilst he waits for a reply, swollen and even redder than usual, the overhead light lending a subtle shine.
‘Taemin-ah. I’ll call you soon.’
He gives a small nod, the corners of his mouth tugging up and he ducks his head to hide this as he fiddles with the key and picks up his bear again. The man stands a little away from the door, eyes soft and with a pleased smile to himself, hands stuffed into pockets as Taemin utters another ‘bye’ and shuts the door.
Next
Pairing: 2min
Rating: PG-13
Genre: mafia!minho, drama, romance of sorts, unintentional slight fluff
Summary: Taemin's father has run up a debt, leaving Taemin with no choice but to work for the kkangpae. He meets Minho, who is the wingman of the Boss. But is it all as it seems it is?
Word Count: A whopping 9,353 words. I got really side tracked ok
A/N: Written for the prompt over at twominkink, and largely unedited or unbetaed in any way because honestfrank has disappeared somewhere .__. Anon, I'm sorry it's so late! It took me ages to restart this and a lot longer than I thought it would take me. I hope you like it, I kind of got off track ;~~;
And LJ isn't letting me put it under a cut whyyy
And I'll do another A/N at the end properly otl
The knocking on the door is becoming more and more insistent, and Taemin winces at the noise. It’s dark in the house, only a lamp lit in the corner to provide a dark glow. He doesn’t know what to do, not when his own father is afraid of the men at the door and isn’t even present - he’s at the casino again, he guesses, spending the money that they don’t have on drink and gambling himself into an even bigger debt they can’t afford. He curses his father for leading them into this situation, this place in time where he had stooped to a further low by borrowing from the kkangpae; only idiots in desperation would even consider this.
He rises from the dusty sofa, and takes hesitant, small steps towards the door, trying to calm himself with a deep breath.
‘I’m sorry,' he tells them when he opens the door to a man in a dark trench coat who towers over him; he is sheltered from the oncoming drizzle falling from the dark night sky that slants against the front of his apartment and at the man’s back. 'We still don’t have the money, just give us another month, I’m working as hard as I can-’
The man has a cap pulled low over his eyes, a dark scarf wrapped around his face so that only the bridge of his nose is visible and his voice is muffled.
‘We have your father.’
Taemin feels his knees go weak. Not his father. He’s heard stories about what the kkangpae have done to their captives before - tortured to death, even with wives and crying children begging them not to. They won’t stop, not until they have their money.
‘..Please.’ He’s clinging onto the doorframe for support, unsure if his father is still alive at this point. ‘What can I do? I know it’s the money, I’m working all day as it is-‘
He’s cut off again, the man uninterested in his desperate pleas. ‘I was given instructions to bring you to him.’
Taemin’s not worried about his own safety, more worried about his father and the situation he’s in, so he doesn’t argue. Leaving the door open, he rushes to grab a coat to protect himself from the chill in the night air. It's threadbare, worn at the elbows with threads coming unraveled, but it's the best he has, money consumed by his father’s debts.
The man’s pace is fast, and Taemin struggles to keep up with him, following a step behind even though he is practically jogging. There’s not far to walk to the car parked around the corner of his street, and although he’s always been told not to get into a stranger’s car when he was a child by his parents, and he now finds it ironic that it is because of his father that he is doing the complete opposite.
There’s a tense silence - at least for him anyway; the man in the driver’s seat is probably used to this, and of course is not interested in conversation. To avoid the silence, Taemin focuses on the surroundings flashing past the car windows, trying desperately to remember the road names and looking for a clue to where they are going. They take too many turns and detours for him to keep up with though, and he suspects that this is intentional on the driver’s part.
The building in front of them looks abandoned and old, with discoloured graffiti over the concrete walls and stains that Taemin doesn’t want to know the source of. He’s led up the metal staircase, a dull thud on every step he takes. It’s quiet inside, smells of old sweat and a dark musk that sets a dull burn to his nose, and he thinks he hears a cry from inside the building and that, not the cool breeze that is blowing in sends a shiver up his spine.
His kidnapper talks in a low voice to the men sitting at the table playing cards and smoking cigarettes, a heady daze of smoke cloaking them and making their corner of the room hazy and mysterious, but he is only able to catch a few words that drift to him.
‘Boss’, ‘busy’, and he thinks he hears something about a woman and crude laughter ensues.
He is motioned to with a crook of a finger, and he follows the man as he disappears along the corridor, running again to keep up. A door is opened, and the man momentarily pops his head in - ‘He’s here, boss’, and roughly grabs Taemin by the arm, blunt nails digging into sensitive flesh and shoving him into the room, closing the door with a muted click behind him.
The room is large, less dingy than the corridor that leads to it and could almost be considered a normal office, bar the knives and carefully crafted swords that sit in glass cases lining the room.
His gaze focuses in on the man sitting behind the wooden desk, and he is surprised to find the man is relatively young, contrary to what he was expecting. He could almost be described as handsome, with cropped black hair that emphasizes his sharp jawline, smoothness of skin interrupted by a thin, faded scar on his left cheekbone.
But in his eyes is something dark and sinister, and they flash as Taemin catches his stare with his own.
‘Sit.’
Taemin is wary of sitting in a room with weapons at every side, even though he is incapable of defending himself if the situation arose. But his voice is authoritative. It's clear that everyone obeys him and he expects nothing less, so to prevent himself from dying right then and there Taemin follow his instructions, sinking into the cushioned chair in front of the desk.
The man before him clasps his hands together, eyes appraising as he takes in Taemin’s delicate features.
‘Your father owes us money,’ he states simply.
Taemin bows his head in apology, unwilling to meet the fierce gaze again; it’s too intense, something about it that says he is easily read like an open book, and perhaps that the man already knows too much about him. ‘Yes, I’m sorry’, he repeats himself. ‘I’ve been working as much as I can, and-‘
No one is interested in letting him finish his sentences today. ‘What do you work as?’
How is he supposed to answer this question in this circumstance, when his profession is the complete opposite of what these kkangpae run?
‘…A lawyer, sir.’
There’s a dark chuckle, and Taemin hears a movement, a scrape of chair legs and fears for the worst. He shrinks back into himself when he feels a smooth hand take his chin, cool fingers with a gentle grasp tilting his head up so there is nowhere to look but into his eyes.
‘Afraid, are we?’ he murmurs. He lets go, and Taemin’s head drops suddenly, the sudden jolt causing a sharp pain through his jaw and leaving his eyes downcast.
‘Thing is, Taemin-ah, even though it’s your father that owes us money, he has no way to pay it back. And it’s not like he’s going to win the jackpot at the casino soon, is he?’ The man is now pacing the wooden floor behind Taemin, rubber insoles creating a squeak against the polished floor.
The pacing comes to a halt.
‘You’ll work for us.’
Taemin cannot refuse, and he struggles to keep his face from slipping from its mask of apparent calm. He must do whatever this man says, even if it is against the oath he took when he first became a lawyer, even if he has to sell drugs and chase after innocent strangers like himself, so long as his father is safe.
‘Now, now. We can’t have someone as pure as you on the street, can we?’ His tone is mocking, condescending even and Taemin feels like a stupid, stupid kitten fallen prey.
‘Don’t worry, Taemin. We’re not introducing you into street life.’
He can feel the man’s fingers grasping the back of his chair, his voice deep and with a low hum beside his ear. Then there is a sudden absence, and he can breathe again.
‘Jonghyun.’ His voice isn’t raised by much, but almost immediately the door opens. A man appears, this one short and bulky with a contradicting sharp jawline and warm, eyes that seem to have a warm glow.
‘Yes, boss?’
The boss gestures behind himself with a thumb, pointing out Taemin even though he is the only other being in the room. ‘He’s going to work for us.’
Jonghyun cocks his head to the side, runs his eyes quickly up and down Taemin’s figure. He feels uncomfortable from these eyes examining his body in such great detail, especially when his shirt is loosely buttoned and falls open to show a glimpse of his pale chest and prominent collarbones.
‘We can charge a good amount for him. He’s young, after all, and he looks shy. Men like that.’
He wonders if he would be able to go through with that, with greedy, clammy hands of old men groping his naked body, whoring himself out for money, even if it was for his father. What would he think of his son?
But Taemin hears something crack; puts it down to the boss’ fists, which are now curled up in tightly. His tone is now seething, barely concealing the anger that cracks through the thin mask.
‘Not like that, Jonghyun. As a lawyer. I was calling you to bring in the documents.’
The bulky man scratches the back of his neck self-consciously with a sheepish grin, and Taemin thinks he can even see a light blush colouring the man’s cheeks. He unconsciously tenses his body, expecting violence from the way Jonghyun ducks his head and the way the boss takes a step closer to him.
There’s a nervous laugh. ‘Sorry, boss. I thought he was a late delivery, after the van that came by yesterday.’
He is dismissed with a wave of a hand, and the man sits back behind the desk again with a sigh.
‘Forgive me for a bad first impression, Taemin. You may call me Minho.’
‘…But, sir, everyone refers to you as the boss. I’m not sure whether or not that is appropriate.’
There is an incomprehensible flicker in Minho’s eyes, and a still pause before he replies.
‘I am not the boss, Taemin. Merely…his right hand man.’ He nods to himself before raising his head again. ‘The boss is away now, overseas to deal with business.’
~
Taemin returns home, head dizzying after endless pieces of paper meticulously filed away in order, having gleaned information partly from sitting in the room looking at the archives of money owed to the kkangpae, and also from eavesdropping on the associates’ gossiping through an open door. The boss, he's discovered, is a marvelous mastermind, cunning and deceiving his rivals. He’s also heard tales of the men the boss has killed, whispered awe at how he has managed to overturn leaders in other mafias by monopolizing the drug trade in Korea.
Minho had driven him back home after hours of work, and despite working for such a ruthless man he appeared to be considerate, lulling Taemin into a sense of security. He had chattered away to Taemin during the journey back home about anything and everything, so unlike the previous man who had studiously ignored him, and he wondered if it was really possible that they worked for the same person.
~
Lee Taemin.
I haven’t seen you for such a long time.
I do hope you’ve been keeping well.
But of course, you don’t remember me, do you?
~
It’s a week before Minho gets into contact with Taemin again, and he is not sure whether or not to feel relieved at the phone call, or to be filled with dread at the sound of the wingman’s baritone voice. He’s just finished his morning shower when the phone rings, although it’s relatively late because of the long lie in he had. Taemin wonders if the thought of a friendly kkangpae was just something he fooled himself into believing, conjured up by himself even, and is even more apprehensive when Minho appears in front of his building in a sleek, shiny car, getting out of the driver’s seat in order to go around and open the passenger door for Taemin with a smile that is too clinically white.
Minho offers to bring Taemin to a restaurant to go over plans and details, and he gratefully accepts, looking forward to the prospect of good food and not having to return to that dingy warehouse. He is yet again charming, and Taemin cannot help but feel flustered at the amount of concentration is paid to him, even when the beautiful waitress attempts to flirt with Minho whilst servicing them. It seems as though Minho’s gaze is only for him, deterring only for the briefest of moments to scan the menu before returning to his crimson face, and he is surprised that the man feels comfortable enough to lean over the table and touch his forearm (even if it is only fleetingly) during dinner.
The waitress asks if they would like a dessert menu, and it takes only a quick glance at Taemin whom is biting his lip for Minho to laugh and ask for one, telling Taemin to order whatever he wants -‘Even have double dessert, if you’re really unable to choose!’, before declining the hopeful waitress himself, telling her that he does not have an appetite for sweet things and instead asking for a cup of coffee with a dash of milk.
Taemin is sated, full to the brim after the piece of almond cheesecake he has had. He feels guilty causing Minho to spend so much and offers some dessert to him on his fork, and to his surprise the other man eats it, plum lips closing around the same place where his had previously been.
Also to his surprise, Minho had subtly steered the conversation to matters other than the work involved during the meal, and Taemin found himself conversing with the man about topics such as why peanut butter would always taste better with condensed milk rather than with jam and how the sky was so perfectly blue today, wind blowing the scent of fresh laundry hung out to dry with the freshly cut grass down below.
In fact, they had spent a maximum of five minutes talking about what they were actually supposed to talk about, and a lot more time on useless things such as how Minho’s first pet was a lizard and he had tried to make it sleep on his feet to keep them warm during the winter nights only for him to discover it gone in the morning.
Taemin is worried about the work they were supposed to cover, though, and he offers to Minho to come over to the warehouse after they leave the restaurant. Minho’s laughter is warm and fills their dining area with his chuckles, and he finds himself smiling despite nothing being funny, just because his laughs are nice to listen to - rich and making him feel content and complacent inside - he wants to make Minho laugh a lot more if he gets to hear that again.
‘No, Taemin-ah. It’s alright. I have business to attend to, and it’s probably best if I do that by myself.’
‘…Oh.’ A thought strikes him quickly, and it’s out of his mouth before his head is allowed to think. ‘Has the boss come back yet?’
He thinks he sees Minho’s lips purse a little, and wonders if he has asked the wrong question.
‘No, Taemin.’ Minho’s gaze flickers over to the waitress, and he calls her over for the bill before turning his attention back to him again. ‘He’s still overseas, he’ll be there for a while I think.’
~
Taemin-ah.
You still don’t know who I am, do you?
I thought you would, even if you are forgetful.
Do these memories mean nothing to you?
~
Taemin considers initiating contact first this time, but when he goes to the phone he realizes that he doesn’t have Minho’s number; in fact, he has never given Minho his number himself, either. He thinks about dropping by the warehouse, but brushes off the thought after thinking about it logically - what if they were dealing with business again? Taemin doesn’t want to get caught up with that, even if he is supposed to be working for them now. There’s also the possibility that he’ll get lost, and Taemin doesn’t want to have to ask for directions in that part of town.
It’s pure relief when Minho calls after only 3 days, his voice sounding perkier and with more excitement than the two times Taemin has seen him.
‘Taemin, there’s an amusement park that’s been set up close to us, they’re visiting for a month. Let’s go!’
‘Wait, what? An amusement park? Shouldn’t you be phoning for me to work, not-’
‘Hush, Taemin. It’s been too long since I’ve been to one. I’ll come by to pick you up.’
The ten minutes that it takes Minho to drive to his apartment consists of Taemin hastily getting changed into something he deems amusement park appropriate - if there is such a thing. He tugs a brush through his hair, annoyed that it doesn’t seem to lie properly when he looks into the mirror. His skin seems to be paler than before, faint purplish bruises from lack of sleep surrounding his eyes. Throwing the brush down in frustration, he gives up and settles on the sofa to await his arrival, head turning to the window every time a car drives past.
There’s two quick raps on the door, and Taemin rushes out, having already put on his shoes to save time when he came. Minho chuckles when he nearly collides into him as he turns to lock the door, and he can already feel a burn to the tips of his ears. Clearing his throat self-consciously, he stuffs his hands into his pockets when he turns to the taller man, waiting for him to lead the way to his car.
‘Taemin-ah, I hope you weren’t doing anything important, were you? Oh, have you eaten yet?’
Maybe, a friendly kkangpae isn’t just a figment of his imagination after all.
‘Um, no, of course not. But-’ he wonders if Minho will get angry again with another question - if this is a question that he is allowed to ask. ‘Why did you ask me to go to the amusement park with you?’
There’s a moment when Minho takes his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at him, quick and Taemin almost regrets asking his question - so long as Minho got in touch with him, that should be all that mattered, right?
‘Ah, excuse me, Taemin.’ His voice has gone solemn again, sincerity heard when the tone of excitement is dropped. ‘I just - I feel so comfortable with you; I forget that we’ve only met twice.’ He gives a short laugh. ‘I don’t really want to hang around with the kkangpae all the time, and you - well, you’re like a breath of fresh air that I need.’
There’s a silence whilst Taemin takes this in, and Minho keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the road as he continues driving.
‘I can turn around and drive you back home, if you want. I just thought that you would want to go to - well, I didn’t want to go with Jonghyun.’
‘It’s alright. I’ll go with you.’ His voice comes out softer than he expected, and he clears his throat again. He can feel it becoming hoarse. ‘I haven’t been to the park since high school, it seems.’
‘Me either.’
~
They’ve been on the bumper cars; Minho drove, of course. They were able to crash into other cars and with his driving skills, escape without being hit themselves. In fact, due to this they had become the target of a gang of teenage boys who gave pursuit and chased after them, but Minho practically ran circles around them, laughing gleefully as he maneuvered the steering wheel effortlessly. Taemin was breathless from laughing and turning his head to watch the teenagers behind them, calling out whenever he saw someone about to attack. The boys stared daggers at them when their time was up and they got out of their car, clutching each other for support from legs shaky like jelly.
The rollercoaster ride is next, and the ride attendant mistakenly thinks that they are a couple, and tells them that they can have the front seat in order to get a better picture (‘They even have heart shaped frames for you to put it in!’), and whilst a red flush creeps up Taemin’s cheeks yet again as he tries to tell her otherwise, Minho grins and thanks her, grabbing hold of Taemin’s wrist as he leads the way to the front seats.
Minho is able to win a giant teddy bear for Taemin at a stall where you have to shoot down 3 targets, and Taemin supposes that it isn’t all that surprising that Minho is gets each one exactly in the middle. Taemin tries to graciously refuse the teddy offered to him, but he insists and stuffs it into Taemin’s arms, leaving him forced to hug it to his chest as they make their way through the rest of the park.
‘You could give it to your girlfriend, you know.’
‘But I want to give it to you.’
It’s getting late, the park due to close in an hour and the night making its presence known. They aimlessly follow a crowd that’s forming, wondering what attraction is gathering all these people and waits patiently when the crowd comes to a halt. Taemin puts the bear down on his feet so its back is leaning up against his legs, and waits for Minho to return from a phone call he’s been forced to take.
Mere minutes pass before he comes back, a slight frown creasing his brows.
‘Who was that?’
‘Just business, Taemin. I have…something to take care of after this.’ Minho’s looking away from him, eyes running over the crowd and Taemin feels as though he is purposely avoiding eye contact.
‘Boss, we’ve just checked our bills, and from all that Taemin’s
done he’s paid twice over what he owed. His father’s free to go.’
‘Already?’
‘Yeah, should we let him out of that little apartment now or what?’
‘…Not yet, Jonghyun. Not yet.’
‘Also, that other guy’s been giving us trouble again, not listening
to our terms. He won’t stick to his side of the contract.’
‘I’ll take care of him afterwards.’
‘How did you ever get into this business?’ His voice is soft, so quiet that Minho could pretend that he didn’t hear him, even though Taemin knows he can.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets before answering. ‘I was never that good at school, you know? I mean, I got decent grades, but it was never good enough, not in the top band but not at the bottom either. I was average, and this way of life - it’s easy, that’s what it is.’
Taemin pauses, thinking carefully of what to say. He doesn’t want to offend Minho. ‘You remind me of a friend I used to know back in high school. He wasn’t spectacularly smart, but once, he wanted to prove something to his parents so he studied hard for three days, almost with no sleep. He got an A, and he proved his parents wrong. You could do anything you want, Minho. So long as you believe that you can.’
Minho tilts his head up to the sky, eyes searching the sky for stars.
‘Sometimes, I think about running away from all this. Start afresh by the sea side, where no one knows who I am and I can live a simple life, maybe even fishing by the sea if I want. Those little towns where tourists only pass through, you know?’
There’s silence as Taemin comprehends the difference between the life he lives now and he life he wants, but before he can reply there’s a flash of bright light in the sky.
It’s a brilliant red in the sky, a flashing emerald green to accompany it as fireworks light up the sky. Bangs are accompanied by even more bangs, and as sparks fall they drift past new streaks shooting up into the sky that leave a white trail in the black, fizzing their way up to explode into a million tiny pieces. It’s beautiful, multiple fireworks going up at once to form a flower, a heart, fireworks that seem to collide into each other and have their colours mix together. The display leaves Taemin breathless in its splendor, and all he can do is watch as a multitude of colours decorate the sky for their own fleeting moments.
~
They’ve stopped outside Taemin’s apartment, silence engulfing them as Minho turns the engine off. Darkness blankets them, and Taemin can make out the smooth curve of Minho’s nose against the yellowness of the streetlights.
‘Well. Taemin-ah, I hope you’ve had fun and that I didn’t waste your evening and I promise next time I’ll phone at least an hour before I come to pick you up.’ Minho laughs sheepishly, glancing over before averting his eyes straight ahead of him. His body is turned slightly to Taemin, the arm that he is leaning on behind his body quickly losing circulation.
A smile plays over Taemin’s lips as he rests his head against the seat.
‘Minho. You know how you said before how you felt comfortable with me? I feel that too. It feels like - like I know you before from somewhere. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?’ Minho’s eyes are on him now, different from how he would generally glance away after a few seconds. ‘Anyway, I’m glad that you phoned today. I should go now, you still need to get back.’
Getting out of the car, he leans into the backseat to retrieve the bear and closes the door gently after wishing Minho a gentle ‘goodbye’. He’s still silent, eyes tracking Taemin’s movements but making no attempts to say his farewell.
Taemin sets the bear down again to rifle through his coat pockets for his keys, and frowns at the amount of tissues and receipts and sweet wrappers that have accumulated inside. He has his key inside his lock when he hears a call, and the slap of quick footsteps against the concrete path.
‘Taemin, wait!’
Minho’s approaching him, and he wonders if he’s left something behind in his car, or if he has something he had forgotten to discuss with him.
He’s puzzled when Minho takes his chin in one hand, a firm grasp and their bodies are so close together that Taemin takes a step back, trapped against the door but he can’t duck his head because Minho’s hands force him to look ahead, straight up into his eyes. Minho’s face gets closer and closer, and he squeezes his eyes shut on instinct.
Firm, slightly chapped lips cover his own for the briefest of moments, and there’s a burst of warmth. It feels like there’s something heavy weighing down in his stomach, a tingling glow that spreads from his core before an emptiness of cool air when they separate.
Minho’s let go, taken a few steps back and scratching the back of his neck again.
‘Sorry, Taemin. I don’t - know why. Can we just forge-’
Taemin closes the distance himself this time, and winds his arms around Minho’s neck in order to pull him down. Minho doesn’t try to resist, and his lips fit over his like they did before, but Taemin kisses harder because he wants more. The kiss is longer this time, deeper because Taemin refuses to allow Minho to pull away and he doesn’t try to. He tastes of the candy floss that they ate before and of warmth and reassurance, slow and smooth in the way he parts his lips and easiness in the way his hands slips behind his coat to fit on the small of Taemin’s back.
They part only when they run out of air, and Minho’s hands moves to the sides of his hips and Taemin’s slides down to lie flat on his chest. He can feel his thumbs rubbing through the thin fabric of his t-shirt as their breathing steadies, and Taemin lets go of Minho falteringly, stepping away and looking up with cheeks tinted red.
‘I should go now, you still have stuff to do, right?’’
Taemin’s eyes are immediately drawn to Minho’s lips whilst he waits for a reply, swollen and even redder than usual, the overhead light lending a subtle shine.
‘Taemin-ah. I’ll call you soon.’
He gives a small nod, the corners of his mouth tugging up and he ducks his head to hide this as he fiddles with the key and picks up his bear again. The man stands a little away from the door, eyes soft and with a pleased smile to himself, hands stuffed into pockets as Taemin utters another ‘bye’ and shuts the door.
Next