All Roads Lead Home 1/2
Sehun/Kris/Chanyeol, 12769, NC17
Sehun only cares about his own, but Kris changes his mind. (Mob!au)
originally written for ohunlimited here
"Boss, we found something. You should come see."
Sehun checks his watch. It's well past midnight, so his driver went home hours ago. He'll have to drive himself. "Alright," he says, pushing back the heavy sheets and stepping out of bed. He wasn't anywhere close to falling asleep, anyway. "I'll be there in ten. Where are you?"
The man on the line says something quietly that Sehun can't quite make out and coughs. "We're on the bridge. The one that just got redone." Sehun hears a little bit of chatter. "Hey, do you think you could get here in less than that?"
Sehun grits his teeth. The streets will be mostly clear. He was giving himself time to throw some actual clothes on, but that can be easily forgotten. "Yeah. I'll be there." He hangs up before the other man can answer. He stretches his arms over his head, tilting his head to the side to work out the slight crick in his neck. These night calls are rare, prompted only by extreme circumstances, so he strides out of his bedroom, snagging the keys hanging by his nightstand as he goes. The last time he got a call was a couple months ago, and that was when a few pounds of goods went missing in the middle of the night. It wasn't hard to recover-Sehun can smell a rat from miles away and he'd been eyeing a certain man for a couple months beforehand. The matter was settled in mere hours. Sehun supposes this will be the same.
He yawns as he jogs down his stairs, walking past the kitchen to take the somewhat-hidden stairs to the garage. He doesn't even look at the Mustang, goes straight to the Hyundai. It's sleek, fast, and inconspicuous. The garage door opens with a creak and a slight shudder-he might have to get it looked at-and he tears out of the place, tires screeching on the road as he goes (he needs his cars to be inconspicuous because he himself is not). There's little to no traffic, it's such a late hour and most people traveling would just be residents of the area. He hopes there's no traffic on the bridge either, he hates doing damage control.
Luckily, it's pretty ugly out-rain sprinkling slightly through thick fog-and anyone out would probably be suicidal. Sehun smiles at that as he tears through empty streets, ignoring red lights and signs in favor of making it to the bridge in under five minutes. It's not particularly hard to find, a huge thing spanning over one of the larger rivers of the city, and once he turns onto it, the small crowd of cars parked by the sides tells him that something big happened.
Sehun parks behind a flashy Ferrari, locks his doors and makes his way over to the small crowd of raincoats by the railing. He's damp by the time he makes his way over, shivering slightly in his t-shirt and sweatpants combo, but he doesn't complain when he sees what the commotion is.
The crowd parts for him without Sehun having to ask, and there, on the ground in front of them, is a body.
Sehun looks around. Everyone seems somber, some with eyes that aren't even focused, and it's easy to see why. On the body lying on the ground, even through the grime and blood caked on the skin, a large scorpion tattoo is visible on a bare left bicep. It's no question who the man is. Anyone in the city would know him as soon as they saw it.
Finally, someone speaks up. "We would have never found him if Joonmyun hadn't taken a different way home. We don't usually have patrols going across this bridge," Jongin murmurs, obviously tired. But he's the one who made the call, so he'd had to stay.
Sehun looks around and spots the older man, huddled in a thick pea coat. "Good job," he says, and the man nods, gaze still on the body.
Sighing, Sehun takes the last few steps forward and kneels by the side of the fallen man. He hates this part. Whether it's one of his own, an unlucky civilian, or a member of a rival group, clean up is the absolute worst. It's a headache, what with the questions to dispel, paperwork to file, and the small chunk he has to take out of his personal account to cover the-Sehun stops, eyes narrowing. He scoots a little closer to the body and... there it is again. Sehun's hand flies forward, already covered in little droplets of water from the rain, and he presses two fingers firmly on the man's neck. His eyes widen. Fuck.
Sehun stands, swivels around in his casual tennis shoes to glare at the people surrounding him and the-very much alive-body. "You didn't even think to check if he was alive?"
There's no answer, only the soft sound of rain.
Soojung's the first to speak, eyes wide above her thick scarf. "He's alive?"
"He's definitely alive," Sehun snaps. Nobody moves. "Well, somebody go call a fucking ambulance!"
Jongin gives a shaky nod and pulls out his phone, taking a few steps away from the others to order an ambulance over. The shift in emotion is palpable, though. The earlier tension that had been thick enough to cut with a knife is no longer there, instead the few people there are huddled close together, a few smiling, sharing words of relief. Sehun doesn't join, just motions over Joonmyun and leans against the bridge railing.
"You found him?"
Joonmyun nods. "I was driving home, and I don't know why, but I thought I'd take a different way. It's weird. I don't know if it was because of the rain or because tomorrow's Tuesday and we're getting another shipment-"
"Joonmyun," Sehun says, voice cool. The man's rambling, something he does when stressed.
"Right, sorry. Well, I was driving over the bridge and I saw something. Well, I knew what it was but I didn't think... anyway, I got out of the car and then called Jongin, and then Jongin called-"
"Everyone," Sehun finishes, nodding to himself. Because that's what Jongin does. "Right. Go home, you've been here long enough. I'll take care of the rest."
Joonmyun nods gratefully and heads back to his car, exhaustion bleeding into his steps. Sehun frowns, the man’s been working too much. He should take another look at the schedule, see if he can move people around to give Joonmyun some down time.
"The ambulance is on the way!" Jongin shouts, and Sehun gives him a curt nod.
"I'll stay here, with him," he nods down towards the body. "You can all leave." The crowd gives a collective sigh and disperses, Soojung and Sunyoung heading back to their cars as Joonmyun drives past. Jongin, however, walks towards Sehun.
"Hey, are you sure you want to wait alone?"
Sehun nods. He's fine, no matter how much Jongin wants to fret over him. "Did Taemin come with you?" He tries to look around the man, trying to peek through the darkened window of the sports car, but it's impossible to see inside, what with the weather and the window tint.
Jongin nods. "Yeah, he didn't want to come out. He's not wearing a shirt," he whispers, small smile on his lips.
"Then, could you drive my car back home? It looks like I'm going to be heading to a hospital instead," he requests, keeping his eyes peeled for the emergency lights in the distance.
Jongin loses the smile. "Oh yeah, sure." He accepts the keys from Sehun and pats the man on the shoulder. "Call me in the morning?"
Sehun nods, patting his friend's back. "We'll figure out a plan then. Thanks for calling me," he says, doing his best to convey his sincerity. He's told that sometimes he can seem a little far-off, but he really is glad that Jongin reached him so quickly. His friend merely gives him a smile and a salute before he's heading back to his car to tell Taemin to follow him back to Sehun's place.
Sehun watches as all the cars drive off, leaving him alone on the bridge, prone body lying behind him. With nothing else to do but wait, he leans down on his haunches by the side of the man and frowns. He lets his fingers come back to rest on the man's neck, because it's a little hard to believe that he's alive, what with the dirt and cuts littering his body-not to mention the large red stain on the man's shirt and the blood that's started to collect by his side. There it is, the steady beating beneath his fingers, and Sehun sighs, gaze resting on the man's face. "What happened to you?" He, of course, receives no answer, but a loud wailing begins in the distance and Sehun stands, aware of how awful he looks with his hair matted to his head and his clothes stuck to his skin.
When the paramedics arrive, they recognize him in a second. It's a good thing, considering how much money he gives to this particular hospital every month just for these kind of things.
"Call back and let them know that we'll be using my room," Sehun orders as they bring the stretcher out of the back. He climbs inside, making himself at home in one of the cushioned seats. The paramedics join him in a second, and the unconscious man looks even worse under the fluorescent lighting.
Sehun looks away and tries to ignore the nervous stutter in his chest. He'll have this all figured out in the morning.
//
Because Sehun donates a pretty penny to this particular hospital each month, he knows that there will be no questions when these kinds of things happen. In addition, he's earned himself his own room on the top floor, away from any other patients. The only times he's ever had to use it was when Jongin messed up when they were still a pretty small group, and that was just a broken arm that they'd decided to stay overnight to monitor. Sehun's never seen an IV or heart monitor pushed into the corner, taking up the space where he, Jongin and Taemin had played cards that last time. It's a little unsettling.
The room is nice. There's a television and a couch in the front, a bathroom to the side, and a large window that overlooks the city. Sehun closes the curtains, tries to ignore the steady beeping of the monitor, but still he can't get to sleep. So he's sitting upright, waiting for Jongin to arrive with McDonald's for breakfast when the man moves.
His name is Kris. Wu Kris, and he's the right-hand man of the Park Corp., who reigns over most of the city. They're the closest thing Sehun could call a rival, even though he deals in pharmaceuticals and Park deals in firearms. The Parks have had control over the city for two generations, and Sehun's group has only recently blossomed into something more than a small smuggler. He knows that there's animosity between them, but he expected some spies among his workers, maybe small encroaches onto his territory, but nothing like this. In fact, he has no idea what this means.
A loud gasp draws Sehun's attention away from his thoughts and to the man on the bed, who is sitting up, eyes clenched shut. Sehun doesn't say anything, waiting for the man to make the first move.
"Where-" Kris mutters, voice scratchy. His eyes roam the room listlessly before the fall on Sehun, and then his expression twists in realization. "No, oh no." He pushes away his sheets, making to get out of the bed, but falls back, groaning and pressing a hand to his waist.
Sehun merely watches in mild alarm. "Don't move," he says unhelpfully, "they just stitched you up."
"That doesn't matter," the man insists, "you have to tell me-Chanyeol, is he okay?"
Now Sehun's confused. "Who?" He doesn't know anyone named Chanyeol. There's no one under him with that name, but there is- "Park? You mean Park?" Kris doesn't make any movement, so Sehun goes on. "How would I know if he was alright? I haven't seen him since the last town hall meeting."
Kris visibly relaxes, breathing a shaky breath of relief. "Oh thank god, he wasn't there." He lies back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and a hand over his wound. "Okay," he whispers. And then his eyes slide shut, and the monitor decreases in pitch. He's fallen back asleep.
Sehun leans back into the cushions on the couch, ruffled. Now he only has more questions, and it's not as if he can wake the man back up to ask them all. He'll just have to wait. He pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, upset by his circumstance. And he'd just organized all his shipments for the month. Everything was going so well.
He doesn't have time to mope, because Jongin arrives a few minutes later, knocking lightly twice before he opens the door slightly and walks in, bringing the wonderful scent of fried food with him. He tip toes past Kris and joins Sehun on the couch.
"Hey," he whispers, a little too loud as he takes two breakfast sandwiches out of the bag and hands one to Sehun, "has he woken up yet?"
Sehun nods, taking a big bite. "Just did." He decides to leave out everything the man had said. Jongin doesn't need to worry about that.
They eat in silence, eyes trained on the once more unconscious man. Sehun devours the sandwich in no time, as well as the hash brown, but when he reaches for the extra sandwich, Jongin slaps his hand away. "That one is for the patient. Be considerate."
Sehun rolls his eyes and leans back into the cushions. Jongin reaches for the remote, and the television flickers on, sound muted. Sehun pillows his head on Jongin's shoulder as his friend turns the channel to a sitcom, and Sehun's out.
//
The doctors discharge Kris around noon-they're slightly unwilling to do so, but Sehun convinces them-and Jongin drives them back to Sehun's home with Kris lying in the back seat, on his back so that he won't be jostled. Back at the hospital, Sehun and Jongin had a whispered argument about where to keep the man and, after a good few minutes of deliberation, decided that Sehun's place would be best. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, something like that.
Jongin practically leaves them at Sehun's front doorstep and then drives away, saying that he has things to do at work. Sehun doesn't even have time to tell him that he is the only work that Jongin has before the man is speeding away.
Kris hasn't said a word since he woke up that first time, and Sehun doesn't quite know what to make of that. He opens the door and invites the man inside with an open arm. His house has one guest bedroom, and that's where he leaves Kris after giving a brief introduction of the house.
Sehun's knows it's bad, that his mother would probably scold him for it, but his mother isn't here and he really doesn't want to spend any more time alone in a room with a man who is part of a rival organization and someone Sehun can't get a read on. So, he opens his garage and heads out to work.
Their operation is set up in an unassuming office building, with fifteen floors and a barber's shop on the first floor. It's a legitimate business-all the cosmetologists that work at Oh's Master Cuts have years of training and certifications under their belt-and it's actually quite popular. All the other fourteen floors are home to a less than savory business. Sehun didn't grow up knowing that he wanted to be a smuggler. Nineteen-year-old Sehun had no idea what he wanted to do, so he dropped out of college and joined a gang. It wasn't very fun, and the man in charge was far more concerned with diplomacy than with fighting, so Sehun was pretty bored with the whole thing. But then they'd made it big with the drug smuggling, and the old man had taken his share and gotten out of there, leaving Sehun in charge.
He'd worked closely with the man, and was known by all of their suppliers, so it wasn't hard to shift the control. What was hard, though, was getting rid of all the men who had worked underneath the previous head. Sehun had seen the jealousy, had heard the whispered plans, and he wasn't stupid. As soon as he could, he replaced every single one of them with more loyal, more knowledgeable individuals. Joonmyun, who had worked as an accountant but found himself without a job with the recent recession, Sunyoung with a background in criminology, Soojung who had practically grown up in the business, and Taemin, who could sweet talk everyone and their mother into a decision. But Jongin, he was an accident. Sehun and he had been friends in college, and the man was always up to go along for the ride, but he wanted more than anything to be a veterinarian, and Sehun didn't want him getting his hands dirty. But then there was the whole thing with Taemin and Sehun hadn't really had a choice. But, those are his top men. They all are at home on the top two floors. Everyone else, all of the people who aren't against getting their hands dirty and who Sehun calls to get the actual work done, have offices on the other floors. He runs a clean operation, and he's never had to touch the stuff himself. If not for the land disputes and bribery, this would all be smooth sailing.
The elevator doors slide open and Sehun steps out. Sunyoung is the only one there, sitting in one of the couches they'd placed in the area before the offices to form a makeshift lounge.
"Hey," she greets, looking up from her phone. "We didn't think we'd see you today. Did you already take care of everything?"
Sehun walks right past her. "Yes and no." He heads for his office, locking the thick maple door before him. He pulls back his leather chair and sits at his desk, propping his feet up on the glossy surface. He leans back, closes his eyes, and goes over the numbers, the workers, and the schedule in his head. He has everything in his desk if he's unsure, all the numbers written down in notebooks, disguised with a mix of letters and symbols so that no on else can read it. This is his routine. Once he's satisfied that nothing's off-track, and there's no messages on his phone, he covers his face with his hands.
What the fuck is he going to do about Kris?
He still doesn't know why the man was there, why he was left to die on the bridge in Sehun's side of the city. It's all very irritating, and he's angry that he's even caught up in all of this. He doesn't care much for the Parks, knows that there's something going on inside the ranks, but would rather just watch the giant fall than do anything to help or hinder the group.
There's a single knock on his door and Sehun groans. "Go away!"
This time, the knock is louder.
Grumbling, Sehun stands and makes his way over to the door, glaring at whoever is trying to disturb him. Soojung ducks around him and jumps onto his desk, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed. She motions for him to close the door and he hardens his glare, but does so. He slides into his chair, leaning against the window.
"So, what's the story? Sunyoung said that you seemed... pouty." She does her best impression of a pout that's supposed to resemble Sehun's, and the man scoffs.
"I'm not pouty. I just want this figured out as soon as possible. I don't want him on my hands-in my house-for any longer than necessary," he explains, gaze roaming around his office. He sighs. "But, in order to do that, I have to figure out the situation."
Soojung nods, encouraging him to go on.
Leaning his elbows on his knees, Sehun rolls closer, forehead pinched in thought. "He's Park's right-hand. I know none of my guys did it-if one had, I'd have heard-" Soojung raises a brow, but doesn't interrupt. "So, the only thing I can think of is that he was either abducted by another organization, or that it was an inside job. But, Soojung, neither of those make sense."
She nods slowly, and watches as Sehun lets his head fall in frustration. She leans forward and slowly begins combing her fingers through his hair. "You know I hate to see you stressed, but I'm afraid that there's only one person who can help you out." She pauses in her ministrations, laying her hands on either side of Sehun's face, making it so that he has to look at her. "Sehun, you're going to have to ask Kris."
//
He doesn't talk to Kris right away, nor the day after, and not even the day after that. In fact, he doesn't even see Kris for the next three days-the only sign that he's not alone in his home anymore is the one closed door. It's fine, because the bathroom that adjoins to the bedroom is fully equipped, the closets are filled with extra clothes, and the hospital had given them extra bandages to change with, and Kris can do that in his own. The only thing is that Sehun can barely cook for himself, let alone two people, and usually lives off microwaveable food and take out. So, he goes through his favorite Chinese, Italian, and American food take out menus, trying to guess what someone who deals in the illegal selling of firearms would like best.
It's on the fourth night, when he's pulling up the menu of the pizza place he likes the best that the door to the bedroom opens.
Kris is standing in the doorway, wearing the same clothes that Sehun found him in, and he looks peeved.
"What are you doing?"
Sehun holds up his laptop. "Ordering pizza."
Kris clenches his jaw and marches over. Oh, this is it. Sehun balls his fists and readies himself to jump up and attack the taller man if he has to-sure, Kris is larger physically, but if Sehun can aim a nice punch to the man’s injured gut, he’s won-but there's no need. Kris merely stands over him and slams his laptop shut.
"No. God no. No more junk." He looks around behind them, at the marble kitchen with an island, pots and pans hanging from the walls, and he frowns. "Don't you ever cook?"
Sehun doesn't even stop to think. "No."
Kris rolls his eyes, heading over to the kitchen muttering, "you goddamn kingpins always think you're too good for everything." He opens the fridge and balks. "You have so much food!"
Sehun nods, walking over and hopping up onto the counter. "I think it's Jongin and Taemin's idea of a joke. They keep track of all the dates, and whenever something goes bad they replace it. I don't think I've ever eaten anything..." He snaps his fingers. "Oh! One time they bought grapes. I ate those."
Kris shakes his head slowly, and then begins to pull things out of the fridge.
"What are you doing?"
"Making dinner," is the man's gruff reply, as he grabs a pot and turns on the stove. Sehun gets comfortable on the counter, asks Kris what he's doing every couple minutes and the man explains his actions very clearly. He's making spaghetti with sauce made from scratch. It smells nice-Sehun's anticipating good things.
It is good, and they eat it all in a matter of minutes. In fact, it's better than the Italian take-out he'd gotten the other night. When he says that, Kris rolls his eyes and says, of course mine is better.
Sehun decides that he likes Kris.
While the taller man is doing the dishes, movements slow and deliberate so as not to aggravate the healing wound, Sehun goes back to his seat on the counter and watches. He feels positively domestic. It's nice.
With all the plates and utensils put away, Kris stretches his arms over his head, grimacing. His shirt rides up a little, and pale skin peels out from under the torn hem of his shirt. Sehun averts his gaze.
"Ugh, I haven't moved in ages," Kris complains, wincing a little as a particular stretch pulls a little too hard at his side. He looks over at the clock and Sehun follows his gaze. It's almost midnight. "I should probably go to bed, huh?" The taller man says to himself.
"I'm not tired," Sehun chirps. "We can watch tv for a bit?"
Kris agrees almost too quickly, and they head over to the living room, taking seats on opposite sides of the sofa. Sehun settles on a late-night sitcom and watches Kris curl up on the couch out of the corner of his eye.
It's silent, and suddenly all of the questions from the past few days appear like a flurry in his mind. Sehun can't stand it anymore. He's a very impatient man, and he's had to wait much too long to get his answers. Kris is so close, all he needs to do is ask, but he stays silent and bounces his leg anxiously. The questions well up in him until he's about to explode, and finally he can't handle it anymore.
"Why were you there?" he asks, voice just a little too loud. "On the bridge."
Kris doesn't look at him, eyes trained on the screen, and for a moment Sehun wonders if he'll even get an answer. Then, he speaks. "You know, right? You know about the power struggle?"
Sehun shrugs. "I'd heard something about it."
Kris sighs. "Chanyeol inherited the organization from his father. He didn't really want it, he's not nearly as severe as his father, but he's been doing his best." The man turns, meeting Sehun's eyes. "Lately, some of the older members decided they wanted to expand. Go into human trafficking. Chanyeol is very against it. But, these men are ruthless, they've started going through the ranks, getting rid of anyone who's more loyal to Chanyeol. When they came to me, I told them I'd stand by Chanyeol until my death."
Sehun's unable to hold back a laugh. "I guess they took that literally."
Kris doesn't crack a smile. "I was going to do this by myself, but it would be much better if I had your help. We need to get Chanyeol out of there before they kill him, or before he tries to kill you."
Sehun’s frowns. He doesn’t like this. “Why would he do that?”
“Well, they left me on your turf, didn’t they?” Kris sounds agitated now. "I'm not getting back any time soon, and they've got enough to spark a war. They want you gone almost as much as they want Chanyeol gone."
"Ah, so I was framed," Sehun hums. "Then, as long as I keep out of their little tug of war, I'll be fine?"
Kris flinches. "What? No, that's not-"
"Look, Kris. I'm not about to stage a fucking recon mission to save your friend, okay? That's not how the world works, and I've already got enough to worry about, my own organization to run. As far as Park is concerned, if he can't get out on his own, he deserves whatever happens to him," it's brutal, but Sehun means every word. He's not here to look out for Park-or Kris, for that matter.
"But, you can't just-"
"I can and I will," Sehun cuts the man off. "I'm going to bed. Don't bother me."
( next)
Sehun only cares about his own, but Kris changes his mind. (Mob!au)
originally written for ohunlimited here
"Boss, we found something. You should come see."
Sehun checks his watch. It's well past midnight, so his driver went home hours ago. He'll have to drive himself. "Alright," he says, pushing back the heavy sheets and stepping out of bed. He wasn't anywhere close to falling asleep, anyway. "I'll be there in ten. Where are you?"
The man on the line says something quietly that Sehun can't quite make out and coughs. "We're on the bridge. The one that just got redone." Sehun hears a little bit of chatter. "Hey, do you think you could get here in less than that?"
Sehun grits his teeth. The streets will be mostly clear. He was giving himself time to throw some actual clothes on, but that can be easily forgotten. "Yeah. I'll be there." He hangs up before the other man can answer. He stretches his arms over his head, tilting his head to the side to work out the slight crick in his neck. These night calls are rare, prompted only by extreme circumstances, so he strides out of his bedroom, snagging the keys hanging by his nightstand as he goes. The last time he got a call was a couple months ago, and that was when a few pounds of goods went missing in the middle of the night. It wasn't hard to recover-Sehun can smell a rat from miles away and he'd been eyeing a certain man for a couple months beforehand. The matter was settled in mere hours. Sehun supposes this will be the same.
He yawns as he jogs down his stairs, walking past the kitchen to take the somewhat-hidden stairs to the garage. He doesn't even look at the Mustang, goes straight to the Hyundai. It's sleek, fast, and inconspicuous. The garage door opens with a creak and a slight shudder-he might have to get it looked at-and he tears out of the place, tires screeching on the road as he goes (he needs his cars to be inconspicuous because he himself is not). There's little to no traffic, it's such a late hour and most people traveling would just be residents of the area. He hopes there's no traffic on the bridge either, he hates doing damage control.
Luckily, it's pretty ugly out-rain sprinkling slightly through thick fog-and anyone out would probably be suicidal. Sehun smiles at that as he tears through empty streets, ignoring red lights and signs in favor of making it to the bridge in under five minutes. It's not particularly hard to find, a huge thing spanning over one of the larger rivers of the city, and once he turns onto it, the small crowd of cars parked by the sides tells him that something big happened.
Sehun parks behind a flashy Ferrari, locks his doors and makes his way over to the small crowd of raincoats by the railing. He's damp by the time he makes his way over, shivering slightly in his t-shirt and sweatpants combo, but he doesn't complain when he sees what the commotion is.
The crowd parts for him without Sehun having to ask, and there, on the ground in front of them, is a body.
Sehun looks around. Everyone seems somber, some with eyes that aren't even focused, and it's easy to see why. On the body lying on the ground, even through the grime and blood caked on the skin, a large scorpion tattoo is visible on a bare left bicep. It's no question who the man is. Anyone in the city would know him as soon as they saw it.
Finally, someone speaks up. "We would have never found him if Joonmyun hadn't taken a different way home. We don't usually have patrols going across this bridge," Jongin murmurs, obviously tired. But he's the one who made the call, so he'd had to stay.
Sehun looks around and spots the older man, huddled in a thick pea coat. "Good job," he says, and the man nods, gaze still on the body.
Sighing, Sehun takes the last few steps forward and kneels by the side of the fallen man. He hates this part. Whether it's one of his own, an unlucky civilian, or a member of a rival group, clean up is the absolute worst. It's a headache, what with the questions to dispel, paperwork to file, and the small chunk he has to take out of his personal account to cover the-Sehun stops, eyes narrowing. He scoots a little closer to the body and... there it is again. Sehun's hand flies forward, already covered in little droplets of water from the rain, and he presses two fingers firmly on the man's neck. His eyes widen. Fuck.
Sehun stands, swivels around in his casual tennis shoes to glare at the people surrounding him and the-very much alive-body. "You didn't even think to check if he was alive?"
There's no answer, only the soft sound of rain.
Soojung's the first to speak, eyes wide above her thick scarf. "He's alive?"
"He's definitely alive," Sehun snaps. Nobody moves. "Well, somebody go call a fucking ambulance!"
Jongin gives a shaky nod and pulls out his phone, taking a few steps away from the others to order an ambulance over. The shift in emotion is palpable, though. The earlier tension that had been thick enough to cut with a knife is no longer there, instead the few people there are huddled close together, a few smiling, sharing words of relief. Sehun doesn't join, just motions over Joonmyun and leans against the bridge railing.
"You found him?"
Joonmyun nods. "I was driving home, and I don't know why, but I thought I'd take a different way. It's weird. I don't know if it was because of the rain or because tomorrow's Tuesday and we're getting another shipment-"
"Joonmyun," Sehun says, voice cool. The man's rambling, something he does when stressed.
"Right, sorry. Well, I was driving over the bridge and I saw something. Well, I knew what it was but I didn't think... anyway, I got out of the car and then called Jongin, and then Jongin called-"
"Everyone," Sehun finishes, nodding to himself. Because that's what Jongin does. "Right. Go home, you've been here long enough. I'll take care of the rest."
Joonmyun nods gratefully and heads back to his car, exhaustion bleeding into his steps. Sehun frowns, the man’s been working too much. He should take another look at the schedule, see if he can move people around to give Joonmyun some down time.
"The ambulance is on the way!" Jongin shouts, and Sehun gives him a curt nod.
"I'll stay here, with him," he nods down towards the body. "You can all leave." The crowd gives a collective sigh and disperses, Soojung and Sunyoung heading back to their cars as Joonmyun drives past. Jongin, however, walks towards Sehun.
"Hey, are you sure you want to wait alone?"
Sehun nods. He's fine, no matter how much Jongin wants to fret over him. "Did Taemin come with you?" He tries to look around the man, trying to peek through the darkened window of the sports car, but it's impossible to see inside, what with the weather and the window tint.
Jongin nods. "Yeah, he didn't want to come out. He's not wearing a shirt," he whispers, small smile on his lips.
"Then, could you drive my car back home? It looks like I'm going to be heading to a hospital instead," he requests, keeping his eyes peeled for the emergency lights in the distance.
Jongin loses the smile. "Oh yeah, sure." He accepts the keys from Sehun and pats the man on the shoulder. "Call me in the morning?"
Sehun nods, patting his friend's back. "We'll figure out a plan then. Thanks for calling me," he says, doing his best to convey his sincerity. He's told that sometimes he can seem a little far-off, but he really is glad that Jongin reached him so quickly. His friend merely gives him a smile and a salute before he's heading back to his car to tell Taemin to follow him back to Sehun's place.
Sehun watches as all the cars drive off, leaving him alone on the bridge, prone body lying behind him. With nothing else to do but wait, he leans down on his haunches by the side of the man and frowns. He lets his fingers come back to rest on the man's neck, because it's a little hard to believe that he's alive, what with the dirt and cuts littering his body-not to mention the large red stain on the man's shirt and the blood that's started to collect by his side. There it is, the steady beating beneath his fingers, and Sehun sighs, gaze resting on the man's face. "What happened to you?" He, of course, receives no answer, but a loud wailing begins in the distance and Sehun stands, aware of how awful he looks with his hair matted to his head and his clothes stuck to his skin.
When the paramedics arrive, they recognize him in a second. It's a good thing, considering how much money he gives to this particular hospital every month just for these kind of things.
"Call back and let them know that we'll be using my room," Sehun orders as they bring the stretcher out of the back. He climbs inside, making himself at home in one of the cushioned seats. The paramedics join him in a second, and the unconscious man looks even worse under the fluorescent lighting.
Sehun looks away and tries to ignore the nervous stutter in his chest. He'll have this all figured out in the morning.
//
Because Sehun donates a pretty penny to this particular hospital each month, he knows that there will be no questions when these kinds of things happen. In addition, he's earned himself his own room on the top floor, away from any other patients. The only times he's ever had to use it was when Jongin messed up when they were still a pretty small group, and that was just a broken arm that they'd decided to stay overnight to monitor. Sehun's never seen an IV or heart monitor pushed into the corner, taking up the space where he, Jongin and Taemin had played cards that last time. It's a little unsettling.
The room is nice. There's a television and a couch in the front, a bathroom to the side, and a large window that overlooks the city. Sehun closes the curtains, tries to ignore the steady beeping of the monitor, but still he can't get to sleep. So he's sitting upright, waiting for Jongin to arrive with McDonald's for breakfast when the man moves.
His name is Kris. Wu Kris, and he's the right-hand man of the Park Corp., who reigns over most of the city. They're the closest thing Sehun could call a rival, even though he deals in pharmaceuticals and Park deals in firearms. The Parks have had control over the city for two generations, and Sehun's group has only recently blossomed into something more than a small smuggler. He knows that there's animosity between them, but he expected some spies among his workers, maybe small encroaches onto his territory, but nothing like this. In fact, he has no idea what this means.
A loud gasp draws Sehun's attention away from his thoughts and to the man on the bed, who is sitting up, eyes clenched shut. Sehun doesn't say anything, waiting for the man to make the first move.
"Where-" Kris mutters, voice scratchy. His eyes roam the room listlessly before the fall on Sehun, and then his expression twists in realization. "No, oh no." He pushes away his sheets, making to get out of the bed, but falls back, groaning and pressing a hand to his waist.
Sehun merely watches in mild alarm. "Don't move," he says unhelpfully, "they just stitched you up."
"That doesn't matter," the man insists, "you have to tell me-Chanyeol, is he okay?"
Now Sehun's confused. "Who?" He doesn't know anyone named Chanyeol. There's no one under him with that name, but there is- "Park? You mean Park?" Kris doesn't make any movement, so Sehun goes on. "How would I know if he was alright? I haven't seen him since the last town hall meeting."
Kris visibly relaxes, breathing a shaky breath of relief. "Oh thank god, he wasn't there." He lies back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and a hand over his wound. "Okay," he whispers. And then his eyes slide shut, and the monitor decreases in pitch. He's fallen back asleep.
Sehun leans back into the cushions on the couch, ruffled. Now he only has more questions, and it's not as if he can wake the man back up to ask them all. He'll just have to wait. He pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, upset by his circumstance. And he'd just organized all his shipments for the month. Everything was going so well.
He doesn't have time to mope, because Jongin arrives a few minutes later, knocking lightly twice before he opens the door slightly and walks in, bringing the wonderful scent of fried food with him. He tip toes past Kris and joins Sehun on the couch.
"Hey," he whispers, a little too loud as he takes two breakfast sandwiches out of the bag and hands one to Sehun, "has he woken up yet?"
Sehun nods, taking a big bite. "Just did." He decides to leave out everything the man had said. Jongin doesn't need to worry about that.
They eat in silence, eyes trained on the once more unconscious man. Sehun devours the sandwich in no time, as well as the hash brown, but when he reaches for the extra sandwich, Jongin slaps his hand away. "That one is for the patient. Be considerate."
Sehun rolls his eyes and leans back into the cushions. Jongin reaches for the remote, and the television flickers on, sound muted. Sehun pillows his head on Jongin's shoulder as his friend turns the channel to a sitcom, and Sehun's out.
//
The doctors discharge Kris around noon-they're slightly unwilling to do so, but Sehun convinces them-and Jongin drives them back to Sehun's home with Kris lying in the back seat, on his back so that he won't be jostled. Back at the hospital, Sehun and Jongin had a whispered argument about where to keep the man and, after a good few minutes of deliberation, decided that Sehun's place would be best. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, something like that.
Jongin practically leaves them at Sehun's front doorstep and then drives away, saying that he has things to do at work. Sehun doesn't even have time to tell him that he is the only work that Jongin has before the man is speeding away.
Kris hasn't said a word since he woke up that first time, and Sehun doesn't quite know what to make of that. He opens the door and invites the man inside with an open arm. His house has one guest bedroom, and that's where he leaves Kris after giving a brief introduction of the house.
Sehun's knows it's bad, that his mother would probably scold him for it, but his mother isn't here and he really doesn't want to spend any more time alone in a room with a man who is part of a rival organization and someone Sehun can't get a read on. So, he opens his garage and heads out to work.
Their operation is set up in an unassuming office building, with fifteen floors and a barber's shop on the first floor. It's a legitimate business-all the cosmetologists that work at Oh's Master Cuts have years of training and certifications under their belt-and it's actually quite popular. All the other fourteen floors are home to a less than savory business. Sehun didn't grow up knowing that he wanted to be a smuggler. Nineteen-year-old Sehun had no idea what he wanted to do, so he dropped out of college and joined a gang. It wasn't very fun, and the man in charge was far more concerned with diplomacy than with fighting, so Sehun was pretty bored with the whole thing. But then they'd made it big with the drug smuggling, and the old man had taken his share and gotten out of there, leaving Sehun in charge.
He'd worked closely with the man, and was known by all of their suppliers, so it wasn't hard to shift the control. What was hard, though, was getting rid of all the men who had worked underneath the previous head. Sehun had seen the jealousy, had heard the whispered plans, and he wasn't stupid. As soon as he could, he replaced every single one of them with more loyal, more knowledgeable individuals. Joonmyun, who had worked as an accountant but found himself without a job with the recent recession, Sunyoung with a background in criminology, Soojung who had practically grown up in the business, and Taemin, who could sweet talk everyone and their mother into a decision. But Jongin, he was an accident. Sehun and he had been friends in college, and the man was always up to go along for the ride, but he wanted more than anything to be a veterinarian, and Sehun didn't want him getting his hands dirty. But then there was the whole thing with Taemin and Sehun hadn't really had a choice. But, those are his top men. They all are at home on the top two floors. Everyone else, all of the people who aren't against getting their hands dirty and who Sehun calls to get the actual work done, have offices on the other floors. He runs a clean operation, and he's never had to touch the stuff himself. If not for the land disputes and bribery, this would all be smooth sailing.
The elevator doors slide open and Sehun steps out. Sunyoung is the only one there, sitting in one of the couches they'd placed in the area before the offices to form a makeshift lounge.
"Hey," she greets, looking up from her phone. "We didn't think we'd see you today. Did you already take care of everything?"
Sehun walks right past her. "Yes and no." He heads for his office, locking the thick maple door before him. He pulls back his leather chair and sits at his desk, propping his feet up on the glossy surface. He leans back, closes his eyes, and goes over the numbers, the workers, and the schedule in his head. He has everything in his desk if he's unsure, all the numbers written down in notebooks, disguised with a mix of letters and symbols so that no on else can read it. This is his routine. Once he's satisfied that nothing's off-track, and there's no messages on his phone, he covers his face with his hands.
What the fuck is he going to do about Kris?
He still doesn't know why the man was there, why he was left to die on the bridge in Sehun's side of the city. It's all very irritating, and he's angry that he's even caught up in all of this. He doesn't care much for the Parks, knows that there's something going on inside the ranks, but would rather just watch the giant fall than do anything to help or hinder the group.
There's a single knock on his door and Sehun groans. "Go away!"
This time, the knock is louder.
Grumbling, Sehun stands and makes his way over to the door, glaring at whoever is trying to disturb him. Soojung ducks around him and jumps onto his desk, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed. She motions for him to close the door and he hardens his glare, but does so. He slides into his chair, leaning against the window.
"So, what's the story? Sunyoung said that you seemed... pouty." She does her best impression of a pout that's supposed to resemble Sehun's, and the man scoffs.
"I'm not pouty. I just want this figured out as soon as possible. I don't want him on my hands-in my house-for any longer than necessary," he explains, gaze roaming around his office. He sighs. "But, in order to do that, I have to figure out the situation."
Soojung nods, encouraging him to go on.
Leaning his elbows on his knees, Sehun rolls closer, forehead pinched in thought. "He's Park's right-hand. I know none of my guys did it-if one had, I'd have heard-" Soojung raises a brow, but doesn't interrupt. "So, the only thing I can think of is that he was either abducted by another organization, or that it was an inside job. But, Soojung, neither of those make sense."
She nods slowly, and watches as Sehun lets his head fall in frustration. She leans forward and slowly begins combing her fingers through his hair. "You know I hate to see you stressed, but I'm afraid that there's only one person who can help you out." She pauses in her ministrations, laying her hands on either side of Sehun's face, making it so that he has to look at her. "Sehun, you're going to have to ask Kris."
//
He doesn't talk to Kris right away, nor the day after, and not even the day after that. In fact, he doesn't even see Kris for the next three days-the only sign that he's not alone in his home anymore is the one closed door. It's fine, because the bathroom that adjoins to the bedroom is fully equipped, the closets are filled with extra clothes, and the hospital had given them extra bandages to change with, and Kris can do that in his own. The only thing is that Sehun can barely cook for himself, let alone two people, and usually lives off microwaveable food and take out. So, he goes through his favorite Chinese, Italian, and American food take out menus, trying to guess what someone who deals in the illegal selling of firearms would like best.
It's on the fourth night, when he's pulling up the menu of the pizza place he likes the best that the door to the bedroom opens.
Kris is standing in the doorway, wearing the same clothes that Sehun found him in, and he looks peeved.
"What are you doing?"
Sehun holds up his laptop. "Ordering pizza."
Kris clenches his jaw and marches over. Oh, this is it. Sehun balls his fists and readies himself to jump up and attack the taller man if he has to-sure, Kris is larger physically, but if Sehun can aim a nice punch to the man’s injured gut, he’s won-but there's no need. Kris merely stands over him and slams his laptop shut.
"No. God no. No more junk." He looks around behind them, at the marble kitchen with an island, pots and pans hanging from the walls, and he frowns. "Don't you ever cook?"
Sehun doesn't even stop to think. "No."
Kris rolls his eyes, heading over to the kitchen muttering, "you goddamn kingpins always think you're too good for everything." He opens the fridge and balks. "You have so much food!"
Sehun nods, walking over and hopping up onto the counter. "I think it's Jongin and Taemin's idea of a joke. They keep track of all the dates, and whenever something goes bad they replace it. I don't think I've ever eaten anything..." He snaps his fingers. "Oh! One time they bought grapes. I ate those."
Kris shakes his head slowly, and then begins to pull things out of the fridge.
"What are you doing?"
"Making dinner," is the man's gruff reply, as he grabs a pot and turns on the stove. Sehun gets comfortable on the counter, asks Kris what he's doing every couple minutes and the man explains his actions very clearly. He's making spaghetti with sauce made from scratch. It smells nice-Sehun's anticipating good things.
It is good, and they eat it all in a matter of minutes. In fact, it's better than the Italian take-out he'd gotten the other night. When he says that, Kris rolls his eyes and says, of course mine is better.
Sehun decides that he likes Kris.
While the taller man is doing the dishes, movements slow and deliberate so as not to aggravate the healing wound, Sehun goes back to his seat on the counter and watches. He feels positively domestic. It's nice.
With all the plates and utensils put away, Kris stretches his arms over his head, grimacing. His shirt rides up a little, and pale skin peels out from under the torn hem of his shirt. Sehun averts his gaze.
"Ugh, I haven't moved in ages," Kris complains, wincing a little as a particular stretch pulls a little too hard at his side. He looks over at the clock and Sehun follows his gaze. It's almost midnight. "I should probably go to bed, huh?" The taller man says to himself.
"I'm not tired," Sehun chirps. "We can watch tv for a bit?"
Kris agrees almost too quickly, and they head over to the living room, taking seats on opposite sides of the sofa. Sehun settles on a late-night sitcom and watches Kris curl up on the couch out of the corner of his eye.
It's silent, and suddenly all of the questions from the past few days appear like a flurry in his mind. Sehun can't stand it anymore. He's a very impatient man, and he's had to wait much too long to get his answers. Kris is so close, all he needs to do is ask, but he stays silent and bounces his leg anxiously. The questions well up in him until he's about to explode, and finally he can't handle it anymore.
"Why were you there?" he asks, voice just a little too loud. "On the bridge."
Kris doesn't look at him, eyes trained on the screen, and for a moment Sehun wonders if he'll even get an answer. Then, he speaks. "You know, right? You know about the power struggle?"
Sehun shrugs. "I'd heard something about it."
Kris sighs. "Chanyeol inherited the organization from his father. He didn't really want it, he's not nearly as severe as his father, but he's been doing his best." The man turns, meeting Sehun's eyes. "Lately, some of the older members decided they wanted to expand. Go into human trafficking. Chanyeol is very against it. But, these men are ruthless, they've started going through the ranks, getting rid of anyone who's more loyal to Chanyeol. When they came to me, I told them I'd stand by Chanyeol until my death."
Sehun's unable to hold back a laugh. "I guess they took that literally."
Kris doesn't crack a smile. "I was going to do this by myself, but it would be much better if I had your help. We need to get Chanyeol out of there before they kill him, or before he tries to kill you."
Sehun’s frowns. He doesn’t like this. “Why would he do that?”
“Well, they left me on your turf, didn’t they?” Kris sounds agitated now. "I'm not getting back any time soon, and they've got enough to spark a war. They want you gone almost as much as they want Chanyeol gone."
"Ah, so I was framed," Sehun hums. "Then, as long as I keep out of their little tug of war, I'll be fine?"
Kris flinches. "What? No, that's not-"
"Look, Kris. I'm not about to stage a fucking recon mission to save your friend, okay? That's not how the world works, and I've already got enough to worry about, my own organization to run. As far as Park is concerned, if he can't get out on his own, he deserves whatever happens to him," it's brutal, but Sehun means every word. He's not here to look out for Park-or Kris, for that matter.
"But, you can't just-"
"I can and I will," Sehun cuts the man off. "I'm going to bed. Don't bother me."
( next)