fuck you
two
“Give me your wallet.” The man states and underneath the grime and the blood caked on his lips (too full lips) Yunho can tell that this man was hauntingly beautiful.
He had parked the car arbitrarily at an inane angle caused by the abrupt instructions barked at him by the beautiful man with a gun to his head, sitting shotgun. They had managed to get rid of the police cars pursuing them and had stopped to catch their breaths.
Yunho’s motor skills was a tenth of a second slower than his brain because when he could’ve easily wrestled the gun out from his incarcerator’s hand, he was stuck staring at the man in utter awe. There has to be some sort of glitch in his neuronal pathways because they were clearly not firing right. Death at the hands of this man felt like such a poetic way to die (and really, was his life that exceptional he'd want to continue living anyways?)
“Give me your wallet.” The beautiful man bites out, pressing the cold muzzle of the gun to his temple, a brutal reminder of the situation he was in. The imagery of his brain matter splattering across the dashboard had him opening his mouth by default.
“Okay, okay. Take it easy.” Yunho says, the strength in his voice belying his shaky movements as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fat one.
Yunho watches as a Cheshire grin spreads across the man’s face and he instantly snatches it, letting out a hoot of laughter. The muzzle of the gun is no longer pressed against his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and Yunho lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The man opens up the wallet and nearly salivates, counting all the many bills tucked away.
Yunho isn’t very sure what he’s doing, as he stares at the man steadily unbeknownst to the other. His eyes begin to trace over the soft contours of the man's face, from the crinkles of his eyes to the length of his nose and the smooth curve of his lips. His disarrayed black hair is matted on his forehead from sweat and the ends tickle his shoulder.
The man finally finishes counting, holding an expression as if he had just won the lottery, which, in a sense he has. If stealing a few thousand dollars by means of potential violence counts as such.
The man says nothing as he opens the door to Yunho's car and steps out, slamming the door shut behind him. Yunho doesn't understand why he has half a mind to run after the man. He does nothing though as he watches him turn the corner and out of sight.
"Hey shit head, get up!" Jaejoong yells, banging Yoochun's door with his fists. He hears a muffled groan and some rustling but then there was silence. Jaejoong continues to pound on the door until finally, the door whips open and he is dragged roughly inside by the collar. Yoochun lets go of him and slams the door shut.
It smells like weed, cigarettes, and alcohol, three of Jaejoong's favourite things and he takes a long, deep breath in. He was in a good mood. Not only wasn't he behind bars, but he had actually got back more money from what he had originally stolen from the convenience store.
Yoochun jumps back onto the couch where he proceeds to take a drag out of his cigarette, watching this stupid sitcom on his tiny television set. Jaejoong joins him, propping his feet up on the coffee table, relishing in the sharp pain he felt from his cut knees, and reaches his hand out to swipe the half-used cigarette from between Yoochun's lips. His friend doesn't protest, staring dully at the screen with his right hand cradling his head, and his mouth marginally ajar from where the cigarettes had rested.
Sucking in a lungful of smoke, Jaejoong holds it in for a few seconds before slowly letting wisps of the carcinogen flow through his mouth. Jaejoong hands the stick of cancer back to Yoochun, who silently takes it, inhaling another drag himself.
The recorded laughter from the sitcom reverberates throughout the tiny apartment, filling the room with a pungent smell of falsehood. Jaejoong reaches into his pocket and chucks the wallet full of cash onto the coffee table below Yoochun's line of vision.
Yoochun's eyes flick downwards towards the wallet and his hand stills over the cigarette. He turns his head to look at Jaejoong incredulously and Jaejoong gives him a smug smile as if it was a sin to ever doubt his abilities.
"What the fuck is that?"
"Money, what else does it look like?"
"Yeah and how'd you get that much money from robbing a convenience store?"
"I didn't, I hijacked some dude's car and took his wallet. Turns out he's fucking stacked."
Yoochun reaches over to grab the wallet, cigarette balanced precariously between his lips, and cards through several bills, coming up to a grand total of 3,273,030 won.
"Fucking hell." Yoochun sighs, grinning around the cigarette. He leans back on the sofa, curious to know who the owner of the wallet was to have kept such a large sum of money as if it were pocket money. He extracts a worn down photo from the back of the wallet and brings it closer for inspection.
There was a woman sitting on a chair with a big smile on her face. There was also this boy who had an equal magnitude of a grin, one arm wrapped lazily over the woman's shoulder. It was dated 13 years ago.
He chucks the photo somewhere, doesn't really care. Yoochun finds several cards, like a driver's license and health card inside. He doesn't bother with the credit cards because by now the man must've cancelled them. Instead, he takes out the health card and reads the information written on it out loud.
"The guy's name is Jung Yunho and he was born in 1986, is 184cm tall, and weighs 66kg."
Jaejoong nods, not really paying attention to the noise coming out of Yoochun's mouth. He's exhausted from today and wants nothing more than to down a couple of glasses of alcohol and sleep.
So he gets up with a low groan, sauntering over to the kitchen with slow and steady steps. He opens up the refrigerator and grabs two bottles of beer for the two of them, tossing Yoochun his as he returns to the four by four room they call a living room.
Jaejoong's eyebrows twitch in annoyance as there was another round of that robotic laughter filtering out of the television. He grabs the remote control and switches the channel over to an arbitrary news station. The anchorwoman has on a stoic expression, reciting the words on the teleprompter with her monotonous voice but the sound was a lot nicer on the ear than boisterous laughter.
Jaejoong tips the bottle back and feels the warmth flow through his esophagus and into his empty stomach. He could practically feel the muscles in his stomach squeezing in on itself as it tries to absorb the alcohol. Jaejoong doesn't eat much. Usually the two of them would come up with only enough money to buy a loaf of bread and a little something else or 20 ounces of weed. There really was no competition, the latter was the definite choice.
He's staring dully outside the window at the darkening sky and thinks that his insides are probably the same colour.
"Yo, look." Yoochun nudges him and points at the television screen. He follows Yoochun's finger and his jaw drops as the man he had just robbed was on television. There were tabloid pictures of him and the anchorwoman, now with a little emotion behind her voice, explains how Jung Yunho is now the new CEO of Jung Cosmetics Enterprises.
Yoochun twists his head to stare at Jaejoong in a mixture of shock and amusement. "You just robbed the filthy rich CEO of Jung Cosmetics."
"…Yeah. I did." Jaejoong stares blankly at the television screen as more paparazzi photos of Jung Yunho are exposed. He'll never make the mistake of coming into contact with this Jung Yunho again. It was a miracle the guy hadn't called the cops on him this time. If he is anywhere near the vicinity of Jung Yunho, he's almost certain the man will not hesitate to incarcerate him. 'Jung Yunho, would it have been better if I had killed you?'
"You were robbed?" His father bellows, the sound hits his tympanum in painfully high frequencies. Yunho nods slowly, regretting having told his father. His father looks at him in that way again that makes Yunho want to jump in front of a train. Thick shame washes over him and when the tide recedes it shreds his skin.
"Yeah."
"And you sat there with your tail between your legs?"
"He had a gun."
"Did all rationality leave your head that you couldn't have called the police?"
Yunho says nothing. That was the case, his father hit a bullseye. All his rationality had since dissipated once he laid eyes on that beautiful man.
His father scoffs at the soundless words that float from his mouth into a large cloud of trepidation, and shakes his head. "How do you think you can manage my company if you can't even manage yourself?"
The ridicule he feels from being scolded by his father like he was merely a child silences his tongue. His eyes are downcast and there's a timid wave of anger that ripples through him. If he wasn't as cowardly as he was when against his father, maybe the wave could've escalated to a tsunami.
His father seemed to have enough of his presence anyways because the brute man wordlessly strides out of the room and slams the door shut behind him, causing the pendent lamps to shake.
Yunho deflates then, falling backwards onto the leather couch and swings an arm over his face, covering his eyes. Behind his eyelids he sees images of the hijacker, cold eyes and bared teeth.
Involuntarily a shiver runs along his spine and his lips crack open to a small smile. Yes, he was short a few thousand dollars and yes, he could nearly have been killed by the man, but Yunho wanted nothing more than to see him again. 'I need to find him somehow...'