Chapter Text
There was no singing choir. No angels or opened gates of hell or whatever because Chan woke up, and even his slow, drowsy brain knew that stained wall.
He breathed in and out, blinking up at the ceiling. The sights were familiar. The sheet under his touch was familiar. Yeah, definitely his room.
The sounds weren’t familiar, though. There were still the sounds of a city too busy to care, but he swore he could hear faint voices outside. More than one. Oh, and there was a scented candle that smelled like lemons.
He shifted, grunting as the pain instantly shot up, and stopped, propped by his elbows. He looked down, and though he was fully clothed in clean clothes, he could feel the bandages underneath. Huh. So he really was shot.
Funny, he thought he would be done for. At least he wasn’t caught and Seokmin--
Seokmin!
His limbs felt so sore, but he pushed the blanket off, rushing off the bed. Seokmin, what happened to--
Of course, he failed miserably, going down with a plop and only barely held back by him grabbing onto the sheets.
The door creaked open. It was a familiar face, alright. That soft smile and gentle, doe eyes. But not Seokmin.
“Shua?”
“You’re awake.” He smiled, his eyes lit. He helped Chan up, sitting back on the bed, and Chan was kinda impressed by the amount of strength he had. They hadn’t teamed up for a while and what the hell was he doing in his house? “Thank goodness.”
“Shua,” he croaked. His mouth was parched. “What--where’s my brother?”
“He’s--”
“Channie!”
Joshua pulled aside, and just the face he wanted to see stared right back at him. Seokmin’s eyes were bloodshot, more tired-looking than he had ever been. Tear streaks on his cheek, disheveled and messy as always.
A sight for sore eyes.
He smiled. “Minnie--”
“You-you brat!” He scowled, face red but his lips wobbled. Chan gripped his arms gently, chuckling, and he dropped the act, wailing, attacking head-first with a big hug. “Don’t do that again!” His shoulder was shoved, but Seokmin’s hold did not waver. Instead, it tightened and Chan complied with a light, hearty laugh.
He was alive. And Seokmin was fine.
At the corner of his eyes, another figure hovered at the door but did not step in. It was Seungcheol, who exchanged looks with Joshua, and gave a big, gummy smile when he met Chan’s eyes.
“Coups?”
Seokmin let him go from the embrace but didn’t stay far. Their thighs pressed together, Seokmin wrapped one arm over his shoulder, leaning their heads together. They wouldn’t leave each other, after all.
“Hey, kid,” he greeted. “Glad to see you’re awake.”
“Uh, thanks.” He cleared his throat. Joshua stood up and went off to fetch a glass of water. “What are you two...why are you in my home?” He glanced at his sniffling brother. “What happened?”
“I came home without you, and I thought you got lost!” He cried, gesturing to the leader of their little crew. “Then some guys came in with your body and there’s blood all over, and told me you got shot.”
“I’m not dead, Minnie.”
“You could’ve been! You didn’t wake up for a whole day.”
Seungcheol nodded, lips pursed.
“We were on the mission and you got shot. You didn’t respond to Woozi, but luckily…” his eyes flitted to Seokmin, who frowned. “Angel found you and we did what we could to sustain the wounds, but we decided to bring you here.”
“What mission?” Seokmin asked. His eyes narrowed. “Who shot Chan, and who are you?”
Chan felt the guilt in his stomach again. He met eyes with Cheol, who pressed his lips into a grim, thin line. Right. Seokmin never knew the truth.
Just then, Joshua came back in, holding out the glass of water. He seemed oblivious to the tension in the room, or he just did not care, happily coming right to him. But his brother took it instead, sniffing into the plain water and scrutinizing it.
“Minnie, they’re not going to poison me--”
Seokmin’s withering glare snapped his mouth shut. He rarely ever was seriously angry, having the patience of an angel--but Chan didn’t want to try and see what could be.
He obediently drank the water, while Seokmin sought out all the answers, still shrouded in suspicion. Chan didn’t blame him. What kind of people came to his home with his brother bleeding and injured?
“Alright.” Cheol sighed. “You already know our names. I’m Coups, and that’s Shua.” The latter did a little wave. “We have our own professions, but we’re also part of this...crew.”
“Crew?”
“Like a hitmen gang,” he said. “We call ourselves Seventeen, and--” his eyes captured Chan’s as if asking for permission and Chan could only nod, jaw clenched, the water doing nothing to quench his thirst. “Chan here...he’s one of us.”
The grip at his shoulder tightened. Chan held his breath. He could see his brother’s throat bobbing, eyes shaking and fluttering close in a shudder before their gazes meet. And still, there was always, always that kindness in his eyes.
“Is this true, Channie?” he asked. “Are you part of a gang?”
His hand grasped at his arm, and he nodded. Once, Twice. He couldn’t look away. “I am.”
He tried not to feel the slight tinge of heartache as Seokmin’s hold loosened, ever so slightly. But his eyes didn’t waver, didn’t change, He only sighed.
“And the last mission for the gang got you shot?”
“I was supposed to just shoot air, make some people panic.” He explained, unconsciously holding onto his wound. It hurt, but not like before. Not like the time he hobbled over all the way to the lift. “I-I don’t kill people, Minnie! I swear.”
He wasn’t a killer--not yet. He wasn’t ready for that yet. But he was a bystander, and he had seen the others kill. Seen blood getting shed and had done nothing but look away.
“It’s Mr. Shin--our client. It’s his people that shot you.” Shua began talking, slowly and gently, so as to not douse Seokmin any further. “Angel recognized one of them. Woozi and Won confirmed it.”
“Our client?”
“It’s a ploy.” Seungcheol nodded, rubbing his hands over his face. “He made us create a mess on purpose and sent his own people to stop or capture us. Probably part of his political play. His aim was to be in Professor Park’s favor and get his hand on the AI.”
So Wonwoo was right. It was suspicious, but the reward was too good to refuse.
“Ugh,” Seokmin muttered, cringing. “I don’t understand these politicians.”
He would get along great with Soonyoung.
“It’s alright. We’re coming up with something to get back on Mr. Shin.” Shua smiled, his hands clasped together. His words did not match his pretty face or his mannerisms. “The Geminis were onto something.”
“They’re always onto something.” He rolled his eyes.
He looked back at his older brother, who was silent as he processed all the information down. Chan gave him credit--he was fairly calm for someone who was revealed his only sibling was part of some illegal group--called Seventeen, no less--and got hurt while on the job.
It was a silent, tense minute until Seokmin scooted around and put his hands on Chan’s face.
Suddenly they were back to that night when the younger one woke up in a sweat of nightmares and his lovely, sweet Seokmin was there by his side. “Channie…” His voice was soft and mellow. “Why did you join a gang?”
“I wanted the cash.” He looked down to the former’s shirt, an old thing that was worn for a very long time. Its illustration was rubbed off completely, smudged with types of inks and stains and dirt. “I wanted to help you pay the bills.”
“Channie, you don’t have to do that. I’ll pay the bills, you just study--”
“I can’t stand it.” He winced. “Minnie, you go out early and come home late every night. You work three whole shifts, and your bosses underpay you and your customers are assholes.” He sniffed, his eyes watering. “I...I want to do something to help you. I want to let you rest.”
The look in his eyes softened. His honey voice cracked. “Oh, Channie…”
“I don’t want you to bear it all alone, Minnie.” He choked on a sob. “I miss you.”
“I know.” His fingers yet again brushed Chan’s tears away. “I understand, Channie. You’re such a sweet brother. I just hope you do...less dangerous things.”
They had a moment of staying in each other’s comfort, hugging again before there was a clear of the throat. They didn’t break off this time, but Chan did look up to Seungcheol, who began wringing his hands.
“I think I can help out with your jobs...Mr. Lee.”
“Just call me Seokmin.”
“Seokmin,” Joshua said, rolling the name on his American-accent tongue. Chan swore that his brother scoffed under his breath. “Some of us in the gang are successful people. And a lot of us have connections. We just...don’t like to involve that life with our...crew.”
“But if you and Chan allow it, we can try to make an exception and help you get better jobs if you want.”
Chan gasped. All of them did not like to mix the two lives together--except for Jeonghan, and some others who only had the crew as their life. They each had a reason to join, and for Chan, it was both loneliness and money. He never wanted to get involved further for the safety of his brother. But if Seokmin said yes, then...
“Angel’s dad is a CEO of a cosmetic company, Angel himself is a model. Gyu has a fashion studio,” Seungcheol listed, leaving off a few members Chan were most curious about. Whose identities were more clouded. “And Woozi’s working onto being a music producer.”
“O-oh.” Seokmin flushed. “I didn’t go to college. And I work part-time as waiters and retail. I don’t think I could manage those kinds of jobs--”
“But your face fits so well in modeling,” Joshua said, in a matter-of-fact tone that made Seokmin flush further. Wasn’t Joshua, Jeonghan, and Seongcheol in some weird flirtationship? What the hell? “You’re a hardworking person, Seokmin. I’m sure we could arrange something.”
The other contemplated, actually seeming convinced. Chan’s stomach flipped. Was this really happening? Chan’s two worlds, one in the light and one in the grey, merging into one?
“Alright.” He decided. ‘But you must leave Chan alone until after he’s fully healed. He’s free to decide to still join you or not--he’s an adult. I just don’t want him to get hurt.”
Chan beamed at him, hugging him tight again until the discomfort of his wound made him yelp and they shifted their positions. Joshua seemed amused by their interaction, speaking up. “Don’t worry, he’s like our own baby,” he said as if that was some form of reassurance. If anything, it just made Chan pout in protest. “We can even wait until his term is over.”
“That reminds me.” He stole a look at the youngest. “Your friend Vernon called and asked about the project.”
Oh, right.
Luckily for him, Vernon turned out to be a very chill dude. He bought the excuse that Chan was injured--which wasn’t a lie--and didn’t ask more. Chan liked him. Maybe they could be friends.
They talked and talked and exchanged numbers. Seokmin’s number was added to a whole group they just created, with half of the members in it--the ones who had connections and jobs. It always made him snicker when he saw everyone hold back on their frugal languages to be polite. Even Jihoon.
In the calmness of his room, a blanket shared to combat the cool night air, the noises of the city just as loud as it always was, he wondered.
He didn’t know whether he should be happy or not with this change of fate. Seokmin knew about his secret and was open to potential danger in the worst-case scenario, but he may never have to work in shitty jobs again.
“Don’t worry, Chan,” he reassured that night, huddling in one bed together even though their legs were dangling down and one of them would probably fall on the ground soon in their sleep.
Chan didn’t mind. He hadn’t had Seokmin so close to him for so long.
“As long as I know you’re fine.”
***
TIGER!1!
What was that ai boy’s name again?
Yongpal?
Woozi
Where the fuck did you get that from
It’s The Eighth
TIGER!1!
Yeah him
Let’s get him
That’ll teach Shin a lesson
Woozi
Hoshi wtf
Moonjun 🌙
I’m in!!!
Let’s do it!!
Woozi
Don’t encourage him
TIGER!1!
YAHA!!!!11!
Bag of Luck
🍿