Chapter Text
Seokmin dashed out of his room like a living storm, his hair disheveled, his eyes tired. It was a common occurrence to see him rush every morning. He wasn’t late, his shift was just very early.
“Morning,” Chan greeted. Amidst that state of hurry, his brother still managed a smile, hand reaching to tousle his hair. He puffed his cheeks in protest but let it be. “I made you coffee.”
“Aw, thanks, Channie.” He grinned. Even the bare hints of dawn outside couldn’t stop him from being all sunny and bright. It contrasted so much against the dark marks under his eyes.
He took a sip off the mug, taking his time to hum appreciatively, even as his phone started to ring. Chan was hit with a swelling in his chest. “Mmm, tastes good!”
“Yeah, yeah.” He pursed his lips, drawing his legs up to his chest, watching him so earnestly trying to finish the drink. His fingers itched to take the mug away and push him out the door already, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. “Minnie, it’s okay. You don’t have to drink it all, you’ll be late.”
Seokmin ignored him, waving him off while his ringtone blared. He really did finish it off.
“I’ll be back late, alright? You can order takeaway for dinner.” He pulled Chan in for a quick side hug, then grabbed his coat and hastened out the door. “Love you!”
His footsteps receded, fading gradually until it was clear that Chan was alone. Faint noises of the city--honking cars and whirring machines--filled in the silence, but after the hectic morning, it seemed so much lonelier than it was. “Sure,” he sighed, sinking into the couch, looking up to the creaky ceiling fan.
The apartment was old and small but he couldn’t imagine not waking up to the sounds of the neighbors arguing, or the stains of the walls in his room that had been there from the start.
He didn’t have an issue with this living, honest, but it was hard to not notice the mess. If he looked over to their door, he would’ve known his brother had accidentally taken his shoes.
Right. Speaking of…
He took his phone from between the corners of the couch, instantly greeted with bubbles of notification from the conversation he left in the middle of. There was another one, something about their group project on Friday night, but that wasn’t the one he meant.
Bag of Luck
That doesn’t make any sense
Wouldn’t it be better to get rid of the guy
in secret instead of in a public event?
Mr. Camel
He doesn’t want us to get rid of anyone
Just wants us to stir some shit up
Angel
Aww but murder :((
TIGER!1!
Uuggh i don’t understand these politicians (¬_¬ )
Woozi
You don’t understand anything
TIGER!1!
I didn’t wake up to get aTtackEdd 😤
Mr. Camel
At least he’s offering a fortune
A good 80,000 dollars at least
Eighty thousand dollars, maybe more. He pursed his lips, rubbing at his neck.
His assignment papers were strewn on the floor beside a neat pile of folded laundry, some subject he didn’t even give a shit about. Red inks scribbled on his works, pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes one by one. His ability to pass flying further with every line.
Eight thousand dollars. That was enough to pay off their rent for a month or two.
Bag of Luck
Idk still seem suspicious
Dino
I’m in
It wasn’t his first time, but his gut started to rile every time. He took a deep breath in, putting the phone up as if to shield from other’s eyes, tucking his elbows in.
Mr. Camel
Are u sure, dino?
It’s on Friday night
Josshhh
How about ur studies?
He ran his eyes over the papers again, then at the mug left behind. Everything was scattered in one place. No table. No coasters to even stop the stained ring it would form. He wondered if it was some bad metaphor life was trying to give him. He nodded to himself, shuddering a breath. Shaky fingers typed out the words and hit send. ”If there was a way to help, this is it.”
Dino
Yea
I’ll do it
***
The lights from the crystal-adorned chandelier bounced off of the wine glass in his hands, making for a nice little twinkle of light against the sloshing red-purple liquid inside.
Chan sniffed into the wine, the rich sweetly sour scent proof of the alcohol’s quality and taste. His nose crinkled. This shit must be expensive.
He looked around at the stained-glass windows, gold, silver, and red tints in geometric abstraction. It granted the hall a slight tinge of colors than just the beige walls with ivory seams.
To him, being within these walls was akin to being in a time loop, a realm of the Other. The clean, polished quality of the floor itself was so perfect, it seemed unreal and inhumane. So detached from the outside world.
He downed the wine down in one gulp. It hardly did anything to the bile in his throat.
“One of Domaine Leroy’s.” Jeonghan’s voice interrupted him from his thoughts. Chan thought he did extremely well in blending in with the crowd. Wearing a dress shirt with his long red hair slicked back to show the full qualities of his pretty face, he was ethereal and elegant and absolutely expensive. “You don’t get this every day.”
He didn’t know how Jeonghan would have this type of knowledge, but he learned to not question the guy eons ago. Who knew what other information he stored behind that innocent, angelic smile.
“It probably costs thousands.”
He chuckled. “More than ten-thousands.”
Chan winced. His fingers felt so dirty against the nice, shiny, empty glass.
“Aw, Dino~” he patted his back gently, eyes soft. Chan puffed his cheeks, “It’s alright. If we get this done, we get a little close to that amount.” Right. “But divided by 9.”
Their business of 9 people could hardly be categorized. It was in a grey area, not quite tucked in the dark but still hidden from the Sun. Not quite a crime, but could hardly be seen as legal.
Whatever, he decided, watching Jeonghan break off to act all friendly with a random group of men. Dirty money is still money .
Chan grew up seeing his brother’s back slowly bent over as he came home from his three jobs every night. He wouldn’t be here if he knew a time when Seokmin could rest.
“Dino,” Woozi’s voice crackled near his ears, a small mechanism attached to the temples of his eyeglass. “I’ve disabled the CCTV of the west-wing lift and the upper hall. You can get on now.”
He nodded, muttering a little thanks.
That meant Jeonghan had already set up the mild firecrackers as well.
Chan straightened his back and kept a not-quite-a-smile on his face, making sure his strides were sure but not quick. He gave curt nods to the people he passed by, hiding his sweaty, clammy hands in the depths of his pocket and clasped to the fabric of this borrowed suit from Mingyu.
He was lucky that the mission was only to cause some chaos. If it was their usual brand of jobs, he would’ve been paler, sweatier, would watch with a held-down tongue behind gritted teeth as one of Jun’s sharpshooting bullets pierce through their targets.
He was already skipping out on a group project meeting with some guy named Vernon, he didn’t need the additional weight.
The lift’s doors took some time to open when he pressed on the bedazzled button. The thing was probably heavy--it looked like it. And when he got on, he wasn’t alone. A blue-eyed man came in, holding the door back from closing with one hand before letting his perfume waft so strongly Chan’s throat felt stifled. He almost sniffed.
Now, Chan might be doing this illegal thing, but he was still very much a young adult. And he prayed--licking the insides of his teeth--that this gentleman would not try to stir a conversation with him.
“Pardon me, sir.” Oh, hell, no. “But I must say you look very young and comely.”
He peeked a glance at the sides of the wall where it was mirrored. To this guy, he must’ve looked like a child, the suit just a little bit big to be a perfect fit. Face so smooth that one would barely know he had facial hair at all.
He stretched his lips into a smile. “Thank you, you too.” No, the guy did not look young.
“From what company are you?” he asked, sharp blue eyes roaming over him for some reason. Great, he’s a talker and nosy too. “It’s a miracle that they sent a youth into such a sophisticated, high-class event. Not just anyone could see the reveal of Professor Park’s 8th invention.”
For all his nagging and emotional outbursts, Seungkwan certainly had enough connections to score the invitation.
Chan ignored whatever jab the man was trying to go for, wondering why the fuck was the lift moving so slow, and oh--they were both going to the highest floor? “It’s a fairly new company. I--ah, the CEO thought it would be a good learning experience for me to see the works of business galas firsthand.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He suppressed a cringe, mentally screaming at both Seungkwan and Joshua for coming up with this name. “Specialized Videotape Technology inc.”
If the man knew how fake it was, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded, hand fixing his collar. “Fascinating.”
The elevator finally, finally arrived and he let out a quiet huff of relief. He didn’t need to know where the other would go, just as long as he wasn’t followed. If Wonwoo’s building plans were right--and he was seldom wrong, he was only dumb with his dad jokes--there would be a tucked corner somewhere in the space of the balcony.
He felt deeper in his left pocket, where an unloaded, smallest of guns weighed it down. How fitting, because his heart was thumping and starting to feel the weight of the situation at hand.
He didn’t miss the glint in Soonyoung’s eyes when he chose the gun made for dry-firing, but the older one only hugged him from behind and praised his choice. Their mission was to create havoc, not kill--he swallowed. And he didn’t want to have to kill.
Eventually, he did find the corner they planned, and he looked around for another presence. The ear-ins sounded a little static and choppy, probably from the elevation, but he didn’t hear anything more.
He crouched down and crawled into the space, one hand already putting on a black glove.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming!” Oh, it started. “I’m honored that you’d come to the reveal of my 8th newest invention. As you know, I create these technologies for the better of humanity. We create better worlds with our hard work, so as to prosper the human society.”
Chan knew what his words meant, but none of that made any sense.
He scoffed to himself. A better society, his ass. All these inventions cost millions and were only owned by the upper-class elites anyway. His apartment didn’t even have proper heating for winter.
“An AI with perfect human speech, understanding, and ability. Most fitting with sophisticated taste, artistic sense, exquisite and honest intelligence. I present to you, ladies and gentlemen--”
Jeonghan wasn’t making it obvious, but his head did a little tilt. Jihoon’s voice came in broken orders. “Be ready, Dino.”
He nodded, getting on his elbows and knees, taking his aim. He gripped it tight, level and steady as to stop the trembling.
The curtain fell back to show a human-shaped thing. It looked so real, boasting fair skin and grey mullet hair. Its ears were a little pointy, as an elf, and if Chan kept going with the Otherworld analogy, then this AI would fit right in. Graceful, elegant, sharp.
“The Eighth!”
BANG! BANG!
The shudder quivered through his limbs, his heart pulsing with the speed and storm of a hurricane. His ears rang, breath shallow and slight before the pain shot right up his torso.
Chan gasped, stumbling back, hand pressed to his aching part. There was a commotion, as expected, and--
His eyes caught a faint, shimmering glint. Like the glass of wine. And when he squinted, he swore he met the eyes of familiar blue eyes. With a gun in hand.
Of course.
The realization and shock hit Chan in the head.
He choked on air, his throat tight, his hand wet with red.
His mind was in a haze, all thoughts running and stopping all at once. The pain blared the more he moved, and it wasn’t hard, even with this madness in his head, for him to know that it was blood.
He heard footsteps, and it didn’t sound too far. He might be hurt but he couldn’t risk getting caught. He hauled himself up, bending down at an angle that got his lips bitten down to hold back a scream, and scrammed his way towards the nearest lift.
He didn’t look back, kept on running even as he stumbled into the plush carpet. He couldn’t get caught; he had to go home. It was Friday night. He had group work with what’s-his-face. He had to go back...to Seokmin.
Minnie.
What would Seokmin think, if he knew his brother was part of a hitmen crew? Seokmin, who was kind and warm and worked his ass off so Chan could eat and live comfortably to the best he could. Seokmin, who raised him after their parents left without a word.
Chan made it to an elevator. He didn’t care which one, just pressed the button, and wheezed as he held onto the wall. His pursuers were somewhere behind him or whatever. Thank goodness it was such a big fucking floor.
He couldn’t die yet. He had to...he had to give the money to Seokmin, at least. He deserved it. He deserved the rest and reward for being such a loving brother, a beautiful person.
The doors opened, and he zipped in before it could fully do, already pressing buttons. Only after the door closed did he allow himself to slump against the walls. The mirrors showed a full glimpse of himself; his appearance a complete mess, Mingyu’s suit stained with blood. Chan’s blood.
He looked tired and messed up. Like Seokmin in the mornings, when customers were shit to him and bosses barely paid him. Except Seokmin was noble, so, so noble. And Chan could never repay his deeds and care.
“Dino!” That was...Woozi’s voice. Oh. Oh, he’d been talking this whole time. “Dino--dammit, Chan! Answer me!”
“I--” he croaked. His vision blurred, his hands back to clutching the wound. “I’m here.”
“Chan, where are you?” the voice was muffled by the pounding of his head, the thunderous beating of his heart. “Chan, tell me where you are, and stay put. We’re gonna get you.”
He slid down to the floor, graced by the sight of his pathetic self, weak and limp and his whole body screaming and aching. The blood was so red, so stark against his white clothes, he felt bile threatening to spill out from his guts.
“L--” He winced. “Lift.”
“Which lift?”
He didn’t know. He didn’t have the energy to, doubling over and sending another flurry of pain, as he wretched his guts out.
Chan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He laid down, unmoving, numb. His throat felt clogged, his nose could only capture blood and vomit. He knew he was disgusting, but he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to…
“Dino!” His body was being shaken. Ouch. “Dino, don’t sleep! Come on, stay with me!”
Was this his last moment? Surrounded by his own innings, some voice still screaming into his glasses, his assignments undone, his gratitude unsaid? Humans were screaming, panicking outside but none of them was Seokmin.
“Seokmin…”
At least Seokmin was safe. As long as Seokmin was fine.
“Channie!”
“Channie.” Seokmin’s warm, calloused hands cupped his face. His smile was always there, a staple on his face, even as the light in his eyes fainted, even as his face thinned. “It’s okay, Channie. You have me.”
He had nightmares, sometimes, of his parents leaving. Of being left alone, drowning in an endless red sea.
His tears were brushed away, a warm kiss on his head.
“I’ll never leave you.”