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Chapter Text

In this world that melts away,
I'll continue to love you
Faltering and lost and unneeded
Come here with me
—Illness Illusion, Gackt

The rich smell of tobacco hung in the air— tension palpable as several jopok members stood, braced for a tongue-lashing from their boss.

Dongsik's right hand man spoke first, head bent, hands straight at his sides; he was a large man with a scar across his eyebrow, giving him a more menacing appearance than perhaps he deserved. "Boss, the takeover of the gambling parlour on the west side was—"

"Enough," Dongsik raised a halting hand, waving vaguely and indicating that he wanted the man to step back. "I don't want to hear more about your failures," he lowered his hand and let it rest atop the crown of the young man at his feet, kneeling prettily, fingers lazily playing with the collar around his neck that was latched to a silver chain in Dongsik's other hand. He soothed his fingers through the young man's hair. "And what were the takings this week, then?" he addressed him again.

He stepped forward and handed him a file, declining his head politely, not daring to speak until spoken to.

Dongsik reviewed the figures, handing the file to the youth at his feet who scanned them, eyes narrowed, head cocked.

An indictment.

Dongsik sighed. "They're no good," he took the file back. "Get out," he instructed, "we'll finish this later. You'll have to come up with the money somehow, and I'd hate to take it out of your… impressive salary," he gave them a threateningly knowing look.

As the men filed out, there were hesitant grumblings about the youth that their boss kept almost like a pet.

How he has so much sway over him I'll never know.

Didn't Boss find him in the streets or something?

He's even more high-up than hyung is, that's not fair.

As the door shut, Dongsik's hand returned to the youth's crown. "So, what do you think?" he asked.

The young man gently pressed his cheek to Dongsik's thigh, thinking. "They're skimming off the top," he deduced easily. "Have been for at least a month now," he went on. He tilted his face upward to meet Dongsik's eyes, unafraid. "Taeil-hyung is probably the one orchestrating it."

Dongsik nodded, taking it in. He's never been wrong yet. "Come here," he tugged a little on the chain, the subtle clink of it the only sound in the room now.

The youth slipped across his lap like a cat.

Dongsik rested his hands about his slim waist, slow thumbs sneaking under the hem of his shirt to feel the warm, smooth skin of his hips. "Joowon-ah, what should we do about this?" he asked, nipping at the youth's plush lip.

Joowon sank into the older man's embrace, kissing him languidly. "If you don't get blood from them, they'll do it again," he decided, bringing Dongsik's hand up to his neck and letting it rest at his collar. "You should make an example of them."

"Mm, when you're right you're right…" Dongsik considered, applying a little pressure to the base of Joowon's throat as he kissed him again.

The pretty youth rocked in Dongsik's lap. "Deal with it later," he snaked a hand between them, deftly undoing Dongsik's belt. "In the morning."

Dongsik slid off Joowon's collar and bit a bruising kiss into the soft flesh of him. "In the morning," he agreed.

Chapter Text

It didn't take long before word got out that Boss Lee had found out about a few of the more senior members cooking the books.

A meeting had been called in the gambling parlor— the boss' preferred arena for dressing down his men.

Blood had been spilt there on more than one occasion, too.

As the men filed in, they kept their eyes downcast as they nodded in deferential greeting toward Boss Lee and his little pet, who, as usual, was knelt by his side, silent, toying with the chain latched to his leather collar.

Watching them.

When the men had been stood standing in a purposefully uncomfortable silence for what felt like an age, Dongsik stood, smoothing his slicked-back hair with a sigh, as though he were about to admonish naughty schoolchildren. When he raised his gaze, though, there was no pity, no mirth in his pretty eyes whatever.

"Yoon Taeil," his voice was dripping with venom. A man in his late forties, with the build of a retired boxer and a scar that cut his lower lip, flinched as if struck. He didn't step forward. He knew what was coming.

"I have a question for you," Dongsik continued, unfazed by the man's stubbornness, his tone almost frighteningly light. "When a man is hungry, what does he do? Mm?" he asked, hands loosely in his trouser pockets as he meandered around the men, circling like a shark.

Taeil's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"He asks to eat," Dongsik replied for him, tapping his shoulder, making him flinch. "He comes to me, and says, 'Boss, business is good, but my family's growing. I need a little more,' mm?" he stood in front of him now. "That pretty little wife of yours, you like to keep her barefoot and pregnant while you spend your nights with my girls, don't you," he flicked his cheek. "And babies cost money. Almost as much as my girls do," he laughed, and the rest of the men laughed along, too; nervous.

Taeil's brow began to bead with sweat.

Dongsik took out his kerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at Taeil's face. "I'm a reasonable man," he pouted, his aegyo unnerving everyone. "If you'd come to me and said 'listen, boss, Sora is pregnant again but I just can't seem to keep spending money on the girls at the host bar, can you give me a little extra this month?' Maybe I'd have said yes," he shrugged, sucking his teeth, giving him a ttakbam to his brow and tossing the used kerchief at his feet. "But you didn't, did you," he turned away with a theatrical sigh. "You thought you could steal from me and take thousands for yourself. Assumed I wouldn't have noticed."

Taeil's head reflexively declined further, staring at his Boss' shoes.

"Two months you've been taking from my offered hand while picking my pocket with your other," he sighed. "How many daughters do you have, now? Yujin and Mijin and now this one in the oven," he considered. "And then there's your pretty Sora," he cocked his head, humming in thought. "If I were a crueler man I'd have them work off the debt you owe," he remarked, watching the colour drain from Taeil's face at the mere thought. "But I'm not a villain, I'm a businessman," he clicked his tongue, clapping a strong hand on Taeil's shoulder and making him jump. "So it's up to you," he grinned, his teeth shining in a mirthless, menacing smile, looking past him to Joowon now, and nodding imperceptibly.

Joowon stood and produced a coupe-cigare from his pocket and walked toward Dongsik, extending his neck and waiting dutifully.

Dongsik unlatched the chain from his collar with a clink that seemed to echo in the frightened stillness of the room, sliding the length of it through his fingers before tossing it back against the leather sofa.

He saw the looks on his men's faces, and licked his lip.

I don't keep him chained for my benefit, his eyes gleamed impishly. It's for you lot.

The men knew that cutter— it was no ordinary tool; though it was clean, it was irrevocably stained with blood.

As it would be again.

"Left hand," Joowon spoke, smoothly and evenly as he gestured with his chin. "Table," he instructed simply.

Taeil had no choice now but to obey.

Kneeling in front of the cherrywood coffee table, lowering himself— it was, he knew, as much about the mechanics of this as it was the penance for what he'd done.

Joowon perched himself on the edge of the table and crossed his leg as gingerly as if he were waiting for the bus, twirling the little weapon in bored hands.

Waiting.

Dongsik stepped in front of Taeil now. "I have an offer for you, Taeil-ie," he cocked his head, the diminutive holding no warmth, no comfort now. "Name your accomplice, keep your finger," he sing-songed.

Taeil's jaw tightened. He downcast his eyes.

He'd never given up the name of anyone in the family before, not even when there'd been money in it.

His silence lingered in the air as his brothers looked on, nervous.

After a little stretch of weighty stillness, Dongsik handed Taeil the soiled kerchief from the floor, stuffing it in his mouth to muffle his forthcoming scream. He gave Joowon a look.

Joowon slipped Taeil's pinky through the coupe-cigare and sliced.

Taeil's surprised cry was indeed muffled by the silk gag in his mouth, but of course it did nothing for the blood as his pinky fell to the carpeted floor.

Joowon looked to Dongsik for further instruction, wiping the splatter of blood from his cheeks and licking at his thumb.

"Once more," Dongsik leaned down and grasped at the hair at Taeil's crown, focusing him. "A name, or a finger."

Taeil's eyes were shining with heavy tears, but he shook his head.

Dongsik sighed, letting go gruffly. "Another," he waved vaguely at Joowon, who positioned the cutter at the base of his ring finger next. "Pity about your wedding ring. Wearing it on the right hand is bad luck," he clicked his tongue. "Though I think you've brought Sora enough of that, haven't you," he pretended to pout. His eyes flicked to Joowon once more.

Again, Joowon sliced decisively.

He never needed more than one.

He'd gotten quite good, over the years.

The gold wedding band slipped off the discarded finger and rolled toward Dongsik's shoe.

It's not like he'll be missing that. It's time someone told Sora about him, anyway. 

Chapter Text

Dongsik shut and locked the door to the gambling parlour once the matter had been closed, the men ushered out.

The fingers collected and disposed of.

In the end, there'd been seven taken from Taeil, Gilyoung, Mingjun, and Soorae.

He sighed.

They'll have to be dealt with further.

He felt Joowon's slim finger hook around one of his belt loops from behind, tugging once.

But not right now.

Dongsik turned to Joowon, flecks of blood staining his placid face. "You enjoyed that, didn't you," he surmised, reading it in his dark eyes, taking his chin in his hand.

Joowon cocked his head with a little hum. "I always enjoy doing what you ask of me," he replied diplomatically, though there was a pretty impishness in it. He slipped Dongsik's suit jacket from his shoulders, gingerly dropping it to one of the leather chairs by him. "Didn't I do a good job?" he pouted, eyes shining.

Dongsik kissed him hard. "You did very well," he praised, splayed fingers across Joowon's cheeks staining red where the blood smeared. He slipped a hand between them and palmed Joowon lazily through his trousers. "My good boy," he nipped at his lip.

Joowon wrapped his arms about Dongsik's shoulders and pulled him into one of the plush chairs, straddling him properly and beginning to undo the buttons of his shirtfront, rocking in his lap and sighing to feel the press of the older man's steel-hard heat against his own. He kissed down his neck, careful to never leave marks; choosing instead to let his lips trail down his chest until he slipped onto his knees and rested his cheek patiently on Dongsik's thigh.

Dongsik cupped his cheek, a slow thumb stroking the smooth skin, smudging the blood that was still splattered across his pretty face.

Joowon obediently took Dongsik into his mouth with a heady sigh, tongue lolling across the hot length of him as he relaxed his throat.

"Ah…" Dongsik watched him with half-closed eyes, a had curling through the youth's hair. "Come here, come here," he changed his mind, pulling Joowon into his lap and undoing his trouser buttons instead. "My beautiful boy," he kissed him hard as Joowon settled down on him with a sated sigh that the older man felt through his chest. He playfully licked at the blood that had flecked across his neck.

"Am I pretty, stained red?" Joowon asked, rocking his hips, grinding against him with a little moan.

"The prettiest," Dongsik praised, a hand snaking to rest at the small of his back, fingers splayed across the smooth expanse, steadying him as he rocked in his lap. He held Joowon's chin with his free hand, watching lust cloud the youth's dark eyes as he unravelled in his arms. My darling boy. After everything… he kissed him, licking his lips and tasting the dried blood there. "Tell me something sweet, Joowon-ah," he panted softly into his mouth.

Joowon shivered in his arms, his hands moving to hold Dongsik's cheeks as he kissed him back hungrily. "I love you," he replied, groaning with every bucking of Dongsik's hips up into him.

Dongsik brought him down hard, fingers splayed across Joowon's milky, muscular thighs. "I love you," he murmured against his neck, biting a bruising kiss near his jaw, soothing it with his tongue as it bloomed claret.

The little gold heart dangling from Joowon's collar clinked softly with the rocking of his hips.

"Come into me," Joowon urged prettily against his lips. "Please…"

Dongsik grinned into another kiss. Whatever you ask of me, I'll always give it to you.

The faint sounds of traffic gently woke Joowon from his deep sleep. He was wrapped around Dongsik in their bed— he held him like a child might hold a teddy bear; it made him smirk against the older man's neck.

He kissed the warm, honey flesh of him where he could reach, breathing him in deeply and curling a piece of Dongsik's fringe in slow fingers, counting the first sprouts of silver hair at his crown.

You're so gorgeous like this. When you're sleeping and there's nothing to do. No one to wear your mask for.

I love you.

He kissed his cheek, a swell of possessiveness making his chest ache.

I don't know where I'd be without you.

Dead, probably.

Dongsik, still sleeping, pulled him closer, burying his face in the perfumed curve of Joowon's neck.

Yeah, Joowon shut his eyes once more to let sleep take him back. I'd be dead.

Chapter Text

Joowon hadn't even heard him come up behind him while he was working late in the office that night.

He crumpled to the floor after suffering a blow to the upper back that knocked the wind from him utterly— before he could turn and even attempt to fight back, he was injected with something in his neck; and all went black.

That cologne… Taeil. Of course…

He could not speak, but he could feel himself being carried like a rag doll out of the office; he heard the door slam shut.

This is revenge, isn't it.

He lost consciousness right about when he was shoved into the back of someone's car.

The splash of ice-cold water on his face forced a pained groan from Joowon as he was shocked awake.

Then came the first slap.

Joowon turned his face and spat blood across the poured concrete floor. Though his vision was blurry, he knew precisely where he was; the warehouse. "Didn't want to get the gambling parlour's rug all bloody?" he forced himself to grin up at his assailants. Don't show fear. They're the ones who are afraid of you. Otherwise they wouldn't have done this.

Another blow— this time, a punch to his stomach, forcing him to fall winded to his knees.

Boots against his ribs, his spine.

His face.

Joowon tried to count how many men there actually were; he could tell them apart by the fierceness of their kicks.

So far, he counted four.

The men manhandled him onto a nearby table, rough with age and splintered. They tied his wrists down, began stripping him gruffly.

There were ripples of thick, cruel laughter as they tore off his clothes.

"Look at all the fucking hickeys Boss gives this whore," one of them scoffed. "They're all over him."

A slap to his naked thigh.

Joowon fixed his face toward stoicism, refusing to react to their words. Not giving them the satisfaction.

"Whore!"

"You're not one of us!"

"Slut!"

"Street garbage!"

He could hear the cold sound of metal zippers being undone, the clink of belt buckles being unlatched and slid through their loops before being discarded on the concrete floor.

Joowon knew what would come next.

He set his jaw.

"Open up, sunshine," a voice he knew to be Daeha's taunted him as he gripped his chin hard, forcing his lips apart.

Joowon's vision was still blurry, but he could smell him. It made his stomach churn. "Aren't you afraid I'll bite it off?" he shot back flatly.

Daeha scoffed, shoving his cock into Joowon's forcibly opened mouth. "You dare try and I'll put a bullet between your eyes," he warned him, tearing off his collar and throwing it across the expanse.

Joowon narrowed his eyes, unable to fight back. Dongsik's going to kill you just for that. It was custom-made.

Another of the men parted his thighs.

Shutting his eyes and forcing himself to ignore the stale, acrid taste of Daeha's cock in his mouth, he braced himself.

The burn of being forcefully fucked tore through his whole body, and he shook from the pain of it, making the men laugh derisively. He groaned in pain around Daeha's girth, struggling to breathe through it without throwing up for the smell of him invading his nose.

They're so rough. Of course they are.

The men shamelessly took turns, each moment of emptiness within him a small reprieve for Joowon as he fought to keep consciousness. He refused to let the tears in his eyes fall; squeezing his eyes shut against it all, he counted down, each number a grievance against each of the men who laughed as they took their turn with him, pulling him this way and that, bruising his skin, breaking it in places and making him bleed from their dirty fingernails.

Dongsik's going to kill every last one of you for touching me like this.

He'll enjoy it.

Then, another thought.

A comforting thought.

I'll enjoy it, too.

He forced himself to open his eyes to identify the men for later.

Taeil, Daeha, Mingjun… Gilyoung. Soorae. Gyudam. Kiho… and Seokjae. I think that's all of them. The seniors. Of course. Can't have a young whore like me sitting at Dongsik's right hand, huh.

Suddenly, Daeha spilt down his throat with a thick, low moan. "Fuck, take it all…" he laughed, sliding out of his mouth. "Swallow it, be a good little slut," he smacked his cheeks.

Joowon spat it all out, a little grin on his face as cum and saliva dripped down his bruised chin.

Daeha slapped him so hard for his disobedience that all went black.

Chapter Text

The rain fell in sheets, ice-cold and unrelenting.

Joowon drew up his knees to his chest, the cardboard box he'd been sitting on now soaked through and limp.

The split lip and bruised jaw he'd earned from the fight with his father stung hellfire, made worse by the chilled evening air and the rain that fell mercilessly down on him.

He fancied that even his insides must be wet from the rain, now.

The thought made him smirk.

He wondered when —or, indeed, if— his father would send one of his lackeys to come find him and drag him home.

It wasn't their first knock-down, drag-out fight, but it had been their worst one in recent memory.

Joowon's father had ceased all pretense about raising a hand to him once he'd returned from Eton that year— he'd beat him for the smallest of offences: looking at him directly in the face, coming to dinner late, or daring to suggest he be allowed to pursue a career as something other than an officer or prosecutor who'd be his to control. His father had just been made Police Commissioner General, the most powerful officer in all Korea; and he desperately wanted —no, needed— Joowon to remain on-side and act as his little puppet.

When Joowon refused this last time, it had ended in blood, and a slammed door.

He shut his eyes and rested his chin in the couching of his crossed arms about his knees.

Then—

Footsteps. And—

An umbrella being held over him, and the rain hitting the bright yellow vinyl instead.

"You must be freezing," a handsome, besuited man observed with a raised brow. "You have a rich face, pretty boy. Who did you piss off enough to find yourself here?"

Joowon couldn't help the little smirk that grew across his bruised and cut lip. "My father," he replied simply, boldly outstretching his hand.

An invitation.

A challenge.

The stranger took it, and pulled him upstanding.

"Do you belong to anyone?" he asked.

Joowon shook his head in the negative. "No," he replied.

"Well, then," The man smiled, showing off pretty teeth. "Do you want to belong to me?"

Joowon looked him up and down, taking in the sight of him— a suit worth thousands, a Rolex on his wrist, expensive cologne.

"Yes," he replied, without missing a beat. "As long as you won't let me go. As long as you mean it," he added, fretting with the end of the man's tie, the silk slipping through his fingers.

"I always mean what I say, pretty," the man watched the youth watch him. "What's your name?"

Joowon relinquished his hold of the man's tie. "Han Joowon," he replied. The man's eyes glinted with something like recognition, and Joowon smirked. "Yes, that one," he confirmed.

The man took his chin in his hand. "Good," he decided. "Come home with me."

Joowon opened his eyes —not without difficulty; his left eye felt swollen and heavy, and he knew his face was badly bruised. He was no longer in the warehouse; after a moment's concentrated wakefulness, he registered that he was back in the office apart from the gambling parlour.

Everything ached; his legs were jelly and his throat and insides burned from the assault. He'd been haphazardly redressed, which he did count as a small mercy, but even the familiar, soft fabric of his clothes felt like sandpaper against his skin.

He looked down at himself.

His shirt was splotched with claret, torn in places; the zipper of his trousers broken and undone, his belt missing. He was sticky underneath his clothes.

They hadn't even wiped him down before dressing him.

His collar was gone, too.

Joowon felt his neck with shaking, weak fingers, tracing a slow line where it used to sit so prettily against his warm skin.

He felt naked without it.

Dongsik had given it to him five years ago, a few weeks after he'd picked him up off the street; he'd loved it from the start. The feeling of freely giving someone control over himself— so unlike the control that his father took from him, that he demanded, Dongsik's control was warm, rich like honey; wanted. Needed. And the symbol of their partnership, that collar, was something he'd worn proudly for the last five years; always choosing shirts that opened at the neck so that it was never hidden, never a secret; the little gold heart charm resting comfortably in the hollow of his suprasternal notch.

Slowly, he drew his hands down, across himself, the expanse of his bruised body, checking for broken ribs. He wasn't sure what that might feel like; he hoped nothing was broken.

Blessedly, it seemed, he still had the use of his arms and his legs; the brutes hadn't broken his limbs, nor had they taken any fingers, at least.

That, Joowon smirked, would have been too simplistic a revenge gambit even for them.

And certainly one Dongsik would have abhorred— the man loved Joowon's fingers, after all.

He crawled toward Dongsik's great cherrywood desk on shaking legs and felt for the emergency contact button beneath it.

With a little smirk, he remembered the day it had been installed.

"Why bother with an alert button?" Joowon asked, running his fingers along the surface of the desk. "If someone's breached security, isn't it too late if you're offsite?"

Dongsik grinned and took his chin, kissing him chastely. "This button sends a signal to my phone," he waved it vaguely. "So when we're not attached like this," he yanked playfully on the chain latched to Joowon's collar for emphasis. "I'll come running. and I'll tear the throat out of anyone who dares to touch you."

Joowon nodded, grinning into a slow, deliberate kiss. "I'd like to see that."

"I know you would, naughty boy," Dongsik deepened the kiss, sitting Joowon on the desk and slipping his hands beneath the folds of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Joowon clicked the button with a trembling hand and let it fall back down by his side as he caught his breath from the effort of crawling.

Don't be long, Dongsik.

He closed his eyes.

I need you. Please…

Chapter Text

Dongsik's jaw set as he made his way through the hallway— his calls to Joowon's phone had gone unanswered, and none of his men were where they should be.

He braced himself as he entered the gambling parlour, finding nothing.

He strode on through to the office, swinging open the door with a recklessness he should have checked, but in the moment ignored.

There was Joowon—

Lying in a crumpled pile like a broken doll, clothes bloody—

"Joowon-ah," he was at his side like a shot, knelt close, a careful hand on his chin observing the extensive damage. "My god, what's—" his breath shook.

From anger, from fear— he couldn't tell which.

It didn't matter.

"Mutiny," Joowon croaked, his voice raspy and made small with exhaustion. He reached for Dongsik's cheek with a trembling, bloody hand. "Dongsik…"

"Shh, it's alright," Dongsik took Joowon's hand and pressed kisses across his bloody knuckles. "I've got you now."

Mutiny, huh.

Let's have some fun, then.

Standing him in the washroom to clean him up, leaning him against the counter, Dongsik carefully stripped Joowon of his ripped and soiled clothes, smelling the other men on him and feeling anger rise in his throat. "Who?" he asked, trying to keep control of the emotion in his voice. He's been beaten within an inch of his life. Nail marks like claws, bite marks, bruises, blood between his legs… jesus christ. Look how they've massacred my boy. "Who hurt you, aegiya?"

Despite himself, Joowon smiled a little at the soft endearment. "It's a long list," he admitted, eyes downcast, feeling his chest heave with the effort of keeping his tears away.

Dongsik held his chin. "Look at me," he urged softly. "You're alright, I promise. Mm?" he tried to get Joowon to lift his gaze.

Something in Joowon's chest snapped, and he leaned his brow against the curve of Dongsik's neck, losing the battle with his tears. "I'm sorry," he managed between little sobs, finally feeling safe enough to break. "I'm so sorry. They've ruined me. Forgive me, they've ruined me for you," his breath came hard and fast as panic and sadness swirled inside him. He brought his hands to his face, hiding his eyes, ashamed. "You'll never want to touch me again—"

Alarm bells went off in Dongsik's mind. He carefully pried Joowon's hands from his eyes and held him closer, shaking his head. "Hey, shh," he cooed against his cheek. "I'll always want you, pretty," he reassured him, kissing the corner of his lip softly, mindful of the bruising. "You could never be ruined," he soothed his hands through his hair, unsure whether the gesture was more for him or for the trembling youth in his arms. "There's no need for that kind of talk," he kissed his crown. "Let me clean you up," he held Joowon's face in both hands and kissed his brow, the corners of his bruised and split lips, careful not to hurt him. "And then when you're resting, I'll call my doctor to check you out properly. We'll take you to our private hospital. No one will see. Okay?" he searched Joowon's blurry eyes for confirmation. After all this, he's worried I won't want him. My darling boy… "Joowon-ah," he kissed his brow once more. "Let me take care of you, angel." Let me make sure you're alright so I'm in the right mood to kill them for laying a finger on you.

Joowon let Dongsik wipe his bruised, tear-stained cheeks. "Okay," he nodded, giving in. His trembling fingers clung hard to Dongsik's shirtfront as he let himself be held.

He hadn't let the men see him weak, not even for a moment, not even when they'd taken him three at a time.

But now, he was safe and in the arms of the only man who'd ever loved him like he'd needed to be loved, and it was safe for him to weep.

So he did.

Dongsik sat by the now-sleeping Joowon, one hand curling absentmindedly through his soft, thick hair as he watched over him, thinking.

You must be so, so tired, angel. After what they did to you.

Joowon had managed to recall the names of the men who'd raped him, who'd brutalized him so thoroughly. They were all high-ups in their gang; this offence was too big to ignore.

Just taking a few fingers would never suffice.

He crossed his leg, sitting back a little in his chair and retreating his hand, fretting with his watch face.

He sighed, and took his phone from the night stand— loathe to leave Joowon's side even for a moment, but not wanting to disturb him now that he was finally asleep. He stepped just away, hovering instead by their bedroom door as he hit call.

"Oh, ahjussi," a young woman's voice greeted him brightly on the other end. "It's late, is everything—"

"Minjeong-ah, I need you to do something for me," he didn't have time for pleasantries. "I need you and Jaeyi to organize the girls," he went on, not waiting for her reply. "All of them. Right now. I'll be sending instructions."

Minjeong's tone changed. "What's happened?" she asked.

He could hear her rustling— getting her coat? He smiled. You're always ready to go, aren't you.

He nodded, though of course Minjeong couldn't see. "We're cleaning house, my little gongjunim," he explained, giving nothing away but knowing she'd get the message.

"I'll get everyone ready. Text me what you need," she replied dutifully.

"That's my girl," Dongsik praised.

Chapter Text

The doctor looked over his shoulder at Joowon, sleeping soundly in the hospital bed; he had been hooked up to IV vitamins and a banana bag after being scanned for internal injuries. "They always look so small, don't they, in those beds," he remarked, seeing the strain on Dongsik's face. He clapped a supportive hand on his shoulder. "He'll be alright in a few days," he promised.

Dongsik gave a perfunctory nod, rubbing at his face with a sigh. He'd known Doctor Ji for years, there was no sense in wearing a mask of stoicism around the man. "And you're sure there's no internal bleeding, where he was…" he couldn't bear to finish the sentence.

Doctor Ji nodded. "There's some tearing and some swelling. Forced intercourse, the assault, it was… quite rough," he chose his words carefully. "But nothing's broken, there won't be any lasting damage— physical damage," he corrected himself. "Obviously, no sex for the next few weeks," he gave him a look. "He needs to heal."

Dongsik gave him a look right back. "He's worried I won't want him now," he sighed, deflating against the hallway wall. "When I found him, that's the thought that broke him. That I wouldn't want him any more because of this," he felt tears stinging his eyes and blinked them away. "I'll kill them, every last one of them," he added.

Knowing the doctor wouldn't mind.

Doctor Ji only nodded. "And I'll be here to patch you up afterwards, too," he offered.

"Like always," Dongsik wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Like always."

Joowon stirred slowly at the feeling of Dongsik's hand in his hair. "Mm…" he shifted a little in bed, blinking awake and registering that they were not at home; he was in a hospital gown, and there was an IV line fixed to his arm. "Ah…" he tried to sit up, but Dongsik coaxed him back down.

"Don't move too much, aegiya," he instructed gently, ghosting his hand along Joowon's cheek and down his neck, surveying the bruises and scratches. The hospital staff had bathed him more thoroughly than he'd been able, and he was glad to see him without the dried blood that had stained his skin. He no longer smelled of the men, either; he smelt of hospital soap and that almost bubblegum-like sanitizer— for this, he was glad, too, though it still made his heart twist.

"Dongsik, how long…" he reached for his hand and held it weakly. "How long have I been out?"

Dongsik raised Joowon's hand to his lips and kissed it. "A few hours now," he replied just as softly. "You needed the rest. Doctor Ji says nothing's broken or bleeding," he informed him, knowing Joowon would ask. "You do have some tearing," he smoothed his hand down Joowon's torso over the hospital blanket. "From the assault. But nothing that needed repairing or surgery," he added quickly. "You're going to be waited on hand and foot for the next few weeks, my little prince," he kissed his crown.

Joowon turned his face just so and caught Dongsik's lips in a soft kiss. As Dongsik reflexively pulled back, Joowon reached for his cheek. "Kiss me properly, please," he urged gently, voice shaking. Please, kiss me like you can still love me after this.

Dongsik took Joowon's chin in his hand and obeyed, kissing him slowly, careful of the cut on his bottom lip but still sincere enough so that he hoped Joowon would feel it. "Look at me and tell me you understand something," Dongsik murmured against his lips.

Joowon nodded.

"Look at me and tell me you understand that I'll never stop loving you, Joowon-ah," he kissed him again. "That I'll never not want you. That you're mine."

Again, Joowon nodded.

Dongsik shook his head. "Be a good boy and say it, angel," he pressed.

Joowon raised his gaze to meet Dongsik's. "I understand," he promised, eyes glassed with unfallen tears. He indulged himself and brought Dongsik's face close for another kiss, as though needing to seal their little spell.

Dongsik soothed his hands through Joowon's hair. "I have to go, soon," he kissed his crown. "To set things right."

"Kill them," Joowon held his gaze.

Again, Dongsik pressed a kiss to his crown. "With pleasure," he replied. "Every last one of them."

"Those fuckers!" Minjeong cursed, standing abruptly and sending her chair clattering behind her. "Joowonnie is— how could they—"

Dongsik steadied her with a hand on her arm. "They were jealous," he explained evenly, having moved past anger and into a state of pure calculation, now. "He's alright now, Doctor Ji is with him and he's safe," he saw the girls' faces move from worried to relieved. "But now it's my turn for a little violence." He sat her back down and addressed all the girls, gathered together in the parlour. "So I need a handful of you— at least eight," he scanned their faces. "Though, you'll all be getting healthy bonuses this month whether you take part or not, of course," he grinned, and the girls tittered. "So who wants to help your favourite crooked yeonggam with some dirty work?" he raised a playful brow.

A sea of hands went up.

Chapter Text

Taeil awoke with a pained groan, blinking back to himself and realizing too late that he was bound to a kitchen chair.

His kitchen chair.

I'm— I'm home? I was at the club just now, wasn't I?

He did not have long to wonder— Dongsik greeted him with a smack across the face.

Taeil cursed.

Dongsik sucked his teeth, cocking his head. "You and I need to have a chat, Taeil," he flexed his fingers, making a show of stretching them.

Sora emerged into his line of sight now, with a cold look in her eye he'd never seen before.

"Baby, untie me, please—"

Another slap.

"Don't you ever call me baby again!" She warned, stepping back and resting a hand on her full belly. "Lee-sajangnim told me everything, you lying, slimy motherfuc—"

"Just Dongsik, please," Dongsik interjected with honey in his voice. He turned to her. "You're family, after all. Him, however, not so much now," he motioned with his chin toward Taeil, turning back to him. "I've told her everything, obviously. About how you really spend your nights. About Jisoo's abortion, too. It's all been laid on the table," he clicked his tongue. "I wouldn't press your luck."

Taeil's eyes shook. "You bastard— you said—" he clenched his fists against his bonds.

Dongsik laughed, though there was no mirth in it whatever. "And you swore a loyalty oath to me when I brought you in," he reminded him. "Apparently that never extended to Joowon. Did he tell you what he did, Sora-ya?" he asked, holding his chin roughly.

Sora winced. "I don't want to know," she shook her head. "I just want him out of my house," she gave him a look. "Is Joowon-ssi alright?" she asked after a beat, concerned. She always liked him.

"Well," Dongsik gave her a look. "He will be. But your husband here did such a number on him he'll have to be on bed rest for weeks," he smacked his cheeks menacingly. "You were very… thorough," he smacked him once more for good measure, turning to Sora again. "Do I have your blessing, then, Sora-ya? To dispose of him?" he asked, wanting to at least be a little delicate. You're a gangster's wife. You know what needs to happen next.

Sora nodded. "Shall I leave, then?" she asked, reaching for her purse perched on the table.

"Yes, that would be best," Dongsik agreed, reaching into his suit jacket for a folded parcel of bills and handing it to her with a kiss to her cheek. "Buy yourself and the girls something nice, maybe stay at a hotel for a few days while things get settled. Lucky they're away at university," he cocked his head, and lowered his voice to a warm honey lilt. "Don't worry about the baby, Sora. We'll take care of you."

Sora softened. "Thank you," she took the money and gave a last, ice-cold look at her husband. "Contact me when it's over," she decided.

Dongsik saw her off. "Will do," he shut the door behind him.

A beat before he turned back to face Taeil—

He cracked his knuckles.

"Now," he moved to him with all the charm of a shark circling his prey. "Where were we?"

As Sora made to turn the corner, she heard a gunshot ring out from somewhere above.

Fuck, it's colder than I thought it would be… Daeha upturned his coat collar against the evening chill as he made his way through the street, remarking to himself how strangely empty the area seemed for the time of night. As he paused to light a cigarette, he thought he heard faint footsteps coming up behind him—

Something hit him in the back of the neck, making him crumple rather like a ragdoll onto the pavement. "Ah…" he groaned, seeing stars from the hit. He tried to push off the ground to raise himself, but the heel of a boot pressed into his back, pinning him down. "What the fu—"

"Watch your mouth," a young woman's voice cautioned, pressing her heel further into the middle of his back as she bent down near him.

Daeha could not move— something sharp had been pressed to his neck.

A needle? What—

All went black.

"Tsch," Minjeong clicked her tongue. "You were always a lightweight."

She took out her gun.

"Holy shit, hyungnim, will you look at this—" the young officer tugged on his senior's shirtsleeve. "I think someone's— oh, my god…" he stilled, feet rooted to the spot. "I think— I think they're—"

His partner turned to look down into the alley to see what he'd seen. "Oh, fuck—" he reached for his walkie talkie, taking a step forward cautiously. "Is that his…" he blinked hard a few times before turning just away and retching into a pile of garbage.

The younger of the pair took the walkie talkie. "This is unit 202, um," he stammered. "We've got an unidentified male here, um. Deceased, I think— well. He's been shot twice. In the head. Forehead. His, um. Fuck—" he swallowed hard, trying not to vomit as his senior had done. "Genitalia's been severed and— oh, god. Um. Shoved down his throat."

The line was quiet for a beat.

Then—

"Sorry, what the fuck did you just say?"

Jaeyi leaned against the plush wall of the club. "Want to have some fun with me, oppa?" she asked, cocking her head cutely.

Kiho grinned, showing off one of his gold teeth. "Sure, baby," he slid an arm around her waist, already reeking of alcohol. "What did you have in mind?" his eyes flicked up and over to one of the private rooms. Kiho was a a usual client of hers, always one to get a little too handsy after a few drinks as if he owned her. She'd asked Dongsik to be allowed to take care of him personally —when they'd all sat down the night previous to divvy up the assignments, she'd practically insisted on it— and she was looking forward to being the one to silence the man's smarmy attitude forever.

"Mm, I don't know," she lied, pressing up against him and letting her eyes wander, too, toward one of the private rooms. Get the hint yet, moron?

Despite his less than stellar intelligence, Kiho did pick up what Jaeyi was putting down— he led her by a hand to the small of her back toward an empty private room, shutting the door and sitting on the plush booth, pulling her into his lap. "You're so cold to me usually, Jaeyi-ya," he pouted cutely. "Have you changed your mind?"

Jaeyi smirked, playfully undoing his shirtfront buttons and coyly tugging a little on the gold chain around his neck. "I suppose so," she lied prettily, one hand reaching into her purse.

In a blink, her knife was at his throat.

"Woah— woah, baby, what the hell is this?" Kiho stammered, the drink making him slow on the uptake. He daren't move; in fact, he retracted his hands from around Jaeyi's waist and raised them in surrender. "What—"

Jaeyi rolled her eyes. "Did you really think you could hurt Joowonie and it wouldn't get back to us?" she gave him an almost pitying look. "I'm going to enjoy this," she cocked her head and pressed the tip of the blade against his throat, a pinhead of claret blooming there.

Kiho began to sweat. "The brat— the brat had it coming," he tried to explain, whimpering himself silent as Jaeyi pressed the blade closer. "He—"

Jaeyi's hand remained poised, ready to slash his throat properly. "You're not even a little sorry, are you," she surmised. "You're proud of what you did. You and the rest of them."

Before Kiho could respond, she sighed. "Whatever," she shrugged, slashing his throat decisively, not even flinching when she struck an artery and painted herself and the room with blood.

Slipping off the dying man's lap, she wiped her blade against her hip and reached for her phone.

Oh, Minjeong's texted me.

KMJ: [photo]
KMJ: Dongsikie-oppa wants them all to end up like this, okay? ^_~
KMJ: 파이팅 ^^

Jaeyi zoomed in on the photo, at her girlfriend's handiwork.

So he wants us to send that kind of message, huh.

She put her phone down and turned back to Kiho.

I wonder how hard it'll be to cut off.

Seokjae turned onto his back with a satisfied sigh, patting the curve of Jisoo's waist over the hotel duvet. "You're so much better at that than my wife," he yawned, exhausted.

Jisoo hummed in mock-thought, about to say something when she saw her phone screen light up. She reached across to her bedside table and turned from him to read it.

Oh, I should get up. He's coming.

"I won't be a moment," she took her phone and kissed Seokjae's cheek and got up, pulling on her silk slip and retreating to the washroom, unlocking the door to their room as she went.

Seokjae thought he heard her lock the washroom door. "Baby?" he called, still blinking the stars from his eyes.

The sound of the hotel door bursting open—

Seokjae nearly fell out of bed for the shock, clamouring to hide his nakedness from whoever had just burst in—

"Boss!" he exclaimed, trying to piece together what was happening.

Dongsik pinned him to the headboard with an unyielding grip on his throat. "You're my last stop of the evening," he grinned mirthlessly. "Aren't you lucky," he cocked his head, clicking his tongue. "What have you been up to, spending the night with one of my girls off-book?" he pretended to be disappointed. "You're always taking what's not yours," he applied more pressure, to Seokjae's gasping protestations. He clocked Seokjae trying to reach for the gun on the bedside, but he took it instead and pressed the barrel against his temple. "Too slow," he sighed, pulling the trigger.

After a long stretch of quiet, the washroom door unlocked.

"Come out, Jisoo-ya, he's dead," Dongsik called, the honey returned to his voice.

She obeyed, methodically picking up her clothes. "It's all done now?" she asked. "I did good, didn't I," she smirked. "He was delirious by the time you got here."

Dongsik kissed her cheek. "You did good," he agreed, wiping off the gun. "Are you alright? I know you liked him," he considered.

Jisoo pinched his cheek back with a little scrunch of her nose and began to dress herself, looking over the body. "Not as much as I like you and Joowonie," she shrugged. "It's just a job, you know. Keeping them company," she went on.

"Speaking of jobs," Dongsik helped her button the back of her dress. "What will you do with your hefty bonus, buy something pretty?" he asked.

"Mm, I think I'll send the money to my mother," she considered. "She refuses to move in with me, she's still in that shack by the sea," she sighed.

Dongsik smiled. "You're a good daughter," he praised her. "Here, have a little extra since you're going to send it all on," he handed her a small wad of cash.

With another little kiss to her cheek, Dongsik sent her off.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, gruffly shoving Seokjae's leg to the side to give him more room, he pulled out his phone.

LDS: it's done, aegiya
LDS: I'll be home soon

A reply came quicker than Dongsik anticipated.

HJW: good, come home and rest with me
HJW: I miss you

Dongsik tucked his phone away before rising and reaching for the knife secreted in his suit jacket pocket. "Once more unto the breach, huh," he sighed as he pulled back the bed sheet.

Chapter Text

Dongsik shut the door to their bedroom as quietly as he could— Joowon was sleeping soundly, a sight for which Dongsik was grateful. He slipped off his soiled and bloody clothes and unceremoniously piled them in the corner, content to wait until morning to burn the evidence of his evening's activities.

As careful as Dongsik was, the sound of rustling fabric stirred Joowon. "Mm…" he shifted in bed and turned onto his side, blinking slowly back to himself. "Dongsik—" he reached for him instinctively, and Dongsik was at his side in a moment. "You're alright," he exhaled slowly, relieved.

Dongsik pressed kisses across Joowon's face. "I'm alright," he repeated, the exhaustion at last hitting him, too. "Let me have a shower and wash the blood off and I'll come to bed," he held Joowon's chin in a loving hand.

"I like you stained red," Joowon grinned into a slow, deliberate kiss.

"I know you do," Dongsik nipped at his lip playfully. "But my sheets don't," he kissed him chastely before pulling back. "I won't be long."

Joowon pulled him close by the elastic of his boxers and kissed him again.

Warm.

He's so soft…

Dongsik woke to the feeling of Joowon's cheek pressed to the curve of his neck, his measured breathing against his skin a balm to the ache in his muscles for all the effort of the previous night. He drew Joowon closer by his pretty waist and kissed his crown. It's all over now. I won't let anyone ever touch you again.

You're mine.

Joowon stirred with a little sigh. "Morning," he murmured softly, blinking awake and seeing the room bathed in gold morning light. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," Dongsik turned onto his side and moved to hold Joowon's cheek, a slow thumb stroking his soft skin.

"You know, babies actually sleep horribly," Joowon countered with a little grin. He noticed a fleck of blood by Dongsik's ear that he'd somehow missed, licking his thumb and rubbing it off easily. "Have a bath with me," he decided, a hand resting at the elastic of Dongsik's boxers, pads of his fingers ghosting across the cut of his adonis belt.

An invitation.

"I missed a few spots, huh," Dongsik sighed, knowing where Joowon's mind was. "I was too tired for a more thorough job," he sat up in bed and pulled Joowon up with him. "Let's have a bath." He kissed him and ruffled his hair. "Let me take care of you, aegiya," he held his chin.

The evening air had a bite to it that not even Dongsik's usual brand of cigarettes could blunt. Still, he inhaled deeply. "I thought you quit ages ago," he gave Detective Oh a face as she lit one of her own.

She shrugged. "I quit all the time," she rolled her eyes and took a long drag as if to punctuate her point. "Thanks for making time for me, I've heard you've been quite busy these days," she remarked.

Her opening gambit.

Dongsik shrugged. "Anything for my lifelong friend," he replied with a little grin, baring teeth. "What's up?"

Detective Oh leaned against the cold brick of the noraebang's edifice. "Well," she played their game. "Someone's been cleaning house, it seems. We've had several bodies discovered in the last few days, all with similar causes of death and one very…" she cocked her head. "Odd signature."

"Odd?" Dongsik parroted, taking a drag. "What's odd, by you, these days?"

"As if you don't know," she scoffed, but there was a grin across her lips all the same. "Several members of your gang family have ended up dead and with their junk severed and stuffed down their throats," she came out with it at last. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" she tested. "Unless of course you don't have a handle on things, and this wasn't at your orders," she shrugged, the cigarette smoke hanging in the ether almost prettily.

Dongsik smirked. "I don't know what you're insinuating," he took a pointed drag himself. "But how nice for Head of Manyang Vice Oh Jihwa that the trash has taken itself out," he gave her a look.

Detective Oh playfully knocked shoulders with him. "How's your pretty boy, these days?" She was content to change the subject.

"He's good," Dongsik gave nothing away— news of the assault hadn't left the family and he'd wanted to keep it that way. "He's doing well," he nodded. He held her gaze expectantly. "Anything on your radar?"

"Nope," she shrugged. "How long has it been?"

"Almost six years," Dongsik replied, a fondness in his voice that Detective Oh found very sweet.

"Nothing's come up, as yet," Detective Oh flicked the butt of her spent cigarette off into the alley. "Which is surprising. Han Kihwan is nothing if not a major control freak. He must really have disavowed him completely," she shrugged. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know— if he comes sniffing around in your general direction, I'll deflect him," she promised.

Dongsik raised his nearly-done cigarette in a mock-cheers. "To childhood friends," he winked at her.

"To childhood friends," she nodded with a laugh, casting her gaze upward to the stars.

Chapter Text

a year later

Dongsik looked out at the sea of obedient faces —all new, of course, since last year's housecleaning incident— and proceeded to give out the orders for the week, with a hand resting lazily on one of Joowon's thighs, the youth's legs crossed prettily on the leather sofa next to him.

The men referred to him as young boss, now, not simply Joowon.

It was one of the first changes the pair had instituted when morning had come.

"That's all," Dongsik waved vaguely. "Good work."

"Thank you, boss!" the men chorused heartily as they declined their heads.

Dongsik dismissed them and rose to lock the door to the parlour behind them. This place, too, was new; having expanded their territory, they'd moved headquarters to a more spacious gambling establishment. "Takings were very good this month," he nodded to himself, coming back to sit next to Joowon.

"Mm," Joowon agreed, dancing a hand across his collar, flicking the little heart charm. It was a new one; the old one, his original, had been destroyed in the incident a year prior— but he loved this one just as much. "Yes, they were," he slipped a hand beneath Dongsik's suit jacket and fretted with the buttons of his shirtfront. "You know," he gave him a look. "We haven't properly christened the new office," he kissed along his jaw.

Dongsik grinned at Joowon's brazenness. "Have we not? How remiss of me," he turned and kissed him properly, a hand wrapped gingerly around his neck. He coaxed Joowon onto his lap and stripped him of his shirt, the soft fabric dropping onto the plush claret carpet, slow hands moving across his alabaster flesh, fingers reverently tracing the scars left by last year's incident. "My gorgeous boy," he praised, kissing down his neck. "I'll never get tired of looking at you."

"Dongsik…" Joowon flushed a little at the praise, a part of him still not quite used to the way Dongsik's devotion had never wavered— in his lowest moments, he did wonder whether he wasn't damaged goods, now, after what had been done to him, what he'd survived; and Dongsik's love still managed to surprise him. It was nice. He slipped a hand between them and palmed the older man teasingly, fretting with his belt buckle. "Put the chain on," he began to kiss down Dongsik's neck, rocking in his lap. "I want it on," he instructed, undoing Dongsik's shirtfront buttons and roaming his hands across the older man's strong chest.

Dongsik grinned against Joowon's cheek. "As you wish, aegiya," he maneuvered him up off of his lap and against the desk instead where he opened a drawer and took out the silver chain, the clink of the links pooling in his grip a sound that instantly made Joowon relax to hear it. Dongsik latched the chain to the youth's collar and stripped him of his trousers and boxers, running a sure hand between his thighs from behind. Joowon faltered against the desk where he braced himself. He heard the familiar flick of the cap of the little bottle of lubricant and sighed greedily as Dongsik began to massage him, pressing kisses down his back. Dongsik laughed softly against Joowon's neck to feel how the youth's thighs trembled as he pressed a second finger into him. "You feel so good, sweetheart," he cooed, movements unrelenting as he prepared him. Joowon groaned happily, pushing back, wanting more. He tugged a little on the chain, bringing his face back. "Tell me what you want, aegiya," he encouraged. "Use your words."

Joowon lolled his head back against Dongsik's shoulder, face flushed. "Stop teasing and fuck me, please, sarang," he caught his lips in a kiss, moaning softly. Dongsik nipped at his lip and Joowon snapped his teeth playfully in response.

"Cheeky," Dongsik tugged a little harder on the chain as he slipped his fingers from him and thrust into him without warning, wrapping his free hand around Joowon's chest, bracing him. "Oh, my darling boy…" he kissed down the back of his neck as he began to move, bucking his hips and tugging the chain in time, forcing a pretty cry from Joowon beneath him. "My favourite sound," he teased, his hand travelling up to part Joowon's lips, the pads of his fingers tracing the plush, pink flesh of him.

Joowon licked and sucked at Dongsik's fingers obediently.

Dongsik's phone screen lit up with a succession of texts.

Both men ignored it.

OJH: you'll never guess what I've heard

LDS: surprise me

OJH: a certain someone's father will be stepping down soon
OJH: I've heard he only has a few months left to live
OJH: apparently the old fucker kept his diagnosis from everyone until he had an incident in a meeting or something

LDS: I should buy a lottery ticket

OJH: anyway, chatter is that he's been asking for Joowon

LDS: the old man wants to make amends before god sends him to hell for his sins, huh
LDS: I'll tell Joowon the good news

OJH: oh, and one more thing
OJH: I'm surprised you didn't hear the news before I texted, actually
OJH: his private convalescence facility is right in the bounds of your territory since your expansion
OJH: so. I suppose I can look the other way if needs must

LDS: remind me to take you for a good meal soon, Jihwa-ya ^_~

OJH: just keep my precinct clean as usual, yeonggam

LDS: anything for you, detective (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

OJH: you shouldn't text so cute at our age

LDS: ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

Dongsik set down his phone and resumed buttoning his shirtfront.

"Who was it?" Joowon asked, cheeks still flushed prettily though he'd redressed himself. He rested his chin on Dongsik's shoulder expectantly.

"Our favourite cop," Dongsik replied, turning his face just so and kissing Joowon chastely, taking his hand and bringing them both back to the leather sofa. He sat him down and rested a hand on his thigh. "I have news," he began delicately, "about your father."

"Is that all," Joowon slid a slow finger along the cool gold chain around Dongsik's neck, a gift from him their third year together. "What does he want? Has he found me?"

Dongsik shook his head. "No, no— not exactly," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to think about how to explain the news he'd been given. He settled on letting Joowon read his texts with Detective Oh, handing him his phone.

He watched Joowon read the messages— scrolling a little, reading them twice over. "Hm," he managed, handing it back. "Well." Joowon's face was placid, unreadable— but for a little wrinkle between his brows.

Dongsik knew that look. "What would you like to do about it?" He asked after a moment.

Carefully.

Joowon shifted where he sat and rested his head properly against Dongsik's shoulder, taking the older man's hand and placing it atop his crown, wanting to be soothed. As Dongsik's fingers began to thread through his hair, he sighed. "I promised myself the next time I saw my father it would only be to witness his last breath," he spoke softly. "He beat me black and blue, did the same to my mother before sending her away. I hate him," he sank further into Dongsik's frame. "I have nothing to say to him."

Dongsik nodded, coaxing Joowon across his lap so he could hold him properly, fingers splayed across the small of his back, his thigh. "You don't have to say a word to him," he promised. "As for witnessing his last breath," he considered, kissing him chastely, "that can be arranged."

"What?" Joowon draped his arms lazily about Dongsik's shoulders. "You—"

Dongsik kissed him again. I know how much you hate him. I hate him, too. "Be a good boy and ask me, Joowon-ah," he held his gaze expectantly.

Joowon appeared to hesitate— just for a moment. "I want you to kill my father for me, Dongsik," he said at last.

Dongsik kissed him again. "Say please."

Joowon bent his head and kissed Dongsik then, open-mouthed and slow, deliberate. "Please," he murmured against the older man's lips.

"Of course, angel," Dongsik agreed, a hand slipping between them to tug playfully on the youth's collar.

I'll enjoy it.

It was pin-drop silent in the hospital, well past visiting hours— Dongsik and Joowon made their way toward his father's room, he nodded at the nurses at their station and he was met with knowing smiles and a nod with a chin in the right direction.

Expanding his territory certainly had advantages beyond the main.

They approached Han Kihwan's room, and Joowon hesitated— his fingers flexed in and out of a fist at his side.

Dongsik took his hand in his and squeezed. "Would you like me to handle this without you?" he asked.

Joowon cocked his head. "No, I just— it's been so long. And I still hate him so much, I…" he sighed. "I just needed a second, I think. I'm fine now," he nodded to himself and slid the door open, smooth on the track and noiseless but for the click of the lock behind them as they closed it after stepping inside.

There he was—

Small, as everyone always seems in a hospital bed, made smaller from the illness that had stripped so much flesh from him and left only grissle. His skin was no longer a healthy peach, but a pallid, dull almost-grey. His hair had gone nearly all white, no longer its once salt-and-pepper colouring.

Joowon hesitated at the foot of the man's bed.

Dongsik smoothed a hand down to the small of Joowon's back, saying nothing.

Supporting.

And then, as if on cue—

Han Kihwan's eyes fluttered open slowly, remaining half-lidded with fatigue. "You…" he rasped, a weak hand trembling as it raised just off the bed, an attempt at an accusation that fell flat. "Have you come crawling back, then?" he coughed.

Joowon couldn't help the puff of derisive laughter that escaped him at the notion of it. "Not as such, no, father," he replied, a part of him thoroughly enjoying to see how the man before him had been so diminished.

Han Kihwan's gaze shifted to Dongsik, and recognition passed briefly over his blurry eyes. "Get that thug out of here," he turned his head away in disgust.

It was Dongsik's turn to laugh. "This thug who's been bedding your precious son for the last six years?" he taunted, stepping closer. "Do you want me to leave, Joowon-ah?" he asked, pouting.

"No," Joowon replied, crossing his arms defiantly. "I've come to say goodbye to you, father," he explained.

"Goodbye—" Han Kihwan attempted to sit upright, but failed and slunk back down against the mattress. "What the hell does that—" he coughed again. "Get out, I'll ring for security," he reached for the call button, but Dongsik batted it from its perch on the side tray and it clattered to the floor. "You bastard—" he rasped.

Dongsik grinned his pretty, menacing, toothy grin. "No one's coming to save you, you know," he explained with a honey lilt in his voice. "This hospital…" he ran a slow hand across the length of the railing on his bed. "Belongs to me." He flicked his gaze between Han Kihwan and Joowon and back again, thankful that there was no physical resemblance between them whatever. "So. Now that we understand each other, I think it's time you had a chat with your son."

Han Kihwan scoffed, the effort of it making him choke. He hit his chest a few times in quick succession, trying to clear his lungs. "What the fuck do we have left to discuss?" he asked, venom dripping from his weak voice. "He's chosen sides, clearly."

"Yes, I have," Joowon stepped closer now, emboldened. "I've thought a lot about what I would say to you if we ever met again," he began slowly, measured. "I thought about asking why you hated mother so. Why you drove her to insanity and why you had her carted off to the sanitarium where she killed herself," he clenched his fists against the railings of his father's bed. "I thought about asking why you beat me black and blue for years, why you forced me into smaller and smaller boxes to fit your expectations," he shrugged. "But none of the why matters, not now. Not really. So. All this is, really," he ran a hand through his hair, feeling anger under his skin. "Is a final chance at an apology."

Dongsik rested his hand against the small of Joowon's back once more. "From you," he clarified cheekily. "To your son."

Han Kihwan turned onto his side, looking away. "Apology, huh," he coughed, wheezing. "Why should I? You should apologize to me for abandoning your duties to your family!"

"Family!" it was Joowon's turn to act incredulous. "You were never a father!" he sighed. "The day I walked out of your house was the best day of my life," he went on, composed. "I have nothing to do with you, not any more."

"And yet, here you are," his father spat icily. "Begging for an apology. Weak. Like your mother."

Joowon raised his hand as if to strike his father— but Dongsik stopped him, a hand on his arm. Their eyes met briefly— and Joowon lowered his arm. He looked back at his father. "I knew he wouldn't give me what I wanted," he spoke to Dongsik now, in a hushed, smooth voice. "I knew he'd never change."

Dongsik squeezed his hand in his. "It's my turn, then, isn't it," he felt for the little bottle and needle he'd brought in his pocket.

"Mm," Joowon confirmed, stepping back and giving Dongsik access to the various IV lines suspended by the wheeled machine at his father's bedside.

Han Kihwan blinked. "What's that—" he tried to get up, but again found that he had no strength for it. "What's—" he reached in vain for the call button. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked as Dongsik approached and flicked one of the bags, the clear solution sloshing lazily in response.

Dongsik moved with a precision Joowon had not seen before; for a passing moment he wondered fancifully if the man had previously studied nursing for how efficiently he hooked up the morphine needle to his father's saline port at his elbow. Han Kihwan tried to smack Dongsik away, but the morphine had begun to do its work and his hand fell limp against the bed. "Won't be long now, Joowon-ah," he cautioned. "Anything you want to say to him before it all goes dark?"

Joowon nodded, coming in close to his father's space and taking his cheek, turning his face toward him as he bent to his ear. "Let's not meet again, father," he hissed. "In this world or the next. Enjoy hell." He relinquished his hold of his father's face and watched as the old man's eyes glazed over, his breathing laboured, unable to speak. "Fuck you."

Dongsik took Joowon's hand once more and held it as they watched Han Kihwan take his last wheezing, little breath.

Somewhere, a clock was ticking.

In the back of Dongsik's town car, Joowon was once more thankful for its darkly tinted windows and the privacy afforded them both as he leaned into Dongsik's frame, his head pounding and his eyes red-rimmed from tears. "Thank you," he managed shakily, his lips pressed to Dongsik's neck.

Dongsik drew him closer and curled slow fingers through Joowon's hair as he reached into his pocket with his other, retrieving the youth's collar and snaking it around his neck, latching it locked. He felt Joowon instantly relax to have it back on. That's better now, isn't it. He pressed a kiss to Joowon's forehead. "Anything for you, angel," he replied.

Nothing more needed to be said.

There was no one else left in the world to whom Joowon might have considered himself bound to, now, but for the man who held him so lovingly.

And that was enough.