"I think she's ing someone else," Minho hoarsely whispers, his hand running through his gelled locks in distress.

Jinki freezes, his knife having yet to slice through his prime rib, and brings his gaze to Minho's. He looks disheveled as if he hasn't slept in days. If the dark bags under his eyes, visibly wrinkled shirt and absent pocket square weren't indication enough, he practically reeked of whiskey. Most likely the only sleep Minho had gotten was when he passed out in a booth at a gentlemen's club. He was another person. Almost completely unrecognizable. Except, Jinki noticed, for the way he was bouncing his leg and hands wringing his hands anxiously.

Jinki coughs quietly, his steak seemingly sticking to the back of his throat. He places his utensils to the side, finally realizing the gravity of the situation. "Do you know who?"

"Would that make his any better?!" Minho's fist slams against the table cloth as his voice raises over the small string quartet. A few couples turn their heads, pointedly staring, shaking their heads and muttering their disapproval. He could see Minho shrink in on himself, still in his right mind to be slightly embarrassed for his outburst but not nearly enough to drown out his fury.

Jinki smiles a tight lipped smile, extending small apologetic bows to those closest to them. "Forgive my friend." He chuckles, clasping Minho's shoulder, "One too many drinks can make even the most charming of men forget their manners, it seems." Minho nods next to him halfheartedly, a small smile of thanks gracing his face for the first time in ages.

Jinki was old money, his great-great-grandfather having established 2 out of the 3 largest steel manufactures in the country. His family was practically royalty and with that sort of reputation preceding him, Jinki had to be trained to uphold an image that met the family's standard. He had been raised with care, dozens of butlers and a handful of maids, each second of his early childhood having been planned years prior to his birth. He learned table etiquette before his ABC's, mastered proper diction instead of how to ride a bike, and was fluent in 3 languages before he was 12. This was what was expected of him. Jinki was to be exceptional because he WAS exceptional. It was all he knew. And so it was, that he knew what social niceties to utter to smooth over even the most impossible of situations, something Minho still struggled with considerably.

Being new money was hard. Minho didn't have much clothing, food, steady work, everything really when he was growing up. His father was a farmer, and when the winter of 1928 destroyed his crops and half of his land, died penniless and alone in the woods surrounding their house. Minho was nine by then, left with a small bowl of rice and nothing but the last note from his father tucked safely into the pocket of his worn out jeans to guide him. He worked where and when he could find it, determined to live a life his father would have been proud of, a life that would allow him to sleep with a belly full for once. It was that foolish determination, which allowed him to purchase his first piece of land at the young age of 19. It was foolish luck that he would strike the largest pocket of oil South Korea had ever seen. Soon he had a house, 3 square meals a day, and more money than Minho knew what to do with. Needless to say, he did not exactly fit in with the likes of many old money heirs his age.

Except Jinki, that is. Thiers was an unlikely friendship, but a good one none the less. Each of them filling in the holes the other seemed to miss. Jinki taught Minho how to properly address the members of the court, and in-turn Minho taught Jinki how to chop his own firewood. Each of them learning and growing in ways they had never before imagined.

Minho and Jinki left the restaurant, discreetly, choosing to walk the streets instead of flagging down a buggy. Only after a couple of blocks of silence did their conversation continue. Jinki was the first to speak, his breath puffing into thick clouds before him, "So, do you know?"

He bursts into tears, thick drops rolling down his cheeks and clinging to his lashes.

Jinki, startled, looks away to protect his dearest friend's dignity. For a man to cry, in public no less, was unheard of. He reaches out and pats Minho's back awkwardly. "I'm sure, it's nothing." He pulls out his handkerchief and offers it to the man beside him, “I’m sure of it. You're quit the catch. Gwiboon knows that. Everyone does." They stop in front of Minho's house, a dim light still shining through the second story window. “Stop spinning stories in that busy body head of yours."

Minho sniffles, and wipes furiously at his face with the back of his hands having been much too proud to accept Jinki's kerchief. “I saw Junghee." he manages between gasps of breath before the tears start again and Jinki tenses at the mention of his wife. “She was picking up a couple things down at the Piggly Wiggly. I thought it was for the party," Minho is frantic but still had a tendency to be incredibly descriptive, "You know, those silly little ones that all the girls like to have. They buy makeup and other trinkets. Gwiboon used to come home with her arms full." Minho chuckles turn into sobs as he continues, "She said she hadn't seen Gwiboon for months." His eyes are wide and red, pleading. "It's not you, right?" He was begging. "It's not you?"

__________

If Gwiboon was anything, she was a spitfire. Had been since the day he met her, in her short skirt and sleeveless, midriff top, laying on the beach with no male in sight. She had called him and his family an "annoying bunch of crooks with pockets that reached all the way to China." It wasn't until much later that he had heard from Junghee that Gwiboon was in the "import/export business" funneling in all sorts of forbidden contraband from the West. And with every flying rumor he heard about her the more he was drawn in.

They met, officially, at an open gallery. She was staring at an out of the way, monotone piece hanging in the back of the studio, everyone seemingly keeping their distance.

Jinki mousyed along beside her holding two glasses of champagne. "A bit strange to see you here. I heard you had a satanic ritual to attend." He passed her a flute and took a sip from his own.

She snorted. "The event has become so incredibly blasé, I simply could not be bothered." She turned to him, sliding her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. "And you Mr. Jinki? For what do I owe this pleasure?'

He took another swig, with eyes still glued to the frame in front of them, and mumbled, "I need a favor."

__________

The more Jinki imported, the closer he and Gwiboon became.

"Your girlfriend is so lucky, Mr. Jinki." Gwiboon swooned as she held the satin dresses to her frame and spun around the room. "You'll spoil her rotten."

Jinki gulped loudly, as if he could actually push down his nerves with such a trivial action. "Actually," he began as Gwiboon stopped spinning and cocked her head curiously, "it's not for Junghee." He bunched his hands with the fabric of his slacks and kept his gaze on the Oriental rug Minho had begged him to bring back on his business trip to China.

"Oh?" She didn't say anything further and neither did Jinki, his momentary courage disappearing as fast as it had appeared. Gwiboon slid her hand across his and cradled it gently in her lap. "It's okay, Mr. Jinki. I won't tell anyone." She smiled sweetly at him and in a hushed voice added, “We all have our secrets."

__________

The first time Gwiboon met her was an accident. Minho had asked her to swing by Jinki's house.

"He's got a package for me in the dining room." Minho had kissed her chastely on the lips and a couple of teenage passersby hooted with glee.

"You stop that nonsense. Do not steal kisses from a woman, Mr. Minho. It does not become you."

Minho laughed. "You are not just any woman, Ms. Gwiboon. You are mine."

"I am no one's."

He jogged in front of her, taking both of her hands in his, "Then I will be yours."

"You are an easy man, Mr. Minho." She removed her hands from his and shook a stern finger at him, "Nobody will buy the cow if they can get the milk for free."

He stopped and guffawed at that, falling even further behind her. "Then why don't you marry this old cow, Ms. Gwiboon?" He shouted.

She folded her arms across her chest and yelled back, "Because a foolish cow does not a good husband make." She starts to walk off but just cannot seem to stop herself from saying one last thing. "That is the absolute worst proposal I've ever heard, Choi Minho! You had best come up with something better next time."

Minho screamed even louder after her, "Did you just propose to me, Ms. Gwiboon?"

Gwiboon stayed silent, opting to continue to trudge down the street in complete and utter annoyance. Minho had been the only decent bachelor she had met. He was handsome, had a steady income, and if she was being completely honest, his complete unadulterated admiration was much too hard to ignore. She would make him wait just awhile longer, as punishment for this past fiasco, she decided as she crossed the street to a parked buggy, before she would even entertain the idea of marriage again.

__________

Gwiboon was still seething as she walked up to Jinki's doorway. She opened the door with the spare Junghee had reluctantly given her. "Only for emergencies" She had emphasized, "Jinki can be an absolute animal sometimes."

A small shout knocked her from her reverie and into a slight panic. She wandered down a dark hallway, "Junghee," she fervently whispered into the darkness. "It's Gwiboon." As she passed a small table, she grabbed a candlestick just in case, "Are you okay?" she continued as she journeyed further into the house. "I thought I heard a-."

Gwiboon stood in the doorway of the master bedroom her eyes not quite comprehending what, exactly, she was seeing. She dropped her mundane weapon, the heavy silver object dropping to the floor with a loud bang.

She stood up, wearing that red satin dress Gwiboon had envied ages ago in her bedroom, her coal lined eyes and deep cherry lips rounded in surprise.

"I'm so sorry!" Gwiboon shouted, as if she had been caught in a home burglary and was not, in fact, just on an errand. "Minho said there was a package." She was frazzled and trying to string together as many comprehensive sentences as possible for an attempt at normalcy. "He thinks we're getting married! Can you believe that?" she laughed too loudly and slapped her knee. "I'm sorry!" She turned to leave but was stopped by a warm, familiar pair of hands.

"Don't tell anyone." She said, voice strained and wavering with fear. "Please."

She grabbed her hands tightly in hers, looking her straight in her beautiful, honey-brown eyes and muttered, "It's okay, Mr. Jinki. I won't tell anyone. We all have our secrets."

__________

"It's an entire movement! Isn't that something?" Gwiboon exclaimed as she busied herself with flattening the pleats along Jinki's waist. "That's what my friends in the Americas tell me, anyway." She stared at her friend in the mirror, a pout tugging at the corners of . "It's missing something, isn't it?" She sighed exasperatedly and throwing her hands in the air.

"Why are you doing this, Gwiboon?" Eunsook asked, their eyes meeting through the mirror.

She saw Gwiboon shrug and move to stand behind her. "You were my first friend." She combed her fingers through Eunsooki's wig, brushing it to one side before resting her chin on her shoulder. "Even with all of those nasty little rumors floating around."

"I once heard you were an actual succubus." Eunsook grinned mischievously, "Collecting your lover's in jars that lined your basement."

"Oh, god." Gwiboon giggled burying her head in Eunsook's chest. "That's it!" She exclaimed running out of the room and back in a matter of seconds, one grapefruit in each hand. "You need !" Gwiboon fastened them into place and took a step back. She clasped her hands in front of her and her eyes began to fill up with tears. "You look really, really great." She sniffled starring at the stunning woman in front of her. "I mean it. The absolute cat's pajamas."

Eunsook beamed, her fingers tracing each jewel along her waist. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Gwiboon stepped towards her, wrapping her arms around the taller girl's neck. Her gaze slowly dropped to Eunsook's lips, stained blood red and so lusciously full any girl would be envious. She flicks her gaze to Eunsook's words rushing out of before she had a chance to overthink them, "Can I kiss you?"

Eunsook closes her eyes, all shallow breaths and crimson cheeks as she nods her head.

Gwiboon can feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, heart thrashing against her chest. She tentatively leaned in, placing a small, quick peck on Eunsook's lips. She kissed her again, this time lingering a little longer, enjoying the way it makes the older girl gasp. She moaned, as she pulled back missing the warmth of already. "Eunsook," Gwiboon breathed into her ear, teeth nibbling against her neck, "It's almost eight."

Eunsook grunted in acknowledgment and frustration. "Just a little longer."

Gwiboon laced their fingers together and squeezed tight. "We don't have any more time." She kissed her one last time, tenderly her cheek and pulled away. "Minho'll be here in a couple of minutes. Junghee will wonder where you've been."

She shook her head slightly from side to side. "I don't want to go back. Not yet, Gwiboon."

Gwiboon hugged her lover to her , tears streaming down both of their faces. "I know, Eunsook. I know."

"Junghee loves Jinki and I'm not him."