“It’s all just getting either really bad or really good, and really fast,” Jaebum’s voice shakes Kunpimook out of his reverie, and he takes a hesitant bite out of his food to cover up for it. It’s the third time he’s having lunch with all five of them (Yugyeom included) and somehow, the prior experience makes him no less nervous.

“Yes, but the market in Asia’s going to , and that’s where we’ve got a lot of resources holed up-…” Jackson sounds a little annoyed, food barely touched.

“Those stocks should’ve gone to the Middle East when you had the chance,” Jinyoung remarks, then, wryly, and Mark cuts in before Jackson can reply.

“No point talking about it now,” he says deftly, because Jackson’s looking increasingly irritated by the second. “Besides, a majority of those are concentrated in Singapore and Hong Kong, and their currency hasn’t failed us yet. Don’t be so pessimistic.”

He sneaks a look at Yugyeom across the table, on Jaebum’s left, who’s apparently unaffected by the happenings, chewing indifferently on his steak, and wonders if Jaebum and Jinyoung are like this all the time.

“Bambam,” Jinyoung says all of a sudden from his left, voice softer and mellower than it’d been just moments before, and Kunpimook jumps a little. Over their private conversation, Jaebum continues to boom suggestions out at Mark and Jackson. “How’s work been? I feel awful, sometimes, that you’re left out of these important conversations all the time. I’d been hoping you’d get along better with Yugyeom, you know.”

Oh, they’d be surprised at how well we’re “getting along”.

“Oh, work’s fine,” he supplies a smile. “Just got promoted last week, actually, I’ve never been happier-…”

“But I’m sure you must be so tired from all that slave labour,” Jinyoung coos, apparently not interested in how’s work been. “Why don’t you come for one of our parties this weekend? Jaebum’s holding a little gathering- just, you know, celebrating anniversaries and all, and it’d be so lovely to have you along.”

“I’d love to,” Kunpimook’s feeling a little odd, honestly- they usually invite him through Jackson. He wonders why Jinyoung’s being so personal, all of a sudden, and apparently Yugyeom notices it too, because when Kunpimook looks back, he’s fixing his food with an imperceptible frown, lips set in a thin line across his face.

“That’s great,” Jinyoung says, eyes crinkling into a rather dazzling smile, slender fingers curling around Kunpimook’s narrow wrist like ivy. “You have to come, really, Jackson will be there, of course, and Yugyeom too-…”

“You say that like I’ve already agreed,” Jackson scowls over, then, and Kunpimook doesn’t miss the way Mark nudges him in the thigh subtly, expression unchanging.

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Jackson,” Jinyoung says, a little impatiently, then. “Look, even Bambam’s already agreed to come-…”

“You did?” Jackson raises a dubious eyebrow in Kunpimook’s direction, and for a moment he’s taken aback, caught between the intense stares of the two men on either side of him, and a sweat breaks on his forehead, mind fumbling for words to say.

“I-…I didn’t-…”

“Then again,” a smooth voice cuts through Kunpimook’s stutters, and all eyes turn to Yugyeom at once. “Bambam here wasn’t privy to the fact you hadn’t already agreed to come, Jackson-hyung.”

Jackson seems to seethe silently for a moment, then, but simmers down rather quickly, shrugging to save face. “Alright, fine, I’ll go.”

Jaebum and Mark are now engaged in an obscure conversation and Jackson seems intent on returning to his food without second thought. Kunpimook’s eyes dart to Yugyeom’s in a momentary silent burst of thanks, but then Yugyeom’s looking down at his food, a warning sign, and he feels another pair of eyes on the side of his face.

“Tell me,” and Kunpimook’s reminded of that quality he’d been enlightened to about Jinyoung’s voice the first time he’d heard him laugh, the way it sounds clear and jagged at the same time, like there’d once been crystal in the way he spoke, but it’d long been reduced to worthless, deadly shards of glass. He looks into the man’s eyes, glinting like razors in the redundant, flickering candlelight, and nods, trying hard not to swallow in apprehension. “Did you ever meet up with Yugyeommie after that night? On your own?”

Kunpimook’s breath catches in his chest. “We bump into each other, on occasion,” he says, with a tight smile.

Jinyoung leans away, then, smiling brightly to reveal a set of perfect, white teeth. “That’s wonderful.”

It’s not, actually. JYP Industries and the Wang Corporation are on opposite ends of the central business district.

“I hope so?” Kunpimook adds an upward inflection to his last word to seem unsure, though he’s well and truly uncomfortable at this point. “I’d love to know more about him.”

“You hear that, Yugyeommie?” Jinyoung calls over the table, and Yugyeom responds accordingly, with a mildly raised brow. “You and Bambam would make the perfect pair, I’m sure. Just wait till the party this weekend,” he clasps his hands together, fingertips, manicured to a professional sheen, seemingly glowing softly. “You’ll be stuck like glue, affirmative.”

“Stop that, Jinyoungie, you’re making them uncomfortable,” Jaebum, apparently done with his conversation with Mark, joins in bluntly, and Jinyoung pouts in response.

Kunpimook doesn’t tune in to whatever Jinyoung has to say to appease his more powerful partner, instead returning to his food, not daring to make any further eye contact with Yugyeom. They’d long established the possibly disastrous results of either Jaebum or Jackson discovering their more-than-acquainted relationship- too much bad blood exists between the two business heads for anything like this to end well.

 Apparently, Yugyeom seems to think the same way, because not a single comment is exchanged between them for the rest of the night.

*

However, things cool down almost too quickly after that. Kunpimook pesters Yugyeom with worried texts but it seems like Jinyoung’s forgotten completely about that night, because he’s going about everything as per normal. Maybe it’s them, maybe they’re the ones being too incessantly worried, but then again, with people like Jaebum’s crowd, you can never tell.

But somehow Kunpimook feels brave enough to chance another visit to Yugyeom’s apartment, this time after work, on the Friday before the party. It’s the same delusion of invincibility that’d driven him to pick up this relationship in the first place, after all, and it drives him to this day. Especially, he notes, where Yugyeom is concerned.

Kunpimook sprawls out on the comfortably deep bed once he hears the shower start, fingers absently delving beneath a soft, plumped pillow to pull out a certain book, a book Yugyeom had apparently taken pains to hide from him the previous time he’d come here.

They’d had a short dinner, mostly punctuated by Yugyeom’s grievances on how Kunpimook was going to kill them both like this, and Kunpimook’s hand had accidentally swept across the table in his defence, tipping a cup of sweetened tea over the table onto Yugyeom’s shirt.

So now, at perfect liberty to do so, he props himself neatly on Yugyeom’s bed, prying open the curiously elusive book and its secrets, apparently valuable enough that Yugyeom would want to hide it.

-Jordan Baker instinctively avoided clever shrewd men and now I saw that this was because she felt safer on a plane where any divergence from a code would be thought impossible-

Kunpimook reads on impatiently, following the lilac lines with interest.

-She was incurably dishonest. She wasn’t able to endure being at a disadvantage, and given this unwillingness I suppose she had begun dealing in subterfuges when she was very young in order to keep that cool, insolent smile turned to the world-

He flips on, seeing more lines pass by in the older, faded indigo highlighting that he barely manages to glimpse in his haste.

-I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires...-

-I was within and without. Simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life-

One by one they seem to blow the covers off another facet to Yugyeom’s heart and mind, and slowly Kunpimook starts to arrange the pieces in a delicate order, painstakingly rediscovering something he’d thought he knew so well.

-It's a great advantage not to drink among hard-drinking people. You can hold your tongue, and, moreover, you can time any little irregularity of your own so that everybody else is so blind that they don't see or care.-

The shower door opens, and Kunpimook flips just a bit more, one last desperate spurt in the hungry pursuit of understanding, and he catches one last quote. Somehow, then, something tells him it’s the first thing that’d been highlighted in this book- perhaps something about the unevenness to the lines, the hesitance with which it had been done, gives it away. Either way, it intrigues him to the point of recklessness.

I tried to go then, but they wouldn’t hear of it; perhaps my presence made them feel more satisfactorily alone.

“Unbelievable,” Yugyeom comments dryly, and Kunpimook looks up, conspicuously sliding the book back under Yugyeom’s pillow with his most charming smile. He props his chin up with his free hand in the meantime, blinking prettily up at Yugyeom.

“Do I look out of place here?” he asks with a cheeky smile, but then his breath betrays him, hitching a little as Yugyeom draws too close a little too quickly, but then leaning away again, this time with the book in his hand. He rubs a towel into his hair with the other, sending a derisive smile in Kunpimook’s direction.

“And you said I plotted,” he mutters, setting the book on a shelf, before tossing the towel onto the back of his desk chair and walking back over to the bed, settling onto the soft duvet with a soft whoosh sound. “How you’ve managed to survive till now, I’ll never understand.”

“I happen to have excellent friends in higher places,” Kunpimook rolls automatically into Yugyeom’s lap, satisfied when the younger man tenses a little at the action. “You might’ve heard of them.”

“I’m sure,” Yugyeom settles a cautious hand on the side of Kunpimook’s face, cool fingers tracing delightful patterns along his cheek. “Just why,” he says, with a disdain that doesn’t invoke guilt in the slightest, “are you so interested in that book?”

“It’s precisely because you don’t want me near it,” Kunpimook snaps his fingers. “I figure you’ve got something big to hide.”

Yugyeom laughs. “Everyone’s got things to hide. Mine just aren’t as interesting as theirs.”

“I object,” Kunpimook pillows his head comfortably on Yugyeom’s thigh. The folds of his slim dress shirt are pressing uncomfortably into his skin, a contrast to the t-shirt and shorts Yugyeom had thrown on after his shower, and for a moment he envies him. “I think you’ve got everything in the world to hide.”

“Why’s that?” Yugyeom shifts Kunpimook’s head, nudging him with his knee, and Kunpimook moves over obligingly, till they’re sitting cross-legged on the bed, knees touching. “I don’t think I’m a very remarkable person.”

“You don’t have to be remarkable to have someone be interested in you,” Kunpimook argues, and Yugyeom lets out a low chuckle.

“Is that so?”

“I’m hurt you’d think otherwise,” Kunpimook chooses to sprawl into Yugyeom’s pillow, then, ignoring the owner’s protest of do you not understand personal space. “You’re making me feel like all these months have come to nothing.”

“When you put it like that,” Yugyeom runs a hand along the length of Kunpimook’s arm, slowing down when their fingers touch, before he withdraws it abruptly to look at the clock. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Kunpimook yawns, already used to this ritual. “And yes, I wouldn’t mind staying.”

“Now that’s just rude,” Yugyeom says dryly, as he begins to roll Kunpimook off the bed. “Go take a shower. And stop violating my pillow.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Kunpimook says gravely to the pillow, before he’s trundled off the bed like a barrel, squalling in indignity when he hits the floor.

He emerges from the shower ten minutes later in a set of Yugyeom’s clothes, feeling ridiculously small.

“In another life this would be extremely romantic,” he announces, plucking at the shirt, which hangs off his shoulders like a flag. “But it’s really just very cold.”

Yugyeom laughs, beckoning him to come over- Kunpimook doesn’t miss the book he slides under the bed, nor the clean lilac highlighter on the bedside table. “I can think of ways to warm you up.”

“Ew, you did not,” Kunpimook makes a face, sliding onto the bed and into Yugyeom’s arms nonetheless. “That was disgusting. Take it back.”

“Can’t,” Yugyeom says lazily, running a hand through the tangles in his freshly wet hair. “You can’t take back the truth.”

“Should I be alarmed,” Kunpimook makes himself comfortable, dragging up the covers to swathe them both in fabric. It’s true, he admits grudgingly- Yugyeom is nicely warm. He wonders when it is they’d decided this level of contact was acceptable, in the relationship they have now, because it doesn’t need a genius to say that what they have is unorthodox, and impossible to categorise. But like many other things, he takes it in his stride and learns to work with it. Besides, if he’s to be honest, it isn’t particularly unpleasant, it might be nice, even (but you didn’t hear that from him).

“Yes,” Yugyeom yawns. He lets a comfortable silence stretch, then before continuing hesitantly, “about the party tomorrow…”

“Mm…?” Kunpimook’s eyelids had been drooping shut, but something about Yugyeom’s tone makes him tense a little.

“Nothing much,” Yugyeom says hastily, running another large, warm hand down the older man’s shoulders and back. “Did Jackson say anything to you about it?”

“No…? I think he’s going to try and say he forgot about it,” Kunpimook stretches his legs out, disappointed when he can’t feel Yugyeom’s feet under the blanket, even in their current position. “Why? Planning a tryst?”

Yugyeom doesn’t respond at first, seemingly deep in thought. It’s clear, though, later when he speaks, in a careful, concise way, that he’d merely been contemplating how to phrase his words.

“The reason why Jinyoung-hyung asked you first,” he says cautiously. “It’s because he wanted to put Jackson in a spot later about coming to the party. Jackson didn’t want to, at first- I think Jackson’s more pissed with Jaebum-hyung than he has been in a while because hyung won over a couple of contracts recently that were supposed to go to him, and he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of going to their party.”

Kunpimook doesn’t know what to say, for a moment. “Does Jinyoung do stuff like this often?”

“Jinyoung-hyung?” Yugyeom sounds a little incredulous. “This is the tip of the iceberg, if you ask me. He managed to convince Jaebum-hyung to allocate a giant portion of their resources to his company when they were restructuring, once- loads of workers got laid off, rumours spread like wildfire, and Jaebum’s company suffered huge losses in the global market. He could afford it, sure, but still,” Kunpimook doesn’t like the way Yugyeom seems to lose control of the way he speaks when he talks about Jinyoung, like he’s just as panicked and unsure as Kunpimook is. And he’s known Jinyoung for so much longer, too. “It’s crazy, the way he can make Jaebum-hyung do anything he wants.”

“Hey, stop that,” Kunpimook pushes at Yugyeom’s shoulder lightly. “You say that like you’ll be tangled up in it all. Hands clean and fists up, remember?”

Yugyeom chuckles drily. “Jaebum-hyung might be a real , but he’s still my cousin,” he gives a wry smile. “I grew up with him, you know- my mom thought the habits from the rich side of the family might rub off on me,” he tugs the blankets up, covering a part of Kunpimook’s arms that’d previously been exposed to the cool bite of the air-conditioning. “They did, I guess. Just not in the way she would’ve wanted.”

It’s a tiny revelation of Yugyeom’s childhood, and Kunpimook treasures it with both hands.

“I think you turned out alright,” he leans up with a mischievous smile. “Would’ve helped to have some of those good looks rub off on you, though-…”

Yugyeom delves a deft hand under the blankets, then, and it takes the older man about half a second to realise what’s about to happen, but by then, it’s too late, and he squeals, jerking away from Yugyeom across the bed.

The extent of Yugyeom’s strength only presents itself on select occasions, and as those long arms reach across the space and drag Kunpimook back easily, almost lazily, even, to pin him to the bed and tickle him until he gives in and begs for mercy, he decides that this is one of them.

He knows Yugyeom hates being compared to Jaebum, but it’s in that moment Kunpimook sees a trait they unmistakeably share- the single-minded, overpowering desire that throbs through their veins and heart to fully control, to monopolise, except that while Jaebum establishes his control publicly, Yugyeom channels it on an unspoken level, one that reaches out with saccharine fingers and chains those unfortunate enough to pass by willingly to his soul.

Yugyeom offers to take the couch for the night, but by some means they both end up accidentally falling asleep as they are, talking about nothing until coherence leaves them as they slip into slumber. Yugyeom knocks off first- and Kunpimook can’t be bothered to get up and move, so he follows suit a few minutes later.

And honestly, as he drowsily recounts the built up of events from day one till now, it isn’t as bad as he’d thought it be.

*

The “little gathering” Jinyoung had mentioned turns out to be the biggest party Kunpimook’s ever been to in his life. And he’s been to a lot of parties.

He wonders, mutely, as he’s milling through crowds of important people, if Jaebum had been trying to break some world record or something, because this level of decadence is honestly verging on insane. He’d thrown the party at one of the chains of hotels he’d bought over, making use of the ridiculously luxurious ballroom and pool facilities, giving out hundred-dollar bottles of champagne as door gifts, and had apparently booked out all the rooms for a portion of the more personal guests for the night.

“Bambam!” a steely grip closes on his arm, and he’s dragged over by Jinyoung, obviously dressed to impress for the night. His eyes are traced, glittering, even, under the purposefully dim light, hair newly cut and styled for the event, everything done by professionals, and Kunpimook’s sure that if he totals up the worth of his stellar outfit (not including the gleaming silvery watch he always wears, a gift from Jaebum, he’s sure) it’d come to about a year and a half’s wages. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You look wonderful tonight, you really do-…”

Kunpimook’s quite sure Jinyoung hadn’t been looking everywhere for him until he’d happened to bump into him a few seconds ago, nor does he think Kunpimook looks wonderful, not next to Jinyoung himself, but the older man has a manner of speaking that charms the listener into a state of what can only be described as blissful atrophy, so they don’t process a thing he says until he dances away to cast a spell over someone else. And by this time, of course, it’s too late, and Jinyoung’s already taken what he wants from them right under their noses.

“Jackson sends his apologies, he has something to attend to, but he’ll be coming later tonight,” Kunpimook tries to say over the sound of people talking and laughing and the music of the famous jazz band Jaebum had hired to perform onstage.

“Oh that’s alright, then,” Jinyoung says distractedly, seeming to be looking in the crowd for someone. “Yugyeommie!”

Yugyeom, of course, appears when called, mildly surprised at the sight of Jinyoung and Kunpimook together. He’s even more surprised when Jinyoung pushes the younger boy towards him, with a little laugh that sounds both magical and disturbingly condescending.

“Entertain our guest, won’t you Yugyeommie?” Jinyoung’s eyes are already on another guest, attention forever flitting from one open heart to another. “And help me find Jaebum! He’s left me to attend to our guests all by myself, that selfish-…”

And he’s swept away by the tide of million dollar men and women, much to Kunpimook’s relief.

“Uhm,” he avoids the swinging fists of a passing couple, obviously drunk beyond belief. “Hey.”

Yugyeom smiles, the sight reassuringly familiar to Kunpimook. “Hey. Want a drink?”

“Sounds good,” he forces a grin. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

“I passed some smoked salmon canapes on the way here, too, you’ve got to try them,” Yugyeom guides them on smoothly towards the finger food table, and Kunpimook’s inexplicably relieved at the thought of getting out of here- the room’s overpowered by the scents of a thousand different perfumes and colognes, and his toes have been trodden on at least thrice within the last twenty minutes. “By the way, I think Jinyoung’s serious about us finding Jaebum-hyung, I haven’t seen him anywhere so far tonight.”

“Is he always this clingy?” Kunpimook mutters, plucking a tart deftly from the tray of a passing waiter and popping it into his mouth. “The last time at the restaurant, too, the moment Jaebum left to take that phone call, he looked like the world was about to end.”

“He’s got good reason to,” Yugyeom remarks, taking a flute of champagne from the ones set out on the glossy black minimalist banquet table and handing it to him. “The door to the foyer’s this way- maybe he’s on the mezzanine.”

“Great,” the older man grumbles, taking a generous sip from his drink. “I can’t wait to get out of this place.”

*

This place turns out to be ridiculously huge.

“I swear,” Kunpimook complains. “I could do a tour of the grounds every day for exercise.”

“Jaebum-hyung likes his toys big,” Yugyeom steers Kunpimook away from the fountain, where someone (who’s apparently decided the pool was too mainstream) has appropriated it and started splashing everyone that comes within a metre radius. “Don’t say it.”

“Wasn’t going to.”

“Liar.”

“We could look in the suites,” Kunpimook suggests, nodding towards the lifts in the lobby. “He might’ve gotten so drunk someone brought him in his room.”

“I need another drink,” Yugyeom sighs, as they load into an elevator. “Jinyoung-hyung better really need some help.”

The doorman holds out his hand, presumably for their cards, and Kunpimook reaches for his but Yugyeom cuts him off.

“You don’t have clearance,” he mutters to the older boy, before clearing his throat, handing over a card, embossed in a significantly more expensive looking gold and black than Kunpimook’s plain bronze card. “I’m looking for Jaebum-ssi, he’s in the presidential suites.”

The doorman seemingly doesn’t have a problem with Yugyeom going wherever he likes in this hotel, but he casts a questioning glance in Kunpimook’s direction, eyes searching the younger man’s ones for confirmation.

“He’s with me,” Yugyeom gestures. The doorman hesitates, so he adds for effect: “Jinyoung sent us.”

Jinyoung sent us apparently works wonders, because they get a ride up straight away, no further questions asked. The doorman even adds a have a nice evening after they get out.

“Must be great, having your own hotel,” Kunpimook remarks. “Be nice if Jackson would stop investing in oil refineries and get his hands on one of these.”

“Nah, I don’t think he wants to have anything to do with whatever Jaebum does,” Yugyeom seems to know where he’s headed, because he walks purposefully down the corridor.  “Wait till he gets an onsen. Then you’re inviting me.”

“I don’t think that’s up to us, now, is it?” Kunpimook laughs, as Yugyeom stops outside the door at the end of the hallway.

“Hyung?” he knocks, three sharp sounds against the polished wooden door. There’s no reply. “Hyung, if you’re in there, I’m coming in, Jinyoung’s looking for you.”

Kunpimook’s about to question how Yugyeom thinks he’s going to get in when he takes out that same black and gold card, slotting it into the hotel door, before a soft green light above the slot flashes.

“He gave you his room card?” he’s a little incredulous. Yugyeom shrugs, cautiously pushing the door open.

“It’s a skeleton key, of sorts,” he stows it carefully in his jacket again. “I’m usually the one in charge of dragging him back from whatever place he’s passed out in when he gets drunk,” he mutters, looking into the brightly lit place. There’s no sign of life, just a hallway leading to a living room full of splendour. “I guess he’s really not here.”

Kunpimook steps aside as Yugyeom moves to shut the door, just about to make some comment about how Jackson ought to give him some privileges too, for calling his chauffeur to drive his drunk home every time after a party, when he swears he sees something move out the corner of his eye, darting quickly across the hall to the adjacent rooms, followed by the faint, stifled sounds of light laughter.

“Hey, uhm,” he nudges Yugyeom, frowning a little. “Who else can get up here?”

“No one,” Yugyeom’s just shut the door. “There are three presidential suites, so Jaebum booked the whole floor for him and Jinyoung. Why?”

“I saw someone, heading over to the suite over there,” Kunpimook points, taking a few steps forward. “Is it possible to get here without passing the doorman?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom’s following, pace urgent and his brow creasing. “Bribes,” they round the corner, just in time to see someone scuttle into the room at the end of the corridor. “Excuse me,” he calls out, voice carrying easily, even in the lengthy space, as they near the suite. “You don’t have clearance to be up here-…”

“Yugyeom,” someone’s voice rings out, authoritative and clear, and Yugyeom stops so fast Kunpimook walks right into him from behind. Half-dazed and rather annoyed, he peers over Yugyeom’s shoulder, touching his nose gingerly to make sure it isn’t broken. His heart seems to stop, though, when someone reappears from the doorway.

It’s Jaebum, tie loosened and hanging around his neck, barely covering up the fact that the top three buttons of his dress shirt have been undone. A split second’s further observation shows his belt’s unbuckled, too, hanging open from the loops, and Kunpimook instinctively takes a step back in alarm.

.

“Sorry, hyung, I didn’t realise-…Jinyoung wanted to find you and I-…” Yugyeom’s stammers are interrupted by another voice, a whine, almost, from inside the room, and Kunpimook’s struck by the familiarity of it for a second.

“Hyung, who is it? Who’s that?”

“We’ll go now, sorry hyung,” Yugyeom’s grip around Kunpimook’s wrist is bruising, almost, as he turns around and almost drags him from the place, and the older boy stumbles after him, ankle twisting in his haste. Over the sound of their shoes against the carpet, he can hear Jaebum’s reassurances, sickeningly soothing compared to his usual domineering tangents.

“It’s no one, Jae. They’re nobody.”