A low buzzing sound filled the large apartment with intrusive noise.

Kyungsoo was briefly startled by the sound but his ears perked instinctively in the direction of the bedroom. Curiously, he rose slowly from his desk and crossed the large space. Belatedly, he realized that the unfamiliar noise had been his cell-phone, lying long forgotten on his black wood nightstand.

With the delicacy of a feather he sat onto his bed, not disturbing a single wrinkle in the pristinely folded sheets, and tossed the small black device back and forth between his hands for a moment. He’d forgotten about the existence of the device for a while until this exact moment, but it wasn’t as if he had a long stream of missed messages to attend to – only the one.

It read:

The usual place? We need to discuss your plans for next year. – Mr. Kim Jongdae : 2:36 PM

His initial response was to sigh, but after a moment of stark contemplation he replied with an answer that was no less than a command.

3:15 – Sent : 2:37 PM

There was no response after that but Kyungsoo new Jongdae had gotten the message. He gathered the simplest of his items and changed into appropriate dress all in less than a minute. The only time he took leisurely was looking into the dark ceramic bowl by the window as he grabbed his car keys. As he looked into the dark water, the faintest of reflections was cast back from the pool and with a frown he noticed his skin was beginning to pale – more than the usual amount that was – and the areas surrounding his eyes were beginning to purple. It was when he noticed these things that the familiar sensation of burning sparked in the back of his throat and the pit of his stomach grew heavy again.

---

When Kim Jongdae pushed open the door of the small coffee shop, a familiar but overwhelming scent of coffee grinds flooded his senses and the steam from the machines filled his pores. His employer sat seated and isolated by the far window of the small establishment, coffee in hand but not drinking, and Jongdae slowly made his way to the small table.

Upon approach he cleared his throat with some expectation of being ignored, but as he removed his coat the equally small man turned to greet him politely.

“Mr. Kim,” he said with a nod. Too polite – as usual.

“Jongdae,” he corrected cheekily with a roll of his eyes.

“Ah, my apologies. I recall now that you told me this again in our previous conversation. You’ll forgive me, as it’s been so long since we’ve last spoken face-to-face.”

Jongdae’s eye twitched in slight annoyance. “Not that long.” He glanced down to the coffee in the other’s hand. “Not drinking as usual?”

The other sighed. “If it did not turn to ash on my tongue then believe me I would,” he pushed the hot cup across the small table toward the other. “But I’ve bought it for you rather, as a courtesy for our arrangement.”

Jongdae snorted through his nose, a rude noise. “An arrangement you call it when we both know this situation is outside of my control.”

Kyungsoo waved a hand toward the door with a plastic smile. “You’re free to leave my employment at any time, but I’d like to imagine we’ve become closer as friends in the past three years.”

“Friends? Not likely. Not with a thing like you.” He rolled his eyes again and sat more comfortably in his chair instead, but delightfully noted the change in the other’s eye. A hint of annoyance at his own discourtesy. It was small, but it was there. Jongdae waved off the gesture with his own hand. “Anyways, we both know my father will just reprimand me in the end and do your paperwork himself. At least this way I’ll get some commission.”

“Yes. I suppose that is so.”

Jongdae couldn’t help but to be irritated by his position.

It had been a long time since he’d met with Kyungsoo, and in that time he’d forgotten how irritating he found the other. There was the way he smiled, so fake, for one thing, but he’d always been especially irritated by the way he spoke – that archaic way of speaking that seemed so modernly condescending but was simply the over-politeness that came from an ancient etiquette he would never know. Nevertheless, for someone like Jongdae, who hated formalities, this particular client would never be his favorite. He longed to rip apart that perfect appearance the other put up, and constantly tried to irritate him whenever they met, despite his position.

Jongdae knew what Kyungsoo really was, for starters. That particular family secret had been his since childhood. But he had never found it in him to be quite afraid of the man, especially as he grew older. Because even as Jongdae changed, became a man, Kyungsoo never seemed to change. No, he knew the man would never age, never die, but he realized tha