"You do know you're ruining your perfect life, right?" Hyukjae asked, casually, as he handed the dark-haired male the small bottle of white pills. It wasn't like he cared - he had seen lives getting ruined before, and it wasn't his problem anyway. What these high class people did with their high class lives was none of his problems.

"I don't like perfect" the customer answered, sounding tired and annoyed. He kept glancing around himself, nervously, clearly afraid of getting caught. So he did care, Hyukjae thought, slightly amused. If he didn't, he wouldn't be so nervous about someone seeing him on the dimly lit alley with a stranger.

"You're kinda perfect, too" the male then continued absent-mindedly as he searched for the right amount of cash from his wallet. Hyukjae arched an eyebrow. That was unexpected.

"So you hate me too, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I want you though." He pulled a few hundred dollar bills out of his wallet, handing them to the dealer. Hyukjae took the money, folded it neatly and pushed it into the pocket of his leather jacket, cocking his head slightly.

"I thought you wanted the drugs."

"I need a little change. You could be my new drug."

Hyukjae chuckled. "I don't even know your name."

"Donghae." Well, that was easy. He grinned, amused, and stepped closer, eyeing Donghae's features with curiosity. The idea didn't sound that bad – the other was fit, had a beautiful face, soft brown eyes and was clearly from a high-class family, judging by the suit, so he didn't have to worry about diseases. If he had learned something during his years on the street, it was that rich people never had diseases.

"Well, Donghae" he then stated, wrapping his arm around his customer's waist, leaning closer to his ear. "Show me to your car, and I'll promise to show you the kind of ecstasy none of those pretty colourful pills could ever produce."