Chanyeol must have told him, who had known about it from Jongin. There was no other explanation on why his brother appeared out of nowhere in front of his door. He had already visited the day before and told Taemin he’d be too busy with band practice to return too soon, so why had he greeted him that evening? He could have at least given him a call, yet, there he was, smugly sitting opposite of them, scrutinizing their every move – even the way Taemin held back from huffing and puffing, fuming silently next to a rather confused Jongin.

Said Jongin had the opportunity to study the one Taemin called 'brother' in the hallway.

When he first entered the living room, Jongin noticed there wasn’t much of a height difference between the two. Heechul had an extra two-three centimeters above his brother. They both inherited the high cheekbones and the plump lips, yet Heechul’s eyes were bigger than Taemin’s, puffier, shaped almost like a feline’s. Snowflakes adorned for a second his disheveled black hair reaching his shoulders, matched with his fingerless black gloves, black jacket, black T-shirt and black jeans. A silver chain disappeared under his T-shirt. On his back – a guitar case. When he bowed and shook hands out of courtesy, Jongin was surprised at his tight grip.

On the armchair, he exuded an unmatched confidence from his straight posture and his calculated expression. It’s not that Jongin hadn’t met someone alike – it was a common occurrence – but he could swear Heechul was watching them like a predator. He wondered if he should remove himself for the night and head home before he’d pounce him. When their gazes locked, he swore he heard the roaring of a massive lion boom in his head. Jongin felt tiny in his seat. He fixed his glasses. He couldn’t cry for help.

Next to Jongin, Taemin’s eyebrows arched. He focused only on Heechul and chewed on his lip to mute any curses he might throw at his brother.

“So,” Heechul began, going between them. “Taemin? Could you get me some tea?”

“What tea?” Taemin swallowed hard, forcing out a smile. He jumped up from the sofa, ready to suggest water would be better. Seeing Heechul’s equally forced smile, and the way he tilted his head slightly to his right, meant he had no time for his bull and Taemin knew he’d lose everything in a confrontation. Taemin’s expression went cold, body still tense. He sat on the sofa again, glaring at his feet for a second, before freezing on Heechul’s mouth.

“The one you had yesterday.”

“Green tea?” He suggested. His brother wasn’t big on tea, so he couldn’t understand why he would suddenly ask for some – he had a beer last time. That particular tea also only took two-three minutes to brew. Taemin had no intention to leave Jongin alone with that nutjob for more than five minutes.

“No,” Heechul grinned, “the sweet one that takes ten minutes to make. Which one was it?”

Jongin suddenly remembered one of those Animal Planet documentaries he had watched a long time ago, so long, he couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when or if he had ever seen it and wasn’t just making up the entire thing. Maybe it was in one of USA trips and the TV somehow switched to that channel. His subconscious knew some things better since the scene before him resembled the scene from the documentary. In it, two animals – lions, or tigers, or a cheetah and a lion, they were all the same to him – circling each other, growling low, warning that the first step forward meant war. He heard their guttural sounds, an impenetrable silence allowing them to spread effortlessly through the air. Then, one risked everything, showing claws and fangs. The other retaliated in the same manner, equal in force, equal in stamina, dust and dirt mixing with blood. He hoped the brothers wouldn’t end up like in that documentary – pieces of them mangled, guts spread on the savanna ground, cooking in the sun. No one won.

They sacrificed their lives for nothing, other than to feed the vultures.

He wondered what would have happened if the cameraman intervened. Would he have fallen with them or would have he successfully prevented the slaughter? Jongin believed the former. Heechul must have felt threatened by his existence, walking in his territory unannounced, stealing his brother from him. He should show he meant no disrespect. They were, after all, humans, not big cats. They could talk things out, right?

“The fruity one?” Taemin’s tea assortment also came back to him. He listed some of his favorites while they were in a café and explained how his fans often mailed him boxes of tea, especially during the cold season. “The one with strawberry?”

“Yes,” Heechul nodded, “that one.”

“If it’s not too much of a bother,” Jongin smiled softly at Taemin. He couldn’t get into Heechul’s head. He couldn’t understand the love a sibling carried. He couldn’t possibly know why he reacted the way he did, no matter how much he studied, compared, asked – it was simply something you had to live in order to comprehend. “I would like some of that tea too.”

Without another word, Taemin nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, his frown deepening once outside the room.

“Now,” Heechul pulled his arms out of his jacket. He rolled up his sleeves, in what Jongin could only assume was an attempt to spook him. It worked. “Since you’re wearing my clothes and it smells in here like someone showered,” Jongin peeked down, checking himself – he still wondered how they fit so well. He turned his attention back to the man. Heechul leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His hands were rubbing together, the vibrant tattoos on his forearms moving along. “We need to talk.”

“I apologize for wearing your clothes.”

“Are you two dating?”

Jongin blinked. Sarcasm bubbled at his chest. Of all the questions, Heechul had to put the most obvious one on the front line. Jongin wondered if he was planning something or if he wasn’t as well-informed as he thought. He breathed in, breathed out, exhausting anything that might ruin his only chance to prove he hadn’t begun the entire relationship to entertain him.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Couple of weeks.”

“Are you rich?”

Jongin bit the inside of his cheek because it felt as someone slapped him in the face. He hated that question more than anything in the world, clobbering at his mind with the force of one thousand men. His knuckles turned white, fists shaking over his thighs, his eyes trembling with the same intensity as he held back the fury unleashed within. If only he could scorch Heechul with the strength in his glare.

“No,” he bit down the word like a rabid dog, foam gathering at his mouth. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing several times, clearing anything that might endanger the softness of his tone. “Isn’t that a bit of an odd question?”

“You don’t know my brother well, do you?” Heechul was winning. Jongin had let his guard down, let him get angry, let him get affected by the way he judged him. Heechul played that game more often than Jongin, better, with precision. He knew exactly where to strike. “He only wears Yves Saint Laurent. Even his cheap looking T-shirts cost more than an average person’s monthly salary. He drinks Perrier, he likes fancy restaurants and the couch you’re sitting on isn’t one you’d find just anywhere either.”

Jongin’s gaze didn’t falter.

“So?”

“So, why would he date a poor guy?”

“Are you asking why your brother chose to be with me and not someone you’d approve of?” Jongin’s mantra became ‘control yourself’. If he snapped even once, he knew Taemin might no longer want him. Family came first for some. It wasn’t the case with Jongin and he wasn’t sure if Taemin was any better.

He couldn’t risk it.

“No,” Heechul stood up, took the jacket and put it back on. “I don’t understand why you’re moving so fast, why he wants you all of a sudden. Taemin is a ed up brat, so I thought you’re using him.” Jongin lifted his chin, locking again to Heechul’s gaze. “I don’t know you. He doesn’t know you. Whatever you tell me now, I cannot know if it’s the truth or lies. So, I’m only going to say this once. If you ever hurt him,” Heechul paused to fix his sleeves.

Jongin could win. He really could. He was only a concerned brother, right? He imagined Chanyeol would be the one acting like an overly attached sibling if it came to presenting his future half to him and he thought Chanyeol might undo the situation too if they had only been together for a couple of weeks and were already in talks of marriage. It was normal.

Heechul opened his mouth again.

Taemin started, almost spilling the tea on the tray, watching the two from the door.

Threatening to scissor a certain appendage and then shove it up a specific hole usually used to expel substances had not been that normal in Jongin’s book.

---

“He said he’ll cut my off.”

Sehun had been laughing for a minute straight. When he thought he had calmed down, Jongin came with another confession and strengthened his chuckles until only air escaped his mouth. Sehun then slammed his knees and lurched forward, mouth wide-open, eyes almost closed and b with tears. He was producing the occasional screeching noise when an inhale escaped him, like a joyful pig in the mud.

Jongin had never felt more embarrassed. He allowed his friend to drop back among mortals and said nothing more.

“What happened after?” The strong red shade of Sehun’s cheeks blended back into his skin. Jongin thought he was in cahoots with Heechul to make his life more miserable.

“Heechul left. Chicken arrived. We spent the rest of the night watching a movie, talking and cuddling.”

“Then?”

The still of those hours before dawn, when absolutely nothing happened, had lulled the two dogs on the floor to sleep. Clouds cloaked the sky from the slumbering city. Jongin took his glasses off and placed them on the coffee table. He rubbed his temples and sighed. “Seriously Sehun, I’m right in front of you, what do you think?”

Taemin fell asleep at his chest for five minutes. He felt warm, small, fragile – it made him uncomfortable. Jongin couldn’t stay any longer. After waking Taemin up, he changed to his damp clothes and left with a promise of another date. When? He couldn’t tell, but he insisted on Christmas before departing.

With no message and no call from Taemin, he feared, again, he had displeased him. The more rational side argued he had fallen back asleep, to the safety of his bed, too exhausted to deal with anyone but the Sandman. Later, he would get his message, get his call – he’d disperse all of Jongin’s worries.

Until then, he was stuck in his home, fretting in his mind, faking in front of his friend. It was best he didn’t know how much he actually cared.

Sehun whistled and shoved his foot on Jongin’s shin, snapping him out of trance. “Well, I wouldn’t know. You barely lasted five minutes with me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the same happened tonight.”

Jongin grabbed a cushion from the sofa, launched himself over Sehun and smacked him in the face.

---

In a way, having a pattern made his life easier. He woke up at the same hour and respected his morning routine with sanctity. It seldom varied, so that also allowed Jongin to calculate exactly how much time he wasted and how much time he had left for other activities. So when he saw something white smudged on his hair and chest, a weird feeling creept from behind, like a shadow with sharp fangs ready to puncture his skin and draw blood. How the Hell did toothpaste get there?

Next, he lifted his pants and his nose wrinkled. There was a large stain exactly where it clutched to his . That was an easy fix until the overflowing laundry basket reminded Jongin that he had skipped cleaning altogether and had only two good pairs of pants left – grey loose sweatpants, for when he runs in the park and black leather pants Sehun bought him last year, which he never wore. He could have asked his friend for clothes if he hadn’t been in the same situation. Jongin swore he should hire a house cleaner, or something, to fix their dumb habits. Being a bachelor had its disadvantages, though he had never heard Chanyeol dealing with the same issues when he was living alone.

In the end, Jongin had no one to blame but himself.

Fortunately, he did not brood over those tiny details. The world wasn’t against him and the rest of his day certainly wouldn’t become a horror movie just because he was wearing tight leather pants at work (he would, however, commit suicide if he had to formally meet someone that day – not that he recalled anything of such). Christmas was just around the corner – to be exact, the following day – and he already had the gift wrapped up for Taemin.

If only Taemin had called and messaged him back.

Jongin’s shoulders slumped behind the wheel as if the ashen heavens still shrouding the horizon had fallen on him. He would try again later or ask Chanyeol to contact him. He would go through Heechul too if he had to, just to make sure he hadn’t been ignoring him on purpose. Wonshik might know something too. Taemin’s inspiration must have returned and he had been writing for the entire week. It could happen, he had no doubt about it. Taemin barely kept in touch last time for the same reason. Why else would he disappear off the face of the earth if not for his work? Jongin knew that dedication more than anybody did.

He did not judge Taemin. Could not judge Taemin. But, was it that hard to say hi from time to time? In an era dominated by technology that broke all language barriers, Jongin found it difficult not to take full advantage of it and simply tell him if he was going to disappear for a while.

That was all he asked for – to tell him. Then again, he hadn’t told Taemin that.

Pulling into his parking spot, he promised not to let anything else bother him. He would somehow get a hold of Taemin. He knew where he lived too, so if he had to step over common courtesy to check on him, he’d do it in a heartbeat. After all, it was all about his mental state too. If he believed things were good, the universe aligned itself by his thoughts.

With a smile that dodged surprised looks, Jongin confidently headed to his office.

---

Chanyeol turned to him with an expression that held Jongin by the door. “Wait,” he hurried inside and put his briefcase on the desk, “aren’t you free today?”

Chanyeol almost choked at the sight of leather pants glistening from the strong office lights. He shook his head and locked his gaze to Jongin’s face instead, harboring the same lost puppy eyes from when Jongin stepped inside. “I had to come back.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t read the memo yet?”

“I just got here.”

Chanyeol stared at the leather pants again. “You’re late.”

“I know,” Jongin dropped on his chair and stretched. “Lazy day, if you ask me. I don’t plan on doing much.”

Chanyeol pulled his chair closer to the desk. “Maybe you should read the memo.”

Jongin groaned. He quickly wiped his glasses with a soft pink cloth and then grabbed the sheet waiting in front of him, complete with their boss’ signature at the end. The more his eyes moved on the paper, the more he groaned. “Why couldn’t they wait until after holidays?”

Chanyeol shrugged. “I had to cancel our mountain trip. Seulgi isn’t really happy about it, but what could I do?”

“When’s the meeting?”

“In three days. We’ll discuss more today with the rest of the department.”

Jongin tossed his glasses on the desk. He closed his eyes and covered them with his cold palms, soothing the throb endangering his vision. It was going to be a good day, he knew it.

He just knew it.

---

It wasn’t a good day. It wasn’t even a decent day.

Jongin had to strut in those goddamn leather pants in the small conference room they used for quicker sessions, bulge visible for admiration because they were too tight. He had a headache from how many documents he had to go through just to have enough information to withhold a discussion with his colleagues. His boss really did not know the definition of holiday rest – or the holiday spirit. The disappointment oozing from their skin had permeated the room.

He felt grateful he wasn’t the one presiding the meeting. He was there to counsel, with Chanyeol by his side, and probably become one of the members who would take on the deal three days later. He really did not feel like meeting with investors, though, no matter their proposal, not when he could barely focus on the meeting beforehand. He didn’t concentrate enough on what they were talking, didn’t scan well the new materials slammed in front of him and he neglected the talks often from the way Chanyeol whispered his name repeatedly to get him back into action. Jongin thought he could survive the meeting, thought he could run into the evening. The day wasn’t over despite the darkness mantling the buildings.

The phone in his lap told otherwise. Taemin had finally texted him.

Jongin’s hand was shaking as he read the message over and over again, in case he hadn’t understood at first, his body temperature rising.

That day was horrid.

‘Sorry. I’m in the hospital’, glared at him from the screen.

Chanyeol was the first to notice Jongin’s mood had dropped significantly. No matter the circumstances, Jongin was too professional to let his emotions take him over at work. From the V his eyebrows formed to the subtle twitch of his mouth, Chanyeol guessed Jongin was furious.

“Mr. Kim?” He didn’t dare lose formalities when Jongin was at his boiling point. “Should we take a break?”

Jongin lifted his eyes and met worried stares, everybody leaning back as if Jongin would crawl on the table and maul them one by one. He stood up in a flash and they too followed, chairs screeching on the floor.

“I apologize,” he spoke low and bowed quickly. “I must leave.”

Chanyeol stretched his hand out when Jongin stormed out of there, his name trapped in his mouth.

A/N

Happy New Year! I hope you will have a great 2017.

Sorry for the late. Basically, I’ve been sick for most of November (Koemi had to remind me to take my meds cause I’m a forgetful idiot with these things), then had to catch up with life, sooo yep. But most of my year will consist of work, reading and writing. It should be fun (if anyone's reading The Lunar Chronicles, hit me. I'll start Scarlet soon). 

Bye~!