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The high of work takes you to strange places. Usually it’s at its peak when you’re in the car, when you’re just leaving any kind of event from your… side job.

There’s just something so rewarding about getting what you want in the way you want it, exactly when you want it. It makes you feel the kind of power you don’t have in the hospital, because your youth limits the amount of steps you can climb in the title ladder.

Even though you’re sure your skills surpass that of many.

You guess there’s power in your main job, too, but it’s too visceral for you to enjoy. You get power over a life. The trust of its safety and well-being. That’s something you can respect, even look forward to every day you’re there. The scumbags you deal with in your crew? Not so much.

But today, there’s a bad sting in your chest. Like something’s wrong, hiding in plain sight, waiting to pounce on this sickening joy you get from doing the right thing in the wrong way.

It’s been twenty minutes since you left that decrepit old warehouse and you feel uneasy. The interrogation went well, your freshest card was well played, Taemin’s out of work early for the first time in months and you’re about to start swimming in black diamonds.

Why does something still feel off?

Your first instinct is to call your boys from the car. The first one you call picks up at the first ring, and he sounds his regular no-nonsense self, all monotone, all work.

“Is everything okay? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, miss. You know that we are most loyal to you.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but I also know my father can be pretty persuasive.”

“Even if he did want us to keep something from you,” he reassures, “we’d just say that he told us not to tell. And you always take it up with him or find out anyway.”

True. All painfully true. There’s just such a weird tremble in your nerves, something not quite like panic but not quite like anxiety. Something feels so strange.

“How did the delivery go?”

“It’s already on its way. We should hear back quite soon.”

“Keep me posted.” The call ends seconds later, and you clutch harder on the steering wheel of your car and speed up some more.

You need to relax, you need to relax. Taemin’s home and he’s not hurting anymore, you just want to get home and disconnect and not feel this, whatever the it is.

It’s just past midnight, and the streets are pretty crowded. You wonder if it’s a holiday or the weekend, and check your phone to confirm. Naturally, none of your jobs allow you to keep track of days and only reminders and alerts keep you posted on the important ones, like your parents’ birthdays, Taemin’s birthday, your anniversary, whatever’s worth noting from your colleagues…

Maybe you’re just being paranoid. There’s a first time for everything, maybe the guilt you’ve been suppressing for the past two years is finally starting to catch up. You already decided that you were going to face any punishment for the sins you’ve committed, so you can’t exactly be afraid of this, of the retribution you know is coming for you.

You just hope to be able to delay it as much as possible.

Before you really realise, you’re cruising into the parking garage to your apartment building, and just the sight of your spot makes your breathing a little easier, makes it easier to forget. It’s your favourite thing about this part of your life, how Taemin can just block out everything else that surrounds your brain, his brain, how easy he makes it for the pair of you to focus on each other and pretty much nothing else.

The tension in your chest feels different when you get in the elevator, there’s a little more excitement and a little less anxiety; your heart is beating so fast it reminds you of your first ever date with Taemin, how it was the first time in forever that you were willing to let someone in after—

That. After that happened.

You’re pocketing your car keys in your purse as you approach the door, not even looking up to punch in the entry code and pushing it open as soon as you hear the familiar bleep come from the number pad.

You drop your purse in the first flat surface you see, immediately moving to take off your shoes and jacket before you head to the kitchen for some water.

That’s when you realise that it’s awfully quiet. Taemin would have called out to you by now. You look around the living room, the dining room, you look around the kitchen. Taemin usually dumps his jackets on the couch, doesn’t arrange his shoes by the door… you see neither of those right now.

“Taem?”

No answer. Maybe he got called back? Maybe he’s asleep. Maybe he sent his jackets to dry clean, he usually does that once a month.

But you don’t feel better. The panic rushes back into your bloodstream, the sting in your chest gets stronger, more real, so ing real and you’re rushing over to your bedroom because you have a weird feeling that there’s something so, so, so wrong when you bust that door open and—

You see the wooden box you held just about an hour ago atop your bed, you recognize it because you see your signature purple ribbon around it and you reel as you walk up to it, you hold it up and try to calm your breathing, calm your heart as you think why, why, why, why is this here, this can’t be here, I have to get rid of it, I have to hide it before Taemin gets home, he can’t see this.

And when you rush out, box in hand and eyes wide as planets, you see him. Sitting in your living room like it’s his own home. And you can’t believe that of all ing people in the entire planet, he would manage to find out.

“Hello, there.”

“How did you get in here?”

“Taemin gave me the code,” Lee Jinki smiles at you and it’s absolutely condescending and venomous and you want to scowl but you keep your composure. You keep your eyes stony and you stare him down because you can’t afford to look anxious right now. “He’ll be home quite late, so we’ll have more than enough time to talk.”

God, of all people.

“You want to tell me about that box and why it got to my hands?”

The first thing you do is sigh. You can’t lose face now. Your footsteps are calm, the polar opposite of what they were a minute ago, as you approach the coffee table in the living room and drop the box before taking a seat in the sofa adjacent to him. You cross your legs and sigh, leaning back on the couch and looking at him with the most honest eyes you’ve worn all day.

“What box?”

He chuckles and looks away, giving you a chance to take him in. He never ages, the bastard. It’s been three years since you last saw Lee Jinki in the flesh and he looks just as boyish, just as chiseled. It’s a little infuriating. His hair is slicked back and brown, like it was all that time ago, his eyes still stern yet playful, his grin still cunning.

“It’s really in your best interest to talk.”

His voice still sharp, still captivating.

“Are you always this formal?” you sit up and lean a bit closer to him, try to read his expression. That’s where his age shows, where you can see the wear of his job title. “Did they put a nano-chip in your brain and turn you into a slave to the fair and just law of South Korea?”

“Don’t with me. You should be grateful we’re talking here and not in an interrogation room.”

You smile because you can’t help it, because he’s still too easy to read, too easy for you to figure out. “Why, Agent? Did I do something bad? Are you going to arrest me?”

He looks mighty exasperated and it’s a little rewarding, so much that it actually relaxes you a smidgen. You move to get up and so does he, looking alarmed like he’s afraid you’ll make a run for it. But you look over at him and smile, walking over to the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? A beer for your trouble?”

You move to open the fridge but he grabs you by the shoulder and pushes you against it, successfully knocking most of the air out of you ‘till you’re looking up at him nearly panting. “Or would you like some soju and we can kick back like we used to?”

The steel that covers the fridge is so cold against your back but you don’t care, you’re too busy trying to break through the mask that he’s wearing, still looking for his real intentions.

“Stop talking to me like I know you,” he’s talking through gritted teeth and he’s much too close to actually be threatening and it makes your smile widen. He smells like lavender and citrus and you think this is the last thing you should be taking in but you can’t help it, can’t help the way your brain is reeling back to three years ago even though the man in front of you is someone else. “I don’t know you. I’ve kept your secret because of Taemin but don’t think for a second that I’m doing it for you.”

“Are you going to tell on me, Agent Lee?”

“You’re getting lazy,” he releases your shoulder but you still feel as if he was pushing you; it’s actually kind of awe inspiring how menacing his presence is, how it eggs on the most mischievous parts of you. “Chasing vendettas. And I swear on my ing badge I will lock you up and let the world know the kind of scum you are.”

“Scum?” you snort, eventually letting out a full laugh. “You don’t treat scum the way you treat me.”

His eyes widen at your words, and he moves back just a little, like he’s finally realised where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s with.

“What?” you relax again, leaning against the fridge with ease. “Did you think I forgot the way you used to look at me in back med school?”

That’s when you think it hits him. The gravity of what he’s made himself do today for the sake of… who the knows. 

Why would he come here to threaten you tonight when three years ago he wouldn’t leave your side? You remember when he fantasised about being called Dr Lee one day, you remember him helping you with your Anatomy papers, helping you nail your exams so you always remained top of your class, helping you out of your dress when you were both too tired, too lonely and too consumed by work and you needed to escape…

You remember when he disappeared suddenly, you remember hearing that he’d transferred to study criminology and forensic science. Right after his father became the director of the bureau Lee Jinki currently serves as a senior supervisory agent as. You remember how you felt, betrayed, abandoned and heartbroken and so, so lonely... and it makes you so ing sad and angry.

“Don’t talk about that,” his eyes are so different now, they almost glisten, “d-don’t talk about that.”

“Did you think that your past would change when you decided to start obeying your old man? Do you think that badge of yours makes you better than me?”

Something else floods you now, it replaces everything you’d felt on the car ride here, when you first came inside. Unease that became dread that became anger that became… grief. For a time you can’t bring back, for decisions you can’t take back.

And your eyes start to water.

His eyes start to water.

Why?

“We’re not the same,” his voice trembles for a split second and he hopes you don’t notice, but you do, “that’s why I’m here and not any other agent.”

“I do what I do for loyalty to my father. And for personal gain,” you inch closer to him again, and he doesn’t move, his body remains stoic even when his gaze does not. “You do what you do for loyalty to your father. And for personal gain.” 

It’s there again, the air about him like he’s starting to see eye-to-eye with you, and it makes you even more sad. His posture changes so he’s no longer stiff, and the look on his face starts to soften and you’re so bloody confused that it fuels your wrath.

This makes no sense. Why does he even care anymore?

“I don’t kill. I persuade. You don’t kill. You persuade. You’ll go to any lengths to get your job done. I do the same. We obey. And at the end of the day we do what we want with the freedom we’re allowed. You’re as much of a ed up prisoner as I am.”

“You have to stop what you’re doing. You know it’s only a matter of time before we catch your father and shut his conglomerate down. I’m here because you’re getting lazy and it needs to stop. You need to stop.”

“Who are you to tell me anything? Why do you even give two s about what I do?”

There’s a pause, it lasts fifteen seconds at most. But it feels eternal in this kitchen, in this apartment. The whole world feels huge for a second, and this space so small. “Because Taemin doesn’t deserve this.”

“Oh, Taemin doesn’t deserve this,” you repeat with a scoff, and turn to move away from him, walking over to the counters opposite him because you need to do something with your hands; you don’t want to look fidgety but you suddenly feel like smashing something just to hear it break, to see it broken. “I didn’t ask for any of this, you know.”

You never asked to be your father’s daughter, you never asked for the responsibilities that came with that. You never asked for your side jobs, what they do to a person in the long run, the scars they leave behind. The only two things that you’ve ever asked for are your PhD… and Taemin.

“I can help you disappear,” he says suddenly, moving as if to step closer to you and then hesitating, instead taking a step back.

“What, like you did? And abandon everything I’ve worked for?”

Nobody ever asked you why you chose medicine, of all things. With the family you were raised in, the values and virtues you were taught in the same place that vices surrounded you.

It’s because it’s the only way you can give back the lives they take. You’d never take a life, but you know your father has, you know his henchmen, his crew have. And for that, you repent with every surgery you undertake. Receiving every patient that comes into the ER not because you’re the first trauma and emergency surgeon that gets paged, but because it’s the only way you can repent.

You give back the life they take through your patients. You give back the love they take through Taemin. It’s the only way to stay sane, to keep the will to stay alive.

It’s so easy for him to say those words, like you can vanish without a trace and let go of the two things that keep you moving. So easy when for him, this, too, is for personal gain. You wonder what he thinks of you right now, you wonder if there are embers in his heart where a fire used to burn and if those embers are making him do this, say this.

“I’ll get Taemin transferred,” he starts again, actually moving over to grab your shoulder. And you don’t shake it off, though you know you should. “I can talk to some hospital directors and we can get you transferred, too. We can make it work.”

“Would you do it?”

He’s taken aback again, so much about you has changed that it never fails to shock him. He thought he could still see the person he knew back in med school, the girl that was too good but never too pure, the greatest friend and greatest temptation he’s ever known… and now, you’re so much more.

“Would you run away, Jinki? Leave behind the job that paid your degree, that paid for your first apartment, your first car? And damn the person that gave you everything you needed to enjoy it? Gave you everything you ever wanted?”

“I’ll protect you.”

“Why would you? Why?” you face him fully, step close to him so you can read his gaze, so it can tell you what he really means by all this. “Why do you give a about me?”

You see his eyes and hiss when he opens his mouth, and he shuts it back again. “Don’t you dare say it’s for Taemin.”

“Because one of us should. One of us should run away. I can live with being a cog in my old man’s machine. You shouldn’t have to.”

Your jaw clenches and he sees, a telltale sign that you know he’s not telling you everything he wants to say. “Why, Jinki?”

“I never,” he shuts his eyes and bites on his lower lip, but just for a moment, “I never forgot. I left my dreams behind but I never forgot. I finished up my PhD in a different school, but I still asked around for where you were, how you were doing. I can’t tell you how happy I was when I found out you and Minho were residents at the same hospital,” your eyes burn at the mention of him, he was your closest friend before and after Jinki and he’s the only person who knows everything about you, about Jinki. “I still care. I’m here because I care and I want to help you get away from this.”

“I never said I wanted to get away.”

“Think about it,” he holds both your shoulders now and you suddenly feel small, this close to his wide torso. “I’ll cover up for the with the black diamonds. I’ll ing give you the mine if that’s what it takes. I’ll take care of everything, so think about it. Please.”

“Why?” even your voice trembles now, you’re not surprised by the warmth you feel running down your cheeks but you are surprised by his reaction, how quickly moisture builds and overflows his eyes, too.

“Don’t make me say it.”

With that, he backs away. Completely, he moves out of your eyesight and gathers his things and leaves, taking the wooden box with him. You can move only after you hear the door shut closed behind him, even though you can still smell him in the air, you can still see the steady stream of memories the scent brings in the back of your mind, you can feel your heart beating strong and true, as if to remind you that you’re so much here, living right now.

After managing to gather most of your brain, you walk towards your bedroom, and stare at the place where the wooden box had been sitting when you first got here. You wonder how Jinki managed to hide until precisely the moment you stepped in here, you wonder if that kind of stealth is taught or innate to him. 

He did always like to jump scare you back in uni.

Then you hear the familiar bleeping of the number pad, the pushing of the door, the hurried, dragged footsteps of what can only mean—  

“I’m so tired,” is all Taemin says before he hugs you from the back and throws you both onto the bed and it makes you laugh instantly. Your heart starts skipping beats for an entirely different reason and you don’t feel so anxious anymore, you don’t feel so empty, so guilty.

Taemin’s hands move from your waist to your hips and pull you close against him, making himself the most comfortable of spoons.

“I’m sorry about tonight. I did get home early but then there was a break in the unit’s current case and I had to run out,” his breathing tickles your neck and it’s comforting, it’s so damn comforting and you’re sure he has no idea. “But I’ll make it up to you,” his lips brush the shell of your ear and you squirm the tiniest bit and it makes him laugh. “Tomorrow. Right now, I’m hungry and in need of cuddles.”

You chuckle and try to sit up, but his arms tighten around you and he pulls you back down to lie with him. “Let me go so I can cook us something,” you say, but he quickly tightens his grip around you and pulls out his phone.

“No,” he says with finality letting you move enough so you turn to face him, “we’re going to lie here like two sedentary koalas and order some sweet and sour pork and watch Fairy Tail until we fall asleep. Deal?”

You study him for a moment. Take in his sunkissed skin. The way his eyes shine when he looks at you, the way the lights from the room shine on the planes of his features, the way the smile on his face makes the entirety of him look so misleadingly angelic…

And you can’t help but feel like whatever happens, everything will be okay.

As long as you have Taemin, the whole world can burn.

“Deal.”