Yifan exhales, puffs of smoke flying out of his mouth. He taps the cigarette with a thumb and the burnt ashes join into the air. He stares at the morning sky. The brightness is blinding his eyes but he doesn’t care.

His arms are becoming numb since he has them on the balcony’s ledge for too long. He doesn’t care. He peers behind to his bedroom. He follows the ray of sunlight which mostly showers on the bed. The figure on the mattress is still dozing.

Yifan woke up five minutes later because his phone wouldn’t stop vibrating and it was so ing annoying. He cleaned up the mess yesterday. He honestly didn’t want to but it would be disgusting if he just let it dry. It’s been half an hour now.

He’s waiting for the figure to get up on his own so that he can send him back. He also waits for Chanyeol to call again. Speak of the devil, the name flashes on the screen once he unlocks his phone.

“KRIS!”

Yifan flinches visibly, automatically pulling the device away from his ear momentarily by the loud voice. After the ragged breaths on the other line subsidies, Yifan relaxingly inhales the cigarette, sighing through his nose afterward, “Hey, Park.”

Chanyeol lashes out, voice not in anger but irritated, “The do you think you’re doing?! Bring him home right now—”

“Why did you lead him to me even though you ing knew who his dad is?”

“That man has nothing to do with my gratitude to Doc, Kris.”

Yifan is silent as he senses the sincerity in the other’s tone. Sighing shortly, he ducks his head low between his shoulders, sounding a little… stilted, “Park, I want to see him again.” Chanyeol immediately protests, “ no! You know you can’t—”

“Park,” Yifan calls with a hint of menace in his tone, his head hurting on how loud Chanyeol is early in the morning, “That wasn’t a request.” It’s quiet for a moment on the other line this time.

He then hears a long exasperated sigh. “I’ll see what I can do. Did he find out?” He replies calmly, “He knows what I am but he doesn’t know who I really am.” Another voice is heard on the other line and Chanyeol hushes it impatiently.

“Can I just come there now? His father just went out, probably to file a missing report and I better not be late or else—”

“Let me do that,” Yifan smashes the cigarette against the concrete. “You what?” He growls, “I’m not repeating myself.” The other male is about to lose his mind, “Kris—”

“You heard me.”

Chanyeol knows there’s no point arguing over such matters not when they’re running out of time. He reminds him loudly, “You have exactly half an hour left!” Yifan hangs up. He heads out of his room and returns within a minute with the surgeon’s clothes from the dryer.

He’s now standing at the foot of his bed after placing the clothes there. He gazes at the sleeping figure. The doctor looks so soft under the sunlight, strands of his jumbled black hair glowing under the brightness.

The thick duvet isn’t covering his face anymore but concealing the parts below his collarbones so he can see those closed eyes, fleshy cheeks, and delicate lips. Yifan has this odd urge to run his hand through the other’s hair after noticing how disheveled it is.

When his eyes trail downwards, a frown settles on his forehead after spotting two to three bite marks tainting the surgeon’s neck. He can’t ing believe he did those. Yifan will never leave traces of him on anyone else. He winces when his chest hurts all of a sudden.

A hand immediately comes up to his chest as he slouches. He presses his palm onto his torso where the tattoo is, flinching once he feels the pain again. Yifan’s deep gaze returns to the sleeping male. Is the doctor the reason for the odd ache?

Consciousness falling in, Junmyeon slowly stirs, his closed eyes shutting even more as he feels warm all over. Junmyeon will always wake up around eight before his alarm goes off. He’s used to it already ever since he started to work. He’s very punctual when it comes to time.

A hand comes up to clamp over his mouth as he yawns lazily. Rubbing a fist against one eye, he wonders why he feels so exhausted. He tries to stretch but a long whine comes out from his mouth as a sharp pain electrifies his back the second he moves.

He rubs the spot in agony, weakly tracing circles on his back. He cracks his eyes open once he remembers yesterday night. Junmyeon springs up on the bed. A startled gasp flies out of his mouth at the sight of the drug lord staring right back at him like a ghost.

Yifan doesn’t have any emotions on his face. Even so, he doesn’t fail to look good only in black slacks, his platinum hair slicked back; the undercut showing proudly.

Suddenly becoming self-conscious that he’s bare from head to toe, Junmyeon brings the duvet up to cover his chest which has slid down earlier, even though the man has seen and has been with him. He looks back at the male timidly, swallowing his own saliva because Yifan is still staring.

“Good morning.”

Yifan’s morning voice sounds so hot. Junmyeon blinks once the thought dawns upon him. He has just slept with a freaking drug lord. He shouldn’t be crushing over this dangerous person!

Junmyeon, unfortunately, blushes as they keep staring at each other. He lifts his hands to tidy his hair but then, the covers slip down to his stomach. He conceals himself clumsily, bowing his head towards him as a reply to his greeting, not daring to speak a word.

Junmyeon then looks over to the balcony to where he greatly regrets it. No wonder he felt all warm earlier. The morning sunlight is literally washing all over him. He tears his gaze away, his eyes landing on the drug lord.

Yifan glances at the items on the nightstand (Junmyeon follows his gaze), “Painkillers. Water,” before back to the doctor again, face still not showing any changes, “Get ready. I’ll send you back.” Junmyeon gives him a quiet nod, not looking at him.

He then witnesses the taller heading to the balcony. The male doesn’t bother to close the curtains as he stays by the balustrade. Junmyeon scrunches his nose when the smell of cigarette smoke enters through his nostrils.

He looks at Yifan while covering his nose and his mouth only to see the male smoking, doing something with his phone. Yifan then turns the other way, facing the bright sun. Junmyeon scrutinizes the wide back of the drug lord’s, eyes training on the dragon tattoo.

It felt so rough under his fingertips when he was underneath the male last night. When Yifan turns sud