Jongin was the first to awaken on his stool the next morning at 3 a.m. A simple swing to the side had jostled him just as he was about to fall. He saw that Ayoung was still at her desk, chin tucked into her chest and virtually no movement. He knew she was asleep from the way she sat.

Jongin got off the stool and strode over to where she sat. To fall asleep at her desk, she must have been exhausted. He wondered why some people worked so hard. What would she achieve by overworking herself into the wee hours of the night? A hunch back perhaps or chronic back pain.

"Ayoung?" She didn't stir at the call. Jongin shook her shoulder slightly. Nothing. She slept like a log. Not even an earthquake could shake her when she was in a deep sleep.

Jongin knew what he had to do. He lifted her out of the chair, carried her to her bedroom, lay her down and put the covers over her. He might have laid down next to her and watched her sleep but he had to be somewhere.

There was an unwanted wedding and his attendance was obligatory.

3 a.m. but he was wide awake. Any second now he would get a message telling him a car was coming to pick him up. He had to be at HQ for that. The wedding was in Dubai and his phone alarm was going to ring at approximately 3.15 a.m.

Jongin left Ayoung's for the HQ.

Sehun wasn't home. That was the first thing Jongin noticed. Where could Sehun go? His home? yeah, right. Instinctively he reached for his phone to ring his best friend but then he remembered the time.

Jongin shook his head. He opted to send the guy a text message.

If you're alive and you've seen this message, lemme know you're alive and have seen this message.

Thinking this much was enough, he tossed his phone aside and went for a quick shower. The car would pick him up, someone would have organised a plane, his clothes and everything he needed would be ready but nothing beat a quick shower under hot water at the early hours.

*

The limo came on time. An odd addition in the early hours of the day in a neighbourhood that looked like it would be seeing redevelopment. A young man, not much older than Jongin drove Jongin to the airport.

He didn't need luggage. This was the best part of this job.

He relaxed back into the cushioned seats. There was a fridge in the limo. Jongin grew peckish upon seeing it. He threw the door open and rummaged through the contents. Alcohol, water, fruit, chocolate, sandwiches, salads. Who had time to prepare all this? Jongin always wondered this when he got into one of the fancy cars.

"Your flight is in an hour. Madame said she would like for you to wear what she's prepared."

Jongin nodded dismissively. All these madame ladies had surprisingly boring taste and well… he was being paid to dress up so who was he to complain.

They arrived at the airport in absolutely no time. Jongin had his passport at the ready. This clientele certainly didn't trust him. Although he went through the VIP airport section, he was escorted by her people. The escorts looked at him as if he would run away or something. Cold eyes, little conversation and permanent sneers smeared across faces.

Jongin told himself the money would be worth the hostility. Some people were naturally suspicious of strangers and he was an outsider to this crew. Naturally he was distrusted. Not that he cared, Jongin was planning ahead, wondering what he could do after attaining that paycheck. It was not in his nature to be offended by people he didn't know nor those he didn't care for.

He got on the private plane. He changed into the suit that was ready for him. He was told his hair would be done once the plane was in the air. This was normal for him who had asked for these specific requirements. Jongin merely nodded. Released a yawn and closed his eyes, trying to catch some sleep, sleep that he knew wouldn't come.

Jongin's thoughts naturally fled to Ayoung, the woman he loved. Every odd day he was pretending to be some woman's lover and helping her escape the mess that aas marriage.

Ayoung didn't know about that. He had purposely not told her. He imagined her reaction would be utter disgust. She may not even talk to him. Sometimes things were better left unsaid to prevent quarrels. As understanding as she thought she was, his job was beyond reason and so he hid the business from everyone. Jongin grinned. The thrill was still exciting, the task shameful and the money was what he looked forward to the most.

Once the plane had taken off, the hair stylist arrived to do something with the thatch on his head. Jongin's hair was naturally unruly, difficult to comb and on the longer side. Thus, he usually never combed much other than the front to give an image of neatness.

The hair stylist might have had a tough time with his hair. He didn't know because it seemed like an effortless endeavour but Jongin was sure his hair was an utter nightmare. Either way, the professional didn't comment.

All these rich people servants were trained to keep quiet, Jongin reckoned rich people preferred talking to instead of being talked at. At first he'd found it weird but now he was used to the silence. It gave him time to perfect his plan.

After his hair was ready, Jongin admired it in front of a mirror. He could never get his hair to look good no matter how much he tried. Hair stylists worked miracles.

His suit wasn't as fashionable as he liked. It was a boring stripy grey. Jongin had always hated stripes. The suit was cementing his reason as to why, it looked old fashioned. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to brush off the revolting feelings he had. Suit or no suit, he had to put this ugly bag on because he was being paid to.

To add to his misery it was not a tailor fit. The suit was baggy. Now he really looked like he was wearing a sack. No fancy green tie or silk shirt or shiny cuffs could make up for his grievance.

Grey.

Stripes.

He'd rather be in prison.

Jongin pretended not to be wounded but his lips refused to lift into a smile. He had a mask though and he hoped that would make him look happier. He was supposed to be running away with the love of his life.

Grey.

Stripes.

He was becoming an old man.

Jongin frowned. He wished the plane would hurry up. The longer he spent in this outfit the more his energy withered.

Fortunately for him, the views outside were nicer than his clothes. He watched the cities turn to desert and then desert cities came.

The plane took it's time.

He was the happiest when the plane landed. Having no luggage to haul, he escaped through immigration with speed and a car awaited. Jongin was given the keys.

Inside the GPS was ready. Jongin climbed into the BMW. The model was new. Jongin grinned when the new car smell reached him.

“This is why I love this job!”

He drove towards the wedding hall. He’d never cruised the Dubai motorways before in the latest BMW model. Jongin told himself he had to pick up more jobs like this one. Another thing he had to constantly tell himself was to not get distracted. He’d heard there was a super cool water park in Dubai and some crazy safari rides and he was just dying to see those places. He also wanted to take a selfie with a camel.

“Focus, Jongin!”

The sooner he reached his destination, the better. Anything to get out of the grey stripes.

The hotel was typical. Jongin didn’t like the design. He could hardly pronounce the name of the place he was at, but his first impression was that it looked like a thorn coming out of the sea. The hotel was situated on a beach. Well, sort of, the ostentatious hotel was on a mini island off the coast of a beach. The thorn-looking hotel had its own road. Jongin couldn’t help but scoff. Out of all the places a person could get wed, someone had chosen a thorn hotel in Dubai. At least it had a heli-pad. Jongin liked those, they made easy escapes.

He drove down that long stretch of road leading up to the hotel. The only thing he could think of was that it was a pity he wouldn’t get to see a camel. He put on his mask before he left the car with the vallet. Jongin believed he wasn’t going to see that car again. His heart drowned in sorry. It was hard having to say goodbye to a car he’d just bonded with.

Broken hearted Jongin entered Jumeirah hotel. He really didn’t like this place at all. First of all, it smelled very strongly of oud. Jongin wasn’t sure if the hotel permeated the heavy musk or if someone wearing it had passed by. He was almost knocked unconscious by the smell. He held back the urge to gag.

The receptionists smiled at him. He smiled back, asked where the wedding was taking place and then took off to his destination.

The lift was quick. So quick that his ears popped like they did in a place. He found this distasteful, another negative remark. Thus far, nothing impressed him.

The lift guy, (this is what Jongin called him) must have bee