The Suspect is... You

Pairing(s): Junmyeon/Chanyeol

Summary: He still remembered how his expression had shuttered at once, closing off. Looking at it now, perhaps that should have been the first clue.

Tags: Con Artists, Heartbreak, Romance

Chanyeol swirled the brown liquid around in his glass, chewing his lip. The fragrance of Irish liqueur wafted up to his nostrils and he inhaled, a memory surfacing.

Cold wind swept through jet black hair, a soft pink flush touching pale cheeks. Chanyeol’s hand curved around a slim waist, fingers absentmindedly the suede fabric of his coat.

“Want my jacket?” he murmured and Woojoo turned his head, Chanyeol’s eyes immediately drawn to his petal pink lips.

“I’m good,” Woojoo murmured, snuggling into his arms. “You’re good enough.”

Chanyeol chuckled, burying his nose into Woojoo’s hair.

“You could just ask if you wanted to cuddle, y’know. Want to head back home?”

“Hmm. But I like walking with you.”

A gloved hand sought out Chanyeol’s free one and he tangled their fingers together, relishing in the warmth as they strolled down the streets of Hongdae. His arm was starting to ache from the number of bags hung onto them but they meant nothing compared to Woojoo’s smile.

“Yeah well, it’s late,” Chanyeol said, pressing a kiss onto Woojoo’s head. “We should head back soon.”

“One last stop?”

He was always weak to his pout and puppy dog eyes. Chanyeol thumbed over the pushed out lips, sighing.

“Of course, my love.”

The last stop turned out to be Chanyeol’s favourite bubble tea place, where Woojoo pulled out his wallet faster than Chanyeol could stop him. The brown sugar was almost sickly sweet and the weather was far too cold to be drinking a cold drink but Chanyeol felt nothing but warmth at the satisfied smile on Woojoo’s face.

He tasted the sugar on his lips when he kissed him that night, shopping bags thrown haphazardly aside. The taste lingered even when the shower sprayed down, Woojoo’s breathy giggles music to his ears.

Chanyeol blinked, opened his eyes to find himself back at the little Parisian bar. He took a sip of his Irish coffee, wincing when the alcohol assaulted his tongue. It burned going down.

He shook his head, staring down at the swirling coffee grounds. They looked almost like little rivers of darkness, streaking through the light brown liquid.

The view of the Han river at night was starkly different than morning. It was quieter, almost more intimate as if the city was whispering its secrets to them.

Woojoo had his gloves off, skin pink from the cold as he clutched at his ice cream cone. He was enraptured by the view and Chanyeol was enraptured by him. Occasionally, a pink tongue darted out to at the ice cream but it was clear where his attentions were at.

Chanyeol polished off the rest of his ice cream, folding up the little paper cone to stick into his pocket. There was a trashcan nearby but he could not bring himself to leave Woojoo’s side, even for a moment.

“It’s beautiful, huh,” he said, resting a hand gently on Woojoo’s shoulder. Woojoo leaned into his touch, blinking as if he had broken a spell. The look in his eyes was so distant, Chanyeol wondered where he had gone.

“It reminds me of a place,” Woojoo said softly. “A pool high above a city full of people. The water sparkled like this too.”

He shook himself, as if trying to shake the memory off. Despite the chill, his ice cream was dripping little rivulets down the cone and onto his skin. Chanyeol took his hand, biting his lip when he realised just how cold it was.

“Hey,” he said, “you should put on your gloves.”

Woojoo looked up and shrugged. He opened his palms and let the ice cream cone fall. It cracked onto the sidewalk, an ominous sound. His hands were sticky when Chanyeol took them in his own, trying to warm them up.

He blew warm air over them, smiling when Woojoo laughed, trying to tug them back.

“That tickles!”

“Oh yeah?” Chanyeol laughed too, dropping his hands to pin him against the railings.

His lips were warm when he kissed him, sticky and sweet like cream. It felt like they were the only ones in the world, so entangled in each other that one could not tell where one began and the other ended.

Still, there was a distance that Chanyeol noticed.

It was there the night at the Han river and it was there again when he booked out the entire observatory of the Namsan tower just for them. Woojoo was charmed by the video playing in the lift on the way up and he oohed and ahhed over the view at the top.

They stayed there, pointing out various landmarks and sharing a bag of overpriced tourist candy between them. Chanyeol never realised how much their memories were tinged with sweets.

As the sun fell beneath the horizon, it sent orange flares of light spilling over the world. The rays lit up Woojoo’s face and Chanyeol had never felt more in love.

“Would you stay?” Woojoo murmured, head against Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Stay here in Seoul with me?”

Chanyeol blinked.

“You know I can’t, love. I have business in the States,” he said, kissing the top of Woojoo’s head. “Come with me. I’ll make us a life together there.”

He could not remember Woojoo’s reply, but he still saw how his expression had shuttered at once, closing off. Looking at it now, perhaps that should have been the first clue.

That a month later, he would leave Seoul with a heart shattered to pieces and only half the money in his bank account.

Woojoo was gone and there was nothing left of him.

Chanyeol startled when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He turned, blinking at the man who stood before him, wearing a two-piece suit and a grim expression.

“Park Chanyeol? We believe you have information on a con artist we are hunting.”

“A conman?” Chanyeol sat up, his grip on his glass wavering.

“Yes. Kim Suho. We believe he may have used the alias Kim Woojoo.”