the city is mine;

Everything else in his life was a flurry of lust and one night stands, and any lasting attachments he’d merely equated to games to play and people to use. No one was anything if there wasn’t something to drain from them, and he’d found out early on how to play those types of games. Yongguk was never one to care about his effect on others, and he certainly didn’t care about the wreckage he left in his wake once he’d left them behind. A being completely self centered and probably completely undeserving of love anyway, he’d never even cared to experience it. If anyone would have bothered asking him why he would crush such a young boy beneath his heel in the midst of such an emotion, he probably would have admitted that he never really thought about and also that he was doing the kid a favor at that.

His lips crushed down onto the boy’s, fingers immediately winding into the obstructive clothing covering his frame. He didn’t even mind the way the boy was pulling at his hair, pulling him clumsily towards the sound of running water. Breaking the kiss momentarily, he yanked the fabric from slender limbs, twisting Zelo and pushing him flush under the spray of the water. There he lets the sins wash down over him one more time, just like his gaze as he takes in what features in him have grown up in the past couple of years. He takes in what’s changed and what’s left to break now that they’re together again, lips twisting into another tight smirk as he begins his work in unraveling the boy in his arms.

Where he was uncaring and forgetful with features of actual importance, he never forgot the little quirks and kinks of each of the warm bodies in his bed, how deep he’d had to dig to make every figurative notch in his belt. Like clockwork, he worked his hands down the skin stretched over bone, rough and brash. His lips, teeth and tongue lashed marks onto the pale skin, leaving lasting reminders of his abuse, one’s he was sure the boy would regret later on. One thing he never forgot, never would forget about that cocky little bastard, he couldn’t put up a real fight. 

He was in control of a hurricane of chaos, driving them right into the epicenter of disaster again, just for kicks, because he’d always come out unscathed.

Zelo laughs bitterly as he allows his body to take over his mind, as he turns his head (to the angle he's memorized, repeated, and replayed a thousand times over) sneaking into the kiss. It sears a little as they touch and he whimpers, he forgets, he misses, snaking his arms around Yongguk's neck as he drags the older man roughly towards the tub. 

Zelo finds himself falling into it (he laughs in irony, mockingly pointing at himself and asking what he was doing), back pressed up against the tile walls so roughly he's sure it'll leave scars. Pale fingers slicks up his hair, dripping with warm water and soaked in tears that have yet to be shed, as the boy watches, pink tongue trailing across swollen lips, chest heaving to each breath he takes. Time fluctuates; water rolls off his dimpled cheeks and falls onto dark eyelashes.

He waits, allows Yongguk the time to take in his slender frame, smiles at the way the man's eyes narrow in approval. "Grown up, haven't I?" he manages to breath out, fingers curling around Yongguk's neck as he drags the man forward.

(Do you remember me?)

Zelo arches his back up from the wall chuckling hollowly, "hyung" he calls out. Just like before. "Let's go back down memory lane," he whispers as rough fingers run down his chest and back, curving into his hands, molding into each mark the elder left on his skin.

(Do you remember what you did?)

Zelo finds his lips drafting into a feral grin. He traces a finger down Yongguk's chest, pressing the palm of his hand against the elder's heart. Zelo leans into it, the hollow of his ear flush against the thudding organ. He holds in breath in wait. He wonders what will happen if he rips it out. 

Nipping on the skin until it turns red, Zelo lowers his fingers as he sinks down onto his knees (a position he remembers a little too well). He rests hands on Yongguk's hips, rubbing fingers eagerly against the waistband of his pants and...

Zelo hesitates. He can almost hear the jeer in his head, feel it coming from a mile away. 

(Go ahead, treat me like you did before.)

Fingers wrap themselves around Yongguk's semi-hard dick and he teases the tip with a quick brush of his thumb. There was something about giving head that made Zelo smile; it allowed a certain power in his hands, the ability to reduce the sardonic man in front of him into a crumbling mess. He runs his hand up and down the length before looking upwards under heavy lashes, cherry red lips parted in wait. 

(It's my turn to play the game now.)

“Can I have my hand back?” he added coldly after a moment, his eyes on the fingers digging into his skin forcefully. He was sure he’ll have bruisings afterwards. A delicate scar marring his skin right where Junhong was holding him, a scar twisted metal did, when Jongjin was pulling out from the danger zone a man standing before him. The fate was not without a sense of humour, Jongjin thought bitterly. “Are you going to let me go” he added impatiently. 

"Oh, is that right?"

No ordinary civilian hides their emotions like that. So what does he want?

"An old friend," he barely manages to whisper out, lips curling upwards. The man was right, he doesn't remember him, no idea if he was lying through his teeth or just another faded person of the past. After all, Zelo doesn't remember much, doesn't want to remember anything; something though, Junhong does.

His left hand twitches slightly in irritation and Zelo automatically reaches for his back pocket, pulling out another cigarette. He rolls it across his thumb, just for something to do, and stares at the shorter man in front of him lost in thought. Finally, at the second prompt, he lets go of the other's wrist, letting his arm fall limp to his side.

Zelo props the stick into his mouth, "Junhong's dead," he announces with finality. "I wouldn't go looking for him anymore." He turns his head and makes a motion with one of his fingers to his coworker and stuffs both hands into his pockets.

"Why do you remember him?" 

The unspoken question still lingers.

There was something different in here, by the way. Potteries and guns were never a match. She tried to look around, cameras were surrounding the place so it would be hard to make a move. Her eyes lingered back to the set of pistols enclosed in a glass box, a name written at the bottom together with a signature, it must have been the designer. “Zelo,” the brunette whispered to herself, what a unique name for a Korean too. It could be some sort of acronym or nickname.

He looks up after the message, watching with a critical eye as the girl in front of him fumbled around with her VIP pass. Zelo arches a brow at the sudden shake on her nerves and steps a little closer, "are you alright miss? Is there something wrong with your pass?" 

He smiles a little, tapping fingernails onto the case as her breathing patterns changes (how interesting), "are you interested in them?" Zelo presses his hand flat on the glass and leans in; nothing remarkable about it, one of his old sets designed with the Crests in mind, now discarded for his newest renovations. 

"I wouldn't worry about me," he laughs after the exaggerated reaction. Zelo's not cocky; he's just not worried, hasn't been since he was old enough to realize he's practically indestructible. It's why he's so brash, why he fools with fire when he knows he'll just crash and burn; sometimes he thinks he does it just to see how he's going to kill himself one day.

Maybe he'll go up in a blast.

Zelo rubs the back of his head and smiles, "yeah I'll get used to it alright. After all once your in, you don't leave." He manages a hollow laugh as sharp eyes follow her words, memorizing the positions of the liquor and its general distances from his spot at the counter. Zelo nods his head once the information sunk in (not without shooting the male who coughed a dirty look first) before smiling politely at Yuri, "thanks noona, I got it."

"I said it's coming right up," he snaps irritably at the second cough before twisting away on his heels to grab a few dozen bottle from the cabinet behind him. Zelo pours it over the available shakers, flicking them around his left wrist absentmindedly while his right hand scooped a few clicks of shaved ice over top the glasses on the counter. It didn't take long before he washes out the last of the most basic drinks in the book, sliding the liquor across the marble.

"That's one Jack and Coke, Screwdriver, Cape Cod, Gin and Tonic, Taquilla, and Mojeto," Zelo droned out as he picks up the tab lying on the counter. He waits a beat as the confusion begins to set in (the group finding themselves unable to differentiate between the drinks they had ordered) before smirking. Zelo uses the notepad in his hand to point to each drink in succession, repeating the names slowly before snapping it back onto the counter.

He didn’t have a chance to say anything, not that he probably would have said much to that in the first place. The laughter that followed, painfully aware that it was directed at him, had him frowning once more. He wasn’t his type? What did that even mean? Sure he wasn’t the most attractive guy on the planet, but never once had any of the girls at school called him ugly, nor had any of the girl’s he’d asked out turned him down. He was pretty sure that the other just needed to see him without his shirt to change his mind, but either way he would definitely make it a point to show him he was wrong about that little statement.

“I think you could probably call me hyung… I mean how old are you? Did you even graduate yet? You’re tall but.. you got these little kid cheeks.” He smiled again at that, reaching up to pinch them even though he was sure his hand was going to get swatted away before he made it. “My name’s Jongup, Moon Jongup. Don’t worry, if you forget you’ll hear it again when they announce me as the winner. Maybe your paycheck is riding on this, but so is mine. I’m not gonna give it up so easily.” He checked his watch again, drawing his arm back before it was dismembered. It was about time, if he wanted to be ready he needed to get back to his car and do a quick check over everything. 

He smiles a little at Jongup and clucks his tongue cheekily in response, "we'll have to see won't we hot shot?" Zelo wonders briefly (as he watches the other go through his routine, like all the others that had surrounded them) if he was merely talking to himself.

Standing by the car he slaved an entire afternoon over, Zelo leans against the door and tries not to snort in dismay. "I'm way over my head in this," he kicks the tire and pulls out a cigarette from his back pocket to ease his mood, "we're both pretty fucked huh?" Zelo leans his head back blowing out a steady stream of smoke, "well, let's rip this place up anyways."

He slides into the car and backs out of the driveway onto the designated street, third down. Unlike the usual dig, this particular organizer opted for set lengths; determined though lottery, chosen when the racers paid their dues - a handicap of sorts for the group of newbie participants in one of the most well organized drag races available in Seoul. Zelo slows the engine to adjust the strap on his helmet and slides on a pair of thick gloves he had nicked off a drunken man.

It wasn't the first time Zelo had participated in a drag race (back when he was still new enough to be careless, the boy burned away the money Seunghyun showered on him like oil) but it was one of the few times there wasn't medical staff at his beck and call. He straightens his back, tilts the rear-view mirrors and revs the engine in time to the flagger walking up to greet the lineup.

Behind the series of cars, Zelo keeps a steady eye on the mirror, giving each new car a once over in hopes of discovering the dancing puppy from before. It doesn't take him long to spot a vehicle that reminds him of the boy and Zelo smiles behind his visor. Well, well, he picked a bad lot didn't he? The cars around him hummed in anticipation; three rounds, winner takes all.

Zelo flexed his fingers against the wheel in time to the second clock.

Three.

Two.

One.

By the end of the first corner on the last lap, Zelo's already chasing the tail of Jongup's vehicle roaring to life in front of him. He curbs the road, taking a detour to meet the car in the middle of the second turn, wheels squealing in protest as he throws the entire car into the turn, hand bracing on the emergency break, willing the car to make the turn without flipping over. 

He succeeds enough to pass Jongup's car with a sputter and Zelo accelerates himself past the third turn. A glance out the rear-view mirror shows his bumper being half eaten by the unrelenting car kicking down his tail and he swears up a storm as something shoves into his side--

In that split second, Zelo let go of the turn and his luck ran out as the vehicle that popped out of no where from the middle of an alleyway rammed him from the side again.

His vehicle flips onto its front end like a somersault.

It rolls twice forward before crashing down on the side.

Zelo likes to think that he's a careful person; someone who knows how to take care of himself despite the sting of glass imbedded in his thigh and the metal plate digging into his back is enough to make his eyes bleed red and he swears his fingers aren't trembling.

He manages to lick his lips, wetting the dry skin as he gnaws on the side of his mouth in a desperate attempt keep his vision steady. Zelo shifts his shoulder, ignoring the shot of pain curling up into his spine and pops the edge of the front door open. In a daze, he briefly notes that he's dripping oil and it didn't take much of a genius to smell the spark of gasoline on rubber.

Zelo manages to not scream when he rips his shoulder and back away from the metal ridges of the car (and he's bleeding bleeding bleeding and its just not stopping) as he stumbles out of the front seat. Falling on the ground a couple feet away, he rolls his head backwards as the young boy tugs the glass shards out of his leg.

He can sort of hear the car explode behind him.

Zelo says a moment of silent prayer for the engine he crafted and then laughs. He rubs a hand against the grime of dirt and grease and blood wondering if this is what it felt like exactly ten years ago.

He supposed it sucked that much too.

Zelo tossed the helmet on the ground.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, smirking at the boy. He had no intention to give up this brilliant mind in front of him, for someone else to scoop up. His gang had gone easy on him, and he knew if another had stumbled across him and his skills, they would’ve been much rougher with their handling of Zelo. Seunghyun was curious though. His hand clasped around the money, he wondered how exactly Zelo came to the conclusion to agree. Maybe it was the fact that he knew it wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t end with just this visit. Seunghyun wanted him, and wouldn’t let it go that easily. 

"No," he snaps, "we won't be seeing each other tomorrow." Zelo twists the blueprint in his hands crinkling the wafer thin material, "you came to me, you work on my terms." Smoothing down his sweater, Zelo glared down at Seunghyun with hooded eyes, "one week, then you come pick it up. I don't deliver." He purses his lips for a second, managing a sneer at the expensive looking car parked in front of them, "and don't send any of your men to keep watch Seunghyun, I keep my promises."  

He waited for the vehicle to turn the corner before bending down to pick up the wad of bills tossed carelessly at his feet; thin fingers curled inwards, digging into the pile so tightly, he's sure he scratched the first few worthless.

Bastard.

.

"That bastard."

Zelo spits as he shoves the same useless face that attacked him into the wall behind his apartment, effectively breaking the poor man's nose - twice, in a week. "Tell darling Seunghyun that he can pick it up tomorrow," he waits a beat for the semi-unconscious male to nod before tightening his grip on his collar, "and tell him..." Zelo grits his teeth leaning in close, "if he tries this shit again..."

The young boy trails off, letting go of the useless subordinate's shirt to gesture innocently to the brick wall behind them. He flashes a dimpled smile before landing a solid punch into the cement, watching with justification as the brick crumbles in front of their eyes.  

Pushing him aside, he made his way in, peeling off his thin jacket as he went. “Do you have a dryer or something? I’m not gonna fucking stand around in these clothes.” He grumbled around, kicking off his shoes and making his way out of the tee he had on as he made himself right at home. Of course these would be the first words he’d say to him, because tact was something clearly void in Bang Yongguk. Turning back to the frozen in place frame of the kid who he had to admit grew up quite a bit in the past couple of years, he raised an eyebrow impatiently. “Where’s your shower? I don’t want to catch a cold. Maybe you should join me, you look like you just rolled out of bed.”

He cursed aloud as he noticed the rain coming to a halt outside, glaring at the window and to the sky as if the heavens had planned just to punish him solely. Tugging his wife beater over his head, he scowled at his misfortune, wandering farther into home of boy he’d personally emotionally destroyed. The wet trail he left behind smeared a path along the smooth tiles of expensive looking marble, dropping his clothes in a pile by the bathroom door once he’d discovered which one it was. “Coming or not?” He called out as he disappeared into the room, the last bits of his clothing dropping to the floor with a dull splatter. His appointment ceased to matter as soon as he realized exactly who he was dealing with, and now he really couldn’t have cared less for how much time he wasted or recovered, letting the ticking of the clock fade under the sound of rushing water as he cut on the hot water.

And sometimes, when the luck runs out and Zelo is left to pick up the pieces on his own, he savages what he can carry in his arms and then he runs; heart thudding violently in his chest, short exhilarated breaths as he fights to bring in air, he runs until he can run no more, until time slows into a mere existence of a memory, tucked away and forgotten.

In that split second when luck chases his tail and the pieces fall out of his arms and he's no longer running because the longer he moves, the more he knows (he hears, he sees, he lies to himself) that he's only standing still. 

A single frame, shot in motion; words that drain out of his mouth into silence as steel bullets rip through his brain in an endless sequence of tick tock and tick tock. 

Raw lips that part to obey, phrases who will remain unheard; the clock behind him roars its seconds because time stopped for no one: get out, just get out, get...

please haven't you done enough; what more could you possibly do? 

But God doesn't listen to time and he doesn't listen to you and he will never listen to me because Zelo swears that God does not exist because he is standing here, pushing past him, standing there, inside his life, already worming his way back into the box he's locked and it's already

too late.

Because Zelo found the key he's tossed to the bottom of the well and it's in his hands, it's calling for home, and he knows (and he knows) that Zelo's just a child.

A child will not resist that call.

The shudder of spring wind squeaks past his hinges and Zelo watches in vain as the front door shuts on its own, the click of the lock as it settles into place, into his heart as the gears whir and everything resets and he's fifteen again.

(But he's not.)  

Zelo turns on his heels, following the trail of discarded clothing sinking into his marble floors as he makes his way to the man that took his life apart; he stands there, breathing hard, eyes held firm as Zelo barks out a laugh grabbing onto Yongguk's hair as he drags the male forward.

Sometimes, luck was all it took.

He's a masochist, he knows.

“You must have started there awfully early, how did you survive? I assume being a male bartender is nowadays as difficult and sometimes annoying as it is for females. With all those drunken bastards constantly hitting on you, trying to sneak the alcohol bottles away or thinking that they don’t need to buy for their drinks anymore.” she shook her head, a short laugh escaping her lips as she thought about those scenarios.

“but yes, you are totally right, once you start you don’t really quit, and it’s actually pretty funny sometimes as well. And hey… free access to alcohol, not so bad either if you ask me.” grinning she winked at him before she looked up at the waitress and ordered. “Of course!” she nodded happily. “They have the best cakes and cupcakes and all you can imagine. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

Once again she nodded slightly and waited till he ordered everything. “I actually enjoy bartending. Sure there are assholes, but I learned how to handle them, therefore no problems most of the time.” she added while shrugging with her shoulders, her eyes wandering out of the window, looking at the people passing by, busy on their phones or chatting with their companions.

Laughing softly Bom turned back to Zelo and chewed on her lower lip. “Omg yeah. Jia knows how to get what she wants and if she wants you to agree or say yes, then hell you surely will do that. But yes, you really can feel fluttered. That’s a pretty big honor to be honest. You better be worth it.” once again she grinned amused then leaned back, tilting her head to the side, thinking about his words.

“An agenda? Hmm… well I was curious about you. What type of guy you are, how you look like, while you attracted Jias attention.” she nodded, satisfied with her answer. “But I actually just said it as a joke at first. I didn’t even think that Jia would be that excited about us meeting. However I don’t see the need to interrogate you or anything. That may only bring us into troubles after all. “ she laughed shortly and brushed her hair out of her face. “Besides, everyone is suspicious about everyone here in Seoul already. You can’t just walk around normally without being tensed up. Therefore, a nice chat about the bar, Jia and we will be perfectly fine in this wonderful cafe. However. Is there anything you want to know??”

Zelo sets the glass back down onto the table as he studies the woman sitting across from him, "you don't say? I find it challenging, a way to see how well I can read people." He laughs, "it's interesting when you can get a drink just right."

He leaned backwards into his chair, running a hand through choppy blond locks and smiles in agreement, "it's ridiculous isn't it. Seoul runs on the suspicion that we feed into it, forget ordinary civilians, no amount of power or money is enough to get you out of this place."

Zelo's voice tapers off somewhat, fading into a thread of thought he had entertained on the back burner for years on end. The simple idea of what would it like to leave Seoul; to get out of the Crests and get out of bartending and designing and the constant need to look over your damn shoulder because you can trust no one in this city. Zelo's eyes flickers down onto the emblem he wears on his hand and the thoughts retreat. You can't leave Seoul can you? Not unless your dead body turns up.

He watches silently as the waitress sets down their food, the cheesecake no longer appetizing. "Anything I want to know...?" Zelo looks at her while Bom's eyes sparkles in delight. He looks back down at his own ring and then taps his fingers on the table in thought.

"Why does a Crest have a personal connection with a Viper?"

Ceramic plates and porcelain vases made her classmates gaped in awe while she stood there at the back, trying to stop herself from yawning. Whatever makes them go gaga over those pieces, she cannot decipher out. If not for a requirement in a minor class, Jiyeon would not be dragging her own feet all the way to this exhibit to stare at new designs of potteries and kitchen wares she had no use of. They were for middle-aged women who had nothing to do at home except spend their husband’s money. She wasn’t in any way interested at those for one thing, she’s not in any shape a middle-aged woman and if she will be in the future, there’s no way for her to waste money on things that are just for display.

Then again, who wouldn't when there was a boy bored enough to aim a gun at your face while sitting in your leather chair, spinning around in circles just so he could make a mess out of the papers settled in twin towers, which now resembles the after mass of 9/11.

Zelo smiles innocently back, resting the gun in his lap. He was allowed certain exceptions (a lot of exceptions to be exact) though the young teenager knew when and where he could push those buttons. Glancing down at the flyer he had defiled with his boots, Zelo scowled, nudging it out of his line of sight. 

Two weeks later, he finished the design for the new pottery set due to showcase in the Crest's newest collection of museums. The museum, of course, is merely a front; a new business venture into showcasing wealth while enforcing trade. Stomping his foot against the edge of the marble, Zelo yawned as he marched in, throwing the security guards a glare as he stepped past the gargle of university students crowded around tableware.