#btsvt-adventures

Well, not even Jihoon could have predicted that big dog bowling him over honestly.

When he says big dog, he means big. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought it was actually a small horse that pounced on him and slobbered all over his new shirt. (It’s not like he bought the shirt just to impress Seungcheol or whatever – don’t be ridiculous. Lee Jihoon does not have the hots for his boss.)

“Oh my god – I’m so sorry!” the dog owner cries out. Running behind the wolf-dog is a guy that looks like he’s barely out of high school.

He’s half a head shorter than Jihoon, which is why he isn’t surprised she lost control of the beast. At this rate, he’s convinced it’s mostly wolf. His dog’s leash is dangling from his hand, the end of it frayed from where it had given under the veritable strength of the wolf-dog currently sitting on Jihoon’s ribcage.

“It’s fine,” he wants to say.

Instead, all he manages to come up with is a warbled, confused, “Eh?” He sounds vaguely like a beached whale.

“Holy shit,” someone laughs, somewhere above Jihoon’s head. He thinks it might be Jeonghan. Jeonghan, who’s laughing at him a little. Honestly, fuck Jeonghan.

“Dino, down!” the kid cries, physically lifting the wolf-dog off Jihoon’s chest. He’s a lot stronger than he looks, damn.

Finally, Jihoon feels like he can breathe normally, although his head feels fuzzy. The weight lifted off his chest is a relief, but it only brings all his aches and bruises in sharp relief.

“That’s a hell of a dog,” Jihoon croaks, sitting up gingerly.

The kid literally holding the wolfhound from slobbering all over Jihoon grins sheepishly. “She’s usually better behaved, but it’s been a week since I got to walk her…” The kid blinks, holding out a hand to help Jihoon up, because he’s still lying on the pavement like a dumbass. “I’m Chan.”

“Jihoon.” He bites back an amused smile. It’s not every day you meet a guy by having his dog run you over. “After-school walk, huh?”

“School?” Chan lets out a surprised laugh. “I’m thirty-two. I’m way over school.”

Jihoon flushes, trying his best not to sputter as he does a double take. In the loose jeans and hoodie, Chan looks like a regular college student. Maybe Jihoon spends way too much time around kids if he can’t even tell the difference between a teenager and someone who’s only five years younger than him.

He accepts the proffered hand. “You look a lot young – ack!”

Jihoon stumbles forward, almost bodily slamming into Chan as his ankle buckles under him. He’s lucky Chan is a lot stronger than he looks, or he’d be flat on the ground again.

“Are you okay?” Chan asks, lips pursed in worry as he steadies Jihoon.

“I’m…” Jihoon trails off as he gingerly applies weight on his right ankle. He lets out a hiss as pain travels up his leg. “Ah, fuck.”

Dino is an exceptionally good wolf-dog, because she doesn’t go around trying to tackle other unsuspecting characters. She does, however, sniff Jihoon’s ankle and proceed to cover her snout in shame. She even lets out a little whine. Cute little bastard.

“Puppy!” Hansol exclaims.

Jihoon turns and sure enough, there Hansol is, tugging on his dad’s hand impatiently.

And, of course, there Seungcheol is, looking stupidly handsome and – and concerned, in his denim shorts that show off muscled calves and a black t-shirt that clings to Seungcheol’s broad shoulders.

Jihoon definitely does not have a thing for his boss.

“That’s not a puppy. It’s bigger than you,” Mingyu sighs, all sassy and long-suffering at the age of sixteen. He eyes Jihoon critically, melted ice cream making sticky rivulets along his fingers as he holds out his ice cream.

Wonwoo meanders behind, his eyes covered by his expensive sunglasses so Jihoon can’t figure out what he’s thinking.

“Getting friendly with the dog walkers, hyung?” Wonwoo calls out, pulling his shades down low so Jihoon can see the disapproving look he’s shooting him.

“Don’t be rude, brat,” Jihoon retorts, but he feels a telltale heat creeping up his neck. He is inappropriately close to Chan – a literal stranger – but he really doesn’t want to faceplant on the pavement. (Especially not with Seungcheol watching…)

Jihoon turns to Jeonghan, but he has the brim of his cap over his eyes, arms crossed. He looks like he’s napping, which is pretty much the only time he’s not causing trouble. Jihoon could’ve sworn the butler was awake a minute ago, though…

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, eyes flickering between Chan and Jihoon.

He has a hand on Jihoon’s elbow, almost possessively. It’s a strange feeling; Jihoon standing in the middle of Hangang Park with a strange man’s arm around his waist and his boss’ possessive hand on his elbow. Maybe he knocked his head on the way down.

“I’m fine,” Jihoon says. Unfortunately, he voids his statement by wincing when he attempts to put weight on his injured ankle.

“I think Jihoon-ssi might have hurt his ankle,” Chan pipes up. “I’d love to bring him to a clinic, but I have an, uh, an appointment to get to.” He shoots Jihoon a warm smile. “I’m really sorry about Dino. She usually only bowls over cute guys.”

Jihoon sputters at that, ears absolutely burning red as Chan winks at him before grabbing Dino by the collar and muscling the giant dog away. Jihoon’s just about to take a step towards that brat and shake his fist at him, but his ankle twitches and all he can manage to say is, “Oh, shit – ”

Before he can eat concrete, there’s a strong arm around his waist and his face is mashed into a broad chest. He swallows down a squeak, hands spread out in front of him so they’re resting on Seungcheol’s stomach.

Seungcheol, damn him, is grinning down at Jihoon with eyes that are honest-to-god sparkling. “Can’t have you falling for me now,” he jokes.

“I would never,” Jihoon sputters indignantly. His fingers curl into the soft fabric of Seungcheol’s shirt. He breathes in deeply (the scent of honey and expensive cologne teases his nose) and lets out a frustrated noise. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“You should kiss him better,” Jeonghan hollers.

Jihoon turns to shoot his friend a dark glare. Jeonghan clearly wasn’t napping; he just wanted to watch Jihoon make a complete and utter fool of himself.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says sharply. There’s a pink blush spreading across his cheekbones and he can’t seem to look Jihoon in the eye.

It’s okay, Jihoon tells himself. He shouldn’t want Seungcheol to find him attractive anyway. He definitely does not want Seungcheol to find him attractive. Not even a little bit. (Maybe a little bit – just a smidge!)

“It’s okay,” Jihoon protests, pushing Seungcheol back even thought it’s actually really nice being in his arms. “I can just... hobble over to the first aid centre?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Seungcheol sighs, a fond smile playing on his pink lips. “I can walk you there.”

“I’m fine,” Jihoon insists stubbornly. He tries – stupidly – to walk on his bad ankle again and nearly goes down. It’s only Seungcheol’s proximity and Jihoon’s reflexes that saves him from a broken nose.

“Choose. Piggyback or princess carry.”

“Seungcheol-ssi!” Jihoon says hotly. His ears are definitely red. “I’m – that’s not – ”

“Princess carry it is, then.”

Jihoon doesn’t even have the time to kick up a proper protest before he’s swept off his feet. He lets out a yell, throwing his arms around Seungcheol’s neck just so he doesn’t go flying.

Their faces are unbearably close. Jihoon can make out every single individual hair on Seungcheol’s lashes. He’s probably breathing a little heavily onto Seungcheol’s face, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Seungcheol actually has the gall to smirk. Jihoon’s tempted to throw himself into the river just to get away from his infuriatingly handsome boss.

“Well, if I’d known carrying you would make you a lot more agreeable, I’d have done it sooner.”

“If you try this again, I’ll chop you in the neck.”

Seungcheol chuckles, even though Jihoon is a hundred percent serious. As Seungcheol makes his way over to the first aid centre, Jihoon has to admit that the princess carry is a lot more comfortable than the piggyback.

“You’re a lot lighter than you imagined,” Seungcheol comments.

Jihoon shoots him a mulish look. “Are you telling me you think I’m fat?”

“I’m just wondering where you keep all that food you put away,” Seungcheol replies hastily, stumbling over his words a little.

“You’ll never know,” Jihoon sniffs. He definitely doesn’t try and burrow closer. (Savour it while it lasts, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Soonyoung whispers in his mind. It’s still not a crush, though. Nope, definitely not.)

“Dammit!” Jeonghan says five minutes later, covering Hansol’s ears. “I should’ve snapped a picture!”

Wonwoo sighs heavily. “Hyung,” he says gravely, “you’re a dumbass.”

“What did you do this time?” Seungkwan, the home economics teacher, sighs.

Despite Seungkwan being a humanities teacher and Wonwoo being a science teacher, they get along remarkably well. That and the fact that they’re cubicle mates, so it’s much easier if they get along rather than being at each other’s throats. (One such example is Mingyu, the algebra teacher, and Minghao, the Chinese language teacher, who are constantly bickering over the very low cubicle walls.)

“I didn’t do anything,” Wonwoo answers defensively. Being facedown on his desk does lessen the impact of his words somewhat, but that’s just how it is sometimes.

“Is this school-related or love-related?”

“It’s not school-related.”

“Oh.” There’s the sound of a pen scratching against paper for a brief moment. “Yeah, I can’t help you there, hyung.”

Wonwoo moans into the wooden grain of his desk pathetically.

There’s the distant sound of a chair being wheeled over towards him, the wheels squeaking while shoes scuffle against the concrete floors. A finger pokes Wonwoo’s spine, but the physics teacher is too busy throwing himself a self-pity party to see who it is.

“It’s about Junhui hyung again, isn’t it?” Mingyu says knowingly, with a tinge of pity in his voice.

Wonwoo just lets out a plaintive whine.

“Aw, hyung. You poor, unfortunate sap.” A pause, and then: “I have no idea what he sees in you.”

Wonwoo toys with the idea of punching Mingyu in the dick. That would be satisfying. Then again, he doesn’t know what Junhui sees in him either. Is it the glasses? It might be the glasses. Maybe he has a thing for guys in glasses.

Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his forehead absently. “Am I dating Junhui?” he asks aloud.

Seungkwan and Mingyu share a look that speaks volumes. They make faces at each other, having a silent conversation Wonwoo has no hope of ever deciphering.

“Have you kissed?” Seungkwan asks.

Wonwoo shakes his head. He feels a cold sweat starting up at the idea of Junhui’s soft, soft lips on his.

“Have you held hands?” Mingyu adds dubiously.

Wonwoo hesitates, then shakes his head. Sometimes Junhui drags him around by the wrist when he walks too slow, but that’s not really holding hands. His palms are starting to sweat just thinking about twining his fingers with Junhui’s.

Mingyu and Seungkwan share another look. That can’t be good.

Wonwoo makes his way over to Catstronomy after school, even though it’s not a Friday. He finds himself breaking his routines a lot, these days – and it’s all thanks to Junhui.

He doesn’t know when his life got so dull – every day just another shade of grey. Ever since Junhui came sashaying into his life with his black cat ears and easy smile, flirtatious words dripping from his lips effortlessly, there’s more colour in his life. Wonwoo doesn’t feel like he’s just drifting from day to day anymore; Junhui is a splash of colour and a breath of fresh air.

Just be confident, Wonwoo tells himself. He dries his damp palms on his jeans. Jihoon calls out a tired greeting that Wonwoo ignores, eyes set on the caramel-haired waiter that captured his heart from the very first day.

Junhui turns, eyes brightening as his grin widens. “Wonwoo!” he calls out, strides lengthening as he walks towards the physics teacher.

“We need to talk,” Wonwoo breathes out a rush. He holds his breath, biting his lip as Junhui’s steps falter.

“O-oh?” Junhui says. His eyes dart around the fairly empty cafe. “Just – let me get Jisoo hyung to cover the floor for me. I have to go feed the cats too, so head over to the cat pen?”

Wonwoo nods. He shoves his hands into his pockets and wanders over. The cat pen is where most of the cats hang out when they’re not out on the main floor, playing (or bothering) the customers. It’s where most of the cat trees and cat toys are, as well as their food bowls and water fountains. There’s a little door that leads to a small, ventilated room where the litter boxes are, as well as a small gate to keep the cats in during the night.

Wonwoo likes the pen. The cats are the most chill there, comfortable in their safe spot. When Junhui is held back at work before a date, Wonwoo will just hang out here with the cats, where they’re all content to hang out without actually interacting. Junhui jokes that Wonwoo himself has the soul of a cat sometimes.

Junhui looks uncharacteristically nervous as he brings over the large container of cat kibble. He doesn’t really look at Wonwoo, fiddling with the cover on the rectangular container.

“Junnie?” Wonwoo says gently.

Instead of making Junhui smile, the nickname has the waiter’s lips pressing into a thin line. Wonwoo is baffled; it usually never fails to elicit a smile from his kinda-maybe boyfriend.

Junhui clears his throat, frowning down at his feet. “Just – give me a sec. Could you wait outside?”

“Uh. Okay?”

Wonwoo officially has no idea what’s going on. Junhui is cagey, not really looking at him. He’s been acting weird since he walked off to go on his break. Nonetheless, Junhui looks really rattled, so he’ll give him some time to get his thoughts together.

He presses a hand against the gate, but rather than give under his hand, it holds steady. That – that’s not good. Wonwoo gulps, then presses against the gate again, but it refuses to budge. One more shove and he hears the gentle jingle of a lock against the metal.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo whispers to himself, eyes widening. He turns back to Junhui, who has his shoulders hunched. “Junhui?”

“I told you to wait outside,” Junhui sighs, an uncharacteristic twinge of irritation in his voice.

Wonwoo licks his lips nervously, tamping down the hurt that immediately wells up. “It’s not my fault,” he says immediately, holding up his hands innocently. “The gate is locked!”

“The gate is – what?”

Junhui storms up to the gate, rattling the lock viciously. There’s a hint of desperation as his fingers curl into the metal grates.

“Lee Jihoon,” Junhui barks as the blonde walks past. “Open this damned gate now!”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow, twirling his keyring around his index finger. “No,” he says simply. Wonwoo winces as Junhui lets out an outraged sound. “Talk your shit out with him, Junhui.”

Without further explanation, Jihoon walks off. Wonwoo glances helplessly at the gate.

“Um?” Wonwoo says, for lack of anything to say.

Junhui lets out an irritated breath, throwing his hands up. “Just say it!”

“S-say what?”

There’s a suspicious shine in Junhui’s eyes as he glares at Wonwoo. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says. “That I’m not good enough for you and you’re breaking up with me.”

“I’m – why would I ever say that?”

The incredulity in Wonwoo’s voice takes the wind out of Junhui’s sails. Junhui’s forehead creases, lips pursing as he blinks rapidly.

Wonwoo barks out a short laugh. “Why would I break up with you? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Aw,” Junhui says quietly. He lets a sappy smile loose before scowling. He points an accusatory finger in Wonwoo’s face – Wonwoo actually goes cross-eyes keeping that finger in his sights. “You said we need to talk!”

“Yeah? It’s ‘cause we do.” Suddenly, it dawns on Wonwoo. “Oh. Oh shit. Okay, I can see how that sounds.”

“Damn straight! I thought you figured out you’re way out of my league.”

“I’m out of your league? You’re out of my league! You – you’re – you’re amazing.”

Junhui’s cheeks redden as he sputters. It’s rare that Wonwoo catches Junhui off-guard. “Shut up,” Junhui mutters, but his lips curl into a satisfied smile.

It causes something in Wonwoo’s chest to tighten and he realises just how much he likes Junhui. Just because he doesn’t know what Junhui sees in him doesn’t mean he won’t hold on while he’s still got him.

They must look like idiots, standing in front of a locked gate and grinning at each other. They should probably do something about being stuck, but Wonwoo doesn’t mind standing close enough to Junhui for their shoulders to touch. If Wonwoo moves his pinkie an inch to the right, he could touch Junhui’s pinkie.

“I like you too,” Junhui murmurs eventually. His cheeks are still pink; Wonwoo decides this is one of his favourite looks on Junhui, even as his stomach lurches at the confession.

Wonwoo is not good at relationship stuff. He hasn’t really ever been in a serious relationship – the casual dating he did in college doesn’t really count – but he really wants things with Junhui to work out.

Confidence.

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, then blurts out, “Are we dating?”

Junhui doesn’t even blink. “Yeah, we are,” he says easily, like Wonwoo hasn’t been agonising about this for the past two weeks.

Wonwoo stares. He’s pretty sure his brain just broke down for a moment.

Junhui blinks this time. “Is – are we – I mean, I thought that was obvious. We go on dates and we text all the time and I send you memes.”

“J-just like that?” It wasn’t this easy in Wonwoo’s mind.

“Just like that.” Junhui chuckles warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in mirth. “I figured someone as smart as you would’ve figured it out by now. This isn’t exactly rocket science.”

“Rocket science, I get. This – what? Are you telling me I could’ve been kissing you all this time? And – and holding your hand?”

Junhui’s cheeks redden even further. “Do you want to? Be kissing and holding hands and stuff?”

“Fuck yes.”

Wonwoo probably shouldn’t sound so eager, but he’s wanted Junhui’s lips on him since the first time he kissed him on the cheeks. He wants to kiss Junhui and hold his hands and take him out on a million more dates. He wants to be his Valentine and secret Santa and everything in between.

Apparently, that’s all the permission Junhui needs, because he’s leaning forward and pressing his perfect lips to Wonwoo’s. Wonwoo is convinced he’s died and gone to heaven, because he hasn’t screwed up whatever it is between him and Junhui and they’re kissing.

There are fireworks and choirs singing. His hands are in the back pockets of Junhui’s sinfully tight jeans, pulling him closer so they can keep kissing. Junhui’s hands are in Wonwoo’s hair, messing it up and he’s totally okay with that. He can do whatever he wants to Wonwoo’s hair as long as they keep kissing and dating and seeing each other.

“So, uh,” Junhui says, when they finally pull apart, “I guess you’re my boyfriend now.”

Wonwoo makes a happy, delighted sound that sounds like the mating call of a whale.

“Dammit!” a new voice mutters. “I should’ve snapped a picture!”

There’s the muted sound of skin on skin, followed by a pained yelp. Wonwoo and Junhui turn to find Seungcheol and Jihoon on the other side of the gate, sitting at the table closest to the pen. Wonwoo wants to crawl under a rock and die from mortification, but he has a hand in Junhui’s back pocket and Junhui’s arm slung around his shoulders, so maybe it’s not so bad.

Chan scoffs. With a wave of his hand, a chair slides towards Jeonghan, knocking into his knees and forcing him to sit. The warlock leans in close, eyes scrutinising him.

He pokes Jeonghan’s shoulder – hard. The plant manipulator hisses, vines slithering off his arms protectively.

“And how much of that,” Chan asks, poking Jeonghan’s shoulder once more, “is yours?”

Jeonghan glares at him mulishly. A vine slithers off his arm and circles around Chan’s wrist, the thorns pricking skin and making blood well up. Dino, the glamoured wolf, gets off her haunches and growls, snapping at the snake-like vine.

“Aw, ouch,” Chan says. He doesn’t sound like he’s in pain, turning his wrist to watch the vine writhe around his wrist. The pain isn’t nearly enough to alarm him, although his familiar is making a big fuss about it. “Dino, down.”

With a single breath, the vine shrivels and dies in a burst of flame. Chan passes a hand over the small puncture wounds, immediately healing them. Dino sniffs the ashes, then trots away to lick at the blood coating Jeonghan.

Jeonghan groans, then lets the wolf/dog do whatever she wants. Dog spit is better than drying blood, after all.

Chan cups Jeonghan’s cheek, tilting his head up so he can look at the bruise on Jeonghan’s cheek. He brushes a gentle finger against the discoloured skin. “Did you come here to heal?”

Jeonghan smirks, biting back a yelp when the simple action causes the broken skin of his lip to stretch uncomfortably. “Only if you’re offering,” he leers.

It’s not that bad, all things considered. He has a through-and-through bullet hole through his shoulder, from a rookie cop that came early and got lucky. She’s not so lucky now, though; the moment the bullet left her gun, vines strung themselves around her neck and choked the life out of her.

Dino cleans up all she can, then rests her heavy head in Jeonghan’s lap. The wolf likes Jeonghan, for some reason, although he has to wonder if it’s because she thinks he’s delicious. He scratches her ears absently, blood smearing the grey fur of her ears, but she growls happily. That’s a wolf who doesn’t much care for bloodshed – a perfect companion for Chan.

Chan disappears back into the kitchen. There’s clanging and banging as he does… something. Jeonghan’s not sure what it is he’s doing, but he hopes that somewhere in there, there’s alcohol.

Chan reappears with a steaming cup and a plate of sweet, chewy ddeok. He orders Jeonghan to eat, waving a hand over Jeonghan’s clothes so the blood seeps out of the fabric and into the air. It coalesces into a ball that Chan analyses with uncomfortable intensity.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” Jeonghan asks, words slurring together. The blood loss is finally catching up with him.

Chan shrugs, banishing the blood into a stoppered bottle. “Sometimes I need blood,” he says cryptically. He shoots Jeonghan an impatient look. “Drink your tea.”

“I’ll do what I fucking want, thank you very much.”

Chan pins him with an unamused gaze.

Jeonghan drinks the tea.

It’s just on the edge of hot, warming him from the inside. His shoulder tingles, then goes numb. He curses, his magic pulsing erratically at the sudden loss of sensation. His precious vines curl around his arm, slithering like snakes. Chan has never poisoned him before, but he should’ve known better than to let his guard down.

“I’ll kill you,” Jeonghan grits out. The warlock ignores him, pressing a hand to the open wound – a wound Jeonghan can no longer feel. There’s no pain, although there’s a pressure along his upper body that’s a testament to just how hard Chan is pressing down.

“Shush, I’m working,” the younger says, hand sparking with magics as he weaves a spell into Jeonghan’s shoulder. Jeonghan can’t feel the muscle knitting back together, but he can see it and it’s a disgusting and mesmerising sight.

At the end of the impromptu… healing, his shoulder is still numb, but there’s no more bullet wound.

Jeonghan grimaces. “I’m scared to find out what that cost me.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Chan says cheerfully. “In the meantime, I have another guest!”

The front doors burst open, the bell jingling merrily. The metallic scent of fresh blood follows acrid smell of burnt wood. Before Jeonghan can react, Jisoo is stumbling in with a semi-conscious Seungcheol hanging off his shoulder.

The plant manipulator scowls at the sight of his ex-lover. He glances impatiently at the clock; Jihoon is gong to take at least another twenty minutes, at this rate. He had known Jisoo and his merry gang of misfits were planning something today, but he hadn’t expected to run into him.

Jisoo stops short, calculative eyes falling on Jeonghan’s battered form. Jeonghan stares back impassively, chin jutted up defiantly.

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo says simply. Jeonghan hates the way Jisoo’s tongue curls around his name. “Are you still running around with Woozi?”

“Jisoo,” Jeonghan spits out, bristling at Jisoo’s familiar tone. “Are you still a coward?”

Chan watches the two exes interact, glee lighting up his deceptively innocent face. His gaze bounces between the two – at the faux calm of Jisoo and the sharp anger of Jeonghan. He licks his lips excitedly; the warlock has always been a sucker for drama, especially the animosity that lies between Jisoo and Jeonghan.

The door jingles once more. Chan perks up, meeting the newcomer at the door.

“Wonwoo hyung,” Chan purrs, leaning into the madman’s personal space. “My, what a strange crowd you’re walking with, hm?”

Wonwoo sweeps a disinterested gaze over the young warlock. He’s dressed in a crisp suit, hair gelled back. His expensive dress shoes squeak against the wooden floor of Chan’s humble tea shop. His cane taps against the ground, the jewelled head glinting in the low sunlight.

Chan gazes at Wonwoo like he’s starving and the only thing he wants to eat is Wonwoo.

It’s a shame Wonwoo couldn’t care less.

“You fucked up my bank heist,” Wonwoo says, voice carrying throughout the whole room. He raises an eyebrow, clearly addressing Jisoo and Seungcheol. “I should throw your little campfire into the ocean with a pair of cement shoes.”

“My apologies,” Jisoo answers coolly. He deposits the fire manipulator into a chair. “It seems our wires were crossed.”

Wonwoo glowers. He’s arguably the least powered person in the tea shop, but he’s also the only one with an absolute lack of morals. What he lacked in power, he made up for with sheer insanity. (Chan is in love with Wonwoo’s madness.)

“Next time,” Wonwoo says slowly, “I’ll make sure he eats a wad of C4 so I can paint my walls with his guts.” He lets the threat linger, then leaves without preamble. The tap-tap of his cane and shoes echo in the silent tea house.

“Huh,” Jeonghan says. He glances at Jisoo out of the corner of his eye. “So. You were running from him, weren’t you?”

Jisoo shoots Jeonghan a baleful look. “I was not.”

“You were,” Chan injects gleefully. “You did run!”

Jisoo answers with a frown and a curt, “I would like some medicine for Seungcheol, please.”

“I will poison him,” Chan says cheerfully, sweeping away into his kitchen of magic spells.

Jeonghan doesn’t want to be here. He rubs at his vines absently, turning to watch the entranceway. He just needs Jihoon to come sweeping in so they can go home and maybe, Jihoon will fuck Jeonghan hard enough that he’ll forget the way Jisoo tastes on his tongue.

“Jeonghan,” Jisoo says.

Jeonghan never finds out what that traitor could say to him, because Jihoon comes running in just then. The mercenary smells of gunpowder and hot metal.

“Come on, hyung, we have to go,” Jihoon pants. He barely spares Jisoo and Seungcheol a glance, too worried over whatever is chasing him.

Jeonghan does spare Jisoo a look. He holds Jisoo’s gaze as he leans down and kisses Jihoon, taking his time to savour Jihoon’s mouth. The younger sighs, rolling his eyes even as he opens up just for Jeonghan. They kiss and Jisoo’s gaze burns, but he does absolutely nothing as he allows Jeonghan to slip through his fingers again.