#mixbelle

Humming under her breath, Hyoyeon lies on her back underneath a rather pesky car. She's been working on it for a few days now, yet the problems seem so many that it's almost overwhelming. It's a good thing she's the kind of person who enjoys a good challenge, otherwise she would probably be slacking off majorly right now.

But no. Instead of getting some time to relax, she's spent a good few hours on this car only, tackling problem after problem. She's even learnt a few things, having to search something up on Google now and then -- hey, she may have been taught a lot about cars, but her knowledge on them had to end somewhere.

She nearly groans when she hears someone enter the garage. Perhaps an impatient gang member badgering her on when their ride will be patched up, or maybe someone with a problem that needs urgent looking at. It's all the same, really. And extremely annoying at the moment, when she's so focused on getting this stupid thing done already.

himchan disliked hospitals, it didn't matter what type, he hated them with a passion, he hated how the smelt, and how cold they could be and how it practically felt like a prison just colder. not that he's been to many prisons, he was way too good looking for that, it wouldn't end up well. but the fact, he had to deal to a fucken mental patient made the slender male's teeth grind. he should of rejected this offer, what did he owe to this old hag, he wasn't the one who made her do those things for his parents, honestly fuck this shit, he should of became a prostitute if it would mean he would stay out of dealing with mental patients.

ugh who was he kidding, the fact he was a drug dealer was good enough as it is. shaking his head at his inner monologue as he strolled down the halls of the hospital, his bag slung over his shoulder, he wasn't even sure how he got past the security at this joint, perhaps it was his charming smile, and amazing looks or the fact he didn't like a thug. probably all three to be honest. licking his lips, he turned a corner, the click of his shoes echoing across the hall in the otherwise silent hallway. his eyes scanned the wing, trying to spot the familiar room number, it's only been a month or so, but himchan didn't really remember it to be honest.  

as much as jiyeon liked to pretend that she was made entirely of mechanical parts, there were times when not even the biggest dollop of delusion could disguise the fact that she was, in reality, human. those times were made very clear when she woke up in the morning feeling like she straight away needed a week-long nap, or when the tug on her eyelids was so strong that making it to the bathroom to vomit felt like a marathon. there’s nothing like a nice bout of sickness to remind you of your fragility, she would think, dashing to the sink to rinse the revolting taste from her tongue.

usually, her tactic was to ‘hold out until it either goes away or death is a sweet relief’ but after a while of coughing, spluttering and trying to ward off imminent nausea, she resolved to go and actually see a doctor. shuffling her boots, the weight of which seemed to have increased tenfold in the past couple of days ago, she dragged her limp limbs towards the doctor’s surgery, where she had reluctantly made an appointment. when she arrived, in her typical fashion, she checked in at the front desk and slumped in a chair in the corner, her arms crossed across her chest and her usual bored and hostile expression making home upon her features.

boredom crept in for the usually active woman, and before a quarter of an hour had passed (fifteen long minutes of reminding herself that doctors were busy professionals with dozens of patients to see), her hand was reaching out to grab the nearest magazine. as dull and outdated as they were, surely just the presence of something to read that wasn’t reminding her to call the office if she needed to cancel her appointment or schedule a regular pap smear would cure the dreariness. obviously, the woman just a few seats down had at the same idea, as when they simultaneously went to take the germy issue, their hands touched and jiyeon almost jolted out of her chair. never one for human contact.

Being the son of one of the top CEOs in Korea came with it’s perks — rarely. Jongdae grew up in materialistic wealth, covered in riches and branded goods that he probably had no care for. Maybe if things were simpler and if he’d won this fair and square he wouldn't have been so intent on being a negative ball of a man. But the money surrounding him was blood money -- money stolen from the poor, garnered by the ill and given to the rich.

But Kim Corp. was a business. An actual business despite it’s shady background and the manslaughter behind it’s success. And Jongdae (sadly) was the son of the CEO — the heir to his father’s ‘throne’ despite how much he was probably against the idea of having to sit and read through files instead of holding a gun and shooting through hearts. Shaking hands with greasy old businessmen wasn’t part of his ‘favourite things to do’ list. In fact it was probably at the lowest because Jongdae hated faking a smile, acting as though he was prim and proper — bred in the highest of homes with a brain good enough to one day lead one of Korea’s top businesses.

"A company dinner with a young CEO," his father’s secretary had said and Jongdae could only grunt as he heard the words fall out of her lips. Great. He needed to dress up nicely, suit himself up as he readied himself for a night filled with deep regret.

"Behave yourself. We might have a scum here tonight," his father said and Jongdae was left confused.

What he hadn’t expected of course was to get agitated the moment he stepped foot into the private room of the restaurant. The table was long, large as it accommodated enough space for Jongdae, his father, some businessmen and her with her people.

Belle, the name rang bitterly in his head but he remained silent, stealing a glance at his father and he wondered for a moment how the old man was able to maintain such a calm expression — especially since he’d been more involved with this girl than he was.

He watched her from a far, trying to remain as stoic as possible but it was hard when every fibre in his bone ached to stab through her chest. A syndicate. That was what she was and Jongdae could feel the tension building up within him.