Like Clockwork (Taxi AU Spin-off - 2/2)
Title: Like Clockwork (2/2)
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: G-Mir
Summary: He doesn't want a one-night-distraction to turn into a full-time-disruption.
A/N: Seriously. MBLAQ just mess around with my heart for fun. T^T
Part 1 // Part 2
Friday
9:09 PM
Seungho makes a face. He sits on Byunghee’s bed while Changsun is outside in the living room, trying to wrestle Sanghyun’s phone away from him so the older man can see who Sanghyun texts all the time (they all suspect Sanghyun has a girlfriend-probably the translator girl who went abroad a year or two ago and they haven’t heard from since). “You’re going there again?” Seungho says, clearly disapproving as he looks Byunghee up and down while Byunghee fastens the buttons of his shirt.
“What do you mean again?” Byunghee snorts. “This is my regular source of sex for now, remember?”
“What happened to hooking up in a normal club and making normal sex friends the normal way?” Seungho asks dryly. “It’s not like no one wants to bang you. There’s plenty of hot fish in the sea that you don’t have to pay for.”
Byunghee grins at Seungho through the reflection in the mirror. “Not as hot as this one,” he says, meeting Seungho’s eyes. “Plus-he bends.”
Seungho’s eyes stretch slightly. “He bends?” and Byunghee almost laughs at the change in tone.
“Not as much as Changsunnie, but enough that-y’know,” and he meets his friend’s gaze significantly.
Seungho leans back against his arms and sighs. “Christ,” he says, almost dreamily, “I love dongsaengs that bend.”
“They’re the best.” Byunghee pushes his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. “So get off my back about it, okay?” he says lightly, punching the other man in the shoulder. “You take care of your bendy dongsaeng and I’ll take care of mine.”
Seungho suddenly jolts up into a sitting position, back straight and frowning. “Yours?” he asks, eyebrows knitting together. “You know how old the guy is? Even if he’s younger than you-”
“That’s all I meant,” Byunghee laughs. “Untwist your panties, grandpa-fucking, seriously. He’s not my dongsaeng,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t even fucking know his real name or age or whatever.”
Seungho’s gaze is still wary as Byunghee tucks his keys into his pocket and checks through his cell phone. “When was the last time you came to the studio?” Seungho asks, standing up and following Byunghee out of the bedroom (they ignore how Sanghyun’s neck is being elongated by way of Changsun’s leg-to-head-lock). “I haven’t heard you in ages and there’s new equipment there for-”
“I haven’t had time, okay?” Byunghee says absently, eyes searching the kitchen counter for his apartment card. “Starting a new job kind of takes time and not everyone has a trust fund the size of Antarctica waiting to back them up like a trampoline.”
Sanghyun looks up then (after somehow freeing himself from Changsun’s legs and, in turn, locking the older man between the younger man’s own long legs). “I don’t,” he says as Byunghee finally finds the apartment card slotted somewhere between the rice cooker and a water bottle.
Byunghee glances at him. “Right,” he says. “Yours is more like the size of Eurasia.” He tucks the card into his wallet and makes for the door, patting Seungho’s ass as he passes, and kicking Sanghyun lightly in the side. Only Changsun hasn’t said anything about how the club visits are steadily becoming more and more frequent, and Byunghee’s thankful-grateful.
Changsun merely slips out of Sanghyun’s legs and reaches up to thread his fingers together with Byunghee’s for a short moment. “Have fun,” the younger man grins.
A childhood best friend doesn’t always remain a best friend through toward adulthood-people change as they grow and the nature of their friends change along with them. Changsun was Byunghee’s closest childhood friend because when Byunghee was a child, he was full of dreams and romantic fantasies and fanciful ideas-the sort that make up Lee Changsun’s very being. By the time Byunghee met Seungho at the start of university, Byunghee was better suited for Seungho-still filled with dreams, but they’ve turned into active ideals rather than fanciful ideas.
But there’s no future without a past and a childhood’s worth of memories never disappears-the nature of an adult is always somehow rooted to the nature of a child and it’s not like Changsun hasn’t grown up either. And lately, more and more, Byunghee feels like he needs Changsun a little more than he needs Seungho.
Byunghee smiles back. “Thanks.”
Friday
10:22 PM
It’s one of the nights where Mir is out and about the club instead of sitting at the bar waiting for clients, or in his room (getting ready-finishing up). Byunghee manages to catch the younger man around the waist (tonight it’s pitch black leather with cuts all over, exposing infinitesimal strips of skin) in the space between the dance floor and the bar.
“Wow,” Mir laughs. “You’re early,” his head turns before his body does against Byunghee’s body, in Byunghee’s arms. “I didn’t even get to drink yet.”
“Oh,” Byunghee pulls away, walking backwards carefully to the bar and pulling Mir along by the hand. “So you have to be drunk to be with me?” They take two seats at the middle of the bar.
Mir just smiles (that smile-the smile where all of his perfectly white teeth show, face bright, eyes lit up), and takes the drink that the bartender automatically slides to him. Byunghee watches him take in half the contents of the glass in one swallow, foot tapping to the music and round eyes-cupped with liner as dark as the leather (making them look even rounder, even glossier)-watching the DJ stand.
“Are you going to dance for me?” Byunghee asks.
The younger man directs his eyes back to Byunghee, blinking in slight surprise. “No,” Mir says, playfully incredulous. “Whore and pole dancer aren’t synonymous, y’know,” he laughs. “Fucking trust me-you don’t want to see me dance.”
Byunghee raises his eyebrows.
Mir sticks out his tongue. “If you like dancers,” he says, “you should’ve found this place a whole lot earlier. There was this guy-right-he left around the same time I came. He was hot as fuck and he was a dancer-danced all the time for his clients. I heard he was amazing.”
“It’s not that I like dancers,” Byunghee says. “It’s just-I dunno-you look like you like music.”
Mir blinks, smiles unsurely. “Who doesn’t like music?”
“I mean,” Byunghee tries again, “like-you look like you love music.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying-doesn’t really understand why he’s saying this. Just like he told Seungho hours ago, Byunghee doesn’t know Mir at all-other than the name (not even a real name), Byunghee knows absolutely nothing about the younger man. So he has no idea why he’s saying this (probably the alcohol).
Mir’s expression is suddenly curious-the younger man tilts his head to the side, looking at Byunghee oddly. “Really?”
Byunghee looks away, heat in his ears. He’s about to glance back up and bring things to the backrooms since they’ve already talked more than enough (does the timer start when they meet or when he steps into the bedroom?) when he sees that Mir has slid off his chair, giving Byunghee a quick smile as the younger man starts to weave through the crowd, onto the dance floor.
He watches as Mir moves through the dance floor, not on it, all the way to the DJ’s stand-an elevated platform at the head of the club. Mir wraps an arm around the DJ’s waist (a tall young man who blinks until his eyes turn into crescents as he smiles at Mir) and whispers something when the DJ takes off one side of his headphones. Byunghee watches as Mir takes the headphones and puts them over his own ears, microphone in hand as the DJ steps back.
Mir’s body is already moving to the music even as his hands roam around the controls, changing the song into something hard, fast, and furious-something that makes the air in the club swelter and smolder-the kind of song that inspires dirty dancing with bodies pressed against bodies. And Byunghee just watches-can only watch (transfixed)-as the syllables, hard and fast and furious, begin pouring out of Mir’s mouth with rapid fire intensity.
He can barely comprehend what the song is about-the bass booms too much for Byunghee to hear every word that’s being fired like a bullet from the younger man’s lips. He can barely hear the lyrics, but in this atmosphere-in this place-in this situation-in this moment-that’s hardly the most important part of this. Because all that matters to Byunghee, right now, is how Mir is performing-the energy.
He hates it.
He hates the energy that’s dripping, pouring, off of Mir.
It’s enviable and tempting and delicious and perfect and Byunghee hates it. He hates the look in Mir’s eyes right now while the younger man is rapping, riding the adrenaline, riding the sound of the crowd. He hates the apparent, the clear, the very fucking obvious talent that’s dripping and pouring off of Mir because talent like this shouldn’t be showcased at a place like this.
Every performer has something different about them-something that they do best, that they can’t train to do better because it’s just something they’ve always had and will never be able to lose. With Seungho, with Joon, with Sanghyun, it’s all something different-but the feeling that they radiate when they perform is always the same. And-right now-right here-Byunghee feels that from Mir.
(With Mir-that something different-that something special-it’s the energy-his energy)
Byunghee hates it.
He wishes he could still perform like that.
Friday
10:27 PM
The moment Mir comes back to the bar (adrenaline dripping off of him, energy pouring out of him), Byunghee crushes their mouths together, slams their bodies together, and yanks the younger man (stumbling and roughly) as fast as he can into the dark hallway-into the backrooms.
Byunghee can’t talk with Mir anymore.
It’d hurt.
Saturday
1:03 AM
He doesn’t know how long they do it for until he looks at the timer.
All he knows is that they do it (hard and fast and rough every single time with Byunghee feeding off of every particle of energy radiating off of Mir) until the younger man passes out-they do it until Byunghee doesn’t know if the splotches all over Mir’s body are hickeys or bruises, until Byunghee has to stop the timer himself because Mir is unconscious and unmoving on the bed.
He swipes his credit card and signs the screen with the stylus. There are still beads of sweat against the sides of his face and every breath he takes still shudders throughout his entire body-but it’s not from weariness, not from exhaustion from the exertion he’s just gone through.
Maybe Seungho was right.
Byunghee should’ve stuck to the way he’s always done things-should’ve just gone to a regular club, picked up a regular man or woman, and hooked up with them in the regular way. He should’ve stuck to the routine-his precious, treasured clockwork routine of doing everything because that’s how regular people like him survive (Seungho and Changsun and Sanghyun don’t have to because they aren’t regular-their parents’ bank accounts aren’t regular and so they don’t have to be-don’t have to survive like Byunghee does).
He’s not coming back-and in the occasion that he does come back, he’s not going to be Mir’s client anymore. Mir is dangerous-is a hazard to Byunghee’s clockwork routine, could possibly break the clock that Byunghee’s worked so hard to get working, to get all the clogs going in all the right directions.
Saturday
2:38 AM
Changsun is still awake when Byunghee finally gets back to his apartment. The younger man sits on the sofa, legs up on the table and eyes instantly flying to Byunghee as he walks through the doorway. They only meet gazes for a short instant-while the older man takes off his coat and scarf and tosses it over one of the smaller sofas. “You drank,” Changsun states plainly.
Byunghee shrugs, taking out a bottle of water and coming to sit beside him.
“You drank a lot,” Changsun states-this time, not so plainly-a little bit of emotion injected in.
“Where’re they?” Byunghee asks, ignoring the comment. He glances around with no sign of the other two.
“Fell asleep on your bed,” Changsun says, smiling faintly. “Sanghyun drank too much again and I think Seungho-hyung went to sleep so he wouldn’t have to let me fuck him since it was supposed to be my turn tonight.”
Byunghee snorts. “You should’ve just screwed that shit and let him do what he wants.”
Changsun frowns-pouts. “He went three nights in a row,” he whines. “Fucking amazing and all but-like-think about my ass, hyung. I fucking swear he only pretends not to be athletic.”
The older man bursts into laughter, water bottle dropping into his lap as his hand goes to cover his mouth.
“Shut up,” Changsun laughs. “I want a turn too, okay?”
Byunghee rolls his eyes. “Why aren’t you asleep anyway?”
Changsun smiles, and shrugs. “Wanted to wait up for you-how was it?”
“I think,” Byunghee says slowly, breathing in and out deeply, “Seungho’s right-that I should stop while I still can-before I do it too many times and make it too regular of a thing.” He looks at Changsun’s eyes. “I don’t think I’m going to go back anymore.”
Changsun frowns. “How come?”
Byunghee stares. “What do you mean how come? It’s kind of-like-a whore club, y’know? And that kind of stuff isn’t really supposed to be something someone continuously does.”
“It’s going to sound weird as fuck,” Changsun says, almost sheepishly, hands folding together in front of himself as he leans forward. “But-I don’t know-it might be because of the new job or whatever, but you kind of seemed happier lately.” He shrugs again, seemingly smiling off the uncertainty of what he’s saying. “Maybe the sex with that guy’s really awesome or something but you-like-just-yeah. You’ve been kind of different-in the really good way.”
“It’s only been two weeks,” Byunghee says, frowning.
Changsun wrinkles his nose. “That’s what’s so weird. You haven’t even gone to that club that many times, but every time you go, it’s like it’s the greatest place ever.” He shrugs again. “I don’t know-maybe it’s just because you need to unwind and shit and it’s a good club. Fuck me if I know.”
Byunghee always hears that these days-a little too much-from his parents, from his sisters, from his new sunbaes at the office (who’ve known him literally for all of two little weeks)-mostly from Sanghyun and Seungho, and now even from Changsun. He hears that a little too much and knows that they’re all wrong because he doesn’t need to unwind. If he unwinds, his clock won’t be able to tell time anymore-clocks need to be winded up and that’s what Byunghee does-will do-will always do-has to do.
He has to wind the clock up from the start every single day, and he can’t have someone like Mir come into the picture. Even if Mir just remains as a tiny aspect of Byunghee’s life, someone who could even help the clock run more efficiently-in the end-there’s still the risk that Mir will become something that stops the clogs from running and Byunghee doesn’t want to break his clock.
Not a second time.
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: G-Mir
Summary: He doesn't want a one-night-distraction to turn into a full-time-disruption.
A/N: Seriously. MBLAQ just mess around with my heart for fun. T^T
Part 1 // Part 2
Friday
9:09 PM
Seungho makes a face. He sits on Byunghee’s bed while Changsun is outside in the living room, trying to wrestle Sanghyun’s phone away from him so the older man can see who Sanghyun texts all the time (they all suspect Sanghyun has a girlfriend-probably the translator girl who went abroad a year or two ago and they haven’t heard from since). “You’re going there again?” Seungho says, clearly disapproving as he looks Byunghee up and down while Byunghee fastens the buttons of his shirt.
“What do you mean again?” Byunghee snorts. “This is my regular source of sex for now, remember?”
“What happened to hooking up in a normal club and making normal sex friends the normal way?” Seungho asks dryly. “It’s not like no one wants to bang you. There’s plenty of hot fish in the sea that you don’t have to pay for.”
Byunghee grins at Seungho through the reflection in the mirror. “Not as hot as this one,” he says, meeting Seungho’s eyes. “Plus-he bends.”
Seungho’s eyes stretch slightly. “He bends?” and Byunghee almost laughs at the change in tone.
“Not as much as Changsunnie, but enough that-y’know,” and he meets his friend’s gaze significantly.
Seungho leans back against his arms and sighs. “Christ,” he says, almost dreamily, “I love dongsaengs that bend.”
“They’re the best.” Byunghee pushes his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. “So get off my back about it, okay?” he says lightly, punching the other man in the shoulder. “You take care of your bendy dongsaeng and I’ll take care of mine.”
Seungho suddenly jolts up into a sitting position, back straight and frowning. “Yours?” he asks, eyebrows knitting together. “You know how old the guy is? Even if he’s younger than you-”
“That’s all I meant,” Byunghee laughs. “Untwist your panties, grandpa-fucking, seriously. He’s not my dongsaeng,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t even fucking know his real name or age or whatever.”
Seungho’s gaze is still wary as Byunghee tucks his keys into his pocket and checks through his cell phone. “When was the last time you came to the studio?” Seungho asks, standing up and following Byunghee out of the bedroom (they ignore how Sanghyun’s neck is being elongated by way of Changsun’s leg-to-head-lock). “I haven’t heard you in ages and there’s new equipment there for-”
“I haven’t had time, okay?” Byunghee says absently, eyes searching the kitchen counter for his apartment card. “Starting a new job kind of takes time and not everyone has a trust fund the size of Antarctica waiting to back them up like a trampoline.”
Sanghyun looks up then (after somehow freeing himself from Changsun’s legs and, in turn, locking the older man between the younger man’s own long legs). “I don’t,” he says as Byunghee finally finds the apartment card slotted somewhere between the rice cooker and a water bottle.
Byunghee glances at him. “Right,” he says. “Yours is more like the size of Eurasia.” He tucks the card into his wallet and makes for the door, patting Seungho’s ass as he passes, and kicking Sanghyun lightly in the side. Only Changsun hasn’t said anything about how the club visits are steadily becoming more and more frequent, and Byunghee’s thankful-grateful.
Changsun merely slips out of Sanghyun’s legs and reaches up to thread his fingers together with Byunghee’s for a short moment. “Have fun,” the younger man grins.
A childhood best friend doesn’t always remain a best friend through toward adulthood-people change as they grow and the nature of their friends change along with them. Changsun was Byunghee’s closest childhood friend because when Byunghee was a child, he was full of dreams and romantic fantasies and fanciful ideas-the sort that make up Lee Changsun’s very being. By the time Byunghee met Seungho at the start of university, Byunghee was better suited for Seungho-still filled with dreams, but they’ve turned into active ideals rather than fanciful ideas.
But there’s no future without a past and a childhood’s worth of memories never disappears-the nature of an adult is always somehow rooted to the nature of a child and it’s not like Changsun hasn’t grown up either. And lately, more and more, Byunghee feels like he needs Changsun a little more than he needs Seungho.
Byunghee smiles back. “Thanks.”
Friday
10:22 PM
It’s one of the nights where Mir is out and about the club instead of sitting at the bar waiting for clients, or in his room (getting ready-finishing up). Byunghee manages to catch the younger man around the waist (tonight it’s pitch black leather with cuts all over, exposing infinitesimal strips of skin) in the space between the dance floor and the bar.
“Wow,” Mir laughs. “You’re early,” his head turns before his body does against Byunghee’s body, in Byunghee’s arms. “I didn’t even get to drink yet.”
“Oh,” Byunghee pulls away, walking backwards carefully to the bar and pulling Mir along by the hand. “So you have to be drunk to be with me?” They take two seats at the middle of the bar.
Mir just smiles (that smile-the smile where all of his perfectly white teeth show, face bright, eyes lit up), and takes the drink that the bartender automatically slides to him. Byunghee watches him take in half the contents of the glass in one swallow, foot tapping to the music and round eyes-cupped with liner as dark as the leather (making them look even rounder, even glossier)-watching the DJ stand.
“Are you going to dance for me?” Byunghee asks.
The younger man directs his eyes back to Byunghee, blinking in slight surprise. “No,” Mir says, playfully incredulous. “Whore and pole dancer aren’t synonymous, y’know,” he laughs. “Fucking trust me-you don’t want to see me dance.”
Byunghee raises his eyebrows.
Mir sticks out his tongue. “If you like dancers,” he says, “you should’ve found this place a whole lot earlier. There was this guy-right-he left around the same time I came. He was hot as fuck and he was a dancer-danced all the time for his clients. I heard he was amazing.”
“It’s not that I like dancers,” Byunghee says. “It’s just-I dunno-you look like you like music.”
Mir blinks, smiles unsurely. “Who doesn’t like music?”
“I mean,” Byunghee tries again, “like-you look like you love music.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying-doesn’t really understand why he’s saying this. Just like he told Seungho hours ago, Byunghee doesn’t know Mir at all-other than the name (not even a real name), Byunghee knows absolutely nothing about the younger man. So he has no idea why he’s saying this (probably the alcohol).
Mir’s expression is suddenly curious-the younger man tilts his head to the side, looking at Byunghee oddly. “Really?”
Byunghee looks away, heat in his ears. He’s about to glance back up and bring things to the backrooms since they’ve already talked more than enough (does the timer start when they meet or when he steps into the bedroom?) when he sees that Mir has slid off his chair, giving Byunghee a quick smile as the younger man starts to weave through the crowd, onto the dance floor.
He watches as Mir moves through the dance floor, not on it, all the way to the DJ’s stand-an elevated platform at the head of the club. Mir wraps an arm around the DJ’s waist (a tall young man who blinks until his eyes turn into crescents as he smiles at Mir) and whispers something when the DJ takes off one side of his headphones. Byunghee watches as Mir takes the headphones and puts them over his own ears, microphone in hand as the DJ steps back.
Mir’s body is already moving to the music even as his hands roam around the controls, changing the song into something hard, fast, and furious-something that makes the air in the club swelter and smolder-the kind of song that inspires dirty dancing with bodies pressed against bodies. And Byunghee just watches-can only watch (transfixed)-as the syllables, hard and fast and furious, begin pouring out of Mir’s mouth with rapid fire intensity.
He can barely comprehend what the song is about-the bass booms too much for Byunghee to hear every word that’s being fired like a bullet from the younger man’s lips. He can barely hear the lyrics, but in this atmosphere-in this place-in this situation-in this moment-that’s hardly the most important part of this. Because all that matters to Byunghee, right now, is how Mir is performing-the energy.
He hates it.
He hates the energy that’s dripping, pouring, off of Mir.
It’s enviable and tempting and delicious and perfect and Byunghee hates it. He hates the look in Mir’s eyes right now while the younger man is rapping, riding the adrenaline, riding the sound of the crowd. He hates the apparent, the clear, the very fucking obvious talent that’s dripping and pouring off of Mir because talent like this shouldn’t be showcased at a place like this.
Every performer has something different about them-something that they do best, that they can’t train to do better because it’s just something they’ve always had and will never be able to lose. With Seungho, with Joon, with Sanghyun, it’s all something different-but the feeling that they radiate when they perform is always the same. And-right now-right here-Byunghee feels that from Mir.
(With Mir-that something different-that something special-it’s the energy-his energy)
Byunghee hates it.
He wishes he could still perform like that.
Friday
10:27 PM
The moment Mir comes back to the bar (adrenaline dripping off of him, energy pouring out of him), Byunghee crushes their mouths together, slams their bodies together, and yanks the younger man (stumbling and roughly) as fast as he can into the dark hallway-into the backrooms.
Byunghee can’t talk with Mir anymore.
It’d hurt.
Saturday
1:03 AM
He doesn’t know how long they do it for until he looks at the timer.
All he knows is that they do it (hard and fast and rough every single time with Byunghee feeding off of every particle of energy radiating off of Mir) until the younger man passes out-they do it until Byunghee doesn’t know if the splotches all over Mir’s body are hickeys or bruises, until Byunghee has to stop the timer himself because Mir is unconscious and unmoving on the bed.
He swipes his credit card and signs the screen with the stylus. There are still beads of sweat against the sides of his face and every breath he takes still shudders throughout his entire body-but it’s not from weariness, not from exhaustion from the exertion he’s just gone through.
Maybe Seungho was right.
Byunghee should’ve stuck to the way he’s always done things-should’ve just gone to a regular club, picked up a regular man or woman, and hooked up with them in the regular way. He should’ve stuck to the routine-his precious, treasured clockwork routine of doing everything because that’s how regular people like him survive (Seungho and Changsun and Sanghyun don’t have to because they aren’t regular-their parents’ bank accounts aren’t regular and so they don’t have to be-don’t have to survive like Byunghee does).
He’s not coming back-and in the occasion that he does come back, he’s not going to be Mir’s client anymore. Mir is dangerous-is a hazard to Byunghee’s clockwork routine, could possibly break the clock that Byunghee’s worked so hard to get working, to get all the clogs going in all the right directions.
Saturday
2:38 AM
Changsun is still awake when Byunghee finally gets back to his apartment. The younger man sits on the sofa, legs up on the table and eyes instantly flying to Byunghee as he walks through the doorway. They only meet gazes for a short instant-while the older man takes off his coat and scarf and tosses it over one of the smaller sofas. “You drank,” Changsun states plainly.
Byunghee shrugs, taking out a bottle of water and coming to sit beside him.
“You drank a lot,” Changsun states-this time, not so plainly-a little bit of emotion injected in.
“Where’re they?” Byunghee asks, ignoring the comment. He glances around with no sign of the other two.
“Fell asleep on your bed,” Changsun says, smiling faintly. “Sanghyun drank too much again and I think Seungho-hyung went to sleep so he wouldn’t have to let me fuck him since it was supposed to be my turn tonight.”
Byunghee snorts. “You should’ve just screwed that shit and let him do what he wants.”
Changsun frowns-pouts. “He went three nights in a row,” he whines. “Fucking amazing and all but-like-think about my ass, hyung. I fucking swear he only pretends not to be athletic.”
The older man bursts into laughter, water bottle dropping into his lap as his hand goes to cover his mouth.
“Shut up,” Changsun laughs. “I want a turn too, okay?”
Byunghee rolls his eyes. “Why aren’t you asleep anyway?”
Changsun smiles, and shrugs. “Wanted to wait up for you-how was it?”
“I think,” Byunghee says slowly, breathing in and out deeply, “Seungho’s right-that I should stop while I still can-before I do it too many times and make it too regular of a thing.” He looks at Changsun’s eyes. “I don’t think I’m going to go back anymore.”
Changsun frowns. “How come?”
Byunghee stares. “What do you mean how come? It’s kind of-like-a whore club, y’know? And that kind of stuff isn’t really supposed to be something someone continuously does.”
“It’s going to sound weird as fuck,” Changsun says, almost sheepishly, hands folding together in front of himself as he leans forward. “But-I don’t know-it might be because of the new job or whatever, but you kind of seemed happier lately.” He shrugs again, seemingly smiling off the uncertainty of what he’s saying. “Maybe the sex with that guy’s really awesome or something but you-like-just-yeah. You’ve been kind of different-in the really good way.”
“It’s only been two weeks,” Byunghee says, frowning.
Changsun wrinkles his nose. “That’s what’s so weird. You haven’t even gone to that club that many times, but every time you go, it’s like it’s the greatest place ever.” He shrugs again. “I don’t know-maybe it’s just because you need to unwind and shit and it’s a good club. Fuck me if I know.”
Byunghee always hears that these days-a little too much-from his parents, from his sisters, from his new sunbaes at the office (who’ve known him literally for all of two little weeks)-mostly from Sanghyun and Seungho, and now even from Changsun. He hears that a little too much and knows that they’re all wrong because he doesn’t need to unwind. If he unwinds, his clock won’t be able to tell time anymore-clocks need to be winded up and that’s what Byunghee does-will do-will always do-has to do.
He has to wind the clock up from the start every single day, and he can’t have someone like Mir come into the picture. Even if Mir just remains as a tiny aspect of Byunghee’s life, someone who could even help the clock run more efficiently-in the end-there’s still the risk that Mir will become something that stops the clogs from running and Byunghee doesn’t want to break his clock.
Not a second time.