Scrooge It Up
Title: Scrooge It Up
Pairings: YunJae
Length: 1/8
Genre: Romance; Supernatural; Angst; Humor; Fluff
Rating: NC17
Plot by: gaypop
Disclaimer: Changmin's in my closet. Nothing else is mine, however. Just the story.
Summary: Jung Yunho is a ruthless business man who equates everyone he sees with a means to achieve something. He uses everyone, from the milkman to his brother-in-law. One day, however, he is brought face to face with the Ghost of Christmas (Jaejoong for short).
Part 1
The old man sat rooted to his seat, unable to comprehend what the man in front of him had just said. “What... You're... firing me?”
His employer stood behind his desk, back to him as he checked his pager. Then he turned around, flipping through his files distractedly. “Yes,” he replied before sitting on the edge of the desk. “But don't think of it as that. Think of it as... forced retirement,” he supplied cheerfully. He reached over to the other side of the desktop, picking a candy from one of the bowls and offering it to the newly fired individual. When the other man simply stared at it, he shrugged, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth.
The employee paused for a moment before attempting a small smile, pleading. “But, Jung-seonsaengnim*, I need this job. My wife... she's dying. She needs the health care I get here for her medicine. I'm trying to keep her here as long as possi-”
“That's very unfortunate, so I'll tell you what,” Jung Yunho said, standing and placing his hands on the desktop. “You'll continue to receive the health care benefits along with the two hundred dollar per hour salary-”
The man's grin grew to reach his ears.
“-for another two weeks. This is your two week notice, after all, as was mentioned five minutes ago.”
The employee's smile died on his lips. His eyes began to water, but it was only when his bottom lip quivered that Yunho rolled his eyes and came around to the other side of his desk to take the man's warm hands into his own. “Look,” he began with a sympathetic smile that meant nothing. He held the other's hands close to his chest. “Life goes on-well, maybe not for your wife, but that doesn't apply.”
The man's mouth gaped in horror.
Yunho waved his comment off, kissing the man's knuckles in a warm gesture before piercing him with his eyes. “You're fired. Get over it.”
He then stood up, pulling his ringing phone from his pocket as he let the other's hands go. The man looked at them as if they'd been burned. Yunho flipped the mobile open, pressing it to his ear.
“Oh, hey, Yoochun!” he greeted, giving one last pat on the man's back for good measure before leaving the room. The older man remained where he was, curling in on himself as the door swung shut.
“Hi, Yunho,” the person on the other line replied. “Hey, it's my birthday, you know.”
“Oh,” Yunho hummed, feigning interest as he waved and smiled to a group of lawyers being lead down the hall.
His secretary began walking behind him, flipping through a binder hurriedly. “Sir, you have a meeting in three minutes.”
Her boss simply nodded at her, willing her to leave him alone. She continued to follow him. “Well, Happy Birthday. Sorry I forgot.”
“You forget every year and you're never really sorry. The only holiday you remember is your own birthday,” Yoochun explained, rolling his eyes. “Come to the celebration, though.”
“I'm hurt,” Yunho replied.
“No, you're not.”
“Sir,” called Yunho's secretary. He glanced at her as they turned a corner. “You have five new cases. The files are on your desk.”
“Not sure if I'll be able to make it. I'm very busy,” Yunho continued. “I'll try my best, though.”
“You are not busy and you wouldn't try even if you could. My wife is your secretary, remember?”
Yunho paused, looking at the woman behind him. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“There will be booze and hoes,” Yoochun offered. “Just be there.”
“Is there any special reason I need to? You've never cared about little ole' me before,” Yunho asked, smirking.
“That's because you're Satan. And, yeah. Dad'll be there.”
“Ooh,” Yunho cooed. “Booze and hoes, did you say?”
The other man groaned. “Could you please just say you're coming so I can hang up the phone and puke?”
Yunho chuckled in amusement. “Sure, if Pops is gonna be there, why not? Where is it?”
“The White Hat. I'm judging you know where that is?”
Yunho gasped in fake shock. “Yoochun-ah, you don't think I'd spend time at a strip club, now would you?”
He heard a groan and an oh god before the dial tone flooded his ear. He clicked the phone shut with another chuckle.
His secretary was still behind him. He crossed his arms, switching effortlessly into business mode. “What else is there?”
She mimicked his position, crossing her arms as well and narrowing her eyes challengingly. “His wife was dying, sir. His wife.”
Yunho frowned. “You told me to be sympathetic with him. I thought I was. I even took his hands.”
“Yeah, like a freak,” she added, shaking her head. “You were cruel. She was dying. As in, never going to see the sunlight again.”
Her boss scoffed, turning to press the button for the elevator. “So is our grandmother, but you don't see me complaining.”
“Grandma's already dead, Yunho-oh, I mean, sir,” she informed him, rolling her eyes. “The funeral was two days ago.”
Yunho turned to stare at her. “I'm appalled. Why wasn't I invited?”
“You were. I handed you the invitation a week ago.”
He blinked in surprise. “Huh.”
The elevator doors opened, and Yunho stepped inside.
His secretary called out to him as an afterthought. “He hates you, you know.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”
“Yoochun.”
Yunho smiled. “Great. Another person I can cross off the `like me' list.”
She smirked. “You have enough people to make a list?”
He chuckled. “Later, Sis.”
The doors began to close, but his sister suddenly pushed them open again. “Yunho,” she started, staring into his eyes. “I just want to say...”
As she trailed off, Yunho checked his watch. “Well, make it quick. I have a meeting in thirty seconds.”
After a moment, she regained herself, stepping back with a sense of incredulity. “Um, never mind.”
Yunho stared at her, eyes shifting. “Um, Okay?”
With that, the doors closed, blocking her brother from view. The woman remained where she was, attempting to shake herself out of the stupor she had somehow fallen into. What had just happened? There had been a feeling. Nothing extreme, just strange, as if there was something in the air, whispering in her ear and wrapping around her brother. Like something was going to happen.
But that's all it was. A drifting feeling.
*
Yoochun, for having invited him and even going so far as to make him promise to come, didn't look all that enthusiastic when Yunho paraded into the club. As soon as the business man had stepped through the red-cushioned doors, two girls were grabbing onto each of his arms like they belonged there. Hell, maybe they did. Yoochun wouldn't put it past his brother-in-law to have 'sluts' down on his list of favorite accessories.
“Yoochun!” Yunho greeted when he spotted him, striding quickly over to the younger man's bar stool, and Yoochun had to suppress the need to hurl. “Happy birthday!”
“Oh joy,” Yoochun replied monotonously. “So glad you could make it.”
Yunho acted like he hadn't heard the sarcasm dripping off the other man's words, but both of them knew it was a farce. The older man was enjoying it too much to not have noticed it. “What a party, I must say,” he commented with a sweep of his hand (indicating the pumping dance floor, the topless strippers, the teasing hostesses, and the people actually already having sex in a few back rooms made solely from glass). “You must have invited everyone you know,” he added with a chuckle. He smiled down at the girl to his right. “Like this pretty girl. Yoochun, you must introduce us.” The girl blushed, giggling softly.
Yoochun rolled his eyes, turning back to his drink. His night had just gotten considerably longer. “Catherine, he's the devil. Run and don't look back.”
At that, the girl's smile faded to a look of confused uncertainty, glancing at the younger man apprehensively. Yunho was quick to turn her head back to him with the push of a finger, however, throwing her his infamous charming smile. “So, your name's Catherine, then? Did your parents have a thing for western names?” The girl was blushing again instantly, as if Yoochun hadn't hindered her at all.
Yoochun just shook his head, giving up on saving the poor girl from the older man's manipulative clutches. At least she got some money out of it. He lifted his glass to his lips.
Yunho glanced at him, lip curling in disgust. “What are you drinking? Is that a cocktail?” Without waiting for an answer, the business man waved over the bartender. “Something stronger for the birthday boy,” he ordered, shooing the girls away. The two strippers moved away disappointedly, sharing a distinct pout.
Yoochun sighed as Yunho slapped him on the back and sat at the bar beside him. “So,” the older man started, smirking coyly. “What is my little brother planning on doing with the rest of the night? You can't possibly be planning on hiding here in the corner the whole party, now can you?”
“Well, you touched me, so a shower has now been added to my schedule,” Yoochun shot back, not bothering to even spare his brother-in-law a glance. “Besides that, no. Nothing planned.”
“You were always so boring,” Yunho informed him with a hint of fake disappointment, shaking his head. “It's sad, really.”
“What's sad is that you were allowed to exist,” Yoochun spat with no real malice. He'd stopped wasting that on Yunho years ago.
The business man chuckled again, taking the insult as it came. “Oh, is that really how you see it? You married my sister, if I remember correctly.”
“Your sister has a heart,” the younger man told him crossly.
Yunho's grin widened. “Well, that certainly puts an end to my fantasies of you simply marrying her to get to me.”
Yoochun gagged on his cocktail before another glass (filled with some dark liquid he couldn't identify) was placed in front of him by the cheery bartender.
“Yes,” Yunho continued, sighing forlornly. He looked out on the dance floor with little interest. “I wonder what my dear sister would think if she found out her husband was having a party at a strip club, of all places. It does really make one wonder.”
The younger man snorted. “That won't work with me, Yunho. She's here.”
There was a brief shadow of a frown on Yunho's lips before it was replaced by his signature smirk. “But what would happen if she were to be told that her husband knows the name of a stripper, oh goodness.”
At that, Yoochun slammed his glass on the counter with a groan. “Jesus, Yunho, what do you want?”
The business man grinned in triumph. “Where's the old man?”
His brother-in-law snorted in disbelief, glaring at him in what looked like disgust. “Do you have to turn every godforsaken question into blackmail?”
Yunho was hardly phased, choosing to simply turn up his nose at the question with his usual arrogance. “Of course. It's the only way to get anywhere in life,” he replied like it was as obvious as the air in front of their faces.
Yoochun shook his head. “You're impossible to deal with,” he muttered before turning to scan the table lined up beside the dance floor. He waved to one distractedly, sipping his drink. “There he is. Go away.”
Yunho chuckled in amusement, turning away to make his way towards his father. Behind him, he faintly recognized Yoochun's snappy request for the bartender to poor whatever Yunho ordered for him down the sink.
His father, a fairly older version of himself, glanced up from his table distractedly when the business man sidled into his peripheral vision. He tsked, in disapproval or simple recognition, Yunho chose to ignore. The older man waved off the girls clinging to his arms, both so young that they could have been his granddaughters. “Yunho, my son,” he greeted the business man, indicating the seat across from him. “You made it. Take a seat.”
“I only came for you, father,” Yunho informed him, smiling widely as he claimed the offered chair and folding his arms over the table.
“As I thought you would,” was his father's reply, lifting a beer bottle to his lips. “That's why I came, as well. We need to talk business.”
Yunho's smile widened as he nodded. He knew his father as well as he knew himself. Hell, he was his father, everything from the slicked-back hair down to the Italian leather shoes. And his father didn't do parties. Especially not Yoochun's.
“Choi Shiwon,” the older man began, sitting back in his seat. He let the name float in the air, eyes sparkling amusedly as his son's smile shriveled into a scowl, before continuing. “The boy has already snatched the Daesung deal from under your nose, Yunho, and now he''s heading fr something else. Something bigger.”
Yunho tensed. He'd lost the Daesung deal four years ago, and despite the fact that his company had generously higher profit and ratings, as well as the most gifted staff one could find in the entire country, his father was still unwilling to let him live it down. “Don't tell me,” he said wearily, rubbing at his eyes. “He wants the TOP deal, now.”
“If Choi is able to merge with Seunghyun, it will be the death of your company,” the older man informed him, mouth set in a stern frown. “Of my company.”
His son raised his chin proudly. “Father, you left the company to me,” he told the other man, to which the only reply he received was an annoyed snort. “I will put something together, something Choi Seunghyun cannot pass up.”
“You better,” the older man growled, stern eyes turning dangerous. “If he decides to go for Shiwon-”
Yunho stood up, fixing his tie and cutting into his father's warning; he heard the threat loud and clear without it being said. “Don't worry, father,” he assured the older man, bowing low. “I won't let you down.
As if to prove that Yunho had worn his patience thin by having the audacity to speak to him, his father snorted, turning away with a practiced finality. “Good. Now, go.”
Yunho bowed again, this time keeping his mouth shut, before creeping away silently. Wondering what he should do to waste time for the remainder of the party, he briefly considered the dance floor before spotting a secluded booth built into the wall. He sauntered over to it lazily, dragging three descent looking strippers along with him as he passed them. They each took one oblique glance at his tailored suit and latched onto him eagerly.
Yunho might have been, as Yoochun so disdainfully called him, the Antichrist, but he was always a gentleman before anything else (for who knew when the occasion would arise when he needed to use someone? People preferred to be used by someone likable-whether it was a sham or not). So he stepped to the side, taking the hand of the first of the three girls, kissed it, and helped her to sit in the booth nearest the wall. He did the same with one of the others, eyes twinkling, before sliding in next to her. He then pulled the last girl onto the seat next to the aisle.
“So, ladies,” he began, reaching past the girl to his left and lifting a glass off of a passing tray, “what are each of your specialties?”
The girls didn't seem all that surprised by the crudeness of the question, given their occupation, if at all. They didn't even bat an eye. The one nearest the wall cleared her throat. “Well, mine would be-”
“Jokes, I'm guessing?” the business man interrupted her, smirking inwardly when she blinked in surprise. That definitely got her attention. He dropped his eyes to the girl between her and himself, eyes thoughtful. He hummed in contemplation. “And you, I'd say... ghost stories. You probably have everyone up all night every time you go camping, don't you? You should invite me sometime.” When he was positive that the skinny blond couldn't possibly smile any wider, he turned in his seat to inspect the last of the three, who was staring at him with pleasant curiosity. He had to bit back a snicker. She was probably thinking that he was different than everyone else she'd met in this club. That he was the one, the one who she had known she'd meet doing this job. How wonderful. “And of course, this pretty lady,” he murmured while lifting his drink to his lips, grinning when she blushed the color of her maroon bra, “I would guess that you're the best smors maker in Seoul. You know how to get the heat just right, with the perfect combination of marshmallows and Hershey's chocolate. Hell, you don't stop at Hershey's, either, do you? You've experimented with Butterfingers, Milkyways, even the good old Musketeers. You know how to whip M'n'Ms 'till they're all creamy and can be eaten off a spoon. And the way you handle gram crackers... oh, baby, any man would be lucky to be fed by you.”
All three of the girls squealed in delight, leaning even farther into him. Yunho chuckled triumphantly.
That was when someone slipped free from the writhing dance floor and into the opposite side the booth.
Yunho stared at the stranger sitting across from him, a young man barely into his twenties. The boy quirked an eyebrow at him, lifting his legs and dropping his boots onto the table. Yunho's eyes narrowed, wrinkling his nose at the rude gesture. The boots didn't stink, but it was still unsanitary to put your feet on a surface commonly used for eating.
“Who are you?” the older man asked suspiciously, making the girls around him stop giggling.
The boy flicked his fringe out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear as he opened his mouth to respond. His answer, however, was drowned out by the booming music surrounding them.
Yunho furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, leaning forward so he could hear better. “What?” he yelled over the noise.
The younger man sighed, looking irritated at having to repeat himself. He dropped his feet to the floor (something Yunho was quite happy about) before leaning forward so his nose was three centimeters from Yunho's.
The older man was caught off guard when all sound around them stopped. The music, the voices, the phones, even the three girls sitting next to him were completely mute, mouths flapping away uselessly.
All he heard was the boy's voice, loud and clear: “I'm the Ghost of Christmas.”
Yunho's eyes widened, staring at the other man like he'd grown a second head, when the noise started up again, knocking him back into his seat. He winced as his eardrums throbbed in disapproval, but he still noticed that the noise was quieter, lower. At first, he thought that the DJ had just decided to lower the volume for whatever reason, but then the girls were speaking to him with worried faces, voices muffled in a way that could not be normal.
The business man raised accusatory eyes to the boy sitting across from him, but the boy wasn't phased in the least. He simply leaned back in his seat, meeting his gaze challengingly. Yunho tried to shake the situation off; it's not like the volume of the club had anything to do with what the boy had just said. His ears were just stocked up.
He attempted a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “That's funny,” he commented, wincing at how loud his voice was compared to everything else. “But, really, who are you?”
“I'm being serious,” the boy replied, expression bored, and Yunho cursed under his breath. His ears weren't stocked up at all.
“`The Ghost of Christmas'?” Yunho asked, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it. Sure, right now everything seemed pretty fucked up, but he wasn't an idiot. Drunk, maybe, but never an idiot. “Seriously, I'm not five. How stupid do you take me for?”
The boy (whoever he was) rolled his eyes, obviously expecting this reaction. “Answering that question will get us nowhere, Jung. You're my new charge.”
“Your new what?” the older man asked, starting to get severely pissed off. His eyes narrowed. “I don't know who you are-”
“I told you who I am.”
“Shut up!” Yunho yelled, ripping his arm away from the two girls who were trying desperately to get his attention. “Look, whoever you are, you're not getting anything from me.”
The boy grimaced, looking insulted, or maybe just nauseous. Yunho couldn't say he'd never seen that look before. “I don't want anything from you.”
“Is this some sort of sick joke?” Yunho asked suddenly, leaning forward threateningly. Then realization dawned on his face, and his rage subsided as he raised curious eyes to meet the boy's. “Wait, are you a hooker? And the whole `Ghost of Christmas' thing is just a fetish or something? 'Cause I'm not even the birthday boy-”
At that, the boy looked like he wanted to puke. “Oh, god, no! That's disgusting.”
“Then what the hell is this?” Yunho asked exasperatedly, eyes hardening once more. “Are you trying to be funny?”
The raven sighed. “Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?” he asked.
Yunho responded with a scoff. “Oh, god.”
The boy ignored him. “It's kinda like that.”
“So, what?” the older man asked, climbing to his feet. “Are you going to show me my past, present, and future, now?”
If the boy was at all intimidated by his dominating aura, he didn't show it. He just looked more frustrated. “That's not exactly how this works.”
Yunho growled, slamming his fist onto the table. He could be a (semi) good guy when he was supposed to be, but he wasn't known for his patience, and what little he had of it left was running out. “Did someone put you up to this? Was it Yoochun?”
The raven chose to simply disregard that question, instead closing his eyes. When he opened them, the three girls at Yunho's sides began speaking at once, voices no longer sounding like a wet cloth had been thrown over them.
“Oppa, what's wrong?” one of them asked, tugging at his pant leg.
“Who are you talking to?” another asked, to which Yunho's only reply was to stare at her before glancing at the boy in alarm. The raven only rolled his eyes.
“Oppa,” started the last one, looking thoroughly concerned, “No one's there.”
Now Yunho glared down at the boy across the table, utterly furious. The fact that the boy was completely unaffected only aided the fire. “So, they're working with you, then?”
At this, the raven couldn't suppress a grown. “No, Jung, they aren't. They can't even see me.”
“You know my name. You have to be working with someone,” Yunho told him, disregarding the boy's attempt at explanation. “Yoochun, I'm guessing, but I wouldn't put it past any other bloodsucking parasite I work with.”
The boy pinched the bridge of his nose. “The fact that you use metaphors such as 'bloodsucking parasite' is the precise reason I'm here.”
“Jesus Christ, who are you working for?” Yunho yelled, startling the girls into silence once again.
The raven looked up at him defiantly, danger flashing in his dark eyes. “God, that's who.”
“I don't believe in God,” Yunho replied, eyes narrowing even further.
“Well, good, 'cause he's not too fucking thrilled with you, either,” the boy shot back, crossing his arms. Yunho hated that it was the only semi-aggressive reaction he could get out of the younger man.
The business man shook his head, grabbing his coat and flinging it over his shoulder. “Well, you tell God, or whoever the fuck is trying to make a fool out of me, that when I find him, I'm going to run whatever company he's working for into the ground.”
The boy snorted. “You fucking business men, you're so fucking stubborn. You're the hardest to work with.”
“Proud of it,” seethed the older man, brushing over the fact that he still wasn't sure what the boy was talking about. He turned to leave the booth. “I'm leaving.”
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” the raven replied, checking his watch.
Yunho ignored his warning, pushing the girl blocking his way to the ground. As soon as he stepped outside the safety of the table, the full volume of the club (the music, the screaming, the yelling) hit him like a freight train. He stumbled slightly, hand raising to cradle his head as he continued forward, refusing to retreat back to the table and that damn mystery boy.
As he tried to make his way through the dance floor, many hands reached out to hinder his escape. Bodies, both male and female, moved up against him, rubbing themselves up and down his body like a bear on a tree. Under usual circumstances, he would have loved it, basked in the glow of everyone wanting to stake their claim on him (because, let's be honest, he was sexy), but tonight, the circumstances were anything but normal. So he pushed them away, having to get violent with the few who persisted.
When he was finally free of the mass of erratically moving bodies, he ran straight into-as luck would have it-Yoochun. His brother-in-law stared at him, and Yunho guessed that he probably looked just as alarmed and mortified as he felt.
“Are you okay, Yunho?” the shorter man asked him, laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder.
The gesture brought a flash of that raven haired boy to mind, and Yunho slapped the hand away, anger flaring. “You.”
Yoochun blinked, looking thoroughly confused, but Yunho didn't buy it. He couldn't buy it, because the boy had to be working for him. Well, maybe not him, maybe someone else. Like Choi Shiwon, the bastard. “What did I do?” he asked, ready to defend himself if he needed to.
Yunho only glanced over his shoulder, locating the table he had just bolted from. His eyes widened when he spotted the three girls, all talking hurriedly, but no boy. The little devil was nowhere to be found.
“Yunho?” Yoochun tried again, attempting to touch his shoulder once more.
This time, Yunho completely ignored him, pushing past him with a little too much force as he headed for the door. He heard someone call after him, and he knew it was either Yoochun again or his father, but he couldn't distinguish which one and he didn't currently have the decency to care.
He reached the door quicker than he'd expected, slamming through it and starting towards his car. What the fuck was all that?
Then he stopped short, eyes widening when he saw his car, a very familiar figure leaning against it. The boy from earlier had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, breath coming out in tiny puffs. He raised an eyebrow at the older man.
Yunho turned away, deciding to take a taxi instead. He had more than enough cars, anyway. He wouldn't miss this one.
“Wait!”
The business man did his best to not hear the shouts coming from behind him, speeding up so he was almost at a run, but not quite.
“Hey! Jung Yunho! Wait!”
Yunho cursed, almost at the corner where he'd turn onto the freeway.
Suddenly, the boy popped up in front of him, panting and looking extremely annoyed. “I said wait, dammit!”
Yunho yelped, falling back in surprise. He made a very undignified squeak as his backside connected with the ground. “Ow! What the hell-”
“Well, you wouldn't stop!” the boy justified, brushing his hair from face only to have it fall back again.
“Where did you come from?” Yunho asked, climbing to his feet and rubbing his ass. Ah, fuck, it was going to bruise in the morning, most likely.
“It's called teleportation,” the raven informed him, still looking downright pissed for being ignored. “Isn't that what ghosts are known for doing? Popping up at random places?”
Yunho growled, glaring at the shorter man in determination. “You are not the Ghost of fucking Christmas!”
The raven simply stood tall, disregarding the fact that he wasn't exactly tall enough, glaring fiercely right back. “Oh, so every random guy you meet can teleport?”
“You didn't teleport,” the older man corrected him, tearing his eyes away. The boy's eyes were way too deep to look into and not loose track of whatever the hell you were thinking. “You ran, and somehow caught up to me. I just didn't see you come around me.”
“Oh, that's bullshit and you know it,” the raven replied, crossing his arms. “I wasn't in front of you, and then I was. There's no explanation for that.”
“Maybe, but it wasn't teleportation,” Yunho grunted stubbornly. He was right, and the other man was going to agree with him whether he liked it or not. “No one can teleport. They've never made the technology.”
“Technology is irrelevant if you're dead,” the boy informed him impatiently. “Which I am. Ask me when I was born.”
“No!” the business man yelled. Seriously, something was wrong with this kid if he thought he was going to fall for that. “What the hell do you want, anyway?” he asked, deciding to just get this over with. The boy was never going to leave him alone, otherwise.
The raven clenched his teeth, frustrated beyond belief with the man in front of him. It almost made Yunho smile in satisfaction. “I told you. I'm the Ghost of Christmas.”
“You're on drugs, that's what you are,” Yunho replied, shaking his head. He was starting to contemplate calling the police.
At that, the boy's eyes flashed blue, startling Yunho into immobility. “Jung Yunho. Birth date: February 6, 1985. Age: 28. Occupation: litigation officer. Vehicles: Lexus, Hummer, Porsche, Jaguar, and three other sports cars. Residence: 1758 Hakyo Dae street, fourth apartment to the right, second floor-”
“You know where I live?” Yunho interrupted, paling in horror. “So you're a stalker as well as a freak?”
The boy hollered in frustration, advancing on the older man. Yunho stepped back with every step the boy took forward. “I am the Ghost of Christmas. You are a fucking scrooge who cares nothing for anyone but yourself. And I've got until Christmas morning to make you shit rainbows and unicorns. You get me?”
Yunho attempted a careless smirk to mask his growing fear. “I thought angels weren't supposed to curse.”
Something dark filled the boy's eyes, making him even angrier. “I'm not a fucking angel!”
Yunho shivered, the smirk falling from his face as the yell didn't only come at him from the boy's mouth, but from everywhere, almost knocking him off his feet once more.
At the business man's look of panic and fear, the raven deflated, taking a deep breath. “Besides,” he added, voice marginally calmer and quieter, “cursing, though frowned upon, isn't actually one of the Eight Deadly Sins.”
Yunho, unsure if he was allowed to speak just yet, was quiet until he finally dared to ask a question. “Aren't there only seven Deadly Sins?”
“For humans,” the boy informed him, eyes lowered, before he narrowed them, lifting them to meet the older man's. “So, do you believe me now?” he asked, voice tight.
Yunho sighed before shaking his head. “No, actually. Yes, you're weird, but really? Ghost of Christmas? Come on.” He then rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “I'm calling the police.”
The raven groaned, apparently used to this. “Why do they always...” he muttered to himself, before yanking the phone out of the business man's hands.
Yunho gaped at him, reaching for the phone and groping wildly like a child when the boy simply held it out of reach. The taller man tensed, his anger starting to return. Whoever this boy was, he better back off. Yunho was done playing games.
“Give. Me. My. Phone,” he ordered, voice low and threatening.
The raven only raised his eyebrow again, infuriating him further. “No.”
With that, Yunho snapped, willing all of his unused wrestling skills to return as he surged forward, jumping in to tackle the boy to the ground.
He grunted as he hit pavement, knee knocking the concrete in a way it did not agree with. He let out a cough, eyes growing confused when he realized that he was the only one on the ground. He looked over his shoulder.
The boy was standing in the exact same spot he had been before, dangling the cellphone between his fingers as if it were a dog toy. The raven smirked. “Oh, did the poor boy hurt himself?” He leaned forward, hand on his knees, and waved the phone an inch in front of his nose. “Is this what you want? Come and get it. Come on boy! Come on!”
Yunho growled, lifting his foot to kick at the boy's shin, but his loafer met nothing but air. He froze.
After several long moments of staring at his leg, which was sticking out of the boy's shin, he finally got the courage to lift his eyes to meet the younger man's. The raven was watching him, eyes sad and cold. Empty. The eyes of the-
“I told you I was dead,” he whispered, and a shiver ran down Yunho's spine. Then the raven dropped the phone, neither of them paying it any heed as it fell to the concrete.
The clatter it made snapped Yunho from his trance. He immediately began scrambling backwards, ignoring the pathetic cries of fear that left his mouth as he did so.
The boy's eyes softened instantly, taking a step forward. “Yunho, wait-”
The business man shook his head frantically, shoving himself to his feet so quickly that he almost fell over again. His breath caught in his throat as he felt a feather-light, ice cold touch on his elbow try to steady him. He yanked his arm away violently, staring at the boy in mortification.
“You touched me,” he breathed, barely recognizing his own voice in his panic.
The raven nodded, trying to take another step forward. “Well, yes,” he replied awkwardly.
“You,” Yunho repeated, unsure of whether he was informing the boy in front of him or just trying to get it to register in his head, “You touched me.” A ghost touched me.
“Yunho,” the raven soothed, eyes gentle and arms raised in a gesture that Yunho guessed probably meant that he didn't intend to hurt him. “You need to calm down.”
The older man only shook his head again, turning away and bolting for his car.
The boy cursed, but stayed where he was. “Yunho, don't run away!” he pleaded the taller man's retreating back, throwing his hands into the air. “That never solves anything!”
Yunho wasn't listening. He fished his keys from his front pocket, grateful for the button that unlocked the doors; he doubted he'd be able to handle an old fashioned key with his shaky hands. He was inside the car in two seconds flat, glancing fleetingly in his rear view mirror. The boy wasn't where he'd left him.
Cursing, he whirled around to check his backseat, smiling in relief when he found it empty. He didn't turn around fast enough, though, as he laid his foot on the petal before he knew where he was going. Turning in his seat, he slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting someone, though only two seconds later he realized it was the raven he'd left behind.
He could drive through him, right? Ghosts could go through cars, couldn't they? He took a moment to observe the younger man.
The boy was staring back at him pleadingly, and he briefly wondered if this happened every time the ghost needed to approach someone. His cheeks were more flushed than they had been a few minutes ago. Was the cold getting to him? Did ghosts get cold?
Shaking his head, the business man turned away, maneuvering around the boy to get to the freeway. The raven glared at him, mouthing some words that Yunho was glad he couldn't hear.
It was when he hit the freeway, and a wave of relief crashed over him, that one of the yells got to him, whispered clearly against his ear: “See you at home, Jung Yunho.”
A/N: I have no idea when this will be updated. I actually didn't want to upload this until I was done with all 8 parts, but I've made gaypop wait long enough. BB, I'm sorry it took so long, and I'm sorry I won't update for a while :( And wtf? Why can't I center?