called legend for a reason, i guess..
My epic Shinhwa fic. Of 4,000 words. Eh I'm still getting used to writing these guys. I love them so much it's difficult.
way for victory
shinhwa au
throw my fist mv universe (watch it!)
pg-13
ricwan, tiiiny woodong & ricsyung
lots of cursing & badassery. you have been warned. and obviously none of it is real or belonging to me.
So there he is, lip bleeding and bruises and burns here and there all over his face because the fucker likes to wear rings. Shouldn't there be rules, Eric thinks as he opens his hand and closes it back to a fist, but then he could've pulled out a knife himself, stopped this amateur fisticuffs - like two school boys on the playground. He could've done that, yeah, but perhaps he'd wanted a bit of hands on work, all that sneaking around, tailing and info gathering had gotten boring.
His hair is a mess. His trousers are dirty and and soaked at the legs - there is so much water on the concrete.
He's not winning, but neither is Dongwan, spitting blood and cursing beneath his breath, still standing but only barely.
Eric drops onto the concrete, his legs failing him, but he's not losing. He breathes roughly and stares at Dongwan, feeling the cut lip with his tongue. It doesn't hurt as bad as some of the other wounds.
Dongwan wipes sweat with his sleeve.
“Fuck this shit,” Eric says. “Fuck it.”
“What?” Dongwan asks irritably and Eric realizes he's never heard his voice before. It sounds different than he imagined, but not in a bad way.
“The old man behind the desk, he's just fucking playing with us, isn't he,” Eric begins, as Dongwan continues to stare at him in confusion. “He gives us a task - bring this guy to me, dead or alive. Only you're my task, and I'm yours, so if he wants either of us dead or alive, why doesn't he just give us a call to come over?”
Dongwan snorts in disbelief, but Eric continues. “So it's a test, but shit, dude, I already shot a man as an exam. If I'd want to sit another, I'd go back to school.”
“And the decoys,” Dongwan begins but trails off soon and Eric watches him piece together the whole scheme of events.
“A game,” he says.
“Shit,” Dongwan replies. “I mean .. fuck.”
“Royally fucked over,” Eric agrees.
Then Dongwan laughs, and takes a step or two closer, and for a while Eric thinks he's getting a kick or a punch. Instead, Dongwan offers a hand and a smile.
“Soju?” Dongwan asks.
Like they hadn't just been happily killing each other minutes ago.
“Sure,” Eric says.
**
Dongwan got the file from the man behind the big desk.
No name. No job. No location. Just a picture of a man in a white suit, dark hair slicked back.
Dongwan set to work, not asking questions, never finding out why finding the man - in whatever condition - was so crucial. Just the way things worked, he figured.
So the nameless man, only a photograph to go by, became the sole reason for his living. He pieced together small facts, got a name or an alias - Eric - and an age, 28 years old (like he couldn't have told that from the photograph). But nobody knew where he lived, what he did for a living. Somebody remembered the car he drives, white like the suit, but no plate number.
A week went by. Then another.
He threw away the photograph.
He drove around in an endless search, the picture and the name printed in the back of his skull, and maybe he was losing it, but then he stopped at the lights and a man - that man - walked past him in a white suit.
**
Pain has never felt as satisfying as when Dongwan's fist collided with Eric's chin.
**
On the third bottle of soju, Dongwan loses his ability to self-censor.
“I don't care how drunk you are,” Eric mutters beneath his breath, “you don't talk about offing people in public.”
“Shit,” Dongwan slurs, “I'll use the word .. the word .. hug. Hug instead. So I hugged the guy and that was the second, no, wait, third time I ever hugged a man.”
“Touching,” Eric says. “Where do you live?”
Dongwan's eyes widen. “Yah! I'm not.. really .. not a fag.”
“I mean for after you pass out,” Eric says but Dongwan's head has already hit the table.
**
Dongwan weights a lot.
“How did you,” Dongwan mutters against Eric's ear, a bit too loudly, “get inside my house..”
“This is my place,” Eric answers.
“It's exactly like mine,” Dongwan replies.
“You're drunk.”
“You're dead. Where's my gun?”
Eric drops Dongwan on the bed and checks Dongwan's belt for a gun, but there isn't one.
“Liar,” Eric tells him.
Dongwan's asleep.
**
It was an obsession of sorts, but at least he was getting paid for it.
He spent more time on the case than he did with his girlfriend.
A week later, he doesn't have a girlfriend.
**
“Why did you change my sheets?” Dongwan asks the next morning, padding to the kitchen wearing one of Eric's t-shirts.
Eric decides not to say anything. He's not sure where they'll be going from here. He supposes they both have a bone to pick with the man behind the big desk, but which bone and how to pick it, it's all a bit hazy and he still has a hangover.
“I didn't change your sheets,” Eric says, poring himself more coffee. “This is my place.”
“Don't yell,” Dongwan says, sitting down, holding his head. “Or I'll kill you.”
“Yeah, because you were so great with that last night.”
Dongwan quiets down and Eric reads the paper, only not really, his ears more tuned to listening Dongwan's feet shift under the table, his fingers tapping anxiously against the coffee mug.
“What are we going to do with the company?” Dongwan asks.
“Find out who they're toying with next.”
“How?”
“I don't know. Bring down the system.”
“How?”
Eric shrugs stiffly. “I haven't gotten that far yet.”
Dongwan laughs. “Lucky for you, I have a friend.”
“Congratulations,” Eric says.
“He could help us with this stuff. Computers, you know.” It's Dongwan's turn to shrug.
“You're right, that sounds much more specific,” Eric says sarcastically.
“Whatever,” Dongwan replies. “Let's go.”
**
The shower head is the same. The tiles are the same.
The door is on the wrong side of the bathroom, Dongwan realizes. It's his apartment, only in reverse. Mirror image. Black sheets where his are white. White disposable razors where his are black.
It's creepy to say the least. For a moment he thinks about Eric tailing him, copying his life in reverse like a deluded psycho, and then he thinks about Eric who seems nonchalant about everything most of the time, and rules out this option.
Then Dongwan thinks about fate, and then decides he's the deluded psycho if anybody.
**
Dongwan just stares at the cupboard.
“All your suits are in white,” he says. “And all your shirts are in black.”
“What's the big deal?” Eric asks with a shrug, and reaches into the cupboard for a new shirt. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and catches Dongwan stealing a glance. Only slightly self-conscious, he turns around awkwardly and puts on the shirt.
“All my suits are in black,” Dongwan says. “And all my shirts are in white.”
“Just pick an outfit,” Eric says irritably. “It's not my fault you threw up all over your own last night.”
“We'll look ridiculous, wearing the same thing,” Dongwan argues put picks a suit regardless.
**
Mong, hunched over his laptop, wearing glasses so thick his eyes look larger, doesn't even look at them when he speaks.
“This is the email you got?” he asks.
“Yep,” Dongwan replies.
“Okay. Got the IP, just a sec.”
“How do you two know each other, anyway?” Eric asks, mostly for conversation but a little bit for curiosity's sake, as well.
“We have a band,” Dongwan replies, and doesn't seem to be joking. Mong says nothing.
“What, DongMong?” Eric asks, and is joking, but Dongwan stares at him, looking genuinely stunned.
“Have you heard of us?” Before Eric can reply, Dongwan turns to Mong. “You didn't upload that song, did you?”
Mong merely shakes his head.
“Shame,” Dongwan says. “It's a really good song.”
**
They get records, data. Records of themselves, and he finds out Eric's actually 29, not 28. Not that it matters a whole lot.
Mong messes with their server a little, so the man will wake up to find all his emails gone, and Dongwan likes the idea.
Eric snorts in disapproval but grins a little himself later on.
The latest data is two files, two men in suits, and Dongwan's heart sinks a couple of feet when he sees the man in the other file. He glances at Eric, who's staring at both pictures blankly.
This could get messy.
**
After Mong's they eat lunch and Dongwan wants in his own clothes, so they go to his place. Eric notices the black letter box, exactly like his, and he notices the Welcome mat, the sofa, the coffee mugs in the kitchen sink. It's fucking scary. Your place or mine, he thinks glumly, except your place is my place, or at least something really damn close to it.
Maybe the man behind the desk likes to play games like this. But shit, how would he ever now? Eric doesn't let anybody into his apartment. Well, anybody except Dongwan, just last night.
He listens to the sound of Dongwan's shower running and grabs a drink from the fridge, his hands blindly finding a beer bottle exactly where he himself stacks them.
He reads the paper, and at least the ink's black-on-white and not white-on-black or some fucked up shit like that, and the sound of the shower ceases. His eyes still focus on the words on the page but from the corner of his eye he can see Dongwan doesn't do bath robes.
Neither does Eric. Another coincidence.
“There might be sort of a problem with the next step,” Dongwan says as he tightens the towel around his waist. “The new files, the guy in the black suit, I sort of. Well, you know how I said I used to, uh, hug people for a living?”
Eric rolls his eyes. “You can say 'kill' now. He hired you to off someone?”
“No,” Dongwan replies.
“He was the target? You failed?”
“We sort of ..got close,” Dongwan explains awkwardly.
“Some hitman you were,” Eric says, amused, and then the full meaning hits him.
Out of all the half-criminal mobster-wannabes Seoul contains, he has to get stuck with the gay one. Dongwan's reddening in the cheeks and he excuses himself to go dress, and Eric stares at his bare back as he goes.
This just got a whole lot messier. He starts tearing at the label of his beer bottle and decides he could use something stronger.
**
“I don't see why you have to tag along,” Eric says after the second drink, looking at Dongwan, who's scanning the bar they're in. “Can't we just call each other when something happens?”
“Should've worn something more casual,” Dongwan says, picking at the sleeve of his jacket, “we stick out like a sore thumb in these fucking suits.”
“Isn't that a good thing?” Eric asks, ordering another drink with a wave of his hand. “The ladies will notice.”
Dongwan changes the topic. “What if the man decides to hunt us down and one of us dies before they get to inform the other one? That's why I need to tag along.”
“Why the fuck would he kill us?”
“Because we didn't perform as he would've liked, he didn't get his personal cage match to see who ends up offing who.”
“If he wanted to find us, he'd have found us already,” Eric says.
“Holy shit,” Dongwan says. “One of the decoys is here.”
**
Eric's a bit too rough on the guy as the drag the decoy through the back door and into the alley outside the club. It's not like they'll have to shake him for answers, at least Dongwan hopes they don't. To be honest, he's not very good at crime as it is, and getting caught beating somebody up would only add up to the feeling of failure that he definitely went wrong with his choice of career. He's good at looking tough, he knows, but being tough - not so much.
But maybe Eric's not all that great at crime, either, as the roughed up decoy guy looks less than roughed up.
“Geez, relax,” he says casually and lights up the cigarette that's been in his mouth the whole time. “What is it that you guys want?”
“The new guys, are you going decoy on them, too?” Eric asks. “Does your boss continue his sick little game?”
The guy shrugs. “I'm just an actor, and I have a job in China starting tomorrow. I don't know about any new guys.”
“China?” Dongwan asks, squinting as the guy blows smokes at his face.
“Dramas,” the guy says with a smile. “Watch out for them on cable. The name's Park Choong-jae, by the way. Most people call me Junjin.”
“Not interested,” Eric says coldly. “What about your partner?”
“My girlfriend's in China, too,” the guy begins but then realization dawns on him. “Oh, you mean Andy? Not sure about him.”
He whips out his cell phone and dials a number. Dongwan glances nervously at Eric. It's possible that this Junjin would just call the cops on them, or worse, the man behind the desk. Eric doesn't look worried, however.
“Andy-sshi!” Junjin says happily. “There are some guys here who want to meet you. They're sort of like casting people. Sure, yeah, the address is..”
**
Soon they're all sitting at the same table, dance music blasting around the club as they stare at each other.
“The names are Lee Minwoo and Shin Hyesung,” Eric says and looks at Andy. “Are you decoying for one of them again?”
Andy smiles. “If I was, would I tell you?” He then laughs. “Well, I'm not. I was going to but I got another job to go to, so I cancelled.”
“Then you can tell us where they'll be tricked,” Eric says.
“For the right sum, I could,” Andy replies.
“Yah!” Dongwan exclaims in irritation. “Don't play around with us! Just tell us where they're going to be.”
Andy grins. “You guys are too easy. And rude. Were they this rude with you, Jinnie?”
Junjin shrugs. “They're trying to appear threatening but haven't watched enough mobster movies.”
“We are threatening,” Dongwan argues and Eric wants to die a little. The situation is undeniably comedic; if they took out a gun it would shoot water.
Andy looks like he's about to laugh. “Okay, okay, I'll give you the place. Wouldn't want to die by your hand or anything.”
He says it sarcastically but Dongwan looks happy. Eric can actually feel a blush working its way up to his cheeks. Andy is writing down the place and Junjin is grinning, and Eric knows they seem like two of those stupid mobsters you always see in dramas, the ones that try so hard to appear dangerous they end up looking hopelessly goofy.
Andy gives them the locations, and Dongwan actually - the goddamn idiot - thanks him, and just then Eric really hates Dongwan.
**
“Your place or mine?” Dongwan asks with a grin outside the club.
“You go to your place, I go to mine,” Eric replies irritably. “I'm taking my car, you take whatever.”
“You can't drive,” Dongwan says, “you're drunk.”
“Am not,” Eric says as non-drunkenly as he possibly can, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the fact he's forced to throw up before he can say anything more.
So okay, maybe he is a little drunk.
He feels woozy as he gets out of the car, and grabs Dongwan's shoulder for support. It's not enough so he ends up drawing closer, and Dongwan's hand holds onto his hip.
They make it into the apartment, and as Eric's back hits his own bed, his hands search for Dongwan so he can push him away.
“I'm not a fag, you know,” Eric tells the dim room as he realizes Dongwan's not on the bed with him - thank Christ, too - and then he hears the other laughing by the door.
“Goodnight,” Dongwan says and closes the door.
**
He makes his way into the shower, where the door knob is on the wrong side, and so is the sink, but after around ten minutes of standing in the lukewarm shower, he's woken up. It's a nice feeling, apart from the fact his head really fucking hurts, and he blindly reaches for the shampoo and hits something else.
“Fuck's sake, man, use the shower curtain, that's what it's there for,” Dongwan says irritably and slides the curtain shut.
Eric groans and opens his eyes to locate the shampoo bottle.
He rinses until his head stops throbbing. It's a long while.
**
“Just so you know,” Dongwan says, arranging little cups on the table in the kitchen as Eric enters, “you're paying my water bill for that shower.”
“Whatever,” Eric says. “We got the address, right?”
“And the time,” Dongwan replies. “But it's not until later. Want to catch a movie meanwhile?”
“Sure thing, honey,” Eric says sardonically.
Dongwan doesn't seem to be listening too carefully. “Okay, I'll just call them to see what's on..”
Eric lets out a sigh but doesn't protest. Sure, a movie. When the job is done, this'll all be over. They'll just go their own separate ways and that'll be that.
A movie. No big deal.
**
He lets Eric pick the movie, which is not a good move since he saw Eric's movie collection and it was total shit - American comedies so bad even drunk Americans wouldn't find them funny. So Eric picks a movie that's crappy enough for Dongwan to stop reading subtitles 10 minutes into the movie, and after half an hour his eyes can't focus on the movie itself, either.
When he wakes up, there's a small wet spot on the shoulder of Eric's jacket.
“Why the hell didn't you wake me up?” Dongwan mutters, wiping his mouth. It's embarrassing, but Eric doesn't seem fussed, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Why the hell did you fall asleep?” Eric asks with a small shrug. “It's a good movie.”
“No, it isn't,” Dongwan says beneath his breath and goes through his pockets for his cell phone. “Sorry I drooled on you.”
“Not the first time,” Eric says.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
There's a silence and Dongwan struggles to follow the vapid excuse for a plot the movie has, and quickly gives up. He glances at his cell phone once more.
“Hey, it's nearly time, we have to go,” he says, nudging Eric.
“But the movie--” Eric argues but Dongwan gives him a look. “Oh, fine.”
**
The car parked at the location, they see a man carrying a newspaper exit a building.
“Minwoo,” Eric says, flipping the file shut. “You dated him?”
“I never said I dated him,” Dongwan replies defensively. “I said we had a history.”
“History means you dated him,” Eric says. “And you said you two got close. That's even more definite.”
“History could mean I dated his sister or something,” Dongwan says. “Oh, that's Hyesung.”
“So did you?” Eric asks, not all too sure why he's so curious about the matter but unable to let go regardless.
“Did I what?” Dongwan asks distractedly, following Hyesung with his eyes.
“Date his sister?”
“No,” Dongwan replies and suddenly gets out of the car and in Hyesung's direction.
“I'll take Minwoo, sure, no problem, thanks for asking,” Eric says beneath his breath and gets out of the car himself.
**
So convincing isn't something he's particularly good at. Or even good at it in the least, so it makes sense if Shin Hyesung looks less than convinced.
“So what you're saying,” the other man says lazily, crossing his legs and leaning closer, “is this guy I'm supposed to ice, is hired to ice me by the same guy who's paying me?”
“Essentially yes, that's about it,” Dongwan replies nodding, and knows he doesn't sound very cool but then again, he probably never did in the first place.
“But I'll still get paid, right?” Hyesung asks. “If I get him.”
“Yeah, but it's a game,” Dongwan begins but trails off as Hyesung waves his hand dismissively.
“But it's a job,” he argues. “So you guys, you and this other person, you guys just walked hand-in-hand into the sunset and never got paid?”
“No sunset,” Dongwan says hastily. “No hand-in-hand.”
“Whatever,” Hyesung replies. “So unprofessional.”
Dongwan sighs. “Sure, okay, go ahead, die, whatever.”
He gets up and starts to walk away, rolling his shoulders. Okay, so maybe he isn't cut out for the job and people like Shin Hyesung are. Whatever. Really. Whatever.
“Tell Eric I said hi,” Hyesung calls out after him.
Dongwan is about to turn around but then decides he doesn't want to know.
**
Minwoo is a nice guy. Really, he's great. They get along so well if it wasn't for the circumstances, Eric would probably take his number, meet up later to watch football or something. But now, he feels an odd loyalty to Dongwan that makes him drag himself out of the bar he meets Minwoo at. He doesn't know if Minwoo will heed to his advice. On some level, he doesn't even care.
Dongwan looks upset when they finally meet back at Eric's car.
“Hyesung says hi,” Dongwan says in a casual, amused manner, but there's an edge to his voice that Eric picks up on immediately.
“Oh,” Eric replies. “Okay.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dongwan breathes out. “Why didn't you tell me you two knew each other?”
“I wasn't sure,” Eric says, and it's the truth. “He changed his name and everything. It was a really long time ago. Back in California.”
“California?”
“Born and ..well, not raised. Family moved to Seoul when I was 15.” He shrugs.
“That's quite a coincidence,” Dongwan says, sounding a lot less upset now. “You and him. Me and Minwoo.”
“Some destiny,” Eric agrees.
“Still, you could've told me,” Dongwan says, leaning against the car. “I told you about Minwoo.”
“It's not the same thing,” Eric says.
“Yours is less embarrassing,” Dongwan replies, but then, Eric thinks, he doesn't know the full story.
The story of him and Pil-kyo. Eh. Maybe later.
“What now?” Dongwan asks him.
Eric snorts. “What do you mean, 'what now'? We're not doing anything after now.”
“Oh,” Dongwan says, sounding disappointed. “We're not going to even keep in touch?”
“Why should we,” Eric asks, but more from himself than anything.
“I don't know, no reason I guess,” Dongwan says with a shrug. “Our apartments look the same. I sort of thought it was too odd to be coincidental.”
“So we should get together because our interior decoration matches?” Eric asks, just to make sure it sounds ridiculous in his head, and not as Dongwan put it.
“Nevermind, eh,” Dongwan says with a smile and punches Eric's shoulder just then. “Good riddance.”
He heads off to his black car and Eric is already cursing because of what he's about to do. It's the perfect chance to let go but it's exactly on the moment when he realizes he doesn't want to.
“Wait,” he says and Dongwan turns around. “Let's at least get some drinks or something.”
**
It's only after one drink that Eric leans over and kisses him. It's excuse enough, Dongwan guesses, the alcohol but he still draws away.
“Hey,” he says, “I'm not--”
But then Eric kisses him again, with hands pulling at Dongwan and his clothing for closer proximity, and Dongwan stops arguing.
Them and their freaky matching-only-not-really apartments and suits and letter boxes. Maybe it was kind of meant to be. Maybe--
Just then Eric pulls away. “Hey,” he says, “stop thinking already.”
Dongwan snorts, and leans in again.
-fin-
AN: I know it's flawed. Something about Shinhwa makes my writing lack the flow I seem to have nearly perfected with most stuff I write about Suju. It's odd. But whatever. And yes, I was fairly liberal with the Throw My Fist 'canon'. Regardless, it's a great music video.
way for victory
shinhwa au
throw my fist mv universe (watch it!)
pg-13
ricwan, tiiiny woodong & ricsyung
lots of cursing & badassery. you have been warned. and obviously none of it is real or belonging to me.
So there he is, lip bleeding and bruises and burns here and there all over his face because the fucker likes to wear rings. Shouldn't there be rules, Eric thinks as he opens his hand and closes it back to a fist, but then he could've pulled out a knife himself, stopped this amateur fisticuffs - like two school boys on the playground. He could've done that, yeah, but perhaps he'd wanted a bit of hands on work, all that sneaking around, tailing and info gathering had gotten boring.
His hair is a mess. His trousers are dirty and and soaked at the legs - there is so much water on the concrete.
He's not winning, but neither is Dongwan, spitting blood and cursing beneath his breath, still standing but only barely.
Eric drops onto the concrete, his legs failing him, but he's not losing. He breathes roughly and stares at Dongwan, feeling the cut lip with his tongue. It doesn't hurt as bad as some of the other wounds.
Dongwan wipes sweat with his sleeve.
“Fuck this shit,” Eric says. “Fuck it.”
“What?” Dongwan asks irritably and Eric realizes he's never heard his voice before. It sounds different than he imagined, but not in a bad way.
“The old man behind the desk, he's just fucking playing with us, isn't he,” Eric begins, as Dongwan continues to stare at him in confusion. “He gives us a task - bring this guy to me, dead or alive. Only you're my task, and I'm yours, so if he wants either of us dead or alive, why doesn't he just give us a call to come over?”
Dongwan snorts in disbelief, but Eric continues. “So it's a test, but shit, dude, I already shot a man as an exam. If I'd want to sit another, I'd go back to school.”
“And the decoys,” Dongwan begins but trails off soon and Eric watches him piece together the whole scheme of events.
“A game,” he says.
“Shit,” Dongwan replies. “I mean .. fuck.”
“Royally fucked over,” Eric agrees.
Then Dongwan laughs, and takes a step or two closer, and for a while Eric thinks he's getting a kick or a punch. Instead, Dongwan offers a hand and a smile.
“Soju?” Dongwan asks.
Like they hadn't just been happily killing each other minutes ago.
“Sure,” Eric says.
**
Dongwan got the file from the man behind the big desk.
No name. No job. No location. Just a picture of a man in a white suit, dark hair slicked back.
Dongwan set to work, not asking questions, never finding out why finding the man - in whatever condition - was so crucial. Just the way things worked, he figured.
So the nameless man, only a photograph to go by, became the sole reason for his living. He pieced together small facts, got a name or an alias - Eric - and an age, 28 years old (like he couldn't have told that from the photograph). But nobody knew where he lived, what he did for a living. Somebody remembered the car he drives, white like the suit, but no plate number.
A week went by. Then another.
He threw away the photograph.
He drove around in an endless search, the picture and the name printed in the back of his skull, and maybe he was losing it, but then he stopped at the lights and a man - that man - walked past him in a white suit.
**
Pain has never felt as satisfying as when Dongwan's fist collided with Eric's chin.
**
On the third bottle of soju, Dongwan loses his ability to self-censor.
“I don't care how drunk you are,” Eric mutters beneath his breath, “you don't talk about offing people in public.”
“Shit,” Dongwan slurs, “I'll use the word .. the word .. hug. Hug instead. So I hugged the guy and that was the second, no, wait, third time I ever hugged a man.”
“Touching,” Eric says. “Where do you live?”
Dongwan's eyes widen. “Yah! I'm not.. really .. not a fag.”
“I mean for after you pass out,” Eric says but Dongwan's head has already hit the table.
**
Dongwan weights a lot.
“How did you,” Dongwan mutters against Eric's ear, a bit too loudly, “get inside my house..”
“This is my place,” Eric answers.
“It's exactly like mine,” Dongwan replies.
“You're drunk.”
“You're dead. Where's my gun?”
Eric drops Dongwan on the bed and checks Dongwan's belt for a gun, but there isn't one.
“Liar,” Eric tells him.
Dongwan's asleep.
**
It was an obsession of sorts, but at least he was getting paid for it.
He spent more time on the case than he did with his girlfriend.
A week later, he doesn't have a girlfriend.
**
“Why did you change my sheets?” Dongwan asks the next morning, padding to the kitchen wearing one of Eric's t-shirts.
Eric decides not to say anything. He's not sure where they'll be going from here. He supposes they both have a bone to pick with the man behind the big desk, but which bone and how to pick it, it's all a bit hazy and he still has a hangover.
“I didn't change your sheets,” Eric says, poring himself more coffee. “This is my place.”
“Don't yell,” Dongwan says, sitting down, holding his head. “Or I'll kill you.”
“Yeah, because you were so great with that last night.”
Dongwan quiets down and Eric reads the paper, only not really, his ears more tuned to listening Dongwan's feet shift under the table, his fingers tapping anxiously against the coffee mug.
“What are we going to do with the company?” Dongwan asks.
“Find out who they're toying with next.”
“How?”
“I don't know. Bring down the system.”
“How?”
Eric shrugs stiffly. “I haven't gotten that far yet.”
Dongwan laughs. “Lucky for you, I have a friend.”
“Congratulations,” Eric says.
“He could help us with this stuff. Computers, you know.” It's Dongwan's turn to shrug.
“You're right, that sounds much more specific,” Eric says sarcastically.
“Whatever,” Dongwan replies. “Let's go.”
**
The shower head is the same. The tiles are the same.
The door is on the wrong side of the bathroom, Dongwan realizes. It's his apartment, only in reverse. Mirror image. Black sheets where his are white. White disposable razors where his are black.
It's creepy to say the least. For a moment he thinks about Eric tailing him, copying his life in reverse like a deluded psycho, and then he thinks about Eric who seems nonchalant about everything most of the time, and rules out this option.
Then Dongwan thinks about fate, and then decides he's the deluded psycho if anybody.
**
Dongwan just stares at the cupboard.
“All your suits are in white,” he says. “And all your shirts are in black.”
“What's the big deal?” Eric asks with a shrug, and reaches into the cupboard for a new shirt. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and catches Dongwan stealing a glance. Only slightly self-conscious, he turns around awkwardly and puts on the shirt.
“All my suits are in black,” Dongwan says. “And all my shirts are in white.”
“Just pick an outfit,” Eric says irritably. “It's not my fault you threw up all over your own last night.”
“We'll look ridiculous, wearing the same thing,” Dongwan argues put picks a suit regardless.
**
Mong, hunched over his laptop, wearing glasses so thick his eyes look larger, doesn't even look at them when he speaks.
“This is the email you got?” he asks.
“Yep,” Dongwan replies.
“Okay. Got the IP, just a sec.”
“How do you two know each other, anyway?” Eric asks, mostly for conversation but a little bit for curiosity's sake, as well.
“We have a band,” Dongwan replies, and doesn't seem to be joking. Mong says nothing.
“What, DongMong?” Eric asks, and is joking, but Dongwan stares at him, looking genuinely stunned.
“Have you heard of us?” Before Eric can reply, Dongwan turns to Mong. “You didn't upload that song, did you?”
Mong merely shakes his head.
“Shame,” Dongwan says. “It's a really good song.”
**
They get records, data. Records of themselves, and he finds out Eric's actually 29, not 28. Not that it matters a whole lot.
Mong messes with their server a little, so the man will wake up to find all his emails gone, and Dongwan likes the idea.
Eric snorts in disapproval but grins a little himself later on.
The latest data is two files, two men in suits, and Dongwan's heart sinks a couple of feet when he sees the man in the other file. He glances at Eric, who's staring at both pictures blankly.
This could get messy.
**
After Mong's they eat lunch and Dongwan wants in his own clothes, so they go to his place. Eric notices the black letter box, exactly like his, and he notices the Welcome mat, the sofa, the coffee mugs in the kitchen sink. It's fucking scary. Your place or mine, he thinks glumly, except your place is my place, or at least something really damn close to it.
Maybe the man behind the desk likes to play games like this. But shit, how would he ever now? Eric doesn't let anybody into his apartment. Well, anybody except Dongwan, just last night.
He listens to the sound of Dongwan's shower running and grabs a drink from the fridge, his hands blindly finding a beer bottle exactly where he himself stacks them.
He reads the paper, and at least the ink's black-on-white and not white-on-black or some fucked up shit like that, and the sound of the shower ceases. His eyes still focus on the words on the page but from the corner of his eye he can see Dongwan doesn't do bath robes.
Neither does Eric. Another coincidence.
“There might be sort of a problem with the next step,” Dongwan says as he tightens the towel around his waist. “The new files, the guy in the black suit, I sort of. Well, you know how I said I used to, uh, hug people for a living?”
Eric rolls his eyes. “You can say 'kill' now. He hired you to off someone?”
“No,” Dongwan replies.
“He was the target? You failed?”
“We sort of ..got close,” Dongwan explains awkwardly.
“Some hitman you were,” Eric says, amused, and then the full meaning hits him.
Out of all the half-criminal mobster-wannabes Seoul contains, he has to get stuck with the gay one. Dongwan's reddening in the cheeks and he excuses himself to go dress, and Eric stares at his bare back as he goes.
This just got a whole lot messier. He starts tearing at the label of his beer bottle and decides he could use something stronger.
**
“I don't see why you have to tag along,” Eric says after the second drink, looking at Dongwan, who's scanning the bar they're in. “Can't we just call each other when something happens?”
“Should've worn something more casual,” Dongwan says, picking at the sleeve of his jacket, “we stick out like a sore thumb in these fucking suits.”
“Isn't that a good thing?” Eric asks, ordering another drink with a wave of his hand. “The ladies will notice.”
Dongwan changes the topic. “What if the man decides to hunt us down and one of us dies before they get to inform the other one? That's why I need to tag along.”
“Why the fuck would he kill us?”
“Because we didn't perform as he would've liked, he didn't get his personal cage match to see who ends up offing who.”
“If he wanted to find us, he'd have found us already,” Eric says.
“Holy shit,” Dongwan says. “One of the decoys is here.”
**
Eric's a bit too rough on the guy as the drag the decoy through the back door and into the alley outside the club. It's not like they'll have to shake him for answers, at least Dongwan hopes they don't. To be honest, he's not very good at crime as it is, and getting caught beating somebody up would only add up to the feeling of failure that he definitely went wrong with his choice of career. He's good at looking tough, he knows, but being tough - not so much.
But maybe Eric's not all that great at crime, either, as the roughed up decoy guy looks less than roughed up.
“Geez, relax,” he says casually and lights up the cigarette that's been in his mouth the whole time. “What is it that you guys want?”
“The new guys, are you going decoy on them, too?” Eric asks. “Does your boss continue his sick little game?”
The guy shrugs. “I'm just an actor, and I have a job in China starting tomorrow. I don't know about any new guys.”
“China?” Dongwan asks, squinting as the guy blows smokes at his face.
“Dramas,” the guy says with a smile. “Watch out for them on cable. The name's Park Choong-jae, by the way. Most people call me Junjin.”
“Not interested,” Eric says coldly. “What about your partner?”
“My girlfriend's in China, too,” the guy begins but then realization dawns on him. “Oh, you mean Andy? Not sure about him.”
He whips out his cell phone and dials a number. Dongwan glances nervously at Eric. It's possible that this Junjin would just call the cops on them, or worse, the man behind the desk. Eric doesn't look worried, however.
“Andy-sshi!” Junjin says happily. “There are some guys here who want to meet you. They're sort of like casting people. Sure, yeah, the address is..”
**
Soon they're all sitting at the same table, dance music blasting around the club as they stare at each other.
“The names are Lee Minwoo and Shin Hyesung,” Eric says and looks at Andy. “Are you decoying for one of them again?”
Andy smiles. “If I was, would I tell you?” He then laughs. “Well, I'm not. I was going to but I got another job to go to, so I cancelled.”
“Then you can tell us where they'll be tricked,” Eric says.
“For the right sum, I could,” Andy replies.
“Yah!” Dongwan exclaims in irritation. “Don't play around with us! Just tell us where they're going to be.”
Andy grins. “You guys are too easy. And rude. Were they this rude with you, Jinnie?”
Junjin shrugs. “They're trying to appear threatening but haven't watched enough mobster movies.”
“We are threatening,” Dongwan argues and Eric wants to die a little. The situation is undeniably comedic; if they took out a gun it would shoot water.
Andy looks like he's about to laugh. “Okay, okay, I'll give you the place. Wouldn't want to die by your hand or anything.”
He says it sarcastically but Dongwan looks happy. Eric can actually feel a blush working its way up to his cheeks. Andy is writing down the place and Junjin is grinning, and Eric knows they seem like two of those stupid mobsters you always see in dramas, the ones that try so hard to appear dangerous they end up looking hopelessly goofy.
Andy gives them the locations, and Dongwan actually - the goddamn idiot - thanks him, and just then Eric really hates Dongwan.
**
“Your place or mine?” Dongwan asks with a grin outside the club.
“You go to your place, I go to mine,” Eric replies irritably. “I'm taking my car, you take whatever.”
“You can't drive,” Dongwan says, “you're drunk.”
“Am not,” Eric says as non-drunkenly as he possibly can, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the fact he's forced to throw up before he can say anything more.
So okay, maybe he is a little drunk.
He feels woozy as he gets out of the car, and grabs Dongwan's shoulder for support. It's not enough so he ends up drawing closer, and Dongwan's hand holds onto his hip.
They make it into the apartment, and as Eric's back hits his own bed, his hands search for Dongwan so he can push him away.
“I'm not a fag, you know,” Eric tells the dim room as he realizes Dongwan's not on the bed with him - thank Christ, too - and then he hears the other laughing by the door.
“Goodnight,” Dongwan says and closes the door.
**
He makes his way into the shower, where the door knob is on the wrong side, and so is the sink, but after around ten minutes of standing in the lukewarm shower, he's woken up. It's a nice feeling, apart from the fact his head really fucking hurts, and he blindly reaches for the shampoo and hits something else.
“Fuck's sake, man, use the shower curtain, that's what it's there for,” Dongwan says irritably and slides the curtain shut.
Eric groans and opens his eyes to locate the shampoo bottle.
He rinses until his head stops throbbing. It's a long while.
**
“Just so you know,” Dongwan says, arranging little cups on the table in the kitchen as Eric enters, “you're paying my water bill for that shower.”
“Whatever,” Eric says. “We got the address, right?”
“And the time,” Dongwan replies. “But it's not until later. Want to catch a movie meanwhile?”
“Sure thing, honey,” Eric says sardonically.
Dongwan doesn't seem to be listening too carefully. “Okay, I'll just call them to see what's on..”
Eric lets out a sigh but doesn't protest. Sure, a movie. When the job is done, this'll all be over. They'll just go their own separate ways and that'll be that.
A movie. No big deal.
**
He lets Eric pick the movie, which is not a good move since he saw Eric's movie collection and it was total shit - American comedies so bad even drunk Americans wouldn't find them funny. So Eric picks a movie that's crappy enough for Dongwan to stop reading subtitles 10 minutes into the movie, and after half an hour his eyes can't focus on the movie itself, either.
When he wakes up, there's a small wet spot on the shoulder of Eric's jacket.
“Why the hell didn't you wake me up?” Dongwan mutters, wiping his mouth. It's embarrassing, but Eric doesn't seem fussed, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Why the hell did you fall asleep?” Eric asks with a small shrug. “It's a good movie.”
“No, it isn't,” Dongwan says beneath his breath and goes through his pockets for his cell phone. “Sorry I drooled on you.”
“Not the first time,” Eric says.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
There's a silence and Dongwan struggles to follow the vapid excuse for a plot the movie has, and quickly gives up. He glances at his cell phone once more.
“Hey, it's nearly time, we have to go,” he says, nudging Eric.
“But the movie--” Eric argues but Dongwan gives him a look. “Oh, fine.”
**
The car parked at the location, they see a man carrying a newspaper exit a building.
“Minwoo,” Eric says, flipping the file shut. “You dated him?”
“I never said I dated him,” Dongwan replies defensively. “I said we had a history.”
“History means you dated him,” Eric says. “And you said you two got close. That's even more definite.”
“History could mean I dated his sister or something,” Dongwan says. “Oh, that's Hyesung.”
“So did you?” Eric asks, not all too sure why he's so curious about the matter but unable to let go regardless.
“Did I what?” Dongwan asks distractedly, following Hyesung with his eyes.
“Date his sister?”
“No,” Dongwan replies and suddenly gets out of the car and in Hyesung's direction.
“I'll take Minwoo, sure, no problem, thanks for asking,” Eric says beneath his breath and gets out of the car himself.
**
So convincing isn't something he's particularly good at. Or even good at it in the least, so it makes sense if Shin Hyesung looks less than convinced.
“So what you're saying,” the other man says lazily, crossing his legs and leaning closer, “is this guy I'm supposed to ice, is hired to ice me by the same guy who's paying me?”
“Essentially yes, that's about it,” Dongwan replies nodding, and knows he doesn't sound very cool but then again, he probably never did in the first place.
“But I'll still get paid, right?” Hyesung asks. “If I get him.”
“Yeah, but it's a game,” Dongwan begins but trails off as Hyesung waves his hand dismissively.
“But it's a job,” he argues. “So you guys, you and this other person, you guys just walked hand-in-hand into the sunset and never got paid?”
“No sunset,” Dongwan says hastily. “No hand-in-hand.”
“Whatever,” Hyesung replies. “So unprofessional.”
Dongwan sighs. “Sure, okay, go ahead, die, whatever.”
He gets up and starts to walk away, rolling his shoulders. Okay, so maybe he isn't cut out for the job and people like Shin Hyesung are. Whatever. Really. Whatever.
“Tell Eric I said hi,” Hyesung calls out after him.
Dongwan is about to turn around but then decides he doesn't want to know.
**
Minwoo is a nice guy. Really, he's great. They get along so well if it wasn't for the circumstances, Eric would probably take his number, meet up later to watch football or something. But now, he feels an odd loyalty to Dongwan that makes him drag himself out of the bar he meets Minwoo at. He doesn't know if Minwoo will heed to his advice. On some level, he doesn't even care.
Dongwan looks upset when they finally meet back at Eric's car.
“Hyesung says hi,” Dongwan says in a casual, amused manner, but there's an edge to his voice that Eric picks up on immediately.
“Oh,” Eric replies. “Okay.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dongwan breathes out. “Why didn't you tell me you two knew each other?”
“I wasn't sure,” Eric says, and it's the truth. “He changed his name and everything. It was a really long time ago. Back in California.”
“California?”
“Born and ..well, not raised. Family moved to Seoul when I was 15.” He shrugs.
“That's quite a coincidence,” Dongwan says, sounding a lot less upset now. “You and him. Me and Minwoo.”
“Some destiny,” Eric agrees.
“Still, you could've told me,” Dongwan says, leaning against the car. “I told you about Minwoo.”
“It's not the same thing,” Eric says.
“Yours is less embarrassing,” Dongwan replies, but then, Eric thinks, he doesn't know the full story.
The story of him and Pil-kyo. Eh. Maybe later.
“What now?” Dongwan asks him.
Eric snorts. “What do you mean, 'what now'? We're not doing anything after now.”
“Oh,” Dongwan says, sounding disappointed. “We're not going to even keep in touch?”
“Why should we,” Eric asks, but more from himself than anything.
“I don't know, no reason I guess,” Dongwan says with a shrug. “Our apartments look the same. I sort of thought it was too odd to be coincidental.”
“So we should get together because our interior decoration matches?” Eric asks, just to make sure it sounds ridiculous in his head, and not as Dongwan put it.
“Nevermind, eh,” Dongwan says with a smile and punches Eric's shoulder just then. “Good riddance.”
He heads off to his black car and Eric is already cursing because of what he's about to do. It's the perfect chance to let go but it's exactly on the moment when he realizes he doesn't want to.
“Wait,” he says and Dongwan turns around. “Let's at least get some drinks or something.”
**
It's only after one drink that Eric leans over and kisses him. It's excuse enough, Dongwan guesses, the alcohol but he still draws away.
“Hey,” he says, “I'm not--”
But then Eric kisses him again, with hands pulling at Dongwan and his clothing for closer proximity, and Dongwan stops arguing.
Them and their freaky matching-only-not-really apartments and suits and letter boxes. Maybe it was kind of meant to be. Maybe--
Just then Eric pulls away. “Hey,” he says, “stop thinking already.”
Dongwan snorts, and leans in again.
-fin-
AN: I know it's flawed. Something about Shinhwa makes my writing lack the flow I seem to have nearly perfected with most stuff I write about Suju. It's odd. But whatever. And yes, I was fairly liberal with the Throw My Fist 'canon'. Regardless, it's a great music video.