causality
causality; the relation between a cause and an event.
~17,960K, kyuhae, sj-reel entry for pride and prejudice.
a/n: i honestly did not want this fic to be this long, but eh, what goes - goes, right? thanks to kpopismy_drug and leorizanzel (who's in the army right now, there's a mention in here for you!) for being my wonderful betas and reading through his monstrosity ♥
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in which kyuhyun is a modern day elizabeth bennett with more the snark and less the confidence, and donghae is a mr. darcy that switches personalities constantly from morning to night.
/
i've seen this room, and i've walked this floor
you know i used to live alone before i knew you
and i've seen your flag on the marble arch
and love is not a victory march
it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
/
"That doesn't make sense," Kyuhyun expresses, frustrated. He looks at the paper in his hands with it's clearly marked 198, two points short of a full grade. "King Hyeonjong chose to enforce a one-year period of the grieving process, not three!"
The professor, a stout man with groomed, oily hair and wide-framed glasses, stares at him calmly through the lenses. "Mister Cho, I understand that you feel very strongly about this, but the discrepancies amongst this controversy - "
"There are no discrepancies," Kyuhyun snaps. "I am Korean! It's humiliating if I don't know my own history. Which, I assure you professor, is very vast."
With a sigh, Kyuhyun is excused. And he still doesn't have his two extra points.
"Bastard," he mutters furiously under his breath. "That goddamn bastard...!" He knows I'm right. He just doesn't want to admit it because his IQ is lower than mine. With that vindictive thought, Kyuhyun shoves his bag flap shut and fixes the shoulder position, tightening the scarf around his throat.
Few tufts of snow fall on to his cap and his clothes, melting as soon as they hit and making him uncomfortable in his woollen outfit. Soon, Kyuhyun feels his nose numbing, and no doubt he's got that irritating scratch of red painted across his face and ears, like it always does when it's winter and he's too cold for his own good.
For some reason, the Shanghai line seems to have disappeared from sight.
"Goddammit," he groans, petulant. "Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit!" Furiously, he claws at his phone and presses a number with his mittened hands, holding up the speaker to his ear.
It snows a bit more, now in larger flakes, and Kyuhyun feels them settle onto his lashes and nose.
"Zhou Mi," he wipes off the snow on his face, "Can you tell the boss that I'll be there a little late today?"
A crackle sounds from the other line, with the added beat of a new pop song, before Zhou Mi's voice - infused with glitter and vodka - answers in drawling Chinese. "I thought you quit?"
"I always say I quit. Doesn't mean I do." Kyuhyun looks around once, twice, and then decides that it's easier to just take the bus. He begins to walk to the nearest stop. "Besides, Han Geng needs me as much as I need him. I bring in most of his venue."
"Cocky, aren't you?" Zhou Mi laughs, this time in botchy Korean. Someone's probably there that he doesn't want to talk to, or else Zhou Mi wouldn't have switched to Kyuhyun's native language. "Alright then. I'll tell Geng. You get your cute ass here as quick as possible."
"Don't hit on me," Kyuhyun grits his teeth and shoves his phone in his pocket. Honestly, he doesn't know why he has a friend like Zhou Mi. He's one of those irritatingly beautiful people, with smoky eyeliner and husky whispers, voice full of money - chiming bells, dangling wind chimes, the golden prince in his white marble palace...always tempting and loving on every turn.
Whereas Kyuhyun just doesn't appreciate flirting from anyone at all.
Then he remembers that he and Zhou Mi both work in the same dump, a popular bar that's known for it's gorgeous employment. For the most part. Kyuhyun doesn't consider Heechul, one of the bartenders, to be all that gorgeous; he's pretty good looking, Kyuhyun admits, but he's not particularly drawn by aesthetics. Or anything. Or anybody. Not really.
Besides, most of the workers are the dancers or the servers, and the bartenders like him stay in the back and make the drinks. Most people don't come by there anyway. Usually, they just give him the order and he shakes up the drink, never drinking the alcohol himself, and he sends it off to it's merry way.
Kyuhyun doesn't enjoy this job, not really, but he lives with it. It's not like he has much use anywhere else.
Their bar is being the temporary host of some crazy bachelor party. Kyuhyun does arrive late, but it's only for his shift - the party has yet to begun, and the place still strangely empty. He's not used to it being this empty. It's weird. Downright odd.
Without the strobe lights, everyone looks less mysterious than they used to and more silly. Suddenly, the glittery dresses and sequined bow ties are something of a disco show or a trot concert than eye-catching. Well, it is eye-catching, but in a completely different way.
Kyuhyun sighs and sets his bag down near the employee's door, knowing that there won't be a soul that goes near it tonight. Or any night. Zhou Mi steps up next to him, smile bright, his tight suit stretching across his shoulders in a flattering angle. With a hand on his shoulder, he says, "Glad you could make it, Guixian."
Kyuhyun grumbles in response. He ties an apron over his blue button down and jeans, uncaring of how he looks. The dark circles underneath his eyes are certainly visible, and his head sorta pounds, and he kinda wants to go home and sleep already.
Zhou Mi watches him in complete silence, muscles moving underneath his shirt. Finally, he pipes up with, "Han Geng gege won't like that, Guixian."
"Like I give a fuck."
Han Geng has a sweet spot for him. It's sort of a sore topic for the rest of the other employees.
Just as Kyuhyun says this, Han Geng comes over to them, dark eyes glancing over at Zhou Mi at first and then Kyuhyun, before he gives them a gentle smile and leaves without a word.
Kyuhyun sort of likes Han Geng. You don't expect a man like Han Geng to own a trashy place like this, no matter how famous and reputational, because Han Geng is calm like jasmine blooms. It's the best way Kyuhyun can explain him. He's rather patient and speaks with a silent, drawling voice, words lilting. Kyuhyun rather adores the way Han Geng speaks. It's nothing like the fast shrieks of Shanghai dialect, but rather slower and sweet, like molten honey.
Quietly, Kyuhyun smirks and Zhou Mi scowls. "It's that baby face. I swear, it gets you everything."
"Shouldn't you be with a client?" Kyuhyun frowns. He could've sworn he heard someone with Zhou Mi over the phone. A raspy voice.
The other shrugs. "Eh, we had to clear out all our clients as soon as it hit nine. The reservations, you know?" Zhou Mi plays with a whiskey glass, which Kyuhyun quickly swipes from his hand and throws into the sink behind them.
It's an unspoken rule - you don't touch the alcohol unless you can handle it. And Kyuhyun knows for sure that Zhou Mi can't handle it.
Making a clicking noise as the glass is removed from his hand, Zhou Mi runs a hand through his hair. "You know, Han Geng gege might either utilize you, or leave you hanging tonight. The guy that booked the place is apparently Korean. Which means I'm doing overtime."
"Poor you. This is why you shouldn't have learned another language."
"You're the one that taught me!"
"You could've forgotten," Kyuhyun mimics Zhou Mi's grumbling tone, hitting it dead on. Zhou Mi gives him a dark look and Kyuhyun revels in it. If he has to call someone friend, he'll call Zhou Mi that friend. One friend. In all of Shanghai. Yeah, it's pretty sad, but it's all Kyuhyun's got.
"I hear Korean," With an unannounced plop, Heechul practically jumps into a stool nearby.
Kyuhyun feels a little sorry for him - he looks really tired, still the club's resident money maker, flesh and blood waiting to rot. "I'm so tired. Kyuhyunnie, why don't you make me a drink? Nothing strong, please."
Kyuhyun wordlessly gets to it. The plea is made in Korean, so Zhou Mi looks back and forth between them restlessly, somewhat curious, but mostly petulant. He sends Kyuhyun a look that is composed of, why didn't you make me one?, to which Kyuhyun duly ignores.
Soon enough everything runs up back again, from the flashing lights to the steady pop music, somehow interchanging from rock and modern techno-punk. Or whatever. Kyuhyun wipes down tables, flicking hair out of his eyes lazily, thankful that the place is dim. Usually he works with another female bartender, a girl by the name of Luna who was too sweet for her own good, but Luna mans the other bar on the other side of the club, so he's left alone to handle this one by himself.
Zhou Mi goes back to his other throng of friends, shallowly used for the men that either work there for the same reasons, or have the same desperation as Heechul does, or the same pleasure that Zhou Mi has. There's a few other Koreans - one dancer named Jongin, commonly stage-named as Kai that brings in much of the dough, a Korean-American girl who found her way from Seoul to Shanghai in an attempt to escape her sordid life back in the streets, named Tiffany. There are also the refugees, or the ones Kyuhyun calls the non-Shanghai relatives. A server named Luhan from Beijing with a tendency to curse like a sailor and flip people over his shoulder when their hands would wander, and a performer like Kai, named Tao, all the way from Qingdao, a small shy thing that rarely speaks but moves instead.
It's only a handful of people that Kyuhyun knows about - the interesting ones only, really. He doesn't care much for the others. I mean, sure, they may have interesting backstories or whatever and their own personal reasons for joining this little dysfunctional place, but Kyuhyun doesn't particularly care. Or have the right amount of time. Really.
Guests start to come in at around nine thirty. They're in packs, which make it much more easier to revert back into the partying scene that Kyuhyun is used to. Plus, none of the awkwardness that comes from serving one man only. Luna flashes a smile from among the heads of their inhabitants, and Kyuhyun attempts to give one back - if only his mouth would smile.
Slowly his head pulses in time with the music. Kyuhyun grits his teeth and sticks it through, takes a quick shot of something that he can't read in the dark and then sets it down, waiting for the buzz to take him over.
He's a good drinker, he really is. He can hold his alcohol very well. The room spins though, and this time he wonders if his judgment is good enough hold through. The colors begin to bleed and go sparsely, and Kyuhyun wonders on the remedies of drinking on an empty stomach.
He shakes his head and the dizziness goes away. Vision clearing, Kyuhyun takes a note from the side and peers at it, before crushing it between his hands, and then taking a few bottles from behind him, shaking them for good measure.
A person sits down in the seat that Heechul had been in before, and grunts at him. "Can you get me a Scotch, dry? Make it two if you can. I don't plan on driving tonight." He says it in Korean, and Kyuhyun counts the man as lucky that Kyuhyun's from Seoul.
Kyuhyun nods in confirmation and then makes the recent order, waving over Luhan from amongst the crowd, always able to spot one of his own in the dim. After the blonde leaves with the tray held steadily in his hand, Kyuhyun focuses on the man that's stumbled onto his bar, running a hand through his dark hair and staring at some incomprehensible thing in the midst of people.
He's never liked people much, Kyuhyun. They're either always too annoying, too chatty, too stupid, too opinionated. People were a real annoyance. It isn't like Kyuhyun thought himself as someone who's smarter than others or superior in every way, but sometimes the things other people say or do - he can't stand those kind of people. They're not worth his time. Sometimes he wonders if they make him lose brain cells all together.
Unfortunately, you find them everywhere here. Luckily, either Kyuhyun's created an immunity against them, or his tolerance has grown. Most probably the second one.
He sets the glass in front of the man, who doesn't even turn. Kyuhyun isn't sure if the guy's drunk or just a real character, so he turns around and goes back to pouring and mixing drinks, this time focusing on sending out those large platters that means soon enough, everyone here will be buzzed one way or another.
He barely notices the man that had previously ordered a drink turn around in his chair, scowling. He's blonde, a sort of orange shade, so it's easier for Kyuhyun to tell him apart from the others, but just barely. (One guy runs past with blue hair and Kyuhyun wonders briefly how many drinks that one's had.)
It's only when the blonde spits out his drink that Kyuhyun takes notice. He raises an eyebrow, irritation blooming in his chest, and feels unnecessarily hostile when the man scowls up at him.
"What the hell was that?" he says, voice demanding and hoarse. "That wasn't what I ordered!"
"Dry Scotch, that's what you wanted, that's what you got," Kyuhyun snaps back, not particularly liking the other's tone. "Don't piss at me just 'cos you can't handle a drink." He mumbles the last part in Korean, meant to be unheard by other ears, but the blonde man perks up at his words.
"You're Korean?" he asks, eyebrows raised.
Kyuhyun ignores him and rolls his eyes, looking toward the other side of the bar, and goes to wipe down some tables. Right now he's starting to have the vaguest sheen of sweat, barely able to breathe in the air heavily laden with sweat and music. It threatens to suffocate him, and so when it's his break time and Han Geng himself comes over to take his shift for at least thirty minutes, Kyuhyun almost collapses in the back room.
He isn't the only one. Sprawled across one of the sofas, an arm across his forehead, is Heechul. That in itself is a surprise. Kyuhyun doesn't take Heechul as the resting type. He's always moving, always singing, always creating dark magic out of his fingertips.
As if sensing him, Heechul looks up at Kyuhyun very slightly. His eyes rake over the younger's tired form, and then he goes back to covering his face, as if doing so would shield him for the world for just a bit more, just a while longer. It comes as a quiet revelation to Kyuhyun, a moment of epiphany - Heechul is made of stars, but stars can only shine for so long until they fall.
"You okay, hyung?" he says mildly, switching to their native language. Heechul grunts in return.
That's alright - Kyuhyun didn't expect much of an answer anyway. It still sorta hurts, though. Heechul is that kind of person that Kyuhyun maybe (maybe) looks up to, or dreams of talking to properly even though he can't speak up about himself even if his life depended on it and - people are just so stupid. Including Kyuhyun.
He wonders how that would sound if he told anyone. That he looks up to a man who's about five years his senior and works at a club in the middle of Shanghai's night district. It would certainly tell others something about him, wouldn't it? And Kyuhyun thinks about these morbid thoughts, pushing in his earbuds and laying back against the second sofa. The room is blindingly white compared to the rest of the place. Probably to wake everyone up when they came in and found themselves blinded.
Slowly, as the first beats of a slow song plays, Kyuhyun closes his eyes and drifts away to grassy fields and blue skies and a land far, far away from here.
/
He wakes up to silent murmuring, but is far too comfortable to even get up. His limbs feel frozen in place, and so he refuses to get them to start when he's just so goddamn cosy. Everything seems wonderful and warm when you haven't had much sleep.
His ears are open, though, and the words that float around the room suddenly find themselves in possession of Kyuhyun's dream-like state. He can make out two voices - Heechul's typical sharply accented words, and Han Geng's quiet and soft Chinese. He must be really out of it if they decided to talk in front of him. Then again, he's never been the lightest sleeper...
"I don't want to see him again, Han Geng," Heechul protests, which isn't much of a surprise - Heechul always protests - but there's something different in his tone. He sounds tired and adamant, whereas usually he just sounds pissy and whiny when he complains like this. Something's different. "Trust me, I'm no help to you when I'm a wreck."
"I know," Han Geng murmurs, "That's why I want you to man the bar. Kyuhyun hasn't been sleeping, and I'm worried for him."
Heechul growls slightly, but at the moment that Kyuhyun's name is uttered, he quiets down. "Has he really? I can't see his face often, always bowing his head. The kid is the only decent company around here."
Kyuhyun's heart flutters like a child getting praised by his mother at the words. He shifts, unable to help himself, and imagines that the other two suddenly stop moving to make sure he doesn't wake up.
"See those dark circles? I told you he's not sleeping. He's the youngest around here, I wonder why he isn't taking care of himself..." Han Geng sighs. "But I don't want you to go out there and see - what's the name of the bastard that left you? Chengmin?"
"Sungmin," Heechul dully replied, quite the stark difference from his flamboyant personality.
"That's what I said - Chengmin." With a sigh at Han Geng's Korean pronunciation, Heechul makes these shuffling sounds like he's about to get up. There's a pop which sounds like someone cracking his back, and then a quiet murmur. "I can take over for Kyuhyun, no problem. I don't think my drinks will be better than his, though."
"It's alright. The guests are half drunk anyway."
They both leave the room, and Kyuhyun ponders. Heechul doesn't seem like that sort of type to be beaten down by something so easily, so how was this any different? What changed? Kyuhyun feels unsettled, and it's not by the care that both men seem to have for him. It was the desolation in Heechul's voice, untouchable Heechul, that broke Kyuhyun as well.
He waited for what seemed like a good fifteen minutes, and then got up himself. With a short trip to the bathroom, he washed his face and quickly ran a hand through his hair, managing to fix most of the hairs flat against the back of his head, but unable to quite tame the ones sticking up all over the place. Well, whatever. It's dark out there anyway - no one could see him right, and if they could, they'll probably be too drunk to remember.
Rolling his sleeves up, he felt very much every part of the disgruntled bartender as he walks over to the counter, bumping lightly into Heechul in the middle of pushing another drink to a well-gone girl. By this rate, they were going to end up rich and without any of their liquor stock.
"Hey," Kyuhyun said, voice slightly hoarse from the after effects of sleep. "I'm good - you should go inside or do whatever. I'll handle it from here."
If Heechul wants him to get more sleep, he doesn't say so. With a brief but intense stare toward Kyuhyun's way, he nods and then ruffles the back of his head lightly as he leaves. It's still sort of touching. In a way. Sorta.
After a while, there's a lot of people laughing and having a good time, but Kyuhyun thinks about his work that's left in his bag, still miserably waiting to be finished, and sighs. At this rate, he'll be getting gray hair before he turns forty.
A man stands up before them all, finding a small stage with spotlights his way. He's a good looking man, if you squint hard enough. Kyuhyun supposes that he has a nice smile, though, and he looks much happier than the rest of the group - much easily rested, too. Doesn't seem like the type of man to party in a club, but more like the man to spend his eternity in grassy fields.
Kyuhyun knows, right away, that this man has had no alcohol, not a drop. His clothes are impeccable and his hair is still combed, even if it's slightly messy, and his cheeks aren't flushed with intoxication. He's a clean man, which makes him even more piquing.
"Thank you all for coming today!" the man says into the microphone, sounding slightly shy but still authoritative. "As you all know, this is a celebration party. Many thanks to the man who said yes to my marriage proposal - I know how hard it is to live with me." Charismatic, Kyuhyun finishes, leaning against the wine caskets. A spatter of people laugh. "If only he'd come up here himself..."
There's a couple of wolf whistles, and then the crowd parts toward the side like a swerving snake. Another man, with dark hair and eyes but a blindingly amazing smile, stands up on stage and laughs, quickly kissing the other man on the cheek. Unlike Mr. Sober, this one is only the tiniest bit tipsy. He sways, but he doesn't seem unpleasant to be around. Kyuhyun is rather good at reading people, or so he says.
There's a bit more talking involved, but he learns that Mr. Sober's name is no other than the wealthy man who had reserved the club for the whole night, a certain Lee Hyukjae, and his boyfriend-soon-to-be-husband is Lee Sungmin. The name rings a bell, and Kyuhyun finds himself staring at Sungmin critically as he leaves the stage.
The blonde man from earlier notices this and grunts. "He's taken, you know," he comments loudly, garnering Kyuhyun's attention. "No use lusting after him."
"Trust me, I wasn't," Kyuhyun replies. He remembers the blond from earlier. The persnickety one. "I've just heard of him before, is all."
Blondie barks out a short laugh. It sounds almost bitter with his gravelly voice. "I wouldn't be surprised. Sungmin used to get around. Not like he's a bad guy, though, since he makes Hyuk all happy and what-the-fuck-ever, but still used to get around." There's a bottle next to him and he swigs a drink from it. It appears to Kyuhyun that this man is most probably wasted. If so, then he had a good facade going on there for a second - Kyuhyun almost didn't recognize the intoxication.
"That's nice," he says off-handedly. "You paid for that, right?"
Blondie looks down at the bottle. "Put it on Lee Donghae's tab."
Kyuhyun does so, with a flourish of pen on his arm. Paper gets lost too easily, and his own mind wasn't trustworthy at the moment, so he puts a tally next to Lee Donghae's name. One bottle.
Soon it becomes two. And then three. Kyuhyun begins to find the blooming vestiges of worry form within him; okay, so the guy proved he could hold his alcohol well, that he's out to kill his liver, whatever. But those were some expensive wine he was asking for. Old, expensive wine. Blondie literally just chugged down the alcohol like it was water, and it sort of makes Kyuhyun balk, because - well, as a lover of wine himself, he does not appreciate that.
Still, it isn't his place to talk. Stiffly, he crosses his arms. About half the party is gone, and it's reaching two in the morning. He wants to go home, goddammit. "You've got about three thousand on your tab, Mister Lee," he starts. "You sure you don't want to stop now?"
Lee Donghae glares at him, and through the strobe lights, Kyuhyun can see the very dark brown of his irises. "I'll stop when ah' wanna stop," he declares, setting down the bottle firmly on the table as if to solidate his order. "Besides, money ain't a problem." Through his drunken state, the Seoul accent has worn off to a country bumpkin, slurring his works and accentuating certain words.
Kyuhyun, though he doesn't want to admit it or even like the fact himself, actually finds that it's pretty cute.
Still. Oh god, it's a rich boy, he gripes in his head. Well, rich man. Jesus, where's Han Geng when you need him...
There's no Han Geng, but there is the smiling brunette that went by the name of Lee Hyukjae. Kyuhyun purses his lips as the man came by, glancing down at the only person left at the bar, the completely wasted blond. Walking next to him with a fairly skippy gait is the one Kyuhyun's beginning to recognize as Lee Sungmin. There's a sort of hardening for this Sungmin in his heart that Kyuhyun didn't know he was capable of creating, or even capable of feeling. He's not the type to go around and start hating people for no reason, y'know.
Kyuhyun glances at Hyukjae instead, finding that this man is easier to swallow. "Do you need anything, sir?" his voice is appropriately hoarse, and Kyuhyun frowns. He doesn't like how he sounds.
Hyukjae's eyebrows raise at the Korean, but then a smile flits across his face. You can see his gums when he does so. "Yeah, just need to get this lazy ass back where he belongs. No problem here. Sungmin, do you think you could get home with Taeyeon?"
Sungmin smiles sheepishly. "Taeyeon left with Yuri-ssi already. Yuri was apparently having quite the emergency, so I let them use my car. I figured I could get a ride with you."
Hyukjae frowned. "My car only fits two people...is there anyone who hasn't left yet?"
Meanwhile, Kyuhyun figures that it's about high-time that his shift has ended. He wipes his hands which are starting to become raw and sore from the constant handling from the night, and takes off his apron in the front. It's only at this time that he realizes that he'd buttoned his shirt wrong. Cursing underneath his breath, he pulls down one side to make it seem symmetrical, and then heads to the backroom - where Zhou Mi grins at him one more time and Tiffany gives a weak smile in goodbye - to grab his back and leave.
Just as he gets out of the employee's area though, he's stopped by Lee Hyukjae. The man looks worried and sends him a pleading look, soft and sincere, and Kyuhyun can't help but hesitate.
"I know this seems a little out-of-place and completely rude of me to ask, but this bastard over here is quite the heavy drinker and can't hold his alcohol well and - well, no one's picking up my calls and everyone else has already left, and so I was wondering if it was possible that you could take one of my cars and drive the guy home please?"
He talks so fast that Kyuhyun's just staring at him in shock for a second. After the shock wears off, he sputters, "Are you serious?"
"I'll pay you!" Hyukjae adds. "Not a lot, but it takes about half an hour to get back. I'll pay you? 2,000 yuan - how about that?"
Holy fuck. 2,000 yuan is basically half his paycheck! Kyuhyun's stares at Hyukjae as if he's insane, which is something he's seriously debating on right now. Why does the guy sound so desperate? Can't he get the blonde to go home with that Sungmin guy if they have two cars? Or maybe that Sungmin couldn't drive...but then again, why so much for a simple drop-off? Jesus, who the fuck cares, maybe with that extra cash he could get something better to eat once in a while - or, crap, a new keyboard. Wouldn't that be nice.
"Alright," Kyuhyun agrees a little bit reluctant. "But, uh, I don't know where - "
"GPS is in the car," Hyukjae explains, hurried. "And you can take the car to your own place, too, I don't mind - I'll get someone to track it down and pick it up later. It's just no one is available right now, and my cellphone is dead and Sungmin can't - " he takes a deep breath, and then gives a small, tired smile. "Yeah."
Kyuhyun almost feels sorry for the guy. At least he can fill his 'good samaritan' quota for the next week, at least.
Sungmin is waiting in Hyukjae's car - a fast, sporty thing that Kyuhyun only expects out of the rich - and he's taken to help a sleeping Donghae get into the car. At least this car is a nicer one. Dark black and sleek, no doubt somewhat on the expensive side, and Kyuhyun shoulders his ratty bag and tugs down on his unevenly buttoned shirt, feeling inadequate with flaming cheeks.
Thank god no one from work is watching him. Just to make sure, he looks behind him to confirm it.
Eunhyuk hands him the keys with another harried thank you, and then heads back to his own car. Kyuhyun hopes that the man gets a break - even at his own engagement party, he seems completely out of his element. But hey, what the fuck does Kyuhyun know.
For the first twenty minutes, it's smooth sailing. The guy - Lee Donghae - is fast asleep, his head lolling against the side window, and the GPS isn't like the faulty ones or the cheap one on his phone. They reach traffic soon enough though, and it's enough time for Kyuhyun to growl in frustration and run a hand through his hair. Never, never would he have found himself part of a fucking escort service for a few extra bucks. Well, whatever. You did what you had to do.
Grumbling, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. This was when Donghae woke up.
He isn't expecting the blonde to be awake for the whole ride. Sure, it would be a hassle when he needed to get the guy out of the car, but he figured that since they were heading to a fancy hotel anyway, he can just get one of the workers to take Donghae inside. After all, they would do anything to get on the rich man's good side, Kyuhyun concedes. He would deal with that hurdle when it comes.
But as Donghae shifts and wakes up, groaning loudly, Kyuhyun jerks and almost slips his grip on the wheel. Luckily he knows how to drive better in Shanghai and holds tight to the wheel, looking forward at the night sky and wondering why people were up at this hour.
"Wha' the..." the man grumbles, mumblings half gone. "Th' fuck am I?"
Kyuhyun doesn't grace him with a response.
"Who the hell are you?" Donghae slurs, and Kyuhyun has to give him credit for sounding better than he looks.
"Your driver," he snaps back. "Go back to sleep."
Donghae frowns at this and sits up in his seat, which only makes him dizzy. Kyuhyun doesn't know how to deal with this situation - he's never had to look after drunk friends, much less people he didn't even know. Donghae groans again. Kyuhyun panics.
"Hey - hey! Look here, don't get sick, okay? We're almost at your place, and it's your fault for drinking so freaking much anyway."
He can feel Donghae's eyes, strangely intense for a wasted person, burning a hole through his skull. The sounds of soft panting and the engine running is the only thing that goes on for a while.
"You're the bartender," Donghae says all of a sudden, voice strong. "The - that guy, right?"
Kyuhyun pauses. "Yeah."
Donghae doesn't say anything for the rest of the way home, but leans his head against his seat. Kyuhyun chances a glance at him; Donghae's weird, he thinks finally. Vaguely, he can make out the vague sheen of sweat on Donghae's forehead.
"Fuck," he whispers, face screwed in tight concentration. "Fuck, I think 'm about to throw up."
That sends Kyuhyun into a tizzy. He can deal with the craziness this far, but a puking client is what he can't stand for. Luckily, he pulls into the hotel just in the nick of time, not even bothering to turn off the engine before he gets out and runs to the other side where the entrance of the hotel is, hearing the car door open behind him.
"Hey, hey!" he calls out to the doorman, who notices them - particularly Donghae's head of blonde hair - and walks over with wide eyes.
It isn't enough time, though - Donghae staggers up behind him and then, holding on to Kyuhyun before he's about to fall over, throws up over Kyuhyun's shoulder, spoiling a good portion of his shirt and pants as he tries to hold Donghae's heavy weight at his side.
There's a putrid scent, and Kyuhyun's throat closes up.
"Sir! Sir, are you alright?" The doorman, absolutely stricken, looks at them with scared eyes, like he'll lose his job.
"Get a freaking assistant, what are you doing just standing there like a goddamn idiot!" Kyuhyun snaps, pushing against Donghae to stand upright. Donghae shudders, groaning.
"Goddammit," he mutters. "Fuck, 'm sorry 'bout tha' - "
And then suddenly there's two people pulling Donghae off of him, holding him steady in their hands and polished worries. Kyuhyun wants to throw up himself now. Instead, he remembers that he has a couple of tissues and an undershirt on, so that'll be enough to get him to his home fine enough - good thing he always wears two shirts for the cold weather.
Stumbling to get the car, he fumbles with the door before he hears someone call out, "Wait! Wait, I said wait god fucking dammit - " Kyuhyun pauses, because the words are uttered in Korean, and there's only one other Korean man around here.
Donghae grabs his arm out of some woman's grasp and scowls, his expressions seeming more wired and intense in his drunken state. He walks, slightly staggering, over to Kyuhyun and shuts the open car door behind him, taking the keys from Kyuhyun's hands and presses a bunch of buttons until the car beeps, and then grabs Kyuhyun's wrist before dragging him with a surprising amount of strength toward the hotel doors.
At first, Kyuhyun stands there with his mouth agape, but now he's back in full-fledged fighting mode, thinking about his bag in the car, thinking about his work tomorrow, thinking about fucking showering.
"Take the car to one of the parking spaces," Donghae says in fairly coherent Mandarin, throwing the keys to a male bellboy who stumbles with it. He begins to say something and the wide-eyed look on his face is similar to how Kyuhyun's feeling, trying to dig his heels in the ground and yelling crazily in any attempt to get this helluva insane man off him.
"Listen to what I say," Donghae retorts at the the bellboy, and then says to Kyuhyun, "Stop that! I got your clothes messy, so I'll fucking make it up to ya', alright?"
By this time they're in the lobby and they're causing quite a commotion. There's barely no one there, but the few that are turn toward them, their eyes flicking in distaste. Kyuhyun feels his face flush in both embarrassment and anger.
"I don't need your sympathy," Kyuhyun hisses in Korean. "Let me go, and I'll count it as a clear debt. No worry to your precious conscience."
Donghae gives him a dirty glare, and Kyuhyun wonders if he's really drunk or just pretending.
In the end, he follows up with Donghae's iron grip to his room, which is luckily not something stupid on the top floor or whatever. It's actually on the third floor and rather near the end of the hall, where the doors span less and less and Kyuhyun assumes these are the big rooms. Donghae's is large by even rich standards, Kyuhyun assumes, because what does he know about rich standards? It's primarily gold and ivory and marble, like a greek masterpiece, and Kyuhyun gapes before he's roughly let go. His wrist hurts and he rubs it.
"Fucking hell," Donghae mutters. "I should've just drove back myself."
Kyuhyun finds himself inwardly agreeing.
He's gone for a second, disappearing into the large vicinity, and Kyuhyun stands alone for a moment - the ring of emptiness around his ears deafening. It almost hurts. There's something incredibly somber about this beautiful place, hauntingly deserted, everything left in it's place.
Something is thrown toward him and Kyuhyun catches it out of reflex, finding it to be a pair of pants and a shirt. He looks down at it, and then at Donghae, who sways dangerously near some door, probably to the kitchen. His hand, knuckles white, clench the doors.
"Bathroom is there," He points down the hallway, words slurring together. "Help yourself." He abruptly turns and goes into the kitchen, disappearing behind his French door. Kyuhyun stands there for a second, utterly bewildered like he's never been before in his life, and then decides - fuck it, he needs a shower, and he's getting one right now.
He takes a good twenty minutes, trying to shower in ice-cold water to wake himself up. It doesn't work, so he changes it to hot - after flinching at the sudden temperature change - and scrubs himself until his skin is pink and his face is flushed.
The ends of his hair curl and he tugs as them, slipping into what seems like an ordinary t-shirt (no doubt that it's something expensive) and the pair of cargo pants, which is something he didn't expect to get.
Donghae's hunched over the counter of the kitchen when Kyuhyun quietly pads to the main room that he had first seen, planning to quietly sneak out and get back to the car and then, inevitably, home. But Donghae's murmuring stops him, and ever the curious person, Kyuhyun stills.
"You're such a fucking retard," the blond murmurs, his fist curling into shape on the counter. A half filled glass of water is next to his hand, precariously leaning toward the edge of the table. "Why'd you go? Knew you were g'na be a nervous fucking wreck, knew you were g'na mess the fuck up around 'im, so why were you such an idiot and - !" Kyuhyun jumps, heart thudding, as Donghae's hand meets the glass. Little pieces of glass litter the floor on the opposite side of the counter, water spilling across the floor, and Donghae hits the side of the sink behind him before slumping down the floor.
Kyuhyun, feeling a brief dash of panic - he doesn't want some random guy to die, after all - and heads toward the blonde, grabbing his arm and pushing him a little way. The guy's eyes are closed, and his breath comes in little tufts, so he's alive - but Kyuhyun has this terrible, terrible gut feeling, and shakes him some more. "Hey. Hey!"
Donghae doesn't wake. Kyuhyun grits his teeth.
Slowly, he pulls up the blonde with all the upper body strength he has, which is apparently enough to situate him on the beige sofa, leather jacket and all. As soon as he pulls away though - damn, is the guy heavy - he finds himself pulled, the sleeve of his shirt grabbed by none other than the sleeping man himself.
His face looks like he's running a fever, almost like he's drunk himself to death. And Kyuhyun doesn't know whether it's the silent sympathy he has, or the fact that the guy looks so goddamn pitiable, or the realization that the bone-shaking loneliness that haunts the rooms is something this guy faces everyday, but he sighs in defeat and sits down near the sofa, letting Donghae take hold of the large sleeve of his shirt, and lays against the headrest.
For tonight, he can play stranger with someone. Only because he's just as lonely.
/
When he opens his eyes, the world is discreetly bright, perhaps a bit too bright. His vision swims precariously in front of him, images going from three to two to one. His arms are cold, bare - Kyuhyun can feel the slightest of hairs goosebumping across his flesh. Opening his eyes blearily, he realizes that his neck is also killing him as well. Of course. He just can't have anything easy, can he?
He almost - almost expects to be back in his sweet home, the little apartment that he shares with his sister in their days together. It's sort of sad, he thinks, he supposes, but Kyuhyun doesn't have the time to be sad. There's no fucking time at all. Holding a hand to his pounding head, Kyuhyun takes in a silent breath.
Last night comes back quite steadily to him, and Kyuhyun hoists himself up with one arm. His limbs are stiff and sore, and he rubs his back for a while to get the ache out of them. Thank god he doesn't have any classes today. If he does, he can just skip them again. No big deal.
Kyuhyun stretches, feeling his bones pop back into place, when the door opens from behind him and he turns. There, the man from yesterday night stands, crossing his arms. Eyes bloodshot, hair messy and dark, and a frown on his face, Kyuhyun thinks that the guy has seen better days.
Apathetically, he gives the man a short nod, and then turns around to go to the door.
"Your name?" He hears from behind him, and Kyuhyun suddenly freezes. His head hurts, it hurts so much.
"Cho Kyuhyun," he grits out. "And before you begin to worry, I've already been paid." And without another word, he opens the door quite easily and slips out, closing it behind him with a quiet click.
Donghae is left still frowning after him, a peculiar look on his face.
/
"Where were you last night?" Zhou Mi wiggles his eyebrows in an unconvincing attempt to get Kyuhyun to talk. Kyuhyun knows better. He snorts and wipes down the bar, then smoothly ignores Zhou Mi in favor of the tables.
"Well, excuse me for caring about your ass!"
Kyuhyun flushes at how loud he is. "My ass is just fine, thanks. Shouldn't you be dancing around a pole or something?"
"That hurts, Guixian, and you know it." Zhou Mi still grins, and Kyuhyun huffs. "Those aren't your clothes, though, and your hair's a mess. You okay?" A pointed look is shot Kyuhyun's way, and the younger continues working as if nothing's wrong. He supposes it should be a red flag that Zhou Mi notices these things, but then again, Zhou Mi notices everything.
"I'm fine," he says in reply. "Just had to run a tough errand yesterday. No classes today either, so Han Geng said that I could man the morning shifts for a while. All the better for me."
Zhou Mi accepts this answer, thank god. His phone rings, and Kyuhyun can breathe as Zhou Mi goes into the backroom to answer it.
During the day, Han Geng's place turns into a nice in little place to eat. No longer a bar and club, just a saucy place that gives you more than you want, and sometimes even then, perhaps exactly what you were thinking about. Kyuhyun resigns himself to finish his job.
While the day is still young, the door opens and in comes a very familiar face.
Kyuhyun freezes as Donghae comes up to him, those brown eyes of his looking around the place with a calm eye. He doesn't look like the mess of a man he was last night. Instead, Donghae is the epitome of a businessman - fitted into an expensive suit, Rolex watch on his wrist, leather shoes clicking against the floor. Against the rest of the people here, he's a king in a whorehouse. The only thing that's off is his head full of messy, orange-blonde hair, and a darkening of skin from beneath his collared shirt, and the shopping bag in his hand. It's no doubt for Kyuhyun, because as the dark-haired man looks at him, frozen, Donghae's eyes meet his.
He walks forward in short, brief steps, and Kyuhyun hates him for just a little bit, because he's all polished and fine while Kyuhyun's barely had the time to tie his shoelaces.
"Cho Kyuhyun?" he asks, brief. His eyes are a little apprehensive, but Kyuhyun nods jerkily. In return, Donghae holds out the small shopping bag.
"Your clothes," he says in clarification. Kyuhyun takes it from him gingerly, as if it's got something explosive inside of it, and he has to grimace at the entire stupidity of it all. Donghae eyes him - nothing curious about it, simply calculating - and he opens his mouth -
"What's this?" Zhou Mi takes the bag from Kyuhyun's hand, who jumps and scowls. He opens the bag before Kyuhyun can react. It doesn't take long to piece together one and two, and his eyebrows are rising -
"It's nothing you're thinking about, Mi," Kyuhyun growls, taking back the bag from his hand with a snap. "And nothing like that happened. I drove him home. Mr. Lee asked me too."
"Mr. Lee?" Donghae queries, looking intrigued. He completely ignores the less-than-innocent suggestion. "What was his first name?"
"I don't know," Kyuhyun frowns. "Lee Hyukjae, if I'm not incorrect."
He doesn't have time to see Donghae's expression, because Zhou Mi grins. "Now I understand why you look the way you do this morning, Guixian. I didn't know - "
Kyuhyun's face flushes an angry red. "Cut it out, bastard."
This time, Donghae jumps in, sounding seemingly amused, seemingly haughty at the same time. "I agree. Nothing happened at all. Besides..." he takes a side glance at Kyuhyun, who looks weary and wound up at the same time, like a jack-in-the-box. The comparison is enough to make Donghae crack a smile. "...he's not my type."
Zhou Mi makes a sound in his throat. "Oh, I disagree with you, Mr. Stranger." A grin full of shark teeth crosses his face. "Kyuhyun is everyone's type." He flicks a piece of dark hair in front of Kyuhyun's seething face.
"Go back to work," he pushes Zhou Mi away, hands on his shoulders as Zhou Mi - a head full of fiery red hair - disappears behind the counter.
"Some guy you got there."
"Not mine," Kyuhyun responds. "Thanks for the bag." He rubs his wrist. "I'll get you your things as soon as I - "
"Keep it," Donghae cuts him off, crossing his arms. Then, silently, underneath his breath, he says, "Looks like you could use 'em."
There's a lot of things that get Kyuhyun upset. Granted, most of them are shallow, insignificant things - nothing worthy of being truly, irrefutably angry about. It's not like he has all the money in the world, yeah, and it's not like he's a fucking middle class citizen because sometimes he is and sometimes he isn't, but goddamn does nothing get on his nerves more than someone daring to look down at him -
Breathe, Kyuhyun. Breathe.
He sucks in sharply. "For your information, I'm perfectly fine with what I have right now. So I insist, I'll have the clothes back to you by tomorrow. Perhaps even today."
A thin, blonde eyebrow raises. "I doubt you'll be able to find my hotel again, Mr...Cho. I don't believe they'd let you in."
Something about Donghae's tone sets him off. That all-knowing, grating, privileged voice opens at his wounds, at his insecurities, and it leaves him unsettlingly bare. "Well," he says loftily, "It's quite a good thing there's technology called a GPS in the world."
Instead of biting back in anger, or narrowing his eyes in the blatant challenge, Lee Donghae's lips pull up into a smirk. "I didn't think you'd be so eager to be back in my presence, Mr. Cho."
"It's not eagerness, Mr. Lee. Trust me. Nothing much to be excited about when you're around."
The double meaning is not lost on Donghae, whose eyes twitch. Kyuhyun inwardly smirks. Sure, he isn't one to go around pissing people off, but sometimes you just need to release steam to get things going, you know?
"In any case," Kyuhyun begins, quite aware of his win in their verbal spar, "I'll have your things back to you. It's not like they're worth much, anyway."
/
Lee Donghae leaves after that with something akin to amused fury in his eyes. It burns bright and bounces off his blonde hair, leaving Kyuhyun staring after him with a slightly victorious drug running through his veins. Zhou Mi walks up beside him, whistling, a half-full glass in his hand.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you two got something going on," he comments.
"Good thing you know better."
Zhou Mi's eyes soften, and he sets the drink down in front of Kyuhyun. The other male stretches up against a table, crossing his arms, looking dutifully out of place. "Drink that. It'll make you feel better."
Kyuhyun does so. It tastes slightly bitter.
After he hands the glass back to his long time friend, Zhou Mi gives him another long look. "You okay?"
"I'm fucking peachy, Mi. What do you think?"
"I think your dirty mouth would do splendidly - "
"Finish that sentence and I'll castrate you."
Zhou Mi laughs. He pats Kyuhyun's head on the way out. "You never liked people before, and now you've got a whole flock after you. I can see it now." Lazily, Zhou Mi takes out a cigarette from his pocket and heads to the back room. "But you always were blind to some things, Guixian."
Kyuhyun doesn't grace him with a reply.
/
The very next day, Kyuhyun doesn't see the blonde walk into the bar, but he does see him sit down and fix a pointed stare at Kyuhyun's shoulder while he's working. Tilting down a glass of tequila, Kyuhyun sets it on the side and practically shoves it to the customer, feeling his irritation spike suddenly.
"Anything you'd like?" he says, quite a bit more snappish than he means to. Lee Donghae's eyes stare at him blankly, and - not that Kyuhyun would admit it, not ever - he feels slightly uncomfortable.
"A glass of chilled water," the blonde finally speaks, leaning against the side and looking out toward the bunches of people.
Kyuhyun doesn't know if it's a rave or if it's simply too many irresponsibly college students, but the music is a tad bit louder and more forceful than what the beat usually is. Everything seems like sensory overload at the point, and he can hear the sound of his own drumming heartbeat. Blood rushes through his veins as he fills a glass to the brim, and for a moment everything is dizzyingly dark.
Then, quite as easily as it came, it the feeling goes. He shoves the drink in front of Donghae and snaps his head around to look for more people, for other drunken idiots to serve, for other miseries to drown.
There are none. Silently, he curses the carelessness of youth.
"You're odd," Donghae mumbles, and Kyuhyun picks up on it, even though he doesn't want to. "It's like you're always cranky or something. Ever heard of something called a smile?"
"I don't think you're in a position to be patronizing me, Mr. Lee," he all but sneers in reply. "In fact, I think it'd be in your best opinion to go find a drink at another bar."
"Don't want to," the man says in reply. A smirk crosses his face, like a slow burn. "Not nearly as interesting."
"It's such a shame that other people aren't there for your personal amusement," Kyuhyun rubs his hands on the towel across his shoulder, a nervous habit of his. The heat, the sweat, the music is all too loud and wrong and it's bothering him. "I suggest you take a look at Luna's station. Perhaps she can even find someone to give you company."
Donghae swirls the straw in his drink. "Are you suggesting I can't find company myself, Mr. Cho?"
"Considering you've been talking to me, I'd say not."
At this, Donghae looks properly interested. Kyuhyun curses his mouth, wishes that he hadn't said such a self-depreciating thing. If only he insulted the other man more. If only. Now that interest was painted in sharp brown eyes, lighter in the red strobe light, and Kyuhyun stumbles slightly as a glass is pushed toward him from the drunken man beside Donghae.
"I'd say your company is less than preferable, yes," he agrees, but with a curious edge, continues, "But I doubt it'd be that scorned."
Kyuhyun stiffens. "I don't like people, Mr. Lee."
Donghae grins, a grin full of shark teeth. "I don't like liars."
Fixing him with a cool stare, Kyuhyun continues, "It's a good thing you're an asshole then. No one would dare spending their precious time lying to get into your good graces." If there are any, he grumbles to himself. Walking away rather quickly, he fails to see Donghae's eyes trailing after his form, going into the back to pick up a few painkillers. His head is killing him.
Heechul is stretched across one of the couches in the back room, and he barely gives Kyuhyun a glance when he comes in. There's something very vulnerable about Heechul these days, something that he doesn't like at all. Kyuhyun hurries out of the room without another word.
Donghae is still sitting there when he comes back out to the scene. Kyuhyun has half a mind to go behind and plead Han Geng to give him another shift on another day, but that - that, is admitting defeat, admitting submission to a challenge he didn't even know had been issued.
Carefully rearranging the folds of his shirt, Kyuhyun goes back to his job.
Thankfully for him, Donghae doesn't say anymore for the rest of the night. He's dressed rather casually, with a cotton button up and slacks, but he never asks for alcohol and never seems to rid of his all-encompassing gaze. Hours pass - two, three, four, before it's nearly one in the morning and everyone's leaving. There's going to be another wave, another bout of people, Kyuhyun knows, but he doesn't handle them. After a while, it gets hard to handle anything.
He's in the process of cleaning up - wiping down tables, moving like he's used to - when Donghae's voice - almost forgotten in the memory of the club - presses against his ears.
"I was serious," he says, real quiet. "I don't need the clothes. Don't return them back."
He hands over a bill or two, disregarding Kyuhyun's surprised eyes, and easily slides out of the bar seat and out the door. The night welcomes him gracefully before there's not a sign of his tell-tale blonde hair left.
/
-> part II