(for duqingzhu) CUTTHROAT
For: duqingzhu
Title: CUTTHROAT
Pairings: Kai/D.O
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,672
Warnings: slight!Angst
Summary: n/a
Author’s Note: this ended up with a lot more ~~feelings~~ than i expected.
The money is so cold in his hands, cold like his heart is now, he thinks with a smirk that's dying before it even begins.
Kyungsoo can remember when he dreamed of rising to the top on goodwill and honest skill, a dream that he wrote cutthroat over in big red letters himself at the tender age of nine. The dream had been well kept, but in the backwaters of his mind with hints of disdain and nostalgia. He had always considered himself a romantic, but whether or not you saw that side of him depended on how many gemstones he'd managed to convince the jeweller to encrust into his disposable pen of the day.
It was almost like how some people needed their coffee before they could really begin to function.
Once upon a time he may have needed coffee to drag himself to an office sometime around eight-thirty, but now he is not the one arriving at work just before nine, he is the one telling those below him on the corporate ladder (read: everyone) to tell whoever is in charge of setting work hours to have employees come in at nine.
It's boredom that makes him ask for a redesign of the company logo, and it's boredom that makes him write an absurd decree stating that all staplers in any Do Corporations building must be bright red.
Even his slightest whim can turn the company on its head, because his word is law, and law must be obeyed. (Or not, as long as you've got a sufficient bribe, Kyungsoo figures.)
So quite naturally, when he's running on a hard heart and too much money, boredom offers so many possibilities.
He is terribly bored when he decides to look into getting an escort. After all he has no wife, or husband in this case, and maybe that was the fault of the perfectionistic romantic in him rearing its narrow head.
One of the names sounds shockingly familiar, a certain Kim Jongin, although Kyungsoo can't quite place it. The face looks equally familiar, but equally mysterious. It makes Kyungsoo curious, and for once, not so bored. It is an odd day when Do Kyungsoo forgets something, so for the sake of his curiosity, he hires 'Kim Jongin'.
They are scheduled to meet on a Thursday (because Wednesdays are Polka Dot Day for his secretaries and it never fails to make him feel quite proud of his boredom) at a little cafe of Kyungsoo's choosing, to hash some details out in person. Honestly the food there wasn't even that good, but rather ridiculously overpriced, so he visited often to spend without any tangible consequences aside from a larger stomach.
The Thursday approaches relatively slowly, mostly the fault of the fact that Kyungsoo is not having fun.
When it finally does arrive, Kyungsoo enters the cafe at exactly at the scheduled time, his punctuality is still something almost nothing could destroy.
It appears this Jongin is already seated at a table, reading over a menu. Kyungsoo sits across from him. "Hello," he says, trying his best to sound polite. His mother had raised him well, after all!
Jongin jumps in his seat, and drops the menu to look at Kyungsoo. "Erm, hello. Kinda shocked me there," he says, sounding thoroughly embarrassed. He mutters something under his breath that Kyungsoo can't quite make out.
"Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that." Kyungsoo asks, tone still measured and polite.
The taller clears his throat into his fist before looking Kyungsoo dead in the eye and saying, voice deep and heavy, "Do you really not remember me? Although I suppose that would be a good thing."
That sparks something in Kyungsoo's memory, and he knows who Jongin is. Jongin, the one who often punched him in the eye, the jaw, then kicked him as he fell. Jongin, the one with the crooning crowds of girls trying to make Kyungsoo's life a living hell just for some attention.
"Ah, I just remembered. No wonder I forgot. So, Jongin, how have these past few years been treating you?" Kyungsoo asks, only shreds of his polite facade remain. He does not want to hear a pleasant answer, as childishly vengeful as it is.
Jongin shrugs, "Decent enough, I suppose. What about you?" It is clear to the other he is trying to make amends, earn some more money.
Kyungsoo smiles. "I'm great."
He is about to continue but a waiter arrives at the table, interrupting him. Before Jongin can speak, Kyungsoo orders two 'Autumn Chicken Fettucinnes', the most expensive item on the menu. The waiter nods mousily, and scurries away leaving a gaping Jongin behind.
"That was the most expensive on the menu," Jongin says, clearly surprised.
Kyungsoo gives him a bemused look that says 'you're so naive it's almost adorable'. Jongin replies with a roll of the eyes.
"So," Kyungsoo begins, pausing to take a sip of his water before continuing, "how'd you end up doing this?" It is, oddly enough, an honest question. Kyungsoo was genuinely curious how his childhood tormentor had ended up entertaining rich men and women for a living, not that he really should've expected anything better from the other.
Jongin shrugs, says, "It just kinda happened, I guess. I didn't want a nine to five and this pays pretty well so I figured why not? But since we're asking questions and all that, why'd you pick me of all people?"
Now Kyungsoo is silent for a moment to think. He taps his chin exactly fifteen times, a childhood habit. "Well, I felt like I knew you, or something, I suppose, or maybe it was a subconscious desire to watch you writhe in guilt. I do think I've turned out rather nicely." As he finishes speaking, he stops tapping and pats his cheek once instead, and sends a little smile Jongin's way that would no doubt seem innocent in any other context.
The other flushes a dusky kind of color, and Kyungsoo's smile only widens. "Uh, yeah," Jongin chokes out, but is saved by the mousy waiter carrying two trays of probably only decent plates of pasta.
They eat in silence for the most part, besides Jongin murmuring something that sounded like 'ridiculously overpriced' and Kyungsoo shooting him a slightly patronizing look. Nonetheless, their plates are both nearly clean when they stop eating. Kyungsoo breaks the silence first.
"So, would you like to come to my, ah, mansion? Bit more private than this place," he says, with just the right amount of detached arrogance, in his opinion. (It is too much.)
Jongin pauses, then shrugs, casually asking: "But don't you have work?" Kyungsoo shakes his head, but quickly adds, "Unless you're into that kind of thing, no."
Jongin quickly shakes his head, standing to his full height. He is still much taller than Kyungsoo, who supposes it cannot be helped.
“You can just follow my car. You can't miss it,” the shorter tells Jongin, as they step outside. It's true, his sports car (some expensive brand name, a foreign thing he can't think of on the spot), is a plain grey but decorated with angry fire ant red horizontal stripes down the hood.
Jongin whistles appreciatively, and walks to a small car in a shimmery gold color. “Okay, then. Just lead the way,” he says.
Kyungsoo nods, and drops into his car, starting it up. The drive is about fifteen minutes, with bubblegum pop from the radio filling the silence. He supposes he ought to change it to something more suitable. Classical, perhaps?
He can see Jongin's car in the rearview mirror. Kyungsoo stops in the driveway of a modernist mansion sitting alone on a hill. He's already opening the door when Jongin's car pulls up. A slender creamy tabby is sitting by the door when Kyungsoo walks in and takes off his leather shoes. The cat meows expectantly to which he replies, “Yes, yes, Suho, I'm back, don't kill the visitor, thank you.”
Jongin slips through the closing door almost awkwardly, eyes widening at the sight of the cat. Suho lets out an annoyed meow, and stalks off.
“I, uh, I didn't think you'd have pets,” Jongin says, untying the laces of a pair of sneakers. Kyungsoo chuckles, leaning against the wall. “Well, this house would seem a little too big all by myself, don't you think? That was Suho, and I have an albino prarie dog for no real reason. That's all though. I've been considering getting a snake as well, though. Itdr be a welcome break from two needy others.” He's almost rambling to fill the silence. There hasn't been anyone else here with him for a long time.
Jongin makes a face, then admits, “I don't like reptiles, so I'm not really who you should be talking to," with a shrug.
Kyungsoo replies with a more exaggerated shrug. Jongin's slipped off his sneakers now, and gestures for the other to lead the way. The shorter turns to walk down the entryway, and takes a right up some spiraling stairs, and walks into his expansive bedroom.
He stands by one of four armchairs, all matching in a deep burgundy color in contrast to the white walls.
"Now, do you want honesty, or do you want business?" Kyungsoo asks, turning around to face a startled Jongin rapidly.
"Honesty, I suppose. Isn't there a saying, 'honesty's the best policy'?" He replies. Kyungsoo motions for him to sit, so he does, in the armchair across from the one Kyungsoo is leaning on.
"I've hired you mostly to look nice by my side at parties and the social gatherings required of someone like me, but I'd like to make sure we are, ah, compatible. At least more so than in high school." Kyungsoo tells him, plopping into his seat after finishing.
Jongin raises an eyebrow. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" He doesn't even sound that shocked, more gently curious.
"Well," Kyungsoo says, beckoning Jongin closer, "I hope you are."
Jongin stands, and walks gracefully over to Kyungsoo, who reaches up to grab the collar of his white polo and pull him closer. He pauses for a moment then, as if examining the other's face, from hair to chin and back up again.
And suddenly, he kisses him hard and fast and almost angry, and Jongin kisses him right back.
Soon, almost too soon, everything's a hot, wet haze. Time passes in a blur, and soon they're laying an arm's length away from each other on the grey-red bedsheets, not really acknowledging the other.
Kyungsoo stands to retrieve his clothing strewn around the room, and stands before the bed, fully dressed, a hand on his hip.
"I have a party to attend in a week, starting at eight. You will be free? It's semiformal, with a white and gold theme. Arrive here at seven-thirty, you understand?" His voice is no longer polite, or passionate, but brisk and businesslike.
Jongin nods, looking almost exactly like the boy he was in high school, only he is draped lazily over Kyungsoo's own bed sheets and it is more than slightly infuriating, so Kyungsoo retreats to the large kitchen, glass aquarium panels hosting a variety of exotic fish separating it from the dining room.
He realizes he has not cooked in a long time, and the sound of the front door closing sets him to work on dinner.
The party is hosted by someone Kyungsoo was friends with, once, while they were both still interns at the same company, but now he is only invited out of politeness.
Jongin only stands by his side and smiles, speaking when spoken to, and not revealing too much about himself, which Kyungsoo can appreciate. It's not like there's really anyone listening; everyone's drunk so quickly it would hardly make a difference if Kyungsoo had taken Jongin and left that very minute. The pair of them seemed to be some of the few still sober, as Kyungsoo was driving them, and Jongin had expressed a dislike of white wine, the only drink offered.
In fact, they do leave the party not long after it starts, managing to slip away unnoticed entirely.
Somehow, it manages to devolve into another night of mindless passion, a turn Kyungsoo figures he should've been expecting.
He is only glad he doesn't receive any anger from that friend turned turned acquaintance for leaving early. He is still convinced that they never noticed.
They meet up occasionally, just to talk. Jongin attends another few parties and the like with him, but they end in the same way, for the most part.
Kyungsoo finds out why Jongin bullied him, somewhat. It's hard to decipher the flailing hand motions and slightly nonsensical words Jongin is using to describe his feelings from back then.
(Kyungsoo can only pity the unlucky people Jongin will someday explain his feelings towards.)
Kyungsoo begins cooking more, because feeding Jongin's expensive taste for experimental, foreign gourmet foods is almost starting to take a toll on his bank account, and he's shudders at the thought of providing the other's every meal.
(He also pities Jongin's mother, who he knew to be a kindly but strict woman.)
Once Kyungsoo asks Jongin where he gets his suits, as they are all so very well made, and Jongin rambles for and hour and a half about the sweet old man who runs a back-alley tailoring shop with broken Korean and fabric of questionable origin.
Kyungsoo decides that it is almost unfair how Jongin is almost bursting with life and he himself sits in his office chair, only writing out the most trivial decrees and not really even leading his company anymore.
He can't even remember the last time he found a hair grayed prematurely from stress.
He removes the ban on staplers that aren't red, but he decides to keep Polka-Dot day because it is still hilarious, although he does wonder where the pasty white boy who was only recently promoted manages to wear a completely different set of clothing each week.
It's slightly terrifying, but as time passes, the pair of them almost become something akin to friends, even if they only speak once a week or less and most of their conversations are Jongin recounting his daily adventures down the small streets of Seoul with his poodles.
They don't really talk about anything with substance, so on a drizzly day when Jongin is showing Kyungsoo a hole in the wall cafe he's found, Kyungsoo puts his tea down gently and leans forward to say, "Have you ever thought about the future?"
This makes Jongin pause from his speech about the merits of helping strangers, and look at Kyungsoo oddly.
"No, I guess I haven't. I'm more of a 'go with the flow' type," he says finally, some sort of ashamed coloring his words.
Kyungsoo nods at the answer he expected, and leans back into his seat to wait for Jongin to continue.
But he doesn't. He only demurely sips at the frothy drink he ordered, staring into nothingness.
Kyungsoo sighs, and speaks again. "You really can't be an escort forever, you know."
Jongin doesn't move for a moment or five, but then looks Kyungsoo dead in the eye to say, "But maybe I could still say with you?"
If Kyungsoo is hearing what he thinks he's hearing, then the answer is a definite no. He smiles that bemused smile he had on their first meeting, only a softer, more genuine version.
"I'm sorry, Jongin, but that just wouldn't work out. For me, this relationship may have been some form of a friendship, but ultimately I am paying you for your time, and this is business, so I'm afraid my answer is no."
Jongin nods understandingly and Kyungsoo rises to leave. He does, with only a little wave in the other's direction.
Later, he has returned home and is laying in his bed, his cat sprawled out taking up his pillow, and he falls into an easy dreamless sleep.
They still talk, sometimes, but not nearly as often as before, and not with the same kind of easiness, but that is what choices they have made.
Title: CUTTHROAT
Pairings: Kai/D.O
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,672
Warnings: slight!Angst
Summary: n/a
Author’s Note: this ended up with a lot more ~~feelings~~ than i expected.
The money is so cold in his hands, cold like his heart is now, he thinks with a smirk that's dying before it even begins.
Kyungsoo can remember when he dreamed of rising to the top on goodwill and honest skill, a dream that he wrote cutthroat over in big red letters himself at the tender age of nine. The dream had been well kept, but in the backwaters of his mind with hints of disdain and nostalgia. He had always considered himself a romantic, but whether or not you saw that side of him depended on how many gemstones he'd managed to convince the jeweller to encrust into his disposable pen of the day.
It was almost like how some people needed their coffee before they could really begin to function.
Once upon a time he may have needed coffee to drag himself to an office sometime around eight-thirty, but now he is not the one arriving at work just before nine, he is the one telling those below him on the corporate ladder (read: everyone) to tell whoever is in charge of setting work hours to have employees come in at nine.
It's boredom that makes him ask for a redesign of the company logo, and it's boredom that makes him write an absurd decree stating that all staplers in any Do Corporations building must be bright red.
Even his slightest whim can turn the company on its head, because his word is law, and law must be obeyed. (Or not, as long as you've got a sufficient bribe, Kyungsoo figures.)
So quite naturally, when he's running on a hard heart and too much money, boredom offers so many possibilities.
He is terribly bored when he decides to look into getting an escort. After all he has no wife, or husband in this case, and maybe that was the fault of the perfectionistic romantic in him rearing its narrow head.
One of the names sounds shockingly familiar, a certain Kim Jongin, although Kyungsoo can't quite place it. The face looks equally familiar, but equally mysterious. It makes Kyungsoo curious, and for once, not so bored. It is an odd day when Do Kyungsoo forgets something, so for the sake of his curiosity, he hires 'Kim Jongin'.
They are scheduled to meet on a Thursday (because Wednesdays are Polka Dot Day for his secretaries and it never fails to make him feel quite proud of his boredom) at a little cafe of Kyungsoo's choosing, to hash some details out in person. Honestly the food there wasn't even that good, but rather ridiculously overpriced, so he visited often to spend without any tangible consequences aside from a larger stomach.
The Thursday approaches relatively slowly, mostly the fault of the fact that Kyungsoo is not having fun.
When it finally does arrive, Kyungsoo enters the cafe at exactly at the scheduled time, his punctuality is still something almost nothing could destroy.
It appears this Jongin is already seated at a table, reading over a menu. Kyungsoo sits across from him. "Hello," he says, trying his best to sound polite. His mother had raised him well, after all!
Jongin jumps in his seat, and drops the menu to look at Kyungsoo. "Erm, hello. Kinda shocked me there," he says, sounding thoroughly embarrassed. He mutters something under his breath that Kyungsoo can't quite make out.
"Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that." Kyungsoo asks, tone still measured and polite.
The taller clears his throat into his fist before looking Kyungsoo dead in the eye and saying, voice deep and heavy, "Do you really not remember me? Although I suppose that would be a good thing."
That sparks something in Kyungsoo's memory, and he knows who Jongin is. Jongin, the one who often punched him in the eye, the jaw, then kicked him as he fell. Jongin, the one with the crooning crowds of girls trying to make Kyungsoo's life a living hell just for some attention.
"Ah, I just remembered. No wonder I forgot. So, Jongin, how have these past few years been treating you?" Kyungsoo asks, only shreds of his polite facade remain. He does not want to hear a pleasant answer, as childishly vengeful as it is.
Jongin shrugs, "Decent enough, I suppose. What about you?" It is clear to the other he is trying to make amends, earn some more money.
Kyungsoo smiles. "I'm great."
He is about to continue but a waiter arrives at the table, interrupting him. Before Jongin can speak, Kyungsoo orders two 'Autumn Chicken Fettucinnes', the most expensive item on the menu. The waiter nods mousily, and scurries away leaving a gaping Jongin behind.
"That was the most expensive on the menu," Jongin says, clearly surprised.
Kyungsoo gives him a bemused look that says 'you're so naive it's almost adorable'. Jongin replies with a roll of the eyes.
"So," Kyungsoo begins, pausing to take a sip of his water before continuing, "how'd you end up doing this?" It is, oddly enough, an honest question. Kyungsoo was genuinely curious how his childhood tormentor had ended up entertaining rich men and women for a living, not that he really should've expected anything better from the other.
Jongin shrugs, says, "It just kinda happened, I guess. I didn't want a nine to five and this pays pretty well so I figured why not? But since we're asking questions and all that, why'd you pick me of all people?"
Now Kyungsoo is silent for a moment to think. He taps his chin exactly fifteen times, a childhood habit. "Well, I felt like I knew you, or something, I suppose, or maybe it was a subconscious desire to watch you writhe in guilt. I do think I've turned out rather nicely." As he finishes speaking, he stops tapping and pats his cheek once instead, and sends a little smile Jongin's way that would no doubt seem innocent in any other context.
The other flushes a dusky kind of color, and Kyungsoo's smile only widens. "Uh, yeah," Jongin chokes out, but is saved by the mousy waiter carrying two trays of probably only decent plates of pasta.
They eat in silence for the most part, besides Jongin murmuring something that sounded like 'ridiculously overpriced' and Kyungsoo shooting him a slightly patronizing look. Nonetheless, their plates are both nearly clean when they stop eating. Kyungsoo breaks the silence first.
"So, would you like to come to my, ah, mansion? Bit more private than this place," he says, with just the right amount of detached arrogance, in his opinion. (It is too much.)
Jongin pauses, then shrugs, casually asking: "But don't you have work?" Kyungsoo shakes his head, but quickly adds, "Unless you're into that kind of thing, no."
Jongin quickly shakes his head, standing to his full height. He is still much taller than Kyungsoo, who supposes it cannot be helped.
“You can just follow my car. You can't miss it,” the shorter tells Jongin, as they step outside. It's true, his sports car (some expensive brand name, a foreign thing he can't think of on the spot), is a plain grey but decorated with angry fire ant red horizontal stripes down the hood.
Jongin whistles appreciatively, and walks to a small car in a shimmery gold color. “Okay, then. Just lead the way,” he says.
Kyungsoo nods, and drops into his car, starting it up. The drive is about fifteen minutes, with bubblegum pop from the radio filling the silence. He supposes he ought to change it to something more suitable. Classical, perhaps?
He can see Jongin's car in the rearview mirror. Kyungsoo stops in the driveway of a modernist mansion sitting alone on a hill. He's already opening the door when Jongin's car pulls up. A slender creamy tabby is sitting by the door when Kyungsoo walks in and takes off his leather shoes. The cat meows expectantly to which he replies, “Yes, yes, Suho, I'm back, don't kill the visitor, thank you.”
Jongin slips through the closing door almost awkwardly, eyes widening at the sight of the cat. Suho lets out an annoyed meow, and stalks off.
“I, uh, I didn't think you'd have pets,” Jongin says, untying the laces of a pair of sneakers. Kyungsoo chuckles, leaning against the wall. “Well, this house would seem a little too big all by myself, don't you think? That was Suho, and I have an albino prarie dog for no real reason. That's all though. I've been considering getting a snake as well, though. Itdr be a welcome break from two needy others.” He's almost rambling to fill the silence. There hasn't been anyone else here with him for a long time.
Jongin makes a face, then admits, “I don't like reptiles, so I'm not really who you should be talking to," with a shrug.
Kyungsoo replies with a more exaggerated shrug. Jongin's slipped off his sneakers now, and gestures for the other to lead the way. The shorter turns to walk down the entryway, and takes a right up some spiraling stairs, and walks into his expansive bedroom.
He stands by one of four armchairs, all matching in a deep burgundy color in contrast to the white walls.
"Now, do you want honesty, or do you want business?" Kyungsoo asks, turning around to face a startled Jongin rapidly.
"Honesty, I suppose. Isn't there a saying, 'honesty's the best policy'?" He replies. Kyungsoo motions for him to sit, so he does, in the armchair across from the one Kyungsoo is leaning on.
"I've hired you mostly to look nice by my side at parties and the social gatherings required of someone like me, but I'd like to make sure we are, ah, compatible. At least more so than in high school." Kyungsoo tells him, plopping into his seat after finishing.
Jongin raises an eyebrow. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" He doesn't even sound that shocked, more gently curious.
"Well," Kyungsoo says, beckoning Jongin closer, "I hope you are."
Jongin stands, and walks gracefully over to Kyungsoo, who reaches up to grab the collar of his white polo and pull him closer. He pauses for a moment then, as if examining the other's face, from hair to chin and back up again.
And suddenly, he kisses him hard and fast and almost angry, and Jongin kisses him right back.
Soon, almost too soon, everything's a hot, wet haze. Time passes in a blur, and soon they're laying an arm's length away from each other on the grey-red bedsheets, not really acknowledging the other.
Kyungsoo stands to retrieve his clothing strewn around the room, and stands before the bed, fully dressed, a hand on his hip.
"I have a party to attend in a week, starting at eight. You will be free? It's semiformal, with a white and gold theme. Arrive here at seven-thirty, you understand?" His voice is no longer polite, or passionate, but brisk and businesslike.
Jongin nods, looking almost exactly like the boy he was in high school, only he is draped lazily over Kyungsoo's own bed sheets and it is more than slightly infuriating, so Kyungsoo retreats to the large kitchen, glass aquarium panels hosting a variety of exotic fish separating it from the dining room.
He realizes he has not cooked in a long time, and the sound of the front door closing sets him to work on dinner.
The party is hosted by someone Kyungsoo was friends with, once, while they were both still interns at the same company, but now he is only invited out of politeness.
Jongin only stands by his side and smiles, speaking when spoken to, and not revealing too much about himself, which Kyungsoo can appreciate. It's not like there's really anyone listening; everyone's drunk so quickly it would hardly make a difference if Kyungsoo had taken Jongin and left that very minute. The pair of them seemed to be some of the few still sober, as Kyungsoo was driving them, and Jongin had expressed a dislike of white wine, the only drink offered.
In fact, they do leave the party not long after it starts, managing to slip away unnoticed entirely.
Somehow, it manages to devolve into another night of mindless passion, a turn Kyungsoo figures he should've been expecting.
He is only glad he doesn't receive any anger from that friend turned turned acquaintance for leaving early. He is still convinced that they never noticed.
They meet up occasionally, just to talk. Jongin attends another few parties and the like with him, but they end in the same way, for the most part.
Kyungsoo finds out why Jongin bullied him, somewhat. It's hard to decipher the flailing hand motions and slightly nonsensical words Jongin is using to describe his feelings from back then.
(Kyungsoo can only pity the unlucky people Jongin will someday explain his feelings towards.)
Kyungsoo begins cooking more, because feeding Jongin's expensive taste for experimental, foreign gourmet foods is almost starting to take a toll on his bank account, and he's shudders at the thought of providing the other's every meal.
(He also pities Jongin's mother, who he knew to be a kindly but strict woman.)
Once Kyungsoo asks Jongin where he gets his suits, as they are all so very well made, and Jongin rambles for and hour and a half about the sweet old man who runs a back-alley tailoring shop with broken Korean and fabric of questionable origin.
Kyungsoo decides that it is almost unfair how Jongin is almost bursting with life and he himself sits in his office chair, only writing out the most trivial decrees and not really even leading his company anymore.
He can't even remember the last time he found a hair grayed prematurely from stress.
He removes the ban on staplers that aren't red, but he decides to keep Polka-Dot day because it is still hilarious, although he does wonder where the pasty white boy who was only recently promoted manages to wear a completely different set of clothing each week.
It's slightly terrifying, but as time passes, the pair of them almost become something akin to friends, even if they only speak once a week or less and most of their conversations are Jongin recounting his daily adventures down the small streets of Seoul with his poodles.
They don't really talk about anything with substance, so on a drizzly day when Jongin is showing Kyungsoo a hole in the wall cafe he's found, Kyungsoo puts his tea down gently and leans forward to say, "Have you ever thought about the future?"
This makes Jongin pause from his speech about the merits of helping strangers, and look at Kyungsoo oddly.
"No, I guess I haven't. I'm more of a 'go with the flow' type," he says finally, some sort of ashamed coloring his words.
Kyungsoo nods at the answer he expected, and leans back into his seat to wait for Jongin to continue.
But he doesn't. He only demurely sips at the frothy drink he ordered, staring into nothingness.
Kyungsoo sighs, and speaks again. "You really can't be an escort forever, you know."
Jongin doesn't move for a moment or five, but then looks Kyungsoo dead in the eye to say, "But maybe I could still say with you?"
If Kyungsoo is hearing what he thinks he's hearing, then the answer is a definite no. He smiles that bemused smile he had on their first meeting, only a softer, more genuine version.
"I'm sorry, Jongin, but that just wouldn't work out. For me, this relationship may have been some form of a friendship, but ultimately I am paying you for your time, and this is business, so I'm afraid my answer is no."
Jongin nods understandingly and Kyungsoo rises to leave. He does, with only a little wave in the other's direction.
Later, he has returned home and is laying in his bed, his cat sprawled out taking up his pillow, and he falls into an easy dreamless sleep.
They still talk, sometimes, but not nearly as often as before, and not with the same kind of easiness, but that is what choices they have made.