Encore and Curtain Call
ʚ Title: Encore and Curtain Call for curryramyeon ♡
ʚ Pairing(s): Jongin/Kyungsoo
ʚ Rating: PG-13
ʚ Warnings: N/A
ʚ Word Count: 6000
ʚ Summary: Kyungsoo enters Suite 106 to deliver things, and he leaves with a feeling of contempt, love, and everything else in between.
ʚ Message for your recipient/author note: Dear recipient, I’m sorry that the mailman in prompt turns into a hotel bellboy/butler somewhere along the way. But I tried my best to keep the essence of what I got from your prompt. I hope you enjoy it. Happy New Year!
Encore and Curtain Call
It’s Monday morning, seven-nineteen, and right after clocking in Kyungsoo knows that it’s going to be a long, hard day. In his assignment box he finds a slip that says ‘106-The Lagoon’. He sighs; the rich bastard is back in town to ruin his life. Not that his part time work in hospitality industry is generally easy. As a five-star hotel steward, Kyungsoo is subjected to a lot of ass kissing and self-restraint in daily basis. If it isn’t due to the good pay and generous tipping that has been providing significant contribution to his grad school tuition, Kyungsoo would have walked out of the door long time ago.
He snatches the slip and tucks it carefully inside his pocket. As much as he wants to burn the paper instead, he’s going to need it for monthly appraisal later. Stealing a glance into the wall mirror and making sure that his tie is straight, Kyungsoo is heading toward his post for the day.
“Morning Jongdae,” Kyungsoo taps on the front desk’s counter. “My pile, please?”
Jongdae, whose nametag says ‘Hospitality Officer’ but in reality is just an overpaid receptionist and a bouncer with manicured nails, looks up and grins. “You’re late. The bagel is getting cold.” He says, handing the steward his to-do list.
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes upon seeing the long list of things to do. He smiles resignedly, “Can’t help it. I had to study for tax accounting test last night.”
“Oh well, good luck then.” Jongdae frowns, pushing a universal access key toward his friend. “Wanna grab lunch together today?”
“We’ll see...” Kyungsoo says wistfully while swiping his access key to the electronic door. “Let’s just wish that Mr. Rich Bastard won’t be fretting much today.”
‘The Lagoon’ is a low-rise building deep within the hotel compound; secluded, private, and reek of wealth from the state-of-the-art eco friendly architecture, man-made lagoon that becomes the icon and namesake of the place, pseudo-tropical garden, 24-hour security and strict password access, and the number of imported sport cars that park in front of the building. It’s a quarter dedicated to the hotel’s wealthiest clients with extended stays.
Working at The Lagoon is the wish of all the hotel’s stewards due to its perks. Each day, they are only assigned to one suite, like a private butler, instead of serving a mass of clients. They do everything-from packing and unpacking the guests’ luggages, serving meals, preparing the bath, arranging flowers, or even giving back scrub if the guest so wishes it-except cleaning. The pay is good too; since the stewards who work there are subjected to higher standards, they receive bonus for each day they are posted there. Not to mention the tip, because really, rich people spare nothing for service excellence.
Kyungsoo has nothing against working at the The Lagoon. He enjoys it, in fact, because he gets to stay in a much emptier staff quarter during his idle periods, when he can steal time to look into his text books and coursework while waiting for his client to summon him for a task. But all the perks of working at The Lagoon don’t seem to worth it whenever he has to deal with Rich Bastard at 106.
It’s not that Rich Bastard is a jerk or something. Quite the opposite, he’s a well-mannered, handsome young man who tips well and has no record of treating Kyungsoo wrong. Except for the fact that he makes Kyungsoo his mailman slash courier slash errand boy for dozens of time each day, making Kyungsoo’s idle time gets shorter. Ever since he attends to Rich Bastard, Kyungsoo’s grade has been slipping; he found it harder to maintain his double merit. As a scholarship student, he can’t afford not to be on top. Throw in the fact that the Rich Bastard is younger than him, but already completed his graduate degree from an Ivy League university in US, as well as managing a company on his own -old money, not achieved-Kyungsoo couldn’t help but feeling a resentment toward him.
That, and the way Rich Bastard always stares openly at him whenever he’s around, like waiting for Kyungsoo to make even the smallest mistake.
The room was ajar when Kyungsoo walks in. Rich Bastard has not awoken yet. He saw a silhouette on the bed; long legs peek out from underneath the Egyptian cotton sheet. He tiptoes his way to the less private part of the suite-a dining quarter at the opposite of the bed, and unpacks the delivery.
The package inside the brown bag is from one of the best deli in town. It’s only the first among many that he has to deliver for the day. The Rich Bastard has grown a habit of making Kyungsoo a courier; intercepting deliveries from various premises-from Thom Browne’s boutique to the next-door patisserie-and brings it to Suite 106. A service that is actually unnecessary, really, because the hotel allows couriers to go into the hotel after a screening.
Alas, Rich Bastard always makes him do the tiny extra task, and Kyungsoo has no power to say otherwise.
Just when Kyungsoo places the neatly folded napkin on the table-for-two by the deck, he hears splashing sound of water. The Rich Bastard, nearly naked save for his tiny speedo, climbs up the private pool and notices him. He blushes and looks away, smoothing the nonexistent crease on the linen, and greets his client.
“G-good morning Mr. Kim. Your breakfast is ready.”
“Thank you. Could you hand me a bathrobe and pour me a glass of water first?”
The overly polite words that he uses always get on Kyungsoo’s nerve. Why can’t this man be normal and just treats him like a fixture like others?
“Of course.”
“Oh, and once more...”
Kyungsoo pauses midway and catches the other man’s eyes. He is smiling. “Will you please set another plate?” he adds bashfully. His tone is apprehensive, cautious, apologetic. “I have a friend staying over.”
A friend.
Of course-who else can the lump on the bed be, if the resident of the suite is standing at him in all his glory? Which gender group will today’s guest belong to, Kyungsoo wonders. He has seen the Rich Bastard with so many friends from both sexes so far, that it has become a routine. So many different people, so many different types, with no similarity whatsoever except that they look like they’re out of fashion magazines-beautiful, perfect, and definitely out of reach.
“I have finished the breakfast preparation, Mr. Kim. I will be back in an hour to clean up the table and deliver your newspapers and mail.” Kyungsoo says.
He waits for his client’s approval and turns around, not bothering to hide his much-lighter step. Walking past the bed, he sees the silhouette moves; rich cotton sheet slides down an immaculate body, revealing a pair of firm, supple breast that belong to a woman whose face is so familiar from media exposures. She gives Kyungsoo a look; taunting, proud.
“If you weren’t so poor, I’d sue you for sexual harassment.” She says, her voice contains no malice, but contemptuous nonetheless. “Move. Chop, chop!” she flicks her hand.
Kyungsoo blushes furiously, but for an entirely different reason than seeing her naked body. He mumbles his apology, bowing his back low, and scurries out of the room, out of the place where he clearly doesn’t belong.
On his way toward Suite 106, holding a tiny Bvlgari box in his hand, Kyungsoo wonders what’s inside the box. No, he isn’t the nosy type. He doesn’t need to, because Rich Bastard always opens every package that Kyungsoo delivers as soon as it reaches him. It’s as if he wants to flaunt whatever it is he just bought. It’s as if he’s afraid that Kyungsoo may have gotten the package tampered with. The smile on his face whenever Kyungsoo hands him his package feels like mockery.
So no, Kyungsoo isn’t curious about the contain itself. Rather, he’s curious because usually, Rich Bastard always gets his accessories from Chopard or Tiffany’s. It’s actually the first Bvlgari Kyungsoo has every delivered to him.
The client isn’t alone in his room when Kyungsoo arrived. With him is the guest from the night before last, the woman with round breast and attitude. She seems to have forgotten Kyungsoo and the accident, and Kyungsoo knows why. There seem to be a fight between them; Kyungsoo walks in in the middle of shouting, and he immediately regrets it.
She shots him a sharp look. “You’re not needed. Out.” She commands, but Rich bastard holds out his hand.
“You’re not the host. Don’t act like one.” He turns toward Kyungsoo, “The package please?” Kyungsoo nervously hands him the box, and quickly retreats. But before he even manages to leave, Rich Bastard stops him. He whispers at Kyungsoo desperately, “No, stay. I’ll need you.”
The box soon moves hand to the woman, who tears is open and takes out a golden chain studded with diamonds inside. “Are you buying me with this.”
“Isn’t it what you’ve been after?” Rich bastard snarls. “Now you can try to make a spectator out of this. But don’t blame anybody but yourself if the news about your outrage reaches the media.”
The statement sends the woman to silence. Kyungsoo feels slightly sorry for her. He doesn’t know the dynamic of their situation, but Rich Bastard seems to have some experience of sort in handling such matters, it doesn’t seem fair. She glares at both of them once again, before snatching his bag and tread out.
“Thank you for staying.”
Kyungsoo looks up and meets his client’s smile. “Excuse me?”
“She would have make a bigger scene if you weren’t here. You saved me from a lot of trouble.”
Kyungsoo nods. A moment later, he speaks up, “With all due respect, I will not speak about anything that I witness in the hotel’s premise, except to the management when it’s required. Our hotel has the strictest discretion policy-all of us stewards were required to sign a legal paper.”
Rich bastard’s face blanches, recalling his earlier statement, “no...Of course, I wasn’t trying to imply anything. I trust you-this hotel. That’s why I stay here of all places.” He sighs, and continues, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”
Kyungsoo bows slightly, “Thank you for your continuous patronage and trust.” He leaves out the part where he acknowledges the apology.
The daily dose of frequent deliveries is still becoming the most of Kyungsoo’s to-do list for Suite 106. If he puts aside his annoyance, Kyungsoo can actually see how lucky he is to deal with mere deliveries. Especially when he notices that his colleagues, other stewards that attend other suites, has to put up with more responsibilities like walking their clients’ pet dogs around The Lagoon (and cleaning their craps, of course), going out on errands (whereas Rich Bastard relies on deliveries), and some notable peculiar requests. In exchange, he’s one of the busiest stewards that spend most of their time in the Suite-which Kyungsoo doesn’t like because he finds having Rich Bastard around aggravates him for some reason.
Kyungsoo asks his supervisor, the hotel’s Maître’d, regarding the constancy of Rich Bastard’s stay at the hotel. It’s been more than a half a year since Kyungsoo attends to Suite 106, and the guest never has changed. He can’t help but wondering how someone spends half of the year renting a hotel room-though it’s a suite of whatever it is-when he’s obviously more than able to purchase a house or a serviced apartment downtown.
“He doesn’t want the hassle, I guess...” Junmyeon, the gentle-smiled Maître’d, replied. “He isn’t Korean, you know. Oh of course, he’s obviously Korean descent, but he was born and raised American.”
“Oh?” Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows, the fact hasn’t been known to him until now. It explains a few things, however, like how he’s so young but already gets his master’s degree. Unlike Kyungsoo, he doesn’t have to enroll to the 2-years military service.
Junmyeon nods, “Kim Jongin’s father owns a multinational company, and he is asked to handle the business here in Korea, a regional director, as a training before he takes over the entire empire.”
Well, Kyungsoo won’t have known. Kim Jongin-or Rich Bastard-really looks like he has too much time in hand to be someone who manages a region of business. Although he wakes up early, he still takes a couple of hours each morning to have a breakfast and read the newspaper. He always asks Kyungsoo to stay, even when there’s nothing much to do except to pass the salt or lay out the clothes (after a while, Kyungsoo is well rehearsed to Kim Jongin’s entire wardrobe collection).
One day, he’s bringing in the regular morning delivery to Suite 106. While laying down the plates, he can’t help noticing that the American breakfast set is prepared for two people. He looks around and sees no guest. Rich Bast-Kim Jongin, Junmyeon reprimanded him when he caught Kyungsoo calling the client with the nickname-seems to have stayed up all night to work that he couldn’t meet his friends.
He asks Kim Jongin when the client exits the bathroom, still in his bathrobe and toweling his damp hair, and Jongin smiles.
“Oh, that,” is that awkwardness that Kyungsoo sees? “I guess I forgot to order for just one serving. Why umm...would you like to join me, then?”
Kyungsoo deadpans; is this guy serious? “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to-”
“I don’t believe it.” Kim Jongin cuts him. For the first time ever, his tone is authoritative. But he seems to regret it a second later, reverting back to his usual smile. “I will take rejection, but only if it’s due to personal reason.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything. He just stands by the table, looking confused about the anomaly that happens in an otherwise regular morning. He’s a methodical person; he plans, creates a system according to the set routines, and reacts according to the expected response for a particular stimulus. But he hasn’t predicted the breakfast invitation, not anticipating it to ever occur.
“Look,” Kim Jongin says. “You don’t even have to eat. Just sit there, have a cup of coffee, and I promise I won’t bother you for anything until lunchtime.”
Upon such request, Kyungsoo finds himself unable to say ‘no’. After all, it’s his duty to do as the clients expect, and Kyungsoo is nothing but professional.
“I understand, Mr. Kim,” he takes a seat at the opposite of the small dining table.
“Jongin,”
Kyungsoo looks up and pauses midway of pouring coffee into both Kim Jongin’s and his cup. “Excuse me?”
“Would you please call me Jongin from now on? Afterall, I’m younger than you, Kyungsoo-hyung.”
Kyungsoo’s face reddens as a reaction toward the term of endearment. Although nothing special, it feels awfully personal to have a client-Kim Jongin at that-refers him that way. But it isn’t unpleasant as well. It maybe takes him some time to get used to, but Kyungsoo doesn’t feel half as bothered as he’s supposed to.
“Yes, Jongin.”
Come late summer, a month into the new set of routine in the mornings at Suite 106, Kyungsoo finds himself posted in The Lagoon most of the time. His aversion toward working at Suite 106 has long dissipated, together with the change of the dynamic between him and Jongin.
The series of daily deliveries is still there, if not more frequent due to the fact that Jongin has decided to work from his suite. One of the suite’s corners has been converted to an office, although Jongin much prefers to sit on the deck and enjoy the sun while he pores takes in to read the stack of contracts and negotiations.
One day, during an afternoon break where Jongin is taking a jog around the garden, they meet unexpectedly while Kyungsoo is working on his Advanced Actuary class. Jongin decidedly ends up his jog, and much to Kyungsoo’s embarrassment, joins him sitting on the bench at the furthest corner of the garden where no guests usually go.
“So...financial management, right?” Jongin asks, seemingly to take too much pleasure over the fact that Kyungsoo is a graduate student. “Where?”
“Yonsei.” Kyungsoo mumbles. “It’s my last semester before I take a financial manager certification test.”
“I wouldn’t have known.” Jongin frowns. “Hyung, you spends too much time attending to my need. When do you study?”
Kyungsoo shrugs, still in embarrassment for getting caught. “I manage. I admit I steal some time between tasks. Jongin-” Kyungsoo begins to realize the implication of having a client knowing his secret. He may lose his job, his only source of finance. “Please don’t tell the management. I promise I will put down my book-”
“What? No!” Jongin interrupts him; his raised voice catches Kyungsoo by surprise. “I mean...why would I? Hyung, by all means please bring your book to my suite. This is a critical time for you, right? I know it is, I remember how little I slept when I was working on my graduate thesis.”
It takes a while for Jongin’s words to sink in, but when the realization hits him, Kyungsoo finds himself unable to hold back his tears. “I...I can’t do that. It’s not fair for you...”
“Nonsense!” Jongin places his hands on Kyungsoo’s knee, an intimate gesture that nonetheless sends a jolt into Kyungsoo’s nerve. “I’m your client. I have the right to dictate on how you spend your time while you’re on duty. Bring your books in tomorrow. I will have no further discussion on this matter.”
Jongin replaces his hands and stands up; the lack of response from Kyungsoo just sets an awkward mood between them. “Well...I guess I’ll see you back at the suite.”
Jongin turns around, but before he leaves, he glances at Kyungsoo and mumbles something that sounds so much like ‘Good luck, hyung.’
The outdoor deck that faces the lagoon of Suite 106 turns into a battle room in no time. Both pool chairs become the workstations for Jongin and Kyungsoo, respectively. They spend hours in silence, each with their own concerns, except for when Kyungsoo has to attend to his tasks. But even then, Jongin’s requests have gotten lesser and lesser; the client has grown a habit to fetch his own needs. The fact is making Kyungsoo weary, but he really has no say when Jongin is being so adamant about it.
Kyungsoo makes a significant progress with his school, which makes him happier, which Jongdae can’t help but notice.
“Alright, what happened? Spill it,” he demands, when Kyungsoo appears to lunch almost skipping to their table.
“Nothing happens.” Kyungsoo shrugs.
“Rubbish. You’re working longer hours, spends extra time at the suite without clocking overtime, and your eye bags literally disappears like you just get Botox shot.” Jongdae rolls his eyes, “Spill, or we’re no longer friends.”
Kyungsoo sighs, and begins to explain carefully. It’s not that Kyungsoo is trying to keep the arrangement as a secret. Rather, knowing how imaginative his friend is, Kyungsoo is worried that Jongdae may read too much between the line-which is exactly what happens.
“Holy shit-that Kim Jongin? Kyungsoo, I hate to tell you this but he’s definitely trying to get into your pants.” Jongdae leans in, “No such things as free lunch, okay? Especially for rich bastards like him.”
“Jongin is not a bastard.” Kyungsoo glowers. “He’s okay. Well...a good man.”
“Oh shit...” Jongdae’s mouth forms a dramatic ‘o’, “You’re smitten. Shit, Kyungsoo...you should see yourself.”
“Will you stop?” Kyungsoo throws a punch toward his friend’s shoulder. “I’m not smitten!”
Jongdae, however, has set an unshaken opinion on the matter. He keeps rambling about chances, possibilities and speculations; some of which hit too close to home and in turn creating a rift in Kyungsoo’s mind.
Can Jongdae possibly be true?
“Hyung, wake up...hyung...”
Kyungsoo stirs, winces as pain attacks his neck and notices that he has fallen asleep in an unfortunate position over a stack of books. He blinks, it takes a while for him to adapt to the dimness in the room, and soon realizes that it’s night already.
“Oh my God...” he jumps up, the stack of books topples down from the dining table and falls upon his foot. “Ouch!”
“Hyung, take it easy!” Jongin tells him, his voice is laced with amusement as he holds Kyungsoo by the shoulder and keeps the older man from flailing around. He hands the older man a glass of water, which Kyungsoo accepts gratefully.
“What time is it?”
Jongin snickers. “Eleven.”
“Oh God...I’m so sorry! How about dinner?” Kyungsoo panics.
“It’s okay. I asks the delivery to bring it here.” Jongin lets go of him, “We may need to reheat the food, but I hope you don’t mind some Chinese takeout.”
“I-” Kyungsoo is at total loss of word. Never before has he been so unprofessional, and it shames him to no end. “Jongin, I’m sorry...”
“Nothing to apologize, really. Shall we eat now?” Jongin offers.
Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I better go now.”
“Why don’t you stay the night?” Jongin blurts.
Kyungsoo’s heart skips. Did Jongin just-
“I can’t, I have to go to campus early tomorrow.” He replies a little too quickly.
“All the more reason!” Jongin blushes at how excited he sounds, and looks away. “I mean...this place is close to your campus, and I can drive you tomorrow morning.”
“No...” Kyungsoo protests, the horror on his face makes it seem like the suggestion is equal to an appeal to a crime. “I can’t Jongin, I-”
“Yes, you can.” Jongin cuts him. His eyes turn gentle when he steps closer toward Kyungsoo, hesitantly, as if gauging Kyungsoo’s reaction. “Yes you can...and I want you to...”
They are standing only a foot apart, and Kyungsoo’s knees grow weak. “Jongin...” he whimpers.
“Please?” Jongin steps closer, still, his hand reaches out to stroke Kyungsoo’s cheek.
Kyungsoo knows what’s coming next; he knows how dangerous their position is, aware that he’s treading along the grey area. But Jongin’s eyes are medusa; commanding, spellbinding, lethal. The touch of his hand is so warm against his cheek, and Kyungsoo finds himself leaning in, despite what remains of his sanity.
Jongin leans down; the distance between their faces has become none. “Please...” He whispers, his lips graze against Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo knows that he’s so close to committing the biggest mistake in his life. He knows he risks everything in the decision that he’s going to take. His logic tells him to say no, urges him to turn around and run away and never to look back to that point of no return. But his instinct, the less calculative side of him that he has kept subdued for so long, yearns to be listened.
In the end he whispers, the reply rolls out of his tongue quicker than an impulse, “I’ll stay...”, and closes his eyes half a second prior to a kiss.
“...hyung.”
Kyungsoo stirs awake, opens his eyes to the sight of Jongin smiling down at him. The second thing that he notices is his state of nakedness-his chest bare with the sheet crumples around his waist.
“Wake up,” Jongin’s whispers.
Kyungsoo shoots right up, pulling the sheet to cover his torso; his immediate reaction earns Jongin’s mirth. “Hyung, please...I’ve seen everything anyway.”
Kyungsoo gurgles incoherently; his cheek feels hot upon recollection of what happened the night before. He tries to bury his face into the pillow, hiding his embarrassment away, but Jongin pries the pillow away.
“Don’t hide yourself. I wanna see you...”
Kyungsoo swallows; Jongin’s voice is husky, the same tone that he used to whisper into Kyungsoo’s ears the night before;
are you okay?
“W-what time is it?” He asks.
Jongin smiles, “enough for you to shower and join me for breakfast, before I drive you to your campus.”
Kyungsoo’s eyes widens in horror, especially as he glances toward the dining table and sees that breakfast is ready. “Jongin, you shouldn’t! It’s my job-”
“Shh!” Jongin silences him, “It’s your job to see that I have everything that I need. And I need to get ready and have breakfast with me. Don’t fret, ok?”
Kyungsoo nods absentmindedly. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, that he can’t care less to the fact that he peels the entire sheet with him to cover his body, the remaining length of the rich cotton trails on the floor behind him on his way to the bathroom. There’s so much of Kim Jongin that he has learned about, and so much more he has yet to find out.
It’s almost New Year; Christmas passed like a flash of colorful scene in a video art, and suddenly it’s winter vacation. Kyungsoo went through his finals-his last finals before he graduates-and feels happily positive about the results.
Kyungsoo doesn’t understand how feelings work. Not too long ago, he was so blasé-vexed, even-about spending time in Suite 106, with Jongin around. But now, as he walks along the street of Seoul with Jongin, his shoulder brushes the younger man’s upper arm, trying to make their way back to the hotel after a musical show, he can’t find any remaining trace of annoyance left in him. Jongin chats happily with smile frequent his face, while he listens with sincere interest and not the slightest hesitation to provide an occasional feedback.
Maybe he owes it to the amount of time they spends together.
Jongin stayed throughout the holiday; they spent the eve of Christmas together, huddling inside a blanket before the hearth inside Suite 106. Jongin bought a crate of vintage wine that were almost as old as both of them, most of which they finished as a prelude for a drunken all-night sex.
The sex.
Kyungsoo groans inwardly, cursing himself at how much he enjoys sleeping with Jongin. He’s by no mean inexperienced, but under Jongin’s touch, he turns into a virginal self that gets excited to every single thing that Jongin does to him.
Jongin is such a passionate lover; persistent, earnest, demanding. His mouth patiently coaxes Kyungsoo, slowly, until Kyungsoo opens up himself with much-built anticipation. Kyungsoo finds himself unable to resist to every single one of Jongin’s whim-not that he puts any resistance. He allows Jongin to dominate him completely, to take him however Jongin wants, because he knows that in the end, it will be him who begs for more.
With Jongin, Kyungsoo learns to know no shame. He learns that sometimes, it’s rewarding to live with no restrain. And in the end, Kyungoo knows that he’s gone too far past the point of no return.
Kyungsoo finds himself strangely excited over the thought of returning back to work after the Korean New Year break. It’s not so much about the work itself, he admits, but the fact that he’ll be seeing Jongin again. The younger man has been incessantly sending him texts and images throughout the days that they were apart. The captions that accompany the pictures always make him laugh.
‘Can’t pick a clothes to wear. What am I to do without you, Hyung... ㅠㅠ’ follows a picture where Jongin’s clothes are all laid on the bed, and Jongin himself was there, wearing unmatched suit, ties and shirt.
The texts come more frequently with each day that Kyungsoo is away, that in the end he decides to come back a day earlier. For the first time, he enters The Lagoon without a uniform, not as a steward but as a guest to the resident of Suite 106. He feels somewhat nervous as he approaches the Suite. Opening the door with a key card that Jongin had made for him to use, Kyungsoo is surprised.
Jongin is not alone. Sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace is a middle-aged lady, with the aura of regal and authority.
“Who is this?” She asks.
Jongin looks troubled; he’s clearly surprised to see that Kyungsoo is there. “Mom, this is Do Kyungsoo.” Jongin pauses, before he hesitantly adds, “he’s the steward of this Suite.”
The statement sends a mass into Kyungsoo’s chest, the realization sinks in him. “I apologize for my intrusion, Madam.”
Madam Kim stares at him. “Why are you not in your uniform? Is this how this place operates?”
“Mom, please-“ Jongin pleads, “It’s not like that-”
“I’m terribly sorry, Madam.” Kyungsoo cuts him. “I’m actually off duty right now, and I came to deliver something.”
He carefully approaches them, and places a box of sweet rice cakes he received from his mother for Jongin. He retreats quickly, and bows toward them.
“Please don’t allow my lack of decency to cloud your judgment over The Lagoon’s quality.” He says, all the while he tries to subdue the quiver in his voice. Inside the fold of his coat, his fingers clenches around the wool painfully tight. “Have a good day.”
“Hyung,” Jongin quickly stands up. “Wait-”
Kyungsoo pretends he doesn’t hear the call, and turns around. At the entryway, as he puts on his shoes Suite, he hears something that Jongin’s mother asks about why Jongin is calling him ‘Hyung’. He waits a second for a reply, and where he hears none, he closes the door behind his back.
It’s funny how, even amidst the ache and tears in the aftermath of the incident with Madam Kim, Kyungsoo still can’t bring himself to regret his decision to take the leap of faith with Jongin. After all, there’s nothing to regret; what happened with Jongin and him was beautiful, no matter how fleeting it was.
Jongin himself has treated him with much kindness Kyungsoo doesn’t know he deserves. Even though in the end Jongin had wavered about whatever feeling he has, Kyungsoo can’t blame him. Kyungsoo imagines, it’s not everyday that Jongin has to choose between telling your mother the truth that he’s sleeping with a glorified bellboy, or denying it. Jongin has so much to risk-his family and future-and Kyungsoo isn’t strong enough to take responsibility, should anything happened.
But still, it hurts. Having tasted the beauty of love-the lingering stares, intimate touches, the feeling of being completely naked in every sense with someone without feeling scared-only to realize how it ends so quick, too quick. Kyungsoo hasn’t even had the chance to tell Jongin how he feels.
When he comes to work the day after, eyes stings after hours of crying and the lack of sleep, he’s informed that Jongin has left Suite 106. By the time Kyungsoo finds out, he’s supposed to be somewhere over the Pacific, on a flight with Ney York as final destination. The young heir has requested the management to pack his belongings and send them to a certain storage space. The finality of the situation hits Kyungsoo harder than anything. But at the same time, it only adds up his determination.
At the end of his shift, he submits his resignation letter. Junmyeon accepts it regretfully, but he supports the decision for after Kyungsoo tells him that he will be applying to a wealth management firm. If he knows something about Jongin’s and Kyungsoo’s affair, he doesn’t say anything, which Kyungsoo feels grateful for.
All good things will eventually come to an end. Every parade, every shows, every acts and every masquerade, no matter how colorful and bright, are bound to the final bow.
It’s not easy to adjust to a completely new lifestyle, Kyungsoo notices. Wealth and comfort come with his new job, and soon he finds himself moving into a much better apartment near his workplace. He buys a small, fuel-conserving green car, some new clothes-woolen suits, silk ties, and leather shoes-but that’s the extent of it.
As someone who grew up in a humble household, he finds no pleasure in extravagance. He politely declines when his friends-a group of young, rich, and successful wealth managers-invites him to parties, gambling trips and a visit to the stripper clubs. To others, his life is probably boring. But that’s who he is, and that’s what he wants.
But still, he occasionally misses the sweet taste of decades-old wine, the fragrant smell of burnt hickory inside a granite hearth, and the softness of egg benedict from the famous deli that melts in his mouth. And mostly, he misses the person that allowed him to experience it all.
“Kyungsoo-ssi, someone is here to meet you. He’s waiting in the green room.”
Kyungsoo looks up and takes off his glasses, wondering. Green room is where the firm accepts their wealthiest clients; CEOs, politicians, and foundation owners. The partners usually handle big fishes like them, not him. No matter how good he is, Kyungsoo is but a second-year associate.
Curiously, he stands up and leaves his cubicle, adjusting his tie as he passes by a glass panel on his way to the power corner. As he reaches the green room, once again he raises his eyebrows in surprise. The meeting room’s curtains have been drawn close, which is very unlikely to happen, at least not during the period when Kyungsoo has worked at the firm. The massive glass window is there for a purpose; a token of good will toward the war against possible financial crimes like hedging, insider’s trading or money laundering. In turn, to assure client’s privacy, there is not a single camera installed inside the room.
“I apologize for the intrusion.” Kyungsoo greets, carefully stepping into the room. “I’m Do Kyungsoo.”
The room is empty safe for a man in tailored suit that is standing by the window, staring down at the view of Yeouido’s section of Han River Park. Upon Kyungsoo’s greeting, the man turns around, and Kyungsoo gasps.
He wears different hairstyle, carries different air, but the smile and everything else remains the same. Including the gentle voice that speaks to him. “I know, hyung. I asked to meet you, remember?”
Kyungsoo feels like the floor shakes beneath his feet. “J-jongin?” he stammers.
Jongin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out his hand, a silent request for Kyungsoo to come. “Come here, hyung. I want to see you…”
Kyungsoo is out of his head, completely relying on his instinct, as he absently walks toward Jongin, into his arms. His mind can’t begin to fathom the reality, not even when Jongin’s arms are wrapped around him, the younger man’s woody fragrance swirls inside his head.
“Why are you here?” he asks, the words come out muffled by the fabric of Jongin’s shirt.
“I’ve searched for you.” Jongin whispers, his voice is wet, “Why-why did you run away?”
“I didn’t. I thought you left me.”
Jongin’s embrace becomes tighter, heavier. The younger man sinks his face deeper into the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, and whisper, “I’m sorry…I was a coward. I’m sorry…”
He releases his embrace and leads them to the sofa. He kneels in front of Kyungsoo, clasping their hands together, eyes never look away.
“Have I told you that I was once a dancer?” Kyungsoo shakes his head, and he smiles. “Well I was, and I was good. I auditioned to Julliard, you know-that was the best art school in the US. But in the end, I didn’t even open the mail they sent me. I didn’t even know if I was accepted or not.”
“Why?”
Jongin smiles once again, “because I was scared. I was too scared of the possibility of failures, that no matter how hard I try, I’d still not gonna make it. So I took the safe route; I went to a business school, and worked under my father. It was fine at first, really. I was doing fine, I enjoy the luxury that my job provides me. But everything changes when I met you.”
Kyungsoo looks at him in doubt, “me?”
“Yes hyung, you.” Jongin chuckled. “Your devil-may-care attitude, how you treat me like you’re disgusted with my money-don’t say anything because I know how you felt.”
Kyungsoo blushes furiously upon remembering the amount of bad thought he used to have for Jongin.
“You got me curious, you know. Nothing worked against you; not a smile, not money, not even authority. Later, I knew it was because your mind was firmly set on your goal, that you didn’t allow anything else to bother you. I envy it, you know, your determination. It made me rethinking so many things...”
“Well…” Kyungsoo figdets, “in the end, I still got distracted.”
Jongin laughed, a mirth that Kyungsoo doesn’t know he misses, “I’m glad you did. Or else, I wouldn’t be here.”
It’s when Kyungsoo suddenly remembers something. “But…what about your mother? Your parents?”
Jongin’s smile dies. The spark in his eyes is gone, and his fingers tighten around Kyungsoo’s. “Hyung, listen-I…I may not have the right to ask, but will you give me a chance? I can’t promise you anything, to be honest. I’ll probably keep you in the dark for a while. I may even hurt you in the future. But I’ll stay with you through whatever end.”
Once again, his logic tells him to say no. His rational thought deems Jongin’s request to be irrational. But Kyungsoo has had enough with calculations. He has done enough statistics and probabilities with his job, that he yearns to just abandon it all together and just jump into a storm of uncertainty. After all, if there’s one thing that his current job teaches him is that sometimes, some risks are worth taking.
And just as he sinks his fingers inside Jongin’s hair, pulling him closer for a kiss, Kyungsoo remembers. Even though a performance ends, if the actors are putting their utmost efforts into their acting, there’s bound to be encores and curtain calls.
fin
ʚ Pairing(s): Jongin/Kyungsoo
ʚ Rating: PG-13
ʚ Warnings: N/A
ʚ Word Count: 6000
ʚ Summary: Kyungsoo enters Suite 106 to deliver things, and he leaves with a feeling of contempt, love, and everything else in between.
ʚ Message for your recipient/author note: Dear recipient, I’m sorry that the mailman in prompt turns into a hotel bellboy/butler somewhere along the way. But I tried my best to keep the essence of what I got from your prompt. I hope you enjoy it. Happy New Year!
Encore and Curtain Call
It’s Monday morning, seven-nineteen, and right after clocking in Kyungsoo knows that it’s going to be a long, hard day. In his assignment box he finds a slip that says ‘106-The Lagoon’. He sighs; the rich bastard is back in town to ruin his life. Not that his part time work in hospitality industry is generally easy. As a five-star hotel steward, Kyungsoo is subjected to a lot of ass kissing and self-restraint in daily basis. If it isn’t due to the good pay and generous tipping that has been providing significant contribution to his grad school tuition, Kyungsoo would have walked out of the door long time ago.
He snatches the slip and tucks it carefully inside his pocket. As much as he wants to burn the paper instead, he’s going to need it for monthly appraisal later. Stealing a glance into the wall mirror and making sure that his tie is straight, Kyungsoo is heading toward his post for the day.
“Morning Jongdae,” Kyungsoo taps on the front desk’s counter. “My pile, please?”
Jongdae, whose nametag says ‘Hospitality Officer’ but in reality is just an overpaid receptionist and a bouncer with manicured nails, looks up and grins. “You’re late. The bagel is getting cold.” He says, handing the steward his to-do list.
Kyungsoo rolls his eyes upon seeing the long list of things to do. He smiles resignedly, “Can’t help it. I had to study for tax accounting test last night.”
“Oh well, good luck then.” Jongdae frowns, pushing a universal access key toward his friend. “Wanna grab lunch together today?”
“We’ll see...” Kyungsoo says wistfully while swiping his access key to the electronic door. “Let’s just wish that Mr. Rich Bastard won’t be fretting much today.”
‘The Lagoon’ is a low-rise building deep within the hotel compound; secluded, private, and reek of wealth from the state-of-the-art eco friendly architecture, man-made lagoon that becomes the icon and namesake of the place, pseudo-tropical garden, 24-hour security and strict password access, and the number of imported sport cars that park in front of the building. It’s a quarter dedicated to the hotel’s wealthiest clients with extended stays.
Working at The Lagoon is the wish of all the hotel’s stewards due to its perks. Each day, they are only assigned to one suite, like a private butler, instead of serving a mass of clients. They do everything-from packing and unpacking the guests’ luggages, serving meals, preparing the bath, arranging flowers, or even giving back scrub if the guest so wishes it-except cleaning. The pay is good too; since the stewards who work there are subjected to higher standards, they receive bonus for each day they are posted there. Not to mention the tip, because really, rich people spare nothing for service excellence.
Kyungsoo has nothing against working at the The Lagoon. He enjoys it, in fact, because he gets to stay in a much emptier staff quarter during his idle periods, when he can steal time to look into his text books and coursework while waiting for his client to summon him for a task. But all the perks of working at The Lagoon don’t seem to worth it whenever he has to deal with Rich Bastard at 106.
It’s not that Rich Bastard is a jerk or something. Quite the opposite, he’s a well-mannered, handsome young man who tips well and has no record of treating Kyungsoo wrong. Except for the fact that he makes Kyungsoo his mailman slash courier slash errand boy for dozens of time each day, making Kyungsoo’s idle time gets shorter. Ever since he attends to Rich Bastard, Kyungsoo’s grade has been slipping; he found it harder to maintain his double merit. As a scholarship student, he can’t afford not to be on top. Throw in the fact that the Rich Bastard is younger than him, but already completed his graduate degree from an Ivy League university in US, as well as managing a company on his own -old money, not achieved-Kyungsoo couldn’t help but feeling a resentment toward him.
That, and the way Rich Bastard always stares openly at him whenever he’s around, like waiting for Kyungsoo to make even the smallest mistake.
The room was ajar when Kyungsoo walks in. Rich Bastard has not awoken yet. He saw a silhouette on the bed; long legs peek out from underneath the Egyptian cotton sheet. He tiptoes his way to the less private part of the suite-a dining quarter at the opposite of the bed, and unpacks the delivery.
The package inside the brown bag is from one of the best deli in town. It’s only the first among many that he has to deliver for the day. The Rich Bastard has grown a habit of making Kyungsoo a courier; intercepting deliveries from various premises-from Thom Browne’s boutique to the next-door patisserie-and brings it to Suite 106. A service that is actually unnecessary, really, because the hotel allows couriers to go into the hotel after a screening.
Alas, Rich Bastard always makes him do the tiny extra task, and Kyungsoo has no power to say otherwise.
Just when Kyungsoo places the neatly folded napkin on the table-for-two by the deck, he hears splashing sound of water. The Rich Bastard, nearly naked save for his tiny speedo, climbs up the private pool and notices him. He blushes and looks away, smoothing the nonexistent crease on the linen, and greets his client.
“G-good morning Mr. Kim. Your breakfast is ready.”
“Thank you. Could you hand me a bathrobe and pour me a glass of water first?”
The overly polite words that he uses always get on Kyungsoo’s nerve. Why can’t this man be normal and just treats him like a fixture like others?
“Of course.”
“Oh, and once more...”
Kyungsoo pauses midway and catches the other man’s eyes. He is smiling. “Will you please set another plate?” he adds bashfully. His tone is apprehensive, cautious, apologetic. “I have a friend staying over.”
A friend.
Of course-who else can the lump on the bed be, if the resident of the suite is standing at him in all his glory? Which gender group will today’s guest belong to, Kyungsoo wonders. He has seen the Rich Bastard with so many friends from both sexes so far, that it has become a routine. So many different people, so many different types, with no similarity whatsoever except that they look like they’re out of fashion magazines-beautiful, perfect, and definitely out of reach.
“I have finished the breakfast preparation, Mr. Kim. I will be back in an hour to clean up the table and deliver your newspapers and mail.” Kyungsoo says.
He waits for his client’s approval and turns around, not bothering to hide his much-lighter step. Walking past the bed, he sees the silhouette moves; rich cotton sheet slides down an immaculate body, revealing a pair of firm, supple breast that belong to a woman whose face is so familiar from media exposures. She gives Kyungsoo a look; taunting, proud.
“If you weren’t so poor, I’d sue you for sexual harassment.” She says, her voice contains no malice, but contemptuous nonetheless. “Move. Chop, chop!” she flicks her hand.
Kyungsoo blushes furiously, but for an entirely different reason than seeing her naked body. He mumbles his apology, bowing his back low, and scurries out of the room, out of the place where he clearly doesn’t belong.
On his way toward Suite 106, holding a tiny Bvlgari box in his hand, Kyungsoo wonders what’s inside the box. No, he isn’t the nosy type. He doesn’t need to, because Rich Bastard always opens every package that Kyungsoo delivers as soon as it reaches him. It’s as if he wants to flaunt whatever it is he just bought. It’s as if he’s afraid that Kyungsoo may have gotten the package tampered with. The smile on his face whenever Kyungsoo hands him his package feels like mockery.
So no, Kyungsoo isn’t curious about the contain itself. Rather, he’s curious because usually, Rich Bastard always gets his accessories from Chopard or Tiffany’s. It’s actually the first Bvlgari Kyungsoo has every delivered to him.
The client isn’t alone in his room when Kyungsoo arrived. With him is the guest from the night before last, the woman with round breast and attitude. She seems to have forgotten Kyungsoo and the accident, and Kyungsoo knows why. There seem to be a fight between them; Kyungsoo walks in in the middle of shouting, and he immediately regrets it.
She shots him a sharp look. “You’re not needed. Out.” She commands, but Rich bastard holds out his hand.
“You’re not the host. Don’t act like one.” He turns toward Kyungsoo, “The package please?” Kyungsoo nervously hands him the box, and quickly retreats. But before he even manages to leave, Rich Bastard stops him. He whispers at Kyungsoo desperately, “No, stay. I’ll need you.”
The box soon moves hand to the woman, who tears is open and takes out a golden chain studded with diamonds inside. “Are you buying me with this.”
“Isn’t it what you’ve been after?” Rich bastard snarls. “Now you can try to make a spectator out of this. But don’t blame anybody but yourself if the news about your outrage reaches the media.”
The statement sends the woman to silence. Kyungsoo feels slightly sorry for her. He doesn’t know the dynamic of their situation, but Rich Bastard seems to have some experience of sort in handling such matters, it doesn’t seem fair. She glares at both of them once again, before snatching his bag and tread out.
“Thank you for staying.”
Kyungsoo looks up and meets his client’s smile. “Excuse me?”
“She would have make a bigger scene if you weren’t here. You saved me from a lot of trouble.”
Kyungsoo nods. A moment later, he speaks up, “With all due respect, I will not speak about anything that I witness in the hotel’s premise, except to the management when it’s required. Our hotel has the strictest discretion policy-all of us stewards were required to sign a legal paper.”
Rich bastard’s face blanches, recalling his earlier statement, “no...Of course, I wasn’t trying to imply anything. I trust you-this hotel. That’s why I stay here of all places.” He sighs, and continues, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”
Kyungsoo bows slightly, “Thank you for your continuous patronage and trust.” He leaves out the part where he acknowledges the apology.
The daily dose of frequent deliveries is still becoming the most of Kyungsoo’s to-do list for Suite 106. If he puts aside his annoyance, Kyungsoo can actually see how lucky he is to deal with mere deliveries. Especially when he notices that his colleagues, other stewards that attend other suites, has to put up with more responsibilities like walking their clients’ pet dogs around The Lagoon (and cleaning their craps, of course), going out on errands (whereas Rich Bastard relies on deliveries), and some notable peculiar requests. In exchange, he’s one of the busiest stewards that spend most of their time in the Suite-which Kyungsoo doesn’t like because he finds having Rich Bastard around aggravates him for some reason.
Kyungsoo asks his supervisor, the hotel’s Maître’d, regarding the constancy of Rich Bastard’s stay at the hotel. It’s been more than a half a year since Kyungsoo attends to Suite 106, and the guest never has changed. He can’t help but wondering how someone spends half of the year renting a hotel room-though it’s a suite of whatever it is-when he’s obviously more than able to purchase a house or a serviced apartment downtown.
“He doesn’t want the hassle, I guess...” Junmyeon, the gentle-smiled Maître’d, replied. “He isn’t Korean, you know. Oh of course, he’s obviously Korean descent, but he was born and raised American.”
“Oh?” Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows, the fact hasn’t been known to him until now. It explains a few things, however, like how he’s so young but already gets his master’s degree. Unlike Kyungsoo, he doesn’t have to enroll to the 2-years military service.
Junmyeon nods, “Kim Jongin’s father owns a multinational company, and he is asked to handle the business here in Korea, a regional director, as a training before he takes over the entire empire.”
Well, Kyungsoo won’t have known. Kim Jongin-or Rich Bastard-really looks like he has too much time in hand to be someone who manages a region of business. Although he wakes up early, he still takes a couple of hours each morning to have a breakfast and read the newspaper. He always asks Kyungsoo to stay, even when there’s nothing much to do except to pass the salt or lay out the clothes (after a while, Kyungsoo is well rehearsed to Kim Jongin’s entire wardrobe collection).
One day, he’s bringing in the regular morning delivery to Suite 106. While laying down the plates, he can’t help noticing that the American breakfast set is prepared for two people. He looks around and sees no guest. Rich Bast-Kim Jongin, Junmyeon reprimanded him when he caught Kyungsoo calling the client with the nickname-seems to have stayed up all night to work that he couldn’t meet his friends.
He asks Kim Jongin when the client exits the bathroom, still in his bathrobe and toweling his damp hair, and Jongin smiles.
“Oh, that,” is that awkwardness that Kyungsoo sees? “I guess I forgot to order for just one serving. Why umm...would you like to join me, then?”
Kyungsoo deadpans; is this guy serious? “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to-”
“I don’t believe it.” Kim Jongin cuts him. For the first time ever, his tone is authoritative. But he seems to regret it a second later, reverting back to his usual smile. “I will take rejection, but only if it’s due to personal reason.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything. He just stands by the table, looking confused about the anomaly that happens in an otherwise regular morning. He’s a methodical person; he plans, creates a system according to the set routines, and reacts according to the expected response for a particular stimulus. But he hasn’t predicted the breakfast invitation, not anticipating it to ever occur.
“Look,” Kim Jongin says. “You don’t even have to eat. Just sit there, have a cup of coffee, and I promise I won’t bother you for anything until lunchtime.”
Upon such request, Kyungsoo finds himself unable to say ‘no’. After all, it’s his duty to do as the clients expect, and Kyungsoo is nothing but professional.
“I understand, Mr. Kim,” he takes a seat at the opposite of the small dining table.
“Jongin,”
Kyungsoo looks up and pauses midway of pouring coffee into both Kim Jongin’s and his cup. “Excuse me?”
“Would you please call me Jongin from now on? Afterall, I’m younger than you, Kyungsoo-hyung.”
Kyungsoo’s face reddens as a reaction toward the term of endearment. Although nothing special, it feels awfully personal to have a client-Kim Jongin at that-refers him that way. But it isn’t unpleasant as well. It maybe takes him some time to get used to, but Kyungsoo doesn’t feel half as bothered as he’s supposed to.
“Yes, Jongin.”
Come late summer, a month into the new set of routine in the mornings at Suite 106, Kyungsoo finds himself posted in The Lagoon most of the time. His aversion toward working at Suite 106 has long dissipated, together with the change of the dynamic between him and Jongin.
The series of daily deliveries is still there, if not more frequent due to the fact that Jongin has decided to work from his suite. One of the suite’s corners has been converted to an office, although Jongin much prefers to sit on the deck and enjoy the sun while he pores takes in to read the stack of contracts and negotiations.
One day, during an afternoon break where Jongin is taking a jog around the garden, they meet unexpectedly while Kyungsoo is working on his Advanced Actuary class. Jongin decidedly ends up his jog, and much to Kyungsoo’s embarrassment, joins him sitting on the bench at the furthest corner of the garden where no guests usually go.
“So...financial management, right?” Jongin asks, seemingly to take too much pleasure over the fact that Kyungsoo is a graduate student. “Where?”
“Yonsei.” Kyungsoo mumbles. “It’s my last semester before I take a financial manager certification test.”
“I wouldn’t have known.” Jongin frowns. “Hyung, you spends too much time attending to my need. When do you study?”
Kyungsoo shrugs, still in embarrassment for getting caught. “I manage. I admit I steal some time between tasks. Jongin-” Kyungsoo begins to realize the implication of having a client knowing his secret. He may lose his job, his only source of finance. “Please don’t tell the management. I promise I will put down my book-”
“What? No!” Jongin interrupts him; his raised voice catches Kyungsoo by surprise. “I mean...why would I? Hyung, by all means please bring your book to my suite. This is a critical time for you, right? I know it is, I remember how little I slept when I was working on my graduate thesis.”
It takes a while for Jongin’s words to sink in, but when the realization hits him, Kyungsoo finds himself unable to hold back his tears. “I...I can’t do that. It’s not fair for you...”
“Nonsense!” Jongin places his hands on Kyungsoo’s knee, an intimate gesture that nonetheless sends a jolt into Kyungsoo’s nerve. “I’m your client. I have the right to dictate on how you spend your time while you’re on duty. Bring your books in tomorrow. I will have no further discussion on this matter.”
Jongin replaces his hands and stands up; the lack of response from Kyungsoo just sets an awkward mood between them. “Well...I guess I’ll see you back at the suite.”
Jongin turns around, but before he leaves, he glances at Kyungsoo and mumbles something that sounds so much like ‘Good luck, hyung.’
The outdoor deck that faces the lagoon of Suite 106 turns into a battle room in no time. Both pool chairs become the workstations for Jongin and Kyungsoo, respectively. They spend hours in silence, each with their own concerns, except for when Kyungsoo has to attend to his tasks. But even then, Jongin’s requests have gotten lesser and lesser; the client has grown a habit to fetch his own needs. The fact is making Kyungsoo weary, but he really has no say when Jongin is being so adamant about it.
Kyungsoo makes a significant progress with his school, which makes him happier, which Jongdae can’t help but notice.
“Alright, what happened? Spill it,” he demands, when Kyungsoo appears to lunch almost skipping to their table.
“Nothing happens.” Kyungsoo shrugs.
“Rubbish. You’re working longer hours, spends extra time at the suite without clocking overtime, and your eye bags literally disappears like you just get Botox shot.” Jongdae rolls his eyes, “Spill, or we’re no longer friends.”
Kyungsoo sighs, and begins to explain carefully. It’s not that Kyungsoo is trying to keep the arrangement as a secret. Rather, knowing how imaginative his friend is, Kyungsoo is worried that Jongdae may read too much between the line-which is exactly what happens.
“Holy shit-that Kim Jongin? Kyungsoo, I hate to tell you this but he’s definitely trying to get into your pants.” Jongdae leans in, “No such things as free lunch, okay? Especially for rich bastards like him.”
“Jongin is not a bastard.” Kyungsoo glowers. “He’s okay. Well...a good man.”
“Oh shit...” Jongdae’s mouth forms a dramatic ‘o’, “You’re smitten. Shit, Kyungsoo...you should see yourself.”
“Will you stop?” Kyungsoo throws a punch toward his friend’s shoulder. “I’m not smitten!”
Jongdae, however, has set an unshaken opinion on the matter. He keeps rambling about chances, possibilities and speculations; some of which hit too close to home and in turn creating a rift in Kyungsoo’s mind.
Can Jongdae possibly be true?
“Hyung, wake up...hyung...”
Kyungsoo stirs, winces as pain attacks his neck and notices that he has fallen asleep in an unfortunate position over a stack of books. He blinks, it takes a while for him to adapt to the dimness in the room, and soon realizes that it’s night already.
“Oh my God...” he jumps up, the stack of books topples down from the dining table and falls upon his foot. “Ouch!”
“Hyung, take it easy!” Jongin tells him, his voice is laced with amusement as he holds Kyungsoo by the shoulder and keeps the older man from flailing around. He hands the older man a glass of water, which Kyungsoo accepts gratefully.
“What time is it?”
Jongin snickers. “Eleven.”
“Oh God...I’m so sorry! How about dinner?” Kyungsoo panics.
“It’s okay. I asks the delivery to bring it here.” Jongin lets go of him, “We may need to reheat the food, but I hope you don’t mind some Chinese takeout.”
“I-” Kyungsoo is at total loss of word. Never before has he been so unprofessional, and it shames him to no end. “Jongin, I’m sorry...”
“Nothing to apologize, really. Shall we eat now?” Jongin offers.
Kyungsoo shakes his head. “I better go now.”
“Why don’t you stay the night?” Jongin blurts.
Kyungsoo’s heart skips. Did Jongin just-
“I can’t, I have to go to campus early tomorrow.” He replies a little too quickly.
“All the more reason!” Jongin blushes at how excited he sounds, and looks away. “I mean...this place is close to your campus, and I can drive you tomorrow morning.”
“No...” Kyungsoo protests, the horror on his face makes it seem like the suggestion is equal to an appeal to a crime. “I can’t Jongin, I-”
“Yes, you can.” Jongin cuts him. His eyes turn gentle when he steps closer toward Kyungsoo, hesitantly, as if gauging Kyungsoo’s reaction. “Yes you can...and I want you to...”
They are standing only a foot apart, and Kyungsoo’s knees grow weak. “Jongin...” he whimpers.
“Please?” Jongin steps closer, still, his hand reaches out to stroke Kyungsoo’s cheek.
Kyungsoo knows what’s coming next; he knows how dangerous their position is, aware that he’s treading along the grey area. But Jongin’s eyes are medusa; commanding, spellbinding, lethal. The touch of his hand is so warm against his cheek, and Kyungsoo finds himself leaning in, despite what remains of his sanity.
Jongin leans down; the distance between their faces has become none. “Please...” He whispers, his lips graze against Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo knows that he’s so close to committing the biggest mistake in his life. He knows he risks everything in the decision that he’s going to take. His logic tells him to say no, urges him to turn around and run away and never to look back to that point of no return. But his instinct, the less calculative side of him that he has kept subdued for so long, yearns to be listened.
In the end he whispers, the reply rolls out of his tongue quicker than an impulse, “I’ll stay...”, and closes his eyes half a second prior to a kiss.
“...hyung.”
Kyungsoo stirs awake, opens his eyes to the sight of Jongin smiling down at him. The second thing that he notices is his state of nakedness-his chest bare with the sheet crumples around his waist.
“Wake up,” Jongin’s whispers.
Kyungsoo shoots right up, pulling the sheet to cover his torso; his immediate reaction earns Jongin’s mirth. “Hyung, please...I’ve seen everything anyway.”
Kyungsoo gurgles incoherently; his cheek feels hot upon recollection of what happened the night before. He tries to bury his face into the pillow, hiding his embarrassment away, but Jongin pries the pillow away.
“Don’t hide yourself. I wanna see you...”
Kyungsoo swallows; Jongin’s voice is husky, the same tone that he used to whisper into Kyungsoo’s ears the night before;
are you okay?
“W-what time is it?” He asks.
Jongin smiles, “enough for you to shower and join me for breakfast, before I drive you to your campus.”
Kyungsoo’s eyes widens in horror, especially as he glances toward the dining table and sees that breakfast is ready. “Jongin, you shouldn’t! It’s my job-”
“Shh!” Jongin silences him, “It’s your job to see that I have everything that I need. And I need to get ready and have breakfast with me. Don’t fret, ok?”
Kyungsoo nods absentmindedly. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, that he can’t care less to the fact that he peels the entire sheet with him to cover his body, the remaining length of the rich cotton trails on the floor behind him on his way to the bathroom. There’s so much of Kim Jongin that he has learned about, and so much more he has yet to find out.
It’s almost New Year; Christmas passed like a flash of colorful scene in a video art, and suddenly it’s winter vacation. Kyungsoo went through his finals-his last finals before he graduates-and feels happily positive about the results.
Kyungsoo doesn’t understand how feelings work. Not too long ago, he was so blasé-vexed, even-about spending time in Suite 106, with Jongin around. But now, as he walks along the street of Seoul with Jongin, his shoulder brushes the younger man’s upper arm, trying to make their way back to the hotel after a musical show, he can’t find any remaining trace of annoyance left in him. Jongin chats happily with smile frequent his face, while he listens with sincere interest and not the slightest hesitation to provide an occasional feedback.
Maybe he owes it to the amount of time they spends together.
Jongin stayed throughout the holiday; they spent the eve of Christmas together, huddling inside a blanket before the hearth inside Suite 106. Jongin bought a crate of vintage wine that were almost as old as both of them, most of which they finished as a prelude for a drunken all-night sex.
The sex.
Kyungsoo groans inwardly, cursing himself at how much he enjoys sleeping with Jongin. He’s by no mean inexperienced, but under Jongin’s touch, he turns into a virginal self that gets excited to every single thing that Jongin does to him.
Jongin is such a passionate lover; persistent, earnest, demanding. His mouth patiently coaxes Kyungsoo, slowly, until Kyungsoo opens up himself with much-built anticipation. Kyungsoo finds himself unable to resist to every single one of Jongin’s whim-not that he puts any resistance. He allows Jongin to dominate him completely, to take him however Jongin wants, because he knows that in the end, it will be him who begs for more.
With Jongin, Kyungsoo learns to know no shame. He learns that sometimes, it’s rewarding to live with no restrain. And in the end, Kyungoo knows that he’s gone too far past the point of no return.
Kyungsoo finds himself strangely excited over the thought of returning back to work after the Korean New Year break. It’s not so much about the work itself, he admits, but the fact that he’ll be seeing Jongin again. The younger man has been incessantly sending him texts and images throughout the days that they were apart. The captions that accompany the pictures always make him laugh.
‘Can’t pick a clothes to wear. What am I to do without you, Hyung... ㅠㅠ’ follows a picture where Jongin’s clothes are all laid on the bed, and Jongin himself was there, wearing unmatched suit, ties and shirt.
The texts come more frequently with each day that Kyungsoo is away, that in the end he decides to come back a day earlier. For the first time, he enters The Lagoon without a uniform, not as a steward but as a guest to the resident of Suite 106. He feels somewhat nervous as he approaches the Suite. Opening the door with a key card that Jongin had made for him to use, Kyungsoo is surprised.
Jongin is not alone. Sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace is a middle-aged lady, with the aura of regal and authority.
“Who is this?” She asks.
Jongin looks troubled; he’s clearly surprised to see that Kyungsoo is there. “Mom, this is Do Kyungsoo.” Jongin pauses, before he hesitantly adds, “he’s the steward of this Suite.”
The statement sends a mass into Kyungsoo’s chest, the realization sinks in him. “I apologize for my intrusion, Madam.”
Madam Kim stares at him. “Why are you not in your uniform? Is this how this place operates?”
“Mom, please-“ Jongin pleads, “It’s not like that-”
“I’m terribly sorry, Madam.” Kyungsoo cuts him. “I’m actually off duty right now, and I came to deliver something.”
He carefully approaches them, and places a box of sweet rice cakes he received from his mother for Jongin. He retreats quickly, and bows toward them.
“Please don’t allow my lack of decency to cloud your judgment over The Lagoon’s quality.” He says, all the while he tries to subdue the quiver in his voice. Inside the fold of his coat, his fingers clenches around the wool painfully tight. “Have a good day.”
“Hyung,” Jongin quickly stands up. “Wait-”
Kyungsoo pretends he doesn’t hear the call, and turns around. At the entryway, as he puts on his shoes Suite, he hears something that Jongin’s mother asks about why Jongin is calling him ‘Hyung’. He waits a second for a reply, and where he hears none, he closes the door behind his back.
It’s funny how, even amidst the ache and tears in the aftermath of the incident with Madam Kim, Kyungsoo still can’t bring himself to regret his decision to take the leap of faith with Jongin. After all, there’s nothing to regret; what happened with Jongin and him was beautiful, no matter how fleeting it was.
Jongin himself has treated him with much kindness Kyungsoo doesn’t know he deserves. Even though in the end Jongin had wavered about whatever feeling he has, Kyungsoo can’t blame him. Kyungsoo imagines, it’s not everyday that Jongin has to choose between telling your mother the truth that he’s sleeping with a glorified bellboy, or denying it. Jongin has so much to risk-his family and future-and Kyungsoo isn’t strong enough to take responsibility, should anything happened.
But still, it hurts. Having tasted the beauty of love-the lingering stares, intimate touches, the feeling of being completely naked in every sense with someone without feeling scared-only to realize how it ends so quick, too quick. Kyungsoo hasn’t even had the chance to tell Jongin how he feels.
When he comes to work the day after, eyes stings after hours of crying and the lack of sleep, he’s informed that Jongin has left Suite 106. By the time Kyungsoo finds out, he’s supposed to be somewhere over the Pacific, on a flight with Ney York as final destination. The young heir has requested the management to pack his belongings and send them to a certain storage space. The finality of the situation hits Kyungsoo harder than anything. But at the same time, it only adds up his determination.
At the end of his shift, he submits his resignation letter. Junmyeon accepts it regretfully, but he supports the decision for after Kyungsoo tells him that he will be applying to a wealth management firm. If he knows something about Jongin’s and Kyungsoo’s affair, he doesn’t say anything, which Kyungsoo feels grateful for.
All good things will eventually come to an end. Every parade, every shows, every acts and every masquerade, no matter how colorful and bright, are bound to the final bow.
It’s not easy to adjust to a completely new lifestyle, Kyungsoo notices. Wealth and comfort come with his new job, and soon he finds himself moving into a much better apartment near his workplace. He buys a small, fuel-conserving green car, some new clothes-woolen suits, silk ties, and leather shoes-but that’s the extent of it.
As someone who grew up in a humble household, he finds no pleasure in extravagance. He politely declines when his friends-a group of young, rich, and successful wealth managers-invites him to parties, gambling trips and a visit to the stripper clubs. To others, his life is probably boring. But that’s who he is, and that’s what he wants.
But still, he occasionally misses the sweet taste of decades-old wine, the fragrant smell of burnt hickory inside a granite hearth, and the softness of egg benedict from the famous deli that melts in his mouth. And mostly, he misses the person that allowed him to experience it all.
“Kyungsoo-ssi, someone is here to meet you. He’s waiting in the green room.”
Kyungsoo looks up and takes off his glasses, wondering. Green room is where the firm accepts their wealthiest clients; CEOs, politicians, and foundation owners. The partners usually handle big fishes like them, not him. No matter how good he is, Kyungsoo is but a second-year associate.
Curiously, he stands up and leaves his cubicle, adjusting his tie as he passes by a glass panel on his way to the power corner. As he reaches the green room, once again he raises his eyebrows in surprise. The meeting room’s curtains have been drawn close, which is very unlikely to happen, at least not during the period when Kyungsoo has worked at the firm. The massive glass window is there for a purpose; a token of good will toward the war against possible financial crimes like hedging, insider’s trading or money laundering. In turn, to assure client’s privacy, there is not a single camera installed inside the room.
“I apologize for the intrusion.” Kyungsoo greets, carefully stepping into the room. “I’m Do Kyungsoo.”
The room is empty safe for a man in tailored suit that is standing by the window, staring down at the view of Yeouido’s section of Han River Park. Upon Kyungsoo’s greeting, the man turns around, and Kyungsoo gasps.
He wears different hairstyle, carries different air, but the smile and everything else remains the same. Including the gentle voice that speaks to him. “I know, hyung. I asked to meet you, remember?”
Kyungsoo feels like the floor shakes beneath his feet. “J-jongin?” he stammers.
Jongin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out his hand, a silent request for Kyungsoo to come. “Come here, hyung. I want to see you…”
Kyungsoo is out of his head, completely relying on his instinct, as he absently walks toward Jongin, into his arms. His mind can’t begin to fathom the reality, not even when Jongin’s arms are wrapped around him, the younger man’s woody fragrance swirls inside his head.
“Why are you here?” he asks, the words come out muffled by the fabric of Jongin’s shirt.
“I’ve searched for you.” Jongin whispers, his voice is wet, “Why-why did you run away?”
“I didn’t. I thought you left me.”
Jongin’s embrace becomes tighter, heavier. The younger man sinks his face deeper into the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, and whisper, “I’m sorry…I was a coward. I’m sorry…”
He releases his embrace and leads them to the sofa. He kneels in front of Kyungsoo, clasping their hands together, eyes never look away.
“Have I told you that I was once a dancer?” Kyungsoo shakes his head, and he smiles. “Well I was, and I was good. I auditioned to Julliard, you know-that was the best art school in the US. But in the end, I didn’t even open the mail they sent me. I didn’t even know if I was accepted or not.”
“Why?”
Jongin smiles once again, “because I was scared. I was too scared of the possibility of failures, that no matter how hard I try, I’d still not gonna make it. So I took the safe route; I went to a business school, and worked under my father. It was fine at first, really. I was doing fine, I enjoy the luxury that my job provides me. But everything changes when I met you.”
Kyungsoo looks at him in doubt, “me?”
“Yes hyung, you.” Jongin chuckled. “Your devil-may-care attitude, how you treat me like you’re disgusted with my money-don’t say anything because I know how you felt.”
Kyungsoo blushes furiously upon remembering the amount of bad thought he used to have for Jongin.
“You got me curious, you know. Nothing worked against you; not a smile, not money, not even authority. Later, I knew it was because your mind was firmly set on your goal, that you didn’t allow anything else to bother you. I envy it, you know, your determination. It made me rethinking so many things...”
“Well…” Kyungsoo figdets, “in the end, I still got distracted.”
Jongin laughed, a mirth that Kyungsoo doesn’t know he misses, “I’m glad you did. Or else, I wouldn’t be here.”
It’s when Kyungsoo suddenly remembers something. “But…what about your mother? Your parents?”
Jongin’s smile dies. The spark in his eyes is gone, and his fingers tighten around Kyungsoo’s. “Hyung, listen-I…I may not have the right to ask, but will you give me a chance? I can’t promise you anything, to be honest. I’ll probably keep you in the dark for a while. I may even hurt you in the future. But I’ll stay with you through whatever end.”
Once again, his logic tells him to say no. His rational thought deems Jongin’s request to be irrational. But Kyungsoo has had enough with calculations. He has done enough statistics and probabilities with his job, that he yearns to just abandon it all together and just jump into a storm of uncertainty. After all, if there’s one thing that his current job teaches him is that sometimes, some risks are worth taking.
And just as he sinks his fingers inside Jongin’s hair, pulling him closer for a kiss, Kyungsoo remembers. Even though a performance ends, if the actors are putting their utmost efforts into their acting, there’s bound to be encores and curtain calls.
fin