#27: Speedtrap
Jan. 10th, 2017 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sweetestjonginTitle: Speedtrap
Pairing(s): Kai/Sehun
Rating: PG-13
Length: 8k
Summary: Arranged marriages in the 21st century are absurd though not unheard of among packs, but Jongin has no place to talk when he’s involved in one—with his one-night stand, no less.
Author's Note: Dear prompter, the possibilities I saw in your prompt came together and created an entire universe that spiraled beyond my control. This is but a glimpse of said universe as real life has unfortunately been unkind to me on the writing front, but I will post the complete fic when it is ready. Until then, I can only cross my fingers this is to your liking!
“Who is that?”
Jongin couldn’t take his eyes away from the lone kart zipping down the track in lightning speed, the roar of the engine permeating the air and growing faint as it drove further away. He held his breath every time the kart approached turns and corners and only exhaled once it passed through without a hitch. The skill and finesse the driver possessed Jongin only saw in the most seasoned drivers. For a brief moment, he wondered if the driver belonged to any of the kart racing teams he saw on his occasional weekend Paju trips.
“You don’t see many drivers of his caliber come here often,” Mr. Ha, one of the circuit’s oldest employees, remarked beside Jongin. He jutted his chin toward the kart driver. “That lad created a commotion on his first visit; defeated our fastest and most seasoned employees in a friendly race. Not too surprising, given his background. An honor to always have him returning here, to be honest.”
Jongin’s gaze skittered back to the track. In his years of go-karting at Paju Speedpark, he’d come to know Mr. Ha as selective in doling out praises. This driver definitely left a lasting impression on Mr. Ha if he was saying those words, which, in turn, piqued his interest considerably.
His subsequent visits attested to it.
Jongin would know when this mysterious driver was around. Aside from the noticeably livelier mood in the circuit and Mr. Ha assigning another employee to cover for him on those important ten minutes, the mysterious driver only rode the kart with the number ‘94’ painted on it. Mr. Ha personally saw to this kart’s maintenance, making sure the tires were always changed and the engine in topnotch condition.
Watching a kart complete its first lap always incited an exhilarating rush: the slow entrance into the track, the gradual acceleration midway, the challenge of maintaining momentum even with the turns and corners. It lost its appeal after the second or third lap, but Jongin found the standard ten minutes too short for his liking every time he watched the mysterious driver do his rounds around the track. Intrigued, too, that he’d never seen the driver’s face once, even on his returns. The opportunity was always snatched away from Jongin, either by an important phone call or the employees ushering him to his chosen kart if it was his turn next. By the time he could take a look, the mysterious driver had already disappeared.
It shouldn’t frustrate him, but when the circuit was small enough you could run into the same people no matter where you turned, Jongin couldn’t help feeling so. Though instead of lingering in the irritation, he’d bounce back from it and hope for a different outcome on the next visit.
Like this time, as he counted down the seconds until the ten minutes was up and might finally, finally—
Fingers dug into his sides without warning, yelping as it stabbed his ticklish spots. The evil cackling following had Jongin whirling around to meet Taemin’s unrepentant grin. Behind him stood Moonkyu, who shot Taemin an exasperated look despite being already used to his antics.
“You—!” Jongin feigned annoyance by slapping Taemin on the shoulder, pretense crumbling as he ended up laughing, anyway.
“Sorry, did you wait long? Traffic was a bit bad when we were leaving Seoul,” Moonkyu said.
“What’s got you so worked up? Were you doing something inappropriate?” Taemin teased. He snuck a look beyond Jongin’s shoulder, eyes immediately lighting up in mischief. “Ah, so you’ve been watching him again—the object of your affection in the past month.”
Jongin huffed, cursing inwardly at the heat seeping into his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Taemin turned Jongin around so he was facing the track again and swung an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah, sure; just close your mouth while watching or you’ll choke on a fly.”
“Gross.” Jongin tried shrugging him off in feigned petulance, betrayed by the chuckle that left him.
Taemin’s interest in go-karting was infectious. Two months after trying it for himself, he influenced Moonkyu, and then ultimately converted Jongin. Now, it was one of their bonding activities after not seeing each other for a long time due to their jobs and, as Taemin taught Jongin, a way for him to spend the pent-up, excess energy brought about by full moons. They tried all the go-kart circuits in the country, and while Jongin didn’t really care much for specifics, they agreed that Paju Speedpark was their favorite.
The sound of a rumbling engine drawing close interrupted his thoughts. Jongin spotted the kart immediately slowing to a halt by the tent, Mr. Ha and several other employees welcoming it back with cheers and claps like it competed in a legit race. Jongin watched the mysterious driver kill the engine and climb out of the kart, eyes roaming over his broad shoulders, the equally broad back that tapered to a narrow waist. His height and posture radiated the vibe of a model, but with the way he carried himself, Jongin didn’t doubt he probably was.
“Oh, man, look at that ass,” Taemin commented bluntly, reminding Jongin of his presence. “Is that why you keep checking him out?”
Jongin could only laugh helplessly in his surprise. He awarded Taemin a whack on the arm after recovering. “Shut up.”
“Hey, guys, it’s our turn,” Moonkyu told them, already heading toward the employee waving them over.
Jongin planted his feet firmly on the ground when Taemin tried steering him away. It was a struggle, one that Jongin lost when Taemin cheated by tickling his side and his knees buckled.
“Honestly, wait a minute! Let me just see what he looks like—”
Jongin escaped from Taemin’s hold, but the mystery driver had already disappeared.
Jongin’s lips twitched from the effort of stopping a smile while feeding one paper after another to the shredder.
If anything, he was partially at fault for not reading the e-mail properly and jumped right ahead to printing the attachment. The fact it came from a trusted relative didn’t raise any doubts, though the further he read into the five-page document containing alleged alternative methods on shifting, the lower his eyebrows pulled downward. He lasted two pages before deciding the dross unbearable, then made a mental note to inform his relative that no, he wouldn’t conduct a livestock sacrifice to invoke some unknown deity for the sake of curing a long-time problem.
He understood his relative’s intentions. They meant no malice or harm, even if the methods they sent him were probably lifted from some bogus website and sold off as tried and tested fact. Jongin was no stranger to spending countless hours browsing less traversed corners of the internet in search of a solution himself in his years growing up, especially when his parents brought in the best Healers from around the world but failed in finding the root cause of his shifting trouble. His family and most trusted friends never stopped searching for answers, informing him right away if they encountered anything useful. Out of curiosity and with a grateful heart, Jongin would try, though he emerged from them with heightening disappointment and dwindling eagerness.
Jongin had long accepted his fate as the first from their lineage who would never know what his wolf form looked like. He just wouldn’t voice it aloud for the sake of saving face—more for his family than his own.
After shredding the last paper, Jongin settled on his work desk and opened his word processor. The document loaded and a bulleted list of various synopses came into view. Beneath an item were two or more additional bullet points containing questions and comments by his editor. Jongin scrolled down to item number six and couldn’t help smiling at the entire section highlighted in the most obnoxious shade of neon green: his editor’s way of declaring what he should write next, which hadn’t changed despite the other plots he added yesterday.
Jongin sat back in his chair and tented his fingers together. Item number six wasn’t his favorite, but it was the first to paint the most vivid picture in his head. Words came automatic as the scene played out, and soon he was spilling them onto a new document.
Two thousand words into the scene before the front door beeped and unlocked. Jongin didn’t stop typing, eyes remaining glued to the screen. Whiffs of pancake batter and cinnamon tickled his nose, inciting a flood of warmth within akin to the early morning sun.
“Kim Jongin, your favorite brother in the whole wide world has arrived!” the loud, boisterous voice of Kim Jongdae echoed in his study upon entrance, strong presence and wide grin impossible to ignore. In just a few strides, he now stood by his chair and cuddled Jongin close to his chest. “Did you misplace your phone again? I told you I was visiting, you rascal!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Jongin said between small laughs, twisting himself out of Jongdae’s hold and eventually giving him a proper hug. “You know what I’m like when I’m working. What brings you here? Not that I dislike it. You’re a busy man yourself.”
Jongdae wagged a finger in the air as if to chide. “I am never too busy for family, especially when it’s you, baby brother.”
Jongin scrunched up his nose at the nickname, earning himself a laugh and a playful hair tousle. “I’m your brother but certainly not a baby anymore,” he protested.
“I don’t care what you say—you’ll always be my baby brother. You like being called that, anyway. How are you? Got a new project already?”
“Not really. Just free writing a random scene I couldn’t stop thinking about.” Jongin raised his nose in the air. Inhaled deeply.” Is that chicken I smell?”
“Your one and only favorite chicken,” Jongdae affirmed.
Jongin didn’t realize he was famished until his teeth sunk into the chicken breast and devoured it in less than a minute. Jongdae bought them two buckets of chicken each so there would be no shortage or sharing problem reminiscent of their childhood dining misadventures in which they always fought over the last drumstick. Though Jongdae won most battles, he would make up for the loss by willingly giving Jongin extra two pieces the next time they ate out for chicken. The fights decreased over time as they both grew up and away from home, but Jongdae never grew out of placing two chicken pieces on his plate even without being prompted.
Jongin licked his fingers clean from the sinful chicken grease. Caught the pensiveness on Jongdae’s face as he gathered the stray bones and tossed them into the now empty buckets.
“Is something wrong, hyung?”
Jongdae looked up at him, not saying a word until the last bone had been disposed of. His uncharacteristic silence confused Jongin but also set off an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now about the Oh family’s only son returning to the country.”
The tight knot in his stomach uncoiled, but Jongin couldn’t stop himself from huffing out in mild annoyance. This was the first thing their parents told him when he met them for dinner the week before, killing his appetite single-handedly not even the array of aperitifs offered could salvage.
“Let me guess: they sent you to persuade me into agreeing on a meeting with the Oh family?”
“Wow. Your enthusiasm is so compelling,” Jongdae deadpanned, a wry smile crossing his face.
Jongin squeezed his eyes shut, sensing a faint throbbing in his temples. “Can you blame me when this—this arrangement”—he spat the word as if venomous—“was formed on the grounds of an age-old truce when I was just barely two months old?”
Jongdae’s expression softened. “It’s not uncommon for noble wolf families to select their children’s promised mate. In this case, it was a way to ensure the truce is honored until the leadership changed hands.”
Jongin pressed his lips together and looked away.
A thousand years before his time, the Kim and Oh families were locked in a longstanding rivalry of who should reign supreme in Seoul. Nobody could pinpoint which family settled first or which side started stealing territories already owned by the rival family. What was clear was that the territorial disputes raged on for decades and almost showed no signs of stopping until a fateful turnabout forced both families to cooperate and, ultimately, call a truce.
A truce required certain conditions to be met and honored before it was recognized as valid. Jongin’s grandfather, the Alpha Supreme of their pack at the time, agreed on a permanent truce by marriage. Each family would take over twelve of the twenty-five districts in Seoul, with Yongsan as the sole free land and neutral zone. Unlike the turbulent period prior to the truce, wolves from both packs could now travel freely in and out of any district as they wished and shouldn’t be attacked or driven away.
Jongin knew little about his promised mate. The only thing his parents shared about him was that he was born in Seoul but grew up overseas. His grandfather was relatively more generous in dispensing details but couldn’t satiate his curiosity. His grandfather told him his promised mate shared the same birth year, albeit younger than him by three months. His promised mate presented as alpha during puberty and, as the only son, automatically hailed alpha apparent. His promised mate was able to shift as early as thirteen, something Jongin was envious about but also irrationally disliked him for.
Regardless, Jongin felt neither attachment to nor interest in his promised mate. Hearing about him was like coming across a fact list you’d read in one sitting, be amazed or appalled at your discoveries, then forget about it the next day.
“If you really don’t want to go, I’ll just tell Mom and Dad the truth,” Jongdae said, cutting through Jongin’s thoughts. “I’ll tell them you’re not ready and buy you time.”
“Can’t you tell them to delay it forever?” Jongin whined, though he knew it was futile.
“Don’t be ridiculous now,” Jongdae chastised, sans real heat. “Think of it this way: meeting your promised mate doesn’t mean you’ll go through a mating ceremony right away. You’ll have to go through the courtship period.”
“Nothing is guaranteed during courtship periods,” Jongin countered. “It’s so easy to show a polished version of yourself and fall into the trap, only to find out they’re secretly an asshole when it’s too late.”
“True,” Jongdae acquiesced, “but that’s what our wolf is for. They can sense things our human senses and sensibilities fail to pick up on. One could argue that our wolves can be unreliable because logic can be overridden by instincts, but it’s what saves us during dire situations.”
Jongin chewed on his bottom lip. “What if my wolf doesn’t like him?”
Silence stretched between them in the seconds following his question.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Jongdae answered, quiet but serious. “Worst case scenario would be a forced mating happens, but like hell we’re gonna allow that to happen to you.”
Jongin held no initial expectations when he dropped by Jamsil Kart for a go-kart session.
Yet standing by the sidelines watching a red kart speed down the circuit in a style Jongin recognized all too well as it outraced the employees driving against it gave him a certain sense of déjà vu.
After a meeting with his editor in COEX for a thorough discussion plan of his next book, Jongin dropped by the circuit to get rid of the extra energy hanging heavy on his limbs. Three days since the full moon passed, but a residual restlessness remained. His run in the woods together with his brothers helped him shed off a considerable amount, but he took it as a consequence running in his human form.
Full moon runs were most satisfying in wolf forms: this was what he kept hearing from his brothers and vouched for by the passing comments from pack members. He couldn’t tell for himself but took their word for it. While others enjoyed the luxury of a satisfying run on all fours, Jongin looked for other ways to appease his wolf’s restlessness, apologetic he couldn’t let him out and frustrated at his inability to do so.
Nobody questioned why Jongin participated in full moons runs in his human form. He was certain this was a topic of speculation and hearsay among pack members behind his back, but Junmyeon let slip on purpose that Jongin was reserving the showing of his wolf form for his promised mate. Like magic, gossip ceased at once. No one dared challenge a statement coming from any of the Alpha Supreme’s children.
It wasn’t entirely untrue, either. Noble wolf families strictly observed old-world traditions above everything else. Alphas, betas, and omegas born into them only showed their shifted forms to family and promised mates, if they had one, before revealing it to the world. As a precaution, Jongin would only run with his brothers to avoid unnecessary inquiries. He could handle his own if he ran with the pack members; he just chose to avoid inviting unwanted attention to himself.
“Old man Ha was right.”
Jongin snapped out of his reverie at the sudden comment.
Mr. Cho, Jamsil Kart’s manager, had his eyes trained on the go-kart leading the race—the one with a painted ’94,’ to Jongin’s non-surprise. “I didn’t believe old man Ha when he told me a devil appeared in Paju, but watching this boy stresses me out.” His sudden shout of surprise had Jongin jumping in place when said boy overtook two of the employees’ karts. “Damn—if that wasn’t the smoothest overtake I’ve seen! He sure as hell knows what he’s doing!”
Jongin returned his attention to the track. So it seemed Go-Kart Devil (as he would temporarily label him) raised hell in the circuits he set foot in, possessed driving skills that warranted praise from the likes of a notoriously-stingy Mr. Ha and even Mr. Cho, but he still had no idea what he looked like. He deemed it ridiculous, considering two months of passing each other by in Paju Speedpark should’ve thrown him opportunities for a glimpse, but the door to it remained annoyingly shut.
“Mr. Cho, this might seem like a silly question, but—“
“He’s coming, he’s coming! Almost forgot he only had ten minutes.” Mr. Cho sprinted toward the kart pulling up a few feet away, leaving Jongin behind with his arm awkwardly raised mid-air in a failed attempt at stopping him.
The arm gradually dropped to his side in the same way the next events unfolded in slow motion.
Go-Kart Devil climbed off the kart, jeans clinging tight to his long legs they almost looked painted on. The same broad shoulders and narrow waist donned in a flannel shirt in muted tones of earth and sea. One, two, three seconds before his hands came up to remove the helmet and—
Oh.
Short, bleached blond hair. Impressive eyebrows not of the same shade. A sharp nose and sharper facial features. His eyes were dark, piercing; a sea of many secrets Jongin wanted to take apart one by one, the pair of them catching and holding his gaze.
Jongin had seen his share of attractive people in his life, but none of them compared to this man who walked like it was his personal mission to take names and break hearts with a single glance.
Go-Kart Devil maintained eye contact for a bit longer—inquisitive, intrigued—before breaking it and striding toward Mr. Cho in a pace similar to runway models with their poise and straightened backs.
“I’d like another ten minutes, Mr. Cho,” he said, words coming out in a lazy drawl.
Jongin also noticed the faintest trace of an accent in the otherwise perfect Korean and distracting huskiness of his voice, heightening his curiosity all the more.
“Sure thing, m’boy!” Mr. Cho agreed, ushering him to the booth for the transaction. “Will you use the same kart, or will you be using another one?”
“The same kart, please.”
Go-Kart Devil nodded at something Mr. Cho said. Then, like he’d forgotten something, he whipped his head around again and snatched Jongin’s attention one last time before walking away—but not without flashing him a smile.
Not the teasing or taunting kind, but one that spoke of promise that stayed imprinted in Jongin’s memory, guaranteeing he wasn’t about to forget the moment anytime soon.
The proof of his words happened a week after the encounter, torn between laughing in disbelief or crying at this development after he woke up with his boxers damp front and back from an intense dream centered on dark eyes and teasing smiles.
Jongin shimmied out of his soiled boxers once he rolled out of bed, talking himself into believing this was caused by the remaining energy brought about by the full moon he had yet to clear from his body and not because he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was no stranger to wet dreams, but he deemed it outrageous how their most fleeting moment served as a powerful enough catalyst to trigger sensual fantasies. It was alarming, to say the least—he found Go-Kart Devil gorgeous, but they were technically still just strangers to each other, and Jongin might never be acquainted with him on a personal level.
He repeated this to himself as he cruised through his day answering e-mails and continuing the draft he’d started, only interrupted by phone calls from his editor and inquiries about his next book signing. By the time he finished two chapters, the sun had already disappeared from the sky, and his stomach grumbled in demand for food.
“What’s got you so distracted?” A cool, light voice entered Jongin’s ears, hearing it loud and clear despite the overpowering music filtering in through the club.
Jongin blinked at his eldest brother before catching on. “I’m not.”
“Sure; and you haven’t been dropping by everyday for a week after dinner, sporting the same look and staring into open space,” Kim Minseok retorted, placing his palms on the counter and leaning on his hands. “Not distracted at all.”
“Can’t I visit my eldest brother just because?” Jongin asked, jutting out his lower lip and blinking his eyes in feigned innocence. “Can’t I visit my eldest brother and drink his famous cocktails?”
Minseok laughed, the sound a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “You don’t even drink, Jongin. You only come here to dance, but you haven’t done that lately, either.” He took Jongin’s now-empty glass and refilled it with iced tea. “Whatever’s bothering you, you know hyung is here to listen to you. So come, tell me: is it the impending meeting with your promised mate?”
Jongin’s playful mood soured at the reminder. Jongdae had successfully convinced their parents he still wasn’t ready for the meeting, and the Oh family respected his decision by giving him the power to choose a date once he was. Jongin ignored the pang of guilt at their easy accommodation, but also understood he couldn’t stay complacent with the leniency they’ve shown. A silent expectation hung above him, one unspoken but impossible to ignore. After careful deliberation in the past days, Jongin selected a date and notified his before he changed his mind.
“Not really,” Jongin answered after a moment, tracing the rim of his glass with a finger. A new song came on, an EDM track he’d heard from yesterday’s visit but couldn’t remember the name of.
Minseok cast him a searching look. Instead of pressing the issue, he slid a small dish of peanuts next to his glass. “When you’re ready to vent, you know where to find me,” he said, giving him a reassuring smile.
“Thanks, hyung,” Jongin said, smiling back.
He found himself alone in the bar again after Minseok excused himself to take a business call. Dongwoo, one of the older bartenders who ran the bar in Minseok’s place when he was away, checked on him every now and then. Since Jongin stayed in the part of the bar exclusively reserved for family members and VIPs, it meant sitting a good distance away from people and socializing altogether, though his spot offered a great view of the floor.
Jongin bobbed his head to the rhythm of yet another EDM track he couldn’t identify. He traced senseless patterns on the condensation of his glass. In a compact place filled with an assortment of noise, his ears caught the hitches of breath and collective murmurs of wonder coming from different directions. It wasn’t loud enough to signify a commotion had started, but it told Jongin something must’ve caught their attention.
Jongin swiveled his chair so his back was facing the bar, eyes scanning the crowd to locate the source.
He met gazes with Go-Kart Devil from all the way across the room.
Even in his shock and the limited lighting of the club, Jongin saw the gradual enlargement of Go-Kart Devil’s eyes shining in unveiled surprise. Questions raced through Jongin’s mind. Was this coincidence? Why was he here?
One of Go-Kart Devil’s friends pointed at a vacant booth somewhere close to the corner of the establishment. A second friend shook his head and pointed at an empty table relatively close to the dance floor. Go-Kart Devil pointed at the second floor. The third friend shook his head no.
“What are you looking at?” Jongin heard Dongwoo ask. “Ah, it’s the fake foreigner and his friends.”
“Fake foreigner?” Jongin turned his head so he could give Dongwoo a confused look before returning his attention to the group—or, truthfully, just to Go-Kart Devil.
“Yeah, that tall guy with blond hair? I thought he was a foreigner on his first visit—kept talking to me in English before remembering to switch to Korean. I asked him on the second visit what country he’s from because I was damn curious. Wow, surprise: he’s actually Korean.” Dongwoo laughed heartily at the memory. “He still talks in English most of the time; those friends of his do, too. His Korean is good, as expected, but his pronunciation for some syllables sound off when he talks too fast. Could be because he lived overseas for years?”
Jongin mulled over these discoveries after Dongwoo excused himself, filing them away for future reference. So it wasn’t an auditory hallucination when he caught Go-Kart Devil’s accented words.
“So, you hang out here, too?”
Jongin’s eyes widened as none other than Go-Kart Devil himself occupied the stool beside his. It only struck Jongin a beat too late that he’d been asked a question but couldn’t reply as words abandoned him. The way Go-Kart Devil asked his question exuded almost absolute confidence if not for the stain of shyness he detected hiding behind his words.
Jongin also noticed a distinct, boyish quality in the way he smiled the more they conversed and grew comfortable in each other’s presence, sharp features softening in relaxation and a twinkle in his eye. He decided he liked this look better on him.
“Where’d you learn how to drive like you do?” Jongin asked, finally touching upon the topic that might get Go-Kart Devil to talk more. “You bring out Mr. Ha and Mr. Cho’s inner potty mouths with the stunts you pull.”
“I enjoy speed,” was the answer Go-Kart Devil offered after chuckling. “It’s a form of training for me, too. Just so I wouldn’t forget. Why do you hang out at go-kart circuits?”
“Purging excess energy from the full moon.” Jongin said it in a way that left no room for additional inquiry. It wasn’t an exact lie, but not the entire truth, but Go-Kart Devil didn’t need to know that.
“Hey, Willis.”
To Jongin’s utmost surprise, Go-Kart Devil heeded his friend’s address with a turn of his head.
“What’s up?” Go-Kart Devil—no, Willis asked. In English.
“Crowd’s livelier in the club next door,” the friend replied, also in English. “I brought my pass for the VIP section for it. Wanna come with?”
“Nah, I’m good here. You can go ahead. I’ll follow if I feel like it.”
The friend glanced Jongin’s way and smiled in understanding. “Hit us up when you change your mind, okay?”
“Sorry about that,” Willis told Jongin, switching back to Korean.
“Are you sure you don’t mind my company when you could be a part of livelier crowd at the club next door?” Jongin couldn’t help but tease, quirking an eyebrow and smirking for full effect.
Willis’ mouth fell open. “You understood our conversation?” Pure astonishment filled his voice.
“I’ve been taught English from childhood in and out of school, so you could say that,” Jongin confirmed. “I can watch movies without the aid of subtitles. I can write essays without using a dictionary. I can communicate just fine with foreigners, but if I am to fly overseas, I would prefer traveling with someone more fluent than I am to make sure I don’t land myself in trouble.”
Willis laughed. “I’m surprised, but don’t take it as a bad thing. A lot of people give me and my friends funny looks for speaking in English whenever they hear us. But it’s not like we do it to show off. It’s just force of habit that lets our tongues slip.”
Jongin knew he had no business prying into other’s affairs, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit curious about Willis’ English-speaking background. Although more than that, something else tugged harder at the strings of his curiosity.
“Is that your name? Willis?”
Willis made a noncommittal humming noise. Impishness dictated his movements, reflected in the smile pulling at his lips and the listing of his head. “If that’s what you want to call me.”
Jongin couldn’t help a laugh from escaping. “Then it’s what I’ll call you,” he said, after calming down. “I don’t care if it’s your real name or not. I’m here for an escape, not reality.”
Something in the atmosphere shifted from those mere words, stretching wide apart until it became wrought with tension, ready to snap any given moment. Jongin felt it on the exposed skin of his arm, a prickling but pleasant sensation steadily spreading through his body.
“And what should I call you in return?” Willis asked. “I don’t think it’s fair that you know my name and I don’t know yours.”
“It’s Kai.”
“Kai.” The way the syllables rolled off Willis’ tongue made the name sound a hundred times more alluring. “Is this the name you want me to call you?”
Jongin didn’t miss the flirtatious lilt in his words. “Why don’t you escape reality with me to find out?”
Whatever sexually-charged current crackling around them fizzled at Willis’ snort, followed by a hand clapping over his mouth in a poor attempt at muffling laughter.
Jongin had the decency to feel sheepish despite the reigning mortification. Left with little options on how to salvage the situation (and his dignity), he chose to laugh it off, wincing at how unnatural it sounded to his ears.
“That was pretty lame of me, huh?”
“It… kinda was,” Willis admitted, a combination of apologetic and amused. A few more chuckles before he added, “I still want to escape reality with you, though.”
“Glad to hear that,” Jongin said, a good portion of his embarrassment vanishing from those words alone. “Before we get out of here, promise me you won’t remember me as the one-night stand with the lame pick-up line.”
“If I will even remember you at all,” Willis teased, without heat or provocation, and certainly without condescension. “Although something tells me I won’t.”
Excitement thrummed through Jongin’s veins. With renewed boldness, he slipped off the stool and crowded into Willis’ space with deliberate slowness as a way of giving him a chance to stop his advances.
Willis remained unmoving, following his every movement with open interest.
Jongin brushed his fingertips along Willis’ shoulder, palm sliding down the length of his arm heavy with intent. Leaned close enough to whisper in his ear:
“You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
“This is the best you can come up with?”
Had it been any other person, Jongin would dismiss their opinions as invalid; maybe even scoff at them for their lack of imagination.
However, he valued this person’s opinions, for his input always pushed him toward the path of improvement and helped shape his ideas into more concrete forms.
“It’s still in the early stages. There are areas I admittedly draw a blank on, but events are subject to change,” Jongin explained.
Kim Junmyeon’s forehead creased while assessing the text, flipping back and forth between pages. “You have a promising premise. The main character is different from your previous work, which is always a plus. I’m just not convinced about his motivations. They’re not strong enough, or convincing. Also”—he flipped some more pages until he reached the second to the last—“I think it would be better if the conflict is introduced two scenes earlier in the first arc? Waiting until the third scene seems to slow it down.”
Jongin jotted down Junmyeon’s suggestions on a notepad. Lengthy discussions about plot progression and character development in his living room wasn’t his first choice of spending an early Saturday morning; but he seldom saw Junmyeon nowadays, and Jongin would grab any opportunity if it meant a few hours to themselves.
“Thanks as always for the input, hyung,” Jongin said, crossing out a few lines on the main character’s profile and scribbled the amendments beside it. “I didn’t expect you to come see me right away after I sent you my disjointed outlines.”
“Good timing is what I’d call it. I needed a break from reading contracts.” Junmyeon stretched his arms above his head and rolled his shoulders. “And let’s face it: you’re not the most prompt in replying to calls and messages. I could have sent you a mile-long commentary, but you’d have responded five days later, and that’s if I’m lucky.”
“I’m not that bad,” Jongin objected, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Last time I only took three!”
Jongin stuck himself to Junmyeon’s side, arms linked as they walked the familiar streets of Gangnam. Junmyeon booked a reservation at a Korean fusion restaurant a colleague had recommended, which he timed on purpose to coincide with his visit so they could check it together. Jongin wouldn’t say no to a free meal, even if it paled in comparison to his original, non-glamorous plans of staying in and ordering pizza for his Walking Dead marathon. Sometimes he just wasn’t cut out for the fancy dining life.
“How’s work? You don’t look as haggard compared to the last time I saw you,” Jongin commented, settling himself in his seat and placed the serviette on his lap.
“I haven’t been leaving the country as of late, so less headaches dealing with capricious business partners and baking under the sun playing golf with them.” Junmyeon made a face when he said this. Jongin laughed in response. “Dad’s proud of my recent achievements and contributions to the company, so I have to live up to the praise and expectation.”
“Just don’t run yourself ragged, hyung,” Jongin reminded. “You can work hard, but watch your health, too. If you don’t listen to me, I’m sending Jongdae-hyung to nag at you.”
The joke triggered a new bout of laughter.
“I’ve learned how to balance work and manage my stress levels, so you won’t have to worry too much about that,” Junmyeon said. “Why do you think I stock up on ginseng and vitamins?”
Lunch was pleasant as they exchanged stories when they weren’t busy shoving food in their mouths. Junmyeon shared funny anecdotes during his business trips; Jongin reciprocated with strange fan encounters in his recent book signings.
“I’ve heard from Mom and Dad you’ve finally consented to meeting your promised mate. Emphasis on ‘finally,’” Junmyeon said, slicing his chocolate mousse down the middle in one practiced stroke.
Jongin stared at the chocolate sauce smeared across his own plate of dessert, fingers gripping tight around the fork handle in place of groaning aloud.
“I was eventually going to agree to it,” he said, slowly. “I just needed to come to terms with the reality that I’m meeting my promised mate first. It’s not every day this happens. I didn’t think the day would come, to be honest.”
“Are you ready?” Junmyeon’s tone was light, gaze inquiring.
Was he?
The question plagued Jongin in the following days leading up to the scheduled date. His mother sent him a message the night before, telling him they’d rendezvous in Lotte Hotel Seoul at twelve sharp. A second message from her instructed him which restaurant. Jongin set up several alarms, and then re-read the messages until he could see the words even behind closed eyes.
It wasn’t the meeting he dreaded—Jongin was now clear on this. He could take facing strangers and interacting with them. What fed his apprehension was the ambiguity surrounding his promised mate’s identity, and not knowing what to expect. On rare interims slotted between sleepless hours, he indulged himself by wondering what sort of person his promised mate grew up to be. Looked like. If their life perspectives overlapped, or if they would clash horribly at everything. His thoughts on the arranged marriage, and if he’d reject it if, in the off chance, they turned out compatible.
The questions stewed in his mind, echoing louder with every toss and turn in bed. Jongin buried his head under the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and willing them away.
When Jongin opened his eyes, his mind was free from the pestering questions, he was lying on his back, and his digital wall clock read 12:35 P.M.
He spent the next ten minutes relying on the adrenaline rush, showering and dressing as fast as he could without walking into walls, tripping on his own feet, or breaking anything he touched in his haste to get out of the apartment. He checked his reflection in the elevator’s corner mirror and fixed the collar of his blue button-down shirt, then ran his fingers through his hair before smoothing it down with his palms.
“Jongin, where are you?” The concern overflowing from his mother’s voice when he picked up her call was palpable. “Did you see the messages I sent you last night? Surely you haven’t forgotten what day it is today?”
“Hi, Mom, I overslept. Sorry. I’m on my way,” Jongin said, sprinting toward the bus stop nearest to the apartment complex.
“Are you sure you’ll be fine? I can always send the chauffeur to pick you up,” Mrs. Kim offered. She might’ve sounded calm and appeased, but Jongin sensed the concealed worry. “I should’ve insisted on dropping by when you told me you sent your car for repair.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just call for a cab or ride the bus. I’ll be there in a while.” Jongin hesitated a bit before asking, “Has the Oh family arrived?”
“We bumped into Mr. and Mrs. Oh in the lobby. Their son isn’t here yet, so that makes two of you running late. Doesn’t mean you should take your time, of course. You still have to hurry before he arrives, okay?”
Jongin checked the timetable and cursed. The next bus would arrive in twenty minutes. He couldn’t waste twenty more minutes. He loaded the KakaoTaxi app and moved around the location pins for his departure and destination points. The app identified a few drivers near the area within seconds, but no one was picking up his call. He stared intently at the map on his screen, biting on his thumbnail in impatience. Nothing could make him tear his eyes away from it for fear of missing even the tiniest hint of progress: not the blaring of a horn from a van across the street, not the chiming of a bell attached to a bicycle that sailed past, not the motorcycle slowing down to a stop in front of him.
“Kai?”
Jongin’s head snapped up, almost losing his grip on his phone.
The motorcycle driver, clad in all black save for the white leather jacket, removed his helmet and revealed a face he least expected right now.
“What are you doing here?” Willis asked, curious and surprised. He placed his helmet in front of him before looking back, waiting for an answer.
The cogs of Jongin’s mind began turning the longer he stared at the motorcycle. He cleared his throat, wore a smile, and took his chances.
“Willis! So unexpected to see you here! You’re just in time. I hope this isn’t too forward or sudden, but I’m in a rush and have to be somewhere. Can I hitch a ride? Please?”
Jongin felt his cheeks hurting from smiling too wide in his hopefulness. Didn’t help they burned, too, from the sudden nervousness when he felt no reason to be. Sure, they spent one night together, but it ended on a high note and no hard feelings. The worse that could happen was Willis turning him away, which would leave him with his last resort of running all the way to the hotel. Distance wasn’t a problem—he could cover the odd number of miles, but Jongin had appearances to keep. Arriving in a sweaty, disheveled state wouldn’t leave a good impression, and the encounter would haunt him until kingdom come. He at least owed his parents this.
“Sure,” Willis agreed easily—too easily Jongin was taken aback and, for a split second, doubted he heard right. Willis fumbled with something on the side of his motorcycle and tossed a spare helmet at Jongin. “Where did you need to be?”
“Lotte Hotel Seoul.” Jongin wore the helmet.
Willis wore his helmet again, as well. “You’re in luck; I’m headed there myself.”
Jongin hopped on the motorcycle, hands hovering over Willis’ shoulders but stopped before he could completely lower them. Gathering courage from a deep exhale, Jongin wound his arms around Willis’ waist, instead—diffident, loose.
Willis turned his body slightly, dropping his gaze to Jongin’s arms before raising it to his face. “You should hang on tighter than that if you don’t want to fall off.”
Jongin shot him a slanted look, not missing the undercurrent of amusement in his words. Regardless, he complied. “Satisfied? Now drive.”
Willis’ indistinct murmur sounded suspiciously close to ‘how bossy,’ but the idea of confrontation was forgotten when the engine started and they sped away from the bus stop.
Jongin had limited experience with motorcycles. He simply saw no reason to buy or ride one when cars existed and suited his needs more. Even limited was his experience with people who knew how to drive one without turning into a road hazard. Willis seemed knowledgeable in driving a motorcycle, navigating the streets like he owned them, but also displayed cautiousness where he chose which narrow passages between vehicles he could slip through and when to overtake—all while maintaining a speed five kilometers below the maximum limit.
So different from the way Willis drove in go-kart circuits, roaring through the tarmac in breakneck speed equivalent to a heartbeat. Like he was in pursuit of an invisible enemy he would take down no matter what, or escaping the clutches of it.
Exhilaration streaked through Jongin as they zoomed past streets and buildings, sceneries blurring together into an indecipherable composition in the background. The close proximity provided Jongin the luxury of basking in the warmth emanating from Willis’ body while fending off the urge to press his face against his back. Even through the helmet, a hint of expensive cologne assaulted Jongin’s senses, though it couldn’t mask Willis’ unique scent. Something he’d had the opportunity of breathing in in copious amounts during that night of passion. Something he associated with the fresh morning dew, sweet strawberry jam, the comfort of an old knitted sweater, and the softness of a lover’s touch.
Jongin straightened up at the last description, scandalized how his mind went there.
Even more so at the fact his wolf rumbled in approval.
Willis pulled up in front of the hotel, giving Jongin no chance to dwell on it. He climbed off and almost slipped but caught himself in time, mind still reeling from the shocking revelation.
“Thanks for the ride.” Jongin handed back the helmet to Willis. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, not knowing what else to say but felt like he should.
“No problem. But don’t you need to hurry? Didn’t you say you were running late?” Willis pointed out, polite concern in his voice.
“Yeah, just—yeah, I have to go. I owe you. Thanks again!” With a hasty wave, Jongin turned on his heels and dashed through the hotel’s awaiting doors. Remembering his mother’s instructions, he searched for the special elevator in the lobby that would take him to the thirty-eighth floor.
Mugunghwa was empty when Jongin arrived, save for the hostess who welcomed him and asked if he was dining alone. She ushered him to the hall where the private rooms were located upon mentioning the reservation. After she left, Jongin stood in front of the door but didn’t reach for the handle. The answer to one of the greater mysteries in his life lay beyond it. He couldn’t say he was fully prepared, but running away wasn’t an option any longer.
Jongin saw his parents first when he stepped inside. They sat opposite two people whom he could only identify as Mr. and Mrs. Oh. They looked around the same age as his parents, if not older by a rough estimate of two or three years. Jongin willed his lips to form the smile he practiced in front of the mirror for many nights, and then bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Oh in polite greeting.
“My sincerest apologies for arriving late, Mr. and Mrs. Oh. It was not my intention to make you wait,” Jongin said, right after sitting down. “I hope you will not think ill of my tardiness, or that I have done this on purpose.”
“No, please; if anyone should be apologizing, it should be us,” Mrs. Oh spoke, smiling in regret and apology. “Our son hasn’t arrived yet, and I feel terrible for being unable to update you of his whereabouts.”
“Sorry I’m late.”
Jongin gaped at the unmistakable figure of Willis hovering by the doorway, expression bashful and cheeks tinged a faint red.
Willis caught his look, eyebrows furrowing in evident confusion, eyes burning with the same question running through his mind. His eyes never strayed from Jongin’s even as he walked further inside the room and strode toward Mrs. Oh.
“Where have you been? Why weren’t you answering our calls?” Mrs. Oh chided, hands coming up to lightly hold Willis by the arms once he was within her reach. She looked him up and down and sighed. “Couldn’t you have chosen another outfit for today?”
“I was cold,” Willis answered, voice gentle in a way Jongin had never heard before.
“You have other jackets appropriate for the weather.”
“I like this one.” Willis gestured to his leather jacket, a childlike smile tugging at his lips.
Jongin drew in a long, calming breath and exhaled it just as slow. For a painstaking moment, the world seemed submerged in water, a distinct sluggishness in everyone’s movements as he watched his parents acknowledge Willis’ presence with charming smiles and enthusiastic nodding of heads. He saw their lips moving but nothing registered, like a barrier had grown inside his ears that absorbed every sound in the room.
He remained frozen in his seat, saying nothing as Willis sit in front of him. The space between Willis’ eyebrows wrinkled, mouth compressed in an unimpressed line.
Pieces clicked into place, the overall result crashing down on him with the weight and force of a freefalling freight truck. He could only stare dumbfounded as everything resumed its normal pace and the clogging in his ears let up just in time Mrs. Kim confirmed and cemented the reality of what he’d already figured out.
“Jongin, this is Oh Sehun: alpha apparent of the Oh family and your promised mate.”
Pairing(s): Kai/Sehun
Rating: PG-13
Length: 8k
Summary: Arranged marriages in the 21st century are absurd though not unheard of among packs, but Jongin has no place to talk when he’s involved in one—with his one-night stand, no less.
Author's Note: Dear prompter, the possibilities I saw in your prompt came together and created an entire universe that spiraled beyond my control. This is but a glimpse of said universe as real life has unfortunately been unkind to me on the writing front, but I will post the complete fic when it is ready. Until then, I can only cross my fingers this is to your liking!
“Who is that?”
Jongin couldn’t take his eyes away from the lone kart zipping down the track in lightning speed, the roar of the engine permeating the air and growing faint as it drove further away. He held his breath every time the kart approached turns and corners and only exhaled once it passed through without a hitch. The skill and finesse the driver possessed Jongin only saw in the most seasoned drivers. For a brief moment, he wondered if the driver belonged to any of the kart racing teams he saw on his occasional weekend Paju trips.
“You don’t see many drivers of his caliber come here often,” Mr. Ha, one of the circuit’s oldest employees, remarked beside Jongin. He jutted his chin toward the kart driver. “That lad created a commotion on his first visit; defeated our fastest and most seasoned employees in a friendly race. Not too surprising, given his background. An honor to always have him returning here, to be honest.”
Jongin’s gaze skittered back to the track. In his years of go-karting at Paju Speedpark, he’d come to know Mr. Ha as selective in doling out praises. This driver definitely left a lasting impression on Mr. Ha if he was saying those words, which, in turn, piqued his interest considerably.
His subsequent visits attested to it.
Jongin would know when this mysterious driver was around. Aside from the noticeably livelier mood in the circuit and Mr. Ha assigning another employee to cover for him on those important ten minutes, the mysterious driver only rode the kart with the number ‘94’ painted on it. Mr. Ha personally saw to this kart’s maintenance, making sure the tires were always changed and the engine in topnotch condition.
Watching a kart complete its first lap always incited an exhilarating rush: the slow entrance into the track, the gradual acceleration midway, the challenge of maintaining momentum even with the turns and corners. It lost its appeal after the second or third lap, but Jongin found the standard ten minutes too short for his liking every time he watched the mysterious driver do his rounds around the track. Intrigued, too, that he’d never seen the driver’s face once, even on his returns. The opportunity was always snatched away from Jongin, either by an important phone call or the employees ushering him to his chosen kart if it was his turn next. By the time he could take a look, the mysterious driver had already disappeared.
It shouldn’t frustrate him, but when the circuit was small enough you could run into the same people no matter where you turned, Jongin couldn’t help feeling so. Though instead of lingering in the irritation, he’d bounce back from it and hope for a different outcome on the next visit.
Like this time, as he counted down the seconds until the ten minutes was up and might finally, finally—
Fingers dug into his sides without warning, yelping as it stabbed his ticklish spots. The evil cackling following had Jongin whirling around to meet Taemin’s unrepentant grin. Behind him stood Moonkyu, who shot Taemin an exasperated look despite being already used to his antics.
“You—!” Jongin feigned annoyance by slapping Taemin on the shoulder, pretense crumbling as he ended up laughing, anyway.
“Sorry, did you wait long? Traffic was a bit bad when we were leaving Seoul,” Moonkyu said.
“What’s got you so worked up? Were you doing something inappropriate?” Taemin teased. He snuck a look beyond Jongin’s shoulder, eyes immediately lighting up in mischief. “Ah, so you’ve been watching him again—the object of your affection in the past month.”
Jongin huffed, cursing inwardly at the heat seeping into his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Taemin turned Jongin around so he was facing the track again and swung an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah, sure; just close your mouth while watching or you’ll choke on a fly.”
“Gross.” Jongin tried shrugging him off in feigned petulance, betrayed by the chuckle that left him.
Taemin’s interest in go-karting was infectious. Two months after trying it for himself, he influenced Moonkyu, and then ultimately converted Jongin. Now, it was one of their bonding activities after not seeing each other for a long time due to their jobs and, as Taemin taught Jongin, a way for him to spend the pent-up, excess energy brought about by full moons. They tried all the go-kart circuits in the country, and while Jongin didn’t really care much for specifics, they agreed that Paju Speedpark was their favorite.
The sound of a rumbling engine drawing close interrupted his thoughts. Jongin spotted the kart immediately slowing to a halt by the tent, Mr. Ha and several other employees welcoming it back with cheers and claps like it competed in a legit race. Jongin watched the mysterious driver kill the engine and climb out of the kart, eyes roaming over his broad shoulders, the equally broad back that tapered to a narrow waist. His height and posture radiated the vibe of a model, but with the way he carried himself, Jongin didn’t doubt he probably was.
“Oh, man, look at that ass,” Taemin commented bluntly, reminding Jongin of his presence. “Is that why you keep checking him out?”
Jongin could only laugh helplessly in his surprise. He awarded Taemin a whack on the arm after recovering. “Shut up.”
“Hey, guys, it’s our turn,” Moonkyu told them, already heading toward the employee waving them over.
Jongin planted his feet firmly on the ground when Taemin tried steering him away. It was a struggle, one that Jongin lost when Taemin cheated by tickling his side and his knees buckled.
“Honestly, wait a minute! Let me just see what he looks like—”
Jongin escaped from Taemin’s hold, but the mystery driver had already disappeared.
Jongin’s lips twitched from the effort of stopping a smile while feeding one paper after another to the shredder.
If anything, he was partially at fault for not reading the e-mail properly and jumped right ahead to printing the attachment. The fact it came from a trusted relative didn’t raise any doubts, though the further he read into the five-page document containing alleged alternative methods on shifting, the lower his eyebrows pulled downward. He lasted two pages before deciding the dross unbearable, then made a mental note to inform his relative that no, he wouldn’t conduct a livestock sacrifice to invoke some unknown deity for the sake of curing a long-time problem.
He understood his relative’s intentions. They meant no malice or harm, even if the methods they sent him were probably lifted from some bogus website and sold off as tried and tested fact. Jongin was no stranger to spending countless hours browsing less traversed corners of the internet in search of a solution himself in his years growing up, especially when his parents brought in the best Healers from around the world but failed in finding the root cause of his shifting trouble. His family and most trusted friends never stopped searching for answers, informing him right away if they encountered anything useful. Out of curiosity and with a grateful heart, Jongin would try, though he emerged from them with heightening disappointment and dwindling eagerness.
Jongin had long accepted his fate as the first from their lineage who would never know what his wolf form looked like. He just wouldn’t voice it aloud for the sake of saving face—more for his family than his own.
After shredding the last paper, Jongin settled on his work desk and opened his word processor. The document loaded and a bulleted list of various synopses came into view. Beneath an item were two or more additional bullet points containing questions and comments by his editor. Jongin scrolled down to item number six and couldn’t help smiling at the entire section highlighted in the most obnoxious shade of neon green: his editor’s way of declaring what he should write next, which hadn’t changed despite the other plots he added yesterday.
Jongin sat back in his chair and tented his fingers together. Item number six wasn’t his favorite, but it was the first to paint the most vivid picture in his head. Words came automatic as the scene played out, and soon he was spilling them onto a new document.
Two thousand words into the scene before the front door beeped and unlocked. Jongin didn’t stop typing, eyes remaining glued to the screen. Whiffs of pancake batter and cinnamon tickled his nose, inciting a flood of warmth within akin to the early morning sun.
“Kim Jongin, your favorite brother in the whole wide world has arrived!” the loud, boisterous voice of Kim Jongdae echoed in his study upon entrance, strong presence and wide grin impossible to ignore. In just a few strides, he now stood by his chair and cuddled Jongin close to his chest. “Did you misplace your phone again? I told you I was visiting, you rascal!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Jongin said between small laughs, twisting himself out of Jongdae’s hold and eventually giving him a proper hug. “You know what I’m like when I’m working. What brings you here? Not that I dislike it. You’re a busy man yourself.”
Jongdae wagged a finger in the air as if to chide. “I am never too busy for family, especially when it’s you, baby brother.”
Jongin scrunched up his nose at the nickname, earning himself a laugh and a playful hair tousle. “I’m your brother but certainly not a baby anymore,” he protested.
“I don’t care what you say—you’ll always be my baby brother. You like being called that, anyway. How are you? Got a new project already?”
“Not really. Just free writing a random scene I couldn’t stop thinking about.” Jongin raised his nose in the air. Inhaled deeply.” Is that chicken I smell?”
“Your one and only favorite chicken,” Jongdae affirmed.
Jongin didn’t realize he was famished until his teeth sunk into the chicken breast and devoured it in less than a minute. Jongdae bought them two buckets of chicken each so there would be no shortage or sharing problem reminiscent of their childhood dining misadventures in which they always fought over the last drumstick. Though Jongdae won most battles, he would make up for the loss by willingly giving Jongin extra two pieces the next time they ate out for chicken. The fights decreased over time as they both grew up and away from home, but Jongdae never grew out of placing two chicken pieces on his plate even without being prompted.
Jongin licked his fingers clean from the sinful chicken grease. Caught the pensiveness on Jongdae’s face as he gathered the stray bones and tossed them into the now empty buckets.
“Is something wrong, hyung?”
Jongdae looked up at him, not saying a word until the last bone had been disposed of. His uncharacteristic silence confused Jongin but also set off an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now about the Oh family’s only son returning to the country.”
The tight knot in his stomach uncoiled, but Jongin couldn’t stop himself from huffing out in mild annoyance. This was the first thing their parents told him when he met them for dinner the week before, killing his appetite single-handedly not even the array of aperitifs offered could salvage.
“Let me guess: they sent you to persuade me into agreeing on a meeting with the Oh family?”
“Wow. Your enthusiasm is so compelling,” Jongdae deadpanned, a wry smile crossing his face.
Jongin squeezed his eyes shut, sensing a faint throbbing in his temples. “Can you blame me when this—this arrangement”—he spat the word as if venomous—“was formed on the grounds of an age-old truce when I was just barely two months old?”
Jongdae’s expression softened. “It’s not uncommon for noble wolf families to select their children’s promised mate. In this case, it was a way to ensure the truce is honored until the leadership changed hands.”
Jongin pressed his lips together and looked away.
A thousand years before his time, the Kim and Oh families were locked in a longstanding rivalry of who should reign supreme in Seoul. Nobody could pinpoint which family settled first or which side started stealing territories already owned by the rival family. What was clear was that the territorial disputes raged on for decades and almost showed no signs of stopping until a fateful turnabout forced both families to cooperate and, ultimately, call a truce.
A truce required certain conditions to be met and honored before it was recognized as valid. Jongin’s grandfather, the Alpha Supreme of their pack at the time, agreed on a permanent truce by marriage. Each family would take over twelve of the twenty-five districts in Seoul, with Yongsan as the sole free land and neutral zone. Unlike the turbulent period prior to the truce, wolves from both packs could now travel freely in and out of any district as they wished and shouldn’t be attacked or driven away.
Jongin knew little about his promised mate. The only thing his parents shared about him was that he was born in Seoul but grew up overseas. His grandfather was relatively more generous in dispensing details but couldn’t satiate his curiosity. His grandfather told him his promised mate shared the same birth year, albeit younger than him by three months. His promised mate presented as alpha during puberty and, as the only son, automatically hailed alpha apparent. His promised mate was able to shift as early as thirteen, something Jongin was envious about but also irrationally disliked him for.
Regardless, Jongin felt neither attachment to nor interest in his promised mate. Hearing about him was like coming across a fact list you’d read in one sitting, be amazed or appalled at your discoveries, then forget about it the next day.
“If you really don’t want to go, I’ll just tell Mom and Dad the truth,” Jongdae said, cutting through Jongin’s thoughts. “I’ll tell them you’re not ready and buy you time.”
“Can’t you tell them to delay it forever?” Jongin whined, though he knew it was futile.
“Don’t be ridiculous now,” Jongdae chastised, sans real heat. “Think of it this way: meeting your promised mate doesn’t mean you’ll go through a mating ceremony right away. You’ll have to go through the courtship period.”
“Nothing is guaranteed during courtship periods,” Jongin countered. “It’s so easy to show a polished version of yourself and fall into the trap, only to find out they’re secretly an asshole when it’s too late.”
“True,” Jongdae acquiesced, “but that’s what our wolf is for. They can sense things our human senses and sensibilities fail to pick up on. One could argue that our wolves can be unreliable because logic can be overridden by instincts, but it’s what saves us during dire situations.”
Jongin chewed on his bottom lip. “What if my wolf doesn’t like him?”
Silence stretched between them in the seconds following his question.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Jongdae answered, quiet but serious. “Worst case scenario would be a forced mating happens, but like hell we’re gonna allow that to happen to you.”
Jongin held no initial expectations when he dropped by Jamsil Kart for a go-kart session.
Yet standing by the sidelines watching a red kart speed down the circuit in a style Jongin recognized all too well as it outraced the employees driving against it gave him a certain sense of déjà vu.
After a meeting with his editor in COEX for a thorough discussion plan of his next book, Jongin dropped by the circuit to get rid of the extra energy hanging heavy on his limbs. Three days since the full moon passed, but a residual restlessness remained. His run in the woods together with his brothers helped him shed off a considerable amount, but he took it as a consequence running in his human form.
Full moon runs were most satisfying in wolf forms: this was what he kept hearing from his brothers and vouched for by the passing comments from pack members. He couldn’t tell for himself but took their word for it. While others enjoyed the luxury of a satisfying run on all fours, Jongin looked for other ways to appease his wolf’s restlessness, apologetic he couldn’t let him out and frustrated at his inability to do so.
Nobody questioned why Jongin participated in full moons runs in his human form. He was certain this was a topic of speculation and hearsay among pack members behind his back, but Junmyeon let slip on purpose that Jongin was reserving the showing of his wolf form for his promised mate. Like magic, gossip ceased at once. No one dared challenge a statement coming from any of the Alpha Supreme’s children.
It wasn’t entirely untrue, either. Noble wolf families strictly observed old-world traditions above everything else. Alphas, betas, and omegas born into them only showed their shifted forms to family and promised mates, if they had one, before revealing it to the world. As a precaution, Jongin would only run with his brothers to avoid unnecessary inquiries. He could handle his own if he ran with the pack members; he just chose to avoid inviting unwanted attention to himself.
“Old man Ha was right.”
Jongin snapped out of his reverie at the sudden comment.
Mr. Cho, Jamsil Kart’s manager, had his eyes trained on the go-kart leading the race—the one with a painted ’94,’ to Jongin’s non-surprise. “I didn’t believe old man Ha when he told me a devil appeared in Paju, but watching this boy stresses me out.” His sudden shout of surprise had Jongin jumping in place when said boy overtook two of the employees’ karts. “Damn—if that wasn’t the smoothest overtake I’ve seen! He sure as hell knows what he’s doing!”
Jongin returned his attention to the track. So it seemed Go-Kart Devil (as he would temporarily label him) raised hell in the circuits he set foot in, possessed driving skills that warranted praise from the likes of a notoriously-stingy Mr. Ha and even Mr. Cho, but he still had no idea what he looked like. He deemed it ridiculous, considering two months of passing each other by in Paju Speedpark should’ve thrown him opportunities for a glimpse, but the door to it remained annoyingly shut.
“Mr. Cho, this might seem like a silly question, but—“
“He’s coming, he’s coming! Almost forgot he only had ten minutes.” Mr. Cho sprinted toward the kart pulling up a few feet away, leaving Jongin behind with his arm awkwardly raised mid-air in a failed attempt at stopping him.
The arm gradually dropped to his side in the same way the next events unfolded in slow motion.
Go-Kart Devil climbed off the kart, jeans clinging tight to his long legs they almost looked painted on. The same broad shoulders and narrow waist donned in a flannel shirt in muted tones of earth and sea. One, two, three seconds before his hands came up to remove the helmet and—
Oh.
Short, bleached blond hair. Impressive eyebrows not of the same shade. A sharp nose and sharper facial features. His eyes were dark, piercing; a sea of many secrets Jongin wanted to take apart one by one, the pair of them catching and holding his gaze.
Jongin had seen his share of attractive people in his life, but none of them compared to this man who walked like it was his personal mission to take names and break hearts with a single glance.
Go-Kart Devil maintained eye contact for a bit longer—inquisitive, intrigued—before breaking it and striding toward Mr. Cho in a pace similar to runway models with their poise and straightened backs.
“I’d like another ten minutes, Mr. Cho,” he said, words coming out in a lazy drawl.
Jongin also noticed the faintest trace of an accent in the otherwise perfect Korean and distracting huskiness of his voice, heightening his curiosity all the more.
“Sure thing, m’boy!” Mr. Cho agreed, ushering him to the booth for the transaction. “Will you use the same kart, or will you be using another one?”
“The same kart, please.”
Go-Kart Devil nodded at something Mr. Cho said. Then, like he’d forgotten something, he whipped his head around again and snatched Jongin’s attention one last time before walking away—but not without flashing him a smile.
Not the teasing or taunting kind, but one that spoke of promise that stayed imprinted in Jongin’s memory, guaranteeing he wasn’t about to forget the moment anytime soon.
The proof of his words happened a week after the encounter, torn between laughing in disbelief or crying at this development after he woke up with his boxers damp front and back from an intense dream centered on dark eyes and teasing smiles.
Jongin shimmied out of his soiled boxers once he rolled out of bed, talking himself into believing this was caused by the remaining energy brought about by the full moon he had yet to clear from his body and not because he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was no stranger to wet dreams, but he deemed it outrageous how their most fleeting moment served as a powerful enough catalyst to trigger sensual fantasies. It was alarming, to say the least—he found Go-Kart Devil gorgeous, but they were technically still just strangers to each other, and Jongin might never be acquainted with him on a personal level.
He repeated this to himself as he cruised through his day answering e-mails and continuing the draft he’d started, only interrupted by phone calls from his editor and inquiries about his next book signing. By the time he finished two chapters, the sun had already disappeared from the sky, and his stomach grumbled in demand for food.
“What’s got you so distracted?” A cool, light voice entered Jongin’s ears, hearing it loud and clear despite the overpowering music filtering in through the club.
Jongin blinked at his eldest brother before catching on. “I’m not.”
“Sure; and you haven’t been dropping by everyday for a week after dinner, sporting the same look and staring into open space,” Kim Minseok retorted, placing his palms on the counter and leaning on his hands. “Not distracted at all.”
“Can’t I visit my eldest brother just because?” Jongin asked, jutting out his lower lip and blinking his eyes in feigned innocence. “Can’t I visit my eldest brother and drink his famous cocktails?”
Minseok laughed, the sound a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. “You don’t even drink, Jongin. You only come here to dance, but you haven’t done that lately, either.” He took Jongin’s now-empty glass and refilled it with iced tea. “Whatever’s bothering you, you know hyung is here to listen to you. So come, tell me: is it the impending meeting with your promised mate?”
Jongin’s playful mood soured at the reminder. Jongdae had successfully convinced their parents he still wasn’t ready for the meeting, and the Oh family respected his decision by giving him the power to choose a date once he was. Jongin ignored the pang of guilt at their easy accommodation, but also understood he couldn’t stay complacent with the leniency they’ve shown. A silent expectation hung above him, one unspoken but impossible to ignore. After careful deliberation in the past days, Jongin selected a date and notified his before he changed his mind.
“Not really,” Jongin answered after a moment, tracing the rim of his glass with a finger. A new song came on, an EDM track he’d heard from yesterday’s visit but couldn’t remember the name of.
Minseok cast him a searching look. Instead of pressing the issue, he slid a small dish of peanuts next to his glass. “When you’re ready to vent, you know where to find me,” he said, giving him a reassuring smile.
“Thanks, hyung,” Jongin said, smiling back.
He found himself alone in the bar again after Minseok excused himself to take a business call. Dongwoo, one of the older bartenders who ran the bar in Minseok’s place when he was away, checked on him every now and then. Since Jongin stayed in the part of the bar exclusively reserved for family members and VIPs, it meant sitting a good distance away from people and socializing altogether, though his spot offered a great view of the floor.
Jongin bobbed his head to the rhythm of yet another EDM track he couldn’t identify. He traced senseless patterns on the condensation of his glass. In a compact place filled with an assortment of noise, his ears caught the hitches of breath and collective murmurs of wonder coming from different directions. It wasn’t loud enough to signify a commotion had started, but it told Jongin something must’ve caught their attention.
Jongin swiveled his chair so his back was facing the bar, eyes scanning the crowd to locate the source.
He met gazes with Go-Kart Devil from all the way across the room.
Even in his shock and the limited lighting of the club, Jongin saw the gradual enlargement of Go-Kart Devil’s eyes shining in unveiled surprise. Questions raced through Jongin’s mind. Was this coincidence? Why was he here?
One of Go-Kart Devil’s friends pointed at a vacant booth somewhere close to the corner of the establishment. A second friend shook his head and pointed at an empty table relatively close to the dance floor. Go-Kart Devil pointed at the second floor. The third friend shook his head no.
“What are you looking at?” Jongin heard Dongwoo ask. “Ah, it’s the fake foreigner and his friends.”
“Fake foreigner?” Jongin turned his head so he could give Dongwoo a confused look before returning his attention to the group—or, truthfully, just to Go-Kart Devil.
“Yeah, that tall guy with blond hair? I thought he was a foreigner on his first visit—kept talking to me in English before remembering to switch to Korean. I asked him on the second visit what country he’s from because I was damn curious. Wow, surprise: he’s actually Korean.” Dongwoo laughed heartily at the memory. “He still talks in English most of the time; those friends of his do, too. His Korean is good, as expected, but his pronunciation for some syllables sound off when he talks too fast. Could be because he lived overseas for years?”
Jongin mulled over these discoveries after Dongwoo excused himself, filing them away for future reference. So it wasn’t an auditory hallucination when he caught Go-Kart Devil’s accented words.
“So, you hang out here, too?”
Jongin’s eyes widened as none other than Go-Kart Devil himself occupied the stool beside his. It only struck Jongin a beat too late that he’d been asked a question but couldn’t reply as words abandoned him. The way Go-Kart Devil asked his question exuded almost absolute confidence if not for the stain of shyness he detected hiding behind his words.
Jongin also noticed a distinct, boyish quality in the way he smiled the more they conversed and grew comfortable in each other’s presence, sharp features softening in relaxation and a twinkle in his eye. He decided he liked this look better on him.
“Where’d you learn how to drive like you do?” Jongin asked, finally touching upon the topic that might get Go-Kart Devil to talk more. “You bring out Mr. Ha and Mr. Cho’s inner potty mouths with the stunts you pull.”
“I enjoy speed,” was the answer Go-Kart Devil offered after chuckling. “It’s a form of training for me, too. Just so I wouldn’t forget. Why do you hang out at go-kart circuits?”
“Purging excess energy from the full moon.” Jongin said it in a way that left no room for additional inquiry. It wasn’t an exact lie, but not the entire truth, but Go-Kart Devil didn’t need to know that.
“Hey, Willis.”
To Jongin’s utmost surprise, Go-Kart Devil heeded his friend’s address with a turn of his head.
“What’s up?” Go-Kart Devil—no, Willis asked. In English.
“Crowd’s livelier in the club next door,” the friend replied, also in English. “I brought my pass for the VIP section for it. Wanna come with?”
“Nah, I’m good here. You can go ahead. I’ll follow if I feel like it.”
The friend glanced Jongin’s way and smiled in understanding. “Hit us up when you change your mind, okay?”
“Sorry about that,” Willis told Jongin, switching back to Korean.
“Are you sure you don’t mind my company when you could be a part of livelier crowd at the club next door?” Jongin couldn’t help but tease, quirking an eyebrow and smirking for full effect.
Willis’ mouth fell open. “You understood our conversation?” Pure astonishment filled his voice.
“I’ve been taught English from childhood in and out of school, so you could say that,” Jongin confirmed. “I can watch movies without the aid of subtitles. I can write essays without using a dictionary. I can communicate just fine with foreigners, but if I am to fly overseas, I would prefer traveling with someone more fluent than I am to make sure I don’t land myself in trouble.”
Willis laughed. “I’m surprised, but don’t take it as a bad thing. A lot of people give me and my friends funny looks for speaking in English whenever they hear us. But it’s not like we do it to show off. It’s just force of habit that lets our tongues slip.”
Jongin knew he had no business prying into other’s affairs, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit curious about Willis’ English-speaking background. Although more than that, something else tugged harder at the strings of his curiosity.
“Is that your name? Willis?”
Willis made a noncommittal humming noise. Impishness dictated his movements, reflected in the smile pulling at his lips and the listing of his head. “If that’s what you want to call me.”
Jongin couldn’t help a laugh from escaping. “Then it’s what I’ll call you,” he said, after calming down. “I don’t care if it’s your real name or not. I’m here for an escape, not reality.”
Something in the atmosphere shifted from those mere words, stretching wide apart until it became wrought with tension, ready to snap any given moment. Jongin felt it on the exposed skin of his arm, a prickling but pleasant sensation steadily spreading through his body.
“And what should I call you in return?” Willis asked. “I don’t think it’s fair that you know my name and I don’t know yours.”
“It’s Kai.”
“Kai.” The way the syllables rolled off Willis’ tongue made the name sound a hundred times more alluring. “Is this the name you want me to call you?”
Jongin didn’t miss the flirtatious lilt in his words. “Why don’t you escape reality with me to find out?”
Whatever sexually-charged current crackling around them fizzled at Willis’ snort, followed by a hand clapping over his mouth in a poor attempt at muffling laughter.
Jongin had the decency to feel sheepish despite the reigning mortification. Left with little options on how to salvage the situation (and his dignity), he chose to laugh it off, wincing at how unnatural it sounded to his ears.
“That was pretty lame of me, huh?”
“It… kinda was,” Willis admitted, a combination of apologetic and amused. A few more chuckles before he added, “I still want to escape reality with you, though.”
“Glad to hear that,” Jongin said, a good portion of his embarrassment vanishing from those words alone. “Before we get out of here, promise me you won’t remember me as the one-night stand with the lame pick-up line.”
“If I will even remember you at all,” Willis teased, without heat or provocation, and certainly without condescension. “Although something tells me I won’t.”
Excitement thrummed through Jongin’s veins. With renewed boldness, he slipped off the stool and crowded into Willis’ space with deliberate slowness as a way of giving him a chance to stop his advances.
Willis remained unmoving, following his every movement with open interest.
Jongin brushed his fingertips along Willis’ shoulder, palm sliding down the length of his arm heavy with intent. Leaned close enough to whisper in his ear:
“You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
“This is the best you can come up with?”
Had it been any other person, Jongin would dismiss their opinions as invalid; maybe even scoff at them for their lack of imagination.
However, he valued this person’s opinions, for his input always pushed him toward the path of improvement and helped shape his ideas into more concrete forms.
“It’s still in the early stages. There are areas I admittedly draw a blank on, but events are subject to change,” Jongin explained.
Kim Junmyeon’s forehead creased while assessing the text, flipping back and forth between pages. “You have a promising premise. The main character is different from your previous work, which is always a plus. I’m just not convinced about his motivations. They’re not strong enough, or convincing. Also”—he flipped some more pages until he reached the second to the last—“I think it would be better if the conflict is introduced two scenes earlier in the first arc? Waiting until the third scene seems to slow it down.”
Jongin jotted down Junmyeon’s suggestions on a notepad. Lengthy discussions about plot progression and character development in his living room wasn’t his first choice of spending an early Saturday morning; but he seldom saw Junmyeon nowadays, and Jongin would grab any opportunity if it meant a few hours to themselves.
“Thanks as always for the input, hyung,” Jongin said, crossing out a few lines on the main character’s profile and scribbled the amendments beside it. “I didn’t expect you to come see me right away after I sent you my disjointed outlines.”
“Good timing is what I’d call it. I needed a break from reading contracts.” Junmyeon stretched his arms above his head and rolled his shoulders. “And let’s face it: you’re not the most prompt in replying to calls and messages. I could have sent you a mile-long commentary, but you’d have responded five days later, and that’s if I’m lucky.”
“I’m not that bad,” Jongin objected, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Last time I only took three!”
Jongin stuck himself to Junmyeon’s side, arms linked as they walked the familiar streets of Gangnam. Junmyeon booked a reservation at a Korean fusion restaurant a colleague had recommended, which he timed on purpose to coincide with his visit so they could check it together. Jongin wouldn’t say no to a free meal, even if it paled in comparison to his original, non-glamorous plans of staying in and ordering pizza for his Walking Dead marathon. Sometimes he just wasn’t cut out for the fancy dining life.
“How’s work? You don’t look as haggard compared to the last time I saw you,” Jongin commented, settling himself in his seat and placed the serviette on his lap.
“I haven’t been leaving the country as of late, so less headaches dealing with capricious business partners and baking under the sun playing golf with them.” Junmyeon made a face when he said this. Jongin laughed in response. “Dad’s proud of my recent achievements and contributions to the company, so I have to live up to the praise and expectation.”
“Just don’t run yourself ragged, hyung,” Jongin reminded. “You can work hard, but watch your health, too. If you don’t listen to me, I’m sending Jongdae-hyung to nag at you.”
The joke triggered a new bout of laughter.
“I’ve learned how to balance work and manage my stress levels, so you won’t have to worry too much about that,” Junmyeon said. “Why do you think I stock up on ginseng and vitamins?”
Lunch was pleasant as they exchanged stories when they weren’t busy shoving food in their mouths. Junmyeon shared funny anecdotes during his business trips; Jongin reciprocated with strange fan encounters in his recent book signings.
“I’ve heard from Mom and Dad you’ve finally consented to meeting your promised mate. Emphasis on ‘finally,’” Junmyeon said, slicing his chocolate mousse down the middle in one practiced stroke.
Jongin stared at the chocolate sauce smeared across his own plate of dessert, fingers gripping tight around the fork handle in place of groaning aloud.
“I was eventually going to agree to it,” he said, slowly. “I just needed to come to terms with the reality that I’m meeting my promised mate first. It’s not every day this happens. I didn’t think the day would come, to be honest.”
“Are you ready?” Junmyeon’s tone was light, gaze inquiring.
Was he?
The question plagued Jongin in the following days leading up to the scheduled date. His mother sent him a message the night before, telling him they’d rendezvous in Lotte Hotel Seoul at twelve sharp. A second message from her instructed him which restaurant. Jongin set up several alarms, and then re-read the messages until he could see the words even behind closed eyes.
It wasn’t the meeting he dreaded—Jongin was now clear on this. He could take facing strangers and interacting with them. What fed his apprehension was the ambiguity surrounding his promised mate’s identity, and not knowing what to expect. On rare interims slotted between sleepless hours, he indulged himself by wondering what sort of person his promised mate grew up to be. Looked like. If their life perspectives overlapped, or if they would clash horribly at everything. His thoughts on the arranged marriage, and if he’d reject it if, in the off chance, they turned out compatible.
The questions stewed in his mind, echoing louder with every toss and turn in bed. Jongin buried his head under the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and willing them away.
When Jongin opened his eyes, his mind was free from the pestering questions, he was lying on his back, and his digital wall clock read 12:35 P.M.
He spent the next ten minutes relying on the adrenaline rush, showering and dressing as fast as he could without walking into walls, tripping on his own feet, or breaking anything he touched in his haste to get out of the apartment. He checked his reflection in the elevator’s corner mirror and fixed the collar of his blue button-down shirt, then ran his fingers through his hair before smoothing it down with his palms.
“Jongin, where are you?” The concern overflowing from his mother’s voice when he picked up her call was palpable. “Did you see the messages I sent you last night? Surely you haven’t forgotten what day it is today?”
“Hi, Mom, I overslept. Sorry. I’m on my way,” Jongin said, sprinting toward the bus stop nearest to the apartment complex.
“Are you sure you’ll be fine? I can always send the chauffeur to pick you up,” Mrs. Kim offered. She might’ve sounded calm and appeased, but Jongin sensed the concealed worry. “I should’ve insisted on dropping by when you told me you sent your car for repair.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just call for a cab or ride the bus. I’ll be there in a while.” Jongin hesitated a bit before asking, “Has the Oh family arrived?”
“We bumped into Mr. and Mrs. Oh in the lobby. Their son isn’t here yet, so that makes two of you running late. Doesn’t mean you should take your time, of course. You still have to hurry before he arrives, okay?”
Jongin checked the timetable and cursed. The next bus would arrive in twenty minutes. He couldn’t waste twenty more minutes. He loaded the KakaoTaxi app and moved around the location pins for his departure and destination points. The app identified a few drivers near the area within seconds, but no one was picking up his call. He stared intently at the map on his screen, biting on his thumbnail in impatience. Nothing could make him tear his eyes away from it for fear of missing even the tiniest hint of progress: not the blaring of a horn from a van across the street, not the chiming of a bell attached to a bicycle that sailed past, not the motorcycle slowing down to a stop in front of him.
“Kai?”
Jongin’s head snapped up, almost losing his grip on his phone.
The motorcycle driver, clad in all black save for the white leather jacket, removed his helmet and revealed a face he least expected right now.
“What are you doing here?” Willis asked, curious and surprised. He placed his helmet in front of him before looking back, waiting for an answer.
The cogs of Jongin’s mind began turning the longer he stared at the motorcycle. He cleared his throat, wore a smile, and took his chances.
“Willis! So unexpected to see you here! You’re just in time. I hope this isn’t too forward or sudden, but I’m in a rush and have to be somewhere. Can I hitch a ride? Please?”
Jongin felt his cheeks hurting from smiling too wide in his hopefulness. Didn’t help they burned, too, from the sudden nervousness when he felt no reason to be. Sure, they spent one night together, but it ended on a high note and no hard feelings. The worse that could happen was Willis turning him away, which would leave him with his last resort of running all the way to the hotel. Distance wasn’t a problem—he could cover the odd number of miles, but Jongin had appearances to keep. Arriving in a sweaty, disheveled state wouldn’t leave a good impression, and the encounter would haunt him until kingdom come. He at least owed his parents this.
“Sure,” Willis agreed easily—too easily Jongin was taken aback and, for a split second, doubted he heard right. Willis fumbled with something on the side of his motorcycle and tossed a spare helmet at Jongin. “Where did you need to be?”
“Lotte Hotel Seoul.” Jongin wore the helmet.
Willis wore his helmet again, as well. “You’re in luck; I’m headed there myself.”
Jongin hopped on the motorcycle, hands hovering over Willis’ shoulders but stopped before he could completely lower them. Gathering courage from a deep exhale, Jongin wound his arms around Willis’ waist, instead—diffident, loose.
Willis turned his body slightly, dropping his gaze to Jongin’s arms before raising it to his face. “You should hang on tighter than that if you don’t want to fall off.”
Jongin shot him a slanted look, not missing the undercurrent of amusement in his words. Regardless, he complied. “Satisfied? Now drive.”
Willis’ indistinct murmur sounded suspiciously close to ‘how bossy,’ but the idea of confrontation was forgotten when the engine started and they sped away from the bus stop.
Jongin had limited experience with motorcycles. He simply saw no reason to buy or ride one when cars existed and suited his needs more. Even limited was his experience with people who knew how to drive one without turning into a road hazard. Willis seemed knowledgeable in driving a motorcycle, navigating the streets like he owned them, but also displayed cautiousness where he chose which narrow passages between vehicles he could slip through and when to overtake—all while maintaining a speed five kilometers below the maximum limit.
So different from the way Willis drove in go-kart circuits, roaring through the tarmac in breakneck speed equivalent to a heartbeat. Like he was in pursuit of an invisible enemy he would take down no matter what, or escaping the clutches of it.
Exhilaration streaked through Jongin as they zoomed past streets and buildings, sceneries blurring together into an indecipherable composition in the background. The close proximity provided Jongin the luxury of basking in the warmth emanating from Willis’ body while fending off the urge to press his face against his back. Even through the helmet, a hint of expensive cologne assaulted Jongin’s senses, though it couldn’t mask Willis’ unique scent. Something he’d had the opportunity of breathing in in copious amounts during that night of passion. Something he associated with the fresh morning dew, sweet strawberry jam, the comfort of an old knitted sweater, and the softness of a lover’s touch.
Jongin straightened up at the last description, scandalized how his mind went there.
Even more so at the fact his wolf rumbled in approval.
Willis pulled up in front of the hotel, giving Jongin no chance to dwell on it. He climbed off and almost slipped but caught himself in time, mind still reeling from the shocking revelation.
“Thanks for the ride.” Jongin handed back the helmet to Willis. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, not knowing what else to say but felt like he should.
“No problem. But don’t you need to hurry? Didn’t you say you were running late?” Willis pointed out, polite concern in his voice.
“Yeah, just—yeah, I have to go. I owe you. Thanks again!” With a hasty wave, Jongin turned on his heels and dashed through the hotel’s awaiting doors. Remembering his mother’s instructions, he searched for the special elevator in the lobby that would take him to the thirty-eighth floor.
Mugunghwa was empty when Jongin arrived, save for the hostess who welcomed him and asked if he was dining alone. She ushered him to the hall where the private rooms were located upon mentioning the reservation. After she left, Jongin stood in front of the door but didn’t reach for the handle. The answer to one of the greater mysteries in his life lay beyond it. He couldn’t say he was fully prepared, but running away wasn’t an option any longer.
Jongin saw his parents first when he stepped inside. They sat opposite two people whom he could only identify as Mr. and Mrs. Oh. They looked around the same age as his parents, if not older by a rough estimate of two or three years. Jongin willed his lips to form the smile he practiced in front of the mirror for many nights, and then bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Oh in polite greeting.
“My sincerest apologies for arriving late, Mr. and Mrs. Oh. It was not my intention to make you wait,” Jongin said, right after sitting down. “I hope you will not think ill of my tardiness, or that I have done this on purpose.”
“No, please; if anyone should be apologizing, it should be us,” Mrs. Oh spoke, smiling in regret and apology. “Our son hasn’t arrived yet, and I feel terrible for being unable to update you of his whereabouts.”
“Sorry I’m late.”
Jongin gaped at the unmistakable figure of Willis hovering by the doorway, expression bashful and cheeks tinged a faint red.
Willis caught his look, eyebrows furrowing in evident confusion, eyes burning with the same question running through his mind. His eyes never strayed from Jongin’s even as he walked further inside the room and strode toward Mrs. Oh.
“Where have you been? Why weren’t you answering our calls?” Mrs. Oh chided, hands coming up to lightly hold Willis by the arms once he was within her reach. She looked him up and down and sighed. “Couldn’t you have chosen another outfit for today?”
“I was cold,” Willis answered, voice gentle in a way Jongin had never heard before.
“You have other jackets appropriate for the weather.”
“I like this one.” Willis gestured to his leather jacket, a childlike smile tugging at his lips.
Jongin drew in a long, calming breath and exhaled it just as slow. For a painstaking moment, the world seemed submerged in water, a distinct sluggishness in everyone’s movements as he watched his parents acknowledge Willis’ presence with charming smiles and enthusiastic nodding of heads. He saw their lips moving but nothing registered, like a barrier had grown inside his ears that absorbed every sound in the room.
He remained frozen in his seat, saying nothing as Willis sit in front of him. The space between Willis’ eyebrows wrinkled, mouth compressed in an unimpressed line.
Pieces clicked into place, the overall result crashing down on him with the weight and force of a freefalling freight truck. He could only stare dumbfounded as everything resumed its normal pace and the clogging in his ears let up just in time Mrs. Kim confirmed and cemented the reality of what he’d already figured out.
“Jongin, this is Oh Sehun: alpha apparent of the Oh family and your promised mate.”
NOOO WHAT?!!
Date: 2017-01-11 04:26 am (UTC)that was so soo soo good...
but i did burst out laughing when i read willis ahhahaha (remembered abt the IC...damn that was hilarious)
that was so goood...i so wish if it was longer....and glimpse of the wolves too hahahaha.
this was awesome...Thank you!
RE: NOOO WHAT?!!
Date: 2017-02-04 02:52 pm (UTC)This is actually just a quarter of the fic I had planned, I couldn't complete it in time due to RL and health complications, but yes there will be more! As to when the complete fic will be out, I cannot say OTL But thank you for the interest, and thank you for reading! ^^
no subject
Date: 2017-01-12 10:36 pm (UTC)this is such a nice take on arranged marriages, abo/wolf!au, and … a… modern… type of au?? and go-karts!!
idk how to explain it, but i just really liked how everything turned out and i loved how you ended this story.
even if jongin and sehun are promised mates to each other, it's nice to see that even before jongin knew who sehun was, he was still intrigued by him.
this story is a beauty in itself. thank you so much for writing it and gracing us with a wonderful new au to lose our minds in ;u;
no subject
Date: 2017-02-04 03:05 pm (UTC)Ah, there's actually more to the fic, I just had to end it there because that's how far I got u__u But I'm happy to know you liked it! That reassures me in a way that I'm doing something right ;u;
Thank you for taking the time to read and leave a comment! ^o^
no subject
Date: 2017-01-13 08:21 am (UTC)thank you so much for writing and sharing this
looking forward for the completed one :D
no subject
Date: 2017-02-04 03:07 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading! I look forward to completing it too =3
no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 08:26 am (UTC)it would be my pleasere if u continue this fiction XD
i am curious what is the wolf kai and wilis form T.T
this is so good =D
no subject
Date: 2017-02-04 03:07 pm (UTC)Thank you for the interest, and thank you for reading!
NOOOOOO
Date: 2017-01-18 07:13 am (UTC)RE: NOOOOOO
Date: 2017-02-04 03:08 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!
no subject
Date: 2017-01-23 12:34 am (UTC)I love this kind of genre..unique and interesting.. I hope it'll be longer..hehe
no subject
Date: 2017-02-04 03:08 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading!