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rymndsmth · 4 years ago

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querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy!

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling.

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive.

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend.

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about.

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed.

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung and his girlfriend).

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller.

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores.

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place.

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion.

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned.

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea.

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would��ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot.

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing.

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition.

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later.

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood.

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived.

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history.

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide.

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen.

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter.

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons.

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag.

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush.

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it.

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest.

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all.

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued.

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though.

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips.

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush.

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her?

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him.

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors.

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table.

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you.

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down.

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished.

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his.

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow.

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did.

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin.

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers.

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes.

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.

#*throws this and runs to take my dog for a walk*#jang han seo #vincenzo #fics.n

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sunsoothed · 3 years ago

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partnership

sorry for not working on the prompts. here's a uhhh. [checks notes] 2.7k words canon-divergence fic for you. fixing episodes 19 and 20! dedicated to the corn salad support group. thank you all! hope you like it. and sorry for any errors!

word count: 2719

read on ao3

enjoy!

When Vincenzo watches her go, ready to pull his hair out for the is it for women only question, he senses it. Something behind them, a lurking presence. He taps his foot for a moment, considering, still watching her go.

“Byeonhosa-nim!” He calls. The presence moves, as well.

Chayoung turns.

“Call me when you reach?” It’s meant to be a command, but Vincenzo never really lives up to his tiring image around her. “If- if you’re fine with that, of course.”

Chayoung laughs. “Seriously, byeonhosa-nim, I didn’t expect you to be so worrisome.” She shakes her head. “I’ll call you. Don’t forget to eat!”

Vincenzo nods. Chayoung finally disappears out of sight, to her car, and Vincenzo turns to try and discern whether his worries were unfounded. But there is no lurking presence anywhere, nobody watching them. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and debates lunch.

Chayoung had called him when she reached, all teasing and light, easing his worry and mounting his mortification. She hangs up with a cheery don’t wait up! And Vincenzo keeps his smile to himself as he hums at the dead line.

Don’t wait up, she had said.

Vincenzo still thinks about it as the evening progresses. When it grows dark out, he finds himself in need of a distraction, so the TV’s turned to one of the variety shows Hanseo had introduced him to, and he’s plucking his wine glass out of the cabinet, when —

Vincenzo knows bad omens when he sees them. He’s not surprised by the sounds outside his unit. Even less so at the letter.

It’s what inside that sets his insides frozen, still. Chayoung’s earring, covered in blood. Vincenzo bites his lip, caught between disbelief and a consuming fear. Turns back, contemplating, and eventually washes hs hands in a rush, picks up his phone, and runs down.

When Chayoung picks up her phone, he’s beyond relieved. “You’re okay?”

Chayoung’s greeting is cut off. “Of course I am. Are you?”

“I got… a gift.”

“Is gratitude something so foreign to you that you need to come running to me?” Chayoung asks drily. “Byeonhosa-nim, you really —”

“I think,” Vincenzo cuts in, probably breaking a speeding law, “I think Jang Hanseok is out.”

“What did you get?” Chayoung asks, and she moves, Vincenzo can hear. She sounds like she’s standing up.

“You earring,” Vincenzo admits. “It was covered in blood.”

“Now that you mention it,” Chayoung murmurs, “There are some suspicious people here.”

“I’m on my way,” He replies. “Just be careful.”

“You’re really making me feel like I can’t fend for myself, byeonhosa-nim.”

Vincenzo blinks. He can’t exactly discern her tone, is she… angry?

“I’m sorry —”

“Don’t,” Chayoung sighs. “Don’t start. I’ll wait for you, okay?”

Through some uneasiness, Vincenzo answers, “Okay.”

Yeonhwa will admit, she hadn’t expected Chayoung to show up. Her classmate’s always been rather flaky about these events, she doesn't usually come unless she has bad blood or business (or both) with someone.

So it was definitely a surprise when Hong Chayoung walked through the doors of the banquet hall, suit impressive and gait confident. Yeonhwa wasn’t sure what her intention was, but she had that tenacity in her that she’s always had, so it musn’t be anything out of the ordinary.

“Hwang byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung greets her with a mock-bow. “It’s been a while.”

“Hong byeonhosa-nim,” Yeonhwa mimics, “I haven’t seen you around these parts lately.”

It takes a moment for the screen to shatter, and they both laugh before they take their seats.

“Remember Professor Eun?” Yeonhwa asks, leaning close, already slipping into their old familiarity. “He’s the dean now.”

“Really?” Chayoung asks, genuinely surprised. “Why’d they pick such a bore?”

Yeonhwa shrugs, and they return their attention to the speeches being presented. Her leg begins bouncing under the table, and she’s unsure if Chayoung can sense it or not.

“By the way,” Yeonhwa says, unable to keep to herself even for a moment into the next speaker’s presentation, “Have things been okay with you? I haven’t been keeping up much with the news, but I heard about your father.”

Chayoung smiles at her gratefully. “Thanks for asking. I’ve been… dealing with it.” Dealing with it, Yeonhwa thinks to herself. It doesn’t really seem like it.

She sees something in Chayoung’s eyes, something raw beyond comprehension, some hurt. She places a hand on Chayoung’s arm, aiming to reassure. “I know we don’t keep in touch much, but if you need anything…”

“Thanks, Yeonhwa-yah,” Chayoung says. Odd. She actually feels the sincerity this time. “You’ve always been so kind.”

Has it been so long since she’s just had… a friend?

Chayoung swallows. Yeonhwa notes this, from the corner of her eye, and she realises that this must be why Chayoung’s been so distant.

It’ll be a long night, she supposes. Hopefully she can take Chayoung out for drinks after this.

Turns out, Yeonhwa cannot take Chayoung out for drinks after this, because she first gets a phone call that makes her sigh in a fond way, then makes her jittery in a terrible way, and second — Yeonhwa thinks this is the most confusing thing — there’s a man here to see Chayoung.

They were really just minding their own business after the speeches had ended, piling their plates with food and actually having a pleasant conversation when this trenchcoat clad man had burst in, fast on his feet, and Chayoung had stood up.

Yeonhwa blinks, uncomprehending, as she watches the interaction in front of her. The man — Mr Black Trenchcoat — is walking rather swiftly towards Chayoung. There’s some decided determination in his steps and when he reaches her —

Yeonhwa blinks even more. He cups Chayoung’s face. His thumbs brush her cheeks, and it’s so… unlike Chayoung to just stand there and take it.

Or, well, it doesn't exactly look like she’s taking it, she’s… enjoying this. Oh, Yeonhwa registers. Obviously Chayoung knows his man, but she hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend, or a partner or a husband or an anyone. Yeonhwa watches, puzzled, as they look into each other’s eyes and Chayoung finds some reassurance there.

Chayoung puts her hands against the man’s, and she says something to him, and he nods and backs down.

“Yeonhwa-yah.” Chayoung turns to her abruptly. Yeonhwa is shocked out of her confused stupor. She’s picking up her stuff, her phone goes into her pocket and her handbag to Mr Black Trenchcoat. “I need to go. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Chayoung!” Yeonhwa calls, a little louder than intended, “Promise.”

Chayoung blinks at her, halfway out of her chair. “Promise?”

“Promise me you’ll keep in touch,” Yeonhwa elaborates. “You always say you will but you never do. Promise me.”

Chayoung swallows, and Yeonhwa’s sure they’re feeling the same thing now. She bites her lip, then she holds out her hand, fisted, save for her pinky finger. “I promise.”

Yeonhwa smiles. She reciporcates, twining her pinky with Chayoung’s, and sealing the promise.

“I’m here for you, remember?” Yeonhwa implores, before Chayoung can take off.

Chayoung nods, and then Chayoung hugs her, squeezing tight. “Thank you, Yeonhwa. Thank you so much.”

Yeonhwa smiles wider, tightening her arms around Chayoung for a moment before letting her go. “Take care, hm?”

Chayoung nods. “You too.”

And she runs off with Mr Black Trenchcoat who holds her handbag for her and seems to treasure her, because he holds her hand tight. She can tell, by the look on his face, what Chayoung means to him. He’s also well-versed in loving Hong Chayoung, Yeonhwa thinks, and Yeonhwa smiles, for if her first love is happy, then she’s happy.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung says, as she meets Vincenzo outside Geumga Plaza, after parking her car. They had maintained their speed well within the permission of the law.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Vincenzo replies.

Chayoung sighs, walking to him, and then pushing him along as they enter the plaza. “I need to talk to you about something,” She says, “But let’s get to the bottom of whatever you were gifted first.”

Vincenzo gulps. He’s in for a scolding, isn’t he?

Reckless, he prepares himself. Reckless, thoughtless, inconsiderate.

Jipuragi is cold when they enter, no sign Mr Nam around. Vincenzo retrieves the earrings, the envelope, and presents it to Chayoung.

“It can’t be anyone else,” He says. He stands at the table, leaning over Chayoung, who’s sitting at the head. “It has to be him.”

Chayoung hums, finding the earrings she’s wearing now extremely unnerving. She reaches up to undo them. “Do we have any way to confirm it?”

Vincenzo tilts his head. “Jang Hanseo?”

Chayoung sets the earrings down on the table, drums her fingers over it. She doesn’t like this idea — she still hasn’t warmed up to him. “I suppose he’s our best bet.”

Vincenzo nods, retrieves his phone from his pocket, ready to call but he’s not sure what stops him.

“Something’s wrong,” Chayoung says, to a pin-drop silence.

Vincenzo stares at the door, something sinking in his gut.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung says, now desperate. She stands. “Did you see anyone when we came in?”

Vincenzo wants to shake his head, but he can’t take his eyes off the door. “Byeonhosa-nim,” He says, a warning. “Get down.”

That’s when the first bullet comes.

It’s cramped in the space between Vincenzo’s sofa and the bay window, but it’s their best bet. Chayoung tucks her knees to her chest, scooting closer to the corner to accommodate Vincenzo.

“No one’s picking up,” Vincenzo whispers. “We can’t go out.”

Chayoung swallows. Her throat is extremely dry. “So we wait it out, then.”

Vincenzo exhales, nodding. “Do you need anything?”

She shakes her head. “Come closer, they’ll see you from side of the sofa.”

So Vincenzo comes closer, and in this narrow space, the tension is undeniable.

“I’m sorry,” He says abruptly. “About earlier today.”

“What about earlier today?”

“For coming to… rescue you.”

“Rescue me,” Chayoung scoffs. “I should’ve seen something like this coming, you know.”

“What…” Vincenzo bites his lip. “What exactly are you referring to, byeonhosa-nim?”

“A showdown. Maybe one of us getting shot or something,” Chayoung lets her head fall back against the wall. “Losing.”

Vincenzo doesn’t want to snatch hope from his partner. Not after all he’s already taken from her. We haven’t lost yet — “We —”

“Also your… overprotection.”

That certainly makes the gears in his head still. “My…”

“I mean, I know it’s practical. I’m not a member of the Mafia, I can’t fight people like you. I’m just a regular lawyer, only fucked up slightly more than the system usually makes us.”

Vincenzo pulls his knees up to his chest as well, then settles his forehead against them and just… looks.

“I hate that I can’t fend for myself.”

“Who said you can’t?” Vincenzo tries, but it sounds empty to his own ears as well.

“Stop it, byeonhosa-nim. You of all people know I that I can’t. You saw me that day, when they came to kill me in my house.”

Vincenzo blinks up at her. “You can still learn.”

Chayoung glances at him, sideways, through her lashes. “You think so?”

He hums. “You can learn some martial arts. Or do it the organic way.”

“The organic way?”

“Let yourself loose out on the street. Offend some people. I’m sure you’ll find a sparring partner eventually.”

Chayoung snorts. “A sparring parter? Is that how you learnt?”

“I’m sure it added to my experience,” Vincenzo considers.

“But seriously,” Chayoung says. “Martial arts?”

He nods. “They don’t only help with strength; balance of mind, self-control, expelling worldly desires…”

“Expelling worldly desires,” Chayoung mocks. “Sounds like your exact opposite.”

Vincenzo has nothing to add. The unbearable silence roots itself more firmly, solidifies itself in their dark surroundings.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung says, a timid moment later. “Once you get your gold out… what will you do?”

Vincenzo finds his eyes looking away from Chayoung for the first time since they’ve settled here. He swallows. “Genuinely?”

“Genuinely.”

“I want to stay here.”

“In Korea?”

“With you.”

Chayoung goes still. “With me?”

Vincenzo finds it in himself to look at her again. “Do you still not know?”

“Of course I know,” She says. “I just… didn’t expect a confession in a situation like this.”

“I’ll be more predictable in the future,” Vincenzo promises. “Can I have another chance?”

Chayoung laughs, now, high, hysterical. “You don’t get another chance at a confession.”

“So that’s how it works,” Vincenzo says, to his knees. “Then I suppose your expectations can’t get worse.”

Chayoung glares at him.

“I love you.”

Chayoung stops glaring at him. “You love me?”

Vincenzo nods. “I do.”

“You…”

“I just want you to know,” He says. “You don’t have to reply.”

So Chayoung doesn’t. She stares ahead, at the arm of the sofa, and says nothing.

Well, Vincenzo thinks. This wasn’t how he had expected this to go.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung says. “You can’t practice law here.”

“I’ll study for the bar exam.”

“You won’t have to, though,” She continues. “You don’t have to work another day in your life.”

“What do you suggest I do, then?”

“You can stay home. Maybe you can learn how to cook. Or clean the place.”

“You’re trying to domesticate me.”

“Is it working?”

Vincenzo tilts his head. “... A little.”

Chayoung laughs. “That won’t be too bad, though, would it? You could be my house-husband.”

“Getting a little ahead of yourself, byeonhosa-nim?”

“We’re engaged,” Chayoung argues. “I’m just discussing our marriage.”

Vincenzo smiles, huffs out a laugh. “I adore you.”

Chayoung glances at him, shy. She looks at her knees for a moment, then speaks softly. “Me too.”

There’s a lull in conversation. The air is solid. Chayoung gulps, and she shifts closer.

“Tell me if you’re not okay with this, hm?”

Vincenzo looks at her leaning in and closes his eyes. She’s steeled herself, coming closer with purpose. Vincenzo waits for the softness to come, for something to go off within him, because if being with Chayoung sets him alight, kissing Chayoung —

Doesn’t happen.

Vincenzo’s apartment’s door is kicked down in a flourish, and there are footsteps everywhere, and Chayoung is holding her hands above her head now.

Vincenzo turns to face the music. It’s about time, he supposes. He isn’t supposed to have good things in life, anyway. He’s a murderer.

He exhales, cracks his neck, and turns, ready to stand and fight at any moment. But it’s Mr Nam, who holds a torchlight to his face, blinking owlishly.

“So you’re here,” He says, then looks at Chayoung. “Did I interrupt something?”

“You… took them down by yourselves?” Chayoung asks for the third time, in disbelief.

Around the large, make-shift table at Toto’s, the tenants nods and chorus a we did for the third time.

Chayoung looks at Vincenzo. “They took them down by themselves.”

Vincenzo nods, and for the third time, says, “They did, tesoro.”

Chayoung processes it. “So… there’s nothing left to do now?”

“We need to clean up,” Heesoo-unnie says. “Those bastards are all still laying dead on the floor.”

“Right,” Chayoung says, nodding. “I’m sorry, you said you took down Jang Hanseok’s men all by yourselves?”

In the end, it’s not too hard to find Jang Hanseok, even less hard to confine him to his suffering. Choi Myunghee is served as she deserves, and Vincenzo and Chayoung lay low for three months for the discoveries to blow over.

It won’t be enough to cover their trail, they know, but the gold and the Guillotine file are in their hands, and the world could use some order in chaos.

Vincenzo does, eventually, end up as Chayoung’s house-husband. He has her dinner ready every evening she returns from work or her taekwondo class, and his world’s a happier place for it.

In deep evening, when the city picks up life and the city scents sleep, they sometimes go out for dinner and drinks, or game night with their Geumga family, or Chayoung catches a movie with Yeonhwa.

And at late night, when it’s just them against the dying cityscape, Chayoung will cup her husband’s face in her hands and remind him of his place in the world. Vincenzo will be grateful for it until he can handle it, and then some more, for what is love, if not growth?

#tvn vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #chayenzo #chayenzo fic #vincenzo fic #vincenzo canon divergence #whovie writes

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