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somethingkindazainy · 3 months ago

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♡ Pairing: Minho x Jisung ♤ Genre: Mafia AU, Romeo x Romeo ♢ Chapter Warnings: Graphic descriptions of Violence, foul language throughout, alcohol use, non-con(mxf) ♧ MINORS DNI

♤ ♡ TASTE Synopsis & Chapter List ♢ ♧

<< Chapter 1 - Parley ♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ Chapter 3 - Broken Compass >>

Chapter 2: The DLC

♢ ♧January - 2024♤ ♡

Minho leans against the bar, sips his water, and studies his surroundings.

The club he’s in, The DLC, has recently come up for auction, and Minho is here to assess it for potential investment. Unlike other buyers, he didn’t come here when the place was empty. It’s a nightclub, in his opinion, nightclubs are best viewed at night when it’s filled with customers.

Assessing property is usually Seungmin's niche. Seungmin can look at things, know in his mind what it will cost to put things right, and whether it could become a viable, profitable enterprise. Seungmin would’ve visited when it was empty, a tape measure and calculator in hand and asked smart questions about turnover, footfall and margins. But Seungmin is very much a thinker, a planner, a to-do list maker. Minho is a move first, ask for forgiveness later kind of guy and doesn’t have anything except an instinctual gut feeling.

Instinctively, he feels it has potential. So far, Minho likes the location. It’s in a good area of Seoul, just south of the river and the place is heaving. The security is a little lacking, he is currently sitting at the bar with a knuckle duster in one pocket and his knife in a shoulder holster. Security would definitely need improving, but Hyunjin could easily see to that. The DJ is good, adapting his noisy music to suit the crowd. Minho would keep him on if their bid is successful, perhaps see if he’d split his time between venues. There are male and female dancers on podiums high above the dance floor, wearing little more than glitter and body paint, their gyrations keeping the crowds entertained and invigorated. He wants to keep them too. His Father will hate it. Which is another reason Minho wants it.

“Sammy! Scotch on the rocks,” a panting voice to his right says to the barman.

Minho glances at him, only a second, but within that he captures the honey colour of the young mans skin, adorned with silver jewellery, the beads of sweat on his forehead. Black hair pasted to the nape of his neck and a black silk shirt. He sees all that in one brief glance.

“Oh, hello new face,” the young man says now. A hand with several silver rings, fingers Minho’s tie. “Not the usual dress code for a night on the town.”

Minho slews his gaze over to him. The young man is facing him now, his face is sort of round, his eyes large and dark, in part because he’s wearing heavy eyeliner. Minho quite likes his smile. It’s wide and bright.

“I’m working,” Minho says coolly.

“Oh,” the young man lets go of his tie. “So this is very much a business not pleasure visitation? Or are you mixing the two?”

Minho sips his water, averts his gaze, “Very much business.”

The young man hums, “Well that’s a little disappointing.” He leans back against the bar, his elbow only a hair width from Minho’s own. “Now, what line of business could you possibly be in, wearing a suit to a nightclub? Don’t tell me—” he theatrically purses his lips. “Maybe you’re a talent scout for one of those big companies, out here looking for the next big thing in k-pop?” he steps in front of Minho’s eye line, and now Minho can see him in his entirety. He’s wearing a black silk shirt, tucked into black torn jeans which are in turn tucked into black almost knee high combat boots. His legs are slightly bowed and his waist is grabbable. “I could be him!”

Minho snorts.

“Judgemental,” the young man says, but he’s still smiling that smile. “I’d be an ace, just so you know.”

“Your drink, sir,” says the barman from behind Minho.

“Thanks Sammy,” the young man steps forward, steps between Minho’s legs, his hand flat against Minho’s chest and Minho is fighting to keep his breath even, but knows that his heart rate is betraying him. The young man smells of whisky and sweat and something else, not aftershave, but something that is very warm and pleasant, almost earthy.

“I’m not buying what you’re trying to sell,” Minho says into his ear and he sees the young man’s lip quirk. Probably because he knows Minho is lying. Perhaps he can sense that Minho wants him to.

“Oh, sweetheart, you couldn’t afford me if I were selling,” he pushes himself away, Minho’s tie slipping through his fingers as he drinks from his whisky glass, his throat bobbing. “And I don’t give it away either,” and he winks as he turns away, disappearing down the stairs back to the dance floor.

Minho swallows, takes a breath. Clears his throat. He feels like he’s done five rounds in the ring with Nikko. Part of him is annoyed that the young man had the audacity to touch him. The other, slightly larger part, is annoyed that he had enjoyed it. He raises his bottle to his lips, but the bottle is empty.

“Another, sir?” The barman is good. Minho decides he’ll keep him on too.

“No thanks,” Minho stands, pulls out his wallet. “Sammy, is it?”

“Sam, sir,” the barman is close to Minho’s age. He has intricate tattoos on his forearms, a warm smile and soft brown eyes. He’s well built, muscles pulling at the seams of his shirt and a whole head taller than Minho.

“You know the gentleman that just ordered the scotch on the rocks?”

“Jisung? Yes, he’s a regular, sir. He comes here every Friday.”

“Why Friday?”

Sam shrugs, “Probably the DJ, sir. His set is Friday. Friday’s are our most popular night.”

Minho absorbs this little tit-bit. “Would your manager be available to speak with?”

“Uh, we don’t currently have a manager, sir. Is there a problem? Perhaps I can assist?”

“No, no problem,” Minho hands Sam his business card, “I’m thinking of buying this place. I’m just wondering if there’s a reason I shouldn’t.”

Sam considers his business card for a moment. Eyes him warily.

“All confidential,” Minho assures him.

“You seem like a decent fella, so I’ll tell you why you probably want to look elsewhere,” Sam tucks the card into his pocket, leans forward on the bar. “We’ve had some trouble with the Park family. Have you heard of them?”

“I’m familiar.” There’s always a fucking catch. “What kind of trouble?”

“Drugs, mostly. They’ve been in here pushing, claiming whatever pill they have is something it’s not. We had a few OD’s last year. The owner put things in place to help prevent harm to the punters. The dancers are linked to security through ear pieces, they have a good vantage point of the surroundings, see. We have staff in the toilets now. We’re doing what we can, but I think the owner received some threats, and that’s why he’s dipping out. I don’t really know more than that.”

“Where is the current owner?”

“Last I heard, he ran off to Jeju with his family. Then this place went on the market the very next day. Wasn’t a nice way to hear you’re about to lose your job.”

“But you all stayed?”

“A few cut and run, including the managers, but I’ve been here six years. Many of the dancers too. I care about this place, and the staff. It seems unreasonable just to leave because there’s some asshats trying to ruin things. And…” he hesitates. “We’re LGBTQ+ friendly, sir.” Minho keeps his expression neutral. “There aren’t many places like this in Seoul. I don’t think many new buyers will be okay with that. The people that stayed, stayed because there isn’t anywhere safe for them to go. There isn’t anywhere else where they can be themselves.”

Minho decides he really likes Sam. It’s a gut feeling. “Thank you, Sam,” he drops some money on the bar. “Get yourself a drink.”

“Thank you, sir, but I don’t–”

“Give it to charity, if you’d feel more comfortable.”

Sam nods.

“And,” Minho drops more money on the counter. “Get a drink for Jisung.”

“Of course, sir. Shall I say it came from you?”

Discreet too. If Minho’s bid is unsuccessful, he’s finding somewhere for Sam. He’d find somewhere for all of them. “Tell him it’s from the talent scout.”

“’Talent scout’, yes, sir.”

“And Sam, if the Parks start trouble, don’t waste your time calling the police, you reach me on the number on that card.”

Sam smiles, reaches behind the bar and pulls out a baseball bat studded with nails, holds it on the counter. “I think I can handle a few thugs, but sure, if something crops up that I think we can’t handle, I’ll give you a call.”

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

“You bought this place?” Seungmin is massaging his temple with his fingers.

It's been a month since his first visit. A week since the paperwork was signed and sealed and now The DLC is officially Clowder owned. There was no auction. Minho just made an offer too good to refuse. After that, everything happened swiftly. He’s feeling really rather proud of himself. “Yes.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Seungmin sighs and it’s quite amazing that his sigh is audible above the bass of the electronic music.

Minho chuckles, “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not viable,” Seungmin says. “Cosmetics alone will put this place in the red.”

“We’ll make it back,” Minho says. “Look at it! It’s popular.”

“It’s south of the river.”

“So? We’re expanding.”

“Father will hate it,” Seungmin pointedly nods at a tall male dancer with chocolate coloured skin, on a podium wearing metallic silver short shorts and angel wings. Nothing more. His female counterpart is wearing devil horns, a red thong and platform heels. Seungmin has gone a pretty shade of pink.

“He doesn’t like any of our places. And the fact this is south of the river means he’s unlikely to stop by for a visit. And there’s ten flats above this that I now own as well.”

“Well,” Seungmin considers this. “That’s good. The rent from them will keep this place afloat. What’s the return on each?”

“Nothing, the tenants all work here. Their last landlord stiffed them, so I’ve said they only have to pay their electric, water and rates. In exchange they keep this place clean and going. It’s a win-win.”

Seungmin’s side eye is next level. “I am running out of fucks. You literally have no business sense.” Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well, I suppose you’ve gone and done it now, so I have to come in and sort out the mess you’ve made.”

“That’s our dynamic isn’t it?” Minho signals at Sam who is hovering at the far end of the bar. “Seungmin, this is the manager, Sam. Sam, this is my brother Seungmin.”

Sam bows courteously, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Hello,” Seungmin says soullessly.

“Sam, will you show Seungmin the books? He’ll want to see everything you have, so I’d prepare some coffee. And be candid with him. There’s no secrets when it comes to my brother. He’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to getting to the truth of things.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“Of course, sir. If it’s okay with you, I will arrange some cover for the bar and we can go to the office?”

Seungmin nods and Sam walks to the far end of the bar.

“Why’s the manager working the bar?”

“He doesn’t like being idle and he was the barman when I took over. I’m not about to argue with him.”

“You kept the original staff?”

“Yes and made Sam manager. The staff like him, and they trust him and so do I. He seems like a good man. And I’ve bought the exclusivity of the DJ. He’ll only perform at our clubs going forward. Hyunjin's coming in over the weekend to work on tightening the security.”

“This is getting worse,” Seungmin sighs and stands. “I should have brought two red pens.”

“You love it,” Minho winks at him. “I bet your nerdy little soul is getting hard just thinking about all those receipts out of order and dusty account books and—”

“I can not emphasise this enough: fuck you,” but he’s smiling.

“—spreadsheets,” Minho groans, then laughs when Seungmin thwacks him on the shoulder.

Sam returns, he’s found a female member to cover the bar for him. “Shall we, sir?”

“Sam, every time you call me ‘sir’, I get heartburn and turn around looking for my old man. You can call me Seungmin.”

Sam smiles, “Of course. If you’d like to follow me?”

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” Seungmin says with the air of someone threatening one’s life. As he passes, he very deliberately hits Minho’s knee with his briefcase. Smirks.

Minho flips him off.

“That’s not very demure,” a familiar voice says now.

Minho is smiling before he turns to look at him. Tonight Jisung is wearing a silk leopard print shirt over a tight black top. His waist pinched in black trousers. He’s wearing his usual combat boots. “Have you been lurking?”

“Me? No, I’ve been on the dance floor.” He looks Minho up and down, “Oh, dear, you’re still working. Do you ever get a night off?”

“I literally just clocked off for the night.”

“Hmm,” Jisung reaches over and loosens Minho’s tie. Undoes the top button of his shirt, his fingers feel warm as they brush Minho’s skin. “That’s a bit better. Now you look like someone who’s just clocked off.” He leans against the bar on one elbow. It accentuates the curve of his waist, his hip jutting out just so. He knows exactly what he’s doing and it takes an incredible amount of effort for Minho not to look. “Who was the cutey you were with?”

“Have you been watching me?”

“Maybe,” Jisung smiles, nods to the lady behind the bar, who immediately starts preparing his drink. “Are you going to drink tonight?”

“I’m driving.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t know how to have fun. And you haven’t answered my question about your handsome male friend.”

“He’s my brother,” Minho says simply. “And you sound like someone who doesn’t know how to have fun without alcohol.”

“Sometimes, alcohol just makes things feel better.” Jisung looks at the glass of whisky that the bar staff has just placed in front of him. His smile has cooled, his eyes taking on a far off look. He looks kind of… sad, which doesn’t suit him. “Can I tell you a secret?” His fingers are touching Minho’s now, feather soft, ticklish touches. His finger tips are calloused, but still softer than Minho’s

Minho watches Jisung's thumb trace his scarred knuckles. Waits.

“I’m actually a very shy person in the real world.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” Minho says, allowing his fingers to trace the creases on Jisung’s palm.

Jisung smiles at him, let’s go, starts to walk backwards, “Maybe I’ll see you on the dance floor?” and too soon he’s gone, lost in the throng of the revellers.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” the girl behind the bar says. “He didn’t take his drink.”

Minho unknots his tie, wraps it around his hand and drops it into his coat pocket. He’s warm, and he knows it has very little, if anything, to do with the temperature of the club. He walks over to the railings overlooking the dance floor. It doesn’t take him long to find Jisung in the centre, dancing with two female companions. A girl wearing a scarlet mini dress is at his front, a girl in a royal blue bodysuit is behind him, both grinding up on him. Jisung’s hands are on the girl-in-red’s thighs, the girl-in-blue is kissing his neck and he is biting his lip. As Minho watches, the girls alternate between kissing each other and kissing Jisung’s neck, their pretty little hands smoothing over Jisung's chest, his waist, his thighs. Minho feels heat rising in his chest. His knuckles whiten against the railings. And now Jisung opens his eyes and he looks directly at Minho. No, not at him, into him. Even from here, he must be able to sense Minho’s desire. Minho’s jealousy.

Feeling hot and going dumb, Minho pushes away from the railing, walks to the exit onto the rain slicked street. Grateful for the coolness of the late night air. He turns right into the alley running alongside the club, to cut through to his car, parked a block away. It’s a habit he hasn’t broken out of since one of his brother's cars was firebombed a few years back.

“Didn’t you enjoy the show?”

Minho pauses, glances over his shoulder at Jisung who is walking towards him, looking fine despite the lip gloss staining his throat. Minho pushes his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Not really my thing.”

“The girls, or me, or the combination?” Jisung asks teasingly.

Minho knows he already knows the answer to that, but still makes sure to smirk at him, “All of the above.”

Jisung is very close now, he smells of warm whisky, sweat, perfume and that other smell that underlies all that. That intoxicating one. A heady, earthy smell. “Hmm, he lies too,” Jisung says, his fingers and thumb rubbing the fabric of Minho’s coat collar. “So why don’t you tell me what it is you do like?”

“I think you’re drunk,” Minho tells him.

“I assure you I’m not as drunk as I should be,” Jisung's fingers brush Minho’s belt and Minho seizes hold of his wrist, wrenches it away, which takes a lot of effort and willpower on his part. Jisung pouts and something about the look suggests to Minho that he’s someone who is used to getting what he wants. It’s wrong of him to show that. In part, because Minho finds the look a bit of a turn on, “What are you scared of?”

“I think you have that the wrong way round,” Minho leans forward, his breath warm against Jisung’s ear. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle me even on your best day.”

“You quite sure about that?” Jisung says and his lips brush the spot below Minho’s ear which is somehow directly connected to a spot behind Minho’s belly button. He’s grateful Jisung can’t see his face at this moment.

He releases Jisung, steps back, reaches into his pocket for a business card and pen. Scribbles his personal number on the back. Holds it out.

Jisung snatches the card from him, looks at it. “Lee Minho.”

“Call me when you’re not pissed, Jisung.”

He takes a moment to marvel at the look of confusion on Jisung’s face that he already knows his name, turns on his heel and walks up the alley.

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

At his car, he pulls off his coat, lays it in the back seat. Slides in, starts the engine and sits there. Hands tight on the steering wheel as he tries not to think about his dick, which is very much still contemplating Jisung.

His head is filled with Jisung’s scent. His skin still tingles where Jisung had touched him. Jisung had been willing, and Minho had wanted so badly to do unspeakable things to him in that alley. Why the fuck didn’t you do anything about it?

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he taps the touch screen on the centre console to read the message.

Unknown Number: I am pissed, as in angry. Hence the text. J.

“Who the fuck says hence anymore?” Minho wonders aloud as he saves the number into his personal contacts under the pseudonym, Ace. He taps a quick reply.

LM: Yeah? Why’s that?

His phone rings, he answers on the car's bluetooth handsfree. “Hey Seungmin. Are you done already?”

“Hardly. I’m taking some books and a hard drive home with me.”

“You dirty boy.”

“Fuck you,” Seungmin says, but Minho can hear the amusement in his voice. Through the line he can hear the bass of the music. Can imagine he’s still sitting in the back office of the club, arms deep in a bag of receipts.

“How’d you get on?”

“We might have a bit of a problem.”

“With Sam?”

“No, you’re right about him, decent bloke. I met a few of the staff and they all respect him. Sam already had the books and all that organised after you made him manager. Took him a week to sort through. Apparently the other managers were a bit nonchalant about bookkeeping. But Sam seems to know what he’s doing.”

“Oh, lord, did I find your ideal? Can I be the best man at your wedding?”

“If I ever get married, you won’t be invited.”

“But I already have the perfect calculator picked out.”

“Min, can you stop pissing about and listen to me for a second? The problem is the Parks.”

“Yeah, Sam mentioned the drug problem last year, but it seems like that’s died off since they put new measures in place.”

“Yeah, well, there might be a reason for that. It looks like the previous owner was syphoning off some of the profits and paying them off.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Minho slaps the steering wheel. “You are kidding me?”

His phone buzzes and a new message flashes on the console.

Ace: you got me all horny and left me.

“No. It’s the only thing Sam and I can come up with. Every week, until the place went up for auction, there’s been a cash payment. No name, no reference, just a circle. It’s not a small number either. Sam reckons it’s started at about fifteen percent of the weekly intake, but it’s been steadily increasing. I haven’t looked at the numbers too closely, but from what I’ve seen, I don’t think Sam’s wrong. The most recent payments sit at about forty percent. The only time it differentiates is if there’s a missed payment. The following payment almost triples.”

“Late payment fee,” Minho is staring at the ceiling of his car, cursing the Parks, the higher powers and himself.

“Looks like it. And that’s before rates and wages and stock— ”

“— fuck.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin sighs. Minho realises that Seungmin sighs a lot when Minho’s involved. “It’s not good.”

“Protection money?” no wonder why the previous owner practically bit his hand off on the first offer. Minho considers ways he can find him, maybe make him see the errors of his ways…

Ace: I’m adding tease to the list of your qualities.

“That’s what we think. Sam reckons the start of the payments tally about the time the problems with the violence and the drugs seemed to have faded out. Which he’d always thought was a bit odd, but he didn’t know what was going on behind the scenes and whenever he asked about it, he was fobbed off. It’s one of the first things he spotted when he was trying to get the books in order for you. Apparently he tried to talk to you about it, but you said something along the lines of ‘I’m not interested in the accounting side of things’.”

“He told you that, huh?”

“No. He didn’t say a thing. I filled in his discreet silence with words I can hear you saying.”

Seungmin; forever the smartest. What a pain in the arse.

“I think that’s a form of entrapment.”

“I think you need to look before you leap next time,” Seungmin says. “So far there are five weeks unpaid, so there’s trouble round the corner. At least you bought it under the family name, it might make them hesitate to do anything stupid.”

“Ah, well… the thing about that is—”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“It was quicker doing it directly, through my own solicitor. I figured I’d transfer it to the family once things were up and running—”

“So the club isn’t even under the protection of the family banner? You do know you’ve fucked up, don’t you? That you’ve made a big fucking mistake?”

“Yeah, Seungmo, you don’t need to tell me—”

“—huge, colossal, major–”

“– I said you don’t need to tell me,” Minho sighs. When the fuck did he start making mistakes like this? He’d always trusted his gut, and now… “Well this is fucking great. Make sure Hyunjin gets there first thing tomorrow. I really want the security on that place reviewed.”

“I already messaged him and gave his number to Sam. He’ll be there before ten tomorrow. I’ll see if we can speed up the transfer to the family. Which means Father will have to get involved.”

“Great. I’ll look forward to that bollocking.”

“Sucks to be you. And somewhere in between all that I’ll dig into the rest of the accounts over the weekend, see if there's an indication of where the payments went.”

“Yeah, well, use protection.”

“Fuck you,” Seungmin says and ends the call.

Minho stares at the hood of his car for several moments. Lifts his phone from his pocket, rereads the messages from Jisung, taps out his own.

LM: You’re making a list? What you got so far?

The response swoops back almost instantly.

Ace: It’s a work in progress. So far, you’re Trouble. Capitalised.

Great, even a stranger knows what a fucking liability I am.

Ace: I want to do terribly explicit things to you. LM: I told you, not even on your best day…

“I’d make you beg,” Jisung says as soon as Minho answers. There is the sound of traffic and voices on the other end of the line.

“Well, ‘hello’ to you too,” Minho says in response.

Jisung hums down the phone, “I’m really not that drunk, you know.”

“Ah, but you’ve been drinking and I’d prefer you to be fully aware of what I’m doing to you in the moment.”

“I'm totally compos mentis, if that’s what you’re worried about. You could do anything you want to me without any guilt.” The traffic noise has quietened significantly, replaced by the sound of footsteps echoing off walls. The sound of raised voices in the distance. “I’d let you do anything.”

Minho leans his head back, adjusts his trousers.

“You still there?”

“Hmm. Keep talking.”

Even through the phone, Minho can hear the smile in his voice. Can picture it. His pretty lips. “Is it the sound of my voice you want to hear, or certain words and phrases?”

“I like the sound of your voice, but I like the things you’re saying.”

Jisung chuckles and the sound travels straight down between Minho’s thighs. “What are you doing now?”

“Sitting in my car.” Trying not to think about my dick.

“Just sitting? Don’t you have anywhere to go?” the shouts on the other end of the line are growing louder.

“I’m debating whether to come and get you.”

“Why the debate? Come and get me,” Jisung says.

Fuck. “I’ll ruin you.”

“Is that a promise?”

Fuck. “Tell me where you are.”

“I’m east of— hang on— OI!” Jisung's sudden shout is jarring. “What the fuck? Get the fuck away—”

There’s a male voice, “Fuck off!”

A different male voice, “Mind your business!”

A female scream, which sends a cold chill down Minho’s spine. “Jisung? What the fuck’s going on? Where the fuck are you?”

“I said get the fuck away from her!” there are more shouts, the sound of scuffling, a hard crack and the line goes dead.

Minho jams the car into drive, tyres screeching as he speeds eastwards in the direction of the club, scanning alleyways and side streets as he passes, looking for any sign of Jisung and no clue about where he was or where he was headed. He stabs at the console, trying to call Jisung back, but a feminine robotic voice says: I’m sorry, but the person you are trying to call is unavailable right now. Please try again later.

“FUCK!” Minho slaps the steering wheel, and catches sight of a young woman wearing a black dress sprinting into the road in bare feet. His tyres screech and smoke as he comes to a stop, the girl’s hands flat on the bonnet of his car. Her face stained with mascara, her lip bleeding, her left eye swelling. Minho reaches over to the passenger door, pushes it open. “Get in the car!” he yells at her.

She hesitates for only a second or two, looking over her shoulder before scrambling into the passenger seat. As soon as she is in, the door barely closed, Minho is jerking the car in the direction she appeared from, his lights illuminating a long alley too narrow for his car, and towards the back, he can see the silhouettes of five figures.

Minho drops his phone in the woman's lap, “Call the police!” he tells her as he leaps out of the car, his left hand in his pocket finds the birthday present Felix had gifted him last year; his brass knuckle duster.

He knocks the first guy out with a teeth shattering, blood splattering left hook, before the others realise he’s even there. He disarms the second one by dislocating his shoulder, then his knee for good measure. And now he sees Jisung, wide eyed and fucking furious, his lip is split and his teeth red. He’s standing on the neck of a third man, whilst punching the shit out of the fourth. Minho grabs the fourth into a headlock, digs his knee into his spine and Jisung punches him so hard Minho feels the impact in his chest as the man slumps and falls unconscious to the ground.

Minho bends forward, hands on his knees, the adrenaline firing through his blood. Jisung walks over to the right wall, where the fifth man is cowering, face bruised and bloodied. Judging by the unnatural angle of his hand, he has a broken arm. Bracing a hand on the wall, Jisung draws his foot back like an American football player and kicks the man full in the groin. It makes Minho wince. The cowering man slides sideways and curls in on himself and Jisung lines up another kick, but Minho steps forward, drops a hand on his shoulder.

Jisung, fist clenched, whirls on him, but Minho expects it, his forearm blocking Jisung’s. “That’s enough,” Minho says.

Jisung doesn’t look convinced, but his shoulders relax. He backs off from the man and starts scanning the floor of the alley, nudging arms and legs with the toe of his boot.

Minho looks at the carnage, “You tried to fight—” he counts quickly, “—six men? On your own?”

“I wasn’t trying, I was doing a bloody brilliant job. Ah-ha, found it,” he crouches down, lifts an object from the floor. It’s a mobile phone, he shows it to Minho, the screen is cracked. “Cunts.”

And Minho can’t help it, he laughs.

“We should find the girl, make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s in my car, calling the police.”

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, his lips pouting, as he gestures to the bruised, bloodied and broken men at his feet. “The police? Seriously?”

Minho sees his point.

Jisung rolls his eyes, starts walking towards the car at the top of the alley, the headlights shining through his silk shirt, so from here Minho can see the silhouette of his tiny waist. Jisung raises his hands level with his shoulders, approaches the car like you would approach an injured animal. He stoops down near the passenger door, “Hi my dear, are you okay? You’re safe now.”

Her wailing is too high pitched for Minho to understand her.

Minho pulls off his knuckle duster, drops it into his trouser pocket, and starts to walk back towards the car when he almost trips over a silver shoe. He figures it belongs to the woman in the car, looks for the other one, finds it a few feet away and a small black purse with a chain link handle. When he reaches the car, the passenger door is open and the girl is leaning against Jisung sobbing against his shoulder as Jisung strokes her long black hair and makes soft soothing noises against the top of her head. Minho passes Jisung the shoes and the bag, reaches into his back seat and pulls out his coat, “Here,” he says, as he drapes it over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” her tiny voice says, as she sniffles. The entirety of the left side of her face is purpling and swollen. Her tiny legs are cut and bruised and there are notable bruises on her arms that look like hand marks. Minho feels sick and angry and he really hopes that he and Jisung have succeeded in killing one or two of those cunts. His urge to go back down into the alley to ensure they had been successful is cut off by the sound of sirens in the distance.

“My dear,” Jisung says gently. Cupping the girls head and looking her in the eye that hasn’t swollen shut. “I am so so sorry, but we can’t be here when the police come. You understand that, don’t you?”

The girl sniffs, takes a shaky breath and nods. She steps out of the car and Jisung supports her and helps her sit on the pavement. She tries to take the coat off her shoulders, “No,” Minho says as gently as he can. “You keep hold of that.”

Her smile is wan as she nods and pulls his coat tighter around her shoulders.

Minho scans the area, the sirens drawing closer. “See that broken lamppost over there?” he points at a side street across the road. “We’ll be right there. We won’t go anywhere until we know you’re safe.”

The girl nods again and Jisung smiles warmly up at Minho.

Minho gets into the car, reverses it a few feet with the passenger door still open, lifts his phone off the passenger seat and waits for Jisung who is still speaking to the girl. Stroking her hair gently. The sirens are uncomfortably close now, Minho can make out the lights reflecting off buildings in the distance.

Finally, Jisung jogs over to the car, slips in and pulls the door closed. His eyes never leave the girl as Minho pulls alongside the side street, reverses into it to stop under the broken streetlight, just as he promised her. He kills the engine, blanketing them in darkness.

A police car arrives first, a female officer sits on the pavement with the girl and holds her as she sobs and her colleague, flashlight and gun drawn, enters the alley. He returns a minute later, speaking into his radio and they are clearly asking the girl what happened and she is pointing the opposite direction to where Minho’s car is sitting.

“Good girl,” Jisung says quietly.

Another police car arrives and the male colleague of the female officer points in the direction the girl had. Sirens wailing, the second car tears off in that direction. Now, an ambulance arrives, and the female officer, with support from a paramedic, help her into the back of it, and now the girl looks at them, smiles feebly and waves and Minho can breathe again, knowing that she is now safe.

“Did they…” he can’t bring himself to finish the question.

“No, I came across them before they…” Jisung can’t bring himself to finish the answer.

They remain in the car, watching from a comfortable distance as more police cars and ambulances arrive. They can hear the groans and moans of the men as they are loaded onto stretchers. It appears to Minho that the paramedics, especially the female ones, aren’t too worried about giving them pain meds or being gentle with them. Each ambulance departs carrying one patient and one police officer.

Jisung looks down at his hands. Blood is crusted on his skin, his knuckles torn to shreds. He looks at his shirt, blood spatter joining the leopard print spots. “I really liked this shirt,” he sighs.

Smiling, Minho starts the engine, pulls out of the side street slowly, wary that there may be officers still in the vicinity.

“Where are we going?”

“My place.”

“I’m really not in the mood.”

“Neither am I. But you look like you could do with something to eat. Maybe a shower?”

“Hmm,” Jisung leans his head against the passenger window. “I am hungry.”

“Put your seatbelt on.”

TASTE M.List & Sypnosis

Chapter 1 - Parley

Chapter 3 - Broken Compass

#TASTE | Minsung #skz fic #Lee Minho #Han Jisung #Christopher Bahng #Bang Chan #Changbin #Seungmin #Hyunjin #Felix #Jeongin #Soonie #Stray Kids Fan Fiction #Mafia AU #Romeo x Romeo

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