BBK Ch 11

Even in broad daylight, the neighborhood looked sinister. The clear visibility only amplified the sense of desolation. Minho, with his arm resting on the fully lowered car window instead of using the AC, enjoyed the cool breeze that intermittently swept in as they passed under the shade of the trees. Autumn was approaching.

“Winter will be here soon.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Winter was a season of amplified exhaustion. The long nights and short days made the sleepless hours feel especially drawn out. Maybe this winter he’d get a new prescription for sleeping pills. He occasionally resorted to medication during the winter months, but he never fully relied on them. Too many lives had been ruined by pills, and he wanted to avoid dependence on anything or anyone.

“I’m planning to stay at your place this winter. Is that okay?”

Minho, who had been leaning back in his seat, gazing out the window, quickly turned his head.

“Why are you always wandering around when you have a perfectly good home?”

“It’s cold when I’m alone.”

Gyuoh drawled, slowly turning the steering wheel. His features appeared hazy, even though he was close by. Maybe Minho’s eyes were just tired.

“Why? Is it not okay?”

“…”

Minho didn’t answer. Won Gyuoh practically lived at his place anyway. Suddenly refusing him would seem too deliberate, given their…secret. He stalled, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand. A hand suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled it down.

“Who are you planning to bring home that I can’t stay?”

As expected, the question veered off in a strange direction. Though neither of them let on, they were both clearly conscious of it. The secret they shared.

“People say things happen when you spend too much time together, you know. Haven’t you heard?”

Gyuoh inhaled sharply through his teeth and blinked slowly. Three men, one with a male lover, another who exclusively slept with men. The guy stuck in the middle probably wouldn’t understand the implications, but it was best to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings.

“So, limit your visits. There are a lot of eyes watching.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

A stubbornness tinged his indifferent voice.

“Anyway, I’ll take your silence as a yes unless there’s a specific reason?”

But Won Gyuoh was Won Gyuoh. Knowing his personality, he would probably barge in even if Minho refused. It was better to conserve his energy now; arguing later would be more tiring.

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Whoa, that’s some strong language.”

“…Ha.”

“So, doing whatever the fuck I want… does that mean doing whatever my dick wants?”

He continued to chatter noisily, questioning the sanity of the person who coined the phrase. Dick, cock, prick. Minho quietly rolled up the window, wary of eavesdroppers.

“Fast and safe arrival, as always.”

The car stopped in front of a building Gyuoh had frequented. As Minho unbuckled his seatbelt, a hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Startled by the sudden contact, Minho flinched, but Gyuoh leaned closer, closing the distance between them.

“…Hey.”

As Minho squirmed, trying to pull his hand free, a low voice brushed against his ear.

“They’re watching us from the window.”

It was a whispered warning, but the proximity was the problem. Gyuoh was so close that his breath tickled Minho’s ear, and the scent of his cologne filled his nostrils.

“I know. Move.”

“Ah, sorry.”

As if just realizing how close they were, Gyuoh flinched, surprised. Minho pushed against his broad shoulders and quickly turned away, practically fleeing the car. Once outside, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about such a thing before. But lately, every little bit of physical contact felt strangely unsettling.

Clearing his throat, Gyuoh got out of the car and strode ahead. The old building reeked of a musty odor, and the damp air clung to his feet. Trash littered the stairwell; no one seemed to care about cleaning it up. If they truly cared about this place, they wouldn’t have left it in such a state. Their sole motivation being money was crystal clear.

“Do any of these guys ring a bell?”

Minho glanced sideways at the casually tossed question. He’d only managed to match faces and names after reviewing the list. These were people he had erased from his memory. Some of their numbers might still be in his phone, but they would be saved as meaningless strings of digits, not names.

“…I don’t know.”

Minho shrugged, evading the question.

“I didn’t either, but then I saw them, and I remembered. Remember that bald guy who used to harass me? He has hair now, but his face is exactly the same. Guess it wasn’t actually balding.”

He chattered as if sharing a secret. A few scenes flickered in Minho’s memory. Back when Gyuoh was being bullied, Minho mostly stayed in his office. Because of that, he’d witnessed a few incidents.

Their reason for tormenting Won Gyuoh was childish. Gyuoh was fearless and carried out any order from higher-ups, regardless of the risk. He was also affable and well-liked, which irritated them. They lacked the courage to do what he did, and they resented his recognition.

Of course, true to his nature, Gyuoh didn’t take it lying down. He teased, taunted, and got under their skin, earning him even more animosity. Among his tormentors, the one on the third floor was particularly cruel.

“I’ll know when I see them.”

“You’ll recognize him. He has hair now, but it looks unnatural, like a wig.”

Was it actually a wig? Gyuoh pondered this new question as he bounded up the stairs two or three at a time. He quickly reached a frosted glass door and opened it for Minho.

The smell of stale cigarette smoke wafted out. Minho immediately recognized the formerly bald guy, now with a mop of hair. He had the same face, despite his current shaggy hairstyle.

“Oh?”

“…”

He remembered. The guy who had come to him with condoms even during the internal power struggles within Seongtak. The persistent one who had pursued him even after Minho rammed him with his car. Minho’s bloodshot eyes scanned the room. Aside from Shaggy Hair, a few other faces were familiar.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

The atmosphere froze as if doused with cold water upon Minho’s arrival. Shaggy Hair finally spoke, acknowledging him, and Minho simply raised a hand in response.

“He said he wouldn’t talk to me. So, I brought someone who he will.”

“…”

“Someone even more senior than you seniors.”

Gyuoh was speaking, but everyone’s eyes were on Minho. Some gazes were hostile, while others held a subtle, leering quality.

“But are you going to treat him like this? You can’t treat him like you treated me.”

Gyuoh gestured casually towards a man standing some distance away. Acting as if he belonged to this group, the dull-looking man hesitantly brought a chair and placed it before Minho.

“…”

Minho vaguely recalled using that man as a driver. A rainy late night, having sex in the car on the way home, then transferring him to another team at daybreak…probably. The memory was hazy, so he could have been brazen, but Gyuoh’s presence made him inexplicably uncomfortable.

Oblivious to this, Gyuoh blew on the chair, wiped the dust off with his hand, and gestured towards it like a waiter.

“Have a seat?”

“…”

Even those few steps to the chair felt suffocating under the weight of all the stares. He had initially identified two awkward encounters on the list, but it seemed there were three. As if they had intentionally gathered everyone Cha Minho had slept with.

His rule was to avoid seeing anyone he’d slept with again, and even if unavoidable, he usually managed to act nonchalant. This group encounter, however, was the biggest curveball of his promiscuous life. To make matters worse, Won Gyuoh, who had recently taken an excessive interest in his private life, was glued to his side. The situation was more awkward than anticipated.

“Learn something today. What you’re doing is throwing a tantrum, not negotiating.”

Gyuoh sat on the ping pong table, arms crossed, a relaxed smile on his face. He clearly expected Minho to play his cards, apply pressure, and calmly achieve the desired outcome, as they always did.

“Right, right. Cha Minho needs to handle this.”

Shaggy Hair, grinning, revealing his crooked teeth, pulled a chair closer. He leaned his chest against the backrest and rested his chin on his hand. The stench of stale cigarettes stung Minho’s nostrils.

“You’ve lost a lot of muscle, haven’t you? I almost didn’t recognize you. And what’s with the dark circles?”

“…”

“You still smell good, though, huh?”

He leered at Minho before leaning in close, whispering in his ear, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Still picking fresh peppers, I see?”

The smell of cigarettes intensified with every word. It wasn’t this bad before. He felt nauseous.

“Ha.”

Minho pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and sighed. Then he pushed Shaggy Hair away with his fingertips.

“Get lost.”