Namjoon is searching for something to fill the annoying little gap in his chest, but he doesn't know what he's searching for. Maybe the strange blue-haired magician from the circus, that's currently visiting Seoul, can help him find the answer to hi...
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He was sitting on a small bench of a street diner in a narrow alley and slurped on his noodle soup. Hong Kong was a busy city and the air in the small street was vibrating from chatting voices and rushing people. But still he had noticed the strange guy that was watching him intensely. The boy could barely be older than twenty. Soft sand hair framed his distractingly symmetrical face, but what drove him nuts were those golden eyes. He was not Chinese. He was Korean. This fact made it even more uncomfortable to be watched by the guy.
"What's up, Hope?" his brother asked him while stuffing his mouth with the same noodles like him. He was not his biological brother, but triad was family, and Shun was the brother he spent the most time with.
"There's a guy staring at me," he growled and looked at said boy from the corner of his eye.
"Trouble?" Shun asked.
"No, just annoying," he answered and continued eating.
But the sand-haired would not leave. Even when he had finished his bowl and brought it back to the old lady who owned the diner, the boy was staring at him.
"Wait a sec," he murmured towards Shun and walked over to the guy.
With his hands in the pockets of his jeans and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, he stepped in front of the stranger.
"What's your problem, pervert?" he hissed at the man in Korean and looked down at the annoyingly beautiful face.
"I'm sorry, Sir," another guy with chubby cheeks and an ugly burning scar on his face intervened and stepped between them, "He's a little strange sometimes. We'll go now. Excuse us."
But he did not care for the brabbled excuses and shoved the small man aside, making him trip and fall. When his eyes went back to the blonde one, he was greeted by a furious face and rage-filled eyes. Hell, what the fuck happened? Before he could move a finger, he was on his back and the blonde kneeled between his legs, long strong fingers curling around his neck. Was that guy for real? Beginner...
He grabbed the attacker's wrists, and with a quick movement, he pulled off the right hand and swung his right leg over the other's shoulder. Another hit against the second arm that still pressed on his windpipe made the arm bend and he fixed his left foot in the pit of his right knee. Now he had all the time of the world to choke the other to unconsciousness between his thighs. What a dork. The tattoos had clearly been visible from under his collar, so why would a boy as unexperienced as this one challenge a triad man? Was he dumb? To give it the kick it needed he reached for the other's head to pull it down and cut his air supply completely.
"That's enough," he heard a husky voice, and all his muscles froze. He was unable to do anything. The blonde was still trapped between his legs and his hands were mid-air, but he no longer had control over his body.
Another Korean guy appeared in his sight. He had yellow-ish hair and the black cigarette he held between his fingers was surrounding him with sand-colored mist. The soft scent of warm sand swamped over him when the smoker leaned down. The black orbs fixated him and for some seconds the latter just stared at him.
"You'll come to our performance this evening," he stated, "Otherwise I'll freeze you permanently and let you starve to death."
If he had been able to move a muscle, he would have growled and punched the man in his pale face to leave some red marks. But instead he had to watch the yellow mob push a ticket into one of his hands. His gaze went past the ticket and towards the one he was choking. Damn idiot! This was all because of him. Defeated by a skinny guy in an old suit. This was degrading.
But the golden eyes looked at him innocently, even puppy-like, though his head and one arm was squished between his legs. The burning rage he had seen in those weird orbs was gone.
"Now, let V go," the raspy voice said and he felt his muscles loosening. Like a bundle of numb limbs, he slid off the sand-haired boy and lied on the street. Again, he was unable to move, but this was even more embarrassing because he looked like a weak potato bag. He would kill those guys. No one could take him serious after this defeat.
But the golden-boy just looked at him with those annoyingly pure eyes when they lefthim behind. What a weirdo. V it was?
