forty nine

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it's getting twisted
love and hate

SOMEWHERE ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF CHEONAN

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SOMEWHERE ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF CHEONAN

THREE YEARS EARLIER

They had just gotten out of sight of the road when Baekhyun's phone rang.

He didn't flinch, but his muscles tensed from the force of preventing it as the sharp sound cut through the air like the blade of the dagger. The boy with him glanced at Baekhyun with wide, alarmed eyes, but the blond shook his head placatingly as he pulled out the cell.

The call was on a separate phone he'd purchased to prevent being tracked, but calls were rare and still annoyed him, because it was usually someone he didn't want to talk to. If he had wanted to talk to them, he had a perfectly good burner he could use and dump.

This time, though, the number was one he recognized. Baekhyun's expression went slack as he saw it, and he had to take a deep breath and hold up a hand for the other boy, indicating him to be quiet as he took the call.

"You shouldn't have called," he murmured into the speaker, sharp eyes flicking around the house they'd ended up in. It belonged to one of his older contacts, from before his life had gone to shit and turned into a perpetual game of cat and mouse.

"That hurt my feelings," the man on the other end of the line joked, and Baekhyun felt his eyes narrow further at the nonchalant tone he assumed. "You couldn't have started by asking me how I was doing?"

"I think we both know how you're doing," Baekhyun said calmly, moving out of earshot. The boy watched him go with wary eyes, but didn't make a move to follow him. He was surprisingly sensible for someone so young. Baekhyun moved towards the window, knowing no one would be able to hear him past the sound of traffic. It was still daytime, sunlight filtering through the thin curtains with barely diminished force. He usually preferred to move during the nighttime, but the suddenness of the last ambush had left him no choice. "Cut the pleasantries and cut to the chase."

"Couldn't I have just called to see how you were doing?" Jaejoong asked, and Baekhyun rolled his eyes.

"You should know how I'm doing," he said, voice barely controlled. He was usually in good control of his emotions, but all he wanted to do at that moment was snap. The job had left him exhausted, spent, and bloody, and the open wound on his bicep still stung on contact with the hot noon air. "You're the one who sent the goons who left me within an inch of my life."

"I didn't send them, they elected to go on their own." Jaejoong's voice was soothing, but he knew how quickly that could change. "Why would I send people after you when I know I don't need to?"

"Get to the point."

The heir obliged. "You have the boy?"

Against his better instincts, Baekhyun glanced behind his shoulder. Hyunjin was leaning against the sink in the kitchen with only a jacket thrown over his shoulders, running water from the tap over his white t-shirt which had been soiled with blood. His face was expressionless, but the muscles in his throat were taut, almost as if he knew what Baekhyun was talking about.

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