After an accident that leaves Yeosang injured and his brother dead, he flees the state, finding unhealthy outlets for his emotions. Finding himself deep in debt, he needs a quick way to make a lot of money
Seonghwa has lived his entire life seeking...
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"And yet he never communicated with me in the first place!"
"I know, he's insufferable. I'm going to fire him next chance I get."
"No, believe me that's not necessary."
"Yes, I'm getting on it."
"Yes."
"Of course."
"No, really don't worry about it."
"Spare me the details."
"Alright, call me when you hear from him."
Dead quiet once the phone was slammed into its holder, and San ran his tongue over his chapped lips as he turned his office chair to face the door.
"You can come in, Wooyoung." The door slid so effortlessly to reveal the boy standing there, wearing a tight shirt tucked into his black jeans, and San ushered him over to sit beside him.
"I didn't think it was polite to listen in on your conversation." He commented sarcastically, giving him a provocative gaze, which San simply disregarded at first notice.
"Oh we're beyond that, aren't we? I have no secrets." Wooyoung lifted his mouth into a weak smile, feeling the texture of the desk which wrapped around the room to create a very modern and sleek effect. The design something Wooyoung prided himself in creating, and San was very pleased with his work. Each screen a different size to emphasize the importance of certain views as the footage stretched across the main wall. He had everyone there to observe.
"They're boring already, I'm not sure if this was the best idea." Wooyoung whined in a tone which would make San angry most of the time, but he simply responded coldly.
"I did my research, they are most certainly not boring. Don't question me, Woo, I've been stressed enough as it is." San felt Wooyoung's careful stare to the side of his head, but he didn't face him again.
"And there isn't a person in the whole world who could help you." Wooyoung dramatically spun in his chair with the back of his hand pressed against his forehead in a stereotypical theatre pose. San pushed his chair far to the side, only for Wooyoung to scoot back pathetically to rejoin him with his work.
"I wouldn't give yourself any credit." San snipped, handing him a paper to sign, which he did quickly with a very effective ink pen which he had been growing fond of. San noticed these things about him, whether or not he truly wanted to. Still, he wouldn't make eye contact, instead focusing on the serum mixing agonizingly slow in a small bowl on the desk in front of him. He handed Wooyoung another paper to sign before he pulled out a small syringe to gather all of the liquid.
"What am I putting my name on?" He signed regardless, the contents of which he signed covered by a thick piece of card-stock to only reveal the signature line.
"Don't you know better than to ask?" San finally turned to look at him properly, and lingered with careful eyes before handing him the syringe. The liquid was orange, festering and changing shades as it bubbled in the barrel. Wooyoung smirked, and intercepted the syringe in order to place it in the container which held the rest of them. San went back to adding the ingredients to start another batch. He worked tirelessly to provide one and an extra for each patient attending the experiment that day.
