Post by Nyeo Son on Jan 7, 2018 17:57:11 GMT
Korean Honorifics:
Hyung = older male (sign of respect)
Dongsaeng = younger, unisex
The sunlight shone in through a gap between the curtain and window, drawing an extended groan from the young man lying in his bed as the thin sliver of light lines up with his bloodshot eyes. He looked around the room, bewildered for a moment before his hungover brain catches up with the fact that he’s not in Suwon anymore, he’d moved into an H.S.S-owned apartment in New York early yesterday before going out to scout out the bar scene in the area.
Must’ve been another late night, although from the smell of the bed, it had not been a lonely one; he wondered if the visitor had been a guy or a girl, the smell left behind didn’t really give definite proof either way. Nyeo slowly rolled out of bed, standing up and trying to find some clothes. He winced as he stood up; it’d been a guy then; dammit, he hated lying to his friends, who’d no doubt ask him about how last night went. At least they hadn’t seen them walk off with the guy this time, since they got to America later than him and were busy unpacking while he was partying, which meant he could just tell them he’d slept with a girl rather than having to create some convoluted story about a the guy wanting him for a threeway with his girlfriend, still; it sucked to lie to his friends.
That was when he heard sizzling from the kitchen; he frowned, quickly throwing on a pair of underwear and swiping his sanguine hair out of his eyes, the remaining hair wax from last night keeping it there, though it doubtlessly looked terrible. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, walking gingerly to keep the pain from shooting from his… lower back. Once in the kitchen he stops for a moment, doing a double-take, then a triple-take. Because inside his kitchen, standing in nothing but boxers and an ill-fitting apron, was a guy. He seemed familiar enough, probably meaning he was the guy from last night, so the “who” was solved, but the “why” remained.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Perhaps not the most diplomatic start to the conversation, but given the fact that the sun was up, his friends could be coming over at any second.
The guy turned around, the small apron covering more of his chiseled body, and gave the most infuriatingly charmed smile. “It’s called an omelette, sleepy”
It was too early, FAR too early, for this shit. “I know what an omelette is, but you can’t be here!”
His anger and slight desperation seemed to get through to the man, shocking him out of his happy state, good; he needed to get the fuck out. “W-what do you mean, I thought you’d enjoy me seeing this as more than a pump-and-dump-”
“-Oh yeah, because there’s no way a guy dressing slutty before going and and offering sex to anything that moves couldn’t possibly be looking for quick, no-strings-attached sex. You fucking dipshit.” He didn’t mean to be that harsh, but fuck it, it wasn’t his fucking fault that if his friends found out, then they were going to overreact and probably tell something in the Mob, who’d definitely tell his father or another leader and indirectly end his life, possibly not only metaphorically.
“I-i really don’t get you man… Why do you need me out of here so bad?”
“Because my friends are coming!” The anger was slipping from his voice, his friends had probably not even partied last night, meaning they were not having to shake off their hangover before visiting.
“What does it matter if your friends are- ...-Oh...” The confusion leaves the man's eyes, and the tension his muscles.
“Yeah, “Oh” is right you fucking babuya!” a confused expression flits over his face. “It- it means idiot”
“Oh.” The confusion changes to minor offence.
God dammit, Nyeo, you’re being an ass again, this guy isn’t against you.
He leans against the wall, rubbing his aching temples. “Look, you seem like a nice guy, great guy, but I need you to get the fuck out of here before someone comes by, j-just please leave…” there were definitely no tears in his eyes, and his voice had NOT wavered.
The man pauses for a moment before turning off the stove and dumping the omelette on a plate. He slowly walks over to Nyeo while taking off the apron, which hardly helped the koreans’ conflicted feelings. He didn’t stop until he was just inches away, he was tall. He bent down and kissed Nyeo on the forehead, brushing the hair away from his eyes while doing it, before giving him a sad smile and walking towards the bedroom to gather up his clothes.
When he came back, Nyeo realized just how different New York was from Sowon, he was wearing tight black jeans and an even tighter t-shirt, which just happened to be hot pink. Nyeo knew he wasn’t exactly the least conspicuous dresser, but he wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.
The shock must’ve been visible on his face because the man smirked at him. “America is the freest country on Earth, giving me the freedom to dress as stereotypical as I want.” He commented as he put on his black leather jacket. He opened the door, then seemed to remember something, walking back to Nyeo and pulling out a small, folded-up piece of paper, handing it to him and then walking back towards the door.
The paper contained a string of digits, a phone number. “Give me call if you want to talk, I know what you’re going through. Oh! And it’s Alex, by the way, although that ‘babyna’-”
“Babuya.”
“Yeah, that, you can keep calling me that, was kinda cute.”
He flashed a toothy grin before walking out, the door shutting behind him.
‘I know what you’re going through’ yeah, right… His hand tensed up to crinkle the paper, but he doesn’t, instead he folds it up and places it in his back pocket. “Just in case…”
Alex had left just in the nick of time, Nyeo had barely had enough time to pull on his clothes from last night, tight and black with red detailing, his signature style, and fix his hair so that it still looked freshly-fucked, but in a less terrible way before the group burst through his door, apparently having gotten a spare key from someone in the Mob. The seven continued to laugh and giggle at some joke spoken before their entrance until they see Nyeo, leaning against the wall and smiling at their antics. When they spot their leader, one after another they straighten up and each adopt their own, eclectic version of a salute.
“Oh Captain, my… huge fucking man-whore” The man in the center speaks, sporting a matching smirk on his face as he thumps his fist twice on his chest.
Kim Nam-joon, defacto 2nd-in-command of the Cheong-Nyeo mob, viciously intelligent and the only person in the group who was a faster talker than Nyeo himself. If not for his unquestionable loyalty, he’d be a problem, but with it, he was a tremendous asset to him personally, and in the future, he’d be an even bigger asset to the H.S.S Mob proper.
“Respect your Hyung, Joonie; that tongue will get you into trouble.” Nyeo doesn’t hold the ice in his comment, he doesn’t really care, in fact he kinda likes those jokes, but Namjoon needs to learn to at least fake respect in semi-official situations like this one.
“Well it can’t only get me into girls beds, can it?” They all chuckled, but Nyeo could see the regretful apology in his friends eyes, and let it go without damage to the mans’ dignity.
“Well, let’s all have a seat; Jimin, the alcohol is in the brown cabinet in the kitchen, you know what we all want.”
“You got it, boss.”
The other 6 followed Nyeo into into the living room, with two armchairs and two, matching couches. Nyeo sat down in the nearest one, and one of his boys made his way towards the other one, but froze when he saw Namjoon moving towards that same one, and bowed quickly before moving off to sit on a couch.
“So… You’re really doing this wrestling thing, aren’t you?” Namjoon seemed hesitant to bring it up, knowing it was on the boundary of being disrespectful. Him and Nyeo barely noticed as Jimin brought in a platter of drinks, setting it down, careful not to make a sound before taking his seat in one of the couches.
“No Joonie, I moved to America and got hired by the hottest company in the business because I’m just kidding with this whole ‘wrestling thing’.” The words were spoken with all the sarcasm that the young man could muster, but the glint in his eyes keeps the others from getting alarmed. “Although…” He sighs and swipes the hair out of his eyes. “I don’t think the owner takes me seriously yet, I mean just look at the fucking weirdos they paired me up against. Chaos and Leo, a nutcase who thinks he’s from ancient Greece and someone who got lost in the desert and ended up with a messiah-complex, they should be in a nuthouse rather than the ring with me.”
“Wait, do they actually believe that stuff about themselves? I thought they were just playing characters, what the fuck is wrong with America?” Namjoon looks
“Well, I’m sure it earns the company bank to have a freakshow for the fans to watch, but I’ll have to crush these two to prove that I’m above their level, to make sure that I get real opponents from now, and leave misters Heat stroke and Bankruptcy behind in the middle of the card.”
“M-mister B-bankruptcy?” Jimin didn’t know if it was okay to talk, his insecure was voice actually kinda cute, so Nyeo felt he had to forgive him. Besides, they were basically just shittalking now, hardly an official matter.
“You need to be more informed on current events, dongsaeng; at the moment, Greece is going through some monetary troubles. To be perfectly honest it’s not surprising that Chaos would want to think that he’s from a time when his people were less… shit.”
The other guys laughed, tension in the room broken, Nyeo had established that the official business was over and everyone finally reached for their different drinks.
“Be careful there, Kookie; drink that fast and you might think that you’ve been possessed by the Spirit of Life!” The whole group burst out laughing, Jeon “Kookie” Jungkook so much that he blows mojito out of his nostrils, causing the others to laugh even more as he furiously apologizes and rushes to clean up the mess.
Namjoon stands up with a sigh, cracking his neck before turning to Nyeo. “So, are we going out to party or what? You had all of last night here, you gotta show us where the good drinks and hot chicks are.”
Nyeo gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but tonight it’s the gym for me, I need to be in perfect shape so I make an example out of these two, beating them isn’t enough, I need to show that I am in another league! Besides, the bar I went to last night was a total bust, nothing for you guys, I got lucky and found a girl who hated it as much as I did.”
“Well alright boss, make us proud on monday, we’ll find a good spot to celebrate after your win.” Namjoon does a salute and gestures for the others to follow as he moves towards the door.
“You better make sure they make good cocktails, or I’ll send you back to Suwon!”
“Yeah, no you won’t Hyung, we all know you won’t”
...Guess he’s right, at that. He might not be able to trust them with everything, but they were his friends, his rise to the top was their rise to the top, and he didn’t intend to leave them all stranded, they were going to have the whole world in their hands, one way or another.
Hyung = older male (sign of respect)
Dongsaeng = younger, unisex
The sunlight shone in through a gap between the curtain and window, drawing an extended groan from the young man lying in his bed as the thin sliver of light lines up with his bloodshot eyes. He looked around the room, bewildered for a moment before his hungover brain catches up with the fact that he’s not in Suwon anymore, he’d moved into an H.S.S-owned apartment in New York early yesterday before going out to scout out the bar scene in the area.
Must’ve been another late night, although from the smell of the bed, it had not been a lonely one; he wondered if the visitor had been a guy or a girl, the smell left behind didn’t really give definite proof either way. Nyeo slowly rolled out of bed, standing up and trying to find some clothes. He winced as he stood up; it’d been a guy then; dammit, he hated lying to his friends, who’d no doubt ask him about how last night went. At least they hadn’t seen them walk off with the guy this time, since they got to America later than him and were busy unpacking while he was partying, which meant he could just tell them he’d slept with a girl rather than having to create some convoluted story about a the guy wanting him for a threeway with his girlfriend, still; it sucked to lie to his friends.
That was when he heard sizzling from the kitchen; he frowned, quickly throwing on a pair of underwear and swiping his sanguine hair out of his eyes, the remaining hair wax from last night keeping it there, though it doubtlessly looked terrible. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, walking gingerly to keep the pain from shooting from his… lower back. Once in the kitchen he stops for a moment, doing a double-take, then a triple-take. Because inside his kitchen, standing in nothing but boxers and an ill-fitting apron, was a guy. He seemed familiar enough, probably meaning he was the guy from last night, so the “who” was solved, but the “why” remained.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Perhaps not the most diplomatic start to the conversation, but given the fact that the sun was up, his friends could be coming over at any second.
The guy turned around, the small apron covering more of his chiseled body, and gave the most infuriatingly charmed smile. “It’s called an omelette, sleepy”
It was too early, FAR too early, for this shit. “I know what an omelette is, but you can’t be here!”
His anger and slight desperation seemed to get through to the man, shocking him out of his happy state, good; he needed to get the fuck out. “W-what do you mean, I thought you’d enjoy me seeing this as more than a pump-and-dump-”
“-Oh yeah, because there’s no way a guy dressing slutty before going and and offering sex to anything that moves couldn’t possibly be looking for quick, no-strings-attached sex. You fucking dipshit.” He didn’t mean to be that harsh, but fuck it, it wasn’t his fucking fault that if his friends found out, then they were going to overreact and probably tell something in the Mob, who’d definitely tell his father or another leader and indirectly end his life, possibly not only metaphorically.
“I-i really don’t get you man… Why do you need me out of here so bad?”
“Because my friends are coming!” The anger was slipping from his voice, his friends had probably not even partied last night, meaning they were not having to shake off their hangover before visiting.
“What does it matter if your friends are- ...-Oh...” The confusion leaves the man's eyes, and the tension his muscles.
“Yeah, “Oh” is right you fucking babuya!” a confused expression flits over his face. “It- it means idiot”
“Oh.” The confusion changes to minor offence.
God dammit, Nyeo, you’re being an ass again, this guy isn’t against you.
He leans against the wall, rubbing his aching temples. “Look, you seem like a nice guy, great guy, but I need you to get the fuck out of here before someone comes by, j-just please leave…” there were definitely no tears in his eyes, and his voice had NOT wavered.
The man pauses for a moment before turning off the stove and dumping the omelette on a plate. He slowly walks over to Nyeo while taking off the apron, which hardly helped the koreans’ conflicted feelings. He didn’t stop until he was just inches away, he was tall. He bent down and kissed Nyeo on the forehead, brushing the hair away from his eyes while doing it, before giving him a sad smile and walking towards the bedroom to gather up his clothes.
When he came back, Nyeo realized just how different New York was from Sowon, he was wearing tight black jeans and an even tighter t-shirt, which just happened to be hot pink. Nyeo knew he wasn’t exactly the least conspicuous dresser, but he wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.
The shock must’ve been visible on his face because the man smirked at him. “America is the freest country on Earth, giving me the freedom to dress as stereotypical as I want.” He commented as he put on his black leather jacket. He opened the door, then seemed to remember something, walking back to Nyeo and pulling out a small, folded-up piece of paper, handing it to him and then walking back towards the door.
The paper contained a string of digits, a phone number. “Give me call if you want to talk, I know what you’re going through. Oh! And it’s Alex, by the way, although that ‘babyna’-”
“Babuya.”
“Yeah, that, you can keep calling me that, was kinda cute.”
He flashed a toothy grin before walking out, the door shutting behind him.
‘I know what you’re going through’ yeah, right… His hand tensed up to crinkle the paper, but he doesn’t, instead he folds it up and places it in his back pocket. “Just in case…”
Alex had left just in the nick of time, Nyeo had barely had enough time to pull on his clothes from last night, tight and black with red detailing, his signature style, and fix his hair so that it still looked freshly-fucked, but in a less terrible way before the group burst through his door, apparently having gotten a spare key from someone in the Mob. The seven continued to laugh and giggle at some joke spoken before their entrance until they see Nyeo, leaning against the wall and smiling at their antics. When they spot their leader, one after another they straighten up and each adopt their own, eclectic version of a salute.
“Oh Captain, my… huge fucking man-whore” The man in the center speaks, sporting a matching smirk on his face as he thumps his fist twice on his chest.
Kim Nam-joon, defacto 2nd-in-command of the Cheong-Nyeo mob, viciously intelligent and the only person in the group who was a faster talker than Nyeo himself. If not for his unquestionable loyalty, he’d be a problem, but with it, he was a tremendous asset to him personally, and in the future, he’d be an even bigger asset to the H.S.S Mob proper.
“Respect your Hyung, Joonie; that tongue will get you into trouble.” Nyeo doesn’t hold the ice in his comment, he doesn’t really care, in fact he kinda likes those jokes, but Namjoon needs to learn to at least fake respect in semi-official situations like this one.
“Well it can’t only get me into girls beds, can it?” They all chuckled, but Nyeo could see the regretful apology in his friends eyes, and let it go without damage to the mans’ dignity.
“Well, let’s all have a seat; Jimin, the alcohol is in the brown cabinet in the kitchen, you know what we all want.”
“You got it, boss.”
The other 6 followed Nyeo into into the living room, with two armchairs and two, matching couches. Nyeo sat down in the nearest one, and one of his boys made his way towards the other one, but froze when he saw Namjoon moving towards that same one, and bowed quickly before moving off to sit on a couch.
“So… You’re really doing this wrestling thing, aren’t you?” Namjoon seemed hesitant to bring it up, knowing it was on the boundary of being disrespectful. Him and Nyeo barely noticed as Jimin brought in a platter of drinks, setting it down, careful not to make a sound before taking his seat in one of the couches.
“No Joonie, I moved to America and got hired by the hottest company in the business because I’m just kidding with this whole ‘wrestling thing’.” The words were spoken with all the sarcasm that the young man could muster, but the glint in his eyes keeps the others from getting alarmed. “Although…” He sighs and swipes the hair out of his eyes. “I don’t think the owner takes me seriously yet, I mean just look at the fucking weirdos they paired me up against. Chaos and Leo, a nutcase who thinks he’s from ancient Greece and someone who got lost in the desert and ended up with a messiah-complex, they should be in a nuthouse rather than the ring with me.”
“Wait, do they actually believe that stuff about themselves? I thought they were just playing characters, what the fuck is wrong with America?” Namjoon looks
“Well, I’m sure it earns the company bank to have a freakshow for the fans to watch, but I’ll have to crush these two to prove that I’m above their level, to make sure that I get real opponents from now, and leave misters Heat stroke and Bankruptcy behind in the middle of the card.”
“M-mister B-bankruptcy?” Jimin didn’t know if it was okay to talk, his insecure was voice actually kinda cute, so Nyeo felt he had to forgive him. Besides, they were basically just shittalking now, hardly an official matter.
“You need to be more informed on current events, dongsaeng; at the moment, Greece is going through some monetary troubles. To be perfectly honest it’s not surprising that Chaos would want to think that he’s from a time when his people were less… shit.”
The other guys laughed, tension in the room broken, Nyeo had established that the official business was over and everyone finally reached for their different drinks.
“Be careful there, Kookie; drink that fast and you might think that you’ve been possessed by the Spirit of Life!” The whole group burst out laughing, Jeon “Kookie” Jungkook so much that he blows mojito out of his nostrils, causing the others to laugh even more as he furiously apologizes and rushes to clean up the mess.
Namjoon stands up with a sigh, cracking his neck before turning to Nyeo. “So, are we going out to party or what? You had all of last night here, you gotta show us where the good drinks and hot chicks are.”
Nyeo gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but tonight it’s the gym for me, I need to be in perfect shape so I make an example out of these two, beating them isn’t enough, I need to show that I am in another league! Besides, the bar I went to last night was a total bust, nothing for you guys, I got lucky and found a girl who hated it as much as I did.”
“Well alright boss, make us proud on monday, we’ll find a good spot to celebrate after your win.” Namjoon does a salute and gestures for the others to follow as he moves towards the door.
“You better make sure they make good cocktails, or I’ll send you back to Suwon!”
“Yeah, no you won’t Hyung, we all know you won’t”
...Guess he’s right, at that. He might not be able to trust them with everything, but they were his friends, his rise to the top was their rise to the top, and he didn’t intend to leave them all stranded, they were going to have the whole world in their hands, one way or another.