An uncomfortable twinge of uneasiness enveloped his obedient lackey's chest. A queasy sensation sprawling in circular and disoriented ways from his sternum to his strong joints when he received the umbrella from his boss, aware of the heartsore wrinkle and distracting crease on his master's brow and forehead.
And for the first time, the void in his eyes was filled with colors—emotions.
Another wondrous sight he thought he could only see once, the very least in a lifetime.
A chunk of lump blocked his airways, clogging in his throat. It was a marvel. Well, except for the fact that his boss is under hell's clout.
A strange phenomenon to witness from his ever so calm boss, before whatever storm surge he'd bestow to his trails.
It was a mythos nightmare everyone finesses to prevent and elude.
His cold fingers were sweating bullets as they swarmed around the barely warmed and damned-lucky umbrella. Hugo bows his head, he wishes not to see more.
"They're heading west, sir. Three vehicles on sight, moving past Wonton Blgd."
Hiro brushes away the strands of his hair that's been stressfully hanging and brushing against the skin under his naturally trimmed brows.
"Their numbers?" his voice tranquil and calm.
His burn-out eyes examine his environment, including the eyesore pageant in front of him. His jaw tenses.
"Unidentified, Sir," When they're better off scragged out, they prefer to report the numbers of deaths instead.
Yet,
One simple question, but he couldn't smartly provide an answer.
His worth was thrown to pits. Ashamed of his incompetency, Hugo drops his head more, just like how he lets everyone on his team down.
"Don't engage, stay positioned," Hiro declares, his fingers vulnerably twitching from his side.
His lackey snaps his head at him, distracting him from his misery.
"It's the director," there was nothing more than annoyance visible in his boss's voice.
Hugo's brows shot up in realization, and soon the corners of his eyes ablaze with friction. It's the stubborn pigman, again?
Hiro pushes himself between Jin and his entitled friend, purposely butting into their considerable argument rather than to call a conversation. His ears have been irked by their whispering for straight minutes.
"We're leaving," grabbing the bag from his grip then passing it to Hugo afterward, he offers him his empty palm whilst controlling himself to minimize the twitching from his fingertips.
He looked at him with his eyes pleading.
He waited long enough.
"Alright," Jin responds half-heartedly, silenced at his cranky behavior. Now he's mad?
Once his cold fingertips skim above Hiro's callous and warm touch, he was gently pulled towards the entrance exit, forced to leave his friend behind.
"Bomi . . ." Jihyuk calls out to him at a loss of words as his heart fell a thousand miles deeper. He's going. No. He can't go!
Jin was forced to look back, but Hiro stopped him in a wink by positioning himself completely behind him, blocking his sight. He extends his arm and his hand that's intertwined with his forward while his other hand laid flat on the back of his waist, now pulling and pushing him forth.
In such a brazen situation, Jin's stomach lurches. Soon, their trails stopped when they went past through the gates. Still dizzy from the whirlwind and buoyant sensations resurfacing in the spotlight.
"Get in the car," Hiro whispers above his head softly, hiding his anxiousness, "Please."
And he remained frozen and muted like a paralyzed man, nourishing in the hot, but an unfamiliar feeling of his warm breath against his sensitive ears.
There's that word 'please' again that he finds it hard to resist. His politeness is immaculate. Jin moves his eyes to what's laid in front of him, staring at the cars and numerous men.
He felt that he could melt from their auspicious gazes, urging him to hide.
He gulps.
Which car?
And just like his assumption that he was psychic, Hiro nods towards the black Fortuner with heavily tinted windows parked first on the line. His eyes secretly shift from left to right as if he's searching for something.
"Get in the backseat, don't look back, and wait for me." He instructs, and slowly their fingers slide farther apart. The feeling was exquisite and nothing like what he felt and knew.
Hiro rubs his knuckles and pinches his fingertips before their bodies once again lost contact.
Without further ado, Jin does exactly what he told him to. He doesn't hesitate nor question him as he felt something was off.
He walks in haste, almost jogging towards the car where Shun Ahjussi was already holding it open for him. And just like what Hiro said, he didn't look back and hops straight in, but before he could comfortably take his seat on the white cushioned seats on the back, the door beside him was suddenly shut close and he was welcomed by the minty scent alongside the freezing air conditioner inside the car that smelled just like Hiro.
It reeks of his strong pheromones.
Shamelessly breathing in the scent more, he flinches on his seat when he notices he wasn't alone in the car.
There was a man dressed like the others in black with fine dark gray eyes, sitting on the driver's seat.
When he found him, the person was already staring at him through the rearview mirror.
"Zien, at your service, Princess," The man had a wide and friendly smile to offer him while his fingers grip the end of his dark cap, that's hiding his gray hair as he nods.
Princess?
Jin blinks, his ears burning in embarrassment.
Once he gets the full picture of him, Jin already knew who he works for and so his heart rests at ease.
But he looks young, maybe around his age?
He's beginning to question what job Hiro has for him to require a crazy number of men.
"It's Jin," He corrects him. He's not sure if there was anyone in his life who dares to call him . . . er . . . whatever he's calling him.
"Nice name, but no can do."
Jin's head bobs to the other side. Amuse to himself when the image of Hiro doing the same thing reappeared momentarily inside his head, distracting him for a few seconds. He forcefully brushes the thought away.
He saw Zien harshly shaking his head from side to side with horror inside his grayish eyes under his crumpled brows.
His evident veins splattered everywhere on his arms and hands were visible as his stiff hands grasp the steering wheel tightly in front of him.
He never saw a person as ashen as the look on his face as if a nightmare had taunted him. Jin panicked.
"P-Princess . . . I guess princess is fine," leaning his back against the backrest, he suddenly wants to disappear under the soft white cushioned seat beneath him.
He heard Zien exhaled deeply, relieved.
Jin wondered if there was something wrong with his name or have he said something awful to this person before?
No.
He might easily forget things, but this has to be the first encounter he had with this man.
Besides, he wouldn't simply forget, not after seeing the overall look of his face.
He shakes his head.
An entitled word he never dreamt of saying.
Zien took his backpack out of nowhere and gave it to him by surprise.
Where did he . . .
"Master will take his time to return. If there's anything you need and want, do not hesitate, do tell me."
Jin almost drops his bag, "Master?"
He watches how Zien momentarily halts on his place. In not less than a second, he swiftly diverts his attention back to the road in front, tapping his fingers at the unmoving steering wheel, like he heard nothing from him.
He coughs, "My tongue slipped," Zien laughs nervously, his eyes twitching.
"What I meant, princess, was 'Monster' . . . Right. Monster, but I wasn't referring to my. . ."
He coughs again, but rather one with force.
"Definitely not referring to my perfectly good boss," He continues, smiling and he can almost hear the rest of his comrades slap their foreheads in disdain from his earpiece.
Shit.
Jin just nods at his oblivious confession.
He should know that he's good at making things obvious and it goes both ways for his rotted honesty department.
He refuses to overthink again from another revelation.
. . .
So they don't just work under him.
He doesn't know how to react anymore.
He had enough unlocking mysteries for today, at the very least, he had kept his strange emotions caged and locked up in the corner. He refuses to overwhelm himself more.
His assumptions were partially never true to rely on.