Seonghwa watches in abject fascination as a deep burgundy puddle pools on the floor with bits of broken glass floating around in the tide.
He brings his eyes back up to the guest— his guest's face— and all he can see are strong features and a look of pure shock.
He doesn't know whether to be offended or amused.
On one hand, he is one of the wealthiest people in the city, a former playboy whose antics always made the tabloids; on the other, he's a former playboy confined to a wheelchair, his arms toned from years of pushing himself around but his legs little more than dead sticks.
If he were in this man's place, he would be shocked too, but certainly not enough to spill such expensive wine.
"Are you ok, Hongjoong-ah?" Wooyoung questions, rushing frantically to the aid of their guest.
The man, this Hongjoong, stammers out an apology and then he's turning so pink in the face that his bleached hair next to his burning cheeks looks respectively like vanilla and strawberry ice cream.
"Shit, I'm so sorry, I just— I— he—" The man's voice is deep and smooth, not anything like what he expected.
"I know I'm not much to look at, but this was kind of unnecessary," Seonghwa interjects dryly, rolling over to take his spot at the head of the table.
He watches Wooyoung fuss over their guest, taking a rag to the man's pants and Seonghwa sighs.
"Wooyoung, just call Yunho. I'm sure he's still in the building somewhere."
Wooyoung perks up at that; his eyes are wild.
"Oh my god, you're right! I'll be right back." He saunters out of the room then and Seonghwa eyes the other man.
"Did Wooyoung not tell you about me?"
Swallowing hard, Hongjoong fiddles with the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt.
It's not expensive, but nice, and it hangs over a set of toned shoulders.
He looks strangely put together and unkempt at the same time, but of course, the terribly bleached hair isn't helping the image.
"No, that's not it," he refutes quickly.
"I just— you look like someone I used to know. Do you have any siblings in Jinju or maybe a cousin— a girl?"
This makes Seonghwa laugh, because if this man knew anything about him, or anything about his father, then it's a rather simple question.
"My family is from Jinju, but no, I don't have any family there anymore," he explains with a shrug.
"Both my mother and father were only children and I only have an older brother in the service."
Which is why I'm here, Seonghwa wants to add.
His status as a possible heir to the company is the only reason his father hadn't disowned him yet.
The only reason.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry for being so startled then," Hongjoong apologizes sheepishly, wringing the cloth Wooyoung had left with him, still standing right next to the puddle.
"And for the wine. Shit, I'm usually more professional than this. Shit, I just said shit."
His eyes grow wide and his cheeks glow even redder, which manages to soften up Seonghwa somewhat, but not nearly enough because Hongjoong just uttered the word "professional" and suddenly Seonghwa has a sinking feeling in his gut.
"You're a nurse, aren't you?" he asks, eyes narrowing in contemplation.
When the other man nods and whispers a squeaked out "yes", Seonghwa immediately pushes himself back from the table and turns his chair around before looking back over his shoulder.
"Excuse me for just a moment. I need to talk to Wooyoung."
Hongjoong shifts awkwardly on his feet and offers a strained smile.
"Ok."
How Seonghwa doesn't force his chair to race across the penthouse is a miracle because all he wants to do is strangle his childhood best friend.
He finds Wooyoung and Yunho huddled near the doorway, whispering conspiratorially.
"Just hurry and clean up the wine before hyung finds out that—"
"That this is a job interview and not a blind date?" Seonghwa finishes for him, smirking.
Wooyoung had always thought he was clever, even as a child, but Seonghwa was older, wiser, and far more observant.
Yunho is clutching a basket of cleaning supplies in one hand and a mop in the other.
"You didn't tell him?" the housekeeper squeals, eyes growing wide as he begins to laugh hysterically.
"You invited the guy and didn't even tell hyung? No wonder he actually put effort into dressing up. Probably thought he was going to hop on a dick tonight."
Gasping, Wooyoung claps his hands over the other's mouth.
"Fuck, Yunho, he can probably hear you from the dining room! And no, I didn't tell Seonghwa-hyung because he wouldn't have met with him, you know that. He's such a stubborn bastard."
Seonghwa clicks the brake on his wheelchair and settles in with an exasperated expression.
"I'm still here and I can hear you," he states with a sigh. "Seriously Wooyoung, why is this necessary?" He turns his attention to the housekeeper.
"I thought you agreed to help me while Wooyoung is gone, Yunho?"
Yunho's eyes grow comically wider and he nearly drops his supplies and gapes at Wooyoung.
"You didn't tell him I couldn't do it either?"
"Wow" is all Seonghwa says as he watches Wooyoung explode and Yunho cower, bickering back and forth with each other, arguing about him like he's not there, or rather, like two parents fighting over who has the kid for the weekend.
With another heavy sigh, he unlocks his chair and wheels it back into the dining room.
He comes to a stop when he finds Hongjoong on the floor, surrounded by what looks like an entire roll of paper towels wadded up on the spilled wine.
The man snaps his head up, clearly embarrassed.
"Uh, I found the roll and I thought I would just..." he trails off, gesturing at the puddle which is nearly soaked up by now.
When Seonghwa doesn't reply, he leans back down, placing his hand on the floor before hissing and quickly retracting it.
"Careful," Seonghwa chides, rolling over to him. "There's glass in that too."
Hongjoong looks up at him from the floor, all wide chocolate eyes, red, heavily-balmed lips, and smooth, caramel skin.
He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it, gaze still boring right into Seonghwa.
Fuck.
Seonghwa has to get rid of this guy.
He has to, because Hongjoong is exactly the kind of guy playboy Seonghwa with functional legs would've spent all night talking to at some bar, laughing as they sipped on cheap liquor and glancing over the rims of their glasses to give heated, cheeky looks of interest.
Yes, back then, Seonghwa would've bit his lip and slid his veiny hand over Hongjoong's thigh and the other man would've cocked one of his brows and said "Let's get out of here" and that would've been it.
They would've fucked at either of their places, tipsy and aggressive, lost in themselves and completely oblivious to anything else.
But that was a whole lifetime ago, another Seonghwa, and in this lifetime, men like Hongjoong didn't look at Seonghwa with anything other than pity.
They saw his limp legs, shriveled muscles, and the chair, and wanted to baby him while they went out with drinks with other people, always to come home to the man who couldn't run away.
It's been four years since the accident but it didn't take Seonghwa nearly that long to figure out that he was nothing more than a pair of useless legs, no longer a worthy lover.
Hence why he has to make Hongjoong leave.
He seems too sweet, too kind, already a martyr of sorts for looking after patients, and Seonghwa knows exactly what will happen if the man stays.
Pain.
"Since this is a job interview, let's get this over with," Seonghwa suggests, backing up and taking his place at the table once more.
Hongjoong doesn't move from the floor, still so bewildered.
"Please sit. Our housekeeper will take care of that."
Carefully, Hongjoong rises to his feet, visibly unnerved, but quickly composes himself.
He sits across from Seonghwa and his hands grab onto a file sitting in front of him.
It must contain the required documents for his profession.
It looks like he came prepared; too bad he won't be getting a job tonight.
"Don't these things start off with some sort of question about your skills or something?" Seonghwa muses as he folds his hands.
"Well, I'm not into that fake bullshit, so how about I ask you something more useful. What are your flaws? Why shouldn't I hire you?"
If Hongjoong was at a loss before, he's certainly dumbfounded now, blinking at Seonghwa as if he was already more of a freak than he currently was.
"I— I don't really know how to answer that?" His statement comes out as a squeaky question and Seonghwa wants to laugh at the way the man pouts, his eyebrows drawing together, but he forces himself to remain impassive.
He has to get rid of Hongjoong.
Clearing his throat, he reiterates.
"What are the flaws you have that other nurses don't? And don't give me that 'I'm too good of a worker' or 'I'm a perfectionist' shit that people like to pull in interviews."
Across the table, Hongjoong blinks several times.
"Well," he finally drawls out, hands gripping the file in his hands.
"I'm weird? Yeah, I'm weird. Most clients find me off-putting at first."
Seonghwa snorts.
"You're weird? That's your answer? That's a bullshit answer too. What do you mean you're weird?"
"Uh, the hair," Hongjoong explains, pointing at his head.
"I keep it bleached but I'm too lazy to tone it out so it's always yellow. Um, let's see.... I go through at least one stick of lip balm every two weeks, unless the store is out of the brand I usually get. I have a dog, well it is technically my friend Maddox's dog, who I treat as my child and we cuddle every night. I collect things and I like fashion but I'm too broke to really get into that. I like photography too but I only have a phone so most of the pictures are shitty. Oh, and one time in college I covered my entire body with fake tattoos, you know, from those convenience store machines?" He finishes his rant and doesn't even crack a smile, still anxiously staring at Seonghwa in expectation.
Well, that was a lot to unpack, and Seonghwa could spend hours going over all those blurted-out factoids, but instead he laughs and says, "Were you drunk? You know, during the whole tattoo thing?"
Scrunching up his face, Hongjoong looks to be in deep contemplation.
"No, I think I lost a bet. But I did look really cool actually. I liked it, anyway." He laughs then and the sound is so rich and pretty that Seonghwa can physically feel it enveloping him.
He has to get rid of Hongjoong.
"I bet it looked fucking stupid," he quips back. "What kind of person does something like that?"
"Me, I guess, but to each his own opinion." Hongjoong shrugs, unbothered.
Seonghwa seethes, because he thought this would be easy.
Most of the people employed underneath him can't handle his scathing glare, his pointed questions.
If they weren't offended, they were uncomfortable enough to leave, but Hongjoong looks like he actually doesn't mind this process, like he really can't see Seonghwa trying to be an asshole.
"I'm not going to hire you," Seonghwa bites out, ready to end this little dance.
He would find someone else to care for him, maybe an older woman with a maternal instinct.
Someone that he could actually bear for two whole months and not this— this man with the overly shiny lips and the glowing skin.
Not this man who looks wild and mismatched but also like his face belongs on a magazine or in Seonghwa's dreams.
Not this Hongjoong who seems so gentle with his patients, yet reminds Seonghwa of just how much he lost and what he'll never have.
Hongjoong furrows his brows.
"What? Why? I answered your question."
"Because I can't be dependent on some quirky idiot no matter what your medical degree says," Seonghwa retorts, already rolling himself away from the table.
"You can stay for dinner, though. Good luck with your job search."
Behind him, he hears the solid wood chair scrape across the floor and he just knows that he isn't going to be free from this guy anytime soon.
"This is really unfair," Hongjoong protests, his voice booming.
"You're obviously trying to be an asshole to me, but I've seen tons of patients like you. People who use their illness as an excuse to push others away. Look, if you don't want to hire me because of my resume, that's one thing, but don't turn me away because you're uncomfortable. I'm here to help care for you, to make life easier. Don't you want someone to be there for you?"
Seonghwa stops moving, his hands resting on the rubber of his wheels.
No.
He doesn't want someone to be there for him.
He doesn't deserve that and no one deserves to be burdened with caring for half a man.
Slowly, he turns around, getting a glimpse of the fire in Hongjoong's eyes, the determination.
Seonghwa had that once.
Had that for nearly three years as he regained the feeling in his pelvis.
But then his body quit on him and his mind followed suit.
"Tell you what," he drawls, smirking.
"I'll give you the job if you go down to the nearest convenience store and cover yourself with fake tattoos. It will be like reliving your college days. Deal?"
One of Hongjoong's brows twitch and his lips pull into a frown.
"That's.... ridiculous. No one would do that for a job."
Seonghwa hears "no one would do that for you", so he grimaces and exits the dining room, rolling past Wooyoung and Yunho who are still arguing in the foyer, Wooyoung begging and pleading with the housekeeper to take care of Seonghwa for just a short amount of time.
He ignores them, settles his chair in the lift, and zones out as the machine does its job.
Minutes later, he's entering his bedroom, getting close enough to the edge of his bed to pull himself into it, dragging his legs along.
He sighs, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow and just lays there, thinking about his life like it belongs to someone else, some character in a movie that would find love and walk again just before the credits rolled.
But he knows better.
Years from now, he'll be doing the same thing, lying in this bed, waiting on Wooyoung to take him to the bathroom and wipe his ass if needed.
It's with tears streaming down his cheeks that Seonghwa drifts asleep, the moonlight pouring in through the sheer curtains.
He's unsure of the hour when he's awakened by the shrill chime of the doorbell, but he hears enough commotion to rouse his interest, so he pulls himself into his chair and wheels out onto the balcony overlooking the main room.
There, standing in the middle, is a bewildered Wooyoung, clothed in pajamas, talking to a stranger.
It's only when Seonghwa gets closer does the man move and he gets an eyeful of Hongjoong ripping open his button down shirt to reveal a myriad of horrendously tacky fake tattoos haphazardly covering his body, crawling up his neck, and snaking around his torso.
He smirks up at Seonghwa and that voice of his bounces off the pristine walls.
There's a piece of paper in his hands— a contract.
"When do I start, Seonghwa-ssi?"