Chapter Text
"Kim motherfucking Hongjoong!”
BAM!
Hongjoong groaned quietly as he slowly curled back up, cradling a firm hand to his throbbing nose. He had just smacked the fuck out of his nose on his work desk and it hurt like hell. His eyes bugged when he saw blood drip down his wrist and splattered onto the soft glow on the electric table, and he let out a distressed noise at the sight, quick to angle his leaking nose away from his small collection of frantic sketches.
He had been snoring peacefully before his fitful sleep had been so aggressively interrupted. It didn’t help that he had fallen asleep with his glasses on either. He could feel the imprint of their thick frames on the bridge of his nose, now irritating his injury. He carelessly tossed them aside as another wave of pain made him hiss.
He still hadn’t looked up at whoever had startled him from his momentary shut-eye, he didn’t need to. He knew that if he looked up, he would see the angry face of his best friend and superior of over ten years, Kim Kyungmoon or Maddox, as he was widely known in their field, staring back at him. He knew that he would have a look of exasperated disappointment twisting his soft features, his thin brows crumpled together in his displeasure with him, and his pouty lips quirked down in a deep frown. He most likely had something of sustenance in his hands because Lord knows Hongjoong couldn’t be bothered to take the time to feed himself, not when he could spend that time creating.
Hongjoong was the creative director for the brand E.D.N, an experimental fashion brand that prioritized individuality and creative expression rather than the practicalities of simple wear. Because he didn’t have to limit himself in coming up with a million versions of the same t-shirts and pants, he spent an unhealthy amount of time in this very room, fingers always creating something; shoes, accessories, tops, bottoms, satchels—whatever he could sketch on a piece of paper or perforate one of their many mannequins with a myriad of pins.
His eyes flickered up momentarily, accidentally making eye contact with his friend, who was most likely glaring back at him. Though he was a bit blurry, Hongjoong could make out his hand on his hip, while another was balancing what looked like coffee tray. Knowing Maddox, there were probably pastries from his favorite bakery resting on top. Guilt tore his gaze away, as he instead scoots his chair back to dig through the bottom drawer of his desk. In it, there were a bunch of first-aid items for times like this, ranging from band aids--both the sticker and the gauze-- peroxide, cotton balls and instant ice packs. He got nosebleeds, paper cuts, and regular cuts often, so he found it convenient to have all he needed nearby. With them in arms reach, he wouldn’t have to leave the room at all. The ice packs were what he was looking for. Cradling his bruised nose, he squeezed the ice pack until it collapsed in his hand with a tight pop and shook it. He expertly avoided his friend’s scornful gaze, closing his eyes when he pressed the cooled pack against his nose.
Now that they were shut, his eyes didn’t sting as much as they did before. That’s what he should have been doing 12 hours ago, you know, in his bed, when he had assured his friend that he had left for the night.
Yeah, Hongjoong was in for it.
Maddox never liked it when Hongjoong worked overtime, if you could even call what he was doing overtime. It was more like he was taking both the day and the night shift consecutively…every day. He hated when he did it, because Hongjoong had absolutely no self-regulation skills. He couldn’t stop himself from completing a task until it was done when he was in the zone and an hour of work became three, and three became the rest of the afternoon, not stopping to drink water or eat.
It was one of the many reasons why he didn’t have a team working with him, that and the fact he was very peculiar about stupid things that irritated others, painting his image at work as an absolute diva and ‘unsocial’. Maddox had rudely compared him to a gambling addict, once. He had said he was like the people who couldn’t tear their gazes away from the slot machines, caught in a daze as the neon colors reflected across their glassy eyes, and fled their systems with colorful dances of dopamine they could only get there.
But more importantly, Maddox hated being lied to, something Hongjoong had done very well the night before.
His friend had called him to make sure he had got home safely, like the good friend he was, while Hongjoong was in the middle of matching fabrics he would soon pin to a mannequin. Hongjoong had responded with an extremely convincing sleepy voice, as he measured the fabric and stapled it across the bust in front of him, assuring him that he was about to settle down for the night.
In truth, inspiration had hit him while he was people watching the streets far below from his window. It was unwilling to be ignored and if he dared to, it would be forgotten in the depths of his constantly shifting mind. So consequently, he couldn’t leave his workroom until he had the image in his mind immortalized on paper and somewhat constructed on the standing cotton bodice.
“You have got to be fucking kidding, Kim,” Maddox seethed, marching forward, kicking away spools of fabric that were bigger than Hongjoong himself, and giant balls of crumbled paper as he approached the illuminated worktable. “I can’t believe you slept here!”
He slammed the goodies on a random cut of fabric, a small magenta snippet covered in glittery, embroidered patterns, so that the condensation on the drinks wouldn’t get all over the table and placed his hands on his hips.
“And you lied to me!” he hissed, his eyes narrowed into venomous slits, making Hongjoong shrink back like a scorned puppy.
He didn’t even have the strength to argue his reasons either, his injured nose sucking more of his sparse energy than he thought. Before Maddox had arrived, he had just begun to doze off, finally getting the sketch just right; the material fell over the sketched model’s form like a poncho but left a shoulder bare, exactly the way he wanted it and finally freeing his mind of the absolute burden of that idea.
But now that he was looking at it in the light of day under Maddox’s scornful gaze, it was starting to resemble the silhouette of a trash bag than the illustrious poncho that he thought it looked like a couple hours ago. He could feel himself deflating in his seat, and tears of frustration stung his eyes.
“Let me see,” Maddox muttered, voice considerably softer than before. He was squinting disdainfully at his nose, but his frown wasn’t as angular at the edges. He probably noticed Hongjoong’s change in demeanor and felt bad. That made Hongjoong feel worse and he tried his hardest not to left his lip tremble too obviously. When he made no move to lower the ice pack, Maddox stepped forward and tugged the ice pack away from Hongjoong’s face and out of his hands. Whatever he saw made his eyes crease at the corners, before he shut them with a heavy sigh.
“You didn’t even wipe the blood from off your face.”
Hongjoong pouted at him but remained silent, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously as Maddox rounded the desk to squat next to him and dig through his first aid drawer.
He pulled out a couple of cotton balls and the brown bottle of peroxide and got to work, putting the ice pack aside on the worktable. Hongjoong winced at the stinging cold of the liquid as Maddox dabbed at his nose, but remained completely still, lest he irritated his hyung even more. He knew he was in for a very long lecture about his theoretical (nonexistent) sleep schedules and maintaining his health, and maybe even being temporarily banned from his workroom.
It had happened before, and he could admit that he had suffered symptoms that could only be described as withdrawal back then, proving Maddox’s “addict” theory right. He shivered at the thought, and his fingers itched from where they were curled obediently on his thighs.
The idea of not being able to be in his creative space and haven for an unknown period of time terrified him. It was like being kicked out of your very comfortable and cozy home and forced to relocate due to a termite problem. He began to think of the number of emails that would flood his inbox, gone unread by him. There could be invitations to galas or opportunities for his clothes to be used for variations of photoshoots, all neglected because he wasn’t in his office!
He used to be able to take his laptop home, but after falling dead asleep during a board meeting one too many times because he simply could not stop his need to create, even at the wee hours of the night and well into the morning, both Maddox and the senior member of his board of directors and co-founder of the company, Eden, had rescinded that privilege long ago.
He hadn’t noticed that Maddox was finished until the elder pat his knees, waking him from his daymare. Hongjoong pouted down at him again, the throbbing of his nose making him dizzy, and Maddox stared back with what Hongjoong could only describe as his lecturer’s face. Hongjoong cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, tucking his arms under his armpits.
He was preparing himself to space out after the first two minutes of taking and continue to do so for the duration of his speech. But then, the other designer’s face changed, like he had an eureka moment. Hongjoong didn’t like that one bit; he was diverting from his imaginary script. Maddox stood with a slightly crazed smile on his face, his eyes darting around the floor as if his idea was physically blossoming in front of his very eyes.
“You’re taking a break,” Maddox said at last, and Hongjoong felt his heart dip. He scrambled for his glasses, ready to protest, to insist that after a good night’s rest, he’d be good to go for the day. But that was also what he told Maddox yesterday when he had planned to pull his all-nighter, so Maddox is more than likely not going to believe him this time. He couldn’t even be proven right when the elder held a hand up, effectively silencing him before he even got a word out, and reached into his pocket for his phone.
“You’re taking a break to go stay with a friend of mine,” he explained without looking at Hongjoong as he presumably scrolled through his contacts. He paused as he thought about it for a second. “I think a month or so should be okay.”
Hongjoong’s eyes doubled in size. A month?! Flashes of missed opportunities, things going wrong around the office, and the company crashing and burning ran through his mind, making his palms sweaty.
“A-a month?!” he croaked instead, feeling faint, and rubbing his damp hands on his thighs, “what the hell am I going to do for a month?!”
Maddox didn’t answer him and put his phone back into his pocket. He reached his hands out for Hongjoong to take and helped him to his feet. Hongjoong watched frozen in place as the elder walked back towards the door from which he came, only turning around when he realized Hongjoong wasn’t following. He blinked at him, and Hongjoong blinked right back.
“C’mon, we have to get you packed,” he said, raising his brows. “And bring the food.”
Hongjoong quickly turned around and grabbed drink tray with a wrinkle of his nose gazing down at the ice melting in the cups. He hated when ice melted in his coffee, it made the drink taste funny and then his mood would be ruined. It’s one of the reasons his office is usually littered with half drunken americanos, he let them melt when he got too wrapped up in a project and had to buy a new one. It was a rare day when Hongjoong finished a cup of coffee. When he looked up at the door, Maddox was nowhere to be seen, so he put some pep in his step and jogged after him. He pushed his glasses up and kicked his office door shut to follow his friend who seemed to be sprinting down the hallway.
Hongjoong was being punished, but he didn’t think his hyung would be so cruel.
According to him, he was going to leave Hongjoong in the hands of some country-bumpkin-ass dom so that he could finally relax and get rid of the proverbial stick that was wedged deep between his ass cheeks. First off, there was no stick up there, it was his superiors that sucked the joy out of his job and made him snobby and overwhelmed all the time, thank you very much. Second, Hongjoong hated the outdoors. If his damn near translucent skin, giant, nerdy glasses and low stamina weren’t enough, he damn sure was verbal about it. But this guy, this guy that Maddox refused to name or even show him a picture was supposed to be different from all his previous doms; in Maddox’s own words, a sure-fire solution to him successfully into subspace. He never raised his voice; he didn’t need to and had a 100% success rate. Hongjoong thought this to be bogus. Any living, breathing person gets upset and yells sometimes, that’s what made them human. Emotion. Was Maddox going to send him off to some asshole dictator that was going to beat the brat out of him?
Hongjoong shivered as he thought of a mystery man with a forked tongue and fire coming out of his mouth, roaring monstrously at Hongjoong with an Indiana Jones whip in his hand and a cowboy hat on his head, whipping at the air behind him while making him carry giant bales of hay, or whatever harsh labor cowboys did.
He lifted his head off his fist when a large white ranch house came into view, stunned into silence. He couldn’t help but admit the house was beautiful, and pushed up his glasses to see it better.
It was a western styled house, perched daintily at the side of the mountain. The white was a beautiful contrast to the endless amount of green surrounding it. He could see dots on what he assumed to be animals idly grazing in the field behind it. It was the only house for miles, from what he had seen so far, and he wondered if all the land belonged to Maddox’s mysterious friend. Rich and country. What a world. In front of the house was a large wooden pen with a beautiful, chocolate brown horse with a long black mane, completing figure eights and other rhythmic steps he had no name for, in it. There were a couple figures in the pen standing a safe distance away from the horse, but they were too far away for Hongjoong make out any specific details of what they looked like. They were probably covered in dirt and smelled of horseshit. He wrinkled his nose at the thought and turned back towards his friend who was now smirking triumphantly at the road ahead.
“What?” he squinted at him suspiciously.
“Excited yet?” Maddox asked, momentarily flicking his eyes over to Hongjoong. He didn’t even grace him with a response, only rolling his eyes and turning back around to watch the house augment as they got closer.
Excited? Why would he be excited?
Maddox could be driving him to his death, and he wouldn’t even know it. All because Hongjoong can’t drive and is too much of a coward to hop out of the speeding car to save himself. But honestly, if he jumped out at the sheer velocity Maddox’s car was moving at, he’d probably die instantly from the air resistance alone.
He huffed, ignoring the questioning look he got from Maddox and slouched in his seat with his arms crossed. From down here, he could no longer see the ranch house, just the cracked gray leather of the door of Maddox’s beat up KIA Sorento. He ran his eyes across the door with a bitter sort of nostalgia and distaste. He never understood why Maddox stuck with the outdated car he had since their college days, considering their extremely generous salary, but he stopped asking when Maddox in turn asked him when he was going to get his license instead of being driven everywhere like some sort of prince. He shut his mouth then, and it stayed shut even when they would have to pull over because the engine wouldn’t stop making a clicking noise, and Hongjoong was convinced it was going to finally explode.
The road got a bit unstable when they crossed over the property line, the road going from paved concrete to gray dirt and sediment. Hongjoong squawked as he was tossed around in his seat in response to the dips and divvies under the wheels, his seatbelt cutting painfully into his stomach since he had pulled the chest belt behind him. Maddox only scoffed at him when he squeaked as his shoulder hit the window.
“Great, now my arm is broken,” he whined, clutching is aching shoulder and pushing up his fallen glasses. “All because you want to abandon me in the middle of nowhere over a little fib.” He pouted at Maddox who simply paid his twisted glossy cherry lips no mind. “A little jokey-joke.”
Maddox ignored him, but his expression did sour at the reminder of Hongjoong lying to him. Hongjoong pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling regret for even bringing it up. He watched his friend warily from the corner or his eye when he spoke again.
“Just wait.” He grumbled, “When you see who owns the farm, you’ll shut right up.”
He seemed to be talking to himself, but deliberately loud enough for Hongjoong to hear. Hongjoong stared at Maddox's hunched form strangely. His friend had finally lost his marbles. They’re scattered all over the floor of the car and he hadn’t realized it yet.
Why on Park Bo Gum’s green earth would Hongjoong ever be happy about being left in the wilderness amongst the mosquitoes and malaria? Left to fend for himself, surviving on berries and nuts or whatever farmers ate to sustain themselves.
Maybe he was thinking of cavemen.
Whatever.
Point was, Hongjoong and nature didn’t mix, no matter how much he appreciated the concept. The last time he had gone outside for recreational reasons was for a team outing and they had been playing soccer. To his dismay, he just so happened to be allergic to the fertilizer in the grass making his skin break out in an annoying rash. Then, that same day he had a heat stroke and the trip had to be cut short. He much rather watch the nature channel with a bag of pork rinds and donate a couple thousand dollars to pacify his environmental concerns from under the warmth of his duvet and the comfort of his bed, remote in hand.
After a very scary incident of the car dipping into a deep hole that made Hongjoong’s knees extremely weak, they pulled in front of the house. Even thought he had almost died, the house was so cute up close, Hongjoong wanted to make it into a snow globe. As he saw before, the house was white, but much bigger than he thought. The space between the pen with the horses and the front porch was covered in an expanse of green, split only to make room for a crooked but neat cobble stone walkway. He could see acres of land and mountain stretching far behind the house and wondered what else could reside on the property; what other wonders he might discover during his stay here. The windows faced them and were outlined with dark blue paint. Under each painted windowsill were hanging beds of flowers; round, lush marigolds dotting the beds of green, creating a beautiful contrast.
Hongjoong was so delighted when he stepped out of the car, albeit on shaky legs, mouth slightly ajar in his wonder as he looked around. His fingers itched to capture the simple beauty in front of his eyes in his sketchbook or his digital camera as he looked on. It would look so beautiful frozen in time on a canvas, or printed at stapled to his wall. His joy was short lived, however, when the actual smell of the farm wafted into his nostrils and the rest of his senses c idle sounds horses made were all he could hear. Suddenly, reality came crashing down on him as his body sagged in the direction of those ridiculously large beasts.
He, Kim Hongjoong, Creative Director ™ at E.D.N, a world-renowned brand, was being banished for two months at a farm with no Wi-Fi, with nothing but a sketchbook and pencil and his hopes and dreams. He could try to overpower Maddox and drive away in his car, but the asshole has been hitting gym with more rigor lately and Hongjoong finds sweating on purpose beneath him. So instead of making a fool of himself, he turns from the house to see Maddox inside the horse pen, talking animatedly to a tall man in a white cowboy hat. His face was hidden beneath the shade of the hat, but Hongjoong could see that he had shaggy, black hair that curled around his ears, and covered the top half of his face.
But upon further inspection, that is, he crept closer as inconspicuously as possible so that he could eavesdrop on his friend and this stranger, he could see that he was well built, no doubt from the mindless farm work he got up to, but he wasn’t stocky. He was rather lean, but his natural aura made him seem bigger.
He was dressed in a dark, grayish blue denim button down that was rolled at the sleeves, revealing slightly hairy and deliciously veiny arms, over a black tank top. Attached to his wrist was a chunky black wristwatch, which honestly looked a bit dorky and shouldn’t have been as attractive to Hongjoong as it was. But it was. He wore loose fitted jeans that were almost the same color, but Hongjoong’s trained eyes could see that the two articles of clothing didn’t go together. It was just amateur styling on the mystery man’s part.
He was finally close enough to hear them talking, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the smoothness of his voice despite the heavy dialect it was coated in. As a spoiled city kid, hearing different dialects was jarring to him, and took some time for him to get used to, but something about the way this man spoke made his eardrums feel like they were being caressed with butter. Hongjoong finally stood next to Maddox, and wasted no time in assessing the man’s face with a schooled expression.
First, he frowned at how much taller this man was than him, though it didn’t take much, him being naturally petite and all. The man hadn’t acknowledged Hongjoong yet, not once, still wrapped in his nonsensical conversation with his friend, making him flush with indignant anger. The man’s gaze didn’t even flicker over to him once as he burned holes into his face, still nodding along to Maddox rambling.
Feeling sick of waiting, he gave up trying to get his attention and studied him instead. His face was nothing but contradiction. It was very angular, but soft at the same time; high cheekbones, softened by rounded cheeks, thick but somehow manicured eyebrows that were borderline bushy, a sharp nose and plump pink lips. His lips were parted around a small toothpick he rolled lazily with his tongue.
“You done, or should I turn around for ya?”
Hongjoong startled at the sound of his voice and looked up. He couldn’t believe how dark and sparkly the man’s eyes were and how they seemed to have their own natural gravity. Hongjoong let out a small gasp as he was sucked in their stationary orbit, unable to look away, even as he felt the apples of his cheeks and neck heat. His pulse thrummed under his skin as the man tilted his head to assess him right back, his eyes scanning the top of his head, to the points of his shoes. Only, he seemed to see right through him, like he could see Hongjoong for what he was rather than who, his attitude and titles be damned, and it made him swallow the thick gathering saliva in his mouth.
“Huh,” The man drawled, gently pushing his hat back with a knuckle. A small smile stretched his lips as he looked down at Hongjoong, making him feel tinier than usual. “Kyungmoon wasn’t exaggeratin.” He muttered, almost to himself as his eyes narrowed as if he saw something interesting on Hongjoong that needed further scrutiny.
Exaggerating about what? Hongjoong couldn’t even think to question what he meant by that with the man staring at him so intensely, for once, nor could he help the elegant squeak that escaped him, frowning when Maddox snickered behind him. He was going to tell the other to shut up, but a calloused hand appeared in front of him, stopping him from diverting his attention from the man in front of him. Hongjoong turned back to find him jutting his chin down at his outstretched hand.
“Yer supposed to shake it, tiny.” He teased with a curve of his brow and mirth in his eyes. Hongjoong wasn’t stupid, he knew what a handshake was. He took his hand with a scowl , fighting the urge to dig his nails into the cowboy’s knuckles, and shook it, firmly. He realized quite quickly that this man was much, much stronger than he was with the way his body rocked with each bob of their hands. Curse the mindless farm work countryfolk got up to.
“Park Seonghwa,” Seonghwa introduced, releasing Hongjoong’s hand and returned his own to his belt buckle, where it belonged. "I'ma bit older than you, so you can call me hyung." It took every ounce of self-control Hongjoong had to not look down.
Not at his hand, definitely not at his belt buckle.
“Kim Hongjoong,” he replied, impressed at how clear his voice sounded, despite how dry his throat felt. He busied himself with pushing up his glasses to regain a bit of his composure and folded his arms across his chest. He sniffed, sticking his nose high in the air as if the quaint farm was suddenly beneath him and looked around the beautiful scenery with disinterest.
“So what is it that you do here, exactly?” Hongjoong asked as Maddox disappeared from his side, leaving them to talk. Seonghwa didn't reply for a very long second and Hongjoong was starting to feel a bit stupid for his question. The minute seemed to last hours and he could hear Maddox's trunk opening and the heavy thud of his gigantic suitcase hitting the dirt ground. Maddox grunted with the impact, and Hongjoong let his lip quirk up a bit.
Seonghwa leaned forward, resting his arms on the wooden pen that separated them and got way too close to Hongjoong’s face for it to be comfortable.
“A lil of this, and a whole lotta that.” He shrugged, his lips twitching. “I mostly keep n’ train horses.”
Hongjoong nodded with a wrinkle of his nose and a sharp gasp when a shiny brown one with hair tied into several neat buns down the slope of its neck, wandered towards them. He really didn’t like those things. They were big and surprisingly muscular, two things Hongjoong was not. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself in attempt to protect himself and took a step back as the beast nudged at Seonghwa’s hat, like it couldn't stand him wearing it, making him huff out a soft laugh.
“And you genuinely enjoy doing this?” he asked, now a good three feet away from where he was previously standing, eyeing the other horses in the pen warily. Seonghwa laughed as the horse nudged at his hat until it fell to the ground with a gentle thud, letting his raven locs free to frame his handsome face, before the horse began to sniff at him aggressively. The man rubbed gently at the horse’s muzzle, cooing at it, a pretty moue on his face, and low encouragements that Hongjoong did not wish to be directed at him, spilling from his lips. Hongjoong realized that his previous question was a stupid one as he watched the other horses surround the cowboy, like they were unable to keep away from him, huffing and neighing like they were in competition for the man’s attention.
“No, I hate my job,” the cowboy chuckled and bent down to pick up his fallen hat, brushing the dirt off it before he returned it to its rightful place at the top of his head.
He gave a firm pat to the steep neck of what looked like the ‘head honcho’ horse. Hongjoong dubbed it as such since it was bigger than the other two horses in the pen. It was a white one with blonde hair and gray spots, with large bulging leg muscles. It honestly could have been a damn warhorse, and if there was a next war, it should be on the frontlines.
It huffed loudly, obviously displeased at being dismissed, before it, along with the other horses, dispersed. Once they gave him enough room, Seonghwa climbed the fence before hopping over, landing right in front of Hongjoong. His eyes bulged behind his glasses. He was close enough where his nose pressed snug between the elder’s pectorals. He inhaled sharply before he regretted it immediately, expecting him to smell of animals and grass and must.
On the contrary, and much to his horror, the man smelled amazing. He smelled of baby powder and an expensive cologne Hongjoong could not name, not without another sniff. My god, he wanted to smell him again, he was such a weirdo—
"Oopsie daisy," the other man muttered, like Hongjoong wasn't about to lose it right then and there and this was truly an 'oops' matter.
Unaware of his inner turmoil, Seonghwa only idly rolled his toothpick to the other side of his mouth and shoved his hands into his mismatched denim pockets. A hand came out to wrap Hongjoong’s waist and gently move him aside to walk over to Maddox. Hongjoong watched, frozen as he effortlessly took his suitcase and carry-on bag from him before he made his way to the house. He was still frozen when Maddox shuffled over to him, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips as he poked at Hongjoong’s ribs. The man squirmed under the assault, swatting his hands away before he resumed his previous posture of arms crossed over his chest.
“So?”
Hongjoong was silent, watching raptly as Seonghwa placed the suitcase down on the porch steps, and adjusted the carry-on across his shoulder. He opened the door, turned to grab the discarded suitcase and disappeared inside the house. Hongjoong remained quiet until the door shut, like he would hear what he was going to say even from damn near fifty feet away. Hongjoong adjusted his glasses before he replied to his friend.
“…Did you pack my douching kit?"