They arrived at the diner as the sun dipped below where one’s eyes couldn’t follow. The rhythmic flow of someone plucking the strings on an acoustic guitar greeted them inside the packed eatery. A bar, tucked in the far corner, held the two people they were searching for. The dim lighting kept Jaesung from getting a good look at them.

Well, food came first, so at the moment nothing else mattered. He at least preferred to enjoy his meal, knowing it was spit free before he robbed them of any profits they had recently made. It became free game after that, and he knew it. 

A server led them to a cozy oak table near a window. Their usual spot looked as if it already had a patron, a man dressed in a black suit from head to toe. The sharp pink shirt underneath stood out like a beacon in the drab room. Jaesung let out a snort, unable to contain his inner thoughts. What an idiot. Who dressed like that and actually thought they looked decent?

“What’re you looking at?” Feng, who sat in front of him, whirled around in his chair. “Wow, that guy is definitely your type.”

“Feng.” Jaesung scanned the table for an item to throw at him. “Can you say it any louder?”

With an eyebrow raised, his dimwitted friend opened his mouth once again, this time speaking an octave higher. “He’s your type, man!”

For a second, Jaesung saw red. All noise ceased around him, and he thought he could hear the blood rushing to his brain. Without thinking, he went for the closest object and threw it at Feng with all his strength. A loud crash sizzled his anger and brought him back to reality.

“Who the hell were you aiming at?” Feng held his stomach as he struggled to curb his laughter. “No wonder no one wants you on their team. You can’t aim for shit.”

Was now really the time to bring up their gang’s stupid sports day? Not to mention, Feng was worse at sports than Jaesung was!

“Excuse me.”

Jaesung lifted his eyes from Feng, only to stare straight at the man he had been trying so hard to avoid. Before him, the stranger who once looked pristine had his entire suit covered in splotches of white. His chin length, wavy blonde hair had spots of it mixed in. Jaesung paused, mouth open like a fish, when he realized what he had thrown. The powdered sugar!

“Uh.” Was it too late to apologize? “I’m sorry?”

The person before him blinked, face stoic. Hazel eyes glared him down, unmoving.

“It was an accident. I, um…”

As if the mood couldn’t turn any more sour, his so-called friend burst out laughing. Feng tried to form words, but it became impossible to decipher them in between his howling. He’d beat the shit out of him if Jaesung wasn’t so nervous about the guy he assaulted with a table condiment.

Before he could stutter out another half-assed apology, the other two he wanted to evade until absolutely necessary came running over. The owners of the diner, one tall, the other short, stopped at their dinner table. The one that towered over them was Gael, and the other who stood at the same height as Jaesung himself, a small 167 centimeters, was Chase.

Could his day get any worse?

“Luca, are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh god, why are your clothes white?” Gael spit out question after question, like he was trying to win a rap battle.

“It was an accident, Gael. Chill out.” Jaesung intervened, hoping to stop the coming storm. Once Gael got riled up, not even his partner could settle his ass down.

“Chill out? Don’t you know what you just did?” The screech in the owner’s voice at the end was enough to send anyone packing. “I would strangle you if I could—”

“That’s enough,” said Chase. He was calm as he stared up at his husband. He then turned to the guy named Luca and bowed. “We’re so sorry for this, sir.”

Jaesung peered up at Luca, who met his gaze. The slight narrowing of his eyes had Jaesung taking a step back.