Wishing Well ||Wooyu||

Your House, My House

Your house, my house

Maybe this is where we belong

☾

Wooseok blinked once.

Twice.

The upturned corners of the boy's pretty mouth were so enticing that he had barely registered what was being said to him. Not that it made any sense anyway, he was one hundred percent sure he had misunderstood. Why would this stranger ask him if he was hungry, as if offering to cater dinner in his own house? 

"Adachi!"

The deep, governing voice of Shin Dong Geun resonated from the great hall of the mansion. His team had returned. He glanced back at the boy, seeing how for just a mere second, a sliver of dread showered of his pretty features. Very slight, almost unnoticeable, the same way his bones stiffened and his back automatically straightened up. 

"Excuse me."

He rushed past Wooseok, leaving behind him a faint trace of vanilla, the same sweet scent Wooseok detected at the entrance.

*

Wooseok grimaced at the mud footprints caused by reckless heavy boots, old and unwashed, on his formerly pristine kitchen floor. His eye twitched as Dongeun loudly, barbarically gulped down a cheap, foully-odoured beer right into his left ear. He tried to concentrate instead on the elegant pair of hips that swayed from side to side, and delicate fingers working the water kettle at the kitchen counter.

"Thought you died or sum'n' " the older man mumbled, voice rough of cheap alcohol. Wooseok stifled another grimace. "So, did you find it?"

"Do I look like I found it?"

Dongeun laughed loudly, vulgarly.

"You look like you just lost your whore at a poker game." Wooseok's eye twitched. "Listen," a large hand, heavy with crusty unwashed dirt, landed on his shoulder and Wooseok fought the urge to smack it into the nearest wall. "We don't need the scrolls."

Wooseok frowned at the man, looking at him properly for the first time since their encounter. Yes, they do need the scrolls. They were the only ones left that contained the translations of the ancient vanished Chinese dialect. They were crucial for their next raid of the tomb. Unless he's trying to tell him he's found another way. Dongeun's eyes signaled to the pretty boy now pouring steaming green tea into fancy china, and then back at Wooseok.

"Where did you get this kid from?" Wooseok asked, visibly annoyed. Dongeun smirked.

"You're looking at Yuto Adachi. Son of Matsuo and Yume Adachi."

"Adachi, as THE Adachi?"

"Exactly"

"Why the fuck did you bring their kid here, man? You were supposed to get the old man. Did you kill him?"

"Almost, but obviously I wouldn't have. Killing him means bringing the search for the damn artifacts to a fucking halt, I'm not a fucking idiot."

Wooseok would've loved to contest that but he bit his tongue.  The Adachi family came from a line of Great Gengo-Gagusha, and as far as it was known, they were the last kin left in Japan since the second world war ended the lives of the other three. Matsuo Adachi was the only person that could speak the dead Chinese dialect that most of the tombs are littered with. The plan was for them to bribe the old man, capture him, torture him, anything as long as they got him to translate the ancient riddles. The language was rarely written, and mostly spoken, like a secret code between the three nations that hid their precious treasure in the tomb. 

"So why do you have their kid and not the fucking guy?" Wooseok was getting impatient. Dongeun hasn't wiped that annoying grin off his face ever since the beginning of this quickly infuriating conversation.

"Kiddo, here, can translate it for us."

Wooseok regarded him intently. 

"He can?"

Dongeun nodded his head yes. So that means Matsuo Adachi DID pass it on. As far as everyone was aware, the old man vowed to take the ancient language to his grave.

"Don't get me wrong," Dongeun began as he took another loud gulp of his beer. "I went for the old man at first. Didn't need no fucking children around, I ain't no fucking babysitter. But you should've seen him. Yuto Adachi. Throwing himself at my feet, begging me to take him instead."

Wooseok could easily picture it as his eyes followed Yuto's thin shadow in the kitchen corner. 

"Obviously, his old man protested, he was screaming like a fucking maniac not to take his boy, his only boy. Which only made me want him more."

Wooseok felt a strange sensation filling him up from the stomach and exploding into an unbearable heat at the base of his throat. Perhaps it was vomit.

"What's gonna happen now, then?" He asked, pushing his emotions down to apathy.

Dongeun snorted.

"He's gonna come with us to China, obviously."

Wooseok remained silent and emotionless.

" 'Till then, just enjoy the view." Dongeun grinned and Wooseok could hardly hide his grimacing face.