our trail of gold ; jeongcheol

Chapter 6

"Hyung, why are you..." Mingyu broke off his sentence to stare at first, blankly at his elder before pressing two fingers to his forehead and sighing loudly – if not a bit too exaggerated. "Since when do you binge eat...ice cream? You hate it. You like fruits. The closest thing you'll eat to ice cream is a frickin' sorbet. I tried to give you ice cream the other day and you threw the shit back at me. Are you sure you're Choi Seungcheol or are you channelling your ex-wife?"

Seungcheol stared sharply from behind the bucket, digging in the metal spoon to scrape out the softness – milky and sinfully sweet. It was bitter on his tongue, sparking a chill that only soft coldness could bring. His loathing of the treat mirrored his own self hate, and he could only explain to the young chief of police by staring back at him with a mouth filled of liquefying substance.

"You know the reason why," he answered, when he swallowed and pressed the lid on top of the tub. His fingers touched to seal the edges, and Mingyu stole a gulp of his beer before he could swipe his hand to stop him.

"Sure I do," the younger grinned, sarcastic smile horrid as the taste heavy in his mouth. "You miss your ex-wife. It's that simple, isn't it Seungcheol?"

Mingyu forever had a habit of sitting on the edges of all his tables, and Seungcheol couldn't protest when the detective was settled on the narrow marble edge, beer bottle grasped with sticky palms and sarcasm lightening to soften his expression.

"After all you've told me, I know you still love him. The pretence of your hate is marvellous, but you can't fool me, or your body. Empty fucking will never satisfy you, nor will your latest business arrangement. Lee Hyori, is it? Think you can really marry her just to honour a favour to her father?"

Seungcheol stole the bottle back just as Mingyu's lips were about to suck the rim. The detective scowled and watched Seungcheol wash down the sickeningly sweet taste that was left lingering on his tongue.

"I don't know," he said, "She's a nice girl..."

"But you don't give a fuck if she's a nice girl or not," Mingyu shot back frankly, "You don't give a fuck about much unless it's me or your ex-wifey. Which brings me back to Jeonghan. Ever since you saw him you've been in a daze. You haven't been to work in three days Seungcheol."

The elder of the two slumped onto the table, arms folded and touching each other. His forehead met the perspiring bucket, and Seungcheol closed his eyes at the cold against his flushed skin.

He was beginning to feel excessively tired. It had accumulated over the years, as he had worked and worked to make himself a better person – financially and physically. He was always a hardworking child, from since his younger days when his parents had instilled in him a good upbringing and stellar background. He had learned to build personality and valour from his standing in their community, and with his social skills he heightened everything into connections and knowing the right people.

It was funny how life came down to that simple fact – knowing people. If you knew the right people it was probable to do anything, to become anything, and Seungcheol remembered his enlightenment of such a factor when he had nearly finished high school.

Nevertheless it was also, he thought, as Mingyu slid off the table top to rest his hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly, a beautiful thing, meeting people. He had come to know a lot of people in his life, lived with them, spoke with them, hung out with them. But there was only one that stood out from the rest, a shining light of reprieve within the nastiness and black of the world.