Don't Ask Don't Tell

Chapter 6: My favourite colour is 'expensive'

"Well, isn't this lovely?"
Suga nodded, but on the contrary, all he could think about was how violently underdressed he felt. Slick, shiny surfaces, marble and gold, priceless artwork, Suga felt like this was much too rich for him.
"Hmm, they're having an auction next weekend, actually," V said, studying something that a very starstruck intern had handed him upon entry. "What a prime idea to get some new decor, don't you think?"
Suga felt his brain nearly explode out the back of his head. New decor? New. Decor. These paintings were worth more than Suga could ever even imagine, and V was referring to it as new decor? Who referred to priceless works of art as decor?
"How old are you?" Suga asked. V looked up fleetingly.
"I just turned seventeen. And you?"
"I'm, uh. I'm fifteen."
Suga watched as V shrugged and went back to his reading. He sipped at a crystalline glass of champagne he'd taken from an equally as excitable but different intern. He had taken an entire gallery for private viewing. Suga didn't even know something like that was possible. He supposed that if you had enough money, anything was possible. The entire place gleamed so brightly it almost hurt Suga's eyes.
"You're seventeen and you have this kind of money?"
Suga looked at his own threadbare clothing. This was all he had.
"Mm-hmm. I started out when I was twelve. I had a good head start."
Suga nearly choked. "Twelve?"
"Twelve," V answered. "It was a good gig then. Better now."
"Yeah, clearly. Good enough that you can pay random people's rent and purchase the entire Gucci catalogue."
"Hey, if you have the money..." V said, looking up and smiling warmly.
Suga didn't reply. This was surreal. He had to be dreaming. No seventeen-year-old would ever have this amount of wealth and power.
V's hand, soft and warm, brushing across Suga's shoulders felt too real for this to be a dream. V seemed to like spending his money on Suga, and Suga fucking needed money right now. What could go wrong?
Everything, Suga thought. But who was going to ever know? It wasn't like V was going to tell anyone. He couldn't. He was as bad if not worse. And Suga really, really needed this. It could be temporary. It didn't have to be for forever. Just for now.

When they arrived at V's house, Suga was taken aback. He'd never seen so much luxury in one place before. For one, his entire apartment could fit in V's front room. His entire apartment building could fit in V's front room. A massive crystal chandelier cast rainbows dancing across the room from the sunlight caught by the massive bay windows absolutely everywhere. Suga could see a horde of people scurrying around in what looked like a giant industrial kitchen, separated by a window overlooking the massive marble staircase with thick red velvet stair runners. The floors were so immaculately clean Suga could see his reflection, and he would trust it enough to eat off of. Priceless works of fine art hung on the beautifully contrasting black walls.
"Welcome!"
V barely had the time to make a grand sweeping gesture to begin a no-doubt dramatic introduction when a flurry of valets descended the stairs in a uniform, single-file line. They hit the bottom of the stairs and spread out in front of them.
"Welcome home, Mr. Kim." one of them said. They were immaculately dressed, and disturbingly, absurdly attractive. Did pretty people just congregate in groups?
"Thank you, Minghao," V said, while who Suga assumed was Minghao took his jacket.
"Your coat, sir?" another one asked. Suga looked at him in bewildered silence. He'd never had someone take his jacket for him.
"Mr. Kim, sir? No disrespect meant, but is your friend a bit... slow?"
"Jackson," V said in a warning tone.
"Where are you taking it?" Suga asked. They all collectively looked at him like he was a very adorable, confused child. It seemed only then that they collectively looked him up and down, eyes drinking in his shirt that was three washes away from falling apart.
"Mr. Kim? Is he... a commoner?" Jackson asked the same way he might ask if Suga had cancer.
"Don't be ridiculous." V scoffed. "A commoner. You're quite the piece of work, you are."
Suga was amazed at V's ability to say "commoner" like one might say "tapeworm."
"Sehun."
"Yes, Mr. Kim?"
"Take his coat," V ordered. Suddenly, a pair of impeccably manicured hands were on his shoulders, and Suga went along with it. He assumed he had no choice in the matter. Not asking questions was sometimes the better option.
Suga watched them walk over to a massive set of mahogany double-doors, which split to reveal possibly hundreds of just-dry cleaned suit jackets and sports coats. His denim jacket, worn and patchy, nearly falling apart, stood out like a sore thumb, obviously not like the others. How much did all of that cost? Suga could only imagine. The very suit on V's shoulders right now cost more than his rent, how many more just like it did he have?
V started walking, and Suga followed without so much as a word. V opened a massive oak door to a small study that smelt of tobacco, old books, and cinnamon. It was magnificent but lonely. Suga had noticed that there wasn't so much as a plant in sight. Not another living thing in the entire place. A glorious mansion in the countryside was nice, but it was lonely.
Suga watched as V lit a cigarette. It hung betwixt baby-pink lips, and Suga would be lying if he said it wasn't a little suggestive.
Suddenly, it was very warm in here.
"You, uh. You shouldn't smoke, you know." Suga said as V exhaled a cloud of bluish-grey smoke. "It's not good for you."
"Who cares?"
"I care."
They sat in silence for a long time, seemingly at a stalemate. Suga looked at the utterly endless bookshelves, noting a singular human-looking skull he sure hoped was just a piece of interesting decor and not the real thing. As he noticed a rusty-coloured stain on the carpet that looked suspiciously like blood, he wasn't so certain that it was a fake skull after all.
That brought Suga back to the present. V was a full-on, cold-blooded killer. He was sitting in the office of a fucking psychopath. V was dangerous.
But right now, he looked like a very lonely child looking for a friend. Suga felt bad for him. Even though V was fucking loaded, there was nobody to share his wealth with. He was all on his own in this massive house. Suga would have gone absolutely batshit if he was V.
"Where the hell are your parents?" Suga asked.
V sighed. "Father is in Shanghai right now. He didn't say when he would be coming back. He never tells me, anyway. And mother died when I was eight."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Suga said, not sure how to answer that one. "That must have been terrible."
"It isn't so bad. Ever since, though, I've basically been on my own. Work takes precedence over me for Father."
"That's awful."
"It's alright," V answered, shrugging.
Suga thought about his own father. Sure, he wasn't the best, and he was gone a lot, but Suga always had an idea of when he would come back. Suga couldn't imagine what it would be like to not know when your father would be home. Suga always at least had an idea.
"How badly have you ever lost at Mario Kart?" V asked.
"Well, you can't lose if you've never played," Suga answered, smirking.
"We're going to have to fix that, aren't we?"
Suga nodded. "If you insist. Lead the way."