Chapter Text
The death of Dr. Jeon Wonwoo was just as much of a surprise as the sudden rain that fell upon his grave the morning he was laid to rest.
A makeshift tent was quickly constructed over the burial plot. Those who remained after the funeral service shared the cramped space under partitioned umbrellas. It was a light rain, not to the point where it soaked through their shoes, but enough to make the whole event that much more miserable.
By all logic, his death didn’t make any sense. At least, for how young and healthy he was it shouldn’t make sense. His profession as a successful and recognized doctor made it all the more puzzling when the news hit the community of his passing.
But death comes for us all.
Yoon Jeonghan knew that fact all too well.
His hand clutched the handle of his umbrella, so tight his knuckles were starting to turn white. The rain encouraged his tears, even if he had already spilled plenty at the ceremony. Faint streaks of black ink lined his cheeks from mascara that was supposedly waterproof. As the coffin was lowered down into the earth, a strangled sob escaped his lips, making Seungkwan hold tighter to his free hand beside him.
The rain eventually subsided, leaving behind an uncomfortable humidity in the air. Jeonghan was the last to stand by his husband’s grave, reading the name and death date over and over until it was engraved in his memory. Eventually, when he felt like enough time had passed, he kneels down, taking out a delicate white-petaled flower from his suit jacket pocket to lay it delicately on top of the freshly placed soil.
“Thank you, darling,” he mutters softly before standing, brushing the dirt from his dress pants, and turning from the gravestone.
He makes sure to give a lingering glance back before he reaches the car.
Seungkwan sits in the drivers seat, donning a pair of dark sunglasses now that the sun had peaked through the gray clouds that still lingered above them. The windshield wipers were the only sound accompanying the heavy atmosphere in the car as Jeonghan slips silently into the passenger seat.
“Does it get easier?”
Jeonghan slips on his own pair of sunglasses, sitting back in his seat. A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he responds, glancing down at his diamond wedding ring as it sparkles in the dim sunlight.
The sight makes him smile.
“Every time.”
Wonwoo had been a doting and gentle husband, much like Jeonghan’s previous lovers. He’d learned over time he definitely had a type, at least that he sought out on purpose. Gentle souls with deep pockets who would never see him coming.
They’d met by fabricated happenstance. Dr. Jeon was being honored for an Excellence in Service Award, given out annually to those who have made discoveries or great accomplishments in medicine. The venue took place at the local art museum downtown, and Jeonghan, of course, being a generous donor to the museum, was invited to attend. One introduction was all it took, and the two of them found themselves in a quick and easy love, like they had been made for each other all along.
Wonwoo was the dictionary definition of a work-a-holic. Jeonghan often teased that he was his second husband, as Wonwoo was already married to his work. This didn’t bother Jeonghan much, in truth, it helped him not get too attached. However, it was still a difficult task.
He wasn’t much of a drinker, coffee or otherwise, so Jeonghan had to be creative.
Returning home after the service to an empty home was always a bit eerie, but in more ways than one, he was grateful that he had slept in a different room than his now late-husband. Wonwoo had always worked odd hours and felt terrible if he woke Jeonghan in the early morning when he slipped from bed. Despite Jeonghan’s protests, he insisted, and made his old office and storage space a sleeping quarters for him. Of course, there were nights where they stayed together, wrapped in sheets and naked limbs on rare days where Wonwoo could sleep in for once. His career worked well for him, it was a lot easier to be on call as a man who couldn’t sit still and had insomniac tendencies. Jeonghan, the concerned and a bit prone to nag partner, would harp on him constantly to get more rest and stop skipping meals. Wonwoo would always wave him off, he knew his body, he could handle this.
Fine, but at least let me help you try and sleep better, Jeonghan insisted. He installed a humidifier in Wonwoo’s room and made sure to keep it filled with specific essential oils in hopes to calm his mind enough to fall asleep quicker. It did seem to have a slight improvement on his sleep quality. The scent of lavender and chamomile soon became a scent of home, the comforts of his loving husband.
It was only about a month later, just after he had worked a long surgery procedure, where his heart gave out.
It was all too sudden.
The surgery had been successful, but it seemed to have cost the good doctor his life.
There had been no signs of an allergic reaction to the essential oils, Jeonghan was reassured. It was determined his body was just under a lot of stress, likely from years without proper sleep and the pressures of his occupation since the hospital had been low on staff within the last year. Jeonghan was nonetheless stricken with guilt, feeling like there was more he could have done, signs he had missed. The community gathered to support him, encouraging him to seek counseling and that they’d be happy to invite him over for meals in the weeks before his funeral. His friends made sure to never leave him alone, always by his side or calling to check in every hour like clockwork.
He was the grieving husband, picture perfect, dictionary defined.
That night, the rain came back with a vengeance, splattering against the floor to ceiling windows of the Jeon penthouse — or now, more accurately, the Yoon penthouse. Jeonghan watched the rain race down the windows, the colors of the city below warping into a blur of reds and greens through the downpour. He barely looked up when Seungkwan settled a half-full wine glass in his hands.
“I liked Wonwoo,” he says with a sigh, as Seungkwan sat beside him on the long couch, “he was quite funny when he wanted to be.” Jeonghan brought the wine to his lips, hardly tasting it as he swallowed as quick as he could to speak again. “Though he did make things more difficult. He was almost too nice. Well, to me at least.”
Seungkwan sighed, sipping his own white wine, “I actually teared up at the service this time. Had to remind myself he wasn’t the squeaky clean doctor everyone thought he was.”
Jeonghan leans back against the cushions, “everyone has their secrets. Makes it easier to do what I do.”
The phone on the coffee table pings. Seungkwan leans forward to pick it up, “Seokmin’s caught up with work, they’re making him stay late again. He says he’s sorry with like…one, two, three…eight crying emojis.”
Dismissively with a smile, Jeonghan waves his hand, “fine, but he owes us drinks.” Seungkwan types back a reply as Jeonghan continues talking, “with Joshua it was all trial and error, finding the right dose for his coffee every morning until he didn’t show symptoms. He was a creature of habit, unfortunately for him. Hao was even easier, the man was so obsessed with me he thought I could do no wrong, and god did the man love his tea. Wonwoo was a challenge, but I admired him for that.”
He expected a scoff or laugh from Seungkwan, but all he got was silence. He lifts his head to glance over at him, seeing the younger man now typing away on his own phone. A cheeky smile turns into a giggle as he bites his lip at whatever he was seeing on his screen.
“You’re not even listening to me!”
“Hm?” His eyes glance up, wide as if he had just been caught doing something wrong, “No, I heard you! Something about tea?”
Jeonghan scoffs but there’s no real frustration in his demeanor.
A single knock raps out behind the main door. Not waiting for a response, Soonyoung enters. A young man with bright eyes and a curved smile graces the room, “sorry I’m late!”
He strides in, holding up two paper grocery bags excitedly. He looks between the two of them, then his shoulders slump, “you started drinking without me?”
Jeonghan stands, setting down his glass and moving over to embrace his friend, “you’re an hour late, Soonie.”
Soonyoung leans into the hug, “I had to pick up a few things. Sorry again for your loss, by the way.”
Seungkwan stands and helps grab the bags, bringing them into the kitchen and setting them on the island counter top. He pulls out bottle after bottle of various drinks, shaking his head in disbelief.
“What did you think of Wonwoo, Soonie?” Seungkwan asks curiously.
Soonyoung, now fully focused on getting himself a drink, helps himself to finding a glass as he responds, “I think I liked him the most out of the three. Though that may just be because he had the deepest pockets.”
“And was eager to share it with you.”
Jeonghan sighs, lounging back down on the designer couch, long legs spread out over the cushions. His hand lays across his forehead, “you two make me feel almost guilty for this.”
Seungkwan scoffs, “you? Guilty? I thought I’d never see the day.” He then swats Soonyoung’s shoulder as he goes a bit heavy handed with his vodka soda. “Easy, Soonyoung. You’re drinking like your husband just died.”
Soonyoung chuckles, “what, I cant drink in commemoration?”
“Speaking of husbands. How are things going with this mystery man you’ve been glowing about?”
Soonyoung lifts himself to sit on the edge of the table, taking a long swig of his drink. He sighs as it hits his throat, making him cough a bit before he responds, “he pretends he doesn’t love me, but I think he’s obsessed.”
Seungkwan rolls his eyes with heavy exaggeration, making Jeonghan chuckle, “think you’ll keep this one then?”
“Oh, absolutely. We may not ever be official, but I’ve got him on a pretty short leash.”
“Congrats,” Seungkwan snarks.
Soonyoung smirks, “and how’s your love life going, Kwan?”
Normally at the mention of a love life, Seungkwan would scoff, saying he doesn’t need a man on his arm to be happy, but this time there’s the faintest tint of pink that dusts his features. He’s quick to change the subject, “isn’t it a little insensitive to talk about our love lives while Hannie is grieving?”
“You started it!”
They turn their attention to Jeonghan as he laughs, sprawled out on the couch. He waves a hand dismissively, “No, no, go on. It distracts me from my misery.”
Soonyoung chuckles, glancing over the penthouse, his eyes landing on a small batch of plants by the windows.
“Is this where the magic happens?” He slides off the counter and strides over to the flowering buds, “is it even safe to be in the same room as them?”
Jeonghan stands and moves over to him, tracing his fingers over the leaves. There’s a deep reverence as he looks over his creations. The plants are relatively small, able to fit in a just about any household plant holder, and look just like any flowering house plant. These delicate gems were a specific product of precise botany. Jeonghan spent years crafting it. Perfecting it.
“It’s only lethal when it’s dried. I wouldn’t recommend eating a petal for fun, though.”
Soonyoung backs away cautiously, deciding to admire the small flowers from a distance. “Brave of you to just keep them lying around.”
Jeonghan shrugs, gently brushing a few petals, “I’m proud of my work,” he replies simply.
His phone buzzes again on the coffee table, and Seungkwan goes over to check it out of habit.
“Unknown number calling.”
“Answer it, it might be my lawyer.”
He lifts the phone to his ear, answering with practiced words, “this is Jeonghan’s phone, can I take a message for him?” His face, usually soft with a smile, fades into furrowed concern, “yeah, he’s right here. Hold on.”
“Hannie? It’s Seokmin…” Seungkwan holds out the phone to him, nerves evident in his eyes and his whispered words.
Jeonghan strides over, taking in a breath to prepare himself, already knowing what to expect. He holds up the phone, “This is Jeonghan.”
Seokmin’s voice comes through the other end, all formal and business, “Yoon Jeonghan? I’m calling from the DT Police Department. We would like to speak with you here at the precinct as soon as possible. There’s a few matters regarding your late husband that are being investigated.”
Jeonghan shifts his tone, “My husband? But they ruled it a heart attack.”
“I understand sir, but it’s a direct request from Detective Choi. It should only be a bit of your time. Tomorrow morning at nine.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a command. Be there at that time.
“Yes, yes of course then. Nine o'clock tomorrow.”
“Please arrive at the main entrance and myself or one of our officers will lead you to the meeting room. See you then, and our condolences for your loss.”
Jeonghan mutters out a word or two of thanks before hanging up the phone. The concern on his face blends with a twinge of annoyance. Had they found something? A trace? A connection?
No.
Impossible.
Another investigator in way over his head. This would be nothing but a waste of his time.
“Seungkwan, I need everything you can find on this Detective Choi.”