Caesar chuckled, watching him over the rim of his own glass. "Didn't know you liked your drinks loud."
"I like my drinks like I like my insults—sharp, unapologetic, and possibly illegal," Eun-jae replied, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh. "Unlike your personality. Yours is just bland and dangerous."
Caesar sat beside him, one leg crossed lazily over the other, his movements as calculated as a chess piece. "I'm an acquired taste."
"Like moldy cheese," Eun-jae quipped.
"Like vintage wine," Caesar corrected with a smirk. "You'll come to crave it."
"Or choke on it," Eun-jae muttered, but his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. He swirled the glass, ice clinking gently, then took another sip and leaned back, eyes closing for a second as the alcohol did its job.
Caesar turned slightly to face him more. "You know," he said in a voice just a little too smooth, "drinks like this are best shared with people you trust."
Eun-jae cracked one eye open and gave him a look. "And yet here I am sharing it with the human embodiment of trust issues."
Caesar let out a low laugh, leaning closer, their knees brushing. "You say that, but you haven't walked away."
"Yet," Eun-jae shot back, not budging an inch. "One more word and I will."
"You won't," Caesar said, voice dropping lower, almost intimate. "You're too curious."
"Curious about how far I can throw you off a balcony, maybe."
Caesar tilted his head, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "You like dancing on the edge, Eun-jae. That's what makes you so fun."
Eun-jae leaned in too, their faces inches apart, breath mingling with the scent of gin and defiance. "And you like pushing people over that edge. That's what makes you so exhausting."
The silence between them was hot, electric, charged. Two stubborn flames refusing to go out.
And then Eun-jae raised his glass and clinked it against Caesar's. "To chaos."
"To you," Caesar said, eyes locked on him.
The low hum of jazz crackled from the vintage gramophone in the corner of the room, setting a moody rhythm as the night deepened. The bottle of Bombay Sapphire was already half empty, and the glow of amber whisky shimmered in both their glasses. Eun-jae was definitely tipsy now—his cheeks flushed pink, his voice a little looser, a bit more honest, and way more dangerous.
He poured himself another generous drink, ice clinking lazily in the glass. He leaned back on the couch, one leg draped over the other, his gaze fixed on Caesar with lazy interest and a mischievous sparkle dancing in his eyes.
"So…" Eun-jae began, drawing the word out like it was a secret he was peeling open. "When you were out… I got bored. Went snooping a little."
Caesar raised a brow, his lips twitching at the corners. "Of course, you did."
Eun-jae ignored the remark and continued, swirling his drink slowly. "Ended up in that creepy-ass art studio of yours. Real haunted vibes, by the way."
Caesar gave a single slow blink, saying nothing yet.
"And…" Eun-jae said with a teasing grin, tilting his head, "I saw a bunch of sketches. Of this one guy. Same face. Over and over. Gorgeous face, not gonna lie. Didn't want to be nosy but... just asking. Who was he?"
Caesar didn't respond at first—just leaned back into the couch with a soft chuckle, lighting a cigarette like he needed the smoke to soften the memory. He exhaled slowly, letting the gray cloud drift between them before speaking.
"That…" he said, voice quieter, but laced with that strange cold fondness, "was my ex."
Eun-jae blinked, surprised by how easily Caesar said it. "Oh. Damn. What happened? Like—why did y'all break up?"
There was another beat of silence. Caesar's lips curled into a tired smile. "He died," he said simply. "Got himself killed."
Eun-jae immediately sobered just a little, his smirk slipping. "Shit—wait, are you serious? I—I'm sorry. I didn't know, I shouldn't have—"
"No, no," Caesar cut in, waving his hand dismissively. "It's fine. Really. I'm okay. Everyone dies one day, right?" He laughed—light, brittle, like glass cracking.
Eun-jae looked at him, glass paused halfway to his lips. "Damn… that's cold, even for you."
Caesar took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled with a thoughtful expression. "It's how I survive."
Then, he leaned forward slightly, tapping the ash into the tray. "He was also pregnant, you know."
Eun-jae froze. The glass hit the table a little harder than intended. "...Excuse me?"
"Yeah." Caesar smiled faintly, almost fond. "We found out a week before he was killed. It was... supposed to be a good thing."
Eun-jae's expression softened for a split second. "I didn't know... That's... a lot, Caesar."
Caesar's gaze stayed on the cigarette, lips twitching slightly. "Yeah."
There was a long silence between them, the kind that lingered in the bones.
"So what did you do?" Eun-jae finally asked, voice quieter now. "To the people that killed him?"
That's when Caesar's grin returned—slow, sharp, and absolutely unhinged.
"Take a wild guess," he said, his voice silky-smooth but with an edge that cut like a knife. "Let's just say I didn't call the cops."
Eun-jae didn't speak, just narrowed his eyes, knowing full well Caesar wasn't the kind to turn the other cheek.
"I made sure every last one of them suffered," Caesar continued, his grin widening into something unsettling. "His syndicate, his family, even the bastard who gave the order. Slow. One by one. I studied them like art. Every scream, every tear, every pathetic plea for mercy. Beautiful."
"You're insane," Eun-jae muttered, stunned.
"No," Caesar said, flicking the ash again, "I was in love."
Eun-jae leaned back slowly, blinking. "So you decided to go full Greek tragedy about it."
Caesar let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "They burned my world. So I buried theirs. And guess what?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. "Some of them didn't even wait for me to reach them. Guilt ate them alive. Suicide. Despair. Fear. I didn't even have to touch them."
Eun-jae swallowed hard, the alcohol suddenly not enough to warm the chill that had seeped into his bones. "Okay... yeah. Reminder to never piss you off."
Caesar raised his glass toward him. "Smart choice."
Eun-jae clinked his own glass against it, but his expression stayed wary. "You ever think... maybe that kind of love is a little too toxic?"
Caesar looked at him, eyes unreadable. "Maybe. But it's the only kind I know."
Eun-jae didn't respond right away. He just took another sip, gaze flicking to the window where the snow still drifted gently outside.
And under his breath, so low Caesar barely caught it, Eun-jae muttered, "No wonder you're so fucked up."
Caesar just smiled, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Takes one to know one, darling."
The room had settled into that warm, fuzzy quietness that came after a few drinks too many, with the low hum of the heating and the occasional clink of glass filling the silence. Caesar was sprawled on the velvet couch like a lazy cat, his long legs kicked out, glass in hand. Eun-jae, meanwhile, had claimed the floor space in front of the coffee table, stretching his legs with a groan as he leaned back against the couch, head slightly tilted up toward the ceiling.
Caesar's voice broke through the mellow quiet, his tone casual but laced with mischief.
"So... do you listen to that... what do they call it again? K-pop?" he asked, twirling the ice in his glass.
Eun-jae side-eyed him suspiciously. "Why? You tryna say something slick already?"
Caesar smirked. "No, no," he said, raising his free hand in mock defense. "I genuinely don't know anything about it. Isn't it like... a bunch of ridiculously attractive people in coordinated outfits singing and dancing in sync?"
Eun-jae snorted. "Well, yeah, but also no. Don't reduce my babies to that."
"Oh, so they're your babies now?" Caesar said, grinning wide.
"I said don't start," Eun-jae replied with a warning tone, even as a smile tugged at his lips. "I'm not, like, deep in fandom drama or buying albums in bulk. I just vibe with the music. They're talented as hell."
Caesar tilted his head, genuinely curious. "Alright then, enlighten me. Who's your favorite group?"
Without hesitation, Eun-jae said, "Stray Kids and TWICE. Hands down."
Caesar blinked. "Those are actual names?"
"Yes, you uncultured goat," Eun-jae muttered, reaching for his drink again. "Stray Kids are like... raw energy, powerful stage presence, emotionally wrecking lyrics. And TWICE? They're literal serotonin wrapped in glitter. Iconic queens."
Caesar chuckled. "You sound like you're pitching me a cult."
"Oh shut up," Eun-jae said, playfully smacking his leg. "Give me your phone."
"For what?"
"So I can show you. You asked, didn't you?"
Caesar hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're not gonna install a GPS tracker on it or some shady spyware, right?"
Eun-jae rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out. "God, you're dramatic. Just hand it over before I hex your expensive wine stash."
With a dramatic sigh, Caesar fished his phone from his pocket and handed it over, muttering, "If I end up getting weird fan edits on my feed tomorrow, I'm blaming you."
Eun-jae took the phone, already typing in YouTube. "Please. Your algorithm needs cleansing anyway. Probably full of murder documentaries and sad jazz."
"Accurate," Caesar admitted under his breath.
Eun-jae pulled up a Stray Kids live stage and pressed play. The screen filled with flashing lights, synchronized dance moves, and powerful vocals. He tilted the phone so Caesar could watch. "Now that is performance. Look at them—precision, fire, charisma."
Caesar squinted at the screen, lips pursed. "Which one is the leader?"
"Bang Chan. That one," Eun-jae pointed confidently, a little proud. "Australian-Korean, all-rounder, emotionally intelligent, total dad vibes."
Caesar frowned, actually watching. "He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks."
"Because he probably hasn't," Eun-jae said, laughing. "These idols get run into the ground. It's rough."
Caesar hummed. "And which one do you like the most?"
"I.N," Eun-jae replied without missing a beat. "Maknae. Youngest member. He's got this innocent chaos energy I love. Also, great vocals."
Caesar raised an eyebrow. "You like chaotic people. Noted."
Eun-jae shot him a look. "I'm literally sitting with you. You're peak chaos."
Caesar tilted his head in acknowledgment, grinning. "Touché. And TWICE?"
Eun-jae switched the video to a TWICE performance. "These girls? Literal legends. Queens of concept. They can go from bubblegum pop to dark femme fatale real quick."
Caesar leaned in a bit as one member winked at the camera. "Which one's your favorite?"
"Nayeon," Eun-jae answered with a soft grin. "She's got that playful energy. Flirty but sweet. Kind of like if you put sunshine in human form, but also made it mildly dangerous."
Caesar laughed. "You're weirdly poetic about this."
Eun-jae shrugged, still scrolling. "I admire people who work hard to bring joy. Especially in a world that tries to suck it out of you."
Caesar's smirk faded just slightly, eyes lingering on him for a beat too long.
"Interesting," he said quietly, almost thoughtfully.
Eun-jae, sensing the shift, handed the phone back. "Alright, that's enough education for one night. Go back to listening to dead composers and plotting murder."
Caesar chuckled. "What if I said I actually liked that last song?"
"I'd say you have taste," Eun-jae replied, leaning back on the couch with a smirk. "And maybe a soul after all."
"Don't ruin my reputation," Caesar said, tossing a pillow at him.
Eun-jae caught it with one hand, grinning. "Too late. You're now officially a K-pop sympathizer."
Caesar groaned dramatically. "God help me."
Eun-jae swirled the whisky in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light as it spun. He had kicked his feet up on the couch now, his head lazily resting against the back cushion, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. The soft echo of the last TWICE song still hung faintly in the air, like a ghost refusing to leave the party.
"So what about you?" he asked, voice relaxed but still sharp as ever. "What kind of music do you listen to, huh? Or do you just meditate to the sound of people crying?"
Caesar snorted, lifting his glass with a smirk. "Funny."
"I try," Eun-jae replied, grinning as he took another sip. "So? Spill."
Caesar leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking to the ceiling thoughtfully, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm on his glass. "Hmm... I don't really have a 'type,' if I'm honest."
Eun-jae squinted at him. "Of course you don't."
"I'm serious," Caesar said, with a chuckle, tone smooth and low. "If it sounds good, if it calms my head or stirs something in my chest—then yeah, I'll listen to it. I don't care about genre or lyrics, or how trendy it is. Could be a violin solo, could be a trap beat. As long as it hits right... I vibe with it."
Eun-jae stared at him, blinking once. "Wow."
"What?"
"You just said a whole lotta words to say 'I like vibes.'"
Caesar laughed. "What do you want from me? I'm complicated."
"No, you're just allergic to being specific," Eun-jae teased, pointing his glass at him. "You give the same answer to everything. 'What's your favorite food?' 'Anything edible.' 'What's your type?' 'Someone with a pulse.' Be so fr."
"Alright, fine," Caesar said, grinning, setting his drink down on the table with a soft clink. "You want specific?"
"Please."
"I like classical at night. The slow kind. Something with a cello. Makes the silence feel... less lonely," he said, voice dipping lower, more intimate. "When I'm working—something dark. Electronic, instrumental, experimental. I like sounds that feel like the inside of my brain. Twisted. Chaotic. Clean."
Eun-jae blinked again, a little caught off guard. "Okay, damn."
"And," Caesar added, flashing a smug little grin, "I sometimes listen to sultry French jazz when I cook."
Eun-jae laughed so hard he nearly choked on his drink. "French jazz? While you cook? What are you, a Bond villain on his day off?"
"I like the aesthetic," Caesar shrugged coolly. "Makes the wine taste better."
"I don't even know if I like you or hate you right now, still hate you tho" Eun-jae said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're a walking enigma."
"That's the idea," Caesar replied, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting. "I like being hard to figure out. Keeps people curious."
"You just like being difficult."
Caesar tilted his head. "Same thing."
Eun-jae rolled his eyes, then lifted his glass in a mock-toast. "Well, cheers to your tragic taste in music and your vague emotional trauma playlist."
Caesar clinked his glass against Eun-jae's with a small, knowing smirk. "Cheers to your bubblegum pop and sparkly serotonin queens."
"They're icons. Don't disrespect them," Eun-jae said, but the corner of his mouth was twitching in amusement.
There was a pause. The kind that's not awkward, but weighted. Comfortable. The kind of silence that said, we're not done yet, we're just breathing.
Then Caesar, ever the smooth instigator, asked, "So... if I wanted to make a playlist for you—something that's a little bit of me, a little bit of you—what songs would you want on it?"
Eun-jae blinked again, then raised an eyebrow, his tone immediately suspicious. "Why are you asking like you're trying to seduce me through Spotify?"
Caesar shrugged, smiling. "Because I am."
"You're so unserious," Eun-jae muttered, shaking his head like he was trying to rattle loose the absurdity of the conversation.
He stood up from the couch, glass dangling between his fingers like it weighed a thousand pounds. His voice dropped, quieter this time—almost like he was talking to himself. "Christmas is approaching soon…" He exhaled slowly, eyes glazed with just enough whisky and homesickness to make his chest ache. "I just wish I was back home… celebrating it with my mom."
Then, louder—sharper—he added, "But nope. I've been kidnapped by a total psychopath."
The words sliced through the air like a dagger tossed with flair.
Behind him, Caesar didn't react immediately. He was leaning against the table, still holding his glass, eyes lazily following Eun-jae's every movement like a cat tracking prey. Then he placed one hand dramatically over his heart.
"I'm hurt," he said, tone drenched in mockery. "Psychopath? After everything I've done for you?"
"Oh, you mean the kidnapping?" Eun-jae turned to face him fully now, his tone spiking with venomous sarcasm. "The raping me for a whole week? And raping me again . Turning me into an omega without asking—without even the decency to explain what the hell was happening to my body? Yeah, thanks for that. Really thoughtful Christmas gift."
Caesar's expression didn't crack, but something behind his eyes shifted—just a flicker of something unreadable.
"And let's not forget the imprisonment, the constant threats, the gaslighting and emotional terrorism—very cozy vibes, Caesar," Eun-jae added, folding his arms, his tone rising in layered defiance. "You should get this whole experience featured on Airbnb. Five stars. Kidnap me again."
A long pause settled between them. Not the comfortable kind from earlier—no, this one was thick, suffocating, acidic. The kind of silence that dares someone to flinch first.
Caesar finally set his glass down, the sound of it tapping against the marble counter echoing just a little too loud.
"I'm not sorry," he said simply.
Eun-jae's brows shot up. "Oh? Color me shocked."
"I'm not sorry," Caesar repeated, stepping forward slowly. "Because if I hadn't done those things, we wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't be looking at me like that. Talking to me like this. I wouldn't have had the pleasure of peeling back every layer of you—watching you crack, then rebuild, then snap again."
"That's not love, Caesar. That's control."
He stopped just inches away from Eun-jae now. "Control," he said, with that lazy, dangerous smile. "Love. Obsession. Survival. Call it whatever the hell you want, baby—but don't pretend you haven't felt something shift between us."
"I hate you," Eun-jae snapped.
"And yet," Caesar whispered, "you're still here. Drinking my whisky. Wearing my clothes. Breathing my air."
Eun-jae scoffed, turning away like he couldn't stand the sight of him—like his body betrayed him by not running far enough.
"That's because I can't leave. Not because I want to stay," he muttered.
"Don't lie to me," Caesar said softly behind him. "You can lie to yourself all you want, but not to me. I know you, Eun-jae. Every expression. Every twitch. Every angry heartbeat. I could recite your hatred like poetry."
"And you'd still be a villain in every stanza," Eun-jae said, voice shaking slightly but steady enough to sting.
Caesar's smile turned colder, more intimate.
"I never promised to be the hero," he murmured. "Heroes can't protect what they love the way I do."
Eun-jae turned to him then, eyes flaring. "You think this is protection?"
"I think it's survival," Caesar said. "In a world full of monsters, I just made sure you belonged to the worst one."
The silence that followed was electric—rage and tension dancing between them like flames licking at gasoline.
Eun-jae clenched his jaw, then grabbed the bottle of whisky and poured himself another drink with a steady hand. His voice came out lower now—raw, edged.
"I hope one day you meet someone who makes you feel exactly like this," he said. "Confused. Hurt. Torn between setting them on fire or begging them not to leave."
Caesar raised his glass again, almost toasting to the curse.
"I already did," he said.
And the look he gave Eun-jae—hungry, haunted, and utterly fixated—made it crystal clear who he meant.