he doesn’t like the club all that much. he doesn’t like the way the burly men at the entrance eye him suspiciously through wrinkles and sweat and only let him in because hyungwon told them to. he doesn’t like the way the place smells of the sticky medicine the patrons toss back glass after glass or the steady pulsing thrum of the music that shakes the building like cannon fire.
normally he makes a point of coming before business hours, but he’d got caught up napping on a rooftop after leaving mundy police officers in his dust. they kept telling him stealing was ‘illegal’ and he kept telling them he didn’t even know how to spell illegal. and he’d promised the merman that he’d pay him a visit today. and though peter’s enemies would fight the very thought with their lives, his friends would assure that peter pan was a boy of his word.
he has the pool in sight, starts his tricky weaving beeline through shifting bodies, mundy and fable alike, only to be stopped in his tracks by a trio of young mundy women with hands that cling to his clothes like brambles and wet seaweed.
they coo at him, tell him he hardly looks old enough to be in a place like this, giggle when his nervous, charming laughter melts away, when cheeks flush and his face goes hard. their perfumes suffocate him like a cloud, their nails are sharp and painted, like their faces, and all he is aware of is hands in his hair, hands on his arms, hands on his back. we’ll take care of you, one says. another asks him what he’s drinking, offers him the sticky sweet medicine swirling red and bright in her glass. the third drags a hand down his forearm, starts to tangle fingers with his, and he snatches his hand away. they only laugh, pressing in further, surrounding him like sharks in open water.
something wells up inside of him that he isn’t familiar with, something too hot and too much; it’s strange and uncomfortable and he doesn’t like it.
he knows what he’d do if he was in neverland and surrounded by deadly creatures with not a friend in sight.
his hand hovers toward the familiar handle of his blade, resting in his pocket, even as hands continue to muss his hair and touch his cheek and tug at the fabric of his shirt. his heart pounds in his ears, almost as loud as the music, and he’s already counting down the moments until he can catch his captors unaware, until he can cut them down and break free from their clutches.
he doesn’t notice his friend parting crowds, on his way to save him, his hand sliding into his pocket and closes around the handle of the dagger.
there is no attention paid to wandering eyes as he walks dripping through the club.
theirs is not a club that would initially find this strange anyway; he’s used to eyes staring at his usually shirtless form and so it does not bother hyungwon as he stalks over in just a towel. there’s a clear set of his jaw and a fury in his eyes that would rival the anger in ocean waves, and there is no doubt that he is the fury of the seas himself. if a mermaid can be blamed for ocean’s tragedy, then hyungwon has no problem causing one here tonight.
and maybe it is a good idea that he’s getting himself involved. peter does not look like peter among the girls who brush their fingers along his arm, and even hyungwon can see it plain through narrowed eyes. that’s the problem with mundies sometimes, they clearly can’t read a mood. but just the fact that they’re picking on The peter pan makes him almost bemused, but more so - worried. there’s a reason why he likes it when peter comes to the club in the off hours of the day.
this isn’t the kind of club for the picture of feral youth.
his eyes catch peter’s hand moving towards his pocket before the girls do, but more so - grits his teeth at the way they tease him, touch him, try to make him theirs. it almost makes him sick, and so his steps begin to slow as he approaches but the expression on his face, still stormy, is just as violent as before. peter pan is a boy and not a man, and he’s almost tempted to allow the dagger he knows lies deep in that pocket to slice them up, to gut them, to mar their pretty faces -
but that would be bad for business.
a low sigh escapes through gritted teeth, and hyungwon begins again his stalked approach. he’s only a few feet from them now and when he finally manages to reach the small group, he tugs on peter’s hand, wedges himself between the clutches of the three only to maneuver peter out of sight behind him. he doesn’t really give a shit about the looks of disdain in their eyes or the curling of their lips. ( if he was back in neverland - no, if no one was around, he’d bash their heads against the bartop. ) “ sorry. he was supposed to be meeting me.” he hums at them, crooning words that he knows will pacify and hypnotize.
he keeps peter behind him with a grip tight around his wrist, not because he’s afraid of the attack but more out of a form of protective ( possessive ) endearment. “ it’s late. you three should be heading home, shouldn’t you?” he raises a brow, the croon in his voice turning heads and drawing interest to him but still - hyungwon doesn’t care. he just wants them gone before he himself destroys them all where they stand. “ besides, i’ve got some business with him. you’d be much happier in your beds.”
they gather their things without a word, the looks of disdain slowly disappearing and instead being replaced by chatting like nothing even happened, like nothing was amiss. he turns his head with narrowed eyes to look at peter behind him, to hope that the croon of his tone didn’t affect him like the others. “ let’s go, peter.”
and still, he doesn’t let go of peter’s wrist.
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