Chapter Text
Out of all the members of the RFA, he would never have expected Seven - or rather; Saeyoung - to be the first to get married. He didn't begrudge him the happiness he'd found with his bride, not one bit, but it didn't prevent Zen's chest from tightening painfully each time he laid eyes on her. Despite having done everything he could to suppress his own feelings in order to be supportive of the happy couple, jealousy continued to eat away at him beneath the surface.
It might have been easier to move on if he wasn't alone, but despite his efforts, he was still single. He hadn't even managed to find a date to bring to the wedding reception. How could someone so good looking have such poor luck with love? He downed another glass of champagne, not bothering to savor the taste. It wasn't particularly good anyway. Champagne never was.
"Don't you think you've had enough for one evening?" came a familiar voice beside him. He didn't have to look up to know it was Jumin; the last person he wanted to speak to right now. The last person he wanted to speak to in general.
He frowned at the blur of empty champagne glasses assembled on the table in front of him, straining to focus. He hadn't had that many, or at least he couldn't remember having that many. "Lea' me alone," he grumbled, speech slurred.
"I'm about to head home," Jumin went on as if he hadn't heard him, "do you need a lift?"
"Takin' my bike" he replied, starting to push himself up. The far too heavily decorated venue swayed gently back and forth when he stood, or maybe that was just him.
"I cannot let you drive a motorcycle in your condition," Jumin persisted.
What condition? Heartbroken? Zen scowled at him, only belatedly understanding that he was talking about the alcohol he'd consumed. He wasn't that drunk though. He could drive just fine. He took a step away from the chair and immediately tripped over his own feet, barely managing to regain his balance in time to avoid falling flat on his face. Shit, alright, maybe he was that drunk.
"Fine," he allowed. He would have asked someone else to give him a ride instead, but it was getting late, and the number of remaining guests he trusted to drive him home safely was dwindling.
"Good," Jumin said, using what the members of RFA had come to know as his business voice. It ticked Zen off even more than his usual manner of speaking. "I'll ensure your motorcycle is returned to you tomorrow. My driver should already be waiting outside, so let's say our goodbyes quickly."
His driver. Zen snorted softly to himself. As if being able to afford expensive cars wasn't enough without hiring someone to drive them for you as well. Was there anything Jumin didn't pay other people to do for him? It was hard to imagine him even tying his own shoelaces.
Everything was swaying again as he followed him towards the newlywed couple. The two had changed their clothes after the ceremony. She was wearing Saeyoung's tuxedo from earlier, and he was wearing a wedding dress. Not her dress - but a cutesy knee length dress with a lace top and a tulle skirt. Bizarrely, it suited him, just like that damn maid costume had suited him. Normally he'd shy away from that thought, but at the moment it served to distract him from her smile. She had the kind of smile that could light up a room, and at the moment he wasn't sure he could look directly at her face without his eyes starting to water.
"You're leaving already!?" Saeyoung cried, feigning tears of his own. He didn't often behave the way he did in the messenger, but he had been doing so all night, and honestly, who could blame him?
"I have work in the morning," Jumin responded, "and Zen is… what was the word again? Wasted?"
That jerk.
"Am not wasted," Zen protested, giving him a dirty look before turning back to point an accusing finger at the groom in bride's clothing "And Saeyoun'! It migh' be the nigh' of yer weddin', bu ye better be a gentleman to 'er, or else-!"
"It's sweet of you to worry, Zen" came that cheerful voice he'd called her countless times to hear, "but I completely trust Saeyoung. He's harmless as a kitten."
"Meow." Saeyoung contributed, and Zen wrinkled his nose as he felt it start to itch. He'd never quite understood that strange humor the two of them shared. Perhaps that was why he'd failed to connect with her the way Saeyoung did.
"In thad case I'm leavin' befo' my a'ergy acts up" he huffed. He would have stomped off, but he was too dizzy to do anything but shamble towards the door.
To his surprise, Jumin went ahead to open it for him, though he doubted it was out of politeness. He was probably just showing off. ‘Look at me, with my perfect appearance and perfect manners, escorting the sad drunkard home.’ It didn't even end there. Jumin opened the door to the car for him as well, making a flourish and everything. What an ass.
Brushing past him, Zen slumped down in the luxurious leather seat. It was more comfortable than a car seat had any business being. He could probably have fallen asleep there if he wasn't so weary around this guy. He didn't trust that he wouldn't play some sort of prank on him if he dozed off.
They spent most of the drive in silence aside from Jumin taking a few brief calls seemingly related to work. The man really had to live a busier life than he'd thought if he was expected to be available even at this hour. Zen didn't have much time to reflect upon it however as his stomach began to turn and a wave of nausea washed over him. Without warning, he lurched forward, vomiting back up what little solid food he'd eaten at the party. Just when he thought the night couldn't have had a more miserable end to it. He remained hunched over, the taste of bile sour in his mouth. "Fuck," he heaved, vision swimming as he looked at the mess he'd made of his shoes, of the floor of Jumin's car, "shit, shit, shit."
He felt a soft touch between his shoulder blades and imagined for a moment that Jumin would shove him down and rub his nose in it like the sadist he obviously was beneath the polished exterior, but he merely rubbed his back as if trying to soothe a child. "Don't touch me," Zen wanted to growl, but all that came out was a meek sigh. It was actually making him feel better.
"We're here," Jumin announced unnecessarily when the car parked outside the apartment building.
Zen made himself straighten up in his seat. He grudgingly turned to apologize and perhaps even thank Jumin, but the man in question was already exiting the car. Why was he getting out? He fumbled with the belt buckle, freeing himself and pushing the door open before it could be opened for him. "I don't need your help," he insisted, stumbling slightly as he stepped out, but managing to stay on his feet.
"You're a mess," Jumin replied, moving to shoulder his arm anyway, "you can barely even walk right now. If I don't help you, you're going to end up hurting yourself."
He was probably right, but Zen was still reluctant to let Jumin escort him. For starters, he didn't want him to see how he lived. Despite being partly underground, his apartment wasn't shoddy, but it wouldn't look like much for someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth
---
Although one could argue whether maintaining proper etiquette was required at this point, Jumin politely refrained from commenting on the foul stench of vomit and alcohol still clinging to Zen's breath. The scent of whichever cheap aftershave he was wearing did very little to mask it. If anything, it only made matters worse. Still, he’d decided to make sure he got home safe, and he never volunteered for a task without fully completing it. Unless it was more convenient to pass it on to Assistant Kang, of course.
Zen continued to mumble something about being fine on his own, but he’d stopped trying to pull away and was leaning on him heavily. If he let him go at this point, he was going to fall. That might be amusing, now that he thought about it, but he wasn’t doing this to be amused. Zen was clearly in desperate need of support, and not just in a literal sense. It’d been plain to him for quite some time, but he’d mostly been able to ignore it until tonight. Instead of seeking the attention of every female guest the way he usually did, Zen had been keeping to himself after the ceremony, moping around and drinking non-stop. He would think an actor could control his emotions better, but he supposed this one had never been good at keeping his personal feelings in check despite his talent. Even Saeran, who had been more or less cranky the entire time since his recovery, had looked to be in a better mood. Jumin could swear he’d even seen the boy smile once or twice at his brother’s nonsensical jests.
Reaching the end of the stairs leading down to the basement, he waited for Zen to finish rummaging for his keys and unlocking the door before he helped steady him as he stepped out of his ruined shoes and onto the hardwood floor. The apartment was smaller than Jumin had imagined, and the majority of the furniture looked like it’d seen better days, but what stood out to him the most was the lack of personal items. The place felt cold. Abandoned. Surely he could afford art to put on the walls at the very least? He would happily have donated something from one of Elizabeth The 3rd’s photoshoots to give it a brighter atmosphere, but he knew that would be to cast pearls before swine. Zen would likely claim it was setting off his allergies despite it being impossible to have an allergic reaction to a mere photograph of a cat, no matter how luscious her fur looked in it.
He made for the sofa and had Zen sit down on it before he went to fill a glass of water in the kitchen area. Being able to locate things easily was one of the few advantages to living in such a small place, he supposed. “Drink this,” he said, holding the glass near Zen’s face until he took it, “You’ll be dehydrated in the morning otherwise.”
“Why’re you actin’ all caring?” Zen asked, watching him suspiciously over the rim of the glass, “you don’t even like me.”
That made him give pause. True, they didn’t always get along, but they were friends, weren’t they? He would never say it in front of the other members of the RFA, but he’d always assumed Zen knew he valued his company.
“What makes you think I don’t like you?” he asked, furrowing his brows in contemplation. What could he have done to give him that impression?
“Are you kiddin’? You always make fun of me and belittle me, and send me pictures of cats even tho-” Zen sniffed, grimacing as if holding back a sneeze, “even though you know I can’t stand ‘em.”
“None of that means I don’t care for you. I simply enjoy teasing you.”
“Why?”
Why? He should perhaps try to give an honest answer, but since they were already on the topic of teasing; he responded with the slightest hint of a smile, “Because I think your reactions are cute.”
“Gross.” Zen grumbled, “I don’t wanna hear that from a guy.”
“What difference does it make if a guy says it?” Jumin asked, unable to resist goading him on.
Zen didn’t respond, chugging down the glass of water and setting it down near the edge of the coffee table, “Look, I’m fine now, so there’s no need for you to stay any longer.”
“Very well,” Jumin yielded gracefully, “have a good night, Zen.”
Not expecting a reply, he made for the door. Hopefully Driver Kim would have had time to clean up the worst of the mess in the car by now. He was just heading outside when he heard Zen call for him.
“Jumin,”
He stopped to look over his shoulder at him. “Yes?”
“Thanks. I guess.”
It wasn’t much as far as signs of gratitude went, but it was enough to make the detour worth it. Perhaps he could afford to be nicer to him more often. If Zen was really under the impression he disliked him, he’d have to prove him wrong, if only for the sake of maintaining healthy relations within the RFA.
“Don’t mention it.”