Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I don’t want to be dramatic or anything,” Jeonghan says before tossing himself onto Seungcheol’s desk with the utmost dramatics, “but I might as well die.”

Seungcheol watches blankly as his coffee cup (still half-full) crashes to the floor along with half his paperwork (Jeonghan is lying face down on the other half) and his computer. Some of his pens go flying as well and his stapler gives a pathetic little snapping sound before meeting its demise. There’s a great moment of silence as neither moves nor speaks before Jeonghan’s head pops up.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” Jeonghan asks with great offense.

“I figured you were going to tell me anyway so I don’t see the point in giving you a cue,” Seungcheol replies dryly.

“God,” Jeonghan says. “I don’t even know why I came to you of all people; you have the emotional range of a coconut.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working or something?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeonghan waves Seungcheol’s questions away, and not for the first time, Seungcheol wonders who the boss really is in this relationship. “But anyways, as I was very-not-dramatically saying, Big Bang tickets went on sale ten minutes ago!”

“…and?” Seungcheol asks in a very defeated manner when Jeonghan pauses and gestures with big eyes and flappy-hand motions for a cue to be given.

“And I couldn’t manage to get onto the website because of our crappy Wi-Fi and now I’ve missed the chance of a lifetime to see Taeyang’s magnificent abs in person. How the hell are you gonna make it up to me, Seungcheol? How will I ever bounce back from this terrible loss?”

“Why is it my fault you couldn’t get tickets to the concert? Our Wi-Fi is fine and for the last time, I’m not gonna get it replaced.”

Glaring with all the ferociousness of a person whose dreams of seeing Taeyang’s abs in person has been snatched cruelly from them, Jeonghan jumps off the table and leans down to pick up Seungcheol’s fallen computer. Propping it back up, he then proceeds to steal Seungcheol’s keyboard right from under him and pulls up Google. A little dinosaur sadly proclaiming: There is no Internet connection meets their eyes.

Triumphantly, Jeonghan smirks at Seungcheol’s blank face before sauntering to the door. Right before leaving, however, the blonde haired man turns around and says, “Do something about the Wi-Fi, Cheolie, or I swear to God I will eat Jihoon.”

With that he disappears. Seungcheol tries refreshing Google but the same little dinosaur pops back up.

“Eat Jihoon for all I care,” Seungcheol mutters spitefully under his breath. His little container of paperclips chooses now to tumble off the desk.


-x-


“Jun!” Wonwoo calls from his office. A few seconds pass before the sound of half-running footsteps reach his ears. Junhui’s head pokes in right after.

“How’s it going, Wonwoo?”

“Don’t you ‘how’s it going’ me,” Wonwoo says with exasperation. “Today’s column, explain right now.”

“What’s there to explain?” Junhui blinks with semi-fake innocence as his shuffles into the office. Plopping down on the plush seat across from Wonwoo, he smiles at the other sweetly. “Did I mention how I really like your shirt today, Wonwoo?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Wonwoo replies, despite preening a bit. He quite likes his rather daring dark purple button-down too, but that’s not the point. “This, explain this.” Picking up the paper, Wonwoo clears his throat before reading: “‘For all the Scorpios out there, it’s your lucky day when it comes to romance! Go to that new Singapore restaurant you’ve been telling your friends you want to try, keep wearing those baggy shirts if they make you happy, and maybe finally accept that date from your handsome coworker who has been asking you out for forever.’ What the hell is this, Jun?”

“It’s tomorrow’s horoscope for Scorpios,” Junhui answers obediently even as his smile takes on a slightly abashed edge.

“You can’t use the paper to flirt with Minghao!” Wonwoo cries in exasperation and Jun gives a fake scandalized gasp.

“I am a professional, Wonwoo. I would never dream of using the paper for such selfish reasons!”

When Wonwoo stares at him, unmoved, Junhui’s smile takes on a sweeter edge. “Please Wonwoo? I was told that nice romantic gestures like this might work. I really like Minghao, and I want to woo him properly. Please Wonwoo? Please, for me?”

Wonwoo stares unmoved for a moment even as he feels himself slowly giving way. He curses internally at his soft spot for Junhui and bemoans – once more – at having to oversee his best friend at work. One day, one day he’ll be able to say no to Junhui, but today is not that day.

“How am I gonna explain this to Seungcheol-hyung?” Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his temples and Junhui gives a quiet cheer. Pushing himself off the chair and rushing around the desk, Junhui throws himself on top of Wonwoo who catches him with practiced ease.

“Thank you, Wonwoo! I love you so much, you’re the best!” Junhui rubs his cheek against Wonwoo’s, and tightens his arms around the other’s neck.

“Okay, okay,” Wonwoo says, patting Junhui on his back before gently pushing the other male off. “But seriously, how am I going to convince hyung to publish this?”

Junhui stands there, thinking for a long moment before he smirks mischievously down at Wonwoo.

“Convince Joshua-hyung to do it!”

Wonwoo stares up at him in half-awe and half-fear. It’s always the nice ones, he thinks as he watches Junhui giggle in glee. It’s always the nice ones.


-x-


“Hyung,” Chan says, approaching Minghao’s desk with brisk steps and grim determination painted on his face. “The photocopier isn’t working.”

“Again?” Minghao asks, pushing himself away from his desk. “We really need to get it fixed or replaced.”

“Yeah,” Chan nods in agreement. “It’s really inconvenient, especially when there are important things that need to be photocopied.”

“What do you need photocopied?” Minghao asks. Chan shifts nervously on his feet for a few moments before handing the piece of paper to Minghao. The Chinese man flips the page over and is greeted with a picture of Michael Jackson, the words DANCE SHOWCASE: AUGUST 29th, 7PM AT MANSAE STUDIO printed in bold underneath. Minghao stares at the page for a long moment before looking back up at a flushed Chan.

“This is truly a matter of great importance and takes precedence over literally everything else,” Minghao says, completely serious.

“Yeah, hyung?” Chan asks, and a bright grin slowly takes over his face when Minghao nods.

“Of course.” Minghao gets up and walks towards the photocopying room with quick steps. Chan follows after him with a bounce to his steps. “Let’s get that stupid machine fixed.”




“Minghao? Has anyone seen Minghao? Minghao!” Joshua’s head pokes into the room and he smiles when he sees the Chinese man. “Oh there you are. Minghao, I need you to give our new photographer a tour and to show him the ropes around here.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Minghao grunts before leaping on top of the photocopier like some overgrown housecat. Joshua’s gentle smile disappears and he watches in horror as the Chinese man begins bodily shaking the machine while Chan grins sheepishly from the sidelines. “But I’m kinda busy here, if you couldn’t tell. Ask someone else who actually has time to do it. There are so many slackers around here, I’m sure you can find someone. I believe in you hyung!” Minghao flashes Joshua a sweet smile before ferociously smacking the photocopier like some professional boxer.

Joshua slowly pokes his head back out and pulls the door shut.

“Sorry hyung!” He hears Chan call from inside before a series of loud clattering noises sound from inside. Joshua turns around and smiles self-consciously at their newest employee.

“Sorry about that,” Joshua says. “That was Minghao, by the way. The one straddling the photocopier. And Chan was the one beside him. He’s our intern, he’s very sweet and hardworking. I’m sure you’ll get along well with him.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hansol responds with a boyish grin. “They both seemed really nice. Strange, but nice.”

“Yeah that’s…that’s one way to describe them,” Joshua laughs lightly. “Now let’s see who can give you that tour. Ah!” At that moment, Seungkwan rounded the corner with a stack of paper in his hands, and Joshua beams. “Seungkwan!”

Stopping, Seungkwan turns to Joshua with an inquisitive look. “Yeah, hyung?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I just handed in my article for tomorrow, so yep! Do you need something?”

“Perfect. Seungkwan, you’re a lifesaver,” Joshua says. “Can you please give our new photographer a tour around the building? I would do it myself but I haven’t finished answering the advice column yet.”

“Of course, hyung!” Seungkwan agrees before turning around to face Hansol. His smile drops immediately, and the shock that takes its place is reflected perfectly on Hansol’s face.

“You,” Seungkwan practically snarls, and Hansol throws his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “How dare you show your face again? And on my territory too!”

“Ah,” Joshua’s head whips between the two of them frantically. “Do you…do you know each other?”

“This smarmy looking asshole,” Seungkwan hisses, “is my ex-boyfriend and the reason I cry everytime Rolling in the Deep comes on.”

“Oh my,” Joshua simply says.

“I can’t believe this, oh my god this isn’t happening,” Seungkwan says before his eyes narrow. “You…you jackass! How dare you look handsomer than before? Where is the justice? Where is the righteousness? I hate you, don’t ever come near me ever again, jackass!”

With that, Seungkwan runs off, stray papers from his stack fluttering behind him. Joshua and Hansol watch him go, the former with a look of shock on his face while an indecipherable one is painted on the latter’s.

“Well,” Joshua basically squeaks out after a moment. “Maybe I should just give you the tour, instead.”


-x-


“I’m telling you, I can bring in more readers than you can!” Soonyoung proclaims passionately while Seokmin watches him with affectionate eyes. “I’m a fantastic writer and I always manage to sneak in these great puns; people gobble that shit up! You stand no chance, Seokmin, just give up now.”

“Why? Are you afraid you’ll lose, hyung?” Seokmin teases and Soonyoung throws out a playful punch. Seokmin catches his fist before it can make impact with his shoulder, however, and the two end up giggling while swinging their intertwined hands back and forth.

“No way,” Soonyoung half-laughs, and his eyes curve up happily. “I’m Kwon Soonyoung! I’m not afraid of anything, especially not my snot-nosed dongsaeng.”

“How dare you,” Seokmin gasps in mock-outrage. “My nose is super clean, the cleanest nose possible. I just wiped it in the bathroom. See?” With that, he presses his face close to Soonyoung who continues giggling.

“Yes, yes, you have the cleanest nose possible,” Soonyoung concedes before affectionately bopping Seokmin on said nose. “My apologies, Your Nosiness.”  

“Hmph,” Seokmin pulls back. “I’ll accept your apology only if you accept the terms of the bet.”

“You know what? Fine,” Soonyoung agrees. “I’ll accept, but only because I know I’ll win.”

“That’s the spirit! It’ll make kicking your ass that much sweeter.” Seokmin cheers and he gathers Soonyoung into a hug which the other gladly reciprocates. The two of them are in the middle of jumping up and down when the door opens and Joshua and a stranger appears.

“And this is our breakroom,” Joshua says before gesturing to the two frozen men entangled together in the middle. “And that’s Soonyoung and Seokmin. They both write for the entertainment section of the paper. Guys, this is Hansol, he’s our new photographer.”

“Hey,” Hansol says, barely blinking at the odd sight and the two writers offer semi-awkward waves without letting go of each other. “It’s nice to meet you guys. I hope you’ll take good care of me.”

“Anyways,” Joshua cuts in. “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re just celebrating the commencement of a new bet,” Soonyoung replies.

“Oh no,” Joshua says with a cluck of his tongue despite the fond look in his eyes. “And what are you guys betting this time?”

“On who can get more clicks on their online articles this month,” Seokmin answers. “Loser has to take the winner out on a fancy date and pay for everything.”

“Are you guys dating?” Hansol asks, and the two in question burst out into giddy laughter.

“No, we’re just friends,” Soonyoung says with great mirth. Seokmin nods in agreement before tenderly nuzzling his face against the top of Soonyoung’s head.

“I see,” Hansol responds.

“We’ll leave you to it!” Joshua smiles and waves before closing the door behind them.

Soonyoung and Seokmin continue swaying peacefully in the middle of the breakroom.

-x-


It’s nearing the end of the day when Jihoon bursts into Seungcheol’s office with fury in his eyes and frustration rolling off his body in waves. There looks like there’s honest-to-God tears in his eyes, and Seungcheol jumps up from his chair and runs towards Jihoon immediately.

“What happened? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Who do I need to crush between my thighs?”

“Okay, one: never say ‘crush between my thighs’ ever again if you value my employment. And two: this,” Jihoon lifts up their office’s modem, which looks as though it’s been crushed to oblivion by a sledgehammer. “I can’t work without the internet. I don’t even know what people did before the internet. They probably just stared at each other from sunrise to sunset, and I can’t live like a primeval creature. Fix this. Fix. This. Hyung.”

Seungcheol stares at the destroyed modem and at the angry lines of Jihoon’s face before storming out of his office. Jihoon follows after while cradling the modem against his chest like a precious babe.

“JEONGHAN,” Seungcheol roars, and the entire office seems to freeze. The man in question rises from his desk with absolutely no fear on his face but a lot of confusion, and Seungcheol feels a vein throb violently at his temple.

“Yes, Cheolie?” Jeonghan asks once he’s standing in front of the other. Seungcheol’s eye twitches, and he sticks out his arm. Jihoon places the crushed modem there before Seungcheol presents Jeonghan with the victim.

“Care to explain this?”

“…you destroyed the modem like I asked you to? And now we can get a new one?”

“You destroyed the modem. And after I specifically asked you not to!”

“I didn’t do this!” Jeonghan exclaims. When Seungcheol’s face remains stormy, Jeonghan continues. “I swear this wasn’t me. I usually take great pride in my work but this time I’m not the one you should be pointing fingers at. Honest!”

“Are you honestly expecting me to believe that?” Seungcheol cries in disbelief. “You’ve been complaining about the Wi-Fi for months now; you burst into my office just today to cry about it! And now the modem conveniently breaks? Come on Jeonghan, I expected better from you. At least lie better.”

“Okay first of all, I didn’t cry when I went to your office. I was bitching moderately. And second, I really didn’t do this. I was on my best behaviour today; the office incident withstanding.”

“Just admit you did this, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol sighs.

“Seungcheol, I honestly didn’t—”

“Um, actually,” a voice suddenly sounds and everyone’s heads swivel to face the newcomer. Mingyu is standing there, looking sheepish and ashamed, and his eyes flicker nervously between the two standing off and the floor. “I broke it. I’m so sorry hyung! I tripped and landed on it. I was going to tell you immediately but then Minghao called me to the photocopying room because he needed help. I’m so sorry; I’ll pay for the new modem!”

Jeonghan turns to Seungcheol with pursed lips and unimpressed eyes as Mingyu is repeatedly bowing. Jihoon snorts behind Seungcheol and – not for the first time – Seungcheol debates quitting his job to become a shepard in Iceland.

“Hyung…” Minghao’s voice suddenly sounds, and everyone’s eyes immediately turn towards the Chinese man. He shies a bit away from the attention before straightening back up and speaking as confidently as possible. “This might be a good time to tell you that we need a new photocopying machine…”

“…and that the photocopying room is covered in ink…” Chan adds meekly from his desk.

“That too,” Minghao agrees. Seungcheol breathes in deeply for four seconds before releasing it in seven.

“How?” Is all he asks, and Minghao shares a look of apprehension with Chan before answering.

“I was trying to fix the photocopier but accidently dislodged a cartridge or something. With my foot. Because I was on top of the photocopier. When I was trying to fix it. Yeah.”

The long, drawn-out moment of silence in broken by Seungkwan who suddenly chimes in with a: “If Seungcheol-hyung is taking complaints right now, can I request that we get a new photographer? I’m not sure I can stomach the one we have right now.”

“Hansol is staying, Seungkwan, end of,” Seungcheol sighs.

“Yeah,” Joshua pipes up. “I didn’t go through all that trouble of a tour just for Seungcheol to fire him.”

“Thanks guys,” Hansol says, and Seungkwan tosses a pen at his head. Hansol catches it with his mouth before realizing that it’s a pen and not a grape and spitting it back out.

“Also,” Junhui says and he sidles up to Seungcheol’s side with twenty-percent grace and eighty-percent limbs, “I finished the horoscopes for tomorrow; can I please get your stamp of approval?”

“Sure,” Seungcheol sighs.

“Fantastic,” Junhui says before sending a smirk in Wonwoo’s direction. The other man rolls his eyes before ducking back into his office.

“So,” Seungcheol says after a long moment. “Is that all?”

“It’s actually past our shift now,” Soonyoung says. “Can we go?”

“Yes, yes!” Seungcheol bemoans before entering his office. “Get out of here please! I have to stay behind and call for a new modem and photocopier. I don’t need any help, but thanks for offering guys!”

“No problem, hyung!” Seokmin says with a bright smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol-hyung,” Mingyu whispers as he’s walking past Seungcheol’s door. “So sorry.”

“Bye bye, hyung,” Minghao simply says.

“I’m leaving the horoscopes here,” Junhui drops the pages on Seungcheol’s desk. “Remember, they need your approval. Don’t stay too late, hyung! Wait for me, Minghao!” And Junhui scampers away.

“Do you need any help?” Joshua, bless his soul, enters the room with concerned eyes.

Seungcheol rubs at his throbbing temples, before opening his mouth to reply. Before he can say anything, however, Jeonghan sticks his head in with narrowed eyes and a scowl set on his lips.

“You’re my bitch forever, Cheolie. My bitch.”

Seungcheol allows his head to drop onto his desk with a dull thud.

“Can you check out how much it costs for a one-way flight to Iceland, please, Joshua?”

“No, Seungcheol. You’re not going to Iceland to become a shepard.”

“Think of the killer beard I’ll be able to grow out though.”

“No, sorry.”

“You think going to Iceland’s gonna stop me from cashing in forever? Think again, Cheolie. You’re my bitch until the day you die.”

Seungcheol groans in agony.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, dear coworker of mine!” Junhui says happily as he makes his way to Minghao’s desk. “I got you an iced mocha and a cinnamon bun. It’s fresh out of the oven too, so it’s a bit hot. Please be careful!”

“Thanks, Junhui-hyung,” Minghao says. He takes the proffered gifts with a small but genuine smile, and Junhui’s own grin widens.

“So how are you on this fine and beautiful morning, HaoHao?” Junhui asks, and Minghao rolls his eyes as he rips open the bag holding his treat.

“My name’s Minghao,” the younger starts while discretely wiping some of the frosting sugar clinging to his fingers onto his pants. “I know you’re old, hyung. But you’re not old enough to be going senile yet. How many times am I gonna have to tell you my name before you remember, huh?”

“As many times as it takes for you to agree to give me a chance,” is Junhui’s earnestly immediate answer. Minghao’s own smile falters a bit, and he drops his gaze from the elder’s hopeful eyes to the perspiration dripping from his coffee cup. “So what do you say? Is today my lucky day?”

Minghao sighs softly before turning back to Junhui with a strained smile. “Sorry, hyung.”

The disappointment that flashes in Junhui’s eyes almost makes Minghao take back his words and agree to a date, but the older Chinese man is quick to recover, and his smile is kind and gentle as he teases: “Not even the horoscopes can change your mind, huh?"

“I don’t know how you got Seungcheol-hyung to agree to publish that,” Minghao says while shaking his head in amused disbelief, “but I’ve never been a superstitious person, hyung. I’m not gonna let a bunch of stars and constellations dictate my life.”

Junhui chuckles. “I don’t think anything can restrain you, Minghao, much less a bunch of stars and constellations.” The sincerity in his tone of voice causes Minghao to blush, and the younger quickly takes a sip from his iced mocha. Its cool sweetness is a bit too reminiscent of Junhui himself though, and Minghao hopes he’s not as red as he’s feeling.

“I should get to work,” Junhui slowly backs up and Minghao blinks up at him. “Those horoscopes aren’t going to write themselves. I’ll talk to you later, HaoHao.”

“Hyung!” Minghao calls once Junhui is a suitable distance away. The other turns around with an inquisitive look on his handsome features, and Minghao knows he’s flushing when he says, “Thank you for the iced mocha and the bun.”

The happy smile, cute little wave, and “anything for you, HaoHao!” that Junhui throws out is almost worth Seokmin’s snickering.

Almost. Minghao flashes an aggressive middle finger at the other the moment Junhui turns away. Seokmin only snickers louder.


-x-


Mingyu almost crashes into Wonwoo on his way to the breakroom.

“Whoa!” He exclaims and Wonwoo fumbles with his cup of coffee. Instinctively, Mingyu reaches out with both hands to steady Wonwoo’s swaying frame, and it’s only once the potential danger of falling passes that Mingyu removes his hands from Wonwoo’s elbows.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Mingyu grins self-deprecatingly, and Wonwoo lets out a soft huff of amused laughter while glancing up at Mingyu through his lashes.

“No, it was entirely my fault,” Wonwoo says, and the two share an awkward smile before attempting to get around each other. They both end up sliding to Mingyu’s right, chuckling, then sliding to his left, and his right one more time, before Mingyu simply grabs Wonwoo’s elbows again and stay him.

“Here, just let me…” He trails off before bodily shifting Wonwoo to his right and sidling past him. They were so close that Mingyu can see the way the top tufts of Wonwoo’s hair shifts a bit from Mingyu’s vaguely ragged breathing, and it’s only once the taller man is safely in the breakroom with Wonwoo still hovering in the doorway that he can properly breathe again.

“I’m so sorry Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu repeats again before bowing quickly.

Wonwoo shakes his head rapidly before bowing in turn. “No, no, please. It was all my fault. Don’t…don’t worry about it, Mingyu-ah.”

“Alright,” Mingyu replies before bowing one more time. “I hope you won’t worry about it either, hyung.”

“I’m not worrying at all,” Wonwoo bows again. “So don’t worry about me worrying.”

“I’m glad we’re both not worrying.”

“Yes, we’re…we’re both good.”

“Absolutely fantastic.”

“I should get back to work,” Wonwoo says after the two of them stand there smiling dopily at each other for a good few moments.

“Of course hyung!” Mingyu exclaims, suddenly feeling embarrassed at having held Wonwoo back from his no-doubt important job. “Please don’t let me distract you.”

“You’re not distracting at all,” Wonwoo says, self-consciously adjusting his glasses before seeming to realize what he had said and flushing a soft pink. “That isn’t to say that you’re not not distracting. You’re the perfect amount of distracting without being completely detrimental to my work, is what I meant. You’re just…just great. Perfectly distracting without being too distracting or too not distracting.”

“Ah…thank you, hyung,” Mingyu murmurs, and he knows he probably resembles a lanky tomato right now. “You’re perfectly distracting too. In the best way possible, of course.”

Wonwoo looks as though he’s about to drop his coffee cup, so he quickly bows one more time before briskly walking away with an “I’ll see you around, Mingyu-ah” tossed over his shoulder.

When Mingyu breathes out, it’s soft and shuddery, and he leans against the wall, suddenly feeling weak-kneed and lightheaded.

“What the hell was that?” Seungkwan suddenly asks from where he’s quietly sitting at the lunchroom table watching the entire debacle unfold, and Mingyu screams.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu gasps, and he meets Seungkwan’s unamused gaze with a fearful one. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes and gestures for Mingyu to sit next to him. The taller man does so, and Seungkwan scoots closer to the other. “Now, let me rephrase my question so you can better understand it: what the fuck was that, hyung? That was so incredibly awkward to watch. I could literally feel my armpit hair curling up in secondhand-embarrassment.”

“It’s nothing,” Mingyu murmurs, and he allows his head to drop onto his folded arms. “Wonwoo-hyung and I have always been awkward around each other. This is nothing new.”

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan clicks his tongue. “Have you guys slept together before? Is that why you can’t even hold a conversation with the poor guy without bowing like a thousand times and complimenting each other on how not not distracting the other is?”

“I wish it were that simple,” Mingyu mutters. Seungkwan jabs him in his side and Mingyu winces, lifting his head to shoot the younger a glare. “Why’d you do that?”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Seungkwan steamrolls right over Mingyu’s offended question. “You’re in love with him, and every time you have to talk to him all you can think about is how you want to kiss him and hug him and then you get all awkward because of it. Am I right or am I right?”

“You’re wrong and you’re wrong,” Mingyu replies, even as he feels his heart pounding ridiculously quickly in his chest. “I’m not in love with Wonwoo-hyung and we’ve never slept together. We’re just…awkward with each other. But what can you do? You can’t get along with everyone in the world, and I’m just glad we’re at least civil to each other.”

Seungkwan glares at Mingyu before abruptly standing up and taking his half-eaten yogurt with him. “You’re a terrible liar, Mingyu-hyung. There’s no shame in wanting to be with Wonwoo-hyung. If I can’t be lucky in love at least you should be. Don’t let your life be an Adele song; be better than me, hyung. Fight for your stupid lovesick dreams, god.”

“I’m not in love with Wonwoo-hyung!” Mingyu cries after Seungkwan’s retreating back. “I’m not!” He slumps back down, suddenly feeling way too exhausted for it to only be 10:10 in the morning.

“You’re in love with Wonwoo?” Soonyoung suddenly asks from where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter. Mingyu jumps in his chair and violently bangs his knee against the table.

“Holy shit!” Mingyu half-sobs. “Where are you people coming from?”


-x-


“Okay, I have to ask,” Hansol says while pulling up a chair next to the reception desk where Chan is seated and plopping down next to the young intern, “but how many people are dating each other here?”

“Well,” Chan begins as he dramatically swivels his chair around to face Hansol like some Bond-esque villain. “It really depends on who you ask.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone claims that they’re just ‘good friends’,” Chan finger quotes the sarcastically drawled-out words before continuing, “but – for example – if you ask everyone else, Soonyoung-hyung and Seokmin-hyung are definitely in love and subconsciously planning their wedding, honeymoon, and the six kids they’re probably gonna have. They probably already have their couples’ retirement plan mapped out together too.”

“They were hugging and dancing with each other when I first saw them in the breakroom,” Hansol murmurs, and Chan snorts.

“Then you caught them on a tame day,” the younger smirks before leaning forward as if to divulge a dirty secret. Hansol follows suit when Chan crooks his finger for him to do the same, and it’s only when their faces are a mere few inches apart that Chan whispers: “Once, Mingyu-hyung walked in on Seokmin-hyung attempting to remove a wedding garter from Soonyoung-hyung’s thigh. Poor Mingyu-hyung, all he wanted was a cup of coffee and instead he got that.”

Hansol blinks in shock at Chan – who only nods back sagely and completely seriously – before stating: “All I have to ask…is why.”

Chan shrugs and begins playing with a ball of elastics on his desk. “Apparently Seokmin-hyung was going to attend a cousin’s wedding later that week, and for some reason thought he’d be the one to have to remove the bride’s garter. He claimed it was all for practice, but if you ask anyone else, it was just an excuse to get up close and personal with Soonyoung-hyung’s thighs.”

“Was…Soonyoung-ssi wearing a dress?”

“A nice white skirt, with little shiny beads stitched in and everything. There were cute matching heels as well.”

“Oh my god,” Hansol breathes out, and Chan reaches out to consolingly pat the photographer on his arm.

“I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you’ve just joined a mess of a workplace,” Chan says. “It’s really fun and everything, and everyone’s really nice, but it’s a circus.” Leaning back, he smiles deviously at Hansol. “However, if you’re into gossip, you’ve come to the right person. Everyone always overlooks me and thinks they can say whatever they want in front of me, but I hear and see everything. I guess it’s good to cultivate a more innocent image because I basically know everything and no one ever suspects me.”

“Chan-ssi,” Hansol says admiringly. “I really hope we become good friends.”

“Just call me Chan, hyung,” Chan smiles sweetly at the other. “I’m sure we’ll get along great!”




Later, when Jihoon is shuffling tiredly past the reception desk, Hansol can’t help but snort loudly. Turning around, Jihoon meets the innocent stare of their intern and the shifty one of their new photographer.

“Can I…help you with something?” The editor asks, and Chan beams back.

“It’s nothing, hyung!” He says happily. “I was just teaching Hansol-hyung the shortcuts on our editing program. I messed up, though, and accidentally deleted one of the photos so Hansol-hyung is just laughing at me, since he’s a jerk who doesn’t appreciate my help.” Hansol’s head drops into his arms and his shoulders begin shaking with mirth.

“Ah,” Jihoon acknowledges with a small smile. “Keep up the good work, Chan.”

“I will, hyung!” Chan chirps back, and the two younger men watch the editor shuffle away.

“See?” Chan says once Jihoon is out of ear-reach. “With this innocent façade, I can get away with anything.”


-x-


“Wonwoo? Hello, Wonwoo?” Junhui’s head pokes beneath the desk, and he shoots the curled up man a fondly exasperated look. “What are you doing down there?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo’s voice is muffled due to his face being pressed against his knees. Junhui crouches down next to the desk, and reaches a hand in to gently dislodge the other’s glasses which are perched on the top of his head before softly stroking the light brown hair. “Isn’t it tight and stuffy down there? Why don’t you come out, yeah?”

“No thanks,” Wonwoo replies, and Junhui chuckles softly before poking at the other’s feet with a slim finger.

“Alright, then budge over. I’m coming in.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” Wonwoo mutters, even as he curls up tighter in order to make more room for the other. Junhui crawls into the cramped space, and groans when his head knocks painfully against the top of the desk.

“I want to work too, you know,” Junhui grumbles as he makes himself comfortable. His pointy elbows prod insistently against Wonwoo’s calves, and the other hisses every time their limbs make contact. “But – hey, ow, stop that! – geez, but my superior somehow decided it’d be a smart idea to hide under his desk and, as his loyal underling, it’s my duty to make sure he’s alright. So here I am, looking like a slacker. All because my boss probably has some sort of fetish.”

“I don’t know what you’re into, but I don’t think there’s any kind of fetish that involves people cramped under a desk.”

“Oh come on, you walnut,” Junhui smirks. “You know…hiding under a desk…a secret blowjob during work maybe?”

Wonwoo begins flapping his hands against Junhui’s face while basically screeching: “Shut up! I’m not talking about this with you! Have you no shame?” Junhui just giggles and catches Wonwoo’s hands with his own. Rubbing at his palms, Junhui begins humming a cheerful tune while Wonwoo calms down.

“You’re such a pervert,” Wonwoo quietly complains, though he makes no move to snatch his hands away from Junhui’s caring ministrations.

“Yeah, yeah,” Junhui replies. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. Can’t a man just take a rest under his own desk without people badgering him about it?”

Rolling his eyes, Junhui slaps Wonwoo’s knee playfully. “Sure, but this isn’t really your style is it?” When Wonwoo makes no move to reply, Junhui’s smile turns softer and more encouraging. “You know you can tell me anything, right? You don’t have to if you really don’t want to, but I’m here for you, okay?”

They sit in semi-comfortable silence (two grown men really weren’t meant to squeeze under one desk, though) for a few minutes with Junhui gently rubbing Wonwoo’s hands and knees before the younger quietly whispers: “It’s Mingyu.”

Junhui just hums and says, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything I can do about it?”

Wonwoo sits there in quiet contemplation, before decisively requesting: “Can you keep him away from me?”

There’s a pause as Junhui stares at his friend with worried eyes. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” He asks, though he tries his best to keep any concern or judgement out of his voice.

Breathing in deeply, Wonwoo closes his eyes. He thinks of Mingyu’s soft eyes, and warm hands, his bright smile, and his loud laugh. He breathes out. “It’s what I need.”

“Okay,” Junhui slowly agrees, though there’s still clear tension twisting the corners of his mouth. “I’ll keep him away from you.”

“Do you promise?”

“I will throw my body to the bears if it means keeping Mingyu away from you.”

“I don’t know where the bears came from or what they have to do with anything, but thanks.”

Junhui smiles softly and leans forward to draw Wonwoo into a gentle hug. “You’re my best friend, you know?”

“I know,” Wonwoo replies as he does his best to curl his arms around the other’s waist (the space really is limited though).

“I’d fight a bear for you if it would make you happy.”

“Once again, I don’t know where the bear is coming from and I don’t think they deserve this kind of abuse, but thank you Jun-ah.” Wonwoo’s tiny smile twists into a mischievous smirk as he teasingly adds: “I’d only fight a housecat for you, though.”

“I know you’re much weaker than me, so I forgive you, Wonwoo,” Junhui coos cutely and the other pinches his side in vicious retaliation. The Chinese man yelps and bumps his head once more against the top of the desk.

“Never mind,” Wonwoo mutters. “I wouldn’t even fight a cactus for you.”

“That’s right! Protect your little delicate fingers from the prickles – gah!”


-x-


“Hyung,” Chan pokes his head into Seungcheol’s office after briskly knocking on the door three times. “There’s a package out front for you.”

“A package?” Seungcheol asks with furrowed brows as he pushes away from his desk. “It’s not the photocopier is it? They told me it wasn’t going to arrive for a week, at least.”

“I don’t know,” Chan shrugs as he leads the older man out of the office and to the front reception. “But it’s huge and has your name scrawled at the top.”

“Who brought it in?”

“It just appeared while I was busy sending out a few faxes. There wasn’t a mailman or anything.”

“This isn’t suspicious at all,” Seungcheol mutters as he approaches the huge cardboard box that’s standing proudly in front of Chan’s desk. It’s even taller than Seungcheol himself, and he approaches the package with great trepidation.

“Here, hyung,” Chan says, while passing a large letter opener to Seungcheol. The older man sighs and takes the proffered item before carefully cutting through the tape holding the box together. After a few swift flicks of the wrist, the package gives way and opens up.

“Whoa!” Chan exclaims, and Seungcheol simply gapes in shock.

“Is that a cake?” Soonyoung cries excitedly from his desk and he scampers delightedly next to the intern in order to get a better look at the monstrosity that’s taking up their front reception. Soonyoung’s enthusiastic shout rouses the interest of everyone else, and soon Chan’s desk is crowded with curious onlookers.

Together, the entire office gawks at the ten-layered, creamy-looking chocolate mammoth of a cake. Little pink and blue fondant flowers sporadically dot the treat, and Seungcheol blankly wonders how long it must have taken for someone to bake this thing.

“Can I eat it, hyung?” Soonyoung suddenly asks.

“We don’t even know where it—” However, before Seungcheol can finish his sentence, the cake explodes in a flurry of brown cream. Everyone begins screaming in horror while grabbing onto the closest person to them, and their shrieks only increase in volume and terror when a muscular, oily man wearing a neon green speedo and a tight, grey tee-shirt crawls out of what’s left of the cake.  

The shiny stranger presses a button on the boom box propped over his shoulder before putting it down, and music begins pounding through the room.

“What the hell?” Jihoon screeches in fear while semi-crouching behind Chan’s desk.

“Hey!” Hansol cries out happily over the cacophony of noises that’s taken hold of the floor. “This is Hot Line Bling!”

The man begins gyrating his hips sensually to the beat of Drake, and before everyone can get themselves under control, the stranger suddenly rips his tee-shirt in half, starting another round of terrified yelling. The words YOU’RE MY BITCH, CHEOLIE is written in glittery, golden marker on the man’s shiny chest, and Seungcheol feels his blood pressure skyrocket.

“Jeonghan!” Seungcheol shrieks, and the man in question saunters over from where he had been leaning against the wall. Shooting his boss a flirtatious smirk, Jeonghan doesn’t even attempt to look innocent.

“Yes, Cheolie?”

“Why?!”

“Because you’re my bitch,” Jeonghan says before adding as an afterthought: “Also I needed to find a way to spend the money I had saved up for the Big Bang concert. A stripper seemed worth it, especially for you, Cheolie,” Jeonghan sing-songs.

“Are you Cheolie?” The oily stripper suddenly asks in a voice that’s even deeper than Wonwoo’s. 

“This is him,” Jeonghan says with a bright smile while Seungcheol shakes his head furiously. The stripper begins backing up until his ass is pressed tight against Seungcheol’s thigh.

“HOLY SHIT,” Seungcheol screams as the man begins grinding against him while everyone (minus Jeonghan, who’s wearing a satisfied smirk on his face, and Hansol who’s too busy bopping to the sweet, sweet melody of Drake to notice anything else) stares in a horrified stupor.

“I’m quitting!” Jihoon cries as he runs back into his office. “This is my two weeks’ notice!”  

“…can I still eat the cake?” Soonyoung pipes up, and Joshua is quick to stop him from gathering a handful of cream from off the floor.

“Since an oily man wearing a speedo just burst out from it,” Joshua says in disapproval, “it’s probably in your best interest not to.”

“JEONGHAN, I’M GONNA KILL YOU,” Seungcheol bellows, and Jeonghan just blows a kiss to the red-faced man.

The stripper continues grinding away while Hot Line Bling continues to play.

Chapter Text

“Okay,” Seungcheol begins from where he’s standing at the front of their little conference room. “I called you guys here today because we’re experiencing a minor budget cut.”

“Ha!” Seungkwan cries triumphantly from where he’s sitting near the back. “Goodbye, jackass!”

Hansol turns around to throw the giddy man an incredulous stare, and Seungcheol sighs before saying, “No one’s getting fired, Seungkwan. It’s a small budget cut. Not a human-sized one.”

“He’s not worth a lot anyways,” Seungkwan mutters while sinking back into his seat. “Just get rid of him.”

“For the last time, no one’s getting fired,” Seungcheol says. “We’re just going to have to get rid of a few super tiny, minor things you guys probably won’t even notice. Like some of our newer editing software, maybe one or two of the company cars…possibly the coffee machine…” he quietly whispers the last part.

“Wait, what? The coffee machine? Are you serious?” Jihoon calls out with frustration in his voice amidst the unhappy titters that begin to fill the room. “We still don’t have Wi-Fi and now we won’t have coffee either? Why am I still here? I gave my two weeks’ notice three days ago. Is it still applicable?”

“No, it’s not applicable because you didn’t give me a written notice, Jihoon. And you guys drink a lot of coffee,” Seungcheol defends himself, despite his deep eye-bags proclaiming their need for caffeine as well. “It’s ridiculous how much money I spend from our monthly budget on coffee beans!”

“I think I speak for everyone here,” Seungkwan stands on his chair and says with great confidence, “when I say that we’d literally all rather have coffee than Hansol.”

“Hey!” Hansol turns around and shoots Seungkwan a wounded glare, to which the blond journalist simply glares back ten times as ferociously.

“Why don’t you guys just buy your own coffee?” Minghao pipes up from where he’s sitting near the front, and he takes a long sip of his caramel macchiato as if to mock everyone else in the room.

“Well if Jun was willing to buy all of us coffee whenever we wanted it, then we wouldn’t be freaking out about this either,” Jihoon snarkily responds, and Minghao attempts to hide his flushed cheeks behind the rim of his coffee cup. Junhui simply smiles happily from where he’s seated next to the younger Chinese man.

“Can’t we just limit our coffee intake instead of getting rid of the coffee machine entirely?” Wonwoo asks from where he’s leaning against the wall. While his tone of voice is calm and even, the look in his eyes resembles that of a man who has seen his own bloody, pathetic demise.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow together in thought, and he flips through the papers in front of him detailing their budget and spendings for a moment before hesitantly saying: “That could work…but that means everyone is limited to one cup of coffee a day.”

“That’s better than no coffee!” Mingyu smiles with relief, and Jihoon’s head meets the table with a dull thud.

“I’m going to offer this option one more time,” Seungkwan calls out hopefully. “But I say we get rid of Hansol and just drink as much coffee as we want.”

“Really?” Hansol mutters at the same time Seungcheol drawls out, “No can do, Seungkwannie. Now sit your ass back down before you fall off your chair. We don’t have enough money in our budget to call you an ambulance if you break your neck.”

“I don’t drink coffee and neither does Chan,” Joshua chimes in helpfully, and the young intern nods his head is agreement. “So that means two of you guys can have an extra cup a day?”

“See why would you bring that up?” Seungcheol asks exasperatedly as Soonyoung and Seokmin cry out: “Rock, paper, scissors, go!” with great passion and vigour. “Now everyone’s gonna be battling each other to the death in order to obtain an extra cup of coffee. To keep the peace, I think I should just have both Joshua’s and Chan’s share, since I’m the boss and all.”

“I will literally wring your neck, Seungcheol-hyung, don’t think I won’t,” Jihoon mutters darkly, lifting his head enough so that two glittering, angry eyes can be seen.

“Okay, nevermind,” Seungcheol says. “How about we draw up a weekly chart, and we’ll all do rotations so that someone new can get an extra cup every day?” 

“That works,” Mingyu agrees amiably. “And it’ll be fair too.”

“I want to quit so bad,” Jihoon moans.

Jeonghan chooses now to enter with a Starbucks cup in his hand. “Sorry I’m late, I was at Starbucks. What did I miss?”


-x-


“Ah, look at that,” Seokmin sighs, and Soonyoung looks up from where he had been very determinedly finishing up his article on the fantastical reunion between a young girl and her once-lost stuffed bear named Momo (it’s an amazing read involving Twitter and trains and pure luck and a lot of happiness and tears and will most definitely get more clicks than Seokmin’s good-but-not-as-good-as-Soonyoung’s article on the rising reality of catfishing) to see Junhui happily bouncing towards Minghao’s desk with a warm cup of coffee held in his hands.

The two friends watch as the older Chinese man hands his companion the cup with a sweet and hopeful smile, and Minghao takes the gift while shooting the other a small but grateful grin. The enticingly strong aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and spicy cinnamon waft towards Seokmin and Soonyoung, and the two sigh longingly as they watch Minghao take a nice, long sip from his cup.

“Man, if Jun-hyung liked us, we’d be getting all the coffee we wanted whenever we wanted it,” Seokmin says wistfully even as he watches the two writers speaking quietly to each other with fond eyes. Soonyoung hums in absentminded agreement before freezing. As his brain is puffing along rapidly, he reaches out and clutches Seokmin’s arm with both hands, and the other stares at him with a bit of confusion.

“Hyung?”

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung breathes out. “If Jun liked one of us, then we’d have all the coffee we want.”

“…yes?”

“We have to seduce Jun,” Soonyoung says, and Seokmin shoots him a look that seems to border between offended and incredulous.

“We can’t seduce Jun-hyung,” Seokmin whispers back. His hand flaps out to awkwardly gesture towards where Minghao’s desk is situated, and he continues: “He and Minghao have something going on. We can’t ruin that!”

Soonyoung’s grip on Seokmin’s arm tightens just a tiny bit, and he gnaws at his lip thoughtfully before slowly amending his words. “Okay, we don’t have to seduce seduce him, but we can butter him up a little bit to get him to buy us coffee.”

Seokmin frowns thoughtfully, but the furrow between his brows slowly retracts and he hums appreciatively. “I guess it’s alright as long as we don’t get in the way of their blossoming love.”

“We definitely won’t,” Soonyoung declares confidently, and a smile begins curling along his lips. “Jun is way too dedicated to Minghao to look at anyone else. But I’m sure if we compliment him enough while dropping hints at just how coffee-deprived we are, he’ll be sure get us what we crave. I mean, he’d just be acting like a good hyung to his adorable dongsaengs.”

Seokmin snorts, and his eyes scrunch up in mirth. “You’re literally five days younger than him, hyung.”

“But I have the adorableness of a young dongsaeng,” Soonyoung bats his eyelashes playfully, and Seokmin breaks out into happy little guffaws. “I deserve to be doted on too, just based on how cute I am.”

“Yes, yes,” Seokmin agrees easily, and his hands come up to softly squish Soonyoung’s cheeks between his two palms. “No one is cuter than hyung. Hyung is the cutest out of everyone.”

“Oh, Seokmin!” Soonyoung cries passionately. “You know just what to say to get my heart beating fast!”

“Oh, Soonyoung-hyung! You make it so easy to spew out such cheesy lines!” Seokmin cries back with just as much emotion, and the two of them throw their arms around each other in a magnificent display of intense love.

“I’m so glad I have you by my side,” Soonyoung says, “I can’t imagine seducing Jun with anyone else.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of seducing Jun-hyung without you by my side, Soonyoung-hyung,” Seokmin replies, and they begin rocking back and forth in their chairs to the complete befuddlement of the rest of their coworkers.

“Oh, Seokmin!”

“Oh, Soonyoung-hyung!”

“Oh, Seokmin!”

“Oh, Soonyoung—”

“Guys,” Jeonghan’s exasperated voice cuts in between their declarations of passion. “While this is truly touching and I’m actually weeping tears of happiness from this display right now, can we please keep the PDA down to a minimum? We have a breakroom for a reason; go slobber all over each other in there if you must.”

Soonyoung and Seokmin shoot each other a furtive glance before getting up from their chairs – their arms still locked tight around each other – and shuffling awkwardly to the breakroom.


-x-


“Seungkwan, I need to talk to you,” Hansol says seriously, standing in the doorway of the photocopying room with his hands on either side of the frame to prevent any kind of escape, and the man in question immediately begins loudly humming the Moulin Rouge! soundtrack with his back still turned to the other.

“Come on, Seungkwan, please,” Hansol pleads, and Seungkwan’s humming transforms into a full blown-karaoke session. “Seungkwan…”

The blonde journalist begins bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet while bellowing out the Elephant Love Medley (which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best song to pick given the situation), and he continues keeping his back to the other even as it becomes painfully obvious that he is very much finished using their (spanking-new) photocopier.

“Love makes us act like we are fools,” Seungkwan’s strong voice echoes throughout the room, and he closes his eyes as he begins swaying to the beat thrumming beneath his skin. Hansol’s calls of his name goes forcefully unnoticed as he sways on the spot, doing his best to let his passionate love for singing distract him from the man looming at the door. “Throw our lives away, for one happy day.”

“We can be heroes,” Hansol’s voice suddenly joins in – a bit shaky and uncertain, but clear and stubborn nonetheless – and Seungkwan jolts out from his reverie in surprise and turns to watch the other looking at him with soft eyes. “Just for one day.”

Glaring while his heart is beating ridiculously quickly is an incredibly hard task to do, but Seungkwan perseveres, practically spitting out the next lines of “You, you will be mean.”

“No, I won’t,” Hansol’s voice is painfully earnest and sincere as he slowly makes his way into the room, and his eyes are still so soft and dark and Seungkwan turns around quickly before…before something happens.

“And I, I’ll drink all the time,” Seungkwan quietly half-sings the next lines, and he can practically feel Hansol creeping up behind him. His cheeks feel horrendously warm, and he curses himself for still being so weak when it comes to the younger man.

“We should be lovers,” Hansol whispers, and even though Seungkwan knows that it’s simply the lyrics of a song he began singing, he still flushes. Spinning around, he pushes past Hansol and stomps out of the photocopying room. He almost bowls over Chan in his haste to race down the hallway and get as far away as possible from the photographer, but he can’t find it in himself to feel sorry.

“Wait!” Hansol’s voice calls from behind him, and Seungkwan speeds up aimlessly and without direction. “Seungkwan, Seungkwan, please.”

Hansol’s hand circles around his wrist, jolting him to a stop and – like some heroine from a drama – Seungkwan whips around dramatically to face the other. He glares as ferociously as he can despite the pink tinting his cheeks and he yanks his wrist free.

“What?” He hisses, and Hansol’s gaze is a confusing mix of sweet and apologetic and warm and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” Hansol says quickly, throwing out the words as though he were afraid that Seungkwan may bolt away again if he takes too long to say his part (he’s not exactly wrong). “I’m really sorry, Seungkwan. I just…I’m sorry.”

Seungkwan moves his glare from the other’s face to the floor; the way Hansol is looking at him is too much of everything, and Seungkwan isn’t ready to just forgive the other. The floor is truly the safest place to look at.

“I hate you so much,” he mutters spitefully, and he watches Hansol’s feet shift uneasily.

“I know,” is the gentle response. “Can I...can I make it up to you somehow?”

“You can stay the hell away from me,” Seungkwan spits out, and he wipes angrily at his cheeks (which are hot to the touch, but thankfully dry) with furious hands. Turning around, he stomps away before suddenly spinning around again and aggressively adding: “And you can also give me your daily cup of coffee.”

“Okay,” Hansol agrees immediately and easily.

“Just like that?”

“Yeah.”

Seungkwan can feel his face scrunching up in frustration, so he tosses out one final, passionate: “I hate you, jackass!” before rushing off. He can still hear Hansol’s quiet I know trailing after him.


-x-


“Jun-hyung!” Seokmin happily throws an arm around the older man’s shoulders as the other is waiting by the microwave for his lunch to be reheated. Junhui jumps a little in surprise, but quickly offers a smile to the younger writer and leans into his touch.

“Hi, Seokmin,” Junhui wraps an arm around Seokmin’s waist affectionately, and the younger almost feels bad about taking advantage of his doting hyung. “How are you?”

“I’m good, hyung. I just wanted to tell you that I think you look really handsome today,” Seokmin says as truthfully as he can, and Junhui blushes before squirming a bit.

“Ah, thank you Seokmin,” Junhui grins bashfully before reaching up and tousling the other’s hair. “You look very handsome today too.”

“Thanks, hyung! I really like the shirt you’re wearing too; light blue is really your colour!”

Before Junhui can respond, however, Soonyoung and Mingyu enter the room, and the former is quick to say: “Jun looks good in every colour. Gah, but I guess when you’re as handsome as he is you can pull anything off, huh, Seokmin?”

“That’s true,” Seokmin adds. “Jun-hyung does look amazing in everything he wears. He has a great fashion sense too.”

Mingyu looks back and forth between Soonyoung and Seokmin half-incredulously and half-suspiciously, but Junhui simply glows under the loving praise. His eyes are curved up in genuine glee, and he’s clearly biting his bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep a bright grin at bay; Seokmin makes a mental note to compliment the other more often, if such praise can make Junhui so happy.

“Thank you, guys,” Junhui gently pulls at the sleeve of his shirt, before adding: “I actually borrowed this sweater from Wonwoo, though.”

“Really?” Mingyu suddenly turns around from where he had been rifling through the fridge to give the sweater Junhui’s dressed in a onceover with new eyes. “This is Wonwoo-hyung’s?”

“Well, to be fair, I actually bought it for—Wonwoo!” Junhui suddenly breaks off and ducks from beneath Seokmin’s arm. The three in the room watch as Junhui runs towards the door where Wonwoo had suddenly appeared. The Chinese man lunges at the bespectacled editor and grabs him in a hug before dragging him away from the doorway with his arms still thrown all over the younger.

“Wonwoo!” They can hear Junhui prattle on as the two friends walk further and further away from the breakroom. “I was just talking about you. How have you been, Wonwoo-ah? I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long; let’s go down to the café for lunch and catch up, yeah? My treat!”

Wonwoo’s mumbled response is too quiet for anyone to catch, and Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Mingyu all shoot each other a confused glance. The microwave comes to a stop just then and releases a shrill, shrieking beep.

“Junnie-hyung’s lunch,” Mingyu mutters.


-x-


“Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol opens the editor’s office door once he receives a Yeah from inside. “I need you to—” He suddenly breaks off when he notices the monstrosity sitting proudly on the other’s desk.

“You need me to…?” Jihoon trails off as he continues typing away on his laptop, paying absolutely no heed to the vaguely impressed look painted on his boss’ face.

“Is that…is that your cup?” Seungcheol stutters out, and Jihoon finally looks up. Removing his reading glasses, the editor looks at the huge mug taking up a good portion of his desk before smiling slyly at the older man.

“It’s for my daily cup of coffee,” Jihoon says before unabashedly adding: “You never specified how big our cups could be.”

“I…” Seungcheol says before walking slowly into the room and approaching the massive thing. “Where did you even find this?”

“Online,” Jihoon shrugs. “It’s heavy as hell, but…coffee.”

When Seungcheol just continues blinking blankly at the cup, Jihoon’s smug face slowly takes on a tinge of concern, and he slowly asks, “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

Breathing in, Seungcheol sighs before shooting the editor a smile. “No, I’m just kind of impressed by what a smartass you are. Also, a bit confused by how you carry this thing…it’s like the size of you.”

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon perches his glasses back onto his nose and makes an impatient shooing motion with his hand. “Get out of my office, hyung. You’re being distracting.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Seungcheol tosses a smarmy grin at the younger before sauntering to the door and leaving. Three seconds later, he pokes his head back in with an embarrassed look on his face.

“No, wait,” he says, “I actually need you to check out this essay I found on our company database.”


-x-


“Junnie!” Soonyoung sing-songs as he wraps his arms around Junhui’s neck from behind. The Chinese man lets out an oomph sound before reaching up with soft hands to pat at Soonyoung’s arms.

“Soonyoung-ah,” Junhui sing-songs in return, and Soonyoung giggles before rubbing his face against the back of Junhui’s head. The older writer takes the affection with grace, and he simply continues typing away after a little while.

Resting his cheek against Junhui’s temple after nuzzling him for a good few minutes, Soonyoung tenderly murmurs, “My Junnie.”

“What is it?”

“How can someone be as handsome as you?” Soonyoung asks, and Junhui lets out a surprised chuckle and stops writing to gently pat Soonyoung on the cheek.

“You and Seokmin are really affectionate today, huh?”

“I’m always affectionate with you, Junnie!”

“I guess,” Junhui chuckles. “This is nice.”

“It is,” Soonyoung agrees easily enough, before impishly adding: “But seriously, Junnie. You still look so handsome and put-together, despite only getting to drink one cup of coffee a day now.”

“I’ve never been a big coffee-drinker,” Junhui shrugs, and he turns around to shoot Soonyoung a smile; the two are so close their noses were brushing against each other’s. “I’ve always been more of a tea-person.”

“Ahhh,” Soonyoung coos in admiration. “Maybe that’s why you’re so good-looking. On the other hand, I drink a lot of coffee so I’m suffering a little bit from coffee-withdrawal. I probably look terrible right now.” He sighs and makes sure to look extra pathetic, and Junhui’s face tinges with sympathy.

“Oh no,” he says. “Maybe I can—Mingyu-ah!” Junhui suddenly barks out, and Soonyoung jumps from the volume and the shock. Shooting Soonyoung a quick apologetic look, Junhui throws off the other’s arms and rushes towards Mingyu. The taller man freezes from where he had been about to knock on Wonwoo’s office door, and Junhui is quick to latch onto one of his arms and pull him away.

“You can’t go in there!” Junhui says desperately while dragging Mingyu forcefully back to his own desk. “Wonwoo isn’t feeling too well and is resting right now.”

“But I need to give him my article for tomorrow,” Mingyu says, waving the papers in his hands as proof, and Junhui quickly rips them from his grasp. Mingyu gapes at the other in disbelief, and Junhui flushes self-consciously.

“I’ll give it to him,” Junhui replies, before pasting on a bright smile. “Wonwoo told me I could go in and bother him if I have to, but he’s…he thinks he’s coming down with something and really doesn’t want to infect anyone else in the office.” When Mingyu continues looking unmoved and even more concerned and determined than before, Junhui quickly adds: “You can count on me, Mingyu-ah! Please?”

When it becomes clear that the Chinese writer won’t be swayed, Mingyu sighs and grumpily plops down onto his chair. “Fine,” he mutters.

“Thanks, Mingyu,” Junhui smiles in relief. “Wonwoo would really hate it if you got sick because of him.”

“Okay,” Mingyu’s frown doesn’t diminish, and Junhui shoots him one last regretful smile before slipping quickly into Wonwoo’s office and shutting the door with a final click.

Soonyoung watches the entire debacle unfold in utter confusion, and Minghao watches Soonyoung with narrowed eyes.


-x-


When Seungkwan goes back to his desk after helping Joshua organize some of their older articles, there is a large Starbucks coffee cup sitting there with his name scrawled in loopy print on the side. Blinking in confusion, the blonde journalist sits down and hesitantly takes a sip from the still-steaming cup. The strong, bitter flavour of an Americano bursts on his tongue, and Seungkwan hums in quiet appreciation. A brown tissue paper is resting next to the coffee, and Seungkwan picks it up and analyzes it carefully.

There is a terrible drawing of a smiling man with a bowl-cut on it, and Seungkwan snorts despite himself. He slowly traces the gentle curves of the picture, and can practically see Hansol sweating nervously while attempting his best to draw something decipherable and semi-acceptable.

Flipping the drawing around, Seungkwan sees that Hansol had messily scribbled the words: sorry for everything (and for drawing you like a bruised potato, it wasn’t my intention, honest!) on the back.

A small smile involuntarily curls on Seungkwan’s lips, and he takes another sip of the coffee before crumpling the tissue paper and tossing it into the trash.


-x-


“What are you guys up to?” Minghao is suddenly looming over Soonyoung and Seokmin with his hands braced on the desk, and the two look up from where they were bent over the latter’s laptop.

“We’re watching hamster videos?” Seokmin answers in confusion, and he turns the laptop around to show the Chinese writer a hamster roaming all over a miniature park on the screen as proof.

“No,” Minghao shakes his head impatiently. “I mean, what are you guys doing with Junhui-hyung? All the compliments and the clinginess…you two are up to something.”

“We just want to compliment him,” Soonyoung says defensively, and Minghao’s eyes narrow further. “I mean, he gets so happy when we compliment him, it’s nice to see.”

“See, if that was all then I’d be fine with it,” Minghao says before leaning closer to the other two. “But you guys are up to something, and I don’t like it. Tell me what you two are up to, now.”

The three stare at each other; Minghao glaring in suspicion and Soonyoung and Seokmin sweating nervously. This goes on for a good few moments before Seokmin finally breaks and says: “We’re trying to get coffee out of him.”

Pushing himself off the desk, Minghao continues glaring at the two. “You guys are trying to get Junhui-hyung to buy coffee for you?”

“…yeah,” Soonyoung admits shamefully.

“You guys are complimenting Junhui-hyung because you want coffee.”

“Yes,” Seokmin trails off before adding sheepishly: “I mean, we really did mean the compliments! But we just…wanted coffee as well.”

Staring at the two, Minghao shakes his head and clicks his tongue in disapproval before turning on his heels and walking away. “You guys are ridiculous,” he throws over his shoulder, and Seokmin and Soonyoung share an abashed look.




“Here you go,” Minghao returns after a few minutes, and he aggressively places down two large cups of coffee before throwing down several packets of granulated sugar and a few small containers of cream. “Coffee.”

Soonyoung gives an excited gasp before reaching for a cup with greedy fingers, and Seokmin looks up at Minghao in surprise. The Chinese man’s eyes are filled with exasperation, and Seokmin offers up a small smile.

“Thanks, Minghao,” Seokmin says, and Soonyoung nods after a sip of his beverage before repeating his gratefulness.

Rolling his eyes, Minghao says: “I bought you guys coffee, so stop complimenting Junhui-hyung with ulterior motives now,” before walking back to his own desk.

Seokmin and Soonyoung watch him go, before the former quietly says to the other: “Minghao definitely likes Jun-hyung.”

Soonyoung snorts before taking another long sip of his coffee. “As if that was ever a question.”


-x-


“Okay guys,” Seungcheol begins from where he’s standing at the front of their little conference room, two days later. “The coffee thing clearly isn’t working out, so Joshua and I are going to go through the budget plans one more time and figure out what else we can cut out to save us some money.” A cheer goes through the room, and Seungcheol rolls his eyes before adding: “You guys are pathetic.”

“You literally collapsed yesterday from caffeine-withdrawal, so shut your mouth,” Jihoon smirks teasingly with his huge-ass mug sitting right in front of him, and Jeonghan reaches forward to give the younger editor a smug high-five.

“Okay, thank you Jihoonie,” Seungcheol says. “We should have a new alternative by tomorrow, so you guys are free to pass out from being over-caffeinated now.”

“Here’s an alternative,” Seungkwan pipes up, “get rid of Hansol.”

Hansol just rolls his eyes with a small smile playing on his lips, and Seungcheol simply throws out a dry: “For the last time, Seungkwan. No.”

“Hey guys,” Soonyoung suddenly calls out, and everyone turns around to look at the black-haired writer inquisitively. “Doesn’t Junnie look ridiculously handsome today?”

“Hell yeah,” Seokmin is quick to add. “I don’t know how you do it, hyung, but you’re seriously shining today!”

Junhui flushes a deep pink, and he begins waving his hands as if in denial. Soonyoung and Seokmin continue throwing out compliments until the Chinese man bites his lip and accepts them with an embarrassed look. The glow in his eyes bely his happiness, however, and Minghao smiles fondly before reaching out and patting the other on the back.

Huffing in faux-exasperation, Seungcheol shoos everyone with a hand. “Alright, that’s it for now, so get out.”


-x-


“It’s four o’clock guys,” Joshua calls from his desk. “You know what that means.”

Chan walks over to the light switches at the front of the office, and flicks them off. All the lights flicker off, and the private offices’ lights go out soon after. While the floor isn’t completely submerged in darkness due to the windows that let in streams of sunlight, the lighting conditions aren’t ideal either, and Jihoon’s groan of frustration echoes out from his office.

“I can’t believe we’re trying to save money by cutting off the electricity early,” Jeonghan mutters as Joshua is making his way around the semi-darkness, unplugging various appliances in an attempt to conserve energy and lower their hydro costs. “Just how poor are we? How badly is Cheolie managing our expenses?”

“I can hear you!” Seungcheol’s voice calls out from his office, and Jeonghan raises his to match, shouting back: “That’s the point!”

“I mean, there are worse things,” Joshua says as he settles back into his chair and opens up his laptop again. Despite the darkness, everyone is still working quite efficiently, and the clicking of keyboards and the soft huffs of laughter and companionship fill the office. “You guys could be without coffee.”

Chapter Text

The first thing that greets Seungcheol when he drags his tired, battered body into the office early on a bright Friday morning is the bleating cacophony of a great goat chorus. He stops, blinking with uncomprehending eyes as he stares at the one…two…four…seven…ten goats that are scattered around his office, looking for all the world like they are the ones that belong there and Seungcheol is the one that’s trespassing.

“Oh my god,” he breathes out, and his coffee cup crumples indignantly in his tight grasp. He ignores the scorching hot liquid trailing in rivulets down his poor, abused hand in favour of gaping at the furry state of his workplace. “We’ve been infested by goats. I always knew this day would come, but I never knew it would come so soon.”

“What the fuck?” Jihoon’s voice sounds from behind him, and Seungcheol turns to look at the shorter male with haunted eyes.

“You’re seeing this, right?” Seungcheol asks. “I’m not hallucinating this, am I?”

“Why the fuck are there goats in our office?” Jihoon ignores his boss’ frantic line of questioning and instead chooses to glare at him, as if it was all Seungcheol’s fault that bleating, four-legged creatures are roaming around freely in their territory.

“I don’t know. I don’t!” Seungcheol insists when Jihoon only glares at him harder. “I literally just got here. We rode the elevator up here together, Jihoonie!”

“What the fuck,” is all Jihoon mutters in response.

The sound of scampering footsteps running out of the breakroom interrupts Seungcheol’s mental breakdown and Jihoon’s ferocious glowering, and the two men look up to see a frantic-looking Soonyoung rushing towards them.

“I know this looks bad,” the journalist says the moment he’s standing in front of them with a sheepish look painted on his face, “but I can explain.”

“Is that a goat?” Seokmin’s excited voice squeals from behind them, and Seungcheol just stares at Soonyoung while a sneezing white and brown goat makes its way between his legs.


-x-


“So the thing is,” Soonyoung begins, seventeen minutes later when everyone has arrived at the office, gotten their obligatory spluttering of: “Why the fuck are there goats in here?” over with, and been shuffled off incredulously into their little conference room. “You know how I was writing that article on the local petting zoo?”

“Oh no,” Seungcheol and Jihoon mutter simultaneously, and they both drop their faces into their hands in perfect unison. The black and white goat sitting between them bleats in response and proceeds to do its best in chewing through the bottom of Seungcheol’s jeans.

“Soonyoung,” Joshua groans in exhaustion, lacking any of his usual sympathy to go along with the fantastic splatter of goat saliva decorating the inside of his left thigh. Soonyoung winces but continues.

“No, hear me out,” he says, and everyone sighs before settling back down. “The thing is, they were going to close down the petting zoo because they’re weren’t churning out enough profit. And they were going to put down all these animals because they didn’t know what else to do!” His voice begins raising in pitch, and his eyes almost seem to be watering under the fluorescent office lights. “I couldn’t just let them die! They’re just…they’re just goats, they never did anything wrong. So I…so I told Yeseul-ssi that I’ll take them all off his hands. But then I remembered my apartment has a no-pet policy, so I…I snuck them in here last night.”

“Last night?” Seungcheol cries. “You let them roam around all night?”

“They were sleeping like the little innocent babies that they are,” Soonyoung shouts back before settling down again. Sniffling, he says: “Please don’t make me take them back. I can’t just let them die. Please, Seungcheol-hyung.”

Sighing, Seungcheol slumps in his chair and stares at Soonyoung. The journalist’s cheeks are a bit ruddy from his emotional outburst, and his eyes are slightly wet as he peers up at his boss desperately. He’s biting his bottom lip nervously, and he’s cradling one of the littler goats against his chest protectively. Letting out a deep breath, Seungcheol rubs the bridge of his nose before saying: “Fine. They can stay. But only for a day, Soonyoung. We’ll figure something out and make sure they find a new home where they’ll be properly taken care of, okay? But we can’t harbour a bunch of goats in our office.”

The smile Soonyoung shoots Seungcheol is tremulous and grateful, and Seungcheol feels a little bit better seeing it. Getting up, he walks towards Soonyoung and draws the shorter male into a soft hug. The small goat gives a light cry between them, and begins licking Seungcheol’s chin.

“So how many goats are there in total?” Mingyu asks from near the back, and Soonyoung disentangles himself from Seungcheol before answering.

“Fourteen altogether.”

“Do they have names, hyung?” Chan pipes up with a gentle smile.

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung shrugs a bit helplessly. “I’ve just been calling them after you guys.”

“What?” Seungkwan asks, and Soonyoung nods before gesturing to two of the goats standing in the front of the room with a tilt of his head. The bigger black one is sniffing the smaller light brown one’s bum and bleating happily the whole while as its snout presses snugly to the other’s rear. “That’s Little Mingyu and Little Wonwoo.”

“Unbelievable,” Wonwoo mutters as a light pink begins dotting his cheeks, and Junhui muffles a sharp laugh into his hands beside him.

“Wait, am I the big one or the small one?” Mingyu asks.

Soonyoung shoots him a dry look before answering: “You’re obviously the one sniffing Wonwoo’s ass.”

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan says, and Minghao almost spits out his peppermint mocha as a series of chuckles make their way up his throat.

“Yeah, Little Soonyoung and Little Seokmin are the two inseparable ones,” Soonyoung says thoughtfully while bouncing the little goat in his arms gently. “Little Seungcheol is the big grey one with a droopy face, and Little Joshua keeps shouting at the plants. Little Minghao is the one chewing through Hansol’s pants right now – the little shit bit my ass this morning – and Little Junhui keeps tripping over its own legs. Little Chan is the one that keeps leaping up onto the tables and counters; I guess it likes being taller than everyone else. Little Hansol keeps getting wedged between chair legs and the one that keeps sneezing is Little Seungkwan. Little Jihoon is the small dark brown goat with the angry look on its face all the time. Oh,” he perks up, “and Little Jeonghan is the one that keeps jumping into the garbage.”

“Why am I the one that jumps into garbage?” Jeonghan calls out indignantly, and Seungcheol turns to shoot the blonde a smarmy smirk.

“You’re probably just trying to get back to your natural habitat.”

“Cheolie, you absolute ass,” Jeonghan says with an angry little scowl. “I am many things, but garbage is not one of them.”

“Hey,” the elder replies with a nonchalant shrug and a teasing smirk. “I’m just saying it how I see it.”

“Well then hurry up and go to an optometrist to get your poor eyes checked out, because boy, you are one blind bastard.”

“What’s the extra goat called?” Joshua pipes up, effectively halting the two older men’s semi-faux argument, and Soonyoung beams before lifting the little goat in his arms a bit higher.

“I named this little baby Soonseok,” he announces proudly. Seokmin stands up from his chair with a gasp and begins haltingly approaching Soonyoung and the goat as the older journalist continues with soft eyes, “Because Seokmin and I are soulmates, and I wanted to commemorate that fact.”

“Hyung,” Seokmin says – his voice cracking with emotion – once he is standing in front of the other. “Are you saying…are you saying that this is my child?”

“Seokmin,” Soonyoung answers in kind. “I’m saying that this is our child.”

“Oh, hyung!” Seokmin cries before gathering Soonyoung and the passive goat into his arms. “I’ve always wanted to have a child with you. Of course we’re doing everything a bit out of order, but I don’t mind raising a child with you for a few years before getting married. Anything is fine as long as I’m doing it with you.”

“Oh Seokmin!” Soonyoung cries just as passionately, and the goat bleats almost happily between them. “You took the words right out of my mouth! Let’s raise Soonseok together, save up some money, and then we’ll get married. We can have a big venue, and order four cakes, and have an all-you-can-eat buffet!”

“Oh Soonyoung-hyung,” Seokmin breathes out before nuzzling his face against the top of Soonyoung’s head. “You always know what I want. I love you, hyung.”

“And I love you, Seokmin,” Soonyoung proclaims honestly, and the two of them begin rocking side-to-side while babbling sweet nonsense to each other.

“Cute,” Hansol says. Joshua just nods beside him, smile fond but eyes swimming with exasperated disbelief.


-x-


“Hyung, Wonwoo-hyung!” Mingyu calls right before the elder can slip into his office. In Wonwoo’s brief moment of hesitation, Mingyu’s long-legged strides bring him right next to the other, and he offers Wonwoo a hesitant but honest grin. “Hi, Wonwoo-hyung.”

“Hi, Mingyu-ah,” Wonwoo says, and the uncomfortableness painted on his face makes Mingyu hurt a little bit, but he holds onto his smile – awkward and uncertain though it may be.

“How…how are you, hyung?” Mingyu asks, and when Wonwoo blinks up at him in slight confusion, he adds: “Junhui-hyung told me a few days ago that you weren’t feeling too well. I got concerned.”

“Oh, right,” Wonwoo coughs awkwardly into his fist and shuffles his feet. His fingers grasp the doorway to his office tightly and he avoids Mingyu’s eyes despite the younger doing his best to catch them. “I’m still not feeling too well, so you might want to stay away from me. I’d…I’d really hate for you to get sick too.”

“Well, I hope you’ll feel better soon, Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu says earnestly before offering a thermos to the other. “I made you chicken soup with ginseng. I remember how it used to always make you feel better whenever you caught a cold and stuff.” When Wonwoo just stares at the proffered item blankly, Mingyu blanches a bit and slowly retracts his gift. “I mean, you don’t have to drink it or anything. Your tastes could have changed, and…I’m so sorry, Wonwoo-hyung, I didn’t properly think this through. I’ll just leave you alone now, I’m so sorry.”

He turns around but before he can take a step, Wonwoo’s hand jerks out and catches the inside of his elbow. “Wait,” he says, and Mingyu turns around in cautious hope. Wonwoo’s eyes flicker to meet his briefly before dropping back to the floor, and Mingyu can’t help but smile gently at the top of the other’s head. “It…it still makes me feel better whenever I get ill. Thank you for thinking about me, Mingyu.”

“It’s no problem, hyung,” Mingyu knows his eyes are too soft and the tone of his voice is unbearably fond, but he can’t do anything to stop it. Instead, all he does is press the thermos into Wonwoo’s waiting arms before backing away quickly.

“Please take good care of yourself, hyung,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo offers him an imperceptible nod. “I hope the soup helps.”

“I’m sure it will,” Wonwoo murmurs, and a soft red slowly creeps up into his cheeks. “Thank you again, Mingyu-ah, and I’ll…I’ll see you around.” With that, he quickly ducks into his office and closes the door with a light click. Mingyu bites his bottom lip while lingering outside the office door for a moment. Shuffling on his feet, he sighs softly.

“Mingyu-ah!” Junhui’s voice suddenly calls out urgently, and Mingyu turns around to see the Chinese man walking towards him with quick steps and a concerned look painted on his face.

“Hi, Junhui-hyung,” Mingyu murmurs despondently. Junhui stops right in front of the taller man and crosses his arms as if in disapproval though his lips are pursed in clear worry.

“What are you doing in front of Wonwoo’s office?”

“Oh,” blushing, Mingyu looks down a bit self-consciously. “Nothing, hyung. I was just giving him some chicken soup with ginseng since you told me he wasn’t feeling too well.”

Blinking, Junhui asks: “You gave it to him already?”

“Yeah.”

Sighing, Junhui offers Mingyu a hesitant but honest smile before murmuring, “Good then.” Straightening back up, he continues more briskly: “Anyways, we need you in the breakroom. Little Seungkwan decided to take a dump right in the middle of the floor and we need help cleaning up.”

“Cleaning up the poop?” Mingyu asks with a raised brow, and Junhui flinches a bit.

“Some of it got caught under its hooves and…well…there’s trails of poop everywhere.”

“Hyung,” Mingyu groans in disgust. “I don’t want to do it. Can’t you get someone else to help you?”

“Mingyu-ah,” Junhui calls sweetly before latching himself onto the taller man’s arm with two clingy hands. “Please help hyung, you big, tall, handsome person.”

“Honestly, hyung,” Mingyu huffs with a roll of his eyes, but he obediently begins making his way to the breakroom even as Junhui is wrapped all around his right forearm and bicep. “Fine, but only because you called me handsome.”

“So handsome.”

“I get it, hyung.”


-x-


“I am a serious journalist,” Seungkwan mutters to himself on his hands and knees as he’s rummaging through the small lawn outside their office building and ripping up patches of grass and long pieces of weed with two aggressive fists. “I spent four years in university, perfecting my craft. I graduated in the top…well…at least the top one-hundred of my class maybe. I am a respectable, hard-working journalist. Have I written on any life-altering, super-important events yet? No…but I’m getting there. I’m just building up my credentials for now through fun articles on popular tourist locations…but soon, soon my amazing writing will be recognized everywhere and I’ll win a…Pulitzer award or something equally shiny and breathtaking. Because I’m a very serious, very respectable, extremely admired journalist.” Huffing from exertion, Seungkwan leans back and settles on his haunches before peering into the cardboard box sitting innocuously by his side. Piles of turf look back at him.

“…I am literally ripping up grass for the fourteen goats we have stashed away in our office,” Seungkwan whispers with blank eyes while gazing at the proof of his extensive labour for the past half-an-hour. “I have wasted four years of my life and squandered away thousands of dollars in higher education to end up here. As a grass-picker. A goat-pleaser.” Throwing the handful of grass he still had clutched in his fist into the box, Seungkwan looks up to the high heavens and thinks: Ah yes, this is my evil origin story.

The click of a camera shutter rips him away from his villainous brooding, and he spins around on his knees to see Hansol leaning against the building, his camera loftily held up by two steady hands, and a small smile curling up the edges of his lips. His eyes – despite being a little bit hesitant – scream of mischievousness, and Seungkwan can feel his ears heating up in embarrassment.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” He hisses, pushing himself off of his knees and stalking towards Hansol. He does his best to bury his mortification under a strong layer of indignation, and prays that his face isn’t as red as it feels.

Hansol’s grin falters a little bit as he shifts his gaze down to the screen on his camera. He studies the picture taken for a moment before turning back towards Seungkwan. Despite the fact that he’s no longer smiling, his face looks as gentle and as open as if he still were.

“In my defense,” he says, “the sun was shining down on you just right.”

“Let me see it, you jackass,” Seungkwan demands, and Hansol passes over his camera without protest.

Seungkwan scrutinizes the photo. The lighting really was perfect; beams of sunlight is shining down on him, highlighting the varying shades of yellow and gold that make up his hair. His lips are pressed together in a childish pout, and his cheeks are a light pink hue from the heat and labour. He looks…alive in the picture, as if he were somehow in motion. Blinking down at the camera screen, Seungkwan remembers how Hansol had once told him: “If you want your picture to come out well, get someone who loves you to take it.”

Frowning, he thrusts the camera back to the photographer.

“How is it?” Hansol asks with a tiny hopeful expression dancing on his face.

“…I look awful.”

“Yeah?” Hansol asks, even as his eyes go soft and fond as he looks down at the picture. “Should I delete it then?”

Turning away from the younger man, Seungkwan makes his way back to his abandoned patch of grass and picks up the cardboard box holding the lunches of fourteen ravenous goats. “Yes,” he simply says.

He pretends he can’t see the regretful smile Hansol wears as he dutifully deletes the photo.


-x-


“Papa,” Seokmin coos affectionately at Soonseok, cradling the small goat in his arms. Soonseok, however, is too busy licking at the column of Seokmin’s neck to actually pay any attention the journalist’s tender words. “Papa, I’m your papa. Come on, you can say it, Soonseok. Papa.”

“That’s literally a goat,” Jeonghan says. He takes a bite of his jajangmyeon before continuing through his mouthful of food: “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but goats can’t say ‘papa’, Seokmin.”

Soonyoung gives a dramatic gasp and briskly walks from where he was rummaging through the fridge to lean over Seokmin’s shoulder and cup Soonseok’s flappy ears with his hands. “Can you please practice a little bit of discretion, hyung? Soonseok is just a baby.”

“Yeah,” Seokmin pipes up, running one gentle palm up and down Soonseok’s flank. “We haven’t even told them that they’re adopted yet, hyung.”

“Soonyoung, Seokmin,” Jeonghan says seriously, placing down his chopsticks in order to give his undivided attention to the two younger men. “Soonseok is literally a goat. I really don’t think you can hide the fact that they’re adopted from them.”

“Hyung!” Seokmin cries in great dismay as Soonyoung exclaims: “And to think we were even considering naming you the godfather!”

“What?” Jeonghan blinks. “You guys want me to be Soonseok’s godfather?”

“Well we did,” Soonyoung says and Seokmin nods regretfully. Soonseok chooses now to gnaw at the sleeves of Soonyoung’s grey sweater and slather the wooly material with spittle. “But I don’t really think it’s a good idea anymore. I mean, you can’t even be sensitive to Soonseok’s feelings, hyung! How can we trust you to properly take care of them if anything happens to us?”

Jeonghan just continues blinking up at the two of them for another moment before repeating again, “You guys want me to be Soonseok’s godfather?”

Soonyoung and Seokmin share a long look before the latter says: “As long as you can practice a little bit of delicacy, hyung, and be a bit more aware of Soonseok’s feelings, then yeah. We’d love for you to be their godfather.”

An angelic smile blossoms on Jeonghan’s face, and the blonde man reaches out to tickle Soonseok gentle beneath its chin. Soonseok snuffles quietly, and Jeonghan beams up at his two dongsaengs.

“The two of you were always my favourite children,” Jeonghan says happily. “I knew I could always count on you guys.”

“Baba,” Soonseok suddenly bleats amidst Jeonghan’s gentle ministrations, and Seokmin lets out a happy yelp.

“Baba!” He squeals gleefully. Soonyoung is clapping his hands excitedly behind him and Seokmin continues elatedly. “That’s basically papa! Soonseok said baba. They recognize me; they called me baba!”

“Baba,” Soonseok bleats again and a series of congratulatory yelps echo through the breakroom.

“That’s my godchild!” Jeonghan cries out proudly.


-x-


“Oh, Wonwoo,” Junhui’s sympathetic voice murmurs behind him, and Wonwoo self-consciously huddles down a bit lower, his body curving almost protectively over his thermos of soup. A gentle hand comes up to massage at the nape of the editor’s neck, and while Wonwoo doesn’t relax, he doesn’t tense up anymore either. After a few long moments, Junhui’s hand leaves Wonwoo’s neck and he plops down on the bench beside the younger man.

“Hi.” Junhui’s voice is sweet and understanding, and Wonwoo flushes in greater shame at how compassionate his friend sounds. Looking down at the soup, Wonwoo swirls his metal spoon around and watches as pieces of chicken and onion float about in the thin broth. “Did Mingyu-ah make that for you?” Junhui asks once in becomes clear that Wonwoo wouldn’t be the one to initiate a conversation.

Wonwoo nods and Junhui clicks his tongue lightly. They sit in silence for a moment, staring at the small green yard (while studiously ignoring the patches of ground with tufts of missing grass) before Junhui hesitantly asks: “Wonwoo, are you sure that…avoiding Mingyu is the best way of going about this?”

Wonwoo breathes in deeply. He can feel Junhui’s patiently concerned stare burning into him, and if it were anyone else, the insistent gaze would feel awfully uncomfortable. Instead, the Chinese man’s imploring eyes bring a strange sense of comfort to the other, and Wonwoo forces himself to slowly relax.

“No, I’m not,” he confesses quietly. Junhui reaches out and places a steady arm around his shoulders. Wonwoo leans in a bit to the other’s touch. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

“I think you should talk to him,” Junhui’s voice is equal parts tentative and confident, and Wonwoo blanches at the mere notion. “I just…I don’t think avoiding him is really helping you.” After a brief pause, Junhui softly adds: “Mingyu-ah looked really sad today too, when I saw him.”

The last thing Wonwoo wants is for Mingyu to be sad, but he’s also seen the other in a state that’s worse than sad. He’s seen him…completely heartbroken and crestfallen and…this is simply better. Mingyu being a bit forlorn is better than him being completely inconsolable. Swallowing down the small lump in his throat, Wonwoo says, “No. I…no.”

When the concerned look doesn’t diminish in Junhui’s eyes, Wonwoo adds a bit more forcefully: “You promised Jun.”

“I know,” Junhui bites his bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. “And I’ll keep my promise. I just…” He sighs a bit before gently jostling their shoulders together. “I just want you to be happy. I want Mingyu-ah to be happy too. I just want the both of you to be happy; I don’t like seeing the two of you sad.”

The smile Wonwoo shoots Junhui is a bit small, but completely genuine. “We will be, Jun-ah. Don’t worry too much.” When Junhui just continues frowning disquietly, Wonwoo adds playfully: “Come on, don’t frown like that. You’re gonna get a bunch of wrinkles if you keep frowning, and then Minghao will never agree to go out with you.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Junhui mutters petulantly, but a small smile curls up the corners of his lips. Wonwoo chuckles softly before taking a slow sip of his soup. The taste is achingly familiar, and Wonwoo does his best to not think of Mingyu standing over a stove and cooking in the early hours of the morning out of concern for Wonwoo. The lump he has to swallow down this time is a little bit bigger than the last one.


-x-


When Jihoon bursts into his office with anger visible on every line of his face and clear irritation rolling off his body in waves, Seungcheol can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu wash over him. Despite the familiarity of the situation, however, he still jumps up immediately in concern and rushes towards the other.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is everything okay? Who do I need to beat up?”

“Nothing is okay and I can beat up people by myself, thank you very much,” Jihoon hisses in reply before breathing in deeply. Seungcheol can see the younger man visibly reigning in his panic before he continues in a frustration-laced voice: “Little Hansol just ate my USB.”

Seungcheol can feel relief flood his veins as images of dead goats and burning human bodies are chased away from his mind. “Okay. Did you back up your files?”

“It’s not my files I’m worried about,” Jihoon says and a vein actually begins throbbing on his forehead. He breathes in deeply one more time before muttering, “My USB has an account summary of our spendings for the previous three years.” When Seungcheol simply stands there – large eyes and gaping mouth clear indicators that he most definitely does not understand the urgency of this matter – Jihoon continues through clenched teeth: “It also has our financial plan for the upcoming term and year.”

Seungcheol can actually feel the blood drain from his face.

“Oh my god,” he whimpers. Jihoon peers up at him through his lashes, and Seungcheol blurts out, “Well get it out of the goat, quick!”

“And how the fuck do you propose I do that, hyung?” Jihoon snaps back irritably.

“Get them to vomit it out or something.” The look Jihoon shoots Seungcheol is utterly unimpressed. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, the older man rakes frantically through his mind before shouting out: “We have laxatives in our medicine cupboard! Do laxatives work on goats? We can get the goat to shit out the USB.”

“Great, fantastic,” Jihoon says before spinning on his heels and stomping out of the office and towards their breakroom. Seungcheol is quick to rush after the younger man. “I swear to God I’m quitting after this, hyung,” Jihoon mutters as they dodge meandering goats and suspicious wet patches covering their office’s hardwood floor. “Stuffing fucking laxatives down a goat’s throat is not in my job description. I’m quitting this shitshow afterwards and moving to Finland or somewhere far away where I can pretend that the entire duration of my employment here was a bad acid trip or something.”

“If this is your way of wrestling a bonus out of me,” Seungcheol begins with a faltering grin before the weak smile disappears completely, “it’s completely working.”

Jihoon turns around to shoot his boss an exasperated glare, and Seungcheol begs, “Please don’t leave me here alone, Jihoonie. I will literally end up losing my mind. You’re the only person here that’s keeping me sane. Please stay; I love my sanity.”

They reach the breakroom and Jihoon begins rifling through their medicine cabinet while Seungcheol stands beside him with big eyes and a half-pout. He emerges after a few moments with a bottle of laxatives in hand. Shooting Seungcheol a tired smirk, Jihoon says, “I expect a two-hundred percent raise.”

“Alright, let’s be reasonable, okay?” Seungcheol says. “We’re literally cutting off our lights early in order to save money, do you really think I can afford to give you a bonus that big?”

“It’s not about affording, Seungcheol-hyung, it’s about deserving. And I deserve a hell of a raise for the shit you put me through.”

Sighing in partial agreement, Seungcheol shoots the editor a small smile. “How about coffee instead? I’ll buy you coffee for an entire month.”

Humming in mock contemplation, Jihoon says, “I don’t know. I really don’t think that’s enough if we’re being completely honest.”

“I’ll even let you order the crazy expensive, fancy coffees with the pretty art and egg whites with chili peppers in them.” Seungcheol wheedles with a playful grin.

Chuckling softly, Jihoon thrusts the bottle of laxatives into his boss’ hands before shoving the older man out the door. “I don’t need all that fancy stuff – but if you buy me coffee for two months I’ll consider staying.”

“Only consider?” Seungcheol asks with a faux-pout.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “And if you agree to be the one to go through Little Hansol’s shit, then I promise I’ll stay for a little bit longer.”

Seungcheol groans in disgust, but the smile on his face is bright.

“Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jihoon says with an eye-roll while making his way to the door. “Now prepare your hand for an amazing goat shit bath, hyung.”




Jihoon has his hand halfway down Little Hansol’s throat when all the lights flicker off.

“Joshua!” Seungcheol calls out after sharing a glance of total trepidation with the younger editor, “It’s not four o’clock yet!”  

“It wasn’t me!” Joshua’s voice calls back from outside, and the dread in Seungcheol’s stomach only grows larger. “I’ll go around and see what’s wrong,” Joshua continues.

A few minutes later, Joshua enters Seungcheol’s office with Little Jeonghan carefully cradled in his arms. He looks hesitant and completely exhausted, and beneath the general sense of terror flooding Seungcheol, he also feels an acute sense of sympathy for the other.

“So,” he says with weariness dripping from his soft-spoken words. “Little Jeonghan just decided to eat through our plaster and chew on the wires in the walls.”

Little Jeonghan bleats as if to defend themselves, but in that moment, all Seungcheol can liken the goat to is the Satanic offspring of their namesake.

“Why are all the Jeonghans out to ruin my life?” Seungcheol hisses.

Little Hansol chooses now to release a spluttering fart.


-x-


“Alright,” Chan announces at the end of the day. Their office is submerged in darkness and the strong scent of animals and their excrements is permeating the air. A fantastic hole decorates the wall beside Mingyu’s desk, and suspicious puddles and marks are scuffing up their once pristine hardwood floors. Everyone (with the exception of Seokmin and Soonyoung, who are beaming while doting on Soonseok) looks vaguely disgruntled and somewhat pleased that the day is coming to a close.

“I managed to find a farm a few cities over who are happy to take the goats,” Chan continues. Seungcheol gives a little cheer and smiles gratefully at the young intern. Chan smiles back before continuing: “However, they won’t be able to pick them up until Monday. So unless we take them up there ourselves, we’re stuck with the goats till after the weekend.”

“Yeah, no,” Seungkwan immediately pipes up. “We can’t take care of them for another two days, are you kidding me?”

“Well we can drive them up there ourselves,” Chan offers.

“How far away is this farm?” Jihoon asks, looking more put-out than he has ever been before (considering he had to watch Seungcheol wade through a surprising amount of manure for half an hour, his displeased expression is more than understandable).

“It’s about a four hour drive.”

Groans of dissatisfaction fill the room. Seungcheol can’t help but release a tired groan himself before speaking out. “Seungkwan is right though,” he says, and everyone settles down a bit. “There’s no way we can keep the goats for another two days. We’re going to have to get them up there ourselves.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Seungcheol can feel trepidation fill him at his next words. “Who here has a car?”

Wonwoo puts his hand up, and Hansol and Joshua slowly follow suit. Minghao confesses to the ownership with a lot more hesitation than the others, and regret shines in his round eyes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol begins, “I’m really sorry for ruining your weekends like this, but would you guys be willing to drive the goats up to the farm?”

“That’s around three goats in each car,” Wonwoo says. “There’s no way we can control three of them by ourselves while driving as well.”

Seungcheol bites his lip, but it’s clear that he agrees with Wonwoo. “Alright…I’ll need some volunteers to go along with the four of them. I’ll come along with one of you guys to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“We’re coming as well,” Soonyoung pipes up, and Seokmin nods fervently beside him while still tenderly stroking Soonseok’s furry head. “We have to be there to say goodbye to our little baby.”

“I’m Soonseok’s godfather so I think I should go as well,” Jeonghan adds. Seungcheol groans in response, and the blonde journalist simply sticks out his tongue in response.

“I’ll come,” Mingyu offers with a small smile. “I’m sure you guys can use the extra help.”

“I’ll come too!” Junhui is quick to add. “I’ll go with Wonwoo-ah; we were supposed to hang out during the weekend anyway, so this is a good alternative,” he adds while throwing an arm around said man’s shoulders. Mingyu seems to deflate just a little, and Junhui looks equally as miserable.

“Should I come, hyung?” Chan asks. “I actually talked to Sungmin-ssi.”

“If you’re not too busy,” Seungcheol grins at the younger man and reaches out a hand to playfully ruffle the other’s head. Chan groans playfully while swatting his hyung’s hand away from his now-messy hair. “You’ve already done enough, Chan. It’s alright if you skip this one.”

“I’m skipping this one,” Seungkwan pipes up. “I just went through some sort of crisis while picking grass and need to meditate over the weekend or something.”

“Alright,” Seungcheol agrees easily enough. “How about you, Jihoonie?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay then,” Seungcheol says with a tired grin. “I’ll stay here overnight, I guess, to make sure the goats don’t go wild or anything. Those who are coming along, please be here by nine o’clock tomorrow morning. We have a long drive ahead of us, so we might as well start early. And thank you for agreeing to drive, Joshua, Minghao, Hansol, and Wonwoo. I’ll treat you guys to dinner after this or something.”

Turning to Jeonghan, Seungcheol adds: “You really don’t have to come, Jeonghan.”

“I’m not coming for you, Cheolie,” is Jeonghan’s response. “Also you don’t own me.”

Little Jeonghan bleats – almost in agreement – and Seungcheol just smiles the smile of a broken man.

Chapter Text

“No, no. You guys need to go there. Go to Joshua-hyung’s car. It’s that bright blue one over there. We already have full occupancy here, sorry. Shoo…begone!”

Minghao watches as Mingyu attempts to explain to Little Jihoon and Little Hansol that no, there are no more seats available in Minghao’s expensive Mercedes-Benz SUV so move your furry little butts elsewhere please and thank you very much with a familiar and growing sense of trepidation. The dread began the moment he had reluctantly volunteered his car for this expedition; it continued growing in size as he was covering all his beautiful, pristine leather seats and his sleek, stylish dashboard with clear wrap; and it only worsened when he pulled up to their office building only to be greeted by Seungcheol’s tired face and haunted eyes as a bunch of goats pranced freely and happily around him in a poetically antithetical tableau truly deserving of a Pulitzer award.

Running a careful hand over the hood of his car, Minghao watches as Mingyu – evidently having given up on attempting to coerce the two stubborn goats with words – scoops up Little Jihoon and Little Hansol into his arms and bodily carries them towards Joshua’s light blue sedan. Watching as Mingyu begins a conversation with Jeonghan and Joshua while transferring the goats into the waiting arms of their hyungs, Minghao can’t help but release a tired groan.

“You sound annoyed,” Junhui’s voice sounds from behind him, and Minghao turns to see the older offering him a characteristically sweet smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s just great,” Minghao can’t help but sound waspish. When Junhui’s smile flickers just a bit, however, he immediately feels bad and attempts to lock down his irritation. “I just can’t believe that this is my life now, is all,” he adds with a small, tired sigh, and Junhui giggles, his smile coming back as easily as it had gone.

“What, you’ve never ever thought about driving a bunch of goats up to a farm four hours away, ever?” The elder asks teasingly. Rolling his eyes, Minghao scoffs and feels his own lips twisting up into a grin. Junhui has always been good at making him smile, even when smiling is the furthest thing from his mind. This time is no different, despite the fact that he’s parked up in the driveway of their workplace at nine-twenty-one on a Saturday morning as the delightfully pungent scent of goat manure permeates the air around them.

“I can’t say I have, no.”

“Ahhh,” Junhui tsks in mock-disapproval. “You’re clearly lacking in imagination then, Minghao. Anyone with a good imagination would have thought about starring in a blockbuster hit with a bunch of goats at least once in their life. How can you call yourself a writer when you have no imagination, HaoHao?”

“My name is Minghao; I’m a journalist, not a writer,” Minghao stresses while playfully pushing at Junhui’s shoulder. “And you’re ridiculous, hyung. Are you telling me you’ve thought about being a chauffeur for goats before?”

“I write horoscopes, HaoHao. I am guided by the stars and led by some fantastic divination. I didn’t just think about this happening, I foresaw it.”

“You can see the future now? Wahhh, hyung. You’re really something else,” Minghao drawls sarcastically. When Junhui only nods in agreement with a silly smile painted on his face, Minghao snorts and adds: “Tell me something about my future then.”

The way Junhui’s smile softens into something much more intimate and genuine leaves a streak of warmth dashing through Minghao’s chest, and the younger man has to stupidly remind himself to breathe. Junhui seems to actually be seriously considering his words, his pretty eyes drifting intensely over Minghao’s face before he earnestly says: “You’re going to be really happy.”

Minghao swallows thickly, knowing all-too-well that his cheeks are tinted pink. “Yeah?” He asks. When Junhui nods firmly, Minghao can’t help but throw out a “How?”

“Well,” Junhui begins with a childish grin. “It starts out small, but your day begins to brighten up when your handsome coworker hands you a nice, hot hazelnut latte with a butter croissant on the side.”

Despite biting down on his bottom lip, Minghao can’t stop a few fond chuckles from escaping when Junhui dramatically whips out said drink and pastry from behind his back and presents his offerings to him. Junhui’s proud smile only widens when Minghao accepts his gifts with a small grin of his own.

“Thank you, Junhui-hyung,” Minghao murmurs.

Junhui hums softly, looking oddly content before he playfully asks: “I’m pretty good at this fortunetelling stuff, aren’t I?”

Looking down to avoid Junhui’s affectionate gaze, Minghao takes an appreciative sip of his coffee. “My day’s starting to look a bit better, so you’re not completely awful.”

Junhui chuckles before looking quickly behind himself. Turning back around, he shoots Minghao a small smile. “I think I’ve left Wonwoo alone long enough now. I should probably go help him herd those goats.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Minghao replies, doing his best to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“I’ll see you later, HaoHao. Good luck with the goats!” Junhui tosses out over his shoulder with a supportive fist pump and a cute little wave, and Minghao tries to smother his embarrassingly fond smile in the rim of his cup. He watches the elder bounce away with affectionate eyes and an endeared heart. Taking another sip of his coffee, Minghao sighs and quietly yearns for the other.

“Are you guys finally done flirting?” Mingyu suddenly asks, peeking out slyly from over the hood of the car and almost causing Minghao to drop his coffee and pastry in surprise.

Rushing around the vehicle, Minghao aims a series of semi-faux kicks to Mingyu’s long legs in retaliation, studiously ignoring his teasing huffs of laughter in between his pleas for mercy.


-x-


Seungcheol’s parting words had been: “Call me if anything happens, but please…don’t let anything happen” and now he’s sitting in the front of Hansol’s car, feeling more anxiety than any man ever should and half-deliriously imagining some awful god (that probably looks like Jeonghan to be very honest) just sitting up there in heaven, looking down at them and vengefully throwing shit at Seungcheol just when he prays that no shit shall be thrown in his direction.

“Okay,” Chan is reaching forward to fiddle with Hansol’s GPS from where he is sitting in the backseat, surrounded by Little Seokmin and Little Soonyoung. “Did you put in the location I gave you?”

“Yeah,” Hansol nods, gently pushing away Chan’s fingers to fiddle with the GPS himself. He presses a few buttons on the device with slightly furrowed brows, and Seungcheol closes him eyes (just in time too, because Little Seungkwan chooses now to wetly lick all over his face). “Just let me…ahhh, there we go.”

The GPS flickers to life, a red arrow popping up in front of the little avatar representing Hansol’s car. Chan leans forward again to pat Hansol’s back in the congratulatory manner, and the photographer smiles proudly before pushing the stick shift into drive.

“You guys ready to go?”

Seungcheol looks out from his window to see Minghao’s pristine SUV pulling away from the office with Wonwoo’s modest black hardtop following behind. Joshua appears to be coaxing Little Hansol into taking a dump on the grass before boarding his car, and Seungcheol closes his eyes once more, thinking about all the other things he’d rather be doing on a Saturday morning than this.

“Let’s do it!” Chan pipes up cheerfully in the back, and the car jolts into motion.

There’s silence for a few moments before Seungcheol asks: “Can I change the song? Hot Line Bling has kind of been ruined for me now.”

“How can you not like Hot Line Bling?” Hansol asks, sounding very much offended on Drake’s behalf.

“The stripper, Hansol,” Chan answers for Seungcheol, sparing him the pain of uttering the words himself. “The stripper.”

“Oh, right.” Relenting, Hansol presses a button on his iPod and Whatcha’ Say fills the car.

The look Seungcheol shoots Hansol is just mildly disgusted, and the way he allows his forehead to drop harshly against the window is just a half-hearted cry for blissful unconsciousness.


-x-


“You guys are awfully quiet,” Joshua says, forty-five minutes into the drive with only the occasional bleating of the goats and the quiet singing of Seokmin punctuating the silence. He looks briefly into the rearview mirror at Soonyoung and Seokmin with concern swimming in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine, hyung,” Seokmin says with a wan grin. When Joshua’s worried frown doesn’t disappear, the younger drops his half-assed mask of happiness and shrugs a bit haplessly before reaching out to gently tickle Soonseok under their chin. “I guess we’re just a bit down since…you know, we have to say goodbye to Soonseok in a few hours.”

The wail Soonyoung releases almost causes Joshua to swerve off the lane. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to Soonseok,” the black-haired journalist blubbers into the small goat’s neck. “Soonseok’s still a baby. A baby! I spent so little time with them; this isn’t enough. I don’t want to say goodbye, not yet!” Soonyoung’s emotional outburst seemed to be the breaking pointing for Seokmin too, who sniffles disastrously next to his older companion, and Joshua gulps, feeling just a bit out-of-his-depth.

He is saved from his floundering by Jeonghan, who sighs empathetically before turning around to face the two younger men. “It’s difficult saying goodbye to your babies, huh? But I mean…that’s just how life works. All you can do is prepare them for the future, and let them go when it’s time for them to go.” When Soonyoung and Seokmin just continue sitting there, looking sad and pathetic, Jeonghan offers them a small smile. “Come on, guys. It’ll be alright. I’m sure you can visit Soonseok all the time, or maybe you can even ask Sungmin-ssi for regular updates on them, yeah? Everything will turn out alright, you’ll see. You two trust your hyung, don’t you?”

“We do,” Seokmin answers immediately in an almost Pavlovian reaction, and Soonyoung nods beside him in agreement.

“That’s right,” Jeonghan says resolutely. “Now dry your tears; you don’t want to waste the few hours you have left with Soonseok by crying, now do you?”

“No, hyung,” Soonyoung agrees and wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his red shirt.

“There’s my good dongsaeng. Now why don’t you guys play with Soonseok for a bit? That way, you’ll have another nice memory to treasure when you guys are separated.”

Joshua’s eyes flicker once more to the rearview mirror in time to see Soonyoung nod and offer Jeonghan a smile of his own while Seokmin gathers the goat into his arms. Quiet chatter begins to fill the backseat, and Jeonghan smiles fondly at his two dongsaengs before turning back around to face the front.

Joshua shoots his blonde friend an impressed look when their eyes meet, and Jeonghan just offers him a cheeky wink in response.


-x-


“Do you think Wonwoo-hyung is avoiding me?”

“What?” Minghao shoots Mingyu a confused look through the rearview mirror, and the taller man just shrugs.

“It just feels like Wonwoo-hyung is avoiding me.”

“Why would he be avoiding you?” Minghao asks while diverting his eyes back to the road. Little Junhui snuffles and presses their cold snout against his right arm, but he’s become quite the expert at ignoring such distractions.

“I don’t know,” Mingyu practically moans before dropping his head into his hands. Little Chan begins to sympathetically nibble on his shirt sleeve, and Mingyu only groans louder.

“I thought you guys were getting better?”

“I thought so too!” Mingyu exclaims, his head popping up again with a mixed expression of outrage and distress painted on his face. “I mean…things were never going to be perfect, but I thought they were at least good. But then suddenly he’s just…scurrying around me all the time and always slipping out of the room when I enter it. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Minghao bites his bottom lip while juggling a series of answers in his head. While he would normally dismiss some of Mingyu’s more banal concerns, the topic of Wonwoo has always been a more sensitive one that genuinely upsets Mingyu, and Minghao wants to give it the proper thought and consideration it deserves.

“Maybe he just needs a bit more time,” he offers hesitantly after a stretch of silence.

“He’s had years!” Mingyu explodes before slouching back down. His next words sound vaguely apologetic as he murmurs: “I don’t want him to be upset at me. It makes me upset when he’s not happy.”

Minghao hums in empathy before suggesting: “Have you tried talking to him?”

“He’s not making it easy,” Mingyu complains while running a distracted hand through the tuft of fur on Little Joshua’s head. “He can be one slippery bastard when he wants to be. And he also has Junnie-hyung acting as some sort of buffer between the two of us. It’s annoying.”

“Junhui?” Minghao asks in disbelief. When Mingyu makes a noise of assent, Minghao practically scoffs. “There’s no way. It’s Junhui-hyung we’re talking about. He’d feel so guilty; he would never be able to do something like that.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Mingyu agrees before leaning forward as if to divulge secret information. “But for Wonwoo-hyung? You know he’d do anything for him. Do you remember what Junnie-hyung said to me when he first met me?”

“Ahhh,” Minghao shifts a bit, Junhui’s out-of-character words of: If you hurt him in any way, shape, or form, I will bite you to death, Mingyu-ssi. Even if killing you will make me cry, I will do it. Don’t underestimate me echoing through his mind.

“‘Ahhh’ exactly,” Mingyu says before leaning back. Rubbing at his head and messing up his hair, he asks in distress: “What should I do?”

“You honestly came to the wrong person for help,” Minghao says in exasperation. “You know I’m shit when it comes to relationships, Mingyu. Seriously.”

“There’s no one else I can go to with this!”

“Maybe Junhui-hyung?” Minghao recommends only half-seriously, but Mingyu’s disbelieving splutters are answer enough.  

“I can’t go to him for help.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s clearly on Team Wonwoo. He would never help me, the enemy.”

“You’re full of bullshit, Mingyu. You know Junhui cares about the both of you, not just Wonwoo-hyung. He was seriously upset when the two of you—grab that goat!” Minghao suddenly breaks off, his voice pitching in volume and alarm, causing Mingyu to jump up and knock his head painfully against the ceiling of the car. Groaning in agony, the taller of the two watches with fear as his companion endangers their lives by freaking out at the wheel of the car.

“Oh god, I forgot to clear wrap the floors,” Minghao is yelling. “Don’t let him poop on my floors, I swear to god, Mingyu. If you love me at all you’ll keep my floors clear of goat shit!”

“What do you want me to do?” Mingyu wails, before scooping Little Mingyu up into his waiting arms. The goat is trembling from exertion. Almost immediately afterwards, tension escapes from the animal’s body, and they bleat in relief at the same time a warm, soft, heavy weight lands on Mingyu’s upper thigh. He groans in disgust while his namesake just rumbles happily away while releasing little aftermath farts.

“Oh thank god; it’s just your pants.” When Mingyu kicks at the back of Minghao’s seat, the Chinese man reaches backwards with one hand to smack at his face. “Your pants are probably only ten dollars tops. My Mercedes costs thousands of dollars, Mingyu – I’m still paying off the mortgage now! It’s a small price to pay, alright?” When Mingyu just kicks the seat one last time in response, Minghao adds: “Your pants make you look like a clown anyway, okay? There, I said it.”

“Minghao,” Mingyu groans.

“Shush.”

“There’s goat poop on my pants.”

“And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t let it drop onto my floors.”

Cursing at the unfairness of it all, Mingyu stuffs his face into Little Mingyu’s neck and does his best to ignore the fantastic smell and amazing sensation wafting from and decorating his thigh.   


-x-


“The kids are taking this pretty hard, aren’t they?” Joshua asks while he and Jeonghan are waiting for their McDonald’s orders to come out. Having arrived at one of the multiple rest centers located sporadically throughout the freeway, the two older men thought food would take their dongsaengs minds’ off the inevitable goodbye, and left them with the goats in the car while they went inside to order their lunches.

Jeonghan shrugs with a small frown. “They’ll be alright. They’ll miss Soonseok for a bit, but Soonyoung and Seokmin will bounce back from this. I know it.”

“It’s just…kind of sad and strange, seeing them look so down,” Joshua continues. Their number is called and they approach the counter and grab their bags. “I hope they’ll be okay.”

“Hey,” Jeonghan tosses an arm over Joshua’s shoulders. “They’ll be okay. They’re strong kids. Also, they have us. We’ll…be there for them, and help make the loss more bearable, okay?”

Smiling softly at Jeonghan, Joshua nods in agreement with a gentle: “Okay.”

Squeezing Joshua’s shoulders one last time, Jeonghan lets go and the two exit the rest center. Walking towards Joshua’s blue sedan, they suddenly stop when frantic beeping from the highway reaches their ears. Nonchalantly looking up, their previous unconcerned state melts away as they stand there for a good, long, horrified moment, just staring at the mess occurring.

The terrible traffic that is happening on the freeway can be attributed to the three goats that are skipping quickly along the roads. Soonyoung and Seokmin are rushing after them with flailing arms and clumsy legs, and the cacophony of beeping horns are only increasing in volume and rage the longer the two men and the three goats are spending blocking the road.

Joshua and Jeonghan stand there for a moment – frozen in a terrible mixture of disbelief and horror – before they snap out of it and rush towards the highway.

“Are you kidding me right now?” A man hanging out from his car angrily yells.

Joshua bravely holds back his panicked tears and silently agrees with the man’s sentiments.


-x-


Seungcheol wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing. Blearily fishing his phone out of his pocket, he presses the answer button and manages to grunt out a barely-decipherable: “Yeah?” into the device.

“Seungcheol?” Joshua’s quiet and hesitant voice sounds from the other end. Seungcheol immediately rouses from his half-asleep state at the unease clouding Joshua’s voice.

“Joshua?” He asks thickly before shifting up in his seat. He rubs tiredly at his head and muffles a yawn before asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Um…well…” Seungcheol can hear Joshua taking in a deep, bracing breath before he drops the confession in a flurry of rushed words: “Actually we’re at a police station right now because Seokmin and Soonyoung got arrested but other than that, everything is perfectly fine.”

The last traces of blissful slumber is chased from Seungcheol’s mind, and he blinks rapidly as if that will erase what he had just heard. “I’m sorry, Joshua. I seem to have been transported to an alternate reality where my worst fears magically materialize in front of me. Do you mind repeating yourself again? Also please filter out anything I don’t want to hear, okay? I don’t think my blood pressure can take this.”

“Okay…” There’s a pause before Joshua offers up a tremulous: “They’re giving out free coffee at McDonald’s.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, only small cups though. And it’s one per person.”

“That’s smart,” Seungcheol chuckles nervously.

“Yes. Very, very smart,” Joshua gives an equally anxious titter. In the background, Seungcheol can make out Jeonghan half-yelling: “This is ridiculous! Those two are morons, but they’re innocent morons. Please let them go. They can never survive in prison; the hardened criminals they’re locked up with will ruin them!”

Groaning, Seungcheol begins rubbing the bridge of his nose. Dropping all pretenses of normalcy, he asks, “Do I want to know how they ended up there?”

“They may have…run out into traffic chasing after a bunch of goats.” When Seungcheol lets out another agonized groan, Joshua quickly continues, “But don’t worry too much, Seungcheol. Jeonghan is doing his best to get the two of them out. I’ll call you if there’s any new developments, alright?”

Jeonghan’s muffled spluttering of: “The bail is how much?” lets Seungcheol know just how effective the blonde journalist is in wrangling for Seokmin and Soonyoung’s freedom. Muttering out a weak, “Okay”, Seungcheol listens to Joshua’s soothing voice for a few more minutes before bidding the other goodbye. The moment he ends the call, Chan’s still-sleepy voice sounds from the back.

“What’s going on, hyung? Is Joshua-hyung okay?”

Rubbing two hands over his tired face, Seungcheol says, “No one’s hurt, but Soonyoung and Seokmin are both in jail right now. Joshua and Jeonghan are doing their best to get them out and get the charges dropped.”

“Charges?” Hansol pipes up, sharing a worried look with Chan through the rearview mirror. “What happened?”

“Apparently they ran out onto the highway while chasing after a bunch of goats. They caused a lot of traffic or something.”

Chan’s muttered “Of course they did” overlaps with Hansol’s “Why doesn’t this surprise me?”, and Seungcheol shakes his head before adding, “Forget about it. Joshua said he’d keep me posted, and there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just get to the farm, drop off these goats, and we’ll go from there.”

“Good plan,” Hansol nods and his eyes drift back to the road.

A vaguely peaceful silence settles over the car as its six occupants (three of the human-variety and the rest of the goat-variety) remain lost in their thoughts. After a few moments, however, Chan leans forward and asks: “Wait…why are we heading east? Sungmin-ssi’s farm is located in the opposite direction.”

“What?” Hansol asks, and Seungcheol’s head whips frantically from the GPS towards their confused-looking photographer. “I put in the address you gave me, though.”

Leaning forward even further, Chan presses a few buttons on the GPS. With furrowed brows, the youngest of the three announces gravely, “Hansol-hyung. You typed in the address wrong.”

“What?” Hansol asks again while Seungcheol moans out a broken, “No.”

“Yep.” Pressing a few more buttons, Chan leans back as the GPS suddenly reroutes itself to the proper direction. “We are now six and a half hours away from the farm.”

“Noooooooo,” Seungcheol weeps.


-x-


“What happened to your pants, Mingyu-ah?” is the first thing that comes out of Junhui’s mouth when Mingyu and Minghao disembark the latter’s SUV while shooing out four goats.

“Goat shit,” Minghao answers at the same time Mingyu half-accusingly says: “Someone forced me to be the buffer between Little Mingyu’s bottom and the car floor.”

Rounding around, Minghao lightly jabs at Mingyu’s chest. “You know what my Mercedes means to me, Mingyu.”

“I had goat poop on my thighs for two and a half hours, Minghao. It was warm, and disgusting, and then it became cold and hard and even more disgusting. You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minghao says with a careless flap of his arm.

Junhui giggles in gentle amusement. “Sounds like the two of you had an exciting trip.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Minghao says with a light sigh before offering the elder a soft smile. “Did anyone else get here yet, hyung?”

“Umm, well, Seungcheol-hyung just texted me a bit ago, saying that they’re going to be about six hours late. And Jeonghan-hyung called an hour ago to let us know that Soonyoung and Seokmin are now getting processed to leave jail, so…yeah.” Giving a small shrug, Junhui smiles at Minghao and Mingyu’s bewildered and gaping faces. “We’re the only ones here.”

Before the two younger men can toss out the questions hanging at the tip of their tongues, Wonwoo’s voice calls out, “Oh, you guys made it.”

“Wonwoo-hyung!” Mingyu immediately spins to face the other, and offers the elder a beaming smile. Wonwoo only offers up a half-hearted smile in response after reaching the three men, and his eyes flicker to everything but Mingyu.

“How was the drive?” Wonwoo asks, clearly directing the question to Minghao. The younger Chinese man shuffles a bit uncomfortably, feeling his taller friend almost wilt at being brushed off.

“It was alright, nothing too special.” Clearing his throat a bit, Minghao hastily adds, “A goat pooped all over Mingyu.” Ignoring the way Mingyu pushes at his shoulder in embarrassment, Minghao smiles and finishes off with a: “That was about as exciting as it got.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo pulls at the sleeves of his brown sweater before smiling stiffly at Mingyu’s chest area. “I’m sure Sungmin-ssi will be more than happy to let you use his bathroom to freshen up. Meanwhile, I can take the goats around the back. Sungmin-ssi has a pen set up for them there.”

“I’ll go with you, hyung!” Mingyu offers up immediately.

Coming to a halt, Wonwoo swallows deeply before shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. You should go and…clean up. It’s…probably not good to leave goat poop caked onto your pants.”

“It’s honestly fine, hyung. It’ll be hard herding four goats anyways. I’m happy to help.”

“I can take Minghao,” Wonwoo counteroffers, but Minghao immediately shakes his head.

“I think I’m going to stay with my Mercedes and make sure it’s not scratched up or anything.” Shooting Mingyu a sharp look, Minghao meanders back towards his car.

Turning back towards Wonwoo, Mingyu offers the shorter man a hopeful smile. “It’s honestly no trouble, hyung.”

Mingyu watches as Wonwoo takes a few shaky breaths before the bespectacled man furtively meets Junhui’s conflicted gaze. The moment their eyes meet, Junhui jumps into action and wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s shoulders.

“I agree with Wonwoo, Mingyu,” Junhui says with an uncomfortable grin. “You really should clean up. I’ll go with Wonwoo; I’m already familiar with the layout and everything too. Go clean up, okay?” Bending down to scoop Little Chan into his arms, Junhui doesn’t give Mingyu any time to respond before he’s turning around and efficiently herding both the goats and Wonwoo away.

Mingyu watches them rush off, not noticing Minghao creeping up beside him until the Chinese man is stating, “Wonwoo-hyung’s definitely avoiding you.”

“He’s avoiding me!” Mingyu explodes in furious agreement.

“Junhui’s in on it too,” Minghao relents.

“You have to help me,” Mingyu cries before grabbing onto the front of Minghao’s shirt.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Minghao sighs while gently patting at Mingyu’s back. There’s a moment of suspended silence as the taller quietly contemplates.

“Distract Junnie-hyung for me,” Mingyu finally says while pushing away from Minghao. The shorter of the two raises a questioning eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. At the vague signs of disapproval, Mingyu quickly adds: “Just for a bit. I need to talk to Wonwoo-hyung and figure out what I did wrong. But I can’t do that with Junnie-hyung popping in and dragging him away whenever I so much as breathe in his direction.”

“Well maybe if you stopped breathing like you’re trying to inhale Wonwoo-hyung into your nostrils—” Minghao breaks off when Mingyu slaps at his arm. “Hey! Watch it! Okay, fine. I’ll help you. But how do you expect me to distract Junhui-hyung?”

“Oh please,” Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Junnie-hyung’s always distracted by you. You’ll find a way.”

“Shut up,” Minghao mutters before quickly turning around and stomping back towards his car. Mingyu’s soft cackling lets him know he was too slow to hide his blush, though.


-x-


It’s a bit past four in the afternoon when Joshua, Jeonghan, Soonyoung, and Seokmin finally leave the police station with their brood of goats.

“Thanks for getting us out, hyung,” Seokmin says abashedly, and Jeonghan rolls his eyes before gently patting the younger’s head.

“Like we were just going to leave you there,” he says with a scoff. “Prison changes people, and I kind of like my dongsaengs just the way they are.”

“Aww, hyung,” Soonyoung smiles happily at the blonde journalist while bouncing Soonseok in his arms. “That’s sweet.”

“Yes,” Jeonghan agrees amiably enough before his face contorts into a more serious expression and he stalks forward towards the two younger men ferociously. “But if I ever catch you kids running into traffic again, so help me, I will make your lives hell. Do you understand?”

Gulping, Seokmin and Soonyoung share a fearful look before they answer in a perfect, Pavlovian-induced manner, “Yes, hyung.”

The terrifying expression melts away from Jeonghan’s face, and the blonde journalist smiles sweetly before reaching out and patting at the two younger men’s heads. “There’s my good dongsaengs.”

Shaking his head at the familiar scene, Joshua asks, “But are you guys honestly okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, hyung,” Soonyoung says easily. “Jail honestly wasn’t that bad.”

“I mean, there was an eighty-year-old lady in there for public nudity. She ended up flashing us, so that was kind of scary,” Seokmin adds with a shudder. “But other than that, it was pretty good.”

“We also got to spend a few extra hours with Soonseok, so there’s that,” Soonyoung continues, and Soonseok bleats out a happy “baba”, as if in agreement.

Huffing out a breath of laughter, Joshua watches as Seokmin and Soonyoung proceed to coo over the goat. Looking to his side, he can see Jeonghan shooting the two younger men an equally fond look, and if Joshua and Jeonghan both dawdle a bit on their journey towards Sungmin-ssi’s farm, well…no one has to know.


-x-


“Well, looks like everyone made it,” Seungcheol says while checking Joshua’s text. “Everyone, except for us.”

“We’re making good time, though,” Chan adds comfortingly from the back. “Just another hour or so, and we’ll be there.”

“Traffic’s been pretty good too,” Hansol pipes up helpfully with an easygoing grin despite the dark bags clouding the bottom of his eyes.

“Exactly,” Chan smiles encouragingly at the back of Hansol’s head. “Can you imagine how long it would have taken us if there had been traffic? Thank god Soonyoung-hyung and Seokmin-hyung decided to block up half the roads during the afternoon.”

“We still have to drive back…” Seungcheol says, breaking the optimistic bubble the two younger men were in the process of weaving together.

There’s a pause before Hansol hesitantly suggests, “Yes…but maybe we can just find a hotel nearby, stay the night, and then drive back tomorrow?”

“We haven’t packed any toothbrushes, or extra clothes,” Seungcheol protests half-heartedly, though his heavy eyes seem to agree with the plan.

“Come on, hyung,” Chan says. “Hansol-hyung is probably really tired. We all need a break. Tomorrow’s Sunday, anyway, so it’s not like we’ll be missing work. Come on, hyung.”

“Yeah, come on, hyung,” Hansol parrots.

“Look,” Chan lifts Little Seungkwan up and the goat bleats loudly. “Little Seungkwan thinks we deserve a break too, don’t you?” The goat bleats once more, and Chan smiles sweetly at Seungcheol through the rearview mirror. “Come on, Seungcheol-hyung. How can you deny Little Seungkwan?”

Sighing, Seungcheol shoots Chan a fondly exasperated smile before relenting with a small, “Fine.”

Hansol, Chan, and the three remaining goats break out into a cacophony of happy cheers and random bleating just as Dragostea Din Tei fills the car.

Rolling his eyes, Seungcheol trains his eyes out the window where small flickering stars are beginning to make their appearance in the dusky sky, and thinks, This isn’t the most awful way to spend a Saturday evening.

Chapter Text

“Yeah,” the contractor turns to Seungcheol with a mixture of unimpressed befuddlement painted on his face as he rises from where he had been crouched low, inspecting the hole in the wall. “So the wires connected to your light fixtures have been completely cut through. You’re going to need to get that fixed. Of course, you’re going to need to get your drywall restored as well, but that shouldn’t be a surprise to you, right?”

“No,” Seungcheol shakes his head.

“The wiring and drywall is an easy fix,” the contractor reassures the tired-looking head editor with a wry grin before completely demolishing the sense of security he had been briefly building by adding an ominous, “Of course, it’s not your walls or lights I’m worried about, though.”

“…it’s not?” Seungcheol asks slowly, and the contractor clicks his tongue sympathetically with a shake of his head.

“Nope. As I said, wires and plastered walls – piece of cake. The real problem, however, is the black mold that’s forming in your drywalls.”

Blinking, Seungcheol repeats slowly: “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘black mold’?”

“Yep,” the contractor replies with a pop on the ‘p’. “It’s a significant amount too; you’re going to need to hire a professional to take care of this mess.”

Breathing in deeply through the nose, Seungcheol closes his eyes tightly before opening them back up to face the horrendous, dark reality currently lurking in his office walls. “Isn’t black mold poisonous?”

“Not all black mold; some are barely toxic.” the contractor reassures Seungcheol, who stupidly begins to relax before said contractor characteristically destroys said reassurance in one fell swoop. “The mold in your walls, however, yeah I’d say it’s pretty, pretty toxic. You’re going to want to clear out of here until you get it fixed. If it’s toxic enough, black mold can cause serious allergic reactions and asthma. It’s not a pretty sight.”

Seungcheol releases something close to a whimper, but the contractor is quick to alleviate some of his concerns with a cheerful, “But mold removal isn’t that difficult; you’ll get your office back in no time and in perfect condition. Don’t be so worried.”

Seungcheol remains tense, waiting for the contractor to inevitably crush his own uplifting words with more discouraging news.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Of course, with this much mold accumulating in your walls, you’re probably going to have to cough up a good eight-thousand dollars, which is quite a lot of cash, but hey. Toxic mold and all that, am I right or am I—?”




“—so that’s what’s happening,” Seungcheol finishes weakly from where he’s standing at the front of their little conference room.

There’s a beat of silence before Soonyoung says: “Wow. That contractor was a bit of a downer, huh?”

“No wonder I’ve been feeling a little bit closer to death every day I have to work here,” Jihoon mutters.

“Because the black mold is to blame,” Seungcheol mutters back while giving every occupant in the room the stink-eye, and Jihoon rolls his eyes before tilting his head in a small gesture of mutual pain, understanding and camaraderie.

“Hey, jackass-ssi, did you hear?” Seungkwan calls out loudly, and Hansol turns to face the other with an odd mix of resignation and gentle amusement swimming in his eyes. “Potentially hazardous stuff happening here. I think this is the cue for you to quit.”

“No thanks,” Hansol replies, quite politely. “But maybe you should think about taking a break or something? Possible death-inducing mold happening here and all that.”

“Are we going to die?” Seokmin asks while Seungkwan explodes with a passionate yell of: “Listen up you jackass. I was here first, if anyone is leaving this godforsaken building, it’s you!”

“Of course we’re not going to die,” Wonwoo responds while Junhui pulls Seungkwan down from where the younger man had apparently been prepared to climb on top of his table in order to make his enraged point heard. When Seokmin turns to face the bespectacled editor, Wonwoo continues: “At most, black mold has been associated with skin inflammation, running noses, nosebleeds, cold and flu symptoms, as well as rashes.” He pauses with a contemplative look on his face before concluding with a vaguely ominous: “I think it can also cause pathological respiratory changes, but I’m not too sure of that one.”

When Seokmin’s face pales considerably at Wonwoo’s words, Jeonghan leans forward with a quiet reprimand of: “Not helpful, Wonwoo-ah.”

“I said I wasn’t sure,” Wonwoo defends himself, but Jeonghan just clucks his tongue at him.

“Okay, everyone, relax,” Seungcheol calls out, and the small titters filling up the room quickly hushes out. “Seungkwan, sit down. Nobody’s quitting. At least not without a proper written notice two weeks in advance.” When Jihoon and Jeonghan both shoot him unimpressed looks, Seungcheol raises his hands up in surrender and says, “You guys pay union fees! I could get sacked if I force you guys to stay.” Jihoon opens his mouth, and Seungcheol is quick to say “we had a deal” before continuing. “Look, I have a lunch meeting with the CEO tomorrow, I’ll let him know what’s going on and ask him to increase our funding in order to fix this mold issue and get our lights running again. It’ll all work out, so don’t worry.”

“Good luck, Cheolie,” Jeonghan waves his fingers in a winning combination of mocking and affectionate.  

“You’re coming with me,” Seungcheol says with resignation. Jeonghan only smirks knowingly when Seungcheol adds, “It’s time to put your dastardly abilities to good use, Jeonghan.”

“Now is that any way to talk to the master of your life?”

“You’re never getting a raise ever again,” Seungcheol says dryly before turning away from Jeonghan’s spluttering to Joshua. “Joshua, you’re coming as well. I need you to stop the two of us from mauling each other’s eyes out in front of the CEO.”

“Honestly, Seungcheol,” Joshua groans in disapproval. “What’s wrong with the two of you?”

“Yeah, Cheolie,” Jeonghan sing-songs while tossing an arm around Joshua’s shoulders. “I would never maul you. I am above mauling. I am a man of elaborate tricks and pranks; you can maul, but just know, every violent move you make only gets you more entangled in my web of vengeance. I will defeat you, Cheolie, and when I do, I shall savour every moment of my sweet victory. I will slowly sip on your salty tears and munch on your bitter words; soon you will understand my pain of missing out on Taeyang’s abs!”

Joshua throws Jeonghan’s arm off of his shoulders.

“Wow,” Mingyu whistles lowly while Seungkwan says, “That was some monologue, hyung.”

“I did a minor in theatre,” Jeonghan answers blithely with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Drama queen,” Seungcheol says.

“Bow down to me, pleb,” Jeonghan responds in turn.

“So if you, Jeonghan-hyung, and Joshua-hyung are all going to be gone,” Chan cuts in and everyone turns to face him, “who’s going to be in charge?”

There’s a pause as Seungcheol contemplates his options before saying decisively, “Wonwoo’s in charge while we’re gone.”

“What? Noooo,” Soonyoung complains loudly. “Wonwoo’s such a dictator. We’re doomed.”

“Hush you giant baby,” Wonwoo says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m a very reasonable man. It’s not like I’m going to make you clean my car or something. Even though it’s a little bit filthy from the goats and you’re the one who brought them here in the first place. But – as I said – I’m reasonable and you won’t have to wash my car.”

Mingyu whistles lowly again and Minghao stifles a huff of laughter in the crook of his arm.

“How many sick days do I have left?” Jihoon pipes up.

“No, Jihoon,” Seungcheol says simply.

“Damnit,” Jihoon mutters.

“Wait,” Chan says slowly. “If the black mold is so toxic, why are we all still here?”

Seungcheol blinks a bit before smiling hesitantly. “I just thought since we’ve been inhaling the moldy fumes for so long anyway, another few days won’t hurt any?”

There’s another pause before Jihoon groans loudly. “Damnit, hyung!”


-x-


“Come in,” Seungcheol calls out when two curt knocks sound on his door. When Jihoon shuffles into his office, Seungcheol smiles briefly and offers up two different ties – one a smooth shade of maroon and the other a jaunty coral blue – for inspection.

“Which one?” He asks, and Jihoon rolls his eyes but gives each article a critical once-over before tilting his head towards the former.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too,” Seungcheol mutters before stuffing the blue tie back into his backpack and wrapping the maroon one around his neck. “Ah, sorry. Did you need something, Jihoonie?”

“Not really,” Jihoon shrugs one shoulder before plopping down on the seat opposite his boss. “Just thought I’d stop by to give you your obligatory guilt-fest for abandoning me.” While his tone is fairly nonchalant, his lips are pressed in a semi-faux tense line, and Seungcheol offers the younger man a vaguely abashed smile in response.

“I’m sorry, but we really need the funding. Besides, this lunch has already been planned for ages. I can’t skip out on Seongsu-ssi.”

“I get it, it’s just…this is a two-way street, you know? You just blackmailed me into staying here because apparently I’m the only one that keeps you sane. Well, it’s the same for me too, alright?” Shuffling a bit in uncomfortable embarrassment, Jihoon hastily adds: “What if you leave and suddenly Soonyoung brings in a panda or something? I’m not good at handling situations like that.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol starts, “first of all, there’s no way Soonyoung can manage to get a panda in here. Don’t even mention it either; you’ll give him ideas. Secondly: if he somehow does manage to get a panda in here, make sure to take pictures for me, alright?” Jihoon shoots Seungcheol an unimpressed glare and the older man releases a quiet huff of laughter before continuing. “Thirdly: nothing’s going to happen. Think about it, I’m already taking Jeonghan with me so that’s already eighty-seven percent of the evil and chaos that will be evacuated from here. You can handle the other thirteen percent, can’t you?”

“You’re more tired than I thought you were if you think Soonyoung and Seokmin comprise of only thirteen percent of the shit that happens here, hyung,” Jihoon says. “Also, you have to be stupid on top of exhausted if you think I’m going to voluntarily handle anything that may possibly come up today.”

“Fair enough,” Seungcheol leans back with an easy grin. Waving his hand about a bit, he announces grandly while putting on his best emperor voice, “I now grant you full permission to hide out in your office for the rest of the day and ignore everything that occurs outside of your realm, Lee Jihoon-ssi.”

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon smirks a bit before saying, “Don’t think this means you can get out of buying me coffee today, hyung.”

Seungcheol smiles and takes out a five.


-x-


“Hello, boss-man,” Soonyoung says sarcastically with an equally sardonic salute as he enters Wonwoo’s office. Wonwoo looks up in time just to see Seokmin playfully pinch at the fat in Soonyoung’s side, and the elder of the two jolts a bit with a high-pitched squeak.

“Can I help you, underling?” Wonwoo answers in kind just as Soonyoung swats at Seokmin’s shoulder with a playful pout.

“Yeah,” Seokmin replies while twining his fingers with Soonyoung’s to stop the elder’s attack. “We just thought we’d run by our articles for tomorrow with you.”

Nodding his head in acknowledgement, Wonwoo watches as Seokmin and Soonyoung plop onto the seats opposite him.

“Is it alright if our articles are a bit similar?” Seokmin asks while Soonyoung is quick to follow it up with a quick, “We didn’t really plan for it, it just kind of happened.”

Shrugging easily, Wonwoo asks, “What are your articles on?”

“I guess it’s really just thematically similar,” Soonyoung begins before gesturing to himself, “but I want to write on the capitalism of weddings and Seokmin wants to…actually, what was it you wanted to write about?”

“Hurtful,” Seokmin clucks his tongue in faux-disappointment at his friend, who gives the younger another pout – this one more apologetic in nature – before reaching out to run nimble fingers through the dark strands of the other’s hair. Wonwoo quietly congratulates himself on barely batting an eye at this blatant public display of affection while listening to what Seokmin is saying. “I want to write on the steadily increasing divorce rates over the past two decades.”

“Yeah, see, what a depressing topic. No one’s going to read that,” Soonyoung teases while still smoothing down Seokmin’s hair.

“You’re just bitter because I thought of it first,” Seokmin responds in equal kind, and Soonyoung sniffs before turning around and pushing his nose in the air.

“I’m going to win this bet, Seokmin, so you better get your wallet ready, because I am one expensive date.”

“I’m actually a bit scared. I mean, I saw the way you inhaled all that pizza last week, hyung,” Seokmin says thoughtfully, before breaking into gleeful laughter as Soonyoung proceeds to poke him in the tummy.

Huffing a bit, Soonyoung turns back to Wonwoo. “So are our topics alright?”

Looking down at his computer’s keyboard, Wonwoo mutters, “Both marriage-themed, huh?”

“Well don’t sound too enthusiastic now, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says, while Seokmin pipes up with a curious, “Not a big fan of marriage, hyung?”

“No,” Wonwoo looks up with a wan smile. “No, they’re fine. Marriage is a perfectly fine institution.”

“Well, to be fair, neither of us are really going to be romanticizing marriages,” Seokmin offers. “I think we’re actually going to be talking about the more negative sides of weddings and marriages.”

“Weddings and marriages are both good,” Wonwoo insists with an even weaker smile than before, and Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows in slight concern while Seokmin only smiles brightly, attempting to put this conversation behind them as he can tell how uncomfortable the editor really is.

“Great, so they have your approval?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo nods. “I look forward to reading them.”

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung begins, the furrow between his brows deeper than ever. “Are you—?”

Just then, a knock sounds and the three look up to see Mingyu standing in the open doorway of Wonwoo’s office. His hand is resting on the door, and the tall man offers everyone an apologetic smile. “Sorry for interrupting, but can I please speak to you for a moment, Wonwoo-hyung?”

Wonwoo gulps and his eyes flicker back down to his hands. “No, I’m sorry Mingyu, but I’m talking to Seokmin and Soonyoung right now.”

“It’s fine,” Seokmin insists with an easy smile. “I think we’re done anyway, so—”

“No, we’re not,” Wonwoo replies with dark eyes.  

The mounting tension in the room is broken by a sudden shattering and crashing that seems to be coming from the breakroom. Thundering footsteps sound, and Junhui pops up right behind Mingyu’s shoulder with a tense smile.

“Mingyu-ah! Just the man I wanted to see,” Junhui says with blatantly forced nonchalance. “I just accidentally knocked down one of the shelves in the fridge and a lot of things fell down and broke and there’s a big mess now. Can you please come and help me clean up?”

Smiling stiffly at the Chinese man but refusing to move from where he’s looming in Wonwoo’s doorway, Mingyu raises his voice and pointedly calls out, “Minghao can help you out, Junnie-hyung.”

The sound of a chair being pushed back echoes down from the main office area, and a series of brisk footsteps soon follow. After a few moments, Minghao appears beside Junhui.

“I can help you clean, hyung,” Minghao obediently says while tugging insistently at the ends of Junhui’s sweater sleeve. His eyes, however, are trained insistently on Mingyu.

“Oh, no, it’s alright HaoHao,” Junhui is quick to reassure the younger with a sweet smile. “I don’t want to inconvenience you. I’m sure Mingyu is more than happy to help me out.”

“I need to talk to Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu insists forcefully. “I’ll help you out later, okay, Junnie-hyung?”

“As I’ve already said: I’m busy talking to Soonyoung and Seokmin right now,” Wonwoo finally grits out, and everyone freezes at the rare show of animosity lacing through the editor’s voice. Mingyu stiffens a bit in shock before the fight drains out of him and he practically wilts in defeat. Junhui bites his lip in obvious concern and fidgets uncomfortably over Mingyu’s shoulder while Minghao’s frustrated glare flickers back and forth between both Wonwoo and Mingyu.

Sighing heavily, Wonwoo slumps back down into his seat and gives Mingyu an almost guilty look. “I’m sorry, Mingyu. Just…come back later, alright?”

Staring at the floor, Mingyu gives one, curt nod and murmurs a soft: “I’ll help you clean up now, Junnie-hyung” before leaving. Junhui shoots Wonwoo a concerned look before rushing after the taller man with sympathetic worry painted all over his face, and Minghao is quick to follow.

The silence that descends over Wonwoo’s office is strained, and the editor takes off his glasses before rubbing at the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

“So where were we?” He asks quietly. “Oh, right. As I was saying, I’m sure both your articles will turn out great.”

“What was that?” Soonyoung explodes, and though Seokmin winces a bit, his anxious eyes seem to share Soonyoung’s sentiment.

“Weddings and marriages, a truly fantastic topic,” Wonwoo continues despondently. Soonyoung just squints at him.


-x-


“Take off the tie,” Jeonghan says, before reaching over to remove Seungcheol’s maroon tie himself. Across from the blonde journalist, Joshua simply continues flipping through the menu, carefully perusing his options.

“What? No.” Seungcheol splutters in response, batting away Jeonghan’s hands. “Jihoon picked out this tie for me.”

“Look, that’s sweet and all, but we are here to beg the CEO for more money right now. It won’t sell if we look too well off, understand?” Ripping off the strip of silk from around Seungcheol’s neck, Jeonghan begins running his fingers through Seungcheol’s dark hair. “Now let’s muss this up a bit, and we’ll ruffle your shirt like this. Perfect.” Nodding with great satisfaction, Jeonghan leans back in his chair and adds a snarky: “I honestly didn’t think you’d need me to hold your hand and personally guide you on how you should present yourself, Cheolie. I mean, look at Joshua. He gets it.”

Joshua idly flips another page in the menu and dryly responds, “You messed up my hairdo and balled up my clothes before letting me get dressed this morning, Jeonghan.”

“And this is why Joshua’s my favourite,” Jeonghan says, smiling sweetly at the other whose eyes never leave the menu.

“I feel…underdressed,” Seungcheol mutters under his breath. Jeonghan rolls his eyes and swats the other’s hand when the elder makes to fix his disheveled appearance.

“Honestly, Cheolie. You’re the one who wanted my expertise here,” Jeonghan tuts when Seungcheol glares at him while clutching at his reddening hands. “And I am telling you, this will work. Just trust me a little, alright?”

Seungcheol pouts but allows his hair to flop ungracefully in front of his eyes.




“You three look a bit unkempt,” is the first thing their CEO says after sitting down. Joshua simply smiles in neutral agreement while Seungcheol shoots Jeonghan a look of utter trepidation. The blonde journalist, however, simply lowers his eyes in a very convincing expression of utter woe.

“With the little amount of money we have right now, you can’t act too surprised when we can’t put too much into our appearances, Seongsu-ssi.” Jeonghan finishes up with a small little self-deprecatory chuckle, and – to Seungcheol’s utter amazement – he can see their CEO’s eyes slowly softening.

Jeonghan is still most definitely the devil-spawn, but Seungcheol guesses even demons have their uses.


-x-


“Has Seungkwan ever been mad at you?” Hansol asks Chan during their shared lunchbreak. The break room still smells heavily of spilt milk, Dijon mustard, soy sauce, and vinegar despite the thorough scrubbing Junhui, Mingyu, and Minghao had given the area earlier, but the two youngest employees of Pledis Daily have learnt to ignore any unsavoury smells (thank you for the important life experience, you goats) and to just keep on going.

Chan chews on his piece of mackerel thoughtfully before swallowing and shaking his head. “No. At least not to the extent where he’s demanding my resignation every other day.”

“You noticed, huh?” Hansol mutters down to his roast duck, and Chan doesn’t even bother to smother his exasperated scoff.

“That he wants you to retire from living or that he hates you?”

“Retire from living?” Hansol’s nose scrunches up a bit, and Chan flicks a small piece of rice onto his face. Wiping at his face, the photographer sighs heavily before saying, “I mean…I wouldn’t be too surprised if that’s what Seungkwan actually wants.”

“Seungkwan-hyung wouldn’t want you to actually die,” Chan rolls his eyes. “No matter how much he apparently hates you.” When Hansol just hums noncommittally in response, Chan pokes around at his own lunch for a few more moments before carefully hedging a question that had been bothering him for a good few weeks now. “Hansol-hyung, I was wondering – and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to – but what exactly did you do to make Seungkwan-hyung so angry at you?” When Hansol just looks at him, Chan hastens to explain himself. “It’s just…I’ve seen Seungkwan-hyung hold grudges before, but he’s actually pretty easygoing when it comes to arguments. I’ve never seen him so…hurt before, and for so long, and I just…I guess I just got curious. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Hansol-hyung.”

“Hey, no, it’s alright,” Hansol says with a small smile. Reaching out and patting Chan’s back, Hansol gives a light shrug and says: “I don’t blame you for being curious. I mean…I’d get pretty curious too.” Blowing out a deep breath, Hansol closes his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself before blankly opening them again and confessing softly: “It’s nothing really special. Seungkwan and I have been friends since middle school. We were, you know, inseparable. We did everything together; hung out together before school, hung out together at school, hung out together after school. If you wanted to find one of us, you had to find the other. It was pretty ridiculous, now that I’m thinking about it, though it – he – was just a constant that I’ve never stopped to think about before. We…we started dating in high school, and it was all going well, but then university applications came around and I – I decided to go overseas for my studies. I didn’t tell him though, and broke up with him on the phone right before I boarded my plane.” Taking in a shuddery breath, Hansol finishes it off with a hushed, “I haven’t talked to Seungkwan since, well, now.”

A heavy silence blankets the two of them. While Chan’s eyes are trained insistently on his hyung’s, Hansol apparently can’t bring himself to meet the younger’s gaze, and is instead staring down at his rapidly cooling meal. The long quiet is eventually broken by Chan, who can only offer a disbelieving, “Hyung, no.”

“Yeah,” Hansol says while offering the intern a crooked grin. Chan can’t help but note how disquiet the elder’s eyes are, however, and he feels a sharp pang of sympathy rush through him. “I don’t have any excuses, but I’m really kicking myself in the ass now.”

Biting on his bottom lip, Chan mentally runs through various responses he can give before settling on: “Do you regret it, hyung?”

“How can I not?” is Hansol’s answer; blunt and simple and accepting. His smile, however, is unbearably sad, and all Chan can do is quietly hurt with him.


-x-


Shuffling the documents in his arms, Seungkwan knocks on Jihoon’s door briskly. When no response comes, Seungkwan’s eyebrows furrow a bit in confusion, but he knocks once more (this time just a little bit louder). After another long stretch of silence, the blonde journalist hesitantly calls out: “Jihoon-hyung? Are you in there, hyung?”

More silence greets him.

Huffing in confusion, Seungkwan turns around. “Hey, Mingyu-hyung” he calls out to the older man who’s currently crouched on the ground in the apparent process of fumbling blindly around the area of own desk. “Is Jihoon-hyung not here today?”

“Mmm, I’m pretty sure I saw him this morning,” Mingyu answers while disentangling the various colourful wires that make their home under his desk. “I saw him slip into Seungcheol-hyung’s office earlier today.”

“Huh. And you didn’t see him leave early or anything?”

“Nope,” Mingyu says, finally looking up and shooting Seungkwan a genuinely apologetic smile. Before Seungkwan can thank the elder for his help, however, Mingyu proceeds to awkwardly stuff himself under his own desk. The blonde journalist can only watch blankly as his tall hyung (much too tall for whatever this endeavor is to actually work) folds himself up like a pretzel, succeeding after a few, long moments and several painful bangs of various body parts against the wooden surface.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan begins, only after he feels as though he has let the silence stretch out long enough to make a point. “I love you, I really do. But what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mingyu opens his mouth, but Seungkwan is quick to interrupt him before he can even speak with a little waggle of his finger. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts disapprovingly. “Let me also tell you this: if your answer has anything to do with Wonwoo-hyung, I will pour your own cup of coffee down your shirt.”

“I…” Mingyu stutters a bit before gesturing briefly to the right of Seungkwan. “I’m just…playing a game with Minghao.”

Whipping to his side, Seungkwan’s unimpressed eyes meet the equally unimpressed stare of Minghao, who’s peeking from around the corner in some terrible impersonation of every espionage hero to ever come out of Hollywood.

“You got Minghao-hyung in on this too?” Seungkwan slowly turns back around to face Mingyu with pursed lips.

“I’m only taking your advice,” Mingyu defends himself. “This is me, actively refusing to let my life become an Adele song.”

“Oh, hyung,” Seungkwan says with pity painted all over his face. “You’re way past Adele-Town now and quickly going down ‘Every Breath You Take’ Avenue.”

“No I’m not,” the crouching man immediately denies. Before he can continue defending his honour, however, Minghao begins snapping his fingers in rapid succession, and Mingyu quietly yelps before hissing: “Wonwoo-hyung’s coming. Stop loitering in front of Jihoon-hyung’s office, Seungkwan. You look super suspicious.”

“Oh, I look suspicious,” Seungkwan mutters, but obediently begins making his way back to his desk.

The three of them can hear Wonwoo’s muffled footsteps making their way closer and closer to them, but before Mingyu can jump out from under his desk and tackle the shorter editor with a passionate if suffocating embrace (at least, that’s what Seungkwan guesses Mingyu’s plan must be), another set of footfalls come sprinting rapidly behind Wonwoo’s, followed by a thud of impact and a soft huff of laughter from the bespectacled man.

“Wonwoo,” Junhui’s gentle voice sings out, and Seungkwan can see the way a vein begins to violently throb in Mingyu’s temple. “Follow me for a second; I need to show you something really cool, okay? Come on, it’s this way!”

The sound of their footsteps and the affectionate prattling of the two friends’ retreat, and an awkward silence descends over the three men left.

“Do you need help getting out from there?” Seungkwan finally asks. Mingyu’s forehead meets the hardwood floor with a painful thud.


-x-


Despite his earlier failures, Mingyu isn’t one to give up so easily, and as the day draws to a close, his determination to talk to Wonwoo only grows in desperation and in necessity.

Breathing in deeply to prepare himself for what he was about to do, Mingyu throws an eraser at Minghao. The pink rubber hits him on the shoulder, and the Chinese man looks up in utter disbelief. Meeting his eyes, Mingyu shoots his friend a pointed look before waggling his eyebrows meaningfully. Even though the younger of the two looks more confused than comprehending, Mingyu decides to proceed with his half-baked plan anyway (desperation is truly a controlling monster) and lifts up half the contents on the top of his desk before dramatically tossing his miscellaneous collection of important documents and office supplies in Junhui’s general direction.

He can hear the little panicked yelp that the older man releases, the confused cries of the rest of his coworkers, the sound of dozens of sheets of papers rustling through the air as well as the clattering and clanking of various pens, staples, paperclips, and whatever else was previously resting on his desk hitting whatever it reaches, but he doesn’t bother looking back and simply begins sprinting madly towards Wonwoo’s office. Mingyu prays that his distraction tactic is enough to slow down Junhui’s stubborn ass, but if it fails, he has no choice but to place his faith in Minghao’s ability to distract the elder.

“Mingyu!” Junhui practically screeches behind him, but Mingyu just keeps running.

Not bothering to knock, he barges into Wonwoo’s office only to be greeted by an empty room.

“Damnit!” He yells. He can hear Junhui noisily pushing his chair back to run after him in a desperate attempt to prevent him from talking to the editor, so he begins sprinting blindly towards the photocopying room.

“Do your thing, Minghao!” is the only thing Mingyu hastily offers over his shoulder, and Minghao’s uncharacteristically sweet: “Junhui-hyung!” echoes loyally behind him.




Sliding in front of Junhui, Minghao can’t help but think: Mingyu’s absolutely lost it. I knew it was only a matter of time, but what a way to go.

“Minghao,” Junhui smiles quite stiffly at the younger before attempting to maneuver around him. Minghao is quick to continuously sabotage Junhui’s attempts to get past him, however, and after a few moments of static and increasingly frantic shuffling, Junhui lets out a cute, little cry of frustration.

“HaoHao! Please let me pass.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Minghao says, and he truly is a bit apologetic. Junhui looks completely stressed out, but – at the same time – the younger Chinese man had also been lucky enough to score a front row seat to see Mingyu’s slow and gradual breakdown up close and personal, so clearly small prices must be paid for the greater good. “But I can’t let you go after Mingyu.”

“Minghao, please,” Junhui begs while nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I can’t…I can’t let Mingyu do this. Please let me go, Minghao. Please?”

Swallowing thickly, Minghao does his best to stand his ground and remain unmoved by Junhui’s worried face. “I’m sorry, Junhui-hyung.”

With his cheeks slowly puffing out in frustration, Junhui stands motionless for a moment in apparent thought before suddenly making a move to barge past Minghao. Yelping, Minghao quickly wraps his arms around Junhui’s middle as the elder begins slowly shuffling down the hall towards where Mingyu had disappeared off to. In his peripheral vision, Minghao can see Hansol, Seokmin, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Chan all watching the two of them with gaping mouths, and he begins blushing self-consciously.

Gathering his courage, Minghao presses his face against the back of Junhui’s neck and shouts, “Hyung! Junhui-hyung! Please stop. Junhui!” When the elder only continues to slowly stomp along while ignoring the man wrapped around his back, Minghao gulps down his trepidation and decides to say his piece anyway: “I’ll go out on a date with you!”

That stops the black-haired columnist in his tracks. There’s a pause before Junhui hesitantly asks, “You’ll…you’ll give me a chance?”

“I’ll go out with you if you let Mingyu talk to Wonwoo-hyung.”

There’s another lull of silence – this one a bit longer and a bit more somber somehow – before Junhui’s hands gently pry Minghao’s arms from around his waist. Once they’re disentangled, Junhui slowly turns around to face the younger, and Minghao immediately knows he messed up.

The elder’s pretty eyes are a bit glassy, and though he’s smiling his usual pretty smile, it’s wrong somehow; the curve of his lips is just a bit too sad, and the ruddiness in his cheeks is just a little too blotchy.

“Junhui?” Minghao whispers quietly. He reaches out with careful fingers and the way Junhui shies away from his touch hurts.

“I don’t want this,” Junhui confesses and Minghao’s hand drops lifelessly back down to his side as something close to heartbreak spreads its way slowly through his chest. “I don’t…I don’t want you to be with me for any other reason than because you…than because you care about me, and like me, and because you want to spend time with me.” Junhui’s eyes drop down to the floor, and he gives a small shrug, laughing a bit hopelessly before continuing. “I really…I really care about you, Minghao. So please, please don’t raise my hopes up. Don’t tell me you’ll give me a chance if you don’t really want it, if you don’t really want me. I don’t…I don’t think I can handle that.”

Minghao takes in the defeated slopes of Junhui’s face and at the devastating way the elder is curling into himself, as if making himself smaller will better protect him from life’s heartaches. It’s not hard to come to a decision then – the only real answer had been waiting beside Minghao for years. In the end, taking that leap of faith is pretty easy.

Walking forward, Minghao wraps Junhui up in a hug. He valiantly ignores the way the older man stiffens and confesses into the curve of the other’s shoulder: “I care about you, I like you, and I want to be with you. Will you please give me a chance and go out with me, Junhui?”

The breath Junhui releases is shaky and disbelieving. “You want to be with me?”

Pulling back so he can properly look at Junhui’s face, Minghao answers truthfully: “I want to be with you.”

“Even if I won’t let Mingyu talk to Wonwoo?”

“Especially if you won’t let Mingyu talk to Wonwoo-hyung.”

The smile that blossoms on Junhui’s face is a beautiful one; it reminds Minghao of the morning sun slowly breaking through the misty horizon – beams of reds and oranges and yellows slowly unfurling to brighten up the world and to make everything seem less scary. He can’t help himself and leans in to press his lips against Junhui’s in a first kiss that is a bit awkward, uncoordinated, clumsy, and yet perfect all the same.

They stand there in a chaste but affectionate embrace for a few moments before Junhui suddenly pushes Minghao away. Not suspecting such violence, Minghao slams into the wall opposite. Blinking in a state of disorientation, Minghao can only watch as Junhui flushes and sends him an apologetic smile before rushing down the hallway after Mingyu.

“I’m sorry, HaoHao. You’re a fantastic kisser, and we’ll go out later tonight, okay?” Junhui calls over his shoulder.

Staring after Junhui’s retreating back, Minghao can’t even bring himself to feel betrayed or angry or even embarrassed. Rather, he knows he’s probably smiling dopily, but if there is ever a moment where one can be forgiven for looking like a fool, this is probably it.

Behind him, Soonyoung slips Seokmin a twenty with a faux-pout. His eyes, however, sparkle with impish glee as he looks at the silly smile painted on Minghao's face.


-x-


Jihoon is doing a great job of pretending the world outside his office door doesn’t exist when a war-like cry cuts through the soothing music coming from his headphones and breaks the blissful reverie he has created for himself. He debates cranking up his music in response to such an unwanted interruption, when a shrill scream sounds from the hallway. The small amount of decency Jihoon still possesses forces him to jump out of his chair and rush across the room. Practically ripping the door from its hinges, he stares down at the two tangled bodies lying on the floor.

Junhui is flopped on top of Mingyu in an oddly intimate tableau, though the way Mingyu’s head is lifelessly lolling about and the grimace Junhui is sporting effectively destroys that affectionate image. Dropping down to his knees next to the two, Jihoon carefully drags Junhui’s limp body off of Mingyu.

“What happened?” Jihoon demands while checking the two for any obvious injuries. Mingyu’s pupils are a bit too big, and his left arm is already becoming a mottled purple mess. Junhui, meanwhile, most definitely has a sprained ankle and possibly a sprained wrist as well. “What, are you guys wrestling in the office now? The toxic black mold isn’t enough of a thrill for the two of you so you’re physically brawling it out as well?”

Junhui whimpers a bit, and Jihoon sighs, running a soothing hand over his hair.

“Did you just tackle Mingyu?” Soonyoung calls out incredulously as he rounds the corner.

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan, right at Soonyoung’s heels, quickly whips out his cellphone to call for an ambulance.

“I don’t know,” Junhui sniffles a bit. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry, Mingyu-ah.”

“I think I broke something,” Mingyu says. Everyone looks down at Mingyu’s rapidly bruising arm and winces. Dropping down beside Mingyu, Minghao reaches out and holds his (good arm’s) hand.

“Don’t fall asleep, okay, Mingyu?” Jihoon says, reaching out and patting at the taller man’s cheeks. “You probably have a concussion, so it’s not a good idea to go unconscious right now, got it?”

Grumbling a bit, Mingyu mutters: “I can’t believe you tackled me, hyung.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, promise!”

“I’ll be honest: I didn’t even know Junnie had it in him,” Soonyoung says, cracking a small smile, and small titters of exasperated laughter fills the hallway.

“Remind me to never get on Jun-hyung’s bad side,” Hansol adds, and Chan releases a peal of spluttering giggles in response.

“I told you, I didn’t mean to—ah!” Whimpering a bit more, Junhui curls one arm around his chest area. “Ow. My ribs hurt.”

“This is why you shouldn’t tackle someone, hyung.” Mingyu’s words are starting to slur together, and Minghao immediately pinches at the skin on the older man’s neck. Jolting a bit, Mingyu glares half-heartedly at the Chinese journalist, but a bit of lucidity floods back into his eyes.  

“The ambulance is coming now,” Seungkwan announces, appearing beside Seokmin with worry painted all over his face. Seeing Jihoon, the blonde journalist does a double-take. "You were here all along, hyung?"

Jihoon just flaps his hand carelessly in response and Seungkwan visibly swallows down his incredulous spluttering.

The semi-tense atmosphere that descends over the group is broken by the ding! of the elevator at that moment, and Wonwoo emerges. Glancing at the dramatic scene of seven of his coworkers gathered around the fallen bodies of Mingyu and Junhui, Wonwoo stops dead in his tracks.

“…I guess Seungcheol-hyung is never going to leave me in charge again.”


-x-


“You guys should have said something sooner,” their CEO is saying to the three of them. His sympathetic eyes, however, are trained only onto Jeonghan, who’s smiling sweetly and gratefully with slightly misty eyes for maximum effect. Seungcheol simply takes another bite out of his chocolate decadent lava cake and shares a look with Joshua.

“Oh, it wouldn’t have felt right, taking advantage of your hospitality, Seongsu-ssi,” Jeonghan demurs with a gentle tilt of his head. “It’s only because the black mold is so toxic that we feel like we have to ask you for help.”

“Well,” Seongsu-ssi says while signing off on his cheque. “Please don’t ever hesitate to ask in the future, Jeonghan-ssi. I would be more than happy to lend you my support.”

Jeonghan is in the process of thanking their CEO when Seungcheol’s phone begins buzzing insistently in his pocket. Flashing his boss an apologetic smile (not that he’s looking in Seungcheol’s direction anyway), Seungcheol answers the phone with a noncommittal, “Yes?”

“Hyung,” Chan’s voice starts on the other end of the line, “Don’t be alarmed—”

“I’m already alarmed,” Seungcheol interrupts the young intern with a tired sigh and a rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“Well please relax a little, Seungcheol-hyung,” Chan lightly admonishes him. “It’s not good to hold yourself so stiffly all the time.”

“Did you need something, Chan? I’m still at the meeting with Seongsu-ssi.”

“I just thought you’d like to know that everyone’s completed and submitted their articles. They just need your approval when you get back to the office.”

“Okay, thank you, Chan. Is there anything else?”

“Oh, also!” Chan pipes up as if he’s just remembered something inconsequential at the very last moment. “We’re all at the hospital right now.” Seungcheol makes a vague choking noise, and Chan is quick to continue: “Don’t worry, hyung. Mingyu-hyung and Jun-hyung were just messing around and got a little bit banged up. It’s nothing big, so please, just focus on your meeting, get that money, and go back to the office and approve tomorrow’s articles. I’ll call you if something happens, okay, hyung?”

Seungcheol makes another wheezing kind-of noise before hanging up. His eyes meet Joshua’s concerned ones, and he mimes strangling himself.

Joshua’s eyes remain slightly disturbed for the rest of the meeting.


-x-


“I can’t believe I ruined our date night,” Junhui murmurs, sliding around a bit in the bed, attempting to fix his itchy, uncomfortable, flimsy hospital gown.

Taking pity on his tangled state, Minghao gently pushes Junhui down before smoothing out the crinkled fabric of the elder’s gown. Running his hands up and down the other’s chest, Minghao mutters: “I can’t believe you tackled Mingyu.” When Junhui just flushes shamefully, Minghao adds a serious, “It was reckless and dangerous, Junhui. Don’t ever do it again, got it?”

Junhui nods with a guilty expression painted all over his face. “I’m sorry.”

Leaning back on his chair, Minghao takes one of Junhui’s hands in his own. “I just don’t want to see you or Mingyu get hurt,” he says while offering Junhui a small smile. Junhui smiles sweetly in return, and simply says: “I know.”

They sit together in companionable silence for a moment before Junhui asks, “Minghao, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you liked me?”

Minghao takes in the way Junhui’s ears slowly gains an endearing blotchy pink colour at the very tips, before truthfully answering: “Years.”

Junhui’s eyes meet Minghao’s, and there’s astonishment reflected in them. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then…then why did you keep rejecting me?”

“Junhui,” Minghao squeezes Junhui’s hand softly before confessing: “You’re one of my closest friends, Junhui. I like you and I love you and I want to be with you, and that terrifies me. What if we begin dating, but we break up and start…avoiding each other like two idiots?” Smiling at the way Junhui releases a peal of guiltily delighted giggles, Minghao somehow finds that it’s not as scary as he had once thought it’d be, opening up to someone. “I care about you too much to lose you, Junhui. I’d rather only have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

Biting on his bottom lip, Junhui nods slowly. “What changed your mind then?”

“Seeing how loyal you are to Wonwoo-hyung.” When Junhui only purses his lips in confusion, Minghao does his best to elaborate. “You’re…a really good friend, hyung. And seeing how loyal you are just made me certain that…that you wouldn’t just…abandon me if we didn’t work out as a couple. You’re one of my best friends, Junhui. Losing you as a…as a partner would hurt, yeah. But losing you as a friend…” Minghao trails off; the very thought of it hurts him like nothing ever had before. “It would destroy me.”

“Minghao,” Junhui scoots up from where he had been leaning back against the fluffy hospital pillows and draws the younger man into a loose but comforting hug. Minghao allows this, even leaning his head carefully against Junhui’s shoulder. The older man gently strokes the other’s back, carefully going through his thoughts, before finally saying: “I’ve loved you for years, HaoHao. I loved you when we were just friends, and I’ll continue loving you even if this – we – don’t work out. You’re my friend; above all else, you’re my friend, and I care about you. And I’ll continue caring about you even if you think I’m a horrible kisser and don’t want to date me anymore.”

Chuckling into the slope of Junhui’s shoulder, Minghao pushes himself back and shakes his head in gentle amusement at the elder’s antics.

“You’re ridiculous, hyung.”

“I know.”

“I think I’m going to go downstairs,” Minghao says, laughing lightly at the look of confusion settling on Junhui's face. “I’m going to go to the Starbucks. I’m going to get the two of us some coffee and pastries, and we can have our first date here. How does that sound?”

“Is it your turn to get coffee now?” Junhui asks in wry amusement, and Minghao chuckles.

“Seems only fair.” Getting up from the hospital chair, Minghao begins heading to the door. “Chai tea latte with hazelnut milk, right?”

Nodding, Junhui waves goodbye to the younger man with a gentle fluttering of his fingers. “Come back soon, HaoHao!”

“My name is still Minghao,” is Minghao’s familiar response. Junhui’s happy giggles follow him out of the room, and Minghao smiles the whole way down to the Starbucks.


-x-


Mingyu is resting in the hospital bed when a man wearing a horse costume and carrying a balloon skips into his room. Mingyu watches with blank eyes as the man beams at him before belting out a song while skipping on the spot.  

“Jun-hui’s sorry for tackling you, of course, of course. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt, of course. He feels awful that you’ve got a concussion and a broken arm, of course. He’ll feel guilty for the rest of his life, of course. He’s so sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry, of course. He’ll never tackle you again in his life, of course. He hopes you’ll heal quickly and properly, of course. You’re one of his closest friends!”

Having finished his jaunty little tune, the man places down the balloon (with a chocolate tied to the end of it to act as a weight) onto Mingyu’s bedside table. Turning around, he skips back out of the room, pausing only to offer Mingyu a happy wave at the doorway.

Mingyu stares at the bright red balloon for a moment before raising his voice. “Thank you, Moon Joonhwi!” he calls out.

“You’re welcome, Mingyu-ah!” Junhui calls back from the adjacent room.

Huffing softly in amusement, Mingyu settles back into his pillows.  

Chapter Text

It’s hard to miss Soonyoung’s entrance considering the fact that he’s blasting Queen’s We Are The Champions at full volume from his phone while sauntering smugly out of the elevator.

Raising one unimpressed eyebrow at the entire spectacle, Jihoon immediately turns back to Joshua and continues as if nothing has happened. “So just send off the documents once you’ve double checked everything; make sure the people down at the post office actually stamp every page they’re supposed to. Last time they forgot to put down one stamp, we had to wait another month before we could send it off.”

“Of course,” Joshua agrees, before subtly gesturing for the younger to lean down. Bending forward from where he’s sitting on the edge of Joshua’s desk, Jihoon allows the other to whisper furtively into his ear: “Should we ask Soonyoung what’s going on?”

Lifting his head back up, Jihoon watches Soonyoung still posing like a Superman in the front of the office; the music on his phone is evidently looped as the opening chords start up again. Seungcheol exits the breakroom at that moment, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hands and briskly walking past the still-posing columnist, his eyes actively avoiding the other’s. Snorting a bit at the ridiculous sight, Jihoon shakes his head.

“Nah, don’t give him the satisfaction. Once he starts, he’ll never stop.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s not like he can hold it in much longer,” Joshua notes dryly. “Look at his leg; it’s vibrating.”

“Then I’m going to enjoy this brief interlude of peace before Soonyoung’s self-control gives way.”

Jihoon takes a long sip of his coffee, ignoring the way Joshua attempts to muffle his bark of laughter as a cough. “You know,” Joshua manages to say in between little hiccupping giggles, “you can probably make it back into your office before Soonyoung starts talking.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely one of my favourites,” Jihoon says casually. Joshua rolls his eyes and mutters with a fond, little smile: “Apparently I’m everyone’s favourite” as Jihoon slowly shuffles back to his office. He soon regrets shuffling so slowly when Soonyoung – successfully interrupting his sneaky, little getaway – loudly proclaims:

“I have a big announcement to make! Everyone, stop what you’re doing. Seungcheol-hyung, I can see you through your window blinds: get out here! Chan, I’d appreciate it if you and Hansol just paused that video of…is that Drake dressed up as Michael Jackson? Okay, nevermind – can you two youngsters just stop watching whatever it is you young people watch for just a moment? Wonwoo! Get your skinny little butt out of your office. Jihoon,” Soonyoung’s curved eyes flash towards Jihoon, who remains motionless with his hand still outstretched, “no going into your office.” Grumbling but relenting nonetheless, Jihoon leans grouchily against his office door and watches as Soonyoung rounds on Mingyu – who’s standing motionless in the middle of the floor – with a little: “Go back to your seat, Mingyu. Good god, why’re you just standing there? You have a broken arm, for goodness’ sake.”

Once Mingyu had efficiently gotten back to his desk and petulantly plopped down onto his chair with a put-about pout, Soonyoung finally stops that Queen’s song.

“Ladies and gentlemen—” he begins.

“There are no ladies here,” Jeonghan cuts in.

“Don’t heckle him,” Seungcheol lightly admonishes the blonde journalist. The bags under his eyes have truly reached legendary-status, and he lives up to the downtrodden image he’s cultivated for himself by gulping down his coffee before muttering, “let him finish quick so we can all get back to work.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Soonyoung repeats. “I know that you have all been waiting on the edges of your seats to find out the results of my bet with Seokmin.”

“Didn’t that bet happen like, two months ago?” Hansol pipes up.

“A month and three weeks,” Soonyoung corrects. “We would have gotten the results sooner, but our office is kind of garbage, and nothing ever gets done on time.”

“Thank you, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says. Jihoon knows it isn’t possible, but somehow in the few seconds that his eyes have left his boss’ face, the older man’s bags seem to have doubled in size (maybe even tripled, if Jihoon is the more dramatic type). “But can we please just get back to the results of the bet?”

“Of course, hyung. I know how excited you all must be,” Soonyoung says happily, his excited eyes sweeping over every occupant in the room. To everyone’s credit, most of them do try to perk up and smile encouragingly at Soonyoung when his eyes meet theirs’, and Jihoon tilts his head in silent acknowledgement when the older columnist looks in his direction.

“So…I am excited to announce…that the winner of this bet…is…” Pausing for dramatic effect, Soonyoung keeps sucking in a breath as everyone else waits in various states of impatience.

“Can I guess, hyung?” Seungkwan finally asks in exasperation once Soonyoung had drawled out the word ‘is’ for over thirty seconds. Snapping his mouth shut and flushing a bit from the exertion of endlessly pulling air into his lungs, Soonyoung answers with a semi-breathlessly chirpy: “Yup!”

“Is it…you?” Seungkwan hedges with a slow nod and exaggeratedly big eyes. Gasping in surprise, Soonyoung begins clapping gleefully.

“How did you know?” He asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I won by two-hundred-and-thirty-four hits!”

“The ‘We Are The Champions’ kind of gave it away,” Seungkwan says with a small eye-roll.

“The sweater you’re wearing doesn’t really help either if you wanted this to be a surprise, Soonyoung,” Jeonghan says. Everyone looks down at Soonyoung’s cozy, cappuccino-coloured sweater with the words: ‘WINNER’ stitched on in thick, beige thread and murmurs in agreement with the blonde’s sentiments.

“Just wait until you see Seokmin’s sweater,” Soonyoung says with a cheeky little grin.

“Where did you even get it, hyung?” Minghao asks, gesturing with a flappy arm at Soonyoung’s knitted garment.

“I made it,” Soonyoung replies, pulling lightly at the bottom hem. “And I made Seokmin’s too.”

“Wait, you knitted two sweaters? In what, the few hours you had between finding out the results and getting to work?” Seungcheol splutters incredulously.

“Oh, no,” Soonyoung laughs a bit, his face scrunching up at the sheer absurdity his boss is suggesting. “I made them years ago, back when I was in university. I always knew they would come in handy one day.”

“Well, I guess no one can ever accuse you of not planning ahead,” Seungcheol says before dryly adding: “The goat incident notwithstanding.”

“I was under pressure that time,” Soonyoung shrugs easily, and Seungcheol shakes his head lightly. “Also, if I hadn’t brought the goats here, we never would have discovered the black mold and would probably all have asthma now. So really, I did a good thing.”

“Congratulations, Soonyoung!” Junhui calls out with a light clap of his hands, successfully interrupting Seungcheol’s spluttering of: “What roundabout logic is that?” The smile on his face is sweet and genuine, and Soonyoung puffs up a bit in response to his friend’s obvious delight.

“Thanks, Junnie. I mean it wasn’t really a surprise, but it’s still nice to have a confirmed win, you know?”

Junhui giggles softly, and Jeonghan calls out, “How did Seokmin take the loss?”

“Horribly,” Soonyoung replies. “Just plain awful. He was crying into his pillow the last time I saw him. Just wailing his lungs off; snot and drool was everywhere. Not a pretty sight at all. My poor Seokmin.” Shrugging in a mixture of vague pity and pure mischievousness, Soonyoung adds: “But, here only the strong survive, and Seokmin is clearly just a weakling when compared to me. I’ll still love him though, even if he is a loser.”

“Calm down, Darwin,” Jihoon can’t help but drawl out. “The two of you literally only have a date on the line.”

“An expensive date,” Soonyoung corrects. Jihoon rolls his eyes in response just as the ding! from the elevator announces a new arrival.

Seokmin bursts out, and – contrary to Soonyoung’s account – there is a lack of tears and snot on his face. Instead, he’s wearing his usual bright smile; even his navy blue cable-knit sweater with the word ‘LOSER’ stitched in blindingly white thread can’t dampen his apparent good mood.

It takes Seokmin a few seconds to realize that the entire office is eerily silent and watching him with carefully focused eyes.

“Good…good morning?” He blinks owlishly at his coworkers who only blink owlishly back. The silence is broken by Soonyoung, who suddenly leaps forward with flailing arms and a penchant for the dramatic (all “survival of the fittest” mentality apparently dashed from his mind at the mere presence of the younger columnist).

“Seokmin! My favourite loser! Why aren't you covered in tears and snot?”

Dropping his bag, Seokmin runs towards his hyung with the same amount of fervor, all while screeching: “Soonyoung-hyung! My favourite winner! Why the heck would I be covered in tears and snot?”

The two of them meet somewhere in the middle and proceed to glomp it out with all the passion of two lovers who have been separated for nigh on four decades (at most, they have only been separated for five hours; Jihoon had gotten a few notifications from Soonyoung in the wee hours of the morning with pictures of the two fools, cuddled up under a blanket on Seokmin’s couch and watching Captain America: Civil War in all their domesticated glory).

From his peripheral vision, Jihoon can see Seungcheol shuffling back into his office. Joshua’s quiet mutter of: “Of course” doesn’t go unnoticed either.

Soonyoung and Seokmin just proceed to continue dirtying up the middle of the office with their blatant love and nauseating obliviousness.


-x-


“Mingyu?”

Mingyu is pretty proud of the fact that he only freezes for a split-second when Wonwoo’s much-missed voice hesitantly sounds from behind him. Breathing in deeply, he continues mixing milk and sugar into his coffee when all he really wants to do is turn around and just…look at the elder.

“Hmm?” He only hums in response, because he doesn’t trust his voice to not break if he speaks.

There’s a long moment of silence, and the sudden fear that grips Mingyu (what if he turns around and Wonwoo is suddenly gone?) is neither new nor surprising; he almost whips around, façade of uncaring nonchalance be damned, when Wonwoo speaks up again: “When you have time, can you meet me in my office? I need to speak to you.” Another pause, before Wonwoo adds in a softly imploring tone, “Please.”

Mingyu closes his eyes. A small, vindictive part of him wants to ignore Wonwoo and slip out of the room. It wants him to dodge the other’s grasping fingers and avoid the elder’s dark, dark eyes. A bigger part of Mingyu, however, simply wants…simply wants Wonwoo. It’s a part of Mingyu that wants Wonwoo with an ache so familiar, he wouldn’t recognize himself without that longing. So he painfully swallows down that small bit of himself that’s quietly bitter, and murmurs a gentle, “Yeah. I’ll be there, hyung.”

His heart is pounding, louder than anything before, and it feels like an eternity has passed before Wonwoo says, “Thank you, Mingyu.”

Mingyu turns around just as Wonwoo disappears.

Wonwoo’s retreating back and the empty doorway he leaves behind isn’t an unfamiliar sight.


-x-


Minghao’s in the middle of photocopying a few documents for Joshua when a pair of warm hands suddenly cover his eyes.

“Guess who.” Junhui’s voice is filled with mirth, and even with his sight temporarily taken away, Minghao can perfectly picture the childish mischievousness painted on the elder’s face.

Deciding to play along, Minghao puts on his best chastising voice. “I told you to stop doing this, Soonyoung-hyung. Honestly. Next time my reflexes might kick in and I could end up elbowing you in the face.”

Junhui’s hands drop from his face, and his happy giggles begin filling the room. Turning around, Minghao is greeted by the older man’s delightfully scrunched-up face.

“No, silly!” Junhui exclaims. “It’s me.”

“Oh, my bad,” Minghao murmurs before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Junhui’s smiling lips. “Hi ‘me’.”

Still laughing, Junhui pecks Minghao one more time before gently pushing the younger man away. His hands drift slowly from Minghao’s shoulder and down his arms before finally entwining their fingers together. Minghao allows this (making sure to be extra careful of Junhui’s sprained wrist), letting the older man clutch onto his two hands. “That was a really bad joke,” Junhui whispers conspiratorially, as if divulging a secret.

“Yet you laughed anyway.”

Junhui huffs dramatically. “I guess I’m too blinded by my love for you to see any of your flaws, HaoHao.”

“That, or maybe I have no flaws,” Minghao replies. Junhui bursts into peals of laughter again, and Minghao marvels at how easy it is to make the other smile. Leaning against the photocopying machine, Minghao gently gathers Junhui closer, placing his now-free hands affectionately on the other’s waist.

“This is very inappropriate for a workplace environment, Minghao-ssi,” Junhui teases softly, even as he rests his hands on Minghao’s shoulders.

Shrugging, Minghao says, “We’ve had a stripper and fourteen goats in our workplace now, Junhui-ssi. I really don’t think we’re the worst offenders here.”

“Yeah, I guess…I guess public displays of affection aren’t as bad as goats and sparkly strippers.” Junhui’s voice is slowly turning quieter as he leans closer and closer to Minghao.

“I mean, Soonyoung-hyung and Seokmin are always doing it anyway.”

From up close, Minghao can count the number of creases that appear on Junhui’s nose when he scrunches it up in glee. “And we’re definitely better than Soonyoung and Seokmin.”

“At least we’re actually together.”

“What, you mean Soonyoung and Seokmin aren’t actually—” Minghao swallows the rest of Junhui’s sarcastically surprised words by pressing a chaste kiss to the other’s lips. They stay like that for a moment before Minghao backs up just enough to press another innocent kiss to Junhui’s lips, and then another one, and another one after that, and another one after that one.

“I wanted to—I just wanted to ask you…ask if you wanted to—to grab lunch with me, or something,” Junhui manages to say between Minghao’s kisses.

“Yeah, something sounds good,” is all Minghao says before leaning back in.

They stand there for who knows how long (it’s just easy to stand there, holding Junhui), lost in their own world, until someone pointedly clears their throat.

Immediately pulling back from Junhui, Minghao flushes red when he sees Joshua standing in the doorway with a knowing glint in his eyes and an exasperated smile decorating his face.

“I was just wondering what was taking so long,” the older man says in a blessedly nonchalant voice.

Gently extracting himself from Junhui’s hold, Minghao scrambles to grab the original documents and their photocopied siblings. Rushing around, Minghao practically shoves the pages into Joshua’s face. Joshua only chuckles good-naturedly, shuffling the papers around in his arms. Offering Minghao and Junhui a small, secretive smile, Joshua simply says “thank you” before walking away.

The silence that Joshua leaves behind is just a little bit awkward. Fighting down the vague uncomfortableness settling in his stomach, Minghao rolls back his shoulders and asks “So how about lunch?” while staring resolutely at the floor.

Receiving no answer, Minghao looks up in slight concern. Junhui’s face is pink, with the colour blotching most prominently on the bridge of his nose and dusted over his forehead. He’s pulling at the ends of his white sweater and swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. His eyes peer up and meet Minghao’s, before quickly shifting away again in embarrassment.

Minghao’s previous uncomfortableness suddenly dissipates under the force of Junhui’s shy demeanor, and he marches up to the elder, drags him in by the elbows, and places one more bashful kiss onto the other’s lips.

When he leans back, Junhui meets his eyes with a goofy smile.

“Lunch was my idea.”


-x-


“Are you going to try to win him back?”

Hansol doesn’t need to ask for clarification to know who Chan is talking about. Ever since confiding in the younger, Chan had been stubbornly adamant in wanting to fix Hansol and Seungkwan’s broken relationship. When asked why he cared so much, Chan had given Hansol a look of utter disbelief before saying: “I care about you, hyung. And I care about Seungkwan-hyung too. It’s obvious the two of you still care about each other, and I just want you to be happy.” Then he rolled his eyes as if he couldn't believe he had to explain this to Hansol, before turning back to his textbook.

“Nope,” Hansol answers while going through the photos in his camera.

“Why not?”

Looking up, Hansol can see the genuine confusion on the intern’s face, and he sighs, placing down his camera and turning around to fully face his friend.

“I hurt Seungkwan…really badly. And I…I can never be sorry enough about that.”

“I know, hyung.”

“He’s rightfully angry at me, you know? And the thing is: I can’t force him to forgive me. I can’t force him to work at my pace, that’s not how it works.” Shrugging a bit haplessly, Hansol averts his eyes from Chan’s deep, prodding gaze, and swallows down the bile that seems to rise in his throat every time he remembers how badly he screwed up. “If Seungkwan ever forgives me, then good. I…nothing will make me happier than being forgiven by him. But I’ve come to realize that…forgiveness isn’t a right, it’s a privilege. It’s Seungkwan’s choice if he wants to forgive me; I can’t force this.”

Chan reaches out to gently rub at Hansol’s back, and the photographer can feel his tense muscles slowly relaxing underneath the careful hand.

“You almost sounded like a hyung there, hyung,” Chan teases affectionately, and Hansol chuckles softly. Biting his lower lip, Chan clearly sifts through the older man’s words before cautiously asking, “I know what you mean, but can’t you try to reach out to him? Maybe Seungkwan-hyung doesn’t know how sorry you are, since you’re not attempting to talk to him.”

“I tried,” Hansol shrugs again. “I think I pushed too much though, because I just made him uncomfortable.” Smiling at Chan’s conflicted face, Hansol leans in and bumps their shoulders together in a sign of camaraderie. “Hey, stop it with that face. Look, once Seungkwan is more comfortable with talking to me, then he can search me out. I’ll be here waiting to fix up my mess, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bumping Chan’s shoulder one more time, Hansol picks up his camera and tilts the screen towards the younger. “Now, what do you think of this one? I mean, I personally think it goes well with Seokmin-hyung’s article, but Minghao-hyung was telling me that it seems a bit too morbid or something.”

Leaning closer, Chan begins to analyze the photo. However, his inspection is interrupted by the front-desk phone ringing. Shooting Hansol an apologetic look, Chan grabs the phone and answers with a chirpy: “Hi! You’ve reached Pledis Daily. This is Lee Chan speaking; how may I help you today?”

Chan gets off the phone just as Minghao and Junhui return from their lunchbreak. Offering a polite farewell, Chan hangs up before turning around to level Minghao an unimpressed look.

“Minghao-hyung, did you forget about the phone interview you were supposed to conduct with Hyungwon-ssi this afternoon?”

Hansol watches as Minghao blanches. Junhui watches him with worried eyes, and Chan shakes his head lightly before reassuring the Chinese journalist: “Don’t worry about it too much, hyung. I told him you weren’t feeling too well and rebooked your interview for tomorrow at three o’clock. I’ll send you an email so you’ll remember, okay, hyung?”

Minghao releases a sigh. “Thank you so much, Chan,” he says with an abashed smile. “I owe you one.”

“Just don’t forget, hyung.”

“I won’t,” Minghao promises, before leading Junhui (who offers the two younger men a small wave) back into the main office by their intertwined hands.

Hansol and Chan watch them disappear around the corner before the latter says with an affectionate shake of his head, “Minghao-hyung’s been super distracted since he got together with Junhui-hyung, hasn’t he?”

Thinking back to the past week where Minghao has slowly and steadily reached Mingyu-levels of clumsiness and forgetfulness, Hansol chuckles good-naturedly.

“Yeah, well, who can blame him?” Hansol asks. He looks down at his photograph of a rose garden; while the reds of the petals blurring with the deep green of the thicket is really striking, it’s the soft, end-of-summer sunshine filtering through the white clouds to illuminate the garden that really captures his attention. The unassuming beams of light somehow remind him of—well, it doesn’t really matter anymore.

Hansol moves on to the next photograph.


-x-


“Hyung?” Mingyu asks, knocking politely on Wonwoo’s open door. “You wanted to see me?”

Wonwoo reacts the moment the first syllable leaves Mingyu’s lips. Pushing his chair back, Wonwoo stands up like how a gentleman does when he receives company. Fumbling a bit, the editor pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose in a familiar act of nervousness, before flashing Mingyu a small smile and gesturing for him to enter.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “Please, sit. Oh, and if you can close the door. Thank you.” It’s only when Mingyu settles down onto one of Wonwoo’s plush seats that Wonwoo gingerly sits down again.

“How are you feeling?” Wonwoo asks after a moment where Mingyu simply watches the other with careful eyes. When the taller man fails to immediately answer, Wonwoo fidgets a little, long fingers fiddling with the multi-coloured pens he has lying about. “With your…broken arm.” He finishes lamely.

“Oh, my arm? It’s fine. I mean, it’s a little inconvenient and all, but this is what happens when you get tackled, I guess.”

He doesn’t mean to sound spiteful, but he does. He feels absolutely no satisfaction, however, when Wonwoo’s face immediately contorts in guilt, saying, “I’m so sorry, Mingyu. I—I never wanted you to get hurt—”

“Hyung,” Mingyu interrupts, and Wonwoo’s apology tapers off. “This is just a broken bone, it’ll heal.” Breathing in deeply, he readies himself and continues: “What I want to know is why you’ve been avoiding me.” Mingyu can see Wonwoo gulping; he notices how the other is actively avoiding his gaze.

“You owe me an explanation, hyung.”

“I—”

“I thought we were getting better, Wonwoo.”

“Mingyu…” Wonwoo whispers before straightening back up and meeting the younger’s eyes. “You’re right. You don’t deserve to be treated like this, and I’m so sorry for ever making you feel…”

“Small,” Mingyu quietly admits.

“I’m sorry?”

“I feel small when you ignore me.”

“Mingyu, I – I’m sorry. You deserve better than that.”

Swallowing all his cries and pleas, Mingyu just shrugs, hiding all of his hurting self beneath a façade of nonchalance. “I just want to know why you’re ignoring me.”

Wonwoo maintains his stoic composure for a moment longer before his face slowly begins to crumble. His eyebrows furrow together and his lips drag down in a line of misery. Shaking his head, he murmurs in a guilt-laced voice: “I can’t tell you.”

Mingyu’s fingers are trembling, but his voice is steady when he says, “I deserve to know.”

“I know, but I can’t tell you.” Mingyu’s face must be doing something, because Wonwoo’s eyes take on a suspicious sheen and the next breath he draws in is tremulous and loud in the stillness of the room. “At the risk of sounding like a cliché: you didn’t do anything wrong, this is all on me.”

“I must be doing something wrong if you won't even talk to me!” Mingyu finally breaks, his previous mask of calmness giving way to the utter distress he feels. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry, Wonwoo-hyung. Please…I don’t – I don’t want to lose you, hyung.” He whimpers the last part; the words feel thick, and sticky, and much-too-honest as it crawls out from his throat. And even if he wants to take it back, he can’t now. It’s just another piece of Mingyu, left out in the open for Wonwoo to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard, to love or to not-love. He feels scraped raw, left bleeding sluggishly from wounds he thought had long healed. Lost in his own tumultuous thoughts, Mingyu jolts in surprise when he feels Wonwoo’s smaller hand slip easily into his larger one.

Looking down at their point of connection, Mingyu takes in a shuddery breath. It’s been years, and yet it’s still Wonwoo’s hand that feels like port, like a harbour – ready to welcome Mingyu back from the violent and murky seas.

“It’s not you, Mingyu,” Wonwoo whispers once Mingyu has stopped feeling so lost. “You’ve been…you’ve been perfect.”

“Then why?” Even to Mingyu, his voice sounds plaintive. Wonwoo’s face suddenly seems even more worn-out than before, and he’s clearly contemplating the best way to go about this as his thumb subconsciously begins tracing patterns on the back of Mingyu’s hand.

“I can’t tell you,” Wonwoo finally says. “It’s personal. But I swear,” he continues when Mingyu feels his own face begin to crumble. “I swear, you’ve done nothing wrong. This entire mess, it’s all on me. I’ve been acting childish, and stupid. Even Jun thinks I’ve been acting like a lunatic, and he’s not wrong. I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you Mingyu-ah, please believe me when I say that that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

“Okay,” Mingyu murmurs, because that’s all he can say now.

“I just…I just need a little more time. Just a bit, and I swear everything will go back to normal. I know I don’t deserve your patience, but I promise: I’ll make things right. Just give me a little more time.”

Mingyu wants to know how much more time? He wants to ask what do you mean by ‘normal’? Do you even remember what ‘normal’ was for us, once?

Instead, he swallows down all his words and simply gives Wonwoo’s hand a gentle squeeze: a final comfort before being tossed back out into unforgiving seas.

“Okay.”


-x-


“Minghao, I’m missing one of the pages from the document you photocopied. Are you sure you gave me everything?”

“Um, let me check the photocopier one more time, hyung.”

The door opens and the lights flicker on. There’s a pause before hesitant footsteps sound and a body settles down beside his.

“Mingyu?” Minghao asks. A warm arm snakes around his shoulders and another one rests at the top of his head, where his face is buried in his knees. “Mingyu, are you okay? Hey…you’re scaring me here. Mingyu?”

Breathing in deeply, Mingyu lifts his head and blinks away the wetness in his eyes. It only takes a few more seconds before he can paste a wan smile onto his face.

“Yeah. Yeah. I will be. Just give me a little more time.”

Chapter Text

“Okay,” Seungcheol begins, squinting suspiciously at the Chinese journalist sitting before him. “What is going on?”

“What do you mean, hyung?” Minghao asks. To his credit, he looks genuinely confused and not-at-all faking innocence as some in the office are wont to do.

“Are you feeling okay?” Seungcheol continues. “Is there anything you need to talk to me about?”

“I’m really confused right now,” Minghao says, squinting at Seungcheol with equally suspicious eyes in return. “If you want to say something, Seungcheol-hyung, then just say it. Stop beating around the bush.” Seungcheol sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose before finally dropping all pretenses.

“You’ve been making a lot of tiny mistakes lately,” he says. “Nothing too major, just small incidents. Forgetting to submit your article last night; missing out on your phone interview this afternoon; breaking Jihoon’s French press last week…” Seungcheol breaks off and shudders a bit, clearly traumatized by the entire ordeal pertaining to the tragic demise of Jihoon’s precious coffee brewer. Coughing into his fist, he looks up and sees the flush of embarrassed shame painted over Minghao’s features. “Look, as I said, it’s nothing too big. I’m not saying all this to make you feel bad, Minghao. I’m just concerned. Is everything alright?”

There’s a pause before Minghao simply states: “Everything is okay.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. Leaning back a bit, he notes the tension in Minghao’s frame and frowns in light concern. “Can you explain what’s going on then?”

“I’ve been careless lately,” Minghao admits bluntly and apologetically. His eyes flicker down to his lap and the frown that twists at his lips is a disappointed one, the sentiment clearly aimed at himself. Seungcheol can feel his own face contort in worry; he meant it honestly when he said he didn’t want Minghao putting himself down. Having worked with the younger man for a few years now, Seungcheol is all too aware of the other’s tendency to shoulder everything by himself and his penchant for taking his own mistakes too personally. Opening his mouth, Seungcheol is about to gently interrupt Minghao’s words before they can take a dive into further self-abasement, when the journalist offers an earnest: “I’ll do my best to not make any more careless mistakes in the future, hyung.”

Seungcheol slumps lower into his seat. Looking into Minghao’s dark eyes, Seungcheol parses through his words before settling with, “Is there really nothing I can do? You’re just usually such a conscientious person, Minghao. It’s alright if you don’t want to say anything. Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll be happy to listen.”

There’s a small pause before Minghao’s eyes begin flickering warily around the room. After a few more seconds of shifty glances, Minghao frowns and quietly admits: “It’s Junhui.”

“Junnie?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow together anxiously. “Is he okay?”

“No, he’s fine, he’s great,” Minghao says before a red flush overtakes his face. Eyes apparently unable to meet Seungcheol’s, Minghao confesses to his lap: “I’ve just been really distracted lately because of Junhui.”

The previous tension immediately drains away.

Seungcheol splutters in amused disbelief.

“You’ve been distracted because of Junnie?”

The glare Minghao shoots him would probably terrify him if the context wasn’t so ridiculous.

“Yes,” Minghao bites out, mouth pursing into a petulant frown. When Seungcheol releases a few more tiny giggles, Minghao practically explodes. “It’s so annoying! I would be working really hard, and all Junhui has to do is come near my general vicinity, and suddenly all I can think about is him. It was fine when we weren’t…you know…together,” Minghao whispers the word as if it’s taboo, before continuing, “but now that we are, he’s just gotten so distracting. I don’t know what to do, hyung.”

“There, there,” Seungcheol says – only semi-mockingly – as he reaches over the desk and softly pats at Minghao’s shoulder. The Chinese man glowers at him, but Seungcheol expertly ignores it (it’s kind of difficult to take Minghao’s threatening looks seriously when he now knows that the younger man’s been too lovesick to work like a functional human being). “Maybe it’ll get better over time? I mean, people have been in love with each other since the dawn of time, and they manage to…you know…not knock down and shatter their scary coworker’s expensive French presses. I’m sure you’ll be fine after a while.”

“I want to be fine now,” Minghao groans. “This is so embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about being in love.”

Minghao grumbles to himself, plucking at the ends of his hoodie, and looking very much like a grumpy child. Seungcheol chuckles and rolls his eyes fondly at the sight.

“Look,” he says with a warm grin. “I’m sure you’ll manage despite the way your heart flutters every time you see Junnie.” Studiously ignoring Minghao’s muttering of: “My heart does not flutter every time I see Junhui”, Seungcheol clucks his tongue affectionately and reaches out to ruffle Minghao’s hair. “Things will settle down after a bit. Just do your best and be a bit more careful.”

Pouting, Minghao runs his hands through his now-messy hair.

“You’re really unhelpful, Seungcheol-hyung.”

“I’m still your boss, kid,” Seungcheol says with another fond roll of the eyes. “Now get out of here and try not to break Jihoon’s mug next, okay? He might actually kill you then, and god knows I’m not powerful enough to stop him.”


-x-


“What would be your plan if you were gonna take the love of your life out on a date?”

“What?” Hansol asks.

“Are you calling Soonyoung-hyung the ‘love of your life’, Seokmin-hyung?” Chan pipes up with an innocent look on his face.

“I mean...he basically is,” Seokmin shrugs carelessly, completely ignoring the way Chan’s shoots him an impudently flat, unimpressed look. Hansol snorts at both the sight and the words, but Seokmin just continues, undeterred. “And this is technically a hypothetical situation. I mean, I’m meant to treat this like a real date, so I just – you know, need a bit of help planning something date-worthy.”

“Have you never been out on a date before, hyung?” Chan asks, genuinely curious now. The way Seokmin is framing his questions makes it seem as though this would be a totally new experience for him. The man is question fidgets a little before answering.

“I have, but only to cafés and coffee shops; I’ve never been out on an expensive, black-tie-event kind of date before.” Fidgeting a little more, Seokmin releases a small huff of self-deprecating laughter. “This is a lot more stressful than I thought it would be.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Chan offers his hyung a supportive smile. “Soonyoung-hyung will like anything you put together. Even just dinner at a slightly more upscale restaurant will make Soonyoung-hyung super happy.”

“Yeah. But I really want to spoil him, you know?”

“Take him out onto the canal,” Hansol suddenly offers before Chan can throw out some more suggestions. The other two blink in surprise at the photographer, who only shrugs and continues: “They’re still doing those boat rides along the canal. It’s suppose to be super pretty at night with the lamps and everything.” Hansol smiles encouragingly at Seokmin. “I dunno. It’s what I would do if I was planning a romantic date-night for me and the love of my life, but maybe it’s not right for you and Soonyoung-hyung.”

“No, no, I like it!” A familiar smile is painted on Seokmin’s face. Reaching forward, he drags Hansol into a loose, half-hug before pulling away and rushing off, waving cheerily the whole way. “Thanks for the help, guys. I’m going to add the boat ride to my list!”

Turning around to face Hansol once Seokmin is gone, Chan smiles playfully at the photographer. “That was smart. I would have never thought about the canal.”

“Well I have actual experience planning dates,” Hansol replies before smirking impishly at the younger. “Maybe once you start going out you’ll get better at this too.”

Scoffing, Chan turns back around to face his computer monitor. “Why do people always assume I haven’t dated before? I’m twenty-two years old, not three.”

Laughing, Hansol shakes his head in gentle amusement before turning back to the notebook on his lap. A comfortable silence settles over the two friends before Hansol suddenly looks up with a confused frown on his face.

“Wait. Did Seokmin-hyung just say ‘list’?”


-x-


A vanilla cupcake with pretty chocolate icing suddenly plops onto the table.

Mingyu jumps and almost screeches from the shock. When he looks up, he meets Junhui’s vaguely apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” Junhui says with a lightly amused chuckle. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Mingyu.”

“It’s fine, hyung,” Mingyu says, even though his heart is probably pounding at a rate of thirty beats per second. “You just surprised me there a little.”

“Well, I hope the cupcake makes up for it.”

“Hyung, what’s this cupcake even for—?” Mingyu begins, but Junhui is quick to slap a warm hand over his mouth. Mingyu blinks up at the elder in a stupefied disbelief, and the grin that twists at Junhui’s lips is almost victorious.

“Mingyu, Mingyu, Mingyu-ah,” Junhui sing-songs happily. “Just think of this cupcake as an extended apology for breaking your arm and giving you a minor concussion.”

Prying Junhui’s long fingers from the bottom half of his face, Mingyu dryly says, “I think it’s going to take more than a cupcake and a candy-gram delivered by a singing man wearing a horse costume to make up for the arm and the concussion, hyung.”

“Challenge accepted!” Junhui’s smile is bright and playful and just a tiny bit dangerous. Mingyu feels as though he’s been run over by a sparkly bulldozer as the older man dramatically continues: “Prepare yourself, Mingyu. I’m going to spoil you in ways you’ve never been spoiled before!”

“Wait, that isn’t what I meant—”

“I promise, by the end of today, you’re going to be ruined for everyone else. I’m going to give you so much love, you’re going to unconsciously compare all your future lovers to me and find them all lacking.”

“Oh my god, hyung,” Mingyu gasps out in between his quiet laughter. The heavy feeling that has been sitting on his chest is slowly dissipating under the sheer ridiculousness of his hyung; Junhui is still flapping his hands around like a loon, and Mingyu can’t help the unattractive snort that escapes him at the absurd sight.

“Consider yourself warned, Mingyu. I am going to make you fall, but in a safe way that won’t cause any more concussions and broken bones. I’ll give you an hour to get yourself ready for my love.”

Mingyu watches as Junhui takes out a piece of notebook paper from the deep pocket of his white and blue hoodie. Handing the ripped page solemnly to the younger, Junhui nods ominously before more or less skipping away.

Blinking away his fond befuddlement, Mingyu opens up the folded paper to find a carefully drawn picture of a cupcake with a smiley face. The words You Bake Me Crazy are spelled out underneath in Junhui’s scratchy handwriting, and Mingyu feels another round of chuckles escape him.

“Thank you, Moon Joonhwi,” Mingyu calls out in a voice that's half-hoarse from his laughter and earlier tears. Junhui turns around from where he had been about to disappear down the hallway and playfully sticks out his tongue in response before continuing on his merry way.

Shaking his head fondly, Mingyu takes the cupcake and bites into it.

Minghao walks in a few moments later with a half-empty coffee cup just as Mingyu is polishing off the last bite of his sweet treat. A hesitant smile curls up along the younger’s lips at the sight of his friend, looking much better than when he last saw him.

“Someone’s happy,” Minghao observes.

Lightly shaking his head again, Mingyu chuckles and hands Minghao Junhui’s small drawing.

“Your boyfriend is ridiculous,” is all Mingyu says.

Minghao carefully inspects the page, his eyes drifting slowly over the terrible pun and the cute sketch. Suddenly, his mug slips from his fingers and drops to the white-tiled floor. Lukewarm liquid sprays everywhere and shards of ceramic glass bounce violently across the floor in a true display of artistic chaos.

Mingyu actually screeches this time.


-x-


Jihoon is sitting in Seungcheol’s chair when Seungcheol walks back into his office with a fresh cup of coffee in his hands. The younger editor’s iconic, monstrous mug is sitting proudly on the edge of Seungcheol’s desk, and the older man can see how his stacks of paperwork and even his computer monitor and keyboard have been shoved to the corners of the desk in order to make room for the ceramic beast.

Plopping down onto the chair across from Jihoon, Seungcheol takes a nice, long sip of his coffee.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” Jihoon parrots back.

“Fancy seeing you here in my office.”

“I’m hiding from Seokmin and Soonyoung.”

“Well that’s new,” Seungcheol drawls out. Jihoon shoots him an unimpressed stare, but Seungcheol can see the way the corner of his lips are twitching upwards. “What are they doing now?”

“They’re acting like two teenagers about to go out on their first date together.” Reaching forward, Jihoon begins playing with Seungcheol’s jar of colourful paperclips. “I can’t believe they’re not actually dating.”

“Aren’t they though?” Seungcheol shoots back. “I feel like they’ve been dating for years and are just messing with us at this point.”

Jihoon’s face scrunches up when he throws his head back in laughter, and Seungcheol finds himself impulsively smiling along.

“Honestly, if this is just one long elaborate prank, we’ve bypassed the time for a punchline a long time ago.” There’s a tiny smirk on Jihoon’s face when he says, “There’s no way they’re playing with us; I think they’re actually just this oblivious.”

“I don’t know. Soonyoung did have the foresight to make those two sweaters all the way back in university.”

“And that makes him a genius mastermind?” Jihoon asks. “He literally turned our office into his own personal petting zoo a few weeks ago.”

“I feel like that entire goat fiasco was a prank too,” Seungcheol mutters to his coffee. His petulant glaring is broken by another bout of Jihoon’s sharp laughter, and he looks up with a sheepish smile. “Sometimes I feel like I’m one of the victims on those reality prank shows, and everyone in this office is out to get me.”

“Sadly, this is just your life, hyung,” Jihoon leans back with a satisfied grin, looking way too much at home while perched on Seungcheol’s chair. “No pranks here.”

“You want to bet on that?”

“And turn into Soonyoung and Seokmin 2.0? No thank you.”

Laughing lightly under his breath, Seungcheol meets Jihoon’s amused gaze. “I can’t believe Seokmin and Soonyoung don’t know that they’re in love with each other.”

“Yeah, well, they’re silly dummies,” Jihoon shrugs. “You should know. This office is full of them.”

Seungcheol grins at Jihoon, and feels oddly like one of those silly dummies.

“The silliest,” he agrees.

Jihoon’s eyes sparkle over the rim of his round glasses.


-x-


“Hey, how would you plan a long, romantic evening with the love of your life?”

Seungkwan screams and almost spins around which…well, would have been a fucking mess.

“Seokmin!” Seungkwan screeches. “I’m literally peeing right now!”

Seungkwan can hear the way his hyung bounces up and down on the balls of his feet behind him, and almost sheds some real salty tears when Seokmin just asks: “Sooo...is this a bad time?”

“I almost sprayed you with my piss!”

“I’m sorry!” Seokmin cries, sounding genuinely apologetic now in the face of Seungkwan's explosive passion, but Seungkwan is finding it a little bit hard to immediately forgive him, all things considered. “I just really need some help! I’ll come back and bother you later.”

“Oh my god, hyung,” Seungkwan whimpers. “Just take Soonyoung-hyung down to the canal or something.”

“Hansol already suggested that. He said it would be super romantic.”

“Then why are you asking me? And now of all times?!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Seokmin squeaks out. “I just…I just want things to go well. Soonyoung-hyung really works hard on his articles and deserves to get spoiled, you know?”

“I know,” Seungkwan groans, and he really does. “He deserves the best, and he’ll love anything you do. I just…I don’t have a lot to offer. I haven’t dated anyone in a while.”

There’s a small silence (filled only by the trickling sounds coming from Seungkwan and he wants to die) before Seokmin says with genuine gratitude: “Thanks, Seungkwannie. You were really helpful.”

“Okay, no problem. Now leave me alone, hyung. God, can’t a man pee in peace? What is humanity coming to if people can’t even do their business without their friends barging in on them? Don’t just stand there, hyung, get out!”


-x-


Mingyu is given a three second reprieve after sitting at his desk before Junhui is suddenly zooming across the office floor on his rolly chair with a grim look of determination set on his face.

The Chinese man barely stops himself from slamming painfully against the sharp edge of Mingyu’s desk.

“Are you okay, hyung?” Mingyu asks worriedly, hands reaching out and gently patting his hyung down for any obvious injuries. Junhui semi-playfully pushes his hands away with an uncharacteristic mock-scowl twisting his lips.

“No spoiling me,” he says seriously. “Today, I’m spoiling you.”

“I’m not spoiling you. I’m literally just making sure you didn’t re-bruise your ribs or something with that stunt you just pulled.”

“Be quiet and let me spoil you!” Junhui exclaims, before his hands suddenly shoot out and grab at Mingyu’s shoulders. Before the younger man even knows what’s happening, Junhui is massaging the tense muscles of his back, working at the tight spots and carefully kneading the sensitive skin.

“Ahhhhh,” Mingyu moans in approval as Junhui’s fingers press attentively against the knots he hadn’t even known were there.

“Feel good?” Junhui asks, voice a bit distant as he puts all his attention on destressing his dongsaeng.

It takes a while for Mingyu to remember how to speak.

“Soooo good…gahhhhh,” is his incredibly articulate and poetic answer. His words taper off into a pleasured groan after that, and dimly, he can hear the pleased giggle Junhui releases.

“I’m glad,” Junhui says. “But it’d be best if you can tone down your knotty noises, Mingyu-ah. We are still in a workplace after all.”

There’s a moment of silence before Junhui says, “Do you get it? Knotty as in naughty? But knots as in the knots in your back?”

The groan Mingyu releases this time is more pained that pleased.

“Oh hyung…” He says. Junhui’s laughter only gains in strength at the disgust present in Mingyu’s voice. Mingyu shakes his head, semi-mock displeasure over the pun melting away in the face of the pure glee in Junhui’s soft giggles. “That was terrible.”

“That was amazing,” Junhui corrects. “I think I’m getting funnier as time passes.”

“Ah, well, I guess you made me smile, so that’s something.”

Giggling one last time, Junhui’s fingers leave Mingyu’s shoulders. He slides his chair around so that he’s sitting right beside the younger before he wraps two arms around one of Mingyu’s, and rests his head against Mingyu’s now-tense-free shoulder.

“How was that?”

“It was really good,” Mingyu says with a smile. “You’re really good at giving massages, hyung. Thank you.”

“I’m glad. HaoHao’s been complaining about how stiff his shoulders are so I want to give him a massage. It’s good to hear that I’m not terrible at this.”

“Wow. I’m heartbroken. Are you telling me that I was just your guinea pig?” Mingyu teases, and Junhui swats his good arm with a playful pout.

“Of course not! Well…okay, maybe a little,” Junhui amends, and Mingyu snorts in amusement. Sticking his tongue out quickly in a familiar gesture of childish provocation, Junhui continues afterwards with a small, snobby, little sniff. “You’ve been holding yourself so stiffly lately; I thought a massage would help you relax a little bit.”

“Well it really did,” Mingyu says. Pulling his arm free from Junhui’s grasp, he wraps Junhui in a tight side hug. Junhui burrows into his side, arms snaking around his waist, and Mingyu lets his cheek bump affectionately against the top of the elder’s head. “I feel a lot better now. Thank you, Moon Joonhwi.”

“No problem, Kim Mingyu.”

After a comfortable moment, Junhui pulls his head away from Mingyu’s shoulder and peers up at the younger with inquisitive brown eyes.

“Do you think the ‘knotty’ joke will go over well with Minghao?”

“Oh my god, no,” Mingyu says, half-amused and half-appalled at the very idea of Junhui cracking that joke to Minghao in the middle of a no-doubt incredibly non-platonic massage session. “It’ll totally kill the mood, hyung. Don’t do it.”

“Really? I think he’ll like it. Unlike you, he appreciates my humour.”

“I appreciate your humour just fine! You know what, maybe Minghao will like that joke. He’s kind of a secret-loser anyway, so go for it, I say.”

“Who’s a secret-loser?” Minghao asks at that very moment, rounding the corner with a pile of manila folders in his arms. His face is totally unimpressed, and Mingyu knows that Minghao knows that he had just been described as a secret-loser behind his back.

“HaoHao!” Junhui perks up at the sight of the younger man, though he makes absolutely no move to disentangle himself from Mingyu. Minghao barely bats an eye at the affectionate tableau created by his boyfriend and his best friend and, instead, stands there patiently with an affectionate smile on his face as he watches Junhui. “You think I’m funny, right?”

“Mmm…” Minghao hums with a teasing grin. “I don’t know…I think you go overboard with your jokes sometimes.”

“Minghao.”

“What, did you just tell Mingyu a joke?” At Junhui’s nod, Minghao’s provocative grin takes on a more indulgent edge. “Well, let’s hear it then.”

Mingyu groans in mock-disapproval as Junhui bounces excitedly in his seat.

“Okay! So I was giving Mingyu a massage, and you know how you have to massage to get rid of all the knots in your back, because the knots in your back is what makes you uncomfortable? So I was getting rid of Mingyu’s knots, and he was groaning because it felt good, so I told him: ‘stop making knotty noises’.”

He stops then, and looks towards Minghao with an expectant expression on his face.

Minghao’s wearing a stern expression on his face, but Mingyu can see the mirth dancing in his eyes.

“That was awful, Junhui.”

“It’s one of my best jokes,” Junhui proudly declares.

“It’s somehow even less funny the second time around, and I didn’t even think that was possible,” Mingyu adds, and Junhui pokes at his tummy with puffed-out cheeks.

“I’m hilarious,” he mutters.

Minghao laughs then – the sound bright and clear – at the face of Junhui’s pouty expression. “You’re alright,” he concedes, and the smile that began to form on Junhui’s lips the moment Minghao began laughing flourishes into a wide and happy beam. His arms tighten around Mingyu’s waist, and Mingyu presses Junhui more securely into his side in response.

“I’ll give you a massage later on, okay?” Junhui says. “Mingyu-ah says I’m pretty good.”

“I look forward to it,” Minghao says, eyes soft and tender before he turns to Mingyu and his expression sharpens into something more playful. “Thanks for sitting in for me, Guinea-Pig-ssi.”

“Oh go away,” Mingyu groans, and Minghao breaks into small snickers. “You’re ruining my moment with Junnie-hyung.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll leave you to it then,” Minghao says as he begins walking towards Jihoon’s closed office door.

“Come back quickly, HaoHao!” Junhui calls out.

Minghao turns around with a tender smile on his face before picking up pace and speeding towards his destination. Two of the manila folders and its papery contents slip from Minghao’s arms and flutter uselessly to the floor. Minghao, evidently not noticing his diminished stack of folders, continues his brisk pace.

“Minghao. Minghao!” Mingyu calls out after the younger man in slight exasperation. “Your folders!”


-x-


“Fancy evening plans. Love of your life. Ideas?” Seokmin asks, throwing himself into a loose, half-sprawl across Jeonghan’s desk. Jeonghan – to his credit – doesn’t even flinch at the sudden body materializing across his paperwork, while Joshua – sitting across from Jeonghan – jumps in his seat, banging his knees painfully against the bottom of his desk, and Seungkwan – sitting a few places over – almost flips his entire workstation over.

“Hi, Seokminnie,” Jeonghan simply says, running his fingers through Seokmin’s choppy black hair. “What’s this about fancy evening plans and the love of my life?”

“I’m trying to come up with a nice itinerary for my date with Soonyoung-hyung, and I need some more ideas. So far I have ‘dinner at a fancy restaurant (black-tie preferable)’, ‘romantic boat ride on the canal’, and ‘quiet, relaxing stroll through the lantern-lit gardens downtown’. Jihoon-hyung suggested I take Soonyoung-hyung to the petting zoo…but I think he was just joking. Anyway, I feel like I’m still missing something. Please help me, hyung?”

“Oh? Is this a real date now?” Jeonghan asks, voice still perfectly even as he continues to card his fingers through his dongsaeng’s hair.

“Well I’m supposed to treat this like a real date,” Seokmin explains, his eyes fluttering close at the soothing ministrations of Jeonghan’s hand. “That was part of our bet.”

“I see,” Jeonghan says. Looking up, he shares a pointed look with Joshua, before turning his attention back onto the younger man. “Well, it sounds like you already have a pretty full evening, Seokmin. I don’t really think you need to add anything else.”

“That’s right,” Joshua pipes up. Seokmin cracks one eye open to glance at his other hyung. “You don’t want to pack too much into one evening. Otherwise you’re just going to feel rushed, and dates are meant to be fun and relaxing.”

Seokmin frowns a bit. “I know, but I really want to spoil Soonyoung-hyung. Soonyoung-hyung deserves more than just three events.”

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan calls out in exasperation from across the room. “Just take him out on multiple dates. Then you can spoil him all you want.”

“But that’s not part of the bet,” Seokmin says. Seungkwan’s eyes roll so far back, no one would be surprised if his irises never showed again.

“Okay, well how about something more personal, hmm? I think Soonyoung will really appreciate something unique and special, just for him.” Pulling at Seokmin’s bangs, Jeonghan hums in a show of contemplation before snapping his fingers as though the idea just came to him. “I know! Why don’t you serenade Soonyoung? Sing him something sweet, something that conveys just how you feel for him. It’s the perfect romantic gesture, and I’m sure he’ll be touched by the amount of effort you put into it.”

“Yeah?” Seokmin turns imploring eyes to Jeonghan, who nods sagely.

“Most definitely.”

“Wow, thank you, hyung,” Seokmin’s thousand-watt smile returns. Pushing off the desk, Seokmin beams with newfound determination. “I’m going to go figure out what song to serenade Soonyoung-hyung with now. Thank you so much for your help, Jeonghan-hyung!”

The three of them watch Seokmin rush off, and it’s only after he’s gone that Joshua turns impressed but unsurprised eyes towards Jeonghan.

“You’re sneaky,” he says.

“You know it,” Jeonghan replies with a sly wink. Laughing lightly, Joshua turns back to his computer monitor, but not before shooting Jeonghan one last fond look.

Behind them, Seungkwan has a small scare as his eyeballs actually threaten to remain stuck in the back of his head from the sheer force and magnitude of his eye roll.  


-x-


Stepping outside the building, Wonwoo’s about to make his way to his usual bench when he notices that it has already been taken over by Mingyu and Junhui.

The former is happily munching away on an ice cream cone, while the latter is speaking in a rapid pace. A series of notes are spread out between them. Even from a distance, Wonwoo can hear Junhui’s higher pitched giggles mixing in with Mingyu’s deeper chuckles, and the once-familiar sound causes something to twist inside his chest.

“—come with me tonight,” Junhui is saying, bright and happy and so, so sweet, that Wonwoo could never begrudge him Mingyu’s affectionate gaze. “The art gallery is free on Monday evenings. It’ll be fun! Please come with me?”

“I don’t know,” Mingyu replies. The smile on his face is small but genuine, and he looks almost ethereal under the late afternoon sun. Wonwoo begins to back away, knowing all too well that he’s intruding on a private moment between two friends, but his steps are slow and heavy despite his intentions. “Wouldn’t you rather bring Minghao?”

“HaoHao said he’s busy tonight,” Junhui waves his one good hand carelessly. “Besides, today I’m spoiling you! So you have to come with me.”

“Spoiling me? With what, a free trip to the art gallery?”

“The art gallery might be free, but my time is worth a rate of ten thousand dollars an hour.”

Mingyu whistles, cheeks pushed up in happy amusement. “Whew, that’s expensive. How can I possibly turn down something so valuable?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with.” Mingyu laughs as Junhui breaks out in happy cheers, and Wonwoo slips back into the building.

Making his way to the elevators, Wonwoo thinks: This is what I need. Just a little more time, and I’ll be able to smile with Mingyu again.

Mingyu’s laughter continues echoing in his head for the rest of the day, mixing in with the rest of Wonwoo’s cherished memories, and he holds the happy sound close to his heart, sad and hopeful all the same.

Dimly, he hopes that Mingyu will have a nice time at the art gallery with Junhui; he hopes he’ll continue to laugh and smile as he looks through the paintings and the sculptures and the artifacts.

Pressing the button to the right floor, Wonwoo is intimately aware that there are many things he wants, but he’ll settle on just one for now: Mingyu’s happiness.

He just wants Mingyu to be happy again.

He can figure out the rest afterwards.


-x-


“Hiya,” Soonyoung says, leaning over the back of Seokmin’s chair. “What’s that?” He asks, fingers curiously drifting towards a piece of folded paper sitting in the middle of the desk.

“Hey,” Seokmin chides, lightly grabbing at his hyung’s eager fingers. Their fingers automatically intertwine together, and Seokmin frowns mock-sternly at Soonyoung’s pouty face. “No looking; it’s meant to be a surprise.”

“Is it for our date?” Soonyoung’s pout melts away into an excited grin, and Seokmin feels a smile blossom on his face as an immediate, almost Pavlovian response to the elder’s apparent happiness.

“Yes,” he admits, and Soonyoung’s eyes only sparkle with even greater curiosity and anticipation now. “It’s gonna be a surprise though, so no peeking or asking anyone else in the office.”

“They know?”

“I needed a few ideas and everyone contributed to it,” Seokmin says with a small shrug. Still smiling brightly, he lets his thumb rub small circles on the back of Soonyoung’s pale hand. “I hope you’re ready to have your pants spoiled off of you, hyung.”

“Sheesh, make it a little less obvious that your end goal is to get me naked, Seokmin,” Soonyoung says with a carefree laugh. Giddy expression smoothing off into something more earnest, Soonyoung reaches out with his free hand and gently swipes tender fingers over Seokmin’s high cheekbone. “You know you don’t have to go all out of your way for me though, right Seokmin? I’d be happy just getting dinner with you somewhere as long as I got to spend time with you.”

“I know,” Seokmin answers, fingers reaching up to cradle Soonyoung’s. “But I want to spoil you,” he says honestly, words well-worn as though he has been saying them for forever.

Soonyoung’s answering smile is soft, and fond, and the way he leans forward to nuzzle affectionately against the top of Seokmin’s head leaves Seokmin feeling at peace.


-x-


After a full day of causing minor casualties and accidents, Minghao is all too happy to pull away from the office building in his Mercedes.

“How does Mingyu do this all the time?” Minghao groans dramatically. From the corner of his eye, he can see the way Junhui cocks his head to the side in mild curiosity, an indulgent smile playing along the edges of his lips.

“Do what?”

Ignoring Junhui’s question, Minghao reaches out with one hand and grasps at the elder’s. Eyes never leaving the road, Minghao asks: “How do you do it?”

“You’re acting funny today,” Junhui says, voice sweet and patient and full of affection. “How do I do what?”

“Not get distracted at work all the time. I mean, I don’t know. I’ve been a bit distracted lately because I’m always…thinking about you. I just – I don’t know.”

“HaoHao,” Junhui’s voice is teasing, but when Minghao’s eyes flicker to the him, he can see how touched the other man is. “Do you love me that much?”

Rolling his eyes, Minghao dryly says: “You know I do.”

Junhui’s giggles taper off into a comfortable silence, and Minghao is content with the idea that Junhui just dropped the subject when the older man suddenly confesses: “I get distracted by you a lot too.”

Minghao lets his eyes drift back to Junhui; a pink blush is dotting his nose, and though his demeanor is shy, there’s nothing hesitant about him. Rather, Junhui looks confident in his admission, brave and half-reckless and anything but scared.

It means more than Minghao can say, the idea that Junhui feels safe enough to share his secrets with him.

“Do you?” Minghao asks, voice soft and intimate in the shared space of the car. “You haven’t been half as clumsy as I’ve been though.” They pull up to the front of Junhui’s apartment complex, and Minghao brings the car to a gentle stop before twisting around and facing Junhui’s pretty face. “I guess this feeling is just something you get used to after a while.”

A wry smile blossoms on Junhui’s lips, and he leans awkwardly over the console to tuck himself against Minghao. The younger man’s arms automatically lift up and gathers the other close. Junhui’s next words are whispered into the hollow of Minghao’s throat.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I mean – I’ve loved you for a long time, HaoHao, and the feeling hasn’t died down, not even a little.” Looking up and meeting Minghao’s eyes with a gentle, playful kind of smile, Junhui says: “I just got better at pretending.”

Letting out a huff of laughter, Minghao drops a small kiss onto Junhui’s forehead. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to get used to looking like a dumbass in the office for a while longer.”

“I kind of like the idea of you getting all silly because of me.”

“Oh, do you?” Minghao asks with raised eyebrows. “Because I can tell you right now that you’re the only one enjoying this. You should have seen Jihoon-hyung’s face when I broke his French press. I thought he was going to kill me. This is the end of Xu Minghao, I thought.” Sighing and shaking his head, Minghao finishes with melodramatic: “You’re looking at a survivor right now.”

“I can’t believe people actually think you’re cool when you’re really just one big nerd,” Junhui says, eyes curved up in laughter.

“Pot meet kettle,” Minghao replies in an unimpressed tone before pressing one more kiss to Junhui’s forehead. Pulling back, Minghao's face smooths into something sweet and tender as he carefully brushes back Junhui's bangs. “Okay, have fun tonight. Take care of Mingyu for me, okay?”

“I will carry his stuff and open all the doors for him, promise.”

“Loser,” Minghao huffs out.

Smiling brightly, Junhui reaches for his bag in the backseat before jumping out of the car. He pauses before closing the door though, and turns around with a worried look on his face.

“Don’t…don’t go too hard on Wonwoo, okay? He’s…he’s hurting as well, and I…I just—”

“I’ll be good,” Minghao gently interrupts when Junhui continues floundering, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt in a familiar gesture of uncertainty. “I promise.”

Minghao watches the way the tension slowly leaks away from Junhui’s body. A small smile settles on his lips, and his eyes are so trusting that Minghao knows he’ll do everything in his power to make sure he never breaks that faith.

“I know you will.”

“Have fun, okay?” Minghao says. “Be safe.”

“Good night, HaoHao.” Right before the door slams shut, Junhui slips in a soft, “Love you.”

It’s only after Junhui safely slips into his apartment lobby that Minghao can bring himself to drive away.


-x-


It’s a bit after eight when a knock sounds on his door. Wonwoo debates ignoring it for a good while until another round starts up, forcing the editor off his comfy position on the couch.

Minghao is on the other side of the door, and Wonwoo feels a small shock zap through his body. He can’t remember the last time he had spent time with Minghao with just the two of them. The realization is a heavy, unhappy one, and Wonwoo frowns, lost but not necessarily surprised at why the younger man suddenly decided to show up now of all times.

(The image of Mingyu’s glassy eyes is burned into his mind.)

“Hey, hyung,” Minghao says. His tone of voice is neither happy nor angry, and Wonwoo can only nod back in reply. “I know I didn’t really give you a head’s up, but is it okay if I come in for a little bit?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Wonwoo’s body begins moving on autopilot. Backing away from the doorway, he watches as Minghao removes his shoes and makes himself comfortable on Wonwoo’s well-worn, brown couch.

“Do you want something to drink?” Wonwoo asks, and Minghao shakes his head with a polite smile.

“No, but thanks, hyung.” Nodding towards the window sill where a bunch of small potted plants sit, Minghao’s smile becomes just a touch more genuine. “I haven’t seen those in a while. They look good, hyung. A bit more alive than last time, to be honest.”

“Thank you. I—” Breaking off, Wonwoo swallows down the bile creeping up his throat, and decides to just nip the no-doubt awful conversation brewing ahead right at the bud. “Are you here because of Mingyu?”

The small smile immediately slips off of Minghao’s face, and an awkward silence settles between them: thick and heavy with years-worth of unspoken words.

“Yeah.” Minghao clears his throat. His eyes settle on the far wall for a moment as he gathers together his thoughts before he draws his focus back onto his hyung. Wonwoo waits with bated breath, ready yet also not for the harsh reprimandation sure to come.

However, instead of sharp words, Minghao releases a heavy sigh of air. His body slackens, and he just ends up looking more tired than confrontational.

“Look,” Minghao begins, soft and placating and gentle in a way that Wonwoo would have never expected. “I know you talked to Mingyu this afternoon, and I’m not going to lie: I’m pissed at how hurt he was afterwards. But…but I know you, Wonwoo-hyung. I know you’d never be deliberately cruel; you’re blunt and honest, but never mean. You’re kind, hyung. You’re one of the kindest people I know, and it took me a while to remember that because I was just so angry on his behalf.”

Pausing, Minghao bites on his bottom lip in a gesture of contemplation, and Wonwoo feels as though he’s stepped into a surreal dream. He ends up crashing back into reality with Minghao’s next words though.

“Sometimes I...I forget that the divorce has been hard on you as well.” Minghao whispers – sounding guilty for even bringing up the topic – and Wonwoo gains some sort of sick pride at managing to not flinch back at the mere mention of — well, of it.

Divorce. It was such an ugly word that somehow managed to pack in so much pain and heartbreak and disappointment into seven little letters. Divorce. It was stupid, he knew. It’s just a word – it doesn’t even really mean anything. Somehow, though, these empty placations do nothing to stop the aching bruises and the bleeding muscles that comprise all of Wonwoo now.

“Wonwoo-hyung…” Minghao’s whisper brings him back, and the way the younger man reaches out to curl one warm hand around Wonwoo’s thin wrist works to stop him from floating away into the vast atmosphere.

“I’m here,” Wonwoo says, because I’m okay sounds too much like a lie, even to his own ears.

Minghao’s hand tightens just a little bit around his wrist, before the younger man continues: “Wonwoo-hyung…I feel like I haven’t made this clear enough: but I’m your friend too. And I know I haven’t been there enough for you, but I care about you. It’s not just you and Junhui, okay? You have me too; I’m in your corner as well, I promise. And it’s…it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me. But I just want you to know that I’m here for you. I’ve always been here for you. And even if you never want to talk to me, I’ll still be here for you, okay?” Smiling sadly at the other, Minghao whispers: “No man is an island. Remember that, hyung?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says. The words echo back from what felt like an eternity ago, but there’s something as comforting about them now as there was back then, when it was just Wonwoo and Minghao pouring over old books in the university library, coffee cups surrounding them and midnight looming over their exhausted heads.

“I missed you, hyung,” Minghao says. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Wonwoo replies, equally soft and apologetic. After all, it takes more than one person to sever a friendship.

“I wasn’t there for you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. At least, not completely.”

“I missed you, hyung,” Minghao repeats. “I missed you all the time.”

“I missed you too.” Wonwoo confesses, and somehow it gets a little easier to breathe. He hadn’t even realized just how much he had missed Minghao until the younger man was sitting in front of him with a small and familiar smile dancing on his lips.

“Do you…do you want to stay for a while?” Wonwoo asks, quiet and hopeful and ready to stop missing people all the time. “We…we never got around to finishing Goblin. We can watch an episode or two tonight? Unless you have to go or finished the series yourself.”

“Nah,” Minghao replies. “It never felt right, watching it without you.”

Wonwoo laughs, happy and grateful, and Minghao is quick to join him.

And even though Wonwoo’s laughter bordered on tearful, and some things still hurt like crazy, at that very moment, it felt a little bit like healing.

Chapter Text

“Okay, spill,” Jeonghan says, before swiping half the contents off of Seungcheol’s desk in order to make room to perch himself onto the now semi-cleared wooden surface. At this point, Seungcheol genuinely feels as though he’s reached a point of utter apathy, and he just watches with a resigned expression on his face as his paperwork, his computer keyboard, and his multicoloured pens reach their sacrificial demise on the ground (and their deaths aren’t even for a good cause, Seungcheol thinks, watching as Jeonghan makes himself comfortable on the desk).

Reaching for his (thankfully still intact) mug, Seungcheol takes a long sip of his now lukewarm coffee before sighing and leaning back on his chair.

“What do you want, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol asks, sounding tired and defeated even to his own ears, and Jeonghan’s eyes narrow into intimidating little slits at the exhaustion lacing through his voice.

“What’s wrong with you, you sad, pathetic lump?” Jeonghan steamrolls over his question, crossing his arms over his chest. Seungcheol takes another sip of his coffee and does his best to avoid Jeonghan’s probing eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he replies. Jeonghan immediately scoffs in a way that screams you are the saddest, most pathetically lumpy person I have ever seen in my life but Seungcheol studiously ignores him in favour of staring down at his lap.

“Try again,” Jeonghan says, and Seungcheol glances up just in time to see the completely unimpressed expression dancing over the younger man’s features.

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” Seungcheol asks instead, and Jeonghan sighs as if he can’t believe they’re having this conversation.

“Fine,” Jeonghan says before asking in a deceptively relaxed and conversational tone: “Why have you been moping after Jihoon for the past four days then?”

Seungcheol blanches.

“I haven’t been moping after Jihoonie!” He denies with the typical passion of a man in denial, and Jeonghan blatantly scoffs at his face.

“You literally lingered outside his office door for thirteen minutes and twenty-two seconds yesterday with tears streaming down your face, before clutching your heart and dragging your sad, little body away.”

“I didn’t do that!”

“You’re right,” Jeonghan relents. “You didn’t cry, and you were actually standing there for sixteen minutes and forty-seven seconds. I just thought I’d let you save face by cutting down the time.”

“Jeonghan!”

“I have video proof,” Jeonghan nonchalantly says, before whipping out his phone and pressing a button. An image of Seungcheol fidgeting outside of Jihoon’s door takes over the screen, and Seungcheol can distinctively hear Jeonghan’s graceful snorts of amusement and unimpressed tsks through the speakers. He feels a red flush overtake his face even as Jeonghan pauses and video and pockets his phone while stating: “The video’s only nine minutes and twelve seconds long because my arm was starting to get too tired to keep holding my phone up.”

“I can’t believe you videotaped me,” Seungcheol mutters (even though he most definitely can believe that the blonde devil-spawn would pull something like this), but Jeonghan just waves off his complaints with a graceful flap of his hand.

“And I can’t believe you thought you could lie to me, yet here we are.” Raising an eyebrow, Jeonghan looks down at the older man with an odd mix of presumptuous concern lingering in his eyes. “Are you ready to start talking?”

Groaning, Seungcheol slumps down in his chair. Silence overtakes the room for a long moment, but apparently Jeonghan possesses a lot of patience, because he just sits there, perched on the corner of Seungcheol’s desk and continues to stare the older man down.

“I think…I think Jihoon’s planning on quitting,” Seungcheol finally admits. While embarrassment quickly makes itself known, it’s the surprisingly forceful feeling of hurt and betrayal (which is stupid, Seungcheol knows) that blossoms immediately after that keeps him from taking back his admission.

“Jihoon wants to quit? Are we talking about the same Jihoon who tries to hand in his resignation at least four times a day?” Jeonghan asks, still sounding thoroughly unimpressed, and Seungcheol frowns.

“I found a bunch of job ads on his desk.” Seungcheol’s voice is quiet and subdued when he adds: “I think he means it this time.”

There’s a beat of silence before Jeonghan asks: “Have you talked to him about this?”

“I can’t just talk to him about this. It’s just—I can’t just do that.” Seungcheol splutters, looking up at Jeonghan in disbelief at the stupidity of his suggestion. Jeonghan’s eyes flutter just a bit before his expression smooths itself out into something more earnest, and he shoots Seungcheol a placatingly understanding smile.

“Of course you can’t,” he agrees with a bob of his head.

“I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, if you’re not going to talk to him, I guess all you can do is wait and see what happens.”

“No…” Seungcheol mutters as an idea begins to take form in his head. “I can try to convince him to stay…”

“Or you can do that,” Jeonghan agrees amiably enough. Leaning forward, a thoughtful frown twists at his lips. “But how can you convince him to stay? What are you going to do? Fill the breakroom pantries with gourmet coffee beans? Send out memos to everyone, threatening them to be on their best behaviour and to not bother Jihoon?”

“Yeah…” Seungcheol says, eyes lighting up as something close to hope begins to blossom in his chest. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’ll do!”

Jeonghan’s face shutters a bit, and he watches Seungcheol with careful eyes.

“I’m not sure this is going to work, Cheolie…”

“No, it will. If…If Jihoonie is happy here, then he won’t leave. I just have to get rid of everything he doesn’t like, and make sure he feels…good and comfortable here. It’ll all work out.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Hopping off the desk, Jeonghan saunters around – stepping over the fallen paperwork, keyboard, and colourful pens littering the floor – and makes his way towards the door. “If you need help, just ask. I’ll just add it to your life-long debt to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seungcheol says, eyes distant as he’s no doubt thinking of all the ways he can make Jihoon feel happy and good and comfortable here. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good luck, Cheolie,” Jeonghan sing-songs before letting himself out. It’s only once Seungcheol’s office door clicks shut behind him that he lets himself smirk in self-satisfaction.


-x-


Hansol’s camera shutter goes off just as Chan goes cross-eyed, trying to look at the spot of cream from his breakfast pastry decorating the tip of his nose.

“Hey!” The intern cries out in mock-rage. Swiping the bit of cream off his nose, he reaches forward and smushes the offending white froth onto Hansol’s laughing face. The blonde photographer only laughs harder at this; his face practically glows in gleeful happiness, and the streak of frosting decorating his cheek only adds to his joyous countenance.

“The worst,” Chan mutters with a small smile after Hansol calms down. Still chortling lightly, Hansol looks through his camera feed. The boyish grin on his face only widens when he gets to the picture of his younger friend.

“You look cute,” he says, equal parts teasing and earnest. Turning the camera over, Hansol shows Chan the picture. The younger man only snorts before stuffing a piece of his pastry into Hansol’s laughing mouth.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Chan says with fond exasperation. Reaching out and gently plucking the camera from Hansol’s willing fingers, Chan flips through the many photographs that Hansol has taken. The blonde photographer seems to take a picture of every occasion; even the most mundane things would make it onto his camera roll. From hideous pictures of Chan, to pictures of the daytime sky; from pictures of steaming mugs of coffee, to a shot of a brown sparrow flying overhead; Hansol’s itching fingers seem to feel the need to document every little thing that occurs. Despite the multitude of photographs, however, none of them lack in quality. They’re all carefully taken, and the attention Hansol puts into each shot is obvious in the clear and beautiful way they come out.

“You really like taking pictures, huh?” Chan murmurs, more to himself than anyone else, as his eyes linger on a long shot of a lapping sea. He silently wonders where Hansol was when he took this picture, and carefully soaks in the details of the greenish-blue waves and the way they seem to come to life on the tiny camera screen.

“I’d be pretty miserable here if I didn’t,” Hansol says, shooting the intern a smile. Chan flips to a picture of a quaint, little rosebush, and impudently clucks his tongue at the older man in response.

“Well just look at Seungcheol-hyung and Jihoon-hyung. They’re two perfect examples of people who hate their jobs, but still cling to them.”

Hansol just laughs and reaches out to break another bit of Chan’s pastry. Tossing the bite of sweet into his mouth, he continues amidst his chewing: “I’m sure they’re just exaggerating for effect. There’s no way Seungcheol-hyung and Jihoon-hyung hate it here that much. Sometimes I even think they might like it here a little bit.”

Reaching out with a napkin and brush aside the stray crumbs clinging onto the corners of Hansol’s upturned lips, Chan says affectionately: “Better not let the two of them find out you’ve figured them out; they might resort to doing something ridiculous just to spite you.”

“Mmm, now I kinda want to know what they’ll do.”

“Probably barricade themselves in their offices and let this entire place burn down or something equally dramatic.”

Hansol snorts inelegantly. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to actually start looking for a new job then.”

“Unnecessary,” Chan lets his lips unfurl into a small smirk. “After all, I’ll still be here, and we all know that I’m the real person holding this circus together.”

When Hansol laughs, he throws his entire body into it; this time he almost flings himself off his chair from the force of his cackling. It’s only his firm grip on Chan’s lower arm that stops him from tumbling onto the floor in an ungraceful heap of limbs and amusement.

“I can’t believe everyone here still thinks you’re some innocent child,” Hansol manages to make out through his gasping chuckles. Chan just pats him back in an attempt to calm him down, and the wide, impish smile on his face matches Hansol’s.

“But I am,” he says, all bright-eyed and genuine, and his amplified act of innocence only encourages Hansol to laugh even harder. “I’ve never ordered a stripper here before, I’ve never made out with anyone in our photocopying room, and I’ve never even attempted to remove someone’s garter in the breakroom. I mean, our office would probably still be infested with goats if it wasn’t for me, Hansol-hyung.”

Hansol’s laughter slowly tapers off, and Chan pushes the rest of the pastry towards his friend before continuing to go through Hansol’s pictures. Thumbing to another photograph, Chan takes in the shot of a grey, nondescript sidewalk, splattered with droplets of rain and streaked with muddied footprints. There’s nothing really special about the picture, and Chan wonders why this image is worth preserving.

“You take a lot of pictures, hyung,” Chan says, tracing the wet trails crisscrossing the murky asphalt with curious eyes.

Hansol just shrugs, the bright smile previously on his face taking a quieter quality. “There’s a lot of things worth capturing,” is his simple response, and Chan hums lightly.

“How did you get into photography, hyung?”

Hansol falls silent, his face taking on an expression that Chan now recognizes is his look of contemplation. Letting the older man think, Chan just continues going through the camera feed, letting his knees bump against the other’s in a small act of camaraderie.

After a moment, Hansol begins talking, his voice vaguely distant as he recalls and attempts to reconstruct his thoughts into palpable sentences. Chan just remains patient as Hansol slowly says: “I have a bad habit of…letting things just pass me by, I guess. Like, things just happen around me and I just let it come and go without really thinking about it. And I’m—I’m starting to realize that while it’s good to enjoy things in the moment, I also need to be careful about things just…slipping through my fingers.” Hansol pauses then, and Chan watches as a small furrow makes itself known between the photographer’s eyebrows. The young intern simply lets their elbows brush together. “Pictures…pictures help keep things alive in my memories,” Hansol continues after a moment. “They’re good reminders of the things you need to learn to appreciate in the moment, but also of the things you need to continue to appreciate afterwards as well. I mean, sometimes memories are all you have left, you know? I don’t want my memories to fade away; I want to learn to hold onto the things that make me happy. Pictures—they can’t replace those things, but they’re good reminders of everything that make me who I am.”

There’s another stretch of silence as Chan slowly digests everything Hansol just said, before the older man shrugs with a small, self-deprecating grin.

“Did any of that make sense?”

“I understand,” Chan says with a gentle grin, and Hansol’s face softens into something warmer.

“Good,” is all he says, before taking the last bit of pastry and stuffing the entire thing into his mouth. His cheeks bulge out at the action, and Chan is quick to whip up Hansol’s camera and take a photo of the sight.

Hansol’s eyes widen in a mix of shock and betrayal, and he’s quick to chew and swallow his mouthful of food. 

“Revenge,” Chan laughs, and Hansol snorts along at the infectious sound. “And hey, you look super cute here, Hansol-hyung,” the intern continues, twisting the camera around to show Hansol the hamster-like image of himself. Hansol lets out a bark of laughter at the picture, his canines on full display, and Chan just beams in return at how happy the other looks.

“Make sure to send this picture to me later, okay, hyung?” Chan says. “I want to remember your silly face forever.”

“Yeah, fine,” Hansol says, and Chan just reaches out to brush off more crumbs on his hyung’s face.

The elevator doors open just as Chan is tossing the now-dirty napkin into the waste basket, and a delivery man steps in with two, huge crates rolling alongside him.

“Morning,” the delivery man says once he steps up to Chan’s desk.

“Good morning,” Chan chirps in response, making sure his smile is extra bright and happy. Hansol snorts quietly beside him, and Chan discretely steps on his foot under the desk, smile only brightening further at the photographer’s muffled yelp.

“I have a delivery for one Choi Seungcheol-ssi?” The delivery man continues, completely oblivious to Hansol’s poor toes. Chan tilts his head in acknowledgement.

“Okay. Can I please see the delivery forms first?”

“Yeah, here.” Reaching out, Chan flips through the few pages, making sure everything is in order (mainly making sure that this is a legitimate package and not one that contains strippers; boss’s orders). Humming to himself, he suddenly pauses as his eyes reach the words: 750 POUNDS GOURMET COLOMBIAN BLACK COFFEE BEANS.

Stifling his sigh, Chan just shoots another bright smile at the delivery man.

“I’ll just call him out here to sign off on the delivery!”

Despite his brilliant acting chops, Chan can’t completely stifle the look of utter exasperation on his face when he pokes his head into Seungcheol’s office to announce “You have a whole lot of coffee beans waiting out front for you, hyung!”


-x-


“Hey,” Wonwoo says, somehow magically materializing beside Junhui’s desk.

“Wonwoo!” Junhui says, shooting his friend a beatific smile. Wonwoo’s own face softens into a smile in return as Junhui continues: “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. I was just wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me at the café? I feel like I haven’t treated you to anything recently.”  

“You don’t have to treat me to stuff, silly,” Junhui says with a fond little shake of his head. He still dutifully closes his laptop screen and gets up, letting his arm loop around Wonwoo’s before dragging his younger friend towards the elevator though.

“But if it’ll make you happy,” Junhui continues with a slightly mischievous smile on his face, “I’ll let you treat me this time. I’ve really been craving their deluxe BLT sandwich and matcha chai tea lately.”

“Subtle, Jun,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes as the elevator doors open.

Junhui just sticks his tongue out in response.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”




“So, you and Minghao…” Wonwoo trails off, shooting a meaningful look at Junhui who’s busy taking a long sip of his matcha chai tea.

“Mmhmm,” the Chinese man hums semi-bashfully, placing down his cup, and Wonwoo just lets out a soft huff of laughter at his friend’s shy display.

“Hey,” he says, leaning forward to poke at Junhui’s cheek. Junhui turns around to playfully nip at Wonwoo’s prodding fingers, and the younger man pinches the soft skin of Junhui’s cheek in retaliation. “I’m happy for you,” Wonwoo continues over Junhui’s soft cry of “mean”. Leaning back on his chair, Wonwoo fiddles with his own cup of coffee and adds: “I was starting to get tired of watching the two of you circle each other.”

“HaoHao told me he liked me for years,” Junhui confesses, and Wonwoo watches the way his friend practically glows at the mere thought. “Since university.”

“Yeah, he used to get pretty crazy over you,” Wonwoo says before leaning forward as if to divulge a secret. It’s only once Junhui follows suit that Wonwoo continues. “Remember how he used to go to the gym whenever he was feeling particularly frustrated or angry? Well, he broke at least five punching bags there while you were dating Heonwoo.”

“Really?” Junhui’s eyes are wide as he takes in Wonwoo’s words. “But he never seemed jealous or angry when we hung out together.”

“Probably because he cares about you too much to ever take out his frustrations on you,” Wonwoo states all matter-of-factly, and Junhui’s ears take on a pink tint even as he smiles softly at his hands.

“You’re embarrassing,” Junhui says, and Wonwoo scoffs in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m embarrassing,” he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee before asking: “Are you happy, Junnie?”

“Yes,” Junhui says, earnest and truthful and practically brimming with contentment. Wonwoo smiles, feeling lighter than he has in a while at the sight of Junhui’s obvious happiness.

“Good, I’m glad.” Sighing gently, Wonwoo’s tiny grin melts away into a small frown, and he softly contemplates: “Sometimes I think that…that Mingyu and I must have scared Minghao off of being with you.”

Junhui’s own smile twists into a disapproving frown, and he reaches out to hold Wonwoo’s hand even as he lightly admonishes him with a “Don’t be silly, Wonwoo-ah.”

Wonwoo just shrugs. “It makes sense.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Junhui says with an uncharacteristically ferocious bite in his voice. “I’m with HaoHao now, and I—I just want you to be happy as well.”

“Are you happy, Junnie?” Wonwoo asks again, the question familiar but no less sincere as it rolls off his tongue.

Junhui’s entire posture softens, and he’s smiling gently as he repeats: “Yes.”

“Then I’m happy too,” Wonwoo promises.

Junhui just smiles and continues to hold onto Wonwoo’s hand even as a waitress brings over their deluxe BLT sandwich and mushroom risotto.


-x-


Joshua is walking past the breakroom when Seungcheol’s voice suddenly calls out from within.

“Joshua! I need help!”

Poking his head into the room, Joshua is met with the sight of his boss standing in the middle of the floor while surrounded by five ridiculously large bags of coffee beans.

“Seungcheol, why,” is all Joshua manages to say before Seungcheol is cutting over him with a frantic: “I can’t fit these bags into the pantries, Joshua.”

Joshua just stares at the older man for a long, long while before sighing and stepping fully into the room.

“Can’t you just leave the bags on the counters or the table?” Joshua suggests gently when Seungcheol’s eyes don’t lose any of their frantic sheen. “You don’t have to stuff them in the pantries, Seungcheol.”

“But…but pantries stuffed with coffee beans,” Seungcheol says, looking down at the five bags resting around his feet. “It’s part of my plan…”

Joshua sighs again, somehow already feeling Jeonghan’s influence all over this mess. “Plan?” He prods in his usual soft-spoken voice.

Seungcheol fidgets a bit on the spot, biting his bottom lip in a familiar display of nervousness, before he shakes his head slowly. “No, nevermind. I just—I just thought it was about time to restock our supply of coffee.”

“But five one-hundred-and-fifty pound bags of gourmet Colombian premium coffee beans, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol fidgets a bit more. “I’ve been craving fancier coffee.”

“Whatever you say, Seungcheol,” Joshua says before moving forward and leaning down to scoop up one of the heavy bags. “Let’s just move these onto the table, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s when Joshua picks up the fourth bag that a loud dribbling sound begins to fill up the room. The two of them look down to see a stream of coffee beans falling out of the hole from the bottom of the bag slung over Joshua’s shoulders.

Seungcheol practically screeches, and Joshua immediately puts the bag back down onto the floor.

“Hey, hey! It’s alright. It’s okay, Seungcheol. It’s just a few beans, okay? The floor’s pretty clean anyway; we can just…tape the bottom of the bag and throw the beans back inside, how’s that?”

Seungcheol just releases a pitiful moan.


-x-


“Hey,” Hansol announces himself while Chan is busy sending out a few faxes. “I have something for you.”

“Yeah?” Chan asks, still focused on his task.

“Yeah,” is all Hansol says, before he suddenly sticks his hand in front of Chan’s face. The young intern leans back in surprise, blinking in slight disorientation as his eyes refocus onto the picture held in Hansol’s hand. The blonde photographer’s familiar, bulging face greets him, and Chan lets out a loose peal of surprised laughter.

“You printed it out for me?” Chan asks – faxing forgotten – as he gently plucks the photograph from Hansol’s willing fingers.

“Sometimes it’s nicer to have the physical thing,” Hansol says with his familiar boyish smile, and Chan runs careful fingers over glossy picture.

“Thanks, Hansol-hyung.” Leaning over, he lets their arms bump against each other, and Hansol just chuckles at the comfortable gesture. “I’m going to put this in my wallet so I can see your silly face all the time.”

“Yeah, well. It’s yours,” Hansol shrugs before grinning in an impishly teasing manner. “Maybe I’ll print out your picture and put it in my wallet too.”

“You’re lucky I like you, hyung,” Chan says again, and Hansol’s mischievous smile smooths out into something more sincere.

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky.”

Chan just smiles and turns back to his faxing.


-x-


“Am I the only one who just received a creepily cryptic email from Seungcheol-hyung?” Seungkwan suddenly pipes up from his desk.

“The one about how we have to leave Jihoon-hyung alone and be on our best behaviour for the next unforeseeable future?” Minghao asks, eyes never leaving his laptop screen and fingers not stopping in their typing.

“Oh, thank god,” Seungkwan says, slumping back into his seat before perking up again. “I thought he was just targeting me, which would have been crazy offensive since we all know I’m not the worst offender in this place.”

“I take offense to that!” Soonyoung calls from his desk. Seokmin, sitting beside him, nods solemnly in agreement.

“I didn’t even call you out.”

“And yet, I still heard the implications in your voice,” Soonyoung says sagely. Seungkwan just rolls his eyes.

“Not everything’s about you, okay, Soonyoung-hyung?” Seungkwan says in a semi-mockingly biting tone. Soonyoung gasps dramatically at Seungkwan’s words and clutches his heart in disbelief.

“How could you disrespect me so? And after I took you under my wing, too!”

“I want a refund please,” is Seungkwan’s sugary sweet response, and Minghao snorts in amusement at the exchange.

“Is Seungcheol-hyung okay?” Mingyu pipes up, effectively cutting through Seungkwan and Soonyoung’s playful banter. “He’s been acting kind of…weird lately.”

“Well he’s not the only one,” Seungkwan says with a pointed look in Mingyu’s direction at the same time Seokmin chirps up with a bright: “Is hyung ever really okay, though?”

“Cheolie’s fine,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly, successfully saving a flushed Mingyu from having to respond to Seungkwan. “He’s just starting to realize a few things about himself. This is just another stage of his ongoing crisis; don’t worry too much.”

“Jeonghan,” Joshua groans from across the blonde journalist, and Jeonghan just shoots Joshua an affectionate smile.

“Cheolie will be fine,” he reassures Joshua one more time. Before the brown-haired columnist can open his mouth to continue voicing his concerns, Jihoon’s office door opens and said editor pokes his head out.

“Hey,” he says, hanging around his doorway. “Did Seungcheol-hyung just send out a mass email about leaving me alone?”

There’s a pause before Minghao’s amused snort cuts through the suspended silence of the office. Seungkwan gets up and mutters something about needing more coffee while everyone else (sans Jeonghan who’s smirking with unabashed glee) just gapes unattractively at the blonde editor as his words catch up to them.

“Oh, Cheolie,” Jeonghan tsks in an amused voice.

Joshua just sighs and turns back to his computer monitor even as Jihoon continues squinting suspiciously at all of them.


-x-


“Jun!” Wonwoo calls from his office. It takes a few moments before Junhui is sticking his head into the editor’s office, and the smile he shoots the younger man is bright and happy.

“Wonwoo-ah!” Junhui chirps in response. Slipping into the office, he plops down onto the seat opposite Wonwoo and continues beaming at his friend. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Wonwoo says, and it’s not a lie – not even a little bit. Tossing down a copy of tomorrow’s horoscopes down onto the desk, Wonwoo tilts his head and says: “Thanks, Junnie.”

Junhui’s eyes are especially tender even as he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Wonwoo agrees easily enough. Reaching forward, he grabs Junhui’s hand in his. “Do you want to go out for dinner tonight? I’ve been craving pork ramen recently. It’ll be my treat.”

“Silly,” Junhui clucks his tongue at the bespectacled man even as his fingers tighten their hold on the younger’s. “You already treated me to lunch today. If anything, I’m going to treat you to dinner, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Wonwoo says, smile soft and eyes affectionate as he regards the Chinese man. “We’ll head out after work; does that sound alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later, Wonwoo-ah.” Junhui gets up from his seat, fingers gently untangling from the editor’s, before he bounces towards the door. Before he slips back out, he turns around and says in an unbearably earnest voice: “I love you, Wonwoo.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies. If nothing else, he can always be confident in Junhui’s constant presence and companionship. “You too.”

Junhui shoots him one last smile before slipping away, and Wonwoo’s eyes drift back down onto tomorrow’s horoscope column. Lingering on the page, Wonwoo’s takes in the words Hello Cancers! I know things have seemed really difficult lately, and sometimes you feel scared and sad and lonely, but please remember that you’re not alone. You’re surrounded by people who love you. Don’t ever be afraid to talk to your friends about your troubles. If you ever feel alone, just pick up your phone and give your friends a call! They’ll always be happy to sit with you until you start feeling happy again. And you will feel happier again; trust me, nothing bad lasts forever, and soon you’ll be smiling once more!

Reading Junhui’s words, Wonwoo feels his lips curl up into the genuine smile, and he closes his eyes and just focuses on this feeling of calm spreading through his chest.

Nothing bad lasts forever, he thinks to himself. Soon…soon…


-x-


“Jihoon,” Seungcheol opens the editor’s door and steps inside the moment he receives a Come in from inside. “I have something for you.”

Jihoon’s head pops up from where he had been curled over a few documents, and the editor runs a hand through his shock of blonde locks before removing the round, thin-wired glasses from his face.

“Seungcheol-hyung,” he says with a small smile. “You have something for me?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol says, stepping further into the room before brandishing his gift from behind his back. He places a new French press onto Jihoon’s desk, and the editor gapes at the present for a moment before glancing back up at his boss.

“Do you like it?” Seungcheol asks after Jihoon fails to respond in any kind of way.

“I…yeah, hyung. I really—thanks, you didn’t have to though,” Jihoon stutters for a moment before slumping down in his seat. He rubs at the bridge of his nose before gesturing for the older man to take a seat. It’s only once Seungcheol’s sitting down that he continues: “Seungcheol-hyung. What the hell’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Seungcheol asks with big, innocuous eyes, but Jihoon doesn’t fall for the act.

“I mean…I really like the French press, and the Colombian coffee beans are fantastic, so thank you for that. But—what’s going on?” Before Seungcheol can offer any more protests, Jihoon quickly adds: “Don’t even think about denying anything. I saw that email you sent out, which reminds me: you should be more careful when sending out emails, hyung.”

Seungcheol falls silent, and he can feel the way the blood rushes to his cheeks and nose. “Oops?” Is all he can say, and Jihoon sighs.

“Seriously, hyung, what’s going on? Did I do something?”

“No! Of course not! You’ve been great! I just—” Breaking off, Seungcheol’s words taper off into a thick silence, and he just sits there for a moment, avoiding Jihoon’s dark eyes. “I just…” Breathing in deeply, he gathers his courage before quickly blurting out: “Are you planning on quitting?”

Blinking in confusion, Jihoon tilts his head to the side. “Quitting? I’m always planning on quitting, hyung. You know this.”

When that fails to get the typical smile out of Seungcheol, Jihoon frowns in concern. “Seungcheol-hyung, where is this coming from?”

“I found a bunch of job ads on your desk a few days ago,” Seungcheol confesses, and he can see the comprehension light up in Jihoon’s eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, hyung,” Jihoon says with a roll of his eyes. Seungcheol flinches a bit, but the amused smirk that curls up on Jihoon’s lips softens the editor’s semi-harsh statement and reassures the elder that Jihoon isn't actually angry. “I’m not planning on quitting. I have a friend who’s looking for a new job and he needs a bit of help; the ads were for him.”

“Oh…”

“Were you seriously trying to bribe me into staying here?”

“I mean…if you really wanted to leave I wouldn’t actually stop you,” Seungcheol says, and the dread that had been lingering in his stomach finally dissipates. Seungcheol hadn’t even realized how apprehensive he was about Jihoon’s potential departure until now. Smiling a bit sheepishly, Seungcheol adds: “You pay union fees, after all.”

“You’re ridiculous, hyung,” Jihoon says with an amused shake of his head. “Look, I’m not planning on leaving any time soon, okay? I mean, you stocked up on so much coffee beans just for me, right? It’d be stupid of me to leave before finishing them.” When Seungcheol just continues smiling softly, Jihoon continues with a nonchalant: “We also had a deal, remember? I’m going to be sticking around for a while.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol says, and Jihoon just rolls his eyes one more time before reaching out to grab the French press.

“Wait,” Seungcheol suddenly pipes up, and Jihoon hums in response. “Does this mean I can actually return the coffee press if you’re not planning on leaving anyway?”

“You can’t take back something you gifted someone, Seungcheol-hyung. It’s bad manners.”

“Of course, Jihoonie,” Seungcheol relents with a small, cheeky smile before watching Jihoon carefully analyze his new coffee press with probing fingers and curious eyes. There’s a tiny, satisfied grin on the younger editor’s face, and Seungcheol somehow finds himself wanting to see that little smile on Jihoon’s face for the rest of forever. It’s as the younger man is playing with the coffee plunger that it suddenly hits Seungcheol all at once.

“Oh,” he breathes out.

Jihoon looks up with his dark, bottomless eyes, and it hits Seungcheol all over again.

“Oh,” he says once more.

“What the hell’s wrong with you now, hyung?” Jihoon demands more than asks, and Seungcheol just absentmindedly shakes his head in response.

“Nothing,” he manages to say through the rush of blood to his head. “Nothing’s wrong with me at all.”

Chapter Text

Seokmin ends up hitting the wrong window.

Iseul – Soonyoung’s lovely downstairs neighbour – pokes her head out into the cool, nighttime air and squints down at Seokmin through her thin, golden-wired frames.

“Seokmin?” She calls out. “Is that you?”

“Sorry, auntie!” Seokmin calls back, feeling genuinely abashed at having interrupted the older lady’s no doubt incredibly pleasant night-in. “I was trying to hit Soonyoung-hyung’s window. Sorry!”

Iseul only squints even more.

“Why are there a bunch of kids standing behind you?” is what she finally settles on, and Seokmin looks back as if to check that there really are a bunch of kids standing behind him. The children of the local parish’s youth choir all look back at him, blinking with innocence, and Seokmin shoots them all a reassuring smile before turning back towards Iseul.

“It’s a surprise for Soonyoung-hyung!”

Iseul lets out a hum, and a knowing glint appears in her eyes. Chuckling good-naturedly, she shakes her greying head and waves Seokmin off with an affectionate: “Aish, kids with their big romantic gestures these days. I’ll leave you to it then, Seokmin.”

“Good night, auntie.”

“Have a nice evening with Soonyoung.” With that, Iseul disappears back into her apartment and closes her window with a gentle click. Seokmin reaches down for another pebble and tosses it with greater precision this time.

It hits Iseul’s window again.

“Oh, oppa,” one of the kids sigh in exasperation behind him, and Seokmin flushes a little as Iseul pokes her head out again with an amused expression painted on her face.

“Sorry, auntie!” Seokmin fumbles, feeling a little flustered. “I just—I missed again. I’m going to…you know what, I’m just gonna go up there and knock on Soonyoung-hyung’s door like a proper gentleman.”

“It was a good attempt,” Iseul calls back down, and the dark-haired columnist just lets out a warm burst of laughter.

“Maybe I’ll get it next time,” he chirps happily before waving Iseul off once more. Turning back towards the twenty-three children gathered behind him, he says: “I’m going to go up there and grab Soonyoung-hyung. Just stay here, okay? It should only take a few minutes.”

“Make sure to knock on the right door, hyung,” one of the kids in the front says dryly, and Seokmin gasps in mock-offense.

“You’re like…five years old. Who taught you to be so sarcastic?”

“I’m twelve, hyung.”

“Alas,” Seokmin cries, dramatically clutching his heart and studiously ignoring the large, impudent eye-roll that the twelve year old child indulges in. “It’s too late for you, then.”

“Go, oppa.” A girl with plaited pigtails pipes up in a mixture of amused impatience. “And just ignore Minjae; he’s super immature.”

“Hurtful, Areum-noona!” Minjae cries out, and Areum just sticks out her tongue at the younger boy.

Seokmin laughs at the display before turning on his heel and bounding towards the entrance of the apartment building. Offering one last wave and a final “Stay there!” over his shoulder, he slips into the building.

Seokmin spends the seconds it takes waiting for the elevator fixing his cufflinks and straightening his slightly askew tie. The next few moments riding the elevator up to the third floor are spent simply breathing in and out; he feels strangely calm. The typical jitters he usually gets prior to a date are strangely absent. It’s an odd feeling, not being scared out of his mind for the impending night out – worried about how to present himself, worried about how he should behave, worried about being what the other person wants – but the moment he knocks on the door and Soonyoung’s smiling face greets him, Seokmin remembers just why this isn’t terrifying at all. Not even a little bit.

“Seokmin!” Soonyoung chirps in obvious delight before the younger man can even open his mouth. The elder’s wide smile broadens into something almost blinding in its beautiful intensity, and Seokmin just willingly embraces the other’s brightness. “I’m ready to get spoiled by you now.”

Seokmin knows the answering smile on his face is gentle and open, but there’s no fear in that vulnerability. Instead, he offers up an arm and drawls out a playfully grandiose: “My good sir, let us head out while the night is still young. We have many things to do; let’s not dally about!”

Soonyoung giggles happily and lets his hand rest on the crook of Seokmin’s arm. “I have been waiting all week for this night, my kind sir. I can’t wait to see the things you have planned.”

“You’re in for a treat, my dear. I have a surprise waiting out front for you.”

“Oh, well then let us hurry, Seokmin-ssi. I do love surprises.”

The two of them end up laughing for a good few minutes under the archway of Soonyoung’s front door, bodies leaning towards each other and face’s sporting twin expressions of scrunched up mirth. There’s something incredibly comforting about the feeling of warmth emanating from Soonyoung, and the sounds of their giggles twining together in an off-beat – yet no less beautiful – completed melody.

“I love you, hyung,” Seokmin reminds Soonyoung before they make their way towards the elevators.

Soonyoung just smiles, honest and affectionate and so, so bright.

“And I love you, Seokmin.”




The twenty-three children comprising of the local parish’s youth choir are standing exactly where Seokmin had left them, but the apartment building’s security guard had apparently decided to join them in their wait for Seokmin and Soonyoung to return.

“Oh no,” Seokmin mutters just as Soonyoung asks: “Is that the children’s choir from Joshua’s church?”

Seokmin turns towards Soonyoung with surprised eyes. “Yeah. How did you know, hyung?”

“Minjae’s in my Saturday contemporary dance classes.” Shooting the younger man a bemused smile, Soonyoung lets his hand tighten its hold on the crook of Seokmin’s arm just a little bit. “Is this my surprise, Seokmin? You want us to raise an entire brood of children together?”

“Please, hyung,” Seokmin rolls his eyes in mock-exasperation. Leaning over so their shoulders are jostling lightly together, he continues teasingly: “I’m a traditional kind of man. You gotta marry me first before we’re raising any children together. And the wedding’s gotta be spectacular; you promised four cakes, an all-you-can-eat-buffet, and a huge venue. I remember these things, hyung.”

“I thought we agreed that it’s alright to do things a little bit out-of-order,” Soonyoung muses with a deliberate contemplative look on his face, “considering we already raised Soonseok together.”

“Well you got me there.” Quickly replacing his bright smile with a solemn expression, Seokmin pitches his voice low and looks at Soonyoung with dark, serious eyes. “If you want these kids, hyung, they’re yours. I’ll battle their parents to the death in order to get them for you.”

Soonyoung gasps dramatically, letting his other hand come up in order to wrap himself around one of Seokmin’s arms. “Seokmin,” he breathes out like some damsel in a Hollywood medieval movie. “You would do that for me?”

“I would fight Jihoon-hyung in a pit for you if that's what you wanted, Soonyoung-hyung.”

“He’d rip you to shreds,” Soonyoung whispers, and Seokmin just nods sagely.

“Anything for you, hyung,” Seokmin promises, his earnest declaration wrapped under layers of playfulness. The way Soonyoung’s eyes soften, however, tells the younger man that the elder can hear the truthfulness in his proclamation.

“Hey,” the security guard suddenly calls out, effectively interrupting them before Soonyoung can respond to his dongsaeng’s words. “Are these your kids?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out right now,” Seokmin calls back jovially even as he makes his way across the yard. Soonyoung continues holding onto the younger man’s arm, and he shoots the children a wide smile and offers them a playful wave.

“Hi, Soonyoung-hyung,” Minjae pipes up from where he’s standing beside Areum.

“Hi, Minjae!” Soonyoung says happily. “Fancy seeing you here. Are you ready for next week’s showcase?”

“Nope,” Minjae says, not even bothering to sound enthused.

“Well I’m sure you’re going to do great!” Soonyoung says, enthusiastic enough for the both of them.

“Okay, so you can’t just let your kids loiter around here,” the security guard says, effectively cutting through the little side-conversation occurring before him. “This is private property; you have to take your party somewhere else.”

“Good evening, Laon-ssi!” Soonyoung chirps, and the security guards tips his head forward in a respectful manner.

“Evening, Soonyoung-ssi.”

“Can you please just let us stay here for a little bit and overlook this incident, just this once?” Soonyoung starts. When a frown starts pulling down at the corners of Laon’s lips, Soonyoung continues wheedling: “Come on, Laon-ssi. Just this once. I mean, Seokmin planned out this entire thing for me, and it would be really unfortunate if he can’t see this through, you know?”

“It’s also our first date together,” Seokmin adds.

Laon stands there, remaining totally unmoved.

“Seokmin-hyung was really nervous,” one of the younger kids pipes up. “He kept throwing rocks at the wrong windows.”

“You were throwing rocks?” Laon asks in disbelief, and Seokmin quickly shushes the child with a finger to his lips. Turning towards the security guard, the columnist offers the older man a sheepish smile.

“They weren’t exactly rocks…”

“They were pebbles,” Minjae amends for Seokmin, and Soonyoung valiantly attempts to muffle his laughter while his dongsaeng covers his face with his hands.

“In my defense,” he says, peeking through the open gaps of his fingers at Laon’s completely unimpressed face. “Soonyoung-hyung’s window is really high up.”

“I do live at a ridiculous altitude,” Soonyoung nods in agreement. Shooting Seokmin a soft smile, he adds playfully: “I’m basically like Rapunzel. Waiting in my tower of terror for my prince to come rescue me.”

“And come I have—”

“Okay,” Laon says, quickly interrupting Seokmin. “I’ll let you guys do what you have to do. But just this once. I don’t want his to be a reoccurring thing, got it?”

“Thank you so much, Laon-ssi,” Seokmin says with a wide smile. He offers the older man a quick bow, which the security guard just waves off with a small shake of his head.

“I’m giving you guys five minutes, so make it snappy.”

“Alright, you heard the good man,” Seokmin says, jumping into action. All the kids quickly go into formation with practiced ease, and Seokmin slides in front of them. Positioning Soonyoung just a bit away from the choir, he smiles softly at his hyung.

“This is where your spoiling starts, Soonyoung-hyung,” he declares. Laon shoots the two of them a suspicious look, but Seokmin successfully ignores it in favour of turning back to the kids assembled behind him.

“You kids ready?” He asks. At the various nods and murmurs of assent, Seokmin presses a button on his phone before turning back to face a beaming Soonyoung. Something that sounds suspiciously like a church hymn begins echoing through the lamp-lit yard. The music swells up a bit before Seokmin, along with the children’s choir, begin to belt their lungs out.

“Wherever you go, I will go. Wherever you dwell, I will dwell. I have loved you through all these years. And for the rest of my years, I will love you still. Wherever you go, I will go. Wherever you dwell, I will dwell. You make me happier than I ever knew was possible. I will do my best to make you just as happy. Wherever you go, I will go. Wherever you dwell, I will dwell. God knows I don’t ever want to be without you. I will make sure to do my best, so the day where I have to be without you will never come.”

The music slowly dwindles down, until only the distant sound of traffic reaches their ears once more. The silence is broken by a happy bark of laughter from Soonyoung. Laughing and clapping all the same, Soonyoung rushes towards Seokmin and throws his arms around the younger man’s waist. Seokmin, chuckling in return, gathers his hyung to his chest and nuzzles the top of the older man’s head in a familiar and comfortable gesture.

“That was amazing. I love it, Seokmin.” Pulling back so he can look into the younger man’s eyes, Soonyoung breaks into another round of pleased laughter. “I love you, Seokmin.”

“And I love you, hyung,” Seokmin responds, eyes curved up in happiness, and Soonyoung is quick to nuzzle back into the younger man’s embrace.

“Was that the Song of Ruth?” Iseul suddenly asks. Twenty-six pairs of eyes swivel up to see the elderly lady hanging out of her window.

“Yeah,” Seokmin responds, bright and excited. “Did you like it, auntie?”

“It was lovely,” the older lady replies, just as Laon mutters an incredulous: “You just changed a church hymn into a love song?”

“Yep!” Seokmin chirps, turning around to shoot Laon a characteristically sunny beam. “I think it turned out fantastic. Great job, guys!”

“We still want our money, oppa,” Areum says, and Seokmin sends her a playful wink.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you guys in a bit. You all deserve it!”

“Even if we didn’t deserve it, you’d still have to pay us, hyung,” Minjae says with another impudent eye-roll, and Soonyoung gasps in mock-rage at the disrespectful gesture on Seokmin’s behalf.

“Minjae,” Soonyoung says in the most melodramatic tone possible. “You look at your mother with those eyeballs?”

“Yeah, hyung. It’s kinda the only way I can look at her.”

“Beaten by an eight year old child. What is the world coming to?”

“I’m twelve, hyung.”

“An infant!” Soonyoung shakes his head in woe, arms tightening their hold around Seokmin, and Seokmin just laughs in amusement, his chuckles semi-smothered in the inky black strands of Soonyoung’s hair.

“Okay, and five minutes are up,” Laon says, practically herding them away. “Get off the property now. Off you guys go. No more loitering around; my generosity has reached its limit for tonight. Off you go.”

“Bye auntie!” Seokmin calls up to Iseul, who’s still hanging outside her window and watching everything happen below with twinkling eyes.

“Goodnight boys. Have a nice evening.” Sending them off with a wink, Iseul slips back into her warm apartment and closes the window.

“You’ve already set a high bar for yourself, Seokmin,” Soonyoung whispers conspiratorially to the younger as they’re making their way back to the parish in order to drop off the children. “I’m expecting to have the pants spoiled off of me tonight.”

“You’ll be pantless by midnight, hyung. I promise,” is Seokmin’s answer.

Soonyoung’s responding laughter is loud and squeaky; Seokmin has never loved a sound more.


-x-


“I honestly did not expect your date nights to involve couples’ cooking classes. Next you’ll tell me you guys go to salsa classes as well.”

“While I personally have nothing against salsa,” Jeonghan begins while deftly tying his baby blue apron around his waist, “Joshua and I are a classy couple; we went waltzing last week.”

“Classy couple,” Seungcheol mutters under his breath. “The only classy thing about the two of you is Joshua. He honestly elevates your entire demonic being into something that actually vaguely resembles a human.”

“Wow, we have a comedian here tonight. Make way everyone; Cheolie has a few good jokes up his sleeves. Make sure to laugh when he tells them; he probably spent weeks coming up with them. We don’t want to hurt his feelings now, do we?”

“You are actually the worst,” Seungcheol groans, and Jeonghan just sends him a flirty wink in response. “I can’t believe you ruined my Saturday evening by dragging me here, to a couples’ cooking class, with you of all people.”

“Oh? Is there someone else you’d rather attend a couples’ cooking class with?” Jeonghan asks with fake innocence plastered all over his face, and Seungcheol just looks down at the large, bright green mixing bowl before him and mutters indecipherably under his breath.

Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan reaches over and only semi-mockingly pats the older man’s shoulder.

“Look, Cheolie. I would also honestly rather have Joshua here with me and not you. However, they were running low on volunteers at the soup kitchen so he got called in. Just don’t think of this as a couples’ cooking class; think of it as a chance to sharpen your skills in the kitchen in case you ever need to impress someone with them. Hopefully in the near future.”

Seungcheol frowns, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening in confusion. “What do you mean? Why would I need to do that?”

Jeonghan just outright scoffs at his face. “I’m sure even an emotionally-stunted pigeon like you can figure it out, Cheolie, for goodness’ sake.”

“Why do you always have to talk in riddles?”

“Why do you always have to be so stupid?”

“Hello everyone!” A happy, plump woman walks into the room with a bright, frilly pink apron wrapped around her waist and a wide smile painted across her laughing lips. “I hope you’re all ready to create a full five-course meal. Don’t worry; we’ll have a lot of fun together creating these dishes!”

Seungcheol glares at Jeonghan amidst the agreeable titters that fill the pastel-coloured room, and the blonde journalist only smirks at him in return.


-x-


“Junhui…” Minghao begins, fingers gently running through the older man’s dark hair as they lounge together on the elder’s couch. Junhui hums in response, the quietly content noise pressed tight against the hollow of Minghao’s neck, and the younger Chinese man sighs, dropping a soft kiss onto the crown of Junhui’s head. “Do you still make scrapbooks?” He asks, after another moment spent dozing against each other.

“Mmm…” Junhui stretches a bit, mouth opening in a kittenish yawn, and Minghao leans in to press another kiss against the sharp edge of the older man’s jawline. Junhui laughs softly, fingers brushing against the soft flesh of Minghao’s cheek as he says: “No, not really. I just don’t have enough time.”

“I remember how happy it made you, making scrapbooks,” Minghao says, and Junhui just shrugs a bit.

“I would like to start making them again,” Junhui muses, hands coming up to rest on Minghao’s shoulders as he shuffles around a bit, making himself comfortable on top of the younger man. “But I’m just busy with other things right now. I’ll start making them again once I have more free time.”

“You can make them now,” Minghao says. He hates the thought of Junhui going without doing the things he loves; all Junhui needs are tiny things to make him happy, and this is such a small thing. “I’ll make them with you.”

Junhui’s mouth drops open into a tiny ‘o’, and a familiar kind of happiness begins blossoming in his pretty eyes.

“Really?” He asks in that way he does when he already knows the answer. His fingers play along the shape of Minghao’s collarbone in a strange mixture of confident uncertainty, and Minghao just draws the other man impossibly closer.

“Yeah,” he agrees, easy and honest in the face of Junhui’s happiness. “I’ve been wanting to make scrapbooks lately anyway.”

“No you haven’t,” Junhui says with a pleased smile curling along the soft edges of his lips.

“No I haven’t,” Minghao amends. “I still want to make them with you though.”

Junhui giggles and presses a kiss against Minghao’s mouth. They lie there in an intertwined embrace for a moment, simply swapping soft kisses and even gentler caresses. Finally pulling away from Minghao’s lips, Junhui says: “We can make one for our first year together as a couple. It will be our couple thing: scrapbooking.”

“Wahhh, we’re such an exciting couple,” Minghao says dryly, head lolling along the arm of the couch and eyes half-lidded as he watches the elder.

Swatting playfully at Minghao’s chest, Junhui teases the younger with a “We can go boxing together as well if you want.”

“Boxing and scrapbooking. No one can ever accuse us of being boring.”

Laughing, Junhui lets his fingers brush Minghao’s bangs back. Tracing the shape of the younger man’s eyebrow, he thoughtfully looks up at the ceiling and murmurs: “I think I still have those pictures of that boxing match you participated in during your second year.”

They quickly end up buried under Junhui’s enormous scrapbook collection.


-x-


“—and if you take a quick look to your left, you will see the beautiful canal. It freezes over in the winter, allowing people to skate there.”

“We should do that!” Soonyoung chirps, his hands still looped around the crook of Seokmin’s elbow as they meander along the canal.

“What, go skating?” Seokmin asks, dropping the previous tour-guide tone his voice had taken, and letting a bit of his apprehension bleed through. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, hyung.”

“Aww, don’t be scared, Seokmin. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

“Oh, well in that case…” Seokmin trails off and the two of them break into happy guffaws. Continuing along, Seokmin’s previous carefree happiness dissipates at what he sees.

The boat rental area is closed, with a sign proclaiming the rapidly cooling weather as the cause of its closure. Seokmin freezes at the sight as something finally close to anxiety makes itself known in his stomach.

“Seokmin?” Soonyoung asks at his elbow, his eyes flickering over his dongsaeng’s face in worried confusion before moving quickly towards the closed store. “Oh…” He breathes out before leaning closer to the younger man again.

“Hey, Seokmin?”

“Well so much for spoiling you…” Seokmin murmurs, gnawing on his bottom lip as he quickly goes through his options. A light pinch to his side causes him to jump with a sharp yelp, and he looks back to meet Soonyoung’s semi-stern face.

“Don’t be silly, Seokmin,” Soonyoung admonishes him lightly before his vaguely severe expression melts into its usual soft affability. “Every moment with you is a moment where I’m getting spoiled.”

“Hyung…” Seokmin says, before Soonyoung is tugging him along by the crook of his elbow.

“Now come on,” the elder is demanding while tugging insistently at Seokmin’s arm. “Let’s just keep walking along the canal. I was having a lot of fun with my private tour guide.”

Seokmin’s laugh is a bit breathless, and he looks after Soonyoung with something close to wonder in his eyes.

“Private tour guide at your service, Soonyoung-ssi,” he manages to say through the familiar awe filling his veins.

Soonyoung’s smile is at least fifty times as bright as the moon’s ethereal glow.


-x-


Seungkwan freezes when he hears Hansol’s familiar voice quietly asking for a “bacon cheeseburger combo to go please, with a Coca-Cola and onion rings, thanks.”

Head popping up from where he had been bent over the tiny screen of his phone, Seungkwan gapes unattractively as the younger man pays for his order, evidently not having noticed Seungkwan at all. The blonde journalist debates running out of the tiny shop – thirteen dollar burger be damned – as Hansol makes his way towards where Seungkwan is waiting for his meal. The photographer has his headphones placed securely in his ears, and his head is bopping along to the beat of whatever garbage song he’s probably listening to as he fiddles with his iPod. However, the choice to bolt or not to bolt is made for Seungkwan as Hansol finally looks up from his mp3 player. He can see the way the younger man’s eyes widen in recognition, and – almost in a Pavlovian reaction – Seungkwan’s lips immediately twist down into an ugly scowl.

“Hey, Seungkwan,” Hansol says, evidently immune to Seungkwan’s dirty looks by now. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for my food, obviously,” Seungkwan bites out. Hansol doesn’t even flinch at the venom lacing through the other’s words. “What did you think I was doing here?”

Hansol shrugs, and – much to Seungkwan’s chagrin – he slips into the free seat beside the scowling blonde. “I don’t know,” he says after settling in. “You could have been waiting for a date or something.”

“Yeah? And why does it matter to you if I was or not?”

“It doesn’t. I mean, it’s your life,” Hansol says, the words apparently slipping off his tongue with ease. Seungkwan can’t help the way he flinches back at how easy it is for the other to disown any concern he may have for him; something messy and indecipherable and painful in its confusion rises up in Seungkwan’s chest, buoyed by Hansol’s presence and kept further afloat by Seungkwan’s own apparent inability to let this go. And so, he focuses on the anger still thrumming in his veins, because anger is a lot less scary than whatever it is that’s curling around his lungs.

“Yeah, and you made sure to cut yourself perfectly out of my life,” Seungkwan says, unnecessarily cruel and vicious in his attack. Hansol remains blank-faced, and it’s moments like these that make Seungkwan so scared, because Hansol is right there – right there – but somehow his mind is miles and miles away from him. Seungkwan remembers childishly asking the younger once: Are you still here with me? as they sat under a pale pink awning of an ice cream parlour. No matter how hard he tries though, he can’t remember Hansol’s answer.

“Yeah,” Hansol says now, voice hoarse, and Seungkwan swallows down his own bitterness.

Instead, he sits there silently, refraining from shouting and screaming and crying at Hansol. In a way, his own silence is almost like a peace-offering.

The thought is sad enough that Seungkwan just trains his eyes onto the back of the employee, and quietly wills the boy to hurry up.

The two of them sit there, waiting for their burgers, as a thousand things left unspoken linger heavily between them.


-x-


“Hey,” Minghao suddenly exclaims as he slowly shifts through the pages of Junhui’s self-titled UNIVERSITY YEAR TWO: WHAT IS AN EDUCATION? scrapbook. “It’s the pink eggplant!”

Junhui leans over, resting his cheek on Minghao’s shoulder as he looks down at the photograph. The image of an unnaturally vibrant pink eggplant stares up at him; in the picture, Mingyu is cradling the vegetable against his chest like a babe while Wonwoo stands at his elbow, almost curled in half from the force of his laughter as his nose crinkles up in glee.

“Ahhh, I forgot about this,” Minghao says. When Junhui looks at him, the younger man’s eyes are unbearably fond as he looks down at the printed copies of their memories. Junhui can’t help but press a lingering kiss to Minghao’s jaw. He pulls back immediately though, when Minghao continues with a nonchalant: “I can’t believe you accidentally tossed away the pink eggplant, Junhui.”

“What?” Junhui asks, drawing completely away from the younger man. “I didn’t throw away the pink eggplant!”

Minghao turns around to face Junhui, and he cocks an eyebrow at the impassioned denial. “You accidentally threw it away while you were doing spring cleaning, remember?”

“No, I didn’t,” Junhui denies, a pout beginning to form on his lips at the accusations being lobbed against him. Minghao coos and drags in the other by his elbows. Junhui allows this, letting Minghao wrap him up in a warm hug before he continues. “You’re the one who lost the pink eggplant. You took it to that dance showcase you had as a good luck charm and then left it backstage. We couldn’t find it afterwards.”

Minghao splutters in disbelief though his arms never loosen their hold around his boyfriend. “Why would the pink eggplant be my good luck charm?”

“I don’t remember! But I distinctly remember you carrying the pink eggplant with you backstage.”

“I think you’re remembering things wrong. I remember you accidentally throwing away the pink eggplant while you were cleaning up the dorm; you were freaking out about it when I got back after class.”

“No,” Junhui says almost petulantly with puffed-out cheeks of frustration. “You’re wrong.”

“It’s what I remember!” Minghao defends himself.

They stay there in a silent stand-off for a long moment before Junhui finally cracks, a smile blossoming on his previously downturned lips. Minghao sighs and rolls his eyes as the older man happily asks: “Is this our first fight as a couple?”

“Yep,” Minghao agrees. “Our first argument is about the mysterious disappearance of the pink eggplant. We really are the world’s coolest couple.”

Junhui giggles as the younger man’s sarcastic words, and Minghao just clucks his tongue in a mix of exasperation and affection before pressing a kiss against Junhui’s temple.


-x-


“Look at her face. Look at it,” Jeonghan hisses at Seungcheol, who’s currently watching their cooking instructor analyze their seafood Alfredo fettuccine with something close to trepidation swimming in his eyes. “She’s horrified by what you created.”

“What we created, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol hisses back, and Jeonghan snorts.

“Oh, what. So now we’re suddenly a unit?”

“You know I’m not good at cooking!”

“This isn’t about not being good at cooking. This is about being a complete murderer of the culinary arts.” Gesturing with a graceful flap of his fingers in the general direction of the monstrosity Seungcheol has concocted, Jeonghan continues with a thoroughly unimpressed: “Why is the Alfredo sauce orange, Cheolie?”

“…it must be the colour pigment from the lobster.”

“Bullshit, Cheolie.” Sighing, Jeonghan shakes his head and disparages with a dramatic, “I’m never going to be able to show my face here again.”

“Lucky for everyone else,” Seungcheol mutters before hissing when Jeonghan slaps him on the arm.

“Alright,” their plump, happy-go-lucky cooking instructor says, turning towards them. Jeonghan has to give her credit; her mega-watt smile has only dimmed a little bit in the face of Seungcheol’s orange mess. Had it been anyone else, they would have probably already broken down in tears at the sight. “This is a great first attempt, Jeonghan-ssi, Seungcheol-ssi. The texture of your pasta is a bit too firm, and I think you accidentally threw in vinegar instead of virgin oil into your dish. Other than that, it’s—it’s not bad. Not bad at all!”

She moves on with a somehow subdued bounce to her steps. Jeonghan immediately rounds on Seungcheol.

“You’re taking this home with you.”

“No thanks. Bring it home for Joshua. Show him what he’s missed out on.”

“Joshua will cry, Cheolie, you absolute ass. Do you want Joshua to cry?”

“I never want Joshua to cry, which is why I have so many concerns about your relationship with him.”

Jeonghan smacks him one more time on the shoulder.


-x-


“Why, Seokmin-ssi, I must say, you really picked out a very fancy restaurant for our date tonight.”

“Only the best for you, Soonyoung-ssi,” Seokmin says in his most pompous tone. Coughing a bit into his fist, his eyes drift around, soaking in the very high-class atmosphere around them before he continues: “I don’t feel out-of-place at all. No, definitely not.”

Soonyoung lets out a loud peal of laughter before slapping his hands over his mouth, having realized his laugh is probably a bit too loud for a muted atmosphere of the restaurant. Dropping his hands, Soonyoung releases a few amused titters. Seokmin almost chokes from having to suppress his own laughter at the uncharacteristically prim and proper display.

“Anyway, Soonyoung-ssi,” Seokmin continues after batting down his amusement. “Pick whatever your heart desires from the menu. After all, this is my treat tonight.”

Soonyoung giggles softly, batting his eyelashes playfully at his dongsaeng, before letting his eyes go over the menu. Seokmin looks down as well, soaking in the proffered dishes listed out. They stay like that for a moment, each carefully going over the menu before – in perfect unison – they look back up, their eyes meeting.

“I have no idea what any of this is,” Soonyoung confesses with a bright smile on his face.

“Me neither,” Seokmin confesses in return.

They end up giggling like giddy children until their waiter comes back to take their orders.

(They continue to giggle while stumbling over the pronunciation of the menu items.)




“I think this is lamb.”

“No, it’s definitely rabbit, hyung.”

“This isn’t gamey enough to be rabbit, Seokmin. I love you, but you’re ridiculously silly sometimes.”

“Not all rabbits taste crazy gamey, Soonyoung-hyung. I’m supposed to look up to you as my hyung, but how can I trust you with anything if you don’t even know this?”

Soonyoung sighs dramatically and takes another bite of his mystery meat. “Well we can’t ask the waiter now. We’ll look like idiots.”

“I say we risk it and ask him anyway.”

They end up laughing through all of dinner as well.


-x-


“Hey, Mingyu. Do you remember the pink eggplant?” Minghao asks the moment the line connects.

The sound of pots and pans clanging together echo down the line before Mingyu’s semi-distracted voice replies. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do you remember what happened to it?”

“Umm…” Mingyu trails off into silence while Junhui fidgets impatiently beside Minghao. The younger Chinese man simply reaches out and gently massages the back of Junhui’s neck as the two of them wait for Mingyu’s answer. Finally, after a long moment, Mingyu’s voice sounds again. “I’m pretty sure Wonwoo-hyung threw it into the canal.”

Junhui’s surprised “What?” mixes in with Minghao’s disapproving groan of “Why is your memory so bad, Mingyu?”

“What do you mean?” Mingyu asks. “Don’t you guys remember? Wonwoo-hyung was a little bit drunk and reenacting that scene from Othello. He ended up accidentally throwing the pink eggplant into the canal because he got so immersed in the role.”

“Are you drunk?” Minghao demands while Junhui giggles at the image of Wonwoo, drunk and reciting Shakespeare with an unnaturally pink eggplant held in his hand as a prop. “That never happened! Junhui ended up accidentally throwing it out while cleaning up the dorms.”

“How can you accuse your own boyfriend of such a thing, Minghao?” Mingyu demands, and Junhui preens a bit at Mingyu’s defense of him.

“Thank you, Mingyu-ah!” He chirps before adding: “Besides, I didn’t lose the eggplant. HaoHao’s the one who accidentally left it behind during his dance showcase.”

“Junnie-hyung, I love you and everything, but you’re also wrong,” Mingyu says. “I really remember Wonwoo-hyung tossing the pink eggplant into the canal. He was pretending to be Iago or something when it happened.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Minghao says: “Junhui, call Wonwoo-hyung, please.”


-x-


“Where did you even go?” The moment the question slips out, Seungkwan regrets it. It sounds plaintive, and honest, and much too vulnerable under the bright fluorescent lighting of the burger joint and the warm brown shade of Hansol’s eyes. He swallows, and lets his eyes flicker back down onto his lap, where it’s safer and less…less everything else.

“I went to the Tisch School of the Arts in New York,” Hansol’s steady timbre reaches Seungkwan’s ears, and the journalist has to remind himself how to actually breathe. “Studied photography, obviously.” There’s a pause, as if Hansol is silently debating something with himself, before he hesitantly asks: “Where…where did you go?”

“It’s none of your business,” Seungkwan snaps, knowing he’s being irrational as he’s the one who started this conversation anyway, but not caring at all. He can see the way Hansol gives a jerky nod in his peripheral, and he drags in another shuddery breath before continuing. “How’s Sofia?”

The mention of his younger sister causes Hansol to perk up, and Seungkwan can hear the fondness lacing through the younger man’s voice as he replies with an almost-happy, “She’s doing good. Yeah, she uh—she…no, nevermind. She’s good. I’m…I’m starting to have to bat away all these boys who want to court her, you know? But that’s not really surprising, with how cute she is.”

Seungkwan can’t help but give a small start when Hansol lets out a small stream of laughter. The husky chuckles are familiar and foreign at the same time, and the journalist can cry at how much he doesn’t hate that sound. Instead, he wants to wrap himself up in that infectious tune – safe and secure in the knowledge that Hansol isn’t going anywhere.

“Great,” is all he manages to utter in return.

Hansol just continues sitting quietly at his elbow, and Seungkwan spends the rest of the wait stupidly wondering why the younger man couldn’t have just stayed before when he was doing such a good job of it now.


-x-


There’s something almost otherworldly about the gardens at night. Brightened by strategically placed lanterns and hanging fairy lights, the gardens almost seem to glow white.

“Like that scene from Lord of the Rings,” Soonyoung pipes up helpfully when Seokmin shares the thought out-loud.

Seokmin hums, tilting his head in consideration before saying, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Okay, if we had to categorize everyone from the office as a creature from the Lord of the Rings series, what would they all be?” Soonyoung asks. Seokmin frowns a bit, carefully taking the question into consideration.

“I guess…Junnie-hyung would be an elf.”

“Junnie would definitely be an elf,” Soonyoung agrees with a firm nod of his head. “He’s got that whole…pretty vibe going on for him. Definitely elf-like.”

“I kind of want to say that Minghao is also an elf, just because of his ears, but I think he would be a human, to be honest,” Seokmin muses. “I don’t want to separate him and Junnie-hyung though; I feel like they should either both be elves or both be humans.”

“I mean, they can be like Aragorn and Arwen? Sort of star-crossed lovers but not really because they get together in the end.”

“Yeah, but Arwen ends up slowly fading away from heartbreak after Aragorn’s death; I don’t want that for Junnie-hyung,” Seokmin argues. The two of them fall into a contemplative quiet (possibly a bit too contemplative for the actual topic at hand), before Soonyoung breaks the stillness with a simple: “Seungcheol-hyung would be one of those living trees. The ones that walk really slow and take forever to say anything actually important.”

Seokmin snorts so loud that the nice couple a few feet away from them swerve around to look at him with scandalized eyes. He offers them a sheepish smile and an awkward wave before quickly herding a cackling Soonyoung away from the scene.

“And—and Jihoon…Jihoonie would be a hobbit,” Soonyoung gasps through his hacking laughter. Seokmin makes sure to muffle his snort this time.

“Jihoon-hyung’s senses are probably tingling right now. Oh! I don’t know how but I can tell that Soonyoung is insulting me at this moment. I’m going to steal all his pens and drink all the cola in the fridge now just to spite him,” Seokmin says, and Soonyoung has to grab onto his arm with two hands in order to stop from tumbling down.

“Jihoon and Seungcheol-hyung can never learn about this conversation,” Soonyoung manages to say after his laughter finally stops and he straightens up again. Seokmin chuckles and agrees with the older man easily enough.

“What creature would you be, hyung? If you had to choose.”

Soonyoung doesn’t even have to think it through. “I’ll be whatever you are, Seokmin. Because I don’t want to be without you.”

Seokmin smiles. “I think I’m going to go down the boring route and be a human, hyung.”

“Then I’m a human too.”

“Not an elf or a dwarf? You’d make a fantastic dwarf, hyung. I can picture you with a nice, full beard and everything,” Seokmin teases the older columnist with a playful smile. Soonyoung just wraps his arms tighter around Seokmin.

“While I know I can definitely rock the beard, I don’t think it’s the life for me. Dwarves live for hundreds and hundreds of years; I don’t want to live that long without you, Seokmin.”

Seokmin just gathers Soonyoung closer to himself, pressing the older man against his chest and resting his cheek against the top of the shorter man’s head. As they slowly sway amongst sweet peas and pansies, Seokmin begins to sing a soft and quiet melody.

“Hold me close and hold me fast, this magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose. When you kiss me heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose. When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart, a world where roses bloom. And when you speak, angels sing from above. Every day words seem to turn into love songs.”

Soonyoung looks up then with starlight captured in his eyes and sunshine traced on his lips. When Seokmin sings the last few lines, it feels like he can catch falling stars in his open palms.

“Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose.”


-x-


“Wonwoo says that Mingyu’s the one who destroyed the pink eggplant,” Junhui says, poking his head back into the living room where Minghao is still sprawled out on the floor, piles and piles of scrapbooks creating spirals of towers all around him.

The younger Chinese man’s unimpressed expression is punctuated by Mingyu’s offended “What?” that echoes from the speakers of Minghao’s phone.

“He says that Mingyu-ah ended up tossing the pink eggplant off our balcony.” Junhui continues with a hapless little shrug. Minghao rolls his eyes and pats the empty space beside him. Once Junhui slides down beside him on the floor, Minghao drapes one heavy arm on the older man’s waist – his hand tracing circles on the soft flesh of Junhui’s side – while his other is used to prop up his head.

“That is a lie!” Mingyu practically screeches down the line. “Wonwoo-hyung was the one who killed the pink eggplant! He tossed it into the canal while he was drunk! That’s like…drunk and disorderly conduct!”

“He says you’re lying, Wonwoo-ah,” Junhui says into his phone. “He says you murdered the pink eggplant while you were in a drunken haze.” There’s a pause as Wonwoo is no-doubt replying to this sharp accusation, before Junhui turns back to Minghao’s phone and dutifully recites: “He says you threw the pink eggplant off the balcony during that dinner we had to celebrate me getting the internship job.”

There’s a moment of silence before Mingyu hesitantly asks: “…which dinner?”

“It was around April? I got that internship job at Pledis Publishing Firm and we decided to celebrate,” Junhui reminds the younger man gently, not sounding annoyed in the least at Mingyu having forgotten said important achievement and celebration.

“…I don’t remember.”

“See? Mingyu has a shit memory,” Minghao says with a lazy loll of his head. “I think we can discount him for being an unreliable source.”

“No! I swear, Wonwoo-hyung threw the pink eggplant into the canal. He was doing this monologue by Iago or something, and then he accidentally swung his arm too hard and flung it into the water. I swear! I swear it happened!” Mingyu cries, sounding frustrated beyond belief.

“Junhui,” Minghao says, turning towards with Junhui with dark eyes. “Can you ask if we can put Wonwoo-hyung on speaker? It’ll just make things easier for all of us.”

There’s hesitation swimming in Junhui’s eyes at the younger man’s request, but Minghao just continues drawing comforting circles on his boyfriend’s hips, steady and certain and so trustworthy that Junhui ends up gulping and nodding his assent.

“Wonwoo?” He asks, soft and quiet. “Can I put you on speakerphone, Wonwoo-ah?”

There’s a moment of silence – long and heavy – before Junhui nods and presses a button. Placing his phone down beside Minghao’s on the floor, he nestles back into Minghao’s side. The younger Chinese man just presses a tender kiss to Junhui’s temple before saying: “You’re on speaker now, Wonwoo-hyung.”

“…hi, Minghao. Hello, Mingyu-ah,” Wonwoo’s deep voice finally sounds.

There’s another beat of silence, before Junhui’s soft “Hi, Wonwoo-ah” breaks a bit of the mounting tension, and something that sounds suspiciously like a shuddering breath echoes from Mingyu’s line.

“Wonwoo-hyung?” Mingyu finally asks.

“…hi, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says in return.

“I…” There’s another pause, and Minghao can see the way Junhui fidgets around, desperate to say something in order to soothe past hurts and end the awkwardness that can only exist between past-lovers, but ignorant as to how to go about it. He just presses Junhui closer to himself as a silent support, and relaxes only when a bit of the tension drains away from the older man’s body. “I didn’t destroy the pink eggplant,” Mingyu finally says, voice friendly if not warm – but this was enough for now. “You…you were drunk and reciting Shakespeare by the canal. Don’t you remember? You accidentally flung the pink eggplant into the water while you were performing Iago’s monologue about being a bad guy or something.”

“No I…I remember being drunk and doing the whole monologue,” Wonwoo says, quiet and uncertain but apparently willing to see this conversation through. “But I definitely wasn’t holding the pink eggplant. You’re the one who ended up tossing it off Jun and Minghao’s balcony during that celebration dinner. You were trying to juggle, and…well, farewell pink eggplant.”

“See, I don’t remember this dinner,” Mingyu says, as something close to a whine makes itself known in his voice. “Why don’t I remember this dinner?”

“It was with the four of us,” Junhui cuts in, gentle and nurturing and doing his best to not scare off either Wonwoo or Mingyu. “We ordered Chinese food and ended up watching…the Harry Potter movies I think?”

“Heonwoo was there too,” Wonwoo helpfully adds.

“Heonwoo?” Minghao suddenly pipes up, and his arm unconsciously tightens around Junhui’s waist. “Heonwoo was there? Well then, he’s probably the one who destroyed the pink eggplant.”

“HaoHao,” Junhui groans even as something close to pleasure curls around his heart.

“I’m just saying, Heonwoo was a bit of an idiot.”

“He wasn’t an idiot!” Junhui defends his ex-boyfriend despite the laughter threading through his protestations. “I’m pretty sure he’s in medical school right now, studying to become a neurosurgeon.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t an idiot,” Minghao grumbles, and takes Junhui’s soft yet punishing poke to his side without complaint.

“He was pretty clumsy,” Wonwoo concedes. When Junhui gasps in semi-mock outrage, the editor is quick to placate him with an: “It doesn’t mean he’s an idiot! It just means he was a little bit careless.”

“In Heonwoo-hyung’s defense though,” Mingyu pipes up in an innocent tone of voice before it transforms into something more sly. “Junnie-hyung tends to have that effect on people. Turning them super clumsy, I mean.”

“Shut up, Mingyu,” Minghao grumbles. He can feel his cheeks and ears turning red, and can only be quietly thankful that no one – other than Junhui – is here to see his blatant embarrassment.

“This still doesn’t explain what happened to the pink eggplant,” Junhui says, saving Minghao from further mortification. His hand comes up to gently run through the loose strands of Minghao’s hair, and the younger man leans into his touch.

“Anti-climactic,” Wonwoo says.

“One of life’s great mysteries,” Mingyu adds.

“I’m still one-hundred percent sure that Mingyu accidentally juggled the pink eggplant to its demise though,” Wonwoo continues, and something close to playfulness bleeds into his voice.

“And I’m one-hundred and ten percent sure that Wonwoo-hyung accidentally flung the pink eggplant into the canal while he was channeling his inner-Iago,” Mingyu replies. Minghao can hear the quiet laughter in the older man’s voice, and can only feel quietly grateful for its presence.

“Wrong,” Wonwoo huffs over the line, and something that sounds suspiciously like a snort comes in from Mingyu’s side.

“And I’m one-hundred and twenty percent sure that Heonwoo must have went looking for a popsicle, and then ended up eating the pink eggplant after mistaking it for one.” Minghao says. Junhui swats his arm playfully.  

“That wasn’t even your original story, HaoHao!”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” Minghao says seriously, and the four of them end up laughing quietly together.

“I should go,” Wonwoo says after the companionable laughter dies down. “I was about to head to the grocery store when Jun called.”

“Sorry for interrupting, Wonwoo-ah,” Junhui sing-songs, but Wonwoo just waves off his apologies.

“No, it’s fine. This was a serious matter,” Wonwoo says, causing Junhui to giggle happily into his hands. “But I really should get going. I’ll see all of you guys on Monday.”

“Bye bye, Wonwoo,” Junhui says.

“See you Monday, hyung,” Minghao adds.

“Good bye, Wonwoo-hyung.” Mingyu is the last to wish the elder farewell, and his parting words end up sounding oddly bittersweet.

“Bye,” Wonwoo says, soft and quiet before he hangs up. The beeping noise that replaces Wonwoo’s deep timbre is an unwelcome substitute, and Junhui quickly fumbles with his phone before dropping the call completely.

The quiet that engulfs the room is broken by Mingyu’s soft “thank you”. The words are simple, yet somehow packed with so much meaning that Junhui can feel something trying to crawl up his throat. Before he can say something unbearably open and honest though, Minghao overcuts him with a nonchalant: “You’re going to the gym with me tomorrow, Mingyu.”

“Wait, what?” Mingyu splutters. “No…I hate going to the gym. I hate working out. Going to the gym with you is the worst. You’re a monster, a workout monster!”

“Too bad,” Minghao scoffs at his phone. “I want some company when I go tomorrow. As my best friend, you’re obligated to go with me.”

“Bring Junnie-hyung with you. He’s your boyfriend!”

“Nuh-uh,” Junhui says, and he reaches out to intertwine his fingers with Minghao’s. “We’re not that kind of couple. Besides, I’m busy tomorrow.”

“What are you doing, hyung?”

“I’m sleeping in!” Junhui cheers with mischievous glee, and Mingyu groans.

“It was a mistake,” Mingyu says in a dramatically haunted voice. “It was a mistake, the two of you getting together.”

“So I’ll be at your place by eight tomorrow, okay?” Minghao demands more than asks.

“Ughhh, no please, Minghao. Please. I’ll buy you fried chicken if you don’t drag me to the gym with you tomorrow. Please!”

“Bye, Mingyu.”

“You monster! You workout monster—!”

Minghao hangs up on Mingyu and gets up onto his feet, dragging Junhui along with him. Pushing Junhui onto the couch, Minghao climbs in after the older man, sliding in between his parted legs and leaning over him.

“Hi,” Junhui says, half-breathless already, and Minghao laughs as Junhui loops his arms around his shoulders.

“Hi,” Minghao says. “I guess we never did figure out what happened to the pink eggplant, huh?”

Junhui shrugs, carefree and unburdened by the thought. “Mystery is nice. I mean, life is just one big mystery, right? No one really knows what’s going to happen, but that’s what makes things interesting.”

“I thought you could tell the future, Junhui,” Minghao teases, and he soaks in the way Junhui’s eyes curve up when he’s happy.

“Only the immediate future,” Junhui corrects. “I can’t see things that are really far off. That’s too much power to place onto one person.”

“Oh, of course,” Minghao drawls out, and Junhui giggles.

“Are you mocking me, HaoHao?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Minghao replies, and Junhui lets out one last peal of happy laughter before he drags Minghao down into a warm kiss.

Groaning softly at the feeling of Junhui beneath his fingertips, Minghao’s hand reaches forward to grasp the arm of the couch for better balance. Instead, he reaches too far over, hand brushing against cool porcelain. A sudden crash echoes through the room, and the two of them freeze, foreheads still touching, noses still brushing, and lips held apart by a scant few centimeters.

“Did you just break my lamp?” Junhui asks after a moment. His eyelashes tickle Minghao’s cheek, distracting enough to almost make the younger man forget his embarrassing blunder.

“I thought you liked me looking like a dumbass,” is Minghao’s vaguely cheeky reply. Junhui stares at him for a moment before breaking into happy, little giggles. He drags Minghao back down, the younger man going willingly.

“Mmm…you’re my idiot,” Junhui whispers.

“Cheesy,” Minghao whispers back even as he presses tender kisses onto Junhui’s lips.

“We’re a cheesy couple.”

“As long as we’re not as cheesy as Soonyoung-hyung and Seokmin.”

Junhui just laughs and tugs at the end of Minghao’s sweater. After that, there’s not much talking at all.


-x-


“I can’t believe you’re a secret arsonist, Cheolie,” Jeonghan tsks as they wait for the bus, arms loaded down by multiple containers of barely edible food.

“I’m not a secret arsonist, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says, and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“You almost burned down the entire place, Cheolie.”

“How was I supposed to know that the torch had such fire-power?” Seungcheol cries out in a terrible attempt at a defense.

“And because of that, we also have no crème brûlée,” Jeonghan says with a dramatic sigh. “At least I got a good story out of this, I guess. What do you think of this headline, Cheolie? Local Idiot Brings the Fire to a Couples’ Cooking Class. Pretty good, isn’t it?”

“Pretty good but inaccurate because I didn’t burn down the cooking center,” Seungcheol grumbles.

“You’re right. Journalistic integrity and all that,” Jeonghan nods somberly before perking back up again with another sly smile on his face. “How about this then? Local Idiot Torches In and Torches Out: The Fire that Almost Was at a Couples’ Cooking Class.”

“Too long,” is Seungcheol’s answer, and Jeonghan clucks his tongue in disappointment.

“You’re no fun,” he sighs before straightening back up. “I guess if nothing else, tonight has established that you’re definitely not a chef. Cooking isn’t the only way you can woo someone though; I’m sure that you have a secret romantic streak, Cheolie, hidden under layers and layers of sardonic bitterness and pitiful defeat. We just have to find it.”

“Wait…” Seungcheol says, before squinting suspiciously at Jeonghan. “Why would I need to woo someone?”

“Well you don’t have to. But if it’ll make you less of a depressing coconut, then by god, I’ll gladly welcome it.”

Seungcheol continues squinting at Jeonghan for a few more seconds before his eyes widen in horror as the realization seeps in.

“Oh no. Oh no. No. No. You have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Oh yes I do, Cheolie. And frankly, I’m offended that you thought you can hide anything from me.” Jeonghan shakes his head before adding: “The only thing surprising about any of this was how long it took you to figure it out. I mean, I know you’ve got the emotional range of a coconut, but this was some next-level emotional repression, Cheolie.”

Seungcheol groans and attempts to hide his face in the multiple Tupperware containers he’s holding.

“I want to die.”

“Nothing surprising about that. But don’t worry. I’m sure Jihoon will bring that little bit of sunshine you need in your life.”

“Shush!” Seungcheol yelps, looking around frantically as though the young editor would magically pop out of nowhere at the mere mention of his name. When he finally glances back at Jeonghan, the blonde journalist has a look on his face that can be best described as condescendingly indulgent.

“Oh Cheolie, you’re adorable.”

Seungcheol groans again.

“Repression Abounding: Local Idiot Takes a Love Beating.”

“Please stop.”

Jeonghan leans over and lets their shoulders bump together.

“Trust me, Cheolie: love is nice.”

Seungcheol groans louder.


-x-


“Well, here we are,” Seokmin announces rather unnecessarily as they walk up the steps leading to Soonyoung’s apartment.

Soonyoung smiles, soft and sweet, and quietly repeats: “Here we are.”

Biting his bottom lip, Seokmin asks: “Did you have fun tonight, hyung?”

“I’ve never been more spoiled in my life. Thank you, Seokmin,” Soonyoung says, before the sincere expression melts off his face to be replaced by an equally familiar and treasured impish one. “I mean, it was all part of the bet, and you really should have known better than to bet on something that you can’t win, but it was still nice.”

Seokmin laughs before drawing Soonyoung into a hug. He lets himself nuzzle the top of Soonyoung’s head, and soaks in the way his hyung wraps his arms around his waist. Pressing a tender kiss against the top of Soonyoung’s head, Seokmin quietly whispers into the inky strands of his hair: “I should let you go; it’s getting late.”

Before he can completely disentangle himself from the older man, however, Soonyoung stops him with a gentle tug on his coat sleeve.

“You’re…you’re supposed to treat this like a real date, Seokmin.”

“Yeah, hyung?”

“So you should…you should kiss me,” Soonyoung says. Seokmin laughs and leans in to press another gentle kiss against the older man’s forehead. When he pulls back though, Soonyoung wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down.

Their lips meet in a collision that’s just the slightest bit painful. Teeth clang together and lips clumsily work around each other before they finally ease out, before they finally figure out that ah yes, this is how it’s supposed to go.

They kiss for what feels like hours, warm skin against warm skin and two halves coming together to form a whole. When they finally pull apart, it feels like Seokmin has somehow managed to capture the entire universe in his heart, and he’s half-breathless with the wonder of it all when he asks: “What are we, hyung?”

Soonyoung traces Seokmin’s prominent cheekbone with gentle fingers, and he’s confident when he proclaims: “I’m Soonyoung, and you’re Seokmin. We’re us. I don’t care what you want to call us as long as there is an us.” Breathing in deeply, he glances up at Seokmin through his eyelashes. “I’m yours. Are you mine?”

“Of course, hyung.”

Soonyoung laughs like he has starlight caught in his lungs. Looping his arms around Seokmin’s neck, he beams up at him. “That’s all I need to know.”

“I’m going to kiss you again, hyung,” Seokmin says.

Soonyoung doesn’t even bother replying. Instead, he captures Seokmin in a kiss that means everything to the younger man.

When they finally part again, Soonyoung smiles breathlessly at Seokmin.

“You know what my motto always is: gotta take me out on a date before you can get me out of my pants.”

Seokmin laughs. “And I did just take you out on a spectacular date.”

“The most spectacular of all spectacular dates.”

“And I guess there is something super comfortable about watching movies while only wearing your underwear.”

“Exactly,” Soonyoung says before adding suggestively: "I have a copy of Spider-Man: Homecoming waiting for us upstairs.”

“Well then. Let’s go in and get these pants off.”

They rush into the apartment, tethered together by their intertwined fingers and the absolute belief that they belong together. They do their best to muffle their happiness by chasing the laughter in each other’s mouths with carefree kisses.

“I love you, hyung,” Seokmin whispers into the curves of Soonyoung’s smiling lips.

“And I love you, Seokmin,” Soonyoung whispers back before following the feeling of utter contentment, found only in Seokmin’s bright smile and even brighter eyes.

Chapter Text

“It’s almost Christmas, everyone!” Soonyoung, dressed up as Santa Claus and riding on the back of a reindeer-costume-clad Seokmin, shouts happily as the two lovers make their way off the elevator.

“Morning, hyung,” Chan dutifully chirps with a bright smile on his face from his position at the front desk. Soonyoung shoots him a playful wink before tossing a little bag of sweets at the intern, and Chan catches the gift, huffing out a small laugh even as Soonyoung pats Seokmin’s flank, urging the younger man further into the office.

“Good morning, guys,” Joshua says. Giving the two men a quick onceover, he continues fondly: “You two look festive.”

Soonyoung’s cry of “It’s almost Christmas, hyung. Of course we’re gonna look festive!” mingles in with Seokmin’s cheerful proclamation of “You’re Christian, Joshua-hyung. You of all people should understand the joy Christmas brings out in people!”

Smiling softly, Joshua walks up to his two dongsaengs and pats them both on their heads. “Hey, hey. It’s nice seeing the two of you so excited; maybe you can spread some of the cheer around the office, yeah?”

“Of course, hyung!” Soonyoung agrees. “That’s why we left mistletoes and secret little Christmas messages all over the place!”

“Yeah, Seungcheol-hyung’s standing under a mistletoe right now!” Seokmin adds. Seungcheol, coffee mug in his hand and characteristic bags under his eyes, looks up from where he’s lingering in his office doorway to see a bright red and green mistletoe glinting above his head. Looking back at Seokmin, he shoots the reindeer-costume-wearing man an unimpressed look even as said man says: “Mingyu! Get over there and give Seungcheol-hyung a big, old smooch!”

Seungcheol’s face contorts into one of repulsion, while Mingyu protests with a sharp: “That’s not how it works, Seokmin!”

“I’ll do it!” Jeonghan volunteers, already getting up from his chair with puckered lips. Seungcheol immediately slips into his office, slamming his office door shut behind him. Jeonghan slides back into his seat with an uncaring shrug. “Ah well. Guess my lips are too much for him to handle.”

“Why was this stuck to the bottom of my mug?” Jihoon demands, marching out of his office and waving around a bright, neon green sticky note in between his slender fingers. Pausing at the sight of Soonyoung and Seokmin, he adds: “Why the hell are you guys dressed up like that?”

“One, because it’s Christmas and Seokmin and I thought it would be nice to do a cute couple dress up thing—”

“And obviously nothing screams romantic couple like Santa and his pet reindeer,” Jihoon interrupts dryly, but Soonyoung just continues, completely undeterred.

“—and two, we thought it’d be nice to leave little messages all over the office. To get everyone into the Christmas spirit, you know?”

“This literally says I’ve got something special in the sack for you.” Wrinkling his nose in mild disgust, Jihoon levels the two men with a severe look of contempt. “Seriously?”

“That one was mine,” Seokmin declares proudly, chest puffing up a bit. Soonyoung coos softly and pets the younger man’s head, running his hands lovingly through Seokmin’s dark hair. Seokmin just preens, Jihoon’s distaste meaningless in the face of Soonyoung’s blinding love.

“At least you didn’t get one that says How about I slip down YOUR chimney at half past midnight?, Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan calls out from his seat. Holding up a bright red sticky note as proof, Seungkwan looks at the dressed up lovers with thoroughly unimpressed eyes. “You two disgust me.”

Seokmin beams at his dongsaeng. “Love you too, Seungkwannie!”

“Does no one in this office ever actually listen to what I say?” Seungkwan bemoans. Jeonghan just reaches over to semi-patronizingly pat the younger man on the head even as he shakes his own head in the negative with a benign smile painted on his lips.

“Anyway,” Soonyoung cuts in as his arms tighten around Seokmin’s neck. “We’ve left approximately seventy-one mistletoes all over the office. We expect all of you to follow the Mistletoe Rules, okay? Santa will know if you don’t, and you don’t want to know what Santa will do to you if he realizes you haven’t been abiding by the sacred Christmas traditions.”

“…he’ll put us on the naughty list?” Seungkwan asks.

“He’ll put you all on the naughty list!” Soonyoung screams. Patting his boyfriend lightly on his flank once more, Soonyoung continues in a jolly voice: “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Seokmin left a mistletoe in the photocopying room yesterday, so we’re just gonna go there now and make Santa proud.”

With one last cheeky wink and an even cheekier wave goodbye, Seokmin prances off with Soonyoung still dangling from his back as everyone else watches them skip away.

“Well, off they go,” Joshua says.

“To make out in our shared photocopying room,” Jihoon adds.

The semi-exasperated, semi-amused atmosphere is broken by the ding! of the elevator at that moment, and Minghao and Junhui emerge, wearing matching, hideous Christmas sweaters.

“Good morning, everyone!” Junhui greets sweetly with a small little wave even as Minghao just ignores everyone’s stares and makes his way towards his desk. The younger Chinese man only looks up when Mingyu snorts rather inelegantly from his desk.

“Oh my god, Minghao,” Mingyu says, his eyes swimming with mirth at the sight of his best friend wearing a bright green, cable-knit sweater with a terrible rendition of a snowman stitched to the front. “What are you wearing?”

“Shut your mouth, Mingyu,” Minghao says, taking a calm sip of his cinnamon latte, “or I’ll drag you to the gym with me this Saturday; you’re gonna love doing barbell squats.”

“Workout party-pooping monster,” Mingyu mutters under his breath with a small pout on his face.

Minghao’s no-doubt biting retort is cut off by a frantic beeping noise sounding from the direction of the photocopying room. Everyone stares, and – a few seconds later – Soonyoung and Seokmin come running back out with their costumes only slightly askew.

“So,” Soonyoung starts the moment they make it back to the main office area. “Seokmin may or may not have just thrown me on top of the photocopier while we were…you know…kissing, like some powerful, rugged man—”

“Soonyoung-hyung’s just exaggerating. He basically jumped on top of the photocopier by himself, like the fantastically fit person he is—”

“—and I may or may not have kicked something super important, possibly – or not! – breaking it,” Soonyoung finishes, before shooting a sheepish smile to the room at large.

The shrill beeping noise continues filling the office for a few more moments before Jihoon says “That’s it. I am ho ho ho-ing it out of here now” and slips into his office.

“That doesn’t even make sense! Next time, at least say that you’re gonna chugga chugga choo choo it out of here!” Soonyoung calls out after Jihoon’s already shut door. Turning back towards Seokmin, he teasingly says: “Can you believe we’re friends with that guy? Absolutely no sense of humour, he has.”

“Making a speech at our wedding, he’s definitely not,” Seokmin adds, and Soonyoung laughs, bumping their elbows together.

Seungcheol’s office door creaks open then, and their boss pokes his weary head out.

“What’s that beeping noise?” He asks with all the trepidation of a man who does not actually want the answer.

“The photocopying machine’s broken. Again.” Seungkwan says.

“It wasn’t my fault this time,” Minghao adds, eyes never straying from his laptop screen and fingers never stopping in their quick flight over his keyboard.

“It was our fault, hyung,” Seokmin confesses with a slightly abashed look on his face.

“We—we got a little bit too…enthusiastic while we were…you know, kissing in the photocopying room,” Soonyoung adds, pink blotches blossoming on his cheeks.

“Why?” Seungcheol cries.

“The mistletoe made them do it, Cheolie,” Jeonghan pipes up. “They were just trying to avoid getting onto Santa’s naughty list.”

“Coincidentally, hyung,” Seokmin says, shooting Seungcheol a bright, beaming smile, “I think I left a post it saying You’re on my naughty list, you feisty minx somewhere in your office.”

Seungcheol just stares at Seokmin with majestically unimpressed eyes while Jeonghan snickers unhelpfully from the side.


-x-


“Thanks for agreeing to do this, guys,” Joshua says, shooting everyone a sincerely grateful smile. The Christmas lights hanging around the soup kitchen cast a series of red and green shadows to play across Joshua’s face, but it does nothing to diminish the sweet look he’s sporting. “I know you all probably have better things to do.”

“Nonsense, Joshua!” Jeonghan says, tossing an arm over the younger man’s shoulders while everyone else offers their own small protests. “There’s nothing more important than giving back to the community.” Smirking a little bit, Jeonghan bumps his hip against Joshua’s and teasingly adds: “Besides, who can ever deny you anything?”

“I always knew remaining as inoffensive as possible would come in handy one day,” Joshua says with a  light laugh.

“You’re the one who said that you’re everyone’s favourite,” Jihoon adds from the back with a light smirk on his face.

“Considering that you’re all here, I’m just going to assume that previously flippant statement must be true.” Joshua shoots everyone another gentle smile before continuing. “But seriously, thank you so much. We were really running low on volunteers, so it means a lot that you guys came.”

“I figured Christmas season is when you guys would have the most volunteers, hyung,” Chan says.

Seungkwan shakes his head in semi-mock disapproval and says: “Monsters” only slightly ironically.  

“Typically we usually do have more volunteers during the holiday season. However, this year we’re just running short for some reason,” Joshua answers Chan. “Anyway, we’re going to need two groups. One to go caroling, and the other to stay here and help out. I think we need a few hands in the kitchen, a few to actually serve the food, and another few to help pack some of the canned goods we have in order to ship them off to a food bank.” Looking around, he adds: “I was thinking Jeonghan, Jihoon, Seokmin, Seungkwan and I could be the ones to go caroling, and the rest of you could stay here.”

“Wait, what? You can’t separate me and Seokmin,” Soonyoung declares passionately, wrapping his arms around the younger man who gladly reciprocates the affectionate hold. “We just got together. We’re still experiencing our honeymoon high! I’ll probably break out into hives if he leaves my side.”

“Aw, hyung,” Seokmin says, cooing at his lover and nuzzling his face against the top of Soonyoung’s head. “You’re so cute.”

“Not as cute you as, Seokmin,” Soonyoung replies, patting Seokmin lightly on the chest.

“I’m sorry, Soonyoung,” Joshua interrupts with an apologetic look on his face. “But we need more help in the kitchen than we do caroling; otherwise, I’d let you join us.”

“Can’t someone from the caroling team just switch places with me?” Soonyoung asks with a light pout playing on his lips.

“Honestly, I just picked out the five people who scored the highest on our last karaoke night to be the carolers,” Joshua confesses, slightly flushed from embarrassment.

Everyone pauses for a moment, before light murmurs of that sounds about right begins filling up the room. Soonyoung sighs dramatically, resting his head against Seokmin’s shoulder. “I guess I can’t argue against the karaoke machine,” he relents. Leaning up, he presses an ardent kiss to Seokmin’s cheek and whispers: “Try not to miss me too much” against the sharp curve of Seokmin’s jaw.

“I’ll do my best, hyung.”

“Alright.” Turning back around the face everyone else, Joshua asks: “Does that sound okay with everyone?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol agrees. “I guess the rest of us can just draw straws to figure out who will do what.”

“Just make sure to keep Cheolie away from anything involving food preparation,” Jeonghan advises everyone. “That man is a menace in the kitchen. Would not recommend as a potential husband.”

Seungcheol’s impassioned declaration of “You are the absolute worst, Jeonghan” is interrupted by a jolly-looking man, bustling into the kitchen.

“Joshua, are you boys ready? We’re going to be opening up in a half hour.”

“Yes! Sorry for taking so long, Daejung-ssi.” Gesturing towards Seungcheol with graceful fingers, Joshua continues: “Eight of us will be staying behind to help out while the other five will do the caroling rounds. Is that alright?”

“Perfect!” Daejung says, clapping his wrinkly hands together. His eyes sparkle with gentle mirth behind his half-moon spectacles as he regards the group of young men before him. “Okay, so if you eight boys can follow me? I’ll hand you your aprons and show you the ropes.”

Soonyoung turns dramatically to face Seokmin and throws his arms around the younger man one last time. “Oh, Seokmin!” He cries, cradling his dongsaeng’s head against the gentle slope of his shoulder. “I’ll miss you so much! Dress warmly, okay? Don’t get sick!”

“One last kiss for the road?” Seokmin asks, dark eyes peeking out from the fabric of Soonyoung’s periwinkle blue sweater.

“Two kisses, just for you,” Soonyoung responds, before leaning down and making real of his declaration.

“Sorry about this, Daejung-ssi,” Joshua whispers, leaning over so that the old man can hear him, but Daejung just lets out a merry laugh, amusement painted on every line of his withered face.

“Ah, love is never something you should be sorry about, Joshua,” the old man says good-naturedly. Tilting his head towards the direction of Seokmin and Soonyoung, he adds: “They make a good couple, huh?”

Joshua looks towards his two dongsaengs with fond eyes, and shakes his head in mirth.

“Let’s just say it’s been a long time coming, Daejung-ssi.”

“Such a long time,” Seungkwan mutters from beside him. “Such. A long. Time, Daejung-ssi. I have aged waiting for them to get together, you don’t even understand—”


-x-


“I don’t want to brag or anything,” Soonyoung starts with a slightly puffed out chest, “but I think I am rocking this hairnet look. I can’t believe I was worried about looking silly.”

“Yeah, you don’t look silly at all. Very cool, very suave,” Wonwoo says, tying his bright green apron behind his back with deft fingers. Soonyoung glares playfully at the younger man.

“After all this time together, I can tell your sarcastic voice from your sincere voice,” the black-haired columnist says. “And right now, you’re being completely untruthful.”

Wonwoo shrugs with a small, unapologetic smile on his face. “No one looks good in hairnets, Soonyoung. It’s a given fact.”

“And I thought I was going to be the first.”

“No, sorry. You’re not that special.”

“Here we have another example of Wonwoo breaking my heart,” Soonyoung sighs melodramatically, making Wonwoo chuckle in amusement.

Chan fondly shakes his head at his two hyungs’ antics before saying: “Okay, so we need two people on food preparation duty and two people on dish-cleaning duty. Who’s going to do what?”

“I should cook,” Mingyu says. “Considering I’m the only one out of the four of us who actually can.” Sighing, he muses quietly: “Maybe we shouldn’t have picked straws for this. It seems a little irresponsible.”

“Nonsense, Mingyu!” Soonyoung says with a happy little smile. “I’m sure everything will turn out okay. I mean, I did accidentally set fire to my dorm room back in university trying to make ramen. But I’m a lot more careful when it comes to cooking nowadays, really!”

Mingyu pales under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen. “Oh god.” He whimpers, before turning frantic eyes towards their intern. “Chan. Chan, can you cook?”

Chan squirms a little. “The grilled cheese sandwich I made the other day only resembled charcoal a little bit. But I’m sure I can do it, hyung!”

When Mingyu only brings his hands up to his face and groans in disbelief, Chan turns towards Wonwoo. “Wonwoo-hyung, can you cook?”

“No,” Wonwoo and Mingyu answer simultaneously, the latter’s face still buried in his palms. Wonwoo flushes a little, coughing softly into his fist, and Soonyoung quickly breaks the oddly tense silence with a cheerful: “Well let’s just play rock-paper-scissors and let the fates decide who will accompany our handsome Mingyu as he creates culinary masterpieces!”

“So I’m assuming whoever wins will help Mingyu-hyung?” Chan asks even as the three of them get into position.

“No,” Soonyoung answers. “Whoever loses will help him.”

“Rude,” Mingyu mutters under his breath at the same time Soonyoung shouts: “Rock, paper, scissors, go!”

Soonyoung loses.


-x-


It’s snowing just the lightest bit as the caroling team departs from the soup kitchen. The tiny, cold flakes flutter gently down from the inky blue night sky, leaving a layer of pure white covering everything and permeating the cool air with something close to magic.

Seokmin looks up as small snowflakes catch onto his eyelashes, before letting out a loose laugh. “Ahhh, it’s so nice out tonight! This is going to be so much fun. I’ve never gone caroling before.”

Joshua smiles at his dongsaeng’s enthusiastic joy, feeling the familiar spike of fondness curling up warm and steady in his belly at the sight of Seokmin’s beaming smile (though the warmness can also be emanating from Jeonghan’s arm slung over his shoulder). “Caroling’s a little bit awkward since we’re going to be singing to a bunch of strangers, but you’re right. We’re gonna have a lot of fun doing this together.”

“I’m already feeling a little embarrassed,” Jihoon mutters from beside Joshua, and the older man lets his hand flutter over the shorter editor’s shoulder briefly in an attempt of reassurance.

“Don’t worry,” he adds, gentle as always. “You can hide behind Seokmin if it gets too much.”

“Yeah, hyung!” Seokmin agrees readily. “I will shield you from any and all prying eyes!”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Seokmin.”

“We should probably figure out what we’re going to sing,” Seungkwan pipes up, and everyone turns towards their youngest with curious eyes. “I mean, it’s smart to have a plan.”

“What Christmas carols do you guys know?” Joshua asks.

Seungkwan’s immediate answer of “I know all the carols off of Michael Bublé’s Christmas album” mingles in with Jihoon’s contemplative “Should we really be singing Christmas songs though?”

“What do you mean, Jihoon?” Joshua asks with wide, questioning eyes.

“It’s just that not everyone celebrates Christmas, right?” Jihoon says with a light shrug.

“Oh yeah,” Seokmin says. “Not everyone’s Christian. No offense, Joshua-hyung,” he adds as a second-thought.

Joshua shoots the younger man a weird look. “That’s not offensive, Seokmin.”

“Thank god,” Seokmin sighs in relief, placing a hand over his heart while Seungkwan pats his back.  

“We can sing other songs. People are probably getting sick of the same old Christmas carols by now, anyway,” Jeonghan pipes up, his warm arm tightening just the littlest bit around Joshua’s shoulders. “We don’t have to be Christmas carolers, per se. We can just be regular, every-holiday-friendly carolers.”

“So what songs should we sing?” Seungkwan asks again.

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” Jihoon immediately says.

Jeonghan nods even as a sly smile begins to take over his face. “Nice choice, Jihoon. You know, Cheolie loves that song too.”

Joshua jabs his elbow lightly into Jeonghan’s side even as Jihoon nonchalantly says, “I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like Bohemian Rhapsody, hyung.”

“Fair enough,” Jeonghan says, his hand gently rubbing up and down Joshua’s arm as if the calming movement will help dissipate the exasperation rushing through the younger man’s veins. “But that’s something Cheolie has also said before.” Smiling at Jihoon, Jeonghan adds in a deceptively light tone of voice: “It always surprises me how much you have in common with Cheolie.”

Jihoon just shrugs, evidently not deigning that statement worth an answer.

“We can sing Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing,” Seokmin suggests. “Everyone loves that song.”

“Good suggestion, Seokminnie,” Jeonghan nods approvingly.

“The Killer’s Mr. Brightside,” Seungkwan adds.

Everyone shoots Seungkwan an odd look.

“That’s not exactly the vibe we’re going for, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan says. Seungkwan shoots the blonde journalist an offended glare.

“Everyone loves that song, hyung. Look.” Clearing this throat, Seungkwan begins singing: “Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis. But it’s just the price I pay, destiny is calling me. Open up my eager eyes, ‘cause I’m Mr. Brightside.”

Seungkwan stops singing, and everyone trails off into silence as well. Shooting all his hyungs a superior look, Seungkwan proclaims: “See? Everyone loves that song. You guys couldn’t even wait until the second line before joining in.”

“It’s catchy,” Jihoon grumbles under his breath.

“Fine,” Jeonghan relents with a small sigh. “We’ll keep Mr. Brightside on the table. Any other insane suggestions?”

There’s a pause, before Seokmin pipes up with a hopeful: “Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys?”

Jeonghan stares at the younger man for a long moment. “I was rooting for you, Seokmin. I was rooting for you.”

“I mean, it’s a really catchy song,” Joshua pipes up in Seokmin’s defense. Jeonghan turns his gaze towards the brown-haired columnist, who offers the older man a sweet smile. “I don’t know. It makes me really happy.”

Jeonghan stares for a moment longer before sighing.

“Fine. The Beach Boys can stay.”

Seokmin immediately begins singing (evidently unbothered by the fact that they are standing in the middle of a sidewalk).

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older, then we wouldn’t have to wait so long. And wouldn’t it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belong.”


-x-


Junhui frowns as he watches Hansol serve bowls of warm squash and pumpkin soup from the corner of his eye. While the younger man is smiling, his grin just seems a little bit off, a little bit too stiff, and just a few shades off from genuine happiness. Carefully deposition a warm roll of bread onto a man’s tray, Junhui cheerfully chirps out: “Enjoy!” before going back to his careful contemplations.

When Hansol sidles to his side with an empty pot in order to help pass out slices of ham, Junhui turns towards him with a half-formulated plan in mind.

“Hey Hansol, why was Santa’s little helper feeling depressed?” Junhui asks from out of nowhere with absolutely no segue way whatsoever.

Hansol blinks in surprise. “Why?”

“Because he had low elf esteem!” Junhui answers with a bright smile on his face. A confused smile twists along Hansol’s lips, and while Junhui counts it as a win, he still thinks the blonde photographer can smile brighter still.

They both pass out a few more helpings of food before Junhui asks: “What’s as big as Santa but weighs nothing?”

Hansol shoots his hyung an indulgent smile. “I don’t know.”

“Santa’s shadow!” Junhui proudly proclaims.

The man standing in front of him laughs loudly.

“That’s hilarious!” He manages to say through his mirthful cackles. “Santa’s shadow...that’s a good one!”

“Oh, thank you!” Junhui says with a sweet smile. Placing a warm roll onto the man’s tray, he adds playfully adds: “I give you full permission to share that joke with as many people as you can.”

“You won’t be able to stop me,” the man says with another light chuckle. Moving down the line to stand in front of Hansol, he asks: “Do you know any other jokes?”

“Hmm…” Junhui thinks for a moment before perking up. “Oh! What do you call someone who doesn’t believe in Father Christmas?”

“What?”

“A rebel without a Claus!”

Junhui shares a good laugh with the man who almost drops his tray from the force of his laughter. Slowly trailing off into quiet contentment, the man accepts a generous slice of ham from Hansol before turning towards Junhui and saying with a crooked grin: “Hey, thanks for a laugh, kid.”

Junhui just offers him a smile, gentle and earnest, before waving him off with an equally sincere, “Any time.”

Hansol’s sporting his usual boyish grin when Junhui turns back around to face him.

“What?” He asks, even as he feels something close to victory blossom in his chest.

“Nothing,” Hansol says through his smile. “Just wondering how many jokes you have up your sleeves.”

“Hundreds,” Junhui proclaims seriously, before asking with childish glee: “How much did Santa pay for his sleigh?”

This time, when Hansol laughs, it’s loud and boisterous and infectious in its liveliness; the blonde photographer’s laughter feels like a splash of vibrant yellow and orange over a white canvas, and Junhui soaks in the tinkling sound with a bright smile on his face.

“I don’t know. How much, hyung?”

“Nothing; it was on the house!”

Hansol snorts. “I have one, hyung. What do you get when you combine a Christmas tree with an iPad?”

“A pineapple!” Junhui answers before sticking his tongue out in a childishly provocative manner. “You can’t out-joke the Joking Master, Hansol.”

“Oh yeah? Challenge accepted, hyung.”

“Bring it on, dongsaeng.”

They look at each other before breaking out into a round of giddy giggles.


-x-


“So,” Seungcheol begins, hefting a box of canned salmon on top of all its peers. “How’s everything going with Junnie?”

“Good,” Minghao says distractedly, carefully sealing up a cardboard box with deft fingers and precise movements. “Junhui wanted to wear matching sweaters yesterday, so we did.”

A soft smile curls up along the edges of Seungcheol’s lips at the thought of the younger Chinese man, willingly donning a couple’s look just because Junhui wanted to. Shaking his head fondly, Seungcheol continues in a playful tone. “And how are you with the whole distracted thing? Does your heart still flutter every time you see Junnie?”

The lighthearted smile quickly drops from his face with Minghao’s next words though.

“I don’t know. How are you with the whole Jihoon-hyung thing, hyung?” Minghao doesn’t even bother looking up from where he’s taping shut another box of baby formulas, and Seungcheol ends up gaping at the top of his dongsaeng’s head.

“What?” Seungcheol splutters, discretely looking around as if to make sure the shorter editor won’t suddenly emerge from the shadows. “I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about, Minghao.”

“Okay. Whatever you say, hyung,” Minghao says, simple and almost uninterested.

Seungcheol watches the Chinese man seal up another three boxes before breaking. “How did you know?” He asks, the question rushing out of him in a stream of nervous apprehension, and Minghao finally looks up to shoot Seungcheol a look that teetered the line between exasperation and sympathy.

“Hyung,” Minghao huffs out not unkindly. “You sent out a mass email telling us to back off of Jihoon-hyung. Our breakroom still has five huge bags of a Colombian premium coffee beans which I know for a fact that you didn’t order for the rest of us.” Raising an eyebrow, Minghao peers at Seungcheol with dark, intense eyes before adding: “And, you and Jihoon-hyung have always had this thing between you two, you know?”

Seungcheol squints at Minghao for a moment before asking lowly: “What thing?”

Minghao shrugs, though the nonchalant gesture is undermined by his eyes, which seem to almost be carefully cataloguing every minute movement that Seungcheol makes. The older man shifts a little bit, feeling oddly exposed under his dongsaeng’s attentive gaze, before Minghao looks back down at the roll of tape in his hands, allowing Seungcheol a moment of relief.

“It just feels like you and Jihoon-hyung are a team,” Minghao finally says. Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, not expecting such an answer, and Minghao looks up with a gentle grin on his face. “It’s like the two of you have each other’s backs. You and Jihoon-hyung just both seem more…relaxed with the other around.” Shrugging once more, Minghao meets Seungcheol’s eyes with a soft but sincere expression as he adds: “It’s nice to see, hyung.”

Minghao goes back to sealing up the packaged goods as Seungcheol stares, carefully going through the younger man’s words and trying to make sense of the strange warmth bubbling up inside his chest. Breathing in deeply once, twice, then one more time, Seungcheol swallows the slew of words begging to be released, and instead lets out a quiet: “Really?”

“Hmm?” Minghao hums, seemingly immersed in his task.

“I mean…does Jihoon really look more—relaxed around me?” Seungcheol asks, feeling oddly shy yet alive at the same time. Minghao laughs, kind and open, and shoots Seungcheol one more crooked grin.

“Considering the fact that Jihoon-hyung locked himself up in his office that one time you were gone…I’m going to say yeah, he’s a lot more relaxed with you around.”

Seungcheol laughs a bit breathlessly, before confessing only semi-sheepishly: “I actually gave him permission to hide out in his office that day.”

“Preferential treatment,” Minghao says, smirking a bit. “And you were surprised that I figured it out?”

Seungcheol groans, peeking at Minghao from beneath long lashes. “Who else knows?”

“I don’t know. Probably Wonwoo-hyung and Chan. Possibly Seungkwan as well, and Jeonghan-hyung and Joshua-hyung definitely know.”

“Yeah, they definitely do.” Sighing one last time, Seungcheol shoots Minghao a smarmy grin. “By the way, it was really sweet of you to wear a matching look with Junnie for work.”

Seungcheol can see the way red blotches appear on the tips of Minghao’s ears, and his sly smile transforms into something more sincere at the way the younger man fidgets.

“It meant a lot to Junhui,” Minghao says, evidently trying to make it less of a deal than it really was, “and I just want to make him happy.”

Seungcheol lets out a huff of laughter, and Minghao looks up in a mixture of shy curiosity. “What is it, hyung?” He asks, and Seungcheol just shakes his head before gesturing to the box sitting on Minghao’s lap.

“Nothing,” he manages to say through his warm grin. “You just…accidentally ripped a hole into the cardboard box.”

Minghao looks down to see what looks to be a hole punched into the side of the box. A packet of diapers peeks out shyly at him from the punctured opening, and the Chinese man groans in embarrassed disbelief, letting go of the little piece of torn-off cardboard clutched in his left hand.

“Shit…”

“Your heart still flutters at the mention of Junnie, huh?”

“Seven-hundred-and-fifty pounds of coffee, Seungcheol-hyung.”

There’s a pause before Seungcheol grumbles out a vaguely petulant “fair”. Moving to sit next to Minghao, the older man reaches for another cardboard box before handing it to his dongsaeng.

“So this is embarrassing,” Seungcheol eventually says, and Minghao just rolls his eyes.

“There’s nothing embarrassing about being in love.”

Seungcheol laughs at the familiar words being thrown back into his face, and Minghao breaks into an answering grin in return.

“I guess we can both just look like lovesick fools then.”

“Yeah. But if this is a competition, you’re winning, hyung.”

Seungcheol shoots Minghao an unimpressed look. “Seriously, Minghao?”

“You sent out a mass email and ordered seven-hundred-and-fifty pounds of coffee, Seungcheol-hyung. I’d say you’re winning by a large margin.”

“No one respects me anymore,” Seungcheol sighs resignedly. “No one.”

“Can you please pass me another roll of tape, hyung? I’ve run out.”

Seungcheol lobs the new roll of tape at Minghao’s head, but the younger man just expertly ducks down, laughing the whole while.


-x-


It’s after the seventh door that gets slammed in their faces (an exaggeration…some people were very polite about closing their doors on them) that Jeonghan turns towards the others and says: “So this isn’t really working out.”

Seungkwan is busy pouting and glaring at the recently slammed-shut door in equal measures, and Seokmin contemplatively wonders, “Do we not sound good? Are we pitchy? The karaoke machine wouldn’t lie to us, would it?”

Perking up, Seungkwan drops the pouty glare he had been sporting and claps his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Okay hyungs, let’s practice singing in three…two…one!”

All five of them immediately burst out into song. Jihoon begins singing the bridge of Bohemian Rhapsody; Seungkwan starts belting out the chorus of Rolling in the Deep; Jeonghan opens his mouth and lets the first verse of One Day More come ringing out from between his lips; Joshua happily starts singing the chorus of Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us; Seokmin begins belting out Teenage Dream with much emotion in his voice and expression.

The door to the house they were standing in front of slams open again, effectively cutting off their loud cacophony of singing.

The same middle-aged man who had shut the door in their faces before sticks his head out again with a ferocious glare twisting up his features.

“I told you boys I’m not interested in your caroling,” he practically growls.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, uncle,” Joshua says, bowing rapidly. “We’re just leaving now. So sorry.”

They make their way down the street before stopping in front of a closed bakery. Turning towards everyone, Joshua suggests: “Maybe we should pick out a song before practicing this time?”

“I don’t know, hyung,” Seokmin pipes up with his usually beaming smile. “I thought that medley we just did was actually pretty good!”

“All of us singing different songs at the exact same time isn’t a medley, Seokmin,” Jeonghan says.

“It’s not?” Seokmin asks, tuning wide eyes towards his blonde hyung, who only reaches out to gently pat his dongsaeng on the head.

“No, it’s not.”

“How about we sing Mr. Brightside?” Seungkwan suggests while Seokmin stands there, looking as if his entire world has been tilted on the axis.

“From the beginning?” Jeonghan asks, not even bothering to refute the song choice. At everyone’s nods of affirmation, the blonde journalist clears his throat and says: “Three…two…one, go!”

“Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine. Gotta gotta be down because I want it all. It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss. Now I’m falling asleep and she’s calling a cab, while he’s having a smoke and she’s taking a drag. Now they’re going to bed and my stomach is sick, and it’s all in my head but she’s touching his chest. Now he takes off her dress, now let me go.”

They slowly begin harmonizing as they sing together; their voices mingle together into something oddly sweet and lovely for such a song. They belt their lungs out, smiling at each other as they do so, their intertwining voices slowly rising up towards the stars dotting the inky dark sky. Before they can even get to the chorus, a passing man slips a five dollar bill into the tin that Joshua is holding. Smiling, he gives them a nod before hurrying along the lamp-lit road.

The five of them still, voices trailing off into nothing as they stare down at their first donation of the evening. Slowly, a smirk curls up along the edges of Jeonghan’s lips, and he shoots them all a devious look.

“I have a plan…”

“…tell us your plan before I start thinking you’re planning on doing something illegal,” Jihoon grumbles out when Jeonghan fails to continue immediately. “There’s no way I’m going to bail you out of jail, hyung.”

Jeonghan sighs, shaking his head melodramatically. “You and Cheolie really are perfect for each other.” At the gentle pinch Joshua administers to his side, Jeonghan straightens back up and continues: “But no, I’m not thinking of doing anything illegal. I just think that maybe we should be caroling at a nearby park or something. Clearly, people don’t want us bothering them while they’re relaxing at home. But in a public space? Everyone’s free game.”

“Ahhh, why do you have to talk about people like they’re bait, hyung?” Seungkwan groans, and Jeonghan just winks playfully at him.

“It’s because we’re literally trying to bleed them of their money.” When Joshua shoots him a thoroughly unimpressed look, Jeonghan immediately tacks on: “For a good cause though. So it’s fine.”

“We can go to the park I took Soonyoung-hyung on for our first date!” Seokmin chirps, bright and giddy at the mere thought. “It’s really pretty, and there’s a nice skating rink there as well which means there’s gonna be a lot of people hanging around.”

“Perfect,” Jeonghan says with a sly smile. “Let’s go get that cash, kids.”

“Aish, hyung,” Seungkwan groans as they all begin heading towards the direction of the park. “Can you seriously stop making us sound like a money-laundering business? I already feel like turning myself in, and I haven’t even done anything illegal!”   

“You’re a good kid, Seungkwan,” Joshua says seriously. “Don’t follow in Jeonghan’s footsteps, okay?”

“Time to get rich, boys!” Jeonghan cheers, causing Joshua to roll his eyes. The smile that blossoms on his face is fond though, and when Jeonghan turns around to shoot him a cheeky wink, Joshua just chuckles softly.


-x-


“Do you smell smoke, Mingyu-ssi?” Kyunghu, one of the ladies working in the kitchen along with Mingyu, Soonyoung, Chan, and Wonwoo asks, leaning over her cutting board (filled to the brim with perfectly diced tomatoes and carrots) to whisper conspiratorially to the younger man.

Mingyu leans up, sniffing the air and catching the faint tendrils of smoke. “Yeah…” he murmurs, before calling out: “Soonyoung-hyung! Can you go check on the turkey, please?”

Soonyoung puts down his beautifully peeled garlics and happily bounds over towards one of the huge ovens with a perky, little “Sure thing, Mingyu!” Opening the oven door, a huge puff of black smoke comes billowing out, and the previously faint scent of burning becomes pungent in its strength.

“Shit!” Mingyu yelps, rushing towards the oven where Soonyoung – having already quickly donned a pair of nearby oven-mitts – is reaching in to save their turkey.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung mutters just as Mingyu reaches him.

“What is it?” The younger man asks worriedly. Soonyoung pulls out arms from the depths of the oven to show off the tiny fire flickering on his right mitten.

“Oh my god!” Mingyu practically screeches. “That’s a fire! You’re on fire, hyung!”

The fire alarm starts blaring just as Soonyoung manages to rip of flaming material off his person and throw it onto the tiled floor. Wonwoo comes running then with Chan right at his heels; the older man is holding a pot full of water in his arms, and he immediately throws the liquid on the smouldering material the moment he reaches the general vicinity.

The small flame combusts into a huge fire, and everyone begins screaming, scrambling towards the exit.

“Oh my god, get back, hyung!” Mingyu screams, grabbing Wonwoo by the back of his purple sweater and pulling the older man away from the licking flames. Wonwoo shouts in surprise, stumbling back and bumping into Mingyu’s chest, but the two of them are too shocked to actually register their close proximity. “Was that water? Why did water make it worse?” Mingyu shrieks just as Chan rushes out of the room.

“There…there might have been some…some oil still in the pot?” Wonwoo offers hesitantly, holding said pot close to his chest.  

“Hyung!” Mingyu screeches. “That’s so dangerous, Wonwoo-hyung! Honestly, you have to be more careful with these things. What if you got seriously hurt, huh? Can you please be more aware of your surroundings, hyung?”

Wonwoo stammers for a bit, clearly at a loss, before Soonyoung saves him from his floundering by forcefully herding both him and Mingyu towards the kitchen doors.

“Okay,” Soonyoung huffs out. “This is really sweet and all, but we seriously need to go. Now.”

Before the three of them can exit, however, Chan bursts back into the kitchen with a fire extinguisher in his hands. He immediately begins spraying the room, covering everything – along with the remaining three occupants – with cool foam.

“Chan!” Mingyu manages to yell (complete with a skyward-waving fist) before he’s buried alive in misty, white goodness.


-x-


“Okay, this looks like a good spot,” Jeonghan proclaims, looking around and nodding firmly. Turning towards Seokmin, he says: “Seokmin, can you quickly run in a circle around us? To mark our territory, you know?”

“Don’t do that,” Jihoon groans, but Seokmin is already running around them with flailing arms and bubbly laughter. Skidding to a stop in front of Jeonghan, Seokmin preens when his hyung dotingly pats him on the head, the two of them expertly ignoring Jihoon’s no-doubt unpleasant grumbles and Seungkwan’s exasperated eye-roll.

“Alright,” Joshua says, tuning out the mess that’s occurring beside him. “Let’s start caroling, guys.” Placing down the tin can in front of them, he turns back towards the others and asks: “What song should we start with?”

There’s a pause before Seungkwan suggests: “Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On?”

“Why are all your song choices so sad and questionable, Seungkwan?” Jihoon groans again, and Seungkwan sniffs, turning his nose snobbishly up in the air.

“Everyone stops when they hear Celine Dion, hyung. It’s a known fact!”

“I was thinking we could sing something happier,” Joshua cuts in, gentle and placating in his suggestion. “Something that can lift people’s spirits, you know?”

“How about Carly Rae Jepsen’s I Really Like You?” Seokmin asks. “That song makes everyone happy.”

“How does it go again?” Joshua asks.

“You know! I really, really, really, really, really, really like you. And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too?”

“Oh yeah!” Joshua perks up with a soft smile. “It is a pretty happy song. Let’s go with it!”

“What kind of carolers are we?” Jihoon grumbles, just as Jeonghan says: “Alright! In three…two…one, let’s get that money, boys!”

The five of them begin singing in perfect harmony, voices only the tiniest bit nasally from the cold. Smiling, they exchange glances, feeling oddly happy and free to be standing together in a park, belting their lungs out to a bunch of passing strangers as tiny, white snowflakes drift down to catch onto their eyelashes and upturned lips.

“I really wanna stop but I just got the taste for it. I feel like I could fly with the boy on the moon. So honey hold my hand, you like making me wait for it. I feel like I could die walking up to the room, oh yeah. Late night watching television, but how’d we get in this position? It’s way too soon, I know this isn’t love. But I need to tell you something.”

An elderly lady walks up to them just as they’re about to hit the chorus. Laughing, Seokmin bounds towards her with a sunny smile of his face and outstretched hands. “Dance with me, auntie!” He says through his bright beam, and the lady laughs before slipping her withered hands into Seokmin’s. The two of them begin swaying gently together as the chorus starts up.

“I really, really, really, really, really, really like you. And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too? I really, really, really, really, really, really like you. And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too? Oh, did I say too much? I’m so in my head, when we’re out of touch. I really, really, really, really, really, really like you. And I want you, do you want me, do you want me too?”

People begin to gather around them, smiles blossoming on their faces at the sight of Seokmin waltzing around with an older lady to a peppy, pop song. The lady is laughing, a pink blush dotting her cheeks as Seokmin directs the lyrics to her with a genuine smile on his face.

Smiling, Seungkwan waves gentle fingers towards a young boy and girl standing along the edge of the crowd. They wave back, shy and uncertain, and Seungkwan breaks away from the group – who shoo him off with bright smiles – to approach the two kids.

“Want to dance?” He asks just as the second chorus starts up again, and soon, he’s twirling in circles with one tiny hand clutched in each of his.

The five of them go through several pop songs and multiple dance partners; the sound of laughter begins mingling with their singing voices, and the happy sounds fill the park, making the entire place glow with something almost magical in its cheerfulness.

(Mr. Brightside turns out to be very popular musical choice.)


-x-


When the caroling team makes it back to the soup kitchen, the remaining eight men are sitting on the outside curb, catching white snowflakes in their hair and laughing together.

“—I am de-lighted that you managed to find a fire extinguisher, Chan!” Junhui is saying at that moment – an arm curled around Minghao’s shoulder – with a familiar smug and happy smile on his face which can only mean that an inappropriate pun had been made.

The way the rest of their friends (minus Hansol, who positively falls over from laughing) groan at the Chinese man’s words only solidifies that suspicion.

“Seriously, hyung?” Mingyu clucks his tongue in disapproval, though the mirth dancing in his eyes undermines his words. “This is no time for jokes! We could have died in there.”

“That pun only took me ten minutes to think up!” Junhui proclaims proudly, completely ignoring the taller man’s words, and Mingyu rolls his eyes but offers his hyung two thumbs up in approval.

“Seokmin!” Soonyoung screeches just then, eyes catching sight of the approaching caroling team. The dark-haired columnist jumps to his feet before rushing across to asphalt towards his dongsaeng. Seokmin, likewise, begins running towards Soonyoung with outstretched arms, and they meet somewhere in the middle before proceeding to fill the darkened streets with their blinding love.  

“Seokmin! Oh, I missed you so much!” Soonyoung cries out dramatically into the column of Seokmin’s neck. “Did you have fun? Did you miss me as well?”

“Oh, hyung! Of course I missed you, hyung!” Seokmin declares while nuzzling his face against the top of Soonyoung’s head. “I did have fun, though I would have had more fun with you by my side.”

Soonyoung peers up at Seokmin with dark, glittering eyes that seem to reflect all the stars in the sky. Pressing a hand against Seokmin’s chest, Soonyoung smiles softly up at the younger man. “I’m always with you, Seokmin. Even if I’m not actually with you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Seokmin says with an equally tender smile on his face. “And I hope you know that no matter how far apart we are, I’m yours, Soonyoung-hyung.”

“You’re mine, and I’m yours,” Soonyoung whispers, before leaning up and catching Seokmin’s lips in a soft kiss. Pulling away after a moment, Soonyoung lets his fingers trace the sharp shape of Seokmin’s cheekbone, asking: “So what did you guys do?”

“We ended up at that park I took you to for our date,” Seokmin says, letting his hands rest gently on Soonyoung’s waist. Gently rocking side-to-side, Seokmin continues. “I danced with this older auntie. It was really nice; she was really sweet.”

Soonyoung gasps dramatically. “An older auntie?” He asks. “Am I being replaced by an older auntie, Seokmin? Is that what you want in a partner?” When Seokmin just throws his head back in laughter, Soonyoung grins toothily. “I can be an older auntie if you want, Seokmin. I can be a grandma if that’s what it takes to keep you.”

“Oh my god, hyung,” Seokmin huffs against Soonyoung’s forehead, but the older man pulls away.

“Grandpa?” Soonyoung croaks out, adopting an extremely believable old woman’s voice. “Is that you, grandpa?”

“It’s me, grandma,” Seokmin says, adopting an equally flamboyant old man’s voice to match with his partner’s. “I thought I had lost you forever, grandma.”

“Never,” Soonyoung continues. “You can never lose me, grandpa. No matter what, I’ll always come back to you.”

“Oh, grandma,” Seokmin breathes out before opening his arms. “Let me hold you, grandma. I’ve been without you for so long.”

“Oh, grandpa!” Soonyoung cries before tossing himself into Seokmin’s outstretched arms.

Seokmin just folds Soonyoung into his embrace before pressing one more kiss to the older man’s forehead.

“I love you, grandma.”

“And I love you, grandpa.”

“They’re ridiculous,” Jihoon grumbles. The caroling team has reached the soup kitchen team at this point, and the eleven of them are waiting by the curb, staring out at Seokmin and Soonyoung who are now swaying back and forth in the middle of the parking lot.

“They’re kind of sweet,” Joshua says with a tinkling laughter. Jihoon mumbles something indecipherable under his breath, and the older man laughs before turning towards the soup kitchen team. “How were things? Is everything okay?”

The remaining seven of them exchange vaguely furtive glances before nodding slowly.

“Good, everything turned out alright,” Mingyu says, only the slightest bit shifty.

“I mean, there was a small incident with a tiny kitchen fire, but other than that, it was pretty much smooth sailing,” Wonwoo agrees.

“You guys set the kitchen on fire?” Seungkwan cries out, and Mingyu is quick with his reassurances of: “Of course we didn’t! I mean, look! The soup kitchen is clearly still intact; everything’s fine!”  

“As a side-note,” Seungcheol pipes up as Joshua’s eyes widen in horror and Jihoon rolls his in a move that conveys a total lack of surprise at these horrendous developments, “the kitchen fire was not my fault. I had nothing to do with it, at all.”

“Cheolie, people could have gotten hurt. This is no time to brag about the fact that you’re not the worst menace in the kitchen,” Jeonghan chides the older man mockingly. Seungcheol glowers up at the blonde journalist in response.

“I can never win with you,” he grumbles. Jeonghan just shoots him a cheeky wink.

“And how did you guys do?” Hansol pipes up, staring at Joshua with wide, inquisitive eyes. “Did you get a lot of donations?”

“Yeah,” Joshua replies with a bright smile. “We ended up at a park, which was…which was really nice.” Looking around for a moment, Joshua bites on his bottom lip in quiet contemplation before coming to a conclusion. “I was actually thinking about returning after giving Daejung-ssi the money. Do you guys want to come along? We can rent some skates and drink some hot chocolate; it’ll be really nice.”

Everyone looks at each other for a moment before seemingly coming to a unanimous decision. Jihoon smirks, leaning over to brush his hand gently along Joshua’s elbow. “I mean, you are everyone’s favourite. How could we ever say no?”

Joshua laughs at Jihoon’s words, and the shorter editor shoots the older man one last cheeky grin before turning around and shouting at Seokmin and Soonyoung who are still swaying together in the distance.

“Hey! You two idiots! Stop dawdling in the parking lot; you’re going to get hit by a car, and I’m sure as hell not going to visit you guys in the hospital. We’re heading back to the park. Get over here right now if you’re gonna join us!”


-x-


Chan is in the middle of taking an unflattering picture of Hansol with his phone – the blonde photographer is flailing around on the rink as Junhui desperately attempts to prevent him from falling flat on his ass – when Seungkwan plops down onto the bench next to him.

The older man doesn’t say anything for a long moment, so Chan simply continues taking shots of their friends hanging around – one shot of Jeonghan and Joshua sharing a cup of hot cocoa, one of Jihoon’s nose crinkling up in disgust at something Soonyoung laughingly says, a quick snap of Minghao throwing a snowball at the back of an unsuspecting Mingyu, and one last shot of Hansol; his face is bright with happiness as he falls over, dragging a screaming Junhui along with him – as he waits for Seungkwan to gather his thoughts, and say what he needs to say.

“When did you take up photography?” is what Seungkwan finally settles on.

“Just a while ago, hyung.”

“Oh.” Another heavy silence settles over them, but Chan remains patient as Seungkwan fidgets uncomfortable beside him.

Finally, the blonde journalist takes in a shuddery breath. “Chan,” he murmurs, as light and wispy as the puff of foggy air that escapes his mouth.

“Yeah, hyung?” Chan asks, keeping his eyes trained away from the other in an attempt to make him feel less exposed.

“I have…I have a stupid question to ask you.”

“Okay.”

“What’s…what’s Hansol like?”

The question is hesitant, and quiet, and somehow frail. It’s asked in a way that’s so unlike Seungkwan’s usual seemingly confident nature that Chan can’t help but look over at him. Seungkwan is staring out into the skating rink where Chan knows Hansol is falling all over himself and Junhui. His nose and cheeks are mottled with delicate blotches of pink, and his eyes somehow seem so…sad. Chan breathes in deeply – carefully going through the thoughts in his head that are somehow simultaneously loud yet soft at the same time – before he begins to speak.

“Hansol-hyung is a little bit weird. His mind is always somewhere else, but it’s okay because you know he’s still listening to you. It’s just…he lives in his head a lot, and he thinks a lot of things. It’s funny because he has the sense of humour and music tastes of a twelve-year-old boy, but he talks like he’s this really old philosopher. He’s…he’s really kind. And he’s funny. I’m glad I know him, hyung.”

Seungkwan sits there, quietly listening to what Chan has to say. Snowflakes continue drifting down from the sky, catching onto the lights of the lanterns and glittering from their perch on Seungkwan’s dark eyelashes and blonde strands of hair. Finally, he says: “Thanks, Channie.”

Chan offers his hyung a smile, swallowing the multitude of words lingering on his tongue, and settles with a gentle: “Hey, Seungkwan-hyung…there’s nothing silly about still caring for Hansol-hyung.”

If Seungkwan’s eyes seem oddly wet under the park lanterns, Chan doesn’t bother saying anything about it.

“Aish, look at this child,” Seungkwan says through a tremulous smile. “Lecturing his hyung on such grown-up things.”

“Ahhh, it’s because I’m surrounded by hyungs who all apparently need the wisdom of their young dongsaeng.”

Chan laughs, letting Seungkwan playfully push him for such insolence before allowing himself to be drawn into a light hug by the older man. Chan pats Seungkwan’s back and ignores the warm wetness that begins to gather on the side of his neck as Seungkwan simply cuddles closer to his dongsaeng.




“Go talk to him, hyung,” Minghao says, and Seungcheol jumps in shock at the younger man’s sudden appearance beside him. Leaning against the skating rink’s barrier, Minghao shoots the older man a knowing look and adds, “I know you want to.”

When Seungcheol just frowns uncertainly beside him, Minghao asks, “What do you have to lose?”

“I don’t know…”

Minghao smiles and gently nudges Seungcheol with one pointy elbow. Seungcheol yelps lightly, but Minghao simply talks over the pained complaint. “Go, hyung. You guys might not be together, but I know how nice it must be to just be around him anyway. Why deprive yourself of that?”

Seungcheol bites on his bottom lip, clearly contemplating the idea, before the furrow between his brows smoothens out, and he smiles teasingly at the younger man. “When did you become such a love expert, huh?”

“I’ve been in love for years, hyung,” Minghao smirks in return. “I’m fantastic at it. Now go.”

“Okay, okay,” Seungcheol laughs, throwing his hands up in a universal sign of surrender. “I’m going.”

Minghao watches as Seungcheol carefully waddles his way across the snowy slopes to get to where Jihoon is sitting on a bench, cradling a paper cup of hot cocoa in his hands. Seungcheol plops down on the bench beside the younger man, saying something and causing Jihoon to let out his usual sharp laughter. The two of them begin talking, clearly enjoying each other’s presence, and Minghao smiles fondly at the way the two of them positively relax around each other; their tense muscles uncoil as playful jabs and wide grins are exchanged.

A sudden violent slam against the rink barrier forces Minghao away from his observations, and he turns around to meet Junhui’s beaming face.

“Hi,” the older man says, cheeks flushed from exertion and joy and eyes filled with boundless affection.

“Hi,” Minghao says, reaching out and rubbing his thumbs over Junhui’s knuckles. “Are you done falling down and making a fool of yourself?”

“Mean,” Junhui says with a playful pout, before it melts away into his usual sweet smile. “But yeah, I think I want a break. My feet hurt.”

“Okay.” Minghao pulls the skating rink door open before helping Junhui out. Holding onto the older man’s hands the whole time to prevent him from slipping, Minghao pushes Junhui down onto a nearby bench before kneeling in front of him and unlacing his skates for him.

“Thank you, HaoHao,” Junhui says after Minghao tucks away the skates and helps Junhui into his own boots.

“What would you do without me, hmm?” Minghao teases as he settles in beside Junhui on the bench. The older man simply laughs and cuddles into Minghao’s side. Looking up and meeting Minghao’s eyes, Junhui’s face crinkles up in happiness as he laughingly says: “I’ll probably just be sad and lonely forever without you, HaoHao.”

“Well we can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t,” Junhui agrees, before he leans up and gently kisses away one of the snowflakes caught on the bow of Minghao’s lips. Leaning back, he gently lets his thumb brush over the smooth roundness of Minghao’s cheek before shamelessly saying: “I must be a snowflake, because I’ve fallen for you, HaoHao.”  

Minghao’s groan of disgust is interrupted by Junhui, who chases away the disapproving sound with upturned lips, happy giggles, and more soft kisses.




Mingyu is awkwardly standing behind Wonwoo as they’re waiting in line to order some hot cocoa.

“Um…Wonwoo-hyung?” He finally says, when he can’t stand looking at the back of the other man’s head any longer as a thousand words left unspoken bubble up insistently in his throat. Wonwoo stiffens up a little – either from shock or something else – before he turns around and shoots Mingyu a hesitant smile.

“Hi Mingyu-ah,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice a welcome and soothing sound in the cool darkness of the night.

“I just…I wanted to apologize for yelling at you earlier. I was out of line,” Mingyu says. Wonwoo’s eyes widen in surprise before the older man is shaking his head.

“No, it’s fine,” Wonwoo insists before grinning a bit self-deprecatingly. “I did end up accidentally throwing oily water into a fire.”

“Which was still a dumb move, but I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry, hyung.”

The smile on Wonwoo’s face softens into something more genuine, and Mingyu feels the rock that has been lodged in his chest for weeks – if not years – finally loosen up a little bit. “It’s okay,” Wonwoo says, and Mingyu just takes in the sight of the older man, ethereal and beautiful under the lamplight. “There was a fire, and you were panicking. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t screamed.”

Mingyu chuckles a bit breathlessly. “So that’s how you think of me, huh, hyung?”

“I still remember you juggling the pink eggplant off a balcony, so yeah. This is how I think of you.”

Mingyu lets out a bark of surprised laughter as Wonwoo’s smile takes on a familiar teasing edge that the younger man hadn’t seen in a long time. Still chuckling, Mingyu throws back a semi-defensive: “And I remember you tossing the pink eggplant into the canal in all of your drunken glory, so what does that say about you, Wonwoo-hyung?”

“It just says that you have a shit memory,” is Wonwoo’s quick answer. Mingyu gapes at the older man for a moment before breaking into another round of semi-disbelieving laughter. Shaking his head in amusement, Mingyu and Wonwoo stand there for a moment, smiling somewhat dopily at each other before a sharp bark of: “Next!” breaks them out of their peaceful reverie.

Shooting Mingyu one last hesitant smile, Wonwoo turns around to place his order, and Mingyu is left staring at the back of Wonwoo’s head.




Later on – when all thirteen of them are sitting together in a circle – Joshua says, with as much sincerity as all the other times: “Seriously, thank you guys for tonight. It really means a lot that you guys went out of your way to help me.”

“Hey, any time, Joshua,” Seungcheol says, offering the younger man a smile. “I mean, you’ve stuck with me through thick and thin. This was the least I could do.”

Joshua laughs, shooting Seungcheol a knowing look. “I don’t know what you mean, Seungcheol.”

“He means his general existence, Joshua. And also probably the goats,” Jeonghan pipes up from beside Joshua, and Seungcheol groans.

“I still can’t believe that happened. Soonyoung, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to save a bunch of innocent goats!” Soonyoung passionately proclaims. “And I did! I regret nothing.”

“I mean, it is because of the goats that we discovered the black mold, Cheolie,” Jeonghan pipes up, ever the devil’s advocate.

“How did a hole end up in the wall anyway?” Chan pipes up, and Seungcheol points an accusatory finger at Jeonghan.

“His namesake decided it’d be fun to chew through our plaster.”

“So technically, my namesake saved us all from asthma,” Jeonghan says with a flippant flick of his fingers. “Besides, the hole was beside Mingyu’s desk. If anything, Mingyu should have noticed Little Jeonghan biting through the plaster and stopped them.”

“I was busy cleaning up goat poop the whole day!” Mingyu defends himself. “I was barely at my desk at all. Every time I sat down, someone was dragging me off somewhere to clean up more goat feces!”

“Technically, I’m more concerned about the black mold. Do you know how long we spent breathing in the mold, Seungcheol-hyung?” Wonwoo asks, and Seungcheol looks down and mumbles something totally indecipherable. Jihoon, sitting beside the older man, snorts and shoots them all a flat look.

“We’re all probably going to die soon,” he says.

“What are your plans for the holidays?” Junhui pipes up, effectively interrupting the mobid conversation before it can get any more grotesque. “We should all do something together!”

“Like what, Junnie?” Seungcheol asks, and the Chinese man hums for a moment, staring up at the sky in thought before perking up.

“We should have a potluck! It’ll be fun.”

“Oh, and we can bring board games!” Seokmin pipes up, beaming at the mere thought. Soonyoung cheers in agreement, wrapping his arms tighter around the younger man in a clear show of support.

Seungkwan, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, breaks into a small smile and adds: “Is it really a good idea, all of us playing board games? I have a feeling things are going to get uncomfortably competitive.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Minghao says. “But if we play Twister, just know this: I’m going to beat you all.”

“Here we go,” Seungkwan mutters. Hansol – sitting a few spots away from the blonde journalist – bites down on his bottom lip to stop the amused smile from blossoming on his face.

“You might be good at Twister, Minghao, but you suck at Monopoly. And that’s where I’m gonna shine,” Mingyu says. Minghao just raises an eyebrow and shoots Mingyu a come hither gesture, to which the taller man simply scoops up a bit of snow and tosses it in the Chinese man’s general direction. He misses terribly; Minghao openly scoffs at him.  

“I’m all for a potluck and board games.” Jeonghan says, before he shoots Seungcheol a look of contempt. “But Cheolie is forbidden from cooking. He tried to make Alfredo pasta a while ago, and it came out orange.”

“It was seafood Alfredo pasta! The orange clearly came from the lobster pigment!” Seungcheol defends himself at the same time Joshua turns to Jeonghan and says: “That’s what you brought back?”

Jihoon snorts before turning back towards everyone. “So it’s decided then, I guess. We’ll have a potluck and play some board games sometime.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan mutters, though the look in his eyes is fond. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

(Junhui, Hansol, and Mingyu end up with food poisoning; Minghao accidentally breaks Seungcheol’s coffee table while very aggressively playing Twister; everyone almost declares war on each other thanks to a very unfortunate game of Pictionary; Soonyoung ends up locked out on the balcony for a good seventeen minutes (Jihoon swears that he had nothing to do with it); and Jeonghan knocks over Seungcheol’s Christmas tree in the general chaos that falls over all of them.

The night ends with the thirteen of them all cuddled around Seungcheol’s living room though, watching a bunch of Christmas classics and sharing packets of cookies and cups of hot milk. It’s pretty nice.)  

Chapter Text

“Thank you, thank you,” Soonyoung says when the elevator doors open on a bright and chilly Friday morning. Gliding out of the metal contraption, the black-haired journalist just continues to smile genially. Nodding gently to who knows what, he continues to say: “Thank you so much. I’m not sure I deserve this, but thank you. Thank you, mother! Thank you, father! Thank you, Academy! Yes, of course I’ll take you under my wing, Mr. Hemsworth; I’ll make sure to impart on you all the knowledge of the universe so that you can become an even greater Norse god!”

“What the hell are you doing, you idiot?” Jihoon asks from the doorway of his office, a wholly unimpressed look painted on his face and a steaming cup of coffee hanging off his fingers.

“My dear Jihoon,” Soonyoung begins, gesturing grandly at absolutely nothing. “I am simply practicing my speech for when I accept my LEMA tonight. It shall be a positively grand event.”

Jihoon’s equally unimpressed question of: “Why the hell are you talking like some eighteenth-century aristocrat?” mingles with Wonwoo’s dry: “You do realize that a nomination doesn’t equal a sure-fire win, right?”

Soonyoung just chortles happily before waving off the two questions with a careless flap of his arm. “Oh my silly, acute Wonwoo, you can always practice, even in the face of a mere possibility!”

“I think you meant obtuse,” Wonwoo says, but Soonyoung simply flips his bangs in the most snooty manner possible before skipping to his desk.

Snorting, Wonwoo ducks back into his office at the dismissal, while Junhui pipes up from his desk with a sweet smile: “What are you nominated for again, Soonyoung-ah?”

Twirling on the spot in order to face the Chinese man, Soonyoung declares dramatically: “Best Fluff Piece of the Year!”

“Oh,” Minghao drawls out while Junhui coos in clear admiration beside him. “Best Fluff Piece of the Year. I can definitely see why you think Chris Hemsworth will be asking you for your sagely advice, being nominated for such a prestigious award and all.”

“It is quite prestigious, isn’t it?” Soonyoung says with a puffed out chest. “Almost beats Jeonghan-hyung’s Best Comedic Piece of the Year award!”

“Hey! I take offense to that!” Jeonghan says, semi-mockingly glaring at his toothily beaming dongsaeng. Pausing, he adds after a moment: “Namely because my piece on the closing of the local nature museum wasn’t even supposed to be a funny piece.”

“You probably shouldn’t have added so many puns to it then, Jeonghan,” Joshua says.

“They were quite tragic puns,” Jeonghan mutters. “Jun agreed.”

“And there’s your first mistake, hyung,” Seungkwan say from his desk, just as Junhui happily chirps up with a proud little smile: “For a fungi to grow, you must give it as mushroom as possible!”

Hansol chokes on his iced coffee while Minghao smiles in exasperation at his lover’s goofy antics. Seungkwan just throws his hands up in the air, his point clearly made.

The elevator doors slide open again then, with Chan and Seungcheol emerging.

“—after you help me rename the last four months’ expense reports, I need you to give Seongsu-ssi a call to confirm if he plans on stopping by next Monday,” Seungcheol is in the middle of saying to a highly-attentive looking Chan, who’s rapidly typing up the older man’s instructions down onto his phone. “He mentioned that he would stop by sometime before four, but try to wrangle out a more concrete time from him. I can’t just spend all day waiting for him to appear; I’ll lose my mind.”

“Sure thing, hyung!” Chan shoots Seungcheol a bright smile.

“Seungcheol-hyung!” Mingyu calls out from his desk.

“Good morning, Mingyu,” Seungcheol replies as he walks past the taller man to get to his office.

“Ah, good morning, hyung,” Mingyu amends before repeating again with the same urgency: “Seungcheol-hyung!”

“Yes, Mingyu-ah?” Seungcheol asks, turning around to face the younger man with a hand resting on the door knob and a cup of hot coffee clutched in his other.

“I know you said on Monday that the LEMA Ceremony is super formal, and we should dress in a formal manner, but how formal does ‘formal manner’ actually mean, hyung?”

Seungcheol stares at Mingyu’s sheepish face for a long moment. “You’ve been to the LEMA Ceremony before, Mingyu. You know what formal attire means.”

“I know, but let’s just say I show up in a dress shirt and tie without a suit jacket…would that…would that be acceptable?”

Seungcheol’s already highly unimpressed face somehow becomes even more unimpressed.

“What happened to your suit jacket, Mingyu?”

“He spilled chicken curry all over it last night,” Minghao pipes up before Mingyu can scrounge up an acceptable answer. The taller man splutters in disbelief as Minghao continues: “There’s yellow stains and oil all over it now.”

“Why were you even eating chicken curry in your suit jacket?” Seungcheol blurts out before shaking his head. “No. Actually, I don’t want to know.”

“His dress pants are okay though,” Minghao says in defense of Mingyu, before dismantling his previously supportive words with a nonchalant, “because he was actually wearing sweatpants with his suit jacket.”

“Minghao!” Mingyu hisses.

“They were Dolce & Gabbana sweatpants though,” Minghao amends. “So Mingyu was still pretty classy.”

“Why do you even have Dolce & Gabbana sweatpants, hyung?” Seungkwan asks.

“I—I went through a small phase; don’t ask,” Mingyu answers quickly. Seungkwan just ends up looking even more incredulous.

Before anyone else can say anything about Mingyu’s apparent high-end taste in sweatpants, the elevator doors open up once more.

“Yes, that is indeed my one true love up on stage, winning the most prestigious award of the evening!” Seokmin appears with his usual love of theatrics on display. “Why, of course I can introduce you to him, Mr. Clooney! He’s a busy man though; I believe he plans on having afternoon tea with Ms. Jolie today. Perhaps he can pencil you in for tomorrow? Your treat, of course.”

“Do the two of you idiots even know what the LEMA Ceremony actually is?” Jihoon asks in exasperation.

“You do realize that winning a LEMA isn’t the same as winning an Academy Award, right?” Jeonghan asks. “Because if they were one in the same, you do know that I’d be on a yacht right now surrounded by beautiful people, right? Eating as many pieces of sashimi as I can and holding a fancy class of mimosa in my hand without actually drinking it.”

“Wait. What is a LEMA?” Hansol asks from where he’s sitting beside Chan.

“Oh, Hansol-hyung,” Chan clucks his tongue in pity.

Seungcheol takes another long drag of his coffee before slipping into his office and closing the door with a click of finality.

“Wait, Seungcheol-hyung!” Mingyu calls out in the direction of the closed office door. “What do I do about my suit jacket, Seungcheol-hyung? Seungcheol-hyung!”


-x-


“Oh, so this is what a LEMA is,” Hansol mutters as he stares up at the large overhead banner hanging above them. “Thirty-Second Annual Local Entertainment Media Award Ceremony; makes sense why Soonyoung-hyung was practicing an acceptance speech now.”

“You’re as slow as ever,” Seungkwan mutters only semi-spitefully from beside the photographer, and Hansol dares to shoot the blonde journalist a small, abashed smile.

“I kind of tend to block out Seungcheol-hyung after the first ten minutes,” he admits sheepishly, and Seungkwan rolls his eyes, feeling just a tad bit amused despite himself.

“One day Seungcheol-hyung is going to say something actually important, and you’re going to miss it.”

Hansol only offers a small shrug of his shoulders. “I tend to miss out on all the important things in my life anyway.”

“Maybe work on changing that, jackass,” Seungkwan grumbles, letting his eyes linger on the finely dressed people already mingling around. He can feel Hansol’s brown eyes staring at the side of his head, but he does his best to ignore it. Breathing in deeply, he tries to ignore the quiet fluttering in his stomach and the gentle ache in his chest to no avail; like most things in his life, they linger in his peripheral, never fully gone but never wholly there.

After a long moment, Hansol’s eyes finally leave him, and the photographer breathes out gentle: “Maybe.”

The word rests there, suspended between the two of them, and they simply continue staring out at the sea of well-dressed people as something close to a fragile kind of peace blossoms between them.

“Seungkwan! Hansol-ah!” A voice suddenly calls out amidst the murmuring den. The two of them look up, temporarily freed from their contemplations to see a beaming Junhui making his way towards them while Minghao follows a mere two steps behind.

“Hello!” Junhui says the moment he reaches them, tossing his lanky arms around Hansol before wrapping himself around Seungkwan in a tight, clingy hug. “You two look very handsome! Especially you, Seungkwan; I love your jacket!”

“Ah, thank you, Junnie-hyung,” Seungkwan says as a real smile twists at his lips. “You look pretty handsome yourself. I love what you did with your hair; how long did it take you to style it like that, huh, hyung?”

Junhui giggles, smiling shyly at the compliment. “HaoHao helped me with my hair. All I did was sit there and let him work his magic.”

“Well I’m sure sitting still is hard work too,” Seungkwan says.

“With how much he was talking, you can bet it was hard work,” Minghao says with an affectionate roll of his eyes. Laughing lightly at the way Junhui gives him a punishing poke to the side, he asks: “Are you two the only ones here?”

“Seungcheol-hyung is out there, mingling with important people along with Jeonghan-hyung and Joshua-hyung,” Seungkwan answers, tilting his chin towards the crowd. As if on cue, the sea of people parts just so; Seungcheol appears in the gap of well-dressed individuals, Jeonghan looming over his shoulder and whispering something into his ear that’s causing his face to contort in horror while Joshua flanks his other side, a fond look lingering in his eyes as he shakes his head over the two men’s antics.

“I wonder what Jeonghan-hyung is whispering to Seungcheol-hyung,” Junhui muses out loud.

“Probably something sinful,” Minghao answers.

“But nothing too sinful since Joshua-hyung is still smiling,” Seungkwan adds.

The four of them continue to stare at their three hyungs for a moment before simultaneously turning back around to face each other.

“So I guess it’s just the seven of us here then,” Minghao says.

“Actually I’m pretty sure I saw Jihoon-hyung hiding out in one of the coatrooms when I first arrived,” Hansol says.

“See, why is Jihoon-hyung even here if he’s just going to create a nest out of peoples’ expensive coats in a coatroom?” Seungkwan asks.

A small smirk blossoms on Minghao’s lips, and the Chinese man conspiratorially leans in closer to the blonde journalist, knowingly answering, “Probably because Seungcheol-hyung asked him to come.”

Junhui lets out a bright, tinkling laugh while Seungkwan throws his head back as an exasperated groan rips its way out of his throat. “They’re so not subtle, they’re so not subtle,” he mutters under his breath before asking in a louder voice: “Do they really think they’re fooling anyone?”

“Seungcheol-hyung knows that we all know,” Minghao answers before letting his shoulders rise and fall in a nonchalant shrug. “Though I’m not sure Jihoon-hyung knows that he feels anything for Seungcheol-hyung.”

“It’s pretty obvious though,” Junhui chimes in with a thoughtful look on his face.

“At least they’re not tossing themselves into each other’s arms on a daily basis like Soonyoung-hyung and Seokmin-hyung.” Pausing, Seungkwan suddenly shudders. “Oh god, that was a terrifying image.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Seungkwan,” Minghao says. Seungkwan just sniffs in response.

“So what are we actually supposed to do here?” Hansol asks as he continues gazing out into the sea of people.

“Oh yeah. This is your first LEMA Ceremony!” Junhui exclaims.

“Honestly we’re all just here to offer Soonyoung-hyung moral support,” Minghao says, shooting Hansol a reassuring grin. “Since we’re not really required to schmooze around, you can just eat as much finger food as you want and stay out of everyone’s way before the ceremony begins. It’ll pass by quick.”

“You’ll be fine, Hansol-ah,” Junhui offers the photographer, letting one hand rub soothingly over the younger man’s shoulder. Hansol shoots his hyung a genuine smile and murmurs a soft: “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Junhui says sweetly before letting go of his dongsaeng. Perking up, Junhui’s glittering eyes catch sight of someone. “Oh! It’s Wonwoo-ah. Let’s go say hi, HaoHao.”

“Of course,” Minghao agrees. Shooting a quirk of the lips to the two younger men and a quick: “We’ll see you guys later”, Minghao offers Junhui the crook of his elbow like a true gentleman – which Junhui laughingly takes – before whisking the older man away.

The silence that descends over Seungkwan and Hansol following their two hyungs departure is new and yet not – the familiarity over having much to say but the inability to actually say any of it is still there, but there’s a surprising lack of hostility which makes it feel all new and shaky. Staring out into the sea of well-dressed people, all of them holding flutes of champagne and wearing studied masks of genial interest, Seungkwan can’t help but feel tired and sick of wearing his own mask of over-amplified hate. He lets his hurt and distrust simmer back down to a more manageable level, and breathes in time with the slow aching of his chest.

“I’m going to go grab something to drink,” Seungkwan murmurs, pushing off from the wall. A few steps forward and he pauses. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes in a deep breath before offering his own sort of truce: “You can come with me if you want.”

He doesn’t stop or turn around to see if Hansol takes him up on his offer. He doesn’t need to though; Hansol follows behind him in a familiar shadow, but this time the thing that’s doggedly running after him is concrete, and real, and as handsome and as beautiful as ever.


-x-


“Okay, the woman wearing the green dress is Bong-Cha-ssi. Apparently, she has mono right now; caught it from the mail-carrier that she enjoys having over for afternoon tea,” Jeonghan whispers furtively over Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Seungcheol somehow manages to accomplish the impossible feat of simultaneously smiling and scowling at the same time. “That’s not helpful, Jeonghan. I’m not going to make small talk with Bong-Cha-ssi over her mono.”

“You could. You caught it once, remember? In our first year of university.”

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol hisses semi-frantically as Bong-Cha makes her way through the crowd towards them.

“She’s the head editor of Metro Daily and she’s here because she’s been nominated for her editorial on the best bird-watching sites,” Joshua quickly cuts in before Jeonghan can say anything.

“Thank you, Joshua,” Seungcheol sighs in relief before a look of confusion blossoms on his face. “Wait. Bird-watching—?”

“Seungcheol-ssi!” Bong-cha exclaims, seemingly materializing before the three men and drawing the eldest into a quick embrace. “It’s been too long! How have you been?”

“Bong-cha-ssi! It’s great seeing you again,” Seungcheol manages to say. He ignores the way Jeonghan snorts behind him with dignified grace and continues on as if nothing has happened. “I’ve been good; I was just telling Joshua and Jeonghan here how much I enjoyed reading your editorial on the best bird-watching sites.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you enjoyed, Seungcheol-ssi,” Bong-cha demurs with a shy smile. “Are you interested in bird-watching?”

“Yes, definitely,” Jeonghan answers before Seungcheol can get a word in. “His favourite bird happens to be the pigeon.”

“Oh,” Bong-cha says. The surprised look on her face melts away quickly though, and she offers Seungcheol another smile. “You’re interested in the Columbidae, then?”

“Yes,” Seungcheol grits out. “I’m very interested in the Columbia.”

“The Columbidae, Cheolie,” Jeonghan says with a playful smirk twisting at his lips.

“Yes. That. That bird.”

It’s only Joshua’s exceedingly polite demeanor that prevents him from face-palming at the absurdity of the conversation happening before him.


-x-


“How do I look, Channie?” Soonyoung asks, giving a quick twirl after leaving his jacket in the coatroom.

“You look like a total winner, hyung!” Chan chirps loyally, and Soonyoung smiles, leaning over to give Chan a small pat on his cheek.

“How about me? How do I look?” Seokmin asks, opening his arms out to show off his well-tailored suit.

“You look like a total trophy, hyung,” Chan says with a sure nod of his head. “Totally worthy of hanging off a winner’s arm.”

“Exactly what I was going for!” Seokmin declares. Soonyoung laughs brightly and launches himself at Seokmin, who catches him with practiced ease and gives a small twirl while holding his hyung up. Finally letting go, Seokmin allows Soonyoung’s feet to meet the polished floor of the fancy lobby before lowering himself into a dramatic bow.

“My good sir,” he begins in a deeper timbre than usual. “Will you allow me the honour of accompanying you to tonight’s event?”

“Oh my kind man,” Soonyoung replies, equally dramatic. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Are you certain that it is me that you want? You can have anyone in the world: Mr. Clooney, the two Mr. Hemsworths, Ms. Nyong’o, even Ms. Jolie!” Pausing to let his eyes flash dangerously, Seokmin gently grabs Soonyoung’s hand, placing a chaste kiss on the back of it before murmuring: “I find it prudent to inform you that once I have you, I will never be able to let you go.”

“Then have me!” Soonyoung exclaims. If Chan stares hard enough, he can swear that there’s tears glistening in his hyung’s eyes. “Just promise me that you’ll never let me go; I don’t think I’ll be able to bear a separation.”

“Never,” Seokmin promises with great strength and clarity. “If you will have me, I would like to have you for forever.”

“Forever sounds good to me.”

“Then forever is what we shall have.”

The two of them stand there for a moment – tense, and serious, and fraught with emotion – before they simultaneously soften up, giddy smiles and even giddier giggles blooming and spilling from them.

“Wow,” Chan says, blinking slowly as if still processing the spectacle he had just witnessed. “Maybe Soonyoung-hyung does deserve to win an Academy Award.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Soonyoung laughs, letting go of Seokmin in order to loop an arm around the intern’s. “Now let’s go and mingle!”

“Together!” Seokmin cheers, letting his own arm loop around Chan’s other one.

“Forever!” Soonyoung agrees.

Chan manages to let out a peal of amused laughter before being whisked away by his two overexcited hyungs.


-x-


Mingyu spots Wonwoo lingering on the edges of the crowd by himself and spends a few, long seconds debating if he should approach the older man before deciding screw it, and making his way towards the other. Wonwoo perks up a bit when he hears Mingyu’s approaching footfalls, and makes eye contact with the taller man. Rather than rushing away, the bespectacled editor stays rooted on the spot – even offering Mingyu a ghost of a smile – and Mingyu – in all in hopeful optimism – counts it as a win.

“Hi, Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu says once he’s close enough to not need to scream.  

“Hello, Mingyu,” Wonwoo offers in return.

Smiling softly, Mingyu gestures towards Wonwoo and asks, “Is it okay if I stay with you for a bit, hyung?”

While Wonwoo does hesitate for a moment, in the end he still nods in assent, and Mingyu lets out a breath of air that he didn’t know he had been holding in. Sidling beside the older man, Mingyu leans against the wall as well, leaving an acceptable distance between them.

“You…you look very handsome, Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu offers after a prolonged silence. Too scared and nervous to see what Wonwoo’s reaction would be to his much-too-earnest words, Mingyu continues looking out towards the main floor.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo murmurs after another thick, half-immovable silence. Another pause, before: “Are you wearing one of Jun’s suit jackets?”

Looking down at himself as if to confirm Wonwoo’s question, Mingyu lets out a small chuckle before nodding. “Yeah. Seungcheol-hyung did offer me a spare suit, but his—his build is sort of too different from mine.” Rubbing at the back of his head, Mingyu continues: “Junnie-hyung has a closest build to me, and he was kind enough to lend me a spare. It’s…it’s a bit tight across the shoulders though. I gotta be careful; knowing myself, if I’m not careful enough, I’m going to rip Junnie-hyung’s jacket or something.”

Wonwoo chuckles and looks down at his feet. “He’d forgive you,” he reassures the younger man. Mingyu pretends he can’t see the way Wonwoo is peeking at him from the corners of his sharp eyes, and murmurs his agreement.

Another stretch of silence, and then Wonwoo is teasingly saying, “I think Jun still wears it better than you, though.”

Mingyu blinks blankly at Wonwoo before a sharp bark of laughter is ripped from his throat; the sound is slightly jagged, breathless, and raspy from the wave of shock and relief that crashes over Mingyu, but there’s something unbearably freeing about being able to laugh around Wonwoo again, to joke with him.

“It’s hard to compete with Junnie-hyung,” Mingyu finally manages to say, through his shock and bliss and the sheer strength of his hopeful conviction.

“No, definitely,” Wonwoo agrees with a small smile before they taper off into silence again. This time though, the quiet was different: meaningful in a way it wasn’t before, tense in a way that’s almost foreign to them, and somehow all the more corporeal for it.

“Wonwoo-hyung…” Mingyu murmurs, eyes nailed to the smooth planes of Wonwoo’s handsome face like some sort of painful crucifixion. He can’t look away, tethered as he is to the elder. Silently, he wonders how he ever thought he could let the other go, wonders why he ever thought it was a smart idea to work with him while maintaining his aloofness, and questions how he could have ever whispered goodbye to Wonwoo and believe that it would be enough to simply stop. “Wonwoo-hyung…”

“Mingyu…I…” Mingyu watches the way Wonwoo’s throat bobs and wonders why, how, how?

Before anything can happen though – and Mingyu is simultaneously relieved and distraught at another lost prospect – a waiter holding a platter of finger foods sweep in. “Hors d’œuvres, gentlemen?”

“Yes, please,” Wonwoo manages to croak out. His eyes never leave Mingyu’s as he grabs a handful off the proffered dish. It’s only after the waiter moves away, leaving the bespectacled editor with two hands full of fancy-looking foods that Wonwoo drags his gaze away. He pops the hors d’œuvres into his mouth and chews quietly as Mingyu rakes his brain for something, anything, to say.

“Wonwoo-hyung…I—I want to ask you something,” Mingyu begins, hesitant and fearful of scaring Wonwoo off. “A…a while ago, you told me you needed a bit more time to figure some stuff out. Have you—have you had enough time now?” Are we going to act ‘normal’ around each other again?

“I…I think so. I hope so,” Wonwoo answers, timid yet earnest all the same. “Mingyu-ah, I—” The dark-haired editor suddenly breaks off, and a furrow appears between his brows. “I think I just ate seafood.”

“Wait, what?” Mingyu asks, blinking at the abrupt turn in conversation.

“Those hors d’œuvres,” Wonwoo answers. “I think they had shellfish in them.”

“Oh my…do you feel okay, hyung?” Mingyu asks, immediately fretting over the elder.

Wonwoo continues frowning. “I think so. I think I’m going to sit down though, just in case.”

“Do you need me to grab you anything? A glass of water, maybe?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Wonwoo replies, already pushing away from the wall and making his way towards any vacant seat.

“Of course not,” Mingyu responds. “Wonwoo-hyung…” Said editor turns around and meets Mingyu’s eyes with his own endless orbs; the younger man bites down on his bottom lip to stay the slew of words begging to be set free. Instead, he pastes on a smile and says, “Go sit down, hyung. I’ll come back with a glass of water soon.”

“Thank you, Mingyu,” is all Wonwoo says before walking away.

Mingyu watches him go, feeling strangely bereft – oddly accomplished yet defeated at the same time.


-x-


Minghao leads Junhui away from the general commotion towards the balcony. Stepping outside into the cold, evening air, Minghao feels like he can breathe again.

“HaoHao,” Junhui murmurs, wrapping two arms around Minghao’s waist and nestling into the younger man's side.

“Hmm?” Minghao hums, letting one of his arms drape over Junhui’s broad shoulders. “Are you cold?”

“Are you going to warm me up, HaoHao?” Junhui teases, brushing his nose against Minghao’s cheek.

“What, this isn’t keeping you warm enough?” Minghao teases in return, tightening his grip around Junhui’s shoulders as if to prove a point. When Junhui shakes his head with a playful pout on his lips, Minghao prepares to shrug out of his suit jacket so that Junhui will have an extra layer.

“Wait! What are you doing?” Junhui asks when Minghao gently untangles Junhui’s arms from around him.

“Giving you my jacket.”

“You’ll get cold, HaoHao!”

“I’ll be okay,” Minghao reassures the elder. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Please don’t take your jacket off!” Junhui demands, pulling Minghao’s suit jacket tighter as if that will prevent the younger man from shucking away the garment. “I was just joking; I’m not cold at all.”

“Are you sure?” Minghao asks, reaching out to brush a gentle thumb over the soft skin of Junhui’s cheek.

“Yes,” Junhui nods resolutely before smiling shyly at Minghao. “Just hold me?”

The younger man doesn’t bother dignifying that question with a response; instead, he drags Junhui close before wrapping tender arms around the other. Pressing his cheek against the side of Junhui’s head, Minghao begins rocking them side-to-side while humming something nonsensical under his breath. His aimless melody is enough to pull a happy giggle from Junhui, and the older man simply nuzzles closer, his eyelashes tickling the sensitive shell of Minghao’s ear.

They stay like that for a long moment, happy and content, before a voice suddenly says: “This is genuinely really sweet, but can you guys do that somewhere else? I was kind of here first.”

Junhui yelps in fear, and Minghao is quick to twist them around so that he’s bodily standing between Junhui and whoever just spoke. Looking over his shoulder at their intruder, Minghao only relaxes when he sees that the semi-disembodied voice is coming from Jihoon who seems to be retreating into his suit and dress shirt like a turtle.

“Jihoon-ah!” Junhui says, blinking pretty eyes at the younger editor. Disentangling himself from Minghao’s embrace, the older of the two makes his way across the balcony towards the shorter, blonde man. “What are you doing out here?”

“Hiding from literally everyone,” Jihoon answers. “What are you two doing out here? Wait—actually, I don’t want to know.”

“Nothing inappropriate!” Minghao defensively says. Making his way towards the two older men, Minghao watches as Junhui brushes a careful hand against Jihoon’s cheek before gasping.

“You’re freezing, Jihoon!” Junhui exclaims in concern. “How long have you been standing out here?”

“How long has the mingling session inside been going on?”

“At least a good forty-five minutes,” Minghao frowns, unhappy at the thought of Jihoon locking himself out on a balcony in a cold, windy evening without a jacket on.

“About forty-five minutes then, give or take.”

“Jihoon!” Junhui cries out. “Please go back inside and drink and eat something; you’re going to catch hypothermia at this rate!”

“I’ll be fine,” Jihoon dismisses.

“Jihoon…” Junhui murmurs.

“Junnie…” Jihoon mutters back in response. They stay at an impasse for a moment, Jihoon stubborn and even more stubborn still, and Junhui concerned, and disappointed, and all-around powerful in his quiet anxiety.

Finally, Jihoon groans and pushes away from the balcony railing.

“Fine!” He exclaims. “I’m going in now. Happy?”

“Very,” Junhui smiles sweetly before grabbing one of Jihoon’s freezing hands. The shorter man allows this with only minimal grumbling, and Junhui drags him back into the ceremony.

Minghao tuts his tongue in exasperation before following his victorious lover and his obstinate friend back inside.


-x-


“—that’s Hanuel-ssi. His wife is constantly complaining about how he always puts in the toilet paper roll the wrong way.”

“Why are you so unhelpful?” Seungcheol groans in exasperation.

“Hey, this isn’t actually in my job description, Cheolie. I’m actually doing you a favour here, and you better believe I’m going to be cashing this in later.”

Seungcheol just groans one more time. “Where do you even find this information?”

Jeonghan just shrugs. “Chatrooms.”

“What?”

“I said what I said.”

“Good evening, Hanuel-ssi,” Joshua greets the jolly-looking middle-aged man, successfully interrupting Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s little squabble and reminding them again of just where they are. “Congratulations on your nomination tonight; it’s well-deserved.”

“Thank you, Joshua-ssi; you’re too kind,” Hanuel says with a happy smile.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for asking, but I seem to have forgotten exactly which segment you got nominated for,” Joshua says in an abashed tone of voice.

Hanuel just waves away his concerns with a good-natured shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it, Joshua-ssi. My segment wasn’t anything life-changing; I just did a small skit on the proper way of putting in a toilet paper roll.”

Joshua manages to keep a straight face, even as Seungcheol releases something close to a choked-off screech, and Jeonghan whispers smugly: “I told you I know my stuff, Cheolie.”


-x-


At ten to seven, a woman’s voice sounds over the speaker, saying: “The ceremony is about to begin. Everyone, please find your table and sit down. Again, the ceremony is about to begin. Please find your table and sit down.”

The moment it’s possible, Seungcheol bids Daeshim-ssi and his otherworldly love for beetle hunting a hasty goodbye before making a mad dash towards table thirteen – where he’ll be free of small talk and odd hobbies – with Joshua and Jeonghan right behind him.

The sight that greets Seungcheol when he reaches their designated table, however, forces him to give up his dreams of peace and quiet: Jihoon is wrapped up in what looks like Minghao’s suit jacket, sneezing and sniffling and scowling nonstop; Seungkwan is flushed and dazed-looking, giggling and whispering to an equally giddy-looking Hansol while Chan is apparently trying to force the two of them to drink some water; Junhui is on the phone with someone – a look of concern painted on his face – while Mingyu sits beside him, biting his lower lip and whispering furtively to Minghao who is shooting the taller of the two an imperceptible look; and Soonyoung is frantically writing on a few spare napkins with a glittery pink gel pen while Seokmin offers suggestions over his shoulder.

Seungcheol can feel a headache coming on. “Jihoonie!” He calls out, deciding to tackle this one issue at a time. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Jihoon-hyung was standing outside in the cold for forty-five minutes without a jacket,” Minghao cuts in before Jihoon can even try to defend himself. “We ordered him a cup of chamomile tea and Junhui gave him some Tylenol; he’s still definitely coming down with something though.”

“Hey,” Jihoon manages to say in a nasally voice, staring pointedly at Hansol and Seungkwan. “At least I’m not drunk.”

Seungcheol can hear Jeonghan cluck his tongue behind him, and he watches as the younger man walks towards where Seungkwan and Hansol are giddily speaking, gently taking the glass of water out of Chan’s hands, before forcibly pouring the liquid down Hansol’s throat. Seungkwan’s laughter at the sight quickly trails off when Jeonghan turns his attentions towards him, and Seungcheol quickly looks away.

“Okay,” he says. “Where’s Wonwoo, then?”

“He’s in the bathroom, hyung,” Mingyu offers meekly just as Junhui lets out an uncharacteristic groan of irritation before plopping his phone down where Wonwoo would be seated. “He ate a bunch of shellfish and has a stomachache now.”

“Is he okay?” Seungcheol manages to ask through the wave of nausea that just hit him.

“Yeah. I’m okay,” Wonwoo’s staticky voice sounds from Junhui’s phone. Seungcheol pauses for a moment, before gesturing blandly at the cell.

“Are you…on speaker right now, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo’s quiet reply of “yes” is muffled by Junhui’s impassioned proclamation of: “I told him that he should go back home, but he says that he wants to stay for Soonyoung. You should go back home and rest, Wonwoo. Please. I’ll come with you!”

“Wonwoo, you should listen to Junnie,” Seungcheol says, walking around the table to be closer to Junhui’s phone.

“I’m okay, Seungcheol-hyung,” Wonwoo’s tinny voice sounds, and Junhui lets out a noise of total displeasure.

“Soonyoung-hyung’s category is the tenth one of the evening, hyung,” Minghao says, leaning over Junhui and resting a comforting hand on the older man’s thigh, rubbing gentle circles in an attempt to soothe him. “We’re going to be here for a while.”  

“Are you sure you’re okay, Wonwoo?” Joshua asks.

“Yeah, just—just keep me on the speaker so I can hear what’s going on.”

“Wonwoo…” Junhui whispers.

“I’ll be fine, Jun, yeah? I promise if it gets too bad I’ll leave, alright?”

“Alright,” Junhui concedes slowly. At that moment, Soonyoung pushes back from the table and rushes towards the raised stage area. The whole table watches as the black-haired nominee rushes around people still mingling around with efficiency before clambering onto the stage. A few security officers rush towards him in an attempt to drag him off the stage, but he slips through their grasps and disappears into the right wing, leaving behind a rustling, red curtain, and a few redder-faced security guards.

“What just…happened?” Jihoon asks.

“He’s going to get himself arrested again,” Joshua mutters. “He’s going to get himself arrested for…trespassing on property or something.”

Before they can all break down into full-panic mode, Soonyoung – escorted by two security officers – exits the stage and makes his way back towards their table.

“Soonyoung-hyung!” Seokmin breathes out, reaching out and gathering his hyung into his arms the moment he’s within arms-reach. “What just happened?”

“Eh, nothing big,” Soonyoung responds, leaning into towards Seokmin’s touch. “Hey, Wonwoo!” He calls out in the direction of Junhui’s cellphone. “You better thank me for this later!”

“—what?” Wonwoo asks. Before Soonyoung can clarify further though, the lights dim and a voice sounds over the speaker.

“We’re on air in three, two, one—Welcome to the Thirty-Second Annual Local Entertainment Media Award. Please welcome our first two presenters of the evening: Kim Beom-Seok and Lee Ae-Cha!”

A man and a woman glide onto the stage in all their sparkly glory. Smiling benignly at the camera, the two of them wait for the applause to settle down before beginning.

“Good evening everyone,” Beom-Seok says. “We hope you’re enjoying your night so far. We’re actually going to do something new for tonight and go a bit out of order.”

“Thanks to a special request for the evening, we’ve decided to present the award for Best Fluff Piece first tonight.” A few titters of confusion fill the room, and Ae-Cha just throws her head back to let out a tinkling laugh. “Yes, it’s a little confusing, but please bear with us; this is the most exciting we’re going to get tonight. So, without further ado, here are your nominees for the Best Fluff Piece of the Year.”

“Lim Eun Jung, A Love Story in Three Steps: How Two Penguins Found True Love. Choi Iseul, This is How You Can Find Your Good Place. Kwon Soonyoung, A Girl and Her Teddy: A Reconciliation Story. Zhou Suk-Yee, How This Clown Found Redemption,” Beom-Seok recites.

“And now, the winner for the Best Fluff Piece of 2017…” Trailing off, Ae-Cha rips open the creamy white envelope before smiling and announcing: “Kwon Soonyoung for A Girl and Her Teddy: A Reconciliation Story!”

Their entire table explodes in happy-tinted cheers. Before any of them can react further than shout in joy, Soonyoung has already pressed a sweet kiss to Seokmin’s lips and is bounding up the steps to the stage. Smiling, Soonyoung quickly shakes Beom-Seok and Ae-Cha’s hands before accepting his little statue and turning towards the mic.

“Hi everyone,” he says, shooting an earnest smile to the crowd. “I had this whole speech planned for if I win, and it’s great: it involves tears and puns and references to Hollywood celebrities. However, I’m kind of in a rush right now, so this is gonna be stupidly quick. I’d like to thank my mom and dad for everything, my friends for always having my back, Seungcheol-hyung for always supporting me and giving me the creative license to write whatever I want, Seokmin who I love with all my heart, and Wonwoo, for always sticking by me even when he clearly has diarrhea that’s killing him. Thank you everyone! Thank you so much!” Waving one last time, Soonyoung shoots another cheeky smile at the camera before being led backstage.

“Did that just…?” Jeonghan says with a look of shocked amusement painted on his face.

“That explains why he ran backstage before,” Minghao adds with a shrug.

“I have never felt more respect for Soonyoung than right now,” Jihoon pipes up in a steadily worsening voice.

“Hey guys!” Soonyoung calls out. Whipping around, they all watch as the black-haired winner bounds towards them, a bright smile on his face and a physical representation of his win clutched in his hands.

“Soonyoung-hyung!” Seokmin says, getting up and wrapping the shorter man in a tight hug. “Congratulations, hyung. I always knew you would win.”

“Aww, thank you, Seokmin. I couldn’t have done it without you,” Soonyoung replies before leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to Seokmin’s chin. Leaning back, he turns towards the rest of them and picks up Junhui’s phone. “Okay Wonwoo, you heard me win. Now get out of here.”

“…who says I was here for you? Maybe I just want to sit through the rest of the ceremony.”

“You can’t fool me, you peanut,” Soonyoung scoffs. “And no one wants you stinking up the fancy bathroom here either; just go home, okay?”

“…okay. Congratulations, Soonyoung.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can treat me to dinner when you feel better.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo’s throaty chuckle echoes through the line. “Jun? Do you think you can drive me back?”

“Yeah, of course! I’ll be there in a second.” Hanging up, Junhui gets up from his chair. “Jihoon-ah, why don’t you come with me? I can drop you off before I take Wonwoo back home.”

Jihoon shifts in his seat a bit. Meeting Seungcheol’s eyes and seeing the gentle and supportive look in the older man's eyes, Jihoon nods.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Okay, perfect. I’ll see you all at work on Monday. Congratulations, Soonyoung!” Junhui chirps, shooting the journalist a sweet smile before leaning down to drop a tender kiss on Minghao’s brow. “Call me when you get back home, HaoHao.”

“Drive safe,” Minghao murmurs back. Nodding, Junhui waves once more before herding Jihoon away towards the bathrooms with quick efficiency.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says after everything settles down and everyone’s gazes are trained back onto the stage. “I’m proud of you; you deserve it.”

Soonyoung’s smile is bright and just the smallest bit bashful.

“Thanks, hyung,” he says.

And they turn back towards the stage to watch someone else receive a well-deserved award, a bright smile of their face as they express their gratitude to all their loved ones, and to everyone else who has touched them positively.


-x-


The first thing Seungkwan notices is that it’s absurdly warm. He can feel the cascading beams of sunlight hitting his face, and his nose wrinkles at the intrusive feeling. Groaning a bit, he turns around on the bed, stopping when his arm hits smack against something hard.

Blinking his eyes open, Seungkwan squints blearily as everything murky slowly gains sharp lines and edges in his vision. What he sees, however, causes him to want to take back his sight.

Hansol is sleeping peacefully beside him. As beautiful and handsome and as ethereal as ever. It’s a sight sorely missed, but not necessarily wanted again.

Seungkwan gapes unattractively for a moment – unconsciously cataloguing how naked he feels and how naked Hansol looks, slumbering beside him – before uttering a simple: “Oh god.”

Chapter Text

Junhui throws himself out of the elevator on a slightly-overcast Thursday morning with flushed cheeks and frantic-looking eyes. “Wonwoo!” The Chinese man cries before hurtling towards said bespectacled editor’s closed office door. Not even bothering to knock, Junhui simply yanks the door open before bodily tossing himself inside. Everyone can just make out the yelp of surprise Wonwoo lets out before the door closes with a decided click behind Junhui.

Blinking and barely processing what just happened, the entire office turns back around to face Minghao, who is steadily making his way out of the elevator and following his frantic lover’s steps, but in a much more sedated fashion.

“Junhui’s father is coming to visit this weekend,” Minghao answers before anyone can ask. He makes his way to his desk, depositing his bags and folders and plopping down before booting up his laptop. He barely looks up when he continues with a neutral: “He just needs to ask Wonwoo-hyung for a favour, is all.”

The entire office lets out a small “Ahhh” of understanding before turning back towards their own activities. Mingyu, however, turns towards Minghao with worried eyes.

“Hey,” he says once he manages to awkwardly push his rolly chair up next to Minghao’s desk. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Minghao asks, eyes never straying from his laptop screen as he takes a pointed sip of from his cup of coffee.  

Mingyu shrugs. “I don’t know. You just seem…a little tense, I guess.”

Minghao sighs, placing down his coffee cup and turning towards the taller man. Mingyu can see the slight strain pinching at the corners of Minghao’s flat lips, and the vague apprehension swimming in his eyes; he’s also plucking at his own fingers in a familiar display of unease, and Mingyu can only bump their elbows together in a show of camaraderie.

“Hey, come on. What is it?”

Minghao’s eyes flicker furtively around as if to make sure that no one is listening in on their conversation, before he leans in closer to the older man as if to divulge some important secret.

“I’m just…nervous about shūshu coming over.”

Mingyu can’t help but blink incredulously at the younger man. “What? Why? You’ve met Huang-ssi before; he loves you!”

Minghao shakes his head and drops his gaze towards his fidgeting fingers. Shrugging nonchalantly, he choppily says, “It’s nothing. I’m just overthinking things. Everything’s fine; don’t worry about it, Mingyu.”

“Minghao…” Before Mingyu can try pressing for more concrete answers though, the elevator doors open up, releasing Seungcheol from its metal confines.

“Seungcheol-hyung!” Chan calls out immediately from the front desk. “Seungkwan-hyung just called in sick.”

“Again?” Seungcheol asks, coming to a stop in front of their intern. “Did you ask him what’s going on? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, hyung,” Chan says, a small furrow settling in between his brows. “He just said he isn’t feeling too good.”

Seungcheol bites down on his bottom lip in clear contemplation, before he twists around to face Minghao and Mingyu. “How was Seungkwan feeling when you guys dropped him off on Friday?”

“He seemed okay?” Mingyu offers, meeting Minghao’s eyes briefly before turning back towards their boss. “We made him drink some more water and left some ibuprofen for him before putting him to bed.”

“He fell asleep immediately,” Minghao adds.

“Okay,” Seungcheol sighs. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he turns back around to face Chan. “Tell Seungkwan to take it easy, get better, and come back when he’s feeling well enough to.”

“Okay, hyung,” Chan agrees.

“Thanks, Chan,” Seungcheol shoots their intern a genuinely grateful smile before making his way towards his office.

Mingyu watches him go before turning back towards Minghao, who immediately stands up and brushes him off with a simple: “Don’t worry about it, Mingyu” before making his way towards the breakroom.

“Easier said than done,” Mingyu mutters before rolling back towards his own desk with a bit of residual worry clinging to his lungs, and a vaguely petulant pout painted on his face.




“My dad is coming over this weekend for a visit,” Junhui announces the moment the door clicks shut behind him. Throwing himself onto one of the plush seats across from Wonwoo, he peers up at the editor’s face with big, doe eyes.

“Okay?” Wonwoo offers, clutching at his chest in an attempt to slow down his stampeding heartbeat thanks to Junhui’s less-than-calm entrance and appearance in his office. “Thank you for the information and for the jump-scare?”

Junhui flushes. “Sorry,” he offers sincerely, reaching out and clutching at one of Wonwoo’s hand with both of his. Wonwoo allows this, letting his own fingers curl around Junhui’s slender ones, and he offers the older man a small, crooked grin to show that everything’s okay.

Junhui offers him a sweet smile in response, before he fidgets a bit uncertainly. “He…he wants to see you as well, so—”

“I’d be more than happy to see Huang-ssi,” Wonwoo says, letting his thumb stroke soothingly over the back of Junhui’s hand. “This weekend, yeah?”

“Yes,” Junhui nods. There’s still a small pinch between his eyebrows though, and Wonwoo frowns, reaching out with his free hand to gently poke at the wrinkled flesh.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says over Junhui’s quiet yelp of surprise. “What’s with the furrowed brows, Jun-ah? If you keep doing that, you’re going to get a bunch of wrinkles and Minghao will leave you.”

“HaoHao would never leave me, not even if I ended up looking like a wrinkly prune,” Junhui declares confidently. Leaning over, he nips at Wonwoo’s prodding fingers. Wonwoo leans back, protecting himself from the retaliation, but not before playfully tweaking Junhui’s nose, successfully drawing a happy giggle from the other man.

“Yeah, you’re right; he’d be stupid to ever leave you,” Wonwoo concedes. Keeping the soft smile on his face, he asks: “So what’s wrong, Jun?”

Junhui takes in a deep breath, before saying in a mad rush: “My dad thinks you and Mingyu are still married.”

Wonwoo blinks. “I’m sorry. What?”

“My…my dad still thinks you’re married to Mingyu,” Junhui slowly says, cheeks flushed and eyes sheepish.

“What? Why? How?” Wonwoo splutters before stopping and squinting at Junhui. “Is that why he still addresses his Christmas letters to me and Mingyu?”

“Yes?” Junhui answers meekly, squirming in his seat.

Wonwoo gapes at Junhui for a few more seconds before seemingly coming back to life. “The matching couples sweaters they sent over. You told me your mom knitted them for me and you!”

“And we looked amazing in them, Wonwoo-ah! You have to admit that I looked fantastic in Mingyu’s mint sweater!” Junhui exclaims. When Wonwoo just continues squinting in disbelief at him, he sinks back down into his chair. “I’m sorry, Wonwoo! I just…after the…the divorce, telling my parents was the last thing on my mind. When I finally remembered that they didn’t know, a year had already passed and it felt too silly to just tell them then. I’m also just so bad at these things; please don’t be angry at me, Wonwoo. I’m really sorry.”

Wonwoo sighs, letting his shock and slightly aggravated-frustration seep out of him slowly. Meeting Junhui’s genuinely abashed and apologetic eyes, Wonwoo reaches out and gently bops the older man on the nose. “You know I can never be angry at you, Jun-ah,” he murmurs, lips lifting up into an easy smile the moment Junhui smiles hesitantly in kind. “I was just surprised; I’m not angry. It’s not your fault, okay Jun?”

“Okay,” Junhui nods, the furrow between his brows lessening in the face of Wonwoo’s gentle words and kind eyes. “I’m still sorry though.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo agrees. “It’s not necessary though. So…what do you want to do about your father? You can always just…tell him before this weekend, right?”

“It’s going to be so awkward though,” Junhui says. “And he’s going to ask you about it all night if I tell him.”

“So I should just pretend to still be married to Mingyu?” Wonwoo ends up whispering the last part, glancing around the room nervously as if anyone can simply pop inside and listen in on their conversation.

Junhui bites down on his lower lip, brown eyes flashing as he goes through the options in his head. After a long moment, he slowly says: “It’s only for a night, right? And I can tell him after he leaves; this way he won’t ask you about it, and he’ll have more time to process it before he sees you again.”

Wonwoo frowns. “Wouldn’t he wonder why Mingyu isn’t invited then?”

“I’ll just tell him that Mingyu-ah is busy that night!”

“I don’t know…I still feel like we should just tell him that—that I’m no longer married, Jun.”

“But it’s going to be so awful, Wonwoo,” Junhui says, and Wonwoo can't tell if he wants to laugh or cry at his friend’s sweet and caring but ultimately innocent and almost childish words. Instead, he tamps down on that impulse, and just focuses on the anchor that Junhui’s warm hand and simple presence provides.

“Okay, Jun.” Wonwoo agrees. “Only for a night.”

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” Junhui says, getting up and walking around the desk before leaning down and pulling the other into a warm hug. Wrapping his arms around Wonwoo’s shoulders, Junhui promises, “I’ll do my best to make sure he doesn’t ask about Mingyu too much.”

“It’s okay; I’m a fantastic actor.” Leaning back a bit so that he can meet Junhui’s eyes, Wonwoo offers the other man a slightly cheeky smile. “Besides, he’ll probably get distracted enough by Minghao that he’ll forget all about me and my not-ex-husband.”

“Still,” Junhui says, brushing an affectionate hand through Wonwoo’s dark hair. “I’ll make omurice and Kung Pao chicken when you come over, okay?”

“See?” Wonwoo says, smiling reassuringly at Junhui and ignoring the slightly nerve-wracking pinpricks blossoming in his belly. “Already worth it.”


-x-


It’s nearing dusk on Saturday when a knock sounds on Seungkwan’s door. The journalist groans, turning over onto his side on the couch and settling on pretending to not be at home. However, the knocks simply continue, and after a few more moments, Seokmin’s voice calls out: “Seungkwannie! Come on, open up. I come bearing gifts!”

Sighing, Seungkwan bids his quiet night-in of further self-pity and resentment goodbye, and rolls off his couch like a limp doll before making his way towards the door. Yanking it open, Seungkwan is met with Seokmin’s beaming face as well as bags upon bags of groceries and takeout.

“Seokmin-hyung,” Seungkwan greets, not even able to muster up a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been missing from work for the whole week; I got worried,” Seokmin shrugged. Lifting up one of his arms laden with shopping bags, he adds: “I brought over a bunch of medicine, just in case you were actually sick. I also have a bunch of movies in here, chocolate, cookies, ingredients to make ice-cream pie.” Turning pleading eyes towards Seungkwan, Seokmin needles with a playful, “Come on, Seungkwannie. Let me in?”

Seungkwan sighs softly one more time, the warmth of Seokmin’s friendship and concern overriding all the negativity brewing inside of him momentarily, and he moves aside to let his hyung in.

Seokmin positively beams as he meanders into the apartment. Placing down the bags onto the coffee table in front of the couch, Seokmin looks up with a boyish grin. “Nice robe, by the way. You’re going to look so fancy when we’re eating the lobster capellini and ribeye steak I brought.”  

Seungkwan blinks. “You got me lobster capellini and ribeye steak?”

“I got the two of us lobster capellini and ribeye steak,” Seokmin corrects, taking out said dishes from the paper bags. “Besides, if you feel bad enough to take off an entire week of work, then you probably deserve something fancier for dinner. Soonyoung-hyung wanted to come and make sure that you’re okay too, but he has his contemporary dance classes to teach tonight, so he couldn’t make it.”

Watching Seokmin unbox the dishes and take out the cutlery, Seungkwan sniffs once and makes his way towards his bedroom. “I’ll get you your own robe,” he says over his shoulder.

“My own robe?” Seokmin practically screeches in excitement behind him.

For the first time in a week, Seungkwan allows himself to laugh.


-x-


“So. How would you feel if your boyfriend ended up having to go to court?”

Joshua immediately stops plucking his guitar in a personal rendition of Let Her Go, and instead, stares at Jeonghan in exasperated disbelief.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Is my boyfriend going to end up having to go to court?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly, still putting together his Disney-themed jigsaw puzzle as if there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“And what is my boyfriend going to court for exactly?” Joshua continues. “Is it for jury duty?”

“Nope, he’s getting sued.”

“What?” Joshua yelps. Jeonghan immediately pulls out an envelope from behind his back as if he planned this entire thing and hands it to the younger man. Joshua takes it, pulling out the letter within and begins reading it. “This is Hwa Jakhyung & Associates…the Rhee Coal Company is suing you in a defamation lawsuit for libel?”

Jeonghan manages to finish another corner of his puzzle. “I think they would actually have to sue Pledis Daily, but yes. They’re technically gunning for me.”

“Oh my goodness,” Joshua says, eyes quickly scanning through the letter again. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to have to tell Cheolie on Monday and we’ll have to see where we go from there.” Reaching out, Jeonghan gently grasps one of Joshua’s hands. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, Joshua. The Rhee Coal Company doesn’t even have a strong case against me; I’m protected by the Charter after all.”

However, despite Jeonghan’s soothing words and even more soothing voice, Joshua pops up from his rocking chair, places his guitar down, marches towards the foyer of their condo, and begins wrestling himself into his big coat.

“Hey, hey, Joshua, what are you doing?” Jeonghan asks.

“I’m going to go to Seungcheol’s and ask him about this,” Joshua says, waving the white envelope clutched in his hand extra emphasis. “We need to start planning what to do.”

“Cheolie’s not going to be able to do anything,” Jeonghan says, getting up from his own rocking chair and making his way towards Joshua. “Come on, let’s just stay in tonight and worry about this on Monday, okay?”

“Where’s my car keys?” Joshua asks, spinning around in a circle and evidently not having heard a single word Jeonghan just said. “Have you seen my car keys, Jeonghan?”

“No, I haven’t,” Jeonghan lies through his teeth. “Come on, let’s just stay in.”

Joshua pats himself down a few times as if the key will magically materialize in his coat after a few times of searching through the same places. Finally, he lets his hands drop and yanks open the door. “I guess I’ll just walk then,” he announces, before leaving.

“Joshua—wait!” Jeonghan calls after him. “You’re going to get sick. Joshua!” Groaning when the other man simply continues down the hall, Jeonghan grabs his own coat and whisks the car keys off their coffee table (where Jeonghan’s puzzle box was covering it) before rushing out after the younger man.

“What can Cheolie do anyway, Joshua? He’s useless—useless! Joshua!”


-x-


“HaoHao?” Junhui’s voice sounds from behind him. Before long, the older man’s arms are wrapping around his waist as he rests his chin on Minghao’s shoulder. Minghao simply continues looking out into the street from the huge balcony window decorating Junhui’s living room. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Nothing,” Minghao answers before turning around in Junhui’s arms to face the older man. Letting his hands rest on either side of Junhui’s face, Minghao rubs gentle circles into Junhui’s cheeks, thumb brushing reverently against the bottom of the older man’s eyes and palms carefully cradling Junhui’s sharp jaw. “Do you need any more help?”

“No, everything’s ready,” Junhui murmurs. Leaning forward, he gently captures Minghao’s lips in a soft kiss. His hands travel up from Minghao’s waist, up to his chest – fingers dancing lightly over the firm muscle there – before settling on Minghao’s shoulders. Minghao just presses in closer, impossibly closer, to the other, feeling too much of everything but never wanting to stop. Junhui breaks apart from the kiss with a familiar and well-loved giggle when Minghao nips playfully on his bottom lip, and the smile he offers the younger man is radiance defined.

“Thank you for being here tonight,” Junhui says, brushing his fingers against the nape of Minghao’s neck and at the wispy hairs there.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Minghao promises. Junhui leans in to press another kiss to his lips before breaking away. Looking out the window, Junhui’s eyes widen, and a bright smile overtakes his face again.

“They’re here!” Junhui chirps. Pressing one last kiss to the corner of Minghao’s lips, Junhui breaks away from his embrace and rushes out the door.

From the balcony window, Minghao can see Junhui hurtling out the front doors of the apartment after a few moments; his lover runs towards where Wonwoo and Huang are making their way towards the building. Minghao can see the moment that Huang notices his son – his face glows in happiness at the sight of Junhui, noticeable even from this distance – and the two of them rush towards each other and meet with a heartfelt embrace. The three of them stand there for a while, Junhui talking rapidly and excitedly, and Minghao can practically hear the words that are no doubt flowing from his lips.

“I’ve missed you so much BàBà; it’s so good to see you again. I love you. How have you been? How’s Māmā? How’s Yang Yang? Are you eating well? Are you sleeping enough? Are you well-rested? Thank you so much for picking my dad up, Wonwoo. You’re the best. Come on, come on. Let’s go up. Minghao’s waiting and dinner’s ready. Come on!”

Minghao watches the three of them disappear into the building, and after a few moments, the front door opens up again and Junhui’s excited voice envelops the entire apartment in a feeling of warmth.

“HaoHao!” Junhui calls, and Minghao pulls himself away from the window and makes his way towards the foyer.

“Hello,” Minghao says a bit stiffly as Junhui is pulling out two spare slippers from his front closet for his guests.

“BàBà, you remember Xu Minghao,” Junhui says, placing the slippers down and making his way towards Minghao. Smiling comfortingly, Junhui slips his hand into Minghao’s.

“Ah yes. Xu Minghao, how can I forget?” Huang says with a hearty smile. “Though you were a lot younger when I last saw you.”

“It’s been a few years now, shūshu,” Minghao offers.

“Yes, yes. You’ve grown a lot,” Huang says, and Minghao just continues smiling stiffly.

“Give me your coat, BàBà. Come on, let’s go sit down inside. Give me yours too, Wonwoo-ah,” Junhui says, hand slipping out from Minghao’s slightly clammy grasp to take the proffered jackets and hang them up nicely in the closet. Efficiently herding the two men into the dining room, Minghao listens as Junhui and Huang continue to exchange loving and teasing words with Wonwoo chiming in every now and then.

He feels lodged to the spot for some reason, and simply continues standing there – in the middle of the dimly lit foyer – for a while.


-x-


“I messed up,” Hansol says. Chan looks up from their homemade pizza and waves a dismissive hand.

“It’s not that bad; the crust is slightly burnt in some areas and a bit too doughy in others, but it’s pretty good for a first attempt, hyung!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hansol says with a shake of his head before he takes another bite of his slice of pizza. His face contorts a bit, nose scrunching up, at the taste. “But it definitely is too burnt in some areas.”

“Honestly, I think the burnt parts are okay, but the doughy ones are too much,” Chan admits before taking a sip of his cola. Putting down his cup, he tilts his head questioningly at the photographer and asks, “But what did you mean, Hansol-hyung?”

“I just…I keep messing up in my interpersonal relationships,” Hansol admits with a frown tugging at his lips. “I’m just awful at them, and I can never get them right.”

“That’s not true, hyung,” Chan argues. “We get along fine. In fact, I’d even say that we get along great.”

“That’s not—I don’t know,” Hansol groans, running twitching fingers through his bleached blonde streaks. A look of uncharacteristic frustration is painted on his face, and Chan frowns, unsettled and unknowing of what to do with such an unfamiliar sight. While his hyung can get a bit melancholic sometimes, there never tends to be such a look of self-loathing painted on his face, and Chan absolutely hates it. In the end, he settles for reaching out with his feet and knocking them playfully against Hansol’s.

“Hyung, you’re not terrible at relationships. Just because you mess up once or twice doesn’t make you the absolute worst at them. Everyone messes up every now and then; as long as you keep trying, then there’s nothing wrong.”

When Hansol doesn’t respond, Chan ventures out a hesitant: “Is it Seungkwan-hyung?”

A self-deprecating smile twists as Hansol’s lips. “Am I that obvious?”

Chan shrugs. “There’s only ever been one person with you, hyung.”

“I can never do anything right with him,” Hansol confesses, poking at his pizza with a sullen finger. “I keep hurting him, and I don’t—I don’t know how to stop. He just…deserves so much better and I’m—I’m the worst.”

“Hyung,” Chan admonishes lightly. “You’re not the worst, okay? You’re trying, I know you are. Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”

“It’ll never be enough.”

“Hyung…”

“I’m sorry,” Hansol says, shaking his head as if to dispel the bad thoughts from his mind. A smile brightens up his face immediately, his brown eyes shining, but Chan knows better now. “Come on, give me your doughy pieces and I’ll give you the burnt ones.”

Despite the words bubbling at the back of his throat, Chan swallows them and allows Hansol his hiding places for now. “Are you asking me to desecrate this pizza further, hyung? Honestly. As if it hasn’t suffered enough already.”

Hansol, meanwhile, is already ripping up his pizza into chunks. He’s laughing, and Chan laughs with him. They swap pieces of their pizza, and Chan wishes that he can swap the sad pieces that make up Hansol with happier ones.


-x-


“Jeonghan’s getting sued,” Joshua says the moment Seungcheol opens his front door.

Seungcheol, for his part, barely bats an eye. “Well it was only a matter of time.”

“Rude and uncalled for,” Jeonghan says from over Joshua’s shoulder. “God, what do you have against me, Cheolie?”

“From this year alone, or are you asking for a mass accumulation of everything you’ve ever done to me?” Seungcheol asks dryly.

Jeonghan just sniffs. “You’re so dramatic, Cheolie. Jeez.”

Joshua lightly swats at Jeonghan’s arm and shoots him a look that says Behave. Turning back towards Seungcheol, he notices the older man is sticking his tongue out at Jeonghan. Shooting Seungcheol his own gently admonishing look of Behave, Joshua presses the letter into the older man’s hands.

Seungcheol sighs, taking the letter and moving to the side. “Come on in Joshua. Jeonghan, you can stand in the hall.”

“Just try me Cheolie. I have nine strippers on speed-dial.”

“Why do you have so many strippers on speed-dial?” Seungcheol demands, even as he leads Joshua and Jeonghan into the living room.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jeonghan says as he plops down onto the loveseat with Joshua. Shooting Seungcheol a dry look, the blonde journalist continues with a crisp: “It’s obviously so I can torture you with more strippers. Honestly. Think, Cheolie, just think a little every now and then.”

Seungcheol sighs and massages the bridge of his nose. “Do you want anything to drink, Joshua?”

“Yes. A glass of hot water, please,” Joshua answers, and Seungcheol nods before heading towards the kitchen.

“Grab a cola for me, Cheolie!”

“You don’t deserve a cola!” Seungcheol calls back.

When he returns though, he’s holding two steaming cups and has a can of cola cradled in the crook of his arm.

“Thank you, Seungcheol,” Joshua says gratefully, accepting the proffered mug with two hands.

“This is warm,” Jeonghan says when Seungcheol tosses the can to him.

“You didn’t specify,” Seungcheol says with a careless shrug and a playful smirk. He opens the envelope and begins reading the letter as Jeonghan splutters in disbelief on the couch.

“Which article are they suing you over?” Seungcheol asks as his eyes quickly go over the letter. His eyebrows are furrowed as he digests the information and Joshua can’t help but take another nervous sip of his water.

“Probably the one I wrote about them,” Jeonghan answers. Seungcheol shoots him an exasperated look.

“Thank you, smartass,” Seungcheol says with a roll of his eyes. “Do you still have all the research you did for the article?”

“I forwarded it all to Jihoon for safekeeping, so I guess you’re going to have to call him!” Jeonghan sing-songs the last part, and Seungcheol can’t help but snort in amusement.

“You’re surprisingly chipper for someone getting sued.”

“And you’re surprisingly calm for someone who breaks into a cold-sweat every time Soonyoung and Seokmin enter the room,” Jeonghan is quick to retort.

“That’s right,” Joshua pipes up, relaxing marginally at the relaxed posture of the older man. “Does that mean we don’t really have anything to worry about?”

“I don’t think Jeonghan ever wrote anything that would fall outside the boundaries of free speech,” Seungcheol says slowly (despite his words, he still can’t help but eye Jeonghan in suspicion). “Or, at the very least, I’m pretty sure Jihoonie would have never let him publish anything that could be considered libel.” Sighing, he gently massages the bridge of his nose once more. “Honestly, I think our biggest concern is the Rhee Coal Company’s ability to keep us in court for a long time, since they have a lot of money – which we are sorely lacking in.”

“I guess our office is just going to have to be submerged in darkness for the rest of our days,” Jeonghan says, dabbing at his eyes dramatically and sniffling for extra effect.

“Shush, you drama queen,” Seungcheol huffs. “At least let me call Jihoonie first before you bring out the fake waterworks.”

“Oh please, don’t let me stop you from calling Jihoonie,” Jeonghan says, perking up at the mere prospect. “Feel free to even just make some small-talk before you bring up the lawsuit.”

“Go away and drink your warm coke,” Seungcheol groans.

Jeonghan winks and takes a long drag of the lukewarm drink as if to prove a point. Joshua takes another pointed sip of his hot water and sighs in fond exasperation.


-x-


“Wonwoo-ah! Can you please come here for a second?” Junhui calls out from his kitchen. Shooting Huang a tiny, apologetic smile that's just slightly laced with relief, Wonwoo gets up and heads towards where Junhui is.

“What is it?” Wonwoo asks the moment he reaches the kitchen. Junhui is immediately rushing towards him and dragging him further into the room.

“Where’s HaoHao?” He whispers quietly, and Wonwoo blinks.

“I thought—well, actually I thought he was in here.”

“I thought so too,” Junhui says, biting on his lower lip in a familiar gesture of nervousness. “But he’s not here, and he’s not in the bathroom, or my bedroom. I tried calling him but he’s not picking up.”

“Okay, calm down,” Wonwoo says, reaching out and gently holding Junhui by the shoulders. “Maybe he just went out for some air.”

“But he’s not picking up his phone,” Junhui says softly before shaking his head. Breathing in deeply, Wonwoo watches as Junhui immediately begins loosening up, the previous tension on his shoulder dissipating quickly, and again he marvels at his friend’s ability to just block out the bad and focus on the moment. “Okay. I guess we’ll just have to make up some excuse for HaoHao. I’m sure he’ll appear sooner or later.”

“Are you sure, Jun?” Wonwoo asks as Junhui walks around him to make it back into the dining room where Huang is patiently waiting for them.

“Yes,” Junhui nods resolutely. His eyes are swimming in uncertainty though, and Wonwoo frowns gently at the sight. “HaoHao will come back. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo sighs softly. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Smiling softly, Junhui reaches out; Wonwoo meets him halfway and they end up holding hands, swinging them back and forth like school-children. “Besides, my dad’s out there. This isn’t the time for sad thoughts.” Giggling, he drags Wonwoo through the tiny kitchen towards the dining room. “Anyway, I’m more concerned about what HaoHao’s absence means for you. My dad’s not going to have a distraction from you and Mingyu now.”

“We’ll figure it out when we get there,” Wonwoo says.

Making their way out of the kitchen, they enter the dining room again. Huang looks up with a bright smile not unlike Junhui’s own, and he asks: “Where is Minghao?”

“Oh. HaoHao went out to buy some of that sake you like, BàBà,” Junhui says, smiling just a tad bit stiffly as the lie rolls heavy and awkwardly off his tongue. “He’ll be back in a little bit.”

“You didn’t have to send him out to get me my sake, Junhui,” Huang says as Junhui takes a seat beside his father and Wonwoo sits himself down across from his best friend. “I can make do without drinking at every meal, you know.”

“I know, BàBà,” Junhui says, smiling at Huang’s cheeky voice. “HaoHao insisted though. You know him; he always wants people to feel comfortable.”

“Mmm. You care a lot about Minghao, huh? He means a lot to you, Érzi?”

“Yeah, BàBà. He means a lot to me,” Junhui admits freely and easily. Wonwoo smiles at the easy admission and takes a sip of his green tea.

“That’s good; he’s a good kid. I cannot wait to get to know him better,” Huang says with a hearty laugh. Turning towards Wonwoo, he asks in his jovial tone of voice: “And how are you, Wonwoo? How is Mingyu? I was sad to hear that he could not make it tonight.”

Wonwoo’s eyes flash up to meet Junhui’s, and Junhui immediately says, “Mingyu is busy, BàBà. You know how he gets with work. I’m sure you can see him next time though.”

“Yes, yes,” Huang agrees before turning back around to face Wonwoo again. “But how are you two? Still as in love as when I last saw you?”

Wonwoo chokes on absolutely nothing and begins hacking up his lungs. Junhui immediately reaches out but Wonwoo simply waves him away, red-faced and nose running.

“I’m okay—I just…choked.” Coughing once more, he turns towards Huang and half-mumbles out in his deep timbre: “Yes. We’re…we’re still in love.”

“That’s good to hear,” Huang says. “You know, when I saw you two, I could see how in love you are. I always wished that my Junhui can find love like yours, you know? It is a good relationship that you have; hold on to it.”

“I—I will,” Wonwoo agrees quietly.  

“But it must be weird working with Mingyu, yes?” Huang suddenly asks. “You see him all day long; at home and at work. Is that difficult?”

“Oh! I work with HaoHao all day long too. It’s not difficult, BàBà. It’s actually really nice; I’m happy I get to spend so much time with HaoHao and I’m sure Wonwoo feels the same way!” Junhui immediately pipes up in a frantic attempt to save Wonwoo from any more of this conversation.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo can hear himself agreeing mutely. “It’s nice.” Pushing away from the table, he offers the two Chinese men a benign smile, attempting to convey with his dark eyes that he’s okay to Junhui. “Please excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.”

“Wonwoo-ah…” Junhui murmurs, wretched and concerned and brimming with regret. Wonwoo just smiles. It’s okay. I’m okay. “Okay…call if you need anything.”

“If I need anything in the bathroom?” Wonwoo asks, teasing.

“Yes,” is Junhui’s resolute response.

Wonwoo laughs quietly. “Silly,” he murmurs affectionately, before making his way to the hallway bathroom. Standing under the luminescent lighting, he stares at himself in the mirror for a long time, trying to marry the image of himself as Huang remembers him, and the image of himself as he now knows it. He can’t, so he just splashes a bit of water into his face and convinces himself that what he sees now is okay too.


-x-


“Are you in your apartment?” Is the first thing Mingyu hears the moment he picks up his cellphone.

“Minghao?” Mingyu asks, pausing his video game and perking up. “Yeah. Aren’t you supposed to be at Junnie-hyung’s right now?”

“Can you come down?” Minghao asks, not bothering to answer Mingyu’s question. “I feel like going for a drive.”

Mingyu pauses before getting up onto his feet. “Yeah, sure. I’m coming down now.” Minghao hangs up without answering, and Mingyu pulls on some socks, a pair of boots, and a cozy jacket – not bothering to change out of his worn-out sweats – before making his way outside.

Minghao’s pristine Mercedes is sitting idle on the roundabout curb, and Mingyu makes his way towards the car, opening the door, and slipping inside with practiced ease. Minghao waits for Mingyu to buckle himself in before pulling away, the gentle purr of the car’s engine and the stupidly catchy 500 Miles the only sounds in the car.

Mingyu watches Minghao from the corner of his eye for a long moment, before finally simply looking outside at the passing scenery. They haven’t driven aimlessly together for a while now. It’s definitely an activity belonging primarily back in their university days, when Minghao drove a slightly beat-up rental, and Mingyu still had the world beneath his feet and the stars hanging above his head. It was an activity they partook in when Minghao was feeling particularly frustrated, or upset, or sad, or scared; they drove for about twenty blocks once after Minghao had barely passed his Introduction to Chemistry class (he had still been convinced at that point that he’d become a scientist, or a doctor, or anything that would have made him miserable but his parents proud as hell); another time, they drove around the neighbourhood seven times after a particular sense of nostalgia and homesickness had hit Minghao; and another time, they drove down a long strip of road with nothing on either side of it for what felt like forever after Minghao had walked in on Heonwoo holding Junhui tenderly in his arms in their shared kitchen, while Junhui smiled up at him like he’s never loved anyone more.

It’s been a while since Minghao felt the need to drive around aimlessly, but Mingyu’s glad that he’s still the one to get the share the tiny space with the other.

“Minghao,” he says, after the song changes from 500 Miles, to Take On Me, to Dolly Parton's Jolene. “Come on, talk to me.”

Minghao’s fingers tap an unsteady rhythm on the wheel, and Mingyu can see the younger man’s eyes flicker from the busy street before them to him.

“I don’t know,” is what Minghao finally settles on.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Junnie-hyung’s place, entertaining and charming the heck out of Huang-ssi?”

“Yes. Yes,” Minghao says. “But I—I got nervous, and had to get out.”

“Why are you nervous, Minghao?” Mingyu asks. “You’ve met Huang-ssi before. He never seemed to have a problem with you.”

“Well it’s different now, right?” Minghao finally seems to burst at the seams, words flowing from his lips like an uncontrollable tide. “He first met me when I was just Junhui’s underclassmen who would never think about Junhui in any way that’s inappropriate. Now he’s going to meet me as some punk who thinks he’s good enough for Junhui, and I’m just—I’m…I’m not.” Groaning, Minghao mutters: “I’m going to have to hunt and bring back a bear or something to prove that I’m good enough.”

Mingyu lets Minghao’s impassioned words wash over him for a moment and fill up the crooks and nooks of the car, before finding his voice. “Okay. First thing’s first: You were never that subtle about how you feel for Junnie-hyung. I’m pretty sure Huang-ssi knew back then – even though you were just Junnie-hyung’s underclassmen – that you had ‘inappropriate’ thoughts about his son.” Minghao’s tanned face flushes absolutely red, but before he can refute the claim or smack Mingyu for his cheeky response, Mingyu continues. “Secondly, I don’t know what a bear has to do with this. Are you saying that Junnie-hyung is only worth one bear? Is one bear going to somehow prove that you deserve Junnie-hyung?”

Minghao actually does smack him this time. Rubbing at his slightly throbbing shoulder, Mingyu hisses a bit for show before listening to Minghao.

“You know what I mean, stupid,” Minghao says. “Look, I—I love him, Mingyu. When I…when I think about my future, all I can see is him. I try thinking about a future where he’s not in it and—it’s not a future I want. I don’t want to be where he isn’t, okay? And that—that scares me.” Groaning, Minghao releases a stream of laughter that’s just this side of terrified. “I mean, you’ve seen him, Mingyu. Junhui is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s just—he’s Junhui, and I know he would never think this, but I’m not sure I’m good enough for him, and I’m scared that his dad will look at me and realize this.”

“Minghao…you just gave me a whole bunch of bullshit but you’re right about one thing,” Mingyu starts. Minghao looks at him in surprise, the words blunter and sharper than usual from the taller man. “You don’t deserve Junnie-hyung right now, because you’re acting like a coward. And Junnie-hyung can do a lot better than a coward who won’t even fight for him.”

“Mingyu…”

Mingyu sighs. In a softer, gentler voice, he says: “I know where you’re coming from, Minghao. I really do. And the thing is, Huang-ssi might never really think you’re good enough for Junnie-hyung, but that has nothing to do with you, Minghao. It has to do with how much he loves Junnie-hyung. It’s just like you; you don’t think you deserve him only because you think so highly of him, and that’s not bad—it’s just…that’s not realistic.”

Minghao continues driving, and Mingyu watches the way the streetlights cast shadows over the smooth and sharp planes of the younger man’s face.

“Do you love Junnie-hyung?”

Minghao swallows. “Yes.”

“Okay. And does he love you?”

Minghao glances at Mingyu, eyes drifting away from the road long enough to make eye contact with the taller man. Whatever he sees there causes the tension to bleed from Minghao’s lean frame. When he says “Yes”, it’s self-assured, but also dripping in awe.

“Great, then that’s all that matters. Now turn this stupidly expensive car around and show Huang-ssi that you’re no coward, and that you’re willing to fight for Junnie-hyung.”

“Okay,” Minghao agrees with newfound steel in his eyes.

After a few more moments of driving, Mingyu says, “Didn’t I just say to turn this car around?”

“Yes, but I can’t just do a U-turn in the middle of a busy intersection, Mingyu!”

“I can’t believe you actually left Junnie-hyung’s apartment,” Mingyu continues. “And just so you can drive around with me and soppily tell me how much you love Junnie-hyung.”

“This conversation doesn’t leave the car, Mingyu. I swear—”

“Okay, I promise, I promise,” Mingyu says before turning around to stare out at the passing scenery. After a few seconds, he adds slyly: “But I’ll still know.”

Minghao grumbles something under his breath, but Mingyu can feel the appreciation emanating from the Chinese man, so he just leans back and soaks in the familiar and comfortable feeling of driving with Minghao as the moon lingers overhead.


-x-


“Have you ever wanted something so bad, but you know that you shouldn’t because it’ll end up hurting you?” Seungkwan asks, spoon digging into the coffee ice-cream pie sitting in between him and Seokmin and eyes trained onto the television screen.

Seokmin nods between his mouthful of the sweet treat. “Yeah. Like when you really want to eat raw cookie dough, but you know if you do, you’ll probably get a stomachache or even salmonella.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan nods, before pausing. “I mean, it’s not really what I was going for, but that’s on me for being too vague.”

“Mmm…do you mean like when you want to pet a killer shark but you know you shouldn’t because it’s a killer shark?”

“Also not what I was really going for because I’ve never wanted to pet a killer shark before, but you have the general idea, hyung.”

“Okay,” Seokmin nods, eyes trained onto the television screen, where Ben Stiller was trying to talk some sense to a bunch of cavemen with the help of Theodore Roosevelt. “So what about it?”

“I can’t really tell you the specifics of what’s going on, but—what do you think I should do? I really…want this person, hyung, but I’m afraid they’ll hurt me. But I also feel like I’m already in too deep to really get out, you know?”

“So like, you know you shouldn’t have that raw cookie dough, but you’ve already eaten about three spoonfuls of it, so you might as well just have the rest?”

“Yes, hyung. If we’re going to go with the cookie analogy, that’s probably accurate.” Pausing, Seungkwan purses his lips before amending his previous statement with a huffy: “Except at this point I probably already had like…twelve spoonfuls of cookie dough.”

“Twelve spoonfuls? And you don’t have a stomachache yet?” Seokmin asks, eyes ripping away from the screen to stare at Seungkwan. “Well then, it’s probably okay to have the rest of the cookie dough then.”

“Okay, but—my stomach is aching a little bit, you know? It’s just a small little ache right in my belly,” Seungkwan says, pressing a hand against his stomach for extra emphasis. “It’s not too painful yet, but I’m scared that it’ll become a full-blown case of diarrhea and vomiting.”

Seokmin hums, eating another spoonful of ice-cream pie as he slowly mulls over his answers. Finally, he says, “But you don’t know that your tiny aching stomach is because of the cookie dough, right? Maybe you drank a bad cup of juice that day, or maybe you’re just feeling gassy that day. You can’t blame it just on the cookie dough if you don’t know for sure.”

“But what if that cookie dough hurt me before?” Seungkwan demands, taking his own spoonful of ice-cream pie goodness. Talking around the sweet coolness in his mouth, Seungkwan continues. “What if I had some cookie dough before, and I ended up with the worst case of stomach-bugs ever? What if that cookie dough hurt me so bad that it turned me off of cookie dough forever? But this time, this cookie dough just—looks so good and tastes so sweet that I can’t help but want to have it. Won’t it hurt me? Won’t this cookie dough end up hurting me, Seokmin-hyung?”

“You don’t know that, Seungkwannie,” Seokmin offers, smiling softly at his dongsaeng. “Maybe this time the cookie dough won’t give you a stomachache. Or maybe this cookie dough will give you a stomachache, but it’ll be worth it because it was so tasty. Or maybe, you just need to learn how much cookie dough you can take before you end up hurting yourself, you know?”

Seokmin takes another bite of their shared dessert, and Seungkwan blinks at the revelation.

“Yeah…maybe you’re right, Seokmin-hyung.”

“I tend to be right every now and then,” Seokmin shrugs before suddenly screaming. Seungkwan twists around to face him just to see Seokmin grabbing at his borrowed robe, screeching at the ice-cream stain on the light blue fabric.

“My robe! My robe!”

“Oh my god, hyung. You scared me!” Seungkwan complains, grabbing a few spare napkins lying on the coffee table and pressing them to the stain. A bit of it wipes off, but for the most part, it remains firmly painted on the light blue, wooly fabric.

“This is what I get for playing god,” Seokmin says, pouting down at the robe.

“Is that what playing god means to you, hyung? Just putting on a robe?”

“You’re brave to play god every day, Seungkwan,” Seokmin says with a small sigh. Seungkwan snorts, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, before tossing the dirty napkins onto the table and turning back to their movie and dessert.


-x-


Jihoon looks like he’s ready to deck a man when Seungcheol lets him into the condo.

“Okay, I have the paper files and the USB.” Turning to shoot Seungcheol a vaguely dirty look, the blonde editor demands: “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until Monday?”

Plucking the proffered USB drive as well as the loose sheets of paper from Jihoon’s slender finger with a small “thank you”, Seungcheol answers in a blasé tone of voice: “Jeonghan is getting sued.”

Jihoon doesn’t even miss a beat, immediately saying, “Well it was only a matter of time.”

“That’s what I said,” Seungcheol says over Jeonghan’s little “Hey” and Joshua’s small snort of amusement. “Anyway, he’s being sued for libel by the Rhee Coal Company so I just need to see the research he did to make sure they won’t actually have a strong case.”

“The Rhee Coal Company?” Jihoon asks with a small frown. Following Seungcheol to the living room where the older man has his laptop opened, Jihoon plops down onto the arm of the couch, leaning over Seungcheol to take a good look at the screen. “How can they sue for libel? Everything Jeonghan-hyung wrote was factual.”

“That’s what I thought; it’s still better to actually make sure though.”

Pulling open the multiple documents, Seungcheol lets his eyes briefly skim over the material – promising himself that he’ll go over it in better depth the next day – before shrugging. “Everything seems to be in order, so I don’t think they’ll win the case. They’ll just probably keep us in court for a while and bleed us dry.”

“Are we going to have to wine and dine Seongsu-ssi again?” Jeonghan groans, as if being fawned and doted over by their CEO is the greatest trouble imaginable.

“Seems like it,” Seungcheol says, rubbing at his temples. “It’s not like we have enough to be able to afford proper legal representation otherwise.”

Jihoon’s frowning, teeth biting on the inside of his mouth before he pipes up with a helpful, “I have a friend who might be willing to take on the case for free.”

“Free legal representation?” Joshua asks, blinking in surprise at the mere prospect.

“I mean, he might not do it completely for free, but he’ll probably take the case for a cheaper cost than other offices,” Jihoon amends. Reaching over to pull Seungcheol’s laptop closer to himself, Jihoon’s eyes flicker quickly over the words on the screen. “He just started his own firm, so he wants to build up his portfolio right now. And even if this is an easy case, it’s still against a big corporation which will be good for recognition.”

“Alright,” Seungcheol agrees with an easy nod. “Do you think you can give him a call for us?”

“Yeah, I’ll give him a call him tomorrow or Monday. If he’s smarter than me, he won’t pick up his phone tonight.”

Seungcheol chuckles, eyes scrunched up at Jihoon’s words.

“You keep painting yourself as a little hermit, Jihoonie, but you probably go out more than the three of us,” Seungcheol says.

Jihoon scoffs at the thought, but Joshua is quick to chime in with a bright: “He probably has more friends than us too.”

“That was a very weird statement to sound happy over, Joshua-hyung,” Jihoon says with a wry smirk. Joshua just shrugs, and Seungcheol breaks out into another round a soft laughter.

Jeonghan sits there, watching Seungcheol smiling brightly at Jihoon for a moment, before standing up from the loveseat, and herding Joshua towards the door.

“Thank you for your help, Jihoon, Cheolie. But I think it’s time Joshua and I went back home.” Turning around to flash Jihoon a deceptively sweet smile, he adds: “Feel free to keep Cheolie company for a bit more. He gets ridiculously lonely sometimes, though he’ll never admit it.”

Joshua raises an eyebrow at Jeonghan’s proclamation, but Jeonghan just shoots the younger man a wink. Turning around, he offers a slightly confused-looking Jihoon and most definitely flushed-looking Seungcheol a chipper wave and bright: “We’ll see you two on Monday! Have a nice evening.”

“Thank you for your help tonight, Seungcheol, Jihoon. Please keep us updated on anything regarding the case,” Joshua says in a much more polite and less suggestive tone of voice. Shooting the two men a smile, Joshua leaves, dragging Jeonghan out by their intertwined hands.

The door closes behind them, and Joshua turns to face Jeonghan.

“You’re so not subtle, Jeonghan,” Joshua says with a little, dry smile.

Jeonghan just smirks. “Who said I was trying to be subtle?” When Joshua just lets out a spluttering laugh, Jeonghan begins walking them towards the elevators. “Now, let’s just go back home and relax for the rest of the evening. We can worry about this defamation lawsuit another day, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Joshua agrees, laughing softly as Jeonghan drags him into the elevator.


-x-


A knock sounds on the door, and Junhui excuses himself from the dining table and the rapidly cooling dishes with a small smile before going to answer it. Pulling it open, he’s greeted with Minghao’s sheepish face, and he can barely think before he’s tossing himself into Minghao’s arms.

“HaoHao!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around Minghao’s neck and sighing in relief when he feels Minghao’s large hands rest heavy and steady on his waist. Pulling back a little so he can look at Minghao’s face, Junhui lets his hands brush over the younger man’s familiar and beloved features. “Are you okay? Where did you go?”

“I’m sorry,” Minghao whispers, capturing one of Junhui’s hands with his own, before pressing a tender kiss to the palm of it. “I just needed some air; I needed to get my head on straight. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, HaoHao,” Junhui murmurs in return. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, eyes soft and familiar, and safe and constant. When he says: “Junhui. I love you, Junhui,” the older man just basks for a moment in this seemingly innate and unchangeable truth.

“I love you too, Minghao,” Junhui promises, offering the younger man a small, but concerned, smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Minghao says. “I’ll tell you about it tonight, okay? But don’t worry for now.”

“Okay,” Junhui agrees. Eyes fluttering, he leans forward to capture Minghao’s lips in a soft kiss before drawing back. “I’m glad you’re back, HaoHao.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Minghao says. “I’m staying right here.”

“Okay,” Junhui says. Eyes flickering to the side of Minghao, he suddenly starts at seeing Mingyu standing right outside the hall. “Mingyu-ah! Oh my god; how long have you been standing there?”

Mingyu clears his throat and makes his way closer towards the front door. “The—the whole time, Junnie-hyung. But don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. Here.” He thrusts a paper box towards Junhui, who accepts the offering readily. “Minghao and I stopped by the bakery to pick up a cake.”

“Oh! Thank you, Mingyu—”

“Minghao! And Mingyu, what a pleasant surprise!” Huang’s voice suddenly sounds from behind Junhui, successfully wiping the bright smile off of his face. Junhui’s father stops beside rapidly paling son, and beams at the two men dawdling beyond the doorway. “Come on in, come on in! Where did you go, Minghao? We were all waiting for you.”

“HaoHao couldn’t find any of the sake you wanted, so he stopped by the bakery. I guess he bumped into Mingyu, but I’m sure Mingyu-ah is busy and has to go right now, right?” Junhui says, efficiently covering for Minghao and shooting Mingyu a pointed look at the same time. Mingyu starts at the look, and – despite not understanding what’s going on – immediately begins agreeing with Junhui’s words.

“Um, yeah! I have a bunch of work waiting for me back home, so I really should be—”

“Nonsense!” Huang says with a hearty laugh. “Your husband’s waiting inside; I am sure you can spare us at least an hour.”

“My husband—?” Mingyu stammers, wide-eyed and with confusion painted on every contour of his face.

As if summoned, Wonwoo suddenly rounds the corner, coming to a grinding halt at the sight of Mingyu.

“Wonwoo-hyung!” Mingyu manages to squeak out amidst his running thoughts.

“Ah, Wonwoo,” Huang says, turning around and gesturing towards Mingyu with a jerk of his thumb. “I just found your husband. Please convince him to stay for at least dinner.”

“Huang-ssi, we’re not married anymore,” Mingyu confusedly says before Junhui can manage to muffle his voice. Everyone seems to freeze for a long moment before Huang turns slowly towards Mingyu.

“I am sorry, but my hearing seems to be going bad. What did you just say?”

“I’m—we’re not—?”

“BàBà, let’s just come back inside and start dinner, okay?” Junhui says, tugging insistently at the corner of Huang’s plaid shirt.  Huang, however, pays Junhui not attention, and instead turns to look at Wonwoo.

“What does Mingyu mean, you are not married anymore, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo blinks rapidly, heart caught in his throat, blood hot and heavy rushing through his veins, and the air glacial and frozen inside his rapidly shrinking lungs. His eyes are tethered precariously to Mingyu’s by a gossamer thread, and he’s once again having to admit his own feelings of disappointment, and share in the realities of their joint failures with the person who meant the most, who means the most, who understands most intimately the pain and hurt of those seven tiny, little letters strung together.

“BàBà, please—”

“Jun,” Wonwoo interrupts softly, eyes straying away from Mingyu’s kind, brown orbs to focus on a frantic-looking Junhui and his father. “It’s okay, Jun-ah. Huang-ssi, the truth is Mingyu and I are divorced; we have been for almost two years now. I’m sorry for lying to you.”

To Wonwoo’s relief, Huang looks neither angry nor offended by the deception; rather, he just looks confused. “Why did you not just tell me you were no longer married?”

“BàBà, it was my fault,” Junhui confesses, looking at his father with regretful eyes. “I forgot that you didn’t know about their…separation until you told me you were coming to visit. It just felt too strange to tell you now, and I’m just so awful with—with things like this. It’s my fault.”

“Jun, no,” Wonwoo says, shooting his friend a comforting smile when Junhui glances towards him before confessing honestly: “I just—I guess I still have trouble admitting that I’m—no longer married sometimes. It’s was simpler to pretend to still be married than to admit out loud that I’m not anymore.”  

“Wonwoo-hyung…” Mingyu whispers from his frozen position in the foyer. Wonwoo can’t bring himself to look at the taller man just yet.

“But you two are okay now?” Huang asks, gaze flicker back-and-forth between the two.

Wonwoo looks at Mingyu now and says as truthfully as he possibly can: “Yes. Yes, I hope so.”

Mingyu blinks once, twice, then a familiar, crooked smile blossoms on his face. His voice is equally honest when he responds: “Yeah, we’re okay, Wonwoo-hyung.”

Wonwoo continues breathing.

“Okay,” Huang says. “Then I do not see why two friends cannot share a meal together. Please join us for dinner, Mingyu. Junhui and Minghao made more than enough, it seems. Unless I am being too presumptuous?”

“Wonwoo?” Junhui softly asks the unspoken question, coming around to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. The warmth of Junhui’s hand is as familiar as the warmth colouring Mingyu’s face now, and Wonwoo nods in quiet agreement, saying “please.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, before turning around to face Junhui. “Is it okay if I stay for dinner, Junnie-hyung?”

Junhui’s eyes rove over Wonwoo’s face for a few more seconds before he turns around and shoots Mingyu a smile. “Yes! Of course you can stay, Mingyu; the more the merrier after all!”

“Okay.” Leaning down, Mingyu toes off his shoes while Junhui rushes to fetch him a pair of slippers. Minghao pats him on the back quickly and shoots Wonwoo a small, supportive grin.

“I’m slightly nervous now that Mingyu’s here; he’s going to judge my cooking so much,” Junhui jokingly says, leading them all into the dining room.

“Please, hyung. Your humble act can’t fool me. I know you’re hiding some amazing cooking chops beneath those skinny arms of yours,” Mingyu teases back in kind while Minghao affectionately rolls his eyes at his friend and his lover’s silly antics.

Wonwoo watches them, trying to marry the nostalgic with the new and unfamiliar; it’s slow work, but he’s getting there.




“Hey,” Mingyu says. Wonwoo turns around, seeing Mingyu climb out onto the balcony before pushing shut the glass door behind him. He’s wearing his winter coat and holding Wonwoo’s as well in his arms. “Here, hyung,” he says, pressing Wonwoo’s parka into his arms. “You’ll catch a cold, standing out here without wearing a jacket.”

“Thanks, Mingyu,” Wonwoo murmurs, wrapping the coat around himself and reveling in the warmth it provides, at the barrier it creates against the elements.

They stand there together for a moment, elbows nearly touching and tanned cheeks and noses turning pink from the cold.

“I thought Minghao was about to flee the country,” Mingyu says, slicing through the silence with laughter-laced words. “He was so frantic when he showed up at my door.”

“In-law nerves?” Wonwoo asks.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mingyu answers.

“Well, I’m glad you managed to talk some sense into him,” Wonwoo says. “I’d hate to have to hunt him down for having hurt Jun or something.”

“Honestly, I’d hate that too. Having to choose between Minghao or Junnie-hyung? No thanks,” Mingyu scoffs lightly. “I’d rather be caught between Seungcheol-hyung and Jeonghan-hyung’s crossfire.”

“Okay, calm down,” Wonwoo chuckles lightly at the very idea. Mingyu’s eyes flicker to him, and he begins chuckling softly alongside the bespectacled editor for a few comfortable moments before drifting off into a peaceful quiet once more.

“Hyung?” When Wonwoo gives a hum of acknowledgement, Mingyu continues. “Are we really okay, hyung?”

Wonwoo looks out into the crisp night sky. He thinks of their last few months together; he thinks of the quiet discontentment that had tethered them together but also separated them, the thickness that had lingered over their home because of all the words unspoken, the disappointment and heartbreak that followed at the realization that it can’t continue anymore. Interspersed between the images of their eventual parting are snapshots of their shared moments before, the ones that left Wonwoo feeling light and content despite the unhappy ending. His eyes drift towards Mingyu, and then all there’s left to do is simply—be with Mingyu. Just for a moment.

“I think so,” Wonwoo says. “I want us to be.”

“Good,” Mingyu breathes out. “I just want us to be okay too.”

Wonwoo smiles and glances quickly behind himself. Through the glass partition separating the balcony from the warm glow of the living room, he can see Junhui, Minghao, and Huang all crammed together on Junhui’s old couch. Junhui has a scrapbook opened on his lap, and the other two are sitting on either side of him. The three of them are conversing amongst themselves while looking at the various photos and knickknacks Junhui has posted into his scrapbook, comfortable smiles painted on their faces and filling the room with the gentle ebb and flow of familiarity.

Wonwoo turns back to face Mingyu – who’s still staring at him – and decides to start meeting the other man halfway.

“I think I’m going to head back home now. Do you need a ride?”

Mingyu blinks. “Are you offering?”

“No, I was just thinking of calling you a cab. Of course I was offering,” Wonwoo manages a grin.

Mingyu blinks once more, before a large smiles stretches over his face.

“In that case, I accept.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo says, digging out his car keys from the depths of his pocket. “Let’s go then.”

Mingyu follows Wonwoo inside.


-x-


It’s when Seokmin falls asleep that Seungkwan begins retracing his steps from Saturday morning. Despite having only been there once, it’s as if the directions have already been imprinted into his eyes, his mind, his very being. It should worry him, and – in some recesses of his mind, it does – but he doesn’t have time to actually ponder over this before he’s standing in front of Hansol’s mint green door.

He knocks. He doesn’t know if he actually means to, but it’s too late to take it back, and Hansol is already pulling the door open.

“Seungkwan—?” The blonde photographer manages to say before Seungkwan is bulldozing over his words with a force that can only come from the fear of verbalized rejection.

“I want you,” he says in a rush. He’s probably running on some sugar high thanks to Seokmin, but he can’t stop anymore. The words come pouring out of him like rainfall. “I want you…physically.”

Hansol’s eyes widen; they’re so brown, so warm, Seungkwan wants to fall in them and never come out again. But that’s a dangerous thought, so he suppresses it and continues with a deceptively bold: “I liked last Friday. I want that. I don’t want anything else—just…just that. Do you—do you want that? Me?”

Maybe it’s foolish to leave an opening for Hansol to turn him away, but Seungkwan needs something, anything.

Anything.

After an eternity, Hansol’s eyes flutter a bit; a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions flash through his eyes in quick succession, and Seungkwan can’t grasp a single one of them with his flimsy fingers even if he tried.

Finally, Hansol’s eyes focus once more on Seungkwan – and the relief at having them rest on him, real and concrete, is palpable – and he breathes out a soft: “Yes.”

Seungkwan falls into Hansol, and they collapse into the photographer’s apartment. Seungkwan presses his lips against Hansol’s, mapping out and familiarizing himself with the terrain, and grasps at the younger man’s shoulders, desperate for something solid and tangible.

Hansol presses back, and for the first time in a long, long time, Seungkwan doesn’t feel like the photographer is miles and miles away.

He’s doesn’t bother asking if Hansol meant yes to this, or to him.

He just presses closer to the other while clutching onto the remains of his heart.

Chapter Text

Hi everyone,

I want to begin this author's note by apologizing for my long, long absence. It's been a while, I know, and I'm sorry to have completely dropped off the face of the world (in terms of updates, responses etc.).

It's been a hectic few months for me, and I've gone through some personal family issues, as well as a few health problems. Whenever things have seemed a little bleak, rereading all your lovely comments tended to perk me back up, and make things seem a little less sad and morbid.

The reception this story has received has gone above and beyond anything I could have ever possibly imagined. Your kind words and encouraging messages meant -- and still mean -- a lot to me. It's made writing this story a true joy, and something I genuinely loved.

I've just started writing again. However, sadly, I've completely fallen out of the K-Pop fandom. It's something that's been a long time coming, I think, and with the terrible tragedies that have been occurring in the community, it seems almost inevitable for me to part from it. I still hold a very fond spot in my heart for SEVENTEEN and the colourful members that make up this band, but -- with the distance that has grown between my heart and the community now -- I fear that I won't be able to do this story justice anymore. I've tried continuing, but the words didn't flow right, and the things I've penned down seemed to have lost the heart that I've poured into the previous chapters.

And so, though I'm loathe to do this, I've decided to put this work on an indefinite hiatus. I've considered just labeling it a discontinued fic, but I don't want to permanently close up that avenue, just in the case that I should return, or in the case that I pass the mantle of writing this story to someone else.

I want to take this moment to just genuinely thank everyone again and apologize deeply. You have all made my stay in this fandom a truly amazing one, and though I'm sad to leave it, I'm sure you will all continue making this community a wonderful and welcoming place. I'm sorry again for abandoning this story. It still means a lot to me, and perhaps one day, I can do this story justice once more (or, at the very least, find someone who will do it justice in my stead). This story has moved on from just my work into a collective one; your comments fueled and inspired me, and the messages I have passed back and forth with all of you is what truly made this story possible. :)

So thank you, truly from the bottom of my heart, and I guess this is a farewell for now.

Love and warm wishes,

achilleus