Chapter Text
Han Seo felt stagnant. Like a stubborn rock burrowed in the shore of a river rapid.
His heart felt heavy, and thrown, drawn from the ragged edges of his own heart break, torn from his chest.
Bending like a willow in the wind-
“Are you done?”
He slammed his cup down. Lips wet with the remnants of liquor, he stared the man down with blurry eyes.
The stranger placed a hand over his, just a fraction too late before a burst of salt exploded onto his tongue, and Han Seo stuck it out as if to shake off the flavour.
“Why don’t you lay it to rest tonight, pulcino? You’ll give yourself a headache.”
The accent was foreign, but his Korean was good- Han Seo was assuming he was a man, he didn’t really have the faculty to come to any other conclusions right now.
He shook his head, the world somehow spinning off it’s kilter again- did his contacts fall out? That’s strange.
Hands curved around him, pulling him to a strong, muscular side as the stranger tugged him to his feet.
“Cazzo-,” The aborted yell made him flinch back, tripping over another stone before his body was righted again by the pair of arms attached to the velvety voiced blur.
The man huffed, muttering something angry in a language Han Seo couldn’t understand, before pulling out his phone.
A hand swept his hair out of his face, gentle, as it caressed his cheek.
“How did you even end up like this?”
—-
“-and the colours clash here. I’m not sure if you see what I see, but maybe try adding something between the two so it flows better-, yeah like a gradient.”
His fingers paused against the keyboard, coming up to pull the phone from his ear, “Exactly, thank you Mr. Ahn. We’ll send the new samples over by Monday.”
Han Seo sighed, pulling his hair back from his forehead to stare emptily at the report in front of him.
A sudden knock had him whipping to look up at the smiling face above him.
Ms. Hong was pressed against the side of his cubicle, her smile was large, lips curling like blooming petals, and her hair fell over her shoulder in a smooth, velvety curtain to ghost over his desk.
“Everything working with the new setup?” She grinned, knocking against the much sturdier wood, “I had Cho get you that moving desk thingy, the one that stands? I thought it’d be good for your back.”
Ah. His old hockey injury. Red bloomed over his cheeks, earning him a wider smile.
“What? Did you think I wouldn’t remember? Han Seo is important to me.”
She preened under his smile, and he nervously tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.
“I love it, Ms. Hong! I like the new office set up, it lets in so much light.”
And let’s me sit across from you everyday, He smiled.
She laughed, loud and boisterous enough to earn a glare from Mr. Nam.
“Well, that wasn’t hard. We basically used to work in a cave before.”
Ms. Hong grinned, “But I’m glad you like it.” Her eyes strayed to his laptop, and she stood straight, patting his cheek softly, “And the report is due next week, don’t work yourself up for nothing.”
And then she was gone, sashaying her way to her office just behind the glass wall.
Han Seo flushed, his toes wiggling as he tried to contain his reaction. His fingers twitched towards the laptop. He would just have to finish it extra early and give it to Ms. Hong.
He always liked the look in her eye, the warm glint that spoke of her satisfaction with his word, before she would reach out, and press her fingers to his nape, stroke a hand down his shoulder.
The feeling roiled in his stomach. Han Seo willed himself to calm down, he couldn’t impress Ms. Hong on a queasy stomach.
A foot kicked out towards the edge of his cubicle. Mr. Nam rolled his chair around the half wall, his glasses falling lower on his nose as he waggled his eyebrows.
“You made a cute face just now, dongsaeng.”
The younger man ducked under the cover of his whirlyboard, mashing the print button, Han Seo went stumbling out of his seat.
Mr. Nam’s chuckles followed him until he reached the printer, his own embarrassment pounding in his ears.
The machine roared to life, rumbling and spitting out the sheets of his report. The table shook dangerously under its weight.
Han Seo could only hope it wouldn’t topple over on him again.
“Don’t get crushed, sweetheart.” The smooth purr curled around his ear and yanked him back into Mi-ri’s orbit.
The shorter woman walked them both back away from the, honestly kind of dangerous, printer of doom.
Eyes shifting towards the slot, he laughed nervously at the command.
“I’m not going to get crushed, Mi-ri.”
Dark eyes met his, a sigh passed her lips and she brought her hand up to tickle his chin lightly.
“Chin up, sweetie. You’ll get it next time.”
Han Seo blinked. She didn’t mean…he groaned into his elbow.
So they all saw it, his stupid, dopey looking face when Ms. Hong swept into his space.
If Han Seok was here he would be laughing at him.
“So, you guys all saw me?” He fiddled with his thumbs, nibbling on the skin there, “Was I being obvious?”
“You absolutely were, sweetheart.” She nodded, rubbing a sage hand over his back.
“You’re going to have to stop calling him so many pet names.” The clacking of something hard against teeth, Youngho. “People are gonna think you’re dating or somethin’.”
Mi-ri’s lip curled, shoving him back, nearly making the younger man swallow his lollipop.
The two argued while Han Seo retrieved his stack from the printer, returning to their side just as Youngho grunted his way.
“Anyway, didn’t you come over here to tell Han Seo something?”
The girl scoffed, “That’s hyung, to you Youngho. And do I look like I need your help for that?”
Han Seo waved his hands, mumbling a soft, he doesn’t have to call me hyung, but snapped his lips shut at the twin glares he received.
The younger man blinked, “Well, if you could handle it by yourself, you would have let Hyung know by now.” He snorted, “Yet you’re still blabbering away.”
Mi-ri glared, shoving him away to turn back to the man counting his sheets.
She waved, “Oh, the printer doesn’t eat paper anymore, sweetie, Cho fixed it.”
The smaller woman clapped suddenly, Han Seo jumped in place as she started dancing around him, “But guess what? The boss said we’re getting a company dinner! On him.”
Youngho mumbled something around his lollipop but moved over to Han Seo’s side.
“I don’t know why you’re celebrating, I’m sitting next to Hyung, old hag.”
Han Seo winced as the two dissolved into petty bickering yet again. Their shrill voices ringing in his ears, getting louder until it earned them stares from their coworkers.
He reached up to tweak Youngho’s ear, ignoring the gasp of righteous indignation behind him.
Mi-ri and Youngho were his only two juniors in the team, each team heads of their own section. The only two in the office who were his age, well, he eyed the younger man by his side, close to his age.
“You wouldn’t even be able to sit next to Seo anyway, he’s section head!”
Right. Right, that was right, Han Seo reminded himself, he was section head of the advertising department, meaning he’d sit next to the sections manager during their team dinner.
His cheeks grew redder at the thought, he’d be seated right next to Ms. Hong for the entire dinner.
Mi-ri and Youngho followed him back to his seat, chatting away, but Han Seo was lost in his thoughts. Of well manicured nails running up his arm, her head tilting back with boisterous laughter, leaning against his shoulder as she attempted to brace herself against something in her joy.
Then she would lean in, and cup his face, the way she always did when she was a little too drunk to be appropriate, and pepper kisses over his cheeks-
Han Seo hid his face in his hands at the thought. Ms. Hong never seemed to realize the effect it had on him, when she acted that way.
“You embarrassed yourself, didn’t you?” Youngho snorted, settling at his desk with a bop of his papers to Han Seo’s head.
The older man glared, brushing his hands away.
“No.” Han Seo hissed.
Mi-ri sighed, her chin placed delicately on her hands, “Were you daydreaming about drunk Supervisor Hong?”
Mr. Nam huffed out a laugh, “Next time she gets drunk, one of us is going to have to call HR.”
“I really doubt that Hyung minds all that much.”
“That’s it, I’m not going.” Han Seo snapped, arms crossed over his chest.
Mr. Nam and Youngho shared a look, before bursting into laughter. The two men bracing themselves against one another.
As if it was so hilarious, Han Seo grumbled to himself, vigorously marking the paysheets.
Watch them laugh when they have to come to him for approval for their vacation time.
Bastards.
“So,” A dangerous voice, sunken in sugar, ghosted over his ear, “I’ll pick you up at 8?”
He really doubted he had a choice.
—-
Han Seo’s doorbell rang at exactly 7:57 p.m., as he jumped into his pants and desperately attempted to make his hair- anything better than what it looked like now.
That meant opening the door one handed, and half pantsed, but Mi-ri was at the door, unimpressed.
He sent her a sheepish look, “You said 8. I still have three minutes.”
“Two.” She deadpanned, but pushed her way through.
Thin fingers immediately fixed everything wrong with his hair, while he finally pulled his pants up above his hips.
As soon as he was done, Mi-ri stood back, and he knew by now that she would require a little spin.
“You look great, of course.” The younger woman nodded, tweaking the open collar of his shirt, “Slutty, but a classy slutty. She’ll love it.”
Han Seo flushed, “Mi-ri-“
“Yep, yep, yep.” She clapped, steering him out of the doors. “No time for embarrassment, we are two minutes behind schedule.”
The car is packed, as it usually is with three people packed into what really should be a two seater.
Youngho was sitting in the back when they came back, looking like a dog sitting in a hot car. Mi-ri said as much, and it took Han Seo another ten minutes to pull the two apart long enough to start driving.
The dinner had been going full blast for an hour when they’d arrived, food just hitting the tables by the time Ms. Hong had wrangled him into the seat between her and Director Cho.
“Manager Jang! Exactly the man I wanted to see.” Director Lee leered, eyes raking over his form, catching on the exposed skin.
Han Seo tucked himself inward, to get away from the prying eyes, when a hand laid itself on his shoulder.
“Well,” Ms. Hong laughed, low, and sultry, as her fingers plucked the edge of his shirt. She leaned in closer, “I can’t say I’m not happy to see you either.”
She sent him a wink, and waved a hand towards a waiter to, not so secretly, order Director Lee a drink. The drunker he was, the less likely he was to bother Han Seo.
The younger man flushed, averting his gaze. His body went stiff, tingly, but Ms. Hong had already gone back to her conversation, as if she didn’t make his heart attempt to pound out of his chest.
Han Seo could see Mi-ri’s half smirk from over the lip of her cup, only falling once Youngho bonked her over the head.
The stiffness was shaken off of his limbs when they started fighting, and he took up his usual role as twenty-six year old babysitter. It was nice, as it always was, to be squashed between Ms. Hong and his two friends, with little more to worry about than the food coming out in droves.
That, and the inevitable-
“WHEW!” The cup slammed against the table.
Ms. Hong wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her cheeks were flushed red, pulled tight around a mischievous grin spent on teasing a (somehow) even drunker Mr. Nam.
Han Seo couldn’t help but admire the gentle slope of her nose from the side, the peachy shade of pink her lips stained after being bitten all night. Even if it meant he’d half to carry half of his section into various cabs tonight.
“L-Let’s have a toast, to Han Seo-!” Mi-ri slurred, teetering towards the end of the table.
Youngho reluctantly steadied her, and Han Seo was snapped out of daydreaming long enough to attempt to help. That was until two arms wrapped around him, and Ms. Hong pulled him into another side hug.
His heart thundered against its confines.
“Ms. Hong?” He squeaked.
Her lips pressed against his cheek, in a sloppy kiss, smearing her lipstick flush against his skin, “Shhh, there’s a speech, Han Seo.”
That was fine, he thought to himself after a harsh swallow. He didn’t think he was capable of speaking right now anyway.
Mi-ri stumbled through her words with all the elegance of a kindergarten show and tell, and Han Seo was sure that if he was as drunk as the rest, he would’ve thought it prolific.
She trekked, incredibly slowly, back to her seat across from him, and made a show of leaning over to pat his head.
“Alright, alright.” Han Seo grumbled, pulling her clumsy fingers from his hair, “No need for embellishment, Mi-ri.”
“I was- hic- serious, lovely.” Mi-ri glared wobbly, “Without your advertising-hic-, and, your ideas, we wouldn’t get like, any, deals, like at all.”
“Yeah, we got that Staples deal because of you.” Youngho chimed in, significantly less drunk, but cradling a beer. “You should take more pride in yourself.”
Han Seo burned. Head pounding, as the words slammed against the insides of his head.
“H-How about we change the topic.” He giggled nervously, as Ms. Hong’s head teetered dangerously off his shoulder, “How are you guys?”
Mi-ri glared, overly suspicious, but grumbled out a quick, good, before swiping the beer from Youngho’s hands.
The younger didn’t even bother to answer, as the two devolved into fighting again, and Mr. Nam chuckled.
“They’re not answering anytime soon,” His co-worker snorted. Nam tilted his chin towards Ms. Hong, “What about you, Cha Young? How are you?”
At the mention of her name, Ms. Hong rolled her head off his shoulder to land miserably against the table.
Despite himself, Han Seo missed the warmth against him, her hair draped over his back. He didn’t have much time to think about it though, between holding his two friends apart, and dodging another, very unsubtle, invitation from Director Lee.
“I am awful.” Han Seo heard her groan.
Mr. Nam snickered, downing the rest of his shot to shoot her a look, “Oh?”
Ms. Hong launched upwards, hair messily falling into her face.
“He is awful.”
Han Seo paused. He let his eyes wander towards her, heart picking up.
“No matter what I do, he just doesn’t see that I like him. What kind of crap is that?”
Could it-? No, Han Seo dared not to hope.
Nam nodded sagely as Ms. Hong waved a hand, slapping the table open palmed.
“I dress pretty, I touch his shoulder, and flip my hair, and he doesn’t even react.” She whined, lips pouted.
Han Seo swallowed, that, could have been him. It could have been a quick sweep of the eyes, her hands resting against his shoulder, or maybe her lips against his cheek.
“Fuck,” Ms. Hong growled, “I even asked him to dinner yesterday, and he blew me off.”
Han Seo paused. So did Nam. The older man shot him a look, sitting up taller in his seat.
That didn’t sound like him.
“He said he had an important meeting to go to with the President.” She scoffed, “As if.”
That…definitely wasn’t him.
Han Seo stood, almost absentmindedly, from his seat. Mr. Nam was torn between him, and Ms. Hong, who was still ranting, to stop him as he grabbed his coat.
“Youngho.” He barked, grabbing his younger friend’s attention.
Youngho flinched, and Han Seo cleared his throat, tone much softer as he handed him a folded wad of bills, “For the cab home.”
He walked away before his friend could ask him any questions. The cool air burst over his face, and he stepped out into the night to the sound of his friends calling his name.
Han Seo stepped onto the streets. His feet dodging pebbles, and puddles, absently moving around people. Young people giggling in the night, night vendors, and fresh fallen snow.
The tears started before he could feel them coming, only alerted by the sound of water dripping across cold concrete. People gave him looks as he passed them by.
Stupid. Han Seo roughly wiped his face. So, stupid, it’s your own fault.
He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, he shouldn’t have spared it a thought, or gotten so attached.
And how ironic was it, that he was the one hobbling down the street, swaying with the wind as if his body couldn’t hold him. As if he wasn’t the only one sober.
He collapsed against a park bench. He really wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, and it only just occurred to him that he left his car at the restaurant.
Han Seo puffed out a breath, coming up in clouds above him.
“What are you doing, Han Seo..?” He laughed.
The cool night air cleared his head. It was too sobering too soon to be thrown back in the heartbreak of it all.
Deep in his thoughts, while they were laughing, drunk and unaware.
Han Seo sat up, there was nothing stopping him from doing the same.
Other than his…crippling sensitivity to alcohol. His car wasn’t with him anyway, it wasn’t as if he could drive. He might as well drown out his sorrows in liquor.
Han Seo stood, walking in half, aborted circles until he finally stopped in a bar.
It was too fancy for his half opened shirt, and slacks- even if they were designer.
The music was low, a mere simmer above the talking level of the crowd. The crowd that paid him no mind as he shuffled quietly towards a stool.
The bartender stared, probably a little too long to be polite, at his chest before asking for his order.
Han Seo squinted at the wall of liquor behind him, then pointed to a bottle.
“That one. Third from the bottom, fourth row.”
The bartender turned, raising a thick brow, “Kid, I don’t know what you think-“
Han Seo sighed, throwing his card into the bar, “I’ll take the whole bottle.”
The bartender choked, rushing to grab the bottle from the back and gently placing a glass in front of him.
The man beside him chuckled, and Han Seo spared him a glance.
The man was mature, hair swept back into a neat quiff, a charming smile around the lip of crystal glass.
Whiskey. Of course, the drink of sophisticated men.
Han Seo flushed at his behaviour, taking the bottle as it was offered to him.
He had no time to be thinking of strange men, when he should be drinking his feelings away.
Han Seo throws back shot after shot of the- he didn’t even know what it was honestly, only that the burn caused tears to well up in his eyes.
Or at least he’d like to think it was the burn. Instead of the pang in his chest that had his cheek pressed against the cool glass, dripping a river of tears onto its surface.
He probably looked pathetic, and Han Seo wished he had the presence of mind to care.
A hand gently touched his head. He looked up through bleary eyes at the blurry figure in front of him.
He sounded like he was speaking around a cotton ball, but his voice was low, and velvety, smooth, as he sat closer. A hand caressed the side of his face.
“Who hurt you, pulcino?”
I don’t know anymore, Han Seo thought to himself, but he was sure whatever it was, this man’s voice was the answer.
—-
Han Seo woke up with a gasp. He sat up, and immediately slammed back down, once he processed the pain in his head.
The dream was so present in his head, still, even as he had tugged himself from its clutches. The man’s face, coming together in bits and pieces of a foreign beauty, was a vision that made him almost certain that it couldn’t have been real.
Almost, certain.
It would have been a surety, if he hadn’t woken up on a couch that he did not recognize.
Being a lightweight in a group of heavy drinkers, Han Seo wasn’t a stranger to the litany of couches in his friend’s apartments.
This couch- a light tweed, too fashionable to be Nam’s, too masculine to be Mi-ri’s, too grey to be Ms. Hong’s. It wasn’t in the centre of a rushing, bustling family, motherly hands weren’t pulling him up for hangover soup yet — so, not Youngho’s either.
Han Seo prayed he didn’t somehow end up running into Director Lee again last night. Quick hands patted over his - covered (he breathed a sigh of relief) - chest, which meant Lee wasn’t in the question.
Han Seo chanced opening his eye just a crack, peeling both open when he noticed the curtains drawn shut, lights dim.
A man sat in the middle of the room, cross legged on the carpet in front of a laptop. He was typing away diligently, hands coming up to swipe hair out of his face. Hair that used to be combed back out of his eyes-
Wait. Han Seo blinked, flashes of the night before coming back, this time as memories. His sobbing, falling into the arms of a stranger, nearly drinking soya sauce-
Han Seo fell to his knees, the bareness of them cracking against the wooden floors. Surprised eyes flew to him just as he bent over, pressing his forehead to the floor in the lowest bow he could manage without emptying his stomach.
“I’m so sorry! I truly apologize for whatever trouble I caused you!” He whimpered into the floorboards.
A flurry of footsteps were all his warning before strong hands wrapped around his waist, picking him up and plopping him back into the couch with the effort of swatting a fly.
The man, saying words lowly, in a language Han Seo didn’t understand, pressed his hands against his forehead.
Whatever he felt was enough to send him to his feet again, muttering in that foreign language. Before Han Seo could start pleading for mercy, the man returned, slapping a cool compress against his forehead.
“Lay down.” He said gruffly, gently pressing Han Seo back down into the pillows, “You have a fever.”
Han Seo was blindsided by the contrast of his words, but settled back into the warm cushions.
The man rummaged around in his kitchen methodically. Han Seo watched him move about before he finally stopped in front of him with a warm mug, pressing it into his hands.
After a few minutes, sipping quietly on the warm cup of tea, Han Seo spoke again, “I know I already said it, but I really am sorry.”
The man only stared. His gaze flowed over Han Seo in a way that should have been piercing, uncomfortable. Only, he felt comfortable under the eyes of this stranger.
“Would you like breakfast?” The man asked, standing.
Han Seo blinked.
Soon, the foreign man had gently corralled him towards the kitchen. He tucked Han Seo in the blankets wrapped around him, and sat him down with the remainder of his tea.
The moment was quiet, felt more intimate than it should have been with a stranger, as Han Seo watched him cook.
By the time the man sat back down in front of him, Han Seo was bursting with questions.
He didn’t even know his name, they definitely didn’t sleep together- Han Seo was sure he’d remember that, and the more silence he received the more curious he became.
“Vincenzo.” A smooth voice coaxed him from his thoughts, the older man thumbed the rim of his mug, a laugh slipping past his lips at his confusion, “My name.”
Han Seo flushed, “Yes! Of course, my name is Jang Han Seo.”
Vincenzo hummed, “Han Seo.”
The name rolled off his tongue in a purr, running up Han Seo’s spine to land as a lump in his throat.
He nodded. Vincenzo took a long sip of his coffee.
“Now that you’re more in possession of your… faculties, what happened last night?” Vincenzo inquired, a smile teasing the corners of his lips, “I tried asking drunk Han Seo, but all I received were tears.”
Han Seo fiddled with his blankets. He’d mostly forgotten about his feelings, buried under a mountainous headache, and the effort not to gawk at the beautiful man in front of him.
Still, the thought of his behaviour the previous night, in combination with the heartache he was (rather unsuccessfully) battling, was enough for tears to pool in his eyes.
Maybe that was why Ms. Hong refused to look his way. He was too immature, too brash and childish for a woman like Hong Cha Young. Someone who was strong, independent and put together; she needed someone on par with her.
Han Seo simply wasn’t that person.
Warm hands cupped his cheeks. The thumb that swiped under his eye did so gently. Smoothing the skin under the pads of their fingers and gently chasing his tears away.
“I was only joking, pulcino.” Vincenzo mumbled, brows knitted, but he smiled when Han Seo leaned into the touch. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Han Seo regarded the stranger who held his face in his hands, touched him so casually, calmed him so easily.
He sighed, cheeks flushed- mostly out of humiliation, less so because the sun was hitting Vincenzo just right. The smouldering (or was that just his face) the man was delivering was lethal enough without the sun to assist through the blinds.
Han Seo cleared his throat, “I, I was rejected- well, I will be rejected if I tell this person that I like them.”
Vincenzo blinked slowly, and Han Seo winced, “That, was a terrible explanation, I’m sorry. I found out the person I have liked for a while, my supervisor — of all people, I know, likes someone else and is actively pursuing them.”
Vincenzo did nothing but caress his cheeks as the tears pricked at his eyes again.
“I don’t know, I just thought that it could’ve been me.” Han Seo snorted, “It wasn’t. Not even close.”
As soon as the words passed his lips Han Seo cringed. Vincenzo probably thought he was grieving, or something significant to be behaving so badly. Not a crush gone bad.
The shame rose like bile in his throat again, embarrassing himself in front of this man. A man who so clearly had himself together, was mature and earth shatteringly confident.
Han Seo groaned, laughing quietly to himself, “What’s wrong with me?”
The man in front of him tensed, scooting his chair closer. Despite the fluidity of his movements before, Vincenzo’s hands paused in the air before they landed in his hair.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Vincenzo huffed, certain, as if he wasn’t a stranger, “That’s just, well, life. Sometimes the people we love, like, don’t feel the same way.”
Vincenzo’s grin returned, creasing at his eyes, “And Han Seo is too pretty to cry over someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”
Han Seo was sure that if he didn’t stop the flush now, his blood would rush to his head, and his heart would pop like a balloon.
Vincenzo had taken care of him, comforted him, and treated him with more kindness than he was used to beyond his tiny circle.
Han Seo sniffled, “Thank you, Vincenzo.”
“Hyung.” The man corrected, almost absentmindedly, and smirked when Han Seo sputtered, “You begged to call me that last night. I’m only granting you permission, Han Seo.”
“Wh- Hyung!” Han Seo burned.
“That’s right.”
—-
The next morning, Han Seo ducked through the office doors to the sound of Youngho’s needling and Mr. Nam’s laughter.
Both men were too wrapped up in their banter to give him much more than a quick greeting (and a radiant smile from Youngho), and Han Seo found himself relieved.
He was more than embarrassed about storming out already, but none of him seemed to remember much of anything.
“Good morning.” He heard a grumble to his right.
Peeking over their divider, Han Seo could see Mi-ri, her face squished onto her desk, looking very… green.
He raised his hand in greeting, only for her to scamper off to the bathroom immediately.
Han Seo winced, she’d be getting that out of her system for the rest of the day.
Round on his desk, the young manager plopped into his chair. His things were spread around him, organized to a tee, and set to get to work-
(“Don’t drink that, it’s soy sauce.”)
Han Seo paused. The deep voice sounded in his head, sending a shiver down his spine.
Vincenzo had been kind. Incredibly kind, and he had been incredibly generous from before Han Seo had even woken up.
The younger man fiddled with his thumbs, he had taken him to his apartment after all.
The man fed him, made sure he was bathed, loaned him a new shirt- he even drove him to work!
Han Seo flushed, fingers twitching towards his phone, and he gave him his number.
He dropped it against the table, the device clattering noisily against the wood. Youngho shot him a look from over the divider.
Han Seo flushed. His cheeks burned, but he got to typing. He wouldn’t agonize over their interactions just yet.
That was a lie. A damned lie.
He spent the next few hours rotating between the memories flooding back- he dragged that man to karaoke, and furiously typing away at his report to forget.
Between the sound of his aborted screams, only half muffled, and his fingers angrily jabbing his keyboard, Han Seo was sure the office thought he was possessed-
“Han Seo?”
He squawked at the sudden call. The section manager cleared his throat, looking up the one who called his name- Ms. Hong (of course) - with his most put together expression.
“Yes, Ms. Hong?”
The head looked somewhat taken aback by his change in demeanours, but tapped his desk, “How is the year end report looking, it’s March already so-“
Han Seo smiled, holding up the pile of sheets stacked neatly in the corner of his desk, one of three (3) reports he’d finished in the span of two hours.
The older woman blinked, but nodded her head and took the papers from his hands.
Han Seo turned away, staring pointedly at his computer screen. Her feet lingered by his desk for a moment, before he heard the telltale sign of her heels clicking away.
He released a breath.
The heartache wouldn’t go away so soon, Han Seo thought to himself, but he wouldn’t deny that he felt refreshed.
Was that normal? He mused. He felt like there was a weight off his back.
Maybe it could be a good thing.
He’d known deep down that Ms. Hong wouldn’t look towards him. It had been a hopeless little crush, and he had wished that she would, but her confession came at the right time.
He didn’t even have to admit that he liked her, just to get rejected, Han Seo smiled self satisfyingly.
Besides, Han Seo’s fingers twitched towards his phone, without his…tasteful meltdown, he wouldn’t have made a new friend.
—-
The day ended as quickly as it started. Mi-ri was in the toilet half of it, before finally calling it quits at noon.
Youngho had only taken advantage of his rare monopoly over his Hyung.
Han Seo would take it as a solid victory that he was only questioned once today, and even then, Nam’s memory was too questionable to be sure.
No one knew of his embarrassing tantrum. Well, except for Vincenzo.
With the day as a success, Han Seo decided to reward himself with a coffee.
Not a black coffee, like Han Seok had insisted was the only way to drink it (ironic, as if he wasn’t seconds away from a sugar induced coma half the time) but Han Seo’s favourite:
A London Fog.
The most decadent, delicious, sweet indulgence he could think of. It was expensive, and his trainer would probably pitch an absolute fit if he knew, but it was his little secret.
The fragrance drifted into his face as he took a sip, his lips cradled in the foam.
Han Seo groaned. His back hit his chair, probably earning some looks from the barista- but this was it.
He would sit in his chair, in this little café across the street from his job, drink his London Fog, and settle down from the day.
Han Seo wrinkled his nose, he’d totally forgotten about his car. The dusty old thing (he said with love) was probably still parked in front of the bar.
The young professional sighed. He would have to make sure to check the buses. The trains never came this far out, and the lag would kill him if he got hit with it.
“That doesn’t matter right now.” He mumbled to himself, taking another whiff of the warm latte in his hands.
Nothing mattered, other than his London Fog.
And his phone buzzing violently against the table.
The noise making earned him some dirty looks from the other patrons, and he half bowed in apology, before picking it up.
It was a text- from an unknown number at that.
Are you finished with work?
Han Seo raised a brow. He didn’t remember giving out his number, not unless he did it before Vincenzo had managed to catch him.
Han Seo’s fingers paused over the keyboard, before typing out a reply.
I’m sorry, who is this?
He placed his phone down, taking another calming sip of his latte. He would have to grab a bus soon, and he didn't want to rush it.
:(
You haven’t saved hyungie’s number yet, Han Seo?
I’m hurt.
Han Seo gasped, earning more glares, but he couldn’t pay attention right now.
How could he have forgotten about Vincenzo?
He desperately tried to type out an apology, only to swipe and accept a call.
“Han Seo.”
Despite himself, the smooth velvety, tone melted away his worries.
“Hyung, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your number.” He said, voice bordering on a whimper.
The Italian laughed, “Don't worry about it, come outside.”
“Wh- Are you here?” Han Seo blinked.
He moved about, peeking outside to try and catch a glimpse of his new acquaintance.
Vincenzo hummed, “I am. I realized you don’t have a car.
The younger let out a small gasp, shoving a lid on the styrofoam cup, “Yes, but you already drove me to work- I mean, unless you weren’t here to drive me and I’m just being presumptuous-“
“Han Seo.” He startled as he felt a hand wrap loosely around his wrist.
Vincenzo motioned to put the phone down.
“Hyung!” Han Seo exclaimed, shoving the thing in his pocket, “I didn’t even see you.”
The older man appraised him for a second, low lidded, and intense in a way Han Seo wasn’t quite sure what to do with.
He said nothing, instead dragging the younger man behind him until they reached his car.
For once, Han Seo appreciated the silence. It gave no credence to his overthinking. Instead, his mind was focussed on the warmth of the other man’s hands on his own.
“Watch your head, pulcino.” The older man rumbled, allowing Han Seo to duck in, before closing the door and crossing to the other side.
Vincenzo gave him a look, as he started the car, and Han Seo hurriedly buckled his seatbelt.
Han Seo shifted in the seat, as the older man pulled out of the parking lot.
“I- I could have taken a taxi or something, Hyung. You didn’t need to go out of your way…”
Vincenzo glanced at him from the corner of his eye, his hand fell, heavy, onto Han Seo’s thigh. The older man squeezed the flesh firmly.
“I know. I wanted to drive you home. It’s safer this way.” Vincenzo gave him a quick smile, and Han Seo nodded dumbly.
The hand stayed for the rest of the ride.
—-
Vincenzo comes to pick him up the next day to get his car.
Then, when Han Seo drove back to his apartment, the younger man hopped out of his car, and into the passenger seat of Vincenzo’s. The older man said nothing, but his hand laid heavy on his thigh again.
That day had started a ritual between them. Han Seo would get ready in the mornings, and Vincenzo would be waiting outside.
He would allow Han Seo to talk about all sorts of things, and occasionally, would comment back. He listened to his ramblings, ranting and worries, and encouraged him to talk even more. The older man made his silly thoughts feel important.
In return, Vincenzo spoke of his life back in Italy. He talked about his family, and their business- which, Han Seo was no expert, but was probably a hair’s width away from being classified as a mafia.
Han Seo learned that they both liked art, even if Han Seo wasn’t all that good at remembering the history behind the artists. They both liked expensive cheese, and can’t stand to eat dinner without wine. Vincenzo had even convinced him to go to an opera house with him some evening.
After work was much of the same- Han Seo would run down to his hyung’s car, and they would drive to some bistro and get dinner. Vincenzo would let him drink, but never too much. Han Seo was still a little embarrassed about their first meeting, but Vincenzo had only laughed.
He spent more time in Vincenzo’s guest room than he did in his own room lately, and in doing so, had the pleasure of meeting Vincenzo’s pet pigeon (who the Italian insisted was not a pet- but who did live here).
It was slow, and sure, but he was healing. There were days when his heart still twinged, but fluttered when rich cologne, full and smooth like red wine, would capture him, and Vincenzo was standing right there in front of him again.
Heartbreak was inevitable, Han Seo he realized, but it was only temporary.
He wouldn’t pin it on his heart forever. Not when it started beating to a different rhythm entirely.
“Seo, darling, are you finished yet?” Mi-ri’s lyrical voice called out.
Her hair fell over his shoulder, black like piano keys.
Han Seo patted his friend’s head, as she blinked up towards him.
“I’m almost done, Mi-ri. Just one more pass.”
His colleague sighed, slumping against their divider, “Han Seo, is three not enough?”
His phone buzzed against the table. Han Seo reached for it, a text lighting up his screen, when his eyes caught a typo.
He grunted, highlighting it in red, “No, apparently not.”
Han Seo stood, Mi-ri’s pitiful cries followed him to the copy machine, and his phone went ignored.
By the fourth pass, he felt satisfied enough to hand the report over to Mi-ri. The woman looked at him, exasperated, but took it anyway.
“You know it’s my job to proof it, right?” She huffed out a laugh. She stamped the thing immediately, and Han Seo smiled.
“Well, now you don’t have to-“
They were interrupted by the sound of chairs skidding against the floor. Han Seo blinked as their colleagues stood, turning full attention to the door.
Han Seo and Mi-ri followed suit.
“Do you know what’s happening?” The younger woman asked him.
Han Seo shook his head, “Maybe it’s the boss?”
His friend gasped quietly, “Is it a surprise review? He didn’t mention he was coming- did we fuck up?”
Han Seo only held a strong hand to her shoulder, squeezing.
They hadn’t had a fuckup large enough to summon their boss since he’d started 5 years ago, and he wasn’t about to believe they’d start now.
Still, there was a flutter in his stomach, a morbid curiosity as he heard heels clicked down the hallway. Too deep to be stilettos, too heavy to be the hurried steps of a nervous colleague, and all too familiar.
The steps disappeared down a different direction, and they all settled into their seats with a collective sigh of relief.
“I thought we were done for.” Nam hissed, sliding into his chair.
Youngho nodded, his junior left looking more ruffled than ever. Han Seo laid a hand on his back.
Then Mi-ri pouted, and he laid a hand on hers too.
Soon enough, they devolved into bickering again and the lingering tenseness in the office was dissolved.
Han Seo simply let them be, reaching for another task, when a hand laid over his.
“What-“ He laughed, looking up to see his Hyung standing in front of him.
Han Seo clambered to his feet, “Hyung! What are you doing here?”
The older man smiled, and gestured to his phone. Han Seo grabbed it, and then groaned.
He looked back to Vincenzo, lashes fluttering, “I’m very sorry, Hyung. I didn’t realize you messaged me.”
His Hyung tweaked his ear, his smile openly fond. The butterflies in Han Seo’s stomach only seemed to grow more restless, as the flush rose higher on his cheeks.
The Italian swept his hair behind his ear, and suddenly, Han Seo was very aware of the eyes on them.
“Are you embarrassed of me, pulcino?” The older man purred, eyes sweeping over the intruding eyes.
Han Seo shook his head and Vincenzo pulled him into his side, “Good, let’s go then.”
Go- Han Seo blinked, was he suggesting he leave work early?
Han Seo certainly wasn’t a coffee boy, or an entry level employee, but to just leave? And worse, when everyone was sure that the big boss was in the office too?
Vincenzo’s arm locked securely around him. Surprisingly, no one said a word as Han Seo shoved his completed proofed reports towards Mi-ri, and allowed himself to be tugged along.
“-Seo?”
“Oh, Ms. Hong, he-“
A delicate hand laid itself of his wrist, and Ms. Hong’s worried face came into view.
Han Seo shuttered in place, jerked backwards by the older man’s steady grip,
“Ms. Hong-“
“Did you need something, Ms. Hong?” Vincenzo’s voice floated over them.
Like an unrelenting wave, it forced them under his feet. Han Seo’s cheeks warmed. His Hyung’s fingers were clasped around his wrist, they were pressed side to side.
It wasn’t the time, or the place for his heart to be beating as fast as it was.
His supervisor stood straighter, fingers dropping from his wrist one by one - Han Seo couldn’t help but think it symbolic of something. Then she smiled, bending away from them with an edge.
Han Seo looked between the two. The purse of Vincenzo’s lips, brows furrowed just the slightest. The curl of Ms. Hong’s lips, ruby red and less inviting, than they used to be in the uncomfortable simper.
His co-workers were standing stiffly just behind them, and Han Seo had only just noticed that they were all out of their seats.
Nam blinked owlishly after him from across the room. His mouth moved rapidly, though it snapped shut when Vincenzo’s cool gaze washed over him.
Han Seo squinted, what was he trying to say-
“Of course not, Mr. Cassano.”
Oh.
Oh .