Archive of Our Own

Cherry blossom season was always Minho's favorite season this time of year. Whenever the springtime breeze blew past him causing a shower of cherry blossom leaves to fall all over him, Minho always thought it was his mom blessing him from above. His mother was a florist before she passed, and her knowledge and love for flowers had rooted a deep appreciation for the plants within him. Minho glanced up at the twirling cherry blossom petal falling before him. His mood automatically lifted when he walked past them. Minho took a deep breath as he walked down the pleasant pathway to his place of work, the restaurant.

He was Head Chef at one of the city’s finest fusion cuisine restaurants and he was quite proud of it. It was not often someone fresh out of culinary school like him got the opportunity to do their apprenticeship at such a reputed establishment but he did and he was offered to be sous-chef within a year into his apprenticeship. No small feat by any means. It was almost unheard of. Minho was quickly labelled a genius, his presence in the kitchen was staggering, rivaling that of even Gordon Ramsay. And within three years he was made Head Chef of the restaurant. Now he stood managing one of the top restaurants in the city that was well on its way to gaining its second michelin.

Minho loved his job, don’t get him wrong. He loved cooking, handing out food, watching the customer’s pleased expressions as they savored creations made by his hands. Nothing left the kitchen without his strict approval and it was one of the reasons the restaurant’s standards never dropped. But his constant need to put out the utter best had made him a workaholic with barely any personal life. Jisung, his sous-chef, never failed to remind him of the same at every opportunity.

He had met Jisung during his years as a sous-chef at the restaurant. The young chef had chosen his restaurant to do his apprenticeship much like Minho had. Minho, who didn’t mingle with anyone, took a liking to Jisung almost immediately. Jisung was brilliant. He was a little clumsy but under Minho’s guidance Jisung blossomed into one of the finest chefs at the restaurant and one of the few who was able to keep pace with Minho when the restaurant got into its daily meal time rush. So, it was quite an easy decision to pick Jisung as his sous-chef when he was made Head Chef. They worked well together and their dishes left nothing but praise in their patron’s mouths.

But despite working extremely well, Jisung was nothing like Minho. Unlike Minho, he hated being holed up in the restaurant all the time. He actively partied, spent his weekends going on tiny trips with his boyfriend and did almost anything to get away from the hustle of the city. Jisung even managed to have a boyfriend despite his nightmarish schedule, something Minho couldn’t even think of indulging in due to his commitments at the restaurant.

Minho opened the door to the restaurant, relishing the cool air of the air-con on his face. He walked to the staff room to get changed into his chef’s coat only to get intercepted by his very hungover sous-chef.

Jisung groaned, clutching his head. “Man, I regret drinking so much.”

“Then don’t do it.” Minho smiled as he took off his chef’s coat from the hanger.

Jisung laughed painfully, his hands squeezed his head in an attempt to conceal the pain the laugh brought. “You know that I am only lying. Life’s no fun without a little happy juice.”

Minho scoffed, quite aware of his friend’s antics. “Sure, whatever you say, big boy. Did you take some aspirin?”

Jisung nodded with a groan. “I feel like a truck hit a very loud gong while it ran over me.”

Minho, now dressed, placed a hand on his friend. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, today is a weekday.”

Jisung’s smile was immediate. Weekdays meant a lighter workload compared to the chaos the weekend always brought.

“Did your boyfriend go with you last night? How did you get home?” Minho asked, concerned.

“No, Jeongin’s in Busan, at his parents. His mom hasn’t been feeling too well. And I took a taxi home, don’t worry.”

“So you drank like a fish because you missed him?” Minho sported a slight smile.

Jisung grimaced before curling his lips into his signature pout coupled with his puffed out cheeks. “What was I supposed to do? Being at home was incredibly lonely without him and I couldn’t exactly go to him either. So a night spent drinking and dancing seemed like a decent plan then.”

Minho nodded in understanding. He picked up a to-do list from his maître d' for inventory check and then headed to the walk-in freezer to keep stock of their supplies. Jisung followed him into the freezer wordlessly.

Minho cast a glance at him over his shoulder. “Don’t you have prep to do? Mise en place isn’t going to do itself you know.”

Jisung clicked his tongue and chose to ignore him. “You know, I saw someone very interesting at the club I was at last night.”

Minho hummed in disinterest. They were running a little low on Korean Beef so  Minho made a mental note to place an order for more later, once the day’s service was done.

Jisung sighed knowing he wasn’t going to get any positive response from the man. “It was Bang Chan.”

Minho’s hands froze mid-count. He quickly turned around. “Bang Chan? Our owner, Mr. Bang?”

Jisung nodded excitedly. “I couldn’t believe it either. I mean, we’ve hardly ever seen him since he was in Australia all this while but it seemed like he was back in Korea.”

Minho bit his lip and clenched his free hand. Bang Chan was back in town. Minho sighed.

In his years working at the restaurant, Bang Chan was not someone the staff saw often despite being the owner of the establishment. The last time he laid eyes on the man was when he was handed the offer of Head Chef. It was apparently under Bang Chan’s recommendation that he got the position after having sampled his special menu as sous-chef. He flew to Australia shortly after to look after his other business ventures, leaving the management of the restaurant in Minho’s capable hands. The newer staff had no idea who he was and the only reason Jisung recognised him was because he was doing his apprenticeship during the time Minho got offered the position of Head Chef.

He let out another breath and decided to resume taking stock of the inventory. 

Bang Chan was someone he thought he would never see again. He remembered the first time he came across the man. Minho had mistaken him for a waiter at the restaurant who was late to the shift. The young sous-chef, already in a pissy mood because some idiot had botched their soup that took nearly three hours to prepare, ripped into Bang Chan for coming in late and gave him a long lecture on punctuality and his incredible dislike for tardiness. Bang Chan had listened to the entire thing with a smile on his face. At that moment, it had pissed Minho off a lot. He ended up leaving the scene to angrily stomp back into the kitchen to fix some of the mess that was the soup. 

It was only much later, after the meal rush had died down and everyone was cleaning up, did the Head Chef at the time tell him that the man he lectured was actually the owner of the place. Minho had remembered wanting the ground to open up completely and swallow him whole to save him from the immense embarrassment he felt. He tried several times after that to apologize but the owner rarely showed up to the restaurant. On the days he did show up, Minho made extra sure to try to not act like a fool which was especially hard considering he was mentoring a very clumsy Jisung. But what was more peculiar was that every time the owner visited he asked to be served only by Minho to the extent where the sous-chef had to serve his dish to Bang Chan himself.

He didn’t mind serving the owner himself. He considered it his way of atoning for the blunder that was him yelling at his boss. As sous-chef, he wanted to put forth his best impression to his boss but since part of that was already botched he was eager to do anything that could help wash away that image Bang Chan had of him. What did bother him a little bit though was that Bang Chan was undeniably handsome. Unapologetically so and it never failed to incite strange feelings in him whenever he served the man. That dimpled smile that was directed at him the minute he sampled some of Minho’s food always made his heart do a somersault in his chest. But before Minho could even give a thought to what those feelings entailed, Bang Chan left for Australia. He did make Minho Head Chef before he left but at that moment Minho felt like a man left alone on an island with no means of escape. 

Like anything Minho did, he got the hang of the job quite quickly. The new job came with its own trials and tribulations and in the commotion of it all, he was left with little to no time to dwell on their owner, Bang Chan. It’s not like he didn’t want a relationship or companionship, he just didn’t have time for it. The restaurant was all he ever needed. He was happy with how his life was. However, now with Bang Chan back in Korea, the unexplored feelings that he had kept buried deep within him suddenly floated up to the surface. 

“He wasn’t alone, though.” Jisung added nonchalantly.

Minho cast him a subtle glance, not wanting to show that he was interested in the conversation. 

“Yeah, he was with this really pretty, tall, blonde man and another short but very buff man. Looked like Bang Chan’s bodyguard if I was to take a wild guess.” 

“Oh.” Minho replied, a little disgruntled. The itch in his chest was a lot more prominent than before. Minho’s palm rubbed at his chest involuntarily.

“Do you think he’s gonna visit the restaurant?”

Minho sighed. He signed the list after finishing the inventory check. “I’m sure he will. He’s the owner after all.”

Jisung nodded in response. 

Minho clapped his hands to get Jisung’s attention. “Yes, let’s get to work now. Prep isn’t going to do itself.” He walked out of the freezer followed by a groaning Jisung.  

The day went on as well as expected. Meal time rush was dealt with efficiently under Minho’s vigilant guidance and there were minimal mistakes. It was only after the second meal time rush was done and the kitchen cleaned did he hear the door of the restaurant chime from the kitchen.

“Sorry, guys. We’re closed right now. You can come back or reserve a table for tomorrow.” Minho sounded out from the kitchen confident he was heard with his loud voice. He was the only one left since the other staff had left for home a while ago.

He heard someone clear their throat. “Well, I thought maybe I could catch you.”

Catch me? Who even was this guy? Annoyed not only because this man just decided to up and flirt but also because in the midst of being surprised by the comment, he miscounted the sacks of potatoes they had in storage. Minho wiped his hands in irritation on his apron as he walked through the doors that connected the seating area to the kitchen.

“Who even—?” Minho stopped mid sentence.

There before him, in all his glory, stood Bang Chan. 

“You…” Minho breathed out, mildly surprised that his breath came out so wispy. 

“Me?” Bang Chan added with a chuckle.

They spent the next few minutes just looking at each other. Minho eagerly drank in the view and Bang Chan let him, doing the same. The owner looked good in the black button up and tailored pants he wore that hugged his legs deliciously. He looked expensive and dignified. Not untidy like how Minho felt. His hair was a mess and he was sure his chef’s coat sported several sauce stains from the day.

Minho cleared his throat. “What brings you here, Mr. Bang?”

“Chan, please. Mr. Bang is my father.” Chan walked closer to Minho.

“All right then, Chan, what brings you here so late?”

“A meal, actually.”

“Unfortunately all the staff have gone home for the day.”

“You’re still here though. Which works out well since I came to eat something prepared by you.” Chan chuckled softly, his hands reached up to tug on his collar.

Minho’s eyes followed the movement like a hawk, drifting slowly to look at Chan’s face only to find the man looking right back at him. He immediately felt his face flush. Embarrassed at being caught he quickly nodded. Minho gestured for Chan to take a seat while he walked back into the kitchen.

“I don’t have anything prepped. Do you mind waiting?” Minho called out from the kitchen.

“Not at all. Take your time, Minho. I’ve got all night.” The owner yelled back.

Minho walked into his walk-in freezer and looked around for ingredients. He didn’t need to ask if Chan wanted something off the menu because that was never the case. Even before he had gone to Australia, Chan always preferred that Minho serve him whatever he wanted. Chan had never complained once. Tonight was the same. It didn’t matter what the meal was as long as it was prepared by Minho. The Head Chef sighed as he grabbed two cuts of lamb and walked out of the freezer. He then proceeded to French the bones to get rid of any excess fat and tendinous tissue. Having served Chan quite a few times before he knew the man had a soft spot for lamb and that was precisely what he was going to serve him tonight.

Nearly an hour later, Minho walked out with his dish in hand towards Chan who was busy on his phone. The said man immediately pocketed his phone the minute he saw Minho walking towards him.

“I apologize for the wait.” The chef placed the food on Chan’s table.

“Don’t worry about it. It was my fault for coming unannounced after all.” Chan raised his hand to dismiss Minho’s apology.

As always Minho waited till Chan took first bite. The minute the food touched his palate, the smile that graced Chan’s face was victory enough for Minho. Satisfied with Chan’s reaction he turned to make his way back to the kitchen only to be stopped by a hand clutching onto his wrist.

“Have you eaten yet?” Chan asked in a low voice.

Minho hesitantly turned to face him. The blush on his face was at this point unavoidable but under the dim lighting of the restaurant it wasn’t as noticeable. He thanked the heavens for the genius lighting.

Minho slowly shook his head in response. “No.”

Chan frown was immediate, but he quickly schooled his features to direct a heartstopping smile at Minho.

“Join me then.”

“I only made food for one.” Minho reasoned. 

This man wasn’t even here a few hours and was already giving his heart a healthy workout. 

Chan chuckled as he directed Minho to take a seat from across him. The boss then proceeded to place one of his chops onto Minho’s plate. 

“I don’t mind sharing.” He said. His voice low, teasing.

Minho gingerly took a bite of his food, the morsel immediately gratifying the pangs of hunger that he had ignored and dismissed for the sake of finishing the tasks he had at hand. A small smile graced his lips the second the food hit his tongue. It tasted so good, it surprised even him. No wonder Chan was obsessed with his cooking.

Minho looked up from his plate to find Chan staring at him. His heart stuttered to a stop. Chan’s gaze was alluring, incredibly sexy and very focused on Minho’s lips. Minho sucked in a sharp breath to try and diffuse some of the tension in his body. And then, as if the world suddenly moved in slow motion, he watched as Chan leaned across the table towards him. Closer, closer till he was merely a breath away. Minho, blinked up at him, his tongue darted out to lick his suspiciously dry lips in anticipation.

The corner of Chan’s mouth turned up in half a smile that melted Minho right there. The chef felt his heart beating loudly, the pounding of which resonated in his ears and he feared with how close Chan was to him, he could hear it too. 

Chan let out a soft chuckle as his hand reached up to tenderly cup the side of Minho’s face. The chef instinctively leaned into his hand. It was like an involuntary action. His gaze never left Chan’s own. The man’s thumb moved towards his bottom lip and Minho’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. His breath grew more laboured with every second that passed. 

The thumb gently rubbed against the corner of Minho’s mouth and before the chef could even register the movement, the hand was gone. 

Minho opened his eyes to a smirking Chan. He felt the flush creep up his cheeks. 

“There was a bit of food there.” Chan reasoned nonchalantly as if he didn’t just shift Minho’s entire world.

Minho coughed out his embarrassment. “Right. Food.”

Chan then reached out to place his hand over Minho’s.

“You never fail to impress me, Minho. You somehow always know what I’m in need of and deliver the comfort I need. I’m glad to have you as part of this restaurant.”

Minho’s heart twinged uncomfortably once again. Yes, the restaurant. Only the restaurant. He should have known. Why he thought they shared anything apart from that was beyond him..

“Anything to please the boss.” Minho donned his most professional smile

Chan’s face froze at that. A fake smile to match his own fake one. The owner nodded going back to his meal.

Minho quietly went back into the kitchen to resume his arduous task of counting the potatoes.

If he thought that meeting was a one-off he was sorely mistaken. Chan came back every night after that for a meal made especially by Minho’s hands. During the nights, he always arrived when all the staff had retired for the day. Chan let him experiment with whatever he wanted and always gave Minho the feedback he craved towards what could be improved and as a result a lot of signature dishes ended up on the menu this way.

One such night, while Minho waited for Chan to arrive like clockwork, he used the time to fill out the restaurant recipe book and begin prep. On nights such as these, Minho often liked to cook to music that he blasted through speakers conveniently placed all over the kitchen. He was so absorbed in his task, swaying his hips to the rhythm as he sliced vegetables that he did not notice the presence of another person in the kitchen. 

“Hi.” Chan tapped Minho’s shoulder lightly.

Minho yelped, startled. His hands automatically positioned the knife in a threatening manner in front of him in the case of danger.

Chan chuckled. “It’s me.” He watched Minho’s features relax.

“Would you mind putting the knife down though? I’m quite fond of my life at the moment.” 

Minho flushed, promptly putting the knife on his cutting board. His flush only deepened when he realized that Chan might have witnessed Minho shake his ass in the kitchen just moments before. 

“You’re here early.” Minho muttered without paying Chan much attention. He really did not want Chan to see how embarrassed and red he was.

Chan shrugged as leaned against the door with his shoulder. “I thought if I could get here early, I could watch you cook.”

"You want to watch me cook?” Minho asked incredulously. It still baffled him to think Chan was actually interested in what Minho did instead of just demanding service from him like an employer.

Chan nodded. “I figured it would make the food taste better knowing how much effort went into its making.”

Minho responded with a small smile. 

“Just watch?” The chef titled his head slightly. 

He watched Chan’s breath catch. “What are you offering?” He asked in low timbre.

Minho walked closer to Chan. “How about helping me cook instead of just watching?”

Chan’s answer was a blinding grin. “Where do I start?”

Minho chuckled at the enthusiasm. “Well, first, you have to put this on,” he said as held up an apron. “We don’t want your expensive clothes getting ruined, do we?”

Chan took the apron with a smile that showcased his dimple. A smile so endearing Minho couldn’t help but stare. Chan’s fingers ended up fumbling with the ties since the apron was kitchen grade.

“Here, let me.” Minho urged, walking close to the man.

Chan moved his hands away, giving Minho permission to do what he wanted. Minho took the ties in his hands and using the very ties, he pulled Chan even closer to him. Chan let out a surprised grunt. Minho's face was now inches away from Chan’s. His eyes locked with Chan’s as he put his arms around his boss to give the apron its first tie. Chan’s smile grew every time Minho pulled the tie tighter, his chest brushed against Minho’s own with every move. Minho’s hands slowed their ministration as their eyes caught in a longing stare. The hold they had felt like minutes spent lost in each other when in fact it was probably only eight seconds.

Chan moved his face close to Minho’s, their lips a mere breath away. Minho paused his handiwork in anticipation. His breath grew more labored. Chan gently placed a hand on the small of Minho’s back. Minho’s eyes fluttered closed as Chan’s hot breath washed over his lips. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” Chan rubbed his nose softly against Minho’s. “If you don’t want to or if you are uncomfortable,” Chan continued in a low husky tone, “now is your chance to run away.”

But Minho didn’t want to run away and so he stayed. His heart beat wildly in anticipation. 

Chan looked into Minho’s eyes one last time for confirmation before diving in head first into the meal before him. Chan’s lips were everything he thought they would be and but also not. He didn’t expect them to be so soft. It was like making out with a marshmallow, but a warm one and it definitely stirred up some warm feelings inside him with every lick, nip, bite he unleashed on his mouth. 

Minho moaned the minute Chan brought his hand to cup Minho’s face and deepen the kiss. Minho at this point didn’t want to stop. The feelings deep in his chest refused to even think of such an action. If they could keep kissing till the end of time, Minho would gladly welcome it. 

But all good things had to come to an end and in his case, the whistle on his pressure cooker had decided that enough was enough. Chan and Minho broke away from each other like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on them.

Minho quickly finished off tying Chan’s apron before briskly walking towards the cooking station. He then glanced over his shoulder at a still flustered Chan. 

“Come on, then. The food isn’t going to make itself.”

Nothing really changed after that incident. They neither acknowledged the kiss nor denied it or even kissed again. The cooking nights carried on as usual. If anything did change, it was the fact that Chan now spent more time in his kitchen watching him cook rather than out in the dining hall waiting for his food. 

He did visit during the times the restaurant was busy with handling rush orders but he never had a meal himself during those visits. Instead he helped the floor manager handle the large intake of customers and mingle with them whenever he deemed it important.

Minho often caught him looking at him when he was busy trying to manage the chaos of the kitchen. The gaze became even more apparent whenever he mingled with Jisung. 

Jisung must have felt the intensity of the looks on them because he cornered Minho late one afternoon.

“Do I need to look for another job?” Jisung asked while wiping down the counter. They had just finished serving the afternoon meal rush and were now preparing for dinner.

Minho stopped his stirring and threw a glance at Jisung. “What? What are you talking about?”

Jisung sighed, placing the cleaning rag on the counter before turning to Minho. “Well, it just seems like the boss hates me.”

Minho laughed. “Hates you? That’s ridiculous. He doesn’t hate you.”

“I’m serious! If looks could kill I would have been dead a hundred times over.”

Minho smiled. “Just a hundred?”

Jisung threw him a glare. “Har-har, very funny.”

Minho put the pot of soup he was stirring on a low simmer. “Why would he hate you though?”

“Beats me!” The young sous-chef exclaimed in exasperation. “I don’t even remember doing anything to piss the man off.”

Minho shrugged. “You don’t have to worry though. Chan won’t mess with my staff.”

Jisung’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, Chan is it? Since when have you been on a first name basis with him?”

Minho bit his lip, choosing to ignore the question. Jisung was aware of his miniature crush on their boss so it wasn’t surprising that he caught onto that specific detail but he wasn’t aware of the little make out session they shared that night in the kitchen. Minho hadn’t told him for several reasons. The first, it wasn’t really any of Jisung’s business. Minho was not one to kiss and tell. Second, he wasn’t exactly sure what the kiss meant for Chan or him. How could he tell someone about something of this significance if he wasn’t sure about it?

“Speaking off, you should come to the club with Jeongin and I this weekend.” Jisung stated casually while he resumed his task of cleaning the counter top.

Minho frowned. “No, thank you. You know that really isn’t my scene.”

“But you’re always cooped up in this place. You practically live here. It’s good to get some fresh air every once in a while.”

“Fresh air inside an underground crowded club filled with sweat fumes, smoke and god knows what else?” He mused playfully.

Jisung scoffed. “All right. I get your point. But still… you need a change of scenery. We can go dancing. I know how much you love to dance.”

Minho threw him a very unamused glance. Jisung responded by doing the unthinkable. He puffed out his already chubby cheeks and started shimming around in a cute manner or what Jisung thought was cute. To Minho it was completely and utterly disgusting. 

“Urgh, Jisung. No. Stop that.” Minho whined. 

“Please, Minho. Come on. Please.” Jisung’s shimmying intensified. 

Minho rolled his eyes, finally giving up. “Fine. I’ll come.”

Jisung squealed in delight, jumping to wrap Minho in a hug. Minho groaned at the sudden impact but didn’t make an attempt at refusing the hug. 

That evening Minho waited for Chan to arrive. He usually didn’t bother with it before because the kitchen kept him plenty occupied but tonight the nerves of telling Chan that he was not going to be at the restaurant tomorrow night kept him from getting any actual work done. He didn’t even know why he was so nervous about it. It’s not like Chan was going to eat him alive for not feeding him for one night. Neither was it the guilt that he was going to leave the owner starving for the night. Chan was a big boy. He could fend for himself. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was probably witnessing disappointment on Chan’s face. 

Yes, Minho was gifted and his talent knew no bounds but that didn’t mean he was exempt from societal pressures. In fact, one could say the pressure was more for him because he was gifted. Quite early on, Minho decided that the emotion he hated the most to witness on people was disappointment. Disappointment from his teachers at not doing what they wanted him to do, disappointment from his father for choosing to do culinary arts instead of becoming a lawyer or a doctor, disappointment from the customers because they didn’t like his food, and so on. It pushed him to work harder than what was required of him and as a result the faces of disappointment in front of him reduced. He thought of it like a video game. Each time he leveled up, his enemies kept getting weaker and weaker. 

But now, all of a sudden, his video game had a new boss. A boss he found quite difficult to even encounter. How Chan had risen to such a status in his life he had no idea but there he was. Quite honestly he really did not know where he stood with Chan. As the days went by the kiss seemed more like a one off than anything.

His nervousness prompted him to prepare Chan’s dish in advance. The menu tonight was going to be beef wellington, one of Chan’s favorites. As usual, the restaurant was empty save for him and the neatly set table in the dining hall.

The door jingled to signal Chan’s arrival. Minho’s breath hitched. He quickly sprinted to the porthole window on the kitchen door to look at his guest making his way to the kitchen like he usually did but Minho quickly wiped his nervous hands on his apron and walked out to intercept the man before he could enter the kitchen.

“Hi, Minho.” Chan greeted the chef warmly. If Chan was surprised by the sudden interception, he did not show. His face instead resonated delight.  His warm sultry voice sent calming waves to Minho’s high-strung mind.

“Hi, Chan.” Minho smiled in return. “I have your dish ready if you could wait a moment.”

Chan’s brows raised. “You have something ready for me already?”

Minho nodded. 

“Is there something special happening today? It’s not my birthday last time I checked.” Chan playfully scratched his head. 

Minho cracked a smile at the display. “No, it’s nothing special.”

Chan returned his smile with a blinding grin of his own. Minho had to almost squint to see because of how bright it was. 

Minho cleared his throat, focusing Chan’s attention on him. “I’ll be right back.”

Chan hummed in acknowledgement. “I’ll be here.” 

Minho quickly rushed to the kitchen and took out the beef wellington that was resting in the oven. He plated the dish up diligently and then left the kitchen to bring the dish out to Chan. Once he reached the table that the restaurant owner was sitting at he gently placed the plate in front of Chan. 

He heard Chan groan as soon as the aroma of the beef wellington invaded his senses. 

“Beef Wellington?” Chan asked, excited. 

Minho nodded with a smile. 

“Today just might have to be my birthday then.” Chan added with a laugh. He looked at Minho standing stoic next to him. 

“Minho, you have to join me today. I doubt you have eaten.”

Not wanting to argue, he quickly pulled a chair from the nearest table and sat opposite Chan.  Minho watched Chan’s fork cut and pick up a morsel of beef wellington after Chan had graciously served him a portion of his food. His eyes followed the fork as it lifted the food to Chan’s lips, touching them slighting on their way in. Chan then let out an almost pronographic moan as he chewed. Minho widen his eyes in surprise. The chef swallowed thickly. He felt his own mouth suddenly dry up. He wondered if it was Chan eating that made him so thirsty or something else entirely.

“Minho, this is so good.” Chan spoke in between bites. 

“Swallow your food first. You could choke and die.”

Chan chuckled. 

“Laughing is worse.” Minho muttered as he watched him eat.

“Oh, Minho. Never change, please.” Chan chuckled and then took another bite.

Minho watched Chan devour his food with a fond smile. One of the other reasons he didn’t mind this nightly routine of serving Chan food was because the man always ate his food with such gusto, it never failed to warm his heart. A small part of his mind wanted to never stop feeding him. 

“I do need to talk to you, Chan.” The Head Chef spoke once Chan finished his meal.

The restaurant owner nodded. “Okay, what do you need to talk about?”

“You’re gonna have to make different dinner plans tomorrow night.” 

Chan cocked a brow. “All right. Is there a reason? Is it just for tomorrow night or do you want this indefinitely?”’

Minho bit his lip. He thought he saw a brief glimpse of disappointment on Chan’s face but it was gone before Minho could ponder more on it. 

“No, not indefinitely, just tomorrow night.”

Chan smiled at that. Minho’s lips automatically stretched out into a smile reflecting Chan’s. The Head Chef cleared his throat to snap out of the daze the restaurant owner had put him in.

“I’m going out tomorrow night with Jisung to a club nearby.” Minho really didn’t need to supply this extra information but somehow, in front of Chan, he wanted to. 

Chan’s smile dropped. “Jisung?” He asked in a low voice. 

It was now Minho’s turn to cock his brow. Perhaps Jisung’s theory about Chan wasn’t unfounded. 

Chan’s eyes widened for a minute before he quickly clasped a palm over his mouth and then proceeded to violently cough into it. 

Minho grew very concerned. “Are you okay?”

Chan shook his head. “I’m fine.” he wheezed. “Don’t worry about me. You were saying?”

Minho quickly handed him a glass of water which Chan accepted and downed.

“Sorry about that. You were saying?” Chan rasped. His cough clearly did a number on his throat.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Chan waved his hand. “I’m fine. I just choked for a second there.”

“Will you be all right for tomorrow night?” Minho asked.

“It should be fine. I mean, I think I can survive a night without your company. Although, your presence has become my favorite part of the day lately.”

Minho blushed as his treacherous heart skipped a beat. The twinge of discomfort he felt in his chest whenever he thought of Chan subsided whenever the man did things like this. He had no idea what any of it meant and quite honestly it was terrifying to find out.

Jisung sat on Minho’s bed munching on potato crisps while he watched his boyfriend, Jeongin treat Minho like a mannequin. 

Minho threw him a glare. “You get any of the crisp dust on my bed, I wring your intestines out to dry to use for tomorrow’s soup.”

Jisung immediately stopped munching. He then looked at his boyfriend and whined. 

“Baby, look what the bad man said. He said he’s going to cook my intestines.”

Jeongin scoffed while he held two tops out against Minho. “Don’t involve me in your cannibalistic fantasies.”

Jisung pouted. He wrapped his arms around Jeongin from behind and placed his chin on Jeongin’s shoulder. Jeongin giggled at the sudden contact.

Minho’s face morphed into disgust. “I have a spare room, you know, so please refrain from being mushy in front of my face.” 

Jisung blew a raspberry at him, knowing he didn’t mean what he said seriously. 

Jeongin turned his head to place a soft kiss on Jisung’s cheek before finally looking at Minho. 

“I think I have the perfect outfit in mind for you.”

Thirty minutes later they were out of the house and on their way to the club a block or so away from the restaurant. 

The club was packed as was custom for a Saturday night. Minho grimaced as he squeezed his way to decent seating. The club they had entered was one of the popular ones in their region which explained the crowd. But it was also one of those high end clubs that had a VIP section. Minho more or less had a clear view of that section from the seats he had managed to score.

Jeongin and Jisung had made their way towards the bar the minute they had arrived which ensured they had seats as soon as they got drinks.

Jisung clamored noisily into the booth Minho had secured with the Head Chef’s drink of choice. 

“Oh, my God, Minho. You will not believe who I saw at this club while I braved my way through the jungle of sweaty grinding bodies to get your drink to you.”

Minho rolled his eyes at the exaggerated remark. “Who did you see?”

“Bang Chan.”

Minho tensed. Chan was here? He reflexively searched the club for his boss.

“He’s not alone, though.”

Minho looked at Jisung.

“He’s with the same blonde man I told you about the other day.” 

Minho’s heart dropped. 

What were the odds that the very night he chose to stop thinking about his turbulent feelings was the night Chan graced the club he chose to attend with his presence. The kiss from that night in the kitchen replayed in his mind like it was yesterday. It was probably just in his head. Chan was dignified, sophisticated and his social circles didn’t match with Minho’s at all. He could have anyone in the world and surround himself with all the models he could want. So, Minho was probably just a passing fling for him.

“That’s Hwang Hyunjin, baby.” Jeongin added in. “He’s a really famous model here in the city. He even has his own fashion line.”

Minho’s heart plummeted further. The uncomfortable twinge in his chest was back and much worse this time. Minho gently rubbed at his chest to ease some of the discomfort. 

It made sense Chan was with someone like Hwang Hyunjin. With a model of his caliber around, why would Chan ever be interested in him? It was a preposterous thought.

Minho quickly downed the drink Jisung had gotten for him much to sous-chef’s surprise and then got up to leave to hunt for more.

“I need more. I’ll be at the bar.” He made sure to inform his company before he set off.

This time around, Minho didn’t even notice the crowd when he reached the bar counter. He made quick work of ordering a round of shots and then proceeded to down them all in quick succession. To say the alcohol definitely hit was an understatement.

Minho giggled as he made his way to the dance floor, his body automatically moving in tandem to the music blasting in the club. As he danced he noticed a couple of stares sent his way. He thrived in the attention. His body was now lost to the rhythm of the music. That’s when he noticed a particular hungry stare sent his way. Minho opened his eyes and saw Chan watching his every move despite having a very beautiful blonde man in his arms on the other side of the dance floor. 

Minho laughed bitterly as Chan frowned. 

He suddenly felt an arm around his waist. His fist instinctively raised to punch whoever dared to lay a hand on him. 

“Hey, whoa, whoa, it’s me. Jisung.” The sous-chef quickly supplied. 

Minho relaxed in his hold. He brought his arms around Jisung’s shoulders, swaying the both of them gently to the music.

“Dance with me?” Minho puffed his cheeks cutely. 

Jisung laughed, quite familiar with drunk Minho’s antics. “You’re drunk.”

“Noooo.” Minho pouted, “I just had some happy juice.” He then brought his forefinger and thumb together quite close to prove to Jisung how much he had consumed. 

“A little too much happy juice, if you ask me.”

“You’re the one that’s always harping on about succumbing to the happy juice and letting loose and having fun. That is exactly what I’m doing.”

Jisung paused to look at Minho for a solid minute before sighing. “Fine, you’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s dance.” 

Minho cheered. His arms around Jisung tightening as they twirled and grooved on the dance floor.

Just as Jisung twirled them around one more time Minho realized that they were now dancing right opposite Chan and Hwang Hyunjin. Jisung had his back to Chan which meant that Minho was in his direct line of sight.

Minho took a deep breath as the light around him dimmed. A second breath brought out a spotlight focused on Chan and him. The music lulled to a dull beat and with every sway of their bodies their lingering gazes on each other intensified. It was like the people around them faded away and they were the only two on the dance floor, mere feet away from being in each other’s arms. So close yet so far. 

He wondered if it was just him who felt a pull this strong. If it was only him who saw Chan as the only light in this dark world? Minho’s eyes widened as the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

He was in love with him. 

Somehow amongst the turmoil that was managing the restaurant and nights the chef spent experimenting and cooking for his boss, and the kiss, those uncomfortable feelings that had taken root deep within his being had blossomed into an emotion Minho had never felt before. Minho was in love with Chan.

The chef staggered from the weight of the emotion. He looked up at Chan from across him and let out another shuddering breath, Chan’s eyes now displayed an emotion Minho could not decipher, his gaze never left Minho’s own.

But their little bubble did not last for long. 

Minho watched as Hwang Hyunjin reached up to grab onto Chan and kiss him on the cheek before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

Minho winced as a stabbing pain ripped through his chest. The pain was so intense Minho almost doubled over, his legs completely giving out. He would have fallen if it wasn’t for Jisung’s hold on him. The discomfort he had long buried had now evolved into something he could not avoid. 

“Fuck, Minho, are you okay?” Jisung called out, but his voice just echoed through to Minho as he struggled to keep his bearings in his drunken pain filled state.

“Bathroom.” Minho choked out.

“What?” Jisung echoed again.

“I think… gonna throw up.” Minho grunted out in pain.

“Fuck, bathroom. Gotcha. Hang in there.” Jisung reassured while held onto Minho and helped him to the bathroom. 

As he watched Minho’s figure retreat from the dance floor in Jisung’s arms and blend in with the bodies that littered the club, Bang Chan winced in pain as a violent cough overtook him. He pulled away his hand to reveal a lone pink petal.

Minho stumbled into the dinghy club washroom with Jisung’s help. 

“We’re here, Minho. Do you need me to take you to a cubicle?” Jisung tightened his grip on a grunting Minho.

“No time.” Minho wheezed as another violent cough raked through his body. He managed to get Jisung to maneuver him to the nearest sink, spillage be damned. 

Minho let out a moan of pain that morphed into a cough, the most violent one yet. 

When the cough subsided, he pulled his hand away from his mouth to splash a bit of water on his face.

“Fuck.” Jisung gasped.

Minho gave him a look of confusion.

“Minho, what the fuck is that?” Jisung pointed to Minho’s hand in alarming concern.

Minho turned to look at his hand and that’s when he saw it. He felt the blood drain from his body and a cold chill settled in. In his hand was a lone pink petal. A pink Camellia. The flower for longing.

“Is that what I think it is?” Jisung asked as he came closer to get a better look at the petal. His tone leaked worry.

Minho gulped loudly, untrusting of his mouth. 

“You know what this means right?” Jisung asked Minho softly. 

Minho felt his eyes fill with tears. He sniffled as he nodded. Of course he knew what it meant. He had the Hanahaki disease. The disease of unrequited love. The disease of a broken heart.

Jisung pulled Minho into a tight hug as he broke down into quiet sobs. 

“We’re gonna get through this, Minho. Trust me.” Jisung whispered as he tightened his hold on Minho.

Minho wanted to believe him, but even he knew it was a lost cause. The Hanahaki disease was a death sentence. A sentence only resolved if one’s love was returned verbally. And in Minho’s case, his love was never going to be returned.

“Take me home, Ji… I want to go home.” Minho sniffled into Jisung’s shirt.

The doctor had confirmed in the days following the clubbing incident what they all already knew. It was indeed the Hanahaki disease and Minho was a stage away from it killing him. Minho’s X-Ray showed that the roots of the pink Camellia had already had a firm grasp around his heart. 

The Hanahaki disease, dubbed the disease of longing and the broken heart was caused by unrequited love that accounted for a significant amount of deaths every year despite being quite rare. The disease started out as an innocent seed of love that grew and grew as the love for the person grew. When signs of it being unrequited subtly started emerging was when the roots started taking it’s final place around the person’s heart while the blooms occupied their place in the person’s lungs. The blooms in the lungs were the reason the person coughed out petals. The first most significant symptom of contracting the Hanahaki disease. The roots then squeezed the heart the more unrequited the person’s love got untill the only cure was a verbal confession from the person to whom the love was directed to in the first place. If the person failed to make their love requited the roots would crush their heart to such an extent that they would die from heart failure.

The other option of course was surgery, but this option came with a price that was sometimes too large to pay. Surgical removal of the roots resulted in the permanent removal of romantic feelings in the person for the rest of their life.

Jeongin and Jisung were beside themselves. They desperately urged Minho to get the surgery, fearing the loss of their friend but Minho refused. Yes, he was young, yes, he had his whole life ahead of him to live for and yes, he had his career waiting for him, but the surgery would remove his ability to love. And even though he was dubbed heartless by his junior chefs in the kitchen, he did have a heart and that heart only recently learnt how the emotion of love felt. He quickly decided he wasn’t ready to live a life without experiencing such an emotion again.

Minho decided to carry on with work as much as he could. It helped him to not think about Chan, and when he was absorbed in the bustle of the kitchen, the handsome restaurant owner barely crossed his mind. The pain was less when he didn’t think about him.

But at night, in the sanctity of his dark room, he let his mind run wild. His mind replayed their kiss, that night at the club and almost every dinner night they had together. And with every resurfaced memory the pain grew ever present knowing that it would not meet retribution.

Chan didn’t show up to their dinners anymore. He should have expected it, but it still hurt regardless. He was after all nothing to Chan. Every night Minho waited a little after closing and every night he left alone instead of being dropped home by Chan like he usually did. 

It was now almost two weeks after that night at the club where he coughed out his first petal. The petals were more in number when he coughed now, sometimes whole flowers. He would have definitely appreciated the flower’s beauty if not for his circumstance.

Minho was once again alone in the kitchen counting the inventory they had left after a day’s business and made notes of the items they had to reorder when he heard the tell tale creak of the kitchen doors opening.

“Jisung, if you’re coming in to check if I’m alive, I assure you I am.” Minho called out from the back room.

“Um, I’m not Jisung.” A familiar voice responded. 

Minho froze. He knew that voice. He could recognise that voice anywhere.

Bang Chan.

Minho had never moved faster in his life. The pain in his chest was back but somehow he didn’t feel like he was going to cough out an organ.

“You’re not.” Minho agreed, still a bit breathless from his sudden movement.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Chan chuckled awkwardly. His laugh sounded hollow to Minho. A sound devoid of emotion, a sound Minho decided he hated.

“What are you doing here, Chan? You don’t look very good.”

 And it was true. Unlike his usual immaculate appearance, Chan looked quite haggard tonight. His dark circles were prominent and his skin was pale and sickly instead of his bright flushed skin.

Chan nervously scratched across his shoulder. 

“That’s what I’m here for actually. Minho, I’m heading back to Australia.”

Minho’s eyes widened as surprise washed over him.

“I’m kinda sick and I think it’s best if I get treated for it in Australia. So, I’ve come to say goodbye.”

The pain, now familiar, twisted and tore through Minho’s chest. The love of his life was going to leave him and he was going to die here because he let him.

“Don’t.” Minho breathed.

Chan froze. “What?”

“Don’t go.”

“I have to, Minho.” Chan choked out, his eyes did nothing to hide his inner turmoil. “I can’t stay here.”

A loud ring echoed through the empty kitchen. It was Minho’s phone. He pulled out his phone to look at the caller ID.

“Jisung.” He mouthed to Chan.

Chan’s expression immediately morphed into one of pain. A familiar sort of pain. Minho was tempted to not answer the call and continue where they left off, but ever since Jeongin and Jisung were privy to his Hanahaki disease, Jisung made it a point to call him every night before he went to bed and every morning to make sure the man was alive and breathing. If he didn’t answer the call Jisung was surely going to send emergency services to his house and he didn’t want that.

“Hello, Jisung?” He spoke into the phone. “Yeah, I’m all right. No, I’m not home yet. I’m at the restaurant. What am I doing?” He paused to cast a glance at Chan who seemed to be clutching his chest in tremendous pain.

"Something came up at work. No, I’ll be home soon, don’t worry. Bye, Jisung. Give Jeongin a good night from me too.” Minho ended the call in time to witness Chan nearly cough his lung out. 

Minho immediately rushed to his aid. He patted his back gently like how Jisung did for him when he had one of his violent coughing fits. 

That’s when he saw it. Pink Camellia petals. Just like the ones Minho coughed out. Realization washed over him. Chan’s sickly gait, his pale complexion, it all made sense now. Chan had the Hanahaki disease. Just like him.

“Hanahaki.” Minho breathed out in shock. “But why?” 

Chan let out a painful laugh. “Isn't it because my love is unrequited? That’s how this worked right? Unrequited love?”

“But it doesn’t make sense? Your love can’t be unrequited. I’m sure Mr. Hwang feels the same for you as you do for him.”

Chan looked at him in disbelief. “What? What are you talking about?”

Minho gave him an incredulous look. “About you being in love with Mr. Hwang and Mr. Hwang being smitten with you.”

“Mr. Hwang? Who even—? Wait, Hyunjin? You’re talking about Hyunjin?”

Minho responded with a hesitant nod. 

“Fuck, Minho.” Chan released a sigh of relief.

“What? Isn’t that why you have the Hanahaki disease? Because you think Mr. Hwang doesn’t return your feelings?”

“I'm not in love with Hyunjin, Minho. Hyunjin is married to one of my best friends.”

“Then why are you coughing out flowers? It doesn’t make sense.”

Chan sighed. Waves of frustration left his body. His mouth opened every time he wanted to speak but the words didn’t come out. It looked like Chan was having an inner battle of his own. Chan sighed once again, finally making his decision.

“It’s not Hyunjin I’m in love with, Minho. It’s you.”

If Minho’s jaw could have hit the ground in shock at that moment it would have.

“What?” 

“I’m in love with you, Minho. So much that it is literally killing me. And I know you will never feel the same because you have Jisung and I know it is really selfish of me but I need to ask you this before I leave so that I can finally make peace with my fate and let the disease take its toll.”

Chan then took on of Minho’s hands in his own. “Pick me, Minho. I know you felt the sparks I’ve felt during our dinner nights. I know you felt that connection that night at the club like I did. We’re meant to be, Minho, can’t you see? Deep down in my heart, I know you belong with me. I will shower you with all the love I have for the rest of my days. So, pick me.”

Minho choked out a sob. The second words of confession left Chan’s mouth, he felt the pain in his chest dull away to non-existence. The root fibers that had grabbed hold of his heart like a prisoner on death row had slowly disintegrated with every word of affection Chan showered on him. The unbearable discomfort he had felt the past weeks eased away and brought with it relief, tremendous relief. Days of pain and the fear of death finally caught up to him as his floodgates burst. 

“Oh, we are so stupid.” He cried.

Chan instinctively moved toward Minho the minute he saw tears. “Minho, why are you crying?”

“Because we are stupid, Chan. You and I. We are the definition of idiots.”

Chan hesitated. “I don’t understand.”

Minho looked at him with his tear stained eyes. “I have Hanahaki too.”

Chan tensed up. “But Jisung, I’m sure— No, I was sure.”

Minho shook his head in disagreement. “I’m not in love with Jisung.” He sniffled. “He’s only a friend. In fact, he is in a really happy relationship with his boyfriend, Jeongin.”

“Then who are you in love with? Who is it that hasn’t returned your feelings?” Chan voiced as his tone grew concerned.

A wet laugh echoed through the empty kitchen. 

“You.” Minho sobbed.

“I’m in love with you, Chan.” He stepped closer to Chan. 

“So much so that it is literally killing me.” He said echoing Chan’s confession from earlier, his body now mere inches away from the other man.

Chan laughed heartily for the first time since he entered the restaurant that night. His eyes blinked rapidly to keep away the tears that threatened to spill. The man cupped Minho’s face tenderly, bringing their faces ever closer.

“We really are idiots, aren’t we?” Chan asked brokenly. His eyes were awash with a multitude of emotions that Minho had a hard time deciphering them all.

Minho wrapped his arms around Chan’s waist as tightly as he could. The sudden realization that he could have lost the love of his life in a matter of months dawned on him, and his body shuddered in fear. Chan placed tender kisses all over Minho’s face. He must have realized how terribly this could have all gone if none of them had confessed. How they could have died of the Hanahaki disease if neither of them confessed. How in a span of months, the both of them would have ceased to exist since they both refused to have the invasive plant surgically removed.

“We’re idiots in love.” Minho said as he leaned forward to kiss the man who made literal flowers bloom in his chest, the love of his life, Bang Chan.

The End.