Archive of Our Own ^beta

“What,” Chairman Lee huffs, looking between the two of them with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You two are dating, aren’t you? That’s why Minho won’t go on any of these blind dates?”

Before Minho can respond to that, Seungmin cuts in. “With all due respect, Chairman, I’m not gay.” His gaze flicks over to Minho, and Minho catches just the faintest glint of mirth in his eyes before Seungmin opens his big mouth again. “And if I was, the president would not be my type at all.”

“Why did you lie?” asks Minho, once his grandfather has left the room, although not before grumbling at Seungmin to fill Minho’s schedule up with as many blind dates as humanly possible. “Don’t think I forgot about that boyfriend you had when we were in university.”

“Don’t be so close-minded,” his secretary says innocently, blinking round puppy eyes at him. “There’s more than just straight or gay.”

Minho cuffs him on the shoulder. “Smart ass.”

“This is workplace harassment,” says Seungmin, rubbing his shoulder, but he still has that impish little grin on his face. Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, looking out his floor-to-ceiling windows and resisting the urge to throw himself out of them. “Anyways, your first blind date is scheduled for this evening. Roh Jisun of Promise Group.”

“Cancel it.”

“Unfortunately I cannot.”

Minho looks over his shoulder to glare at him. Judging by how unfazed Seungmin is, it must be coming off squinty. It’s a bit bright in the room right now; his grandfather always likes to turn the lights all the way up even if there’s daylight coming in through the windows. “Kim Seungmin.”

Seungmin pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “The driver will be here at six. Please do your best to finish up all your meetings by then, Lee Minho-sajangnim. It wouldn’t be good to leave a bad impression on your date by being late.”

Minho’s first blind date ends with a waiter accidentally tipping an entire pitcher of an unidentified “House Special” cocktail over his head. “How much do you want to bet that she paid off the waiter,” he grumbles. “It’s not like I want to be here any more than she does.”

“She did smile at him quite widely,” Seungmin agrees, folding Minho’s jacket aside and helping him into the cardigan that he’d just happened to bring along. Minho sniffs at it as subtly as he can. It reeks of Seungmin’s cologne, the individual floral notes coming through even with the smell of alcohol. Does the man drench all his clothes in the stuff?

“What,” he says, turning over his shoulder to look at Seungmin. “Were you watching from the car? I thought you left.”

“It’s my job.”

“You’re my secretary,” Minho reminds him. “Not my bodyguard.”

“The chairman wants updates,” Seungmin says simply.

Minho scoffs. “Chairman this, chairman that. I’m your boss, you know.”

Seungmin remains expressionless. “The chairman is the one who signs my paychecks.”

Minho curses under his breath. It’s hard to argue with that logic. “Let’s just go.”

“To the office?” asks Seungmin. “Or…”

“Home,” says Minho, wrapping the cardigan around himself. It’s been a long day. “Let’s go home.”

Home, for the two of them, is actually two different places. But when Minho gives the address to Seungmin’s apartment to the driver and tells him to head there straight away, Seungmin doesn’t fight it.

Two hours later, Minho flops onto Seungmin’s couch and lets out a deep sigh. The apartment is so clean he can see his reflection in the hardwood flooring and there’s a full three-course meal laid out on the table. The clink of chopsticks against ceramic echoes in the tiled cavern of the little kitchen.

“Do you feel better now?” asks Seungmin, mumbling through a mouthful of food. “What is this, by the way? It’s good.”

“New recipe I’ve been testing.”

Seungmin hums. “Don’t turn it into a product or anything. It’ll sell too well.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t understand how business works.”

“You think too much about profit margin, sajangnim,” says Seungmin. “Sometimes good things should be kept for yourself.”

Minho throws a hand over his face. The lightbulbs in the ceiling are much too bright. Seungmin should try investing in a standing lamp instead. “My secretary is exhibiting an astonishing lack of financial acumen right now,” he says to the ceiling. “What do I do? I think I should fire him.”

“You’ve been saying that for years now, but you still haven’t done it yet.”

“Out of the kindness and generosity of my heart, which is not unlimited,” Minho replies. “Kim Seungmin, you are a severe drain on my resources. One of these days, I’m going to run out.”

“I’ll anticipate it,” Seungmin agrees. “Before that happens, though, you should eat something. You can’t fire people on an empty stomach.”

“Remind me who I’m meeting again?”

“Lee Yeoreum of Cosmic Group,” says Seungmin.

“Okay,” Minho cuts in, before Seungmin can start rattling off all her accomplishments and company achievements. “And remind me why we’re meeting at a basketball court.”

They’re currently parked outside a neighborhood park, Minho’s sleek black BMW sedan sticking out like a sore thumb among all the colorful Hyundai family SUVs. Seungmin’s dressed in a hoodie and basketball shorts, clearly having gotten the memo without passing it on. Minho pulls at the collar of his pressed shirt, already feeling the sweat starting to bead at his nape.

“It was at the request of the other party,” Seungmin says coolly, opening Minho’s door for him. When he locks the car instead of getting back inside, Minho raises an eyebrow at him. “I have an appointment here as well.”

“With who?”

Seungmin gestures to the little kids clinging onto the fence at the baseball diamond a few paces off, who cheer and holler when he waves at them. “I’ve been helping them with their pitching. Today we’re doing curveballs. Good luck on your date, hyung.”

Minho shakes his head as Seungmin runs off. Jack of all trades, he supposes. With much reluctance and trepidation, he steps a perfectly shined loafer onto the court. There are two girls that get up from their bench upon seeing him. The shorter one of the two is dressed in date-appropriate attire, but the taller is in a t-shirt and running shorts and—wait, why are there two of them?

“Lee Yeoreum?” asks Minho, looking between the two of them.

“That’s me,” says the girl in the dress. “You must be Lee Minho?”

“Yes,” says Minho. “Um.”

“Oh,” says Yeoreum, catching his stray glance. “Um, this is Son Juyeon. My—“

“Bodyguard,” Juyeon cuts in.

“My unnie from university,” Yeoreum finishes, flushing red. “Sorry, I don’t know why she’s here.”

“To defend your honor,” says Juyeon, hands on her hips. “Lee Minho!” She points a finger at him. “I challenge you!”

“To what?” says Minho, equal parts weary and alarmed.

“For a chance at our Yeoreumie’s hand in marriage, you must defeat me in a game of basketball!” she declares, bouncing the basketball at him. Minho catches it in his stomach, nearly falling over from the recoil.

“Unnie, you’re embarrassing me,” says Yeoreum, elbowing Juyeon in the side, but she looks secretly pleased. Yeah, Minho knows all about girls who have crushes on their unnies from university. “Sorry, Minho-ssi, you really don’t have to.”

Minho would rather lay in a pool face down for three hours than play basketball to win anyone’s hand, not even Jeong Eunji from Apink. Still, even if Lee Yeoreum isn’t the one—which she definitely isn’t, if Son Juyeon and Minho’s basketball skills have anything to say about it—Cosmic Group is an important business partner for them, and it would serve him well to maintain a cordial, if not friendly, working relationship.

“It’s fine,” says Minho, wheezing. “Let’s play.”

Juyeon quickly racks up a dozen points against Minho’s goose egg, running circles around him. Minho flails uselessly for the ball and slaps himself more often than not in his attempts to knock it out of her hands. He can only hope the sweat stains in his armpits aren’t that visible.

The score is now 56 to 4, and Minho’s sure Juyeon had let him have those two shots out of pity. Minho hunches over, resting his palms on his thighs, and sucks in lungfuls of air. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Seungmin approaching, looking decidedly worse for wear but all the happier for it. He looks good like this, Minho realizes. It’s not even the casual athletic wear as opposed to his usual business formal, but out in the sun he’s gotten all dirty and grubby and he looks softer. Realer. More like the kid that Minho met all those years ago than the composed, well-spoken businessman he’s grown into now.

“Minho-ssi, watch out!”

Minho turns his head just in time to receive the ball with his face.

He stumbles backwards, head ringing from the impact. The ball falls to the ground with a thump. He’s pretty sure he felt something crack. A few seconds later, something wet drips down his chin.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” says Juyeon. Yeoreum frantically plies him with tissues from her purse, whispering a string of expletives under her breath and adding to Juyeon’s apologies in turn. Minho isn’t looking at either of them, though.

Meters away, Seungmin doubles over and laughs so hard that Minho can see the tears sliding down his face, glistening in the sunlight.

“Sorry about that,” says Seungmin, trying his best to actually sound sorry—though if Minho looks away for a second, he’ll start laughing quietly to himself again. “I wouldn’t have agreed to the venue if I’d known this would happen.”

“It’s fine,” says Minho. He tilts his head up obediently when Seungmin lifts his chin with gentle fingers, wiping away the blood that had traveled down his neck. His shirt is definitely stained, but it’s nothing a little bleach can’t solve. “They’re in my debt now, so it works out.”

“Sometimes I think you’re too business-minded, hyung,” Seungmin comments, working diligently at his jaw. “What about your face?”

“You said my nose isn’t broken, right?”

“As far as I can tell, no.”

“Then it’s fine,” says Minho, scowling. He regrets it when a bolt of pain shoots up his nose. “It was an accident, anyways.”

Seungmin clicks his tongue in displeasure. “You should take better care of yourself,” he says, dabbing harder at Minho’s face.

Minho catches him by the wrist. “But isn’t that what I have you for?”

“What is this?” asks Minho, barging into his office. “And get out of my chair.”

“Ask a bit more nicely and maybe I’ll consider it,” says Seungmin, spinning around in Minho’s expensive swivel chair. He’s probably messed with the height too, the bastard. “And you have too much faith in my vision if you think I can read whatever it is you’re holding from here.”

“What did we get that LASIK together for, then?”

“It’s modern technology, not a miracle worker.”

“See if I ever pay for your medical operations again.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. If only I had something like company-sponsored health insurance.”

Minho can’t even say anything about that, because he was the one who just signed off on increased maternity leave. Damn Kim Seungmin. He flaps the envelope in front of Seungmin’s face instead. “This.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” says Seungmin. “I’ve already responded on your behalf.”

“The plus one,” says Minho.

“Yes.”

“Please tell me it’s optional.”

“I cannot tell a lie.”

“Kim Seungmin, I swear to God,” he says, pointing his finger into Seungmin’s face, “if you used my high school reunion as a way to set me up on another blind date, you will not live to use any more of your company-sponsored health insurance.”

“Charming,” says Seungmin. “I’m sure she’ll love how much of a gentleman you are.”

Minho sends a despairing glance out the window, wondering if this is the day he’ll finally create the vacuum of power in the GoFood corporate hierarchy that his grandfather’s always worried about. Annoyingly, Seungmin follows his line of sight and immediately pulls the blinds shut like he knows exactly what Minho’s thinking, which has a 92.2% chance of being true. So he’s probably wrong anyways.

“It’ll be fine, hyung,” says Seungmin. “Trust me for once in your life, will you?”

“Oh,” says Minho. He would say something like ‘thank fuck,’ but that would be giving Seungmin too much credit.

Minju laughs, one hand over her mouth as her eyes curve into crescents. “I haven’t seen you in ages, and the first thing you say to me is ‘oh?’”

He offers her his arm as they prepare to go around and greet their horrible schoolmates—from his year, because she was two grades below—and hear about all the successful things they’ve accomplished in the past ten years. “What’s our story, then?” Minho asks. “I’m personally a fan of acting like we’re on the verge of a divorce.”

“You would give it away so quickly, oppa,” Minju says kindly.

“Would not.”

“Would too. I think Jungwoo-oppa is here too. You’d laugh as soon as you saw him.”

Unfortunately, he can’t deny that. “What if I’m actually my own evil twin?”

“There was a drama like that last year, I think.”

“I could play a really toxic boyfriend if I tried.”

“How about we just say we’re very good friends.”

“Minju-yah, that’s so boring,” Minho groans, but doesn’t argue further. “It’s ‘cause that dance club unnie would be jealous, isn’t it?”

“Stop it,” Minju laughs, cheeks pinking. “You know I made Seungmin-ssi ask her when he called to ask me if I’d come with you tonight. She wasn’t very happy about it.”

Minho sends up a silent prayer in thanks for Kim Chaewon. So much could’ve gone wrong otherwise. “Please let her know I’m grateful for her sacrifice.”

Minju rolls her eyes. “I was confused why he went through all the trouble of asking me. I thought he would’ve just gone with you himself.”

Minho makes a face. “Why would I want him to come?”

Minju shrugs. “Well, aren’t you two always together anyways?”

When Minho gets home, Kim Seungmin is sitting on the floor in his living room and trying to get the attention of his cats, who are in placid, immobile piles around him. He still thinks they don’t like him, which is patently untrue. If they didn’t like him, they would’ve scratched his face off long ago. But Kim Seungmin’s face is still intact, which is about as good as it gets.

“Can I get a break,” says Minho, kicking off his shoes. “I see you at work and now I have to see you at home too?”

Seungmin doesn’t even look up, focused on scratching Soonie behind the ears. “Your grandfather’s meeting ran late. He asked me to check on you.”

“Lying is a sin, Kim Seungmin.”

“Fine. I’m spending my every waking moment trying to make your cats like me better than you,” says Seungmin, the curve of his mouth sloping down into a pout. “But I don’t think it’s working.”

Minho crouches down, making soft clicking noises. Doongie and Dori come running, butting their heads into his hand. “Hi, my babies. Did you have a good day? Hyung missed you.”

Seungmin’s mouth drops open comically wide. Minho can’t help but laugh.

“They know you’re a dog person.”

“I like all animals,” Seungmin protests.

“It’s because you pretend to only have a slight preference that they distrust you. If you only liked dogs, then they’d respect that, but they see right through your illusion of neutrality.”

“It’s not an illusion,” Seungmin says, petulant. “I really do like all animals.”

Soonie, who’d been patiently letting Seungmin toy with the hairs on his scruff, noses at Seungmin’s hand then, rubbing his cheek against the backs of his knuckles and letting out a contented purr. Seungmin’s smile stretches across his face, beaming like he’d just witnessed the second coming of Christ. He keeps looking between Soonie and Minho, as if to say, did you see? Did you see that?

Minho gets up abruptly, turning away so that the only witness to the twitching of his mouth is the pot bubbling on the stove. He blinks. “Did you cook?”

“It’s just juk,” says Seungmin. “I tried to follow your recipe, but I don’t know how good it is. It should be done now if you want to try.”

Witness to many of Seungmin’s less-than-successful cooking attempts, Minho lifts the lid with great caution, peering through the steam. He fishes a spoon out of the drawer and dips it straight into the porridge.

Doongie and Dori must have ambled back over in his absence, because Seungmin lets out a delighted noise, mumbling soft platitudes to them. Minho almost wants to turn around just to see the look on his face. Instead he sticks the spoon in his mouth. The light, comforting flavor warms the insides of his mouth and slides down easily. It tastes just like how Minho taught him to make it, just like how his mother taught him.

Seungmin wanted to be a veterinarian, actually. Back in university he studied veterinary science, and was just about to take his license exam when Minho’s parents passed away in an accident and Minho was catapulted to the top of the corporate pyramid before he could even shed a tear. He pivoted career paths without a word, slipping seamlessly into the role of Minho’s secretary like he’d been training for it his whole life. On the days where it felt like someone was taking a seam ripper to his edges and pulling Minho’s life apart stitch by stitch, Seungmin was there, patching it back together.

Minho will never, ever admit it, not even on his deathbed. But the truth is that as sorry as he is to Seungmin, he’s even more grateful.

“Hyung? How is it?”

“It’s fine,” says Minho. He takes another bite. “Thank you.”

Remember Kim Seungmin’s ex-boyfriend from university? The one Minho mentioned earlier? Yeah, well, unfortunately Minho hasn’t managed to forget him either. That’s why—

Wait, okay. Let’s set up the scene first. Imagine you are Lee Minho, President of GoFood—you will never be, but just imagine—and you have been so busy with nonstop meetings and business trips and filmings and interviews and everyone and their mother coming to you with a problem that when your secretary tells you you’re going on another blind date, you grumble and complain and threaten to fire him but ultimately you don’t question it. You’re just too busy. And so, even though you are normally as quick and sharp as a knife, it just happens to slip under your radar this one time. “It” being the fact that your secretary hasn’t told you anything about who you’re meeting. You’ve done so many of these blind dates that one more can’t really hurt. Whoever it is, they can’t be that bad. And you’d be right, in most cases.

But, as Minho is quickly realizing, sitting across the table from a very tired Hwang Yeji and a very overexcited Hwang Hyunjin, in this case he was very, very wrong.

“I’m really sorry, sunbaenim,” says Yeji, weary. “I tried to get him not to come, but he followed me here on his own.”

“Like a dog,” Minho says dryly.

“Hi, hyung!” says Hyunjin. “Long time no see!”

“It has been a long time,” Minho agrees. “I wish it had been longer.”

Yeji looks alarmed. Hyunjin only laughs it off. “Oh, Minho-hyung. You’re the same as always, you know.”

“It’s true, I do age gracefully.”

Even though the date was ruined from the start, it still goes well as a meet up between old friends. Minho likes the Hwang twins, actually. Likes them a lot. Or ‘liked,’ in one particular twin’s case. Yeji is still as charming as ever. Hyunjin is also still as charming as ever, practically the same as he was when he was Minho’s favorite junior in dance club. Nothing changed. There’s nothing wrong with him. It’s only Minho who starts to get irritated if he thinks about the name Hwang Hyunjin, especially in conjunction with—

“Seungmin!” cries Hyunjin, running to envelop Minho’s secretary in a full-body hug.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” Seungmin says placidly, patting Hyunjin on the head. “You look well.”

“You two don’t look awkward at all,” Minho observes.

“Oh, don’t worry,” says Hyunjin. “It took a while, but I got over the heartbreak. We’re good now. Still get coffee every Tuesday to shit talk people at work.”

Minho listens to practically none of that. “He broke your heart?” he asks, eyes narrowed. “I thought you dumped him.”

Hyunjin stares at him in what Minho can only code as surprise before breaking into laughter. “Is that what you told him, Seungmin?”

“It’s the truth,” Seungmin says, but he sounds strained. Hyunjin only continues to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Minho demands.

“Nothing,” says Seungmin, extricating himself from Hyunjin’s bear hug. “If you all are done, I’m going to call the car.”

“Hyung,” says Hyunjin. “Did Seungmin ever tell you why we broke up?”

As usual, his voice carries. Out of the corner of Minho’s eye, he catches Seungmin, almost out the door, freezing for a second before he goes out to get the car. “No,” he says slowly. Seungmin had never told him, and Minho had just assumed it was for incompatibility reasons. Perhaps that was an oversight on his part.

“Well, I hope he does soon,” says Hyunjin. “It’ll be a long time coming.”

“Um,” says Minho. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“Kim Dahyun?” says the girl across from him, her polite smile tinged with confusion. “Your blind date?”

“No, I know that. I meant him.”

Minho gestures to the man sitting right next to her, looming over her protectively with all of his 180-plus centimeters. Minho can’t really judge heights when they’re sitting down, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to be seen standing next to this guy.

“Oh,” says Dahyun, like she genuinely couldn’t have pinpointed the source of his confusion without his help. “This is my boyfriend, Mingyu. He came with me for moral support.”

Minho blinks so rapidly he thinks his eyelashes might fall off. “Your… boyfriend.”

“We’re in an open relationship, though!” says Dahyun. Mingyu doesn’t really look like he shares the sentiment. “He comes on all my first dates with other guys.”

“Interesting,” says Minho, surreptitiously sneaking his phone out from his pocket and firing off a text to Seungmin that reads what the fuck. What is it with his dates always bringing along the other men in their lives? “And would you say this happens a lot?”

“Yeah, I get a lot of first dates!” Dahyun beams, before her face falls. “No second dates, though. I wonder why.”

“It’s not your fault, baby,” says Mingyu, petting her shoulder gently while sending a very handsome and very pointed smile to Minho. The multitasking is impressive, honestly. “They’re just scared by how strong and independent of a woman you are.”

“Thanks, oppa,” says Dahyun, leaning into him. “You’re so sweet, really. Where am I going to find another man like you?”

>> Hyung?

>> Is everything okay?

<< who the fuck did you set me up with

“Minho-ssi?”

“Ahem,” says Minho, trying his best to look like he definitely wasn’t texting under the table. “I think it’s great how supportive you are, Mingyu-ssi,” he says, blindly sending off a few more SOS messages. “I don’t know if I could handle it if my girlfriend wanted to bring me on all her blind dates.”

“Oh, I’m happy to do it,” says Mingyu, laughing aggressively loudly. “I hope you aren’t put off, Minho-ssi.”

“Not at all,” says Minho, ignoring how nervous Dahyun is beginning to look. “In fact—”

“Ah, hyung, you forgot your jacket,” says someone from behind him, and Minho has never been more glad to hear Seungmin’s voice in his entire life. “Here,” says Seungmin, handing Minho his own bomber jacket. Usually Minho would hope other people don’t think he’s the type to wear Lotte Giants merch, but at this point he’d wear almost anything to get out of this. “Sorry for the interruption,” Seungmin directs to Dahyun, genial as always. “Hyung gets cold easily. I hope the date is going well.”

Dahyun immediately relaxes. “Oh look, oppa,” she tells Mingyu. “Minho-ssi brought his boyfriend too!”

“My what,” says Minho.

“His what,” says Seungmin.

Minho exchanges a look with Seungmin. He scoffs. “Kim Seungmin is not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, my bad. But he’s single?” says Dahyun, turning to Seungmin. “In that case, I have a really cute friend who you might be interested in! Do you want to see her picture?” To Minho, she offers an apologetic smile over her shoulder. “Sorry, Minho-ssi, but you’re not really her type.”

“Sorry, did I say Kim Seungmin is not my boyfriend? I meant to say Kim Seungmin is my boyfriend,” says Minho. “You caught me. Yup, he is my secret boyfriend. We are deeply in love, but I am tragically forced to hide him from my dates because I am supposed to marry a woman. But now it turns out that you have a secret boyfriend as well. What a relief. I am so happy.”

Seungmin ducks down to whisper in his ear. “Hyung, you sound very robotic.”

“Shut up,” Minho says swiftly. Two seconds later, he follows it up with a stilted, “Honey.”

Dahyun giggles. “You two are cute.” Mingyu doesn’t seem as convinced, but no one gives a flying fuck about him anyways. “Seungmin-ssi, why don’t you join us for dinner then? We can pull up another seat.”

“I really shouldn’t,” says Seungmin, inching towards the exit and glaring daggers at Minho, who smiles sweetly in response.

“Don’t be so cold, jagiya,” Minho lilts. “Don’t you want to have a meal with your boyfriend? And his blind date and her boyfriend?”

Grudgingly, Seungmin sits down, kicking Minho in the shin. Minho stomps on his foot in response, covering up Seungmin’s pained yelp with a perfectly timed sneeze of his own. “Excuse me. Where were we?”

“So how did you two start dating?” Dahyun asks.

“That’s a good question,” says Seungmin, turning to smile dangerously at Minho. “How did we start dating, hyung?”

Minho’s first instinct is to say something inane like Kim Seungmin just couldn’t resist my charms which, while true, would probably undermine his mission here. Instead he finds himself saying, as unbearably honest as it is, “Seungmin and I have known each other for a very long time.”

“Ooh, that’s so cute,” says Dahyun, counting off her fingers. “I wonder if I have any childhood friends to fall in love with.”

“He’s also my secretary, so we work very closely,” Minho supplies. Mingyu and Seungmin both glare at him for that. Minho only continues to smile.

“Secretary! That’s a good idea. I should hire a new one, what do you think of that, oppa?”

“That could work,” Mingyu says through gritted teeth. “Seungmin-ssi, what do you like about Minho-ssi?”

“He’s,” Seungmin starts, tilting his head as if to consider Minho more deeply. Minho’s waiting for him to say something equally inane, but Seungmin finishes with: “He’s very kind. He thinks he does a good job of hiding it, but I can tell he cares for me very deeply.”

“Don’t delude yourself, Kim Seungmin,” Minho huffs, unable to stop himself. “I provide you with the bare minimum support so that you can keep doing your job.”

Seungmin, as usual, ignores him. “I don’t eat as much red meat anymore because I have a family history of heart disease,” he tells the other side of the table. “And I prefer beer to wine.”

The food comes out almost right after that, as if the universe is on Kim Seungmin’s side rather than his. Three steaks, one fish. Minho, who had done the ordering for the table earlier, can only scowl. “So what?” he argues. “So I don’t want you to die early. That would leave me out of a secretary.”

“I can’t eat spicy food well. I also don’t like tilapia and prefer red snapper whenever possible,” says Seungmin. “Speaking of which, hyung, it’s good. You should try some.”

“I’m not petty enough to purposely ignore your preference if I’m aware of it, you make me sound like such a mean person,” Minho complains. Seungmin spears off a chunk of fish, and Minho bites it off his fork. “It’s alright.”

“You make it better,” Seungmin agrees.

The date doesn’t last long after that, the other couple perhaps put off by them. Ha, thinks Minho, take that. Outdated by a couple who aren’t even dating. Briefly he has the idea of convincing Seungmin to go on a couples competition reality TV show with him before realizing what a disastrous idea it would be. Still, they could probably win.

“Are you still hungry?” Minho asks Seungmin after, the two of them standing outside the restaurant in the way of the passersby going back and forth. Seungmin is shivering slightly in the chill of late evening. He’s the one who gets cold easily, actually; Minho is built like a tank and is constantly generating more body heat than he knows what to do with. He shucks off his blazer and shoves Seungmin’s arms into it, the thicker fabric still retaining some of his own warmth. His skinny wrists stick out of too-short sleeves, but at least he looks a little warmer now.

Seungmin shrugs. “I could eat.” Which, in Seungmin-speak, means he’s fucking starving.

Minho grins. “Good.”

There’s a pojangmacha a block down that they duck into, securing two seats at the end of the bar where the steam is the thickest. Minho orders three servings of ddeokbokki and a handful of skewers to share. Neither of them have ever really liked Western food anyways. Seungmin adds two bottles of blueberry soju to the order.

“I don’t like blueberry,” Minho complains.

“Who said these were for you?” says Seungmin, one eyebrow raised. “Order some yourself if you want it.”

“Didn’t know you were in party mode today. Who’s dragging your drunk ass back home later, then?”

“You, obviously,” Seungmin says smoothly. He picks up one of the bottles by the neck and flips it upside down. Hits it at six o’clock, one, twelve, just the way Minho taught him. The resulting tornado spins out against the glass walls. What a loser. “Ask me to pour you a shot.”

Minho holds up a shot glass and lets Seungmin tip the soju in. Blueberry, as expected, tastes awful. Minho only takes a sip and pours the rest of it into the glass of the guy next to him when he’s not looking.

Two bottles later, Seungmin is slumped face down against the bar top, mumbling incoherently to himself. Minho polishes off Seungmin’s last skewer. “I’ll call the driver, then.”

“No,” says Seungmin, pouting stubbornly. “Let’s take the subway.”

“Kim Seungmin, do you realize what time it is?”

“So?” Seungmin challenges. “Normal people take the subway.”

Minho sighs. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want,” Seungmin huffs, pushing himself up off the stool and stumbling down the sidewalk. Minho doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s going the wrong way.

By sheer reflex, he manages to catch him before he face plants straight into the ground. “You are a nuisance, Kim Seungmin.”

Seungmin snuffles unintelligibly, nosing at the side of Minho’s neck. Minho finds himself startled when his pulse jumps. “Carry me.”

“You don’t want to take the car and now you want me to carry you,” Minho complains, crouching down so Seungmin can get on his back. “You’re really too much, you know that?”

When Seungmin speaks again, it’s so quiet that Minho almost loses it into the night air. “I’ll admit I’m too much,” he murmurs hoarsely, “but you’re the one who’s being unfair.”

Something in Minho’s chest twists painfully. “You’re not too much, you know that, right?” he says. “I was joking. I don’t think you’re a nuisance.”

Seungmin’s hands twist into his shirt, head hanging even lower over Minho’s shoulder. “I know that, silly hyung,” he says, voice glassy. “I know things even you don’t know.”

“Like what?”

“Can’t say. It’s a secret.”

“You won’t even tell me, then?”

“Maybe one day.” Minho thinks he’s out, then, but Seungmin murmurs, “If I’m ever a little less scared,” and Minho wants to ask, scared of what, but Seungmin has already fallen asleep on his back and it’s no longer important. All he can do now is bring him home.

“No, you know what?” says Minho, before either his stupid grandfather or his stupid secretary can open their mouths. “If I have to go on a blind date, then Kim Seungmin has to go on one too. It’s only fair.”

Seungmin’s mouth falls open in protest. “We’re trying to marry you off, not me.”

Unfortunately for him, Chairman Lee’s already nodding. “Yes,” he says contemplatively, “I would like to see you married in my lifetime as well, Seungmin. You’re like a second grandson to me, you know.”

“That’s weird, halabeoji,” says Minho. “Say he’s like your annoying little pet dog instead.”

“It’s not weird,” Chairman Lee says, outraged. “I can say he’s like my grandson if I want. That’s a very normal thing to say.”

“Actually, with all due respect, I’d prefer the pet dog comparison too,” says Seungmin.

Chairman Lee sighs heavily. “You two,” he says, shaking your head. “You fight all the time with each other, but as soon as there’s someone else to target you have so much chemistry. Are you sure you’re not dating?”

Seungmin goes rigid. Minho scowls. “Kim Seungmin said he’s not gay.”

“Does that mean you are?”

“Dear halabeonim, are you sure you want to know?”

Chairman Lee huffs. “I suppose it’s none of my business then. I’ll find someone to set you up with, Seungmin.”

“No need,” says Minho. “I already have the perfect person in mind.”

That was a lie. Minho, even with his extensive network of contacts, hadn’t known who would be Seungmin’s perfect match. It was Seungmin’s fault, of course, both for being objectively above average and meriting someone at least as good as him, and for being deliberately obtuse about his type. All Minho knows is that it’s not him, apparently.

When he tries asking about Seungmin’s type to the one person he knows that Seungmin has dated, however, he gets both twenty texts of HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA and a three-minute long voice recording of Hyunjin laughing his ass off. And he wonders why Minho doesn’t like him.

Finally, after extensive research and consultation (read: Minho forcing Hyunjin to review each and every one of his LinkedIn connections), Minho finds the one person who could be Seungmin’s perfect match.

“Just letting you know now, I prefer to bottom,” says Han Jisung, Minho’s trusty underclassman from college. “So if he’s also a bottom, this may not work out.”

Or maybe not.

“How the fuck would I know what he likes in bed?” asks Minho, choking. “It’s not like I’ve slept with him before.”

“You haven’t?” asks Jisung, wiggling his eyebrows. “But really, you’ve known the guy for, like, ever, and you never thought to ask?”

Minho’s brain tries to process the thought of Kim Seungmin having sex and promptly spits out an ERROR 404 message. Then it stumbles across a worse thought: does that mean Seungmin has had sex with Hyunjin? Yet another reason for Minho to hunt him down and broil him on high heat in the GoFood industrial ovens. His list of sins grows longer by the day. “We don’t have conversations like that,” he says stiffly.

“Eh,” says Jisung, shrugging. “Anyways, you said blind date?”

Oh yes, the mission. “Give him hell,” says Minho. “But also, if you actually hurt him I will hunt you down and end you.”

“What the hell, hyung?” Jisung whines. “I thought I was your favorite dongsaeng!”

“Neither of you are,” says Minho. “It’s very obviously Jeongin. And also my real dongsaengs.”

“Great,” Jisung grumbles. “Perfect conversation starter, it’s something we have in common. ‘Hey Seungmin-ssi, did you know we’re both less important to hyung than his cats?’”

“See, you’re already doing so well.”

“Hyung, that was a joke!”

Minho only smiles. “Have fun,” he says. “Be good to him, yeah? He’s a good kid. You’ll like him.”

Jisung throws him a look. “Hyung. Minho-hyung. I’ve known you for a long time,” he says. “Are you sure I’m the one who should be going on this date?”

Near the end of the date, Minho loses sight of Seungmin.

It’s not like it was his fault—hiding in the bushes is hard enough when you’re a regular person, let alone a huge industry name who should be more dignified than this—and he’d lost his balance and fallen over and when he’d gotten upright again suddenly Seungmin was gone from the table. It didn’t look like anything was wrong—he watched Jisung call over a waiter to box up some leftovers—and so he’d assumed that Seungmin had just gone to the bathroom.

“Hyung.”

Minho shoots up to standing, surreptitiously brushing leaves off his clothing. Judging by Seungmin’s expression, however, it isn’t surreptitious enough. “Kim Seungmin.”

“What are you doing here?”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Did you not want someone to pick you up? You can walk home if you’d like. It would be healthy.”

“I could’ve called a taxi.”

“And waste money like that? You really have no sense of frugality, do you? It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far without going bankrupt.”

Seungmin’s face spasms like he can’t decide what expression to go for, finally settling on pursed lips and furrowed brows. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to see you through the window?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was only passing by.”

“Hyung, five other tables were looking at you. You really have no shame, do you?”

“I would have shame if I did things that were shameful, but I don’t.”

There are levels to how deep Seungmin’s sighs are, corresponding to his approximate level of exasperation. The one he lets out now is about a five out of seven. “Okay,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let me just go back inside to get the check and then we can go.”

Minho, preoccupied with watching the corners of his mouth twitch, only says, “It’s already taken care of. Don’t let me ruin the rest of your date.”

“No, it’s alright,” says Seungmin. “I had a good time, but I think I’m ready to go home.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “That kid,” he says. “Did he do anything?”

Seungmin shakes his head. “I’m just tired.”

“Tired?”

“Mhmm.” Seungmin fidgets with his shirt collar, not looking at him at first. When he does, his eyes soften just the slightest bit. “So let’s just go home.”

Seungmin is quiet on the ride home. He must really be tired, because slowly, slowly, he lets his head tip onto Minho’s shoulder. Lightly, like he’s afraid of making Minho bear the full brunt of his weight. The fine strands of his hair tickle Minho’s throat. Minho holds very still and watches the lights pass by through the window.

He must actually fall asleep at some point, making no move to get up when the driver pulls up to his apartment. Minho is the one to shake him awake, dragging him out of the car and bidding the driver a good night.

Seungmin falls onto the couch as soon as they get into his apartment, leaving Minho to lock the door behind him. “Hyung,” he says, muffled by a pillow. “Wanna watch a drama?”

“I thought you were tired,” says Minho.

“I watch them to fall asleep, sometimes,” says Seungmin, like a liar. Minho has known him too long to not be aware of how obsessive he is about brushing his teeth before bed. Still, he goes to sit down on the other end of the couch. Seungmin folds himself up and gestures for the remote, putting on the newest episode of the same romance drama he’s been obsessed with since it started airing. Minho’s been keeping up, by proxy, but there’s nothing particularly special about it. It’s just a simple romance drama.

When the episode ends, Seungmin stops the TV from autoplaying the next one, but otherwise makes no move to turn it off. The blue light reflects off the planes of his profile when Minho turns to look at him. “Hyung,” he asks, still staring at the screen. “If I ask you something, will you answer honestly?”

Cautiously, Minho asks, “What is it?”

“What’s your type?”

That wasn’t what he was expecting. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just wondering,” says Seungmin, shrugging. “None of your dates have been working out.”

But Minho doesn’t know the answer to that question, either. It’s not like he’d spared any brainspace to ponder it. On every date he went on, no matter how good or bad it was, all he could think about was how he’d rather be at home, sitting on the couch and watching some random drama he doesn’t care about.

“If we get along, it’s fine,” he offers blandly.

“So you don’t care.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Kim Seungmin,” Minho says sharply. “It’s not that.” But even if he looks, he still can’t find what it is.

Seungmin is silent for a long, long time, long enough for the television screen to go black on its own. It’s almost completely dark when he says, “Hyung, I want to quit.”

“What? No,” Minho says reflexively, before he can even think about what he’s saying. The panic that surges through him is unexpected, but he can’t be faulted for being caught off-guard by this: the situation that he never thought would happen, actually happening. “You can’t quit.”

“I can’t, or you won’t let me?” asks Seungmin.

“Why do you want to quit?”

“I just do.”

“I’ll reduce your responsibilities,” says Minho. “You can work less hours, I’ll pay you the same. I’ll pay you more. If you want to try something new, if you want to go back to school, we can support you. Just don’t—”

“It’s not that,” Seungmin cuts in, softly.

“Then what is it?” Minho begs. “Tell me.”

Seungmin laughs, and the sound comes out choked and flat. “I’m a bit more selfish than you think, hyung,” he says. “I don’t want to set you up on any more dates.”

He doesn’t look at Minho when he says it, but even if he did it’d be hard for Minho to tell. This high up, the light from the city doesn’t reach his window. It must be the only way he can do this, Minho realizes—pry open his own rib cage and place Minho’s hands around the soft beating flesh of his heart, with no idea what Minho will do with it in the dark. And all Minho can think about is that if Seungmin stopped sitting on his couch every day, the divot that’s grown under his weight over time would eventually puff up back to normal, as if he’d never sat there at all. Somehow, that thought is the most unbearable.

“Seungmin-ah,” says Minho. “You were right, hyung was unfair to you. I made a mistake. I set you up with the wrong person. But if you can still trust this stupid hyung, go on just one more date.”

“With who?” asks Seungmin.

“Me,” says Minho. “Kim Seungmin, go on a date with me.”

“I’m firing you,” says Minho. “Just for the record, I hope you know you’re being fired.”

“You’re not firing me, I’m resigning,” Seungmin complains. “What else did I type up this whole letter for?”

“Do you want the severance package or not?”

The resignation letter sits on Minho’s desk, right on top of Seungmin’s acceptance letter to veterinary school. Minho plans to frame one and shred the other. Seungmin looks like he’s worried Minho will mix them up without a secretary around.

He’ll be fine. His grandfather will hire one to replace Seungmin soon enough. Minho half expects it to be a last-ditch matchmaking attempt, but it’s not like he’s planning to get into the habit of falling in love with his secretaries. Once is more than enough.

“Why would I need it,” says Seungmin, “when I can just leech off your goodwill instead?”

“What goodwill? I’m throwing you out on the street once you stop being able to afford your half of the rent.”

“It’s my name on the lease, though?”

Minho waves him off. “Your landlord has seen me so many times I’m sure he thinks I’m the real Kim Seungmin at this point.”

Seungmin wrinkles his nose. “Not with that face, unless you’ve managed to rid the public consciousness of your image.”

“Do you think I’m handsome, Kim Seungmin? Be honest.”

Seungmin only shrugs. “If I’m going to be waking up to your face every day, I suppose I’m lucky that it happens to be a nice one.”

“You’re so annoying, you know that?”

Seungmin laughs. “You’re cute, hyung,” he says, thumbing at the curve of Minho’s ear. Minho slaps his hand away. “I’ll see you later tonight, then?”

“Hmm, don’t know if I can,” says Minho, grabbing some random papers off his desk and stacking them into a neat pile. “I have a date tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, my secretary scheduled it for me right before I fired him. Can you believe him?”

“The nerve,” says Seungmin. “Guess it’s a good thing you fired him after all. You’ll find a better one.”

“It’s unlikely,” says Minho, which is as far as he’ll let himself speak on the topic. “You’d better get going, then. Only company employees are allowed here, you know.”

“Okay, okay,” says Seungmin, holding his hands up in surrender. “I know when I’m not wanted. Have a good day at work, hyung.”

Minho watches him go, a foreign ache settling deep in his chest. As usual, Kim Seungmin doesn’t know anything.

“Kim Seungmin,” he calls, right before Seungmin can step outside. “Ask me again what my type is.”

Seungmin turns, stifling a smile. “Okay, hyung,” he says. “What’s your type?”

“You,” says Minho. “It’s always been you.”

“So,” says Seungmin, staring out the tinted windows of the car. Three blocks down, the restaurant they were supposed to be eating at is currently on fire. “This is awkward.”

Gas leak, faulty wiring—the little news anchor on Minho’s phone even suspects arson. Apparently there’s some turf war going on between two of the celebrity chefs in the area. Minho suspects that Seungmin’s secretly rooting for them to fall in love, because he’s stupid like that. Doesn’t he know real life is nothing like dramas?

“We don't have another reservation,” says Seungmin, frowning.

Minho shrugs. It’s not his first date to get ruined, nor will it be the last, probably. “We have food at home, and I bought that stupid matcha cake you like so much.”

“Hyung, marry me?” says Seungmin. Minho smacks him.

“You’re too easy to please. Are you going to run off with the next person who buys you coffee?”

“Only if he gets it the way I like,” Seungmin hums. “With my favorite add-on on the side.”

“Which is?”

“You.”

“Disgusting. Unbelievable,” says Minho, who had almost let himself be outraged that there was some facet to Seungmin’s coffee order—iced Americano with an extra shot and less ice, but every other Tuesday, he lets himself get a flavored latte instead—that he hadn’t known about. He should've known. There’s nothing about Kim Seungmin that he doesn’t know by now. Not his coffee order, not his favorite dessert, not the fact that he’s stupidly, unbearably romantic at the best of times and insufferable at the worst. But Minho suffers him anyways, because that’s the lot in life he’s chosen for himself. There are worse fates, indeed. “Get out of here. Go home.”

“I will,” Seungmin says easily. “As long as you come with me.”