Chapter Text
The company’s office is located near the top floor of a luxurious skyscraper, and Yoongi isn’t entirely sure why he’s there. With all the employees long gone and the clock well past midnight, he doesn’t know why he’s sitting at his father’s desk, his legs swinging carelessly, or why he’s smoking the cigarette in his hand. He’s not even sure why he’s staring out into the city’s brilliant lights through the massive tinted windows that span the entire room, shrouded in complete darkness. Because, in a way, he hates Seoul—its bright lights, this room, all of it.
And yet, something pulled him here. Something intangible, not physical, brought him rushing out of his friend’s party, unable to stop the tears streaming down his face, sprinting to this place where he shoved everything off the desk just to sit. No, he doesn’t miss his father—the man he lost barely a week ago. In fact, he hates him, maybe as much as he hates this room, this city, for leaving all this responsibility on his shoulders.
But here he is anyway. The chair he’s supposed to sit in, the one he’s supposed to own by now, sits empty just a little ways away, its back resting against the glass. Yoongi leans on the desk instead, quietly crying as he takes another drag from his cigarette. He doesn’t care that the ash falls onto his ripped jeans or that it might burn him.
All he can do is wonder why he has to do this. Why the weight of the gaping wound in his soul is his to carry. He mourns it in silence, feels the anxiety bubbling up as his mind replays everything that could go wrong from here on out. And yet, somehow, he doesn’t care about any of it.
In a way, his plan is to stay here until sunrise. Then he’ll head back to his tiny studio apartment for a short nap before going to work at the job that keeps his dream alive. Two days will pass like that. Then he’ll return here. For good.
This desk will be his. He’ll be the one with the authority, the one making all the decisions. And maybe someday, he’ll get married, have a child, and raise them the same way he was raised. Maybe he’ll become just like his father—stealing that child’s life away piece by piece in the name of ambition. And eventually, his time will come, too. He’ll die. And maybe, just maybe, one day, it’ll be his son sitting at this desk, crying like this.
Yoongi let out a deep sigh. His blond hair felt stiff from the mint-green spray he’d used before the party, and the faint eyeliner he’d applied had smudged from crying. He looked so disheveled that if anyone saw him now, they’d never believe he was the sole heir to a company like this.
He held his breath for a moment, struggling to release it, but when he finally exhaled, he lowered his head, letting his swinging legs pick up speed. With a sharp press, he crushed the nearly finished cigarette onto the desk, right next to the three others he’d already extinguished there, and left it.
The employees had just returned to work that morning after a short holiday. None of them had expected Mr. Min to die suddenly in a car accident, and the absence of a boss had come as a shock—especially since many of them hadn’t even known Yoongi existed.
Yoongi wrestled with this constantly. Maybe he should just sell the company and walk away. Maybe he shouldn’t involve himself in this at all. But his mother’s relentless pressure made it clear to him that such an option had never truly existed.
He was a prisoner of his family, and he always had been.
As the minutes slipped by and Yoongi closed his eyes, trying to calm himself in the heavy silence, the sound of a lock turning shattered the darkness. It was enough to make him flinch slightly and furrow his brows. Before he knew it, he had jumped off the desk, though he couldn’t quite remember when or how it happened.
Choosing to remain silent, Yoongi stepped out of his father’s office with light, almost birdlike footsteps. The first thing he noticed was the hallway light was on, and he could clearly hear the rapid opening and closing of drawers. Then, a small voice whispered, “Hurry, Taehyung. We shouldn’t be here at this hour.”
“I can’t find it,” Yoongi paused, noticing the new voice was much louder and more relaxed than the previous one. He scanned his surroundings, his brow furrowing deeper as he looked at the decorations, the ornate vases, and several tables placed along the wide corridor leading toward his father’s office.
When his eyes landed on the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, he didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, gently pulling it off its holder, positioning it as if it might serve as a weapon for one of the names he’d been considering. His steps quickened as he turned the corner, heading straight for the room where the murmurs came from. He had no plan, but then again, Yoongi rarely ever did.
So, he leaned back against the wall beside the open door, absentmindedly scratching at the dried tear stain on his cheek as he waited.
The harsh voice inside almost shouted, “Finally!” as the other laughed and replied, “If you’ve found it, let’s go. I don’t want to die from lack of sleep.”
For a moment, Yoongi admitted to himself that the voice sounded far too polite and soft for a thief, but the other boy matched the image in his mind’s sketch, so he quickly pushed the thought aside, not wanting to complicate things. As fate would have it, these events unfolded on the first day he set foot back in the company after months away. With a small, almost affectionate curse directed at destiny and everything he once believed in, he let it go.
He held his breath, listening to the footsteps, and as soon as he saw someone emerge from the room, he swung the fire extinguisher with swift precision, hitting the man’s head. He watched with pride as the man crumpled to the floor. But before he could fully relish the moment, the boy behind him screamed, “Taehyung!” and Yoongi took a step back.
Yoongi raised the fire extinguisher again, his voice firm as he warned, “Don’t move!” But the young man in pink pajamas, with shocked eyes, ignored the warning. “Oh my God, Tae, are you okay?” he cried, rushing to kneel beside the unconscious figure on the floor. Yoongi froze as his eyes locked with the small yellow hairpin holding the boy’s hair back, and he took another step back.
He didn’t seem much like a thief, but maybe he was acting that way to avoid drawing attention.
Yoongi struggled to swallow as he spoke, his voice steady but tense. “I’ve caught you,” he said. “Tell me your name, I’m calling the police.”
The boy, holding his unconscious friend’s head in his lap, screamed in disbelief, “Are you crazy?” Yoongi could have sworn he saw tears welling up in his eyes, and just a second later, one dropped down his cheek. “Try calling an ambulance instead of the police, you idiot! What are you, security or something?” He kept shouting. “If Mr. Min were here, he’d sue you and fire you for this! Oh my God!”
Yoongi frowned, piecing together the words, his mind racing with new shock. But before he could process it any further, the boy with black hair—still in nothing but his pajamas—shouted, “Hey!” His voice cracked with urgency. “Don’t just stand there, call an ambulance! If he dies, I’ll throw you off this building, do you hear me?” And now, he was crying uncontrollably.
Yoongi dropped the red fire extinguisher carelessly to the floor, his hands shaking. “Aren’t you a thief?” he asked, his voice almost filled with disappointment. The only answer he received was a glare that cut through him and a low, angry grunt.
“I’m Mr. Min’s secretary, you idiot!” the boy shouted. “And the kid you just left for dead is our brand’s reputation manager! Do you understand? Now I’m begging you, call an ambulance, because my phone isn’t with me!”
As Yoongi’s shock doubled, and all the emotions he’d been battling all day tangled together, short-circuiting his mind, he felt the overwhelming urge to scream at the chaotic scene before him. But knowing it wasn’t the right time, he quickly pulled out his phone, which he had shoved into the back pocket of his jeans, only to abandon it almost immediately.
“The hospital’s nearby,” he muttered, already running back toward his father’s office. “No need to wait for the ambulance.”
“Do you think he can walk right now?” came another frantic shout. Yoongi quickly glanced around the chaotic room, then spotted his leather jacket. He grabbed it and threw it on, not forgetting the pack of cigarettes on the desk as he quickly exited.
With fast steps, he turned back into the corridor. Without hesitation, he scooped up the helpless Taehyung, who was lying in front of the crying boy, in a surprisingly practical manner. “Get up,” he said. “My car’s downstairs.”
And they rushed out of the company building at full speed.
-
Unaware of the smudged eyeliner on his face and the mint green hair that was starting to fade from the spray, Yoongi ignored the strange looks people gave him as he made his way up to the third floor of the hospital, two coffees from the cafeteria in hand. He was trying to shake off his exhausted state and the jumble of thoughts running through his mind. Everything felt more complicated because he couldn’t quite understand how he had ended up here so suddenly.
The hospital was close, but the boy, whose name Yoongi still didn’t know, had cried so loudly and for so long along the way that his head was pounding. When they laid his unconscious friend on a stretcher, he begged the doctors to make sure he wouldn’t die. In the end, the nurse next to the doctor reassured him, saying that all his vitals were normal and the patient had just fainted. Still, Yoongi was absolutely certain that the boy’s head would be swollen for days because of the blow.
Amidst all these thoughts, Yoongi found himself reflecting on how he’d snapped out of his depressive state at the company, only to rush into action, mistakenly thinking the two kids were thieves. He grimaced at his own embarrassment, making a mental note to never, ever tell Namjoon or Hoseok about any of this. At that moment, as he turned the corner, he ran into the boy in pajamas pacing in front of the hospital room. The kid didn’t seem to notice Yoongi at all.
His index finger rested just below his lower lip, near his chin, as his eyes were fixed entirely on the tiles, pacing slowly in front of the room, lost in deep thought. With a cute hairpin in his head, his black hair spread out like an umbrella, making him look adorable. Still, Yoongi had already figured out that this cuteness could easily slip away when the boy was angry or upset. He could snap at anyone, anytime.
While crying hysterically in the car, Yoongi had heard him curse a lot, but he didn’t say anything. If he had seen him pass out suddenly when he and Namjoon left their shared office, he would’ve had no hesitation in confronting whoever did this to him, and wouldn’t feel an ounce of regret. The kid’s reactions weren’t that extreme.
Yoongi gripped the tray a little tighter and exhaled through his nose, finally stopping at the stair landing before he continued moving, making his way down the seemingly empty corridor toward the boy. The moment the pajama-clad kid saw him, he shot a sharp, scrutinizing look at Yoongi, furrowing his brows. Then, in the harshest tone possible, he asked, “Who are you? I think you’re the real thief here. Don’t try to run because your face is completely imprinted in my memory, and I got your license plate. Also!” Yoongi raised his index finger quickly. “A security guard doesn’t drive an Aston Martin. Tell me the truth, immediately. That way, we can come to an agreement.”
For perhaps the first time in days, Yoongi smiled as he looked at him, then, with complete calm, extended the tray toward him. “I’m not running,” he said, offering it to the boy. “Here, for you. I don’t know how many sugars you take, so I grabbed just three. But if it’s more, I can come back.”
When the boy with black hair diverted his gaze and looked at the coffee cup on the tray, his eyes betraying a clear need for it, Yoongi raised an eyebrow. But he didn’t let his expression falter. He dropped two sugar cubes into the coffee and handed it to him. Without missing a beat, he said, “Alright. Speak.”
“I’m sorry about your friend—”
“Of course you’re sorry. You should be. You almost killed him.”
Yoongi was about to burst into laughter, but knowing it would be an exaggerated and ridiculous reaction, he barely managed to stop himself, pressing his lips together. With a small smile, he said, “He just passed out.” Knowing this would probably irritate the boy even more, he quickly added, “I thought you were thieves. I’m new at the company and don’t know the staff well yet, alright? I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to do in the moment.”
The boy with black hair, clearly younger than Yoongi, watched him with suspicious eyes and, adopting an entirely questioning tone, said, “If there were a new employee at the company, I would have known. Mr. Min would have definitely told me.”
Yoongi didn’t want to share the harsh truth with him, because he had already understood how soft the boy’s heart was, even from the short time they’d spent together. If he told him that he would soon be his new boss, the boy would probably sink into the ground, apologizing endlessly for all the curses he had thrown, even though he was in the right. Yoongi didn’t want to admit that he was the boss of the company and the only son of the late Mr. Min. He didn’t want anyone to know that. In fact, if he could, he would change his identity completely, without hesitation.
“I’m sure he’s told you,” Yoongi said, taking a deep breath. “I think you’ll be seeing a lot of me on Monday.”
“I think you’re just making room to run away right now,” the boy said, lunging forward again, and Yoongi couldn’t help but admire his stubbornness. It was nice to see him being so skeptical for a company he only worked for. With a small smile, Yoongi took a deep breath.
“I swear I’m not a thief,” he muttered. “But I should leave now, alright? It’s really late, and they’ll keep your friend overnight. I’m really sorry about his head. If he can make it, I’ll bring him an apology gift at the office on Monday, okay?”
The other boy blinked, narrowing his eyes as if he were a detective, and Yoongi briefly wondered if he had seen through him, but didn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t even guess how this kid ended up at Min Holdings. He didn’t seem like the type for this kind of life. When Yoongi looked at him, he saw more of a dancer’s profile, or maybe even a painter? Someone from the arts, certainly, but definitely not a secretary at a corporation.
The younger one spoke with a firm tone, “If I don’t see you at work, the first person I’ll be calling is the police.” He paused, then added, “Also, if Mr. Min really hired you, there should be some kind of document. He never misses that. You’ll come to my office because his son hasn’t arrived yet, and until he does, I’m handling most things. Until the real boss shows up, you’re dealing with me, understand?” His eyebrows raised authoritatively, and his voice had a slight edge to it. “And of course, you’ll get a gift as expensive as that car of yours for my sweet Tae, leave it on his desk, and offer a big apology to him.”
Yoongi couldn’t help but let a big, genuine smile spread across his face this time. He couldn’t deny that he felt a sense of unnecessary fondness for the younger one’s protective, confident demeanor, and without trying to hide it, he nodded in approval. “I’ll do that, boss,” he said, trying to play into his attitude. The kid, most likely thinking he’d won, put on a smug expression and crossed his arms in front of him. “Nice,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. “Now you can go.”
Yoongi shook his head with a soft laugh, glancing back at the boy one last time before turning away. “Is your place nearby?” He asked. “I can pick you up tomorrow.”
No boy paused for a moment, as if considering, but quickly made up his mind. “No need.” He muttered. “We’re close, a taxi will do.”
Yoongi didn’t insist. He simply shrugged and said, “Alright.” When the boy didn’t say anything else, he turned and headed back toward the stairs with the empty tray in hand.
It was a strange day for him. Definitely a big, strange day because he never expected to find himself in this situation after waking up and going to his studio in the morning, then preparing for Jungkook’s party. He couldn’t have known. All he wanted was to cry and relax in the room his father hated, but it seemed life didn’t really like him crying because Min Yoongi had never been the type of child who could cry.
He took a deep breath and for a brief moment, before heading down to the parking lot, he thought about Monday.
Maybe it could be more fun than he had expected. At least the beginning.
-
“Alright, check this out.” Hoseok fiddled with the equipment, making sure a new melody filled the room, while Yoongi leaned against the high table, his arms crossed in front of him, lost in thought as he stared at the floor, reflecting on what happened the day before. He barely heard his coworker and, to be honest, couldn’t tell the difference between this sound and the last. Normally, he could easily distinguish even the slightest shift in undertones, a skill that everyone appreciated, but right now, his mind was elsewhere, filled with too many thoughts, and his focus wasn’t on work.
“Hyung!” Hoseok waved his hand at Yoongi, tilting his head slightly towards him and continuing to wave. “Hey, are you here? Hi? Hello? Min Yoongi?”
“Hm?” Yoongi flinched and raised an eyebrow. He pushed his hair, now turned completely silver from leaving the purple shampoo in too long, back and looked at Hoseok as if trying to understand what he had said. His friend stared at him in surprise. “What?” Yoongi asked. “I spaced out. What did you say?”
“Where’s your head at?” Hoseok asked, cutting through the silence in the room. “You’ve been like this lately. You keep telling us it’s not about your dad, but I think it has something to do with him. You even left that amazing party last night and disappeared. Talk to me, hyung.”
Yoongi knew that Hoseok was right, and he also acknowledged, deep down, that his troubles were, in part, tied to his father. But he had never been the type of person to share his problems, seek advice, or open up easily. He had always been distant, despite the “Ice Prince” label he’d earned throughout school, a label that contradicted the more approachable side of him. He was friendly, yet kept people at arm’s length. Even though he knew almost everything about his closest friends, he never allowed them to know too much about him. And, of course, he was always the one willing to help others, ready to put his life on the line for them. But he never expected anything in return.
Now, he wasn’t sure how to share all his troubles with Hoseok.
So, he relaxed his arms, stood up from where he had been leaning, and simply said, “It’s a company thing. The idea of coming here less and trying to manage a whole company is a bit overwhelming. Nothing else.” As promised to himself, he didn’t mention the mishap from yesterday and watched as the expression on his friend’s face shifted.
Hoseok leaned back in his chair and turned to him, saying, “Hyung… Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll be a great boss, you’ve always been like that. You’re like a friend to all of us.”
“Probably won’t be able to be like that there, Hobi.” The older one sighed. “If I don’t want to spoil them all, I’ll have to be more authoritative, like my dad—an asshole.”
Hoseok clearly rolled his eyes, then without hesitation, he reached over and gave Yoongi one of his hardest slaps on the arm. “Those are just outdated thoughts!” he complained. “You’re going to go there and show them what a real boss looks like. Plus, Namjoon and I will visit you all the time, alright? You can’t get rid of us, and maybe while signing files or something, you’ll get some inspiration?” Hesitantly, he turned around, opened his drawer, and pulled out a gift-wrapped package, turning back to Yoongi. “Here.”
Yoongi’s troubled expression shifted slightly, a hint of surprise creeping in as he asked with curiosity, “What’s this?” He reached for the gift box just as the younger one beamed with a smile, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. “A gift.” He said, raising an eyebrow. “I was planning to give it to you in your new office, but you like so down. Thought you could use a little cheer.”
Yoongi, in disbelief, paused for a moment before finally pulling his gaze away from Hoseok. He quickly tore open the carefully wrapped gift. As the sleek black leather came into view, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Once the package was fully unwrapped, he stared at the notebook before him—simple yet undeniably elegant. A small rectangular section on the cover was embossed with "Min Yoongi" in gold lettering, adding an extra touch of sophistication to the already stylish notebook.
Yoongi said in awe, "This is beautiful," and looked at his friend. "Thank you.”
"Don't thank me!" Hoseok shouted, hitting Yoongi's arm again. "Just keep it with you, and if inspiration strikes, jot something down. You're still our boss, we need those lyrics!”
"Oh, right, of course. I'll write a diss track for each of my employees every time I get mad, and then I'll perform my amazing rap at the end-of-month meetings."
Hoseok laughed out loud. "That's my guy!”
-
"I can't believe you forgot something so important!"
As Jungkook continued to complain, Yoongi was busy struggling with a suit that felt like it was suffocating him. If his childhood friend hadn’t suddenly knocked on his door and handed him the outfit in its garment bag—what he considered a torturous piece of clothing—he would’ve probably shown up to his first day at the company in a leather jacket and black jeans. And the only person who wouldn't have found that odd would have been the reflection staring back at him in the mirror.
"Okay, Kook, I get it, I'm weird, and the company isn't for me, yes."
"When your mom called me, telling me you still hadn’t picked up the suit I arranged for you, do you have any idea how much I panicked? She sounded so worried, and I honestly thought I wouldn’t be able to catch you in time."
As Yoongi fastened the last button on his shirt, Jungkook, lying on his bed with his arm stretched over his stomach, glanced at his watch and said, "You should’ve been there by now." He paused, shaking his head. "I can’t believe you’re late on your first day.”
"I’m the boss now," Yoongi said, scrunching his face. "I can leave in the afternoon if I want."
"I don’t think things work that way there," Jungkook replied. "Don’t act like it’s your own studio. I thought you got training for this... you know, overseas!”
Well, Yoongi couldn’t exactly deny that. After university, he had been forced to undergo two years of training for this, and when he came back, he was setting up his own studio with a bunch of information that didn’t seem to help much. Still, it seemed like it was time to put that knowledge to use, especially since his father had probably been thinking about these very days when he pushed Yoongi to take the training in the first place.
"Anyway," Yoongi said, letting out a frustrated sigh as he turned away from the mirror, trying to avoid thinking about all those days. "I’ll be quick, get to work, introduce myself to everyone, and then take a nice nap at my desk. Don’t stress me out for no reason.”
The younger one gasped in disbelief, parting his lips as he shook his head in disapproval. "I will never understand you," he said, getting up from his spot. At the same time, he moved towards Yoongi, reaching out to straighten his tie. "Stop fooling yourself, Yoongi-boo. You're someone who likes everything you touch to be flawless. You’ll do the same here, and you'll treat that company like it’s your baby.”
This was exactly what Yoongi feared. He was afraid of getting too caught up in it. Jungkook was right, and Yoongi found himself overwhelmed with thoughts about everything Jungkook had said. The last thing he wanted was to become someone like his father, but his obsession with being good at everything, perfect at everything, was making him afraid he’d get too attached to the company—and that he wouldn’t be able to walk away from it.
Yoongi chose to remain silent, ignoring Jungkook’s words. As he tied his tie, he slipped into his thoughts again, drowning in them. When his friend finally finished, Yoongi turned to the full-length mirror with a look of confusion in his eyes, studying his reflection.
The fabric of his trousers tapered down towards his ankles, hugging his legs in a way that made it clear they had been tailored just for him. His white shirt, crisp and perfectly pressed, tucked neatly into his pants, with the brand-name belt subtly making its appearance. The black tie, expertly tied by Jungkook, completed the look, adding to the sharpness of the suit. His jacket, perfectly fitted, enveloped his body, making him look undeniably stylish.
His hair, still tinged with the greyish hue from the purple shampoo, fell naturally around his face. With no imperfections to hide, he’d opted not to do anything with it except for a swipe of his usual eyeliner.
Yoongi wasn’t used to seeing himself in a suit, but this one—this suit—looked different. It was more than just a piece of clothing. It was proof that he was a company owner now. Unlike anything he'd worn before, it fit him perfectly, and it looked just right. If it were his father, he’d probably look at him instead of ignoring him.
With a satisfied expression.
Yoongi let out a frustrated sigh. He picked up the car keys from the mirrored dresser and turned to his friend. "Let’s go," he said. "Seokjin will probably scold me forever. He might be waiting at the company door."
Jungkook laughed. "No doubt about it," he confirmed with a grin.
-
Yoongi spent a short time in Seokjin's office. Seokjin scolded him, went on about how things didn’t work that way, and repeated everything a million times to make sure Yoongi would be more careful in the future. Finally, with a softer expression, he congratulated him on his first day.
As Jungkook's older brother, Seokjin had been working at the company for a long time. He had joined right after graduation by his own choice. Since the Min family were family friends, it had been easy for him to rise through the ranks. Still, he wasn’t one to rely solely on connections—Seokjin was deeply passionate about his work and always strived to do his best. He held an important position within the company, with a voice that carried weight. Yoongi would likely have to rely on him a lot until he adapted to everything.
"Alright," Seokjin said, pushing his chair back and standing up from his desk. "Now, let's introduce you to the staff. They've all been eager to meet you and have been waiting for days.”
Yoongi took a deep breath. Being in front of people always made him feel on edge and tense. He had no trouble expressing himself, but he preferred not to give speeches in such environments. Still, knowing there was no way out, he didn’t even try to convince his friend to stay behind. He watched as Jungkook, who had jumped to his feet ahead of him, clapped his hands and quickly left the room. Seokjin, heading out first as well, made Yoongi’s steps feel even slower than usual.
The staff probably hadn’t been expecting someone as young as him, especially considering the significant age gap between him and his father. With no older brother, all the pressure had fallen on Yoongi as the only child. If his father had been able to have a child in his first marriage, the person facing all this tension would have been someone else, and Yoongi would have returned to the peaceful life he had in his studio.
As Yoongi walked from Seokjin’s office towards the main area of the company, he passed by the door to his own office. Looking through the open door, he noticed that the huge mess he had made the other day was gone. Someone had cleaned up everything for him, and Yoongi didn’t want to remember that day at all.
When Yoongi finally noticed that Seokjin and Jungkook had gathered almost all of the staff, he stood behind the crowd, slipping his hand into the pocket of his dress pants. He began mentally preparing for the speech he was about to give. Meanwhile, Seokjin stood on a small platform, looking out at the employees.
"You’ve arrived." Yoongi flinched slightly at the voice that came from beside him, and when he turned to his right, he found himself face-to-face with a yellow-and-black-clad figure, which made him feel a little more at ease. The boy, almost the same height as Yoongi, was standing beside him, looking at him with a knowing gaze. He was dressed in a sporty, black suit, with a coral-colored patterned scarf wrapped around his neck. A pair of stylish earrings added to his intriguing appearance.
His hair, which had been neatly tied back with a cute clip the other day, was now voluminous from a nice blowout, parted to the side with some strands falling onto his forehead. He held a few files and papers in his arms as he observed Yoongi.
"You didn’t stop by my office," he said, his eyes still scanning Yoongi.
"Ah," Yoongi smiled and said, "Good morning to you too. I’ll stop by your office in a bit. I’m just waiting for Seokjin’s speech.”
The young man adjusted his scarf around his neck, inadvertently making his silver necklace more noticeable. "You should be saying Mr. Kim," he muttered. "You need to tell me right now what position Mr. Min hired you for, because it seems like you don’t know much. His son insisted on teaching you a few things before you got to see him like this—“
"And today, Min Yoongi joins us. Yoongi?" Seokjin’s long, unnecessary speech came to an end with the necessary words, and as everyone turned eagerly toward Seokjin to see who he was talking about, they began clapping loudly. His friend, on the other hand, was staring directly into his eyes, waiting for him to step forward.
Yoongi took a deep breath and looked at the kid who would probably be his secretary from now on. "I’m sorry," he said. "I need to give a short speech and introduce myself to everyone, but I’ll find you afterward.”
Although the young man didn’t understand anything at first, when Yoongi left his side and made his way through the crowd directly to Seokjin, climbing the small platform and greeting the employees, his mouth parted in shock. As he looked at his new boss, it was clear to him that Yoongi was smiling at him.
"Hello," Yoongi said in a calm voice. "As you all know, I lost my father a while ago, and I’m sorry I couldn’t join you sooner. I needed some time to process everything, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to manage a company yet. There’s so much I don’t know, and I think I’ll have to learn some things from you."
When he said this, he noticed the young man playing with his scarf, still unable to hide his shock as he stared at him. "For now, I’ll try to adapt to the environment. I might mix up your names or confuse your departments, and give out the wrong tasks—please don’t hesitate to correct me and tell me the right way.”
As all the employees stared at the young man, who looked even younger and definitely more handsome than they had expected, trying to process all the kind things he had said, Seokjin cleared his throat pointedly. Yoongi glanced at him for a brief moment before turning back to the crowd.
"Yes," he continued. "And don’t take advantage of my goodwill, or I might have to get upset and fire you, because I can’t always be this calm.”
As everyone’s shock deepened, Yoongi shook his head and said, "Alright then." He paused before adding, "You can go back to your tasks now. It was a pleasure meeting all of you.”
The crowd nodded understandingly, then quietly returned to their rooms and desks, casting brief glances at Yoongi. Seokjin rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "You can’t be this nice to them." But Yoongi didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, he found himself thinking suddenly about the kid in pajamas—how adorable he had looked in them and how strikingly handsome he was now, in his professional attire.
The kid was still frozen in place, staring at him without moving. "Yah, Min Yoongi! Can you hear me?" Seokjin called out, his voice rising in frustration.
"Hmm," Yoongi tried to brush him off. "I’ll raise my voice a bit later, and they’ll be scared, alright?"
Seokjin widened his eyes and shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "Find the middle ground. Not harsh, not soft. Authoritative, right in the middle.”
"Great." Yoongi stepped down from the platform and, taking advantage of the room clearing out, began heading toward his secretary. As he did, he muttered, "Now leave me alone. I still need to finish talking with my secretary.”
"Oh," Seokjin followed him down the steps and, before heading to his office, murmured, "You didn’t tell me you met Jimin." Yoongi didn’t respond, but at least he smiled contentedly, now that he had heard the kid’s name. He walked over to the young man with black hair and said, "Hey. You mentioned I should visit your office—if now is a good time…"
"Oh my God!" Jimin nearly screamed, just like the other day, causing a few curious eyes to turn their way. "I’m so, so, so, so, so, so sorry! I swear I didn’t know. I had no idea. Really, Mr. Min, I swear I didn’t know you—Oh God..." He shut his eyes and bowed his head with a look on his face as if he were about to cry. Yoongi couldn’t even begin to guess what was going through his mind. "The curses I said, the things I—" Jimin’s words were barely audible. "If you’re going to fire me now, I really understand, I’m such an idiot—“
"Jimin." Yoongi raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with a curious expression as he observed his reactions. "Why would I do something like that?”
"Because I definitely said some unforgivable things, I was a bit harsh, and I thought you were security. I gave orders and—And—Ah-" He groaned, his shoulders slumping as Yoongi couldn't help but find him endearing again. "And you even took us to the hospital, and… The coffee! You got me coffee and I didn’t even thank you, I’m such an idiot. I said so many things to you, I’m really sorry.”
"Hey." Yoongi interrupted with a firm tone, causing the black-haired man to stop and glance at him with a shy look. "There's no need to be sorry. I hit your friend's head with a fire extinguisher, Jimin. I get why you were freaking out, alright? I don't care about what you said, and I’m not going to fire you.”
"Really?" Jimin asked, his face showing hesitation and his lips trembling slightly.
"Really." Yoongi nodded, confirming with a small smile. "Now, maybe you can make it up to me by bringing me a black coffee and listing all the damn things I need to do today.”
Jimin noticeably took a deep and relaxing breath, quickly nodding with a bright smile. "Right away, sir."
Yoongi, unaware of the large smile spreading across his lips, watched Jimin rush off. He was also oblivious to the curious glances from a few employees. It wasn’t until Jungkook approached him with furrowed brows, asking why he was standing there in the middle of the office, that Yoongi finally turned away from watching his secretary and made his way to his office. A short break to rest his eyes would be a good idea while waiting for his coffee.