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Fifteen years ago, Soonyoung and Jihoon were inseparable. They sat together in class, ate lunch side by side, and somehow always found themselves tangled in each other’s antics. Soonyoung was loud and full of life, while Jihoon—quieter and more reserved—somehow managed to keep up with him.
But Jihoon wasn’t just keeping up. He was trying.
Because for him, Soonyoung wasn’t just his best friend—he was his first love.
Jihoon knew it was hopeless, though. Soonyoung was friendly with everyone, always throwing around affectionate words and playful touches like they meant nothing. And Jihoon, as much as he wished otherwise, knew better than to read into it.
So when Soonyoung draped an arm around his shoulders and grinned at their classmates, declaring, “Jihoon’s basically my wife,” Jihoon only rolled his eyes. When Soonyoung leaned in too close, spouting a ridiculous pickup line, Jihoon pushed him away with a scoff.
He pretended it didn’t sting.
And Soonyoung? He never noticed.
Because, unknown to Jihoon, Soonyoung had once felt the same way.
But the fear of ruining their friendship had stopped him from ever considering it seriously. So instead, he hid behind the jokes, convinced it was safer that way.
Like that one time at the gym.
Everyone was taking a break, sitting around and catching their breath, when Soonyoung suddenly turned to Jihoon with a dramatic sigh.
“Lee Jihoon, Lee Jihoon. I really hate your surname—”
Jihoon barely had time to glare before cutting him off. “What the—listen here, you little—”
“Let’s change it to mine. Kwon Jihoon.”
Laughter roared through the gym. Jihoon’s face turned scarlet, his heart thumping so loud he swore the whole room could hear it. And before he could think, he was grabbing his bat from the corner and charging at Soonyoung.
“You little shit—come here!”
Soonyoung yelped, scrambling to escape, tripping as he ran for his life. Their classmates howled, some egging Jihoon on, others shielding Soonyoung like he was some prized treasure.
Jihoon never did catch him that day.
And that night, when he lay in bed, replaying the moment over and over in his head, he wished—just for a second—that Soonyoung actually meant it.
Lee Chan had always been ambitious, and landing an internship at PLDS felt like a golden ticket. Everyone said that if he could survive here, he could climb the corporate ladder anywhere. So, when he passed the interview, he didn't hesitate to accept the offer.
His first day, however, was far from thrilling. He was assigned to Boo Seungkwan, the COO’s secretary, for training. Except, instead of deep insights into the inner workings of the company, Seungkwan mostly taught him how to blend coffee to the CEO’s exact preference, how to use the office’s temperamental copy machine, and—most importantly—how to arrange reports according to the COO’s very particular standards.
“This part is crucial,” Seungkwan emphasized, watching as Chan carefully took notes. “Mr. Lee has a specific way he wants things done. It’s not hard, but if you mess it up, you’ll regret it.”
Intrigued, Chan leaned in during their lunch break. “Is the COO scary?”
Seungkwan looked up from his meal and scoffed. “Not at all. I call him ‘Jihoon-hyung,’ and he’s honestly very sweet and softhearted. But,” he added, pointing a finger at Chan for emphasis, “he takes work seriously. If you slack off, you’ll hear about it. And he absolutely hates being made fun of by the CEO.”
Chan furrowed his brows. “Wait… the CEO makes fun of Mr. Lee?”
“Oh, all the time,” Seungkwan said matter-of-factly. Then, as if realizing something, he smirked. “Those two have a past.”
“A past as in… a misunderstanding or a relationship?”
Seungkwan opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, the door to the COO’s office swung open with a loud bang.
“That fucker,” Mr. Lee spat, storming out and slamming the door behind him.
Seungkwan immediately jumped up from his seat to tend to him but not before leaning down to whisper to Chan, “Both.”
Soonyoung met Jihoon’s younger brother, Seokmin. And just like that, they clicked.
It started with playful banter, the kind Soonyoung always enjoyed, but before long, they had developed a running joke—calling each other “husband” in front of their friends, bickering like an old married couple. Seokmin played along effortlessly, and Soonyoung, being the same carefree person he always was, never thought much of it.
But Jihoon did.
At first, he told himself it was nothing. He had long accepted that Soonyoung’s teasing never really meant anything. He had been foolish to think otherwise.
And yet, when Soonyoung casually asked for permission to court Seokmin, Jihoon felt something twist painfully in his chest.
“No.”
Soonyoung blinked. “No?”
“No.”
Soonyoung laughed. “Why? You think your little brother is too good for me?”
“Yes.”
Jihoon walked away before he could say something worse, before his emotions could betray him. It was selfish, he knew that, but the thought of losing Soonyoung—even if he was never his to begin with—was unbearable.
That didn’t stop Soonyoung, though.
Since Seungkwan was Seokmin’s best friend, he started passing his gifts through him. It became a routine—flowers, snacks, little notes, all meant for Seokmin, all meant to get past Jihoon’s watchful eye. But Jihoon noticed. Of course, he noticed.
And with every little reminder of Soonyoung’s growing affection for his brother, Jihoon pulled away.
Soonyoung didn’t understand at first. Jihoon had always been there—his best friend, his partner in crime, the person who knew him best. But now, Jihoon barely spoke to him outside of class. He stopped showing up to their usual hangouts. The absence was loud, and it left Soonyoung restless, unsettled.
Why did it hurt so much?
Then one night, Seokmin pulled Seungkwan aside, his voice unusually quiet.
“Hyung has been crying.”
Seungkwan frowned. “What?”
“At night. He tries to be quiet, but I can hear him.” Seokmin shifted uncomfortably. “I think it started when I started going on dates with Soonyoung.”
Seungkwan’s breath hitched. “Seokmin…”
“I know,” Seokmin murmured. “I’ve known for a while now.”
Seungkwan didn’t have to ask what he meant.
Seokmin had always liked Soonyoung, but never in the way Soonyoung probably wanted. Their dates had been lighthearted, casual—Seokmin had kept it that way on purpose. Because deep down, he knew.
So, he turned Soonyoung down.
And to Soonyoung’s surprise, it didn’t hurt.
It didn’t even feel like rejection.
Because as he walked home that night, thinking about Jihoon—the way Jihoon always made sure he ate after practice, how he would push Soonyoung’s head down on the desk when he fell asleep in class so he wouldn’t strain his neck, how he always, always went along with Soonyoung’s antics no matter how ridiculous—he realized something.
He never had feelings for Seokmin.
He had just been chasing a version of Jihoon that he thought he could have.
It had always been Jihoon.
On Chan’s third day of internship, he was assigned to clean the COO’s desk. “Clean” in this case didn’t mean wiping down surfaces or dusting shelves—it meant sorting through the towering stacks of papers and making sure they were filed correctly. Everything was already labeled; he just had to ensure each document ended up where it belonged.
He worked quietly, focused on the task, when he came across a small, unassuming box.
Chan knew exactly what was inside. Seungkwan had mentioned it before—the COO kept a collection of index cards and notepads inside this box, a private to-do list system. Jihoon hated posting reminders where others could see them, especially since some contained sensitive company matters. Instead, he wrote them down on cards and stored them here. Chan’s job was simple: remove the post-its or index cards that had been crossed out and shred them.
He started sorting, separating the ones to keep from the ones to discard, when something unusual caught his eye.
Scattered among the standard to-do lists were post-its cut into the shape of stars.
Curious, Chan picked one up. The handwriting was different from Jihoon’s—more playful, more rounded. He read the first note:
“Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.”
Chan blinked. A cheesy pickup line? He grabbed another.
“Please take care of yourself. Come to my office if you need meds.”
The next one nearly made him choke.
“I swear your ass deserves a bonus. Just saying.”
Chan bit back a laugh before reading the last one.
“You and I are like parallel lines… always close but never meant to cross. Except I refuse to accept that.”
Each note was signed the same way: Hoshi.
Chan tilted his head. Hoshi—the Japanese word for star. His eyes flickered back to the star-shaped notes.
Whoever this Hoshi guy was, he was completely and utterly down bad for the COO.
And honestly? Chan thought it was kind of cute.
Soonyoung was determined to win Jihoon back.
It started with the little things—waiting for him after class, walking with him even when Jihoon didn’t acknowledge his presence, cracking jokes just to get a reaction. But Jihoon misunderstood.
Of course, he did.
To Jihoon, it was obvious. Soonyoung had only ever chased after him when Seokmin was involved, so why would this be any different? Jihoon wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t fall for whatever plan Soonyoung had to get close to his brother again.
So he shut him out completely.
“I have nothing to do with you.”
It was the coldest Jihoon had ever been to him, but instead of backing off, Soonyoung only got more persistent. If Jihoon ignored him, Soonyoung would double his efforts. He started leaving snacks on Jihoon’s desk, scribbling silly notes on post-its. He complimented Jihoon every chance he got. When that didn’t work, he tried annoying him instead.
He started challenging Jihoon in class, answering before he could, finishing assignments faster, getting better scores. He even wrote Jihoon love letters just to see him fume, shoving them into his locker along with little gifts.
Jihoon wanted to kill him.
But since he couldn’t make Soonyoung disappear without getting arrested, he settled for the next best thing—beating him at his own game.
It would’ve been easy. Jihoon was sharp, efficient, and rarely failed at anything. But there was one problem.
Soonyoung was an overachiever without even trying.
No matter how much effort Jihoon put in, Soonyoung always stayed one step ahead.
And it didn’t stop after high school.
They ended up in the same college. Took the same degree.
By pure chance—or maybe pure bad luck—they were placed in the same thesis group.
Then, they both landed internships at PLDS, passed the interviews, and got absorbed into the company.
And of course—of course—Soonyoung climbed the ranks first.
When he was promoted to CEO, Jihoon was promoted to COO.
For years, their rivalry had fueled them both, but in the end, Soonyoung was still leading. And yet, despite their competitive streak, they worked well together. Jihoon hated to admit it, but Soonyoung was an incredible leader.
And just like before, no matter how much they fought, no matter how much Jihoon wanted to push him away, Soonyoung always stayed close. Always found his way back.
Their dynamic returned to what it once was—Soonyoung being his usual goofy self, Jihoon being his best partner.
And maybe, just maybe, Jihoon was finally starting to let him back in.
The dynamic between Chan’s superiors was strange—no, it was downright confusing.
One day, he’d hear them flirting (was it even flirting?), and the next, he’d hear a string of expletives—mostly from the COO. The first time Chan witnessed it, he had no idea how to react.
Like today, for example.
Chan was inside Soonyoung’s office, copying some files from the CEO’s laptop because Seokmin had asked him to. Meanwhile, Soonyoung and Jihoon were at the desk in the middle of the office, deep in discussion. Well, Jihoon was deep in discussion.
Chan could hear him going over recent data from HR, outlining potential projects for Talent Acquisition. It was a serious matter, something that required focus and professionalism. Jihoon, ever the perfectionist, explained everything in detail, waiting for Soonyoung’s input.
But Soonyoung, of course, was silent.
Jihoon sighed, already sounding exasperated. “Did you even understand what I just said, Kwon?”
Soonyoung cleared his throat. “I definitely agree with all those ideas, especially if they’re coming from that beautiful mouth of yours.”
There was a beat of silence. Then—
“Ugh, fuck me,” Jihoon groaned in frustration.
Chan froze, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Jihoon must have realized how that sounded because his voice turned sharp. “Be serious for once, please?”
“I’d be glad to partake in the first part of what you just said.”
Chan choked on his own breath.
A loud scraping sound filled the room—probably Jihoon pushing his chair back aggressively. “I swear to god, I’m going to strangle you.”
Soonyoung only laughed. “Didn’t know you were into things like that, babe.”
Chan had to physically stop himself from turning around to watch the scene unfold.
To say he was amused was an understatement.
Not too long after, Chan finally figured out who this mysterious "Hoshi" guy was.
It happened on a late night at the office, when Jihoon, despite being sick, refused to take a break. Seungkwan had enlisted Chan’s help because Jihoon wasn’t even stopping to breathe between tasks. He sat slumped in his chair, a cold patch stuck to his forehead—Seokmin’s doing—his face pale and exhausted. Chan had checked on him earlier, and the guy was definitely running a fever. But Jihoon being Jihoon, he still insisted on working.
Seungkwan was talking to Joshua about something related to Client Success when Soonyoung walked in. Unlike his usual loud entrances, this time, he headed straight for Jihoon’s desk without a word.
Chan tried not to stare. He really did. But his desk had zero cover, and from where he sat, he had a direct view of Jihoon’s workspace. So, he focused on his computer, pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping while their whispered conversation carried through the quiet office.
“Love, have you taken your meds?”
Chan blinked. Love?
“Go away, Hoshi.” Jihoon’s voice was weak but still filled with irritation.
Chan froze. Hoshi?
Soonyoung—or Hoshi—sighed, but there was an undeniable softness in his tone. “If you don’t go to the infirmary, I’m not letting you come to work tomorrow.”
Jihoon groaned. “We’ll have too many backlogs if I don’t work.”
“I don’t care,” Soonyoung replied without hesitation. “You’re more important.”
Chan peeked up in time to see Jihoon glance away, looking just a little flustered. “I’ll be fine as long as I finish everything tonight.”
Soonyoung sighed, clearly exasperated, but he switched tactics. “Fine. If you won’t go home, at least work in my office. I’ve got a reclining armchair. You can sit there and rest while you work. Deal?”
Jihoon muttered something Chan didn’t quite catch, but after a bit more coaxing—or maybe just to get Soonyoung to shut up—he finally relented. Slowly, he stood up, his balance unsteady. Soonyoung was already there, offering his hand without a second thought. Jihoon hesitated for half a second before taking it, allowing Soonyoung to lead him out of the office.
Chan stared at their retreating backs.
Well.
He had to admit—they looked good together.
Jihoon and Soonyoung’s relationship was going great—better than great, actually. They spent more time together, sharing lunch breaks, going out to eat dinner after office hours, and even hanging out at Jihoon’s apartment on weekends. Sometimes, they’d watch movies; other times, Soonyoung would challenge Jihoon to video games on his PS5, only to whine dramatically when he lost. Their dynamic felt effortless, comfortable—almost like they had finally found their rhythm.
But then Seokmin and Seungkwan joined the company as interns. A few months later, they became secretaries, and everything shifted.
Jihoon had assumed that Soonyoung, as CEO, had no hand in deciding their placements. But when he learned that Soonyoung had personally chosen Seokmin as his secretary, something in him froze. Old insecurities resurfaced before he could stop them. He told himself he didn’t care—that it didn’t matter—but his mind kept whispering the same thing: Soonyoung picked Seokmin.
It was ridiculous. He knew that. Years had passed but no matter how much he tried to brush it off, the thought lingered.
And so, without meaning to, Jihoon started retreating.
At first, it was subtle—rescheduling their usual dinner plans, making excuses when Soonyoung invited him over, putting a little more space between them during lunch. But Soonyoung noticed. Of course, he noticed. He always did.
Meanwhile, Soonyoung, completely unaware of Jihoon’s thoughts, had simply chosen Seokmin because it made the most sense. Seungkwan was sharp, detail-oriented, and had a way of handling Jihoon’s temper that no one else could. Naturally, he was a perfect fit as Jihoon’s secretary. Seokmin, on the other hand, was adaptable, sociable, and worked well under pressure, making him ideal for Soonyoung.
It was a logical decision. A practical one.
But logic didn’t matter when Jihoon’s heart was already convinced otherwise.
And just like that, they were back to square one.
Within just two months at the company, Chan could already see what Seungkwan had meant when he said Jihoon and Soonyoung had a "past" filled with misunderstandings and unresolved history. It was subtle at first—small things, like the way Jihoon seemed to unconsciously tense when Soonyoung walked into a room, or the way Soonyoung's usual easygoing demeanor shifted slightly whenever Jihoon was near.
But soon, it became impossible to ignore.
Jihoon-hyung, as Chan was now allowed to call him, was incredibly kind and affectionate to his subordinates. He was patient when explaining things, attentive to details, and always made sure his team was well taken care of. But when it came to Soonyoung, that warmth turned to ice. He never outright snapped at him, nor did he blatantly ignore him, but it was clear that he was avoiding any interaction that wasn’t strictly work-related.
Even during company events that were supposed to be casual and fun, Jihoon and Soonyoung somehow found ways to keep their distance, making their strained dynamic painfully obvious to everyone around them.
Chan could recall three instances in particular that cemented this.
The first was at a corporate retreat that was meant to encourage teamwork. It was a lively event, filled with games and exercises designed to build trust between employees. Naturally, Soonyoung thrived in this kind of environment, enthusiastically participating in every activity. Jihoon, on the other hand, had clearly planned to sit out as much as possible.
That plan was shattered when HR announced a paired trust exercise. Employees were quickly matching up, and Jihoon made a beeline for Seungkwan, only to find him already partnered with Joshua.
Before Jihoon could react, Soonyoung appeared beside him with a grin. "Guess it’s you and me, Ji—"
"I need to check on something," Jihoon interrupted, already turning on his heel. He walked straight to Chan, casually resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, switch with me?"
Chan blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, I—"
Before he could even formulate a response, Jihoon grabbed his things and walked away, leaving Soonyoung standing there, lips pressed into a thin line.
Seungkwan, watching the entire exchange, sighed dramatically. "This is getting ridiculous."
The second instance was at a high-profile industry gala where all executives were expected to attend and represent the company. Jihoon had planned to slip in, fulfill his obligations, and leave as soon as possible. But that became difficult when the event organizers called for a group photo, directing company leaders to stand together.
Jihoon was subtly maneuvered next to Soonyoung, panic flickering in his chest. He considered stepping aside, but Seungkwan—standing a few feet away—was watching him like a hawk, daring him to behave. With no choice, Jihoon took his place, stiff as a board.
Then, just as the photographer was about to take the shot, Soonyoung’s hand found Jihoon’s waist, gently nudging him closer.
Jihoon immediately stepped forward, creating an obvious space between them.
Soonyoung exhaled a short laugh. "You’re really committed to this, huh?"
Jihoon kept his gaze ahead. "Committed to what?"
"Running away," Soonyoung said lightly, though there was something unreadable in his tone.
Jihoon clenched his jaw, but before he could respond, the camera flashed, capturing the tension between them for everyone to see.
The third and most recent instance was at a company dinner celebrating a successful quarter. The restaurant was lively with conversation and laughter, yet once again, Jihoon and Soonyoung sat on opposite ends of the table.
It was obvious that Jihoon had planned his arrival carefully. He came late, ensuring that he wouldn’t be seated near Soonyoung. Instead, he settled beside Seungkwan, strategically placing Seokmin and Joshua between himself and the CEO.
Soonyoung had visibly stiffened when Jihoon walked in, but he quickly masked it with a laugh, returning to his conversation with Chan. If the avoidance bothered him, he didn’t show it—at least, not outwardly.
Seokmin attempted to bridge the gap. "Hyung, you should try this," he said cheerfully, holding up a forkful of cake. "Soonyoung-hyung said it’s really good."
Jihoon barely spared the cake a glance before coolly replying, "Can I get a different dessert?"
Seungkwan nearly choked on his drink. Soonyoung, who had been in the middle of taking a sip of his own, let out an amused huff. He shook his head and muttered, "Unbelievable," before taking another bite of his cake, refusing to meet Jihoon’s gaze.
At this point, Chan was convinced—whatever had happened between them wasn’t just a simple misunderstanding. It was deep-rooted, something neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Jihoon was determined to keep his distance, and Soonyoung was just as determined to act like it didn’t affect him.
But the tension?
It was suffocating.
Chan had a feeling that someone was bound to snap.
And, indeed, It was bound to happen.
For months, Jihoon and Soonyoung had been dancing around each other, their interactions stiff and calculated, their avoidance painfully obvious. But no one expected them to snap in the middle of the office.
Chan had been going about his usual tasks, sorting through a stack of documents under Seungkwan’s supervision, when the unmistakable sound of raised voices carried through the hallway. It wasn’t the usual work-related tension—no, this was different. This was personal.
“You can’t keep doing this to me!”
Jihoon’s voice was raw, filled with frustration and something dangerously close to hurt.
“I’ve been telling you that I love you for years now. Why won’t you listen?!”
Soonyoung’s words followed, sharp and unfiltered, echoing through the office space.
Chan’s hands froze over the papers he was organizing. He slowly looked up at Seungkwan, who had stopped mid-motion, one eyebrow twitching.
“Soonyoung, I—”
Then, a loud slam cut off Jihoon’s response. The sound of a door shutting so forcefully that even the glass windows trembled.
For a moment, everything was silent. No one dared to breathe too loudly, as if the tension from the argument still lingered in the air.
Then, Seungkwan let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head as he resumed stacking papers. “Honestly? It’s really complicated but pathetic, in my opinion.”
Chan, still reeling, turned to him with wide eyes. “May I know why?”
Seungkwan pressed his lips together, clearly debating how much he should say before finally exhaling in resignation. “It’s not just those two idiots that have a past,” he muttered, dropping a file onto the desk with a thud. “Soonyoung-hyung also has a past with his secretary—Lee Seokmin.”
Chan frowned. “Okay… and?”
Seungkwan gave him a deadpan look. “Lee Seokmin, who also happens to be Jihoon-hyung’s little brother.”
Chan blinked. Once. Twice. His mind immediately went to Seokmin and—“Wait, but isn’t Seokmin-hyung dating Joshua-hyung?”
Seungkwan nodded as if this wasn’t even the biggest mess of it all. “Yeah. Jihoon-hyung knows it. Has known it from the start, actually.”
Chan’s confusion deepened. “Then why—”
“He’s stubborn,” Seungkwan cut in, shaking his head. “Jihoon-hyung is still stuck in the past. Soonyoung-hyung never even kissed Seokmin, never dated him, nothing. The whole thing was a misunderstanding, but Jihoon-hyung can’t let it go.”
Chan hesitated, his brain still trying to piece everything together. “So… if they were never a thing, then…”
Seungkwan glanced toward the closed office door where Soonyoung and Jihoon had been arguing moments ago. His voice was quieter now, but firm.
“Soonyoung-hyung and Jihoon-hyung were each other’s first kiss and first love.”
Chan’s mouth fell open slightly, but no words came out.
Oh.
This internship was turning out to be far more dramatic than he had ever expected.
Lee Seokmin had finally reached his limit. After watching Jihoon and Soonyoung play the most ridiculous game of avoidance, he stormed into the COO’s office, completely ignoring Seungkwan and Chan’s startled looks.
“Can’t the both of you just… kiss or something?!” he burst out, exasperated.
Jihoon, who had been reviewing reports with laser focus, barely spared him a glance. “Get out.”
But Seokmin wasn’t going anywhere.
Ever since that overheard argument, Jihoon had been doing everything in his power to avoid the CEO. He refused to step foot in Soonyoung’s office unless absolutely necessary, sending Seungkwan or Chan in his place for report submissions and feedback exchanges. It was causing more problems than it solved—because, let’s face it, no one could communicate Jihoon’s thoughts as well as Jihoon himself. Misunderstandings were piling up, and even though the company wasn’t exactly falling apart, their closest colleagues were feeling the strain.
To make things worse, Soonyoung seemed to be giving Jihoon space, which only made the tension worse. No lingering glances. No sneaky remarks. No ridiculous grand gestures. Just… silence.
Chan, who had been trying to stay out of the drama, had to give them credit—at least they hadn’t burned the company to the ground yet. But at this rate, it was only a matter of time.
“Shut it, Seok,” Seungkwan suddenly snapped, his patience also running thin. “He’s got his head so far up his ass, he won’t even process what you’re saying.”
Chan shivered. It was rare to hear Seungkwan speak to Jihoon like that.
And just as Seokmin and Seungkwan seemed ready to start a full-blown shouting match in the middle of the office, Jihoon suddenly stood up. Without a word, he turned and marched straight towards the CEO’s office.
The room fell silent.
Seokmin blinked. “Wait. Is he actually—?”
Seungkwan crossed his arms, smirking. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
Chan, for once, had no words. He just prayed that by the end of the day, the company would still be standing.
To everyone’s shock, after Jihoon finally spoke to Soonyoung, there was no dramatic confrontation, no sudden reconciliation, no passionate kiss to seal the moment.
Instead, Jihoon resigned as COO.
The news left the entire company in stunned silence.
Chan, with barely a month left in his internship, was hit with another surprise—he had been offered a full-time position as Seungkwan’s secretary. And why? Because Seungkwan was stepping up as the next COO.
Of course, Chan was thrilled, but due to Jihoon’s abrupt departure, he couldn’t bring himself to celebrate. It didn’t feel right. Jihoon had built this company alongside Soonyoung—how could he just leave?
Even Seokmin, Jihoon’s own brother, had been blindsided. If his own family hadn’t seen this coming, then what chance did Chan have at understanding it?
And yet… as much as Chan wanted answers, he couldn't bring himself to ask.
But, as his grandmother always said, "everything takes time."
And on Jihoon’s last day, Chan’s questions would finally be answered.
The atmosphere in the pantry was surprisingly light.
Jihoon’s team, though still emotional over his departure, had already gone through their teary goodbyes on the day he announced his resignation. Even so, Seungkwan was crying again.
“You’re still gonna see me literally every day, Seungkwan-ah,” Jihoon grumbled, handing him a tissue.
“You don’t know that,” Seungkwan sniffled dramatically. “What if you move to the countryside and become a hermit? What if you disappear and we never see you again?”
Jihoon rolled his eyes. “I’m not dying, you idiot.”
Chan smiled softly as he watched them, feeling both sad and hopeful. A part of him had a strange certainty—this wasn’t the last time he’d see Jihoon.
And then the door opened.
The CEO entered.
A palpable shift filled the room. Laughter quieted; movements stilled.
"Mr. Lee."
Chan tensed. Not Love. Not Darling. Not Baby. Not Jihoonie. Not Jihoon. Not everything that he has been calling Jihoon all these times.
Just… Mr. Lee.
Jihoon stood, about to bow out of habit, when—
"I really hate your surname."
Silence.
Chan froze. That was… uncalled for.
Jihoon straightened immediately, his expression shifting into offended outrage. “What the—listen here, you little…”
And then he stopped.
Because Soonyoung had dropped to one knee.
And in his hand, was a ring. Gasps erupted around the room. Even Seungkwan stopped crying.
Soonyoung looked up, eyes full of certainty.
“Let’s change it to mine.”
A soft smile tugged at his lips.
“Kwon Jihoon.”
Chan swore he saw every shade of red cross Jihoon’s face.
That day had been shocking—Jihoon resigning, Soonyoung proposing—but as the years passed, the details of what truly happened remained a mystery to Chan.
It wasn’t until two years later that he finally got the full picture.
Apparently, after Seokmin’s outburst, Jihoon went to Soonyoung’s office to ask if he was serious with his previous confession. Soonyoung, without hesitation, had said, "Yes. I love you. I always have."
And just like that, Jihoon handed in his resignation.
His reasoning? He didn’t want to tarnish the company or Soonyoung’s reputation. (He finally said YES to officially dating him!)
Soonyoung could have argued, could have fought for them right then and there, but he didn’t. Because he knew Jihoon—knew that once his mind was made up, nothing could change it.
So instead, he let Jihoon walk away.
And then, Soonyoung realized something. Jihoon had loved him all along, even if he never said it.
Soonyoung had been so certain of his own feelings, but now, he was certain of Jihoon’s too. And that was enough for him to know.
He wanted to be with Jihoon forever.
So, before Jihoon could leave for good, he dropped down on one knee and asked him to stay—not in the company, but in his life.
And now, here Chan was—standing beside Soonyoung as his best man. (He just wanted to be a groomsman, really, but Soonyoung insisted. Something about how Seungkwan and Seokmin would probably kill each other if they had to fight for the position.)
So, here he was.
Standing beside the most ridiculous yet undeniably fated couple he had ever met. Tearing up, along with Seokmin and Seungkwan, as Jihoon and Soonyoung exchanged their vows.
Jihoon stood before Soonyoung, dressed in the softest shade of ivory, sporting an undeniable mix of nervousness and affection.
Soonyoung, as always, was beaming at him like he was the only thing that existed.
And then—
Soonyoung spoke.
“My love,” he began, eyes never leaving Jihoon’s, “since high school, you called me Hoshi—because you said I was a star. A Sun, because the Sun is a star, and I always light up everyone’s world.”
Chan could see the guests smiling fondly, but Soonyoung’s gaze remained steady.
“But what I never told you,” he continued, “is that a star—no matter how bright—has no purpose without its universe…”
Jihoon looks up at Soonyoung.
“You are my universe, Jihoon,” Soonyoung whispered, squeezing his hands. “You are the sky I shine for, the gravity that keeps me from drifting away. Without you, I am just burning endlessly with nowhere to belong.”
Chan heard Seungkwan sniffle beside him.
Seokmin full-on sobbed into his sleeve.
Even Jihoon looked like he was struggling to hold himself together.
Soonyoung took a deep breath before delivering the final blow to everyone’s emotions.
“So, let me be yours forever.” His voice was gentle. “Let me shine for you, with you, only you.”
Jihoon stared at him, red-rimmed eyes and stunned, before finally breaking into the softest, most exasperated smile.
“You’re so cheesy,” Jihoon muttered, voice shaky, but full of love.
Soonyoung just grinned. “And you love me for it.”
And as Jihoon leaned in and kissed him, sealing his vow not with words but with everything he ever felt, Chan swore he could hear Seungkwan whisper—
“About damn time.”