Work Text:
May 7th, 2026.
“Happy birthday, Sanghyeok-ah.”
Three words he had expected to hear that day, and he did hear them, echoed over and over and over again, from phone calls with distant relatives to office co-workers to higher-ups that definitely received some sort of notification and otherwise would’ve said nothing.
“I hate you.”
Three words Sanghyeok had never expected to hear ever, least of all on that day, and yet he did hear them, echoing around his brain over and over and over again. His steady breathing stuttered as he locked eyes with the man who had voiced the thought, shakily demanding, “What did you just say?”
Kim Hyukkyu looked back at him, expression perturbed but not nearly as much as Sanghyeok was. Or maybe he was exactly as perturbed as Sanghyeok, but less of it shone through to his expression; Hyukkyu had always been somewhat stonefaced.
“I said ‘happy birthday’. Is something wrong?”
Sanghyeok shook his head. Maybe he’d imagined it. It was a very un-Hyukkyu-like thing to say something so abrasive. Sanghyeok would know. They’d known each other for over fourteen years, since secondary school, and while they had never been particularly close at any point in that window – not after graduating together, not after reuniting as co-workers in the same office, not even when Hyukkyu got promoted to a project manager within Sanghyeok’s division – Sanghyeok still knew him, or so he thought.
Why would Hyukkyu hate him?
Hyukkyu angled his body further, clutching his paperwork to the front of his charcoal-grey suit. “Are you feeling alright? You’ve paled.”
Clearing his throat, Sanghyeok straightened his bright red tie. “I’m fine, just a bit tired, I think. Thank you for your concern, Hyukkyu-yah.” He kept his voice professional, making a hasty retreat to the office bathroom to gather himself.
Staring at his reflection in the poor-quality overhead lighting, Sanghyeok still heard the words on repeat, spoken softly, lethally, and definitely in Hyukkyu’s voice.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
He splashed sink water in his face, but couldn't wash off the sting.
Sanghyeok was probably the least drunk person at his birthday party, though he was making some effort to change that. As the juniors of his department loudly socialized and belted karaoke with no backing, he quietly sat alone, nursing his drink.
Eventually, Minseok noticed and stumbled his way over, putting on his cutest pout. “Why’s the birthday boy sulking all alone?”
Actually, Minseok might be able to answer that question for him; he’d worked under Hyukkyu for a year before transferring to Sanghyeok’s personal cohort, and the two seemed rather close.
“Minseokie,” Sanghyeok launched melodramatically, “why does your Hyukkyu hyung hate me?”
Minseok processed the words on a short delay, like a toaster that suddenly burst forth with wild laughter. “What happened?” he howled, “What did you do? Did he say he hated you to his face?”
“I think so, yeah,” Sanghyeok marveled, “but he denied it right after, so maybe I was hearing things.”
“Nope, he definitely said it,” Minseok slurred, “Man, that’s amazing. Wish I could’ve been there to see it.”
Minseok reached out to pat Sanghyeok on the shoulder, and that was when he heard it:
“-really wish Minhyung was here right now.”
Sanghyeok frowned at Minseok’s unprompted confession. “We can invite Minhyung. I’ll call him.”
Minseok shot up, eyes wide and startled. “Who said anything about Minhyung?”
“You did, just now,” Sanghyeok insisted. “You said you really wished he was here.”
Running his hands over his face, Minseok grumbled something about being too drunk, concluding, “Forget it, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
The wheels in Sanghyeok’s head started turning – it was far from the first time that day that someone had accidentally said something aloud, from the normally polite manager who grumbled he didn’t care about Sanghyeok’s birthday to all the elicit details of one secretary’s weekend plans to the bafflingly complicated fan fiction plot one of his underlings was assembling during business hours. And then, of course, there was Hyukkyu.
Resolved to test his theory, Sanghyeok whipped out his phone, calling up someone he knew he could trust to conduct the subsequent test.
“Hanwha Life Insurance, this is Han Wangho speaking.”
“Wangho-yah,” Sanghyeok pleaded.
“Sanghyeokie! Happy birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make the party – you know how business is.”
“I need you to think something really nasty right now.”
“I’m… sorry?”
“Just do it,” Sanghyeok urged, “Think something mean or uncouth that you wouldn’t want me to hear-”
“Your idea of dirty talk has gotten a lot worse,” Wangho notified unsympathetically.
“You aren’t supposed to say it aloud,” Sanghyeok huffed. “Just think it. I’m trying to test something.”
“Are you trying to test if you’re drunk? Because I think I can answer that for you.”
“Wangho-yahhhh…”
“Fine. I’m thinking of something.”
The line went silent. Wangho’s voice said nothing, not in Sanghyeok’s head, not in Sanghyeok’s ear, nowhere.
Sanghyeok groaned with embarrassment.
“Anything?” Wangho checked.
“No…” he admitted, “sorry to bother you.”
“Make sure you drink some water and get some rest, okay? It is still a weeknight.”
“You have no right to tell me that, after all the bars I’ve dragged you out of-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Good night, Sanghyeok-ah. Happy birthday.”
Sanghyeok buried his flushed face in his hands. Maybe he was just imagining it.
He ordered another drink, and when he heard the waitress remark on how hot he looked while handing over his glass, Sanghyeok figured she was just being forward.
Sanghyeok awoke the following morning to a flood of emails from his underlings calling out sick for the day, which was a truly poor sort of birthday gift – getting wasted on their boss’s dime and then forcing him to cover for them the following morning.
The office was still full of people from other floors, such that Sanghyeok had to squeeze himself onto the elevator. Right as it was about to depart, one final person parted the doors and wormed their way in next to him.
It was none other than Kim Hyukkyu.
He wore a lighter grey suit than the one he did yesterday, a crisp white collar underneath and no tie. He probably wasn’t meeting with clients today.
Sanghyeok wore his navy blazer with the faint plaid patterning and a fit adorned with black suspenders and sleeve garters underneath.
As the crowd clumped in closer, Hyukkyu’s sleeve pressed into his.
“He’s looking sharp as always today,” Hyukkyu’s voice noted. This time, Sanghyeok paid special attention to the other man’s lips, confirming that they didn’t move once. “I wonder where he got that suit.”
Sanghyeok straightened his posture. Either Hyukkyu had recently taken up ventriloquy and excessive complimenting, or Sanghyeok was reading his mind.
Hyukkyu raised his eyebrows suddenly. “Is there something on my face?”
Realizing his staring and panicking, Sanghyeok blurted, “Ralph Lauren.”
“Eh?”
“The suit,” Sanghyeok recovered, “It’s Ralph Lauren.” Sheepishly, he added, “I noticed you staring.”
Hyukkyu nodded, lips pressed together thinly. “I see. Very impressive.”
“I could recommend you a tailor if you’d like,” he offered. “I’m sure they have a few designs that would suit your style.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Hyukkyu stated formally. In his head, however, he added, “He must think we all get paid the same excessive amount as him.”
Sanghyeok startled backward, floundering to correct his mistake, but evidently too obvious with his panic.
“Are you alright?” Hyukkyu offered. His expression seemed concerned, but he was probably thinking how he wished Sanghyeok would have a stroke and die already.
That was when it occurred to Sanghyeok: after he pulled away, he could no longer hear Hyukkyu’s thoughts.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he dismissed, thinking through the implications. Was it a proximity thing? No – he’d been within this distance of any number of people over the past 24 hours, and he hadn’t heard all of their thoughts. Maybe it went one step further, then.
Under the guise of gripping the handrail, Sanghyeok slid his hand forward until it was nudging the sleeve of the man in front of him. Instantly, he heard-
“but if I eat the leftover chicken tonight, I’ll be left with the ramyun-”
He withdrew his hand. The voice stopped.
Contact. To read someone’s mind, he needed to maintain physical contact. That’s why it hadn’t worked over the phone.
It didn’t need to be skin-on-skin; clothes counted, too. Thinking back on it, objects held by both people also counted: he’d first gotten into Hyukkyu’s mind by exchanging documents.
To test his theory, he tried to subtly touch a young lady’s purse while out walking on his break that day. Instantly, he heard that lady think,
“Oh my God, thief! I’m being robbed!”
Fortunately, Sanghyeok was able to briskly walk away before the police were called, satisfied that his theory had proven true.
The next questions on his mind were how and why. How had he gained these powers? Why him, and why now?
Surely, it wasn’t a coincidence that these powers activated on his thirtieth birthday. First, he called his parents and tried to subtly inquire as to whether there were any secret traits hidden in his bloodline that they’d maybe forgot to tell him about. When they revealed no such secrets, he moved on to calling his older friends, ones who had turned thirty themselves in the past few years:
Cho Sehyeong. Nothing.
Lee Jeonghyeon. Nothing.
Bae Seongwoong didn’t answer his call, but maybe that was to be expected.
Finally, he phoned up Chae Gwangjin, and that was where he got his answer:
“You’re a wizard, Sanghyeok.”
“I’m a what?” he stammered.
“A wizard,” Gwangjin announced, “or that’s what I call it, anyway. Any man can become one, so long as he meets two conditions: he’s at least thirty, and he’s still a virgin.”
“Ah,” Sanghyeok huffed, “Are you sure the virginity is part of-”
“Are you saying you don’t meet those conditions?”
“…No.”
“Exactly. When you lose your v-card, you lose your powers. Everyone’s powers are the same: as long as you’re touching someone, or they’re touching something you’re also touching, you can read their mind. Yes, it is possible to read more than one person’s mind at once, but it’s honestly not worth it. It just gives me a headache.”
“I see. Anything else I should know?”
“That about sums it up. I’ve been using my powers to crush the Hell out of video game tournaments. Of course, you need to make sure you aren’t going up against someone with the same powers; then it just becomes an even fight. So, how are you planning on using yours?”
Sanghyeok pursed his lips. Using such powers for personal gain didn’t sit right with him. He did have one goal, though:
“I want Kim Hyukkyu not to hate me.”
“Choi Hyunjoon-ah, so nice of you to join me,” Sanghyeok spoke across the lunch table. Hyunjoon was a recent transfer to his cohort. He had invited him out that day under the pretense of an introductory meal. Hyunjoon didn’t notice that beneath the table, the sides of their shoes were touching.
“Thank you so much for thinking of me, hyung,” Hyunjoon graced respectfully. “I’ll try not to embarrass myself too much. Let’s see, what should I order… Nothing too expensive, nothing too messy…”
Sanghyeok angled his shoe away from Hyunjoon’s, offering himself at least this much privacy. “How do you feel you’re fitting in with the T1 team?”
“I think I’m fitting in just fine. Everyone’s been very nice to me.” Hyunjoon’s eyes were still darting frantically around the menu. Kindly, Sanghyeok offered, “I recommend the orange-glazed pork.”
Hyunjoon glanced up gratefully, finally putting his menu to the side. “I’ll go with that, then.”
“Excellent. Now if you don’t mind, I have a few questions.”
Oh crap, Hyunjoon thought, He knows about Jihoon.
“Who’s Jihoon?” Sanghyeok wondered aloud, and Hyunjoon flushed.
“I assure you, sir, my relationship with Jihoon is purely profession- I mean, personal!” He floundered, frantically moving his hands, “I mean, it’s private, that’s what it is. Our relationship, it… it doesn’t affect the business at all. Like we don’t discuss our jobs ever. I guess sometimes I ask how his day at work was, and he asks after Minseokie and Hyukkyu hyung, but… and I mean it’s not even like we’re anything official or anything. We’re just friends with, um, business. I mean not like, business-business, of course, but… Yeah. Sir.”
“You can relax, Hyunjoon,” Sanghyeok assured, “I’m not concerned about your personal affairs.” There was one name that stood out within the rambling though. “This ‘Jihoon’… I take it you two worked together under Hyukkyu?”
Hyunjoon nodded. “We graduated from the same uni, then both ended up assigned to the same cohort in the office. He switched to working for Gen. Corps a few years ago, but I’m guessing you knew that.”
Sanghyeok did not know that. He suddenly understood why Hyunjoon had been so flustered; he was unduly worried that a relationship between members of rival businesses would spark a scandal, perhaps even an investigation.
As Hyunjoon took a concerned sip of his ice water, Sanghyeok transitioned, “What was it like, working with Hyukkyu hyung?”
“Oh, he was a great supervisor,” Hyunjoon beamed, “Very patient, very attentive. A great worker and a kind boss.”
“Was he a better boss than I am?” he fielded mischievously, angling his foot in to touch.
“Of course not,” Hyunjoon dismissed. “I do miss him sometimes. Hyukkyu hyung really is the best.”
“I see,” Sanghyeok noted, trying not to get too upset. He already knew if he asked Minseok the same question, he’d receive an identical response. “Did Hyukkyu hyung ever mention that we were classmates?”
“Yes, I believe he did,” Hyunjoon shared, much to Sanghyeok’s surprise. “He told this one sweet story about a field trip you both went on” after Jihoonie called you a heartless bastard…
“Jihoon called me what?” Sanghyeok gawked, only for Hyunjoon to shake his head.
“Sorry, sorry! It was just a tense moment in the office. This was back in April of 2020, when your team suddenly got that new appointment at the start of the pandemic and all of T1’s work got allocated to us instead… it really screwed us over.” Repentantly, Hyunjoon added, “Jihoon was really upset about it, but Hyukkyu hyung was very insistent that no one speak ill of you. He said… He said you were a good man. And then he told the story.”
Captivated and inexplicably warm, Sanghyeok followed, “So Hyukkyu doesn’t hate me?”
Hyunjoon appeared shocked by the suggestion. “No, I certainly think not. At very least, he didn’t back then. Personally, I don’t think Hyukkyu hyung’s the type to hate anyone.”
That sounded right to Sanghyeok, too. He nodded gratefully. “Thanks for your help.”
“Of course,” Hyunjoon ceded, “and you’ll have to forgive Jihoon. He was still young and brash at the time. We all were.”
“Heartless bastard, huh…” Sanghyeok mused. “And you’re still dating the guy?”
“Ah! Well…” Hyunjoon fidgeted in his seat. “I wouldn’t call it that.”
Two weeks later was the worst rainstorm of the year thus far, an ominous start to the upcoming rainy season that had caught most unawares. Amidst the dark grey of the rumbling skies, Sanghyeok almost missed the pencil-shade of Hyukkyu’s suit as he stood under the office awning, presumably waiting for a cab at the end of the workday.
It was funny that Hyukkyu never seemed to wear a classic black suit. Maybe one day, Sanghyeok would ask him why.
“I doubt there’ll be many cabs out in this weather,” Sanghyeok remarked conversationally, opening his umbrella and offering his best reassuring glance. “Or if there are, they’ll miss you in that outfit.”
Hyukkyu gave the quaint reaction of a frustrated smile. “I suppose so.”
“Want me to drive you home?” he offered, angling his body out such that he ‘accidentally’ brushed their shoulders together. “It’s really no hassle.”
“No, I couldn’t,” Hyukkyu placated, “Of course I can’t. I could never accept your help.”
“Why not?” Sanghyeok interrogated, snapping his mouth shut in the end as he mentally checked to ensure the question followed logically.
“I don’t want to trouble you,” Hyukkyu insisted.
“And I already said it was no hassle,” Sanghyeok held firm.
“That’s exactly it,” Hyukkyu’s voice surged bitterly from within. “It’s never any trouble, not for you. It’s just all so easy for you.”
Softly, Sanghyeok extended a hand. “Hyukkyu-yah…”
Hyukkyu sighed and shook his head. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t let him know that I’m staying at a hotel right now…”
Sanghyeok’s expression shifted. “Is everything okay at home?”
Hyukkyu sighed again, more aggressively this time. “No, actually; the pipes above my apartment burst and now all my ceilings need to be redone. I’m still looking for a place to stay in the meantime.”
“I could-”
“No thanks,” Hyukkyu declined immediately. “I appreciate your generosity, but I’ll be fine.”
“It’ll save you needing to find a ride in the morning,” Sanghyeok wagered. “I have a full unoccupied guest room, just waiting to be used. Please?”
Hyukkyu shook his head once more, but said nothing. Breaking away, Sanghyeok raised his umbrella, took a few steps into the rain-flooded street, then turned back, reaching out his hand once more.
“Come now, Hyukkyu-yah. I need to help. Can’t have people thinking I’m a heartless bastard.”
The language startled Hyukkyu from his default expression. He hesitated for a moment, letting his hand slowly drift up toward Sanghyeok’s.
In a near whisper, Hyukkyu shared, “I would never.”
He took Sanghyeok’s hand.
“Perfect,” Sanghyeok said, guiding him through the parking lot. “It can just be for one night; then, if you aren’t happy with it, you can find somewhere else to stay in the morning.”
“Sounds good,” Hyukkyu remarked. “Ah, here I am, depending on Sanghyeok again… how pathetic.”
“It’s not pathetic to ask for help,” Sanghyeok spoke lowly, “and I honestly wish you would depend on me more.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hyukkyu thought, but Sanghyeok gave him no answers, simply opening the car door for him and carefully positioning the umbrella to keep him dry as he slipped into the passenger door.
That meant subjecting Sanghyeok’s entire shoulder to a stream of cold water, but he didn’t mind. He diligently returned to the driver’s side of the car, and then they were off.
They reached Sanghyeok’s house a short while later. Hyukkyu sat on the couch while Sanghyeok put on a fresh pot of tea.
“I was thinking of ordering chicken for dinner,” he suggested as he offered Hyukkyu a mug. “Do you still take yours not-spicy?”
The corner of Hyukkyu’s lips quirked up. “I’m surprised you remember after all this time.”
“Of course I do,” Sanghyeok shrugged, trying not to be too pleased with himself. “What should we do while we wait?”
Hyukkyu gestured to a pair of controllers and a video game console under Sanghyeok’s television. “You still play Brawl?”
“I haven’t in years, but I’ll give it a shot.”
Sanghyeok took a controller, took a seat, and just like that, they were teenagers again, playing video games in someone’s basement on a Saturday afternoon.
Memories came rolling back to Sanghyeok like glass marbles down a spiral path: Hyukkyu always loved playing video games when he was at a friend’s house, likely because he didn’t have a console of his own. Sanghyeok, on the other hand, was always spoiled with the latest games, and was always the best in the school, easily winning every tournament.
He could vaguely recall Hyukkyu watching from his periphery during his greatest wins.
Anyway, that had been years ago. Sanghyeok was horribly out of practice now, or so he thought, but muscle memory kicked in. Old combos came back like second nature, and just like that, he was chaining together one victory after another.
After one particular victory, Hyukkyu let out a grunt of frustration which he feebly attempted to disguise as a cough. Sanghyeok’s face grew hot as he realized, much to his own horror, that he had been a terrible host.
In the next round, he “accidentally” mistimed his block, allowing Hyukkyu to get lethal damage in. The one after that, he messed up the order for one of the more complicated attacks – a common error, one that could be easily dismissed by his lack of recent practice.
Somehow, Hyukkyu only seemed more upset each time he won.
At that moment, Sanghyeok recalled that he didn’t need to wonder what was going on in Hyukkyu’s head: if he leaned in just a bit closer, he could hear for himself.
Their shoulders brushed together, and Sanghyeok heard Hyukkyu’s seething loud and clear.
“I hate him so much.”
Sanghyeok’s heart sank.
“Does he really think so little of me that he needs to make intentional errors? Does he think I’m so fragile that I can’t handle losing at a video game? Or is he just gloating how much better he is?”
“Hyukkyu-yah…” Sanghyeok started, but as Hyukkyu met his gaze, he realized that he couldn’t easily explain himself, not without revealing his gift. “Our food should be here soon. How about one more match?”
Hyukkyu nodded politely. “Sounds good.” His outer self revealed nothing of the turmoil within.
In the last game, Sanghyeok didn’t pull his punches. He completely crushed Hyukkyu in a relatively quick bout. Still, Hyukkyu seemed strangely satisfied with the outcome.
“That’s that, then.”
Their food came shortly after. The clanking of dishes was the only sound in the pressure chamber of a dining room until Hyukkyu recalled, “I beat you, once.”
Sanghyeok nodded. “Your Caitlyn, my Viktor.”
Hyukkyu gifted him a rare smile. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“Of course I do,” Sanghyeok dismissed, “I didn’t lose very often.”
“I guess not.” Hyukkyu poked his food pensively, ultimately confessing, “I thought very highly of you back then.”
Intrigued, but ever playful, Sanghyeok prompted, “And you don’t now?”
Hyukkyu took another dainty bite. “Please. You already have so many people singing your praises. I doubt I could add anything new to the chorus.”
“Maybe you could.” Sanghyeok raised his glass to his lips. “Maybe it would sound different coming from your voice.”
He shook his head, “I’m no one special.”
“You are!” Sanghyeok protested forcefully, revealing an uncharacteristic crack in his composure. Regathering himself, he equivocated, “I’m sure you’re special to lots of people.”
“Right.” Hyukkyu wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry. I must be getting tired.”
Sanghyeok felt himself deflating like a punctured hot air balloon. “Okay. I’ll show you to your room.”
“Thank you for dinner,” Hyukkyu offered, “and for the place to stay.”
“I would have done this for anyone,” Sanghyeok assured pleasantly.
Wearily, Hyukkyu replied. “I know you would have.”
Once again, Sanghyeok felt completely lost. He escorted Hyukkyu to the guest room in silence, only speaking to offer him the still-packaged pajama set from the mattress. “These should be about your size.”
As Hyukkyu accepted the clothes, his voice filled Sanghyeok’s head; he nearly jumped, having forgotten about his power.
“Perhaps these were originally intended for Sanghyeok’s lover… It feels wrong to take them.”
In truth, they had been intended for Hyukkyu himself, in a manner of speaking. Sanghyeok had spotted their crisp blue color and soft silk from the store window and pictured his co-worker, then purchased the set so thoughtlessly that he even got them in Hyukkyu’s size instead of his own.
“They aren’t for my lover,” Sanghyeok admitted, “They were for someone I fancied, but I don’t think they return my feelings.” Smiling sadly, he added, “Or maybe they once did, but they got over me a long time ago.”
“I see,” Hyukkyu remarked, “It’s like you read my mind.”
Oops. “I just wanted to assure you that they’re free to use, since you seemed hesitant,” he corrected quickly.
Hyukkyu nodded. “I’ll be sure to use them. Thank you.”
“Here’s a spare toothbrush, too.”
Sanghyeok handed it over, heart pounding as Hyukkyu’s inner voice spoke once more:
“I’m envious of whoever Sanghyeok fancies…”
Sanghyeok’s cheeks reddened. “I, um…”
“I wish I could’ve gotten over him a long time ago, too.”
The second sentence landed like a punch. Sanghyeok stood there, wide-eyed and tongue-tied.
“Why is he still holding the toothbrush?”
“Right, sorry,” Sanghyeok let go, arms flailing, fighting to calm his racing pulse. “I’ll leave you be. Good night, Hyukkyu-yah.”
“G-goodnight?” Hyukkyu wondered. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, I’m…” He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. Everything is fine.” On his way out the door, he added, “I’ll make breakfast in the morning.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” When Sanghyeok stayed in the doorway, staring, he added another, “Goodnight?”
“Yes, good night,” he declared, finally closing the door, wondering how the ability to read minds had left him with more questions than answers.
Sanghyeok nearly flipped his eggs onto the floor the following morning when Hyukkyu emerged from the guest room wearing sleepy eyes, a bedhead, and the pajamas that Sanghyeok had chosen for him.
“Good morning,” he greeted blearily, seating himself at the kitchen table.
“Good morning,” Sanghyeok replied cooly. “How do you like your eggs?”
“However you take them is fine.”
“Over-easy it is.”
As Sanghyeok served the yolks on toast to a smiling Hyukkyu, he was already imagining another month of mornings just like this. “I’ll make you pancakes tomorrow. Do you prefer chocolate chip or blueberry?”
“Actually,” Hyukkyu swallowed, “I’ve been texting with Minseok. I’m going to stay with him for the rest of the month, starting tonight.”
That didn’t make sense, and Sanghyeok’s expression showed it. “Minseok doesn’t have a guest room.”
“He has a couch that will suit me just fine.”
“Nonsense,” Sanghyeok persisted. “My house is closer to the office.”
Hyukkyu gave him an exasperated glare. “There are other considerations besides practicality.”
“Like what?”
“Like comfort,” Hyukkyu enunciated cautiously. Sanghyeok processed the word like a name he’d only just connected to the face.
“I’ve done something wron-”
“No, no, you haven’t,” Hyukkyu sighed, “You’ve been a wonderful host. You have.”
“Then why-”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
The words were cold and steely, like a paperclip separating one file from the next. It clearly delineated the end of their discussion.
Sanghyeok accepted it with what dignity he had left. “I see.”
They finished their breakfast and cleared their plates. They got ready, then walked to the car without acknowledging each other, as if they were strangers on a bus instead of co-workers in a private vehicle.
Co-workers. Was that really all they were?
As he held the door for Hyukkyu, Sanghyeok tried to steal one final answer, one last hint on how to proceed. He touched Hyukkyu’s shoulder, and out came his answer:
Please don’t touch me. It hurts.
It was the most devastated tone he’d ever heard from an inner thought. He pulled away completely, reverting to outward stoicism.
“What did I do wrong?” Sanghyeok asked Minseok over drinks. He’d maintained an indifferent front at the office, but after hours, he was a complete wreck, seeking solace in the one person he thought might have answers.
Minseok sipped his drink and glanced at him like he was stupid. “What did you do, period?”
Sanghyeok frowned at the implied accusation. “I’ve been perfectly cordial to him.”
“Perfectly cordial,” Minseok snorted. “Right, that’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“When he was at your house, did you treat him like a friend, or did you treat him like a co-worker?”
“He is my co-worker,” Sanghyeok pointed out.
“There’s your problem. You want him to see you as more than a co-worker, right?”
Sanghyeok hesitated. “I don’t know. I just want him to stop hating me.”
“Let me tell you a secret, hyung,” Minseok flicked his straw, “No matter how you try to justify it, you don’t spend the better part of your life chasing after someone because you hate them.”
“Better part of- Minseokie, what are you talking about?”
“You didn’t know? The whole reason Hyukkyu hyung joined this office was because of you, because you were there. Because he wanted to work with you, and support you.” Processing Sanghyeok’s dumbfounded expression, he concluded, “He never told you that. Right. Of course he didn’t. Christ, you two are helpless.”
“I thought it was just a coincidence,” Sanghyeok fretted. “This whole time, I’ve been keeping a respectful distance from him because I didn’t want him to feel awkward.”
“Instead, you made him feel invisible,” Minseok finished. “You made him feel like nothing he did would ever matter to you, like he shouldn’t even bother trying to get close because you’re untouchable.”
“And now…”
“Now it just feels like flying too close to the sun. No matter how hard you try to reach out, he’s convinced it’s just out of sympathy.”
“So it’s too late, then.” Sanghyeok stared into his drink mournfully. “So there’s nothing I can do to get through to him.” He threw back a long sip.
Minseok bit his straw and shrugged. “I still have hope. No grand ideas, though. I doubt words will cut it. If only there were some way for him to know what you really thought of him.”
Sanghyeok spat out his drink in Minseok's face.
October 23rd, 2026.
Sanghyeok was nervous all morning for reasons that had nothing to do with his board meeting presentation or upcoming deadlines. He kept glancing over at Hyukkyu. He seemed calm as ever on the outside, but Sanghyeok had no doubt that on the inside, he was panicking over his newfound powers.
Sanghyeok would be more than happy to explain them to him, but first, he had other business.
“Hyukkyu-yah,” he greeted as their lunch hour dawned, “happy birthday.”
Hyukkyu gave him a polite nod. “Thank you.”
“Would you mind joining me outside for a moment?"
His smile folded into concern. “Okay?” He glanced around his desk. “Do I need anything?”
“No, no, it’s not about work. I’ll explain outside.”
They stepped out onto the sunlit patio, Hyukkyu in his pale blue suit, Sanghyeok in his sharpest black. Sanghyeok took a deep breath, reached out, and put a hand onto Hyukkyu’s shoulder.
“Hi. I know this might be uncomfortable because I’m speaking to you in your head right now (it’s a wizard thing. I’ll explain later.), but there are a few things about me you should really know. I honestly admire you, perhaps even more than you admire me. I think that you’re hard-working, and kind, and more steadfast than I ever could be. I’m sorry if I made you feel worthless. You’re actually worth so much to everyone, and to me. I would love to get to know you better. I’m not the sun. I’m not untouchable. I’m just that same guy from grade school that you once knew, and as selfish as it is, I really hope you haven’t gotten over me yet, not now that I’m starting to fall for you.”
Hyukkyu stood there, stunned speechless. Sanghyeok held his firm gaze.
Finally, Hyukkyu thought, “Why isn’t he saying anything?”
What?
“He’s just been standing there staring at me for the past minute. Should I call an ambulance?”
“Um, Hyukkyu-yah,” Sanghyeok cleared his throat awkwardly, “Today is your thirtieth birthday, right?”
“That’s right.”
Sanghyeok appeared genuinely baffled as he considered an alternative. “Are you not a virgin?”
Hyukkyu’s pale cheeks turned bright pink. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business!”
“Right, sorry, okay.” Sanghyeok withdrew his arm, wishing that he had practiced his speech aloud and not just mentally. “Um, hi. There are a few things about me you should know. I honestly admire you, and… um… I’m… touchable.”
Hyukkyu froze. “You’re what.”
“Oh God, sorry, I meant-”
“Lee Sanghyeok,” his voice rang with utter disbelief, “did you really call me outside on my birthday to ask me if I’m a virgin and then tell me you’re touchable?”
Sanghyeok’s face was redder than his tie. He couldn’t even try to explain.
“That has got to be the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard. Did Minseok put you up to this?”
Beyond grateful for the scapegoat, he nodded enthusiastically. Hyukkyu shook his head.
“I’d report you to HR, but I don’t think they’d believe me. Lee Sanghyeok, saying he’s touchable…” Breaking into a grin, he declared, “Now that I think about it, it is a very Sanghyeok line.”
“It is?” Sanghyeok balked.
“It is. It reminds me of that one joke you used to tell when we were teenagers. You know: ‘what did one welcome mat say to the other’?”
“What’s the mat-ter,” Sanghyeok finished, “I didn’t know it left such an impression on you.”
Hyukkyu giggled, “Not as much of an impression as this, but…”
Sanghyeok took a deep breath. “Can we please just start over?”
“To when? Before the lame pick-up line, or before the lame joke?”
A wry smile cresting his face, he tried, “Why don’t we just go all the way back to the start.” He bowed. “Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Lee Sanghyeok.”
Matching his exact cadence, Hyukkyu bowed in reply. “Nice to meet you. My name is Kim Hyukkyu.” As he rose, he added, “It’s my birthday today.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” Hyukkyu hesitated for just a moment, then nodded as if agreeing to raise the stakes. “Some of my friends are going out tonight to celebrate. Would you like to join us?”
“I would love to.” Sounding as heartfelt as he could manage, Sanghyeok confided, “I’m really looking forward to getting to know you better, Hyukkyu-yah.”
Hyukkyu gave him a curious look. “I think I feel the same way.”