Archive of Our Own

Kim Seungmin is starting a new job today. He’d left his overworked and underpaid research analyst role less than a week ago. His boss hadn’t been able to do anything to stop him; Seungmin was run to the ground, mourning the hours he was forced to put in. He was finally able to clinch an opening at a company that didn’t seem like it was on the verge of bankruptcy with one too many lost clients, and he took it without a second thought.

Stepping into his new office building, he commits to memory the strip of commercial buildings and establishments outside—restaurants, coffee shops, convenience stores. He tries his best while waiting for the elevator but fails to retain the list at the fifth reiteration and promptly gives up. Whatever, he’ll have time to explore, he hopes. It’ll be hard to find another good job to use his psychology degree with only a year of work experience. At the same time, flashbacks of his three-month human resources job run through his mind. He decides he’ll just do well here to never need to change jobs ever again. 

Seungmin's first day starts with getting his work equipment—all standard fare, if not too basic a kit. He doesn’t mind; at least his personal computer will be spared from carrying the burden of his livelihood. He goes through the rest of his week with onboarding sessions and workshops before being scheduled for introduction to the rest of his team—which, Seungmin notices, is bigger than he expected for a marketing research firm. 

The next Tuesday rolls around—one of the department's two in-office days. A woman in her late twenties approaches Seungmin as he chooses one of the unoccupied desks to put his bag down. “Hi, you must be Seungmin, right?”

“Hi, yes, that’s me,” Seungmin returns. He’s trying to show his best congenial smile.

Her face blanks for a second, but returns to her previous cheery expression. “Great, I’m Jihyo, and I’ll be your manager. Go ahead and settle down, you have another two weeks of technical training before you start handling projects, so your office days are going to be more like formalities with the team until then.”

Seungmin nods and smiles at the prospect of a more relaxed workplace. “Okay, sounds good. Thank you, Miss Jihyo.”

Jihyo’s eyes widen and Seungmin registers the look with panic. 

“Oh gosh, no need for that Sir and Miss stuff,” Jihyo says emphatically. “First names are fine here.”

Seungmin takes a beat to register his faux pas and his shoulders relax. “Alright.. Jihyo.”

“That’s right,” she nods. “I sent you an email with important reminders for your first month, so you can go over that and let me know if you have questions.” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder to point at an occupied desk at the corner. “I’ll just be over there if you need anything. We do free seating in the office, so you can just choose an empty desk when you’re here.”

“Copy that. Thanks, Jihyo.”

Over a manager-sponsored team lunch, Seungmin finds out that Jihyo is the designated extrovert of the team—naturally charming, easy to work with, and excellent at her job. Jihyo’s team is part of a bigger unit under Jeongyeon, who has another manager reporting to her—Sana was her name. The rest of Sana’s team was also introduced, if only Seungmin could nail down names after the first meeting. 

Jihyo’s team, a hodgepodge mix of personalities, thrive under her supervision. She has four direct reports; the three junior analysts—her babies—are a mixed bag. Ryujin is a bit reserved but very reliable. Hyunjin is very easygoing but still a bit green as a first-jobber, while Seungmin rounds out the trio. 

And then there’s Minho. He’s one of the senior analysts under Jeongyeon’s unit—promoted just a few months before Seungmin started working there. Minho is probably the most reserved person he’s met—never one to initiate interactions outside of work concerns but never declining an invite, always tagging along on coffee runs, and often stays in the office longer than normal business hours. Traffic is lighter past seven, and it’s easier to work in the office, he says. Seungmin can’t relate—one of the reasons he changed jobs was because his old company was going to enforce a full return to office, and he had sworn never to do that to himself again. 

He begins to doubt himself though, when he finds himself part of the unofficial ‘overtime club’ with Minho and Chan, another senior analyst under Sana, whenever they’re working in the office. They hardly talk when it’s just them, and Seungmin doesn’t mind the quiet camaraderie of coworking in each other’s presence. They would occasionally toss out a work-related question or spend a few minutes consulting on a particularly challenging task. Other times, they had the bandwidth to briefly discuss some office drama, but the hours after five pm are generally spent in productive silence.

They call themselves a team, but hardly ever work on the same thing together; they get assigned to client accounts, so if they aren’t handling the same account, the most they do is chat around in the office and have lunch together as a team—which Seungmin decides isn’t the worst thing in the world.

The first few months of work blow past Seungmin. By all standards, he is doing fine—clients like him, his bosses like him, and his work gets praised a handful of times. Seungmin likes that he has the most work experience out Jihyo's three babies, and that his boss starts to rely on him for certain things as well. On top of that, he feels himself coming out of his shell, especially when the unit is all in the office. His coworkers seem to appreciate his sense of humor, though Seungmin suspects it’s because no one else has his brand of gay humor—not that he knows of, at least. A few quick-witted comments and pop culture references was apparently all it took to endear the majority of his teammates.

Seungmin started his new job in May, and by the time December arrived, he had finished his six-month newbie program early (as Seungmin does), while two new people joined their department—Jeongin under Jihyo and Jisung to complete Sana’s team.

Right now, the team is huddled up in a van on the way to a team outing at a hot spring town two hours away. They rented an overnight stay at a small house with the usual amenities—small pool, grilling area, karaoke bar, gaming area—the works. 

As a newbie, Seungmin is paired with Jeongin to lead the planning for the whole trip. Not everyone was able to make it, though; they almost have a logistics meltdown when Tzuyu suddenly has a family function that same weekend while Sana decides to fly back home to Japan to spend her Christmas and New Years working remotely.

They play games, grill some meat, and by the time dinner is finished, someone (Jihyo) whips out the alcohol and starts pouring shots. The taste of whiskey is acrid as it slides down Seungmin’s throat. He enjoys the slight buzz that comes with drinking, but could never get himself to enjoy the taste. He settles for a sweet cocktail of soju and lemon soda and nurses his cup throughout the night.

By midnight, Jihyo is properly drunk and has run her voice hoarse with shouting at the karaoke machine to give her a perfect score. More than half of the team have gone to bed. On the lower floor are Seungmin, Changbin, and Chan who are huddled up on the couch. Across from them, Jihyo, Jackson, and Ryujin are crowding the karaoke machine, while Hyunjin, Minho, and Chaeryong are playing cards by the pool.

Jihyo and Jackson decide to swim, and are later having a heart-to-heart talk on the deeper end, slightly obscured as no one bothered to turn on the pool lights. Chan and Minho attempt to clear the dining area to make their morning cleanup more manageable. Seungmin shuffles closer to help out, but is interrupted by someone calling his name.

“Seungmin, let’s go for a swim! The rental says the pool uses hot spring water, and I wanna try!” says Chaeryong, another analyst in Sana’s team. She's pulling on his arm, already stripped down to her swimwear. 

“Wait, let me get my towel first,” he says, climbing up the stairs to the sleeping area. He emerges from the staircase a minute later, fluffy towel in hand. He drapes it over one of the outdoor chairs near the pool. Chaeryong is now in the pool, flanked by Ryujin, who hadn’t bothered removing her sunglasses before jumping in, even though it was past midnight.

“Come on, Seungminnie. Water’s warm, unless Chae just decided to have her potty break here,” Ryujin calls out, unbothered by her limited vision. Chaeryong splashes her with water in annoyance. The spatter reaches where Jihyo and Jackson are, and she curses them out in her inebriation.

“Watch it, asses! We’re trying to talk here!” she says across the pool, as if she wasn’t critiquing Seungmin’s presentation less than twenty-four hours ago.

Seungmin just laughs at the slight absurdity and takes a tentative step into the pool, reveling in the warmth of the water. As he wades deeper, it starts to soothe his muscles, and he stops walking until his chin touches the surface of the water.

“Come on, Minho. The water’s nice!” Chaeryeong calls out from behind Seungmin.

Minho, still in his cream shirt and baby blue beach shorts, pulls one of the lounge chairs towards the pool area. “I’m good, thanks.” 

He sits down, elbows resting on his knees, one hand holding onto his cup of now-warm whiskey. Seungmin looks at Minho and freezes. From his vantage point, Minho is sitting right in front of one of the overhead lights in the dining area; his backlit silhouette makes Seungmin’s chest squeeze, the pale white light twinkling behind the sharp edge of a jawline. Seungmin swallows absentmindedly and nearly chokes on a mouthful of pool water.

“Hey, are you okay?” Still coughing, he looks up and there he is—Minho is crouched in front of him, slight worry creasing his eyebrows.

Seungmin thumps his chest, trying to clear the water out before choking out a “Yes, I’m ok—”

Hiccup. ‘Shit.’ Hiccup. A flush spreads on his face and he turns away. Hiccup. “I’m okay.” Hiccup. Minho just laughs it off and returns to his seat. 

Seungmin tries not to be in Minho’s direct line of sight for the rest of the time he’s in the water. Thankfully, Chan and Changbin join them a few minutes later, but the group leaves the pool once the morning chill starts to creep into their bodies.

Everyone goes upstairs, and Seungmin is headed for the boys' room before he is once again redirected from his destination by Chaeryong. “Come sleep in our room,” she says, pulling him toward the girls' room. “It’s fine, you’re basically one of us, anyways.”

Seungmin shares a queen bed with Ryujin, who is forcefully volunteered by Chaeryong who says she can’t stand sleeping next to someone who had even the slightest potential to snore. Her worries are unnecessary; Seungmin barely gets a wink of sleep, thoughts racing with the image of a certain man.

=====

Kim Seungmin is not a social media expert. He admittedly prefers analog to digital modes for most things. He does as well as anyone on a computer to churn out spreadsheets and presentations;  his aversion is more aligned to avoiding doomscrolling on Tiktok and arguing with strangers online on Twitter. Plus, the thought of broadcasting your life to the online public also doesn’t seem like a good idea in his book.

“Seungmin, do you have an Instagram account?” Chan asks in one of their “overtime club” sessions. Minho had gone home with the rest of the team, so it was just the two of them this evening. 

“I have an account, but I don’t really use it much,” Seungmin confesses. “I can follow you if you want, though.”

Seungmin doesn’t share that he has two accounts—the one he shared to Chan is the public account, with no posts and hundreds of followers collected from high school until his adult life. The second one is his private dump account. It’s where he cultivates his gay humor and shares pictures of his life that the other account’s audience probably might not enjoy. He posts some of his own baseball highlights on the private account too; he plays casually on weekends for fun, but doesn’t feel that Chan should be privy to that info yet.

“Sure, that’d be great!” the other man says. They exchange follows, and Chan heads out for the night. “See ya on Thursday, Seungmin!”

He waves Chan goodbye as his eyes drift back to his phone, Instagram still open. He scans the suggested accounts and notices a few of his other coworkers—Ryujin, Chaeryong, Hyunjin, Minho. He follows the first three out of politeness (they’re nice enough), and notices Minho’s account is set to private. Seungmin taps Follow anyway.

‘minho-sannn? Is he a weeb or something? Still cute, though.’

The following morning, he checks his phone for any texts or emails. At the top of the notification list, a neon icon glows in contrast to the minimalistic email and text notifications that so commonly greet him in the morning.

*minho-sannn accepted your follow request*

*minho-sannn is now following you*

Seungmin opens Minho’s profile and finds it to be extraordinarily plain—a few posts with landscape shots, some travel pictures, older family photos. A post catches his eye. It’s from around the time Minho was in college, if the remnants of baby fat and smaller eye bags were enough to indicate. He can see that even then, Minho was objectively very attractive. Minho now is even more attractive. Maybe a fully developed frontal lobe does that to people. Seungmin sighs out loud. ‘Something for me to look forward to next year,’ he muses.

Nothing comes out of the mutual Instagram follows. Seungmin doesn’t bother enough to finally post something on his public account. What does change is that Chan and Chaeryong have wormed their way into Seungmin’s circle—and his private account. His posts and likes do the work to reveal how gay and hopelessly single he is. 

The three often include references to some of his reposts in their conversations. Chaeryong was talking about a reel that said every friend trio is usually made up of two gay friends and their token straight friend. Seungmin looks up from his bibimbap and his eyes drift from his two friends in playful accusation.

“Do either one of you have anything to share with the class?” he asks playfully.

Chan shrinks back in horror. “I have a girlfriend!” he defends.

“You can have a girlfriend and still be queer, Channie,” Seungmin jabs the air with his finger.

“Hey, stop it,” Chaeryong hits Seungmin’s hand softly. “He’s gonna go into a straight panic if you do that.”

Seungmin wants to laugh at her comment but stops when he understands the implication of her words. Chan is none the wiser, hoping to play the unassuming ally and not say anything truly offensive.

“Chae,” Seungmin starts, eyes locked on to his coworker and friend. “By any chance… do you… have one too?”

“Does she have a what?” Chan speaks before she can respond. 

Both Seungmin and Chaeryong snap to look at him, and he recoils back into his cafeteria chair. 

Seungmin straightens his back before answering. “Channie... Would you please recount the last few statements made out loud in this conversation—after Chae mentioned the trio thing?”

“Uhh, okay,” Chan says. “Seungminnie asked us if someone wanted to share anything with the class. Then I said I had a girlfriend.”

Chaeryong interrupts Chan’s recollection. “And what did Seungmin ask me just now?”

“He asked if you had one too…” his voice trails off and his eyes widen in realization. “Oh.”

“Do you?” Seungmin verbalizes Chan’s unspoken thoughts.

“Three years, met in college,” Chaeryong huffs with pride. “She’s the roommate I’m always talking about.”

Chan is dumbstruck at the revelation. Seungmin, on the other hand, deflates like a balloon. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Chan reaches out to place his hand on Seungmin’s arm.

“I’m the only single one in this friend group!” he shouts with more indignation than the moment is worth. He pouts and takes a sip of his caramel latte as his friends laugh at his expense.

Chaeryong offers him her chocolate chip cookie in consolation. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll snag a hottie soon. Maybe they work here? Has anyone caught your eye?”

Seungmin has this absent look on his face as he thinks about Minho—not intentionally, but long enough for Chan to notice. “There is! Which one is it? Is it Jeongin? You two have been hanging out a lot recently.”

“Ew no!” Seungmin winces. “He’s like a younger brother to me. That’s—” He makes fake gagging noises. As attractive as the guy is, Jeongin evokes Seungmin’s maternal instincts more than anything else.

“It’s Minho, isn’t it?” Chaeryong says with unfounded confidence and Seungmin is unable to hold back a flinch at the mention of Minho’s name.

“Haha, I knew it,” she says proudly. “Spill, sister.”

Seungmin sighs, and recounts the awakening of his crush during their team outing. Chan and Chaeryong nod along like backlit Minho haunting Seungmin’s dreams was nothing to worry about.

“I don’t even know if he’s into guys,” Seungmin says. 

“Hmm, let me see what I can dig up,” Chan says with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seungmin questions.

“I’ll see if I can get some info around here,” the other man clarifies. “The walls in this office have eyes and ears, you know.”

“Well good luck with that,” Seungmin replies. “I will not pursue anything that I am not 100% sure about, so you better get some solid evidence. I don’t do heartbreak well.”

“I’ll try to ask Jihyo about it,” Chaeryong says while saluting. Seungmin and Chan laugh at how silly they are. For how stressful their job can be, Seungmin likes this a lot.

The rest of the day is spent productively—Seungmin works on his presentations while Chan and Chaeryong shuffle from desk to desk asking about people's love lives.

At the end of the day, both of Seungmin’s friends make their way to his seat. After a day’s worth of investigation, they unsurprisingly come up empty-handed; Minho would never volunteer intimate details about his life—that much Seungmin is sure of. The most they’re able to dig up is Jihyo mentioning that Minho said his last relationship was in high school. 

“Wait,” Seungmin shoots up. “Didn’t he go to a private boarding school for boys?”

The other two understand what he means. 

“He can have a relationship outside of school, though,” Chaeryong counters. “So it doesn’t rule anything out.”

Seungmin sighs. “We should stop, guys. I really don’t wanna get my hopes up.”

Despite saying this, they try to rope in other people into their investigation—Changbin first the day after, then Jihyo within the next week—who decides that confirming this very private detail about one of her direct reports is a great way to pass time in the office.

They try to find more details out about Minho, the newest piece of information they learn in the next month is that he lives fifteen minutes away from Seungmin’s house. They wonder why Minho never offers Seungmin a ride. Seungmin doesn't think too hard about it though. He would never impose, but he knows that it’s not malicious or selfish on Minho’s part—he just doesn’t offer unless you ask. And Seungmin would be caught dead before he asks for a ride from Minho. And he’d be even more dead if he had to spend forty-five minutes in a car with Minho twice a week.

=====

The office resumes its normal buzz until the middle of March, when the whole team is pulled into an unplanned team-wide meeting by Jeongyeon on a Thursday. 

She drops a bomb on the meeting room—not one, but all three of their bosses will be leaving. Jihyo took a new job, Sana is returning to work in Japan to be closer to family, and Jeongyeon will be moving up to work on the leadership team after a well-deserved promotion. She also mentions that Nayeon, a senior manager from a different unit, will be stepping in to take Jihyo’s team, while Chan will be promoted to manager to take Sana’s place.

The room is a mix of congratulations and confusion at what the future will hold. Jeongyeon will stay on board as the unit head but in a much smaller capacity, at least until they find a replacement. Both Jihyo and Sana will be leaving in the first week of June to give the team time for a proper transition, but Seungmin only feels a hole forming in his chest. 

Jihyo was like a rock for him; she always knew how to reassure him and calm him down his spiraling thoughts. And now she’ll be gone. How will he work with Nayeon? Is she nice? Jeongyeon says she is, but he can't help but worry for their future dynamic.

He spends the weekend in a daze. His baseball teammates call him out for being distracted, and he tries his best to snap out of it and not ruin the game for everybody.

Come Monday, he slides his office chair next to Minho, who is silently working on his email backlog. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“You could tell?” Minho doesn’t even try to refute or deflect the question. 

“When Jeongyeon was explaining the changes, your expression didn’t change at all,” Seungmin answers honestly.

“How do you know that that wasn’t my shocked expression?” Minho counters.

“I think I’m familiar enough with your face to know when you’re reacting to something,” Seungmin retorts. He doesn’t notice the miniscule lift in Minho’s eyebrow after hearing his words. He’s able to school his expression back to neutrality before Seungmin can notice.

“She told me about three weeks ago,” Minho supplies.

Seungmin doesn’t say anything else after that, returning to the discomfort of being face-to-face with his laptop.

The two managers’ notice periods run faster than Seungmin would like. They spend more of it making the most out of their limited office time; Jihyo finished her handover with a lot of time to spare, so she just chats people up at random. One afternoon, Jihyo chooses Seungmin as her gossip partner.

“Change is good, you know,” she says without any pretense. 

Seungmin just looks at her wordlessly and takes a deep breath. It’s Jihyo’s last week before her annual leave kicks in. And then she's out.

“People leaving means opportunities for the rest of you,” she clarifies. “Take the opportunity. You’re pretty much at that level anyway.”

The hole in Seungmin’s chest is still there, but Jihyo’s words spark something in him. “I guess so. Let’s hope the company isn’t stingy with promotions though. You know how they can be.”

“Just do your best, I believe in you,” she says. “But you know," she continues, "...not knowing that thing about Minho will be the only regret I have once I leave.”

They have a quick laugh about it before Seungmin reassures her. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of it.” 

After their conversation, Seungmin takes a trip to the restroom and decides to risk everything—he opens Instagram on his private account, sending Minho a follow request. He spends fifteen minutes panicking in the cubicle before he restrains himself; he can't seem out of wack if he wants to get that promotion. He tosses his phone into his bag to stop himself from undoing his decision, but just as quickly reaches for it when he hears the notification ping a few minutes later. Seungmin’s ears turn red when he reads the follow-back confirmation, thankfully but no one else calls him out on it.

A week after Jihyo and Sana have their farewell party, Jeongyeon pulls Seungmin aside on a Thursday afternoon. “Do you have ten minutes?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says before he’s whisked away to a small meeting room.

“I know this is last minute, but this is very important,” she starts. “You’re not in trouble—quite the opposite, actually. We’ve all seen how much you’ve grown in the past year. As you already know, Chan is moving up to manager, and so a senior analyst position within the team is now open; I’m very happy to share that we just got approval for your promotion.”

Seungmin is unable to find the words to respond. He hadn’t seen this coming—he earnestly thought it would be at least another year before he would be considered for a promotion. He swallows and all he can say is a plain “Okay.”

Jeongyeon laughs him off. “Jihyo and I really fought for this, and I’m so excited that it finally pushed through. A year is actually pretty fast for a promotion, but we both know you can easily step up to the plate.” Seungmin just nods. 

“I’ll send you the official promotion notice in your email. Read through it, please, and I hope you can send me back a signed copy by tomorrow noon, so we can have it take effect by Monday. Congratulations, Seungmin, I’m very proud of you and can’t wait to see you bloom!”

Jeongyeon quickly leaves the room for another meeting, and Seungmin just sits there in his own shock. 

He returns to his desk and opens the email from Jeongyeon. The terms are pretty much the same, just more pay. He doesn’t bother negotiating and sends back a signed copy, cc-ing human resources.

The rest of the day is uneventful—thankfully so. He can’t focus with the tornado of emotions wreaking havoc in his mind. He pulls out his phone and shoots off a long message to Jihyo, thanking her and wishing her the best. She sends back her congratulations and affirms that he deserves it, joking that he can get promoted to manager in a year and a half. Seungmin laughs it off but part of him is intrigued. 

In the mess of team transitions and midyear madness, the announcement of Seungmin’s promotion goes unmade. Jeongin is the first to notice.

“You got promoted? Congratulations man!” he shouts, loud enough for the whole office wing to hear.

Seungmin smiles sheepishly. “Thanks, Jeongin. How’d you find out?”

“I was looking up an email thread and noticed your contact card had been updated. You’re a Senior Analyst now!”

Seungmin lets out an ‘ah’ in response. He doesn’t really know how to navigate the new dynamic. Does he start acting differently? He’s not anyone’s manager though—what if he oversteps? So he turns to the guy sitting right next to him—Minho.

“Hey.”

“Congrats on the promotion.”

“Uh, thanks,” Seungmin says with a laugh. “I was wondering. What’s the difference between a senior and a junior analyst?”

“Basically, you can do better in both quality and quantity,” Minho says. “And you’re expected to guide the juniors more.”

Seungmin lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

“You’ll be fine,” Minho says offhandedly. “You’ve been doing that for at least a couple of months now. Your title just caught up to the work you’ve been doing.” Pillowy soft clouds fill Seungmin’s chest at the straightforward compliment.

“Okay.” He says it softly, but he knows Minho heard him clearly. “Thanks, Minho.”

=====

Seungmin tries to act naturally on his private account—at least, as naturally as he can. He reposts the same genre of reels and his occasional coffee shop plugs on remote working days. If he sets a notification for Minho’s posts, that’s only for him to know and no one else to find out. 

The following weekend, he posts a new highlight reel of his weekend baseball games. He struck out a few hitters and had a few good swings; all in all, he felt pretty good about his game. Seungmin posts the highlight reel to his Instagram story, and the usual heart reactions come in—some from college friends, he gets hype comments from Chan and Chaeryong too.

Nothing from Minho. He only shows up as a viewer on the list, yet that somehow feels more exciting than all the other praise and validation he receives. 

He doesn’t change anything about his online presence. He posts a monthly photo dump on his private account with a short ramble on life events, but nothing too serious. He talks about baseball, being single, and loving Day6’s new album. Minho never likes his posts, but he doesn’t care; knowing that he bares his private life for Minho to see is romantic enough. He doesn’t feel brave enough to ask for more, anyway.

Months go by, and the team settles into a new normal. Nayeon is exactly as Jeongyeon and Jihyo described. She’s a great manager, but she’s no Jihyo. Somehow, that spurs Seungmin on to take on more emotional responsibility and act like the team’s designated extrovert. Chan notices and appreciates the effort, but Seungmin thinks it’s the manager talking, not so much his friend.

Jisung and Ryujin also move onto new jobs. Changbin, who was the other senior in the team, also receives an offer that’s too good to pass up—leaving Minho and Seungmin to hold down the fort in place of the managers.

They continue to speculate about Minho’s sexuality, though, with just as much information as the last time. Chan will tease him whenever Minho posts a nice picture of himself or when he shows up to the office with a new haircut, but never more than that. It’s a nice and stable rhythm that Seungmin is thankful for.

Again, the end of year outing dawns upon them. Yuna and Lily—their interns-turned-new hires are in charge of planning this time. Jeongyeon allows them to take Friday off for team engagement activities. The girls ask if anyone can offer to drive for carpooling. Nayeon, Jeongin, Yuna, and Minho offer to drive to the resthouse an hour away. When the ride assignments are finished, Seungmin’s left eye twitches when he sees he has to ride with Minho. His anxiety is spared from spiking when Chaeryong is also on board to ride with them.

But fate has a way of making simple things complicated. Since Chaeryong lives closer to the office pickup than Minho’s pickup point, Yuna offers to adopt Chaeryong into her carpool group at the last minute. Seungmin reels internally at his worst fear and wildest dream coming true—a solo car ride with Minho.

The evening before the outing, Seungmin shoots a message to clarify the meetup time and place with practiced nonchalance. They settle on the details quickly. If Seungmin is twenty minutes early to the meetup time, it’s only because he dislikes having people wait on him. If it were Yuna or Nayeon picking him up, maybe he’d be ten minutes early—but still early nonetheless.

The ride is quiet, except for the acoustic and jazz music filling the car from the playlist Minho has playing from his phone. He steals sideways glances at Minho—the way he holds onto the steering wheel, his thumb wrapping around the gear shift, and the occasional hum he lets out when he particularly likes the song playing.

Their first stop is a quaint cafe on the way to the resthouse. Seungmin is doing everything he can not to squirm in his seat, but staying still might make him doze off, so he does the only thing he knows how to do with Minho—talk about work.

Minho takes the conversation at face value, talking about his projects while Seungmin asks questions about his own. The conversations feel too sparse to fill the silent void of the vehicle. Seungmin curses the traffic on a Friday morning for making the ride much longer than they need to be. They’re the last to arrive at the cafe, and Seungmin quietly thanks Minho before getting off to greet the others. 

He gives Chan and Chaeryong a side hug and a high-five to Yuna. Seungmin had taken her under his wing when she joined as a full-time employee; Nayeon was still in the middle of transitioning from her old team, so Yuna had leaned on him more when she onboarded.

Chan walks up to him with a knowing smile. “Looking fresh today, mate!”

Seungmin ignores the underlying message in his words. “Thank goodness for not having to commute.” He sits down on one end of the long table next to Yuna, across from Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Minho sits next to Jeongyeon. Chan and his team sit at the opposite end of the table.

They finish brunch and resume the trip. Before heading to their accommodation, the girls planned a museum visit twenty minutes from the resthouse. Seungmin gets in the car and Minho starts the engine once again. This time, the ride is a bit more eventful, the road bottlenecks around a minor crash between a sedan and an SUV. They talk about who would be at fault based on the angle of the collision, but the conversation dies down as they reach the museum. 

Lily and Yuna approach them and hand the duo their tickets. The group enters the museum and promptly split up with a promise to meet back at the entrance in an hour. Despite it being December, the sun is shining brightly in the sky, tamping down the chill of winter.

Chan and Minho trail off in the same direction, the latter already lost in his own world, and Seungmin decides to follow along. They pass by murals, paintings, sculptures, and other installations before reaching the end of the wing. Chan seems to have diverged from them at this point, finding more enjoyment in the walking aspect than the looking aspect of the museum. 

In the last room, they find an exhibit with hanging glass panels, colored sunlight flickering across the room at different angles.

“Pretty,” Minho says out loud in the middle of the room, looking up at the installation.

“Pretty,” Seungmin repeats. He is not looking at the installation.

Seungmin decides for his own heart health that he needs to look around on his own. He wanders around, admiring the technical skill needed to pull off these pieces, before promptly deciding to buy himself a refreshing drink from the museum’s overpriced cafe.

He buys a lemon soda for twice the price it should cost, but he sits down and enjoys the drink anyway. Moments later, Nayeon and the older members of the team converge at the open seating a short distance away from the cafe.

“Where did you buy that?” a voice asks from behind. He looks back to find Minho; he’s wearing a plain brown shirt under an unbuttoned polo, matching his brown shorts and loafers.

“At the cafe,” Seungmin responds. “Overpriced, though. Just saying.”

Minho nods and decides to take the seat beside him. The others approach and ask him the same question. 

“I kind of want a drink too,” Jeongyeon comments out loud. That rouses most of the group to buy an overpriced drink of their own. 

They wait for another fifteen minutes before Chaeryong and the other girls arrive.

“We got lost!” she says, exasperated. “We called Seungmin and he said you guys were at the cafe.”

“We are at the cafe,” Seungmin butts in.

“Yeah, but nobody said there was another cafe on the other side of the museum,” Lily replies while catching her breath, earning a laugh from the group.

“Are you girls buying anything? We can check in at the resthouse if we go now,” Jeongyeon says. 

They decide against spending more money and leave the museum and proceed to making the trip to the rented venue.

=====

Seungmin knows he is overcompensating. He is deliberately not interacting with Minho if he can avoid doing so. God knows what happened at the last team outing. They proceed with the tired-and-tested checklist of activities—games, karaoke, light drinking. Seungmin forgoes swimming this time—the pool is completely outdoor, and he would like to avoid catching a cold just before the holidays.

This time around, the girls’ room is completely full, pushing Seungmin to room with the boys. It’s not really an issue, he thinks. He’s not a creep or pervert, and his team doesn’t comment on his rooming choice. Fair enough.

The team spends the after-hours of the trip just casually chilling around the living area. They talk about nothing—plans for the holidays, any last work tasks to finish before logging off for the year.

Seungmin has a dreamless night and is the first to wake up in the room. He looks around the room and sees Minho completely swaddled by his blanket. Seungmin waddles to the restroom and freshens up before walking down to the dining area, where Nayeon and Chan are plating up breakfast.

Breakfast is consumed in peace as the rest of the team files into the dining area. Once he finishes his plate of eggs and toast, he decides to get an early shower in before the rest hog up the bathroom. 

He showers and gets dressed but forgets to bring his shirt with him to the bathroom. He puts on his shorts and drapes his towel over his shoulders. He had hoped to make a quick run to grab his shirt and run back to the bathroom to finish clothing himself. His plans are ruined as he sees Minho tidying his bed and he makes an audible gasp. Minho turns to look in his direction and jerks his head away when he realizes that Seungmin is topless. 

Guys topless around each other shouldn’t be uncommon, but something about the moment feels taboo for both of them.

“Sorry,” Seungmin mutters. “Forgot my shirt on the bed.” He grabs the shirt and runs back to the bathroom. He quickly locks the door and props himself up using his hands on the bathroom sink. 

‘Get it together, Kim Seungmin!’

He puts his shirt on, finishes his morning skincare, and exits the bathroom. Minho is sitting on his own bed, waiting for his turn. 

“All yours,” Seungmin says, passing the other.

“Thanks,” Minho replies.

Cleanup and packing up consume the rest of the morning, before they all have to leave. Yuna says something about the deposit, but Seungmin just tunes her out, his mind focused on more important things. He has to spend at least an hour more with Minho—again.

The return trip is worse. They slow down in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Seungmin is too tired to think of any conversation starters. He stupidly asks about gear shifts and how they work. Minho explains patiently, but Seungmin just wants to crawl under a rock for the rest of the drive.

Somehow, Seungmin gets dropped off at his stop in one piece. He thanks Minho profusely for the carpool before hopping off with his bags. Minho just looks blase about everything, scanning the backseat in case of any forgotten belongings. Seungmin catches Minho’s arm slung over the front passenger seat and the memory etches itself onto his brain. He closes the door abruptly, waves the car goodbye and is quickly running out of view.

Half an hour later, Seungmin messages Minho again to let him know he’s home. He also messages the team chat to let them know and to thank everyone for a good time and to drive safe.

=====

The holidays pass by quickly. Seungmin returns to his hometown for the holidays to spend time with his grandparents. He plays with the dogs and his Instagram is filled with pictures and videos of them. He has no time to think about Minho, except when he posts a family photo and Seungmin makes the mistake of tapping the notification within a minute of getting it.

The family photo is cozy, Minho and various relatives posing around a Christmas tree. He can tell which ones are Minho’s parents—they have the same nose and smile. He likes Minho’s smile. He doesn’t do it often. It’s mainly when Seungmin makes an offhand joke that he gets to see Minho’s unbridled smile or his unfiltered laugh. He treats it like a badge of honor when he manages to make the other smile. Chan manages to ruin the moment only some of the time, pointing out how only Seungmin’s jokes land so well with Minho. 

The new year comes and goes. And it seems like March is always out to shake up the delicate cadence of Seungmin’s life. On a regular Monday team meeting, Nayeon finishes with the regular announcements for everyone to take note of. Some are already starting to chat in smaller groups.

“Everyone, we have a special announcement to make,” Nayeon says, drawing all attention back to her. “With the recent structural changes to the company, a managerial position has opened up, and Minho has been selected to fill the role.”

“Wow!” Jeongin says from behind Seungmin, who starts to clap like an excited seal. He feels so proud and excited for Minho, showing it the only way he knows how to right now. He thought the announcement would be done, but Nayeon continues to speak.

“However, the manager opening is under the business strategy team,” she says succinctly. Seungmin feels a headache coming on. “Minho will be with us until the end of next month. Until then, he will be at fifty percent capacity as he transitions to his next team.”

Seungmin feels like a train hit him. He approaches Minho with the others to congratulate him, but his heart can't make itself genuinely happy. Not when they’ll be on different teams. Not when they’ll be in the office on different days. Not when he won’t have anyone to consult with that isn’t a manager. And not when nobody else laughs at his jokes the way Minho does.

At the team lunch the next office day, Minho treats the team to a small pizza party, to everyone’s delight.

“Is this your apology for leaving us?” The words leave Seungmin’s mouth a bit harsher than he intended. Thankfully, Chan is the first to laugh his words off; the rest of the team follows suit. He dutifully takes a slice with grace, outwardly enjoying it to mask his growing melancholy. ‘I don’t even like pepperoni.’

Seungmin knows enough about Minho’s new team to not ask about it. And so the rest of Minho’s transition period goes by without a hitch. Come May, Seungmin iss now the only senior analyst of the team. He was still doing a stellar job; Nayeon had even started to talk to him about being groomed for a managerial position, but Seungmin doesn’t want to rush into it.

He feels the weight of the empty seats beside him, but his workload does well to keep his loneliness at bay. He tries to take it day by day, especially when the juniors only have him to look up to. 

He’s tried to stay sane by maintaining some semblance of structure outside of work. Weekends are still reserved for baseball, Friday nights are occasionally spent out with friends, and he takes mini-adventures on some weeknights—trying a new grocery store, or having a solo dinner date at a new restaurant. For the most part, they do the job and keep him grounded, but sometimes, the insomnia is harder to stave away.

One particular Monday night is one such night; Seungmin is on his phone at two in the morning, editing his latest baseball highlight reel from the weekend prior. He meticulously curates each snippet to show his best pitches and swings, each clip trimmed to the exact length. That weekend’s games were particularly nice; Seungmin had to remove some clips to preserve the reel’s length.

He spends another fifteen minutes choosing and timing the music to the clip before posting it on his account. He shares the post on his story as well, before rewatching to monitor if the quality comes through nicely. 

When he posts a highlight reel at the wee hours of the morning, he doesn’t expect anyone to view it. It’s three in the morning, after all. Seungmin is slightly surprised when he opens his story after a minute and notices one person had already viewed the story.

Minho.

Seungmin’s stomach is doing cartwheels seeing his name on the screen. From Seungmin has gathered, Minho isn’t really a night owl, so seeing him online at this hour doesn’t make sense to Seungmin. Why did he view it in basically a minute? His imagination takes the reins and he conjures up all possible scenarios. Maybe, and most simply, Minho is just awake at this time. Maybe he was already scrolling through stories and chanced upon Seungmin’s at the end of the line. Or maybe… does he have notifications turned on like I do for his stories? Then does that mean he...

His heart rate skyrockets at the concept of it. He doesn’t care that it’s fueled by delusion—only that it’s not an impossibility. Seungmin doesn’t get a minute of sleep at all.

=====

Kim Seungmin is running on fumes today. A whole night fantasizing about Lee Minho potentially liking him back has consumed every waking thought. He wants to talk to someone about it, but Chan is decidedly too busy with his manager duties to insert gossip time during work hours. Chaeryong is working remotely for today to deal with some medical stuff at home.

The sparseness of the cubicle farm has become all too familiar to Seungmin—one less desk filled as Minho moved to the opposite wing to integrate with his new team better. It doesn’t stop him from walking around their floor to visit, though. Seungmin is neck deep in a tricky spreadsheet when he notices a familiar mop of jet black hair pass through his peripheral vision.

“Miss us already?” Seungmin asks. ‘Miss me already?’ is what he wanted to say.

“Just passing by. I needed a break,” Minho says, deadpan.

“Are they overworking you already?” Seungmin asks, trying not to show too much worry.

“It’s all good, I just didn’t get a lot of sleep,” Minho replies. 

Seungmin is caught speechless for a second before gathering himself back together. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Don’t stay up too late, though.”

“I could say the same thing,” Minho says with a dry laugh. “See you around, Seungmin.”

He just waves Minho goodbye and tries to focus on his spreadsheets. Succumbing to his embarrassment, he nestles his face into his hands. He can only hope Minho didn’t notice how red his cheeks were.

Figuring out a world where he and Minho aren’t on the same team shouldn’t be as hard as Seungmin makes it out to be. The two had hardly worked on the same things over the past two years. The only major thing in common would be having the same manager, so there is absolutely nothing that needs to change in Seungmin’s daily work. 

Seungmin realizes that something is definitely wrong when he specifically asks for a complex annual project that Minho used to handle. It was supposed to go to Jeongin, but Seungmin made up some excuse to add it to his own plate. Going through the project files, his admiration for Minho rises a few notches higher. His files are clean—spreadsheets with pristine formatting, perfect tables and charts, and everything is labeled properly. It’s Seungmin’s corporate wet dream. 

What sells it over the edge is how Minho made everything so simple. The project is probably the hardest to execute among their unit's annual deliverables, but even with Minho’s perfect handover document, Seungmin struggles to set it up himself. He knows he could try a bit harder to get it done, but Minho is literally a two-minute walk away from his desk. He sends a message asking for his availability to consult for the project and gets an affirmative for right before the end of working hours.

The confirmation sends a giddy shiver up Seungmin’s back. He tries to deny it, but Chan can obviously see that something’s up. Seungmin can keep a secret though—as much as he knows it, he doesn’t want to look desperate in front of his coworkers. He has an image to uphold.

Seungmin spends the rest of the day doing anything else but hyperfocusing on the meeting he has at four forty-five. He locks in and breezes through his to-do list in a bizarre flow state—tuning out even Chaeryong’s afternoon gossip invitation. 

He doesn’t notice Minho entering his cubicle space and lightly tapping on his chair. Seungmin’s flow state is, however, interrupted when Minho gingerly places a hand on his shoulder. Seungmin yelps, and finds Minho standing behind him, chin tilted slightly downward to make eye contact. The visual overlaps with the first time he saw Minho differently, and the words fail to form on his tongue.

“Are you that happy to see me, Kim Seungmin?” Minho says with a chuckle. “I sent you a Slack message to ask where you wanted to have the consultation but you were on DND.”

That snaps Seungmin out of his reverie, and he takes a hand to scratch at his neck. “Oh yeah, sorry. I needed to finish some stuff .”

“It’s alright, but don’t run yourself to the ground. Are we good to just talk here?” Minho asks.

Seungmin nods. Minho swivels an empty office chair towards him and plops down. “What did you need help with?”

The meeting takes longer than the fifteen minutes Minho blocked, and Seungmin only notices the time when the sky is completely black outside the window.

“Shit, is it so late already?” He glances at the laptop screen and sees a blinking seven on the bottom corner. “Minho, I’m so sorry! Did you have any plans tonight that I interrupted? I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s okay, I didn't have anything tonight,” Minho replies.

“Then let me buy you dinner!” Seungmin hastily offers.

Minho smiles, but declines. “You’re fine. I’ll take you up on that offer next time.” 

‘Next time.’ 

Seungmin smiles. “Okay, let me know when you’re free,” Seungmin says, shrugging casually to mask the sudden thumping in his chest. "Even if I’m not in the office.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Welcome back to the overtime club, I guess. It’s like you never left,” Seungmin jokes.

“I’m still here, you know,” Minho corrects.

“You know what I mean,” Seungmin says with a lighthearted pout.

=====

Kim Seungmin is terribly good at his job. The initial consultation he had with Minho was enough to set him up to execute the project flawlessly. Meaning, he had lost his reason to keep asking for Minho’s help.

The dinner offer hung like a dangled carrot in front of Seungmin, but he doesn’t want to push. Especially since Minho is also very busy with his own work. So he decides to wait it out; Minho will reach out when he feels like it. Or maybe Seungmin could walk by his wing on the way to the pantry and mention it in passing if Minho doesn’t bring it up within a week or two.

Either way, Seungmin doesn’t even make it to the end of the week before the opportunity presents itself. He’s having a late lunch break with Chan and Chaeryong in the floor’s pantry area and watches Minho walk in. Next to him is another guy—presumably one of his new teammates. Seungmin feels like his stomach is cramping. The way the other person places his hand on Minho’s shoulder—it would be platonic in any other case, but Seungmin sees red. He averts his gaze from the blasphemy in front of him and suddenly his store-bought bulgogi is infinitely more interesting.

“Hey, Seung, you okay?” Chan asks mid-chew. Seungmin nods once, not trusting his mouth when he’s upset.

“You sure? You seem pretty upset there,” Chaeryong follows up.

Seungmin looks up and makes eye contact with Minho who is by the water cooler. His expression is unreadable as always. They both look away simultaneously. “Yeah, I just don’t have much of an appetite.”

The rest of the work day passes by. Chan has a date with his girlfriend and leaves on the dot, leaving Chaeryong to keep Seungmin company. She decides ten minutes after five that she prefers not to be a member of the “overtime club” and apologetically excuses herself to go home. Seungmin is left alone in their side of the office, furiously typing whatever emails he had put off earlier in the day. He’s not really mad, but Jihyo used to say his face got “scary cute” whenever he focused too hard on something—not that Seungmin ever got what she meant.

A feeling of deja vu settles in Seungmin’s skin as he notices how alone he is in the area. Nayeon herself is a “don’t kill yourself over work” kind of woman, so she never puts in overtime she doesn’t need to. Seungmin thinks he should start taking it easy, but he also kind of wants to go for that promotion. Before he can ponder his future, a ghost of a touch brushes against his shoulder.

“Oh my god!” Seungmin exclaims to the empty office.

“Chill out, it’s just me.” It’s Minho, wearing his backpack on his shoulder, laughing at him.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, Minho!” Seungmin smacks him in the arm.

“You were thinking too loud,” Minho replies. “I had to save you.”

Seungmin performs a practiced smirk. “Oh yeah? What was I thinking about then?”

“For sure, you were thinking about where you’re treating me to dinner tonight,” Minho says coolly, returning the smirk.

Seungmin’s brain short-circuits. Minho doesn’t know that a million thoughts had run and crashed in his overstimulated brain.

Minho takes the non-response as a subtle rejection. “Or were you too busy?”

“No!” Seungmin jolts. “Not too busy. I can do dinner tonight. What about that Japanese place a few blocks away, opposite the bakery?”

“Sounds good,” Minho beams. “We can go when you’re ready.”

Seungmin had packed up his things in record time. If Minho had any suspicions about why, he didn’t voice them out. They walk the familiar route to the restaurant, passing by a bank, two convenience stores, another bank, and a 24/7 pharmacy. The restaurant is full for a Thursday night, but the hostess guides them to an empty booth and leaves them to go over the menu.

“You can go ahead and order anything you want,” Seungmin says as he scans the menu is his hands. 

“I was joking about you treating me,” Minho says. 

“I wasn’t.”

“Seungmin, I make more than you now.”

“I don’t want to feel indebted for your help, Minho.”

Minho exhales through his nose. “Fine. Then the next one will be on me.”

The next one—there will be a next dinner. Seungmin raises the menu booklet higher to hide the rosy tint spreading on his face. The waitress seemingly materializes out of thin air and proceeds to take their orders, sparing him from marinating in embarrassment. Seungmin was prepared for Minho to order extravagantly as a joke, but he orders a normal set meal and a side of dumplings, which Seungmin orders for himself too.

Twenty minutes is a fast serving time for any self-respecting Japanese restaurant. But Seungmin—for the love of God—is unable to form a halfway decent conversation starter. Minho sees his almost-pained expression and breaks the ice for him. 

“How’s the team?” he asks, as if Chan doesn’t already update him every other day when something new happens.

“Not much,” Seungmin sighs. “SM was asking for some out-of-scope data on their annual campaign today.”

“We stopped giving them freebies two years ago!” Minho complains.

“Hasn’t stopped them from trying, though,” Seungmin chuckles.

The two fall into a more comfortable pace after that, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. They don’t know anything deeper than what they’re voluntarily shared in a team setting for two years. In Seungmin’s case, he barely knows anything about Minho. 

Well, not barely anything. Minho is two years older than Seungmin. They went to the same university but had never crossed paths. Minho has an economics degree and graduated magna cum laude. He used to go to an all-boys boarding high school. He lives near Seungmin and drives to work. Minho likes Japan—or so Seungmin assumes, having no real proof other than the older man’s Instagram handle and a few posts. So they wrap up their dinner in peace—Seungmin gets to pay the bill without Minho trying to sneak his card to the hostess in between bathroom breaks.

The waiter returns to their table with Seungmin’s receipt and his takeout order in a paper bag—a simple rice bowl with teriyaki chicken on top. 

“I thought you were on a diet,” Minho jabs with exaggerated confusion. 

Seungmin pouts, and the expression on Minho’s face loses its edge. “I was going to give this to the doorman at my building.”

“Oh,” Minho dips his head at those words. “I didn’t… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Seungmin relaxes the pout into a soft smile. “I won’t ask you to treat my doorman to dinner the next time we go out.”

Minho laughs—it’s that hearty, high-pitched, eye-crinkling laugh that makes flowers bloom in Seungmin’s chest. He looks away from Minho while he can still help it; he strides to the exit, catching the staff member manning the door by surprise.

Stepping out into the cool embrace of an evening in May, Seungmin stops just outside the door, looking up at the starless sky. Minho catches up with a jog and tilts his chin higher in solidarity. As if having one more pair of eyes would pull back the curtain blocking the stars from view.

“Did you want a ride home?” Minho asks without looking back down. A distant airplane goes at a snail’s pace across the deep glow of the panorama overhead. 

Seungmin hears the question. He doesn’t know how to respond—this situation has never happened before. Minho has never offered anyone a ride home. He knows he should think about how to respond, but it’s a fairly simple question. And while Seungmin is not a superhuman, he should be able to muster a simple answer.

“Sure.”

The way home is familiar, grounding—the car passes by the same side streets and Seungmin gets to catalogue in his mind the same set of establishments. But the ride itself is an entirely new experience. The ordinariness of it is exhilarating. Minho’s steely gaze trained to the road, how his left hand sits on the steering wheel, the way his thumb wraps around the gear shift, and the once-numbing silence that fills Minho’s car makes it all too real.

Seungmin gets off at his stop, which is a fifteen-minute walk to his house. He's spent the last thirty minutes of the ride preparing for this moment. 

“Thanks for the ride, by the way,” Seungmin says as he unclasps the seatbelt.

“Sure thing,” Minho replies. 

“You’re getting the next one, okay? Tell me when you have time. I know you’re out there doing your big boy manager stuff now,” Seungmin jabs humorously. 

At this point, Seungmin knows the rest of the script—he gets off, closes the door firmly but not too strongly, and waves the car away with a relaxed smile.

But Minho—being Minho—doesn’t follow the script. 

“How about next Thursday?” Minho asks before Seungmin can pull the car door open.

“Yeah, next Thursday sounds good,” he responds on autopilot. 

The deviation is but a four-second blip in a script two years in the making. The rest of the drop-off goes as planned. Seungmin gets off, closes the door with just the right amount of push, and gives the car a wave while smiling. But Seungmin knows the smile on his face is no longer a smile of contentment—it brims with the excitement of something new.

There will be a next dinner. Seungmin hopes there will be a next one after that. Minho rarely offers anything to anyone without being asked; he doesn’t let people in where they can make themselves fully comfortable. But somehow, Seungmin is offered the chance to enter Minho's world.

Everyone knows it—Minho doesn't do big gestures. But there he was, sitting in the driver’s seat, making the grandest gesture he could possibly make. And that, to Seungmin, meant more than the whole world.