Archive of Our Own

It’s said that even a tiny pebble rolling down a hill can cause a landslide. Just one little guy, set rolling in motion by a careless foot or paw or dropped berry or whatever it is dicking around on top of mountains, crashing into other slightly bigger guys just right until the whole lot comes tumbling down. Rocks probably wait all their lives for that. Sitting around until something sets them spinning, one careening free fall rollercoaster ride, once in a lifetime thrill. After, they just sit somewhere else, on top of a house or something, and dream of doing it all again.

Right now, there was a very tiny rock in the heel of Seungmin’s left shoe, and that fucker wasn’t going anywhere. It wouldn’t do to slide off his patent leather loafer on public transport, though surely the other animals around him would be capable of worse. He was better than that. Or, rather - he held himself to a standard that would never allow him to be seen as worse. Even if he was taking the airport commuter train alongside them, because the company didn’t reimburse transfers for flights under three hours and he sure as hell wasn’t paying for it. At least he was stacking up a nice balance of time off in lieu with all these weekend flights to and from the partner office, though he had no idea when he’d ever be allowed to take the time off. Such was his joyful corporate life.

Some degenerate boarded the train one door up, sat wide legged in a free seat, and began blasting some bizarre genre of music that sounded like a clock on acid. Seungmin allowed himself one pointed sigh, a sharp rush of air from his nose, closed his eyes, and tried to black out. He’d seen some YouTube video about boredom being healthy so you should take a quiet train ride without headphones once in a while, and following that advice was, frankly, hell.

Airport travel never endeared him to the human condition. He’d vaguely thought maybe he’d get used to it, someday, especially with the amount of work travel he’d been doing lately, but no such luck. The screaming children still sandpapered his nerves, the clueless tourists who didn’t know how fast to walk or which side to walk on, slack jawed yawning idiots fumbling with their belts and boots at the security scanners. Strictly speaking, he didn't need to slide his shoes off as they sat below the ankle, but he'd take the indignity of shuffling through the scanners in his socks for a plausible excuse to get that damn pebble out of his heel.

Repacked post-scan, he shrugged his coat back on. He took his time brushing imaginary lint off the soft felted wool in that season’s must-have shade of fawn, and checked his moderately expensive but not overly flashy watch. Precisely two hours before departure, as per guidelines. As he crossed through the assault course of the duty free, trying not to breathe too hard lest he pass out from a toxic combination of competing perfumes, he contemplated his game plan. Perhaps an overpriced coffee and mediocre sandwich, wedge himself in a corner and read over his meeting notes, check some emails. At least this was his own time-

“Seungmin? Seungmin! It is you, hey!”

Seungmin stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes, counted to three, then opened them, turned, and pretended to be pleasantly surprised.

“Jisung. I didn’t realise you were flying out today,” Seungmin greeted him amicably, even though he was already seeing visions of dirt thrown on the coffin of his peaceful airport hours.

“Yeah! We have a training at HQ,” Jisung fell easily into step beside him, and Seungmin contemplated how many times he could bash his ankles with the wheels of his cabin case and still get away with it. For all the hours Seungmin spent in service, he still eschewed the company merch, preferring a simple and clean office style. Jisung had no such qualms, dressed in a lurid company hoodie with an extremely unsubtle logo across the chest. At least he was in jeans. Seungmin didn’t think he could be seen next to a member of the airport sweatpants club.

Jisung caught him looking, glanced down at his neon orange torso. “Oh, yeah. I heard it makes immigration nicer to you, countrymen rooting for their homeboys or something. Why are you over?”

“Feature kickoff,” Seungmin replied. “Working with a team from the other office I haven’t met before, figured it’d be good to establish relations before we get into it. Plus, I’m running low on vodka,” he added, drily eying up the deals in the duty free as they continued through the capitalist maze of departures.

Jisung squawked out a laugh. Seungmin cracked a small smile. He didn’t really care about making work friends, but for all he could be a bit loud sometimes, Jisung was one of his closer colleagues. They’d both joined at around the same time. Their office was a newly established overseas branch of an established company, and it wasn’t unusual to be hopping over to said company’s HQ every other month or so. Their company enjoyed moderate fame in their home country, contributing a reasonable percentage to GDP and paying all their taxes, too, so perhaps Jisung was right about a bit of merch getting you through smoothly.

“Minho’s not here?” Seungmin asked, to make conversation, and also to be a little bit of a bitch. Jisung did indeed go quiet for a moment, looking away blindly at the rows of chocolate boxes.

“Yeah, no, he’s gonna dial in or something. Soonie’s been looking off - one of the cats,” he clarified, at Seungmin’s knitted brows.

“You couldn’t dial in, too?”

“Nah,” Jisung shook his head, fiddling with his hoodie strings.

“He’s too good at getting out of these things,” Seungmin said archly, scanning the concourse to see how busy the least objectionable coffee shop seemed. Not bad, so he steered them that way.

“That’s what I said,” Jisung whined.

“What a waste of a hotel room, too,” Seungmin added.

“That’s what I said too!” Jisung said, louder, then shut up with a cartoonish snap of the jaw, flushing at remembering where he was and who he was talking to.

Given neither of them had an ounce of subtlety, most of the office had worked out they were dating by now, but they were still far too easy to fluster by pointing it out. Seungmin begrudgingly liked them together, really, though watching them flirt in front of him could be a bitter pill to swallow when he himself had been single longer than he really cared to think about any more.

So it was. Maybe he’d sit next to some hot guy on the plane, make casual conversation and then dinner plans, swap numbers and keep seeing each other when they could, until - haha. Who was he kidding. It hadn’t happened yet and it likely never would.

He must’ve been making a peculiar expression, because Jisung was just looking at him weird.

“You good? I’m not bugging you, right?”

“No,” Seungmin lied, “Just hungry. I’m going to get lunch. Did you eat?”

“Nope! You have a company card, right? They wouldn’t let me have another one after I lost it at the karaoke night last year-“

Seungmin rolled his eyes and bought them their stupid coffees. Jisung rattled off some abomination of a sugar shot half something half something else mocha latte; Seungmin had felt compelled to tip something extra for the way a mask of pain descended over the poor overworked employee’s face.

Coffees acquired, they found somewhere to perch amongst the chaos of other people’s strewn about baggage, and Seungmin nodded along as Jisung yapped away about this and that. It wasn’t the worst, hanging out with Jisung. He knew a lot of people and invited a kind of trust that meant he was useful for sensing the currents of office politics, and Seungmin quietly noted a couple people to try and schedule coffee with in the week. He was even kind of funny. Also actually very good at what he did, even though he didn’t seem it.

Thus they passed the hour or so before boarding amiably enough. That said, it was with relief that he discovered they had separate seats on the plane so he could buckle in, pull out his laptop, and stare at spreadsheets until his vision swam.

One involuntary plane nap later, they landed. Seungmin wiped the drool off his chin and packed away his laptop with sleep-clumsy fingers, vowing to catch up in the hotel room later. Immigration was smooth, the airport quiet, but he noted Jisung did make it through just slightly faster - perhaps he could stoop to a more subtle piece of merch. They split a cab to the hotel, but Seungmin refused dinner together, citing a busy day ahead, and ducked out to a local shop.

Back in his room for the night, he ran a bath and sat in it, staring at the ceiling with supermarket sushi balanced on his knees, and contemplated that maybe he was pretty good at being bored already, headphones or no.

—

As soon as Seungmin set foot on the office floor of his HQ counterparts, he was spotted.

“Seungmin!” A broad smile and a firm clap on the shoulder to go with it.

Chan was head of the overall department, and a people person through and through. Even though he was always fantastically, ferociously busy, he had a great memory for people and sharp attention to detail. Of course he knew when Seungmin liked to get into the office. Of course he was greeting him warmly, personably, though the deep eyebags his concealer wasn’t quite concealing said he was probably dog tired and would have to think about how to spell his own name.

“Mr Bang,” Seungmin greeted him back with a small smile, just to be annoying, because he knew Chan hated it when his subordinates were too deferential. Chan rolls his eyes in mock grievance, but knew better than to make too much of it, more or less used to Seungmin’s humour by now.

“We’ve got coffee and pastries set up in the meeting room,” Chan briefed him as Seungmin hung up his coat. “You probably ate at the hotel, sorry, I should’ve said-“

“It’s fine,” Seungmin cut off his spiralling. “I can eat a small pastry to be polite.”

Chan nodded, smiled tightly. Seungmin stopped, looked at him again properly.

“Why are you so nervous?”

“Oh!” Chan suddenly took a keen interest in a spot somewhere just above Seungmin’s head, a clear sign he was thinking how best to deflect. “Um. Nothing work, sorry, just a little… you know. Personal stuff.”

“Right.” Seungmin didn’t quite buy it. Chan was one of the most professional people he knew - he didn’t bring personal to work. Right?

Coat hung, he followed Chan through the maze of corridors to their base for the day, a spacious 8-person meeting room called ‘Cheddar Trap’. All the meeting rooms were named after incomprehensible in-jokes from ten years back, and Seungmin hated it. It sounded stupid when you had to ask where something like ‘Foot Lettuce’ was, and it was unfair on newer employees, shut out of all this archaic company history.

The smell of fresh coffee and warm dough hit him as soon as they entered. Despite having just eaten, saliva pooled in his mouth - one of the more laudable aspects of this country’s culture was the baking. Butter, sugar crystals, spice. He swallowed.

Nonchalant, he picked a seat towards the far end of the room and smoothly unpacked his bag; laptop, charger, mouse, notebook and pen, water bottle. He took a seat, waited politely.

Chan, still hovering by the door, empathetic as always, must’ve seen how Seungmin’s nose kept flaring slightly as he delicately inhaled the tempting aroma floating towards him from the tray.

“You should dig in,” He smiled, small and indulgent. “They’ll just get cold.”

He couldn’t argue with that logic. He poured himself a coffee - offered one to Chan as a token gesture, knowing he’d decline - and took a tempting looking jam crown, balancing it on a napkin. It had fruit in. That made it healthy, right? Fine to have as a second breakfast? He’d go to the hotel gym later, run it off.

Settled back in his place, he picked it up delicately for a nibble. Just a little one. He’d just sunk his teeth in, ready to bite, when-

“Good morning!”

Seungmin, caught off guard, automatically attempted to stand up and greet the new arrivals, as would be polite. Unfortunately, he had really committed to biting the pastry, and these two actions were incompatible.

The effect was that he stood, while also ripping the pastry out of his mouth, flaky pastry shards flying everywhere. His grip loosened by the sudden shock of embarrassment at this happening in front of strangers, the wretched thing slipped from his grasp, and landed, jam side down, square on his laptop keyboard.

Dumb, he looked down. Then he looked up. He could feel smears of jam and pastry stuck to his chin. He wanted to die more fiercely than he ever had before, even more so than when he tripped at graduation, even more so than when he sneezed red wine on a first date. No. This was work, he had to spend months with these people, and he just looked like a greedy and idiotically clumsy idiot in front of his new colleagues.

The guy in the door burst out laughing. Full, unrestrained belly laugh, while Chan clucked around and shoved tissues and sanitiser at him, and the guy in the door leaned on it for support, wiping tears from his eyes. Seungmin could feel colour creeping up his neck, until he was sure his whole face was scarlet, attempting to clean up with what little dignity he had left.

“Oh my god, ok, I’m sorry, that was too funny. Alright, you good? Ok, lemme back out, we’ll try it again-“ And door guy fully stepped back and closed the door, before opening it with a bright and sunny “Good morning!” just like before.

Seungmin could not so easily forget. He was staring daggers at the doorway, still blushed crimson.

“Whew, tough crowd,” Door guy whistled, unfazed. “I’m Changbin, nice to meet you.”

He stepped forward for a handshake. Seungmin ceased scrubbing jam off his fingers with a sanitiser/napkin combo and took it firmly, hoping his hands weren’t gross, but also kind of hoping they were as petty revenge.

Changbin’s hands were warm and soft. They were attached to very well muscled arms snugly fitted inside the company T-shirt - that logo had never looked better, stretched out slightly across the chest. Worse still, his face was aggressively handsome, filled out in all the right ways, twinkly eyes and all. Seungmin swallowed, a dry crumb of pastry stuck in his throat, and tried not to let his eyes water as he nonchalantly broke away for a sip of water. Shit. Hell. What shitty star was he born under that this was his luck?

Changbin sat down on the opposite side of the table, and he and Chan made easy small talk while Seungmin glowered in his corner and occasionally made prickly little responses when he was spoken to, prodding at his laptop despondently, trying to untense his shoulders from where they’d crept up to around his ears.

A little while later the last invitee showed up - a guy with artfully messed bleach-ginger hair and wearing this season’s indie darling designer, who must’ve been around Seungmin’s age but had a youthful, open mind of air around him, as if working life hadn’t actually crushed all brightness out of him yet.

He sat, dumping an armful of laptop and other associated accessories as he did so, then stuck a hand out to introduce himself, grinning broadly, eyes barely open.

“Jeongin,” he said, and as soon as they were done shaking hands, he crammed an entire custard danish in his mouth and chewed happily.

“…Seungmin,” said Seungmin, reclining slightly, eyes a little wide in horror.

Changbin leaned over conspiratorially. “See, whatever you do, we’re used to this kid, so… Don’t worry about it.”

Despite knowing it was meant to put him at ease, he still felt an indignant prickle of heat at the back of his neck that the incident wasn’t just dropped. He opened a notepad window just to vehemently type ‘FUCK OFF!!!!!!’ and delete it again, out of sight of Changbin’s smiling eyes.

When Jeongin had inhaled two more pastries, snakelike, they got down to business. Seungmin shook off his lingering tension in favour of being a consummate professional, polite and just enthusiastic enough without seeming psychotic. He was pretty sure he saw Changbin blink in surprise when he switched it on, kept his pleased smirk internal at having surprised him, and continued to boss the hell out of the meeting.

It was, all in all, very productive. They hashed out a number of important details and timescales for the project, established core division of responsibilities, frequency of check-ins - all the somewhat tedious but extremely useful agreements that kept an international collaboration hanging together.

When they wrapped up, it was lunchtime. They emerged from the meeting room, blinking in the light, to see a tall, composed and extremely beautiful looking man leaning against the wall opposite, frowning into his phone as he scrolled through something or other.

“Babe,” said Changbin easily with a smile, crossing easily over to his side, slotting his arm through the crook of Hyunjin’s like they were two pieces of chain, always linked. Hyunjin didn’t react to Changbin’s playful puckering up, pocketing his phone with his free arm, rolling his eyes with something short of genuine exasperation. He started walking, naturally dragging Changbin with him, immediately beginning to complain about something or other - Changbin turned just enough to give a brief wave goodbye, and was dragged away.

“They’re..?” Seungmin started to ask before he could catch himself. When he turned to Chan, he saw him staring at their retreating backs, too, a flush creeping down from the tips of his ears. Interesting. “Chan?” He prompted, and he startled.

“That’s Hyunjin,” he said, croaky, obviously shooting for normal and missing. “Yeah, Changbin’s other half, office power couple, ha-ha. Hyunjin’s in HR. Always be on the right side of HR, hm?”

“They can’t ever break up, Hyunjin’s too powerful.” Jeongin intoned grimly, oblivious to Chan’s weirdness.

“And much too much of a sweetheart to ever do workplace retaliation,” Chan interjected brightly, maybe hopefully. “Anyway - want to get lunch? Menu looks good today.”

“Mm,” Seungmin nodded intelligently, head still spinning with the faint traces of Hyunjin’s no-doubt expensive perfume, and the three of them headed to the company canteen.

Seungmin followed the lead of the other two, tapping his key fob at the reader to log that he got lunch, picking up a pleasingly tactile wooden tray, plates and cutlery, and shuffling with the rest of them to pick up their food. Salads, multiple, then sides, then the main, plus crusty bread and whipped butter with flaky salt. If food was all he cared about he’d move in a heartbeat, but sue him, he liked the vibe of his chosen home city better, the sun over the river, his carefully curated network of friends, seeing his home baseball team on the weekends.

Mired in such thoughts of home he followed his new teammates to a table on autopilot, sat down. Quite unintentionally he had a diagonal line of sight on Changbin and Hyunjin, sat on their own a little way away, legs tangled unsubtly below the table.

Ugh. Couples. In front of his fucking salad. One of the perks of the workplace was, for the most part, people didn’t make out in front of you and remind you how single and pathetic you are. Watching them, Changbin’s easy smile as he cracked a joke, Hyunjin’s head tilted back in a full body laugh as his glossy hair caught the light, he wasn’t even sure who he was meant to be feeling more jealous of.

“You doing ok?” Chan asked, forever annoyingly observant, having clocked him zoning out.

“Great,” Seungmin replied reflexively, stabbing his fork into his salad, chasing a cherry tomato round and round.

Chan, not a subtle bone in his body, did a full body twist in his chair to try and figuring in what direction Seungmin had been zoning out in, and naturally, saw Changbin, now cooing and waving a forkful of something in front of him, and Hyunjin, grimacing and leaning back as far as he could.

“Ah, yeah,” Chan turned back and nodded in apparent understanding. “They are pretty gross.”

“I wouldn’t say gross,” Seungmin said, because that would be impolite to agree with.

“You should absolutely say gross,” Jeongin said, pulling a face around his (over-full) mouthful, before swallowing. “PDA in the office should be illegal. Nobody’s gonna call them out on it, though. HR shadow power…” He said darkly, before stuffing more bread in his face. Truly Seungmin had no idea how he did it without choking.

“How long have you worked here, Jeongin?” Seungmin asked, desperate to change the topic.

“About a year,” Jeongin again didn’t really bother to finish chewing first, and Seungmin had regrets. “You?”

“About three months. I started a little after they opened the other office. I worked with Chan before, though.”

“Took me two years to get him out of that shitshow,” Chan smiled easily at him. “Refused to relocate. But then we opened an office, so… I had to poach him over.”

Seungmin nodded. “I’m grateful.”

“Where were you at before?” Jeongin asked, curious.

They passed the rest of lunch swapping horror stories from their previous company. Seungmin got immersed enough recounting the various sins of his former colleagues - the bad ones - that he even forgot to keep tabs on Changbin and Hyunjin. By the time they finished up and headed downstairs for coffee, they were long gone, and Seungmin resolved to bury himself in documentation for the rest of the day and squash his tiny stupid little proto-crush beneath his mountainous to-do list.

Reality was not so kind.

At roughly 5pm, Changbin’s smiling face appeared from behind his laptop screen, so startling Seungmin, deep in focus, that he almost screamed. As it was he gave an undignified kind of squeaky hiccup and jumped back on his wheeled office chair, skittering away.

Kindly, Changbin did not laugh out loud, but his face went pink with the effort of not doing so.

“Hey,” he said, simply, leaning on his desk all casual.

“Hey,” said Seungmin, much more guarded.

“Wanna get a drink tonight?”

Seungmin made a show of double-checking his calendar.

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah? What else were you going to do - room service dinner in your hotel room?”

That had been exactly his plan. Damnit.

Aiming for virtuous, nonchalantly he said, “I was going to go for a run. Best way to see the city.”

Not missing a beat, Changbin winced and said, “Ew, cardio.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “You clearly work out, though.”

“You’ve been looking?” Changbin preened, flexed a little for show, and Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I can lift and still hate cardio. If you did more strength you’d probably overtake me.”

Seungmin eyed one wide bicep dubiously. His expression made Changbin laugh, a bright staccato, and his stupid dumb animal brain lit up a happy little light in the back of his head. Not a good sign. Not at all.

“Who else is coming?” Asked Seungmin, stalling.

“Oh,” Changbin glanced around, as if he hadn’t considered it. “I’ll see who’s about, gimme a sec.”

“Mind if I reach out to the product team? I ran into one of my colleagues at the airport - he might be at a loose end, too.”

“Sure,” Changbin seemed a little distracted, tapping away at his phone, no doubt posting in some team Slack channel. After a second, he paused, looked up, “Sorry, what did I just agree to?”

“You can’t multitask?”

“It’s a wonder I can walk and talk at the same time.”

“You ok if I ask one of my office colleagues along?”

“Oh, sure, more the merrier. Lemme do the rounds, meet you by the lifts in ten?” Changbin glanced down at Seungmin’s laptop, still open. “If you’re done for the day. Sorry. Didn’t ask.”

Seungmin looked down, three items still glaringly undone on his list, and shrugged as if it couldn’t be helped. “I’m out of the flow now. It can wait. The point of these trips is to socialise.”

“You can make it sound less like a death sentence,” Changbin chuckled. “Alright, sorry for interrupting, not sorry for threatening you with a good time. Tell your colleague we’re going to Two Cups. Back in a bit,” and he left to go harass others into joining, probably.

Seungmin opened up Slack, and, already questioning his earlier determination that he shouldn’t go to this thing alone, drew up Jisung’s chat. It was mostly Jisung sending him stupid gifs in the middle of company presentations that were boring them both to tears, just because he wanted to see Seungmin break.

—

Seungmin Kim:
Hey Jisung. Some of us are getting drinks somewhere called Two Cups - want to join? We leave in ten but join whenever.

Jisung Han:
wow funny story our team were already going there
do these people only go to one pub or what

Seungmin Kim:
Plausible.
Anyway, great, see you down there.

Jisung Han:
see you!!

—

Well. That was that. Seungmin sent himself some rough notes on what he could remember of whatever the hell he was doing before Changbin came along, packed up his stuff, and padded over to the lifts.

Changbin was flanked by Jeongin and a couple other people in company hoodies and jeans, so probably software developers. Chan was absent - ‘personal stuff’, Changbin explained breezily, as was Hyunjin, which was not explained, and Seungmin didn’t really want to ask lest it was taken as being too strangely interested.

Two Cups was a small place, just round the corner from the office, bizarrely decorated with a lot of novelty deer ornaments and beer mats. They had a wide selection of taps and even more in brightly lit tall fridges by the bar, in front of which Jisung was eagerly browsing, his face lit up. A couple of snappily dressed women were either side of him, pointing out this can or that. Of course the product design team dressed better.

Jisung turned around, a bright pink can of some abomination clutched in paw, and his face brightened even more on sighting Seungmin.

“Seungmin!! Let’s join tables, c’mon, we’re over there-“ and Seungmin was dragged, via the bar, to a cluster of unevenly heighted tables in the corner with a random assortment of wooden chairs and bar stools gathered round. When everyone had a glass of something in front of them and a rickety seat to call their own, they did introductions. Seungmin was wedged in between Jisung and Jeongin with Changbin just across, and the others were variously introduced (Seungmin forgot all their names instantly), and they set about debating various virtues of their work software.

Seungmin didn’t say much, following along, interjecting when anyone said anything truly stupid (“I’d suggest actually it doesn’t make sense for all our JIRA projects to share the same status labels, it’s a huge pain in the ass”). He was aware of Jeongin’s bony elbow occasionally poking him in the side when he got too excited leaning in to talk to the design girl across the table, of Jisung’s slightly too strong and sweet cologne wafting off his skin, and of Changbin’s eyes occasionally on him from opposite. Mostly of that. Seungmin would sense it, and as their gaze met for just a second, Changbin would smile, and Seungmin would look away.

He was drinking a little too fast. Too warm, he prised himself out of his corner and went to the bar for water before deciding on his next pint. After a beat, there was a very slight brush of his arm as someone leant on the bar next to him at his side, and his chest clenched unhelpfully when he realised who.

“Doing ok?” Said Changbin.

“Yeah,” Seungmin nodded. “Just a little warm.”

“Yeah, the ventilation in here is awful,” Changbin agreed, also pouring himself some water from the jug on the bar. “Those guys don’t really shut up, do they? Especially your friend.”

“Yeah, Jisung’s like that,” Seungmin couldn’t help but look back at him, gesturing livelily to illustrate some point, the alcohol making him fond.

“You’re close?”

“By proximity,” Seungmin shrugged. “We get on.”

“I should really go visit you guys out there sometime,” Changbin mused. “Free company sponsored city break if nothing else.”

“It’s a nice place.”

“Hard to leave?”

“Yeah.”

Feeling some undercurrent he wasn’t sure what to do with, Seungmin headed to the fridges, looked at the colourful labels making all the various kinds of fizzy hop water look more appealing.

Heat at his back as Changbin leaned round him to point something out. “That one’s good,” he said, near enough that Seungmin felt breath on his neck.

He stopped himself flinching by sheer force of will, ignoring the prickle of heat blooming where his exhale had reached, and distracted himself by leaning in to inspect what Changbin had actually pointed out.

He squinted at the melting bubbly letters scrawled over neon green hills, bright blue rabbit heads half submerged in liquid-looking grass. “Radioactive… Bunny… Sludge?” Seungmin frowned at Changbin, who was still hovering uncomfortably close. “Are you serious?”

“I actually am!” Changbin (thankfully) stepped back, hands thrown up in placating motions. “It’s a solid hoppy IPA with an overtone of blueberry that actually works, instead of just being novelty bullshit.”

Seungmin looked dubiously back at the can, then sighed and picked up two. Changbin raised eyebrows at them.

“If you’re bullsitting me, you’re suffering too,” Seungmin grumbled, taking them over to the bar to pay.

“Aw, thanks babe,” Changbin cooed, forcing Seungmin to look back at him sharply. Changbin didn’t budge or apologise, didn’t dodge his look, just smiled serenely like nothing was wrong.

Seungmin pressed his card to the reader and hoped his hair was long enough to cover the pink on his cheeks, begging his overactive heart to calm down. Jesus Christ. He thought he’d get over this kind of thing as he got older. Sadly, hot men + alcohol still did it for him, so it seemed.

He wanted nothing more than to grab his can and run, but he was raised better than that, so he concentrated instead on pouring Changbin’s pint for him, tipping the glass to pour onto the side so it didn’t foam over, as his first university boyfriend had taught him. It hadn’t lasted long, but every time he needed to pour something, he thought of him. He hoped he was doing well, wherever he was.

The glass was full, and he felt a little calmer. He pushed it towards Changbin without looking at him, switching to pour his own. He felt Changbin watching him. Seemed like he wasn’t getting out that easy.

“You ever worked in a bar?” Changbin asked.

“No,” Seungmin said. “Clearly it wouldn’t have helped, anyway, given they always make you pour your own cans out.”

Changbin laughed, and Seungmin quashed the little stab of I-did-that pride in his chest. “True,” he said.

“My first boyfriend,” Seungmin added, uselessly determined. “Taught me in university.”

“You’ve only dated guys?”

“Yeah.” Seungmin said. Then amended, “Only interested in guys.”

“Right, right,” Changbin chuckled. “You could get all the girls you wanted, if you wanted them.”

“Right,” Seungmin agreed uneasily, feeling like that statement sat a little too close to mockery for his liking.

“And what has your current boyfriend taught you?”

“How not to exist,” Seungmin definitely felt defensive at that, even though it was a natural progression, even though, if he felt less cagey about it, it would be a flattering inquiry of interest. And if the person in front of him was actually single. That too.

Changbin, thankfully, took note of the snappish note to his answer and dropped the questioning. He looked a little pensive, actually, and Seungmin wasn’t sure what that meant, so he just picked up his glass and gestured back towards their table, not really waiting around to see if Changbin followed him.

Sandwiched back in at his previous spot, Jisung instantly looped him in on the stupid debate he was having with one of the pretty girls from his team.

“You have to eat the wasabi if they give it to you,” he was saying, “It’s bad manners not to! Right?”

“No, no,” said the girl, leaning in to place one hand on Jisung’s bicep, as if holding him back. “If you don’t like it, and who actually does, just leave it! It’s your food!”

Seungmin couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows, just a little. Maybe he personally didn’t date much, but he knew what flirting looked like. Probably. Anyway, this seemed a little…

“Seungmin, you’re a polite and well mannered boy,” Jisung whined, “What’s the correct sushi etiquette?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Seungmin said, flatly. “I’m pretty sure Minho’s taken you to more of those places than I’ve ever been to.”

At the mention of Minho, Jisung’s face screwed up, kind of like a muppet whose puppeteer had just clenched their fist. Seungmin almost felt a little bad. The girl drew back, still sober enough to sense danger, though her hand lingered on his arm, forgotten.

“He’d eat the wasabi,” Jisung pouted. “But that’s because he enjoys the pain and suffering of himself and others.”

“Right,” Seungmin nodded, starting to enjoy himself. “That’s always correct etiquette.”

“Isn’t the point of manners that everyone has a nice time?”

“No,” Seungmin smiled. “It’s to feel better that everyone else is making mistakes that you aren’t. Then to argue about the mistakes you did or didn’t make.”

“What’s the etiquette on greeting your seniors while eating a pastry?” A chipper Changbin chipped in. Seungmin’s fleeting good humour popped like a soap bubble, and he scowled across the table. “This morning, Seungmin- …Ow!”

“What was that?” Seungmin asked, sweetly.

“Just. Hit my leg against the table.” Changbin smiled through gritted teeth, leaning down to rub his injured shin.

No such thing had happened. At the mention of his name, Seungmin had kicked him quite viciously under the table, and that was that. Whatever it took.

The others didn’t really question it. Partially because only really Jisung and the girl were paying attention, and she’d leaned in to whisper something in his ear, her hair a pretty curtain hiding her lips from view so Seungmin couldn’t even try and read them. Probably something suggestive, though, from the way Jisung went rigid.

He turned to Seungmin, wedged in between Jisung and freedom. “Hey man,” he said, a sick kind of pink flush creeping up his neck. “Can I get out?”

“I don’t know, Jisung. Can you?”

Jisung leaned in closer, so Seungmin could smell the sweat under his cologne. “Girls don’t count,” he hissed. “We agreed.”

“So while you’re here, he’s..?”

“Yeah, man, whatever,” Jisung stood and made as if to just climb over Seungmin, so he scraped his chair back and scrambled out of the way. Jisung and the girl left, her arm linked delicately through his, and Seungmin stood and watched them go, a deep frown on his face.

“You good?” Changbin asked, leaning back from his seat at the table. “You look very-“ and he pulled his own face into a cartoony scowl, and Seungmin instantly shook himself out of it, not having not realised what his face was doing. He nodded, not really trusting he’d say the right thing without sounding overly moralising or bitter or, worse, virginal.

“You wanna leave?” He said, and Seungmin again nodded, realising he very much did want to be anywhere else.

Leaving their half drunk pints abandoned - it had, actually, been a pretty good beer, but it was turning sour and acidic in his guts and his mood was giving along with it, so - they stood outside in the cool air, looking at the half dead shrubs coming to life with the spring.

“Which hotel are you in?”

“Main Street.”

“I’ll walk you,” and his tone left no real room to disagree, so Seungmin let him.

They walked side by side through the streets, quiet in the early evening gap between rush hour and evening plans. The silence between them was comfortable. Seungmin didn’t really want to be pushed, and Changbin wasn’t pushing.

Still, it seemed too soon that they arrived. They paused, a little awkward, at the threshold.

“See you tomorrow, I guess,” said Seungmin, just for something to say.

“I guess,” Changbin echoed, his eyes too cool on Seungmin’s, looking for something. He looked just a beat too long for it to feel innocent of meaning. “Take care, alright? Drink some water,” and he leaned forward to place one warm hand on the bare skin of Seungmin’s forearm where he’d rolled his sleeves up, and it lingered there.

Seungmin had an insane urge to ask him to come up, to get one more drink at the hotel bar, anything to prolong this something snapping between them, hanging oily like perfume in the air. But Seungmin had spent a long time reining himself in from impulses like these. Changbin was a colleague, spoken for, just being nice.

So all Seungmin did was smile blandly, say, “You too,” and walk the lonely path back to his hotel room, staring at his reflection in the hotel elevator, feeling stupid for reasons he couldn’t - wouldn’t - name.

—

The next day, he did see Changbin, but only briefly. He came into the office trailing a neat little carryon suitcase in lurid pink with some cartoon character splashed across it, and caught Seungmin staring across from his chosen hotdesk.

“What is that?” He asked, unable to repress his curiosity.

“It’s a suitcase, Seungmin, I’m pretty sure you have one too.”

“No, like… That,” Seungmin gestured emphatically.

“What, you don’t have this guy back in your country?” Changbin poured down at the thing, with its flat topped eyes and a winsome grin. “I guess not. The name translates as something like ‘Pabbit’. Pig rabbit. Obviously, the half I empathise with is-“

“Pig,” Jeongin interjected before Seungmin could say the same.

“The rabbit, obviously, for its delicate and sensitive nature,” Changbin’s smile didn’t break for a moment as he crossed over to aggressively ruffle Jeongin’s hair while he protested loudly, and everyone else actually trying to do work unsubtly slid their headphones on, noise cancelling active, probably used to this kind of nonsense.

“Where are you going?” Seungmin asked, hoping it sounded appropriately nonchalant and not just pathetic.

“Visiting our outsource partners,” Changbin said. “Sorry it overlaps with this project’s kickoff, but our schedules didn’t really line up otherwise.”

“Right,” Seungmin said, as he ignored the bud of disappointment blooming in his chest. He looked down at his screen. Was there anything they plausibly needed to discuss right now?

When he looked up again, Changbin was at his desk, leaning on one arm, smiling irritatingly.

“You saying you’ll miss me?” Changbin smelled good. Amber, patchouli, some dark woody nonsense like that, and Seungmin wanted to scream.

“I’m saying I was expecting to have more in-person time to discuss production details,” He answered into his laptop screen, not wanting to meet Changbin’s eyes. “But we can figure it offline, no worries.”

“Mm,” Changbin hummed agreement, a little thoughtful. Seungmin could tell he wasn’t moving away, and begrudgingly looked up to meet his eyes again. Changbin cocked his head just a little, as if thinking something over. But all he did was smile, and say, “Well, it was great to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your stay here. I’ll catch you next time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Seungmin agreed, feeling something in his chest hollow out at the thought. “Next time.”

Then Changbin was gone, and Seungmin had all his little tasks to do, but his head was full of pink Pig-Rabbits, chasing each other round and round and round.

—

The rest of the week was fun enough. He made good progress on the production planning, met the rest of the engineers involved in the project at HQ, got lunch with Chan often, and grew closer to Jeongin over coffees at the in-house cafe.

Each evening he ran along the streets of this second city of his, feeling with each traversed street something closer to familiary etch itself into his mind, thinking - ah - I wonder who else has crossed these streets, come these paths, these ways. Did he-

And as soon as his thoughts ever turned that way, he grit his teeth and picked up the pace, drowning out his traitor mind in the sound of his soles slapping the pavement.

At the end of the week, he flew home. Watched the clouds passing by. Thought of their planes crossing over in the sky, and every muscle in his leg itched, Pavlovian response to not being able to run it off. But it would pass. It always did.

—

THREE MONTHS LATER

—

Changbin Seo:
That’s a wrap!! Thanks for all of your hard work, partner

Seungmin Kim:
Thank you. I appreciate all of your help.

Changbin Seo:
You gonna be at the company party next month? :D

Seungmin Kim:
I hadn’t booked it.

Changbin Seo:
Do it!! You might piss off the admins but I’m pretty sure they’ll still let you in, loads of people sign up year.
Trust me company parties here slap, you should come

Seungmin Kim:
I’ll think about it.

—

FIVE MINUTES LATER

—

To: [email protected]
Re: Company Party Travel Booking

Hello,
Apologies for submitting this late, but would it be possible to attend the upcoming party? I work in office [XXX]...

—

ONE MONTH LATER

—

Seungmin glared into his cup of company sanctioned beer, 3.5% ABV, a session IPA. It was his third. He kept looking up, feeling eyes on him, and then seeing Changbin looking away. Sometimes not looking away. It had to be coincidence - it had to be. There was no way.

He turned, smiled and nodded along to the conversation he was standing at the edges of, pretending along. But the alcohol was making him blurry, making his stupid thoughts harder to ignore, so he looked back and-

“Hey,” Changbin said, dead in front of him, smiling like it was easy. “You ok? You look a bit out of it.”

‘I keep feeling like you’re looking at me but that would be insane,’ Seungmin thought, still sober and in control enough to keep that internal. Instead, he just smiled and nodded like an idiot, a glove puppet, piloted beyond his control. Shut up. Stay normal. Want nothing.

“Want to get some air?” Asked Changbin, and Seungmin found himself nodding again. Shit. He did want something. Worse, he’d admitted to wanting something.

Changbin took him by the wrist, his fingers hot round Seungmin’s bones, and he let himself be led out of the sweaty crowded pseudo-club floor into the cold shock of the outside. The smoking area was quiet, just muffled dance music and laughter from inside, string lights swaying in the breeze.

Seungmin exhaled, just for fun, watched his breath puff in front of him. He wanted to laugh. He tilted his head to the side - Changbin was watching him still, a weird indescribable emotion on his face. Amusement, sure. Something else. Something else Seungmin wouldn’t dream of naming.

Anyway, the beer was making him stupid or perhaps just reckless, so he smiled a little tighter and asked, “Like what you see?”

And maybe the alcohol was stronger than he thought or maybe he’d finally had a psychotic break, because all Changbin did was lean against the wall and say, “Yeah.” So nonchalant, like this was all OK to be happening.

Seungmin had to look away. Look out, his back on that same wall, feeling every grain of the rough brick through his thin flimsy shirt, looking at the dark and the lights and trees punctuating it. “Oh,” he said, with every ounce of intellect he could muster (unfortunately - not much.)

“Is that OK?” Changbin asked, from beside him. Seungmin still couldn’t bear to turn his head, move at all, in case it broke whatever soap bubble dream encased them right now.

“By what measure?” He said, stalling. Cold, his traitorous shoulders started to shake, knocking out a fluttering beat on the rough wall.

“Hey, hey,” Changbin crooned, more urgent, in front of him now, hands rubbing up and down his upper arms as if to warm him up, start a fire there, and Seungmin was forced to look down. “You good?”

“I’m not allowed to want this,” Seungmin said, the only thing he could think of to explain this. To say - God, I wish this were real. I’m not religious but, God, if you’re out there, I wish it were.

“You can want this,” Changbin said, barely a whisper, somehow even closer now. Seungmin can just about feel the breath of his words on his lips. He felt like a thin fishing wire had been wrapped around his lungs, and was being tugged forward, inexorably, inescapably, squeezing the life from him but also dragging him on towards some future, some doom.

Stupid, moral conviction, tugs a name from his lips - “Hyunjin-“

“-Is fine with this,” Changbin’s eyes crinkled at the corners as if touched by his concern.

So. Seungmin was out of reasons to stall. It couldn’t be that simple. Could it?

But he didn’t need to answer, because Changbin’s lips were on his now, soft and damp, tender and tentative or something in between, his arms caging him in, leaning forward and pressing in the weight of him, staining like ink. He kissed back, but numb, still unable to believe.

He opened his eyes. Changbin had pulled back, and he was cold again, too much frigid air between them. His mind was a mess, and Changbin was looking at him like he was rethinking if this was a good idea, like maybe Seungmin wasn’t into this enough, maybe plain wasn’t enough, and that line threaded round his chest caught incandescent.

Sudden hot anger threw him forward, rushing into Changbin, sudden urgent desire to wipe away any doubt about the strength of his conviction. It was violent, the way he threw his might against his, all teeth and tongue and open longing, forcing him round and back against the wall instead, Changbin letting himself be thrown. It felt like battle as much as surrender, hands framing each side of Changbin’s jaw, long fingers in the back of his hair, colliding their skulls into one.

After some indeterminate while Changbin prised Seungmin away, strong arms forcing them apart, Seungmin held away feeling adrift in midair, still instinctively surging forward, thinking his lips were dripping blood and all he wanted was more. Changbin, for his part, was flushed and panting and looked more or less like he’d been attacked, except he was wide and glassy eyed with wonder.

“Hey,” Changbin said, teeth catching on his bottom lip, Seungmin’s eyes tracking the movement, hungry. “Not to be a broken record, but really - you good?”

It was cold outside. This had not changed. Seungmin still wanted to split Changbin’s ribcage open and crawl inside. This too, had not changed. But to stand in front of him and be so close and somehow still feel like he was irrevocably, permanently fucking it up - that felt like change. He began to tremble, and this admission of bodily weakness and the fact that he couldn’t ever be normal about this set his tight-leashed anger running loose.

He shuddered violently, wrenching himself loose, shoved forward at Changbin with both palms open, wordless cry of fury ripped out of him. Changbin gaped.

“Stop- Stop fucking with me!” Seungmin heaved, pained, like he’d been set on fire. “I can’t take this. I need-“

But he couldn’t articulate what he needed, because to his horror, he began to cry. Fat hot tears slipped down his cheeks at his throat closed around the words, and he folded in on himself, frustrated to the extreme with all the things he could never get another person to comprehend. His loneliness. His broken, fundamental unworthiness, rotten at the core of him, bound to always watch and never participate because he is not allowed. He watched his tears splatter on the concrete at his feet and could not bring himself to look up.

Changbin was there, of course, because he was generally a good person, and he was making soothing noises and running warm hands over Seungmin’s back, the slippery fabric of his thin satin shirt clinging, cradling him in a kind of half embrace as they both crouch and the distant noises of the party they’ve ditched mock them from afar.

He was thinking: ‘I’m going to die someday and this will be the closest I ever got to anyone else’.

He smeared mucus on the sleeve of his nice shirt - Changbin making some noise of protest he ignored - and tried to compress himself into a point so singular he might just disappear.

“You want some water?” Changbin said, distant, as if from a great height. “The cocktails here are lethal, sorry, they get the best of all of us.”

Seungmin said nothing. Not to disabuse him of the notion that he was more drunk than he was, or to beg him not to go. Changbin smoothed his palm over his back one last time, patted him on the shoulder, then stood to go.

“Hang tight, I’ll get you some.”

Seungmin did not uncurl until the sound of his footsteps had faded. He counted one, two, three, then slowly, undignified on his hands and knees, crawled up to his feet. He leant against the wall for a couple more breaths, deciding what to do next. The answer was easy. He did what he’d been doing all these months to escape this, and ran away.

—

He lay flat on his back on the hotel bed and counted his breaths in and out, measured. The room span a little. He’d ducked round the perimeter of the venue, into coat check to grab his things - too fucking cold not to, even if he wanted to be dramatic about it - stood shivering outside and called a cab. The whole time his heart beat a frantic rhythm of ‘what the fuck are you doing, what the fuck, what the fuck’ with a harmonising layer of ‘I hope he doesn’t find me before I can fucking leave.’

He had made it out, sat with his forehead on by window glass the whole way back to the hotel. Still feeling half made of bees, he’d ordered a shot of vodka at the hotel bar, just for fun, then another because it hadn’t hit quickly enough, and now he was here, watching the ceiling refuse to stay still, thinking about all the ways he was a disaster.

He’d very nearly let himself be honest, and that was never a good idea. Work, eat, run, sleep. These were his permitted activities. Having a trainwreck affair with his hot and basically-married colleague from the other office was not on his agenda.

So he did all he could do, curled up around the plush hotel pillows, and tried not to dream.

——

The morning was not kind.

Thankfully, his alarm was already set to roughly when he needed to be. Not thankfully, the shrill beeping hammered nails into his skull, and his stomach churned uncomfortably when he sat up, blinking in the weak light slicing through the sloppily thrown together curtains.

He’d mostly packed last night before the party, partially his neat habits, partially a little foresight of a potentially self destructive mood. All he had to do was shower, throw on his set out clothes, brush his teeth, shove last night’s outfit in and zip it up.

It still took him about an hour to drag himself through this routine, reluctant at every step, head pounding, but he got there. He couldn’t face the hotel breakfast, nor the possibility of running into any other hungover colleagues, so he pulled on his coat, picked up his suitcase, and resolved to hide out at the airport until his flight.

He slunk out of the lift, dropped his keycard in the box, and headed towards the doors. There was a man, tall and sleek in long coat and scarf, glossy hair pulled back under a soft knitted beanie, and he was standing in the way.

Seungmin’s stomach heaved for reasons entirely unrelated to the alcohol still swimming around his system.

“Hyunjin?” He said, and cursed the way his voice curled up at the end, weak little question with an obvious answer.

“Seungmin.”

“Were you waiting for me..?”

“I know when you typically book your cabs to transfer to the airport.” Hyunjin shrugged, easy. Fucking HR powers. “Way too early. You’ve got time for a coffee, right?” He phrased it like it was a question, out of politeness, but Seungmin could tell it wasn’t.

Seungmin could only gape at him, well aware it made him look stupid. Hyunjin smirked a tiny smirk, just a little quirk of the lips, and took advantage of his stupor to close the distance between them in two easy strides and tug the handle of his wheeled cabin bag from his grasp. He turned neatly and went right out the door, and Seungmin had little choice but to follow after him.

They didn’t exchange a word as Hyunjin led them down the street to a little place Seungmin had never glanced twice at - mostly because he’d assumed it was an antiques place. But ducking into the dark wood interior he was hit with the strong aroma of fresh coffee and cinnamon, and realised the armchairs he’d seen in the window were for sipping in, not for an estate sale.

Hyunjin parked his suitcase next to a leather sofa tucked in one corner behind a long table of checkered ebony, and wasted no time heading to the counter to place his order.

“Oi, Felix,” he called into the back, and a blonde head appeared from the kitchen doorway, wide eyed and freckled.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” he said, and the sweet face belied a deep voice. “Two seconds, I just need to take something out of the oven-“

Hyunjin pretended to roll his eyes but Seungmin could see the fondness there. Fondness that was not quite extended to him when he turned and somewhat impatiently gestured for him to just sit on the sofa.

He sat, sinking into the deep plush leather, and picked at the threads of his jeans as he looked around at the weird collection of wall art - lots of kittens, shelves of porcelain knickknacks, hanging fabric, macrame plant pots strung up in the corners. Hyunjin leant at the counter, chatting in soft tones with Felix as he wrangled the coffee machine into producing espresso.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good. You?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Hyunjin gave a sidelong glance in Seungmin’s direction, and Seungmin hastily took intense interest in the fig plant beside him, pretending he hadn’t noticed.

“You should talk to Chris,” Hyunjin drummed his fingers on the countertop, his affect casual, his words heavy. “He’s getting all weird at work. He never lets his personal stuff show, but lately…”

It might’ve been from the steam hissing out of the machine as Felix frothed a jug of milk, but Seungmin suspected Felix’s cheeks were turning pink for another reason. He didn’t say anything as he concentrated on pouring out two lattes, and Hyunjin let him. But even after Felix plated up two impeccable looking croissants and slid them onto a tray with their coffees, Hyunjin didn’t move, until-

“I’ll think about it,” Felix muttered, adjusting the napkins on the tray.

“You’ll text him,” Hyunjin said.

Felix sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll text him.”

“Attaboy,” said Hyunjin, and reached over to ruffle Felix’s silly hair with a sudden wild grin, then picked up the tray and glided over to Seungmin, all marble faced again.

Seungmin shifted awkwardly on the sofa, caught in its deep and comfortable embrace. Hyunjin plonked down next to him without a second thought, so close their thighs could nearly touch, and Seungmin shrank into the corner of it, tried to shift round so he could vaguely face him.

Hyunjin made no such move, staring dead ahead, as he calmly picked up a coffee to sip, nudging the other infinitesimally towards Seungmin.

“Some conversations are best had side by side, not looking at each other,” Hyunjin said serenely, lips at the rim of his cup. “Psychology.”

Seungmin nodded, not really sure what kind of conversation this was going to be, and swivelled back to face ahead, picking up his own cup to cradle in his two sweating palms. He took a mouthful; good. Balanced, not too bitter or milky sweet. He glanced at the croissant, but didn’t dare touch it until Hyunjin did his.

“Changbin thinks he upset you last night,” Hyunjin said, setting his cup delicately on the tabletop so he could fold his hands neatly in his lap. “Did he?”

“Um,” Seungmin looked down at his own hands, the swirl of foam in his latte. “I think I upset myself.”

Seungmin could feel rather than really see Hyunjin nod thoughtfully beside him. “Go on,” he said.

Seungmin wished he could sink even deeper into the sofa, hide in the folds of it. He could feel the truth sticking in his chest. But perhaps he was still a little drunk from the night before, or maybe he was just tired, or maybe Hyunjin’s calm expectant patience beside him did something to shake it loose. He swallowed, and the words came clumsily up his throat. “It’s hard for me to believe people. When they, um. Do that. Especially when, well… You, and your relationship, and all.” His tongue felt clumsy in his mouth, his face hot, honesty pulled from him as reluctantly as teeth.

“He wasn’t lying. We’d talked about it. We have an arrangement, if there’s someone else we want to…” he trailed off, coughed discreetly. “But I understand it’s unconventional. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“I don’t think I was thinking of you that much,” Seungmin muttered. “I still went for it.”

“Consider my thanks retracted, then,” Hyunjin said, and it took Seungmin a solid ten seconds to realise he was joking. Probably.

“You’ve got some kind of damage?” Hyunjin asked, and Seungmin nearly choked on his next, ill-timed sip of coffee. Hyunjin actually laughed at that, quietly, and added, “It’s ok. We all do.”

“Sure,” Seungmin said. On reflection, the coffee did have a sour edge to it. “I don’t date much. I say it’s because I have no time for it, but everyone else seems to manage fine.”

“Mm,” Hyunjin said. “It’s not because you wouldn’t be desirable.”

Seungmin had to turn to look at him then, check he hadn’t grown an extra head or something. Hyunjin fixed him with a sideways look. “What? I have eyes, and a functioning brain. I say only facts.”

Seungmin felt the pickle of a flush creeping up from his collarbone. “Right. Thanks.”

“So that’s it? Lack of experience?”

“Because there’s something wrong with me. I think. I mean. Fuck me, why am I talking about this? No offence. I just-“

Hyunjin sighed, pitying. “I diagnose you with Nice Boy Syndrome.”

“What the hell is Nice Boy Syndrome?”

“Well,” Hyunjin splayed his long, elegant fingers across his knees. “You grow up in a nice family, good education, hobbies, friends. You have a nice life. You land a nice job. But you can’t shake the feeling that you don’t really deserve any of it - you never worked hard enough, never went through anything that bad, and now your nice life is just various nice shades of nice grey. Nothing’s wrong, but you can’t really feel like it’s right either, you know?”

Seungmin thought over the words, and exhaled a shaky laugh. “How the hell did you get in my head? That on my HR file, too?”

“No,” Hyunjin shook his head, curve of a self deprecating smile. “I’m just patient zero. Changbin said this all to me on date three, or something.”

“You don’t seem like someone who’d struggle with self doubt,” Seungmin said.

“I got better, a bit,” Hyunjin shrugged. “It is unfortunately true, what they say about love. You are an unwatered flower without it. You might do ok, but… you probably won’t bloom.”

Seungmin had a sudden and intense urge to cry. He folded forward and pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes, and willed it not to happen. Unexpected, he jumped as Hyunjin’s warm hand rubbed firmly, reassuringly between his shoulder blades.

“Let it out. It’s just us in here. I know you barely know me, but… it’s ok. Trust me. Felix won’t say a word, either. You’re ok.”

“Ugh,” said Seungmin wetly, beginning to tremble with it, hot tears seeping out to run along his fingers and down his wrists. He was a quiet crier - always had been - but it felt like an effort, now. But still, there was the hand in his back, and the soft hum of kitchen things, and the occasional sound of a car sweeping past on the street outside, and he had just been told that maybe he was ok, or going to be.

After some time, he felt like he might be able to uncurl. Hyunjin patted him on the shoulder and said, “You should eat a croissant. Butter cures all sadness. More than that, Felix’s baking cures all sadness.”

Seungmin nodded, unsubtly snagged a napkin to drag over his blotchy face, and picked up the croissant to take a bite. It was perfect; flaky, light and crisp, just the right amount of greasy. Maybe he was hungry, after all. He took another bite, and another.

“You really like pastry, huh,” remarked Hyunjin, but there was no snark to it, just something that was almost like a fond ribbing between friends. Hm. Friends. Maybe they could be friends?

Seungmin went to put it down, brush crumbs from his mouth, but Hyunjin just said, “Go on, it’s so out of your work image. You seem all put together, but…”

“I could say the same,” Seungmin said, when he’d swallowed his mouthful. “You see kind of scary, but you’re really not.”

Hyunjin nodded, not taken aback in the least. “Yeah. It used to be accidental, now it’s kind of on purpose. It’s too easy to be nice to everyone then, whoops! Mass redundancies! Time to fire everyone you were ever nice to even though it’s literally not your fault or their fault. So. Only get close to those you can be real with,” he took an almost self conscious last sip of latte, looked down at the table for a bit too long. “Not something I had to do at this company, don’t worry! But once is enough.”

“You knew Changbin from before?”

“Yeah. He basically got me this job. Even after I had to hand him his notice. But, like, we weren’t exactly platonic, even back then… He knew me enough to know I hated doing it.”

“Hm,” Seungmin hummed, and drained his cup too.

“You should probably actually get to the airport now. I’ll hail you a cab on the company card.”

“…Thanks.” Seungmin stood, a little awkwardly from the low seat, his legs tingling. He tried to pay but Felix waved him off, bidding them both goodbye with a bright smile.

Seungmin tugged his carryon behind him only onto the street, Hyunjin at his heels. They stood in the mild sunshine of the morning waiting, Seungmin shifting from door to foot.

“So-“ he began, aware the taxi would arrive sometime soon.

“You’re good,” Hyunjin said, and they faced each other properly at last. “Do what makes you happy. Believe people when they say they like you, alright?”

A car, sleek and black, pulled up next to them.

“Take care,” Hyunjin said, and leaned in to press a dry kiss to Seungmin’s cheek. His lips were soft, and he smelled of smoked wood and lilies. He didn’t wait before turning and walking away, his long coat trailing behind him.

Seungmin, taken completely off guard, stood still for a minute. But the driver was there, taking his case for the car boot, and he mumbled his thanks before calling out, “Bye! See you next time!”, to which Hyunjin just raised one elegant hand in response, not breaking stride or turning back.

Seungmin sat in the back of the taxi, and they pulled away, passing Hyunjin quickly so he disappeared into the distance, a small dot. His mind buzzed with static and his heart wouldn’t stop jumping, possibility he coildn’t act on fizzing through his veins. He wanted to throw himself out of the cab and go back. But he also wanted nothing more than this sweet imagination, dreaming, the brush of lips.

—

TWO WEEKS LATER

—

Changbin Seo:
In town next week. You about?

Changbin Seo:
Hyunjin’s coming too.

Seungmin Kim:
…Yeah, I’m about.

Changbin Seo:
Great. Can’t wait to see you :)

Seungmin Kim:
:)

—

THE END...

… OR THE BEGINNING..?

—