Work Text:
“Don’t you think it’s weird that he’s always here?"
Chan deadpans, lifting his gaze from the bright computer screen he’s been staring at for the past five hours, leveling his friend with a look he hopes comes off as incredulous. Truth is, his eyes sting so much, he’s pretty sure what he ends up with isn’t as multifaceted.
“He’s our boss, Seungkwan.”
“So what?” Seungkwan says, rolling his chair over from his cubicle and directly into Chan’s space, “Does he not have an office of his own?”
Sooyoung pokes her head out of the top of their shared cubicle wall, conveniently situated right next to Chan’s, only her big, doe eyes visible. She blinks once, twice, the shimmer on her eyelids glittering under the fluorescent lighting, before she speaks.
“Seungkwannie is right.”
The top of her head disappears for a short while as she lowers herself back down, before she reappears at its side, her hands folded over her chest.
“It’s pretty weird,” she says casually, walking the short distance and leaning onto the back of Chan’s chair, “Like, I’m pretty sure his extensive list of PhD topics doesn’t cover staring at his employees for hours on end.”
Seungkwan purses his lips, thoughtful, as he leans back into his chair. “Doesn’t he have a masters in psychology? Maybe he’s doing research.”
“Yeah, but it’s developmental.”
“Oh, right. Sociology, then?” Sooyoung wonders, her gaze trailing off into the distance as she thinks. “Didn’t he win an award or something, for, like, a book he published in the field?”
A published— what? Chan blinks. “Why do you people know so much about our boss?” he asks, confused. “Also, I’m not sure being nosy can be considered sociology,” he says, in reference to the people watching. “Seungkwan would be on his fifth book by now.”
He gets ignored, as their seemingly impossible to derail chatter about Wonwoo’s educational endeavors and accolades continues. So, all Chan can do is take this chance to look at him clearly.
He’s currently overseeing their floor, leisurely walking around the many cubicles, and resting at the top of the staircase in intervals. The way he walks is poised, elegant, with his hands clasped behind his back. He doesn’t talk to any of the employees padding around him, just watches them as they work, not even taking an opportunity to nod his head in approval or disapproval from time to time.
Chan tries to look even closer, once he goes back to the staircase and stills. At the neat, black hair styled to perfection, at his silver rimmed glasses that glint under the fluorescent lights. Attention shifting to his cat-like eyes, the serious gaze that ever so often lingers on his row, near his cubicle. Handsome, smart, competent.
Yet, still, Chan really can’t say that he gets it.
Sure, their elusive boss, is handsome, rich and, apparently, stupendously academically inclined, but Chan truly doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about, and not for a lack of trying.
“What are you doing?” a familiar third voice cuts in, belonging to none other than Yoon Jeonghan, incredibly close to Chan’s ear. Like, alert HR, close to his ear. Chan startles, the wheeled chair creaking beneath him as he flinches away from the perpetrator.
Jeonghan looks delighted by Chan’s reaction as he straightens back up, his face shifting into something sinister as he smiles sweetly. “If you’re not gossiping about something interesting, I’ll email finance to deduct the bonuses from your pay.”
Sooyoung gasps, her manicured hands flying up to her mouth in shock. “You wouldn’t.” She worked extremely really hard this quarter to ensure smooth cooperation between the company and its main investors, so Chan can see how the loss of her bonuses could be potentially life-alteringly devastating.
Seungkwan narrows his eyes antagonistically, not willing to fall prey to Jeonghan’s schemes. “You’re only able to say that because Seungcheol-hyung runs finance.”
“Exactly.” Jeonghan replies, smiling like the cat that got the cream as he walks closer to Seungkwan to pinch his cheek dotingly. “My baby. You’re so cute when you’re cranky.”
Seungkwan yelps, his hand flying up to soothe the sting, as Jeonghan turns around to look at Chan. He points a finger at him, labeling him as spokesperson, and orders. “Now spill.”
Chan decides to indulge Jeonghan before Seungkwan gets even snarkier, now actually worried he might lose his bonus, “Seungkwan and Sooyoung-noona think it’s weird that the CEO keeps coming down to our floor.”
Jeonghan looks pensive as he takes Chan’s explanation in, like he’s seriously thinking about it.
Sooyoung looks scared as she holds onto Jeonghan’s shoulder, her eyes pleading, “Are our bonuses okay?”
It takes exactly fifteen seconds after Sooyoung’s question for Mingyu to appear, suddenly materializing behind Jeonghan, “Did someone mention bonuses?”
Jeonghan ignores Sooyoung in favor of turning to Mingyu, looking him up and down suspiciously, “Didn’t Joohyun ban you from leaving your floor?”
Mingyu straightens, fussy. “What are you going to do, report me to HR?” he asks, chin tipped up prudly. “I am HR.”
“No,” Jeonghan says. “I’ll report you to Joohyun.”
That seems to strike the fear of God into Mingyu, as his shoulders immediately fall, and he stutters out, “I— No! Noona is in a meeting!” He shakes his head, and takes one of Jeonghan’s hands in his, “You can’t—”
It’s at that moment that Junhui drops by, completely incognizant of the situation, as he places some neatly stacked reports about a project they’ve been working on together onto Chan’s desk. He’s about to say something, eyebrows scrunched together, but his eyes drift to the stairwell Chan was ascertaining just seconds ago and widen.
“Wow, he’s here again,” Junhui says, stunned.
It’s enough to send Seungkwan and Sooyoung into overdrive, as they blabber about how they’ve noticed this too, the crowd surrounding Chan’s cubicle and the commotion it brings, obviously, drawing more attention than it should.
Chan sighs, “You guys need to calm down before—”
“Is everything alright?” a low, serene voice calls out, perfectly still among the frenzied tones of his coworkers turned friends.
“— he comes here.” Chan finishes, under his breath, so no one can hear him.
Of course, it’s CEO of Jeon Corporation, Jeon Wonwoo, in the flesh, and closer than he’s ever been to Chan ever since he was first hired. Close enough to see the open notebook Chan writes explicit swears into, and draws his coworkers getting tortured onto the back of, whenever he’s annoyed.
There’s a page open right now, that Chan wrote into just hours ago, an amalgamation of every way he knows how to say fuck, including an artistic interpretation of the word in scribbles. As his eyes follow Wonwoo’s gaze, he finds that, yes, his boss is currently reading one of his rants, simply titled, ‘Fuck the Busan 2027 Seaside Project’.
Chan rarely ever sees anything in Wonwoo’s stare, as it’s almost impeccably still at all times, but he swears that for a fraction of a second, he identifies something in his eyes terrifyingly akin to amusement.
He slides a hand across his table slowly, like he doesn’t want to scare Wonwoo with any sudden movement, and shuts the notebook, shooting an innocent smile he hopes is cute enough to aid him in not losing the job that pays his bills and his extensive wine bottle collection.
Chan, feeling a sense of responsibility as these people— although crazy and completely at fault for the commotion— are, unfortunately, all huddled around his desk, decides to speak up.
“Yes, we’re sorry for the commotion,” he starts, “We were just— Talking about the, um—” he pauses, his gaze flickering around his desk frantically as he searches for something, anything, to mention, before stilling once it comes to mind, “Busan 2027 project.”
Chan might be stupid. Seungkwan usually says he landed this job purely because of his charm, and he might genuinely be right. Out of the fifteen projects they have due in the next months, Chan chooses the one he wrote an offensive acrostic poem about, that his boss read just seconds ago.
“Yes!” Seungkwan chimes in, “The Busan 2027 project. I love that one.”
Sooyoung nods, the movement frantic, as she detaches from Jeonghan. “It’s my favorite.”
“I’m—” Junhui starts, probably feeling compelled to speak. “I’m impartial to it, honestly.”
One of Wonwoo’s eyebrows shoots up at that, and Chan startles at the sight, so he jumps in, once again. “See!” he says, with a smile. “Everything is fine.”
It’s so obviously not, and Chan feels like it’s almost insulting to try and persuade a person of Wonwoo’s calibre to believe otherwise, but there’s a lot at stake here. His wine fund, for one.
Wonwoo’s gaze flickers to Jeonghan, probably vying for official confirmation from someone who is supposed to be their superior. All Jeonghan does is shoot him a quick thumbs up and a sturdy nod, which Wonwoo seems to take as confirmation enough with the utmost seriousness.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” he says with a nod, his hands clasped behind his back. He shoots another lingering glance towards Chan’s desk before departing, and Chan swears he saw the beginnings of a smile form on his face as he looked at, what Chan presumes, is his notebook.
He doesn’t get to ruminate on what that look could mean, because Jeonghan speaks after a brief period of gloomy silence. “He likes someone.”
Chan’s head whips towards him. “Huh?”
“I know him well enough to know that he’s acting weird,” he elaborates. “The monopoly over the third floor, that face he keeps making when he looks this way—” he says, as he counts on his fingers, “It obviously means he likes somebody here.”
“Fuck,” Sooyoung exclaims, her hands on her hips, looking worried. “I don’t know if I’m ready to bear the burden of being a CEO’s wife.”
“Who said it’s you?” Mingyu says, looking her up and down sassily. “And also I’m contractually obligated to penalize you for swearing in the work place,” he adds. He looks like he’s recalling the clause, as he recites, offhandedly, “Something, something— creating a toxic environment."
“Well it can’t be you,” Sooyoung spits out, like it’s obvious. Her expression loses its note of disgust as she waves a hand at Seungkwan, almost bored. “And it’s not Seungkwan, either.”
“What?” Seungkwan asks, affronted. “Why the hell not?”
“I agree with Sooyoung,” Jeonghan says, with a shrug, as he fixes his fringe in the reflection of the frosted glass that makes their cubicle walls. “I’m sure even the esteemed Jeon Wonwoo knows Hansol from IT has his eye on you.”
Any mention of Hansol’s name serves as a direct cue for Chan to shift his attention from the conversation and focus on something else, in an attempt to ignore the secondhand embarrassment that courses through his body like electricity when Seungkwan ends up stumbling over his words like an idiot trying to deny their mutual attraction.
He redirects his attention to the papers Junhui brought instead, picking them up one by one, sighing as he checks over the components all the while Jeonghan’s and Sooyoung’s teasing fades into background noise.
Junhui chimes in after a bit, as Chan looks over the financial statements, checking the corners for Seungcheol’s signature, “You guys should just check who.”
“Who what?” Seungkwan asks, having regained his ability to speak.
“Who Wonwoo likes.”
“How would we even go about that?” Sooyoung asks, through a confused grimace, her glossy pink lips in a pout. Jeonghan looks just as pensive, and Chan can’t recall a moment in time that he’s ever seen him this engrossed in a line of thought.
“I dunno,” Junhui answers, shrugging, his already crumpled dress shirt stretching with the movement. “Humiliation rituals are Jeonghan’s area of expertise. I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”
“He’s our superior, Jun-hyung,” Chan says, “I’m sure he has more important things to—”
“Okay, this is what we’ll do,” Jeonghan says, suddenly snapping out of his thoughts and interrupting Chan without any care for what he was about to say, a current of determination coloring his gaze red.
A whine cuts through Jeonghan’s act, and all eyes flicker to a miserable looking Mingyu. “Guys, can we please do this later?” he asks cutely, “I have a meeting in five and I really want to hear what hyung has to say.”
“Ugh,” Jeonghan says, stomping his feet, the seriousness his stare held just a second ago dissipating comically. “You’re so ruining this for me right now.”
He grumbles to himself for a few seconds more, before acquiescing. “Fine. Whatever,” he says, picking up the binders he left on Seungkwan’s table, “We’ll meet for lunch.” He’s met with a barrage of agreeing nods, and a discontent Chan’s sigh, as he was hoping he could go home for their break and eat the lunch his mom made for him.
“Can I just—” he tries, hoping he could at least drop by his apartment and pack it to bring to wherever they’re going to meet, but he’s cut off immediately.
“No,” Seungkwan says.
“But I—”
“No.”
“Can you let me—”
“No,” Mingyu interjects, before grinning sheepishly once Chan and Seungkwan look at him weird. “Sorry. It sounded fun.”
When they meet for lunch, an hour and a half later, the atmosphere is tense. They’re all huddled at one table, which is, honestly, impressive considering the amount of people that are occupying it.
Chan is a little perplexed, though, by the people around him. The third floor ensemble cast is there; Sooyoung, Seungkwan, Junhui and, of course, Jeonghan, so their presence isn’t surprising. What does confuse him is the apparent lack of Mingyu, who is the reason why this meeting was postponed in the first place, and the introduction of Seungcheol into the scheming.
“Where is Mingyu?” he asks, confused. He decides to not inquire about Seungcheol, for his own sake.
Seungkwan stops slurping his drink. “He ended up late to his meeting with Joohyun-noona and now he’s being tortured,” he says, casual, ramming his straw into his drink a few times to stir the ice. “That’s what he said to me. Verbatim.”
“I bet she’s just making him clean the conference room on fifth,” Junhui says, grinning. They all groan in unison, as they think about the filth that Mingyu must be braving right now.
“Hey! Finance is on fifth,” Seungcheol says, outraged. “What are you implying?”
“Seungcheol-hyung,” Chan starts. “You guys had to be deratified five times last year. I know because I had to be the one to give them the keys all five times.”
“Okay,” Jeonghan cuts into the conversation, “I can tell this is going to become a thing, and we really have more pressing matters to attend to.”
Chan blinks, already over it. “Pressing matters, as in,” he double-checks, “Checking which made up person Wonwoo made up likes?”
“Yes.” Jeonghan answers offhandedly, not even swayed by Chan’s sarcasm as he gets to explaining.
“It’s simple. We check who Wonwoo likes through a series of candid romantic interactions. All K-Dramaesque,” he says, tipping his chin towards Sooyoung, attempting to find an ally in her, “She knows what I’m talking about.”
Sooyoung nods fervently, eyes practically bulging out of her head from excitement, an equally elated Seungkwan mirroring her movement. “I do. I really, really do.”
Chan finds himself at a loss. “You’re going to jump him. Our boss,” he reiterates, tone steady, “You’re planning to jump the CEO of a company that we work for. Our—”
“—Boss.” Jeonghan finishes, smug. “Yes. And it’s not ‘you’re’ going to jump our boss,” he corrects, fingers flexing as he uses air quotes. “We are going to jump our boss. You’re not excluded.”
“What?” Chan exclaims, louder than he probably should. He lowers his voice after checking to see if his outburst garnered any attention, and adds, “Are you crazy? There is no way I’m hitting on my— on my—”
“—Boss? Not with that attitude you’re not,” Seungkwan says, through a mumble.
“No,” Chan shakes his head, before fixing a serious face at Seungkwan, and adding, “No.” He hopes it comes off as serious enough, but decides the attention has to come off of him immediately, lest they continue pestering him.
“If anything, Junhui-hyung should have a go at it, since it was his idea in the first place.”
“Well, no,” Junhui blinks. “I’m not on your floor.”
Chan pauses, his head snapping up. “You— You’re not?”
“No?” Junhui says, half statement, half question. “I’m on fourth. In the new wing.”
Seungkwan looks just as shocked. “But you’re on third all the time?”
Junhui shrugs. “You guys have the best vending machine,” he says, opening the lid and shaking the empty, plastic cup until some ice plops into his mouth.
Chan follows the movement with his eyes, and cringes when Junhui bites into a piece, the crunching sound unpleasant. That can’t be good for his teeth.
When Junhui continues, it’s muffled, “And also, Minghao from HR makes me secretly get him those wafers that come with the cat stickers from it. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”
“Maybe Wonwoo comes for the vending machine too,” Sooyoung mumbles to herself, after gnawing on a strawberry. She points its bright green stalk at Seungkwan like she remembered something, before asking, “Doesn’t he have a cat?”
“Okay. You’re seriously freaking me out,” Chan exclaims, uncrossing his arms and facing her. “How do you even know that?”
Sooyoung shrugs. “He has cat hair on his suit sometimes.”
“Cat hair?” Seungkwan says, uncertain. “I was sure it’s rabbit.”
A few seconds pass while Chan tries to wrap his head around what’s being said. “Why would he—” he finally tries, and gives up almost immediately with a shake of his head. “Whatever. Let’s talk about something else. Please.”
“You know,” Seungcheol starts, after a period of being quiet. “I could just, like, ask him who he likes.”
“No, Seungcheol-hyung. That’s stupid.” Seungkwan says, with a shake of his head.
“Not to mention, boring.” Sooyoung adds, just as disappointed by his proposal.
“Yeah, babe,” Jeonghan adds, with an eyeroll. “Ugh,” he exclaims, gaze landing on a stray hair sticking out from Seungcheol’s hairdo. He fixes it fondly, tucking it back, sighing wistfully as he continues, “I wish I could hit on Wonwoo.”
Chan deadpans. “Your boyfriend is right next to you.”
“Yeah and he’d support the feat. Imagine what we could do with all that CEO money,” he says, the tone of his voice retaining that dreamlike quality all the while. He stabs his fork into a piece of cake violently, and holds it up to Seungcheol’s mouth. “Unfortunately, Wonwoo knows we’re together, so. There goes that dream.”
Seungkwan and Chan make eye contact, before he decides to voice out their concern at Seungcheol. “You’d let him hit on Wonwoo?”
“Let him?” he parrots, genuinely puzzled, before answering, like it’s obvious, “I’d help him do his hair and makeup for their first date.”
Seungcheol leans forward, taking a bite of the cake offered to him, pressing a closed-mouthed kiss to Jeonghan’s clothed shoulder in gratitude. He shrugs at the shocked looks he receives, speaking innocently with his mouth full, “We’re eyeing a new apartment.”
“God,” Seungkwan exclaims, disgusted. “I wish we had a working HR department. You two are the worst.”
“All Joohyun-noona does is terrorize Mingyu and penalize people for swearing,” Junhui says, just as forlorn. “Which, honestly, I guess I’m grateful for,” he confesses, after a beat of silence. “The terrorizing Mingyu part, of course.”
“While we’re on the topic of Mingyu—” Sooyoung says, deep in thought, taking the matter seriously. “He’d be in on this, right?”
Seungkwan nods. “I don’t think he’d want to miss it,” he says, certain. “Knowing him, he definitely thinks he’s the one Wonwoo likes, even if he’s not on our floor.”
Chan balks. “Mingyu isn’t on our floor either?” he asks, flabbergasted. “Why the hell does everyone come to third?”
“Well, HR is pretty mobile,” Seungcheol adds, now with a fork in his own hand, as he pokes at Jeonghan’s cake. “They’re kind of everywhere.”
“So— Mingyu, Sooyoung, Seungkwan,” Jeonghan names, forcing Chan to still, before concluding, “That’s it, right?”
Chan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding once he realizes he’s been successfully left out, but chooses not to comment further lest Jeonghan remembers his adamant refusal and additionally puts him in just to spite him.
“Yeah,” Sooyoung says. “I can go first,” she volunteers, raising her arm, thinking up the schedule as she goes. “Mingyu can go second, since he’s free around lunch, and Seungkwan should go last, ‘cause he’s swamped with meetings for the day.”
Her plan is met with agreement, and that’s all there is to it. Chan stays quiet for the rest of their lunch break, in an attempt to steel his nerves for whatever is waiting for him tomorrow. He’s not sure why, but there’s already some anxiety brewing in his gut.
He’s never been one to flaunt his intuition, but some signs are hard to miss. There’s nothing he can do about it right now though, so all that’s left to do, really, is wait it out and hope it’s nothing life altering.
SOOYOUNG
When Chan appears at the front of the company building the next morning, he’s surprised to find Sooyoung and Seungkwan already at the front of it. They’re wearing an almost matching pair of sunglasses, as they sip on their takeaway coffee, huddled up like they’re plotting to kill Jeon Wonwoo instead of seducing him.
He walks up to them, lowering his own pair of shades just enough for his eyes to peek above the lenses, looking them up and down, unamused. “You two are dead serious about this, huh?”
“Yes,” come the matching replies.
“Is looking like you’re about to jump him, part of the plan?” Chan asks, as he takes Seungkwan’s drink out of his hand to take a sip. The coffee is awfully bitter, as expected, and exactly what Chan needs to get through whatever he’s about to witness.
He takes this opportunity to get a better look at Sooyoung, his eyebrows shooting up as he realizes just how serious she is about it.
Her hair is curled prettily, locks falling graciously over her shoulders in waves that almost glisten under the direct sunlight; her makeup carefully applied, the colors doing everything to accentuate the natural shadows of her face beautifully.
She’s wearing a pink gloss that glitters every time she smiles, and as Chan’s eyes fall to her green, bedazzled dress, two things come to mind.
One, it’s the dress she wore for her twenty-fifth birthday party during which she broke up with her ugly, cheating boyfriend.
Two, it definitely breaks workplace dress code. He decides to keep quiet on this, though, since he’d rather not get hit this early in the morning.
“Well,” Seungkwan says, as he thinks about it. “That is kind of what she’s going for. Jumping him, I mean.”
Chan looks in Sooyoung’s direction. “Elaborate?”
“In five minutes,” Sooyoung starts, dramatic, “Jeon Wonwoo will make his way to the company building.” She strikes up a pose, looking proud, and Chan immediately realizes he needs to find new friends, “That is when a beautiful, unassuming woman— aka, me— will accidentally run into him and spill her coffee all over her dress.”
Chan doesn’t want to question why she knows when Wonwoo enters the building, because he’s sure the answer won’t explain anything. Instead, he asks, “How do you know it won’t get on him instead?”
Sooyoung smirks, her lips curling prettily. “I practiced,” she says, and Chan can’t help but find himself engrossed in what else she has planned out. She’s always been a very captivating storyteller.
Disappointingly enough, she goes back to her normal posture, and concludes, “And then, well,” she starts, feeling urged by Chan’s curiosity, “He’ll fall in love with me. I guess.”
Well, there’s that. All that’s left to do is wait this out and see how the K-Drama scene Sooyoung is about to act out goes. Ironically enough, besides this ridiculous set up, Chan would say the chances of her being the person Wonwoo has his eye on are genuinely quite high.
She’s beautiful, funny, terrifyingly smart and outwardly caring towards everybody, with a work ethic that would scare anyone. She’s practically working across four departments, which also gives her a higher chance of bumping into Wonwoo more often than not.
Even from a purely workplace perspective, she’s perfect. Sooyoung outperforms all the other employees on her level by a margin, delivering consistent results that always meet the monthly quota.
It’s as Chan ruminates on how great his friend is, that Wonwoo approaches, and Sooyoung immediately sets her plan into motion. It takes one glance at him for her to get moving, swaying her hips as she walks in his direction, pretending to tap away on her phone, coffee in hand.
She’s the picture of low spatial awareness, especially as the moment happens, and Sooyoung rams into Wonwoo and— astoundingly— doesn’t get a drop of coffee on his thousand dollar suit, instead drenching herself in the liquid with a shocked gasp.
Chan mourns her dress and the horrors it’s been through for a second, before refocusing his attention on their conversation. He was initially scared that Wonwoo’s bodyguards would body slam her to the ground the second she touched him, but luckily enough, she’s currently flocked by the five of them— Wonwoo included— all checking on her worriedly.
“Ah— I’m so sorry, sir!” she says, lips pursed. “I’m so clumsy!”
“Please, it’s my mistake,” Wonwoo says, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen you walking towards me. I’m the one who should apologize,” he corrects, taking one last look at Sooyoung’s ruined dress, before raising his gaze towards her face.
He then, shockingly, takes her hands in his own, and smiles. That’s when Seungkwan, in turn, grabs Chan’s palm, shocked, and Chan can’t blame him, because if anything, he’s mirroring his exact disbelief.
They’re not breathing as they wait for Wonwoo to speak, every second feeling like an hour. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, through a smile, and Chan is sure it’s over, that it’s Sooyoung, until Wonwoo speaks again and— “There’s still time to go and change. And if you’re late, I’ll tell Jeonghan not to deduct it from your pay.”
“Oh,” Chan deadpans, as Seungkwan’s hand drops down from where they were dramatically intertwined. “How romantic.”
Wonwoo leaves, and in turn leaves a stunned Sooyoung behind, giving her nothing to do but trek back to where Seungkwan and Chan are standing, the atmosphere as awkward as it could be. It’s quiet, until she speaks.
Sooyoung scrunches her nose, and looks down at her soiled dress. “So, I don’t think it’s me.”
“Yeah,” Chan says, staring blankly. “I don’t think it’s you, either.”
It’s as they ruminate on this failed encounter in silence, Chan in particular, wondering how and why he let himself get persuaded that Sooyoung really was about to end their game at the first encounter and prove herself Wonwoo’s beloved, that Joohyun struts by.
“Good morning! Why are you—” she greets happily, about to ask Chan why they look so forlorn, before she changes targets, expression shifting. “Sooyoung. Your dress is not up to code.”
“— And covered in coffee,” Sooyoung adds, blinking, still shaken up by her disappointment. “Is that something you’re just, like, ignoring?”
“It’s kind of hard to miss,” Chan mumbles out.
“Oh,” Joohyun exclaims, like she just noticed. “There is coffee on your dress.”
Chan is miraculously proven wrong, so he corrects himself. “I guess it isn’t.”
SOOYOUNG’S ENCOUNTER : FAIL
MINGYU
It’s a long while before Mingyu’s turn. First, Chan called a grumpy Sooyoung a cab to drive her home and back, so she doesn’t have to bother driving through Seoul’s morning rush herself. Then, two rounds of grueling morning meetings, and a brief he facilitated with Junhui concerning the dreadful Busan 2027 project that Wonwoo himself appeared to listen in on.
When he comes back to his cubicle, he feels like he’s lived through five lives, and it’s not even 12PM. The second he plops down into his chair, he leans back into it with a sigh, curling his spine outwards in an attempt to lessen the pressure building in his lower back.
There’s a satisfying pop when he twists a certain way, and with a content sigh he settles. Chan tips his head back, closing his eyes to fully enjoy this much needed moment of reprieve. Seungkwan and Sooyoung are at a meeting of their own, so he finally gets relatively quiet surroundings, which he plans to make use of by taking a quick nap.
If anyone snitches on him, he’ll cite a need for beauty sleep. If there’s anything a personality hire desperately needs, it’s that.
“No sleeping on the clock,” a voice cuts through the darkness in a whisper, dangerously close, warm air hitting his ear in puffs. Chan’s eyes flutter open in shock, his heart skipping a beat as he tries to regain his bearings enough to process what had just happened to him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks, once he identifies the owner of the voice as a beaming, excited Mingyu. He smacks him on the leg once, in reprimand, annoyed by his happiness. “You scared me!” Mingyu ow’s, and it makes Chan happy enough.
“You can’t sleep!” Mingyu whines out, putting his hands on Chan’s shoulders and shaking him. “It’s my turn!”
“Oh God,” Chan groans out, once his eyes flicker to the platform in front of the stairwell and confirms that yes, Jeon Wonwoo is standing there again, unmoving as a boulder.
And, truly, he has to give it to his friends, the more he notices how omnipresent the man is, the stranger it gets. Chan just hopes they don’t get fired for harassment and blacklisted from working corporate, when they wrap this up. Honestly speaking, he wouldn’t mind, but he’s not sure how the rest would take it.
“Come on, Chan,” Mingyu says, urging, as he seemingly pumps himself up, “Give me some parting words. Something motivational.”
Chan blinks, his attention flickering back to his friend. “Um,” he mumbles out, but still tries to make an effort, so he clumsily adds, “Go get him, I guess?”
He’s not sure Mingyu even hears him as he doesn’t spare him another word, probably finding a moment of complete courage and singleminded focus that he had to make use of immediately lest he backs out and cries himself to sleep that night.
It’s as he walks away from Chan’s cubicle, that Joohyun approaches, water in hand, gaze trailing after Mingyu. “He’s— um—” Chan tries, in an attempt to vouch for him and not reveal the absolutely
“Jeonghan told me everything,” she says, turning to Chan with a sweet smile. “I’m here to watch him embarrass himself,” Joohyun adds, tone mellow, before she urges, “Come on. I can’t hear anything, let’s stand near the vending machine.”
Thankfully, once they inconspicuously situate themselves next to the vending machine— after Chan insists on buying them both the cat wafers Junhui previously mentioned— Wonwoo and Mingyu are close enough for them to make out what they’re saying.
It starts off pretty tame, all things considered. Mingyu asks about their next joint staff meeting with legal, and wonders if Wonwoo will be monitoring it with the administration entourage that’s set to appear.
“Unfortunately, no,” Wonwoo answers, pushing his glasses up, regretful. “I have a flight early that morning— I’m overseeing the new branch opening in Tokyo.”
Chan rolls his eyes, exasperated, and he can tell Joohyun shares the sentiment. Wonwoo attending a branch opening overseas is something Mingyu is completely aware of, considering he is the one who carefully selected the batch of employees Wonwoo is set to be traveling with.
His name is literally on all the emails that have anything to do with the allocation. Emails Wonwoo has probably already seen. Chan isn’t sure why this is the route he went with, but if he was as handsome and charming as Mingyu, he’d also probably feel confident enough walking into this, even when horribly unprepared.
“Ah, what a shame,” he answers, ducking his head. He’s so good at this, that Chan feels like throwing up. Mingyu gives Wonwoo a meaningful look once their eyes meet, “It’d be great if you could make it. I really, really appreciate your insight.”
It’s then, that Mingyu puts his hand on the wall next to him, leaning on it as he nods along to whatever Wonwoo is replying with. Chan’s jaw immediately drops at the sight, his cheeks flushing. He’s almost caging Wonwoo in against the wall, picking and choosing which boundaries to cross carefully.
It’s still— it’s still bold. Way too bold. Even bolder than Sooyoung, which he already ascertained as a level of bold that wasn’t achievable, nor something you could recreate by pure chance.
“Is he allowed to do that?” Chan asks, once he regains his bearings.
Joohyun, exasperated, answers. “No. He isn’t.”
“—So, you’ve been paying attention to me?” is what Chan heard Mingyu ask next. He’s grinning ear to ear, canines peeking out, obviously happy with the flow of their conversation. Chan’s eyebrows shoot up once more, at the almost cocky tone.
“You HR people are monsters.” Chan mumbles under his breath, stupefied.
Joohyun’s reply comes within a beat, the tone of her voice solemn. “I think that’s just Mingyu.”
“Yes.” Wonwoo replies to Mingyu, confirmation followed by a small nod. “I’ve become increasingly aware of your work. Especially after…"
Mingyu perks up at this, as Wonwoo’s words trail off into silence, like he stopped himself before he could say too much. “After?” Mingyu repeats, urging, that irresistible, boyish grin still tugging at his cheeks. Chan hears Joohyun groan next to him at the sight.
Wonwoo smiles. “After you mixed champagne, tequila and vodka in a shot at the last company dinner and tried to get me to drink it.”
The silence after Wonwoo finishes his sentence is almost deafening. Keyword almost, because the only sound that saves them from unsalvageable, awkward silence is Mingyu stuttering as he tries to explain himself. Chan can see him actively failing, as it becomes increasingly obvious that Mingyu has no recollection of this event.
“I— I had no idea that happened,” he says, tone flat from disbelief. “Did you know?” Chan asks, turning to Joohyun.
“I did,” she replies, after unwrapping and taking a bite of her wafer. She sighs happily as she chews. “That’s why I’m here.”
Mingyu bows once at Wonwoo as he seemingly excuses himself in a flurry, running to God knows where in an attempt to salvage what he has left of his dignity.
Once he’s out of sight, Chan’s gaze flickers back to Wonwoo on accident, his heart lurching once he realizes Wonwoo has been looking at him the entire time. Chan feels his nervous system starting to calm down as Wonwoo sends him a small, contained nod of acknowledgement, the mannerism somehow soothing in its nature.
He tries to reciprocate, but the movement is awkward and stuttery, for a reason Chan can’t name, which turns his cheeks a bright red, the warmth crawling beneath the neckline of his sweater. He swears he sees Wonwoo’s eyes zero in on the blush as it travels, which does nothing to quell his embarrassment, only darkening the color of it until—
“— Are you listening to me?” Joohyun asks, startling Chan out of his thoughts.
“Sorry?” he says, still a little out of it, before realizing she’s been speaking for a while and he’s heard exactly none of it. He regains his bearings, and bites his lip, apologetic. “Sorry. I didn’t catch any of that— What did you say?”
“I said,” she repeats, suspicious, “I hope your turn isn’t as embarrassing.”
“Oh, no,” he says, chuckling as he shakes his head. “I’m not having a turn.”
Joohyun is suspiciously quiet, as Chan’s chuckles fade into silence. He can’t quite place it, but she almost looks analytical as she stares at his face, like she’s trying to figure something out just by looking at him.
Her eyes flicker to where Wonwoo was standing just seconds ago, and then back to Chan, before she pats his shoulder and says, like it’s her final verdict, “Let’s go have a smoke.”
MINGYU’S ENCOUNTER : FAIL
Chan takes out his flimsy pack of cigarettes, gaze landing on the bold, black lettering written in office marker; Only for Emergencies!!, a product of Seungkwan’s neat handwriting. He was comedically furious when he caught Chan smoking the first time, so they struck up a deal : When Chan feels emotionally off kilter, he gets to have a single cigarette.
Today is the first time he breaks his promise. Chan just really, really needs a smoke. Anyone would, after making awkward, tense eye contact with their boss they swore up and down they didn’t like.
Joohyun already has a lit cigarette in her mouth, the murky smoke from it turning a strip of the blue, clear sky around them hazy. Chan joins her in leaning against the railing circling their company terrace, metal slightly warm from the scarcely shining spring sun.
He puts the cigarette in his mouth, and nudges Joohyun’s shoulder to light it for him, a flame appearing at the tip of it in less than a few seconds. He takes a drag once it’s lit, utters a wordless apology to Seungkwan in his head, and closes his eyes with a content sigh once he feels the nicotine enter his system.
He can feel her eyes on him again, but he decides not to speak up. Joohyun just— does that, sometimes. Watches. Chan always guessed being observant was part of the job, and that she does it well enough that she doesn’t need to hide her gaze behind any false pretenses.
“I don’t get the point of all this,” she says suddenly, breaking the silence and prompting Chan to flutter his eyes open, eyelashes tangling. “When it’s clear who Wonwoo likes.”
He sniffs a bit, before flicking off some ash from his cigarette into the company ashtray Joohyun is holding. “Yeah?” he asks, offhandedly, licking his lips before bringing it back to his lips.
Chan didn’t really process the information at first, too engrossed in his cigarette, but once his mind catches up, he jumps, turning to her abruptly, “Wait— It is?”
Joohuyun rolls her eyes, but it’s nothing but fond. “Maybe Seungkwan is right not to let you smoke. You’re too into it.”
Chan narrows his eyes, failing to convey sharpness. If anything, he feels like his gaze has turned softer, as he grumbles. “Don’t encourage him. He’s already difficult enough.”
“I think it’s you.”
Chan pauses at that, straightening up as he turns to her. He blinks in an attempt to revert his expression to its previous form, the false glare losing the little edge it had as his brain, once again, struggles to process information. “Me?”
She shrugs, the movement somehow elegant. “Yeah,” she says, taking a drag of her cigarette, the smoke flowing out of her nose as she elaborates. “After you passed your interview and you were hired, he came to HR the next day and asked me what floor you were delegated to. Have I not told you this?”
The question was prompted by the dramatic drop of Chan’s jaw, and has only one answer. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “No, I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.”
That sounds suspicious. Really, really suspicious. Chan has his doubts, though, if it’s really romantic feelings that are at play here.
Don’t get him wrong. It is, by all means, odd, for the elusive Jeon Wonwoo to inquire about him so intimately, but it also isn’t. Chan was the only freshly graduated student applying for a paid position. Not for an internship, but for a long-term contract that demanded two years of experience that Chan very outwardly did not have.
So it’s only logical, with his luck, that Chan ends up in an interview batch where the CEO decides to bless the committee and the job candidates with his presence. And it’s just as, if not more, on brand, that Chan had absolutely no idea who Jeon Wonwoo was or what his position in the company is.
Apparently, it missed him that the man named Jeon Wonwoo could have anything to do with a company named Jeon Corporation. Anyone would make that mistake.
He blames the lack of plaques. Why would you assemble an interview committee and not lay out plaques? That just seems counterproductive.
Actually, the first thing Chan mentioned in a staff meeting was the introduction of mandatory plaques. They settled for small, nameplate pins after a grueling, two hour long debate with Seungcheol on why Chan proposed this at a random finance debrief instead of a team meeting. He considers that one of his first Jeon Corp. company wins.
Plaqueless and oblivious, all Chan could do for the actual interview process was pull out all his stops and pray for the best. To reiterate, when Seungkwan says his charm got him this job, he’s definitely not in the wrong.
Thankfully, Chan was applying for a creative position that demands a serious communication skillset, which he felt were both things he could convey beautifully throughout the interview.
All he had to do was, well, be himself.
How he lied about many things on his CV, could be considered creative, and his cited people skills were not lacking as he managed to somehow charm the committee into abandoning their criteria and hiring him on the spot.
So, he turns back to Joohyun, after reflecting on this miracle. “Maybe he just wanted to check on the company liability,” he mumbles out, and tilts his head in question. “Make sure I’m doing my job right?”
Based on her flat expression and deadpan gaze, Chan draws a conclusion. “I’m guessing that’s a no from you,” he says, and coughs on a clumsy exhale of smoke, unbefitting of a smoker of his calibre. “Shit. You seriously think so?”
“Don’t play dumb, Chan,” she says, letting her cigarette stick out limply from her mouth. “You know how to detect that stuff better than I ever could.” Chan quirks a brow in wordless inquiry, promoting an exasperated eyeroll from Joohyun.
“What I’m saying is—” she starts, nudging his shoulder with her own in reprimand, “Don’t be so dismissive of this. Play around a little, it won’t hurt.”
Chan’s eyes narrow, for real this time, as he mulls over her words in his mouth. “It’s a bit ironic for the head of the HR department to encourage clear HR violations,” he mumbles out, teasing. “Let alone tell an employee to ‘play around a little’ with their boss.”
Joohyun bursts into a fit of chuckles, the sound light and airy, lessening some of the tension in Chan’s shoulders. “Jeonghan and Seungcheol have made me turn a blind eye for the past seven years,” she says, putting out her cigarette and sending a cheeky wink his way, “At this point, I practically walk around with my eyes closed.”
SEUNGKWAN
Chan doesn’t have time to think much about Joohyun’s words, because the second he’s done with his cigarette and back in the building, he’s summoned to the third floor to spectate Seungkwan’s turn.
“I’m just going to be me,” he began explaining, after Chan explicitly informed him that he doesn’t want to know his plan and that he’d rather experience it as a surprise. “If he likes me, it’s definitely because of my untamed nature, my honesty,” he said, and concluded, rather dramatically, “Because I’m true to myself! People like that about me.”
“They do?” Chan asked through a grimace, eyebrows slanted, as the elevator door opened and they entered it.
“Yes. Don’t be rude,” he spat out, pressing the third floor button with more force than necessary. He straightened out then, schooling his expression back into the unabashed confidence he bolstered his argument with just seconds ago. “My point is— There is no plan. I’ll just call him over and talk how I’d talk to anyone else.”
It’s ridiculous, really, and has been ridiculous for the past five hours that he’s had to watch his friends embarrass themselves and risk their careers for a bit, but this really takes the cake.
He’s at his seat, phone in hand, relaying every movement Seungkwan makes to Mingyu through text, as he expressed grave sadness at not being able to witness Seungkwan’s failure himself because of a meeting Joohyun dragged him to that he should definitely be paying attention to the contents of.
So, this somehow became Chan’s problem too, as he’s forced to give an accurate description of how Seungkwan is dressed and if he’s wearing the pants that make his butt look good, or the pants that cuff weirdly around his ankles and make him look shorter, because Mingyu didn’t get to have a good look at him before.
kim mingyu hr
chan
focus
Chan takes a deep breath, before replying.
(You)
it’s hard when you’re asking me stupid questiknz
questions*
His fingers are pressing the wrong letters on the keyboard from lingering annoyment, so he doesn’t notice, as he corrects himself, that Seungkwan has already spotted Wonwoo, and is about to make his move. His phone vibrates one more time in his hand, just as he catches wind of this development.
kim mingyu hr
the pants chan
“Hey,” Seungkwan calls out, tone determined. “Wish me luck,” He fusses over his hair for a second in the reflection of his black computer screen, and stands up from his chair to call out to Wonwoo. The second he bends over a little over the cubicle wall, Chan’s eyes fly to his ass, so he furiously types up his answer.
(You)
butt pants
kim mingyu hr
shit.
Seungkwan formally calls their looming boss over, a picture perfect display of an obedient worker, his lips in a honeyed smile as Wonwoo heeds his beckon and walks over.
Chan, unfortunately, begins noticing some things he hasn’t paid attention to before. How Wonwoo walks, poised and elegant, but stumbles almost imperceptibly once he passes by Chan’s table. How his eyes linger on Chan after he only nods at him in greeting, the glare of his glasses catching the fluorescent lighting as he finally turns towards Seungkwan.
“Yes?” he asks, simply. His tone is gruff from misuse, so he clears it as he waits for Seungkwan’s answer. He seems almost fidgety now, under Chan’s investigative gaze, a notion that had flown past his head before.
As Seungkwan speaks, Chan takes this chance to open his chat with Mingyu back up.
kim mingyu hr
hello
why are you leaving me on read
“Ah— It’s just,” Seungkwan continues, woeful, eyes sparkling, “I feel like I have so much free time! I don’t know what to do with it!”
Wonwoo, shockingly, looks fond in a way Chan hasn’t seen before, seemingly endeared by Seungkwan’s antics. It’s— it feels wrong, in Chan’s chest. The taste of it should be sweet, but it settles down almost bitterly on his tongue, as he observes Wonwoo’s gaze.
kim mingyu hr
chan
Once he catches wind of the trajectory of his own feelings, he almost jumps out of his own skin, ignoring the constant vibrating of his phone.
What the hell is he thinking? He didn’t care about Wonwoo just minutes before! Curse Joohyun for putting these thoughts in his head. Life was so much easier before, when he was oblivious and perpetually exasperated.
kim mingyu hr
does wonwoo like seungkwan
i’ll kill myself i’m serious
Wonwoo listens intently, nodding as Seungkwan complains, speaking up once he finishes. “I have an idea,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he watches the pout on Seungkwan’s face. “Since you have so much free time—”
Chan can see it on Seungkwan’s face, his innocent expression slowly but surely shifting into a victorious, smug grin as Wonwoo starts his sentence. Chan almost falls into it too, and thinks Joohyun was wrong, that she introduced him to these feelings that he already has to let go of, because Wonwoo doesn’t like him, he likes Seungkwan and Chan will have to—
“—I’ll put you on the Daegu infrastructure project. A spot just opened up, and I think you’d be perfect for it,” he says, smiling, pushing his glasses up gingerly, since they’ve slid down his nosebridge.
Seungkwan and Chan end up mirroring each other's stunned expression, except Seungkwan’s has an edge of horrified disappointment that Chan’s lacks.
Seungkwan replies finally, having finally pieced back together the recently ripped up center in his brain that controls speech. “That is—!” he starts, his faux excitement unwaning as he continues, “That is exactly what I was hoping you would tell me to do with my free time! Right, Chan?”
Chan jumps, having been called upon for help, forgetting he’s not only a formless spectator but also a human being with a voice, “Oh! Yes!” he exclaims, putting his phone down so he could focus, “Seungkwan was just— He was just talking about the um, Incheon—”
“Daegu.” Seungkwan corrects quickly, beaming.
“—Daegu!” Chan parrots, smile unfaltering, “Project. That he wanted to be on.” Wonwoo nods, pleased by this revelation, if the manner in which he’s beaming proudly is any indication.
“Well, that’s sorted then,” he says, as he concludes the conversation. “I’ll tell Seulgi to send you all the details, since she’s the project’s facilitator.”
Seungkwan and Chan say their formal goodbyes after nodding in understanding, as Wonwoo bows in return, marking the end of their conversation. However, he stops in his tracks, like he forgot to say something, and turns to Seungkwan.
“Oh, and,” he says, his mouth twisting into something akin to a smirk, “I heard Hansol from IT is supporting all the conferences for that project. Do with that information as you will.”
Thankfully, he leaves the second those words leave his mouth, and doesn’t get to witness Seungkwan slump over in his seat and hit his forehead on his desk miserably. Chan doesn’t even know what to say, or how to console him, so he just places a hand over his shoulder and rubs it placatingly.
“At least you’ll get a bonus,” he tries, after a period of silence.
“Chan,” Seungkwan starts, the sound muffled by the wood he’s speaking into. “No bonus can right the wrong that is my boss knowing details about my sex life.”
“If he was jealous, like in those K-Dramas, it’d be like, cool,” he says, finally raising his head, tone bleak. “But no. He just knows.”
Chan’s hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder stills as he grimaces. “You need to hang out with Sooyoung less.”
He doesn’t get to hear Seungkwan’s retort, because a violent vibration on his desk reminds him he’s left Mingyu uninformed about the results of Seungkwan’s campaign. He grabs his phone hastily, and ignores the twenty unanswered messages, typing up a reply swiftly.
kim mingyu hr
YOU BETTER BE IGNORING ME CAUSE YOU’RE ON SUICIDE WATCH
Chan sneaks a glance at Seungkwan, noting that his face is back on the desk, and types up a reply.
(You)
something like that
kim mingyu hr
did he do better or worse than me
tell me right now
Chan, well. Chan doesn’t know the answer to this, so he resorts to an unbiased retelling of the facts. He’ll let Seungkwan explain the details later.
(You)
he got put on the daegu infrastructure project
kim mingyu hr
so
worse?
If it was up to Chan to make the call, Mingyu definitely had it worse. But, Seungkwan had higher expectations, and probably genuinely believed he was the one Wonwoo was into— even if he’d never admit it— so, in that sense, it’s the other way around.
“Do you think our floor’s bathroom has everything I need to make mustard gas?” Seungkwan asks suddenly, voice muffled, confirming Chan’s verdict.
After answering Seungkwan with a swift, “No, and don’t try to find out,” he types up his text reply fairly quickly.
(You)
much worse
SEUNGKWAN’S ENCOUNTER : FAIL
It’s almost symptomatic, how a day this bad ends up even worse. After being put through absolute emotional hell, Chan was intercepted by a frenzied Junhui— who is rarely ever in a frenzy— babbling about missed deadlines and altered documents.
Turns out, one of their interns labeled the wrong date for when the project Junhui gave him today is supposed to be handed over to administration, apparently mistakenly pressing the wrong button an astounding seven times across different documents.
It’s not due in five days, like previously established by practically everybody, it’s due tomorrow. Chan knows who he will be drawing get tortured next in his notebook now. He already asked Mingyu to find him their picture.
It’s, of course, on Chan to right this wrong, as everyone else is swamped by other projects that have a higher urgency level. He started around the time he was supposed to head home, which was a modest 5PM, thinking he could be done with tying loose ends quickly.
It’s 8PM now, and Chan has barely made any progress.
His friends have all left a while ago, all citing impossible to cancel plans, which does little to quell Chan’s sadness, and even less to reduce his workload. He thought he could push through, though, as he always does, but is losing the optimism with every miserable hour that passes.
He leans back from his computer screen with a groan, fingers cramping from over-exertion. Chan has been typing away furiously and praying spell check does its job later on, since there is no way in hell he hasn’t made at least a dozen grammatical mistakes.
He closes his eyes, and does some breathing exercises his mom taught him for stress relief. As he does so, he hears footsteps approaching, his eyes fluttering open from surprise. He straightens up in his chair instantly, fully alert, once his previously bored gaze flickers to the person in question.
A tired looking Wonwoo trails past Chan’s desk wordlessly, sitting down on Sooyoung’s chair, in the cubicle right next to his. Chan follows the movement with his eyes, gaze falling to where Wonwoo’s hand is loosening his tie elegantly, swallowing so hard at the sight that it hurts his larynx.
Wonwoo’s eyes are bloodshot behind his glasses, the almost hollow bags under his eyes sick and grey. His usually impeccable hairdo is messy now, probably from how often Wonwoo was frustratedly running his hand through it. The blazer of his suit is gone, leaving him in just his dress shirt, pants and undone tie, the sight uncanny and—
Chan grips his chair with his palm. It’s hot. He— Wonwoo is hot.
All this time, Chan has had trouble finding what it is people find in CEO of Jeon Corporation, Jeon Wonwoo, the amalgamation of a family’s success wrapped up in pristine, expensive suits and fancy vocabulary.
With his disposition, it’s only natural that he’d like the exact opposite. He finds that this— this miserable looking, tired, seemingly frustrated Wonwoo is much, much more up his alley.
“Is there anything bad about me in there?” Wonwoo asks, suddenly.
Chan startles out of his thoughts, and tilts his head, confused. He follows Wonwoo’s gaze, eyes widening once he realizes he’s glaring at his notebook. The same one that Chan empties all the expletives he can think of into, the same one Wonwoo read a page from just hours ago.
“No!” he says, with a sense of urgency that’s probably way too heightened. “There’s really nothing,” he adds, uselessly, “About you, I mean.” Chan cringes inwardly at his incoherence, but tries to keep a tame face.
Wonwoo hums in reply, seeming strangely dissatisfied by this answer. Chan blinks a few times, before asking, “Is everything okay?”
“It’s just,” Wonwoo says, narrowed gaze flickering to meet Chan’s rounded out one. “I would’ve preferred something bad, to, well. Nothing.”
Chan tilts his head, stumped. Why would anyone want to be in his hate book? Maybe Wonwoo doesn’t understand the true depth of it. But, even then, wouldn’t it be entirely counter productive if his name was in it?
“Why?” Chan asks, blinking.
Wonwoo leans forward at the question, like he’s been punched in the stomach, half groaning, half laughing, his palms reaching beneath his glasses to cup his eyes, miserable. Chan is flabbergasted by this reaction, his mouth in an o, as he also notices, this close, how wide Wonwoo’s shoulders are.
He raises his head, eyes glassy from embarrassment, “Isn’t it obvious?”
Chan sits there, befuddled for a mere moment, until a lightbulb slowly blinks itself to life on top of his head. Wonwoo’s current disappointment, the glassy eyes, his constant looming— not over the third floor, but over Chan’s cubicle— Joohyun’s words mixed with Isn’t it obvious? all leading to one single conclusion.
Wonwoo really does like him.
And Chan, judging by the rampant beating of his heart at the realization, might like him back. There’s really only one thing to do to confirm, and Chan can only pray his friends forgive him for finishing the game they started for them.
CHAN
Chan smiles in a way he knows looks pretty, and says, presumptuously, “I think you’ll have to say it, hyung.” He can practically hear Seungkwan and Sooyoung screaming in his head as he drops honorifics, at his own risk.
“I—” Wonwoo says, blindsided but still leaning forward, shocked by Chan’s sudden surge of confidence. “I don’t think hyung is legally allowed to.”
Chan blinks coquettishly. “Thankfully, legal left at 5PM, along with everybody else,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “Any other excuses?” It’s here, that Wonwoo starts looking seriously conflicted.
He gets up from his chair and stands with his hands on his hips, turned away, before he looks back to ascertain a completely calm Chan. He looks like he’s restraining himself from doing something he shouldn’t, as he walks over to Chan’s desk, turning around and leaning on it.
He unbuttons his sleeves with a sigh and rolls them up, forearms flexing as he crosses them and finally stills, looking back over at Chan, gaze unreadable. Chan grits his teeth in turn, the newfound want making his gums feel itchy, but ultimately tries not to let it show, lest he freaks Wonwoo out even more.
They watch each other for what feels like forever, until Wonwoo speaks, voice quiet like he found something in Chan’s gaze. “You’re crazy.” he whispers out.
“Maybe.” Chan shoots back, lips curling. “Scared?”
“No.” he replies, certain. “The opposite.”
Chan hums, satisfied, but says nothing else. Wonwoo looks like he wants to say something else, but is trying to find the right way to ask, so Chan waits for whatever it is patiently. He’s quite content with just watching him like this, honestly.
“Your friends,” he starts, and Chan can feel his muscles stiffen, “Were they… hitting on me?” Oh. He didn’t expect that. He feels his mood sour a little, as he remembers how he felt when he thought Wonwoo had a thing for Seungkwan.
“Maybe,” Chan says once more, not wanting to confess to anything. “They think you like someone from our floor,” he elaborates, tilting his head as he teases, “Were they not to your taste?”
Wonwoo shrugs, handsome face perfectly still. “They’re not you.”
When Chan smiles, it’s sharp around the edges. The tension between them is hurdling towards its peak, but Chan doesn’t want it to, not yet. He likes this little bubble he’s spent this entire day unknowingly creating; the notebook, the lingering looks, the feelings starting to brew in his chest whenever Wonwoo was near, all leading to this moment. Likes the heat within this space, how he doesn’t allow it to reduce to a simmer, nor reach its boiling point.
Chan stands up, and decides to toy with the temperature. Theres barely one step between them as he confidently walks over to Wonwoo, blinking up at him languidly.
“Wonwoo,” he calls out, voice quiet and sultry, as he gets as close as possible. Wonwoo’s chest raises and falls, like he’s struggling to breathe, the sight nothing short of enticing.
The beat of silence that follows is so intense you could hear a pin drop, before Chan asks, “Why do you come to our floor?”
Wonwoo gulps, eyes flickering across Chan’s features, like entranced. “I like to watch you work.”
“Yeah?” Chan mumbles out, only inches away from Wonwoo, voice sultry as he gazes at his lips intentionally, “Why’s that?”
“You’re—” Wonwoo tries, transfixed on the pink of Chan’s tongue peeking out from time to time, “Shit. You’re really pretty.”
Chan isn’t sure if Wonwoo meant this as an answer, or just as an astute observation, but he decides that he doesn’t really care and smiles in reply. “Cute.”
He steps away quickly then, an entranced Wonwoo chasing his lips like he hasn’t fully realized Chan is long gone, and starts packing his things. Once he’s done, he says, simply, “Let’s go.”
It seems like it’s only then that Wonwoo realizes Chan isn’t in front of him anymore, as he sputters before replying, “What? Go where?”
“Somewhere where you can kiss me without worrying about getting yourself involved in a workplace scandal.”
Chan starts moving towards the elevator without looking back, trusting Wonwoo to follow him like the polite, little puppy Chan has imagined him to be in his head. Partially, because he thinks that’s what he acts like, and partially because he hopes that’s what he acts like.
Obedient men are hot. Sue him.
However, a thought starts brewing in Chan’s mind as he detached from Wonwoo and regained cognitive abilities. Did— Did he get hired only because Wonwoo thought he’s cute? Chan does admit he wasn’t the most stellar applicant, but he’d find it mildly offensive if he got hired on looks alone. Not to mention just plain wrong towards the rest who got rejected because of him.
Once they reach the elevator door, Chan turns around, eyes narrowed as they fall on Wonwoo, intent on finding out the truth and not being swayed by his handsome face. He tries not to get too giddy about the fact that Wonwoo really did follow him, wordlessly at that.
“Hyung,” he calls out, pouting. “Why did you hire me?”
Wonwoo blinks. “I didn’t really have a say,” he says, shrugging, as he presses the elevator button. “I voted against hiring you, but that committee was, well,” he attempts to explain, before sighing in defeat, “You know them. They don’t really care what I have to say.” Chan is blindsided as the elevator door opens and Wonwoo ushers him inside, large palm on his lower back.
Well. That answer feels just as wrong too. Maybe even worse.
Chan purses his lips as he settles next to Wonwoo, leaning against the elevator wall, glaring at the side of his face childishly. “You voted no?”
Wonwoo turns his head to look at him, and quirks a brow. “You fit none of the criteria.”
“Ok.”
“You didn’t even have a degree in the field—”
“Wonwoo,” Chan calls out, staring blankly. “If you don’t stop talking I’m selling our company information to the press.”
"Go ahead," Wonwoo’s answering smile is almost sickeningly sweet, as he takes a finger and neatly brushes Chan’s fringe out of his face, endeared by the threat. "I'll buy back the information and their publishing house." He leans back, and Chan finds himself flustered by the interaction.
“I don’t regret it though,” Wonwoo adds, then, ignoring Chan’s disgruntlement as he crosses his hands. Chan feels even more annoyed now, as he realizes how much he misses his hand near his face. “Hiring you, I mean.”
“Your work ethic is enviable, your results even more so,” Wonwoo continues, looking up at the ceiling of the elevator, as he recalls some other details, a small smile playing on his face.
“That one time, when you facilitated your first meeting,” he starts, untwining his arms so he can place his hands against the elevator railing they’re leaning onto, “You spoke to our vendors with so much confidence you swayed even the most stubborn ones into continuing their investments. It was like magic.”
If Chan wasn’t blushing before, he’s blushing now. He had no idea Wonwoo remembered that meeting. It was— it was ages ago! It’s making Chan wonder just how long Wonwoo has been into him, the thought of his crush spanning longer than a few months enough to make him dizzy.
“And— and when we had that company dinner after a grueling day of meetings,” he starts again excitedly, smiling as he turns his head to Chan, “And you made everybody laugh the entire night, even though you were bone tired. Your energy, it’s— It’s magnetic.”
“Hyung,” Chan calls out, calmly. He never thought the depth of Wonwoo’s attraction went this deeply, and he feels an almost aching need to reciprocate. “Are there cameras in this elevator?”
“No. Why?”
That’s all Chan needs to hear, as he presses the large, red stop button on the elevator and surges forward, pressing a kiss to Wonwoo’s lips.
The first thing Chan expected is shy pliance. Wonwoo stiffening under his hold, and then relaxing into it, lips slowly, softly molding against Chan’s. What he got met with instead, is a startling amount of unabashed hunger that he was nowhere near ready for.
Fiery, a pair of arms wrapping around his middle almost immediately, like Wonwoo has been waiting for this ever since he dropped into Sooyoung’s chair an hour ago, maybe even longer than that. As they mouth at each other’s lips, desperate, Wonwoo flips them around so Chan is against the wall, caged.
It gets his blood pumping, how Wonwoo took charge over this moment, even though Chan was the one who initiated it. The way he kisses, fervently, is almost too much for Chan to keep up with, finally admitting defeat as he detaches from Wonwoo’s lips to catch a much needed breath.
Wonwoo is insatiable though, as he trails kisses down Chan’s neck, mouthing at the skin he can reach. All Chan can do is lean his head back and let him have his fill, feeling slightly ridiculous as he finds himself at Wonwoo’s mercy.
He whines, as Wonwoo bites onto a spot he’s already turned a bright shade of pink, lost in the sensation. A pair of icy cold hands slide beneath his shirt and sweater, forcing a hiss out of his mouth that Wonwoo immediately shushes, placating him by nosing into his cheek lovingly.
“Taste so sweet,” Wonwoo mumbles into his lips, licking at the seam before pressing another kiss as Chan whines, “So cute.”
“Ah—” Chan moans out helplessly, as he puts his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders, “Why are you so— Slow down! We have all the time in the world—”
The mention of time strikes a chord in Chan, his eyes widening as he remembers the project he abandoned in favor of— of making out with his boss! Like some sort of sex-crazed freak!
“Hyung,” he calls out, whining when Wonwoo’s hands tighten around his bare waist, “I need an extension— ah—!” Wonwoo only hums in question, pressing a kiss to Chan’s lips, enamored with the taste of his skin.
“An extension,” Chan mumbles out once more, mind turning hazy, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of how large Wonwoo is. “An exten—” he tries as he tangles his hands into Wonwoo’s hair to get his attention, stopping his sentence halfway, wholly exasperated as he realizes, “Ah, I already said that. Fuck,”
“What’s that?” Wonwoo asks, into the column of Chan’s neck, tone low, “Want hyung to fuck you?”
“Oh my God,” Chan exclaims, flabbergasted, the heat of his blush unbearable. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m—” Chan tries again, stomping his feet childishly, tearing up at the pain-pleasure shooting up his spine at every bite Wonwoo gives to his already bruised neck, “Can you stop for a second and listen to me?!”
“Sorry, baby,” he apologizes, as he presses wet kisses to his neck. “Hyung is listening.”
Chan feels stupid, now, a crazed Wonwoo nosing into his skin, swallowing before speaking, his throat exceptionally dry. “I need an extension for this— This project that’s due… soon.” He chooses the word soon because he’s not sure saying tomorrow will make him appear as an exemplary worker. Chan hasn’t missed a deadline in his life.
Wonwoo hums, pressing a kiss to Chan’s lips like he can’t help it, and then another, and another, before asking, against his mouth. “When is it due?”
“... Tomorrow.”
Wonwoo pauses, at that, and leans back a little. “Oh.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Chan starts, meek, “It’s not my fault. It’s an intern’s.”
He usually isn’t a snitch, and would gladly take the blame for someone, but for a reason he can name but doesn’t want to, Chan would really hate getting on Wonwoo’s bad side now that he knows just how good his good side is.
Why is liking Wonwoo turning him into a bad person already? Sooyoung was right. Being a CEO’s wife really is a burden.
Wonwoo sniffs, and tilts his head. “Are you going to draw them getting tortured in your notebook?”
Chan stills in Wonwoo’s hold. “You know I torture people in there?”
A shrug. “I made an educated guess,” he says, and brushes it off like Chan isn’t staring at the man of his dreams right now. “It’s the housing project, right?” Wonwoo asks, after thinking for a second. Chan nods, impressed he guessed so quickly. “I can’t give you an extension for it, but I can help you get it done— It wouldn’t be right to be late.”
Chan’s shoulders deflate. “The way you’ve been sucking my skin off the bone for the past fifteen minutes made me forget you're a person of integrity,” he mutters out, miserable, “You can ask to fuck an employee but you can’t give him another 24 hours?”
“Mm,” Wonwoo hums out, endeared by Chan’s snippiness. “I like to keep pleasure and business separate.”
Chan raises an eyebrow. “You do?”
“Never said I was good at it,” Wonwoo says, before adding, with an exhausted sigh, “Maybe I should try getting better. It would spare me a lot of headaches.”
Chan blinks. “But—” he starts, before uselessly adding something they’ve already established, “I’m pleasure and business.”
It sounds stupid, and although redundant, it’s factual. Chan will, for the foreseeable future, be Wonwoo’s employee, and he’s not sure he can just abandon what he started feeling tonight if Wonwoo does decide being with Chan is a hassle.
“Yeah,” Wonwoo reassures, sensing his discomfort, pressing a kiss to his nose. “And you’ve been that for a while. I’ve made my peace with the fact that you’re an exception long ago,” he says, twirling a piece of Chan’s hair between his fingers. “If it’s you, I don’t mind mixing the two.”
“Oh,” Chan stutters out, suddenly feeling stupid for overreacting. The feeling doesn’t linger, though, as his attention is grabbed by another revelation. Wonwoo has liked him for a while.
That’s— Ugh! It’s hot! Chan is almost annoyed by how well he’s responding to this situation, body and mind. The mere idea of Wonwoo pining after him for months, maybe even years, isn’t doing anything to quell the giddiness brewing in his stomach.
Well behaved, mannered, CEO Jeon Wonwoo, rendered to this singlemindedly obsessed, aching dog is so right up Chan’s alley that it’s almost ridiculous. To think he started this day, not caring about whether he lived or died. All because he’s been oblivious to what’s been in front of him all along!
“Well,” Chan says, realizing Wonwoo has been waiting for him to say something else with bated breath, “Calling me your exception does sound kind of romantic.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then it’s settled,” Chan says decisively, slapping both palms on Wonwoo’s chest. “We’re going to my house so I can make you do all my work for me,” he orders, straightening Wonwoo’s glasses and pressing a kiss to his lips, “I’ll make you something to eat, too, as you work.”
He thinks about it some more, grimacing once he realizes how late it is and how the dread is already settling in his stomach at the mere thought of cooking at this hour. “Or—” he offers, smiling innocently, “I’ll order takeout and you’ll have to pretend I’m the one who made the food.”
Wonwoo noses into his hair with a hum, and presses a kiss to the crown of it. “Only if you let me pay.”
“Jeon Wonwoo,” Chan calls out, “We have ourselves our first successful business deal.”
Wonwoo leaves a lingering kiss to his lips, moving away to press the button to the garage, leaning against the elevator door. He tips an imaginary glass, and cheers, “To many more.”
CHAN’S ENCOUNTER : SUCCESS ^___^