Archive of Our Own ^omega

Kim Seungmin didn’t mind mornings.

They were predictable, calm—his favorite part of the day. The sun was never too harsh, the air still cool from the night. He walked the same path every day, weaving through narrow streets lined with small convenience stores, shuttered cafés, and an occasional stray cat that never stuck around long enough to let him pet it. His polished black shoes tapped quietly against the pavement, steady and rhythmic, just like everything else about his life.

Life was… simple.

He liked it that way.

As an office worker, Seungmin was one of hundreds in his company. He didn’t stand out, and he had no desire to. His desk was tucked neatly in the middle of a shared office floor, surrounded by colleagues who were more acquaintances than friends. He only spoke when someone addressed him, his voice quiet but polite, his words always measured. Conversations rarely lingered beyond pleasantries, and that suited him just fine.

Seungmin glanced at his watch—a modest silver piece he’d had for years. The faint ticking was oddly comforting. It was 7:15 AM, right on schedule. His walk ended at the subway station, where the morning crowd was already swelling.

The usual noise filled the underground: hurried footsteps, announcements echoing overhead, the metallic screech of an arriving train. Seungmin stood among the masses, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but the press of bodies around him always made him retreat further into his mind.

It was better there, in the solitude of his thoughts.

He boarded the train, sliding into the corner of a car. It was crowded, as always—businesspeople, students, and couples packed in together, some scrolling through their phones, others chatting. A young couple across from him caught his eye, laughing quietly as the man handed the woman a small pink box tied with a ribbon.

Ah. That’s right. Today’s Valentine’s Day.

Seungmin looked away, his expression unreadable. His gaze settled on the floor, where the edge of his shoe brushed against another passenger’s. He muttered a quiet apology, though the other person didn’t seem to notice.

He wasn’t bitter about the holiday. Not exactly.

It was just… everywhere.

Pink and red decorations had popped up across the city over the past week, from bakeries advertising heart-shaped cakes to street vendors selling roses and balloons. On his way to the station, he’d seen couples exchanging gifts, some blushing, others beaming. Even now, the train was peppered with pastel-colored bouquets and oversized teddy bears, clutched tightly by smiling people.

They all look so happy, Seungmin thought, his lips curving into a faint smile. He didn’t begrudge anyone their joy. If anything, he was glad for them. Love, after all, was something to be celebrated.

Still, a small part of him—the part buried so deeply he rarely acknowledged it—felt the faintest tug of longing. It wasn’t jealousy, not quite. It was more like a quiet ache, an unspoken wish he’d long since stopped indulging.

Seungmin was thirty, single, and firmly rooted in his routines. He’d dated before, once or twice, but none of it had lasted. His last relationship, years ago now, had ended with an apologetic sigh from his then-girlfriend:

“You’re a good person, Seungmin. But you’re… too quiet. Too predictable. I don’t think this is what I want.”

He hadn’t argued with her. She wasn’t wrong.

Since then, Seungmin hadn’t tried again. It wasn’t that he didn’t want companionship; he just couldn’t bring himself to put in the effort. Life was easier when it was simple, and Seungmin’s life was exactly that: easy, predictable, and maybe—if he were being honest—just a little boring.

He didn’t mind. Not usually.

But today, surrounded by all this brightness and warmth, he couldn’t help but wonder: was this really enough?

No, don’t start that, he told himself, shifting his weight as the train lurched forward. He focused on the steady hum of the train, the cool metal pole under his hand, the faint smell of someone’s cologne.

Simple was good. Simple was peaceful.

The train arrived at his stop, and Seungmin followed the flow of passengers out onto the platform. By the time he stepped into the crisp morning air, the flicker of longing had faded. It always did.

As he approached his office building, a sleek, glassy tower that reflected the pale sky, he felt the familiar sense of comfort settle over him. He adjusted his tie, smoothed the crease of his coat, and pushed open the doors.

Another day. Another quiet, ordinary day.

Seungmin stood near the elevator, blending into the quiet hum of the office lobby. The soft whir of the coffee machine behind him and the occasional chatter from the growing crowd of employees barely registered in his mind.

He stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the polished metal doors of the elevator. They reflected the dim shapes of people around him—blurry outlines that shifted with every step. He was aware of their presence, of course, but only vaguely. Their voices rose and fell in snippets of conversation:

“Did you see the memo about next week’s meeting?”
“Oh my god, those roses on my desk were from him! Can you believe it?”
“I swear, our team is the worst with deadlines…”

Seungmin kept his head low, adjusting his grip on his worn leather briefcase. He didn’t join the chatter. He didn’t know their names, their lives, or their routines beyond these fleeting interactions in the elevator lobby.

And that’s fine, he thought, letting his mind drift. It’s easier this way.

The elevator chimed, its doors sliding open to release another wave of employees. People shuffled forward, filling the space in front of him. Seungmin stayed back, waiting his turn.

That’s when someone stepped closer to him. Way too close.

He tensed slightly, a reflex born of habit rather than annoyance. Before he could step aside, a voice cut through his thoughts.

“Good morning, Seungmin-ssi.”

Seungmin blinked, turning his head to find Hwang Hyunjin standing beside him, a faint smile curving his lips.

“Good morning, Hyunjin-ssi,” Seungmin replied quietly, bowing his head slightly.

Hyunjin was, by all accounts, everything Seungmin wasn’t. Where Seungmin faded into the background, Hyunjin lit up any room he entered. His tall frame, impeccable style, and naturally friendly demeanor made him stand out among their colleagues. It didn’t hurt that his sharp jawline and bright, expressive eyes had a way of drawing people in—clients and coworkers alike.

Hyunjin had been promoted almost a year ago, despite starting at the company at the same time as Seungmin. No one questioned it. He was a natural. Seungmin sometimes marveled at how effortlessly Hyunjin seemed to navigate their world. The endless networking, the schmoozing, the late-night dinners with senior staff—it all seemed to come so easily to him.

Seungmin, on the other hand, had never once joined their team for a night out.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open with a smooth, practiced efficiency. People began to file in, the bustling crowd thinning slightly as individuals jockeyed for position.

Hwang Hyunjin, standing just a step ahead, moved slightly to the side and gestured lightly for Seungmin to enter first.

“Thank you,” Seungmin said softly, his tone polite but unassuming. He stepped inside, keeping to his usual corner near the back. It was a habit, almost a ritual, to seek the most out-of-the-way spot.

The elevator filled quickly, people cramming themselves into every available inch as the soft murmur of office conversations continued. Seungmin adjusted his briefcase, careful not to bump into anyone. It wasn’t long before Hyunjin entered as well, moving to stand just in front of him. He gripped the metal railing on the side with one hand, his posture as effortless as ever.

Seungmin watched the scene quietly, noting how Hyunjin carried himself with the same natural ease he always seemed to possess. Even here, surrounded by the morning chaos, Hyunjin’s movements were smooth, as though nothing could truly ruffle him.

More employees squeezed in at the last second, someone muttering, “There’s space, just move in!” The air grew heavier, the faint scent of cologne and coffee mingling in the confined space.

Then, the elevator jolted slightly as it began its ascent. Hyunjin stumbled, his polished shoes skidding against the smooth floor.

Seungmin reacted without thinking. His hand shot out, his fingers catching Hyunjin’s waist to steady him. The action was quick, almost mechanical, but the contact was firm enough to keep Hyunjin from toppling into the person beside him.

“Ah—sorry!” Hyunjin exclaimed, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he straightened himself. He turned his head just enough to look back, his expression caught somewhere between sheepish and grateful. “Thank you, Seungmin-ssi.”

Seungmin let go immediately, his hand retreating to his side as though the contact had never happened. His face remained calm, betraying no sign of the brief touch. “It’s fine,” he said simply, his tone as steady and composed as always.

Hyunjin adjusted his suit jacket, brushing off invisible dust with a quick, practiced motion. He glanced over his shoulder again, offering Seungmin a faint, awkward smile. It wasn’t his usual bright grin—the one he reserved for clients and colleagues during meetings. This one was smaller, more subdued, as though Hyunjin wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

Seungmin didn’t return the smile. His gaze shifted to the floor indicator above the doors, watching the numbers change as the elevator continued its smooth ascent. To him, the interaction was a momentary ripple, something that barely registered beyond the immediate necessity of keeping someone from falling.

The space around them was filled with the quiet hum of the elevator motor, the occasional shuffle of shoes, and faint murmurs of conversation. No one else seemed to notice the brief exchange, and for that, Seungmin was grateful.

When the elevator chimed again, the doors slid open onto their floor. The crowd spilled out in a practiced flow, people moving quickly toward their desks and tasks for the day.

Seungmin stepped into the hallway, his stride measured and unhurried. Hyunjin walked ahead of him, his long legs carrying him toward his usual desk near the large corner windows.

It wasn’t unusual for Hyunjin to draw attention as he moved through the office. A few heads turned, some greeted him as he passed, and others sent fleeting glances his way. But Hyunjin barely seemed to notice, his focus already on whatever awaited him at his workstation.

As for Seungmin, the interaction in the elevator didn’t linger in his mind. It had been a small moment, an insignificant occurrence in the grand scheme of the day. By the time he reached his own desk, his thoughts had already shifted back to the quiet rhythm of his routine.

Seungmin adjusted the papers on his desk, mentally organizing the day ahead. His computer was still booting up, the soft hum of the machine a constant in the quiet office. He pulled up his to-do list, skimming through the tasks that would fill his morning. Everything was routine—nothing unexpected.

A pair of hands suddenly clapped down on his shoulders, breaking his concentration. The force was unexpected, and Seungmin stiffened, momentarily startled.

“Good morning, Seungmin!”

Seungmin grimaced slightly at the boisterous voice that filled his space. Changbin. One of the loudest senior employees in the department.

Seungmin turned slowly in his chair, offering a polite smile that was more of an automatic gesture than genuine warmth. “Good morning, Changbin-hyung.”

Changbin was already launching into a casual monologue, as he often did, his words coming at a fast pace, nearly drowning out the quieter noise of the office around them. He was the type to fill every silence with chatter, and Seungmin—having dealt with it for the past several years—had long learned to respond without really engaging.

“Did you hear about the new project? Apparently, the manager wants it finished by the end of the week, but the specs are all over the place,” Changbin said, shaking his head dramatically as he leaned against his desk. “How are you feeling about it?”

Seungmin nodded, offering a brief response that wouldn’t invite further probing. “I’m sure it will be fine. We just need to keep organized.”

Changbin seemed satisfied with that, nodding his approval. The conversation drifted from project updates to lighter topics—mostly about the weather and a few coworkers’ antics in the hallway—but eventually, the direction shifted, as it always did, to lunch.

“So, I found this great new meat restaurant down the street, just a few blocks from the building. You should come with me today. It’s been ages since we’ve had a good lunch, huh?” Changbin’s voice became more enthusiastic, his eyes lighting up at the mention of food.

Seungmin felt his stomach tighten. Changbin had always been like this—inviting him to lunch, making a point of offering a meal. Seungmin had never been sure why. He knew it wasn’t because Changbin particularly enjoyed his company. More likely, it was out of some misplaced sense of duty. After all, if Seungmin didn’t go with his deskmate, he would likely spend lunch alone in the cafeteria, or worse, eating snacks at his desk while doing his work, not socialising with any of the other employees.

Seungmin knew Changbin had noticed that. It wasn’t hard to guess that his invitations were less about the meal and more about keeping Seungmin from isolating himself. Seungmin didn’t mind eating alone. It was a comfortable solitude, one that allowed him to get through his day without distractions or obligations. But he had long stopped trying to explain that to Changbin.

“I’m fine, really. Thank you, though,” Seungmin said, offering a polite but firm response.

Changbin just laughed, unaffected by Seungmin’s reluctance. “Alright, I’ll find someone else to go with, then,” he said, his voice still upbeat. He gave Seungmin a wide, easy smile, as if the offer had been nothing more than a casual suggestion.

With a final pat on Seungmin’s shoulder, Changbin turned to leave, already looking around the office for his next target.

“See you later, Seungmin!”

Seungmin watched him go, his expression neutral, and then turned back to his desk. His computer had finished loading. He picked up his mouse and clicked to begin his day, the moment already slipping into the background.

It was always like this with Changbin. The invitations, the polite refusals, the fleeting moments of interaction that passed without leaving any trace behind. Seungmin sometimes wondered why Changbin even bothered—whether it was guilt, or just the need to fill the silence around him.

The familiar hum of his computer was a welcome sound, and Seungmin was just about to dive into his work when the door to the office swung open with a force that made him flinch. The sound of someone talking loudly filled the air, and Seungmin immediately recognized the voice—Han Jisung.

Jisung’s presence in the office was impossible to ignore. When it came to being loud, he was in the same league as Changbin. It was as if he couldn’t speak without letting the whole room know exactly what he was saying. This morning, like every morning, Jisung was on a phone call, his voice carrying clearly across the room as he discussed something—Seungmin didn’t care to listen to the specifics.

Jisung ended the call with a cheerful, “Alright, talk to you later!” and immediately started greeting the other employees with his usual boisterous energy.

Seungmin didn’t have to look up to know what was happening. Jisung’s greetings were as loud as ever, carried on waves of unrestrained enthusiasm. He could already hear the way Jisung bounced from desk to desk, his voice rising and falling as he moved around the office, all while making sure no one could escape his attention.

It wasn’t long before Seungmin felt the inevitable shift. As always, Jisung skipped over to his desk with an exaggerated step, drawing out the syllables of his greeting like a sing-song chant.

“Seungminie~!”

Seungmin didn’t react, only continuing to focus on the screen in front of him. He didn’t need to turn around. It had become a familiar routine—Jisung’s voice, his approach, and the way he always made sure to greet Seungmin last, with the same odd smile and infuriatingly cheery tone.

It was strange.

Seungmin didn’t know why Jisung did it. They weren’t friends. They barely interacted outside of these moments. So why always the same over-the-top greeting, the sing-song manner that didn’t quite fit the professional atmosphere? Maybe Jisung did it to everyone, but Seungmin couldn’t really say. He had never paid enough attention to anyone else’s interactions.

But something about it always rubbed him the wrong way. It wasn’t that Jisung was necessarily doing anything wrong, but the forced cheerfulness felt out of place, especially from someone who wasn’t a close colleague. Seungmin never asked for this kind of attention, and yet Jisung seemed determined to give it. It was awkward, in a way Seungmin couldn’t quite explain.

“Morning, Jisung-ssi,” Seungmin replied, his voice polite, but distant.

Jisung laughed, his voice loud enough to make the rest of the office pause. “You’re as adorably cold as always, after all, Seungminie!” he said, and without missing a beat, he walked away, bouncing back toward his next target.

Seungmin watched him go, his expression unchanged. The interaction, like so many others, slipped away into the background of his day.

It was just another weird moment he had to face—another reminder that he was part of a team that didn’t really include him, or tried to but Seungmin didn’t bother to check.

Sometimes, Seungmin wondered if Jisung even knew how uncomfortable it made him, how his forced attempts at camaraderie only highlighted Seungmin’s own isolation. It was obvious that Jisung was trying to fit him into the group, to make him feel like he belonged, but it only made Seungmin feel pathetic.

Not that it mattered.

Seungmin didn’t need to fit in. It wasn’t important. He was fine on his own, even if that feeling of being out of place lingered quietly at the edges of his thoughts.

So he returned to his work, pushing the feeling aside as the minutes ticked by. It was easier this way—focus on the tasks at hand, the things that mattered, rather than the distractions of unwanted attention.

It was lunchtime when Seungmin finally saw him—Yongbok, his deskmate. He assumed Yongbok had just came back from a morning meeting with a client, based on what the other man had informed him yesterday. When he entered the office after a visit to the toilet, he found Yongbok sitting at his desk, reviewing something on his computer.

They weren’t far apart in age, and because their desks were placed so closely, it was nearly impossible for them to not exchange at least a few words each day. It was how they had become friends, by default, really. Friends, not just colleagues.

Seungmin didn’t have many friends—he had never really been someone to go out of his way to form deep connections. But Yongbok was different. He was reserved too, but he didn’t shy away from socializing when necessary. He was the kind of person who balanced between keeping a low profile and blending into the social fabric of the office. He wasn’t loud, like Changbin or Jisung, but his quiet charm made him well-liked by everyone.

Yongbok was also pretty cute. Seungmin didn’t feel the need to deny it. It wasn’t like it was some big revelation. There were plenty of people in the office who adored him, and Seungmin understood why. If Seungmin had to admit that he found someone attractive, it would be Yongbok. But that wasn’t important. At least, it shouldn’t be.

Seungmin scooted his chair a little closer to Yongbok’s desk, leaning slightly over to catch his attention.

“How did the meeting go?” Seungmin asked, his voice quiet, but carrying the interest he couldn’t entirely hide.

Yongbok sighed heavily, pushing a hand through his hair in a motion that was almost theatrical in its weariness. He turned to Seungmin, his expression briefly deadpan.

“Difficult. The client was being a pain, asking for unreasonable demands.” He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “But we managed to make the deal in the end. Barely.”

Seungmin smiled, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards at the sight of Yongbok’s exaggerated frustration. It was rare for him to complain so openly, and Seungmin appreciated how genuine he was, even in moments like this.

“Good job,” Seungmin said, his voice soft but sincere. He nodded, as if approving of the effort Yongbok had put in. “I knew you’d get it done.”

Yongbok smiled, the frustration in his eyes melting away as he turned to face Seungmin more fully. It was the kind of smile that made everything else around Seungmin fall into the background. Yongbok’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and for a brief moment, the warmth in his expression made the air around them feel lighter.

Seungmin couldn’t look away. The smile was so pretty. It was the kind of smile that made Seungmin feel both a little embarrassed and a little warmer all at once. There was something about it, something about Yongbok’s genuine appreciation for the small gesture of praise that hit Seungmin in a way he couldn’t fully explain.

“Thanks, Seungmin,” Yongbok said, still smiling in that way that made Seungmin’s chest tighten in a way he didn’t understand. “It’s always nice to hear that from you.”

Seungmin nodded, his hand resting on the edge of his desk as he allowed the moment to stretch out. There was a strange sense of peace in the quiet exchange, a comfort that was rare for him, especially in this office.

Yongbok had turned back to his screen, but there was still a quiet, easy warmth between them.

Seungmin exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. The moment had passed, but the feeling lingered—just a little longer than it should have.

He wasn’t sure why it was so hard to let it go.

Just as Seungmin was about to return to his work, a familiar presence approached. Chan, their manager, walked up to their desks with his usual warm smile. Seungmin didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The steady, reassuring energy that came with Chan’s footsteps was unmistakable.

Chan placed a hand on both of their shoulders, the gesture comfortable and familiar, like an older brother who knew exactly when to offer praise or encouragement.

He first looked at Yongbok, his expression shifting to one of sincere approval. “Good work today, Yongbok,” he said, his voice low but filled with genuine appreciation. “You were amazing in that meeting. You really saved us.”

Yongbok flushed a little at the sudden praise, his eyes dropping to his desk as though it could offer him a way to escape the attention. He shifted in his seat, shrugging his shoulders, clearly not used to it despite being the center of such praise for so many times.

Seungmin could see the subtle shift in his friend’s expression—the way his cheeks darkened, his modesty keeping him from basking in the praise he truly deserved. It was a familiar sight, and Seungmin couldn’t help the small, proud smile that tugged at his lips.

“Yeah, I knew you’d get it done,” Seungmin added, his voice warm but quiet, and his smile just a little more genuine than usual.

Yongbok glanced at Seungmin, his shy smile returning, grateful but still somewhat embarrassed. “Thanks, Seungmin. Really, I’m just glad it worked out.”

Chan chuckled softly, ruffling Yongbok’s hair affectionately before turning his attention to both of them. His gaze softened, the same calm kindness always radiating from him. “Well, since you two did such a good job today,” Chan said, his tone brightening, “I’m about to head out for lunch. Would you two like to join me? It’ll be on me.”

Yongbok’s face lit up slightly at the invitation, and without hesitation, he nodded. “Sure, that sounds great!”

Seungmin felt the weight of Chan’s gaze shift to him, the manager’s expectant look lingering a moment longer than it should have. There was a small, almost imperceptible pause as both Chan and Yongbok waited for Seungmin’s response. The warm pressure of their attention made him feel uneasy, in a way he couldn’t explain.

He smiled, polite as always, and shook his head. “Thank you, but I’ve got some work to catch up on.” His voice was steady, calm, betraying no hint of regret. He was used to this.

Chan nodded, understanding in his eyes, and gave Seungmin’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Alright, then. Maybe next time,” he said, his smile warm and full of no obligation.

Chan turned to leave, and Yongbok followed behind him, still smiling at Seungmin. As he walked away, Yongbok gave him one last wave, his expression softer than it had been earlier, but still filled with that modest warmth.

Seungmin returned the wave, though his heart felt a small, quiet ache that he didn’t have the energy to chase away. His gaze lingered for a moment before he turned back to his desk, letting out a small sigh.

He should be used to this by now. It wasn’t the first time he had politely turned down an invitation. After all, work came first. But for some reason, today, the familiar hum of his computer screen and the tasks waiting for his attention felt distant, like a reminder of the same routine.

He sighed again, settling into his seat as his fingers hovered over the keyboard. The day would go on, like it always did. Just another hour, just another task to complete. But for a brief moment, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to join them, to not always be the one left behind.

But the thought passed quickly. It always did.

Seungmin had been working steadily for some time now, his focus trained on his screen, fingers clicking quietly against the keyboard. The hum of the office around him was a familiar backdrop, filled with the usual ebb and flow of chatter and occasional laughter. He had learned long ago how to tune most of it out, and today was no exception.

Jisung’s voice was the loudest, as always. Seungmin could hear snippets of his enthusiastic chatter, though he made a conscious effort not to process the words. Something about a new song he discovered or maybe a show he watched last night—it didn’t matter. Jisung was always sharing some random piece of his life with anyone who would listen.

From the other side of the office, Changbin chimed in, his laugh ringing loud and clear, followed by Hyunjin’s playful retort. Their banter bounced back and forth like a never-ending game of verbal tag, the kind that occasionally drew in other colleagues for a comment or two before fading into the usual trio’s dynamic.

Seungmin, however, shared only the occasional glance with Yongbok, his silent partner in quiet judgment. Every time the trio grew just a little too loud for the professional atmosphere, Seungmin’s gaze would lift briefly from his screen, meeting Yongbok’s with a knowing look. A subtle exchange, no words needed. Yongbok often covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, while Seungmin simply shook his head and returned to his work, the corners of his lips twitching in a faint smile.

Then came the inevitable escalation.

“Hey! Someone go with me to…” Jisung’s voice rose above the general office din, as it always did. Seungmin didn’t catch the full sentence, nor did he care to. Whatever it was Jisung was requesting had nothing to do with their work. That much was certain.

Seungmin exhaled quietly, lowering his head slightly. His gaze fixed firmly on his desk, his posture deliberate as he tried to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. It was a practiced habit, this avoidance. When Jisung was in one of his “team-building” moods, he had a knack for zeroing in on Seungmin. And while Seungmin knew he could simply say no, it was easier to just not be noticed in the first place.

It worked.

Jisung’s eyes didn’t land on him. Instead, he turned to Hyunjin, pulling him into his usual whirlwind of enthusiasm. The two left the office together, Jisung leading with his signature animated stride while Hyunjin followed with a faintly amused expression, the picture of reluctant cooperation.

Seungmin allowed himself a small sigh of relief as the office quieted ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to refocus. He straightened in his chair, his attention returning to his screen, the soft clatter of keys blending once more with the familiar hum of the office.

It was a small victory, but one he was quietly grateful for.

Seungmin settled back into his chair with a quiet sigh, his focus returning to the task on his screen. The hum of the office buzzed faintly around him, but he tuned it out with practiced ease. Typing steadily, he allowed himself to get lost in the rhythm of his work.

And then, thud.

Something hit him on the back of his head.

Seungmin’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as he tried to shake off the faint sting at the back of his head. His eyes shifted to the offending crumpled paper now lying on his desk, a messy ball of recycled annoyance. Slowly, he looked up, scanning the office until his gaze met a pair of unblinking eyes.

Lee Minho.

Minho’s expression was as unreadable as ever, his stare sharp and unwavering. He wasn’t doing anything else—just sitting there, one elbow resting on his desk, chin propped in his hand, as if he had all the time in the world to silently torment Seungmin.

Seungmin sighed internally. He didn’t know Minho very well, but what he did know was that the man had an uncanny knack for bothering him specifically. While Minho was generally quiet and sweet to most of the younger staff, with Seungmin, he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in teasing.

It wasn’t new. Seungmin had grown used to the crumpled-paper assaults, the sudden bumps in the hallway, or Minho’s ridiculous habit of making faces at him across the office. Sometimes it felt like Minho was constantly trying to provoke him, daring him to react.

Like now.

Minho’s eyes stayed locked on him, unblinking and intense, his gaze practically screaming “do something about it.” Seungmin stared back for a moment, debating if it was worth the effort, before exhaling softly and brushing the paper ball to the side. He turned his attention back to his computer.

But peace didn’t last long.

Thud.

Another crumpled ball landed squarely on his desk, bouncing once before settling next to the first. This time, it earned a faint scowl from Seungmin. He looked up again, slower this time, and found Minho staring even harder. The man’s lips moved silently, clearly mouthing the words “read the paper!”

Seungmin clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. As much as Minho acted like a perpetual annoyance, he was still older, still technically a senior staff member. Respect demanded restraint.

With a resigned sigh, Seungmin grabbed the crumpled paper and flattened it out. The scrawled message made his lips tighten into a thin line.

Make me a coffee.

Seungmin’s brows twitched in irritation. It wasn’t the request itself—he had done it before. It was Minho’s insistence that only he could make it the way he liked it, combined with the man’s ridiculous level of specificity.

The coffee had to be hot, but not too hot. Sweet, but not overly so. Creamy, but not to the point where it tasted like dessert. Too many rules, too many ways to mess it up. And yet, somehow, Seungmin had apparently mastered the art.

Minho’s exact words echoed faintly in his mind: “You’re the only one who gets it.”

Seungmin glanced up one more time. Minho was still staring, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk as if he knew he’d won.

Annoyed but determined to keep his composure, Seungmin pushed back his chair and stood up. He could feel Minho’s gaze follow him as he made his way to the pantry.

If this was a game, Seungmin had no intention of playing along. But even as he prepared the coffee, carefully balancing the temperature and sweetness to Minho’s impossibly specific standards, he couldn’t help but wonder why Minho even bothered with this routine.

Seungmin busied himself in the pantry, grumbling under his breath as he measured the coffee grounds. He had mastered Minho’s absurdly specific instructions long ago, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed catering to them.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, reaching for the sugar. “Not too sweet, not too creamy. What does that even mean? A personality test for coffee?”

He poured the hot water with precision, trying not to think about Minho’s smug face waiting for him back at his desk. As he stirred, Seungmin became so absorbed in mentally listing all the reasons Minho’s coffee habit was a workplace hazard that he didn’t notice someone entering the pantry until they spoke.

“Coffee for Minho-hyung again?”

Seungmin flinched at the sudden voice, his grip on the spoon tightening. He spun around quickly, coming face to face with Yang Jeongin.

The intern was leaning casually against the counter, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Jeongin,” Seungmin said, his voice even but surprised.

Jeongin was a relatively new addition to the company, having joined as an intern four months ago. Seungmin didn’t talk to him much, but Jeongin greeted him without fail every morning. Occasionally, they’d exchange small talk if they found themselves in the same space, like now.

Unlike other interns who gravitated toward the senior staff in hopes of making an impression, Jeongin didn’t seem to do that. In fact, Seungmin couldn’t recall seeing him hanging out with the louder crowd at all. It puzzled him. If Jeongin wanted to impress anyone, wouldn’t Chan or Changbin be the obvious choices?

Seungmin sometimes wondered if Jeongin felt more comfortable around him because of their relatively close age—Jeongin was just a year younger. But then again, why him? Seungmin wasn’t exactly the most approachable person in the office.

Seungmin sighed, setting the coffee cup down. “You know how he is.”

Jeongin let out a soft chuckle, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I don’t get him either. People usually stop pulling their crush’s pigtails when they’re five.”

Seungmin froze, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected comment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeongin only smiled mischievously, his expression unreadable. Before Seungmin could press further, the microwave beeped, signaling the end of its cycle. Jeongin turned away to retrieve his bento box, skillfully avoiding the question.

As he packed up, he glanced at Seungmin again, this time with a light pat on his back. “Cheer up. I’ll be supporting you.”

And just like that, Jeongin walked out of the pantry, leaving Seungmin standing there, thoroughly bewildered.

Supporting me? Seungmin blinked after him, the strange comment lingering in his thoughts. What was Jeongin even talking about?

Shaking his head to clear the confusion, Seungmin grabbed the freshly made coffee and exited the pantry. Whatever Jeongin meant, it didn’t matter.

Time to deliver this to the devil and get back to work.

The office was quieter than usual as Seungmin prepared to leave, most of the employees already having gone home. He had exchanged polite farewells with Chan and the others, endured Jisung’s overly enthusiastic “Byebye, Seungminie!” with a strained smile, and offered a genuine, if brief, nod to Yongbok. Now, with his desk cleared and his belongings neatly packed, he exited the building into the crisp evening air.

The remnants of Valentine’s Day festivities lingered in the streets, more vibrant than they had been in the morning. Couples strolled hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the occasional exchange of affectionate words. Pink scarves and jackets were everywhere, matched with bouquets of roses or small heart-shaped boxes.

Seungmin kept his head down, pretending not to notice. As he had said, it wasn’t as though he begrudged anyone their happiness—it was lovely, really. But there was something about walking home alone, to an empty apartment, that made the air feel heavier.

It’s just another day, he told himself, quickening his pace. Junk food and a movie is waiting for me at home.

He was only a block away from his building when something caught his attention. A soft glow from the corner of an alleyway—one he’d passed countless times before.

The glow came from a small, cluttered shop. It hadn’t been there this morning. Seungmin stopped in his tracks, staring at it. Trinkets, cards, and candles filled its windows, and among them stood an old woman, her gaze fixed on him like she’d been expecting him all along.

“Spending this lovely day all alone, dear?” the old woman asked, her voice smooth but tinged with mischief.

Seungmin flinched, her words catching him off guard. He hesitated, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Uh, yeah. But it’s fine, really.”

“Fine?” The old woman stepped closer, shaking her head. “No, it isn’t, dear. And it’s time for you to do something about it.”

“Do what—” Seungmin began, but the woman grabbed his arm, startling him as she led him into her shop.

She hummed to herself, her eyes scanning the shelves like she knew exactly what she was looking for. Seungmin tried to protest, but her grip was surprisingly firm for someone so frail-looking.

“Ah! Here it is!” she declared, plucking a small diamond-shaped bottle from a shelf. The liquid inside shimmered, pink and glittery, catching the faint light and refracting it like a prism.

Seungmin stared at it, his initial confusion fading into something closer to fascination. “What is that?”

“Just a little good luck potion,” she said, her tone light but deliberate. “Something to improve your luck, dear. A sip will do wonders for you.”

“Good luck potion?” Seungmin echoed, incredulous. His skepticism warred with the undeniable allure of the liquid. It was mesmerizing, almost unnaturally so.

The old woman’s grin widened. “Go on. Take it. Free of charge, just for you. Call it a Valentine’s gift.”

“Why would I—” Seungmin started, but the words died on his tongue.

“Give it a try,” she urged, releasing his arm and shooing him toward the street. “Even if you don’t believe in luck, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

Seungmin blinked, staring at the bottle now in his hand. He had no idea how it had ended up there. He opened his mouth to protest again, but the old woman gently pushed him toward the direction of his building.

“Go home, dear,” she said with a mysterious smile. “It’s a big day for you tomorrow.”

Feeling entirely unmoored, Seungmin stumbled back toward the street, bowing slightly out of habit. “Uh, thank you... I guess?”

When he glanced back at the alleyway after turning the corner, he froze. The shop—and the old woman—were gone.

The space where they’d been was dark and empty, the same as it had always been.

Seungmin frowned, gripping the bottle tightly in his hand. His heart raced, his mind swimming with questions, but no answers came. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s super creepy, what the hell,” he muttered, continuing on his way.

The bottle glimmered faintly in his hand, as if it had heard him and was currently laughing at him.

When Seungmin finally got home, he barely had the energy to kick off his shoes before trudging inside. The day had felt longer than usual, and his brain buzzed with lingering tasks he hadn’t managed to complete.

The apartment was silent, save for the hum of the fridge and the faint ticking of the wall clock. Seungmin sighed, tossing his bag onto the couch. He barely remembered the old lady or the strange encounter in the alleyway. All he could think about was his nightly routine: freshen up, eat a quick meal, and get through at least one more report before bed.

After a quick shower, he reheated some leftovers, mindlessly eating as he skimmed through his phone. His mind wandered to the pink-lit streets he’d walked through earlier, the laughter and closeness of couples that seemed a world away from his own solitude. He brushed the thought aside as quickly as it came.

With his teeth brushed and his paperwork reviewed, Seungmin stretched his stiff shoulders and prepared to call it a night. He had barely made it to his bed when something flickered in his memory—a faint glimmer, pink and glittery.

His brow furrowed as he turned back to his bag, unzipping it to pull out the small diamond-shaped bottle. The liquid inside swirled faintly under the dim light, just as captivating as it had been in the alleyway.

Seungmin stared at it, frowning. The old lady said to take a sip, right?

But then again, was it even safe to drink? A glittery liquid from a stranger—it sounded like the setup for a bad story.

“What if she’s crazy? Or worse, what if it’s poison?” he muttered to himself, turning the bottle over in his hands.

Yet, something about the liquid called to him, the same way it had back in the alley. The way it shimmered, almost alive, made it impossible to dismiss.

The thought whispered in his mind, louder than before: You won’t know unless you try.

Seungmin let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is stupid,” he muttered before pulling the tiny cork off the bottle.

Without giving himself another moment to reconsider, he tipped it back, draining the contents in one go.

The taste hit him immediately—sweet, almost sickeningly so. Seungmin’s face scrunched up, his lips pressing into a tight line. He had expected bitterness, maybe a metallic aftertaste. It was a potion, after all, wasn’t it? But no. It was cloying, as though someone had melted down pure sugar and mixed it with syrup for good measure.

“Ugh,” he groaned, setting the empty bottle on his bedside table. His throat felt dry, like the sweetness had somehow sapped all the moisture from his mouth.

He reached for his water bottle, gulping down a few sips to wash the taste away. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, wiping his mouth. “She could’ve at least mentioned how gross it was.”

Seungmin crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over himself. Whether the potion worked or not didn’t matter; he had work tomorrow, and the thought of another long day already made his eyes feel heavy.

As he drifted off to sleep, the faint glimmer of the empty bottle on his bedside table seemed to fade into the shadows, its soft pink glow disappearing into the quiet night.

Seungmin woke up with an odd sensation at the back of his neck. It was sore, almost like he had slept in a strange position, but that wasn’t it. He felt more tired than usual—his body heavy, his head clouded with that persistent sense of exhaustion. But nothing he had done yesterday should’ve drained him this much. He had simply worked, gone home, and drunk that strange potion before heading to bed.

He brushed off the thought, muttering a quiet sigh as he dragged himself out of bed. The reality of the morning hit him once again. The same soft morning light, the same monotonous routine, the same exhaustion. It was all just too much sometimes.

He made his way to the subway, trudging through the crowds of commuters like he did every day. The station was just as packed as usual. People elbowed their way through the gates, their faces weary and impatient. Seungmin kept his head down, trying his best to avoid anyone brushing against him. He could feel his own fatigue settling deeper into his bones as the time dragged on.

Once the train arrived, the battle for space began again. People pushed their way into the already crowded car, all trying to get the best spot as if it would somehow make their day better. Seungmin squeezed himself into a corner by the door, trying to keep his distance from everyone.

The train jerked into motion, and Seungmin adjusted his stance, leaning slightly against the pole beside him. It wasn’t long before the train made a sharp turn, and in that moment, his body leaned a little too much into the man beside him.

He heard a voice—loud, sudden, and furious.

“He’s stepping on my foot! Get off! Get off!”

Seungmin snapped his head to the side, eyes wide. Sure enough, he had stepped on the man’s foot. Flustered, he quickly retracted his foot. “Sorry!” he muttered, apologizing as he glanced up at the man.

But then he froze.

The man was still staring at him, eyes wide with frustration. His lips didn’t move, though. Seungmin’s gaze flicked down, expecting to hear a response, but nothing came from the man’s mouth. Yet the words “thank goodness, I was so close to tears” echoed in Seungmin’s head, clear as day.

Seungmin’s stomach twisted into a knot. Was he hearing things? Did the man speak, or was it his imagination?

A chill ran down his spine. He took a step back, trying to distance himself from the man, but in doing so, he bumped into a woman beside him.

She spun around, glaring up at him with a venomous expression.

“Ugh, what is this pervert looking at? I really hate public transport!”

Again, her lips didn’t move. The words came clearly into Seungmin’s mind, but she wasn’t speaking.

What the hell was going on?

He quickly glanced around, but nothing seemed unusual. The train was as crowded as ever, people bumping into each other, chatting, and making small talk. But for some reason, it felt like he could hear too much. Every glance, every subtle facial expression, felt like an open book.

“Can these people stop bumping into me? I’m about to lose it.” The thoughts came from the man Seungmin had accidentally leaned into, just as clearly as if he were speaking them aloud.

Seungmin’s head spun. It didn’t make sense. His mind was racing, trying to process what was happening. These weren’t voices coming from the people. They were thoughts—clear, raw thoughts that felt like they were echoing in his mind.

He could hear every passing judgment, every irritation, every little thing that everyone around him was thinking.

“Please don’t let anyone notice my unmatched shoes today. I don’t want to deal with this,” came a quiet thought from the woman he bumped into.

A wave of confusion washed over Seungmin. It felt like the world was suddenly too loud, but in the weirdest way—no one was speaking, but their thoughts were loud, clear as if they were standing right next to him and whispering in his ear. And none of it made any sense.

He tried to push through it, but as he stood in the crowded train, the thoughts kept bombarding him. People were glaring at him, their minds full of unspoken judgments. He could feel their irritation, their discomfort, and even their hidden admiration.

“Ugh, I look so tired today. I hope no one notices.” That thought came from a woman across from him, as she adjusted her scarf.

The train made another turn, and Seungmin tried to clear his head. He needed to focus. The confusion was getting worse. Why can I hear them? What’s happening?

He tried to push through the crowd, but it was like a tidal wave of voices crashing over him. He could hear the thoughts, but the people’s lips never moved. It was like they were speaking without saying anything.

And then, just as he was about to step off the train, something clicked.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if someone could
hear my thought and all they hear is Mario Kart theme song?” a voice wondered. It was faint, like a whisper just outside of his reach.

Seungmin froze, his breath catching in his throat. Had someone just said that aloud? No, it wasn’t from someone’s mouth—it was a thought. His mind raced as the realization dawned on him.

The potion. The potion must’ve done something to me.

He didn’t know what was happening, but one thing was clear: his world had just turned upside down, and he had no idea how to turn it back.

Seungmin finally stepped into the office building, still shaken from the bizarre experience on the train. After spending nearly half an hour in the restroom splashing water on his face and trying to convince himself it was all just his imagination, he finally pulled himself together.

He was determined to get through the day without any more odd encounters.

The lobby was quieter than usual. Most of his colleagues had already arrived, so only a handful of stragglers lingered around the elevator bay. Seungmin kept his distance from everyone, standing stiffly near the wall as he waited for the next elevator. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets to avoid accidentally brushing against anyone.

Just as he was starting to feel a bit calmer, he felt a gentle nudge at his side.

He flinched, instinctively stepping back.

“Oh, sorry!” a familiar voice said with a chuckle. Seungmin glanced up to find Hyunjin smiling at him, the ever-polished figure leaning casually against the wall. “Late today too, Seungmin-ssi?”

Seungmin forced an awkward laugh, his heart racing for reasons other than embarrassment. He shuffled slightly away, keeping as much space as he could between them. “Yeah… uh, traffic.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in confusion. “Don’t you take the train?”

Seungmin froze for half a second, mentally kicking himself. “Oh, right,” he muttered, flushing as he scratched the back of his neck. “I meant… the train was crowded.”

Hyunjin chuckled, brushing it off as if it was the most normal response in the world. “No worries. If Chan-hyung asks, I’ll back you up.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. A small group of employees stepped inside. Seungmin waited, letting Hyunjin go in first before quietly slipping behind him, ensuring there was enough space to avoid contact. He positioned himself strategically near the corner, using Hyunjin as an unintentional shield from anyone else.

Hyunjin didn’t seem to notice or mind, adjusting his coat and checking his reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. Seungmin, meanwhile, exhaled quietly, focusing his gaze on the floor numbers above the door.

The elevator ride was mercifully silent except for the soft hum of the motor, and Seungmin prayed the strange phenomenon wouldn’t follow him any further into the day.

The elevator dinged softly as it paused at another floor. A handful of employees stepped in, squeezing into the already cramped space. Seungmin braced himself against the back wall, trying to create as much space as possible between himself and the others. It didn’t help.

Hyunjin, tall and oblivious to personal space, shifted closer, his arm pressing firmly against Seungmin’s chest.

Seungmin shuffled back instinctively, but his retreat was cut short by the cold, unforgiving wall behind him. He swallowed hard, trapped between Hyunjin and, apparently, the universe conspiring against him. There was no avoiding it now.

Just as he feared, the first thought hit him like a freight train.

“I can’t believe it! I woke up thinking I’d miss my chance to see my crush this morning. But fate really is on my side—my crush is late too! Isn’t this perfect?”

Seungmin blinked, staring at the back of Hyunjin’s perfectly styled hair.

Crush?

Hyunjin? The Hwang Hyunjin? The company’s unofficial heartthrob, the golden boy with a face sculpted by the gods, an effortless charm that left everyone in awe, and a personality that made him impossible to dislike? That Hyunjin… had a crush?

On someone in the company?

Seungmin’s head spun as he tried to process the revelation. Hyunjin had all the boxes checked—looks, talent, voice, even the position and status. Someone like him didn’t need to pine after anyone. Surely, Hyunjin was already dating someone outside the office. Probably someone just as ethereal as he was.

Before Seungmin could stop himself, his eyes darted around the elevator, searching for potential candidates.

Most of the passengers were senior employees, likely pushing their 50s. That seemed unlikely. However, there were two women in the elevator he recognized: Park Jihyo and Kang Seulgi.

Jihyo, as far as Seungmin knew, was nearly as popular as Hyunjin. Gorgeous, well-dressed, and endlessly charismatic, she had a certain air of confidence that could rival anyone. Kang Seulgi, on the other hand, was quieter and more reserved, always with her head down and coffee in hand. She was currently scrolling through her phone, her long hair obscuring her face.

“That sleepy look! Can you be any cuter?” Hyunjin’s thought cut through Seungmin’s inspection.

Sleepy look? Seungmin furrowed his brows.

Park Jihyo didn’t look sleepy at all—she was actively chatting with another employee, animated as ever. And Kang Seulgi? She looked too focused on her phone to exude anything close to ‘sleepy’.

The elevator dinged again, signaling their floor. As the doors slid open, everyone shuffled out, including Hyunjin.

“Kim Seungmin, the man that you are,” Hyunjin’s thoughts drifted toward him with what could only be described as a mental sigh of pure fondness.

Seungmin froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat.

Kim Seungmin?

He stood rooted in place, watching Hyunjin stride confidently toward his desk as if nothing had happened.

Hwang Hyunjin… has a crush… on him?

Seungmin’s palms grew clammy. His heart hammered in his chest as the weight of realization settled in. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. But there was no denying it.

Panic bubbled to the surface as his thoughts raced uncontrollably.

What do I even do with this information?

Seungmin seriously considered turning around and leaving the office. Maybe he could quit his job, move to another country, and start fresh under a new name.

Because seriously, what in the world was he supposed to do with this information?

Before he could even formulate a plan—or find a plausible excuse to disappear forever—he felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around to find none other than Han Jisung grinning at him like a mischievous kid who had just pulled a prank.

“Seungminie! Why are you just standing there?” Jisung asked, his voice loud enough to echo across the room.

Seungmin opened his mouth, blubbering something incoherent, but Jisung didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed Seungmin by the arm and started pulling him toward his desk.

As they walked, Jisung chattered on about the most random things. “Oh! You wouldn’t believe what happened to me this morning! I saw this stray cat, right? Cutest little thing—until it scratched me. And then when I finally got a taxi, the driver was nonstops complaining about inflation, saying things like ‘kids these days’ bla bla like I had a say about our country’s economic plans. And don’t get me started with—”

Seungmin’s brain wasn’t processing any of it. He was still reeling from the elevator revelation, and now here was Jisung dragging him around like nothing had happened. Everything was moving way too fast, and Seungmin desperately needed a moment to breathe.

Finally, they reached Seungmin’s desk. Jisung plopped Seungmin down in his chair and placed his hands on Seungmin’s shoulders, his grin still firmly in place.

“Alright, let’s get to work then,” Jisung said cheerfully, giving Seungmin’s hair a playful ruffle.

That’s when it hit him.

It was faint at first, but as soon as Jisung’s hands rested on him, Seungmin heard it.

“Seungmin is so cute. Does he have to look like that? I want to eat his cheeks so bad, and oh my god, once I—”

The thought cut off abruptly as Jisung let go and bounded away to greet other employees, leaving Seungmin frozen in place.

…

WAIT.

HAN JISUNG?!

Han Jisung, the office’s self-proclaimed chaos gremlin, had a crush on him too?!

Seungmin hung his head low, hiding his shocked face behind his computer screen. His eyes widened, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ as he stared blankly at his desk.

No. No way. This couldn’t be happening. First Hyunjin, and now Jisung? Absolutely no way.

His hand shot up to pinch the bridge of his nose, an attempt to ward off the headache that was rapidly building.

This whole time, he’d thought Jisung’s constant antics were just a misguided attempt to include him in the group dynamic. But no. No. Jisung actually had feelings for him?

“What the hell,” Seungmin muttered under his breath, groaning quietly as he leaned back in his chair.

He was officially losing his mind.

It had been hours, but Seungmin was making zero progress on his work. His brain refused to cooperate. He stared at the screen, his fingers resting limply on the keyboard, yet no matter how hard he tried to focus, the questions kept flooding his mind.

How long has this been going on? Do they both know? Why me? What did I do to deserve this?!

Every time Hyunjin’s or Jisung’s voice carried across the room, he froze. His head throbbed, and his train of thought derailed spectacularly. And of course, being two of the loudest people in the office, their voices popped up at least once every ten minutes. Sometimes Hyunjin was laughing about something stupid, and other times Jisung was calling out, “Seungminie!” like it was his favorite word in the world.

Seungmin wanted to scream. Or cry. Or maybe both.

What he wanted most, though, was to lean back in his chair and close his eyes. Just nap for eternity. Anything to escape whatever this was. The chaos of today was far beyond his capacity to deal with life.

But he couldn’t even leave his desk. He was too scared to get up, too afraid of being seen. What if he accidentally bumped into one of them again? What if he had to hear another unwanted thought? He wouldn’t survive it.

So, he stayed where he was, hunched over like a shrimp behind his computer, hiding from the world. His body ached from sitting in the same position for so long, but the fear of drawing attention to himself far outweighed any discomfort.

Seungmin let out a quiet groan and buried his face in his hands. How was he supposed to get through the rest of the day like this?

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough for Seungmin, who was desperate for some peace and quiet. At least when Hyunjin and Jisung left for lunch, he’d get a brief respite to try to piece his sanity back together. Just as he attempted to (poorly) focus on his work again, he noticed someone rolling toward him in their chair.

“Seungmin,” came Changbin’s voice, drawing him back to reality.

Seungmin sighed internally. Changbin. Of course. Just when he thought he could catch a break.

Changbin had always been kind and nurturing, which, while nice in theory, was Seungmin’s worst nightmare in situations like this. If Changbin got even the faintest whiff of Seungmin’s current mental chaos, he’d turn it into an office-wide wellness campaign. Seungmin couldn’t risk that.

“Yes, Changbin-hyung?” he said, putting on his most neutral face.

“You have any plans for lunch?” Changbin asked, his tone casual but warm. “Jisung, Hyunjin, Chan-hyung, and I are heading to this seafood place a few blocks away. It’s said to be really popular.”

The mention of Jisung and Hyunjin’s names made Seungmin involuntarily grimace.

“No, thank you,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

Changbin blinked at him, clearly caught off guard.

“I mean—” Seungmin scrambled to salvage the situation, “I brought my own lunch today. I’ll eat in the pantry. But thank you for the invite.”

Changbin tilted his head slightly, his smile thinning. “What a shame. I thought it’d be nice to have you with us today.”

Changbin’s hand dropped onto Seungmin’s desk, his fingers brushing lightly against Seungmin’s arm. Seungmin didn’t even have time to pull away before it happened.

“How many times have I asked? He keeps rejecting me. Does he not want to hang out with us? Does he secretly not like me?”

Seungmin felt his stomach sink. Guilt stabbed at him like a dagger. All this time, he’d thought Changbin’s invitations were just out of politeness or sympathy, but this? Changbin genuinely wanted to spend time with him.

Suddenly, all the times he’d turned Changbin down flashed before his eyes.

Maybe… just once, he could agree to lunch? Not today, of course—definitely not with Jisung and Hyunjin involved—but perhaps tomorrow?

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Seungmin forced himself to speak. “Maybe tomorrow, I could join you for lunch? Just the two of us?”

Changbin’s expression brightened immediately. His eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Yeah! Absolutely! We can go tomorrow, just the two of us. I’ll pick a good place. Let me know if you have any preferences or allergies!”

Seungmin nodded, relieved to see Changbin so happy. For once, he’d managed to make someone’s day better. Changbin had always looked out for him, like the older brother Seungmin had never asked for, and it felt good to finally give something back.

But then, the thoughts came.

“I can’t believe it! Seungmin actually wants to have lunch with me. And just the two of us too! What does this mean? Does he like me back? Oh my god, is this a date? I need to look extra handsome tomorrow!”

Seungmin froze.

Changbin, too?!

Before he could even process what he’d heard, Changbin patted his shoulder and rolled back to his desk with a cheerful grin.

Seungmin sat there, paralyzed, staring blankly at the space Changbin had just occupied. His mind raced.

Changbin didn’t want lunch just to hang out. No, no, no. Changbin wanted lunch because he liked him. Liked him-liked him.

“Oh my god,” Seungmin muttered, dropping his head into his hands.

And he’d agreed to it. A one-on-one lunch. Alone. With Changbin.

Seungmin groaned and let his forehead fall against his desk. Life was officially the worst.

Lunch had finally arrived, and Seungmin breathed a sigh of relief as the office emptied out. Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung had left with Chan, taking with them the noise and chaos that had haunted him all morning. The silence felt like a balm to his frayed nerves.

He hadn’t actually brought any lunch, despite what he’d told Changbin earlier. It didn’t matter, though. Seungmin didn’t have the appetite for anything heavy after the events of the day so far. A cup of coffee and some biscuits from the pantry—Chan’s thoughtful contribution for everyone to enjoy—would suffice.

When Seungmin entered the pantry, he wasn’t surprised to see Jeongin sitting at one of the tables, enjoying his lunch as usual.

Jeongin had a habit of bringing homemade meals to work. Every day, without fail, he could be found in the pantry or at his desk during lunch, meticulously munching on the neatly packed dishes he’d prepared. In the time Seungmin had worked with him, he could count on one hand the number of times Jeongin had joined Yongbok for cafeteria food.

Silently, Seungmin made his coffee and grabbed two packs of biscuits before approaching Jeongin. “Mind if I join you?”

Jeongin glanced up, cheeks puffed with rice, and nodded enthusiastically. “Not at all, hyung. Sit down.”

Sliding into the seat across from Jeongin, Seungmin unwrapped his biscuits. “What’s on your menu today?”

Jeongin beamed as he turned his lunchbox around to show Seungmin. “Grilled mackerel, steamed rice, and some stir-fried vegetables. I made the sauce myself!”

Seungmin hummed in approval. “That looks amazing. You’ve really got a talent for cooking, Jeongin. I think what you cook is better than what most restaurants serve.”

Jeongin’s grin widened, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Thanks, hyung! I enjoy it, you know? It’s cheaper, and I can make it exactly the way I like.”

As Seungmin chewed on a biscuit, Jeongin pointed at his plate. “But hyung, are you only having biscuits?”

Seungmin coughed lightly, already prepared for the question. “I had a big breakfast this morning. Figured I’d keep it light for lunch.”

Jeongin frowned a little but didn’t press further. “If you say so, hyung.”

They returned to their respective meals, falling into a comfortable rhythm of light conversation. Jeongin would offer tidbits about his cooking process, and Seungmin would nod along, occasionally asking a question or adding a comment.

Just as Seungmin was taking another bite of his biscuit, Jeongin’s voice cut through the air, soft and wistful. “I wish we could have lunch like this every day.”

Seungmin blinked in surprise. He looked up at Jeongin, who was focused entirely on his food. The younger man didn’t seem to notice the sudden attention.

“Did you say something?” Seungmin asked cautiously.

Jeongin blinked up at him, chewing a mouthful of grilled mackerel. “Huh? No, why?”

Seungmin frowned, confused. He could’ve sworn Jeongin had spoken just now. There was no mistaking the voice.

Shaking his head, Seungmin brushed it off and tried to focus on his biscuit. He bit into it again, and that’s when he heard Jeongin’s voice again, clear as day.

“I really like Seungmin-hyung. He’s so cool and composed, unlike the others. I’m so glad I joined this company. I would love to be with hyung every day.”

The fondness in Jeongin’s internal voice was undeniable.

Nope. No. Absolutely not.

This time, Seungmin froze completely, his eyes darting to Jeongin in alarm. The younger man was still eating, his expression perfectly neutral. No sign of him saying anything at all.

“What the hell,” Seungmin muttered under his breath.

His gaze darted down to check under the table, and there it was—Jeongin’s shoe was lightly touching his own.

Oh no.

Seungmin instantly pulled his feet back, and the thoughts vanished like a radio signal cutting off. It was happening again.

Before he could stop himself, he shot up from his seat, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. Jeongin looked up at him in confusion, a worried frown crossing his face.

“Hyung? You okay?”

“I just remembered something I need to do,” Seungmin stammered, trying to keep his composure. “I’ll head out first. See you later!”

He hastily threw away his empty coffee cup and biscuit wrappers, then practically bolted out of the pantry before Jeongin could say another word.

No way. Not Jeongin too.

Jeongin’s feelings didn’t seem as intense as the others—yet—but Seungmin couldn’t risk spending any more time with him. If he kept this up, it would only grow worse, and Seungmin was already teetering on the edge of a breakdown.

He stalked back to his desk, muttering under his breath. “Nope. Nope. Nope. I can’t handle this. Absolutely not.”

Jeongin? Sweet, innocent Jeongin? Crushes were supposed to be rare occurrences, but he had just experienced the fourth one for the day. Seungmin really wished he could drop dead right this instant.

Lunch had come and gone, and most employees were back at their desks, the office settling into its usual post-lunch calm. Seungmin slouched in his chair, head propped up on one hand as he stared blankly at his computer screen. He wasn’t exactly working—more like pretending to work while nursing the remnants of his morning headache.

Suddenly, the office buzzed with renewed energy. Yongbok, missing the entire morning due to a client meeting, had finally returned. He carried two large boxes of cupcakes in his hands and wore his signature bright smile, the kind that could cheer up the dreariest day.

“Hey, everyone!” Yongbok called out, his voice cutting through the quiet. “I brought cupcakes! The client’s office is near this really famous bakery, so I thought, why not grab some for the team?”

In an instant, employees gathered around him, thanking him profusely as he handed out the treats. Seungmin stayed put, not wanting to get caught in the fray. He could hear snippets of conversations from his desk.

“This is so good!” and “Yongbok, you’re the best!”

From across the room, Jisung’s voice rang out. “Hyung, hands off the red velvet! I called dibs!”

“You snooze, you lose, Jisung!” Changbin shot back, his tone snarky as if daring Jisung to fight back.

But their banter was interrupted by a triumphant laugh. “No one wants this? It’s mine, then~” Chan declared, swiping the last red velvet cupcake while the other two whined loudly behind him.

Yongbok, ever the multitasker, enlisted Hyunjin’s help in distributing cupcakes to the rest of the office while Jeongin and Minho held the boxes steady. Eventually, every employee had their treat.

“Thanks, Felix!” someone called out. “You’re the best, man!”

Yongbok waved off the thanks, laughing brightly. “Enjoy! Just make sure not to eat at your desks or Chan-hyung will get mad at me!”

Seungmin figured he was safe as long as he stayed where he was. But then, Yongbok turned and approached him with a smaller, single box in hand.

“Seungmin,” Yongbok called softly, his usual radiant grin spreading across his face.

Seungmin blinked, looking up to see Yongbok standing beside his desk. In his hands was a smaller box, tied neatly with a simple ribbon.

“I got this for you.”

Seungmin tilted his head, confused. “Me?”

Yongbok nodded, his smile softening into something more genuine. “I remembered you said you’re not a big fan of sweets, so I picked up this dark chocolate cupcake for you. It’s a little bitter—I thought you might like it better than the others.”

Seungmin stared at him, stunned. That conversation had happened months ago, in the middle of a casual chat while they waited for coffee in the break room. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but Yongbok remembered?

“Wow,” Seungmin murmured, his chest tightening with unexpected emotion. “That’s really thoughtful. Thanks, Yongbok.”

“Of course! Enjoy it, okay?” Yongbok said, extending the box toward him.

Seungmin reached out to take it, their fingers brushing briefly.

And then it hit him.

“Oh yeah, another point for me!” Yongbok’s voice rang loud and clear in Seungmin’s head. “Seungmin is definitely going to fall for me then ask me out eventually. Who else knows him like I do? No one, that’s who.”

Seungmin froze mid-movement, his eyes widening in disbelief. His grip on the box slackened for a moment before he caught it properly, staring at Yongbok as if he had just grown another head.

Oblivious to Seungmin’s internal meltdown, Yongbok flashed him another bright grin and turned to return to his desk.

Seungmin swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. Of all people, Yongbok? His cheerful, sunshine-like best friend who always brought life to the office? The same Yongbok who remembered the most inconsequential details about him, like his preference for bitter over sweet?

Seungmin’s gaze dropped to the cupcake box in his hands, the ribbon mocking him with its cheerful neatness. It was too much. First Hyunjin, then Jisung, then Changbin and Jeongin—and now Yongbok?

He bit his lip, trying to calm his fraying nerves, but his hands were trembling. How was he supposed to deal with this?

He set the box down on his desk and lowered his head onto his arms, groaning quietly into the crook of his elbow. He didn’t even have the energy to be touched by Yongbok’s thoughtfulness anymore. Instead, all he felt was an overwhelming urge to crawl under his desk and never come out.

The cupcake sat untouched beside him, an innocent but damning reminder of the chaos unfolding in his life.

By the end of the day, Seungmin felt like a zombie. He hadn’t accomplished a single thing at work, his mind too tangled in the chaos of the revelations he had learned about his coworkers. His headache was pounding, a constant reminder of the mental overload he was suffering from. He couldn’t even begin to process what had happened—five people, five coworkers, had developed feelings for him. And all he could do was curse himself for somehow getting tangled up in this mess.

What was he supposed to do with this information? With this newfound power? Who would believe him if he confessed that he could read minds and had accidentally stumbled into this awkward web of attraction? He wasn’t even sure he could believe it himself.

Lost in his thoughts, Seungmin didn’t notice Chan approaching him until he heard his voice.

“Seungmin?”

Seungmin startled, looking up to see Chan standing in front of him, concern written all over his face. The older man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, taking in Seungmin’s exhausted appearance.

Seungmin, still feeling a little off-balance, forced a smile and straightened up in his seat. “Chan-hyung. Going home?” he asked, his eyes glancing at the bag slung over Chan’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Chan nodded, but he didn’t immediately leave. He stayed standing there, the concerned look not leaving his face. “Are you okay? You don’t look too well.”

Seungmin cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to brush it off. “I’ve just been a little sleep-deprived. Exhaustion’s catching up with me, I guess,” he muttered, hoping it sounded convincing enough.

Chan didn’t seem entirely convinced, though. He leaned against Seungmin’s desk, giving him a sympathetic look. “I see. You should head home early then. Don’t overwork yourself, okay? Get some sleep. Let your mind rest. You’ve been working hard.”

Seungmin blinked, a little caught off guard by Chan’s unexpected concern. Before he could say anything else, Chan leaned forward, patting his back comfortingly.

The moment Chan’s hand made contact, Seungmin felt a rush of thoughts invade his mind.

“It hurts me to see him like this,” Chan thought, his voice sounding unusually soft and protective. “Is he having trouble with his work? I should check up on him tomorrow. I can’t stand seeing him so stressed out. I need my happy virus back.”

Seungmin froze, his eyes widening as the weight of Chan’s thoughts settled into his brain. His chest tightened. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

As soon as the pat on his back ended, Chan gave him a kind, reassuring smile. “Get some rest, Seungmin. Hope you feel better tomorrow.” He then turned to walk out, leaving Seungmin sitting there, stunned.

What the hell just happened?

Seungmin’s mind was racing, but not in the way it had been all day. His head was still foggy from the constant bombardment of thoughts, but this? This was a new level. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Part of him was genuinely touched by Chan’s concern. It was clear that Chan cared about him, wanted him to be okay. But the other part of him was utterly floored. Happy virus? He never considered himself the type of person to radiate happiness. In fact, he could count the number of genuinely happy moments he had in this office on one hand, but Chan thought of him like that?

A sigh escaped Seungmin’s lips. His brain was short-circuiting at this point. Now, he had to add Chan to the list. Of all people, Chan. Their hardworking, kind manager who was always looked up to by the team, had a crush on him.

It was all too much. He needed a break, something to clear his head.

Seungmin grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to collect his things, and made his way to the rooftop. He needed fresh air. The late afternoon air was cool, and the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky. He knew it was almost time for the sunset, and maybe—just maybe—the peace of the quiet rooftop could help clear his mind.

When he opened the door to the rooftop, his eyes immediately locked with Minho’s. Minho was sitting on one of the benches near the far corner, facing the setting sun. The warmth of the sunlight illuminated his face, casting a soft glow around him, but the moment Seungmin stepped out, Minho’s head snapped up in surprise.

Seungmin froze, an awkward wave of panic surging through him. He hadn’t expected anyone to be up here, let alone Minho. His first instinct was to turn around and leave, but Minho was quicker than he thought, holding his hand up to stop him.

“What are you doing? Just get in,” Minho said, voice casual but his brow furrowed in confusion.

Seungmin hesitated, staring at the door as if it might magically swing back open on its own. But there was nowhere to run. He let out a deep breath and stepped into the rooftop, closing the door softly behind him.

“Sorry,” Seungmin mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. The rooftop wasn’t large, but the silence between them felt heavy, even with the soft rustle of the flowers nearby and the distant hum of the city.

Minho looked at him for a moment, then sighed, gesturing to the empty space beside him on the bench. “Come here and sit with me.”

Seungmin was about to protest, but the weariness in his limbs made him slump forward toward the bench. With a small sigh, he dropped down beside Minho, carefully trying to keep his distance. He stared at the ground, too anxious to make eye contact. The sunset was nice, but his mind was far too cluttered to appreciate it.

Minho didn’t say anything for a few moments, just staring blankly at him. Seungmin couldn’t bring himself to speak either, unsure of how to break the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly calm either. Minho was always hard to read, his face often neutral or stoic, like it was hiding something. And right now, Seungmin was desperate to understand what was going on in Minho’s head, if anything at all.

Eventually, Minho’s voice cut through the quiet. “You look like someone pissed in your drink.”

Seungmin blinked, his mind still racing, but the sudden remark caught him off guard. For a split second, he stared at Minho before bursting out into a small, surprised chuckle. He sniffed, wiping his face with the back of his hand, a tired smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, I’d prefer that over what happened today,” he muttered under his breath.

Minho’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly catching the bitterness in Seungmin’s voice. He leaned back against the bench, crossing his arms and looking at him. “What is it that you have to go through that’s so bad you’d prefer piss as a drink?”

Seungmin hesitated, glancing sideways at Minho. His gaze softened, but there was still a guarded look in his eyes, like he was waiting for Seungmin to open up. The cool breeze seemed to carry away his breath before he could even speak.

Seungmin bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to even begin, or if he should. What would Minho think of him? He was sure no one would believe him, especially with something as ridiculous as this. But the weight of everything had been suffocating him all day. He needed to say something, anything to get it off his chest.

But then again… who would believe that he could hear people’s thoughts? How could he even begin to explain that to someone like Minho, who was known for being rational and reserved? Minho would probably think he was losing his mind.

Minho seemed to notice the hesitation, his eyes softening as he glanced at Seungmin. “You’ve got that look in your eyes like you’re about to explode. Whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m not going to judge you.” His tone was calm, matter-of-fact, the way he always spoke when he knew someone was struggling but wasn’t sure how to help.

Seungmin felt a lump form in his throat. He finally turned his head to face Minho, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could think twice.

Seungmin’s heart was racing as he sat beside Minho on the bench, his mind swirling with uncertainty. He had no idea how to explain what was happening to him, but he couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore. The tension was unbearable. He had to say it.

“What if I told you… I could hear people’s thoughts?” Seungmin blurted out, his voice almost a whisper.

Minho stared at him, clearly taken aback. His brows furrowed slightly, and Seungmin could almost feel him processing the words. He didn’t think Minho would believe him, and honestly, Seungmin wasn’t even sure he believed it himself. But he had to try.

“Like, you can… actually hear people’s thoughts?” Minho asked, his tone laced with skepticism, as though he was trying to figure out if Seungmin was joking or not.

Seungmin nodded, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Yeah. If I touch somebody, I could hear what they’re thinking. And today I accidentally found out that six of our coworkers have a crush on me.”

Minho’s expression remained unchanged. He tilted his head slightly, still processing everything. Seungmin felt like he was about to crumble under the weight of Minho’s silence. He hadn’t expected to be believed right away, but this felt different. Minho was just staring at him, his face unreadable.

Seungmin rubbed his temple, muttering under his breath. “I know, it sounds insane, but I swear—”

Minho raised a hand, cutting him off. “Okay, okay. If you’re really serious about this, prove it.”

Seungmin blinked in surprise. “What?”

Minho leaned in a little closer, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Seungmin, almost daring him to back down. “Prove it. I’ll think of something, and you try to read my mind.”

Seungmin hesitated, unsure how to even begin. But Minho didn’t give him time to second-guess. “Come on, do it. If you really can do this, let’s see.”

Taking a deep breath, Seungmin glanced into Minho’s eyes, trying to focus. He reached out hesitantly, and after a brief moment of tension, he placed his hand gently in Minho’s. Minho didn’t pull away, and Seungmin felt the warmth of his hand, still unsure of what was about to happen.

Minho’s eyes didn’t break contact as he thought of something. Seungmin closed his eyes and concentrated, waiting for the voice in his head to speak.

The thought came to him clear as day. Seungmin blinked in disbelief as the words echoed in his mind. Without missing a beat, he spoke up, “You’re thinking ‘I hope he can really hear this, or this will be so awkward’.”

Minho froze, his eyes wide. The moment the words left Seungmin’s lips, Minho’s jaw dropped, and he quickly pulled his hand back, staring at Seungmin in utter shock.

“H-Holy shit,” Minho stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can read minds!”

Seungmin let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping in frustration. “That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

Minho was still processing what had just happened. His eyes darted around as if searching for an explanation. “No way. You’re not messing with me right now, right?”

“I’m not messing with you,” Seungmin said, his voice a little sharper now. He crossed his arms, clearly irritated by the skepticism. “Do you really think I’d joke about something like this?”

Minho’s face shifted from disbelief to concern. “Alright, alright. I believe you. But… how did this even happen? How did you get this power?”

Seungmin paused for a moment, rubbing his temples as if the memory itself hurt. He hadn’t told anyone the full story yet. But Minho was the first person he felt like he could trust with this.

“Okay,” Seungmin began slowly, “so there was this old lady. She, uh… gave me this weird glittery pink liquid in a bottle. Told me it was some kind of good luck charm and all I had to do was drink it. So I did, and then… when I woke up this morning, I could hear people’s thoughts.”

Minho stared at him, blinking a few times in disbelief. “You drank something from a stranger? Seriously?”

Seungmin whined. “I didn’t know what it was! She gave it to me, and I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t really have a choice. It, like, called to me, okay?”

Minho let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re really telling me you took something from a stranger and drank it? Without thinking about the consequences?”

Seungmin shifted uncomfortably. “I know it sounds stupid, but—”

Minho cut him off, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, it doesn’t just sound stupid, it is stupid. You can’t just trust random people like that! What if it had been something dangerous?”

Seungmin winced at Minho’s scolding, feeling a little guilty. “Okay, okay. I get it. I shouldn’t have done it. I promise it wouldn’t happen again.”

Minho ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Alright, fine. Whatever. But now what? What are you going to do with this ability?”

Seungmin sighed deeply. He had been thinking about that all day. The truth was, he didn’t have a clear plan. He had no idea how to handle this or what to do next.

He stared blankly ahead, the sinking feeling returning to his chest. “I… I don’t know. I can’t just go around reading people’s thoughts. It’s too much. I just wish I could forget about all of this. Maybe I should leave, go somewhere far away and pretend none of this ever happened.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, leaning forward as he studied Seungmin. “You’re seriously thinking about running away?”

Seungmin hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but how do I live like this? Knowing what everyone is thinking? I don’t even know if I can trust myself anymore.”

Minho paused, his eyes softening as he looked at Seungmin. “Well, I don’t know if running away is the answer, but you can’t keep all of this inside. Whatever you decide, I’m here for you, okay?”

Seungmin nodded slowly, a faint sense of relief washing over him. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely alone in this.

The two of them stood side by side, their gaze fixed on the fading colors of the sunset. The sky was a blend of oranges, pinks, and purples, casting a warm glow over everything. The air had grown colder, and Seungmin could feel a shiver run down his spine, but the silence between him and Minho felt oddly comforting now. The whirlwind of revelations earlier in the evening had calmed, and they simply took in the moment together, the tension in Seungmin’s chest easing for the first time all day.

When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Seungmin took a breath, his thoughts still racing, but more contained now. It wasn’t a solution, but at least he had someone to talk to. Minho might be a bit unorthodox in his approach, but at least he was there.

Minho broke the silence first as they turned to head for the door. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets to ward off the biting cold. “Why did you choose to tell me about this anyway?” His voice was casual, as if the gravity of what Seungmin had shared didn’t bother him as much as it should.

Seungmin shrugged, not really having a clear answer. “I just figured that since you don’t like me that much, you could give good advice without thinking too much of how I feel.” His words came out a little sharp, but he immediately softened his tone, knowing Minho was the last person to take offense easily. “You’re pretty detached, I guess. You wouldn’t sugarcoat anything.”

Minho gave a small, thoughtful nod, clearly not offended by the remark. “Fair enough,” he said with a dry smile.

Seungmin hesitated, then added under his breath, “And none of our coworkers would believe you if you say anything since you lie so much.”

Minho’s eyes glinted with amusement. He was walking a little ahead now, still giving Seungmin a sideways look. “Good call,” he said, nodding proudly, not the least bit offended. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the fact that Seungmin trusted him with something this huge.

They entered the elevator, the doors closing behind them with a soft ding. Seungmin leaned against the wall, the small space making him feel strangely confined. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm up as the elevator slowly descended to their level.

Minho hummed, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. Then he turned to Seungmin with a raised eyebrow. “So, six of our coworkers like you, huh?” His tone was teasing, but there was also a hint of something else.

Seungmin scrunched his nose, clearly still not believing it himself. “I can’t believe it either,” he muttered. It was all so overwhelming. How could anyone possibly have a crush on him?

Minho’s gaze sharpened as he asked, “Is it okay if I ask who?”

Seungmin hesitated, weighing his options. Minho already knew a lot, so what was the harm in just telling him? After all, Minho seemed to be the only one who actually listened.

He sighed, then relented. “Okay, fine. It’s Jisung, Hyunjin, Changbin, Jeongin, Yongbok… and… Chan.”

As Seungmin listed the names, Minho’s face morphed through several expressions. He made a face after each name, clearly processing each one. When Seungmin said Jeongin’s name, Minho’s expression shifted noticeably. “That damned brat,” he muttered under his breath, making Seungmin blink in surprise.

Seungmin frowned, but didn’t comment on it. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, alright?” he warned, his voice a little more serious now.

“Definitely not,” Minho replied with a grin, though his voice dripped with mock sincerity. “I wouldn’t say a word.”

Seungmin wasn’t sure if he believed him. There was something in Minho’s tone, something too playful about it. But what could he do now? The information had already been shared.

The elevator doors slid open as they reached their floor, and they stepped out, walking side by side toward the office. Seungmin had just started to move toward his desk when Minho grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

Seungmin turned, startled, but before he could say anything, Minho’s thought hit him like a wave.

“Now that I know who my competitors are, I could defeat them one by one.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened in shock as Minho’s mischievous smirk grew, the intent behind the words suddenly becoming clear.

Minho let go of Seungmin’s wrist, his expression shifting to one of playful confidence. He gave Seungmin a wink before striding off toward his desk, humming to himself.

Seungmin stood frozen in place, his brain processing Minho’s words.

He blinked, trying to make sense of it. The teasing, the ordering him around, the way Minho had always been just a little too intense. Could it really have been flirting this whole time?

But why? Seungmin thought, his chest tightening. Why didn’t he notice it before?

Then, it clicked. He remembered Jeongin’s strange comment yesterday, the one about pulling a crush’s pigtails. That had to mean Jeongin knew that Minho has a crush on him.

“Minho-hyung, are you serious right now?!” he called out, his voice rising in disbelief.

From behind his desk, Minho’s loud cackle echoed through the office.