5

The office was nearly empty, most of the employees already gone for the day. Outside the tall windows, the city buzzed under a deepening sky, golden lights flickering against steel and glass. Inside, the air was still — too still.

Minho sat at his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up, staring blankly at his monitor. Numbers, presentations, projections — none of it was sinking in. His temples ached.

The door creaked open softly.

“You’re still working?” Jisung’s voice was casual, but his steps purposeful. He didn’t wait for an answer before locking the door behind him with a soft click.

Minho didn’t turn around. “You should go home.”

Jisung came closer, perching on the edge of the desk, deliberately blocking his view of the screen. “You look like you need a break.”

Minho finally looked up — eyes heavy, jaw clenched. That unreadable look he always wore when he was holding too much back.

Jisung leaned in slightly. “Or maybe just... a little help relaxing.”

Minho’s gaze dropped to Jisung’s mouth — just for a second — before he sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. “You’re playing with fire.”

“You like it when I do,” Jisung whispered, sliding off the desk and kneeling between Minho’s legs, fingers already working at his belt.

Minho didn't stop him. He never did.

Jisung’s hands were skilled, practiced. Slow, at first — teasing. He looked up through his lashes, waiting for that familiar flicker of tension in Minho’s expression. That tight breath. That twitch of fingers against the armrest.

And there it was.

He took him in slowly, wet heat wrapping around him, tongue deliberate and merciless. Minho's head tipped back against the chair, a low grunt escaping his throat.

“Fuck, Jisung…”

The name left his mouth like a warning. But Jisung only hummed around him, eyes locked on Minho’s face, loving how fast that cold, guarded exterior shattered under his touch. Under his mouth.

Minho’s hand moved to his hair, gripping tight, guiding him. His hips lifted slightly, subtle but desperate, chasing more friction. More of that warm, wicked mouth.

Papers shifted on the desk behind him, forgotten. The only sounds in the office were heavy breathing, the wet rhythm of Jisung’s mouth, and the occasional quiet moan Minho couldn’t hold back anymore.

He was close — Jisung could feel it. Minho always got rougher when he was close, fingers tightening, breath hitching.

“Jisung—” The warning came again, strained this time.

But Jisung didn’t pull back.

Minho came with a low, guttural curse, trembling under the weight of it, his head dropping forward as he panted, still gripping Jisung’s hair like a lifeline.

Silence stretched in the aftermath. Jisung pulled back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

Minho looked down at him, expression unreadable again — except for the faint flush on his cheeks and the way his chest still rose and fell too fast.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“And yet, you keep calling me in,” Jisung smirked, standing up and straightening his shirt. “Need me to stay and organize your desk?”

Minho didn’t answer. But as Jisung turned to unlock the door, he spoke again — voice low.

“Come by the penthouse tonight.”

Jisung froze for a second. Then smiled.

“As you wish, boss.”

-----

[Time Skip][After a Few Days]

The Hwang estate was unusually quiet for a weekday morning. Sunlight spilled through the massive front windows, and the warm scent of jasmine tea lingered faintly in the air. Felix stood near the entrance, arms crossed, pacing back and forth on the marble floor with a frown etched into his soft features.

He checked his phone.Again.Still nothing.

“Where is he…” he mumbled, glancing toward the driveway through the glass. No car. No driver.

He sighed and resumed pacing.

The sound of shoes on stairs made him look up.

Hyunjin descended casually, dressed in a tailored black button-down tucked into slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, watch on his wrist. Hair slightly tousled, but in that way that still looked like it belonged on a Vogue cover.

His brows furrowed when he spotted Felix.

“You waiting for someone?”

Felix looked up. A little caught off guard. “Uh… yeah. The driver.”

Hyunjin tilted his head.

“I was supposed to visit home for a few hours. I told him to be ready at 10, but I think he took Mom and Grandma somewhere.”

There was a pause.

Felix looked slightly disappointed, shoulders dropping as he checked his phone one more time.

Hyunjin stared for a moment, then casually dug into his pocket, pulling out his keys and spinning them once around his finger.

“I’ll take you.”

Felix blinked. “Wait, really?”

Hyunjin nodded. “I have to head to the office anyway. Your place is on the way.”

For a second, Felix looked stunned.

Then a soft, almost childlike smile tugged at his lips. “Seriously?”

Hyunjin chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he pushed open the front door.

“Come on before I change my mind.”

Felix grabbed his phone and followed, his steps light.

---

Outside, the sun warmed the stone driveway as Hyunjin unlocked the car—a sleek, black coupe that gleamed under the morning light. He slid into the driver’s seat like he was born there, and Felix slipped into the passenger side, still smiling to himself.

As they pulled out of the estate, the silence wasn’t awkward for once.

It was… calm.

Easy.

And somewhere between Felix adjusting the radio to something softer and Hyunjin not telling him to stop—it started to feel like maybe they weren’t pretending to tolerate each other anymore.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

--------

The sleek black car rolled to a slow stop in front of the modest but elegant Lee family house. It wasn’t extravagant like the Hwang estate, but it had charm—white-painted bricks, flowering plants hanging from the porch, and the faint smell of freshly baked bread drifting through the open kitchen window.

Felix quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and glanced at Hyunjin.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said softly, one foot already out the door.

Hyunjin gave a silent nod, glancing at the time on his watch. 10:04 AM. He had that important meeting at 12, and traffic back to the city could be a pain. He shifted gears to reverse.

But just as his hand moved to the wheel, Felix poked his head back inside.

“Hey,” he said, a little hesitant. “You wanna come in for coffee?”

Hyunjin paused. “No. I’ve got work.”

Felix smiled softly. “It’ll only take ten minutes.”

“I don’t have ten minutes.”

Felix tilted his head, puppy eyes in full effect. “Please? It’s just coffee. And you already look like you haven’t had any.”

Hyunjin stared at him.

Deadpan. Silent.

But his hand slowly slipped off the gearshift.

He sighed, muttering, “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

Felix beamed. “I try.”

---

The inside of the Lee house felt… warm. The floor was wooden, the air filled with hints of cinnamon and vanilla. A family photo of Felix as a child hung near the stairs, along with old school awards and a calendar covered in scribbled notes.

Hyunjin stood stiffly near the entrance, hands still in his pockets, unsure whether to sit or leave.

“You can relax, you know,” Felix chuckled as he headed toward the kitchen. “You’ve been here before. My mom loves you more than she loves me.”

“That’s not hard,” Hyunjin muttered.

Felix laughed as he started prepping the coffee machine. “How do you like it again? Black, no sugar, no soul?”

“Yes.”

“Figured.”

---

Just as Felix poured the coffee into two mismatched mugs, footsteps echoed softly from the hallway.

“Felix?” came a warm, familiar voice. “Is that—Hyunjin?”

Mrs. Lee stepped into view, wiping her hands on a towel, her apron dusted in flour. She lit up instantly when she saw him.

“Hyunjin-ah! What a surprise.”

Hyunjin bowed slightly, polite. “Good morning, Mrs. Lee.”

“Oh, don’t be so formal!” she waved her hand, stepping forward to give his arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ve told you to call me Mom.”

Felix, walking back over with the coffee, grinned. “Told you.”

Hyunjin only offered a small, closed-lip smile as he took the mug Felix handed him.

“You didn’t tell me he was coming,” Mrs. Lee scolded her son playfully.

“It wasn’t planned,” Felix said. “Driver was out, so he brought me.”

Her eyes sparkled. “So responsible, this one. You’re lucky to have such a dependable brother-in-law.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. A real angel.”

Hyunjin gave him a look over the rim of his mug but didn’t say anything.

“Are you staying for lunch?” Mrs. Lee asked brightly.

“I’ve got a meeting at noon,” Hyunjin replied quickly.

She sighed. “Always busy. That’s why you look so tired lately, sweetheart.”

Felix nearly choked on his coffee.

Hyunjin blinked, clearly caught off guard, but managed a polite nod. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

“Well, at least finish your coffee before you leave,” she said, smiling before heading back toward the kitchen. “Felix, make sure he eats something too!”

When she was gone, Felix sat at the table, smirking behind his mug.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say anything.”

Felix grinned. “Didn’t have to. Your face already said it for you.”

Hyunjin leaned back with a sigh, sipping his coffee.

“Next time I’m leaving you at the gate.”

But the corners of his lips tugged upward just slightly—

Like he didn’t mind at all.

-------

The meeting room was flooded with soft daylight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the table covered in swatches, draft sheets, and concept boards. Bora stood at the end of the table, flipping through a sketchbook while Hyunjin sat silently on the other side, one hand propped under his chin, the other lazily twirling a pen.

He looked... distracted.

Not bored. Just somewhere else.

Bora didn’t press.

“This concept has potential,” she finally said, glancing up at him. “But the color story for the evening wear line still feels cold. Too... detached.”

Hyunjin raised a brow slightly. “Cold works for me.”

She gave him a look. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. Still—I'll mock up a warmer palette and send over revisions tomorrow.”

He gave a nod, subtle and unbothered. “Sounds fine.”

Just then, a knock came on the glass partition.

His secretary peeked in.

“Mr. Hwang, there’s someone waiting in your office. He said he doesn’t have an appointment, but—he insisted.”

Hyunjin’s brows pulled together slightly. “I didn’t schedule any meetings today.”

The secretary nodded nervously. “I know, sir. But he said he’s… an old friend.”

Hyunjin’s frown deepened.

Bora raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I’ll go,” she said, packing her tablet. “Text me if you want to review anything else today.”

He nodded, already distracted.

Once Bora stepped out, Hyunjin straightened his sleeves and left the design floor, heading toward his personal office.

---

The door was slightly ajar.

He pushed it open slowly, expecting some client or old business contact…

But the moment he stepped in—He froze.

There, lounging casually on the leather couch like no time had passed, was Bang Chan.Hair lighter. Smile still boyish. Wearing jeans and a hoodie like he belonged in a campus café, not a corporate building.

Hyunjin’s mouth parted in disbelief.

“...No way.”

Chan stood up, grin wide. “Long time no see, CEO-nim.”

Hyunjin didn’t even hesitate. He crossed the room in seconds and pulled him into a tight hug.

“You bastard—” Hyunjin exhaled, his voice half a laugh, half a tremble. “You didn’t even call—seven years, and you just show up?”

Chan clapped him on the back. “Thought I’d make a better impression if I came in person.”

Hyunjin pulled back just enough to look at him.

“You haven’t changed.”

Chan smirked. “You have.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Yeah. Life does that.”

They stood in silence for a second, the kind that only exists between people who used to share everything.

And then Hyunjin gestured to the couch. “Sit. You’re not leaving until you explain everything.”

Chan dropped into the seat, arms spread like he was home again.

“Glad to know you missed me.”

Hyunjin sat across from him, that rare, real smile still lingering on his face.

“More than you know.”

------

They talked for over half an hour—easy conversation, like the years apart had melted into dust. Hyunjin leaned back against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, as Chan sipped from the coffee he stole off Hyunjin’s own tray like it was his.

“So Australia,” Hyunjin muttered. “You really stayed there the whole time?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah. Was supposed to be two years, became seven. I ended up co-founding a studio with a friend there. Music production.”

Hyunjin tilted his head. “So you ditched us all for sound mixing and beach sunsets.”

Chan smirked. “You ditched me for overpriced suits and runway models.”

“Touché.”

They laughed quietly, the sound warm and real.

Then, somewhere in the lull between catching up and comfortable silence, Hyunjin spoke again—almost casually.

“Minho’s getting married.”

Chan blinked. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Engaged for a year. Wedding’s next month.”

“To who?”

“Lee Felix.”

Chan sat up straighter, eyebrows raised. “Who the hell is Lee Felix?”

“Son of a tech company co-owner. Quiet. Tries too hard to be perfect. Kind of...” Hyunjin waved his hand vaguely, “...too sweet for Minho.”

Chan frowned, still trying to process. “Minho? Marriage? That Minho?”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Yeah, that Minho. The same guy who once said relationships make him break out in hives.”

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Something’s fishy. Arranged?”

“Obviously,” Hyunjin muttered. “You think he’d willingly say yes to anyone?”

Chan leaned forward. “Now I really need to meet this poor soul.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I need to see who agreed to marry Minho and lived to tell the tale.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly.

Chan wasn’t done. “No, seriously. Set it up. Invite me over. Let me meet him.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, thinking for a moment.

Then, that slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his face.

“Dinner. Tonight.”

Chan blinked. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” Hyunjin pulled out his phone. “My mother’s going to be thrilled.”

“Does Felix know he’s being used as part of a surprise meet-and-greet?”

Hyunjin shrugged, already typing. “He doesn’t need to know.”

Chan laughed, shaking his head. “God, I missed this evil version of you.”

Hyunjin smiled slightly, a little more to himself this time.

“He’s… interesting, you’ll see.”

------

The dining room glowed softly under the chandelier’s golden lights, casting a warm sheen over the long, polished table. Plates clinked quietly, steam curled from silver pots, and Felix moved between chairs with a folded napkin in one hand and a place card in the other.

“Here?” he asked softly.

Ms. Hwang nodded from across the table, her voice warm. “Perfect, Felix-ah. You’re getting better at this.”

He smiled, adjusting the cutlery. Two maids passed by behind him, setting dishes down with practiced grace. Mr. Hwang was already seated at the head of the table, glasses on as he scrolled through his phone. Grandma sat beside him, talking gently to Minho, who nodded along with whatever story she was telling, his tone relaxed.

But Hyunjin’s chair—next to Felix’s—remained empty.

Felix glanced at the clock again.

8:11 p.m.

He shouldn’t be worried. He really, really shouldn’t.But Hyunjin never missed family dinners.

Especially not two in a row.

“Is Hyunjin coming?” he asked Ms. Hwang, trying to sound casual.

She smiled as she helped a maid position the soup bowl. “He should be. He didn’t say otherwise.”

Felix nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, and moved to take his seat beside Minho.

---

Just as everyone had settled in, the main door opened.

All heads turned.

Footsteps echoed—confident, deliberate—and then, Hyunjin appeared in the doorway.

But he wasn’t alone.

Beside him stood a man with sandy blond hair, slightly sun-kissed skin, and the kind of smile that immediately made everyone feel like they already knew him.A stranger—but not a stranger, at least not to Hyunjin.

“Everyone,” Hyunjin said with casual ease, “this is Bang Chan.”

There was a beat of surprise.

Then—

“Oh my goodness!” Ms. Hwang gasped, her hand going to her chest. “Chan? From when you two were younger?”

Mr. Hwang looked up from his phone, brows raised. “The Australian kid?”

Chan laughed. “Still Australian, sir. But yes. That one.”

Grandma clapped softly. “I thought you disappeared forever!”

“I tried,” Chan teased, grinning, “but this guy kept haunting me.” He nudged Hyunjin lightly.

Introductions began. He greeted Mr. Hwang with a bow, took Grandma’s hand respectfully, gave Ms. Hwang the warmest hug she wasn’t expecting. Even Minho—surprised but not cold—stood up to shake his hand.

Then, finally, his gaze shifted to the only unfamiliar face at the table.

Felix.

Chan took a small step forward. “And you must be…?”

Felix stood too quickly, knocking the edge of his chair with his knee. “Ah—I’m Felix.”

Chan offered his hand, eyes kind but curious. “Bang Chan.”

They shook, and Felix blinked at how firm—but warm—the man’s grip was.

“I’m Minho’s fiancé,” he added, a bit awkwardly.

Chan tilted his head. “So you’re the famous Felix. I’ve heard a lot.”

Felix blinked. “You… have?”

“Not enough,” Chan said, smile widening just slightly.

Hyunjin walked past them, completely ignoring the lingering moment, and slid into the seat beside Felix like it was routine.

“Sit,” he said, nudging Felix’s chair with his foot. “The food’s getting cold.”

Felix sat quickly, slightly flustered, while Chan took the seat across from them—right beside Ms. Hwang.

The dinner resumed, light chatter returning to the table. Everyone seemed in high spirits, even Minho. The parents laughed at Chan’s stories about Australia, and Grandma kept calling him “the second lost grandson.”

But Felix?

Felix just picked at his food, fully aware of the way Hyunjin’s knee kept brushing his under the table.And every time he looked up, Chan was watching him.

Not in a bad way.

Just in a curious way.

-------

The basement was a completely different world from the pristine elegance of the Hwang estate above. Neon lights lined the shelves of the bar, the soft hum of arcade machines filled the background, and music played low from an old speaker someone had connected ages ago and never bothered replacing.

Minho leaned against the bar, drink in hand, looking unusually relaxed in his plain hoodie. Chan sat on a stool beside him, sipping casually, eyes scanning everything—from the drinks to the body language around the room.

Hyunjin was perched on the leather couch in the lounge area, long legs crossed, a half-empty glass of wine between his fingers.

And Felix?

Felix was giggling.

On the floor.

Sitting cross-legged at Hyunjin’s feet, his cheek pressed against Hyunjin’s knee like it was the world’s comfiest pillow.

“I swear…” Felix slurred softly, pointing upward, “I saw a cat in your studio once. It was staring at me like this.” He made a weird scrunched-up expression, eyes wide.

Hyunjin looked down at him, barely hiding a smirk. “That was probably me.”

Felix blinked up at him. “Oh. Right. That makes sense.”

Hyunjin took another slow sip of wine, lips quirking. “You’re clingier when you’re drunk.”

Felix just hummed in response and draped his arm across Hyunjin’s shin.

Chan glanced over from the bar. “Did I miss a memo? Since when are future brothers-in-law this cozy?”

Minho choked slightly on his drink.

Felix turned around dramatically, still on the floor, and pointed at Chan. “Hyunjin’s warm.”

“That’s concerning.”

“No!” Felix flopped onto his back now, head resting by Hyunjin’s foot, staring at the ceiling. “You know when someone looks cold but they’re actually not? That’s him. He pretends to hate everyone but he’s not scary at all. He's like a sad cat in a rich man’s coat.”

Chan barked a laugh. “A sad cat?”

Hyunjin looked vaguely amused. “I’m not sure if I should feel flattered or offended.”

Felix raised his hand from the floor like he was trying to wave off a thought. “No offense. You’re like... like…”

“Be careful,” Hyunjin warned, tapping his glass.

“Like if an abandoned mansion had a heart.”

Silence.

Minho blinked.

Chan wheezed. “What does that even mean?”

Felix rolled over and tried to sit up, failing a little. Hyunjin reached down with one hand and lazily tugged him up by the back of his hoodie, letting him plop onto the couch beside him like a ragdoll.

“Thanks,” Felix whispered, slouching into Hyunjin’s side.

Hyunjin didn’t move away.

Didn’t tell him to get off.

Didn’t even look phased.

Just reached forward to refill his wine.

Chan watched the whole thing with an expression that said he was collecting mental screenshots and filing them for later.Minho just downed the rest of his whiskey and didn’t say a word.

Felix yawned, blinking sleepily up at the ceiling from where he lay halfway melted into Hyunjin’s side on the couch. His fingers lazily tugged at the hem of Hyunjin’s sleeve.

“I wanna go to my room,” he mumbled, voice soft and blurred by wine.

Minho, ever the dutiful fiancé, stood up from the bar stool. “I’ll take you—”

But before he could even reach the coffee table, Hyunjin was already moving.

With practiced ease, he set his glass down, leaned forward, and took Felix gently by the arm.

“Come on, trouble,” he murmured, voice low. “Let’s get you up.”

Felix blinked at him, then at Minho—then giggled softly as he let Hyunjin pull him to his feet.

Chan’s brows lifted. Subtle. Smooth.

Minho stood frozen for a second, his hands still slightly raised like he’d expected to be needed.

He lowered them slowly.

Felix leaned into Hyunjin, one hand gripping his bicep while his legs tried to remember how walking worked. “You smell nice,” he muttered, and Hyunjin made a quiet noise that might’ve been a laugh—or a scoff.

“Of course I do.”

They made their way to the stairs, Felix stumbling once, but Hyunjin steadied him without missing a step. His grip was firm, protective in a way that didn’t draw attention—yet it did.

Because Chan and Minho were watching every second of it.

Chan took a long sip of his drink and leaned toward Minho, voice low. “Is this, like, normal?”

Minho’s jaw tightened. “He’s drunk.”

Chan hummed. “So was Hyunjin. Funny how they are gravitate toward each other.”

Minho said nothing.

Back near the stairs, Felix mumbled something unintelligible, and Hyunjin snorted under his breath. “You’re gonna regret every word tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t,” Felix said, dragging his feet, eyes barely open. “You’re warm, like I said. Sad-cat-warm.”

“Unbelievable,” Hyunjin muttered, shaking his head as they disappeared down the hall.

Chan let out a low whistle. “Wow.”

Minho finally exhaled. “It’s nothing.”

Chan just smiled, not buying it for a second.

------The hallway was dim, quiet—the kind of silence that only arrived after the world had gone to sleep.Hyunjin walked slowly, one arm loosely around Felix’s waist, steadying him as they moved. Felix leaned against him, warm and heavy with wine, mumbling something under his breath every few steps.

When they reached Felix’s room, Hyunjin pushed the door open with his free hand and helped him inside.

Felix wobbled slightly as he kicked off his shoes.

“You really shouldn’t drink that much,” Hyunjin muttered, guiding him toward the bed.

Felix flopped down without grace, landing on his back with a little sigh. “But it makes things quiet.”

Hyunjin paused, gaze flicking to him. “What does?”

Felix looked up, smile soft but sad. “The noise in my head.”

For a moment, Hyunjin just stood there, staring down at him. The moonlight spilled in through the curtains, hitting half of Felix’s face, making him look almost unreal.

He leaned over, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up slowly, covering Felix’s legs.

“Sleep,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You’ll hate yourself tomorrow.”

But just as he started to pull away, Felix reached up—hand curling around Hyunjin’s wrist.

“Wait.”

Hyunjin stilled.

Felix was looking at him, something unfocused but serious in his eyes. “You don’t hate me, right?”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “You’re drunk.”

“That’s not a no.”

Hyunjin let out a breath—quiet, sharp. His voice dropped. “Go to sleep, Felix.”

But Felix didn’t let go. “You don’t hate me,” he said again, more certain this time. “I don’t care what you pretend like. I know you don’t.”

There was a silence. Thick. Slow.

Then Hyunjin leaned in—just slightly, enough to be dangerous.

“Don’t do this,” he warned softly.

“I’m not doing anything,” Felix whispered. “You’re the one who’s close.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched. But he didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Instead, he stared into Felix’s eyes for one long second—like trying to read something written in a language only they spoke.

Then he leaned in.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed.It wasn’t messy.It was soft. Controlled. Warm.

Felix’s breath caught in his throat, hand still curled around Hyunjin’s wrist. His fingers tightened, pulling just slightly, keeping him close.

Hyunjin lingered there, lips barely moving, just enough pressure to feel real. Too real.

Then he pulled back.

Felix blinked up at him, lips parted, stunned silent.

Hyunjin stood. Composed. Like it hadn’t just happened. But there was something in his eyes—something almost shaken.

“I’m not the good guy in this story, Felix,” he said quietly. “Don’t forget that.”

Then he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

And Felix lay there in the silence, fingers ghosting over his lips like maybe—just maybe—it was still there.

-----