Chapter Text
Subject: November Gapyeong Retreat
Everyone,
This is a reminder for the team-building retreat at the end of this month! We would like to stress that attendance is mandatory, except in case of any unavoidable circumstances - in which case, please reach out to your Team Lead in advance.
All meals will be handled by the organisers, as mentioned earlier. Please let your Team Lead know about any food allergies or preferences at the earliest so we can accommodate them for you!
This time, in the spirit of team-building, we’re bringing back assigned roomies! (Exciting prospect, we know.) Please note no change requests will be taken into consideration; consider it an opportunity to bond with your teammates!
We hope to see you bright and early on the 28th!
(We’re serious. Don’t be late. This is for you, Taehyun.)
Best,
Huening Kai
HR
Kai closes his eyes and counts to five before the door to his office slams open.
“Name one time I showed up late,” Taehyun fumes, slamming his phone face up on his desk. Sure enough, there it is: the glaring email with the Gapyeong subject line. The table quakes with the force of it, and it takes everything in Kai to hide that he might be shaking, too. With practiced ease, he swallows the tremor and looks up. If he squints, he can probably trace the line of steam pouring out of his ears.
Nearly as red as his strawberry-coloured tie, Taehyun glares down at him.
“Let’s see,” Kai says dully, pulling up the entry timing records for the last few months. Sure enough, the most frequent offender is Taehyun, and he angles the monitor towards him. “Once this week, twice last week,” he counts off, curling a finger with each one. “Do you want last month’s, too?”
Taehyun snatches his phone back with a huff. His lips purse into what is undoubtedly a pout. Is that really what he’s resorting to now?
“Has no one ever taught you to write a proper email? Roomies?” Taehyun leans down and mutters. “The higher-ups can’t possibly be okay with this.”
“This one is just in-branch,” Kai shrugs. He points beyond his doorway, where all the other teams are spread out. “It goes to maybe… fifteen people? The only higher up that gets this is Soobin. And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t checked his inbox in three years.”
Higher-up itself is an exaggeration by a large margin. Technically, he’s their manager. According to dated office records that will probably perform better as firewood, Choi Soobin handles all executive decisions for the Seoul branch. Kai wonders if headquarters knows he makes one such decision per month, at best.
Taehyun opens his mouth, but he swallows back what Kai is sure are some very choice insults. "I’m going to talk to Soobin about this," he says pointedly. “There’s no way the HR team gets to do whatever they want to.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Kang,” Kai leans forward on his desk, resting his chin on his raised palms. Taehyun’s lips curl inward, and a straight, stiff line glares back at him with scathing intensity. Kai hides the shiver it sends down his spine with a wide, disarming grin; all pearly teeth and practiced charm. “If you look around, you’ll see that the HR team is just me. We can, in fact, do whatever we want to.”
Dainty palms curl into menacing fists at Taehyun’s sides. “I’m still emailing Soobin about this.”
Kai holds his hands up in surrender, and he imagines a little white flag billowing over his head. “All yours.” When Taehyun marches around and storms out, Kai calls after him. “Just don’t be late again, Taehyun!”
Aside from being the world's most perfect one-man HR team, Kai’s greatest achievement in the corporate sphere is this: knowing patterns like the back of his hand, predicting the face that’s going to lean into his office at precisely 9:15 every Monday morning, and the exact question that face will ask.
The only thing that contradicts that pattern is Soobin’s hair that’s swept back neatly today. “Kai-ya, what’s the password to my email?”
Kai closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t answer, because he knows what Soobin will say next, too. Soobin runs a hand through his hair, pushing the strand that’s fallen loose back into its place. “Never mind, just check the inbox for me, okay? If HQ says anything, uh, let me know, yeah?”
“You got it,” Kai holds a thumb up in fake cheer, but Soobin doesn’t catch the sarcasm. Of course he doesn’t. He nods in that smug, professional way of his, before telling Kai to have a good day.
Kai doesn’t grace him with a reply. Soobin doesn’t need one, though. He saunters off to his window-walled corner office without a care. Kai makes quick work of logging in and scrolling past all the fliers and holiday offers. No news from HQ, fortunately for him; one less trip to the office he’s grown to despise less for its infrastructure and more for its insufferable inhabitant.
Right at the top, Taehyun’s email is ready and waiting to be opened.
Subject: Tactless E-Mail from HR
Kai can’t keep the mirth off his face as he skims through the email. Taehyun’s vocabulary has always been impressive, but his angry emails magnify it to the point where Kai even contemplates looking up some of the words. With a chuckle, he takes a quick photo of it before he clicks out.
✉︎✉︎✉︎
Beomgyu was always blessed with several assets, and he’s never been shy about admitting to any of them. The asset in particular that comes in handy in these situations, though, is his perceptivity. Or maybe it’s his colour recognition skill, because he could swear the shirt Kai has on is familiar.
Across from him in the break room, Kai’s rummaging through the closet. The longer Beomgyu thinks, the more it nags at him, because he’s definitely seen this shirt. It’s not something Kai’s worn before, which was what made him catch it in the first place, but it’s so familiar it’s almost bothersome.
“Good morning,” Kai calls suddenly, jolting Beomgyu who nearly drops the takeout coffee he’s holding. He breaks his intent gaze to steady his grip on the cup. “Is there something on my back?”
“On your back?” Beomgyu tilts his head. “...no?”
“So you’re staring because you like what you see,” Kai nods. "Sure, I get it."
The response is so unbelievable that even Beomgyu, who has a response for everything, is speechless. He shakes his head in an effort to shake off some of the shock, and blinks hard. “Where did you even get that idea from?”
“Hey, don’t get me wrong,” Kai shrugs. “I’m flattered, actually. But, ah, maybe you should be less obvious next time.”
“I’m not acknowledging that,” Beomgyu sighs. He’s occupied as it is; letting Kai mess with him is the last thing on his list. When Kai shrugs and turns towards his office, it strikes him that Kai might be able to tell him himself. It's a bit of a stretch, but-
“Wait!” Beomgyu near-yells, turning some heads over at Sales. They peer curiously as Kai whips around, pointing at himself with a raised eyebrow. “Me?”
“Your shirt.” Beomgyu crosses his arms across his chest in an effort to throw Kai off. He doesn’t have to try too hard, clearly, because Kai looks confused anyway. “It’s, uh, it’s nice. Is it new?”
“Oh, Beomgyu,” Kai breaks into a grin, and his teeth sparkle under dry fluorescent lights. “You are flirting with me! No, actually, this isn’t new, but it’s sweet of you to notice.”
Beomgyu turns his head both ways before gulping loudly. Yeah, Sales is definitely looking, and they’re far too interested for Beomgyu’s comfort. Before he can even correct the ridiculous assumption, Kai leans in theatrically. “Things like this could get you written up at HR, you know,” he whispers. “Lucky for you, I can sort it out with them.”
“This isn’t flirting,” Beomgyu flounders, and this time it’s Kai who crosses his arms, his grin dimming into a softer smile. Kai chuckles lightly at that.
In place of a response, Kai points over the table to the Sales team, who scatter like sand when they realise they’ve caught their attention. All of them but one, who takes just a second longer than the rest. “No write-ups. But Taehyun over there doesn’t look too pleased.”
Beomgyu’s eyebrows scrunch. “What does that have to do with this?”
“Nothing, just…” Kai shrugs, noncommittal. After a wayward glance towards the evidently embarrassed team at the other table, he gives Beomgyu a small wave before he disappears into his office.
Still, someting doesn't sit quie right with him. Beomgyu isn't wrong about these things. So where the hell has he seen this shirt?
Beomgyu raises his head just over the monitors, catching a glimpse of a pair of very wide, very much staring-his-way eyes. Taehyun coughs loudly and stares at his computer, only the slope of his shoulders left visible. A sigh escapes him. Maybe it’ll come to him later.
His monitor comes to life with a grumble. Beomgyu holds back a string of curses when the screen freezes, and he gives the side of the machine a little whack before it whirrs back on. Some of it is his own fault, really, because his team was the one that demanded budget cuts. Unfortunately for him, he’d forgotten how useless HQ actually was - because their idea of ‘budgeting’ was using computers from the last century.
Accounting is dull. It’s promising in the way that Beomgyu doesn’t think he’ll ever be out of a job, but the longer he spends on his spreadsheets, the more the figures blur into each other. It’s easy for his attention to slip from the computer and across the room instead.
Taehyun is busy on his phone. Beomgyu doesn’t really care about that, though; misusing company time is one of his favourite things to do. What he does care about is the frown marring his features. Far from his usual stoic facade, he’s almost… upset?
Right then, a notification pops up on Beomgyu’s screen. A glance tells him it’s a reminder email for their biannual company retreat. The last line catches him off guard, and he snorts loudly. Quickly, he looks up to make sure no one caught it. Recently, their in-branch emails have been spruced up - more entertaining, at least, even though they hold the same dry content as always. Soobin seems to let Kai get away with a lot.
He’s just glad he got out of the whole ordeal when he still could. Heaven knows he doesn’t want to deal with any of his coworkers more than he’s forced to, especially–
“Beomgyu!”
Goddamn it.
“Yeonjun,” he greets stiffly, swivelling around in his chair. He doesn’t have to turn, though, because Yeonjun rolls his chair close enough that the armrests clash, and leans into his cubicle with wide eyes. “What’s this?”
Yeonjun squints at the screen, pressing a finger to the word retreat. “Whoa, I didn’t know they had these here! Is it like camping, or something?”
“Or something,” Beomgyu grumbles.
Yeonjun beams up at him and he almost gulps. He’s grown used to this; a familiar grin, round eyes that follow his every move, but it never gets any less uncomfortable. “Are you coming too? This looks like so much fun, I never had these at my last job.”
Sometimes, Beomgyu thinks the new hire was hired solely so they could have someone chew on Beomgyu’s fraying nerves to see how long he'll take to explode. Before Yeonjun, Beomgyu prided himself on his patience. There’s just something about this man, though; his insistence to be within five feet of Beomgyu all the time, his uncanny smile every time he speaks to him.
Begrudgingly, he’s willing to admit that Soobin might have asked him to do this; shadow Beomgyu until he learns the ropes, but he’s been here two months; long enough for Yeonjun to stop following him to the break room every time he’s trying to get away from him.
He’s reached a point where he fears that if he begins talking about Yeonjun, he'll go insane. So he avoids talking about him at all costs. Talking to him, however, is not solved as easily.
“...Beomgyu?”
That snaps him out of it. “What? Oh,” he blinks hard before leaning back in his chair. As far from Yeonjun as possible. “No, I don’t exactly have time.”
“Beomgyu,” Yeonjun’s lips curve at the very edges, and the word makes Beomgyu still in his tracks. His eyes widen of their own accord when Yeonjun pulls back from the computer slightly, and leans closer to him. “It’ll be so fun, I'm sure! You don’t get chances like these very often.”
“Uh,” Beomgyu manages very intelligently, and all of a sudden Yeonjun’s eyes bore into him. Harmless, he knows, curious at best, but it still makes him shuffle backward and stand up, dusting imaginary lint off his pants. “I’ll think about it,” he announces, before he scurries off to Soobin’s office. Crisis averted.
“Choi Soobin,” he calls warily as he wanders in. The door is always left open, for some reason; Soobin says he enjoys hearing office sounds as background noise while he works, but that ridiculous claim would require him to work in the first place. Soobin looks up from his computer, and the theme song for one of those match-3 games pours out from his tinny speakers.
Something’s different today, Beomgyu notes. His hair isn’t in his face for once, and his blazer is eerily crease-free. “What are you all dolled up for?”
“That’s a secret,” Soobin replies cheerily.
Whatever, he doesn’t have time to worry about that. He plants himself comfortably into the chair across Soobin’s desk and throws his head back with a groan.
“I don’t like the new guy,” he tells him, and Soobin nods sagely in response. “So I’ve heard.”
“What?” Beomgyu snaps his neck up to meet Soobin’s eyes. “From who?”
“You,” Soobin sighs. “You've said it three times this week. You know he just got here, right?”
“That doesn’t make him less infuriating!”
“It should make you more tolerant.” Soobin adjusts his tie, using his sleek new computer’s screen as a mirror. Beomgyu will never be able to fathom how the person who works the least somehow gets the best facilities. “You can be nicer, you know. I’m sure handling accounting all on your own isn’t easy. He’s here to make things easier for you.”
“But,” Beomgyu groans. “Why does he have to be so…” he holds his fingers up in a warped gesture, brings it to his neck and pretends to choke himself. “He’s like a housefly, seriously, he’s stuck to my back.”
“Houseflies are meant to be helpful,” Soobin tells him sincerely.
“I’ll tell you what,” Soobin finally says, after taking a good, long look into his screen. “I can’t fire him, you know that,” he says when Beomgyu opens his mouth, and that makes him promptly shut it. “But you can make him help. Give him all the useless tasks, the things you don’t like to do.”
“I already do that,” Beomgyu mutters, picking at his nails.
“That’s a good start.” Soobin nods. “Just keep it going, okay? It’ll get better soon, I promise. He’ll get bored of you.”
“You’re so helpful,” Beomgyu grins without letting it reach his eyes. It must unsettle Soobin, judging by how quickly his face drops. “Thanks, Soobin, really. He and I are going to be best friends now.”
“Good to know.”
“That’s not what I-”
“Is there anything else we need to talk about?” Soobin asks, and there’s the slightest hint of exasperation in his tone. It’s time for him to leave, he knows, but Beomgyu isn’t quite ready yet.
“Kai,” he says, with no context at all. Soobin raises one unamused eyebrow.
“Kai,” Soobin repeats back to him. ‘What about him?’
“Is he authorised to send emails like that?” Beomgyu hums. “I mean, I’m all for it, Taehyun has no business being late so often, but is that allowed?”
“Is what allowed?” Soobin looks genuinely confused.
“The email,” Beomgyu repeats, and something clicks behind Soobin’s eyes. “The one we got for the Gapyeong trip. Which I’m not coming to, by the way,” he adds, but Soobin just nods.
“Yes,” Soobin says slowly. “The email which I received… and read. It’s authorised, yes.”
“Sounds about right,” Beomgyu says. “Only you’d let shit like that fly.”
“Language,” Soobin says tiredly, but Beomgyu doesn’t even let him finish. “Speaking of,” he leans forward across the desk, conspiratorial and mysterious all at once.
“Do you think there’s something going on there?”
“With Kai and Taehyun?” Soobin asks, and Beomgyu nods rapidly. “You might be onto something. I did hear a few things.”
No one knows this except for Beomgyu, and it’s information he holds very close – aside from himself, Soobin is the biggest gossip at the office. Often, he knows even more than Beomgyu does. Getting information out of him, though, is a task and a half.
“This is the part where you tell me what you heard,” Beomgyu whispers, but Soobin shakes his head.
“They’re just rumours, I don’t want to get them in trouble.”
“Soobin, the only person they could get in trouble with is you,” Beomgyu sighs.
Soobin blinks. “Huh. I guess you’re right.”
“Okay, make it quick, I have to get back to work,” Beomgyu urges, turning his face so Soobin can whisper whatever it is into his ear. It’s childish, but Soobin seems to like it this way. “They despise each other,” Soobin whispers dramatically, and Beomgyu pulls back with a frown.
Soobin points past the glass wall separating his office from the rest of them. Beomgyu follows his gaze to see Taehyun and Kai, stiff as rods, at the furthest ends of the break room. Dutifully sipping instant coffee, like anyone would.
“How does that prove anything?” Beomgyu hisses.
“Why would they be so far apart if they didn’t hate each other?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Beomgyu protests. “If they hated each other, why would they be in the break room together at all?”
“It’s a complicated system,” Soobin explains. “Which I will consider explaining to you if you go back to your desk, and work, like the company pays you to.”
“You’re no fun,” Beomgyu huffs, and peels himself off the chair. It’s a shame, because it really was comfortable; Soobin ordered them for client meetings. There hasn’t been a single client meeting since they got delivered, but considering the number of times Beomgyu has found himself seated in them, he isn’t about to complain.
“Work hard!” Soobin calls after him with a grin, but it’s impossible to take him seriously when the match-3 game chimes softly as he shuts the door. But that bothers him less than Soobin’s theory about Taehyun and Kai does, because something about that just doesn’t connect.
It won’t be a mystery for very long if he can help it, though.
✉︎✉︎✉︎
From: Huening Kai, HR
To: Kang Taehyun, SalesSubject: Room Assignments for Upcoming Retreat
Dearest Mr. Kang,
I’m writing to inform you of the updated room assignments for the Gapyeong retreat. You will be in Room 502, with Huening Kai from HR. Please note no change requests will be considered.
Enjoy your trip!
P.S. you look extra gorgeous today. Not that I’ve been staring or anything. Your desk is just right in my line of sight. Total coincidence.
Best,
Huening Kai
HR
From: Kang Taehyun, Sales
To: Huening Kai, HRRe: Room Assignments for Upcoming Retreat
Kai,
Okay.
P.S. you don’t look half bad yourself. I like the shirt.
Kang Taehyun
Sales
✉︎✉︎✉︎
The key turns in the lock with a familiar click, and Kai lets himself into the apartment. “I’m home,” he calls cheerily, and kicks his shoes off in the foyer before falling gracelessly onto the couch. The soft down eases his bones instantly, and he practically melts into the cushions before a reply comes.
“This is my house, though?” Taehyun's voice drifts from the kitchen, and Kai can hear the smile in it even if he can't see his face.
“It was, until you gave me the keys,” Kai agrees. With great determination, he picks himself up, and makes his way to the kitchen. Something smells heavenly– and Kai can’t be too sure it isn’t just Taehyun himself when he wraps his hands around his waist, pressing his nose into Taehyun’s neck. He's been busy over the stove since Kai got here, and he wants nothing more than to tug Taehyun away from it, and into himself.
Dinner smells phenomenal, though, and curiosity defeats him in the end. “What’s that?” he asks, and the hair on Taehyun’s nape brushes against his face. It almost tickles, but Taehyun shivers tellingly in his hold, and Kai fights to keep his smirk at bay. “Secret,” Taehyun replies. “Get the plates, I’ll bring this out.”
The apartment is small but tidy - clean lines and neutral colors, like Taehyun himself. The only thing out of place is a throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch, and Kai recognizes it as the one he'd used last time he stayed over. Taehyun emerges from the kitchen carrying two plates. Rice, side dishes, what looks like leftover stew from the night before. Nothing fancy, but Kai's stomach growls anyway.
“You're late,” Taehyun says, setting the plates on the coffee table. “Traffic was bad?”
“Not my fault this time.” Kai settles onto the couch, tucking his legs under himself. “Someone held a meeting that ran forty minutes over. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that, Mr. Kang, since you're never late.”
Taehyun's ears go pink. Kai’s too busy laughing to notice it; Taehyun inches closer, and catches him when he’s at his most vulnerable– he jabs a finger into Kai’s side, and Kai winces, mock-wounded. “Okay, okay, sorry,” Kai laughs. “The meeting really did run long, though.”
Taehyun pokes him again, and Kai catches his wrist, pulling him down onto the couch. They land in a tangle of limbs, Taehyun half on top of him, and for a moment, they just stay frozen, breathing the same air.
“Hi,” Kai says softly, and Taehyun’s eyes sparkle.
“Hi.” Taehyun's close– close enough that Kai could wrap one arm over his waist and hold him in place. When he does, he revels in the little gasp Taehyun lets out, before he ducks his head and places a quick kiss to Kai’s lips. It’s not enough– nowhere near– and Kai raises his head again, in search, but Taehyun straightens up.
“Dinner first,” he announces, and Kai groans.
But he finds that there’s not much to complain about when he plates it out for himself and Taehyun, and he’s settled against the couch cushions, Taehyun’s shoulders under his arm. Taehyun keeps a steady hand in Kai’s lap as he sets up a movie for them, and the weight is warm. Comforting.
The movie starts, but neither of them is really watching. Kai picks at his rice, stealing glances at Taehyun's profile, the way the TV light flickers across his cheekbones. Like this, it’s so easy to fall into a world of memories, back when he first met Taehyun. Strobe lights, loud music, all at someone’s birthday party he doesn’t even remember the name of– he’d regretted going the whole time until his gaze fell on the prettiest man he’d ever seen.
It was almost two years ago. But in the dark, with his face only lit in the blue television light, he looks just like he did then – a forgotten drink in his hands as he laughed along to someone’s jokes, and all Kai could think was I want to make him laugh like that.
He’d forgotten one crucial fact then, though – that he was drunk beyond measure. It’s a miracle the other man even looked his way. When he sauntered over, his practiced suave dripped away the closer he got. Taehyun’s attention was already wavering from his conversation, and that’s how Kai knew he had it in the bag.
Okay, that’s a complete lie. He was still shaking the whole time. Eventually, Taehyun turned to him with a stiff expression, a solo cup in his folded hands. “Who are you?” he asked, and something about it was inexplicably hilarious to Kai. He had to stifle his giggle before he cleared his throat.
“Are you from–” he coughed, and damn, did it ruin his spectacular one-liner. “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only one I see,” he says confidently, and Taehyun raises an eyebrow.
“First, we’re in Seoul. And if your pick-up line is calling me a one, I’m not sure how far it’ll get you,” Taehyun says, just loud enough that Kai can hear him over the music. Kai furrows his brows, and it finally strikes him.
“Oh,” Kai fiddles with the edge of his sleeve. “Sorry. I’m Kai. I just had, like, six drinks and you’re so pretty I got distracted.”
“That’s… one way of fixing it,” Taehyun nods, and when he finally looks up to meet Kai’s eyes, he cracks a smile. “I’m Taehyun.”
He still doesn’t remember whose birthday party it was, or why he even went. All he knows is that whoever it was, he owes them his entire life, for bringing him to Kang Taehyun. The movie runs on, and Taehyun laughs at some onscreen joke — a real laugh, soft and surprised, and Kai's chest aches with how much he loves him.
“You should apply,” he'd said when a position opened up at the Seoul branch several months ago. Kai brought it up over dinner, casually, like it hadn't been the first thing on his mind since he'd seen the internal posting. Taehyun had looked at him like he'd grown a second head.
The apprehension was immediate. Taehyun listed every reason it was a bad idea: the proximity, the gossip, the scrutiny – the way it would blur every line they'd carefully drawn. Kai listened to all of them, nodded along, and then gently dismantled every objection over the course of two weeks. Strategically, patiently– okay, maybe a little manipulatively, if he was being honest.
Because the truth was simpler than all of Taehyun's carefully constructed arguments: Kai just wanted to see him more. The stolen weekends, rushed dinners squeezed in on busy weekdays – all of it was fine, but an opportunity that let them exist beside each other was too sweet to pass up. Their departments were far enough that they wouldn’t be together all the time, which only made it sweeter to Kai.
So he persuaded, and cajoled. And maybe, once, batted his eyelashes until Taehyun threw a pillow at his head and said he’d take a look at it. A couple weeks later, Taehyun got the job. They’d never talked about what it meant for them, other than that their coworkers didn’t need to know – and they’ve stagnated there ever since.
Kai traces the back of Taehyun's hand with his thumb, feeling the ridges of his knuckles, the calluses from the gym. It’s rough under the pads of his fingers, but he laces his fingers into Taehyun’s anyway and holds it against himself. “Can I ask you something?”
Taehyun nods, chewing on a spoonful of rice. His attention is still fixed to the movie.
“Why are we still… doing this?” Kai asks quietly. “All this hiding.”
Taehyun is so still that it scares Kai for a moment, and he rushes to clarify.
“I already filled out the forms,” he says. “The disclosure forms, I mean. I filled them out months ago, and… we’re cleared, the office won’t have anything to say. In case that’s what’s making you worried. We’re okay legally.”
“That’s not it,” Taehyun says, and doesn’t clarify.
It takes him a moment, and Kai gives it to him willingly; Taehyun is silent, jaw tightening and loosening before he says anything at all. It’s something Kai has grown used to over the years. Taehyun always wants for everything he says to be conveyed perfectly; he hates correcting himself, and sometimes, if he can’t figure out how to say it, he simply doesn’t.
It was a hard pill to swallow for Kai, because talking has always been everything to him - more than just the way he communicates, it’s how he shares pieces of himself; and Taehyun not doing it for him felt like a rejection at first. He had to learn that long quiet spells were Taehyun trying his best to be perfect for Kai, even though he never expected it from him.
Taehyun is quiet, but not unaware. He’s learnt, too, that it matters to Kai how often they speak, even if it means they tell each other anything at all - or sometimes, nothing. A warm hand on his back, or fingers laced in his own, or Kai’s hands somewhere over Taehyun when he hasn't yet figured out what to say. It’s not perfect, but they honour it. Taehyun’s grip on him grows warmer the longer he holds him.
“I’m not worried about that,” he says finally, and Kai nods. “I just… you know I’m not much of a public person, Kai-ya. I just don’t think anyone but us needs to be in our business. For any reason.”
“And you think it’ll only be that way if… we keep it a secret?” Kai asks quietly, and Taehyun’s hand suddenly feels uncomfortably warm in his. He doesn’t let go, though. “Don’t you think we could just ask people to leave us alone?”
“It’s not that simple,” Taehyun sighs. “It's not that anything catastrophic will happen. It's just, I like moulding how people see me. I like being the one to decide what they know and when they know it. And this– us, Kai-ya, I don’t think they need to know.”
Taehyun turns to look at him. His eyes are dark in the low light, but there's something vulnerable there, something he usually keeps hidden behind his professional mask. “I don’t want you to think it’s because of you,” he says softly, raising his free hand to cup Kai’s face. Kai almost gives way and melts into his hold, their plates of food forgotten on the coffee table. “It's never been about you. I trust you. I just don't trust... everyone else.”
Taehyun pulls his hand back, just slightly. He runs his hand through Kai’s hair, brushing the length over his ear even though it’s not long at all.
Taehyun sighs. “It's not for the reason you think. I just don’t want all these people in our business. They’re not going to stop with just knowing, Kai-ya, they’ll watch.” He pauses to catch his breath, but it only seems to stress him out. “You never know when they’ll report us for something we never did, or things we’ve never said, or-”
“I know,” Kai soothes, and he rests his hand on Taehyun’s back. “But we'd work through it, won’t we?”
“I'm still not sure,” he says quietly. “I know it's irrational. I know HQ doesn't care, and no one's going to fire us or even reprimand us. But it's not about the consequences, Kai. It's about…” He struggles for the words. “It's about people knowing. People looking at us differently. People having opinions.”
The simple, brutal fact that the world doesn't have to be fair to them; if the wrong person finds out, if the wrong rumour starts, none of that will matter.
Kai nods. "I get it."
Taehyun rushes to assure him. “I'm not saying no. I'm just– let's sit on it, okay? Not forever. Just a little longer.”
“Okay.” Kai's voice is steady. It doesn't waver, because he's used to this already. Used to having to hide the way he feels, to put them on the back and make it a performance. “Okay,” he says again, softer. “We can sit on it.”
Kai tugs him closer, and Taehyun comes easily, settling against his side with his head on Kai's shoulder. The throw blanket pools around them, and the TV flickers with scenes Kai hasn't been watching.
Taehyun’s arm slides around Kai's waist, and his fingers curl into the fabric of Kai's shirt, and he doesn't let go. The movie ends eventually; maybe it's the second one now, Kai isn't sure. All he knows is the weight of Taehyun against his side, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the way his hand hasn't moved from Kai's waist.
"You should stay over," Taehyun murmurs, half-asleep, as though Kai doesn’t stay over every other day. Kai presses a kiss to the top of his head. His own head is in a tangle, but right now, in this apartment, with Taehyun warm and solid against him, Kai lets himself simply be.
The movie plays on, forgotten.
✉︎✉︎✉︎
Coffee, that ingenious thing.
It’s the sole reason Kai manages to make it through every workday without dramatically collapsing every now and then. Well, there’s also the fact that the love of his life is about ten feet away at all times. But on mornings when the only thing he’s running on is empty fumes and the distant promise of an iced americano, coffee is the biggest reason.
The other reason that coffee is so enticing to Kai is a little less about its ability to keep him upright. More specifically, it’s the coffee breaks he takes. They’re what let him have a few minutes a day that he gets to spend with Taehyun, free from suspicious eyes.
“Mr. Kang. Fancy seeing you here,” Kai smiles, striding into the room. Calling it a room is a little pointless; there’s only one glass wall separating them from the rest of the floor, and privacy is nonexistent.
But for now, no one is looking. Taehyun's lips curl into an almost-smile before he catches himself. “Kai-ssi,” he mutters, but his voice is warmer than his words. Kai leans against the counter beside him, close enough that their elbows bump. “Okay, you first. What'd I miss this morning?”
Taehyun's eyes dart to the door, then back. A small smile breaks through despite himself. “Right, so, Jiwoong brings these extra-protein sandwiches or something, right? That no one else is allowed to touch?” he points to the refrigerator, and Kai follows it to find the post-it stuck on the door. “Yeah?”
Jiwoong is actually a perfectly nice guy; everyone just perceives him as intimidating until they get to know him. His large frame doesn’t make it any easier for him, but Kai’s found he’s a pretty fun guy to talk to – who’s awfully specific about his food.
“Yuna just took it,” Taehyun whispers conspiratorially, leaning over like it really is important. “Jiwoong doesn’t know yet. I can’t wait till he finds out,” he giggles, and Kai has to hold back a snort of his own. The last time it happened, he’d almost teared up looking for his protein shake– Kai still hasn’t confessed that he was the one who’d taken it.
“Poor Jiwoong,” Kai nods solemnly.
They sip their coffees in sync, staring out at the floor so they don’t look at each other. Kai almost feels like he’s talking to the glass wall. “Oh, Soobin asked me for his email password again. And then he said—” Kai drops his voice to an absurdly low register, “Make sure you're being nice to the newbie,”
“Stop,” Taehyun laughs softly, and his hand flies out to grip Kai's wrist. His fingers curl around it like it's the most natural thing in the world. “Soobin does not sound like that.”
“He sounds exactly like that,” Kai insists, and Taehyun is laughing now – mostly through his nose, but real. His thumb brushes once over Kai's pulse point without thinking.
“You're going to get us caught,” Taehyun whispers, but he doesn't let go of Kai's wrist.
“You're the one holding me hostage,” Kai points out, and Taehyun's laugh catches in his throat. He releases Kai's wrist slowly, like he's memorising the shape of it. They stand there for a moment, breathing the same air, and Kai thinks this—this is why coffee is his favourite thing.
Then Taehyun's gaze flicks to the glass wall, and his expression shutters, just slightly. His hand drops to his side.
“They're watching,” he explains quietly, and it's only then that Kai senses it—a pair of very interested eyes behind frosted glass are looking their way. Beomgyu, partially obscured, definitely staring. “Sorry, I know you didn't do anything, but…”
“That’s okay,” Kai assures him, trying to soothe the sting with coffee that does absolutely nothing to help. He fixes his gaze to the wall again, leaning back against the counter that cuts uncomfortably into his back.
The minutes go by much quicker than Kai would like. Admittedly, Taehyun’s worry isn’t misplaced; Kai has caught lingering gazes on them more than once. The sting has long since dulled, but it still spikes every time Taehyun jerks away when they get too close.
“Sorry,” Kai coughs, but Taehyun waves him off. “I don’t think they saw, so–”
“Would it be so bad?” Kai asks quietly, but when Taehyun doesn’t answer, he’s worried it may have been too quiet.
The door swings open without warning, and Beomgyu freezes mid-step. Kai doesn’t move, either, but something in him jolts, and he shuffles just the slightest bit further from Taehyun - which means he’s up against the wall. Taehyun seems to have caught on too, because he clears his throat and turns to the other side, facing the refrigerator.
Beomgyu glances between the two of them, and lets out an awkward chuckle. “Am I interrupting?”
“No,” Taehyun says at the same time Kai says, “Yes– I mean, no.”
Beomgyu squints. “I just came to ask if either of you knows why the printer is making a noise like it’s going to die.”
Kai grabs the opportunity. He takes one look at Taehyun, gaze dipping to his neck, before he shakes his head. “Nope.” He says cheerily, and Taehyun nods too sharply and too quickly beside him.
“Right,” Beomgyu says slowly. “I’ll… uh, I’ll come back in a bit.”
“No, no,” Taehyun waves at him, and Beomgyu stops in his tracks where he’s trying to back out of the room. “I’m leaving anyway, it’s all yours.”
But before he goes, Taehyun pauses at the doorway, just long enough to glance back. His expression is unreadable to anyone else, but Kai knows it. Later. His fingers twitch at his side, like he's stopping himself from reaching out.
Taehyun swiftly walks out after that, leaving behind a dazed Kai and a somehow even more dazed Beomgyu. “Was that a little weird?” Beomgyu whispers, pointing at the exit Taehyun just left through, and the frustration must show on his face, because Beomgyu gulps almost immediately.
“Enjoy your break,” Kai offers stiffly before he goes.
✉︎✉︎✉︎
It’s definitely weird. This whole thing is weird as hell, Beomgyu thinks, and there’s no way he can be the only witness to all this. He pulls out his phone as soon as Kai storms out of the room.
to: Work Choi Soobin
[13:46] I WALKED IN ON THEM AGAIN
[13:46] in the breakroom
[13:46] alone
[13:47] and it was so weird??
from: Work Choi Soobin
[13:50] beomgyu it's a room
[13:51] people are allowed to be in it
to: Work Choi Soobin
[13:51] NOT LIKE THIS
[13:52] when i walked in they both went
[13:52]🧍♂️🧍♂️
[13:53] just. standing there. not talking
from: Work Choi Soobin
[13:55] that's called being polite
[13:55] they were waiting for you to get your stuff so they could leave
to: Work Choi Soobin
[13:56] but twice
[13:57] in one week
[13:57] coincidence? i think not
[14:15] soobin????
✉︎✉︎✉︎
Every day, Beomgyu finds at least two new reasons to quit his job, and today’s is the faulty printer.
They’ve only sent several requests to HQ, and lodged multiple complaints about how badly it functions. Beomgyu has strong reason to suspect that this crusty thing wasn’t even manufactured in this century, let alone any time in the last five years like HQ swore. There is no other explanation for why it makes sounds like a dying animal, why it seems to know exactly when he's already running late and decides that's the perfect moment to eat his documents.
Digitalisation has come far enough that there’s no real need for Beomgyu to print anything, so he really doesn’t understand why he needs to do this at all. Leaning over, he plays around with some of the buttons. “What,” he huffs, pressing a combination of them at once. “Is your problem, huh?”
The printer stops whirring suddenly, and an error message flashes on the small screen. The display has faded to the point where he can’t even figure out what the error is. Groaning, he gives the side of it a whack, and it comes out a little more forcefully than he expects it to. The Sales team turn their heads in unison at the sound, like robots, but that’s still not worse than fighting with the machine of his nightmares.
Placing the printer in the center of an already busy, crowded floor was the exact kind of decision he’d expect Soobin to make. He can’t even complain, because the machine runs on Wi-fi that refuses to work anywhere else. They can’t have it running worse than it already does, can they?
Miraculously, it starts up again. He’s barely placed a comforting hand on its head, to thank it for finally doing its job, when it stops trembling and starts beeping instead.
NOT ENOUGH PAPER! TO CONTINUE, PLEASE INSERT–
Beomgyu closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, chest heaving unceremoniously with how hard he tries to cling to his composure. He’d put in fifty sheets of paper only seconds before running the wretched print command. “It’s okay,” he soothes, drawing his breaths out to even them. “I can do this.”
With one last deep breath, he hits the bright red reset button, and it makes a funny little noise before humming again. Beomgyu almost breaks into tears of relief at the noise, and he kneels to pull out the tab at the bottom to collect his papers.
Now that, maybe, he shouldn’t have done, because the printer chooses now to spit out everything it has. In a ridiculously loud malfunction, the entire ream of paper comes flying out at Beomgyu’s face. And there’s only so much his patience allows.
“Kai!" he half-yells, half-pleads, trying his best to pick up the papers that are all over the floor now, narrowly missing a papercut with each of them. In a moment of haste, he jams one hand over the printer’s outlet. He must look a sight when Kai finally comes over, hiding a snicker behind his fist that masterfully disappears the moment Beomgyu lifts his head and levels him with a glare.
“Something up with the printer?” Kai asks sweetly, head tilted to one side.
“Oh, we got Sherlock over here,” Beomgyu grumbles, and Kai quickly kneels, grabbing as many of the papers as he can at once. “Yes, Kai, something is up with the printer.”
“They’re never going to fix this thing,” Kai mutters, stacking the scattered papers and lining them up. He looks up for a second, gaze darting between Beomgyu and his occupied hand, half-jammed into the printer. “You can let go of it now.”
“I, uh,” Beomgyu starts, wriggling his wrist as much as the narrow space allows. “I can’t, I think.”
“Tried playing mechanic?” Kai mutters, until his eyes widen slightly. “Oh, you’re not kidding, huh…”
“Okay, forget the printer, I’ll figure that out,” Kai says quickly, reaching over. Beomgyu leans back to give him way, but his eyebrows shoot upward when Kai puts both of his hands over Beomgyu’s. He’s left only to watch as Kai deftly pushes something inside the machine that eases the thing pressing onto his wrist. Relief comes in a matter of seconds, and he can’t hold back the happy sigh that leaves his lips when he’s finally free.
“Kai?”
The two of them snap up in unison at the sound of the new voice, but Beomgyu recognises it before he does. Taehyun looks down at the two of them– or should he say, glowers at the mess between them, strewn papers and crumpled ones stuck inside the machine. Kai dusts his hands off before he stands up.
“The printer broke,” he explains to Taehyun, and Beomgyu doesn’t miss a second of it - not the way Kai’s hands naturally find their way to his pockets, tucked as deep as they can go. Not the tiny shifts in expressions with each passing second on Taehyun’s face. He can’t make anything of it, but surely, he can’t be happy to see Kai on the floor like this, even if they hate each other. Which Beomgyu still doesn’t believe, but that doesn’t matter.
“Right,” Taehyun nods slowly, breaking the silence. They look at each other for a second, saying absolutely nothing, until Beomgyu clears his throat. “Um, thank you for the help,” he says, motioning vaguely to himself and the printer. Kai nods and swiftly disappears into his office, door closing behind him. Taehyun lingers a little longer.
“I called the mechanic, so you don’t have to worry,” Taehyun tells him stiffly, resting his hands on the top of the printer. It’s only when Beomgyu realises he still has to look up to meet Taehyun’s eyes does he realise that he’s still on the floor, and he sheepishly dusts himself off when he stands up, picking up the neat pile of papers he left earlier.
He nods his thanks to Taehyun before carrying the printouts back to his desk. There are seven more copies of the expenditure sheet than he needs, but at least he has them. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Taehyun disappearing into the stairwell. Beomgyu counts one, two, three minutes before Kai steps out of his office and heads towards the stairwell door.
“Did you see that?”
Beomgyu almost jumps out of his skin. Yeonjun peers over the cubicle divider with wide eyes. Yeonjun gestures over to the door, as though it hasn’t been plaguing Beomgyu’s mind from the very moment he noticed it. “Taehyun left, and Kai–”
“I know,” Beomgyu murmurs, and Yeonjun nods diligently. “So you know they they’re–”
Beomgyu tunes the rest of it out, eyes fixed to the door. It creaks when Kai closes it behind him, disappearing into the stairwell. There’s definitely something. A mysteriously large amount of something trails after the pair of them and Beomgyu won’t rest until he knows exactly what it is.
✉︎✉︎✉︎
Three minutes is all it takes. It’s two minutes less than the five Taehyun demanded he wait for, but Kai can’t be blamed for his impatience - not when the look on Taehyun’s face screamed you’re in trouble, can he?
Kai surveys the surroundings as soon as he steps out of his office, eyes darting across the crowded room. The only thing that worries him is Beomgyu’s eyes fixed on the door, and he ends up freezing with his fingers around the handle when Beomgyu’s narrowed gaze lands on him.
Luckily, Yeonjun whispers something to him over the cubicle that makes Beomgyu nearly jump out of his skin, and Kai steals the opportunity to slip outside.
It’s almost like a breath of fresh air as soon as the door shuts with a loud click behind him, away from the stuffy, warm insides of the office. From the top of the stairs, it’s laid out perfectly for him; Taehyun leaning against the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He’s checking his watch, and looks up sharply when the door creaks. Kai feels a pang behind his ribs that only grows louder as he descends the stairs, Taehyun’s glare barely reducing in intensity the closer he gets.
“You’re early,” he mutters, shifting slightly as he stares down at the parking lot. From how stiff he’s being, Kai knows not to inch closer like he usually would, but it doesn’t stop him from getting as close as he can, leaning against the staircase railing. It digs into his spine, the chill cutting through all the layers of his clothes, but he doesn’t complain. He can’t, not when–
“I told you to wait five minutes.” Taehyun says, quiet but piercing. Kai paces his breathing, inhaling slowly with every passing minute Taehyun refuses to look at him. It’s not worry that fills his chest, because Taehyun knows Kai, knows none of what happened means anything, but he's unwilling to admit it. Kai drops his expectant gaze finally, and fiddles with the edges of his nails.
“The printer really sucks,” Kai mutters, not looking up. Taehyun turns to him, finally, and his gaze softens by a fraction. “But you know that, Taehyun-ah.”
“I do,” Taehyun admits begrudgingly, loosening his arms. “But that doesn’t–”
“Doesn’t explain it, I know. But,” Kai sighs, and when he meets his boyfriend’s eyes, something strange sparkles in there. “I just helped him out. The guy’s hand was jammed in the printer.”
“Of course Beomgyu would do something like that,” Taehyun mutters, and he looks away before his hand darts out and lands on Kai’s arm. It catches Kai completely off guard, and his eyes widen before he somehow scrambles, glancing up at the door. No one’s there, of course, but it takes a moment for Kai’s racing heart to settle.
“It's not about the printer,” Kai realises rather than asks, and his question is answered when Taehyun’s fingers curl around Kai's sleeve. It’s too loose to hold him in place, but Kai stays still regardless. Taehyun doesn’t meet his eyes; his gaze is still fixed on something outside the window.
“It’s not,” Taehyun agrees quietly. He doesn’t say anything else, but Kai feels his chest tighten. He opens his mouth to speak, but Taehyun holds his other hand up, cutting him off easily.
But instead of saying anything, he trails lower, from Kai’s sleeve to his palm. His fingers are warm where they leave traces, and he runs them over the divots between Kai’s knuckles, still silent. Kai is almost afraid to move; this is much, much further than Taehyun ever goes at work, so he simply lets him. Lets Taehyun trace patterns over the back of his hand, lets him lace their fingers finally, grip firmer than ever.
It’s instinct when Kai curls back, squeezing Taehyun’s hand. His palms are calloused from the gym; he always says he doesn’t like wearing the protective gloves, and Kai always complains about how rough they are, but right now, the friction grounds him. Then Taehyun looks up at him, and his eyes shine with something– not tears, no, but something else. Something he’s struggling to say.
Kai waits for it to break.
For Taehyun to dust himself off and give Kai a stiff pat on the back, tell him they’ll see each other in the car before he marches off to his desk, leaving Kai only a little more desperate with each time. But Taehyun only stares, tilting his head just slightly upward to mirror Kai’s wide-eyed face.
Taehyun clears his throat. “I–”
The sound of heels clicking against concrete rings in the stairwell all of a sudden, and Taehyun almost steps backward, eyes as wide as moons. On instinct, Kai jerks his head upward, but the sound only gets quieter until it fades entirely. But his grip stays tight, clutching Kai’s hand like a lifeline.
“I don't think we should, uh,” Kai murmurs, motioning to their linked hands, but it's all he manages to get out before he gets a proper look at Taehyun. In his hold, Kai can feel him shaking, just slightly, just enough to notice, and realizes with a start that Taehyun is scared.
“No,” Taehyun shakes his head. “Let me do this, okay?"
Kai squeezes his hand, and lets him continue.
“It’s just. I can’t stand seeing you like that, you know?” Taehyun whispers. “I know there’s– that it’s nothing, but seeing you like that, right next to Beomgyu all because of that stupid printer–”
“Taehyun,” Kai cuts gently, and Taehyun blinks. “You know there’s nothing there. Better than anyone.”
"I know," Taehyun's voice cracks, just a little. He leans back against the wall, resting his back, before he takes a deep breath. "I know he had his hand stuck, I know you were just helping. But you don't have to think about it. You just... do it,” he says, and Kai raises an eyebrow.
“I do what?”
“All of it,” Taehyun breathes, and he’s quick to explain. “You’re always ready to help, even if it’s something as stupid as a printer. It’s like you’re there for everyone. It’s not about him, I– I’m not sure how to say it,” he admits, and Kai only nods.
“And I'm standing there watching, and I can't even—” He cuts himself off, finally dragging his gaze back to Kai's face. His eyes are bright, but he's not crying. He's too stubborn for that. “I can't even look at you too long without someone noticing.”
Oh.
“It’s stupid, and I know, okay? I told you we had to hide this, and now I’m acting up. I just- it worries me. But it’s not easy, Kai-ya, you know that.”
“Taehyun-ah,” Kai finds himself raising his hand to Taehyun’s face, cupping around his cheek so he can tilt Taehyun closer. He complies easily, almost melting into his touch, and Kai has to fight not to melt at that. “It’s okay. We don’t have to figure this out now.”
“Not right now,” Taehyun agrees. “But at some point, we have to. I have to,” he corrects himself, and pulls back gently so Kai isn’t holding him anymore. His fingers loosen around Kai’s, and he misses the warmth immediately.
“We’ll do it together,” Kai promises, and Taehyun flashes a small smile at him before he lets go of his hand. “It doesn’t matter what happens. You mean more to me than anything here does, okay?”
“As do you,” Taehyun tells him softly, and turns to the window again. He looks outside for a long moment, and Kai’s left looking at his back; looking at him without being seen back, and it makes him a little uneasy. He turns back all of a sudden, and his face is devoid of everything it held a minute ago. Polished; almost foreign. “I’m going back now. At least this time, wait the full five minutes, okay?”
“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kai gives him a finger salute as he heads back up the stairs, and he’s left with the glorious view of the parking lot and all the thoughts Taehyun left rattling in his head. He takes a deep breath and leans back against the wall. He’s not sure how much longer this can go on.
✉︎✉︎✉︎
From: Choi Beomgyu, Accounting
To: Choi Soobin, ManagementSubject: NOT attending Gapyeong Retreat
Soobin,
I’m writing to remind you that I will not be at the retreat this weekend. With great regret, of course, I have written to you regarding this already, three weeks ago, and brought it up verbally several times after as well. I have plans that weekend. Also, respectfully, I have no real interest in spending the weekend with any of you.
Please do not put me on any room assignments or meal preference lists or icebreaker rosters or whatever else Kai is cooking up in that HR dungeon. I will not be there.
Attached is the email I sent you on October 12th. For your convenience I have highlighted the relevant section in red. Let me know if you need me to forward it again.
Again, just in case it gets lost, I will NOT be coming.
Lukewarm regards,
Beomgyu
From: Huening Kai, HR
To: Choi Beomgyu, AccountingRe: NOT attending Gapyeong Retreat
Dear Beomgyu,
All office emails go though the HR Dungeon, actually. Isn’t that fascinating?
It is with utmost regret that we must decline your regret. Unfortunately, since you have not followed up with the lack of reply to your cancellation, we were unable to process it. Silence is enthusiastic consent, and all that. All tickets are booked, and as an added bonus and personal apology, we have you on the roster for:
1. Icebreaker Lead
2. Room Key Collection
3. Group Photo Coordination
Transportation departs at 9 A.M. on the 28th of November. Attached is the list of items to pack and the location of the terminal. Don’t be late!Best,
Huening Kai
HR (Dungeon resident)
From: Choi Soobin, Management
To: Choi Beomgyu, Accounting
BCC: Huening Kai, HRRe: Re: NOT attending Gapyeong Retreat
just get on the bus beomgyu we already bought tickets
Sent from my iPhone
✉︎✉︎✉︎