Chapter Text

Kim Dokja always thought that it was too good to be true. With his embarrassingly underqualified resume, he did not even know how he got the courage to apply for the secretary position at BTSS Electronics, least of all to the CEO himself.

It was a late-night spur-of-the-moment thing, to start with. After having received his nth rejection from an unnamed company, Kim Dokja was busy getting wasted with Han Sooyoung to soothe the ache of imposter syndrome with Soju with the highest alcohol content he could find. It was late in the night by then and he was blearily scrolling through sites, just barely sober enough to know where his priorities lie while his writer friend slumped over the table with her arms crossed over her head like she was preparing for something to fall on it.

He saw the job listing for the position and, with more alcohol in his system than blood at that point, sent in his CV via email with a copy-pasted brief introduction, shrugging it off with the thought that he had nothing to lose. So imagine his surprise when he got called in for an interview and then a call back telling him he got the job all within the week. 

He was pretty sure he was still nursing that same hangover a week later as he showed up early at BTSS’s front door and was given a very informational tour about the place that he was sure he could retain barely 10% knowledge of. He clocked in to work immediately, as, apparently, their CEO had been looking for a secretary for a while and they could not possibly delay work any longer now that a suitable candidate had been hired.

“Oh, okay,” Kim Dokja enunciated dazedly as the kind HR Manager, Yoo Sangah, pushed him into the elevator. She pressed the button for the top floor and waved him goodbye (and he didn’t know it at the time, but also good luck) like she was bidding adieu to a soldier going to war.

Working with the Chairman of BTSS Electronics was not as bad as Kim Dokja had expected, all things considered. Yoo Joonghyuk was not as terrifying as Kim Dokja’s new workplace jitters made him out to be. Then again, the secretary also half-heartedly believed that his boss was a serial killer and that the shorter man was going to be killed in the parking lot right after he got off work (just going off of the look Kim Dokja was sent just two steps into the man’s office on his first day.) He was immediately put to work following his anticlimactic reintroduction and the rest was history.

Yoo Joonghyuk was meticulous and strict, holding all his employees to very high standards. He didn’t hesitate to fire anyone he seemed underqualified for their positions, so it was a wonder Kim Dokja had been able to keep his for almost 5 years. After all, you would think that working so closely with Yoo Joonghyuk meant Kim Dokja’s shortcomings would very easily be scoped out and he would be sacked the first few times he fumbled with his job. However, so far, Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t even so much as threatened Kim Dokja (with dismissal, that is), unlike with some of the managers working under him.

So it stands to reason that there was another reason for Kim Dokja being kept around, as incompetent as he obviously was. After all, this man could not possibly just keep him employed because Kim Dokja knew just how to make his coffee exactly to his taste, was his dispenser for extra lunch portions (that he said was due to him being used to cooking for two), or because he always stayed behind with Yoo Joonghyuk to do overtime whenever he overworked himself and refused to go home until the stacks of papers on his desk was dealt with. This is why Kim Dokja concluded that if even he did not do his job well, the least he could do to make up for it and convince his boss to let him stay was to do a lot, regardless of the unspoken workplace boundaries he may have broken in his attempt to compensate for his inadequacy.

And what if, despite Yoo Joonghyuk’s candidness and borderline tyrannical leadership, Kim Dokja was attracted to him anyway? That man’s face was seemingly hand-sculpted by gods, living proof that there is a lottery to be won in the gene pool and he had gotten the jackpot. Kim Dokja could spend all day tracing his eyes over the contours of his jawline if he was allowed, but he could only stare at his boss for so long before the man would snap at him and tell him to get back to work with slightly reddened ears. They really need to fix the AC in this room.

At the same time, there was a degree of… cuteness, to the way he worked. Sometimes when reading over an important article, Yoo Joonghyuk’s brow would twitch as he came to an important decision. As flawless as that man seemingly was, the taller man also tended to be fidgety whenever he was impatient, and it showed in the way his thigh would bounce restlessly under his desk and the pen on his finger would twirl and then flop embarrassingly on the table because he failed to hold it upright. 

The Chairman was also nice at times. Like whenever he would offer to pay for his coffee if they went together at lunch; how he would let Kim Dokja take naps on the sofa in his office on occasions when they did overtime the night prior and still had to clock in early the following day. Or when he gave Kim Dokja a ride in his luxurious car a few times when it rained and Kim Dokja couldn’t possibly book it to the train station without being thoroughly soaked through. Kim Dokja had to admit that that guy, although he was uncompromising, did care for his employees. If they worked at BTSS long enough to be considered one of his, that is.

There were also perks that Kim Dokja got from being the secretary of the country’s most successful businessman in electronics — a nice office all to himself was one. He spent a lot of time there cleaning up after Yoo Joonghyuk’s (social and business) messes in meetings and, if he wasn’t hovering around the CEO, slacking off. Working at BTSS meant free lunches, a healthy work environment (when Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t actively trying to make his blood pressure rise), and a steady income. Like hell Kim Dokja wouldn’t do anything to hold down this job. 

Despite all his efforts, however, one day, Kim Dokja made an irrevocable miscalculation in his boss’s schedule, which resulted in Yoo Joonghyuk missing one of his work flights to the States. That plane trip alone must have cost Kim Dokja a couple of months’ worth of rent at the very least.

By the time he caught wind that Yoo Joonghyuk had headed into the office that day and canceled the trip altogether, Kim Dokja was already imagining himself packing up the things in his nice office into cardboard boxes, sorrowfully waving goodbye to the coworkers he had come to like, and going home to start the arduous process of job-applying again. After all, he had just made the CEO of BTSS stand up one of their most prominent potential overseas partner company’s head, Anna Croft. It was over for him — Kim Dokja was a goner. There goes his savings, free lunches, car rides home in the rain, and the comfortable background sound of Yoo Joonghyuk flipping papers in his office while Kim Dokja napped—

“Dokja-ssi?” Yoo Sangah knocked on his office door and cranked it open after a moment when she received no response. They were close enough that the action would not be considered rude. “Yoo Joonghyuk-sajangnim wants to see you in his office. Right now, if you could.”

Kim Dokja turned to Yoo Sangah with the most miserable look on his face, at least seven laps into pacing his office, wearing down the carpet. She gave him a wry little smile.

If the person coming to tell him to go up and meet their boss was from HR of all people, Kim Dokja already knew what awaited him on the top floor. He was going to be reassigned to customer status.

“Yes, Sangah-ssi,” Kim Dokja tried to channel all his experience of working in customer service into his smile in what he hoped came off as reassuring, only for it to make Yoo Sangah bite her lip in worry instead. “I’ll be right there.”

She sidestepped to let him pass, watching as he basically floated like a ghost, head in the clouds. Just before he went too out of range, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Dokja-ssi, I don’t think you need to worry too much about Yoo Joonghyuk-sajangnim. I don’t know him as well as you do, but even then, for this particular mistake, I don’t think he’ll do anything… drastic.” 

Considering Kim Dokja was only 80% sure Yoo Joonghyuk was not a masked killer almost half a decade into working for him, it really depends what her definition of drastic was. Was he going to get hunted and butchered in a back alley? …It remains to be seen based on how he would handle the situation later. But was he going to get the boot? Absolutely.

Kim Dokja nodded at his colleague with a resigned expression of peace. He had already come to terms with it all. 

Walking into the elevator, Kim Dokja pressed the button for the top floor. He watched as the elevator made a chiming sound as the doors shuttered close, and the secretary started toying with the ends of his sleeves behind his back as the relaxing waiting music played. It felt more ominous than if someone had played a funeral march at a centenarian’s birthday.

The numbers on the right panel rose steadily as he passed each floor. Kim Dokja almost wished that someone would coincidentally need to use the elevator and make it stop just for a moment to step in so he could savor the feeling of being employed for a second longer. Alas, no such thing happened. The number climbed and climbed until he was on the 64th floor. Leaving with the grace and fortitude of someone headed towards their own death, Kim Dokja knocked on the door plated “CEO, Yoo Joonghyuk”, and received a low “come in” in return.

Kim Dokja pushed the door open, letting it click shut behind him as he stood stiffly on the clean carpet floors of the Chief Executive Officer’s office. Yoo Joonghyuk had the blinds drawn back at this time of day (9 AM, to be exact), the sunlight streaming into the room and dancing off his smooth, soft black hair. He was looking at the documents in his hands and over his table, not even raising his head even when he knew it was Kim Dokja who stood in front of him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Yoo Joonghyuk-sajangnim,” Kim Dokja started. The only indication that Yoo Joonghyuk had heard him was his pausing work as he waited for Kim Dokja to continue. With as much courage as a newborn kitten would have in front of a tiger, he did. “Yoo Sangah-ssi said you called for me?” To fire me, went unsaid. 

“I did,” Some sounds of shuffling papers. Then, the roll of a chair over the carpet as Yoo Joonghyuk got out of his seat. A low voice, so close to him without warning that Kim Dokja could not help but flinch at, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Yes, but couldn’t you have done it from over there?! Kim Dokja internally lit himself on fire – or maybe it was the sensation of his nerves burning away at the edges when the smell of the taller man’s cologne invaded his senses.

Yoo Joonghyuk had approached him, a mere half an arm’s length away, and the secretary could not muster up the gall to look up and into his eyes. There was a hint of amusement in the CEO’s voice as he leisurely spoke, “I’m assuming you know what about?”

“I… yes. Yoo Joonghyuk-sajangnim, I’m terribly sorry, I–”

Where his gaze was fixed on the floor, Kim Dokja saw the polished dress shoe move, encroaching on his space. His gaze snapped to Yoo Joonghyuk’s face in shock, quickly stepping backward out of reflex and ended up hitting the door with a small sound of surprise. The Chairman did not stop his advance, coming even closer until his full height was hovering above the shorter man, one lean forearm resting beside his head. 

Kim Dokja could not help the blush that crept up his neck, spreading to his cheeks. In this position, anywhere he looked, he would be met with the unstoppable force and immovable stone that is Yoo Joonghyuk, business prodigy, youngest CEO to ever hold a position in BTSS Electronics’s history since its establishment, the driving force behind BTSSE’s booming global success since its near bankruptcy years prior. He was forced to look up and into that dark gaze, full of emotions — and worst of all, desire.

“Do I understand that you do not accept?” The taller man spoke, voice tinged with moroseness. Even like this, upset at something Kim Dokja did not know of, he looked good. Perhaps he would look good no matter what emotion mired his brow.

To my firing? “No, sir, that’s not what I—”

Yoo Joonghyuk cut him off. He seemed emboldened, somehow, after Kim Dokja had denied wanting to get canned. “‘Sir’, ‘sajangnim’...” Their faces were so near, mere inches apart. Kim Dokja could exhale and his breath would hit Yoo Joonghyuk’s clean-shaven face, particularly, his lips. “Must you always be so formal, Dokja?”

Kim Dokja might have stopped breathing when he heard those wispy words and felt the tension with which they hung in the air. He had been called multiple variations of his name in the past, some more endearing while others mocking. He had never gone without an honorific at the very least, so blatantly personal it should have felt rude; he never even dared to imagine how his name would sound in such a context, falling off the lips of his boss whom he was hopelessly infatuated with. 

Kim Dokja tried to think of a response, but Yoo Joonghyuk’s mere presence made it difficult to think straight. He broke eye contact and frantically searched for words.

Noticing his crisis, Yoo Joonghyuk, the evil bastard that he is, took Kim Dokja’s chin in his free hand, the other still braced against the dark wooden veneer behind him. “You think too much,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, lips so close to Kim Dokja’s that if he dared to lick his own lips, Kim Dokja would feel the other's. 

“Call me Joonghyuk.”

Then, Yoo Joonghyuk closed the remaining distance between them. 

Kim Dokja immediately went slack against the mouth moving against his, bluescreening. The kiss was ravenous, like Yoo Joonghyuk was a man in a desert and Kim Dokja, or his lips, was the oasis saving him from certain death. His mind was racing with thoughts. He was being kissed. Kissed, by Yoo Joonghyuk. This had to be violating some kind of code of conduct, something about the strain romantic workplace relationships can have on productivity, or- or something, this can’t be right. Yoo Joonghyuk, of all people, kissing Kim Dokja, of all people!

The hand on Kim Dokja’s chin was gentle, moving from that point to trace his jawline, like mapping out constellations with just his touch. The thumb rubbed gently against his cheek, but soon felt stiff, awkward. Kim Dokja could feel it before he could see or hear it – Yoo Joonghyuk was… insecure. For what? This man, talented in anything he picked up, with looks that could shoot Cupid’s arrow through the hearts of anyone who laid eyes on him, the kindhearted, caring older brother to his remaining family member, the reliable and capable Chairman of BTSS, there was nothing he could not do if he put his mind to it. So why did he feel this way?

Against the anguished yells of his heart, Kim Dokja let Yoo Joonghyuk withdraw from their kiss — one that he had not even been reciprocating, too lost in his thoughts. There was a sheen of vulnerability in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes as he let his hand move away, holding himself up against the door and really, effectively caging Kim Dokja in even more.

“Perhaps I...” Yoo Joonghyuk tried to say, but words failed him, as they often do.

Against his better judgment, Kim Dokja fiercely grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close, once again sealing their lips. His roughness nearly clicked their teeth together, and although initially taken aback by the sudden motion, Yoo Joonghyuk quickly responded with enthusiasm, filling in the blanks and making up for Kim Dokja’s overall inexperience with the intimate gesture.

God, what the hell was he doing? Kim Dokja had entered this office, fully prepared to see Yoo Joonghyuk make a show of ripping his employee file in front of him, the stamp “Dismissed” covering his ID photo in the document. But now he was engaged in a lip lock with the CEO he had been pining over for at least a year. This was a disaster. Yoo Joonghyuk had to have been attracted to him to some degree, but he didn’t get why.

The taller man bit down on Kim Dokja’s lip, and the sound that slipped out of his lips surprised him — it had not been out of pain, but rather of something more sensual. Taking the chance, Yoo Joonghyuk slotted his tongue over the shorter man’s, and out of pure spite, the secretary did not immediately yield but pressed back just as fiercely.

Did Yoo Joonghyuk like what he had to offer? Kim Dokja had to admit that he did not understand the man’s poor taste, but then again, there were worse things he could not understand about him. Like why he insisted on taking on so much when he could leave it to the workers hired for that very purpose, why the tension in his shoulders never seemed to ease no matter how much time he took off to rest at his sister’s behest, why Yoo Joonghyuk had let Kim Dokja invade his space, worming into his corner of the world like a despicable creature that only knows how to destroy everything it touches. 

Kim Dokja’s hands tightened on the front of Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirt as his thoughts ran rampant. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t seem to mind the prospect of wrinkles on his perfectly ironed top as he let those hands stay where they were just shy of hovering over his heart. The taller man’s hands gripped at Kim Dokja’s biceps, but they moved lower and lower, rubbing gentle circles into the clothed skin of his hips, already filling in after getting the treatment of full meals from Yoo Joonghyuk’s Michelin star-worthy kitchen for months, years, now.

Was Yoo Joonghyuk… lonely? Kim Dokja breathed heavily into the kiss, and his air, among other things, was swallowed up by Yoo Joonghyuk’s eager mouth. He had never even seen Yoo Joonghyuk entertain the thought of a partner, even though with his looks and skills he could easily bag a beauty just as gifted.

Could it be that because Kim Dokja was the nearest person, the most constant presence in his career – a prominent part of his life that he was attracted to him? Perhaps Yoo Joonghyuk had confused what he felt for genuine affection that boiled over into desire. As much as the thought twisted at his heart and made him want to wretch with hurt, it was the natural sort of conclusion to come to. And it did not hurt to play along with whims, to be strung along and sucked up into his orbit if Kim Dokja could get something out of it too. Namely, to keep his cushy office job and to bask in the sun of Yoo Joonghyuk’s short-lived love.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand wandered too far, and Kim Dokja had to pull away to smack at it as he felt the tips of the taller man’s fingers dig beneath the waistband of his slacks. For what it was worth, Yoo Joonghyuk pulled away immediately after that.

Heaving, slightly sweaty, and positively worked up, Kim Dokja stubbornly looked to the side as Yoo Joonghyuk leaned close to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. A small sense of satisfaction welled up inside him, but it was quickly smothered by his own self-disgust.

Yoo Joonghyuk pulled away a bit more. Kim Dokja felt his heart race as he looked at Yoo Joonghyuk’s unabashed, unapologetic smile, so bright it could power the sun for thousands then millions of years. All of his feelings on the matter paled in the face of such happiness.

“Yoo Joonghyuk-sajangnim…”

“Just Joonghyuk.”

“…Joonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja tested the syllables in his mouth. He was blinded by the expression he was shown in return. Gathering himself, Kim Dokja coughed into his fist, but could not think of anything to say. What else was there to communicate when their bodies had done all the talking?

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t seem to mind Kim Dokja's silence. He reveled in it, even, proud to have brought his cheeky secretary to speechlessness for once. The CEO let his hand fall to Kim Dokja’s cheek, cupping it gently against a big palm.

“After work today,” Yoo Joonghyuk started, “if you do not have plans, allow me to take you out for dinner.”

It was such a considerate invitation that Kim Dokja did not know how to respond at first. He had made the quip before that he would only eat with Yoo Joonghyuk if the taller man paid because the shorter was not going to do unpaid work off-the-clock and spend his salary on overpriced meals, but Yoo Joonghyuk took to that condition surprisingly well on some occasions when he felt like it. And, for this instance, the sentiment and unspoken words seemed to be the very same, suspended in the air.

I’ll pay for your food, let me take care of you.

…Kim Dokja was weak to free food. Perhaps there could be nothing better in the world, he thought, peeking at Yoo Joonghyuk’s face and admiring how it evened out into a neutral expression, but the gleam in his eyes persisted in the absence of a smile.

—

“Who are you texting?” Han Sooyoung peeked at Kim Dokja’s phone, dropping into the seat opposite him with a sulky pout when he turned away with a blush. “Your boyfriend?”

Last week, Yoo Joonghyuk had just wrapped up a long-term project that aimed to revolutionize electronics manufacturing in the country. There were many obstacles, such as discouragement from other partner companies because of how niche this branch was, but it was over, and he was still basking in the glow of another job well done. Because of this, Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja missed out on their biweekly catch-up and gossip sessions. However, since the final document was finalized, these scheduled hangouts could then resume.

Kim Dokja glared at her, mustering up as much venom as a look could allow and hoping to poison his friend with it. The coffee shop they chose was a new one, Han Sooyoung’s suggestion. “What are you, 14?”

“It doesn’t take just pure genius to write books that appeal to that demographic,” The writer shrugged and propped her chin on her clasped hands. “Though it helps.”

Han Sooyoung began to talk about a new manuscript that she had been working on, receiving little input from the reader throughout the conversation. Seeing the way Kim Dokja continued to type on his phone distractedly even though she was sitting right there, the writer reached across the table and promptly plucked it out of his hands, leaning back to avoid his furious swipes for the device.

“Hey!”

“I just wanna see what you’re so absorbed in that you’re not even showing interest when I tell you about my new work,” Han Sooyoung clicked her tongue petulantly. Her lips moved imperceptibly as she scanned the contents of his messages, and the more she read, the bigger her eyes grew. Kim Dokja covered his face in both hands, slumped over. “You are texting your boyfriend. When did this happen?!”

She slammed her hand on the table as she pointed at the reader with the one holding his phone accusingly, the sound resounding in the quiet cafe, the picture-perfect image of tactlessness. She did not even flinch at the glares stabbing into her from all sides by the other customers. 

Kim Dokja’s face burned.

“That’s none of your business,” he grinded his teeth, snatching the phone back. 

“Nuh-uh, I’m your best friend. Whatever’s yours is mine. And whatever's mine’s also mine,” Han Sooyoung proclaimed unabashedly. “Except maybe with boyfriends. You can keep this one — after you let me do a check to see if he’s clean, that is.”

“From what, crime? Or STDs?”

“You never know these days!”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes, “And you’re going to do that by, what, stalking his profile?” However, there was a grin on his lips as he spied how Han Sooyoung’s smirk was genuine. She really cared for him beneath those layers of sarcasm thicker than the layers of the earth. “Don’t bother. He doesn’t do social media.”

“That has to be a red flag of some kind. He doesn’t have a profile or he’s making excuses not to post you?” Han Sooyoung spoke with all the certainty of a person who’s never been wrong in her life. Ironic, considering they had had multiple arguments in the past because of her radical opinions.

“It’s not like that,” Kim Dokja insisted. “He’s nice to me — but he’s not my boyfriend.” They weren't exclusive, weren't really in it for the long run. They weren't really dating.

“Your messages say otherwise.” The writer raised an eyebrow, accepting the drink handed to her by the waiter who passed. Kim Dokja chewed on his paper straw as Han Sooyoung began checking off a list from her fingers. “Checking in on you in the morning and at night, sending you updates throughout his day about boring everyday things, offering to drive you home after work —“

“Which could mean nothing.”

Han Sooyoung rolled her eyes.

“If he’s not your boyfriend yet, he’s trying to be.”

Kim Dokja squinted at her and Han Sooyoung looked back with a raised brow and a look full of confidence, as if challenging her best friend to prove her wrong.

The reader sipped at the drink in his hands nervously while the writer stirred her cappuccino in thought. He tried not to think about the fact that Yoo Joonghyuk had invited him out again that night in celebration of the success of his recent project. Just the two of them — no others. Anticipation thrummed in his chest.

Lifting his head, Kim Dokja could almost hear the cogs in Han Sooyoung’s head turning as she thought, turning the problem over and over in her head to assess it from different angles. Then it clicked in her mind.

“The guy you’re seeing,” Han Sooyoung said slowly. “Does it happen to be that hot boss you kept complaining about for having a distracting face during work?”

Kim Dokja slumped in his seat.

Knockout!

“No way!” Han Sooyoung guffawed, standing up from her seat to begin slapping Kim Dokja violently on the shoulder in what was supposed to be congratulatory. “I don’t get it, but I also totally do. I thought you said he wasn’t interested in seeing anyone?”

“That’s the thing though, we aren’t dating…”

“But you go on dates? ” Han Sooyoung’s face captioned, ‘what the hell are you talking about’. But then she waved her hand as she began to speak.

“He doesn’t explicitly state that, but you do have most of not all your meals together,” the writer continued matter-of-factly, “Which is saying a lot because you either don’t eat or like to squirrel away while you do because people rightfully judge you for eating kimbap every day for every meal – before he started making lunch for you, that is.”

“It’s not like that,” Kim Dokja bemoaned for the umpteenth time, but Han Sooyoung only scoffed at him. 

“No, really,” Kim Dokja wildly gesticulated. “He’s just confused. He hasn’t seen anyone since he took up the mantle of CEO and the closest taste of romance that he got was from that scandal with the genius surgeon at the start of his career. I’m the nearest person to him at all times, so it’s easier for him to attach himself to me.”

Han Sooyoung facepalmed. It seemed as though she was barely holding back from insulting him or leaping across her seat and assaulting him.

“Dokja,” she muttered darkly. “You two are grown, independent 27-year-old men.”

Kim Dokja rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t help but use that kind of explanation when it came to his boss. That guy was so self-sufficient, but basic needs such as appropriate sleeping hours and breaks did not seem to exist for him (rich coming from a guy who allowed himself neither of those things.) At least with Kim Dokja around, he was more reasonable and took more time off of work.

Kim Dokja pensively sipped at his coffee. Every time he thought of Yoo Joonghyuk, conflicting emotions rose in his chest, threatening to bubble over. The taste of the drink felt bitter, more so than usual. He could barely see the woman in front of him who seemed both angry yet pleading as she looked at him. It was in these times that she seemed old, much older than she appeared.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Kim Dokja. You’re- you’re not a placeholder, damn it.”

Kim Dokja smiled. 

“So, how's the sequel to WOS coming along?”

Han Sooyoung would allow the topic to change, but her sharp eyes lingered on his face. “Yah, I told you, I’m not writing that trash anymore…”

—

Kim Dokja was convinced that one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hobbies was dropping into his office to say his bit about any matter he desired and then leave without allowing Kim Dokja any room to refuse or offer a response in return. Numerous times now, Yoo Joonghyuk had come by his office —  not the other way around — and, for example, told Kim Dokja to rearrange his schedule to accommodate a sudden visit from his sister and/or tell him to clear out his schedule next Tuesday for a reservation at a high-end restaurant in the same breath.

Dating Yoo Joonghyuk felt like swimming at the beach with high-rising tides. He could only hope to grab desperately at any price of driftwood to regain balance, but in the end, he’ll find himself swept up into that man’s world and decisions anyway. 

Kim Dokja was stuck pondering the ethics of faking his own death and running away from both his well-paying job (that he will not go through with) and the ambiguous relationship he found himself entangled in while burning the midnight oil doing OT. It turns out that, even if you were romantically involved with the CEO of a big corporation, you were not exempt from grueling amounts of work late into the night. Everyone on his floor had all but left at this point, and other than the security guard at the gate, he was probably the only one left. Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t in office that day.

Kim Dokja turned the page of his reference book, blinking heavily as the words seemed to blur together. All of a sudden, the door to his office burst open, and oh look, Kim Dokja’s heart is on the floor – as is the metal knob, once attached to the aforementioned door. How did that happen?

Looking at his metaphorical heart that he spat out in his shock, Kim Dokja dragged his dreary eyes up at the person who had just rudely sauntered into his office, only to be met with the shadow of an all-too-familiar face.

A defined jawline with the sharpness that could cut paper, accentuated by full, natural lips shaped like Cupid’s bow. Dark, stormy eyes under brows that perfectly arched like the crescent moon on the first days of the month. Floaty locks of raven hair accessorized by a pair of sunglasses on the crown of that perfectly symmetrical face. This person, a long-haired woman, was dressed in the hottest designer pieces from G■cci, her bag from Ch■nel.

The owner of such luxuries’s expression was scrutinizing, her eyes scanning his every movement like a shark sniffing out blood in the water, or a teacher prowling in a classroom, hoping to catch a student violating academic integrity.

Compared to this Greek goddess, Kim Dokja looked like he crawled out of hell with his crinkled uniform and messy hair that he had run his hand through more than 10 times during the night, his tie discarded and hanging off the edge of his table and the haphazardly placed documents there; he looked and felt like a mess. In his defense, his (now empty) 4th cup of coffee the entire day was acting as a paperweight and he still had at least a few hours of work to do before he could even entertain the thought of getting on the last train home — if he could finish before then.

He need not ask who this crass woman who had just ambled into his room was and how she got past security because the answer was obvious.  “So,” Yoo Mia drawled critically in a clear voice, “you are the man who’s been seeing my Oppa.”

As the secretary and long-time worker at BTSS, he knew some things about the Yoo family’s way of operation. Typically, the Yoo children would be educated from a young age to become business leaders and come into the company’s inheritance, but since Mr and Mrs Yoo’s passing, the scarcely young adult Yoo Joonghyuk took to working harder, then fully taking hold of all of the branches of BTSS Electronics in and out of Korea, stepping up as the youngest Chairman in the field within the country by the time he was in was 20.

Uneducated folks would think that he did this to ensure his family’s extensive inheritance went to him and only him, but people not in the dark would know that Yoo Joonghyuk loved his sister, Yoo Mia, more than anything, and he would not let her suffer through the difficulties in the field of trade so long as he was alive. Yoo Mia was free to do whatever she wanted with Yoo Joonghyuk’s support when he took over the company, and in the end, she chose to go into modeling. Her face, seemingly cut from the most glorious of marbles, was perfect for the job.

In all the years he’d worked under Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja had met Yoo Mia a total of three times. Her reputation made it so that she was always fully booked for magazine shoots or runway shows as a star all across the globe, and he was not one to intrude on heartfelt sibling reunions when she did come around. 

From all the times he had met Yoo Mia, Kim Dokja had not gotten a single chance to speak one-on-one with her, though it wasn’t like he would ever want that. Although she would invariably have a soft look on her face that was a thousand times more expressive than her brother when they conversed, that warm gaze was nowhere to be seen when she was looking down at Kim Dokja (literally and figuratively, towering before him with crossed arms whilst he was seated.)

He was fixed with a stare so cold he could have died ten times over, but he had also been glared at by Yoo Joonghyuk just as if not more fiercely throughout his entire time here, so he grew (outward) immunity.

With a polite but slightly terrified-for-his-life smile, Kim Dokja greeted, “Yoo Mia-ssi,” he glanced at the busted doorknob to his office on the floor mournfully. Was that the point she was going to make? “What brings you to my humble office this time of the night?”

Yoo Mia stared at him — dragged her eyes all across the space. Then, “it’s humble, alright.”

…Brat. He was still older than her by almost a decade!

“Can I help you?” Kim Dokja pressed on despite his offense.

“I just wanted to put a face on the man my brother has been so smitten about,” Yoo Mia responded. He noted that, when she spoke about Yoo Joonghyuk, her gaze lowered with worry and care. It was a likeness that was not unfamiliar. “It turns out that he ended up dating his secretary. I’m not one to judge, but is this really professional?”

That was what he was thinking! Kim Dokja chuckled wryly instead of offering a verbal response. Yoo Mia readjusted the strap of the handbag on her shoulder. Then, she leaned over his table and braced herself on the mahogany with both hands, staring him down and using an intimidation tactic that he had only ever seen in predators on animal documentaries.

“I don’t know what your intention with my brother is, but if I find out that it is one as shallow as going for his money…” Yoo Mia spoke slowly, making sure he heard every word enunciated perfectly in her threatening tone, “I assure you, there would be no company or apartment that wouldn’t have you blacklisted in Korea when I’m done with you.”

The threat would have had more impact if Kim Dokja had not seen Yoo Joonghyuk’s photo frame of Yoo Mia wearing mouse ears at D■sneyland in 2016 with a matching polka dot skirt on his work table. He tried his best to will the image away, but the memory of her toothy grin into the camera seemed burnt into his retinas at that point.

Kim Dokja nodded a little meekly, but when he realized that wasn’t an adequate answer, he expanded, “I’m not with Yoo Joonghyuk for that. I just want to see him happy.” 

— which is true. Kim Dokja did want to see the man happy, and he knew that he could offer a sliver of it if he stayed, even though he was not particularly thrilled about it on account of the fact that it would not have a positive long-term effect on his heart when it inevitably falls apart.

And also, he was, in a way, after Yoo Joonghyuk’s money. To be paid his monthly salary.

Yoo Mia, although tense at first when she first busted down his door, relaxed minutely at his response. She straightened up, then spared him another long, meaningful look.

“I don’t know what he sees in you, but if he’s happy then…” she seemed a tad bit vulnerable. “I’m happy too.”

First of all, ouch — but same. Second of all, does this mean he was off the hook?

Yoo Mia dusted off her hands (his desk was not that dirty…) Then, she nodded affirmatively to herself after finishing her nth visual reassessment of Kim Dokja. 

“Good talk,” she said with a note of finality, closing the door as she left but vehemently ignoring the fact the knob was lying sadly on the floor. Her hair swished behind her as she turned toward the elevator. 

Kim Dokja returned to his work with renewed vigor to fantasize about his life with a new identity on a sunny beach in Jeju. And if that was too close, still, to Yoo Joonghyuk, Hawaii.

—

The birds did not chirp outside the window, nor was there sunlight streaming through the filter of leaves. But it sure felt just as romantic lying in Yoo Joonghyuk’s bed, wrapped up in his arms.

Kim Dokja snuggled deeper into the comfortable duvet, a million times better than the poor excuse of a mattress he had in his apartment. There was nothing that could top a bed with a thread count of at least over 400. The weather felt especially chilly that morning, and not just because of the approaching winter. He pulled the blanket higher and over his bare shoulders.

“Are you up?” Yoo Joonghyuk murmured, warm breath fanning Kim Dokja’s comparatively colder neck. The shorter man nodded lightly and was rewarded with a kiss to his nape, a kind of affection freely given.

“Did I wake you?” Kim Dokja found himself asking back, voice reduced to a whisper. There was no one to disturb now that they were both awake, but he found himself doing so just to preserve the atmosphere of peace and tranquility. 

“No,” Yoo Joonghyuk hummed, pressing himself closer with a content sigh. “I’ve been up for a while.”

Kim Dokja felt particularly bare like this, with the tips of his toes grazing Yoo Joonghyuk’s naked calf, usually covered by his expensive slacks, held so close they might as well be one. After last night, though, perhaps they already were in Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind.

“I’ll make breakfast. Your spare clothes are in the bottom left drawer.” Yoo Joonghyuk left a fleeting kiss on Kim Dokja’s forehead as he got up. Kim Dokja leaned into the gesture and felt the lips gracing his skin curl.

After Yoo Joonghyuk left, Kim Dokja let himself sink into the comfortable bed for a few more minutes. It was a stark difference from the one he owned at home, and he thought that it would not hurt to cherish it for a little while longer since it might be the last chance he could get.

Moments later, Kim Dokja finally rose out of bed like an awakening dragon with the stability of a newborn fawn. He walked to the shower, cleaning himself and making good use of the appliances in Yoo Joonghyuk’s bathroom — the hot water doing wonders for his sore muscles. He brushed his teeth with the spare white toothbrush in Yoo Joonghyuk’s cup where he kept his own, predictably black, like most of the things he owned. Afterward, he changed into proper clothes, smelling like the taller man with his fresh shampoo, and left for the kitchen, guided by the alluring and promising smell of a gourmet breakfast.

Yoo Joonghyuk was standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes with the mastery of someone belonging to a cooking show as head chef. He looked especially delectable under the natural glow of sunlight coming from the glass wall, but that might be a less sensible part of Kim Dokja commenting; as, after all, the taller man wasn’t wearing a shirt but only a pair of sweats. Kim Dokja suspected that because had stayed over, the man skipped his morning jog that morning. He took a seat, waiting like a king for Yoo Joonghyuk to finish.

Kim Dokja yawned, wiping away the tears that sprung to his eyes before propping his elbows on the table and resting his face on his hands. There was a sense of domesticity in the situation, a day-to-day feeling of normalcy in how Kim Dokja watched Yoo Joonghyuk cook for them both, undoubtedly going to extend another invite to drive him to work later – one that Kim Dokja would refuse if it was the last thing he could do. They couldn't normalize this kind of routine; even if they had an ambiguous relationship that allowed them to trample on any semblance of personal boundary.

When the pancakes and fruits were placed down in front of Kim Dokja, he smiled brightly and thanked Yoo Joonghyuk, all but starving. All of the things he had been thinking of could be discussed later, he should still savor the benefits he got while he still could. The taller man wordlessly pressed a kiss to Kim Dokja’s temple, rendering him speechless for a second or two while he took a seat next to Kim Dokja with his own plate of food. He was quiet this morning, mellow and calm, so unlike his domineering presence at work that demanded attention everywhere he went.

Like this, dressed down and comfortable in his own home with his cheeks stuffed full of his cooking, Yoo Joonghyuk looked… normal — like any other person going through life. Kim Dokja cut the soft, fluffy delight and ate quietly, mind in overdrive to think of topics to fill the silence. Yoo Joonghyuk did not seem to mind the quietude — he never did, but with Kim Dokja, he didn’t seem to mind idle chatter either.

Finishing up, Yoo Joonghyuk took the plates and took to cleaning. Kim Dokja would have offered to do it if he could be trusted with the task since the last time he broke a plate doing so. He resolved to help Yoo Joonghyuk dry the tableware with a towel instead. It was safer for them this way, and at least he was not barred from doing this.

Wiping down the second plate, Kim Dokja looked at Yoo Joonghyuk’s soapy hands as he scrubbed at the pan. Then, he was snapped out of his trance as Yoo Joonghyuk offered, just as predicted, “I’ll take you to work.”

But Kim Dokja had rehearsed the answer to this question at least five times while he was in Yoo Joonghyuk’s shower, so he dismissed the suggestion easily, “No need. I don’t have my suit and tie here, I can’t come to work looking like this.” The words went unsaid: I need to go back.

“You do, though,” Yoo Joonghyuk only said simply.

“What?” Kim Dokja stared, face carefully blank. 

“You do have your suit and tie here,” Yoo Joonghyuk repeated, clarifying while he was at it. He shook the water off his non-stick pan and handed it to Kim Dokja to wipe while he dried his hands. “The last time we did overtime, you stayed over at my apartment after dinner. It was also because the AC at your apartment was broken. You went back to your place to get a clean suit the next morning, but forgot your old clothes here while you were wearing mine.”

Fuck. Did he do that? He didn’t even remember what he was doing, because time didn’t seem to exist linearly when he was with Yoo Joonghyuk. Suddenly, the thought of sunny Hawaiian beaches seemed more appealing than usual.

“I cleaned it,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, delivering death like a harbinger. “It’s in my wardrobe.”

Tucked into the spare cabinet, because of course, it is. It was there, like how some of Kim Dokja’s clothes were there, and like how there was Kim Dokja’s unofficial toothbrush in Yoo Joonghyuk’s bathroom.

The devil spared Kim Dokja a single look.

“I’ll take you to work.” And that was final.

Damn it. Why did it feel like he just got tricked? This would be the nth time he failed to weasel out of Yoo Joonghyuk driving him to work. Kim Dokja would get him next time. He exhaled heavily. 

The shorter man dried the pan faster in his exasperation and went to put the wares in their designated cabinets without a word. He was too mad to muster up anything to say to the infuriating bastard he worked for.

Still standing at the sink, now with dry hands, Yoo Joonghyuk smirked a little to himself.

—

The news of his and Yoo Joonghyuk’s precarious arrangement reached the rest of the office’s ears in no time at all, because privacy was a myth within these walls. He could only get away with being caught exiting the same car as the Chairman so many times before rumors started to spread and people began to play detective.

Somehow, he felt like he was in the dark about something, not unlike the last to get the inside joke in a group when he got claps on the back by almost every ahjussi and handshakes by his peers in the company as though he was to credit for their recent successful exploit.

Yoo Sangah had an almost teary expression on her face as she held both of his hands in her own, saying something about how “happy she was that he found his happiness” and that “it was a long time coming and she’s so glad Yoo Joonghyuk finally decided to be honest with his feelings”… 

He thought that, of all people, Yoo Sangah would be able to understand. After all, she had been there with BTSS from the very start as one of the first workers hired when Yoo Joonghyuk took up the seat of Chairman. However, she seemed to have the same misconception as everyone else that their relationship was something serious.

Kim Dokja could live with people misunderstanding him; the secretary had first-hand experience with it growing up. But like this, with Yoo Sangah practically trembling with emotion in the empty break room, still holding onto him, Kim Dokja felt it was too cruel to lie to her face, it would be an injustice to their friendship. So, he was frank with her.

“We’re not dating.” Kim Dokja said plainly. He did not understand what the harsh twinge that emerged in his chest was, but he stubbornly ignored it.

“You’re— you’re not?”

“No, we’re not,” Kim Dokja flashed a rueful smile. Her hands went slack under his, eyes turning calculating. The man took this opportunity to withdraw his from her grip. “I’m just keeping him company for now.”

“‘Keeping him company?’” Yoo Sangah echoed. “‘For now’— Dokja-ssi, did Yoo Joonghyuk-sajangnim not tell you how he felt?”

Oh, he did, alright. He showed, as well. “…he did. But he’s just confused. He doesn’t really like me.”

There was suddenly empathy in the way Yoo Sangah looked at him. It was much too similar to pity — an emotion Kim Dokja hated to be on the receiving end of.

“Why do you think that, Dokja-ssi?” She asked softly. He didn’t know what for; to spare his feelings?

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Kim Dokja let out a dry chuckle. “Joonghyuk-ah’s only keeping me around because I’m of use to him as a secretary, and because I don’t mind his presence and personality and can stay around him all the time.”

Yoo Sangah’s stare was searching, meaningful, making Kim Dokja feel awkward and breaking eye contact. Why had all the people whom he talked to about this looked at him that way? Like they want to dig deeper at his inner thoughts or were imploring him to introspect. The secretary had done that enough by himself without prompting from others, and he knew that whatever Yoo Joonghyuk was looking for in a lover, he could not find it in Kim Dokja. If Yoo Joonghyuk was perfection personified, that left Kim Dokja on the other end of the spectrum, that of a person built and founded on mistakes, misfortune, and misunderstandings.

“You addressed our CEO with a personal honorific,” Yoo Sangah smiled lightly, “Isn’t that telling enough what he really feels — the fact he allows it?”

Kim Dokja blushed under Yoo Sangah’s knowing gaze. “He insisted,” he refuted weakly. 

Yoo Sangah patted him on the back of the hand. She had become a close confidante in all the time they had known each other. It was surely fate, how unlikely their meetings should be, and yet they kept running into each other anyway. Kim Dokja was glad to be able to count her among his closest friends even with the misunderstanding between them. It was why her advice shook him:

“I don’t think there’s anything I can say that might help you change your mind. It’s not something that can happen overnight, but I hope one day you’ll allow it to.” Yoo Sangah said cryptically. “Until then, won’t you keep an open mind?”

Kim Dokja nodded slowly. Just then, the alarm on his phone rang, marking the end of their lunch break. Yoo Joonghyuk was out of office that day, away on a business trip. With him gone, Kim Dokja didn’t get to eat his usual prepped lunchboxes, and he was starting to miss the taste (and the look in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes when he showed his appreciation.)

Yoo Sangah bid him goodbye, still giving him a look he felt his skin crawl at, and both of them left for their respective stations. Kim Dokja had just opened the door to his office, stepping in, when he suddenly received a message, the vibration in his phone making him jolt. It was Yoo Joonghyuk.

🐡 Boss 🐡

>> Have you eaten?

>> I hope you haven’t been skipping. You’re already skinny as it is.

me

I already did, don’t worry. <<

Kim Dokja contemplated ending the conversation there, but he saw the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s chat bubble kept popping up and disappearing, like he was continuously backspacing his answers. After a moment, he finally settled on:

🐡 Boss 🐡

>> Good.

>> Daejeon is chilly this time of year. It’ll start snowing soon in Seoul as well.

There was a pause. Kim Dokja didn’t respond while he waited for Yoo Joonghyuk’s next message.

🐡 Boss 🐡

>> Make sure to bundle up. I’ll be back before Christmas.

me

Yes, sir. <<

He paused, then grinned as he typed, not allowing Yoo Joonghyuk even a few seconds to register his previous message.

me

You don’t have to micromanage me over text too, you know. I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself. <<

Kim Dokja allowed himself this moment of cheekiness, but not getting to see Yoo Joonghyuk’s only gave him half the usual amount of satisfaction. He tried not to dwell on the implications of such a thought. 

The message thing happened again as Yoo Joonghyuk thought of what to say. Kim Dokja settled into his office chair and laughed to himself at the mental image that he conjured of his boss furiously thinking of what insult fit best to say to Kim Dokja.

Finally, after several long moments, the man received a reply:

🐡 Boss 🐡

>> I’ll make omurice when I get back.

Kim Dokja placed his phone, screen-first, down on the table, far away from reach. 

He didn’t know what to say – couldn’t think of what was appropriate to offer in return without spilling his heart out until he was empty and heaving without the weight in his chest that he had been carrying since he was a child. Kim Dokja left Yoo Joonghyuk on seen, offering placative acknowledgment.

—

Christmas brought with it flashy decorations, thoughtful gifts if you have thoughtful companions, an overabundance of snow everywhere, and a lot more deadlines. Everyone and their grandmother were rushing to finish their tasks before New Year's, and Christmas just happened to land near that time, making it more of a milestone to reach than an independent holiday for some white-collared workers. 

Nonetheless, Kim Dokja counted himself as one of the lucky ones to have finished all of his work for the year before the time came. As a secretary, his workload depended on how much his boss took on, and because Yoo Joonghyuk was a raging workaholic, the worst of it was already over — he made sure of it. After all, he promised to be back for Kim Dokja before Christmas.

In the early morning of the 23rd of December, Chairman Yoo Joonghyuk landed at Incheon International Airport. In the following 10 minutes, he was picked up by his secretary Kim Dokja. He was well-rested on the plane and used most of the time he was in the air to sleep, but just in case of jet lag, Kim Dokja drove. Sometime later, Yoo Joonghyuk was back in the office.

The man worked like a machine sometimes, Kim Dokja sighed. Even if it was not as difficult as the things he was handling on his business trip, getting right back to work after getting off the plane was a bit much. At the very least, he kept his word and made Kim Dokja the best omurice he had had to date that same night.

The following day was just as mundane, and Christmas Day itself even more so, up until the clock struck 5 PM, that is. Kim Dokja almost felt a little bad as he left the office hand in hand with the CEO Yoo Joonghyuk while his co-workers had to stay behind to finish up work before they could leave. 

Wrapped up in a matching scarf and coat as Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja felt his nose and ears burn from the cold air nipping at his skin. He was half-focused on the feeling he got from Yoo Joonghyuk’s palm — he had never known that another’s touch could bring such warmth.

“Where are we headed?” Kim Dokja found himself asking as he got into the shotgun seat of Yoo Joonghyuk’s car, fastening his seatbelt. The man backed up the vehicle, making a perfect turn as he ascended from the company’s underground parking lot. “I can wait if it’s a secret.”

Kim Dokja’s smile turned knowing as he eyed the heat that gathered on the tips of Yoo Joonghyuk’s ears. He was caught red-handed — or eared, if one would prefer. The taller man imperceptibly nodded once.

Uncaring of the lack of a verbal response, Kim Dokja found himself quieting down and enjoying the ride as they drove past streets blanketed with layers of snow, complementing the festive and cheery atmosphere. Pedestrians were wrapped up in thick coats and their favorite articles of winterwear, while some souls braved the cold in the name of fashion. They were severely underdressed for the weather but all too happy for the good photos they got wherein they would not be drowning in their own jackets.

Kim Dokja snuck a glance at the side of Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. He was focused on the road, because as confident as he was in his own driving, he dared not ‘risk an accident over something so silly as lack of attention’. Kim Dokja clicked his tongue. Some people were just too incessant even when they were completely capable, but he found that it was not a bad look on Yoo Joonghyuk, because nothing, if it was Yoo Joonghyuk, could be bad. Before long, they had arrived at their destination, only held back by traffic for a modest 15 or 20 minutes, which was not too bad considering it was Christmas. 

He drove to the Seoul City Hall’s underground parking lot where they could barely find a spot to leave the car in, but managed after doing a few rounds around the area. There was one obvious place to head to at this time of year, and it was the Seoul Plaza. When they got there, Kim Dokja observed the place from top to bottom. The crowd was diverse with people from all walks of life, and there was a sense of community in their purposes of being here; to share in the seasonal joy and enjoy time with their loved ones with hot beverages and gift bags in hand. 

From the crowd, a hand shot out to grab onto his forearm, and Kim Dokja almost crashed into that warm body when they pulled him towards them. However, when his cheek collided with stiff muscles, the shorter man laughed, readjusting their positions to hold onto the perpetrator’s gloved palm properly. He looked up and into Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, momentarily taken aback by the intensity reflected in them before he was dragged forward and forced to walk along. It felt like the gaps between his fingers were made for another’s to slot theirs in between.

Up ahead, there were thousands of twinkling lights, like stars in the sky creating constellations where they shone. The stalls and street vendors were adorned with matching decorations all leading down one wide pathway. Even with the brisk cold enveloping most of his senses, Kim Dokja could still smell the wafting scent of food — roasted chestnuts, hot chocolate, German sausages, gingerbread cookies, and pretzels were on display, alongside traditional Korean street food.

Kim Dokja knew just how much Yoo Joonghyuk disliked eating food made by others, worse, food that he couldn’t be sure was hygienic. But it was Christmas, and there were no better occasions as the year was ending to make bad decisions to regret later.

The man rewarded himself with various snacks to savor and made Yoo Joonghyuk at least sample the things he bought in the spirit of the holiday. The hesitant and constipated look on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face as he was force-fed a bite of sausage was one Kim Dokja would never forget. The taller man had swallowed with great difficulty, then slammed the money down on the vendor’s counter and promptly dragged Kim Dokja away from the food stalls.

It wasn’t so bad not getting to eat more. After all, Kim Dokja was allowed to use Yoo Joonghyuk’s card to buy all manners of trinkets and souvenirs. Snowglobes with the engravings “Christmas 2024” on them, intricate wooden carvings that would go well on Yoo Joonghyuk’s shelf, even a pair of reindeer antlers headband that could be lit up that Kim Dokja bought for shits and giggles. Most of them would go to his friends, but he would keep some of the goods to himself. Namely…

With a heavy but resigned sigh, Yoo Joonghyuk leaned down and let Kim Dokja put the headband on him. He looked absolutely ridiculous with the thing on his head, symmetrical branching prongs extended from the crown he wore. Kim Dokja could not resist snapping a photo and quickly making it his wallpaper when Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t looking.

Tracing their steps down the path, the two men were hand in hand, stopping before the big pine tree erected in the middle of the road. Surrounding it were empty present boxes of varying sizes and colors, made to be decorative, just like the lights and ornaments hanging off the branches of that tree. The star on top shone brightly, and Kim Dokja couldn’t help the appreciative sigh he let out at the beautiful sight. This situation felt like it was ripped out of one of Han Sooyoung’s books, a romantic subplot that would derail the entire narrative if she hadn’t put a stop to it. He squeezed the hand in his unknowingly.

Yoo Joonghyuk turned to him with a questioning look, his expression slightly pinched. Kim Dokja blinked at him, then smiled, but a gleam did not bounce off his eyes. “Don’t frown so much, Joonghyuk-ah. Your face will get stuck like that,” he poked the skin between the taller man’s two brows. “You just have to humor me for a while with the antlers. It’s your duty as my…”

Kim Dokja paused. Yoo Joonghyuk was giving him that look again, a probing, profound look. There wasn’t anything he could hope to hide when face-to-face with that gaze, so his eyes flickered away in escape.

“I’m really craving some tteokbokki right now,” Kim Dokja said, refusing to acknowledge the glare to the side of his face. “I ate too much European earlier, and you dragged me away before I could get any.”

“It’s not good for you.”

Kim Dokja looked at Yoo Joonghyuk. The man looked out of place with the crowd, out of place by his side. He smiled ruefully, “I know.”

—

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that this was a good place to orchestrate a murder,” Kim Dokja snickered at the glare Yoo Joonghyuk threw him over his shoulder as they trekked up the steps to the top of Namsan Tower. “No one would know if it was an accident. You can hardly see anything up here.”

Kim Dokja was no tourist, but he was never fortunate enough to get the chance to visit the attraction when he was young. Yoo Joonghyuk must have gotten inspiration from his offhanded statement saying as such a few weeks back, which is why he decided it was a good place to go after their trip to the market. 

It was late by then, perhaps near midnight. Kim Dokja hadn’t checked his phone since he clocked out of work with his boss’s hand in his, so he had no way of knowing for sure. The shorter man patted down the inside of his coat pocket and let out a relieved sigh at the weight still tucked deep inside. 

It was unexpectedly sparse of people when they made it to the top. There was barely anyone around, and most of whom were there were couples. It made sense; there was little one could see at this time of day this high up, even with the lights from the buildings and decorations winking at them below the ledge. Yoo Joonghyuk made sure to steer clear away from the other pairings, giving them privacy.

Kim Dokja exhaled as he absently gazed downwards. It was cold enough just being this elevated on the chilliest day of the month, but seeing the darkness below his feet made it feel slightly nauseating. One wrong step and he would be gone.

With difficulty, he dragged his gaze back to Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. There were lights, of course, but they were dim enough that they only licked at the dips of the man’s face, highlighting his more prominent features — such as those eyes, slightly downcasted, before his head lifted to look at Kim Dokja. Suddenly, he felt bigger hands curl over his knuckles, holding him in place.

“…You’re not going to push me off, are you?” Kim Dokja laughed, relishing in his reward of a handsome death glare. 

“Shut up.”

“Come on, Joonghyuk-ah. I’m afraid of heights, you know? This is a really cruel way to go.” His tone was teasing, and he slightly tugged his hands back to no avail. Kim Dokja’s smile faltered when he spied Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression.

“…I didn’t know.”

Yoo Joonghyuk looked hurt. Hurt like Kim Dokja had never seen him, had never dared to imagine him being. Hurt, like Kim Dokja had been trying to keep him from feeling this entire time they kept up this charade of a ‘real’ relationship.

It surprised no one; Kim Dokja ruined things — just by being there, just by opening his big mouth.

“Hey. Don’t feel bad,” Kim Dokja assuaged, stepping close. He would have patted those soft locks to comfort Yoo Joonghyuk, but his hands were shackled right now. “I never told you. It’s not a big deal.”

“You should have,” Yoo Joonghyuk said somberly. Kim Dokja yelped when he was pulled along, their positions changing. He was still facing Yoo Joonghyuk, but the latter’s back was to the railing, obscuring Kim Dokja’s vision ahead. He couldn’t watch the city below even if he wanted to. The man continued, “I want to know these things. I want to learn what makes you happy, what you’re sensitive to. I want to know how you feel about things, if you have a particular smell you like, a particular show.”

Kim Dokja’s breath shuddered with every nearly unobtrusive brush of Yoo Joonghyuk’s thumb over the back of his hand. He felt ill. 

“I like learning more about you as we go. But I also want to be told things.” Yoo Joonghyuk spoke softly, so soft you would not think this was the same man who fired an entire folder of employees because they had made a small, easily avoidable mistake at work. Conversely, Kim Dokja did not believe the man who could not sleep without cuddling something, whether it be him or a pillow, was Yoo Joonghyuk either. But then he’d open his eyes and kiss Kim Dokja good morning with a rumbly voice and look, there he was — Yoo Joonghyuk.

“You don’t really want to know those things about me,” Kim Dokja found himself saying before he could bite his traitorous tongue off. And, because a traitor already would have already taken that irreversible step, it continued without regard to anyone else, “It’s easier when I go along with whatever you want, moldable into something desirable.”

He was being fixed that scrutinizing stare again, full of emotions he could not name. Kim Dokja didn’t know a lot of things, but not knowing Yoo Joonghyuk was not one of them. This feeling, when he looked into Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes and felt a bottomless abyss of uncertainty, felt like he was being cast out of that world he had gotten a taste of and didn’t know how to rehabilitate himself when it would inevitably disappear.

“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk seemed torn between furious and sad, his gaze having mellowed into Kim Dokja could pick out and understand. “Don’t tell me what you think I should and should not do.”

“That’s why you hired me, though, remember?” Kim Dokja smiled, an unfortunate expression. “I’m your secretary. The person who picks you up when you’re lost. I’m just as in charge of you as you are of me. You listen just fine when I tell you to go to this and that meeting, why is this where you draw the line?”

Yoo Joonghyuk worked his jaw, and Kim Dokja slightly winced at the tightening over his hands. In his defense, Kim Dokja really did mean to give Yoo Joonghyuk well-meaning advice; it was hard on the both of them to continue this arrangement. In the long term, it would be of no good when Yoo Joonghyuk realized that Kim Dokja lacked what he had been looking for and fired him to save face. Kim Dokja would lose his main source of income, and he’d regret letting this go on for longer than it should have. It was for the better that they returned to the prior status quo before that. This relationship wasn’t a good look on either of them.

“You fool,” Yoo Joonghyuk squeezed his hands so tightly they might come off. Was he imagining it was his neck? “You’re not just my secretary. You are… my companion.”

“Is that the word we’re using now?”

“Would you rather I used ‘boyfriend’?”

Kim Dokja’s nose wrinkled in distaste. Touché. But it didn’t change anything. 

Kim Dokja didn’t want to lose this, but he knew better than to hold onto a lost cause. You’d let someone go if you lo… something like that.

“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk tried again. “Whatever idiotic mental image or hypothetical situation you have going in your head, it’s not real.

The Yoo Joonghyuk you have in your head isn’t real.” Kim Dokja’s eyes shook. He exhaled, and his breath condensed into a cloud of mist in front of him, obscuring Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. When it cleared, it felt like something else did, too. “ I am.”

A laugh bubbled out from Kim Dokja’s chest.

“I know you are, Joonghyuk.”

“Then you should know the real me doesn’t act according to anyone’s expectations.”

“…right.”

Yoo Joonghyuk sighed at the look in his eyes. The warmth over Kim Dokja’s hands left, and it felt like being woken up from a dream. Yoo Joonghyuk dug into the inner pockets of his coat, pulling out a small box that fit snugly in the palm of his hand.

Kim Dokja might have stopped breathing.

“Don’t overthink it, fool.” Yoo Joonghyuk grunted. If Kim Dokja really looked at him, he might have seen the red-tinted ears. The taller man opened the box, revealing a simple silver band. It was so unremarkable, so simple, but it felt so much grander than any jewel at that moment. Held so much weight, too.

“Yoo Joonghyuk, I don’t—“

“I’m not asking that of you,” Yoo Joonghyuk grunted. He pulled off Kim Dokja’s glove, frowning at the faint tremor, then slid the band on his left ring finger. “Yet.”

Kim Dokja laughed shakily.

“If you needed a reminder that what I feel for you is real, then you can look at that.” Yoo Joonghyuk explained, looking to the side. “There’s nothing certain in our futures. I don’t know the fate of BTSS, or when I’ll inevitably get tired of this work.

But one thing that will always be clear to me is my care for you, Dokja,” it felt especially cold beneath the shorter man’s eyes, more than any other part on his body. Funny, because he was standing at a height of almost 500 meters in the air with one ungloved hand.

He dared himself to look up at the man in front of him. Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze was lowered, a small frown pulling at his lips, his left brow twitching. Kim Dokja barely held himself back from flinching away when he felt a featherlight caress over the metal band on his hand. “This is my Christmas present for you. A promise to stay by your side for as long as I live.”

He looked into those beautiful brown eyes he’d come to see in everything he loved,

“I love you, Kim Dokja.”

He could suddenly put a name to the reason it felt so cold beneath his eyes. After all, what the streams suddenly pouring from his eyes were were unmistakable. The ugly sob, too.

Yoo Joonghyuk jolted. He looked like a genuine deer with headlights now, just that the lights on his headband weren’t on. Right, he didn’t take that off before he dragged Kim Dokja here, did he?

“Y-You bastard,” Kim Dokja wiped his face, harshly pulling his hand away. He couldn’t bear to be looked at right now. With how badly he was masking his crying, he wouldn’t be surprised if all the other people on Namsan Tower were staring him down with judgment. “You usually ask for permission for things like that, you know? I should have a say, too.”

Yoo Joonghyuk brushed his cheek with a finger, then his entire palm encased the side of the shorter man’s face as he wiped away the tears that kept returning with a vengeance. “You do have a say. It’s ‘yes’.”

Kim Dokja snorted. He should have never left communicating to this bastard. He’s so bad at this stuff — Kim Dokja’s usually the one who deals with negotiations anyway because he’s so brutish talking to other people that he scares clients away at every turn. The man should ask for a raise, really, this is way above his pay grade.

Still, as Yoo Joonghyuk took to brushing his fingers beneath his eyes, Kim Dokja was all too aware that all of this was a poor excuse at communicating; that sort of thing was a two-way street. Kim Dokja thought that even if he did something, Yoo Joonghyuk would not get it. But maybe he knew and understood that, because Yoo Joonghyuk embraced Kim Dokja unapologetically and without words.

Kim Dokja had to swallow the weight of anvils in his throat before he even dared to open his mouth. He pushed Yoo Joonghyuk away and kept his hands on the man’s shoulder, beginning to speak.

“… I can’t stand the smell of plastic. It’s why I hate most cars — because they smell leathery and just, bad. But I like yours, because you keep it clean and the entire car is scented like pineapple.” 

His mouth closed. The surprise in Yoo Joonghyuk’s irises morphed into keenness, urging him to go on, so he did.

“I don’t really have a particular smell I like. I like your shampoo and your cologne though, so I guess you can say I like more citrusy-flavored things,” he blushed, avoiding Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze. There was a light brush against his upper back beneath the fabric of his scarf — the taller’s doing.

“I don’t watch shows. I just read spoilers about them online, which is why I know most of the references when others bring them up, but I don’t know the finer details.” He took a break to suck in the air he felt had all but been pushed out of his lungs. “I prefer reading, as is the name on the tin. Web novels, especially.”

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded at him. Kim Dokja felt wide open, like the space inside his ribs were hollow, safe for his still beating heart, too loud for him to ignore.

“And why are you afraid of heights, Dokja?”

Kim Doja took a deep breath and answered,

“When I was 15, I tried to take my own life by jumping off the rooftop of my middle school. I failed,” Kim Dokja looked down at himself then back up at Yoo Joonghyuk, swallowing thickly at the expression on the man’s face. “Obviously. Since then, I’ve been terrified of heights.”

There was only silence, bar the gentle whips of winds around them. Yoo Joonghyuk’s face was somber, drawn taut with sorrow. Kim Dokja was overwhelmed with the want to cover it up with his lips — or say something to make it go away. He stupidly made an attempt:

“You’re not going to say something corny along the lines of wishing you were there with me, right?”

That frown on that gorgeous face turned into a thunderous scowl.

“Don’t say idiotic things, Dokja.”

The man in question let out a bark of laughter, and then more when he felt the hands on his upper body shift to his waist, pulling him in close for a hug so tight it would have broken his ribs if the assailant tried any harder.

“...I do wish that I met you sooner,” the taller man murmured into Kim Dokja’s hair after a moment, and the shorter’s smile turned a little sad as he patted consolingly at his back.

“Well, I don’t,” he confessed. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t go still, but he listened without responding, “I don’t think you would have liked me back then, Joonghyuk-ah. You would be too popular and would spend all your time playing video games. You wouldn’t have spared any time for quiet ol’ me.”

Kim Dokja felt the arms around him tighten at those words, and he huffed a bit in equal measure incredulity and humor. This guy was too idealistic.

Yoo Joonghyuk let go of Kim Dokja, gazing at his face with boundless devotion, “Still, I would have found a way,” he declared, and when Kim Dokja’s eyes closed as he choked on another cackle, he missed the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes softened in turn. 

When he came down from his high, Kim Dokja’s eyes were lit with the brightness of all the stars in the sky. He looked beautiful like this, with the corners of his lips upturned and his shoulders slack with ease, Yoo Joonghyuk thought. But then, without warning, “I almost forgot!” The man roughly patted down his side with wide eyes, rummaging for something in his pocket.

He, too, pulled out a black box the size of his palm. Yoo Joonghyuk openly stared.

“It’s not what you think,” Kim Dokja said with a blush, but Yoo Joonghyuk still didn’t budge. “I do think far ahead just like you, but not in the same way.”

The shorter man then lifted the lid, and from within the box revealed an intricate watch. The case was more detailed, dips and curves reflecting the maker’s incredible skill, but the dial itself was simplistic, minimalistic — just how Yoo Joonghyuk liked it. 

“Dokja…”

“I got it mostly as a joke. Even though you have a big clock in your office and a smaller digital clock on your computer, it’s like when you’re working, you’re completely absorbed. I always have to remind you of your appointments,” Kim Dokja exhaled softly. His breath came out foggy, but he could see clearly in spite of it. “I thought that it would be a good gift since you always lose track of time. If one day I wasn’t there to remind you, you’d at least have this.”

“Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him severely. “What do you mean.”

Kim Dokja pursed his lips, then continued with some embarrassment, “I thought that if I didn’t go along with you, even if I liked you, Joonghyuk-ah, you’d fire me,” he spoke, the chuckle felt dry in his throat. “I didn’t want that. I also didn’t want to part from you, but if it had to happen…”

“I guess,” Kim Dokja tried to shrug nonchalantly. “I wanted you to have something that would remind you of me when I’m gone.”

“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk grabbed onto his shoulders. If this man didn’t care for Kim Dokja, he would surely be hanging him off the ledge right now with that grim expression on his face. “You are a fool.”

“Well,” Kim Dokja wobbly grinned, tripping over his own words, “what does that make you when you love this fool?”

Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him deeply, before he promptly snatched the box containing the watch out of his hands. Kim Dokja blabbered useless protests as the man held it up critically.

Wordlessly, Yoo Joonghyuk pulled the watch out of the padding it came with, holding it up in the light. Kim Dokja looked at him with an open expression of anxiety, which Yoo Joonghyuk quickly stamped out as he wrapped the length of the watch around his left wrist, securing it snugly. It was beautiful. 

Satisfied, he dragged his eyes up to look at Kim Dokja. The shorter man’s face was darkened with color, a vivid red the taller could hardly see through the night. But Yoo Joonghyuk could care less for that as he grabbed the man’s forearms and leaned close. “I don’t care what it makes me, loving you,” Yoo Joonghyuk proclaimed. “I love you anyways, Dokja-ya.”

And when Yoo Joonghyuk closed in, he was met with no resistance, only a relieved gasp against his lips.

A reciprocation without strings, a love without need for reason, shown without need for words — Kim Dokja had always wanted this.

And he would finally allow it for himself.