Chapter Text
It was 9:26 a.m. and Minho was running late to work. Again.
This wasn’t his normal train (the one that would get him there on time). As if to further illustrate his lateness, there were different advertisem*nts on the walls and the seat colors were a more vibrant, less worn out color.
The days where Minho paid attention to the minute intricacies of his commute have been long gone.
Minho existed in that fuzzy haze of numbness where he basically traveled to work with his eyes closed. Or at least it felt like it.
Years ago, Minho started to ignore the way the vibrations of the jostling car made his fingers feel a little tingly and numb. Years ago, he learned to hold tightly onto the pole to remain standing against the momentum.
Years of apathy thought, didn’t stop him from noticing weird sh*t, but like a true New Yorker, he stopped reacting to any of it.
He swore the man holding onto the same pole he had held onto was slowly falling asleep next to him. Closer and closer, he invaded Minho’s space more and more.
Yep, there it was, the unmistakable feeling of a head resting on Minho’s shoulder. Kinda heavy? Like heavier than it should be?
Well, as long as the stranger didn’t drool, Minho could live with it. He was in a foul mood but didn’t have the energy to even open his phone to finally start the Webtoon Seonghwa has been trying in vain to get him to read, let alone interfere with a man and his before-work-sleep.
When it was his stop, Minho shook the man off and exited, happy to be off the subway, but sad to be closer to work. Two-stepping it, he trotted up the stairs and above ground.
He felt something wet hit the top of his hair and seep down to his scalp. Then another. It was raining. Of course it was raining. Was rain the universe’s alternative to drool getting on his chambray button down? The rain picked up immediately so fat drops turned into quick pellets.
His glasses immediately fogged up with the humidity of the city in the early summer, but Minho trudged along to the corner and stopped with the crowd waiting for the light. He wondered why rain kind of just stuck to the lenses instead of magically being windshield wiped off. It soured his mood even further.
Seriously, why haven’t they invented something to prevent this yet? Couldn’t capitalism do something useful for once? Does everyone in those big fancy inventor jobs just prefer contact lenses?
Assholes, perfect-vision, contact-wearing, assholes, the lot of them. He glared down at how his khaki’s were starting to turn a dark brown at the hem from the puddles he couldn’t avoid stomping in.
Minho shook his head, and noticed the crowd had begun to shuffle across the street once the walk symbol turned on. He followed along, though all he could think about was veering off course for coffee.
…One of the nice ones that cost too much money but always seemed to fulfill that serotonin level that coffee from home never could…
If he stopped now, he would just be obscenely late at that point. Plus, there were only Starbucks nearby. He planned on boycotting them forever if he could. f*ck it, fine. He could live without coffee for a little bit longer.
Turning autopilot back on to counter the dread, Minho walked the half block to the Real Estate office he worked for.
This is how a majority of his days started during the week. Race the train and subway schedule, run up the stairs, turn right, walk walk walk, ride the elevator to floor seven, turn right again and walk fifty steps, drag himself up the stairs and—
“Oh look, a wet stray. Who let you in?” An irritating voice chirped at him.
“The problem is, Yoongi,” Minho replied, not even pausing to look at his coworker and give him the satisfaction. “You were nice to me my first week here and I decided to stick around.”
Minho beelined towards his desk in their shared room. Dropping his wet book bag onto the floor, he reached for the spare glasses cloth he kept in his left drawer.
Yoongi scoffed. “I barely spoke to you, and when I did, it was to tell you your writing was horrible.”
Wiping the rain from the lenses and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, Minho looked up at Yoongi and said, “How were you supposed to know I’m into that?”
Yoongi ignored Minho and lowered his attention back to aggressively answering emails.
He stood a little taller than Minho (Yoongi never let him forget it). Yoongi’s hair was long and curled a bit at the ends which contrasted to Yoongi’s dedication to comfort and dressing like a sensible grandpa. A few years older than Minho, Yoongi acted more like a disgruntled uncle figure than a peer. How can someone who’s only 33 be so old?
When Minho’s co-copywriter was actually writing, the clacking of his keyboard was done with more care, but when it was answering emails, Yoongi’s fingers seemed to find them all incredibly offensive and took it out on the keys.
Minho sighed. There was no escaping learning Yoongi’s idiosyncrasies when their desks were positioned front to front.
With the familiar typing sound turning into static noise, Minho reached down to pull out his laptop from the damp bag and turned on his monitor.
On the screen, a more recent photo of Soonie greeted him and Minho’s chest ached. What he would give to just be at home on the couch with him instead of stuck here. They could watch Business Proposal again or even an anime.
Alas, someone had to earn money to buy them food and Soonie was, well, too cute of a cat to be put to work.
Minho should have rescued an uglier cat.
He suppressed another sigh.
Okay, I’ll just sort through my emails then go grab coffee, Minho thought, determined to not let the day be a complete loss.
Did Minho like the office coffee? No, it was just kinda gross keurig coffee. Did he like free things especially at the expense of his company who could definitely afford to pay him way more? Yeah, absolutely.
Opening his email, Minho felt any life force he might have been clinging onto evaporate from his body. It was like when an airplane ran right into one of those sad birthday balloons some poor kid lost grip of and had been floating in the sky for a few days.
82 emails? In Minho’s inbox? Just from over the weekend? What could have even possibly gone wrong for this to happen?
Clicking through a few of them that were tagged as “urgent,” he quickly figured it out. Minho ran a hand through his dark brown hair in disbelief.
A duo partnership who went by “Jones and Greene” were splitting up. From the looks of it, it was messy. Greene was off to work for another rival Real Estate company and would be in competition for the apartment complex the two planned on pitching together. Now it was even more dire that Jones secured the deal when betrayal and pride were on the line.
Letting out a groan that was definitely work appropriate, Minho decided that no, he would actually need coffee first before he even began to think of dealing with this.
He grabbed his mug and poked his head up over his monitor. Minho looked down at Yoongi who was now typing with way less anger in those oddly long fingers of his. “Hey!” Minho verbally jabbed, “When were you going to tell me about Jones and Greene?”
“Mmm,” Yoongi murmured and slow-blinked at his computer, only half listening. He really did look like an old tortoise sometimes. But like, also a cat? Or maybe Minho was just biased from all the cat mannerisms Yoongi had. “I figured I’d let you enjoy your last few minutes of peace before finding out our lives are going to be living hell for the next week.”
“How considerate of you to think of my mental health,” Minho rolled his eyes.
“I don’t care about that at all,” Yoongi said, still not looking up.
“Do you want coffee?” Minho shifted gear.
This got Yoongi’s attention. Head coming out of his shell a little further, Yoongi eye Minho hopefully.
Before Yoongi could answer, Minho stopped him with a shake of his head. “No, no I mean just from the kitchen.”
“You could just stab me, you know. It’d be easier to kill me that way,” Yoongi groaned and the turtle head retreated, hidden once more.
Minho threw his hands up in the air. “What, and deal with Jones all by myself? No, I'm keeping you alive. I’ll keep you alive until the day before I want to die so that you’ll never know peace. We’ll do everything together from now on. We could get a surgery—”
“Wait!” Yoongi yelled as Minho exited their room. “I think I would actually like death by sh*tty coffee. It sounds nice! Quiet! Peaceful!”
Yoongi went on but Minho kept walking.
Jogging down the stairs, Minho fished out his phone and put on whatever his Spotify Daylist was at the moment. ‘Progressive melodic Monday Doom’ seemed pretty accurate.
With his earbuds in, people generally knew not to talk to him unless it was urgent. Minho was definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone this morning. Yoongi he could handle. Despite the constant insults flung his way and mind games, there’s something about that coworker who is on the same wavelength of hating life and everyone else in the office.
Minho slunk into the kitchen that also served as a small break room. On his way to the Keurig he grabbed two bananas for him and Yoongi as well as one of those breakfast bars that were always kept in stock.
He was just going to make a quick cup of coffee before anyone could come in and ask him to do something for them and be on his way—
Oh. Oh my god.
Minho looked at the empty basket next to the Keurig machine. A sludgy sensation of dread started to sink in his stomach.
That’s okay, yep. Minho tried to reassure himself. Someone just forgot to restock it.
With too much hope in his heart out of pure, purposeful delusion, Minho opened the cabinet door expecting to see a brand new box of coffee pods.
The cabinet was empty besides some weird, mismatched single use paper dishware.
Great. Fantastic. Wonderful.
This was officially one of the worst Monday’s he’s ever had. Maybe worst day of his life? What if he just quit? Maybe he should quit.
He could still fix this with… tea? He looked at the pathetic bags of lipton.
No, tea wasn’t anything he was interested in, he decided.
Dragging his feet, Minho slunk back out to the main room where the marketing and design team sat. Outside the big windows, he saw that it was still pouring. Minho definitely wasn’t going to go back out there no matter how desperate he was for adequate caffeine. Maybe he could just Doordash it? Surely that was acceptable under the circ*mstances.
Minho was all consumed in misery as he trekked back up the stairs to his office that he barely even smirked when he heard his boss’ boss say, “This is where our writers are stationed. It may seem like we sectioned them off from the rest of us because they threatened to unionize over needing peace and quiet, but I promise they are actually really nice to work with.”
She must be giving a tour to another bright, fresh, new agent who signed on with them. Minho could puke.
When he reached the top step and rounded the corner, Minho came face-to-face with a crop of blonde hair and wide, brown eyes more deerlike than human. Definitely bright. Next to the stranger, his boss’ boss, Maria took a happy sip from a white throw away cup of coffee.
Minho narrowed his eyes and took two steps back, fully taking in the two people standing in his doorway.
His CEO, Maria, was looking at him with her usual amused face. She was a short, middle aged, Korean woman who dressed well. She was a good enough boss. Was polite and occasionally stopped in and asked Yoongi and Minho how their weekend was before talking about some expensive skiing trip she just took. Minho only half hated her half of the time.
But right now, it might be full-hate.
He took one of his earbuds out.
“Ah speaking of, it looks like one ventured out of the cave for a second,” Maria motioned at Minho and then to the man next to her. “Felix, this is Lee Minho. Minho, this is Lee Felix. Felix is the new graphic designer.”
Felix’s cup of coffee was still completely full, Minho saw.
Minho peeled his glare from the cup to the criminal, and was met with a face that somehow made him more angry.
Because anger was definitely the reason his heart started to beat faster. Anger had to be the reason why Minho wasn’t able to form a sentence.
Felix smiled at Minho so brightly that Minho had to fight the urge to make sure Felix was actually looking at him like that.
“Nice to meet you, Minho!” Felix said.
Two things melted Minho’s poor uncaffeinated brain. Firstly, that voice was way too deep for someone with a face like a little pixie and secondly, what was that accent and why was it in his office? New Zealand?
Minho couldn’t help but scan Felix up and down.
Felix was wearing loose cream colored slacks, a white band tee layered with a deep brown dress shirt overtop. When Minho’s eyes traveled back to his face it was almost as shocking as the first time.
f*ck, Felix was really pretty.
Small features that were equally sharp and soft were framed by dusty blonde mullet. Freckles littered, no, painted across cheeks and a small nose. Felix looked like he belonged in the fairy realm, not an office. He had one of those faces that just couldn’t be compared to anyone else’s. It was almost enough to make Minho forget about the coffee. Almost.
Minho blinked a few times at them before he registered that Felix had his hand extended towards him. Back to earth, Minho reached out and shook it. It was just smaller than his own but the handshake was firm and warm. That was something that was supposed to matter in the professional world right? It definitely did not leave Minho feeling phantom fingers tingle against his skin after they let go.
Feeling an outside set of eyes on him, Minho glanced to the right and saw Yoongi watching them with a sh*t eating grin on his face. Great. Minho didn’t know what it was, but he knew he was going to regret something in about 5 minutes. He turned his blank stare back to his boss.
“A new designer? Did we lose someone recently?” Minho asked, finding his voice but still confused. In the past marketing meetings they didn’t talk about looking to hire anyone.
“No, no we didn’t lose anyone, but with all of the new work we’ve been taking on recently, I figured it would be a good idea to bring in some extra help,” Maria said.
“Ah, right,” Minho murmured, turning his attention back to the new hire who was still looking at him.
Minho hated these situations. Usually when he felt this level of social discomfort, he could just say something that made everyone else feel weird, derail the conversation and escape, but he couldn’t do that in “professional settings.”
Instead, Minho chose to simply execute the escape part of the plan. He waddle-side-stepped with his back pressed against the glass exterior walls of his office, and gracefully for sure, slipped past them.
Maria, unaware or uncaring, continued on, “So that leaves Min Yoongi. You three will be working together a lot.”
“Yo,” Yoongi greeted, almost too happily. Yoongi was never this happy. Minho squinted his eyes judging the whole encounter. Yoongi knew something. It made Minho feel even more uneasy.
Felix happily matched Yoongi’s happy energy and it was too nice, Minho decided. Felix was too nice to say no to coffee that he clearly had no plan on drinking since the cup was still full. Coffee that Minho should be drinking right now.
Before anyone could say anything else, Maria’s head whipped to the right like a seagull spotting an easy target to swoop on. “Oh, there’s Hoshi! Let’s go before we miss him again.”
Just like that, they were off. Minho could hear the tail end of Maria’s rant about how Hoshi never sat still and was hard to track down. The two left together. They seemed too close to be merely a boss with a new hire…
“No coffee?” he heard Yoongi ask innocently, disrupting his thoughts. Yoongi already knew the answer by Minho’s empty hands.
Minho ignored him.
“They got the last ones?” Yoongi pushed with a spark of humor in his voice. Minho would rather die than entertain him.
Minho opened his breakfast bar as if all of his life’s problems were caused by the insulting wrapper. Nature Valley was responsible for climate change. Nature Valley was the reason for his high rent. Nature Valley was the reason for Soonie’s hairballs.
Once the sound of his chewing died down a little in his own ears, Minho realized his music, ignored this entire time, was still playing through his single earbud. He turned to his emails when a new one popped into his inbox.
From: Moonbyul
Newsletter + Felix Bio Edits
Abandoning his plans, Minho opened it.
Attached on the email was a headshot that must have been taken only 20 minutes ago. Felix’s annoying, too happy, sunshine face smiled brightly at him through the monitor. God, the guy even photographed well. Minho took another angry bite of his breakfast bar.
Scrolling, Minho started reading Felix’s answers to the questionnaire.
Name: Lee Felix
Age: 26
Hometown: Sydney, Australia
Australian accent. I should have known that, Minho thought.
Education: UNSW, Aus 2020
Position: Graphic Designer
Expert Skills: Typography, Layout Design, Logos
Birthday: September 15
Favorite Season: Autumn or Winter
Likes: Sweets, swimming, and shopping
Dislikes: Spicy food
Something He is Excited About: recently bought a new skateboard
Peeling his banana, Minho read everything else that wasn’t about Felix in the newsletter quickly and determined it needed no edits from him.
At least he got one thing done this morning.
He was about to make a start on his actual work but he saw Yoongi’s head pop over his monitor, eyeing Minho with unknown purpose.
“What?” Minho mumbled through the last bite of his banana.
“Just checking to make sure you finished eating,” Yoongi replied.
“Why?”
“I’m saying this in the meanest way possible and offense intended. You’re the worst when you’re hungry,” Yoongi stated like he was talking about the weather.
“Please never speak to me again,” Minho said, turning back to his emails to try and get something legitimate started. He felt a headache starting.
“Okay, I won’t tell you something that I know that you don't know about the new guy yet, only because you're so stupid and too busy.”
“Wait, what?” Minho asked, suddenly interested. Emails be damned.
“No, you definitely wouldn’t be interested, nevermind.”
What if he killed Yoongi? Minho could get away with it for a day at least. Just sit him with his back to the door and no one would suspect a thing. It would give Minho enough time to get a head start and f*ck off to another country.
“No, you’re right. Why would I care?” But Minho cared. He cared a lot. Yoongi just didn’t know that once Minho got a hint of something only to have it ripped away, he had to know. Needed to know. He couldn’t help it. It’s like when you play with a cat with a string and then you make it slowly go out of view. 9/10 times the cat will pounce on it because they can't bear to see it disappear.
“No, yeah. You definitely don’t have a terrible habit of needing to know things,” Yoongi said with a flat voice.
Oh, yeah. Yoongi already knew about that. More than anyone and he used it against Minho constantly.
“Nope,” Minho retorted. That didn’t mean Minho needed to play into Yoongi’s hand though. This time he could be strong.
Yoongi didn’t answer him, but got back to typing. Minho was grateful to follow his lead.
He made it about twenty minutes before it started nagging at him. Twenty minutes was pretty good. He should be proud of that twenty, it was a respectable amount of time. Ask anyone. They’d agree.
What would Yoongi know that Minho didn’t? He didn’t talk to anyone in the office more than Minho did. If anything, he talked way less to their other coworkers than Minho did. When would he have had the chance to learn something he didn’t know?
“Something bothering you?” he heard Yoongi ask. “You’re tapping your foot again in that annoying way you do when you want to ask me something but won’t.”
“Your existence is bothering me. Can you fix that for me?” Minho said without emotion.
“Yeah, I’m quitting today actually,” Yoongi supplied.
Minho wouldn’t crack first. “Maria asked me to tell you to go to her office in thirty minutes. She’s probably going to fire you. Honestly, your work has been sh*t for the last couple months.”
“That’s funny. She came in this morning before you got here late and assigned me a new project.”
“What?” Minho stopped pretending to look at his screen and peered over his desk.
“Yeah, she asked me if I’d rather work on the new renters postcards or the Jones rebrand. I said renters for sure. So you are going to be working with her nephew.”
Minho scrunched his brow. “Who’s her nephew?”
Yoongi rolled his chair out to the side of their desks with his hands clasped behind his head. God that sh*t eating grin was on his face again. This never fared well for Minho.
“Felix.”
