Work Text:
Late Evening - The Office
The office is already dark, most floors empty, but the marketing department on level 14 still has one light on.
Joshua Hong sits behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, eyes slightly glazed from staring at the glowing screen for too long. His desk is crowded with energy drink cans, mock-up protein bar packages, and piles of sticky notes with half-written campaign ideas.
A headache hums behind his eyes. He squints at the screen, reading the same sentence for the 4th time.
"Q1 projection for EnergyMax Protein Fusion—"
He groans softly and drops his head back against the chair. He's 27, head of the marketing department, respected, talented, creative and........... exhausted.
A soft chime. His phone lights up.
Coworker Group Chat:
"Joshua hyung, LET'S GO DRINK. RIGHT NOW."
"Boss, you worked nonstop today. We're NOT letting you rot in the office."
"Come downstairs. We're buying."
He chuckles under his breath. He knows they won't stop texting until he agrees. Plus... the truth he never says out loud:
He is lonely.
It's been months since he went out with anyone. Months since he laughed without thinking about deadlines. Months since someone held his gaze for more than politeness.
He massages his temples. "...Fine," he whispers to no one, shutting off the monitor. As he packs up, he catches his reflection in the black screen — tired eyes, soft features, a hint of loneliness in the set of his mouth. He forces a smile.
"Let's go drink," he murmurs, grabbing his coat.
He heads out, leaving behind the piles of stress and pretending not to care how heavy the silence feels once the elevator doors close.
The restaurant is warm, loud, and crowded — the kind of place Joshua usually avoids. But after a brutal week of meetings, deadlines, and last-minute presentations, he finally gave in when his coworkers insisted he come out.
Joshua sits at a round table with his friends, nursing his drink while everyone else is far beyond "tipsy." His friends are laughing too loudly, singing off-key, and clinking their glasses like the world is ending.
"JOSHUA! One more shot!"
"Come on, boss! You only live once!"
He smiles tiredly, waving them off.
"You guys can drink. I'll watch."
But somehow, after he sends one friend home in a cab... then another... and the last two stumble off after he orders them rides, Joshua finds himself alone at the table.
Alone... and finally allowing himself to relax.
He exhales, leaning back in the outdoor seat. The weather is nice tonight — cool breeze, city noise, neon lights glowing off the pavement. He takes a slow sip of beer and lets the tension in his shoulders fade.
He doesn't want to go home yet.
Not to the quiet apartment.
Not to the piled-up work on his desk.
Not to the emails waiting for him.
So, he orders another drink. Then another. By the time he finishes the third one, the world feels a little softer around the edges. His cheeks warm, his movements slow, and the streetlights seem brighter than usual.
He rests his chin on his palm and chuckles to himself, staring at absolutely nothing.
A group of strangers walk past. He thinks one of them looks like a walking piece of bread. This sends him into an uncontrollable giggle fit. He tries to sit straight, fails, and ends up lowering his head onto the table.
"Five minutes," he mumbles into the wood.
"Just five minutes nap... the world can wait..."
His voice comes out thick, words tangled together. He babbles on without realizing:
"Why does the ground keep moving? It's rude... I'm not done drinking."
To anyone walking by, he looks like a very drunk, very small, very helpless man slumped over a table at 1AM.
And fate — or coincidence — brings one very important person right beside him.
Meanwhile, Seokmin's Side
Same Night — Rugby Training Facility
The massive indoor stadium echoes with heavy breathing and pounding footsteps.
Lee Seokmin, 28, lies on the turf, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping down his forehead. He's spent the last two hours in intense conditioning with his team.
His coach blows the whistle. "That's it for tonight! Good work!"
Seokmin sits up and wipes his face with his forearm, the muscles in his arms flexing effortlessly. He's big — really big — tall, broad, honey-tan skin glowing under the stadium lights. He looks intimidating at first glance, a walking wall of muscle.
But he smiles like a sunflower. "Good job today, everyone!" he calls out.
One of his teammates snorts. "Hyung, how do you still have energy? You ran more than all of us combined."
Seokmin rubs the back of his neck, shy. "I just... like running."
His teammates tease him for being too soft for someone who bulldozes grown men on the field. A fan might call him "The Gentle Giant." But in the locker room, everyone just calls him "our big softie."
After showering, he changes into a loose hoodie and joggers. He pulls on a cap to hide his face. Even late at night, he worries fans might recognize him.
His stomach growls loudly. "Okay, okay," he mutters, patting it. "I'll feed you. Just let me get home first."
Outside, the night air is cool. His bike is parked under a streetlamp, black and monstrous in size — a perfect contrast to how sweet he is.
On the way home, he stops by a convenience store. He buys: a protein snack, a banana milk, extra ramen, a pack of bandages (because he is always covered in minor cuts).
"Have a good night," the cashier says.
Seokmin bows shyly. "You too! Thank you."
He pushes open the door. And for a moment — just a second — he enjoys the quiet night. The soft hum of streetlights, the faint breeze brushing his still-wet hair. He walks toward his bike......when a slurred voice from the restaurant next door catches his attention.
Someone is mumbling. Low, helpless, drunk.
At first, he ignores it. Drunk people at night aren't unusual. But something about the voice... soft, slurred, pitiful... makes him glance to the side.
A small man is slumped over a round outdoor table, talking into the tabletop like it's his therapist. "Why... tables... so hard... can't they be soft... like clouds..."
Seokmin bites back a laugh.
He tells himself,
Don't get involved. Not your business.
But his eyes scan the area anyway — checking if anyone is with him. No one. Not a single friend. Just this drunk stranger babbling into the wood.
The protective instinct kicks in like a reflex.
He sighs.
"Stay out of it," he mutters to himself.
"You don't know him. Just go home. You're tired."
He takes one step away.
Then hears:
"Where's my—wait—who took my—where's my phone?"
Seokmin stops mid-step. And that's it. He caves.
With another deep sigh — the kind of sigh someone makes when they know they're about to get involved in a mess — he walks toward the small drunk man.
His footsteps are heavy but gentle. His shadow covers the table as he crouches down.
Up close, the stranger looks even more helpless. Flushed cheeks, messy hair, eyes half closed. Cute. Very cute. But totally wasted. It tugs at Seokmin's heart immediately. His brows knit with concern. He hesitates.
"Ah... why am I like this..." he mutters, rubbing his face.
He sighs deeply. And gives in to his nature —
the nature of someone who can't leave a lonely, drunk person alone at night.
The outdoor seating area is nearly empty now. Chairs stacked, lights dimmed, air slightly chilly. Only one wobbly table remains occupied—
—and that's where Joshua Hong has decided to dramatically collapse. His head is resting on his folded arms, hair falling over his eyes. A nearly empty beer bottle stands beside him like a witness to all his bad decisions. He lets out a soft groan.
"Ugh... I sent everyone home and now I'm dying... I'm the smartest person alive..."
He hiccups.
"No one appreciates... marketing geniuses... all day... making protein snacks sound sexy..."
He laughs to himself, then immediately frowns. His head lifts slightly. "Where's my—wait—who took my—where's my phone?" he mutters, patting around on the table, on his pockets, under his elbow.
"HEY! Thief! Invisible thief!"
He drops his head back down dramatically like a dying Victorian heroine.
That's when Seokmin finally approaches. Slow. Hesitant. Like a giant teddy bear sneaking into trouble he didn't want. He stops beside the table, crouching down, his huge frame folding awkwardly into a kneel.
"...Um. Excuse me?" he says softly, as if speaking too loud might make the drunk man explode.
"Hey... um... sir? Are you okay?"
Joshua lifts his head with the slow confusion of a baby deer waking up. His eyes meet Seokmin's.
Seokmin freezes.
He wasn't expecting the stranger to be...
pretty.
Even in the dim outdoor lights, Joshua's features are soft, eyes glazed and warm, lips slightly parted. His hair is messy in a way that looks accidentally perfect.
Joshua stares at Seokmin.
Squints. Then gasps.
"OH. You. You're—you're—"
He leans closer until their noses nearly bump.
"You're very big."
Seokmin nearly chokes on air. "Uh—yes? I mean—I guess—yeah—"
Joshua flicks his forehead lightly, missing the actual forehead by 3 inches and tapping his hairline. "You're like a tree. A big tree. A rugby tree."
Seokmin stiffens.
Oh no.
Did this drunk stranger... somehow recognize him?
Joshua pulls back again, blinks slowly, then smiles so brightly it makes Seokmin's heart whiplash. "You're so handsome."
Seokmin's brain completely stops functioning. "Ah—I—I—um—thank you—but—are you here alone? Do you—do you have friends nearby?"
Joshua groans and plops his cheek right back on the table. "All went home. I told them to go. Because I'm responsible. Super responsible." He tries lifting his head again but fails.
Seokmin sighs softly. "Okay... okay, hold on. Let me help you sit up properly."
He gently puts a hand on Joshua's shoulder. Joshua immediately slaps his hand away—well, more like taps it weakly. "Nooooo. Stranger danger."
Seokmin almost laughs. "I'm not dangerous, I promise. I just want to make sure you're safe."
Joshua narrows his eyes suspiciously. "You sound dangerous."
"I—I really don't think I do..."
But Joshua isn't listening anymore. He's poking Seokmin's chest with his index finger. "Oh wow. Muscles. So many. Why do people have this many muscles? Is this legal?"
Seokmin coughs and tries to gently stop the poking. "Sir—please—"
"Joshua."
"...Huh?"
"My name. Joshua. Call me Joshua. Sir makes me feel like an old man."
Seokmin's ears go red. "Oh. Okay. Joshua."
Joshua smiles triumphantly and lies back down on the table again. "Good. Now take me home, Muscle Tree."
Seokmin actually sputters. "I want to, but you have to tell me where you live."
Joshua waves his hand in the air in a grand, sloppy gesture.
"Somewhere... in the city. With buildings."
"Joshua... that is not... helpful at all."
Joshua sits up—suddenly—leaning inches from Seokmin's face again. His eyes go wide and emotional. "You're so nice... but I don't... I don't have my phone... how do I... how do I live... I'm going to die..."
Seokmin panics. "No! No you won't! I'll help you, okay? I swear!"
Joshua softens instantly. "Okay. I trust you, Muscle Tree."
And then he collapses onto Seokmin's shoulder.
Just. Falls. Right. On him.
Seokmin freezes like a statue, arms raised awkwardly.
"...Oh. Uh—okay. That's—" He swallows. "That's fine."
He gently adjusts Joshua until he's resting comfortably.
Joshua murmurs into his hoodie, voice muffled. "You smell nice... like... soap..."
Seokmin has never been clinically diagnosed with a heart problem, but he's pretty sure it stops beating for three entire seconds. He exhales slowly. "Okay, Joshua. Let's get you out of here."
He lifts Joshua's arm around his own shoulder, helps him stand and starts walking.
Joshua immediately sags against him. This tiny, drunk man is clinging to him like a sleepy koala.
"...Oh boy," Seokmin mutters, looking at his big motorcycle.
"How am I going to put you on that?"
Joshua spots the bike and gasps in terror. "No. No. No no no. That dragon will eat me."
"It's... it's just a bike."
"It's judging me."
"It really isn't."
Joshua pokes the bike's side mirror. "It's judging me hard."
Seokmin laughs helplessly. "I don't have your address. And you can't walk. You're staying with me tonight."
Joshua lifts his head, eyes full of dramatic betrayal. "You're kidnapping me??"
"What?! NO—!"
Joshua pats his cheek. "It's okay. I won't tell the police."
"That's—NOT—"
He gives up. He lifts Joshua bridal-style—effortlessly.
Joshua gasps. "Oh... wow. You're so... strong."
Seokmin almost drops him. "Please don't say things like that randomly," he whispers, flustered beyond belief.
Seokmin somehow manages to get Joshua to the bike, one arm tightly wrapped around his waist so the idiot doesn't topple. Joshua is swaying like a sleepy willow tree in the wind, head bobbing forward every few seconds before snapping back up with a confused blink.
"Sit here," Seokmin mumbles, trying to ease Joshua onto the seat while Seokmin is standing.
Joshua blinks. "Am I a... a sack of potatoes? You're treating me like potato bag."
"You are worse than a potato bag," Seokmin mutters under his breath, using both hands to stabilize him. "Okay, now— just bend your knees— no, not like that— Joshua, wait—"
But Joshua's entire body tilts to the opposite side of where Seokmin is standing. Like a tree slowly deciding it had enough living.
Seokmin lets out a strangled squeak. "JOSHUA—!"
He grabs him by the waist just in time, pulling him upright before he kisses the gravel. Joshua just blinks at him with big glossy eyes. "Did the earth just hug me?"
"No! It did NOT hug you— it tried to break your face!" Seokmin's heart is POUNDING. He presses Joshua to his chest, breathing hard. "Okay. New plan. You're not sitting there. Nope. Not happening. I'm not risking your pretty skull like that."
He gently guides Joshua around and settles him in front, between his arms, on the bike. Joshua's body melts instantly, head falling against Seokmin's neck like it belongs there. His palms flatten weakly over Seokmin's waist, his fingers trying to curl but giving up halfway.
Seokmin wraps both arms protectively around him. "There," he whispers, adjusting Joshua so he sits more securely. "I've got you. You're not falling this time."
Joshua hums, eyes barely open. "You're warm..."
"You're drunk."
"I'm emotionally expressive."
"...You're drunk," Seokmin repeats, cheeks burning.
Joshua nuzzles into him, turning slightly so his cheek presses against Seokmin's chest. His voice is muffled and soft. "You smell like... like cinnamon and something... something sweet. Are you secretly... a dessert?"
Seokmin almost chokes on air.
"Joshua, I'm literally trying to not crash and die."
"You're sooo soft..." Joshua whispers dramatically.
"That is NOT helping."
Joshua lazily pats his chest. "You have a heartbeat. That means you love me."
Seokmin's entire soul stops.
Joshua shifts again, more snuggly, completely unaware how close Seokmin is to spontaneously combusting.
Then the nonsense REALLY starts.
"I think trees are alive."
"...Okay."
"And bikes are alive too."
"No, they're not."
"My bike talks sometimes."
Seokmin tightens his hold. "I think that's your imagination."
Joshua gasps. "Are YOU calling me delusional?"
"Yes."
Joshua slaps his hand weakly on Seokmin's thigh. "Rude."
Seokmin lets out a helpless laugh, leaning his chin lightly atop Joshua's head. He starts the bike slowly, keeping both arms firmly around Joshua's waist, securing him like the most precious glass object in the world.
Throughout the ride, Joshua continues mumbling. "You know... if you were a fruit... you'd be a peach..."
"That's the weirdest compliment ever."
"No, listen, LISTEN..." Joshua tries moving around but Seokmin stops him immediately. "Don't move! You are NOT allowed to move!"
Joshua sighs dramatically and settles back against him again. "You're a peach because you're sweet. And soft. And I want to bite you."
Seokmin nearly swerves off the road. "STOP. TALKING."
"I cannot," Joshua murmurs sleepily. "My mouth has its own brain."
"Clearly."
Joshua tucks his head further into Seokmin's chest, curling up like a sleepy cat. "Don't let go..."
Seokmin's voice softens instantly. "I won't. I promise."
The bike hums through the late-night quiet streets, Joshua half-asleep, whispering nonsense, while Seokmin holds him close, heart beating too fast, terrified and happy and overwhelmed all at once.
And he doesn't let go.
Not even for a second.
The second the bike stops, Joshua makes a confused noise and refuses to lift his head from Seokmin's chest.
"Joshua... we're home," Seokmin whispers, gently shaking him.
Joshua's response? A muffled, dramatic groan. "Home is warm. Why is warm ending?"
"That's me, you idiot—"
Joshua abruptly wraps both arms around Seokmin's neck like a koala who has zero intention of letting go.
"I'm not letting you go. You're very... structural."
"Structural??"
"Like... a lamp post... but sexy."
Seokmin's soul leaves his body. "Oh my god."
Joshua sniffles. Actually sniffs him.
Then with utmost seriousness:
"You smell... strong."
"Strong?"
Joshua squints, swaying slightly.
"Like protein powder... but also... sexy."
Seokmin almost drops him. "JOSHUA, WHAT—?! That's NOT— How do I even respond to that??"
Joshua pats his cheek. "Don't worry. You smell delicious. Like someone who can pick things up. And put them down."
Seokmin decides Joshua cannot be left alone for even five seconds and scoops him into his arms in one smooth motion, bridal style.
Joshua gasps. "You're carrying me?!"
"What did you expect?" Seokmin mutters, adjusting his grip. "You can't even stand."
Joshua beams proudly.
"I knew you were very strong."
"PLEASE stop."
But Joshua snuggles closer anyway, arms tight around Seokmin's neck, face buried against him.
Seokmin walks with him through the hallway, praying no one sees this, praying Joshua doesn't whisper something embarrassing—
"I like your neck."
"OH MY GOD—!"
At his home, Seokmin pushes open the guest room door with one foot and gently sets Joshua on the bed.
Joshua immediately grabs fistfuls of his hoodie. "Don't go."
"I'm getting water—"
"NO."
"I'll be back in literally ten seconds—"
"NO. YOU'LL LEAVE ME. YOU'LL JOIN A CULT. YOU'LL—"
"WHY WOULD I JOIN A CULT, JOSHUA?!" Seokmin is wheezing.
Joshua blinks at him, eyes half-lidded. "You're charismatic."
"That doesn't even— okay. Okay, fine. I'm not leaving."
Joshua nods, satisfied, still squeezing his shirt as if he might vanish into dust if he lets go. "Good."
Seokmin tries to peel his fingers off. Joshua tightens them.
"No."
"Please?"
Joshua pouts, lips exaggeratedly pushed out. "You don't love me."
Seokmin freezes. His brain reboots. "I— what— THAT'S NOT— Joshua, you can't— I— how do I deal with you?!"
Joshua taps his cheek. "Kiss it?"
"Absolutely not."
"Tch. Coward."
Seokmin nearly screams.
Somehow, SOMEHOW, he manages to pry himself free and rushes to get water. He returns to find Joshua trying to fight the blanket. Punching it. Swearing at it. Calling it a "soft enemy."
"JOSHUA— WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"It attacked me."
"It's a blanket!"
"It has motives."
"Oh my god."
Seokmin kneels beside him, gently guiding the blanket over him. Joshua melts immediately, like someone turned his 'feral' switch off.
Then he reaches for Seokmin's sleeve again. "Stay."
"I'm not leaving. I'm right here."
Joshua blinks sleepily. "You're nice. And warm. And... kinda adorable."
Seokmin's ears turn red all the way to the tips. "Stop talking," he whispers softly.
Joshua yawns and curls deeper into the blanket, mumbling nonsense words—
"bike... peaches... sexy protein powder man... don't fall... don't leave... mmmm..."
Slowly, the nonsense fades. Joshua's breathing evens out. His lashes rest against his cheeks.
Seokmin watches him for a long moment. Chaotic, dramatic, impossible Joshua. Peaceful now. Soft. Small-looking. With a tiny pout still on his lips.
And Seokmin...
Seokmin just smiles helplessly.
A quiet, warm smile he can't stop. "...You're cute," he whispers into the dim room, brushing a stray hair off Joshua's forehead.
"Too cute," he adds under his breath, shaking his head. He pulls the blanket a little higher, makes sure Joshua is comfortable, and sits there for a moment.
Watching him.
Protecting him.
Falling for him in the simplest, quietest way.
Joshua wakes up to the faint sound of pans clinking and something sizzling.
For a moment he lies still, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. "This is not my ceiling," he mutters.
He sits up too fast—regrets it—grabs his head. "WHY does my skull feel like it's being slow roasted?"
He looks around the room.
A neatly folded hoodie at the foot of the bed.
A glass of water on the nightstand.
A blanket tucked around him like someone carefully made sure he wouldn't freeze or fight it again.
He frowns. "Did I... kidnap someone? Did someone kidnap me? Did I marry a stranger?"
He slowly opens the door.
And then—
He sees him.
A tall, ridiculously broad, honey-tanned man in a tight black T-shirt, standing in the kitchen... flipping eggs like a domestic Greek god.
Back muscles??
Shoulder muscles??
Forearms???
Joshua's jaw drops. "WHAT—WHO—WHERE—WHAT?!" he squeaks, backing up so hard he hits the wall.
The man turns around, startled, spatula still in his hand. "Oh! You're awake— wait, wait! Don't panic!"
Joshua panics anyway. "WHO—WHERE—WHY ARE YOU COOKING IN FRONT OF ME?! ARE YOU A KIDNAPPER WITH A COOKING FETISH?!"
Seokmin almost drops the pan. "What—no! No! You were drunk! Very, VERY drunk! I found you alone outside the restaurant— you kept talking to the table!"
Joshua freezes. "...That sounds like something I would do."
"It was," Seokmin confirms solemnly.
Joshua squints at him. "You're... really huge."
Seokmin blinks. "Uh... thank you?"
Joshua clears his throat, embarrassed.
"Sorry. I just—don't usually wake up in houses with... with men who look like they could bench-press a car."
Seokmin tries not to smile.
Joshua sits at the table reluctantly, still watching Seokmin like he might suddenly sprout wings and fly through the window. Seokmin places a simple, warm breakfast in front of him—eggs, rice, a little kimchi, and ginger tea.
"For your headache. And, I'm Seokmin by the way," Seokmin says.
Joshua stares at the plate for a long moment. "This... is so wholesome," he mumbles. "Did I adopt you drunk? You're acting like I legally own you now."
Seokmin laughs—a soft, warm laugh that curls around Joshua's chest in a way he does NOT want to analyze right now. "You didn't adopt me," Seokmin says. "But you DID refuse to let me go when I tried to put you on the bed."
Joshua drops his spoon. "I—WHAT—"
"You clung to me like a koala.'"
Joshua wants the ground to swallow him. "Oh my God."
Seokmin shrugs, shy. "It was... kinda cute."
Joshua nearly dies a second time. They eat for a few minutes, the silence comfortable, warm. Joshua keeps sneaking glances at him.
Seokmin keeps pretending not to notice... but he does.
Oh, he does.
When Joshua finishes the food, he leans back a little, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "...You look familiar," he murmurs.
Seokmin stiffens. "Do I?"
Joshua nods slowly.
"I feel like I've seen you somewhere. Maybe on a poster? Or—hm. I'll remember later."
Seokmin looks relieved and also suspiciously pink.
Joshua smiles faintly. "You're... really kind," he says softly. "Most strangers wouldn't go this far."
Seokmin's ears turn red. "I couldn't leave you alone," he admits quietly. "It didn't feel right."
Something warm flutters in Joshua's chest.
After the breakfast, it is the time to go. Joshua stands by the door, shoes tied, bags under his eyes but cheeks softly flushed. Seokmin stands across from him, hands fidgeting, unsure what to do with his massive frame.
Joshua steps closer. "Give me your hand," he says.
Seokmin's eyes widen but he does. Joshua turns it palm-up... and with slow, neat strokes, writes his phone number on it with a pen he found on the table.
Seokmin stays perfectly still, barely breathing.
Joshua smirks. "There. In case I ever get drunk alone onto another restaurant table."
Seokmin stares at the numbers like they're sacred script. "I... will keep this safe."
"Good." Joshua steps just a little closer, lifting his eyes to Seokmin's.
"And..."
He touches Seokmin's cheek lightly. "Thank you. For taking care of me."
Before Seokmin can make a sound—
Joshua leans up on his toes and presses a soft, warm kiss to his cheek.
A tiny kiss.
Barely there.
But gentle enough to make Seokmin forget his own name.
Joshua pulls back with a shy smile. "You're a good man, Seokmin," he says quietly. "I'm really grateful."
Seokmin just stands there, frozen, blush spreading, brain screaming, soul ascending.
Joshua steps back to leave. "See you," he whispers.
And the door closes.
Seokmin remains standing in the exact same spot. Still stunned. Still touching his cheek.
"...He kissed me," he whispers, overwhelmed. He looks down at the number on his palm, holding his hand like it's fragile glass. "I'm definitely calling him."
He goes to clean the dishes. He goes to the sink to keep the dirty dishes to wash them later. And being the careless guy, he didn't notice the water in the sink. Just when he puts the dishes in the sink, the water splashes. Few drops land on his palm. The ink smudges.
"NO—"
"NO NO NO NO—"
He rushes to dry it— Too late.
The entire number blurs into a gray he can't read. Seokmin stares at his palm in raw horror. "...I lost it," he whispers.
A beat. Then he yells into the empty apartment:
"HOW DID I LOSE A NUMBER IN JUST TEN SECONDS?!"
He sinks to the floor, dramatic and devastated. "...I have to find him. I will find him."
His cheek still burns where Joshua kissed it. He touches the spot again.
And smiles—helplessly, softly.
Joshua spends the entire day replaying last night. The warmth of Seokmin's apartment. His laugh. His ridiculously kind smile. His stupidly broad shoulders. The way he looked at Joshua while making breakfast.
And, of course—
the cheek kiss.
He sits at his desk with his coffee, chin in hand, staring at his phone more than his emails. "He should've called by now... right?"
It's been 12 hours.
Not that he's counting.
He absolutely is. He bites his lip. "I hope I didn't come off too strong," he mumbles. "Or too ridiculous. Or too clingy. Or too—"
He groans loudly and hides his face in his palms. "Ughhhh... I bet he realized I'm a mess when I'm drunk. He probably doesn't want to deal with me again."
His chest tightens unexpectedly. There's a small ache under his ribs. One he didn't expect to feel.
Because Seokmin...
Seokmin was his type.
Tall. Strong. Soft-spoken.
Kind eyes. Warm smile.
Someone who could lift him with one arm and treat him like fragile glass at the same time.
"Maybe he wasn't interested," he murmurs, heart sinking. "That's fine. I only knew him for a night."
But the sadness doesn't go away. He stares at his blank phone screen again. "...I wish he called."
Seokmin checks his palm so many times his coworkers think he's losing it. But the number is still gone. He tries everything: staring at the faint ink for clues, trying to recall the strokes of Joshua's handwriting, holding it under light, even asking his teammate Chan,
"Do you think this looks like a 7 or a 1?"
Chan stares at the smudge.
"That looks like... a cloud."
Seokmin's soul leaves his body. He checks his messages.
Nothing.
He checks the restaurant CCTV (he even considers asking the owner).
Nothing.
He goes home and lies face-down on his couch. "...I had ONE job."
He flips onto his back with a loud dramatic groan. "I lost the number of the cutest, sweetest, funniest guy I've ever met."
He covers his face with both hands. "I want to see him again so bad..."
He doesn't know that Joshua is waiting for him too.
Three days later...
Joshua sits in a marketing meeting, tapping his pen uselessly against the table.
His boss, Director Hwang, walks in with a proud grin. "Everyone, great news! We've secured a partnership with a major athlete for our new protein drink launch."
Joshua tries to focus. It's his job, after all.
Director Hwang clicks the remote. A slide appears on the projector.
A tall, muscular man in a rugby uniform.
Honey tanned skin.
Wide smile.
Charm radiating like sunlight.
Joshua's heart stops.
Director Hwang announces proudly. "Our new ambassador— Lee Seokmin. Professional rugby player. National sweetheart."
Joshua's pen clatters to the table. His coworkers gasp, whisper, squeal.
Joshua only thinks one thing: "...I KNEW he looked familiar."
His heart thuds against his ribs. His cheeks warm. Memories from that night flash: his laugh, his arms, the breakfast, the way he blushed when Joshua kissed his cheek.
Director Hwang continues,
"He'll be joining the monthly company gala this weekend. Joshua, since you're head of marketing, you'll be working closely with him."
Joshua freezes. Slowly, a smile spreads over his lips. A soft, dangerous, excited smile. "So... he IS famous," he murmurs under his breath. "And he's coming here. To me."
For the first time in days, his heart lifts. "I guess I'll see you soon... sexy protein powder man."
Joshua smirks, tapping his pen against the table with new energy. "And this time, I'm not letting you leave without getting your number."
The morning of the company gala starts with Seokmin lying face-down on his bed like a corpse. Not moving. Not blinking. Not speaking. Just suffering.
His teammate Seungkwan bangs on his bedroom door. "Hyung, are you alive? You've been groaning for like five straight minutes."
Seokmin muffles into the pillow,
"I'm not alive. I'm a ghost. A tragic ghost who lost the number of the cutest man in the universe."
The door cracks open. Seungkwan peeks inside. "Still sulking about that guy you found drunk on the street?"
Seokmin lifts his face just enough to glare.
"He wasn't 'a guy.' He was literally perfect. He thanked me with a kiss. An ACTUAL KISS."
"On the cheek."
"BUT STILL A KISS."
Seungkwan sighs and sits on the bed. "Hyung... you knew him for just few hours."
"Few magical hours."
"Please be serious."
Seokmin rolls onto his back dramatically, throwing an arm over his forehead like a dying Victorian heroine. "I can't stop thinking about him," he admits quietly. "The way he smiled. The way he held my hoodie while half asleep. The way he said I smelled like sexy protein powder."
"You SMUDGED his number," Seungkwan says flatly.
"I know," Seokmin groans. "It's the biggest tragedy of my life."
Seungkwan pats his arm like he's consoling a wounded forest animal. "Well... since you're obviously not going to get over this anytime soon, get up. You have to get ready. The company event is tonight."
Seokmin stares at the ceiling miserably. "That stupid event..."
"It's literally your endorsement job," Seungkwan reminds him.
"I'd rather be heartbroken in private," Seokmin mutters. But eventually—slowly, painfully—he drags himself out of bed.
Seokmin stands in front of the mirror, buttoning his shirt.
He's wearing a crisp black dress shirt tucked into fitted slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows — showcasing his forearms. Normally, he'd feel good. But right now, he doesn't. He sighs deeply at his own reflection.
"I'm supposed to be a confident national athlete," he mutters.
"Why do I look like a large puppy whose owner forgot to come home..."
He runs his fingers through his hair. The memory hits again: Joshua leaning forward on his toes, kissing his cheek softly— like he meant it.
Seokmin's ears turn red all over again. He covers his face. "Ughhhhhh why didn't I memorize the number? Why am I like this? Why is destiny so rude?"
He pulls his hand down dramatically. "What if he thinks I didn't WANT to call him?" The thought makes his chest twist painfully.
Because the truth is:
He wanted to call him so badly that he kept his hand with the number away from water, dirt, sweat, and even air...
until one unlucky splash ruined it.
"I'm so stupid," he mumbles. He checks his phone for the 40th time.
Still no unknown numbers.
Still no missed calls.
Still no messages from a mystery Joshua.
Of course there aren't. Joshua is probably somewhere thinking Seokmin didn't care. That thought hurts more than a rugby tackle to the ribs.
Seokmin slips on his watch, grabs his suit, and heads toward the door. He stops.His eyes drift to his palm. Just a clean hand now.
He traces where the digits once were. A small, fond, helpless smile touches his lips. "I hope I see you again," he whispers softly. "Just once more."
He sighs, stretches his shoulders, and sets his face into a professional expression. "Okay, Lee Seokmin. Time to go be a responsible adult athlete," he mutters.
He opens the door. Straightens himself. And leaves for the gala —
still sulky,
still heartbroken,
still thinking about the boy who kissed his cheek...
...but completely unaware that he's about to walk right back into Joshua Hong's life.
Joshua has never dressed this fast in his entire life. He practically springs out of bed the moment he remembers where he is going — the promotional event, the one he normally finds boring, repetitive, predictable...
But today?
Today he is practically glowing. Because Seokmin—the big, sweet, gorgeous, muscle-brained guy who made breakfast for him, spoke gently to him, and smelled like fresh soap—is coming to the event.
Joshua tries pretending it is normal excitement. It isn't. He keeps smiling to himself while brushing his hair. He changes his shirt three times. He applies a little cologne, then a little more, then panics and airs it out.
He keeps replaying that night like a movie: Seokmin carrying him without complaint, Seokmin fussing over him like a gentle giant, Seokmin cooking quietly in his kitchen as if it was the most normal thing in the world, Seokmin smiling when Joshua kissed his cheek.
And then... nothing. No call. A little part of him has curled up in disappointment.
Maybe Seokmin doesn't want to call him. Maybe he just isn't interested. Maybe Joshua read too much into the softness in his eyes.
But even then— Joshua still wants to see him again. Just one more time. Just to confirm if all of that night has really happened or if he dreamt it.
He straightens his jacket, takes one last glance in the mirror, and whispers to himself: "Okay, Joshua. Act normal. Don't bounce around like an idiot."
He absolutely bounces around like an idiot. On the way there... His leg wouldn't stop shaking in the car. His coworker keeps eyeing him like: "Why are you so... cheerful? You're never cheerful at 9 AM."
Joshua pretends to look out the window, but his heart is sprinting.
Will Seokmin recognize him instantly?
Will he act cold because he regretted helping him?
Will he smile again like he did in his kitchen?
Joshua's chest warms at the memory—the shy, surprised blink Seokmin gave when Joshua kissed his cheek. A small, stupid, hopeful thought slips in: Maybe he does want to call. Maybe something happened. Maybe it isn't rejection.
Entering the venue...Joshua steps into the event hall—And instantly, his eyes scan the entire place.Cameras. Banners. Staff running around.
And then—
There.
A familiar broad back. Shoulders way too wide to be anyone else. Hair slightly messy like he rushed. Dressed in his suit, looking both handsome and sulky at the same time.
Joshua's breath catches. His heart skips. His fingers curls at his sides.
He's here.
His lips stretch into a smile he can't control. Every doubt vanishes. Every insecurity dissolves. He takes a slow breath, steadies himself, and walks toward Seokmin— Excited. Nervous. Warm.
Ready to pretend he didn't spend all morning trying to look perfect.
The hall is already alive when Seokmin arrives—
soft golden lighting, low music humming through the speakers, people laughing over champagne, and clusters of guests swaying on the dance floor.
A warm, glittering chaos.
He steps into the hall, still frustrated from earlier.
The lost number.
Joshua's number.
The number he washed off his palm like an idiot.
He tries to focus and talk with guests. He really does. But every few seconds, his eyes drift across the hall— thinking about that one person. The boy with soft brown eyes and a smile that made his lungs malfunction.
He exhales heavily.
His head turns left, right—eyes searching over suits, dresses, glitter, silhouettes—
until his gaze catches on a figure near the side of the room.
And then
They lock eyes.
Joshua stops breathing for a beat.
Seokmin freezes completely.
The world around them drifts into a soft blur.
Only the music keeps moving.
Joshua's lips curve into the warmest, shyest smile.
The kind of smile that reaches his eyes and softens everything inside him.
Seokmin's eyes widen—surprised, relieved, stunned.
Like he's seeing sunlight after a long night.
For a moment, neither of them moves.
Then Joshua takes a step.
And Seokmin, almost unconsciously, takes one too.
They stop only a foot apart.
Close enough to feel each other's body heat.
Close enough for the music to shift into something quieter, softer.
Seokmin can't look away. His gaze moves from Joshua's eyes... to his hair... to the tiny mole under his lip... and back again.
He looks like a man trying not to stare— and failing miserably.
Joshua raises an eyebrow, smirking, playful but soft. "You're staring."
Seokmin swallows. "I can't help it."
His voice comes out lower than he intended.
People nearby glance at them—because the chemistry is impossible to ignore.
Two men standing in the middle of a crowded hall, glowing like they're the only ones here.
Seokmin breathes in, gathers courage. He extends a hand toward Joshua— slowly, carefully, as if offering something fragile. "Can I have this dance?"
Joshua's heart stutters. He places his hand in Seokmin's— their fingers fitting together easily, naturally. And then Seokmin pulls him gently into the crowd.
The music shifts into something warm and unhurried, a slow rhythm that seems to recognize the moment unfolding between them.
Joshua's hand still rests in Seokmin's, small and warm, and Seokmin can't stop noticing how right it feels. He leads Joshua onto the dance floor—not pulling, not pushing, just gently guiding with a steady, careful touch.
Joshua follows, soft steps, eyes half-focused on Seokmin instead of the crowd. They stop at a spot where the lighting falls golden across Joshua's hair.
Seokmin's heart thuds. He places his right hand on Joshua's waist—tentative at first, hovering for a second before settling fully. Joshua shivers at the contact, almost imperceptibly.
Joshua lifts his own hand and rests it flat against Seokmin's chest— right over his heartbeat, warm through the thin fabric. Their other hands remain linked, fingers intertwined, fitting like they were supposed to be there.
Slowly, they sway. Seokmin's thumb moves in slow circles against Joshua's hip, almost unconsciously. Joshua's fingers curl slightly over Seokmin's suit, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing.
Their shoes brush lightly. Their bodies move in small, intimate circles.
Joshua's voice is soft, almost playful: "You dance well."
Seokmin lets out a breathy laugh. "I'm trying not to step on your feet."
Joshua raises an eyebrow. "You're doing great so far."
They move a little closer— Joshua's chest lightly brushing Seokmin's. Seokmin's breath warm against Joshua's temple.
Then Seokmin finally speaks what's been sitting on his tongue since they met eyes. "So... what are you doing here?"
Joshua looks up at him with a spark of mischief. "Work."
"Work?" Seokmin blinks.
Joshua nods, lips twitching in amusement. "Mm-hmm. I'm the head of the marketing department."
Seokmin's grip on his waist falters for a second. "You—what?"
Joshua giggles under his breath, enjoying the reaction. "The same company that hired you as the brand ambassador."
"...Oh."
The realization hits Seokmin like a gentle punch.
He stares at Joshua, completely thrown. "You're... my boss?"
Joshua laughs outright. "No, no—just the guy who handles the campaigns. The billboards. The photoshoots. The social media strategy."
He leans in slightly, teasing: "The one who gets the final say on your pictures."
Seokmin's ears turn pink. "Oh."
Joshua grins, leaning even closer. "Relax. I like your pictures."
Seokmin's hand tightens on Joshua's waist, pulling him a little closer without meaning to. Their foreheads almost touch. The music swells, slow, romantic—almost too perfect.
Joshua presses his palm more firmly against Seokmin's chest, feeling the heartbeat jump. "So... you didn't call."
Seokmin's jaw tenses."I wanted to."
"Really?"
Seokmin nods, leaning in until his lips nearly brush Joshua's ear. "I lost the number."
Joshua pulls back just enough to see his face. "You... lost it?"
Seokmin cringes. "I washed my hands. And—look, I swear I wasn't ignoring you."
A soft laugh escapes Joshua. It melts the last bit of tension between them. "I actually thought you weren't interested."
Seokmin's hand shifts on Joshua's waist, fingers spreading, warm and firm. "Joshua... I've been looking for you since that night."
Joshua's breath catches. Their steps slow until they're almost standing still, just rocking gently in each other's arms.
Seokmin's other hand slides up—slowly, carefully—tracing up Joshua's arm, lingering on his shoulder, then resting lightly at the base of his neck.
Joshua's fingertips drift up from Seokmin's chest to the collar of his shirt, playing with the fabric there. Their faces inch closer.
Joshua feels Seokmin's breath on his lips. Seokmin's gaze drops, once... twice... lingering.
Joshua whispers, voice barely steady: "If you keep looking at my mouth like that... I'll start thinking you want to kiss me."
Seokmin swallows hard, eyes flicking up to meet his again. He doesn't deny it. Doesn't step back. Doesn't laugh. He just holds Joshua's gaze— deep, warm, full of longing. His thumb strokes Joshua's hip again, slow and deliberate.
Joshua's hand slides up the front of Seokmin's shirt— to his collar, to his neck, to the warm skin just beneath it. Their bodies press closer.
The music continues, soft around them, as if the whole room is watching their tension crystallize.
Seokmin whispers, voice barely there: "Maybe I do."
Joshua's breath shivers. Their noses almost brush.
Their lips are a single heartbeat away—
Joshua is the one who breaks the moment.
He doesn't pull away. He doesn't step back. He simply reaches down, takes Seokmin's hand— fingers slipping between his, warm and sure and tugs gently.
Seokmin blinks, breath catching. "J-Joshua...?"
Joshua just gives him that soft, dangerous smile. "Come with me."
Seokmin's heart stumbles. Joshua's hand is small but firm around his, guiding him through the crowd, weaving between chatting guests and waiters carrying glasses.
Seokmin follows without a second thought. Not because he's being pulled. But because every step Joshua takes feels like gravity itself.
They reach a hallway. Dimly lit. Quiet. A little too intimate. Joshua pushes open an empty conference room, steps inside, still holding Seokmin's hand.
Seokmin stands in the doorway for half a second— uncertain, breathless, hopeful.
Joshua's voice drops to a whisper. "Come in."
Seokmin does. Joshua closes the door behind them.
Then—slowly—he turns the lock. The click echoes through the small room.
Seokmin's breath shakes. "Joshua... are you sure?"
Joshua walks toward him—slow steps, soft eyes, confident smile. He stops just inches away. Their chests nearly touch. "If I wasn't sure," he murmurs. "I wouldn't have brought you here."
Seokmin exhales through his nose, shaky, like he's holding back the world.
Joshua lifts a hand and traces a line down Seokmin's jaw, slow and careful, fingertips soft against warm skin. "I want to kiss you," Joshua says softly. "Only if you want it too."
The silence in the room is thick, heavy with things left unsaid. They stand close, the expensive fabric of their suits brushing together with every small shift in weight.
Seokmin moves first. It isn't a rush; it's a gravitational pull. He has to stoop slightly, his broad frame casting a shadow over Joshua, before he tilts his head and closes the final distance.
The first press of their lips is deceptively slow—a testing of waters. Joshua's mouth is soft, yielding, and Seokmin hums a low sound of approval against it. He doesn't just kiss him; he savors him.
Seokmin's lips part Joshua's with a gentle, coaxing pressure, his tongue sweeping along the seam of Joshua's mouth, teasing a gasp out of him that tastes like mint.
Then, the tempo snaps.
Joshua's patience evaporates. His hands fly up, fisting tightly into the crisp lapels of Seokmin's suit jacket, and he yanks the taller man down hard. The impact of their mouths is messy and desperate.
The slow caress turns into a devouring heat. Seokmin sucks Joshua's plush bottom lip into his mouth, nipping it gently before soothing the sting with a wet, heavy sweep of his tongue. He kisses him deep, drinking down the breathless sighs that Joshua tries to keep trapped in his throat.
"Seokmin," Joshua breathes out, the name breaking apart against Seokmin's mouth.
That broken sound is the undoing of Seokmin's restraint. His large hands, which have been resting tentatively on Joshua's hips, tighten their grip, the warmth of his palms searing through the layers of dress shirt and blazer.
With a surge of strength that looks terrifyingly effortless, Seokmin squeezes Joshua's waist and hoists him upward. Joshua's feet leave the floor, his toes dragging uselessly against the carpet as he is brought up to Seokmin's eye level.
The sudden loss of gravity makes Joshua instinctively cling tighter. He abandons Seokmin's collar, his fingers tangling deep into the hair at the nape of Seokmin's neck to anchor himself. He arches into the hold, pressing his chest flush against Seokmin's broad, solid torso.
They lose themselves in it. Time seems to warp, measured only by the wet, slick sound of their lips moving together and the friction of suit fabric rubbing against suit fabric. Seokmin tilts Joshua's head back, exposing the line of his throat, but he refuses to leave his mouth. He kisses the corners of Joshua's lips, then centers back to suck harder on his tongue, chasing the taste of him.
Joshua is lightheaded, dizzy from the height and the lack of oxygen. He makes a small, whining sound in his throat, his legs instinctively wrapping around Seokmin's hips to pull them even closer. Seokmin groans, the vibration rumbling straight into Joshua's chest, and his hands slide down to cup Joshua's thighs, holding him up as if he weighs nothing at all.
For a long while, there is nothing else. Just the heat of the room, the scent of expensive cologne, and the overwhelming, intoxicating pressure of Seokmin's mouth claiming his own.
Eventually, Seokmin tries to shift them, perhaps to move toward the wall or a chair, and the motion breaks the spell just enough.
Joshua pulls back.
It is only an inch, but the loss of contact is jarring. Seokmin chases him immediately, his eyes blown wide and dark, pupils dilated, leaning in to recapture Joshua's swollen, reddened lips.
He is stopped by a single, slender finger pressing firmly against his mouth.
Seokmin freezes, his chest heaving, his tie crooked and his hair a mess from Joshua's fingers. He blinks, trying to clear the haze of lust from his brain as he slowly lowers Joshua back down until his shoes touch the floor.
Joshua smooths down his own rumpled suit jacket, though his cheeks are flushed a distinctive shade of pink and his lips look thoroughly kissed. He looks at Seokmin, his eyes glittering with a mix of lingering desire and sudden mischief.
"No more kisses," Joshua whispers, his voice raspy and wrecked.
Seokmin looks like he's been slapped, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he tries to catch his breath.
Joshua takes a step back, a playful, devilish smile curling the corner of his mouth. "Not until you court me properly."
With one last lingering look at Seokmin's flustered state, Joshua turns on his heel and walks out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
The click of the latch is deafening in the sudden silence.
Seokmin doesn’t move. He can’t. His feet feel rooted to the expensive carpet, and his entire body is humming with a restless energy that has nowhere to go.
He lifts a hand, his fingers trembling slightly, and presses them against his mouth. It burns. He can still taste the sharp, bright mint of Joshua’s breath. He can still feel the phantom weight of Joshua’s body pressed against his chest, the way those slender legs wrapped around him, the desperate grip of fingers in his hair.
God.
He lets out a long, shaky exhale that is half-laugh, half-groan. He walks over to the nearest reflective surface—a dark window pane—and winces at what he sees.
He looks wrecked. His tie is pulled askew, the knot loosened by Joshua’s impatient hands. His hair, usually styled to perfection, is sticking up in tufts at the back. His lips are swollen, a tell-tale red that no amount of composure can hide.
Court him properly.
The words replay in his head, echoing louder than his racing heart.
Seokmin loosens his tie further, pulling it off completely and tossing it onto a nearby chair. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to tame the mess, though a grin is starting to break through his shock.
He thought this was just chemistry. He thought they were just two people gravitating toward each other because the attraction was too loud to ignore. But Joshua doesn't want just chemistry. He doesn't want a quick fumble in a side room during a gala.
He wants the flowers. He wants the dates. He wants the effort.
Seokmin stares at the closed door, the grin widening until it hurts his cheeks.
"Court you properly," Seokmin whispers to the empty room, testing the weight of the promise.
He adjusts his jacket, straightening the lapels that Joshua had clenched so tightly just moments ago. The frustration of stopping is there, sharp and aching, but it’s drowned out by a new, surging determination.
He checks his reflection one last time, fixes his cuffs, and heads for the door. He has a lot of planning to do.
"I'm definitely—definitely courting him."
From the very next day, Joshua starts noticing little gifts appearing on his desk—each one unmistakably from Seokmin. Some days it's a neatly wrapped chocolate bar, other days a tiny bouquet of wildflowers, and once even a small paper crane with a silly, encouraging note tucked inside. None of it is loud or dramatic, but every gesture carries that soft, careful affection only Seokmin has. And without either of them saying anything out loud, everyone can already sense what these two are slowly becoming—two idiots on the verge of falling into something dangerously close to dating.