Chapter Text
These fuckers are getting on my last nerve, he thinks to himself.
Geum Seongje heaves out a sigh of frustration, cursing at the higher powers for all the events in his life that have lead him to this very moment. If only, he thinks. If only his great uncle hadn’t founded this god forsaken company,if only his father had never inherited the aforementioned god forsaken company, if only he wasn’t the first born child of his father and the sole heir to this hellhole.
Oh, if only Seongje hadn’t been born, he thinks to himself wistfully, he wouldn’t have had to be the CEO of this fuckass company that he couldn’t give a rat's ass about.
But alas, the higher powers did not have Seongje’s back and so he is here, in his unnecessarily oversized office, floor to ceiling glass windows behind him covering the entire width of the room giving him one of the most sought after views of the Seoul skyline. He’s sitting on his custom made ergonomic swivel chair made of black leather, matching the equally luxurious desk he is currently working on. A laptop and two monitors are perched on his table, blocking his view of the black dune marble flooring and the bespoke Armani armchairs and coffee table in front of him.
There’s an elaborate coffee machine set up on the other corner of the room, and above it, almost covering the wall, is a large painting of birds flying, the colors vibrant in the glooming and dark atmosphere surrounding the space.
Seongje never liked that painting. The freedom so plainly depicted in it, a humorous juxtaposition to how he feels every time he looks at it.
It hasn't been long since the sun has set, the hues of crimson and orange have faded into a gloomy blue-grey, the window in Seongje's office now painting a clear image of the city lights. It is way too late for his liking to still be cooped up in this dungeon that he calls his workplace but alas, this is his current predicament, on a video meeting with an associate that he definitely should have just scheduled for the coming week.
Once his call (read:tormenting ritual) ends, he reaches for the grey button at the bottom of the telephone situated on the right corner of his table, and in a few seconds the voice of his assistant fills the room.
"Yes, Mr.Geum."
Seongje speaks, frustration clear in his tone as he rubs his eyes, irritated from the prolonged exposure to his monitors. "Seongmok, please, for the love of god tell me I have no more meetings left for the day."
"No sir, 'Hanmi Labs' was your last meeting of the day. Shall I call your driver to take you to the bar?"
Seongje lets out a sigh of relief, he wants to get the fuck out of here. "No. Bring me my keys."
⋆˙⟡
The cool sweep of the nighttime breeze grazes Seongje's skin through the rolled down windows of his car as he zips through the city, puffs of smoke leaving his lips, courtesy of the cigarette held between his fingers. There's red lights outlining the interior of his sports car almost resembling a halo around him and a rock band plays from the stereo as Seongje absentmindedly hums the lyrics beneath his breath.
The drive to 'Paradiso Bar' is as easy as can be, the roads leading to the high-end establishment familiar to him like the back of his hand. The valet stiffens at the sight of him, the difference in class apparent in the low bow he delivers and the tremble of his hand as the keys are tossed onto his palm. The hostess offers a bow of a similar form as she greets Seongje, the classic customer service smile plastered onto her expression, "Good evening Mr.Geum, how are you today? shall I take your coat off for you?"
Seongje offers the woman with nothing but a curt nod as the woman takes off his coat for him, swiftly passing it to the coat check. "Mr.Na has already arrived, I shall escort you to your table."
He follows her as she leads him towards their usual table, in a dimly lit nook of the bar, away from prying eyes and unwanted attention. Baekjin sits, his shoulders straight against the backrest of the chair and his legs crossed, the dark navy suit blazer sitting neatly on his figure as though he just wore it, when in actuality he's had it on for hours now. The human embodiment of 'prim and proper', Seongje thinks to himself in amusement.
A weekly occurrence in their lives, this Friday meetup at the Paradiso is. Their only chance to wind down after five days of toiling and slaving away in the green, greedy clasps of the corporate world.
"Baekjinnie" he says in mock despair, "Who told you to start without me?", he whines, glancing at the half empty whiskey glass his friend seems to be nursing. "If you had heeded my advice and just moved the Hanmi meeting to Monday morning, you would not have been late. Lee Chaehan does not know when to stop speaking," says his friend, his signature stoic expression present on his face like always.
Seongje rolls his eyes, gesturing his hands as if to say bla bla bla, "Yeah, yeah the great Na Baekjin. Always right, never wrong. Fuck off will you."
Seongje takes the seat across him, he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt up his arm, loosening his tie and hanging his blazer over the back of his chair. The antithesis of his friend, really. Baekjin purses his lips, the only indication of disapproval at Seongje's unorderliness.
A moment later, the waiter appears and asks Seongje if he would like his 'usual' and in a few moments he is sipping on a glass of The Macallan and he looks over at Baekjin, "So what's new?"
Baekjin pauses for a beat to think and then, "I had been in correspondence with R&D, and it seems that our new antibiotic has passed the "In Vitro" pre-clinical trials and according to the guidelines—", Seongje lets out a lengthy, drawn out groan, exasperation evidently surging through his voice. Maybe Seongje is the only one who sees Paradiso as his chance to wind down. Unlike him, Baekjin is a raging workaholic, the man, for some godforsaken reason that Seongje could not possibly fathom, actually likes his job.
"God, Baekjinah. We just got off work, can we keep the whole Vice-President and CEO song and dance at the workplace?". Seongje chuckles, in disbelief, " 'i had been in correspondence', a walking email, that's what you are".
Baekjin, not amused at the fun being poked at him adeptly changes the topic, "how is Wooseok?"
"Oh, I broke up with him," Seongje says absentmindedly while pecking on the roasted almonds that were set on the table along with their drinks. "He was too clingy, and he kept asking me about work? I think he just wanted a job at our company," he says while rolling his eyes.
"Oh my god, and you!", Seongje's eyes widen like he just remembered something. "I heard you left midway on the date with that golfer? You asshole, do you know the shit I pulled to get you that date?"
"He kept talking about golf, my time was being wasted. If you want a deal with 'Yohan Co', find another way that doesn't include me taking the Chairman's son out for dinner."
"It's because you're so pretty Baekjin-ah, all these boys are so infatuated with you. It's only right we use this gift of yours to our advantage," he chuckles, his friend's distaste in Seongje's ways bringing him so much amusement.
Baekjin has always been more suited for the company than Seongje has and ever will be. He would gladly hand over his position to Baekjin if he could, but the truth stands that Baekjin is not a 'Geum', and the matters surrounding the company and his family are much too complex for him to just plainly up and take-off from Geum Pharma. So for now, until he finds a loophole through the many hurdles that currently stand in his way, he has no alternative but to be content with the way things already are.
Fridays at Paradiso most often go like this: Baekjin always undoubtedly reaches first. Seongje will arrive at least thirty minutes later owing to him having the time management skills of a sloth and perpetually not being able to get any of his work done on time. They'll drink whiskey and eat dinner and talk (mostly Seongje) about the people that pissed them off that week, and when it is just about one and a half hours into their meetup, Baekjin's patience for Seongje will start to wear thin and he will get up to leave. And Seongje, will find someone that is pleasing enough on the eye to charm his way into their bed for the night.
Today will also presumably be like any other Friday.
⋆˙⟡
The very first thing Seongje registers as he wakes with a splitting ache in his temples, is that he is in his own bed.
Interesting.
He has grown so accustomed to waking on Saturday's in a foreign bed surrounded by unfamiliar bedsheets, he has to double check whether he really in fact is in his own room, his eyes squinting while he scans his surroundings through the harsh morning rays from the windows. He finds his phone on the nightstand and calls the only person who will know what on earth happened to him last night.
Baekjin, much to his frustration does not pick up on the first try so he dials again, his free hand clutching is forehead as it throbs and he hears the sound of his call being picked up.
"I hoped you would have the common sense to understand that if I didn't pick up the first time it is because I do not want to be spoken to."
"Why am I in my bed?"
Baekjin sighs in annoyance, "I called your driver last night, to take you back home."
"No, why am I in my bed."
He can literally hear Baekjin rolling his eyes, and the voice on the other end of the line is clipped as it says, "Seongje. You got drunk off your ass last night, and then you tired to flirt with the new bartender. I was about to leave you to whatever it is that you do when we're done when Wooseok came in and the rage on his face when he saw you flirting with that man was so unsettling, and Seongje, you couldn't even recognize the poor guy. You kept calling him Woomin. And that just enraged him even more. He said one too many class words about you being a selfish prick, and I finally had to step in or else he would have hit you and the bartender with the vodka bottle he was holding."
"Damn," Seongje chuckles at the absurdity that just came out of Baekjin's mouth.
"Of course you think this is funny. You ruined my night and you scarred that poor bartender for life. I'm begging you, if you have any respect for my well-being, please just stop sleeping around. I am sick and tired of picking up after the messes you make."
"Okay mom," The phone beeps as the call is cut from Baekjin's end.
Usually, Seongje would brush off anything his best friend has to say about his 'extra-curricular' activities, Baekjin's reprimands going in from one ear and straight out the other. But today, he finds that he quite likes waking up in his bed, relishes even, in the fact that he does not have to do the walk of shame from the house of someone he won't even remember the name of.
Maybe Baekjin is right. Maybe, just maybe, Seongje should take a much needed break from men.
He let's that thought simmer in the back of his mind as he gets ready for the day. When he's not sleeping around and wasting away his days off from work, Seongje will almost always be found at 'Wolf's Gym'. His safe haven. The only building he owns out of pure self-indulgence as opposed to his countless other ones that he purchases only because his financial advisor coerces him to.
The smell of sweat and rubber welcome him along with the artificial scent of the citrus cleaning products as he walks into the establishment in a pair of grey boxing shorts and a t-shirt. Dongha, his assistant that looks after the place greets him upon arrival, in his hands a water bottle and a pair of boxing gloves as well as a corner towel slung over his forearm.
"Good morning Mr.Geum, I trust your morning has been well."
"Is the ring ready?"
"Yes Sir, your sparring partner for the day is waiting for you inside. Allow me to put your gloves on for you."
Seongje lets Dongha tend to him and lead him to the boxing ring. His asylum. The one place he truly feels at ease. And as Seongje blocks and jabs at the man Dongha has picked out for him today, he slowly feels his mind lull into a sense of calm he only has ever felt when he is in the ring. All of his other thoughts are on a back-burner as he directs his focus towards the movements made by his opponent. Body on high alert as he uses the motions made by their shoulders, their eyes, their arms and their hips to detect their next move. Attention centered on the style of technique the boxer fights with, their favorite punches, any falters in step that can provide with the perfect opening for a satisfying hit.
A good forty minutes later, the session is over and his opponent is sent back, and Seongje sits on the couch near the ring, sipping water while Dongha wipes the sweat off his neck and his face. For the most part Seongje is satisfied, he got a good work out in and the man he sparred with even put up a good fight. So why is there still an itch in the back of his mind? As if his craving has just missed the mark of being thoroughly satiated.
"Was the opponent to your liking Mr.Geum?"
"Get someone better next week."
"I apologize for the match not being up to your liking. I will seek out someone more competent for your next session". There is a beat of silence, as Dongha hesitates to speak further.
"What?" Seongje says gruffly, it is apparent that the itch left behind by the sparring has soured his mood.
"The instructor for the kids taekwondo lessons quit yesterday due to a family emergency, I wanted to request your permission to put up a job listing to find a new one," Dongha is visibly nervous to broach the subject to Seongje, afraid that Seongje's mood might be worse than what meets the eye.
"Why the fuck do we still have taekwondo lessons, let alone children's taekwondo lessons?"
"I do not mean to frustrate you sir, but it is the main source of income for the gym."
"Fuck, fine. Do whatever you want," he says as he haphazardly throws the gloves onto to the sofa and walks towards where his car is waiting for him. Seongje speaks without sparing a glance behind him, "I'll be here same time tomorrow," and he walks out the door without bothering to listen to his assistant's response.
⋆˙⟡
Go Hyuntak is late again.
He gains his first smidgen of consciousness, looks at the time as his eyes widen with realization. It is eleven am right now. He's only just opened his eyes, the poor thing. That too, because of the incessant yelping of the chihuahua next door. He had promised his friends that this time he really, truly will not be late. That he will stand up to his manager and not be coerced into another double shift. That he will get back home early and finally, actually get some sleep. That he would wake up on time and meet them for the brunch meetup at twelve pm, just like they had planned over two weeks ago.
Just the subway to the restaurant will take Hyuntak an hour. In other words Go Hyuntak is royally fucked. And the next thing he knows he is frantically running around, one hand holding his toothbrush and the other holding the waistband of his jeans in a poor attempt to brush his teeth and hop into his pants at the same time.
He yanks his phone out from the charging cable as he is running out his room when he notices the switch to the socket was never even turned on in the first place. His phone has just enough charge for a solid run time of about three minutes before it dies.
Fantastic. Extravagant even.
He still persists, gets his socks and shoes on in record time and then it's a sprint towards his door. After he snatches his wallet and keys from the moomin themed key dish that his friend Juntae so kindly gifted him, he jams the keys it into the key hole. He's almost out, he can finally taste victory after the tornado that was this morning, and if he can make a run for it he might even be able to make the next train that comes in ten minutes. Then his friends might let the tardiness slide. He'd only be a little late. He finally won't have to be on the receiving end of another lecture on time management, and he's so proud of himself when all of a sudden he freezes.
The door is not opening.
It's just not opening? He tries the lock every which way he possibly can, scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. He is sure the door is unlocked so why isn't it opening?
He takes a quick look through the peephole and he almost cries at the absurdity because there is a dressing table positioned right against his door. There appears to be furniture littered all over what he can he see of the hallway outside his apartment, and oh someone must be moving in. Is this a joke? Go Hyuntak may just be the unluckiest person on this planet.
So he does the next best thing he can. He rushes to his telephone and calls the building security, gnawing on his lip and tapping his feet on the floor repeatedly, mentally cursing at his plight. The man does not pick up. And it is only after an expansive, excruciatingly long fifteen minutes that the call picks up and then another ten minutes go by as he waits for the security to come up to his floor. He can hear the muffled sounds of the man conversing with the movers from behind his door and at last there's the scraping sound of the table being moved.
Gotak moves as if he's been set on fire, opening his door with a force strong enough to almost break and dashing at the speed of light. He's operating on pure adrenaline, the scenery around him blurs in his peripheral as speeds through the block to the subway station, and his friends surely must have called him. There should be a least fifteen missed calls waiting for him but his phone had flat lined a long time ago, so now the only thing he can do to not make them worry any further is get to them as quickly as he can.
It is only when he is finally on the train, on an empty seat he found in a surprising display of sheer of luck after the events that just transpired, chest heaving rapidly as he tries to catch his breath when he thinks back on his morning and just the past couple years in general.
Gotak is convinced that there is a higher power out to get him. It is like as if one day, the gods decided that it would be easier to have one less person to tend to in this world with a population of over eight billion people and Gotak would be the sacrificial lamb. It is the only possible answer, he reasons with himself. Because, then there is no other elucidation for the cluster fuck that has been his life recently.
As a child it always felt like he could see his future clearly. It was so easy for him to visualize himself in his taekwondo uniform, black belt tied around his waist and standing at the olympics as if it was the only answer. It had been ingrained into him, instilled into his mind through the countless tournaments he vanquished, through the adults that praised him — "You are going to be our nation's pride, Go Hyuntak!" — and it was set in stone, or so he thought.
He let the pride get to him, it slithered and gripped at his judgment and he pushed himself too hard, so eager to meet the expectations that he set for himself. It may have been the exhaustion that had finally caught up to him after training too hard even when his coach ordered against overstraining himself, or it might have been the adjudging gaze of the college scouts drilling through his every maneuver, and suddenly one wrong move had thrown a curve ball to everything he had prepared for since he was old enough to remember. His knee unsalvageable as he watched the future he had visualized for himself shatter like glass, the shards clustered in tiny sharp crystals around his feet.
⋆˙⟡
"Gotak, you promised you won't be late," and after one look at the state Gotak has arrived in, sweaty and a highly out of breath, he says eyes wide with worry, "Are you okay?"
"I am so, so sorry Sieun-ah." Hyuntak's voice comes out in a wheeze as he tries to calm himself after the speed at which he had run to the restaurant. His breath comes out in shallow and uneven puffs as he tries to explain the nonsensical series of events that was his morning.
Juntae looks at him with pity in his eyes, passing him a glass of water. "It's okay Tak-ah, we're just relieved that everything is fine. We were worried when our calls stopped going through."
"Sorry," Hyuntak repeats, sheepish and embarrassed at causing his friends trouble. He drinks his water and all of Baku's virgin shirley temple at an alarming speed ignoring the loud whine of "gogo what the hell" and then looks over at his friends.
"So what's new?"
He listens as they update each other on the happenings in their lives. Suho and Sieun have finally moved into an apartment together and are now raising a cute black cat that Suho has named Sieunnie. A popular food vlogger visited 'Baku Chicken' recently, and now business is busier than ever with people even queuing up for hours just to try the food. Baku has been trying to convince his dad to open a new branch. And Juntae's recent BL manga has become a hit on a certain manga platform, his cheeks reddening when he tells them just how much money he has made from it. Seeing his friends so happy instills something warm within him but at the same time there's something else and it makes him feel like a terrible friend. A twinge of jealousy settles in his mind as he watches in awe at how his friends have achieved their goals, and he wonders where he went wrong. Why won't things align for him the same way it does for everyone else?
Suho clears his throat bringing Hyuntak out of his self-pitying, "Tak, what happened to the gym I recommended you to, they were looking for a new Taekwondo instructor? Wooyoung told me he'd put in a good word for you."
Hyuntak doesn't maintain eye contact as he speaks, fingers playing with the wrapper of a straw. "Oh that didn't work out. Apparently, my injury would "get in the way". He utterly loathes the pity that colors his friends' faces at his words, and for a split second he wishes he'd just stayed home.
The first couple months after he was told he would no longer be able to compete was hell on earth and Hyuntak was as miserable as can be. He was terrible to his friends, snapping at any words of encouragement with enough venom to poison and his nights were spent compulsively replaying the footage of his previous matches, from back when he was capable. When he was unstoppable.
But college applications was nearing and Hyuntak's mom did not raise a quitter, she is indisputably the strongest woman he knows. She raised him all by herself, taking extra shifts at the hospital she works at as a nurse to provide for the both of them after his sorry excuse of a father disappeared from their lives. She worked hard to support Hyuntak's dreams and always made time to show up for all of his tournaments, and it was her one dream to be able to see her son go to college so he concluded his self wallowing and decided to get up and find his next path.
It was only natural that he majored in physical education. All he ever knew was Taekwondo, and his coaches convinced him that his knee would not curb him from being a Taekwondo teacher. But now here he is at 23, a full year after graduation, working shitty part-time jobs, barely making enough to pay off his rent and applying to any and every job related to teaching Taekwondo everyday like a madman. He doesn't know why he even bothers to apply anymore, they always say the same thing. It always circles back to his knee.
"Tak-ah how many times do I have to ask you to just work with me at Baku Chicken? You work as a telemarketer for god's sake." Baku's voice raises at the ridiculousness of his friend's situation, "You are an athlete Tak-tak, and that manager of yours runs you down to the bone."
"And you should also move out from that apartment Tak-ah, you know very well that neighborhood is seedy," Juntae adds meekly. "Why don't you come stay with me, or you could stay at Suho and Sieun's place until you find a better apartment, and oh!" he says, eager to help his friend. "Your mum keeps asking you to move back in, why don't you stay with her? She'd be so happy to have you."
"Baku, I mean this with all the fondness I have for you but working at Baku Chicken would be a sensory nightmare. There is no way in hell I can stand listening to the My Little Pony soundtrack on repeat for hours on end."
"Bitch!", Baku outbursts, "Friendship is magic Gogo!" and then pouting with his head down, "I even made a name tag for you that said Rainbow Dash on it."
Hyuntak pats Baku's back to console, "That is precisely why I won't come. And Juntae, that is very sweet of you but you live with your parents and I would feel terrible to inconvenience you all, and as much as my mum would be happy to have me, she has also spent a good chunk of her life tending to me. I want her to finally be able to live her life and not have to worry about me all the time. Also, Suho and Sieun's place?" Hyuntak raises his eyebrows in mock judgment as if to say 'really?'
"I'd rather not listen to our friends going at it every night." Sieun gives him a look to say "shut up" while Suho just laughs and kisses his boyfriend's cheek, as shameless as ever.
Hyuntak knows his friends are only trying so hard to help because of how much they care and his heart feels full at the adoration he feels for them. But for the longest time Hyuntak was used to being someone who was sturdy. Tough and reliable. He used to be so strong. Flying through his taekwondo training and competitions with ease. He was always moving, stamina knowing no bounds. He remembers helping his mum carry his groceries up the hill that leads up to their house, no sweat, always refusing to let her lift a finger. That's the kind of person he was.
Now his knee aches if he walks too long a distance, never mind a long distance uphill. His mum now uses a grocery cart that she lugs up to their house, and every single time, it causes an ugly feeling to swell up inside him. His mum worked tirelessly to put Hyuntak through school and university, that if he hadn't met with his accident, he would've gotten a full ride to. And his friends bless their hearts have been so patient with him, always attuned to him, ever knowing of when he needs a break, holding his backpack when his knee starts to give him a hard time, lending an ear whenever he needed to vent his frustrations.
Recently, his friends have started hinting at shifting his career path. Going into something like teaching p.e, instead of only his part-time jobs as he relentlessly applies to taekwondo jobs like a maniac to no avail. But this is something he needs. He knows he is being stubborn, it's an adjective used so habitually to describe him and he won't even deny it, the stubbornness a vice that has clung to him like an ivy to a tree since the day he was born. He wants to prove to himself that he can still stand on his own with taekwondo, that his strength, although different from what it once used to be, hasn't faded. Taekwondo still runs through him, and the thought of leaving it behind when it is all he has known, all he's lived and breathed for, it engulfs him with a rush of dread and leaves him feeling ill.
That day he goes home, dejected more so than usual. He hauls himself up the stairs because the elevator is broken, and his knee is screaming at him, begging for a reprieve. Like always, he opens his door and removes his shoes by entrance once he's inside, plops onto his couch and removes his knee brace to set it on the coffee table, and finally he takes his laptop from the same table to open his personal hell: the job portal.
The second he opens it his eyes widen to see a new listing, at a place called 'Wolf's Gym'. It's to teach taekwondo to kids. He quickly googles the place, and finds out it a pretty big, well-established gym. Oh, it's perfect. It would be an excellent start for Hyuntak's career.
And it was posted just an hour ago. He applies at the speed of light and to his bewilderment, he gets an email just a little over an hour later, asking if he'd be available to come down to the gym for an interview.
Hell yes.
He accepts almost instantaneously, and when he sleeps that night he dreams of him wearing his dobok in a spacious dojang, teaching the thing that is most important to him, and a clutter of wide eyed kids around him, hanging onto his every word, so eager to learn.
⋆˙⟡
Seongje barely puts his car in park, the wheels visibly over the line and the vehicle in between two parking spaces. He yanks open the door to the gym and starts straight towards where the punching bags are situated.
At the sight of his boss walking in, Dongha immediately appears as if out of thin air, boxing gloves held in his hands and astonishment evident in his features at seeing Seongje in his work clothes, dress shoes and all. On a Sunday? It is also way past noon and Seongje, if he ever pays a visit to the gym, always comes in at the morning or into the terribly late hours of the night.
"Mr.Geum! I thought you wouldn't be coming in. Would you like me to fetch you something more comfortable to change—", Seongje snatches the gloves from him, sheds his tie and blazer onto the floor near the punching bag and instantaneously begins to strike away, switching between different jabs and hooks, and Dongha does not initiate further conversation. His boss is undeniably in a sour mood, and as long as he wants those punches to continue being directed at the punching bag and not himself, he should leave Seongje to fist out his frustrations.
Seongje is annoyed, to say the least. Nettled at having to go in to his office for a meeting with a supplier on a fucking Sunday of all days. He was really, really, looking forward to not having to think about anything today. Maybe come to the gym a little bit in the morning, and then laze around and rot in bed all day. Just him, his tv and the food his god of a personal chef readies up for him. It appears so, that such a simple thing is too much to ask.
And for the perfect cherry on top, the meeting did not even go well. The suppliers were being so unreasonable and would not even hear out the terms Seongje and his colleagues were trying to lay out on the table. It is clear as day that they are planning to cut ties with Geum Pharma as soon as their contract ends in a couple months. Seongje couldn't care less, they can go to hell.
Or maybe he does care, seeing that he is here, decking the punching bag with enough strength to almost break it. The gloves start to irritate him, the leather interfering with him being able to completely lay out his frustrations so he pulls apart the strap of the gloves with his teeth, shedding it off to the side. The first collision of his knuckles with the fabric feels like a balm, and he repeats his movements until his legs and arms and wrists are all aching so wonderfully.
An hour later, he's thoroughly exhausted, and parched, and so he turns to Dongha who is waiting for him with two water bottles when he sees him.
Definitely early twenties. Boyish hairstyle, a neat undercut. Dress shirt and nice pants. Fit, dizzyingly toned figure. And most of all, a face carved by the gods with sharp brows and thin lips. Something within Seongje stutters. It is as if Adonis himself decided to honor this world with his presence. This is the most beautiful man he has ever seen in his life.
And the Adonis is looking right at him, with a gaze that Seongje cannot decipher. He feels as though he is in a trance and he almost moves to take a step forward when the man turns his head away and Seongje suddenly snaps out of it. He doesn't even know who this man is, but it doesn't stop the pang he feels in his chest at no longer having those beautiful eyes fixated on him.
He takes the water from his assistant, chugging it down in mere seconds and nudges his head towards the opposite side of the room where the other-worldly being is stood next to one of his staff, "Who is that?"
"Oh his name is Go Hyuntak, we just finished interviewing him for the kid's taekwondo instructor position. You do not have to worry about it Mr.Geum, I understand this matter does not interest you. We will take care of it."
He gives Dongha a stern look. "Why won't it interest me?", and Dongha is so clearly confused, he evidently does not know what to say that.
Seongje knows he is being the fattest hypocrite at the moment. He also knows that he did make it clear yesterday that he is unconcerned what Dongha does with the teaching position. But that was before. How was Seongje to know that such a deity would manifest in front of him, like an angel delivered right to his door step. But he can't falter in front his employees, how embarrassing would it be to so obviously turn to mush at the sight of a man? So he feigns non-chalance, looks at his phone as if he is checking an important email.
"If he's done with his interview why is he still standing there? Are you not hiring him?" It doesn't matter what Dongha's answer will be, Seongje would much rather fire his assistant than let this celestial entity vanish from his sight.
"I think the taekwondo instructor was asking him a few questions. He seems extremely qualified and has an excellent background in taekwondo, he also looks like he'd teach really well. But Mr.Geum, I am not sure if we should take him in."
At this moment, Seongje would like nothing more than to shove Dongha into a punching bag. "Why," he grits out tightly, palms in fists with his nails digging in, so that he doesn't accidentally punch his poor assistant. He looks over at the greek god, who's making conversation with the instructor again, and almost physically melts at the sight of him. But he also maybe, kind of wants to gouge out the eyes of his employee that is getting the uninterrupted attention of the divinity. His arms… they look so strong, tightly confined in the sleeves as he crosses his arms over his chest and oh his thighs must also be so sturdy. Seongje is starting to feel dizzy.
"He sustained an injury on his right knee a couple years ago, it may be a hindrance for the classes Mr.Geum."
Seongje promptly stops feeling dizzy at just the absurdity of what Dongha just said. Sure, he may be biased towards the man (the prettiest, most handsome man), but this just does not make any sense?
He scoffs, "Is he going to be beating up the kids Dongha?"
Dongha's eyes widen, "No sir, of course not!"
"Then it shouldn't be a problem won't it? You said it yourself that he seems excellent for the job. Introduce him to me."
⋆˙⟡
Hyuntak does not carry any expectations whatsoever. This will go like the billion other interviews that he has had the displeasure of attending throughout the past year. It will go impeccably well, they always do. They would be impressed at Hyuntak's background, amazed at his extensive knowledge of taekwondo, and they will harp about how Hyuntak would be the perfect candidate. Would be.
The progression of events unfolding today is familiar to Hyuntak like the back of his hand. The interviewer tells him he is thoroughly impressed by his résumé, that Hyuntak is more than qualified and that he has the experience they just so happen to be looking for. But Hyuntak is not dense.After the first ten interviews, the hope that would gush through him at these words started to wane, and now he feels nothing. Zilch, nada.
Afterwards, he is being led out of the office, with a promise to get back to him with a decision and Hyuntak almost laughs self deprecatingly because he knows exactly what that decision will be. The interviewer asks him many questions about his competing days, and although he would rather pound is head into a brick wall, he still answers politely, hoping that the prodding will end soon.
The telltale echo of a fist against leather reverberates around the room and suddenly Hyuntak's attention is caught elsewhere. There is a man in office formals? jabbing away at the punching bag as though it has personally offended him, hell he still has his dress shoes on, and Hyuntak can't help but think of how uncomfortable that might be.
He's certainly at least a decade older than him, his hair quite shaggy, black half rim eye glasses slipped low on his nose from the force of his punches and forearms visible from where his sleeves have been rolled up. But what strikes Hyuntak the most is not any of these details. Only one thought circulates his mind, as he continues to look him over.
This man is hot. He is so fucking hot Hyuntak thinks he might actually pass out. For a split second he almost wishes he could be the punching bag. Get it together Hyuntak, get it to- he watches as sweat runs down the sides of the mystery man's temples, and his jaw falls as if on instinct. Oh my god.
Hyuntak's distraction is noticeable, and the interviewer follows his gaze and smiles, as if about to tell a joke. "Ah that's Mr.Geum Seongje, our owner. He comes in from time to time to release stress by annihilating our punching bags."
"I wonder what's got himself so vexed this time," he says with a chuckle.
"Oh," Hyuntak breathes out. The capability of thinking has long since left his body. He's never even been into older men? Hyuntak is starting to feel warm all over, how can someone be so sexy, what the hell?
Geum Seongje stops punching and turns to get water and then they both make eye contact. Hyuntak is positive he is seconds away from disintegrating, and the thoughts that run through his minds in the next few seconds are pieces that he will be taking with him to his grave.
Hyuntak needs Geum Seongje to fuck him in every position known to man.
Hyuntak wants to lick the sweat coming off of Geum Seongje.
Hyuntak wants Geum Seongje to wreck his throat so thoroughly, that his dentist knows exactly what happened.
Hyuntak wants to change the laws of biology so he can have Geum Seongje’s babies.
Hyuntak wants Geum Seongje’s bruised hands wrapped around his neck.
Hyuntak needs to be in Geum Seongje’s bed. Like. Yesterday.
And now Geum Seongje is walking towards him.
What.
Why is he coming to Hyuntak? Now? When Hyuntak feels like he's going to spontaneously combust into flames?
Hyuntak severely doubts that he will be able to function like a normal human being. Maybe when Seongje opens his mouth, he'll have the voice of a weasel, and then Hyuntak will get the ick and the burning that he is currently feeling throughout his entire body will dissipate in an instant. Maybe Hyuntak should just make a run for it. He can see the door from where he is standing, and besides, he won't be getting this job anyway. Yes, he should probably start running. But before he can enact, Seongje is already standing in front of him and just like that Hyuntak is frozen. Thoughts of running away long foregone because his mind is empty, his feet are gummed to the ground and Geum Seongje is looking right at him.
Please sound like a weasel.
Please sound like a weasel.
"Nice to meet you Go Hyuntak, I'm Geum Seongje."
Okay, so not like a weasel. In fact, Hyuntak thinks he may have came a little. Seongje's voice is so deep and velvety but also slightly husky like mulled wine over pebble-strewn ground, and now Hyuntak is thinking of that voice whispering filthily in his ears and really, what the hell? Hyuntak has never felt so unhinged like this before, it is suchlike one look at Seongje and suddenly the floodgates opened in his mind and let out a dormant creature that apparently wants to be fucked into next week.
He's so busy having a meltdown in the confines of his head, mouth opening and closing like a dumb fish when he realizes Seongje has his hand stretched out for a handshake. Hyuntak looks down at it. No ring. Oh. Well isn't that fabulous.
Their hands meet in a firm shake, and Hyuntak can only pray that they don't feel clammy and by some marvel Hyuntak remembers how to use his voice. "Nice to meet you too, Mr.Geum." When Seongje's hands leave him, the tips of his fingers brush the palm of Hyuntak's hand and now Hyuntak might actually scream.
"I take it you are the new kid's taekwondo instructor?"
What?
"No, No. I've just finished interviewing for the role."
Seongje clasps his hands behind his back and leans in slightly closer. "Well, my assistant was just telling me of how you are the ideal candidate. You're as good as hired, no?"
I beg your finest pardon?
"Sorry, what?" Hyuntak is sure the past few minutes have fried his brain, he is positive that he's now entered a state of delusion. "Are you saying that I got the job?"
Seongje smiles. "When can you start, Go Hyuntak?"
"I— my knee?" Hyuntak needs to shut up. This is all he's wanted for the past year, and he's just a a hair's breadth away from getting it.
"Is your knee going to get in the way?"
"No!" This is the happiest day of his life. He's so elated he might start floating like a balloon, the jubilation must be so transparent in his face. "It will in no way affect my teaching!". Seongje smiles even wider now, visibly amused at Hyuntak. "Great, I'll have Dongha send you any details you might need. I should get going now, I'll see you soon Go Hyuntak?"
Poor Go Hyuntak is in a daze from how much he likes the sound of his name in Seongje's voice, so all he can conjure up is an ecstatic nod as he watches Seongje leave. His hands are shaking in disbelief as he looks over at Dongha, who to his shock looks just as befuddled as Hyuntak. The assistant quickly regains his composure, "If your schedule permits, please stay back so that we may discuss your pay and other job details. I will make certain that the offer letter and contract are delivered to you by email by the end of the day."
"Of course." Hyuntak has a skip in his step as they walk back to the office, and when he leaves, he only does so after sending a text to the satanic varmint that is his manager.
ogre
2:03 pm
I fucking quit you bald headed bastard !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!