Chapter Text
GREAT
“Get in here, you have ten seconds.”
The cold voice carries an unmistakable undertone of warning, noticeable even through the barrier of the intercom system. A guy (probably from HR; Great can’t quite remember) passes by as the speakers relay the message and gives him the universal “you-will-be-missed” nod of pity, puppy eyes and everything.
Not in a “you’re getting fired” kind of way, but more in a “your free trial of life has come to an end” kind of way. Great merely spares him a half-assed half-nod (more of a minutely prolonged glance, really) in acknowledgement before getting up, leisurely making his way to his boss’ office.
He knocks once and waits impatiently for the reply, which comes after almost a complete minute of silence:
“Enter.”
Great rolls his eyes. Asshole.
He takes a deep breath and plasters on a passably pleasant expression before entering the office, deliberately closing the door behind him with a little more force than strictly necessary.
Custom service smile firmly in place, he approaches the man behind the desk, eyes lingering momentarily on the movement of the veins peeking out of said man’s unbuttoned collar as he looks up at him.
“You called, sir?” Great says, voice sickly sweet.
The way Tyme’s jaw ticks as he clenches it in response is tantalizing. Great wants to lick it, feel the movement beneath his tongue…
“Take a look at this,” Tyme orders, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward Great. It’s the agenda for the upcoming promotional event for their soon-to-be-released product line, set to take place at a venue at a famous hotel in central Bangkok. Great knows this, because he’s the one who made it.
The tone in and of itself makes Great want to defy it – he may or may not have an authority issue, sue him – but, with great effort, manages to suppress the urge to reply in what would have no doubt been a… somewhat unprofessional manner (read: he does not, in fact, tell his boss and current employer that he can take the paper and shove it up his a–).
Instead, he leans over, bangs escaping their confines behind his ears and spilling forward, curtaining his face and partially obstructing his view. This, of course, matters little when he already knows exactly what to look for.
“What’s wrong, sir?” he asks, feigning innocence.
“You tell me,” Tyme says coolly, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest.
The phrase reminds Great of his father, which is never a good thing, but the manner in which it was said and the person from whom it was delivered – newsflash, his boss is hot as fuck, again: sue him – sends a spike of arousal coursing through him.
As previously mentioned, Great already knows what the issue is; a minor spelling mistake that’s easily ignored and in no way detrimental to the agenda as a whole – a spelling mistake that would neither affect nor annoy anyone but the perfectionist CEO. Whether that knowledge stems from the fact that he’s the one who made it deliberately to piss Tyme off or not is neither here nor there.
Instead of pointing it out immediately, though, he purposely takes an obnoxiously long time to “look over” the document, faux confusion lining his features.
After going over the same section three times in a row, he chances a glance up and is met with an unimpressed stare.
Pity. Great’s itching to see that cold, composed façade crumble and give way to something more… raw. Where this not-so-sudden urge came from is anyone’s guess, Great sure as hell doesn’t know.
Not knowing its origin, however, has not stopped him from pushing Tyme’s limits (never quite crossing the line for probable cause for firing, of course) practically since the moment he landed the position as his personal assistant last year.
“Oh!” Great exclaims, ducking his head in a half-hearted imitation of embarrassment, “it seems I may have made a mistake… I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll fix it immediately!”
The quality – or, rather, lack thereof – of his acting shows in the gradual raise of Tyme’s left eyebrow, which, had it been another person, Great might’ve interpreted as dark amusement.
“See that you do.” Great is about to turn around and leave – he’s literally mid-turn – when Tyme adds: “You’re dismissed.”
You know that feeling when you’re about to do something voluntarily and someone – usually a parent – tells you to do that very thing and suddenly you no longer want to do it? Yeah…
Ignoring the wave of pure, childish frustration that washes over him, he turns back to give Tyme a short, formal nod of acknowledgement, smile strained. The barely-there smirk and satisfied glint in Tyme’s eyes as they meet his tells him all he needs to know. Bastard.
After leaving the office, he walks straight past his desk, stopping only long enough to dump the now half-crumpled document on his desk, before making his way toward the elevators.
“Hey, where are you going?”
He pauses at the question, finding himself face-to-face with Nan, the company’s accounting manager. Among his so-called “colleagues”, he would probably consider her as his closest acquaintance. Which, granted, doesn’t say a whole lot, but she’s one of the few people whose name he’s deigned to memorize.
He glances briefly in the direction from which he just came from and in which she’s currently heading, raising his eyebrow in mild interest. He’s been wondering for a while now if there might be something more going on between Tyme and Nan. He knows they’re more than just boss and employee, but he hasn’t been able to put his finger on the exact nature of their relationship as of yet.
“Just going for a smoke,” he replies, turning back to face her. As if to mirror his, her eyebrow raises at his answer.
“Lunch break’s not for another hour and a half,” she comments, tilting her head in inquiry, “did something happen?”
One of the (many) company rules is “no smoking outside of official break time”. Partly because it decreases work efficiency, but mainly because the CEO happens to be extremely anti-smoking to the point of finding the mere smell of cigarettes bothersome.
The only time Great can get away with sneaking a smoke when he’s technically not supposed to is after “losing” a non-argument with Tyme, like today. (Un)luckily for him, as his personal assistant, that happens on a daily basis, oftentimes more than once. It’s not much of a consolation prize, but he’ll take it.
Great knows it, Tyme (the smug bastard) knows it, and Nan’s apparently picked up on it, too. Heck, with the way the gossip mill keeps speculating and spreading rumors about the relationship between Tyme and Great, for some godforsaken reason, the whole damn company might know at this point, who knows.
“Nothing out of the usual,” Great sighs, sweeping his hand through his hair. “See you.”
With that, he takes his leave. Not exactly the smoothest conversation ender, but Nan is one of those rare people who doesn’t seem to mind his unpredictable personality, so he knows she won’t take it to heart.
He does make sure to leave the building premises before lighting his cigarette, even he isn’t stupid enough to push his luck by smoking right in front of the entrance. He doesn’t think Tyme would fire him on the spot for doing so alone, but it wouldn’t surprise him if his boss used it as an excuse to fire him for all the other not strictly forbidden but still mildly out of pocket shit he’s pulled before.
While smoking, he looks up at the huge fascia sign at the top of the building, unable to hold back a scoff. It just says “THAMIN” in big bold letters. How creative. Not self-centered whatsoever.
He’s self-aware enough to realize that his disdain at least partially stems from his own complicated family situation and, by extension, the company – SRIWAT CARGO. Well, a very specific part of it, but still.
Regardless, naming a company after yourself… what an unimaginative ego booster.
Having finished his cigarette, he goes to make his way back, only to stop cold at the sight that greets him: a dog.
Not only a dog, but a big one. Great never bothered to learn about different breeds and stuff, simply classifying them all as terrifying and leaving it at that, but even he can tell this one’s on the larger side of normal.
He vaguely registers the fact that the owner is speaking to someone by the entrance, unlikely to move anytime soon. He still has to get in somehow, though.
He takes a shaky step closer, and the beast-like thing immediately turns its head in his direction, making an aborted motion to stand up, easily thwarted by a quick command from its owner. Still, it’s more than enough to send Great spiraling into a full-blown panic attack.
In a haze, he stumbles around the corner of the building, semi-hidden behind a large plant, too far gone to be relieved by the lack of people.
Back pressed against the side of the building, he sinks to the ground, legs no longer able to support him and desperately seeking more surface area to ground him. He’s breathing heavier and faster than usual, but it feels like he’s suffocating.
Phantom pain shoots up the side of his right thigh, and he desperately tries to grab it in an attempt to soothe it. His hands, however, have no grip strength so his arms fall uselessly to the ground beside him, leaving him half-slumped over.
He wants to curl up and hug himself, make himself as small as possible, but his limbs won’t cooperate.
The world is spinning now, and the phantom pain in his leg has grown numb. Everything, in fact, has become numb. His vision, too, is all but gone.
He has no idea how much time passes, but every second feels like a losing battle trying to keep himself from floating away completely.
“–eat? Great? Fuc–“
The words are muffled, as if spoken under water, and he can’t make out much of what’s being said.
Suddenly, though, there’s pressure. He can’t tell his limbs apart from one another anymore or pinpoint its origin, but it feels omnidirectional. It grounds him.
Darkness creeps in around the edges of his vision and, unable to resist it, he lets unconsciousness claim him.
The first thing he sees after opening his eyes is Nan. She’s perched on the edge of whatever surface he’s lying on.
“Nan?” Great asks, disoriented.
Memories of the incident resurface, disjointed but enough piece together what happened. So, Nan was the one who found him like that, a whole damn mess. He groans in mortification, sitting up on what he now realizes is the (thankfully empty) break room couch.
“Great? How are you feeling?” Nan asks, brows furrowed in concern.
“Good,” he replies, going for nonchalant and only falling slightly short, “sorry you had to see that. Thanks for helping me.”
Nan’s lips purse momentarily before opening again, no doubt about to refute his apology, so Great ploughs on.
“Before you say anything, as much as I appreciate your help, I kind of really just want to forget about this whole thing. You should do the same.” When it looks like she might still try to say something, he firmly tacks on: “That wasn’t a request.”
Reluctantly, Nan nods. She doesn’t look happy about it, though.
Great doesn’t need anyone’s help. He’s not that weak. Growing up, he had panic attacks all the time, and he always recovered on his own, bouncing back to his normal self within a couple of hours. Had she not found him, he would’ve been fine on his own, give or take an hour or two. An hour or two…
“Shit! What time is it?” Great curses, to which Nan shows him her phone screen. 12:25 PM… “Damn, I have to get back! I’m so dead!”
Again, it looks like Nan wants to say something, so Great rushes out of the break room before she gets the opportunity to do so.
On the way up, he curses the dog, himself, and the elevator for going so fucking slowly.
When the doors slide open, he finds himself almost chest-to-chest with none other than Tyme himself.
“Sir! Uh…” he stammers, uncharacteristically at a lack for words, “I’m so sorry for being late, I was… um…”
Leaving his desk unattended for almost two whole hours without notice… He’d rather get fired than admit to what actually happened (it’s not like he needs the money), but even having accepted that as a possibility, his heart still won’t stop racing.
Despite originally applying for this job with ulterior motives, he’s grown proud of his accomplishments and takes pride in his work. Yes, he’s playful and likes to tease and see how far he can toe the line, but ultimately, this was his first, real opportunity to live removed from his family. To create an identity of his own.
He’s been pushing limits since day one, but this is the first time he’s actually committed a punishable offense, fully in the wrong. And, unable to resort to his normal self-defense of either humor or sarcasm, he feels wrong footed.
Tyme gives him a slow once-over, likely judging him for his less-than-collected appearance, hands resting on the small of his back, out of sight – composed as ever. He’s changed out of the suit he wore this morning, now dressed in the slightly more formal one prepared for his meeting later this afternoon. Embarrassed and self-conscious, Great discreetly tries to brush away some of the dirt still present on his shirt.
“Don’t let it happen again. It’s lunch break, be back at your desk in 45,” he says shortly, apparently done scrutinizing him. With that, he turns on his heel, heading back in the direction of his office, where he usually opts to have his lunch alone.
Stunned, Great doesn’t get the opportunity to respond or even step out of the elevator before the doors are closing on him again. Not knowing what else to do, he simply presses the button to the cafeteria floor.
TYME
Tyme watches Great’s retreating back, satisfied with the outcome of today’s little act of defiance.
Make no mistake, he’s well aware of the other’s unsubtle attempts at pushing his buttons, and under other circumstances, such behavior would earn him… well, let’s just say it wouldn’t end at a verbal altercation.
Sometimes, he wonders if Great’s aware of how transparent he is. From glances to tonal inflection… Tyme can read him like a book.
He can tell Great’s attracted to him physically.
Which… he knows he’s a conventionally attractive guy. Still, the way Great’s eyes stray sometimes, seemingly almost involuntarily, to trace one feature or another of his face or body, eyes practically hungry… Forget about a penny, Tyme would pay a fortune for his thoughts.
Tyme is very much attracted to Great, as well. Physically yes, of course. But beyond that, too.
Still, he’s Great’s boss, and that alone puts them at a huge power imbalance. Regardless of whether or not Great happens to be the son and partial heir of one of the most influential families in Thailand; at work, he’s just Tyme’s personal assistant.
Thus, Tyme will never make the first move.
If nothing ever happens between them, he’s completely fine with that.
(That’s a lie, he’s not. But if he has to take that particular secret to the grave, he’s okay with that. It’s his own burden to bear, and Great should never be saddled with the weight of it.)
Now, if Great were to make the first move… well, he considers himself a strong man, but he supposes everyone has their weaknesses.
There’s a knock on the door, snapping him out of his musings.
“Come in,” he calls, recognizing the outline of the person through the opaque glass of his office door.
“I’ve got the risk assessment you asked for yesterday,” Nan announces, handing him a thin folder.
“Thank you,” Tyme replies, accepting it and placing it on his desk.
Nan lingers.
(And in three, two, one–)
“I ran into Great on my way here,” she begins conversationally, giving him a look.
“I’m sure you did,” he agrees easily, leaning back and crossing his arms.
(It’s a habit of his. He wonders if Great’s noticed. He probably has. He’s a lot smarter than the act he likes to put on.)
“He said he was on his way out to smoke,” she adds meaningfully.
Tyme can’t help but frown slightly. The smell of cigarettes always reminded him of…
(No.)
“To answer your non-question, no, I did not scold him unfairly, nor did I treat him harshly. Nothing out of the norm happened. Just the usual banter,” he tells her pointedly.
He never told her about it, but she was smart enough to figure it out on her own. She understands why he won’t do anything about it, but she still likes to tease him about it.
“If you say so,” she chuckles, raising her hands in mock defeat and making to take her leave.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she suddenly exclaims, clapping her hands together and making a complete 180-degree turn, “Kay wanted me to let you know there’s someone standing by the entrance with their pet – not a support animal, mind you. He said it was just a dog, but what with the whole “no animals on the premises” rule, he wasn’t sure if he should ask them to leave or not. He said he wasn’t sure if it referred to wild animals or… Tyme?”
He's already out of his chair and halfway across the room, phone in hand. Rushing toward the elevators, Nan hot on his heels, he dials the reception desk.
“Sir?”
Kay, thankfully, picks up almost immediately.
“Is the dog still there?” he asks, getting straight to the point.
“Yes sir, it’s right outside,” Kay replies, “I wasn’t sure if–”
“I’m going to need you to ask the owner to leave the premises with it immediately. If possible, escort them in the direction of the bowling arena.”
(Away from Great’s smoking spot…)
“Yes, sir,” Kay replies seriously, no doubt sensing the urgency in his voice.
With that, Tyme hangs up. What follows is, quite possibly, the slowest, most excruciating elevator ride of his entire lifetime. The moment the doors start sliding open, he’s literally squeezing his way out sideways, Nan exclaiming in surprise as he takes off, leaving her behind.
The heads of employees and visitors alike turn as he sprints his way through the atrium, but he pays them no mind, barreling on.
Upon reaching the entrance, he’s relieved to find the dog gone. It’s short-lived, however, as he notices the same applies to a certain personal assistant, usual smoking spot conspicuously empty.
“Maybe you missed him… he probably went back inside…” he mutters, fooling nobody – including himself.
At a loss for what else to do, he decides to take a lap around the building, “just to be safe”.
He barely makes it around the corner before the noises reach him. Quick, shallow intakes of breath, interspersed with quiet but distressed whimpers.
“Great?” he calls, taking the last few steps at record speed, “Great? Fuck!”
The moment he catches sight of him, a small piece of him shatters from within.
Great’s slumped sideways against the wall, closer to lying down than sitting up, though clearly not by choice. The position looks uncomfortable and vulnerable, and the way he stares blankly into the distance, eyes glazed over, makes him look completely disconnected from his body.
Without hesitation, Tyme all but throws himself to the ground, barely noticing the sting as his palms and knees scrape against the unforgiving concrete. Crawling the remaining distance, he gathers the younger man up in his arms, parts relieved and parts dismayed by the way his body automatically takes him through the familiar motions.
Great trembles violently in his arms and Tyme can feel his heartbeat, quick and light as a hummingbird’s, against his fingertips.
He deliberately slows and deepens his own breathing, gently counting and timing his inhales and exhales, coaxing Great to follow suit. Tyme’s fairly certain Great’s not picking up on his words – at least not consciously – but eventually his breathing evens out, gradually matching the pace of the chest rising and falling against his back.
That’s how a frazzled, out-of-breath Nan finds them, curled up together on the ground, Great asleep in Tyme’s arms.
Tyme carries Great inside through the backdoor, Nan making sure no one sees them as they make their way to the staff room. Since it’s not lunch break yet, the room is, thankfully, empty.
He gently lowers Great onto the couch, selfishly unable to resist the urge to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face before straightening.
“Stay with him, will you?” he requests, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the sleeping man.
“You won’t stay?” she asks, frowning.
“No. My presence would only make him uncomfortable,” he shakes his head.
“If you say so…” Nan sounds dubious, but she doesn’t protest as he takes his leave.
He heads back to his office, receiving quite a few double and triple takes for his dirty, ruined suit and uncharacteristically unkempt appearance.
He tends to his scrapes and bruises, re-styling his hair and changing out of his suit.
When he’s done, he glances at the clock: 12:25 PM. It’s been over one and a half hour, and Great’s still not back. What if something’s wrong? Well, besides the obvious, that is.
Before he can talk himself out of it, he quickly makes his way back to the elevators, intent on doing a quick welfare check. He’s wholly unprepared for the doors to slide open to reveal the subject of his concern, barely having enough presence of mind to quickly hide his hands behind his back to conceal the scrapes and bruises.
To his credit, Great seems equally surprised, stuttering out an apology.
Practically on autopilot, Tyme gives him a slow once over, relaxing minutely at the lack of visible injuries. Great also seems to have calmed down significantly from earlier, distress at Tyme’s unexpected presence notwithstanding.
Still not fully recovered from the suddenness of the interaction himself, Tyme somehow manages to string together some kind of coherent statement before, like a complete idiot, turning around and heading back in the same direction he just came from.
(Smooth. Real smooth.)