Chapter Text
Minho feels weight like a boulder settle on his shoulders as he hears the Chief Executive Director of TOPLINE Fashion Magazine explain how he will be handing the position to him. Of course, Minho has been a part of the company for ten years and knows the ins and outs of marketing and management and every detail he could possibly know about the company. But still. The pen feels a little too heavy in his hand as he signs the paperwork that transfers the position to him, and his signature looks a little too sloppy.
He knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime. What other thirty-four year old has the power to direct a company as big as TOPLINE? Somehow, though, he can’t shake the feeling that this moment will mean nothing in the long run.
In his office he files through the endless project proposals he will now have full responsibility of making decisions over. There will be a banquet to formally turn the company over to him in another week, so that responsibility isn’t officially his, though it feels that way. Minho glances up at the singular photo on the wall, the last one he took of his mother; she’s smiling forever in it, but she isn’t here to see this achievement or take part in the benefits it will get him.
All this… Minho thinks, but shakes away the thought.
What he can do now is focus.
He shuffles through a few more papers, then a knock sounds on his office door. “Uh, Minho-nim? Can I come in? I edited one of the presentations you wanted done.”
Minho finds himself smiling. “Ah, yes, come in.”
A young man with thick rimmed glasses and a frame tall enough to make Minho jealous opens the door, holding too many things in his arms to be safe. A laptop is balanced on one arm and a pile of papers on the other. “I also brought some of the notes I worked on while I was going through it. I thought it might be helpful to see my thought process.”
“Oh I definitely want to read more papers,” Minho deadpans, watching with delight as the young man’s face reddens while his eyes scan over Minho’s crowded desk.
“I’m sorry, I can just—”
“I’m kidding,” Minho laughs. “Thank you, Jeongin, I appreciate it. Take a seat and we’ll look it over together, hm?”
Jeongin nods, sitting down in a big armchair Minho has in the corner of his room. It’s only there because Chan insisted he needed something more welcoming. Minho can’t concentrate if he sits in something so comfortable.
“Show me what you’ve edited first, and then I’ll look over the notes.”
Jeongin is one of Minho’s interns, a senior university student who worked his ass off to get a position at Minho’s office. Initially, Minho didn’t even want an intern because he preferred doing the work himself—it made him feel like he earned his right to be there. But Chan knew the kid somehow and insisted he consider. In the end, it worked out. Minho made sure to pay him from the beginning and he earns it well—most of his work is fantastic. His lack of experience in the business world causes him to fumble sometimes, but he takes each failure in stride. Minho honestly appreciates what he does, even if realistically he could manage without the help.
When Jeongin finishes showing him everything and Minho has approved the edits, he goes back to preparing himself for his position transfer. It feels like there will never be enough preparation. He could review and edit every project and business proposal himself and it still wouldn’t be enough.
Deep in the throes of his work, Minho hears his door creak open. The only person he knows that doesn’t knock on his office door is Chan, who stands looking as happy as ever when Minho finally looks up.
“What do you want, hyung?”
“How are you feeling moving up in the world?” he asks, Australian accent distinct in his clear excitement.
Sighing, Minho leans back in his chair. “I feel so moved up. Ecstatic about it, in fact. Don’t I look so ready?”
He spreads his arms wide to gesture at the desk full of papers, half of which have lost their organization.
Chan clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. “I suppose I could’ve seen this coming. You’ll do great though, Minho. I’m sure of it. If there’s anyone capable enough for this position, it’s you.”
Minho pinches the bridge of his nose and nods, trying to find it in himself to agree with what Chan is saying. “I suppose. I’m just not sure I feel ready. Or…” Or competent. He knows he worked hard to get to this point in life. He’d pushed himself every day til nearly breaking for over a decade, so realistically he was perfectly capable and worthy of the position. However, that reality did nothing to dissuade his insecurities.
“Or…?”
“Or if I’m ready to be in charge of your annoying ass,” Minho states, flicking one of the lesser papers in Chan’s direction.
“We are technically in different departments though!”
“Technically, but considering we are both in ‘positions of power’ we are going to have to see a lot of each other during meetings…and as CEO I am your superior.” Minho crosses his arms over his chest, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. He and Chan had been working for TOPLINE together for the last six years and before Minho got to the point he was at, Chan had already stepped up to the position of Chief Financial Officer. Leadership suits him well. Minho always thought that Chan would be offered the position of CEO, and something in his gut tells him he had been. Another thing about Chan is that he is too humble for his own good—he knows he’s a good leader and embraces that quality, but he will never put himself in a position to take that power purposefully.
That is only a theory, but it wouldn’t come as a surprise to Minho if he were second choice. Though, that doesn’t matter much anymore because here he is; the responsibility is his and his alone and he will put his all into it like he does everything else.
“Well then, superior,” Chan begins, a grin in his words that tells Minho he is up to no good. “Will you let me take you out for a celebratory dinner before the banquet? I know it’s only halfway official, but let hyung treat you to something nice. You deserve it.”
“Pft,” Minho scoffed. “That’s not going to happen. You know I don’t like to be treated.”
Chan rolls his eyes. “Thought you’d say that. But I’m afraid you can’t say no.” His expression transforms into a full-face pout. Minho cringes as he juts his bottom lip out further and widens his eyes. It’s something Chan has done for almost as long as he’s known him and it’s never any less painful.
“Alright, please stop.” Minho waves his hand. “I’ll go, I’ll go. But I’m paying for the tip.”
Chan pumps his fist like an overexcited child and Minho resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “We haven’t done anything together recently too, you know? It’d be nice to go and see each other outside of the office setting every once in a while.”
Minho messes with the cuff of his sleeve. “You know how it is. Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. There’s a lot of shit to do.” He glances up, giving Chan an apologetic look. It’s hard for him to get out and do things for fun. There just aren’t enough hours in the day.
“Well, you could use to at least sleep sometimes,” Chan says with a raise of his brows. “I see your light on all the time when it’s way past the end of the day.”
Scoffing, Minho crosses his arms. “Says the insomniac. How many times have I seen you here past hours?”
“Touche. But at least I have fun!”
“I have plenty of fun.”
“Then no complaining when I take you out, yeah?”
A grin spreads across Chan’s face when he knows he’s won. Minho tries hard to frown in response but it comes out half-hearted. Chan’s dimpled smile is incredibly contagious and hard to resist. The list of people who have caved to company deals or even given Chan leeway on things in their field is endless. He doesn’t even know how manipulative he can be with it.
“Speaking of fun, though…” Chan trails off, hands suddenly shifting behind his back.
That tells Minho something is off. “What do you want this time, dear Chan?”
Chan’s eyes brighten. “Your banquet has a plus one option…got anyone you’re thinking of bringing with you?”
The thought itself makes Minho’s stomach nearly lurch. As if he had time for romance. He barely had time for friends, even the few that he kept around. Bringing someone to the banquet was the last thing on his mind, so much so that he hadn’t even noticed the note on the invitations. Chan was probably right, he didn’t have fun enough, but there was always something else coming up that needed to be handled, some other deal another company manager fucked up, or another budget meeting, or another project proposal for the next magazine issue.
And he…he doesn’t want to deal with the added stress of having someone else to worry about and care for.
Minho clears his throat. “No. That’s not gonna happen and you know it.”
“C’mon, not even a friend? No one you wanna share this part of your life with?” Chan leans into Minho’s personal space, resting his palms on the edge of his desk.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Minho asks, raising an eyebrow. “Get out of my office. I’ll bring you if you’re so worried about it.”
“But I’m already—”
Minho manages to find another paper to throw at Chan, but that one looks like it has the outline of an editorial shoot. He’ll get it later. “Go, hyung. I’ve already had enough of your shenanigans for one day. Finish the budget for next month!”
Raising his hands in surrender, Chan backs away from the table. “Alright, alright, mate, I’m going I swear. I’ll see you later for sushi.” As he exits the office, he gives Minho a big, full-hearted wave that only leaves him chuckling behind a facepalm. Chan has always been an interesting friend and coworker to deal with, but at the end of the day, at least Minho knows he cares. When you function in a world based on productivity, every bit of care counts, even if Minho is sometimes all too good at avoiding it.
One thing Minho has come to hate about banquets over the years is how hot they are. Hundreds of bodies mill around a single room, and even with the high ceilings and large windows it's still too warm. The stiff suit he has on does nothing to help either. The material of his dress shirt sticks to his neck even though the material is soft and smooth.
Condensation dripping down his glass of champagne is the only thing keeping him cool. He takes another sip and the alcohol only cools his mouth for a moment before warmth spreads through his abdomen. There were a few fruit refreshments off to the side that also helped and he sticks near them now, mostly people watching as he waits for the main event to begin. He’s made small talk with a few of his coworkers and their spouses, as well as some of the other guests attending from companies they have deals with but he doesn’t want to get too invested in conversation before he has to go up.
Earlier, he’d been stopped by the founder of In Life Fashion, Han Jihoon. The man wasn’t terrible company but he had a way about him that made Minho nervous. Thus, more sweating. He ended the conversation early with the excuse that “things would be starting soon.”
At the same time, Minho is waiting to spot Chan. He knew he would be somewhere, bringing Minho’s intern Jeongin with him. The thought makes Minho giggle to himself as he reaches the bottom of his glass. Jeongin has taken a real liking to Chan even though he doesn’t primarily work under him. Chan is good with people, much better than Minho is, so that is probably one reason why, but he has also caught the younger man eyeing Chan a few times with nothing less than desire in his eyes.
Chan is completely oblivious to his affections. Minho thinks he will watch from the sidelines because even if Jeongin is technically their subordinate, at the moment it’s innocent and entertaining.
Once again, Minho’s eyes scan the crowd. There’s no sign of Chan, but knowing him, it’s possible that he has found his way into another conversation with a stranger as he always does. Minho wouldn’t be surprised.
He downs the last of his champagne and considers going for another glass to use as liquid courage before he has to speak in front of this entire cloud, when he notices a man heading towards him out of the corner of his vision. The second he turns and his eyes lock onto the man, it’s as if the world stops.
The way he walks exudes a kind of confidence Minho has seen in few people and rarely even sees in himself. It’s probably helped by the way his suit hugs every curve of his body to perfection, outlining the taper of his waist and the strong width of his shoulders. The suit itself is black, like most of the suits featured at the banquet, but the button up he wears underneath is a beautiful, silky violet that makes the attire stand out from everyone else’s. Minho’s eyes follow a trail up from the shirt—which has a couple of buttons left undone—to the silver necklace resting on the man’s collarbones. Then up his beautiful neck to his even more stunning face. Soft cheeks meet a sharp jawline and rosebud lips form a smile that’s aimed at him. His brown eyes are round and sparkling, but also sharp. Piercing.
Minho feels his heart race.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is in fact a gay man because it’s just who he is. This is not one of those times.
“Evening,” he greets with a gentle bow, and Minho is immediately floored by his voice as well as his looks. He’d expected something more delicate, not something as rich as the voice that meets his ears. Because now that he’s closer, the man looks young. Younger than Minho, at least.
And Minho has no idea who he is.
“You’re Lee Minho, right?” he asks.
Minho concludes he must be younger because even though he carries himself with confidence and professionalism, he doesn’t exactly talk the same. He tries to shake himself out of whatever spell the first impression has put him under. “Yes, I am. And you are?”
“Han Jisung.” Jisung grins and then swipes a strand of hair that has hints of a previous bleach job out of his face. The gesture tells Minho he’s nervous but Minho still feels he’s the one who should be nervous. “My father sent me over to introduce myself and now I’m glad he did.”
“Your father?” Minho asks, raising an eyebrow. I’m glad he did? What does that mean?
“Uh, Han Jihoon,” Jisung explains. “He’s talked a lot about the business you’re working on together and since I’ll be participating in some of that, we both thought it would be good if I met you.”
Minho’s eyes widen. Han Jihoon, the founder of In Life, a men’s fashion brand that currently had half the men of South Korea in a chokehold and would bring in huge amounts of revenue for TOPLINE once they partnered. And his son is Han Jisung, who Minho was close to getting on his knees for at first sight. His heart beats so fast he can feel it in his throat.
“Oh, of course!” he says, finding his composure. He misses the champagne. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Jisung-ssi. I was talking to your father earlier and he may have mentioned having a son.” Minho holds out his hand for Jisung to shake, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. God, the son of a future business partner. He must be at least in his twenties then.
“It’s good to meet you too, Minho-ssi,” Jisung responds, seeming to throw away his previous nervousness as he takes Minho’s hand. His skin is soft and warm but his hands are much larger than Minho’s. He swallows thickly as Jisung squeezes his hand and lets the touch linger for a bit too long. “Really good to meet you.”
It could just be his imagination, but Minho swears Jisung’s voice drops an octave as he says that. He clears his throat as he takes his hand away, skin tingling where the warmth still lingers.
“Tell me more about yourself, Jisung,” Minho says, attempting to save face. His ears feel hot, so the moment someone passes by with another tray of champagne glasses, he takes on. Jisung takes one as well and Minho tries not to be distracted by the way his soft lips look on the edge of the champagne flute. “Since we’ll be working together of course.”
The corner of Jisung’s mouth twitches up like a smirk and his damn expressive eyebrows raise. “Right, of course. I’m in my final year of university studying business administration at Seoul National University. I’ve been doing a lot of internships with my dad, especially more recently because he plans on handing the company to me. Eventually. Not for a while since I don’t quite have the experience yet but…it’s good to keep it in the family name, I guess?”
Minho almost raises an eyebrow at the last part. He isn’t always the best at reading people but despite his confidence Jisung seems a little unsure of Han Jihoon’s plans.
And shit, he’s still in university? Minho takes a sip of champagne that’s really too big to be called just a sip.
“Is that so?” he manages to respond, voice clipped to keep it from wavering. He wonders now if there really was some substance to what Chan had been saying to him earlier. Work keeps him too busy to have fun, which means it keeps him too busy to get laid, which means he can’t keep his eyes from taking in the beauty of this man that’s definitely much too young for him.
“It is,” Jisung says, now smiling. “But really, I don’t think I’m all that interesting. My background is mostly my father’s. I want to hear more about you, though. To get a grasp of who I’m working with.” Jisung’s eyes glimmer as he speaks and he bites his bottom lip, turning the flesh a warm red.
Inhaling, Minho nods. “More about me?”
The smile on Jisung’s face turns into more of a grin as he releases his bottom lip. “Yeah. You have a pretty voice too, so I’d like to hear more.”
Oh god. Is Minho wrong to assume he’s flirting? No, he can’t be because a statement like that is blatant and obvious. And to have the confidence—or audacity, Minho isn’t sure which—to flirt with your superior who you have only just met? “Jisung-ssi,” he says like it’s a warning, “do you really think that’s appropriate?”
Now Jisung has the nerve to blush, plump cheeks turning red. But instead of backtracking or trying to justify the sudden compliment, he doubles down saying, “Well, I’m just being truthful, Minho-ssi. I expected you to have some strong, commanding voice when I saw you from a distance. You look—well you look sculpted. I wasn’t expecting you to sound so…soft.”
Minho shifts his weight from one foot to the other, tonguing his cheek. How does he respond to that? How does he behave in a civilized manner? And worst of all, how does he shut this down in a respectful way when he knows that anywhere outside of this banquet hall, or if he had any other position or were slightly younger, he would be in bed with a man like Jisung without a second thought?
Maybe he is being dramatic. He tends to do that, even though he’s also good at thinking rationally. Perhaps Jisung is just giving him a well-meaning compliment and he’s taking it wrong because he is the one starting out with perverted thoughts.
“Well, I’m flattered you find it nice,” he finally says.
“It seems like there’s a lot of nice things about you,” Jisung adds. “I’d love to learn more if you’ll tell me.”
Minho has to down the rest of his champagne before he can say anything else because he is going insane. Jisung’s voice takes on that same lower note it did just a few minutes before, the same note that immediately made Minho’s spine tingle. Is he really going to keep going with this? “I didn’t expect you to be like this when you introduced yourself, Jisung-ssi.”
Jisung leans forward while he plays with a silver earring dangling from his earlobe. “Am I surprising to you, then?”
Surprising? Irritating? Alluring? All those words and more seem to fit Jisung so far. “You could say that, I suppose.”
Jisung takes a step closer, getting into Minho’s personal space enough that he can smell his cologne—spicy and warm, like cardamom and amber. The heat of it spreads down Minho’s neck to his chest.
“Do you like surprises, Minho-ssi?”
There is a moment where he’s left standing there as the sounds of milling guests fade out. Jisung’s eyelids flutter, lashes brushing against his cheeks. Minho is drawn to the way his eyebrows quirk, the way his mouth curls as he waits for an answer that for some reason seems to hold more weight than it should. He swallows, the action audible.
“I—”
“Minho-yah!”
Minho’s face heats as he whips to his left to see Chan approaching them with Jeongin at his side. Just in time. Minho had no idea what Jisung was going for when he asked that, but he’d felt like he was about to fall into some trap. “Ah, there you are. Fashionably late as always, I see.” He hoped Chan could see in his eyes how grateful he was.
In the time that it took for Chan and Jeongin to reach them, Jisung had moved out of Minho’s personal space to a respectable distance. Minho found himself inhaling to catch another hint of that spiced scent.
“I got here a bit ago, actually,” Chan said. “I was just having trouble finding you, but Jeongin managed to spot you. And I see you’ve met Jisung now?”
Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You know him?”
“We met,” Jisung said, giving Chan a short bow. “In a meeting with my father. We also have some other friend connections.”
“I see,” Minho says. Now he realizes how much he will be seeing of Jisung. This isn’t just a one off thing. He hopes that his infatuation will wear off as they get to know each other and as they see each other in more professional settings. The banquet is professional, but there is a lighter air around it than there is during a logistical meeting. Jisung will view him in the position of authority he holds because that is the way it’s meant to be (Minho doesn’t like when people see him as a person with power rather than just Minho, but he does what he has to). Then perhaps Minho will also be able to look at him without a jolt of electricity bursting through him.
“I didn’t expect to see you two talking but it makes sense when we’ll be working with Han Jihoon. I’m glad you made your way over here.” Chan smiles, turning his attention to Jisung as he speaks.
“Oh, me too,” Jisung responds, but his eyes don’t leave Minho. “Very glad.”
Minho clears his throat and casts his eyes to the floor. “So am I the only one you haven’t met until now?” he asks. He doesn’t know why he does, but up to this point he had no idea that Jihoon even had a son, much less…much less a very attractive, very forward, apparently gay son.
“Actually, yes. I met Jeongin recently with Chan-hyung.”
Hyung? Minho raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it yet. “Well, you’re doing good work, Jeongin-ah,” he says to take his attention away from Jisung. “Meeting with our future partners is always a good thing.”
Jeongin ducks his head. “Thank you sir.”
“I’ll think we’ll be off now, though,” Chan says. “I have a few more people I want to talk to and you have a speech coming up, don’t you?”
Minho shudders. “That’s right.” He doesn’t mind public speaking, but with the amount of people present it is a little nerve wracking. And he still doesn’t feel settled from whatever kind of flirting Jisung is trying to pull.
“Good luck,” Chan says, clapping him firmly on the shoulder.
“I’m going to need it.”
Chuckling, Chan shakes his head. “Silly. You’ll be fine. You’re the best one for this position, Minho. No one’s got a better clue of what to say and do than you.”
With the way that his heart is racing, Minho could argue differently. But he doesn’t, instead sighing and nodding along to what Chan tells him. If he listens, maybe he will eventually believe it.
Chan leaves with Jeongin, leaving Minho to sip on his champagne with Jisung still there. He hasn’t left yet which means his cologne still lingers in the air. Minho chooses not to look at him. “Won’t your father be looking for you?”
Jisung huffs out a short laugh. “I doubt it. He rarely does. As long as I’m over here networking, I think he’ll be happy.”
“Networking,” Minho repeats wryly. “Is that what this is?”
“What?” Jisung asks. His expression turns coy. “Do you want it to be something else, Minho-ssi?”
Minho’s ears flush again and he clears his throat. “Of course not. I’m only going off observation.” Suddenly his champagne glass is very interesting. He doesn’t even particularly like champagne. There’s a rather dry, soapy taste that always comes with it and aside from that the flavor itself is almost nonexistent. The only reason he’s drinking it now is because it's customary and he needs the liquid courage settling out his nerves now more than anything else.
Another playful grin finds its way to Jisung’s pretty mouth. “What’s your observation, then?”
“That you don’t know what you’re bargaining with and you have too much confidence for someone who hasn’t even finished school yet.”
Jisung has the audacity to look a little embarrassed but he quickly recovers with practiced ease. Minho wonders how many times he’s actually done something like this. If he makes a habit of flirting with his father’s business partners, how much success does he have?
And why in all hell does Minho even want to know?
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? You make it sound like I’m some kid.” Once again, Jisung makes a move to be in Minho’s space so he can lean in. Anything he says at this distance will be heard by just them and no one else. “You’re not that much older than me. What is it…ten, fifteen years?”
“I’m thirty-four and you are still studying,” Minho says. His throat feels caught around the words. The details of Jisung’s face are even more enticing up close, where he can see that his lips are soft but just slightly chapped, like he bites them sometimes. Or the mole on his cheek—a singular imperfection on a gorgeously flawless face.
“I’m twenty-two,” Jisung says. God, younger than Minho thought. “Hm…twelve years. If I get to know you, should I call you hyung…or something else?”
With a sharp inhale, Minho steps back to where he feels like he can breathe again. “This is unprofessional. I—I need to prepare to speak in a minute.”
Jisung pouts—pouts—but nods anyway, seeming to finally relent. “I guess that’s true. It was good to meet you though. And here—” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little card that has only his name and the company Han Jihoon owns, and a phone number on the back. “If you ever want to…talk more.”
Before Minho can respond, Jisung pushes the card into his breast pocket. He gives a quick bow of his head and then turns on his heel, throwing one last heated glance over his shoulder as he walks away. Minho stands there stunned. In his life he’s met a lot of people; through business, through work, through his endless jobs during university before he landed somewhere that provided financial stability. But he’s never met anyone quite like Han Jisung.
Minho takes a deep breath to steady himself, finally able to settle a little now that he’s alone. He sets down his half-empty champagne flute on a table near him and heads toward the front of the banquet hall where the small stage and podium are set up. Sweat collects on his palms. He tries to remind himself of what Chan said. The pressure to do well and take this company where it needs to go weighs down on him from every angle, making his steps feel heavy.
Do you see where I’m at now, eomma?
He takes a seat in the front row amongst a grouping of chairs set up in view of the podium. Chan sits in the row behind him next to Jeongin furiously scribbling something in his notes. Minho takes a glance around the room and his eyes meet soft brown across the aisle. Jisung, still looking at him. Avoiding his fiery gaze, Minho sets his eyes forward.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. I hope you have enjoyed the refreshments and time to socialize,” the previous CEO of TOPLINE says, holding the podium on either side. “Now it is time to get to what you are all truly here for.”
There are a few sounds of agreement, but Minho mostly registers his heavy heartbeat.
“I will be sad to leave this company, but I trust I am leaving it in good hands. Lee Minho has been an incredible man to work with. He is quite talented for someone so young.” A few people laugh but Minho really doesn’t feel young. He knows he is, especially for this position, and that is something he worries about sometimes. But business like this has a way of aging a person, and waiting for his speech to start doesn’t help.
The former CEO claps his hands together and smiles. “You’ve heard enough from me now. With that said, it is my great pleasure to introduce Lee Minho, the new Chief Executive Officer of TOPLINE Fashion Magazine.”
Applause rises from the audience as Minho stands from his chair, taking a folder of his notes with him. He bows deeply to the previous CEO, who Minho always felt was a good man. I hope I’ll live up to your standards, sir, he thinks as they pass each other by. He takes his place at the stadium and sets his things down, looking over the crowd of fellow business men and women, CEOs of other companies, like Han Jihoon of In Life and Jang Honool of Maxident Modeling Agency. Marketing officers, financial officers, interns, spouses of each. Minho smiles as he catches Chan’s eye. Chan sends him a wink.
On the other side, he meets eyes with Jisung again and his exhale comes out stuttered. “Good evening,” he says into the mic, forcing his eyes away. He needs as much focus as he can get. “It’s an honor to be up here.”
And it is, as much as the honor feels laden. He never imagined himself in this position, not from the background he came from. Most of these people are like Jisung; sons and daughters of owners, CEOs, company officials. Sometimes Minho feels out of place among them, even though he has been here so long. But he knows he worked to be here at the end of the day.
As he begins his speech, he imagines he sees his mother’s face in the audience. She would be there, wearing her nicest dress, something Minho would have bought for her. Pearl earrings she got from her grandma in her ears, lines around her eyes and mouth, streaks of white in her hair. The last time Minho saw her, she only had a speckling of white. By now, she would have had a lot more.
It’s her image that guides him through the entirety of the speech, keeping him focused. His voice never shakes and his hands don’t sweat as much as they did before he went up there. In the end, everyone rises as they applaud and Minho smiles, a real grin. Not something fake. He’s pretty sure he hears Chan hoot from his seat, which forces him to hide his laugh as he bows.
When he lifts his head again, there’s Jisung. Minho wonders how he keeps making eye contact with him, but he is determined to prevent it from happening again. There is much more coming at him that he needs to worry about; not some kid too young for him, no matter how charming or pretty he may be. This next step in Minho’s life is huge. He can’t afford distractions. Especially distractions in the form of another CEO’s son.