Jinyoung wanted to scream. His shoulders were tense, his back was killing him, and his feet ached. And yet he forced himself to work, peering through spreadsheets, sending emails, going to meetings. He was exhausted. Why had life decided that this week of all weeks to give him hell?

“Um... Jinyoung isanim?”

Jinyoung glanced up. There, at the door of his office, was one of the newer employees in his department. He’d been referred here by his secretary and so far he’d been a great employee. “Yes?”

“I have the reports from last month,” he said, holding up a file.

“Oh, of course,” Jinyoung sighed, reaching out to take the file from the younger, opening it and flipping through the pages. “Looks good, thank you.”

Before Hyunjin could leave, his secretary appeared in the doorway. “Jinyoung isanim,” Seungmin greeted politely, “I’m going on my lunch break.” Jinyoung didn’t miss the way he leaned in a little towards Hyunjin, the way their hands seemed to twitch towards each other.

“Go ahead,” he waved dismissively. “I’ll be here.”

The two exchanged a wary look, before nodding resignedly and walking away.

Jinyoung turned back to his work, letting out a weary sigh. At this rate he’d be working through his lunch break.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Jinyoung-ah?” 

He glanced up. Then he blinked. Because there was no way that the person standing in his doorway, holding a plastic bag, was the person he thought it was. No way.

He blinked again, rubbed his eyes. Still there.

Why was Mark here?

“H-hyung?” He called.

Mark grinned, heading inside the large office. “Your office looks nice, Jinyoung,” he commented casually, taking in the modern design.

Jinyoung couldn’t hide a smile. “I’ll be sure to send your compliments to the interior designer,” he teased.

The older rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, go do that. Don’t let your poor fiancé try to give you a compliment.”

Thudthudthudthudthud. Jinyoung only just managed to stop himself from pressing his hand to his chest in an effort to stop his heart from trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Sorry,” he smiled, “I’ll accept the compliment next time.”

Mark huffed playfully. “You don’t know, maybe I won’t visit your office next time. All I get are insults. And to think I wanted to bring you lunch.”

That caught his attention. Jinyoung’s gaze dropped to the plastic bags in Mark’s hands. “You brought me lunch?”

“Yeah, you said you always ordered takeout but you said last night work was killing you, right?” Mark rambled easily, placing the bags on the desk Jinyoung hastily clears, “So I figured you’d probably forget to eat lunch or work through it, so I thought I’d bring you lunch, so you can eat and work.”

Jinyoung’s jaw dropped. “You really didn’t have to,” he murmured, opening the bags to see the takeout containers inside. “This smells delicious.”

“I hope so, one of my employees recommended it to me,” Mark smiled, settling down in the chair in front of Jinyoung. “So, shall we eat?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung’s smile matched the one on his fiancé’s face. This was a nice surprise. It was nice having someone like Mark.

Jinyoung was slaving over the stove when he heard the front door open. 

“Wow, smells good in here,” Mark commented lightly. There was the jingle of keys being tossed on a hook and the rustle of cloth, and then footsteps. “Making dinner for us?”

“Yeah, Yena sent me an easy bibimbap recipe, figured I’d try to make you dinner, since you brought me lunch yesterday,” Jinyoung said, eyes trained on the stovetop as he tossed some vegetables around in a pan. 

“That’s nice of you,” Mark grinned. “You didn’t have to.”

Jinyoung shrugged. “No, but I wanted to. Can’t let you be nice and not get anything in return.” 

Suddenly, he was hyper aware of Mark approaching him. He fought back a flinch when he felt Mark’s arm wrap around his stomach and his head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Jinyoung.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” Jinyoung stammered, cheeks bright red. “Let me cook, though, okay? Or I’ll burn dinner.”

“Okay,” Mark agreed, pulling away. “I’ll set the table.”

Jinyoung could still feel Mark wrapped around him even as he heard Mark move around, setting the table. His heart was still pounding, refusing to calm down even as he finished dinner and set it on the table.

Mark hummed excitedly. “Looks good, Jinyoung. Maybe you’ll be the cook in this relationship after all.”

“Then what are you, huh? What are you bringing to the table?” he challenged.

“My subpar cooking skills, of course,” Mark grinned. “No, I’ll help you wherever I can. I don’t want to accidentally burn the apartment down when you inevitably have work trips.”

Jinyoung laughed. “Good idea,” he said. “I would like to come home to my husband in one piece, thank you very much.”

“As would I,” Mark smiled softly, a fond gleam in his eyes.

Jinyoung’s breath caught. This was what he’d have. This is what his future would look like. At the very least, a comfortable companionship with someone he liked while they worked to revolutionize the exclusive world they’d grown up in. And at the most... he could have a genuine, loving relationship with someone he’d never thought he’d be able to have in his life.

It felt like all of his senses were on high alert and ultra sensitive, focused entirely on Mark. He could have this. He could have a husband, a lover, and not lose his family, his reputation, or his old life. For the first time, he actually took the time to mentally thank his parents for bursting in on him watching gay . If they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have known that he could have all this.

And god did he want all this.

“Jinyoung isanim, are you still working?” Seungmin said, knocking on the door to get his attention.

“Yes, I am,” Jinyoung replied, not bothering to tear his eyes off the screen. “I need to finish this report before I head home.”

“Isn’t the charity ball tomorrow, isanim? You should go home and get some rest,” Seungmin suggested carefully. “I can take care of it.”

“I can’t make you do that,” he refused. “I don’t want you to stay overtime.”

The younger shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. “With all due respect, isanim, I can ha