I decided to go with this romanization Min Taeju (민 태주) and Lee Yoochan (이 유찬).

 

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Another day, another board meeting.

 

Since NextIn had gotten big enough to warrant meetings with big names Yoochan’s life had become a lot less exciting and a lot more stressful.

 

The suits alone were annoying as hell. Why did it matter if he was dressed like a penguin - uniform to all the others?

 

But Taeju, patient, warm and always friendly Taeju, had sat Yoochan down again and again to tell him that those penguins would not listen to his ideas if he didn't disguise himself as one. So Yoochan did it. And hated every minute of it.

 

His only pleasure was in riling those old men up by being cleverer than them. Making them dance to his fiddle and make them loath it.

 

He knew he made life harder on them and indirectly on himself but he had never been good at playing nice.

 

He didn't care enough. That's what he told himself. He. Did. Not. Care.

 

Taeju had once told him to his face what he thought about this nonchalance. They had been drinking soju and beer, eating grilled meat outside under a smoking fan.

 

“It's all a facade. A play, Yoochan-a. You tell yourself and the world how you do not feel anything. But in reality it's the opposite.”

 

Yoochan had stared at Taeju, incomprehension in his eyes. He had looked up from his folded arms, lifting his head from the table where it had rested heavily.

 

“What are you talking about, hyung?”

 

“I'm talking about how much you care. You care so much that you have to hide behind a shield. A big shield of your own making. You're keeping everyone out to save yourself heartbreak,” Taeju had spoken fast but his voice rang of earnesty.

 

“I'm- I'm not!” Yoochan had stood up quickly, almost knocking a half filled glass of beer from the table.

“I've got to go.”

 

Taeju had just looked at him, as if assessing his very being.

 

Yoochan had stepped from one foot to the other, uneasy under the scrutiny.

 

Then Taeju had shocked him even further.

 

He'd smiled at Yoochan. And nodded.

 

“That's okay, Yoochan-a. Sleep well.”

Yoochan, sitting at their long table with a water bottle on his hand, was woken from his trip down memory lane. Their main stakeholder demanded him to give a statement on his latest request. His voice was loud and his opinion was trash. Nothing new there.

Yoochan stepped into his office, stretching and groaning at the idiocy of it all. He should be sitting at his computer, developing his ideas. Not babysitting those money bags. He slipped out of his jacket.

 

Taeju was so much better at it than he was. Taeju smiled at the old men with his most handsome smile, squared his broad shoulders and kept them happy with his chaebol attitude.

Yoochan at that. He didn't care for this.

 

His door clanked behind him. Yoochan didn't bother to turn around. He could distinguish people by the way they opened and closed his door (he had learned to get through his daily life this way as faces didn't work for him).

 

Taeju.

 

Angry Taeju. Of course.

 

“Yoochan-a, you really outdid yourself today. We need those investments! You want to develop your MiniFile system, you should be happy that they are interested in financing it!”

 

Taeju always tried to play up the sound and logic parts to get Yoochan’s attention.

 

But Yoochan did. Not. Care.

 

He told Taeju as much and turned away, opening his white, pressed shirt, releasing button after button. He didn't get to the end before he was grabbed by a big hand and forcefully turned around.

 

He was facing a wide chest, moving fast from angry breathing. Yoochan looked up, at the silly glasses Taeju had decided to wear. So that Yoochan would always easily identify him.

 

As if Yoochan needed that help. He seldom lost Taeju, he always knew where he was, gravitated towards him.

 

“What?!” Yoochan asked, his usual arrogant pout in place.

 

Taeju didn't say anything. There were emotions crossing quickly over his face, too fast for Yoochan to analyse.

 

The hand on his shoulder wandered to his neck. Fingertips touching his bare skin above the collar. Another hand grabbed his waist.

 

Yoochan gulped. Confused. He could suddenly feel the body heat radiating off the other man, the long limbs crowding him. He should feel helpless, it should be unpleasant. But it wasn't.

 

“What are-”

 

Warm lips pressed on his. Big hands grabbed him, pulling him close. His neck was strained from the height difference. Yoochan should fight and leave this embrace. But he didn't.

 

He stood still. Eyes wide. Mind racing.

 

Taeju didn't stop. He caressed Yoochan’s lips with his own, letting his tongue flick teasingly over the corner of Yoochan’s mouth. Asking for more.

 

Yoochan was frozen to the spot. As if his brain had short-circuited.

 

The hand on his waist slowly crept down, grabbing a handful of his and pulling him against the other's body.

 

Yoochan groaned involuntarily.

 

His crotch was level with the other's firm thigh, which immediately slipped between his legs to further the enticing pressure.

 

Yoochan didn't wait for his brain to catch up with him anymore. He lifted his feet to his toes and opened his lips, into the kiss when Taeju slipped in without hesitation.

 

Taeju enveloped Yoochan further in his embrace, steadying the smaller man's balance. His hand on Yoochan’s neck slipped up to cup his soft cheek, with his thumb over the smooth skin.

 

Perhaps. Perhaps Yoochan did care after all.