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Anesthetics. Sterile. The strong smell of disinfectant bombarded him. He rubbed his eyes against the bright sunlight that streamed through the long window panes against two-layered curtains. The only sound echoing against the four walls of the private room was the steady beeping of a monitor. Clearing his throat, he got up from the armless sofa and gave his body a satisfying stretch with a stifled yawn.

He stepped away from the sofa and pressed a glass against the purifier and waited for the water to fill up. The man stared at the mist escaping the humidifier beside the bed as he gulped the liquid down in mere seconds. The man on the bed had a serene look across his pallid face.  With a weary sigh, he put the emptied glass away and headed for the bathroom. As he faced the mirror, he felt a single tear roll down when he shut his eyes tight.

*             *             *

A pulsing pain throbbed in his head. It was mild, yet he knew the insistent pain, intruding his head every once in a while. It had become a habit of his, taking it as a common occurrence, ignoring the pain when it came. Minseok lightly brushed it off with the thought that he could settle it with some painkillers. It was always the aspirin or ibuprofen that helped him get through it. Luhan, a colleague-slash-roommate of his, nagged Minseok to visit the clinic or hospital when Minseok complained about the constant pain to his friend. But, Minseok dismissed the advice over and over again. He didn’t see anything wrong with his ‘mild headache’ as he put it.

                “Minseok-ah! Hey, Kim Minseok, are you even listening?” He looked up when he heard his name, and a petite man appeared from nowhere in the kitchenette as he filled his cup with the day’s fifth green tea.

                “Sorry, Luhan, I didn’t notice you come in. What’s up?” Minseok looked up from his freshly brewed tea and smiled sheepishly at his colleague.

                “Boss needs us in five. Emergency meeting and I don’t even know why.” Luhan stood beside him, sneakily dropping a cube of sugar into the mild taste that never excited him.

                “Hey, I saw that!” Minseok dug a spoon into his tea and scooped it out. 

The Chinese male stuck his tongue out and escaped, but not before stealing Minseok’s granola bar. Minseok shook his head at his cheeky little roommate, knowing full well that scolding him was the least useful method. He followed Luhan out of the kitchenette and headed for his office. “Ah, what a waste of tea,” he grumbled.

Leaving the office with a planner and pen in hand, he strode for Luhan’s office and knocked on the door twice before entering. He approached Luhan’s table and looked down on the shiny nameplate with the title ‘Junior Interior Designer’ right below Luhan’s name, a profession quite similar to his. His attention was redirected to the owner of the office when Luhan vocalized his thoughts.

                “Minseok, why? Why a meeting all of a sudden? The boss can be quite a pain in the neck at times,” Luhan complained as they both left the cherry scented office for the meeting room at the other end of the corridor.

                 “It has to be something important, Luhan, or he wouldn’t drag us all out this close to closing hour,” Minseok reasoned.

                “You’re always defending the boss. I think you love him more than me sometimes.” Luhan pouted as Minseok chuckled.

                “He pays us, Lu, and he pays nicely. Why are you even complaining, really?”

                “You’re just saying that to make him look nice. Plus, you, my friend, are a workaholic and do most of the work in the interior design department among all of his employees. Don’t try to defend yourself; we both know how true that is.”

Minseok settled on a slight nod of his head and smiled at how much his friend knew him more than he did.

                “Yes, Luhan, you’re right, it’s true,” he confessed and Luhan gave him one of his victorious smiles, like he just won over a dozen of clients more than Minseok did.

                “I know,” he said as he pushed open the double doors and entered the busy meeting room. Kris was comfortably seated at the very end and center of the long table. When everyone settled onto their seats and Zitao dutifully served everyone a glass of water, Kris finally got up. His employees were still unaware of their boss gazing down on them so he decided to give a slight cough. It did the trick and the noise finally came to a halt, their attention finally on him.

                “Thank you all for coming. This matter that has come to my attention can't be overlooked. Our company’s headquarters in Seoul just called in and, apparently, they’re conducting an inspection under our newly-appointed President’s command,” he said with a stern expression. He scanned across the whole room before continuing. “And they’re sending in the International Sales Director – quite young for such a position – but anyhow, he’ll be coming by next week and I’m expecting everyone’s best behaviour while he’s here.”

Minseok’s focus was solely on Kris while Luhan doodled little characters at the bottom of his roommate’s planner. “Hence,” he paused, “as per tradition, one of you guys would have to guide and be a good host to our guest.” Everyone, but Minseok, gasped. Whispering began and Kris cleared his throat, calming his workers down.

                “, he treats us like kids, asking us to be ‘on our best behaviour’ as if we’re a bunch of five-year-old and suddenly makes us host some young Director. See, Minseok, see?”

                “I heard that, Luhan. Are you going to volunteer then?”

                The Chinese male straightened in his seat before smirking, “Only if you want me to stain the company’s name.”

                “Exactly, great job in admitting your incompetence, Luhan.”

                “Nowhere compared to yours, shifu,” he retorted, sarcastically that it made Minseok cringe over Luhan’s boldness.

                “Anyway,” Kris rolled his eyes, “Zitao has summed up everyone’s progress over the last six months and, Minseok, you will be given the honour of showing our guest around for a few days. I hope that’s fine with you.”

Happy? Excited? Overjoyed? Overwhelmed? Insert any other emotions that you could possibly feel when Minseok found out he was appointed the position as guide. He wanted to leave an impression, he wanted people to remember him, and he feared that people would forget him. Despite the prospect of taking up a post to host one of the headquarters’ Directors, he was fine with it.

                “Okay, Kris, no problem,” he agreed when Luhan poked him on the rib, jolted from his train of thoughts.

                “Good, as I expected from you. Zitao’s ready with all the information you’ll need. Thank you for your patience, everyone, meeting adjourned.”

Minseok simply smiled, saying nothing more as everyone got up to bow at their Director as he left, followed closely by his ever-efficient assistant. The room then emptied shortly after.

*             *             *

                “You’re supposed to arrive around lunch, someone’s going to be there to pick you up and get yourself settled in. Please, Jongdae, I beg you not to ruin this chance the President gave you,” his secretary reminded him as they rode comfortably in the car, headed for the airport. Fiddling with the control buttons of the radio and air conditioner, Jongdae stayed perfectly oblivious to Dongjun’s plea.

                “Are you even listening, Mr. Kim? Seriously, the President could have sent Ms. Song or Henry, but he sent you for the job. If you this up, I swear I’ll spread an anonymous post of your video, pole dancing and lap dancing for a stripper,” the secretary warned. Jongdae gasped, retracting his fingers from the heater button, fingers now focused on the buttons of his suit.

      “, that video! How did you even– ” Jongdae groaned.

      “The perks of being Kim Jongdae’s secretary,” the other man shrugged.

Silence ate the two of them momentarily.

      With a final sigh, the secretary tried again. “Jongdae– ”

                “I get it, okay, I get it. I’m arriving around lunch, someone from Beijing is there to pick me up, and you don’t want me to ruin this awesome chance the President gave me. I don’t think you believe I’m able to pull this off as you mentioned to a few of the Chinese colleagues of mine and you’re not going to post those videos, but I swear to God if you do,” he finally replied, but his attention was not directed to the secretary.

      “Okay, I trust you, you know that. But you just get a little playful for anyone’s liking,” Dongjun said while taking a left turn.

                “Fine, I’ll try to behave, if that makes you happy. Why aren’t you coming with me anyway?”

                “President’s orders, to test your ability to independently handle yourself,” the other shrugged and they both fell into a comfortable silence.

At the airport, Jongdae checked in and took a seat beside Dongjun as they both wait for the gate to open. When it finally did, Jongdae faked tearing up and cleared his non-existent tear when he bid his farewell to his secretary. Passerby eyed the two like they were freaks. Why would two guys part ways with one of them waving his handkerchief like he’s leaving for the national service, in business suits no less?

                “Do you see what I meant by not being able to trust you?” Donjun sighed.

                “I’m just sad, okay? Leave this poor soul alone to his own tears, Dongjun, I don’t need your mollycoddling,” Jongdae sobbed into the sleeve of his suit jacket.

                “Hey, stop that and get your moving,” the secretary muttered as he pushed the Director to join the boarding line. Really, Dongjun considered resigning his post after Jongdae would come back from the trip.

Their friendly banter ended up with Jongdae cracking up and he finally got onto the plane, on an hour-long flight to Beijing, wondering what kind of adventure he would have when he arrived in China.

*             *             *

A/N Hi, yeah, um, nothing fancy. Comments anyone?