As Myungsoo drove away from Sungjong, who was still standing on the front porch of his apartment building, slightly dazed, he felt a familiar sensation from eight years ago, a deep welling sensation of hurt, pain, want, and shame.

His head was abuzz - he had no idea how much he had drunk tonight. After he'd left the office, he told his chauffeur to drive straight to a bar he frequented, and leave the car there. At a private booth which he had all to himself, he had gotten steadily drunker, until the sharp pinpricks around his heart had quietened down. He could hold alcohol well and almost never got drunk but today...it was too much to ask of him to not get intoxicated. This was his only relief.

He had no idea what made him go back to the office. Once he was intoxicated, he didn't even remember that Sungjong was supposed to be there, cleaning up the mess he had made earlier. Something had simply led him there - it was almost as if he had been enchanted as he had gotten into his car and driven all the way down to the building.

It's not like I'm making amends for what I've done to Sungjong, is it? He deserved it.

There was so much confusion clouding his mind right now that he couldn't form a single coherent thought. All he could think about, in hazy, misty layers, was about the past. As Sungjong’s figure started to fade on the side mirror, he felt a familiar despair engulf him.

Eight years ago, a 15-year old blindingly beautiful and vain Sungjong broke Myungsoo’s heart.

When Myungsoo was 21, he had had his first love. As strange as that might seem, before that, he had no idea about what love was or how it worked. His friends had grown expert in that area pretty much ever since middle school but he had no notion about love. He was always cautious and all through his school life, he had never dated anyone. He had small crushes now and then but they never amounted to anything more.

Maybe he was just a fool who believed that love was something like a miracle, so great and powerful that it would whoosh down upon him and sweep him off his feet.

That was exactly how it had played out for him.

Nine years ago, he fell in love with a 14-year old Sungjong. It was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly, but surely, he was in love. First loves are apparently magical - when Myungsoo had first met Sungjong, the world stopped for a moment, and so had his heart. Something clanked into place and he could see the stars align in front of his eyes.

It had happened when he had least expected it. He had come home from a quiet afternoon in the manga section of the library only to find what looked, at first glance, like an angel lying on the sofa in his living room.

Sungjong was decked in a sweatshirt and shorts, his unusually long legs spanning the length of the sofa and more. His eyes were glued to the screen of the flat screen TV in their living room, the lights from screen dancing on his irises and giving them different hues.

It was serendipity – the sunlight streaming in through the window falling like gold flakes on Sungjong’s face; his eyes half-lidded as he stared at the TV screen through his eyelashes – he was the one. There was something so unearthly about the whole picture that Myungsoo believed he was dreaming. Maybe he had fallen asleep on his way home and was now sleepwalking and dreaming at the same time.

“Hyung, this is my new friend Sungjong.”

Myungsoo’s brother’s voice woke him up from the reverie. Sungjong jumped up and bowed slightly, smiling at him. Myungsoo hadn’t noticed Munsoo sitting on the other couch beside Sungjong.

“Oh I…hi,” Myungsoo didn’t know what to say. He excused himself from the room, only to return a few minutes later under the pretense of looking for his book.

Ever since that day, he saw a lot of Sungjong. Munsoo and he had become really close friends, for which Myungsoo was infinitely grateful, and often they hung out at their place. Myungsoo would at first sneak into their conversations and games and after a time, it was natural for him to hang out with his brother and his friend despite the .

It continued for a year, when Myungsoo fell more and more in love with Sungjong as he got to know him. He could be a bit difficult sometimes and he wasn’t the most understanding and considerate teenager alive. He was a bit of an idiot, just like Munsoo or any other adolescent boy. But Myungsoo couldn’t see any fault in him, no reason to stop loving him.

That was until he finally decided to confess to Sungjong and got his heart broken in the worst possible way.

It was the darkest memory of his life, for which he had a special deep fissure in the corner of his mind so that it would never get in his way.

When Myungsoo was 22, he had his first heartbreak.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t experienced love or heartbreak before or because he had loved Sungjong too deeply, but it had crushed him. The younger wasn’t even sorry and Myungsoo had wished the earth would consume his body so that he wouldn’t feel the pain so badly.

On purpose, he picked a University far away from Seoul and moved out from the house. He couldn’t bear to be in the same house where he had first fallen in love, especially because the episode between them did nothing to change the friendship between the two friends and Sungjong was still a regular visitor. Myungsoo couldn’t tolerate seeing the younger’s face. Luckily, he didn’t have to because after 3 years, Munsoo decided to go to college abroad and that put a stop to Sungjong’s visits. Thus, Myungsoo returned to Seoul, to his home.

In the nine years that had passed since, a lot of things had changed for Myungsoo.

He had devoted every bit of himself to his studies, and later his job. He started out as a photographer at a fashion magazine company, using all his pent up anger, frustration and pain to drive his work. He painstakingly climbed up the ladder of success even though he wasn’t that ambitious to begin with. Now he was the chief editor of Seoul’s most popular fashion magazine, the Star.

The 1000 employees of the company were all willing to do whatever Myungsoo told them to; their main job was to please him. And to do that, they had to be at the top of their game. Myungsoo was notorious for being hard to please. No slackers were tolerated and only one standard was accepted – perfection.

He didn’t like to admit it, but to him, Sungjong was still the epitome of perfection. So whenever he was looking at new designs, he was looking for the perfect piece that made him feel the way Sungjong used to make him feel. Even though he tried not to think about the younger, he was constantly searching for the design that could capture Sungjong’s feels. So in that way, Sungjong was really not too far away from his mind, despite the hatred he felt for him. But he liked to think it was all for work. Using Sungjong as the standard had helped him to reach where he was, so the young boy's memory was just a tool for him to get what he wanted - success, money, fame.

That's all there is to my life. Sungjong has no other meaning in my life.

When he reached his penthouse, he went straight to his bedroom, where he curled up in his bed, fully clothed. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way – a mixture of guilt, regret, and anger. Sungjong had made a grave mistake; the logical decision was to fire him, or punish him, like he had done. But he felt that he had gone a bit overboard with the hateful things he had said to him. He, of all people, should know how hurtful words could be. In fact, he had been a direct victim to the power of words.

There was no doubt that Sungjong was hurt, but Myungsoo didn’t understand why he was feeling so guilty for hurting the younger. Hadn’t he done just the same to him all those years ago? He hadn’t cared about it, his conscience was clean.

So why was it that he was suffering?

Is this how it’s supposed to be, am I the only one who’s meant to suffer, regardless of whether I’m in the right or wrong?

He knew that he could have the company of many people if he wanted to, right at this moment, but he chose to be alone. It was a choice, not a sad fate. Because he had realized, alone was the way he was meant to be. It was the safest choice; in this way, he would never get hurt again.

---

The next few days at work weren’t any better for Sungjong. Woohyun still gave him the accusing glare as if he was personally responsible for a terrible loss in the PA’s life. Taemin and even Sungyeol, would come over at Woohyun’s desk and they would loudly talk about how Sungjong had ruined everyone’s life at the office. You'd think their life's only aim was attending Paris Fashion Week. on a second thought, Sungjong realised that it probably was.

The trio made him so nervous that he walked with his eyes glued to the floor, because he didn’t want to look into anyone’s eyes. Even though he knew it was impossible, he felt that the employees on the other floors and even the people on the streets knew what he had done and they were all criticizing him for it. It was a horrible feeling, a constant weight on his shoulders that he didn’t seem to be able to shake off.

How long am I supposed to live with this?

At least he didn’t have to meet Myungsoo. He would just bow very low in the morning and evening, when Myungsoo came to the office and left, so that he wouldn’t have to see his face.

That however was the source of another problem. Zero interaction with Myungsoo meant Sungjong didn’t have another chance to apologise to the man. He had been drunk when he had said sorry, he wasn't even sure he remembered the night. No matter how he thought about it, there was no doubt that the boss deserved an apology. Sungjong had actually written a script and practiced what to say to him, but he never got a chance to do that. He had tried apologizing to Woohyun, but the PA had only gotten angrier and called him a ‘cheap actor’.

The only person on the entire floor who seemed to treat Sungjong as a person was Minho. He would always reserve a smile for him when they met. Sometimes he would run into the executive editor at the break room and he never failed to greet him, ask him about his work, and reiterate the invitation to go to his room where they could have a heart-to-heart chat. Sungjong used the excuse that he was too busy to decline the invitations because honestly, he didn't want to overstep his position with the only man who was nice to him.

One day however, Minho cornered him and almost dragged him to his room when Sungjong was on a break. It was a smaller office than Myungsoo’s, but still quite big. Minho forced Sungjong onto one of the couches at one side of the room and sat down next to him, lifting one of his legs to sit more comfortably. He urged the younger to do the same, but he declined politely.

“Do you want a drink?”

When Sungjong said no, he poured himself one and said, “Now tell me Sungjong, what brings you here, in the fashion world?”

Sungjong was unsure about how to answer that question. Minho had asked it very casually, but he didn’t want to reply thoughtlessly and deemed as an idiot by the last man who still talked to him normally. Honestly, he hadn’t really thought about it. He was out of University, looking for a job. He had minored in fashion, so he had decided to try out a fashion magazine. Luckily, he had gotten the job and he had taken it on, knowing how difficult the job market was. It wasn’t that he was particularly interested in fashion, but he had always been complimented on his sense of dressing up.

“You don’t belong on a desk, Sungjong, you belong in front of a camera. You’re absolutely gorgeous, more than most of the models I see every day.”

Minho didn’t look like he was joking. The usual playful glint was gone from his eyes, replaced by a calm solemnity. He was looking straight at Sungjong, who suddenly started to feel uncomfortable and looked down at his knees.

“I really am not cut out-”

Minho’s long index finger reached out to lodge beneath his chin, raising his face, but he was too embarrassed to look up.

“Look at me, go on,” Minho said in a soft voice.

It felt good to have someone speak to him so nicely; it made for a nice change. Sungjong felt his heart picking up speed and a tint of heat spreading across his face.  He hadn’t expected to react so blatantly to a simple compliment. It wasn’t just what Minho said though, it was also how he said it, like he meant it; the closeness to the handsome man and the touch were helping as well.

Biting his lips nervously, he looked up, meeting Minho’s eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho whispered, sighing slightly.

Sungjong’s face threatened to burst from the heat. He had been called hot and y so many times; he had been catcalled and whistled at on the streets. He never had any trouble going around. But the last time someone had complimented him so sincerely was eight years ago. Back then, he didn’t understand the meaning of these words; he had taken them for granted. He was too young to realize that he was attractive to many, but only one person cared to call him beautiful. He had laughed at Myungsoo, thinking that he was a desperate and old-fashioned fool. Right now, he would give anything to have that moment back between them.

Wait, what? No, why am I thinking that?

“You’re perfect Sungjong and you belong on a magazine cover.”

For a moment, Sungjong wondered if this was a big joke. Maybe Minho was just pulling his leg? But there was sincerity in the way he spoke and stared at him so intensely. Minho's gaze was so piercing that he had to look away to catch his breath. Myungsoo's gaze was penetrating as well, but the feeling was completely different from the look Minho gave him. Myungsoo harbored hatred for him, just pure, raw hatred, and he deserved it. He couldn't ask for anything, not with the past they shared. Just thinking about when he was a teenager gave him a headache. He had probably been the most stuck-up, annoying, idiotic creature in his entire school. Involintarily, he cringed.

The executive editor, however, thought that he had cringed because of something he had said.

"I'm not lying," he said earnestly, reaching out and taking Sungjong's hand in his. The younger gulped, going cold all of a sudden. Was this even allowed - holding hands with your superior. "You are-"

Minho’s phone suddenly started ringing. Cursing under his breath, he checked the caller ID, still not letting go of Sungjong's hand even though he was squirming uncomfortably. Rolling his eyes at Sungjong in an exasperated way, he picked it up, motioning him to wait for a moment.

“Hello hyung, yeah. Hmm…I do have that. Okay, yeah. I have Sungjong in my room, should I just send it with him? Nothing, just talking, he’s on his break now. Yeah, ok.”

Sungjong looked at him fearfully at the mention of his name. Minho explained that it was Myungsoo and he had wanted a file from him.

“I should go now,” Sungjong said, standing up.

“Can’t you stay a bit longer?” Minho whined, looking regretful.

“Sorry, I have to go.”

Sighing, Minho went to his desk and brought out a file from one of the drawers.

“You’re like Cinderella - catch him before 12. But I’ll get you.” He handed him the file, smiling at him, which he returned gratefully.

“Thank you,” he said, before leaving the office, the file clutched in his hands.

He felt strangely lighter than he had in a long time. It was probably because of the way Minho had spoken to him, without any insults or accusations. He could see that Minho was a charming man, a sweet person who knew how to make people feel better. He was very different from Myungsoo, both the present and past versions. Sighing lightly, he wondered if he had fallen for Minho already. That wouldn’t be good at all, especially not in the situation he was in.

Argh, am I that easy? He knocked his temple, trying to get all thoughts not related to work out of there.

Fortunately, that wouldn’t be a problem anymore since he saw Woohyun, standing in front of his desk with his hands on his hips, a deadly look in his eyes.

With a quick prayer, Sungjong marched up to him, bracing himself for what was to come.