“I have to say, Lee Hongki. I'm surprised to see your face again, after all these years. The last time we met, you and your thug buddy were being carried off by security.”

Hongki leant back in his seat and resisted the urge to sigh. Across from him in this spacious office sat the company's head honcho, Mr. CEO himself. His desk was large, fancy, definitely of someone with money. Hongki couldn't remember if that was same desk he had jumped over in a fit of rage all those years ago.

How old was he then? Fifteen?

It was so long ago, back when his dreams had seemed so simple.

“I have to say,” Hongki nearly mimicked, but managed to censor himself a little. “I'm surprised you remember me.”

“How could I forget that face?” The CEO replied, linking his fingers together and resting them under his chin. “You've still got that same look in your eyes. That fire, that spirit. Tell me, do you still have that temper too?”

“I guess that depends on how angry you make me.”

“You're still the same, aren't you?” He chuckled, before a sigh escaped his lips. “Ah, I will never forget that day. These two little juvenile delinquents walk in and audition together, but when we told one yes and the other to go home, you blew a gasket.”

“We were a package deal. You can't take one without the other.”

The CEO gestured toward him, a pointed look on his face. “And yet, here you are. Tell me, where is that buddy of yours now? Surely with a friendship so strong you won't trade out your buddy for a record deal, you must still be very good friends.”

“That's not really an option anymore,” Hongki said with all the nonchalance he could muster, though the words tugged painfully at his heart. It seemed like another life, the fifteen year old him who wanted, more than anything, a chance to sing on a real stage.

“Really? What a shame,” The CEO murmured. “A friendship like that, it warmed my heart. I am curious about something though. What if it was you we told to go home, and not your little thug buddy? Would he have done the same for you? Would he have given up an opportunity like this for the sake of friendship?”

Hongki held his gaze. “Without a doubt.”

“Hm, I wonder about that,” he hummed, before he smiled a little. “The offer still stands, you know. To sign you into the company as an artist.”

“Mr. CEO, I'm not here as a potential celebrity. I was referred here by one of your managers. As a stylist. With all due respect, I don't see how taking a trip down memory lane is relevant to this interview.”

“Yes, yes. My apologies. I'm prying too much. Let's get down to business, shall we?”

><><><><

Fish and Cake.

That's what the letters against the outside of the building stood for.

At first, Hongki thought they were joking. He figured the entire staff was just playing a prank on him. It would have been such a typical thing to do, to tell the new guy something ridiculous in the hopes he'd slip up and make an of himself. Then, once everyone quits laughing, they'd accept him as an employee and tell him it was all part of his initiation into the company.

Until he found out that no, it wasn't a prank, FNC really did stand for Fish and Cake. He thought the name was a bit silly at first, until he realized it could have been a lot worse. Besides, he liked fish, and he liked cake. Maybe not on the same plate, but suddenly the name didn't seem all that bizarre anymore.

From what Hongki understood, FNC was a relatively large company, and full of artists—solos, groups, models and actors alike—but their biggest money maker was their one and only boy band, FT Triple. Hongki didn't know much about them, other than the fact they were popular, his friend Yonghwa managed them, and they were supposedly known for being good with their instruments.

FT Triple, the first idol band in South Korea.

Hongki had never seen them perform, nor did he care enough to look up any of their performances beforehand. His job was to make them look pretty, not evaluate their vocal abilities.

Besides, as a former vocal coach, many pop stars tended to make him cringe in regards to technique. He wasn't sure if it was due to bad training, or if those stars simply quit caring enough to take care of their voices after they debuted. Whatever the reason, Hongki had a bit of habit of turning into a critic whenever it comes to the way someone handles their voice, so he figured it would be best to leave that inner critic of his at home.

It was 5:30AM now, and Hongki had just hustled his way past the company gate. He was supposed to be there at 5, makeup spread out and ready to go, but he'd been up late the previous night reviewing profiles and concepts for today's schedule. He fell asleep on his living room floor, and when he woke up just a couple hours later, he realized he'd forgotten to set an alarm, and was running late as all hell.

He hadn't had time to tame his mess of a mane or a grab a bite to eat before rushing out the door, so he simply threw on a hat and ran—quite literally—on an empty stomach. After sleeping for a mere two, maybe three hours, he wished he'd had time to at least stop for coffee. Caffeine was the only way he'd able to get through the day without keeling over, and as he finally hurried through the door of the company's largest dressing room, he was once again overcome with the thought that somebody had played a prank on him.

Instead of a multitude of staff members like Hongki expected, there were but three women, each engaged in sprightly conversation with one another. There was no manager, no idol group, and no sign of them having been there at all.

“Did I get the time wrong?”

The conversation in the room dwindled into a murmur, and suddenly three pairs of eyes were focused on Hongki, who was lingering in the doorway, brow knit together in confusion.

“Nobody told me the newbie was male,” was the first thing one of them said, the one with long orange hair and a deadpan gaze.

“Never mind that, why didn't anyone tell me the newbie was cute?” chimed the petite girl next to her, who smiled and tried to twirl a lock of her short hair around her finger. “I would've worn that adorable new skirt I just bought.”

“Why?” The first one scoffed. “So he can tell you it's as hideous as the rest of your wardrobe?”

“You're just envious of my superior fashion wisdom,” huffed the the other, to which Miss Orange Locks responded with an ever so feminine snort.

“Fashion wisdom? Please. You need a fashion exorcism.”

As the two began bickering with one another, Hongki merely stood there for a moment, a little lost, until he was greeted by the third individual, a warm smile on her face.

“Ignore them,” she said, sparing a quick glance at them and shaking her head a little. “They're like this every day.”

“Was I too late to the party or something?” Hongki asked, brow knit together, as he dramatically gestured around the room. “Where is everyone?”

She shrugged. “Late, as usual. They probably won't be here for another thirty minutes, maybe an hour. They live in their own time zone, you see.”

“Damn it!” Hongki hissed, a childish pout forming on his face as he carelessly dropped his things on an empty space on the table. “I could have gotten a coffee.”

“Want mine?” She offered, as she held up a paper coffee cup. “It's an espresso.”

Hongki perked up at this. “Double shot?”

“Triple.”

“I love you,” Hongki gushed, silently worshiping the coffee gods and relishing in the taste of sweet, sweet caffeine. That's it, this girl was officially his new best friend. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all, Hongki thought to himself with a sated smile.

“My name's Shin Hye,” she smiled, and then gestured at the girls across the room, who were still squabbling with each other. “Those two bickering over there, that's Jessica and Sunny. You get used to them eventually.”

“Hongki,” he returned, accepting and shaking her outstretched hand. He then pointed at the coffee cup, eternally grateful for the kindness of his new, angel-like friend. “Thank you for this. I promise I'll buy you another.”

Shin Hye shook her head. “Don't worry about it. You're going to need it a lot more than I do.”

Hongki's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

As if on cue, the door burst open, and in rushed several pairs of footsteps. Hongki's head lolled to the side, and he watched as a tall, lanky boy with two toned hair half walked, half bowed his way to one of the chairs in front of the mirror.

“Sorry, we're sorry,” he apologized over and over again, a sheepish smile on his face. “Leader-nim wouldn't wake up again.”

Directly behind him was a male who was quite a bit shorter than him, and equipped with a tired smile, a messy bed head, and clothes that were most certainly pajamas. Even so, Hongki had to admit, the little ducklings on his pants were overwhelmingly adorable.

Alongside him, a tanned fellow with a dorky bowl haircut and Harry Potter glasses. Hongki could only gape at him, suddenly overcome with the urge to grab an electric razor and shave off that monstrosity. Hongki grimaced. It looked like the kind of haircut a kindergartner would have. Hell, Hongki had that haircut in kindergarten, back when he had been too young to give a .

Finally, the last to walk in, behind manager Yonghwa, was someone who possessed a completely different aura—one that was cold, haughty and standoffish. Jet black hair, faintly tanned skin, and eyes so dark they resembled charcoal, this was a man who was the epitome of the moniker “dark prince.” He strode over to one of the chairs (because walking like a normal person was apparently beneath him), sat down, crossed his legs at the knees, and immediately began playing a game on his phone—all without acknowledging anybody in the room.

Hongki shook his head, just barely resisting the urge to scoff.

So. This was FT Triple.

“Good luck,” Shin Hye whispered, before she smiled sympathetically and scurried off to her work station in front of the mirror.

“Huh?” Hongki blinked. “What are you—Shin Hye! Explain to me what's going on!” When Shin Hye didn't respond and merely offered him one more sympathetic smile, Hongki looked toward Sunny, who was in the midst of pinning Duckling Pants Boy's hair out of his face.

“Don't look at me,” she muttered with a quick shake of her head. “I ain't touching that with a ten foot pole.”

Hongki sighed and ran a hand through his hair, watching as Yonghwa approached him, a small, sheepish smile at his lips.

“Is this the part where I thank you for getting me a job?” Hongki asked, the words coming out a little more sarcastic than he intended.

Yonghwa chuckled, the action sounding the slightest bit uncomfortable. “I wouldn't say that. You don't want to be thanking me just yet.”

Hongki's brow knit together. “Why?”

“Because you haven't met Jonghun. He's, uh...” Yonghwa hesitated, a grimace forming on his face before he blew a puff of air through his lips, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head. “He's got one hell of a personality, I'll tell you that much. He requires a lot of patience. A lot. A saint, really.”

Hongki scoffed. “If you want patience, I am so not the person to ask.”

“No, but you are stubborn. As stubborn as he is. If anyone can tame him, it's you.”

“Tame him? What is he, an animal?”

“Jonghun is...” Yonghwa began, hesitating once more, as if struggling to find the right words. Finally, he grimaced once again, wincing a little with his next words. “He's a little unpredictable sometimes. Honestly, he scares me.”

Hongki made a face. “What kind of a manager is afraid of his own group?”

“One that values his life,” Yonghwa shot back, before he placed his hands atop Hongki's shoulders and pushed him in the direction of said stubborn person. “Now go, time's ticking, and they're supposed to begin filming their music video in... oh god, an hour. The director will have my head. Go, now!”

Hongki rolled his eyes, ran a hand through his hair once more, and made his way over to Jonghun. Yonghwa had to have been exaggerating. There was no way this person was as bad as he'd been made out to be. However, the moment Hongki was at his side, Jonghun, without even looking up from his phone, snapped his fingers and held out his hand as though expecting to be handed something.

“Mimi, coffee.”

“Excuse me?” Hongki deadpanned.

Jonghun's fingers paused over the screen of his phone, his dark gaze flicking up to Hongki's face. Immediately, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him, those dark orbs of his colder than the frozen tundra.

“You're not Mimi.”

“I'm not? Damn, I guess I've got some explaining to do to my parents,” Hongki cracked flippantly as he spread out all his supplies across the table, trying to determine the shades best suited toward Jonghun's skin tone. Through the reflection in the mirror, Hongki watched as Jonghun crossed his arms over his chest and made an obvious show out of looking him up and down, sizing him up. Hongki pursed his lips. He could already feel his patience being tested.

“Who the hell are you?” Jonghun demanded.

Hongki turned to face him, a sarcastic smile at his lips. “Are you asking because you actually want to know my name, or are you implying I don't belong here?”

Jonghun rolled his eyes. “I don't care who you are, just bring me some coffee.”

“I'm not your servant,” Hongki scoffed.

“Mimi always brings me coffee,” he emphasized, as if this was somehow supposed to mean anything.

Hongki made a noise of disbelief. “Do I look like Mimi to you?”

“Do I look like I care?” Jonghun snapped. “You're one of the hired hands. When I ask you to do something, you bow your head and say yes sir. I'm Choi Jonghun, you should feel honored to assist an international star.”

Hongki rested his hands on the arms of the chair and leant close to Jonghun's face, until they were nose to nose with each other, Hongki's eyes spitting wildfire.

“Listen, you spoiled little diva,” he muttered. “Call yourself the king of ing Normandy for all I care, I'm not here to wait on you. I have a job to do. A job that you're making a hell of a lot more difficult than it ought to be.” Hongki smiled without humor. “I'm not known for my patience, Jonghun. Keep testing me, and you're going to find out why everyone used to be afraid of me.”

“Are you threatening me?” Jonghun sputtered, those dark eyes of his flickering with something—anger? Annoyance?

No, it was something more intense than that. An emotion so dark, it nearly sent chills up Hongki's spine.

“Keep pushing me, Jonghun. I dare you,” Hongki muttered, before realizing just how close his face was to Jonghun's. Hongki pulled back, annoyed by the strange spark between them. Jonghun merely stared at him for a moment, his dark gaze swimming with a vast array of fiery emotions, until he stood to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger at Hongki.

“I want him fired!”

Hongki gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, his fingers reaching up to massage the headache forming at his temples.

This was going to be a long day.

><><><><

A/N

Why FT Triple? 
Because it isn't FT Island without all five of them (six in my heart.)
So, the band is FT Triple + Seunghyun :D

This is my first time writing something like this, so bear with me a little, I'm still figuring some things out.
How was the introduction? 
Good? Bad?
Anybody wanna slap Jonghun? 

Let me know what you think in the comments!
As always, feedback keeps writers writing! 
 

I love you all. :D