four.

After much reflexion, Donghae decides to bring them to La Réserve. It’s a fancy restaurant just a couple of blocks away from the company that serves some of the best French cuisine in the district. Or at least that’s what Siwon keeps telling him every time that they go there for lunchbreak. Donghae wouldn’t really know the difference between a fast-food burger and a gourmet one, so let’s not even get started on cordon bleu and whatever. He mostly likes this particular restaurant because they do make a really mean steak. Plus it looks like it’d suitably impress potential dates, so that’s quite quaint indeed, isn’t it?

Not that Hyukjae’s his date or anything. But, you know. It certainly doesn’t hurt to make a good impression every so often.

Donghae glances at Hyukjae from the corners of the eyes and grimaces. Well, he thinks bemusedly, this is awkward. , but he has no idea what the appropriate rules are when a CEO invites their intern for lunch, especially when said intern is feeling a bit cross. Admittedly Donghae doesn’t know about that many rules in general, but it’s the thought of it that counts surely.

They left the company a couple of minutes ago, heading to the restaurant by foot. They haven’t shared a single word since then. A heavy silence surrounds them as they keep on walking, and Donghae doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do about it. He’s too oblivious or too chicken or too much of both to understand what all of this is about.

Next to him, Hyukjae just continues to scowl. A frown draws his eyebrows together and pulls the corners of his lips into an unhappy grimace. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, like the perfect picture of stubbornness. He glares at his shoes as he stomps along the busy streets, as if they did something personally offending to him. He’s so caught in his silent glowering that he almost bumps into a few by-passers; Donghae’s quick to pull him aside before that can happen. Each time Hyukjae glances up at him with an embarrassed flush and then looks away hastily.

“Sorry,” he mumbles under his breath. It’s possibly the first word that he’s uttered in the fifteen minutes that they’ve been outside.

Donghae offers him an awkward twist of his mouth that’s supposed to be a grin, but says nothing. He has a feeling that Hyukjae wouldn’t have heard him anyway, troubled as he seems to be by his thousand thoughts. It’s a little disconcerting, a little flattering, isn’t it, that he’s probably the reason why Hyukjae looks so agitated.

It’s very awkward, too, if Donghae’s completely honest. He has the uneasy feeling that he’s about to get scolded by his own subordinate again—or maybe by an annoyed boyfriend, and he really doesn’t know what to think about that. The thought leaves him wrong-footed, and if he knows whether he should go for professionalism or take a more intimate approach. Considering that he’s always been rather crap at both, his only option is feeling nervous and generally confused.

Donghae’s faintly amazed at his social ineptitude.

“Uh, we’re almost here,” he says and waves vaguely in front of them. He almost slaps an old lady in the face as a result, who huffs in indignation even as he apologizes profusely.

Hyukjae stays quiet. Donghae peers at him with curious, vaguely terrified eyes. He wonders if he’s really mad about something or just very embarrassed about the yelling from earlier. It’s probably a bit of both, he guesses sympathetically. , but he’s rather glad that he’s not in Hyukjae’s shoes right now, because damn, he wouldn’t have known how to handle all of the stress.

To be fair, Donghae’s never shouted at a superior before. Back when he’d been an intern, he’d been much too busy hiding behind his desk and-slash-or panicking about being completely useless. After that he graduated from university and built the company with his friends, and he’s always been his own boss ever since. Still, he can imagine that it’s probably not the best of experiences.

Hyukjae’s still glaring at his shoes, which is starting to be just a bit worrying. His pout seems to deepen with each brisk step that he takes next to Donghae, like the promise of a tantrum about to happen. He looks so petulant as he continues to glower stubbornly, a bit like an unhappy kid who didn’t get his way and wants to make sure that everybody knows how cross he is about it. It’s a stark contrast to the tough, mature façade that he usually tries so hard to show off at work.

Donghae feels something soft grow inside his chest at the thought. A small smile spreads across his lips before he can think about stopping it, secret and fond and so very warm. Catching a glimpse of Hyukjae’s younger, childish side makes his heart ache gently for some odd reason. Maybe, he thinks—maybe it’s because he cares more than he’d like to admit. Maybe it’s because sometimes he worries that Hyukjae’s too much in a rush to become a proper adult. It’s just, his impatience might make him forget to enjoy his youth while he still can, and that’s a truly terrifying thought.

Donghae knows all about the harshness of the outside world, knows about the wonderful promises that it holds, only for everything to eventually crumble down into bitter reality. The real world isn’t a pleasant place, not at all. It’s painful and merciless and will crush some of the greatest dreams without the slightest qualm. The thought that Hyukjae might stumble upon this hole completely unprepared makes Donghae sick in the stomach. He’s lived it before, and it’s—, but it’s bad. He doesn’t want this boy, who still has so many hopes and dreams and such bright, clever eyes, to go through this nightmare without happy memories of his youth to cheer him up from time to time.

It’s a bit silly, really, but whenever Hyukjae allows himself to act childish in front of Donghae, even just a little, it’s like a small victory. It’s an “it’ll be okay, a “he’s going to be okay”.

“We’re, uh, here,” Donghae says finally as they stop in front of the restaurant. Hyukjae spares him a quick glance, apparently still too reluctant to look at him properly. He clears his throat awkwardly and holds the door open for Hyukjae. “Come on; let’s go in.”

Distracted from his sulking by the fancy and slightly intimidating place, Hyukjae sends him a half-curious, half-nervous look. Donghae offers him a reassuring grin in return. It’s shy and a little wobbly around the edges, because in the half an hour that they spent avoiding each other’s gazes, he’s forgotten how breathtaking, world-tumbling-upside-down it is to be the focus of those bright, clever eyes.

Hyukjae’s look then turns speculative, a little pensive. Donghae feels a light blush spread across his cheekbones and he ducks his head down hurriedly.

Inside the waiter brings them to a vacant table near the windows. He hands them the menus then starts listing down specialties and wines, in a fluent French that makes Donghae feel a little dizzy and lost.

“Uh, thanks,” he mutters under his breath. He understands now why it’s usually Siwon who puts his order; he actually knows what’s good and what’s not. Donghae can’t even figure out what entrées means, for ’s sake. “Uh,” he repeats.

“If I may, sir,” the waiter clears his throat politely. He offers Donghae a knowing grin, looking mildly amused. “I would suggest the onion soup to start your meal; as the main course, we have a very nice tournedos de boeuf that I’m sure you would both enjoy.” He pauses. “That would be beef, of course.”

Donghae blinks. From the corners of the eyes, he sees Hyukjae duck his head down to hide a smile. He blushes, embarrassed and a little pleased that Hyukjae has finally cheered up some since earlier.

“Ah.” He takes a last clueless look at the menu. “Well, I, uh. I’ll take the, um, toor-nuh-doh then please.”

“I’ll take the same,” Hyukjae says with a winning smile, as if trying to make up for Donghae’s terrible accent with his charms only. Donghae has no doubt that he would succeed too. That, and he has the distinct feeling that Hyukjae has too much pride to ever be caught fumbling with the pronunciation of unfamiliar French words.

“A very good choice indeed, sirs,” the waiter says solemnly. Then he disappears into the kitchens to start their orders, leaving an awkward silence to settle behind him.

Donghae gulps again. He picks up a fork for a second then puts it back down when he realizes that he has no idea what to do with it.

In front of him Hyukjae just fidgets nervously in his chair. He glances up at Donghae every now and then, like he has a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue but doesn’t dare to speak them up just yet. He alternates between frowning down at his napkin, and frowning at Donghae with narrowed, accusing eyes.

Although he knows that Hyukjae’s waiting for him to break the ice first, Donghae sits very still in his chair and keeps his mouth shut. If that kid thought that intimidation would work on him then he’s going to be thoroughly mistaken. He’s had years of practice with Kyuhyun and Siwon.

Silence stretches between them for a long time, enough for the waiter to come back with their drinks a few minutes later. He leaves them on the table and then throws a faintly disapproving look at Donghae, as if to say ‘well, won’t you do something about it?’.

Donghae really doesn’t want to, thanks ever so much. If it was only up to him, he’d just leave the topic unresolved for the rest of time.

But he knows, too, that it’s important for Hyukjae that he asks his questions and finds his answers. Not only so that he doesn’t think that Donghae is some kind of high-level scammer, but also so that he can hear from someone who’s more experienced in life that he is.

Donghae really doesn’t think that he’s the appropriate person to talk to. , but he barely knows how to act like a proper adult on the best of days. Still, he really has to do this, doesn’t he? He gulps. Taking in a fortifying breath, he finally opens his mouth to break the silence.

“I—” Hyukjae starts before Donghae can even utter a sound, leaving him fumbling with words that he has to hold back. “I’m sorry for earlier. It wasn’t my place to yell at you like I did; I’m really sorry.”

“Oh.” Donghae clears his throat. He certainly didn’t expect that. “Uh.”

Some part of him wants to just laugh it off, but he has a hunch that it wouldn’t be well received. He darts his eyes away and scratches the side of his head uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. He He vaguely wishes that he could declare a timeout and ask his friends for advice—they’d know what to say.

“It’s, uh.” Donghae pauses, feeling a bit lost. “It’s okay, really. I’m sure you must have been very… surprised, I guess?”

Hyukjae snorts in disbelief then flushes. His smooth hair falls over his eyes as he ducks his head down apologetically. “Yes,” he says. “I was really surprised. I just don’t understand—”

Hyukjae looks up uncertainly at Donghae. His features are twisted in a mix of frustration and confusion, and Donghae feels the urge to reach out and bring back that beautiful smile on his face. “I just don’t understand.”

“What do you not understand? Look, I—” Donghae shrugs a little helplessly and spreads his arms in a silent invitation; he’s rewarded with a small, amused grin. “You can ask me anything, okay? I will—I’ll try to answer as best as I can.”

Hyukjae bites down on his lower lip in thoughts. He fiddles absentmindedly with his glass, watching the water move around the bottom like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. For a long moment he doesn’t say anything. Donghae wonders briefly if maybe he’s decided to drop the topic.

“I thought,” he says finally, “I thought that you hated your job. I mean, it—... it really looks like you were forced into it sometimes, you know? You’re always late and you slack off so much and I kept thinking, ‘why is he still here if he hates it so much?’” He tips his glass to the side until the water almost flows over the edge. “But today you—… you were so good and it’s—… it’s weird, is what it is.”

Finally Hyukjae looks up and he still looks so lost—but also a little accusing and hopeful, as if he trusts Donghae to have all the answers that he’s looking for, silently demanding to hear them. His fingers start a rhythmic, frantic tap-tap-tap-tap around the edge of the table. It reaches their ears in a faint background noise and betrays his agitation; Donghae feels a little guilty that he’s caused him so much distress.

Hyukjae’s eyes carry expectations that Donghae’s not so sure that he can handle. They lie heavy on his conscience, a steady reminder that he’s supposed to be the more mature, more experienced one of them two. It makes him feel rather nauseous.

“Uh, well,” Donghae says after a while then winces a bit at his own lack of eloquence, “honestly I don’t think it’s really possible to be in my position in a company like mine if you don’t like your job at least a little.”

Leaning back into his chair, he stares vacantly in the distance. He remembers the early days of this big, great thing that’s become such a huge part of his life now. For better and for worse.

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