I decided to go with this romanization Min Taeju (민 태 주), Lee Yoochan (이 유찬) and Kim Bunhong (김분홓).

“Yoochan-a?” Min Taeju craned his neck to look into Lee Yoochan’s small office. He couldn't see the chair in the dark behind all the boxes, papers and toys but he was sure that he had seen the young man hide in here.

“Yoochan-a! Come out. Don't hide in here. This is not the end of the world,” Taeju’s voice was soothing, trying to draw the young CEO of NextIn out.

The failed CEO.

Yoochan had failed.

He had made an error in his calculations with dramatic consequences for their young startup. The standing order from their biggest customer was gone now. But the financial loss wasn't what had made Yoochan crawl into his too big chair, turned facing away from the door in the dark.

He was fighting a hard battle. Feelings. Keeping everything down. Inside. Not to let anything slip out. His chest ached with the pressure of unacknowledged fears and the well inside of him was filled to the brim with unshed tears.

Their small company had grown over the last one-and-a-half years, they had recruited twenty people now and Yoochan had felt this office become a home, their employees like a family to him.

Which he had destroyed now.

With one careless, arrogant act he had done it. They had lost the order, the money. And they would have to set all but three of their employees - his self-made family - free. NextIn wouldn't be able to support anything but the bare minimum for at least six months.

Taeju had been right of course. They had to make sacrifices to get to the top.

But why did it hurt so bad?

His thoughts drifted to Kim Bunhong, but no. He clamped down on it, extinguishing the thought at the source. No. He wouldn't think of her.

The light was switched on.

Taeju walked through the small office, turning the swivel chair around. His eyes widened when he saw the small man holed up on his chair. Taeju observed the wary eyes, tense shoulders and empty gaze.

Yoochan’s hands opened and flexed around an old pen but he didn't acknowledge the other's presence.

“Yoochan-a…“ Taeju’s voice was deep and soft, his eyes so warm that Yoochan thought he could feel the warmth approach towards his own cold chest.

“Oh, Yoochan-a,” Taeju sank to his knees and embraced the other, folding him into his arms like a doll.

Yoochan didn't react for a long moment but Taeju's hands, his back, eased his tension. Suddenly he couldn't keep the walls up anymore. He felt a burning pain in the back of his throat when the tears started rolling down his cheeks and the sobs started to escape from his lips, trying to press them together. To keep it together. Futile.

Yoochan swore to himself to never allow himself to get this attached ever again. It brought only pain. It always did.