“You seem sunny like the weather today,” Wonpil remarks as he takes the seat in front of you.

You just flash a smile and look at your plate. Getting ready to eat your lunch, you grab the spoon and fork, a very familiar figure suddenly appears beside you.

“May I?”

Wonpil gets startled and almost chokes on his water. As he puts the glass back on the table, he stands up and faces the CEO. You, on the other hand, are still seated while looking at your boss, puzzled.

“Go ahead, Sir. We’ll just—“

“No,” he cuts Wonpil off, “I mean, I’ll have lunch with the two of you.”

Wonpil quietly returns to his seat as Mr. Park takes his, too. You’re thinking that it’ll be awkward eating with your boss but surprisingly it’s not. You actually imagined your lunch to only have dead air, awkward clearing of throats, and small sounds from the utensils but the CEO keeps initiating confabs—which is not work-related, and thankfully that Wonpil’s also with you (he talks to the boss more comfortable than before—way comfortable). He asks about what’s going on with your normal lives, and he shares about his, too.

Somehow, you feel like they have their own little bubble—even though Mr. Park faces you and asks you things from time to time. Am I imagining things? Maybe it’s just my awkward self.

He talks about how he originally wants to be in the film industry because he fell in love with three-dimensional animation through animated films. But his brother has been a gamer ever since they were little and when he made him watch some cinematic game trailers (World of Warcraft, Final Fantasy, The Witcher, and Assassin’s Creed) he thought ‘Why not hit two birds with one stone?’ He can develop games and do 3D animated trailers—it may be way shorter than 3D animated films, but somehow, it’s still kind of the same.

The boss looks softer (as Wonpil calls it), his eyes even sparkle when he talks about animation and his brother. But there’s more. You squint your eyes.

“How are you spending your afternoon?” Mr. Park queries after finishing his plate.

“I’d probably watch some animated movies with characters that play instruments,” Wonpil answers “I’m actually excited about this new game. I like the idea of having musical instruments as weapons.”

Mr. Park nods in agreement, “My brother was thrilled, too. You know how I always consult him with the game designs and all of the concepts in all of our games?” Wonpil nods and you stay still “When I told him about this, he can’t wait for it that he goes here almost everyday to see how it’s going. You still remember him?” The question is directed to Wonpil.

With a questioning look, you tilt your head and see your best friend takes a brief peek at your face before turning back to the CEO, “Yes, of course.”

The conversation is interrupted by a phone call. You notice Mr. Park glances at you before excusing himself to answer the call and leave the table. You cross your arms and arch your brows at your best friend who’s now looking at you with guilt etched on his face.

“I had my internship in their studio when he was just starting,” he bites his lip, fumbles his fingers, and looks away “He was also my senior in college. That’s why I know his brother.”

So that explains why it seemed like they had their own little bubble. But you still can’t help but think that there’s more to it.

 “Can you make one for me, too?” You almost jump in surprise upon hearing the CEO’s voice behind you, few hours after lunch, asking you to make coffee.

“Sir!” You look at him and he smiles a bit when he realizes he startled you, “You should have just called me. Where’s Jackson?”

He shrugs as the side of his lips rises. There is a slight thump in your chest when you remember someone who always does that familiar gesture.

“You know my secretary,” he softly chuckles “he might be in B2 (basement two, where the sports area is) doing some fencing or playing ball”

Jackson is Mr. Park’s good friend. If he had not been his friend for a long time, he might have been fired right away. But even though Jackson is always playful, he gets serious when he works—and he does them exceedingly. And personally, you think Mr. Park needs someone like Jackson beside him. They contrast each other which makes them a match. The chief needs a good laugh from time to time and for sure, Jackson is doing a good job in that matter. He needs to loosen up a bit and you’ve seen him do so with Jackson.

At the edge of your line of vision, you see Wonpil about to enter the pantry but halts when he sees the back of the chief. With his lips tightly pressed against each other forming a thin line, he quietly steps back while doing some finger hearts before vanishing from your vision.

You furrow your brows and faces the CEO again, “Alright. Two teaspoons of honey and a dash of cinnamon?” He narrows his eyes on you as if wondering how you knew his coffee. You laugh softly, “Jackson makes me do it every time he catches me making coffee,” you explain without being asked. “I’ll bring it to your office when I’m done, Sir”

When he’s about to leave, he faces you again and tells you that even if the others made their point this morning, he still finds your idea interesting. “Ice blue,” he smirks as he slightly shakes his head and leaves you confused.

What was that about? Your chest tightens and his smiling face flashes in your head again. He’s been especially nice to you these days, even ate lunch with you, that it feels weird. ‘Maybe he really likes you’ Wonpil’s voice echoes in your mind and you hastily shake your head and slap your face before actually turning red. No.

With your coffee in your left hand and Mr. Park’s in the other, you go out of the pantry only to see your boss standing in the hallway with a hand in his pocket, a small smile painted on his face, and eyes darted on something—someone. Your curiosity wins over you so you walk faintly towards him and trace his line of vision. A talking Wonpil, all smiles, welcomes your sight. Your lips part and you slowly shift your gaze to the chief. His eyes are filled with—adoration?

Oh. That’s the something.

You clear your throat, feeling a little bit guilty from cutting his sightseeing moment. He looks at you while keeping his cool, but you’re sure he faltered for a second or two. “Coffee?” You hand him his cup and he takes it from you and utters his thanks. He takes another quick glimpse on your best friend before excusing himself to go back to his office.

“Oh!” You are once again startled with that sudden voice “I was just about to ask you for coffee but I guess I’ll have one alone now”

“It’s okay, Younghyun,” you beam “I’ll drink with you. Want me to make one for you?”

“I actually want to get coffee downstairs,” he lifts his hand and points at you “but on second thought, I’ll take your offer.”

You go back to the pantry and make another cup for him. You both decide to watch an animated movie together so you walk together to one of the company’s mini-theaters. Younghyun talks about how he suddenly got load of works yesterday. He made adjustments to the audio of the old games and he was asked to do others’ works, too.

“I even told you the other day that I was gonna see you tomorrow—which is yesterday—but I didn’t even had a glimpse of you,” he nonchalantly states.

You feel a rush of blood creep to your cheeks so you just awkwardly chuckle. Just when you’re about to enter the mini-theater, a booming voice calling Younghyun ades the hallway.

“You have another assignment,” Jackson, smiling widely, walks (slightly hoping) towards you. He tells Younghyun that Mr. Park wants him to let him listen to the options to use for the trailer for the new game.

Younghyun’s eyes widen, mouth agape, and dashes away as he loudly tells you sorry for going ahead. Jackson drags you to the Rec Room to play some games.

It’s still sunny when you step out of the building after work. Guess I’ll have to head straight home today, huh? You rummage your bag to check one last time if you forget something that you don’t notice who walks pass you.

A forearm suddenly rests on the top of your head, “Yo!” he exclaims.

Your eyes widen as you look at him before grabbing his forearm away from your head. You look back to the company building, then at your left and next is to your right, wondering where he came from. “Why are you here?”

“Errands,” he arch a brow “let’s grab something to eat” he demands as he casually rests his arm on your shoulder.

You lift your shoulder and shake it to make him take his arm down but he adjusts it to lay it more comfortably.

“Do you want some ramen or rice cakes?” he quiries, “let’s take a break from chicken for a while. We’ve been eating it for four consecutive days”

Four consecutive days. He’s counting?

“Can you please take your arm off my shoulder?”

“Ramen and rice cakes!” He avoids your remark “Lezgedit!”

“Let’s, get, it,” you correct emphasizing the ‘let’s’ and ‘get’

“Lezgedit!” He repeats.

You continue to let him drag you (more like you’re coming with him willingly but of course you won’t admit that even to yourself), as he shares what happened to his day. ‘A wonderful-beautiful-me in a life of day’ as he calls it.

“Hey, Chicken!” you call him “look! A new pretzel parlor has opened, let’s eat there instead”

“Who are you calling Chicken?” he asks, ignoring (once again) the rest of your sentence.

You tell him that you’ll call him that from now on since he keeps offering chicken for the past days and he hasn’t told you his name (so you’re not telling him yours either). He raises a brow and shuffles your hair. You take a step away and punch his arm in return.

“Man, how can someone as small as you punch so hard?” He winces as he grips his arm, rubbing it as if trying to ease the pain. He lays his forearm back on your shoulder again and you do not protest.

He orders three servings of pretzel sticks and points at you, “She’s paying.” You look at him with a you-are-so-unbelievable-look, but without a word you open your bag and take your wallet to pay.

He gives you one of the cups and he claims the other two as his. You enter a coffee shop to grab coffee to let your irritation meter drop. After telling your drink, the chicken guy tells his order, too. “He’s paying” you tell the barista before walking away.

You wait for him outside and when he goes out, he walks pass you, taking big steps and not giving you your coffee. “This is mine. I paid for this,” he retorts when you told him to give you your drink.

As if your feet have their minds of their own, they take both of you at the very familiar place—the shed in the park. It’s also starting to drizzle.

You both sit on the bench and put your things on it, too. He sits in a cross-legged position (indian sit), facing you. You start having conversation—like you’re friends; or just a normal getting to know each other—telling what each other’s life is like. You even have the same favorite band.

“I’ve been listening to Stop the Rain one of these days,” as if on cue, the raindrops star falling heavier “Maybe because of the monsoon season”

“So,” he trails off as he takes a look at the raindrops “you always wish for the rain to stop? I mean, I know the song doesn’t literally speak about the rain, but you know, like now… Do you want it to stop?”

You slowly turn to face him. No. “Yes,” you utter under your breath before taking a bite of your pretzel. I don’t want to. I want to spend more time with you, get to know you better. “Who would want to be stuck here with someone like you?”

He scoffs, “Oh, I bet there are a lot. With a face like mine? I’m sure they’d be more than willing to spend a week with me here.” He takes a sip from his drink “Speaking of, you’ve been here with me for 5 straight days already.”

You roll your eyes. You look at your cup and there’s no pretzel left. You attempt to get one from his but he swiftly slaps the back of your hand.

“I paid for that!” You state matter-of-factly. He just looks at you as he chews carefully. On the second try, you finally succeed. In return, he reaches for your coffee and takes a sip. You look at him with wide eyes—your gaze landed on his lips with your straw between them. Indirect kiss. You feel heat creeping on your cheeks and you choke on the pretzel which makes you cough uncontrollably.

He stretches his arm to give you your coffee for you to drink and make your coughing stop but you refuse.

“You better drink it before you die,” he asserts “I don’t wanna be a suspect of your death.”

You glare at him and hastily take the cup. You open the lid and drink it. He raises one eyebrow and smiles widely when he figures out why you choked.

“Oh I see,” he grins wider “You were thinking about indirect kiss, aren’t you?” He leans closer and whispers, “You want a direct one?”

-

Thoughts please :)