The series of events weren't exactly how he expected it to be when he signed the contract.

 

Or unknowingly signed the contract, rather.

 

The last time Sungjong had a job interview was two years ago at a small pastry shop when he was kind of desperate to do something in his life other than routinely do household chores and add ridiculous tags on Tumblr gifs he reblog. It was tiresome to carry the weight of boredom in his 40 pound physique within the corners of his room he shared with his annoying brother.

 

Well, annoying would be an understatement, as his heck of a dongsaeng would keep poking fun of his hyung by calling him pretty and beautiful and kyupta and even if he had told Sunkyu so many times that he had always wanted to look manlier than the hunky, 200-lb hairy-chested chihuahua breeder next door. If additional body hair implant would do the job, he'd be more than willing to spend his childhood savings to look a bit more masculine.

 

But Sunkyu digressed. He had always accepted Sungjong whatever he was even if his hyung wanted to become someone other people would socially accept. Sunkyu was the first person to, in one ordinary summer afternoon, discover the letters Sungjong had been carefully slipping in inside a sneaking enclosure he carved underneath his bed. But he did not say anything. He never planned to say anything (or perhaps he's not good in saying it at all) and he had never embarked divulging those badly misconstructed english quotes his hyung wrote for someone  nicked "LS" in school. Sure, Sunkyu is annoying, obnoxious, and a brat to most, but Sungjong knew Sunkyu was accepting beneath his awkward silence. That he already knew of his brother's knowledge of his highschool crush, his constant verbal, and occasionally physical, defense when his friends kept on calling his hyung a girlie behind his back, and he never wanted another loving, unhomophobic dongsaeng other than him.

 

"I dont think he needs to take the exam,"

 

His soon-to-be creative supervisor remarked at the other cubicle.

 

"But at least I should see his... Ummm, skills."

 

Probably one of the manpower heads handling his future project lineups.

 

"I know this guy alright? I trust his creatives. I know his stuff. I know what to feed him when he runs out of ideas. Must remind you I badly need a graphic artist right now, and the promo plug is airing tonight, and i'm running out of time."

 

"I... Umm, excuse me but i don't mind, really..."

 

Sungjong walked in, interrupting them. He felt that these people seemed to be debating perpetually whether he should take the practical exam of making a pink vector unicorn defecate three layers of stars, fireworks, and musical notes from its in 3D in two hours. He also thought his attempt to metaphor-ize his thoughts failed to translate in words.

 

"Excuse me, but you don't even do 3D here. I dont even think your workstations can even handle a singing carrot for a tv plug, for christ sake"

 

"Singing carrots we can, but my staff just don't do 3d because it takes years to finish rend--"

 

"Exactly my point"

 

"I had him sign the contract already. You people can stop now.

 

What, wasnt really a question when Sungjong finally landed his eyes on that calloused hand who took his in a matter of Superman's winking--his two delicate fingers wrapped on a black, almost run out ballpoint pen, standing a few millimeters from the swished that seemed to come from a character that barely read Jong. 

 

Why he never noticed the hands of a 20-something dude in a military hoodie pulling him out of some other people's corporate debacle was something he had to decipher himself. Or maybe he was probably too busy looking at the guy a few yards away from him who was staring blankly at his huge screen on his work desk, probably trying to think ways on how to silently implant on his loud co-worker's forehead in front of him.

 

The guy was already gone when he moved his head back to his direction. And there were no innocent consumed upon his departure.

 

What the planet Earth seem to be concerned about now is how his delicate right hand was still wrapped inside the hoodie man's knuckles and how he managed to forcefully write his complete name and signature on the employment contract without the human resources' consent. Without his consent.

 

Without the two talking heads in front of him's consent.

 

He had not even read the part how much he's getting.

 

Or touched the actual document beforehand.

 

monkeyballs, he mumbled to no one.

 

-------

 

"I thought you're taking the job because you wanted to move on from Sungy--,"

 

"Shut up, hyung. I don't remember asking for your opinion,"

 

Howon dodged a notepad flying towards his direction. "You're never good at making a good comeback special, kiddo."

 

"Whatever, microdick," Sungjong snarled.

 

"Oh you're so cute when you're angry. And no, my is amazing."

 

"Receipts, please," Sungjong winked.

 

"Whoah, relax kid. My big spoon can wait. But come to think of it... I've been offering you my body and soul the moment your pretty face landed on my doorstep so I thought your feelings for me has been long gone since--"

 

And there was silence when Howon failed to push himself out of the frying pan Sungjong served to him. 

 

Where did the frying pan come from, he asked seconds after he gained consciousness.

 

----------

 

Hi guys. It's been a long time comin' but I'm here now. I know this is a lame starter. I'm still trying to handle my writing since i havent really written a lengthy prose in like a decade so please bear with this weak un-beta-ed first chapter T___T Feedback is hiiigghhlly appreciated (but i hope you do like it--well if you don't, please tell me. I am soooo open to criticisms) Will edit later.