124.
I would like to say this image inspired a lot of it -- his clothes anyway.
(I should also say this was basically written for Jeny, the most vocal onho shipper I know ♥)
-
Lee Jinki is the editor-in-chief of Sleek, a magazine catered towards young men interested in fashion, and a perfectionist and workaholic. Starting the magazine a year after he had graduated from Seoul National University with a degree in information management, of all things, within a few years it was the fifth highest grossing fashion magazine in South Korea, right behind Vogue and Singles.
Jinki is also Minho's new boss starting tomorrow.
"I heard," Donghae says conspiratorially, leaning closer, "that basically all his personal assistants in the past three years have left their job. Not that they've been fired -- they just left." He raises an eyebrow.
"But they also say that work under Jinki for a year and you'll have any editorial position you want in the country," Hyukjae says and steals some of Donghae's beef.
"How did you even get this job," Jonghyun says, sipping his drink.
"Good looks and charm," Donghae and Hyukjae chirp and high five.
Minho walks away from their table.
"You're the new Jiyong?" a voice says as Minho steps up to the security desk. He looks up to see a man, dressed impeccably in a sweater and skinny jeans, look at him incredulously from behind the security gates.
"Um."
The security guard raises an eyebrow, and even he's dressed neatly, hair in an artistic disarray and fake frames perched on his nose. He rolls his eyes as he takes out a pass and slides it over the desk as the other man swipes his to get through.
"You really think he'll do the job?" the security guard asks, not letting go of the pass as the other man narrows his eyes and tugs.
"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" he says icily, yanks, and turns to Minho. He tries to not curl his lip but Minho can see it, and holds up his resume.
"Choi Minho, pleased to meet you."
"Kim Kibum," the man says and disregards the sheets, looking Minho up and down.
Minho's dressed in black slacks, a bit crinkled and made of some blend of cotton and polyester, a white blouse whose collar he can't get to stand straight and unshined loafers. He knows how he must look and Kibum apparently does too because he turns around as if the sight disgusts him and leads him to the lifts.
"Every Monday Jinki comes in at seven AM to drop off the newest draft of Sleek before he goes to meet a client at seven-fifteen," Kibum says as they walk into a lift, and Minho blinks before rummaging around in his briefcase to get a notepad and pen. "By the time he comes back at half past eight, he expects his coffee on his table -- Americano, dark roast, super hot -- and an outline of his day. He'll also page you and call you throughout the day so always keep your phone on you twenty-four seven."
The lift opens again at level twenty-seven, the narrow corridor bustling with activity as people hurry to and fro, carrying piles of clothing or sheets and looking harassed. Kibum leads Minho down the very centre of the path of chaos, casually leaning to on side when an article of clothing gets too close.
"I'm the first assistant so I'll mainly be in the office, taking calls, helping Jinki out with design decisions, that kind of stuff," Kibum says as he waves a hand to encompass 'that kind of stuff' as he pushes open glass doors. "You're the second assistant so you'll mainly be running errands, getting coffee, going in and out of the office, that sort of stuff."
They arrive at a completely white, quite small office that is completely symmetrical. On the desks of either side of them are white, desktop Macs with a white lamp and a white chair. Behind each desk is a door built into the wall, barely distinguishable, and Kibum points to the left desk.
"That's mine; the door behind it is the cupboard where you hang your coat and Jinki's." He points to the right. "And that desk is yours. The door is the kitchen. Can you make coffee?"
The first thought that crosses Minho's mind is, Instant? But he had worked at a cafe for a year or so during university and he vaguely remembers heating up milk and burning his fingers. So he nods, and Kibum nods back.
"Good. Jinki prefers the coffee from that independent cafe downstairs but you can make some in the kitchen if you're rushed. At all times, the phone must be answered -- you must answer it, because calls roll over to voicemail and Jinki gets very upset if that happens. One of us must be at the desk at all times, and --"
Kibum cuts himself off and looks at the phone, and there's a split second before it rings and he picks it up, flicking his fringe out of the way in the process.
"Lee Jinki's office," he says coolly. "He's not available right now. Yes. Yes, I will tell him you called. Yes." Kibum puts the phone down and mutters under his breath as he leans over his desk to type something up.
"Jiyong," a voice calls from the next door, and Minho looks at Kibum, who rolls his eyes.
"He means you," Kibum says, and Minho takes a step forward before Kibum grabs his briefcase.
"No, not this disgusting thing. Okay, now go, go!"
Minho stumbles forward, entering a much larger and spacious office with beautiful photographs of waterfalls, deserts and dams adorning the walls and a completely glass wall overlooking the skyline of Seoul. Jinki’s desk is made of glass, another desktop Mac seated on it, and a spread of magazines over to his right.
“Jiyong-“
“Minho, actually,” Minho says, and Jinki freezes for a moment before a wide smile spreads across his face, completely fake.
“Minhwa, my apologies,” Jinki says, completely cold, and Minho doesn’t correct him again.
“I understand you went to Konhuk University for journalism, correct?”
Minho nods.
“And you have no interest in fashion, correct?” Jinki looks Minho up and down as he says this, and Minho tries not to flinch when Jinki’s gaze rests on his face.
“Yes.”
“I see,” Jinki says. “And before today, you didn’t know of Sleek?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Jinki holds his hand out for Minho’s resume, and he stumbles as he walks over.
“So how did you come to apply to Sleek?” Jinki asks as he skims over the papers.
“I applied to everything I could,” Minho says softly, “before I got a call from Kim Kibum asking me to come in for an interview-“
“I see,” Jinki says and passes the resume back, still smiling blandly. Minho blinks as he takes the sheets.
“Well, then I hope you enjoy your time here,” Jinki says before looking back to his computer. Minho doesn’t move, utterly confused, before Jinki’s eyes flick over. “Thank you.”
Minho flees.
“So I said, what were you thinking, pairing Marc Jacobs with DKNY! I mean, honestly, can you imagine? Jinki would’ve thrown a fit if he saw it! So-oh god, who are you?”
Minho looks up from the crumpled paper in his hands to see a young man looking at him distastefully, reclining casually against Kibum’s desk and dressed, of course, impeccably.
“Is there a before-and-after piece I don’t know about?” the man says to Kibum, who snorts, smiling as he types something up.
“This is Choi Minho, the new Jiyong,” Kibum says as his eyes flicker over to Minho. “Minho, this is Lee Taemin, the head fashion coordinator here.”
“Pleased to meet you, I think,” Taemin says, but doesn't make a move. He then whispers to Kibum, "the new Jiyong, huh?"
"Mmhm," Kibum hums, before he adds, "I know."
"Wow, you weren't kidding."
Minho slides into his seat and resolves to ignore them for the rest of the day.
"Cufflinks," Jinki says, and Tiffany scrambles to hold up some, a pair in each hand. Jinki regards them both solemnly, pursing his lips.
"I had trouble deciding," Tiffany confesses, looking at the cufflinks as well. "They're both so different -- it could change the whole tone of the outfit, really." Minho peers and they look exactly the same -- silver and round-ish.
"If you go with the ones with the diamonds in them, they'd really spice things up," Taemin says, pointing to the pair in Tiffany's left hand. "But that could overshine the suit, which we definitely don't want. Those ones are a bit too angular for the pinstripes, though."
Minho can't help it -- he snorts. They're pieces of plastic -- well, metal and diamonds in this case. Tiny! Insignificant. Fucking Gucci -- or was it Armani? Armani made suits, so they'd make cufflinks as well, right?
He looks up from his notepad when he realises the room is completely silent and staring at him. Kibum moves his head an inch to the side, shaking his head, and Taemin looks at him with cold eyes.
"You're probably thinking that no one would notice the cufflinks, right?" Jinki says as he takes the ones without the diamonds and puts them into the pocket of the blazer Hyoyeon's holding up. She busies herself neatening the suit before hanging it up again, as Jinki takes the other cufflinks from Tiffany and holds them up to the light, admiring them. "I used to think like that." Jinki looks sideways and gives Minho an enigmatic smile.
"But then again, if you think about it like that, why bother with a tie? It's just a scrap of cloth at your neck. And what about pinstripes? Might as well make it plain black or navy brown. How about buttons? Better do away with them as well -- a zipper would be easier anyway. Or even, why bother ironing any of it? Why bother with shining your shoes everyday?" Minho guiltily scuffs the toe of one loafer against the other. Jinki smiles at him, though there's a distance, no real warmth.
"I used to think that," Jinki says thoughtfully as he places the cufflinks in Taemin's waiting hand, who matches it up with another suit. "But all the small details make the biggest difference."
Jinki's eyes flicker down to Minho's bare neck, no tie, crinkled collar, and Minho flushes. Jinki smiles at him before brushing past him and walking out.
"He sounds like a douche," Jonghyun comments from where he's sprawled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on his stomach.
"Not a douche," Minho says as he pours milk into the cereal, the only food they have left. "It's not like he even does anything -- it's like he doesn't need to."
"Sounds like an asshole," Jonghyun says cheerfully as Minho adjusts the towel around his waist. "Also, I don't want to see your ass again so could you please start wearing underwear?" Minho grins and Jonghyun groans.
"I'm serious, what would Kyuhyun think!"
"Why would he care about your eyes? He's only your assistant--" Minho's eyes widen. "You said nothing serious."
"I said nothing serious yet," Jonghyun corrects and turns off the TV, curling outwards in a stretch. "Hopefully soon."
"Oh." Minho pokes his cereal. There's silence as Jonghyun stands and pads over, hair messy and dressed in a threadbare T-shirt. Minho spies nipple.
"Are you okay with it? It's not weird between us, is it?"
Minho swallows a Cheerio whole and almost chokes. Jonghyun looks at him with worried eyes, not moving as Minho struggles against tears and breathing.
"It's not weird," Minho says when he can breathe again, thumping his own chest, and Jonghyun dangles over Minho's shoulders.
"You were a terrible lay anyway," Jonghyun says cheerfully before stealing his towel and running off to the bathroom.
"You live with your ex?" Kibum says incredulously, and Minho looks up from the small tower of post-its he's building.
"Yeah? It's not weird," Minho says calmly, and Kibum shoots him a look.
"It's weird," Kibum says. "It's weird you guys are still friends and hang out, even."
"It's not--"
"It's weird," Taemin says, coming in and carrying some silk ties. "Which one do you think? Jinki said he wanted a few for the new skyscraper shoot."
Kibum 'um's and 'ah's at the two exactly identical ties as Minho looks on.
"God, they're both so unique and different," Kibum says, fingering the one on the left that's in alternate stripes of blue. If Minho had to hazard a guess, he'd say that the one on the right's strips are about a millimetre thicker. "What do you think, Minho?"
Minho clears his throat and Taemin offers him the ties. He looks at them and points at the one on the right. Taemin gives him a winning smile.
"The Dolce and Gabbana one it is!"
"He's so judgemental," Minho slurs as he reaches for another schooner of beer and misses, punching Donghae's outstretched arm instead. Donghae looks over, sees Minho's lopsided smile, and takes the glass away. "Hey, that's mine!"
"Not anymore it isn't," he says cheerfully as he gives it to Hyukjae beside him who looks at it, a bit lost, before passing it to Hyoyeon.
"What does he say?" Sungmin asks, the only sympathetic soul in the whole building.
"It's like he doesn't even need to say anything, he can just look at you and you'd know that you're not even worth his time, like you're a speck of dirt. Not even a speck of dirt, something even more useless, like, like, like a speck of dust." Minho reaches for Sungmin's wine glass, but he pulls it away, smiling.
"No more alcohol for you."
Minho tries to pout but only ends up biting his lower lip, and he instantly tears up and makes a pathetic whimper. Donghae and Hyukjae look over from where they're entangled together, whispered conspiratorially but so close they look like they're making out, and Sungmin gives them a look. They retreat to their respective seats, Donghae next to Jessica, Hyukjae next to Hyoyeon, and pull the girls away from each other and their similarly compromising position.
"I think he started murdering me in his mind when I asked who Diane von Furstenberg was," Minho says, and Sungmin gasps.
"Are you sure you're gay?" Sungmin asks. "She's only the best fashion designer ever!"
Minho stares at Sungmin's excited eyes, sparkling in the meagre lighting, and groans.
"Are you sure you're not?" he asks, and Sungmin pouts.
"Excuse me, I just like to appreciate the finer things in life, like Diane and Valentino!"
"The red guy," Minho clarifies, and Sungmin rolls his eyes and drains his wine glass.
"I'm surprised you haven't been fired yet," Donghae says cheerfully, and Minho puts his head on the table. It's starting to hurt. "I mean, even I know not to question the existence of cufflinks in the presence of like, the most famous young fashion editor of Seoul."
"That's because you're engaged to fashion designer, honey," Jessica says, and taps Donghae on the cheek. He grins and snaps at her fingers as she squeals and buries herself behind Hyoyeon.
"You'd be sexiled if you so much wore mismatched socks," she continues from behind Hyoyeon, who pats her head.
"Mismatched socks can be cool!" Hyukjae protests, and Hyoyeon gives him a look.
"Do you want to be sexiled?" she asks, and he wilts.
"No, I meant, mismatched socks are never cool," he amends, and he receives a pat on the head as well.
Minho stares from under his fringe as Sungmin continues pouring wine into his own glass.
"Why am I friends with any of you?"
"I hear we're irresistible," they chirp simultaneously, Sungmin included, and Minho closes his eyes, smiling.
(there are meant to be more scenes here to pace it out... then i got lazy)
"You know, you'd look really good if you actually brushed your hair, got a haircut and stopped freaking slouching all the time," Taemin says breezily as he opens the glass door and glides in between their desks. Kibum raises an eyebrow.
"YSL makes rollerskates?"
"For the right price," Taemin says and winks. He glides over to Minho's desk, who is wondering how he's going to get fifty pairs of Burberry socks by Friday. Who even looks at socks on a runway?
"Jinki always looks out for the socks," Kibum sings merrily as he marks something on the calendar. "Socks and cufflinks. His motto, practically."
"That, and 'always wear nice shoes'," Taemin sings back and skates over to Kibum's desk. Taemin taps him on the shoulder and they share a significant glance before staring at Minho. He feels the prickle in his neck and looks up.
"What?"
"Stop slouching," Kibum snaps, and Minho slowly straightens. Kibum motions for him to stand, and Minho gives him an exasperated look before he complies.
"Stop slouching," Kibum repeats, and Minho straightens again, rolling his eyes and pushing his sleeves up. Taemin appreciatively gives up an up-and-down.
"You play sport? Go outdoors a lot?" Taemin asks, eyes lingering on the open V of Minho's shirt, and he nods, surprised.
"I play soccer," Minho says, and Taemin 'ah's.
"Soccer, the sport of manly men," Kibum says, sighing dreamily, and Taemin sighs too. They sloppily high-five.
"Ninety-five chance of guys you meet in the fashion industry are gay," Taemin tells him when Minho raises an eyebrow. "It's not a stereotype for nothing."
"Oh."
"Anyway, let's get you dressed up!"
"What?"
Minho shoots Kibum a scared look, who only smiles and waves a hand.
"Don't be too harsh, darling," Kibum calls out as Taemin pushes Minho through the double glass doors.
"No need to worry about me, dearest," Taemin chirps back. Minho wants to cry.
"Stop slouching!" Taemin says and slaps Minho's back. Minho winces and straightens as Taemin gives him another lookover.
"You've got a great figure, if you'd stop slouching."
Taemin disappears into the multitudes of samples they have, and Taeyeon gives them a curious look as she hurries away with a blazer and pumps.
"What size are you usually?"
"Whatever fits," Minho replies obediently, and Taemin sighs.
"Okay, well your legs are definitely model length, so no worries about that, and we can fix the waist with a little bit of fishing line and a lot of wishing. Shirts will need about a hundred more yards of cloth and fifty more buttons but other than that, we should be back in business!"
Taemin gives Minho a thumbs up when he emerges with a pair of slacks and throws them at Minho. He continues, going through the endless racks of clothes and clothes and more clothes, throwing shirts and vests and blazers and ties and pants and belts and just about everything at Minho, though Minho does protest a bit at the bright orange poncho slung over his shoulder.
"Dude," Taemin says, levelling a piercing gaze at Minho through eyeliner and mascara, and Minho wilts. "You are going to take everything I give you and you are going to love it."
Minho's silenced with a last pair of shoes slung around his neck, and Taemin's enthusiastic pushing.
"And off we go!"
When Minho enter the office again, Kibum has to do a double take.
"Well," Kibum says slowly as he looks Minho up and down.
Minho's dressed in a double breasted blazer, black and Coach, sleeves folded up to show the stripes on the insides of the sleeves with a white, deep v-necked shirt underneath, showing off Minho's tanned chest. A long necklace that Minho had weakly protested flops against his abdomen, a clock that looks antique and shiny with metal feathers surrounding it. His legs are encased in skintight, auburn jeans that stop short at the ankles, showing off more skin, before Kibum sees a hint of Adidas socks stuffed into shiny, brown laced loafers.
Kibum opens his mouth, but Taemin puts his hand up.
"I know what you're about to say, and before you say anything, Minho insisted on his lucky socks. I could not get them off him. I know, it's an atrocity."
"They're not my lucky socks--" Minho starts to say before Kibum makes hushing noises.
"You're an embarrassment to the fashion industry," Kibum says before Jinki's voice echoes through their office.
"Jiyong?"
Minho walks past them with a scared look, both of them frowning at his ankles.
"I need twenty Hermes scarves for the walkthrough this afternoon at two, and--"
Jinki stops when he looks up and sees how Minho's dressed, and Minho fidgets. His eyes are still watering from the enthusiastic eyebrow plucking. Jinki clears his throat.
"And please notify Seunghyun that I want to see his models today at five in preparation for the shoot on Friday. Please call the caterers for Saturday's dinner party and ask them what's taking them so long to finalise the menu, and make sure that there are no lilies, especially white ones, with the decorators. If Gyuri hasn't called back by six tonight, call her and confirm her RSVP for Saturday, and run through the seating arrangements with Kibum. Thank you."
Minho scribbles it all down, swallowing as he backs away and through the doorway. When he looks up a final time, Jinki's staring at his ankles, and Minho guiltily rushes through the doorway and away.
(spaaaaaaaaaace. paaaaaaaace)
It's nighttime and freezing and they're on the roof of one of the taller skyscrapers, a map of city lights laid out before them.
"Minho, I'll need you there tonight at the shoot," Jinki had said as he had exited his office on the way to some important dinner, barely sparing Minho a glance. "Roof of the Ernst building at nine PM. Thank you."
Minho had dropped his keys back into the drawer, checked his watch, and gone to find Taemin, who had shooed him off on some errands before dragging him to the building at quarter past eight.
"Why are we here so early," Minho asks as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, trying not to shiver. He straightens his back when he notices Taemin's sideways glance.
"Jinki is always half an hour early, which means on time for you means late for him," Taemin says as he tries to keep the access door wedged open. They peer over the edge, human beings barely distinguishable from the general dark grey of the ground, and Minho takes a step back to steady himself. The drop would be terrifying.
All around them, the camera and lighting crews are busying themselves, making sure everything is right and everything is prepared for when Jinki gets here. There's a small corner with a table, mirror and chair, but Taemin keeps complaining about the wind and has shooed all the models inside instead.
"Jinki," Taemin murmurs and bows as Jinki emerges from the doorway, and Minho is temporarily stunned.
Jinki, who dresses in suits almost everyday for work, is dressed in a simple white t-shirt*, overlarge so that it shows his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up slightly. He's in loose, dark blue jeans, bottoms frayed and sneakers hidden by the length, with a black baseball cap snug over his head.
1*
Minho feels overdressed in comparison, in a blazer with a v-necked top underneath, slacks and loafers on his lower half, hair preened and tugged to perfection by Taemin. Even though Jinki isn't dressed like a editor-in-chief of a major fashion magazine, he still manages to pull off the look and make it look deliberate, clean and simple -- make it fashionable.
"Good evening, Jinki," Minho greets and passes over some sheets regarding the shoot. Jinki slides him a tired smile, touching the tip of his cap, before scanning the sheets.
"Are the models ready?" Jinki asks and it takes a moment for Minho to realise Jinki is speaking to him.
"Song Joongki and Lee Jongsuk are," Minho says. "Lee Minho is in make up still, and Kim Bum will be arriving at nine o'clock."
Jinki nods and passes the papers back before disappearing back into the make up and dressing room, and only when he brushes past Minho does he realise that Jinki is dressed in a t-shirt, in this five degree Celsius weather. He must be freezing.
"Taemin?" Minho asks as Jinki talks to the photographer, looking intense and serious before the photographer gestures and says something and Jinki smiles, brightly with his teeth, and Minho's caught staring.
"Minho?" Taemin nudges Minho, eyebrow raised, and Minho shakes himself.
"Do we have any extra clothes that won't be used during the shoot? Like a jacket that might fit Jinki?"
(here minho's meant to start having ~feelings~ for onew and start caring for him, hence the jacket, and onew is surprised when minho gets a jacket like, 'oh, so you don't think i'm evil enough to let me freeze to death!' and taemin is just like, 'ooooh ok we're keeping you around.' ...or something to that extent.)
"I have a present for you!" Taemin sings as he strolls in and throws open the double glass doors. He's holding a medium-width belt made of shiny, black, what-appears-to-be snake skin.
Kibum gasps and leaps to his feet, rounds around the desk and grabs it from Taemin's hands.
"It's isn't," Kibum says as he examines it from head to toe, and Taemin smiles.
"Oh, but it is," Taemin says as he trails one finger down the length of the belt, and Kibum shivers.
"Taemin, do you ever do any work?" Minho says as Kibum presses his cheek to the belt.
"All the time!" Taemin says brightly and flounces over to Minho's desk. "You just never see it. And come on, this is a Dior belt! One of the rumoured black snake skin ones! Even you must've heard of it."
The sting is there but Minho squashes it as he adjusts the plain ring on his finger -- motto of the season was apparently "look but no touch" with some bullshit Taemin had sprouted about forbidden things and ownership and stuff -- and flicks his bangs to one side. He's been trained well, but apparently he's still growing, though Taemin gives an approving nod.
"Real snake skin," Kibum says breathlessly, and Minho makes a face.
"Snake skin?"
Taemin waves a hand. "None of your fake leather shit, god, it's a horrible thing to even consider. Ripoffs, replicas, fakes, branded or material wise, are an atrocity." He clicks his tongue on the last word, and Minho looks blankly on.
"It's a bastardisation of fashion and everything we stand and work for," Kibum says as his eyes shine, feasting on the belt. "Fashion is about expressing your true self through clothes and accessories. Using fake anything just goes against everything we stand for."
Taemin takes off his fake frames and rubs the bridge of his nose at Minho's confused face.
"It's like taking something beautiful and pure, an ideal of an idea, and then making it crude and disgusting through the materials used, or even just by not treating the idea right. You're destroying something beautiful, by your own clumsy means."
Minho thinks for a while.
"Real snake skin," he says, and Taemin grins.
"Real snakes," he says, and hisses.
"Snake skin," Minho says and Jonghyun jumps and drops his keys. He puts a hand to his chest and stays there for a few minutes, breathing, before flicking the light on.
"Well, you're not creepy at all," Jonghyun says sarcastically as he chucks his keys into the key dish and then does a double take.
Minho's dressed in slim, black jeans, tucked into lace up boots that come up halfway up his thigh. His belt is some obnoxious thing that should be overwhelming, but with the black button up tucked in, sleeves pushed up and first few buttons undone, it's muted, almost. Quiet by becoming the centre of attention, as if self conscious, and instead Jonghyun's gaze goes to the cross swinging from the chain at the hollow of Minho's throat.
"Aren't you dressed up today," Jonghyun says, conscious of his own stained chef's uniform, flecks of soup on his own trousers and splashes of oil on the hem of his shirt.
Minho looks down at himself, as if surprised, and then shrugs. "Snake skin," he repeats, and Jonghyun nods slowly.
"Snake skin," he says, and Minho grins.
"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" he says, and Jonghyun shakes his head, dropping his wallet onto the kitchen counter. "How do you feel about real snake skin?"
"As opposed to what, fake snake skin?" Minho nods, and Jonghyun sinks onto the couch next to him, the hallway light throwing some shadows onto his face. "Eh, whatever, they're both the same. One's just off a real snake and the other is fake. Why?"
Minho's quiet for a while, and then slowly leans forward so that his elbows are on his knees, and he's staring into the powered off television.
"Let me guess," Jonghyun says, and takes the remote, flicking on the TV. "Something at work about snake skin and now you're freaked out because you don't understand or you don't fit in and you want to go crying to mummy but I'm honestly a better and closer option so here I am!"
Minho rolls his eyes and lightly pushes his shoulder against Jonghyun, which he takes to mean, 'yes, you were absolutely right Jonghyun, how did you know, you must be psychic or extremely smart and handsome and wonderful and perfect!
"Taemin brought up the idea of using fake materials is like, disrespecting the idea of the product, or the beauty, or... something."
Jonghyun flicks through the channels thoughtfully before stopping at a game of basketball, the NBA symbol covered by the Korean broadcasting channel's logo. They watch the ball's rapid movement for a few minutes before half time is called, and Jonghyun puts the remote down.
"Like basketball," Jonghyun says as the Korean commentators quickly summarise the past half game and recite ten years' worth of statistics. "You have your NBA and you have your street-ball, and, like you said, street-ball has the heart of the game or whatever, and NBA is just bullshit. Just, like, a show, not even a real game about basketball. Which is what you said, at least, since I know basically nothing about basketball."
They thoughtfully watch as the game resumes and Minho considers Jonghyun's words. He remembers reading up about basketball during his free time, the rules of the biggest and most famous basketball competition in the world and all the rules that served no real purpose but for entertainment. And he remembers playing street-ball, where anything goes, where the beauty and integrity of the game really remained.
"Well, if your crisis is over," Jonghyun starts, and stands, "then I'm off to bed. Big date with Kyuhyun tomorrow!"
"It's ten o'clock," Minho says, looking at the clock. It's even surprising that Jonghyun's back already, considering how he's usually stuck in the kitchen until midnight.
"Kyuhyun wants to meet early," Jonghyun says as he moves towards his bedroom, flicking on lights on the way. "So we're eating together."
"Breakfast?"
Jonghyun pauses at the doorway to his room. "Brunch."
Minho lets his raised eyebrow do all the talking.
Jonghyun justifies himself, "Well it's not like I could get any gayer! Brunch will be nice! Brunch will be perfect. Brunch will be delicious."
(more space for pacing!)
"I've got a job in Busan," Jonghyun says as he enters the apartment, running his hands through his hair and shrugging off his chef's whites.
"Really." Minho sleepy stirs on the couch, and then bolts up when he realises Taemin would kill him if he saw him lying down, still dressed in work clothes.
There's a small stretch of silence as Jonghyun goes into his room and takes off his uniform, coming out dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, and Minho fingers his tie self consciously. It's just past midnight, which means Minho should already be in bed, since Kibum likes to call him at six, six-thirty to run through the day's schedule, but Minho fell asleep on the couch, watching TV.
"You're taking the job?" Minho asks quietly as the sound of sizzling fills the small apartment.
Jonghyun doesn't answer from the kitchen, so Minho naturally assumes he doesn't hear.
"Yeah," Jonghyun says as he sets down a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Minho, an identical one in his left hand that he sets on his lap. "I'm thinking of taking the job. It's at a new restaurant but the owner has other ones that are really famous and popular. I'd be the head chef of my own restaurant!"
Minho isn't sure what to say -- no, he knows exactly what he needs to say, what the situation calls for, but he isn't sure he can be completely sincere about it. He tries it anyway.
"Congratulations, hyung."
Jonghyun beams and eats some bacon. "It's a great opportunity and I really don't want to miss out."
"And Kyuhyun?"
Jonghyun looks up, surprised. "He'll come as my sous chef, of course. He's the one who told me to take it."
"Oh, well that's great, congrats to you both."
"Minho," Jonghyun says tenderly, so soft and kind that Minho flinches. He focuses his gaze on Jonghyun's empty plate compared to his full one, and doesn't move. "Are you going to be okay?"
"What?"
"Are you going to be okay with me going?"
Minho's lips thin, and he refuses to meet Jonghyun's eyes, glaring at the bacon. They stay frozen like this for what seems like forever; Jonghyun looking at Minho with eyes of pity, Minho looking away, angry at himself.
Until Minho throws his arms up, slouches back on the couch and smiles, eyes guarded but smile open.
"It's your life," he says breezily. "It's your choice."
There's this difference between them that's only grown since they broke up. Jonghyun, who proudly shows his heart on his sleeve, whose smile and/or frown appears a split second before he finishes his sentence, and is a shitty liar to boot. Minho, in comparison, had the best poker face in Seoul, who could lie without flinching or bursting into laughter like Jonghyun,
(jonghyun's meant to say,
"I'm worried about you, you know?"
and he knows that minho still has feelings for him, but minho is just like, 'no, no i don't,' and jonghyun knows he does but he chooses another topic and realises that oh, minho likes onew and he'll be fine without jonghyun there. so jonghyun takes the job.)
"You're in love with your ex," Kibum says flatly, and Minho doesn't even dare raise his head.
"Kim Taeyeon
(distaction tactics!)
"You know, Jinki was never interested in fashion before," Kibum says on their plane ride over to New York. Minho was determined to get some sleep, to read up on Jinki's schedule, to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible, but Kibum has other ideas.
"Really," Minho says flatly, quietly, and dares a glance over at Jinki studying a fat wad of notes.
"He actually studied information management at university," Kibum continues, flicking through High Cut. "No history in fashion -- actually only started getting interested in fashion when he started Sleek. But he was always really smart, so he picked up things really fast -- things that worked out, and ditched concepts that had no future. He's good like that."
Kibum delicately licks a finger and flicks the page, pursing his lips at the double page spread of some model with a zebra coat draped over his naked form.
"You knew him then, before Sleek?" Minho asks, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, and Kibum nods.
"We studied together at university -- I majored in fashion design, though, and he asked if I'd come on board with his magazine as a designer. But I said Taemin, who was still studying when we graduated, would be better so he asked if I could be his sub-editor. Jinki's the type to immerse himself in work and disregard everything else, though -- so I'm his PA."
Kibums hums as he flicks through the pages, pausing on an image of Choi Siwon dressed to the nines, and gives it an approving nod.
"But once you get into fashion, it's hard to get out of it," Kibum continues. "It's his life now, and once you get involved, you can understand why.
(more nyc scenes for onew the workaholic!!!)
"How did you get into this?" Minho asks when they're going over the table plans for a special dinner, and Jinki takes his glasses off.
It's rare to see him dressed so casually, in only a t-shirt and jeans, but even then he's gorgeous and the epitome of fashionable. He looks young and vulnerable, though, barefoot with his toes curling into the carpet and Minho finds him impossibly beautiful.
"You mean the magazine?" Jinki asks back, soft, and Minho blinks. He didn't expect a reply.
"Well, yeah. I heard from Kibum that you weren't interested in fashion at all -- you did your major in information management?"
Jinki traces the little boxes around each group of names for each table, his eyes a little unfocussed. "There's something in information management they teach you in your first year," Jinki says, and his voice is quiet and completely unlike his usual working voice. Minho blinks again and leans forward.
"Information isn't only what's just written down on a piece of paper," Jinki says and closes his eyes, finger still tracing the outline of the same box. "Information is anything conveyed to another person. Information isn't just the words someone say but the tone they say it in, the gaps and pauses in their speech. Information is the clothes they're wearing and what it says about them, how they stand and how they use their hands when they speak."
Jinki opens his eyes again and looks right at Minho, smiling a little, and Minho's unnerved.
"I did project work undergrad, dealt with information day in and day out, and it-- I loved it. There's something about immersing yourself in a pile of information everyday, trying to make sense of it and making sure it's organised so that other people can understand it."
Jinki's voice is ethereal, hypnotising, and Minho doesn't even care for information management -- even the name of it leaves a sour taste on his tongue -- but they way Jinki talks about it makes him want to know what Jinki feels, wants to feel what Jinki feels. Even journalism didn't give him that much.
"Fashion is the same," Jinki continues, and leans back, bracing himself on the carpet. "There is so much you can never understand, so much that comes across in a single glance. That's what fascinates me about fashion, and a fashion magazine. You're condensing a world of information into a single page, a single image. You're asking me why I started this magazine? That's why."
Jinki hummed as he held up the table plan and Minho blinked, opened his mouth to say something and then shut it.
"We'll also need to move Lee Donghae from Table Five to my table and move Emma Tait to Table Five," Jinki continues, businesslike, and Minho's frozen until he leans over his own table plan and makes the corrections.
(they're about to get together. this was meant to be a lead-up and a tribute to the original film)
"Wow," Kibum says when he walks into the hotel room and Jinki is redfaced and crying silently, with Minho shooting him uncomfortable but hopefully sympathetic looks. Kibum thinks that those looks are probably 20% pity and 80% disgust.
"Wow, this is exactly like The Devil Wears Prada," Kibum says, and then rounds on Jinki. "Oh my god are you going to betray me and sell me out? Did I have a job offer from Jessica Jung's new company and you decided to sell it out to Gina Choi? Oh my god Jinki how could you! Wait, did your wife and kids just divorce you? Oh I'm so sorry Jinki -- but did you sell me out?"
Minho blinks at him, and Jinki does too. Kibum looks at them both excitedly before Jinki collapses into giggles.
"Oh my god you-- you thought that? Oh my god Kibum, no, I didn't sell you out, I'd never do that!"
"And Taemin would be the one betrayed," Minho says, and Kibum looks at him in surprise.
"You know the movie?"
"And watched it," Jinki says as he gestures to the TV. There's an open DVD case on the coffee table. Kibum slowly steps back.
"What's going on here?"
"We were talking about the line up of models at the fashion show tomorrow," Jinki says as he tips his head back and closes his eyes. "And then this happened." He waves in the direction of the coffee table and television.
Kibum eyes the TV.
"I see."
-
THE END! Only I would write ~6700 words and then abandon it :(
(I should also say this was basically written for Jeny, the most vocal onho shipper I know ♥)
-
Lee Jinki is the editor-in-chief of Sleek, a magazine catered towards young men interested in fashion, and a perfectionist and workaholic. Starting the magazine a year after he had graduated from Seoul National University with a degree in information management, of all things, within a few years it was the fifth highest grossing fashion magazine in South Korea, right behind Vogue and Singles.
Jinki is also Minho's new boss starting tomorrow.
"I heard," Donghae says conspiratorially, leaning closer, "that basically all his personal assistants in the past three years have left their job. Not that they've been fired -- they just left." He raises an eyebrow.
"But they also say that work under Jinki for a year and you'll have any editorial position you want in the country," Hyukjae says and steals some of Donghae's beef.
"How did you even get this job," Jonghyun says, sipping his drink.
"Good looks and charm," Donghae and Hyukjae chirp and high five.
Minho walks away from their table.
"You're the new Jiyong?" a voice says as Minho steps up to the security desk. He looks up to see a man, dressed impeccably in a sweater and skinny jeans, look at him incredulously from behind the security gates.
"Um."
The security guard raises an eyebrow, and even he's dressed neatly, hair in an artistic disarray and fake frames perched on his nose. He rolls his eyes as he takes out a pass and slides it over the desk as the other man swipes his to get through.
"You really think he'll do the job?" the security guard asks, not letting go of the pass as the other man narrows his eyes and tugs.
"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" he says icily, yanks, and turns to Minho. He tries to not curl his lip but Minho can see it, and holds up his resume.
"Choi Minho, pleased to meet you."
"Kim Kibum," the man says and disregards the sheets, looking Minho up and down.
Minho's dressed in black slacks, a bit crinkled and made of some blend of cotton and polyester, a white blouse whose collar he can't get to stand straight and unshined loafers. He knows how he must look and Kibum apparently does too because he turns around as if the sight disgusts him and leads him to the lifts.
"Every Monday Jinki comes in at seven AM to drop off the newest draft of Sleek before he goes to meet a client at seven-fifteen," Kibum says as they walk into a lift, and Minho blinks before rummaging around in his briefcase to get a notepad and pen. "By the time he comes back at half past eight, he expects his coffee on his table -- Americano, dark roast, super hot -- and an outline of his day. He'll also page you and call you throughout the day so always keep your phone on you twenty-four seven."
The lift opens again at level twenty-seven, the narrow corridor bustling with activity as people hurry to and fro, carrying piles of clothing or sheets and looking harassed. Kibum leads Minho down the very centre of the path of chaos, casually leaning to on side when an article of clothing gets too close.
"I'm the first assistant so I'll mainly be in the office, taking calls, helping Jinki out with design decisions, that kind of stuff," Kibum says as he waves a hand to encompass 'that kind of stuff' as he pushes open glass doors. "You're the second assistant so you'll mainly be running errands, getting coffee, going in and out of the office, that sort of stuff."
They arrive at a completely white, quite small office that is completely symmetrical. On the desks of either side of them are white, desktop Macs with a white lamp and a white chair. Behind each desk is a door built into the wall, barely distinguishable, and Kibum points to the left desk.
"That's mine; the door behind it is the cupboard where you hang your coat and Jinki's." He points to the right. "And that desk is yours. The door is the kitchen. Can you make coffee?"
The first thought that crosses Minho's mind is, Instant? But he had worked at a cafe for a year or so during university and he vaguely remembers heating up milk and burning his fingers. So he nods, and Kibum nods back.
"Good. Jinki prefers the coffee from that independent cafe downstairs but you can make some in the kitchen if you're rushed. At all times, the phone must be answered -- you must answer it, because calls roll over to voicemail and Jinki gets very upset if that happens. One of us must be at the desk at all times, and --"
Kibum cuts himself off and looks at the phone, and there's a split second before it rings and he picks it up, flicking his fringe out of the way in the process.
"Lee Jinki's office," he says coolly. "He's not available right now. Yes. Yes, I will tell him you called. Yes." Kibum puts the phone down and mutters under his breath as he leans over his desk to type something up.
"Jiyong," a voice calls from the next door, and Minho looks at Kibum, who rolls his eyes.
"He means you," Kibum says, and Minho takes a step forward before Kibum grabs his briefcase.
"No, not this disgusting thing. Okay, now go, go!"
Minho stumbles forward, entering a much larger and spacious office with beautiful photographs of waterfalls, deserts and dams adorning the walls and a completely glass wall overlooking the skyline of Seoul. Jinki’s desk is made of glass, another desktop Mac seated on it, and a spread of magazines over to his right.
“Jiyong-“
“Minho, actually,” Minho says, and Jinki freezes for a moment before a wide smile spreads across his face, completely fake.
“Minhwa, my apologies,” Jinki says, completely cold, and Minho doesn’t correct him again.
“I understand you went to Konhuk University for journalism, correct?”
Minho nods.
“And you have no interest in fashion, correct?” Jinki looks Minho up and down as he says this, and Minho tries not to flinch when Jinki’s gaze rests on his face.
“Yes.”
“I see,” Jinki says. “And before today, you didn’t know of Sleek?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Jinki holds his hand out for Minho’s resume, and he stumbles as he walks over.
“So how did you come to apply to Sleek?” Jinki asks as he skims over the papers.
“I applied to everything I could,” Minho says softly, “before I got a call from Kim Kibum asking me to come in for an interview-“
“I see,” Jinki says and passes the resume back, still smiling blandly. Minho blinks as he takes the sheets.
“Well, then I hope you enjoy your time here,” Jinki says before looking back to his computer. Minho doesn’t move, utterly confused, before Jinki’s eyes flick over. “Thank you.”
Minho flees.
“So I said, what were you thinking, pairing Marc Jacobs with DKNY! I mean, honestly, can you imagine? Jinki would’ve thrown a fit if he saw it! So-oh god, who are you?”
Minho looks up from the crumpled paper in his hands to see a young man looking at him distastefully, reclining casually against Kibum’s desk and dressed, of course, impeccably.
“Is there a before-and-after piece I don’t know about?” the man says to Kibum, who snorts, smiling as he types something up.
“This is Choi Minho, the new Jiyong,” Kibum says as his eyes flicker over to Minho. “Minho, this is Lee Taemin, the head fashion coordinator here.”
“Pleased to meet you, I think,” Taemin says, but doesn't make a move. He then whispers to Kibum, "the new Jiyong, huh?"
"Mmhm," Kibum hums, before he adds, "I know."
"Wow, you weren't kidding."
Minho slides into his seat and resolves to ignore them for the rest of the day.
"Cufflinks," Jinki says, and Tiffany scrambles to hold up some, a pair in each hand. Jinki regards them both solemnly, pursing his lips.
"I had trouble deciding," Tiffany confesses, looking at the cufflinks as well. "They're both so different -- it could change the whole tone of the outfit, really." Minho peers and they look exactly the same -- silver and round-ish.
"If you go with the ones with the diamonds in them, they'd really spice things up," Taemin says, pointing to the pair in Tiffany's left hand. "But that could overshine the suit, which we definitely don't want. Those ones are a bit too angular for the pinstripes, though."
Minho can't help it -- he snorts. They're pieces of plastic -- well, metal and diamonds in this case. Tiny! Insignificant. Fucking Gucci -- or was it Armani? Armani made suits, so they'd make cufflinks as well, right?
He looks up from his notepad when he realises the room is completely silent and staring at him. Kibum moves his head an inch to the side, shaking his head, and Taemin looks at him with cold eyes.
"You're probably thinking that no one would notice the cufflinks, right?" Jinki says as he takes the ones without the diamonds and puts them into the pocket of the blazer Hyoyeon's holding up. She busies herself neatening the suit before hanging it up again, as Jinki takes the other cufflinks from Tiffany and holds them up to the light, admiring them. "I used to think like that." Jinki looks sideways and gives Minho an enigmatic smile.
"But then again, if you think about it like that, why bother with a tie? It's just a scrap of cloth at your neck. And what about pinstripes? Might as well make it plain black or navy brown. How about buttons? Better do away with them as well -- a zipper would be easier anyway. Or even, why bother ironing any of it? Why bother with shining your shoes everyday?" Minho guiltily scuffs the toe of one loafer against the other. Jinki smiles at him, though there's a distance, no real warmth.
"I used to think that," Jinki says thoughtfully as he places the cufflinks in Taemin's waiting hand, who matches it up with another suit. "But all the small details make the biggest difference."
Jinki's eyes flicker down to Minho's bare neck, no tie, crinkled collar, and Minho flushes. Jinki smiles at him before brushing past him and walking out.
"He sounds like a douche," Jonghyun comments from where he's sprawled on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on his stomach.
"Not a douche," Minho says as he pours milk into the cereal, the only food they have left. "It's not like he even does anything -- it's like he doesn't need to."
"Sounds like an asshole," Jonghyun says cheerfully as Minho adjusts the towel around his waist. "Also, I don't want to see your ass again so could you please start wearing underwear?" Minho grins and Jonghyun groans.
"I'm serious, what would Kyuhyun think!"
"Why would he care about your eyes? He's only your assistant--" Minho's eyes widen. "You said nothing serious."
"I said nothing serious yet," Jonghyun corrects and turns off the TV, curling outwards in a stretch. "Hopefully soon."
"Oh." Minho pokes his cereal. There's silence as Jonghyun stands and pads over, hair messy and dressed in a threadbare T-shirt. Minho spies nipple.
"Are you okay with it? It's not weird between us, is it?"
Minho swallows a Cheerio whole and almost chokes. Jonghyun looks at him with worried eyes, not moving as Minho struggles against tears and breathing.
"It's not weird," Minho says when he can breathe again, thumping his own chest, and Jonghyun dangles over Minho's shoulders.
"You were a terrible lay anyway," Jonghyun says cheerfully before stealing his towel and running off to the bathroom.
"You live with your ex?" Kibum says incredulously, and Minho looks up from the small tower of post-its he's building.
"Yeah? It's not weird," Minho says calmly, and Kibum shoots him a look.
"It's weird," Kibum says. "It's weird you guys are still friends and hang out, even."
"It's not--"
"It's weird," Taemin says, coming in and carrying some silk ties. "Which one do you think? Jinki said he wanted a few for the new skyscraper shoot."
Kibum 'um's and 'ah's at the two exactly identical ties as Minho looks on.
"God, they're both so unique and different," Kibum says, fingering the one on the left that's in alternate stripes of blue. If Minho had to hazard a guess, he'd say that the one on the right's strips are about a millimetre thicker. "What do you think, Minho?"
Minho clears his throat and Taemin offers him the ties. He looks at them and points at the one on the right. Taemin gives him a winning smile.
"The Dolce and Gabbana one it is!"
"He's so judgemental," Minho slurs as he reaches for another schooner of beer and misses, punching Donghae's outstretched arm instead. Donghae looks over, sees Minho's lopsided smile, and takes the glass away. "Hey, that's mine!"
"Not anymore it isn't," he says cheerfully as he gives it to Hyukjae beside him who looks at it, a bit lost, before passing it to Hyoyeon.
"What does he say?" Sungmin asks, the only sympathetic soul in the whole building.
"It's like he doesn't even need to say anything, he can just look at you and you'd know that you're not even worth his time, like you're a speck of dirt. Not even a speck of dirt, something even more useless, like, like, like a speck of dust." Minho reaches for Sungmin's wine glass, but he pulls it away, smiling.
"No more alcohol for you."
Minho tries to pout but only ends up biting his lower lip, and he instantly tears up and makes a pathetic whimper. Donghae and Hyukjae look over from where they're entangled together, whispered conspiratorially but so close they look like they're making out, and Sungmin gives them a look. They retreat to their respective seats, Donghae next to Jessica, Hyukjae next to Hyoyeon, and pull the girls away from each other and their similarly compromising position.
"I think he started murdering me in his mind when I asked who Diane von Furstenberg was," Minho says, and Sungmin gasps.
"Are you sure you're gay?" Sungmin asks. "She's only the best fashion designer ever!"
Minho stares at Sungmin's excited eyes, sparkling in the meagre lighting, and groans.
"Are you sure you're not?" he asks, and Sungmin pouts.
"Excuse me, I just like to appreciate the finer things in life, like Diane and Valentino!"
"The red guy," Minho clarifies, and Sungmin rolls his eyes and drains his wine glass.
"I'm surprised you haven't been fired yet," Donghae says cheerfully, and Minho puts his head on the table. It's starting to hurt. "I mean, even I know not to question the existence of cufflinks in the presence of like, the most famous young fashion editor of Seoul."
"That's because you're engaged to fashion designer, honey," Jessica says, and taps Donghae on the cheek. He grins and snaps at her fingers as she squeals and buries herself behind Hyoyeon.
"You'd be sexiled if you so much wore mismatched socks," she continues from behind Hyoyeon, who pats her head.
"Mismatched socks can be cool!" Hyukjae protests, and Hyoyeon gives him a look.
"Do you want to be sexiled?" she asks, and he wilts.
"No, I meant, mismatched socks are never cool," he amends, and he receives a pat on the head as well.
Minho stares from under his fringe as Sungmin continues pouring wine into his own glass.
"Why am I friends with any of you?"
"I hear we're irresistible," they chirp simultaneously, Sungmin included, and Minho closes his eyes, smiling.
(there are meant to be more scenes here to pace it out... then i got lazy)
"You know, you'd look really good if you actually brushed your hair, got a haircut and stopped freaking slouching all the time," Taemin says breezily as he opens the glass door and glides in between their desks. Kibum raises an eyebrow.
"YSL makes rollerskates?"
"For the right price," Taemin says and winks. He glides over to Minho's desk, who is wondering how he's going to get fifty pairs of Burberry socks by Friday. Who even looks at socks on a runway?
"Jinki always looks out for the socks," Kibum sings merrily as he marks something on the calendar. "Socks and cufflinks. His motto, practically."
"That, and 'always wear nice shoes'," Taemin sings back and skates over to Kibum's desk. Taemin taps him on the shoulder and they share a significant glance before staring at Minho. He feels the prickle in his neck and looks up.
"What?"
"Stop slouching," Kibum snaps, and Minho slowly straightens. Kibum motions for him to stand, and Minho gives him an exasperated look before he complies.
"Stop slouching," Kibum repeats, and Minho straightens again, rolling his eyes and pushing his sleeves up. Taemin appreciatively gives up an up-and-down.
"You play sport? Go outdoors a lot?" Taemin asks, eyes lingering on the open V of Minho's shirt, and he nods, surprised.
"I play soccer," Minho says, and Taemin 'ah's.
"Soccer, the sport of manly men," Kibum says, sighing dreamily, and Taemin sighs too. They sloppily high-five.
"Ninety-five chance of guys you meet in the fashion industry are gay," Taemin tells him when Minho raises an eyebrow. "It's not a stereotype for nothing."
"Oh."
"Anyway, let's get you dressed up!"
"What?"
Minho shoots Kibum a scared look, who only smiles and waves a hand.
"Don't be too harsh, darling," Kibum calls out as Taemin pushes Minho through the double glass doors.
"No need to worry about me, dearest," Taemin chirps back. Minho wants to cry.
"Stop slouching!" Taemin says and slaps Minho's back. Minho winces and straightens as Taemin gives him another lookover.
"You've got a great figure, if you'd stop slouching."
Taemin disappears into the multitudes of samples they have, and Taeyeon gives them a curious look as she hurries away with a blazer and pumps.
"What size are you usually?"
"Whatever fits," Minho replies obediently, and Taemin sighs.
"Okay, well your legs are definitely model length, so no worries about that, and we can fix the waist with a little bit of fishing line and a lot of wishing. Shirts will need about a hundred more yards of cloth and fifty more buttons but other than that, we should be back in business!"
Taemin gives Minho a thumbs up when he emerges with a pair of slacks and throws them at Minho. He continues, going through the endless racks of clothes and clothes and more clothes, throwing shirts and vests and blazers and ties and pants and belts and just about everything at Minho, though Minho does protest a bit at the bright orange poncho slung over his shoulder.
"Dude," Taemin says, levelling a piercing gaze at Minho through eyeliner and mascara, and Minho wilts. "You are going to take everything I give you and you are going to love it."
Minho's silenced with a last pair of shoes slung around his neck, and Taemin's enthusiastic pushing.
"And off we go!"
When Minho enter the office again, Kibum has to do a double take.
"Well," Kibum says slowly as he looks Minho up and down.
Minho's dressed in a double breasted blazer, black and Coach, sleeves folded up to show the stripes on the insides of the sleeves with a white, deep v-necked shirt underneath, showing off Minho's tanned chest. A long necklace that Minho had weakly protested flops against his abdomen, a clock that looks antique and shiny with metal feathers surrounding it. His legs are encased in skintight, auburn jeans that stop short at the ankles, showing off more skin, before Kibum sees a hint of Adidas socks stuffed into shiny, brown laced loafers.
Kibum opens his mouth, but Taemin puts his hand up.
"I know what you're about to say, and before you say anything, Minho insisted on his lucky socks. I could not get them off him. I know, it's an atrocity."
"They're not my lucky socks--" Minho starts to say before Kibum makes hushing noises.
"You're an embarrassment to the fashion industry," Kibum says before Jinki's voice echoes through their office.
"Jiyong?"
Minho walks past them with a scared look, both of them frowning at his ankles.
"I need twenty Hermes scarves for the walkthrough this afternoon at two, and--"
Jinki stops when he looks up and sees how Minho's dressed, and Minho fidgets. His eyes are still watering from the enthusiastic eyebrow plucking. Jinki clears his throat.
"And please notify Seunghyun that I want to see his models today at five in preparation for the shoot on Friday. Please call the caterers for Saturday's dinner party and ask them what's taking them so long to finalise the menu, and make sure that there are no lilies, especially white ones, with the decorators. If Gyuri hasn't called back by six tonight, call her and confirm her RSVP for Saturday, and run through the seating arrangements with Kibum. Thank you."
Minho scribbles it all down, swallowing as he backs away and through the doorway. When he looks up a final time, Jinki's staring at his ankles, and Minho guiltily rushes through the doorway and away.
(spaaaaaaaaaace. paaaaaaaace)
It's nighttime and freezing and they're on the roof of one of the taller skyscrapers, a map of city lights laid out before them.
"Minho, I'll need you there tonight at the shoot," Jinki had said as he had exited his office on the way to some important dinner, barely sparing Minho a glance. "Roof of the Ernst building at nine PM. Thank you."
Minho had dropped his keys back into the drawer, checked his watch, and gone to find Taemin, who had shooed him off on some errands before dragging him to the building at quarter past eight.
"Why are we here so early," Minho asks as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, trying not to shiver. He straightens his back when he notices Taemin's sideways glance.
"Jinki is always half an hour early, which means on time for you means late for him," Taemin says as he tries to keep the access door wedged open. They peer over the edge, human beings barely distinguishable from the general dark grey of the ground, and Minho takes a step back to steady himself. The drop would be terrifying.
All around them, the camera and lighting crews are busying themselves, making sure everything is right and everything is prepared for when Jinki gets here. There's a small corner with a table, mirror and chair, but Taemin keeps complaining about the wind and has shooed all the models inside instead.
"Jinki," Taemin murmurs and bows as Jinki emerges from the doorway, and Minho is temporarily stunned.
Jinki, who dresses in suits almost everyday for work, is dressed in a simple white t-shirt*, overlarge so that it shows his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up slightly. He's in loose, dark blue jeans, bottoms frayed and sneakers hidden by the length, with a black baseball cap snug over his head.
1*
Minho feels overdressed in comparison, in a blazer with a v-necked top underneath, slacks and loafers on his lower half, hair preened and tugged to perfection by Taemin. Even though Jinki isn't dressed like a editor-in-chief of a major fashion magazine, he still manages to pull off the look and make it look deliberate, clean and simple -- make it fashionable.
"Good evening, Jinki," Minho greets and passes over some sheets regarding the shoot. Jinki slides him a tired smile, touching the tip of his cap, before scanning the sheets.
"Are the models ready?" Jinki asks and it takes a moment for Minho to realise Jinki is speaking to him.
"Song Joongki and Lee Jongsuk are," Minho says. "Lee Minho is in make up still, and Kim Bum will be arriving at nine o'clock."
Jinki nods and passes the papers back before disappearing back into the make up and dressing room, and only when he brushes past Minho does he realise that Jinki is dressed in a t-shirt, in this five degree Celsius weather. He must be freezing.
"Taemin?" Minho asks as Jinki talks to the photographer, looking intense and serious before the photographer gestures and says something and Jinki smiles, brightly with his teeth, and Minho's caught staring.
"Minho?" Taemin nudges Minho, eyebrow raised, and Minho shakes himself.
"Do we have any extra clothes that won't be used during the shoot? Like a jacket that might fit Jinki?"
(here minho's meant to start having ~feelings~ for onew and start caring for him, hence the jacket, and onew is surprised when minho gets a jacket like, 'oh, so you don't think i'm evil enough to let me freeze to death!' and taemin is just like, 'ooooh ok we're keeping you around.' ...or something to that extent.)
"I have a present for you!" Taemin sings as he strolls in and throws open the double glass doors. He's holding a medium-width belt made of shiny, black, what-appears-to-be snake skin.
Kibum gasps and leaps to his feet, rounds around the desk and grabs it from Taemin's hands.
"It's isn't," Kibum says as he examines it from head to toe, and Taemin smiles.
"Oh, but it is," Taemin says as he trails one finger down the length of the belt, and Kibum shivers.
"Taemin, do you ever do any work?" Minho says as Kibum presses his cheek to the belt.
"All the time!" Taemin says brightly and flounces over to Minho's desk. "You just never see it. And come on, this is a Dior belt! One of the rumoured black snake skin ones! Even you must've heard of it."
The sting is there but Minho squashes it as he adjusts the plain ring on his finger -- motto of the season was apparently "look but no touch" with some bullshit Taemin had sprouted about forbidden things and ownership and stuff -- and flicks his bangs to one side. He's been trained well, but apparently he's still growing, though Taemin gives an approving nod.
"Real snake skin," Kibum says breathlessly, and Minho makes a face.
"Snake skin?"
Taemin waves a hand. "None of your fake leather shit, god, it's a horrible thing to even consider. Ripoffs, replicas, fakes, branded or material wise, are an atrocity." He clicks his tongue on the last word, and Minho looks blankly on.
"It's a bastardisation of fashion and everything we stand and work for," Kibum says as his eyes shine, feasting on the belt. "Fashion is about expressing your true self through clothes and accessories. Using fake anything just goes against everything we stand for."
Taemin takes off his fake frames and rubs the bridge of his nose at Minho's confused face.
"It's like taking something beautiful and pure, an ideal of an idea, and then making it crude and disgusting through the materials used, or even just by not treating the idea right. You're destroying something beautiful, by your own clumsy means."
Minho thinks for a while.
"Real snake skin," he says, and Taemin grins.
"Real snakes," he says, and hisses.
"Snake skin," Minho says and Jonghyun jumps and drops his keys. He puts a hand to his chest and stays there for a few minutes, breathing, before flicking the light on.
"Well, you're not creepy at all," Jonghyun says sarcastically as he chucks his keys into the key dish and then does a double take.
Minho's dressed in slim, black jeans, tucked into lace up boots that come up halfway up his thigh. His belt is some obnoxious thing that should be overwhelming, but with the black button up tucked in, sleeves pushed up and first few buttons undone, it's muted, almost. Quiet by becoming the centre of attention, as if self conscious, and instead Jonghyun's gaze goes to the cross swinging from the chain at the hollow of Minho's throat.
"Aren't you dressed up today," Jonghyun says, conscious of his own stained chef's uniform, flecks of soup on his own trousers and splashes of oil on the hem of his shirt.
Minho looks down at himself, as if surprised, and then shrugs. "Snake skin," he repeats, and Jonghyun nods slowly.
"Snake skin," he says, and Minho grins.
"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" he says, and Jonghyun shakes his head, dropping his wallet onto the kitchen counter. "How do you feel about real snake skin?"
"As opposed to what, fake snake skin?" Minho nods, and Jonghyun sinks onto the couch next to him, the hallway light throwing some shadows onto his face. "Eh, whatever, they're both the same. One's just off a real snake and the other is fake. Why?"
Minho's quiet for a while, and then slowly leans forward so that his elbows are on his knees, and he's staring into the powered off television.
"Let me guess," Jonghyun says, and takes the remote, flicking on the TV. "Something at work about snake skin and now you're freaked out because you don't understand or you don't fit in and you want to go crying to mummy but I'm honestly a better and closer option so here I am!"
Minho rolls his eyes and lightly pushes his shoulder against Jonghyun, which he takes to mean, 'yes, you were absolutely right Jonghyun, how did you know, you must be psychic or extremely smart and handsome and wonderful and perfect!
"Taemin brought up the idea of using fake materials is like, disrespecting the idea of the product, or the beauty, or... something."
Jonghyun flicks through the channels thoughtfully before stopping at a game of basketball, the NBA symbol covered by the Korean broadcasting channel's logo. They watch the ball's rapid movement for a few minutes before half time is called, and Jonghyun puts the remote down.
"Like basketball," Jonghyun says as the Korean commentators quickly summarise the past half game and recite ten years' worth of statistics. "You have your NBA and you have your street-ball, and, like you said, street-ball has the heart of the game or whatever, and NBA is just bullshit. Just, like, a show, not even a real game about basketball. Which is what you said, at least, since I know basically nothing about basketball."
They thoughtfully watch as the game resumes and Minho considers Jonghyun's words. He remembers reading up about basketball during his free time, the rules of the biggest and most famous basketball competition in the world and all the rules that served no real purpose but for entertainment. And he remembers playing street-ball, where anything goes, where the beauty and integrity of the game really remained.
"Well, if your crisis is over," Jonghyun starts, and stands, "then I'm off to bed. Big date with Kyuhyun tomorrow!"
"It's ten o'clock," Minho says, looking at the clock. It's even surprising that Jonghyun's back already, considering how he's usually stuck in the kitchen until midnight.
"Kyuhyun wants to meet early," Jonghyun says as he moves towards his bedroom, flicking on lights on the way. "So we're eating together."
"Breakfast?"
Jonghyun pauses at the doorway to his room. "Brunch."
Minho lets his raised eyebrow do all the talking.
Jonghyun justifies himself, "Well it's not like I could get any gayer! Brunch will be nice! Brunch will be perfect. Brunch will be delicious."
(more space for pacing!)
"I've got a job in Busan," Jonghyun says as he enters the apartment, running his hands through his hair and shrugging off his chef's whites.
"Really." Minho sleepy stirs on the couch, and then bolts up when he realises Taemin would kill him if he saw him lying down, still dressed in work clothes.
There's a small stretch of silence as Jonghyun goes into his room and takes off his uniform, coming out dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, and Minho fingers his tie self consciously. It's just past midnight, which means Minho should already be in bed, since Kibum likes to call him at six, six-thirty to run through the day's schedule, but Minho fell asleep on the couch, watching TV.
"You're taking the job?" Minho asks quietly as the sound of sizzling fills the small apartment.
Jonghyun doesn't answer from the kitchen, so Minho naturally assumes he doesn't hear.
"Yeah," Jonghyun says as he sets down a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Minho, an identical one in his left hand that he sets on his lap. "I'm thinking of taking the job. It's at a new restaurant but the owner has other ones that are really famous and popular. I'd be the head chef of my own restaurant!"
Minho isn't sure what to say -- no, he knows exactly what he needs to say, what the situation calls for, but he isn't sure he can be completely sincere about it. He tries it anyway.
"Congratulations, hyung."
Jonghyun beams and eats some bacon. "It's a great opportunity and I really don't want to miss out."
"And Kyuhyun?"
Jonghyun looks up, surprised. "He'll come as my sous chef, of course. He's the one who told me to take it."
"Oh, well that's great, congrats to you both."
"Minho," Jonghyun says tenderly, so soft and kind that Minho flinches. He focuses his gaze on Jonghyun's empty plate compared to his full one, and doesn't move. "Are you going to be okay?"
"What?"
"Are you going to be okay with me going?"
Minho's lips thin, and he refuses to meet Jonghyun's eyes, glaring at the bacon. They stay frozen like this for what seems like forever; Jonghyun looking at Minho with eyes of pity, Minho looking away, angry at himself.
Until Minho throws his arms up, slouches back on the couch and smiles, eyes guarded but smile open.
"It's your life," he says breezily. "It's your choice."
There's this difference between them that's only grown since they broke up. Jonghyun, who proudly shows his heart on his sleeve, whose smile and/or frown appears a split second before he finishes his sentence, and is a shitty liar to boot. Minho, in comparison, had the best poker face in Seoul, who could lie without flinching or bursting into laughter like Jonghyun,
(jonghyun's meant to say,
"I'm worried about you, you know?"
and he knows that minho still has feelings for him, but minho is just like, 'no, no i don't,' and jonghyun knows he does but he chooses another topic and realises that oh, minho likes onew and he'll be fine without jonghyun there. so jonghyun takes the job.)
"You're in love with your ex," Kibum says flatly, and Minho doesn't even dare raise his head.
"Kim Taeyeon
(distaction tactics!)
"You know, Jinki was never interested in fashion before," Kibum says on their plane ride over to New York. Minho was determined to get some sleep, to read up on Jinki's schedule, to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible, but Kibum has other ideas.
"Really," Minho says flatly, quietly, and dares a glance over at Jinki studying a fat wad of notes.
"He actually studied information management at university," Kibum continues, flicking through High Cut. "No history in fashion -- actually only started getting interested in fashion when he started Sleek. But he was always really smart, so he picked up things really fast -- things that worked out, and ditched concepts that had no future. He's good like that."
Kibum delicately licks a finger and flicks the page, pursing his lips at the double page spread of some model with a zebra coat draped over his naked form.
"You knew him then, before Sleek?" Minho asks, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, and Kibum nods.
"We studied together at university -- I majored in fashion design, though, and he asked if I'd come on board with his magazine as a designer. But I said Taemin, who was still studying when we graduated, would be better so he asked if I could be his sub-editor. Jinki's the type to immerse himself in work and disregard everything else, though -- so I'm his PA."
Kibums hums as he flicks through the pages, pausing on an image of Choi Siwon dressed to the nines, and gives it an approving nod.
"But once you get into fashion, it's hard to get out of it," Kibum continues. "It's his life now, and once you get involved, you can understand why.
(more nyc scenes for onew the workaholic!!!)
"How did you get into this?" Minho asks when they're going over the table plans for a special dinner, and Jinki takes his glasses off.
It's rare to see him dressed so casually, in only a t-shirt and jeans, but even then he's gorgeous and the epitome of fashionable. He looks young and vulnerable, though, barefoot with his toes curling into the carpet and Minho finds him impossibly beautiful.
"You mean the magazine?" Jinki asks back, soft, and Minho blinks. He didn't expect a reply.
"Well, yeah. I heard from Kibum that you weren't interested in fashion at all -- you did your major in information management?"
Jinki traces the little boxes around each group of names for each table, his eyes a little unfocussed. "There's something in information management they teach you in your first year," Jinki says, and his voice is quiet and completely unlike his usual working voice. Minho blinks again and leans forward.
"Information isn't only what's just written down on a piece of paper," Jinki says and closes his eyes, finger still tracing the outline of the same box. "Information is anything conveyed to another person. Information isn't just the words someone say but the tone they say it in, the gaps and pauses in their speech. Information is the clothes they're wearing and what it says about them, how they stand and how they use their hands when they speak."
Jinki opens his eyes again and looks right at Minho, smiling a little, and Minho's unnerved.
"I did project work undergrad, dealt with information day in and day out, and it-- I loved it. There's something about immersing yourself in a pile of information everyday, trying to make sense of it and making sure it's organised so that other people can understand it."
Jinki's voice is ethereal, hypnotising, and Minho doesn't even care for information management -- even the name of it leaves a sour taste on his tongue -- but they way Jinki talks about it makes him want to know what Jinki feels, wants to feel what Jinki feels. Even journalism didn't give him that much.
"Fashion is the same," Jinki continues, and leans back, bracing himself on the carpet. "There is so much you can never understand, so much that comes across in a single glance. That's what fascinates me about fashion, and a fashion magazine. You're condensing a world of information into a single page, a single image. You're asking me why I started this magazine? That's why."
Jinki hummed as he held up the table plan and Minho blinked, opened his mouth to say something and then shut it.
"We'll also need to move Lee Donghae from Table Five to my table and move Emma Tait to Table Five," Jinki continues, businesslike, and Minho's frozen until he leans over his own table plan and makes the corrections.
(they're about to get together. this was meant to be a lead-up and a tribute to the original film)
"Wow," Kibum says when he walks into the hotel room and Jinki is redfaced and crying silently, with Minho shooting him uncomfortable but hopefully sympathetic looks. Kibum thinks that those looks are probably 20% pity and 80% disgust.
"Wow, this is exactly like The Devil Wears Prada," Kibum says, and then rounds on Jinki. "Oh my god are you going to betray me and sell me out? Did I have a job offer from Jessica Jung's new company and you decided to sell it out to Gina Choi? Oh my god Jinki how could you! Wait, did your wife and kids just divorce you? Oh I'm so sorry Jinki -- but did you sell me out?"
Minho blinks at him, and Jinki does too. Kibum looks at them both excitedly before Jinki collapses into giggles.
"Oh my god you-- you thought that? Oh my god Kibum, no, I didn't sell you out, I'd never do that!"
"And Taemin would be the one betrayed," Minho says, and Kibum looks at him in surprise.
"You know the movie?"
"And watched it," Jinki says as he gestures to the TV. There's an open DVD case on the coffee table. Kibum slowly steps back.
"What's going on here?"
"We were talking about the line up of models at the fashion show tomorrow," Jinki says as he tips his head back and closes his eyes. "And then this happened." He waves in the direction of the coffee table and television.
Kibum eyes the TV.
"I see."
-
THE END! Only I would write ~6700 words and then abandon it :(