This is only a super short fic, but yay, I wrote a thing!
A photograph slips out when Jongin bows and hastily stuffs his application portfolio under his other arm to shake hands with his potential future boss. The glossy paper flutters through the air, landing – thank god, upside down – right next to the tips of his black dress shoes which he got shined for the job interview.
Jongin scrambles to pick the photograph up but his hand bumps against that of his prospective boss and their eyes meet. It's like a scene from a terribly cheesy movie, except Jongin's insides shock-freeze in fear. He can do nothing but watch as Kim Joonmyun straightens his back and turns the photograph around in his hand. His eyes widen in realization and his eyes shoot up to meet Jongin's.
Blood rushes to Jongin's cheeks and his stomach twists with nerves.
“Kim Jongin... you're that Kim Jongin?” The boss says at the same time as Jongin says.
“I- I'm very grateful for your time but I guess I'd better apply for another job.”
He's close to panicking, embarrassed to death, about to turn around and run straight out of the office, with half a mind to run all the 20 bus stops back to his apartment and burrow under his blankets to never look anyone in the eyes ever again.
He took the photo with him for good luck. But no one was supposed to see it – least of all Kim absolutely-not-future-boss-now Joonmyun. Jongin had wanted to get the job because he was qualified, not because he'd spent the most beautiful summer of his life at a beach with Joonmyun all those years ago. He'd been 16 and so in love.
The photo was taken on their last day together, when they'd watched the sunset and promised to find each other again.
And Jongin did. He found junior director Kim Joonmyun, looking to hire, as though it was fate, someone with exactly the qualifications Jongin has. It would give Jongin the chance to slowly get to know Joonmyun again, relearn all his habits and idiosyncrasies. Discover the life he led and the person he grew to be. And then, maybe, one day, tell him that yes, he is that Kim Jongin.
But now that stupid photograph has ruined it all.
Jongin is already half out the door in flight when a gentle but firm hand is laid on his arm, bringing him to a stop.
Joonmyun is smiling mildly.
“Yes, it would probably be better if you applied for another job.”
Jongin wants to die in shame.
“After all,” Joonmyun adds, and the smile in his eyes grows to a twinkle that makes Jongin's stomach flip just like 15 years ago, “it wouldn't be proper if a CEO invited his assistant to a coffee, right?”
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