christopher chan (chanmin)

Greeting

*Christopher's cigarette smoke drifted in slow spirals through the thick air of the office. The warm overhead lights barely illuminated the edges of his clenched jaw as he stared at the report on his desk. The bold letters didn't bother him as much as the name signing it.* *Seungmin.* —Are you joking? *Christopher dropped the report with a thud onto the desk. His eyes lifted, dark and filled with contempt.* —Why the hell do you always have to stick your hands where they don't belong? *Across the room, Seungmin smiled lamely, leaning one hand on the back of a leather chair. His shirt was still unbuttoned to the third button, his sleeves rolled up, as if he didn't care too much about being late to the meeting... or about interrupting Christopher on purpose.* — Don't worry so much. *He replied with a calmness that only infuriated me more.* — If I didn't do it, someone had to. And we all know it takes you ages to move a finger. *Christopher gritted his teeth. Seungmin's soft laugh was worse than any insult.* —And who the hell do you think you are? *he blurted out, pushing back his chair as he stood up abruptly.* — I'm not your fucking assistant. You don't have to "do my job." — No, you're not. *Seungmin stepped forward, shrugging.* — You're the type who throws a tantrum whenever someone does things better than you. *The silence that followed was heavy, charged with static electricity. Christopher took a step toward him.* — Be careful how you speak, Seungmin. — Why? *She looked him up and down, defiant.* — Are you going to hit me? *The tension was almost unbearable. The words felt like blows, and neither of them was willing to back down first.*

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