-All right, here's one more chapter for you guys ;)

Thanks for the wonderful reviews again; they really inspire me to keep writing through the writer's blocks, haha.

PS: guest reviewer, luna: no, not all of the story will happen in the elevator, lol. But a lot will. I wanted it to be a very short story of little moments of them alone and they really only have alone time in there. But there will be some more moments outside of it later, don't worry. And thanks for the review! :)

Hope you like it!-

Newt was now breathlessly waiting for another day alone with Minho.

He wasn't sure how he felt now. Half of him was anxious to be alone with Minho, because he knew that what they'd done was wrong. Sure, they really hadn't done...much...but still. It was inappropriate. The other half of him ached to be in that situation again. There was no denying that Minho had some kind of effect on Newt. It wasn't like anything he'd experienced before. He'd had crushes before, yes, and felt butterflies when a cute boy talked to him. But it wasn't like this. It wasn't flames leaping over his skin at a touch, or a foolish smile on his face at some praise. It wasn't the dizziness he felt when he was close enough to smell Minho's cologne.

Ugh, now I'm even noticing how he smells, Newt thought, groaning under his breath in despair. How had it gotten this bad? He was just a personal assistant, for God's sake! He shouldn't be thinking or noticing anything about Minho.

Huffing out a rough breath, he walked through the glass double doors and into the building of Park Industries. It was a Wednesday. The lobby was buzzing with that midweek activity that came to this business. Men in suits hurried back and forth, some carrying paperwork or briefcases. Others were talking seriously into cell phones. There were quite a few women too, all dressed in white and black as well. Their sharp gazes and crimson lips set them apart from their male coworkers.

When it came to the pressure of his job, Newt felt that it came more from the women than anyone else. There was, for example, the girl at the front desk. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun every day, and she had the most wintry, grey eyes. She always sent Newt a slight smirk as he walked by. Once, she asked him how he liked being Minho's "errand boy." There was just enough lightness in her voice to scrape by as being polite. Newt saw straight through it though. He knew she despised him. They all did. They would've given anything to be Minho Park's favorite; and Newt had taken that title without even trying.

It was both a curse and a victory to him.

There were times when Newt hated being Minho's favorite, hated everyone's whispered gossips and dark looks. But there were other times when he relished it. When he waited with heartbeat racing for one of Minho's compliments or the rare smile. It was impossible to not want that in some way. Anyone would.

On that particular day, Newt made it past the front desk without that damn blonde tossing him a snarky remark. Triumph flickered through him as he made his way back the short hall to the elevator. Minho was waiting, as he always was, just outside of the doors. He was reading something on his phone, head bent forward. When he noticed Newt approaching, he tucked his phone away and pressed the button outside the elevator. He turned toward the blonde as he drew closer.

"Newt," he greeted, nodding once. His lips tipped up at the corners.

Newt blushed in delight. He'd been called "Newt" again. "Mr. Park," he replied respectfully.

Minho smiled as the doors opened before them. "Call me Minho," he said, before he stepped into the waiting elevator.

Newt dropped his gaze bashfully as he trailed behind Minho. Turning, he pushed the button for the top floor, then backed up to stand next to the other man. He scanned the hallway briefly as the doors began to close. It looked like they'd be alone again today. What a pleasant surprise.

The doors shut with a new finality, muffling all sound from outside. The two were descended into silence.

Newt tried to settle back into his old routine: wait for the doors to open, keep himself busy with thoughts of work, listen to the elevator's low rumblings. But he couldn't. The tiny space suddenly felt like it was shrinking around him even more. He seemed closer to Minho now, too close. The space between them was heated. He took a deep breath and then let it out quietly. His gaze struggled to stay fixed on the floor instead of flicking up to Minho.

It was Minho's voice that broke the fragile quiet first. "Newt?"

"Yes?"

"...do you even realize what you do to me?"

Newt froze. His mouth opened, then closed again. Had Minho really...Did he just...WHAT did he just say? Newt glanced over at his boss and saw that Minho was watching him intently. It was a look Newt had never seen before, a look that seared his skin like a physical touch. He stuttered, "I—I don't think I know what you're, um, talking about."

"You don't?" Minho tipped his head to once side, an unexpected mischief in his face.

"N—no," Newt stammered. "I'm your...I'm your assistant, Minho. You shouldn't..." he trailed off, unsure.

Minho blinked, all play vanishing from his expression. He straightened up and looked away from Newt again. "Right," he said, a tinge of disappointment in his words. "I shouldn't have said anything. I assumed you felt the same, and obviously, you don't. I'm sorry." His lashes lowered as he stared at the floor, the faint sadness evident in his expression.

Newt knew he should leave it at that. But he didn't. "No, wait," he blurted out. Minho looked at him, puzzled, and Newt swallowed hard. "I never said that I didn't feel the same."

Minho's eyebrows lifted. "You said you were only my assistant," he reminded Newt. "I thought that meant you didn't want...more."

"You just caught me off-guard, that's all," Newt managed.

Minho smiled crookedly. "You catch me off-guard every day," he admitted.

Newt felt breathless now. He could hardly believe that they were having this conversation, right now, alone. It was his deepest-kept dreams coming true. "I do?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Of course." Minho let out a nervous chuckle, so adorably unlike him. "You can't begin to know how...charming you are."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"But why? You could have anybody you wanted. Why me?"

Minho's eyes glimmered. "You're different from them," he said, bobbing his head at the doors to signify the other employees here. "You don't ask for more from your job, you don't complain, you're kind, smart. You're the first assistant I've had that wasn't trying to steal anything from me." He smirked then, a gorgeous twist of his mouth that made Newt's pulse stutter. "Not to mention how stunning you are."

Newt's eyes slid away, his smile wide and lovestruck under the compliments. "I guess it's true that I didn't turn out like your other assistants..."

"Well, you haven't thrown yourself at me yet, so yes, I'd say you're much better than them," Minho joked. Newt laughed, and Minho's face brightened at the sound. He lowered his voice then. "Though to be honest, I don't think I'd mind if you actually did throw yourself at me."

Newt cleared his throat nervously. "Minho," he warned, the shakiness of his voice saying it all.

"I know it might not be right, to have this kind of relationship with you. But I can't help it." Minho locked eyes with Newt, holding the blonde in place with nothing more than a single glance. "You're horribly tempting, Newt. It's taking everything I have not to put you up against the wall right now and kiss you senseless."

Newt's lungs lost all ability to breathe at the words. They crawled under his skin, smooth and seductive, setting fire to his veins. He didn't know if Minho had been thinking about kissing Newt since the very beginning. But he didn't care. He thought to himself, say no. Say he's your boss, and it's wrong, and that you made a mistake. Go back to normal. But, to put it frankly, "normal" was driving him crazy.

Breathlessly, he asked, "then why don't you?"

Minho stared at him. The lightheartedness in his expression faded away, leaving behind something like want. Longing. His eyes flitted to Newt's mouth. Newt thought he heard Minho's breath hitch.

Minho stepped closer and Newt held his breath, and—

The damn doors began to slide open. They'd reached the top floor.

Minho backed away again, putting a safe distance between them. He was flustered, adjusting his tie, and with a light flush in his face. Newt mastered his own uneven breaths and warmed at the sight of a ruffled Minho Park. Perhaps he shouldn't have felt like this was another victory he'd earned today. But God, did it feel good.

He was grinning broadly the entire way back to Minho's office.