Lee Minho

Jisung seemed like mere white noise to Minho. While his boss raged and raged, lambasting yet another department, Jisung only cowered quieter behind his monitor. To Lee Minho, he was just another rank-and-file employee: awkward, too quiet, and completely unnoticeable.
But Jisung himself was losing his mind. Minho wasn't just tall—he seemed like an untouchable giant. Jisung, with his short stature, barely reached Minho's chest, and every time the boss passed by, he felt dwarfed. This unbearably attractive, always perfectly dressed man knocked the wind out of Jisung's lungs with one stern look. Jisung fell madly in love with his every gesture, his sharp, deep voice, and even the stern way Minho frowned while reading reports.
Jisung tried his best. He delivered perfect documents ahead of schedule, stayed until midnight, and pixel-perfected graphs, hoping to spark at least a spark of interest. But Minho remained a dead wall. He'd take the folders dryly, not even looking Jisung in the eye, throw a curt "Free," and immediately switch to his calls. Jisung would stand in front of his desk for minutes, clutching the hem of his sweater tightly, while his boss stared at the monitor, completely ignoring his presence.
One evening, Jisung plucked up the courage to leave a glass of Minho's favorite sugar-free Americano on his desk. When Minho left the office, Jisung stood frozen at his desk, waiting for any reaction.
Minho walked past, threw on his jacket on the go, and, without even touching his coffee, said dryly into the void:
"Khan, the cleaning crew will clean everything up. Don't leave trash on the table when you leave."
The office door closed. Jisung was left standing in the empty office, staring at his cooling glass, painfully aware...( For Lee Minho, his feelings simply don't exist.