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His coffee is stale.
Yoo Joonghyuk stares at it, brows furrowed in consternation. His office is silent save for the quiet whirr of the air-conditioner.
He raises his gaze. Outside, through the glass walls, his whole team stops stealing glances at him and ducks their heads. Yoo Joonghyuk keeps an eye on them for a while, a mulish slant to his mouth as he looks at them.
Lee Jihye looks up, chancing a peek, then buries her head in her work the moment she makes eye contact.
Yoo Joonghyuk stands. He’s been sitting for quite some time, anyways. It’s time for a stroll around the place to check on his team’s progress on their cases. If he recalls correctly, that one investigation involving the rich heiress’ stolen necklace is on a tight deadline. They’ve tracked it down to a face, a city and a name. All they need is to do a stakeout, and retrieve it before it can be auctioned off in Seoul’s biggest underground auction.
Normally, Yoo Joonghyuk would rather roll over and die before becoming a glorified parcel tracker, but this time is an exception. The pay is good—excellent, almost. Enough to bump him from one income bracket to another for the short time span of one month, until the bills come rolling back in.
More importantly, the request came from a higher-up. Apparently, the rich heiress is his boss’ friend’s godson’s friend’s girlfriend. A very complex relationship that required him to write it down in order to understand the multifaceted interpersonal relationships that ended up with him in this position.
He opens his door. The glass swings open with a faint creak, and Yoo Joonghyuk makes a note of it. He’ll have to find some time to oil up the hinges, preferably when the stolen necklace case was over. Now, he’ll have to settle with squeaky hinges.
“I wasn’t aware my team’s work ethic was this lacklustre,” he announces. “Has anyone made progress on anything other than the stolen necklace case?”
“Low blow,” Kim Namwoon mutters. “It’s not like we aren’t trying. It’s hard to break into the cartel’s systems. Does it surprise anyone at all that they’re well-protec—ow, woman! Stop that!”
Before he finishes his sentence, the man breaks into a loud yelp, flinching from his cubicle mate.
“I told you to keep it hush hush!” Lee Jihye hisses, looking urgently at Yoo Joonghyuk then looking away just as fast, as if she could pretend the disapproving look on his face didn’t exist if she didn’t see it. “We’re not supposed to do that without clearance.”
So, they do know the bureau’s rules. Could have fooled him. Yoo Joonghyuk strides over, making both of the team’s youngest recruits jump in their seat. “If you know you’re not supposed to do it, why are you still doing it?”
“God, you sound like my mom,” Kim Namwoon says quietly. “It’s not like we won’t get clearance. I’m just doing it in advance. Clearing up my schedule. I’ve got a date tonight.”
“It is a stakeout,” Lee Jihye announces loudly. “A stakeout.”
“It’s you and me on a rooftop with nothing but the stars above our heads,” Kim Namwoon tells her. “Close enough.”
“Captain.” Lee Hyunsung taps his shoulder gently. “Do you want to get coffee?”
I want to retire, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks, but he can’t do that. Who will pay for his sister’s school fees? He’s prepared to work until he’s a foot in the grave to see her safely off to Harvard.
She switches it up. One day she wants to go to Harvard, then Columbia, then Oxford. At one point, she told him she wanted to go to Singapore for university. Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t sure how she’ll manage the tropical climate when she can’t even handle sleeping without the air-conditioner on, but he nods and makes assertive noises when she rambles about it.
He almost says yes on instinct, then his throat does something strange and closes up.
“Yes,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, sounding like he’s being strangled. “Let’s get coffee.”
-=-
The reason why he started choking on air back at the bureau stares him in the eye as he takes their order.
“One green tea latte, one iced white mocha, and one cold brew.” Lee Guwon rattles their order off, fingers rapidly typing away at the cash register. “Will that be all?”
Yoo Joonghyuk wants to tip him, but he knows Seoul doesn’t have much of a tipping culture. Still, it’s not like he can disguise giving extra money in any other way. He wants to give Lee Guwon enough for the barista to enjoy a drink, on Yoo Joonghyuk’s tab, but it’s not like he can just offer that. A tip would be so much easier.
“Do you want anything?” The words come out of his mouth before he can help himself.
At his side, Lee Hyunsung’s head swivels around like the man turned into an owl.
Lee Guwon gives him a strange look. “I’d like a seasonal frappuccino, if you really must know, but I’m not on my break.”
“Put it on my tab,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. “I owe you one.”
The barista’s fingers hesitate, lingering over the register.
Yoo Joonghyuk takes his card out. Lee Guwon must see some sort of determination in his eyes, because the barista slowly keys in another drink into the register, and rings him up. Yoo Joonghyuk quickly swipes his card before the man can think twice, and the payment goes through.
Lee Guwon hands over the bill, and Yoo Joonghyuk nods politely as he takes it.
He obediently moves to the side, allowing another customer to take his spot. Lee Hyunsung follows dumbly behind, like a confused puppy. It’s clear that his team member wants to ask something, but the man is holding himself back.
Yoo Joonghyuk motions for him to speak.
As if a dam was knocked down to release a flood of questions, Lee Hyunsung immediately bursts out. “You said you didn’t know him!”
Yoo Joonghyuk stiffens. “He said he didn’t know me.”
Lee Hyunsung raises his eyebrows. Yoo Joonghyuk tries to gather his thoughts into a coherent explanation, fishing for a way to reason out how exactly he’s acquainted with Lee Guwon, but he comes up short. How is he supposed to say that he almost killed the man out of a misunderstanding that the man was an undercover spy sent to steal intel, but Lee Guwon was simply attracted to his face?
“We had an altercation,” Yoo Joonghyuk chooses to say. “I misunderstood something. He got mad.”
“I—you need to learn how to lie better, Captain.” Lee Hyunsung blinks in an incredibly disbelieving manner. “There’s more to this story, isn’t there?”
“He followed me home,” Yoo Joonghyuk grits out. “I thought he was after my intel.”
“You attacked a civilian?!”
“He tried to stalk me,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, feeling insulted. “I came to a logical conclusion. Do you commonly find yourself being stalked?”
“Well—” Lee Hyunsung says hurriedly, stumbling over his words, “—admittedly, no, but you attacked him?”
“I didn’t attack him.” Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t want to explain further. The more he says, the deeper the hole he digs himself. Even as a participant to the whole affair, hearing himself retell the story alerts him to the fact that he is really not being painted in a good light. He is being painted in a horrendous light. “He passed out, then I tried to strip him to search for hidden weapons.”
Lee Hyunsung stares at him for a long time, then stretches an arm out behind him. He feels around blindly for something, fingers eventually closing around the back of a chair, and he carefully moves over to sink down into the seat.
He sits in the chair for a while, visibly attempting to get his bearings.
“You stripped him?” Lee Hyunsung asks, his voice high.
“No need to say it so loudly.” A voice snaps from the counter, and Yoo Joonghyuk turns to see Lee Guwon lounging at the side, a look of irritation on his face. “Your drinks.”
Yoo Joonghyuk looks the man over. “And… your drink?”
Lee Guwon pauses. “I’ll get it later,” he says in a stilted voice. “When I’m on my break. Which is at three.”
Yoo Joonghyuk instinctively checks the time on his phone. It’s two in the afternoon. An hour until the man’s break.
He looks up to make eye contact with Lee Guwon, and does his best to appear less menacing. That was one of the barista’s gripes, wasn’t it? That Yoo Joonghyuk radiated animosity from his every pore, looking unapproachable and untrustworthy and unamicable—Lee Guwon had launched into a long tirade about Yoo Joonghyuk’s every flaw before passing out, but Yoo Joonghyuk can’t remember it all.
Frankly, he should have made a list. It isn’t often that someone would look him in the eye and accuse him of being unscrupulous. As an officer dealing with the shadier side of society, upkeeping an approachable demeanour isn’t as important. As an older brother who likes to pick his little sister up from school sometimes, an approachable demeanour is critical.
“Have a good break,” Yoo Joonghyuk tries.
Lee Guwon blinks at him for a moment, then turns to go back to the register.
When Yoo Joonghyuk takes the drinks in hand and turns around, it’s to be met with the sight of Lee Hyunsung looking like he’s watching a particularly riveting show.
“Are you done?”
Lee Hyunsung smiles, his lips splitting into a grin. “No, not really.”
Yoo Joonghyuk feels the urge to dump the coffee in his team member’s lap and be done with it. “Too bad,” he says. “Show’s over.”
“I’m glad you have the wherewithal to know that was a show, Captain.” Lee Hyunsung stands, dusting his pants. “Self-awareness is an attractive trait in men.”
-=-
The stakeout goes swimmingly. Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye return triumphantly, flushed and excited with a fat jewelry case in their arms. The whole team crowds around them expectantly, and Yoo Joonghyuk even obligingly dims the lights for greater effect.
Lee Jihye slowly opens the case, and the diamonds glitter so brightly that they almost blind everyone in a five-meter vicinity.
Kim Namwoon takes a pair of shades out from his inner coat and snaps them open. He puts them on, a smirk drawing across his face as he leans in to inspect the necklace.
“There must be at least a thousand diamonds on this bad boy,” he murmurs, peering closely. “It must cost a fortune.”
“Close,” Lee Hyunsung says from over his shoulder, a similar pair of shades resting on his nose bridge. “Just above eight hundred stones, and a going price of two hundred million.”
Lee Jihye’s fingers tremble on the case. “USD?”
“That market price is from when our client bought it two years ago.” Yoo Joonghyuk has to hold a hand over his browbone, shading his eyes to avoid his vision being damaged by the glinting light refracting from the necklace. “Now, it’s probably going for three hundred million. USD. The underground auction will likely try to engorge the price.”
“Three hundred million USD,” she mutters. “I’m holding three hundred million USD in my hands.”
Lee Hyunsung carefully takes the case from her hands. Lee Jihye watches it go, still stupefied. Her fingers stretch and curl into fists; she repeats this opening and closing motion for a while, staring blankly at Lee Hyunsung’s direction.
“What? You want it?” Kim Namwoon asks her, confused by her expression. “I hate to let you down, but I don’t think our pay grade can afford that.”
“That’s three hundred million USD,” Lee Jihye says, ignoring him. “You know how many rounds of hot pot I can eat with that kind of money?”
“Call the client down,” Yoo Joonghyuk says loudly, steamrolling over both team members. “I want it back in her hands as soon as possible.”
If they somehow lose this three hundred million dollar necklace, well, Yoo Joonghyuk might turn homeless. He wants this exorbitantly expensive jewellery out of his office and back in whatever safe the client managed to scrounge up to replace the one that was smashed in by the burglar.
Across the room, Lee Jihye picks up a phone and dials their client’s number. Yoo Joonghyuk is ready to return to his office to get started on the paperwork for this case, his hand curving around the door handle as he pulls the door open—
“She says she’s busy,” Lee Jihye calls out, her brows furrowing. “She wants to know if you can deliver it to her. Or wait until she’s free at six in the evening.”
It’s currently ten in the morning. That’s a whole ten more hours before the necklace will be back in the client’s safe hands. Yoo Joonghyuk closes his eyes, breathing in deeply, then lets out a sigh.
His hand releases the door handle.
“We’ll deliver it,” he says. “Where is she?”
“The university down the street.” Lee Jihye shrugs. “Apparently, she’s a part-time lecturer there.”
“Three hundred million on her neck and she still wants to work? Could not be me,” Kim Namwoon mutters under his breath.
Yoo Joonghyuk gives him a look. He agrees with the sentiment, of course, but Kim Namwoon was stupid enough to say it out loud, so Yoo Joonghyuk is going to get him back for this. Maybe it’ll teach the man restraint. Humility. How to hold his tongue.
“Kim Namwoon, you’re with me,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls. “We’re going to deliver the necklace now.”
Kim Namwoon immediately bursts into protest. Behind him, Lee Hyunsung has placed the case in a bulletproof suitcase, keying in the passcode to lock it tightly. The streets of Seoul aren’t that dangerous, but one can never be too careful. Yoo Joonghyuk does not want the loss of this necklace on his head.
He hopes he can pretend that nothing is amiss while holding three hundred million dollars in his hand. It’s certainly not something he was trained for in the academy.
Yoo Joonghyuk grabs the suitcase, and Kim Namwoon grumbles the whole way to the exit.
-=-
The trip to the university is uneventful. They get lost for a moment, trying to figure out the difference between the buildings, but eventually muddle their way to the anthropology department. There is a small window in the door to the lecture hall, and Yoo Joonghyuk recognises the lecturer at the podium.
Their esteemed client. Her neck looks rather empty, and he wonders if she’ll wear the necklace immediately after receiving it.
“Are we just going in like that?” Kim Namwoon asks quietly. “Seems rude to intrude on a class.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand pauses over the door handle. “I wasn’t aware you had manners.”
Kim Namwoon looks ready to tussle, but someone walks by right at that opportune moment. The man stiffens, turning instead to raise his eyebrows challengingly at the passer-by.
“What?” Kim Namwoon scowls, eyes narrowing into tiny slits. “You’ve never seen people wait outside a lecture hall before?”
“I’ve never seen people dressed so formally waiting outside a lecture hall,” the droll voice replies. “You think university students dress like you do, in a long-sleeved button-down and black slacks?”
Yoo Joonghyuk hides a laugh. He has half a mind to call back to the office, telling Lee Jihye to liaise with their client’s bodyguards to hand the necklace over, when the stranger coughs in a very audible manner.
“I’m not one to ask questions,” the voice says, sounding more and more familiar, “but I think I should ask this for safety’s sake. Is that a bomb?”
There are two options in his mind. First, to ignore this stranger. Whoever it is, they’re clearly out of their mind. Yoo Joonghyuk has it on good authority—from his younger sister—that he looks like a cop. He looks exactly like a male lead from a drama that worked as a police officer, as if he simply walked out of the screen. He may be missing the coat that solidifies his identity as a police officer, but his demeanour is unmistakable. A police officer would not be caught dead with a bomb loitering outside a lecture hall. Come to think of it, a proper criminal would not be caught dead with a bomb loitering outside a lecture hall either.
Second, to confront this stranger. Apologise politely and retreat to a more inconspicuous location. Embody the morals he tries to impart to his younger sister. He really isn’t inclined to this one, but he figures he should at least try to be a role model.
Yoo Joonghyuk weighs the two options, then turns around to apologise nicely.
Upon making eye contact, he immediately swallows the apology in his throat.
“Oh my god,” Lee Guwon says. “Are you kidding me?”
“Arghej.” Yoo Joonghyuk chokes on air and looks away, coughing heavily. “I wasn’t—don’t you have work now?”
“Did you memorise my schedule?” Lee Guwon asks, sounding scandalised.
“I didn’t—” Yoo Joonghyuk looks around urgently, trying to find a response written in the air from some benevolent god; he looks at Kim Namwoon, who stares back at him with wide, useless eyes, “—I assumed. I didn’t memorise your schedule.”
Maybe Lee Guwon is a part-time barista. That must be it—the fault is on Yoo Joonghyuk for assuming the man was a full-time worker. Is Lee Guwon a university student, then? A civilian, a student…
The memory of that night rises up in Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind. An expanse of pale skin, Adam’s Apple bobbing along his neck, slender fingers and half-lidded eyes.
Yoo Joonghyuk has to physically hold himself back from retreating. The urge to run away surges unbidden inside him, and he bites the inside of his cheek to distract himself.
“… Whatever,” Lee Guwon says after a while. “If you’re here, then I guess that’s not a bomb.”
“I’m sorry,” Kim Namwoon interjects, sounding like he isn’t sorry at all. He sounds intrigued. He sounds like Yoo Joonghyuk is going to put him on paperwork duty for a week. “Do you two know each other?”
“We’re acquainted,” Yoo Joonghyuk says quickly in a stiff voice.
Lee Guwon makes a face. “Reluctantly, yes.”
A step up, Yoo Joonghyuk notes. The man has gone from refusing to acknowledge him to reluctantly admitting their recognition of each other.
“Are you a student here?”
“No.” Lee Guwon glances at the lecture hall, then looks back at Yoo Joonghyuk. Kim Namwoon tries to flatten himself into the wall. “I’m here to visit a friend. She works at the university, in the anthropology department.”
His gaze drops to the suitcase in Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand, and Yoo Joonghyuk instinctively tightens his grip on the handle.
“I suppose you’re here to deliver something,” Lee Guwon says casually. “I didn’t know cops did personal deliveries.”
Yoo Joonghyuk stays silent for a while. “We’re expanding our services.”
Behind them, Kim Namwoon hides his face in his collar to muffle his laugh.
They stand there in awkward silence for a while. Lee Guwon must be waiting for a teaching assistant in the same lecture hall as them, else he wouldn’t just stand around. They make for quite a sight, three men standing together outside the only exit of a lecture hall. Some students passing by give them a wide berth.
“Are you free after this?” Lee Guwon says abruptly.
Yoo Joonghyuk does a double-take. He turns to look at Lee Guwon, blinking in confusion.
“Well?” Lee Guwon asks, sounding a little more demanding. “Are you?”
“I’m employed,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies slowly. Employed individuals are not commonly free at all hours. Considering Lee Guwon is also employed, Yoo Joonghyuk feels like he should know this.
“He’s free from twelve to one,” Kim Namwoon says from the side. “Lunch break.”
Yoo Joonghyuk raises his eyebrows at him. Kim Namwoon gives him a stealthy thumbs up.
Lee Guwon clears his throat. “I owe you one. For the coffee. You can come by today during your lunch break and I’ll treat you to something from the café, on the house.”
“It was a gift,” Yoo Joonghyuk says immediately. “No need to return the favour.”
“I insist.” Lee Guwon gives him a considering look, and his lips curl up. It looks like he’s trying to force a smile. If Yoo Joonghyuk were a better man, he would forcefully refuse and leave Lee Guwon alone.
But the sheepish light in Lee Guwon’s eyes draws him in.
“Okay,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, surprising even himself. “I’ll head down later.”
-=-
Lee Guwon is an enigma. A conundrum. A quandary.
Yoo Joonghyuk has been helping Yoo Mia with her vocabulary lately. She’s started attempting to memorise the dictionary. It’s a slow process, but sheer determination will get her anywhere. He has faith in her ability to will something into existence.
He doesn’t have faith in his control over his expression when he runs into Lee Guwon at the park.
“I am not stalking you,” the man says, apropos of nothing. He is dressed casually in a loose white shirt and jeans, looking like he could pass for a college student burdened by examinations. A thick book is open on his lap, and it’s quite clear that Lee Guwon is enjoying a nice evening at the park.
Yoo Joonghyuk, who opened his mouth to say hello, closes his mouth. It takes him a while to formulate a response, but he valiantly struggles, and throws out an, “I know.”
He motions to himself—the black compressed tank, the wireless earphones, the phone strapped to his bicep—and says, “I was running.”
Sweat trickles down the side of his face. Yoo Joonghyuk wipes absentmindedly at it with the back of his hand, the drops of sweat catching on his wrist. When he glances at Lee Guwon, the man’s brows are furrowed. There’s a twist to his lips that reeks of annoyance.
In a bid to make small talk, Yoo Joonghyuk racks his brain for a topic.
“Do you come here often?”
Lee Guwon looks taken aback. “No,” the man says slowly. “Just… every once in a while. My shift at the café ended early today.”
Yoo Joonghyuk nods. “Nice weather today.”
“The weather forecast predicted it would be clear skies.”
“Your book looks interesting.”
“It’s a fiction novel. I’m not a fan of recommending novels to others.”
Yoo Joonghyuk makes a long, drawn-out noise, then leans over. The base of his palms digs into his thighs, the flesh right above his knees, and he’s hunched enough to be put at eye-level with a shell-shocked Lee Guwon.
“Lee Guwon,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. “Do you hate me?”
The man chokes. “I—what brought this on?”
Yoo Joonghyuk shrugs, stretching as he straightens. Lee Guwon keeps blowing hot and cold towards him. For Yoo Joonghyuk, who has never been great at understanding people, this strange behaviour from Lee Guwon is incredibly confusing.
“Hate is a strong word,” Lee Guwon says eventually, looking pained. “I don’t hate you.”
“Hm.” Yoo Joonghyuk falls into thought. It sounds like Lee Guwon could possibly dislike him.
As if reading his mind, Lee Guwon continues. “I don’t dislike you either. It’s just… hard to think fondly of you when I remember how we met.” A flush settles over the man’s cheeks.
How they—right. Right. Yoo Joonghyuk remembers that well.
He looks away, feeling a little embarrassed himself.
Upon reflection, he really didn’t need to strip the man to search for hidden weapons. But he had downed a few drinks that night, so removing Lee Guwon’s clothes seemed like the quickest option to his inebriated mind.
“Don’t let me stop you from your workout.” Lee Guwon gestures at the park trail, lips curving slightly. “I’ll just be reading here.”
Yoo Joonghyuk shifts his weight. He looks off into the distance for a while, thinking of something, then returns his gaze to Lee Guwon. The man is still sitting there, slumping slightly against the bench as he returns to his reading.
“Are you free later?” He asks out of nowhere, as if possessed.
Lee Guwon’s head snaps up.
“… Yes,” he says cautiously after a pause so long it felt like Yoo Joonghyuk could have made another lap around the park in that silence. “I’m free.”
They look at each other quietly. Yoo Joonghyuk already used the majority of the dwindling courage in his chest to ask that question, so he’s not sure he has the capacity to ask a follow-up. If he wants to follow up. Does he want to follow up?
It feels like every time they meet, it’s just a prelude to having a meal together. That somehow, in the grand vastness of space and time, if he runs into Lee Guwon, they will end up spending time together.
Lee Guwon smiles faintly, and something flutters in Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest.
“Do you want to grab dinner?” The man asks, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind grinds to a halt.
He gives a stiff nod. It’s all he can manage.
-=-
Something is up. Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t place much faith in fate and the likes of it, but he is running into Lee Guwon far too often.
Alright, maybe he isn’t running into Lee Guwon. That makes it sound like all their meetings are out of their hands. He chances upon Lee Guwon in the strangest places, like the library, the gym, the park—but he also goes out of his way to visit the barista at the café he works at.
Yoo Joonghyuk may not have originally set out to memorise Lee Guwon’s work schedule, but it just happened. The barista’s schedule somehow dug into his head and found a place to settle down.
It’s gotten to the point where when the clock hits twelve, the whole team turns to look at him in his glass office.
“Are all of you that free?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks. He should look into changing his walls from glass to plaster. Metal, even. No sense of privacy in this godforsaken office at all. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s twelve,” Kim Namwoon says eagerly. “Can you get me a croissant when you come back?”
“I am not going to the café,” Yoo Joonghyuk lies. “I am going to the restaurant across the street.”
“Fancy,” Lee Hyunsung observes. “You can take a longer lunch break if you want. We wouldn’t want to disturb you on your date.”
His what?
“Sorry,” Yoo Joonghyuk says in shock. “My what?”
“You’re going to a fancy restaurant with Guwon-ssi, aren’t you?” Lee Jihye asks. “Have fun on your date. Do you want us to stake the place out?”
“No. No,” he repeats, for emphasis. “I am leaving.”
Everyone nods at him in an incredibly unnerving way. While keeping an eye on them, Yoo Joonghyuk carefully moves towards the door and leaves in a manner that is not escaping. He strides out with grace and dignity.
Lee Guwon is idly waiting by the counter, a bagel and a drink already prepared.
“It’s on me today,” he says as a greeting, his face lighting up at the sight of Yoo Joonghyuk walking in through the doors. “Are you a fan of cream cheese?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s face twitches before he can gain control of his expression.
“I don’t mind it,” he replies. “It’s… alright.”
Lee Guwon bursts into laughter. “You make a terrible liar,” he murmurs, lifting the side flap to slip out from behind the counter. “I’ll get you jam.”
Yoo Joonghyuk takes the drink and bagel as Lee Guwon calls out for a colleague. He meanders through the café, finding an empty spot. Soft music trails through the air as the smell of coffee hangs over the place like a veil. It’s a nice atmosphere.
It is not a date, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks to himself, then pauses. Is it?
He lifts his head to watch Lee Guwon pick his way through the lunch crowd.
“Jam,” the man says smilingly. “For you.”
The café has some fancy lights that dangle from the ceiling. They have an abstract shape, a gentle glow emanating from the bulbs as they hang just high enough for Yoo Joonghyuk to reach if he stands up with one arm outstretched.
Lee Guwon’s eyes glitter under the light.
Yoo Joonghyuk feels his heart fly up to lodge itself in his throat.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Lee Guwon says, settling into the chair opposite Yoo Joonghyuk. “There’s a new show that’s streaming online. It’s the drama adaptation of one of my favourite novels, and I wanted to know if you were up for watching it together.”
“Yes,” Yoo Joonghyuk answers immediately. “When?”
Lee Guwon looks a little taken aback by his enthusiasm. “Uh, maybe this weekend? There are twelve episodes, so it’s quite long. It’ll take a whole day.”
Yoo Joonghyuk pulls out his phone. The agreement rests on his tongue, but he swipes to the calendar reminder on Friday night and pauses.
Right. The cartel. How could he have forgotten?
He looks up. “Next week? I’m not free this weekend.”
Yoo Joonghyuk hesitates. He should give an explanation, right? He’s seen the dramas that his little sister loves to watch. It’s best to clear everything up before it can spiral into some sort of misunderstanding.
“It’s a work thing,” he adds, and Lee Guwon nods understandingly.
-=-
His team has an insider in the cartel. It took a lot of effort for them to successfully insert this plant, but the intel they received has always been accurate. Yoo Joonghyuk has personally signed off on an extended holiday for Jung Heewon once the mess with the cartel is over and she can extract herself from that tenuous position.
But when they show up to the location of the deal, the warehouse is empty.
It’s practically devoid of life. Yoo Joonghyuk and his team lie in waiting for the entire weekend, struggling to contact Jung Heewon, but she’s radio silent. The cartel never shows up. The uranium deal doesn’t happen.
“We have a mole,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls into his transceiver. “Someone tipped them off.”
“Only our team knows about this plan.” Lee Hyunsung’s voice is fragmented through the static, but Yoo Joonghyuk can hear the tension in his voice. “I didn’t breathe a word.”
“I didn’t either,” Kim Namwoon says quickly.
Lee Jihye’s transceiver crackles to life. “Not me.”
Yoo Joonghyuk lets out a frustrated noise. “Jung Heewon may be compromised. We’ll debrief at the office.”
Right before the line drops, he catches the tail end of Kim Namwoon’s mutterings.
“Ugh,” the man mumbles. “Didn’t even tell anyone I was leaving for the weekend. My friends think I stayed in to play games.”
Yoo Joonghyuk almost walks into a wall.
Fuck.
Fuck.
His fingers close into fists.
-=-
“I never thought I’d be back here.” Lee Guwon laughs, looking around the living room. “You have a nice place.”
“Mm,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. Lee Guwon is over to watch that drama they spoke about. The drama adaptation of Ways of Survival, an apocalyptic novel about a regressor. The man is obsessed with it.
When Lee Guwon starts talking about that novel, this shine gets in his eyes. Yoo Joonghyuk used to be so enthralled by that expression, wanting to sit next to the man and watch him ramble on and on about that novel for hours. He wasn’t interested in Ways of Survival at all—he was interested in Lee Guwon and the way the man became so animated at the mention of that novel.
He locks the door behind him.
Lee Guwon sits on the couch, running his hand over the pleather. “I remember this sofa.”
“Mmhmm,” Yoo Joonghyuk replies.
“You can play the show on your television, right?”
Yoo Joonghyuk reaches into his coat. “Mm.”
“You’re being kind of non-verbal right now,” Lee Guwon says, and turns back.
He freezes.
“Hands in the air,” Yoo Joonghyuk bites out, his pistol pointed straight at Lee Guwon’s head. “Move and I will shoot.”
It’s almost easy. Yoo Joonghyuk moves mechanically, coming up behind Lee Guwon. He presses the barrel of his gun to the back of the man’s head as he takes his cuffs out. Yoo Joonghyuk forces Lee Guwon’s hands behind his back and snaps the handcuffs shut.
“Your name,” he demands.
Lee Guwon stares at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your name,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls. “The gig is up, civilian.”
The man’s Adam’s Apple bobs nervously. “I—I don’t know—”
“Lee Guwon.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice is hoarse. “You are a terrible liar.”
Lee Guwon looks at him for a while, throat working furiously, then he looks away. “Kim Dokja,” he mutters. “I’m Kim Dokja. From Interstellar.”
Interstellar. The biggest black market spy agency.
It suddenly hits him like a lightning bolt, electricity firing through his veins. Yoo Joonghyuk blinks rapidly, a hand shooting out to grab anything within reach to steady himself. He needs to sit down.
“So you knew?” He asks, the gears in his head turning so fast that he’s sure they’re overheating. His heart beats so loudly that it drowns out everything else; all he can hear is the rattling sound of his heartbeat in his ears. “You knew.”
This whole time, Lee Guwon—sorry, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks bitterly, it’s actually Kim Dokja—was trying to steal intel from him. Kim Dokja set it all up, all those chance meetings, all those coincidences, and he played right into it.
Yoo Joonghyuk stupidly, stupidly, fell for it.
“I was borrowing intel,” Kim Dokja protests weakly, fidgeting against his bindings. “Clearly I wasn’t very good at it.”
What a lie. The man clearly sold his team out to that cartel.
Yoo Joonghyuk feels his breath catch in his chest. He’s this close to doing something drastic to combat the jittery energy inside of him; it spins in his heart like a ball of nuclear energy, bursting at the seams.
“All those times,” he grits out through his teeth, “I kept seeing you everywhere—you were stalking me.”
Like a haunting dream, like a waking nightmare. Every corner he turned; Kim Dokja was there. A shadow he couldn’t shake.
Kim Dokja averts his gaze. The man is chewing on his lower lip, unease drawing a tight line between his brows, but Yoo Joonghyuk can’t be bothered to think about how uncomfortable the man must be feeling right now. It’s all he could think about for days, for weeks, wondering whether Lee Guwon was feeling anxious whenever they crossed paths, wondering whether he should maintain a further distance from Lee Guwon to avoid distressing him, wondering whether he should send himself back to the academy for retraining because he almost harassed a civilian.
“You lied,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls. He can’t bring himself to say more, not with how his chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. He can barely breathe—his hands are curled tightly into fists, fingernails digging so deeply into the meat of his palms that he’s confident he’s drawing blood.
He wants to step forward and grip Kim Dokja by the collar, to shake him like a wet rag and demand an explanation, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to do it.
What else did the man before him lie about? Did he lie about everything? Working at the café, having a friend who works at the university, liking Ways of Survival; does Kim Dokja actually like Yoo Joonghyuk’s cooking, or was that a lie fabricated for the alias Lee Guwon, just to get closer to him? Does Kim Dokja genuinely enjoy reading, or was that a farce put on by Lee Guwon?
Did Kim Dokja ever like him, or was that a throwaway line written down in Lee Guwon’s brief?
This must be what betrayal feels like, he thinks distantly. A knife twisting in an open wound, the sting radiating throughout his entire body, an ache that refuses to leave. He inhales, and his chest hurts with the movement.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Kim Dokja mutters under his breath. His gaze is pinned somewhere on Yoo Joonghyuk’s messy floor, tension taut in his shoulders. His jaw is clenched. “I didn’t even—I stopped trying to honeytrap you halfway into the mission because it didn’t work. You made that off-hand comment without me trying anything at all.”
Oh, so it’s on him? Yoo Joonghyuk breathes in sharply, steadying himself before he takes a step forward. “You lied,” he repeats, sounding like a broken record. “You—”
He stops abruptly.
“Honeytrap?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks in a quiet voice.
Kim Dokja suddenly pales. “It didn’t work,” he says hurriedly, struggling against his restraints in another impassioned attempt to free himself. “It didn’t work, you know it didn’t because I’m so bad at seducing anyone—I gave up, Yoo Joonghyuk, I gave up on the honeytrap!”
Yoo Joonghyuk stares blankly at him.
Kim Dokja said it didn’t work. That he was bad at seducing anyone. That he gave up.
Then what did that make him, Yoo Joonghyuk, the man who fell for it?
He opens his mouth. Words escape him, but Yoo Joonghyuk fights to find his tongue again. He has to say something. He has to—
“I thought,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs, slightly breathless, and his eyes are wet with something he can’t place, “I thought it was fate.”
Kim Dokja stares blankly at him, lips slightly parted from shock.
Yoo Joonghyuk takes a faltering step back. It would have hurt less, he reasons to himself, if Kim Dokja hadn’t been a honeytrap. If Kim Dokja didn’t go into this mission with the intent to seduce him, then Yoo Joonghyuk could write it off as poor judgment. That maybe despite the lies, their feelings were true. That somewhere deep inside Kim Dokja’s heart, there was a sliver of affection towards him.
But if Lee Guwon had been a honeytrap disguise, then… then…
“I never believed in higher powers,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. His voice is soft, but the room is so silent that a pin’s drop would be deafening. “But for a single, foolish moment, I thought what we had was fate.”
He turns. Kim Dokja can find his way out of the restraints himself.
Yoo Joonghyuk can’t stay in this room for a second longer.
-=-
Weeks pass. The office is deadly silent. No one brings up Lee Guwon’s name—the mere mention of coffee has become taboo. The whole team has switched to drinking tea.
Today, a liaison from a different department is coming over to brief the team on a new lead. The cartel case is still chugging along, Jung Heewon passing through as much information as she can, but the higher-ups have apparently found someone else to plant into the group.
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t know how they’re finding all these people willing to put their lives on the line, but he isn’t complaining. The more undercover agents they have, the better.
He straightens his tie, taking a long drink of the Earl Grey that Lee Hyunsung forced on him, and readies himself to welcome the temporary member of the team.
As he strides out of his office, the noisy sounds of a commotion come within hearing range.
“You’re not allowed in,” Lee Jihye says aggressively. “I don’t care who you think you are. You’re lucky I’m not beating you up right now.”
“She’s right,” Kim Namwoon bites out, just as belligerently. “The door is right there. I won’t show you the exit.”
From his position, Yoo Joonghyuk can see Lee Hyunsung with his arms folded as he stands in front of the entrance, looking like the winner of International Most Menacing Bouncer 2021.
Lee Jihye raises her voice. “I don’t care! I don’t care. Turn around and leave, right now!”
“What’s the commotion?” Yoo Joonghyuk strides over, slightly curious. “Move aside.”
The three of them immediately move into formation, blocking the entrance from his sight.
“A cockroach,” Kim Namwoon hisses. “At the door.”
Yoo Joonghyuk gives them an unimpressed look and motions for them to move. The three of them share a glance, before slowly, reluctantly, moving aside.
The sight of the face before him feels like someone just electrocuted him.
“Hi,” Kim Dokja says, a weak smile on his face. “I switched sides.”
Yoo Joonghyuk turns around. “Show the cockroach the exit.”
Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye quickly scramble back into position. They both give Kim Dokja disdainful looks, and Lee Jihye even huffs. “You heard him. Leave.”
“I can’t. I’m the liaison,” Kim Dokja says helplessly. “The undercover agent.”
“We’ll ask for a personnel change.” Kim Namwoon tells him. “Irreconcilable differences.”
Kim Dokja lets out a sigh. “Let’s keep this professional. I’ll be in and out.”
While they argue, Yoo Joonghyuk leans against a wall, carefully observing them. Kim Dokja’s attention is fully captured by his two annoying team members, so Yoo Joonghyuk can stare at the man for as long as he wants.
It looks like time has not treated Kim Dokja well. The bags under his eyes are deeper, and his skin has gotten paler. If Yoo Joonghyuk squints, it almost looks like the man has lost weight.
Some part of him feels vindicated. Bitter satisfaction curls in his chest at the sight of Kim Dokja looking like shit—it means Kim Dokja couldn’t put the pieces back together, the same way Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t suffer alone. Streets away, Kim Dokja was hurting just as much as he was.
He glances at Lee Hyunsung. The man catches his gaze, and makes an unwilling face. Yoo Joonghyuk tilts his head at the trio still squabbling at the entrance, and Lee Hyunsung sighs.
“Alright, break it up,” he says, stepping in. “The higher-ups will have our heads if we actually try to block him off.”
“Tch,” Kim Namwoon growls, and Yoo Joonghyuk almost double-takes. Is the man picking up on his tics? He’s never heard Kim Namwoon say something like that. “Fine. But we’re hazing him.”
“It’s not really hazing if you tell me to my face,” Kim Dokja says mildly, and Kim Namwoon points the middle finger at him.
“You’re on paperwork duty,” Lee Jihye hisses. “I’m pulling rank.”
“Rank?” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs to himself, amusement in his voice.
Hearing his comment, Lee Jihye coughs and turns around to face him. “I’m not the newbie anymore,” she says insistently. “It’s him.”
Well, she’s not wrong. The newbie in question tries to make eye contact with Yoo Joonghyuk, but he looks away.
Yoo Joonghyuk goes back into his office and very studiously does his work without glancing up at all.
When the lunch break hits, Lee Hyunsung is right outside his door, as if to escort Yoo Joonghyuk to the exit. Yoo Joonghyuk gives him a funny look, and Lee Hyunsung proceeds to do just that—the man shadows Yoo Joonghyuk tightly until they reach the exit, before pulling the door open and beckoning for Yoo Joonghyuk to leave.
“You’re all overreacting,” Yoo Joonghyuk says quietly.
The glint in Lee Hyunsung’s eyes hardens. “He broke your heart, Captain.”
Yoo Joonghyuk wants to make a face at that statement. What kind of assertion is that? That’s too far an exaggeration. Kim Dokja just left a metaphorical dagger in his heart. He didn’t break it.
“That’s extreme,” he mutters under his breath, and takes his leave.
-=-
When he returns, the office is mostly empty.
Kim Dokja sits at his cubicle, obediently handling paperwork. Yoo Joonghyuk lets his gaze fall on the man for a heartbeat, just to feed the hungering curiosity in his stomach, then turns away.
He enters his room, preparing to sink into his sleek chair with excellent lumbar support, and almost trips over the wheels.
There’s a steaming cup of coffee sitting on his desk.
Yoo Joonghyuk glances outside. Kim Dokja’s head is still down, focused on the paperwork. Yoo Joonghyuk leans over to pick the cup up, and raises his eyebrows at the words scribbled on the side.
Sorry :(
It’s written in an almost illegible font. Yoo Joonghyuk pities him a little—writing on a cup is always hard. The angle is strange and unnatural, and it’s difficult to write nicely on a medium as flimsy as a paper cup.
He takes a sip.
Yoo Joonghyuk hates it. It tastes exactly like he remembers. How did Kim Dokja manage to make such good coffee with their terrible coffee machine that hasn’t been used in weeks? He wasn’t even aware they still had coffee capsules lying around.
He stands there, slowly sipping at his coffee until the cup is half-full.
The office is still empty.
Yoo Joonghyuk sighs, and sets the cup down. There’s nothing to do but to bite the bullet and head out.
He pulls the door open and walks over to Kim Dokja’s cubicle.
“Your handwriting is terrible,” he says as a starter.
Kim Dokja jumps in his seat. He looks up with wide, startled eyes that make Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart do flips in his chest. The man drops his gaze to his messy desk, fumbling around for something, then carefully raises his eyes to look at Yoo Joonghyuk.
“You never said anything about my handwriting back then,” he murmurs carefully, as if testing the waters. “You said you thought the notes I wrote for you on the cups were cute.”
“We were in the honeymoon period,” Yoo Joonghyuk says flatly.
Kim Dokja makes a strangled noise.
Seeing his reaction, Yoo Joonghyuk decides to change the topic. “You look like shit,” he tells the man unforgivingly.
Kim Dokja doesn’t react for a moment. He just stares quietly at Yoo Joonghyuk, his chest rising and falling as he breathes, then he shrugs. “Yeah, well,” he says, as if that explains anything. “You look like shit too.”
Silence falls over them. The air-conditioner whirs in the background, the fan spinning as it blows cold air into the room. Yoo Joonghyuk idly wonders if the coffee on his table is getting cold.
He waits. What he’s waiting for, he doesn’t know. But Yoo Joonghyuk stands there, right next to Kim Dokja’s new cubicle, and just waits.
“I loved you,” the man says suddenly. “I never lied about that.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s stomach twists.
Kim Dokja looks up at him. His eyelashes are as long as ever, sweeping over his skin as he blinks. “I never got to say it, so I’ll say it now. Yoo Joonghyuk, I genuinely loved you.”
Yoo Joonghyuk rolls his shoulders. Has Kim Dokja’s gaze always been this intense? His throat works as he thinks of a reply. He wants to say something cutting, something bitter that bites into Kim Dokja’s very core, but at the same time, he’s tired. He’s tired of having this sinking feeling in his gut every time he thinks of coffee. He’s tired of feeling a metal taste in his mouth every time he goes to the park. Even the paycheck he got from that rich heiress client sits uncomfortably in his bank account.
“I know,” he says hoarsely. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t look this pathetic right now.”
Kim Dokja blinks, then bursts into shocked laughter.
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” the man says in a tentative voice, the sound of hope so soft that Yoo Joonghyuk almost misses it. “Are you free later?”
Yoo Joonghyuk smiles. “My work ends at six.”