Chapter Text
There's something so frustrating about men who act like puppies. It's cute for a moment, but then it all comes crumbling down in a huge dramatic mess. (Trying way too hard to please their mother’s emotional incest and begging to see your text messages after you’ve already insisted multiple times that it’s your 10 year old nephew trying to talk about his Pokémon deck.) Like asbestos in the basement walls, they're tough to get rid of and keep popping up even after you've done everything to get rid of them. A suffocating need for constant attention and approval, and you wouldn’t even know where to start on the insane possessiveness.
It's hard to explain, but your last relationship is all the evidence necessary- men who act like puppies are off limits for you, you need someone independent like yourself. Someone who won't baby you as if you're not already a full-grown adult. Someone who won't roll over in arguments, someone who appreciates time away as much as time spent together.
The water cooler releases an air bubble and it rises to the top of the jug before popping.
The fuzzy chatter and clicking of keys resumes when your boss taps his pen against the half wall of your office divider, separating you from Yoo Kihyun at your right, and Son Chaeyoung at your left. "Hmm?" Your eyebrows perk up at the vibration, wandering until they find the dark irises of your superior's. Im Changkyun. He returns this tight smile before sliding a folder of papers onto your desk, clearing his throat before tugging at the tie around his collar.
"There were some errors in the statistics of these files, I was wondering if you could run them back for me? It's nothing huge," He starts, leaning over your carpeted office chair to let a finger glide across the manilla folder. The taught pull of the skin of his throat flexes as he speaks. His cologne is stronger up this close, and it fills your head completely. It's almost dizzying, a scent so masculine. Woody and crisp citrus, it takes a few blinks of your eyes to recenter your focus on the task he's assigning you. Nodding nonchalantly, he grips the back of your chair loosely as he leans back, finishing a statement you were too busy to hear. "You alright, Y/N?" He pats on the seat back.
"Yes! Of course, Mr. Im." You smile, threading a piece of hair that escaped your ponytail behind an ear.
Fuck, that's so lame.
It was always so easy to seem professional and serious before Changkyun arrived at the office. Transferring from a different branch, he just showed up one day and the entirety of the office was painfully smitten. All cat-like in his prowess, yet his face structured wolfishly. He was broad-shouldered with a sharp nose and heavy brows. He was lean, with jet black hair always slicked, a strand or two always falling over his eyes. He was anything but a puppy. Smelling expensively, doing nothing and everything all at once. There was something so frustrating about being caught with a crush at this age. Like sure, it happens, but it doesn't have to happen at work, and it doesn’t have to be your boss. It used to be the place you could be feared at, the place you ruled with utmost professionalism. Now it feels like an elementary school playground, a ticking time bomb until somebody sings "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
Kihyun fans his face dramatically when your boss' leather shoes retreat from your desk, swiveling off in another direction. "Hot." He mouths, looking over at Chaeyoung, who is busy on the phone with a client. She rolls her eyes and brushes Kihyun off with a feathery wave of her fingers. Your hands fly to your face feeling your cheeks for any hotness. "Did I do okay?" You ask, Kihyun swapping glances between you and his monitor. His eyebrows furrow and he nods confidently, eyes nudging in the direction of Im Changkyun's office.
Your boss slips the slightest glance over his shoulder before slithering into his office. You can physically feel your cheeks set themselves aflame, throwing your fingertips to your keyboard. If they weren't hot pink before, they certainly are now.
✱
Kihyun and Chaeyoung were probably the worst people to bring furniture shopping. Busy with stuffed toys and discussing the wait until the promised Swedish Meatballs, they were absolutely no help. "I said we would go to the Cafeteria after we found me a bedframe." You sigh, "Do you guys ever fully read my text messages?"
Chaeyoung shakes her head no, and Kihyun nods enthusiastically yes. "I did read the message, but it makes so much more sense to fuel up, and then go shopping, like, what the hell? Where's your sensibility?" He argues, tapping a foot on the linoleum.
"You sound like someone’s dad, Kihyun, please." You pat at your purse, checking your cell phone for messages. "This is so weird, the realtor lady was supposed to contact me about where she was going to leave the key, like, an hour ago." You slip your phone back into your bag, blinking off doubt as you sigh. "Okay, we'll eat first I guess! My treat. But that means you really need to help me look afterwards."
Chaeyoung claps a few times with glee, hooking an arm through yours. "Let's go!!" You return a soft smile to her, and Kihyun points up at the sign with the arrows directing to each section of the store, letting him take the lead. "And don't worry too much, I'm sure she just left it under the mat or something."
✱
Moving out of your parents house and finally into your own apartment had been something on your to-do list for the past... 6, or maybe 8 years? Whenever you had your punk phase and your parents threatened to kick you out, that was around the time you realized their parenting methods shifted. There was an innocent fun that came with living with mom and dad from childhood that had dissipated. At least when you were shitting your diapers, you were still easy to coo at. Moving out soon became top priority. Finally on your own after dropping Kihyun and Chaeyoung off with a belly full of meatballs and the parts to a bedframe in your trunk, things were starting to fall into place.
It was dark by now, and the directions to your new apartment on your phone were making you giddy with excitement. A few weeks prior you had the chance to check it out during the day, and it was beautiful. The huge bay window overlooking Seoul, the window seat in the bedroom, the newly implemented granite countertops with a matching eggshell backsplash- Wow! You were kind of grown now, huh?
It was a refreshing type of excitement, like maybe the pure independence of adulthood was finally making sense to your brain, and it didn't feel like a panic anymore to grab onto youth with horror-movie fingernails and try to claw your way out of your aging body.
It was a trip and a half to carry the un-pieced bedframe up the stairs in the apartment complex, but you finally succeeded. The landing was a white, cool concrete, the type you'd seriously tear up your knees on if you fell. It reminded you of recess. It was kind of cute, but also kind of jarring as memories came flowing in as you took more and more steps to your flat number.
Reaching 306, you look at the ground, then back to the door. There's no mat, there's no key anywhere, it's just nothingness. You set your bed frame on the concrete, leaning it against the wall as you let your back hit the door with a heavy sigh. Slipping your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans, you call the number saved for the realtor. It rings a busy tone, and your heart sinks.
Something about your super practical nature should have called this, right? Being scammed, for whatever reason? Was the price really that much of a steal? You blink a few more times, tears welling in your eyes. "No, not yet." You tell yourself, standing straight and brushing away the wetness that dared to dribble from your eyes.
Dashing down the 3 flights of stairs again to the mailboxes, you make note of the box with the hatch swung wide open. 306. Peering inside, your hope deflates from your body like a punctured balloon. It's completely and utterly empty, just like you.
At your apartment door again, you try for the handle. It's stiff, rattling beneath your palms with each twist, locked from the inside out. This time, tears explode like 2 sappy waterfalls. Lacking any sense of dignity, you let your fist thump at the door a few more times until you sink to the floor, your jeans at least protecting your knees from the rough concrete. Sobs are pouring out from your lips when the door opens just a crack, light from inside shining out on your mess of sweat slicked bangs and smudged eyeliner.
"Hello?" A voice asks from inside, it's mostly confused, but the door swings open the rest of the way like that of someone with a terrible amount of confidence and trust in sopping quarter-aged people at their doorstep. "Are you okay?" The voice asks again, scouring slightly upon first examination of your lifeless body.
"Do you live here?" You ask abruptly, stifling your cries for the moment as you steady yourself to stand. His hands float around you in a kind-hearted way, as though they're ready to catch you at any given moment. Although you do seem a bit of a mess, hardly distinguishable from any vagrant- they still waver steadily on standby if assistance seemed necessary.
"I moved in today." He answers. Voice warm and comforting, and the aroma of spicy ramen wafts from inside the flat. Your flat.
"I was supposed to move in here today." You wipe at your face, a ring finger lacing the underside of each eye. "I, I have my contract, here. Signed." You dig inside your purse for a moment until your fingers brush up on a folded piece of paper. "Here it is." You sniffle, fortunate to have evidence.
He makes a thoughtful noise, like he's really trying to analyze the paper. "Yeah, I mean. I have one too, I have the same one. I wonder how this happened. This is kind of silly."
Baffled and completely taken aback, you steady yourself as he lets his hand lay on your shoulder for half a second, retreating soon after. "We were scammed. It's not silly, it's terrible. It's fucking awful!" You retort, a palm sliding back over your head and looping around your ponytail. His mouth shapes a surprised 'o'.
✱
Inside the flat is bare. Only the basic utilities are seen, and the man who answered the door, who you've come to know as Son Hyunwoo, is wearing a light blue hoodie tied around his waist and has the AC on full blast. His cooking must've heated up the apartment and gotten him too hot. He checks every few minutes back at the stovetop, sifting his chopsticks through the ramen. "Well, about 3 packs of ramen will be ready in 2 minutes." He beams, shuffling in his slippers across the wood flooring. "They were meant to be all for me, but I'm not bad at sharing."
You sit on the floor in front of the fold-out table with your head in your hands.
"It's okay. We will figure it out. Please don't cry." He says, crouching on the floor on the other side of the table. "If you don't have a place to stay, you can just stay here." The offer is incredibly kind, if the roles were reversed, you probably would have kicked this stranger out an hour ago. He was so self-sacrificing and honest, if you had asked for it, you're sure he would have given you the shirt off his back too.
But you definitely don't want that. No offense, he's just kind of sweating a lot right now, and the heat emanating off of him is way too much for this kind of weather.
It's already odd that he's made spicy ramen in the middle of Summer. You guess it's proof everyone has non-conventional cravings sometimes. But you’re in no condition to judge.
You look up at him for the first time tonight, and you mean to say: "I really don't think that's appropriate. Thank you for the offer, but I should just head to my parents'." But instead, your mouth hangs open in silence. His eyes are two of the most gentle tapioca pearls, his brown hair is ruffled in a soft and messy nest, and his eyebrows are intertwined in a gentle knot of confusion. The fabric of his white long sleeve rolled up to his elbows, and his fingers curl around the side of the table. And somehow, the words "Yes, please" fall from your lips.
Hyunwoo assures you he doesn’t need the instructions one bit when you both finish hauling the bedframe into the apartment’s conjoined living-room-kitchen area. You keep a careful eye on the stapled papers Hyunwoo has confidently discarded into the trash bin, unsure if he really just ‘had a clue’ like he let on. About 15 minutes later he was finished and pumping his arms around goofily until he noticed the watery sheen that had begun decorating your eyes. You couldn’t help it, even if he seemed like a great roommate, you had prepared yourself mentally for a very different (and much less dorm-feeling) experience.
When you told Hyunwoo you were going out for an evening walk, he asked to come with you, begged for a second until you gave him the sort of look that means ‘seriously, no’ and he promptly dropped it. Your mom wasn’t picking up her phone like usual and you decided maybe this was what being an adult was really about. Rolling with the ridiculous punches– not just the hard punches, but just the straight up fucking weird ones too.
You picked up a box of ice cream cones at a convenience store on your way back and upon Hyunwoo letting you in, (you’d have to get his key copied tomorrow) you noticed your bed was completely missing from the living arrangement. Your lips parted as a tired finger pointed to the spot it used to be, the corner of the room now adorned with only what you could assume was Hyunwoo’s twin mattress shoved against the floor molding. Double fitted sheets with thick blue and green stripes that run horizontal, a single pillow and a Teddy Bear that was obviously well-loved. “I moved it to the bedroom. I’m a heavy sleeper and,” he shrugs, pursing his lips simply unaffected. “I think you’d appreciate privacy more than me.” He smiles when a laugh leaves your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief.
“You took the bed frame apart, carried all the pieces to the one bedroom, and then rebuilt it?” You laugh again, “You really are a lifter, huh?”
Hyunwoo beams shyly, watching your hand lift your bag and fish out the box of ice cream. “What’s this?” He watches carefully, eyes lighting up from the refracting moonlight.
“It’s for us, for our journey as new roommates– And, Hyunwoo?” His eyes scan from the box up to you, his forehead creasing gently. “Thank you.”
✱
When Hyunwoo offers to walk you to work after the bus ride that Monday, something deep inside your stomach hates the idea, even denying it a few times before he admits his job at the warehouse is in the same direction.
You just think it's kind of funny that he brings it up after you add that you've never taken this particular bus ride before. Your face broils a bright red and your eyes scan the floor. "Let's just commute together. We don't have to talk on the way. Sometimes it's just nice to walk or sit next to someone you know." He suggests.
You must have forgotten that men lie, often, because somehow, with the shaggy, messy hair (with the hazelnut honey highlights and toffee clean cut against the back of his neck), you believed him. It wasn't a rather exquisite performance when he pretended to miss his stop, his hands gently covering his gaping mouth with a quiet "Oh...no…!" The reality that Hyunwoo, who was just too sweet, had lied about his commute completely, had come to full realization. You had called it from your place on the sidewalk up to his open seat window, standing a mere 10 yards from the office.
"What about your stop?"
His terrible acting ensued.
It was hard to shake your head fast enough to conceal your smile from him. It had been a while since someone had looked out for you in a way you often did for others. Something stupid and simple like taking a new bus route was scary, even if you'd force yourself to do it nonetheless… Hyunwoo by your side for the silent trip made it more… bearable.
✱
Then, you saw him. Mr. Im. He was walking from the parking lot, the higher-ups like the CEO and COO had parking spots right upfront. What was that, a Mercedes? Maybe a Benz. Whatever it was, it was an extremely black, shiny car. It chirped once, a flash of orange lights with Changkyun’s press of his key fob. Your hands folded delicately behind your back. It was almost exciting to see him, a rush of blood to the head. A little gasp here, like: ‘He looks better than yesterday, how?’ He swiveled back, hair bouncing with the turn, a finger instinctively brushing back the wispy strands. His eyes fall on you. There’s an attempt at a wave, but your thumb gets stuck on one of the straps on your tote bag. Maybe you’ve been working out harder than usual or something, because your arm throws the bag off your shoulder with faultless strength. He looks away, and then back again. Rearing himself at the automatic doors that open, and then close. Your eyes are down at your papers scattered all over the ground. Changkyun isn’t a thought right now- Yes, of course. He is hot and sexy and all of those wonderful things, but these reports were months in the making, and all handwritten on a bleedable ballpoint pen. Never would you have ever been angry with morning dew, afterall- morning dew is adorable and everything right with the world. But, not today. There’s a slight breeze and your brain slips into panic mode.
Crouching, back arched like Gollum, you are speeding around, grabbing every stray paper that dares escape your grasp. “Gotchu. And you. Don’t run away from me,” You mumble under your breath. Standing up just for a moment to stretch your back, you notice the man in the dark gray suit bent just like you just were, chasing papers. It’s Changkyun.
Just as the wind picks up, he grabs the final one, standing up straight. His eyes bounce around as he pivots in a circle, looking for you. “Oh, I’m over here! Thank you so much, Mr. Im.” You wave broadly over your head (successfully this time). His face goes from adorable and confused to stern and bloodthirsty in a matter of seconds after locking his sights on you.
“I had a meeting I was already late for. Try to be more careful with your things, please.” He’s saying as he takes wide, broad steps in your direction.
“Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry. Thank you again for the help.” You offer your hands out as he drops the stack into them, instantly pulling his phone out from his back pocket and putting it to his ear. He turns away, heading back to the building entrance. Your chest is moving at a rapid pace. You place your hand on your heart to see how fast it’s beating. Chaeyoung says something you don’t quite catch as she passes by on your left.
“What?”
She stops in her tracks and looks over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming? You have a presentation in 10 minutes. Did you forget?”
✱
2 minutes before your presentation, you are wetting and brushing your hair in the bathroom mirror. Sighing deeply, you drop your hands to your sides. The humidity destroyed it, and now it’s a complete mess of frizz. Running out of time and options, you tell yourself gracefully: Fuck it.
His cologne is the first thing you smell as you enter, at this point, it feels like a warning sign. Walking into the meeting room, Kihyun and Chaeyoung smile with small waves from the left side of the table. Of course, black slicked hair faces you as you make your way to the whiteboard, Changkyun sitting right at the head of the elongated table. It’s really quite empowering to sit at the head of the table like that, not to prove Freud right or anything, but that shape of table is phallic, and Changkyun’s seat couldn’t be a coincidence. Everything goes well, it’s no surprise, you know your material and the points that needed to be made. It’s not the best feeling having Changkyun watch you so intently for 20 minutes, but you deal and make it through without a single hiccup. It’s kind of a bummer because you had planned everything for this day out perfectly, but in the end… What's the big deal? It’s just hair. It’s alright… Yeah!
Kihyun and Chaeyoung leave to go get wasted at karaoke, and with you stuck at the office with one more report to fill out, you tell them to leave first. You say you’ll meet them there, but the truth is after the first song ends, Chaeyoung and Kihyun always get too tipsy and start their hour-long deep conversations about the government, society or pressing environmental issues. It’s nice to have deep conversations with friends, but you just want to dance and sing. And you’re a fun drunk, they’re just too serious and it kills the mood when Chaeyoung suddenly starts crying about a rare subspecies of bird that is on the brink of extinction.
The lights are all shut off besides your personal desk lamp, and you have your music playing at a comfortable volume in your headphones. It’s not demanding work, and music is perfect at this time of night, so it’s hard to not feel relaxed. It’s closing in on around 7 o’clock when you finish up, singing softly to yourself as you begin cleaning up your desk. A hand rests on your shoulder for a moment, making you turn around quick, bug-eyed. You are frozen as you stare at Changkyun. In this lighting, he is supremely beautiful. His cheekbones and nose are sculpted like that of a deity, the soft yellow glow from your lamp lights up the high points of his face. He tilts his head slightly as he pushes one of your headphones off your ear, one delicate nudge with his thumb. His voice on one side, and your music on the other. He asks if you need a ride home.
You pull your headphones off and set them on your desk behind you. “A ride?” You ask, checking if you heard him right. He nods and there’s a very slight smile that teases at his upper lip. This is easily the closest you have ever been to him. There’s that aroma again. His cologne devours the air around you, making sure it’s the only thing you can think about.
“You smell really nice.” Your eyes bulge.
“Did I just say that outloud?!” You cup your hands over your nose and mouth. Starting to apologize profusely, he stops you with the wave of his hand.
“Hey, hey. Hey. What are you talking about? I said that. About you.” He leans past you, balanced on one foot as he pushes shut a drawer you hadn't gotten the chance to close yet. “So, would you like a ride home?” You shake your head ‘yes’ in silence.
✱
The car ride is extremely pleasant to say the least. He has music on very lowly and the AC on just enough to stay at a comfortable temperature, but not loud enough to drown out the music. The leather is plush and smooth, and at a sudden stop, he puts his arm out in front of you just like in romance movies. You ask him where he transferred from and he explains he actually came from a really bad part of town. This is the most intriguing piece of information about him yet. "Are you sure you want to tell me this? Aren't you supposed to maintain a very squeaky clean reputation?"
He smiles, pressing harder on the acceleration. "Should I not trust you? I thought you seemed reliable. After all, the assignments I give you are finished in record speed." He rubs the back of his head. "Why didn't you just go out with your friends?"
Your head turns to face him, eyebrows raising. "Mr. Im. You were eavesdropping?"
Changkyun laughs hard, and rests his elbow on the center console. "First, we are alone, and outside of work hours. You can call me Changkyun. Second, no. I value my own and my employees’ privacy. Kihyun is just a very loud whiner."
You agree, and call him Changkyun once. He seems content.
Arriving at your huge apartment complex, you thank him for the ride and grab your bag from the backseat. Leaning down to wave once more, you check the driver's seat, and he's not there. "Let me walk you up." He offers, stepping up onto the curb. "Trying to be a good boss." He smiles shyly, his hands finding their way into his pockets.
"I don't even think an excellent boss would drive their employees home, but…" You shrug, pointing to the stairs. "I'm 306."
"I guess I'm better than excellent then." Changkyun gets a head start, always a step or two ahead. You're thankful because you're wearing a skirt. Maybe he did it on purpose. "You have to walk up all these, twice every day?" He asks, looking behind him for a second. You have to act like you're not out of breath, and it's a bit embarrassing.
"Yup! It's the best, just moved in." You sigh out, turning the corner at the second flight.
Changkyun reaches the landing for your floor and turns around, rocking back and forth on his heels. "So, that's why you're so strong. Being able to vault your bag like that earlier." He smiles big when your face flushes pink. It lasts for a moment before he covers his face with his hand, wiping the smile off.
"Oh, c'mon. Don't bring that up, Changkyun. I was trying to wave. You know—be a good employee." You walk side by side until you reach Room 306. He smiles at the floor, nodding in amusement. "Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, and for walking me up here." You shrug your bag off your shoulder and into your palms.
"Of course, and um- Y/N…" His eyes fall to the ground for a moment, and you watch him intently. "I just wanted to say-"
"Y/N. Welcome home." Hyunwoo swings the door wide and takes the bag from your hands, hanging it up on a rack beside him.
Changkyun's entire expression changes.
"Oh, hello." He puts a hand out for Hyunwoo, who takes it and shakes it hard, enough to shake Changkyun's whole body for a split second. "Yes, nice to meet you." He peeps out.
Hyunwoo smiles and nods, looming over your boss. "So, who are you?"
Changkyun looks a bit surprised, like maybe he assumed Hyunwoo would know about him already. "I'm Im Changkyun. I am Y/N's boss, actually."
"That's cool." He nods and beckons for you to come inside.
"Y/N, this is… your… husband?" His smile is uncomfortable, eyebrows woven in confusion. Hyunwoo and you both chuckle together.
"No, we are roommates, actually… this is Son Hyunwoo." You say, turning to face Changkyun.
"Strong grip you have, Hyunwoo. What do you do for work? Professional wrestler?" Changkyun smiles and takes a step back.
Hyunwoo shakes his head 'No'. "I'm a mover in a warehouse. Wrestling is too aggressive for me."
Changkyun and you both exchange glances with folded lips, wondering why he didn't get the joke. "Well, I'm the CEO of Ppangu Systems and Distribution." He nods his head slightly, and Hyunwoo's smile has grown weak.
"Okay, well, I'll be off!" Changkyun waves both of you off and when he's certainly still in ear-shot, Hyunwoo turns to you.
"What a dickhead."
"Hyunwoo!" You say through gritted teeth. Just as Changkyun begins to turn around, both of you scramble into the apartment and slam the door.