Work Text:
The rain had been falling for hours, steady against the tall windows of Yulim Firm, washing the city in streaks of silver. Past midnight, the building was deserted, all except the conference room on the twelfth floor, where light still peaked out from beneath the door.
Inside, Hyo Min sat with her laptop open, a stack of legal briefs beside her. Her shoulders were tense, her lips pressed together in concentration as she scrolled through precedent cases. She was exhausted, but her stubbornness was stronger. Across the table, Seok Hoon leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on her far longer than necessary. He told himself he was supervising. That he was reviewing strategy. That he was doing what any senior partner would do for a junior associate. But it was a lie, and he knew it.
The truth was dangerous. The truth was that every time her hand brushed across the paper, every time she sighed in quiet frustration, something happened to him. Her little actions were big for him. He hated how much space she occupied in his thoughts. He hated how the walls of his self-control cracked whenever she was near.
“You should go home.” His voice finally cut through the silence, sharp in its restraint.
Hyo Min looked up, her eyes tired but still lit with that spark he both admired and feared. “I could say that same about you.’’
His jaw clenched. “I can manage.”
‘’So can I.’’ she retorted.
She leaned back, stretching her arms above her head, and he caught himself staring at the curve of her neck, at the way exhaustion softened her expression. She noticed his silence and tilted her head.
“Why are you always like this?” she asked softly.
“Like what?” His tone came out harsher than he intended.
“So determined to control everything.” Her gaze was steady, piercing in its quiet challenge.
He should have laughed it off, thrown back one of his usual cool retorts. But something inside him snapped.
“I’m not controlling…anything. I can’t.” he said, voice low.
The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Hyo Min’s breath caught. Her eyes staring into his without breaking. After few beats, Seok Hoon stood up abruptly and moved towards the window.
Behind him, her voice broke the silence. “What can’t you control? …what do you wish to control?’’
He turned slowly, his gaze locking with hers. The weight in his eyes made her pulse skip.
“Myself.” he said.
The room was too quiet, the rain outside suddenly deafening. For a long moment, neither of them moved. His chest rose and fell unevenly, her fingers trembled against the edge of the table, and the unspoken words thickened between them like smoke.
The silence pressed heavily between them, but Hyo Min was the first to look away. Her eyes flicked back to the laptop screen, though her fingers remained frozen above the keyboard. Her mind, however, was anything but still. She knew what he was talking about, what he was implying. They had been playing this game of cat and mouse for days now. Hiding their true words under pretense and other statements. Acting like nothing affected them when every fiber of their being was charged with each other’s presence.
She forced a breath, steadying herself, but before she could gather the courage to speak, her phone buzzed against the table. The screen lit up with a name.
“Jin Ho?” Hyo Min murmured to herself.
Why is he calling so late?
But before her hand could reach towards her phone his sharp voice came. ‘’Don’t answer him.’’
Hyo Min blinked, caught off guard.
The way Seok Hoon’s jaw flexed betrayed the storm beneath his calm exterior. He crossed the space between them in two deliberate steps, his shadow falling over her as he glanced down at the glowing screen. His hand twitched, as if fighting the impulse to snatch the device away.
“Why is he calling you at this hour?” His voice was quiet, dangerously controlled.
“Maybe because we’re working the same case?” she shot back, lifting her chin in defiance. “Not everyone keeps their questions for daylight.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes. He leaned closer, bracing a hand on the table beside her, trapping her without touching. The air between them turned electric.
“Don’t answer,” he murmured.
Her lips parted, shock flashing across her face. “Excuse me?” He’s just a colleague asking for something related to the case.
“I said don’t answer.” The words were steady but carried an edge that made her pulse race. “If he needs something, he can wait until morning.”
The phone stopped buzzing, leaving only the thrum of the rain outside. Her heart pounded in the sudden silence.
“You don’t get to decide that.” she whispered, though her voice faltered at the heat in his gaze.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, his face inches from hers now. “Then explain it to me. Why does it bother me so much? Why does the idea of you answering another man’s call at this hour bothers me so much hyo min?” His breath caught, the mask of composure slipping for the briefest moment.
Her throat tightened. She should have pushed him away, should have broken the tension with some sharp remark. But the intensity in his eyes pinned her to the spot, burning through every defense she had.
“Attorney Yoon…” Her voice trembled, softer than she intended.
For a moment, it felt as though the world held its breath, the storm outside, the empty building, both waiting for one of them to break first.
Hyo Min gathered her courage and shoved her chair back, the scrape of wood against the floor cutting through the thick silence. She stood, clutching her phone, her pulse hammering in her ears.
“This is insane,” she muttered, more to herself than him. “You don’t get to police my calls. We’re colleagues, nothing more.”
She made for the door, but Seok Hoon’s hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist before she could take a second step. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm and unyielding.
Her breath hitched. She turned, meeting the storm raging in his eyes.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he said, his voice low, hoarse with restraint slipping through his fingers.
“Attorney…” she started, but the look on his face stole her words.
He stepped closer, closing the gap between them, his hold on her wrist anchoring her in place. His other hand lifted halfway before hesitating, trembling as though fighting against himself. Finally, with a shuddering exhale, he let it fall against the wall behind her, caging her in.
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” His words spilled out, unpolished and raw. “Every time I tell myself to keep my distance, every time I try to be rational, you…”
Her lips parted, but no sound came. Then it clicked on her. His behavior all this week was different because of Ji Ho. Because of what happened at the courthouse a few days back. She hadn’t realized it at the time, too caught up in an offhand joke from a Ji Ho, her laughter slipping free in the echoing hallway. But what stayed with her wasn’t the joke, it was the way Seok Hoon had looked at her afterward. She remembered it in flashes; the sharp set of his jaw, the way his eyes flicked over the distance between her and the other man as though measuring every inch of it, claiming it silently.
He hadn’t said anything then, hadn’t interrupted, but she could still feel the tension radiating from where he stood, the air taut with something unspoken and fierce. Now when it replayed in her mind, she realized. He was jealous, and that knowledge left a strange warmth blooming in her chest, a mix of disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
“Do you understand how unbearable it is,” he pressed on, his voice breaking in places, “to see you smile at someone else? To hear another man’s name on your lips when I…” He cut himself short, his chest heaving.
Hyo Min’s heart slammed against her ribs. The heat in his gaze burning through all logics her mind was coming up with.
“You what?” she whispered.
His grip on her wrist tightened just slightly, enough to betray the depth of his turmoil. His face hovered dangerously close, breath mingling with hers.
“When I want it to be mine,” he confessed, voice breaking like glass. “Your time. Your attention. Every look, every word should be mine.”
The raw possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes flicked to his mouth before she caught herself, and that flicker, that tiny betrayal was enough to unravel him further.
For a moment, the air between them screamed with the weight of everything unsaid. His forehead almost touched hers, his restraint fraying with every passing second.
And then.
The sharp buzz of her phone vibrated against her palm again. Ji Ho.
Seok Hoon’s jaw locked, his breath ragged. He reached down, fingers curling over the phone, pressing it into her hand with a force that made her flinch. His voice was rough, almost a growl.
“Answer it,” he dared, eyes boring into hers. “Look me in the eye and answer him.”
Hyo Min froze, torn between defiance and the overwhelming pull of the man before her.
Hyo Min’s fingers trembled around the phone. The name pulsed on the screen, vibrating against her skin like a demand she couldn’t ignore. But the weight of Seok Hoon’s eyes; dark, unrelenting, desperate, rooted her to the spot.
“Answer it,” he repeated, his voice rough, daring.
Her throat tightened. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
His silence was deafening. His chest rose and fell hard, his hand still gripping her wrist as if letting go meant losing something irreversible.
“It’s a call,” she pressed, her voice breaking. “He’s a colleague. Just a colleague. And yet you…” She shook her head, breathing unsteadily. “You act like I owe you every piece of me. Why? Why do you get to decide?”
Something snapped in his eyes, a crack running through the composure he’d built his entire life on.
“Because you already do,” he ground out, the words torn from somewhere raw and unguarded.
Her breath hitched. “What?”
He stepped closer, closing the last shred of distance, his hand leaving the wall to press flat against the table behind her, trapping her completely. His forehead nearly touched hers now, his voice low and trembling with the weight of his confession.
“Every look. Every word. Every damned second, I spend near you…” He broke off, jaw tight, eyes burning. “You own me, Hyo Min. And it drives me insane to think I don’t own you back.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears. The sheer intensity in his gaze stole the ground from beneath her. For a moment, she forgot to breathe, caught between fear of his rawness and the undeniable pull in her chest.
“You can’t say things like that,” she whispered, though her voice faltered, betraying the shiver that ran through her.
“Why not?” His voice cracked, almost pleading now. “Why should I keep pretending? You want honesty, don’t you? Then listen. I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else. I can’t stand that I’m supposed to watch you, protect you, guide you, and then… let someone else have what I…”
He stopped, choking on the word, his restraint snapping thread by thread.
Her hand lifted before she could stop herself, brushing lightly against his sleeve. That single touch undid him.
His forehead fell against hers, eyes squeezing shut, his breath ragged. “You make me lose myself, Hyo Min. And I don’t know how to want you quietly anymore.”
The phone finally stilled in her hand, the call ending. The silence it left behind felt deafening, pressing them closer, holding them suspended on the edge of something irreversible.
Her lips parted, words trembling on the tip of her tongue. A confession. A refusal. She didn’t even know which.
But before she could speak, his grip loosened, his hand falling away from her wrist as if burned. He took a step back, chest heaving, eyes wide with the horror of his own admission.
The distance was sudden, brutal.
“We shouldn’t…” His voice cracked, barely audible. “I shouldn’t…”
But the look in his eyes betrayed him; possession, yearning, a hunger he couldn’t disguise anymore.
‘’We already are doing it.’ Hyo min mumbled before her lips found his. And Seok Hoon felt alive after weeks.
- THE END -