⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ ashlin 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

DAY ONE

"AND THIS WILL BE YOUR LIVING QUARTERS. DO YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS?"

You stare up at the man, baffled. The stranger who was waiting for you in your living room when you drunkenly stumbled home could not look any less bothered if he tried. He had been seated in the secondhand armchair you bought off Facebook Marketplace, and he looked way too expensive to have his ass touching something you kept telling yourself had no business being resold to you. He was dressed head to toe in black—all impressively the same exact shade of black, a feat you had yet to master—looking like he had stepped right off a runway and into your dingy apartment, which was probably the only reason you hadn't immediately screamed.

His eyes flicked over to you lazily as your door slammed shut behind you and you tripped over your heels, catching yourself on the corner of your kitchen island before realizing you weren't alone. He had one leg crossed over the other and one hand shoved into your last bag of ghost pepper chips as he stared at you like you were intruding on his space. Then, he withdrew his hand, shoved his pepper dusted fingers into his mouth, sucked briefly, wiped his fingers onto your armchair, then snapped. Your bag of chips promptly disappeared and he stood up. It wasn't even his presence or the chips disappearing without an explanation. It was his height that startled you back to your senses.

You weren't short by any means, but the man towered over you anyway, and you came to the sobering realization that being trapped in a space with a man that size would lead to very horrible things. Well, you were correct. Because before you could even finish inhaling to let out the loudest scream you were capable of, he was in front of you, huge hand clamping over your mouth and squeezing your cheeks together. What you were sure was a Guinness World Record-worthy scream became a pathetic squeak.

The sound, infuriatingly, made the man smirk, your eyes coming down to the small mole right above his lip. He raised a single eyebrow at you before stating your full government name. "That you?"

Your wide eyes must have answered the question for you because he didn't wait for verbal confirmation.

"Lovely." And then somehow, you were here. Wherever the fuck here is. Maybe you blacked out on the way. Maybe you're too drunk to remember how you got here. Either way, here is where you are now.

"Do I have any questions?" you shriek, stomping a foot. Your heel clacks against the pretentious black marble flooring, and you have half a mind to kick them off and throw both at the man's head. "You not only kidnapped me, but you kidnapped me while in my clubbing clothes, bro."

You look down at yourself, disheveled from a night out trying desperately to be sober enough to wrangle other, drunker friends to stay together. Your dress is no longer hugging you in places it was at the beginning of the night, your knees are scraped from where you ate shit trying to chase a friend down the street, and you're sure your hair is trying its best to become a suitable bird's nest.

"Jasmine threw up on me tonight," you inform him, mouth twisting in disgust at the small darkened spot on the edge of your dress where the birthday girl had missed the toilet by a mere inch. "You couldn't have let me change first?"

You startle when he snaps and you feel silk against your skin. You look down to find yourself in a black pajama set, perfectly fitted to you, the bottoms falling just shy of the floor and the sleeves just long enough to make sweater paws if you want them but short enough that they aren't a hindrance.

"Ew," you mutter. "I didn't even shower."

"Luckily for you, you have an en suite," he points out, nodding at the door across the massive bedroom.

"I don't have toiletries."

"You'll find it appropriately stocked."

"But what about my skincare?"

"Again. Appropriately stocked."

"You don't even know my skin concerns."

"Oily on the chin and T-zone, dry everywhere else. Terrible hormonal acne during your period or when you're stressed," he recites like he studied this information. Your mouth pops open in either awe or humiliation—you're not even sure. "You struggle with water intake throughout the day so you'll find a litany of moisturizing products in there. Also, maybe you should start using retinoids." His eyes go to your forehead. "You crinkle your eyebrows a lot. You'll get fine lines soon."

You gasp, slapping a hand over your forehead. "You asshole."

"I'm the asshole giving you all the skincare you could possibly ever want."

"You're the asshole kidnapping me!" you scream the last two words, finally losing your patience.

You thought your best bet would be finding a way to escape wherever you are once the man left you alone, but the mere mention of fine lines kicks you into fight or flight. You swing your tiny shoulder purse at his stomach as hard as you can, satisfied when you hear a soft oof from his lips. You shove past him, your new bunny slippers slowing you down considerably as you stumble down the pristine hallway. You only get to the corner before you slam into what feels like a wall, eating shit for the second time tonight.

"Ugh," you grunt as your ass meets the floor and you're laid out flat on your back. "Ow." You groan, hand coming to your ass while the other attempts to prop you up. You open your eyes to find the stranger crouching down in front of you, amused at your weak attempt at freedom. You glower at him as you massage your butt. "I hate you."

"And you're only going to hate me more," he mutters. The words give you pause. "You have free reign in my home." He stands now, tucking his large hands into the pockets of his slacks. "You can try to run but you'll find you can't. So you might as well get comfortable, and when you've finally come to terms with your circumstances… we'll talk."

Without another word, he disappears right before your very eyes.

DAY FOUR

For three days, you tried everything you could to escape.

You found your phone in your purse and tried calling your friends. They answered and you could talk, but as soon as you tried to tell them you'd been kidnapped, your mouth would suddenly be incapable of moving—like your lips had been glued shut. Terrifyingly enough, on your third call, you walked to the vanity in your room and found your mouth just gone any time you tried to say anything that had to do with the stranger and his house of horrors.

The most horrific thing being that it has no windows or exits. Every single door you've found and tried in this laughably huge house has led to a bedroom, a study, a library, a home theater, a gym, or a space that made no sense to you—one with nothing but racks and racks of clothes and shoes from what looked like every, single period of time in history, ever. Another stuffed to the brim with huge stacks of papers that reached the ceiling. Another with A/C blasting hard, presumably to keep the furniture completely crafted from ice inside rock solid.

The house made no sense, but in that way, it made perfect sense that it belonged to the weirdo that kidnapped you. Now, it's day four, you know the house like the back of your hand, and all your phone calls are spent pretending like you're fine while Stella tells you about her piece of shit boyfriend and begs you not to tell Marisol so she won't hate him any more than she already does. Please. If you're going to tell Marisol anything, it's going to be about your piece of shit kidnapper.

But beyond calling for help and finding an escape, you find that you're fresh out of ideas to find your way out. And sensing that, the stranger appears at your bedroom door first thing when you wake up, a small smirk on those pink lips as he leans against the doorframe, long, lean and dressed in a different variation of the same, black outfit. This time, with a winter coat that comes down to his ankles dramatically.

"Good morning. Kind of."

You scoff, pulling your eye mask back down over your eyes. "It's the middle of summer, you psycho."

"Had some business in Australia."

You freeze for a moment before shoving up one side of your eye mask and peeking at him. "Australia."

He nods. "Yup. Heard of it? Odd place with huge spiders and opposite seasons. Quite cold there right now." He pushes himself off the frame and walks to the foot of your massive California king-sized bed, where he sheds his coat and carelessly throws it on the bench.

You'll give it to him. You've been living like a queen while here. You hate to admit that if he had simply asked nicely, you probably would love to live here with him despite knowing nothing about him—you're not known for your logical or sound thinking. You simply survive the day, and surviving here would be nice. But the sheer audacity of forcing you to be here without your consent drives you to unprecedented levels of stubbornness. Levels of stubbornness that convince you it would be much better living in your tiny, sad apartment in your seedy neighborhood than here, in this mansion, with products that have your skin glowing like it never has before.

When you don't respond to his rhetorical question, he asks something more serious. "Are you ready to have a proper conversation now?"

You blow a raspberry and laugh, making a show of pulling your mask back down and snuggling deeper into your 1,000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

"Perfect, I am too," he says sarcastically, the duvet ripped off you violently within the same breath. You shriek at the sudden cold. The psycho keeps his house freezing at all times, which means when you're not looking for the emergency exit, you're either always buried under several blankets or in the sauna down the hall. You hear the snap of his fingers and your eye mask disappears.

You gasp. "What is wrong with you?"

"Everything here is mine," he reminds you. "Or have you gotten so comfortable, you've forgotten you've been kidnapped?" He snorts at the word like it's a ridiculous thought even though that's literally what he did. He seats himself on the edge of your bed, crossing his legs and holding his hand out. As soon as he does, your bag of ghost pepper chips materialize in it.

"Hey!" you lean over to grab them, unperturbed by the way things just appear and disappear at his whim. He quickly holds them out of your reach, his expression bored as your face stops just shy of his. You glare at him. "Those are mine."

Though his expression doesn't change, his dark eyes suddenly flash a bright, angry red, and you struggle to refrain from flinching.

"Hm," he hums, smirking as you slowly lean away and he brings the bag back down to his lap. He smugly throws a chip into his mouth, crunching slowly before swallowing. Your eyes come down to the insane Adam's apple of his bobbing at the motion. You purse your lips and look back up. "It doesn't surprise me that those heinous parents of yours never taught you how to share."

The words pull all the fight and anger out of you immediately. Your shoulders deflate and you look at him with wide eyes. "My… what? You knew my parents?"

The man nods once. "Unfortunately. Really vile duo, weren't they?"

It's an understatement. Your parents should've never had a child to begin with, but your mother thought doing so would keep your father interested—a fact she never failed to remind you of. She never wanted you, never wanted to be a mother, never wanted someone to raise. All she ever wanted was to keep your father's attention, and you did, for a few years at least. Then, you turned four, and his fascination with being a parent waned, and the two of them deemed you old enough to fend for yourself while they carried on with their lives like they never even had you. You were left at home for hours at a time, teaching yourself to make cheese sandwiches with the microwave, and self-soothing with the TV when it would get dark and you were scared to be alone.

When they were home, you were a pseudo-maid, cleaning up after your mother and bringing your father beer after beer as he demanded them. You knew the brands and how to use a bottle opener before you even knew how to read. Sometimes, you caught yourself enjoying the time they were away more than when they were back, but then the sun would set, and you wouldn't be scared anymore or crying yourself to sleep, and you'd decide it was better than having to be alone.

It wasn't until they hadn't returned for almost a week, leaving you near-starved and dehydrated, that you finally went to the neighbor for help. You were in the foster system the next day, and you never saw your parents ever again. You've been without them far longer than you were ever with them, and still, their fingerprints are all over your life: your stunted education, your desperate need to be around your friends, your avoidance of an empty apartment, apparently this guy. Really, his house of horrors was a reminder of how much you despised being left to your own devices. Maybe that's why you were constantly on the phone even if it meant you couldn't ask for help.

"Um… how?" you ask, dumbfounded.

"They called to me one night," the stranger confides in you between bites of your own chips. Even as he talks with a full mouth, he manages to look just as regal. "Begged for a better life—all the money they could dream of in a land far from where they were, away from everything and everyone they've ever known."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's talking about you.

"They didn't have anything to offer in exchange," he tells you, not bothering to explain why they would be asking him for anything at all. "They wanted to sell their souls, but what the fuck am I supposed to do with something so… ugly…?"

The word comes out of his mouth with a sneer, and you nod like you understand. You kind of do. Everything about the man is very pretty, down to his nail beds and his shined shoes. What would he need from two deadbeats like your parents?

Wait. Their souls?

"So they offered me something more pure," he says, the bag of chips disappearing once more. He plunges his thumb into his mouth to suck the ghost pepper dust off, and you find yourself a little entranced as it pops back out and he does the same with his index finger. You sigh as you turn toward your nightstand and pluck a tissue from the box and hand it to him. He frowns. "Uh, thanks."

"And what was that?" you ask as he wipes his saliva off on the tissue instead of whatever furniture is available to him (in this case, your 1,000-thread-count sheets).

"Their daughter."

You were expecting it. You hadn't been sure what to make of all this; half of you was convinced you were still blackout drunk, passed out somewhere in a bathroom stall while Jasmine puked her guts out. Maybe you were having a very elaborate dream. Or nightmare. But hearing him speak now, you believe it. You wouldn't put those two idiots above summoning some kind of demon to get them out of their gambling debts and make them rich—allow them a life among the elite. And you wouldn't put it past them to trade you for it.

You were expecting it. But still, it feels like another knife through your heart when he confirms it.

"I'm not a fucking monster, though," he says, snorting. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"But… I'm here…"

He nods. "I told them they can't just sell their child to the Devil. So—"

"The Devil?!"

"—I settled on servitude. I would just enslave them at the end of their contract for the rest of eternity."

You balk at him—the Devil. The Devil likes black oxfords and ghost pepper chips.

"But then…" he sighs, inconvenienced. "They died."

"They're dead," you repeat, the words coming out more like a statement than the question you meant for them to be. You find that you don't feel anything about that. You never even got a chance to love your parents. It doesn't feel like you've lost anything. You were always alone; still, the confirmation that you truly are now is odd.

"Mhm," he confirms, the tissue disappearing into thin air as he leans back on his hands. "Can you believe I made those two rich beyond their wildest dreams and they somehow still got into trouble with loan sharks?" His head lolls to the side to look at you. "Unlike you, they were actually kidnapped." He shrugs before adding an important detail. "And murdered."

"Oh," you breathe.

"Yes. Oh. But I still needed to collect payment. And unfortunately…"

He lets you connect the dots on your own. "I'm their only next of kin."

"Precisely," he nods once. "You've inherited their debt."

"So… you're… enslaving me?"

He looks at you with disgust. "What? No. I said I'm not a fucking monster."

"But you kidnapped me."

"I did not."

"You did."

"Let's not get into the semantics of it all," he says, waving a hand dismissively as his eyebrow twitches with irritation. "I am not enslaving you. I am here to offer you a contract."

"A contract."

"A contract." A piece of paper—sheer and made up of glittery red particles—materializes between the two of you, hundreds of lines of red print appearing one by one before you as he speaks. "You may serve your parents' sentence—"

"Enslavement."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Yes, enslavement—though I am giving you a choice!"

"Wow, what a gentleman."

"Or," he raises his voice slightly to get you back on track, "you can make your own contract." He nods at the piece of paper. You frown.

"But I didn't ask you for anything."

"Yes, but it will release you from your parents' debt."

"By putting me into my own pile of shit?"

He smirks. "Oh c'mon. I think I deserve more credit than that. Have I not been an incredibly generous host to you thus far?" He spreads one, long arm out to gesture to your bedroom—more like a large apartment in the corner of his mansion.

"A generous host during my stay in your prison?" you ask, snorting. "Sure." His face falls into a flat expression that you ignore as you lean forward to read the beginnings of your contract.

INFERNAL SUCCESSION OF DEBT

Contract ID 666-4 This Agreement is entered into between:

THE DEVIL, King of the Infernal Realms, Lord of Temptation, Prince of Darkness, Keeper of Eternal Contracts, Hereinafter referred to as "Employer," "His Infernal Majesty," or "Boss";

and

Y/N L/N, Sole Living Descendant and Responsible Party, Hereinafter referred to as "Employee".

PREAMBLE

WHEREAS, Employee's parents entered into a legally binding contract with Employer in exchange for wealth, prosperity, favorable stock performance, and several luxury vehicles;

WHEREAS, said parents were obligated to surrender themselves for eternal servitude upon collection;

WHEREAS, said parents have inconveniently perished before collection could be completed;

WHEREAS, Hell's Collections Department has determined Employee to be the sole inheritor of all outstanding debts, obligations, curses, liens, penalties, and miscellaneous infernal paperwork;

THEREFORE, Employer has graciously offered Employee the following alternatives:

OPTION A: In fulfillment of the obligations incurred by Employee's deceased parents, Employee shall enter the service of the Infernal Realm for all eternity.

Duties shall include, but are not limited to:

Processing approximately 4.8 million forms per day

Responding to customer complaints from damned souls

Sharpening ceremonial pitchforks

Serving as a chew toy for baby hellhounds during training exercises

Untangling chains in the Pit of Eternal Knots

Operating the Soul Intake Window during holiday rushes

Rewriting contracts damaged by hellfire

Cleaning the Room of Despair every third Tuesday

Escorting lost souls to the appropriate department

Conducting annual inventories of screams

Working closely with Minghao from Accounting

Employee acknowledges that eternity is a super long time and that the above list is not-at-all exhaustive.

OPTION B: Accept employment under Employer for the duration of Employee's natural mortal lifespan, after which Employee shall receive a permanent position with benefits.

You look back up at the Devil. He watches you with an unreadable expression.

"What's the catch?"

"You'd have to read all 666 pages of your contract to find it."

You narrow your eyes at him. "You don't think I'll do it." He neither confirms or denies. "I will. I will read all 666 pages."

"Fine by me," he says, shrugging one shoulder and standing. "But after you read them and decide on either option A or B, you'll have another contract to sign for terms of your servitude or your employment. I'm sure you can guess how many pages each are."

You feel the ambition leave your soul. You roll your eyes and shake your head. "Sit your ass down."

He smirks and follows directions.

"I assume they went to Hell, no?" He nods. "Why can't you just go find their souls and make them serve their sentence?"

"Debt must be collected before death and the souls are admitted into Hell and sorted into the proper circles of punishment, where they'll be doing something very different for all of eternity." He shakes his head regretfully. "Your parents are currently being fried in vats of oil over and over again. If they had survived until debt collection, they would've remained human for eternity, serving me even as their increasingly brittle bones repeatedly broke under the weight of their chores."

He smiles wistfully at what could have been, and you wince. "Um. Okay... well, what would my duties be for option B?"

The Devil nods to the space next to the contract, where an employment agreement appears, lines appearing one after the other just like the original contract. You groan.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why is Hell a corporation?"

His eyebrows rise. "What else would Hell be?"

You pause, ruminating on the thought. "Okay, good point."

You sigh and skim the employment agreement.

POSITION

Employee shall serve as: Executive Assistant to His Infernal Majesty

Responsibilities include, but are not limited to:

Maintaining Employer's schedule

Screening calls

Organizing contracts

Overseeing scheduled plagues, wars, famines, etc.

Managing infernal correspondence

Other duties as assigned

Employee shall reside in Employer's primary estate for the duration of employment. Position will require 30% travel.

COMPENSATION

During mortal employment, Employee shall receive:

Free housing

Free meals

Free skincare

Access to infernal healthcare

Unlimited coffee

Following Employee's natural death, Employee shall receive:

Permanent demon status

Comfortable accommodations

Full retirement benefits

Choice of station

WORKPLACE CONDUCT

Employer shall not:

Steal Employee's soul

Curse Employee without written notice

Sell Employee to rival supernatural entities (or anyone else)

Employee shall not:

Summon competitors

Sign contracts on Employer's behalf

Open portals without supervision

Feed eldritch horrors after midnight

TERMINATION

This Agreement may only be terminated by:

Employee's natural death

The collapse of reality

Mutual agreement

A successful legal challenge upheld by three (3) cosmic authorities and at least one (1) archangel

INHERITED DEBT RESOLUTION

Upon execution of this Agreement:

Employee shall be considered to have satisfied all obligations inherited from their parents

Employer shall permanently cease collection efforts

Employee's parents shall remain classified as "Paid In Full"

The rest of your mortal life is a long time. You know very well that by agreeing to this, you're literally signing a deal with the Devil. It's sad and pathetic to acknowledge, but if this new life is anything like the last three days have been, it's already a huge upgrade from how you were living prior to your home invasion.

You lean away from the contracts and take a deep breath before nodding once. You can make it an even bigger upgrade.

"I want an unlimited budget for interior decorating of my living quarters," you start. His eyebrows rise to meet his hairline.

"You're negotiating with the Devil?" he asks, clarifying that he understands your intentions.

"Sure am," you confirm before shooting off your demands one after the other. "I want my apartment kept and paid for as a place to unwind when needed, and I want unlimited visiting rights to Earth. I want all my bills paid for and the newest Samsung any time I want to upgrade my phone. I want backstage passes to any K-Pop group of my choice at any concert I want. I want an expense account and a black credit card to match."

"We—"

"And I don't care if you don't use credit cards in Hell. I want a black credit card. And I want it to be metal and heavy. The fancy one."

He clamps his mouth back shut and nods for you to keep going.

"I want full autonomy over my soul while mortal and after death," you emphasize. "My employment does not mean you own me."

"How many times do you want me to remind you I am not a monster?"

"You're the literal Devil."

"Yes, exactly!" he agrees. "Not a monster!"

You scoff, unsure of how to even respond to that. "You don't own me!" you repeat.

"Yes! Of course! I do not own you! Obviously!" he says, appeasing you. "Go on."

"I also want protection from… whoever your enemies are."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "My enemies?"

You shrug. "Like… God or whatever."

He grins—a genuinely amused one. It's heart-shaped and wide and it's not befitting for the Devil. He looks like someone you could cuddle, not someone who could eat your soul for dinner after finishing your ghost pepper chips. "You, humans, have a very ill-conceived idea of Heaven and Hell. God is not my enemy. She is my colleague."

The smile that envelopes your face is uncontrollable. "She?! God is a woman?! I fucking knew it!"

"Of course she is," the Devil scoffs. "Why would a man be kept in charge of Heaven? That's absurd."

"Hm. Agreed," you say, a little suspicious of having something you both agree upon. "Okay, so no enemies…"

"None," he says, yawning. "Unless you consider damned souls enemies."

"Well, I want protection from anything that can hurt me."

He looks at you like you're dumb. "You'll be living with the Devil. You will be at my side at almost all times of the day. I am the protection."

"What if you hurt me?" you point out.

He rolls his eyes. "It would be counterproductive to hurt my own employee. If you haven't yet wandered into my contracts room, go find it later and you'll see how badly I need an assistant."

You try not to choke on your own spit as you think about the weird room stuffed full of paper. Does he expect you to do something with that…?

"Anything else?" he asks. "You've been so frugal with your demands. Are you sure you don't want to be a billionaire? The ruler of the free world?"

You ignore his sarcasm and shrug. "Is that possible?" He glares at you. "Okay, then no. I don't want those things. But I do have one more demand."

"Oh, goodie," he sighs. "What?"

"On the point of employment until death…"

The Devil laughs, the sound mocking. "That one is not negotiable, darling. It's either eternal servitude or employment until your mortal death—which is what you would be doing anyway if it weren't for your scumbag parents. One is definitely better than the other."

You glare at him. "I'm not going to play Devil's maid until I'm 100 and you're laughing at me as my bones are turning to dust."

"Per your employee agreement, you will have access to infernal healthcare, a perk that would not have been offered to your parents," he points out. "It might surprise you to know it's much more generous than whatever the hell you humans are offering these days. I assure you, your bones will never turn to dust."

"I want to remain as I am," you inform him, not taking no for an answer. "I will work for you until death, but I will remain as I am. No growing pains, no aches, completely healthy in the body and mind I'm in now until I die."

He fixes you with a hard stare for several moments, but you're determined to get your way. You don't avert your gaze and you don't give in. He sighs deeply through his nose. "Fine. Accepted."

The employment agreement changes before your very eyes, reflecting your negotiations, and you're pleased to see every point you argued written onto the paper in glittery red.

"Oh! And I refuse to call you Your Infernal Majesty."

He shrugs. "Okay."

"Okay…"

"What?"

"What do I call you?"

"Oh. Jun. You can call me Jun."

"Okay. I guess you have yourself an assistant, Jun."

He smirks, raising an open hand to you. You take a breath before you slip your hand into his, his slender fingers closing around you and shaking. On the final shake, he squeezes and you feel a just barely tolerable heat bind the two of you together for several seconds. Bursts of bright red lines glow around your joined hands, frantically circling them before they escape to the pieces of paper between you. Jun releases you just as you realize the lines have become both of your signatures on the contracts.

"It's done," he says, eyes flashing red again. "You, Y/N, have just signed a deal with the Devil."

And because you're not one to let a man intimidate you—Devil or not—you smile right back, lean in, and remind him in a theatrical whisper, "You're as stuck in here with me as I am with you."

When the arrogance painted all over his face falters the tiniest bit, you wink and throw yourself off your bed, finally ready to start your day at a bright and early 2 p.m.

"Don't you go regretting this now, Junnie!"

DAY TEN

Hell is exactly what you expected it to be after seeing Jun's contracts: a corporate abyss. It's an open floor plan with unassigned desks, harsh overhead lighting, and a water cooler where a demon is stationed, their only task to make awkward small talk with the parched, tortured soul that comes up to it hoping for a cup. The demons, of course, have the time of their lives, scheduling meetings that could have been emails, demanding overtime of salaried souls, asking for things that were already given to them several days ago and promptly lost upon receipt.

You don't fully understand it. Before you were taken away from Earth, you were working as a full-time bartender. In fact, the only reason you and your friends hadn't gotten kicked out that night for being belligerently drunk was because you were being belligerently drunk at the club you worked at. Before that, your only foray into corporate life was as a customer service representative answering phones and talking to angry people who had nothing but free time to scream at you. You lasted exactly one week, and that's all you need to at least appreciate why it's the model for Hell.

And for the last few days, you've been following Jun around it, soaking in all the information you need. For example, Jun is in "the office" during most "daylight" hours (Hell doesn't have windows so how are you supposed to know when daylight is?), and usually brings his work back to the home you now share. Unclear if he sleeps at all.

He doesn't spend time around the damned souls—not that they even realize who he is as he walks by. He pays them no mind, letting his demon subordinates take care of tormenting them. Instead, his time in the office is spent attending meetings with high-ranking demons, archangels, and occasionally, God herself. If he's not in the office or at home, he'll be traveling. Unclear what he'll do on his trips, but you assume it's something akin to what he did for your parents. He assures you each trip will only be a few hours and that he'll call if that changes. You assure him you don't care.

Today is the first time you won't be shadowing him. Jun unceremoniously dropped you off at the mail room without so much as a goodbye, muttering something about picking you up at the end of the day. You didn't have time to point out that you have no idea when that is. And hours later, it seems that it still isn't the end of the day.

"So… who are you…?"

You look up from the mountain of envelopes you've been tasked with going through. Apparently, the Devil receives a lot of mail, and apparently, Jun is above simply throwing all of them into an incinerator. It turns out when people can't get a hold of God, they turn to the next best thing. And the next best thing insists that you read every last letter and decide whether it's worth responding to.

The demon talking to you entered the room just a minute or so ago. He's a man who looks to be about your age, though you're under no delusions that he actually is. For all you know, he's millions of years old. His spiky blonde hair is currently pointed to your right as he tilts his head at you curiously. "Actually, what are you…?"

You squint at him. "I'm human…" you gesture down at your lack of black leather, dressed like the pink Care Bear threw up on you as a quiet form of protest against the dreadfully drab aesthetic Hell insists on. "Obviously."

He nods. "Right… but… you're not dead."

"No," you say, using more force than needed to slice through the next envelope with the letter opener you were given—a knife with a handle shaped like a devil's tail. A tail you noticed Jun does not have.

The demon winces and you're glad for it. Just because Jun is convinced you're safe doesn't mean you are; the more of them who believe you'll shank them with a letter opener for breathing funny, the better.

"I am not dead."

"What's your—"

"I'm working," you cut him off icily, making a show of stabbing the letter opener into the wooden table and straightening the paper in front of your face. The man next to him snorts but says nothing, simply grabbing the mail he came in for and leaving.

"So you work in the mail room? Do we hire humans to do that now?"

You roll your eyes behind the piece of paper. You don't answer.

"Do you know whose mail you're going through…? Because it's His—"

"Jun's," you sigh, slamming the piece of paper down and shoving it toward your throw pile. "I am reading Jun's mail." You fold your hands in front of you on the table and lean forward to give him all the attention he obviously wants. The demon's eyes widen, leaning back the tiniest bit.

"Y-you can't just… say his name like that," he whispers to you, eyes sliding back and forth. The mail room is full of demons, and it isn't until he looks around that you realize all of them have frozen in place. You frown as you follow his gaze.

"Jun?" you repeat loudly, resisting the urge to smirk when more of them gasp.

"Stop!"

"Why?" you ask, snickering as you reach for the next envelope and rip it open without the help of the letter opener. Dear Satan, you read. "Is it like Voldemort here? Scared to say your own boss's name?"

"Pfft, no one here is scared to say 'Voldemort,'" he says, rolling his own eyes. "Rowling will be here as soon as God decides it's time for her to retire from Twitter. And life."

You hum in approval. "Good to hear."

"It's just wise to be a little more respectful when referring to His Infernal Majesty."

You smile. "Yeah, I'm not calling him that."

"Your funeral."

"Or yours," you say, pointedly looking at the letter opener stabbed into the surface right now. You look back at him and his eyes are on the tool too. "Think Jun would be happy about you distracting his personal assistant from very important work?"

The demon balks at you, but you return your attention to the letter. Dear Satan. "You're his assistant?" You hum in confirmation. "Oh wow. That's… wow. Um, I'm Soonyoung."

"I didn't ask."

"Are you sure you aren't a demon?"

You look up at him without putting your letter down. "I'm sure, Soonyoung." Your eyes flick back down to the letter. Dear Satan, you read for the third time.

"Well, you would make a really good one," he tells you. Your fingers crinkle the letter, twitching in as they try to keep from completely crumpling it in frustration. "Is that why His Infernal Majesty hired you? How did you two meet?"

"Soonyoung." It seems like the entire room freezes and the demon's eyes widen at something behind you. You look over your shoulder to find Jun standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his brows pulled down. The other demons not named Soonyoung immediately flee the room. "Are you bothering Y/N?"

You huff. "Sure. You can give him my name."

Your boss smirks but ignores you. "Leave her alone. If I hear my name one more time, I'll make you work a shift in Accounting." You raise your eyebrows. No wonder they're so afraid to say his name. It literally summons him.

Soonyoung pushes himself off where he'd been leaning on the table across from you, immediately leaving the room and bowing to your boss and muttering apologies as he goes. You snort, turning back around and reading your letter in full for the first time.

Dear Satan,

If you're real, prove it.

You nod, taking a piece of paper out to write your response. Just as you finish, you hear Jun's voice—much closer this time—and you startle.

"Interesting."

"Holy shit," you breathe, leaning back to look at him reading over your shoulder. "I thought you left."

He reaches past you, allowing you to get a whiff of his cologne. Something that smells woodsy and spicy. He takes your pile of letters and responses and reads them aloud.

"'Dear Satan, if you're real, prove it,'" he reads. His eyes go to the piece of paper with your response. "'No.'"

He stares at you but reveals no indication of whether or not he approves. He puts the two pieces of paper down on the table next to you and moves on.

"'Dear Devil, did the dinosaurs go to Heaven or Hell?' 'They went to Heaven. What kind of fucking question is this?'" Papers down.

You think the twitch of his lips is a smile threatening to break through. He succeeds in hiding it if it is, and he just keeps going.

Dear Satan, should I text my ex?

I am the #1 advocate of free will. But know that if you do, I will haunt you for the rest of your mortal life and you will never find love. Ever.

Dear Satan, if you help me pass my AP Chem test, I will owe you my life. P.S. For my records, does this count as a legally binding contract?

No, it does not. Go study and never write here ever again.

Dear Satan, does my cat work for you? I love her, but sometimes, she does things that make me wonder. I don't think she sleeps. She just watches me. All the time. I also feel like she can maybe talk and is hiding it. Is she secretly a demon?

Jun pauses, eyes sliding to you, though you're unsure why. You hold his stare, but he just redirects his attention back to your response.

Probably. What's her name?

He seems to decide that's enough, calmly putting the pile of papers down with the others. "Hm." You don't know what it means and he doesn't clarify. Instead, he asks, "Hungry?"

You gasp, your work immediately forgotten. "Yes! Does Hell have sushi?"

"No. We only have the blood and organs of sinners here." You crinkle your nose but he doesn't say that he's joking, and it makes your stomach turn. "But Earth does. And I believe you negotiated unlimited visitation rights." You nod. You did. You absolutely did. "Come on. My treat for a good first day spent on your own."

"It's your treat no matter what," you mutter, standing up and leading the way out of the mail room, trusting your responses will be sent out by someone who isn't busy stuffing their face with sushi. "I literally have free food written into my employment agreement."

"You can never just let me have the last word, can you?"

"Nope. Get used to it."

DAY SIXTEEN

Your adrenaline spikes when the phone on your desk, right outside Jun's corner office (the only place with windows and a killer view of racists burning alive at all hours of the day), rings. You squeak with excitement as you answer it.

This should be nerve-wracking for you; your one week in customer service scarred you enough that the sheer sound of phones ringing sent anxiety crawling up your spine. But here, answering the phone meant all kinds of fun possibilities.

It could be a teenager calling via Ouija Board. It could be someone summoning Jun to sell their soul. It could be a demon needing help as a priest exorcises them from a possession. It could be God.

"You've reached Jun's desk. How may I help you?"

"Wrong." Your joy flatlines at your boss's voice. "I told you, you can't use my name when answering the phone."

"I'm not calling you whatever silly title everyone else here insists on calling you," you grumble.

"That's fine. I don't give a shit. Just don't use my name," he says. "I already hear everyone on Earth muttering about Satan. We don't need to add my Hell-given name to the mix."

You sigh. "Fine. What do you need? I've already taken care of your mail and schedule for the rest of the week, I have your requested reports from Accounting, and the Hellhounds have been caught. They're eating their midday snacks now."

"What snacks? You know that cannibals upset their stomachs. If they throw up, you will be cleaning it up."

"First of all, no. I won't." You've already seen the messes the Hellhounds are capable of, and you'd rather Jun eat your soul than have to clean up after one. "Second of all, I know. I gave them some family annihilators."

"Perfect. Thanks. Tell Soonyoung if he loses them one more time, he'll be fed to them next."

"Got it," you say, taking mental note to threaten the demon next time he comes around to annoy you. "So why are you calling? Did you forget whose debt you're collecting today? It's—"

"I know," he cuts you off. "Just checking to see how it's going since this is your first full day without me in Hell."

You frown at nothing in particular. "The Devil does check-in calls…? Oddly considerate."

You can practically hear Jun's glare through the phone. "No. The Devil is making sure you haven't completely run his empire into the ground."

"I am but a measly human," you sigh dramatically. "If I have the power to run a supernatural empire that predates time itself into the ground, it's probably a really bad empire."

"Hm." He clearly refuses to tell you that you have a good point. "I also called to let you know I'll be late tonight so you don't have to worry about working after you leave the office. I'll see you at breakfast."

You told him you didn't care if his trips made him late or if he even wanted to go out and do his own thing after; you aren't his mother or his wife, and you can probably discern this information from his calendar without him calling. But now that it's actually happening, you realize you care a tiny bit. Mostly because in the last two weeks, the two of you have gotten into a routine of sorts.

You woke up, usually from your duvet being ripped off and your eye mask being sent into whatever other dimension Jun sent things to, and you'd sit down for breakfast, going through everything your boss was doing for the day. Jun didn't need to eat, but he joined you anyway, occasionally having a bowl of cereal since you made it clear you never want to see him eating the blood and organs of sinners in the house. Then, he'd take the both of you to work, where you would do whatever it is the day demanded of you, before heading home and having dinner. If he had a trip that day, he still made it home in time to sit with you, eating whatever it is you made in the generously stocked kitchen.

You'd kind of forgotten to be afraid of being alone because you never were anymore. Jun was always there, and if he wasn't, you were either busy working or asleep. The thought of coming back to the house without him, having to eat dinner by yourself, and not having anyone to talk to gets your heart racing faster than usual.

"Hello?"

"Okay," you say, nodding even though he can't see you. Maybe if you force your body to agree to it, your mind will follow suit. "Have fun collecting those souls."

"Thanks," he says slowly.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay then. Bye."

You don't wait for him to respond, hanging up and immediately standing to make your way back to the house while the clock tells you it's still daytime. Maybe if you fall asleep earlier than usual, you'll bypass the terror you already feel creeping in.

DAY TWENTY-THREE

"Junnie!" you call without turning over your shoulder.

You have to keep working on securing catering for the 1,700 demons who will be gathering for an "Innovation & Disruption: Bringing Medieval-Style Torture to the Modern Age" seminar in a few days. You don't even know how to get blood and organs catered. And never mind having to arrange accommodations for the demons that insist on bringing their eldritch horrors with them.

You hear your boss's usual grunt of acknowledgment. "Time to get going to that cult summoning if you want to make it on time!" You glance at the CCTV feed in the corner of your screen. "They're almost done drawing the pentagram!"

He groans but you hear the unmistakable sound of his chair rolling away from his desk and creaking as he stands anyway. A few moments later, he's standing next to you. You pause your catering research to look up at him.

"I don't assume the demons would want to have Subway or something at this seminar?" you ask.

"No." Jun's mouth curves into a small smile. "No, they probably do not want Subway."

"Shame." You shrug and turn back to your computer. "Well, have fun with the nut jobs! Remember, Risk & Assessment flagged the cult leader for us; his possession score is very high, so if you find him insufferable—and I'm sure that with your patience, you will—feel free to ring me and I'll send you a demon to torment him a bit."

"Noted," he says, chuckling a little. "And just so you know, I'll probably be late again."

You deflate a little. It's been a week since the last time Jun came home late from work, and you're still working out the stress knots it put into your shoulders.

"Oh." You try to think of what you'll do to stave off the panic this time since sleeping early didn't do it for you. When you realize your boss is standing there, scrutinizing you and waiting for a proper response, you say a pathetic "sounds good."

"Hm. I was actually thinking you may be more help coming with me tonight than staying here," he says suddenly. "Or at home."

You straighten up and try not to look too eager at the invitation. "Wait. I can come to the summoning?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Is that allowed?"

He stares at you blankly. "I'm the King of Hell."

You roll your eyes, your heart rate slowing down as your anxieties subside. "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed."

The second you and Jun make landfall in the middle of the cult's pentagram, there are fanatic screams and people in ridiculous cloaks falling to their knees and sobbing. You don't try to hide the revulsion on your face, flinching away when a follower crawls to you on their hands and knees, wailing and reaching for you. You inadvertently curl into your boss's side. You mutter a quiet apology when you realize you're touching him, but he ignores it, stepping between you and the enthusiastic follower.

"Hands to yourself," Jun hisses at the person, who immediately backs away.

The space becomes significantly warmer at that, and it only dawns on you now why your home is kept so cold. It never occurred to you that of course the Devil will run hot, and you feel that heat radiating from him now with nothing to quell it. The cult members must feel it too because aside from the overenthusiastic one, they give the two of you a wide berth.

Once you acclimate to the audience, you notice you're suddenly in a cloak reminiscent of the grim reaper's.

"What the hell is this?" you ask, lifting an arm and looking at the way the cloth drapes off of it.

"Summoning uniform."

"Then why don't you have one?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at Jun's all-black get-up: a crisp button-down, slim-fit slacks, and a jacket with shoulders adorned with a smattering of crystals, making it look like he's wearing the sky itself.

"I'm the Devil." Which seems to be his answer for everything. Your next complaint is drowned out by the deep and bizarre bellowing of a man on a tiny stage that quakes under his weight.

"Welcome, Our Unholiness!" You assume the man shouting is the cult leader. He wears a goat head that looks so realistic, you sorely hope it's just a mask and that the man is not wearing an animal corpse right now.

"Wrong!" you immediately call, making Jun frown at you as you step back around him, tripping a little when your foot catches on your cloak. "Fuck, ow." You yank at it violently before standing straight and addressing the man. "Accepted titles include King of Hell, King of the Infernal Realms, Lord of Temptation, Prince of Darkness, His Infernal Majesty, or The Big Bad Lord of Doom and Gloom."

"No, nope. Not that last one." You smile at him when he narrows his eyes at you. If you get the cloak, he gets the silly title.

"O-oh. Uh. Everyone, let's welcome… His Maj—"

"Infernal Majesty."

"His Infernal Majesty!" he shouts.

The crowd around you erupts into cheers, and you take the moment to look around. Your boss has been summoned to what looks like a remote compound in the middle of the desert with small concrete buildings scattered around you. The people around you look starved, dehydrated, and unclean. No wonder the Devil has been summoned; this is not a cult leader that leads very well.

"Enough," Jun says, his voice barely rising over the cheers but reverberating through the crowd anyway. It falls silent laughably fast, forcing you to stifle a giggle. "Why have you summoned me?"

"Satan, we—may I call you Satan…?" the goat head tilts toward you like he's asking you for permission. You nod and he turns back to your boss. "Satan, we have summoned you here today in the hopes that you will lend your devoted children a hand."

"I am nothing if not a provider," Jun says in a bored voice. You tilt your head and shrug before nodding as you ponder that statement. You suppose it's true. You have been living a very luxurious life since you moved to Hell.

"Oh, thank you, Satan," he sighs in relief, bowing his head and stumbling a little when the weight of the goat head makes him wobble. "We request a great boon of you."

"A boon," you echo in a whisper, mostly to yourself.

"Our tithes are declining."

"Tithes." Words you will have to Google upon returning home.

Jun's eyes flick down to you briefly before he responds. "Get on with it."

The abruptness throws the leader off, causing him to stutter. You buy him more time by stating, "As you can imagine, Ju—Satan! Satan is incredibly busy. Many summonings to tend to. Many plagues to schedule. Many damned souls to devour whole. Many—"

"He gets it," Jun cuts in.

"Right, of course!" the leader agrees. "Apologies! We would like to request monetary support."

"In exchange for?" the Devil asks, an eyebrow cocked at the man.

"For…?"

Jun glances at you and you nod, frowning when you realize for the first time that you are no longer holding your tablet. You gasp, patting your entire body before you find the needlessly deep inner pocket of your cloak. So deep, your tablet basically rests at your ankle.

"This is deeply humiliating," you mutter at your boss as you bend over to scoop it out. "Who was this made for—Shaquille O'Neal?"

"No," Jun answers, more amused than you've ever heard him. "It's mine."

You pause in your bend, cranking your neck to look at him upside down. "This is your grim reaper cloak?"

He nods, clearly suppressing a laugh. You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you continue digging your device out of the infinite pocket. You straighten back up when it's finally in your grip.

You quickly tap through for the handbook you haven't needed until now.

"Where deals with the Devil are concerned," you read aloud, projecting your voice so everyone can hear clearly, "the Devil accepts servitude of his chosen length, negotiable; a percentage of all future profits no less than 20 percent, negotiable; your luck for an amount of time of his choice, negotiable; the feeling you get when a song gives you chills, non-negotiable; your first-born child to be collected upon their 30th birthday, non—hey!"

You frown at that point and turn to your boss, your back to the cult leader. "What?"

"What the hell do you need a first-born child for?" you hiss in a whisper only he can hear because above all else, you are still very professional. "Your assistant position is already filled. You already have a first-born child that you have collected!"

Your boss's mouth curves into an arrogant smirk that you want to rip off his mouth. "First-born children are a hot commodity in Hell."

"Oh, are they?" you laugh humorlessly. "So where are they?"

"Where are they?"

"Yeah! Where are they?" you ask, unsure what you'll even do when you find out. Now that you've been in your position long enough to really appreciate its perks, the thought of being kicked to the curb fills you with a fight instinct so strong, you could choke on it. "Hiding them in the attic? Basement? In a closet I haven't found yet? Or did you build them a separate house? You have multiple offices? Multiple assistants?"

"Um, can we get back to the—"

"One minute!" you shout without turning back to the cult leader.

"Are you jealous?" Jun asks, his voice equal parts confusion and cocky. When your only answer to that is a glare, he exhales a breathy laugh and shakes his head. "The document you're reading from was last updated decades ago, darling. I assure you I have no other assistants and am not looking for any more—at least not until your contract with me is over."

"I want that added as an amendment to my agreement," you say through gritted teeth, noting to yourself to reach out to Demon Resources when you get back.

"Unnecessary, but we'll—"

"The Devil will not be accepting a first-born child!" you announce, three times as loud as you were before as you spin back around, kicking when your cloak tangles around your legs. "Keep your useless children to yourselves!"

"No children, got it," the cult leader nods. "Well… you see, we were not prepared for a proper offering tonight, as we assumed that as children of the Dark Lord—"

"Lord of Temptation or Prince of Darkness," you correct him, shaking your head.

"Er, yes. As children of the Prince of Darkness… we assumed we would just… um, receive? A gift? As loyal followers?"

Both you and Jun remain still, falling quiet at the assumption—you because you're unsure if your boss wants you to correct him, Jun because you assume he's debating whether he should kill someone or laugh. The leader laughs a little nervously, swaying back and forth and wringing his hands. It's a hilariously silly picture with his goat head still on.

"Correct this idiot before I summon a Hellhound," Jun mutters to you, turning away from the leader and taking a seat. A comically large throne appears under his ass at the perfect moment. He props his head in his hand in immense disinterest.

"You summoned the Devil," you point out the obvious. "If you were looking for handouts based on loyalty, you probably should have thrown your allegiance behind God—which by the way, did you know she's a woman?"

"Oh. Uh, that's… yeah, that makes sense."

"Right? We thought so too," you say, nodding and glancing at Jun briefly over your shoulder. He nods once, blinking slowly in the way he only does when he's finally starting to tire and needs to rest. You turn back to the leader. "If you would like Satan's financial support, he will need more than the promise that you'll continue to live in the desert, starving and unbathed. He will need something he can actually use." You point at his mask. "By the way, the goat head does nothing. He does not like that."

Jun speaks behind you, confirming. "I do not. I hate it."

The leader immediately rips the head off, chucking it away from him with so much force, it bounces several times and disappears into the darkness not lit by the torches that surround the pentagram. He's younger than you assumed he'd be, and he's sweaty and red from staying in the goat head.

"What will you be offering the Devil tonight?" you ask. "Would you like more examples of gifts he will accept?"

"Um, no, I think… I think we can offer, uh, servitude?" his followers groan, but he doesn't change his answer.

"Wonderful," you nod, making note of it in your tablet. One of Jun's famous contracts materializes in front of the sweaty man, the glow of it painting him even redder. "The Devil will award you with just enough money to keep this Burning Man-inspired cult thriving as long as at least one member present here tonight is alive. In exchange, His Infernal Majesty will collect their souls for eternal servitude at the end of their natural-born lives."

There's an uproar of protests as you finish reading the terms.

"Well, wait, hold on! You said this was negotiable."

"Indeed."

"Okay, so let's negotiate!" You watch him expectantly, waiting for said negotiation. "Right, um, yeah. So. Uh. If servitude is eternal… maybe our financial support should also be of unlimited nature?"

"'Maybe'?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"It should! It should!" he corrects himself. "Limitless money forever, regardless of whether or not the members here tonight are still alive, in exchange for our eternal servitude upon the end of life."

You watch as Jun's signature starts to scribble on the contract, signaling his acceptance of the agreement. You frown and shake your head. "Denied!"

Jun makes a sound of surprise as his signature stops mid-air.

"Limitless money forever, independent of tonight's members, in exchange for your current and future members' eternal servitude upon end of life—regardless of length of cult membership."

The silence that follows is tense, the cult leader chewing his lower lip as he thinks it through and his followers clearly ruminating on what limitless money can do for them.

"The Big Bad Lord is due for another engagement shortly," you inform him, earning you an annoyed grunt from your boss. "Please make your mind up quickly."

"Deal," he answers, nodding confidently. "Deal!"

You smile as you watch Jun sign on his dotted line. Your boss suddenly appears before the leader, outside the pentagram meant to keep you both contained and the summoners safe from you—obviously a myth. Once summoned, Jun is free to do as he pleases wherever he pleases. Everyone gasps at his reappearance, the leader flinching violently. Your boss extends his hand just as he did to you a month ago. When the man shakes it, the same red lines bind the agreement, and the cult leader's name and signature appear on the contract.

"Enjoy your boon, Lee Seokmin," Jun says, voice low and dangerous. "Don't go dying too soon. I'll be back to collect."

The Devil doesn't waste any more time on the cult, whisking the two of you away and back to your shared home.

"That was fun!" you exclaim, clapping your hands and giggling. "Much more fun than staying at home alone."

Jun snorts but keeps his face carefully blank as he goes to the pantry and grabs a bag of ghost pepper chips. "Yeah?"

"Definitely. Thanks for inviting me."

"I was right."

"Hm?"

"You were a lot more helpful going with me than staying back here," he clarifies, opening the bag and chomping on the snack, which he now keeps an unlimited stock of for both of you. "I should've known you'd be good at negotiating." He throws you a look of fake contempt. You smirk. "I think you should come with me to all my summonings."

You shrug, trying not to reveal how relieved you are about late nights alone not having to be a worry for you anymore. "Sure. I will make myself available."

"So generous…" Jun comments, mouth slanting in amusement. "I'm going to turn in. You good?"

You frown. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He watches you for a moment more before shaking his head. "No reason." He looks down at your cloak and nods. "Keep it for the next summoning. Night." He turns and lazily stalks off toward his suite on the other side of the house from yours.

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN

You're getting the hang of Jun in a way you never really understood any of your previous bosses. Before, your managers were people who just told you what to do and gave you minuscule raises once in a while, but being the Devil's assistant demanded knowing him on a level more intimate than you were expecting.

Because why do you know that eating too much human food will have him in the bathroom for ungodly amounts of time? It turned out that your restriction of blood in the house was actually ruining his digestive track. You're not totally uncaring, though; you now allow the Devil his blood consumption—strictly from opaque bottles. Organs, on the other hand, will never be negotiable.

You know that his favorite thing to listen to to relax after a long, stressful day is the tortured screams of damned souls drowning in the river of boiling blood. He likes falling asleep to the screams of damned souls being quartered. If he needs to hunker down and really concentrate on work, the screams of the racists burning alive right outside his window are his preferred background noise, which is probably why his office is where it is.

Jun actually hates having to negotiate. It took that first trip and a handful more to realize that he's fairly quick to accept the first offer he's given unless it's a particularly nasty human being. Since you've started accompanying him, though, you've been getting him a lot more promised benefits than before. So far, you're most proud of convincing a human to sign over her whimsy once 10 years passes. You think it will really brighten up the place once Hell receives it.

There are a lot of devilish stereotypes you've also debunked during your time with him. He has no horns or tail or wings that he's hiding. Everything you see seems to be all of it. His skin has never been red or any other color aside from the golden tan it is now. The Devil does not have an advocate, as he finds people who relentlessly challenge ideas simply for the sake of it exhausting (though, as the ruler of Hell, he does have the privilege of everyone being too scared to challenge anything he thinks or says anyway). He doesn't rely on the worship of anybody on Earth, and he doesn't care to lure pure souls to Hell; he only makes deals with the people he knows belong with him. That inspired an hours-long conversation in which you demanded he assure you your deal was the exception and you do not belong here in Hell with him.

Why? Don't you feel like you belong here? he asked, smirking. You fit right in, darling.

That might be true, but I don't belong here, right? Like, I'm not an evil person. I would've gone to Heaven if not for my terrible parents. Right?

Will you leave me alone if I agree?

JUN.

One thing you're learning now is that your boss tends to be perceived very differently by his demon subordinates. Where you see a particular and sometimes bratty individual, others see a man they need to appease lest they get their heads cut off. Where you see a softie who cuddles with his pets upon returning home, others see a king with an army of Hellhounds starving for the chance to tear them to pieces. Where you see someone who has become your own personal barista in the mornings, others see someone they're too afraid to ask even the smallest of favors from.

Exhibit A: Soonyoung.

Who is currently hissing at you to come meet him around the corner, away from your desk and away from your boss's door. You look over your shoulder quickly to find Jun deep in reviewing the piles of contracts you left for him this morning. You roll your eyes as you stand, dragging your feet lazily as you shuffle over to where Soonyoung is practically crouching to keep from being seen.

"What is it, Soonyoung?" you sigh. He waves for you to bend down and you ignore him, not bothering to crouch to match his height. "You have one minute. The purgatory's auditorium was double booked for the new hire orientation and the monthly angel-demon networking mixer, and I have to find a solution that will not only please Jun but God. I'm this close to suggesting we go to Earth and book a Chili's."

The demon doesn't even pretend to listen to your mini rant, practically speaking over your last few words. "Do you think you can ask His Infernal Majesty if I can have the next full moon off?"

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Why would I do that?"

He looks around nervously. "Um. Because you're pure of heart and soul? And you like me?"

"First of all, only one of those two statements is true," you inform him, enjoying the way he frowns as he tries to figure out which it is, "and second of all, I meant why would I need to do that?" He stares blankly at you. "Ask him yourself."

He scoffs. "Are you crazy?"

"Yes. Next question."

The answer clearly catches him off-guard, and he stammers over several syllables before standing straight and shaking his head. "I can't ask him myself."

"Why not?"

He opens and closes his mouth several times but offers you no valid reasons. He shrugs pathetically before finally admitting. "Because he scares me!"

You look at him incredulously. "Jun… scares you."

"Don't say his name!" he shriek-whispers, frantically grabbing your wrist and pulling you even further down the hall and away from your desk. He stops just outside the copy room, where a damned soul is slapping the broken copy machine. "Of course he scares me."

"The man who needs to be reminded to eat lunch and take his vitamins despite being older than the world itself scares you."

"Yes."

"The guy who gets ghost pepper chip dust all over his fingers and wipes them on whatever surface is closest to him scares you."

Soonyoung doesn't seem to find an issue with that the way you do but he still nods. "Yes."

"The dude—"

"Yes!" he nearly shouts. "Yes! No amount of ridiculous things you say right now are going to convince me to not be scared of him! I am scared of him!"

The soul at the copy machine finally gets fed up and walks out of the copy room, screaming and nearly falling over, their papers flying every direction, when Soonyoung instinctively bares his teeth and growls. They run the rest of the way back to their desk, abandoning the papers they dropped.

You bend down to start collecting them and snort when you find meaningless doodles done by one of the executives whose office is on this floor.

"You see a very different, non-scary version of him, okay?" Soonyoung continues like he didn't just scare the shit out of someone himself. "You're not scared because you don't have to see him when Hell is down on damned souls for the quarter, or when I breathe wrong around him."

You raise your eyebrows. "And this is my problem, why…?"

"It's not a problem," he says, grinning mischievously. He squats down to help you pick up the papers. "It's an advantage! You're his favorite employee! If you ask him if I can have the day off, he'll say yes!"

You pause, looking up at him and laughing. "Me. His favorite employee. After one month."

"Yeah, don't rub it in, new kid," the demon grunts, rolling his eyes. "Some of us have been kissing his ass for centuries, and you walk in and suddenly own the place. But worry not. I'm choosing to view this as a beautiful opportunity, rather than something to be jealous of."

"Sure," you follow, nodding as you continue to gather the drawings that never saw the copy machine. "You still haven't given me a good reason why you can't do it, though. Your fear is not a good reason."

He groans. "Yes it is!"

"It isn't."

"Okay, I mean. On top of that, he'll just say no."

"Why do you think that?"

He stares at you blankly. When he realizes it's a sincere question, he licks his lips and sighs. "Dude. It's been a month. You haven't had a single day off and you haven't noticed?"

You frown as you pick up the last piece of paper. You stand and think about it. "Oh my god…"

"I thought about asking God a few centuries ago too," he says, misunderstanding you. He stands and takes the pile of papers from you. "Didn't work out. Turns out they have no say in each other's teams, and His Infernal Majesty doesn't like it when demons go over his head."

"Naturally," you mutter. "Not what I meant, though. I just didn't realize I'd been working so much."

"Yeah, yeah, time flies when you're having fun," he says, waving a hand. "Anyway, I really need the day off to go to Earth."

"And do what?"

His face lights up now. "I was summoned by a hot witch the other day, and I want to pay her a visit during the full moon."

"Ooooh, a date!" You lean in, actually interested in where the conversation is going now. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know about a date," he says bashfully, cheeks turning pink. "I just want to see—"

"Soonyoung. How many times do you want me to threaten your life for distracting my assistant?"

The demon squeals, all the papers the two of you picked up exploding into confetti as they rain down around you again. You sigh, staring as they fall to the ground, deciding immediately you will not be gathering them a second time. You look to your left to find Jun suddenly standing next to you, hands in his pockets as he stares daggers at the demon. You narrow your eyes at your boss and think, yes. Yes, you would probably be scared to be on the receiving end of that look.

But you're not so you aren't. You smile.

"Hi Junnie," you greet him. His eyes flick down to you and he shoots you a flat expression at your usage of the juvenile nickname in front of his demon. "Soonyoung has a favor to ask you."

The man in question shoots you a panicked and betrayed look before grinning nervously at his boss, who turns his attention to him now. He continues giving him that stupid grin for several seconds, failing to say anything until Jun raises one eyebrow.

"Well?"

"Oh! I, um. I was wondering if—if I could have, uh—"

"Spit it out."

"If I—um, couldhavethenextfullmoonoff." He swallows nothing. "Please."

You roll your eyes at the anxiety-riddled request.

"Absolutely not," Jun says immediately, inspiring a small, stunned gasp from you. You don't think you've ever heard him deny someone of something. But then again, you've never heard anyone ask anything of him. "You know how busy full moons are."

"No, yeah, for sure, I'm so sorry," he rambles, bowing his head a few times before giggling nervously and waving a hand. "That was so silly. Yeah. Dumb of me. I was actually just kidding. Got you! So silly. Ha…"

"Oh, come on!" you whine on behalf of Soonyoung, who looks at you with wide eyes and shakes his head quickly, silently begging you to shut up. Jun looks down at you, turning to face you completely. "That's so mean! He asked nicely!" You pause, shrugging. "Nicely enough. Why can't he have the day off?"

"Because it's the full moon."

"Okay…" you elongate the word. "And there will be many more full moons. This is just one, and you have thousands of demons. When was the last time Soonyoung had a day off?"

Jun suddenly averts his eyes, clearing his throat uncomfortably. You turn to Soonyoung, who refuses to answer. You frown at your boss.

"He's… he's never had a day off…?" you ask, making it clear how appalled you are at the idea. Your lip curls up in disgust and you look him up and down judgmentally. "What kind of boss are you?"

You gawk at him as his cheeks begin to turn red.

"You don't give your employees days off? Ever? How old are you, Soonyoung? Like a million years old?"

"Okay, relax," he mutters.

"A million years, and no days off? That's really horrible, Junnie. You should be embarrassed. I am very disappoi—"

"Soonyoung, go ahead and take the full moon off ," Jun practically barks at him, taking your arm in his grip at the same time. "Enjoy your day off, and stop talking to my fucking assistant or I'll have you as a midday snack."

The last thing you see before Jun turns you around and guides you back down the hall and away from Soonyoung is the huge, grateful, and excited smile on his face. You giggle, the sound cut off by a startled squeak when you hear the demon bellow at a damned soul.

"What the hell are you looking at?! Pick these papers up and make me a thousand copies!"

When your boss releases you back at your desk, you sit down, already back to figuring out the purgatory auditorium issue. It takes a few seconds for you to realize Jun isn't going anywhere, though. You pause, looking up at him and tilting your head.

"What is it?" you ask.

"I am a great boss."

"Uh," you exhale in a laugh. "Yeah. I know."

"Do you? Because you—"

"Oh, Junnie," you sigh, rolling your eyes as you return your attention to your computer. "Soonyoung just deserves a day off." You're not sure that statement is true, but you'll be damned if anything stops you from getting the first date gossip you're guaranteed now. "I know you're a good boss."

"Hm."

"Hm," you mimic him, smiling a little. When you look back at him, his eyes are narrowed like he's not sure you're telling the truth. "I wouldn't be willingly working seven days a week if you weren't a good boss, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Alright."

"Mhm."

"I'm just gonna—" he points at his desk, not bothering to finish his sentence as he disappears back into his office.

DAY THIRTY

You know something is wrong when you wake up on your own naturally, something you haven't done since you accepted the position with Jun. You frown from under your eye mask, hand coming up to rip it off your face. You slowly sit up, finding every single blanket and the duvet still atop you, and your eyes find the clock on the wall, finding that it's almost a full hour after your usual wake-up time.

"My alarm didn't go off," you mutter.

Jun is your alarm. Jun didn't go off. You shove the blankets off you, shivering a little as you slip off the bed and tuck your feet into your bunny slippers. You shuffle out of your bedroom, poking your head into the hall to find it barren and silent.

"Jun?" you call quietly, knowing he'll hear it regardless. He doesn't answer. You walk further out into the hall, going to the kitchen to find it empty. The coffee machine wasn't touched either, even though it's always on and ready in the morning.

Your anxiety spikes as you start to wonder if he left in the middle of the night without letting you know. You scramble back to your room for your tablet, pulling his calendar up and staring at it in confusion when you find nothing different than when you left it last night.

Meeting with Archangel Joshua Marketing Team pitch Block for contracts Block for collection Monthly Satan/God touchbase (leave 30m for travel to Purgatory) Hellhound training check-in Block for contracts 1:1 with Chief Torment Officer

His meeting with Joshua would've started five minutes ago, so maybe he was just running late and needed to go without you? When has he ever run late? You're not even sure he slept. He's had meetings much earlier than that and he never failed to wake you up and sit down for breakfast. You decide the only way you'll find out is if you head to the office and see if he's there. You're one leg into your pants when your phone starts ringing.

"Thanks for calling Hell. You've reached the Devil's office. How can I help you?" you half-grunt with your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you pull your pants on.

"Do you have any idea how busy archangels are?"

"Joshua!" you gasp, immediately forgetting your pants and leaving them unbuttoned as you take your phone into your hand. "Is Jun with you?"

"Funny," he says in a way that suggests he doesn't find that funny at all. You get the feeling you won't find what he says next humorous either. "I was about to ask you the same thing. He hasn't shown for our meeting, and while he's the most vexing person I've ever met, he's also never been late. I can only really wait ten more minutes before I have to go appear as a hallucination to some humans and ask them to build a home for the less fortunate."

You groan, free hand applying pressure to your temple and eyes squeezing shut. "You know what, just… go do that. I'm sorry about this. I accidentally double-booked him. Totally my fault. I'll work with your admin to reschedule. Sorry again." You figure you'll take the fall to keep Jun away from scrutiny until you can find out where the fuck he is.

"'Kay. Don't let it happen again," he sighs dramatically.

"Okay, relax, you glorified gnat with feathers," you scoff, continuing to get dressed. "I said sorry. Y'know what? Don't call me for these things in the future! Have Seungkwan do it next time. I don't want to be subjected to your whiny, little rants."

Joshua makes a noise of disbelief before laughing. "Wow, you're the perfect assistant for Satan. For the record, I was totally kidding. I got to sit here and do nothing but doom scroll, so I don't mind. But I will have my assistant call next time. Sorry for bothering you."

"Good. Don't let it happen again." You don't allow him a response, hanging up and gathering your things as you hurry to leave for the office.

But as you exit your room, you hear your name, called so softly, you would have missed it if you hadn't paused to make sure your tablet was on you. You freeze, frowning in the direction of the sound.

"Jun?" you call, mindlessly setting your bag down in the kitchen as you walk toward your boss's suite. You find his door at the end of the hall, a deep, dark blood red, open just a crack. You knock lightly, and when you don't hear anything, you poke your head through.

And there he is, your missing boss, still cocooned in his bed, his favorite Hellcat and Hellhound sleeping at his feet, the former passed out atop the latter.

"Junnie?" you call again. He groans this time.

"Y/N…" he murmurs, not moving an inch or opening his eyes.

You tiptoe into the room, making a kissy face at Key when the hound's tail starts wagging at the sight of you. The movement makes Lock slide off the dog, meowing helplessly as she does. You get to Jun's bedside and wince when you realize how sick he looks.

The Devil is pale, sweating with a sickly sheen, and looking so weak, it's the first time you've thought he could believably pass as human. You reach out to press the back of your hand to his forehead, but he swats it away.

"Hey!"

"Don't," he whispers, voice hoarse with fatigue. "Fever. I'll burn your skin off."

"Oh," you mutter, immediately taking your hand back. "You're sick. I didn't know the Devil could get sick."

"Demon Flu," he says, eyes fluttering open just enough to peek at you. "Soonyoung sneezed in my face the other day."

"Oh!" you blink at him in surprise. "Ew! Good to know! I will make a note to send him to the Hellhounds to serve as a chew toy for the day."

"Week."

"Got it," you say, nodding. You fidget a little, looking down at your boss with pity. He looks so helpless and sad and cute. You fight the urge to run your fingers through his damp hair. "What do you need? What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. I'll be down until 3:33 a.m. tomorrow," he informs you.

"Specific."

"Just… do… assistant things," he says pathetically, fingers twitching when he tries to wave his hand dismissively.

You can do that. Your first order of business is getting him a tall glass of water and force-feeding it to him until he has rivulets of water very distractingly dribbling down his chin, neck, and between his pecs, where it disappears under the covers.

Then, you get him a cold compress, screeching in surprise when the towel crackles and steams upon contact with his forehead. When that warms up within a minute, you try getting him an actual ice block, chipped straight off the furniture of his weird ice room. You take his moan of relief as a good thing and quickly get to work butchering the ice room until you have an endless supply of blocks for Jun's sizzling forehead.

When you're done with that, you make him the hot pot you made yourself one night and noticed he had several helpings of, spoon feeding it to him despite his several protests. After two slurps, though, there isn't much of a fight, with Jun relaxing back into his pillows and happily allowing you to feed him as he lets his eyes close. You pause, wondering if he fell asleep, but he immediately whines for his next spoonful.

"You're a baby when you're sick."

"I could die."

"You literally couldn't."

He slurps his latest spoonful of broth. "Feels like it."

"Mmm," you hum, smiling at how endearing he is when he doesn't have the energy to put up his big, bad act.

"Y'know…" he rasps, "when I said do assistant things, I meant at work."

"My work is making your life easier, no?" you counter, letting go of the spoon to pick up the chopsticks and pluck meat out of the broth for Jun to eat. He practically purrs when his mouth closes around the chopsticks, and you struggle not to watch his Adam's apple as he swallows. "So I am doing assistant things at work."

Jun opens his eyes, able to open them wider than he was when you first found him. "Just work, hm?"

You set the chopsticks down and pick up the spoon to chase his bite down with broth, but his fingers circle around your wrist, stopping before the spoon can touch his lips. His grip is hot but it doesn't hurt—not how you imagine his face would. "You're full?"

"Why are you feeding me?"

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Because you're sick and need to eat…?"

Jun's eyes narrow infinitesimally, but he releases your wrist, allowing you to feed him more broth.

"Not used to being cared for, are you?" you observe, chuckling. "Big, bad Devil has never been spoonfed?" Your boss rolls his eyes but doesn't entertain you by acknowledging your question.

After a few more bites, his long, slender fingers gently push the bowl away, and he shakes his head, muttering a quiet thank you as you set the food aside on his nightstand. You stand, pulling his blankets up even higher when you see him shiver.

"You don't have to do all this," he sighs as you shove your fingers under his back and legs, tucking his blankets in along his entire body until he looks like an oversized, swaddled baby. "It's not in your employment agreement. Go work."

"I will," you say, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. "And you realize I can help you without being contractually obligated to, right?" you ask, laughing and collecting all the dishes you need to bring back to the kitchen. "You don't need to have me sign my soul away to get me to care, Junnie. I know I don't need to do any of this. Consider it a friend-slash-roommate helping you."

You finish cleaning up and don't allow him the chance to retort or protest, immediately turning away and calling Lock and Key to follow you out of the room.

"Come on, kiddies," you coo as his pets exit. "Your daddy needs to rest." You glance back up at Jun, who stares at you hard with a deep frown on his face. "Call if you need anything. I'll stay nearby and check on you in an hour!"

DAY THIRTY-SIX

Jun has been weird around you for the last week. It's like that dumb flu of his altered his brain chemistry and made him cold and detached.

There was no more going into your room to wake you up; now he has a shrill alarm clock appear to scream in your ear like a demented banshee, disappearing every time you try to smack wherever its snooze button is. He no longer sits for breakfast with you; now, he tells you he needs to be at the office ahead of you and will simply meet you there. Thankfully, he allows you to continue accompanying him to his summonings, but with how weird he's acting, you wonder if it would be better to just face your fears and be alone.

You attempted to talk to him throughout the week, trying not to take it personally when all you got were one-worded responses or grunts or blank stares.

Three days in, you started slacking a little to force him to say more than one word to you. You scheduled meetings so he'd show up ten minutes late. You sent a Hell-wide email promising everyone a four-day work week if quotas were met. You even threatened to release the lower-level sinners from their torture chambers to cause trouble for the archangels. All that got you was a severe glare, and a notice from Demon Resources that one more mistake would get you on a performance improvement plan, which you were informed would involve giving the Hellhounds baths alongside the damned souls in charge of that.

It's clear that Jun is in a mood—probably the aftereffects of the mysterious Demon Flu you can't catch. You've resigned yourself to riding it out, accepting that even the Devil is prone to tantrums and mood swings.

The phone on your desk rings, and you heave a tired sigh before answering.

"Hi. You've reached the desk of The Supreme Lord of Sulkiness," you greet loudly, ignoring the series of choked coughs that erupt from your boss's office behind you. "How may I help you?"

"Oh, uh…" the voice pauses like they're checking something. "This is His Infernal Majesty's desk, correct?"

"Yep, that's what I just saaaaid," you sing-song. "Now how can I help you?"

"This is the front desk. We have an archangel on the line that insists on speaking with His Infernal Majesty."

You roll your eyes. "Who is it?"

"Archangel Brayden…?"

The idiot is the biggest pain in your ass. You're not even sure why he constantly asks after Jun when Joshua is the archangel appointed with all relations having to do with Hell. It's probably a weird power play in Heaven that you're not privy to, but you've been dodging him for days now.

"Tell him he's not available."

"He is threatening to visit for the third time this week."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter.

"You want me to transfer him to Christ?"

You frown deeply at that. "What? We can transfer him to—wait, what?"

"You said—"

"Never mind, just—ugh," you groan in frustration, resting your elbows on the desk and cradling your head in your free hand. "Put him through."

"Will do." The line cuts to the agonized screams of damned souls as you wait for her to transfer him to you.

"Hello?" his dumb voice drifts through the receiver.

"Hi. You've reached the desk of—"

"Who am I speaking to?"

You clamp your mouth shut, rolling your lips between your teeth to keep from immediately snapping at him. When you're sure you won't, you state your name.

He still manages to say it wrong, but you don't bother correcting him. "I need a meeting with Satan."

"And why is that?"

He laughs arrogantly. "That's between me and him."

"Well, he's busy."

"I haven't even given you my availability."

"Don't need yours. I have his, and he's busy." You tack on "for the rest of time" for good measure.

There's a loaded silence long enough that you wonder if you've effectively driven him into hanging up. Of course, that would be too easy. "You really don't want to mouth off with me."

"Excuse me?" You huff a laugh of disbelief. You swear some of these angels are bigger assholes than the demons crawling around here.

"You heard me," he seethes. You feel your self-control dissolving by the second. "Now you can either transfer me to your boss like a good, little demon slave—"

"I am literally none of those four things."

"—or," he near-shouts over you, "you can put me in his books. This is a very important meeting, and I'd hate for you to have your soul ripped apart for failing to schedule it."

"Listen here," you hiss, "you repulsive, pretentious, foul excuse for an—"

"Brayden."

You freeze as Jun's voice cuts into the call. You turn toward his office to find him leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles. His eyes slide over to you and he lazily lifts a hand and beckons you over with two fingers. You quickly hang the phone up and stand, entering Jun's office in time to catch the archangel bumbling nonsensically on speakerphone.

He nods at the seats in front of him and you take one, slowly lowering yourself as he speaks.

"I don't believe we've met," Jun says, interrupting his stuttering.

"Um, no, we haven't! I just wanted to schedule a coffee chat to introduce myself!" You glare at the phone. A coffee chat is his very important meeting?

"What a fucking tool," you murmur.

"A coffee chat," the Devil repeats.

"Yes. I figured Hell is a huge place. Maybe you need two archangels to serve as point. I'd love to put my name in the ring—"

"And you thought threatening my assistant was the best way to do it?" Jun asks, face blank as he stares at you.

"Oh, no," he says, laughing like it's a joke, "No, no, definitely not. I was not threatening her."

"Hm."

You've grown accustomed to Jun's many variations of hm. There's his thoughtful hm. The hm when he's trying not to smile or laugh. His angry hm. The that-is-the-dumbest-thing-I've-ever-fucking-heard hm. A hm reserved especially for when Soonyoung annoys him. This one isn't one you're familiar with.

"What was it you were saying about her soul being torn apart?" Saying the words again makes Jun's eyes turn a deep red. His hands turn into fists, making the veins running up his forearm pop.

"I was joking!" Brayden insists. "I was totally joking. She and I joke like that! We—"

"Lie to me one more time and I'll have God cast you out of Heaven so fast, you won't know how you ended up in my Hellhound's digestive system."

The line falls silent, and your body does interesting things in reaction to the words—the most obvious one being the odd ache between your legs. You fidget a little, finger slipping into your collar and pulling a little as you begin to feel warm.

"How long have you been an archangel, Brayden?"

"Uh, well, heh," he laughs nervously. "So, I'm not quite an archangel yet. I'm—"

Jun cuts him off with a sharp, terrifying laugh. "And now you never will be," he informs him. "I'm sure both Archangel Joshua and God will agree that you aren't fit for that role."

He squeaks in protest. "I—"

"Wow, how productive!" Jun says with feigned glee. "Look at us, we had a great chat and we didn't even need to waste time breathing each other's air or ruining the joys of drinking caffeine."

"Uh, I, um, sir—"

"Have any other demands you'd like to make?"

"No," he answers immediately. "No, I… I don't. I'm sorry. I—"

"Perfect," he says. "Now if you'll apologize to my assistant, we can get on with our lives. And make it good, Brayden. I don't like to repeat orders."

"I'm so sorry," Brayden grovels, sounding like he's on the verge of tears, if not fully crying already. He sniffles and his voice cracks on his next words. "I don't know why I was acting like such an asshole and bothering all of you when I had no business going over Archangel Joshua's head like that. I'm sorry, Satan."

Jun narrows his eyes. "I don't want your apologies."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Hm," he accepts it. "Then I think our business is done. And Brayden?"

"Yes?" his voice trembles.

"If I hear that you called anyone here in Hell again, let alone my assistant," he starts, eyes flashing a bright and violent scarlet now, "I will personally come up there, pluck you right out of the fucking sky, and take my sweet, sweet time flaying you with a dull butter knife—wings and all—before I tear your soul apart, piece by agonizing piece myself."

There's a loud sniffle followed by a whimper on the line, but the ache inside you is so strong now, you can't even enjoy the sound.

"And if you think my friendships with your superiors will stop me, you are so sorely mistaken." His pause is pregnant with tension, his eyes boring into you as he lands his final threat. "I have absolutely no problem with starting a war over you."

The words send a chill down your spine, and you cross your legs tightly to keep from twitching at the sensation. You grip the arms of your chair and avert your eyes from your boss, trying to understand what the fuck is happening to your body right now. You quietly blow a breath out through your mouth when the sensation doesn't let up.

As expected, the angel doesn't have a proper response to that.

"Good talk, Brayden," Jun says sardonically. "Don't let me hear your voice ever again."

He reaches over and presses a button on his phone, ending the call. He looks back to you, his eyes finally fading back to that deep, comforting brown. He sighs, seeming suddenly and significantly less sure of himself than he was on the phone.

"Um," he clears his throat, coughing a little as he grips the edge of his desk with both hands. He looks down at his lap and inhales deeply. His breath is spicy with the smell of your chips on his exhale, blowing strands of your hair away from your face. "Sorry."

"Why?" you laugh in disbelief. The sound must unwind something in him because his posture relaxes and he looks back up at you. "That was amazing!"

He snorts, shaking his head at himself. "Yeah, well. It's going to result in a lot of discussions with God and Joshua, so… please find something on their calendars."

"Got it, boss," you say, standing to return to your own desk.

Before you get far, though, Jun calls your name, the syllables sounding weird from him—much softer and gentler than you've ever heard him be. It almost triggers your fight or flight for some reason.

"Yeah?" you ask slowly, eyes flitting about the room nervously.

"You don't have to stay on calls like that for my sake," he tells you, crossing his arms again, this time like he's almost trying to protect himself from you. "I know you took the blame for me missing all my meetings while sick, and I know you try to deal with all kinds of bullshit because you don't want people to think the Devil hired someone without a backbone."

The words strike a chord with you that you didn't realize even existed. Did you do that? If you think about it, you can see why your boss would think so. Day in and day out, no matter how much attitude you gave to whoever you were talking to, you still stayed and dealt with the problem so that the others would find you reliable—so that they wouldn't have to bring it to Jun.

You also took the blame for the missed meetings because Jun's health wasn't anyone's business, not until he made it clear it was okay to share with others, anyway. No one needed to know he missed a few meetings without notice.

"So… don't do that," Jun says, sighing. "Assholes—whether in Heaven or Hell—they're always going to try and give you a hard time because they're too scared to say it to my face. And I know without a doubt that you can handle it, but… you're not my shield, okay?"

"Okay."

"I know you were about to rip that prick a new asshole," he continues, making you smile, "but I want you to feel like you can do that from the jump if you need to. Next time, just tell him to fuck off. Or hang up. Or bring me in. Whatever. If anyone has an issue with the way you work, they can talk to me. Just… don't sit there and take it."

You nod slowly. "Alright, I won't… thanks."

"Mhm."

"Hey, Junnie," you say suddenly, taking advantage of his sudden willingness to talk to you now. He hums again, nodding for you to go on, his eyes skimming every surface of your face. It isn't until this moment that you realize he hasn't properly looked at you in a week. "Um. Are we good?"

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You've just been…" you trail off, shrugging. "I don't know, a little cold lately?" You hate how pathetic and whiny it makes you sound. "And if it's because I did something wrong, well, I would just like to remind you that our agreement can only be terminated by my death, the collapse of reality, or mutual agreement."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, but his expression stays serious and he keeps taking his time watching you. So much time, you start to wring your hands nervously. Finally, when he seems to be finished with studying every last millimeter of your face, he shakes his head.

"You haven't done anything wrong," he assures you, sounding tired. "I was just feeling weird. I'm okay, though. We're okay. You don't have to worry about termination. You've made it clear I'm stuck with you."

You grin, nodding. "Good. Because I have grown very accustomed to my unlimited interior design budget and my 1,000-thread-count sheets."

He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure you have. Now go schedule me a coffee chat with God and Joshua for tomorrow, please. Move things around if you must. I'm sure Brayden has gone crying about it to Mommy by now."

You laugh. "Will do."

You leave his office feeling lighter than you have all week.

DAY THIRTY-SEVEN

Jun: where tf r u Me: have a dr appt!!! Jun: what why r u ok Jun: i'll come over Me: no it's ok it's just a check-up Jun: liar we don't do check-ups in hell Me: yeah well i am human and i need a check-up Jun: u sure ur ok? Me: yes! i'll be in the office soon. Jun: fine… if a few hellhounds find u just send them back Me: bruh Me: did you give the dogs my scent to find me??? Jun: u never wake up before me let alone leave the house before me Me: you could have just called Jun: k wtvr noted Me: 23 HELLHOUNDS IS NOT A FEW JUNNIE WTF Jun: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP JUST SEND THEM BACK

"His Infernal Majesty seems to be very… protective over you," the doctor observes, still clearly annoyed with having 23 fire-breathing Hellhounds at her door.

You wave a hand and laugh uncomfortably. "Oh, he's just a very concerned and, uh, considerate person."

The doctor just stares. "The Devil. Considerate. Right."

"Um. So anyway," you clear your throat, desperate to change the subject. "Do you have experience with humans?"

"No, but I will do everything I can to ensure you leave healthy." Her voice is stern and uncompromising, and you suddenly feel like you're in a principal's office rather than a doctor's. She sits down on a rolling stool, scoots closer to the table you're perched on, and mutters, "Wouldn't want more Hellhounds plowing my door down, ready to melt my face off because the Devil's charge was unhappy."

You shift on the table a bit uncomfortably but smile. It's clear that she will not be forgetting about the 23 Hellhounds sent to her office just because a human wasn't in bed when the Devil woke up anytime soon. Not while you're still in her office, at least.

Jun wouldn't do anything to her anyway. You'd probably just go to a doctor on Earth next time if Hell's medical services weren't sufficient.

"So what brings you in today?" she sighs, crossing her legs and folding her hands over her knees.

"Right, so I experienced something weird yesterday," you start. "I had a stressful workplace issue and my body reacted very unexpectedly, and I now require medical attention."

The doctor frowns, rolling closer to you on her stool. "Okay, if you're comfortable, can you describe the stressful event and how your body reacted?"

"Well, an angel was harassing the front desk so they had him talk to me, and then he started saying all this foul shit—"

"Brayden."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Yes! How did you know?"

"He's called every department of this Devil-forsaken hellscape," she says, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "How is a demon doctor supposed to get an archangel a meeting with the Devil?"

You scoff. "Well, he's not an archangel, and it was just a coffee chat."

The doctor snorts, and as you watch her terse personality start to melt, you deem it safe to dive into the full story. By the end of it, she's clapping and giggling, a massive difference from when she was forced to face 23 Hellhounds.

"Wow, that's very attractive of His Infernal Majesty."

You frown. "What?"

She raises an eyebrow at you. "You don't think so?"

"Uh…" You're stumped.

It's not that you've never found anyone attractive… actually, it absolutely is that you've never found anyone attractive.

You tried dating but stopped years ago when you recognized that you were doing it because you felt an obligation to. All your friends were dating or in long-term committed relationships—or at the very least, sleeping around. Dating apps seemed like something you were supposed to do. You quickly shut that idea down. Romance wasn't a hole you've felt in your life so it's not one you lingered on or thought about often. Sure, you knew when people were beautiful or handsome or hot or cute—you know without a doubt that Jun is all of the above. But attraction is harder. You're not sure you've ever felt it.

"You've never felt attraction." Your eyes widen at the demon physician.

"Can you read minds?"

She snorts. "No. I can read your face." She narrows her eyes at you and nods. "And I think I know what happened to you."

"But I haven't given you my symptoms."

"Let me guess," she says, crossing her arms and scooting her stool back so she can lean against the counter behind her. "Elevated heart rate, flushing, perspiration… maybe some pain in the abdominal area or… lower."

You stare at her. "Are you sure you can't read my mind?"

She smirks. "I'm sure, human." She sighs. "You're going to be perfectly fine. Though I do recommend you explore options for therapy."

You startle. "What? Why?"

"Because what you felt was arousal," she reveals, "and I'm guessing you might need someone to process those thoughts about your boss with and it will not be me."

You choke on nothing, triggering a coughing attack that lasts embarrassingly long. When you finally stop, your chest is heaving and the doctor is staring at you blankly.

"Are you done?"

"Coughing? Yes. With you? Absolutely not," you inform her, ignoring the way she sighs like this is an inconvenience. "What do you mean arousal?"

"I mean, you found His Infernal Majesty's defense of you attractive and your body responded accordingly. Very strongly—much more strongly than anyone else probably would—but accordingly."

Your face turns Hellfire hot, and you wish the dogs had barbecued you while they were here.

"You have nothing to worry about as far as your health is concerned. These feelings are very natural." She thinks for a moment before adding: "For humans. Demons are better at discretion."

"But… he was just being nice… why would that be attractive?"

She shrugs. "The bar is in Hell, literally."

"Oh god…" you murmur. Is this what happened to your friends when they insisted that a man paying half the bill after ordering several cocktails to their one water was modern day romance?

"I will say…" she starts, looking a little hesitant as she does.

"You can say it," you encourage her. "I won't tell anyone. HIPAA, right?"

"One, that's an American thing, and two, that's meant to protect the patient's privacy, not the other way around."

"Whatever," you sigh. "You get it."

"Between us girls," she says, even though you two aren't even of the same species. It makes you smile. "I understand why your body would react the way it did. It is quite nice to feel protected and safe."

"Protected and safe," you echo quietly.

"Mhm. Has anyone ever made you feel that?"

The answer comes to you fast. No. No one has ever made you feel protected or safe. That has been your own responsibility since you were four. Still, it takes you a moment to answer because you realize that although that would've been the answer a few months ago, it's more complicated now.

Now, the answer is: no. No one has ever made you feel that way. Not until Jun.

"Can I have a referral to that therapist?"

She smiles. "I'll give you a list of recs, but this isn't that putrid Hell hole you call Earth; you don't need a referral to seek healthcare."

"Right."

When you get into the office and Jun apologizes for the Hellhounds and asks if everything was fine at the doctor's (and if he needs to throw anyone into a vat of boiling oil), you feel your symptoms again. And you know Hell's doctor is right.

DAY FORTY-TWO

Hell is closed tomorrow, and it's all thanks to you. You hope that you'll be included in some sort of history book for this. Every demon you've come across has made it clear that you deserve to be anyway. Because after the debacle with Soonyoung's day off and a single complaint you made to Jun about how Hell doesn't have enough paid holidays, the underworld now has Demon Appreciation Day (DAD!), an unprecedented day off for all of Hell's employees as a thank you for their hard work terrorizing humans.

Unfortunately, it also means the damned souls get a break from torment, but Jeonghan, Chief Torment and Innovation Officer, has assured Jun he's already on it, figuring out ways to automate torture for one day so that the worst human beings in history do not get a break ever again.

"What are you going to do for DAD?" Soonyoung asks the current watercooler demon on shift as soon as she's done small talking a damned soul to tears.

"I'm going to abstain from speaking to anyone." You smile at the answer as you get your own cup of water.

"Oh," Soonyoung chirps, nodding slowly. She glares at him and he immediately walks away, beckoning you to hurry. "We don't want to mess with Jeongyeon when her social battery is dead." You wave bye to her and she winks at you. You know very well her social battery is always dead around Soonyoung no matter what. "Anyway, what are you, our amazing Queen of DAD, going to do on your day off?"

"Queen is a little excessive," you say, not very keen on taking a title that would encroach on any of Jun's millions, even as a joke. "Maybe mayor."

Soonyoung clearly doesn't like the suggested edit, scoffing. "No. Queen is fitting."

You roll your eyes. "Sure."

"What? It is! You're the reason we have our first mandated day off ever!" the demon reminds you. His mouth twists into a mischievous smirk now. "Plus, with all the rumors going 'round, 'queen' is perfect for our king."

You stop in your tracks. "What?"

He giggles so obnoxiously, you slap his arm more out of reflex than anything else. He gasps, rubbing the spot dramatically. "What?! I'm just the messenger! Everyone is talking about it."

"About what?"

"About how His Infernal Majesty must be in love with you if he's willing to create an entire day off just for you."

The words make your stomach jump into your throat. Ever since your appointment, you've been paying extra attention to your feelings, and you're convinced you actually have no idea what anything feels like. Have you ever properly known what you were feeling? What is a feeling anyway?

When Jun ripped the blankets off you in the morning, did you feel annoyed, furious, or helpless?

When Jun wordlessly handed you your coffee, did you feel grateful, enamored, or nothing at all because you were still half asleep?

When he wrapped his long ass fingers around your wrist to travel to Earth for summonings, did you feel giddy, excited, or grateful that you wouldn't be alone at home?

When Soonyoung says that there are rumors that Jun is in love with you, do you feel confused, anxious, or endlessly irritated with the demon?

Since you haven't had a chance to see a therapist, you pick the last one.

You scoff. "It isn't for me, you idiot. I just floated the idea by him."

"And any idea you float by him becomes a fully fleshed out thing by the end of the day."

"Okay, so he's a good and receptive boss."

His eyebrows rise at that. "He's the Devil."

Touché. "It's ridiculous."

"That he loves you to the point of invention? No, I d—"

You shove him into the wall, effectively making him spill his water all over himself. "Hey! You can't just go hitting people f—"

"Actually, I can!" you correct him, walking away. "Jun explicitly gave me permission to do whatever the fuck I want! So take it up with him!"

What a ridiculous rumor from an even more ridiculous demon.

Of all the much cooler rumors that could've been made, that one is the one they settled on? If you knew that's the news that would be spreading, you would've started your own rumors about yourself. Like you're actually God's super cool daughter and this is just a nepotism internship before you become the heiress of Heaven. Or that Hell is just a simulation being run by a crazy scientist named Jun and your arrival marks the imminent end of the experiment—an antichrist of sorts. Kind of poetic.

But the Devil being in love with his assistant? Both impossible and cliche and scary to think about because you don't think you'd be able to pick up on it even if it were possible.

When you return home, you're debating telling Jun about this rumor just to watch him stutter and squirm and turn red (and maybe make plans to disembowel a demon or two), but that's all forgotten when you find your boss back early from a meeting with God he took in purgatory. And endearingly enough, he's sprawled across the couch with both Lock and Key on his stomach and leg respectively, all three of them fast asleep.

You grin, taking several photos before you pocket your phone and watch his chest rise and fall, slowly coming to the realization that Jun needed this break too. You've never seen the man nap, and up until the day he got sick, you were still convinced he never even slept at all. If he's taking a nap, you know it's because he badly needs it. You're determined to leave him be, but you hear your name just as you're about to leave the living room.

"Hey," you greet him, smiling at how confused and sleepy he looks as he lifts his head and stares at his pets. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head, letting it plop back onto the couch when it's clear Lock and Key have no intention of moving. "No, I've been napping long enough," he says, his voice deep and gravely with sleep. You shift your weight from foot to foot as he continues speaking, settling for squeezing your thighs together when your sudden discomfort isn't alleviated. Oh god. Is this arousal again? "God cancelled last minute." He yawns, mouth opening comically wide. "Something about a miracle gone wrong."

"Ah," you nod, walking over to the three of them and taking the empty sectional by his head while you try to get yours to shut up. "What are your plans for this rare afternoon off then?" you ask. "And for DAD?"

Jun tilts his head up to look at you. "Stop calling it that," he deadpans.

"No," you say simply. "It's my holiday and I will call it what I want."

You expect him to point out it isn't your holiday; after all, you aren't even a demon. You're just the catalyst behind something that was a long time coming. But the argument doesn't come. Instead, your boss sighs and straightens his head again, staring at the ceiling.

"Fair enough, I suppose."

You raise your eyebrows, smiling. You're about to point out he basically just agreed that it's your holiday when you hear Soonyoung's stupid voice in the back of your mind. He created a holiday for you. Is that not a man who loves you?

You shudder, shaking a little like that will exorcise the demon from your subconscious.

"You okay?" Jun asks, looking back up at you.

"Huh? Yeah." You struggle to wipe the frown off your face before looking down at the Devil. "Want dinner?"

"Hot pot?"

"I've made hot pot several times this month," you groan. "Are you not tired of it?"

He looks at you like you're crazy. "No?" He sits up abruptly without removing Lock from his stomach first, and the cat releases an ear-piercing yowl before jumping off him. Key follows suit as Jun pulls his legs away and plants his feet on the floor. "You humans tire of things so fast. It's why you're all so vulnerable to temptation."

"Pfft. Me? Prone to temptation?" You pause and think of all the material things you've forced Jun to buy you under the guise of it being absolutely necessary for your productivity as his assistant. You shrug. "Okay, yeah. That is true."

Jun smirks and shakes his head. "Come on. Let's eat."

You nod, following him as he gets up ahead of you and walks into the kitchen. You slow at the door when you find him leaning his back against the fridge, his arms crossed and his lips pursed. He's blushing slightly, and he looks like he almost regrets doing this.

"Happy DAD, I guess."

The kitchen is decorated in every possible shade of pink you've ever seen—balloons, streamers, tinsel, confetti, a sign that says Demon Human Appreciation Day! And in the middle of the kitchen island is a cake, and just looking at it, you know it's not like the blood-based desserts that the demons around here like to indulge in.

"I never had a meeting with God," Jun mutters. "I just had you put that in for me. I was actually meeting Joshua to get this. It's angel cake. Actual angel cake. They use stardust sugar, moon milk, morning dew, and cloudberries. Figured you'd prefer this over devil's cake… actual devil's cake."

You stare at it, decorated beautifully with piped frosting and fresh berries. It's a pale pink—so pale, it looks white compared to the other shades that litter the space—and its frosting just barely glitters under the light. The top reads, Best Human Ever.

"Of course, the angels chose the message. To be clear, I would never call you the best."

You're finally snapped out of your daze at the words, which prompt you to roll your eyes. "Yes because you would use something much better. Like Most Perfect Human Ever, right, Junnie?"

His blush deepens and he glares at the wall across from him. "No."

You look around, stunned by the display of appreciation, especially for someone who was technically just fulfilling her part of the contract. You've never even gotten a birthday party thrown for you, and the happiness you're filled with threatens to strangle you. You swallow the knot forming in your throat, thinking that maybe DAD is your favorite holiday.

"Can I hug you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh come on!" you whine, already walking to him with open arms. "You can't do something so kind and cute and wonderful and not accept a hug!"

He backs away from you, hands splayed in front of him to keep you away. "The Devil doesn't do hugs."

"The Devil probably also doesn't have a history of showing his assistant appreciation," you point out. "Or securing her an angel cake she's going to eat in one sitting!"

Jun pauses, frowning. "One sitting?! It's meant to serve 10 people!"

"Give me a hug!" you shriek, jumping at him.

He, of course, disappears. You stumble into the space he was just standing in and gasp in mock offense at being evaded. You spin around, pouting, and find him right behind you, glaring. You sigh.

"Okay, if you're really not consenting to a hug, I will not force you into one. But if you're just being an emotionally constipated weirdo, I would ask that you suppress that for DAD and allow just one—" You hold up one finger for emphasis. "—hug. Please."

Jun's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows nothing, his eyes zoning out on something above your head. He shakes his head and sighs. "Fine. One hug, bu—oof."

You don't wait for him to finish his sentence, hugging him so tightly, you immediately start sweating from the heat radiating through his clothes. But you don't care, tightening your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek as far into his chest as it will go. You're on the verge of tears and your boss doesn't need to see it.

When he realizes you fully intend on making your hug last more than a millisecond, a single hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, thumb hesitantly sweeping back and forth in a comforting caress.

For the first time in several days, you don't bother to check in with your feelings and you decide maybe it's time to stop. Because this just feels nice, and if it feels nice, then that's all you want to know. Everything else is noise that threatens to pop this bubble of safety you're in—Jun's arms. You decide then that the nuances of your happiness are none of your business as long as you are happy. Happy. Something you're starting to think you've never fully been now that you've truly experienced it here, in Hell.

"Thank you, Junnie," you mumble against his chest. You know it's easy to tell you've been brought to tears from the way your watery voice trembles, but thankfully, the Devil doesn't point it out. "You don't know how much this means to me."

He sighs, squeezing your shoulder. "I think I do." After a moment, he adds: "Thanks for everything you do for Hell… and for me. You are very…" He clears his throat uncomfortably, "… appreciated here."

You smile, sighing as you finally pull away from him, wiping at your eyes discreetly as you do. "Thank you. Now let me make you hot pot and let's eat this cake."

You turn away fast to hide your glassy eyes, missing the way Jun rests a palm to his chest where you had just been pressed against him.

A/N: again, this is already done and tumblr just kept me from keeping this a one shot bc of its 1000 block limit bc it HATES ME! i've queued the next part to release this wed 7/1 so pls stay tuned! :)

Neither of you say anything for a few seconds, you don’t know what to say. You’re pissed off he’s made you wait. But can you really be mad at a man that looks like that? Because he’s big, bigger than you even imagined. Not that you’ve spent much time thinking about the body of the drummer of your favourite band. You’ve definitely not searched Choi Seungcheol arms over a hundred times on pinterest. Absolutely not. 

“You’re not Woozi ,” He smirks, his gaze assessing you from head to toe as he leans on the door frame with his big, muscley, perfect, biteable arms folded. Fuck you need to stop looking at them, but they’re just so big.

“N-no,” Damn, his smirk only grows because of your stuttering. “You need to sign this.” 

“There’s no fans allowed into the hotel.”

“I’m not a fan.” 

“Sure you’re not. Listen, unless you want to join us, or wait for her to leave and then come in and get a taste of this," he gestures at his body, "I suggest you fuck off and crawl back under whatever weird little rock you came from. Breaking into a hotel is stalker behaviour." His smile is one of sarcasm and it’s at that moment you suddenly realise that the drummer from your favourite band is a fucking asshole. 

“I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.” You smile back, enjoying seeing him falter a little, “You or rather your friend needs to sign this. I’m Woozi’s new assistant. I’d ask if you could shout your friend out here for me but I presume you don’t know her name, so can I come in?” 

You don’t wait for an answer. Just push past him, ignoring how his skin seems to be as soft as a baby's, and storm into the room to find the poor girl who needs to sign the NDA in your hand. 

“Hi,” 

“Who’s she?”

“He doesn’t know my name, just like he probably doesn’t know yours. And honestly you seem much too pretty a girl to be treated that way.” 

They both look at you a little shocked but you don’t care. 

You scan around the room, noting how they’ve clearly had quite the night if the various pieces of clothing around multiple surfaces are anything to go by. You can’t help scrunch your nose a little in disgust when you see three used condoms thrown messily near the bin. You suppose you should be thankful for small mercies, at least he’s not riddling the poor women with diseases and he’s saved an unsuspecting cleaner the trouble of cleaning cum stains off the floor because the idiot has tied a knot in them. 

Woozi said he hated having to ask you to do this but there’d been an emergency with the guys taking the stage down in Osaka, ready for you all to move onto Tokyo, and he needed to rush off. You get why he hates it, it’s like making sex a business transaction and you’re the one who’s having to facilitate it. But if you didn’t, you risk the band’s secrets being spilled and then every fan in the world would have the same realisation as you. That Seungcheol is a prick. 

“He knows my name,” She narrows her eyes at you but you’re just trying to ignore the little marks Seungcheol has left behind on her neck and breasts. Her only being in her underwear makes it easier to see them and the sight leaves a weird feeling in your stomach even though you’ve just recently decided you hate him. 

She turns to Seungcheol, waiting for him to say that he obviously knows the name of the woman he’s spent the night with. 

You wish you had her blind optimism. 

“S-sure! It’s er…….well it’s er………J….” His “friend's” eyes get wider as he tries to ask if it starts with a J and your heart sinks for her. 

You’re all for one night stands. Or not having one night stands. It’s up to whoever it is. But you know if any of the people you’d slept with did what he’s doing right now, you’d feel fucking horrible. 

“Could you just sign this please?” You say softly, trying to ignore the clear awkwardness you’ve helped contribute to. Fuck you shouldn’t have said that about names, you were just pissed at him being an asshole by the door. 

“No. He can tell me my name.” 

You inwardly grown. You love that she’s standing up for herself but you’d rather be back in the hallway whilst she did it. 

“Baby,” He smiles, moving towards her, “we just met last night!” 

“And yet I’ve had your dick in my mouth. I tend to like to know the names of people whose dick I’ve had in my mouth. And as your tongue has been in my ass hole, I presumed you’d know mine” 

Well shit. 

You decide to appraise a very odd looking stain on the ceiling and ignore whatever is unfolding in front of you. 

“I didn’t……..Did I?......Oh shit, yeah I remember…….NO!” He rushes but it’s too late. 

“You’ve already forgotten what happened between us?!!! You literally had your tongue down my throat a minute before she came in here.” 

Is there anywhere in this poor woman Seungcheol hasn’t had his tongue?!

You resist giving her a piece of your mind for the way she said “she” and continue assessing what you think might be a wine stain on the ceiling, though how it got there you don’t know. 

“Tell me my name and I’ll sign it.” 

You glance at Seungcheol, you can tell he’s panicking but you’ve never met either of them until about three minutes ago, so it’s not like you could help even if you wanted to. 

When you move over to the desk to get a pen, hoping Seunghceol may somehow remember this woman’s name in this lifetime, you spot her small card holder by her phone. A small card holder holding her drivers license. You hate having to help him, you’d much rather see him suffer but you do technically now have to have his best interests at heart. You don’t suppose your job with Woozi will last very long if you allow this woman to decimate the character of one of the band members. 

You glance round, noting she hasn’t moved and does still have her back to you, just as Seungcheol’s panicked eyes find you and he realises what you’re doing. 

Slowly, you pick up her wallet and move the license up a little. It feels less like a complete disregard for her privacy and not so big a break in girl code to not fully take it out of the card holder. 

“SORA” You mouth dramatically to Seungcheol whilst he tries to act natural. But him fucking squinting like he doesn’t understand isn’t helping. 

“SAW,” You mouth, mimicking sawing something in half, “RAAAAA.” 

This is fucking stupid and more than a little demeaning. But the big idiot still doesn’t get it. 

“SAAAAAAAAW,” You try to act out seeing something in the distance but she turns around and you have to suddenly act natural, holding her card holder behind your back. 

“Well?! MY NAME SEUNGCHEOL?!” She whips round back to him. 

“SORA.” You mouth in the biggest way you can. 

“So…..” You put your thumbs up and mouth it again, “So…ra…..Sora! You’re Sora! See! I never forget a name.” He grins.

You roll your eyes and quickly throw the card holder back just before she turns to check you’ve not helped him in some way. 

Fucking moran. He behaves like a chauvinistic pig and yet still somehow gets away with it. 

“Could you sign this?” You pear round her with the paper and pen in your hand. 

“Like I’d want to tell anyone about being anywhere near him.” She snarls, much to Seungcheol’s shock. 

He can’t honestly think she believes he remembered her name? He cannot be that arrogant to think she’d let what just happened slide and continue fawning over him like she no doubt was last night. 

She snatches the paper and pen from your hand and marches over to the desk to fill out her name and sign it. You follow Seungcheol’s gaze and note he’s not got a care in the world that he’s probably ruined poor Sora’s whole week. He’s too busy eyeing her ass hungrily, his busy tongue licking his lips like she's lunch. 

What. An. Asshole. 

“Here.” She slams the paper into your chest and throws the pen at your head. 

There is no need for that. And you’re ready to tell her so before Seungcheol pipes up. 

“Hey, leave your number. We come back to Osaka every tour y’know.” He leers at her as she quickly gets dressed. 

“Get fucked.” 

And with that she’s gone in a waft of floral perfume and anger. 

“Oh and!” She shouts from the doorway, “Your dick isn’t as big as you say it is!”

The door slams behind her and you both just stand in silence. 

“That is not true and the way she was waddling proves it.” 

“You’re disgusting.” You glare at him. 

“You shouldn’t speak to your boss like that,” he smirks, clearly not affected by a thing that's just happened. 

“You’re not my boss. Woozi is.” 

“He works for us.” He scoffs. 

“You’re signed to his and Jeonghan’s company. They own the company. My contract is with him specifically. I have nothing to do with you.” 

“I always like a hot nerd.” He creeps closer. 

“Well. I imagine most of the world’s population could be classed as a nerd if they’re comparing themselves to your intelligence.” 

You march out of the room. You don’t need a response from him, you’ve already made your mind up about him. Choi Seungcheol is a womanising lowlife who you never want to speak to again. You will never let him anywhere near you, not even if he was the last man on earth.

Tokyo 

“Did something happen between you and Seungcheol?” Woozi asks, somewhat apprehensively. 

You’re sitting in his suite with him and Jeonghan, all three of you with laptops out, trying to plan schedules for recording the new album and deciding which brand deals, out of the influx of offers that have come in recently, any of the guys should do. 

It’s only been five days since you started working for Woozi but you’ve found him to be the complete opposite of Seungcheol. In fact you’ve found that almost everyone on the staff is the opposite of Seungcheol. Every single person, including the other band members, have made you feel nothing but welcome, each of them coming over to introduce themselves and offer help if you need it. 

The same cannot be said for Seungcheol. 

He has been the most petulant idiot you’ve ever met. 

He purposefully asked you where a man called Jihoon was in front of everyone, having not uttered a word to you since the little debacle in his suite. When you told him you didn’t know who Jihoon was, he humiliated you in front of the whole band and the stylists by replying “oh right yeah, I forgot Woozi only tells people he likes his real name.”. Nobody laughed, they all just looked perplexed at what the hell was going on as you both glared at each other. They didn’t even realise you’d been introduced, let alone already seemingly enemies. 

You got him back though. Sort of. 

You’d had to travel between Osaka and Tokyo with Seungcheol and Woozi because Seungcheol was designing new bass drum skins and you’d be the one putting the order in. As Hoshi had already gone ahead for an event and the two other members tended to like to travel with their girlfriends, you’d ended up with the king of the boneheads. 

Just as you saw him taking a gulp of his drink out of the corner of your eye (and checked there were no cars behind you), you shouted out that there was a cat in the road. The driver slammed on and poor old Seungcheol ended up covered in coffee. 

It did somewhat backfire on you though. He had sent his bags in one of the other cars and because his sweater was covered in coffee, he decided it was probably best that he just not wear anything at all and opted to discard his sweater completely. You tried your best not to look at him, really you did, but you couldn’t help glancing at him. His knowing smirks and the constant need to catch yourself before you looked at him again, made that seven hour car journey feel like days. 

“No.” You glance at him before going back to your laptop, “Why?” 

“He’s just being……odd.” 

“Is he not odd all the time?” Jeonghan snorts at that and you feel a weird sense of pride that you’ve managed to fit in with them so quickly. 

“She’s got a point there.” 

“I guess. He just seems different.” 

You feel a weird twinge in your stomach at that, a slight panic that there’s something wrong or going on with him. Though you’re not sure why you care, he’s nothing but an ass to you. 

Maybe it’s because of what happened in his suite that first morning? He doesn’t like that you saw him being humiliated and now he’s being weird because of it. But he didn’t seem bothered by it at the time so why would he care after the fact. 

“There was a girl in his suite when you got me to take the NDA to him, maybe it’s that.” 

“_____,” Jeonghan smiles knowingly, “I’d be more surprised if there wasn’t. I don’t think he’s ever been alone in a hotel room in all the years we’ve been doing this.” 

That leaves a sour taste on your tongue but you know it has no right to be there. 

“She wasn’t exactly…..kind….to him when she left. He’d forgotten her name and she didn’t really like that,” 

“Ugh Seungcheol,” Woozi leans back in his seat, wiping his face with his hands, “when will he grow out of all this bullshit!” 

“I agree with you but that doesn’t explain what’s going on with those two,” Jeonghan points at you. 

“Well. Well. I might’ve called him disgusting?.” Your cheeks heat when neither of them give any sort of reaction. 

You jump slightly when laughter ripples through the air and they both beam at you. 

“I think you’ll fit in well here ______.” Woozi smiles whilst Jeonghan nods along. 

You smile and sheepishly say thank you but you can’t help feeling weird. Something isn’t sitting right with you at all and you’re certain it’s down to Seungcheol. It’s probably hatred and the fact his voice sounds like nails down a chalk board. Yeah…… That’ll be it. It’s definitely nothing else. 

One of the main reasons you were excited for this job was because you genuinely loved the band. You were a fan of their music, I fan of their style, you just loved everything about them. You didn’t even really have a favourite, they just all seemed like great guys who made amazing music and that was it. You’d told Woozi you liked the band during your interview and he said it was a good thing, it meant you’d care about your work and so far, that is proving to be true. 

You’re standing at the side of the stage watching as thousands of screaming fans sing every word back to Shadow as they perform. That would've been you, in total awe of them as they rocked out in front of tens of thousands of fans. 

But instead. You're standing glaring at the drummer whose arms glisten with sweat every time he strikes a cymbal and who you're desperately trying not to look at. But you can't help. He's gone too far. 

About twenty minutes before they were due to go on stage, the whole crew was gathering for a team talk. It was everyone. Stylists, security, fuck you're certain even the guys that print the lanyards were there. 

But one person that wasn't, was you. 

He was holding the door open for one of the makeup artists to go into the large shared dressing room. You knew he was going to do something, he'd seen you walking towards him. You know he had because he'd made a point of checking out the makeup artist's ass and then directly looked at you with a smarmy smile. 

You braced yourself for the door closing on you or him sticking out his foot to trip you up. But he took it a step further, a step too far. 

“Where are you going?" Seungcheol blocks off the doorway as he leans on it. 

"To the team meeting,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. Surely it's fucking obvious where you're going. 

"Why?” 

"Because it's a whole team meeting. Move out of the way please.” Adding the please is done begrudgingly but he is still a member of the band and so you can't just tell him to fuck off and kick him in the balls how you'd like to. 

"But you're not part of the team.” 

"What?” You frown, "Move please, I don't want to be late.” 

"You can't be late for something you're not invited to. You told me yourself, you work for Woozi. Everyone in here is part of team Shadow,” he declares like it's obvious, "guess you're not part of any team.” He sighs. 

Embarrassment creeps up your spine. You're certain Woozi would be expecting you to be there but short of pushing past him and making a scene, you're not entirely sure how to get round this. 

“You've had your joke," you mumble, “come on move, we'll be late." 

“I will be late, you mean. You're probably early to whatever plans you have for the evening. There's probably some private moment going on that you can shoe horn your way into and make ten times worse.” 

You stare at him. Both of you almost challenging the other to look away but the difference? He holds all the cards and he knows it. You don't win in this situation. If you tell him to fuck off, he'll say you've been unprofessional and no doubt tell Woozi and you lose the best job you've ever had. Or you don't tell him to fuck off and you have to walk away in embarrassment. 

"Is Woozi in there?” 

"I mean yeah, we're all one big family really.” He shrugs, “It'd be weird if he wasn't there.” He insisted, his smirk only getting more annoying. 

Part of you wants to punch him, to put this arrogant rock star in his place. But there's a weird feeling in your chest too, that you can't quite figure out what it means. 

He doesn't stop looking at you, his smirk never faltering. But you just pull your sweater over your hands and avert your eyes, pretending to look past him and like this isn't making you want to cry. 

“Bye then." You say quietly, sending him a false smile but still not looking him in the eye. 

You wander down the corridor to the side of the stage and hope you find something there that'll occupy you when the “one big family" all turn up to start the concert. At least then if Woozi asks where you were you can say you were caught up with something. 

Seungcheol watches you leave pretty pleased that he's got the upper hand. He'd been enjoying the little back and forth you guys had been having the past few days. And if he's honest, he wants to get you back for the other morning. You were fucking annoying and ever since he's had this need to get a rise out of you. 

But as he watches you walk off, he gets a weird feeling in his chest that unsettles him. His smirk leaves and his eyebrows inadvertently knit together. He got this feeling when you called him disgusting too, though he ignored it then and tried to put it down to his hangover. Add that to the leaping feeling he had in his stomach when something the driver said made you laugh, he's starting to get a little worried about all these unknown feelings he's having. 

This must be what hatred feels like. The sound of your laugh must physically cause him pain and the feelings in his chest are just pure annoyance when you're around. Yeah. That’ll be it. It's the only logical explanation. 

“You know we don't object to workplace relationships,” You jump a little, you hadn't realised Jeonghan was so close to you. 

"What do you mean?” You avert your eyes to him but quickly refocus on the band. 

"You and Cheol, you keep staring at each other and I think even Woozi's realised there's a tension there and he's normally so lost in schedules and shit, he doesn't realise anything.” 

"I don't stare.” You snap. 

"Whatever you say,” Jeonghan smirks, "I know he's got a reputation but he's one of the kindest guys you'll ever meet under all that swagger.” 

You wonder how much Seungcheol pays people to lie for him. You've got proof he's not a kind person, and you do not believe that he doesn't live up to that "reputation” Jeonghan is referring to. Both you and Sora can attest to that. 

"There's no tension. I'm just trying to do my job.” 

"Okie dokie.” Jeonghan smiles though you can tell he’s not convinced at all. "Oh! And we missed you at the staff meeting! You don't have to work so hard!.” 

You watch as Jeonghan glides away. It relieves a few of the worries you'd had about not being missed at the meeting, at least there seems to be people who are genuinely looking out for you. But it just makes you more pissed at the drummer who adverts his eyes the second you look back over to him. 

This can't all be because of that first day. He's taken an instant dislike to you and, to be honest, you feel exactly the same way. 

One thing is for sure. You won't let him win.

Bangkok 

And so for the next three weeks of the Asia leg of the tour, a battle ensues. You both happen to be at breakfast at the same time? You’re making sure that you take the last of the muesli he likes. He notices that you’re carrying a heavy bag? He’ll purposefully pick out another member of staff who is also carrying something and make a grand gesture of asking if they need help, right in front of your face. 

Everyone knew what was going on. It was like the both of you couldn’t hear a conversation going on with the other without passive aggressively butting in. 

“Do you want to try this hat for the magazine cover?” 

“Are you sure that would fit over his enormously oversized head?” You’d chide as the room erupted in laughter and Seungcheol glared at you through the mirror. 

Or. 

“______ seriously you’ve got me so organised I’m running out of things to worry about.” Woozi beamed at you. 

“Pretty easy to be so anal about shit when she’s got a permanent stick up her ass.” 

It was just an everyday part of your life now. Wake up, make sure Woozi has everything he needs and then go out of your way to piss off Seungcheol. His schedule seemed pretty much the same except where you organised Woozi, he played for thousands of fans and partied until the early hours. 

And it’s his partying, or rather the whole group partying, which is putting you in a situation you didn’t really want to be in right now. 

Seungcheol had used your dislike for partying when he was trying his best to embarrass you in front of everyone. The trouble for him was that you didn’t care what he thought about you in that respect. You’d never been one for huge crowds of drunk people, it just wasn’t for you. You loved socialising, you loved going out with friends for drinks or good food but being in a confined space with a bunch of sweaty drunk people? You’d really rather sit in a bath of ice. 

But this was the last night of the Asia tour. It was a big deal and even though you’d told Seungcheol to get fucked when he’d called you boring for not going, it turned out you weren’t going to get away with it so easily. Woozi made you promise you’d join them all for one drink at least and your best friend at home had made you promise you’d put yourself out there more just before you started this job. You didn’t need to make sure everything is ready for the next day or spend your time writing in your diary, or any of the other one hundred things you could think of doing to avoid situations you felt uncomfortable in. You just needed to be brave enough to actually go.

So with Woozi’s promise that you only had to stay for one drink and your best friend’s words whirring round your mind, you find yourself standing in front of the mirror in your room, not knowing whether you’re even dressed right. You know you can’t wear your usual sweaters or jeans but you didn’t want to seem too over dressed, too out of your comfort zone. 

You’d gone with a leather mini skirt which you didn’t even realise you’d packed, your good old bestie still looking out for you even when she’s not with you, and a tank top that felt too tight but you could work with it and it made your tits look great even if you do say so yourself. You hadn’t brought heels so your trusty doc martens would have to do. It isn’t something you’d wear to a club you suppose but drinking with a rock band? It works. Sort of. You think? 

“Fuck this get a grip _____. No one will even notice you’re there, one drink and then you can come back and pack.” You mumble to yourself as you fix your eyeliner in the mirror. “You’ve got this.” You fake a smile to yourself before you take a deep breath, grab your phone and head to the rooftop bar of the hotel. 

It wasn’t as bad as you thought, you’d had a drink with Dino’s girlfriend who has become a good friend in the month you’ve been on tour with them. And Woozi had made you join him in a dance but it felt very much like dancing with your dad and so you’d spent most of your time laughing with him whilst he showed you how to do the robot. 

You didn’t see Seungcheol. You’re not even sure why you were thinking of him. He was probably with some woman by now already and he wouldn’t want to see you anyway. You tell yourself your eyes scan the room every three minutes because you want to prove a point to him. You want to show him that you’re not as boring as he says you are. But why should you even care what he thinks? It’s probably just because your competitiveness has peaked in this month-long battle with Seungcheol, you just want to show that you won this little challenge. It’s not even really about proving a point to him. It’s about winning. 

You bid your goodbyes to Dino and his girlfriend as they run off giggling after informing you they’re going for a late night swim, and you head towards the elevator. 

“Hold the door please!” You run towards the closing door as a hand stops it and you throw yourself in. 

“Thank you,” you sigh before you realise who it is, “oh.” 

“_____?” Seungcheol saying your name makes you feel weird but it’s probably irritation. That’s the only thing that would explain the goosebumps that’ve erupted all over your body. 

Your eyes drift to the woman in his arm, one of her hands under his shirt, tickling his skin. You get the sudden urge to scratch this woman’s eyes out, a feeling of utter rage coming over you like a dark cloud but you bat it away. You don’t care who touches him. 

His eyes drift over you, his eyebrows knitting together but he snaps back to himself and holds his girl a little closer. 

“Does she work for you?” 

“Nah, she works for Woozi. A professional busy body.” 

You know he’s waiting for your reply but the sight of the woman still touching his skin has you mute. What the fuck is happening and why does it feel like those words he just uttered actually hurt? You’d been tearing shreds off each other for weeks and it hadn’t bothered you. The last time you’d truly felt upset by something he’d done was the staff meeting but you were over that. Now though it just felt like he was being mean for the sake of it and you were so confused by what you were feeling towards him and his “friend” that you can’t even muster a response. 

“You came then?” He smirks when he doesn’t get a response. 

“Oh you’ve been to the party? You didn’t feel like dressing up?” She says in the most sickly sweet way she can. 

Fuck you feel like you’re in school, the resident school bully deciding it’s your turn to feel their nastiness. 

You just glance at both of them and then look forward, willing the elevator to move quicker. 

“It’s no wonder she’s going back to her room alone,” you hear her whisper to Seungcheol, although you’re fairly certain she intended you to hear it. 

Sure you weren’t overly confident in your outfit but the longer the night went on, the more you felt happy in your own skin. Others at the party were dressed like you, you didn’t stand out. If anything it’s her that looks out of place, a sequin dress and sky high slingbacks making her look like a christmas tree. And yet her words are cutting as deep as a knife. 

Your bottom lip threatens to wobble but you stay strong. You won’t break in front of either of them. 

The elevator rings, your floor finally arriving and you rush out without sparing them another glance. 

You don’t see how Seungcheol moves like he wants to say something to you or how once you’re out of the elevator he suddenly distances himself from the woman he was with, much to her confusion. 

You just rush to your room, rub the makeup off your face in a shower that’s so hot it’s only a few degrees below actually burning your skin and spend an hour making sure you’ve packed everything you came with. Making sure the leather skirt is right at the bottom of the pile. Just the sight of it makes you want to melt away in a puddle of embarrassment. 

You’ve so many feelings fighting for supremacy that you don’t know which to focus on most. Sure you’re embarrassed but the thing that’s annoying you is why you hated that woman before she’d even insulted you. You had every reason to loathe her now she’d made you feel like the ugliest runt in the litter but before that you wanted to end her. The second you saw her hands on Seungcheol’s skin you wanted something horrible to happen to her and you can’t explain why. 

You don’t get much sleep after all that. Just toss and turn with her words ringing in your ears as images of her and Seungcheol laughing about how pathetic you are, as they fuck each other race through your mind. 

And what’s even worse. Things are going to get a whole lot more uncomfortable.

Hua Hin- Thailand 

“Ok what's wrong?" 

All four members of Shadow take up a table and four seats on the coach taking them to the Thai resort they'll spend a few days at before the South American leg of the tour begins. It wasn't the whole crew, just the members, girlfriends and managers. And you. At everyone's insistence other than, of course, Seungcheol. 

The four of them had been having a little song writing session as the coach would take four- five hours. But Seungcheol hadn't joined in with any of it, not even when they'd purposely rhymed the same word twice just to annoy him, knowing he hates repeating words when they can't think of a proper rhyming couplet. 

“Nothing." 

“She was that bad?" 

“Who?" 

“Whoever you took back to your room." 

“Oh." He wriggles in his seat, “nothing happened. I asked her to leave, I wasn't in the mood." 

His three friends stare at each other wide eyed. 

“You weren't in the mood?" Dino clarifies. 

“Are you not well?" Hoshi asks. 

“I'm fine! Can't a man just not be in the mood?" His eyes flick up the bus but then back down at the wordless notebook. 

They all turn to look where he just has, knowing looks on their faces when they face each other again. Because it's you. You're who Seungcheol has just glanced at unknowingly and it's you who's been the only woman they've ever seen get under Seungcheol's skin. 

They've seen it happening right in front of their own eyes. How both of you proclaim to hate each other and yet you both search for each other in every room you go in. You both spend each day seeking each other out even if it is to be complete idiots. 

"How do you know when you've gone too far?” 

"What do you mean?” 

"Like when banter becomes bullying?” 

The three exchange looks and Dino kicks Mingyu under the table, silently telling him to take the lead. 

“What makes you ask that?" 

Seungcheol doesn't look up from the paper, instead he decides to just draw little flowers on the pages. But he needs to figure out what's going on, he can't keep feeling all these feelings every day. 

“Last night," he sighs, “that girl, she was really mean to _____. Basically called her ugly." 

“That's fucked up." 

“But…..is it…..is it fucked up that I didn't stick up for her?" 

“Yeah." 

“Dude what the fuck!" Hoshi kicks Dino. 

“What?! I'm just saying if you hear someone say that to anyone unprovoked then you should stick up for them. Unless it's some like seven foot dude with an axe." 

“Why are you and _____ the way you are?" 

“What?" Seungcheol’s eyes snap to Mingyu. 

“She's kind, she's funny, she's a bit shy, sure but she's part of the team. Why are you two the way you are?" 

“We're not like anything. Just normal." 

“We all know that's not true Cheol. There's something about her. And you know it." 

“I can't stand her." 

“Cheol, you look for her in every room apart from when you're partying because you know she's not there." 

“That's because I know she's going to pull some bullshit!" He shouts but lowers his voice when Woozi and Jeonghan turn around, luckily you have your headphones on and are deep in some game on your switch. 

"You've been turning up early to soundcheck then you know you can speak to her or annoy her at least.” 

"I've decided to be more professional,” he shrugs. 

"You're drawing the exact flower she has on her necklace.” 

All four of them look down at the piece of paper. Shit. It is the same flower that you have on a gold chain. You wear it every day, a small golden charm on the necklace, it was a gift from your parents when you graduated. Seungcheol knows that because he heard you tell Jeonghan when he asked about it, he remembers wanting to punch Jeonghan on the nose for daring to take an interest in you. He wanted to ask about it. Not Jeonghan. 

"That's not……I'm not…. Fuck I don't know what to do! I feel weird whenever she's around and I spend most of my time counting down the hours until it's time to meet up with everyone because I want to see her. And taunting her is the only way I think she'll talk to me. Because someone like her isn't going to be interested in me! Fuck the first day we met was because she came to my room and saw exactly how I behave! And I feel like my heart is physically breaking whenever she laughs and jokes with someone else because I want to do that. I want to make her laugh. And she looked so fucking pretty last night but I didn't think she’d come to the party! And I didn't know that woman would be such a bitch to her! And she looked so fucking sad and I did nothing. I'm having all these feelings and I don't know what they are or how to deal with them! I don't even like partying anymore! You know, the other day all I could think about was how much I wanted to just sit with her and hold her and talk to her! I've never just wanted to sit and talk to a woman!”  

He's gasping for breath by the time he's finished. All of them including Woozi and Jeonghan and Dino and Mingyu's girlfriends are looking at him in shock. Thankfully you're still blissfully unaware of the mini breakdown Seungcheol has just had at the back of the coach.  

"You need to tell her.” Dino's girlfriend chimes in kindly. "Not telling her will just make a huge mess.” She looks knowingly at Dino who just sends everyone an embarrassed smile. Everyone knows the chaos that went on between them on the last tour. 

"It's gone too far. Even if it hadn't, it definitely has now. She looked so fucking sad when she left the elevator last night. She isn't going to trust my intentions is she?!” 

"She will.” Mingyu nods. 

"Would you?” Seungcheol asks their girlfriends who are on the table next to them. 

"Well,” they look at each other. "Probably not? But!” Mingyu's girlfriend rushes to say, "I think you need to show her who you really are. Don't just go in with some big confession. She needs to know the real you, the one we all know. Not this idiot who knocked a drink all over her." 

“She did that to me first!" 

“Grow up." She deadpans as Mingyu giggles behind him. 

“How do I show her! I doubt she'll even talk to me." 

"You'll think of something.” 

"Yeah I doubt it," Seungcheol pouts, slamming his pen on the notebook. “I even downloaded a list of the best pickup lines last week when I'd convinced myself to do something. But I'm not gonna be one of those sad acts that creep up on women at bars with some awful line to be laughed at." 

“We're here!" Your voice breaks through the tension as you excitedly look through the windscreen and throw your headphones off your head. 

“Fucking great." Seungcheol grabs his bag and storms up the coach. 

“He’ll sort this out, won't he?" 

“I hope so. They’d make a cute couple and I'm never wrong, am I baby?" Mingyu's girlfriend taps his chest to back her up. 

“Never. She clocked you two the day you met." He smiles at Dino. 

“We weren't obvious!" 

“Whatever you say dude."

They all hurl themselves off the coach, not even noticing just how beautiful the resort is that Jeonghan found because they're all so lost in watching the way you try to avoid Seungcheol and how he can't seem to keep his eyes off you. That is apart from Mingyu who is happily accepting the snacks being offered by the resort staff as they all enter the main building.

“_____! We thought you'd gotten lost!" 

You smile at them as you sit down but in reality you're questioning everything. You didn't plan for this break and yes you've got summer clothes with you and bikinis, but you didn't really plan to be at a five star Thai resort. And after last night your usually high confidence was wavering. 

"I love your dress,” Mingyu's girlfriend says to you quietly as you sit between her and, sadly, Seungcheol, at the long ornately decorated table that's been set up by the golden beach. 

"Thank you. I didn't know we'd be coming somewhere like this. I think I'll need to check out the stores in the village tomorrow.” 

"Let me know when you go! We could go, all the girls together.” 

"I'd like that,” you smile. And for the first time today, it's a genuine one. 

She goes back to talking to Woozi about something and everyone else seems to be preoccupied too, so that just leaves you and Seungcheol. You fiddle with your thumbs before your eyes land on the wine bottle. But before you can even reach for it, Seungcheol grabs it. Does he have to do this? Does he have to carry it on even…..now…. What? 

“Why have you done that?" 

“You didn't have a drink." 

“But I could pour one for myself." 

“Well I needed a top up so I thought I'd do yours too." 

“Why?" 

“Why not?" 

You don't answer, just watch him and wait for him to take a sip of his wine. 

“What are you looking at?" 

“I want to see you drink it first. Make sure it's not poisoned or some shit." 

“You know what?" He turns to you like he's going to fire something back, “n-never mind." He takes a sip of his wine and goes back to staring into the distance. 

Well. That's new. Very new. Perhaps he's worn out from all the fucking last night and can't be bothered with you anymore. But the idea of him not even bothering with your usual banter leaves you feeling hollow. 

The meal passes in a cloud of laughter but you can't help feeling weird. Seungcheol doesn't say any shitty comments, he doesn't purposefully knock your food off the table, it's all very…..cordial? It's unsettling if anything. 

“Enjoy your bats!" Woozi laughs as he waves you off. 

“You can still always come with me? It's famous y’know!" 

“Sure it is," he beams at you, “I think I'll spend the whole evening by the pool." 

“Fair enough," you giggle as you walk back to your room. 

The second you found out where you were going, you were online looking for things to do. You loved making sure you'd seen the sights, the pool is great and everything but what if you never come here again? Every pool more or less looks the same, the sights don't. 

And it would work two fold, if they all broke off into couples or little groups, you had things to do so you wouldn't feel lonely. 

Amazingly, none of them felt like coming to see the bats of Na Yang cave leave for hunting this evening. But according to Trip Adviser it was well worth seeing. Each night thousands of bats leave the cave and even though you don't like bats in the slightest, it sounds like quite the sight to behold. 

You quickly change into shorts, t-shirt and sneakers, grab your camera that you knew would come in handy at some point and rush off to the main hotel building, where apparently a mini bus will pick you up to take you to the bats. 

Just as you're settling into your seat, the mini bus being a lot more packed than you thought it would be, the driver stops. 

“Sorry! Sorry! Thanks for waiting!" 

"No problem,” the driver says kindly. 

What the fuck is he doing here? You presumed he'd be heading out to find some bar or club later tonight. Does he want to upset you that much that he's willing to even ruin your excursion? 

"There's one seat left, you're lucky!” 

Well. That's where the driver is wrong. There's nothing lucky about the last seat available being next to you. You try not to look at his thighs as he sits down next to you. You try not to look at him at all. But his thighs touch yours on the crowded mini bus and you feel like you've been electrocuted. 

"Do you like bats?” He says after about twenty minutes of silence. 

"Not really.” 

"Then why are you going?” He frowns. 

“Because it's a once in a lifetime thing and you don't know if you'll ever come back here again." 

He just nods and you go back to sitting in silence, though neither of you move your thighs away from each other. 

“Just a few more minutes!” 

Thank god for that. The almost 45 minute drive had felt like a decade of your life had been taken away from you. 

“So is it like a couple of thousand bats?" 

“You don't know?" 

“No," he looks confused, “why should I know?" 

“Well surely this is something you wanted to see. If not, why are you here? I doubt there's many suitors at a bat cave." 

“Suitors," he grins, “damn you're right grandma, there probably isn't." 

You fight off a smile. This is just him being his usual annoying self, he was bound to stumble on a funny comeback eventually. 

“There's two million bats." You shew him off the bus now you've finally parked up. 

“TWO MILLION?!" He spins round and bangs into you, he's so close to you that you can smell his minty breath. He brushed his teeth for the bats? "I-I mean I knew that. It's just when you actually hear it that it shocks you all over again.” 

"Ok?” You say slowly. 

Neither of you move. Has he always had such pretty eyes? You knew he had pretty lips, you'd thought about his pretty lips a lot. They usually came up as a suggestion after you'd searched for his big, strong, meaty……fuck you need to stop thinking about his arms. It's a gateway drug to fantasising about him like you used to before you knew he was a giant dickhead. 

“Come on lover birds! The bats won't wait for romance!" 

You both jump away from each other, both clearly embarrassed at what the driver has just said. 

“The bats," you point and set off for the cave, following the other bat fanatics. 

“Woah," Seungcheol says as he looks up at the mountain. "The caves at the top?” 

"Yeah, they fly out each night. Why are you here if you don't know this?” 

"I was talking to the girl at reception and she suggested it.” 

"Oh.” Of course it's to do with a girl.

Seungcheol cringes to himself, he didn't mean that. He just panicked and needed a plausible reason for why he's suddenly turned up here. Truthfully he's only here because he heard you telling Woozi about it. He thought it'd be a way to start afresh, to show you he's not what you think he is. Or he doesn't want to be like that anymore at least. But he's already fucked it up. 

“Not long now! It can look a bit daunting but it's such a sight to behold!" 

You quickly get your camera ready with all the other tourists. 

“Do you want me to take it?" 

“Why?" 

“Then you can see it with your own eyes?" 

Why is he being so nice? 

“O-ok. Thank you,” you take the camera strap off from over your head and hand him your camera, “it's just that button, I've already set it up before the mini bus came." 

“Cool." He nods as his fingers graze yours. 

“Yeah." 

“Here they come everyone!!" 

You both turn to face the cave just as the biggest swarm of something you've ever seen in your life leaves the cave. It's like a never ending line. You knew two million bats would be a lot but this is like something from another world. Like how the world looked before humans ruined it and animals could just do as they pleased. 

"Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself as you watch the bats in awe. 

Seungcheol isn't watching the bats. He doesn't give a fuck about the bats. He got the photo straight away and then a far better sight caught his eye. Your whole face lit up in wonder as you stared at the sky in astonishment. He doesn't even realise he's doing it, he just moves on autopilot and turns the camera to you. You're meant to savour the most beautiful views and in his opinion, the sight in front of him is one of the most stunning he's seen. 

"So they'll hunt now until 6am tomorrow morning! Unless you've all brought your tents, I'll give you some time to explore the area and then we'll meet back at the bus? Say in twenty minutes?" 

“Can I have that?" 

“Oh!" Seungcheol hands you your camera, “sorry, didn't realise I still had it." 

“Did you get the picture?" 

He panics. He can't let you see the photo he's taken of you. Not whilst he's still here anyway. 

“I did!" 

“Great," you take his word for it and put the camera back down against your chest now the strap is back round your neck. 

“What do we do now?" 

“I was just going to grab a coffee from the stall and take in the view.” You start walking, presuming he'll want to do his own thing. 

"Cool.” He follows you. 

Why is he following you? Surely he doesn't want to spend time with you? 

When he pays for your coffee before you can get your card out, you start to feel like something truly odd is going on. He hasn't said a bad word to you, other than the grandma comment, and he's being weirdly timid. 

"They should have souvenirs." You grumble more to yourself than Seungcheol as you wait for everyone to get back to the minibus. 

“Yeah you'd think they'd sell little bat toys." 

“Are you making fun of me?" You'd been waiting for this, you knew he couldn't last this long without being an ass. 

“No! My mom likes trinkets and shit, I like getting her something from everywhere we've been. It's normally just a magnet from the stadium or something. I don't really visit places when we have breaks.” 

"I can imagine.” You know what he's implying. You know how he spends his time normally. 

"I’m pleased we saw this. It's been cool.” You hate how your heart leaps when he says “we". He'd planned this because some girl told him to, he's probably only done it then he thinks he gets her as a reward. It's got nothing to do with you at all. 

“Hey you could always have a copy of the picture if you'd like, get a frame or something from the market and put it in there. Like a homemade souvenir." 

“I'd like that." His eyes find yours again and once again you can't look away. “She'd like it too." He smiles and you're certain your heart has fully stopped working.

He's never smiled at you. He's smirked, he's sent you his evil grin, but never the smile he normally reserves for everyone but you. 

“No problem." You smile back, trying to look anywhere but at him then you don't start giggling. 

You don't speak much on the way back to the hotel, he heads off to find Hoshi at the bar and you head back to your room. 

Once you're washed and ready for bed, you make sure you transfer the photos from your camera. One trip to Greece where you didn't back it up once and lost everything, was enough to make sure you never made that mistake again. 

Seungcheol only managed to take two photos but as long as there's one there, you can keep your promise to help him with the souvenir for his mom. 

You check them both, the first one is amazing, exactly the right shot to show what an insane sight it was to witness. But the second one stops you in your tracks. He took this? He took this of you? The setting sun illuminates your face better than any highlighter ever has and the look on your face……well in the words of Keira Knightly, “I look quite pretty.". 

Something about him taking that photo makes you almost giddy. But you shouldn't read into you, he's just taken it by mistake probably. You cannot let yourself think this means something. He's Seungcheol. He hates you. And you hate him. 

"Does that pool have a massive floaty in it?” 

“It's probably for kids." Woozi dismisses you. 

“But do we know if it's for kids?" 

“Why?" He smirks at you over his fruit. 

It's just a few of you this morning. The two couples have gone on a day trip and you don't really have plans until the night market you want to check out later. And the huge inflatable assault course is looking more than appealing. 

“I'm just asking." You shrug. 

“They've got a climbing wall you know, that you can jump off into the pool." Seungcheol adds in. 

“REALLY? I mean…….really?" You say a bit more quietly, your cheeks heating. 

"We should go on them. Jeonghan booked out this whole resort so there's no kids here or anything.”  

You didn't know that. That changes things a whole lot more. You won't have to swat children into the pool when they get in your way on the climbing wall. 

"Do we really have to do that? It's meant to be relaxing?” Jeonghan sighs, fanning himself in the largest sunglasses you've ever seen. 

"When else do you get a whole water bouncy castle for yourself?” Seungcheol adds in. 

Fuck you wish he'd go and sit at another table. 

It's not even because he's annoying for once. 

You've never seen someone eat papaya the way he's doing. He's fucking devouring it and you've been trying your best to not just sit and watch. It's bordering on obscene as he licks and eats half a papaya in front of you all and you try your best to focus on the inflatables and not clenching your thighs together. 

The rest of them don't seem to care but you can't help letting your mind wander. His tongue looks like it knows exactly what it's doing and the juice that trickles down his chin could only be improved if it was your juice dribbling down his chin. 

"I thought you were coming to the spa with me?” 

You drag your eyes away from Seungcheol eating out the papaya and will yourself to stop imagining how much you'd enjoy him eating you out. 

“Jeonghan, we might not come here again. It's an empty resort with a fucking sick pool and shit. You go to the spa," 

Did he? He can't have just said that because that would insinuate that he actually listened to you when you said the bat cave was a once in a lifetime opportunity. That you should make the most of things whilst you're here. 

“I'll come to the spa with you. They can act like children in the pool." Woozi pulls his newspaper down like a dad deciding his kids’ itineraries. 

“Great!" Hoshi grins at you all. 

“There's even this bubble pool apparently, I don't know what it does but there's a water slide with a trampoline in the pool." You excitedly tell Seungcheol, somehow not remembering he's your sworn mortal enemy. 

Hoshi, Jeonghan and Woozi share knowing looks when Seungcheol says how cool it sounds and for the first time, they see you having a normal conversation. 

“I'm going to go get changed," you finish your orange juice and rush from the table, “I'll be back! Don't bounce without me!!" 

“It's going well then?" 

“What is?" Seungcheol frowns as he finishes his breakfast. 

“That was almost pleasant," Woozi chimes. 

“She's just excited about the water trampoline thing. I've told you, I've lost any chance I had.” 

"Where did you go last night?” Jeonghan changes the subject. 

"Oh…….nowhere,” Seungcheol dismisses them. 

"He followed _____ to the bats. Grinning like a mad man when he found me in the bar and didn't even stare at the woman behind the bar's ass.” 

“Fuck me." Woozi puts down his paper looking shocked. 

“Shut up. I'm going to change." 

He struts off, mentally deciding which of his swim shorts might make you forget all of his past behaviour and jump into his waiting arms. 

"I'm going to be the best man when they get married.” 

"Soonyoung. You've said that about all three of them. You can't be the best man for all three. You'll all need to rotate it." 

“Whatever." 

Ten minutes later and you're rushing to the pool, nothing but a baggy t-shirt covering your bikini clad body, your sandals in your hands and your hair tied up in a high pony tail. You didn't even have time to question whether it'd be awkward to be around Seungcheol, you just wanted to have fun, to forget any worries you had before today and take advantage of the insane surroundings you find yourself in. 

You don't think twice, just rush to the pool, leave your phone on the pool chair, take your t-shirt off and do a pretty impressive, olympic level dive bomb into the pool. 

Sure you're having a great time. But did you have any concern for Seungcheol's poor nerves? He hadn't even had a chance to make it to the pool and let you know he's there, before you did some sort of Baywatch shit and whipped your clothes off. He doesn't know whether to be endeared by how excited you are at the prospect of inflatable assault courses or rush off to the bathroom before you spot him, to sort out the slight situation that’s stirring in his pants. 

“I'd sort that out dude before you speak to her." Soonyoung pats his shoulder as he struts towards the pool.

“I think you've just done that creeping up on people. Don't be fucking weird." He catches Soonyoung up. 

“_____! You could've waited!" Soonyoung jokes. 

“Sorry! Get it in Hoshi! The water is literally so perfect!" You paddle backwards and beam at them both. 

“I've told you, call me Soonyoung." 

“You've literally never said that to me." You giggle, making Seungcheol's heart flutter and he suddenly gets the urge to headbutt Soonyoung. 

“Well I am now. Once you've been on a trampoline in a pool together, you're friends for life." 

“Fair enough," you turn away and start swimming whilst you wait for them. 

“Sorry." 

“What for?" Seungcheol asks as he gets in the pool, opting for the steps instead of your dive bomb method. 

“You looked like you wanted to slap me when she giggled. I promise to only make her miserable from now on." 

“I think I've made that my job," Seungcheol watches as you check out the inflatable as you swim past it, “and it was a headbutt." 

You can't remember when you last laughed so much. You've done the assault course five times, climbed the climbing wall and thrown yourself into the pool more times than you can count and the trampoline was a revelation. 

"This isn't what I thought a bubble pool would be.” 

"What were you expecting?” 

"Well not one big bubble. I thought it'd be lots of little bubbles.” You look around with your hands on your hips as you stare at the water spraying out of the top of the large mountain you find yourself atop of. 

“That's a jacuzzi." Seungcheol dead pans. 

“Oh yeah," you chuckle. “Do we just throw ourselves off it?" 

“Well we've thrown ourselves off everything else." 

"Come on then,” 

"Hey _____?” He asks but you've just bent your legs to throw yourself down the huge bubble and sort of wobble onto your ass. "Be careful!” 

He grabs you but any worry he had disappears when you fall on him in a fit of laughter at the way you've nearly bounced down the bubble. 

"L-lucky this is bouncy,” you giggle as you sit up between his legs, his arms still around you. "Oh! Sorry!”

You try to move back but he keeps you there. 

"Wait. I wanted to say something to you if that's ok?" 

“Er…..sure?" You glance at his hands on your waist and he pulls them away instantly. 

“Ok so I don't know how to say this." He scratches his neck, looking more than a little nervous, “can we start again?" 

“We've not bounced off the bubble yet, we can't do it again if we've not done it." 

“Not the bubble," he frowns, “us. I-I mean can we drop whatever we had going on and start again? I'm not normally a complete asshole to people, I know I can be arrogant and shit but I'm not normally like this with staff or anyone in general. And…..I've really enjoyed spending time with you, I'd like to spend more time with you I think." 

You feel like someones just burst the fucking bubble you're so shocked. 

"But you hate me.” 

"I don't hate you. I know you hate me but…..” 

"I don't hate you.” You interrupt.

You both sit still for a while just gazing at each other, the water fountain at the top of the bubble landing just past you and making it seem like you two are in your own little bubble on top of the actual bubble. 

"Soooo you think we could start again?” 

You wait an appropriate amount of time because you don't want to come off as desperate and say it straight away. But you'd be lying if you said you're not absolutely thrilled by this little development. This whole day has been insanely fun and you've spent the entire time with Seungcheol, joking and talking about water parks you'd been to as kids. It felt natural, you seemed to have so much in common that you didn't realise and you'd barely even had the chance to drool over his abs and back because everything was so exciting. 

"I think so.” You nod, smiling from ear to ear but trying to keep it cool. 

"I'm sorry for how I acted.” 

"No I'm sorry, I was no better,”

"Yeah but….” 

"Seungcheol,” you saying his name shuts him up straight away, "we said we'd start again. Let's just agree we're sorry and move on.” 

"You're sure?" 

“Mm-mm," you hum. 

“Come on, Soonyoung will be wondering…..wait where is Soonyoung?" 

“I haven't seen him since the third time we did the assault course," you look out onto the nearby pool that is adjacent to your huge bubble. “Wait," you snort, “he's asleep on that pool chair." 

“Thank fuck we've not actually lost him, I didn't even realise he'd gone.” 

"Me neither,"

You're drawn to his eyes again, both of you perched on the bubble, you still sitting between his legs and the warm afternoon sun shining down on you. 

"Did you say at breakfast you were going to the night market?” Seungcheol asks when a bang in the distance breaks the moment yet amazingly doesn't wake Soonyoung.

He stands up and then helps you up. Although you'd very much like to stay between his legs for the rest of the day in all honesty. 

"Yeah, they have all sorts of local food vendors and things apparently and all of the seafood you can imagine. Mingyu said they were going and he knew I wanted to go too, so we're all going together. You should come.” 

Shit. Is that too forward? He said he wanted to start again, he didn't say he wanted to spend this whole break with you. Which so far is what's happened. 

"I love seafood.” 

"Is that a yes?” You squint at him, trying not to smile. 

"Yeah, I'd like to go with you….I-I mean with you all," 

“Great," you smile, “now. Are we ready to bounce?" 

“Well I'm not sure, do you bounce down it in little bounces or one big bounce?" You both stare down the huge bubbly lump as water lands on your heads. 

“I don't really know bubble pool etiquette. Let's just jump and see what happens?" You hold your hand out for his. 

He stares for a second and then takes your hand, your fingers intertwined and both of your hearts hammering in your throats. 

“Ready?" 

“Absolutely." He squeezes your hand. 

“You look nice." 

You glance behind you, presuming Seungcheol is talking to someone else. 

“Me?" You point to yourself, you're just in a little sundress and Birkenstocks. 

“Who else would I be talking to, I'm walking with you." 

“You could've been talking to Mingyu," you shrug. 

“I told him he looked nice before we left the resort." 

“He always struck me as needy." You joke, enjoying that smile again you hadn't really seen before yesterday. 

You're all walking to the night market, it isn't a particularly long walk and it seemed pointless to get a taxi. As you're with the two couples, you've ended up walking with Seungcheol at the back of the group. 

"I’m sorry about what that girl said to you.” 

Your body tenses as you stop walking. 

"What?” 

"I'm sorry about what she said to you. I should've said something in the elevator, it was cruel and entirely uncalled for. I think you looked really good, better than good, sex….. really great!” 

"You don't have to apologise for your one night stands.” You start walking, not really wanting to talk about one of his many women. 

"I didn't sleep with her!” 

You all stop walking now, you're certain he didn't mean to say it that loud but to their credit, the others all keep walking and ignore what they just heard. 

“You didn't?" 

“No. I told her to leave before we got out of the elevator." 

Something about that makes you hope a little more than you had been doing. You can't be certain he didn't sleep with her because of you but it certainly seems that way. 

"Thanks for telling me? I guess," 

“I just wanted you to know, not that you should care if I think you look good. But you were upset and I wanted you to know," 

“Thank you," you walk a little closer, your arms occasionally brushing as you navigate the tiny streets to the night market. 

The night market, when you get to it, is packed. Somehow you'd manage to forget you're with the world's biggest rock band but now every so often, people do a double take. To their credit they keep their distance and leave you all to enjoy yourselves but more than once you see women checking Seungcheol out. They're probably looking at the Dino and Mingyu too but you couldn't give a fuck about that. 

Every one of these women is the enemy. Every one of them could end between the legs you were between a couple of hours ago. Fuck what the hell is wrong with you? He asked to start fresh and not take chunks out of each other, that's it, nothing more. You don't have a claim over him. 

“What do you want to try first?" 

“Oh well….." 

“SHRIMP!" Mingyu marches off. 

“What happened to democracy?" His girlfriend watches him disappear. 

“I could eat shrimp." 

“Me too!"

“Cheol you don't like…..” 

"I love shrimp! Come on before he eats it all.” 

You wander off after him, feeling a thrill when you note he's waited for you before he followed Mingyu. He didn't wait for the others, just you. Jesus get a grip woman!

"He's so embarrassing when he's down bad.” Dino laughs. 

"What would you class as down bad Chan? Stealing hotel room service carts?” Mingyu's girlfriend snickers as she walks off. 

"I didn't steal them!” He corrects her. 

"They know you didn't baby,” his girlfriend soothes, "but you did pay someone so you could use it, so it is possibly worse.” 

"It worked didn't it!” 

"And sadly I think that makes me as weird as you.” 

"Oh my god, that's insane,” you stare at the dish in front of you. 

"It's good right! We had it last time we were in Thailand,” 

You're sharing mango sticky rice with Seungcheol having stuffed your face with so much seafood you're surprised you could then fit in the massaman curry or the pad kra pao. 

"I can't believe they're sold out of rice balls, they're like sweet they're so fucking good.” 

You've had a drink and you're so full of food that all you've really focused on in that sentence are sweet and balls. Fuck what you wouldn't give to suck on…….

“______?" You snap your eyes to him, “did you want to try the mangosteen?" 

"Oh! No, I think I'll stick with my sticky balls…..I-I mean your sticky balls…..I MEAN the mango sticky rice.” 

You don't look at him, just stick your spoon in the rice and shove a load in your mouth, hoping he'll forget your little slip up. 

"_____, there's some stalls over there and these boring fucks don't want to come with me. Will you?” 

"Fucking rude,” 

"Don't be brat Mingyu.” His girlfriend reprimands him. 

His ears go pink but you're certain Mingyu likes being told off, he keeps going out of his way to piss her off like he's banking on something when they get back to the resort. 

“I'll come with you!" You smile, you did want to check out the souvenirs and local crafts. 

“I knew you wouldn't let me down." 

You both walk through the stalls taking in all the handmade crafts and little sweet treats but there's one specific thing you're looking for. You talk each other into buying things that remind you of the trip and out of shit you'd never use. Giggle about little things the guys have done and joke that Chan’s girlfriend will be going insane stuck with the three of them. And that's when you spot it, what you've been looking for, whilst you're in a huge queue for a necklace for Mingyu. 

“Hey I'll be back in a sec, I just want to buy something." 

“Sure, it's not like I'm moving very fast," 

“How much for the photo frame?" You ask the old lady on the stall that caught your eye.  

"2000.” 

Shit. You know that's not really that much, they just use large numbers in baht but it is still a little more than you were expecting. 

“1800?" 

“2100." You frown at the woman. What a crafty business woman you've stumbled on. 

“1900?" 

“2000." 

Well. You've got her down from 2100 you suppose. 

“Deal." 

She doesn't offer to wrap it, just shoves the simple bamboo frame in a plastic bag which you're certain has been used one hundred times already and launches it at you. 

“Thanks then." You glare at her. 

You stop in your tracks as you turn round to head back to the queue. That same feeling of wanting to scratch someone's eyes out rearing its ugly head because it's him. Seungcheol. With a woman in his arms just by the table you were all just sitting at. 

Why did you think it meant something more than just not being awful to each other? Of course he doesn't like you, he just told you that you looked nice because he felt bad about the other night. He doesn't want you, he doesn't think about you that way, you can tell that much by the way his hands are on the woman's waist, much like they were on yours earlier. 

Embarrassment floods you again, a feeling pretty similar to how you felt in the elevator but this time it's entirely your own fault. You're the idiot that got your hopes up. You're the idiot that had started to wonder if there was something there. You're the idiot who more or less told him you wanted to suck his balls. Christ you want the ground to swallow you up. He must be regretting ever offering to call a truce. He’ll probably have Woozi fire you for sexual harassment. 

You can't face him. You won't. 

“I'm going to head back," you rush once you're back at the queue. 

“Why? Is everything ok?" 

“Yeah, just feeling a bit sick. A few too many shrimp I think, or too much spicy food." 

“I'll get one of the guys to walk you back! Just let me get this necklace." 

“No, it's fine. Seriously, it's totally ok. I'm just going to get a taxi and head to bed." 

“Are you sure?" She asks, nothing but concern in her voice. 

“Yeah, probably shouldn't have done all that jumping off water bubbles before all that food!" You joke as you walk off, though it's entirely fake. 

"Message me when you're back at the hotel!” She calls after you but you just give her a thumbs up and rush to find a taxi. 

Maybe you could book a flight and be gone by the morning. Anything is better than dealing with the horrifying amount of feelings currently weighing you down.

Seungcheol is pissed. In every sense of the world. 

You left. You just upped and left and didn't even bother saying goodbye. He believed the whole "she's not feeling well and she's just going to bed” bullshit when he was only six beers into the evening. But now he's considerably past that and he doesn't believe a single word of it. You'd come and tell everyone surely, you wouldn't just leave. 

He wanted to woo you. He wanted to make sure you knew he was sorry. He wanted to tell you that he loved you more than anything and everything in this world. 

Well. 

Maybe not that last one but he definitely does like you. He was sure of that on the big bubble. The fact he only looked at your tits bouncing on the bubble once only proved that point further. He's down bad and you've just sauntered off into the sunset with his heart in your evil hold. 

So he's decided he's going to tell you. Just as soon as he gets back to his room and throws up. He's going to put you in your place and tell you just what you're missing out on. He's Choi Seungcheol for fucks sake, women throw their panties at him at every concert. He won't be ignored by a woman who’s lured him in with her bouncing bubble and then dropped him like he was shit on her shoe. 

He'd hammered on Woozi's door, demanding he give Seungcheol your number. Woozi didn't question it, he doesn't want to get involved in whatever the hell is happening and the sooner he could get back to bed, the better. 

So Seungcheol lies on his bed, his phone to his ear and ready to give you a piece of his mind. 

You don't answer though. 

Who doesn't answer the phone at 4am?! He could be dying. He could be already dead. Fuck, you really don't care about him at all do you? 

He hears the bleep ready to leave a message and suddenly he's lost all concept of what to say. 

“Hello? ______ it's me. It's Cheol. I mean Seungcheol. It's me, Choi Seungcheol of the band Shadow," this isn't fucking MTV, he cringes to himself, “I want a word with you young lady!!" Well now he just sounds like his dad. 

He hangs up. Starts anew on the beep. 

“Hello ______, it's me Seungcheol. You've…….you've…….b-broken my heart,” he sobs. 

And sobs. And sobs. Until eventually the phone falls from his hand and he somehow manages to hang up. 

Twenty minutes later and he's pissed again. 

He dials your number and waits for the beep. 

“You've got some nerve, you know that _____. You lure men in and then break their hearts! It's wicked! You harlot! You floosy! You crone! You….you……I'm gonna be sick again.” He hangs up and runs to the bathroom. 

Right, he stretches his neck and gears up to call again. 

He hears the beep and it's like his world stops on its axis. 

“I think I really liked you _____. Or like you. I don't know. You barged your way into my room that day and made a fool of me and ever since I've needed all of your attention," he burps down the phone, the beer still very much making itself known, “I know I'm a man whore. I know I'm arrogant. But I love my mom y’know? I love my parents. And I love my friends. And I give money to baby elephants, they need our help _____ and I'm doing my best for them I swear. I will save every last baby elephant if I can! They can all come stay at my place!" 

He holds back another sob at the thought of the tiny baby elephants. 

“But I can be better. That skirt looked so good on you and that elephant. What? No. Not the elephant, that woman had no right saying what she did. Such a fucking nice little leather skirt, I could really just……” his voice trails off as he thinks about how pretty the skirt would look around your waist with the added feature of his head between your thighs. 

"But you don't like me. Not how I like you. I've been too mean. But in my defense,” he leans to the side, "argh! Sorry! Nearly fell off the bed. In my defense you were too. You called me disgusting and my tummy felt all weird. Feels weird now to be honest…..” 

He hangs up again and rushes off to be sick. 

Comes back and waits for the beep. 

"It's me again. Seungcheol. You know how I know I like you? I don't even like shrimp," he burps again and grimaces at the idea of eating shrimp. “And some girl fell on me earlier and I didn't even want to fuck her. Just made sure she was ok and sent her on her way. I don't think she really fell," he whispers down the phone, like he's telling you a secret, “I think she wanted me. But I just want you. But I can't have you. And I respect that. So this is goodbye. Please try not to cry. But together we could fly?" He knits his brows together, is that a song or does he just rhyme when he's sad? “Bye then." 

He's ready to call it a night but then why should he? If you're saying no he's going to make damn sure he's done everything he can. He pulls up his notes app and dials your number again. 

"It's me.” He says sternly. "I did research, you know?! That's how desperate I've been this past few weeks. Now these are the best the internet has to offer, so if you still say no after all these, it's you that's the problem.” 

He coughs to clear his throat, holding his phone like a Shakespearean actor about to make his debut at The Globe, and starts reading. 

"Are you a parking ticket? Because you've got fine written allllll over you. Errrrr oh! Somebody calls the cops! Because it HAS GOT to be illegal to look that good," he's silent whilst he thinks about what he's just said. “That's what I should've said to her. Then you wouldn't have decided to hate me more than anyone in this world." 

He hangs up the phone and sobs again, remembering how sad you looked as you left the elevator. 

He dials and waits for the beep. 

“I'm back, sorry I got a little sad because the girl I Iike left the elevator looking like a sad puppy. Back to my list," he gets himself comfortable with his notes app open, “have you ever been in a car accident? Because I'd like to rear end you!" He throws his head back laughing, “I like that one. It'd work on me I think. But you could read me the obituary and it would work on me," he stares at the wall before he remembers his mission, “ARE YOU A BIRD ENTHUSIAST? Because you look like you've seen a cock or two!” 

He looks in horror at his phone before hangs up and throws it to the end of his bed. 

"What have you done Seungcheol?!” He paces around the room with his head in his hands, "ring her back. Find a nice one and ring her back. She'll like that.” 

He rushes for his phone and dials your number again. He knows just the thing to rectify this. 

"_____?” He says softly. "I didn't mean that one. I've got one I do mean." He takes a deep breath, “they say you are what you eat and I’d like to be you?” He mumbles, "NO that isn't it. Wait! Just wait one second!” He thumbs the screen and finds the actual line he wanted, "Ok, I got it," he takes a deep breath, “I'm lost, can you give me directions to your heart?"

He sniffles, tears falling down his cheeks and silently hangs up the phone. He won't be able to sleep, he knows he won't. So he opts for a shower and makes himself a coffee to sober up a bit. 

What a fucking mess. He just hopes you don't quit because of him. Everyone loves you, Woozi would be lost without you and, even if he can't have you, he can't not see you. That would ruin him. 

You woke up a little before six, not that you'd really been asleep that long. When you got back to your room you tried your best but sleep just wouldn't come. 

The sun was bright and the blue skies looked more than inviting as you reached over to check your phone. You didn't think much of the amount of messages. There was a time difference and you were always getting calls from different people for Woozi. Though he'd told you to leave getting back to them until after your little break, unless it was really urgent. 

None of the messages you've ever had before in your life though have ever sent you on the emotional rollercoaster that the ones this morning did. 

You listened to them all. Three times in fact. Your smile growing each time you listened now you knew how they ended. 

What you saw last night wasn't what you thought was happening. You just presumed it was because it's him, flirting with women is what he does. 

And the pickup lines, though cheesy, boarding on offensive at times, only made your smile wider. 

You needed to fix this, you needed to find him and one, check he doesn't have alcohol poisoning and two, tell him that you feel exactly the same way he does. 

The man at the reception desk wasn't thrilled when ran to the desk at 6:15 and demanded use of their printer. You're fairly certain he only agreed because you scared him a little bit. But he let you and you managed to print out the picture of the bats. It wasn't the best quality paper, you'd have preferred a proper photo paper option but it was the best you could do at short notice. 

So with the photo in the frame and the frame in a much nicer bag you'd managed to “borrow" from the giftshop when the man at reception wasn't looking, you headed to his room. 

Yes, it's early, but if you don't do this now, you never will.

This is like history repeating itself. You knocking on his door and him blatantly ignoring you. Thankfully there's no noise you'd rather not hear this time. But he's still ignoring you. 

Why did you think he'd answer? He's clearly pissed at you and he's clearly not been asleep for very long judging by the time on those messages. If anything, you've probably fucked him off more by hammering on his door.  

You take a deep breath and turn around. He isn't going to talk to you. You just need to deal with that. 

Deciding you need fresh air, you head to the beach. You hadn't been down there yet and by all accounts it was one of the most pristine golden beaches in the country. 

As you walk down the path to the beach, shoulders you recognise come into view. He's here? He's not going to throw himself in the ocean surely? You can't have driven him to that frame of mind. You'll never get over it and you probably won't have to. By the time Shadow fans hear about it, you'll be skinned alive. 

“Seungcheol?" You say quietly as you come to stand by him. 

His head whips up to you and the sight of him wiping tears from his eyes breaks your heart. 

“What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Why are you awake?" 

“I could say the same to you." You smile softly, “it's barely been two hours since your phone calls." 

“I haven't been to bed yet," he sniffs and looks back at the ocean, “just showered and came here. I needed to clear my head." 

You just hum and follow his eyes to the ocean. 

“Can I sit with you?" 

“I can't really stop you." He shrugs, still looking at the gentle waves.

"You can tell me not to.” 

You wait for a moment but he doesn't say anything and so you take that as you sign to sit next to him. 

“I lied." 

“What?" He looks at you confused. 

“I lied." You sigh. “I didn't feel ill. Well, I sort of did. I'd just bought you something from one of the little stalls and I looked up and you had that girl in your arms. I just saw red, every woman I've ever seen you with has made me see red. Though it's only these past few days I've admitted that to myself.” 

"But why?” 

"Because I like you. And I thought you liked me, I thought this truce was your way of starting something with me. And so when I looked up and saw what I did, I just felt so stupid. And I'd had a drink and said that about the balls, I couldn't face you. Or her.” 

"She fell……..” 

"I know, I listened to the messages.” you stop him. 

"All of them?” He winces. 

"All of them.” You smile. 

“I’ve liked you for weeks." He draws absent mindedly in the sand but seeing no reason to not be honest, “I just didn't know I did. This back and forth we had going on that first day, it became routine. I wanted your attention, I wanted to be around you all the time. But I've never felt like that. I've never felt like this. And so I thought I don't need to figure out my feelings as long as I can still be near you and we could still argue. My head has been so messed up, I've never had these feelings before. I haven't even fucked anyone since that time we met." 

“You still don't know her name," you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I do!! It's….well it's……..I don't actually remember her name because the only woman I care about is you.” 

"Nice save,” you grin even though your heart is doing somersaults. 

"Thanks,” he smiles sadly. "And then I decide fuck it, nothing is ever going to happen, and I pounched on the first poor woman I saw.” 

"The one in the elevator?” 

"Hm-mm,” his eyes darken, "and then I let her do what she did and I hated myself. I knew I'd gone too far, I knew I finally had to do something. And so I do and then….” 

"And then I ruin it.” You finish his sentence. 

"Well I was going to say the girl who pretended to fall.” 

"It was me. We both know it.” 

Silence descends, the sound of waves rippling onto the shore being the only thing that breaks it. It isn't tense or filled with hatred, it's a weirdly content silence.

"I got you something.” 

He just looks at you, obviously not really knowing what to say. 

"Well it's more for your mom.” You hand him the bag. 

"Can I open it then? Or should I wait?” 

"No, open it, please. There's a note in there too, but that's for you not your mom.” 

He frowns a little, not really sure why you've put a note in when you're talking to him, but he opens it anyway. 

The frame is first, his eyes softening when he pulls it out of the bag and sees that you've kept your promise on helping him with a souvenir for his mom. 

"She'll love it,” he beams at the photo. 

"I really liked the photo you took. I really liked both of the photos you took." 

His bright eyes find yours and you're relieved to see that the tears that fall now aren't quite as sad as the ones that fell when you arrived. 

“I read you should always take photos of the beautiful things, to remember them. So that's what I did." 

Your whole heart feels like it might explode. You're not worried about feeling like an idiot anymore. You've made big enough idiots of yourselves. All you feel now is thankful that you decided to get some air, that you found him here and now you hear words like that coming from his perfect lips. 

"There's a note in there too,” 

Seungcheol takes it out and as his cheeks turn pink, the most glorious laugh you've ever heard echoes around the empty beach. 

Seungcheol, 

I was wondering if you had an extra heart? Mine was just stolen. 

“That," he laughs, wiping his cheeks, “is far cheesier than any of mine." 

“Maybe," you giggle, “but at least it's not offensive." You try to speak very seriously. 

"I really didn't mean the cock or two one,” 

"Oh but you did mean the one about rear ending and that you are what you eat?” You challenge. 

"I mean, that depends.” 

"On what?” 

"On whether you'll be my girlfriend?” He says awkwardly, "I've never done it before. A relationship I mean and I can't promise I'll be great at it. But all I know is I want to be near you, I want to be the one who makes you smile. If you'll let me.” 

You search his eyes, they're different from the ones that looked back at you when he first opened his hotel room door. Just as beautiful but now there's something more in them, an honesty that tells you he's telling the truth. And that he does care and he does want to try this with you. 

“I don't use my best pickup lines on just anyone you know," you say as loftily as you can, “I only keep those for the men I want to be my boyfriend." 

His whole face brightens, any little worries he had that you'd still say no evaporating on the spot. 

“Can I kiss you?" He edges closer, looking at your lips. 

“That depends." 

“On what?" he frowns. 

“Please tell me you brushed your teeth after you showered. For one of those messages you hadn't actually put the phone down properly until after you'd been sick. The breath must've been….." 

“Hey," he takes your cheek in his hand and shuts you up, “I'm not an animal," 

“I was just checking," you mumble, transfixed by his lips and the way your cheek seems to fit perfectly in his hand. 

“You're so annoying." He whispers, so close to your lips that you can taste his minty breath. 

His lips touch yours for the first time in the softest kiss you've ever received. It's barely there and yet the weight of the meaning behind it fills your heart. 

It's like that first touch was a test, to check you wanted this and didn't run away from him. Because he pulls back for a second, stares down at your lips and closes the space between you again. One hand on your waist and the other still cupping your cheek but this time it’s frantic. Like he wants to make sure that this kiss makes up for those weeks of fighting and trying to hurt each other. 

He pushes you back onto the sand and takes your gasp in shock as the perfect opportunity to let his tongue dance with yours. His hand that was on your cheek now rests just beside your head on the sand, the big arms you admired for so long caging you in. You've wanted to feel them for so long, so you don't think twice. Your hands grip his biceps as the kiss turns sloppy. Both of you wanting to show the other his serious you, how much you both want this. 

It's only when you moan at the feel of his hardening dick through his shorts that Seungcheol seems to snap out of his need to swallow all of your gasps. 

“We should stop." He says softly, though doesn't pull away. 

“Why? There's nobody here." 

“I don't want to, you know, have sex. I want to do this properly, not that I really know what properly is. But I want to take you out, make sure you know I'm serious." 

“I know you're serious," you point out, gazing up at him and moving his hair off his face, “but I get it. I don't want to have sex yet either. But I don't see any reason we can't carry on the kissing." 

"Is that right?” 

"Hm-mm. But could we do it somewhere else? I'm sure a tiny crab just crawled up my shorts.”

"Oh shit!” He helps you to your feet as you stomp around trying to excavate the crab before it reaches your ass. 

"Get out, get out, get out!” You flap until eventually you see a tiny crab fall from your shorts. "Oh thank fuck for that!” 

“Better?" 

“Much. Imagine having to tell the guys your girlfriend's got crabs." 

“Oh god," he groans as he pulls a cackling you towards him and holds you close, “that's a fucking terrible joke." 

“Well you need to laugh! It's what boyfriends do!" 

“Why do I feel like that's going to be said a lot to make me do things I don't want to do." 

“Because it is," you kiss him, “and I do have something I want you to do." 

“Oh yeah?" He smirks. 

“Not that? Although we do need to talk about the way you ate out that papaya, it was like something off pornhub." 

“Why are you watching pornhub?" He grins. 

“I’m not, I only consume ethical pornogrpahy." 

“You read Game of Thrones smut." 

“I do n…how do you know that?!” 

"I read it over your shoulder once.” 

"What a pervert!” 

"I'm not the one reading Stark smut!” 

"Well that's only because I don't sleep with people who I don't even know the name of!” 

"Are you slut shaming me?” 

"Yes!” 

"Well,” he huffs, "my own girlfriend,” your heart flutters at the word, "betraying me. Lucky I've only got eyes for one woman now.” 

"Is she hot?” 

"The hottest.” He smirks. "Come on, let's get breakfast. You can watch me eat papaya and tell me all the dirty things you want me to do to it.” He grins as he pulls you along, not forgetting the bag with his mom's photo and the note he'll treasure forever. 

"What did you want me to do then?” 

"That bag,” you walk hand in hand off the beach and back towards the outside tables of the restaurant, "I technically stole it?” 

He stops and looks at you in horror. 

"It wasn't my fault! The old lady, who by the way is a terrifyingly good business woman, put it in a bag which I'm certain was first used in the eighties! And the shop wasn't technically open and I couldn’t not put it in a bag. So I stole it? Well, I borrowed it. If I give you the money, could you give it to them please?" 

“It's one bag. It barely costs anything. Just leave it." 

“No! Please! I'll do whatever you want.” 

"Whatever I want?” He quirks his brow at you and you feel your heart and pussy tingle. 

"Within reason.” 

"I'll do it,” you both set off walking again, "so long as you wear that leather skirt again on our first date.” 

"Deal.” You grin, kissing his cheek and happily gliding towards the hotel. 

"I've got plans for that leather skirt.” 

"I know you do. You didn't say it in your head about the added feature you'd like to make, you said it out loud. I heard it all. Lucky for you, I've thought a lot about where I'd like your head.” 

He drops your hands and watches open mouthed as you keep walking towards the hotel, making an extra effort to sway your hips. 

“Well come on then! I thought you'd promised me a show!" 

“Fucking hell." He whispers, almost in awe. 

“I think they're actually being more competitive now." Soonyoung complains as he looks over his sunglasses. 

“You'd think they'd be nicer to each other, ______ just nearly took him out with that inflatable ball." 

They're all watching in horror as you and Seungcheol take on the inflatable assault course again in the pool. 

“I don't think you'll need to worry about being the best man at the wedding Soonyoung. They'll have killed each other before then," they all wince and sit back in their seats as they see you hit the deck and land on your ass because of Seungcheol. 

"Please, can we all agree that we will never play board games or computer games with them.” Mingyu jumps as you dive into the pool with a shriek, "I think they'd both cause serious bodily harm if they lost monopoly. 

“Imagine Mario Kart." 

“Blood bath." Woozi and Jeonghan speak in unison, shaking their heads. 

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE! DO THEY HAVE TO KEEP DOING THAT?! MY EYES!” 

"It's ok honey, I'll tell you when it's stopped,” Mingyu's girlfriend covers his eyes as she looks fondly at you and Seungcheol in the pool. 

She's never wrong about these things, she told them all that. 

And from the way you're currently so lost in each other, you're more or less dry humping in the pool as you steal each other's oxygen. She's still got that winning streak. 

She knew one day someone would come along who would drag Seungcheol out of his predictable rock star ways. She just thanks the universe that it's you. Someone who's come to mean so much to all of them, but everything to Seungcheol.

🏷️ @rutheaflowers @bramos91 @fzenn @blueyedqtpie1186 @coupsv @vwintershire @toohyperactiveforyou12 @cheolwoo @jaja-salute @sejeonggggg @epelletart @wonwooslefttiddie @fwairychlo3 @joongtime @4kwp @ninigyuuu @sami4jeonghani @ashlinxloves @cardi-bre91 @adoreuzi

bonus:

But today, you don't have any lemons in stock. You were given a box of tangerines instead, probably from one of the relatives, you guessed. Not that you know half of them. Perhaps it was given by the other side of your husband's family. Being married to the son of the family that owns and operates Diamonds Group—the conglomerate company—was not for the weak. You nearly had to pay half the price for being his wife.

It's not that he had been treating you badly, or that his family treated you like an outsider. If anything, half of these years living with him felt like living with a roommate. Maybe even business partners who shared the same space and lived under the same roof.

It was all dull and gloomy.

Just like that, you had wasted seven years of marriage with a man who acted as cold as stone toward you.

"I want a divorce."

You said it out of nowhere as Jeonghan hummed, skimming through his documents while leaning back in his chair at the office.

"I'm serious this time," you said with a sigh, crossing your arms as you stood in front of his desk. "I know I've been saying the same thing for the past few years, and thank you for being my unpaid therapist—but I'm really filing for divorce this time."

Jeonghan stopped skimming through the documents, his fingers hovering over the paper as he looked at you through the rim of his glasses.

"Okay..." he slowly exhaled, placing the papers down as he clasped his hands together on his desk. "So, how do you want to get divorced? By agreement or... trial? Unless Seungcheol disagrees, or you want to file a lawsuit. You'll have to go through mediation if you want that."

He stood up now, palms resting on the desk as he looked at you.

"But I doubt he'd disagree. Just go by agreement—talk with him and—"

"I wanna file a lawsuit."

Jeonghan immediately laughed at that, shoving his hands into his slacks pockets like it was the funniest joke he'd ever heard.

"Don't joke around. If you wanna win against him, you're going to lose—"

"And I want you to be my representative lawyer."

Almost instantly, his laughter died down. His lips sealed shut as he stared at you.

There was a brief moment of silence.

And judging by the look on your face, you weren't joking either.

"Are you kidding me?" Jeonghan looked as though he'd just been personally insulted. "That's like ASKING for the death penalty! Are you trying to put my career at risk?"

He was pacing around like a madman while you simply watched him tear his hair out, fiddling with your hands.

"That's why I reached out to you. You're one of the best attorneys in this building."

He stopped in his tracks, looking at you sharply like he was about to scold a child, making you flinch under his intense gaze.

"_____, I'm the legal director. One of his closest partners. Do you want me to get fired?" he groaned, pacing again. "Remember Attorney Kim who sought a divorce from his wife? Yeah, that divorce didn't end well. His career basically went downhill afterward. Even his own firm isn't doing well now, from what I heard."

"You mean Mrs. Choi Mina, the CEO of the department store?" your brows lifted in curiosity. You knew her; she was one of Seungcheol's relatives—the one you saw at the memorial ceremony.

Jeonghan snapped his fingers. "Yes. Exactly. He should've seen that coming. He had everything and still chose to leave in the end."

You nearly scoffed at that. “What would you know about marriage? Maybe the relationship was bad, probably why he's leaving.”

He ignored you and continued. “My whole point is, why would you go to such trouble for this? Oh my god, thinking about it makes me want to—”

“It was a loveless marriage,” you stated. “I want to sue him because of that, and also for making me waste a whole seven years of my life on this.”

The man stopped in his tracks, his crash-out temporarily postponed as he looked at you. For a moment, he just stared.

“You know that's not a proper reason to sue him.”

“Then what about suing him for breaking a promise?” you said casually with a shrug. “You know, is that reasonable enough? Marriage vows and contracts were made.”

“I mean...” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “It does count as breaching a promise between spouses. Listen, why not just talk to him, discuss whatever it is, make a mutual agreement—and you're free.”

“...It's not that easy.”

“Just try. Be on the same wavelength as him,” he punctuated with a knock on his desk. “And if you're lucky, he'll agree to a mutual agreement, you'll be on the same page, and that's the end of it.”

You made a face, letting out a disbelieving scoff.

“Same page? We're not even sleeping in the same bedroom, Jeonghan! And that's the problem.”

Now it was your turn to pace around like a madwoman.

“Oh my god, it seems like you don't understand me. I wanted to sue him because of that. I spent years trying to be a good wife to him, and I even quit my job as a news anchor because of him!”

You finally let out an exasperated breath as Jeonghan just stared at you. It looked like he was staring because he thought you were being weird now.

But you were far from finished.

“I didn't just quit, I also dedicated my whole life trying to please him, but he never ever looked my way!” you said, flailing your arms. “Then when I told him I wanted to create my own beauty brand, he did support it—but only by giving me the capital and never supporting me verbally. I guess his way of showing his so-called love is throwing money at me.”

You scoffed at that.

“And not just that, he never eats dinner. When I tried to cook his favourite dish, he came back the next day. Does that man even eat?” You felt ridiculous for even caring in the first place.

Jeonghan just let you ramble as you continued.

“What kind of workaholic insanity is that? In fact, I never see him at home. It's like he's sleeping in his office.”

After a while, he spoke slowly. “So...you want to sue him for emotional damage and neglect?”

You thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Maybe that's what I'm thinking.”

Then suddenly, your eyes widened as you snapped your fingers. “Oh! We can use a third party interference claim. I want to charge him with that too.”

The man rolled his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “You need actual evidence for that. Accusing someone without proof is not it.”

“Then find one.”

The way you said it so simply nearly drove Jeonghan insane.

“I'm not doing that. And who's we?”

“You're a former Supreme Prosecutor. You can fabricate anything, right?”

“Oh my god, are you trying to get me fired by my boss???”

He looked genuinely bewildered now.

Your afternoon was wasted on trauma-dumping in Jeonghan's office. You were supposed to be at your father's house, but this whole burdening issue needed to come to an end.

The moment you were about to head downstairs, you ran into Seungcheol—your husband, as stated on paper.

The elevator opened, revealing him with his secretary, Mingyu, beside him. His secretary stepped out, allowing Seungcheol to enter the elevator alone with you.

“Are you not going to come in?”

That deep voice almost made the hair on your arms stand up. Even the staff around him probably felt the same.

His secretary only smiled and gestured politely. “It's alright, sir. You go ahead first. I'll take the next one.”

With that, the elevator doors closed as Seungcheol pressed the button. The silence was torturous. Dreadful enough to leave you suffocating in the same space as him.

God, even his cologne invaded your nostrils, almost making you gag at how overwhelming it was. Not just you either—the entire building knew it.

You once heard one of the front desk staff exaggerate that they always knew when he arrived because his signature scent lingered like a nightmare. You could practically imagine employees scrambling into panic the moment they realized their boss was on the way.

“Why are you here all of a sudden?”

His voice made you jump like a deer caught in headlights. You hadn't done anything wrong, so why did you feel like you had committed a crime?

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you answered softly.

“I was meeting with Jeonghan.”

“Is it about the staff member who broke one of your prototypes and tried to leak the plans to a third party?”

He didn't even look at you.

Great.

“You can ask Chan to handle that lawsuit.”

You wanted to hit him. Your fist even lifted slightly, tempted to smack the back of his head. Of course, he didn't notice your childish behaviour.

“No. It's not about that.”

You cleared your throat, trying to follow Jeonghan's advice.

“S-so... will you be back home today?”

You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering.

Why were you nervous? You're the one who wanted a divorce after all.

He glanced down at his wristwatch, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.

“No. I'll probably be late. As usual, don't wait for me.”

The way he said it so casually, like it was a line he'd repeated over and over again, never failed to make your heart sink.

And somehow, it still did.

Even though you were supposed to be numb to it by now.

“It's important,” you insisted.

“I don't know how important it is. If you want to discuss it, we can do it another time.”

He still wasn't looking at you.

“But it is urgent,” you pressed. “When am I finally supposed to see you?”

“You could've told Mingyu about it, and I could fit you into my schedule.”

The words sounded so formal. So business-like.

You hated it.

You wanted an immediate answer, not to ask for an appointment with your own husband.

“I want a divorce.”

There.

You finally said it.

Seungcheol faltered ever so slightly.

Then, almost deliberately, he turned to look at you.

The elevator doors opened. You stepped out, turning back to face him.

“Let's discuss it more at home.”

That word—home—felt both foreign and familiar.

You couldn't even call that place a home anymore if there was no warmth left in it.

Then the elevator doors closed again.

For the first time, Seungcheol didn't know how to feel. So consumed by work, he had failed to notice that something like this would come much sooner than he expected.

Seungcheol doesn't know how many hours of his life he had dedicated to work in a single day. The work that he swore himself to the day he turned eighteen.

And that same work had also caused his marriage to fail.

Another day had passed yet again. For some reason, the world around him had slowly faded. The sounds in the background had become so distant that he didn't hear the voice calling out to him.

“Director Choi?”

The voice echoed, catching his attention as he blinked. Momentarily, he stared at the boardroom table as everyone waited for his response.

“Right,” he exhaled, straightening in his seat. “Could you repeat that?”

One of the staff members continued, repeating the report regarding last year's balance sheet. Seungcheol's body was physically there, he was anything but focused on what was happening around him.

Just as he blinked, his eyes widened.

The boardroom was gone.

His gaze adjusted to the ceiling of his penthouse instead, then to the papers spread out in front of him.

The divorce agreement. 

His eyes landed on you. You looked back at him, still listing out the details of the property division.

“Did you even hear what I'm saying?”

He didn't press any further. Instead, he slid the paper toward himself and signed it without hesitation. “I am. Just list out what you need, and I'll compensate for it.”

He finished signing before sliding the papers back to you with ease. There wasn't a hint of a smile or any emotion behind his expression.

Like he had already adapted to whatever this was. You took a moment to stare at him, disliking how easy all of this seemed for him. Taking the papers from him with deliberate movements.

His eyes darted up to you as he finally stood. You watched the broadness of his shoulders as he walked away.

Just as he stopped in his tracks, he turned back. “You can take the villa in Jeju Island. It was a wedding gift after all.”

You almost bristled at that and immediately stood up. “I don't need that. I have my own property too.”

Your husband actually looked at you this time, hands buried in his slacks pockets.

“I told you to just take it. Don't be so stubborn about it. I don't have a reason to go there anyway. You can use it for your tangerine picking or whatever, since you've been replacing lemons in my bottle.”

Then he walked upstairs, leaving you frustrated.

Even in the middle of the divorce process, he still treated you like the immature one.

When Seungcheol finally entered his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes for a moment.

A sudden buzzing sensation spread through his head. His brows furrowed, exhaling slowly before glancing at the calendar beside him.

A reminder.

Your anniversary this weekend. The reminder itself felt like it was mocking him. You two were about to separate anyway. Why was he still dwelling on things like this?

The last time he celebrated it, it had been another expensive dinner with gifts and flowers. The same routine every year, until the sixth anniversary.

As the years passed, your smile only seemed to grow more distant whenever he gave them to you. Perhaps you were tired of the same meaningless gifts. Still, he thought it was better than doing nothing. Forgetting would've been worse.

The point was, he had a feeling something was wrong. His body felt exhausted more than usual. At first, he assumed it was because he had been working too much.

But this wasn't a normal headache.

Sometimes he would zone out, and when he opened his eyes again, he would be somewhere else entirely.

He could swear he had been sitting in one place, yet somehow he would find himself in a completely different location.

It was probably stress. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Even Mingyu had pointed out how distracted he had become during meetings and conversations. His secretary advised him to take a break, but Seungcheol insisted on finishing his deadlines instead. He was fully aware that he pushed himself harder than anyone else.

“What are you doing standing there?”

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Blinking, he turned toward you, momentarily dumbfounded.

You stared back at him with equal confusion. “You've been standing there for more than five minutes. Hello?”

You waved a hand in front of his face.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he glanced down at the coffee mug in his hand and took a sip.

“Then why are you standing so close to me?”

Letting out a huff, you grabbed a tangerine from the fruit basket behind him while maintaining eye contact.

“Oh, you know. Picking up my tangerine instead of squeezing lemons into someone's drink.”

He simply let you be, watching as you headed upstairs, probably to your room.

His eyes drifted toward the clock hanging on the wall.

Four o'clock in the afternoon.

His expression faltered. Then he checked the date. Today was your anniversary.

That couldn't be right.

As far as he remembered, he had only been discussing the property division with you this morning.

He checked again. Then again. Opening his laptop to verify the date.

Today was the seventeenth of May.

And if his memory served him correctly, that divorce discussion had happened on Friday.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit him. He exhaled quietly, not realizing sweat had begun forming on his forehead.

Maybe Mingyu was right. Maybe he was simply exhausted from overworking himself. He convinced himself it was just an occasional migraine, yet the pattern kept repeating.

His concentration would disappear and hours would vanish. Sometimes entire chunks of time felt blurred. He thought it might finally be time to get a proper medical checkup.

Your sleep was suddenly disturbed by scratching noises coming from your bedroom door. Reluctantly, you woke up, half-asleep as you dragged your feet across the floor. Opening the door, you were greeted by Kkuma, the fluffy furball barking up at you before she immediately turned around and walked away, as if telling you to follow her.

“Kkuma... it's not even breakfast time. Why are you bothering me in the middle of the night?” you groaned sleepily, following behind her with lazy steps.

It was raining heavily outside.

The dim lights illuminated the dark penthouse as you turned on the kitchen light.

Just as you were about to enter, you shrieked—a human figure stood there with his back facing you. The lightning flashed outside, accompanied by an ominous soundtrack playing in your head.

It's just Seungcheol.

After calming yourself down, you cautiously peeked beside your husband, waving a hand in front of his face, trying to test the waters first.

Was he sleepwalking?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Kkuma's relentless barking beside you.

You looked down at the creature and sighed. “Stop that.”

You frowned at the dog before looking back at him. Only then did you notice that his eyes had been closed the entire time.

Your gaze lingered on the scattered tangerines across the counter. A little skeptical about why the kitchen was such a mess.

Brushing the thought aside, you gently shook him.

“Seungcheol?”

After a while, his eyes slowly opened.

You were taken aback by how quickly he adjusted. Without saying a word, he simply turned around and walked upstairs as if nothing had happened.

The only sounds left behind were the heavy rain pouring outside and Kkuma's soft barking and whimpering as she pawed at your legs.

You didn't ask him about that night the next day. Instead, you carefully observed him while he got ready for work. When he noticed your suspicious gaze from behind the rim of your mug, he called you out while buttoning his cuffs.

“What are you staring at for? Did you put something in my briefcase again?”

Blinking, you lowered your mug.

“No...”

There was a brief pause. He didn't even look like he remembered sleepwalking.

“...That got me thinking. Did something unusual happen last night?”

Seungcheol looked at you as though you were the one acting strange. “I'm not sure what you're implying. What else do you think happened besides a relentless shareholder meeting calling for me?”

You take that back. He's infuriating as usual, always trying to stir up problems when all you wanted was a proper answer.

“Never mind. I hope you accidentally step on a tangerine and slip.”

Seungcheol paused midway through turning around, looking back at you with a raised brow.

“Say that again.”

You immediately turned away, picking up Kkuma as you walked back toward the kitchen.

“Oh dear, it's time for your treat, isn't it, baby?” You cooed at her dramatically, sending one last petty glare in his direction.

—

“I'm glad that you sought help from us, however...” he sighed, clasping his hands together on his desk as he looked at you. “...I don't think you've come to the right person or department for this issue.”

“You're a doctor too, soooo—”

At this point, it was almost ridiculous how often you saw Dr. Jeon compared to your own husband.

Wonwoo had been one of your friends back in university. It was funny how your friendship with him had lasted longer than your marriage.

“I told you last time.” He looked one step away from crashing out.

You could vividly remember Jeonghan reacting the same way the other day.

“If you want a counselling session, go to Joshua. And for the record? This is my only lunch break. Did you have to come at the worst possible time?”

You stared at his lonely meal consisting of a cream cheese bagel and a box of apple juice.

“But... it's only a cream cheese bagel and ham.”

“It's depressing, I know.”

“Anyway, as I was saying—how do I acquire medical records for emotional damage?”

You brushed his complaint away with a dismissive wave.

After a long pause, an exaggerated sigh escaped Wonwoo as he stared at you, brows furrowed.

“I'm an OB-GYN, not a psychiatrist, _____. That alone proves you never cared about my field of expertise, and honestly, it's very insulting.”

“...So, how?”

The audacity of you to ask again. Wonwoo let out a loooong exhale before tossing the empty juice box into the nearby bin.

“I assume you need it for a reason?”

He spun slightly in his chair and began typing on his computer. “What is it? To prove an absence from work? For HR or—”

“It's for a divorce settlement.”

You finally cut him off, and your friend abruptly froze.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard as his eyes darted toward you skeptically.

“Divorce? You're getting... a divorce?”

He repeated it as if he needed to hear it twice.

You nodded. The confirmation alone was enough to make him fall silent.

Leaning back in his chair, he seemed unsure how to respond.

“Sorry to hear that. But just so we're clear, if you're planning to use that in court, it might take a while for a psychiatrist to provide a formal assessment. Unless you're in critical condition.”

“I am in critical condition, though.”

His eyes narrowed, then he sighed again.

“My point is, if you're planning to use that against your husband, I don't think it'll work. After being diagnosed by a psychiatrist and attending therapy sessions, you still need to go through the proper process to prove you've received legitimate medical attention.”

His tone had become much more serious now. And he wasn't even finished.

“My real question is, why do you want to sue Choi Seungcheol? He can give you money—probably double my salary. I bet this advice came from a lawyer.”

Your eyes immediately brightened.

“Oh? How did you know that?”

“Obviously. It's not uncommon for doctors to know things like this.”

He continued typing without taking his eyes off the monitor.

“Whoever is handling your divorce case must be completely out of his mind if he's agreed to represent you.”

“It's Jeonghan.”

That finally made him stop.

Looking at you, he blinked.

“You're joking.”

Judging by your face, you clearly weren't.

A dry chuckle escaped him as he dragged a hand down his face.

“I am not getting involved in this. If your soon-to-be ex-husband finds out, he'll have my head too.”

“You don't even work for him.”

You made a face at the way he was talking.

“Easy for you to say.”

The keyboard clicks were the only sound filling the room.

“He's part of a conglomerate family. You're from a wealthy family. And me? I'm just some ordinary guy. One wrong step and I'll be seeing the chairman of this hospital, who's probably connected to the Chois anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic narrative.

“Come on. My family isn't that wealthy. We're comfortable.”

Wonwoo actually looked at you this time.

After all these years of being your friend, he knew one thing for certain: Being friends with you was like walking on thin ice. He wasn't sure whether you were genuinely being modest or simply humble-bragging.

“Oh, really? Then give me fifty dollars.”

Frowning at him, you leaned forward. “This is serious, Wonwoo. Me and Seungcheol are getting a divorce, and it's been seven years—not seven months.”

You let out a breath.

“Anyone would be upset knowing they spent years of their life loving someone who never really cared about them... only to end up with nothing.”

Not that you never thought it would become this messy.

People always said that just because you started a relationship in your twenties didn't mean it would remain the same in your thirties. Nevertheless, your situation with Seungcheol was different. 

It all started with an arranged marriage between both families. You even broke up with your ex-boyfriend because of it. At some point, as the early stages of your marriage began, you figured that eventually, you would come to love him.

He wasn't exactly a bad husband.

In life, to find a good man, there are at least three criteria that should be met in order to have a happy marriage.

One: generosity.

Cheapness runs in one's blood, and children tend to inherit what they see from their parents. They grow up watching how their parents earn money by waking up early in the morning and coming home late at night. They also learn from how their parents spend that money.

If a man complains about a twenty-cent charge on his credit card despite earning four hundred thousand a month, or if another man only has fifty dollars to his name yet willingly spends his last forty on your meal, the difference isn't about how much money they have.

It's generosity that changes everything. And Seungcheol was never stingy with you.

He gave you practically everything.

When you told him you wanted to open your own beauty clinic after resigning from your job, he didn't make a grand speech about supporting you. He didn't loudly encourage you or shower you with praise.

He simply gave you the capital and trusted you to do whatever you wanted with it.

Sometimes it felt absurd, as though he believed money could solve everything. Yet he never used it to control you either, even when it would've been easier for him to spoil you rotten and keep you dependent on him. Nevertheless, generosity was still one of the most important qualities a man could have.

Two: how they handle stress and challenges.

If a man struggles with anger management, he'll explode the moment his car breaks down, a tire goes flat, or something simply doesn't go his way. That anger eventually reaches the people around him. Whereas some men face life's challenges calmly and immediately focus on finding a solution.

A real man wouldn't vent his frustrations onto you or make you feel responsible for his distress. He would continue treating you with the same patience and gentleness. 

And despite Seungcheol's reputation as a cold and distant man, he rarely expressed irritation. Let alone anger.

Okay, maybe you were exaggerating a little.

But he was nowhere near an angry person. You annoyed him all the time, yet he never responded with the kind of annoyance a man would show toward someone desperately trying to get his attention.

It was more like he simply accepted that you were... childish.

Not playful. Just childish.

You doubted he even saw you as a woman trying to win his affection. More like a cat scratching places it wasn't supposed to.

Three: a man who knows how to take care of you.

At first, you thought this was simply your standard. A woman should never have to teach a man how to be patient, or how to care for her.

Seungcheol wasn't expressive with words, but he was observant.He could immediately tell when something was wrong with you. Like that time you got sick while he was buried in work.

He ended up adopting a ragdoll kitten—Soya. That was her name. All because he heard ragdolls were affectionate and would make good companions for both you and Kkuma.

And honestly?

It took less than a second for you to forgive him for things like that. It's not like he never did anything right. Even when his presence wasn't there, he always—always—made sure you were taken care of. Whether it came from love or obligation, you simply assumed he was fulfilling his responsibilities as a spouse.

Ugh.

It was almost frustrating. Because you couldn't even pinpoint what was actually missing.

Aside from the fact that your love never seemed to reach him. Sure, he wasn't the type to openly express himself.

A lot of men were like that. Yet you didn't want to generalize him just because he happened to fall into that category.

“Have you considered marriage counselling?”

You blinked before shaking your head.

“Why would we do that? Even if we did, he barely makes time for anything, and I don't think it would've worked anyway.”

Wonwoo let out a small sigh, his eyes still fixed on the monitor as he typed away.

“That's not even a question. I'm suggesting that you should attend one.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because it sounds like you still want to save your marriage.”

This time, he looked up at you. Really looked at you.

For a moment, you hesitated. Not because his words struck particularly deep. But because they forced you to question whether you had made the right decision. Besides, you no longer wanted to dwell on a one-sided love.

You were tired of doing this to yourself.

Before you could respond, your phone rang inside your handbag. You quickly rummaged through it and answered the call.

“Oh, yes, Secretary Kim.”

You pressed the phone to your ear. Then your expression changed.

“Seungcheol fainted? Uh—I'll be right there.”

Wonwoo looked up at your sudden reaction, confusion written all over his face.

“I need to go first. We'll talk again, Wonwoo.”

You hurriedly grabbed your things and rushed out of the room.

Wonwoo watched you leave. He didn't know everything about your marriage.

And it wasn't his place to assume.

However, your reaction certainly didn't look like someone eager to end a seven-year relationship. Whatever was happening between you and your husband, he could tell it wasn't as simple as a marriage that had merely run its course.

—

Every pattern in your life repeats until you learn the lesson. The moment you choose differently, the loop ends and growth begins.

Bad habits die hard. In the middle of a divorce settlement, most people wouldn't care much about how their spouse was doing.

But you? The moment Mingyu told you that your husband had fainted, you came running without a second thought.

What could possibly go wrong this time?

From what you knew, Seungcheol had always been healthy—or at least physically healthy from what you'd seen over the years. You were well aware that he was a workaholic, even before reaching the peak of his career.

You stared at his figure lying on the office sofa. Mingyu stood nearby alongside Jeonghan, looking one step away from passing out, judging by how hard he was biting his nails.

When the doctor finally finished examining him, he stood up and turned toward the three of you. His gaze landed on you, presumably assuming you were family.

“He's alright. His pulse is perfectly normal.”

The relief in Mingyu's sigh was almost immediate.

“It appears to be exhaustion caused by prolonged stress. May I ask if he's been taking any medication recently? Perhaps for migraines?”

You hesitated. Then the memory of him sleepwalking flashed through your mind.

Instead of answering, you looked toward Mingyu as if searching for confirmation that something similar had happened before. The man blinked before letting out an audible, “Ah.”

“I saw some medication on his desk, so I assumed he'd been taking it.” He glanced toward Seungcheol before continuing. “Mr. Choi mentioned that he's been experiencing headaches more frequently than usual.”

The doctor nodded, and the discussion continued for a few more minutes. Eventually, after the doctor left, your gaze returned to Seungcheol's unconscious figure. You crouched beside him, studying his sleeping features.

“How did this happen?”

You looked up at Jeonghan and Mingyu.

Jeonghan let out a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “He nearly collapsed in the doorway when the meeting started. Good thing I caught him before he completely hit the floor.”

“Had to cancel the meeting too,” Mingyu added. “If the shareholders had been here today, it would've caused a huge commotion.”

You listened quietly, nodding as your attention drifted back to your husband. For a moment, you deliberately pressed your ear against his chest.

Mingyu immediately made a noise while Jeonghan jabbed an elbow into his stomach.

“His heart is beating normally, alright.” You pulled away and stood up.

“Of course he is. The doctor literally just said that.”Jeonghan interjected. “I mean—the rich are very strict about their blood pressure. Seungcheol's always careful with his sodium intake—”

You and Mingyu stared at him.

He let out an awkward chuckle in between. “What I'm saying is,” Jeonghan corrected himself with a gesture, “he's a healthy man. He's just drowning in stress. It's obvious things haven't exactly been organized lately.”

Mingyu nodded in agreement.

“Mr. Yoon's right. Director Choi has been rather quiet lately. Maybe crankier than usual? I'm not entirely sure, but he's been working until midnight almost every day. Even the employees don't stay overtime that long.”

You let out a quiet sigh. It was hard not to think about everything currently weighing on him. The company, the workload—and now the divorce. The thought alone gnawed at you.

What if this had been the final straw? What if your divorce was part of the reason?

Turning toward Jeonghan, you spoke carefully. “...Do you think it was because of that?”

“Because of what?”

Jeonghan looked genuinely confused.

“You know. The divorce.”

“A divorce?!”

Mingyu nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes darted between you and Jeonghan.

“Ma'am, what do you mean by that? And hyung—why am I only hearing about this now?”

Jeonghan shushed him immediately and turned back to you.

“I'm not sure it's because of that. Don't worry that pretty little head of yours. I highly doubt he'd break down over something like this.”

You frowned. The glare you sent him was enough.

He immediately sighed and held up both hands. “Right. Sorry. That was insensitive.”

A pause.

“But that doesn't change the fact that I don't think he fainted because of the divorce. I think he was already at his breaking point.”

“So no one's going to tell me what's actually happening right now?”

Both of you ignored Mingyu again.

“Has anything odd happened lately?” you asked. “Other than the headaches.”

Jeonghan shook his head. “Not really. But what I can tell you is that he needs a break this time.”

Mingyu's eyes widened. “A break? Then I'll need to clear his schedule and move the planning meetings—”

Jeonghan immediately cut him off.

“What's done is done. Starting today, he's taking at least a week off. Tell him that.”

Just as you were about to continue questioning them, Jeonghan grabbed your shoulder and pulled you slightly aside.

“By the way,” he lowered his voice, “I found these in his desk drawer.”

You blinked and looked down at the small container resting in his palm.

Sleeping pills.

“Hey now—are you guys keeping secrets from me?” Mingyu complained while trying to peek. “I'm hurt.”

You quickly took the bottle before he could get a better look.

“Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Yoon.”

You gave him a small nod which Jeonghan mirrored it.

The brief exchange said enough. After all, he'd been working with Seungcheol long enough to notice when something wasn't right.

Something has definitely been going on lately.

Seungcheol did take a day off from work today. You told him the divorce settlement could wait until he fully recovered. You made sure he went through a proper medical checkup. Your personal doctor even came to the house.

Turns out, he was perfectly fine.

No issues with his blood pressure. His liver and gut health were normal, though the doctor did advise him to refrain from consuming alcohol for the time being.

For someone who claimed to want a divorce as soon as possible, you seemed awfully eager to take care of him.

Your movements halted in the middle of chopping carrots as you let out a sigh.

What did you actually want at this point? Was it guilt? Or were you still unsure whether divorce was truly the answer to your happiness?

One thing was certain—you were putting him first again.

You knew you had no obligation to do any of this. With everything hanging in the air and a divorce looming over both of your heads, you could've simply hired a private chef, or a housekeeper.

Yet you insisted on taking care of him personally.

It was definitely muscle memory. A habit that you thought you had already broken. Somehow, you found yourself back in the same position again.

Maybe you needed to stop trying to figure everything out on your own. Sometimes the answer arrived when you least expected it. Unfortunately, patience was never one of your strengths.

Seungcheol has always been an enigma to you.

But even the most mysterious person eventually cracks when someone keeps poking at the wrong places.

Which you did, constantly and apparently, annoying him was therapeutic for you.

Frowning, you stepped back from the steaming pot and turned off the stove.

It was almost eleven in the morning. Your husband still hadn't woken up. You had made sure he didn't take another sleeping pill.

While sorting through the unopened mail earlier, you noticed an envelope addressed specifically to him.

A medical document.

You hadn't meant to snoop. But once you saw it was from Diamond Medical Centre, curiosity got the better of you. According to the records, he'd been registered as a patient there nearly four years ago.

Panic disorder. Anxiety attacks. Insomnia.

The words stayed with you long after reading them.

His name was written right there. It also noted that he'd stopped attending his sessions shortly after. You ended up calling Jeonghan and asking him to look into it further.

Slowly pushing the bedroom door open, you peeked inside.

Seungcheol was still asleep.

You stepped in carefully, making sure not to wake him. It had been a while since you'd entered his room. Not since the two of you decided to sleep separately.

Looking at him now, you'd never seen him sleep this peacefully before. Almost as though he'd been desperately craving rest.

Was that why he took sleeping pills? You already knew he was sleep deprived. You'd always assumed it was because of work.

Now you wondered if sleeping itself had become difficult for him.

When did it start? Four years ago? Or even before your marriage?

You'd wait for Jeonghan to find out.

Carefully, you crouched beside the bed and stared at his sleeping face. It felt unfair that you would soon leave and never get to see this face every day again. Then again—what a waste of a pretty face.

If people thought you stayed in the marriage because your husband looked like he belonged on a magazine cover—

Well.

They wouldn't be entirely wrong. Unfortunately, a pretty face alone wasn't enough to keep a woman married.

Though Seungcheol was rich. 

Anyway.

One thing you absolutely couldn't stand was snoring. And too bad, your husband was one of those people.

Oddly enough, he wasn't doing it today. You wondered if he was even breathing.

So, just like the other day, you leaned closer. This time placing your ear against his chest to check his heartbeat.

Before you realized it, his eyes fluttered open—directly staring at you. Unfortunately, your body reacted faster than your brain. You pressed your lips against his, remaining there for a second longer than necessary.

Seungcheol stayed completely still. 

Judging by his reaction, he didn't seem affected by it in the slightest. Nor did he appear particularly horrified.

You slowly pulled away, trying to gather whatever dignity remained.

"What do you think you're doing?" His deep voice echoed through the room with those soulless eyes fixed directly on you.

You blinked, still way too close. "Uh...sleeping kiss?"

One of his eyebrows rose immediately.

"You looked like you weren't breathing in your sleep, so I thought a true love's kiss might wake you up."

Wow.

Nice save. But at what cost?

At this point, you might as well have read him a bedtime story.

Now fully awake, Seungcheol pushed himself up slightly and stared at you as if trying to determine whether he was still dreaming.

"I cooked earlier," you blurted out. "You should eat. It's almost lunchtime."

Immediately, you stood up and escaped the room before your embarrassment could kill you on the spot.

Honestly, you were digging your own grave. Who kissed their spouse in the middle of a divorce?

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. By the time you reached your room, you'd already accepted the call.

"Oh, hey. Did you find anything?"

"Yeah. Had to ask Wonwoo about it." Jeonghan chuckled softly. "He complained the whole time and accused me of interrogating him."

You waited quietly.

"Anyway, from what I found, Seungcheol was receiving treatment back then. But he eventually stopped showing up and kept skipping appointments."

You remained silent, letting him continue.

"I knew about the insomnia and panic attacks. I just didn't realize he'd been clinically diagnosed."

"You knew that?"

"I'm sorry, _____.” His voice softened. "I didn't know the full details. Aside from that, I think I know what might've caused it. For now, that's all I have. The doctor who treated him moved overseas years ago."

"It's okay," you assured him quietly. "You've already helped a lot. Let me know if you find anything else."

After the call ended, you sat at the edge of your bed. 

Thinking.

Seungcheol rarely talked about his family. Not because they had bad blood.

At least not from what you'd seen.

After his father's death, however, everyone seemed to drift apart. You always respected the boundaries he never verbally established, yet the invisible line was always there. No matter how much you reached out, he never seemed ready—or willing to let anyone in. Not even his wife.

He was difficult. Very complicated. Infuriating.

And yet here you were, worrying about problems that technically had nothing to do with you anymore.

When you should've been packing your belongings and preparing for the divorce.

Was this really how someone behaved when they desperately wanted to end a seven-year marriage? You didn't understand yourself either.

There was only one person left you could ask. So you reached for the business card resting on your bedside table. Staring at the familiar name printed on it.

Then you dialed the number. Later, the line connected after a few rings.

"Hello?" A familiar voice answered.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" 

That night has come, and yet you can’t seem to sleep properly, always rolling around your bed, restless.

For the first time, you never feel so bothered by it. The thought of leaving him once and for all, you wondered if he will get sick even more after divorce.

You wouldn’t think you'll be able to live with that while he was in the dark, keeping himself from the world.

Yeah. You definitely feel that remorse of guilt, even though Jeonghan keeps assuring you that Seungcheol is not that type of person who would dwell like a damsel in distress. You could’ve described it properly but you had no sense of wisdom to correct it now.

How could you possibly leave him like that? He was once a person you could never live without, he’s all you have now.

Or maybe you still care for him deep inside.

Sitting up, you sigh as you reach out your phone. The time is currently 3:04 A.M. which you were supposed to be sleeping by now.

When you think about not sleeping, you think of him. Did he manage to sleep today? How long had he been depending on that pill?

This is awful.

You seriously need to get a grip. Getting off from the bed, you went towards his bedroom, peeking slightly to see if he was sleeping.

Your heart rate rose instantly, opened the door clearly this time just to see the empty bed there. It doesn’t look like he was taking a shower either, you were frantically walking down the stairs, searching for his presence around, the balcony, living area and kitchen.

Does that mean he went back to his office to work again even at this time? There’s no way he would do that. He always works at home too with his devices in his study room.

You tried to call him this time. Not less than three seconds, you heard the phone buzzing on the glass table beside you.

Slowly, you turned around, eyes landed on the phone.

A brief quiet silence filled the air. The paranoia started to kick in, you tried to be calm about it but with zero response and his whereabouts in this penthouse seems to be dreading you out.

Where could he possibly be right now?

You choose another way to find him this time, as you stepped out the building, the cold air hit you but your thoughts were filled with his wellbeing.

You didn’t say any of his cars were being used, it’s not like he’s the type to go outside to just merely get some fresh air.

You tried to think where else he would go late at this hour, your car slowed as you examined the whole surrounding. As you stopped by a nearby park, you saw a figure sitting up at the bench alone.

From the looks of it, the back of the head seemed to be like him alright. You shut the door, hurriedly went over the lightpole, where the light illuminated the only dark space there.

“Cheol!” you called him out, that nickname you haven’t used in a while.

His head turned at you, almost dumfounded as he stood up slowly.

You let out a heaving breath, it was cold and hot was bothering you. Glancing at his form, he was still in comfortable clothes which were probably thinner even if it was just a cardigan. You realized he was walking here barefoot, feet red and covered with blisters.

You frowned, face was already dead, worried as hold his arms then down his hands, trying to warm him up and feeling how cold his hands had been.

“Where have you been?” your voice trembled a little, “I searched for you all over—” You stopped yourself just enough when you noticed his face has been looking at you the entire time, like he doesn’t appear to be aware of what's really happening.

You slowly breathe, one hand holding his other cheek, “I’m sorry, just tell me where did you go? If you’re having a hard time, just let me know, okay?” your voice softens, “don’t go wandering around without your phone…”

He didn’t reply immediately, his eyes that were always sharp and stoic are now more soft and gentle this time. His hand covered yours, the first time after a while you were this close to him.

“I was waiting for you.” He simply said, looking at you.

Your heart momentarily stutters at that, searching if he was deceiving you.

“We were supposed to meet at the park today,” he continued, “You told me today that we were supposed to go to the aquarium.”

There’s a quiet silence filled the cold night.

“...Cheol, that was six years ago.” you muttered softly, looking at him with sad eyes.

And yet, he doesn’t look like he was playing around. He genuinely meant every word of it.  The more he keeps looking at you like that, it hurts your heart because why did he look at you like he was still there, as if there's a spark of hope of him wanting you back.

On your way back home, the car ride was quiet. You didn’t press any further after that. Carefully tending to his injured feet, you cleaned and bandaged them properly. Given how quiet he was being, you didn’t question him as you looked up before organizing the first aid kit again.

He had been staring at you the whole time.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” you asked gently, setting the aid kit aside before standing up.

“Are you mad at me?”

That was what he asked instead.

Your movements halted for a moment as you slowly turned back to him, only to be met with those familiar soft eyes.

His gaze was almost docile.

Was this really the same stoic Seungcheol that everyone used to be intimidated by?

You placed the kit aside and sat back down beside him. “No... I’m not mad at you. What makes you think that?”

Seungcheol just looked at you. Really looked at you.

“It’s just... you looked like you were crying because of me. Did I do something that upset you?”

Your breath hitched at that, trying to swallow down the lump burning in your throat. Exhaling slowly, you reached for his hand, testing the waters first before actually holding it.

“No... I was just...” you hesitated, uncertain of what to say in this situation because he genuinely looked just as confused as you were. “...let’s get some rest, okay? You’ve had a long day.”

When you were about to stand up, he didn’t let go of your hand.

You glanced down at him. “I’ll be in my room if you need me,” you assured him softly.

“Why?” He frowned slightly. “I thought we were sleeping in the same room.”

He looked genuinely hurt by that. And by the looks of it, almost like a puppy that had been left out in the rain.

Now it was your turn to be confused. The entire situation felt like it was playing tricks on you.

Because why?

Why did he look at you like he still cared about you? Like he needed you the moment your hand slipped from his. Like the thought of you leaving was something he couldn’t understand.

“I hope you had a wonderful weekend, Seungcheol,” the voice echoed through the quiet, almost peaceful room. “Could you share with me how you've been feeling these days?”

“I did. And I’ve been feeling happier because I get to spend my whole day with my wife. She always smiles a lot when she’s with me.”

“That’s good to hear.” The man offered a small smile. “Now, can you tell me if anything unusual has happened?”

Seungcheol hummed, nodding slightly. “I had a dream. A really bad dream, doctor.”

The man leaned forward, listening intently.

“Is that so? Could you describe what kind of dream you were having?”

“There was a man. He looked like me, and in that dream...” he continued, almost as if he were retelling a story, “...he was different from me. Always alone, and as if people were afraid of him. I don’t like that person who looks like me in that dream.”

“Why is that, Seungcheol?”

“Because...” he hesitated. “Whenever I see him in my dream, my wife always cries because of me.”

A brief silence settled between them before Seungcheol continued.

“But doctor, my name is not Seungcheol,” he stated. “My wife always calls me Cheol. I don’t know why you keep referring to me by that name.”

“This might be confusing for you, but Seungcheol and Cheol are the same person.”

“What?”

Joshua let out a slow breath.

“In psychiatry, what you're experiencing is called Dissociative Identity Disorder,” he explained. “It’s commonly known as multiple personality disorder. The symptoms you're experiencing right now fit the criteria.”

Seungcheol simply stared at him. But the one sitting in front of him now was Cheol.

Not Seungcheol.

“You see, Seungcheol and Cheol are the same person,” Joshua continued. “And the person sitting in front of me is still Seungcheol, even when you tell me that you're ‘Cheol’ today.”

“But... that’s impossible. That’s not me...” he insisted.

Joshua opened his tablet and showed him a profile. Choi Seungcheol, part of the Diamonds Group—CEO of a financial institution.

Seungcheol looked unconvinced as he slowly examined the information displayed on the screen. It felt like he was looking at a complete stranger.

“Remember this,” Joshua continued gently. “Seungcheol and Cheol are one person.”

He paused in between.

“And we're here to find out what caused this trigger in the first place.”

TBC.

a/n: ayeee, how are we feeling for this prologue? let me know how it goes, feedback, comment, reblogs are appreciated.

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