#get schooled

The rain in Incheon had a habit of making the city feel smaller, trapping everyone under a heavy, grey blanket. Inside your apartment, however, the world was reduced to the soft hum of the refrigerator, the rhythmic clicking of your laptop keyboard, and the steady, comforting weight of the duvet, spread all over over as you worked on a report.

It had been three weeks since you last saw Hwa-jin in person. Three weeks of brief, midnight phone calls that usually ended with him sighing deeply into the receiver, his voice gravelly with exhaustion, before he had to hang up to handle another crisis the next day. The ERPB was being stretched to its absolute limit. A sudden spike in severe school violence cases away from the city and in a township meant Hwa-jin and others were seperated from their home for a long time, tearing down corrupt administrations and dealing with delinquent rings.

You understood. You really did. Being an crime reporter yourself, you knew the weight of jobs which required constant moving. You had eventually adapted to the empty space on the couch, the cold side of the bed, and the quiet apartment. People around you kept commenting, on how this made you lonely; yet you thought of it as a habit- indeed a lonely one, but a habit nonetheless.

But as for your husband? It was a completely different story.

Beneath that chaotic, untouchable exterior, Na Hwa-jin was a man possessed by a quiet, fierce possessiveness when it came to you. He didn’t handle the distance well. If he could have legally or illegally appointed you as his permanent partner-in-crime on every single ERPB deployment, he would have done it in a heartbeat.

Your phone suddenly buzzed on the coffee table, vibrating violently against the wood. You picked it up, a small smile instantly forming when you saw the caller ID.

"Hey," you answered softly.

A long, dramatic groan echoed through the speaker, followed by the sound of a car door slamming and the faint chatter or you can say a shriek of Hanrim in the background. "I am dying. Officially. My cause of death will be extreme deprivation of my favorite person."

You chuckled, leaning back into the pillow. "Rough day at the office?"

"We just wrapped up a case in Gyeonggi. I’ve been stuck in a car with Bong Geun Dae and Han-rim for three hours, and he refuses to let me smoke," Hwa-jin complained, his voice dropping into that low, magnetic register that always made your stomach do a soft flip. "But that’s not the main issue. The main issue is that I haven’t seen your face in twenty-one days. For your information I counted. Do you know how hard it is to maintain a terrifying reputation when all I want to do is drag you away from all these menace and be somewhere with just is?"

"I miss you too, Hwa-jin. But you're saving kids. You're doing important work."

"Let Han-rim and Geun Dae save them for a day," he muttered, completely shameless. You could practically hear the pout in his voice. "I told the Minister today that we need to hire an external specialized journalist for our upcoming missions to report our work to the media. I explicitly recommended you. He told me to stop abusing my power in bringing my wife."

"He’s right, you know," you laughed, a warm flush rising to your cheeks. "I have my own cases to handle."

"I don't care about logic right now," Hwa-jin murmured, his tone suddenly shifting from playful to incredibly soft, laced with a genuine, aching vulnerability that he only ever showed to you. "I just want to come home to you, darling. I'm so tired."

Your heart melted, a wave of profound affection washing over you. "How far away are you?"

"About twenty minutes from our house. They are dropping me off. I have a few days' window before my next briefing, and I intend to spend every single second of it attached to your side."

"I'll be waiting," you said softly. "Drive safe."

The moment the line went dead, you sprung into action. You closed your laptop, tossed it onto the desk, and practically ran to the kitchen. If Hwa-jin was exhausted, he needed comfort food. You quickly put a pot of water on the stove to make a simple, hearty stew, threw a batch of rice into the cooker, and ran around the living room tidying up the area.

Precisely twenty-two minutes later, the electronic lock on your front door beeped.

The door swung open, and there he stood. Hwa-jin looked a bit disheveled, his usually perfectly styled dark hair was messy from the rain, his tie was loosened and hanging haphazardly around his neck, and his long black coat was damp. But the moment his dark eyes locked onto yours, the exhaustion seemed to vanish from his face, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated relief.

He didn't even bother taking off his shoes properly, kicking them off at the entryway before taking three long, sweeping strides across the room. Before you could even say welcome home, Hwa-jin’s long arms wrapped securely around your waist. He lifted you right off your feet, burying his face into the crook of your neck and planted a soft kiss on either sides on your cheeks.

"Ah... finally," he breathed out, his grip tightening as if he were trying to merge you into his very bones. He inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar, comforting scent of your shampoo and the warmth of your skin.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his broad shoulders, burying your fingers in the damp strands of his hair. "Missed me that much?" you whispered, smiling into his shoulder as he gently set your feet back on the ground, though he didn't dare loosen his grip.

"More than you can possibly comprehend," Hwa-jin murmured. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his large hands cupping your face with a tenderness that completely contradicted his fearsome reputation. He scanned every inch of your face, his eyes warm and heavy with affection. "You look beautiful. Have you been eating well? You look like you lost weight. Did you miss me? Tell me you missed me."

You let out a small hearty laugh, upon listening to his concern. "I missed you terribly," you smiled, leaning into his touch. "And I've been eating just fine. I actually just made some stew."

Instead of answering, Hwa-jin leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. It wasn't demanding or chaotic like he usually was; it was slow, sweet, and filled with a desperate, quiet devotion that made your knees feel weak. His lips were cool from the rain outside, but they quickly warmed against yours. He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, his thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

When he finally pulled away, his dark eyes were hooded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "The stew can wait. Right now, I need to hold you."

But you lightly pushed him away, placing your hands on his chest to stop him.

"Go change out of those damp clothes, you idiot," you laughed, giving his chest a playful shove. "I’ll set the table." He let out an annoying groan, like a child who has been denied from playing.

A few minutes later, Hwa-jin emerged from the bedroom wearing a pair of soft grey sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt that you had bought him. Without the sharp suits and the imposing aura of the ERPB, he looked incredibly boyish, his damp hair falling naturally across his forehead.

He sat down at the small dining table, immediately reaching out to grab your hand the second you sat down across from him. Even as he ate, he refused to let go, awkwardly navigating his spoon with his left hand just so he could keep his right fingers intertwined with yours.

"You know, it’s really hard to eat when you’re holding my hand like a lifeline," you pointed out, though you made no move to pull away.

"Deal with it," Hwa-jin replied smoothly, taking a bite of the rice. "This is my emotional support hand. If I let go, I might dissolve into a puddle of stress."

"You are so dramatic."

"I am a man of passion," he corrected, his voice dropping slightly as he squeezed your fingers. "Seriously, Y/N. The city is getting chaotic. Every school we visit has some new mess. And the entire time I’m dealing with arrogant principals or bratty delinquents, all I can think about is how much better the day would be if you were standing next to me."

"I don't think the Minister would appreciate me distracting his top agent."

"I'm not distracted by you," Hwa-jin murmured, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You're the only thing that keeps me focused. When the world gets loud, you're the quiet I look forward to."

The sheer sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You squeezed his hand back, your eyes softening. "Then I'll always be here when you get back. No matter how long it takes."

After dinner, Hwa-jin absolutely refused to let you do the dishes alone. He stood right behind you at the sink, his chest pressed firmly against your back, his long arms reaching around you to wash the plates while you rinsed them. It was completely impractical and resulted in water splashing onto the floor, but neither of you cared. He kept pressing soft, fleeting kisses to the side of your neck and your shoulder, whispering ridiculous complaints about his colleagues just to hear you laugh.

Once the kitchen was clean, Hwa-jin practically dragged you to the living room.

He pulled the large, fluffy duvet off the bed and spread it across the couch. He sat down first, leaning back against the armrest, and immediately pulled you down into his lap. You settled against his chest, your back against his torso, as he wrapped the blanket tightly around both of you, locking you in a warm, impenetrable cocoon.

The rain continued to patter softly against the windowpane, creating a soothing, rhythmic white noise. The apartment was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of a movie playing on the television, though neither of you were actually watching it.

Hwa-jin rested his chin on your shoulder, his long fingers gently tracing patterns along your forearm beneath the blanket.

"This is perfect," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "No phones. No cases. No high school bullies. Just us." He shifted slightly, tightening his arms around you, pulling you so close that you could feel the steady, reassuring thud of his heartbeat against your back. It was a grounding rhythm, one that instantly washed away all the lingering loneliness of the past three weeks.

"Sometimes," you began quietly, staring at the television screen, "I worry that the job takes too much out of you. You carry a lot of anger for the sake of those kids, Hwa-jin."

Hwa-jin was silent for a moment, his fingers pausing their movements on your arm. When he spoke, his voice was remarkably gentle, devoid of the sharp edge he used against the rest of the world. "I do. The world can be a pretty ugly place, you see it too, in your line of work. People can be cruel, especially to those who can't defend themselves."

He turned his head slightly, pressing his lips to your cheek, holding the kiss there for a long, tender moment.

"But when I come back here... when I hold you like this, and I see how kind you are, how safe this room feels... all that anger just evaporates," he murmured against your cheek. "You're my reset button. As long as I have this to come back to, I can handle whatever the city throws at me."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, filled with a warmth that spread all the way to your toes. You turned your head, meeting his gaze. In the dim light, his dark eyes were incredibly soft, filled with a profound, unwavering adoration that belonged entirely to you.

"I love you, Hwa-jin," you whispered.

Hwa-jin’s expression softened even further, a breathless, genuinely happy smile gracing his handsome features. He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss; this one sweet, slow, and full of a quiet promise.

"I love you more, Y/N," he murmured against your lips when he broke the kiss. "And don't argue with me on that. I'm the supervisor here; my word is final."

"Unbelievable," you laughed softly, resting your head back against his chest. "You really can't leave the job at the door, can you?"

"Only the parts that let me win arguments against you," he teased, his hand moving to gently stroke your hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a slow, hypnotic motion.

The warmth of the blanket, the soft purring of the kittens, and the gentle rhythm of Hwa-jin’s fingers in your hair quickly began to work their magic. The exhaustion of the past few weeks finally caught up to both of you. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you let out a soft yawn, shifting closer into his embrace.

Hwa-jin noticed, his chest shaking with a silent, affectionate chuckle. He pulled the duvet up a bit higher, tucking it securely around your shoulders.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice incredibly gentle, a soothing lullaby against the backdrop of the falling rain. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?" you mumbled, your voice already thick with sleep.

"I promise," Hwa-jin murmured, pressing one final, lingering kiss to the top of your head. He rested his cheek against your hair, closing his eyes as his arms held you securely against his chest.

Outside, the city continued its chaotic, fast-paced rush through the rainy night, filled with cases, deadlines, and noise. But inside the small, dimly lit apartment, the world had slowed down to an absolute crawl. There was no distance, no pressure, and no loneliness. Just the quiet, heavy warmth of a man who loved you entirely, completely content to spend his hard-earned peace exactly where he belonged with you.

-

Na Hwajin was a busy man with a stressful job, but no matter how much exhaustion has settled in his bones, he would always have time and energy for you— his lover— especially when you are standing in the doorway to your shared bedroom like a victorian child, with eyes full of tears— ready to fall anytime now— and your comfort object in your hand, clearly seeking him out for help, and who is he to deny you?

So there you were: sitting across his lap, curled into him with your head resting on his shoulder and face planted into his neck; a hand resting on his chest or both arms around his waist, hugging him tight; hair messy, maybe even falling into your face, hiding you away from the world even more. He knew you needed a place to hide away, he knew you seeked him out, because he was your safe space, and he made sure he did his job right, by draping a blanket around you, keeping an arm around your back, occasionally patting it gently in an act of comforting while his other hand rested on your thigh, wanting to have you as close to him as possible, wanting you to feel he's there and won't be going anywhere.

"Come on darling, it's not as bad as you think it is." he tried to ease your worries. "Oh, so it is bad?" you asked between sobs. "No no no no no, I didn't say that. I said you are overthinking it. What you have done, what you have accomplished, is great, you just can't see that... You have achieved what you have, because you did your best, as far as it didn't cause you to progress towards a burnout in the main time. This, is great, this is something you should be proud of, because it's great, it's enough, you... are enough. Not „just enough”." He let out a small sigh, searching for the right words, before leaving a kiss on the top of your head. "I just... don't understand why I can't be like the others, why I can never stand out and must be left behind in the shadows as someone who's like everybody else, who's just as average, who can be just as easily left behind and forgotten—" you would have continued, but he cut you off with his voice turned serious. "Enough... We have talked about this before, [name]..." The two of you have started to work on your self-esteem not so long ago, because he couldn't take hearing you talk down upon yourself anymore, he couldn't take seeing you unable to see how great you actually are anymore. "Comparison is a killer of joy. There will always be people who are better, just how there will always be people who are worse. Just because you feel like many people suppress you on one field doesn't make you anything less. Your weakness might be a subject while your „biggest rivals' ” might be empathy. Being worse, or even the worst in something won't make you stupid, or average or anything like that. We can't be the best in every field in life, only a few, and those make you stand out, make you unique. Do you know how much shit you can take, how much you can tolerate, even in times you shouldn't? It's something remarkable, it's one of the things that make me look up to you, and would make others, too, if they knew." His hand on your thigh went up to your face, his tumb moving across your cheek to clean your tear stained face a little, then his hand settled on the side of your jaw. "We are humans, we can not be the same, even if we try. We can improve and be better, but we can't be the same, because if we were, what would make anyone unique? Everybody's different so we can find what makes us stand out, what makes us something out of the ordinary, what makes us anything but average."

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I hate being an almost 19 years old with daddy issues, seeing people my age— or younger— being in happy romantic relationships. The envy is eating me up alive from the inside.