There was no doubt that entering a partnership with Kim Heechul (and Vera would like to pause here to stress that it was supposed to be a strictly business partnership—everything was on black and white and profits were made and they had a godamn official lawyer with an office and everything) was going to be a headache and a half.         Not that Vera had expected much from a cooperation from a guy who basically paid his way through school, but she had the basic expectations—turning up to work on time, for example. Using the coffee machine to actually make coffee, instead of some half-assed ice-machine contraption in commemoration of “Anna Day”, as Heechul had called it. And standing on the glass table in their conference room, belting Let It Go at the highest octave should not even have to be mentioned. But there he was, singing like he was standing in his very own shower.       Vera glanced accusatorially around the room at all her equally concerned-looking colleagues, already intending to arrow down the bastard who’d given Heechul sugar. Any amount of it was akin to property damage. One that they couldn’t reimburse from an outside party, no less, since it was Heechul himself who tended to bash things in his way.        Sometimes, Vera wished dearly that euthanasia was legal, and that killing the one Kim Heechul would be her saving grace for society. But there were laws in place that prevented her from achieving world peace, so Vera’s next option was to calmly pick up Heechul’s still hot cup of coffee, throwing the contents all over his pant leg.       A deathly silence filled the room; the kind of silence that embodied “you could hear a fucking pin drop”. Then, as quickly as silence fell, Heechul started shrieking in the same octave he’d been singing.        ”You broke me!” he wailed. Vera was suddenly reminded of why she never wanted to have kids. “You fucking—” A slew of profanities followed next, but Vera was already straightening her dress and heading out of the room. She knew what Heechul was going to do next, and it involved climbing off of the table. That was enough shenanigans for the day—she had actual work to do.

( `he knew he was going to regret setting a customized alarm for heechul, except right now the annoyance level surpasses the regret that’s sinking in quick as he turns away from his phone that has been ringing for the forth time tonight, to bury himself deeper under the covers and leaving Frozen’s theme song Let it go to continue playing; in all honesty he should have seen this coming, for this definitely isn’t the first time. he stirs with a groan, propping himself up with an elbow while his other arm stretches over to grab his buzzing phone and answers the call in hopes of ridding the disturbance and gaining himself some peace in return ) for anna’s sake heechul, this better be important to me or i swear i’m turning you into a fucking snowman.